Fire benders were never easy to take down. Particularly ruthless ones like the infamous admiral Zhao would probably rather die fighting than be taken as a prisoner.

It looked like he almost had died fighting. His fine clothes were soaked with blood. He was missing a finger on his right hand, and had an ugly, deep cut down his leg. But he had been taken down – it had been Bato who had knocked him out – and now stood before Hakoda in the metal cuffs they used on fire benders. Cuffs that had an extra strap of metal that clasped around the palms, so the fire bender couldn’t even light a spark without giving himself nasty burns.

They hadn’t planned to cross paths with a fire nation ship, and certainly not this particular one. But the crew was far smaller than Hakoda would have expected from a royal vessel. He had lost two men, but sunk an entire fire nation ship. And captured two extremely valuable prisoners.

“Throw me overboard right here, right now,” Zhao told Hakoda in a supercilious voice. “I will not give you a single piece of information, nor the opportunity to get a ransom. The fire nation doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.” He swayed where he stood, blood dripping from his hand onto the deck.

The Fire prince, on the other hand, didn’t appear to have a scratch on him. He just stood there in the same metal cuffs, head bowed.

“Went down without a fight,” Bato informed him.

The boy didn’t look like he had much fight in him in the first place. He was scrawnier than Hakoda would have expected from a trained soldier.

“Down in the hold,” he commanded. “Chained to opposite walls.”

   >--<

All documents from Admiral Zhao’s and fire prince Zuko’s chambers were brought on board to be meticulously searched.

Natsiq was tasked with guarding the prisoners. He was initially wary about the job at hand, but found he didn’t have much to worry about. Admiral Zhao was grumbling angrily but also still bleeding profusely and look paler by the hour. And the prince just sat there, almost motionless, forehead leaning against the wooden boards of the ship. Natsiq sat at the entrance to the hold, flexing his muscles and playing around with his knives.

“Can I expect to get a medic in here soon, you barbarian?” Zhao demanded after an hour or two.

Natsiq looked up from sharpening his blade. “You have medics on your ships?”

Zhao sneered and looked away.

“Fancy,” Natsiq said, and went back to work.

He was relieved off his duty by Tamat, who also brought food for the prisoners. “Anything?” he asked in his deep voice.

Natsuq pointed a knife at Zhao. “I think he stopped bleeding.”

“Good. Worth more alive.” Tamat approached the prisoners and set a plate down in front of the admiral and then in front of the prince.

Neither of them touched the food. Admiral Zhao had his chin lifted, clearly too proud to accept their food. Ozai’s spawn simply didn’t react at all, like he hadn’t reacted to anything.

“I think he might be in a trance,” Natsuq said.

“Yeah?” Tamat turned and yelled ‘HEY!’ clapping his hands loudly.

The prince recoiled.

“No trance,” Tamat said. He used his foot to nudge the plate closer. “Eat, boy. Or we’ll force it down your throat.”

Natsuq left them, found himself something to eat, and then made his way to the Chief’s office, where several crewman were busy laying out the documents they had found on the fire nation ship.

“Need help?” he asked.

Hakoda waved him in, pointed to an unopened chest.

   >--<

“He ate,” Tamat announced when Natsuq came back down to the hold. “I had to knock him in the head a little, first, but he ate.”

“Good.” Natsuq wouldn’t have been able to tell from the prince’s posture. He was still sitting in exactly the same position. The plate at his feet was empty, though.

Zhao’s plate was empty, too. “What about him?”

“Didn’t need much encouragement to eat,” Tamat said. “I guess he wants to live.”

Admiral Zhao growled. “I’ll live long enough to kill you, barbarian.” The blood on his hands had dried up but he still seemed pale; sweat gleaming on his forehead.

“I’ll take you up on that bet,” Tamat said.

   >--<

Zuko traced the edges of the cup with his fingers, around and around.

They had given him a plate of food, and a cup of water. They hadn’t told him why they were keeping him alive; what they wanted. Zhao had been right when he told them that the fire nation didn’t negotiate. Maybe the water tribe men thought that was a bluff. They would discover soon enough that it wasn’t.

Until that moment, he tried to be as invisible as possible.

All the men on this crew were big and burly, like Zhao. They had deep, rumbling voices, like Zhao. They stared at him, unwaveringly, like Zhao.

Zuko wasn’t eager to find out in what other ways these men were like Zhao.

He had spent almost two years on that godforsaken ship, rarely able to even leave Zhao’s eyesight. How fitting that this is how it should all end. Shackled to the wall only a few armlengths away from the admiral. He would probably die with those eyes still on him.

The guard came over and snatched the cup back. Zuko tucked his arms in front of his stomach and turned to lean his head against the wall again.

“No spine at all. Don’t they teach you Fire Nation royalty any pride?” the guard goaded.

Pride? Yes, that used to be an important thing in Zuko’s life, he still had memories of it. Azula was always better at it then he was, but then, she was better at everything.

The guard huffed at the lack of response and moved over to Zhao, who was a far more interesting victim.

The admiral had always been easy to rile up. Zuko couldn’t help but clench every single one of his muscles as he listened to the guard mocking, the admiral spitting out insults in return. Whenever someone got Zhao angry, Zuko knew to brace himself. Because those frustrations would be taken out on him as soon as they were back in closed quarters.

The fact that the admiral was as incapacitated as he was, didn’t quell those instincts to run, run and hide.

   >--<

Hakoda sighed as he rearranged the last pile of documents. They had methodically sorted through admiral Zhao and fire prince Zuko’s possession, finding a treasure worth of information about allyships, coastlines. Very little about the movements of the fire nation fleet, but that was to be expected from a banished prince and his crew.

There was one object among Zhao’s possession that had him puzzled. A thin, round tube about the length of his lower arm, made mostly of a thick glass, with wires running through it that looked like they were made of copper, and a wooden handle. The technology was new to him. Perhaps he could get one of his prisoners to elaborate on their use before Hakoda would… dispose of both of them.

He should probably start with admiral Zhao. He had seemed far closer to death and might not be capable of giving the right information if Hakoda waited another day or two. And he would rather avoid the need to interrogate the young prince who, by his calculations, was now fifteen. Even if the boy needed to die, he didn’t need to suffer.

He asked Natsuq to follow him to the hold, leaving Bato in charge of the crew.

Zhao looked like a man who was valiantly trying to hide how weak he felt. Zuko looked like a boy who had been told by his mother to ‘stand in the corner and not come out until I tell you’. His forehead was still pressed against the wood, knees pulled up to his chest. As if he believed that making himself smaller might turn him invisible.

“Admiral,” Hakoda said. “We’ll be having our first conversation now. “It won’t have to turn unpleasant if you give me the information I want.”

“I’ll give you this one for free. You know, that boy can breathe fire,” Zhao said, jerking his head towards the fire prince. “You might want to gag him to.” And he barked out a chuckle that then turned into a cough.

The fire prince, if at all possible, stilled even further. Quite possibly, he stopped breathing altogether.

Hakoda knew fire breathing only as a legend. And didn’t see a reason why Zhao would reveal that information if it were true. “Is he delirious?” he asked Hamat, who was standing guard.

“No. Just an asshole, I think.”

Zhao groaned when Natsuq and Hakoda pulled him to his feet. He limped, his bloody leg twitching whenever it hit the ground.

They planted him in a chair in Hakoda’s cabin. Natsuq stood behind their prisoner, laying his hands on the man’s shoulder. Hakoda picked the foreign object up from the table and held it out. “What is it?”

Zhao looked down at it through half-lidded eyes. “Never seen that before in my life.”

Hakoda moved forward and pressed one hand down against Zhao’s wounded leg. The man grunted.

“Let’s try that again,” Hakoda said.

   >--<

Zuko glanced up when the men dragged Zhao back into the hold and shackled him to the wall once again. The wound on his leg had clearly reopened, fresh blood seeping through the fabric. The admiral was breathing heavily.

Their leader turned and gazed down at Zuko. “Next one, then.”

Zuko attempted to breathe evenly, but he was pretty sure the bulky water-tribe man who dragged him from the hold was still able to feal his heart hammer against his ribs.

They hauled him into a cabin, onto a chair. The man stood behind him, large hands gripping both his shoulders.

“My father is not going to pay for me,” Zuko said in an even voice.

“What do you know,” the man behind him drawled. “It speaks.”

“I wouldn’t expect the fire lord to pay,” the leader said, “for the prince who was burned and banished.”

Had Zhao told them? There was no way they could know otherwise. Even most people on Zhao’s crew hadn’t known the exact circumstances around his banishing.

The leader picked something up from his table — something Zuko recognized immediately.

It was probably safe to say this particular object was Zhao’s most prized possession. He had it on him at all times. His fingers would caress the handle whenever he was displeased; always a clear sign for Zuko that it would be a bad night. As soon as the door of their cabin had fallen shut, Zhao would unsheathe it and viciously jab it into Zuko’s stomach.

“I want to know what this is,” the leader said.

He hadn’t screwed off the top part, to expose the wires. So perhaps he didn’t know. And in Zuko’s experience, half-truths were always more convincing than complete lies.

“It works with electricity,” he said, keeping his voice monotone.

The leader raised a single eyebrow.

Maybe Zhao had already told them what it was. Boasted about it. How he used it to keep the fire brat in check. And now these men just wanted to see him dig his own grave. What if they were planning to keep him on the ship? Use him the way Zhao had used him?

Szeto, please, no. Just let them kill me.

“It’s a weapon.”

“Elaborate.”

“It was admiral Zhao’s,” Zuko said. “I’ve never used it.”

He realized his mistake when the leader exchanged glances with the man stood behind him. They would drag Zhao back in for another interrogation, throw Zuko’s words in this face. If Zhao hadn’t already told him what this weapon did, he would be far less inclined to keep it hidden a second time, knowing that Zuko had spilled secrets like a coward.

“You’ve seen him use it?”

Zuko nodded slowly.

“What effect does it have on the victim?”

“Electricity. It’s electricity.”

“Yes,” the leader said, seeming impatient. “I have no familiarity with this technology of yours. Elaborate, prince.”

“Pain.” Zuko said, still keeping his voice steady. “Like the inside of your body is on fire. And then you lose control of your muscles. Can’t move.”

It would always be at that point that Zhao would drag him onto his bed and force himself on him, use him; grunting and sweating and groping with greedy hands.

The leader’s eyes were cold and calculating. Zuko dropped his gaze to look down at the metal cuffs around his wrists and hands.

“Take him back,” the leader said. “I’ve heard enough.”

   >--<

“He’s very young,” Hakoda commented that night, as he wrote out long letters detailing the information he had gathered, to be sent to allied towns and nations.

Bato looked up from his own work. “So make it a mercy killing. We can’t possibly keep him alive, there is nowhere for him to go.”

“We could let him go at the next port.”

“To let his scrawny ass find his own way home? Let him be caught by earth kingdom soldiers? I heard they have unconventional methods of torture. Or did you plan to merrily sail into a fire nation port?”

No, Hakoda didn’t really see a way around this.

“I don’t like it either,” Bato said. “But the fire nation has never had qualms about killing our children. We can’t avoid killing theirs if they send them to the battle front.”

   >--<

Zhao’s condition worsened overnight. The next time Natsuq came down for guarding duty, the man was slumped against the wall, eyes closed. He hadn’t touched his latest meal.

“Wound is infected,” Tamat said, seeming utterly unbothered about it.

The fire prince was no longer sitting stock-still in that same position. He was lying on his side now, curled up, back towards the wall.

“Finally fell asleep,” Tamat said. “Stubborn little brat.”

Natsuq approached to place a cup of water near the prince, then did the same for the admiral. The man opened his eyes with visible effort. “Witch,” he rasped. “Be gone, wretched.”

Natsuq huffed and kicked against the man’s foot.

“He’s delirious,” Tamat said.

“Called me a witch!”

“Close enough.”

The noise had woken the prince up, Natsuq noticed when he turned back. Two eyes were glimmering up at him, like small coins of gold.

“Water,” Natsuq said curtly, pointing to where he had set the cup down.

The prince didn’t move, but Natsuq didn’t particularly care. Hakoda had been satisfied with his interrogation, which meant the only thing that could be next for the prince was a swift execution.

“You better drink, boy,” Zhao slurred. “You better drink, don’t disobey me.”

The wooden boards creaked above them. Hakoda entered the hold.

“He won’t make much sense, chief,” Natsuq warned.

“Hm.” Hakoda looked down at Zhao’s pale face. “We bring him up anyway.”

Natsuq helped Hakoda drag the admiral back to his cabin, and stood behind him once again as Zhao slumped in his chair.”

“Still wondering about my little lightning rod?” Zhao slurred. “Still want to— to— I bet you’d like a taste of him, wouldn’t you?”

“How do you mean?” Hakoda asked, picking up the object again and turning it over in his hands.

“You don’t— You won’t even need that thing. The brat is already meek as a lamb most of the time. You want to know how to get him to spread his legs? Just tell him to do it,” he rasped out a laugh. “You – You have a wooden ship, captain. How, how does that even float?”

Hakoda regarded him steadily for a moment, then held out the object. “How does it work?”

“Screw off the top. And then you shove it right into his stomach. Anywhere. But the stomach is the best. He’ll go down like a house on fire. If you’re going to use it on him, can I watch?”

“Who is him?”

“The brat of course. The boy. No information here, chief, nothing of value. No one ever told us anything. That’s what you get for chaperoning a banished brat. No one is coming.” He grinned manically. “No one is coming for you boy, quit your whining.”

Hakoda carefully screwed the top away from the object, exposing the copper wires.

“Try it on him,” Natsuq suggested with an evil sort of glee in his tone.

Hakoda shook his head. “For all I know I’ll set my own ship on fire.”

“I d-demand to see a medic,” Zhao said. “Get me a medic and I’ll tell you— make it worth your while.”

“It kinda sounds like he was saying…” Natsuq said.

“Bring him back down. I want you and Tamat and Bato in my cabin after lunch.”

   >--<

“Be careful not to touch it,” Hakoda said. The object still sat in the middle of his desk, the wires exposed.

Bato, Natsuq and Tamat had joined him in his cabin, and Hakoda relayed almost verbatim what Zhao had said during the latest interrogation.

“You all hear how that sounds, right?” Natsuq said. “Sounds to me like the prince is borderline catatonic for more than one reason.”

Bato looked skeptical. “The admiral was delirious.”

“But the way the prince described it before,” Natsuq said. “It sounded like it had been used on him.”

Bato shook his head. “Zhao wouldn’t dare. One bad rumor about him maltreating the prince and he’d lose his title and his head. Firelord Ozai would not allow it.”

“The firelord who banished his son?”

“To save face. He wouldn’t want any further disgrace upon his name. The boy is his oldest heir. The whole point of the banishment was for the boy to prove himself in the eyes of his nation, before ascending the throne.”

“That almost sounds like you’re accusing Ozai of competent parenting,” Tamat said dryly.

“The boy has been on that boat for almost two years.” Bato said. “Since he was thirteen.”

“Yes, we’re all very aware of the gruesome facts.”

“So get the boy back in here,” Bato said. “See what he has to say.”

Tamat went down and came back with the prince. The boy shuffled into the room, shoulders drawn up. He looked up, eyes widening when he saw four men around the room.

And then he saw Zhao’s weapon on the table, the wires exposed, and an expression appeared on his face that cut through Hakoda like a blade.

“No,” he said, choking on the single word and backing up, straight into Tamat. Tamat grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him further inside.

“No, no NO please,” the boy started squirming violently in Tamat’s grip, Hakoda rushed forward, “I can’t, no, no,” like he had lost all sense of where he was, “Please, please. Not that.”

“Kid,” Tamat said.

Zuko’s legs gave way and Tamat sank to the floor with him.

“Kid,” Hakoda said, kneeling and grabbing his shoulder.

The prince just shook violently and pleaded and cried like he expected the men to tear him in pieces with their bare hands.

Hakoda was pretty sure he knew what the prince expected. “Natsuq, hand me that damned thing!”

“Are you sure that’s the best—”

“Now!”

Natsuq grabbed the object off the table and handed it over. Hakoda slammed it down against the floor, took out his dagger and crushed the object under his blade. A single spark danced up his blade, his fingers tingled.

There was a harsh intake of breath from the prince. Hakoda looked up to see the boy frozen, staring back at him with wide, confused eyes. Tears silently dripped down his cheeks.

It was utterly silent for a few heartbeats. Hakoda could see Bato standing to his right. The man had covered his mouth with both hands, eyes wide in shock.

“We’re not going to use this against you, Zuko,” Hakoda said. “You have my word.”

The boy just stared back at him, looking dumbfounded, his chest heaving up and down rapidly.

“Tamat – let go of him. Someone get me a blanket.”

Tamat sat back and Zuko curled further into himself, pressing himself against the wall, his metal cuffs clinking together.

“Just…” the boy said.

Hakoda took the blanket from Natsuq and wrapped it around Zuko’s shoulders.

“Just… Just kill me, please,” the prince pleaded, turning his face to the wall.

Hakoda hadn’t even considered the what if it is true. Did it change things? Or was it just another reason to make the prince’s execution as swift and painless as possible? Put an end to what seemed to have been two horrifying years of abuse and rape?

First things first, though. “Tamat, Natsuq,” he said, his voice utterly calm. “Go throw the admiral overboard.”

“With pleasure,” Natsuq said grimly. They exited.

Hakoda used his dagger to push the shattered remains of Zhao’s weapon aside. He shifted into a cross-legged position, noticing the way Zuko was trailing his movements from the corner of his eye.

Hakoda tried to keep his gaze on the boy neutral as he considered his options.

He was willing to give the prince a chance. He just wasn’t sure if he was willing to risk the safety of his crew for it. Not to mention, he wasn’t sure what a ‘chance’ would look like. The boy clearly wasn’t safe in the fire nation. But he wouldn’t be safe anywhere else, either. It all depended, perhaps, on how much the boy would be willing to cooperate.

“What was your mission, prince?” he asked.

   >--<

He had been given a mission. A long, long time ago. One that admiral Zhao had never particularly cared for. He had spent the last two years terrorizing small, defenseless villages along the coast in an attempt to make a name for himself.

“To… To find the avatar.”

“The avatar who has been missing for almost a hundred years?”

Yes, Zuko didn’t need that pointed out to him. Zhao had already lorded it over him, again and again, how his father just wanted to be rid of him, and how he should thank Zhao for keeping him alive and fed, instead of tipping him overboard during a moonless night.

He had no place anywhere in this world.

“Can you breathe fire?”

Zuko burrowed his hand into the blanket. “I… Yes.”

“But you haven’t burned our ship down.”

Zuko blinked up at him. Should he have? He knew these people were fighting his nation. He briefly felt a flicker of something vaguely patriotic, deep inside him. But there was evil in every nation, he had seen that. He had been surrounded by death for years. He felt no desire to kill anyone for any purpose, not even for self preservation.

It seemed the leader was reluctant to kill him, though. But he had also claimed that he wouldn’t hurt Zuko, so what was there left to do?

“So if I take off the cuffs,” the leader said, “you will not burn the ship down?”

“Hakoda,” the other man in the room said. The man who had taken admiral Zhao down. His voice sounded half-way between a warning and a hesitation.

“If you do use fire. For anything.” Hakoda said. “My man will have permission to kill you on the spot. Understood?”

No, Zuko didn’t understand. He didn’t understand what the leader was getting at. Was he planning to undo his chains? For what? To have him walk around the boat aimlessly, a potential threat to his crew? “You… You really should just kill me.”

The corners of the leader’s mouth quirked up for a moment. But then his face went serious again. “I might,” he said. “I can’t promise that I won’t. I have to consider my options. While I do, you can either be chained up in the hold, or on deck to help my crew.

Zuko had never rigged a sail in his life. Zhao had kept him away from the rest of the crew as much as possible. He had spent the better half of two years inside Zhao’s cabin, organizing the man’s correspondence.

The two guards – Tamat and Natsuq, the leader had called them – re-entered the room. “It’s done.”

Zuko shivered. He had prayed for Zhao’s death so many times. But never thought about what would happen after. Still, knowing that the man was currently drowning in the waves, made his chest feel just a tiny bit less constricted.

“Keys,” Hakoda said, and one of them handed them over. Hakoda sat forward, and moments later Zuko’s cuffs fell to the floor.

Neither of the two guards seemed terribly surprised about it.

   >--<

Natsuq left him on deck with the rest of the crew, briefly instructing them, before moving back below deck. Zuko just stood there, blinking at the men who blinked back at him. Some looked wary, others curious.

“Have you worked on a ship before?” a man asked with one eyebrow raised. Zuko shook his head.

The man tsked. “Cleaning the deck, then,” he said. “Even a Hog Monkey could do that.”

And Zuko set to work, while the four men below deck apparently discussed his fate, even though it seemed to Zuko that there was nothing to be discussed.

   >--<

His fingers were blistering by the time Hakoda came to find him. “Dinner.” Hakoda said. “Come with me.”

Zuko followed him back to his cabin. Only one of the other men was there; the one who had bested admiral Zhao when the ship attacked.

“Food,” Hakoda said, pointing at a bowl full of soppy beans. “Eat.”

Zuko sat at the table, finding it hard to swallow the under the scrutiny of both men.

Hakoda sat opposite him. “Is there a safe place for you?” he asked. “Anywhere?”

“You really should just kill me,” Zuko said.

“Yes, Bato thinks so, too,” Hakoda said, jerking his head to the man beside him. “Answer my question. Is there any place where people would be willing to keep you safe?”

“From whom?”

“Your father, mainly. Who burned you, banished you and left a psychopath in charge of you.”

Zuko eyed him for a while, then went back to twirling his wooden spoon through his food. “I didn’t know people knew about that. None of Zhao’s crew did.”

“Yes, I imagine information is censured more strictly within the walls of your fire nation. Out here, though, rumors spread like wildfire.”

Zuko ducked his head as he considered that, and then wondered whether that meant his uncle Iroh had heard all about it, too, wherever he was.

Which led him to a new idea. “My uncle would keep me safe.”

“Where is he?”

Zuko kept his head ducked down and continued eating. Because for one, he didn’t really know. Iroh had talked to him before his exile, telling a tale of a hidden civilization, where dragons lived amongst people, surrounded by dense forests. It had been years, and Zuko could not remember the details. Even if he did figure out where it was, he had to consider the possibility that Hakoda was just wheedling for information. That this was the whole reason why he was being kept alive: to inadvertently betray his own uncle.

Hakoda didn’t say anything else until he had finished his meal.

“Back to work,” he then ordered.

   >--<

Hakoda asked him again the next day, over dinner. “Where is your uncle, Zuko?”

Zuko nibbled on his piece of bread and kept his head down. “You really should just kill me.”

“Back to work,” Hakoda said.

   >--<

Days passed. Weeks passed. Natsuq helped him make his own hammock. Taught him how to rig a sail. The crew laughed when the squid soup made him sick, but brought him water after he threw up over the side of the boat. They kicked him in the legs when he didn’t move out of the way quick enough, but patted him on the back when he repaired their fishing nets. Hakoda returned some of his previous possessions to him, that they had taken from his ship. Zuko kept them in a woven basket under his hammock. No one stole them and claimed them as their own, or tied them to the mast to taunt him.

No one beat him until he bled, or dipped their hands under his clothes, or crawled into his hammock at night.

“Where is your uncle, Zuko?” Hakoda asked, day after day after day.

“I don’t know,” Zuko eventually said, after maybe a month had passed. “Maybe if I… If I had a map.”

Hakoda handed over every map he had, and Zuko studied them. He studied them for hours, looking for an island shaped like a dragon’s head, the way his uncle had described it.

It felt pointless. Uncle Iroh had always been a romantic. He dramatized everything. Perhaps the actual island looked nothing like he had described it.

“Sleep,” Hakoda ordered when he returned and found Zuko with his forehead pressed against the table.

   >--<

“Try Zhao’s maps,” Hakoda said the next day, and laid them out. “I don’t understand fire nation cartography, but it stands to reason that you do.”

Zuko had never been allowed even a glance at these maps, much less to touch them, turn them, study them carefully.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” he asked as he trailed his fingers along the edges of the paper.

“I’m not sure,” Hakoda said. “I am a father.”

“I have a father.”

“No,” Hakoda said. “You have an uncle. And we’ve been sailing wherever fate took us for many years. Why not drop something off on the way?”

Zuko identified two islands, that were marked as ‘uninhabited’ on the fire nation’s maps, that looked maybe a little like dragon heads of you squinted and tilted your head.

“All right,” Hakoda said. “I’ll calculate our course.”

“He might not be there,” Zuko said, as much to temper his own expectations as Hakoda’s. “It’s a long shot.”

“Yes.”

“What if- What if we don’t find him?” he no longer told Hakoda to just kill him. He had stopped doing that since …he wasn’t how long ago.

“You could always become part of the crew.”

“How could I possibly—"

“Zuko,” Hakoda said. “You already are. You’ve been here for three months.”

Had it been that long? That meant he was sixteen, now.

“I don’t want to fight, sir.”

“Not all of our men fight.”

Zuko nodded. “Thank you, chief.” It wouldn’t be the sort of life he hoped for, still so surrounded by death. But despite the war being at the doorstep, he had found a peace on this ship he hadn’t found anywhere before, just doing mindless chores day after day after day, surrounded by nothing but waves.

   >--<

The first island was visible on the horizon from a long distance away. It was large, and tall mountains covered in luscious green towered towards the sky. Hakoda noticed Zuko turning to look towards it now and then, but then turning back to resume working.

“Does it look like how your uncle described?”

“Well, yes. But I don’t want to…” get my hopes up was left unsaid. Because ‘deserted island with mountains and dense forest’ was not exactly a unique description.

“Yes,” Hakoda said, all to aware that they might be chasing the end of a rainbow.

They sailed the ship into one of the bays where they dropped anchor. Hakoda left Bato in charge and ordered about half the crew into the smaller boats, and they paddled towards the sandy beach.

“Natsuq, you join Zuko and scout the forest,” he said. “Back before nightfall, of course.”

Natsuq nodded and they set off.

Hakoda stayed by the shore line, overseeing the rest of the work. They had to find fresh water supplies, chop down fire wood and harvest some fruit and hunt some animals. They found many strange berries that they didn’t entirely trust, but also a fig tree with a wide crown, that provided quite a few pieces of fruit.

Natsuq and Zuko returned at sunset. Natsuq shook his head.

“Search in the other direction tomorrow,” Hakoda instructed, squeezing Zuko’s shoulder. “Back to the ship, for the night.”

    >--<

They paddled back to the ship and climbed on board, then hauled their fresh supplies in.

Bato squeezed Zuko’s shoulder, too. “You’ll be okay, kid,” he said. “No matter what happens.”

Zuko just nodded silently, shoulders drooping.

Suddenly, something like a bolt of lightning briefly illuminated the entire bay. The crew whirled around. From the stretch of beach they had just vacated, a single column of fire shot straight up into the air before sizzling away. Only a small fire was left, glowing in the darkness. Silhouetted against it, a lone figure stood on the beach.

“It’s him,” Zuko breathed, gripping the railing. “It is. It is.”

“Caution,” Hakoda warned. Crew members around him looked more unsure than relieved.

“Just let me go. Let me go alone,” Zuko said. “I’ll swim if you want me to. It’s him, I know. Can I…?” He spread his fingers, in a way that seemed meaningful.

“All right.”

Zuko produced a ball of fire, letting it float slowly up into the air. Hakoda could see the tears glimmering in his eyes.

The fire on the beach changed shape, folding into a perfect sphere and floating upwards, as well.

“It’s him,” Zuko said, voice trembling. “Hakoda, please.”

“Ready a boat,” Hakoda ordered.

    >--<

Iroh didn’t look anywhere near as tall and commanding as Hakoda would have expected from the stories.

Zuko jumped off the boat, landing ankle-deep in water, and sloshed forward. Hakoda followed at a more measured pace.

“Uncle,” Zuko said, stumbling.

“It can’t be,” said Iroh. “I didn’t believe when the villagers said…”

Zuko collapsed into his arms, burying his face in the man’s beard.

“My boy. How in the name of Ran and Shaw…”

Iroh leaned back, holding Zuko’s face in his hands, running a thumb along the edge of the burn. “I heard what he did to you. I didn’t believe it.”

“Uncle…”

Iroh embraced him again, his touch somehow urgent but gentle at the same time, and Zuko choked out a sob.

“Who is your friend?” Iroh asked, eyes glittering as he took a measuring look at Hakoda, at his water tribe outfit and the dagger hanging from his belt.

“F-friend,” Zuko merely confirmed, gasping. But it seemed enough for Iroh to let down his guard, nodding at Hakoda.

“We plucked the boy of a fire nation ship,” Hakoda explained. “It seemed he might be better off here.”

He wouldn’t elaborate beyond that. The rest of the story was Zuko’s to tell.

    >--<

When morning came, Iroh led them, following a creek up towards the spring, dwindling through the forest. Zuko didn’t let go of Iroh’s arm the entire time.

The trees parted and Hakoda caught sight of the crumbling remains of what once must have been a lively civilization.

“Welcome,” Iroh said, “to the Sun Warrior’s ancient city. Welcome home.”

Hakoda cast a critical look around. “You can provide for the boy here?”

Iroh chuckled, stroking his beard. “The forest provides, and we work the land, chief Hakoda. Rest assured. I’m afraid my friends won’t want to come out and greet you. But you will see them later, Zuko. Two great friends of mine in particular are looking forward to meeting you.” He laid an arm around Zuko’s shoulders. “I have many things to show and teach you, child. At your own pace. Hidden away. Safe.”

“Safe,” Zuko echoed, a deep longing on his face. He turned to Hakoda and bowed deeply. “Thank you for everything, chief Hakoda. I hope to see you again.”

“The water tribe doesn’t do bowing,” Hakoda said, stepping forward and pulling Zuko into a warm embrace. “Good luck, son. Perhaps when the war is over, we might meet again.”

“Ah. The war may come to an end sooner than we had thought, chief Hakoda,” Iroh said. “I’ve been told by an old friend I used to play Pai Sho with.” He pointed towards a large cloud drifting overhead. “The avatar has returned.”