Why Orange?

Looking up at the ever-darkening ceiling, I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall. At least there was a little comfort in that. My thick hair provided me a small amount of cushioning. Just like the last one, the sunset had been orange. That sickeningly, bright, horrible color, I couldn't stand it. Of course, living in the Fire Nation, I had always been around it, heck, I wore it a few times. Leaning forward I propped my chin on my hands.

When did I come to hate orange? I was never particularly averse to the color. Sure it can be bright and in-your-face annoying, but when was my antipathy for it born?

I stretched in the puny cell, folding over my crossed legs, my hands silent as they slid along the smooth stone. No doubt it had been rougher when the prison was first built, but dozens of prisoners, rotting in here like me, had worn the stones smooth. The only light was a guttering lantern, the meager light from the out-of-reach window having long left.

But I was okay with that. The light had been orange, with subtle hints of red and purple mixed in, but mostly orange. And I hate that color.

Prison was a new one for me. Sure I'd been in an imagined prison practically my whole life, but at least there were a few distractions. Here they took boredom to new levels. Ty Lee was starting to get a little hysterical during the long hours awake. But at least she could climb on the bars and entertain herself. I didn't have a single weapon to practice with, sharpen, or even clean. Tired of sitting, I walked the perimeter of the tiny cell, thinking about my fate.

Azula had sent Ty Lee and me here after a moment of insanity on our parts. I never thought I would go against her; I'm just not that stupid. But, for Zuko's sake…well, I guess I happily faced an army of fire-benders. She had ordered us to be put away, and left to rot. So that meant, at least, no execution. Not a quick one anyway. I'd probably die of boredom in a few months anyway.

Zuko's handsome face came to my mind as I walked in the dim light. It had been a glorious time, the hours spent in his arms, teasing him, trying to cheer him up. Too short a time. Far too short to make up for the long three years since I had last seen him. The image in my memory was that of a young, and proud, fourteen year-old, smiling and boasting that he was going to attend the war meeting, to become a better man so that he would be more fit to rule the Fire Nation.

I had given him a small smile; the smile he knew was only for him. In truth, I wanted him with me. I had perfected the use of the small kunai, and wanted to show him. But still I let him go, knowing his heart was out to please his cold father.

Ah yes. That's when I started hating orange. That was the color of Fire Lord Ozai's clothes, it was the color of the fire that charred Zuko's face black and red, it was the color of the prince's tears too, as blood mixed with water. Yeah, that was when it started.

I didn't get the chance to talk to him after that. His uncle took him away before he woke up. At least, that's what I had been told by Azula. I didn't talk to her for a week. She had smiled at her father's cruelty. Zuko had been banished, and scarred, but I could still see, in my mind, the proud tilt of his head, the fierce determination in his golden eyes. Yeah, I could see it.

Closing my eyes in the darkness of my cell, I pictured again, those eyes. He had looked at me, through the door of that cell on Boiling Rock, and told me everything. In the golden depths I saw everything his note had failed to say. I couldn't stop myself, I had to help him, even if it meant going against Azula, and likely losing my life. If just once I could help him, I was okay with that. He was helping the Avatar now, which was good. That kid needed all the help he could get. I wondered how Zuko would get along with the water-bender, she seemed a little high-strung, but I shrugged it off. It didn't matter if he got along with anyone else in that group, so long as the Avatar learned what he needed to.

Lying down on the thin pallet, so different from my plush bed and couches at home, I closed my eyes again, seeking a distraction in my dreams; a distraction of gold, black, and red. There is no orange in my dreams though, for three years, I haven't seen that color in my dreams for three years now.

Zuko and I joke about it, but he knows I truly hate that color. If he were ever to ask, 'Why orange?'

I would tell him I just do.