Yeah, yeah, another pointless one-shot. Sorry this isn't the sequel to A Little Murder. I'm working on that, but in the meantime...
He watched as they grasped each other's hands; he watched as they shared the cup of wine and exchanged the vows that would bind them together forever. And then they were married. Everyone cheered, and his heart collapsed.
He had always held the hope that he would be the one to marry her. When they were traveling together, he made every attempt to get closer to her, to get her to fall hopelessly and irrecoverably in love with him. She never noticed, or if she did, she never acknowledged his advances. He was a good friend to her, and nothing more.
Now she was married to this intrepid Earthbender, a courageous boy that she had met in the days when the Avatar was still mastering Waterbending. Apparently, she had carried her feelings for him for two years, and the two had met by chance in Omashu after the defeat of the Fire Lord. A few months had flown by in whirlwind courtship, and he had witnessed it all. It killed him to see her so in love with someone who was clearly not him.
"Zuko," his uncle announced, jabbing him in the side, "we must go congratulate the bride and groom. And grab some of those crab dumplings before they're all gone." The old man started toward the two newlyweds, who were surrounded by family and friends wishing them eternal bliss. She smiled and blushed, radiating light and happiness; her husband mirrored her.
"Zuko!" she shouted, catching his attention. She jumped into his arms and wrapped him in a warm hug. "Isn't this exciting? This is the happiest day of my life!" Tears of joy flowed freely from her face. He fought back tears of anger and heartbreak.
"Congratulations," he said calmly, putting on a false smile. "I'm glad for you." She grinned and kissed his cheek, whispering thanks, before returning to her partner's side.
The joyous festivities went on all around him, but he stood in the shadows, arms crossed over his chest. He downed every cup of rice wine offered to him, but otherwise was completely unresponsive. She occasionally glanced over in his direction from her place at the head of the table and offered him a smile; it meant nothing to him anymore, and he only stared back at her vacantly.
Before his eyes, the evening had passed and most of the guests had left. The clocks pointed to the second hour of the morning. The bride and groom would soon head to bed, and…
He felt sick at the thought. The idea of some man beside himself taking her and making her a proper wife was awful. He had loved her for so long—it wasn't fair.
A tap on the shoulder broke him from his self-pity. He turned around to face her; for the first time in the entire day, she was not smiling from ear to ear. She was somber and scared.
"Well?" she asked.
"Well, what?"
"You're not happy for me, are you?"
"O-of course I am!" he stammered. "Why would you think that I wasn't?"
She slipped her right hand into his left and looked up at him, pursing her lips together. "The way you were looking at me tonight…like you were sick…like I was killing you. Why?" A single tear rolled down her cheek; his first instinct was to wipe it away, but he couldn't anymore. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"
His breath caught in his throat.
"I loved you once," she sobbed quietly. "If you would have told me your feelings, I would love you still."
"I tried," he replied, straightening his back. "Everything I did was for you, and you never noticed."
Her eyes widened in horror and she immediately retracted her hands, hugging them around her chest and releasing a bevy of large tears. "Oh gods," she whispered to herself. "I can't believe…"
"Katara," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
She let out a cry of anguish and turned away from him. Her silken wedding robes fluttered with her as she bolted out of the inn.
"What did you do?" her husband asked from across the room. "Where is she going?"
"She's waiting for you," he said nonchalantly. "She just had to tie up one last loose end."
He grabbed a full bottle of rice wine and headed out the door carelessly. He needed one last drink in her honor; an entire bottle was nowhere near enough, but it would have to do.
This story was inspired by a bunch of different things: Tristan and Isolde, Love, Actually, and a song by Lisa Loeb. I wrote it in about half an hour. When I was supposed to be writing a very important research paper for school. So it's obviously kind of sucky.
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