He remembered plenty of instances of people trying to take his life. He remembered one man actually had gotten pretty close, getting an arrow through his torso. He also vaguely recollected the faint sounds of Sokka, Aang, and Toph's panicked screams of horror at the sound of his pained moans and the gasps, screams and some crying at the sight of his bloody, light-breathing body on the floor. The last he heard was the desperate calls for Katara before he blacked out. Next thing he knew, he awoke to to his wife kneeling at his bedside, asleep, clasping his hand, and his uncle biting at his fingernails while wide awake in anxiety at his other side, and all of his best friends worriedly sleeping against the wall of his bedroom, keeping close. He had Katara to thank for his life that night, like many others, they all did. This time was different though, it was a more subtle approach at killing him: poisoning his tea. But they hadn't gotten their target, the Fire Lord. And, this time no one was around, no Katara, no Uncle, no anyone. And, they had not killed him, they had killed the love of his life, his wife, his precious, gorgeous Mai.
Every morning, Zuko would wake up at the crack of dawn, he needed to in order to fulfill all of his daily duties. To keep this chore of crawling out of bed before the sun less tortuous, Mai would wake with him each and every day. They'd sit by the porch and stare off into the sea's horizon and watch the sun rise together. They'd watch the sun set often as teens, and the sunset seemed even more beautiful as it symbolized a new day, a new dawn, a fresh start, a new opportunity to carpe diem. As they'd watch the sunrise, Zuko would have a servant bring them each a cup of tea to sip as they watched it. Mai liked the white lily tea, and although she'd sooner die than admit it, she liked the white roses Zuko would put in a vase on their café table on the veranda. The tea woke Zuko up and it calmed Mai down. This was their time, and they got such little time together between everything. It was their time to talk, to vent, to enjoy each other's company before he crawled down to his dungeon to file papers, or flew off to a different country to negotiate or did some campaigning. So they both cherished those moments, though they'd never say it aloud.
But Zuko's fatal mistake lied in not being there that morning, and that was what he'd never forgive himself for. He didn't go to bed at all that night, the edict's deadline was that morning at 7 am, sharp and on the dot. He needed to pass it, it ensured international security, it was important. So Zuko pulled an all-nighter, ruffling and scrummaging through the stack of papers, scrutinizing each page and placing his John Hancock at the bottom of each one. When the deadline came creeping in closer, Zuko finally completed the documents, and he came trudging up the stairs, his eyelids barely being able to keep themselves open from all the eyestrain. He was used to sleepless nights. Zuko finally creaked open his bedroom door, he saw Mai lying in bed still, but she was fully clad in her daytime apparel. Zuko plopped beside her, stroking her bangs from her face and planting a kiss on her forehead, as her eyes lightly and feebly fluttered open. Mai cupped his cheek weakly.
"Zuko," She muttered weakly, she had the white roses clenched in her hands, and the thorns pricked her lightly, so she had spots of blood on her fingers.
"Are you okay, Mai?" Zuko asked in concern, stroking her hair lovingly, "You look sort of pale."
"Zuko, listen to me," Mai began as Zuko stood up and walked over to the balcony, picking up the tray with the tea on it, "Zuko!" Mai cried, with all the strength she had left, startling him, causing him to drop the tray and teacup in alarm as he raced back over.
"What is it? Do I get the doctor? What's the matter?" Zuko cried, holding her hands.
"Don't drink it, it-it's poisoned," She muttered, gasping for breath, as Zuko's eyes widened and his heart sunk.
"...How...How do you know?" Zuko asked, already knowing the answer, but refusing to accept it.
"I drank it," Mai stated as a tear slid off of her husband's face, "I don't know if it was the server or someone in the kitchen, but they wanted you dead, Zuko."
"No," Zuko cried, shaking his head in denial, "Mai."
"Be careful, Zuko, people are out for you. They're sick, and they have it out for you," Mai croaked out. Zuko pulled her close, kissing her face.
"Mai, I'll get the doctor, then I'll call Katara, I-" Zuko began to mutter.
"No, Zuko, it's too late, it's a fatal poison, I can hardly breathe, Zuko," Mai struggled out and Zuko choked out a sob, holding her tighter.
"Mai, no," Zuko pleaded.
"It's alright, Zuko. It's good that I was here and I drank it, we'd both be dying, it's good I drank it instead of you, I'm so happy you're okay, Zuko, the world needs you," Mai explained, hugging him tightly as he still held her, hovering over as she ran her weak hands through his scruffy hair.
"No, it should have been me, you were never meant to die. I'm the Fire Lord, it was for me," Zuko cried desperately, "It's not fair!"
"It is," Mai spoke gently, "I do love you, Zuko, I do, so very much, I love you."
"Mai, I love you too, I love you more than anything, Mai! Please don't leave me, please," Zuko begged, squeezing her, afraid to let go as she grew weaker, he was weeping now in fear and distress. Mai grew a slim grin on her feeble, paisley face.
"I saw the sunrise..." Mai spoke, a snicker then, "Orange is still an awful color." Mai uttered, then her eyelids fluttered shut, and she was gone. Zuko cried, and cried, and screamed, and cursed, and ached. He would be lost, she was the one who guided him, who kept him sane amidst his political mess of a life, who stood beside him through thick and thin, for better for worse. And, through her dour remarks, she lit up his life, and now it was dark again. He knew she always said that only stupid girls liked dumb, romantic genstures, but he knew she loved the white lily tea every morning, and he knew she loved the white roses he set out in a vase each day on their special table. And, he went out to her grave every morning and sat by it each day watching the sunrise, drinking white lily tea and setting out white roses for his beloved.