I don't own ATLA
I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender
Ch. 3
The week passed by in an uneventful manner. Mr. Sidle decided Katara was worthy to stay on the staff, considering she completed her chores adequately and helped others without having to be asked, and she never started any trouble unlike Suki. Mr. Sidle was in a tense mood, more so than normal, considering the Master was coming home and everything had to be perfect for his arrival.
Zuko's room was cleansed from floor to ceiling, new sheets provided for the bed, the carpet received two thorough beatings, and his clothes washed and folded. The room was spotless, Mr. Sidle having been present through the whole cleaning, and even helped dust a few fragile objects on the mantelpiece.
Katara being a new arrival worked in less important areas then Zuko and Iroh's bedrooms. The dark colors of the quarters continued to disturb her, but a walk through the gardens after the chores were completed cheered her immensely. By now she had every path, alcove, nook, and recess of the garden memorized.
The day was clear and sunny, just as June aught to be, and everyone started the morning as usual, but there was a tense feeling of anticipation in the air. Mrs. White, the cook, was up at four to prepare the special homecoming feast. Roasted quail marinated in a creamy vermouth dressing, pumpkin ravioli with a hazelnut sage sauce, fresh fruit, and Greek salads with olives shipped from Greece were all on the menu. The dessert, a strawberry cream cake, was the Master's favorite and most dedicated piece for the dinner.
Mr. Sidle, especially anxious, was on the lookout for the coming of Zuko's favorite Rolls Royce since ten. The servants were attired in their dress uniforms to greet the master politely when he arrived, but more as a friendly reunion since only a few new maids had been hired since his departure.
Zuko peered out the window of the passenger seat as the familiar sights came into view. A cane was strewn across his lap reminding him why he was excessively peeved. His ribs not fully healed, required the extra help of a cane when walking for support. The doctor, "just to be safe," would not let him drive home, so a chauffeur was necessary, and he was driving the speed limit.
The old town he loved, twenty miles outside of London, passed before his eyes as they traveled to the north end, where his cozy mansion lay, or at least he thought it was cozy, the townsfolk on the other hand said it was haunted. They passed Mrs. Brown's Bakery, which supplied the most delicious cheese strudel, and the small crumbling library. Zuko greeted the sights happily, a great change from when he first arrived at fourteen.
The automobile smoothly glided along the dirt road surrounded by forestry leading up to the castle. The green was lush and in full bloom, especially vivid in the late morning sun. The chauffeur stopped at the front entrance allowing Zuko to enter where the servant's waited to meet him. Their round faces glowed with nervous delight as Zuko walked clumsily into the front hall, cane in use.
"Welcome home master," Mr. Sidle declared shaking Zuko's strong hand, "We are overjoyed at your return."
"As am I," Zuko said with a genuine smile on his face as he greeted not only his servants but friends. Mrs. White embraced Zuko as if he was her own child, ignoring the rules that divided them in class.
"Let me introduce to you our newest hireling, Katara Drasinki," Mr. Sidle said grinning at the young dark haired girl.
Katara bowed as respectfully and gracefully as she could muster, breaking out of her entrancement with the pale golden eyed scarred face. Katara had never seen a more handsome face, even marred by such a large scar it was still beautiful. His hair, black as night, fell in jacked edges around his face, perfectly messy. Even though he was leaning on a cane, she could tell his arms and chest were muscular.
"Are you Polish then?" He asked quietly, looking intently at Katara.
"Yes, my family is from Warsaw. We had an apartment in the middle of the city," Katara answered politely, her voice steady, the beautiful Poland her anchor, "I've only been in this country for a few months."
"And how long of that have you been working here?" Zuko asked remembering how civil conversations were supposed to be carried out. He never really was much of talker, and after awhile they just became dull and boring.
"Just a week sir." Many foreigners filled the streets of London working in hotels, restaurants, factories, and anywhere jobs were available
"Do you like it here?"
"Very much sir, the gardens are lovely, the people very nice, and the house is fine, but it's just so dark," Katara said innocently, "None of the rooms have any brightness. The colors are so dead."
"Really," Zuko said curiously reviewing the rooms he could remember in his head, "I guess there's a reason the people in the village call it haunted." Gingerly, he removed his jacket and handed it to Henry, one of the footmen, and walked for the stairs, wishing to be along once again.
The servants dispersed, going back to their normal duties. Katara having been dusting the cabinet in the entrance hall, stayed in the room to finish her task. Katara hearing a sigh, turned around to see Zuko walking painfully and slowly up the long staircase and trying to think of it was appropriate to help him or not, Zuko reached step five and a grimace of pain came over his face. Overcome with emotion, Katara rushed forward to help him.
"I'm fine," he muttered grumpily, "I don't need any help." Hearing his tone, Katara backed away, but as he tripped, she hurried to support him again.
"You may think your fine, but you won't be when you're sprawled on the ground because of pride," Katara said forgetting herself for a moment. Men always were obstinate.
Zuko just grunted unhappily. How could he become so weak that a skinny, un-muscular girl had to help him up a flight of stairs? The girl's firm hand around his waist did not help his concentration, so he stumbled a little more then normal, becoming increasingly displeased with the situation. Eventually they made it to the top and he dismissed her with a wave of his hand, not looking back to see her perplexed face.
Katara was perplexed. His manner on the stairs was of brooding detachment, not saying anything at all, not even saying thank you when they reached the hallway of the second floor. She thought about this as she mopped the dinning room, washed the curtains, scrubbed the silverware, trimmed the rose bush, during dinner, and finally as she lay in bed that night.
Zuko was in a state of grumpy discomfort. It hurt to do everything; walking, eating, sitting, thinking, and even going to the bathroom caused distress. Feeling like a toddler again was not enjoyable to a twenty year old male. It felt good to be in his own room again with no fluttering nurses, though he was very grateful to them. After awhile sitting in his room just gazing out the window became tedious and he wanted to go to the library, but that was on the first floor and a trip down the stairs would not be easily attainable.
So he decided to visit the music room. An old piano sat in the corner, a flute lay in a velvet case, and a violin held neatly on a stand stood unperturbed next to a shelf filled with music. More instruments littered the room here and there, Iroh being such a music fanatic. This room was one of the few regularly cleaned and inhabited during the war. Zuko had never been much of a musician, but his mom like many had forced him to take piano lessons.
He sat down on the stained old bench next to the upright and plucked a few notes on the ivory keys. Testing his proficiency, Zuko grabbed Mozart's Waltz in A Minor and garbled through the music, if you could call what he played music. He could only play one volume, loud, and all the notes were choppy and irregular, but it was a start. After a few run-throughs, the piece sounded more like a distressed bird then a dying ostrich.
"I've always loved that song," Iroh said entering the room, "I'm happy you're playing music again. The house has been so quiet lately."
"After a few days of my playing you'll welcome the silence," Zuko replied moodily.
"Nonsense, you're bad but not that bad," Iroh said happily sitting down in an over-stuffed armchair. Sighing, he closed his eyes and leaned against the squishy back. It was good to have his nephew home again. Zuko just ignored him and took a piece of Debussy which was impossible. Zuko never was much of a fan of Debussy. All his songs were frustrating, containing either five sharps or six flats. Losing his patience, Zuko stepped off the bench scraping it along the floor as he did.
"Done already?" Iroh inquired. "They're probably ready for dinner anyways. I hear it's going to be really special," he added winking.
"Yeah," Zuko said smiling for his uncle, even though he'd enjoy a quiet dinner in one of the alcoves of his gardens more. The servants, he knew were excited, and Mrs. White who followed him into exile from his Father's he could not disappoint. He would smile, and laugh, and act happy for them. Tonight, he could not let the images of war come to him.
Slowly, Zuko walked to his room. His back was stiff, his ribs hurt, his leg ached dully, but he tried to be cheery. He was older, more mature, he did not need to cause his uncle more worry. Then again, if he was standing a few inches to the left when the submarine exploded, he wouldn't be here at all.
Sighing, he buttoned up the uncomfortable collar of an oxford shirt he was required to where for such a dinner occasion. The black pants he secured around his waist after all could be starchier and tighter. Even though his uncle would be disappointed, he refused to wear a tie.
This time, Iroh waited for Zuko at the stairs and helped him down after many unpleasant grumblings and denials. With Iroh, Zuko being not as flustered was able to maneuver more smoothly down each step. Strangely, surprising himself, Zuko wished it was Katara's small hand around his waist, not his uncle's. Blushing, he pushed that thought quickly out of his traitorous mind.
At the bottom, he quickly separated from his uncle, who just chuckled and moved on towards the dining room, which was lavishly decorated. All the silver was polished and on display at the buffet table, the best china was set out, and a row of delicious and beautifully decorated food sat in the middle of the table, but the dessert still waiting in the kitchen for the main course to be over. Mr. Sidle hurried into the room and helped Iroh and Zuko into the chairs, much to Zuko's dismay.
I hope you enjoy your meal," Mr. Sidle beamed, very glad that the owner was restored in the house again. It already felt a hundred times less lonely.
"I will," Iroh exclaimed, "Everything looks so delicious, Mrs. White really outdid herself."
Mrs. White and all the servants, who were waiting behind the door, glowed with delight at this praise. Content with the situation, they walked back to the kitchen where they eagerly awaited the deliverance of the strawberry cream cake.
"You should bring it up, you're the one who baked it," Suki said fervently to Mrs. White.
"But it would be improper for me to serve it," Mrs. White replied dejectedly, "That's Mr. Sidle's job."
"But it's so old-fashioned and Zuko would probably like to thank you. It's his favorite cake; he'll want to see you," Suki shot back, firm in her desire for the chef to present the cake, which was delightfully adorned with strawberries and cream and mint leaves.
"I guess it would be all right and if that's would Zuko would want then…"
"Good!" Suki exclaimed grabbing the dessert and shoving it into Mrs. White's waiting hands, "He'll be so happy, you'll see."
Zuko finished his roast quail, but did not ask for seconds, leaving room for the dessert he knew was so excitedly waiting for him. Mrs. White probably prepared something special, and he wanted to make her as happy as possible. He was so far doing a very good job at hiding the anxiety that was waiting to leak through, the dreams that might come to him that night, but then he found himself genuinely happy as Mrs. White, burst through the door with a huge smile on her face carrying a delicious strawberry cream cake.
"You made my favorite," Zuko grinned back, "A perfect dessert to wrap up your splendid meal."
"I knew you'd like it," Mrs. White said beaming with so much pleasure that Zuko felt guilty for not originally wanting to come, "But don't say it's good yet until you try it. This time I added a new ingredient and I want to make sure you like it."
Zuko smiled, and scooped a big slice onto a new plate. Mrs. White waited anxiously as Zuko ate a bite, swallowed and looked towards her. "It's even better than the last time."
"I'm so happy," Mrs. White said bustling towards the door, "Wyborowa…that's the new ingredient. Katara gave it to me, some kind of alcohol from Poland. I mixed it in with the cream."
End of Chapter 3
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