A/N ok so this chapter took me forever to write. I have three completely different drafts for this chapter but none of them worked out how I wished, eventually I got it right. I have done a lot of thinking on how I want this story to continue. This chapter is in the past and the present, but the next chapter will be the future, I know it's a bit dull and probably confusing, but I wanted to establish a more personal reason for Zhao's murder of the moon spirit. I swear the next chap will be more interesting.
Proclaimer- I do not own anything from avatar.
Revenge is a poison meant for others that we take ourselves.
No one could hear him scream, no one could save him now. Water filled his lungs and crept into every crevasse. His body was stiff, and yet he had no control over it as he involuntarily heaved and spluttered.
For as long as he could remember he had always hated the water! The ever changing tides, the inconsistency, the submission! It was against everything he was about! He, Admiral Zhao was fearless, feared, hated, dominant, and relentless! Routine and discipline were his teachers; strength and power were his friends. But the water, no. the water was his enemy, one he hated to his core and yet sadly envied. Water was his weakness, his punisher, his killer.
As a boy, Zhao and his bother used to live by the ocean with their father and mother. His father was the captain of one of the Firelord's command ships and was often away at sea for most of the year.
When Zhao was six years old, his father had taken him and his younger brother out fishing on his boat. He and his brother had been out on their fathers expertly crafted fishing boat a many a times. It was the one thing Zhao had cherished the most of his childhood, spending time with his brother and father. Little did he know that this particular day held tragedy?
Zhao could remember choking and gasping for air, and yet completely unable to suffice the need of his lungs. His father's boat had capsized due to a rogue wave that had come out from nowhere. The boat had pinned he and his brother beneath the bow, rendering them completely helpless.
As Zhao fought to reach his brother he felt strain against his collar as he was pulled out from under the boat and up to the surface, all the while watching his brother struggle with the boat sail that he was tangled in.
The younger Zhao held onto the upturned boat for dear life as he watched his father dive back under for his brother.
He waited and waited, as the seconds became minutes, but no sight of his father and brother surfaced. The minutes soon turned into hours still holding up hope that his father and brother would rise up from their watery graves.
Zhao was out on the water alone on a sinking upturned boat for three days before help came. In that time, he had lost his father and brother, succumbed to intense hunger and thirst pains, and been stalked by sharks.
It never left his mind; the water had haunted him like a ghost from that day on. It was only natural that his worst fear would eventually swallow him up. Zhao vowed from that day, that he would get his revenge against the water that had taken his beloved sibling and idol. How, he did not know, but one day , he would hurt the ocean and make it experience the pain he had felt.
And now it hurt to breathe. Each time Zhao inhaled it felt like large spikes were driving themselves through his chest. His whole body ached from the cold water that suppressed him, his insides threatening to push out from every orifice. He had had his sweet revenge, but instead of feeling elated, proud and accomplished he felt empty and lost. The anger that had consumed him for majority of his life, that had driven him to this day had left him.
The anger had gone and yet there was no satisfaction. He had waited for this moment, and it had blown up in his face. He should of known the water would defeat him. Revenge is a continuous act until there is none left to seek it. Zhao wondered if he would be avenged.
He sank deeper and deeper as if he were made of heavy rock. He was no longer buoyant, nor was his skin plump and pink, but instead hard, heavy and blue.
He could feel cracking and sharp pains within his barrel shaped chest. He suspected that his ribs were breaking under the heavy pressure of the water.
The once infamous admiral drew in his last breath of unsatisfying water and hung peacefully suspended in time. He now understood the pain of his lost loved ones and what they had endured.
Zhao welcomed the silence of his water catacomb. If this was death, he liked it.
R.R please. And thank you to the one review from last chapter.