Chapter Text
He stood in the throne room, the weight of a hundred generations pressing down on him, and he didn’t flinch.
“She wears blue.”
The words came out harder than he meant them to, sharp as a blade drawn across stone. The council shifted in their seats, silk robes rustling like dry leaves. He could feel their stares crawling over the scar on his face, waiting for him to bend, to remember who he was supposed to be.
He didn’t.
“Not red. Not gold. Blue.” His voice cracked like a whip. “Southern Water Tribe blue. The color of her home.”
A lord opened his mouth, some protest about tradition, about the Fire Lord’s intended bride wearing the nation’s flame. He cut him off before he could breathe.
"Katara stood against me when I was still the enemy. She dragged me out of the dark with her own hands. If anyone’s earned the right to walk into this palace wearing exactly who she is, it’s her.”
He stood and stepped forward, boots ringing on the polished floor. He looked at each of them, really looked, letting the silence burn.
“I'm not backing down; These are my terms. Every time someone sees my wife in those colors, they’ll remember that a Water Tribe girl decided that I was worth saving, and then refused to let me forget it.”
His hands were shaking, clenched them behind his back so no one would see.
“So yes. She wears blue. And if any of you have a problem with that, you can take it up with me. After you explain to her why her culture should disappear just because she loves me.”
No one spoke.
He turned and left before they could find their voices.
Later that night, when he told Katara, she just looked at him for a long time, eyes shining like moonlit water. Then she laughed-quiet, fierce, the way she does when she’s proud and trying not to show it.
“Zuko, You didn’t have to scare them that badly.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did.”
Because to Zuko, there are some things he doesn’t compromise on.
Not anymore.
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Preparations fell to an unlikely trio, each bringing their own flavor to the much awaited event.
Uncle Iroh, now the Grand Master of the White Lotus and proud owner of The Jasmine Dragon tea shop in Ba Sing Se, (and future locations, no doubt), had taken up temporary residence in the palace guest quarters. He brought with him from his famed shipments; jasmine tea infused with rare Southern plants—delicate blue lotus petals which bloom only during short summer months in the ice-free areas of the Southern Water Tribe peninsula.
He personally oversaw the fusion menu: sweet and salty kale cookies to start, spicy Fire Nation noodles tossed with seaweed served alongside deep-fried penguin-seal dumplings, and finishing it off with fire cherry ice cream. Iroh’s eyes twinkled as he sampled each dish, declaring, “Tea brings people together, but food? Food seals the bond.” He spent evenings in the kitchens, humming old Earth Kingdom tunes while teaching the cooks the subtle art of balancing the flavors.
Shoji, the court eunuch, handled the intricate logistics of the complex blend of two nations. A flamboyant guardian of palace secrets, he ensured Fire Nation artisans created betrothal gifts that honored both sides—necklaces of volcanic glass strung with polar pearls. While Chief Hakoda and his shamans presented bracelets etched with intertwined flames and waves.
Shoji also handled the creation of the couple’s engagement robes: for Zuko, deep crimson and black silks that embodied the fierce heart of the Fire Nation; for Katara, an off shoulder flowing gown in the glacial blues and whites of the Southern Water Tribe, her hair to be adorned with a crescent moon pin that symbolized the tides she commands. Shoji also brought Southern elders to the palace for consultations, trimming the endless Fire Nation ceremonies down to what mattered—hospitality over intimidation. He made sure the palace didn’t drown their diverse guests in red banners and dragon drums. “This is a bridge, not a battlefield,” he’d say, waving his fan dramatically as he directed servants to hang banners in alternate hues of red and blue.
And Yan, Katara’s young Fire Nation lady-in-waiting, was the same servant girl who had been chosen by Iroh to help Katara feel at home in the palace. She had quietly admired Katara for years during her first visits, wide-eyed at the waterbender’s strength and kindness.
Now, much grown and has become Katara’s close ally, Yan took care of every small detail with joy. She organized rehearsals, patiently teaching Fire Nation courtiers how to also move to Water Tribe dances with soft, waterbending-like gestures—swaying like ocean currents mixed with occasional stamping of feet. One evening, while adjusting the hem of Katara’s blue-and-white gown in the quiet of her chambers, Yan smiled and said, “My lady, this isn’t just a dress. When the people see your colors, they’ll also see that strength comes from the sea just as much as from the sun.” Katara blushed, touched by the sincerity, and pulled Yan into a hug.
Despite Katara’s insistence on a simpler engagement followed by a wedding ceremony, arguing that most of the funds should go to the displaced refugees from the war—Zuko spared no expense, with Shoji strongly agreeing. “The Fire Nation has spent fortunes on destruction,” Shoji declared in one of their planning sessions. “Now, we spend on healing. This union is a symbol and it must shine brightly.”
King Kuei of the Earth Kingdom even offered a generous donation to ease the burden, sending a small chest of gold coins.
King Bumi of Omashu gifted a crate of blue and red silk as gestures of goodwill.
Zuko has already allocated portions of the budget to the reconstruction efforts in the South as well as funds to help with the refugees, but he wouldn’t skimp on the celebration. “It’s not just for us,” he told Katara one night as they walked the courtyard under the stars. “It’s for everyone who fought for this peace.”
Zuko also broke a centuries-old Fire Nation tradition: Where royal weddings were grand spectacles in the Caldera City crater under Agni’s blazing sun, he yielded to the woman’s tradition.
“The wedding will be in the South,” he announced to his council to their shock.
Whispers of scandal rippled through the court- Fire Lords wed in fire, not frost! But Zuko didn’t care. He wanted a wedding where firebenders would dance under the southern lights and Water Tribe families would gather around warm furnaces brought from the Fire Nation.
As the engagement day approached, the palace became a hub for old friends. Sokka and Suki arrived early, flying in on Sokka’s new airship with a contingent of Kyoshi Warriors as honor guards. Upon arrival, he clapped Zuko on the back with enough force to make the Fire Lord wince. He took charge of security details and organized mock drills in the palace courtyards. “If anyone crashes this party, they’ll regret it,” he grinned, sketching out perimeter maps on scrolls borrowed from Shoji.
Suki focused on the cultural exchanges. She was responsible for the entertainment part of the ceremony. After the Fire Nation-Water Tribe dance of the courtiers, a Kyoshi Warrior dance was followed by Pu On Tim’s very much improved version of Love Amongst the Dragons by the Ember Island Theater Troupe.
The engagement ceremony was held in the palace’s grand hall, adorned with ice sculptures from Southern waterbenders and fire lilies from the Fire Nation gardens. Zuko, in his crimson robes stood tall, his long, jet-black hair that is pulled back halfway into a high, neat topknot-traditional Fire Nation royal style. The topknot is secured with a golden flame-shaped hair piece that also served as his crown, and the rest of his hair falls straight and smooth past his shoulders.
Katara entered in her off-shoulder blue gown, the golden crescent pin of the Southern Water Tribe gleaming on top of her rich brown hair worn in loose waves. Part of her hair is pulled back, and braided into a single thick braid that loops around the back of her head and is adorned with small blue and white Water Tribe beads.
The council, subdued after Zuko’s earlier stand, watched in respectful silence. Iroh officiated, his voice warm and steady as he spoke of balance: “Fire and water are opposites, yet together they create steam that rises to the heavens.”
Zuko knelt before her, and from a velvet cushion, he lifted the betrothal necklace he had carved himself over many sleepless nights: a blue ribbon of Water Tribe tradition, threaded through a pendant of polished deep blue obsidian with gold flecks—volcanic stone from the Fire Nation’s caldera, inlaid with a swirling wave-and-flame motif. The carving was imperfect in places, bearing the honest marks of his own hands which made it all the more precious. Katara accepted it, letting Zuko fasten the cord around her neck. The pendant rested just above the hollow pulse.
Then it was her turn. From a small silk pouch at her waist, she drew a ring forged in secret by the master smiths of the Southern Water Tribe. A thick band of battered dark metal, inlaid with Fire Nation ruby and of polished blue diamond. The ruby and the ice-stone met in perfect balance, neither overpowering the other. She took Zuko’s left hand—scarred, steady, beautiful—and slipped the ring onto his finger. His golden eyes widened, then softened with something too deep for words.
Iroh smiled, eyes shining. “By the customs of both your peoples, and by the blessing of the spirits old and new, you are promised to one another. May your union bring light where there was once only shadow.” Zuko smiled for the first time that day. Katara answered it with her own radiant grin. Around them, the hall erupted in applause.
Aang and Toph arrived conspicuously late. Messages via hawk had been vague—Aang mentioning “Air Nomad business” and Toph grumbling about “rocky detours.” They finally entered the palace hours after the event, as their lateness came with a surprise of their own—a revelation that stunned the group. They had intentionally timed their arrival this way, they clarified, to avoid overshadowing the newly engaged couple.
As the night waned, Zuko pulled Katara onto a balcony overlooking the sea. “This is just the beginning,” he murmured, his scar softened in the moonlight. She leans into him, her blue against his red, and whispered, “And we’ll face it together—fire, water, and everything in between.”