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Fire and Rain	By : Keyriethenightbringer Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > AU/AR - Alternate Universe/Alternate Reality > Het- Male/Female Views: 2034 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: ATLA and its characters do not belong to me. I make no money from this work.

Chapter List
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Iroh had always thought waterbending looked like dancing, but this woman had turned it into an art. Not woman, girl, he chided himself; she looked within shouting distance of Zuko’s age. Her movements, as gentle and fluid as the water she spun above her head, were lovely to watch. And to complement that, she knew how to put herself on display.
He let his mind fall into two halves. One studied her body as a master monitors a student. He watched the muscles move and shift, watched the chi flow up her core through her arms and out her hands into the water. Each twitch of a muscle on her barely-clothed body had an answering motion in the water. The woman—girl—had the finesse and control of a bender double her age, but the flexibility and adaptability of a child just learning, and she knew it. And used it.
            The other half of Iroh’s mind enjoyed the pure spectacle of her. Immensely.
            Only having a narrow strip of braided green cloth to cover her small but well-shaped bosom and a gauzy translucent skirt to cover an incredibly skimpy loincloth, there was a lot of her for Iroh to enjoy. Bending and the bloom of youth had kept her slim but well-muscled. She had a north Water Tribe face: broad, high cheekbones curving into a small chin with a broad nose and large, expressive crystal blue eyes. She kept her dark hair up in a traditional bun, but Iroh imagined it would be long, fragrant and curly when let down.
            He briefly wondered why a bender of such skill was dancing on a streetcorner, but wasn’t complaining. He also wondered if she would ever consent to augment his limited knowledge of waterbending techniques. On the heels of that thought came a less innocent one: would she ever augment his limited knowledge of her?
            No, he thought not. This girl looked twenty-five, if that. She’d be more suited to Zuko.
            Iroh glanced sideways at his nephew. He stared straight ahead, not at the dancing girl but through her. What Iroh thought of as Zuko’s default expression sat like a cloud on his face: three worry lines struck across his forehead, brow thunderously furrowed, mouth curved down like a strung bow. He furrowed his own much-lined brow. He worried greatly for the boy. He wasn’t resentful of his brother Ozai for exiling him and Zuko, but regretful. Regretful that it caused his nephew so much heartache. Though Zuko had commanded a ship, traveled the world, saved a life and captured the Avatar twice by the age of 16, he had necessarily lost his youth. Iroh feared he would become what Ozai was and worse: spiteful, jealous, vengeful and bitter. Iroh renewed his resolve to be Zuko’s father-in-exile as long as the boy needed him.
            The drumbeat became quicker and throatier. Iroh’s attention was drawn back to the dancing girl and remained rooted there as she leapt, twirled and shook what her mother so graciously gave her.
            “Uncle, let’s go. We’re getting stares.”
            Iroh remembered Zhao had sent out wanted posters; he could disappear into anonymity more easily than his scarred nephew could. Still, he regretted leaving the beautiful young waterbender.
            “In a moment, Zuko. I’m enjoying this music.”
             Zuko grumbled, casting furtive sideways glances.
            The drums beat faster; the girl pinwheeled her arms in a splendid arc, the water shooting sparks of sunlight into the crowd’s eyes. As the music reached a crescendo, she formed her arms as if she held a bow, her back mightily arched, and pointed the water arrow straight at Iroh.
            Threat, he thought instantly. Neutralize threat. Even after he caught the wink she tipped him, the heat was still boiling in his balled fists. Telltale tendrils of steam rose from Zuko’s as well.
            The music stopped. The dancer pointed her arrow at the sky, let fly. In one sweeping motion she bent it back down and it sprinkled Iroh, Zuko and the two watchers closest to them.
             Amid hearty applause from the crowd (which had doubled in size since Iroh and Zuko joined), the dancer took her bows and flitted off stage. Zuko slipped into the departing, chattering crowd ahead of Iroh, pulling a cowl over his eyes. Iroh followed his nephew at a more leisurely pace. He breathed deep of the day and admired the warm sunlight, cool breeze, the happy marketplace crowd…
             “Hey, thanks for being a good sport earlier.”
              Iroh didn’t register that the voice was directed at him until the dancing girl appeared beside him with a loose, long tunic over her costume and a companionable smile. He, surprised but very pleased, returned the smile.
              “I normally pick someone out and warn them before the show, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”
               “Not at all. I enjoyed the show very much. You’re a very talented bender.”
               She dipped her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. “Thank you. May I ask a question?” A curious spark flashed in her eyes.
            “Of course.”
            She leaned closer, close enough for him to catch a trace of the jasmine-scented oil she wore. It smelled almost as good as tea. “You’re General Iroh of the Fire Nation, aren’t you?” She whispered.
            He didn’t let his face register surprise, but the girl’s bluntness caught him off guard. Why did she ask? What did she want? He studied her face and decided that the glint in her liquid blue eyes was benign. At least he hoped it was.
            “Yes,” he said softly, simply.
            She nodded. “The young man beside you was Prince Zuko?”
            He nodded. In his mind he zipped through her possible motives, his possible escape routes. If it came to that. He hoped it didn’t.
            She nodded again. “That’s how I guessed. A scar like that’s hard to hide.”
            “They did good work on those wanted posters.” Hidden in his sleeves, his hands began to heat and glow.
            She chuckled, a lovely, musical sound. “They did. Mine’ll probably be up soon.”
            Iroh pulled the fire back into him. “Oh?”
            “Come have tea with me. We’ll talk one wanted criminal to another. Oh, invite Prince Zuko, wherever he is.”
            She had him at tea.
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Fire and Rain