ANYTHING BUT; avatar the last airbender

chapter 1

[act one; chapter one     -     the princess]

    "Princess."

     She looks up. A young girl, only sixteen, with long, dark hair, and light, inquisitive eyes. She is dressed in the colors of her people—different, layered shades of green.

    She hums, nodding her head only once.

    The young boy, a servant, steps into her chambers, linking his arms behind his back. He bows, bending at his waist, his head dipped down, towards his feet. When he stands again, he lowers his voice, speaking quietly. "The Avatar has been sighted, Princess. In the lower rings of the City."

    "Good." She looks back at the papers on her desk. Her hair, reaching her waist, drapes over her shoulders. "And who is their escort?"

    "Joo Dee."

    "Perfect."

    The Princess pushes off from the desk, standing to her full height, hands brushing away at the wrinkles of her clothing. Any imperfections. Any flaws. There can be none; she must be perfect. She must be the image of the marble pillars that hold the palace from collapse, she must not falter or crack. For if she does, everything will crumble.

    She would do anything to keep that from happening. She would do anything to keep her home, this place and its people, from falling apart. From crumbling under the weight of the Fire Nation's pressure. She would do anything. She would bargain with Death for her people. She would shake Death's hand with a smile on her face if it meant that the world around her would live in the illusion of life and go into Death's awaiting arms in happiness. She would do whatever it took.

    "Thank you, Ailun."

    The boy bows once more before quickly exiting the room, leaving Lian with her thoughts and heart moving much too fast for her to even process the shake of her hands and the slight tremble of the earth beneath her feet. She inhales deeply, pulling the air into her lungs, feeling it settle within the cage that is her lungs. Suddenly, and without much grace, she can breathe. She can feel her fingertips and her toes, she can feel her chest expand and collapse. She can hear every noise and taste the world on her tongue.

    Looking back up, she finds her focus on the reflection in the mirror. Her reflection. Her face, which is so unlike her fathers, save for her eyes and hair, which is an exact copy of his own. Everything else, however, is her mother. Her mother whom she cannot name. Her mother whom she has never known.

    "Stop it," she mutters to herself. She pulls her attention from the mirror, from herself, and to the clothes that lay on her bed, the clothes that she has been told to wear to her fathers celebration for Bosco, his bear. She sighs and turns towards the clothes. They are shades of green, gold, and creams. Her personal colors—all that she had selected when she was much younger, just a kid.