Fire Lord Zuko had lived a life defined by duty-first to his nation, then to his family. With peace restored and his throne secure, it was time for the next step: marriage and heirs. The need to tie his personal life to his responsibilities weighed...
I couldn't hear his voice, but the weight of it pressed against me—cold, distant, like the bitter wind that sweeps across the frozen sea.
Anzan, my brother, stood before me, yet he felt like a stranger wrapped in the skin of someone I once loved. The boy I had grown up beside—the boy with the easy smile and laughter that could thaw the iciest day—was gone. In his place was a man whose eyes no longer softened when they met mine, whose presence carried a hollowness I could feel more than see. I'd never heard him speak in such coldness.
And I never will.
His lips moved, shaping words that felt heavy with caution but empty of affection.
Be careful tonight. Keep your distance. Stay close to Mother.
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The warning was clear, though his voice remained lost to me, as it had been for almost five years now. His gaze barely lingered on me before shifting elsewhere, as if I were just another task to be managed.
Tonight, I would meet Fire Lord Zuko for the first time.
He had visited the Northern Tribe twice before, but I had been too young, too small to matter in such grand affairs. Back then, the world beyond our icy walls seemed vast and unreachable, a place meant for the powerful, for those like my brother, not for me. My family had always kept me at arm's length from anything dangerous, anything that could shatter my sheltered world.
But after that night—after Yue's death—everything changed. The icy walls around me no longer felt like protection, but like the bars of a cage.
No one had prepared me for the life I was about to step into, a life that didn't feel like my own. It was as if the world I had known had cracked open, and instead of freedom, I found myself staring into the abyss of something darker, something that felt more like a prison than a future.
Zuko
"Welcome, Fire Lord Zuko. The North is happy to have you here again."
Happy my ass.
None of them were happy. They tolerated me—barely. Their smiles were thin, stretched over old wounds they refused to let heal. They respected the title, not the man wearing it. The grudges they held against me were as thick as the ice that surrounded their city. The weight of it pressed on me from every glance, every handshake, every word of forced politeness.
This visit would be hard without Inara. She always knew how to smooth the edges, how to ease the tension in a room. But I couldn't push her to come, not after everything she'd been through. I'd never seen her struggle like this—whatever had happened between her and Aang had changed her, and she wasn't ready to face the world yet. I wasn't about to ask her to.
"I'm glad to be here as well," I replied, though the words felt hollow in my mouth.
Was I happy? I wasn't sure. I wanted to be. I wanted to believe that I could heal the scars left by my father, by his father, and by all the Fire Lords before me. But the scar on the North... that was my doing. My past, my mistakes. How do you heal a wound you helped create?
A marriage might, but that wasn't why I was here. Not today, at least.
My stay would last less than a week—just enough time to finish what I came here for. Tie up loose ends, endure a few polite dinners, and leave before the ice around me started to suffocate.
As I finished shaking Chief Aranok's hand, I noticed the figure standing just behind him—his nephew, his heir.
Anzan.
He was glaring at me with an intensity that could have melted the ice beneath us.
Some people believe in love at first sight. Not me. But hate at first sight? That's definitely a thing. Anzan and I were Exhibit A. The first time we met, just a few months after the war ended, I could feel his loathing like burning like fire. ironic, considering he was from the Water Tribe. I couldn't help but return the favor.
He was a prick.
There was no handshake, no hollow greetings exchanged. We simply stared at each other, eyes locked like the beginning of a duel, neither willing to give ground.
"Anzan," Chief Aranok's low voice broke the tension, a subtle warning threaded through his words.
I smiled, but it wasn't friendly. Anzan glanced at his uncle before turning his back to me and walking forward without another word.
I followed with my guards, trailing Chief Aranok, Anzan, and their guards through a long, icy corridor. The chill wasn't just from the air—it was in the atmosphere, thick with unspoken hostility. We continued in silence until we reached the office where the meetings were held.
"You want to discuss your ship routes through our territory?" Chief Aranok asked as he sat down. I had always appreciated his cut-the-crap approach. It saved us from the exhausting dance of fake pleasantries we all despised.
Lavena
I smoothed down my dress for what felt like the hundredth time, the soft fabric whispering against my skin. The deep navy color contrasted sharply with the pale walls of my chamber, but it felt constricting—an unwanted reminder of the expectations weighing on my shoulders. Boredom settled in like a heavy fog as I waited for dinner to arrive, the clock ticking far too slowly.
Why did they insist on dressing me up hours in advance? This was merely a formal gathering, yet here I was, trying to remain composed in a dress that restricted my movements and made it impossible to forget I was on display. The mirror across the room reflected my restlessness, a carefully arranged appearance that felt more like a costume than a true representation of myself.
I had at least two, maybe three hours before I would be summoned to the dining hall. The anticipation of it all made my skin crawl; it was as if I were a moth drawn to a flame, knowing the inevitable discomfort that awaited.
What if I snuck out? The idea flared in my mind like a spark, igniting a sense of rebellious thrill. No one would notice my absence—not with the Fire Lord's arrival occupying everyone's attention.
It seemed perfect. If I were caught, the punishment would likely be deferred until after our royal guest departed, and by then, they'd probably have forgotten I'd even slipped away.
