salixj:

With the
morning sun came the birds, and the fisherman’s daughter’s piping. Frail and
weak no one would put to boat without her music to wish them well, for an
astrologer had held his hands above her mother’s womb, foretold she was a
talisman against misfortune. Scoffers had died, confirming in the minds of many
her worth.

The
breeze brought in the brine, the morning broths, and roses, jasmine, and pine,
for the windows opened to both the sea and the garden.

“Lay back
down.” Sokka patted the spot beside him. His arm curled in a makeshift pillow; Cami
had spread herself across their down ones.

“It’s so
beautiful though,” Azula said. Yuma was snuggled against her breast, suckling
in his sleep.  The windows wrapped around
the corner and she had a view of the sea and the tea garden.

“Did he
let you sleep at all?’ Sokka questioned, sitting up beside her. He took up comb,
brush and ribbon from the nightstand undid the braid in her hair and began
brushing it.  Azula sighed contentedly, and
then smiled down at her son.
“A little. He’s still learning.”
“You need to sleep Azula.” He split her hair into three parts, running his
hands down the silky chestnut strands, twisting them into a new braid, weaving
the ribbon in and out every third turn.  “Oya
will take Cami out for a ride, and I’m telling Kai to sit beside you and not
let you out of bed till mid-morning. You’ll meet me for lunch.”

Azula leaned back
against Sokka.

“Hey, I can’t do your hair this way.”

“Too bad…” Azula laughed, “I’m too comfortable this way.

Sokka wrapped his arms about her. “Oya can do my hair later.” She turned her
head to kiss him, careful not to disturb Yuma. “When I wake…”  She slipped her head into the crook of his
neck.

“Well, I don’t mind this myself.” Sokka slid his arms across hers, and then
leaned back against the headboard in the narrow space Cami had left them. The
fisherman’s daughter trilled a last note. The boats were all at sea. A servant
hummed in the dressing room beyond, as she laid out clothes. Cami murmured and
turned in hers sleep, shot her arms and legs wide then rolled to small bit of
wall beneath the windows.

“Oh now you give me my pillow!” Sokka moved down the wall toward the window,
and Azula sunk deeper into his arms.

“Stay,”  she said, half command, half
plea, “is anything more than the color of the carpet on the agenda?”

“That is one of the top issues. Also fishing rights – King Kuei claims his
water rights are being infringed on,  the
educational committee wants  new standards
of reading for primary children, budget debate – everyone wants money, and…” he
slid down to his pillow, taking her with him. “No – nothing more important than
what is here. At least…” he brushed his lips against hers, “at least for
another hour or so.  I can be late.” 

She
smiled up at him, stroked his cheek with her hand, and nestled her head against
his chest, till all she heard was his heart, beating a lullaby of love.