A/N: Written for the Halloween challenge (2014) at Promptbending.
After much suggesting, asking, cajoling, pleading, and even downright threatening from his friends, when Zuko finally agreed to leave the work of his station for one night to go to a festival, he didn't realize at the time they were keeping one important detail from him.
He only finds out when, dressed in a plain red-and-gold tunic, his hair free of its topknot and crown, he heads downstairs into the main entrance hall of the Fire Nation palace and sees what they are wearing that he stops in his tracks and frowns.
"Why are you all dressed like that?"
Sokka smacks his forehead—or what would be his forehead, were it not covered by a red-and-white mask. "No one told him?"
"He's probably too busy to keep track of the days," Toph points out. Her voice is muffled by a jade green mask and she has forgone her usual outfit for something more… Zuko would call it "elegant" if it weren't Toph. "He probably thinks it's morning right now."
"It's the Night of Spirits, Zuko," Katara says. Her face is uncovered, though streaked with stripes of red paint, and her eyes shine blue under a straw hat. Zuko finds himself staring at her bare arms for a moment before tearing his gaze away. "You know… the day that began when spirits were plaguing the land centuries ago, and when even the Avatar couldn't control them, the people decided to dress up in scary costumes to frighten them off and—"
"Scary costumes? I think Twinkletoes might look scarier than you," Toph interjects.
All eyes turn to Aang, who is wearing orange and yellow like always, though his outfit is decidedly fluffier than usual. His mask has a beak on it.
"Hey, you can't see!" Sokka protests.
Suki slaps him on the shoulder. Ignoring his squawk of surprise, she smiles at Zuko through her face paint and reaches into the folds of her cloak. "We thought you wouldn't have prepared anything so we brought you something."
"It was my idea." Katara folds her arms and Zuko gulps; there is something mischievous twinkling in her eyes and he isn't sure if he should be wary or intrigued.
"Ta-da!" Suki pulls out a strip of cloth and hands it to him.
Zuko's first thought is that it is the color of flesh. But when he holds it up, he sees a slash of dark red on one side—and then he feels the elastic band in his fingers and understanding hits him. "You're kidding," he says flatly.
"Nope!" Aang beams. "Put it on!"
"No way."
"Come on, Zuko," Sokka whines. "You promised to come out tonight and you can't walk through the festival without a costume or a mask."
"This isn't a costume—"
"It is," Toph says. She smirks, and Zuko has a feeling he knows what she's going to say next. "You'll be going as the banished Prince Zuko from those sold-out plays on Ember Island, and you can't go the way you are now—the scar's on the wrong side."
"The scar is not on the wrong—"
"Zuko," Katara interjects, and he turns to look at her reluctantly. She holds his gaze for a moment. "It's just one night, and Sokka's right—you can't go to the festival without something. You've been working so hard ever since you became Fire Lord, and it's rare to find time when all of us can do something together again. So let's stop wasting time and go to the festival."
Zuko wants to scowl, but everyone is looking at him too, Aang with those darn polar-bear-puppy dog eyes, and when he looks back at Katara, he tries to say something and his voice only catches in his throat. He can never say no to Katara.
"… Fine," he mutters, and slips the piece of cloth over his eyes. His friends cheer as he adjusts the elastic. Across the hall, he sees his face reflected in a polished vase and he sighs; the color of the fabric is a bit darker than the shade of his skin and the angry red paint surrounding the wrong eye glows in the firelight.
The festival isn't as bad as he thought.
Sokka and Suki wandered off first, Sokka claiming he'd win her a plethora of game prizes; Toph and Aang later decided to challenge several of the street entertainers at juggling or acrobatics or perhaps both. Zuko stands with Katara in the middle of a crowd, sipping punch and watching a musician pluck delicate notes on a pipa, the gossamer sound of the strings weaving its way through the throng.
"We don't have this instrument in the Southern Water Tribe," Katara says. The air nips at their faces, the chill of night and the oncoming cold season, but she seems too entranced by the music to notice any possible cold. "It's beautiful."
Lantern light spills across her dark hair, framing it in brown and gold. Locks of it tumble freely down her shoulders and he wonders absentmindedly when it got so long. Then he realizes she is looking at him, waiting for a response. "… Yeah," he says, and coughs. "Um… we have some. In our house on Ember Island. Somewhere. I could get you one sometime… if you want."
Her eyes brighten. "Really? I'd love that, Zuko. Thank you."
She is smiling at him, her eyes shining ocean blue, her face glowing red, the ethereal melody of the pipa dancing through the air, and his words die in his throat. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, then opens it again, unsure of what to say, when—
"Whoops, sorry!"
A little boy runs into him, nearly knocking him over. Zuko's reflexes save him from tumbling into Katara but he nearly loses his balance. He catches himself in time and whirls around, frowning in the kid's general direction.
The kid has a mask on, but something about the voice sounded familiar. The little boy looks up and Zuko gets the impression he is grinning. "Great Prince Zuko costume!" he says. "And the scar's on the right side this time!"
He runs back into the crowd. Zuko's jaw drops, and next to him, Katara starts giggling.
"The scar is not on the right side!"