Chapter Text
Water. Earth. Fire. Air.
Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, could stop them, but when the world needed him most, he vanished.
A hundred years passed, and the Fire Nation was nearing victory in the war. Fire Lord Ozai continued his father's and grandfather's legacy, conquering territories and spreading the Fire Nation's influence across the world. The Air Nomads were wiped out. The Earth Kingdom was holding on by a thread. The Water Tribes were isolated and weakened.
Prince Zuko, son of Fire Lord Ozai, was banished from the Fire Nation after speaking out against a general's plan that would sacrifice new recruits. As punishment for this disrespect, his father scarred him in an Agni Kai and sent him away with one condition for his return: find and capture the Avatar, who had been missing for a century.
For three years, the sixteen-year-old prince searched tirelessly, accompanied by his uncle Iroh and a small crew. Among them was Mai, a nobleman's daughter skilled with throwing knives, who had joined the expedition six months ago. Her reasons were complex—officially, she was there as an emissary from her family, but in truth, she harbored feelings for the prince that dated back to their childhood.
But Prince Zuko had changed. Consumed by his quest for honor, he had little time for anything else—including the quiet girl who had once made him smile.
The southern seas were unforgiving this time of year. Massive icebergs drifted ominously through fog-laden waters, threatening to tear open the hull of any ship unlucky enough to cross their path. The metal Fire Nation vessel cut through the waters with determined persistence, black smoke billowing from its stack.
On the deck, Mai leaned against the railing, her dark robes fluttering in the bitter wind. Her face remained as impassive as ever, though her eyes narrowed slightly against the cold. Three years of wearing a mask of indifference had made it second nature to her.
“Land sighting!” called one of the crew members from the watchtower. “Possible Water Tribe settlements to the east!”
Mai sighed, her breath forming a small cloud in the cold air. Another day, another false lead. She doubted the Avatar was hiding in some tiny Water Tribe village, but Zuko was nothing if not thorough in his desperation.
The door to the bridge slammed open, and Prince Zuko emerged, his face set in its perpetual scowl, the scar tissue around his left eye pulling his features into an even grimmer expression.
“Ready a scouting party.” he ordered, not bothering to look at anyone in particular. “We'll investigate before bringing in the ship.”
“Prince Zuko.” came the calm voice of his uncle Iroh, following behind him with a steaming cup of tea in hand. “Perhaps we should consider stopping for supplies rather than frightening these villagers. Our stock of sea prunes is dangerously low.”
Zuko's good eye twitched. “I didn't come to the South Pole for a shopping trip, Uncle. I came to find the Avatar.”
Mai pushed herself away from the railing and approached them. “I'll go.” she said flatly. “Your face is too recognizable, and a full party will just alert them. They'll see the ship eventually, but I can at least get a look first.”
Zuko turned to her, seeming to notice her presence for the first time. His expression softened for just a moment before hardening again. “Fine. Take a small boat, but be back before sundown. And Mai—” he hesitated, “—be careful.”
She nodded, though inwardly, she was surprised by his concern. It was the most personal thing he'd said to her in weeks.
Hours later, Mai returned to report that the village was small, with no signs of the Avatar or any other unusual activity. Just women, children, and a few elderly people struggling to survive in the harsh environment.
“We should move on.” she suggested, hoping to save the villagers the terror of a Fire Nation raid.
Zuko paced the deck, his hands clasped behind his back. “No. We'll check it anyway. The Avatar could be disguised, or they could be hiding him.”
“Zuko, they're barely surviving as it is.” Mai said, a rare note of emotion coloring her usually monotone voice. “There's no Avatar there.”
He whirled on her, his golden eyes flashing. “You don't know that! And it's Prince Zuko to you. Don't forget your place.”
The words hit Mai like physical blows, but her face betrayed nothing. “Of course, Prince Zuko. Forgive my presumption.”
“Nephew.” Iroh began, but Zuko cut him off.
“Prepare the landing party. We move at dawn.” With that, he stormed off to his quarters.
Mai stood perfectly still until she was certain she was alone, save for Iroh, who regarded her with sympathetic eyes.
“He doesn't mean to be cruel.” the old general said gently. “His hunt for the Avatar—”
“Consumes him. I know.” Mai turned away. “Excuse me, General Iroh. I need some air.”
Later that night, when the ship was quiet save for the creaking of metal against the ice and the occasional snore of a sleeping crewman, Mai stood at the bow. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back stubbornly. She wouldn't cry. Not for him, not for anyone.
But in the privacy of her small cabin, with only the moon as witness through her porthole, Mai finally allowed herself the luxury of tears. Silent, dignified tears that slid down her pale cheeks as she thought of the boy she had known and the bitter young man he had become.
When she had cried herself out, Mai made a decision. She couldn't stay on this ship anymore, not with Zuko treating her like just another soldier under his command. She would leave a note for Iroh, take one of the small boats, and make her way back to the Fire Nation. Her parents would be disappointed, but they'd find another political alliance for her. Maybe Ty Lee's circus was still hiring.
Packing a small bag with essentials and all of her throwing knives—she wasn't stupid enough to go unarmed—Mai slipped out of her cabin and onto the deck. The night watch was easy enough to avoid; she hadn't spent years as Azula's friend without learning a thing or two about stealth.
She lowered a small boat into the water and rowed away from the ship, grateful for the mist that helped conceal her departure. The cold bit at her exposed skin, but Mai ignored it, focusing on putting as much distance between herself and the ship as possible.
The fog thickened as she rowed, and soon Mai realized she had lost her bearings. She couldn't see the stars to navigate, and the ship's lights had disappeared in the mist. Frustration bubbled up inside her, but she tamped it down. Panic wouldn't help her now.
Just as she was considering turning back, her boat struck something solid. The impact nearly threw her overboard, and she clutched the sides to steady herself. When she looked up, she found herself face to face with an enormous iceberg, glowing faintly from within.
“Great.” she muttered. “Just perfect.”
Mai was about to push away from the ice when something caught her eye. There was a figure inside the iceberg—no, two figures. One massive and curved, like some kind of animal, and the other smaller, human-shaped, sitting in a meditative pose.
Curiosity overcoming caution, Mai drew one of her knives and approached the ice. She tapped the blade against the glowing surface, and to her surprise, a crack formed. The crack spread rapidly, and before she could back away, the iceberg split open with a tremendous boom, releasing a column of light that shot straight into the sky.
Mai shielded her eyes, cursing under her breath. So much for a quiet getaway—that light was visible for miles. The ship would have seen it for sure.
When the light faded, Mai lowered her arm to find a young boy standing atop the broken iceberg. He couldn't have been more than twelve, with strange blue arrow tattoos on his head and hands. He swayed momentarily before collapsing.
Acting on instinct, Mai caught him before he could fall into the freezing water. He was lighter than she expected, and his clothing was unlike anything she had seen before—certainly not Water Tribe attire.
The boy's eyes fluttered open, revealing stormy gray irises. He smiled weakly.
“I need to ask you something.” he whispered.
Mai raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Please... come closer.”
She leaned in reluctantly.
His face suddenly brightened with an enormous grin. “Will you go penguin sledding with me?”
Mai stared at him, completely taken aback. “What?”
The boy bounded to his feet with surprising agility, all traces of weakness gone. “Penguin sledding! It's super fun. I'm Aang, by the way.” He looked around, seeming to notice his surroundings for the first time. “What's going on? Where am I?”
Mai's mind was racing. Arrows. Air Nomad clothing. A century-old disappearance. It couldn't be...
“You're the Avatar.” she said flatly.
Aang's smile faltered. “What? No, I'm just a regular airbender.”
“Airbender?” Mai stood up straighter. “The Air Nomads were wiped out a hundred years ago.”
“What are you talking about? That's impossible.” Aang looked genuinely confused.
Before Mai could respond, a low rumble came from within the remains of the iceberg, and a massive furry head emerged. The creature yawned, displaying rows of flat teeth before blinking sleepily at them.
“Appa!” Aang cried joyfully, airbending himself onto the beast's head in a single leap. “You're okay!”
Mai took an involuntary step back. “What is that thing?”
“This is Appa, my flying bison.” Aang said proudly, patting the creature's arrow-marked head.
“Right.” Mai said dryly. “And I'm a purple platypus-bear.”
Aang laughed. “You're funny! What's your name?”
“Mai.”
“Nice to meet you, Mai! Thanks for freeing us from that iceberg.”
Mai's thoughts raced. This child—this airbender—had to be the Avatar. The very person Zuko had spent years searching for. The key to his redemption and return home. All she had to do was signal the ship, and Zuko's quest would be over.
She fingered one of her knives, considering. One signal flare, and Zuko would come running. He might even be grateful. He might finally see her.
But then she remembered his cold words, the way he had dismissed her, the tears she had shed alone in her cabin. Did she really want to help him? Did he deserve it?
Aang was watching her curiously, his innocent gray eyes wide and trusting. He had no idea about the war, about the genocide of his people, about the danger he was in.
Mai sighed deeply. “Look, kid—Aang. There's a lot you don't know, and we shouldn't stay here. There's a Fire Nation ship nearby, and they're looking for... well, for you, actually.”
Aang tilted his head. “The Fire Nation? Why would they be looking for me?”
“It's complicated.” Mai said, making a decision she hoped she wouldn't regret. “But I think we should get out of here before they find us.”
“Okay, hop on!” Aang patted Appa's saddle. “Appa can take us wherever we need to go.”
Mai eyed the bison skeptically. “You said it flies?”
“Sure does! Appa, yip yip!”
The bison groaned and heaved himself into the water, beginning to swim rather than fly.
“Wow. Impressive.” Mai deadpanned.
Aang laughed. “He's just tired. He'll be flying in no time, you'll see!”
As they drifted away from the broken iceberg, Mai glanced back at the abandoned rowboat. There was no going back now. She had just betrayed her nation, her family, and whatever complicated feelings she had for Zuko. All for a strange boy with arrow tattoos and a supposedly flying bison.
“So, Mai.” Aang said brightly, apparently oblivious to her inner turmoil, “if penguin sledding is out, what do you like to do for fun?”
Mai leaned back against the saddle and stared up at the stars that were now visible through the thinning mist. “I throw knives at things.”
“Cool! Can you teach me?”
Despite herself, the corner of Mai's mouth twitched upward. “Maybe. If you behave.”
As Appa swam through the icy waters, carrying them away from the Fire Nation ship and towards an uncertain future, Mai wondered if she had made the biggest mistake of her life or the best decision she'd ever made.
Little did she know, it was both.