Chapter Text
From what’s reported, she makes a beautiful bride.
The hawks sent for info return promptly with note in beak to inform the Firelord himself of this. The wedding is held within two weeks after her leave and Zuko is adamant that her matrimony is withheld from the growing Izumi who still walks the hall with a curve to her back, head hung softly. While he does not imitate such actions, he feels the pain all the same. Perhaps if she had known, Izumi might shock him with a prodigious handle of emotions and see the beauty in her finding a man to wed her ( how many times had he heard Kyla preach the beauties of independence and lack of necessity in betrothal to the fascinated Izumi? ) - but the risk hugs too close to theory for him to take it.
He tells his uncle about subconsciously ill-advised plans that Iroh only concurs with as a wrong move but makes to move for the army barracks late into the day of the one afternoon, leaving strict instructions to the staff to inform Izumi that he would be gone only the day for private business with the city council of a city not so far off as to arouse her suspicion and possible pursuit. They are apprehensive, even in instruction, but comply in the thought of how she would react to where he was truly headed.
He takes off alone. A practice the guards are by no means privy to. The distance is not as close as the lie of the city that Izumi will receive but it is not so far that his promise of a day’s absence will not be kept. This is why he has left so early within the day, before the men’s days can begin.
Perhaps it is pathetic, but the name has been reread so many times he is no longer needing to look to the small thin of paper.
Jianjung Mèng.
A freshly dubbed Senior Lieutenant with not much of a record - negatively. He kept to his handful of companions, respected his superiors, and apparently had not taken any time after his wedding, only going right back to his duties the next day despite the offer for time away with his newlywed wife. The time is a whopping three days but Agni, it was some time away that he declines. Perhaps it is not his place to judge, but Zuko is displeased by this.
He reaches the barracks within a few hours and is faced with bowed heads that permit him inside. He beckons for his time and is offered the office of one of the generals - he insists upon the mess hall. The men seem initially startled, one of them mumbling, “What the hell could Mèng have done?”
There is something informal and spacious about the area that the Fire Lord hopes will ease the man. He wants to speak with him, but to scare him into silence is hardly his intent.
He must see this man. Must come to face with the winner of a competition he had been so unaware of. Out of the anxiety in waiting, he binds his hair into a bun behind himself and waits. His eyes linger to the door that remains closed, shadows carrying through under the door before there is chatter and a man steps forward.
There is a clear rush prior to dress for the occasion as he fixates buttoning up the final areas of his uniform before looking up, keeping distance of Zuko, respectfully. He bows his head to him with the formal preamble required of militaristic men before Zuko beckons him to sit. Prior, he is aware that they share the same height, though the man certain does exude that of discipline. Far more than the Firelord, who has no overflow of pride to process...internally.
“I apologize for my, eh - rushed appearance, your majesty.” He speaks, though this is the first time Zuko has heard him through his visual investigation. He gives a nod and sets a hand up, “It's fine.”
The man is still, though it's deathly and shows the nervousness. The Firelord re-adjusts himself, clearing his throat, “I’ll settle your nerves. You are in no form of trouble here. None at all.”
He breathes, “Apologies for my candor but...that is quite a relief.”
“I'm sure - but I wanted to speak about something a bit more personal, if that's alright with you?”
Mèng complies though nod, “Of course.”
You were recently…” he pauses and Mèng looks at him, startled. He forces the word out, “...recently married. Yes?”
The beam of a smile that the man is desperate to hide comes as an unexpected failure. His formal nature upon entrance shatters in so quickly and a single gloved hand gives way to his steadied posture and his entire body becomes relaxed - seemingly without his own knowledge. The amusement brings his age down visually and he must straighten himself to compose himself, “Yes, your majesty. I did.”
“What's so funny?”
“Nothing you said, sire. I was...eh, I was enlightened by the thought. I've known my wife since we were young.”
His stomach pits and Zuko is unmoved, now the deathly still individual.
“Oh?” He manages out.
“Yes, sir. Her brother and I were good friends. I met her through him, training. I helped her perfect her lightning control when we were a bit older.”
“Did she...show interest?”
“Vaguely. Kyla is quite stubborn and wanted to do a bit more for the villages of the Fire Nation rather than work or live directly in the city. I have always lived a bit more within the farmlands but she was dissatisfied with that at the time. Our betrothal has been pitched many times but neither of us were ready. She wanted to travel and I wanted to join the ranks.”
The Firelord ponders, careful with his questioning now, “What changed, now?”
The man furrows his brow and Zuko knows that his questions are starting to startle the man, “From what she has told me, she had exhausted her need to travel.”
They had no idea.
“I wanted to ask why you didn't take your time off them. It seemed quite strange upon hearing about it.”
“I -uh…” his default of respect conflicts with his obvious offense to the line of questioning. Mèng is the one to now tread carefully with his words, “We both agreed that a break in schedules was unnecessary.”
Zuko looks at the man and realizes the truth.
He had meant something to Kyla for a time, but this man had meant something to her for a life. He knew intimate things about Kyla that Zuko would die wondering.
He dares to rationalize that this man has never seen her at her most vulnerable, lain back to sheets with muted sounds of a woman, pleasured but is immediately grounded by the fact that this man would never share everything between him and Kyla - and Zuko had no right to ask for the sake of himself.
“Lieutenant - “
“Mèng, please.”
“...I would prefer that you take your time away. I would dare command it of you.”
The man is clearly taken aback.
Zuko proceeds:
“ I can understand the bond of childhood friends. I know it completely. There is nothing like it. There is no bond beyond it that could ever be quite as secure. You think there will be no one else. You think there will be no one else to extend the feeling of days and make you feel whole again. She will never replace what once was with that individual…”
And then she changes you completely.
“I would insist that you take your time today.”
“I-I'm not going to lie to you, your highness. I'm completely confused.”
“Be with your wife. She needs you.”
“But I -”
“I suppose I'll have to order you, won't I?”
There is a flicker of an oncoming chuckle before he withholds. Mèng gives a nod and looks behind him to the door, looking back to Zuko, “I will.”
Zuko stands, Mèng following suit, “My only condition?”
“Sire?”
“Never tell your wife that we met.”
Upon reflection going home, it occurs to the Firelord that perhaps he has confused the boy worse than he knows. And while he has found peace that Kyla is not miserable and that he could have done nothing to prevent their separation, the burden remains and the consensus between mind and the subconscious is that he is right where he had been before he had left, unmoved from his place of uncertainty and frustration - alone, once more.
He is gifted with distraction at the presence of Katara, Sokka, and Toph over for dinner, Aang dwelling in a month long meditation in the tattered remains of his childhood temple.
Izumi is temporarily distracted at the sight of them and that beam of a smile lightens him. In truth, he is quiet for most of dinner and observes the banter with mild amusement - though it was not their fault. His chest swells with emotion and he wishes the innocence of Izumi for one night.
“My Lord?” A voice whispers, managing its way through the laughter and conversation. He slips away briefly and slips into the hallway, looking to one of the maids who holds something in her hands, draped across. He cocks an eyebrow as she seems hesitant, “I was not entirely sure what your wishes were regarding this?”
In his hand, he ignites a flame and sees the garment for what it is.
The hakama made for Kyla.
Back in the dining room, Toph is questioning of her feelings. But she is not blind to the dangerous palpitations that she suddenly reads amidst dinner coming from the hallway, turning her head softly in confusion of who could be that perturbed.
Zuko stares down to the piece, his built persona of steady wellness shattered. He glares at the piece, unable to contain himself emotionally. The maid sees his trembling hands, “Sire...?"
This time his voice is cold, and chills the woman with the pain and rage invoked.
“Burn it."