Chapter Text
01
Things had spiraled into catastrophe at breakneck speed after Zuko placed the engagement ring on Mai’s finger. The look of distaste on his girlfriend’s face should have been the first sign that the engagement was doomed from the start. Of course, Zuko had willfully ignored every one of those little signals.
“The ring doesn’t fit, Zuko.”
Mai held up her delicate hand; the gold ring, set with rubies, gleamed in the firelight. It belonged to the most important person in Zuko’s life, his beloved mother, Ursa. It was a family heirloom passed down through generations to the Fire Lord’s wife, and although it possessed the kind of tragic flair Mai would have once adored, it wasn't small enough for her slender, reed-thin finger. She spun the ring around her finger as if it were a hula hoop.
“You need to get it resized.”
Mai finally let the ring slide onto the table, right next to her plate of fruit tart. That had been the first mishap of the evening; Mai had nearly swallowed the ring while taking a spoonful of strawberries and cream. That was entirely Sokka’s fault. He had insisted women loved that sort of trick, even though Suki hadn't answered his letters in the six months since he’d tried that very same strategy for his own proposal.
“I’m not getting it resized.” The words tasted bitter as ash in Zuko’s mouth. He clenched the ring in his fist, trying to overlook Mai’s lack of tact. “I’m not taking the risk that they might break it; it was my mother’s.”
Silence fell over the table; Mai crossed her arms and leaned back heavily in her chair. The red silk dress worked wonders against her pale skin and black hair; Zuko would have admired her if it weren't for the fact that this night, which he had planned so far in advance, had turned out to be more bitter than he could have imagined.
“Oh, sure. Just say you don’t want me wearing your mother’s ring.”
“If I didn’t want you to wear it, I wouldn’t have proposed with it in the first place.” Zuko rubbed his temple, taking a deep breath. They weren’t foolish teenagers fighting on the beach anymore. So why was Mai making everything so difficult? “You never even said whether you accepted or not.”
Mai raised a slender eyebrow.
“You would have had my answer if this had gone well, Zuko.” Mai removed the napkin from her lap in disgust and stood up. “But everything went terribly wrong; your performance was a disaster.”
A short laugh escaped Zuko’s lips; he looked up, his irritation barely contained. He hates hearing himself speak out of frustration. He was the Fire Lord—he ran a nation and had helped the Avatar save the world—yet the spirits knew he could never manage to please his girl in anything.
“My performance was bad? Wonderful, Mai. You sound just like everyone at the Four Nations' Grand Council table. They’d love to have your contributions...”
“How convenient that you mention the Council. Tell me, are they pressuring you to find a wife? Because I can’t imagine you considering it on your own.”
Zuko slammed his hand on the table, his appetite gone, and stood up. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that, despite everything, Mai had every right to hate the evening and to be dissatisfied with his proposal. Zuko should have been more delicate; he should have planned things better, paid attention to the details, and consulted someone more sensible than Aang and Sokka when organizing it all. “Mai, I’m sorry, but you have to believe me. No one has convinced me of this, I want to get married because I love you.”
Zuko reaches out his hand, but Mai bats it away.
“This isn’t going to work, Zuko. The ring isn’t the only damn problem. I’m going to stay with my parents for a few weeks, and I hope you can change my mind.”
Mai walks away without looking back—just as she had so many times before when they’d argued. Zuko wishes he could say those youthful squabbles had ceased once the fire within them had settled into the routine and responsibilities of keeping the world in harmony. His Uncle Iroh would have laughed and, placing a hand on his shoulder, told him that maintaining world peace was easier than maintaining peace in his relationship.
With the memory of his uncle in mind—and longing more than ever to hear his advice—Zuko extinguished the candles with a cold breath, leaving himself in darkness, his mother’s ring clutched in his fist.
Laughter echoed through the great hall.
“Why are you laughing? I followed all your advice!”
Zuko spoke in exasperation upon hearing Aang and Sokka laughing in unison; heat rose to his cheeks as he regretted the moment he’d decided to tell them—or worse, the moment he’d followed their advice. Being scarred for life by his father paled in comparison to the embarrassment these two knuckleheads put him through daily.
“Oh, please. Couldn't you have just had the ring resized?”
Toph asked, stating the obvious; she had been the first to kick off the mockery and laughter at his expense.
“Of course not! It’s my mother’s ring.”
Zuko gritted out the words while Sokka hiccuped with laughter, his arm draped around Aang’s shoulder; Aang was hyperventilating, tears of mirth streaming down his face.
“That’s not even the worst part, Zuko. She almost choked, the ring is supposed to be on the surface, not inside the bread!”
Aang wiped the tears running down his cheeks. The only one not laughing was, of course, Katara, who had just taken a seat beside Aang. Aang’s laughter subsided, his eyes searching for an answer that had been hidden in Katara’s blue eyes for weeks. After years together, they had agreed to take some time apart; Katara wanted to focus on her waterbending skills, and Aang planned to spend a few months beginning the restoration of the Air Temple.
“You’re all fools; I can’t believe you gave him such bad advice.”
Katara said reproachfully. Time had not only made her wiser, but had also built around her an armor that not even her brother could dare to challenge; even Aang, at some point, stopped trying to scratch that surface. However, Zuko had always admired that fortitude.
“Oh, you talk like you're an expert Katara.” Toph chimed in as she rested her head behind her crossed arms, reclining on the divan with her feet tickling the reddish velvet. “Enlighten us with your knowledge”
"Toph! Don't be rude to Katara, she knows what she's talking about..."
Aang defends with stiff shoulders, but a push from Sokka is enough for the three to end up laughing among themselves, the matter of Zuko's engagement being forgotten as they talk about the immeasurable adventures they have lived through these years.
Amidst the hubbub and laughter shared between those three, Zuko takes a sip of his hot tea. Watching Katara's figure get up to go out to the balcony. It would only take a few minutes for Zuko to stand up as well, being greeted by the hot blizzard of those summer nights.
“What should I do?”
Zuko's voice changes, the irises of his golden eyes brimming with a curiosity that runs through Katara. At least one person showed interest in what she had to say.
“You should think about what she would like.”
Zuko wanted to reply instantly. Mai doesn't like it at all. But he stopped and his eyes ran over Katara's dark brown hair braided like years ago, the salty scent of the sea with peonies mixed in his head like a whirlwind of memories where Katara's opinion of him became more important than his father's harsh judgment.
“She likes stilettos and knives.” Zuko reflects after a moment of silence. Katara is about to roll her eyes until he speaks again. “It's always been difficult to read, even for me.”
Zuko closes his eyes, the long hair he had grown over the years falling over the shoulder pads of his outfit.
Katara is silent for a few minutes, until she finally places her hand on Zuko's arm.
“It's not too late to try to understand, Zuko.” Katara tries to encourage him, gently moving his hand away to place it on the railing. "She gave you an ultimatum. Fight for her. Don't give up until you've given everything you have to save the relationship if you really love her."
Zuko slips his hand into his pocket, gazing at the ring resting in his palm. He remembered how perfectly that ring had fit his mother’s finger, and the feel of the metal against his head whenever she stroked his hair.
Katara gives his shoulder a light pat.
“She’ll be back in a few weeks. And by then, you’ll know what to do.”
Zuko lets out a dry laugh, his listless expression shifting to focus on Katara.
“And tell me, how will I know what to do?”
“Because I’ll help you.” Katara smiles at him. “When Mai gets back, we’ll start the plan to mend that broken heart.”