Just a quick note, this is my first story ever, I'm learning from experience, so any review would be appreciated, as long as it's constructive. thankyuu!
Zuko POV
In my dream, I'm nine years old. My mother is offering me a cup of tea. "Here, my dear, try this. Your uncle has concocted a special tea, just for my precious boy." I took the tiny cup and took a small sip, then another. It was the most wonderful tea I had ever tasted, very much like jasmine cake, or mango, but it also tasted like everything good in my life. My mother's singing. Ember Island. Our turtle-duck inhabited pond. Home.
"Oh mummy, this is the best tea I have ever had." She laughed softly while I finished the cup off, struggling to get the last dregs at the bottom. It was gone all too soon.
"May I have some more, mummy?" Her laugh filled the air once more, but soon gave way to Azula's harsh cackling. I looked at my mother's face, but I couldn't focus on it. I strained to see her, but to no avail. Azula creeps up behind me, her maleficent sneer stretched across her face.
She threw the teapot to the ground, then heated it to steam, ruining any chance of getting a second cup of the delicious brew.
"No, no, no, no, no..." I fall to my knees as the heavenly smell dissipates and is replaced with a smell close to burnt hair. I bury my face in my hands and cry. I hear my mother's voice cry out, "Don't lose the tea, Zuko, don't lose the tea." I look down into the turtle duck pond, and there is my mother's face.
"Don't lose the tea, Zuko, don't lose the tea." On and on she went, her cries becoming gradually more desperate. The turtle-ducks swam in the murky water, slowly grinning with my father's face, and laughing with my father's laugh.
"Don't lose her, Zuko, Don't lose her." I could see Azula's eyes glinting in the corner of my eye, and I felt like I was being hunted. "Lose who?!" I yelled, frustrated.
"Don't lose your Mizu no seishin..."
Three sharp taps shattered my nightmare. I laid there, my heart pounding, as the rapid knocks continued in quick succession. "Wake up, Zu-Zu!" Azula's shrill voice called. "It's only twenty minutes till we meet with father, and since General Xjiang has returned from his raid of the South, it should be interesting." I sat up slowly, my shirt clinging to my back with sweat. I've always been an early riser, but Azula's waking hours were simply not human. I mused over how horribly well that fit for a description of Azula. Not human.
I was about to call for my assistant, Peng, when Azula startled me again. "I don't think you'll have time to wait for someone to dress you, unless you want to experience dad's wrath again."
"Don't you have anything better to do than bother me, little sister?" I scowled towards the door. She paused, and I relished the small victory. She hated that she was younger than me. "Let's not forget, brother dear," she said snappily, "age and skill are two different things." I listened as her punctuated footsteps fade away.
As I hurriedly dressed, I tried to remember my dream. Many of the details, so intense moments ago, had already dulled from my memory. Jogging down the hallway, I thought over the last part my mother had spoken about. Mizu no seishin? It sounded like the traditional language of the Sun Warriors, one I took traditional language classes, but I paid more attention to the dust floating in the air than that Professor, Professor Laoten. I decided I would ask him what it meant the next time I had a lesson.
As I entered the Throne Room, I saw only half of the important political and military figures who show up every morning to consult, or rather, listen to the Fire Lord had arrived yet, and I realized that I hadn't needed to hurry. As I composed myself, I walked up to my father's feet and bowed down, my forehead lightly touching the cool ground until my father dismissed me. Everyone had to do this if they were to be in the same room with my father, and there was even a boy who would wipe the floor after a certain amount of foreheads had pressed into the ground. On the seemingly endless meets with my father as a child, I had figured out that number was eight. That was when my mother was still around. My stomach twisted into a knot when I thought about her and the nightmare's remnants still clouding my mind. I took my seat by Azula, right before my father's throne.
After the last councilman, an absolute fossil, had shakily bent and touched his wrinkled brow to the designated spot, then shuffled to his seat, my father took a moment before speaking. "General Xjiang, you may speak."
"Thank you, my Firelord." The middle-aged man appeared from the right, stepping forward to address us all. General Xjiang. Always seemingly on the verge of some breakdown, the only reason my father keeps him in such a high position is because he is a killer at heart.
"It is so refreshing to return to our wonderful nation once more after my long and trying journey to the Southern Water Tribe." He paused as if to seem wearied by the mere thought of his vacation pretending to be work. It was easy work to make those Water Tribe peasants submit and everyone in the room knew it.
He continued with his speech, "As a sign of my devotion to our wonderful Firelord, I brought back the women and children, as they posed no threat. They seemed to be Strong, healthy individuals, so I brought them here for service for the royal palace. WATER they good for otherwise!" He said off to no one in particular; a try for a laugh, but he was in bad company if laughing was the goal. Embarrassment plagued his face as he cleared his throat and spoke again, "There are eight women and four children, under the age of 15. I hope they can be of use to you, my Lord." He bowed, then walked to his original seat, covering his face with his hands at his stupidity and cracking under the pressure in such a pathetic manner.
I can't but empathize with him for a brief moment, as I had felt the same humiliation, only on a much larger scale. When Azula had burned me 'accidentally', the only reaction I got from my father was morbid fascination at the fact that a seven year old girl was able to leave the side of his son's face little more than mottled flesh and an almost blind eye.
My sudden pity for the man quickly ended when the soft padding of many feet walking together distracted me. Out from the shadows came women and children, all wearing brown, cheap kimonos. They stood side by side, and I only got a glimpse of their faces before my father turned them around to examine all looked very similar; brown hair, tan skin, blue eyes. All fearful. They appeared to be strong, as the general put, but... hollow.
I angrily castigated myself. Why am I being so sentimental? First the stupid general, and now these filthy people? As I distractedly noticed everyone leaning down, I realized my father was leaving the room, followed by all eight women. He must have decided their purposes immediately. As though twelve other women weren't enough for the man.
"Let my children decide the fate of the rest." My father tossed the comment over his shoulder before leaving through the right door, the one that leads to his room.
Azula and I looked at each other. She scoffed at my questioning look. "I don't want them. I have a perfectly good staff. If you want a couple of dirty kids, be my guest." She stood up to leave, and everyone bowed once more.
I turned to the general, who seemed rather miffed at the effect his gift had. "What will happen to them?" I gesture toward the children, some crying to see their mothers go. The oldest girl was trying to console them, although she looked like she might start crying herself.
The general huffed. "Well, my Prince, they will be sent to wherever they can go. Most likely an orphanage or workhouse." I was a prince, but I knew from the stories and threats from Azula, how awful an orphanage could be.
I called to the oldest girl. "Peasant. Round up these children and follow me." She turned away from the child clinging to her skirt, and locked eyes with me for just a second, before looking down at the children and somehow managing to have them all cling to her. It reminded me so much of baby turtle ducks swarming their mother that I couldn't help but laugh. The girl glared at me, and the children started crying again.
Why do I do this to myself?