Prologue .02: Fire Nation (1st Year of Zuko, Late Summer)

[Denique non omnes eadem mirantur amantque.]
(All men do not admire and love the same things.)
- Horace

'I should have known better…' The Avatar's return, the Fire Nation's defeat… no, not defeat; a surrender. And because of that…

Mai jerked her head to one side, closing her eyes against the bitterness that darkened her reminisce. It had only been a year ago, less even, when she had held Zuko's hand, watching the noisy, giddy celebration of the Avatar and his gang in Iroh's teashop in newly-liberated Ba Sing Se. She had even relaxed enough to chat and trade jokes with former enemies, now allies by default, thanks to her relationship with Zuko. Zuko, the formerly exiled prince, who had scoured the world for the Avatar, seeking his father's approval under the guise of reclaiming his "honor." Zuko, the turncoat, who had betrayed his country, betrayed her, for the sake of a cause she had not believed in, a cause she only accepted because of him.

Zuko, her first love, the new Fire Lord.

Mai could admit to herself, here, now, that she had been a little jealous then, seeing the way Zuko seemed so at ease, so playful with the smart-mouthed earthbender, the Avatar's girlfriend, her strange brother, the Kyoshi Warrior; nothing at all like he had been after siding with Azula in the caverns beneath Ba Sing Se. That time, Mai had gotten what she wanted, or assumed she had: Zuko, after some prodding, admitted to his own secret childhood crush, and they quickly went about making up for lost time.

'And the only reason we did … could do anything about was because Azula wanted to use us,' Mai interjected. 'Too bad she never counted on how unhappy Zuko was after Ba Sing Se…'

It helped to blame Azula. Mai could go further, blaming it on Ozai, the back-stabbing politics of nobles in the Court, the war. But every once and a while, especially in the days following the discovery of that wretched scroll on her bed, she had wondered if she had been a source of unhappiness as well.

Zuko had done everything in his power since then to reassure her how wrong she was, how blameless. But that was the problem; even the Fire Lord's power had its limits.

That much became clear the day they cut their idyllic "victory holiday" short, fleeing Ba Sing Se as riots between displaced refugees and the different factions jockeying for power in the wake of the Dai Li's fall from grace exploded under the broiling late summer sun. The Avatar had moved quickly into the role of mediator, and Iroh had sent his nephew and Mai post-haste back to the Fire Nation under White Lotus Society protection.

It was only later that Mai would learn of the assassination plots against Zuko, engineered by various groups in the city with every reason to seek vengeance against the ultimate symbol of the nation that had rampaged through their country for a century. Zuko would never tell her how close it had been, but given the way his lips thinned and his fists clenched whenever she brought it up, it must have been close indeed.

Escaping the Earth Kingdom had been tense enough, but they had, in essence, jumped from the cliff's edge into the vipers' nest. Zuko arrived in the capital just in time to head off a serious challenge to his throne from one of Ozai's old generals. Thankfully, the Royal Guard had proved ruthlessly loyal. Within days, the troublemaker was thrown into the Iron Tower, never to be seen or heard from again; it was widely rumored that the Captain of the Guard, disposing of all legal niceties, had outright executed the man. Supporters of the failed coup vanished into the shadows, or fell over themselves to reconfirm their allegiance to Fire Lord Zuko.

And it had not ended there. Mai grimaced, clasping her folded hands together under the flowing sleeves of her horrid white robe. No sooner than the coup had fizzled out, word came of armies on the Continent still fighting because communications had broken down and news of the war's end had yet to reach the farthest edges of the Fire Nation's still-expanding empire. The Avatar imposed a temporary peace on the chaos of Ba Sing Se, but it soon became apparent that a new Earth King had to assume the throne or the Kingdom would tear itself apart. Without any firm plan, the Avatar went off in search of someone capable of taking the crown abandoned by Kuei.

Farther south, Earth Kingdom refugees returning to their homes fought to reestablish claims usurped by Fire Nation settlers. Sometimes, they were satisfied just chasing off the newcomers, but more often, there were scores to settle, lost sons and daughters, murdered relatives, and other atrocities to avenge. Fire Army soldiers could not simply stand by and let their fellow countrymen be massacred, but some commanders were not as judicious in their tactics as others.

The Army was fragmenting, tearing itself apart as senior officers who had become warlords in all but name surveyed the vast territories of the Continent with the eyes of personal ambition. Whole regiments of the once-invincible divisions vanished piecemeal into the wilderness as soldiers simply walked away, seeking a new life on the Continent, or made for the coast, yearning for the homeland many had not seen in years. Fire Nation colonial governors, holed up in their various mansions, sent scroll after scroll to the Palace, demanding that the Fire Lord hand over control of military units in their territories in order to defend their holdings, and hinting at the possibility of secession should Zuko prove hesitant.

Faced with threats from all sides, from the farthest reaches of the Continent to the halls of the Palace itself, Zuko shouldered the burden of rule and charged headlong into a battle far more dangerous than any he had fought in the war.

And Mai could not help him. Oh, she could be there when he had a moment to spare, to provide a lap to rest his head on, an ear to listen to what troubles he deigned to share with her, but all too soon, the world would demand his attention, and he would be swept away into dark rooms and whispered conferences in which she had no part. The only experience she had of politics were from her parents, useless socialites that they were, or secondhand by way of Azula.

In the case of the latter, Mai could not think of a single worse instructor in the ways of governance, least of all for the type of rule Zuko so desperately wanted for his country.

It had been with a tinge of resentment that Mai stood beside Zuko, welcoming his Uncle Iroh back to the Palace, mere months after their flight from Ba Sing Se. The old man had resigned himself to coming out of retirement, closing his tea shop and sending word ahead to his nephew. Zuko had been so overjoyed, so relieved, as if his uncle were some magic talisman that could keep the danger away. And, at first, Iroh proved to be just that, skillfully building up a network of former comrades and allies, rallying them to Zuko's banner and quieting the dark mutters of unsatisfied nobles (or, at least, forcing them to whisper). But even the Dragon of the West was a mere man, and soon outer islands, power bases removed from the capital, began to stir with the echoes of secession that were growing louder on the Continent.

Mai hated feeling helpless, hated the way it made her wrists itch with the memory of the iron manacles that had weighted her down in the bowels of the Boiling Rock after her one display of outright defiance in the face of Azula's madness. She had done it for Zuko, but that one sacrifice was simply that: a single event, a temporary saving grace, and now the world cruelly demanded things she could not give because she did not know how.

And then…

A muted gong! shook Mai out of her reminiscence. Glancing up, she saw the Fire Sage looking back at her through the sweet-scented smoke of the ceremonial pyre. The elderly man motioned her forward, his kind face all the more irritating for the sad, sympathetic smile he gave her. Mai climbed the wide, shallow steps, trying to ignore the whispers behind her, knowing that everyone was staring at her back, watching like raven-eagles for her to break down, to show weakness. At the top of the steps, she halted, the shifting heat of the flames pressing into her through the thick cloth of her robe.

"The names shall be entered into the annals," the Fire Sage intoned as a young acolyte, dressed in a white robe of simpler design than Mai's, shuffled over to the girl, presenting an open ledger, a calligraphy brush, and a hollowed out disk of basalt containing black ink on a wide tablet.

Without a word, Mai took the brush and dipped it full into the ink. Gathering back her sleeve, she scrawled her father's name between the first two red lines, followed by her mother's, then her brother's, before placing the brush on the tablet. The acolyte bowed his head over the book and backed away.

"We now commit their effigies to the flame, that their spirits need no longer wander in vain," announced the Fire Sage, turning back to the raised platform behind him. Mai forced herself to keep her eyes on his hands as the sage raised three hand-sized planks of cypress, marked with the same names she had just inscribed in the book, high over the flames. "We lay you to rest, Nianzu of the noble house of Sun, governor of New Ozai and loyal servant of our nation."

Her father's plank fell into the fire, out of sight below the lip of the hollow block of stone that contained the pyre, the flames leaping as they devoured the effigy.

"We lay you to rest, Yuming of the noble house of Sun, wife of Nianzu and mother of Tom-Tom, now passed, and Mai."

Her mother followed her father.

"We lay you to rest, Tom-Tom of the noble house of Sun, son of Nianzu and Yuming, now passed, and brother of Mai. May you be with your beloved parents from this day hence."

Tom-Tom's effigy bounced against the stone lip, jumping out of the fire and clattering on the ground at Mai's feet. Shocked mutters like tall grass disturbed by a strong wind whirled around Mai as she stared at the effigy. Without a thought, she bent down and tossed the plank of ink-stained wood into the fire, turning away so she could not see the way the flames leapt. Looking down the steps, past the white-robed people who were waiting, just as she had, to enter their dead relatives' names into the annals and burn their effigies, out over the courtyard where distant relatives and other nobles milled about in festival robes, Mai felt her eyes burn from the smoke. But she could not, would not betray tears, not with this many people looking at her, not…!

A warm, familiar had slid into hers. "Let's go, Mai," Zuko said quietly, ignoring the upsurge of whispers that greeted his unheralded appearance on the funerary dais.

"Right," Mai agreed, squeezing his hand to guard against the urge to run down the steps, fleeing the hostile stares and whispers, the crackle of hungry flame, and the perfume of death offerings.

A/N: The use of effigies (also called spirit tablets/seats - ihai in the Japanese) originated in China, where the name and the characters composing it have the power to effectively represent the person's "place" in the mortal world, if not the last physical vestige of their soul.

I am referencing Japanese tradition (this time the modern Shinto) to create a scene of symbolic cremation in accordance with the funerary rituals shown in the show. The time-frame of "late summer" is meant to align the day and the festival with the Ghost Festival in Chinese tradition (normally taking place in the middle of the eighth month of the lunar calendar) – also known as Obon in Japanese Buddhist tradition, though I have dispensed with the actual practices of the celebration from our world, and substituted the "confirmation of death" ceremony in this instance instead.