Chapter Text
The Town
It’s a harsh landscape of ice, snow, and salty water. Zuko stands on the balcony of his observation deck, scanning the horizon with his telescope, as he has been doing nonstop for hours. Various birds fly overhead, distant and silent. Occasional movement betrays some type of arctic foxhound, white fur on white snow. Or a polar leopard seal might surface, drawing his eye as the inky black waters are momentarily broken by gray skin. Or, more often than not, penguin otters shuffling on the snow capture his attention with their sharp contrast of black on the blank background. Even the rocks sprinkled throughout this kingdom of ice cause him to double-take, squinting through his finder desperately searching for human life.
There is, like always, nothing. He frowned. Sea salt spray and icy winds have chapped his lips and knuckles; the never-setting sun frays his nerves. Uncle approached; he knows it’s him by the slow shuffling gait. His presence feels like a physical pressure behind Zuko’s back. He does his best to ignore it.
“Though the day is lovely, and not a cloud is in the sky, the hour grows late,” he said. A hand appeared by Zuko’s side, holding a small cup of steaming liquid. “This is a calming blend, if you feel like a hot drink.”
Zuko hunched back down, eye to the telescope, pointedly ignoring the offering. “I don’t want your tea, Uncle.”
A sigh. “Very well, though hot liquid would do you good out here. Have you made any progress, nephew?”
“I’d have already told you if I had!” Zuko didn’t mean to shout, but his frustrations kept erupting. He could feel time ticking away, his life slowly atrophying in this monotonous routine. With the sun never dipping below the horizon, and the occasional boulder being the more interesting variation on the coastline, and the same crew with the same haughty attitudes and disrespect, and- and the same fruitless searching…
“You know,” Uncle started, after a moment of silence. “We are very near the last known location of a Southern tribe.” Zuko scowled. “I would assume, of course, that they have moved. They are, after all, a nomadic people.” Zuko scowled deeper, turning toward his uncle. “But they would likely not stray too far. This is an excellent opportunity to renew your studies of Water Tribe history and culture.”
“I don’t care about that,” Zuko snarled, twisting the large scope around to start searching a new section of snow. “I only care about finding the Avatar.”
Iroh looked up at the sky as he sighed audibly. Exasperation seemed to ooze from the old man, and Zuko tensed his shoulders. “Please, Prince Zuko, join me for some tea and dinner. We can continue to scan the horizon together. I have my spyglass with me.”
At that, Zuko stopped. He stayed hunched, eye pressed to the cool metal enough that he was sure he’d have a mark, but his body froze and ears almost literally perked. “You’d look, too?” He asked, mumbling. Suddenly his outburst felt childish. His cheeks warmed. He resumed scanning the snow.
A hand rested on his shoulder. Zuko caught his breath, feeling a twinge of embarrassment and perhaps some shame. He shrugged the hand off. “I don’t need any tea, and I’m not hungry. But if you want to join me in my search this evening, you would be welcome.”
Iroh pulled his hand back, resting it on his stomach. He nodded, though Zuko wasn’t looking. “Perhaps I will bring down dinner, since our talented cook has prepared a delicious meal this evening. If you are not hungry now, you can warm it for yourself later. I will return for our vigil in a few minutes.”
Zuko knew his uncle was leaving, knew his uncle meant well, but he didn’t move. He kept in his awkward hunched-over stance and stared out. If it was dinner time, he thought to himself, perhaps the tribes would also be cooking and eating. Maybe he couldn’t see them, but he might be able to see some smoke. He stood, stretching out his back and feeling a pop between his shoulder blades. He rolled his neck side to side, feeling some more crunching and popping. Perhaps he shouldn’t use this telescope exclusively; or maybe he should think to bring his own spyglass to give his back an occasional break.
Before long, Iroh returned with two bowls of some noodle dish, the steam swirling and misting in the frigid air. Behind him, one of the crew carried two chairs and a tray with a teapot and cups.
“Thank you so much, Yuto,” his uncle bowed, grabbing the tray while the crewman set down the chairs.
“Of course, General.” He bowed deeply, smiling at Iroh, before turning his gaze to Zuko. “Prince Zuko,” he bowed again, slightly less deep and without the smile.
Zuko’s scowl returned. With narrowed eyes, he watched Yuto walk back inside and shut the door.
“MM, delicious,” his uncle said, slurping udon with gusto. “Haruki outdid himself tonight. Try this, nephew.”
“No thanks.” His lip turned up at his uncle’s slurping, and Zuko crossed his arms. Iroh simply smiled, and continued to enjoy his dinner. Loudly. “Can I borrow your spyglass?” He asked, and Iroh laughed.
“Would you believe it! I left it in my room. How silly of me. After dinner, I will go and retrieve it. Then we can search the skyline together.” He gave Zuko a sly, sideways glance. “And how could I forget. The crew is planning a music night tonight. Since you are not tired, and desire to stay awake, you will be here for the festivities. Perhaps you could play with us?”
Zuko balled his hands to fists. “No. I don’t want to play in your stupid music nights. I have serious things to do.” He stalked off, feet stomping, and slammed the door to the control tower. His room was one floor down, and a few doors away from the staircase. He slammed open the door, slammed it shut, and threw himself on his bed mat.
“Agh!” He yelled, voice muffled in his sheets. Then he stood, found his spyglass, and returned to the old man still slurping noodles and enjoying the sunlight.
“Mm, welcome back, Prince Zuko. Ah, I see you found your own spyglass. How fortuitous. Now I can use the telescope.”
Zuko nodded, jaw clenched as tight as his fist, and sat down. He picked up his noodles and started to eat, ignoring his uncle’s knowing gaze.
“Since you are eating,” Iroh said, looking out toward the passing icebergs, “perhaps it would be a fine time to remind you a bit about this region’s history.”
“I told you, I don’t care about the history! I just want to find the Avatar.” Iroh raised his hand and opened his mouth, about to speak. “In silence!” Iroh lowered his hand, attention back toward his noodles.
Minutes passed by, with only the sound of distant waves and slurped soup reaching their ears. Zuko grumbled, eating noiselessly as was proper, glaring toward his dinner companion.
A thin, wispy trail of smoke was rising over a distant ridge.
Zuko stood, bowl crashing to the ground, and pulled up his spyglass. “Uncle!” he shouted, finger raised in the direction of the town.
Iroh stood as well, placing his bowl on his seat carefully before stepping toward the telescope.
“What do you see?” He asked, swinging the device toward his outstretched finger.
“Smoke. A town. People.” Zuko lowered the spyglass and stared unhindered toward his new destination. “They might know where the Avatar is.” Excitement began to bubble in his stomach, and he felt nervous energy build in his fingertips.
“Nephew.” From the tone alone, Zuko’s excitement turned to dread. “Please, don’t get your hopes up. Likely, this is a small village with only a few families struggling to survive in this harsh landscape. We need to have tact, and patience, if we are to ask them-“
Zuko slashed his arm out toward his uncle. “Enough! I know all of that, Uncle.” He stared out toward the smoke again. “I just; I have a feeling about this place. That this is it. It is my destiny to find the Avatar, and I feel pulled here.”
Iroh was somber, face darkened, but Zuko paid no mind. He stormed toward Lieutenant Jee, currently on duty at the helm. From his position, Iroh could feel the change of the engine and hear the groaning of the ship as it slowed, turned, corrected course, and began to speed again. Zuko roused the three others on active duty, and also disturbed the four who were just relieved from their day shift, in order to spread the news. His excitement was palpable, but not infectious. Iroh closed his eyes, grimacing as he imagined their landfall. A slow, steady breath escaped his lips. He sipped his tea, staring straight ahead toward that thin line of smoke. The sun was a burning orange disc just barely hovering above the horizon, creating harsh shadows and painting the sky red. He wondered to himself if this was an omen; Agni casting a bloody hue to the delicate blue landscape, unsetting in this foreign land ruled by the moon.
It was a day before they made it to town.
Convincing Zuko to sleep had been impossible, and dark circles hung like crescent moons under his golden eyes. As if to ward off any insinuation that he was exhausted, Zuko stood up straighter and more rigid than usual. No smile graced his lips, only his usual frown. He wore his full armor set, standing ready to brace himself as their ship cut through a section of ice in their approach to town. Iroh stepped in front of him, breaking his concentrated staring toward the interior steel hull. Zuko grimaced.
“What, Uncle?”
“Well, Zuko, I believe that it will be a mistake to enter this village in full armor,” Iroh was musing, as if this had just occurred to him. “There are no water benders left to our knowledge in the South, and we are already an aggressor to these people. I believe we will get more answers through diplomacy and respect than with such thinly veiled threats.”
Under the weight of his uncle’s stare, Zuko faltered. “We are a strong nation, and strong fighters. I can’t help it if they are intimidated-“
“You are correct, they will be intimidated, by all of this.” Iroh gestured around. “If I was hoping to get useful information, I would start with pleasantries and a nice cup of tea. Probably Jasmine.” He chuckled, glancing toward Zuko’s face to see if he had relaxed at all. He hadn’t. “I have always found people more willing to share when greeted warmly and kindly. Interrogations get messy when you put others on the defense.”
Zuko deflated, rubbing his eyes and sighing. “So, what, Uncle, do you want me to take off my armor and offer them tea?”
“An excellent idea, nephew! Jee, could you help Prince Zuko remove his armor?”
“Wait- I-“
“And, of course, Aoi and Ren, you may remove your helms for the purpose of this trip.”
“No, I-“
“Yuto, if you would be so kind as to go to our lovely cook and ask for some hot water to get started, and bring down some pots for me after we’ve landed…”
Yuto bowed, turning and leaving. Aoi and Ren, two soldiers flanking Zuko, took off their helmets and tucked them under their arms. Jee, who had also removed his helm, approached the sputtering teenager and stared him directly in the eyes.
“Wise choice, Prince Zuko,” he said, voice tight. He squinted, earning a glare in return from Zuko. “Shall I assist you in removing this armor?”
Zuko kept his eyes narrowed toward Jee, but stole a glance sideways at his uncle. “Fine.”
The boat landed, carving through solid ice with metallic groans and sharp ringing. The hull hissed open with steam-powered mechanisms, landing with a deep thud on to thick snow and forming a ramp down. Zuko approached at the head of the party, with his uncle slightly behind and to the right. He scanned the village.
Barely a half down women cowered together in a huddle, their numbers doubled in young children all hiding around their legs. One elderly woman stood in their midst, and one teenage girl. Zuko stopped, momentarily confused by the group. A warrior yelled from the side, hand raised, and face paint already smeared mostly off. He charged, but Zuko easily side-stepped to dodge and sent the kid headfirst in to a snow pile.
Was this it? This group of frail women, and one kid playing soldier?
Iroh cleared his throat, nudging Zuko. He was busy, staring out at the crowd, watching their faces react in terror and fear. A knot of some emotion began to twist in his stomach. Zuko looked at his uncle, and as if telephatic the man seemed to understand his question. He stepped forward, addressing the group.
“Greetings!” He yelled, cheery voice echoing through the town. “I know we are not the most pleasant of visitors, but we are here for only a moment before we continue on our way. Is there someone in charge that we could speak to?”
“Yeah- me!” Yelled the boy, who had righted himself and was again charging them. He swung toward Uncle, and Zuko called out, hand outstretched, but Iroh calmly disarmed the boy and pushed him to the side.
“I am sorry, young man,” his uncle chuckled. Zuko felt a wave of relief in his chest, but his anger did not subside. His fists clenched tight, and he could feel slight heat beginning to emanate from them. “You will forgive me, I hope,” his uncle continued, squatting down. “I am not a young man anymore, and fighting does not suit me. However, I do have a special place in my heart for tea, and candies. Perhaps,” Iroh glanced out toward the village, making eye contact with the elderly woman, “we can arrange some trading? I would gladly give some provisions in exchange for a conversation.”
Zuko watched as a young girl- probably around Azula’s age- stepped forward.
She said nothing, but stood looking out toward them with fierce hatred in her eyes. Where the rest of their town looked beaten down, she loomed in strength. Her eyes met Zuko’s, and for a brief moment he felt a stab of… something. He narrowed his eyes at her, matching her ferocity.
Iroh was at the ramp’s edge, stepping out to the snow. The girl approached him warily, angling her body in front of the mass of women and children. Zuko watched as Uncle started speaking to her, and as confusion appeared on her features. She had an easy face to read. That would be key to his success here. He stepped closer, hoping to hear their conversation. The warrior boy was standing now, hunched over beside the girl and glaring at his uncle. Her arms were crossed, lips turned down and brows furrowed.
Zuko groaned inwardly. This was such a waste of time. These people weren’t going to tell them about the Avatar with this approach. If they knew anything at all, they would never reveal it to someone who wasn’t a threat. He looked between the girl and the group again. Maybe she would try to resist, but the rest of them would have broken immediately and told him everything he needed to know if he’d come in armor. Next time, he’d do it his way.
Without realizing it, he had walked up next to his uncle and was now mirroring the girl’s stance, arm’s crossed and face scowling. “Nephew,” he said, “Though they have declined our offer of tea and treats, these two would be willing to sit with us and answer our questions. Isn’t that nice?”
“Sure,” Zuko fought the urge to say more, glaring harder at the two water tribe kids. The one in face paint was openly fuming, hand clenching hard on some strange looking club. The girl betrayed her strong front by tapping her fingers incessantly against her arm. Zuko smirked. She was nervous.
She noticed him staring at her hands and stopped their motion. Though they still seemed to be shaking, she tensed and tried to hide that fact. One hand continuously reached up to touch a pendant on her neck, as if rubbing the carved ivory was soothing.
“Let me introduce my nephew, Zuko,” the old man chuckled, swinging his arm around as if presenting Zuko.
He huffed, sending hot air through his nostrils. Billowing steam rose like smoke, and he smirked again at the wide-eyed reaction the group gave. “I have reason to believe that the Avatar is nearby,” Zuko said, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. He heard Uncle sigh, but plowed on. “Have you seen him?” His question was directed right to the girl. He watched, searching her expression. Her eyes narrowed momentarily, and with furrowed brows and slightly pursed lips she cocked her head to one side.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Zuko growled. “Have. You. Seen. The. Avatar.” She kept her mocking position, as if she didn’t understand his words. “The Avatar. Master of all four elements.” She started to shake her head, confusion not lifting. He bristled. Zuko glanced around. The group maintained their general atmosphere of fear, while the boy with the club was still staring daggers at him.
He reached forward toward the old woman. “He’d be about this age.” The girl lunged forward, reacting to Zuko’s motion as much as to the woman’s cry.
“Let her go!” He stopped his hand midair, just shy of clutching the woman’s parka. His arm dropped to his side, and his eyebrow raised. “If you want to do this the easy way, then tell me what you know.” From his clenched fists erupted a small jet of fire.
She held such an intensity in her gaze that he almost didn’t notice her rapid breath, or the sweat on her temple, or the shaking of her gloved hands. He did notice her eyes focusing on his fire bending. He cooled his fire off, standing back but not lowering his gaze. The back of his neck felt hot, and his scar itched, but he refused to address either one.
“We are all that you see,” she said, slightly frantic. “We’re a small village. Why on earth would the Avatar hide here?”
Zuko glowered, eyes shifting to the side.
“No one has seen an airbender in over a hundred years,” she continued. “Not since the Fire Nation killed them all!” Zuko bared his teeth, grinding them together as she kept talking. “Just like the Fire Nation did to us.” Her voice grew soft. “I’ve never met a waterbender, either.”
She seemed so earnest that Zuko almost completely backed down. But he had never been good at discerning lies. “Then you wouldn’t mind if we searched your village.”
“Of course I mind, but I can’t stop you.” Her voice was shrill. She gestured behind her, toward the tents and small igloos.
Without orders, Aoi and Ren stepped forward and began to systematically peer in to tents and doorways. A few dwellings they entered, but they emerged quickly and silently. For minutes, Zuko watched with arms crossed as the town held each other close. Something raw was eating at his gut. He had a nagging feeling he was missing something important. The girl had dropped her attitude and was holding the old woman close, eyes closed, while the boy still stood in front of everyone, hand clenching his weapon.
Aoi and Ren came back. “No one else is here, sir,” Ren said, back to the town.
Zuko nodded sharply. “Return to the ship.”
He waited a moment, glaring out at the huddled women and children. Ah. That was it. There were no men here at all. He did another quick scan. And no babies. The youngest children were all walking around on their own. He remembered, vaguely, his uncle trying to get him to listen to the histories again. He squinted toward the villagers, causing one of them to stumble backward. Then, his eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed.
“Lets go, Uncle,” he whispered. Without addressing the town again, he turned heel and stalked back up to his ship. Distantly, he heard Uncle speaking to them. “Thank you for your patience,” he was saying, “and your hospitality. Please enjoy your solstice celebration soon.” He bowed toward them before walking back up the gangplank.
Eyes cast down, toward the village, toward the defiant girl and boy in a crowd of quivering adults, Zuko watched the ramp raise to become part of their hull once more. He might have imagined it, but it almost looked like the girl was about to stick her tongue out at him just when she was out of sight. He fumed.
“Okay, Uncle, remind me of the histories.”