Azula darted down the hall swiftly, lightly, her form combining with the flickering torchlight to throw long, dancing shadows, continually leaping and echoing in a visual cacophony around her. It seemed as if she was storming to her father with an invisible army, ponytail streaming behind her like a black silken banner of battle that gleamed red-gold in the darkness when caught by the firelight. She moved as a dancer, an acrobat, a deadly fighter. She moved with all the grace and fluidity of her ancestors; the dragon and the phoenix, and she knew it. Though driving her on was the irritating fact that Zuko could beat her in a dead sprint, despite her superior agility.
"What the fuuu-"
Something struck the back of her leg forcefully. Legs churning, arms flailing, she was sent crashing to the cold stone. The Princess skidded across the slippery marble floor and came to a stop against the wall in a tangle of fabric, hair, and muffled curses. She automatically swept away the fine black mass strewn all over her face with one hand, lifting herself partially up with the other, and looked wildly around the passage. Nothing. Dead silence, no fat, gallumping uncle, no furious brother.
Crash! She jumped a mile. The projectile, whatever it was had missed her by a few inches, cracking the ground by her right hand. Azula looked up in genuine surprise at the high ceiling concealed by the low light. That's when they began falling in earnest. Oddly enough the P's and Q's came first, followed by the A's, the B's, the C's as if some precocious, literary-minded three year old was throwing a temper tantrum with his blocks. The high and mighty Princess of Fire could only cover her head and run blindly. Soon it progressed to words, phrases, sentences…burning golden eyes, sapphire diamonds, fire and ice mixing in a heated clash of erotic bliss, a rose by any other name, water water everywhere. Despite her frantic flight, she happened to notice one sentence in particular; and the fire siblings melted into each other, savoring the connection of loneliness born of a mother that left too soon, a power hungry father incapable of love, Fire Lord Ozai... The old saying didn't have to come crashing down onto her head knocking her senseless, she would have collapsed from revulsion anyway. Automatically the hail of words stopped, as if they had completed their task and were now rerouted to wherever they were supposed to go.
Minutes went by, and the unconscious princess slept blissfully on. Zuko, strolling by with Iroh looked in interest at the sentence currently trapping his sister. Sticks and stones may break my bones...The Prince shrugged, "That's irony for ya."
Old General Iroh stroked his beard thoughtfully, "I'm not sure if she'd be better or worse with some brain damage."
Just kidding….hehe, in her review stripedpolkadots suggested I stop Azula by dropping a sentence on her (it being my prerogative as the author). Which cracked me up hysterically and I had to write this farce. Although I would really love to give Azula some poetic justice, it just wouldn't fit with my story concept. But it felt so good to write, hoped you enjoyed it as an aside…Ahem, anyway, on with the real story………
Zuko shared one look of shock and horror with Iroh before taking off and sprinting down the corridor after his demon of a sister. He bared his teeth in a feral growl of frustration, listening to his uncle's thundering gait a pace or two behind. Dashing through a tapestry, rounding a statue of some great-great ancestor warlord, and he finally caught sight of Azula at the entrance of the War Room arguing fiercely with the guard. (Not so much arguing as hissing orders and deadly threats) Azula was rarely denied anything, especially the favor of her father. But the quaking guard was saved a display of lightening by the appearance of Zuko and Iroh. Azula and the man turned in surprise to the winded old general and a glaring prince at the far end of the hall. The Fire Princess, ever quick to an advantage, gave her brother a slight smirk before slipping under the arm of the startled guard and into the room.
"Damnit, c'mon uncle."
Iroh stood panting with his hands on his knees beside. "Can we wait just a moment, quite a sprint…" he trailed off at Zuko's answering glare, and heaved another laborious sigh before following his nephew.
They pushed passed the bamboozled guard, through the crimson fabric shielding the doorway, and entered his father's, Fire Lord Ozai's domain. Beyond the fluttering red silk lay a room similar in style to the rest of the Palace; immense and imposing, with high ceilings, marble floor and engraved columns lining the room. Yet this room had lost something. The rest of the Palace, the very stone itself spoke of ancient dynasties and long-forgotten lore, the vibrations and energies of fire and the proud beings who wielded it. All the grandeur of noble ancestry, rich with history and stories displayed proudly and passionately. This chamber seemed like the black void, empty and dark and cold, where you were liable to be sucked into the abyss of unyielding marble. Here was not only war and decisiveness, but brutality, a true room for a warlord to terrify his subjects.
Zuko's eyes took a moment to adjust to the relative darkness. He looked to the only source of light in the room, and before the dancing wall of fire that shielded the Fire Lord from lesser beings, was his sister. She had taken a knee before Ozai, her head bowed.
"Brother," Iroh called sharply, striding with Zuko the length of the expansive room towards the steps that raised the entire back end of the hall into a dais, on which sat the throne of the Fire Lord. The barrier of fire, extending the width of the platform in one long channel and multiple dragon-phoenix vessels, hid the look of surprise on the Fire Lord's face. Indeed, it hid everything but the outline of his person. Yet conversely he was given the enormous advantage of being able to observe anyone who approached under full light. They stood beside Azula, ignoring her furious glare, and bowed low. Iroh stood while Prince and Princess back away.
"Brother," he said again, clasping his hands and inclining his head slightly,
"So, how are you? You're doing well? I must say that your…flames looked unusually bright and healthy today-"
Said flames roared momentarily higher. "Spare me brother your inane and insincere chit-chat. Azula was just about to tell me something. Why are you interrupting her by coming here and requesting an audience?" The Fire Lord asked in an irascible rasp.
"If I may, I know what Azula was going to tell you. Your honorable son has done yet another great thing to…er show his greatness and the noble lineage of our house. An unusual young and innocent creature washed up on the beach this morning. And like a regal prince, your son in all his benevolence and wisdom brought her back to the Palace to be healed. Nothing for you to be troubled with, except for the generous conduct befitting of your son."
The figured shadowed by flame cocked his head and turned to his daughter, his manner changing entirely. "Azula, why would you think I should know this?"
"Father," Azula approached the bottom of the steps once again, and kneeled, as Iroh retreated with a concerned expression. "Zuko did find some trash washed up on the beach this morning. A Water Tribe creature, part mermaid," she spat in disgust. "And our own physician is looking after her!"
"Well, well, well," Ozai's tone was dangerously silky. Zuko didn't need to look up to feel his father's gaze burning into him, much like his fire had done in the past. "What do you have to say about this Prince Zuko, is this true? We're caring for a slimy creature that has crawled from the ocean?"
The Prince steeled himself when he knelt before the throne, he couldn't very well lie to his own father. It's not like he wouldn't find out. He sent a silent apology and appeal of forgiveness to the girl lying helpless and unknowing and unconscious. "It's true," Zuko's voice sounded harsh to his own ears, he quickly adopted a more servile manner. "Yes Father, I did find a girl, a part mermaid or so Dr. Hisoka says, and she's definitely from the Water Tribe. She was hurt and unconscious and I…I thought she should be taken care of before getting her out of here."
"I see," Zuko looked up from the crack in the marble he had been studying so intently and saw his father lean forward, his jaw half bathed in golden light. His lips, barely visible, formed the ghost of a smile. He suppressed a shudder at the deadly amused smirk that his sister had inherited.
"Tell me son, what is happening with our own kingdom right now."
The Prince fought the desire to look at the floor again, anywhere but at the eyes as hypnotic and as dangerous as the sun. "We're at war sir."
"With who?"
Zuko took a deep breath, "Primarily the Water Tribe."
"Very good, very good. Our opposites, the idiot uncivilized barbarians that inhabit barren ice lands. That bend defensively. So ask yourself my dear son. Why was I interrupted this afternoon after a tiresome meeting, to hear that my own kin, next in line for the throne of Fire, descended directly from the sacred dragon, the phoenix, and the very sun itself, is using our own resources to heal a creature of the filthy Water Tribe who we're currently trying to exterminate!!"
Zuko remained mute, he could feel the air around them heat, the crackling intensity slowly building to an inevitable violence.
"Ahhhmmmeemm, ahugh,"
All four family members whipped around to stare at the doorway from which had come the oddest throat clearing they had ever heard.
The guard stood awkwardly near the entrance of the hall, and if he looked like he was frightened before, that was nothing compared to the pure terror currently gracing his features. He dropped his head and spoke to the floor, "My Lord, I'm sorry he wouldn't be dissuaded." He jerked a thumb over his right shoulder to the older gentleman standing a pace behind him; Hisoka.
Healer Hisoka's face was firm and resolved, gray eyes steely and not betraying even a glimmer of apprehension when he stepped forward. He spoke calmly, despite sensing the deadly atmosphere of the scene he had interrupted. "Fire Lord Ozai," he swept him a perfunctory bow and inclined his head a fraction of an inch. "I came regarding a matter of utmost importance; the girl in the infirmary, which doubtlessly you have just heard of." He eyes flicked casually from Iroh to Azula, then to Zuko still kneeling before his father.
The Fire Lord's eyes flashed, but when he spoke his wrath seemed restrained and a small degree of respect crept into his voice. "Yes, I have heard Hisoka. I want that thing out of there, when she wakes up throw her in the dungeons where she belongs. Do you think she'd fetch a fair price at the slave auction?"
Zuko felt physically ill. They all knew what happened to young girls sold as slaves.
If Hisoka felt any offense, it was only seen in the slight tightening around his mouth, a sharpening of the eye. "It's actually quite an unusual matter My Lord, if I may." He approached the throne, standing at the flaming precipice in an unasked question. A moment's hesitation, then the protective wall reluctantly lowered as a silent sign of Ozai's acquiescence.
The other three members of the Royal Family remained frozen in surprise. Zuko bowed his head and stared, once again, at the quickly becoming familiar scenery of the floor. But out of the corner of his eye he watched his father and the healer, ears straining to catch the rapid whispering. He could only grasp words here and there, punctuated by the agitated hand gestures of the normally reserved Hisoka.
"His daughter…princess…spirits.."
Ozai's eyebrows lifted in uncharacteristic shock, then they narrowed in they exact way that his daughter's did. "…koda…positive?"
Then the doctor was nodding and his father's eyes were gleaming a little too brightly in the flickering light. The Fire Lord sat for a moment and steepled his hands, index fingers meeting and resting against his mouth, as his elbows rested on his knees on either side of his long black goatee. Zuko could see his mind racing. Dr. Hisoka straightened and stepped back, and they all waited with baited breath for the Fire Lord to speak.
"Well, well, my son. It seems you should be congratulated, and here I was ready to send you to the sea with your little friend." He gave a little cough of gravelly laughter.
Zuko's eyes widened momentarily, that was just a joke, his father's sadistic sense of humor, wasn't it?
He gave a fox-sly smile, "but you have caught a water princess, beloved daughter of Hakoda, ruler of our enemy, descended from the very spirit of water itself……..You've captured Princess Katara of the Water Tribe."
"But," Zuko's voice pitched and almost cracked on the word, "how do you know that?"
"She has the mark, on the inside of her left ankle, the mark of the crescent moon; the mark of The House of Hakoda," Hisoka pronounced.
"What are you going to do with the Princess?" Iroh finally interjected.
The Fire Lord turned to gaze at his brother for a moment with an inscrutable expression. "She will be my guest-I'm sure we can find someway for her to repay my hospitality. Or her father can do that for her. When she wakes up we can determine how reasonable a young lady she is." He muttered almost to himself, "A suite befitting a princess, or a cell in the dungeons, either way's she's a political prisoner."
He turned to Hisoka, "So treat her with care, all resources are at your disposal for healing this girl. Make sure she makes a full recovery; keep me informed of her progress. We cannot have the key to the Fire Nation's victory sick and dying on us."
With that Ozai rose, gathered his robes, and started to sweep from the room. But stopped in the middle of the room, standing dead center on the map of the world carved into the floor. "Zuko, though this was a seeming mistake, you've given me a priceless gift." Only his head moved, turning to glance back over his shoulder. Zuko could glean nothing of his demeanor, just his handsome profile and emotionless voice. "You will be rewarded for this." Then he was gone.
Only Iroh witnessed the calculating look Azula gave Zuko's back. "Well that certainly turned out unexpectedly," she remarked in an innocently flippant voice. "Well done brother."
Zuko spun around to face his sister's faked amiability.
"I don't know why but your luck certainly seems to be changing." She smiled deviously, "Let's hope it continues." Her shoulder nearly brushed his as she passed by, and he saw the casual sideways flick of her eyes under hooded lids. The Fire Princess followed the same path of retreat as her father, Zuko's eyes following her the entire way.
Hisoka approached Zuko and Iroh with a wry sort of grimace upon his face. "Well her life is spared," he sighed and looked at where Azula and her father had disappeared. "But at what price I don't know." There was a beat of silence, "Well I must get back to my patient."
"Yes certainly, Hisoka," both older men shared a grim, knowing look which was lost on Zuko, still deep in thought.
"Can I check on her later?" he asked suddenly, frowning.
"Of course, My Prince." And with a short bow and his usual unaffected manner, Hisoka's militant stride carried him from the room, leaving Zuko and Iroh in even more of a dilemma than they had found themselves not an hour previous.
Images swam behind Katara's eyelids; the smiling face of her father, stern Master Pakku, her goofy brother. Somehow they all melded together into a single strand of water. And she was dancing, and the water was weaving hither and thither, a thin tress of liquid crystal dancing with her in the sunlight. Then her family was there, watching the dazzling display of reflected silver light. It was terribly important to keep this dance going. Everyone was counting on her. It was as if she held all their happiness and future in that one rope, a thousand different interconnecting souls of her people. It became more and more difficult, she could feel the water slipping further and further out of her grasp. It danced wildly, spinning around and around and around, faster and faster and faster. Then, all at once it stopped, and twisted itself tightly like a rag being wrung dry before falling limply from Katara's hands. "No!" She cried, straining, reaching, trying to lift the water, what happened?
"Hold her down, hold her down, careful of the hot water!! Quickly, Mei Mei, the Laudanum."
"Aieyah! Why didn't you give her some earlier? This was bound to happen!"
"I didn't know she was a bender. Healer running off like that, not telling us anything!"
Cackling artic hens? Katara thought, trying to clear her head of the distracting sounds. But, ah yes there was the blessed water. Responding to her touch…
Boiling water from the vat in which the Princess' clothes were currently soaking, lifted slowly out of its container. The bender spiraled the water into a high, thin, strand, a continuation of her dream. The nurses all shrieked, covering their heads and fleeing from delirious bender and the scalding water. But before the stream of water could boil their skin, a blast of fire sliced through the water, making it sizzle away in a harmless puff of steam. Katara whimpered once before dropping her arms and falling limply back to the pillows, her latent strength apparently gone.
The women all peeked from under their arms, some crawling out from under beds and chairs. They all looked sheepishly at the frowning doctor standing in the doorway with his hands clasped behind his back. He said not a word, but pulled a small glass vial from his pocket, "Noriko?"
"Yes Healer Hisoka, um one moment." The older woman was currently trying to pull the legs of a spindly wooden chair off of her lower back. Finally giving up the silly dance in the name of dignity, she strode chair swinging from side-to-side with the sway of her considerable posterior, and took the corked glass bottle from the outstretched hand of the physician.
"It's Laudanum and Ma Huang."
All the nurses nodded. Laudanum would make her sleep and ease her pain.
"But why the Ma Huang, Healer?" A young trainee piped up.
Hisoka spoke to the entire room, "She's a very powerful bender, as you all just witnessed. Ma Huang is particularly good for suppression of water bending. Mind you though, she's too strong, she will still be able to bend somewhat, but not nearly to her full strength." He cast a stern warning expression, "Don't tell her what she's being given."
He stood there for a moment, gazing at them all with uncertain eyes, almost as if he wanted to say more. But he didn't. He merely motioned to Noriko as the rest of the nurses slowly went back to their respective tasks. Finally shaking the chair loose, Noriko followed him to the door, handing him his black leather bag. "I'll need you to keep an eye on things here. There are some wounds in the training area that need to be healed."
Noriko looked at him quizzically and he sighed, "Princess Azula's work."
She nodded in understanding and called to his retreating back, "And be careful. Don't think I'll do all the work around here if you're stupid enough to get hurt!" Once he had completely gone from sight she sighed, sagging back against the door and clutching the medicinal bottle in her hands. The fire faded from her face to be replaced with a look of wistfulness.
Katara felt herself blink, then blink again. Who had poured sand into her eyes? And covered them with ten pound bricks? She lay there, struggling to open her heavy, heavy lids. The black slowly dissipated, blinding light doing nothing to help her vision. Bit-by-bit everything swam into view. A face? Someone watching her? Her eyes flew open, and she was gazing directly into golden light. No, eyes, amber-golden orbs. They were intense, and mesmerizing. Some vague brainwave told her she should be fearful, but she wasn't. Those fiery eyes held hers for a few moments before Katara felt herself get truly tired and drift into a dreamless sleep.
Zuko's first coherent thought through his absolute surprise was Blue, startlingly, utterly, simply, amazingly blue. In a nation that was red, gold, and black, fire and sun, hazy smoke and faded heat, he only had glimpses of blue that intense to compare to the Princess' eyes; precious jewels, the sea on a rare clear days, rich silken fabrics. But her eyes outshone them all. Now that she had them closed again, he wondered if had just imagined that vibrant hue in the once again serene face.
When he had left the throne room earlier, despite his uncle's protests, his intention was to firmly, resolvedly put the peasant no, Princess Katara from his mind. He had lessons, importantly manly Princely lessons; like the art of dancing…the Flaming Fire Lily, and battle strategy…Pai Sho with his Uncle, and then word play and philosophy…a Prince had to know how to form an elegant and proper Haiku. But in afternoon training, after three times being taken down and twice almost burning the face off of Master Ji, he had decided to admit defeat and go see how the girl was doing.
"…s..okka," she suddenly muttered. He frowned, what was an Okka? His frown deepened. Why was he even still here? He shook his head, stifling a yawn, and stretching his arms over his head. It had been a long, emotionally draining day. Zuko settled himself back into the corner chair, looking to his right out one of the windows by her bed. The sun had long since departed, and the moon was an eerie orange crescent hanging over the Fire Lands.
He supposed that all the nurses were snoring in their beds. Come to think of it where was the woman on watch? He scanned the room, and there, sprawled out with head lolling over the side of a chair was a graying, stout, middle-aged woman. She was snoring softly, and the breeze from her open mouth was making the flame of the candle on the table next to her dance in time to the rhythm of her breath. The Prince smiled, staring at the flickering flame that had burned the candle low. He felt his eyes grow pleasantly heavy. He would just close them, just for a moment. Soon, he was lost to the world of harsh reality and entered the sweet realm of Morpheus.
Laudanum, also known as opium tincture or tincture of opium, is an alcoholic herbal preparation of opium. It is thus made by combining ethanol with opium. The term "laudanum," however, should be applied only to a specific tincture of opium containing approximately 10 milligrams of morphine per milliliter. thank you Wikipedia
You've probably heard it mentioned in literature or a historical movie at some point. (A lot of very famous and very great 18th, 19th, and earlier 20th century poets, writers, and artists used and/or abused it) Laudanum can also cause memory loss, hallucinations, terrors, physcosis, addiction (hey it's an opiate) and a whole host of other problems, mainly when overused and taken over a long period of time.
Ma Huang- Traditional Chinese medicinal herb containing Ephedra. (Heard of the chemical stimulant Ephedrine anyone?) Banned in the US, was used with caffeine primarily for weight loss and as a general stimulant. I'm using it as a 'bending suppressant' because of it's effects on the nervous system; especially since water bending is fluid, calm and emotive. It's also just a general disruptive to the body, the bender has to be pretty connected with his own as well as all outside energy.
Morpheus- was the god of dreams in Greek mythology. According to some ancient sources - such as the Roman poet Ovid - he was the son of Hypnos, God of Sleep.
Thought it sucked, was boring, confusing, had mistakes and inconsistencies, or just plain too many breaks? Tell me!! Please! Although you probably wouldn't have read this far if you hated it...