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The day finally came for Zuko to return to the Caldera.
It came even though he and Azula had spent the week pretending that it never would, willing it into falsehood. It came in defiance of the way they spent their afternoons in Zuko’s guest bedroom, snuggled in each other’s arms.
That day, their afternoon together would never come.
The soft light of mid-morning shone torturously through the curtains, taunting the siblings with the reminder of time’s ceaseless, painful march. They lay together as they had countless times before, only now a cloud of dread crept in where peace usually lived. Each was dressed for the day, reluctantly prepared for the inevitable, caring little for the wrinkles that might gather in their clothes from taking shelter in each other’s arms.
Azula had buried her face into Zuko’s chest, as though she was trying to block out the entirety of the world outside of the two of them. She clung to him, grasping fistfuls of his robes in both hands, with all the intensity of one who believed that her brother would cease to exist altogether the moment he climbed aboard the hot air balloon that would carry him home.
The last time Zuko’s heart had hurt so badly was the moment when Azula had screamed in absolute agony following their fateful Agni Kai.
He’d spent every moment following her return from the asylum desperately trying to repair what he’d broken. Now that his departure from Omashu was as little as minutes away, he felt he was about to break her all over again.
“This isn’t a permanent goodbye, my love. You know that, don’t you?” Zuko said softly as he combed his fingers through his sister’s hair. Since they’d arrived in Omashu, Azula had traded her more utilitarian topknot for a half-up style, and Zuko had spent every single day admiring how stunning she was with her hair flowing over her shoulders. A lifetime of seeing her this way wouldn’t have been enough. A week was far too short. “I will come visit you, and you can come visit me. It’ll be a few months at most until we see each other again. And I’ll write to you in between, I promise.” As he spoke, Zuko recognized his words of insufficient comfort were as much for his own benefit as they were for hers.
“I know, but-” Azula’s voice cracked under the weight of their shared grief. She did not lift her head from the safety of Zuko’s chest. “But ever since I returned to the palace, you and I have nearly been joined at the hip, and I don’t know what I’ll do once you’re gone! Where will I go when I feel sad? When I’m scared? When I have nightmares? What will I do when I feel empty? There will be no one to fill - to fill -”
Azula’s words were lost to sobs. Her shoulders shook as she cried. Zuko felt a wet patch begin to form at the front of his robes. “You’ll - you’ll make friends in Omashu, I know it,” Zuko answered lamely, his own throat tightening as he continued to stroke her hair. “Just give it some time and you’ll…you’ll be okay…”
“And what about you?” Azula choked out between sobs. “Who will be there to temper you when you get ridiculous or impulsive? Who will calm your anxiety? I can’t bear to think of you lost in the depths of your worries with no one there to help you slow your racing thoughts. Who - who else-”
A tear slipped down Zuko’s cheek. “I - I don’t know, Azula,” he managed to say. His sniffles and quivering breaths warned him of the sobs that would make him their next victim. “I need you by my side… I’m going to miss you so much…” The pain inside built on itself until he could no longer stop it from flowing out of him. He gave in and cried.
Azula lifted her head to meet Zuko’s blurry gaze. That simple action looked as though it had taken all her strength. She leaned her forehead against his and they cried together, their tears dripping from their chins and noses onto their clothes and the bedsheets beneath them. At some point - he did not know when - Zuko started kissing Azula. They were slow, sweet, aching kisses, one after another, in an unstoppable string of desperate yearning. It didn’t matter that their lips were wet and sometimes slipped a little when they met; he needed to memorize how she felt, to cling to the echoes of their kisses for as long as he could.
A knock sounded at the door.
Zuko had no idea how long they had stayed like that, wrapped in an intense embrace, kissing over and over again. Had it been hours, or only a few minutes? He felt dazed when a voice called to him from the hallway: “Fire Lord Zuko, your hot air balloon has arrived.”
“Just - just give me a minute,” he answered shakily.
They held each other for a few seconds longer. Then, they let go.
They dabbed the tears from their faces and brushed the wrinkles from their outfits. Zuko produced a small flame from his fingertips to dry the damp spots on their clothes. They moved in slow motion, as though the extra seconds spent in each other’s presence would soothe the aching wounds inside of them.
“I’ll walk you out,” Azula said numbly.
Zuko reluctantly walked across the room to open the door.
Azula politely greeted the man in Fire Nation red who stood on the other side. “We were just sharing a brotherly goodbye,” she explained with all of her usual poise and calm.
The man nodded and led Zuko outside. Azula followed just a few steps behind.
The balloon emblazoned with the Fire Nation logo waited forebodingly in the courtyard. The man opened the basket and beckoned Zuko aboard. He swallowed the lump in his throat, turned toward his sister, and pulled her into a firm hug. When she wrapped her arms around him, he felt her breaths trembling in her chest. He wanted to kiss her again. He knew he couldn’t.
The embrace lasted only a few seconds, for appearance’s sake. “Goodbye, brother,” Azula whispered as she slipped reluctantly from his arms.
“Goodbye, sister,” Zuko answered. “I’ll see you soon.”
He wasn’t entirely sure if that was true. He needed to say it anyway.
With his feet feeling like they had rocks tied to them, Zuko boarded the hot air balloon. As the man ignited a flame from his hands, giving lift to the aircraft, he turned to steal one last glance at the love of his life. Her features remained calm and still as she watched the balloon rise into the air.
But the sorrow reflected in her amber gaze broke his heart all over again.