While the Fire Nation palace was beautiful and ornate and architecturally captivating, staying cooped up inside had never been a virtue of yours. Especially considering your home growing up had been among the raging ocean and freezing snow.
So, when you found yourself with a break in-between hefty meetings with lecture after lecture on what your life was going to look like as the future Fire Lade, you figured going out to explore the market was a good idea.
Despite traveling back and forth from the Water Tribe to the Fire Nation before your engagement to Zuko, there had been little opportunity to spend much of your time among the common Fire Nation people. Your scarce time with Zuko, what with his duties and responsibilities, was spent in the safety of the Fire Nation palace feeding ducks or taking walks or exploring the library.
It was obvious that to gain his people's respect and trust as their new leader, and a leader that had recently ended the very supported and celebrated war his grandfather had started a hundred years ago, Zuko actually had to do his job. He was left time for little else.
With the position of being securely part of his future, and the future of the country, freedom was granted to you on more occasions. Advisors had also pointed that it would be better for you to be spotted out and about every once and a while in order for people to see you and get the chance to interact with you. How could the people ever honor and respect you as their Fire Lady, especially one from another nation, if you remained so aloof and distant that they had to guess at almost every aspect of who you were?
Thus, an adventure to the market was in order.
A stall of fresh-looking fruit was the first to catch you eye after about half an hour of walking through the different sections of the city. You were walking down a branched path away from a main road, further away from the Palace than you had ever been before, when you saw it.
When officials had offered you to participate in tours of the country before, they tended to stick to the places of nobility and wealth. This area looked less cleaned up and more familiar to you, a bit more like your previous home in the Water Tribe. Gone were stoned walkways and polished-up homes; you know walked cobbled streets and homes that seemed to be built with less care towards aesthetics and with more mind placed on structure and space equity.
It wasn't quiet like the upper villages that housed nobles and high-ranking government officials; it was beautifully less sterile. You keep your pace even, but it falters a bit as you see people from their doorways and windows watch you as you pass by. There are no smiles or friendly greetings. You try not to take it personally. You had been told from the beginning that here people choose to be reserved and stoic. Ahead of you, parents usher their children through their doorways and into their homes.
They're just shy and wary, Your head whispers to you. You've never been in this part of town before.
You hear a soft echo of children's laughter as the breeze ruffles your face, and you smile a bit as you stop in front of the fruit stall you eyed a few moments ago. You turn your eyes to examine the fruit that is laid out in categorized groupings. Apples, oranges, a few tomatoes, and fruit only specific to Fire Nation agriculture.
You pick up a red apple to get a better look at it and don't even notice the old lady sweeping the ground, positioned more in the shadows, until she speaks to you.
"Those are expensive. And we don't barter with foreign money."
Her voice sounds frail, but one look at her betrays what her voice implies. Her skin is weathered, and her eyes worn by time and emotions that aren't able to be clearly deciphered. For a moment, you figure that the war had to have had an effect on everyone, even those who dwelt in the nation that benefited from it the most.
"I'm sorry?" You ask, trying to get a sense of what she's trying to get at.
You're wearing Fire Nation robes, rich in color but otherwise not gaudy, and to the latest style of what's currently acceptable for ladies in the Capitol. There's nothing off about how you're dressed or presenting yourself. You even made sure to put your hair up properly, without your beads just this once.
A show of solidarity, one Fire Sage said to you when they were leaving from the palace a few weeks ago and you had asked for some advice in how to move forward.
"What's there to not understand about what I said?" The old lady snaps at you, muscles recoiled with tension. "We don't trade with foreign money."
The words are like acid to your stomach as the old lady looks directly in the eye. Her eyes drift down, and you inwardly curse; you forgot that you had on the betrothal necklace Zuko had given you just recently. Blue was not common in jewelry or as a color to wear in the Fire Nation, as you have come to know well.
The lady mumbles under her breath and begins sweeping the stall floor again, like she hasn't even spoken, and you set the apple back down to its proper place among the others. She's not even ashamed of her tone or at her lack of manners. It's like she doesn't even recognize who you are.
It hits you: Maybe she doesn't want to.
There's no point in explaining that you only carry Fire Nation money with you now; that all your Water Tribe coins are saved in a box that sits on your nightstand because you don't know if you'll ever use them again. You don't know quite what to do with yourself.
You've known that this country has suffered under at least a hundred years of nationalistic propaganda warding people away from associating with any other nation and promoting Fire Nation exceptionalism. You'd known there would be challenges to marrying the Fire Lord as someone from the Water Tribe, but maybe not that you'd have to struggle with changing an entire nation's perception of your people and culture. That you'd have to prove to everyone here that you are just as equal as them.
It's obvious that the old lady is not going to speak to you again and wants nothing more to do with you. No one else is around for conversation or distraction either, so the choice to head back the way you came is an easy one.
You're turning away from the stand when you hear the old lady say something under her breath. At first, it doesn't register as you walk away, but the further away you walk, the clearer the word becomes.
"Savage."
It sends shivers up your spine and almost leaves you heaving in the middle of the street, but you refuse to cower to a word. Even if it is a word laced with a century, or more, of malice and hatred and prejudice. Your walk back to the Fire Nation palace is both long and short at the same time.
It is hours later when Zuko finds you at the edge of a pond, watching the turtle ducks swimming around in it and fishing for food. It is secluded and quiet, and he has a few spare minutes he can spend with you without worrying about his duties as Fire Lord.
You don't startle when he sits down next to you on the grass, but you are surprised he found a few minutes of escape from the constant responsibility and pressure that surrounds him. Usually it's not until at least dinner time that he's free.
He moves one of his hands towards both of yours, signaling that he wants to split the loaf of bread you're feeding to the turtle ducks with him. For a moment it feels almost satisfying to rip something in half. You hand him one chunk while you cradle the other. There are a few minutes of silence as it seems Zuko decompresses and you try to retrain your rage and hurt and sadness from your interaction with the old lady.
Your mother always told you that keeping a calm face when everything is the opposite inside of you is like the ocean trying to be a wave when it's actually a tsunami. You block the memory out and just try to enjoy the stillness and peace with Zuko. It's not like he gets much time for either.
"When I was younger, I threw a whole loaf of bread at a baby turtle duck and the mother bit me."
The thought feels a bit incomplete, like it's bittersweet, but you don't press him today. It's better for him to talk halfway about memories than not talk about them at all with you.
You chuff out a laugh but otherwise remain silent. You rip off a small piece of bread and softly throw it into the water. Soon the turtle ducks are swarming around each other for more, but you pace out the chunks enough for there to be some bread left a minute later.
Zuko is tossing out a few chunks of his own as you begin to speak.
"Some old lady called me a savage in the market today."
Again, silence greets you. But this time, it's not about governmental officials rejecting your culture while designing the wedding ceremony. This time it's about the fact that the person he is going to marry soon is being prejudiced against by the people he rules; the people you will also have a part in ruling in a small amount of time.
"She didn't exactly say it to my face," You say angrily as you toss the big chunk into the pond, scattering the turtle ducks, and standing up. The fury can no longer be ignored. "But it wasn't even what she said, Zuko."
Your growl at the same time as the tears well up and make their way down your cheeks. You're tired of crying, but it's one of the only ways your emotions are expressed. Zuko stays in his seated position as he watches you. Tenderness clouds his expression, but he's also being observant.
As much as the Fire Nation teaches their people rigidity, your community, especially your parents, taught you that to deny yourself expression is to deny yourself freedom. Emotional expression is where your relationship struggles the most sometimes, due to the polar opposite cultural values and teachings. Silence in his, complete and full expression in yours. Sometimes it's hard to find a balance. Moon and sun, right?
It's in situations like these where Zuko really takes time to consider what he says.
"It's what everyone doesn't say," You say, swiping at your eyes, trying to make the cursed water on your face disappear. Anger feels better right now than grief. "It's the looks and the silence about it all from those here who say they care. Like complicity is the same as advocating. Why should I suffer for the one-sided education people experienced at the hands of those who wished to destroy the world in the name of nationalism and supremacy? It's not fair and it's wrong and I shouldn't have to be stereotyped because of the things other people said!"
You huff as you throw your hands at the sky. There's also a bit of a yell that comes out, and you're thankful it's only you and Zuko in this secluded part of the palace. You sigh as you make you way back down to sit next to Zuko. He glances at his hands before staring out at the water.
"I wish I could say things will be different, but they probably won't be for a long time," His time as the Fire Lord has given him wisdom he wouldn't have otherwise. Although discomfort stews in your stomach, you know he's right. He's suffered from this too, in different ways.
"I know," You say back at him, laying a hand on his clothed forearm. A hundred years of war has left the Fire Nation's own people divided and prejudiced, never mind the rest of the world. You had gone through your own journey of dismantling your own prejudice about the Fire Nation when Zuko joined you, Sokka, Katara, Toph, and Aang in order to defeat his father.
"There is a long road of healing ahead of us, of me. I meant it when I said it the day of my coronation, and I still mean it now," Your hand makes its way down to his, clasping it in a show of support. Zuko always means what he says. "There are changes I'm making, and while some of them are already being implemented, it's going to take time for some of the others."
"I know," You whisper again, leaning your head on Zuko's shoulder as you both stare out at the water. It doesn't feel like peace that settles in your stomach; it feels more temporary and elusive, perhaps because it's a foreign feeling to you.
It may not seem be solid, but you cling onto it for dear life. One of each of your hands is clasped together as you breath out slowly; the rage has settled now, but the pain seeps deep into your being. You know it's going to be a while before it fades away into healing.
"Someday things will be different." Zuko's tone is soft as he rests his head against your own.
And you realize what is stirring in you: hope. Fragile and small, but still sitting there in your belly when all else seems bleak. It looks as if undoing it all will take more work than what it took to do all of it in the first place.
But as you and Zuko sit together and stare out at the calm little pond, a little oasis of tranquility, you can't help but think, hope, that maybe, someday, even if it's far into the future, things will be different.