Nights in Egypt
Chapter Fourteen: Dancing in the Moonlight
Zuko watched from his bedroom window as she trained.
From her feeble first attempts, stretching her fingers and curling her wrists and trying to get the water—a particularly smooth element—to do her bidding. But the water was even more stubborn, dropping out of midair and splashing across her and whipping back at her in rebellious retaliation to every command she threw at it.
Even her mask collected tranquility couldn't hide the disappointment lingering in the depths of her blue, blue eyes.
"I never said this would be easy." Master Pakku muttered eerily into the night, his slanted silver eyes were harsher than he'd ever seen, dead set on the girl's form and clenched, white knuckled fists.
She exhaled through her teeth. "I know,"
Anyone could tell she was trying to remain calm.
"Let's do it again."
Zuko though it was funny how they all ate breakfast together like some dysfunctional extended family. The slaves set out large trays of food, Iroh and Pakku talked idly on politics and Zuko observed the surroundings and the people in the room.
"How is she fairing?"
"Oh, well,"
Liar. Zuko wanted to scoff, but knew well-enough to hold his tongue when the 'elders' spoke. Apparently what they said was important.
Chairs scrapped back against the tiled floors and Zuko's eyes elevated upward to find the source of the disturbance. No surprise, it was the dancer again.
He did not stand, but nodded a curt greeting.
As usual she looked tired, but well put together in the morning, her dress smooth, her curls perfectly coiffed and halfway pinned up into a mass at the back of her neck. She smiled at everyone—even him—and seated herself at the other head of the table in an eloquent fashion, straight across from Zuko, with Iroh and Pakku on either side of her.
"I trust you all slept well?"
The morning banter went on as usual and Zuko's gaze flinted out the window, bored and unattached from the conversation began to wonder how he was going to waste today. Not much to do in the countryside . . . and the last thing I want is to spend more time with her. But, he sighed. Her manners are still appalling so I guess I have to.
"Really now, why must a young woman lower herself so to wear that?"
Zuko eyes shot up to find Iroh and Pakku in a heated discussion over woman's clothes in this country—more specifically, Katara's—and Pakku looked obviously outraged and offended.
"It's not right for an unmarried woman to bare so much skin before so many men," he looked to Katara. "No offense to you Mistress."
"Of course," Katara scoffed, the words brittle in her mouth. "But, this is not the South Pole, Master Pakku. I can't very well walk around in a tiger-seal hide coat with wolf-fox fur trim. I'll die of a heat stroke."
Zuko didn't see anything wrong with the dress the little dancer was wearing. It was sheer, made out of silk and was a dazzling shade of crimson. Also, the fact that it was made by his royal dress makers played a big factor in how the dress was sanction. He decided to put his two cents in on the subject. "It appropriate for our culture." He answered simply, hoping it be enough and he could just eat his food.
Obviously, Pakku wouldn't give up so early seeing as though he decided to speak.
"Does your country have no bonds of modesty for its women?"
Zuko's golden eyes flickered upward. "We do, in fact. For the queen. As for peasants, slaves and dancers, no. The dress is fine, sit down." Katara rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, Zuko was about to comment before the man growled.
"You disrespect your ancestors, boy. And cover yourself. It is disgraceful to be in such a manner before a lady."
Zuko was ready to retort that it was common for men to not wear shirts this early in the morning but Katara and Iroh shot him matching looks of disapproval that made the words die in his throat. Katara smiled at Pakku broadly and waved him down to sit beside her.
"Sit, Master Pakku, you have to try this tea Lord Iroh got from the South Pole, its lovely." She poured him a glass and urged him to drink, making small talk and drawling his attention away from the conversation.
Pakku seemed to calm and murmured apologizes to her for his unseemly outburst.
. . . Who was royalty here again?
Katara was struggling to move the water around her body. It shook in the air and fell in large splats down onto the stone ground. Her arms shook with effort and raised her arms higher; trying to move it downward into a graceful sweeping motion like Master Pakku had demonstrated and left her to twenty minutes ago.
She cursed under her breath and began to move her arms in a circular motion around her head. Forcing the water to move with her as it struggled and fought against the moves Katara demanded of it.
"Still watching her, Prince Zuko?" The young monarch whirled around to find his uncle standing behind him.
"I—" Iroh snickered softly and put a finger to his lips and drew him out of sight of the window and into the shadowy torchlight of the room. Iroh raised a brow at the dimmed lights and Zuko grumbled, "I didn't want to be seen."
"Very well," Iroh mused and paused when he heard the girl's enraged shriek. "How is she doing really?"
"Terrible."
"Help her then."
"What?"
"She needs help mastering this, my Prince, you must help her. You two are in this together."
"We all are." Zuko snarled sternly and his uncle simply bobbed his head in regards.
"But, I can't always be there; like I said the trouble with the southern border . . . I should be expecting to be called to duty at any given time. I need you to be prepared to rely on her to do her job."
Iroh disappeared through his open door again and his quiet walk shuffled down the flagstone hall to his chambers. Zuko wanted to yell in retaliation, but of course the man was right. He had to work on their 'trust' issue, bond, agreement. Still he'd like this all just to be over and done with but he figured this was just as well.
He needed to learn to talk to people he didn't like anyway.
As the night ebbed on, Zuko remained in his shadowy hideaway until she went to sleep.
The third night, he watched from the opening leading down into the kitchen, having first to walk through the slave's quarters to get there, it was well worth the odd looks and gap mouth stares. If his gaze lingered on them too long could see the disobedient slaves cut out tongues, turning their mouths into black pits outlined by yellowed and decayed teeth. He more often than not, tried to divert his gaze from their hideousness. He ordered them all to sleep and not to speak a word of him being there—in woe of the contradictions.
He found Katara as she was the night before, standing in front of two large jugs full of dish water with Master Pakku. From the faint lights coming from the open side door, he could see the man's displeased expression and the girl's soaked skirts.
"An Earthbender roots to the ground, an Airbender moves with the breeze, and Firebenders fuel with their rage. A Waterbender has to move with the element. Move like water. Feel it, hold it, command it." Pakku stated before walking back into the torch lit house.
The girl sighed again and looked back to the water spilled across the stones.
She positioned her hands and started to lift—Zuko would give her that, she never gave up—and the water gathered pouring upward and hovering above the ground. Once formed into an orb she tried to move it higher, the muscles in her arms clenching tightly like coils, and the water fell back across the ground.
She growled.
"You're too stiff." He called down, taking her off-guard, making her jump. She wheeled around to glare at him and he simply repeated. "You're too stiff. If you keep up like that you're going to wear yourself out."
Her hands fell to her hips and her shoulders squared. Now Zuko almost rolled his eyes.
"So it is indeed not going well."
"Indeed." She nodded, her full lips tightening into a thin line and her jaw clenching ever so slightly.
"What are your thoughts on the matter?" Zuko inquired, recalling that they were supposed to share these things with each other.
"Nothing," She seemed to dismiss him, hands falling away from her waist and turning her back to him to return to her 'training' attempts.
"Katara,"
The second time he said her foreign name, he sounded like he was pleading.
She looked at him, surprised to say the least.
"Tell me, complain if you dare, but you have to share these things with me." Zuko made a gesture that almost looked like he was summoning fire, but caught the resistance in her eyes. "Now. Talk." He commanded and her eyes narrowed.
"Don't say my name."
"Really, than what shall I call you?" He challenged.
She looked at a loss for a moment and sighed. "Just don't say it; every time you do it's just too strange. It's probably your accent, but it sounds fine when Iroh says it." His eye twitched.
Alright, enough stalling.
"Tell me what's wrong, now." He quipped. "I can't help you if you don't tell me."
Alright, now she looked shocked. Wonderful.
"You're . . . gonna help me?" She pointed between him and her and Zuko clenched his teeth and counted back from ten.
"Yesss," he hissed happily. "I am more than prepared to help you."
His words were dripped in poison and he hoped she knew it.
"Iroh put you up to this, didn't—?"
"Shut up! Just tell me what you need help with so we can get this over with!" He snarled, flames dancing behind his eyes.
She didn't even flinch.
"Alright," she nodded and looked disdainfully down at the soggy sand covered ground. "This is hopeless, I won't be able to master water, let alone ice in a week." Which was true, it was nearly impossible for anyone to master any technique in such a short amount of time, especially under pressure. Zuko would have to find a way to contradict that statistic because, damnit all, they were running out of time.
"I see," Running a finger brazenly over his lower lip, he called to memory the few Waterbending he'd actually seen in his lifetime, it was a bit like Firebending, actually. The movements were fluid, graceful and dance-like in their own odd way.
Hmm, He glanced up at the girl, her body lithe and muscled from a near lifetime of dancing lessons and performances under her belt. Dance-like.
"Try dancing." Katara gave him a look. "Just do it."
"Dance? You want me to dance?"
"Dance," he restated. "And move the water."
"Alright,"
Katara moved fluently, curling her wrist the water rose from the ground and shaped into a perfect sphere. She continued moving, dancing, the water morphed into a snake-like shape curled around her body. When her arms snapped forward, it collided into the wall.
"I did it . . ." she whispered almost to herself in utter awe, her blue eyes wide and adoring with triumph. "I did it." She repeated, staring at the water trickling down the wall and then her hands. "I finally . . ." She seemed to pause in her moment of awe and glanced at him.
Zuko nearly jumped back when a slow, small smile spread across her lips. "Thank you."
He said nothing.
She took off in a fury of dramatic movement, throwing water at every dry object in the garden, taking the time to aim and then shot forward in a jolt, smiling stretching across her face, and laughing as she did so, spinning around launching attacks from everywhere. The water hung heavily in the air around her, mingling on her dark skin and dampening her curled locks that swung around her and tumbled heavily down her back.
Beautiful . . . Zuko mused with a raised brow and watched as she moved the water around her, dance-like and poise with a refine mesmeric quality to her movements.
She was a natural.
At breakfast the next morning Master Pakku was happy to report that Katara was improving rapidly. Iroh smiled, acting like he hadn't the clue as to why.
"That's wonderful, Pakku. Isn't it Zuko?"
Zuko nodded and kept his eyes trained on his plate as the conversation picked up around him and breakfast dragged on. Once or twice he let his graze rise up across the table to her. Her hair was free down her shoulders in loose ringlets that bounced and waved whilst she moved, laughed, or chatted with Pakku and then switched to Iroh.
Her blue eyes were alight with life and joy . . .
He stopped himself. She's getting too cushy, he snapped his fingers, summoning the slaves to clear the table. Pakku and Iroh withhold their food and have it brought into a private room for them to finish.
"Mistress Katara will you be joining us?" Pakku asked politely.
Katara looked to her plate and then to Zuko who shook his head. "No," she answered efficiently. "I have to speak with the Prince for awhile, don't wait for me."
Pakku glanced between the two, rose and exited the dining area with a slave trailing after him with his plate. Iroh cast a glance over his shoulder and waved gently. "Tell her everything we talked about." Zuko nodded and the doors on all sides of them shut.
They were completely alone.
"So," she started softly. "What is the plan for Ozai exactly?"
"You kill Ozai."
"Oh, alright. So: 'hello your highness, nice to meet you. Die!"
Zuko kept his face perfectly neutral. "You kill him, when I say so. I'll tell you face-to-face, so if you get a letter saying to kill Ozai, don't. Report the letter."
"A letter?"
"It was the last attempts. Everyone wants to see my father dead, it doesn't matter who does it as long as it's done."
"Very well," she nodded, but Zuko caught the slip up.
The slight line in her forehead caused by her left brow.
"You're doing the right thing." He assured but didn't quite know why.
She gave a weak, blasé smile and added a seductive curl to her voice all the while batting her heavily fringed lashes. She leaned forward against the table, leeringly and smiled wider. "Of course, Your Majesty."
Ngh, this chapter sucks and I know it too.
Tell me if you want me to add anything to future chapters to prevent chapter-suck. Or if anyone's up for being a Beta, that's wonderful!
I just really wanted to get it out there because I want the sotry to flow fast and, yes, they'll be going to the palace next chapter!
Tell me, how do you feel about JET showing up to stir up some hell? I'm not telling you how he'll show up, but he will.
Rant Reason this Took So long: I hate most tourist, especially the ones who can't seem to operate a freakin' turn-signal. But I love my job. I love my job. I love seeing the guests at the hotel and smiling at the little kids and running the breakfast buffet and running the mini golf booth and being hit on by an out of town cowboy cutie (nothings better than a blonde southern Illinios boy, trust me) and the adorable NFL worthy boy I work with. I threw a paper ball at him today and demanded that he speaks more cause damn he's got some pretty eyes. I'm single and I'm enjoying it. Damn supposed 'boyfriend' (asked me out then started calling me his girlfriend which I hated) never called me back about our date so I'm footloose and learned my lesson about freshmen boys.
Re-Rant: And another thing! I still have that unholsome attraction to hot-jerks (including my problems with staring at said hot-jerks). *head desk* To said hot-jerk: Get out of my head! Stop showing up in my dreams and looking at me that way. Are you impared! ? *head desk, again* I think its a problem that I checked out his FaceBook page . . . and drove around his side of town . . . and keep thinking about the time I called him pathetic and a number of other things and the look on his face as an after result. I could tell you stories abou this guy. Damn you! Go back to your freakin' bottle blonde/cheerleader/amazingly skinny/cookie cutter girlfriend.
Too many freakin' warring emotions, will channel this into writing and save myself a broken heart.
Review me, tell me if you have a question! Reviews make me update faster! I must have at least ten!
~QueenVamp