Sup. A second part within the week? My, my, my, I'm on a roll. This fic is cross-posted on and special posts and details can be found on my tumblr. Both accounts are under the same name and everyone is welcome to come poke me to see what I spit out.
Princess Ursa goes into labour after dusk.
It's early. The baby isn't expected for another week or so, until early Spring, but Nanny Sora – Midwife Sora tonight – ushers the princess to sit and breathe and stay calm while the nurses prepare for the birth. More than once a nurse forgets herself and lets her tongue flap about bad omens in the princess' hearing. Midwife Sora takes one look at the pale, drawn look of fear on the girl's face, clutching at her middle and eyes brimming with tears not entirely from the pain, and rounds on the nurse, sending the woman packing with a few choice words at a not entirely appropriate volume.
Midwife Sora returns to the princess, pats her hand softly, and moves on to continue preparing.
Prince Zuko cries with the grey dawn of a Winter morning. Midwife Sora's heart stops and her chest burns with a held breath. The prince keens like a baby kitten-gator and squirms bonelessly in Sora's arms.
The other nurses have already finished cleaning and left, leaving Sora, the newborn prince and Princess Ursa alone together. The princess' face is wan and pale, cleaned of sweat but beneath her eyes is smudged from the lack of sleep. Sora forces herself to step towards the princess, each step weighing heavier than the last. The prince is still keening and Princess Ursa's face pinches in concern, moving to sit up.
"Don't strain yourself, dearie," Sora says. Her voice cracks partway through. The princess struggles to sit up so Sora pushes her back down with a hand to her shoulder.
"Is something wrong with him?" Ursa asks. Her voice is hoarse from screaming but her voice carries well despite it. Sora hesitates. The pause is long enough for Ursa's face to collapse in a curious mixture of fear and sadness and steely determination. "There is, isn't there? He's not crying right."
Sora shakes her head and hands the baby over. Settled against his mother's breast, the boy's crying stops, abruptly replacing itself with tired, contented coos. It's a much more human sound, and it's painfully familiar to Sora. The abrupt transitions from dragon to human and back again is unique to childhood, before the children really start to understand humans and being human.
Tears prickle at Sora's eyes and she dashes them away with the heel of her palm. "No, your highness. There's nothing wrong with him." It's been so long since she's held her cubs. Sora looks upon Ursa's cub enviously and turns away.
The door opens without a knock or ceremony. Fire Lord Azulon sweeps into the room, Prince Ozai on his heel. Sora bows low and retreats away to stand against a wall.
Fire Lord Azulon looms above the princess and his grandson, face impassive, hands hidden away in his voluminous sleeves. The pale light of early morning throws his aged face into shadows, making him look decades older. The Prince hovers in the shadows cast by his father, something curling his mouth down, pinching his brows low over his eyes.
"I trust my grandson is in good health, daughter," Azulon says. His voice carries like a much younger man's, there's a strength to it that's missing from his bones. Princess Ursa flicks her gaze to Sora for just a moment before she nods, jaw set firmly.
"He's strong and healthy, just a little early," Ursa replies. Azulon nods, glances at Sora. She bows under his eye.
"Good." Azulon holds out his hands and Ursa obliges, setting the baby in the Fire Lord's arms. The prince stirs and opens his eyes. Pale, pale yellow, just like all newborns. His eyes catch the sun streaming in through the window. Sora holds her breath.
"No spark." Fire Lord Azulon says it plainly, neutrally. Almost clinically. He turns to offer the child to Prince Ozai. Ursa stiffens. Prince Ozai turns up his nose and keeps his hands tucked inside his sleeves. Azulon continues speaking as if he hadn't noticed and returns the squirming newborn to his mother. "It was always a possibility with a nonbender for a mother." The Fire Lord turns away and Sora bows once more. "The next should be a firebender."
"Yes, Fire Lord," Princess Ursa says. Sora doesn't dare look up as Fire Lord Azulon hovers in the doorway. A rustle of heavy cloth.
"What is his name?"
"Zuko, Fire Lord." Sora glances up at the princess' bowed head from beneath her eyelashes.
A hum. Acknowledged. "Very good." The men sweep out of the room and the door falls shut leaving Sora alone with the princess and the newly named Prince Zuko. Sora remains with her head down for several heartbeats, even though the echo of the closing door has already faded. She glances towards the princess, who lays slumped in bed, propped up only by a few pillows, cradling the infant prince close and caressing the soft dark hair splashed across his crown.
"What's wrong with my son?" Sora almost doesn't hear it at first, as quiet as the whisper was. Doesn't want to have heard it. But as she meets the princess' eyes, tired, sad, sad eyes, Sora knows. The princess needs to know.
Sora lets out a breath, a steady firebending breath, and moves to take the seat by the bed. For what it's worth, Ursa is patient, letting Sora take her time to gather her thoughts.
"There's nothing wrong with the prince, your highness," Sora says at last. She's quiet. So quiet. Her words hardly disturb the air. Her lips hardly move. "My children were the same."
"Your children?" Ursa asks. They pause when Zuko stirs in his sleep, reaching towards Ursa's face with one chubby fist. Ursa pets it gently and when it's clear that he won't wake she nods to Sora.
"They were dragons." Ursa's shoulders bunch around her ears and she looks down on her son, brows furrowed and mouth agape.
"But the Fire Lord said-"
"They don't have the spark," Sora interrupts gently. "Dragons never do." Ursa sits in contemplative silence, stroking Zuko's hair and taking in every detail of his face.
"There hasn't been a dragon born to the Fire Nation since Prince Iroh killed the last of the wild ones." Ursa meets Sora's eyes. There's tears brimming in the princess' eyes. "Agni gave us the gift of humanity for a reason. Zuko can't be a dragon. He's a prince of the blood. He can't be. He can't." Ursa slackens, turns her face back to her baby, and watches him, her bottom lip trembling. Sora laces her fingers together, runs her eyes over the sleeping babe's face. There's a feeling of pity welling in her chest deep, deep down. No mother deserves to lose her child, not at all, especially not after mere hours of being together. On the other hand… they both have a duty to their Fire Lord.
Sora lifts her chin and rests a gentle hand on Princess Ursa's arm. "You have a choice to make, my lady." The princess looks up at her curiously, eyes red with tears.
"Your loyalty or your life."