For the Want of the Sun • Zuko

chapter one

I am five and an orphan when I first meet the prince.

I've scarcely lived at all, and all I know is the warm hands of my mother, of the whispers of her teachings, until one day I don't anymore. I am first told that I will be sent away, to an orphanage or a home. I do not know what that means, and I ask them where my mother is. The servant's eyes are sad and dull, and they look away.

    She comes to me in the evening, on a summer day with a lavender glow. She is pretty and red, and her black hair sweeps across her back. Her face is gentle, and it holds a certain elegance that is lacking on the faces of the other servants, or my mother. She seemed like an angel to me, then, and I thought maybe I should bow, and so I did.

    She laughs, but it is shallow, and she beckons me upwards with her hand. "Oh, please, there's no need for that." Her voice is delicate, and it reminds me of birdsong. "Do you know who I am, my dear?"

    She says it with an air that makes me think I should, but I shake my head. She smiles softly and regards me. "My name is Ursa," she says, sitting beside me on my tiny bed. "I am the Fire Lord's wife. I knew your mother."

    I perk up at that, eyes curious. "You did?" ( I had since uncovered my mother's absence, and for the first time learned the word death). She nods. "Yes. We were children together. In Hira'a. She was a good friend of mine, and I'm very sorry to hear of her passing."

    I nod, acknowledging her sympathies.

"It's come to my attention that you're supposed to be sent to the colonies, but I know that's not what Amiya would've wanted. And so I've come to make you an offer."

    "An offer?"

"Mhm. I have two children: a son and a daughter. My son, Zuko, is about your age. If you would like, I can make arrangements to have you stay here, in the palace."

    I listen carefully, hopefully. "It's not in my power to give you ranking, and I'm sorry that you would still be a servant. But you're just a child...it's not right for you to be sent away. Would you like that? Would you like to stay?"

    I nod, and my voice is feeble. "I would like that, ma'am."

Her smile is soft and caring, and I feel as if I've known her longer. "Alright then. I'll see what I can do." She stands, her robes trailing behind her. Her eyes are amber as they lock on mine, and I can't seem to look away. "Oh!" She exclaims, and chuckles. "I'm very sorry, I forgot to ask. What's your name, my dear?"

    I recite it, the syllables a familiar rhyme on my tongue, but it seems to hold more importance when it is spoken to her. "Y/n," I say.

    "Y/n," she repeats, and her eyes seem distant. "What a lovely name." She smiles again and makes her way to the door, the tiny bedroom seeming pale in her presence. With a last swish of her hair she is gone, and I am left alone. The next day I am relocated to a bedroom in the southernmost corridor of the palace, and I am struck by its beauty: the tall, lavish curtains, the bright windows, the cool floor. It overlooks the palace garden, and it is there that I meet the prince, and that is the beginning of everything.

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    It is a knock at my door that rouses me awake, parting me from the luxurious slumber that my new bedroom provided me. It is a maid, and she tells me that my presence has been requested.

    "Where?"

"The gardens. Fire Lady's orders."

I get dressed as I always have, though the opening of my wardrobe presents me with garments of silk instead of cotton, and crimson instead of brown. The fabric is soft against my skin, and strange.

    She leads me down the hallways, each turn revealing to me a part of the palace I had not known existed. Sunlight pours in from the windows, dancing across the dark floors in shadows and flickers. When we reach the garden she leaves me, and I stand amongst the flowers. Fire Lilies, if I remember correctly. My mother had once brought them home, and they sat in a glass vase until they wilted away.

    I hear voices: a woman's and a boy's. They lure me forward, and my feet carry me through the rows and into the center of the garden, where they come into view. The boy, who's laughing, goes silent when he sees me, and the woman turns around. It is Ursa, and she smiles.

    "Y/n! Come here, come here!"

I walk forward timidly, and it is then that a see another child: a girl, sitting in the shade, and staring intently. I do not manage a smile, though I try.

    Ursa beckons me forward and I come, and she rests a delicate hand on my shoulder. "Y/n," she says, and she maneuvers me around. "This is my son, Zuko. And that's Azula, my daughter. It's about time you met."

Zuko's gaze is curious as it rests on me, and I am able to take him in. Hair like obsidian,

eyes like his mother's. His skin: pale and fair, demonstrating no signs of work or hardship. The face of a prince. Moments go by as he stares, and then he grins. "Hi!" he exclaims. "It's nice to meet you!"
I am shy as I never have been, and I manage a weak response. "Yeah...it's nice to meet you, too." His grin is wide and welcome, and he steps out from behind his mother. "Do you want to play with me?" he asks, and I nod.

    From there we went to the roses, and from there the pond. The turtle-ducks were made nervous by our presence, and we tossed them crumbs of bread. Azula hovered behind us, watching, until her mother urged her forward and she sat hesitantly by my side. She offered a shy smile, and a wave. She was not yet cruel, then. I returned it glady, and the three of us played until our stomachs rumbled, and then again until the sun set over the horizon. Zuko is kind and sprightly, rich with childishness and enthusiasm. I share it with him, and we laugh as we play.

    It is here that I make my first friend, plus one. Azula grows tired before sunset, and we are left alone, but as we would confirm in the future, we liked it. Ursa watches us tenderly, and if she looks hard enough she can almost see the shadows of two children in Hira'a, playing in the sand.

    When Zuko and I depart that night to our separate rooms, we make a promise to play again tomorrow. It is kept, as it is the next day, and the next. The days grow shorter and us taller, and there is always time for tomorrows and todays. We are children, and have not yet tasted the sourness of responsibility and expectations. Zuko has not felt loss. But it is lovely and bright and colorful, and it is the happiest I have felt in my five short years of existence. Zuko crowns me in his affection, and wreaths me in friendship. He is a child, as I am, and we live our childhoods fearlessly and attached at the hip.

    It is three years later when the skies darken, and things change.

It's a shock when Ursa leaves and does not return, and her absence becomes a source of gossip and mystery for the passing-bys in the servants' corridor. I hear it whispered and I go to Zuko, though I am not allowed in his room. He lets me in anyway, and I convince him to eat as I hold his hand. He cries that night, sobbing into my shoulder, and I hold him close and smooth his hair. I whisper words of comfort as I remember my mother doing for me, as I'd seen Ursa do for her children. He hugs me until his eyes run dry, and I smile for him. He manages a weak one back and says he is tired, burying himself under his quilt.

I stop at Azula's room before my own, and I knock at the door. I thought that, maybe, she'd like for me to hold her hand, as I had so many times. Perhaps she craved the same comfort that Zuko did, and perhaps I could help. But she opens the door, and it is quickly closed. She is no longer the little girl with stars in her eyes, who's favorite place to lay her head was on my shoulder. She had already been hardened, then. And so I go to sleep myself, and I hope Zuko and Azula will be happier tomorrow. With time they are, and Zuko returns to me, but Azula does not.

I am twelve when the world is shook, and my life is changed. And, awful as it was, it was only the end of the beginning.