The balance between fire and water was thin, a crystal shard that could easily shatter. It was easy to mend things between Zuko and you, he was easy to calm in your presence, you were easy to forgive him—but sometimes that wasn’t enough, sometimes that crystal shattered—and it took forever to heal.

Sometimes nothing was enough to stop Zuko. And sometimes you preferred it that way.

He’s gotten better, you and his uncle Iroh had been helping him—managing his anger issues and helping him make better judgements. He didn’t have to be the bad guy—he realized this and became much nicer. Much more lovable. But, again, not even your healing factors as a water bender can cure whatever is wrong with the banished prince, nothing in his soul can be permanently repaired. Not when he had a scar on his face, a forever reminder of his mistakes.

Zuko snapped, reasonably so. His sister had presented him an opportunity of ‘redemption’—the avatar just in his view, in his grasp. The word ‘honor’ was all it took to make Zuko forget about the life he forged for himself.

He hurt Iroh, he hurt Aang, he hurt Katara, and he hurt you. He hurt you.

Can he ever live with himself after such a thing?

Zuko lay awake in his room, taking space in the Earth Kings palace while Azula barked commands to those luring deep within the corrupted walls. He couldn’t sleep—not when you were laying awake somewhere else, without him.

He had to apologize.

Wait, what? Prince Zuko—the son of Fire Lord Ozai? He didn’t apologize. Ever. Ever.

Not to the avatar, not to Iroh, not to some water bender he calls his lover—hell , not even his father earned his apologies.

But he still found himself harshly climbing out of his bed and down to the prison chambers of the palace. To break you out, to see you again.

Zuko kicked your door open with little hesitation, startling you awake from the metal floor you were forced to rest. Fuck, they hadn’t even provided you a bed? He should kill somebody for that.

“ C’mon, get up. "

Zuko muttered, pulling you awake and putting one arm around your waist. He hoisted you up and held you to him, both to keep you stable, and because he missed the feeling of you against him.

“ Look—I’m sorry. "

The apology came out rushed. He didn’t have the time to apologize yet. Yet.

“ We have to go. "