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Of Names
He was a little boy, and it had been a few months now since he had turned three. Sometimes he didn't understand much of what was happening around him, most of the adults' words felt foreign and strange to his ears, for he didn't have such a developed vocabulary. He understood there were things that made him happy, like feeding the turtleducks with his mom; and things that made him sad, like when dad and mom fought over the trees. And though he didn't understand love, he knew he felt it. Towards his mom, his dad, his sister, his uncle, and his older cousin. He loved them and he knew they loved him back. He also knew it was all he needed to understand; his mom had told him so.
"Come son," his mother called to him gently. She was standing at the entrance to his chamber, smiling tenderly at him. "Your sister has been in an awful mood lately. And sometimes I think you are the only one who can calm her down." His mother grinned at him, and he grinned back, standing up from his bed.
The little boy took his mother hand, which he found warm and safe, and followed her throughout the Palace's corridors, glancing curiously at his surroundings. He didn't know any of the people that passed by them, they all looked so busy and hurried. It didn't fit in his child's mind that they were not of his social class, or that there was a thing such as social class at all.
They finally reached the door that led to his sister's chamber. Her mother opened it softly, almost soundlessly, in fear of waking up her possibly-sleeping younger child. The girl was clearly not in peaceful slumber, though. She was screaming and crying in a way that made it hard to believe she was no more than a one and a half years old baby. The little boy covered his ears, trying vainly to block the terrible sounds coming from the youngest child. He glanced at his mother, who towered over him, rubbing her temples with her index fingers in an attempt to calm herself and stop a possible headache. She nodded at him.
Carefully, the boy made his way across the large room that belonged to her sister. The two old women who stood by the cradle nodded at his mother, and she nodded back. One of them ruffled the little boy's head with her hand as she walked out of the room, beaming at him, and causing him to giggle. The other woman directed him a cold look and walked away, not glancing back. The little boy paid not attention to this, for he was used to that treatment from the weird old lady. He placed both of his hand on the cradle's rail, tiptoed, and took a peek at his sister. His mere presence silenced her.
"Hi, Azula. It's me, your older brother. Remember me?" The little boy asked, smiling warmly at his younger sister. She giggled in response, causing the boy's smile to grow wider. "Do you remember my name?" He asked her, expectantly. The little girl tilted her head, unsure of what the older boy was saying. "You don't," he said with disappointment.
Her mother moved to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. "Don't let it discourage you, son. I'm sure if you try just once more..." He nodded enthusiastically at her, and turned back to his sister, his resolve strengthened.
"Ok, Azula, repeat after me. Zuko. Zuuuuuuuuuuko. Can you say that?" He looked at his sister eagerly. She tilted her head once more, not sure of what was expected from her. "Zuuuuuuuuuuukoooooooooooo," He repeated, making exaggerated mouth movements. But he only kept getting giggles from the younger girl. "Come on! It's easy. Just say it. Zuuuuukooo."
"Zzzzzzzpft" The girl blurted out, giggling. The boy smiled victoriously.
"Almost! Zuuuko." The little boy repeated, now confident.
"Zzzuuuuu," The girl tried, her eyes narrowing slightly. The boy looked exuberant.
"That's it! Go on!" The boy encouraged her.
"Zuuu…" The girl repeated, concentrating
"You've almost got it! Kooooh."
"Zuuu…" She started.
"Kooooooooooh" He repeated, slightly flustered.
"ZUZU!" The girl suddenly yelled out, beaming, and startling her older brother. The young prince stared at her, his bow frowned in confusion
"That is not my name," He told the girl sternly, while she repeated her new word over and over. "Stop it!" But the girl took no notice of him, and continued to repeat what she assumed was her brother's name. The boy, flushed, turned to his mother. "Mom," He asked her, pleadingly.
"Aw, son, don't worry. It's just a little nickname." His mother said, happy now that the girl had been quieted.
The young prince crossed his arms, upset. "Well, I don't like it," he stated.
And never would. That he understood.