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Zuko used to imagine that falling in love was rather like being set on fire. Powerful. Hot. Inescapable. All-consuming. And more importantly, it fucking hurt. As a child, he’d watched his parents’ marriage fall apart. As a teenager, he’d been subjected to the raucously salacious stories from his crew that never had a happy ending. And once he became Fire Lord, he’d begun to see the prim and proper marriages of his peers in Fire Nation nobility for the loveless matchups that they truly were. All the while, he was terrified of any of it happening to him.
But his own reality was very different.
Zuko was usually the first to wake in the mornings. Katara never rose before him unless she hadn’t slept at all. Fitful nights had been the norm since she’d entered her third trimester, as had the tantalising way she’d been waking him up. Bodily and sensual. It was his new favourite way to greet the day, with his wife’s hands on him. Mouth on him. Swallowing him.
But not this morning. It had been weeks since he woke to an empty bed, the sun peeking into their chambers, and the sheets cold. He knew she had some appointments this morning but not this early.
Zuko climbed out of bed but didn’t bother with a robe. He wore only knee-high trousers and a worried countenance, slipping out the side door of his shared chambers that only he and Katara ever used. He followed the path from their terrace, down the broken pathway many Fire Lords before him had used for night-time rendezvous with mistresses. The stone pathway had been repurposed — as much of the palace had – for less insidious aspirations. Like a rendezvous with his heavily pregnant wife instead.
He already knew where she was.
The path twisted and turned a few times, always descending. The trail once led to a large, hidden but traditional Fire Nation house. Cozy and comfortable, with a large bed in the centre that had made him dry heave when he realised what his father (in particular) had used it for. Zuko burned it to the ground and arranged for a turtle duck pond built into the existing foundations as the population in the palace exploded. The ecosystem of the palace was overrun, but a nearby water source — more like a waterfall — made the transition to this pond much easier.
The council had murmured things about “control” and “culling”, but he would have none of it.
“Katara?”
The path opened up into the turtle duck sanctuary, where he immediately spotted his heavily pregnant wife pacing in front of the main pool, a small, familiar bag in her hand. The area was decorated with both Fire Lilies and select southern water tribe staples like wild blueberries — the sea prunes Katara loved just refused to grow here, but she was in the middle of a project, organising the plantation of a small pine tree forest along the high stone walls that lined the entire area. Apparently, she had loved the one near her tribe in the south. He would let her build glaciers if it made her feel better.
She was making this place her home away from home. He smiled at that.
“Katara?” He repeated and she stopped for a moment, her gaze softening as she spotted him, before returning to her pacing, the bag now swinging in her hands.
Fire Lady Katara was a sight to behold. Seven months pregnant, waddling like a turtle duck and raging like a storm. Her gait would look odd on everyone else but on her… it always mesmerised Zuko, every change her body made with the passing weeks. Each trimester brought a new quirk for him to admire. A new reason to respect and love her. He watched her struggle through the onslaught of emotions and chaotic hormones through the months. The tears of joy. The tears of frustration. Of annoyance and pain.
The most stubborn person he knew. The most amazing woman he could have the honour of being with. She was perfect.
He smiled as she stopped, his lips curving into a smirk and she knew what he was thinking; her waddle was adorable.
“I only waddle when I’m trying not to pee myself,” she would say. Was he wrong for finding that sexy?
Katara huffed. “I’m so sick of it.”
Being pregnant? The old council? He couldn’t tell. Both things seemed to equally vex her day to day, and he didn’t want to guess wrong.
“I don’t care how many children she had!” she growled. “I’m not one of them!”
Ah. The head midwife. A late middle-aged woman formerly employed by his father and newly recommended by his uncle who had eight children, twelve grandchildren, three great grand-children and more on the way, apparently. Li Yuan was well-meaning but often rubbed Katara the wrong way with her old-fashioned opinions on motherhood.
“I can fire her.”
Katara scoffed. “No. Then she’ll know she got to me.”
Zuko offered her a wry smile and stepped forward to embrace her from behind. She sighed deeply at the contact, leaning backwards into him. It wouldn’t last. Her feet would grow tired. Her back would begin to ache. Luckily, they’d already had a mini pagoda built in the area, though it still lacked most amenities.
“Demote her?”
She scoffed again.
“Throw her in the waterfall?”
A giggle.
Zuko inhaled her scent as he nuzzled Katara’s neck. “Feed her to the turtle ducks?”
“A true woman,” she said, pinching her nose to make her voice nasal, “can weather any storm. But a real wife and mother knows how to turn the chaos of that storm into order. There is no excuse for emotional outbursts, young lady.”
He grinned. “Perfect imitation.”
Katara shook in his arms as the laughter vibrated through her. He waited for a moment.
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”
Not because she couldn’t handle herself or wasn’t supposed to. The physician had warned them of the possibilities of a distressed foetus. A premature birth. The doctors were equipped for these circumstances. Zuko was born late. Azula was born early. Rare was it that a Fire Nation prince or princess was ever born on time. And Katara had been stressing over it. Zuko felt her bristle in his hold before going still. She was stubborn, his wife. His soul mate.
He waited.
Katara relaxed but still he waited. She rummaged through the bag in her hand, pulling out a few pieces of bread.
Zuko was confused. “What is that for?”
She tilted her head up to look at him, at his question, and his breath caught in his throat at the intensity on her face. He’d fallen in love with her because of that glare. The painful expectations of love that he’d developed in his early years had burned away the first time she looked at him like that.
He remembered it like it was yesterday.
Legs dangling in the water, trousers bunched up around her knees, sitting on the edge of the old turtle duck pond he’d grown up visiting. She had accidentally scared some younglings and was stubbornly waiting for the mother to re-emerge so she could apologise.
Zuko hadn’t seen her coming. Months of working alongside her when she visited as a diplomat for the southern water tribe. Weeks on end in congress, arguing over trade agreements, agreeing on who the real enemies of peace were. Coming to a head with a heated kiss in the pond when she’d bent the water in frustration and he’d heated it, steaming the air and sprinkling them with droplets. The air tense with their unresolved, sexual tension.
She’d made the first move.
He still couldn’t believe his luck that she liked him back.
It hadn’t been fast. What Zuko hadn’t expected to experience was a slow, loving but fierce journey that burned over months and years until it started to scorch him. Smother him. In the form of the sweetest, strongest, and sexiest woman he’d ever met.
And now…?
“Feeding the turtle ducks,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Zuko blinked heavily down at her before looking out over the pond, amber eyes zeroing in on a darkened area where the mother was likely hiding with her babies. Katara tossed a small piece of bread into the water, eyes narrowing as it bobbed and floated. Ripples flung out from the centre but quickly settled. There was no more disturbance. Until Katara threw another piece of bread. She watched carefully, biting her bottom lip as the bread and water repeated their dance, only to quiet and go still.
Zuko said nothing. He didn’t remind her that this group of turtle ducks preferred leafy vegetables over yeast. They even accepted raw grains, which Zuko only gave them in moderation. His silence was the result of experience. She didn’t want to feed them kale or spinach. Katara wanted to toss out the bread pieces, because that’s what he’d done as a child. She wanted the entire experience. And she was stubborn.
“It’s getting cold,” he said eventually and she huffed again. The sun was rising but the cool of the late winter remained in the morning air. A rare occurrence in a region normally so warm, no matter the season.
Zuko stood awkwardly for a few minutes as Katara attempted to coax out an equally stubborn matriarch and her younglings. They weren’t hiding from her out of fear, just avoiding the waterbender, like they could sense her mood. He remembered how hard they could bite when stirred and warned her to keep her distance. Not that Katara needed help being kind.
“Then warm me up.”
Zuko breathed against her neck, exhaling his warmth into her body. She sighed, seemingly content. But he knew her better than that. Winter was ending. The shift from winter to summer was a celebration in the Fire Nation and right at this moment, in the distant, polar regions, a new winter shift was being celebrated.
He could smack himself for not considering it might be a source of her stress this morning.
The southern and northern tribes were celebrating the Winter Spirits Festival — an event marking the end of the season and beginning of a new year. For renewal and a prayer to the spirits for good fortune. And she was missing it all, for the first time in years. Katara was separated from her people and culture and being pressured by even the most well-meaning servants into assimilating into Fire Nation culture was not helping.
Which was why he’d broken the rules to give her this place to renovate as she saw fit.
Fuck the old codgers. And fuck the ego that only Fire mattered.
Zuko wanted to celebrate Katara’s culture. He wanted to break down the barriers between each nation. The geriatric members of the High Council had accused him of wanting to merge the world and making firebenders extinct. They’d refused to allocate funds to any kind of official gathering that could be seen, to the public, to be respecting the culture of their Fire Lady.
He knew they were hoping history would forget where she came from.
So Zuko was in the process of firing each and every one of them.
It wasn’t logically the best time to be having a child, given the stress on Katara’s body and the history of the royal family for complicated pregnancies. But she argued it was the perfect time. A fuck you to the traditions that wanted to oppress her for daring to marry their Fire Lord.
So, the Winter Spirits Festival would be celebrated in the Fire Nation as well.
And that day was today.
“Everyone will be looking for us,” he whispered. In the time it had taken to find Katara and calm her, the sun had fully risen and Zuko knew his servants were combing the palace for them both.
She nodded but didn’t move. Staring up at the sky now. The moon had not quite vanished from sight yet. Most people didn’t notice enough to realise the moon could sometimes still be seen during the day.
Katara rubbed her belly gently. Zuko knew she hoped the babe was a waterbender, despite her insistence that it didn’t matter. Maybe to screw with the naysayers in the noble families. Maybe because this would provide a stronger connection for herself with her people in a nation where she felt like an outsider, even with people like Mai and Ty Lee doing their best to include her in their friend’s circle. Either way, he knew their child would be loved more than his father had been in their position.
“We respect our ancestors,” she whispered lovingly to her unborn child. “For good or bad, we would not be here without them. The hunting spirits of Qanik. The animal spirits of Nanuq. The elemental spirits of Tui and La. The Anirniit. Bless this day. Bless our people.”
He began a slow massage of her shoulders as she spoke, repeating the words a few more times, adding other spirit names and prayers. Then she was done and Zuko helped his wife waddle back up the path and return to their room. The day was just beginning. Summer was about to hit them strongly. They needed to say goodbye to winter and bring in the new season.
Katara had sacrificed so much to be with Zuko. He owed her so much. More than he could ever repay. But he would spend the rest of his life trying.