Chapter Text
The Fire Nation had been rebuilt
Stone by stone, corridor by corridor, it tried to forget what it had been. What it had done. Katara noticed that the first time she stepped inside. The second time, she noticed how tired everyone looked pretending it meant something. Three years after the war, the world had learned how to smile again. It just hadn’t learned how to relax.
Aang was already there when she arrived. Of course he was.
He moved through the crowd like a current. Light, familiar, untouchable in the way he always had been. Air Nomad robes, now more formal than practical, brushed past Fire Nation officials who bowed too deeply. He returned every greeting with warmth that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Katara watched him from across the hall and felt something complicated and distant settle in her chest.
Not pain exactly. More like memory trying to become present and failing.
He turned, saw her, and lit up the way he used to.
“Katara!”
She smiled automatically, crossing the room to meet him. When he pulled her into a hug, it was familiar enough that her body responded before her mind could object.
“You made it,” he said into her shoulder.
“I said I would,” she replied.
“I know,” he said, softer, scratching the back of his head. “I just-yeah. I’m glad you’re here.”
She stepped back and studied him.
He looked older. Not in years, not really. In edges. In the way responsibility had settled into his posture like something he couldn’t run away from anymore.
“You’re still traveling?” she asked.
Aang scratched the back of his head, sheepish. “Yeah. There’s still… a lot to fix. Everywhere.”
“Of course there is,” she said, and immediately hated how it sounded.
Like she was tired of him. Aang didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did and chose not to. Around them, the rest of the Gaang filtered in.
Sokka arrived with exaggerated confidence and a slightly crooked grin that suggested sleeplessness. Toph was louder than the entire palace combined, immediately insulting the acoustics of the throne room. Suki followed behind Sokka, grounding him with a look that said she’d already forgiven him for something he hadn’t apologized for yet.
It felt like a reunion should feel. Almost. Except Katara kept noticing the gaps. The empty spaces where things used to be simpler. Zuko wasn’t there yet.
That, too, was not surprising.
~~~~~~~~
Dinner was too formal for people who had once survived a war together.
The Fire Lord’s table- Zuko’s table now, though Katara still thought of it as Ozai’s in a way she didn’t like, was long and polished and uncomfortable in a way no amount of ceremonial cushions could fix.
Zuko arrived halfway through the first course. The room shifted subtly when he entered. Not fear. Not anymore. Something quieter. Expectation. He wore Fire Lord robes that actually fit him now. That was the first thing Katara noticed. The second was that he didn’t look like he was wearing them for anyone else’s approval anymore.
He caught her eye briefly across the table. Held it a moment too long. Then looked away.
Katara pretended she didn’t notice the flicker in her chest.
The conversation at dinner stayed carefully neutral. Talk of rebuilding ports. Trade agreements. Refugee housing in Ba Sing Se. Sokka tried to make a joke about bureaucrats being the real villains of the war and got half a laugh from Toph and a diplomatic wince from a nearby advisor.
Aang spoke about air temples with too much brightness.
Zuko listened more than he spoke. Katara did both. And watched. She was good at watching now. Especially watching him.
~~~~~~~~
By the time the night celebrations began, the palace had shifted again.
Lanterns were lit in warm clusters along balconies and courtyards. Music drifted through open doors. Fire Nation strings, slow and deliberate, less like celebration and more like remembering how to feel something without breaking.
Sokka disappeared early with Suki and a promise to “check on the guard rotation,” which everyone knew meant something far more private and far less political.
Toph left after declaring the party was “too emotionally exhausting,” which was Toph’s version of she didn’t have anything to punch.
Aang stayed longer than Katara expected. But not with her.
He was surrounded by advisors, petitioners, and hopeful strangers who still saw him as something closer to a legend than a person.
Katara didn’t interrupt. Eventually, she found herself alone on a corridor balcony overlooking the palace gardens.
The air was warm at night. Fire Nation summers never fully cooled. The gardens below shimmered with controlled flame-lanterns that swayed gently in the breeze like they were breathing. She leaned against the stone railing and let her shoulders drop.
It had been a long day of being perceived.
“You always do that,” a voice said behind her.
Katara didn’t turn right away.
Because she already knew.
“Do what?” she asked.
“Stare out at nothing wistfully, ” Zuko said.
She glanced over her shoulder. He was standing in the doorway, half in light, half in shadow. His hands were holding large glasses of wine.
“I’m not doing that,” she said. “I’m thinking.”
“I don’t know if that’s worse,” he replied, stepping onto the balcony.
Katara softly laughed and turned around fully.
Up close, he looked even more tired than dinner suggested. Not exhausted like Sokka after a long day. Something deeper. Like sleep didn’t solve it anymore.
“Rough night?” she asked.
A small huff that might’ve been a laugh. “Every night is a rough night when people expect you to be someone you’re not entirely sure you are.”
“That sounds… familiar.”
Their eyes met. Then both of them looked away at the same time, like a reflex.
Zuko leaned on the railing beside her, careful to keep space between them. Respectful. Distant. Controlled.
Katara hated how much she noticed that.
“How long are you staying in the Fire Nation?” he asked.
“A few days,” she said. “Then I go back to the Southern Water Tribe.”
“Home,” he said.
She hesitated. “Yeah.”
Then, quieter: “What about you? Do you ever leave anymore?”
Zuko’s jaw tightened slightly, “I leave,” he said. “Just… not for long.”
Katara nodded like she understood more than she did.
“I heard about Mai,” Katara said finally.
Zuko didn’t flinch, but something in his expression shifted.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s done. For real this time.”
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically.
He shook his head once. “Don’t be. We tried. That’s… more than most people manage.”
Katara watched him for a moment.
“You loved her,” she said.
“I did. We just never knew how to exist in the same room without turning it into a battlefield.”
A humorless exhale slipped out of her before she could stop it, “Sounds like you two had a lot in common.”
Zuko snorted, “Yeah,” he said. “I suppose we did.”
The air shifted again. Not intentional. Katara folded her arms. “Aang and I broke up,”
Zuko’s eyes sharpened immediately, “I didn’t know that.”
“Not many people do,” she replied. “It wasn’t dramatic. It just… stopped working.”
Zuko nodded slowly.
“When?”
“Two years ago,” she said. “Around the time everything started settling. Ironically.”
Then Zuko said, carefully, “Do you regret it?”
Katara stared out at the garden lights, “I regret that it made sense,” she said. “That might be worse.”
Zuko didn’t respond right away.
When he did, his voice was quieter than before, “I understand that.”
Katara looked at him again, “Do you?”
He met her gaze. For once, he didn’t look away first.
“I understand things not fitting the way they’re supposed to,” he said. “I understand trying anyway.”
A beat.
Then, like it slipped out before he could stop it, “You know, I’ve always admired you.”
Katara blinked.
“I hope so. We’re friends right?” she said, cautious.
“Right. he replied.
Something in his expression tightened, like he was deciding whether to keep going and losing that argument.
“I mean like-” he added after taking a big swig of his wine.
Katara’s pulse shifted slightly.
“What?”
Zuko exhaled through his nose, like he was annoyed at himself.
“I used to think it was just respect,” he said. “For what you did. Who you are. But it wasn’t only that.”
Katara didn’t speak. Didn’t move.
“I always noticed you,” he said. “Even when I didn’t want to. Even when I shouldn’t have.”
A silence so complete it felt like the world paused to listen.
Katara’s voice came out softer than she intended.
“Zuko…”
He finally looked away, face beet red.
“Forget I said that.”
“That’s not really how that works,” she said.
A faint, strained laugh from him. “I know.”
They stood there for a moment longer, the palace breathing quietly around them.
Music drifted faintly from somewhere below. Laughter. Glass clinking. Life being lived.
Katara felt strangely detached from it all. Like she was standing on the edge of something she didn’t have a name for yet.
“You’re drunk,” she said suddenly.
Zuko blinked. “What?”
“You are,” she insisted, though she wasn’t entirely sure it was true.
“A little.”
That should’ve ended it. It didn’t.
Katara laughed once, quietly. “Fire Nation wine is dangerous.”
“It’s delicious though,” Zuko agreed.
That got another small laugh from her. It eased something. Or loosened it. Katara wasn’t sure which.
She turned back toward the garden. “You know what’s funny?”
Zuko leaned beside her again, watching her this time instead of the view.
“What?”
“I thought things would feel… clearer by now,” she said. “After everything. After the war ended. After we all grew up.”
Her fingers tightened on the stone railing.
“But it doesn’t,” she admitted. “It just feels quieter. Like there’s more space for everything I didn’t deal with.”
Zuko was silent for a long moment.
Then he said, very softly, “You’re not alone in that.”
Something in her chest shifted again. She looked at him. Really looked. And he was just a boy who looked as tired as she felt.
“That’s the problem,” Katara said before she could stop herself.
Zuko frowned slightly. “What is?”
She hesitated. Then honesty won.
“How easy it is to talk to you,” she said.
Zuko’s eyes flicked to her mouth for half a second before returning to her eyes. Katara noticed. Neither of them moved away. Neither of them moved closer. And somehow that was worse.
Katara swallowed, “I should go,” she said, though she didn’t move.
Zuko nodded once. But he didn’t step back. Neither of them did. The space between them felt smaller than it should’ve. Katara’s thoughts were suddenly very loud.
Too loud. She didn’t think. She just moved.
Katara’s hand trembled as she reached for Zuko’s collar, her fingers barely grazing the rough fabric of his robes. The pull was instinctive, the way her body arched up to meet his was something she couldn’t control.
His lips crashed against hers before she could second-guess herself, and Katara moaned into the kiss, her hands fisting in his robes like she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her afloat.
Zuko’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her waist, pulling her flush against him. The alcohol still hummed in her veins, making everything feel sharper, hotter, more real than it ever had before. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting like fire and sin, and Katara answered with a whimper, her body pressing against his without permission.
They broke apart only because oxygen became a necessity, gasping like they’d been underwater too long. Katara’s chest heaved, her lips swollen and wet from his mouth.
Zuko’s dark eyes burned into hers, his pupils blown wide with lust and something else. Something raw and vulnerable that made her stomach twist.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Katara panted, but the words sounded hollow even to her own ears.
“Right…” Zuko rasped, his gaze flickering to her lips before meeting her eyes again.
His voice was rough, like gravel under boots, and the sound of it sent a jolt straight to her core.
She should have stepped back. Should have put space between them and pretended this never happened.
Instead, she kissed him again, this time with no hesitation, no doubt.
Zuko groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding down to grip her ass, lifting her effortlessly against him. Katara wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt riding up as she ground against the hard ridge of his cock through his robes.
Zuko didn’t waste time. He carried her to the nearest flat surface, a rickety table in the dark corridor inside that wobbled under their weight and he set her down, his hands already working at the ties of her dress. Fabric tore as he yanked it open her sarashi following it. Katara gasped, not in protest, but in pure, desperate need. Her nipples were already hard, aching for his mouth, and Zuko didn’t disappoint.
He dipped his head, sucking one taut peak between his lips while his fingers pinched the other. Katara arched off the table with a cry, her fingers tangling in his hair to hold him there. “Fuck, Zuko-”
“Say it again,” he growled against her skin, his teeth grazing her nipple just enough to make her whimper.
“Zuko,” she breathed, her hips bucking up against the hard press of his cock. “Don’t stop.”
Zuko chuckled darkly, his hands sliding down to the waistband of her wrappings. He didn’t bother with subtlety. He tore it down her legs in one rough motion, leaving her bare in front of him. Katara bit her lip as his gaze raked over her, his eyes dark with hunger.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured before Katara spread her legs instinctively, inviting him in.
He didn’t make her wait.
Zuko dropped to his knees, his hands gripping her thighs as he buried his face between her legs. Katara cried out, her back arching off the table as his tongue lashed over her slit, teasing her clit before dipping lower to fuck her with shallow strokes.
She was already soaked, her arousal dripping down her thighs, and Zuko lapped it up like he was starving for it.
“Oh gods…Zuko, please-” she gasped, her fingers twisting in his hair as pleasure coiled tight in her belly.
He pulled back just enough to smirk up at her, his lips glistening with her wetness. “Please what?”
“Fuck me,” she demanded, her voice rough with need. “Please Zuko.”
Zuko didn’t need to be told twice. He stood, shucking off his robes in record time, his cock springing free; thick, heavy, and already leaking at the tip.
Katara’s mouth watered at the sight of him, her pussy clenching with need. He didn’t tease her further, he lined himself up and thrust into her in one smooth stroke.
Katara screamed, her nails digging crescents into his shoulders as he bottomed out inside her. He was big, stretching her in ways she hadn’t been prepared for, but the burn only made the pleasure sharper.
Zuko groaned, his hips snapping forward, driving into her with punishing force. The table creaked beneath them, threatening to collapse, but neither of them cared.
“Fuck, you feel amazing, Katara, ” Zuko growled, his mouth crashing back onto hers as he fucked her harder, his cock pistoning in and out of her soaked cunt.
Katara matched his rhythm, her hips meeting every brutal thrust, her moans muffled against his lips. His fingers found her clit, rubbing tight circles as he pounded into her, and Katara shattered.
Her orgasm ripped through her like a wildfire, her walls clamping down around his cock as she came with a broken cry. Zuko groaned, his thrusts turning erratic as he chased his own release.
“Come inside me,” Katara gasped, her nails raking down his back. “You can-”
Zuko didn’t need the encouragement. With a guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came, his cock pulsing as he spilled deep inside her. Katara whimpered at the feeling of him emptying himself inside her, her pussy fluttering around him as she milked every last drop.
When he finally pulled out, his cock glistened with their combined juices as they both breathed heavily.
Zuko looks up at Katara, eyes still shot with desire and maybe a little bit of wine.
Her eyes match, filled with alcohol and lust.
Zuko growls as he picks her up, carrying her to his bedchamber,
~~~~~~~~
The morning arrived like a punishment. Katara woke first. For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t open her eyes. Didn’t breathe too deeply. Because she already knew.
When she finally did sit up, the room confirmed it.
The Fire Lord’s chambers. Sunlight cutting through silk curtains. Clothes scattered where they definitely shouldn’t be. The absence of space that had existed between them the night before now feels like something stolen rather than shared.
Zuko was still asleep. For a second, she allowed herself to just look at him.
Then reality caught up. Her stomach tightened. She pressed her fingers to her forehead.
“Oh my gods,” she whispered to herself.
Zuko stirred. Katara immediately looked away.
When he woke, the silence between them was different. He sat up slowly, taking in the room, the light, her.
Then everything clicked into place at once Katara stood quickly, gathering her clothes, turning her back to him as she spoke.
“We were drunk,” she said. “That’s all this was.”
Zuko didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was controlled, “Yeah.”
Katara nodded too quickly. “It can’t happen again.”
“No,” he agreed.
Another pause. Longer this time. Katara pulled her hair back into place like it could fix anything.
“No one can know,” she added.
Zuko stood, finding his own robes with careful, deliberate movements.
“No one will,” he said.
She nodded again. Too many times.
They weren’t looking at each other anymore.
“I leave in two days, ” Katara said.
“Right,” Zuko replied.
Then, almost at the same time, “This was a mistake.”
They both stopped. Silence. Katara swallowed.
“Just… a stupid mistake we made because we were drunk. And maybe a little lonely.” Katara says.
Zuko nodded once, “Exactly.”
Neither of them believed it. Not even a little. Katara reached the door first. Paused with her hand on it. For half a second, she thought she might say something else. Something honest. Something that mattered.
Instead, she left.
Zuko didn’t run after her. Which was, somehow, worse than if he had.