Title: A Drop of Blood
Author: LoveroftheFlame
Word Count: 628
Another fic inspired by the #50 Historical challenge at theavatar100
"My love, it simply cannot be. It is forbidden for us to wed. In your country and mine."
"I don't care. I will find a way."
Her eyes filled with tears, "Perhaps, perhaps you could just take me for your mistress…" She knew what the answer would be.
"No. I love you too much to do that to you. You will be my wife!"
OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO
He remembered the first time he had ever seen her. His father had sent him on a Grand Tour before he would have to settle down and learn the way of leadership. "Sow some oats." After making his way through the conquered Water Tribe territory, he explored the ancient Air Temples and now he was in the Earth Kingdom. Attending of all things, a Ball of Sirene. It had been amazingly difficult to arrange an invitation but after his father's name was dropped and more than a few coins passed hands he was announced.
Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation.
She was standing with her grandmother, a dusky skinned, regal woman with a calculating glint in her eye. As he approached, her cultured voice flowed over him as she swept into a deep curtsy, "My Lord, allow me to introduce my granddaughter, Katara."
The most breathtakingly beautiful cerulean eyes sparkled at him from above an exquisitely fashioned lace fan. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a carefully coiffed chignon with a few artfully arranged curls teasing her shoulders. She demurely lowered her lashes before sweeping into a graceful curtsy.
"My Lord."
He felt a shiver go down his spine. Her voice was like silk on satin. For a moment he could not speak.
Swallowing hard he asked, "May I have this dance?"
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. He was in love. For several weeks after that he paid her carefully chaperoned visits at her home on Rampar Street. She was everything he had ever dreamed a woman to be, demure yet fiery, with a sense of humor that lightened his jaded heart. And so beautiful that it tested his control just to be in the same room with her. He felt like a man obsessed and was reveling in it. His father had sent him on his way to bring back experience but he was determined to bring back this girl as his bride. There were real problems with this of course, the main one being that she was of the Water Tribe. As a people they were considered inferior, slaves in this land. She had her freedom, it was true, but could never be more than some rich man's paramour. The very ball he met her at was nothing more than a pretty market with brightly colored birds of paradise for sale. As prince he was expected to marry someone of his own stature, perhaps an Earth Kingdom princess, but he didn't want that life. He wanted her.
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The idea came to him in an odd way. They were spending the afternoon together under the watchful eye of her grandmother when Katara pricked her finger with her sewing needle. A small bead of blood welled up and he brought the offended digit to his lips. Blushing she said softly, "Now we are one." At the time the words heated his blood in anticipation of a greater fulfillment. But later he knew that was the answer he had been searching for. In this world if you had even a drop of Water Tribe blood in you, you were considered Water Tribe. And only they could freely marry one another.
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She cried as he cut his arm. "Katara, give me your finger."
OooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO
On the wedding record he signed his name.
Zuko of the Water Tribe.
End.