Drabble: Sanctuary
Title: Sanctuary
Author: adaman_t
Genre: Romance
Characters: Mai/Zuko
Words: 561
Rating: G
Summary: Zuko's nightmares are few and far in between
“Father, please…”
At first, you think you’re dreaming. The desperate plea is so soft; you don’t even realize it’s coming from the body next to you until the blankets are pulled off you.
You hate the cold, you think blearily, more than a little irritated. You prepare yourself to yank the blankets off your idiot husband. Who does he think he is? He can generate his own damn heat.
You’re agitated as you turn over, finding Zuko’s far proximity odd. Your husband is a closet snuggler, what is he doing all the way over there? You don’t usually have to worry about petty things like being warm in the Fire Nation Palace, sharing your bed with a firebender.
Your eyes adjust to the dark room and you see your husband curled up in fetal position at the end of the bed, whimpering and looking nothing like the twenty-year-old Fire Lord that took down a crazed Azula. Immediately, you realize what’s occurring.
Oh. Oh.
It’s not as if you’re unaccustomed to the occasional nightmares that plague your husband. After all, it’s not like you can blame him.
You crawl over and gently rouse him, whispering his name. “I am your loyal son…” He mumbles while trailing off. He still manages to sound as terrified as he did when he was thirteen.
He wasn’t the only one scarred on the day he received his scar. You will never forget his screams, begging for forgiveness, then later, mercy. You will never forget the scent of burning flesh and charred skin. Mostly, you’ll never forget the cold ruthlessness that Ozai had when attacking his only son…
Zuko pulls the blanket closer to his person, as if shielding himself from his father’s onslaught. He flinches away from your touch. He’s about to fall off the bed, you think in the back of your mind.
“Zuko, wake up,” you coax. He whimpers; you imagine he’s screaming in his dream.
After a few more gentle attempts, you’re tired of failure. You can’t handle watching your husband suffer any longer.
“Zuko!” You yell, your voice filling the crevices of the large room.
Success, you think as he jerks out of slumber and sits straight up on the bed.
His eyes move wildly while he reaches for the burnt side of his face, seeking solace in old scar tissue rather than singed skin. He takes in a shuddering breath, violently turning his body toward you, seemingly prepared to fight. Then, he sees you. His eyes clear and he’s pulled out of the past.
Zuko breaks down all at once.
“Mai,” he says, his voice breaking on your name.
You’re already gathering him in your arms as he reaches toward you with tears streaking down his face. His arms are tight around you, his face buried in your shoulder.
The position is awkward on your bent legs, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. You pull him down to the bed, his weight pressing down on you.
He’s heavy and you’re breathless in all the wrong ways, but you don’t care. You’ll be his sanctuary, protecting him from his mind.
Besides, he’ll roll over beside you sooner or later, you reason.
“Mai…” he says again, marginally calmer this time. You notice, you always notice.
You say nothing; words aren’t necessary. You convey everything you need to by holding him closer.
Author: adaman_t
Genre: Romance
Characters: Mai/Zuko
Words: 561
Rating: G
Summary: Zuko's nightmares are few and far in between
“Father, please…”
At first, you think you’re dreaming. The desperate plea is so soft; you don’t even realize it’s coming from the body next to you until the blankets are pulled off you.
You hate the cold, you think blearily, more than a little irritated. You prepare yourself to yank the blankets off your idiot husband. Who does he think he is? He can generate his own damn heat.
You’re agitated as you turn over, finding Zuko’s far proximity odd. Your husband is a closet snuggler, what is he doing all the way over there? You don’t usually have to worry about petty things like being warm in the Fire Nation Palace, sharing your bed with a firebender.
Your eyes adjust to the dark room and you see your husband curled up in fetal position at the end of the bed, whimpering and looking nothing like the twenty-year-old Fire Lord that took down a crazed Azula. Immediately, you realize what’s occurring.
Oh. Oh.
It’s not as if you’re unaccustomed to the occasional nightmares that plague your husband. After all, it’s not like you can blame him.
You crawl over and gently rouse him, whispering his name. “I am your loyal son…” He mumbles while trailing off. He still manages to sound as terrified as he did when he was thirteen.
He wasn’t the only one scarred on the day he received his scar. You will never forget his screams, begging for forgiveness, then later, mercy. You will never forget the scent of burning flesh and charred skin. Mostly, you’ll never forget the cold ruthlessness that Ozai had when attacking his only son…
Zuko pulls the blanket closer to his person, as if shielding himself from his father’s onslaught. He flinches away from your touch. He’s about to fall off the bed, you think in the back of your mind.
“Zuko, wake up,” you coax. He whimpers; you imagine he’s screaming in his dream.
After a few more gentle attempts, you’re tired of failure. You can’t handle watching your husband suffer any longer.
“Zuko!” You yell, your voice filling the crevices of the large room.
Success, you think as he jerks out of slumber and sits straight up on the bed.
His eyes move wildly while he reaches for the burnt side of his face, seeking solace in old scar tissue rather than singed skin. He takes in a shuddering breath, violently turning his body toward you, seemingly prepared to fight. Then, he sees you. His eyes clear and he’s pulled out of the past.
Zuko breaks down all at once.
“Mai,” he says, his voice breaking on your name.
You’re already gathering him in your arms as he reaches toward you with tears streaking down his face. His arms are tight around you, his face buried in your shoulder.
The position is awkward on your bent legs, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. You pull him down to the bed, his weight pressing down on you.
He’s heavy and you’re breathless in all the wrong ways, but you don’t care. You’ll be his sanctuary, protecting him from his mind.
Besides, he’ll roll over beside you sooner or later, you reason.
“Mai…” he says again, marginally calmer this time. You notice, you always notice.
You say nothing; words aren’t necessary. You convey everything you need to by holding him closer.