8 Years in the Future
Chapter 2: The Dreams of Heroes
Part 1: While Katara Slumbered
In sleep the memories came back to her. Even now, as the majestic ruler of an entire nation, they haunted her.
The heat had consumed her to the point of almost fainting. She struggled to keep the world from blurring together and going dark. She could see him walking closer. Like a sinister shadow he seemed to slither nearer and nearer until his burning hands grabbed at her neck. She screamed from the razing touch of his flesh. He lifted her up off the ground, leaving her feet dangling in the air. Choking, she thrashed about, straining to release herself, grappling his massive limbs. But she was as futile as a butterfly against a dragon.
In her remaining consciousness he seemed to pass in and out of her vision. His mouth opened up in a revolting grin. His teeth were perfect, some even down to a point. They reflected a yellow light from the surrounding flames, and his furrowed eyes appeared like smoldering blood rubies. Underneath the throbbing pain, Katara felt a fear fierce enough to chill her veins.
"Who do you think you are?"
His voice was horrifyingly urbane. He stared into her dying ocean eyes, daring her to answer.
From the doorway, an enraged, fuming voice roared,
"Her name is Katara of the Water Tribe."
Ozai turned his head just in time to see his son barreling into him with all the force he could muster.
Katara felt herself falling to the ground, watching the massive ornate ceiling fade from view. Her head hit the metal floor and she lay limp, unable to reason or comprehend what was happening. She was awfully still as she gazed at two forms ablaze tumble and dance around one another. She watched, not aware of her still scalding skin, or her slowing breaths.
She would awaken in the dark, as the moonlight gleamed through the windows. Perspiring and breathing heavy, she'd turn to Zuko. He was awake each and every time she needed him to hold her, and always on the nights she would dream of that fateful day. His arms would tenderly wrap around her, as she slipped her hand in his. They would lie in the stillness until sleep took them once again. Nothing needed to be said. Nothing could be said. Dead seven years, Ozai still held her heart in trepidation.