Avatar The Last Airbender Fan Fiction ❯ Lucidus ❯ Preaching ( Chapter 1 )

An odd little AU. I blame Song of Magdalene. ((The story of Mary Magdalene and her life before she met the prophet. Written by Donna Jo Napoli. Personally, I'm pagan, but I understand the Christian religion far better than any of my Christian friends.))

This story is a bit strange. A bit off the Avatar universe, but still there, just not quite. Zuko's still in exile, the Fire Nation is still trying to take over the world, but the Avatar hasn't shown up yet, and Katara's a bit… different. Don't worry too much about it. You'll figure it out. You're much smarter than I give you credit for.

Lucidus is Latin which means “luminous” or “lucid.”

 

Lucidus

Chapter One: Preachers

 

Earth towns were strange things.

 

He's traveling in disguise, because otherwise he'd be recognized. He's traveling, though, and that's the problem. Because he should be home, home and preparing to leave, leave for battle, battle for the Fire Nation, the Fire Nation being his home.

 

But he was in the Earth Kingdom, and it was strange. He had dressed himself in a washed out tan, an unthreatening color, wary of his normal crimson robes, and clothes of any other color might strike suspicion. People stuck close to their own origins, but his origins were unwelcome, but he wasn't. He was accepted as another traveler, a traveler who did not want to be there, lest they saw it or not.

 

He did not want to be there.

 

But he kept going, straight through the town, and he ignored the looks. Looks of curiosity, wary looks, uncertain looks, and- he shivered unpleasantly at this- lustful looks. Girls of age seemed ready to flaunt, and a few flaunted around him, but he pushed them aside, just keep going, going, going…

 

Outside the town was a heavily treaded trail, ready for feet to brush upon it. Ahead he could see a crowd, men, women, children, some dressed in the natural green of the Earth Kingdoms, and some dressed in the deep blues of Water Tribes, and a few unhappy looking Fire Nation guards. He thought, best to avoid the crowd, best to keep going, to not be noticed, because that was the last thing he wanted.

 

But he noticed her.

 

She was dressed in a thousand different blues, dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she raised her arms high. She seemed in a trance, mouth open in a long hymn, eyes wide at the sky, unblinking, staring, gazing…

 

He paused and wafted closer. She stood atop a large rock, feet placed awkwardly to keep her standing. Two women leaned close to her, as if she'd gone into paralysis, but her arms came down quickly, making loud slapping noise as palms hit her skirt. She began speaking, low tones but fast speech. Everyone moved closer, and he did too, because she was entrancing. She sat, feet spread out as she made herself comfortable on the rock. The low light wrapped around her hair like a halo, and for a moment, he thought, she looked like a goddess.

 

Then he shakes his head and continued on, throwing quick glances to the guards. He has no time for silly girls telling stories; he had to continue on.

 

But his ears snatch a snippet of the girl's story, and he finds less lore and more fact.

 

“…The sun is there to be seen,” she says with a solid tone, yet it's whimsical in its own sense, “And the moon is there to hide.”

 

He pauses a moment longer and half-turns, as if he's going to stay, then he stops.

 

Because the guards are moving closer.

 

Their hands rest on their weapons, and he notices the crowd begin to thin. But she keeps going, paying no mind to the soldiers moving her way.

 

“The moon is a thing of beauty, of love, of life, but it's cycle speaks of man's own journey…”

 

He moves along with the soldiers, casually, as if the girl's words have drawn him in. Their swords rise from the sheath.

 

“…The odd beginning of mortality, but with death brings new life, because you're reborn again, and…”

 

He words trail off. Whether it's because she's noticed the soldiers moving closer or she's suddenly lost in her own world is unknown. There are the women at her feet, but she slowly stands, and now he's standing behind the women, a careful eye on the guards.

 

Her mouth opens uncertainly, as if the words are too large too fit between her lips, but she lets it slip out, slide like an eel from her tongue.

 

“…And you cannot bury the moon.”

 

The words are final as the first man grabs her. The women at her feet scream, and he jumps over them, grabbing her arm, thrusting her back.

 

He doesn't even realize what he's doing as he lands a kick onto the chest of the soldier, knocking him back into the second. His hand is still clasped on her arm and he pulls her along as he begins to run. He misses her wave to the now-thin crowd, a grin across her face.

 

He can hear the shout of the Fire soldiers behind him, but he just speeds up, keeping his face bent and low. She still behind him, running to keep up, because his grip just tightens and for some reason he doesn't let go. He feels the heat of a fireball and dodges it gracefully. She smiles even as it singes her robes.

 

There's a forest ahead, and he can hide there. Whatever the men wanted to kill her for, it's not enough to follow too far. Just to be safe, though, he diverges from the path, and she giggles as the tree limbs reach to grab her loose hair. He stops suddenly, and she rams herself into him, still going with the momentum. He flails forward and lands in a shallow stream. She bends down beside him, brushing out branches and touching the burnt skirt.

 

“Thank you,” she says brightly, and he glares at her. But she doesn't notice. She pulls a knife from within boots two sizes too big that look old and slimy even if they weren't wet. She takes it and bites into the fabric of the skirt, ripping up to her thigh. He blinks quickly, looking away, but she's laughing. She's wearing trousers beneath her skirt, ones he couldn't see before. But now he does and he sits up, kneeling before the river.

 

“What were you doing?” he asks, words slipping from his mouth before he could catch them.

 

“I was preaching,” she answers simply, ripping off the skirt in a movement that stills bring a blush to his face, no matter how much she wears beneath.

 

“Preaching what?”

 

He's confused. What needed to be preached, he did not know, but she was filled with an enthusiasm for it, and that was reason enough to learn.

 

“I'm thinking of starting a religion.”

 

She answered in a funny little way, like it was brought up in conversation every day. He started, turning to her.

 

“Why would you do that?”

 

Because she was so intriguing, he couldn't help but ask questions. Otherwise, he might say something stupid.

 

She stared at him with a strange gaze, leaning forward to meet him only inches away. Her hands moved to touch the side of his face, and he pulled away, standing quickly.

 

“I helped you,” he said sharply, and he could see his face fall. “You can go your own way.”

 

“But…” Her protest falls short before she can even speak it. Slowly she stands up, dropping the dead skirt into the river.

 

She's only an inch below his height, her frazzled hair around her like a wild animal's.

 

“But…” Her mind is thinking of an excuse, and she places her palm's flat against his chest. Just because she likes to see his face heat up. “But you saved me. I need to repay you.”

 

What she doesn't tell him is that she was ready to save herself.

 

He steps back uncertainly, and she smiles at him. “Where are you going?”

 

He starts again, his footing unsure. “What… What do you care?”

 

“Where are you going?” she presses, closing the space between them.

 

He definitely had not expected this, but the entire trip was unexpected.

 

“Where are you going?” A finality in her voice; she wouldn't ask again, liking a mother scolding her children.

 

“I'm…” He thought a moment. Where was he going? Nowhere. Wherever he could… “I'm not sure.”

 

“Good.” She grabs his arm and begins to walk along the stream. “We can go there together. I need a bodyguard and you…” She paused to look at him, one eyebrow arched, and he felt a sudden self-consciousness. “You need help.”

 

He shakes his head at her but lets her lead, because he thinks he can ditch her anyway. Her fingers are cool against his skin, and her long hair brushes his wrist.

 

“What's your name?” she asks off-handedly, as if she didn't mind if they stayed strangers. He'd rather that. But he gives his name, because she doesn't seem like the type of girl to know exactly who he was.

 

“Zuko,” he answers, letting her fingers slip from his. “Might I know yours?”

 

Her voice falters as she speaks it, as if she's not used to it being spoken. She seems like she should be a different person, as if there's something he's missing in the single moment her name is spoken, and he listens with rapt attention to hear it all, all three syllables, and the weight of it heavy on her tongue.

 

“Katara.”

 

Authoress Notes:

That's the beginning.

I was reading Tempest in a Teacup (or something to that esteem), and there was a chapter about a king falling in love with the moon, and I had an idea.

A muse speaks into my ear, but it's a new one, and it killed the old.

So, I kinda switched between present and past tense. I'm sorry about that. I'm too lazy to fix it, and it kinda adds, doesn't it?

I have to go finish my Romeo and Juliet project. I get to rewrite the ending. Ha! Romeo loves other men!

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