Chapter Two: 7 Years Later
A smile on her lips and a glint in her eyes, her auburn hair wisped behind her – perhaps the loudest aspect of her movement. Her step was feather-light and silent, her movements fluid and gliding. She knew the castle well and navigated it with a stealthy ease – up the staircase, down the corridor, to the room at the end of the hall.
The door slid open with only a whisper of a scuffing sound, and she slipped in before anyone would notice. The room was warm and smelled of cedar and incense. As she approached the grand, silk-dressed bed, her smile widened when she looked upon the peaceful, sleeping face of her prince. His dark hair was tousled, and his breathing was soft and rhythmic, filling the room with a sense of calm.
As she usually did, the 7-year-old girl slipped onto the bed with the 9-year-old boy, trying her hardest to stifle her giggle and not to wake him. She gently lay her head on his pillow, then quietly scooted closer and closer. It was a silly, meaningless personal challenge of hers – to see how close she could get before he'd wake up.
"Mmhmmm," Prince Zuko grumbled, his sleepy golden eyes finding her stormy blue ones mere centimeters from his face. "What the hell, Lyra…" he muttered, pushing her away. Secretly, he liked it when his best friend would visit him at night, but he would never admit it to her – lest she grow even more bold.
She laughed quietly and rolled away from his rejection, then flopped herself across his stomach perpendicularly. "I'm getting better, you know," she told him with a laugh. "I get closer and closer every time."
Zuko sighed and gave up, relenting to her friendly assault. He was still tired, and judging from the lack of sunlight coming through his window, it was either really late or really early. Despite the obviously uncomfortable position, she continued to lay across his stomach as she spoke. "Pretty soon I'll climb all the way up your butt before you even wake up. I'll wear your body like a meat suit and finally tell your dad he smells funny."
Zuko couldn't hold the surprised bark inside him, and instead used his hands to muffle the sound. "You're so weird," he told her.
"You mispronounced interesting," she teased and he rolled his eyes. "Anyway – get dressed. I have an idea!"
"Shhhh!" Zuko hissed, and Lyra immediately covered her mouth with both hands. That was too loud, but the look of exasperated horror on Zuko's face only made her snicker. He was always so worried about her getting caught in his room, but Lyra thought nothing of it. They were children, after all, nothing nefarious or scandalous to interpret from her unusual visit.
"I have an idea," she whispered it this time.
Zuko furrowed his brow. "I have an idea" has led him to a great many adventures, and disasters, with Lyra. "And why can't we do this idea when the sun is up?"
"Because I wanna do it now," she whined, and Zuko gave her another incredulous look.
"No way," he replied, definitively.
An hour later, the duo were climbing the steps in an abandoned watchtower, just outside the compound gates. The air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of dew and morning flowers. Lyra seemed to just propel herself forward with ease, her footsteps barely making a sound on the stone steps, while Zuko was panting and breathless less than halfway up. Lyra teased encouragement from ahead of him – always a few steps ahead.
"Come on, slowpoke!" she called back to him, her voice a melody of excitement.
But when they reached the top, Zuko understood why the journey had been worth it. The view was incredible, spanning not just across the compound, but further into the Fire Nation city and beyond the coast. The sea breeze kissed their faces, carrying the salty scent of the ocean. The horizon was painted with the first hues of dawn, a palette of pinks, purples, and golds blending seamlessly. And even better – it was empty. So few places existed in his life without an audience of some sort. The combination was refreshing. He felt the feeling wash over him. "Wow," he breathed, moving to sit at the edge of the tower.
Lyra sat down beside him, her legs dangling off the side with his. She rested her head on his shoulder, nuzzling into his warmth. Zuko was always so warm.
"Good idea," Zuko admitted, finally.
"Oh! This wasn't my idea," she said, as if suddenly remembering. "Well, I mean, this was part of it, but this –" she shoved her hand in her deep pants pocket and pulled out a small jar of clear solution. "I saw a man at the market with this yesterday, and look," she pulled a wand from inside the jar, dipped it into the solution, and blew through the wand. Large, colorful bubbles spilled out of the tool like a cloud, reflecting all the colors of the rising sun as they floated down.
"Isn't this neat?" Lyra encouraged, handing the bubble solution to Zuko. He'd never seen a tool like this, either. He dipped the wand himself and exhaled through its hole, and more bubbles spilled out. A joyful sound escaped both their smiles.
He relaxed into Lyra, enjoying the peace and simplicity of the moment.
The bubbles danced in the morning light, floating effortlessly, and Zuko watched them with childlike wonder. The world seemed to stand still as they blew bubbles from atop the watchtower, the sun rising behind them, casting long shadows and a golden glow over everything. The soft popping of the bubbles mixed with their quiet laughter, creating a symphony of innocent joy.
It was moments like this he was most grateful for her. There were times she made him crazy – her disregard for the rules, for starters, not to mention her wild and free spirit that could conjure up trouble from almost anything – but these other times, she was the only one who could lift the weight of the world from his shoulders and let him rest. Truly rest, in comfort and joy, as a child.
And they continued to blow bubbles from atop the watchtower until the sun had fully risen. Uncle Iron and cousin Lu Ten would catch them sneaking back into the compound, and with a small, knowing smile, they gave them a small nod and looked away.
. . .
Zuko was late to breakfast. He had been racing down the palace corridors, his heart pounding in his chest, but no amount of speed could erase the feeling of dread that clung to him. The grand dining hall loomed ahead, its doors like the maw of a great beast ready to swallow him whole. When he finally pushed them open, every eye turned to him, the silence more damning than any reprimand.
Fire Lord Ozai sat at the head of the long, ornate table, his presence dominating the room. He looked up slowly, his golden eyes narrowing as they locked onto Zuko. "You're late," he said, his voice low and dangerous. The words cut through the air like a blade, and Zuko felt his heart sink.
"I'm sorry, Father," Zuko mumbled, bowing deeply as he approached his seat. He could feel the heat of his father's gaze burning into him, even as he tried to shrink into himself, to become as small and invisible as possible.
"Sorry?" Ozai's voice rose, a simmering anger barely contained. "You think a future Fire Lord can afford to be sorry? Do you think our enemies will wait for you, Zuko?"
Zuko's cheeks flushed with shame, and he clenched his fists at his sides. "No, Father. It won't happen again."
"It better not," Ozai said, his tone icy. "You are the crown prince – act like one. There is no room for failure. You need to be punctual, disciplined, and strong. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father," Zuko replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the weight of his father's expectations pressing down on him, crushing him under their immense pressure.
Azula, sitting beside their father, watched the exchange with a smug smile, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She lived for these moments, these opportunities to see her brother brought low. Zuko could feel her gaze, could almost hear her silent taunts, and it made the sting of his father's words all the more painful.
"You are dismissed," Ozai said finally, turning his attention back to his meal. Zuko bowed again, retreating from the table with his head down, the taste of humiliation bitter in his mouth.
He spent the rest of the morning brooding, the scolding replaying in his mind over and over. He was feeling quite grumpy with Lyra that afternoon, frustrated with himself for agreeing to go with her. He should know better. His father taught him better. He would be Fire Lord someday, damnit, and he needed to start acting like it. He couldn't keep doing childish things with her and –
His thoughts were interrupted with a hard, whooshing impact and a wet landing. Zuko plunged into the pond beside him, Lyra toppling over into the water with him. The world turned into a blur of water and splashes, suspended in the cool turbulence of the water.
Lyra's laughter filled the courtyard, a bright, joyous sound that seemed to echo off the stone walls and resonate in the very air. It did not cease at the judgmental looks of the house staff watching them, their disapproving glares like invisible chains pulling Zuko down. His face burned with embarrassment, the heat of it contrasting sharply with the chill of the pond water.
"What are you doing, Lyra?" he demanded, pushing her off. His voice came out harsher than intended, a mix of anger and shame.
"Training," she replied easily, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It could be the only acceptable answer, and they both knew it was nonsense. The truth was, she saw him lost in thought, she recognized that self-deprecating look in his eyes, and decided to put an end to it. "You are far too easy to sneak up on, Prince Zuko. We will keep working on that."
Zuko narrowed his eyes at her, but he could feel his defenses faltering under her playful glow. With a sigh, he stood from the water, the heavy fabric of his soaked clothes clinging to his body, and waved a splash at her.
Lyra immediately lit up and returned the gesture, her laughter a melody of defiance and joy. She splashed him back, wetting his hair and sending droplets flying in the morning sunlight. He lifted his arms in defense, then kicked more water towards her. In minutes, they were just children again – playing together in the artificial pond they used to play in as toddlers. The water was cool and refreshing, the sound of their splashing and laughter echoing off the courtyard walls.
The courtyard itself was a serene, meticulously maintained space, with perfectly pruned bushes and vibrant flowers lining the edges. The pond sat in the center, surrounded by smooth, flat stones that were now slick with water. Above, the sky was a brilliant blue, a stark contrast to the fiery tempers that often raged within the palace walls.
"Wow, you're practically water benders," Azula's voice interrupted them, dripping with sarcasm. She stood at the edge of the courtyard, her hip locked and arms crossed, an air of superiority emanating from her. She was mocking them, and Zuko immediately felt shame. But not Lyra –
Without thinking, Lyra wisped a heavy splash towards the princess, who gasped in shock at the audacity. "You bitch," she hissed, and fire exploded from her fingertips. The sudden heat was palpable, steam rising where the flames met the water. Zuko sprang to action, his training kicking in as he deflected the attack with his own fire. Fire blast after fire blast, the siblings engaged in an escalating battle, their movements precise and deadly, yet fueled by the recklessness of youth. The air crackled with energy, the smell of smoke mingling with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers.
At least, until –
"What is going on here?" The voice of Fire Lord Ozai cut through the chaos like a blade. His presence was a tangible force, commanding immediate attention and respect.
Zuko and Azula stopped immediately and turned to face their father with a respectful bow, their hearts pounding in unison. The heat of their exertion mixed with the cold sweat of fear and respect. The staff, who had been watching with barely concealed disapproval, now averted their eyes, their postures rigid and deferential.
"Training," Zuko parroted Lyra from earlier. "We're just training, Father." His voice was steady, but inside, his heart hammered against his ribs.
Azula could sense their father's hostility and quickly corroborated his explanation with a nod, her usually confident demeanor now tinged with apprehension. Ozai's gaze was sharp and assessing, his eyes lingering on the young girl still sitting awkwardly in the pond.
Lyra, dripping wet and unbothered, looked up at him with a naive smile. Her hair, usually a wild halo of auburn, was plastered to her face and neck, and her clothes clung to her small frame. Despite her appearance, or perhaps because of it, she seemed completely at ease.
"You should join me, Lord Ozai," she said boldly, her voice clear and unwavering. "The water is quite warm now."
For a moment, there was stunned silence. Zuko's heart pounded in his chest, expecting the worst. Azula's eyes widened in shock, and the staff seemed to collectively hold their breath. But then, to everyone's surprise, Ozai chuckled. It was a deep, rumbling sound that none of them had heard before, a sound that seemed to momentarily lift the oppressive atmosphere.
"Perhaps another time, Lyra," he said, turning away. "Zuko, Azula, keep your sparring to the training room." And with that, he left. As he walked away, his robes flowing behind him like dark shadows, Zuko and Azula exchanged confused glances. Lyra just grinned, standing up and squeezing water out of her clothes, her eyes twinkling with triumph and amusement.
"See? A little fun never hurt anyone," she said, nudging Zuko with her elbow, her voice a mixture of laughter and wisdom.
He shook his head, unable to suppress a small smile. "You're impossible, Lyra."
"You mispronounced interesting again," she corrected with a wink, and with that, they headed inside, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind them.