disclaimer: I do not own Avatar nor its concepts or themes.
prologue
In his mansion far above the Cultural Market, hub of the four districts on Central Island, Old Avatar Huron lay in his bed, dying.
Down in the market, everything seemed normal. Nobody seemed aware of the historic event about to take place on the mountain above. All were oblivious to the colossal ramifications this occurrence would have on their small lives.
And so, trade continued as always. Red traders bargained for South Pole furs, white contractors argued over the cut of sales they owed a blue cargo-ship captain, city employed green workers cleaned the streets, children from all nationalities ran about everywhere, shrieking.
The general hubbub of the market could just be made out by Firelord Zoen standing on the second floor balcony of the Avatar's mansion. The regal Firelord stood motionless, staring down at the four quarters of Central Island, his ring clacking against the dark stone railing as he tapped his finger continuously, contemplating.
As usual when looking at the disorganized mesh of the cultural center of the world, he felt total disgust. Unusual, though, and altogether uncharacteristic of the Firelord, was the second emotion that happened to accompany his disgust at the moment- nervous anticipation.
Zoen heard a muffled slam through the room behind him, indicating the mansions main door being opened and then shut. The Firelord turned and walked back into the large sleeping chamber which held the dying Avatar.
As Zoen stepped back into the room, another man entered the room from the hallway. This Man, Ivor, was short and rather fat, with a long black braid trailing down his back. He was red faced and sweating profusely. Probably from climbing the stairs, thought Zoen humorlessly.
Ivor was an influential member of the water tribe, and he was dressed the part. Blue and tan wolfshark leather jerkin, brown IceBison boots and blue teardrop pendant hanging from his forehead on a silk cord were just a few of the bare components that made up his ridicules suit.
Firelord Zeon thought he looked a fool, a look which fit the Firelord's general opinion of Ivor's overcompensating personality quite well.
...
Having just climbed the steps, Lord Ivor Swiftstrike, Secondary Water diplomat of the Water Tribe quarter, stopped to catch his breath, while unsuccessfully trying to bury the nervous fear burning in his gut.
As he felt the droplets of sweat trickle uncomfortably down his back, the chieftain was reminded of just how old and out of shape he had become. In his youth, no other member of the northern water tribe could match his skill at moose-elk hunting. Ivor liked to blame his condition on what he scornfully called "southern cuisine". He hoped his physical condition would not be too much of a hindrance to the implementation of his plans over the next few hours.
Ivor stepped into the Avatar's grand bedchamber and realized he was probably the last to arrive of those who had received the Avatar's summon. Counting himself, there were now six people in the room, each Nation represented by at least one of those present.
On the far right of the room, calmly sitting on a chest of drawers in a meditative position was nun Ayago, protector of the Shrine of Air and High Gale of the Council of the Four Winds. The petite nun's tanned head seemed as bald as ever, the blue arrow tattoos of the air nomads clearly visible. Ivor had never gotten over the strange appearance of a bald woman.
Walking in from the balcony, Ivor noticed Firelord Zeon, A rather self-important and aloof man in Ivor's opinion. As far as Ivor knew though, of the eight Firelords that ruled the Fire nation, Zeon was the least important or influential.
The last two people in the room were standing near the Avatar's bed muttering softly to each other. Both dressed in Earth nation green tunics, they seemed to be the only people in the room who were showing any hint of emotion fitting the reason for the summons. The older of the two seemed to be a man in his early forties, a short thick black beard squarely framing his prominent jaw. His eyebrows were furrowed in an expression of intense worry. Baron Doran was the governor of the Earth quarter on Central Island, ruling in the name of his liege- the Earth king.
The second man was much younger, barley even a man by water tribe standards. He was quite handsome, with the sturdy chiseled build of an Earthbender, an ability he inherited from his mother. Ivor had no doubt that many a girl had had her heart broken by this young LionOx.
Unlike the others in the room, Ivor did not instantly recognize this youth, only finally realizing who he was by the extreme sorrow and pain the boy openly displayed; Huiar, the Avatar's son.
The old Avatar lifted his bald head slightly as Ivor entered the room. The scalp was tattooed in the fashion of the air nomads, which was, after all, the nation to which he was born.
"Diplomat Ivor, you have made it, good….good…." said Huron weakly.
"This…" he said, sitting up a little in his bed, his voice strengthening a little as he spoke, "will be my last testimony, for I am dying."
The Avatar's son gave a chocked sob.
"None of that Huiar. I have lived a long and fruitful life. One of the… longest lived Avatars ever, if my research over the years proves correct. As of yesterday, I am one hundred and seventy two years old" said the Avatar, a small note of pride entering his voice.
"I have gathered… you all here, leaders of the four Nations on Central Island, so that you may carry my words back to the leaders of your nations… on your home continents." The Avater took a few slow deep breaths to steady himself.
"The world has benefited from a long peace, for over four hundred years the balance has been kept... From the time of Avatar Goyangi into the lifetime of Avatar Ishar, and all the way through my lifetime. Though there have been periods of stress, the world has never teetered out of… balance. My wish, is that it remain as such…Therefore, though I know you will now lack the guidance of a fully realized Avatar for some years to come, I hope the leaders of the world will act wisely… in order to maintain the peace."
Huron met the eyes of each and every one of the leaders gathered around hid bed. Those hard dark eyes held years of experience and vast mountains of knowledge.
"I have had an easy life, in comparison to some Avatars. For that I thanks you… You as the representatives of the four nations. In return, I will now reveal a bit of information… that will help you".
Leaning back onto his pillow, his voice beginning to soften so that those gathered around could barely hear what the Avatar said next.
"The next Avatar will be born of the water tribe, in accordance with the cycle of the elements. After years spent... meditating and walking the spirit world, I now know that she will be born to parents of the southern tribe… though they are residing in the north. The man is lame, and the woman is… she is thought to be barren. This… I know, and this I share. Find this new Avatar, train her, and guide her… Help her become what destiny has prescribed. Help her, so that she… so that she may continue this… this era of… unprecedented… peace..."
The old Avatar's eyes closed, and his final breath left his body. Outside the mansion a Lizardwolf howled mournfully- the Avatar's spirit animal.
Baron Doran pulled on a rope by the Avatar's bed. A moment later a servant arrived at the door of the chamber.
"Sound the horn", ordered Doran firmly "The Avatar has passed."
The servant looked stricken. He glanced at the unmoving form of the frail old Avatar, and then dashed away to do the baron's bidding. A moment later the deep mournful horn sounded from the top of the mansion, resounding all across Central Island, joining the eerie howl of the lonely spirit animal.
After the sound of the horn died away, there was a long moment of silence shared by the occupants of the bed chamber.
Through the open doorway to the massive balcony, Huiar could hear sounds of mourning from the market below, though something seemed a bit odd…
"Do you all hear that?" he asked, rushing out onto the balcony.
The sight that greeted him was alarming. The market was in flames. Stalls and wares burning, People were running for their lives, screaming, crying for help, yet it seemed none but a few lone airbenders were attempting to put out the flames.
"Isn't that a wonderful sight?"
Huiar turned to find Firelord Zeon standing beside him, just as six Red Guards stepped into the room, effectively blocking the door.
"What?!" demanded the boy, horrified at what he was hearing.
Instead of replying, the Firelord just looked down to the city proper.
Following his gaze, Huiar noticed something he hadn't before. A group of Red Guards were fanning the flames in the market using firebending. A second group of firebenders was actually attacking those who were trying to put out the flames. Some of the airbenders who Huiar had noticed before lay charred and unmoving. The High Gale, who had just joined Zeon and Huiar on the porch, along with Doron and Ivor, saw this and let out a cry of dispair.
"I am claiming Central Island in the name of the Fire Nation" said the Firelord triumphantly.
"What?! You can't! Didn't you listen to anything my father just said?" said the boy.
The Firelord gave a genuine bark of amusement.
"All I know, boy, is that the Avatar is dead, and it will be years before the world will have to deal with the next one."
Ivor's reaction surprised everyone.
The water diplomat began to laugh uncontrollably.
"Is that why three fire Navy ships were headed this way?" he asked incredulously.
The Firelord frowned.
"Well, I'm pleased to tell you that my ships sunk them last night. My fleet that carries my army from the north. They will be here at sundown. You have till then to clear out." Ivor said his last piece with a very self-satisfied and smug look on his face.
Huiar looked disbelievingly between the Firelord and the Diplomat.
"Not two minutes is he gone, and you are already ruining everything he hoped to preserve!" shouted Huiar.
The leaders ignored him.
"You fool, Ivor" said Zeon. "We have known about your plan all along, you're the one who gave us the idea to begin with. For the last six months my allies and I have been sneaking Fire nation soldiers in to Central Island as common folk."
At this Ivor finally looked surprised. "Allies?"
Zeon nodded to Doron.
"Uncle? You knew about this?" Huiar was dumbfounded as his uncle Doron nodded.
"Why then? Why didn't you tell father? He could have stopped this! Why uncle, why?" tears started streaming down Huiar's youthful face.
"Your father was too old boy." Doron sighed, looking haggard.
"When I first uncovered Ivor's plots, I brought them before my king. The Earth king was furious. 'How dare the Water tribe try and set up a land base so close to the equator?' he demanded. 'The Water tribe belongs in the north and south poles, and no more'." Everyone on the porch was listening intently to the Baron's tale.
"At first, the king was prepared to try and defeat the Water tribe on his own, but he quickly realized that would not be possible. We didn't have the ocean power to control an Island like Central Island on our own. Even if we did win initially, there would be nothing to stop the Water tribe from coming back again with more troops, and they would be able to rearm faster than we would."
"Therefore the King decided to share the information with Firelord Zeon, knowing that the Fire Nation's battle ships would even the playing field against the Water tribe. The plan was that the Fire Nation and the Earth nation would share control of Central Island, so the fact that the Firelord just claimed it solely for the Fire nation is news to me."
Zeon just shrugged.
"Plans change Doron, It's pointless to share the Island when we don't have too. As you said yourself, you just don't have the ocean power control Central Island."
He motioned for his Red Guards.
"Take them" commanded Zeon.
Before anyone could do anything, Nun Ayago, who had remained silent, trying to make head and tail of what was happening, sent a massive blast of wind down at the floor, shooting herself high up into the air and away. The blast of air knocked everyone else off their feet. Surprisingly the first to recover was Ivor, who, from within his robes withdrew a dirk with a nasty looking sharp edge. He then rushed at the Firelord, intending to impale the knife deep in the bastard's heart.
The Firelord remained unfazed, and as the Diplomat closed with him, Zeon stepped forward, his left hand snaking out, and grabbed Ivor's right, knife wielding, hand by the wrist. In one swift motion, using the fat man's momentum to his advantage, Zeon grabbed the front of Ivor's Tunic with his free hand and flipped him over the railing. The Water diplomat let out a yell which was cut off abruptly by a nauseating squelch two stories below.
Meanwhile the Red Guards managed to subdue the two earth benders.
"This means war Zeon. Don't do this!" pleaded Doron.
Zeon shook his head.
"It is done, Doron. Take them".
As the Firelord and his men left the mansion, Zeon made two quick punches in the air. With each motion he let his chi flow, bending two fire blasts which began hungrily devouring the home of the recently deceased Avatar.
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