The Untold Tales are little stories that I couldn't fit into either Book I or Book II. I will hereby make the notion that some of these stories can't be considered canon, unlike Tides of Chaos, which is completely canon. (Yes, I determine what of my own fics are canon to my own creations.) I also recommend checking out five fics by other authors, starring ToC characters.
1. Getting Clean by alyssialui
2. Rude Awakenings by alyssialui
3. Surprises by alyssialui
4. No More Games by alyssialui (M-rated)
5. CC's Secret Santa Fic by siempie78 (M-rated)
These two authors projected their own views on certain characters and put them on paper. Not only do I appreciate this, it also inspires me. Besides, it's just fun to find out how much people's view differ on certain characters.
The Untold Tales will span the time between Book I - Earth and Book II, which I will start posting after this fic comes to an end.
Every chapter will contain three short tales with the same theme. It is up to you to find out what that theme is.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own ATLA.
The Untold Tales
I.
Kukuh's First Summer in Omashu
Walking through the streets of Omashu, Kukuh felt safe for the first time since the war began. The feeling of safety he had felt in times past, during the journey, couldn't match the feeling he had now, knowing that the walls around the city, and beyond that the deep abyss, would keep those who would mean harm to him out. Nevertheless, king Batu had advised him to reveal his identity to no one. Being under siege, people might turn on him.
Something caught Kukuh's eye, drawing him towards the scene.
In the middle of a plaza, a girl was dancing, spinning around in a slow, entrancing rate.
Ribbons of many colors were tied to her arms and legs, which fluttered along with her, on the wind, in the circling motion.
Kukuh sat down, somewhere in the corner of the plaza, far away from the dancer, watching her every movement from afar.
She was like a colorful whirlwind, though she only spun around slowly, due to those many ribbons following her around.
On one foot she stood, never lifting it from the ground, unless she swapped it for the other leg, staying ever connected to the earth. Her free leg she used to provide the power for her spinning motion, though she sometimes flexed it behind her back, or sideways in front of her stomach.
Kukuh watched her dance for who knows how long, enthralled by the repetitive, graceful movements, not noticing how barely clad she was, until she took a small break from dancing.
She looked around a bit, the sun reflecting from her sweaty sun-tanned skin. She took an earthen jar from the ground and brought it to her small pinkish lips. She drank, greedily, as if she was dehydrated, spilling some of the water onto her bare skin.
She wore only a small strip of cloth to cover the most delicate parts of her breasts and more strips of cloth around her hips, tightly strapped against her body in a v-pattern, to cover what would cause well-raised men to look away in embarrassment, and proper women in disgust, had it been left for everyone to see.
She continued her dance, her break had taken long enough. She spun around once more, captivating Kukuh again. Her fluid, seductive moves enthralled young Kukuh, enslaving him to her hypnotic dance. He couldn't look away, she was too good a dancer and too beautiful to look at.
Her black hair fluttered along with the ribbons, all in one slow whirlwind of colors and beauty. Round and round she went, looking like her dance would never end. Sure, she might have taken a break, but it was summer.
Summers in Omashu were intensely hot, Kukuh could only admire the dancer for her stamina. If he would have been the one dancing there, he would surely have quit. Then again, he wouldn't be dressed like her, that skimpy, nor would he attract that much of an audience.
First of all, he wasn't that much of a dancer, but more importantly, the dancer generated her audience mostly for how she was dressed and for how she looked.
It was sad that people would most likely watch her, not for her talent but her looks, but reality is often a sad thing.
At least Kukuh knew that he didn't watch her for her looks, though he wasn't so sure about it. He believed he watched her for her talent, for the way she could ensnare him and will him to watch her every movement.
Then again, who says she didn't do the same with all the other onlookers?
Sen's First Summer in Omashu
"You go on ahead," Kukuh had said.
"Take a look, get used to it, pick a room."
Kukuh need not tell him twice, he was off immediately, running from the palace's stairs towards the street where the, what king Batu had called old, property was built.
He looked at the building, amazed by its size, though he had expected something larger –considering the king owned the place.
"Now where is the door…" Sen wondered, walking along the side of the house, spotting neither door nor window.
He turned around the corner, a small staircase led down to a door.
"That's it," Sen said, running down the stairs and barging into the building.
A few pair of shocked eyes looked at him, a family, upper-class so it seemed, was enjoying dinner.
"Who… are you?" the master of the house asked, gesturing his family to calm down.
"And what are you doing in my house?"
"Y… your house?" Sen asked, mentally slapping himself against his head.
"I uh… wrong house," he said, hurrying out of the door, onto the stairs, back to the street.
He slammed the door behind him and before he knew it, he was back where he began.
He walked over to the other side, where a staircase led up to a door, which seemed to be the door Sen was looking for.
He climbed the steps, this time more slowly, walked up to the door and hesitantly opened it. The door was open, as it should be; king Batu had said it was.
He stepped into a small hall, a grand door waited in front of him, beyond it would be the living room, Sen guessed.
He hang the coat he had been given by king Batu on a rack and opened the grand door, stepping into a lowered part of the living room.
Two sets of dark green eyes stared at him, surprised, but not confused and scared, like the dining family had been.
"Not again…" Sen muttered, but the two approached him, shaking his hand friendly and leading him up a few steps, into the main part of the living room, which was slightly elevated.
"Welcome to your new home master Kukuh," the two said, "we are your housekeepers."
"Uh… I'm not Kukuh," Sen said.
"Oh… who are you then?" one of the two, a young man, asked.
"I'm Sen," Sen answered. "His best friend?"
"Doesn't ring a bell," the other housekeeper, a young woman, said.
"I accompanied Kukuh during his travels?"
"Nope…"
"Stood by him when all others faltered or left…?"
"No clue…"
"I'm staying here too…?"
"Oooooooooooh…" the woman said, "why didn't you tell us immediately."
"Welcome to your new home master Sen," the young man said.
"I am Gan, this is Lua," he said.
"We will basically clean up all the mess you and your partner leave behind."
"Oh but, we're not…"
"We will prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner," Lua continued, cutting Sen short, "prepare your baths and make your beds."
"We are living in this house too, might you be wondering, we can be found in the servant's quarters when not busying ourselves with the work we need to do to for you and the Avatar."
"They know? Oh, of course… Batu must have told them."
"Feel free to explore the house," Gan said.
He and Lua strode off, continuing their chores.
Sen walked through the spacious living room, seeing a kitchen tucked away in a spacious recess in the far left corner from where he stood.
A bit more to the right, a hallway led towards the servant's quarters and the bedrooms.
He had to walk a small staircase, a few low, broad steps, to get to the larger staircase that led to the bedrooms.
"So many stairs…" Sen mumbled, wondering why the house had been designed that way.
He turned to the left, walking along the staircase's side, making a one hundred and eighty degree turn in order to be able to climb the stairs.
Once upstairs, a short hallway ended at a window, with a door on both his left and right side.
He looked through the window, seeing a balcony and beyond that, the city walls, the abyss and the army camp of the besiegers.
He had the choice between two bedrooms, he chose the one to his right, which was a tad smaller than the one to his left. That one would be Kukuh's room.
Kala's First Summer During the Siege
"Careful now," Kala thought, sneaking through the dim lit tent.
A certain person wouldn't approve, had he known she was doing this, but she didn't really care that much what he thought of it.
Only for a short moment, she had considered turning back, leaving him be, but it had been too tempting, too perfect to let it go.
"If you get caught," she could hear her father say in her head, "blame it on hormones. If they start to harass you, send them to me."
Comforting, yes, but Kala wasn't planning on getting caught.
Perhaps there was some truth in her father's words, she felt like she was going crazy due to anxiety mixed with desire.
She was so different from her peers.
All the other girls were either still busy playing with toys, or helping their mothers, or they were completely engrossed in making themselves look more appealing, none of which Kala bothered to concern herself with.
No, she had something different on her mind, something of greater importance to both her, and her father to some extent.
She sneaked behind a large piece of canvas, which hang to dry within the warm atmosphere of the tent. It was the perfect vantage point, for she stood in the shadows, and was therefore removed from vision.
She was late, she found out, peeking along the canvas, still hidden in the darkness, to the bathing prince.
Well, bathing…?
No, it seemed he had enough of it, stepping out of the wooden tub.
Her eyes feasted on the view she had, trailing all over the prince's body, the prince she so deeply desired.
She observed him closer, following a route along his jawline, chin, down past his throat, towards his chest, which, still damp, glistened, the dim candlelight reflecting in the few drops of moisture on his skin.
She smirked, if only he knew that she was watching him…
He would be so embarrassed.
Maybe a bit mad.
Further down, her eyes went, skipping over the few hairs that had begun growing on his chest, until she reached his waist.
There she reveled in his muscularity, though she had the chance to do so earlier, when her eyes glanced over his pronounced pectorals.
No, his abdominal muscles, that was what she admired most about his body, so far that is.
As she was about to continue her way down, her fun was abruptly concluded.
The prince took a towel, putting it around his waist and hips.
She bit her lip, cussing herself in her mind; she was too late to get a good glimpse of him.
She had to leave, he was approaching the canvas behind which she was hiding.
She fell to her stomach, lifting the tent's canvas so she could pass underneath. She crawled away, unseen, but slightly dissatisfied.