Exile

Author's Note: This is the first story in a series I hope will grow into my own version of Avatar Season Four. My plan is create stories that can be read separately, but that also have a continuing narrative that will stretch over the series. There will also probably be some one shots that fit within the framework while not being part of the main storyline. I'm calling these stories The Restoration Cycle, and this is the start of the first story in the first arc: Arc I: Allies. Yeah, I'm thinking big. Help keep me going by reading and commenting, if you would be so kind.

The focus will be on plot and character, with shipping kept to an absolute minimum, at least among the canon characters. I am proceeding as much as possible from show canon and building off of loose ends left in the series, although I will be inserting some ideas of my own that I hope will expand, rather than overwrite, what had come before.

To paraphrase Tom Smith:

"Thanks to all of those who read my writing with delight,

"And those who don't – keep reading, 'cause some day I'll get it right."

Special author's note for this chapter: No, Mikka is not the product of Zutara, as will become obvious later, so you can relax.

Chapter 1: The Prison

Three of them lived in the tiny crater: the woman, the man, and the boy. The man had come first, the woman next, and finally the boy.

The man had been keeping track of his days of imprisonment by marking a tree. The woman came about a year after his arrival, the boy another year after that. No one else had joined them since. For this, the man was grateful.

The only way in or out of the crater was a tunnel dug through one of the impassable cliff walls that ringed the island. Only an earthbender could have gotten up those cliffs, and none of them possessed that talent. The exit was blocked by two huge boulders, one at each end of the tunnel. It took all six guards with levers to move them when they brought in the monthly delivery of necessities. Escape was not possible. The man had tried once, and had been beaten and burned badly enough for his trouble that they had brought in the boy to heal him.

The boy was a mystery, with skin and hair that said "Fire Nation", but the luminous blue eyes and the waterbending talent of the Water Tribe. He had been no more than six or so when the guards first brought him through, and had given his name as "Mikka". He had said almost nothing else for months. Now he was perhaps nine, ten, possibly a small eleven. He didn't know. His mother's name had been Ossa; his father was unknown.

The man and the woman had cosseted the boy, not only because they felt responsible for his unwarranted imprisonment with them and grateful for his priceless talents with water, but because he was a refuge from the intolerable boredom that came with their situation. They spent a great deal of time coaxing him to talk, then teaching him to read and do sums, using a stick in the sand since paper was much too scarce to be used for lessons. Once he had had time to get over his fear and put some meat on his half-starved bones, the boy had proved a quick and able student. The woman had also spent time teaching him the history of the four countries, though her versions of those tales varied from the official ones in several places.

Their little household would perhaps have been considered a comfortable peasant steading if they had been free. They had chickens for eggs (and the rare chicken dinner), a nannycow for milk, and a small vegetable garden. Grain and other necessary food staples were delivered regularly. There was a gushing cold spring with a little pond for water. They had cotton futons, bedding, a small stove, a few other simple items of wooden furniture. Cold was not a problem in this part of the Fire Nation; the soaking, sweltering heat of the monsoon season was far more uncomfortable than the dry cool season.

Once, the woman had tried building the stove fire up with green tree branches and leaves to make as much smoke as possible, in the hope that some ship passing by might see the plume and consider pulling in to the island to offer them escape. The guards had been amused by this, pointing out that the fumaroles on the uninhabitable part of the island (which was most of it) regularly put out smoke and steam, as well as noxious fumes they had trouble escaping when the wind was wrong. They added the fact that the only ships likely to see them here were Fire Nation navy vessels, which would certainly not be offering the prisoners any help.

The woman had taken her defeat with dignity, as she took everything. Well, almost everything: three years into her confinement, she had woken from one of her deep uneasy dreams screaming and clutching at her face as if an animal were trying to tear into her. The man and the boy had stayed up with her the rest of the night as she sat, wrapped in a thin blanket, shivering, her eyes blank. Then, with the next supply delivery, the guards had brought news that had driven her into a frightening cold fury that lasted several weeks. The man and the boy had been torn between watching her carefully to make sure she didn't attack the guards – or worse, try to hurt herself – and trying to stay out of her way for fear of accidentally becoming the focus of her helpless rage. She was hurtfully cold and distant to little Mikka during this time, which he found bewildering and frightening; the man reassured him that the woman would return to her normal self in time.

Eventually that time had passed, although the fit left her looking older, sadder, and somehow harder. She had gone back to being gentle and warm with Mikka, however, so the boy was happy again.

Their little household settled back into its normal patterns, although the man noticed the woman had picked up a tendency to sometimes touch her left eye as if it hurt her. For several years nothing else had happened to disturb the placid rhythms of their lives. Then, one day at the start of the rainy season, the man had a brief conversation with one of the guards, a friendly young man named Enzo.

"Strange rumors running around this spring," Enzo said quietly. Ever since the woman's frightful fury, the guards had been under orders not to speak to the prisoners unless specifically instructed, but that had been nearly three years ago, and the rules had begun to slip. Still, it wouldn't be a good thing for Enzo's career to get a reputation for being too chatty, so he kept his voice down.

The man nodded for Enzo to continue.

"It's the weirdest thing – some people are saying the Avatar is back."

"What?! That's impossible. It's been over a hundred years."

"Hey, I know, I know! That's what I said. Still, I've heard it from more than one source."

"Avatar Roku has reappeared? He'd be over two hundred!"

"They say Avatars sometimes live that long, but no, it's not Roku. It's an Airbender."

The man snorted. "There aren't any more Airbenders. Sozin saw to that."

"Hey, maybe he missed one. Those Air Nomads did get around, you know."

"So he – or she?"

"He."

"So he's, what, been in hiding for a century?"

"No one knows anything about that. Some people say he's a tiny old bald monk, so maybe he was, who knows. Anyway, rumor has it he single handedly crushed the Northern Fleet in a battle at the North Pole. Admiral Zhao was killed."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer psycho," the man muttered.

"Hey, he's a big national war hero now for his sacrifice, so keep your voice down, eh?"

"Right, right, sorry. Go on."

"Anyway, the whole Fleet was practically wiped out. They say the Fire Lord has been spitting flame out every orifice, he's so pissed off about it. He's sending the little Princess out to deal with the problem, whatever it turns out to really be."

"Little Azula? She can't be more than fifteen by now."

"Fourteen, actually, and one scary kid, I gotta tell you. Poor Captain Lau got the job of escorting her. People are taking bets on how long he'll last. I'd let you in on the pool if you had any money."

"Hah. Thanks anyway."

"Oh yeah, and this too – the Prince and the General have been declared criminals. They're wanted for treason, and are said to be on the run in the Earth Kingdom. The Fire Lord wants their heads."

The man swore horribly and dropped the load of wood he'd been carrying straight on top of Enzo's foot. He continued swearing and cursing the name of Fire Lord Ozai as Enzo hopped around doing some swearing of his own. The commotion caught the attention of the other guards, as well as Mikka and the woman. Mikka, seeing that someone was hurt, dashed over with a ball of glowing water in his hands to tend to the injury. The woman came over, apprehension clear on her face. "Is something wrong?" she asked, deceptively mild.

The man couldn't help himself – he spat out the vile news Enzo had shared with him. Enzo cringed at the looks appearing on faces around him. The woman's eyes were burning, and her hands flickered with a searing hot white flame. She looked ready to reduce them all to ashes. Enzo, truly a decent sort at heart, shoved Mikka out of the way of any possible attack before he struck his own firebending defensive stance – not that he thought it would help him much.

The look on his own captain's face wasn't much more reassuring. He seemed more than ready to let the woman turn Enzo to ash. The man, seeing the woman's fury, got hold of himself with some difficulty, and gripped her shoulder. "Don't," he hissed. "It's not their fault. And you still have Azula to think of. Please. Don't."

She paused, the flames licking over her hands and casting devil shadows on her beautiful face. Then, very low, she growled, "Get. Out."

The guard captain, no fool, ordered his troops to drop their supply bundles and make for the tunnels, which they did with no delay. The woman watched them go, then her face crumpled and she sank to the ground, sobs wracking her slim body. Mikka threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her neck. The man bent low over her, placing a hand on her shoulder. He heard her whisper, "He promised. He promised."

"He lied. Again. May rotworms eat out his entrails slowly while he still lives, that unspeakable bastard." He tried to help her up, but she stayed huddled low to the ground.

"I'm going to have to kill him," she murmured. "Spirits of fire help me, I'm going to have to kill my own husband."

The man bowed his head, understanding her pain, and her determination. "Only if I don't get to him first, Aunt Ursa."