The halls of the Fire Nation Palace were quiet and still at this hour.

It was late, hours to go before dawn, and the day had been busy. It was always extraordinarily busy in the Capitol when Aang and Katara came for a visit. The early days after the war were chaotic for the staff. It was over one hundred years since the Avatar had been received with pageantry and celebration, and the adjustment was not without hiccups. Reinvention of procedures and protocols was required; not the least of which was adjusting formal dinners to accommodate a vegetarian.

Six years on, things had settled into a comfortable familiarity. The staff could still be seen jogging from place to place the morning of the Avatar's arrival but now it was with purpose instead of frantic energy.

Most of the nervous tension had been transferred more recently to Zuko, though he concealed it well enough. Years of living in Azula's shadow, his banishment, they'd all helped him learn patience. They were lessons well worn into him. He would pace, sometimes, when his nerves got the better of him, but only when he was alone.

His private apartments were a set of rooms within rooms, the inner sanctum shielded from prying eyes and sensitive ears. He spent solitary hours there, when he could. There was talk that he kept concubines but it was more supposition than rumor, the sort of thing spoken about without any surprise. The Fire Lord was always granted these dalliances. Ozai kept women, there was nothing unusual in it. It rankled Zuko to be compared to his father in any way but for this, he let it pass. It was easier. Easier to explain certain things away when perfectly normal assumptions could account for them.

He shifted in the bed, not knowing what woke him and feeling out of sorts because of it. Katara was curled into Aang's side and Zuko moved closer to him on the other, trying not to disturb either of them.

It was almost funny. His attendants would think no less of him if they found him in bed with a woman who was essentially required to be there, who was bound to him through servitude. But it would be a scandal if he was found here now, like this. He could imagine it and it set him on edge: three heroes of the Hundred Year War caught in a liaison in the Palace. Or more likely, the Fire Lord, The Avatar and his wife caught having an affair, because gossip was always as reductionist and salacious as possible. After more than a year, Zuko always came back to this, agonizing over hypotheticals.

Aang sighed in his sleep and turned his face towards Zuko and since no one was looking, he permitted himself a moment to admire him. People had a lot of things to say about the man Aang had become - that he was even-tempered and insightful and a little mysterious - but how handsome he'd grown was the most glaring change, and went almost entirely unspoken. Katara was beautiful, too, though she'd always been pretty. Lean maturity shaped both of their features. They were a striking couple, especially at formal events, and often drew stares that neither of them seemed to notice.

The irony was uncomfortable, and a little sad at times: the last airbender in the Fire Lord's bedchamber. The war had visited plenty of cruelty on all of them, but especially Aang. On the occasions when Zuko found himself particularly annoyed about having to keep their arrangement a secret, he almost wanted them to be found out. He wanted it brought out into the open, to see who would dare him to justify it, because he knew he could. After how much they'd all given, and continued to give, some small corner of their lives deserved to remain untouched by outside judgment. All of them had earned it. And who else could any of them turn to? Who else would truly understand the pressures, the stress, the anxiety? He was lost after Mai left, and once the pain ebbed away he was left with the sinking realization that he would have to start from the beginning to forge that connection with someone new. He would have to tell them about his past, his father, his banishment, the war. He would have to explain the things he'd done and had done to him. Revisiting those experiences was not something he was especially eager to do. So he closed himself off to everyone but his closest friends. When Aang and Katara moved into that void it was a relief, despite the initial awkwardness. They were a comfort to him. Zuko offered what comfort he could in return, to both of them, however fleeting.

Then his righteous anger would cool, tempered by harsh reality. It couldn't last. His advisers told him weekly that a bachelor Fire Lord was not good for public morale. He needed a Lady, and an heir to the throne. They'd offered to find someone, multiple times. There were plenty of young women among Fire Nation nobility who were suitable, who had been groomed from childhood for such things. They could find him someone beautiful and poised and regal, someone he might learn to love in time. A singular male ruler reminded the people of the Fire Nation too much of Ozai, they said, so they could not help but draw comparisons. They looked at him and remembered his father's reign, which despite the bloodiness had been a very prosperous time for his people. Now he was asking them to sacrifice, to humble themselves, and they were not taking it well. This entanglement with his friends was selfish. He was loitering, at the expense of his Nation and it's future.

Zuko didn't realize he was clenching his jaw until it started to ache. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling as he relaxed it. Taking a slow, deep breath, he closed his eyes. Beside him, Aang stirred. Zuko glanced over at him.

"You okay?" Aang mumbled without opening his eyes.

"Yeah," he replied quietly, "Sorry."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Aang asked, still sounding groggy and not at all capable of holding a conversation. Zuko gave a dubious shake of his head but a grudging smile spread across his face all the same.

"It's fine," he murmured, "Go back to sleep."

Aang twined his fingers in Katara's and rolled onto his side to face Zuko, keeping her arm draped across his waist, her chest to his back. She let out a sleepy groan of protest and moved closer to him, tightening her embrace, sliding one of her legs between his under the sheets. He rubbed his bleary eyes and leaned on his forearm to look down at Zuko, who was still staring at the ceiling.

"Have your advisers been on your case again?" Aang asked, his voice low and tired but sympathetic. Zuko ran his tongue across his teeth and shrugged.

"They're always on my case," he remarked, "It's nothing new."

Aang yawned and lay down again, pressing a kiss to Zuko's shoulder. "Doesn't mean it can't still bother you," he put in, his lips brushing his skin.

Zuko acknowledged this with a grunt. He propped himself up on his elbows to look at the two figures beside him. The lantern on the bedside table threw flickering shadows across them. Aang tilted his head to peer up at him. He'd missed them in the last few months. He missed Aang's graceful dignity, Katara's quiet self-assurance. He knew they were putting things off, too. They wanted to have children - they needed to have children - but they were waiting. They blamed other factors: their busy travel schedules, politics. These things might have played a role but Zuko knew the delay was at least partially for his benefit. Their generosity was touching, even if it wasn't altruistic. And it was revealing, a demonstration that they worried about him. They cared about him and wanted him to be happy. There weren't many people he felt he could say that about.

He found himself wanting them again and it felt imposing. He knew they were both tired after their trip and they all needed to be presentable for the start of the conference the next morning. His gaze skimmed along Aang's arm to his bare hip before he looked away, even inclined his chin in the other direction. Aang released Katara's hand and she rolled onto her stomach as he sat up slightly. Zuko was unable to feign disinterest any longer when he bent to murmur in his ear.

"It's all right," he assured him.

Zuko shook his head, "I know you're tired," he apologized.

Aang drew back and considered this a moment, "I don't think I'm ever too tired for this," he mused.

"He's really not," Katara mumbled into the pillow and Aang grinned sheepishly, holding back an embarrassed laugh. Zuko smirked and turned onto his side to face the two of them. He leaned in but it was hesitant, he was always hesitant. Aang's hand was already sliding beneath the sheets, fanning his desire and searing away his doubt.

"We missed you, too," Aang whispered as his fingers found him, aching flesh enclosed in his firm but gentle grasp. Their lips finally met and Zuko cupped his face, pulling him closer. He let out a shivery sigh as his hand began to move, their foreheads pressed together. Zuko ran his own hand down, across Aang's chest, along the ridges of his abdomen, and then his fingers collided with Katara's. He was about to pull away when she caught his wrist. She pulled him back, letting him take over, the warmth and strength of his adept touch replacing hers. Aang let out a low moan as she turned her hands to other endeavors.

Zuko dipped his head to press his lips to Aang's throat, sucking gently at his skin, careful not to leave any marks.

"Three months is too long," he murmured, his nose brushing Aang's jaw. He looked up to meet Katara's gaze. She licked her lips and smiled, and there was mischief in her eyes.

"You could just schedule a conference every month," she offered. Ensnared between them and unable to summon up a coherent response, Aang only groaned in agreement.