“Okay,” Zuko whispered to himself. “In thirty minutes, you’re getting married.” This was that kind of speech that are designed to be spoken in front of a mirror, but every time Zuko got a glimpse of himself, he started to laugh. And then he felt sick. And then he wanted to scream. And then he felt like punching a wall.

So instead, he was muttering to himself in front of his hotel room’s large picture window. The sun was setting, and the thousands of lit windows and casino displays began to stand out in the slowly falling darkness.

“Oh, God,” Zuko groaned, his face in his hands. He could feel the rough, leathery patch of skin over his left eye and exhaled, long and steady. “A prince getting married in Las Vegas…what’s happened to the world?”

The buzzing skyline provided no answers to this deep, enigmatic question.

Zuko blinked slowly. His brown eyes felt weary from glaring out at the dazzling array of gold and red lights as other people lightheartedly enjoyed their lives.

He was going to have to just do this, he told himself as he rubbed his fingers against his throbbing temples. He was going to have to go out there, look Katara and Aang and Toph in the face, and do it. Marry him. It would be hard, but damn- it would be rewarding.

“Okay,” Zuko repeated, glancing at the merciless ticking clock. “In twenty-five minutes, you’re getting married,” He paused, sucking in breath. “To Sokka.”