A/N
Warning: This story contains mentions of sexual assault, child abuse, and minor character deaths.
Another warning, Zuko is a bit of a dick in the beginning (so basically his season 1 self without the temper tantrums lol). Don't mind him, he'll grow out of it. Also, sorry in advance if there are any diction/grammar mistakes. English is my second language.
Zuko flexes his hands where they're clasped behind his back. The warm air carries the scent of sea and soot as it rustles through his heavy ceremonial robes. His gaze is fixed on the approaching blue-sailed, wooden ship cruising among the larger steel ones in the port.
"We're all going to rot here if they sail any slower," Azula drawls irritably beside him, inspecting her nails.
For once, he agrees with her.
"Have patience, darling," their mother says, standing straight on his other side. "Their ships rely on the wind unlike ours."
"I still don't understand why we have to stand here and wait for them. Those savages should be on their knees, kissing our boots that we're allowing one of them into our bloodline."
Ursa looks over Zuko toward Azula with slightly furrowed brows. "They are to be our relatives by law, Azula. We ought to treat them with respect."
The Princess simply rolls her eyes and crosses her arms in disdain. Zuko, for his part, maintains his brooding silence. What is there left for him to say, anyway? His father hadn't listened when he protested — begged, even — against this marriage, why should he exert any more effort? He's about to be shackled to a stranger for the rest of his life, and there's nothing he can do to change it.
He never expected to marry for love — such is the way of royalty. And he's aware he didn't have much time left before he was forced into one. At twenty years old, it's well past time he started producing heirs. Lu Ten had already fathered a child by the time he was Zuko's age. But Zuko had hoped he'd at least have a say in who he'd share a life with.
Alas, he is to wed not just any stranger but one from the Southern Water Tribe. The lowest of the low.
The insult couldn't be clearer.
"It'll keep the Southern fleet at bay," is how his father justified the proposition to Fire Lord Azulon and the court. "They may lack the numbers, but they inflict considerable damage on our naval expeditions and trade routes every year. If we hold the daughter of their chieftain here in the capital, they will not dare attack another of our ships."
But, really, everyone knows the truth. This marriage has nothing to do with international politics or strategy. If it did, he would've been wed to an Earth Kingdom or Northern Water princess. Their armies and navies far outclass the South's. No, this is a deliberate move to mock and humiliate Zuko. Show him and the world that he isn't worthy of marrying a Fire Nation noble like his forefathers.
He's heard rumors of the Southern barbarians — how they raid Fire Nation villages, slaughter the men, rape the women and children, and loot what they can before moving on to the next target. Some even say they eat the flesh of their victims. And in a fortnight, the daughter of their leader will be his wife. He'll bed her, and she'll bear his children.
What a fucking shitshow.
It's a clever stunt, he'll give his father that. It's not like he'll ever inherit the throne — he's only sixth in line behind his uncle, cousin, Lu Ten's two boys, and his father. And there's Azula, who eclipses him in every way. He'll probably end up becoming a general like Uncle, or a governor of a prominent colony like Lu Ten. His children with the Water Tribe girl will never sit on the throne. Their lowly blood will never mix into the main line of succession. The South will never get to manipulate a future Fire Lord through the ties of blood.
He releases a heavy breath, watching sullenly as the wooden ship finally docks. Now that it's closer, he can make out the figures on deck, though their features remain indistinct. All he can tell is that they're dressed in blue, and some are staring directly at the royal family and their procession, while others glance around the busy port.
As a gangplank nears the ship, Zuko feels a gentle hand rest on his shoulder blade.
"My dear," his mother's voice is soft, "I know this isn't what you imagined for yourself, and I can see how much it weighs on you. I, too, faced a similar situation when I married your father." Her fingers lightly lift his chin, guiding his face to hers. "Sometimes life takes us down paths we didn't choose — but in time, you may find that this decision may yet lead to something beautiful. I thought my life would be over when I was betrothed to your father, but that union has brought me you and your sister, the greatest joys of my life." Her lips curve into a small, reassuring smile. "Marriage is about more than just love, my son. It's about building a life together and learning to respect one another. It's a long and often arduous journey — but remember, I'll be here with you every step of the way."
Zuko can't help but mirror her smile. Somehow, she always knows what to say to ease his troubles.
"Ah, Zuzu, ever the dramatic," Azula chides with mock exasperation. "Yes, you'd better run to Mommy when you can't get your prick up in front of your wife."
Zuko's smile vanishes as his head snaps to his sister, his glare sharp as daggers. At the same time, their mother's voice slices through the air.
"Azula! Mind your tongue."
Azula huffs, mumbling under her breath, "What, I was just joking."
Zuko grinds his teeth, exhaling sharply through his nose as he shifts his attention back to the Water Tribe delegation. They've begun disembarking in a steady line. At the forefront is a tall, bulky man clad in blue armor, flanked by others of similar build and attire. Their faces are hard as stone, their stances rigid. Although no one is carrying a weapon, the entire group radiates an aura of hostility, as if they've come here for battle rather than a wedding.
Amidst the sea of armored men, one figure sticks out like a sore thumb — a young woman in a flowing blue robe, trailing behind the leading figure. She's not in armor like the others, yet her appearance is no more inviting. Her eyes are narrow as she surveys her surroundings, her mouth set in a firm scowl.
Must be Zuko's intended.
Hooray.
The delegation soon nears the dock where the three royals await, the area sealed off from the public by a perimeter of royal guards. As they draw closer, the woman's eyes lock on him, and it's unmistakable — he has never witnessed such raw, unadulterated hatred in his life. Her look is a piercing, visceral enmity, as if she blames him for every misfortune in her world.
She clearly despises this arrangement as much as he does. At least they have that in common.
The group, no more than twenty strong, halts a few paces away — and Zuko suppresses a sneer when none of them deign to bow before his family. It's an immense honor to be granted an audience with royalty, let alone marry into it, yet these people stand before them with their backs straight and their chins high. Bunch of ungrateful rascals.
The woman's gaze briefly flicks to Zuko's mother and sister before once more landing on him. He squeezes his fists tighter, so much so that his nails nearly dig into his skin. Azula, in contrast, shifts her weight onto one leg and casually rests her hands on her hips.
Their mother dons a warm smile and steps forward, opening her arms wide in greeting. "Welcome, Chief Hakoda and the esteemed warriors of the Southern Water Tribe. The Fire Nation is made ever brighter by your presence. I am Princess Ursa, wife of Prince Ozai."
"Princess Ursa," the man at the front inclines his head respectfully. His voice is deep and level, albeit much frostier than the Princess'. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance. On behalf of my tribe, I thank you for your warm welcome. I hope we have not caused you trouble."
Zuko is genuinely taken aback by the man's eloquence. Maybe it should've been obvious, given his status as a "world leader", but he's also the head of a pack of blood-thirsty wolf-men, isn't he? What could he possibly know of manners and civility, especially considering his people refuse to bow to their superiors?
"It is no trouble at all, Chief Hakoda," Ursa says. "We were eagerly anticipating your arrival."
The Chief offers her a curt smile while his blue eyes sweep over the Fire Nation royals. Those eyes, paired with his dark skin, seem to be a common trait among the Water Tribesmen. Zuko feels many of them on him at that very moment, assessing him with almost predatory scrutiny. He wonders how many of the men he could fend off if the situation were to escalate.
"Forgive me if I seem forward, Princess," the Chief says, "but I am wondering if Prince Ozai will be joining us?"
"Unfortunately, my husband was called away by the Fire Lord on urgent matters at the last minute," Ursa replies with practiced grace. "He was deeply disappointed to miss your arrival."
Lies. Ozai simply refused to be inconvenienced by the journey to the port, dismissing it beneath him to "greet some Water Tribe peasants."
It doesn't escape Zuko's notice that his mother refrains from extending an invitation to dinner. Under normal circumstances, she would have done so without hesitation to avoid dishonoring their guests, but Zuko can't fault her for the omission — it's probably wise to keep his father and the peasants as far apart as possible.
"I understand," Hakoda replies diplomatically, though the strain in his expression betrays his true feelings. "Ruling a nation demands a great deal."
"Indeed," Ursa agrees, smoothly shifting the focus as she turns slightly, gesturing toward her children. "Allow me to present my son, Prince Zuko, and my daughter, Princess Azula."
Hakoda acknowledges the Prince with a respectful nod, which Zuko returns. He harbors no admiration for the man, but he knows better than to instigate even more animosity between their people. When Hakoda nods to Azula, she pointedly looks away.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Chief Hakoda," Zuko says to gloss over Azula's blatant disrespect.
"Likewise." Hakoda turns and extends a hand toward the young woman standing just behind him. "May I introduce my daughter, Katara."
As her name is called, the woman steps forward, her blue eyes still burning into him. Her hair is gathered into a neat braid at the back of her head, with two strands curving around the sides of her face. Zuko's gaze meets hers, and despite the palpable tension charging the air between them, he inclines his head.
"My lady."
She remains quiet, her lips pressed into a thin line while she glares at him. The silence stretches uncomfortably until Hakoda discreetly nudges her in the ribs with his elbow.
Reluctantly, she looks at the cobblestones beneath her brown boots and responds, "Prince Zuko."
Her voice is cold, clipped. The formality does nothing to mask her hatred.
Silence once again hangs heavily between the two factions. Eyes dart nervously, each person ensnared in the uncomfortable shadow of a century of war and bloodshed. The air is thick with unease, each passing second seeming to draw out into eternity.
Finally, Azula cuts through it with a sharp, sarcastic snort. "Agni, this is excruciating."
That's the second time Zuko agrees with his sister today. Truly an unprecedented moment in history.
Thankfully, their mother swoops in to save everyone from the awkward limbo. "You and your entourage must be weary from your journey, Chief Hakoda. We have prepared quarters for all of you within the palace." She gestures toward the line of palanquins and komodorhino-drawn carriages waiting for them. "Shall we?"
Hakoda nods appreciatively. "That would be most welcome, Princess. Thank you for your gracious hospitality."
With that, both groups embark on the short walk toward the waiting transports. Zuko holds back a sigh of relief, grateful that the gathering is finally over. He doesn't know how much more of it he could've endured.
As he strides toward his palanquin, Azula sidles up beside him, her voice a low, teasing whisper in his ear. "Mmm, I smell love brewing."
Zuko doesn't dignify her with a response. He simply quickens his pace, sits in his palanquin, and yanks the curtains shut.
Zuko hurries into the dining hall through the grand door that opens for him. The hall is hushed, save for the quiet clinking of chopsticks against porcelain as his father, mother, and sister eat their dinner. Immediately, his father's fierce golden eyes flit to him. They track Zuko's every step while a servant pulls out his chair.
Chewing on a piece of meat, Ozai raises his goblet and takes a sip. "You're late," he remarks coldly, setting the goblet down with a soft clink and returning his attention to his plate.
"My apologies, Father," Zuko says as he settles into his seat. "Master Tiru and I lost track of time while sparring. It won't happen again."
"No, it won't."
The servants place his meal before him, and Zuko quickly begins eating. The silence lingers for a minute before his father breaks it again.
"I hear you had quite an interesting time at the port this morning."
And it has stayed in his thoughts for the rest of the day.
The Water Tribe people aren't at all what he had imagined. He isn't sure what he'd expected — probably something like wild, barbaric cavemen who could barely string two sentences together. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't… this. Sure, they look different, their attire and ships are unlike he's ever seen, and they have a subtle accent — but, beyond these superficial differences, they seem surprisingly similar to his own people.
But maybe that's where their true power lies. Maybe their greatest weapon is their ability to appear as ordinary humans, only to unleash their inner beasts at night, much like the wolves they so revere.
"Yes," he replies to his father. "I met Chief Hakoda, and," the next words momentarily get caught in his throat, "my betrothed."
Ozai looks up from his plate, impassive. "And how did you find her?"
Zuko struggles for an answer. Hateful? Angry? Possibly even a little intimidating? He'll eventually have to lay with her, and he has no idea what she may attempt if he lets down his guard for a moment.
Would she dare attack him? Does she know how to fight?
"She's… nice."
Azula puffs out a laugh.
"Oh, absolutely," she says, staring at her plate.
Zuko clenches his jaw. He refuses to give her the satisfaction of seeing him lose his temper.
"She's probably under a lot of stress," their mother chimes in, "leaving her home and family to come to a country her tribe has been at war with for a century. It's understandable she might be unsettled. If we give her the time and space to adjust, she might come around sooner than we assume."
Ozai's expression hardens. "Quit defending the heathen, woman. What it feels is of no consequence."
Ursa visibly deflates before Zuko's eyes. Her shoulders sag, and she exhales a weary sigh and leans back in her seat, her appetite lost. Zuko glances at his father, who continues his meal without a care.
Zuko's fingers curl tighter around his chopsticks. Why can't his family go five minutes without some sort of quarrel? Why can't his father show a shred of love toward his mother?
Is this the future that awaits him? A marriage stripped of affection and filled with endless disputes, played out before their children? Is this the kind of husband and father he'll be? The kind whose wife and kids are too afraid to speak up against?
The remainder of the dinner passes without much chatter. As soon as his father finishes his meal and heads off, Zuko rises and leaves after him. He's on his way to his chambers when his mother calls after him.
"We didn't get a chance to talk after this morning," she says as she comes to a stop before him. "Our guests have settled into their chambers. Tomorrow, I'll personally give them a tour of the palace after breakfast. Would you like to join us? It would be an opportunity for you to get to know your betrothed and her family better." A knowing smile plays at the corners of her lips. "You could even spend some time alone with her afterward. Perhaps have lunch together in the gardens?"
Zuko tilts his head to the side and shoots her a deadpan stare. "Mom, didn't you see how she was looking at me? She hates me. I don't think any amount of palace tours or private lunches is going to change that. And why do you bother with appeasing her people, anyway? They've already agreed to the marriage. We'll wed whether they like it or not."
Ursa exhales slowly. She reaches out, taking his hands gently in her own.
"Zuko, you're going to raise children with that girl. I know neither of you is fond of the other, but try to understand her situation and give her a chance to warm up to you. Empathy and patience are the two pillars of a successful relationship." She leans closer, her face growing more serious. "You don't have to love or spend every minute of the day with her. Nobody is expecting that of you. Just… trust me, it's better that you two at least get along before you share a life together."
Zuko feels his heart tighten at the way she speaks. There's a depth and earnestness in it that makes him wonder just how much of this advice comes from her regrets, her desires to rewrite her own marriage.
With a sigh, he lowers his head. "Okay, I promise I'll try. But I can't join you tomorrow — I have the final fitting for my wedding kimono in the morning."
Her face softens. She shines him a bittersweet smile as she lifts a hand to caress his unscarred cheek.
"Look at you," she breathes, her face flooded with pride, "my little dragon is all grown up and getting married." She lets go of her breath. "I couldn't be prouder of you."
Despite himself, Zuko's lips twitch into a shy smile — but it fades quickly when he notices the servants and guards discreetly watching them from the shadows.
"Mom…" he murmurs with playful reprimand. He can't afford to look too soft, not with so many eyes on him. He has a reputation to maintain, after all.
Ursa chuckles. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you be." Still beaming, she reaches up to kiss his forehead, and he instinctively bends down to let her. "Goodnight, turtleduck. I'll see you at breakfast."
Though he doesn't allow himself to return her smile, he knows she can read it in his eyes. "Goodnight."