A/N: Good morning/evening…. Afternoon? Either way, no matter where you are in the world, I hope you're well!
Welcome to the final rewrite of Believing In Lies. The original was written over five years ago-by a less experienced me. I loved the story idea, and it had stuck with me ever since. And so I have decided to give it-and myself-another chance.
And while I've got your attention the on the A/N(s), I would just like to introduce my fantastic beta reader, Ana-DaughterofHades. An incredible writer, and a truly inspirational beta reader. I would recommend her to anyone! If you enjoy what you read-remember that she had a lot to do with it.
Thank you, my friend. I owe you greatly! ^^
Fire. 火
火-水-土-空-闪
Summary: Having lost his memories, Zuko wakes up to find himself surrounded by little more than vaguely familiar faces. Lies begin to spiral out of control; until they finally become too much for even the GAang to believe. Rated T. Zutara! Slight AU. Rewrite of the 2013 original.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own A:tLA, and claim no payment from writing this story.
Fire. 火
火-水-土-空-闪
"Believing In Lies", by
Fire's Ashes
Prologue:
"To Heal The Heart Of An Enemy"
火-水-土-空-闪
"Am I really the only one here who thinks that I'm not being completely unreasonable-or am I just talking to myself? Could someone please enlighten me!" Sokka simply couldn't believe it. He was dumbfounded and clearly unaware of his arms waving about as he said his piece. Someone must have realized by now that this was only going to get a lot worse, if experiences were anything to go by, but even with that over-looming complexity hanging in the air… neither of them, it would seem, had learned.
He was past caring about the whys and the what ifs. Though Sokka had properly forgotten about the last disagreement they'd had on a similar subject. Nevertheless, it was still fresh in Katara's mind, and all she could do was roll her eyes at Sokka's defiance. To her, this was just a repeat performance of the last time. Though she was trying her best to ignore this particular outburst. Not wanting to shout. She simply wasn't in the mood for one of her brother's famous tantrums. Obviously, the message wasn't getting through his thick skull.
Aang, on the other hand, didn't say a word, facing away from his friend, transfixed and completely oblivious to what Sokka was saying. Despite this, Sokka continued. Blatantly annoyed, he made sure that was very clear to both his sister and his friend, who-in his mind-continued to purposely dismiss him.
Sokka's verbal outcries were not uncommon, nor were they called for. But he had an opinion, and by the Spirits above, he was going to voice them, which was no surprise to those on the receiving end either.
"Let me remind you both that this thing here is our enemy! Which is obvious to anyone with a brain cell, I'm sure." Sokka's voice would periodically crack as he ranted, causing him to stall every so often. His tanned cheeks turned a crimson red, shining perfectly in the sunlight as he quickly tried to turn away. And for a few moments, he felt some relief in their dismissal. He was going to take something for himself that day, even if it was simply keeping his pride intact.
Of course, he was still embarrassed that he could not control his voice yet. He was a man, and his maturity should indeed reflect that very fact. No matter how important that seemed, it paled in comparison to the anger and disbelief he felt now, however. He looked back, trying to act surprised that the two of them were still playing mother hen to that monster. He groaned. Why was he still trying to make his presence known? Surely they understood where he was coming from. He needed to up his game. He needed to be more obvious. If that was even possible.
And so he pointed, rather overdramatically, at the unconscious body of the Prince of the Fire Nation. "This is Zuko," he whispered slowly, now closer. His sister sighed, turning her head away. Her expression was clearly giving her brother a hint to shut up. Despite this, there was no end in sight. "A man who has been on our asses since day one! A man who kidnapped you, Katara. A man who has repeatedly tried to capture you, Aang." He looked at each of them as he mentioned the raw facts. Aang must have had his reasons, sure, but Katara was simply fed up with hearing his voice, right or not. "He is a Firebender, and guess what? We don't help injured Firebenders!" Sokka now stood, walking backward, his hands on his head, breathing in and out slowly-trying to calm himself.
But by now it was obvious that he wasn't going to stop with just that, and Katara knew that she would have to be the one to tell him. Aang still wasn't talking and she couldn't take it any longer.
"Sokka!" He now looked at her, more shocked that she had finally acknowledged him in all truth. "You've made your point, now stop!" Katara's voice snapped harshly.
By her reaction alone he knew not to say another word. He just needed to shut his mouth and open his ears. She had that look in her eyes, a look he had grown accustomed to over the years. Her deep blue eyes were glued to his. Without saying another word, she was able to get across to him that she had enough of him continuously going on. Getting the message rather quickly, Sokka sighed somewhat heavily in defeat, but he wouldn't give in.
For a small moment, Katara believed he couldn't possibly be stupid enough to push further, but she knew her brother and she knew he would disagree with the "stupid" part entirely. He would try until the bitter end. For his own reasons.
"You know-!" He was ready to defend his argument, but Katara was faster and held her hand up to stop her brother mid-sentence, which frustrated him to no end. "But..." His second attempt didn't seem to reflect the enthusiasm he had shown only moments earlier, and it showed in his stature. Shaking her head, Katara also showed regret for her outburst but held firm, to show her brother that there was no need for his own reaction.
"We are just seeing if he is still alive, nothing more. Personally, I agree with you. He is our enemy, and yes, of all people, this is Zuko. But if he was anyone else, we wouldn't let them suffer. We're not like them, Sokka, and we need to prove that." Taking a deep breath to calm her own nerves, she paused, also allowing her brother to take in what she was saying.
He was shaking his head; a clear irritation had become present in his features, and to an extent understandably so, and she understood that more than anybody else could. "By the looks of it, Sokka, he's dying. You wouldn't want to die alone and neither would I. No matter how strong we sometimes pretend to be." Her voice suddenly came off as sweet, almost caring, and it reminded Sokka of their mother.
A bittersweet silence soon followed.
Once she was sure Sokka was quite, she gave him a look that only a sister could, telling him that she truly did recognize what he was saying. But he now took his turn to ignore her, turning away to watch the sea. Even with his back to her, Katara could tell his resentment was born from tragedy-a tale she too had experienced-and the regret manifested so clearly in his body language. This alone was what made Sokka so stubborn. But on the other hand, it had also made him fearless. There was no doubt in her mind: her brother was brave... and he tried so hard to show it. She was so proud of him, and she hoped he knew that, no matter their arguments.
She honestly believed he deserved to know. To be told he was being the hero he had always told their dad he was going to be one day. But she knew he was too hurt to listen, and unfortunately there was no time to convince him of such a thing right now, so she took the few precious moments she had to turn her attention to Aang, who was now looking directly at her. Visibly, his smile showed her that he agreed with her words. His eyes, however, showed sympathy for Sokka, who, no matter how much he shouted, was, in some respect, right in what he said.
If she too was truthful, she would have admitted there were plenty more things she would rather be doing at this moment in time. But Aang had insisted, and yet, despite her annoyance with her brother, she would confess that she did agree with him. Though, deep down, her morals didn't, and she would never be able to live with herself if she let someone else suffer for the sake of her own hatred. No matter who they were or what nation they hailed from. She didn't quite understand Aang's persistence but she had given into him regardless.
Zuko, being a prince, was capable of anything. Regardless, she wanted to see where Aang was going with all this. She knew it was in his nature. She had never seen him cause anyone any harm for his own gain. Aang wasn't like that. There was just so much pressure on him… on all of them, in fact, and she knew it took its toll. Though she knew his heart was in the right place, and Katara tried her best to remember that.
"Katara?" Aang's voice pulled her attention to him once again. He was kneeling over Zuko, simply watching his chest rise and fall. It was out of rhythm, tainted with pain, out of sync due to the burden it held.
Aang didn't lift his head this time, however, and Katara could literally feel her chest becoming bloated from worry.
"You ok, Aang?" She asked. He responded with a noticeable silence, like he hadn't heard her speak. Katara gave her brother a worried glance, for Aang's unresponsive nature had caused even him to turn and look, but all Sokka could offer was a shrug in return. Then he returned his glance to the sea.
Once again, the silence resumed. This didn't mean the world stopped; waves still rushed to the shore and birds still flew high above, occasionally blocking the sun's blistering heat. Their silence, their confusion… this world didn't have a care for those things, nor for them. Though, the Spirits still watched. They whispered to Aang as they danced to the wind's tune. Then there was nothing, a cruel reminder of the situation at hand, and that they truly were alone in their decision.
After a considerable amount time of getting nowhere, a great howl of wind rushed passed, lifting as much sand across the far-flung beach as it could possibly muster. Small rocks turned, and some even crashed into each other. Aang took notice of this. A reaction to their silence? To their incompetence? Aang didn't move. Finally taking his eyes away from the prince, he listened for any sign of hidden answers upon the unnaturally cold wind.
Or maybe it was just a coincidence? He couldn't tell and he didn't dare try to guess. It was not his place.
"His injuries, they're grave," Katara spoke tenderly, breaking the silence once again. However, she might as well have been talking to herself, for neither her brother nor Aang reacted to her sudden observation.
Sokka sighed, though more out of a tiredness-he was done fighting his losing battle, and with it, he found himself wondering if the world knew of its losing battle, too, and whether it was at the same point that he was. Did the other nations not see the horizon? The thick tension in the air could choke even the most resilient of people to the point of desperation. Normally he would have wanted nothing more than to agree with himself, but uncharacteristically, he hoped he was wrong. This was a battle that no one in the three remaining nations could afford to lose. Not for anything. Not even for his ego.
From there Sokka side glanced the pair; understanding where his younger sister was coming from was key to his acceptance of this. It was hard. So damn hard. But he returned to his previous thoughts, remembering how he had called himself "a man" before, and realising only then that he wasn't being what he so often praised himself for being. He, in all truth, was a teenager. Nothing more, and he still had so much to learn. Maturity? That was the definition of his sister. Even Aang at the best of times didn't act his age... and he was a kid! Who was he compared to those two?
He glanced at the ground, his cheeks flushing with more embarrassment. He felt damaged in those few moments. He came to realise then that he was no one special. Even Zuko, for all his bravado, was more impressive than him. That caused his gut to turn. Somehow that hurt more than anything else.
"Sokka?" He looked up to see Katara standing next to him. She looked worried. That was when he put up his front, but he knew she could see right through it. Yeah, he was annoyed, and maybe his anger wasn't justified right now-he could admit that-but he couldn't be mad at them for trying to be good people.
Maybe he was more bothered at himself for not being the better person. Then, without warning, his sister hugged him. He relaxed a little, returning the jester. Aang now stood, smiling properly for the first time that day.
As Katara let her brother go, Aang felt that he should at least say something, knowing this was hard on the siblings.
"We're not gonna act without you, Sokka. We trust your instincts, after all."
Sokka couldn't help but smile at that comment, remembering the whole situation with Jet. Katara also let out a small giggle. Sokka had been right that day, and they had both trusted him with their lives ever since.
"You may question your value, but to us, you're pretty awesome, Sokka."
It was like Sokka had forgotten his problems. He appreciated what the kid was trying to do.
"Thanks, Aang."
"No problem," he chirped happily.
A slight pause ensued, as if they didn't want to leave the happy moment behind. But Aang knew the question had to be asked. Zuko, if they were to help him, didn't have much time left.
"So, what were you thinking?" Aang became serious. Sokka exhaled, giving in, and looked to his sister, who nodded. The moment of happiness was gone.
"My instincts tell me that you guys think helping him is the right thing to do, and as much as I disagree with that, there's enough death and hatred in this world right now. I shouldn't add more, especially if both can be avoided."
"That's very grown up of you, Sokka," Katara admitted, sending him a smile.
"Well…" The word came off as another sigh. "It's probably time to grow up."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. It's good to act your age sometimes. It's how we learn," Aang added.
"Would you stop with all the old-aged wisdom, and start following your own advice, huh?" Aang laughed, promising to do just that as long as Sokka stopped pouting. He walked slowly back towards Aang, sending him a nod of acknowledgement. "Let's get this over with…"
火-水-土-空-闪
The boiling hot sun beat down upon their exhausted bodies, making sure they never forgot about its damning presence on the land. Even under the fabric of their clothing, the sand felt uncomfortably hot on their knees, causing some frustration with having to move every ten minutes or so. Sokka was the one who was most vocal about this. The occasional breeze would greet them however, reminding them that not all things had to be a painful battle, that not everything was against them.
Katara checked the prince's pulse for the third time in under an hour, just to make sure that her healing wasn't doing more damage than good. In some rare cases, things weren't meant to be healed so quickly. This-when it happened- caused a nasty shock that most never recovered from. The body would heal in its own time; she was just here to get him out of the worst of it, so he could survive long enough to actually heal on his own as nature intended. In all honesty, she was more surprised that they'd even found him alive. At first glance, the only thing that indicated his survival was his chest, which occasionally rose and fell.
Katara would give Zuko credit where it was due; he was a fighter.
The boys had already removed most of the prince's armor. This was vital in helping Katara see how bad things truly were. However, most of the armor was beyond repair, damaged with what could have only been described as blunt force. It was severely cracked and parts hung open, making its use void. Its steel frame was bent and its edges gripped tightly against his underclothes, making removing it extremely difficult. Katara removed the last of the ripped fabric from his chest, revealing what she had feared most. She reacted quickly and lifted some clean water out of her pouch and pressed it against one of the wounds. She had to stop the bleeding!
He's been bleeding out this whole time!? Her mind went into overdrive, questioning how she hadn't thought to check before.
A sudden force of guilt pressed hard against her chest; it was like she had forgotten how to breathe. The sudden realisation that Zuko was so close to dying somewhat startled her. Once the water had stopped glowing under her palms, she removed them slowly to check her handy work; he was no better off, but at least the bleeding had been stopped. Why did she panic? It wasn't as if his death would affect her in a negative way. She would gladly be rid of him, even!
Then why am I helping him?
The question echoed in her mind. It wasn't an unfair point. Here she was healing her enemy. But there had to be a reason beyond Aang's insistence to help, surely. After all, she had been given a choice. What was she thinking? Did she simply feel sorry for a dying man or was it because she knew she would miss his constant presence? She couldn't give an answer, for she was too frightened to accept that it could be the second of the two. Katara pushed it to the back of her mind. As of yet, she didn't even know if she was a skilled enough healer to help, let alone save him.
Zuko's chest still rose and fell in its unpleasant way, and his skin was somewhat wet to the touch. The sun would have dried off any seawater by now. Though, it wasn't hot enough to cause such a sweat, and so naturally she went and touched his forehead. A hot muggy feeling could be felt under her hand; it was as she suspected. He had a fever. Whether it was life-threatening or not was yet to be seen, but she asked Aang to get some cloth out of Sokka's pack nevertheless. It was never wise to leave a fever untreated, no matter how insignificant it may seem to be. She moved back to inspecting his chest as she waited.
Three stab wounds lay within the region of his abdomen, and with them bore three deep gashes that lay across the left side of his chest, cutting deep into the pure muscle. Two were dry, placed upon bruising, the third recently healed by her. The bruising on his chest itself was bad enough, but was also clear on his collarbone, right shoulder, and under his ribs.
And then there were the burns. His neck was the worst off; it spread up right under his chin. A single cut brandished his lip, and dried blood lay just over his right eyebrow. She found more bruising around his eyes. Following the burns back down, they travelled to the right. The blood that rested upon them was turning dark and Katara suspected internal injuries. She would have to begin healing now if that was the case. It was hard to see with all the blood and the burns, but she would get him cleaned up and then assess the extent of what was hiding afterwards. Most people died due to injuries that healers could not see with the naked eye. Katara would be fool to just assume that his injuries didn't extend further just because she couldn't see them. She wouldn't get anywhere working in the dark, however.
"Sokka. In your pack that Aang's near, there should be a bowl. It had your fish sticks in from the market. Could you please get it and fill it with sea water?"
"On it." He didn't look happy that he'd been asked to move from his rock; it had taken him so damn long to get comfortable. But he did what was asked of him regardless. Sokka understood that his sister was under some considerable stress.
"How are you doing?" Aang asked as he returned with the requested cloth. He handed it to her. It was already damp and Katara was grateful for her friend's forward thinking. Between Zuko's injuries and her over-thinking, she was just glad someone was willing to go the extra mile.
"Thank you, Aang. This should help a lot!" Her response was heavy but not ungrateful. She placed the cloth on the prince's forehead and then politely told Aang she needed space to do her work. He left without another word, but Katara noticed that he had left with a smile, so she knew she hadn't snapped at him.
Sokka returned moments later with the bowl, probably wishing that there was more than just sea water in it. Naturally, due to his appetite, he had eaten all food from that bowl within a day of getting it, which he had only come to regret now.
"Here. For his royal ass-ness," Sokka sarcastically spoke, trying to add a sort of regal tone to the edge of his words and then performing a courtesy as he slowly walked away.
It didn't make any sense and Katara tried to act serious; she really did! Though it may have been a little funny... and she couldn't help that the corner of her lip twitched into a faint smile. Katara genuinely shook her head, trying to remember how inappropriate her brother was being.
As much of a pain Zuko was, it was hard to imagine making this journey without him. As stupid as it sounded, it was as if he had become a part of it. And she had to remember that he could still die at any moment. Her expression suddenly tightened into a frown, a lump forming in her dry throat. She cleared it quickly and tried to forget how she was acting, reminding herself that she was being absolutely ridiculous. She extracted the salt from the salt-water, as this in large amounts could cause a moisture to build up considerably around the wound, risking infection.
The day wore on considerably quickly; the sun no longer had a foothold in the mists of the sky. A cooling air had replaced the once arid heat and the sand had begun to cool. Katara wiped her brow. She was exhausted. It had taken hours to get Zuko stable, but she was nevertheless proud of herself. His wounds were clean, bandaged, and… he was still alive! She had even gone to the effort of removing the excess water from his ponytail, drying it and neatly placing it as it was intended to be. Or so she thought. Everyone had different preferences, but it had always been key for recognizing Zuko on the battlefield and she simply placed it as she remembered it from those moments alone.
In the meantime, Aang had gone to get Appa, leaving Sokka to care for his sister.
"You done, sis?" He gave her a half shout from his rock. When he got no answer and his sister didn't acknowledge him, he only then decided to walk over. When he got there, he could see how tense she truly was. Sokka knelt down beside her, looking at her with a bemused look. She was still hard at work, despite her obvious exhaustion. He placed a hand on her shoulder, letting her know he was here for her. She needed rest.
"I'll get you some water. Aang will be back soon. Then you can sleep." He left, but soon found himself glancing back, a little worried for his sister's wellbeing.
"Stupid Firebender…" He knelt down by his bag, growling as he searched within it. A sudden surge of anger threatened to expose itself. The person healing that bastard wasn't some random healer, she was his sister! "This is all your fault!" The hate didn't leave as he continued to mutter to himself, rummaging around. As he reached for his personal water pouch, he sighed angrily; looking away, he closed his eyes tight.
He abandoned his quest for a moment, throwing the item down in a huff and exhaled heavily. What was wrong with him? He felt like he was constantly going backwards and forwards in his head.
He found himself glaring at the pouch only moments later as if it would make any difference to his situation whatsoever. Where was this self-doubt and anger coming from? His sister needed him, but here he was feeling sorry for himself! He was delaying the inevitable.
Without another thought about himself, he snatched up his pouch and turned hot on his heels, walking back towards her. He had more important things to think about.
As Sokka was about to reach his sister, a sudden gust of wind surprisingly threw him off course. The shock on his face resembled that of an old man losing his balance on a cliff. He didn't need to turn to find out who had just returned. He was accustomed to Appa's antics. But by the Spirits, he wasn't ready for them.
"Aang!" Sokka turned, trying to gain some of his dignity back, and most of all, his balance. He began wiping the sand off of himself. He wasn't at all assumed.
"Sorry, Sokka! Didn't see you, there," Aang shouted back from a top of Appa.
"You lair! That Bison knows exactly what he's doing and so do you!" Sokka turned back to sister, who was now looking at him. A small smile had formed upon her lips. That was the Katara he liked to see, even if it was at his expense, though her tired eyes told a different story altogether. He nodded, becoming somewhat serious. "You, ok?"
"I think so," she admitted softly. "Just a little tired."
Sokka raised an eyebrow. "A little tired?" He repeated. "We've been here for hours, and you've been working on this asshole this whole time, and you say, you're 'a little' tired? Come on, Katara, I know my sister better than that." He balanced himself next to her. She just nodded slowly, knowing her brother was right. A sudden wave of tiredness enwrapped her, confirming what Sokka had believed.
Aang now joined them, and Momo was perched on his shoulder. He screeched a sort of 'hello' at them before returning to his nuts; Appa, on the other hand, was resting his eyes, simply enjoying the coolness of the evening. He knew he would be flying again soon.
"Katara…" Aang begun; his voice told her what he was about to inquire about. She couldn't help but stop him in his tracks.
"I'm fine, guys, really. I just need some sleep." Aang accepted this, but yet still looked concerned.
"Well, that's why I got Appa, so we didn't have to walk back." The Airbender made sure that his Bison got the credit he deserved. Sokka though didn't look convinced.
"Riiight. And what's our heroic Appa getting out of this, huh?" Sokka now stood, arms crossed, waiting for an answer.
"Uhh, what do you think, Sokka? Food." Aang was somehow perplexed by the question, his right eyebrow arching up, showing Sokka that very confusion. The oldest of the siblings remained serious for a few moments longer.
"I appreciate your honesty," Sokka finally admitted, unfolding his arms.
Aang, however, was still confused and questioned Sokka's motives against Appa. "What's with all the questions? Appa flies you everywhere!" Sokka, now busy helping his sister up, didn't answer instantly.
"He's also tries to knock me over every time he lands!" Sokka protested. "But that's fine. I'm sure I want a mouth full of sand, a souvenir from my time at the beach, maybe!"
"That's not his fault-" Aang started.
"So it's yours?" Sokka cut in.
"No-"
"Who's then?!" Both of Sokka's arms launched themselves in the air, either to fuel his stance-increasing his chances of winning the argument-or, most likely, he was out of his mind.
"Why are you two fighting about this?!" Katara finally interrupted. Her snapping voice effectively grabbed both of their attentions, like flies trapped in a spider's web. She was certainly not in the mood, and she certainly didn't care whether they were being serious or not. It stops now. "Now, could you two stop arguing about something so ridiculous and get Zuko onto Appa, like you were supposed to do as soon as Aang arrived?"
She then left them to it, going over to comfort her six-legged friend. Aang was unsure if Appa would even let Zuko onto his saddle. The prince had almost hurt Appa enough times; whether he accepted the injured prince now was unclear. Aang sent Sokka a shrug, who in turn rolled his eyes. Yet another problem to deal with and they hadn't even left yet! At this rate they might as well have to build a bloody mud hut on this stretch of sand. They'd been here long enough.
"Right-" Sokka stretched this shoulders out "-you grab his legs, Aang. I've got the arms."
Aang paused mid-movement, looking up at Sokka with a serious look. "Sokka, no. We've gotta be gentle. Katara would be pretty upset if we opened any of his wounds." Sokka, for at least a moment, looked like he couldn't care less, but begrudgingly admitted that Aang was right.
"Alright, Aang. We'll do it your way. You grab his legs… and I'll hold his shoulders." He paused to see if that would get an early response. "Don't worry," he continued in a somewhat exaggerated tone, "I'll try my hardest to be gentle."
The Avatar just sent him another look; this time he looked irritated. "Your sarcasm does you no credit."
"Nor does standing here any longer… I've got enough sand in my boots to build a castle."
"...Shame it's not in your mouth," the Avatar whispered just loud enough to have a reason to develop a smirk. He knew Sokka had purposely ignored that, but he also knew it was taking everything he had not to retaliate. That didn't stop the warrior from sending him a glare.
火-水-土-空-闪
"The Sun and the Moon. They're the embodiment of Yin and Yang. They're polar opposites, never harming one another, never catching each other's eye. Never do they feel the warm embraces of each other's loving soul. They simply take comfort in knowing that the other is there. This knowledge is known within their ever loving hearts.
Avatar Aang. Hear these words again; know the very balance that is needed to make these words true is fleeting. Without you, there is no hope, and with no hope, there is no victory for the good, and without the good, evil will triumph.
We are here. You should take this comfort as your own. We are connected, always. This is my final warning to you. You must succeed! In return, I promise you, the world will find peace in your victory."
"Ah!" Aang blotted upright. Taking a moment to fight for breath, he was eventually able to wipe the cold sweat off his brow. The chilling wind howled in his ears, fully awakening the Avatar to its kingdom. They flew high, far from the view of any on land.
Holding on to Appa's horn, he made sure the Bison knew he had nothing to worry about.
He then looked back around to see if his commotion had awoken anyone. A relieved sigh quickly escaped him when he realised that both Sokka and Katara were still asleep. Even Momo hadn't heard him. He found that a little odd, knowing the keen hearing of the lemur but took what he could get. He relaxed-though only a little. That dream…it had repeated itself since the day he had been told that he was the Avatar, and to this day, he didn't know who the woman that spoke to him was. He had only ever heard her speak.
Aang had no trouble remembering the dream itself. Though it differed from recent years. The lady's voice was quieter and the atmosphere wasn't as beautiful as it had once been. The dream was weakening, like the final leaf falling from an ancient oak tree. Everything must die; everything once young must grow old. Everything must come to an end.
He pulled his knees up to his chin and rested it there. Calmer now, Aang looked at the distant stars that shone brightly in the night sky. But in the middle, out shining them all, was the moon itself. The true king. He would rule the sky until the dawn's light gently touched his fading presence. The moon was full, showing off its true strength, giving power to those who could move the Moon Spirit's beautifully powerful element.
Aang then looked over to the unconscious Prince of the Fire Nation. A cold sadness sparkled in his eyes. He didn't know if he should feel sorry for him or merely say that this was karma's doing.
Fire burns; it destroys.
But, he then remembered that water, earth, and air could do the same.
No element was innocent from its destructive nature. They all had the power to take, and all did destroy. Fire had just made a bad name for itself, Aang frowned at his own thoughts, no, it hadn't-the people who had the knowledge to bend its amazing strength had. Fire was simply fire. For all the elements had a purpose in existing. Fire brought light and warmth. It heated food, and it guided people out of darkness. It had been man who had decided to take that power and give it its now gruesome reputation.
People had long forgotten this. It wasn't the element that had started this long war-fire had existed long before man even breathed the air. Nature was nature, and it would act accordingly. Nature wasn't organized; it didn't discriminate; it just did what it was designed to do. Man had changed its course, seamlessly giving the impression that they had also altered fire's nature. When in reality, that simply wasn't possible.
And so, the answer was now clear to him. A Firebender had the ability to be kind, as much as a Waterbender had the ability to be cruel. Everyone should at least be given the chance to prove who they would be. And Aang did see good in Zuko, even if it was hidden behind an angry front most of the time. So Aang decided to give Zuko that chance… That was if he ever woke up.
He looked away and relaxed back down against Appa's massive left horn, ready to fall back to sleep. But before he could, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Aang looked back, just to check if he'd been seeing things. He had been right to do so, as he soon saw Zuko once again shiver violently under his blanket. Sympathy showed itself to be the victor.
Being careful not to wake Momo, Aang made his way over to the prince's side. He probably couldn't keep warm in his unconscious state. Believing this, Aang retrieved his blanket from his pack and put it over Zuko's shaking body. It was thick, designed to keep the heat in. It had been a gift from a Firebender just before the war, from a friend that Aang missed dearly to this day. It only took a few moments for Zuko's body to react, and the shaking soon stopped.
Returning back to his spot, Aang finally closed his eyes, whispering "night" to the world.
火-水-土-空-闪
Iroh, for all his experiences, had never met a man quite like Zhao. So crude and ruthless was he that in the darkest corners of the world, people whispered of his foul deeds, snarling as they did and wanting nothing more than to put his head on a spike! To him, he was simply beyond all measure of their words. He was completely and utterly devoted to himself, loyal to only his own advances.
The retired general would have been lying if he had said that he was at all surprised that the man had the audacity to claim himself a hero of the Fire Nation. Oh, how the meaning of the word 'hero' had changed since he was young. A hero was someone who put others long before the desires of their own heart. Heroes saved people. If a hero was to be named, it wasn't Zhao; he was not the person who should be declaring such absurd things. But despite all the negativity, he was indeed still a clever man, smart enough to know how to advance in the military ranks-to get the Fire Lord what he wanted-and in turn and most importantly, get his own way.
"More tea, Iroh?" the admiral offered. Iroh, though still polite, declined, not wanting to be here any longer than he had to be. The distaste never left his mouth; the anger, though bottled within, still somehow showed itself in the disgust of Iroh's tone.
The admiral chuckled then, slowly putting down the pot, taking his seat. For a moment, nothing was said. Zhao had that look on his face. He was pondering, thinking how he could word his next sentence. He had to be careful. He knew Iroh well enough to know that any mistake could mean his eventual death.
Finally, Zhao played his cards; leaning forward, a sudden look of false sympathy covered his true motives. "I was sorry to hear about your nephew-" Iroh shut his eyes tight. He was never one to be rude, but he cut deep into the admiral's trying words.
"No. You're not." He got right to the point. Though, the retired general's harsh tone did not seem to offend him, and Zhao simply leaned back in his chair, his stance matching that of a man who played twisted mind games. Two fingers pressed gently against his lips; he watched the older man with an intriguing nature. "Let's not pretend, as we sit here, Zhao, that we do not know why the other is here." Zhao smirked, nodding slowly.
"Fair enough. No more games. Out of respect," he lied, enjoying himself a little too much. He put his hands on the table, intertwining them as if he already knew how to win this. "Though I want to make sure that my hunch is correct. Why are you here?"
"You killed my nephew."
"Really?" For someone who had just been accused of such a feat, Zhao didn't at all look surprised. "And how is it you have come to that preposterous conclusion, Iroh?" His tone darkened, rising a little in volume; his features reflected that of his voice, accidently showing his true nature.
"Because I know you." Iroh was as calm as ever. He, too, knew how to play this game.
"That's hardly a just reason to accuse me. Though, let's suppose you did have just cause, I don't gather you have any evidence to support this accusation of treason, Iroh?"
"Why do you ask? If I did, you would soon know about it. Though I do have a guard of yours, who after a lot of tea, spoke of pirates leaving this tent a lot richer than when they had entered. Then my nephew's ship is blown up two nights later. Do you have any idea how many people that blast killed?"
"No. Because I had nothing to do with it. That guard needs to have his lying tongue cut out," Zhao casually stated. He was a man of no remorse. "If Zuko's dealings with pirates went sour, that's not my doing. Therefore, if you have no evidence, Iroh, then this conversation is over." He paused, looking ashamed at the once great man. "Iroh. This is obviously an act of desperation. Fuelled only by grief, and so I'm going to overlook this whole episode of yours. Just this once." He talked as if believed Iroh to be stupid, pulling at his heart, making fun of his grief.
Iroh's ability to contain his anger was that of a master. But it had taken years of pain and experience, even more so in training. Firebenders were known for their short fuses and flaring tempers. And so, they were taught how to control that fire from the moment that it was discovered. If they lost that control and they did not release it in time, the fire inside would rage until there was nothing left. Iroh exhaled, a hint of sadness could be heard. For now, unfortunately for him, Zhao was right.
"Are you sure I can't interest you in some more tea, Iroh?" He spoke as if nothing had been said. But his expression, it harboured a knowing smirk of victory. Iroh didn't answer in time however, as Jee entered. Zuko's lieutenant walked over to the retired general, completely ignoring the pig opposite him.
"Sir?" Jee's eyes held a sympathetic nature and was endlessly given. It was real, and even though the prince and his top lieutenant hadn't always gotten along, the man had been told enough to understand why things were like the way they were. With that understanding and a little more fairness given on Zuko's part, the bitterness had faded-and respect soon replaced it. "Darren has requested to see you, sir. I hope I wasn't interrupting you, Iroh?"
"Us," Zhao said firmly. But as before, the lieutenant simply pretended he wasn't there. Ignore me again you half-wit, and I'll have your head as an example. His eyebrow twitched in a silent rage, his grip tightening on the cup in his hand. So hard was the pressure, it threatened to crack.
"No, no, I was just leaving," Iroh said as he slowly stood. He looked to Zhao and thanked him for the tea. The admiral nodded in return and within a few moments was left in his own creeping solitude. He stood quickly and without warning. The chair flung back, somehow being forced to slide across the hard, mud ridden ground.
He turned away, slenderly putting his hands behind his back. There had to be a way out of this!