The Second Avatar
Introduction
Some things you should know before your read this series; it takes place some time after Zuko and General Zhao faced off in an Agni Kai in the series. This story literally interjects itself into the actual story-line of Avatar: The Last Airbender I can't tell you yet if it will keep following the series's plotline, but more-or-less it should. This fanfic started after I had spent a few days watching the series from beginning to end, and i typed the first chapter and part of the second in one sitting. I shared the story with my amazing penpal, Rikki, and she went through and was a complete goddess and edited and corrected my grammar mistakes. I owe much of the (I think it is, anyways, i hope you do, too, even just a little, xD) story's awesomeness to her. Now I know why authors spaz out and dedicate a page in their book to their editors; they really do deserve it.
Anyways, Zuko still has his bald head with the pony tail in back; you can roughly timeline the whole cartoon series by his hair, xD I also apologize if he or anyone else seems nudged out-of-character. Maybe i'm just paranoid, but i really do try hard not to. Constructive reviews are gladly appreciated; don't be afraid to be blunt, i'll just be happy you took the time to share your opinion with us.
Ah, and because i've noticed other people warning readers about it, yes, this story does use OC's. There may or may not be any pairings that weren't in the original series.
And now, onto the story...
Chapter one:
The trade
It was a dimly lit morning, fog crawling in lazy, mysterious clouds over the wide spread of ocean. For such a large ship, the beast was made so small and insignificant when compared to the vast, seemingly endless expanse of ocean; even other Fire Nation ships. Newer, bigger, better models had been built in the three years that had passed since the banished prince's leaving. Just another thing for the young man to frown about. Four figures occupied the deck of the metal boat, all but one dressed in typical Fire Nation military uniforms. The oddball out was an older, big-bellied man, calmly sipping his tea and watching the darkened clouds slowly congeal into one large mass. Beams of light still protruded from the fluffy masses in bright, shimmery rays upon the glimmering water of the sea, occasionally lighting up parts of the ship in fleeting spurts of sunshine. However, this minimal amount of sun was not enough to chase off the chill of the early morning or to cast aside the bluish tones that tried to trick one into thinking it was still night.
"Prince Zuko, waiting in the cold morning air will not bring us any closer to land. How about a nice cup of tea? Come, sit down, and relax with your uncle." The old man spoke out to his younger nephew. He knew the words were most likely futile, but there was always the off chance his nephew would take him up on the offer. It had happened before, on occasion, when Zuko was in one of his rare good moods. The figure Iroh had spoke out to did not reply for a short, fleeting moment that seemed to drag on into the silence of the still air, the only noises being the clunking and clanking sounds of the ship's inner workings and the splashing of water against the metal beasts hull.
"I know he's out there, uncle." Zuko replied, eyes staring tirelessy out into the endless seas, always searching. His voice was serious, focused. They had lost three days of their travels, something the boy truly regretted. However, stopping at harbor to replenish their dwindling supplies had been necessary. Despite this, the crew was still short on fresh water. The purifying system below deck that took in salt water and filtered it to a safe drinkable state had been badly damaged in an unfortunate explosion caused by a leaking gas pipe. It was one bad event after another, it seemed. This old hunk of metal was falling apart-ten years at sea had put her in a state of antiquity, and only three of those had been under Zuko's command.
Iroh opened his mouth to speak, holding his cup of steaming tea in both hands on pause; but before he could get a word out one of the crew members stepped out onto the deck and called for Zuko's attention. A bold move in itself, however necessary.
"What is it?" Zuko demanded, turning in his stance to look at the older crew member. It was hard to tell at times that the boy was only at the young age of sixteen. He was the youngest person aboard the ship and also the one in command of everything. His eyes spoke of anger and turmoil, the red, flame-shaped scar on his left eye in stark contrast to his pale skin. He viewed the mark as a painful and humiliating reminder of the shame and dishonor he had merited, the bane of his existence.
"We received a transmission from a nearby ship. General Zhao is going to be crossing paths with us, and wishes to have an audience with you and your uncle. He says that it is something important."
"Did he say anything else?" Zuko prompted, no sooner than the man had finished speaking. Iroh lifted his head, eyes narrowing subtly at the crew-members words as he turned his gaze back down to the rippling tea in the cup he held. If he had an opinion, he didn't voice it.
"No, sir. They are about an hour away from us."
"Very well." Zuko glanced over at his uncle-the man had fallen silent, which meant he was thinking. He turned his attention back to what the crew member had told him, thinking. What would General Zhao want with him and his ship? They were far from being anything close to friends. Scowling, Zuko turned back to the expanse of sea ahead of them. Or rather, what he could see of it. The white fog still clung all around them, the effect accentuated by the dark, swirling clouds above. A storm was coming.
About an hour later, true to the crewman's words, a shadow broke through the fog ahead. Zuko felt himself tense-something wasn't right about this whole setup, he just knew it. Zhao was definitely up to something.
He couldn't help but feel another shot to his tortured pride when the massive hulk of his rival's ship came ever closer-a good four to five times the size of his, and ten times the crew. Zuko's boat was poorly undermanned; but at least the crew were hard-working and loyal. The prince would never openly admit to it; but he did care for his men, though he rarely showed itl. Perhaps that was one of the reasons his rag-tag team had been together for so many long, difficult years; the acts of kindness Zuko sometimes showed were all the more merited and truly genuine. And then there was his uncle-it was hard not to like the man, and he offered breaks from the prince's serious attitude and gloomy moods.
Zuko lifted his gaze, hands clasped tightly behind his back and feet placed shoulder-width apart, his uncle standing next to him in a much more casual, relaxed air, still holding onto a cup of hot tea. His eyes met with those of a smug, smirking, older man, standing in a similar stance but more confident, demeaning to the people around him. Zuko's crew had already brought their ship to a halt in the swishing waters, and now it was Zhao's turn to order his boat to a standstill. A loud, metallic, scraping noise broke the otherwise quiet morning air, offending in its disturbance of the still quiet. The noise came from a hinged metal ramp as it was raised up out of its storage slot; the edge of the long metal plank was laid down on the rim of Zuko's barge. A few barked orders and chatter from the opposing ship; and now Zuko, his grandfather, and one other uniformed man were walking across the ramp to the rival bardge.
"Aaaah, Prince Zuko! A pleasure to see you as always," said the man that greeted them on deck with a demeaning tone to his voice, his sideburns as flamboyantly formidable as always. Iroh watched his nephew's face flinch, brows-well, one of them, anyway, the other was nonexistent after being burned off-furrowing tightly, a customary frown upon the boy's face.
"I don't suppose you're here for tea-time," Zuko retorted sharply, much to his uncle's dismay. Zhao's smirk stayed plastered on his malevolent face.
"No, I don't suppose we are. So, why don't we just get down to business? I would like to have a... private conversation, with your uncle, if he'd be so kind."
Zuko opened his mouth to speak; but Iroh held up a hand, eyes closing for a moment. "A fresh cup of tea would be appreciated. I am curious to hear your story on why you have gone out of your way to see us. This is quite the surprise, I am honored."
"Yes, indeed it is quite the surprise." There was emphasis on the word 'surprise' that Zuko didn't like; but for once, he kept his mouth shut, casting a look to his uncle. Sometimes it was just impossible to figure out what that man was thinking. Zhao turned his snake-like gaze to Zuko, the grin on his face shifting into an infuriating smirk.
"Prince Zuko, perhaps you'd care to take a tour of my ship. It would be a pleasant excursion for you to see the wonders of modern-day advancements."
"I think I'll pass." Zuko deadpanned, glaring. His fists clenched tighter, chest tightening. A small burst of flame appeared in the air by his hands where none had been previously, sparks seeming to fly off its furious, flickering tips before vanishing into thin air. The fire died down almost as soon as it had come. Zhao seemed to take the hint, had been expecting it, even. With a final glance to the rage-filled prince, the general turned his attention away, beckoning to Zuko's uncle.
"Iroh, if you'll come with me."
With a final warning glance to his nephew, Iroh turned his attention back to Zhao, giving a customary bow: one hand flat with the thumb folded in, the bottom of his palm just touching the other hand, which was closed into a fist. In silence, Zhao and three of his men walked with the old man and out of sight, into the ship. Zuko scoffed lightly, looking away from the two, not willing to admit even to himself that he already missed his uncle's calming presence.
Zhao stepped into the generously spaced, cozy office, all metal floors and walls and red and black that represented the Fire Nation so well. He took his seat at what could half-jokingly be referred to as a throne behind a wide, flat desk made of dark wood. An ink well, brushes, and stacks of paper neatly adorned its polished surface. Iroh followed suit, sitting down in the notably simpler and shorter chair across from Zhao and his desk.
After a moment of silence, the two men regarding each other, with Iroh's calm gaze unbreaking and Zhao's customary smug smirk still evident, Zhao finally spoke:
"Iroh, it is good to see you. It's been nearly a year." Iroh gave a small nod of his head, eyes closing for a moment before he answered.
"General Zhao, I see you are in good health. I would hate to keep my nephew waiting. Why don't we get to the point of this visit?" He said in reply, a wise glimmer in his eyes as he spoke, watching the younger man.
Zhao scowled, knowing the games were over. Such a shame. "Fine, then. You have something I want, and I believe I have something of equal interest and value."
"Oh?" Iroh replied, leaning back in the chair, taking a sip of the tea that had just been poured for him by a crew member. He had accepted it while Zhao was talking with a softly murmured thank-you.
"I've heard rumors," Zhao began, a dark glimmer appearing in his eyes like that of a wickedly sly fox, hungry for whatever it was he wanted, "that you and your nephew have spotted the Avatar." Silence rang throughout the room as Zhao's voice faded dramatically into the silence; Iroh's eyes narrowed slightly.
"To take such a long journey out of your way to visit us, based upon idle rumors, is quite the desperate gamble, General Zhao. If this is all you wanted, then I believe my nephew and I will take our leave."
After a briefly scowling at Iroh's words of a 'desperate gamble', Zhao's smug grin returned, even stronger; exaggerated. The general leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head; he looked up from Iroh to stare off into space.
"Ah. Such a shame, then. I thought a warm-hearted man like you would be more… compassionate, for the girl's sake. A true shame, really. Some of my men have been talking of taking her for a little field trip, if you know what I mean." His eyes searched Iroh's face, looking for signs of the older man's soft heart taking to the bait. There, right there. A flicker of pain, sympathy, in the old man's eyes, just before they narrowed into suspicious coals.
"What is it you are getting at here, general Zhao." What should have been a question sounded more like a statement.
Zhao smirked. Good, he'd taken the bait. "I'm glad you asked. My men and I picked up a very unusual prisoner a few weeks back. She has quite the pretty face, but there is something more… unique, about her. Never-the-less, i have already made arrangements to sell her off to a man who dawdles in the market a bit. Quite the pretty penny she'll fetch, if my men don't get to her first. Of course, her life could be of interest to you. It's not common at all that one comes upon a child who can bend not one, but two elements. Wind and water, an unusual combination. We originally thought she was the Avatar, but her limit is two, and she bears no airbender tattoos. There is also the matter of her gender, being that the current reincarnate is a boy."
Iroh's eyes visibly widened at this, his cup stopping on its trip to his lips. His calm expression soon returned, and he took a sip from his halted tea, mulling this over. He did not reply, waiting for Zhao to continue.
"Perhaps… I wonder, your Nephew could bring this girl to his father; perhaps a prodigy almost as rare as the avatar himself would be enough to redeem his honor. Or you just have a soft enough heart to keep the girl out of the hands of people who would be notably less careful with her." Zhao's disgusting smirk returned, eyes showing he was so very confident of his dominance in this discussion. He would win this easily; there were few people as manipulative as himself.
"Hmm. And I suppose in exchange for this prisoner of yours, you want information about the Avatar?" Iroh asked dully, voice void of emotion.
Zuko looked up as his uncle stepped out of the ship's cabin alongside General Zhao, who wore an even more smug smirk on his face than before. He noted that Iroh's expression was darker than it had been before leaving to converse with Zhao-something had happened, and his grandfather was either upset over something he'd heard or said, or more likely was dreading his nephew's reaction to what had transpired. And yet… there was something… different. Something had clearly changed in his uncle's demeanor. Like he was acting a part, not to be revealed until after Zhao's annoying presence had left them alone. The two men walked over to Zuko, who pushed off from his position leaning on the side-railing of the ship's bow with his arms folded tightly across his chest.
A commotion picked up from the back end of the ship, and a scraping noise that sounded like someone dragging heavy metal across the like-materialed floor of the ship's deck. Iroh lifted his gaze from his teacup to look over, his expression like that of someone who had just bought a new tiger-horse without ever seeing what the creature looked like. This gave Zuko a small pang of alarm-what had his uncle and Zhao talked about, exactly? He waited expectantly, eyes narrowing to thin slits as the scene of interest came into view:
Two soldiers were dragging a young boy out from below deck. His hair was messy and disheveled; smears of soot, dirt, and blood covered his face. A metal band covered the prisoner's mouth, apparently preventing him from speaking out. Heavy metal gauntlets covered the boy's hands, and a tight fabric band wrapped around the lad's chest and pinned his arms further from moving. They were secured behind his back, chains draping down from the cuffs to cross around his knees and then connect to shackles around each of the boy's ankles. As the trio neared, a group of men cautiously trailing behind them, Zuko realized with slight shock that 'he' was actually a 'she.' Interesting, but gender was fairly irrelevant in this situation. He was curious as to why the event was even taking place, and why the prisoner was being brought over to them. Had Zhao discussed a prisoner transfer, or a trade of some sort? And more importantly, who was she?
He turned his attention to Zhao, eyes glaring, strong chest rising and falling in a heavy, tensed breath. "What is this all about?"
Zhao returned Zuko's glare with a smirk. "Seems your uncle has a softer heart than I thought. The information on the location of the avatar he gave was a fair trade enough for this girl's life. I wonder what goes on in your ship, Prince Zuko, that he would be so interest-"
"You-!" Zuko interrupted viciously, about to lunge forward when Iroh placed a restraining arm between the two of them.
"Enough, Prince Zuko. What is done is done." Something in his uncle's eyes stopped him- Iroh knew something he didn't.
Zhao's smug, victorious expression only seemed to grow at Zuko's outburst. "Well, it seems some of us can keep a cool head. Iroh, I'll leave the prisoner's care to you now." The general turned, and with a wave to his men, walked away, arms folded calmly behind his back. He shouted to his crew, telling them to change direction and set their course for a familiar place.
A very familiar place. Zuko realized with dismay and anger that he and his uncle had visited there in search of the avatar a few weeks ago. What exactly had his uncle told them?
He looked over to the shackled girl, already detesting her presence, wondering of her origins and just generally being his usual distrusting self. Well, then. The man that had accompanied the prince and his uncle across the boarding ramp stepped forward, taking hold of the girl's arm from the two men, who all-too-gladly stepped away from her. Zuko turned, scowling, blood boiling at Zhao's infuriatingly successful attempts to provoke him, and followed Iroh onto the ramp as they began to cross over to their own ship. He had to turn and help his crew member bring the girl up onto the ramp-she was all but limp, feet dragging across the ground. From the looks of it she was nearly starved. Zuko couldn't help but notice that even he treated prisoners with better care, though it was far from 'friendly.' He glanced at her face as she lifted it to look meekly over her shoulder at the ship she was leaving. His gaze was greeted with the girl's as her fierce eyes turned back towards him, as if daring him to say something. What was most intriguing, however, was their colors. One was a swirling, almost opalescent blue, like moonlight; the other was a deep, true blue like that of the ocean. Her eyes almost gave the illusion that she was blind, as the colors seemed to blend in with her pupils.
Zuko turned after she was walking across the ramp, steadily following his uncle over it. His grandfather stepped down, just as Zhao's ship began to move. The ramp gave a scraping noise as it slide first to the side, the three people still on it trying to regain their footing, before the hinged ramp suddenly dropped out from under them. That bastard! Zuko's hand caught on the side rim of his ship, but the shackled prisoner and the other man dropped down into the ocean waters below with startled cries.
"Dammit!" Zuko growled, a flick of fire coming from one clenched fist as he let go of the railing. His uncle gave a shout to the other crewmen, only stopping afterwards to give a decisive glare to a certain general who stood, arms clasped behind his back, smirking over at them as his men pulled the metal ramp back up over the railing and let it slide down into its slot.
The water greeted Zuko with its icy, frigid embrace as he dove down into it, bubbles swirling up all around him. He could see two struggling figures swiftly starting to sink into the darkness of the deep ocean waters, and he swam down, grabbing the arm of his crewman and then turning to the girl. She was struggling in vain; the heavy metal enclosing her limbs was dragging her down and inhibiting her movements too much to allow her any chance of surfacing on her own. Eyes opened wide at Zuko, terrified, before she shook her head, as if trying to signal him to do something. On impulse, Zuko slipped his arm down under hers, legs kicking to try and swim with the other man to bring her up to the surface. His lungs were already starting to burn dully as the flickering surface of the water overhead and the bulky hull of his ship grew farther and farther away. With a scowl, he wanted to shout at the woman to stop squirming; she wasn't making this any easier, and he was concerned for his crewman's breath. He had been down precious seconds longer than Zuko, after all.
For reasons that escaped him, perhaps by some odd distant instinct, Zuko finally reached out, and with a jerk of his wrist tore the mouth covering from the girl's face. She stilled for a moment, just before letting out a rushed breath. A pocket of air suddenly grew, and before they knew it, Zuko, the girl, and the crew member's heads were all surrounded in a large bubble of air. The three took in needed breaths, water dripping down their faces. An airbender? Impossible! The only person Zuko knew of that could airbend was the avatar, and he was nowhere near here. Was she some descendant that had escaped the brutal invasion from the Fire Nation a hundred years ago, wiping out all life in the air temples? A strong flash of shock coursed through the young man at this as he gave a tug upwards, trying to bring the three of them closer to the fading surface. This wasn't working. With a determined growl, he pushed the crew member's arm off of the girl. The man gave his commander a confused expression, worry flashing in his eyes. "Get going! Go, go!" Zuko snapped, urging the man away. With a pause that seemed to drag on into eternity, the man finally gave a nervous nod, then began to swim up and away after taking a breath from the pocket of air. Zuko closed his eyes, preparing himself, then shifted, curling an arm tightly around the airbender's waist and shot his other arm straight down. A burst of flame shot out from his hand straight into the water, bubbles of steam rising. The flames flickered and started to die, before a bubble of air started to curl around Zuko's hand, and the fire grew once more. They started to lift, the surface above beginning to come closer.
Kaite, the man who had gone down with the shackled captive, took a gasping breath as he surfaced, waving an arm up into the air and letting out a shout. A ladder dropped down from Zuko's boat, and he swam over, grabbing onto it and looking down into the dark waters, searching for any signs of his commander and the prisoner, alarm flaring up in his chest, heart pounding. As much as he desperately wanted to stay and be of some help, he knew he couldn't. The soilder turned, beginning to climb up the ladder, body shaking and shivering, numb from the cold seawater. It wasn't long before hands were hauling him up and over onto the solid deck of the ship, relief flooding his body before fear for the others took over. He tried to sit up, but the hands stopped him, and instead carefully lifted him up, beginning to haul him away.
"F-forg-give me," he mumbled, teeth clattering, eyes closing tight. It felt like he was just abandoning them, abandoning his commander to the frigid waters of the ocean. He would give himself hell if the boy didn't surface; being Zuko, he probably would. But for fire's sake, if he didn't...
Zuko's head was the second to break the surface, shortly followed by the girl's; his arm shot out to grab onto the rope ladder that dangled down into the water. He latched on with a clenched fist, and with a grunt hauled himself up and onto it, the weight of the girl and her metal accoutrements suddenly growing heavier as his muscles strained to lift her out of the water, where gravity was considerably lighter. Shouting above, and the ladder wobbled as men began to pull it up. Zuko shifted with a heavy breath, bringing the girl up and placing her more-or-less over his shoulder, grasping the dowels of the ladder with both hands now, feet firmly placing down onto the wood as he began to climb. Agonizingly long moments later, the two were pulled over the side of the ship and onto the deck. In all the commotion, Zuko took the moment to just breathe, allowing the hands to help for just a second before shoving them away.
"Get off me! I'm fine," he snapped, voice exasperated and tired and in no way conveying that he was 'fine.' He brushed some of the water from his face, closing his eyes and letting a breath of fire heat his insides, a spurt of it whooshing out from parted lips. Uncle Iroh hurried over, draping a heavy wool blanket over his shoulders. Zuko shrugged it off almost immediately, tossing it over the girl's form. She was shaking her head in an apparent attempt to dry off, spraying the men with water as a hoarse cough escaped her lips. Iroh held something out to Zuko; a key. He turned his attention to the young woman, quickly running over the situation. Let her out of her shackles and get her dried off and below deck, or leave the now-ice-cold metal to sap away what heat her body had left in it. Without saying anything he snatched the slim metal object that dangled off a chain from his uncle, and knelt down, soaking wet, next to the girl. He stuck the key into the slot on her leg shackles, twisting it and watching as the metal fell with a loud clang onto the deck, the chains rattling. The arms were next, as well as a metal choker clasped tightly around her neck. She let out a gasp of air, limbs pulling out and away from the chains and metal enclosings. Zuko braced himself, prepared for any gust of win-
Well, at least he'd been prepared; his men had not. The woman had stood up, and with a sudden shaky, fluid downward swing of her arms had blown all the water from her clothes and the area around her. The gust of wind blew over Zuko and the men, many of them stumbling down. His uncle grunted, holding up an arm in front of his face and leaning forward into the blast. Fire flew out from Zuko's fingertips on reflex, but quickly died down. The girl slipped, falling with a thud back down onto the deck. The men surrounding them had quickly come into defensive stances, ready to let fire fly from their bodies out at the prisoner.
"You c-could at least th…thank me!" she snapped, voice shaking as she turned a glare up to Zuko. A tired expression came over her features shortly afterwards, and with a sudden flick of her wrist, water lifted off the dec-water? Zuko's eyes widened in disbelief. Alarmed, one of the men began to attack, just as crystals of salt and small debris dropped down out of the little blob of liquid and onto the deck in a small pile, and the water flew through the air and into the girl's open mouth.
"Stop!" Zuko's hand shot out, grasping the man's arm and jerking it down. The shot of fire flared down onto the deck, its red tendrils curling up into the air before they vanished. The men looked to Zuko with confused expressions, or at least the ones who weren't wearing helmets.
Iroh was already, annoyingly, by the woman's side, pulling the wool blanket up over her shoulders and helping her up. She was a prisoner, not a houseguest. But something that had just happened caught Zuko's interest, in more ways than one. She had airbended, and waterbended. The second thing that had occurred to him, quite randomly, was when he had watched her cleanse the water of salt and drink it. His mind had made the connection between that event and the fact that they were running desperately low on drinking water.
"Uncle, who is she? What did you tell Zhao, and what is going on here?" he demanded, eyes flicking over to the girl as she began coughing, then back to his uncle. Two of the men were already hauling up the ladder, rolling it up to be used another day.
"Mm, perhaps we could discuss this after we get her some clean, dry clothes," said Iroh, though it was evident the girl was already dried off. She was barefoot, currently only wearing a short, black, tattered chemise and the wool blanket Iroh had given her. The girl shifted, flinching away from the people on the deck, eyes flitting nervously around the men surrounding her, distrust lingering in her features before her icy gaze settled back onto Zuko; it was torn away as she let out another cough.
Zuko scowled, temper flaring, before he turned away, waving a hand up. "Fine. Just remember that she is a prisoner, and not a guest," he said icily, glancing back to his uncle before turning and walking away.
End of chapter one
