Burn a little brighter (Zukka - Soulmate AU)

Chapter 2

It's a special kind of reckless to be falling asleep while holding this scroll. She knows that. And yet the words in front of her bleed together into a black, inky mess. The candle beside her is mostly a puddle of melted wax, and as its flame flickers, so does her concentration. She should have shoved the parchment deep down into a locked chest hours ago.

Midnight, however, and the hours past it, are the only real time she has to do this. The moment the sun rises, she'll have to pull herself out of her study for the new day. She was carefully handed this parchment yesterday evening; it's already making her nervous to have kept it so long. It took a year to find a servant she trusted. Two months to arrange transportation. Weeks to wait as the girl left the city by boat to the outer islands.

The farther away from the heart of the Fire Nation, the less processed the information. It's the only way she can get details about the war that aren't drastically skewed, snippets she can parse through and frown over and burn up when she's finished.

It tells her basic military movements, mentions the names of a few occupied towns, but her hand still clenches tightly against her nightgown because while she knows some parts are real, she can't be sure of which parts. As long as she's here, she'll never know, and that's a frustration she told herself she was long over yet still fights against. She could talk to Akemi, but ever since she married, she's been distant. She could talk to Iroh, but he's long out of the city, and when he comes back, he's cautious. Honest, but his rank as a general forces him to silence himself too much.

Every once in a while, she thinks she should be making plans. She's not sure what those plans would be. It's like being stuck in an hourglass full of sand except the sand is invisible. There could be an infinite amount of time left. There could be until the next knock on her door.

Her head drops forward, eyelids closing and wrists slacking, and it's the thunk of the scroll's rod against the wood that jolts her awake.

"-m?"

She freezes so suddenly her heart thuds to a stop.

Immediately she snatches the parchment, rolls it up, walks, crouches, and shoves it in a hidden chest compartment beside a shelf. Nervous sweat is already collecting on her skin, and she curses it as she rises up, dabbing at it with a cloth.

Many high-ranking men and dutiful servants travel along the palace hallways at night. Less around this wing, but sometimes she will still hear the taps of their shoes along the floor and tune them out. People are always shuffling around, very rarely do they bother her. The good ones don't even let you know they passed.

She shakes her head, clearing her mind and walking forward immediately because that voice sounded way too young to be out this late. Her children sleep on this hallway, Azula to the left and Zuko to the right. They know to be in bed by now, are nowhere near old enough for Ursa to feel comfortable with them wandering around at this time.

The voice is closer, and she finally catches a word that eases her.

"Mom?"

Ursa steps out into the hall. She's gotten better at moving quietly, knows how not to ruffle clothes excessively. Putting a slender hand against the doorway, she first notices the curtains fluttering peacefully in the night breeze. They seem to have captured her kid's attention because he's grabbed the end of one and is bunching it curiously in his hands.

A tired sigh of "Zuko" is at her lips. It's weary but fond. She's going to take his hand and guide him back to his room, tell him a story if he woke up from a bad dream.

"Mom?" Zuko repeats again, finally turning to her.

Her hand releases from the door, dropping limply to her side. The name falls with it.