Chapter Text
That day didn't foreshadow anything bad.
They clashed with Fire Nation soldiers once again, repelling attacks from their armored warships that had reached the shore. Kuai Liang fought with all his might—freezing enemies knee-deep in ice, slowing them down, disorienting them, finding weaknesses in their defenses, sowing chaos in their ranks, distracting them, forcing them to stand still. He was a waterbender, but his true weapon was ice. He devised new techniques, unleashing his own long-suppressed ingenuity, and such moves could not be found in any training scrolls or taught by waterbending masters. He and Bi-Han had trained together many times in the past, honing their strikes, perfecting their skills, striving to find combinations that could even catch seasoned warriors off guard.
Now, these techniques served to confuse the firebenders, who were accustomed to standard waterbending attacks. Kuai Liang dodged, leaving behind an icy decoy, and smiled triumphantly as his hapless opponent struck the silvery copy of his body with full force and froze over, encased in a thick, glittering shell of ice. This trick was a new addition to his arsenal, and seeing it in action firsthand was thrilling. But alas, it wouldn't hold him for long. For he was a firebender. His breath would melt the ice if he was a skilled bender. And unfortunately, Scorpion’s squad didn't recruit any other kind.
Kuai Liang scanned the battlefield, ready to continue fighting the other soldiers, when a sudden instinct pierced him—a premonition of something strange, something that troubled his very soul. It was as if a chill ran down his spine, blooming like frost on bone, turning his blood to ice. Someone's gaze—attentive, sharp—was boring into the back of his skull. He felt it all too clearly. He spun around sharply and locked eyes with the commander. The black and gold spiked inlays on the traditional armor of the Fire Nation army glinted under the rays of the arctic sun. Kuai Liang froze. His heart hammered wildly in his chest.
Scorpion.
This man had become a true calamity for the Northern Water Tribe. He was lethally, unpredictably dangerous.
Kuai Liang knew he was no master. He assessed his own abilities with sober clarity. His unorthodox techniques gave him an edge, but his actual combat experience was criminally lacking. He and Bi-Han had volunteered for the army just over a year and a half ago, and a full six months of that had been spent on training before they were ever allowed on a real battlefield. That alone was a success, a testament to their rapid progress. He and his brother learned quickly. But Scorpion far surpassed him. Kuai Liang knew this perfectly well. He should retreat. Alone, he would decide nothing. And yet, clenching his fists in defiance of his own reasoning, he met his enemy's golden-brown eyes with a challenge. He wouldn’t make it easy for him, regardless. He would fight to the end, to his last breath. His opponent made a sharp, commanding gesture to his subordinates, showing no haste to engage the waterbender himself, merely continuing to watch intently, clearly trying to read his intentions. The Fire Nation soldiers began to withdraw, obeying their commander.
"Retreat," the wind carried Scorpion’s voice. "We’ve secured what we came for. The main objective is done.
Kuai Liang frowned, but his duty now was to tend to the wounded. He knelt beside Tomas, helped him to his feet, and assessed the wound on his side with a professional glance. Water flowed from his hands, automatically, pulsing with a blue light, sealing the injury and knitting the torn flesh back together. Although both he and his brother were born waterbenders, the gift of healing had been granted only to Kuai Liang. The comrades who had been fighting nearby ceased their struggle, lowered their weapons, and watched in confusion as the enemy soldiers retreated. The gazes of the Northern tribesmen reflected unease and bewilderment.
"Commander Hasashi, what about that bender? Doesn’t he meet the criteria as well?"
"One is enough for us," Scorpion’s voice carried a crooked smirk. "He will tell us everything we need to know."
Watching the soldiers retreat towards the ocean, Kuai Liang did not know then that that day marked the beginning of the end. For the Fire Nation had taken Bi-Han captive.
Kuai Liang clenched his fists in fury. The commander of their unit, Lin Kuei—a warrior named Sektor—merely waved a dismissive hand.
"We will not be rescuing Bi-Han, Tundra. They are already gone, and chasing their ship is pointless when there are far more important tasks at hand. Bi-Han has only himself to blame for getting captured. Let this be a lesson to the others."
Kuai Liang barely restrained himself from lunging at the commander. Chain of command was no joke, and fighting a superior officer meant facing a court-martial. Gritting his teeth, he gave a sharp, formal bow, ostensibly accepting the order, and seized the first opportunity to slip out of the command tent.
Tomas found him at the cliff’s edge, staring absently into the distance at the vast, snow-white expanse—pale with rage and fear for his brother’s life. Waterbenders from their sister tribe in the South had been abducted with terrifying regularity, and not a single one had ever returned home. Rumors ranged from the absurd to the blood-chilling, but the truth remained an unsolved mystery. And on this ill-fated day, Bi-Han had become the first waterbender abducted from the Northern Water Tribe.
Damn invaders, Kuai Liang thought with fury. The war had been raging for over seventy years, but the Fire Lords showed no signs of relenting. Peace treaties crumbled to dust, and their expansionist ambitions and appetites only grew with each new ruler who ascended the throne.
"Kuai Liang..." Tomas cautiously touched his shoulder.
The waterbender nearly exploded but held himself back. He knew that rage wouldn’t help the situation, and he had no right to lash out at a close friend and comrade, no matter how crushed he felt. It would have been utterly unfair to him. His friend had always shown him kindness.
"Maybe not all is lost?" Tomas spoke quietly but insistently, wanting to offer comfort, to give hope, to convince the other. "Bi-Han is strong. Perhaps he’ll break free on his own. Or allies will rescue him. The Earth Kingdom might intervene, or the southern warriors. What if they managed to take him back from that damned ship?"
Kuai Liang clenched his jaw, trying to hold back a sharp retort. Relying on a lucky break was far too naive. One must always take fate into their own hands. Next, Tomas would bring up the Avatar—the mythical master of all four elements.
But aloud, he only muttered:
"I don't know. I wouldn’t count on anything. We'll have to inform Father and Frost."
After the battle, they were granted a brief return to the coast, to their home village—to prepare for new fights and regain their strength. Apparently, Sektor was trying to soften the blow of his refusal this way. He and Smoke were given two days of leave.
His father received the news of his son's disappearance with grim silence. But there was nothing he could do—the years had taken their toll. He had long since retired.
Frost went still. The girl frowned, a flash of grieve gleaming in her icy blue eyes. Kuai Liang knew: his fiancée respected Bi-Han, heeded his words—unlike himself. With him, she often argued, with or without reason.
He frowned again, noticing the necklace around her neck, the one he had woven with his own hands. He had crafted it carefully, though he had never had any interest in jewelry-making, but he knew Frost didn't like it. And yet, she wore it, for tradition demanded it.
Their marriage had been predetermined from the day Frost came to live in their house, left an orphan. She was the daughter of their father's old friend, and on his deathbed, he had extracted a vow: one of his sons would marry his only daughter.
Somehow, it had fallen to Kuai Liang to be the groom: likely because he and Frost were only ten years apart in age, unlike the sixteen years between her and Bi-Han. Frost had recently turned sixteen, while Kuai Liang himself was twenty-six. And he had spent a considerable amount of time struggling with that damned necklace on the passes—only to be rewarded with a disdainful look from his own fiancée during the solemn, awkward moment of their formal engagement. He loved Frost like a younger sister, but he often sighed heavily at the thought of their inevitable marriage.
At least there was no need to rush in the coming years. The engagement alone was enough for now.
He knew Frost was unhappy with it too, but to avoid shaming her elders, she often put on a show of eagerness and willingness to become his wife in public, displaying a compliance she was actually quite far from. Kuai Liang thought with dread about their potential future married life, when her criticism of him would only grow.
"Damn invaders," Frost's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Those bastards have no honor."
He winced again. Frost hated anyone even remotely connected to the Fire Nation or who practiced firebending. They had spent hours in pointless arguments about how one's origins don't determine their destiny. But now, as he recalled Commander Hasashi’s smug smirk, he clenched his fists, feeling a wild rage wash over him. He hated that man for taking his brother.
"I don't know what to do," Kuai Liang dropped his head into his hands. Frost knelt beside him, tentatively touching his shoulder. Kuai Liang froze like a statue, trying not to flinch to avoid offending her. He felt warm, familial affection for both Tomas and Frost, but he struggled immensely to endure the touch of others. Each time felt like an eternal torture. Only Bi-Han had his complete trust. And... his mother. But she died many years ago.
"Bi-Han is strong," her voice held an uncharacteristic and utterly unfamiliar softness. "He will manage."
"I don't think so," Kuai Liang shook his head bitterly. "He was captured by Scorpion. That man is as dangerous as the scorpions in the Earth Kingdom deserts. He will do everything to ensure Bi-Han can’t escape," he gritted his teeth, overwhelmed by a surge of dark, hopeless despair, emptiness, and loneliness. "Sektor refused to do anything. But..."
Frost looked at him expectantly. Fury burned in her eyes, but it wasn’t directed at him. Despite their constant arguments and criticism, she often cared for him in her own way, trusted him, and even defended him against gossips.
"But I will find Bi-Han myself," he rose, gently moving his fiancée's hand aside. "And no one will stop me. I leave tonight."
Approval shone in Frost’s eyes. Truthfully, in that moment, he didn’t notice her suspicious compliance, didn't pay attention to the absence of their usual arguments and criticism, too consumed by thoughts of his brother. He didn’t understand then what the cunning, spirited girl had in mind. He didn't guess that she had already decided to embark on the journey with him.
That night, he set sail in a small boat, aiding his progress with waterbending. The splash of waves wove a silvery chime into his ears. As if nothing had happened. As if it were just a nightly outing with his brother. The stars glittered brightly across the sky, their distorted reflections spilling onto the black plane of the ocean. But a heavy, vise-like anguish gripped his heart. His brother wasn't by his side; he was a captive. And his absence felt unbearable.
He followed the enemy's trail, clinging to the fragile hope that since his brother had been taken alive, they must need him for something. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on the thought that he might lose him forever. That was beyond his strength.
His astonishment was profound when Frost, who had hidden behind some sacks, emerged onto the deck and began bending the waves alongside him. He stood dumbfounded, feeling like a complete fool. Maybe Frost was right to criticize him so often, because over the half-night he had spent following the Fire Nation ship—or rather, heading in their direction—it hadn't occurred to him to double-check his belongings.
"What are you doing here?" his voice came out sharp. But at least the irritation distracted him from his heavy thoughts. "You should be at home."
"Helping you stay out of trouble, Kuai Liang," Frost's smile was sharp, sly, and very pleased. "I know you too well; without me, you'll get into a heap of trouble and won't get Bi-Han back.
"Frost," Kuai Liang began angrily. "You don't understand how dangerous this journey is..."
"And you don't understand that I want to help you, Kuai Liang. One man is no warrior. If you get captured too, it won't do anyone any good," the girl's eyes flashed with anger.
"If we both get captured, it will be a complete failure!" The waterbender gritted his teeth but tried to calm his anger to avoid accidentally summoning a large wave or freezing the water, as had happened in his teenage years. "Think of Father, he loves you like his own daughter!"
"Tomas will look after him; he agreed to say we’re on a secret mission. So Father won’t worry," Frost spoke again in a calm tone.
"You roped Tomas into this madness too?" Kuai Liang groaned in despair. "I thought at least he had some sense. I am utterly astonished by all this insanity!"
"In any case," Frost declared categorically, cutting off his outrage. "You have no choice: either I go with you, or you turn around to take me back, lose a ton of time, and then don't go anywhere at all because by then the others will have noticed you're gone. Wonderful prospects, right?"
"Ah, damn it!" Kuai Liang turned away. "You're impossible!"
"That's exactly why you love me so much, admit it?" she smirked, and it might have been almost charming if Kuai Liang weren't so well-acquainted with her character. He sighed and turned away from her.
Unfortunately, the cunning girl was right. He couldn’t afford to lose any more time, as the distance gap was already enormous. He was heading in the same direction the firebenders' ship had sailed, but catching up to it in a sailboat was a daunting task. If he turned back now, there was no guarantee he would ever find his brother again. Bi-Han could very well be handed over to the other units by then.
He sighed, focusing on the movement of his hands, on the bending that guided the ocean’s waves. He didn’t even want to think about the potential consequences of his actions. From the moment his escape was discovered, he would be considered a deserter, and shame would fall upon him when he returned. But none of that mattered now. He had to bring Bi-Han home. He would accept the punishment for insubordination later. The only thing that mattered was getting there in time. And the waves obeyed him, speeding the boat along.
Hanzo paced the deck, feeling a surge of anticipation. They had captured a waterbender, and now they had a chance to uncover the secrets of his new ice techniques—all they had to do was wait for the northerner to break. Admittedly, the prisoner proved stubborn and uncooperative, paying no heed to threats.
Hanzo’s thoughts involuntary turned to the other waterbender—likely the prisoner’s brother, judging by their similar features. At the memory of his smile and clear, light-blue eyes, like a winter sunlit sky, something stirred within him, but it was all irrelevant. They had crossed paths multiple times on the battlefield, and this icebender, despite his limited combat experience, had already caused plenty of trouble for his men.
Strangely enough, though, he didn’t seem to try to kill, only to wound, disorient, distract. This... was surprising. Hanzo thought most hated the Fire Nation, failing to understand the progress they brought and their desire to help other nations develop. For some reason, that waterbender piqued his interest, drew his gaze. His techniques were unexpected yet elegant, clever.
He recalled their second-to-last encounter—ice, fanned out like a screen, extinguishing fireballs before shattering into diamond dust, reflecting the sun's rays; amplifying the light's brightness through refraction and blinding his soldiers for a moment. In that instant, Hanzo had barely suppressed an admiring smile. A beautiful tactic. Superb. A pity he was an enemy. If Hanzo had a soldier like that, they would have many advantages in battle. But a waterbender would never fight on their side. That was an axiom.
Hanzo descended into the cabin where the prisoner was being held. Dim oil torches smoked, the smell of sea salt mixing with that of iron.
"He hasn’t broken, sir. And you've forbidden the use of torture."
"Well, I'll talk to him myself," Hanzo shrugged. He knew torture was most often a useless option, despite some commanders considering it a necessity. Under the threat of pain, one would admit to anything. No, waiting and the uncertainty of one's fate, the limbo of their situation, worked far better. One could wait until the prisoner’s ideals faded before the gray monotony of indefinite days, and until information became the only salvation, the only chance for something—anything—to change.
Hanzo entered the cabin. The prisoner was shackled in chains. He was staring out the small, round porthole at the rising evening moon, seated on a straw pallet. They fed him with extreme caution, watching vigilantly to ensure the waterbender didn't attempt to use his power to escape. Hanzo had no intention of leaving any loopholes or weaknesses.
"Well, hello there, waterbender! Or should I say "icebender"?"
The prisoner bared his teeth in a snarl.
"If you think you can break me, Hasashi, you are deeply mistaken."
"Oh, I don't intend to break you," Hanzo stepped closer, smiling almost amiably. "I just need you to be cooperative. We can start with an introduction. Your name, soldier?"
"You won’t get it," the waterbender’s eyes flashed. They were almost the same shade as his brother’s, yet entirely different. Hanzo would never confuse them. "You'll get nothing from me, fire scum."
"Well," Hanzo shrugged in feigned disappointment. "It's a shame your brother slipped away from us. But next time, he won’t escape so easily. Perhaps he’ll be more... agreeable."
Of course, had his soldiers heard this, they would have been greatly surprised, as Hanzo himself had ordered them not to touch the other icebender. But now, provocation was necessary. And the northerner reacted to it.
"You'll never catch Kuai Liang, you bastards!" His eyes held unmistakable fear. Hanzo gave a barely perceptible nod to himself. Information had to be extracted. The first stone of the foundation had been laid. Little by little, the waterbender would divulge other pieces of information. Once started, the rest would come easier.
"So, his name is Kuai Liang," Hanzo smiled, this time quite genuinely. The waterbender’s name sounded melodic, pleasant on his lips, and his heart fluttered with excitement once more. "Your brother has a beautiful name."
The waterbender stared at him with wide eyes. He realized his mistake.
"Don't you dare touch him, or you’ll pay, I swear to you!"
"Oh, don’t worry," Hanzo stepped closer. "Not a single hair will be harmed on his lovely head... if he tells us everything. Or if you stop being so tight-lipped."
The prisoner’s eyes reflected a smoldering rage, as deep as his despair. His brother was clearly dear to him. Hanzo smirked. He had no intention of hurting Kuai Liang if circumstances led to his capture. But uncertainty, ambiguity—these were effective. Implication was an underrated yet excellent tool, working on the nerves far more deeply than direct threats. Playing on someone's imagination often worked best in many cases.
"You'll still get nothing from me," the waterbender hissed.
"Oh, but I already have. The name of your beautiful brother—what valuable information indeed," the firebender turned and strode toward the door, mentally counting the seconds to himself.
One. Two. Three.
The prisoner’s spit, transforming into a speeding ice needle, was expected. Without turning around, Hanzo incinerated it mid-air. He glanced back and smirked again.
"Your manners are far from decent, icebender. But you have plenty of time to think about what you might share with us. Where did you find the scrolls? What are these techniques? How do we counter them? Think it over. Think very carefully.
A muffled roar was his answer. Chains rattled. Hanzo exited, slamming the heavy metal door shut with a resonant clang.