Zuko twists his body at the last second, narrowly dodging the fireball that scorches the air past his head. In one fluid motion, he counters with a spinning kick and sends a blazing arc of fire hurtling toward his sparring partner. The soldier blocks it, but the impact leaves him visibly unsteady. Zuko seizes the moment, unleashing a relentless flurry of strikes. Fire flows from his hands and feet with ferocious precision, each attack more intense than the last. The soldier struggles to keep up, deflecting and countering as their flames dance and collide.
Zuko's breath comes in sharp, controlled bursts, fueling the fire that surges from his fists. He lunges forward, a swift and deadly strike aimed at the soldier's armored chest. The man stumbles back, knocked off balance by the sheer force of his prince's attack. Sensing weakness, Zuko sweeps his fire at the soldier's ankles, forcing him to retreat in a panic — and in that brief moment of vulnerability, Zuko strikes.
A powerful blast of fire slams into the soldier's gut and sends him crashing to the ground. Zuko advances on him in an instant, towering over the man with fists ablaze. The flames lick at his knuckles as he aims them squarely at his opponent's chest. Grimacing, the soldier stares up at Zuko for a moment before nodding his head in resignation.
The duel is over — Zuko is victorious yet again.
His lips curl into a cocky grin as he extends a hand to his fallen opponent and pulls him to his feet. The man bows deeply, and Zuko returns the gesture, though his bow is shallower.
"Excellent form, Your Highness!" Master Tiru's voice rings out from behind. "At this rate, you will have me out of my job in no time!"
Zuko turns to face the approaching older man carrying a canteen and a clean towel. With a soft chuckle, he accepts the canteen.
"You can always take up knitting, Master. I hear it's very relaxing."
The old master bursts into hearty laughter while Zuko takes a long swig of water, draining half the canteen in a few quick gulps. Layers of sweat glisten on his skin, made only worse by the sparring armor he wears and the intense heat of the fight. He takes the towel from his master and wipes it across his face.
After a brief discussion about the techniques they'll cover tomorrow, the master and apprentice exchange bows and part ways. Zuko heads into the building by the sparring arena and swiftly washes away the sweat and dirt. Soon, his attendants are at his side, dressing him in his daily robes. They're just finishing up securing his three-pronged headpiece into his top knot when a servant steps into the room and bows deeply.
"Prince Zuko?"
"Yes?" he responds, staring at the body-length mirror in front of him.
"Prince Lu Ten and his family have arrived at the palace. His Highness requested that I inform Your Highness at once."
Zuko's eyes widen as much as physically possible.
Lu Ten had written he wouldn't be able to come to the Fire Nation until a few days before the wedding. There's still a little over a week remaining.
Zuko snaps his head to the servant, lips twitching into a smile. "When? When did they arrive?"
"During your sparring session, Your Highness."
His heart races as his grin widens. "Where are they?"
"In Their Highnesses' chambers, Your Highness."
Zuko doesn't waste another second before he bolts out of the room. He practically sprints across the gardens to the palace, and doesn't slow down even as he takes the stairs two at a time.
He doesn't bother keeping up his act his act of aloofness in front of the bowing servants he rushes past. It's been almost a year since he last saw his cousin and the kids — and right now, that's all that matters.
Once he reaches his cousin's quarters, the guards by the door swing it open right away. Inside the vast room, Lu Ten is giving instructions to the servants unpacking a mountain of chests stacked by the wall while his two sons run around, lost in their own world. The moment Zuko bursts in, Lu Ten's eyes cut to him and his face breaks into a broad grin.
"There's the groom!" He strides over to Zuko. "Took you long enough to greet us!"
Zuko walks to meet him halfway, beaming. "You should've told me you were coming earlier, then. I was sparring."
They embrace in the middle of the room, laughing as they slap each other's backs.
"Can a man not surprise his favorite cousin?" Lu Ten teases when they step back from the embrace, hand lingering on Zuko's shoulder.
Zuko chuckles. "Don't let Azula hear that."
"Look!" he hears one of the two young princes shout excitedly. "It's Cousin Zuko!"
He turns to find Mizo, the 8-year-old, dashing at him with a bright smile. Right behind him, his 5-year-old brother Saozu follows closely. "Zuko!"
"Come here!" Zuko calls out to both, dropping to one knee and spreading his arms wide. The boys rush into his embrace and wrap their tiny arms around his neck. He pulls them close and kisses the tops of their heads. Their shared laughter fills the room.
"Let me take a look at you," Zuko says, leaning back. Both boys have gotten significantly taller since he last saw them. Mizo, now older, increasingly resembles his father, while Saozu takes more after his mother. "You've both grown so much!"
"Check this out!" Saozu exclaims, raising his arms to shoulder level and flexing them. He stares eagerly at Zuko for approval.
"Wow!" Zuko gives the boy's arm a playful squeeze. "You'll be stronger than me soon!"
Saozu grins proudly. "I'll be a soldier like Grandpa!"
Meanwhile, Mizo is tugging at the sleeve of Zuko's robe.
"Zuko, Zuko, look!" He grins widely, scrunching his whole face, and points to the gap left by a missing tooth. His words come out slurred as he speaks with his mouth open. "My tooth fell out while we were coming here!"
Zuko laughs at their antics.
Agni, how he's missed the little beasts.
"That's enough, boys," their mother interferes gently. "Give Cousin Zuko a moment to catch his breath."
Zuko looks up to see Princess Sei entering the room from an adjacent one. The children's faces fall and they reluctantly step back, but their disappointment is short-lived as they soon resume running around.
Zuko rises to his feet, still smiling. "Princess."
"We're not in public, dear," she replies warmly, walking toward him. "There's no need for such formality."
She pulls him into a hug, which he returns with equal fondness.
"How was your journey?" Zuko asks while Lu Ten steps up beside them, slipping an arm around Sei's waist.
She waves a dismissive hand. "Oh, it was nothing we haven't done a hundred times over. But," she rests a hand on her slightly swollen stomach, "I'm afraid I'm starting to get a little too pregnant for all this traveling. If it were up to me, I would've stayed here until the birth, but Lu can't be away from Omashu for too long." She glances around cautiously, then leans in closer, lowering her voice so the servants won't overhear. "The rebels grow bolder in his absence."
"You worry too much about them, my love," Lu Ten tells her. "I can't be away because I govern the second largest city on the continent, not because of some feeble rebel attacks here and there. Those thugs aren't nearly as formidable as they pretend to be."
Sei turns to her husband with concern wrinkling her brows. "I worry because our children live there."
Lu Ten sighs softly and presses a reassuring kiss to her temple. "I wouldn't let anything happen to any of you."
As Zuko watches them, he feels his joy falter a little and a pang of envy bubble up deep in his chest.
Lu Ten and Sei are among the handful of couples in the royal family's history that married for love rather than duty — though it certainly helped that Sei is also the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the nation and a major supplier of steel for the army. Zuko, however? He will never have a loving, supportive relationship like theirs. He will never come home after a long day and go running into his wife's arms.
He's happy for his cousin. Really, he is. Would it hurt, though, to have such joy in his own life too?
Sei lets out a heavy breath, but her smile quickly returns. "Anyway, how have you been?" Mischief glints in her brown eyes. "We got your good news. Congratulations! We're so excited that you're starting a family!"
Zuko's mood sours instantly.
He resists the urge to scoff sarcastically, forcing the edges of his lips to stay up. "Thank you."
"Dad's really upset he can't make it to the wedding," Lu Ten adds. "He sent you chests full of presents to make up for it. They're already in your chambers."
Zuko wouldn't expect anything less from his uncle, although he'd much rather have the old man here in person instead. They haven't seen each other since Uncle set off to besiege Ba Sing Se nearly two years ago — his attendance at the wedding would've been the only bright side to this whole arrangement.
"I'll write to him to give my thanks."
"So, have you met the bride yet?" Sei asks curiously.
Zuko can't hold back his grimace this time. "Yeah."
"That bad, huh?" Lu Ten says, mirroring his expression.
"Worse."
Sei knits her brows. "How so?"
Zuko shrugs, glancing off to the side. "I don't know. She hates me for some reason. I mean, I get it — our nations are at war — but I don't think she realizes that this marriage is a step toward peace and a greater honor than her tribe could ever hope for."
Sei offers him a sympathetic look, while Lu Ten claps him on the shoulder.
"Hey, don't beat yourself up over it," he says. "If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. You'll only occasionally have to bear with her, anyway."
That much is true. Their relationship seems to be unfolding that way already. Zuko hasn't spoken to her since her arrival in the Fire Nation, hasn't so much as caught a glimpse of her in passing. Not because he couldn't — frankly, he's had ample leisure time between his duties and wedding preparations. He's simply chosen to avoid her, despite the promise he made to his mother.
There's a lifetime ahead of them, he tells himself. Surely, there'll be plenty of chances to break the ice.
"I guess so," he mumbles, exhaling a deep breath before forcing another smile. "But enough about me. How're things in Omashu?"
The three of them move to sit at the sofas by the windows and chat about what they've been up to during their time apart. The sun draws an arc in the sky while they talk, laugh, and have lunch together with the kids. Lu Ten and Sei share the challenges they faced in Omashu, like having to raise taxes to support the Siege of Ba Sing Se and the ensuing spike in revolts. Zuko tells them of the mining disaster in Hun Qan that claimed 19 lives and left many more injured, along with the typhoon that wrecked several villages.
By the time Zuko excuses himself, the sun is already dipping toward the horizon. He moves through the various rooms of the chambers with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. It's been so long since he's experienced such genuine happiness, such respite from the pressures of court life and his princely duties. Yet, despite the warmth of the moment, one unpleasant thought lingers in the back of his mind.
Katara. That's her name, isn't it? His betrothed. The mother of his future children.
He still has no idea what to do with her — why she harbors such profound hatred for him. Deep down, he's well aware he can't evade confronting her indefinitely, regardless of how much he may wish to. It's not just a matter of duty but a necessity if he's to make this arrangement work. He fights enough battles in court as it is — there's no need to add another front.
If he must talk to her, if there's truly no escape, it's better to get it out of the way quickly. The faster he clears this obstacle from his path, the sooner he can redirect his energy to the more pressing battles that await him. Besides, he's in an extraordinarily good mood today — might as well take advantage of it.
He exits the chambers with a sigh and orders one of the attendants who's bowing to him, "Send word to my intended that I expect her for dinner in my chambers."
"Will Your Highness be dining alone with the lady?"
Unfortunately.
"Yes."
The man doesn't rise from his bow as he retreats backward. Zuko turns and makes for his chambers, bracing himself for the evening ahead.
Maybe he was wrong about her. Maybe he's overestimating her hostility. Maybe it won't be as dreadful as he thinks.
Zuko stands with his arms crossed, observing the servants prepare the long table in the dining room of his chambers. They arrange two servings of plates and goblets, as well as pitchers of wine and candles.
A knock sounds on the door, and when Zuko nods to the guards, they open it to reveal the Water Tribe woman standing at the threshold. She still wears her blue robe. Her hair is braided again, and her head is held high.
Their gazes meet for a brief moment — gold clashing with blue — before she lowers her eyes to the floor. Her sentiments toward him clearly haven't changed since their last encounter, if the animosity and coldness etched in her features are anything to go by.
She steps into the room with confident steps, a couple of handmaidens tailing behind. The servants pause momentarily their tasks to bow to her. Zuko uncrosses his arms, clasping his hands behind his back instead.
"Good evening, my lady," he says with a carefully measured tone.
"Good evening," she replies, not meeting his gaze as she takes a seat in the chair a servant pulls out for her.
Zuko is appalled by her lack of manners. Not only does she continue to refuse to curtsy to him, but she also doesn't address him by his title and sits down before he does. Still, he brushes aside the breach in etiquette and takes his seat at the opposite end of the table.
He promised his mother to be understanding.
The servants scurry around to pour them wine, light the candles, and bring the meal to the table. Zuko's gaze keeps flitting between the table and his intended. He's acutely aware of the thick wall of ice between each other.
Though he can predict the futility of his efforts, he attempts to converse.
"Were you able to rest well, my lady?"
Katara inhales deeply, the corded muscles of her throat becoming more pronounced. He can almost hear the curses she's muttering in her mind.
She responds with her eyes fixed on her empty plate, "Yes, thank you."
There's an awkward pause as the conversation dies prematurely.
"I hope you are enjoying your chambers," Zuko tries again. "My mother took great care to ensure they are comfortable for you."
He notices her hands curl into a fist. Simultaneously, he also notices that she has her elbows on the table.
Agni, he really needs to have a word with his mother about teaching the woman some manners.
"They are," she replies, her voice clipped. "She is very kind."
Zuko debates whether or not to correct her choice of words. He doesn't want her to detest him more than she already does, but the sooner she learns the appropriate way to address his family, the better.
"Her Highness," he says, keeping his tone polite.
Katara finally meets his eyes, shooting him a puzzled glance.
"The proper way to refer to a member of the royal family is 'His Highness' or 'Her Highness'. For the Fire Lord, it's 'His Majesty'. If speaking directly to them, you would need to use 'Your Highness' or 'Your Majesty'. It is important that you stick to these conventions."
A fire ignites behind her eyes. The internal fight she gives against a sneer and a nasty retort is plain for all to see. Her knuckles turn white as she clenches her fists. Whatever disdain she felt for him before, it's tenfold now.
It's no matter. If she's to become royalty, she'll have to abide by the rules like everyone else.
Once the servants complete their tasks and all but two take their places along the walls, Katara huffs out a sharp breath, picks up her chopsticks with more force than necessary, and goes to grab a serving from the platter of komodo sausages in front of her.
Zuko's eyes widen in genuine horror. "What are you doing?!"
She shoots him a glare.
"What does it look like?"
For a moment, his composure slips at her brazen disrespect. He waves sharply at the servants standing by the table.
"I don't know how things are done in your village, but here, we don't serve our own food."
She casts a glance at the servants. Her steely eyes then cut back to him.
"Why? Are you incapable of it?"
A handmaid gasps. The rest of the servants stiffen, their expressions frozen in shock.
Zuko's eyes narrow into slits. Despite his efforts to be cordial, she's done nothing but scorn him — and now she dares to insult him openly in front of his subjects.
His expression hardens and his voice turns icy. "You would do well to remember you're speaking to a prince of the Fire Nation."
"Or what? What will you do that you haven't done to me already?"
Zuko grates his teeth. His inner fire flares and a storm of anger begins to brew within him.
Had anyone spoken to him like this a few years ago, he would have challenged them to a duel and then had them kicked out of the city.
Yet, beneath all the fire and indignation, he senses that there's more to her hostility than mere resentment. He hasn't crossed any lines with her, so it can't be personal. Is this about their engagement, then? The prospect of spending the rest of her life in the Fire Nation?
Whatever the case may be, he doubts she'll talk about it with an audience present. If he wants to understand the true source of her rage, he'll need to speak with her privately.
Without severing eye contact with her, he turns his head to the servants and orders, "Leave us."
They oblige without a second's delay. The servants and handmaids hurry out of the room in a single file. The guards are the last to exit, closing the door behind them.
Alone at last, Zuko drops his facade of politeness, sinking back into his chair. He places his fists on the armrests, gaze locked on Katara. She mimics his posture, sitting back and crossing her arms.
The room falls into silence, save for the sound of him cracking his knuckles on one hand with his thumb. They study each other with mutual loathing.
It's Zuko who eventually breaks the silence, his tone calm but carrying a stern edge. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Katara only scoffs, averting her gaze.
"I understand it wasn't your decision to marry me," he says, "but there's no point in throwing a tantrum about it now. What's done is done."
Her head whips to him. An inferno is blazing behind her eyes.
"A tantrum?" Her voice rises as she bares her teeth. "A tantrum?!" She jumps to her feet, breathing heavily through her nose, fists balled at her sides. "Don't pretend to understand what I'm going through. You know nothing about me. You have no idea what I had to leave behind to come here."
"So what? There's nothing but snow and ice where you're from. You would've probably starved to death — or however you people die down there — if we didn't take you in. But you choose to insult and defy me in my own palace instead of thanking me."
Katara lets out a growl, turning away and tangling her fingers in her hair. "You ashmakers and your arrogance!"
She whirls back to face him, her hair now slightly disheveled from her fingers tugging at the braid. Her eyes are aflame as she jabs a finger into her chest. "Has it ever occurred to you that I was happy there?! I had a family, a community I loved! I wouldn't have traded them for the world!"
"And yet here you are." Zuko tilts his head. "Tell me, how much gold did it take for you to trade them?"
"Gol—" She stares at him, incredulous. "You think I did this for gold?! We never asked for your bloodstained money!" Her face twists in disgust as she throws a hand toward him. "But that's just who you people are — you do anything you want, then blame others for complying!"
The slander grates against every nerve, but he forces himself to restrain his simmering rage. He refuses to stoop to her level.
"What did you do it for, then?" His voice is rising too, regardless of his efforts. "Honor? Pride?"
Katara's fury reaches a breaking point as she throws her arms wide.
"BECAUSE YOUR PEOPLE WERE GONNA MASSACRE MINE IF I DIDN'T ACCEPT!"
Zuko puffs out a sharp laugh, looking away to dismiss the notion. "Nonsense."
Her chest rises and falls rapidly while she gives him the death glare.
"Believe what you want," she spits through gritted teeth. "It's the truth."
Zuko's lip curls in irritation as he turns back to face her, his patience wearing thin. "We paid for your hand in marriage and agreed to an indefinite ceasefire. Your men are back home, and your decrepit little tribe is rebuilding thanks to us. The only side that came out of this arrangement with any profit is yours. What more do you want?"
"You're a fool if you think those promises will be kept."
Zuko's eye twitches.
His inner fire explodes through its confines. The flickering flames of the candles on the table surge high. His fingers curl tightly around the armrests. His body temperature rises.
How dare she. Who does this barbarian think she is?
"You will speak to me with respect." The words are a low, dangerous rumble.
Katara is unfazed by the flaring of the candles. Her breathing is slowing down as she regains some of her composure.
She raises her chin defiantly. "You don't deserve my respect."
Zuko tastes ash in his mouth. Feels his palms sear the armrests. Smells the scorched wood. Waves of heat emanate from his entire body.
With a growl ripping from his throat, he springs to his feet and slams his palms on the table. The force rattles the dishes. His eyes blaze as he leans over the table.
"Listen to me, you ungrateful brute. You were nothing before we found you — just another nobody from a nation no one cares about. If it weren't for this ridiculous arrangement, you'd still be wallowing in that miserable hellhole you call home. You should be on your knees, thanking us for the decency we've shown you, not biting the hand that saved your wretched life and your pitiful excuse for a tribe from the brink of extinction. You owe your entire existence to our mercy."
He clenches his jaw tightly, his nostrils flaring with each breath. "I've shown you nothing but courtesy since you arrived — made you royalty in the greatest nation the world has ever known. And yet you have the audacity to stand here and tell me I don't deserve your respect?" He points a finger at her. "You're nothing, and you will remain nothing if you continue down this path of insolence. So I suggest you start showing some gratitude for being granted a life most people can only dream of, and learn some basic manners while you're at it."
Katara's fury simmers beneath a mask of calm as she listens to his tirade. Her fists remain clenched at her sides, though her breathing is steadier.
"Do you really think you can degrade everything I've ever known and loved, and still demand respect from me?" she snaps, her tone is fierce yet measured. "And why should I thank you for dragging me away from my family and forcing me into a life I never wanted?"
She takes a deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes, trying to maintain her poise. When she opens them again, her gaze is stony. "If you want respect, earn it. Don't hide behind your title and expect everyone to bow down without question. Right now, all I see in front of me is a spoiled prince who knows nothing about the real world, and who's more concerned with his pride than morality." She narrows her eyes. "Until you prove to me that you understand what it means to be human, don't expect anything from me. If you want respect, start by showing a shred of empathy."
Zuko's rage burns hotter the longer she speaks — but when he opens his mouth to fire back, the words fail him. The icy, unwavering edge in the way she speaks is unlike he's ever encountered from someone so beneath him in status, and it momentarily throws him off balance.
He catches himself quickly, though, forcing his emotions back under control. Instead of lashing out in anger, he straightens. A sneer curls his lips.
"You take me for a heartless monster. Fine. If that's how you choose to see me, so be it. I don't need your approval, and I certainly don't need your affection. But whether you like it or not, you will learn to respect me and the position I hold. If you can't see beyond your own grievances to acknowledge that, then that's your failing, not mine."
His voice turns razor-sharp. "Let me ask you this, though — what do you reckon will happen if the Fire Lord finds out you've been insulting his grandson? Hmm? Not just to you but to your entire tribe?" He taps his temple in a gesture of urging her to think. "Did you ever stop to consider that he might use your impertinence as a reason for retaliation against those people you love so much? That there might be consequences you can't even begin to imagine?"
Katara's expression shifts almost imperceptibly, but Zuko catches it — the way her eyes widen just a fraction and the rigid line of her mouth falters. For a second there, her guise of defiance cracks, revealing her true feelings — fear. Not for herself, but for her people.
Her breath hitches and her gaze flickers, no longer fixed on him with that same cold, hardened intensity. In her eyes, Zuko can see the battle between her pride and the instinct to protect those she cares about.
He's touched a nerve. The satisfaction of it is almost too gratifying.
Zuko scoots out of the space between his chair and the table, and begins to approach her. Instantly, she stiffens and glues her eyes on the wall behind him. Her mask of defiance returns as she visibly mends the chink in her armor.
He comes to a stop beside her, positioning his body parallel to the table, and leans in. She doesn't tear her gaze from the wall despite his uncomfortable proximity.
"Here's my advice to you, sweetheart," he spits the word like venom. "Keep your thoughts to yourself. You're not in your village anymore — you never know who might be listening around here, or what their intentions are. Trust me, it'll save you a lot of headaches in the future."
He doesn't linger around to gauge her reaction. With a final, disdainful glance, he strides to the door, wrenches it open, and slams it shut behind him.