Hot Gingerbread and Dynamite: Prologue
Love and marriage walk hand in hand, but not necessarily side by side, and certainly not in that order: not for these two.
Mai had always known, with a strangely vague sense of certainty, that her life would be devoted to serving the Fire Nation. "It's a woman's duty," her mother had said once, a small lifetime ago, "and her greatest pleasure: to serve her husband and her country in whatever way is asked of her. And you, my darling, are a very lucky girl. You're going to be asked to marry the Prince. You're going to be Fire Lady one day."
That had been before Ozai had lost his mind – no one said so much, of course, because they were all tired of war and they wanted the victory so very badly – and sent his son into exile. Mai's family had moved away from the capitol soon after the Fire Lady's mysterious death – at her mother's near-hysterical urging – and she hadn't been in the city during Zuko's Agni Kai. When she'd heard the story, she had cried: she'd liked Zuko. He'd always tried to stand up to Azula on her or Ty Lee's behalf whenever the princess was feeling vicious. He'd smiled at her from time to time, and once, when they'd both thought no one was looking, he'd agreed to hold her hand as they'd stood by the koi pond – she had seen her parents holding hands once, and had suggested they try it to find out what all the fuss was about.
Then her mother had begun to ask about her friendship with the princess. Were they still speaking? Had she received any letters recently? Would she like to go visit?
And Mai began to understand that now it would be her duty to serve the princess: to aid and obey without question, to offer counsel and companionship. It wasn't an unpleasant prospect. Azula had always brought a measure of urgency and excitement to Mai's life that she had been unable to find anywhere else in her seemingly drab world. She liked the Fire Princess' spunk; her self-assuredness, the sheer brass she'd always had when giving orders and talking down to her inferiors. Only her friends and her father were ever spared the barbs – and even then, Mai and Ty Lee were sometimes made targets when she was displeased with them. Mai knew that she amused Azula: something about her bleak outlook and dry wit had always tickled the princess.
So life had gone on, and Mai had lived it the only way she knew how: by detaching from it. She had feigned indifference at first, but the act had eventually become so natural that it hadn't been an act – and for a good long while she'd stopped caring about virtually everything.
When she'd started caring again, and reattached herself, she'd found her world was changing drastically, shifting under her feet as a chasm split open and victory for the Fire Nation no longer meant winning the war. She'd had to make a choice.
She had yet to be sure whether she'd made the right one.
The red wedding veil was heavy, hung with golden ornaments from every stitch of the hem, and so thick she couldn't see through it except to peak out it's edge at her slippered feet as she was shuffled – by Ty Lee on one arm and her mother on the other - from the temple to the spacious bedchambers occupied by the Fire Lord. Her own were down the hall, but she would share his for the next few days.
They wished her well, with giggles and tears respectively, and then left her alone to serve her husband and her country in the way that had been asked of her.
She pulled the veil off, knowing instinctively that Zuko wouldn't have the temerity to do it himself when he finally showed up. His hands had been shaking when they'd clasped hers high over the sacred fire that was part of the marriage rite. She'd been unnaturally still.
Now she felt weak at the knees.
Suddenly, she found that sitting still on the bed was much too passive, but she couldn't think of any action that would feel right. She wasn't going to sneak out and run back to her own rooms like a scared little girl, but she certainly wasn't going to undress – though she did have some spectacular underthings on (lots of red silk and lace) – and sprawl provocatively across the bed. She settled for twiddling her thumbs and counting to a hundred.
She'd counted to a hundred six and a half times when Zuko finally knocked – and it was the fact that he knocked that soured her mood.
He had spent his youth in exile, determined to a fault to accomplish a goal most believed impossible; he had lived as a fugitive for months on end, hiding from his sister in anonymity and from the earthbenders in their own country; he had faced off against the Avatar, his countrymen, and his own family before finally taking control of something the whole world had tried to deny him. He was the Fire Lord!
And he didn't have the courage to enter his own bedroom just because she happened to be in his bed?
She appreciated the respect, but there was a point where respect turned into the niggling suspicion that your betrothed – your husband – didn't find you attractive and was trying to keep it secret as long as possible.
Mai had finally reached that point. Zuko knocked again and she beat back the urge to sigh; she'd become very good at beating back those urges over the years.
The door creaked open, and Zuko stuck his head in, peering around wearily as if some small part of him expected her to be undressed. She wondered if that small part of him was intrigued or repulsed.
When he saw her sitting on the bed, straight as a pin, wearing a slightly more optimistic version of her usual bored scowl but bereft of the veil – for which he was grateful – he relaxed enough to take a step into the room. He closed the door behind himself and leaned against it, hands hanging uselessly by his sides. He turned his head toward the room's only window to give the darkened sky a cursory glance, and then settled for staring uncomfortably at his boots.
Women had always made Zuko unnecessarily nervous. It seemed that, simply by being shaped differently, they were able to reduce him to a pile of awkward, gibbering bones, or turn him into a complete ass, depending solely on the nature of their relationship. Mai was able to do both and she left a churning, roiling, sickeningly sweet feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It didn't help that the gaze she'd been throwing him seemed almost imploring, though it could have been his overactive imagination – something else she inspired in him that no one else seemed capable of.
He took a deep, calming breath. When he could bring himself to look at Mai again, the tiny smile flitting across her pretty mouth helped to ease his nerves; however, it did nothing for his heart, which was clattering against his ribcage, demanding to be set free.
He pushed away from the door, and made his way to the bed.
AN: Omigod, Jo, are you crazy?! ANOTHER chaptered fic? You have sooooooo many unfinished ones! Yeah, I know, so sue me... what can I say? Whan inpsiration knocks, u don't leave her at the door because the hour is wrong. So, the beginning of what is sure to be a long-winded, slow-to-be-updated, silly, sugar-coated Maiko fic. Isn't it glorious?