Chapter Text
i.
When Zuko is thirteen, he is betrothed to a nobleman’s daughter. He knew beforehand that something was going to happen around him or maybe to him, and afterwards he hears whispers about alliances and punishments. Zuko has never been good at piecing together the network of gossip and rumor that strings the palace together, always one step behind.
Zuko tries not to resent her already, because he knows arranged marriages can be happy. He knows how to do his duty. But the more he learns about her, the harder it is not to be shamed. She’s from the Earth Kingdom. She’s not royalty or even colonial, just the daughter of rich war profiteers from the dead center of the continent. She’s an earthbender and a weak one at that, apparently. It’s only later that he finds out she’s blind, and then he finally understands exactly how humiliated he’s supposed to be.
Gradually he comes to see that it’s a punishment for everyone involved. He pieces it together slowly like he pieces everything together slowly: he is engaged because he is weak, and a weak heir deserves an equally weak bride. The Beifongs’ efforts to play both sides have failed, and for that they lose their precious daughter. Also their house and their fortune and their lives, though he doesn’t find that out until later.
The girl arrives in the Caldera in early spring, and for once Zuko isn’t the only one caught out. Zuko doesn’t see her until the official betrothal ceremony, which is traditional. He started wandering around the rarely-used diplomatic wing of the palace, where the girl and her retinue are staying, but he couldn’t even catch a glimpse. So he gets his first look at his future wife in the throne room, kneeling between Uncle and Azula with his father’s curtain of flames at his back. His betrothed is tiny, just a little kid drowning in pale green silk and clutching the arm of a nervous maidservant. At first Zuko thinks the woman must be her mother, but she’s too young and her clothes are too plain. On his right, Uncle seems worried. To his left, Azula is grinning.
Zuko’s bride is named Toph Beifong, and she doesn’t speak. For the entire ceremony, she stands quietly with her head down and her cloudy eyes unfocused next to her shaking servant. Lady Beifong herself doesn’t shake, standing steady even in front of the full majesty and power of the Fire Lord’s throne. Though Zuko supposes that maybe the majesty doesn’t work if you can’t see it. The last betrothal ceremony he saw was Lu Ten’s, forever and ever ago, and he doesn’t remember how they’re supposed to go. His etiquette tutor will be angry. He thought, however, that he might have a chance to talk to his betrothed. Instead he just tries to look solemn while some old sage recites both their bloodlines.
“Poor thing,” Azula coos under her breath. “Just look at her.”
“Shut up, Azula,” Zuko hisses.
“You’ll make such a cute couple,” she says. Across the room, his betrothed shifts her weight.
+
Iroh’s tea table has elaborately carved legs, dragons in flight weaving between unfurling lotus blossoms. When Zuko was little he used to hide things in the dragons’ open mouths—flaky chunks of plum pastry, which he despised, or leaves torn off the bushes in the courtyard. Now his hands are too big for such delicate work. He runs a nervous finger over a set of carved teeth anyway, and the familiarity of the wood grain is comforting.
“You must be kind to her, Nephew.”
Zuko doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t look up at his Uncle either. He knows from experience what Iroh’s face will look like, the particular kind of sincerity he can expect to find there.
“You are lucky,” Uncle says, “to be acquainted with her so young. You will have many years to become comfortable together before you marry.”
“I don’t want to get used to her,” Zuko blurts. “I want her to go away.”
Uncle hums. “Then imagine how she must feel about you, Prince Zuko.” He’s being scolded now. Zuko feels himself blush. He wishes he didn’t go so red. It’s another weakness he can’t afford.
Uncle sighs and pours himself another cup of tea. Zuko hasn’t touched his own. “Many young ladies of her background are very sheltered. The Fire Lord’s court might be unlike anything Lady Beifong has experienced before.”
“She won’t even talk to me,” Zuko says. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get to know his future wife if they haven’t even spoken, no matter how sheltered she is.
“Patience is a virtue.” Uncle’s rooms look out onto one of the family courtyards, and he has the windows open for the breeze. Zuko scowls down at the pond. “As is understanding.”
+
When Zuko wakes up from a tangle of strange, hazy dreams, he doesn’t remember at first where he is. His bed is less comfortable than it should be, and the room smaller and grayer, and there’s a strange mechanical hum in the background. His face hurts. Lady Beifong is curled up on a cushion in the corner under a red cloak that looks too big for her. She’s very small.
“Am I dead?” Zuko asks, because he didn’t think the spirit world would be hot and loud and colorless like this, but what does he know about spirits? Maybe he’s being punished. Maybe dishonor carries over.
“No,” says Lady Beifong. “Duh.”
“Oh,” says Zuko. “Sorry.”
“Why would I be here if you were dead?” Her voice is high and brash, louder than Zuko thought it would be, and her accent is strange. This is the first time he's heard her speak.
“I don’t know,” he says. The room is moving around him. It’s so loud. His face hurts.
“Can you see?”
He tries to squint, but it makes his face hurt worse. He didn’t know that was possible. “Kinda.”
“Huh. They weren’t sure if you’d be able to.”
“Who’s they?” Zuko leans up, peeling his achy body off the mattress. His arms shake under him. That’s no good. He’s already so far behind in his training. He’s hungry and thirsty and nauseous all at the same time.
“They, as in Uncle Iroh and the doctor. They also said you shouldn’t move around so much,” Lady Beifong says.
Zuko doesn’t listen, sitting bolt upright. “Why are you calling him Uncle? You have no right!”
“He said I could call him that,” she snaps. “And Uncle also said I had to watch you, and if you hurt yourself trying to yell at me about manners I’ll be in trouble.”
Zuko shuts up. Lady Beifong huffs. She isn’t wearing any shoes, Zuko realizes, and that one extra strangeness on top of all the other horrible and confusing things that have happened and continue to happen is enough to start a hateful little pull in the back of Zuko’s throat. Crying is shameful. He should know better. It’s probably not good for what’s left of his face.
“Why are you here?” Zuko says. His voice is getting thick, but even if Lady Beifong can hear it, at least she won’t be able to see tears. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know what’s going on. Uncle just said I would be safe here, so here I am. Here as in not your stupid palace, and here as in this boat. Before you ask another dumb question.”
“Lady Beifong—”
She laughs out loud. “Nobody calls me that.”
“Um. Toph?”
“Better. Now lie back down. Uncle said.”
He lies back down. His head hurts less with his eyes closed, but the dizziness is worse. He can’t hear anything out of his bandaged ear.
“Do we still have to get married?” Zuko asks.
“I hope not,” Toph says. “So there’s a silver lining, huh.”
Zuko snorts, which hurts less than trying to squint but more than sitting up.
“I mean, no offense or whatever. But I didn’t want to be a lady anyway,” she says.
Zuko’s eyes are heavy—his eye—is his other eye even still there? He would ask Toph to check but she wouldn’t be able to tell. The room seems far away, sinking by the second. He thinks someone might open the door, but he’s very tired, and if the door is open maybe Uncle is here, and maybe he can rest.