A/N: One of my favorite chapters :)
Chapter Three: Pei Pei
Pei Pei simply cannot contain her excitement.
It's not just that her all lessons are cancelled for the day, but her school falls into the way of the parade, too – actually, it is the only school in the whole capitol that falls into its way. On one hand, it means that she still has to go to school, but on the other hand, she is going to see Lady Katara up close as she passes Pei Pei's school in her palanquin. And Pei Pei gets to be in the first row.
She has imagined this so many times – the Lady will be so close that she will be able to see the embroidery on the hem of her robe, count the flowers in her hair, and see her face, her expressions – is she really that happy to marry Fire Lord Zuko as it is said all around the capitol?
She has seen her once before, from the distance. She went to the market with her mother one day, early in the morning, about two months ago, and there Lady Katara was, five stalls from her – she knows; she counted it -, buying something from a Water Tribe vendor. She couldn't see her face, or hear her voice, but she looked magnificent even from that distance. She wanted to go to her, just to see her, just to wish her good morning, but her mother held her back; it would be extremely impolite, she said.
"You cannot just run up to somebody of such a high position. It's simply rude," her mother told her then, leading her away.
And now, she is going to see her again. Maybe talk to her, even.
She shivers at the pure awesomeness of the situation.
One of her teacher scolds her for fidgeting and playing with the handle of her little basket of flowers. She hardly hears her.
The students in her school are split into two groups: the ones who can sing or play an instrument well are standing in the back on the stairs leading up to the entrance of the school – according to their instructions they are supposed to start playing when the parade comes into view. Pei Pei can't understand why – the parade has its own drummers and musicians and dancers; the voices of her schoolmates will be drowned by them. In the other group there are the ones who have no such talents – just like her. They are standing in straight lines along the road – smaller girls in the front row, older ones right behind them, boys in the back -, each with baskets of flowers in their hands. They are supposed to throw the petals in front of the palanquin, covering the road with them, while the others are playing their instruments, to express the school's obeisance towards the ruling couple.
She picked her flowers herself, early in the morning; she guesses that she woke up long before anybody else in her class. She even ventured out of the city, looking for the best flowers. The soldiers at the gates weren't happy with her when she asked to be let out – extra safety measurements and all - , but when she told them why was she leaving the city, they let her go. Pei Pei even gave them some flowers when she got back to thank them.
There is a small meadow near the capitol, far from the bay, with the most beautiful flowers she has ever seen. They are especially magnificent during this part of the year – that's where she picked her flowers. She chose only the best: red and blue and white ones, with all their petals intact, their blooms only opening. She spent almost two hours on that meadow, her shoes getting wet from the dew still covering the grass.
Back at home, she wanted to dress in her best clothes – new ones, bought at one of the Water Tribe merchants, who came to the capitol not long after the war ended. It was not easy to convince her mother to buy her the blue, foreign-looking clothes, but she managed to do it in the end -, but she couldn't wear them now. Everybody in her school had to wear their uniform; nothing else was allowed. This saddened her a little, but at least there was her mother's promise to cheer her up: she told Pei Pei that after the parade they would go to the plaza to see the coronation and that she could wear her new robes there.
And anyway, no-one told her anything about what to wear in her hair – so she secured her two long, black braids with blue silk ribbons (it clashes horribly with the colors of her uniform, but she doesn't care a bit.)
She keeps fiddling with her basket, first holding it with only one hand, then switching hands, then swinging it back and forth. She can't wait the parade to begin.
Soon she hears the drums and the tsungi horns in the distance – Lady Katara has started her journey from the palace to the temple where the wedding ceremony is going to take place. Pei Pei turns to right, then to left, exchanging excited looks with the girls standing next her. Her teacher scolds her again, but it's not very effective. The line starts to loosen up, the girls are leaning in, trying to see the drummers in front of the palanquin, even thought they are still far away; excited whispers arise, but it's completely impossible to hear what they are about.
Finally, the first lines of the parade turns around the corner, and the children behind Pei Pei start to sing and the instruments come to life. They are playing on old Fire Nation folk song, just to be followed by a Water Tribe one. When they were learning them, Pei Pei wished she could sing, so she could sing with them and learn those songs. She is not sorry for it now; it's so much better standing in the front line.
Soon the palanquin, an elegant, luxurious structure carried by eight men, draped in red and gold silks comes to view. Pei Pei forgets how to breathe for a second.
She has classmates from the highest circles – girls, whose fathers are working under the hand of the Fire Lord, girls, who are always bragging about having seen Fire Lord Zuko and Lady Katara when their fathers hosted a dinner, and they invited them. They brag about having talked to them, having sang or danced to them. They brag about how beautiful Lady Katara is, how amazing it is when she smiles at you and how eager she is to take a look at their paintings and embroidery. Sometimes she thinks that they are exaggerating; then on other days, she is unbelievably jealous of them. She regrets that her father is a simple, but rich merchant, nobody important enough to host dinners worth inviting the royal couple. She is sad that all she got until now was to spot Lady Katara in the meager morning crowd on that morning on the market. But now she will be so much closer to her.
She is close enough now that Pei Pei can really see her. Lady Katara really is beautiful, clearly the most beautiful woman she has ever seen, ever more beautiful than her mother. She is sitting on her knees, her back straight, her posture regal in the palanquin. Her robes and jewels are really magnificent, but Pei Pei hardly notices them. Lady Katara really is that close that Pei Pei can see the embroidery on the hem on her outer robe and count the flowers in her hair. She can also see the kind, serene smile on her face.
She almost forgets to start throwing the petals.
The parade is almost passed by them when her fingers find something bigger in her basket than the blooms she is throwing. It's a small bouquet, tied together by Pei Pei herself, put together from the most perfect flowers she could find that morning. She felt sorry to just throw them on the road, to let them be squashed by the drummers and dancers and carriers. So she tied them together, and hid them in the bottom of her basket, wanting to give it to Lady Katara. It's a bold move, and it's possible that the guards around them will stop her, but she has to try.
She drops the basket, grabs the bouquet, and bolts towards the palanquin. Her teacher calls after her, a guard near tries to catch her, but she is small and fast; in a blink she is standing next to the palanquin.
Her heart skips a beat; Lady Katara notices her.
With a gentle wave of her hand, she stops the palanquin - the carriers freeze in one place and the drums go silent. She then looks down at Pei Pei, like a goddess from her pedestal, the Sun shining right behind her, almost blinding the little girl. Pei Pei freezes for a moment.
"My lady…" one of the guards escorting Lady Katara starts tentatively, but she silences him swiftly and just as easily as she stopped the whole parade.
"Thank you for your concerns, captain," she says, and Pei Pei is amazed at her voice; it's soft and pleasant and tinged with just the slightest accent, pressing the vowels a little bit stronger than a Fire Nation woman would, "but I don't think that a minute's stop would turn our schedule upside-down." She's not stern and only a little bit commanding. The captain bows and takes a step back. Lady Katara turns to Pei Pei and motions her to come closer. Her legs are shaking as they carry her towards the palanquin. "What's you name?" Lady Katara asks, her lips turning into a soft smile.
Pei Pei can hardly speak. Everybody is looking at her.
'I… My name… Pei Pei, your Majesty," she stutters at last – she even forgets to bow, stepping closer. She wants to tell her that she has made this bouquet just for her, but no more words leave her mouth. She only takes another step forward, her hand outstretched with the flowers in it, wanting to hand it to Lady Katara. But she is so small, and the palanquin is so high. She can hardly reach the tassels hanging from it, let alone the woman sitting on the top.
Then suddenly she is up in the air – somebody catches her from behind, lifting her up, up to the palanquin. In the next moment, she is sitting there, on the silks, face-to-face with the future Fire Lady.
She blushes, bows to Lady Katara – she finally remembers what she is supposed to do -, her forehead touching the floor of the palanquin, and then she shyly hands her the small bouquet. Lady Katara takes it, and her fingers softly graze Pei Pei's hand. "Thank you," she says, and, leaning in, presses a kiss to Pei Pei's forehead. Some people clap behind her back.
Then the moment is over, and Pei Pei is on the ground again – it was a guard, she knows now, who lifted her up to the palanquin -, and the parade moving away, the drums and the horns singing.
