Chapter Text
It was altogether too stuffy in his office, Zuko decided. Even with the windows opened wide, the lack of breeze and the humidity of outside entering the room made it unbearable in his heavy royal clothing. Irritated, he stood up and left the room, pausing by his secretaries’ desk.
“Yluzu, push my meeting,” he began, then paused. Yluzu wasn’t sitting at her desk. Instead there was a small child with big brown eyes peering up at him.
“Hi?” Zuko said hesitantly. The child blinked at him and tilted their head, chewing on their sleeve. “Where is Yluzu?” Zuko tried cautiously.
The child blinked again. “I don’t know who that is,” they said in a quiet, muffled voice.
“The secretary?” Zuko questioned. “She works here, this is her desk?”
“My mommy left me here to look after it because she went to the kitchen to steal some spiced watermelon for me,” the child parroted, clearly having prepared this statement to some extent.
Zuko couldn’t help it, he laughed. The child looked disgruntled and clambered out of the chair and toddled over to Zuko. He looked down at the kid, and smiled awkwardly. He didn’t have much experience with kids, besides Azula. But Azula was never a normal kid, he reasoned. He was pretty sure Yluzu’s kid wouldn’t try to send fire pinpricks at his legs.
“How old are you?” he asked, and the child haughtily drew themself up to their full height – barely reaching past Zuko’s thigh.
“I am three years old,” the kid said magnanimously, and then paused. “Three and a half,” they amended. Zuko nodded gamely.
“Three and a half is a very important age,” he smiled. “What’s your name?”
The child looked startled. “Mommy said to never tell strangers my name,” they said in a shocked tone.
Zuko restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “Don’t you know who I am –“ he began, then cringed at himself for even saying that. “Your mommy works with me,” he said instead. “I’m Zuko, her boss. I work in there,” he said, pointing at the slightly ajar wooden door that separated Zuko’s office from the front office and Yluzu’s desk, where she impeded any number of frustrated ministers, irritated Fire Sages and nosy nobles from disturbing Zuko at work.
The child still looked suspicious, but acquiesced. “I’m Toka,” she said finally.
“Why are you here today, Toka?” Zuko questioned, hunkering down to be at her level.
“Mommy said it was bring your child to work day. She said the Fire Lord said he wanted to make people happy in the palace. And she said there was a turtleduck pond!”
Zuko squinted, trying to remember if he’d signed off on this. Distantly, he remembered speaking with the head of the palace staff about improving work conditions and fostering a sense of family amongst the staff. Perhaps this was one of the measures he’d agreed to.
“Well, there is a turtleduck pond,” he said cheerily, for want of something else to say as Toka stared at him unblinkingly. It was a bit unnerving, really. “It was my favorite place when I was your age.”
It was Toka’s turn to squint, as she clearly tried to imagine Zuko as her age. Failing to do so, she shook her head and declared loudly, “I want to go see the turtleduckies but mommy is gone and I don’t know where they are.”
“Has your mother been gone long?” he questioned.
“Ages!” Toka cried dramatically.
Zuko stood up, peered at the open diary on Yluzu’s desk, and not seeing any pressing issues (the petition from the noble family Aruni for funds for a new water fountain commemorating the end of the war in the town of Hinachi could wait), he shrugged. “I can show you the pond if you want.”
Toka’s eyes lit up in joy. “Yes please!” she breathed, and made towards the doors on her chubby little legs. Zuko smiled fondly, and followed her, pulling open the heavy door with the handle a good foot above Toka’s head. The palace really wasn’t very child friendly, Zuko noted. That was something he’d dealt with as a child, too.
Toka burst down the hallway, and Zuko strode to keep up, shouting directions at her as they went. After a few misdirections (it appeared children of three did not yet know the difference between left and right), and a brief pit-stop in the kitchens, the pair emerged into the sunlit courtyard. There were several children within the courtyard, clustered in small groups. Around the edges, resting on the benches, were some of the household staff. Zuko only recognized a few, like Romi, one of his protection detail, and Lo, who often brought him his dinner when he was holed up in his office working on a draft proposal.
Lo stood up in shock when she spotted him, elbowing the woman beside her as she did so. Quickly, the staff in the courtyard rose to their feet, sinking into a deep bow. Zuko acknowledged them awkwardly, as Toka turned to him with a confused expression.
“Zuko, why are they all bowing for me?” she asked, bewildered. Romi, who was standing nearest, let out a snort of laughter that he quickly covered up with a cough.
“That’s the Fire Lord, sweetie,” one of the staff said kindly.
“Oh,” Toka said. She turned at looked at him appraisingly. After several seconds, she shrugged and said, “meh,” and turned and scampered over to the pond. Zuko caught several amused faces around the courtyard, and stoutly ignored them as he followed the little girl.
At the pond there were several other children, and Toka had already found herself at odds with them. She was smaller than the others, but twice as bossy, and had nearly been pushed into the pond for her troubles. “I just wanna –“ she was saying as Zuko approached, grabbing her little fists desperately towards another child who was holding a turtleduck protectively against his chest.
“It’s mine!” the other kid wailed as Toka attempted to slide the pet from his arms. Toka ignored him, and gleefully cuddled the little duckling, cooing and petting it. Zuko felt laughter bubble up in his chest, but nevertheless he strode forward to break up the fight.
“There are lots of turtleducks in the pond,” he said soothingly. “But we must treat them with respect. I know I don’t like it if people mess with my hair and pick me up without permission,” he continued, drawing back on old memories of sticky sweet scented noble-women cooing and clucking at him, petting his hair and picking him up.
Toka looked at him guiltily. “I hate when Grandma Jiji tickles me,” she mumbled. “She smells like old person.” She let go of the duckling gently, and it splashed back into the pond in search of its mother. Zuko watched it go fondly, then sat on the ground beside Toka. The other children around the pond crept closer, and sat cross-legged at his side.
Zuko glanced around at the little group. They stared back at him, eyes wide and trusting. He pushed the nervous sensation in his chest down and pulled out the bag of seed he’d grabbed from the kitchen on his way to the courtyard with Toka.
“When I was little me and my mother used to feed the turtleducks bread,” he began. “Of course, now I know that seeds are better for turtleducks.”
“Why?” questioned a girl who Zuko guessed was about eight.
“Do you ever eat a lot of bread but you’re hungry again very quickly?” The group nodded eagerly. “It’s the same for the ducks. Bread is not very healthy for ducks, but they will eat a lot of it and not all the other healthy things, like worms and seeds. So when we feed the turtleducks bread, they will ignore healthy food and just eat bread.”
“Can I feed them seeds?” Toka piped up, holding out her hands cupped to Zuko. He smiled and eyed the bag of seed, hoping there was enough for everyone to get a handful to throw.
“Of course, Toka,” he replied, pouring some seeds into her hands. The other children clamored for some seeds too, and he passed it out, making neat little piles in each child’s outstretched hands. Excited, the children scattered around the pond, flinging their seeds into the water and cheering with delight as the turtleducklings zoomed around the pond, gobbling down the seeds and then approaching the children in search of more.
Zuko sat back into the sunbeam that was shining down on the mostly shaded courtyard, cradling a small turtleduck in his hands, and basked the sun as he watched the children scamper and shout. They were so full of joy at such a simple activity, and it brought up memories of when he too was filled with a similar joy, side by side with his mother, a turtleduckling in his lap and several others at his feet.
The children slowly started to filter back to him as they ran out of seeds, some of the more gentle ones clutching turtleducks in their small hands. Zuko blinked, staring at the children gathered at his feet. He looked down at the duckling in his lap, and felt a strong sense of having already been in that moment before.
He looked over at the children’s parents, who were still sitting on the benches in the shade, indulgent smiles on their faces. He looked at the children, and as a strong wash of loneliness washed over him, Zuko thought about how he would never get to recreate his few beloved childhood memories with his own child, or create new ones either.
The pain in his chest grew as he watched Toka and the boy with whom she had fought earlier, play with one turtleduck between them, handling it with care and sensitivity. They were giggling and holding hands, and the little duck looked contented, as they ran their fingers gently over its soft downy feathers.
A wispy cloud moved in front of the sun, and Zuko found himself no longer warmed by the sunbeam. The physical chill prompted him to move, and he climbed to his feet, brushing down his robes and avoiding looking at the children. “Come on, Toka. Your mother is probably looking for you.”
His words seemed to prompt the parents, and they all moved forward to collect their children and bring them back inside, mumbling about how they’d already taken a long break and wasn’t the fire lord so good to give them this day?
“Thank you Fire Lord Zuko,” said one girl as she placed her duckling back in the pond. The other children looked abashed, and in unison chorused, “thank you Fire Lord Zuko!”
Zuko blushed, nodded at each parent and child pair, and finally when it was just himself and Toka left, went to pick up the girl from where she was sitting sullenly on the far side of the pond.
“Your mother is probably worried,” he said softly as a tear dripped down her face.
“But I don’t wanna go!” she protested, holding the duckling close to her chest. “She’s not my mama,” she whimpered sadly.
“What do you mean?” Zuko asked, stunned. Had he just assumed that this was Yzulu’s child? Who did she belong to, if not?
“My mama is dead,” Toka whispered. Zuko stared at her, deep concern filling his chest.
“So who brought you to the palace today?” he queried.
“Mommy,” Toka mumbled. Zuko watched her in confusion, unsure how to continue.
Just then, Yzulu skittered into the courtyard, mild concern on her face. “Oh, there you are! Lo said that you’d ended up in here – my Lord!” she gasped, spotting Zuko for the first time. “My apologies, my Lord. I hope she did not cause any trouble.”
Zuko shook his head. “None at all, Yzulu. She was a delight. I’m just concerned now, as she seems to think you are not her mother?”
“Ah,” Yzulu breathed, with the air of one who had gone over this issue many times. “I’m not her biological mother, is what it is. I adopted her a year ago when her own mother passed from a fever. I’ve always told her the story of how she ended up with me, but I think sometimes she gets confused.”
“I see,” Zuko said, relief filling him. “That is very kind of you, Yzulu. To take in a child that is not your own.”
“There’s no kindness in it,” she replied. “I love Toka as if I birthed her myself. I met her in the orphanage where she resided for a few weeks prior to adoption, and I knew that I had to care for this little girl. I’m not able to have children with my partner, you understand, but I never thought of this as settling for anything less.”
“Oh,” Zuko replied inelegantly. “And you don’t feel concern for your bloodline?”
Yzulu scoffed, then caught herself and smiled ruefully. “My apologies, my Lord. But I have heard this from many people. Simply put, not at all. Old Fire Nation tradition used to embrace bringing others into your family. I fear this thinking has been mostly forgotten, however.”
“I personally have never heard of it,” Zuko offered. “Being royal, of course, bloodlines are treated with utmost importance. My parents had an arranged marriage in order to combine two desired bloodlines.”
Yzulu nodded. “I can see why the thinking changed. Keeping power in the same hands, and such. But in the time of say, Avatar Kyoshi, things were different. Kyoshi herself had an adopted child with her wife. She’s something of an inspiration for me,” she admitted softly. “My wife and I both always wanted children, and once I discovered Avatar Kyoshi’s tale, it changed everything for us. We are proud to have an adopted child.”
Zuko sighed. “I am happy for you that you that you found your daughter and maintained a lost Fire Nation tradition. I am trying to help restore some of our old ways, but at times the pushback is immense. I will add this one to my list, see if I can’t add some more legal status to your standing.”
Yzulu inclined her head. “I thank you, my Lord. I only hope that it will be possible for you, too.”
“How so?” Zuko asked, confused. “Adoption? Why would I need that?”
“Lo told me you are a natural with children. I didn’t mean adoption specifically. Just the potential for a child is a wonderous thing. I hope you find your future Fire Lady, for I believe you would be an excellent father.”
With that, Yzulu stood up, dusting out her skirts, and held out her hand to Toka, who was blinking her eyes rapidly in an attempt to not fall asleep. The little girl clasped it firmly, and waved at Zuko weakly with the other. “Say thank you to the Fire Lord,” her mother ordered.
“Thank you Zuko,” she yawned. Her mother shook her head.
“Fire Lord Zuko, my darling,” she began, but Zuko cut her off.
“It’s quite alright, Yzulu. Toka and I are friends, I would never ask a friend to use a title.”
Yzulu bowed in the simpler fashion, as one hand was occupied, clasping that of Toka’s. The pair left, Toka’s little legs stumbling in her sleepy state.
Zuko watched them go, then turned to stare at the turtleducks. The mother duck had all her babies around her, snuggled close under her feathers. The mother duck had not attempted to fight all the children earlier, for she knew they meant her babies no harm. Zuko thought about when a mother duck had attacked Zuko for throwing a loaf of bread at them, imitating Azula. A duck had never attacked him before, or since.
Zuko sighed heavily, and moved to leave the garden. Suddenly he heard a little peep, and he looked around to spot a small duckling hiding under a bush on its own. Zuko crouched down and picked up the baby, which was shaking in fear. He gently stroked the duck until it began to relax, then placed it back in the pond with its mother and siblings.
The mother duck approached, quacking loudly, and fussed over her baby. Then she raised her head, and looked Zuko right in the eye. Quack! Zuko didn’t speak duck, but he knew the duck was telling him something. What though, he wasn’t quite sure. He returned to his office through the darkened castle, and shut the door firmly, an invitation against entering.