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*
From above Zuko's quarters... comes the soft twang of a four-stringed pipa plucked.
And, of course, boisterous laughter from Zuko's men.
Iroh left for the docks when they anchored, he guesses. Zuko found his uncle's written scroll neatly propped onto Zuko's dusty bedroll:
Ah...
Zuko has asked something of Lieutenant Jee as well...
*
He meditates alone for several minutes longer into the evening, before opening his eyes, Zuko's breath silently releasing.
The row of candles in front of him slowly dim, flames extinguishing smoky.
It was never hidden from Zuko's knowledge...
For the past three years, the crew working on Zuko's vessel only ever followed because of General Iroh. A strong leader. A renowned war hero. If Zuko wanted to show himself as capable, and become redeemable, he would need to... make personal sacrifices. Trustworthy ones.
Unable to put it off longer, Zuko stands and grips his dark red robes in closer.
He huffs.
Spirits help us.
*
Warmer weather tends to invite everyone onto the main deck.
Everyone usually but Zuko...
He observes one of the firebender soldiers squatting down, roasting milkfish.
The helmsman helpfully shares a bowl of rice with another man, slapping his back, cracking a ill-timed joke Zuko doesn't hear. Supplies run low. Zuko hopes that while his uncle spends coins on a local tea shop... he also picks up considerably more useful provisions.
Conversations settle, quieting, as Zuko marches over.
His head lowers in a feeble sign of respect.
Zuko's pale feet bare in the moonlight.
They stare noticably at first, then the engine room operator burps awkwardly loud, jerking forward.
Lieutenant Jee throws his head, belly-laughing, and the rest join in.
Voices lull together, continuing conversations.
Zuko takes a breath, the firelight brightening along with it, then dimming as he releases it to sit on a wooden crate.
The dark red-robed beizi to Zuko's shoulders tumbles off.
Evening's air gusts warm against naked, pale skin. Almost tingles. Zuko's groin tightens as a response. He immediately feels the helmsman's eyes wandering back curiously. But... not out of the harshness or the misplaced, often betraying, sense of lust Zuko expected in his father's soldiers.
"Prince Zuko..."
Lieutenant Jee leans over from his sitting-crate, beaming proudly, clapping Zuko's knee.
The gesture darkens Zuko's face as scarlet as Fire Nation silks.
"Welcome."
*
It would soon be dawn. Uncle Iroh's return... inevitable.
Zuko hastens to his private quarters below deck, lying down on his ship-cot, occasionally tossing and turning.
He thinks of them... all of them... carry similar burdens as Zuko. Men who were disgraced. Craving acceptance. And they treated Zuko with the honor Zuko himself questioned he could receive. Lieutenant Jee even offered to robe him again, whispering congratulations in Zuko's ear.
Fisting himself, Zuko imagines Lieutenant Jee's mouth wandering further...
Two of the firebenders encircling Zuko's nakedness...
A burning-hot finger slipping... inside...
Zuko pants out a curse, thrusting fast, swiping a thumb against his damp cockhead...
His heels dig sharply into Zuko's own bedroll...
All of them...
*