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.