Zuko remembered with a horrible clarity the day that he saw the first sign that the avatar had returned. As the day passed, and on the days immediately following his first humiliating defeat, he had forced his mind to commit every detail to memory. Not only did he not want to repeat his mistakes—and wasn't that a dream from which Zuko would never awaken from—he had truly thought that those moments were historic. He had believed in his heart that his story would be taught in history classes one day, so he had treated himself as the first student, learning every battle and memorizing each line.
That light came from an incredibly powerful source! It has to be him!
Zuko could, for months after, still picture the vivid white-blue color of that light in his mind's eyes. In his more introspective moments, that white-blue reminded him only of Azula. It reminded him of how stupid and angry she made him feel, but it also reminded him of the only home he'd known. He focused on that bright light and redoubled his efforts to find the avatar and go home.
I need to capture the avatar!
Later, when his morals combatted his motives in the darkest, unexplored corners of his mind, his conscience bled with the knowledge that the avatar was a child. Zuko knew better than most the sort of terrible things that could happen to children, so perhaps he shouldn't—But then his desire to return home fought back, and it didn't play fair.
Helmsman, set a course for the light!
Zuko couldn't see any light now. All around him was darkness and it clawed at him, choking him with unseen hands wrapped at his throat. There was pain driving into every inch of his flesh, needles and daggers dug into his body that carried a cold deep into his bones. The cold didn't numb the agony of it all, and Zuko wondered idly if he was in hell. He wondered idly if he was screaming.
General Iroh of the Fire Nation, the retired Dragon of the West, had been playing a game on the deck while Zuko had practiced his bending forms. These days, training, sleeping, and scowling seemed to be all his nephew had done since his banishment but Iroh stayed the course. Patience was a bitter herb, but it could be brewed to make the sweetest tea.
Iroh was mostly content to wait until his nephew burned all of his rage out. Banishment was not pleasant, but it wasn't as if they were totally cut off. Iroh still had connections and friends in the Fire Nation. They wouldn't run out of money or favors any time soon, so he treated Zuko's time away from home as a sort of vacation, finally free from the poison of the Ozai's court. The young prince didn't see his time away from his homeland as the gift it could be, but the wound was still fresh years after the physical injury had scarred over. The boy needed time to mourn what had been taken from him, distance to absorb how his mission had been a fool's errand, and wisdom to see that many paths were still open in front of him. To ensure that Zuko received the benefit of these things, Iroh stayed at his nephew's side and resigned himself to waiting.
That had been the plan until a bright blue-white beam of energy shot into the sky towards the southeast. So surprised to see it—to see a real, verifiable signal that there was still one loose thread in this world for Zuko to chase after—Iroh nearly dropped the air tile in his hand. Sensing his game was going to come to a close, he placed it down gently on the table on top of the others of its kind and waited for Zuko to begin shouting orders to the men. To repay his patience, the universe delivered something entirely unwelcome: a surprise.
Before Iroh's eyes, the beam of light splintered as it pierced the cloud cover. It shattered into three smaller arcs of light that branched off and away nearly faster than Iroh's gaze could follow. Two of them disappeared over the horizon in different directions, and Iroh was horrified to see that he had plenty more time to study the third as it flew towards their ship. He was unable to move, unable to react, as that bolt of light slamming directly into Zuko's chest and the teen made a soft, strangled noise as it struck him. He collapsed bonelessly to the deck of the ship, body curling protectively inward as tremors wracked his frame. Iroh was on his feet then, rushing to his nephew's side with such haste that he knocked the table before him to the side. The tiles of his game lay in a forgotten pile as his shaking hands grabbed hold of the boy's shoulder, his face, his chest to search desperately for an injury that he couldn't see.
No. There was too much panic, too much noise raging in Iroh's mind as he tried to assess Zuko's condition. Others joined him, other hands pushing and pulling at his nephew's form, lifting the boy onto a stretcher and bearing him into the belly of the ship. The healer on board was summoned. The ship continued sailing without direction as Iroh prayed to the spirits that he wouldn't lose a second son, not like this.
Zuko was burning up. Firebenders always were a bit warmer than nonbenders, but his temperature was dangerously high. If the fever didn't break, if they couldn't lower it with the help of the scant medical supplies that they had on board…
Iroh forbid those thoughts from coming to a conclusion. It didn't matter if the ship wasn't fully prepared for this sort of situation. They'd fix it—now—and make sure that they weren't so short-sighted in the future. Zuko would be fine. They simply had to make port and acquire the medicine that the prince so desperately needed.
The plan fell apart before the helmsman was even brought before Iroh. They were so far to the south. It would take over a week of sailing to reach the any of the Earth Kingom's major ports, never mind how long it would take to find one that was both willing and able to supply what they needed. The Fire Nation was not an option that could be considered, for a far more pressing reason than the distance alone: Ozai had banished his son once already. Iroh didn't dare consider what his mad brother would do to the boy if he discovered that Zuko—even a terribly sick, possibly comatose Zuko—had made landfall without his express permission. No, there was only one option, as terrible as it was: the Southern Water Tribe. Iroh had vague recollections of the tribe. While it had once been a decent sized city, existing as an off-shoot of their sister tribe in the north, the South Pole had been ravaged by Fire Nation raids. With their people either killed outright or abducted as the Fire Nation removed the waterbending threat from the population, the Southern Water Tribe would certainly have no motive to extend their aid now. Still, it was the only chance that Zuko might have if this fever did not break without additional help.
The helmsman finally approached, perhaps sensing that the danger of getting to close to Iroh when his mind was so dangerously close to unravelling. He did a very good job at masking his confusion when Iroh ordered the ship to sail in the direction of the South Pole, but Iroh knew there would be whispers among the crew. That didn't matter. Two thirds of the crew had come aboard for the honor of sailing with the Great General Iroh, with the remaining third angry or curious enough to follow Zuko into banishment. This crew wasn't nearly as cohesive as Iroh might like, but there would be no mutiny under his watch. They'd arrive safely at the Southern Water Tribe. What would happen after that was out of his hands.
Katara found herself breathing a sigh of relief as she finally returned to her old room, leaving Aang under Sokka's watchful eye. She loved Aang, but she had forgotten how exhaustingly energetic he'd been when this journey had first started. Then again, she thought more charitably, this was the start of his journey…
She took a moment to center herself, focusing on the thrum of her own pulse and the steadiness of her own heart to relax her turbulent thoughts before she moved on. Although it was strange to imagine, she actually had chores to do, set by another person. Kanna coming out to interrupt the 'fun' of Aang questioning her on the tribe and her waterbending had taken Katara somewhat off guard since it was usually her job to remind others that there was work that needed to be done. She hadn't returned to reminisce on what had passed for the good times, though; she wasn't properly dressed for real work, still wearing a relatively thin tunic that was really only meant for sleepwear. She hadn't been bothered by it in the short time she was outside, but if Aang was going to gather up the courage to invite her otter-penguin sledding soon, she needed to be prepared to say yes. Rummaging through her clothes, Katara quickly pulled a heavier parka over her shirt, smoothing the fabric over her body with a careful, nostalgic eye. It had been a long time since she'd worn her tribe's fashions. If she were honest, she had gotten used to the light silks and wraps of Fire Nation clothes, but the warmth of furs would always make her think of home.
She glanced in a mirror almost mindlessly, confirming that her hair was more or less decent, but she froze at her reflection. One hand cautiously rose to touch her forehead to confirm that it wasn't makeup or madness creating an illusion, and Katara felt a warmth blooming in her chest as she found herself staring at the golden crescent shimmering against her skin. She recognized it immediately, having seen the mark each time she'd look into her master's face.
For a brief, strangely painful moment, Katara debated whether or not she should hide the mark. If she was looking to fit in, to not paint herself as different or unusual in the eyes of the world, it wouldn't make sense for her to have what was clearly not a normal paint or tattoo visible for the world to see. Still, Sokka and Aang had no doubt seen it already… And Kanna too, as Katara thought back to how her grandmother's eyes wouldn't quite meet hers. What really tipped the scales was a recent memory: Uisce's final goodbye caught up to her and tears sprung unbidden to her eyes: Wear it proudly, so that all will know who you are.
Decision made, Katara left the warmth of the tent and embraced the cold of the outside world, taking a deep breath of the crisp air. She did have chores to do, but perhaps she'd track Aang down and convince him to join her. The plans they'd made in the past had to stand, had to be carried out as best they could until the three of them were reunited. Katara's end of the bargain—reignite the flare in the Fire Navy ship, giving Zuko reasonable cause to come to the village—hadn't yet been upheld. Luckily, she had learned many of Aang's ticks long ago. The boy couldn't resist a mystery, and it wasn't as if she didn't have a decent bait to throw in his direction.
Smiling to herself, Katara began walking towards where she'd last seen Aang. Sokka had insisted on keeping his 'weapons' locked away, so it was probable that Aang was either in the process of retrieving his glider or already showing it off to the village's children. That meant she needed to walk towards the village's seaside entrance, where the armory stood almost completely empty. She only made it four steps before the sky began to darken and black soot began to rain down. Katara hesitated, mind ripped back to another day, a beach dusted with ash and soot still gently swirling around her on the light breeze, but the sounds of her tribesmen moving and shouting around her brought her back to today.
It seemed that Zuko would be joining her earlier than planned.
She hid a smile and continued walking. Perhaps she could try to convince Sokka to not blindly attack firebenders this time. After all, the one leading them was someone that she was quite fond of.
When the FNS Salamander finally appeared on the horizon, docking some distance away—Katara had kindly suggested to Zuko maybe-you-don't-break-my-village-this-time—before two figures departed. One was dressed in armor as expected, but the other—who was significantly rounder than the first—was wearing robes that didn't seem to be sufficiently warm for the weather. Still, the man made up for it by walking with surprising haste towards the village.
General Iroh was nearly out of breath by the time he and Lieutenant Jee approached the village entrance. Entrance was a strong word to describe the open space in the ring of ice that surrounded the small village, serving as walls, but it wasn't left entirely unguarded. In lieu of a gate, the firebenders could see a young man standing at the entrance, holding a spear in his hand as he, to Iroh's surprise, argued with the young woman beside him. Their voices carried over the ice and Iroh felt a dangerous rush of hope at the young woman's words.
"There's only two of them!" she was saying, voice exasperated. "If they meant to attack, they would have attacked us by now!"
"They're lulling you into a false sense of security, Katara! Now get back. This is a man's job," the young man retorted, tightening his hold on his spear. It was hard to tell with the warrior paint the boy was wearing, but Iroh felt each of his years as he drew close enough to see that the boy was even younger than Zuko. The two children continued bickering—the boy insisting she go and the girl refusing—right up until Iroh and Jee were mere yards from them. The boy opened his mouth, moving to heft his spear towards them, but the girl deftly stepped forward, pushing his spear down and out of the way.
"Don't start a fight," she hissed out of the corner of her mouth to the boy before she looked to Iroh and Jee appraisingly, her shoulders squared. There was a confused hesitation that drew her brow together for a moment, but she smoothed her face into a polite mask with an admirable haste. "It's been many years since we've seen a Fire Navy vessel in these waters. Can we help you?"
"I'd like an audience with the leader of your village," Iroh responded, his voice betraying his urgency despite his best efforts. Rather than respond immediately, the girl swiftly clapped a hand over the boy's mouth before a word escaped him. Siblings, Iroh decided after a moment of thought.
"No one person has full control over our village at the moment. Most affairs are handled by myself, my brother, and our grandmother. We can get her if you'd like to speak to all three of us," she offered. Then, to Iroh's complete surprise, she actually smiled at them. It didn't make sense. The bitterness on the brother's face was clearly reminiscent of the raids that had been carried out on this area. She herself had made a passing reference on the navy's presence in these waters. With all that history, why was she making such an effort to remain calm and polite? Iroh didn't have a single idea, but it added to the painful hope building in his chest.
"That is agreeable," Iroh finally said, bowing his head courteously. "I am General Iroh, and this is Lieutenant Jee. Who, may I ask, are we speaking to?"
"My name is Katara. This is my brother Sokka, and our grandmother is Kanna. Sokka, can you go find Gran-Gran?" The civility in her tone shifted dangerously and Iroh exchanged a glance with Jee, both firebenders understanding at once that Sokka had not been asked to do anything; he had been ordered. The boy seemed to understand that as well and a brief battle waged in his eyes on whether or not it was better to leave his sister alone with two villainous Fire Nation scum to get reinforcements or fight with her, weakening them to attack. The boy made a decision quickly, scowling as he tightly squeezed Katara's hand before nearly sprinting into the village. Watching him go, Katara smiled. "You'll have to forgive my brother. We lost our mother when we were young."
"Ah." Iroh heard the crunch of snow under Jee's boots as the man shifted his weight uneasily. This didn't feel right, but it surely couldn't be a trap? This small village had no way of rebuking them, of fending off an attack, so why did Iroh feel vulnerable? "My condolences."
"It wasn't you that killed her," Katara commented in her off-hand, polite tone. Her eyes shifted over to the Salamander. "You're not typical Fire Navy, are you? That ship is one of the older models, decades old at least. And you…" Her eyes were suddenly back on Iroh, piercing and intelligent. There was a shift in her gaze—a flicker of mirth—then it was gone. "You're not exactly active service. What really brings you to our tribe?"
"Sir." Jee's voice was quiet but urgent as he looked to Iroh. He'd served under Iroh earlier in his military career and had nearly three years of somewhat-constant exposure to the man and his subtly shifting moods. The Dragon of the West was nearly always composed, half-smiling, or speaking a proverb with a serious mien. He'd known that Iroh was left off-kilter by whatever had happened to Prince Zuko, but now the man seemed very nearly scrambling for purchase in front of this girl. And, honestly, Jee couldn't blame him. She was not at all as he expected from a raid-plagued Water Tribe girl, but that didn't mean that they could afford to lower their guard.
"My nephew," Iroh confessed, entirely ignoring Jee's vague plea for sanity. "We were sailing some ways to the west when my nephew fell ill."
Iroh wasn't watching the girl very closely in those moments, his own attention guiding his eyes back towards the Salamander, where the source of his concern lay groaning and shaking in a cot. It was Jee who watched Katara's face shift without any reasonable cause. Something very close to panic entered her eyes and she seemed to restrain herself from taking a step forward with massive effort.
"Your nephew?" she echoed as soon as she'd regained better control of herself. She was hesitating, perhaps weighing her options or debating what to say, but she carried on without further prompting. Her expressive eyes settled on Iroh, softening with an understanding Jee couldn't explain. "It was brave of you to come here. Thank you for your honesty, General Iroh."
Sokka returned to the gateway, an old woman trailing behind him. Jee regarded her with some interest; the inexplicable courage Katara had shown must have come from somewhere, after all, and the girl had already admitted to losing a mother. Given the smile Katara gave as the two drew near, it was clear that this woman was held in her esteem.
"General Iroh, Kanna. Gran-Gran, a member of their party has fallen ill and the general is requesting our aid," she explained succinctly. Kanna looked as surprised as Jee had felt since Katara smiled towards them, but Katara plowed ahead. "I'd like to see him. I believe I can help."
"You'd give aid to these men?" Kanna asked quietly. "When we have a monument to what the Fire Nation has done to our people? The best help our people could have granted was taken when they took all of our benders away."
Based on Katara's sad smile, there was something especially significant about what Kanna had said. Jee didn't quite follow and, when he glanced towards Iroh to see if the older man better understood, he frowned and began tracing Iroh's line of sight to determine what had put such a startled look on the old man's face. He glanced back and forth between Iroh and Katara twice to make sure he wasn't mistaken, but it seemed that Iroh was focused on the marking on the girl's forehead. Jee hadn't thought of it for more than a moment; Sokka had been decorated with war paint, so it had been easy to assume that Katara had her own tribal customs that she followed. As he looked at it closer, something about it seemed oddly familiar though he couldn't quite place it.
"I know," Katara murmured to her grandmother. Kanna studied the girl in front of her for a long moment before sighing and turning to face Iroh.
"General Iroh…" She said his name slowly, but there wasn't the recognition in her eyes that Iroh had begun to abhor. It was merely a title, and one that likely meant little to her. "You will stay in the village while my granddaughter treats your man. When she is returned safely, you shall be free to go."
It was non-negotiable. Jee could see that in Kanna's eyes. He could understand, at least from a hypothetical standpoint, that she'd seen many of her tribesmen be led onto Fire Navy ships and never seen again. Despite his understanding, it was completely foolish. There was no—
"Very well," Iroh said without any further discussion. Some of the weight fell from his shoulders and Jee privately cursed the man's heart. Jee had nothing against Zuko, of course, but Iroh never thought clearly when the boy's path intersected his.
"What?! This is outrageous!" Sokka yelled out suddenly, holding firm even when Katara and Kanna both leveled their gaze on him. Jee had a strange moment of disassociation as he realized that Sokka was the only one in this group that seemed to have any sense.
"Sokka," Katara began sharply, her fists balling up. "You—"
"Will go with her," Kanna interrupted at once, immediately taking the wind from Katara's sails and leaving both of the teenagers staring at her, wide-eyed and speechless. "Sokka. Keep your sister out of trouble."
"But Gran-Gran, I—" Sokka launched into a new round of lamentations and Jee resisted the urge to groan. He'd had more than enough teenaged angst and drama on board his ship with just one teenager. Now he'd be escorting two more aboard for who knows how long. He suddenly felt the bizarre urge to reassure Kanna not to worry. Jee wanted absolutely nothing to do with her grandchildren and would happily never return to this strange village as soon as Katara's work was finished.
Published 1:42, 9.4.20