This may be because he’s just one step back from blind drunk, but anything would be an improvement. Iroh is pretty sure Mai doctored the tea even further from what he’d included so as to get the young Firelord to stop panicking.
“So- he’s alive. And he’s angry. And he’s- what’d you say again?”
“You heard me the first four times.” Katara is not so relaxed, which may be why she’s both about to snap and eyeing the snifter Mai’s holding onto with a white-knuckled grip. Aang, thirteen going on fourteen, has bowed out of this one- peacemaking between rival tribes aside, a custody-battle-in-potentia was not something he feels skilled enough to handle without a lot of meditation.
“What do we do?”
A lot of things flash by in the silence. They’re the same things that have been said over again in the last hour, and they all know them by now. But I’ve already- this can’t be- Jet can’t- I can’t- they’ll never, he’s no, he won’t...
The unkind things must be said, have been said. Jet is a lunatic. The Firelord’s heir, in the hands, in the belly of a young man who hates the Fire Nation with a passion to rival the very foes he despises? Unthinkable. Impossible.
Happening.
Mai is the one who finally sets down the bottle with a thunk and spreads her hands on the desk. Her face is hard and a little too mad to be blank.
“Who else knows about this?”
“Just us in the room, Aang, Sokka- and Jet and his two friends. They don’t seem like they’re in a rush to tell anyone,” Katara says, rubbing her temple. Zuko looks up blearily, torn between many masters and his own heart for something that’s just barely real.
“Then these are your options…”
Winter is coming.
There’s a child on the way.
And Zuko will neither take it away, as Jet feared, nor leave it lost. But things cannot stay as they are.
Edit! Bonusfic!- Informing Zuko
Zuko is, at least, no longer hyperventilating.
This may be because he’s just one step back from blind drunk, but anything would be an improvement. Iroh is pretty sure Mai doctored the tea even further from what he’d included so as to get the young Firelord to stop panicking.
“So- he’s alive. And he’s angry. And he’s- what’d you say again?”
“You heard me the first four times.” Katara is not so relaxed, which may be why she’s both about to snap and eyeing the snifter Mai’s holding onto with a white-knuckled grip. Aang, thirteen going on fourteen, has bowed out of this one- peacemaking between rival tribes aside, a custody-battle-in-potentia was not something he feels skilled enough to handle without a lot of meditation.
“What do we do?”
A lot of things flash by in the silence. They’re the same things that have been said over again in the last hour, and they all know them by now. But I’ve already- this can’t be- Jet can’t- I can’t- they’ll never, he’s no, he won’t...
The unkind things must be said, have been said. Jet is a lunatic. The Firelord’s heir, in the hands, in the belly of a young man who hates the Fire Nation with a passion to rival the very foes he despises? Unthinkable. Impossible.
Happening.
Mai is the one who finally sets down the bottle with a thunk and spreads her hands on the desk. Her face is hard and a little too mad to be blank.
“Who else knows about this?”
“Just us in the room, Aang, Sokka- and Jet and his two friends. They don’t seem like they’re in a rush to tell anyone,” Katara says, rubbing her temple. Zuko looks up blearily, torn between many masters and his own heart for something that’s just barely real.
“Then these are your options…”
Winter is coming.
There’s a child on the way.
And Zuko will neither take it away, as Jet feared, nor leave it lost. But things cannot stay as they are.