Title: After the Rain
Summary: The ends of some things make for the beginning of others.
AN: This is five years after The Search and onward.
After the Rain
"Zuko, please."
"I'm just being careful."
"Your idea of careful, is suffocating me?"
It was endearing really. Charming, how after conquering months of his fear of becoming a father, he had become nothing if not , much to Mai's dismay, clingy, but, she smiles anyway, rolling her eyes as he bustles about aimlessly, taking towels and linen directly from the servants and trying to arrange them around the room on his own.
She's eight months along, and has more than grown used to his excessive doting. Instead, she helps, by casually taking the clumsily folded towels and setting them on the peak of her belly only to refold them herself.
"You could just let them do it."
"I want to learn." Zuko shrugs.
"You know how to fold, Zuko, well, mostly. Besides, we don't need those, the baby isn't here yet."
They were going off of whatever she was taught. While Zuko suggested it, Mai had all but dismissed any outside help, aside from the usual bringing of supplies and regular evaluations from the palace nurses, but there was no discussion over how their child was to be raised outside of the two of them.
Nights were quiet. And Zuko would speed as quickly as he could through meetings just to catch his wife before she slept. Usually, the effort was a failed attempt, but any hours bargained was time enough. He slips in, kicks off his boots, and peels off layers of robes, crawling in beside her as silently as he can manage without light. The real reward is the content sigh that falls from her lips as his hand slides lightly along her stomach.
"Tired?" He whispers, pressing a light kiss to her cheek.
"Shouldn't I be asking you?"
"Fair enough, but I asked first."
"I asked second." Mai smiles, and shifts, cupping his cheek. In the dark her fingers trace the line of his scar, before drawing down, along stubble and reaching the line of his jaw. "We both need rest."
It doesn't take long before she nods off again, her hand falling to the small of his chest. Still awake, Zuko lays steady, running his thumb where his hand rests. It's a peaceful silence for a moment, until it's broken by Mai's soft snores, and he stifles a laugh.
Mornings are quick and simple. To some degree. If there's time, Zuko stays for breakfast, and reads off documents on trade and treaties. "So, you want no help? You're sure?"
"Positive."
"But..."
"But? You said you wanted to learn, didn't you?" She almost chuckles as his expression shifts to something almost too determined. Instead, she narrows her eyes, "That doesn't mean overdo it."
He overdoes it. A month later and Mai almost isn't sure who's in labor. Zuko stumbles around, calling for nurse after nurse, and Mai sighs, wincing on occasion before finally making a grab for his hand.
"Sit. Please." Mai pleads, giving his fingers a light tug.
He's rendered useless after that. But through his own nerves he doesn't seem to mind. Over time, her grip on his hand tightens, and he's ushered away from the bed. There's a dizziness about him, and he grows weary and his vision blurs as her voice becomes more shrill through the end of it. He doesn't remember much after that.
There's crying when he wakes. An infant voice, and he blinks a few times as his smile grows. Mai looks beaten, exhausted while cradling the newborn, but her smile just as prideful.
"Look who's up." She coos as the child quiets and she lets her nurse, before jerking her head at her husband, and waiting for him to collect himself. "Come and see."
She's pink. Her hair is thin and soft, and the tuft is a shade of brown that he thinks will grow to match his own. Zuko settles in next to Mai, and watches their daughter's eyes wander, smiling as they seemingly lock onto his.
"What is it?" Zuko asks, quirking a brow.
"A baby, you idiot."
"No, what is it."
Mai rolls her eyes, smiling as she leans into his shoulder, careful to support the little one's head, "I know what you meant. It's a girl."
"Can I?"
"Just a moment." She nods and waits, until the baby's asleep before carefully handing her off, checking and rechecking Zuko's hold. "Mind her head, okay?"
"I got it."
Zuko treats her as if she's too fragile, with every movement carefully calculated and slow. Once he settles, he sighs, the same proud smile tugging at his lips. After that, they resort to whispers.
"I didn't think it'd be like this." Zuko starts, scooting down cautiously and resting his head on her shoulder.
"Like what?"
"So calm."
"You missed most of the action." Mai snorts.
"Oh?"
"You know, when you were passed out in the chair."
Zuko pouts, and Mai laughs harder than she thought capable.
He sits quietly as she sleeps, and when the baby wakes, he blinks with the smallest bit of uncertainty. A small, "Hey," is all he can a manage then, and the child only blinks, but he would swear for ages she smiled at him.
An hour later, he falls asleep himself, and the servants carefully take her from his arms and put her in the wicker crib draped in blankets.
When they wake, it's a small debate over names.
"Name her after your mother?"
"Saume, is hardly fitting." Mai huffs, giving him a quizzical expression.
"Just offering suggestions."
"After your mother?"
"-hardly fitting.." Zuko repeats.
"Then lets try something new. It can't be too hard, though, you're not exactly that good at being original."
"Hey!"
"Just teasing."
It takes hours and the baby remains nameless.
"Just name her after you." Zuko sighed, pressing his back into the headboard.
"Mai? I'd rather be eaten by a dragon."
"Maybe it'd make this easier. Like in the stories."
"What stories did you read?" Mai asks, curling onto her side, "sorry to say, I don't recall you ever picking up a book when we were little."
"My uncle had a habit of telling them. Since dragons were extinct, it was fun to learn about."
"-and what happened in these stories?"
Mai listens as Zuko explains, sighing between sentences before becoming more and more enthused, explaining the stories as he remembered them.
A woman and a man who had begun to live in the mountains, they were willing to farm their own crops, and did honest work, though the woman never could quite make a fire. And soon after the man died up on the peak and the plants were all she had. She was gifted with the ability to bend, but under her circumstances never acquired the skill or pension to be taught properly, and for fear of destroying her home with flames she was too timid to try. And so, hunting and food began to run scarce, winters would run cold, and so would the frost that took most of her harvest.
One day, she wandered the mountain, trying to find new places to plant seeds, hoping they would stay fertile through the frigid air. Instead, she met a dragon who claimed she could help. As part of the deal, he offered to watch over her plants and make sure they didn't freeze over in the brisk winter air, and also to teach her the ways of fire. But only on the condition that she never use the fire to harm anyone or the land.
The woman agreed and the dragon fulfilled her end of his deal, and the woman's crops were prosperous once more. many years later just before her own death, she visits the dragon to thank her for her help.
"I did what you said and never once harmed the land or any living thing in it."
The dragon gave a nod, and pressed her muzzle into the woman's chest thanking her for her cooperation. As it pulled away there was a prideful but almost sad expression. "I asked because you did it once before, and I would not allow any harm to come to this place again."
The woman furrowed her brow and the dragon turned, lightly blowing air on a small mound and brushing aside the dirt to show the cracked shells underneath. It was then the woman understood. The day the man who accompanied her died on the peak, he had been hunting for meat, and in turn harmed her only egg. At this realization the woman bowed low, and thanked the dragon again, and apologized on the man's behalf.
It was said if you travel to these mountains then you could still see the old house on its peak, and the soil is still fertile as the dragon continues to protect her home in hopes that somehow the woman would keep peace.
Mai smiles, watching as Zuko's smile widens as it used to when he was a child himself, "and what was her name?"
"They named her Kaida for being one of the first to make peace with the dragons."
"Name her that."
Zuko raises a brow, "After some woman in a children's story?"
"It's better than anything else we've come up with, and I like it."
And as if on cue, the little girl sputters and Mai takes the small gurgles as a sign of agreement.