weirdlet

I'd intended to toss one of these out there someday, only to find I was not alone, and held off to enjoy the others^^ So- if it please you, toss me a pairing/person and a prompt, and I'll see what I can cook up. Avatar fandom only, please, although if it's something I recognize I'll see what I can come up with.

Let's say two prompts per person, promise of one ficbit.

Don't be shy, it's all in good cracky fun!

(Standard warning about not being superfast applies.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

weirdlet.livejournal.com

The Firelord is young and strong, despite his struggles- or perhaps because of them. The Southern Chief is old and strong, and thinks that the boy with the pale skin and gold eyes will be a good man, sound and worthy- or perhaps he already is, and it’s just his own years that make the islander seem so very much at the start of his potential, barely tapped.

Hakoda isn’t drained to the dregs yet by any stretch. But the years pass, just a few, but one after another, and another Solstice meeting comes by. The extreme ends of the year belong to each others’ peoples and their celebrations, but the other two quarters are there to travel the world and work on international relations. What it boils down to is an excuse to have really rollicking parties and reassure everyone that the other side isn’t so bad anymore.

The Southern Tribe’s hosting this year, on the relatively neutral ground of Whale-Tail island. The air is nippy and the ground is frosted, but the joined camps aren’t buried in snow- even so, a lot of the activities are going to be inside around the firepits, as a sop to their easily-chilled guests. Hakoda greets them; Earth Kingdom merchant-nobles, his grown children and the Avatar, a young man now, and the lord of the nation that was once their greatest enemy. He greets them all, and feels old and nearly empty. It’s not a bad feeling- but it’s there, hanging about his lined face and grey-threaded hair.

The feasting goes on into the night.

There are negotiations and arguments, and stories and games and contests of skill, and dancing breaks out soon after the stronger wine does. Aang leads the first round, striding cheerfully by the fire; he is limned with blue arrows and ducking and weaving fit to grace the ballrooms of Ba Sing Se. More follow him, and the great tent is filled with laughing and stamping, men and women dropping their dignity and letting their feet fly. His son and his daughter-in-law practice a strange, scandalous dance from Omashu, whirling face to face in circles through the crowd. Even the young Firelord gets in on the act, bringing what’s been resurrected of the Fire Nation dancing tradition to the floor.

It seems to be designed to show him off like a hot stallion, and the awkwardness that had filled his first ruling years seems to be reserved only for close friends, now. Zuko is in his prime, neither untried nor overly worn, a glass more than half-full and brimming with strength and life.

Later, when the wine’s been drunk and the fire flickers and smoke swirls up to greet the beaming stars, Hakoda can’t help but ask for a sip.

…

The year turns, and it’s half again another before the leaders meet again at the same place, this time for more serious matters. There are several earth kingdoms that don’t wish to resubmit to the yoke of Ba Sing Se, rogue Water-tribesmen committing piracy, everyone must fuss and blame as well as dine and dance- it goes in cycles, the tone of these meetings. Hakoda simply attends and does his best to keep his people’s niche carved out while not making things more difficult than they have to be.

The Firelord’s representatives take the floor for the first few days, before the man himself arrives, quietly. Hakoda goes to greet him, between the end of a meeting and the start of dinner, and is taken aback.

Before, Zuko was brimming with life, enough to revive and revitalize an old chief missing his youth.

Now, he is full with it.

The Firelord stands in his tent, clad in red and cradling his stomach- it stands out from his warrior’s frame, although if he were to wear the full robes of his position it would be hard to tell. Hakoda wouldn’t say that age has made him set in his ways- but surely this is not happening.

“Um.”

…

From:

weirdlet.livejournal.com

“Well- sheesh, if this sort of thing happened to anyone it might’ve happened to Aang,” Sokka said, fiddling with his small beard. “Y’now, connection to the spirit world, angry forces of nature, lunar interference, all that spiritual mumbo-jumbo?” Katara rolled her eyes and elbowed him- he was chief of his own miniature tribe in Kyoshi and well-known as a man of the varying arts, but he could still be such an idiot at times.

“Actually, Sokka- it’s more a matter of who you’re descended from,” Aang replied, more calmly than his friend might have in his place. “I’ve been meditating and asking around my past lives- this does have precedent, and fairly common over the full course of history, but individually it was something pretty rare and very often kept quiet when it did happen.” The Air Nomad shifted from his perch on a trunk, stretching after the long sit-down while Sokka and Katara had gone briefly hysterical over the news, out of sight of the rest of the diplomatic gathering.

“It’s mostly in the Water and Fire peoples where it occurred- the Water tribes had specific forbidden circumstances or spirits that might induce such a pregnancy as part of a trickster’s joke, or simply unthinking, overwhelming fertility. The Fire Nation has some of that, but more in association with the dragons- some of the really ancient ones were supposed to be gods or spirits, and capable of changing shape, and all sorts of weird stuff crops up from there,” Aang continued. “Most of it’s faded away in the last few centuries, but there’s a strong tendency for whatever line is in power to be at least distantly related to a couple of half-dragon heroes.”

Katara was looking at her intended like he’d sprouted another head.

“What does that have to do with Zuko nailing Dad? And ending up pregnant, of all things?”

“For that matter- why was Dad nailing Zuko?” Sokka asked of the tiny assembly with widely flung arms. “I mean, no doubt about it, His Highness is a damn good friend, but- Zuko?”

“Guys, I think you’re missing the point here,” Aang said, voice smooth with years of diplomatic soothing. “The thing is- Zuko is our friend, as well as our ally. He needs our support- and it sounds like Hakoda will too. I think we should try and step back, and consider what needs doing before we go nuts about what we want to be happening.”

There wasn’t much arguing with that, although Sokka did get another elbow to the ribs after suggesting that someone had spiked the camp’s well with cactus juice.

…

They found both Hakoda and Zuko in the Firelord’s personal tent, standing out in grandeur amongst the rest of his delegation. The servants had apparently been dismissed; the old chief was standing by the head of the bed that had been assembled inside and Zuko was sitting beside him, but rose when they came in.

“Katara, Aang, Sokka,” Hakoda said in greeting, looking as though he wanted to say more, if only he knew what to say. Katara eyed her father in worry, but he seemed more startled and bemused than on the verge of anything dramatic. He wasn’t clutching his chest or rubbing his arm, at least.

“Thank you for- for coming,” said Zuko, the steady Trust-and-obey-me-I’m-good-Firelord voice of recent years gone and an echo of Shaky-but-grimly-holding-on-vulnerable-prince had taken its place. He moved to stand by his desk, hand resting on his stomach, and Katara’s eyes followed the motion.

No one said anything.

From:

weirdlet.livejournal.com

“Soooo,” Sokka finally tried. “You and Dad, huh?”

“Son,” Hakoda said flatly, and Zuko turned crimson, but answered.

“Yes. And I’m not apologizing or promising that it won’t happen again- barring him being unwilling. I just- I wanted you all to know what was going on.”

“Well, we know,” Sokka replied, glancing to his sister and his friend, desire to disbelieve plain on his face. Aang had a reasonable explanation, sure, but reasonable explanations did not soothe ‘my friend is knocked up by my father, which is physically impossible before spirits get involved, by the way’. “Now what do we do about it?”

Zuko looked like he was going to say something regrettable before Hakoda rested his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, line-framed face set calmly.

“The child belongs to the Firelord- to Zuko. And he’s pretty clear on what that entails- love, respect and I would hope the support of friends and family.”

“You have mine,” Aang said. He glanced at Katara, who looked between the lot of them as if unable to chose which to demand answers of first.

“What are your ministers going to say about this?” Sokka interjected. “Aren’t they going to want some sort of- formal treaty, or a wife to explain this away? Good grief, are they going to make you and Dad get married-?”

“They tried to force the issue with me and Mai,” Zuko said with a grim smile. “You saw how well that worked out.” There were three years left in her ten-year moratorium on all things marriage and politics, and she was still hunting pirates and kicking ass in Earth Kingdom dives. Independence suited her, and last year’s Midwinter gift had been to name her and her gang an auxiliary peacekeeping-unit, with a budget and everything. Her letter of thanks had been dry and suggested a few more interesting things that could have been done with the time she now spent record-keeping.

“Yeah, well-“

“No one is forcing anyone to anything,” Hakoda stated, sternly taking command. “Katara, I’m going to be giving you some more of the duties of chief’s heir- I think you’re ready for them, and I’m going to need to be free to move. Sokka, Aang- I’d like to speak with you together, please,” the older man said, stepping past them to leave the tent. The Avatar shared a look with his friend, and they both followed.

It left the two of them alone together. Zuko looked between the Southern Chief’s daughter and the surface of the desk where his fingers were curled in a tense fist. She stood with her arms uncrossed, drawing her eyes up to his with her mouth in a flat line. She stepped closer, and he bowed his head.

Katara grabbed the Firelord into a hug.

“Come on, let me look at you,” she said, not soothing but not scathing either. Zuko obliged, sitting down on the edge of the bed once she’d released him, and Katara uncapped her ever-present waterskin in a businesslike manner.

Glowing water clung to her hands- after the war had been settled she’d gone back to Yugoda to earn true mastery of healing, and Pakku as well. The brute strokes she’d advanced so quickly through had been sufficient to get them through the end-days of the war, but only just- and there was always more to learn and refine. Even Toph could admit that, off living wild with a colony of badgermoles for a year.

Zuko looked down at her, sitting with his shirt rucked up and Imperial dignity shut away somewhere in a closet for when it was needed again.

“Are you okay with this?” he had to ask.

Katara kept her head bowed over her work, easing healing energy in slow circles as she got a feel for both his and the baby’s chi, and the echoes of shape and form within.

“I’m- okay with you having a baby, weird as that is. I’m kind of okay with you having a kid who’s going to be half-Water Tribe, but still raised as your heir- I think you can manage to pull it off, especially if we get to help. You and Dad? My baby half-sib raised in that viper-web of a court? Still sitting there like a rock.”

“I really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know you didn’t. How could you?” There was silence for a while, as she worked over the taut surface of his abdomen.

From:

weirdlet.livejournal.com

“Dad’s going to want to be at your side. To help- and to make sure he has a hand in raising it.”

“I know.”

“Have you thought about what the court’s going to say?”

“Some of them will just be glad an heir’s being produced from somewhere. Others are going to fuss about how, and others who- it’s going to be a fight on my hands no matter what, like every decision. Most of them know something’s up, but until I make an official announcement, no one can really say anything.”

“Lean back-“

“That’s cold- uh. What are you-“

“Do you want to know which it is?”

“…don’t you usually need to cast a horoscope or something for that?”

Katara gave the mighty Firelord Zuko a glare with just one eyebrow cocked. He resolved not to quaver. “I’m a healer, not a fortune-teller. Water’s everywhere, remember? And Toph taught me a little about feeling the shapes through the vibrations…”

He paused, and she waited for his go-ahead.

“…I think I want the surprise. Just- tell me if there’s anything wrong. Or anything I can do better.”

“Will do.”

…

When they finished, Katara went to the tent-flap and met with the rest of them there. Sokka was looking twitchy, but in more of a ‘serious things abound’ way than ‘laugh off what I cannot comprehend’ fashion. Aang was looking serene- he practiced that a lot to get the right effect- but winked at her when she caught his eye.

Hakoda looked to her, a faint smile ghosting hopefully across his face.

“I’ll be heading to the Fire Nation capital for a while when the Solstice is done- working as a closer liaison about the pirate problem. Full diplomatic immunity, don’t worry.”

She caught him in a hug, much as she had Zuko, and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Be careful, Dad. And good luck.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Sokka put in, swallowing before he pulled in a breath and stood like the warrior he’d become. “Just try not to fall too hard for those Fire Nation wiles, huh? We would like you back eventually…” This time Hakoda pulled his son into the embrace, and smiled at his nervous joking.

“We will meet together as a family again. I promise that.”

The tentflap pulled aside and Zuko emerged, garbed against the island’s chill in robes and concealing cloak. He looked at his gathered friends, trying not to bite his lip like the nervous teenager he’d long outgrown.

“I promise.”