They lay in bed afterward.

Around the palace, the festivities are still going strong. Zuko wonders if he could slip out, snag a few bottles of something strong, and drink himself into oblivion. But there would be rumors. And something tells him that his new wife wouldn't be pleased.

She's not pleased with him now.

Princess Katara lays at the far edge of the bed, her naked back to him. Her shoulders shake with delicate sobs that she can't quite hide.

Neither of them had wanted this marriage. Neither of them wanted to start a family so soon. But duty is duty and if marrying a princess of the South would bring stability to his country, then he'd do it. If his people needed an heir to ensure that his crazy sister could not inherit the throne, then he'd provide that too. Zuko only regrets that his new wife must suffer his burden as well.

He reaches across their bed, across the gulf between them, and pulls her into his arms. She tries to resist, but his touch is firm and gentle. Zuko has no talent with soft words, but he knows that a gentle touch will count for something. So he holds her, stroking her hair softly, until her sobs quiet and her breathing evens.

"I'm sorry." he whispers.

"This isn't your fault." she says softly.

She turns in his arms and kisses his mouth gently. She traces the line of his lips with gentle fingers and sad eyes. He takes her hand and presses his lips to her smooth skin.

"We don't have to do this again tonight." he says.

He couldn't bear watching her cry afterward again.

Katara offers that sad smile.

"I wanted to chose my own husband," she says softly, "But I'm glad I got you, Zuko."

He wants to tell her that he feels the same, but Zuko has never been good with words. He kisses her forehead and holds her until she sleeps. It's only after she has fallen asleep that Zuko has the courage to whisper back, I'm glad, too.