—the primrose path

One. Every Inch a King ~ as written by itsallanoxymoron and thekidthatcould

"What, pray tell, is so disturbing that I cannot get my sleep?" He lies in the royal four-poster bed, the closed curtains claim the ungodly hour. Mako has never liked the darkness, even at the best of times, which seems odd.

"Prince Mako, sir," murmurs the woman in a gentle, soothing tone—head bent, hands folded in a subtle, subordinate suggestion. "Your father's illness has yet to be determined, but Doctor Sato holds to the notion that it is quite serious. It is in the king's best interests that he be put on bed rest for at least a month."

Mako closes his eyes, exhaling. Sleep was what he needed. Right now. At this very instant. Last night had been a night to remember—ironic, because he couldn't remember a single bit of it. He had downed a considerable amount of mead anyway. The act hadn't surprised his father in the slightest.

When he opens them in the next moment, the nurse is gone, and he continues on with his naked slumber. He dreams of a girl, and a pool filled with thin noodles. He has no idea why, but he pays more attention to the noodles. He swims in the pasta, and when he gets out, the girl is gone, and all of his teeth have fallen out.

Mako jolts awake from this unusual nightmare, and sprawls out across his large bed, made up of geese feathers and the finest silk. Sitting up, he sighs, realizing that he is finally and actually awake, that his nightmare was just a figment of his imagination and his teeth are still (thankfully) in his mouth. Imagine the talk of a prince with no teeth!

The prince gets up, walking across his spacious room, buck nude. He goes to his wardrobe, plucking out a red silk robe and slipping it on. Tying the sash that fastens the robe to his hips, he decides to head to the dining room first.

It's strange, he thinks, how the house is so quiet. Normally, maids and servants and butlers would be bustling around, but not this morning. Or late afternoon. It's awkwardly quiet when Mako sits down at the long dining room table and no one, not even his father's favorite maid appears, asking him what he wants.

"Father!" the firebender calls, running a hand through his bed-head. "Father!" he calls once more, but once again, there is no response. He hears hushed footsteps near him, and turns, seeing his male advisor next to him. Mako is glad that there is finally someone here—someone who seems to always know what is going on.

"Dear Prince," his advisor starts, tilting her head, scrolls in one arm, "have thy not heard the news?"

Mako narrows his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing, "No. . . I do not believe I have. . ."

"Your father is bed-ridden, sick with a sort of . . . illness of which I am not aware, unfortunately."

Mako is quiet, staring blankly at his advisor as he realizes what she is saying. "Who claims this . . . this news?"

"Doctor Asami Sato, dear Prince."

Mako blinks, and knows that the news must be true. Asami Sato is the best doctor around. The kingdom was lucky to have her.

Mako is the king of the United Republic, as of now—for a sick father is one matter, but a sick king is a different and more pressing one entirely.

"As thy counselor, Prince Mako, I advise thee to send word to the other nobles."

"What doth trouble thee?" asks the girl, rubbing the man's shoulders in such a manner as to relieve tension in said area. "Perhaps it is the leopard-seal hunting again? You needn't worry—there is plenty."

Amon sighs deeply, closing his eyes. "It is the United Republic—their king, and what may be their only hope, has fallen severely ill. The greatest doctors and healers know not how to mend him. I fear the man's son, by the current title of Prince Mako, is an unfit ruler, for when I last met him he was a troublesome adolescent with no motherly figure aside from the nanny. It is quite probable that he shall revel in his power and ignore completely his responsibilities as a ruler." The king sinks lower into the upholstery, as though the act itself shall cause his being to mix with the piece of furniture, free of anxiety.

"Thou needn't worry so much, my Noatok. Focus instead on the bounty of both your tribe's hunts—enough food to send to the other nations. Cast out United Republic from your mind for now, and plan for Winter Solstice, which is certain to be a celebration for the ages."

He relaxes under her touch. "Alas, there is another matter on which I wish to discuss, Noa. I—well, I am to leave soon, to travel the world. I meant to warn you sooner, but with news of Prince Mako I fear I must leave more quickly than I had hoped.

"The world—they need their savior. You must understand! I do not wish to leave you or my people here, but there are others in need of me."

Amon nods, but tenses again. Fragile topics such as this set him on edge. Leave? Preposterous. However, Amon knows that she cannot stay for him alone—the greater good prevails over any of her wants.

"I understand. I only ask one thing of you."

Eagerly, she asks, "What?"

"Hurry back to me." He smiles and she returns it.

"Always."

Tenzin shakes his head, his shoulders slumping. At his chair, he is sitting with a hand on the dining table and another on his knee.

"Tenzin, my dearest, what is troubling you?" his wife, Pema asks, ladling a hefty dose of cabbage soup into his china bowl.

The airbender's living quarters was a beautiful one, complete with amenities and even a bath. It was the Taiki Temples—or at least one of them. Tenzin thought the vast temple was perfect for his large family. When Pema goes on to ladle soup into Jinora's bowl, he answers.

"The King of the United Republic, possibly the best King they've had yet—he is ill. No one person, doctor, healer, nor herbalist knows what the man hath caught."

Pema pauses, knowing there is more than he says and stares at her husband, her lips a thin line. The kids stare at their father, not exactly understanding, but wanting to know the news as well.

"What is it, Father?" Jinora, the eldest of his children asks, and Tenzin absolutely cannot say no to that cherubic face of hers.

"The throne will be given to his only son, Prince Mako. I will not claim that he is an unsuitable ruler, but I do not believe that he possesses the qualities to be an excellent ruler, as his Father is—was," Tenzin explains solemnly, picking up his cup of tea and sipping it, the liquid burning the lips. He doesn't mind.

Pema continues serving up the soup, thinking. She answers Tenzin a moment later, sitting down with her own bowl of soup. "Why not give the boy a chance, Tenzin? Why not show sympathy? If he is the son of the King of the United Republic, I'm sure there might be something down the path."

Tenzin nods, too caught up in his soup to reply.

Mako stands—tall, regal, proud. He looks forward at some point in the distance, eyes hard. "I now present thee, King Mako the successor, ruler of the United Republic!" His eyes close briefly, flittering beneath closed eyelids. The now-king feels like a changed man.

The weight of a kingdom weighs his head down, heavy with the promise of pressure.

In an instant, the moment is over, the coronation finished. Though he does not remember moving, Mako opens his eyes to find himself in his personal quarters. The feel of cold silk is familiar to his hands.

"Greetings, King Mako." King Iroh shakes hands with a firm grip, a proper Fire Kingdom greeting. "My sincerest apologies—on learning the state of your father, I sent here as quickly as I could manage. I offer you council in the hopes that you need not my aide. Belated congratulations on your coronation as well—it is of great interest to the other nations, as well as thy own. My people offer themselves in the event that such assistance is needed."

Mako is not sure whether he should be pleased by this prospect or not—the Fire Kingdom, offering its many resources.

"While I am flattered by your proposal, of all people you should understand the need to prove oneself. Their king's youth and inexperience shall not be my people's downfall," he states quite somberly.

A/N: Hiya guys. Katey here, thekidthatcould. Actually, I'm gonna stop using my full username. Just refer to me as Katey or... the kid. Aw yiss. Anyway, this chapter was actually written in a few days after we posted the prologue, but we didn't feel like posting it until later, so enjoy. And don't kill us. This fic, as described in the summary, is medieval with modern undertones. We apologize in advance for historical inaccuracies, and that you keep the 'modern undertone' thing in mind, please. If you're reading this fic and are kind of confused - read the prologue or address your question in a PM or a review.

Regarding the updating schedule: We don't really have a specific day set to update, because we all agreed that the best time to update would be when we feel like it, so there's no pressure and all that blah, considering we are starting highschool relatively soon.

Lastly, we love reviews, so do be kind and leave us one. We live off these things.

P.S. The next chapter will most likely contain both Bolin and Korra. Mostly. Probably.