a/n:
Prompts: Celebrate the end of a long, good life; Joyous; Family; No dialogue; Lightning
Words: 1605
I leaned back against the woven wicker headboard of my bed in the corner of the main square in my hometown, Hira'a. My old, failing eyes looked about in the crimson twilight washing over the village, like a coat of dry, flavorful red wine. All around, lanterns glittered and the smell of fire nation spices floated through the air as a small, joyous party blossomed around my deathbed. Every two or three minutes, my son would wander over and check up on me, offering me soup, or rice, or tea, a drink that he was now very proficient in making.
It seems that my brother in law taught him well.
Zuko was becoming so very gentle, and tranquil, and he always radiated, pure, calm happiness, so different from the troubled little boy I've know in youth. Now, even he was getting old; grey hairs started to work their way up from his temples, lines started to form around his mouth, and the smooth black fibers of his beard started to reach down his chest. The more he aged, the more he looked like the portraits of both his great-grandfather Roku, and Sozin. He is one of the greatest Fire Lords in history, a true tribute to his people. I was so very proud to be his mother.
But I am also proud of my daughter, who I feel I have shamefully neglected all these years. When I saw what she became for the first time since my banishment, I was horrified: at her, at Ozai, and most of all, at myself. I was the one who did not love her enough to fight to stay with her. Although now, she has recovered enough to lead a somewhat normal life, I can still see the residual hint of psychosis in her eyes.
Was I really that reprehensible to her?
Zuko and his friends have assured me time and time again that it was not my fault; that it was all Ozai's fault, or their own fault, or something else in this vast universe that caused my poor child to turn into such a scared, disturbed person. But Azula herself has never come to assure me. She has never accepted my apologies, although she has the capacity to act cordially towards me. And although I have tried to be nothing but gentle and understanding, I still feel fear, coming off her like sporadic bursts of electricty whenever I approach.
The party hummed on around me, but I could not feel happy or restful until I have made peace with my daughter.
Weakly, I turn my head and glance to the side. With nearsighted eyes, I see three figures approaching me. My two daughters and son; Kiyi, who I had with Ikem, and my two elder children, Zuko and Azula.
As if they could sense my weariness, they approached slowly and quietly, sitting down on the chairs. Azula immediately took the chair farthest away, and when Zuko tried to push closer, she zapped him with a small spark of lightning.
After all these years, they were still bickering like children.
I made a small tisking noise, and she looked back at me with slight chagrin, but resentment as well. It killed me inside that she still hasn't trusted me after all this time.
Nevertheless, she still approached me, and sat down very close to the head of the bed, where I was propped up by red pillows. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but I gently and lovingly placed a finger over her lips. In these final moments, in this critical time, our family needed no words to understand each other. We did not need to see with our eyes, or hear with our ears; we simply needed to feel each other through the adamant, inexplicable closeness wrought by blood and cherishment.
I reached out, and with strength that I did not know I had, and tugged her downwards into a crushing hug, quite possibly the last one I will ever give her. I wanted to say how much I cherish her and care about her, and how proud I am. I wanted to apologize for leaving her and causing so much anguish to her confused mind. I wanted to tell her to be peaceful when I die, to finally let her demons leave this world with me. But most of all, I wanted her to know, that although I will be gone, my love will always be left, long after my heart has deteriorated and my bones turned to dust. Even if she can't stand my presence, I hope that she will finally accept my love and allow it to ease the burden of life on her shoulders. I wanted to tell her all of these things, yet all I managed was a small, choked sob.
But when she pulled back, her eyes told me that she understood. Those lovely golden irises were the clearest they've been since she was a young, innocent baby. In the moment of inevitable loss, she had finally recognized the secret of life, love, and happiness. Unexpectedly, she dropped down and hugged me, burying her face into my chest and crying the way she never allowed herself to as a child. Sobs shook her frame, dampness leaked out of her eyes, and yet all I could feel was joyous relief. Finally, the dams were broken and my daughter could take the first step down the freeflowing river of emotional revival, emptying into the sea of trust.
Then, I felt more arms encircling us, Zuko and Kiyi, all together, all connected, all one family. Bittersweet tears flooded out liberally, carrying with them the infinite numbers of unspoken, yet undeniably lucid ideas.
We stayed that way for a long time.
Finally, Azula pulled away, face mostly clear, and let out a deep, resounding sigh. She looked panicked for a moment, as if her weakness was the bidding of the monster in me, a creature that haunted her schizophrenic mind. But in another moment, it was gone, replaced instead by peace, and clarity, and a small, tentative inkling of trust. She took a step backwards and took a deep breath before thrusting her palms in the air.
Roaring blue fire leapt up from her hands, ejected high into the sky like massive, swirling fireworks. The tongues of flame spiraled around each other, carried by the currents of air high above their heads. It was white in the core, but tapered off into blue, then orange, then red, before dying into blackness.
Zuko lifted his hands too, his orange fire intertwining with Azula's blue, swirling about each other like fantastic marbled heat. I was touched by this impromptu gesture of respect.
Azula's eyes met mine again, and she stopped her fire for a moment in order to make swirling motions with her arms. The air all around us crackled with tension, a thrilling sensation that people do not normally have a chance to feel when they get to my age anymore. White sparks crackled all around my daughter before she swooped them in a wide arch and pointed her fingertips at the sky.
Brilliant fractals of light lit up the inky darkness like glowing branches of a tree, reaching higher and higher to escape into outer space. The stars and even the moon seemed to be momentarily obscured by the radiance of the stream of electricity flowing out Azula's fingertips. With loud snaps of static, the branches shifted back and forth sporadically, extending, contracting and expanding across the sky.
The bluish white light flooded haphazardly onto everyone, reflecting off of their eyes as they watched the magnificent, hair raising display with awe.
After an infinitely long moment, the last crackles of lighting died away and Azula dropped her arms, looking drained, but relatively calm. Unexpectedly, she put her arms around Zuko and Kiyi voluntarily, while looking at me.
I smiled at her through tears of happiness. She was showing her reverence as much as possible, in the only ways she knew how; and respecting my final wishes of her finally getting along with the rest of the family, finally trusting me, finally trying to heal herself.
I breathed deeply and leaned back in my bed. I finally felt ready to go…
With failing vision, I watched as the rest of Royal Family and friends gathered around me…
Zuko, Azula, Kiyi, Ikem, the Avatar and family and friends, Zuko's daughter Izumi, her three year old son Iroh, named after my former brother in law.
They were sad, but joyous as well. So was I. When I was gone, they would continue my legacy, and insure that the Royal Family would never again be responsible for such reprehensible actions such as the Hundred Year War. My children were becoming great leaders...
I closed my eyes and smiled as the warm dusky breeze blew away the last wisps of daylight. Darkness fell as I was taken over by a wave of exhaustion, a kind of satisfying tiredness that came at the end of a long day's work.
This lifetime is over, and I'm happy to allow my body's soul to cross into the next. To continue the cycle of birth and growth and death.
For a second, I could hear all the joyous whispers of the spirits and people, giving me energy to power through the blackness...and then my consciousness stopped.
The last wisps of life dispersed into the universe, and my last action was to smile for my children and grandchildren and all generations that will live and learn after my death.
a/n: That was Ursa, btw.
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