They say that the swamp shows you things- that it reaches into the recesses of your heart and draws out even your best hidden emotions. The first time I had ventured to travel through the dark, frightening marsh, it had showed me my mother. The second time, however, it led me to a mirror. It was with curiosity that I approached the looking glass, but when I saw the image reflected there, I sank to my knees in surprise.
The woman in the mirror was me, but at the same time, she was a different person all together. With her angular features and soft beauty, she resembled my mother more than I. My distorted mirror-image's lips were full and parted, as though she were struggling to capture a breath. Her blue eyes were heavy lidded, and filled with an emotion that I have not yet experienced. Her hair was tousled, as mine often looks when I first emerge from bed in the early morning.
But what was most surprising was not my image, but of the one behind her. A pale skinned man stood, his fingertips lightly grazing my mirror images' neck. His finely chiseled features were held in a posture of tenderness and indescribable love. My breath caught in my throat at the obvious emotion, and for the briefest of instants, I wondered if this was my future- to be cherished by the pale skinned man in foreign dress.
Still in a state of slight disbelief, I reached out and touched the mirror's surface with my fingertips. Instead of the cold, hard glass that I had been expecting, I made contact with a cool, silvery liquid that rippled across the surface of the image. The woman within suddenly met my eyes, and the softest of smiles curved upon her lips as she lifted a hand to her neck and rested it on a necklace that was unfamiliar to me. The ripples continued to wash across the mirror, but before the image was distorted completely, I made out a certain identifying trait on the man.
A scar.
I caught sight of the rippled flesh that spanned from the inside corner of the man's left eye to his ear before reflection had completely faded. I blinked once, and it was simply my own full, childish face that peered back at me. I touched the mirror once again, and my hand met cold, unrelenting glass.
Shakily, I drew myself to my feet and hurried away from the mirror, determined to leave the image far behind me. I had only seen one man- no, boy- who had possessed such a mark, and I was unwilling to even contemplate a future with such a person. So I forced myself to forget the mirror and that horrid swamp, and continue living as though I had never seen the couple in the mirror.
It wasn't until many years later, when I was sitting at my dressing table and Zuko had leaned down to kiss my neck that I remembered. For the briefest of instants, my reflection had changed to that of a wide eyed little girl, staring at me with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. I smiled softly, remembering the child that I had once been, and then the image faded away.
"I love you," Zuko whispered, and my smile widened. It had been my destiny to be cherished by the foreign man after all.
And for the first time, I was thankful to the mirror, and to the swamp that had showed me my future when I had been too young to understand it.
This drabble was inspired by a piece of artwork by casualsinner on deviantart.
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