The first few days in their new home dragged on and blurred together.

Zuko's fever never faded, and his tossing and turning increased in severity by each hour. Iroh and Kona took shifts, alternating who looked over the sickened teen and who supervised the decoration of their new tea shop (whose grand opening was quickly approaching).

There was little time for sleep, and she could see by the sunken purple blemishes under Iroh's eyes that the fatigue was affecting him too. The added stress of the tea shop faded as they added the finishing touches one at a time. They added a vase here and a frame there to pull the shop together, but the missing member of the family was prominent in Kona's mind, as she was sure it was in Iroh's.

Even with the new time to sleep and knowing Iroh's watchful eye was nearby, Kona found no release from her anxiety. The situation was too stifling, too familiar to be able to escape through sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she had the suffocating feeling of being six years old again. Her mother was laying before her, sweat making her once beautiful hair stick to her cheeks. Kona would touch her hand, and her mother would be so cold. Why was she so cold? Iroh kept bringing her and her mother three cups of tea for them to share when she woke.

She never did.

Those were the more pleasant memories.

Most of her thoughts were stuck on the harsher days of her mother's illness.

In the late hours of the night, she swore she felt the deep chill in her bones that accompanied the frigid nights in the alleys of the capital. Behind her eyelids, she saw the side-eyed looks and she could hear the jeers from men as they strolled by, well fed and warm.

Even through the haze of childhood, she could remember the night her mother stopped responding to her. She could remember the tremor in her fingertips. Was it fear or the bitter cold that made them shake?

In these nightmares, Iroh never comes.

It was only after five miserable days that Zuko showed any change.

Kona sat against the wall of the main room, eyes staring into nothing. The porcelain cup, untouched, nearly slipped from Kona's fingers as he gave a loud groan. She placed it down beside her carelessly, the cold tea covering her fingers and the pristine floor. It hardly registered in her mind.

She crawled to his side in a blink and she watched with bated breath as his eyelids fluttered open, scanning the room. The little hope she felt faded back to dread when she realized he didn't seem to see anything at all. He may have woken up, but he was no more lucid.

Uncaring of Iroh's scrutinizing gaze, Kona clutched Zuko's closest hand as Iroh rushed over with a freshly filled pail of water. They had tried everything to break Zuko's fever, but no amount of blankets, no amount of water, nothing seemed to help.

Her only solace, one of her only anchors to remind her that this time would be different, was the temperature of his skin. It wasn't a foreboding cold, but a sweltering heat. Still dangerous, but not too late. He could still be ok.

Right?

"You're burning up," Iroh informed him, breaking Kona from her spiraling thoughts.

Zuko's cloudy gaze finally latched onto him. Iroh wrung the cloth out over the bucket and laid it over his forehead, pressing it down with a gentle hand. "You have an intense fever. This will help cool you down."

Zuko opened his mouth, but only the smallest of squeaks left his throat. Kona's heart ached at the pained look on his face. He cleared his throat, then managed to choke out, "So thirsty."

He moved to sit up, but Kona immediately pushed him back down with as gentle a hand as she could manage.

"Easy, Zuko. Save your energy."

Guilt gnawed at her as his barely coherent gaze latched onto her.

It was her other anchor, keeping her from the familiar feeling of fog dripping over her senses.

This was not an incurable sickness or disease.

This was something she had done.

She had pushed him too far, too soon.

Unable to hold his gaze, she snatched the ladle from the bucket, barely fighting the tremors that sought to take control of her hands. She filled it to the brim before carefully guiding it to Zuko's lips.

Iroh helped brace his head, cradling the weight in his lap to guide Zuko to the spoon. Zuko's hands latched onto hers and she almost dropped the ladle, thinking her speed too quick. She tried to release it, to allow him agency to drink at the speed he needed, but his hands held firm over hers.

He held her as he drank greedily, and as soon as he had started, he finished. Only then did he push the spoon aside and reach for the bucket, but Kona wouldn't have it. She held him down once more, more insistent this time, pulling the blanket up to his chin as she grabbed more water for him.

"You've been asleep for days, so you need the water, but you need to stay under the blankets. We need to break your fever. I'm sorry."

His brow furrowed at her, but he didn't argue as she guided more water to his lips. His hands folded around hers once more, so hot even for him. Spoonful after spoonful, he drank it down, until finally, cradled in his uncle's lap, his eyes drifted closed once more.

Then the waiting began anew.

She wished she could say this wait was easier.

Thankfully, it was only another day before he came around again. This time, Kona stood nearby, moving through her forms, hoping to tame her anxious mind and failing. Iroh stood vigil by Zuko's side. He had been making more noise since morning, and Iroh was convinced that he would wake soon. Freshly brewed tea sat by Iroh's side as a testament to his belief.

She only hoped that this time, it wouldn't be left untouched.

By Agni's watchful eye, fate proved Iroh correct.

Zuko slowly came to consciousness once more, and Iroh wasted no time pushing the tea at him, hoping to fill his stomach for the first time in nearly a week. "You should know," Iroh said, as if it were a normal conversation. "This is not a natural sickness, but that shouldn't stop you from enjoying tea."

"What's happening?" Zuko's words were slurred, and Kona couldn't fight the pull they had on her, forcing her to a kneeled position at his sides.

"It's my fault," Kona said in a whisper, drawing his drowsy gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Your conversation. You made a critical decision," Iroh clarified, shooting her a look she couldn't completely decipher. She hadn't told him the full breadth of the conversation, so she was sure it was linked, at least partially, to the frustration of her omitted truth. "It was in such a conflict with your image of yourself that your mind and body are at war."

"What do you mean?" Zuko barely croaked out the words before a cacophony of coughing wracked his body, each one driving Kona further into her misery.

"You are going through a metamorphosis, my nephew. It will not be a pleasant experience, but when you come out of it, you will be the beautiful prince you are always meant to be."

"Not that you weren't before," Kona said, unable to stop herself as she busied herself by wringing out a new cloth for his forehead. "Your body will just stop fighting you so harshly. So rest well, and wake up a happier you."

"Stay with me," he said, eyes already drifting closed.

Blush filling her cheeks but unwilling to deny him anything, she brought the freshly wetted cloth to his forehead. "Always."

In the silence of his slumber, Iroh reached across to pull Kona to her feet.

She wanted to fight him, to stay by Zuko's side. She wanted to avoid the conversation that she knew was bound to happen, but his hands were firm and unrelenting as he pulled her to the table only feet away.

She could still see Zuko.

That helped.

"Catalyst you may have been, but you are not at fault for his sickness. You mustn't feel this guilt, my dear."

Kona couldn't fight her scoff. So, that was what his look was about.

She slumped onto the pillow near the tea she knew he had set out for her. Fighting her ever present nausea, she forced the tea back. It was still warm.

"Kona!"

She jumped at his sharp tone and forced her eyes up from where they were drilling into the remains of her tea. A fierce glare darkened his normally honey sweet gaze, and she reeled. He never looked at her like that.

"You need sleep," he said, his voice enunciating each syllable, as if he was teaching her a lesson as a child. "Even I rest my eyes during his quiet hours."

Kona dropped her gaze. Now that Zuko had awoken, Iroh's attention was fully on her. For better or for worse.

"I can't, Iroh. Last time I did…"

His voice interrupted hers, his voice stern, unyielding. "This is different, dear one. Your mother had an infection, a disease of the body. Zuko is fighting an illness in his soul."

She pursed her lips, fighting her agitation. He was telling her everything she already knew. She wasn't a child.

She didn't respond. They wouldn't agree on this matter, anyway.

He sighed from across the table. And maybe she should have felt bad, but she didn't. Not this time.

"Promise me you'll try."

She had been trying. She wanted to scream.

"Yes, Iroh," she said instead.

Sleep didn't come.

Kona was dead on her feet and she knew it. Every step felt like she had been marching for days. Her head ached, her eyes burned, and she could barely string two sentences together. Only getting a handful of hours of restless sleep for two weeks straight would do that to a person.

She squinted beneath the brim of her hat, fighting against the glare of the sun to read the freshly painted sign in front of her.

"The Jasmine Dragon," the sign proclaimed in elegant script, high above the double doors of their tea shop—no, tea house. The building was massive, easily four times the size of Mr. Pao's shop in the lower ring. It had two banquet spaces in addition to the main seating area, and there were at least a dozen cooking stations in the kitchen.

Elegant tables covered the main dining area, each with its own bouquet of lilies. Their benefactor had questioned the choice. He had said it was confusing to the image of the shop to replace jasmine centerpieces with lilies. He quickly learned just how argumentative Kona could be.

With a smirk, he gave her his to-do list and a pat on the shoulder. It was what put Iroh and her in the forefront of the store preparations in the first place. Kona knew it was a sign of confidence, of approval. She wished it made her feel anything at all.

She tapped her foot impatiently as the painters finally made their way off their ladders. She had already given the shop a once over, dusting every corner, straightening every decoration. They would need to hire more staff if they wanted to keep everything clean, but that was an issue for another day.

With a bow, she tipped a few gold pieces to the painters, sending them off with what she hoped was a friendly smile.

Agni, she was irritated.

Iroh had all but forced her out of their apartment that morning. He said something about her brooding and getting fresh air before sending her off to supervise the painters and come home with a list of groceries. And here she thought their relationship was on the road to repair.

What a joke.

But she didn't complain. Of course, she didn't.

At least, not out loud.

Internally, that's all she did, as she wandered from shop to shop, running errands she knew were worthless. When was the last time they needed a mortar and pestle?

At least it mostly served its intended purpose; she was too busy stewing in her sleep-addled irritation to think about her best friend—boyfriend?—for the moment.

Errands complete, she trudged up the staircase leading to their new house. To call it an apartment would do it a disservice. Much like their shop, it was so much bigger than she ever could have imagined. Of course, it didn't match the overbearing glamor that the palace boasted, but its value was clear in the pristine paint, the elegant floral reliefs, and the sprawling rooms.

It was taking time to readjust to, considering their last few years, but that wasn't a bad thing. She would not deny herself the luxuries that had been withheld from her for so long.

Her musing abruptly ended the second she stepped into their residence. She felt the bag of fresh produce slip through her fingertips. She was dimly aware of the colorful fruit, rolling along the floorboards and out of sight, but it didn't hold even a fraction of her attention.

In front of her, Zuko stood awake, more color in his cheeks than she could ever remember seeing. The bags under his good eye were long gone, though his hair was messy from his long slumber. She rushed forward before she could even think about it.

She fell into his chest, clutching at his waist. She closed her eyes, feeling his warmth, no longer a sickly inferno, but a comforting heat. Her hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt, trying to fight the shake that hid in her fingertips. Her emotions threatened to overwhelm her, her relief spilling over into shaky breaths and trembling hands.

He was awake. He recovered. She hadn't, but he did.

His sickness did not take him from Kona.

Zuko pulled away, though Kona put up a small fight, clinging to him for just a moment longer. Unrelenting, he pried her away from him, but before she could feel offended, his hands gripped her head on either side, his thumbs framing her cheeks.

"I'm sorry that I scared you, but I'm alright now."

Agni, his eyes were so soft that she thought she could melt under his attention. She reached up to grip his hands, squeezing them as she struggled to find her words. She caught Iroh's eye in her humbling and her heart shuttered.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, suddenly very aware of Iroh's watchful eye, but didn't release Zuko. She couldn't.

"Have you had anything to eat? Are you thirsty?" She asked, looking for any crack in his exterior that would betray underlying fatigue. "Do you need to sit down? Do y–"

"Kona," he said with a laugh, and, Agni, that laugh made her heart flutter. "I'm fine. I promise. Don't worry about it, princess."

Kona squeezed his hand in warning, but he only laughed again before releasing her to bend down to pick up her forgotten groceries.

"Uncle made jook. Get changed and meet us at the table!"

Kona blinked at his cheery tone, finally turning to meet Iroh's gaze. He shrugged at her, but the wide grin sitting on his lips betrayed his mood.

"All is well, Kona. It's time to settle into our new life."

And so they did.

The grand opening was a smashing hit. People flooded through the double doors of the Jasmine Dragon, every seat permanently filled. Every face she saw was a new one, and though Kona missed the people she had come to know at Pao's Family Tea Shop, she couldn't ignore the glee on her mentor's face.

Kona danced from table to table, hour after hour, conversation after conversation, and though her feet ached and her throat eventually grew sore, she felt her own ease settle around her. She could happily do this every day for the rest of her life, she realized.

What Zuko had said, in the minutes before his sickness, was true. So true that it scared her. Who would she be if she wasn't Iroh's diligent student, Zuko's loyal subject, Azula's only rival?

If she was being honest, she may not have been those things in a long time.

Azula had grown in her power. Between Azula's attempted capture of Iroh and Zuko months ago and her attack on Iroh before Ba Sing Se, Kona could see that as clear as day. Azula hadn't reached the limit of her power, whereas Kona knew she had plateaued. Between her change in environment and demeanor, Kona didn't find the same thrill in battle she used to. Kona suspected Azula would be quite disappointed if they ever met in battle, sparring or otherwise.

Now, Iroh would probably always be a touchy subject, always further out of reach that she knew in her heart she wanted. Still, she could see now that she wasn't just his student. She was more than that. How far his regard reached, she didn't know, but she knew his fond words and affection would not be given if he didn't mean it. After all, he had never treated Azula the way he treated her and blood tied them together.

Then, of course, she had also started treating him differently. When that barrier was there, that hesitancy, Kona relied on her formality, her loyalty, but she couldn't do that anymore. Of course, she apologized for her behavior after Zuko had recovered, but she never would have acted that way before their cold war had ended. Student no more. Diligent no more. She didn't know how Iroh felt about that. She didn't want to ask.

And, finally, came the biggest certainty.

Zuko.

Was she ever Zuko's loyal subject? Loyal, sure. To this very day, she knew she would follow Zuko to the ends of the world, and she had. But she couldn't be his silent companion any longer, and she knew he didn't want her to. She was his confidante, his partner, and he was hers. Despite the ways of their nation, they were equals in heart and in mind.

No, she decided. She couldn't be the person she was in the Fire Nation any longer, nor was she just a simple girl from Ba Sing Se. She was both and neither. Her years in Zuko's exile created someone new, someone who wanted to do better, be better, for her family and herself. She wasn't a fighter, not physically, though she had trained to be one most of her life. She was more inclined to sit back, to take each day as it came and enjoy each moment as it passed. She had taken the days of painful waiting to come to terms with that.

Her nation considered that weak, but her family, she knew, saw the strength it took to get there in the first place. That was enough for her.

I'm sorry this one is late in the day, and probably had some errors. I was rushing to get it finished. Full disclosure, I live in Florida and I'm in the direct path of Hurricane Ian. I will probably be without power sporadically for the next few days, so I'll be unable to edit and write. I'll try to get next week's chapter ready, but I can't promise anything, especially if we get storm damage. If any of you are in its path, stay safe and try to enjoy your days off of work/school.

Love you all~