**Note from author: Greetings. This is my first fanfic, and I don't even know if I'm going to continue it; it's really all based on number/nature of reviews. Unfortunately, you can't expect regular updates, as I'm an Army soldier deployed to Kuwait right now, so the internet is iffy most of the time and I could become busy at any time. I'd appreciate it if you'd bear with me and leave a review. Thanks in advance!**

I came awake with a jerk, taking a sharp breath and snapping my eyes open. For a split second, I looked around wildly, but my surroundings were the same: a cold steel cell surrounded by cold steel bars inside a cold steel room in the dark, dank belly of a cold steel ship. The bars were inscribed with dozens of glyphs and symbols that spiraled up and down, repeating over and over. The same went for my shackles, and the chains that pulled my arms up awkwardly into the air; they rattled faintly as they swayed to the motion of the ship. The only light in the room came from two sputtering braziers on either side of the rusted iron portal at the far side of the room.

I swallowed, my throat rasping faintly, and I idly wondered when a guard would come to give me one of my few daily cupfuls of water; they fed it to me from a long-handled ladle while they stood on the thin metal walkway that came up to the edge of the cell. I'd seen nothing but the inside of the those bars for almost two years, day in and day out; I'd been imprisoned so long, I'd forgotten the sight of my own face.

Suddenly, I was snapped out of my reverie by a pulse of energy that raced through the walls of the ship as if they weren't even there. My Air Nomad arrow tattoos began to glow red, throwing bloody shadows over the walls of my prison. I bared my teeth in pain and surprise as my chi gushed from the depths of my being, building like a static charge. Then, almost a minute later, the energy left me, and I hung limply in my chains, wondering what had just happened.

Tinny footsteps outside my door ripped me from my thoughts. The metal door opened with the silence of well-oiled hinges to admit two guards and a certain scarred, angry individual. Prince Zuko dismissed the masked fire benders with a motion and a command, then paced slowly to the very end of the platform. I let my head hang limply, refusing to look at him.

"You felt it, didn't you?" he asked me without preamble. I didn't answer, turning my head away.

Zuko's eyes narrowed, and I heard him spin away from the cage. "Of course you did. How could you not?" His fists tightened, and I could tell he was struggling with his famous temper. "When my father first took me to see you, deep in the palace dungeons, I stared in wonder at you. There you were: the Avatar, a legend from ancient times, sitting right in front of me. Our greatest enemy was a prisoner of the great Fire Nation."

I chuckled a little. "I remember you, young prince," I returned, the words sounding odd coming from a twelve-year-old. "I remember your father, as well, toting me as his wondrous accomplishment, his great triumph."

Zuko turned to face me, his lip curling in disgust. "But he was lying. When I was banished, I learned that you were nothing more than a fraud, a decoy to fool my great-grandfather, Fire Lord Sozin, into calling off the search for the Avatar." Zuko shook his head. "They were all fools for believing it."

"Actually, I thought I was fairly convincing," I needled him.

"Silence!" he ordered. "They may have been convinced, but I know the truth; things are different now. It's only a matter of time before I capture my true quarry." Zuko frowned more severely, his version of a triumphant smirk. "And you're going to help me."

I frowned right back at him and bared my teeth fiercely. "You'll never find the Avatar. He's had a hundred years to build his strength, to master the four elements; he's had a hundred years to perfect his disguise." I tried to spit at him, but my mouth was too dry. "You failed before you even began."

"You're nothing but a freak," he shot back, "a forsaken abomination, sent away by his own people."

"You know nothing about me!" I bellowed, my voice cracking.

He looked as though he was about to fry me like an egg, but suddenly he relaxed his body and smiled. "You have no idea," he said darkly. Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving me to do my worst: mutter and fume angrily in my cell.

'Don't let him get under your skin,' I told myself in a futile attempt to calm down. 'What does he know?' It seemed like Zuko only ever came down to my cell for one of two reasons: to remind me that I was his prisoner and that it was his destiny to capture the Avatar, or to rage at the walls until he was calm again. Lately, I'd been feeling a little like his therapist. As often as not, he would talk to himself more than me, voicing all of his innermost concerns and fears. I think I knew him better than he knew himself, much as I wished I didn't. It caused me to feel not only hatred for him as my captor, but sympathy and understanding for him as a human being. Mostly, though, I just felt angry at him.

He had a point, though: I was a hybrid, half-man and half-spirit. How I'd been born, who my parents were, or where I came from were all a mystery to me as much as anyone else. All I knew was that I'd been raised as a normal boy among the Air Nomads. Somehow, Zuko had discovered my true identity when he'd stolen me away from his father's prisons.

I sighed to myself. 'At least I get to travel the world, right?' I thought bitterly, letting myself fall into an uneasy sleep.

Days could have passed, or weeks; I couldn't tell, thanks to the eternal lack of sunlight in my dungeon. I was brought food and water occasionally by a guard. Most were cruel, or just indifferent, which was almost worse. But there was one soldier that never failed to show me kindness.

The prison door whispered open slowly, and Shun popped his head in. "You still there?" he called.

"No, I stepped outside for a cup of tea and a nice chat with the Fire Lord," I snapped back. "Of course I'm still here." I slumped a little, the chains around my arms growing taut with my slight weight.

"I'm sorry, my friend," Shun apologized, entering and closing the door softly behind him. In one hand he held a tray of food. "I was simply trying to lift your spirits. You've seemed rather unhappy lately."

"I am unhappy, Shun," I sighed, facing him. "I don't have much to be happy about; other than you, that is."

Shun smiled kindly as he produced the key to my suspended cage, but it was tinged with sadness. "I wish that wasn't the case," he told me, opening the cage with a twist and a clank. "Hungry? Or do you need to relieve yourself first?" He nodded toward the stained bucket near the edge of my cell.

I shook my head. "Do you mind if I feed myself today?" I asked carefully, nodding to the shackles on my wrists. Every once in a while, when Shun felt it there was a good enough chance that we wouldn't be disturbed, he'd let me out of my shackles and spare me the indignity of being hand-fed every meal.

Shun bit his lip and chewed his straggling mustache, putting the tray on the ground and wringing his thin hands as he considered it. But before he could decide, the door banged open behind him. A soldier and six fire benders strode in. "What are you doing?" the sergeant demanded, eyeing Shun and I.

Shun snapped to attention next to me. "Feeding the prisoner, sir!" he responded promptly.

"Then why is the food on the ground instead of in your hand or the prisoner's mouth?" The sergeant raised a suspicious eyebrow, and I saw him put a hand behind his back. "What's going on here?"

Shun blushed furiously. "Eh… I'm antagonizing him, sir?"

The sergeant smirked cruelly. "Well, I hate to cut it short, soldier, but General Iroh has requested the prisoner on deck."

Despite myself, my head snapped up, and even I could sense the gleam of hope that leapt into my eye. Seeing it, the sergeant let out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, boy, you get to see the sun for a few minutes. Let's hope it doesn't burn all the sense out of you." The man lit a fireball in one hand. "Or I might have to," he threatened.

He turned to my only friend in the entire world. "Corporal Shun, chain his arms to his sides." Shun looked at me, the apology clear on his face for a split second. Then he was a soldier again, obeying his orders. "Yes, sir," he said crisply, taking a set of chains from one of the fire benders and, unshackling my wrists, used them to pin my arms to my sides. The new chains were cold and unfamiliar on my bare chest, and I shivered. Shun slapped me upside the head. "Quit struggling!" he ordered, and I immediately fell to playing the part of the dutiful prisoner. It was a cruel role for him to have to play, and we both knew it; but he played it flawlessly, thereby keeping us both out of trouble. I stood silent and motionless as they hobbled my feet and put a sack over my head. Then they led me away, stumbling and blind, through the square metal tunnels of the ship.

'Look on the bright side,' I told myself, stubbing my toe and hissing in pain. 'It'll be a change of scenery: metal walls and a metal floor for a metal deck and a big metal tower.'

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I lifted my foot only to find that I'd run out of stairs. A few more steps, and suddenly there was a freezing breeze that flowed over my limbs, making the ragged ends of my trousers dance. I inhaled deeply, but all I could smell through the sack was the blank, cold scent of snow and ice, with a hint of telltale salty fish. 'We're sailing around one of the poles,' I realized, frowning beneath my thick hood. 'But why?'

Further down the deck, I could hear the familiar whoosh and boom of fire bending. Shortly after, I heard General Iroh's voice, calling, "Take off the poor boy's hood!"

The sack was removed with a rough tug, and I was immediately blinded by late afternoon sunlight sparkling off icebergs and cold, crystal-clear water. I winced and yanked my arms up to my face as best I could. So I'd been right; and, judging from the calls of leopard seal-bats and penguins, which only lived in one place, we were sailing around the South Pole. I recovered my sight quickly and turned my attention to the scene before me. Prince Zuko stood in a ready position opposite two fire benders, breathing lightly. General Iroh was shaking his head at his nephew, sighing in exasparation.

Standing, he declared, "No! Power in fire bending comes from the breath, not the muscles!" He thrust out an arm for frustrated effect; he'd clearly been teaching the young prince the same lesson for at least a few hours, if not more. "The breath becomes energy in the body," he continued in his gravelly tones. "The energy extends past your limbs and becomes FIRE!" With a fist, he let a gush of flame out in front of Zuko's face. "Get it right this time."

"Enough," Zuko growled angrily, striding toward his uncle. "I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set; I'm more than ready," he stated, fists clenched and shoulders set.

"No, you are impatient. You have yet to master your basics," Iroh corrected, and I could see even his normally passive temper starting to rise. Sitting down again and putting his hands on his knees, he thundered, "Drill it again!"

Zuko snarled and, without warning, turned and shot a blast of fire toward one of his sparring fire benders. The unfortunate soldier tried to deflect it, but was sent flying back onto his rear. I raised an eyebrow, amused.

The prince whirled and shoved his face into his uncle's. "The sages tell us that the Avatar is the last air bender. He must be over a hundred years old by now. He's had a century to master the four elements. I'll need more than basic fire bending to defeat him," he finished through gritted teeth. "You will teach me the advanced set!" he ordered, practically shouting.

Iroh glared impassively up at him, his high-arching grey eyebrows drawn together in a frown as severe as that on his mouth. Considering, he finally looked away and conceded, "Very well." Suddenly, his face lit up. "But first, I must finish my roast duck." He produced a bowl of food and chopsticks from under his stool and began to wolf down his dinner with gusto.

Zuko drew back, surprised, then huffed with annoyance and began to storm away. He must have caught sight of me, surrounded by guards near the ship's railing, because he suddenly puffed up indignantly like a pigeon and began strutting over. "What is the meaning of this?! I didn't ask for him to be brought up here!" he shouted.

Iroh looked up from his crispy duck nuggets and waved a calming hand. "I thought the boy might like some fresh air after being so long in the hold," he said by way of explanation.

The prince cut a hand through the air. "He is not to be taken out of his cell by anyone except me. If he gets loose, there'll be no catching him!"

Iroh waved a hand at the sky. "Where is he going to go?" he asked dubiously. "He can barely move with all those chains, and it's much too cold for him to try and swim away, even if there was anywhere close for him to flee to. Speaking of which," he stopped himself, turning to me. He quickly took in my considerable lack of clothing. "Are you cold, young man?"

"He's a prisoner! It doesn't matter if he's cold!"

I ignored the prince's outburst and smiled tightly at the kind old man. "I don't get cold. But thank you, General."

"Retired," he said automatically. "And how can you not be freezing in weather like this?"

"Not to be rude, but I'd rather not say."

Iroh nodded, as if that was to be expected, but my words finally gave the prince a good excuse to finally blow up. "How dare you talk to a member of the Royal Family that way!"

"Would a member of the Royal Family keep an innocent boy chained in the dark depths of his ship for almost two years, let alone locked away for almost a hundred years?" I smiled knowingly at him. "Oops, I forgot. As a banished prince, you technically aren't-"

"Enough!" Zuko ordered, slicing a hand though the air again, this time leaving flame in its wake. "Return him to his cell immediately," he added, looking me straight in the eyes. I returned his steely gaze with my impassive one, then glanced at Iroh. He gave me an apologetic look, as if to say I tried to do what I could. I nodded to him and turned to go.

Apparently, not quickly enough. I received a hefty shove in the back from one of the guards. I don't know what came over me; maybe it was the surprise of suddenly being taken outside, or maybe all of the anger and depression that had built up over the past few years suddenly came to a head. Whatever it was, I snarled without thinking and clenched my fists, giving off showers of sparks and making the shackles on my wrists shine cherry-red. The guards jumped back with a shout, hands going to their weapons.

I wrestled my sudden temper under control, part of my brain reeling from my sudden and unexpected reaction. I absorbed the heat of my chains, and the metal quickly cooled. A soldier gave me a tentative poke, then another shove as they resumed leading me away into the ship. The last thing I saw before I stumbled down the cold stairs was Iroh looking at me curiously.

The guards knew their work, rough as it was, and I was all-too-soon securely chained in my cage. One stayed behind to feed me a few scraps of food while I lamented that Shun had been interrupted in the same act. A few minutes later, I was completely alone but for my own thoughts. Most of those thoughts were geared toward how tightly I would've crossed my legs if they weren't secured: the guard had forgotten to let me use the privy bucket before he left. The rest of those thoughts were busy contemplating the flash of power that had come over me a few days ago, as well as the flash of temper and loss of control that had just overtaken me on deck.

"Well, now I know why you don't get cold."

The chains rattled as I jerked in surprise; strangely, the old man had managed to sneak up on me. Iroh was standing before me, his hands hidden in the arms of his robe over his ample belly. A bucket of water sat steaming at his side. I could see a folded hood at the back of his neck, and I got the sense that he didn't want anyone to know he was visiting me.

"What do you want?" I asked brusquely, but not unkindly.

"I came to talk," he said, showing his open palms as a sign of peace. "To see if you could satisfy an old man's curiosity and appetite for secrets."

"To have an appetite for secrets is like having a fondness for sticking your hand into old rabbit holes," I answered off-handedly. "You may find a sweet, fluffy creature, but you may also find a viper that has made its home inside."

Iroh had a good laugh at that, and I couldn't help but smile, either. "I see that your tongue is not as young as one might believe."

"I am far older than most men might believe."

"I believe it," he said, sobering. He withdrew his hands, revealing a set of keys. He let himself into my cage, carrying the bucket and setting it down before me. "Here; I brought you some warm water to bathe with. I thought you might like to wash the grime from your limbs."

I hoped fervently that he couldn't see how overjoyed I was at the thought of even just wiping myself down with warm water and a rag. "I appreciate it, but I'll need the use of my own limbs for that," I told him slyly, trying to gauge his reaction.

He gave me an amused look that told me he knew exactly what I was doing. As he bent over to begin unchaining my legs, he said, "While the door to your cage is open, the door to the room is locked from the outside and heavily guarded." Reaching up for my arms, he apologized, "I'm sorry for the precautions, but I won't delude myself into thinking that you aren't dangerous. It would be foolish and disrespectful on my part."

"And it would be foolish and disrespectful to attempt escaping in the face of such hospitality, let alone thinking I could defeat the Dragon of the West."

The old man laughed again. "I'll give you a bit of privacy." He turned to leave, but I put a gentle hand on his arm. "It can wait," I said. "I'm curious as to why you're here."

Iroh nodded and took a seat, crossing his legs. I sat down a few feet opposite him in the same position. "You are a fire bender," he said without further preamble. I summoned my chi and let a small tongue of flame wander over my hand in answer while trying to think of how much I wanted to tell him. He looked back and forth at me and the flame in wonder. "Did you ever bend in all the time you were a captive of the Fire Nation proper?"

"Only in the privacy of my cell, where no one could see," I admitted. "I've tried my hardest to keep it a secret."

"You've done quite a job of it, so far. Can I ask why?"

"One of the best ways to overcome an enemy is with a tactic or strength they are unaware of," I told him. "If I was ever presented with a chance to escape, I wanted to have an extra trick up my sleeve." I flexed my bare, corded arms. "So to speak."

Iroh gave me a suspicious look. "Are there any other tricks I need to know about?" he demanded. I was just starting to sweat when he gave a deep belly laugh. "I'm only joking. I must admit, though, I did not expect such a reaction out of you on deck." He indicated one of the thick steel bands around my torso. "If anything, I expected you to show us the reason for those."

My grin came out as more of a pained grimace. "I've worn these ever since I was captured." I flicked one of the bands, making it ring slightly. "It's gotten to where I barely feel them anymore."

Iroh raised an eyebrow. "Do they not pain you? I thought the sigils, like those on your cage, are designed to keep spirits away."

I had to laugh at that, a good, hard laugh that, if I was honest, was probably slightly tinged with madness and longing. Iroh just looked at me the whole time, his face a mixture of curiosity and wariness. "These?" I choked out, tapping a finger on one of the symbols emblazoned on my metal bands. "They are nothing more than superstition," I confided, still giggling to myself. "Fictitious nonsense to make paranoid men feel safer. They affect me no more than they affect you."

The old man narrowed his eyes at me. "But you are not like me, my friend. You are half-spirit."

I closed my eyes, momentarily dismayed. I should have known that Zuko would have told him; I was a fool for not thinking of it sooner. "How did the Prince figure it out?" I asked sourly.

"He would not say," Iroh answered mysteriously, and I got the feeling it frustrated him almost as much as it frustrated me. "Although the fact that you've remained unchanged since I was a mere boy hints at something amiss." He pointed to my arm and said, "That, and the strange red tattoos."

I smiled wryly at him. "I suppose that's true," I admitted, shifting my feet. "You're correct. I was born half-spirit, though I'll not say why," I hedged, hoping that his curiosity would keep him coming back. The Dragon of the West would be a powerful ally on this ship should I need one. Shun was a good man, but I needed to befriend someone with a little more sway with Zuko. The fact that I didn't know my own past was irrelevant at this point. "But as for the tattoos, they are traditional air bender tattoos; only strange to outsiders.

"But aren't they usually blue?"

Damn. This old man was sharp, not to mention well-read. "I'm not a traditional air bender. I think it's from my spirit side."

Iroh mulled this over for a few minutes. "Curious… So the glyphs don't bother you in the least?" When I shook my head no, he nodded, as if confirming something to himself. Then he asked if my hybrid ancestry showed itself any other way, and I was forced to lie.

"No, my extended life and fire bending are it," I told him. He readily believed me, stroking his short grey goatee thoughtfully, and I felt a little bad, much to my surprise. Why did I regret lying to this retired Fire Nation general? Still, I didn't regret it enough to tell him the truth, so I kept a straight face when he asked, "How extended exactly?"

I let an ornery grin leap into my eye. "I am old enough to remember when the four nations were still at peace. I was there when the Fire Nation first started invading. I fled to the Ba Sing Se, like so many others, but they caught up to us. Altogether, I am nearly 112 years old."

He goggled in amazement, and I had to keep from laughing out loud at his expression. Then a thought struck him, and he asked suddenly, "If you were born an air bender, but you can control fire, does that mean you can bend two elements?"

"No," I answered swiftly. "No one but the Avatar can bend more than a single element, half-spirit or not. And I never said I was born an air bender. Remember, I tricked everyone into thinking that I was the Avatar; I was given the tattoos so I would appear as a convincing decoy."

"Very clever," Iroh acknowledged. He seemed only half-present, lost in thought. I took the opportunity to fix everything I'd told him in my mind, so he wouldn't catch me in one of my lies later on. After a few minutes, he collected himself and smiled kindly at me. "Thank you for sharing with me. If only we could have talked in the fresh air, with a fresh pot of tea," he lamented. "Ah well. You have shared part of your story; let me return the favor."

I answered that I would be glad to listen, and he filled the next hour with tales of his exploits as a boy, his experiences in the war, and his life since his nephew's banishment. He was an interesting, deep man, full of wise insights and thoughts that I had never stopped to consider, even in my hundred and twelve years. Talking with him that day was easily the happiest period of my two years aboard Zuko's ship.

All too soon, it was time for him to go. Before he left, he made me an offer. "If my nephew will see reason, I would be glad to further your fire bending," he said, and I could see the honest goodness in his eyes, his simple desire to better the world around him. I put my hands together in the traditional Fire Nation custom and bowed.

"I would be honored to learn from the fabled Dragon of the West."

That made him smile. Then, promising another visit, he turned to leave me with the newly-warmed bucket of cleaning water and a guard assigned to secure me once I had finished bathing. I called after him, and he turned just before he opened the door.

"I have one request, General."

"Retired."

I took that as a go-ahead. "I would ask that you keep our discussion between us. If your nephew doesn't already know what I've told you, he should have to come to me to learn it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that for me to decide?" But then his eyes softened, and he gave a gravelly chuckle. "Don't worry; he doesn't listen to me much, anyway." And with that, he was gone.

Ignoring the scowl that told me the guard would rather be anywhere but babysitting me, I stood and looked into the depths of the bucket. My reflection peeked over the edge of the bucket at me, waving slightly with the motion of the ship. It had been a long, long time since I'd seen myself, and I peered closer curiously.

I slowly ran a hand over my bare head, eyeing my red arrow tattoo and wondering how it had become so dirty and dingy. My face was that of a twelve-year-old, but my eyes were horribly out of place: they were filled with over a hundred years' experience of pain, loneliness, and suffering. I looked away before I could gaze too deeply into myself. My features were sunken and gaunt, the face of a prisoner. Using the cloth, I tried to scrub away the worst of the filth, dirt, and accumulated oil.

Next, I moved on to my arms and rough hands. My nails were actually fairly clean, though ragged and long. My arrows wrapped up around my wiry limbs, but instead of passing under my arms and stretching across my back to my spine, they swept up over my muscular shoulders and split around my neck. One end stretched into a network of spires and curves that ended just below my nipples, making one big mat of red whorls across my toned chest. The other end stretched down almost to the small of my back, with a wing-shaped pattern over each shoulder blade.

I washed as best I could, toying with an idea as I did so. Making up my mind, I turned to the guard and told him I was ready. He secured me with a swiftness born of an eagerness to be gone and left. When I could no longer hear his footsteps ringing on the metal floors, I closed my eyes and began to meditate as best I could.

Before long, I could feel the change overtaking me. I winced-it had been awhile- and a flash of red lit up the room as my tattoos gave a quick pulse. Not quite sure if I was dreaming, breathless with excitement, I slowly opened my eyes and looked into the bucket of water at my feet. What I saw nearly had me cheering; I'd have jumped for joy if I could've. I quickly concentrated and watched my features return to normal, except for one important thing: for the first time in nearly a hundred years, I was smiling with pure, exultant joy.