This story is inspired by MuffinLance's superlative Salvage. This story will have a similar premise, but I couldn't resist adding Sokka, Katara, and Gran-Gran, as well as some Water Tribe politics, into the mix. The name of the two ships, the Wani and the Akhlut are pulled directly from MuffinLance's work.
This story also involves quite a lot of Southern Water Tribe world building, and like the show, I tried to base it on Inuit culture. Hopefully I don't inadvertently offend anyone, but if you have concerns, please let me know.
For reference, this story begins about 6 months before the start of the series; Zuko is 15, Sokka is 14, and Katara is 13.
This is being cross-posted from AO3. I can be found there as SugarPill, and on tumblr as hersugarpill.
Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome. I hope you enjoy!
Zuko wills land to appear as he gazes out at the horizon. It's been a week since the Wani set course for the South Pole—the only place in the world he hasn't yet searched for the Avatar—and all they've seen so far is endless ocean and ice floes. Two years since he was burned and banished, two years of faulty starts and false leads and failure after failure. Zuko clenches his fists, his palms sizzling and his inner fire roaring like the furnace that drives the Wani through the slate-gray waters. The Avatar has to be here. He has to.
"Nephew." Zuko hears Uncle approaching before his hand lands of Zuko's shoulder. "There is a storm approaching. Perhaps it would be wise to alter our course to avoid it."
Zuko sees what Uncle means, the dark smear to the west of them. But it's far away, and the sky above them now is bright blue and cloudless. "No, we continue straight to the South Pole. We've already wasted enough time as it is. The Avatar—"
"The Avatar has been missing for a hundred years. Surely one more day won't make a difference."
"Of course it makes a difference!" Zuko roughly shrugs Uncle's hand off and rounds on him. "Every day we waste is another day I'm stuck on this rusty shit-bucket with you, and a crew of the very worst the Fire Nation has to offer!"
(He can practically feel it slipping through his fingers, his crown, his honor, his home, all of it—)
Lieutenant Jee looks up from his conversation with another crewman and glares at him. Zuko doesn't care. He already knows how much Jee and the rest hate him.
"Remember your breath control, Prince Zuko," Uncle says, taking a deep, steady inhale of his own. "A firebender must be in control of his emotions."
Zuko snarls in anger and launches a fireball from his fist. It flies away from the ship and lands in the ocean with a hiss.
Uncle sighs.
"I understand you are eager to find the Avatar, and that the last two years have been… difficult. But you've been running yourself ragged. Even the fiercest warriors need rest. Come, join me for a cup of tea. We can continue our quest tomorrow."
"It's not our quest, it's my quest, and no, you don't understand," Zuko fumes. "If you did, maybe you'd try helping me for once!"
"I am trying to help you, nephew. Now, please—"
"No!" Zuko's rage and frustration flash over into something with teeth, something looking to maim. "I'm in command of this ship, and I'm sick of you holding me back! Father is right, you really are just a lazy, useless old man!"
Zuko instantly wishes he could take the words back. Uncle's usually placid expression creases into one of hurt and disappointment. Zuko opens his mouth, a plea for forgiveness already on his tongue, but Uncle has turned his back.
"As you wish, Prince Zuko."
Zuko grits his teeth as he watches Uncle shuffle below deck and out of sight. He resists the urge to run after him, Father's harsh words ringing in his head: Only the weak apologize. Are you weak, Zuko?
I'm not weak. I'm not.
(But that's a lie. Zuko is weak. That's what got him into this mess in the first place, that's why Father had to punish him, why he deserved to have his face painted in flames—)
Zuko blinks away the bitter memory. He looks up to see the rest of the crew watching him in heavy silence.
"What are you staring at?" Zuko hollers. "Get back to work!"
The men snap to, hurrying about their business while giving Zuko a wide berth. All except Lieutenant Jee, who looks at him with hard, disapproving eyes. Zuko turns away, his anger flaring back to life inside him. He stalks towards the bow of the ship to shoot more fireballs.
Anything to replace the guilt he feels swimming in his gut.
The Wani rocks wildly, throwing Zuko into a bulkhead. Water is leaking like a sieve from above as the other crew members are tossed back and forth, thunder booming loudly enough to shake the entire ship.
Uncle was right in the end, of course. The storm found them only a few hours after their argument, too late for them to outmaneuver it. Now they're trapped, forced to ride it out and pray to Agni they don't sink.
Zuko growls and pulls himself along the passageway, bracing as the Wani is hit with another earth-shattering swell, the metal of the ship groaning like a dying animal. Zuko finally makes it to the door, throwing it open and heaving himself through.
Zuko is hit with a wall of freezing rain and wind as soon as he steps onto the main deck. Nightfall has caused the temperature to plummet, and now every surface is crusted in ice from waves crashing over the rails. Above, lightning flashes against the black sky, and thunder rips through the clouds. Zuko stumbles and nearly falls as the deck pitches and rolls under his feet.
"Lieutenant!" Zuko shouts at Jee over the howling wind. "Something's wrong with the engines!" He'd heard the metallic sputtering below deck, and felt the ship losing momentum even though the crew was shoveling coal into the boilers at double-time.
"The engines are iced over!" Jee yells back. "We're trying to thaw them out, but the rain is freezing faster than we can work!"
Without her engines, the Wani will be dead in the water, increasing their chances of hitting an iceberg or capsizing. Zuko can't let that happen, not after coming this far. Not when he's so close to finding the Avatar.
He turns to make his way back to the engines at the ship's stern, bracing a hand against the metal wall of the control tower. The Wani tilts dizzily as another massive wave hits, Zuko's boots sliding on the icy deck. The cold is starting to seep into his wet uniform, frost forming in the grooves of his armor. But Zuko clenches his teeth and keeps moving.
When he finally reaches the engines, Zuko finds Engineer Hideki and the other firebenders melting the ice off the machinery housings. But they barely finish one section before the next is frozen over. The engines whine as they struggle to operate, the exhaust stack belching smoke only in sporadic bursts.
"Prince Zuko?" Hideki asks in surprise. "What are you—"
"Can the ship run with only one engine?" Zuko demands.
"We'd lose some speed and maneuverability, and risk overtaxing the boiler system—"
Zuko grabs Hideki by the front of his uniform. "But can it be done?"
"Well… yes! I suppose so!"
"Then do it! Focus all your fire on only one engine, and keep it thawed!"
Hideki flicks his eyes over Zuko's shoulder. Jee has followed him to the stern.
"Prince Zuko, go back inside and let us handle this!" The lieutenant yells. "It's too dangerous out here!"
"No!" Zuko shouts back. "I won't hide while my men are out here risking their lives!"
Hideki glances at Jee again and Zuko feels a flash of resentment—two years he's been on this ship, and the men still don't trust him. Jee gives him a considering look. Zuko knows the lieutenant is weighing this moment against all the other times Zuko's ignored his advice, screamed him down in front of the crew, and generally made his job impossible. But to his surprise, Jee nods in agreement.
"You heard the prince!"
Hideki, Jee, and the other firebenders crowd around the port side engine and wreathe it in flames. It works better than what they were doing before, but it's still not enough. The freezing rain is coming down in sheets, and all the moisture in the air is making it hard to bend. There's just not enough firepower to keep the ice at bay.
Well, Zuko didn't come out here just to stand around and gawk. He's halfway up the ladder than runs along the side of the control tower before Jee starts shouting at him.
"Prince Zuko! Come down from there!"
Zuko ignores him. He wraps one arm around the ladder rungs, takes a deep breath, and aims a steady stream of fire down on the port engine. From this height he has a better angle to hit the top of the engine housing, much better than if he'd kept both feet planted on deck.
After a few minutes, Zuko is struggling to maintain such a continuous flame, the cold sapping his strength and the frostbitten air burning his lungs. But it's working. His added fire thaws the engine enough that it finally turns over and starts running again at full power.
The cheering of Jee and the others is interrupted by a colossal boom as lightning strikes near the ship's bow. Zuko leans around the side of the control tower to see Uncle standing alone on deck, two fingers pointed towards the sky. As he watches, Uncle performs a circular motion and points the other hand out to sea, sending a massive bolt of lightning flashing over the churning waves.
Zuko gapes. Did Uncle just… redirect lightning? He didn't think that was possible. The reason bending lightning is so dangerous—and so prized—is because there's little defense against it. Zuko had seen Father use it enough times to know.
(On dark nights, Zuko sometimes wonders if Father should have used lightning on him during their Agni Kai instead of fire. Would it have been crueler, or more merciful?)
The Wani is broadsided by another huge wave, and Zuko's grip on the ladder slips. He tries to hold on, but the metal is too icy, and his fingers clutch at nothing but air, and then he's falling—
Zuko hits the deck hard. There's a sickening snap in his left leg, the limb buckling underneath him at an angle that is nauseatingly wrong, and the scream he lets out is lost to the gale.
"Prince Zuko!" Jee shouts. He and the other crew members scramble to reach him, but not before the next swell hits.
The ship tilts hard to starboard, sending Zuko sliding across the deck. He tries to stop his momentum, but it's too slick, and his leg won't cooperate at all, and then he's tumbling over the rail, and—
And then he's sinking.
The ocean is so cold it steals Zuko's breath, makes his body burn in a way fire never has. He stretches a hand towards the rapidly-retreating surface, but it's getting farther and farther away—
Oh, Agni, his armor.
Zuko fights with the ties and latches, his fingers suddenly too thick and clumsy in the numbing water. He starts with the heaviest pieces, his shoulder guards and breast plate, frantically tearing at them as his lungs start to burn and his vision begins to darken. He manages to get them both off, casting them into the watery darkness, and then struggles as hard as he can towards the surface.
He bursts into the air with a deep gasp, coughing and sputtering as he strains to keep his head above water. The Wani has drifted away from him on the surging ocean, but he can still reach it, he's a strong swimmer—
Zuko tries kicking and cries out when his leg sears in pain. He does it again anyway, and again, biting the inside of his cheek as he lurches agonizingly forward. He can hear the emergency bell ringing abroad the ship, the call of man overboard!, and over all of it, Uncle's frantic shouting. He prays the crew keeps Uncle from jumping in after him, he's fine, he can make it—
A wave crashes over his head, the world turning end over end in a freezing blur. When Zuko resurfaces, the Wani is even farther away, and he can hear nothing but the wind and the roaring ocean. He unbuckles his skirt guard and both arm braces, but his sprits-damned leg is like a dead weight getting heavier by the second. He swims until his muscles are screaming, until his lungs are heaving, until his leg is nothing but a burning line of pain—
Another swell pulls him under, and this time when he finally breaks the surface, the Wani is nowhere to be seen. Just miles and miles of dark water and howling rain.
Zuko is alone.
Hakoda is poring over charts for their next mission when there's a knock on his cabin door. Amaruq, one his younger crewmen, bursts in without waiting for an answer. Hakoda sighs. At least the kid knocked this time.
"Chief! Something on deck you're gonna want to see."
Hakoda follows Amaruq onto the main deck. The storm that had battered the Akhlut over the last few hours has passed, the ragged sky smoothing into a calm evening. Several of Hakoda's men are gathered around something near the port side rail. As Hakoda approaches, the men part, and he sees what all the fuss is about.
It's a man, laying facedown on the deck. Or more like a boy, judging by his size.
"We found him on an iceberg," Kalik, his boatswain, says. "He must have fallen overboard."
Another crewman, Tulok, frowns. "Yeah, but from where? We haven't seen another ship in days. And he's not wearing blue, or green."
Or red goes unspoken. The boy's tunic and trousers are dark gray, but it's a bit hard to tell soaking wet and covered in salt. The boy himself is as pale as death, his odd tail of hair frozen solid.
"Is he alive?" Hakoda asks.
Kalik opens his mouth to answer, but the boy chooses that moment to vomit seawater all over Hakoda's boots.
"Well, that answers that," Amaruq jokes. Several of the men chuckle, until Hakoda shoots them a look. He knows from experience that the men will tease him about this for weeks, but right now is not the time for humor.
Kalik kneels down to thump the boy between the shoulder blades. He retches a few more times, followed by violent coughing and shivering. When he finally sits up, several of the crewmen take a step back.
"Mother of spirits," Tulok murmurs.
The boy has a very large burn scar on the left side of his face, one of the worst Hakoda has ever seen on someone still living. Hakoda is still staring at it when the boy finally cracks his eyes open.
His golden yellow eyes.
Several of the men have their weapons drawn before Hakoda can even give the order. The singing of metal against metal snaps the boy to attention and he growls, shoving Kalik away and getting into a fighting stance.
Or at least he tries to. His left leg gives out immediately, and the boy slips and falls back to the deck with a shout of pain. Hakoda can tell from here that the limb is badly broken.
"Get away from me!" The boy rasps, trying and failing repeatedly to stand. He looks like an angry otter penguin flailing on a sheet of ice, but the fierceness in his eyes—and the gravity of the situation—keeps anyone from laughing.
Kalik edges to the side until he's almost behind the boy, out of his line of sight. He rests his hand on the blade at his hip and looks Hakoda in the eye.
It would be more merciful to give the boy a quick death, rather than throw him back in the ocean. But Hakoda doesn't feel right about executing someone so young. Not without asking him some questions first. This boy can't be much older than his own son, after all.
So instead, Hakoda stays Kalik with a raise of his hand, and slowly crouches down in front of the boy.
"Are you Fire Nation?" he asks evenly.
The boy stops trying to stand and fixes Hakoda with his blazing yellow eyes, panting heavily. "Yes."
"Are you a firebender?"
"Of course I am!" The boy snarls. He punches his fist forward, and Hakoda jerks out of the way. But no flame appears. Not even a puff of smoke. Hakoda's not sure who looks more surprised, him or the boy.
"Chief!" Kalik darts forward and clamps a hand on the back of the boy's neck, holding him in place. The boy bares his teeth and starts struggling again, clawing at Kalik's arm for all he's worth. The other men shift warily, weapons at the ready, but Hakoda raises his hand again. They won't attack without his command.
"Let me go!" The boy croaks. "Get off of me!"
"And why should we do that?" Hakoda asks, tilting his head. "You're on an enemy ship. We rescued you, and then you tried to attack me."
The wrath in the boy's eyes slides into fear. He freezes and his gaze darts around the deck, as if he's just now noticing the other men; how sharp their blades are, how blue their clothing.
Then the boy's face hardens and he scowls at Hakoda. He does his best to stand as tall as possible with a broken leg and Kalik's firm hand on his neck. When he speaks, it's in a ringing, aristocratic voice intended for far higher places than a Water Tribe ship.
"Because I am Zuko, son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai, crown prince and heir to the Fire Nation throne, and I demand you release me!"
A thick silence blankets the deck. The men stare in shock. Hakoda just blinks at this boy, this apparent prince, angrier than a tiger seal and with none of the survival instincts to match.
The boy manages to hold his dignified pose for a few more moments. Then violent shivers start to wrack his body again, until his eyes roll back and he slumps in Kalik's grasp, passed out cold.
Only Amaruq has the gall to say what they're all thinking out loud.
"Is he serious?"
"Yeah," Hakoda says faintly. "I think he is."