Title: Honor: The Ties That Bind
Author: XArienX
Rating: T(PG-13) for violence, blood and adult themes.
Summary: Ten years have past since the Avatar and Fire Lord met in battle and since then radical changes have shaken the very foundations of the Avatar world. Aang and his friends find themselves caught in this endless web of love, lust, politics and betrayal, whose end shall conclude the history books of a tumultuous era.
A Beginning's End: Introduction Part 3
Aang's eyes shot open, seeing his own reflection within the pupils of a bewildered Ozai.
"What? You're dead! I killed you!" an incredulous Fire Lord bellowed unable to react in his utter shock.
Aang shoved the Fire Lord back with such strength that the Fire bender crashed into the wall behind him and caused the iron to buckle. Slowly approaching his broken opponent, Aang saw the man as if he were in a bloody haze, a halo of crimson about his body.
For a moment there were even two Ozais, the physical tangible one, and a pale silvery shadow overlapping him. In another time, another place, Aang would have thought about this curiosity but currently all his body and mind could feel was contemptuous power; a madness that would only be sated by the death of the man before him.
In one quick motion, the Avatar pierced his hand straight into the Fire Lord's chest, searching for the heart of a monster. When his fingers came into contact with the pulsing organ, he ripped it from its master's chest.
Ozai's face contorted in pain as his body spasimed. His blood-shot eyes began to bleed ruby tears, the pressure within his body gone. For a few seconds everything seemed to freeze, putting light on a frenzied killer and a breathless corpse. Their gazes connected, glowing orbs meeting dying flames. Ozai opened his mouth, as if to utter some final eulogy; all that came to his lips was a bubble of blood. His legs then gave out and he crumpled to the floor.
Aang remained immovable; his sight glued to the dead man's body which had once contained the limp heart in his hand. It was a sick and pitiful sight, one that Aang even in his right mind, would forever choose to forget. Casting the heart aside, much as he had done with his own feelings and aspirations, Aang turned to leave. He would miss, however, an unmistakable leer on the fallen ruler's face. A cryptic message wasted on an empty room.
A still spiritually infused Avatar flung the tomb's locked doors open, stepping forth into the deserted halls. If anyone had found themselves unfortunate enough to have crossed his path, they probably wouldn't be able to share their story's end.
All around him, as if symbolizing the end of a regime, brilliant banners boasting flaming symbols fell askew, subjects to their own woven symbol. It seemed the inhabitants of the palace had fled; the nobles and aristocrats untrusting of their own soldier to protect the palace gate. Their suspicions had come true but at the cost of yellow-bellied fear.
Faint glows illuminated distant corridors and the smell of smoke lay heavily in the air. Death and destruction hung all about, forming a ballad that somewhat sadly ushered out one era for the next. Such are many changes in power full of bloodshed and inhumanity. Aang had fruitlessly hoped that this life could somehow be different; somehow set a better example then those in the past. It was but a lofty goal marked by the remnants of childish naivety. His victory had been baptized in blood.
Finally striding through the ajar doors of once magnificent copper gates, Aang stood at what seemed the pinnacle of height above still clashing warriors. The carnage was gruesome, but each man tirelessly fought over the bodies of fallen comrades and enemies to what they thought was an unforeseeable end. It was later said that if neither leader had been able to drag himself from victory, that the soldiers would have fought until their last man died at the point of his own blade. There would be no end until all were dead or their savior returned.
As hectic as the battle was, one sideward glance managed to spot the carefully descending and illuminated Avatar on the palace steps. The man had too blink and rub his eyes before he could begin to register what he saw. Immediately stopping, even on the battle field, the soldier pointed and yelled over the calamity.
"It's the Avatar!" he hollered; the pause costing him his life as another man's spear ran him through. The effect, however, was not lost. Like the ripple created by a pebble hitting the water, the people around the dead man similarly turned, causing those around them to in a continuously growing fashion. Some mythological story would describe how weapons were dropped; faces began to smile and tear, others looking fearful. The fighting sluggishly ended, all eyes fixed upon the staggering boy.
A long pause resounded through the crumbling city, the silence before the storm. To the relief of all a cheer broke the tension like a roaring thunder rising up from the voices of an indiscernible people. Rebels hugged and cried while the Fire benders wearily looked down, unable to accept the outcome of their war.
Aang reached the bottom of the stairs, becoming equal to the military crowd. He felt the Avatar spirit release his body, enabling him to look upon the battered men and women with a slow smile, as a father does to child of whom he is proud of. His vision was fuzzy but he could make out most of their faces with much joy, some of them full of color, others a translucent silver.
Then as quickly as he had become empowered, Aang felt an immense fatigue wash over him. Fear gripped his heart as he dreaded the possibility of death being once again laid before him. No, it wasn't death that scared him anymore. Confronting the growing dread inside him did. The possibility of never again lying eyes onto the face or hearing the voice of his savoir would make death's eternity all the crueler.
Aang's knees buckled and the crowd gasped. He was screaming, unsure whether it was in his head or in reality. The spirits had dealt him a cruel hand of fate, one which hurt more profoundly than any of his wounds. They sent him back believing that he could live, could survive. His second chance at destiny had saved the world, but now the spirits pulled back on his puppet strings, denying anything more. Aang was grateful and yet spiteful. He had done everything that needed to be done, so what more did he want? Why couldn't his significance be more important? The devestated boy could only wish that the cosmos had some other worldly plan for him so maybe he could remain on earth a little longer…at least so he could see that face one last time.
His body crumpled and he began to fall forward. Somewhere from the clustered ranks, a bloodied and shaken young girl burst from the on-lookers and sprinted to catch him before he fell.
"Aang! Oh Aang, I found you!" The bronze skinned girl cried, holding the young monk's face to her chest. "You did it! You saved the world Aang! You're a hero!" She wept, stroking the top of his head. Refusing to accept the obvious condition her friend was in, the girl continued to coddle him with praise and tender words.
"Just think Aang! We can start over now, we can all go home. You can live with us and we can even ride the penguins every day…Aang. We can finally be happy. We're free."
Ever so cautiously she laid him on his back, taking extra care to avoid paining any one of his numerous injuries, the sight of which made her cringe.
"Don't worry Aang, I'll take care of you. I promise." Her voice whispered calmly, covering him in a warm blanket of comfort. It gave Aang the strength to finally look at her. Gazing into her big blue eyes, he realized that his vision wasn't doing her justice, that the girl before him deserved a more honorable depiction. His savior, his muse, just wasn't the same. Neither her battered appearance nor currently flawed tawny skin had anything to do with it; Aang was not that shallow. This difference was something beyond physical limitations, yet evading clear recognition. There was no ghost-like silvery form about her but something was defiantly different, something that dampened this last glorious moment. When the world grew dark and her face farther and farther away, all Aang would have was a memory to take with him, for when he woke, the world from his left eye would never look the same.
Well there is the end to my introduction! Please read, enjoy, and if you find the time, review.
New Chapter coming soon!
(Will write more when she knows what she is doing XD)
Arien