note: these are loosely interrelated post-series drabbles written for zutara week 2016. all are entirely domestic in nature. consider these the "awwwww, family!" interludes in the larger political and entirely more plot-driven story that would be going on, i'm sure, as neither zuko nor katara are ones to rest in their own ease at the lack of serving those in need. please and thank you.

disclaimer: it's all bryke's, except what's not.

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i. dragons

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People stretch out around the traveling palanquin for as far as Katara can see, bright colors smeared in heat like the land that surrounds them. The servants pulled back the curtains before she and Zuko left the palace to be placed on display during their trip to Caldera's Fire Temple.

They are not so much on display, however, as her burgeoning midsection, round and obvious now as she approaches the end of her pregnancy.

High midsummer is not her favorite time of year to be pregnant.

"It's good luck," Zuko had offered hopefully when they'd first calculated when the baby was due to be born. "Traditionally speaking."

"Because tradition says those children are likely to be firebenders," Katara had countered, before she concluded, both in hope and in spite, "The baby will probably be a waterbender, and that'll show them all."

Now, with a few scant months left until she and Zuko—Fire Lord Zuko, she still chokes on the thought sometimes, that her husband, the strong, struggling boy who chased her and her friends all over the world, has come into his own as the ruler of his country—welcome their first child, Zuko has enlisted her help in reinstating an old tradition, one that had died out after Sozin's time: the lighting of incense in the Fire Temple to bless the birth of the new royal.

"It will help gain more support from the traditionalists," he'd said simply, and Katara understands. There are too many groups to please and appease, and all Zuko wants to do is rule justly.

Now, he squeezes her hand and offers her a small smile as they look out over the crowd that's gathered to spectate as they take part in the rite.

For as much as the journey to the temple is pomp and public spectacle, the ceremony itself is surprisingly quiet. Katara and Zuko stand with their guards at the entrance to the temple while a Fire Sage gives a speech about the history of the rite, of asking for the blessings of the spirits and of the dragons.

Of course they'd want to summon the dragons' aid—they all want firebenders born to them, after all.

After the speech, the old sage leads Zuko and Katara away from the crowd, back through the main part of the temple and into one of the rooms off to the side. Their guards follow, but with enough stealth to allow the royal pair a sense of false solitude.

The side room is quiet, lined with candles on shelves, and in the front sits an incense burner shaped like a dragon. Zuko lights two sticks of incense and, once they're smoking, he hands one to Katara. They move quietly, always quietly, because the Temple has a feeling both of being too-old and always-watched, as they set the cloying scents into the burner.

The little dragon glows distantly from the embers.

Zuko sighs, leans over to kiss Katara's hair, and smiles wanly when she squeezes his hand and smiles up at him.

When they leave, the process reverses itself, and they go from the dark into the bright, searing light.

Back in the palace, when evening comes, they drink tea. It's a habit that falls over them like a sigh of relief at the end of each day, a quiet time for just the two of them.

Soon it will be just the three of them, when they share a baby in their arms.

"The ceremony today was nice," Katara offers. "It was less...pompous...than I was expecting."

Zuko rolls his eyes. "It's older," he says. "From before Sozin got his hands on things. That always helps."

"Mmmm," Katara agrees noncommittally.

The warm evening air hovers above them, around them, and in the cocoon of quiet, Katara begins to think about heading to bed, when Zuko says firmly, "I hope this baby's a waterbender."

Katara blinks herself out of her reverie. "Why?"

"Firebenders... Firebenders..." Zuko struggles to find the words. "I would want him to be like the Sun Warriors' dragons. Pure. Not like my family. So many in my family have had their firebending tainted. They tried to become the dragons, to own firebending, but it only made them monsters."

Katara's fingers twine with his and she smiles, overlooking his use of the word him for a baby she suspects—although she has no way of knowing any more than she does, save mother's intuition—is a girl. "Zuko," she says, "this baby has you for a father. Not anybody else, and even with all that history," she gestures toward the palace that surrounds them with her other hand, "look where you've ended up. This baby would be a firebender like you or like Iroh, not like the others."

"Or he could be a waterbender like you," Zuko reasserts stubbornly, and the tilt of his mouth tells Katara that he appreciates her support.

"Or a nonbender like Sokka," Katara says. "There's lots of ancestry to choose from, if we're going there."

Zuko snorts. "Can you imagine a little Sokka running around?"

"I don't have to imagine it," Katara points out. "I lived through it."

Zuko considers, then grins. "It'd be kind of awesome."

Katara giggles. She slides her hand to rest on the swell of her stomach and searches with her bending to feel the heartbeat that resides there. "Yeah," she concedes. "It would."

The heart beats strong, and that's all that matters.

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tbc.