Chapter Text
Zuko has made the trek to the catacombs underneath the palace countless times, and yet, it’s only now that the long walk past mausoleums, tombstones, and gravesites of Fire Lords past, and other royal figures, doesn’t make him feel uneasy, although he’s sure that has more to do with the baby strapped against his chest than anything else.
Akna stirs, gurgling, and Zuko places a palm on her back, perpetually heated just right for his baby girl, a princess, who has healed something in him that he didn’t even know was broken. Even through the blanket he covered her with – one of Azula’s things left over from her own infanthood, pale yellow with turtleducks and lilypads, she can feel the presence of her father, his warmth, and soon, she’s sound asleep again, tiny fists resting underneath her face. “Shh.” He soothes, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead through thick curls.
She still wasn’t quite old enough yet for all the beads, bows, and hairclips Katara was itching to put into her hair, worried that she'd put them in her mouth and choke on them because she was at the age where everything was edible in her baby mind, so they settled for headbands and tiny little tiaras. He could only complain so much whenever a new one popped up in the nursery, organized by color, then by outfit, because it was partially his fault their daughter had so many in the first place.
Having a girl was fun. While Katara handled the feedings and pediatric cardiology visits (although, he hasn't missed an appointment yet), he took care of the baths, diapers, and outfit changes, the latter becoming a thing. His wife walked in on him many times, asking their daughter what she would like to wear as if she could respond to him.
***
“Don’t worry about what my daughter and I are doing, Katara. We have a connection. She understands me. Besides, no one is going to take her seriously if she isn’t wearing any clothes."
“You take me seriously when I’m not wearing clothes."
“In the bedroom. Not in public.”
“We’ve had sex in the throne room. Several times.”
“Yes, we have, and I was the one half-naked and undignified."
“And I took you seriously, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, yeah, so seriously, you got pregnant with Kai, what’s your point? You carried her for 9 months, and I can’t even have a little daddy-daughter time.”
***
It was a regular occurence now for his wife to walk into the throne room or meeting hall and place Akna in his arms without saying anything. She didn’t have to, especially when their daughter made it known that she was mid-poop by grunting and scrunching her face. Lu Ten called it her concentration face, commenting that he looked the same way when he’s “taking a shit” and even though it wasn’t nearly as cute as when their sister did it, and his son really should consider eating more fiber, he couldn’t help but laugh that he’s the Fire Lord and when he’s not presiding over a council or leading the military, he was listening to his sons crack jokes about their bowel movements and changing diapers.
And Katara was all too eager to announce that Zuko is better at it than she is because she’s never really had to. Zuko would quietly excuse himself with a smile “I have to go change my daughter” and then, he went to his office, which now doubled as a changing area because it was closer than their bedroom, and when he came back, all was well again with Akna chewing on his collar and pulling his hair.
Under his guidance, the armed forces shifted to a more helpful role, providing aid during natural disasters, building free housing, and maintaining peace, with only the strongest and best working alongside the Kyoshi Warriors to track down any war criminals that were still in hiding.
“We’re almost there, turtleduck.”
When she was only a few months along in her pregnancy, Katara mentioned that they used to call Tulok their little papaya, a reference to his size at the time, so, she wanted a cute nickname for their last baby. At her next appointment, her midwife said the fetus was the size of a baby turtleduck, claiming that animal references were more accurate to describe what the mother was feeling in the womb, and it stuck.
Zuko reaches the end of the catacombs and presses a hand against the moss growing along the wall, feeling around.
“There it is.” He whispers. He steps back, taking a deep breath to calm and center himself, and then he generates a small charge of lightning, just enough to activate the lock, and the door slides open, creaking with the sound of wear and tear.
He smiles, but it’s bittersweet.
Zuko was able to lightning-bend now, a reflection of his growth and maturity, but he still had never been able to master it and do it seamlessly.
Zuko sighs and starts the ascent up the stairs. He holds Akna tighter to his chest, speaking softly. “Today is your Aunt Azula’s birthday.” He whispers. “She would’ve been 46 today.” He tries not to focus too much on the fact that it's his wife's age, and instead, looks back and forth between the walls. “You see these flowers?” Zuko reaches out and touches one. “They’re called fire lilies. They resemble tongues of flame.” He chuckles a bit. “They’re also toxic and poisonous.” He sighs heavily. “But with a little love and care, they can bloom year after year.”
With the help of Toph and Fire Nation engineers, the walls were made from rammed earth construction, allowing plants to grow in the pockets of soil, while the drainage system funneled just enough water.
It was considered a stunning architectural feat – and yet, for him, it was heartbreaking, merely born out of a desire to ensure his sister’s final resting place gave her something she never had– a safe space.
His voice takes on a more somber tone as he reaches the top of the stairs. Stepping into the room, he bites the inside of his cheek, taking it all in. It was the only place in the catacombs where fire wasn't needed to illuminate the room, sunlight streaming in through the glass ceiling. When some advisors argued that she had to be buried in the respectable places for Fire Nation Royals, he didn’t hide his grief and anger when he demanded otherwise, reminding them that because of a certain Fire Nation Royal that shall not be named, Azula was unfit to rule anyway.
(He still wasn't sure if he was too weak to kill his father when he had a chance, when he visited him in prison to tell him his daughter was dead because she left it in her note that she was sorry for being so scared, for not being enough for him, and Ozai couldn't even fake being upset "You could at least be man enough to fucking pretend to care!" He yelled through hot tears, or too strong).
He didn’t even want to be laid to rest there. If, for some sick reason, he managed to outlive his wife – it was well understood that the Fire Lord would go wherever the sea takes him.
But, he was hoping that the Gods don’t do that to him, because he’s not ashamed to admit that Katara would probably handle his death much better than he’d handle hers.
Some of the greatest Fire Nation warriors engaged in hara-kiri. The world would be okay and learn to move on but he wasn't sure he could.
Zuko looks down at his daughter. “Your aunt, my sister, little sister,” He swallows thickly as tears well up in the corner of his eyes. “Didn’t get a lot of that when we were kids. Neither did I but-“ He gulps. “At least I had our mom and your Uncle Iroh. Azula-“ Zuko shakes his head. “She didn’t have anybody, and for a very long time- “He walks towards the platform in the middle of the room. There, in an ornately decorated flower vase, growing from her ashes, was a bouquet of yellow gladioli and white lilies.
Gladiolas were considered traditional flowers of remembrance, whereas white lilies were said to restore the innocence of the departed.
“I blamed myself. I’ve done so many great things as Fire Lord, and yet, I couldn’t fix her.” He’s crying now, with hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “Agni knows, I tried.”
Zuko reaches out and places a hand on the side of the vase. “I’m not here to tell you I’m sorry, sis. I know you’re tired of hearing me apologize for the same shit.” He shakes his head. “And I’m not here to bore you with any more of our uncle’s parables and riddles either, although that’s mostly because he’s dead.”
"You know, I can lightning bend now. But I don't do it much." Zuko frowns. "It'll always be your thing."
He takes Akna out of the wrap, holding her in his arms. “You’d be happy to know that I did do exactly what you said was going to happen.” He softens his voice in an attempt to mimic Azula’s signature, scratchy drawl. One day, she called him Zuzu for the last time, and he didn’t think it would hurt as much as it did. “You couldn’t pull out if you tried; you’re going to trap Katara with another one of your offspring when it’s all dried up and shooting dust.”
Zuko smiles. “We have a daughter now. I have a daughter now. Akna. Named after the Southern Water Tribe childbirth and fertility goddess." He laughs. "And she’s all Katara from her looks to her personality-“He pauses. “But she has your smile. You should’ve seen the way I sobbed when I saw it for the first time. Don’t worry, my wife called me a sappy dork for you.” He lowers Akna towards the vase and the baby sticks a hand in her mouth, drooling over her fingers. Then, she reaches forward and smacks the vase, leaving traces of sticky saliva that smells like breastmilk and mashed tomato carrots on it and he can pratically hear Azula complain that babies are fucking disgusting, a sentiment she shared when Tulok had a blowout.
He grins, beaming, and soon, he’s laughing and crying at the same time. “And apparently, your thirst for violence.” Zuko brings his daughter back closer towards him. "Are you saying hi to your auntie?" He nuzzles his nose against her face. "You're so sweet." Then, he kneels down and places a kiss on the vase. “Happy birthday, sis. I promise I’m going to do it right this time.”
Akna shrieks, clapping her hands, and he smiles, blowing raspberries into her cheek, which makes her giggle and babble even harder.
Somewhere, in the distance, he hears a voice whisper.
“You already are.”