Warnings: None, except randomness on my part.
Pairings: none
Disclaimer: I own no avatar, man!
AN: This one's strange and random. The younger prince Zuko has a dream of his future(out of chronological order). The scene in the snow is from the season 1 finale, when he passes out... I think that's it. Sorry, this is definitely not my best, but I had it sitting around and didn't want to work on it anymore.
Breathe in, breathe out. His chest rises and falls to this rhythm, over and over again. The dark room is silent, disturbed only by the occasional murmur and the sigh of steady breathing, in and out, in and out. The weak light of predawn slips inside, revealing only a scattering of shadows, the dark mass of the canopy bed, and the boy, that shock of paleness in a sleepy world of grey and black. A few strands of hair have escaped the young prince's ponytail, veiling his eyes and his perfect, unmarked skin. A dream forms in the young Zuko's mind, a gentle pull that calls to him. It grows, creeps forward, carries his consciousness away on its waves.
A room, strange and unreal in its moving, growing, living shadows thrown by a few candles, their tongues stretching and dying with a young man's deep, even breathing of meditation. Breathe in, breathe out. Breath in, breath out. Only his proud, straight back is visible, solid and immovable.
The vision shifts and the face is revealed --- the face of a monster, cruelly marred and puckered, stained across a map of creamy skin. His face.
Breathe in, breathe out. His breathing is shallow and rapid, impatient. His hands form tight fists. The wind pushes at him, shrieking and hissing in his ear as rain slices the air. His scream and his plea "Strike me!" thunders like the rumbling sky does now. A broken shard of lightning appears again, but nowhere near hitting him.
His unmarred eye waters and a tear fights its way out, down his cheek, lost in the rain splatters. With his one good eye clouded, the raging world morphs and dissolves into a haze. He closes his eyes, grits his teeth in frustration and shame.
The kiss of cold snow against his bare skin slowly seeps in, its icy fingers clawing inside and settling deep within, lulling him into a deep, black sleep. His body relaxes, giving into, falling into the snow, the cold, and the abyss fast approaching. He still lives, but will fade away soon, his breathing growing softer and softer until it finally ceases. Breathe in, breathe out.
Zuko wakes, gasping, sucking in air the greedy, desperate way drowning men do. The dream releases its grip and the swell retreats. Eyes wide and staring, he nervously pulls sweat-sticky hair away from his forehead.
Breathe in, breathe out. He calms his body slowly, letting the trembling, the anxious heartbeat subside.He touches his face slowly, warily, feeling the familiar contours of his skin and exhales, releasing the fear. The dream fades from his mind as the minutes pass, leaving only a few vague impressions and a chill he can't shake, a deep cold that numbs to the core.