The Blood Red Son

by Lizzy__Jaeger

Summary:

She had never smiled, never hugged him or called him hers or her son until that day, when she smiled wide and her eyes lit up bright. Warm, instead of cold as ice--part of the element she was born to.

She only called him 'Child' and 'Boy' until that day, and he never understood why until he was much older. Never quite understood why she yelled at him half the time or struck him.

"You are my son, instead of his." She had said, her eyes seeming to become much brighter in that instance, a flash of teeth to her smile.

He didn't quite understand her meaning then either, until much later in life.

Or: My take on the Mother Hama AU (without Hama, I guess)

Notes:

• For MuffinLance.

I wasn't sure about trying to write for Hama and Zuko, then thought "Hey what of the bloodbender had a kid and-" so this is how this little series came to be, and before I knew it I had about two fics outlined in a notebook on my own little twist to this wonderful au made by MuffinLance.

The ocs mentioned for the Fire Nation Royal family that come up at a later date are based on an rp between me and a friend, so this is basically an au in an au...in an au, I guess lol.

Chapter 1: Eyes of Storms and Fire

He was five when he started to bend by accident. He was five when he finally got his name.

She had never smiled, never hugged him or called him her's or her son until that day, when she smiled wide and her eyes lit up bright. Warm, instead of cold as ice--part of the element she was born to.

She only called him 'Child' and 'Boy' until that day, and he never understood why until he was much older. Never quite understood why she yelled at him half the time or struck him.

"You are my son, instead of his." She had said, her eyes seeming to become much brighter in that instance, a flash of teeth to her smile.

He didn't quite understand her meaning then either, until much later in life.

She didn't start training him until he was around ten years old. She proved to be a very strict teacher, but he proved to be a student who adapted as quickly as he was able.

Her most important lesson didn't come until he was fifteen. That there was water in everything on the earth: in the air, in the plants and trees, in animals and in people.

In their blood.

He first bloodbent at sixteen, on a lizard dog. The lizard dog had fought back for control, and with one wrong flick of his hand the mutt's leg snapped as it leg jerked in the wrong direction. His control slipped, and he stared wide eyed as the beast suffered and fell to the ground like a puppet without it's strings, crying out in pain.

"Tarkik, you almost had it." His mother had sighed, shaking her head with a disappointed click of her tongue, before she moved her fingers like a skittering roach-spider and wrenched the beasts head at an unnatural angle, snapping it's neck and ending it's suffering in quick succession.

"That's enough for today, go wash up and get ready for dinner." She spoke cooly, her eyes on him. Blank, unreadable. A guilt free expression. He met her eyes with his own wide ones, feeling frozen to the spot momentarily.

"Yes, Ma." He spoke, quiet, as he stared at the lizard dog's body one last time before doing as he was told. He didn't feel like eating.

His first real lesson in bloodbending--in bloodbending people--came when he was nearly seventeen. Months after the incident with the lizard dog.

The young man's screams and pleas wouldn't leave him, and a part of him felt a little sick that he took such joy on the proud smile on his mother's face.

She kept teaching him, well until he was on his thirty-fifth...or was it thirty-sixth summer? Strangers to the village would stay with them, people from neighboring villages or islands, those who did not settle down or plant roots, those who would simply vanish and never be heard from again on a full moon.

One day she told him she had no more to teach him of their ways, of the bending she had discovered, or of his people. She wanted him to marry one day and pass it on. Then the war ended and both mother and son heard news of a new Fire Lord taking the throne.

They did not keep close tabs on the war other than the occasional muttering from villagers of troops being brought to bases or strongholds or taverns in nearby villages, villagers who wondered if soldiers would begin occupying their village or come to take their sons amd husbands away to join the fight. They didn't hear of the Avatar's return, they didn't hear of who the Fire Lord took as his Fire Lady, didn't know their names. Didn't know that the man on the throne wasn't of the royal bloodline that had started the war, nor that his Fire Lady was from one of the Watertribes. Word didn't travel too quickly to their secluded village, their forgotten village.

"We will snuff out their flames. All of them." His mother had hissed with venomous ferocity, pacing the floor and not at all looking her age as her anger made her movements quick, angry, her barely contained rage making her limbs shake.

"I should of gone to the Caldera and simply wiped them all out before things have gotten this far...it's their fault that I can't go back, that I can't let you see the beauty of our home--" she sucked in a sharp breath here, eyes squeezed shut. They both knew that wouldn't have happened, no matter how powerful she was, she would've died trying.

"Ma?" Tarkik called, hesitant with his words as he placed a hand on her back. When she didn't pull away, he pulled her into an embrace. He was older, taller. A man of nearly six feet, broad shouldered with large hands that were lightly scarred from doing most of the repairs to their old inn turned home. Tan, his eyes the color of storm clouds over blue waters. His hair was black, reaching his shoulders with it currently pulled back into a messy unkempt bun, with two braids framing the right side of his face that had strips of blue fabric woven into them.

In plubic, he wore a simple topknot and kept the fabric out of his hair, his mother had stressed about appearing like one of them when he was younger, she even went so far as to call him Lee around village natives. They couldn't know they were Watertribe in public, but he could wear his hair however he wished when in the privacy of their home with no guests around.

 

"I can barely remember it now, Tarkik…my home, our home." his mother whispered into his chest as he awkwardly hugged her. Neither could even remember if this was the first hug they'd shared.

"People forget when they're old, it's normal ain't it?" He replied with a furrowed brow as she suddenly pulled away to scowl up at him. He flinched when she smacked his arm, lip curled as she clearly took offense.

"Old? Old?! I am not that old to start going senile, Tarkik." She hissed out like a rattle-possum, bristling as she turned.

"I'm heading to bed, goodnight." She said it in a clipped tone, ending the conversation there as she went to her room. Later Tarkik would eventually realize that on some nights she would take trips to the Caldera by foot while he slept like a rock, walk the number of miles between their town and the capital and would simply watch the castle from a distance, from the shadows and come up with a myriad of ways to exact revenge against the nation and the royal family.

 

She'd write these things down in an old, leather bound book no bigger than a pamphlet, a diary of sorts she kept hidden in one of the loose floorboards of the kitchen.

One night, on his forty-third or forty-fourth summer, with the moon full in the sky, on one of her trips she witnessed a man leave the palace, and then an unlikely opportunity presented itself.

When Tarkik woke at sunrise, his mother had just returned home grinning like a Pygmy Puma that had just caught a viper rat in it's teeth. With her was a child no more than eight, staring back at him with wide golden eyes and a pale, sickly face. Their eyes were bright. The eyes of Fire.

"Tarkik, say hello to your new brother." Her grin grew wider, a bright glint in her eyes; something like madness had taken hold of her as she held the boy's shoulder in a white knuckled grip, despite her other hands twitching fingers as she controlled the very blood in his small body.

Chapter 2: Keep Your Faith

Summary:

Uzuri's gotten himself in quite a mess. He'll keep his faith in Agni, and in his Mother, but he's got to have faith in his own abilities and strengths as well...

Notes:

This chapter was a struggle to write, and there wasa lot of on and off on working on it, especially after a family member passed last month, so I lost a bit of drive for writing for a moment. I decided to add a little to the end and post it.

Uzuri wished he had stayed in the palace, wished greatly that he hadn't tried to follow his father after he left the palace walls. He was seven and scared of the fact that he hadn't been able to control his own body in the past couple of hours.

His eyes flickered from the mountain of a man to the short old lady who he was convinced was a Witch from a Spirit Tale. Her hand was still on his shoulder, and her other was still doing the weird movements that apparently made him unable to turn and run back home, or try to fight her off and get away from this place.

 

"Ma, what did you do?" Tarkik spoke quietly as he eyed the child with a frown, missing the way his mother's smile faltered.

"Showing the royal family that they deserve to feel what they've made others feel, so why not simply take one of their own?" She hummed, giving a tilt of her head as her eyes narrowed.

"I don't get how calling him my brother accomplishes that, plus this may be the first village they look for him--" Tarkik started, only to be waved off as his mother finally released her control on the child next to her. Said child gasped and slumped, his body folding into itself like wet paper as his knees hit the group with a thunk followed by the floor being stained in the kid's dinner coming back up.

Tarkik took a step back, while his mother simply clicked her tongue in distaste as the hand that once gripped the child's shoulder was still in the air.

"Clean it up while I take little Uzuri here to his room." She sighed, causing Tarkik's head to snap up.

"Uzu-" he began to question, but the child on the floor tried to spring up and sent a punch to the elderly woman, smoke and sparks coming from his shaking fist. Both mother and son gave cries of surprise as the older of the two quickly took control of the boy with such force he nearly choked on his own blood.

"You little weasle-snake!" She roared, bringing the boy to his knees roughly as he gasped for air.

"Ma, stop!" Tarkik called in alarm as his wide eyes met her too bright ones. She snarled but eased her control on Uzuri, just slightly, as the boy cried and wheezed.

"Are you sympathizing with this little ash maker?" She asked coldly, eyebrows raising as she kept her wide eyed stare on her son.

"What? Ma, he's just a scared kid, I--" he blurted out the first words that came to his mind, thoughts racing as he tried to explain himself, but was quickly cut off, his mother's eyes fierce and angry as she scowled with bared teeth.

"Shut up, Tarkik. Clean this up like I said and I'll get this little ash maker settled. It seems I have some more things to teach you, my poor slow minded boy." She huffed, making Uzuri get to his feet and march his way to a room down the hall. Tarkik stared after her, mouth agape and speechless.

Why was he surprised? That wasn't even close to the meanest thing she said to him. Wordlessly, he started cleaning. Would it be wrong of him to send a small prayer to Tui for the boy? Would that make him a sympathizer?

 

Inside the room, Uzuri's eyes took in the space. A small dirtied excuse for a futon, one that hadn't been used in who knew how long, a chain laid on one corner of it, and as his eyes trailed it's winding path he came to realize that said chain of lightly rusted metal was bolted to the wooden floorboards. Likely and addition to the house they added themselves.

The young Prince's stomach dropped to the bottom of his feet at the thought of someone being chained in this room and left here. He swallowed thickly, throat burning with the taste of iron and the contents of his stomach from moments before, his eyes traveled to the window, the thick black blanket acting as a thick curtain had a few patches of lighter cloth, gray as soot and stone sewn in, in some places as if the woman made it herself with her own hands. Uzuri wasn't sure where she got a cloth so thick, but he suspect it was there to keep the room poorly lit if not block the sun all together.

The only furniture in the room was a single wooden chair. The quiet in the room was thick and almost suffocating for the young boy.

"Well? This will be your new room from now on, my Little Soldier." The Witch smiled wide as she made him walk to the bed and sit on his knees, forcing his fingers to grab the blanket obscuring what lied at the end of the winding chains. Pulling it back revealed a shackle that definitely was too big for his small thin wrists or ankles based on one glance alone.

"Hmm, too small, but perhaps we can get this to still work?" The Witch grinned still, eyes alight and making Uzuri's heart pound in his ears and a throb pulse behind his eyes to the point they ached. Her control on him lessened, but wasn't gone completely, he could still feel it in his twitching aching muscles.

"I won't try and run. I'll be good, you don't have to make me put it on." He gasped out, eyes welling up with tears. The Witch slowly shook her head as her smile morphed into a scowl then, clicking her tongue in distaste.

"Do you think I'm dumb, little Uzuri? After that stunt you pulled I think you deserve a punishment, yes? I can tell just looking into your eyes, you're clever as an opposum-bat, boy. As clever as you are though, your flame isn't strong enough to even stand a chance against me and my ilk. You need proper disipline...a Mother's touch, a Mother's guidance to the right path perhaps." She looked thoughtful as she spoke, cold, before her hand shot out and grabbed a handful of dark locks and pulled until Uzuri's head was tilted back and he whimpered, trying to curl into himself and become smaller.

"You are going to wrap up your foot in the sheet, then you're going to put on that shackle nice and snug, and then you're going to sit here and consider your options: listen to me and obey like a good little boy, or you will end up all alone in a dark scary place where not even the sun's warmth can reach you. Do you understand, little Uzuri?" She continued, raising her eyebrow a moment later.

"Yes ma'am." The young boy whispered fearfully as he stared at her wide eyes. Once the woman let go of his hair and stepped back, she finally released her control over him and he could move freely no matter how much it ached to the bone.

She watched like a hawk as he did as instructed, and once satisfied, she told him to wait, and left the room.

Uzuri tried to take deep breaths like his mother taught him, told himself over and over and over in his head that she'd find him if he didn't find a way out of here soon. That she'd have to find him, no matter how much he wanted to cry and couldn't stop his stomach from hurting or how much he wanted to curl up and sleep cause he didn't feel good.

After what was only a few minutes she came back with some rope, smiling brightly when she saw that the boy hadn't so much as moved since she left.

"Hold out your hands. Don't want you to try anymore tricks after all." She spoke with a chipper tone as she strode over. Uzuri didn't move for a moment.

"I'll be good, I promise--" he choked on a sob, but she quickly cut him off with a sharp sigh.

"Trust is earned, child, and your promises mean nothing to me right now. You're just a danger to us and yourself! The quicker you behave, the quicker you'll have your hands freed. If I really wanted to, y'know...I could remove your hands myself." She hummed thoughtfully. Her eyes gleamed in satisfaction at the boy's flinch, as he paled considerably at her words. Served the little ash maker right.

Shakily, he held out his hands, and she set about tying them. The rope dug into his skin, but he bit his lip and tried to endure it. Even as his vision blurred from tears with the effort.

"Sleep tight, but know that if you misbehave I'll...no, tomorrow….yes, tomorrow I'll show you where you'll be spending time out if you misbehave again." She grinned, manic. A chill went down Uzuri's spine, a sense of dread and foreboding settling in his gut as she turned and left the room. Once the door was closed behind her, all he heard was the muffled voices of her and that man.

He tried to keep his breathing under control, feeling deep within himself for the inner flame his mother said all Firebenders had within them. It was comforting, warm, soothing, if small.

'Agni, please, please let Momma find me. I beg you.' He thought, as tears ran down his cheeks. Laying down, exhaustion took hold and the world faded around him. He'd rest, and if the opportunity presented itself, he'd try to return to his mother, or at the very least, leave her a trail to follow.

Notes:

I'm still gonna try and finish Uzuri and Tarkik's stories, but I gotta go back to work this Monday night so chances are updates will probably be slower than they already have been.

Notes:

Leave kudos, comments, let me know what you guys think! This is written for fun mostly, as well as a bit of an exercise I guess.

There's probably some spelling and grammar mistakes too, so if there are that's my bad.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of The Bloody Sun