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Zuko finds his wife in the gardens, a deep grey blanketing the clouds in the sky, covering the sun that shines on their nation more often than not. He did not have to search for long. Mai spends most of her free time here these days. She sits in the grass with her hair loose, and the long locks flap around as a gust of wind ripples through the garden. She shivers, then brings her knees to her chest. He should sit beside her, pull her close and use his inner flame to warm his wife. His feet remain rooted to the grass. He cannot move; he cannot face the rejection he knows will arrive. Before, he would have marched to her and held her close. Before what, though? Before the grass filled with the Aster flowers for all they lost? Before they celebrated a decade of marriage? The distance she’s placed between them frightens him. He does not know when it began; he does not know how to fix this.
It began with unrest in the villages. Their tenth anniversary hit a nerve with the people desperate for revolution. After ten years with no heir and ten years of an insecure monarchy, they found it time for a change. The sparks of rebellion have not started a fire to spread through their nation, but Zuko fears it will come. The Fire Sages and court urge him to consider his options. His. They only talk to him, never to Mai, their Fire Lady, and her opinion on the matter. They are a unit, a family, and Zuko will never betray her in such a manner. He will die as the sole heir to the throne with Mai by his side, then lay with another woman for a child.
If it didn’t begin with the unrest of the villages, then the trigger was the viperous hisses of high society. The tides turned against his wife over the years as their family tree remained barren. Gone were the days women emulated Mai’s hairstyles and wore black fingerless gloves. Now the ladies of high society hiss as she wears the crown; they all covet.
Or did it begin two months ago, when they dug another small hole in the earth to place remnants of what could have been into the ground, a seed to keep it company? They knew how it would end, just as it always does, with their sheets stained and their hearts numb. It’s almost ironic. He had wished for stability for so long, and he got this. The inevitable end to all of their attempts at a family remains constant; it remains stable.
He tries not to wonder how this will end. His attempts fail; he spends many sleepless nights imagining their child, the one that will make it through, hopefully soon. He prefers this end to the one the Fire Sages push for. Even the idea of it makes his skin crawl with disgust. He could never sleep with another woman, one handpicked for a likeness to Mai, all to give them a child that Mai….They will have a baby. Their turn will come. They will be parents. He has to believe this. He believes in them, in her, even if everybody else gives up even though she gave up.
“Are you going to say something or just stand there?” Mai’s sharp voice cuts through the air life like a knife she yields. Her eyes remain on the garden, though how she noticed him, he does not know. Mai’s always seen what’s there before he has. Perhaps that’s why she’s accepted a life with no children born from her, as incredible as he believes that to be. He remains silent, wondering how to respond when Mai says, “You can sit.”
Her permission ignites a speed as he dashes to sit beside her. The grass still has remnants of dew from the rainfall earlier this morning, and he’s sure his pants will stain from this. He ordered a stone bench to be built here several years ago when so much of their clothes would stain from all the time they spent here. More so Mai than his, he would find her here with grass stains on her knees as she gripped the dirt, but nothing deterred her. Not even the bench, rarely used, could keep her from sitting with this.
He sneaks a glance at her. Her glasses cannot hide her red eyes or the deep, purple shadows that rest beneath them. Nor can they distract him from her tear-stained cheeks. He does not have to ask why she cried; he already knows. It is the same reason for all their strife since marriage, the exact reason for the court's recent coldness towards her. None of this would exist without this garden of loss.
“It’s going to rain soon,” He breaks the settled silence since he sat down. “Should we go inside?” He sounds so formal, so unlike himself. Their marriage has turned to stilted conversations with polite words. He wants to grab his wife to her feet and carry her inside; he wants to yank her away from the garden; there is so much he wishes he could say instead.
Mai gives an imperceptible nod. He struggles to read her, a rarity since they married, but he does not wait long to hear her answer. “I just need to be here,” She whispers. She turns her head to the Aster flowers, all of different heights and shades of purple. The oldest, the ones in the furthest row, has grown several feet tall. Their violet petals bloom brightly every year, always returning after their short month or two of rest.
They started this after the first one. Only one year into their marriage, both believed this would be the only. Never mind the fact they had tried for the entire year for Mai to become pregnant. They collected the remains of it, both still shaken after they awoke to blood staining their sheets in the middle of another, and planted it with an Aster seed. Asters, for remembrance, for a symbol of what could have been, for the child they lost. They thought it would be the only one. One by one, did that first row fill with flowers. Then a second row. Halfway through the third row of Asters, he wonders how much Mai has in her before no more seeds join this garden. He wishes this would end. He wants their child to be successful and have the family his friends started to plant.
Zuko should not be bitter; he’s not the one suffering each time this occurs; he cannot allow his desires to cloud who matters; Mai. His words, his hopes, none holds any worth next to Mai. He will not burden her with his sadness. He smiles at Katara and Aang and their son. He nods his head as Suki discusses her plan for the Kyoshi Warriors now that she and Sokka have a baby. He bites back all his anger for what they have lost. Anger does nobody any good, especially when there is not one person to blame. Mai never asked for this; neither of them did.
“I’m sorry,” Her voice tightens with each word. “I wish I wasn’t this way.”
He wonders if she read his mind, that somehow she understands just how badly he wants this. He tries to find the words to comfort her. He’s done this for ten years. It’s been ten years of apologies and promises for things to be better and yelling at the Fire Sages and telling their mothers to shut up about children and pushing away younger women mimicking his wife to gain his affection, and asking his uncle to stop hinting about seeing him as a father and begging Agni for a chance.
He reaches for a handout, but she does not take it. He leaves his hand on the grass, palm up, just in case she changes her mind. “We don’t need a baby. I know the Fire Sages said otherwise, but we don’t. I’ll make Tom-Tom or Kiyi my successor or something; it doesn’t matter.”
“I need one,” She whispers in that raspy voice he adores. “You seem to think I want one for you, but I want one for me.” At the end, she raises her voice, composure cracking from the mask she so desperately attempts to hold when they discuss their future.
His face flushes as her words register. He tries to speak, but this opens something in his wife, as her eyes pierce his with such sadness inside them he can barely breathe. “Did you actually think this was all for the crown? I want to be a mother. Zuko, I’ve been…. They hurt!” Her voice cracks as her lip quivers. She regains control to stop the quelling of her lip, but he knows what he saw.
“I didn’t-“
“I wouldn’t be putting myself through this pain for this freaking nation. I’ve known for years I’m as worthy as what I can produce; I’ll be tossed aside-“
“No, you-“
She holds a hand up to silence him. He complies, as his wife rarely says this much in one moment, even after opening herself up over the years. He’s learned Mai, even after therapy and years away from her parent's home, is simply a quieter person. He savors every moment she goes on tangents, even when they are in anger.
She fiddles with the necklace he gave her long ago, that golden chain with a ruby stone. “Miscarriages really hurt,” She draws in a deep breath, though her words still tremble. “I wouldn’t do this unless I really wanted to be a mother. I want a family with you. Did you really think this was out of obligation?” She turns her head away again, back to the Asters of all they lost, as she whispers, “Do you also not believe I am motherly?”
Her words gut him. His throat burns as tears clog his eyes. He knows Mai wants a child; they’ve spent many nights sobbing over their losses. He’s brought her tea in bed and fruit tarts in the bath, and he’s done anything he can to ease the pain that the departure of another baby brings to her body. He’s given her massages and held her in his arms. He understands her distance as of late. Here he’s treated her as if she’s worked so hard all for him, when this is for her, for the two of them. She continuously suffers as he can only watch. Despite all the miscarriages he’s witnessed, he never realized how painful they must be. He’s heard her whimper and clutched her stomach for a decade, sat beside her as she writhed in pain, and held her as she sobbed into their pillow. He should have known. He should have somehow fixed this for them. Yet this is out of his control. He cannot write legislation; he cannot flash his crown; he cannot change Mai’s body.
“I’m sorry,” He inches closer to her, so his shoulder brushes against her sharp one. “I don’t know why I said that. I guess I just wanted to take pressure off you.”
She laughs coldly, yet there is nothing funny about this. He suspects Mai knows this too. “Pressure off?” She repeats. “You wanted there to be less pressure on me?” With anger, she saves for the bigots of court; Mai hisses, “I am ten years overdue with a baby. Nothing you say can relieve the pressure.”
“Is this an heir thing or you thing? I just thought you said you didn’t-“
She whips her head to face him, long hair flying behind her. The wind picked up, shaking him to his core. Her face contorts as her brows furrow and her lip curls. While he’s improved at understanding her moods, this anger and sadness combination is one that still stumps him. “I want one!” She cries. “I’ve waited ten years for my turn.”
Zuko suspects nothing he says will soothe this wound. He tentatively wraps an arm around her instead, as he does whenever words fail to comfort her. She stiffens in his embrace, yet he does not let go. How does she expect things to be better if she keeps her distance? Testing his luck, he brushes his lips against her head. This simple action causes her to cave in to him. She grips his tunic, and her head rests against his chest. He holds her closer, shifting his body to face her.
“I can’t do it anymore,” She murmurs. The anger left her voice, defeat lacing every word. The finality of her statement does not escape him.
He feels the first tear land on him just as a raindrop plops onto his shoulder. Mai’s tears coincide with the sky as sleet or rain begins. Her tears fall faster as they soak his tunic. He can only rock her in his embrace as the rain falls faster and harder. Her words leave his stomach-churning. He is the one who encourages her with promises to keep trying. Does she want to quit? Does she want to raise a child between him and another woman? Does she want to be his wife, his Fire Lady, as he marries a second woman to be the mother of his child? He wants nothing less, the idea of it so unfathomable, he wants to avoid it at all costs. Doesn’t she feel the same?
Unless… thunder rumbles in the distance as it hits him like lightning bolt. The “It” is this life. Their life, one far better than anything he could have dreamt of when younger. If she was done with this, she was done with their marriage. He fists the fabric of her turtleneck, desperate to keep her close as if she can vanish before his eyes. He struggles to breathe, his lungs suddenly incapable of doing the primary task.
“You’re my wife.” He does not ask the question, but both know it is. She is his wife; he is her husband. Who would they be without the other?
She rests her head against his collarbone. He’s grateful he went without formal clothing of the Fire Lord today; there is no need when he’s just Zuko. Sometimes he feels there are two versions of him and Mai. The Fire Lord and Fire Lady, a couple in jewels and elaborate outfits fret over policies and their lack of an heir. Then there is Zuko and Mai. Together they read plays, spar, and wish for a child to complete their family. He prefers himself as just Zuko, and while he wishes that’s all he had to be, their nation relies on him for the future. Their future would only include a child of both their blood, not just his. He thought Mai agreed with him.
She shudders in his embrace, her clothing wet to the touch. He’s freezing too. They should go inside, but what do they have in there? Silent halls, silent rooms, silent family members who creep around the growing issue. They can return to their chambers and stare at the door that leads to a room void of a child. They can do paperwork, both knowing anything Mai says will be refuted, as these days the court argues with her.
He strains to hear her, but her words send the hair on his neck rising. “I am not happy,” She mumbles. Her lips tremble against his collarbone with every word.
I am not happy. I am not happy. I am not happy.
What a strange way to phrase it. She could have told him she is anxious, she’s worried, she’s upset, anything in the world, even she is unhappy, but no. I am not happy. “You’re never happy,” He forces a chuckle out. “Remember? That’s what you say. What can I do? Should we go forward with… a girl? If that’s what you want, please, I will, just please, Mai.” He’s aware of the desperation in his words, the plea for his wife to stop this, but he cannot change. If Mai wants a baby, he will give her a baby. He will set aside his disgust and fear to do what he needs for her.
Mai twists in his arms to lock eyes with him. Unlike his own, her face remains smooth, where lines formed around his eyes. She maintains an excessive skincare routine. She rubs many lotions and oils on her face every morning and night; all are kept in a jade box for her hands. He thought they would have children by the time wrinkles come. Children, as in plural, because once they wanted multiple. Somehow he is thirty-one, childless, and his wife is unhappy.
She lightly touches his jaw, pausing to see his smile before cups his cheek. Her hands are cold, as usual, but he does not mind. He can only focus on the sorrow in her eyes, the way her mouth curves down, and the stiffness of her jaw. “You will be a wonderful father,” She declares with such confidence he believes her for a moment.
“And you’ll be a wonderful mother!” He nearly yells over the howling of the wind. He understands precisely what she implies, no matter how much he wishes otherwise.
She smiles too, one of pity, and his heart speeds as his throat constricts. “No,” She shakes her head. “I won’t be a mother.”
“But we have options! We can find a girl who looks like you, they said. The baby will be ours! You’ll hold the baby right away; they said whoever we pick will know the baby is yours. We can do that, wait and try more; let’s just do that. Let’s just wait, okay? We are still trying. I know we’ll have a baby. You’re going to be a mom. I know it’s going to-“
“The protests, the whispers, Zuko, they don’t even listen to me in court anymore. I am their Fire Lady, and they treat me like… You will see how easier things will be when I am gone.”
Thunder booms again. The Asters drop with the weight of rain. Mai blurs in his vision, and he wishes it was due to rain in his eyes. He hopes the wetness on his cheeks was rain droplets, but he knows it. “No,” He chokes. “No, Mai, I’m going to fix this. They’re just… they’re just still so behind. It’s going to be okay; I can make sure… I didn’t know you… Please. I love you!”
“You deserve a child, a stable nation, a wife who can just do whatever other women can do. I’m not that person.”
He runs a hand through his hair; his hand drenched with the water that’s settled into his locks. His frustration rises at her. “I married you because I love you! How are you just giving up? You just said you want a child for you! Now you’re going on about the nation?”
She points to their garden, and he follows her gaze. “I cannot keep doing this.” Defeat laces her words. She speaks louder than usual as the rain pounds down with a volume they must compete with. “I’m exhausted! Don’t you realize that this will keep happening if you stay with me? What are we going to do, fill the entire gardens with these flowers? Is that the plan?”
He opens and closes his mouth, words failing to come. What is their plan? He insists their baby will come, but what if it doesn’t? Will he force Mai to raise a baby that’s not hers? A baby that will only exist because she could not have one? Is that fair?
“We have gone to every healer we can find. They all tried to fix me; even Katara couldn’t! I won’t drag you down with me.”
He furrows his brows at her words. Drag him down? She’s the best part of life. How could Mai ever believe she was hurting him? All because of a baby? He wants a child, but he wants to keep his wife more. How could she think otherwise?
Except he is fertile. He is the one who can have an heir, the one who managed to help fill a garden of what could have been their child. She is the one who cannot.
The rebellions, the protests, and the court's silence were not because of him. He can scream and fire members of the court, ignore men whose wives flaunt their children to Mai, and shine his crown on the Fire Sages, but he cannot change their Barron family tree. He would rather quell hundreds of protests, stop every assassin, lose all court members, or even relinquish his right to the throne than lose Mai.
She throws her hands in the air and sighs. “I am the problem. If I leave, everything will improve. You deserve so much more than this!” She gestures to the flowers.
This as in their crumbling monarchy? This as in mothers who badger them about a grandchild? This is as in watching everyone around them start families? This as in their dead children buried under Asters? What he deserves is somebody who he does not own: his wife.
They are partners. When she agreed to his proposal ten years ago, it was on the condition they would be equals. He always viewed them as such but knew the nation would not. As equals, as partners, she has a say. Mai has the right to leave.
His stomach churns as he imagines waking to an empty space beside him. No Mai to spar with him. No Mai to read with him. No Mai to talk with him. No Mai to eat with him. No Mai to kiss. A sharp pain stabs him at an even worse fate. Another woman will lay in bed beside him. He cannot even see somebody besides Mai in their sheets.
“What do you deserve?” He asks. “Do you want to leave me?”
Leave me, your husband. Leave our pets. Leave our family. Leave the nation we built together. Leave the schools you rebuilt from the ashes. Leave the child protection laws you put into place. Leave the age of consent to the marriage law you wrote for your mother. Leave the healthcare law. Leave the university you helped create. Leave our home. Leave our garden. Leave our dead children.
Her eyes flit to the ground as she bows her head. Her hair clumps together as the rain platters above them. He wishes to smooth her hair out, an innate instinct after so long together, but his hands remain on her back. “It doesn’t matter.”
He touches her jaw just as she did to him. He cups her cheek when she does not flinch from maintaining eye contact. He caresses her cheekbone as he says, “It matters to me.” He emphasizes each word, hopeful she will understand this is the truth.
“I want,” She stops to inhale and exhale. She breathes slowly as if it’s difficult for her. Her face had tear stains, too, blending in with the rain. “I want you to be respected. If you stay with me….” She trails off.
He scoffs at this as shadows dance across her face as the sky darkens. The clouds, already grey, seem even more ominous. “I don’t care what our people think of me in Agni's name over a baby. I would rather have you than any ch. I don’t care about the court, the Fire Sages, or our mothers. So I am asking you-“ He pauses to brush a tear from her face. “What do you want for yourself?”
She lowers his hand from her cheek to face the flowers again. He can only watch as she runs her thumb down the vibrant, purple petal of one of them. Beads of water fall each caress. She touches it gently as if the flower can wake from its slumber and let out a piercing cry they have never heard from a child of their own. Mai tends to the garden. She refuses help from the servants. They know never to water, weed, or trim this greenery part. Mai, who has a curriculum to review, laws to write, and places to visit, dedicates several hours a week to ensure the flowers look perfect.
She keeps her thumb on the flower as she rasps, “I want us to be parents.” She still does not face him.
He crawls closer to the Asters. He’s aware of just how soaked he is from the rain. His pants are drenched, surely stained, but he will stay as long as Mai wishes. He intertwines his fingers with hers, and she stops stroking the petal. “I want that too,” He chokes out. “We will be.”
That could be a false statement. There may never be a baby that survives long enough to hold in its arms. He cannot give up hope. He has to believe, for both of them, that they will. “Mai, I know someday we will have a child, and we can tell them all about why we have these flowers, okay?”
She flexes her fingers to draw away from him. “What if we don’t?” She raises her brows to him as her chin tilts, but he can see the uncertainty in her eyes.
“Then… we do what you want.”
Despair crosses her face, fitting for the weather, at his answer. He thought what he said was right. He was giving her a choice, allowing her to make the decision, yet as her back straightens and she bites her lip, he realizes otherwise.
“We don’t-“
“I won’t raise a baby from you and another woman.” She cuts him off. She draws her shoulders back. Her hair clings to her face, and her face flushes, but she is always beautiful to him. No woman can compare to his wife. He’s told the Fire Sages this as they strategically place young women with bangs and glasses like Mai in his vicinity as if they will ever be her.
“Okay, we don’t have to. I told you I don’t want that either. I said earlier, we can make Kiyi or Tom-Tom my heir. We can-“
“I want you to be a father.”
He throws his head back in frustration. If he were still a young man still, he might have howled in annoyance for the circular conversation they’ve found themselves in. He refrains from yelling out as he is thirty-one, but the irritation remains. Water beats down his face, but he still will not look at her. “I don’t want to be a father without you!” He cannot keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Agni, Mai! I keep saying this!”
“I can’t have children!” She snarls. Her lips twist to a frown as her eyes shine with rage. "You will never get what you want if you stay married to me! I am doing this for you."
"Doing this for me?" He echoes with a huff. He leans forward to take her hands so she cannot hide from him again. "You matter more! I keep saying this; can't you just understand?" He brings her fingers to his lips to gently kiss them, anything to prove he loves her. "Please?" He whispers this time.
Mai's face tightens as she squeezes her eyes shut and tilts her chin back. Her chin quivers as her shoulders begin to shake. He wonders if she is freezing or on the verge of tears. He suspects both, as her fingertips are slightly blue. He wraps an arm around her head to bring her closer. Using his inner chi, he channels warmth into her. He should have done this earlier. If he's suffered from the bitter wind, his non-bender wife must be frigid. She relaxes at the heat as their bodies mold together. He knows her better than anybody, and she knows him more than anyone else. They fit perfectly together; how could she believe he would rather have a baby than her?
He's now certain that she can hear his thoughts as she responds to his unasked question. "What if I don't have one, and you resent me when we're eighty years old?"
Zuko feels his lips turn up in a smile as he imagines them at eighty. He sees Mai with her long signature locks grey with those glasses he loves still on her face. He will have his hair, grey also, long, and he likely will wear glasses. They will read together, vacation to Ember Island, and ride Druk. He believed they would have children, grandchildren, even, and one of their kids would be Fire Lord. The children are not necessary. Instead, he would prefer to grow old with Mai than be a father to a child from another woman. He kisses her forehead before catching her gaze. "I would rather have a lifetime with you than any other option." His answer is the truth. Mai is his world; she is the person he cannot live without.
"I want you to have a good life."
He wipes her glasses with his thumb, and his print smudges the circular lens. "A good life for me means one with you." He does not look away as she blinks furiously. He hopes she comprehends just how truthful he is. He's lived without Mai before; he knows how horrible it is.
"And if things don't get better?"
He kisses the slope of her nose and grins as she forces her face to remain neutral. "Then they stay how they are, and if we're together, it can't be too bad." He smacks his lips against her cheek.
Mai wriggles her head to stare at him again. "And if... if I have more?"
"Well," He inches closer to her. He runs a hand down her back, stopping to warm her once more. "We plant more flowers and remember."
She merely nods her chin as a response, and he uses the opportunity to press his lips against hers. She accepts his advance, and for a brief moment, he forgets he's sitting in a garden of children that never made it, soaked in the rain after nearly losing Mai. Lightning flashes, and they break apart. He jumps from the grass, his legs stained with mud, and extends his hand to Mai. "I think that means it's time to warm up under the blankets and eat fruit tarts, don't you?"
She allows a smile to shine across her face this time, a brilliant sight even after so long. She takes his hand, and together, they begin the trek back to their chambers. They walk in silence, but it's comfortable this time, the way it should be. He glances over his shoulder to take one last look at the Asters. Their brilliant purple contrasts against the bleak landscape. He recalls a book on plants Mai read so long ago. Rain, while a hindrance to people, helps their flowers bloom. He knows he cannot guarantee that the garden has been completed. He and Mai will likely find themselves digging another hole to plant a flower to join their family, but at least they will be together. A second lightning bolt strikes. Despite her protests, he scoops Mai into his arms, and with the rain pouring down, he hurries inside. They're drenched, and will likely have colds, but at least Mai laughs. He can deal with anything as long as he has her.