Chapter Text
This is all Ty Lee’s fault.
Mai supposes it isn’t quite fair to heap all of the blame on Ty Lee. After all, Ty Lee likely had no idea what her actions had led to. Mai couldn’t entirely fault her for running off to the circus. She was probably having a wonderful time wherever she was, traipsing about like she was born to do.
What Mai could fault Ty Lee for was leaving without telling her. Mai would have understood. More than understood, Mai would have gone with her. Sure, becoming a circus performer wasn’t very high on Mai’s life ambitions, but it would have been better than this.
Alas, Ty Lee had disappeared without a word, and Mai had learned about it too late. By the time Ty Lee’s escape had reached Mai’s ears, Mai’s mother had already been alerted. Mai was trapped before she, too, could escape.
Now, Mai is sitting stone-faced before an army of servants, a dozen of whom are stabbing her in the head with pins to keep her long hair in place. She cannot flinch even in the slightest. There are a handful of seamstresses finishing hems and two eagle-eyed women painting Mai’s face with what feels like pounds of makeup. Mai doesn’t move, but her heart races faster with each passing minute. Her moment of reckoning is coming.
Today is her wedding day.
Mai’s mother stands on the periphery of the chaos. She looks, if not satisfied, then at least relieved. She had managed to arrange this match just in time. Mai had resisted any hint of an arranged match for years, but Ty Lee’s departure had been the final straw for Mai’s mother. She had known that had she not secured this contract, Mai would run away, too. The family name would have fallen into ruin. Certainly, this was not the match Mai’s mother had wanted for her only daughter, but a lopsided match was better than none.
Mai had had her chance to flee. Even in the final few days, when her mother had been in a frenzy of negotiation, Mai could have run away. It would have hurt to leave behind her little brother, Tom-Tom, but she would have been glad to be rid of her parents and her stifling life. Had the match been with anyone else, Mai certainly would have tried to escape. She still isn’t sure what made her stay — pity? Hope? She tries to keep this thought at bay; the idea that she could have any hope for her future is a set up for a grim disappointment.
After hours of preparation, Mai is turned out in front of the crowd of noblemen and women waiting for her under the blazing midday sun. Their eyes bore into her, but she pays them no mind. With all the work of the handmaidens, she is nothing short of perfection. With the elegant poise that has been trained into her every day of her eighteen years, Mai glides towards her husband-to-be.
She had been warned, of course, that he was very ugly. At least, that had been what Azula described; Mai had been stuck in Omashu with her family for the past several years since her father was awarded the governorship. Mai knew little of the Caldera City nobility now. She recognized some of them, but she remembered them as a child would: who would turn a blind eye when they were stealing sweets, and who would chastise them. Mai had not wanted to appear weak by asking too many details about her new husband. After all, she was going to be bound to him forever no matter what. She didn’t want Azula to poison her marriage before it even began.
Mai is surprised to find that her husband-to-be is not ugly, although the expression on his face is. There is anger there, deep and wild, and Mai feels uneasy to see it. She remembers him, of course, but the anger wasn’t there when she left. He had had a temper — all firebenders were a little hot-headed in Mai’s opinion — but it was all flash without heat. Now though… now a sense of trepidation blooms in Mai’s gut. She had not expected his fury.
She draws close to the altar. She pauses when she reaches the three stairs up to the dais where her groom and several Fire Sages preside. The volume of her skirts makes it difficult to see the stairs beneath her, and when her gaze drops to double-check her footing, a hand appears. She looks up; her husband-to-be has extended his arm to steady her. Her first instinct is to reject it — she is not some damsel in distress, she is perfectly capable of walking up some steps — but she delicately places her hand on top of his. There is a slight twittering in the crowd — how gallant the groom’s actions, how delicate the bride — and Mai knows that this was the right choice. She steals a glance up at him and her chest grows tight.
Most women of Mai’s social standing would be appalled to marry him. Mai knows her mother once tried to negotiate a match with his family long ago, but she withdrew Mai’s name after the scandal that had befallen him. It was truly an act of desperation that Mai’s mother had gone through with this deal. Mai knew that many in the crowd pitied her for having to marry such a disgraced man.
Mai, however, doesn’t hold much stock in so-called ‘honor.’ She had met plenty of her parent’s honored guests as they traveled through Omashu: generals who ruthlessly demolished villages in their path, merchants who manipulated markets for their own gain, socialites who did nothing but scheme to harm those who threatened their perceived power. Mai knew that the honor of the Fire Nation wasn’t something to be respected, although she was smart enough to never say this out loud.
If it weren’t for the scandal looming over him like a cloud, Mai knew that every woman her age would be champing at the bit to stand in her place. Azula had been dead wrong — he was not ugly at all. He was tall and angular, his features chiseled like marble. He held himself with pride despite his tarnished reputation. Now that he looked upon her with concern rather than anger, Mai wondered why anyone would be bothered by his looks. There was, of course, the scar, but Mai had seen worse. Not much worse, but still.
Prince Zuko was a sight to behold.
The Fire Sages begin, and Mai is immediately bored. She had been warned that the ceremony would be ‘traditional,’ but it seems to stretch on into eternity. The first two hours are just to commune with the spirits. There are spirits to thank, spirits to ward off, spirits to be summoned to grant blessings onto the new couple. Mai tries not to grind her teeth. There are many special blessings for her, all of them in regards to her fertility. The spirits are asked to provide her with hordes of royal babies — all prodigious firebenders, as if Mai’s lack of firebending was something to be ashamed of — and to provide Mai with the graceful, gentle countenance of a royal princess. Mai remains silent through all of this, staring ahead and thinking wistfully of stabbing each and every one of these old doddering fools.
Beyond her brief interaction with Zuko on the stairs, there is no hint of romance in the rest of the ceremony. There is much discussion of duty and loyalty and obedience, but no mention of love or even partnership. Mai is mildly relieved by this. She can keep a straight face through almost anything, but it hurts to realize she will never love or be loved by her husband. She had accepted long ago that her parents would one day marry her off — that was the fate of all noblemen and women — but there had already been a secret part of her that had wished for love. It would be nice, for once, to have someone who knew who she really was and loved her anyway.
The ceremony lasts until dusk, by which point Mai is feeling quite faint from lack of hydration and from the weight of the heavy ornaments pinned into her hair. She and Zuko light the traditional flame together — Zuko sets it alight with his hands, while Mai uses a long, dainty match — which will burn through the first night of their marriage. Tradition stated that if it blew out before the morning, the marriage could be annulled, as it was a sign that the couple would not produce any firebending children. Mai tries not to show her annoyance at this. She knows the Fire Nation values firebending over everything else, but she would like to think that her worth is more than just the ability to reheat cold tea cups.
The crowd claps politely, although it is more muted than any wedding Mai has ever attended. As she and Zuko walk in step down the aisle, Mai catches glimpses of the guests. Some look merely exhausted by the length of the spectacle, but several look pitying or smug. They feel bad for her, or they are amused by her predicament. Mai tries to ignore them, but she thinks, for the first time, she might understand the anger on Zuko’s face earlier. If this was how everyone treated him, his anger would be more than justified.
The feast is a surreal event. It’s a bit dizzying to realize that she has a husband now, but perhaps it is just lack of food that is making her feel faint. She can barely eat a single bite with the long line of nobility coming to offer their congratulations. She watches Zuko’s jaw grind furiously with each veiled remark. Most of these slights come from the fact that Azula and Ozai are circling close by. No one wants to be in trouble with the temperamental Fire Lord and Fire Princess, the former who openly loathes his son, and latter who loves to torture him. Mai knows she shouldn’t fidget, but by the tenth mocking congratulations, she is making stabbing motions under the table at each person who approaches them.
The Fire Sages call the room to attention again, this time to sing Fire Lord Ozai’s praises. The crowd ignores Mai and Zuko entirely while Ozai preens at the front of the hall. It is not lost on Mai that the two of them have been seated far from the place of honored guests, much less a newly-married couple. It works to their advantage now, both of them shoveling in as much food and drink as they can before anyone notices. It’s not very lady-like of her, but Zuko doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he retains his manners by refilling her drink and plate. When, finally, Ozai releases the crowd from his attentions, Mai’s plate looks relatively untouched. The guests comment on what a proper lady she is for this, and Mai resumes her discreet stabbing thrusts. Zuko finally seems to notice and, when no one is looking, gives her the ghost of a smile. Mai curses her weakness; a mere smile and she is blushing, although thankfully her makeup is too thick for anyone to notice.
Fortunately, firebenders are the early-to-bed sort, and the feast does not rage long into the night. Perhaps the brevity of the party is supposed to be another insult towards Zuko, but Mai cannot bring herself to care. She is exhausted, and she lets the ladies in waiting whisk her away without complaint. It is a relief to rid herself of the restrictive wedding garb and heavy jewelry. They swipe furiously at her face to remove her makeup.
Mai sighs in relief, slowly relaxing until she realizes her hair is being pinned again. Fine brushes swipe across her cheeks to add a hint of rouge to her pale skin. The handmaids start squeezing her limbs into another tight dress, this one with small ties that curve around her frame. Her stomach knots.
Her mother arrives to give her a once over.
“Do your duty, Mai,” she says.
She sweeps out of the room without a backwards glance. Mai thinks she might be sick. In her anxiety about the ceremony, she had forgotten about the wedding night. She realizes now that she has very little idea of what her ‘duty’ entails. Her mother had told her once that it would be painful, but that it happened to all women and it was necessary to submit. Mai could not think of anything more repugnant.
Her limbs grow heavy, and the ladies-in-waiting have to shove her towards the door. Like an armed guard, they escort her to Zuko’s chambers. She is told her own chambers are sealed for a week, as it is tradition that the new couple spend this early period together. Without much fanfare, she is shunted through a door and it is sealed behind her with a sinister click. She stares back at it, horror mounting with each passing second.
“Do you want some tea?”
Mai whirls around. She feels naked. She hadn’t had time to grab even the smallest of her daggers.
Zuko stands stiffly in a far corner of the room. There is a huge canopied bed at the center that Zuko seems to be pointedly avoiding. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the table before him where a steaming teapot waits.
“My uncle could not come to the wedding, but before he left, he gave me this tea,” Zuko explains, not meeting Mai’s eyes. “He said… he said it would be a good idea. To have tea with you, I mean.”
“Why?” Mai asks, failing to hide the suspicion in her voice.
Zuko flinches.
“I’m not a monster,” he says petulantly. “No matter what everyone else says. I can do things just to be nice. It’s not unheard of —“
Mai watches as his chest rises and falls more rapidly. She can hear the hurt and anger in his voice. It feels familiar to her and, without thinking, she walks towards him.
Zuko seems surprised at the movement, and finally looks up at her. He flushes slightly and quickly busies himself with pouring the tea. He serves her without looking up again.
“That bad?” she asks resignedly.
“What do you mean?”
“You won’t look at me,” Mai points out. “I didn’t get to see what they did to me before they shoved me in here. I know they put on makeup. I look ridiculous, don’t I?”
Zuko meets her eyes again, blinking in confusion.
“No, you look… you look nice.”
Mai raises an eyebrow.
“You don’t look like how I remembered,” he says with a frown.
“You haven’t seen me since I was eleven,” she points out. “You don’t exactly look the same either.”
Zuko’s hand flies to his cheek. There is a look of bitterness in his scowl.
“Not your scar,” she says, rolling her eyes in annoyance.
Zuko gives her a look of disbelief.
“You’re a lot taller now,” she shrugs.
“That’s not usually the first thing people notice about me,” Zuko says, still sounding doubtful.
“It’s not the first thing I noticed either.”
“So it was my scar —“
“You looked angry,” Mai interrupts. “That’s what I noticed first.”
There is an awkward pause.
“Aren't you angry?” Zuko asks with some hesitation. “You were forced to marry me, weren’t you? Your mother was very… insistent, according to my uncle.”
“Your uncle? Didn’t your father arrange the match?”
Zuko flushes.
“Uncle Iroh has been minding me since I lost my honor. I am not worthy to have my match set by the Firelord himself.”
“But you’re his first born,” Mai says, slightly confused. “His only son.”
She knew Zuko had gotten in trouble several years ago. There had been a rumor that Ozai had wanted to exile him, but he had been wise enough to see that banishing a thirteen year-old was bad for his image as the protector of the great Fire Nation. Zuko had, however, lost his honor and disgraced himself in Agni Kai. Mai knew more details than most — Azula had boasted about why Zuko had gotten into trouble. What a dumb-dumb, running his mouth, she had laughed.
In the end, it was probably why Mai hadn’t run away from this marriage. Zuko had had more courage at thirteen than Mai possessed now at eighteen. He was certainly braver than anyone else in that war room, who led their men to slaughter rather than speak up. If she had to marry anyone, she wanted it to be someone who wasn’t afraid of the truth.
Now that she sees Zuko, she realizes that everyone in the Royal Palace has spent the last seven years trying to beat his courage out of him. His father had tried it physically with the Agni Kai, and Azula had delighted in doing it psychologically. Mai had thought she would be marrying the last good man in the Fire Nation. Now he looked like just another broken one.
“I am without honor,” Zuko says dully, as if he has repeated this many times. “I disgraced myself and I am not worthy of the throne. But…”
Zuko’s golden eyes blaze in the dim firelight. Mai holds her breath.
“I will regain my honor,” Zuko continues with spellbinding conviction. “I will set right what I have done, and I will do my duty to the Fire Nation.”
Mai stares at him.
“How does a person regain their honor?” she asks finally.
Zuko looks suddenly shame-faced.
“I had hoped that perhaps our union… My father says if I… if we…”
Mai shoves away her tea. She stands so quickly, her chair clatters behind her.
“You’ve brought me here to be a… a brood mare,” she spits. “That’s what the Fire Sages kept talking about — I’m supposed to give you firebending babies, is that it? And then what, they have to duel Azula for your place on the throne?”
“No!” Zuko says, standing just as suddenly. “No, Mai. Let me explain.”
Mai crosses her arms defensively, wishing for the thousandth time that she could stab something.
“That is what my father suggested,” Zuko admits. “But I don’t think… well, you’re right. Even if we did have a child, it would take ages before they would bend fire. My father would probably say they weren’t good enough, though. It’s what he always told me, even before…”
Zuko rubs absent-mindedly at his scar. Mai supposes she should extend some sympathy to him, but she is still too furious.
“I’ve tried to regain my honor many times,” Zuko says, staring off into memories only he can see. “My father wanted me to search for the Avatar.”
“The Avatar disappeared a hundred years ago,” Mai says frostily.
“Yes, but I was still determined to go… but Azula said that if I left, my father would never let me return until I found the Avatar. I thought it better to stay here to regain my honor. I thought there would be something here to clear my shame,” he says bitterly, darkness hanging over him like a cloud. “So I stayed. I was given the most menial of projects, but I knew I would never prove myself unless I embarked on something great. I wanted to volunteer to go to the battlefront, but my uncle stopped me.”
“Why?” Mai asks.
Everything she knows about the Dragon of the West is from Azula. Iroh may have once been a powerful general, but the loss of his son had changed things. Azula mocked him for it, but it made Mai feel a little queasy imagining what it would be like to lose someone she loved like that. The only person who came close in her life was Tom-Tom, and she would have slit the throat of every person in Omashu if a single hair on his head came to harm.
Zuko looks back at his tea with a forlorn expression.
“My uncle is… unconventional. For a long time, I thought he was holding me back. If only he had let me go to war, I could have proved what I was made of… I wasn’t afraid of dying, so long as I didn’t die without honor.”
“So why didn’t you go?”
Zuko is quiet for a long time.
“You’re my wife now. You can’t tell Azula everything I say,” Zuko says finally.
Mai crosses her arm, her annoyance flaring again.
“I don’t tell Azula everything.”
“She’ll get it out of you,” he warns.
“Maybe she can get things out of you. Trust me, I’m harder to crack.”
“That’s probably true,” Zuko sighs.
“So tell me.”
Zuko gives her a long, evaluating look before sighing again.
“The truth is, I waited too long. My uncle kept trying to persuade me not to go, and because I… I care about him —” Zuko says this as if it were shameful — “I waited. I wanted to go, but the regiment left without me. It was the 32nd Naval Brigade.”
Mai waits for an explanation, but none comes.
“I’m not privy to Fire Nation war meetings,” she reminds him. “What’s the 32nd Naval Brigade?”
“Oh, right. Well, they were tasked with the latest assault on the Northern Water Tribe.”
“I didn’t hear about that,” she frowns.
“Of course you didn’t,” Zuko says grimly. “If the rumors are to be believed, they were attacked by a giant water spirit. There were no survivors.”
Mai feels cold despite the warmth of the summer evening. Zuko slumps back into his seat.
“All I’ve wanted for years is to regain my honor. I don’t think siring a firebending prodigy will be the way to do it,” he adds quickly, “but I’m not giving up.”
Mai worries that her new husband is an idiot. Seven years of fruitlessly chasing after something Mai knew his father would never grant him… perhaps Zuko was as sentimental as Azula had said. Feelings were very foolish in Mai’s opinion. It was best to suppress them as much as possible.
However, she decides it is best not to cause too much friction the very first night of their marriage. She had promised subservience — albeit very begrudgingly — so this was probably the first of many times she should have to nod along and swallow her response.
After a long silence, Zuko sighs again.
“We should go to bed.”
Mai stiffens. It was one thing to submit to her husband’s opinions, but this…
Zuko seems to realize what he has said and flushes.
“We don’t have to… I mean, if you want…” he starts uncomfortably.
“We might as well get it over with,” Mai says with a neutrality that she most certainly does not feel.
This is clearly the wrong thing to say. Zuko’s face falls.
“Mai…”
Mai fumbles at the ties on her dress. They start at her shoulder, dozens of little bows parading in a curved line across her back to her hips. She can barely reach them, but she does her best to hurry. The sooner this is over, the better.
Zuko crosses the length of the table to rest his hand on her shoulder. She goes still, waiting for him to loosen the ties. She tries not to breathe — she feels on the verge of tears, and she refuses to cry in front of him. She will master her emotions and do what it takes to survive this.
To her surprise, Zuko does not move to unlace her. She can feel the heat of his palm against the small patch of exposed skin, but he makes no movement to caress or touch her in any way. He just stands there. After a moment, she realizes that he, too, is breathing rather unsteadily.
“We don’t have to do anything,” Zuko repeats, this time with conviction. “I’m not going to force you to do anything against your will.”
“I agreed though” Mai says mechanically. “I said I would obey.”
Zuko’s hand flies away from her skin as if it had burned him.
“I’m not… I won’t order you to do anything,” Zuko says indignantly.
“Why not? You’re my husband now.”
“I told you, I’m not a monster.”
“This is what noblemen do to their wives.”
“Well, it’s not what I do.”
“Oh,” Mai says slowly. “Do you not… prefer women?”
“What?” Zuko says, startled. “No! Nothing like that.” He scowls, looking as angry as ever. “Did you really think I would just force myself on you? That I just couldn’t help it?”
“Yes,” Mai admits. “My mother told me that any husband would take what was his.”
Zuko swears colorfully.
“You’re not a thing I own,” Zuko snarls. “And I’m not going to force you. Not ever.”
“We’ll need an heir eventually.”
“I don’t care. You know my family — everyone is crazy. It might be for the best if our bloodline ends anyway.”
Mai cannot hide her surprise any more. Zuko, however, is too busy glaring at the wall to notice.
“Alright,” Mai says finally. “But someone will inspect the sheets in the morning. Azula wouldn’t shut up about it.”
Zuko frowns, but he looks more worried than angry.
“The sheets?”
“For blood,” Mai clarifies, embarrassment washing over her. “To make sure we consummated our marriage.”
Zuko’s expression morphs into confusion.
“Oh, are you… is it your… womanly time?”
Mai goggles at him.
“I’m not menstruating,” she says slowly. “But that’s not why there would be blood.”
Zuko looks affronted.
“I would never…. even if you wanted to be with me, I would never hurt you.”
“It always hurts the first time,” Mai says with a shrug. “That’s what everyone says.”
Zuko shuffles uncomfortably.
“I heard that, too,” he admits. “But, uh… I also heard it doesn’t have to. If you do it properly, I mean.”
“What’s the ‘proper’ way?” Mai asks skeptically.
“You know,” Zuko says, going red. “If the woman is, ah… satisfied first. And you’re gentle during. Then it shouldn’t hurt.”
Mai can’t quite believe her ears. She had grown up in a sheltered environment and had admittedly not learned much about this topic. She had heard enough to learn that commoners enjoyed sex, but every euphemism the nobility used made it sound like a chore to be borne without complaint. It had not occurred to her that anyone would ever try to satisfy her. The room feels warm, much warmer than it has all evening. She is sure now that the rouge on her cheeks is entirely unnecessary.
“How… who told you that?” she stammers.
Zuko looks, if possible, even more embarrassed.
“My uncle.”
Mai suppresses a laugh.
“Well, you did say he was unconventional.”
Zuko looks at her and gives another ghost of a smile. Mai feels gooseflesh rise up her arms at the sight. Suddenly, the idea of getting into bed is, while still terrifying, at least not entirely repugnant.
Zuko’s face grows serious again as he frowns at the enormous bed.
“How much blood is it?” he asks. “You know, if it’s, uh… conventional.”
“How should I know?”
“No one ever told you?”
“No,” she says, irritated. “How much was there when you slept with other women?”
Zuko goes red again.
“I haven’t…”
He trails off, looking embarrassed. Mai’s brow furrows.
“You’ve never been with a woman?” she asks slightly incredulous. “But you’re…”
She makes a vague gesture towards him. Zuko turns away.
“I am without honor,” Zuko says darkly.
Mai rolls her eyes.
“Who cares about honor? You’re a handsome prince, aren’t you?”
Zuko turns to look back at her, confused.
“I’m not handsome.”
Mai can feel herself flush and avoids his gaze.
“How would you know?” she says as evenly as she can. “There aren’t any mirrors in here.”
There is a long silence again. Neither of them look at each other.
“It’s probably just a few drops of blood, isn’t it?” Zuko says finally.
“Probably,” she agrees, unsure of why he is so fixed upon this idea.
Zuko walks over to the small wooden table next to the bed. He opens the drawer and removes something. Mai doesn’t have to see it to recognize the sound of a dagger being drawn from its sheath.
She watches in astonishment as Zuko pulls back the thin blanket to expose the sheet. Taking careful aim with his dagger, he pricks the tip of his smallest finger and squeezes a few drops of blood onto the fabric below. Mai watches, mesmerized as it spreads, staining the silk red.
Zuko pulls back to critique his work. He looks satisfied, and walks off to what Mai assumes is an adjacent washroom. There is the sound of splashing water, and Zuko returns, looking drawn.
“I know we’re locked in here together,” he says wearily. “I can sleep on the chaise if you want.”
Mai hesitates.
“It’s a big bed,” she says finally. “You must be as tired as I am.”
Zuko looks relieved.
“Do you care which side…?”
“No.”
Mai takes a few steps towards the bed and freezes.
“What?”
Mai rubs her face. She’s so frustrated with all of this nonsense, she could scream. She doesn’t, off course — she’s been trained better than that — but she lets out a small huff of irritation.
“I can’t take off this nightgown by myself,” she says, anger and mortification stewing in her gut. “If any servant catches me wearing this tomorrow morning, they’ll know we didn’t…”
Her clothes are confining and tight. Calling it a ‘nightgown’ is a bit of a stretch — clearly, this is something meant to seduce, not to sleep. There is no way the fabric could be hoisted up to the right spot if they had tried to consummate their marriage. Their ruse would fail if Mai couldn’t get free.
Zuko is quiet for a long moment.
“I can help,” Zuko says quietly. “I won’t look.”
Mai’s every nerve feels electrified as Zuko’s hands work slowly down her back. She guesses that his eyes really are closed, but it makes things worse. Because he cannot see where the next tie is, he has to slowly trace his fingers down along the undulating seam, crossing the plane of her back and the curve near her hip. When he gets low enough, she steps away.
“I can do the rest,” she whispers.
Zuko steps away and Mai quickly strips off the offending fabric. She slides into bed without a stitch on, unsure of what is happening inside of her. Terror and embarrassment are winning the fight, but there is something else lingering, too. The feel of Zuko’s hands against her back had not inspired fear at all. If anything, it had inspired curiosity.
She wonders if Zuko’s uncle could be right, if there could be a way to consummate their union without pain. That wouldn’t be so bad. They could do what they were supposed to, and maybe… maybe it would even be nice.
Then, the idea of falling pregnant pops into her head, and she shudders. No, there would be no exploring that idea further for a while.
Zuko mistakes her shiver for cold and looks stricken.
“Oh, I guess they didn’t give you anything else, did they?” he asks.
Mai shakes her head, careful to keep the blanket pulled up to her chin. Zuko, who has yet to disrobe, strips off his tunic and hands it to her. Mai stares.
“I know it’s not great,” Zuko says, looking embarrassed. “But I can’t go back into my chambers, either. They were walled off so we would be forced in here. This was laundered this morning, so it shouldn’t be too bad… Never mind, this was a bad idea. I’ll just —“
Mai reaches out a lightning fast hand and snatches the tunic. Zuko’s mouth drops open and quickly snaps shut. He turns around stiffly and Mai hastily shoves the tunic over her head.
“I’m decent.”
Zuko turns back and they stare at each other for a long moment. Faintly, Mai wonders what has captured his attention. Hers is drawn to the smooth plane of his chest. She had heard that Prince Zuko’s firebending was far beneath his prodigy sister, but he certainly kept in excellent physical condition. Again, Mai is struck by just how odd it is that the nobility deemed him such a poor prospect to marry. As far as Mai was concerned, Zuko was the picture of health. His physique was quite… stirring.
At almost precisely the same time, they both seem to realize they have been caught staring. Zuko slides silently into bed, extinguishing the candles. Mai stares up at the ceiling. The bed is enormous. The stain of blood in the center of the bed is more than a foot away from each of them, and yet Mai cannot stop thinking about it.
The day replays in her head at rapid speed, intercut with moments from the evening — Zuko with the dagger, Zuko serving her tea, Zuko stripping off his tunic. When she moves her head, she can smell him on the fabric of the shirt.
A rather strange feeling comes over her. She wasn’t made of stone, despite what everyone thought. But she wasn’t as prone to flights of fancy as much as most women she knew — Ty Lee had had a new crush every other week, it had seemed. Mai was different. She could appreciate a handsome face or a fit body, but the feeling was clinical and detached.
Why, then, when she pictured Zuko before her could she feel a wetness between her legs? Why did her heart pound in her chest as the heady scent of his clothing washed over her?
“Mai?”
Mai jerks, fearing for a moment that Zuko could read her thoughts. She turns to look at him. There is just enough moonlight to make out the profile of his face as he stares upwards.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you had to marry me,” he says. His voice sounds tight, like it wounds him to speak.
Mai, a thrill of fear shooting through her, extends her hand across the gap between them. She is enormously relieved that she finds his hand and not something else, although Zuko jumps as if she had stabbed him. After a moment, he relaxes, holding her hand uncertainly in his.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Mai says finally. “I could have run away.”
“That’s not much of a choice,” Zuko points out.
Mai shrugs.
“I would have been fine. Better than married off to some old pervert who just wants a young wife to keep his household.”
Zuko waits a minute before he speaks again.
“Why didn’t you run away?” he asks. “I might not be old, but this… this is worse than anything, Mai.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You don’t understand,” Zuko says, his voice heating. “You’re trapped. My dishonor is yours now, too. You’re tainted by association.”
“You haven’t spent much time with the nobility recently, have you?”
Zuko pauses.
“My father has not seen fit to give me duties that involve interacting with those of high rank,” Zuko says stiffly.
“So you don’t know,” Mai continues calmly, “that you are not the dishonorable one, Zuko. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only person in world I could marry who wouldn’t ‘taint’ me. You’ve already proven it tonight.”
Her voice stays steady, but she curses the slight trembling in her hand. Zuko squeezes it tightly. She hears him heave several deep breaths.
“Good night, Zuko,” she says finally.
“Good night, Mai.”
She pulls her hand back and curls away, adopting her usual sleeping position. Zuko’s tunic is too big for her, and the collar flops down towards her face. His scent fills her nose again, but there are no lustful thoughts this time. With each breath, she thinks of the feel of her hand in his until, finally, sleep comes for her.