AN: This is the only chapter I've written so far. I have a general plot line that I've figured out already, but with everything in life, it is open to change. This story is AU but with all the characters you love.
/
His voice rang loudly, on that hot summer day. When it seemed that most of the common people toiled and struggled with the oppressive heat, the royal herald wore his heavy silk attire effortlessly. It was a three quarter length robe, dyed red with the emblem of the royal family, a great dragon, stitched proudly on the breast. The yellow dragon rode the nonexistent wind with grace and inspired fear and awe in equal parts.
"Prince Zuko, first of his name, son of Firelord Ozai, is betrothed to the princess of the Water Nation. May this engagement bring forth a new era of harmony and prosperity."
The herald took a self-important bow and quickly scuffled away. He left behind a large crowd, their whispers spreading through the people like a fire spreading through a stack of hay.
Zuko hoped it would be put out as quickly as it blazed into existence. He wore an old sleeveless tunic and pants and a wide brimmed straw hat to shadow his face. At the moment, the straw hat conveniently hid his scar and growing blush. He wasn't sure if the blush was from knowing that the whole nation probably was informed about his engagement earlier than he, or if it resulted from the swelling pit of anger that was roiling in his stomach.
He kicked out in frustration and abated some of his anger by making solid contact with something. He strode off, still burning with fury, leaving behind a wailing man cradling a couple of dirt stained cabbages.
/
Zuko tied the knot of his royal robe securely and inserted the crown prince's royal hairpiece in his topknot. After making sure that his commoner's clothes was safely stashed away, he made his way to his uncle's solar. He was sure that his uncle, full of years and wise sayings would know what was happening.
The first words out of his uncle's mouth did nothing to soothe him. "Congratulations, my dear nephew. I do hope your wife will be able to tolerate the heat," his uncle said, with a joking elbow to Zuko's ribs. Zuko discharged a few wisps of steam from his nostrils. He looked at his grinning uncle and stormed right out of the room he just stormed into.
He heard his uncle's footsteps behind him. "What, Uncle?" he asked. Zuko couldn't turn around yet, for fear of lashing out at the only person he didn't want to.
"Prince Zuko, I am sure my brother had a more than sensible reason to arrange such an engagement that did not consult one of the parties involved, namely you. I do hope the other party is informed, though..."
Zuko left his uncle to his mumblings and decided to go to the source. It wasn't that he was afraid of his own father; no, afraid was not the right word. It was more like a sharp level of respect that preceded any other emotion. Ever since he got his scar, Zuko was a different person, regarding those around him in a new filter. How could he not, when his entire world was shredded apart when he was still so young and innocent. A single, brutal blast of fire from a central figure of his life was all it took.
A servant announced his presence to Firelord Ozai and Zuko was confronted once again by the dancing shadows that was his father's face.
"What is it that you want, Prince Zuko?" The Firelord's voice was slow and clear, almost lazy. It infuriated Zuko like nothing else.
"Father, I shall get right to the point. Rumor has it that I am betrothed? And to a water brute, none the less," Zuko said in a voice that he hoped contained a fraction of the the coolness so evident in his father's voice.
The shadows on the Firelord's face shifted. Zuko almost though he saw a smirk, but with the constant flickering, there was no way to tell.
"Prince Zuko, that is no rumor. I must congratulate you on your engagement. I only hammered out the details this morning. I'm thrilled that you are so willing to embrace your new partner." The twisted amusement in his voice was unmistakable.
"I understand, Father. Do I have your permission to leave?" He had to get out of there before something exploded.
"Yes, you are dismissed, Prince Zuko."
Zuko bowed and turned before his father finished his sentence. He roughly shouldered the body coming into the chamber before he realized it was Azula. She met his eyes coolly, those eyes that reminded him so so much of the Firelord.
Entering the hallway, Zuko didn't even need to strain to hear his father's proud voice say, "Princess Azula, my good child, what business do you have with me?" There was a definite hint of lightness that wasn't there for Zuko. It should have hurt, but it didn't. Not after being exposed to it for all these years.
Zuko absently watched the dust motes drift in the shaft of sunlight that shone through his bedroom window. Most of his bags were packed, ready for his departure in three days. He didn't know what to think of his last year at the Royal Academy. The previous five years, he seemed to drift through. He studied, practiced, ate, slept, and looking back on it now, it seemed pointless. The only positive aspect of the Royal Academy was the fact that he was boarding there and as a result was far, far away from his dear sister.
He threw his heavy robe off and ripped it in half out of confusion and frustration and all the other swirling emotions he felt. He let his hair loose and in a plain shirt and pants, went to the back courtyard to practice some forms.
Punch, punch, kick, duck, leg sweep, uppercut with an elbow jab following. Something about visualizing kicking the shit out of someone you couldn't made him feel better. He almost cracked a smile when he imagined himself triumphant over Azula in a spar.
"Your form is much better, Prince Zuko," he heard his uncle say. Zuko faced the old man and bowed according to custom. "Good to see that you are feeling better."
Zuko looked down and mumbled, "I'm sorry about my behavior toward you earlier." He heard his uncle laugh and rose with a smile.
"No need to apologize, Prince Zuko. If I had been faced with such life changing news as you have been, who knows how I would have reacted!"
"But weren't you?" Zuko asked. His uncle stopped laughing.
The old man stroked his chin while looking appropriately pensive. "Oh yes, I forgot. It was just so long ago and there was ever only one woman in my life. Do you remember the disaster that was the palace's west wing burning down?" He chuckled, eyes distant, and Zuko had to let out a puff of amusement. "So you see, your reaction, Prince Zuko, was worlds better than mine."
"Yes, Uncle," Zuko replied.
His uncle stared at the violet sky and the blood red sun and said, "It looks like it's time for dinner, Prince Zuko. Why don't you come in and wash up?"
Zuko smiled and replied, "Yes, Uncle."
/
A man in religious robes was waiting in the room that Zuko was summoned to. In a big wooden chair, he sat with several scrolls on the table in front of him.
It was just past the seventh hour of the day and though the sun was prominent in the sky, the heat and humidity was still yet to be felt. In a few hours, he would leave for the last time to the Royal Academy.
Zuko sat uncomfortably in the chair facing the priest and waited for the wrinkled man to speak.
"As you know, the Firelord arranged for the prince's betrothal to the princess of the Water tribe. What with their system of royalty in that particular nation, we cannot guarantee the purity of her blood. However, with the guarantee of alliance and trade that rides on this particular arrangement, we hope to see the prince gladly accept this duty for the good of the nation.
"I have here," the priest waved a hand over the scrolls, "the scrolls we need to have imprinted with your personal stamp to make the entire transaction legal in the eyes of the nation."
Zuko closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He applied a tinge of heat and felt his headache slowly retreating. He reached into his breast pocket and retrieved his personal stamp. Not his family stamp, but his personal stamp. This meant that his life was going to be officially sacrificed for the Fire Nation. But if it was for the good of the nation he would someday rule, he knew he would have the strength to do it.
Wanting the entire process to be over as quickly as possible, he branded each document efficiently.
The priest saw the stamp and smiled warmly. "Now if you also hand in your crown prince's ornament, I would be much obliged."
"What?" Zuko asked, surprised.
The priest's face flashed in surprise and fear and visibly fought for composure. "I thought you had already known that your engagement will automatically nullify you for the throne. The Firelord cannot be a Firelord without a wife from the Fire Nation. Thus the crown will move down to the next eligible person, which would be Princess Azula."
"What?" This time Zuko's ears started ringing.
"Rip up those scrolls immediately," came a voice from the doorway. Iroh's voice was steely and commanding, and the priest visibly paled.
"I-I cannot, P-Prince Iroh. The Firelord commanded...," the man was on the verge of fainting.
A fourth voice joined the conversation, and Zuko knew it was over. "Yes, I did command that nothing happens to those documents. Your transportation will arrive within the hour, Prince Zuko. I dare hope you do not miss it." Ice and amusement; the Firelord's voice was overflowing with it.
It seemed like a whole rotation of the earth before Zuko realized the trap he so earnestly walked into. "You purposely made the engagement now, so that I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT," Zuko shouted, letting his temper at his father loose for the first time. He ripped the scrolls from the priest's white fingers and applied heat.
His father's cruel smile disappeared. "If you do that, Prince Zuko, I will make sure you have a matching scar on your other eye and no throne to go with it."
Iroh raised his fists and watched his younger brother's eyes survey himself.
Zuko stared blankly at his father and his uncle with weary eyes and finally dropped the scrolls to the ground, signaling defeat. He could endure humiliation and defeat, but Uncle, the proud and respected Dragon of the West, could suffer no such thing.
He stormed out of the room and did not reach up to wipe away the escaping tears from his eyes.
"This one time, I will excuse your behavior, my son," there was contempt in his voice at that word, "but let there not be another lapse, EVER," his father's voice called out after him.
Zuko sat on his bed, feeling as empty as his room. His tears subsided somewhere on the short walk back. His belongings were already half way to the Academy on an advance carriage. He paced the room and punched the wall. He kicked his door until the wood splintered and then ripped the door off the hinges. He threw what remained of the door to the far corner of his room. He would soon rather let his anger out than his tears.
His uncle found him sitting quietly on the floor facing a row of three candles. They flared and dimmed with his breath. His knife, proud topknot, and the crown prince's hair ornament was on the ground next to him.
"How long has my father planned to take my birthright from me?" Zuko asked calmly.
"I do not know, Prince Zuko," Iroh replied, his voice heavy.
"I guess it doesn't matter," Zuko said. He stared at the white plaster wall emotionlessly. "My honor, my throne, my country. I lost it all."
"Don't say that Prince Zuko." Iroh's voice was slow and measured.
"Why, Uncle? It's over for me. My father's successor will finally be the person he wants." Zuko opened his eyes and stood up, feeling eerily calm. Or perhaps he was just void of emotion, his spiritual limits broken a long time ago.
Zuko brushed past his uncle and strode away from his room, hopefully forever. But knowing his sister, he would be back, just so that she can see him squirming in embarrassment at the sight of her glory.
The three flames extinguished into thin, gray wisps of smoke.
/
The heat was stifling. It made his thoughts blurry and his body sluggish. But sitting on the hard seats of the carriage, Zuko liked it that way. A deep sense of loss was eminent in his heart. It wasn't the familiar ache he felt when he thought of his mother, but rather a feeling of losing a limb in a terrifying accident. Except his loss wasn't physical and it was no accident.
When the carriage stopped for the night, Zuko listened carefully to the crickets. The pleasantly cool air kissed him lightly as he exited the small box. His driver was already talking to the innkeeper, while exchanging a few coins. Zuko followed suit and dug a pouch of coins out of his pocket.
The night's meal was hardy and filling and the bed was soft and flea-less. Zuko took his shirt off and gracelessly flopped into his bed for the night and closed his eyes. His sister's face flashed into his mind. She was younger and smiling. Not innocently, because Zuko was sure that she never was, but wickedly. She began singing, "Zuzu's not worthy of the throne. But I am. And Father loves me more than he loves you. You know what that means..." His eyes sprung open. It looked to be a long and sleepless night.
A glance around the room showed that it was simple enough. He decided to take a bath since now was as good as any time, and like most all Fire Nation inns, there seemed to be a bath house out in the bakc, the tubs filled by natural springs. Zuko figured he was all but alone this time of night.
He enjoyed the short walk through the small patch of trees. The bath was actually roofless and located just beyond the forest in the middle of a garden with a rock-paved floor. He stripped out of his travel stained pants and tossed it at the edge of the forest. His toes gripped the slippery rock floor as he traversed the short distance to the steaming tub. The thick steam emanating from the hot water was being blown sideways by the night's wind. The moon hung high in the inky sky, but there was too much cloud cover for Zuko to see its face clearly.
As his hand made contact with the slippery rock-face that made up the side of the large expanse of tub, he was as surprised as anyone to see a figure with long hair bathing in the water already.
"Oh," slipped out before he realized and the figure's face turned toward him. He noticed two thing immediately: Long dark hair framed a small, porcelain face and the face definitely belonged to a woman.
"I should say the same," the woman replied, although girl would have been more apt. The closer Zuko looked at her, the more he was sure that she was his age.
Looking at the compromising position he found himself in, Zuko began to stutter out excuses. "I though I would be alone, and I didn't know there would be only one bath. The inns I usually stay at have two separate baths for, you kno-" His face grew warm, and he thanked the gods that it was too dark for his blush to be visible.
"We're both wearing underwear. So relax, Blushy," she cut him off. "I thought I would be alone too. And the best time to soak is now, because usually, you can see the moon move into a spot just above Mount Hono, and it's just breathtaking. But the clouds are too thick that I can't even see the outline of the moon tonight." She took her eyes away from the navy clouds and glanced at him. "Aren't going to get in?" He was still gripping the rock quite tightly, the autumn winds swirling around him.
"No, I think I'm going to go," Zuko said quickly with the grace of a lumbering antelope bear. She quickly scooted over and gripped his wrist.
"Don't leave on my account. I'll feel bad." She looked back at where the inn would be beyond the trees and stage whispered, "My dad would kill me if he knew, but I won't tell if you don't."
"Dad?" Zuko followed her gaze.
"We stayed at this inn since the end of last week. My dad and I were traveling through until he decided that he needed to resupply, right in this town. We'll finally be on our merry way tomorrow." She looked at him with her big amber eyes and he gave in. He lowered himself into the water and let out his breath. He sat on the ledge made for sitting and enjoyed the relaxing effect the warm water had on his travel-weary muscles.
After a few minutes of tense silence, Zuko said "You were right."
The girl, sitting a few feet away, replied, "About what?"
"Now is the best time to relax here. The view isn't as great as you said it was, but it's still enjoyable." He had his eyes closed and his body relaxed, but his mind was still throbbing. Out of habit, his fingers went to brush back his hair. When all he felt was short stubbly, hair, his world fell apart again accompanied by an agonizing sense of loss. "It almost made me forget. Almost," he whispered. "But it's still too fresh."
She put her hand on his shoulder for comfort and he didn't bother to brush it away. "I lost something, too. It was years ago, but I never forgot."
"That sucks. But I guarantee you that I have worse luck than you," Zuko said while he let out a harsh, sarcastic laugh. "I lost my mom. I lost my father. I never will forget. Yesterday, I lost something again. Something that's not comparable to losing someone, but it still hurts a lot. Too much."
"I won't say that I'm sorry, because when someone tells me that, it pisses me off." She cast him a wistful smile. Zuko waited for her to go on, but the silence continued.
"I have a sister," he said. Maybe he wanted to fill in the silence. Maybe he wanted to have somebody to talk to. Who knows? "She's a special sister. And I hope I never see her face ever again..."
/
"Uncle brings out the cake to surprise his son and there's a huge smear of icing on his cheek! The people in the tent, they can't laugh, or they'll be killed," Zuko said between laughs. He didn't mention that the other men at Lu Ten's birthday party were generals and that if they did laugh at the Dragon of the West, they probably would have met a quick and firery death. The man Iroh was now and the man he was then were two different people, or so Zuko heard. Zuko took a gulp of the sake that seemed to magically appear, but in reality, the girl had a stash of it in a nearby bush.
"But once his son notices and laughs, there's no stopping the others." He let the tears trickle out of his eyes as he laughed his heart out. The girl laughed with as much gusto, which encouraged Zuko only further. Her laugh was light and joyful and clean. He liked it.
"I had a boyfriend once, but he was never as funny as you," she said absently while tracing idle patterns in the water. The ends of her long dark hair parted and swirled on the surface of the water.
"Me? Funny?" Zuko asked, but it only made her laugh. Her teeth were surprisingly white and straight and Zuko found himself wanting to reciprocate her bright smile.
"I would tell you that you're more beautiful than my girlfriend," he said, caught in a fleeting feeling of love. "But I've never had a girlfriend."
The earth seemed to stop rotating. Zuko covered his mouth with his hand, water splashing everywhere because of the sudden movement, and stared at her speechless eyes. He closed his eyes and counted to ten.
"Forget what I just said. I was just kidding. I mean, I wasn't. No, you're beautiful, but-" he said, the meaning of his words gone in the endless prattle. He opened one eye carefully and saw nothing except the erratic ripples of where he thought the girl would be. He stared, not wanting to comprehend.
"Great. Shit! I didn't even get her name." He clenched his jaw leaned back. He grabbed to lean neck of the porcelain bottle and took a deep swallow. "Shit."
The bottle shattered in his hand. He threw the shrapnel into the bushes and got out slowly, flash heating himself to evaporate all the excess water on his body (a handy trick Uncle taught him). Still steaming, he made his way slowly back to the inn, reserved to never let his emotions get out of control again.