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[personal profile] weirdlet
For Floranna. Sort of a series of dribs and drabs before the main event- I liked the large end-piece, but felt it needed some introduction, and the bits that I had were sort of a set.

This may touch on sensitive things- consider it rated for teen pregnancy and considered suicide.

The AU: Princess Zura was pregnant when she was exiled- now she roams the world with a child in tow, seeking the Avatar as her chance at redemption- for herself and her daughter...

The Prompt: The time after banishment but before giving birth, Zura panics.

The Fic: Exile

They check the Air-temples first- the Western one for a start, as it’s the closest. Zura is up and around, seeking any sign or hint of information that could help her quest despite not being able to see through one eye and a mood that wavers somewhere between caged fury and shellshock.

Iroh sighs, and writes letters, and makes extremely soothing tea.

“One last chance, Zura- one word and all is forgiven. Tell me the father’s name.”

She looks up at him, trembling, young and strong and utterly outclassed. “I cannot.” Tears are spilling down her face and she’s trying to remember how it all went so wrong, so fast. “I won’t fight you, Father!”

The crowd is murmuring, muttering, shouting, a mishmashed jumble she can’t interpret, but she doesn’t dare dream it’s coming out on her side.

“If you will not you are a coward, and if you cannot, that is far worse. And if that is so, then you will redeem yourself the only way you have left. Fight!

She lowers her gaze, and her forehead hits the mat. She wants to be sick, more, to be anywhere but here, to beg forgiveness for sins she hasn’t even committed yet-

Zura bolts from her hammock and dives for the bucket, the smell of her own flesh still burning filling her nostrils.

Zura keeps up the clean-shaven scalp, done first to shame her and take away her beauty in the eyes of the Fire Nation. She wears it openly, brazen in her ugliness, making it proud and strong to hide the shame and weakness she feels.

Iroh thinks he can take that as a good sign- as long as she’s defiant, he doesn’t think he’ll wake up to find that she’s filled her sleeves with ammunition and disappeared overboard in the night.

Her fifteenth birthday passes, and Zura puts her armor away. Her belly is too round to wear it, and she cannot afford to tailor it or get a new set. Uncle had been generous enough to finance her exile so that at least she can move around to seek the slightest chance at redemption, but she won’t tax him for something that she’s never going to wear again once she’s back in fighting trim.

The weeks, and then the months wear on. She’s sick with the waves and the shifting colors of the sea, and Azulon whispers in her head at night. There are almost no friendly ports between the Northern and the Eastern Air-temples, and she can hear the grumbling as they take the long, safe, boring way, well away from places where the crew could either draw or spend their pay.

Uncle tries to push away the nameless fears even as the very plain one of mutiny grows. He tries to be understanding, but he understands too much- Zura loves her uncle, but she can’t trust what he offers. She could be the Face-Stealer himself, and he would offer her tea and a hug.

She isn’t sure what reassurance she wants, but she knows she doesn’t want it from someone with a vested interest.

She’s standing on the bow of the ship one night, a small heap of cannon-shot at her feet, her heart in her throat. Hesitant. Completely unsure.

The water is very wide, and very deep, and very cold, and very wet. And of all things, she can’t help but think this would be either terribly fitting, or just terrible, for a disgraced child of the sun.

Lt. Jee passes by, and she has to turn and acknowledge.

“Lieutenant.”

“Princess,” he returns, calm even as she turns her face away sharply. “Captain,” he continues, corrects, and she has to look back at him, away from the cold lapping of the sea.

“I can’t help but think this would be- counterproductive,” he says, and Zura’s face burns, embarrassed and white.

Lieutenant-“ she starts, but can’t finish. Tell him what? It’s none of his business? What does he know about banishment, overwhelming shame? He’s one of the men trapped here on board with her.

“I’ve been listening amongst the men- some of them have daughters around your age,” Jee says, cool as the evening air. “And some of them have expressed concern-“

“They’re trapped out here with me,” she says bleakly. “A dead-end assignment without advancement or honor or glory. I can hardly bring my bad influence home to their female relatives-“

“I think you misunderstand me,” Lt. Jee continues, soothing, low. He never breaks military posture, and that’s somehow more comforting than any amount of smothering hugs. “Their concern, their fear, is not so much for the shame that their daughters might have, were they to come to such a pass- but the fear it brings, and the pain. They love their daughters- they don’t want to see them hurt by things beyond their control.”

He can’t mean that. It’s all her fault, the mistakes, the speaking out, the disrespect, the kid she can’t even- “They were my decisions. How were they beyond my control?”

“You are fifteen. Whatever your reasons for being here- at least some of them have come from how you were guided. And your decisions haven’t been all bad. Some of us- not just us old-timers, mind- think it’s been a hard hand you’ve been dealt.”

The princess glances back at the rail, mouth set, cold moonlight playing on her face.

“Captain. Zura-“ Were it her brother the prince, he knows that familiarity would get him a blast of flesh-melting heat to the face. “Please. Allow me- as a subordinate, as your lieutenant- to do my job and take stock of the situation for you. You have an esteemed uncle who wishes nothing but the best for you. You have the world and a ship to see it in. You have, and this is not meant as a chain but as- an opportunity not to pass on a bad hand- you have a child on the way.”

“What have I got to offer it? I’m banished- not to come home until I have the Avatar in hand, who hasn’t been seen in a hundred years! I brought shame on my house and my country! How can I possibly fix this? For it, for me, for anybody?!”

“If you leave now, we’ll never know.”

Zura stares at him, trying to keep her face from crumbling, breaking down. The lieutenant changes stance, moving to half-catch, half-accept her ragged embrace. They stand there for a while, him holding, her shaking quietly.

“You’re stubborn- that much we’ve seen,” Jee states quietly, and rubs a slow, small circle on her back. “Princess Zura, who never starts a task but doesn’t finish it, even if she has to run headfirst into a brick wall fifty times to do it. The men are divided on thinking of you as the mascot or as the leader they’re going to want to follow in a few years. They all think it’s a rough thing, to be away from home and family in such a delicate way.”

She rests her forehead against his armor, tears running down her face. He rests a hand gently on her stomach, other arm braced around his captain’s shaking shoulders.

“You’ll be wanting some warm wine and a little extra supper, I think,” he says, and guides her to his quarters as a guest. When she’s well-fed and sleepy, a little too sleepy, he picks her up and takes her back to her own stateroom, tucking her in as if she were his own daughter.

He goes to General Iroh in the wee hours of the morning, and the Dragon of the West is wide awake, although unrested.

“Lieutenant?”

“I was thinking, sir- that it might be time to pull in somewhere and find a village with a good healer. The princess will want a woman or two around in her time of need.”

The old man, heavily aged from the triumphant portraits Jee remembers as a child, nods. “I think I know just the place. We can be there in three days and stay until my niece is on her feet again.”

Jee nods, and accepts the coordinates to give to the helmsman. When he turns to leave, the general’s last words stop him.

“Lieutenant. Thank you.”

Date: 2009-12-09 06:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] floranna.livejournal.com
I am hugging myself and torn between crying and laughing. I am overjoyed of seeing a new part and near crying for how you wrote it. I could go to Zura's head and feel her, the thought of suicide and her desperationa nd understand her.

Thank you for this.

Date: 2009-12-09 07:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] weirdlet.livejournal.com
You're welcome. I hope it wasn't too painful- it just felt like the right part of the story.

This, too, passes.

Date: 2009-12-09 07:17 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] floranna.livejournal.com
Yeah I meant that. I have been in that same situation (not banished nor teen-age pregnancy), the feeling of hopelessness, the feeling no matter what things won't change for better and you would do a world a favour for not existing anymore.

It didn't hurt TOO badly, just the right amount. But I always take suicides and suicide-attempts and thoughts more seriously.

Date: 2009-12-09 07:22 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] weirdlet.livejournal.com
*nod* And I try to treat them with respect- I haven't ever been quite that close to the edge, but I've been in places where I could see, if something didn't change, that the stories always ended badly or very close to it.

Date: 2009-12-09 07:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] floranna.livejournal.com
Yeah. I am not sure if you know, but i tried to kill myself seven months ago. My story is still kinda halfway, because the wish to kill myself hasn't yet vanished, but I am now better.

Off-topic, sorry...

Date: 2009-12-09 07:47 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] weirdlet.livejournal.com
*nod* I saw that on your journal, that's why I put up the warning note.

Date: 2009-12-09 07:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] floranna.livejournal.com
As I said, it's not a problem for me to read if it's handled well.

Date: 2009-12-09 07:53 pm (UTC)

Date: 2009-12-09 07:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] weirdlet.livejournal.com
I'm glad that you're finding this well-handled, and I'm glad you're here to enjoy it. I hope that doesn't sound narmy- it's just so.

Date: 2009-12-10 04:13 pm (UTC)
permetaform: (Default)
From: [personal profile] permetaform
wow.

beautiful and gracefully done. very nice.

Date: 2009-12-10 09:19 pm (UTC)
permetaform: (Default)
From: [personal profile] permetaform
=) yw. Truly, this whole series is very gracefully done. It could've so easily turned trite or shallow or unoriginal but you've kept it...graceful. It's rich without being overbearing, at times spare without being empty, and subtle without being obscure.

I know I haven't commented on every bit so please know that you've been consistently impressing me with the others. So really, thank *you*.

Date: 2009-12-10 09:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] weirdlet.livejournal.com
^___^

I'm so glad you're enjoying it so much. I hope I can keep up to that standard as it continues to grow.

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