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Aang picks at the tofu on his plate, his mind recycling the events from the meeting with Zuk- Fire Lord Zuko, as he so loudly proclaimed to the room. How did it go from food, to Ozai, to Aang’s banishment? He left his father alive, Zuk-Fire Lord Zuko, should be thanking him, not exiling him. Nor should Uncle challenge Zuk-Fire Lord Zuko, to an Agni Kai. It was like a bad dream, he wished it were all just a dream.
Then he could make it disappear with him waking up, and he could go back to talking about peace; instead of watching an Agni Kai between Nephew and Uncle, Fire Lord against traitor, flame against flame.
‘I wish tomorrow would never come,’ Aang whispers to himself.
He lifts the slippery tofu to his mouth; the coconut tickles the inside of his nose. The food slips between his chopsticks, and lands with a thump in the red bowl, next to its uneaten friends. A familiar, warm comforting hand weighs on his shoulder. Aang looks up to kind blue eye’s gazing into his. When did Katara even come in to the room?
‘Don’t worry Aang, Zuko will be fine,’ Katara soothingly says as she sits down beside him, ‘Uncle knows what he’s doing, he’s a Master, he won’t hurt him to defeat him.’ Her words definite, so sure of who the winner of the fight will be, before the battle had even begun.
‘That’s not what I’m worried about,’ Aang says morosely, ‘they shouldn’t fight like this... Not after what Ozai did.’ His chopsticks clack on the low wooden table as they leave his hand.
‘You don’t have to go tomorrow,’ Katara tells him, ’we could just stay in here, avoid it.’ Aang shakes his head.
‘I have to go. I’m the one who caused the situation, and I have to see it through.’ Running away wouldn’t solve the problem. There would still be a fight; he would still have to deal with the consequences, of who is the victor and who is the loser. But Aang knew deep in his heart, that there would be no winners tomorrow, only losers.
‘You didn’t do anything wrong Aang. Zuko over reacted and Uncle had to step in,’ Katara protests. His eyes grow heavy under Katara’s concerned look and he takes a deep breath. A silence descends between them, as his mind whirrs, trying to figure out the right words to say. Aang doesn’t want another argument to erupt; there already had been so many fights, he didn’t want to start another one. He just hoped, that he could explain it properly.
‘Monk Gyasto once told me, when good intentions go astray, you have to face the consequences, because you’ve inspired them.’ Aang grips his hands together; his nails dig into his palm, and he paints a blinding grin on his face, which hurts his cheeks. ‘At the time he was saying that because of a pie making situation turned into a pie throwing incident, but I think it still applies here.’ Aang rubs the back of his neck, his stomach doing flips. ‘Except tomorrow I won’t be shovelling bison poop because of it.’ The consequences wouldn’t be soiled clothes at the end of the day; there is no definitive answer for tomorrow. War could start again, civil war could begin or something far worse. He couldn’t even imagine what that would look like or how he would handle the situation. Even as the Avatar, but he would face it, as best as he could, and for that he needed to be at the Agni Kai tomorrow.
‘Okay Aang,’ Katara replies, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, and her mouth crinkles around the edges. He can tell she want’s to say more to him but is keeping it to herself. ‘Well, I’m going to bed, see you in the morning.’ Aang watches Katara sweep up in a fluid motion and walks out the door, and out of sight. Aang eyes trail to the chopsticks, he rolls them along the table. He let’s out a sigh and flops down on the floor. He stares up at the ceiling, the brown changes in hue and is consumed by black.
The gentle coos of birds treads upon his ears, a trickle of light caresses his face and he opens his eyes; the sun shines brightly illuminating the green in its soft rays of light and bathes the pond in its tender glow. He knows this place, it’s the palace garden, but odd. The air feels different here, lighter, and the sun kisses his skin, and the turtle ducks in the pond are not the ones he’s gotten to know over the last couple of days. Small differences, their shells are brighter and a few more spots on their feathers.
This must be a dream; no way life could be this picturesque. A little turtle duck breaks away from its siblings and quacks up at him, before continuing behind its family once again. Butterflies flap in his stomach. Although, he would prefer flying or playing Pai Sho with Monk Gyatso, this is nice. He hasn’t had a peaceful dream, in such a long time.
‘What are you doing here!?’ Aang hears a young demanding voice ask from behind him. He spins around to see a young boy in fire nation clothes; hands on his hips, and a glare that is supposed to look intimidating but instead, comes off as cute. Well so much for a peaceful dream. At least it wasn’t the Fire Lord giving him a math test, again. He could handle a little kid.
‘Leave this place at once; you’re not supposed to be here. No one besides the royal family or the palace staff are allowed to be in these gardens, and I can tell you’re neither,’ the boy says, eyeing him up and down. ‘So, go on leave, before I make you leave,’ he commands puffing up his chest. Trying to appear to be bigger than he is, and in turn his words come out petulant. Aang feels a twinge at the back of his mind, that voice, that face, he knows these features; he just can’t seem to place them together in his mind and is coming up with a half formed picture.
‘Well, I’m here.’ Aang shrugs. ‘So, I guess I’m supposed to be here.’ The young boy looks up, and back to the ground, a confused look crosses his face. Obviously trying to contradict Aang’s common sense. Aang hides a smile under his hand and his eyes drift to the weighted bag, held tight in the young boys left hand.
‘What’s in your bag,’ Aang asks. The young boys confused look flutters away at the question.
‘Peas,’ he answers. Aang’s brow furrows.
‘Why are you carrying around peas, doesn’t seem to be a great snack.’ It’s an odd treat for a kid to be carrying around, even in a dream. Give him a good old fruit pie any day.
‘Its not for me, it’s for the turtle ducks.’ The young boy huffs, as if Aang should have already known this. Aang’s face lights up.
‘That sounds like fun, can I help feed them to?’
‘No, go away. Who ever you are.’ The boys face scrunches up and his eyes narrow at him.
‘Oh right I seem to have forgotten myself.’ Aang rubs the back of his neck abashedly. ‘My names Aang, what’s your name?’ Aang asks crouching down to his level. A shocked look flutters across the boys face and settles into a cute scowl.
‘How can you not know who I am!?’ The kid stamps his foot petulantly. ‘I’m Crown Prince Zuko,’ he angrily replies. It felt like Azula had shot him with lightning again; the unblemished skin, the shoulders light and not weighed down. This is the Zuko before the Agni Kai. His first Agni Kai. Aang’s heartaches, his throat goes dry, and he can feel tears bud at the corners of his eyes, he blinks keeping them in.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Aang says his words coming out a little gruff, ‘I’m a recent guest at the palace, and I haven’t met everyone yet,’ he says through his teeth in a cheerful tone. Zuko nods and gives him a smile that knocks the breath out of Aang. How silly, an airbender, losing the very air in his lungs, a throaty chuckle leaves through his lips and sings across the garden.
Zuko face scrunches up into a scowl, that looks ever so adorable with his nose folded up, that Aang had to restrain himself from bopping it, ‘why are you laughing?’
‘Just at myself, I’m quite silly,’ Aang says wiping away a tear at the corner of his eye.
‘Well of course you are,’ Zuko scoffs, ‘not knowing the face of the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation,’ Zuko says, ‘It’s fine as long as you know now. Now leave I’m going to feed the turtle ducks.’
‘Would you mind if I helped?’ Aang had wanted to get close to cute little turtle ducks when he saw them in the pond, but as Zuko seemed to be always there whenever he wanted to approach, he hadn’t even come close to them.
‘No, I told you to go away. So, go away.’ Zuko petulantly tells him stamping his foot; Aang has to hold down a squeal at how cute he’s acting. Tiny Zuko is the best Zuko.
‘Pleaseeeeeeeeeee. I’ve never fed a turtle duck before.’ Giving a crooked grin to Zuko who huffs and grumbles. Aang thinks he can hear under his breath: how can someone not have fed a turtle duck.
‘Fine,’ Zuko reluctantly says, ‘But after the bags empty you’re leaving.’ Zuko shakes the bag in Aang’s face.
‘Will do.’
Zuko marches past Aang and sits down by the pond; opening the bag he throws out a handful of peas into the pristine water. They float around for a few seconds, before the turtle ducks gather around the bobbing green balls and gobble them up.
‘I need to find a servant to do this,’ Zuko mutters as he glares at the peas in his hand and pucks one up. He examines it like the treaty he was looking at earlier today, ‘I can’t keep feeding the turtle ducks.’
‘Why, I thought you enjoy doing this?’ Aang asks, reaching into the bag and scooping up a fist full of peas.
‘I do.’
‘Then why pass it off to someone else if you enjoy it so much?’ He throws a pea and it lands silently into the water and floats about. Aang’s furrows his brow and looks around the bare pond. Where did the turtle ducks go?
‘Because I won’t be here to feed them anymore,’ Zuko says his voice morose.
‘What do you mean by…..’ Aang turns to Zuko, his throat grows tight, a scream dwells inside that is begging him to be let out but can’t escape. Half of Zuko’s face is ablaze with red-hot fire; the flames lick Aang’s face and beads of sweat trickle down his forehead. Aang reaches out, his heart beating wildly. The flames dart across his hand and dance around his fingertips.
The sound of cracking plays in his ears, the fire slips out of his grasp as the ground beneath him falls away. He moves his legs and arms but the air doesn’t bend to his will. He looks up, and all that remains of the above world is the flame that withers from his sight, as the darkness swallows him.
He drifts through the dark void; the air rushes past his feet and the wallops of wind hit his ears. The grand blackness at the tips of his toes edge into light and Aang shuts his eyes tight, perhaps he might wake up. The sounds of rushing wind turn to a whisper around his ears and settle back into its usual state of invisibility. The weight of the world and its binds are gently placed on his body once again.
Aang opens his eyes; the tiles of the palace are beneath his feet. He glances around the deserted walk ways. The unusual silence that has descended like a plague on Caldera, the hairs on his arms stand on edge and his stomach churns.
‘Hello is anyone here.’ He wanders the walkways and a stirring greets his ears. He trails on the murmurs; the voices draw him into a pitch-black hall. The clatter of his footsteps and the beating of his heart is all he can hear as he becomes blind to the world and burn as they meet the light.
His eyes flicker as they adjust to the brightness, and he finds himself in a stadium full of Fire Nation subjects. The only people he recognises are Zhao and Azula. They’re both staring intently at the stage and Aang follows they’re split gazes. One to a hulking figure draped in pray shawl, at the edge of a long wooden stage, and to the other side a smaller person that seems to be smothered in the protective embrace of the burgundy fabric.
Aang’s gut twists and clenches his fists. He hopes it’s not who he thinks it is, he hopes and hopes but he knows who it’s. The ponytail is all too familiar.
The boy turns, Aang’s breath stops, the pray shawl flutters to the ground. Zuko collapses into a prostrate bow that encompasses the ground in his small girth. Aang didn’t know a person could bow so low, that they could almost disappear into nothingness.
‘I’m sorry I spoke out of turn Father,’ his voice so weak and terrified, tears falling down his checks as Ozai approaches.
‘Get up and fight,’ Ozai commands, his voice pricks at Aang’s ears and sends shivers down his spine.
‘I am your honourable son. I won’t fight you.’ The long shadowy figure of Ozai eclipses Zuko, and he brings out a hand that wraps around Zuko’s face in a loving tender embrace. It would seem so sweet, if Aang didn’t know what was going to happen next.
Aang opens his mouth, he can feel himself making words but silence only rings in his ears, his legs strain but he remains in place. He can’t warn Zuko about what is going to happen next, he can’t say a thing, he can’t change it.
‘You should never have questioned me.’ The voice strikes Aang with lighting precision. That wasn’t Ozai’s voice, but Uncles.
Fire glides around in a tempest of blues, greens, yellows and red bathes them in the inferno. It reaches high and slams low to the ground. Revealing Uncle’s grand muscular yet pudgy form looming over Zuko’s submissive posture, and holding Zuko’s face in his hand. Fire engulfs Zuko’s face; his scream burns Aang’s ears, he closes his eyes but it repeats back into the arena. The fire, Zuko’s scream, Uncle, his scream, his scream, scream that spirals around him.
Sweat drips down his neck. His inhales and exhales rocks his chest, his muscles contracting and stretching and burn. The familiar dark brown ceiling, his fingers dig into the crevices between the floorboards. The rocking of his chest turns to a smooth landscape and the sounds of air that enter his ears peters out. The dark brown ceiling turns to a light a brown. Aang turns to his side and see the sun peeking up over the horizon, on a new day, on a horrible day.