This started out as a fun quick project. Then my idea garden overgrew its boundaries and this "chapter" grew into a monster worthy of the Swamp.

This begins at the end of 103 ASC (After Sozin's Comet), so everyone is three years older than they were at the end of the show. Sozin's Comet didn't return 100 years after the Air Nomad Genocide. No sign of Avatar.

The banished prince huffed and watched his icy breath linger in front of his face as the ship chugged closer to the Southern Water Tribe village. If you could even call this mess a village, Zuko thought to himself. The ramshackle collection of a dozen or so ice huts and skin-covered tents was less than impressive.

He ducked his face inside of his breastplate when a blast of wind whipped around and crossed his arms, trying not to shiver. His armor offered little more than a windbreak, even with a heavy coat layered underneath.

He barely acknowledged Uncle Iroh when he came to join him, nodding grimly. "Prince Zuko, I think you made a wise choice," Iroh slowly set his hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Water is still leaking in through the damaged plate much faster than they can bail or pump out. I don't like to think where we would be if you hadn't given the order to find port when you did."

Zuko held the bridge of his nose and exhaled. This backwater camp wasn't what he had in mind when he thought "port." At this rate, though, they would be lucky not to sink the ship in harbor. "Thank you, uncle," he said. "I'm just tired."

He wasn't lying. He hadn't slept more than an hour in the two days since their ship had gotten caught in a late winter squall while trying to make a wide loop around Whale Tale Island. He was tired and also apprehensive about asking foreigners for aid.

If only Zhao would stop running into them and pressing more of the crew into active duty. Zuko was already the youngest man onboard by several decades, and many of the men should have been allowed back home by then.

He should have been allowed back home by then.

Iroh handed him a steaming mug of tea. Zuko bowed his head in respect as he took it. Even Uncle's tea was a welcome respite from the shame that Zuko was going to experience shortly.

The crew was ragged and bone-tired. Even younger men would have been drained from standing knee-deep in Antarctic waters, bailing it out of the hold and fixing pumps. As it was, they could not risk any aggression from the Southern Water Tribe.

Zuko had ordered a white flag be stitched together from old linens, and now that dingy sign of weakness fluttered limply at the bow. It seemed to have worked. Now they were close enough for sounds from the village to filter across the water, and he heard no clanging of armor or sharpening of blades. There were just a few cries of children, and shouts of laughter.

There were no war ships in the harbor; a few canoes that did not look sea-worthy rested upside down on shore. Two figures stood at the end of the ice dock, clothed in blue with fur-lined hoods obscuring their faces. He couldn't make out their ages or genders, and could only hope they would not turn them away.

They lowered the ramp, and Zuko cringed at the clanging noise it made as it bit into the ice below. He focused on his breath, trying to squelch his nerves. The two greeters didn't seem to be heavily armed; no spears or swords were drawn, though one had a boomerang at his hip and the other a small knife. He made his way down the ramp with Iroh behind him. He eyed the fur parkas of his greeting committee with longing.

He didn't know what he would find if he did – would they hate him for his nationality and the history of his people? Would they even give him a chance, or would they stain the dock red with his blood?

He bowed deeply, hands clenched in fists at his side. He internally counted to three and straightened, looking at his greeting committee. The first thing that struck him was that they were not going to bow back. He swallowed that initial urge to comment on their disrespect for the prince of the Fire Nation, and watched them.

The two teens – they couldn't have been any older than he –inspected him. The taller, the boy with a boomerang on his hip, looked at him with a relaxed, open look of curiosity. He nodded his head politely.

The girl, on the other hand, regarded him through narrow suspicious eyes that were the same shade of blue as the icebergs his ship had dodged. When they locked eyes, her attention shifted to his scar and Zuko's nails dug into the wrappings on his hands.

Zuko swallowed. "Our ship needs repairs," his throat was dry and speaking difficult. "We would appreciate safe harbor while we make repairs." He looked them directly in the eye. Iroh cleared his throat behind him. Zuko flicked his eyes toward him. "Please," he added.

The boy's eyebrows flew up and the girl crossed her arms as they looked at one another, gesturing with their eyebrows. The silence didn't last more than half a minute, but Zuko sighed with relief when the boy finally spoke.

"Why don't you come to speak with our grandmother?" he asked. The woman grimaced and scrunched her nose in disgust. The boy looked at her and just shrugged as if to say what do you want me to do?

The girl threw her arms out in defeat and twirled on her heel. "You lead them, Sokka," she called back over her shoulder. "I guess I'll be expected to get some food together for our guests."

The two young men inspected each other. Sokka eyed Zuko's armor, but relaxed slightly when he noticed the lack of weapons at his hip. Zuko hadn't really met anyone his own age in years, and shifted his weight from foot to foot. Uncle Iroh coughed out the word "introduction," behind him.

Zuko blinked. Right. "Thank you for your hospitality," he stood straighter and brought his chin up. "I am – I am Zuko, and this my Uncle Iroh," he paused momentarily and decided in a split second to avoid bringing up their ties to the royal line. The last thing he needed was to become a useless hostage because of who his father was. With his luck, Zhao would steam in to take the rest of his crew and leave him behind. He doubted a royal title meant much in this frozen wasteland, even for their own people.

He followed the young man through the village. A few small children peeked out though doorways, but were quickly pulled back or shooed away by their mothers. Zuko snorted. They acted like he was the Big Bad Dragon, without realizing what a pathetic situation he really was in.

They stopped at a larger hut in the center of the village. The outside was smooth, as though new snow was packed into cracks regularly and refrozen. He ducked through the small doorway, relieved when Iroh was able to follow without issue.

A fire roared in a stone-lined oven at the opposite end of the room, and woven mats of grass and animal pelts covered the interior walls. There were three curtains that Zuko assumed led to other rooms. The wooden shelves held a few items: dishes, three books, and a few baskets. Various bone swords and club-like tools were mounted on the walls. The young woman used a mitt to remove a water kettle from the fire and set it on a tray on the hearth. She glared daggers at Zuko when he met her eye.

An old woman, face wrinkled from the dry air and harsh climate, sat on the bench nearest the hearth. She did not stand to greet them or smiled at them. Zuko bowed again, and saw Iroh doing the same from the corner of his eye.

"You must understand why we would rather you take shelter elsewhere," the woman started. Zuko flinched but held his bow. "But that is not the Southern Water Tribe way." She said the words with distaste, mouth puckered as though she had swallowed a particularly tart lychee nut.

Zuko looked up in surprise. "Th-thank you," he stuttered.

The woman motioned to the other benches lining the walls. "Please sit."

More introductions were made while the young man – Sokka, and his sister Katara scooted benches around, giving Iroh the other spot closest to the fire. Sokka sat next to Kanna, while Katara grumpily took the seat next to Zuko after serving drinks and a flat bread. The tea was nothing Zuko had seen before – there were large leaves floating in the ceramic cup, and a thick straw leaned against the edge. He followed their lead in drinking the tea through the straw. His mouth puckered from the strong, earthy bitter taste.

Zuko let Iroh relay their troubles while he ran his fingers over the swirls etched into his mug. The glaze on the ceramic was smooth and cool. Iroh spoke of the storm, how Zuko had made the decision to seek port. Katara and Sokka shared a questioning look at the information that Zuko was in charge. He sipped at his tea, slurping loudly when the liquid ran out. Katara bent and refilled his cup with steaming hot water.

"What are you doing this far south?" Katara blurted when their story was complete.

Zuko looked at Iroh, who widened his eyes. "Well, I'm on a bit of a mission?" Zuko ventured, not sure how much detail to give.

Katara's eyes narrowed and she ground her teeth. "What sort of mission?" she demanded. "We've dealt with plenty of firebenders on missions before."

Kanna shot her granddaughter a look, but did not save Zuko from answering.

Zuko scratched at his neck. He wished she were sitting on his other side, instead of looking directly at his scar. He looked to Iroh, who sipped at his tea slowly. He looked at the three water tribe leaders. "I'm looking for the Avatar," he finally admitted.

Katara crossed her arms and leaned right shoulder against the wall, facing him. "The Avatar has been lost for the past hundred years. Everyone knows that."

"I know," Zuko snapped back, turning to face her completely. "I didn't exactly request this mission."

Katara cocked one eyebrow and studied his face, looking from his good side to his scar and back. Iroh cleared his throat.

"There is one other issue," he started. "Our ship has taken on a great deal of water. Can we request help in plugging the leak temporarily so that our crew and we may stay on board? We do not want to impose anymore."

Kanna nodded. "Sokka and Katara will look at it with you. Perhaps they can figure something out."

Katara shot Zuko another glare, but did not disagree with her grandmother.

Sokka rubbed his hands together in excitement and began asking questions about the leak as he and Katara put their parkas back on and led them out of the hut. As Iroh and Sokka talked about materials and possible plans, Zuko was struck with the realization that they were at the Southern Water Tribe.

"Do you have any waterbenders who could help us?" he asked. "Bail the water out and maybe ice over the leak for now?"

Sokka looked at Katara, eyebrows raised. Katara turned on Zuko.

"No, there are no waterbenders left here," she spat. "The Fire Nation took them all away."

Zuko stepped back at her vehemence. "What are you talking about? The Southern Water Tribe nearly destroyed the Southern fleet sixty years ago!" If he knew one thing, it was military history. He looked to his uncle for backup. Iroh shook his head sadly instead.

"I apologize for my nephew," he said slowly. "Fire Nation history texts tend to emphasize some facts with complete disregard for others."

Iroh rarely corrected him like this in front of strangers, and he suddenly felt very lonely. His face grew warm. "It was just an idea," he mumbled.

Katara stomped her foot, the force leaving a small crater in the ice. "Well maybe you should have thought of that before you took all of the waterbenders away."

Sokka grabbed his sister's arm and put his other hand on her shoulder. Katara relaxed slightly and seemed willing to back down. Zuko suddenly thought of his own sister, and wondered if he would ever see her again.

"We have some pitch and straw mats we can use," Sokka said diplomatically. "Katara, will you go grab them from the kayak shed?"

Katara shrugged her brother off and stomped away to the kayak shed. Zuko watched her go, fists clenched at her sides. She left perfectly crisp footprints in the crunchy snow.

Zuko sighed and followed Sokka and his uncle back to the ship, hoping they would find a more permanent solution for their ship before what little welcome they had received from the Southern Water Tribe wore off completely.

Inspirations for this fic:
"Call Me Katto" - ShamelessLiar (one tiny question I had while reading it kicked this off)
"Wild, Wild Love" - Kangaroo2010 (hello world-building)

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