The drought just made everything worse. For months it continued, and even after he and Mai had decided to end things the dry grass and absence of clouds continued to remind Zuko. He could feel the Fire Nation withering in front of him, and his council seemed to be divided between keeping their element from catching and providing the spark that would destroy everything themselves.
He was tired. There wasn’t much he could do about the drought, but Zuko kept trying to make things better in some way. He moved money around, sourced food and water, gave it out, regulated firebending, forced his way through the historical record for a precedent.
‘What do you want,’ he often found himself wanting to scream at the sky. It had been just as hard to reach Mai. I still don’t know what you wanted.