I wrote this after watching the movie "Anastasia" and I absolutely loved the scene where she sees the ghosts of the court. I couldn't help but think of Zuko as I listened to the song "Once Upon a December" as he revisits some old memories. So I put my fingers to a keyboard and came out with this little piece as my debut work for the fandom. I hope you enjoy!
It had been another one of those rough nights for the fire lord. His mind was plagued with racing thoughts and past mistakes that usually he was able to suppress in the day. After tossing and turning, unable to find peace, he decided that he would deprive himself of sleep once more.
Zuko roamed the palace, the small flame in his hand being the only source of light. The halls were ominous as they were in the day, but at night it seemed to become a black abyss. He hadn't explored the entire palace since he returned- limiting himself to his room, the throne room, and the palace gardens as a way to avoid any past memories that could arise.
After walking for a few minutes, he was convinced he was lost. The halls kept winding further and further, and the more steps he took, the more unfamiliar everything became.
Zuko took a side corridor, hoping to find a short cut. Instead, he found himself in a large, cavernous room. The light of the moon filtered through the tall glass windows above, bathing the large floor in a soft blue glow. Zuko instantly recognized this place. Memories began to flood the prince's mind from when he was a child- memories of music and dance, festivities, and fun.
He had stumbled upon the palace ballroom, which once held the most elegant balls in the entire fire nation. When special holidays or festivals would come around, the royal palace would always host large dances, open only to the most elite families in the nation. Sozin was the first to start the tradition, and it was passed through the generations.
Old tapestries still hung from the banisters, covered in a thick layer of dust. Tables and chairs were pushed up haphazardly against the walls riddled in cobwebs. All that remained were the small set of thrones standing abandoned on the far wall, specifically crafted for Azulon and his family.
He could see the ghostly figure of Ozai looming in the center chair, his perturbed mother to his immediate left. He even saw his younger self, sitting proudly to his father's right, and little Azula by their mother's side. He could feel his stomach twisting in knots as he walked closer to the collection of chairs, something calling him there. Hesitantly, he climbed up the small steps, casting his glance over the well-crafted seats. He let his hands glide across the gold plated armrests where his father and his grandfather before him would rest their hands and oversee the crowd.
He swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat overcome him as he turned to take a seat in the fire lord's throne that was now his own.
As soon as he seated himself, he was transported back to one of those festive nights. The room was bathed in the warm lights of the grand chandeliers. Tables were set and servants rushed between them, serving drinks and hors d'oevres to those that beckoned them. Music was being played by a band of bards near the corner, classic fire nation chants. Zuko could see the ghosts of the affluent families, high ranking officials, and other royal relatives twirling around on the dance floor in their regal gowns and robes.
He quickly pushed himself up from the throne and turning, he saw the hard face of his father, looking right through him. His mother was by his side with a soft smile, and Azula was looking away with discontent. He stepped down from the thrones and onto the ballroom floor.
The guests bowed to him respectfully as he passed, expressing their gratitude for being invited to such an extravagant dance. Zuko glanced down at himself only to find that he was no longer wearing his night robes, but instead his fire lord robes.
The music began to pick up the pace, and he was caught in the crowd of dancers. He was swept off his feet by his uncle, who ushered him along with a warm smile before he was suddenly twirled into the arms of Azula, he looked on him with a jealous scowl. From Azula, he went on to dance with various other members of the court as well as old relatives, and friends of the family.
Zuko finally found himself in the arms of Mai. Her expression was soft, a small smile on her lips as she intertwined her fingers in his. He felt his chest tighten as he tried to lead her along in the dance, afraid to make a mistake.
As the music began to slow, Mai brought him to the center of the room. She kissed his cheek tenderly, before leaving him on the floor. The crowd parted, and his mother appeared in her exquisite ruby robes. She extending her arms to him, the warm smile he remembered as a child gracing her lips. He took them.
His mother always enjoyed the royal balls and was an expert in various dances. Zuko always hated the dancing portion mostly because it was another way for him to embarrass himself in front of a crowd. As he grew older, however, dancing slowly became easier, but he often caught himself tripping on his toes from time to time and would do everything in his power to avoid being pulled into the ring. At that point though, there were no more balls to dance for.
They swayed to the dying music, Zuko pulling his mother into an embrace. The final notes played out and the lights began to fade. As much as he tried to hold onto the figure of his mother, she seemed to dissolve with the memory. He was back in the present, in the cold, cavernous, abandoned ballroom- alone.
Zuko left the room, continuing his search back to his quarters at a much more sullen pace.