Dower
By Melospiza
A/N: I don't think this makes much sense but I can't think of how to make it any better, sorry. Well, you all might like it! (for rawles)
When the moon finally slips above the outer wall of the Imperial Palace, they make their escape.
Zuko strides silently down the dark corridor, shedding three layers of robes as he goes. Mai follows in his footsteps and, knowing full well the uproar the garments will cause when found, kicks each into a shadowy corner. She too is wearing layers, and though the rustling silk is cumbersome, it is comforting as well. She keeps her silks for the same reason Zuko sheds his, and she knows this. The comfort each action offers is something that goes beyond the realm of the physical.
Together they scramble up onto the rooftop. Without speaking, they creep along the ancient beams and step lightly on the overlapping tiles, pausing from time to time to watch for activity below. Music wafts from some distant chamber, tinny and faraway. When Mai steps on the hem of her gown and slips, Zuko grabs her hand to steady her. His palm remains in hers until she finds her footing and nods assurance, and then they are off again, as silent as ghosts. Climbing the wall should not be so easy; however the guards are generally trained to watch for people trying to get in, not people trying to get out.
Against the canvas of the night sky, brilliant colors bloom again and again, accompanied by the hiss and boom of fireworks as trails of smoke rise from the river. People are out in the streets, talking, ringing bells, playing music. Mai doesn't quite know what to think of their gaiety. People will look for any excuse to celebrate, she thinks.
They settle upon one of the rooftops to watch the fireworks and catch their breath, after almost an hour of slinking and scrambling. The bursts of glittering light catch in the gold of Zuko's eyes and the gold of the threads embroidered into fantastic designs upon the vivid red of Mai's clothing. She feels utterly conspicuous, crouched and shining like a phoenix in the dark, and she wishes she'd thrown off at least a layer or two in the hall as Zuko had before she notices how he keeps glancing at her when he thinks she's not looking.
Mai slips her hands into her sleeves, but there are no knives there to grasp for comfort. All she has now is him.
"Thank you," she mumbles finally, between one barrage of fireworks and the next.
He stares toward the river and doesn't answer. She raises her voice just barely when she speaks again, thinking perhaps he didn't hear her.
"You didn't have to do this."
"I know," he says.
