Mercy (Zuko)

Chapter Eleven: The Longing

"Does this time of day ever feel... different to you?"

I feel Zuko's gaze turn toward my face when I speak. The water looks alive with the reds and yellows of duskfall, glittering across the waves like the sparks of a fire.

I've settled in comfortably on Prince Zuko's ship during the weeks I've been here, and we've fallen into a rhythm with each other. Every day we spar, and Iroh even says I've been getting decent at it. Zuko, though, continues to offer detailed criticism every chance he gets. But I think he means well.

This, however, is out of our norm. This is not part of our rhythm, yet this moment sings so beautifully; perfectly in harmony.

"It's almost sort of sad," I murmur. "Something about it is just kind of..." I trail off, searching for the right word as I stare across the waves at the sinking sun.

"Lonely," Zuko answers.

I turn to look at him, and he holds my gaze for a long, hanging second before looking back over the water. The light casts shadows across his angular face, and his golden eyes seem to dance in its glow. Strands of my hair blow across my face and I blink.

"Yeah."

My eyes flutter open. I'm warm and the air is still; somehow that disappoints me.

It was a dream...

Despite the dull ache in my head, I feel rested. I push myself up to lean back on my forearms as I take in my surroundings. I recognize the soft blues and grays of Northern Water Tribe huts; kindling burns in a stone fire pit near me, keeping me warm, and light filters in from somewhere beyond.

The sound of crunching footsteps grow louder and someone pulls back the tent flap and ducks inside. It's an older woman with a soft face. She's almost familiar.

"Oh," she gasps in surprise. "You're awake, that's excellent." She gives me a gentle smile and comes over to my bedside. She kneels before me and draws up a stream of water, letting it glow as it covers her hands. She examines me briefly before saying, "Everything seems alright. How are you feeling?"

My arms shake as I push myself up further, and her warm hand supports my back. Why do I feel so weak?

"I feel fine," I say, my voice coming out croakier than I anticipated. "How long have I been...?" Asleep? Unconscious?

Her eyebrows pinch together slightly as pity floods her gaze. "You needed the rest, dear. It looks like you've been through a lot."

Needed the rest...? My heart flies into my throat as everything suddenly rushes back to me, and the healer's hands try to stop me from jumping out of my cot. Thick socks cover my feet and they've taken away the clothes I had been living in for the past however-long and replaced them with fresh pants and a tunic. Someone's unbraided my hair and perhaps if I were less frantic I would've re-plaited it.

"Where are you going?" I hear the healer cry after me as I tear out of the hut.

The snow blinds me for a second before my vision clears.

It's like nothing's changed.

Everything is how I remember it — how I pictured it every night I lay awake; clear blue skies and the bright sun beaming down on the pristine snow of the village; huts and igloos dotting the landscape and large snowy walls towering high to surround the tribe with protection.

Barely familiar faces gape and gawk at me as I stumble out into the cold, but I don't pause to try to put any names to those faces. The one thing I do remember for certain, however, is the Royal Palace of the Northern Water Tribe — but it's hard to forget it with the way it looms over everything else.