The Fall Of A Princess.

8

Yuo wakes up groggily in the familiar surrounds of their sleeping chambers, way too sore to move. Azula is there beside him, a constant presence. She notices the flicker of his eyes.

“You're awake…”

Her voice is steady, controlled, but close observation might reveal a depth of relief.

“Don't move; you've been through an ordeal.”

Her hand is close, ready to offer support but respecting his warrior's pride. She watches the prince with an intensity only she can manage, ensuring that he understands the imperative to remain still, to heal, to stay alive — for her, for the nation, for himself.

“How long was I asleep…”

Azula's gaze remains fixed on Yuo, unblinking and calculating.

"Not long, but long enough to recover."

Her tone is even, carrying the subtleties of concern she won't voice.

"The healer has done well."

In her eyes, there's a flash of something like pride — pride in her husband's resilience, in the healer's work, in their shared strength.

"You need more rest."

The command is there, typical Azula, but it's underscored by an acknowledgement of Yuo’s healing journey, one she has become an intrinsic part of.

“You need rest too…”

Yuo muttered tiredly. Azula's eyes narrow slightly, betraying a hint of surprise at his concern for her.

"I will... in time."

Her response is dismissive, but the tightness around her eyes softens as she acknowledges the truth in his words.

"For now, you are my priority."

The declaration is firm, but the faintest softening of her voice suggests that Yuo's welfare has indeed become a deeply personal matter. Though she would never admit to the toll taken by constant vigilance, there is an unspoken appreciation for his insight, and perhaps a silent promise to heed it, eventually.
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In the following several weeks, while her husband is still recuperating, Azula comes to the realization that she is with child. She stands alone, grappling with the news, the realization washing over her in a wave that's both exhilarating and terrifying.

“A child.”

Azula speaks to no one, her voice barely more than a whisper as the weight of the future settles upon her shoulders.

“Our legacy.”

Her eyes harden with determination, mixed with an undercurrent of fear she'd never show to the world. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself before going to her chambers. She must be strong — for Yuo, for the nation, for the child growing within her. When Azula finally reveals the news to her husband, her voice is steady, her demeanor unbreakable, but her hand, resting lightly over her abdomen, betrays a rare tenderness.

“We will have an heir, Yuo.”

The blend of pride and vulnerability in her announcement gives a rare glimpse into the human behind the persona, the woman behind the warrior.

The glass of water he'd been holding immediately falls from his grasp, hitting the floor and shattering. Yuo's icy blue eyes sparkle with tears.

“Are you... certain?”

Her gaze doesn't waver, even at the sound of shattering glass; instead, she focuses on the male, the slight softening of her features indicating empathy.