#me: ahaha no i don’t really ship zhayu

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

I am back from the dead, I guess???

Yes but I don't know how, but I had the idea of La yelling at Yue and bursting into tears when the Zhayu wedding happens.

idk, it came to me.

BESTIE WELCOME BACK!! BRO I 100% want you to share all your amazing ideas when the @zhaozaipalooza kicks off the last week of July.

Hmh, now Zhayu is very much out of my comfort zone 😭😭 LuZhao all the way BUT I’ll give this one a shot, as a treat!!

cerulean

It’s the first color that springs out at him. Blue poppies, morning glories, puckered forget-me-nots. Imported, preserved in frost, and immaculately placed, a fire lily tucked in the center. Its brilliant red shade casts over the rest, and there’s a tremble in his palm when he cradles it, inhaling through his nose.

“You’ve outdone yourself. Morning glory, forget-me-not? To remind me of…”

Home.

The woman bunching the bouquet nods brightly, flicking her chin outside of the room they’re standing in. It was her idea.

Of course.

It’s the cerulean he noticed first.

It’s her eyes that are flooded with blue that bursts like juniper tart on the tongue, that overtakes cloudy skies and glows with day.

The tremor in his hand stills.

She finally descends the steps, in iridescent silks and a dusting of furs, haloed in a sheen like the princess’s flame. The old comfort arouses that their worlds weren’t so separate. Her curiosity tangled deep with his longing, sparked a sincerity that was as much a gift as the rest of her. It left Zhao with the faint pangs of a much worse ache.

Cerulean. The rapture of summer islands and petering waves in her warmth, the grace that still came crashing forward at high tide, bright with anger. Her braid is pricked with flowers tempered in white sands, enduring dry soil and high winds - stubborn, beautiful.

It’s the simplest litany of all, but it won’t leave the whisper in his voice as she nears him: Yue. Yue. Yue.

The celebration lasts well into the evening.

Food, dance, as the North glitters.

It’s late, late enough to perch on the balcony or her favorite bridge and point out the stars - when they notice the clouds.

“That’s strange…”

Dawn is a sliver past the far ice shelves.

“What? It can’t be sunny whenever we feel like it.”

“It’s just that-”

Zhao has to steady her when the ground quakes. Ripples tossed into froth lash against the ice. The crack rings out in the dark. Winds unfurl, beating, howling, frowning down on the city.

Moments later, it begins to pour.

Yue shrieks, gloved hands reaching above her for cover. The sound is laced with laughter, as if she understands something he has not - yet.

“La!” She chides. “Oh La, La, La!”

Yue had tucked the fire lily behind his ear, and when it’s whisked free, he chases it down, grabbing the thing just a little too fast. It crumples in his fist, and Zhao huffs - eyes widening before the princess skids to a halt beside him. She’s giggling madly. “Oh, poor La. Has he burst into tears?”

Zhao is fairly certain his wife’s soundness is compromised.

At least now he can guess why, a line of sight cleared between two buildings: a hulking shape thrust out of the far ocean, watching intently, flickers of light catching on the picture of wrath.

He pales.

“No worries, no worries!” Her hand takes his, squeezing. “I had dreams about this for many nights. We came to an understanding. He’s just bitter. He won’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

Zhao is no less pale, arms braced against the deluge and a stinging wind. “What understanding?”

Her smile messes with every wild, bouncing nerve of him. “You’ll see.”

He’s not done, barking over the roar, “Why didn’t you say anything? If these nightmares were hurting you…”

“It’s for the surprise!” She releases him, poised, flyaway strands glued to her face.

And in front of his naked eyes, she starts to shimmer. Starts to lift off the ground. Starts to appear somewhat timeless. When Zhao looks up and down, he is, too. “Wh- wait! What’s this? What’s happening?”

… Pawing for the smooth ice walls as he’s tugged to her height, swallowing a pitched yelp. He clings to a jutting ledge, bent fingers and flailing feet to her nonplussed witness. Light spills into their periphery before the storm settles. Zhao touches the pathway as the canal water simmers to a cool. He’s panting, the betrothed’s outfit rumpled to his neck.

“Wh…” A mesmerizing glow sinks through the skin of his palms, lost between one blink and the next.

He feels a permanence brush over him like clouds, same as the flowers encased in a waterbender’s delicate coat of ice.

Zhao’s eyes slip closed.

When his senses surface, Yue is beside him. Crisp as the cerulean-tinted sky. The glory of the morning pinkens the wisps of faraway cirri, and a drizzle remains. How long has it been…?

Her finger lights above his lip.

“The Moon Spirit’s equal changes with her form.” It drifts to his chest, above the heart.

“In this life, it’s not the black koi. It’s you.”

He can’t speak.

“You mean, I… we…”

The responsibility!

As if pleasing a wife wasn’t hard enough - he changed the tide and dictated the storm, carved the seas, sent monsoons, pushed the world as she pulled?

“… we can sail as far out as we want? Just the two of us? The wind and the waves, they’re both unpredictable - but under us, led by us…”

She nods, her brow raising as a breathless laugh escapes him. Zhao glances around, the brisk gale in his lungs filtering without a telltale itch - a sore throat, numb face, stung nose. It’s an even exchange, like the cold air finally minds him.

Then his arms wrap underneath her and lift her into the air. Yue startles, bubbling with laughter, and he’s unafraid, unabashed, heels spinning, surefooted on the ice, reeling with the possibilities.

“We’ll go sailing - we’ll travel to the ends of the earth and back again. I’ll show you every place you asked to know. I’ll show you my home, we’ll make it our home… All the world’s our adventure now, princess. All the world!”

They stop - she holds his face and smashes a kiss to it, tasting salt and sweetness, woodsmoke, warmth on their skin and within it, wonder.

Their foreheads press, arms knit. Yue shivers.

Don’t you know? “All the world to me is you.”