Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Zuko remarks, grimacing as soon as the words leave his mouth.

The two Royal Guards sitting on either side of Zuko blink at him with confusion before they look outside the carriage windows at the fog that blurs their vision of the surrounding forest.

They turn back to him with duo forced smiles; the ones that Zuko receives when people fear that voicing their honest opinions with the Firelord will lead to painful consequences.

“Certainly, My Lord.”

“I can’t imagine a better day.”

Zuko sighs and dons a false smile of his own.

The return from Ba Sing Se never ceases to be a bittersweet journey for Zuko. On one hand, he’s never seen his uncle happier than he is now, working at the Jasmine Dragon with his only worries being when the next shipment of his tea orders will be. 

On the other, it is yet another reminder that he is not Lee, the nephew of Mushi, but instead Firelord Zuko - leader of an entire nation full of effervescent citizens, yet spends a majority of his time wandering the palace halls by himself.

Four years as reigning Firelord and he still has to heal the wounds left behind by his father. His staff have yet to completely trust him, and his frustration grows with each passing day.

It’s quite embarrassing for Zuko to admit, but a small, pathetic part of him longs for his younger years when the palace breathed life into every hallway. 

They were far from the happiest of times, but he can’t help but wonder - what if ?

What if he had a loving family; a mother who didn’t run in fear for her life, a father he didn’t have to duel for a throne and a sister he hadn’t failed to protect?

Zuko sucks in air through clenched teeth with a shake of his head. His solitude was getting the better of him and now look, he was wishing for things that couldn't exist.

Perhaps he should pay a visit to Mai and Ty Lee, he muses.

As they pass a spring, Zuko leans his head slightly outside the carriage window with the intention to redirect their course, when he hears it.

A high pitched noise, barely audible over the water rushing beside them.

“Stop!” Zuko demands the coachman, and waits until the dragon moose slows to a halt before he steals a sword from one of the guards and kicks open the door, leaping out of the carriage without hesitation.

"Your highness!" The guard whose sword he’s stolen exclaims from behind him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” The other one calls as the two scramble out of the wagon.

Zuko holds up a hand, effectively silencing them, and strains to listen for another sound.

A beat. Another wail.

His good eye squints as he struggles to spot the source of the noise hidden in the thick layer of mist. Zuko ventures further into the woods and steps over shrubbery with attentiveness, ignoring the calls of his guards to return to safety. 

He’s relying solely on his instinct and the general direction of which he heard the cry. He’s led to the front of a small cottage. The place is clearly uninhabited, save for the moss and vines that have long chosen to make their home here, concealing the dwelling’s wooden structure with their grimy stalks and leaves.

To the side of it is the spring, its water glistening like jewels as it burbles down its rocky-bedded path. 

It is there where Zuko sees a sort of clump, a mess of what looks like garbage and branches lumped together.

“Your highness, this could be a trap. Please return at once.” A guard says as Zuko nears the strange pile with a sword at the ready. “We’ve all heard the rumours pertaining to the New Ozai Society.”

Zuko, never the one for self preservation, ignores him and uses the tip of his weapon to brush aside some of the debris.

He pokes at the lump of forest and it cries back at him in answer.

“What the…” Zuko’s heart leaps in his throat and he throws the sword to the side for the guards to pick up.

Kneeling, he reaches under the debris, gritting his teeth when needle-like edges of twigs cut at his skin. He knows he’s found what he’s looking for when he feels smooth linen under his fingertips instead of hard sticks, and pulls out the bundle with one strong tug.

In his hands, he holds a tiny, wailing baby. 

“We need to get back to the palace. Now!” Zuko and his guards all run back to the carriage, and he demands for the coachmen to get there in half time.

The carriage shakes excessively with the speed of the dragon moose, and the child screams a high pitched shriek each time its little body gets jerked around in Zuko’s arms. He gently bounces it in what he hopes is a soothing manner.

“It’s alright, little one,” He reassures it with a mumble, pulling the baby closer to his heart so it can feel the steady beat throughout the wobbliness of the ride.

The infant manages to calm down eventually and Zuko lets out a sigh of relief when the baby’s face no longer scrunches in displeasure, only resorting to soft whimpers.

Then, finally, the baby opens its eyes, and Zuko and the two guards can barely contain their gasps of surprise.

“Oh,” Zuko breathes out in awe as he stares into the terrified emerald eyes of the child.

Zuko barely takes one step through the large doors of the palace before nurses and servants alike are swarming around him and the baby. The baby lets out an uncomfortable whine, and Zuko has to bark at them to give them breathing space.

“Come,” Kazue, the head nurse at the palace, says with a gentle smile, the faint laughter lines near her eyes crinkling. She makes a motion towards the child and Zuko instinctively takes a step back.

Zuko mentally berates himself as amusement dawns over Kazue, because if there’s anyone in the palace that has full confidence in their abilities of caring for children, it is her.

“Apologies,” he says. “Here, take the child.” 

Kazue’s eyebrows lift when Zuko holds the infant out like a peace offering, and says, “Carry the baby for now, Firelord.”

She begins to lead the way to the infirmary when one of the servants, Takibi, stops Zuko in his tracks with an unassertive hand to the Firelord’s arm, which is immediately drawn back when Zuko faces him.

“Uh, sir,” Takibi says, nerves seeping into his voice as he inclines his head in respect. “I’m sorry to inform you, but you still have duties scheduled for the remainder of the day. I’m sure you can check on the child afterwards.”

“Cancel it all,” Zuko says with finality and walks away.

Zuko allows Kazue to take the baby from his arms when they arrive at the infirmary, carefully adjusting the filthy blanket over its body to protect it from the chill of the room. 

Protectiveness bubbles in his chest when the baby squirms in the nurse’s embrace and reaches towards Zuko.

The last time Zuko felt the need to care for someone like this was Azula, when he had last seen her before his final Agni Kai with his father. 

Ozai had reduced his baby sister to nothing but hysterics before Zuko was given the chance to save her. The regret of it all weighs heavily on his shoulders, pulling him under the heavy blanket of shame.

How fragile she had seemed the day of their reencounter; the way her golden eyes had flittered, torn between fear and anger at his sudden appearance on fire nation territory, her mouth had curled into a snarl but it trembled all the same.

A whine echoes in the room, and Zuko takes an instinctive step towards the infant. Kazue takes notice and gives him a reassuring smile before freeing the child from the torn rags and replacing it with a softer - and cleaner - cover.

The baby observes all the nurses surrounding it, green eyes on display for all to see. If they are surprised by the sudden appearance of an earth kingdom infant, they don’t show it.

Zuko joins Kazue where she’s looking over the baby lying on the bed. She applies a thick green salve on the small wounds that trail along the baby’s arms and face, and then dresses it with wrappings to protect it from rubbing off.

The baby tries to swat Kazue away, so Zuko takes the initiative to distract the child by poking at its feet. It giggles at his diversion, so he does it again. It laughs again and Zuko tickles at the child’s stomach until it squirms around in glee.

“Poor baby,” Kazue says, breaking the trance. She stares down sadly at the wriggling infant. “Who would abandon their daughter like this?”

Ozai had abandoned his daughter when she needed him most, but then again, hadn’t Zuko?

“Daughter?” Zuko repeats with a suddenly dry throat, and Kazue nods. The baby takes hold of Zuko’s pointer finger with her two pudgy hands and brings it towards her drooling mouth.

“She looks about six months old. I don’t know how long she was out there for, but the poor thing looks starved.”

As if to prove Kazue’s point, the baby starts to suck on Zuko’s finger hungrily, and he immediately pulls away.

“Don’t do that!” Zuko chides, wiping the baby spit on his robes. “It’s unsanitary.”

Kazue laughs delightedly despite her previous upset and pats Zuko on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go take a bath and change into a fresh pair of robes. You can come back after bringing some food - for you and the little one here. It’ll be more productive than you standing by and fretting like a mother tigerdillo.”

She taps the baby on the nose, and the child tries to eat that finger too.

“I am not fretting like a mother tigerdillo,” Zuko says defensively.

“Yes you are,” Kazue says with a roll of her eyes. “Go make yourself useful, Firelord Zuko.”

Zuko doesn’t pout at mockery of his title, he really doesn’t. He simply scowls at Kazue, who stares at him unimpressed as though she’s witnessing a tantrum from one of her own children. Zuko relents and starts heading towards the doors with the grace of an upset lionseal.

“Fine," Zuko says stubbornly, his footsteps akin to a child stomping to a time out corner. “But I’m doing this because I chose to, not because of you, Kazue. I’m the Firelord and I don’t take orders - I make them. Don’t you ever order me again.”

Kazue waves a flippant hand at him and picks up the child, nose wrinkling when she sniffs the infant’s hair.

“That was an order - you hear me?” Zuko huffs at Kazue’s retreating form as she disappears into the adjoining bathroom with the baby, presumably to give her a bath.

The nurses remaining in the infirmary fidget uncomfortably where they stand, peeking at Zuko every now and then.

“I’ll be right back,” Zuko declares. “Go help Kazue change diapers. Or something.” And leaves the room, doors slamming behind him.

Zuko wakes to the dim lights of the infirmary, his lower back protesting as he shifts slightly.

He squints at the wall, half asleep and vaguely recalling himself insisting on staying with the child overnight after his, what Kazue likes to call, ‘recharge’. She had listened to his entire five minute reasoning with an all-knowing glint, then moved to demonstrating on how to tuck in the baby properly so that she would be both comfortable and secure.

Though there had been another bed right beside the child’s, it wasn’t close enough for Zuko, and he had instead chosen to bring over a chair and rest with his head in the small space above where the child lay.

(The palace infirmary was never designed to care for children, Zuko had noticed while double-checking the pillows that had been stacked as replacement for the usual lattice bars that would be found on a crib.)

For the first time in what feels like forever, he hears a quiet sob in the night that isn’t his own agony. The cry comes from close by, so Zuko peels his cheek off the bed and sees the baby with tears running down her chubby cheeks, fist closed around Zuko’s pinkie.

It roused him from any sleep that had been leftover, and he snapped to attention, quickly standing up despite the ache in his body from being hunched over.

“You get nightmares too, huh?” he asks and strokes her hair, hoping that it’s enough to calm her. She stops crying as soon as she feels the caresses on the top of her head, but continues to whine pitifully.

She raises both arms and Zuko doesn’t hesitate to lift her up and hug her close to his chest. He holds her carefully, not wanting to accidentally cause her harm as one hand raises so he can rub soothing circles in her back with his thumb.

“Don’t worry,” Zuko mumbles as she hiccups into his shoulder, the fabric of his sleep robe dampening from her tears. “You’re safe with me. Nothing can hurt you here.” He leans his cheek on top of her head, taking in her warmth. 

She smells of the citrusy soap -  lemon infused with mango. Zuko is grateful that Kazue gave her a thorough bath. Who knows how long the baby had stayed in the forest? 

They stand there until Zuko is too exhausted to keep upright, so he pushes aside the pillows and lays down on the bed. The baby breaks into a new set of sobs, as if fearing the idea of falling asleep again and being forced to confront her terrors.

He doesn’t have to wonder what it takes for a child so young to be afraid of their own thoughts. 

Zuko wishes that they had the ability to understand each other, so that she could describe her worries and he could soothe them out of existence.

For now, this is all he can give her. So, until sleep takes over, this is how they remain - with her sniffling over a horror much too big for her small heart, and Zuko longing for nothing more than to be able to take all her pain and bear it for her.

(Kazue finds them two hours later, tear tracks staining both of their cheeks.

She doesn’t bring it to discussion when Zuko wakes up late that morning.)

The days pass by like a blur, and Zuko spends less time doing official duties and more time bonding with the child.

Servants and officials attempt to persuade him to let the nurses babysit, but he won’t have any of it.

This baby is the most esteemed guest the Royal Palace has ever had the honour of hosting and as the Firelord, it is his noble obligation that she has a proper tour of the entire place.

He brings her to every place he can think of, from the bustling kitchens filled with bumbling chefs to the secret underlying tunnels.

(He had taken her to the portrait hall once, and he had valued her input immensely.

“I agree,” he had said, nodding, after she took a few moments to babble passionately in front of the framed portrait of Sozin, ending the spiel with saliva dribbling down her chin. “He’s one of my least favourites, too.”)

In fact, he had even brought her to a meeting. It was meant to be a discussion about the future arrival of the Avatar and his friends, but it hadn’t gone as planned, with an official stating that it was ‘unseemly for a Firelord to carry around an Earth bastard’.

Baby, Zuko now calls her in lieu of a name, had held herself with dignity, and put the others in the meeting to shame with her class.

It’s more than he can say for the official, who had been dragged out by the guards with a snap of Zuko’s fingers.

They had visited the gardens a few times as well, because Zuko had quickly discovered that Baby, too, appreciates the privilege he holds of being able to house a plethora of turtleduck families.

(He remembers the first time he brought her to the gardens for a picnic breakfast under Agni’s morning light.

A mother turtleduck and her offspring had waddled over to steal some quick pecks at their food and Zuko had worried Baby would burst out into tears, especially when the mother had started to sample at her new pair of shoes.

Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to see a wide grin on her face. He guided her fingers through safely petting the turtleducks, and the delight in her contagious giggles almost made Zuko forget what it was like to see the world through bleak eyes.)

Having Baby around gave the palace the rebirth Zuko had been searching for for ages; he hasn’t felt this enthusiastic to rise in the mornings since the day before his mother had left him.

Which is why it shouldn’t have come to a surprise when the spirits decide to take this from him as well.

“We’ve found a place for her.” Kazue says during Baby’s usual evening check up, almost a week of her being under Zuko’s supervision.

“You have?” Zuko asks, voice on the brink of falling to pieces.

“Yes,” Kazue confirms as Baby tries to chew on her own toes. “King Kuei himself recommended it in his letter. It has a wonderful reputation and a talented staff, so there shouldn’t be any problems.”

“Oh.” is all Zuko can say, because there is indeed a problem, which is that Zuko had already assumed that a place for the baby was found, and that place was in the palace with him.

“Sounds wonderful,” Zuko lies and forces a smile when Baby makes grabby hands at him as soon as Kazue sits her upright on the bed.

Kazue places the baby in his arms and sends him a pitying look that most palace workers would never give. He pointedly doesn’t acknowledge said look in fear of breaking down at her sympathy. 

He swallows down the knot in his throat. “Yeah, perfect. Really.”

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” Kazue says softly and rubs his shoulder. Zuko assumes this is her motherly instincts kicking in, but he brushes her touch away because he’s long past being a child in need of parental comfort.

Kazue smiles, concern etched into every inch of her expression. “Who knows? She might turn out to be an Earthbender. They’ll know how to teach her there. You’re only twenty years old, Zuko. And you’re the firelord.”

Many people his age get married and have families, sometimes even younger than he is now. But he doesn’t voice this out loud.

“You’re right,” Zuko mumbles in agreement and logically, he knows she is. Zuko barely has enough time as it is to care for himself, let alone the life of someone who would need to be taken care of full time.

But he’s got Baby’s small body in his embrace and can feel her shake with laughter as she tries to reach for his headpiece, and he can’t help himself from selfishly wanting to keep her.

“When do we leave?” Zuko forces himself to ask.

“Tomorrow morning. The sooner the better. I believe other staff members have already packed your necessities.”

It’s far too soon.

He nods numbly and Baby grabs at the slight downturn of his mouth. He gently pushes it away.

“It’s for the best.” Kazue reassures. She flashes him a sad smile before Zuko bids her goodnight and leaves the infirmary.

It’s for the best, Zuko reminds himself as he brings Baby up to his chambers for the last time.

His belongings for their trip mock him from where they sit in the corner of the room. He narrows his good eye at them, but they remain to remind him of the time restriction he has with Baby.

He places her down on the pillows and she immediately latches onto the blankets, gurgling as she shakes it in her grasp.

Has she always been so little? She appears smaller now than ever, swaddled under the crimson sheets.

Baby barely takes up space in his king sized bed, yet he feels her presence fill the entire room.

She babbles all the while, and Zuko pretends to have a conversation with her and hums wherever he deems is appropriate in her nighttime ritual. He blows out the last candle by his bedside and she coos in the darkness, no doubt searching for him.

If he doesn’t think too hard, he can pretend that this is just a regular night and they’ll wake up the next day to eat breakfast, and proceed to attend another meeting where they’ll piss off another council member who will deem it unbecoming of a Firelord to carry an Earth baby around.

It’s for the best, he reminds himself as he lays down on the mattress and Baby tries to crawl onto his chest like she usually does, and he hoists her up as he typically will. He kisses the top of her forehead as he’s accustomed to, and she places an ear to his heart just as she has done the previous nights.

He holds her a little closer to himself, hoping that the newly erratic beat won’t disturb her sleep.

Zuko is doing this for her, because she deserves a home with a family and parents better than he will ever be. He barely knows what it means to have a father, let alone what it means to be one.

“It’s for the best,” he repeats aloud in the silence of the room, the only sound being the soft breathing of Baby as she drifts into a peaceful sleep. 

The glass doors of the balcony shatter sinisterly and Zuko jolts awake, one hand cradling Baby so she doesn’t slip off his chest as he sits up.

“Who’s there?” He demands, hoping to Agni that he won’t have to fight.

Agni doesn’t return his wishes, and he gets a flame thrown at him in response, prompting him to leap off the bed, bringing a pillow with him. 

He flings a flame back without checking to see if it’s hit its target, using it as a distraction to set Baby in a corner of the room with the cushion.

An intruder in dark red tries to cross over the bed and reach the baby but Zuko moves quicker. He tackles them to the other side, and slams their back onto the carpeted floor as hard as he can, his fingers curling around their shoulders in a vice grip.

He can hear Baby crying in the corner and he aims for a blow to the attacker’s head, wanting to end this swiftly and carry the infant far far away.

But the intruder dodges the blow and, taking advantage of Zuko’s momentary surprise, knees him in the stomach. The intruder kicks themselves to their feet and aims a blast in the child’s direction.

Baby screams a horrible scream, and that’s when red heat engulfs Zuko’s vision. He pulls back the intruder’s blaze before it can reach her.

Rage overcomes him, blinding him as he shoots inferno after inferno at the intruder, not realizing how far the flames are spreading. The room blazes with each angered exhale and the flames lick all over the bed frame, consuming it, suffocating those in the chambers as it takes oxygen with it as it grows.

Zuko can’t hear anything but the sound of his heartbeat. It isn’t until he’s taking a moment to compose himself that he realizes the intruder is already passed out, laying on his back with burns searing through his clothes.

Baby screams again, and he rushes over to her, standing over her. 

He stares down as she wails in fear, sobbing, reminding him of a memory he’s tried to forget for almost a decade as he towers over her on the floor, crying up at him as a flame comes out of his fist.

He pulls back his fire and drops to his knees, thumb running over a discolouration on her cheek. She flinches back.

No. No no no.

He’s burned her.

“Firelord Zuko!” Ueda, one of the guards, yells as the chamber doors burst open. They pull Zuko out from the room as he clutches onto Baby, searching her for more burns.

Servants and nurses wait anxiously outside, holding jugs of water and towels, ready to assist with any damage they’re faced with.

“What happened?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Is the baby okay?”

The voices around him all ask and he tries to explain that he’s hurt Baby but all he can hear are her cries of pain and his voice dies in his throat.

“Zuko,” a firmer voice rings out.

Zuko finds his face in the grip of a concerned looking Kazue. “Zuko, what’s wrong?”

A strangled noise escapes him and he holds Baby out towards her as she screams her little lungs out, breaking Zuko’s heart with every tear that falls down her face.

“I burned her. Please, help.” Zuko nearly sobs in front of all the staff and Kazue’s eyes widen at his admittance, but she gets to work immediately. 

She tries to pull Baby completely from him but he keeps a firm grip on her hand. “Wait -”

“Okay. Okay, I won’t take her,” Kazue insists, moving closer so Zuko doesn’t have to stretch to hold Baby. 

Kazue nods towards the group of servants and nurses and they get to work, surrounding Baby and Zuko, wiping the soot from their faces with wet rags.

All the while, Zuko grips onto Baby like a lifeline, holding his breath in wait as Kazue gently wipes the residue from her, revealing the skin underneath. 

“Zuko,” Kazue says after a while of searching. “Zuko, she’s fine.”

Zuko shakes his head insistently and looks at Baby’s cheek. “She got burnt.”

“Zuko, it’s barely a singe. We’ll call for a healer from the Northern Water Tribe and it’ll be like it never happened.”

But it won’t be, because even when the scalding has disappeared from Baby’s skin, Zuko will always see it there to remind him of the ever-growing list of his failures.

Kazue tries to pass Baby over to Zuko, but Zuko drops Baby’s hand altogether and takes a step back before he accidentally burns her with his fingertips.

“Zuko, please. She wants you to hold her.” And Zuko is stupefied to find that it’s the truth.

Baby rests in Kazue’s hold, but she continues to reach for Zuko with the same faith as she has had this past week, as though he isn’t the reason for her hurt in the first place.

It instills equal parts of protectiveness and fear in Zuko, that this baby has endured more harm by Zuko’s own two hands than an intruder with the probable intent to assassinate her, yet he is the one she entrusts to shelter her already cracked heart.

Briefly, he wonders if there was ever a time of innocence when he had put the same blind trust in his father; a time where he believed Ozai would protect him from the terrors beyond the palace walls before he had been scarred from its core.

With a trembling voice, he says, “Yeah, okay.” and allows Kazue to shift Baby to him.

“You seem alright for now, but it’s best to go to the infirmary. Just to be sure,” Kazue’s voice says from what seems a great distance away.

“Alright,” he thinks he says back as he stares into the gaping and ever-trusting eyes of the child.

After a moment, she coos and curls into him, placing her head in the crook of his neck.

“All good,” Kazue says when she’s done checking Zuko and the baby for any lingering wounds.

They were both more than a little overwhelmed by the time Kazue had led them to an infirmary bed.

Baby sits in Zuko’s lap and with her fingers in her mouth. Her first tooth has yet to grow in and Zuko doesn’t have the heart to stop her. Besides, if it was a hindrance to Kazue’s work, she hadn’t complained.

Kazue walks to the other side of the room, towards a table full of medicine.

Baby peers up at Zuko curiously and places a wet hand on his cheek.

“Bah?” She inquires, asking a question that she can’t form into a phrase. But Zuko understands her completely.

He’s more than certain that the staff in the Earth kingdom can properly look after her, but Zuko knows what it feels like to no longer have his loved ones and wonder if they’ll ever come back.

Uncle Iroh always said that destiny was a funny thing - that the spirits’ had odd paths of fate, and though it may not always be clear in the beginning, an open heart will always bring them where they were meant to be.

Perhaps that is why his mother had vanished into the night, away from her children but keeping them all alive.

Perhaps destiny was the one that led to his banishment in refusal to leave him alone with the monster known as his father.

Perhaps, Zuko thinks, this is the spirits’ way of repaying them both for the families they’ve lost.

He’s hurt the baby once before, but he has the rest of her life to make it up to her.

He promises never to fail her again.

“... Kazue?” He calls tentatively.

“I know,” Kazue says with that ever-understanding grin of hers. “I’ll send a letter to the Earth kingdom. I’m sure they’ll be understanding.”

“Thank you,” Zuko says.

“Bah!" His new daughter says and slaps his cheek happily as if she knows what has just transpired, and he smiles down timidly to match her glee.

A few days later, he’s sitting at the head of the meeting table in the throne room. Baby sits on the surface on his left.

“Firelord Zuko,” General Kenji pipes up from the other end. “Have you reconsidered my proposition for stricter security surrounding the local prisons?”

Zuko hums noncommittally, “Yes.”

“And what was the conclusion?”

Zuko turns to Baby, who babbles before slapping both her palms down on the table with a resolute ‘Gah!’. Zuko nods solemnly at her decision and turns his attention back to the general.

“The baby says that’s dumb, so we will not be doing that. This meeting is over,” Zuko announces, and leaves the room with a laughing child cradled in his arms, the general spluttering in confusion behind them.

Zuko had called for a mass hiring for more Earth kingdom staff the day he decided to keep Baby. He felt it best to have ‘more earthiness’ around the palace, if not to just make Baby feel more comfortable growing up in an environment where she wouldn’t be solely surrounded by fire nation.

Zuko is on his way back to his chambers, ranting to Baby about why when it comes to things such as soldiers, it’s better to have less of them in public.

He spots one of the newer Earth kingdom servants making an intricate braid in the hair of Li Mei, another new, but younger, hired staff.

Baby gives them a friendly wave and their faces light up, only for them to take one glance at the Firelord and disperse.

Zuko sighs as he watches their retreating figures and Baby pats his cheek like she knows that he needs comfort.

He thinks of this moment when they return to the chambers, and looks at Baby’s hair. It’s not long enough for a braid, but Zuko thinks of the possibilities of Baby growing up and asking him to do her hair, and him having no clue what to do.

And that just won’t do.

He looks at the mirror and examines his own hair, following the strands to where the tips barely brush past his ears. It used to be much longer than it is now. 

(After his coronation, his uncle had suggested that longer hair might suit Zuko nicely.

For a year and a half, Zuko had humored him, refraining from cutting it and letting it flow past his shoulders and down his back.

He was very fond of the look for a long while. That was, until, a staff member had made a passing comment about the uncanny resemblance between him and his father that had filled Zuko with dread.

That same evening, Zuko had taken his dinner knife and cut his hair to the very roots. Though he’s never cut his hair shorter than that afterwards, he trims it every time his reflection morphs into Ozai.)

“Excuse me?”

The Earth kingdom maid does a double take at Zuko from where she’s dusting a portrait on the wall, and then dutifully bows.

“Hello,” Zuko greets with a small wave. “It’s me. Zuko.” 

'It's me'? Seriously?!

“Firelord Zuko,” the maid says, politely disregarding his clumsy introduction as she straightens herself. “How are you today?”

“Good, good,” Zuko says awkwardly, bowing at the maid as well. She blinks at him and he feels the familiar heat of embarrassment rush to his cheeks.

Stupid!

“I saw you braiding Li Mei’s hair earlier,” he begins. Her expression hardens, and Zuko wants nothing more than to run away and hide in the nearest room.

“I didn’t realise that was against the rules.” she says defensively.

“It’s not! Perfectly fine - braid all the hair you want!” Zuko quickly reassures her. “I was just wondering if you could teach me how to do it.”

“You want to learn how to braid?” she asks and looks pointedly at his hair.

“Not for me,” Zuko self-consciously brushes back the stray hairs that have come loose from his topknot. “For- for my daughter.”

His daughter. It’s the first time he’s said those words out loud and something in his chest flutters at the acknowledgement.

“Well... For your daughter... Okay,” the maid agrees with a hesitant smile, most likely thinking of the way Baby had greeted her in the hallways. Zuko can’t blame her; he has a hard time denying anything involving that child, and he knows it’s going to be that much harder when Baby starts speaking.

“I have some free time later this evening, right before dinner?” She suggests. 

“Sounds perfect,” Zuko nods and bows. “My name is Zuko, by the way. Just Zuko - no ‘Firelord’.”

Any hesitancy in her face disappears as she laughs and bows as well.

“It’s nice to meet you ‘just Zuko.’ I’m ‘just’ Jin,” she smiles. “I look forward to seeing you and your daughter…”

“Baby,” he finishes for her. 

‘Just’ Jin blinks at him. “Your daughter Baby?”

“Oh,” Zuko says, the realization dawning. “Um, no. Sorry. She - uh, doesn’t have a name. Yet.”

“Oh,” Jin says, brows raising. “Okay. Well, anyways, I’ll see you two later.” She flashes him a smile and goes back to her duties.

There are no turtleducks to quack greetings at Zuko and Baby’s arrival to the gardens since the water in the pond is too agitated for them to swim around peacefully. 

Zuko likes to bring Baby here anyways, because he wants her to get some fresh air, and this is as far as he can go without having to leave the safety of the palace.

Next to the duck pond, Zuko lifts Baby high above his head, pretending as though she’s flying. She giggles from her place in the air with her arms flailing, and the wind dances alongside her.

(His mother used to play this game with him before he had gotten too heavy for her to hold him up. She would call to him from below, and he would pretend that he was flying freely above the fire nation, higher than his father, listing all the places he would travel to if his father had let him.)

“If you could give yourself a name, what would it be?” Zuko asks gently, watching as his daughter tries to catch the leaves floating by.

She looks down at him and prattles away.

(“You want to visit the Earth Kingdom?” his mother asked with a laugh and Zuko nods enthusiastically. 

“I’m gonna be an Earthbender!”  he declared with all the confidence of a four year old, blowing with wind as though it were coming from his own lungs. 

“An Earthbender in the fire nation’s royal family. Imagine that.")

“Ha, or Mai?” Zuko debates with a hum. He wasn’t sure if ‘Ha’ had ever been used as a name, and though Mai was pronounced differently than the Mai he knows, it was just close enough that Zuko felt less than comfortable with it.

“Hm. Nevermind.”

("Or I’ll be an Airbender!”  Zuko exclaimed when the wind puffed against his face. “Or maybe a Waterbender!"

When he looked down, he saw the concern in his mother’s troubled smile.

“What about being a Firebender?”)

Zuko thinks of the moment he first saw her near the spring. The way her voice, though tiny and full of fright, had been strong enough for him to hear above the sound of the current flowing down hill.

Beside them, the pond sloshes around, spilling onto the grass. The water of the spring, though beautiful to look at, must have sounded like lightning to the poor lost baby.

(“Oh,”  Zuko said, wiggling until his mother had let him down. “Father won’t let me be one.”

“What do you mean?”  his mother asked with that frown she got whenever they brought his father up.

“He says I’m no good at it.”)

Baby laughs, the sound echoing off the walls surrounding the garden. 

(His mother kneeled down to his height, lifting his chin with a tilt of her finger so Zuko would stop staring at his feet.

“Zuko,” his mother said, “it doesn’t matter what your father says.”)

Then, a word flutters around his mind. 

Zuko tosses the name around, and it sounds perfect.

("If you want to be a Firebender, then you’re going to grow to be a powerful one,” his mother seemed to believe what she was saying, and Zuko felt hope rise in him.

“Promise?”

“I promise. You’re going to be the best you, and no one can take that from you.”)

He says three words that he’s only said a few times to his mother when he wasn’t so afraid of the retributions.

“I love you, Izumi,” Zuko says, hoping she can hear him from where she floats above him.

("I love you, Zuko,” his mother said, hugging him.)

“Izumi,” he repeats once more for good measure with a beam, so Agni above knows it’s true beyond any doubt. Her name feels like a breath he’s never taken before.

(“I love you, Mommy,”  he said back, holding on to her as tightly as she was holding onto him.)

Izumi grins down at him, and he knows that she loves him back.

The wind continues to blow, but in the pond, the water gently stirs, finally finding its peace.

Chapter Text

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Zuko addresses his esteemed audience members. He pauses to reflect on his phrasing, and then hastily adds on, “oh - and uh, human beings. We don’t discriminate here in the Fire Nation. Just another thing I’ve been working to improve as the Firelord.”

He meets their gaze and they stare back at him, stony and unblinking.

“Delightful,” he mutters sarcastically under his breath.

He knew he should've gone to the turtleducks beforehand when he had the chance - at least then he'd get a response.

Mustering his best ‘Firelord voice’, he says, “In my humble opinion, I believe that it would be beneficial to exchange our cultures with each other in certain aspects. We could start with, erm…” Zuko trails off, his mind drawing a blank, as though he hadn’t spent hours before bed last night reviewing and memorizing each sentence of his speech regarding the Peace Treaty renewal.

Shit. What was it he wrote last night? He’d been so distracted fending off an insistent Izumi trying to devour his notes that he’d never fully registered what he was writing on the scrolls.

“By - uh… Education! Promoting travelling and living in new places, and... Stuff?” Zuko finishes lamely, his mouth already curled in displeasure at his own words before his spiel has even ended.

His audience sits in front of him, stock-still and impassive at the catastrophe of a speech he had spent hours working on. He tries to be patient, he truly does. Zuko’s waited years to have a private conference with Avatar Aang and the group that had partaken in ending the war against his father, but the seconds continue to drag on, and he can’t help but grow frustrated.

And now, with a new daughter from the Earth kingdom, the freedom from any lingering hostility between each nation was held of highest importance in Zuko’s books.

“Well?” Zuko demands, arms crossed and fingers drumming against his forearms impatiently.

Jin, who is sitting on her knees on her bed, glances up from where she’s braiding tiny twin buns into Izumi’s hair and frowns at Zuko. “That’s it?”

Izumi sits patiently in Jin’s lap with a stuffed turtleduck clutched in one hand - one of many presents from last week’s ‘Izumi-has-officially-been-my-daughter-for-a-month now-and-I-want-to-show-everyone-how-amazing-she-is’ celebration.

(Jin had told him to find a shorter title, but he thought anything less would do a disservice to the marvel of it all.)

“Yaya!” Izumi squeals and waves her plushie around as though it were a flag at a parade.

"Thank you, baby," Zuko says as he rubs his forehead, already regretting the many hours spent on ‘positive reinforcement’ for his daughter.

(Also known as: whenever something good happens, Zuko overenthusiastically cheers ‘yay!’ and Izumi gleefully follows along.

In his defense, it had started off with ideal results and Zuko can now proudly say his daughter will, in fact, eat her mashed vegetables without tossing the bowl on the floor.

Though, in hindsight, he now has to deal with Izumi unjustifiably cheering in situations that don’t merit such a response.

It’s his fault, really. He’ll have to educate his daughter on the importance of social skills eventually (though he’s not one to talk, seeing as he never got the chance to practice his own social skills).

But for now, it’s ‘yaya!’ to Zuko’s poorly written speech, ‘yaya!’ to the guard who had been dragged out of the palace after being exposed as a traitor, and ‘yaya!’ when Uncle Iroh accidentally broke a vintage vase after trying to demonstrate ancient dragon forms to Izumi.)

Zuko deflates at their lackluster responses, shoulders sagging.

“Forget it,” he snaps, and all but stomps over to Jin’s bed so he can flop down on the fluffy mattress behind her. "I’m not going to the meeting.” he says sullenly and closes his eyes, ready to sleep the rest of the day away and pretend this meeting was never supposed to happen.

“Waa waa, you big baby,” is Jin’s ridiculing retort. Zuko can practically hear her eye roll. “We both know you’re going to go, prepared or not.”

“Wa wa?” Izumi offers, relentlessly light and hopeful.

The mattress dips ever so slightly as she crawls her way over to him, plushie being smushed repeatedly with each advance forward. Zuko opens his good eye, and finds himself with a chestful of Izumi, eyes shining bright up at him.

“Wa wa?”

“No, baby,” Zuko exhales a tired puff and pulls Izumi onto his chest. “No wa wa.” He cuddles her close and allows her soothing aura to dispel his frustration.

“You can’t invite the Avatar and his friends to the Fire Nation for a meeting and then not see them,” Jin reasons as Izumi repeats ‘wa wa’ over and over again. “And what’s ‘wa wa’?”

Zuko lightly swats away the stuffed turtleduck shoved in his face, cheeks burning as he sits up.

“Nothing,” he lies. “And I can ignore the Avatar if I want to. What’s he going to do, fight me?”

Jin shoots him a knowing look.

“I mean he could, but he won’t! Avatar Aang is a well-known pacifist.” Zuko argues, then frowns thinking of his fight during Sozin's Comet. “Or at least he is most of the time.”

“Yeah,” Jin agrees. “When he’s not fighting Firelords.”

“Just the bad ones!” He sulks again and looks down at his daughter for a distraction.

Jin has topped off the buns artfully placed in Izumi’s hair with olive green ribbons to match the colour of her dress.

(Zuko had a plethora of formal outfits designed in Izumi’s name. For one, there was a severe lack of clothes that fit the infant, plus he also felt it almost disrespectful to not pay homage to the Earth side of his daughter.)

“Dah!”

Izumi grins at him and he can’t help but momentarily forget all his problems as he grins back at her. He flops back down on his back and lifts her above his head, heart swelling with affection when she lets out a high pitched shriek of joy.

“Who’s the cutest baby in the world?” he coos as she wriggles happily.

“Wa wa wa wa!”

“Did you remember to thank Jin for doing your hair?”

She gurgles incoherent words at him, and he takes it as no.

From beside them, watching the father-daughter duo with fondness, Jin lets out a quiet huff of amusement. Zuko turns to her in silent questioning.

“I can’t believe you’re the same Firelord I was afraid of over a month ago,” she explains, then lets out a bitter sounding laugh. “And now we’re...” She trails off.

“We’re - ?” Zuko says, craning his neck to avoid the plushie Izumi is dangling in his face.

“Friends,” she responds, and there’s something in the way she says it, and the way she’s regarding him with a strange affection in her eyes that Zuko can’t quite put his finger on.

He blinks at the look on her face. He’s about to ask her if there’s something wrong when a knock comes at the door.

“Your Highness?” a muffled voice asks from outside.

Zuko sends a questioning glance to Jin and she nods. “Come in.”

The door opens to reveal Takibi, and he bows once at Zuko and shifts to give Jin one too. Zuko furrows his brow at the gesture, and Jin appears just as baffled.

“Apologies for the intrusion, My Lord, but I thought it best to inform you of the Avatar and his friends’ arrival. They’re waiting for you in the throne room.”

“What?!” Zuko shoots up, eyes going wide. “We discussed an afternoon meeting in the letters!”

“I- I’m sorry, My Lord. But it is the afternoon,” Takibi says, his apology laced with regret.

Well, shit, Zuko thinks.

“Lost track of time?” Kazue asks, already waiting for him in front of the doors of the throne room.

“Needed to practice the speech,” Zuko explains as he transfers Izumi into her arms. He takes a deep steadying breath, clearing his mind.

Everything will be fine. The Avatar and his friends want peace, Zuko wants peace, there should be absolutely no reason for anything to go wrong.

And then Izumi bursts into horribly loud tears.

She leans over in Kazue’s grasp to seize the sleeve of Zuko’s robes in her tiny fists and tugs him before he has the chance to push the doors open. He hesitates and turns to her, aching to console her.

“I’ll take care of her,” Kazue assures him. “Go meet the Avatar.”

Zuko takes one second to ready himself before giving up and turning to his daughter.

“Shh, Baby. What’s the matter, hmm?” he coos as he wipes her tears.

“Dah,” Izumi whines, resembling a pitiful koalaotter baby as she tries to go to his arms.

“Oh, Izumi,” Zuko murmurs sadly, both at her sorrow, and also for his inability to focus on anything else when she’s in this state. He smiles apologetically at Kazue and takes his baby back. “I have to go to a meeting, baby.” She screeches loudly once again into his good ear and he winces.

“It’s only for an hour or two,” he murmurs and bounces her, but he knows it’s fruitless.

The absence of her presence in Zuko’s meetings is only a recent development (there’s only so many times he can tolerate his daughter on the receiving end of daggered glares from obnoxious officials) and Izumi hasn’t taken to the change very well.

The first time he went into the meeting room without her, she had watched him with a confused gurgle as he left her behind with Kazue. Since then, she’s gained an understanding of what it means when he stands before these doors.

“Might I suggest taking her to Miss Jin?” Takibi suggests when none of Zuko’s ministrations have any effect on Izumi.

“Why would I do that?” Zuko counters. Izumi pats his cheek when he turns away from her, demanding his attention.

He sighs and gives her his finger to hold onto.

“The entire palace knows, My Lord,” at Zuko’s confusion, Takibi carries on. “You spend time in her room, you have picnics in the gardens together, you braid her hair… I apologize if it was meant to be kept secret but–”

Takibi is cut off by a loud screech, courtesy of Izumi. With a perturbed glance towards the throne room, Zuko silently hopes the occupants inside can’t hear and jump to the conclusion of people suffering inside the Fire Nation palace.

Well, I’m already late, he thinks as he quickly tries to get Izumi far from the throne room, Kazue and Takibi at his heels.

“Honestly, Takibi,” he hears Kazue scold, slightly out of breath from following Zuko’s pace. She clicks her tongue.

“What?” Takibi whispers back.

“How daft can you be?” Is the only response Kazue dignifies him with.

Zuko decides to take her to the nursery, since it’s the best bet to calm Izumi down. She scarcely ever stays there; Zuko is much too anxious about her nightmares and the possibility of another attack to leave her alone at night, but he hopes the red, gold and green silks of the Fire Nation that decorate the room, and the copious amounts of toys strewn all over the carpeted floor will be enough to appease her.

And, hopefully, the allegations of a pacifistic Avatar Aang rings true.

Zuko bursts through the doors of the throne room trying to hold back his panting, but his flushed cheeks are likely a telltale sign of his hurry. His heart flutters rapidly as all the attention in the room turns to him and his state of disarray.

All three visitors sitting around the table examine him as he makes his way to the head of the table, and he examines them back. Judging by the dark expressions of the members in blue, he’s failed the first test.

The Avatar sits closest to the throne in his yellow robes, a wide grin on his face as he bows to Zuko with his fist pressed against the bottom of his palm.

He laughs at Zuko’s surprised reaction, and the latter feels a bit more at ease with the knowledge that he won’t be the second Firelord to face the wrath of the Avatar.

He can’t even be upset at the way the other male in the room, donning the colours of the Southern Water Tribe, gazes at Zuko with a less than impressed downturn of the lips.

If he were in their shoes, he would have refused the meeting altogether if they had been so late.

“Pardon my tardiness,” Zuko says as he stands before them, sweating under his skin as he feels the judgmental stares. “I had some pressing issues to deal with.” He smooths his hands over the front of his robes.

A servant rushes in to place clay cups of water in front of all them, before hastily retreating.

Lucky him, Zuko thinks as he finds himself on the other end of a glare.

“‘Pressing issues’?” The male Water Tribe member says, purposefully examining him from head-to-toe.

Zuko can’t really blame him for that either. The state Zuko is in is far from acceptable - his headpiece leans slightly out of place from where it rests in his topknot and his robes are wrinkled from where Izumi tried to cling onto him.

It doesn't take a genius to determine the Water Tribe male's perception of his 'pressing issues'.

“Alright!” Aang exclaims happily, ignoring the way sweat starts to roll down Zuko’s forehead. “Firelord Zuko, these are my friends, Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,” He gestures to the woman on his right hand side, a soft smile on his face.

The woman, despite the displeased purse of her lips, gives Zuko a short nod of acknowledgement.

“And Sokka, the newly appointed Southern Water Tribe Ambassador,” Aang smiles at the man sitting across from him. “He’ll be back in a month or two.” Zuko nods slowly at the recognition of the title, trying not to let his lips wobble as he smiles at the man who nods stiffly in return.

He remembers reading the proposal Aang sent about the potential of a prolonged visit from Southern Water Tribe Ambassador in order to assist Zuko in improving the relations between the two lands.

He remembers happily signing the approval just last week, no hesitation as he writes his name on the line - a four month long visit from said ambassador was more than welcome. They had even started making preparations for his arrival.

The contract has yet to be put into effect and the ambassador already has the impression that Zuko is a shallow leader who takes his time before his duties to go have sexual relations.

That’s just Zuko’s luck, isn’t it?

“Shall we begin?” Zuko asks and his voice cracks when he senses his robes clinging to his back.

They all nod in agreement, and he wills himself to believe it’s due to their excitement for the Peace Treaty and not to get over the tension of the room.

Unfortunately, for all of them, the meeting does nothing to quell said tension. Everything Jin had assured him wouldn’t go wrong goes utterly and dreadfully wrong.

The moment he begins, he’s immediately stopped at his first sentence by the Water Tribe woman – Katara, he believes her name is - who points out a flaw in his proposition so obvious, Zuko is embarrassed he didn’t catch it before.

He awkwardly retracts the statement and brings up the topic of Fire Nation education and the best ways to incorporate the subjects of the other elements.

He fumbles over each word, taking a sip of his water whenever there’s a pause, and it seems like each suggestion is thrown back at his face by one of the Water Tribe members. Avatar Aang attempts to play mediator– trying to explain Zuko’s perspective while also trying to show Zuko why some of his ideas could come across as a second invasion on the Fire Nation’s part.

They’re barely twenty minutes in when Zuko sets down his cup with a grimace and suggests they reconvene for a future date, after he rethinks some of his proposals and solidifies them.

The Water Tribe members more than happily agree, walking side by side as they mutter to each other in low voices. Zuko feels their eyes burn the back of his skull as they glance back at him.

The Avatar passes by, flashing Zuko a sympathetic smile.

“See you next time, Hotman,” he says, shaking hands with Zuko once more before he meets the duo near the exit.

The meeting room doors slam shut after the trio, the sound bouncing off the walls of the large space and mocking Zuko.

Only then, when he hears their voices slowly fade away, does Zuko groan as he falls back onto the throne, placing his elbows on the table and his head on his hands.

Agni, what a disaster.

“Alright, My Lord?” Ueda, his gentle giant of a guard, politely questions from where he stands beside a pillar, as though he didn’t witness the entire nightmare or the way Zuko is currently praying for the Spirits to take him away.

“Ueda,” Zuko begins, his voice muffled from where he’s speaking behind his palms, “be truthful with me.” He purses his lips, “That was terrible, wasn’t it?”

When Ueda hesitates in responding, Zuko lifts his head up to raise a brow at him.

Ueda sighs dejectedly, shaking his head. “It was awful, My Lord.”

Zuko lets out another long suffering groan and rubs at his temples with his pointer fingers.

What he needs right now is a nice, long bubble bath with warm water to wash all his problems away and carry it down the drain. Perhaps Izumi needs one as well. Though, he’ll have to take the toy manatee whale out of the tub too, because he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with Izumi squirting the bath water in his face today.

(Unless taking the toy out will lead to her having a fit; he’d prefer facing water attacks every minute over an irritable baby.)

He allows himself a few private moments in the throne room to wallow in pity and curse the Spirits for finding enjoyment in making his life as difficult as possible.

Upon exiting the throne room, Kazue rushes over to him.

“Kazue,” Zuko greets and peers over the woman’s shoulder like Izumi will suddenly learn how to walk and come up to them. “Why aren’t you in the nursery?"

“Izumi was still upset after you were gone, so I was going to take the risk of interrupting your meeting,” Kazue explains. “But it seems you’re already finished?” She questions with a concerned look.

The shrug Zuko does is more than enough explanation for her, and the subject is dropped.

Well, at least there was something beneficial about bringing this meeting to a conclusion. Cranky government representatives plus crankier baby would probably equate to a breakdown on his part.

Though Zuko is still trying to familiarize the different etiquettes between each nation, he’s pretty sure the Firelord erupting into sobs in front of his respected audience is a taboo by somebody’s standards.

“Where is she?” he asks, more than prepared to whisk his daughter away and vent to the turtleducks.

“Don’t worry,” Kazue grins. “I left her in good hands.” She nods her head to somewhere around the corner of the hall and Zuko goes.

He’s close to rounding the corner when he hears a sunny, animated voice echo down the corridor.

“-ute dress, Princess!” someone exclaims. It’s such a familiar voice, almost like it belongs to...

As he approaches, his suspicions are confirmed when he sees Southern Water Tribe Ambassador Sokka kneeling in front of Izumi sitting on the ground with a giant, toothy grin. It’s a vast difference from man’s persona in the throne room. Izumi peers at the man from where she’s hiding her face behind her stuffed turtleduck.

Zuko’s mouth falls open in the most undignified manner as he tries to wrap his head around the sight. Not only does it feel as though he’s seeing a new side of the Ambassador, but of Izumi as well.

So used to his daughter being a bubbly little spirit, Zuko is taken aback at her sudden shyness. Usually, she would be babbling at the speed of an eaglehawk by now, ecstatic someone is paying full attention to her.

Zuko listens to the one-sided conversation for a while, entranced at how the other man speaks to Izumi happily and compliments her on her colour-coordinating outfit, as if she was a close friend of his and not a seven month old child with little to no comprehension of his words.

“I knew you would agree, Princess!” Ambassador Sokka declares when Izumi flashes her gums at him.

If Zuko thinks hard enough (which he absolutely does not do as there’s no purpose for him to despite how his heart hums at the thought of it) the whole encounter is nearly… charming?

Footsteps come from behind him, and Kazue joins him at his side. She, too, seems enchanted.

“He’s cute,” Kazue comments, smirking as the Ambassador shows off the beads braided into the two strands of hair on either side of his face to a drooling Izumi, who opens her mouth widely at the tiny, blue orbs, reaching out and ready to chew on them.

Zuko almost agrees with her statement– keyword being ‘almost’– but stops himself at the last second because government officials aren’t supposed to be cute, especially not ones who more than likely hate Zuko’s guts for playing early morning hooky.

His nose crinkles in disgust. “Not to be rude, Kazue, but you’re the same age as Uncle. I don’t think it’ll work out.”

“Not for me, Your Highness,” she says fondly with a roll of her eyes. “Now, go get your daughter back before she gets re-adopted.”

Zuko nods as the elder woman leaves, and approaches the pair.

“Hey, baby,” Zuko coos with a warmth reserved exclusively for his daughter, the corners of his lips rising when she perks up at the sound of his voice.

Ambassador Sokka’s head snaps up and his face reddens as he comes to a stand.

“Um, what?” his eyes widen when he notices Zuko’s open arms heading in his direction. He holds his hands up in defense, backing away when Zuko gets closer. “Woah, dude, I think you’ve got the wrong impression.”

Zuko walks straight past him to scoop Izumi into his arms, pressing a kiss to the cheek of his giggling baby.

“Why did you give Kazue a hard time, hmm?” he asks and gives her another kiss for good measure, this time on the top of her head.

Izumi gurgles and grabs at his nose.

“Oh.” The Water Tribe member shifts from foot to foot. “You know Princess, too?”

Zuko snorts. “Of course I know the Fire Nation Princess. This is Izumi,” he says, slightly lifting Izumi up so the other man can get a better look at her, “my daughter.”

She babbles at his declaration as if to confirm what he’s saying is true. The other man darts between the two of them with wide eyes, unmistakably taking a second glance at Izumi’s green eyes versus the gold of Zuko’s. He does this for a while, until Zuko sees him make the connection in his head, and his mouth falls open in an ‘o’.

Zuko is grateful the man doesn’t react the same way most do when they make the discovery; usually the reveal follows with an ‘is she really yours?’, as though Izumi being adopted makes her any less of his daughter.

“Your daugh- wow, okay. Suddenly, your ‘pressing issues’ make more sense.” Ambassador Sokka lets out a puff of air, muttering something else inaudibly before facing Izumi. “And you! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were an actual princess. I’m hurt, Your Highness.”

The man holds a hand over his heart with a slight pout on his lips, and– oh, Spirits, he’s just trying to make Izumi laugh; Zuko shouldn’t be finding him this attractive after he practically tried to burn Zuko with his gaze alone in the meeting earlier.

“Anyways, it’s an honour to make your acquaintance, Princess Izumi,” the Water Tribe Representative jokes with an over-exaggerated bow, and takes it one step further by going to shake her tiny hand.

In doing so, however, his hand brushes against a sliver of Zuko’s wrist where the cuffs of his robes end.

And then the rooftops of the palace open up and Agni himself plucks Zuko from the halls like a cherry and flings him into the deepest depths of the sun.

Or, at least, that’s what it feels like.

The simple touch shouldn’t make Zuko snap to attention. But it does. A pleasant shiver runs up his spine. The small spot of skin feels like a spark that sets the rest of his body on fire and, engulfed by the flames, Zuko flushes a deep red. And he’s grateful Ambassador Sokka isn’t paying attention to him.

“My name is Sokka. Pronounced with an ‘Okka’,” Ambassador Sokka winks, shaking Izumi’s hand that isn’t clutching the stuffed turtleduck. “Just for future reference when you grow tired of holding back your opinions and start talking.”

It’s not even close to being remotely funny.

So, why in Agni’s name does the poor attempt of a joke cause a noise akin to a chuckle arise out of Zuko’s mouth, and why– by Tui and La– do Ambassador Sokka’s eyes twinkle at the sound as though he’s discovered something about Zuko no one else has?

“I must admit, you having a daughter from the Earth Kingdom isn’t what I expected. Not to mention the staff. ” Ambassador Sokka starts to say, nodding at the workers in shades of emerald who pass by them with small smiles. “But the Firelord knowing how to laugh? That really takes the cake,” the Ambassador teases, no trace of his annoyance from earlier in the afternoon.

Zuko wanted to give the staff from the Earth Kingdom the freedom to wear the colours they choose, so long as all the uniforms were by the same design. He’s about to explain the methods of him trying to incorporate other cultures in the palace to the Ambassador when he stops himself.

Oh. That was meant to be another joke.

It’s not funny.

It really isn’t.

“Haha! Ha,” Zuko laughs awkwardly, and Izumi coos up at him the same way she does when she thinks he’s in pain. “It’s– you’re, you know. Funny.” He says when the other man just blinks at his reaction.

Thankfully, the other doesn’t press on the matter.

“Thanks! I know,” Ambassador Sokka humbly accepts the compliment instead of questioning Zuko’s sanity. “So, Princess, do you plan on staying for the rest of the meeting?”

“Bah!” Izumi exclaims, punctuated by a flap of her hand.

Zuko tilted his head quizzically, “Rest of the meeting…?”

“We’re leaving after dinner time. I’m not sure when we’ll be able to have another meeting like this, and I know how important this treaty is to Aang. And, I think I’m beginning to understand what it means to you, as well,” Ambassador Sokka tries to shrug nonchalantly, but he doesn’t quite meet Zuko’s gaze. “Plus, it seems like the Princess has plenty of things to say.”

“Bwah dah!” is her response.

“So eloquent,” Sokka coos.

Zuko’s mouth falls open at his sudden change of heart.

“Oh. Yes. Yes, that would be wonderful. I would love that. Thank you so much, Ambassador Sokka.” he shakes the other man's hand as best as he can with a baby in his arms and grins up into the other’s eyes.

There’s a brief moment where the two of them just stand there, shaking hands in the middle of the hallway as blue eyes meet gold. Then, Izumi whines, and the silence is broken.

“It’s no problem, Firelord Zuko,” Ambassador Sokka says in a softer tone.

In the back of his mind, Zuko wonders if it’s just his imagination, or if there truly is the slightest tinge of pink on the Ambassador’s face. Before he can get a closer look, the man turns on his heel and makes his way down the corridor.

“Just wait in the meeting room. I’ll fetch my sister and Aang,” he calls over his shoulder casually, as though he didn’t just flip Zuko’s entire stomach upside just by saying his name.

Zuko watches him go, his heart beating for reasons he doesn’t want to admit.

“Oh, Izumi,” he whispers, “please tell me I’m not acting foolish around the Ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe."

His daughter shoves her stuffed turtleduck in his face and exclaims, “Wah wah!”

To the glee of Ambassador Sokka, Izumi does, as a matter of fact, stay for the rest of the meeting.

The man practically squeals as soon as he notices Izumi sitting on Firelord’s throne and makes quick work of introducing her to a surprised Aang and Katara as, ‘Her Royal Highness of the Fire Nation, Princess Izumi,’ with a flourish.

They’re enamoured right away.

The meeting goes exceptionally well, and if there is any lingering tension from the first discussion they quickly dissipate while Izumi spends the rest of the meeting charming each member as she crawls back and forth across the table to each person, more than content to soak up all the attention in the room.

As his daughter chews on Avatar Aang’s medallion (which he gladly presses into her waiting hands), they discuss everything from future education plans, to festivals, even going so far as discussing what Zuko imagines the Fire Nation could become once Izumi takes her place on the throne.

The meeting finishes with everyone in the room smiling. Though four years isn’t enough time to undo what the war has done, Zuko hopes this discussion will be a start to something greater.

“Yaya!” Izumi gurgles at the centre of the table when they all stand, and they all laugh with her as they leave.

Master Katara even apologizes on her way out for the awkwardness of the first meeting (though Zuko is quick to correct her and says misunderstandings were most likely the root of their previous problems).

Zuko credits the success of the meeting to Izumi.

The last few hours of daylight are still high in the sky, so Zuko makes a request to the chefs for a picnic dinner prepared and brought to the gardens.

When all is set and Zuko feeds Izumi spoonfuls of rice pudding, the turtleducks leave their safe zone in their pond and waddle their way over the grass to Zuko and Izumi’s picnic blanket and ransack their food. Thankfully, he had foreseen this and had asked for extra food be added into their basket.

In all honesty, their behavior is largely due to Zuko being unable to deny them a few bites whenever he decides to take his meals near the pond.

But it leaves them with a better opportunity to pet the turtleducks, so it’s surely a win-win situation for all of them.

“Wah wah!” Izumi cheers as the tiny creatures pass by her, some of them waddling in curious circles around her.

As they explore the open picnic basket one of the smaller turtleducks squawks at its sibling, its feathers bristling as it pecks at its poor sibling trying to take a small piece of fruit tart.

“Tsk. Stop that,” Zuko scolds and picks up the turtleduck with both hands.

The turtleduck chirps at him angrily and Zuko rolls his eyes, unphased by the attitude. When he gets close enough to the creature, however, it makes an upset noise and flies right on top of his head and starts pulling at the strands of hair with its beak. He reaches up to grab it and it nips at his fingers.

“Are you done there, mister?” He asks the rebellious turtleduck, rolling his eyes up to catch a glimpse of it. He shakes his head lightly, but it doesn’t leave its little nest of Zuko hair.

“Wa wa?” Izumi questions when she notices the duck disrespectfully quacking at him and ruining his topknot.

Zuko huffs at its defiance. “Fine. But I expect you to listen to your mother when she calls for you.”

“Wa wa?” Izumi tries again, so Zuko sighs and finally relents.

He already has a duck on his head, so why not? He leans down closer to the group of ducks, opens his mouth and -

“Firelord Zuko!” a voice calls from behind him and Zuko immediately snaps away from the turtleducks and turns around, attempting to look casual.

Ambassador Sokka waves at him as he practically runs to Zuko. He stops just in front of where they sit on the picnic blanket, brows raised in amusement.

“You’ve - uh, got something on your head.” Ambassador Sokka unhelpfully points out as the small turtleduck in Zuko’s hair quacks at him in greeting.

“I’m teaching him a lesson,” Zuko quickly clarifies, feeling the duck ruffle its feathers.

The Ambassador nods, “I can see. I’d hate to be on the other end of the Firelord’s terrifying punishments.”

“As you should be,” Zuko agrees. “Did you need something, Ambassador Sokka?”

“Oh, right,” the man says, startled, seemingly forgetting the reason himself. “I came here to apologize, actually.”

“There’s no need, for that, Ambassador,” Zuko hurriedly says, but the other man shakes his head.

“You can drop the ‘Ambassador part; ‘Sokka’ is fine,” he says, “and, I do, actually. You see…”

Ambassador Sokka launches into a lengthy story involving cabbages for a flying bison refusing to pick up its pace during the journey to the palace, an upset flying lemur suffering from jetlag and somehow manages to tie into his earlier behaviour, explaining that he shouldn’t have taken out his frustrations on Zuko.

“Sounds pretty rough, buddy.” is all he says when the Ambassador finishes his long, heartfelt apology. Truthfully, Zuko finds no need for anyone other than himself to apologize, and he tells Sokka as much with all the elegance of a baby turtleduck under the sincerity in the man’s eyes.

Ambassador Sokka (drop the ‘Ambassador’ part! A voice reminds him), not put off by Zuko’s stiffness, grins in response.

“Well, I should,” Sokka hikes a thumb over his shoulder, “get back to Aang and Katara. You’re lucky you don’t have to eat with them. They have this disgusting habit of getting oogie with each other, in front of my salad, too - “

“Sokka?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to join me and Izumi for dinner?” Because, though Zuko understood virtually none of what Sokka has said in the past few minutes, he knows a cry for help when he sees one.

Sokka absolutely beams even brighter than Zuko thought was humanly possible and doesn’t hesitate to plop down on the grass beside him with a, “You’re a lifesaver!” when Zuko hands him a fruit tart and a fork.

Soon after, the mother turtleduck climbs into Zuko’s lap and starts to argue with her child who bickers with her from his royal perch on the Firelord’s head. Izumi cries ‘wa wa’ again and shakes her turtleduck aggressively when Zuko doesn’t immediately give in to her demands.

Zuko’s cheek burns when Sokka watches curiously, fork in his mouth, because there's no way out of it; the Mommy duck is in her father’s lap, and Izumi’s so excited to see her because that’s her favourite duck, and she frantically says ‘wa wa’ and looks at Zuko expectantly.

He can’t very well ask Sokka to leave and face these alleged ‘oogies’, especially after he’s asked him to join them for dinner, and when has he ever been able to deny his daughter anything?

He glances at Sokka from the corner of his eye and through clenched teeth says, “Don’t. Laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?” The man questions, just as Zuko leans down to stare level at the Mommy duck and says the two words Izumi’s been waiting to hear.

“Quack. Quack.”

Izumi reacts immediately, breaking out in gleeful babbles, cheering, “Wa wa!” as she shakes her stuffed turtleduck.

Sokka starts laughing as well, shoulders shaking wildly, and Zuko glares at him. “I ordered you not to laugh!”

“My apologies, Duckie Lord. I had no idea this was such an important matter.” He snickers behind his fork.

“It’s important to engage with the citizens of the Fire Nation, no matter what they are,” Zuko says, sulking.

“Mhm. I can tell.”

Then, the mother turtleduck, seemingly tired of scolding her stubborn child, flies out of Zuko’s lap and straight into Sokka’s.

“Hello, there,” Sokka greets the mother with a grin, and she honks at him.

“Wah wah!” Izumi yells enthusiastically.

“Well,” Sokka winks at Zuko, “I can’t turn down the request of a Princess.”

And then he quacks at the duck with much less hesitation than Zuko, unafraid of being called out for his foolishness.

“See, Firelord Zuko. That’s how you speak turtleduck,” Sokka brags and continues his conversation to the turtleduck, reminiscent of how he had spoken to Izumi in the hallway.

And, Spirits, who knew the Ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe dressed in formal robes quacking at turtleducks while his daughter cackles throatily could be both tremendously ridiculous and heartwarming?

When Zuko lets out his own huff of laughter, the Ambassador glances up at him and has the audacity to wink, leaving Zuko no choice but to sulk as he feels the familiar sensation of a blush rising to his cheeks.

It’s the second or third time this day, but Ambassador Sokka is both handsome and good with kids; how is that even remotely fair for Zuko’s poor heart?

They spend the rest of dinner taking turns to impress Izumi with their impressions of the turtleduck between bites of food, their imitations growing bolder and more ridiculous with each take. Each boisterous ‘quack’ results in a throaty squeal of laughter from Izumi, and Zuko forgets why he was embarrassed of being exposed in the first place.

By the time the sun has fully set and Sokka regretfully informs Zuko that he must go meet his friends, the picnic basket is completely empty, Izumi has giggled herself to exhaustion, and Zuko and Sokka share twin smiles, both of them glowing from the aftermath of the nonsensical competition.

Kazue joins in the send-off of Avatar Aang, Master Katara, and Ambassador Sokka, apparently having had a pleasant discussion of the varying healing techniques used between the Fire Nation and the Southern Water Tribe after she had run into them during dinnertime.

To Zuko’s surprise, Sokka gives him a parting hug with enough care so as not to rouse the sleeping infant in his embrace, but enough that Zuko still feels the ghost of touch longer after he has climbed into the saddle of the back of a flying bison.

“Supposedly, Ambassador Sokka thinks you’re very handsome.” Kazue says. “Master Katara told me herself.”

“Huh?” Zuko says dumbly. He turns to face Kazue and finds the woman looking at him with a smug smirk. She sends a secretive glance at the flying figures of the Avatar and his friends, and then back to Zuko.

Zuko isn’t given the chance to counter back at her, because one of the guards chooses to snort in indignation.

“Get a grip, Haga,” the guard grunts, “The Firelord shouldn’t be bothered with a sodomite.”

Just like that, the joyous atmosphere around them vanishes, as though it had followed the Avatar when the man had left. Zuko feels the bliss of dinner settle in his stomach unpleasantly, the sweetness of the tarts and rice pudding turning to solid bricks of trepidation.

‘Sodomite,’ the guard had said.

It wasn’t directed at him, but it might as well have been.

Kazue lets out a gasp of anger, and his Zuko’s first instinct is to look down at his sleeping daughter and make sure she hasn't overheard.

It shouldn’t matter because Izumi wouldn’t understand even if she had overheard, but the last thing on Zuko’s mind is rationality. Logic holds no importance if it means exposing his daughter to a problem she has no control over.

Kazue and the guard begin to argue loudly, their shouts resonating throughout the hallway. He breathes slowly, following the slumbering inhales and exhales of Izumi.

She coos peacefully, and Zuko’s grateful she had fallen asleep back in the lightheartedness of the gardens.

“Zuko?” Kazue asks softly. She gently holds onto his elbow and he shakes her off.

“I should take her to bed,” Zuko mumbles and rushes away without so much as a glance to Kazue.

Zuko presses one side of Izumi’s head against the crook of his neck and reaches across with his other his other hand to cover her other side, leaving both of her ears covered in case someone else chooses to spew another hateful remark.

He doesn’t remember the walk to the nursery, too fearful that other staff members have gotten word of his time with Ambassador Sokka, of their stupid turtleduck imitations, and of the moments Zuko had let his fingers brush against Ambassador Sokka’s shoulder in a manner teetering dangerously between the lines of professional and casual.

Zuko lays Izumi down in the nursery cradle and smoothes down the stray hairs in front of her face.

When he’s sure that she’s settled, he slides down to the carpet, his back against the bars and sucks in sharp breath as he feels his eyes stinging.

He doesn’t cry.

He’s never seen a father cry. Because fathers don’t cry.

Fathers have always been something unattainable to Zuko, and he is constantly faced with the fact that he’s struggling to be an image of something he can’t fathom. Of someone he wants to be for his daughter, but can never be no matter how hard he tries.

“I love you, Izumi,” Zuko murmurs shakily, serving both as an affirmation and an apology.

Chapter Text

A truth Zuko doesn’t allow to make a known fact, is that his greatest weakness is - and perhaps always will be - his family.

After countless hours training himself not to let his vulnerability get the best of him, this unfortunate flaw is easy to hide in plain sight. If one looked close enough, however, one would be able to detect it in his hands.

The mention of his father leads to a tingling in his palms - the incessant and hard-to-scratch itch to shield his face from the flames which never seem to extinguish.

At the slightest memory of his mother, his fingers twitch and flex, trying to hold onto something, anything. His fingers start to curl by their own accord as they search for his mother’s shoulders and beg her to stay a little while longer.

And Azula.

He doesn’t particularly want to reminisce on the way his nails prickle with pins and needles whenever he passes by her former room, as the horrible thoughts of clawing to her wrist in a feeble attempt to pull her away from Ozai sink into his head.

When it comes to Izumi, the evidence of his weakness is everywhere.

One of Zuko’s hands quiver instinctively against the top of the crib board as he stares down at Izumi. She makes tiny dressed noises and shivers in her sleep. His other hand is reaching down beside her, her hand wrapped around his pointer finger. He had hoped that his touch alone was enough to comfort her, but to no avail.

The urge to do more is overwhelming, but he’s already covered her as best as he can with blankets. and when he wonders what else he can do, he ultimately realizes that he doesn’t know how.

Everything he learned this past month with her had vanished, like he’s never spent a day in his life as her father.

And that terrifies him.

To Zuko’s dismay, her crying builds and builds until she cries herself awake before he can figure out where to begin in making her stop.

Pick her up. You know this.

His fingers curl protectively around her, keeping her steady as he takes her out of the cradle. He starts to bounce her gently in his arms, his palm a firm presence on her back to prevent an accidental fall backwards.

His thumb hesitantly wipes away her tears. He fears if he presses too hard, they won’t ever stop flowing down her cheeks.

“Shh, baby,” Zuko murmurs, his heart pounding rapidly as Izumi wails. “It’s okay, Izumi. Daddy’s here.”

He paces around the nursery, softly mumbling what he hopes are comforting words. He goes so far as to sing the cradle songs he faintly remembers his mother singing to him.

He knows she’s prone to nightmares, it was a common trait Zuko wished they didn’t share, but she’s never been this inconsolable.

At some point, he hands her her stuffed turtleduck from the crib, but she only holds its beak for a few seconds in her fist before letting it drop to the carpet. It's only filled with the lightest feathers of a toucan puffin, but Zuko feels it fall as it’s the thunder that brings on a downpour of Izumi’s tears.

“Stop crying, please,” he begs, his hand cradling the back of her head as she sobs into his shoulder. “What’s wrong, baby? What do you need?”

She lets out a muffled wail, a horrible, throaty scream like she were in pain. A pressure grows around Zuko’s neck as if being choked; punishment for being an absolute failure of a parent.

A knock at the door. “Everything alright, My Lord?”

“Fine,” he growls. Then, overcome with guilt for baselessly lashing out, he follows up with a meek, “thank you.”

Zuko sinks down to the carpeted floor, his back against the crib. He sets Izumi on his lap, hands on either side of her chubby cheeks and asks, “What’s wrong? Hmm?”

‘Pathetic,’ an eerily familiar voice hisses. ‘Have you learned nothing?’

Zuko continuously dries Izumi’s tears, but they keep coming back as if they were never wiped away in the first place.

What kind of father can’t calm down his own child?

‘You know exactly what kind. You think you’re an exception?’ He scoffs.

“Please,” Zuko chokes out in one final desperate attempt. “Please stop crying, Izumi. I don’t - I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry.” With that, he gives in to the pressing heat behind his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes brokenly, “I’m so sorry. I love you so much, Izumi.”

He hugs her close, and though her cries nearly deafen him, he doesn’t let her go as they cry together on the floor of the nursery.

It’s similar to the first week, when an assassin had snuck into their room and the world around Zuko was on the verge of collapsing as Izumi clutched onto him with her tiny fingers and all the trust she could give him.

And, like that first week, he can’t help but be made aware yet again that she deserves so much more than he can give her.

It’s as the air in the room is retreating, and when Izumi’s cries turn to sad hiccups and coughs, the suffocating atmosphere only enhances.

Needing to breathe, Zuko hastily makes his way into the hallways with Izumi where they can both catch a breath.

Soon, the whispers of ‘what happened?’ and ‘is the child injured?’ are all he can hear, and Zuko is forced to remember that they are not the only two in the palace. It’s unclear who he ‘d prefer to disappear; the staff with their poorly concealed attempts to glance at them as they pass by, or he himself, for everyone else’s sake.

The staff continue to murmur their worries. Terrified of the possibilities they might jeer at him, he walks down the hallway aimlessly.

He can’t go back to his room, either. No, he needs to go to a place where the whispers won’t chase him.

His guards follow after him, their stares causing the hairs at the back of his neck to stand on end. He stares straight ahead as he goes, determined to not let anyone see him in a state of vulnerability. Izumi blinks up at him, eyelids drooping and her head on his chest.

“Eh,” she gurgles sleepily.

“We’ll find somewhere to sleep. Only for tonight,” he promises.

Perhaps his study would suffice.

“Firelord Zuko!” A servant calls out from down the hall and waves around a letter. Izumi jolts at the noise, and Zuko rubs her back consolingly.

“What?” Zuko snaps, causing the unfortunate man to flinch back.

Oh, Agni. He can’t do anything right, can he?

There’s a physical pang in Zuko’s chest at the fear in the man’s posture. He’s been trying to rid his people of the fears his father had left behind, and now look at him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Lord Zuko. But we received a letter from a hawk not too long ago. I was instructed to hand it to you immediately.” The servant holds out the envelope and bows when their gazes meet.

“Take it to be sorted, please,” Zuko dismisses.

“My Lord, the seal is from Avatar Aang,” he explains quickly before Zuko can leave.

Zuko takes it at that, because no one in their right mind denies a message from the Avatar when he takes the time to send you one.

He rips it open as best as he can with a half asleep Izumi in one arm. Right after being unfolded, Zuko is met with messily scrawled penmanship. It bears no resemblance to Avatar Aang’s writing in his previous letters, and he fails to understand why until he spots the name signed at the bottom.

Apologies for the writing; I’m on the back of a flying bison and there's an angry winged lemur trying to steal my brush from me.

Sincerely,

Ambassador Sokka :)

The name makes his stomach plummet heavily.

The servant curiously peers over to read the contents of the letter, most likely wondering what was written that could elicit the horrified look on Zuko’s face. Zuko crumples it in his fist and mutters a stiff ‘thank you’ as he shoves it in his pocket and strides away.

He hasn’t a single clue of the destination until he stops in front of Jin’s chambers. Before he has enough awareness to recognize he’s making a bad choice, he knocks on her door.

It opens marginally after the first rap, and a barely awake Jin frowns at him through the crack.

“Zuko?”

Judging by the way she asks, he’s just woken her up.

“Sorry,” he utters, feeling an absolute imbecile standing at her doorway, frozen in place.

“It’s fine,” she replies with a small shrug. “What’s wrong?”

‘Always a nuisance to others,’ his father growls.

“Nothing,” Zuko lies in a clipped tone.

Jin responds by holding the door open wider and grabbing his free hand, tugging him lightly inside. “Why don’t you let Izumi sleep on the bed and we can talk about ‘nothing’?”

Still believing he’s intruding, Zuko cautiously sets Izumi on Jin’s bed. Jin sighs and she walks over to her dresser, rummaging through its cabinets until she pulls out a fine tooth comb and several hair ties.

By the time Zuko has Izumi safely tucked under the covers, Jin is holding the comb out to Zuko with a calculated smile.

“Do my hair?” She asks.

Zuko blinks down at the offer, before feeling grateful for the distraction.

He swallows and nods, toeing off his boots before sitting cross legged behind Jin, who sets herself on the edge of the bed.

This isn’t the first time he’s combed her hair. Jin often talks him through various types of braids when she does Izumi’s hair. He doesn’t want to take the risk of pulling Izumi’s hair too hard, especially since he isn’t too confident in his braiding skills.

Zuko’s fingers shake as he combs. After one particularly rough stoke, Jin snaps her head back with a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry,” Zuko apologizes for the dozenth time that night. He sets the comb on the bed, not wanting to hurt her further.

“It happens,” Jin reassures. “How do you feel about Shuangya Ji? I’ll help you through it.”

“Sure,” he agrees absent-mindedly, delicately taking hold of her hair.

She nods. “Part the hair in the middle, first,” she begins. He follows her instructions unsteadily yet attentive, making sure he’s not being too rough. “Tie both into side tails about mid-height.”

“So…” Jin says awkwardly. “How are you? I heard from Takibi earlier, but -”

“What’s next?” Zuko interrupts.

“... Right.”

Jin pauses to loosen strands of hair from the tie, framing either side of her face. Zuko leans a bit away from her, checking to see if he’s made the sides equal.

‘Why is it,’ his father spits. ‘That you can never measure up to your sister?’

One of the sides falls a little lower than the other. Zuko makes quick work of fixing it.

“Now, all you need to do is two simple braids.”

‘Can’t you follow the simplest of instructions?‘

“Zuko?” Jin questions when Zuko doesn’t move.

He wants to move, but it’s as something or someone is holding his wrists down, preventing him from doing so.

‘Listen to me, boy. I will not have an embarrassment ruin this family.’

“Do you need me to slow down?”

‘You’re behind on your lessons, I hear. Too distracted by the cook’s son? Is that your problem?’

“Zuko?”

‘I’ll see if Ukano can bring Mai more often. She appears to be very fond of you.’

There's a flurry of movement in front of him.

Zuko’s eyes automatically shut as Jin’s hands cup his face. “Please don’t kiss me,” Zuko begs in a whisper.

He feels her freeze. One moment passes. Then another. And then - “You think- but? Why on Earth would I kiss you?” Jin asks, scandalized.

“I don’t know,” He whispers, bordering on a painful rasp. “I don’t know. Just please. Don’t.”

Zuko's eyes shoot open right as Jin pulls her hands away.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I would do that,” she apologizes so sincerely that Zuko scrambles to take her hand back.

"No, it’s - I..." he starts, but fails to take control of his breathing.

It's not your fault, it's mine, he wants to say.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't..." He takes in larger gasps of air, but it’s as though the oxygen never makes it to his lungs. Tears sting his eyes, and he has to squeeze them shut as they start to burn. "I-I don't know what's wrong with me.”

“Breathe with me, Zuko. Can you do that for me?”

Jin takes an exaggeratedly loud inhale and encourages Zuko to copy her, but when he tries, it’s as though his lungs are being compressed. He clenches at his robes over his chest, right above his heart. A darkness creeps into the edges of his vision.

“I- I can’t -” Zuko gasps and panics. He shakes his head furiously as his heart drums.

There’s been many instances in his life where he thought he was about to die - when he was burned, when he and his uncle had been called out as firebenders in Ba Sing Se, and countless others. This feels like one of those moments, and the impending doom once again makes itself known.

“Zuko, listen to me,” he thinks Jin says. “Listen to what I’m saying.”

He wants to listen to her, but just as many other things he’s tried to do, he fails. He suspects that if his throat wasn’t so closed up, he would feel the bile rise.

“Ueuda!... Zuko.... firm… zue!”

The last thing he sees before he blacks out is Ueda taking a step into the room, panic-stricken.

Zuko slowly blinks when he first opens his eyelids. The infirmary ceiling behind a blurry figure comes into view as his vision clears. He shifts a little and feels the familiar soft wool sheets of the infirmary beds under his fingertips. The figure turns into Kazue, who looms over him, concern and sympathy etched in her eyes.

“Wha -” Zuko says, then breaks into a coughing fit and sits up. “Izumi?” He manages to ask between coughs.

Kazue reaches to a small little table beside the bed and hands him a wooden cup filled to the brim with water.

“Izumi’s with Jin right now. Do you know where you are?” Kazue asks and Zuko nods. “Drink the water,” she orders when she notices Zuko awkwardly nursing the cup in his lap.

He nods again and downs the water. The dry burning in his esophagus soothes as a cooling sensation caresses his throat. Kazue hums her approval as he does so and takes the cup back when he’s done, setting it back on the table.

“Do you remember what happened?” She asks carefully, as though any loud words will break the glass of Zuko’s fragile state.

He shakes his head one more time and rubs his good eye, only to stare back at his palm curiously when he feels a wetness against his skin.

When did he start crying?

“You were in Jin’s room and Ueda brought you here,” Kazue explains softly. “Do you remember why?”

He does, but he shrugs anyways, incapable of doing much else.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No,” he rasps.

He stares intently anywhere but Kazue, where he knows he’ll see nothing but unwanted pity. He searches for a change of topic, darting from the cuff of his sleeve, to Kazue’s workstation pressed up against the wall on the other side, to Kazue herself.

He pointedly does not look at her face.

One of Kazue’s hands is wrapped with bandages, he notices; a dark red stain seeping through the cloth where her knuckles are covered.

“Looks painful,” he comments with a nod to her hand, purposely letting the question exude into his tone.

Kazue’s hand stirs back slightly as though she has the instinct to hide it, but she stops and looks at him with an expectant purse of the lips. He raises a brow at her, like she’s suddenly become the stubborn patient and he’s the nurse.

“What happened to your hand?” He questions.

“An injury.” Her answer is every bit well-prepared and dismissive as he anticipates.

It appears Zuko isn’t the only one unwilling to share.

“Well, if there's nothing more to say, I should get going now,” he states.

The look of disbelief on Kazue’s face would be laughable if it didn’t make him feel as a child being scolded by his parent.

“Absolutely not.” She glares him back into the infirmary bed when he places his feet on the ground.

“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” he grits out.

It’s Kazue’s turn to raise her brow this time. “I’m aware. I’ve never thought otherwise.”

“Izumi - “

“Will be fine for one night.”

Zuko glares at her.

“Ten minutes,” Kazue says, arms crossed. “Enough time for you to steady yourself. And then you may leave.”

If it were anyone different, Zuko would’ve upped and left when he pleased. But this is Kazue; and they both know she is one of the few people capable of getting Zuko to listen when he’s hellbent on doing otherwise.

“Ten minutes. That’s all,” he reaffirms, slightly peeved.

Kazue nods her approval before moving over to her workstation, her back facing Zuko.

Zuko sighs and lies down. If he’s going to stay here for a little while longer, he might as well make himself as comfortable as possible.

He’s only listening to Kazue to appease her, nothing more. It has nothing to do with his apprehension of being alone, nor his undisclosed want of confessing troubles to a willing ear. Not at all.

Staring at the ceiling, Zuko taps his fingers against the inside of his wrist, counting down the minutes.