The Pawn |Katara

PROLOGUE - PART I

Long ago, the four Nations lived together in harmony. But all that changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

The map that hang from the wall, almost covering a side of his room whole, had once been painted in four different colours. Now only two were the prevalent ones, along with two tiny blue spots on the north and the south. The air nomads existed no more and there were no more four Nations. The war with the Earth Kingdom and the raids at the Southern Water Tribe had only worsened the situation. The Fire Nation gained more and more ground, the colonies expanding, until only the Nothern Water Tribe and Ba Sing Se remained in the hands of their people. Until a couple of days ago.

Ba Sing Se had fallen.

The boy standing in front of the map held up his dark red tunic with the subtle black and gold accents, the silky fabric smooth against his body. He put it on, let the cloth fall over his back, broad and strong from the years of exercise, and down to his waist, before he reached forward to tie it over his black undershirt. His eyes, bright as if all the wealth of the world had been trapped inside, didn't leave the map as he came to a bitter realisation himself.

He supposed his world map was now outdated. In light of recent events, everything belonged to the Fire Nation. There was no room for any colour other than scarlet.

He turned away, slowly moved to the long, golden mirror positioned on the other side of the room, his shoes making no sound. He reached for a brush and started brushing his dark hair that just grazed the end of his chin, his lips set into a thin line. It felt as if the Fire Nation was a leach – no, he couldn't call his people that, not even in his head. They were misguided. He nodded to himself as if he agreed. Blinded by greed and the lies told by their leaders, they felt no unrest at the state of the world.

He left his comb on the table nearby—that one too, gold, the handle twisting to form a dragon—and reached for a silky gold ribbon he used as a headband to tie up half of his hair into the traditional bun all Fire Nation officials wore.

He couldn't blame his people. Nothing seemed to be wrong while they still stayed at the Fire Nation, there was no cause for concern. The Fire Lord and all of his subordinates did a good job of masking the truth into pretty lies the people could use. He had been just as naive as every single person in this nation before he had left for the Fire Nation colonies not too long ago, set to accompany his parents at his father's insistance as they were asked to ensure order ensued after the death of the Avatar. It was safe to say the respect he was showered with when he left his home, just for being the son of two of the Fire Lord's subordinates, wasn't a given there. His lineage outside of the Fire Nation was a curse. When he had first returned he had thought he would never travel again. After thinking over it better, though, he had come up with a more sound plan; he would change the circumstances instead.

His thoughts spoke nothing of his actions or his words, though. He was still supposed to obey to all the Fire Lord said. And the thought of facing those he called friends was even more daunting than betraying his ruler.

The knock on his door reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing and he hurried to complete his bun and called out for the one behind the door to enter. Slowly, it opened, only to reveal a small, middle-aged woman, her dark hair with strands of grey tied in a bun on the back of her head. She peered inside the room until she found him by the mirror.

"Master Akira?"

She bowed in a sort of greeting, straightening up a moment later. She seemed ready to speak once more when he cut her off.

"I'm not late already, am I, Akemi?"

He checked the clock hanging beside the mirror as she shook her head.