MOONRISE KINGDOM

i.

dirt-stained cloaks and empty growls. the ex-prince was not naked—his sun - kissed skin not completely bare, and yet, his unwavering paranoia told him otherwise.

unmoving, zuko sat perched on the edge of a coppery - coated cliff that overlooked the entirety of the outer wall.

to an innocent onlooker, the boy would have looked numb — one could say tranquil, even — with legs crossed under him, and eyelids shut loosely as if in deep meditation.

on the inside, however, his conscience clashed swords.

🌙

the first time zuko stopped — when he finally allowed his limbs and mind to be at rest — was when he took the time to notice the fiery ball of emotion that cried out to him.

the rays of the ba sing sun enveloped the prince in an embrace of warmth, softness, and something else — a feeling that was foreign; unfamiliar, yet welcoming at the same time. it could only be associated with one thing. or person.

his mother.

zuko's stomach ached in hunger, his heart in pain. it was as if someone had gouged him in the gut — slowly, twisting; turning, again, and again, and again.

(through his vermillion-clouded vision, he struggled to make out her features.)

the anguish had always been there, the lost boy realized. it was just that he had learned to not overcome, but ignore it.

(he didn't want her to become another face lost in the abyss of memory.)

until then.

(high, defined cheekbones moulded into rounded flesh, / mellifluous murmurs of consolation into echoes of something so close, yet so very far. he could not remember, but he knew.)

zuko opened his eyes, his doubts and despair apparent through the reflection of his pupils. and for a moment, all his troubles and nefarious thoughts — all his babbling demons that resided in the depths of his skull quieted down for a moment.

(she was beautiful. she was beautiful. she was. she —)

just once. a moment. his shield had been lowered, and his raw emotion began to take form.

just once, zuko would allow himself.

allow what? his mind chided. you mustn't, his mind moaned. you can't, you can't, you can't.

zuko wanted to explode, explode, explode. he wanted to erupt into molten pieces of self - regret, melancholy, hate, and hate, and hate.

he hated it.

he hated himself. he hated who he was. he hated who they made him to be. he hated and hated and —

he let out a shaky breath, his chest constricting.

no, no, no.

you mustn't, you shan't, you can't.

royalty do not scream. men do not cry.

don't show weakness. you can't. you can't.

but zuko didn't listen, zuko didn't care. he was tired — oh, so tired. he wanted to plunge into a blanket of nihility, completely devoid of all emotion. he wanted it to be simple.

but unfortunately, it could not be so.

contrary to popular belief, zuko was not a man nor prince nor savage beast. he was simply human. and so, like most humans would when faced with such helplessness and despair, he screamed. he cried. and oh, agni, he cried an ugly cry. the salty tears and snot evaporated with a small hiss the moment they touched his rosy cheeks.

just for a moment.

and then, it was over. his walls towered around him once more, jabbing irons bars crowned atop them, shining menacingly; tauntingly, as if daring one to come near, to test their luck. . .

a voice in the back of his head, behind all of his anger and sadness and hurt, told him that he should have embraced it all; the warmth of the burning star, her calling, the nostalgia that felt like a stone lodged in his throat. he should have listened to it. he should have believed it.

perhaps if he had, something beautiful would have bloomed as a result. a different zuko. a better one.

perhaps.

instead, the exiled prince, declining the sun god's call, had shivered.

he could no help but wonder, though: did a different zuko necessarily mean a better one? did such a zuko exist?

perhaps he would never know. and perhaps he didn't want to.

the boy rested his lids once more.

the sun sunk into the horizon, and with it, the warmth he had felt prior began to dissipate — as did his worked - up rage.

zuko peered down at the patch of habited land that he would inevitably have to visit. the lines of his mouth turned downward.

the wind whistled, and the trees swayed softly to its tune. in contrast to the radiating sun, the moon goddess had a certain coldness to her.

the exiled prince laid with his back pressed against the large rock. he focused on the crevices of the pearl, half-full moon. it was as if she was sneering at him in disgust; mocking the exiled boy for showing weakness, even if just for a moment.

he shrunk into the red dust.

the stars did not make an appearance that night, as if some god feared for the wrath of the lonesome, pathetic boy.

zuko scowled at himself for having such a thought, then at the sea of starless skies for simply being.

the fire bender wrapped his arms around himself as his stomach complained once again. zuko let out a hot breath. he felt his life ebbing away under the scrutinizing gaze of the half moon, melting as he went limp on the granite floor, as if finally accepting his bitter reality. at last.

the reality?
while the ex-prince had his cloak tightly coiled around him, he had nothing else. no dignity, no place to call home; nothing, and no one. exposed and vulnerable, zuko truly was naked then.