Something Honorable

Character(s): Mako, and others ;D

Pairing(s): Makorra, with hints of other canon/formerly canon couples ;DD

Notes: Ohmygod, this only took me 3 months to finish. I just kept getting distracted! Inspired by an actual, real-life store in NYC. Also, beware OOC-ness, awkwardness and silliness. It's all in good fun!

The adventure is just beginning when Mako finally decides to propose to Korra.

He frets for weeks because it has to be just perfect. There's an endless list of best-case and worst-case and 'in-between-and-kind-of-bland-but-a-safe-bet-I-think-'case scenarios to torture himself over, and he does just that, hiding it pretty well too until he's caught rummaging through Jinora's collection for an illustrated book on Water Tribe traditional fabric weave patterns because yes, it is relevant.

More days fly by and at long last, with a lot of support and encouragement and exasperated reassurances from his dear brother ("Korra's a great gal, and she loves you. I'm sure she'll be happy with however you decide to do it, bro!"), mostly everything is ready. All Mako needs now is the betrothal necklace. He decides to swallow his pride and reach out for help from the others on this one, particularly seeking that friend of his who always knows how to accessorize her outfits.

"Oh, Mako," Asami simpers, "everyone knows you need Honora!"

Mako stares blankly back. Blinks twice. "I'm confused. Did you mean honor? Unless you're talking about Fire Lord Honora... but I have no clue what she'd possibly have to do with my engagement plans."

"Silly, I'm talking about Honora, the luxury chain of jewelry shops. And before you ask, yes, it was established by the Fire Lord herself! Therefore she has everything to do with your plans." She smiles. "You want nothing but the best for Korra, right?"

He tugs absentmindedly at his scarf. "Of course."

"You can't go wrong with a necklace from Honora, then," she assures him. "Korra will love it. It's foolproof, Mako."

"I don't know. Actually, after all my research I was under the impression that I'm supposed to carve the thing myself." He looks helplessly down at his hands. He's never exactly had the chance to practice his arts and crafts skills.

Asami waves her hand, dismissing that notion. "Trust me. Just go. Honora won't let you down. Did you know? Their tagline is 'restore your honor with Honora'!"

"What? Get out of town!"

"No, just teasing." She winks at him. "Go get 'er, champ. I'm really happy for you both."

Later that afternoon he gets another referral, this time from none other than Mr. Spiritual (and company). "Honora always had an eye for design ever since we were all children. I'm happy she got to expand her hobby into something more," Tenzin muses, humming thoughtfully while Meelo gnaws on his head and Rohan bounces about his ankles and Ikki spins around the room in elation because there's going to be a real wedding soon and her feels cannot be contained. "We're not exactly a family of extravagance," continues the patient patriarch, "but that's where I go when I really want to impress Pema. Or when I've, er, done something wrong and really need to apologize." He chuckles, then gets a faraway look in his eyes. "Ah! I once commissioned an Honora original, back when she was still Princess and had just started her fledgling business. I wanted a special gift for Lin, see, and Honora chose this stunning pale jadestone the exact color of Lin's eyes and—WHY AM I EVEN TELLING YOU THIS?"

Mako grits his teeth in an awkward smile and thanks the very red, very flustered airbending master for his input.

And so, Mako makes the trek to a part of town he hasn't visited since his dates with Asami all those years ago. He locates the address written in the non-bender's elegant script with relative ease; the streets are wide and clean, the signs large, the clientele decisively moneyed. Mako may be a city boy, but this is the first time he's actually visited a store so upscale. It says HONORA in big brass letters above the storefront, and he finds himself standing uncomfortably on the sidewalk for several moments, staring up at the Fire Lord's name, sweating in the midday heat. He feels nervous and out of place and, he has to admit, the prospect of proposing to the love of his life freaks him out a little too.

But only in the best way, he tells himself, smiling at the thought of his lovely Korra, and that's enough to propel him confidently through the double doors.

It's like stepping into the future. Gooseflesh prickles on his skin as he steps out of the balmy summer air and into the brightly-lit, climate-controlled boutique. He isn't familiar with the technology that keeps the place feeling like late autumn. Shivering slightly at the sudden change in temperature, Mako tightens the scarf around his neck, slowly taking in his surroundings. The decor is tasteful and minimalist, stark white accented with pearlescent blues and fiery golds, comfortably stocked display cases lit in white and lined in black velvet. There's a lot to see, and Mako takes his time just looking.

A shrill giggle breaks Mako's concentration and he turns, frowning, just now realizing that he's not the only customer there. He spots a young, giddy girl and her well-coiffed male companion hovering over a display of glittering hair accessories. The man looks vaguely familiar and sports a cool, self-satisfied smirk. This is a man who looks like he gets what he wants when he wants it, radiating sleazy confidence, nonplussed by the squealing form beside him who clings tightly to his arm as she bounces up and down.

"Oh spirits, isn't that lovely? Please, oh please can I get that one and that one and that one—"

"Whatever you want, babe-uh," the man drawls, casually running his fingers through lusciously wavy black bangs, his lined eyes sparkling, his grin widening.

Mako resists rolling his eyes as he walks past, secretly relieved that Korra isn't one of those needy, high-maintenance girly girls. Korra is feminine in her own way, and perfect just the way she is. His stomach bubbles pleasantly at the thought of his fiance-to-be and he lifts his scarf to his nose, self-conscious of the blush that's sure to be rising up his neck. Oh, Korra. What have you done to me? His features settle into a derpy smile and he's convinced that he's been engulfed in floaty little hearts... or that he would be, if he were an animated character.

"You, there. Can I help you?"

The deep, commanding voice startles him (and pops all the imaginary hearts), but it's just an employee gesturing towards him from the back of the store. Mako nods and approaches the man. "Uh, yeah—"

"Welcome to Honora. I am Noatak, your sales representative. No need to speak. I can already tell. You're a passionate young firebender ready to propose to the woman you love. You seek the appropriate token."

Mako freezes. "Uh, yeah," he repeats, scratching the back of his head in confusion. "Yes to everything. How did you know?"

"I'm just in tune with these kind of things," comes the man's mysterious reply. " True love is a revelation."

"... yes, well." Mako coughs then lets himself smile behind his hand. "I suppose so."

Noatak smoothes back his stylishly messy hair and taps a finger against his collar. "Looking for something more traditional, like a necklace? Or how about something more modern, like a ring?" he inquires, suddenly flinging out his arm, fingers splayed mere inches from Mako's forehead.

Mako takes an involuntary step back. "A necklace... would be good?"

"Magnificent. Amon it." Flipping his coal gray cloak behind him, Noatak gestures to the somewhat bewildered customer and leads him over to a different corner of the store.

Asami and Tenzin weren't kidding. Noatak places his open palms against the pristine glass top of the display case and Mako mirrors him from the other side of the counter, crouching slightly for a closer view, eyes widening as he takes in the impressive collection of betrothal necklaces in myriad styles and colors, Water Tribe pearls and Earth Kingdom jades and Fire Nation opals blazing in the lamplight, glowing like tiny speckled suns.

It's almost impossible to decide. Mako has lived most of his life under a set of rules, both from within and without, and they have largely guided his choices. They helped him win in the arena. They helped him and Bolin survive on the streets. But there is no rulebook for Korra; all he knows is to keep her safe and make her happy. He needs the perfect necklace for his forever girl: something that will reflect their unshakable bond, something she'll be proud to wear, something that will say all the words he can't seem to form.

"It appears to me you require some assistance in choosing," observes Noatak.

He glances up sheepishly. "I've never done this before. I just want to get it right, you know?"

"Oh, but of course," the man replies, nodding. "And it is my job to help. I'll bend over backwards to assist an honest customer."

Pause. "That's, ah, a great work ethic."

They spend several minutes mulling over the vast selection but eventually, with some encouragement, Mako makes his decision. He thinks his most difficult hurdle will now be deciding exactly what to engrave onto the platinum setting of the stunning cabochon opal. It's perfect, see, with swirls of red, orange and yellow dancing beneath its glassy surface, embellished with twinkling sapphires the shape of teardrops. Fancy and extravagant. But when Noatak offhandedly mentions its price tag, Mako feels his spirits plummet from the top of Avatar Aang's statue into the watery depths of Yue Bay.

Amber eyes grow wide in shock. "I didn't realize that, um..."

Noatak nods sympathetically. "It's a lot amoney, I know."

"It really is perfect, though," Mako sighs, trailing off. He plays with the edge of his scarf, the gears turning in his head, then clenches his free hand into a fist. He's spent most of his life working for what he needed, working for what Bolin wanted and needed, and now that his immediate family is expanding to include the most loyal, brave, and selfless person he's ever known Mako isn't about to change his ways.

"This is the one," he confirms, dipping his head towards the necklace. Korra's the one. He furrows his brows, his voice low and determined. "I'll figure out a way to pay for it. I'll earn it, somehow. I always do..."

"Maybe you should just tattoo the Honora logo on your chest," Noatak remarks offhandedly, examining his nails.

Mako smirks, thinking back to his Fire Ferret days. "I'll do whatever it takes!"

The salesman gives him a perplexed look. "Yes. Well." He clears his throat. "I was joking. That won't be necessary. Your intentions are honorable, but I'm sure we can simply work out some sort of payment plan."

"Ah, right, of course," Mako nods gratefully. "Could I speak to the owner, then?"

"Yes, one moment."

The man disappears into the back and Mako waits, gently tracing the edge of the pendant with his finger. He closes his eyes, a wrinkle forming between his brows. Exhaling deeply, he's fully aware of the uneasy feeling beginning to creep up on him; they're his old demons of worry, inadequacy, and not being able to follow through with his responsibilities to those he loves. He frowns. Things are different now, he tries to remind himself. You've left that life behind. You've fought for a better life and worked hard to secure a job as a cop. Bolin is safe. And Korra is your future...

Mako opens his eyes at the sound of a door sliding open; Noatak has returned, beckoning with an outstretched arm. "You've been requested. Follow me."

The firebender obeys and finds himself in a narrow corridor with beautiful antique lamps in classic Fire Nation style lining the walls. They illuminate a series of hanging frames, traditional oil paintings cast in a play of light and shadow, and Mako realizes with a start that he is looking at pictures of the royal family. "Will I actually be speaking to Fire Lord Honora?" Mako ventures, feeling very self-conscious. "I mean, I'm just a guy shopping for a betrothal necklace. I wouldn't want to bother the Fire Lord, who I'm sure must be very busy running a country..."

"Oh, no. Fire Lord Honora is certainly not here and is very tied up with the affairs of her country, as you say."

"Ah, right. Well, of course. Don't know why I thought she'd be here." Mako rubs the back of his neck, feeling more and more out of place with every step forward.

The pair ascends two flights of stairs and stops before an unmarked door. Noatak knocks three times before entering. It opens to a wide, airy room, the far wall comprised of windows overlooking Central Park, an expansive desk in the middle littered with books and scrolls and drawings. On one side there is a large, unlit fireplace surrounded by futons and ample cushions; on the other, a small kitchenette with an exquisite antique tea set on the marble counter. But none of these are most interesting thing in the room. Mako's gaze falls on a wizened old man in full Fire Nation regalia, long silver hair half-pinned up into a topknot, a rough, pink scar across his left eye and upper face; the man gets nimbly up from his seat at the desk to greet him, smiling warmly, raising his hand in a friendly little wave.

"Hello. Zuko, here."

Mako quickly brings his palms together and bows, face reddening. "F-fire Lord Zuko? Sir, it's an honor to meet you!"

"Believe me, the honor is allmine. All mine. And there's no need to address me as Fire Lord; that's Honora's title now. I'm just Zuko again. I am glad you've decided to visit me, Mako."

Mako looks up in surprise. "How do you know my name?"

"All old people know each other, don't you know that?" Zuko chuckles. "Katara has told me so much about young Avatar Korra and her friends, and she certainly never left out a single detail about the handsome firebending cop Korra is so smitten with."

Mako's face flushes again, wishing he were an earthbender at this moment so the earth could swallow him up. "I didn't realize Master Katara was so... talkative."

"That's another thing about old people," replies the former Fire Lord, an amused twitch at the corner of his lips. "Not only do we know a lot, but we're also good at sharing information. That wasn't always the case, of course. There was a time I kept to myself a lot more. But, a piece of advice for you from an old man: It is always best to keep the channels of communication open, lest the pressure builds and the dam explodes in the worst way." He frowns slightly. "And then something about watery destruction. Or, I think that's how it went..."

"Oh, that so?" Mako shifts his feet and gives a half-smile, unsure of what to do with this new turn of events and unsolicited, very confusing counsel.

"Yes indeed! But please, have a seat." Zuko leads the youth to one of the cushioned couches swathed in patterned red and gold brocade; Mako perches carefully on its edge, fully aware of the contrast between his simple cotton pants and the impossibly rich fabric, senses heightened in the presence of the friendly Fire Nation royal. Before he can protest, the older man presses a steaming ceramic teacup into his hand.

"Jasmine," explains Zuko. "One of my uncle's trademark brews. Distinctly light, subtly sweet, and perfectly calming, or so he used to say. It took me decades to get it right." He takes a seat across from Mako and picks up his own cup, sipping, inhaling deeply. Mako does the same. The aroma is both soothing and invigorating. As the minutes pass Mako finds himself becoming more comfortable in the presence of the amiable former fire lord.

They are both nursing their second cup of tea when Zuko asks if the young firebender found anything downstairs to his liking.

"Oh, yes I did..." His fingers fly to his scarf. "It was so beautiful. There was so much to choose from and your sales associate was a big help." Mako twists in his seat, meaning to thank said man once again, but the room is unexpectedly empty. Sometime over the course of the last few minutes Noatak had disappeared quickly and silently, like a shadow.

Surprised, Mako turns back to his elderly companion. Zuko merely shrugs, setting his teacup carefully onto the polished tabletop. "Eh, he does that sometimes. Don't mind him."

Down settles that vague feeling of awkwardness again.

Mako clears his throat and takes a deep, shaky breath, plunging headfirst into his primary concern before his nerves can send him running back to Air Temple Island.

"Sir, I'm here because I need to buy a betrothal necklace for Korra. I'm afraid I'm a little short on money at the moment—well, I'm not really short on money, not like we used to be, I'm perfectly capable of contributing to the household once Korra and I are married—which, hopefully, will be soon, but of course first I need to propose and I've been planning this for a while but you're selling the perfect necklace downstairs and it's just a little out of my price range at the moment—oh, who am I kidding, it's a lot out of my price range..." Mako trails off, ducking his head. He knows he's rambling and, frankly, it's embarrassing to have to say all these things aloud. Especially in front of current company.

He takes another deep breath, then looks up steadily into curious golden eyes. "Sir, let me know how I can pay. I believe Noatak mentioned a payment plan, earlier... but whatever it is, I really need that necklace."

There is an elongated pause. The room falls silent but for the twittering of birds filtering in through the open window, and the other man isn't responding and Mako's heart is in his mouth, his pulse hammering in his ears.

Spirits, he hasn't been this nervous since... since... he has no point of reference. Because it's Korra Korra Korra and that girl has flipped his entire world upside-down ever since he started allowing himself to love—

"I'm sorry," Zuko answers finally. His face is hard to read. "I'm afraid I won't be able to arrange a payment plan for you."

Mako stiffens. This is exactly what he had been fearing. He fights to keep his expression neutral as he stands and bows respectfully. He swallows twice in an attempt to get the lump out of his throat before speaking.

"I understand, sir. I'm sorry to have wasted your time. Thank you very much for the tea." He pivots quickly, heading for the door. He needs to be strategizing his next move; this isn't the first time a plan of his has fallen through. Surely, disappointments and failures in the street and probending arena are no stranger to him. But, at the moment, his mind is blank.

The former fire lord mutters something from the couch and Mako halts, turning slowly. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Never give up without a fight," repeats Zuko. He smiles. "Just where do you think you're going?"

Mako sputters a bit. "Ah. Um. My apologies, sir. I was just gonna go... because... well."

The older man looks vaguely amused. "I didn't say I wasn't going to help."

Spirits, how many times do I need to blush today?! This excessive flushing can't be good for him, even if he is a firebender.

He watches mutely as Zuko stands and navigates a large cabinet of polished mahogany. The man runs his finger along a row of labeled compartments until he finds what he's looking for, affirming his selection with a tap and a "hm." He fishes a key out of a hidden pocket in his robes and unlocks the little drawer with a gentle click. Curiosity getting the better of him, Mako edges closer to watch as Zuko reaches in then withdraws his hand quickly, something small hidden in his palm.

"Rather than purchasing a pre-crafted necklace, I thought this would be a better idea. Ahem. Not that I'm trying to undermine my daughter's business," he says conspiratorially, deep voice lowering into a mock-whisper, "but I've learned a thing or two about Water Tribe marital customs over the years. I'd also like to think I know a thing or two about avatars, having had one as a direct ancestor and one as a dear personal friend."

His fingers unfurl to reveal a roughly cut, unfinished disc of moonstone. It is white, slightly marbled, still somewhat rough in texture; catching a particular ray of light, a deep purple-blue tone shimmers across the finely striated surface of the unpolished gem.

Mako sucks in a breath. It's rough and raw and undoubtedly beautiful.

And it all comes crashing down on him. His relationship with Korra had never been picture-perfect. They were never meant to be the ideal, cookie-cutter couple, a pair manufactured to appease. She was the Avatar, but he had never cared about that. He never treated her differently because of her responsibility to the world, because of her prestigious role. By all rights, the two should never have been together. They clashed and fought, both accustomed to their own dominance and independence, both stubborn and strong. He was a firebender, cool under fire; she, a waterbender by birth, had a heart of fire.

But they loved one another. He pictures her radiant smile, bright blue eyes, incomparable strength both inside and out. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards as he recalls exactly what she can do with that strength. His heart jumps at her unbridled expressions of power... but his heart skips at her quiet, restrained expressions of weakness and fear. He wants to care for her however he can, however she would allow him to. He has seen her, held her and loved her at both her highest and lowest point. Indeed, without either of them fully conscious on the subject, they had become inextricably tied to one another, tangled by the red string. At some undefined point they had dedicated themselves to traversing this peculiar adventure called life together.

Without another word, he already knows the old fire lord is right. He'll carve a necklace for Korra, because nothing would be suitable for her unless it came from his own self, his own hands, his own heart, imperfect as he is.

However...

"I'm not a professional... I'll definitely ruin it!" Mako laments, balking. "Thank you, Zuko, sir... but I'm not sure I can—"

"Yes, you can," insists the older man. He pinches the bridge of his nose and Mako fears that he's offended him in some way, but the hand drops and there's nothing but the warmest smile on his face. Kind and patient. Just like dad...

"I used to think that way, y'know, like everything I tried to do would blow up in my face. But I had someone who believed in me and encouraged me. Some things are always worth it. I've seen many things, and I've had a few regrets. But I've never regretted helping someone out. So please, accept this." Mako opens his mouth to say something else but Zuko holds up a hand, stopping him. "I know, I know. You're used to doing things on your own. But perhaps you could consider this stone and brief gemcutting lesson as a wedding gift to you and Korra? If you still feel badly about it, I'll request one thing as payment."

"Yes, anything, sir!"

Zuko grins, eyes shining. "Could you please give me the honor of speaking at your ceremony?"

The wedding, months later, is beautiful. Mako's amateurishly carved necklace sits shimmering at the hollow of his bride's throat, iridescent and otherworldly in its glow, the awkward edges and angles adding to its charm (that's what Korra had said, anyway, the night he presented it to her, an appreciative smirk on her face and a joyful spark in her eyes). Senna and Tonraq clutch one another's hands, brimming with pride and love for their beloved daughter and new son. Bolin cries, and Iroh sniffs all gentlemanlike into a handkerchief, and Zuko makes his promised speech, a long, eloquent spiel about love and—you guessed it—honor, resulting in Katara escorting him off the stage at the thirty-minute mark because people are nodding off (or flat-out snoring) and really, Zuko, where are your manners? Making people fall asleep at a wedding...

These were the terms we agreed upon, the elderly firebender mutters defensively at the reception that follows, spicy hor'dourve in hand. It was the only honorable thing to do.

Katara sighs and pats his arm, shaking her head at her old friend.

Finally, later, Korra carries her groom bridal-style over the threshold of their new home and they have wonderful wedding night sexytimes of which you can no doubt read in countless other fan fictions because that is beyond the scope of this story and this author cannot write smut.

And Mako gains honor.

The end!