Flags of Our Fathers

With the announcement of the princess's pregnancy, speculations ran high…as did the list of potential fathers. People Azula had never seen before came out of the woodwork, banking on the princess's reputation for being fast and loose, proclaiming their part in the making of the royal baby.

But no one was fooled by these fakers. Despite being somewhat of a deviant, Azula was extremely selective when it came to the people who shared her bed.

That meant there were really only four candidates.

Jet was, perhaps, the most vocal of the harem.

"Of course the baby's mine," he declared loudly to anyone who'd listen. "Azula and I are in love. Only love can create a baby. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" He slung an arm around the grey-faced princess. She wasn't happy with anyone touching her these days. Instead, most of her attention and pent-up affection was lavished upon her new animal companion. It was an arrangement Kisu the cat was not impressed with.

In private, Jet would tenderly expound on his fathering abilities. "I'm an orphan, darling. I know what it's like to be alone." He put on his most benign look, eyes glittering with sparkly moisture. "I'd make sure Junior would never feel abandoned. He'd get all the love and hugs and rough 'n' tumble a growing boy needs…"

"Or girl," Azula cut in.

"What?"

"We don't know if it'll be a boy or a girl."

Jet tossed his head. "I only make boys, sugarcakes. Big, strong strapping ones, like me."

Azula socked the Freedom Fighter in the jaw before fleeing in a flurry of senseless tears.

Despite evidence to the contrary, wildly fluctuating hormones weren't the only cause of the princess's misery. The truth was, Azula honestly didn't know who the father was. She wasn't even sure how far along her pregnancy had progressed, and the doctors' estimates did nothing to clarify her child's paternity.

Her insecurity in this matter only made her cry more and harder. Never had she felt so alone and so vulnerable. That so many people were willing to take advantage of her in this state only magnified her anxiety to un-Azula-ish proportions.

Her father, of course, had his own take on the situation.

"Daughter, you must claim the child belongs to the Avatar," he insisted in that malevolent drawl Azula had once admired and sought to imitate. "Allying yourself with Avatar Aang will put you in a position of power over your worthless brother—"

"I don't care about power!" she snapped at him. "I just want my baby to have a father!"

"And what better father than the Avatar?" he soothed. "Aang is a wonderful…uh…" He peeked over at the monk, currently balancing a chair on his chin while dancing on an airball for a group of peace—er, war—delegates. "That is, Aang would be very…sympathetic to the child." He acted enough like one himself, after all.

"Zuko is the leader of the Fire Nation," Azula told him sharply. "His job is to lead our nation to glory. My job will be to raise my child." She cut him a scathing look. "I know my destiny now is to be a mother—and I'll be a far better parent than you ever were!" She flung herself away from her conniving father and pelted out.

Ozai sighed. He'd need to take a different tack if he was to secure any of his former power.

"Me? No, no, no, no, I don't think it could be me." Aang grinned sheepishly up at his ex-nemesis, scratching the back of his head. "I wasn't really part of her…um…harem. I was just there for moral support."

Until Toph came to visit, but no one needed to know that.

"But you must be fond of my daughter, yes?" Ozai pressed. "She's beautiful, intelligent, and an extremely powerful bender, as you're very well aware."

"Yeah." Aang grimaced, the scar on his back tingling. "I know that."

"Understand that I have a great deal of...respect for you, Avatar, and that, well, Azula is a…delicate creature, despite her diamond-hard exterior. Couldn't you see into your heart to cherish and maybe even—" Ozai swallowed back his gorge "—love her and her spawn…I mean, baby?"

Aang stared, jaw slack.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

On the other side of the palace, another talk of a similar nature was taking place.

"It wasn't me!"

Hakoda stared his son down, not sure whether or not to believe the boy. Sokka was, after all, a notorious lady killer, and he wouldn't put it past the boy to seduce the princess of the Fire Nation despite their history.

But none of that mattered in the political light of things.

"Sokka, listen to me." He gripped his shoulders. "Our family has been presented an extraordinary opportunity. If Princess Azula is carrying your child—"

"She's not!" Sokka screamed, tearing at his hair. "Why won't anyone believe me?"

"Sokka, the Fire Nation killed your mother!" Hakoda exclaimed harshly. "They nearly wiped us out! Don't you see? You can ensure it'll never happen again!"

The younger man stared. "Have you gone insane?" he asked in a strained voice. "What does any of this have to do with Mom?"

The Southern chief sat down with a heavy sigh. "Try to understand, Sokka. Blood is thicker than water. With Katara as the Fire Lady and you as the Prince Consort, the Fire Nation can't ever again pick a fight with the Southern Water Tribe—or the northern one, for that matter, since Gran-Gran is from the north.

"Don't you see? A generation from now, and every generation after that, the royal line will be seeded with Water Tribe blood! The Fire Nation would never attack the homeland of their rulers' ancestors." His eyes glowed with blue fire. "We would be safe forevermore! We could achieve now what the Avatar's been trying to accomplish for centuries! Everlasting peace! And all you have to do is claim to be the father of Azula's baby."

Sokka rubbed his temples. "Dad, this is crazy. I've never had any kind of relations with Azula. She'll confirm it."

"Will she? From palace gossip, the two of you aren't even speaking. Regardless of the truth, people make up their own stories, their own version of reality. Don't you think it'd be better for you to take control of the situation?" Hakoda implored. His eyes softened then. "You care about Azula, don't you?"

Sokka grumbled something.

"Sokka?"

"She's my sister-in-law," he returned flatly. "It's my duty to care."

But his words were no answer.

Of course, there was one last candidate. But no one encouraged him to step up as the father—he had no ambition to become the Prince Consort, and no one thought the simple Earthbending peasant would really be a worthy partner to the princess and father to an heir to the crown.

Too preoccupied with her pregnancy, Azula had stopped seeking him. Hell, she paid more attention to that damned cat. The palace servants all gave him strange, contemplative looks. Jet, Aang and Sokka had ceased communications with him. And whenever Ozai passed him in the halls, he could've sworn the man had reached out to touch his hair…possibly to set it on fire.

He knew he'd never really been welcome in the palace. The current Fire Lord obviously disliked him. Everyone else just tolerated him because of his position in the harem.

He'd never been anything more than a boy-toy. A plaything.

So Haru did what he thought any honorable man in his position would do.

He packed his bags and quietly left the palace.