Author's Note: Hello, patrons of Fanfiction . net. Welcome to this little fic of mine, which is narrated by a debatably OOC Zuko who both listens to his uncle's advice and tries to think like Azula. Featuring other familiar characters such as childlike Aang, resentful Katara, overprotective and slightly narcissistic Sokka, and wise Uncle Iroh, the plot requires that you, the reader, divert back to your very earliest understandings of these beloved characters; imagine them as they were in the very first episode, as that is where our story begins…

Uncle had one last piece of advice for me before I walked off the ship. His breath was visible haze in the frigid South Pole air, and I tried to read his lips as the crunching of the icy shore under the prow of my ship drowned out his subdued voice.

"Prince Zuko," he cautioned me, "There is little to be gained by making enemies. People do not tend to cooperate when you give them reason to hate you. Mind your temper."

"Very well, Uncle," I replied shortly as I considered that. As much as I had little patience for the old man's pacifism, I recognized that the former general had a point. As a teenager pitted against an ancient Avatar, I was inherently at a disadvantage; it would be to my benefit to win him with words, convincing him aboard my ship, where I could either have him ambushed and taken captive or simply escort him to the Fire Nation capital on pretenses of diplomacy. Even at this stage of progression of the war, it was still perfectly plausible that a power with a yet undeclared allegiance might be invited into discussions with one side or the other. I would spin it as his honor that the crown prince of the Fire Nation would come halfway around the world to collect him—we in the Fire Nation held the Avatar in such high esteem.

These thoughts were finishing as I, with purpose and dignity in my stride befitting the importance of my nearly accomplished mission, descended from my ship flanked by armored men. Before I had even set foot on their ice, a painted Water Tribe savage charged me with some sort of laughable club, screaming wordlessly.

Sadly, it appeared as if they did not wish to be friends.

When the boy reached me, I quickly knocked his weapon out of his hand and sent him flying in the other direction to land head first in a heap of snow. I immediately turned to meet my next attacker. There was not one.

The Southern Water Tribe was a tiny village; after a quick count, I saw that it was made up of about two dozen persons. All, except for the painted boy still extracting himself from the snow, were women or young children. There would be no attack from these people who knew they could not stand against even the downtrodden crew of my small retired warship.

I straightened and continued my walk. My guard was not down—I still knew that the Avatar was somewhere near. I stopped right in front of the cluster of cowering civilians. There was a pleasure in knowing that I caused them fear; it gave me a measure of control over them, and control was necessary to this particular negotiation on which rode my own fate and honor.

"Where is he?" I asked, menace in my voice; I was playing up the fear, asserting my dominance so that not even the oldest stubborn crone or the most insolent toddler would dare elicit my anger. I could almost hear Uncle cautioning me to be careful now.

I was met with blank stares of incomprehension mixed with distrust. I silently applauded their performance, for I already knew that they had to be hiding the Avatar. He was none of these people—of that, even a cursory glance would confirm—and nowhere in sight. I figured that it was not truly necessary that I remain in the villagers' good graces so long as I did them no actual harm, to which the Avatar would be able to object.

My hand darted out like the sudden strike of a snake as I seized a very elderly woman by her arm, pulling her out of the grip of the girl clinging to her. "He'd be about this age," I pressed, allowing somewhat exaggerated impatience leak into my clipped tone. "Master of all the elements?"

They continue in their staring at me, silent except for the worrying of little children to their mothers, who held them close as if afraid I would snatch them too. I roughly returned the old woman to the girl's arms; as I did so, I saw relief and…and…hatred…mingle in an odd combination in her too blue eyes. I held her stare for a moment too long before my eyes moved on to the next peasant and the next. Now I could feel her glare attempting to bore holes into my armor.

I had to admit at this point that the villagers may not actually know where the Avatar was currently located. I knew only one person able to lie so effectively through only their silence, and if the Southern Water Tribe had been filled with twenty Azula-caliber liars, they would have achieved world domination long ago. Thus I concluded the blank stares were not lies but genuine ignorance. This worried me; they did not even seem to know of which individual I spoke, as none had noticeably responded to my description other than to cringe as I lay hands on the old woman.

Still, I was nothing if not thorough. I had been at sea for three years hunting, and I would not leave the possibility of the Avatar sitting here at the bottom of the earth and be on my merry way. I allowed myself one more chance to scare a hint of truth out of them before switching tactics.

"I know you are hiding him!" I all but roared, sending a wave of oppressive heat and brilliant flames right over the heads of the crowd. That elicited shrieks from the women and scared outcries from their children.

From behind me, I heard a loud, drawn out cry as the painted boy, who had lost most of his paint but retrieved his weapon, charged me again. I was astounded by the level of idiocy exhibited in announcing what may have succeeded as a stealth attack to the opponent. I easily dodged his attack and used his momentum to send him flying past me. To teach a lesson, even though I knew the dull savage would not understand it as such, I sent a bolt of fire chasing after him, purposefully aiming to miss. He rolled out of the way anyway and hurled a bent projectile at my head with surprising speed. I still dodged it.

A little urchin in the watching crowd had somehow given his mother the slip, as no woman in her right mind would have allowed him to toss a crude spear to the painted boy and shout at the extent of his high voice, "Show no fear!"

The painted boy apparently had no mother either, as no sensible woman rushed out of the crowd or cried out to him not to attack me again, which he did with tremendous show of bravery and foolishness. I brought my hand slicing upwards, shearing off the head of the spear with my metal wristguard. Purely for my own amusement, I continued in the same fashion down the spear; the savage's half-painted face was memorable and hilarious, although I never had been one to laugh out loud during combat. Even this counted as combat, I supposed.

I grabbed the remaining shaft of the spear out of the boy's hands and poked him firmly in the forehead with it a few times. He fell down, and I nonchalantly snapped the shaft and dropped the pieces on the icy ground. I owned this situation.

That is when my perfect, sweet control suddenly decided that it had become bored, and promptly left me.

From the ground, the boy stared up at me. I realized that his gaze was not on me but on the sky over my left shoulder just before something hard collided at a very high speed with the back of my helmet. I stumbled forward, surprised and off-balance, and my helmet shifted around my head until I was peering through my one good eye past the opposite side edge of my face mask.

The painted boy sniggered.

Glowering at him, I reached up one hand to right my helmet. Flames danced around my clenched fists as I towered over him. I had not yet decided whether or not to strike him down when I was abruptly swept off my feet by a colorfully clothed child riding a speeding penguin.

I had never claimed to know what forces governed the events of my life, but in that moment I felt as though they derived some extreme pleasure from constantly infuriating me.

The children in the crowd were cheering the new arrival as I jumped to my feet. I briefly caught sight of the Water Tribe girl, whose expression had transformed completely. Her glare of hatred forsaken, her eyes had lit as though she gazed upon her idol. I too turned to look at this pesky 'idol'.

He was an odd sight, unlike any person I had seen before, considerable in light of my global travels. The boy was a few years younger than me; I guessed his age to be eleven, possibly twelve, to my sixteen. He was completely bald, but there was a distinctive blue arrow tattooed over the dome of his head, the point in the middle of his forehead. His skin was much lighter than that of the tribespeople; that and his eccentric yellow-orange clothes assured me that he was not Water Tribe. He regarded me with guarded gray eyes as he moved the ornate wooden staff in his hands to point at me.

"Looking for me?" The boy-child's face was almost expressionless.

Mine was almost incredulous.

"You're the airbender?" I practically spluttered, not really able to reconcile the notion with my preconceived expectations. "You're the Avatar?"

"Aang?" the Water Tribe girl gasped—she apparently was not aware of her idol's identity.

"No way," the painted boy deadpanned from his position on the ground. I had been right—the villagers had been truly ignorant.

There was so much I could have said in that moment; a million different scenarios had played out in my mind over the last three years, but I was so startled and disbelieving that all I could say was, "How is this possible? You are just a child. The Avatar must be over a hundred years old by now."

"I," Aang began, his tone more questioning than explanatory, "I am the Avatar. I'm that Avatar, who's over a hundred years old. I've been frozen in an iceberg for the last hundred years. Katara and Sokka"—he gestured to the girl and the painted boy—"accidentally found me a couple days ago. I…haven't been home in over a hundred years." He looked very unsettled at that thought.

My mind, which had been stuck in confusion a moment ago, now flew through dozens of possibilities. I came to the following realizations.

The Avatar was just a little kid—untrained, uncertain, alone, and most likely afraid.

If he had been out of the world for the last century, he didn't know about the war, or at least not much, considering he had only been with the tribe for a couple days.

The Avatar could not have learned enough to form a strong position against the Fire Nation.

The Avatar did not automatically regard me as his enemy.

There is little to be gained by making enemies. Ah, Uncle.

Channeling, as best I could, my inner Azula, I spoke, "Amazing. I would never have dreamed that this is where you've been. I have long awaited the day when I would finally get to meet you, Avatar." Internally gritting my teeth, I offered the child a respectful bow. This caused a murmur to go through the watching crowd and through my guards—it was not surprising that I had gotten stuck with a load of undisciplined idiots for a crew.

Out of courtesy, instinct, or habit, the boy returned the bow and the greeting. "But who are you?" he tacked on at the end.

"My name is Zuko," I said in what I intended to be a nonthreatening manner. "I am the crown prince of the Fire Nation and heir to the throne. I have long sought out the Avatar in hopes of renewing the diplomatic relations that once existed between my forefathers and your past incarnations. To that end, I wish to extend to you an invitation to join me on my ship for tea and discuss the possibility of your appearance before the Fire Nation court."

"What?" the painted boy—Sokka—interrupted loudly. "No way is he going anywhere with you! You're the enemy!"

"I assure you," I said sweetly, "that I mean you and your village no harm. Our ship is not deployed to war—we do not come looking for conflict. It was you who initiated violence between us."

I could tell that I had Aang at least halfway over to my side. It was fun, being the manipulator rather than the manipulated.

The girl, Katara, had glided over to Aang's side and was leaning down to whisper something in his ear. Her glare had returned in all of its former ferocity, but Aang did not turn to examine her face. He seemed to ask her a question in an undertone, and she instantly looked frustrated. She made one final statement to the Avatar before standing up straight and crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes like lightning as they drilled into me.

Aang again bowed. "I would be honored to accept your invitation." His face broke out in a smile as an idea seemed to occur to him. "Can Katara come too?" His excitement was palpable.

Katara's glare faltered under her surprise, and I met her temporarily unguarded eyes as I slowly replied, "I fear Katara might be bored by all our talk of politics. If Katara would like to come, however, she is welcome aboard my ship."

"Great!" crowed Aang.

"If you would be so kind," Katara hissed, "as to give us a little while to resettle the village after this little disaster, we would gladly join you for tea." The glare was back again. She had better cut it out, or that expression might become stuck on her face.

"Of course," I answered with the veiled falseness of a future politician. "In an hour, then?"

"Sure," said Aang, still smiling.

Author's Note: A friendly reminder to review, s'il vous plait, and let me know: (1) Did you like it? (2) Too long/too short for one chapter? (3) Any errors that make me look like a bad writer? (4) Is Zuko—or anyone else, for that matter—out of character? (5) Is this worth continuing?

Thanks for reading! :D