I apologize for this taking so long. I totally realize that most of you probably have given up on me, but I appreciate that you've taken the time to read what I've written. It has been a learning process for me, and I am grateful for every hit, reader, and review.

That said, please enjoy!
Karynna


A thick wooden door separated Iroh from his wife, but he could still hear the groans and curses that sporadically erupted from his wife. The Fire Lady had all but shoved Iroh out of the bedroom turned birthing room long ago, and he now sat anxiously on the floor outside, watching the sun out the hallway window.

The cold winter sky had long since surrendered to the rich light of the sun. Iroh could see the waves sparkle as they crashed against the rocky shore. He had planned on taking Zania down to the beach early this morning before all the ceremonial hoopla started, but obviously, plans had changed. He smiled as he realized that their next beach trip would likely be a trip for three.

Sounds of the temple's residents awakening filtered through Iza's moaning to reach the prince's ears, and he could hear the excitement flowing through the people as news of Iza's labor spread. For a brief moment, Iroh regretted his position and its lack of privacy, but as he had never really known anonymity, he decided that there was no point in missing it.

The few nobles who had made the trip out for the solstice ceremony were now walking toward Iroh. Iroh reluctantly stood to greet them, finding himself wishing that they had come for the sake of a child's birth instead of the scheming lure of politics.

"I am surprised hear your wife has gone into labor, Prince Iroh," said the eldest of the men after they had bowed. "Forgive me, my Lord, for I am not good with keeping track of these sort of things, but I had thought that she was due to give birth nearly two months from now."

Iroh nodded, still staring out the window and straining to hear what was happening in the birthing room.

The nobleman's wife tutted at Iroh's response, crooning, "I certainly hope that nothing's wrong, my Lord. We all hope for a healthy delivery, of course, but the timing is quite alarming. Has everything been going well for our dear princess?"

"Now now," said one of the other women. "Some babies just aren't patient enough to wait; there's nothing wrong with that."

Iroh muttered some sort of response, grateful for the woman's intervention. He winced as he heard his wife again, wishing not for the first time that he could be with her, supporting her with his love, welcoming their child together. But childbirth was a woman's arena, and Iroh was banished out here, surrounded by petty scheming nobles and the lonely echoes of the corridor, staring out the window and waiting.

The sudden rushing noise of people moving aside and murmuring reverent greetings announced the presence of the Fire Lord, but Iroh didn't turn until Azulon placed a hand on his shoulder. Iroh turned and inclined his head, pointed looking past his father to the door which hid his wife.

"Father."

"Has the child come yet?" asked Azulon, his voice barely masking his disappointment and disdain.

"No."

"I see," the Fire Lord replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Then I shall expect your presence at the noon ceremony."

Iroh looked at his father, his voice a whisper. "Dad..."

But the Fire Lord had already turned and walked away, leaving the cluster of nobles to resume their conversation, politely ignoring what had just happened.


Zania could feel every muscle in her body tense and strain; even her toes hurt. She tried to focus on something else, tried counting the number of women in the room, tried to imagine what Iroh was doing, but nothing could distract her from how completely worn out she was. She had lost track of time, but it seemed that Iza had been in here for years, centuries even.

Ila stood in the corner, whispering with the midwife. The Fire Lady noticed that Iza was watching her and smiled reassuringly, as if that would erase all of Zania's worry. She started to speak up, to ask what the whispers were about, but a now familiar pain came over her and she began another contraction.

One of the doulas beside her grabbed her hand and started to murmur encouragement about breathing evenly and purposefully, but Zania's breath came out in ragged groans, almost like a drawn out sigh. Her body quaked with the effort, but when the pain had passed it seemed that she had accomplished nothing.

Her breathing was more natural now, if a bit heavy. Iza was tired, purely exhausted. Somewhere in the middle of the pain, Ila had appeared at her side and brushed the hair out of Iza's face.

"Would you like some water, dear?" she asked. Iza envied her calm; Zania envied her knowledge.

Zania nodded, joking, "What I want is to be out of here!" She chuckled weakly, too tired to really laugh. "How long has it been?"

A guarded look stole over Ila's face before she answered. "The noon ceremony just started, so it's been about seven hours."

Iza closed her eyes. Seven hours. "Is that…normal?"

"It's a little long, but not unheard of, especially for a firstborn." A few of the women in the room nodded. "Nothing to be concerned about."

A servant handed Iza a glass of water. "Anything else, Lady?"

Iza shook her head no as she handed the glass to Ila, feeling the beginnings of another round of pain. She grit her teeth, determined to feel past the pain this time. As she focused, she felt a shudder run through her body, head to toe. It ended slowly, painfully, with a sickening finality.

Zania's heart began to ache. She knew that she was early, that few babies survived this early. She tried not to think about what would happen if she lost the baby; the Fire Lord had already made it clear that nothing less than a healthy grandchild would appease him. Her breathing hitched again as she fought back a sob and her eyes fluttered as they held tears back.

Ila looked at her with concern, but nothing needed to be said. Every woman in the room could sense the building anxiety and the burning questions.


Marble floors were not made for kneeling, and it hadn't taken much time for Iroh to figure it out. His shins felt like they would splinter against the hard surface, but the ceremony was far from over.

Iroh tried to concentrate as the Fire Lord droned on in prayers and blessings and supplications for blessings and offerings and promises of peace to the statue of the Avatar, but neither the prince nor Roku heard any of it. Iroh's mind was far away, standing outside a wooden door and waiting with mixed joy and worry. He didn't think that childbirth took this long, though he knew not to trust his own knowledge as expert.

An uncomfortable pause in the room brought Iroh back to the hard floor and apparently interrupted endless droning. He swallowed as he tried to remember the words he was supposed to recite now, but his mouth went dry as his mind went blank.

"As the sun illuminates the sky, we wish to illuminate the world with progress and unity," Ozai began, covering for his brother. "We ask you, as the intercessory between our world and the Spirits, to bless our crusade for universal prosperity and enlightenment. May the generations that follow sing our praises and reap the rewards of our work."

Iroh stole a look at his brother, gratitude in his smile, but Ozai was looking straight ahead at the statue, a self-pleased smirk on his face. Azulon caught his eye, though, glaring with a storm in his eyes. Iroh hung his head respectfully, staring at the floor as the Fire Lord finished the rite with a ringing voice and pretentious prayers.

The men in the room left solemnly, the weight of ceremony still on their shoulders. It took everything Iroh had to not run down the corridors, tearing his way to his wife. But Iroh restrained himself, denying his instinct as he followed his father down the hallway toward where Iza was. Azulon seemed to deliberately keep the pace slow and measured.

When they finally reached the end of their walk, Iroh again found himself separated from Zania. Azulon motioned for a servant to knock on the door and announce the arrival of the royal men. The door opened a crack that Iroh could just barely see Iza through. Their eyes met and Zania smiled, plainly exhausted. Even drenched with sweat and pale as snow, she was the most beautiful thing Iroh had ever seen.

Ila came out of the room to greet her husband and sons, bearing no new news. She shut the door behind her, serenely explaining false labor and how it happens often enough, nothing to worry about. Iroh heard little of it; he was still staring at the door, hoping it would open again just so he could see her. He couldn't imagine what she was experiencing, the mixed emotions of going through labor for nothing.

His mother had a calming hand on her husband's shoulder, subtly holding him back, as she continued on about how most false labor babies ended up quite healthy and strong, they just needed to be patient and wait for the real thing. Iroh didn't know if it was true, and he didn't care if Ila was making the whole thing up. When it seemed she had finished talking, Iroh cut in, daring to ask before he lost the nerve.

"Can I see her? I mean, if it's not really labor, then is it okay for me to be there with her?"

The Fire Lady smiled tightly, her lips trying to force back her assent. She didn't want to tell him that Zaina had already lost too much blood, that he should remember her as the strong woman she was, not the weak thing that was lying in that bed. She wanted to keep up appearances for Azulon, to help Iza seem worthy of her rank. But she couldn't deny her son, with his pleading eyes and open heart. "Yes, go ahead."

Iroh held his composure together long enough to bow to his father, brother, and mother before hastily going to the door. He opened it to find a room full of women, some bouncing from place to place, some gently rubbing Zania's shoulders, some standing in a corner and talking quietly. All of their activity seemed to pause as he entered, but when Ila followed him through the door, they resumed.

He zeroed in on the only thing that mattered in the room, taking the place of one of the doulas as he held his wife's hand and kissed her gently. She felt so hot against his lips, and her skin was so chalky white when it should have been blossoming with exertion.

"Good to see you," she said softly, smiling. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten me. I'm only your wife, after all."

He smiled back. She was joking. That was good. "There were just so many other things to attend to, dear. You know, duels, cabbages, imaginary beasts of burden. Stuff like that."

She laughed quietly, her tired eyes looking lovingly into his. Iroh watched as they slowly drifted shut; Zania had to be so tired. He brushed hair back from her face, cherishing the feel of her skin, damp and clammy as it was.

It was a few minutes later that it struck Iroh how odd it would be for a woman to fall asleep during labor, real or false. He scanned the room for his mother, who had found a place in the corner with a graying woman with an authoritative, but good natured countenance. Iroh vaguely recognized her as the midwife.

The women paused their whispered conversation, taking note of the sleeping woman in the center of the room. A strange look stole over their faces before they forced smiles. The midwife immediately took charge, sweeping the other women out of the room before examining Iza. She pursed her lips and walked around the sleeping princess.

"She needs to rest," she muttered. "She hasn't had a contraction in half an hour, so it's probably safe to say that this is over with for now. I'll stay near."

Ila nodded, briefly touching her hand on the woman's shoulder. "Thank you."

The woman left, and Iroh found himself alone with his mother and wife. He peered into the Fire Lady's face, trying to read the mix of emotions he found there. "Mom?"

She smiled, her eyes tight and her voice hesitant. "It's over for now, darling." She walked up behind her son, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Iroh, Iza's not well. She lost a lot of blood today. She's going to be weak for a while, and it's likely that when the baby does come…"

Iroh tensed. He didn't want to hear whatever it was that she was trying to stay. "She'll be fine, Mom."

He heard a sigh as his mother's hands caressed him one last time before she kissed him on the top of his head. "Of course she will." She started to walk back toward the door, looking back at her son and daughter-in-law. "Get some rest, the sunset ceremony will be around soon enough, and I doubt your father will let you miss this one either."

Iroh nodded and his mother left. He looked at Zania, who still held fast to his hand. Ever so gently, he climbed into bed beside her, cradling her to himself. Zania fit so well against the lines of his body, with her head on his chest, hair spilling everywhere. He smiled at the feeling; if Iroh had ever believed in a soulmate, it was in moments like these.

He held as tightly to his wife as he dared, careful not to wake or break her. He stared out into the darkness, trying to erase what his mother had said, and what she had not said.