Zuko’s eyes opened every morning with the rising sun, and when the feel of Mai’s hand around his wrist sank through to his sleep clouded mind, he closed his eyes again. Face twisted, gut twisting, with furious resignation, Zuko squinted at her sleeping face, and at her fingers. She had been sleeping deeper since her belly had begun to swell. Maybe...
The doctors had been talking to her less about making him rest since her belly had begun to swell too. He’d done his job. The succession was safe.
Zuko knew they were just waiting for him to die, eager for the day his child would take the throne in his place. They didn’t want him to live any longer. He was the traitor, the conqueror, the usurper. He swallowed. Never had he ever thought his own people would see him that way. And if it had been the Earth Kingdom seeing their new Fire Nation rulers that way, it wouldn’t have mattered.
Though what would happen if she miscarried, or the baby died- Those things happened all the time. Zuko resisted the urge to touch Mai’s belly, to reassure himself that their child was still safe. Her hand felt so warm around his wrist. He rubbed her knuckles, and she mumbled in her sleep. Softly, slowly, he pressed down on her knuckles, and her fingers opened just slightly, enough for him to slip his hand out. Tiptoeing, he made his way around the bed to the window and glanced back Mai. Her knives and shuriken darts lay in their sheathes, next to the bed, and Zuko felt the welling up of the familiar sense of shame that Mai couldn’t wear them to bed anymore the way she always had. He spasmed in his sleep sometimes.
She was going to give him all kinds of grief when she woke up and he was already out of bed. The doctors never talked to him about resting, only Mai. They only... Mai didn’t stop trying to keep him alive just because his doctors had stopped caring. Mai still cared.
He grabbed the windowsill hard when he reached it and let out a quiet sigh. He was safe. Sometimes, he wondered if it would be better just to crawl, so he had less far to fall.
Zuko leaned against the wall in a patch of pinkish-orange sunrise light. Blinking the last of the sleep out of his eyes, he stretched his arms and grabbed his toes. The sunlight sank into his skin, muscles, and bones. Fire burst out of his fingers with the first punch, dying in the air. When the spasm hit, he shoved his elbow hard into the windowsill and held himself up on his feet until it passed. Legs trembling, he brought his hand up in front of himself, sparks cracking behind it. The kata came so easily, so smoothly, born of reflex instead of thought, the first one he had ever learned. It felt so good just to bend, to do something more than hold a fire in his hand to read with. It was like-
It was like nothing else. It didn’t matter that what he was fighting was part of him. He was used to that. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t fight the people he really wanted to burn. He was used to that too.
He watched the last of the flames shrivel up and disappear over the empty floor. His heart hammered in his chest, and he didn’t know if it was the longing or the lightning his sister had used. With one last look at where the fires had been, he grimaced and and swung a dressing gown around his shoulders before padding out the door and down the hall to his office.
There was an education reform law he was in the middle of drafting. If the doctors were right, he didn’t have much time. He had better make the most of it.
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branchandroot
Continuation: Azula’s lightning strike on Zuko has something far more serious consequences
Date: 2010-10-10 07:00 pm (UTC)The doctors had been talking to her less about making him rest since her belly had begun to swell too. He’d done his job. The succession was safe.
Zuko knew they were just waiting for him to die, eager for the day his child would take the throne in his place. They didn’t want him to live any longer. He was the traitor, the conqueror, the usurper. He swallowed. Never had he ever thought his own people would see him that way. And if it had been the Earth Kingdom seeing their new Fire Nation rulers that way, it wouldn’t have mattered.
Though what would happen if she miscarried, or the baby died- Those things happened all the time. Zuko resisted the urge to touch Mai’s belly, to reassure himself that their child was still safe. Her hand felt so warm around his wrist. He rubbed her knuckles, and she mumbled in her sleep. Softly, slowly, he pressed down on her knuckles, and her fingers opened just slightly, enough for him to slip his hand out. Tiptoeing, he made his way around the bed to the window and glanced back Mai. Her knives and shuriken darts lay in their sheathes, next to the bed, and Zuko felt the welling up of the familiar sense of shame that Mai couldn’t wear them to bed anymore the way she always had. He spasmed in his sleep sometimes.
She was going to give him all kinds of grief when she woke up and he was already out of bed. The doctors never talked to him about resting, only Mai. They only... Mai didn’t stop trying to keep him alive just because his doctors had stopped caring. Mai still cared.
He grabbed the windowsill hard when he reached it and let out a quiet sigh. He was safe. Sometimes, he wondered if it would be better just to crawl, so he had less far to fall.
Zuko leaned against the wall in a patch of pinkish-orange sunrise light. Blinking the last of the sleep out of his eyes, he stretched his arms and grabbed his toes. The sunlight sank into his skin, muscles, and bones. Fire burst out of his fingers with the first punch, dying in the air. When the spasm hit, he shoved his elbow hard into the windowsill and held himself up on his feet until it passed. Legs trembling, he brought his hand up in front of himself, sparks cracking behind it. The kata came so easily, so smoothly, born of reflex instead of thought, the first one he had ever learned. It felt so good just to bend, to do something more than hold a fire in his hand to read with. It was like-
It was like nothing else. It didn’t matter that what he was fighting was part of him. He was used to that. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t fight the people he really wanted to burn. He was used to that too.
He watched the last of the flames shrivel up and disappear over the empty floor. His heart hammered in his chest, and he didn’t know if it was the longing or the lightning his sister had used. With one last look at where the fires had been, he grimaced and and swung a dressing gown around his shoulders before padding out the door and down the hall to his office.
There was an education reform law he was in the middle of drafting. If the doctors were right, he didn’t have much time. He had better make the most of it.