Disclaimer: Avatar: Last Airbender…not mine…ownership lies elsewhere…
Leaning against the hard metal railing of the cold iron ship, the boy sighed wearily. With his mind thousands of miles away, he felt neither the cool morning breeze nor heard the steady ocean's roar, those powerful waves breaking upon the ship's hull below him. In body, mind, and soul, he was tired, so very tired. As he stood there upon the deck of the small ship, he could feel himself drowning for just a moment under the weight of his heavy thoughts. His eyes never leaving the distant ocean, he allowed his mind to wander as he contemplated his past and his future.
For three years, he had scoured the world, searching for an elusive, ancient relic not seen in a hundred years. For those three long and difficult years, he had poured all of his energy and motivation into his mission, always remaining strong, fierce, and determined. During those troubled times, he had rarely let himself sink into despair or lose focus, yet now as he continued to stare out into the blue frigid waters, he could feel it, the hopelessness creeping toward him threatening to overwhelm him. Like a burden that could be lifted, those months of fruitless searching slowly pressed down on him dragging him deeper into the dark depths.
With his honor lost and his self banished, his place in the world felt uncertain. Once a noble of the highest standing, he was now known as the one who was cast out, the embarrassment of the ruling house, and a failure. Quietly and unknowingly, he voiced that last word into the early morning air. That one word was a catalyst; like the breaking of a dam, his unspoken fears, suppressed shame, and silent doubts gushed forth, flooding his senses and calling to memories best left forgotten.
For a brief instant, he was there again in that room. He felt the cool marble beneath his hands, heard his young voice pleading, and sensed the shadowed figure approaching. Then there were the stares of the hushed crowd, so many eyes upon him, but he barely noticed them as his visions clouded over with tears. His head tilted up; his eyes rose to rest on the one whom his life centers upon. There were a flash of fire and an instant of dawning horror. Then there was nothing but pain.
The boy's body shuddered as he escaped the memory, returning to the present. With renewed conviction, he desperately shoved this fragment of recollection and all of its accompanying uncertainties far back into the darkness of his mind. Destiny and honor, these two words were his lifeline. He clung to them like an exhausted man clutching a rope amid a raging sea, but fate was not kind. The once blessed heir was now a dragon of torn wings battling helplessly against the punishing wind of a devastating, merciless storm.
He did not know what startled him. Was it the subtle rustle of clothing in the wind or the distant clamor of an awakening crew? Something disturbed the boy from his musings. He became aware of a familiar presence behind him. The comforting scent of tea drifted toward him, carried by the ocean breeze. Still, he did not turn to face the man behind him. Even from where he was standing, he could feel the quiet concern and sorrow radiating from that man, he who had followed the boy from the very heart of their beloved homeland and selflessly eased the pain caused by the banishment.
The boy knew this. He appreciated the man's actions and silent strength and was comforted by them, yet he hated himself for dragging this man down with him. The boy did not wish the man to know that his efforts were failing. Slowly yet surely, the boy was losing hope, eaten by his continued disappointment in himself and in his mission. Though he struggled ferociously against this outcome, he knew that he was losing his desire to rise each day, battle the darkness, and live. So, long ago when the first signs of this appeared, he resolved to never show the man that side of himself. He would don on a scowling mask and hide under a persona of anger. His guise was one of frustration and impatience. His role was that of a proud, driven young man, never faltering in his quest and never resting in his hunt. As much as he wanted to surrender, he never would. For that man, he continued to live as if he has hope, small though it was. He knew that all his anger and rage saddened the man, yet this was all he could summon from his soul and offer as proof that he was still living and still breathing.
The boy took a deep, calming breath inhaling and exhaling. He pushed away from the railing, straightened his shoulders like the royalty he was, assumed his usual frown, and turned to face the man. He looked at the man as the man stood watching in the doorway. The boy then acknowledged that he was not the only one that played parts for the sake of others. For just a second, he saw an uncharacteristic, solemn expression resting on the older man's face which the man quickly replaced with a cheerful grin and a jolly air. Raising a pot, the man spoke, "Nephew, have some tea."