Writer's Note: Occurs post-Day of Black Sun Parts 1 and 2 and contains spoilers.
Too Much of a Bad Thing
The house was empty and her eyes felt full. All along Mai had known something like this would happen, somehow, deep down inside if she bothered to admit it, although who would ever want to admit it, and of course the question was always "when" and not "if".
But she had always thought it would be later than sooner. Zuko had always seemed so content when they were together. He seemed relaxed, smiling and happy, and for a while he seemed able to forget that his father was a bastard and his mother was missing and perhaps the world was in big trouble...
As she stood in the middle of the room, staring at the couch with blank eyes, all she could think of was how scared and confused Zuko's eyes had looked when he left the war council.
By then, he was gone already, she thought grimly. By then, he was already far away from me.
No amount of servants being bossed around would change that. No amount of jokes or tea or kissing or awkward lovemaking on the couch (or her bed or the floor or the springs) would change that, like it had those first few weeks back from Ba Sing Se.
She hated this house now. She hated everything to do with it. She hated the memories, the colours, the shining immaculate surfaces and the rich tapestries that most people would kill to get their hands on. She hated being an aristocrat, hated being a politician's daughter, and for the first time in her life she wished she was poor and desolate and able to not give a damn about anything else except for the jerk that dumped her.
She would trade it all just for one last hour with him, just so that she could tell him that she would rather be in danger at his side than safe and tucked up without him.
She flung her arm out, releasing a shower of knives. They buried themselves deep within the soft fabric of the couch, like quills in an unfortunate boar-bear's face.
It wasn't enough.
It would never be enough.
But she had to live with it. She had to deal with it. To accept it. To keep going.
She turned and fled the room, vowing never to set foot in it ever again, as long as she could help it.