Chapter Text
Katara stared at her baby, marveling at the beauty of the little one in her arms. She had never seen anything more beautiful. The infant rested against her chest, so perfect, and yet something stirred inside Katara, something she hadn’t expected to feel the moment her child was born. It wasn’t love or adoration, not at all.
It was terror.
She was terrified.
Two days had passed since the birth, and deep down, Katara could feel that her baby wasn’t hers anymore.
She had given birth to a princess.
A fire princess.
And everyone knew princesses weren’t meant to be loved by their mothers, but to serve the duty of the realm.
It was remarkable, really, how much the baby resembled her wife. A tiny, miniature version of Azula slept soundly against Katara’s chest, unaware of the terrifying future that awaited her.
A knock at the door broke Katara from her thoughts.
To her relief, it wasn’t a maid. It was Azula, holding something in her hands.
"Hey, you," Azula greeted with a warm smile. "I have what you asked for."
Katara smiled when she saw the sea prune on the delicate golden plate. Tui and La, she’d been craving this for so long.
She hadn’t been able to eat any during her pregnancy, but the second thing she told Azula after giving birth was, "Find me sea prune."
Sea prunes weren’t easy to find in the Fire Nation. Katara had no idea how Azula had gotten her hands on them, but she always found a way. It was something Katara loved about her wife: Azula always figured it out.
"Is she asleep?" Azula asked, gazing at their daughter with adoration.
Katara nodded slowly, her eyes returning to her baby.
The noblewoman who had kept her company during her pregnancy had warned her that newborns cried relentlessly for days. But her daughter? She was calm, sweet, and spent most of her time sleeping. A real blessing.
"Yeah, she is."
Azula carefully sat next to Katara on the bed, mindful of not waking the baby, and placed the plate on the bedside table.
"Do you want me to put her in her crib?"
Katara tightened her grip on the baby, the idea of letting her go unbearable. She had refused, violently, to let any maid care for her daughter since her birth. She was the one who would bathe her, feed her, change her, hold her. Even if it meant defying protocol, even if the noble families objected, she would not share her daughter. Well, except with Azula, of course.
Before the baby was born, Katara had decorated a beautiful room for her daughter, with red, gold, and blue. She’d loved creating that nest for her future child. But now that the baby was here, the thought of her sleeping away from her frightened Katara to the core.
"She’s fine there," Katara whispered, gazing at her daughter. "I don’t mind holding her."
Azula’s concerned look didn’t escape Katara’s notice. It wasn’t fair. Katara was her mother, and she could hold her baby as much as she wanted.
"Can I hold her?" Azula asked softly.
Katara raised her gaze to meet Azula’s eyes, and she saw the worry there, even though Azula tried to hide it. It had started during the last month of her pregnancy, this look, like Azula was afraid of losing her or, worse, like she was afraid of breaking down at any moment.
Katara wasn’t made of glass. She was just worried, that’s all.
The baby was a princess.
A new threat.
And Katara had heard the rumors.
Despite Azula’s best efforts to shield her from them, the rumors found their way to her ears, and they had gnawed at her, twisting her in countless ways.
Slowly, Katara nodded and, very carefully, placed the baby in Azula’s arms. The baby didn’t even stir, still lost in her peaceful slumber.
"Isn’t she the sweetest?" Azula murmured, more to herself than to Katara.
The sight of Azula holding their daughter made Katara’s heart melt. She wished they could stay like this forever, the three of them, in this bedroom.
"Now, mama has to eat her disgusting water tribe food if she wants more strength, right?" Azula teased the baby, her tone sweet.
Katara rolled her eyes. She couldn’t punch Azula when she was holding the baby, especially when Azula was mocking her favorite food.
But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she picked up the plate of sea prune and began eating. Tui and La, she needed this.
"Seriously, I still don’t get what you find in this," Azula said, grimacing. "I hope she won’t have your taste in food."
Katara shot Azula a look, noticing the faint smile Azula was fighting to suppress.
"She will," Katara said confidently. "She’s my daughter. She’ll love what I love."
Azula chuckled softly, just a little. She wouldn’t risk waking the baby and making Katara angry. Katara wasn’t entirely sure Azula would’ve stopped if it wasn’t for their daughter, but Azula loved teasing her until it was too much. Before Katara could get really mad, Azula would always shower her with compliments—sweet, spicy ones that always left her speechless. Katara was silent most of the time because she usually had Azula’s lips on hers, but that was another story.
"She’s our daughter," Azula amended, "so yeah, I guess she’ll inherit some of your sins..."
Our daughter.
No. She belonged to the Fire Nation. Azula had married her. Azula had chosen this path. Their daughter would never truly be theirs. She would belong to the kingdom. Katara had to accept that. No matter what.
Katara chewed her food in silence. Azula shot her another worried look, but Katara was too exhausted to care.
"Are you okay?" Azula asked softly.
Katara was so tired of hearing that question.
Are you okay?
Are you sure you’re fine?
Tell me, love, what can I do for you?
Katara blinked and looked at her wife.
"Sure. Why?"
"Well," Azula said hesitantly, "I insulted you, and you didn’t retort. That’s not really you."
Katara sighed, already feeling the weight of exhaustion. She wasn’t angry anymore. In fact, she was already starting to miss the warmth of her daughter. The baby was as warm as Azula. A firebender baby. Even though it was too soon to know for sure, Katara felt it in her belly during the pregnancy. The heat, the warmth that never left her. She had loved being pregnant, loved knowing she carried Azula’s child. A firebender child. She would never tell her Water Tribe family, but she was ecstatic at the thought.
It had all been thanks to Azula.
Azula had shown her that fire wasn’t something to fear. It was warmth. It was love. It was safety. How could Katara not love fire?
It was a shame for a waterbender, but she couldn’t help it. She knew her daughter would one day be a powerful firebender. Maybe even have blue flames. Blue and fire—her daughter.
"I’m just tired," Katara finally said, avoiding Azula’s eyes.
"Oh, sorry," Azula said, standing. "I’ll let you rest."
As Azula stood, Katara’s heart raced, and fear gripped her chest.
"Where are you going?!" she blurted out, her voice tight.
The baby let out a soft whimper.
Her daughter needed her.
Her daughter had to stay with her.
"I was just—" Azula paused, confused. "I was just going to put her in her room."
"No!" Katara cried, her voice breaking, and the baby cried too, as if she could feel her mother’s distress.
Katara stretched out her arms with trembling fingers, tears rolling down her cheeks. Azula froze, trying to soothe the baby in her arms.
"Give her to me. Please," Katara’s voice was broken.
Azula nodded silently and handed their daughter back to her.
As soon as Katara held the baby again, she felt the tension leave her. She whispered sweet words to calm her daughter, who stopped crying and began to yawn.
"Do you...?" Azula’s voice seemed distant now. "Need anything else?"
Kayla’s little golden eyes looked up at Katara with curiosity. Katara smiled and gazed back at her daughter, pouring all the love she had into that shared glance.
She didn’t even realize Azula was still standing there, watching them.
Right now, all that mattered was that her daughter was in her arms.
Safe.
.
.
.
"So," Zuko began, his voice uncertain, as if he were walking on eggshells, "I was hoping to see my niece today, but I heard that Katara didn’t want any visitors around her."
Azula paused, the glass of red wine at her lips. She took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure, her face as impassive as she could manage.
"She just gave birth, Zuko," Azula said coldly. "She needs rest."
"It’s been a week," he countered, his eyes focused on his plate, arranging the food with an intensity that seemed disproportionate to the situation.
Azula's patience was running thin. "Well, did you ever give birth, Zuzu?" she asked, her smirk sharp and biting.
Zuko sighed, his shoulders sagging as if defeated by something more than the conversation. "It’s just..." He hesitated, looking almost like a child again, vulnerable and unsure. "The baby has to be presented to the court, to our people. It’s... you know, the custom."
Azula bit the inside of her cheek, her irritation growing. The idea of Katara and their daughter being paraded around in front of strangers made her stomach churn. Katara hadn't been herself for days. Azula couldn't bear the thought of her wife being exposed to the court right now, not when she needed to heal, not when she needed Azula.
She needed rest. And Azula would make sure of that.
"I don’t give a damn about the custom, Zuko," Azula snapped. "I’m not the Firelord. My child has nothing to do with this."
Zuko looked up at her, his tired eyes meeting hers. Dark circles marred his face, and his complexion was paler than usual, as though the weight of his role had aged him beyond his years.
"You know that’s not true," he said softly. "You’re the Princess of the Fire Nation. When Katara married you, she became the Princess Consort. Kayla is your heir."
His words landed with a heavy, sorrowful finality, and Azula hated him for saying it. Hated him for being right. Hated herself for being a princess.
"She will be the only heir," he added quietly.
Azula felt a pang in her chest. The situation was suffocating. This dinner was nothing but an inconvenience. She was supposed to be with her family, curled up in the warmth of their bed, comforting Katara, who didn’t want to leave it. But she was the Firelord’s hand, and when Zuko asked for a dinner, Azula had no choice but to comply. The old Azula would have told him to get lost and demanded to be left alone with her wife and their precious baby. But the Azula she had become—the one who understood duty, who had learned to put others before herself—couldn’t say no.
Unfortunately.
Zuko needed her, and their strained relationship had only recently begun to improve. For the sake of their family, she couldn’t afford to push him away, not now. She needed to know everything that was happening in the realm, more than ever now that she was a mother.
"I don’t like it either, Azula," Zuko said, his voice carrying a trace of exhaustion, "but people will start to talk, and—"
"Let them!" Azula erupted, standing so abruptly that her chair nearly tipped over. The maids and guards stationed against the walls jumped at her sudden movement.
"Let them speak!" she continued, her voice filled with fury. "And if one of them dares disrespect Katara or my daughter, I’ll burn them alive until they die screaming!"
Her breath came in heavy, labored gasps as her anger surged. Her blood boiled, and for a moment, she felt consumed by the heat of it. This was the result of those people and their rumors—they had reduced Katara to this, a woman so terrified of losing her daughter that she was barely even herself anymore. A shell of who she used to be.
But Azula wouldn’t let that happen. Not on her watch. Not ever.
Zuko stared at her in shock, his face pale, his mouth slightly agape. The expression on his face was one she hadn’t seen since the day she had returned from that damn psychiatric hospital. He was terrified of her, and for once, Azula didn’t care.
"Azula, you have to calm down," he said, standing up from his seat, his voice unsteady.
"I’ll calm down the day I’m sure that people will stop calling my child a bastard because my wife isn’t from the Fire Nation!" Azula's voice rose, tremulous with barely controlled emotion. "I’ll shut up the day they stop saying that my daughter will be murdered in her sleep because she ‘deserves it!’ I will stop when this fucking court stops treating my family like traitors!"
Her vision blurred as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Since Katara's pregnancy, Azula had been terrified for her child’s future. Afraid that her daughter would be forever tainted by the poison of the court’s cruel gossip.
"You’re the Firelord," Azula spat, her voice thick with bitterness. "Act like it! Protect your legacy, Zuko. Protect your family!"
Zuko lowered his gaze, avoiding her eyes, looking like a coward, like someone who couldn’t face the reality of what had been said, what had been done to them.
Everything was his fault.
She knew she was being harsh, but she couldn’t help it. Zuko and his wife couldn’t have children, couldn’t give him an heir, so it had fallen to her—no, to Katara—to carry that burden. Katara had sacrificed everything for a kingdom that had once destroyed her. And yet, the court expected Azula to accept their son or daughter as a symbol.
They owed Katara everything. They owed her everything.
"I’m sorry," Zuko murmured, turning to leave, his voice soft, distant. "But you know I’m right."
.
.
.
It took Azula a moment before she could bring herself to return to their bedroom. She refused to face Katara while she was still angry, furious, and devastated.
She didn’t know how many times she stared at the door, her thoughts drifting far away from where they should have been.
"Your grace, is everything alright?" a guard posted outside their door asked, his voice tentative.
Azula blinked, momentarily pulled out of her thoughts. She had almost forgotten that she wasn’t alone. She was never truly alone in this wretched palace. Sometimes, she wished she could just take Katara and their daughter, flee this place, and leave behind the endless duties that had never been asked of them. She regretted dragging Katara into this toxic world, this royal cage that had nearly destroyed her.
But there was one thing Azula had never regretted: that Katara had crossed her path.
She had never loved anyone the way she loved Katara.
So much that it hurt.
"No," Azula said, her voice unsteady before she quickly corrected herself. "I mean, yes, I’m fine. Thanks," she added to the guard, who clearly wasn’t convinced by her words. "I just need a minute."
A minute before she could slip back into the role of the unshakable Firelord’s hand, the strongest one.
The one who wasn’t scared.
Agni knew how terrified she truly was.