Maiko 100: Prompt #33: Comfort
In Times of Sorrow
When he received the news of Iroh's death, fifteen years after the end of the war that had crippled the world for one hundred years, Fire Lord Zuko didn't rant or rave or break down or cry. He refused to believe it, despite the characters there before him in dramatic black ink. He got up from his office chair and strode purposefully through the palace in search of Mai. His heavy winter formal robes flapped behind him and his face wore a look of bemusement.
'Some people would do anything for a joke, no matter how sick,' he thought to himself as he finally reached the residential wing where Mai and their four children usually spent the late afternoon together.
"Ah, there's your father," Mai declared and threw her husband a warm smile.
The children gathered around Zuko, giving hugs and telling stories about their days, voices competing with each other.
"One at a time," Mai ordered sternly. "No one can understand what you're saying."
"Okay," said the oldest. "I'm first."
The four took turns, Zuko listening intently to each one. When the youngest finished, he ushered them off to their own rooms, insisting that he needed to speak alone with their mother.
"I'll see you all at dinner," he said happily as the last child shut the door behind her.
"So, what's up?" Mai asked.
Zuko sat beside Mai on the sofa and gave her a kiss before answering.
"I just received this letter. Can you believe it?"
"Well, since I haven't read it, no," Mai replied hesitantly.
"Oh, right," Zuko replied and handed her the scroll.
She scanned the words quickly, and then looked at Zuko, her gold eyes filled with infrequent tears.
"Wait," Zuko said. "What's wrong with you? Do you actually believe the word of a tea shop worker? Do you actually believe that my Uncle Iroh is dead?"
"Yes, Zuko, I do," she replied softly and took him into her arms.
"It can't be true. We saw him three weeks ago and he looked great. He's not supposed to die. He's not supposed to leave me behind. He's, he's 'Uncle'."
He was sobbing into her shoulder now, his Mai, the one person who could comfort him when nothing else and no one else could. Her word was enough for him and her belief in the letter was all he needed to believe too. And it hurt, far beyond anything else in his life ever had. But her hand in his hair, stroking and soothing, her whispered words, words she spoke through her own intense grief and the very feel and smell of her made it almost bearable.