Ephemera
"When the poor tired child, passion, falls asleep.
How far away the stars seem, and how far
Is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart!"
-- Yeats
My nanny told me stories when I was little. Stories about dragons and majestic mountains full of forbidden love, but the ones I loved the most featured handsome princes that swept in and saved the princesses from danger. And how they would then fall in love and live happily ever after. How I wished for my own fairytale….
Little did I know then that my own "Once upon a time" would end so tragically…
The first time I saw the prince he was standing with his family on a raised dais, set in the ballroom for all those entering to come and pay their respects. He was regal and handsome, and so cold I could feel the ice in his pale gaze skitter down my spine like a many legged creature scurries across the floor at night. Not the most romantic of meetings, now that I look back on it. His narrow eyes flicked over me in chilling disdain; I remember feeling a little put out about that. His brother was so kind and he smiled gently at me, even a bit flirtingly, which earned him a sharp jab from his laughing-eyed wife. Zeike. I miss her. Little Lu Ten was so small and solemn then. But I could see the mischievous boy I would come to love peeking out from behind his eyes. He had his father's joy for life and I nearly died when he did, the loss was so great. But I digress…
I wanted to tell you about how I came to be back here, in this place of all places.
It's not like me to be so maudlin, but the years have not always been kind and now I just want to sit and think about what could have been, and what is. And how thankful I am for what is. But that is the end of the story, and I want to tell you from the beginning. Where was I? Ah, yes…
The first time I saw the prince… Ozai, of the Fire Nation.
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Who does he think he is, looking at me like that? Like I am something he needs to scrape off of his boot! Of course, I know exactly who he thinks he is. And I still want to smack that sneer off his face.
He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. I suppose I should feel honored, but since I just watched him do this same thing with all the other young candidates, I don't feel quite as flattered as you might imagine. He says nothing to me, other than a perfunctory "Would you care to dance?" He holds me so stiffly and moves so sharply through the steps, I feel like if I were to bump into him I might cut myself. As he keeps his gaze on something obviously far more interesting than I am, somewhere over my left shoulder, I am given ample opportunity to study him.
Up close, his features look no less perfect than they did from afar, which saddens me in a way. I don't know why, but I wanted him to be a little less… well… perfect. At eighteen, his alabaster skin should not be so flawless, nor his eyes so callused. I know he is a firebender and I hoped he would be warmer in temperament, like his brother perhaps. His jaw is set tight and I can see a tiny muscle jumping. He hates this. I don't know why that idea popped into my head just now, but it refuses to leave. I would think picking a wife would be a happy occasion, but I guess not. I'm happy to be in the running, right? Well, not exactly, but that is not the point here… he should be happy… It miffs me that he isn't. All these girls just waiting for you to choose them, and you have the nerve to be angry about it?! I restrain the small sound of annoyance rising in my throat and resume my perusal of his face. His mouth is firm, but I can see a hint of softness in the slight pout of his lower lip. I get the feeling he would not be pleased by that observation. By the time I work my way to his eyes, I am startled to see them looking back at me. The infinitesimal spark of humor in those eyes changes his face from a marble statue to something that makes my face burn with embarrassment, and then a little anger.
What? I'm not allowed to look at the man who may be my future husband? And then that thought sends even more warmth to my face… Can a person die from embarrassment? He still says nothing, but just looks at me with the most curious expression. Like he is seeing me for the first time and wonders what kind of creature I am.
"What is your name?" His voice is as rough and raspy as I remember. I let it echo in my head for a moment before I think about just what it was that he asked… What?
"My name? It is the same as it was when we were first introduced, my lord." I shut my eyes for a second and mentally kick myself for my oh-so-fast and woefully unruly tongue. I open them to see, not a frown of displeasure, but instead a tiny, is that pleased? smirk tilting his lips.
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I would find out later just how much he was pleased by my little display of willfulness.
The first time he snuck into my room, on feet so stealthy I thought for a second he was some figment of my heated imagination, I was shocked to say the least.
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I try not to scream as the shadowy figure that stands next to my bed makes a small scooping gesture with his hand. Suddenly, there is illumination, brilliant red-orange casting flickering shadows on the wall behind him, and I am amazed to see the cold prince gazing down at me, an enigmatic expression on his face.
"What are you doing here?" I sit up and draw the covers around me.
"Do you want me to leave?" His expression doesn't change but I know somehow, just know, that he is afraid to hear my reply.
"No."
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Now before you curse me for being a wanton, I want to tell you something of my life before that. I am the only daughter of a retired general who happened to have just the ancient pedigree necessary to guarantee me a place in the small group of girls that the prince was to choose his bride from. Growing up with him was difficult to say the least. He was a stern man and exacting. His disappointment at my being born not only a girl child, but also not even a firebender like himself, was palpable in every harsh word and reprimand I received over the years. But he never married again after my mother died from a fever when I was still an infant, never attempted to sire another child. I think that was more out of his love for her, rather than any loyalty to me. Still, he assured that I was given an education appropriate to my station, and I entered the academy for girls at the expected time.
It was a new experience for me. To be praised for my quick mind and skill with the dual swords, instead of having every move criticized, was liberating. I grew strong in my time away from him, and when I returned I was no longer the meek daughter who quaked in the face of his disapproval. The bitter tears I shed to try and please him had long since dried, and I realized that if I were to have happiness then I would have to reach out and grab it whenever I could.
So when the prince carefully slid the clothing from my body, I did not protest.
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Our wedding was a grand affair, full of pomp and circumstance. I was overjoyed to be Ozai's wife. The handsome prince, the one from my fairy tales... we were so happy together. By night he played my body like a fine instrument, by day he showed me the Fire Nation in a way I had never seen before. I like to think I pleased him as well.
I just wish our joy had lasted.
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"Push! Push, my lady!" The healers voice is strident, imploring, but I am so tired. I have been straining to bring this new being into the world for days now and I just want to sleep. I can feel the life draining out of me.
"Giving up so easily?" A harsh voice whispers in my ear. But I can hear the tremor of fear under his words. "Push for me… please." I have learned many things about my husband and one of them is that he never pleads for anything. So I summon all my remaining strength for one final push. The pain is staggering. I thank the gods when I finally hear the plaintive cry of my child, for I have no energy left. I close my eyes in relief and darkness overtakes me.
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When I heard of my husband's actions following the birth, the first feeling of discontent reared its ugly head. Not only was I worn out by my extended labor, but apparently so was my tiny son. After his first weak cries he fell silent and became unresponsive. The healers did all they could and miraculously he pulled through. There was much rejoicing in the palace, but Ozai did not share in it. Later, a servant told me that he had wanted to have Zuko "put down like the weakling he is". It was only because of his father's interference that this did not happen.
I knew of my husband's love of power, his need for it. Being born a second son grated on him daily. He despised weakness. Ozai said once that it was my strength of character that attracted him to me in the first place. So when the son he had been waiting for arrived and was nothing but a disappointment, he rejected him. If only he could have seen the truth... that the very fact Zuko survived proved his strength, his determination to live. But I forgave him for his harshness and tried to make the best of things.
It was not long after that I found myself pregnant again. My heart broke anew when Ozai told me that he hoped this child would make him proud. Every day after that I grew a little sadder, a little more hurt.
My fairytale was growing dark.
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I know I shouldn't have, but I coddled Zuko. I saw so much of myself in him. That desperation to be loved and wanted, the hunger for approval. It tore me apart to see Ozai turn away from him in disgust. He tried so hard to please his father. I could not have been more proud of him, or loved him more. I will always wonder if this bias on my part led to the disastrous events to follow.
Conversely, my daughter grew up strong and arrogant. There was a streak of cruelty within her that troubled me, but I never got the chance to root it out, and perhaps soften her in some way. I wish I could have held her once more before… Well, you know what happened. Ironically, it was this child, the prodigy that Ozai had been waiting for, his favored daughter, who clued me in on his betrayal.
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The throne room is dark as I enter. I can feel the heavy weight of the blade concealed in my sleeve, resting against my arm. I stiffen my resolve once more. I have to do this. I cannot, no; WILL NOT let my husband's misguided ambitions cause the death of my son, my favored child, my Zuko.
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Azulon never expected the attack, never got the opportunity to retaliate. I had to flee for my life afterward. It was a dear price to pay to save the life of my son. Ozai's resulting ascendance to the throne brought a new era of pain to the world. I would never see my beloved prince, my husband, again. Yet, I would do it all over the same way if given the chance. Zuko thinks I died that night, and perhaps a part of me did.
But as one fairytale ends, another begins.
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The first time I saw the prince again… he was being crowned Fire Lord.
Zuko, of the Fire Nation.
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Forgive me; I intended to tell you of all my adventures after I left the palace. Of the people I met, the men I loved… Why do you look at me that way? Was it not punishment enough that I must be separated from my family, should I have suffered alone as well? Yet, I find our time growing short. I thank you for your kind ear, dear stranger, but now I must take my leave.
I draw in a deep breath and step into the ballroom. There on the dais is the royal family.
I wait to be introduced.
Fin
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