A/N: Okay, don't own Avatar: Last Air bender, or Nickelodeon for that matter. This is original, and here's the full summary.
A crash left them stranded, halted in the search of a decent Earth Bender. But the Avatar and his friends are not the only one caught up in the storm's wake. As the Fire Nation encroaches on more and more territory, can the help of a reclusive tribe and its protective leader help the Avatar defeat the Fire Nation?
Pairings: OC, Zuko?(prolly Katara)
Without A Nation
Part one:Caught in the Storm's Wake
Chapter One: Unwanted Waves
The storm came suddenly, without warning and soon unrelenting. The rain poured not in buckets but torrents, as if trying to drown the earth. The winds howled as they traded ocean for land. All life stopped its thoughts and instinct sough for shelter.
Iroh sipped on his tea gratefully, staring at the fire for a moment. Taking a quick glance around the hut, he sighed. It was large, with a main room and two rooms off to each side. There was also a deck of sorts outside. Within though, it boasted of tribal art that hung on the walls, as well as various weapons. The fire pit in the center of the room provided warmth that soothed. Incense thrown into the blaze elicited calm from the spirit, no matter how troubled.
Iroh then looked at the old friend that sat across the fire, also sipping on tea. He kept his white hair in a low ponytail, beard thin but long, mustache to accompany it. His dark, hindering eyes stared into the fire, the flames flickering back in his irises. Wearing tradition black clothing, one arm, his bow arm, bandaged from palm to shoulder, was bare and open to the world. A staff rested at his side, one that bore notches and threads and other decorations. At the end, it was larger, a club. The round, smooth surface was darkened, and not by age.
Atobai.
"So, Iroh," Atobai said conversationally; "What brings you here? Surely you do not bring word that war has finally reached us…"
"No, no, war shall never reach this place," Iroh said with a laugh, half-hearted but heartfelt none the less.
"Then please, retell you story to me…"
Iroh sighed; "Zhao has finally vanished, but not without great cost. My brother, Lord of the Fire Nation, is furious. He has blamed my nephew. For the past month, I… we, have been running. Running away from certain death, but these old bones of mine cannot take much more," he added jokingly; "The Army did catch up, though, while I was in town purchasing supplies. Zuko was alone, and handled well for himself. He cannot go out into the public, as you know, for his scar… well anyway, he had managed well, but when I reached the scene, he was badly burned and beaten. I quickly purchased the means of travel, and sough for you…"
"But why, old friend? There were so many places…" Atobai said with a sigh, clearly displeased that, although Iroh was a trusted friend, his small village was now at risk for harboring such a fugitive.
With another small sigh, Atobai said; "Where is he?"
Iroh smirked; "Outside. He won't come in."
Atobai nodded, setting his tea down carefully before rising. Picking up his staff he walked to the front and pushed back the flap. The young Prince was sitting on the deck, beneath the awning, glaring into the distance. He was burned in several places, mostly his arms, his bare chest. His clothing was singed and he was bleeding… And he sat there, silent, not a tear that fell from his eyes as he stared off.
Atobai's brow furrowed in disappointment and brief pity as he carefully studied Zuko. Strong, but beaten, he sufficed. And such a foolish young man, he thought as he walked over; "Stand up."
Zuko looked up at the old man defiantly. "What?" he asked.
In a flash the staff had whacked his shoulder, a burn. Zuko turned away and hissed, overcome for a moment;" Stand. Up." Atobai replied; "Or must I help you?"
"Leave me," Zuko said hoarsely.
"Leave you? I would want nothing more," Atobai said, and this caused Zuko to look up; "You are a threat to my tribe, Zuko," Atobai said quietly, reverently; "Your father has sought after me for decades. Finding this haven now… it would mean death to too many. But your uncle is a dear friend, and I trust him. Therefore I trust you, and now, I am going to get you help for your wounds."
The old man held out a thin, scarred hand. "Trust has nothing to do with compassion," Zuko said bitterly as he helped himself up. He swayed, wobbled on his good foot, and Atobai held out his staff for the young man to grasp. Zuko did and steadied.
"Ah, it has everything to do with Compassion, Zuko," He explained; "I trust that you will never tell a soul of this place. You trust that I will help you and not kill you instead. It is this unconscious trust that sparks relative compassion. I pity you, anyways," he said as he turned, intent on reentering the hut.
"I don't need pity!" Zuko said angrily, water evaporating off of his skin.
Slowly, calmly, Atobai turned and faced the Prince again; "Zuko, here you are no Prince of any nation. You are Zuko, an injured young man with a head full of steam and a heart full of fire. Now, you will respect me for I am countless years older than you. Now, let us go inside. The rain is not letting up, and this weather is poor for your situation."
Atobai held the flap open as Zuko hobbled in, fuming still. Iroh cast a wary glance at Atobai as he led Zuko to a side room, but the old man merely nodded slightly.
"I will find a healer for you," Atobai said as he exited the side room. The door slid shut behind him without a reply from Zuko. He sat down, placed his staff on the floor at his side, and picked up his tea again, as if nothing had happened.
"Well… when will you get a healer?" Iroh asked.
"My granddaughter will be coming home soon, Iroh, and she may tend to him," Atobai explained; "She would be the only one who could handle him, anyway."
"I did not know you had a granddaughter, Atobai, or any children for that matter…"
"I did have a daughter, and a wife, once," Atobai explained; "but this silly war takes everything from everyone, does it not?"
Iroh looked away with guilt. He had no idea his old friend had been so horribly affected by the war. Now, looking at Atobai again, he saw the pain, and knew his wrongs to be tenfold his last imagining.
"I'm deeply mortified by my Nation's actions, Atobai," he said reverently.
"Which is why you have sided with your nephew," Atobai said wisely as he sipped his tea; "But no, my granddaughter sought for me when her parents were killed. She has been here since she was 12, and is sixteen now."
"Hmm… Zuko is sixteen," Iroh mumbled absently.
"Zuko is head strong and too analytical," Atobai said; "He would make an impressive Lord."
"Yes, he who would be King," Iroh said; "You do know he has a sister?"
"No, I had no idea."
Aang was trying to control the air around them, a safe bubble in the middle of this sudden storm. Katara and Sokka held on, helpless. Once again, he was the one to save them. Not that Aang cared, it was his duty. But right now, being the Avatar was not an upstanding title.
Appa let out a shrill moan as the water stung at his eyes. Aang had let a window open in the bubble, and the bison was suffering; "Appa, yip yip!" Aang said loudly, though his voice betrayed his inner anxieties.
Katara held the reigns though they did little in controlling the great bison;" Aang, we need to land!" she screamed, just as Appa took a nose dive.
Aang lost his balance and the bubble of protective air was gone. Suddenly the weather rushed them and they were caught. Appa let out a distressing call before plummeting, hoping not to land in the water and risk drowning.
There was a forest; Sokka could make it out through the rain and sleet. Making his way to the front, he grabbed the reigns and desperately tried to steer. He glanced at his sister. Katara was clutching both Aang and Momo and at the same time holding onto the side of the large saddle. With renewed motivation Sokka pulled on the reigns.
But it was too late…
And they crashed.
Iroh nodded; "If Zuko does not bring the avatar to my brother, then he is forever banished and Zula will take over."
"Really?" Atobai said with casual interest, not really caring. The situations regarding the fire nation concerned him little, unless the situation involved his tribe.
Iroh nodded again. He was about to speak when someone came bursting through the door. It could have been no one else other than Naomi. She wore primarily black clothing. A shirt that dipped down and hung loosely around her shoulders like a shawl, bandages tinted mauve that started above her breasts. Her arms past her elbow to her palms were bandaged as well with the same fabric. She wore a black skirt and black pants, along with black boots. She held a staff in her hand with the remnants of a jagged blade. Her long, dark brown hair hung past her shoulders, with two braids with ribbons woven into them. Behind her bangs were dark blue eyes that shone with a fiery passion unbridled by the irises.
"Grandfather!" she gasped, obviously out of breath.
"What?" Atobai asked concernedly, rising at the fear in his granddaughter's voice.
"There has been an accident!" Naomi continued, gathering her composure.
"An Accident? Where? With who?" Atobai now feared the worst of someone, judging from her state.
"No one of our knowing! There are three people injured, a girl and two boys. Plus a Bison, and a lemur!" she added; "The boy, the youngest… he had such a strange tattoo, grandfather!"
"Has a party been sent out?"
Naomi shook her head; "I came across them on my way back," she said; "I came straight to you," she stood up to whisper in his ear; "I fear it may be the Avatar, grandfather."
Atobai's eyes narrowed. That was not what he wanted to hear. Walking over he picked up his staff; "Naomi," he said lowly; "In the left room, there is a young man in need of your abilities. He is burned and fatigued."
"Grandfather…" Naomi said slowly, finally taking the time to see Iroh.
"Hello," Iroh said, bowing his head as he rose; "I am Gen'ral Iroh of the…"
"I know who you are," the girl all but spat with disdain; "what is he doing here?" she asked, looking at Atobai for answers.
"He is an old friend, Naomi," Atobai explained as he donned on a cloak; "Go tend to his nephew."
Naomi's jaw dropped; "PRINCE ZUKO!" she asked incredulously; "Let him die!" she said bitterly; "I don't care how bad…"
Swiftly Atobai's staff came and hit Naomi's leg, sending her to her knees; "Such talk, Naomi," Atobai said scornfully "what were you taught?"
"He's fire nation!" Naomi insisted heatedly; "I won't be caught in the same hut with any of them! None!"
"Naomi, I command you to help the boy in that room!" Atobai nodded, then he turned to Iroh; "Excuse my granddaughter of her rudeness. We do not receive guests often," he looked at Naomi and pointed his staff in the direction of the room, and then left the hut.
Naomi stood there fuming, her hands gripping her staff so tightly her knuckles turned white. She glared at Iroh, who sat by the fire drinking his tea innocently, and then glanced at the door. Sighing, she walked over to a shelving unit, picked up a large chest, and walked over to the room to tend to Zuko.
Zuko had heard the yelling, it had woken him from his unsettled slumber. With a groan he tried to roll over, but the burn on his back would not allow it. With a hissing groan he glared at the wall, incapable of anything else. He listened to the argument, heard the girl's obvious contempt for him… but what had he done to her? He had never harmed anyone, unless they had been in his way of the Avatar…which seemed a pointless chase at the moment, Zuko figured.
Already it had become evident that his father felt little for his son and had replaced him in his quest for the Avatar. In reality, Zuko was already dead to his only remaining bloodline. His sister never counted; she had never considered him a sibling and in turn, he had never recognized her of her blood status. The only family he had was his Uncle Iroh, and though he did not show it well, he cared a good deal for his uncle.
Zuko closed his eyes and exhaled heavily, blowing steam through his nostrils. The door opened then and he feigned sleep, controlling his chest to rise and fall slowly. Footsteps like light breezes graced past him, and something firm and heavy was placed on the floor some feet away. Soon he smelt fire, could feel its energy dancing about in the flames, and it soothed him a great deal. Zuko sighed, willing himself to relax.
Naomi glanced at the wounded back of the Fire Prince. She felt nothing but contempt for the young man, and yet she could not bring her self to glare. She saw nothing more than a wounded soldier now, someone in need of her help. Silently she opened up the chest and removed several herbs and vials, and a small cauldron. Balancing it on a small rack above the fire, she then poured water into it. For a moment she let the water boil, and then took the cauldron off of the fire. Pouring some of the steaming contents into a bowl, she then emptied a vial, and then drained the water slowly, letting it evaporate in the flames. She then ground up herbs and added them into the concoction, by now beginning to hum a distant lullaby she had learned from her mother.
Zuko heard the lullaby and a distant memory was brought to the surface of his thoughts. He felt carried, rocked, soothed, nestled between the crook of an arm and the heart of a mother. The voice he heard was soon replaced by one long ago lost to death. Bitterly Zuko willed it away.
"Would you stop that?" he asked irately, and silence was his reply.
For a moment; "Stop what?" Naomi retorted, picking up the bowl and several rolls of bandages before heading over to Zuko.
"That infernal humming," Zuko grumbled, feeling the weight of Naomi kneeling beside his back. "What are you doing?" he asked, turning his head around to look at her.
Naomi looked up and stared at the golden eye for a moment, "Helping you," she replied, and Zuko looked away.
"You don't want to," he muttered. He hissed at the coolness of the salve, the concoction Naomi had just created. But soon the pain of the contact subsided, and his burn was numb.
"Who did this to you?" Naomi asked quietly, having never seen burns so severe. They had reached muscle, though only in one spot she could see.
Zuko averted his gaze, despite the fact that she couldn't see his face; "Soldiers," he said quietly.
Naomi nodded as she placed a bandage; "You'll have to sit up for a moment. Are you able?"
Zuko didn't reply. He sat up, precariously on his lower arm, and the pushed off the ground. But as he began to fall from fatigue, gentle hands caught his side, and helped him up. Naomi supported his weight by leaning him against her gently, and wrapped his torso with bandages.
"No one deserves this," Naomi muttered angrily as she continued to dress Zuko's wounds; "Not even you."
"What's that supposed to mean!" Zuko snapped, finding the strength to sit up on his own, and turn to face the girl. He glared at her heatedly.
She matched his gaze with a glare of her own. "Look at you," she said; "Think of who you are, and ask me that again."
"What's. That. Supposed. To. Mean?" Zuko repeated, slowly but not giving space for thought. Why should he?
"Just like Hell Fire," Naomi said with a sad shake of her head as she rose.
She left her things and exited the room, closing the door and leaving Zuko to himself. He glared at the door, where she had exited. Already he hated her. How dare she speak to him like that! It wasn't attractive, such blatant audacity and disrespect. But what she had said last echoed in his mind, and it puzzled him.
"Hell Fire," he breathed, letting it roll off his tongue with his exhale.
It fit him perfectly.
Atobai led the search party deeper into the forest, holding his cloak up to block the stinging rain. His cloak protected his torch, and others mimicked him. Silently they made their way through the dense underbrush, masters at the act. The call of a wounded bird signaled to the group that the crash had been found. Atobai turned left and went straight, quickly coming upon a group that stood around, waiting for him. Here, the branches were so thick it blocked the rain to a great degree, and Atobai lowered his cloak. Quickly he signed for the party to fan out, and to be cautious. When he was left alone, he turned, and saw the crash.
Atobai stepped out of the thick woods, allowing his torch to be killed by the fresh onslaught of rain. He studied the bison for a moment, and found it alive and breathing. Approaching closer, he found the body of a young man, possibly sixteen, in blue clothing. Water Nation, Atobai thought indifferently as he wiped rain from his eyes. Signally two men from the forest, they carefully picked the boy off and carried him to the village. Not far away lay a girl, possibly the boy's sister, clutching an unconscious lemur. He did the same for her as he had for the boy.
Atobai finally came across the person he sought after. Half-buried under foliage, have exposed to the elements, was the bruised form of the Avatar. Oh he's just a boy, Atobai thought, surprised at the boy's age. He is so tenderly young… Atobai knew his childhood had been stolen from him. Such a heavy burden, the old man thought as he picked up the Avatar—no, the child—himself, carefully placing him on his back, like giving Aang a piggy-back ride.
Swiftly Atobai began to leave the scene, but the same call of a wounded bird had him turning around and returning. Several men had gathered around the bison, which had now begun to waken.
"What do we do with this creature?" a man asked Atobai.
"Bring it to the village!" Atobai replied over a loud crack of lightening; "I must take this child before he catches a fever!"
"Is that the Avatar?" someone shouted.
Atobai did not want to answer. But he did so reluctantly; "I'm not sure," he said, then turning, he left.
TBC (maybe?)
A/N: Well? What'd yall think? Please review!