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“You’re still working, Zuko?” said Katara, stepping into her husband’s office as the clock’s short hand neared the twelve.
Zuko looked up from his parchment through the oil lamp’s soft glow, meeting Katara’s eyes as she held a little tray with a teapot, two teacups, and a small plate of biscuits. He smiled tenderly, setting down his quill pen as she came closer. Katara’s hair was out of its usual ‘do, just loose and flowing over her shoulders as she wore her pale-blue bathrobe over her satin, red nightgown.
“You look beautiful,” Zuko replied sweetly, yet groggily, awestruck by his stunning wife standing in the faint light before him. Katara playfully rolled her eyes, setting down the tray above the parchment he was working on.
“That was not my question, fire lord,” quipped Katara, pulling a velvet cushion stool over to sit across from her husband. Katara then picked up the teapot Iroh had gifted them on their wedding day and poured each of them some tea into the cups from the teapot's matching set.
Zuko glanced over at the large grandfather clock beside him and sighed. “Ugh, I thought it was around eight at the latest,” he finally answered, “I’m sorry.”
Katara took a sip from her teacup and shook her head. “I know there’s a budget coming up,” she responded from behind her cup, setting it down to pull over the parchment to have a look at it herself. “I just want you to take care of yourself.”
“Just like the Southern Water Tribe ambassador,” teased Zuko, grinning as he picked up his own cup of tea. Katara was lovely at blending his uncle’s teas, much to Iroh's delight.
Katara smirked, shaking her head again. She was known for the same antics when deadlines approached in her own affairs. She’d look over her documents repeatedly until her light source was nothing but a blob of hardened wax on the table.
“Thank you, my love,” whispered Zuko, reaching over then to have one of the cookies she’d brought down. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been until taking a bite into the traditional, Water Tribe cookie he’d come to adore.
Katara was skimming the documents and she patted the top of Zuko’s hand in response before holding it gently as her other hand’s index finger ran across each word. “So the former colonies need reparations and the North needs its debt repaid for continued reconstruction from Zhao's damages? …And the people can hardly pay their taxes as it is?”
Zuko groaned, nodding as he leaned into his free hand. He then removed his glasses that he’d come to need in the past few years and pressed his fingers to his eyes in exhaustion as Katara squeezed his other hand tighter.
Katara pursed her lips as she pondered a solution. It was a pretty shitty predicament. “Do you think the North could wait?” suggested Katara, “I could talk to them for you. I think the colonies need the money more than the North right now. You’ve been sending money to the North for almost two decades and the colonies just started getting reparations this year. They really need help rebuilding since seceding.”
Zuko sighed, looking at Katara imploringly, “If you think you can talk Arnook into it, I completely agree. I mean, of course, I know the Fire Nation has to pay for all the damage done during Zhao’s invasion. The fact it’s still not all rebuilt… it’s terrible. But… the Fire Nation people just can’t… things are too tough right now, and the former colonies are struggling even worse.”
Katara smiled gently, putting both her hands over Zuko’s affectionately. “I’ll talk to him, I promise. I can speak with my dad too, he can help. Arnook listens to my dad,” Katara encouraged. “Don’t worry, Zuko. It’ll be okay. You’re doing all you can, but the money can only be stretched so thin and you’re trying. We can have a binding document written up with an agreement overseen by the international council that the money will be repaid in due time to the North — you just need a break to get the Fire Nation and former colonies back on their feet… and yourself, look at you.”
Zuko pouted in jest, “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said with a small chuckle.
“That the most handsome man in the four nations has run himself ragged and looks tired as a turtle duck,” Katara retorted with a smile, leaning forward to caress her husband’s face. Her thumb ran over his scar, tracing gently under his eye before she threaded her fingers in his hair. “You’re thirty-three, Zuko.”
“Happy birthday to me,” he teased, his hand wrapped lovingly around her wrist as he smiled, his gaze meeting hers with enough love in it to light the town.
Katara was still smiling as she swallowed thickly. “You’ve got gray in your hair,” she murmured, tears prickling in her eyes. “Your father is in his fifties and has less gray.”
“Thanks,” mumbled Zuko, though he still wore a smirk as he rolled his eyes. “Too bad you’re perfect, so I can’t even counter with anything,” he teased her in response, though he meant it. She was breathtaking from head to toe.
“You’re beautiful, Zuko,” Katara said, swallowing the lump in her throat as Zuko looked at her, then slightly worried. He squeezed her wrist in comfort. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
“ Katara ,” whispered Zuko, touched by her words, running his hand up and down over her wrist as she continued to stroke soothing circles on his face with her thumb.
“You’re too young to be graying like this, my love, but I know that you only are because you care. You care so much… that’s why you’re here, why your father’s hair is blacker than your own… it’s so much on your shoulders and you’re always doing everything you can for the best outcome for everyone. I love you for it, but I do worry for you, Zuko,” Katara told him, moving her arm so both her hands cradled his face.
Zuko’s eyes melted and his hands held Katara’s wrists, trying to offer comfort and affection in return. “Katara… it’s just… it’s just hair, I’m alright,” he said, his own eyes glossy. “And… I’m more than alright, I’ve got you. You’ve helped me so much even just tonight. This will be a huge relief to have you and your father help me out.”
“I know,” Katara replied, brushing some stray hairs back behind Zuko’s ears before leaning back in her chair and wiping at her eyes. She laughed then, shaking her head as she took a deep breath to steady herself. She felt silly — her husband was alive and well before her. “I just… I love you, Zuko.”
He melted. Those three words still puddled him in an instant, even after all these years. They always would. “I love you too, Katara,” he said with a warm smile, “So, so much… and you know, my hair might be gray now, but my life’s far from it. I’ve got you… our babies, Uncle, our friends… I’m stressed out, but I’m very happy, Katara. Plus, there's always dye," he joked.
Katara smiled back at him then, relief settling in. She knew these things. She knew them well — she just worried. Not so unlike her husband then, she supposed. That was one reason why they’d always gotten along so well. They got each other — intuitively. “Speaking of our babies, Kya said I don’t read bedtime stories nearly as good as you.”
Zuko laughed, “Is that so?”
Katara took a bite of a cookie then, nodding, “She told me I don’t do the voices right and I’m not as fun.”
“Well, I think you’re a lot of fun, ambassador,” quipped Zuko with a small shrug.
“Is that also so?” teased Katara, looking at Zuko playfully. “Well, fire lord, If that’s the case, why don’t we set this down for the evening and go up to bed then, hm?”
Zuko laughed, removing his crown piece and topknot as he stood from his desk. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”