Winter has always been my least favorite season. The one thing I did enjoy about it was being able to curl up next to comfortable fires with warm tea. My time on a very cold, steel ship had not been my first choice of where I would want to spend it. However, the fire pits in the galley and on the deck when the crew had music night were comfortable pockets of heat amid the chill. The ship had been closing closer and closer to the Northern Water Tribe the longer we sailed northward, as, for the time, it was our only direction. There luckily was a Fire Navy base not too far off from the North Pole, and the ship was in drastic need of repairs. The damage done by June's shirshu had been haphazardly completed by engineers before we set off. Here the deck was repaired properly. As such, it meant that the regularly scheduled activities, like music night, where no one was confined to the cramped space of the galley but rather out in the open. Yet I couldn't bring myself to join the crew one night simply from how cold it had become.

Rather than lock myself in my quarters, I made a seat in the galley by the door so I could still hear the music. Jee was plucking out melodies on his lute. Several drums, which apparently had been bought during my absence, were being gently pounded by other crew members. At one pound, I heard Iroh crooning a classic love song. The old general had an ear for music, and would often sing some of the many ballads he had performed. A favorite of his was "Leaves From a Vine", or as it was known in the Fire Nation, "Little Soldier Boy". The song was simple, but the lyrics held a heavy poignance. Having learned of Iroh's war time actions, and how he had lost his son, I understood why he was particularly attached. Iroh's voice had a soft wavering quality whenever he sang, a testament to his age. But even in its softness, it was strong. The truth was, I could never hear "Little Soldier Boy" sung by anyone else but Iroh.

But as quick as the music started, it suddenly stopped. My brow furrowed. It wasn't like Zuko to abruptly stop something that was meant for the crew. Even when he did receive news of an Avatar sighting in the past, he never halted anything. I got up from my seat and crept towards the stairs, just to listen in closer.

"Good to see you've gathered all in one place…"

I stifled my gasp. That was Admiral Zhao. I caught the railing and began breathing slowly. I had to hide. Slipping past him and hiding in my quarters while he was on the deck was not an option. I was not going to let him take me away from Zuko and his crew. Not like this. I stepped backwards, away from the stairs, but I bumped into the metal barrel housing the coals that made the fire I had been sitting by. There was a loud, betraying clang as my staff rattled against it like a drum. But the other drum that was beating was my heart, about ready to burst from the chest.

My hands gripped anything behind me. Unfortunately, what they gripped was red hot iron. I had gripped the edges of the fire barrel in my panic. I didn't even think to cover my mouth as I let out a cry of pain. I pulled my hands back from the metal. Thankfully, it hadn't been hot enough to leave a lasting burn. I rushed to a nearby metal pan that the cook used to wash dishes and plunged my hands into the soapy water.

Zhao appeared over my shoulder, which I saw from my reflection in the water. His smile was his trademark closed smirk that reached his eyes brightly. "Gitan…it's good to see you again," his voice was a predatory purr, "I see you've come back to this motley crew after being on the run. But that's no matter. You can't run away from me anymore."

I steadied my breath as best as I could. "Just what do you want, Zhao? I don't have any information about my brother."

Zhao laughed. "That story may work with the prince, but it won't work on me."

I ran away from the dishwater and towards the exit. Zhao ran to cut off my path, but I reacted by tossing what was left of my tea into his face. The water wouldn't burn, but it would be enough of a distraction for me to rush past him. I scrambled up the stairs and onto the deck. The crew was standing by, Fire Nation soldiers flanking either side of each member. My eyes drifted from Jee to the cook to the helmsman, silently pleading for help. Yet they averted their gaze from me.

From behind, Zhao grabbed my arms and forced them behind my back. I yelled and bucked in a struggle, but his grip was unyielding.

"Now, Gitan, really. You'll be treated with utmost care aboard my ship, as an esteemed guest."

"If you think I'm going anywhere with you…"

My defiant growl was cut off my Zhao using one hand to cover my mouth. His other hand continued to hold my wrists behind me. He leered over towards me. "I want to make this clear. If you stay behind, then your brother will suffer greatly. But if you come with me, then his life will be spared…"

Deep down, I knew he was bluffing. Yet despite this knowledge, I glared at him long and hard. To him, I was only bait to let Aang come to him. Zuko had tried this ploy before, but it had failed. Yet as I stared into Zhao's eyes, I noticed something. There was a glimmer of confidence. He had a plan that wasn't being shared yet, and he was going to see it through. For now, it was going the way he wanted.

"Come, now. I'm not so cruel that I would leave with you without allowing you to say goodbye to your prince."

With his hands still on me, Zhao began to confidently stride towards Iroh, who was the only crew member not being flanked by soldiers. The two men exchanged a look before Iroh led us into the structure. The general stopped at Zuko's door and opened it, slipping inside. Zhao released me, but kept one grip on my wrists, tying them behind my back with rope before putting a hand on my arm.

I didn't see Zuko, but I could hear his voice from behind the door. "For the last time, I'm not playing the tsungi horn!"

"No. It's more about our plans," Iroh said hesitantly.

Zhao entered the quarters, keeping me behind him and Iroh. "I'm taking your crew." He said it dully, almost too casually.

Zuko, who had been lounging on his cot, shot up. 'What?!"

"I've recruited them for a little expedition to the North Pole."

Zuko turned to Iroh, anger and betrayal in his eyes, "Is this true, Uncle?"

The general looked down sadly. "I;m afraid so," he answered, "he's taking everyone. Even the cook!"

Zhao slowly pulled me forward. "And that's not all I'm taking. I'm taking her, too. She was hiding in the galley."

Zuko's eyes drifted to me. When he saw the way I was bound and being held by the admiral, an anger I didn't recognize flared in them. I had seen him upset and angry for things going wrong, or if it was self directed. This was a mix of disbelief and protectiveness, burning in his amber eyes.

"Let her go, Zhao!" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "She's…"

"The most important part of my expedition," Zhao interrupted. "She may not have any intel at the moment, but when the Avatar hears that his precious sister is in trouble, he'll come right to us." He gave a cruel smile, pulling her closer so that I was pressed against his side. "Don't tell me you've gotten attached to her. She's only leverage. You know it just as much as I. Try to rescue her now, and she'll suffer the consequences."

My heart pounded in my chest as tension filled the cabin. At this point, I was truly trapped. If I fought back, the crew would suffer alongside Zuko and Iroh. If he fought back, I would be hurt. All I could do was look directly into Zuko's eyes, trying to convey something that I lacked the courage to say out loud. He met my eyes, the protectiveness and fear for my safety glistening. They cooled into a fierce resolve, and while he didn't say anything, he looked away, the clenching of his fist telling me everything I needed to know.

Zhao grinned. "Good. Now that we've come to an understanding, I must be off before sunrise and the fleets leave without me. I'm sorry you won't be there to watch me capture the Avatar and reunite two siblings that have been separated by war. But I can't have you getting in my way again."

With a furious yell, Zuko charged forward towards Zhao. But before a fist could hit my captor's face, Zhao casually pulled me in Zuko's direction. Seeing me, the prince stopped his attempted attack and lowered his hands.

Zhao's grip was still on me, but his focus had drifted to something else in the cabin. Very slowly, he released the grip on my arm, leaving me standing bound in the center of the room I stood where I was and followed his gaze. He was staring at the twin broadswords on the wall, underneath the blue mask. He took one blade off the wall and studied it with soft swings and dragging a finger across the blade. "I didn't know you were skilled in broadswords, Prince Zuko."

"I'm not." Zuko was looking down. "They're antiques. Just decorative."

"Have you heard of the Blue Spirit, General Iroh? Gitan?"

The Blue Spirit? The name didn't ring any bells. Yet the way Zhao spoke the words carried a weight. Whoever this Blue Spirit was, they had managed to get under the general's skin. The blades on the wall could have been similar to something they used.

"No," I replied.

"Just rumors," Iroh answered. 'I don't think he is real."

Zhao's face became stony. He handed the hilt of the blade to Iroh. "Oh, he's real, all right. He's a criminal, and an enemy of the Fire Nation. But I have a feeling that justice will catch up to him soon." He saw me standing in the room and put his hand on my arm. A look fired at Zuko's direction made the prince stiffen and glare, but he made no more attempts to try and attack Zhao. The admiral smiled and met Iroh's gaze. "General Iroh, the offer to join my mission still stands…if you change your mind."

As Zhao dragged me out of the cabin, I chanced one last look at Zuko. He stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the empty space where the sword had hung.

The cold night air hit me as Zhao dragged me out. Torches flickered, casting long, dancing shadows across the faces of the Fire Nation soldiers now bustling with Zhao's orders. My stomach clenched as I saw Zuko's crew being herded towards another ship, their expressions a mixture of confusion and resignation.

We boarded Zhao's flagship, a formidable vessel that dwarfed Zuko's smaller ship. I was led below deck, down a narrow corridor, and finally shoved into a small, dimly lit cabin with only one slit as a window. A soldier expertly pulled my staff out of its holster, and before I could object, my wrists were untied and clamped into metal shackles along the wall. The door clanged shut behind me, and I heard the distinct sound of a lock turning. I was alone, weaponless, and bound.

This hadn't been the first time I had been locked in a Fire Nation brig, but the fear and panic were still the same. Worse, the reason I was locked up was for the same reason; I was being taken to the North Pole, a pawn in Zhao's twisted race to capture the Avatar. Zuko, the one person who had shown me kindness and a strange sort of understanding, was being left behind, powerless to help. The fear for my own safety warred with a deeper fear for what Zhao might do to Zuko.

I tried to break the chains by pulling as hard as I could when I stopped back to the point where they were taut, but it was futile. The metal was refined and unmoving. Sighing in defeat, I leaned against the cold, damp wall, the hissing of steam through the pipes the only sound in the dim lighting. My mind raced, desperately searching for any glimmer of hope, any way out of this nightmare.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced – Zuko's intense gaze, the clenching of his fist. It wasn't just anger I had seen in his eyes; there was a promise there, unspoken but palpable. A fierce protectiveness that transcended his usual brooding demeanor. Could I hold onto that? Could I believe that even though he couldn't act now, he wouldn't abandon me?

The thought was a fragile spark in the darkness, but it was enough to keep the despair at bay. I closed my eyes, focusing on that image of Zuko, clinging to the hope that somehow, some way, he would find a way to help me. The journey to the North Pole would be long and dangerous, but I couldn't give up. Not yet.

I slept through most of the following day. Or rather tried to. The winter chill seeped into this cell, and in a way, it was worse than the less advanced cell on Zuko's ship. The only advancement the cell had was a panel in the door that only slid one way where my meals were delivered. I only received breakfast and dinner, and unlike the thoughtfully prepared dishes given by the cook on Zuko's ship, the presentation of the jook I was given both times was sloppy. It was also underseasoned, tasting and feeling more like glue. I choked it down, chasing it with the water also provided.

The chains were rough around my wrists, and I grunted whenever I tried to get comfortable. I didn't dare try to shift positions, out of fear that I would accidentally choke on my own binding. Only two images kept me from maneuvering too much; Aang's wide eyed smile, and the silent promise I had seen in Zuko's eyes. Both of them wouldn't want me to wallow in self pity.

Very slowly, I rose from the cold floor. Through the tiny slits in the window, I could make out the rest of Zhao's fleet. If Zuko's ship was still out there, it was hidden. Every ship looked like a matched set. Seeing the pointiness and black metal turned my stomach to ice. All of this just to go after a twelve year old boy. Yes, Aang was a powerful bender and fighter, but he hadn't become a master yet. Some small part of me felt a sense of comfort. The Fire Nation was afraid of a small child.

While I didn't have my staff, working on my technique, though bound, would be a better use of my time. I had slumped and cried for too long. I began weaving through various stances and movesets, the chains rattling as I began to twirl my wrists. For a brief moment, I could feel the familiar weight in my hands, if only for a moment. With each step and each practiced strike, memories and words spurned me into the next move.

The laughter and humiliation I had endured for not being an Airbender, and the heavy weight of feeling like Aang;'s shadow as he was praised for Airbending feats.

"Don't let the thorns of the past prick the buds of something new," Iroh had advised.

Aang grinning and giving me a thumbs up on his air scooter as he pretended to be someone for me to catch as I trained on the Southern Air Temple.

"Think about the path that suits your needs, not one that falls into your lap" June had said,

The nod and genuine smile that crossed Zuko's face when I had repaired the crow's nest during the storm.

"You never know when the winds will change…" Sister Wei's advice echoed. Almost on cue with that thought, I felt a breeze hit my face.

A breeze that smelled of smoke. Then there was the sound of something exploding. I looked out the window, curious. Was this a catapult test using a new kind of firearms? It would explain the sound and smell. Yet as I looked out, I saw that what was being blown up was not a simple target. The explosions were going off in rapid succession, the largest one happening at the very top of the shadowed structure. Through the orange blasts of fire and the curling smoke, I recognized the poor vessel that had been burst into flotsam that floated away.

"No…" I murmured weakly. I shouted it this time, as if trying to push it away with my own denial. "No!"

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the shadowy walls of my cell, which had grown darker with nighttime. The hope I had clung to moments cracked. Zuko…Iroh…the two Firebenders who had saved me from the ice, even though it was through a misunderstanding. The general who had given me advice and tea and company during some of my lowest times. And the exiled prince who was lost, whom I had at first hated but now had viewed as a close friend despite our clashing missions…They were gone.

A wave of despair washed over me, heavy and suffocating. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds and smells. I sobbed into my hands. But beneath the despair, a flicker of something else began to ignite – a raw, burning anger.

Anger at Zhao, for his cruelty, for his calculated move. Anger at my own powerlessness. And a fierce, desperate hope that somehow, miraculously, Zuko had survived. That this wasn't the end.

I strained against the chains binding my wrists, a surge of adrenaline coursing through me. The fight wasn't over. Not yet. If Zuko was gone, then Zhao would pay. He would pay for everything he had done. The protectiveness and promise I had seen in Zuko's eyes now mirrored my own resolve. I wouldn't let his sacrifice, if that's what it was, be in vain. I had to escape. I had to make Zhao pay. Not just for Zuko, but for Aang, too.