The High King Artur Paendrag Tanreall, called Hawkwing by many, lay sweating in his bed, eyes bright with fever. He tossed and turned, often crying out in delight or horror, depending on the whims of his wild dreams. He could sense people crowding around him, voices frantic.
"Highness, please," one said, seeming to whisper through a thick wad of fabric. "The water sisters are here, please accept Healing. It can still save your life."
"There is no point to this stubbornness," said another, calm and cold. "Will you let yourself die and your kingdom fall apart because you cannot overcome a silly superstition about weaving?"
"No!" he said, sounding almost lucid. "I will not accept your poison, weaver. You destroy everything you touch." His eyes rolled. "Tamika, bring me my sword! There are benders in the palace! Call the guards, warn my children! They must flee! SOMEONE BRING ME MY SWORD!"
The muffled voices grew alarmed, but Artur had stopped listening. His back arched as his delirious mind called forth full-blown panic, and he attempted to rise from the bed.
"Stay down Highness, please! You will hurt yourself!"
"There is no time for this! He must have Healing now, or he will die!"
"You heard him; he will not accept it! Would you force your weaving on an unwilling man?"
"He is a weaver himself – you cannot deny it! All the signs indicate it. Not just any weaver, but the greatest of them all." There was something wrong with that, with what she was saying, but he could not focus. It was all a filthy lie.
"Where is Luthair? Where is my son? He must be here; he must see the benders' treachery. My own subjects' treachery! It was you who betrayed me, Firane, you who let them into the palace!"
Someone gasped. "No, Highness, I would never betray you! I will send the water weavers away – I do not know who allowed them to enter."
Voices again, this time raised in argument. A door slammed. Was that Tamika with his sword? He vaguely remembered calling for her, though he did not know why. He was so tired. He sensed a presence in the room, and somehow knew that Amaline was there, standing beside Tamika. His lovely wives. One seemed to ask a question, and he shook his head.
"I cannot come, yet. The work is not done. The battle is still to be fought."
And with that, the King of the world from the Fire Nation in the west to Ba Sing Se in the East, from North Pole to South, expired, the life leaving his body and the light his eyes.