What if the Southern Raiders had taken more than just her mother? The story of a young waterbender who fled, and found a master in the most unlikely of places. She was trained to fight, and she was trained to kill.
Chapter 1
The Southern Water Tribe
Prince Zuko stood at the bow of his ship, the frigid southern air easily biting through his armour. His knuckles gripped the steel, his golden eyes scanning the horizon.
"Nephew," Iroh spoke behind him, bringing his robe closer as a gust swept through, "please, come inside. You are no help out here."
He clenched his teeth together, biting back an angry remark."He's got to be somewhere, Uncle, he can't hide forever." He heard his uncle shift his weight from foot to foot, the metal planks groaning beneath him.
"Prince Zuko, please-" The prince in question spun on his heel, cutting Iroh off with a sharp wave of his hand.
"I'll find him, Uncle. I have to." With that, Zuko turned around and faced the horizon once more. He pulled out the eye scope he kept clipped to his belt and held it to his one good eye. For as far as he could see there was snow. Snow and ice. And water. He hated that Agni-dammed water. He hated the snow too. And the ice. He hated this whole forsaken wasteland the water tribes called home.
For hours, Zuko had stood and stared, occasionally glancing through the scope. Iroh paced between the cold inside of the ship and the freezing outside of the deck. Worry gnawed at the old general's stomach; his nephew was never reluctant to fall into obsession, and catching the ghost of an Avatar was no exception. Iroh only hoped that the Prince didn't catch a cold from standing outside for so long without a hat on to keep his ears warm. He knew Zuko was cold, but he'd be dammed if he ever admitted it.
Zuko was, in fact, very cold. The tips of his ears burned, and he had to restrain himself from rubbing warmth into them. Can't lose face in front of the crew, after all. Or his uncle, who he knew was pacing behind him with a scarf in tow. Zuko let lose a slow sigh, bringing the scope to his eye. He swept his vision across the never ending white Angi-dammed snow before him, only pausing when a cluster of snow caught his attention. But no, this didn't look like normal snow. Snow didn't just happen to fall into these particular shapes. No, this snow had been stacked and shaped by man. The Southern Water Tribe village! Zuko spun on his heel, and shouted to his helmsman to head toward that particular pile of snow. Then, he turned to his men and ordered them to prepare to land, while Prince Zuko left to his own rooms, his shoulders back and his head held high.
"Did you find something, Prince Zuko?" His uncle walked briskly to keep pace with him.
"A village. Probably the Southern Tribe," he replied, barely able to keep the excitement from his voice. His uncle hummed alongside him.
"Do you think he could be there?"
"Yes, it's possible." A smile finally began to tug at his lips. It had been almost a decade since any news had been heard about the Southern Tribe, at the time of the last raid. A backwater village with little to no contact with the outside world? It seemed the perfect place for an old Avatar to hide.
Iroh, however, was not so optimistic. There was a reason that no one had made contact with the Southern Tribe for so long, and he believed he knew the reason why. Although, he was not fool enough to break the bad news to the Prince. Instead, he wished Zuko good luck and pushed a woollen scarf into his hands and made a hasty retreat to his own quarters.
Prince Zuko stared at the itchy red scarf in his hands. He knew his uncle all too well. Sighing, he wrapped the material around his neck and stuffed it under his armour, out of sight. He spun open the door to his room and let it slam against the wall. He grabbed his helmet and donned it, glad at least for the protection against the cold.
The snow crunched under his boots, and the first thing Prince Zuko noticed was the distinct lack of, well, anything. What looked to be a village, was actually just a few falling down igloos and the occasional fur pelt or spear. Zuko motioned for his men to spread out and search the abandoned village. He took a few steps forward, eyes sweeping the area for anything, anything, that might lead to the Avatar. The snow continued to crunch under his boots until one step had a crunching and cracking that definitely did not sound like snow. Zuko bent down and brushed the snow away from where his foot had landed.
Beneath the snow, Zuko's glove hit something frozen and blue. He peered closer, squinting. At the realization of exactly what he had stepped on, the Prince reeled back and sat. A body.
A body that had been a woman. A body that, upon even closer inspection by the Prince, had been burned to a crisp. Zuko felt bile rise and burn his throat, but swallowed it down and stood. Brushing the snow off of shaky legs, he called out for his men to search for any more human remains.
"Report back to me with the final number, and if there are any signs of life." He nearly had to shout to be heard over the growing wind. "I'll be in my quarters for now," he waited briefly for his men to bow to him, then turned and fled and gracefully as he could.
Prince Zuko threw himself onto his mattress and laced his fingers behind his head. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to calm his stomach. Zuko would never consider himself lucky, per se, but now he was grateful that he had never had to face any real enemy, never had to fight in any real battle. He had grown up with tales of bloodied violence, but never before had he had to deal any fatal damage. His crew had never lost a man, and his hands were free of blood. And now, staring at the rivets in his ceiling, he was grateful, because surely he would never be able to stomach it.
For the better part of an hour, Zuko stared and tried to think of anything but the burned and frozen woman he had stumbled on. When finally one of his men knocked on his door, Zuko nearly leapt from his bed.
"How many?" he demanded as the door groaned open.
"Fourty-seven, sir. Men, women, and children." Zuko felt the bile rise back into his throat.
"And what condition were they in?" He congratulated himself for sounding so calm, when he was anything but.
"All look to have suffered major burns. Most likely the cause of death." Zuko thanked the no-named man and dismissed him. Forty-seven people, he thought as he threw himself onto his bed again. That was probably the whole tribe.
Zuko tried to rationalize that, without the Southern Tribe, his nation's victory in the war would be that much easier. He tried and tried to think like the Son of Fire that he was, but deep in the back of his mind he knew that this, this killing of defenceless women and children, was just mindless bloodshed.
With the Southern Water Tribe gone, the Avatar would have no place to hide down here, Prince Zuko pondered. After three long years away from home, it was difficult for the Prince to stay optimistic about his situation. Now, however, he was glad that they could leave this frigid and desolate desert of ice.
AN; So this is my first fanfiction in about six years. This is also my first ATLA and my first Zutara fic. I've read plenty of fanfiction in my years, but writing and reading are two very different things. So please, please, tell me if you think my characters are OCC. Also, since it's been so long since I've written anything, criticism is welcome. I'm not the best writer out there, and I would love to learn how to become better. Thanks for reading, Cheers.