Of Akela and her Dragon (discontinued)

Gone with the Light.

Five years ago

Chirwol (July)

1st

Akela PoV, age 10:

"What do you mean?" came my father's voice, harsh, angry just as he has become in the last two years, ever since my parent's relationship began to deteriorate.  I had come to ask my mother a question about my lessons, but it appeared that the queen was already in audience.  "You heard me, Synar."  my mother's voice was sharp.  I blinked.  I had never heard her use this voice.  

"Numa, think about the talk!" my father begged.

"I don't care." came the cold reply. 

"If you do this Numa, I will leave you." he threatened.  I stifled a gasp.  

I felt suddenly hollow.  I felt like I had fallen out of one of the great cherry trees.  As if all the breathe had been knocked—no, stolen from my lungs.  I wanted to charge in there and make him take it back.  My heart ached, my eyes burned, and my stomach dropped to my toes.  

and then there came the most brutal blow.  My mother said; "Then leave, Synar."

5th

Akela PoV, age 11:

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The repetitive sounds echoed painfully loud in my ears.  I pulled my siblings close to me.  We sat in the antechamber of my mother's room.  Aang and Kamaya sat one on either side of me, with their feet curled under themselves.  I was worried.

Ever since my father left on the second, my family had faded to nothing but quiet shadows, and my mother's health has been deteriorating rapidly.  It wasn't fair.  None of it was fair.  he wasn't kind, but he was our father.  He was a part of our family, and he just... left us.  And our mother let him.  In fact, she told him to.  It hurt.  No, it burned.  And the more I thought about it, the more it burned.  like a fire.  All white-hot flames, all fire, and no calm.  All howling gales and no stability.  I was angry. 

A sound of footsteps echos through the halls, growing louder and cutting off my thoughts.  I look up to the physician, who entered with monk Gyatso.  They were talking in low voices, sorrow etched into every line on their faces.  I shake off my siblings gently, leaping up.  the two men turn to us, brows lowering in pity. 

"well?" I asked, the poorly restrained anger clear in my voice.  

the two men share a look.  the Physician nods to Gyatso, before turning to walk out the door.  

Monk Gyatso turned to us.  "your mother wants to speak with you.  before you three go in, I want to talk with you, Crown Princess." 

I nod, tell my sibling to stay where they are, then follow my godfather through the glass doors.  I step out onto the balcony.  he stands there, looking out onto the temple.  

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked after a respectful silence.  

"You're angry with your mother, aren't you, Akela?" He asks after yet another silence has stretched out too long.

I step up next to him at the rail, folding my hands over one another on the firm stone.  "Yes, I suppose I am."

He gave me an appraising look, before turning his attention back to the activity below us in the temple.  "My best advice to you for life is this: learn to let go and forgive.  You will struggle with this, and I want you to know that you have fire in you.  It's not something to be ashamed of or to be hidden.  It is something to be nurtured, as a hearth fire.  I know it will be tempting to let it loose, to roam.  To feel free.  But we are not the sole focus of our own lives.  A hearth fire warms and feeds.  It heals and it binds people together.  Don't use your fire as a weapon.  It isn't what it was given for.  We are not warmongers, Akela.  We are healers and philosophers.  However, when we do fight, we fight to preserve life.  Not to take it."  He looked me in the eyes.  "Do you understand?"