A/N: This is a sort of random piece of fluff I wrote in honour of Father's Day.

The Education of Miyako's Father

It had done nothing but rain for the past week. And it wasn't simply a persistent drizzle, it was sheets of rain that fell continually from an angry looking black sky. The palace gardens looked more like a swamp. Flower beds were flooded and the turtleduck pond was now a turtleduck lake. Mai liked rain as much as the next person. In fact, a good, gloomy looking day was quite appealing to her. But even she was longing for the sun now. Enough was enough.

"I'm beginning to wonder if Miyako will ever see the sun. This," she pointed to the window and scowled as the shutters rattled and another torrent of water hit the panes of glass, "is ridiculous."

Zuko was standing in the pool of warm yellow light made from the bathroom lanterns. He scrubbed his hair dry with a towel, tossed it aside and then reached for his sleep pants. "I'm a firebender. How do you think I feel?"

"Oh, well, excuse me; I know that you firebenders are special, far more important than ordinary people like me. You'd better hope that our daughter is a bender too."

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it." The Fire Lord retreated back into the bathroom and slammed the door.

"Jerk," Mai muttered and then looked over at their newborn, just six days old and lying beside Mai in the bed, sound asleep. Her features softened immediately and she placed a gentle hand on Miyako's belly. "Your father can be a bit of a handful at times. Maybe when you get older, you can help me keep him in line. What do you say?" There was nothing but the noise of quiet breathing from Miyako. "Not taking sides; I can respect that." Mai giggled then and lay back against the pillows.

The Fire Lady was beyond tired. No one had told her just how exhausting looking after a newborn would be. Oh, people had hinted; Iroh had told stories of sleepless nights with Lu Ten and Hakoda had told stories of non-stop wailing from Sokka. But nothing could have prepared Mai for the reality, the overwhelming responsibility and the sense of panic that sometimes gripped her. Part of her wanted to just hand Miyako over to a wet nurse and a nanny, look in on her only when she felt like it, leave the mess with someone else. Then she felt guilty for having those thoughts. That was what nobles traditionally did. Mai could recall that from her own childhood. But she refused to follow the same path that her mother and father had. There was no real bond between Mai and her parents, no real sense of love. Her daughter would have that. Her family would be different, no matter how much it killed her.

Zuko got over his pout and emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later. He slid under the covers, gave Mai a kiss, glanced nervously at Miyako and went to sleep.

"Well, little girl," Mai whispered as she picked up the infant, slid out of bed and placed her in the bassinet, "I'm going to have to work on your Daddy tomorrow. This is getting ridiculous too."

The rain continued into the following morning, making a sound like a thousand drums on the roof of the palace. It was sort of a soothing noise and after more than a week, everyone had grown accustomed to it. The rain simply blended into the background now. With no bright sun to awaken his inner fire, Zuko twisted and turned beneath the top sheet, hovering somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. A sharp jab in the ribs from Mai's elbow ended the hovering. He was completely awake now.

"Ow, why did you do that? I was sleeping." He lowered his face into the red silk covered pillow and groaned.

"No you weren't; and what happened to rising with the sun? I know you can't see it but it's still there, so get up. I was up three times last night feeding and changing Miyako. What did you do?"

Zuko raised his head and looked at her sheepishly. "Nothing, but you're the only one who can feed her. What do you want me to do?"

"You could help, for one; hold her for awhile, sit with her in the chair, change her diaper while I go back to sleep. Look, Zuko, I know that you're scared, but you need to jump in some time and start being a father. She won't be a newborn forever. Agni, she won't be a baby forever." Mai ran a hand through Zuko's rumpled brown hair and kissed his cheek. "Come on, get up; you're starting now."

His body stiffened and a look of raw terror entered his expressive gold eyes. "I'm petrified, Mai."

"You will be fine. I promise you that." With those parting words, she pulled on her robe and left their rooms, heading for the kitchen and a nice cup of tea followed by a little time in the library with a book. Mai didn't look back.

As if sensing her father's fear and the absence of her mother's more calming presence, Miyako began to cry. It started as a sort of soft hiccoughing noise but soon turned into a full blown piercing sort of cry that tore at Zuko's heart. Sighing, he pushed back the sheet and swung his legs over the side of the bed, letting his feet rest on the cozy carpet for a moment before standing.

"I'm coming," he called in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

Standing over her bassinet, Zuko looked down at Miyako and was struck by her beauty. Even with her eyes screwed shut tight and her little fists waving in the air, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen besides Mai. He closed his eyes too for a moment, trying to gather his courage, breathing in and out evenly as if trying to attain a meditative state. Then with trembling hands he reached down and gathered the little girl up, holding her awkwardly out from his body for a moment before finally cradling her against his bare chest.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out softly. "You scare me more than anything else in my life ever has." He paused, gazing down at her again, wondering if his daughter was listening. "What if I hurt you? What if I do everything wrong? I don't want that for you, Miyako. You deserve so much better than what I had."

The crying continued but it was less intense now and Miyako's pale gold eyes were trained on Zuko's darker ones. Hesitantly, he trailed a finger down her chubby cheek, amazed by the softness and warmth of her skin. "You're so pretty," he murmured. "Just like your mother." More daring now, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Do you want to sit in the rocking chair with me?"

Miyako stopped crying for a moment and made a sort of cooing sound that instantly brought a smile to Zuko's face. "I guess that's your way of saying yes, then."

He moved over to the chair and sat down gingerly, not wanting to jar the infant, still sure she made from spun glass rather than flesh and bone. Zuko began to rock and soon Miyako's crying stopped completely. She seemed to nestle in closer to Zuko's chest, enjoying his warmth and his new sense of almost calm. As he rocked, something struck Zuko, and he realized that the rain had stopped.

"It's so strange not to hear the rain," he told his daughter. "I wonder if the sun will come out now."

The Fire Lord got up from the chair, still overly careful of the tiny bundle he held, and walked over to the window. Sure enough, he could see bits of sunlight poking out from behind the clouds that were finally beginning to drift away.

"Look at that, Miyako, it's the sun." He moved to the balcony, opened its doors and stepped outside. "How do you like that?" She cooed again and grabbed hold of Zuko's finger. "You like the sun, don't you?"

The feel of it on his skin was wonderful. Zuko hadn't realized just how much he had missed it the past week. The balcony was wet and so were his feet but he didn't care. He got to give his daughter her very first view of the sun. He was holding her the first time she felt its rays on her face. He smiled and held her up so she could see it better. "It's amazing, isn't it?" he whispered in her ear then held her close again.

Zuko didn't notice when Mai returned. He was curled up on a chair that he had dragged outside, Miyako contentedly gurgling on his lap. She approached from behind and wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's nice to see the sun again, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's great," Zuko replied with a soft smile. "Everything's great."