V2.1

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender.

Daughter of the Commander

He may have been an evil man, but he was still my father. He was the man who taught me how to ride my first kimodo-rhino. He was the man who loved all three of his children equally. Well...he had loved all of them. I was still debating on the love he felt for me. And even though he had captured me again, he still let me have some freedom. Was "freedom" considered love? I couldn't leave out of my own free will, obviously. And my room did have bars over the windows.

I wasn't the favorite child. No, that was reserved for the eldest two children. I, on the other hand, was the one who never did anything right. I was the one who had hurt him the most, disappointed him the most. Nothing I did was good enough for him.

Apparently the tea I made was sufficient, though, because he was drinking it. He wasn't talking to me, but he wasn't glaring, either. Actually, he looked rather peaceful at the moment, staring out through the window beside us, at the view of the town. It wasn't the best view in the world, though.

The small, disgusting harbor I was being held prisoner at was a place that the black market called a haven. The factories on the outskirts of town made the sky a hazy grey, blocking the sunlight and leaving me cold. I felt as if the world would never be happy again. And, while I was under my father's care, technically I never would be.

"What time will you be home from work?" I asked softly before taking a sip of my ginseng tea.

"Do you really care?" he snapped, as if my words had interrupted a play instead of the horrible scenery outside.

I sighed and sat down the cup, putting my hands in my lap and looking around the small, make-shift kitchen. "I was just trying to make conversation."

My father sighed as well and picked up a large hand, rubbing his face. I realized at that moment that I hadn't gotten my looks from him, only his thick hair, even though mine was black and his was brown. My siblings looked more like him than I did. "I know. I work until midnight. Will you be making rounds with the Captain?"

Ugh. Isamu. "Of course." Anything to get out of that stuffy, make-shift house.

I was waiting for him to chastise me about the wiles of men, or for the regular lecture about not trying to escape. But instead, he said, "He's a good man, Emiko."

This was when I looked up, and I noticed that he was looking at me with those big topaz eyes. I couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason my mother fell in love with him, because with that look, he actually seemed…human. His hair obviously hadn't been receding then, and the sideburns hadn't been as prominent. He also hadn't been riding on the promotion of "Admiral."

Back then, he'd still loved me. Apparently enough so now as well to mention the fact that Isamu was a good man...and single.

"I know he is," I said, feeling my face heat up. I knew what was coming next and I didn't know if it made me embarrassed or angry.

"Your birthday. It's coming up soon, isn't it?"

I clutched the tea cup tighter in my hands. "I'll be sixteen."

"Old enough to marry."

I had to take a deep, shaky breath before I could talk to him without yelling. My teeth were clenched as I ground out, "I don't want to get married."

"It isn't your choice." He stood up before I could protest, looking at the position of the sun in the hazy sky. "I have to get to work. Apparently a new ship has arrived in the harbor and it doesn't have docking permits."

"Your job is so glamorous," I mumbled under my breath as I brought the tea back to my lips.

"It keeps a roof over your head!" This was snapped in the tone of voice he almost always used on me as he moved to the door in long, angry strides. "I expect you to pay attention to anything that Isamu says towards you. If he hints towards a union, I would like to know."

"He's barely ever said a word to me, let alone hinted at anything. He knows you'll kill him if he makes a move. Why do you want to marry me off so badly, anyway?"

He sighed and put his hand on the doorknob. "Because I'm not always going to be here."

That answer silenced me, so I looked away and tried not to think about it. Part of me, the wild, uncultured part that had grown in the wilds of the Earth Kingdom, was happy to hear that. But the part that was still his daughter didn't want to think of losing him.

Commander Zhao

The young, arrogant Prince sat there and was bold-faced lying to him. The Prince hadn't changed much, other than aging and his scar becoming even uglier. It stretched across his eye to his ear, which was shriveled, and that eyebrow was gone. He'd shaved off all of his hair in his exile, only leaving a small patch of hair in a ponytail at the crown of his head.

Zhao planted both of his hands on the table and stared into the topaz eyes that he'd come to hate. "Why don't you stop beating around the bush, Prince Zuko? I've had some of your men interrogated...and they've told me that you had the Avatar in your custody, but you let him escape."

Zuko's eyes widened just as the old monkey in the back—or should he say Iroh—knocked over an entire rack of weapons. "Oh, sorry, sorry..."

"I have more resources than you," he whispered to the struck-silent teenager, who turned his wide eyes into a glare at Zhao's voice. "I have more men, more money, and more ships at my disposal. You will never be able to beat me. I'll catch the Avatar before you."

When the Prince was about to retaliate, a tall, lanky blur ran into the tent. "C-Commander Zhao!" the soldier cried, skidding to a stop. He had a thick head full of black hair, a rather thin face, with a pair of brown eyes. Not a bad-looking kid to imagine fathering his grandchildren.

"Ah, Isamu, you came at exactly the right time," Zhao droned sarcastically, irate that there was a distraction. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

Isamu bent down and leaned onto his knees to catch his breath from running all the way to the tent. While the Commander was irritated, he knew that Isamu was his only insight into his daughter. The man was practically her babysitter, for all intents and purposes. So Zhao tried to listen to the man's nervous mumblings when they came to his attention.

"It…it's her," the tall, handsome soldier finally managed to get out.

Zhao snapped to attention suddenly, staring down the quivering man. "What's wrong with her?"

Zuko raised his only dark, well-defined eyebrow. "Is this your girlfriend, Commander?"

Zhao sent a glare to the noble and snapped, "When you have children, I hope that they are as much trouble to you as my daughter is to me." He scowled at the implication and then turned back to his Captain. "Tell me what's wrong!"

Isamu pulled in a deep breath, then spewed out, "She got away."

"What?"

The Prince laughed out loud. "You let a five-year-old girl get away from you?" he asked incredulously, tilting backwards in his chair and crossing his feet on the table, an arrogant smile on his ugly face.

"She's twelve," Zhao snapped.

"Fifteen," Isamu corrected, standing up and shying away from Zhao's temper.

"Captain, get two battalions to search the dock," Zhao growled, straightening his armor. "I want her back in her room by tonight or else this is on your head, understood?"

Isamu straightened, the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Y-yes sir. Right away sir."

After Isamu left, the teenager furrowed his brow. "How old are you?" he asked finally, confusion deep-set into his voice.

Zhao turned away from him and clenched his eyes shut. He chose to ignore the question. "Once I'm out to sea, my men will permit you to go and you will be allowed to leave."

"I'll… I'll stop you!" the Prince cried angrily, standing up and yelling like a two-year-old in a temper tantrum.

Zhao just laughed in a way made the teen's face drain of color. "Stop me? Impossible!"

"I will capture the Avatar before you!"

"You?" Zhao asked with an evil grin, forgetting about the stab at his heart. He was able to do that—I wasn't. "You're just a banished prince. No home, no allies…your own father doesn't even want you."

"That's not true!" Zuko yelled.

"You have a scar to prove it."

Zuko got in Zhao's face and screamed, "Maybe you'd like one to match!" The room instantly got hotter by twenty degrees, sending a heatwave over the older Commander that surprised him a little "Agni Kai. Sundown."

Emiko

I'd been gathering supplies for a few hours before setting off. It was almost sundown and my father's forces were starting to comb the city for me, so I had to get going.

"Did you hear?" the merchant asked as he handed me my change. I raised an eyebrow and put the money in a small compartment within my hiking bag. "There's an Agni Kai in the arena. Goin' on right now, apparently."

I smiled stiffly at the clerk and bade a quick farewell. An Agni Kai? Either it's my father, or I'm an eel-hound. I had to ask which way the arena was from what I assumed was one of my father's men, but he didn't seem all that intent on capturing me. In fact, he didn't even realize who I was.

It was probably a good thing that I didn't look like my father.

I ran over to see how the battle was going, but apparently I already missed most of the fight. Climbing up the wall, I hung there, hoping to see neither of the two get hurt. I may have been a fighter, but that didn't mean that I liked violence.

I heard a voice call, "Basics, Zuko! Break his root!" This came from an old man. I tightened my grip on the wall, locking my arms together to keep from falling and studied him. He was in his sixties or seventies it looked like, with a pudgy belly and short, stocky legs. His beard was thinning and grey, like the hair on top of his head. He dressed well, though, if not slightly out-of-date in his style.

Down in the arena, I saw my father fire many volleys of flame, alternating between his fists. No matter how much I hated to admit it, my father was good. His only problem had ever been control. He would start a fire, but bringing it down was the hardest thing for him. He put too much energy into one single shot. While this method was powerful, it was exhausting and uncontrollable.

This "Zuko" blocked each volley of fire my father sent at him, slowly being forced back. His training was shaky at best, with weak footholds as he tried to use agility to beat my father. His pale body was toned from Firebending all his life, but had he made any improvements since the moderate set? I studied all of this fighting moves, trying to pinpoint all of his techniques. Strangely, he didn't seem to have any.

On the last volley, Zhao used both hands, knocking Zuko over and sending him skidding backwards in the dirt. Zhao took a flying jump at him and landed as Zuko tried to get up, but he wasn't fast enough. Zhao fired right at him, and—

Zuko rolled out of the way just in time, and advanced towards the old man, using his feet to produce small waves of flame that rushed toward his opponent. Zhao was caught off-balance and wobbled slowly backward.

My father never did have good balance.

Zuko finally laid Zhao out flat on the ground with one last blast of fire. Zuko rushed up to him, prepared to deal the final blow.

Zhao knew what was going to happen. "Do it!"

My heart instantly seized and I lost my grip on the wall. My back was shocked by the sudden fall, immobilizing me for a moment. I heard the angry scream as Zuko delivered a blow. My heart stopped beating until I heard my father speak. "That's it?" he asked as I scrambled to my feet, running around to the entrance of the arena. "Your father raised a coward."

Is he not hurt? I wondered, turning the corner. I saw Zuko turned away from my father who had a blazing hole on the ground next to his head. "Next time you get in my way, I promise I won't hold back."

That was when I realized who this Zuko was. He was Prince Zuko, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. He'd been banned for cowardice in the Agni Kai arena.

My brow crinkled in confusion. Of all people, Prince Zuko should have shown the least amount of mercy in that situation. But he let Zhao go with only a warning. This requires further investigation.

Not right then, though. I had other things that needed concentrated on.

Zuko turned his back and began to walk away. I almost screamed when my father got up and, with a howl of anger, unleashed a whip of flame at Zuko via foot. The flame was extinguished, however, as a hand closed over the foot. The old man had moved between them to stop the dishonorable attack.

My heart was doing jumping jacks in my throat, my hands over my mouth to smother a scream of disbelief and fright. Did I dare go in there after a wound to my father's pride? Did I dare try and say goodbye?

Those in the arena all remained frozen for a moment until the old man hurled Zhao back into the dirt with little effort. Zuko rushed to avenge the insult, but was stopped by his elder.

"No, Prince Zuko," he scolded, his voice soothing and wise. "Do not taint your victory." He turned to face Zhao with a look of disdain on his face. "So this is how the great Commander Zhao acts in defeat?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Appalling… Even in exile, my nephew is more honorable than you."

Nephew? This man had to be General Iroh, the Dragon of the West. Why did he seem so familiar to me, then? It had to have been all the recruitment papers of him that were plastered up all over the town we'd lived in so many years ago. Maybe that was why his face seemed comforting.

Iroh smiled and patted his stomach. "Thanks again for the tea. It was delicious." Then, they walked out and left Zhao staring after them.

I cautiously walked in, trying to dodge their line of sight. I was sure that the old man had seen me, but what harm was there in the confused look he sent my way? I was too busy walking slowly towards the slumped shoulders of my father. "Daddy?"

His back tensed, although I knew that he wouldn't leave.

Pursing his lips, he looked over his shoulder at me. "Why aren't you already gone?" When I didn't answer, he clenched his fist and turned all the way around, raising his arm.

I put my hands on his wrist and patted it, saddened at the gesture. "You wouldn't hit me, would you?" I could barely speak loud enough for myself to hear, so I wondered how he'd heard me.

"Since when do you stick around to rub it in my face?"

"Since when do you care?" I shot back incredulously, throwing my hands down. "I'm tired of running from you. I can't stay and you know why. I don't belong with the Fire Nation."

He was silent for a moment, shrugging on a shirt and leaving me feeling slightly remorseful. "So what's your plan this time? Planning on joining up with that bounty hunter again? Or how about the pirates? Ooh, that was a good one. You almost evaded me for an entire year."

"The pirates taught me more than you ever did," I said softly, crossing my arms over my chest. "And June was a good friend."

"Well what about your latest futile attempt?" he asked, buttoning the shirt. "That band of Fire-Nation-hating children?"

"The Freedom Fighters," I sighed, trying not to become irritated. I tried to tell myself that this man had loved me once. Did he still? "And they were the best friends anyone could ever have."

"Sure." Of course he didn't care. "What about that girl…Pebble, was it? I feel sorry for her."

"And why would you do that?" I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose with my index finger and thumb. Had I gotten that from him? Probably. It was one of the only things I got from him.

"It's a shame what my men did to her…after all, she was only about a year younger than you, right?"

My heart stopped for a fraction of a second before my eyes narrowed and I turned to him, my body shaking with anger. "What did they do to her." It wasn't a question.

"She seemed to have suffered a casualty, last I saw. It's a real shame. They ought to keep better care of their team members."

He's just trying to hurt you, my brain said, but my heart just wouldn't listen. It kept replaying that last few moments over and over—his command, my panicked breathing, her painful scream. I gave out a shuddering breath at what she must have gone through.

He smiled at me, putting one finger under my chin to make me look up at him. "You have no idea how much you are like me," he said softly, a strange, fatherly light in his eyes.

I felt tears coming to mine, which were much like his. Pebble, one of my best friends, was hurt because of this man. And, not only him, but me. "I will never be like you."

He smirked as I turned away form him and started running out of the stadium. His voice followed on the wind, whispering, "You already are."