Author's note: Thank you for the reviews and follows! I hope to update at least once a week with at least one chapter from now on.

This is what you wanted, Zuko had to keep reminding himself with every torturous sway of the Water Empire ship that threatened to unload the contents of his stomach all over the floor. And this was what he wanted, what he and his father had devised. He was on his way to the Water Empire, and his identity was still secret. But he hadn't exactly taken the rickety, wooden Water Empire ships into account. Unlike the metal Fire Nation ships, these were entirely made of wood and powered by wind, which made them fast and efficient, but awfully uncomfortable to ride in, especially when you were being held captive in the brig.

All around him Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom refugees were curled up next to one another, either barely sleeping or, like him, barely keeping down their dinner of bread and ale. He was leaning against the starboard side of the ship, his head bumping against the wooden planks, elbows resting on his knees. He tried to convince himself that if he just closed his eyes and focused on the sound of the water lapping against the side of the upper deck, he was back home at the palace, sitting by the turtleduck pond. When he touched the floorboards he could almost feel the supple green grass that tickled his shins when he sat and threw bread to the turtleducks; he could hear them quack as they caught the bread in midair and swam in happy circles. His mother had first introduced him and Azula to the little pond in the courtyard when they were children. Azula had thrown a rock at the turtleducks and ever since then they'd disliked her. But they were happy to waddle over to Zuko and let him pick them up, to pet their heads and scratch the space beneath their shells where their feet couldn't reach.

The man beside Zuko suddenly began gagging and Zuko opened his eyes just in time to see the vomit splatter all over his shirt. He cupped a hand over his mouth and nose partly to avoid the smell and also to prevent himself from vomiting as well.

"Sorry," the man grumbled up at Zuko before rolling over to his other side and curling into a fetal position, falling to sleep instantly, apparently able to sleep better now. Zuko turned his head to the side, away from the vomit, and took a few deep, cleansing breaths, careful not to let any fire or smoke escape from his mouth or nose.

He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the heavy wooden door at the end of the brig. He knocked twice and loudly asked if he could get some water to clean off his shirt. The door opened just wide enough for a Water Empire guard to stick his head through and frown at the stench of Zuko's shirt.

"What did you do to yourself?" the man muttered and pinched his nose.

"I didn't do—oh, never mind. Can I clean this off? Now, please?" he asked, irritated. He knew he was pushing it, since the guard wouldn't hesitate to punish insubordinates, but the smell was really getting to him, and he was getting closer and closer to losing his own dinner.

The guard nodded and let him through the door, but roughly grabbed onto the back of his shirt. "Don't try anything reckless, or else," he warned, and Zuko nodded, biting his tongue. Even if he did try to escape, he knew he wouldn't get off the ship. And even if he did, he was completely surrounded by ocean. Besides, it wasn't time to make his move. Not yet.

The guard accompanied him to the upper deck where a water barrel sat next to a set of stairs leading to the wheel, where Zuko saw a man in a traditional Water Empire uniform sailing the boat. Zuko took off his shirt and dipped it in the water, trying to rub off the chunks of half-digested bread. He had to clench his lips shut and push back against the bile that rose in his throat. While he washed he looked around, taking count of the number of crew members on board. If they were all just warriors, and the refugees could be motivated to act, he was sure that they could overthrow them. However, most of the warriors were probably waterbenders as well, and in that case they were at a definite disadvantage since it was nearly nighttime and they were surrounded by water. Zuko looked up.

"Looks like a full moon," he commented, not looking back at his guard.

"Sure does," the guard replied, and Zuko could hear the confidence in his voice. His stomach sank. Bloodbenders would be at their most powerful tonight.

It was a disgusting ability, Zuko thought with a grimace, and threw his shirt back into the water, scrubbing furiously. It entirely took away a person's control over their own body. It was shameful. It was vile. It was dishonorable. And it was terrifying.

When he had first heard of the Water Empire's new ability from his father when he was young, it had scared him straight to the core. Azula had argued that it was impossible.

"Waterbenders bend water, Daddy. Not blood."

Only after he explained how the body was made of a majority of water did they understand the absolute power of the method of bending, and how dangerous waterbenders were for being able to harbor such an ability.

The night before she left for battle, Azula confessed to Zuko that this was her one fear of heading into the fray of the war. She was only 16, but by then she was a firebending prodigy and one of the most skilled warriors in the Nation. Zuko was 14, and still learning the basics of his skill.

"I'm not scared of them," she had said confidently. "I'm a far better firebender than any of those water peasants." And he believed her, because she was. She had only been a toddler when she first showed signs of bending ability. She had learned from the best firebending masters and had swiftly surpassed them. She was virtually unbeatable. "But those bloodbenders…" she started, and the fear was evident in her voice, which had surprised Zuko, because she rarely showed any weakness. She was everything her father wanted in an heir, whereas he was only a cheap knock-off, a backup in case anything should happen to his prodigy. She was sure in everything she did, in every move she made, in every step she took. But then, in that moment, sitting next to the turtleduck pond in the courtyard the twilight before she left for war, a single tear fell down her cheek. "How could someone ever do that to another person? It's…it's not human."

In that moment of vulnerability, Zuko prayed to the gods that Azula wouldn't have to go to war and face the very people she so feared. But she did. And eight months later, when they learned of her defeat, Zuko thought back to that moment by the turtleduck pond and prayed once more to the gods that she hadn't fallen at the hand of a bloodbender. He hoped that, with her last breath, she had fought with the passion of the Fire Nation Princess—not that she had cried with the fear of a child whose blood had been stolen from her.

They had never been particularly close—he could call her his sister, and if she needed his help he was always there for her—but he hadn't expected to feel such a sense of overwhelming loss, like a rock was sitting in his stomach and constantly pulling him down to the ground. His father had locked himself away in his room for a week, during which time all major decisions had been left to his advisors, not to Zuko. No one trusted him to rule a nation feeling the way he did, and he was glad for it. If, in those days while he grieved, he'd had a choice in the matter, he would have ended the war right then and there and surrendered to the Water Empire. But then, after the grief and sorrow faded to a dull roar in the back of his mind, and the rock in his stomach shrank to a small—but painful—pebble, he realized that the war couldn't end until his people, and all people, were free. He had to take action. The Water Empire had to be brought to justice. And he hungered for the opportunity to serve it to them.

Since then he had trained in secret with his father and masters, and his firebending was at its peak, as were his sword skills and hand-to-hand combat. His father had been reluctant to agree to Zuko's plan. After all, he was next in line for the throne. If anything were to happen to Zuko and his father, the Fire Nation would be left without a legitimate ruler. However, a year after Azula's death their mother became pregnant with her third child, and a son was born. Zuko had trained relentlessly when he realized there would be another heir to the throne, and soon had convinced his father that he could accomplish this task. To infiltrate the Water Empire and take it down from the inside. Everyone knew that Emperor Hakoda was a corrupt ruler. The world would be better off without him. And his daughter, who was poised to take the throne in the event of her father's death, would be easy enough to dispatch. Zuko had heard of her exceptional waterbending abilities, but she was no match for him: He had vengeance on his side. Then there was the son, the second-born, but he wasn't even a bender. No non-bender, no matter how good of a warrior, was a match for a trained firebender like himself. He would end their line, no matter what. Even if it resulted in his death. The world would thank him for his sacrifice. It was his destiny.