ZUKO

"GIVE IT BACK! You’re going to break it, and then Mother will—stop it! You’re so annoying!"

Zuko’s voice was a high-pitched shriek of pure, unadulterated frustration with pink cheeks. The shriek vibrated out of the eight-year-old prince with enough energy he could muster. He was a blur of crimson silk and flailing limbs, skidding across the slick stone tiles as he chased you around.

You didn't stop. You couldn't. The bubble of laughter in your chest was too large to contain, pivoting on one heel and dancing just out of his reach. The great turtle-duck pond hissed behind you, a curtain of cool mist catching in your hair as you looked back over your shoulder, your eyes bright with triumph.

"You have to catch me first, Zuko! I’m the Blue Spirit now—you’ll never find me!"

He let out another frustrated cry—half-shriek, half-growl—and threw himself forward in a desperate, clumsy tackle. You dodged him with a sharp sideways skip, leaving him to stumble against the pond's edge. He splashed into the shallow basin, arms flailing.

"{user}!!"

The memory flickered and died, leaving the heat of the sun to be replaced by the cool breeze of the present.

Zuko remained standing by the same fountain in the royal gardens, though it felt much smaller now. It engulfed him before.

He remembered the aftermath. The way the turtle-ducks, offended by his intrusion into their water, had nipped relentlessly at his damp robes. Zuko remembered stomping back into the palace, dripping and fuming, only to be met by his mother’s bewildered expression.

Ursa had knelt to dry his face, hiding a smile behind her hand as he ranted about the "unfairness" of you stealing his stuff.

A low, quiet chuckle vibrated in Zuko’s chest.

He was no longer that boy.

Now, the weight of the Fire Lord’s attire with heavy, formal layers. He stood with his hands tucked into his wide sleeves, his posture regal and practiced.

The gentle wind pulled at the loose strands of his dark hair, whipping them across his face scar.

For a brief moment, only for a second, Zuko forgot why he was here in the first place.

His hands, usually so steady when guiding the flame, felt slick and clumsy. His fingers brushing the cool banded metal he had crafted himself.

It wasn't a masterpiece of the Royal Goldsmiths.

It didn't boast the heavy, aggressive rubies of his father’s era or the cold, perfect gold of his grandfather’s.

Certainly wasn't his mother's ring.

His mind drifted back to those dreams as a child about her. If she were here, perhaps he would have asked for her ring as a blessing. If he found love. Big if. But now, that thought tainted. The ring that represented the union between Ursa and Ozai wasn't a happy relic.

He didn't want a relic of a broken relationship to define his future with you.

Three years. It felt like a lifetime had passed since he was seventeen, freshly crowned. But your history went back further, surviving the impossible. From being a brief childhood rival to a close friend, from a ghost of his past and his girlfriend.

Zuko regretted when, during his banishment, he had intentionally severed the tether between you.

The stacks of parchment Zuko remembered making on the wani yet never truly completed.

He had started dozens of letters—I’m okay, I’m in the Earth Kingdom, I miss —only to hold them over a candle flame until they curled into blackened flakes.

Honor, Zuko convinced himself, was a finite thing and no longer earned the right for your affection when he lost it. Reaching out to you as a disgraced prince would stain your image.

He had spent those nights staring at the horizon, imagining you moving on, perhaps finding someone else. It was a self-imposed exile within an exile. He had tried to kill his love for you because he didn't believe he was worthy of keeping it.

Now, realizing honor wasn't something granted by someone else, like his father, but given to himself. He rethought everything, feeling a steady pulse of loyalty to you.

A pebble skittered across the walkway nearby. Zuko's posture instinctively straightened and he smoothed the front of his robes one last time.

You were here.

The gravel crunched rhythmically as you rounded the corner of the garden path. You looked comfortable. Vibrant and at ease. Your casual silks, adorned with small beads that clicked softly as you moved, carried no responsibility that he carries in comparison.

You raised an eyebrow at him, your lips curling into a playful, knowing smile that seemed to ask why, of all the places in the sprawling palace, he had summoned you to this specific fountain.

"Hey," you greeted him, lightheartedly.

Zuko felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward in an automatic response. "Hey," he replied, his voice a little lower than usual as he tried to anchor his nerves. "I'm glad you came."

"Of course I did. I'm sorry I haven't been around the last few days," you said, You glanced at the fountain and then back at him, your fragrance made his mind go blank, "My family had me tied up with some nonsense back home. I feel like I've barely seen you."

"It’s fine," he says deliberately, trying to play the part of a man who just wanted a afternoon with his girlfriend, "You didn't miss much over here."

His heart was hammering—a frantic, uneven rhythm that threatened to choke him. The desperate urge to change the subject increased, so his stilted answers didn't give him away.

"You know," he started, his voice a little rougher than he intended. "You were really annoying."

He winced.

You blinked, a laugh bubbling in your throat. "Rude."

"When I first met you," Zuko added quickly, cheeks pink, "I mean—when we were kids."

He gestured vaguely toward the splashing turtle-ducks.

"Right there. The first time we met you had me trip and fall face-first into the water. I spent the rest of the afternoon getting dried off by my mother. She wondered why I was soaking wet and was attacked by them."

You let out a soft snort, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I remember," you said, your voice humming with a playful lilt. "Though, to be fair, I was mostly just trying to impress Azula back then. Being in her orbit meant targeting the Prince was the quickest way to stay in her good graces. I didn't realize back then that I’d actually end up liking the person I was messing with."

You suddenly wondered why on earth his mind had wandered back to that.

Zuko took a half-step closer, his expression messy. It was a human tangle of contradiction: eyes held a sudden, sharp clarity, yet his hands were shaking inside those heavy sleeves.

"I thought about it a lot," he admitted lowly, "In the years when I was away... I thought about how much time my younger self wasted being angry at you for stupid things like that. How much time I lost because I didn't know how to be your friend then when I finally did I had so little time left."

Zuko’s gaze dropped to the ground for a second before snapping back to yours, his expression raw. Exposing a man who had spent too many nights staring at the dark sea.

"When I was banished... I spent every day convincing myself that I didn't have the honor to even think of you," he expressed, voice strained. "I hid everything. I buried how I felt so deep because I was ashamed. I thought if I reached out, I’d only pull down with me."

Zuko was so close that he saw the reflection of the sun in your eyes. "When I came back, and you actually took me back... I didn't think I could ever be this happy. These last three years, being loved by you while I try to fix everything my family broke—it’s the only reason I’ve made it this far."

He paused, his chest rising and falling sharply. "I’ve adjusted to the throne. I’ve learned how to rule. But I don't want to just rule a nation. I want to rule it with you. I know it would be better—I know I would be better—if you were there for all of it. Not standing from the outside looking in."

The realization hit you like a water-bender wave.

Your breath hitched, and you felt the sudden, dizzying rush of blood to your cheeks. You didn't want to jump to conclusions, to assume a life-changing question was coming when it could just be a deep conversation.

"Zuko," you stammered, your hands fluttering pointlessly before you gripped the fabric of your silks. "I—I don’t... where are you going with this."

Zuko’s hand finally emerged from the heavy silk of his sleeve. In his palm sat the ring, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to that large circle of gold.

He had worked the metal with his own fire. A manifestation of his own hands, his own breath, and his own struggle.

He held it out toward you.

"I love you," he said, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of the words. "I've loved you since I was a boy tripping into that pond, and I loved you every day I was alone at sea and I loved you when I stopped my father for good."

He swallowed hard, his golden eyes searching yours with a vulnerability that was almost painful to witness.

"I want to be yours," Zuko proposes, "And I want you to be mine. If you’ll have me... if you’ll stay."