Disclaimer: I hold no ties with Avatar: The Last Airbender. This work of fiction was created for, and only for, the sole purpose of entertainment. No profits were obtained from the makings of this story. Credits go out to Nickelodeon, Michael DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko respectively.
. . .
. . .
Summary: A struggling prince tries to maintain order. Torn between civil war and personal resentment, Zuko attempts to lead a revolution against those that betrayed his people. Along the way, a life-changing meeting with a water healer sets him on his destiny.
. . .
. . .
Attention: I received a couple of reviews; critical and honest reviews, regarding the Mako and Korra ship. To those of you wondering, this story is not going to be based off of Mako and Korra; it is a ZUTARA fic. You can treat the prior as a sub-plot perhaps. There will be other sides to the story, but Katara/Zuko are going to be the main characters. Do not despair!
I do appreciate the reviews, however. Constructive criticism is what I honestly prefer over praise.
. . .
. . .
"If you had one shot, or one opportunity . . . to seize everything you ever wanted . . . In one moment. Would you capture it? Or just let it slip?"
~Eminem, Lose Yourself
Chapter III– Awaken the Spirit
170ASC, Republic City: Air Temple Island
He felt himself freeze then, stiff as a board. Take away bending? he thought, How! Why? The bastards– the fucking insane, evil, conniving little sneaks. Let them try, just let them! I swear . . .
Korra was talking again, and he forced himself to reign in his anger and fear. On the outside, Mako appeared calm and collected, showing no signs of how rampant the thoughts in his head ran. Internally, it felt as if someone had just dropped a rock into his stomach. He shivered.
"–and that's why they most likely took you as one of their experiments, you being a bender and all." The girl paused, eyes wide with concern. "Mako . . . are you okay?" she asked.
"I . . . I– think I'll be alright." He croaked. "It's just that, how . . . how could they do such a thing?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "All I do know is that the White Lotus has been trying to stop them for a long, long time now . . . without a whole lot of success, either. I hear some of the elder council members say that it's only a matter of time before they figure out how the codex pages of the scientist can be changed."
The underlying tone was there in her voice: There's nothing else we can do.
His body tensed then and an anxious silence settled down between them. Mako could feel the mutual repulsiveness coat the air, staining it a bitter and twisted essence. It felt hard to merely breathe in its poisonous ardor. He felt weak and afraid. Like all the hope had been sucked out of him.
It felt like the first time he had realized he was an orphan.
The scene itself had been easy enough to decipher. A bar, some broken remnants of wood and liquor glasses, and a cold, dead body sprawled on the floor. That was the last glimpse Mako had seen of his father; his mother had already passed away when both he and Bolin were younger.
Something hardened inside of him then. Never give up without a fight . . . the mantra thrummed internally. Figments of shadowed reality blurred through Mako's vision, and a flicker of a memory caught steady. His mind felt as if it had suddenly been zapped with another stranger's life.
He was in the woods, breathing heavily. It seemed he had lost them; the earthbenders, the traitors, the ones who had slaughtered his homeland. Agni had spared him this petty dignity, complete without an audience. Now was time for the irrevocable act of rebellion against his people. Now was the time for him to do the necessary and the painfully belittling ritual to strip himself of all traditions. He was doing it for the best interests of everyone, but that did nothing to dampen the bitter humiliation.
The sharp edge of a silver knife shore through his topknot and a feeling of clarity conceded itself within him. Silky strands of hair parted through young callused hands, floating down into a gurgling stream, down and out of his sight of view. It was almost therapeutic; the sense of finally reaching a decision chosen, not forced upon him, bolstered his flagging strength.
Tawny eyes flecked with unshed tears beheld the engravings on the knife, burying its words deep into the recesses of the firebender's mind.
'Never give up without a fight'
Banished he may have been, but finished he most certainly was not. Even at the age of only ten-and-thirteen, he knew there were things to be done. For staring at him, through the gleam of the blade, was the reflection of a newly healing scar. It reminded him of who he was and what he had to do. Giving up was never an option. Not now, not ever.
The sound of heavy footsteps down the trail behind him awoke an internal sensation of primitive and animalistic instincts. Adrenaline coursed through his body, and in a flash, he was out of the open and scampering deeper into the heavy foliage.
The remnant faded away and Mako blinked rapidly a few times. Gone was the wooded land and stream; he was back inside the Air Temple bunker. Korra was looking at him strangely.
Mako cleared his throat. "These uh, White Lotus people . . . are they somewhere close by? Is there any way we could reach them quickly?" he asked carefully, shaking away the strange and ghostly tingle at the back of his head.
"There are actually a few here at the temple. Tenzin –that's my new airbending instructor, is one of the members on the council," Korra said. She frowned slightly. "Why?"
Mako looked at her, "There's something I want to . . . discuss with them."
The young Avatar tilted her head ever-so-slightly, brows furrowed in the beginnings of a question. Through the dim light, he could make out the athletic frame of his new and tentative ally. Her toned muscles contrasted with the faint signs of softness that caressed the edges of her face. Gentle, delicately angled and feminine.
Mako's obscure comment and façade turned thoughtful, as he subtly took in the features of the girl sitting beside him. His relaxed posture must have appeased her, as she simply nodded and stood up to her feet.
"I think that I could get an appointment settled for you." She paused, sliding a stray strand of brown hair back behind her ear, "but not tonight. Rest, and in the morning you can talk with Tenzin."
Their eyes met one another's. Looking more accurately now, the firebender could make out emerald flecks of green within Korra's irises. They were iridescent in color, almost green, almost blue; a blue-green. They stood out prominently against the tan shade of her skin, bright and inquisitive and yearning. And even though Mako still had questions lingering on his tongue, he swallowed them and nodded in acquiescence.
"Alright. That sounds like a plan," he murmured.
Korra smiled softly. "Okay then. I guess I'll see you in the morning."
With that the female Avatar departed from the humble little room, bidding him a good night and leaving Mako alone to dwell on his many unanswered questions. Questions of his lapses in veracity, of his visions of a man hidden beneath a blue mask; hidden even further by the large scar obscuring his face. Questions of dancing dragons and shimmering flames, of anti-benders and many others beside. Questions, questions, questions!
The White Lotus would hopefully be able to decipher them, he cogitated. That or the life Mako knew would cease to exist.
As he flicked the light back off, resting his head against the pliable cushion of a pillow, the firebender failed to realize that his world had changed ever since he had fell prey into the shifting reality of the Animus.
. . .
. . .
. . .
The next day came around, fruitful with the scents of a summer's morning. Sea gulls cawed archly and the quiet rasp of waves crashed against the island. Mako woke to the sound a sharp tapping against his door.
Korra peeked inside.
"We really need to leave . . . like now," she said.
The groggy firebender blinked the sleep from out of his eyes and half-chuckled at the irony of how their second morning meeting –of when he was awake at least– started. It was almost precisely like the first; minus the worry and agitation and confusion and . . .
"Morning' to you to," Mako said, derailing his roaming thoughts. He watched quietly as Korra smiled happily. She shook her head.
"Seriously Mako, Tenzin is a bit of a stickler when it comes to being tardy. Trust me, I would know. He's one of those hardcore traditionalists. All punctual and uptight and everything."
"Oh . . . I guess we should probably be off then."
"Good guess, hot stuff."
Again with that nickname. The firebender shook it off, lithely getting out of his bed and fixing the wrinkles in his clothes. He raised an eyebrow over at Korra as if to ask her: 'Are you ready?'
Without another word, she turned out of the doorway and began to walk away. Mako trailed briskly behind her, his long legs eating up the distance almost lazily.
They passed by a number of similar looking bunkers and doors, before ascending to the ground floor and walking out of the temple. Had he been more attentive, Mako might have admired the old beauty of the place, filled with air nomad depictions and paintings. Instead, he simply followed the trim and agile Avatar, watching the slight swish of her hips as she stepped.
They traveled by a number of blue cloaked guards who all seemed huddled together in differing groups, their eyes following both of them carefully. Mako and Korra walked along a cobblestone trail to another sector of the island. They passed the main road that led out of Air Temple Island, and Mako squinted to see a commotion on the bridge –the one, he noted, that they had jumped a few days earlier– and saw what appeared to be construction vehicles. It looked like the bridge would be closed for a while . . . oops.
Soon the trail ended and the two benders were walking into another temple. It was a spindly tower more than anything. Quickly, they took a spiraling staircase all the way to the top. The twirling and spinning staircase definitely bespoke of the Air Nomad's style of bending; avoidance and circles. Lots of them. It made Mako a bit sick just thinking about how many times the stairs seemed to twist.
When they reached the end of the steps, barred entrance by thick oak doors Korra turned to face him. "Ready?" she asked.
He nodded.
And without preamble, Korra pushed open the doors.
A tall man, who even seemed to tower over Mako, looked at them with calm grey eyes. Blue arrowed tattoos stood out on his alabaster skin, stretching from his bald head and at his hands. A pointed beard made his features seem even sharper than the arrows tattooed on him. He spoke grandly, his voice sonorous and rich.
"Ah, so you must be the one caught in the meddling of my pupil. Mako is your name, isn't it? Come, come, take a seat. There are many things we need to discuss."
Mute as ever, Mako took a seat on one of the proffered cushions given to him. There was a slightly raised table in front of the firebender. Scrolls lay sprawled out across it. Korra took a seat next to him while the tall monk walked past them both, taking a cushion at the head of the table. The man –Tenzin–Mako reminded himself, looked at him expectantly.
"Korra tells me you wished to ask a few . . . questions," he began.
Mako dipped his head slightly in confirmation.
"I think . . . no, I am pretty sure that I can answer some of them. If they are about what I suspect, that is. But for the rest, you should be able to answer them for yourself." He was floating off in an indirect direction, so like his element. The master airbender paused, pulling at his beard. "I have a question for you, actually. Tell me Mako, what do these scrolls say?" Tenzin gestured to the many parchments that lay in front of him.
Mako's eyes darted down to said scrolls. It looked like they were written in gibberish. "I don't know," he answered.
"These scrolls," Tenzin said, "are written in old Fire Nation scripture. They tell the life and death of perhaps one of the most famous firebenders in the whole of history. What you are looking at right now, is a piece of the ancient past."
"Oh . . ." Mako blinked. From the corners of his eyes, he could see Korra doing much the same.
"Korra said that you understand the situation the White Lotus finds itself in," Tenzin continued, changing the subject. "That we are steadily watching the Equalist party rise to power here in Republic City. And how they are trying to find a way to prevent bending indefinitely through the use of the Animus. Some inside sources say they test their subjects voraciously and force them to undergo what one could be considered a 'Spiritual Awakening' of sorts. Once someone enters inside of the Animus, they bear the full brunt of their ancestor's life and are eventually consumed . . . mentally of course. It is rare to hear of anyone leave the Animus unaffected."
The monk paused, seeming lost in thought. "This you have experienced firsthand." He said. "Granted, it was not nearly as strenuous or long as the average subject is supposedly induced to. But nonetheless it is indeed remarkable. And you seem to be mentally stable; another feat not many are able to boast about."
Scattered and vivid images that were of things he had never seen popped up inside of Mako's head, reminding him of his momentary lapses. "I've been having visions though," he blurted.
Tenzin's eyes lost their soft and airy look. Sharp and grey, like liquid pools of silver, they zeroed in on Korra. "You never said anything about this," he snapped.
"Don't look at me! This is new information to me too!" Korra snarked back. She glared at her mentor.
Tenzin standoffishly returned her glower with equal fervor.
. . .
The stare down continued, smoldering with challenge. One could hear a pin drop in the room. Mako twitched uneasily in his seat.
"Is this . . . bad?" He asked uncertainly, trying to break the silence.
A breath of uneasy air seemed to exhale in the room. "It complicates matters," Tenzin admitted slowly. "Though I do suppose it should have been expected."
"What do you mean?" The firebender said.
"It means you're suffering from the Bleeding Effect," Korra said grudgingly. "It's one of the first signs of mental instability. The Bleeding Effect is caused by prolonged exposure in the Animus. If you stay in it too long–"
"– you lose sense of reality and can no longer distinguish things that are, and things that once were," The monk finished. "In many cases it leads to insanity, madness, and eventually, death. It can be prevented, however, if you stay out of the Animus long enough and if you take the necessary safety precautions. Usually the effects will wear off in time."
Mako shuddered imperceptibly. What a horrible way to die, he thought. Lost in a world that isn't yours. Without even realizing it . . . Though this revelation troubled him, Mako's mind jumped back to what Tenzin had admitted before Korra's explanation. Suspicion crawled into his face, eliciting a frown on his features.
"How would this complicate matters then?" he demanded. "I don't plan on returning into that thing anytime soon, so I should be good then, right? . . . right?"
Tenzin didn't reply. And it was in this noncompliance, etched with the monk's stony and reserved countenance, that made Mako see an ulterior motive lingering beneath the surface. Korra said she had saved him, seemingly out of her self-duty to the world. Because she was the Avatar. He had bought it at first, had taken her words at face value. But now Mako understood. It had been a set up, a farce and faked friendship. It was to lure him into a sense of false security, before slamming him back into that stupid machine to get more information out of him. Granted, they were being amicable with him and their motives seemed to be different than the Equalists' . . . but it still meant they were no better than the ones who had tested on him before. They were using him.
His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping angrily with an effort to stay under control.
"I am going back in then." It was a statement of cold, hard truth. There was no questioning in it. Mako scowled, standing up rebelliously from his seat. "Well you can forget it, I'm not doing it. I don't need your help to solve this. In fact, Bolin and I are leaving RIGHT now." He turned to walk out of the doors.
"It's not what you think–" Korra started.
"Save it for someone who cares," he snarled.
"Quit being such a jerk!"
He ignored her. Just as his outstretched hand was about to make contact with the door handle, Tenzin's booming voice stopped him cold.
"Don't you think it's strange," he said, voice heavy with stiff certainty, "that I have yet to call the guards to prevent you from leaving? Why, I don't think you'd be able to make it down this tower if I wanted to keep you here."
Mako froze and lowered his hand, still staring at the door. The old monk did have a point . . .
"Don't you think it's strange," said Tenzin, "that I have placed rare and valuable scrolls, ones that are nearly a century old, down on this table? To convince some mere stranger about entering the Animus, to pique his interest so he chooses of his own free will. There are men that would kill for these relics, yet you have no inclination to hear me out?"
Tenzin's questioning tone shifted into a sterner command. "Boy, if I had wanted to force you into the Animus, I would have done so without the need for civility. Sit. Down."
Mako returned to his cushion, brooding silently. He looked downwards in shame at his rash decision. From his bowed position, he saw Korra with a look of pitying comfort on her face. She obviously had been chewed out and had sense thwacked into her like this before.
" Read the title of the first scroll," Tenzin commanded.
" I can't do–" Mako began.
"Read. It. The Bleeding Effect transmits your ancestor's past learnings to you through your subconscious. Read it. Focus. Concentrate. Now read."
Mako stared grimly at the slanted glyphs. A minute passed by with nothing. Then two.
Read! his mind shouted.
And suddenly, he could read. The ancient fire script danced into focus, blazing with old history and understanding. Letters swirled into words, and words into a title. Mako could understand.
Volume I–History of a Forgotten Prince: The Fire War Renaissance
~Professor Zei, Head of Anthropology
He mouthed the words quietly. The firebender lifted his head to stare questioningly at Tenzin.
"But what does this mean? How does this help me understand what these visions are?" he asked.
"It should be obvious," Tenzin said. "Your ancestor whose memories you've accessed is none other than your great, great grandfather. You are the descendant of Zuko himself."
. . .
. . .
. . .
It had been three hours since the incident and the shock had yet to wear off. From a boy with nothing safe for his wits, who was forced to raise himself and a sibling on the streets, to a young man with a royal lineage . . . the mere thought boggled his mind. That meant HE was quite closely related to the reigning Fire Lord, one of the most powerful firebenders in the world today.
After their meeting, Mako agreed to enter the Animus, regardless of the potential dangers. A boyish sense of curiosity seemed to have grabbed hold of him. A treacherous one. The scrolls were only simple figments and pieces of his heritage. They had delved into the wider span of Fire Nation history, not the legacy, not the person; not Zuko.
The Animus would allow him to relive his great, great, grandfather's lifetime. Something like madness burned in his eyes. He could finally understand the distorted images in his mind.
As the slightly stabbing injection of sleeping serum wormed its way through his body, Mako's eyes dipped lower, bright and golden irises surrendering themselves to an opportunity of which only destiny could capture. The thrums and clicks of the Animus –an older model compared to the higher-tech metal bed from the Equalist's hideout– faded into obscurity.
Soon, Mako was asleep.
. . .
. . .
"Do you think he'd understand?" Korra asked.
Tenzin was pensive. "Understand what, dear?"
"Why the Equalists want him."
"No . . . No, I do not think he would understand. That boy is to sharp for his own good. The ploy just about fell apart when he put two-and-two together. I was sure he would call us out. I saw it in his eyes."
"Why– why didn't he?"
"He likes you, pupil Korra. That's why. He respects and trusts you. You've barely met him, and he already believes in you."
A slight blush. And then: "I . . . I feel like I betrayed him. Like I betrayed his trust."
"It is better this way. He and his brother will be safe."
. . .
. . .
. . .
Somewhere in the small hideaway of a simple and blank apartment, a man wearing an unfathomable white mask began to chuckle darkly.
. . .
. . .
. . .
Author's Note: End Republic City scene now! Originally, I was going to draw this out a bit more and get more character development going but . . . plans change. I'll be adding dates to the story (ex: 94 ASC) *ASC –After Sozin's Comet– to help with the confusion of time switches/changes.
This chapter felt rushed to me . . . *runs palm down face*. Ah. Anyways, hope you guys are liking it so far. Feel free to PM me about questions or concerns or ideas.
As to reviews, if you review, expect me to respond as quickly as possible. Given my hectic life, that may or may not be very fast. But . . . I do try to get to know my readers better through PMing; your likes/dislikes, things that interest you, et cetera. It helps with the flow of things. And it gives me INSPIRATION :D something I need. A lot.
I'd like to happily inform you that the transition back into the Animus shall also take us back to Zuko and Katara . . . *shrugs*. See, these two chappies of Mako & Korra weren't THAT bad . . . right?
Special thanks to all of those who reviewed last chapter(s). I appreciate them all. As to my anonymous reviewers –especially those who I can't stalk/track down by typing in your name in the search bar: leave me something to contact you with! I'd like to personally thank you in a personal/private message.
Thanks guys, and I'll be seeing you in Chapter IV :)