Chapter Text
Sokka killed twelve people the first time he used his bending. A month before the long dark of winter, as the sun rose, flames engulfed the group of sealskin tents farthest from the gates. Chief Hakoda, weary from a long night atop the village walls, did not return in time to save everyone.
In a blackened spirit circle, his six-year-old son lay unharmed next to the now charred corpse of his aunt, Hakoda’s sister Narro. The boy stared blankly up into the sky, his deep blue eyes glowing with an inner flame.
The Patola Mountain Range could barely been seen upon the horizon when Ensign Toro stifled a yawn. The Fire Nation destroyer Glory Upon Flame did not inspire a new officer’s hope for a shining career. Early morning on the South Sea at the end of an overnight shift was the punishment Toro did not know if he truly deserved.
There hadn’t been any action seen on the south side of the Patolas in a half a dozen years. Or was it seven years?
Toro shrugged to himself. It didn’t matter either way. The Southerners had been quiet since then. Still, the Admiralty had to have its presence across the globe.
Glancing up at the setting moon then towards the east, Toro thought he saw a sliver of change in the deep of night. Once that sun started creeping over the horizon, the senior officers would begin waking. Such was the privilege of rank, to rise with Agni. The small amount of tea he’d consumed during the night did little to fight the natural urge to set one’s schedule to the great sun. Toro brooded on the fact that he was the only Firebender on the ship to have to fight against his body’s proclivity to rise with the dawn.
In a quick moment, the eastern horizon lightened - the prelude to sunrise. The reflections of the moon upon the ship shifted, and a reflection upon the water blinded Toro for a brief moment. With the rising and falling of the waves, Toro saw the reflection again and again.
Stifling another yawn, Toro almost lazily disconnected his telescope from his belt. In the shifting predawn seas, the Ensign steadied his footing, focusing for the light.
And Toro found what he was looking for: a small skiff - big enough for maybe two or three people.
“Lieutenant! Skiff spotted - starboard side, two hundred yards! Request confirmation,” Toro yelled towards the command tower.
The lieutenant on duty, on one of the balconies off the bridge, startled to attention and did as requested. The man yelled: “Skiff confirmed! It doesn’t look like it has military riggin’, and I don’t see anyone aboard. Let’s bring it in! See if there’s anythin’ interestin’ onboard.”
The ship slowed to a halt, the Southern Sea’s currents minimal. The faint breeze guided the small skiff directly towards the destroyer.
Toro’s body tensed once the skiff was abreast and he saw what was onboard - or rather who. It was a boy, dressed in ragged blues and grays. Several other sailors had been called over, and the boy was soon deposited on the deck.
“Hmm, where am I,” the boy mumbled, barely moving. He couldn’t have been older than Toro’s niece - six maybe? His ragged clothes looked several sized to big. Dark brown hair was frayed.
Then the boy opened his eyes, and Toro saw a faint glow behind the intense blue. Pangs of jealousy erupted in Toro’s chest. This boy, this child, was a Son of Agni. He was the closest kin the Royal Family had just by the Fire’s will in his veins, and the glow in his eyes. To be fawned over and praised to no end. He wondered which Noble would be lucky enough to claim him as their own.
He hoped the messenger hawk traveled quickly. The boy needed training before he accidentally killed anyone on the ship. And Toro knew that just as all of these non-benders were beneath him, he was beneath this washed-up boy.
And so he pushed the jealousy aside as he kneeled before the boy. “You are on the destroyer Glory Upon Flame, Son of Agni.”
The proclamation of the boy’s status barely left his lips before there were sudden gasps, and the rest of the crew on deck followed Toro’s example.
“Oh.” The boy took a confused look around the deck. Then as suddenly as he had woken up, he passed out.
“‘Oh’ indeed,” Toro muttered. Louder, he continued: “Wake the Captain. Someone’s about to take over his cabin.”
General Iroh slowly paced around the large map of the world within the palace’s throne room. Different pieces of wood, shaped and painted in various colors, were dotted around the world - representing everything from cities to forts to army camps. Colonies had been shorn up in the western Earth Kingdom. Silence filled the various Air Nomad Temples. The Northern Water Tribe was in isolation. It’s Southern counterpart hadn’t been touched in almost seven years.
At the very end of the room, Fire Lord Azulon watched his son circle around the map. The surrounding fire raised and lowered with the Fire Lord’s calm breaths. Various other Generals and attendants watched from the edges of the throne room. Anticipation for the Crown Princes’s judgement of the war efforts grew.
Out of the corner of his eye, Azulon saw a royal messenger slip in through a side door. Said messenger assessed the room, and unobtrusively moved to the far left corner of the Fire Lord’s platform. He patiently waited in silence, but stood in a way that the black-sealed letter would catch Azulon’s eye.
The Fire Lord couldn’t help but smile. Someone had trained this messenger well. Too many felt the burden of carrying such important information and wanted to proclaim it’s message as quickly as possible - just to be rid of it.
Iroh spoke, his voice cut with an inner fire. And once his proclamation ended, the Fire Nation burst into action.
As the attendants and generals rushed to carry out his orders, Iroh slowly made his way towards his father. Seeing the messenger, he held out his hand. The attendant steadily approached, knelt down on one knee, and presented the message.
After the messenger was dismissed, Iroh silently read the message. Azulon watched as his son’s eyes, glowing with his inner Fire, widened with excitement.
“My lord Father,” Iroh started, his voice jovial, “Our ship the Glory Upon Flame has secured an abandoned Son of Agni! The boy was floating adrift in the Southern Sea between Patola Mountains and the South Pole.”
Azulon shared his son’s enthusiasm, though only let a corner of his mouth rise slightly to show it. “Just a boy, hmm?”
“Yes, Lord Father. The captain estimates the boy to be six, maybe seven. Apparently, he is clearly Water Tribe. He was found almost starved and alone on a skiff just south of the mountains. It would have taken him at least a week of drifting to make it that far.”
The Fire Lord considered the information. The boy was of an age with his younger two grandchildren.
“He would have been born shortly after the most recent raid on the South Pole,” Azulon said.
“Indeed,” Iroh responded, his tone showing he reached the same conclusion as his Father.
Azulon tapped his left pointer finger on his arm rest as he pondered the situation. The Commander of that raid had been killed in action several years ago. He doubted that the potential father knew of the boy. A Son of Agni was rare indeed.
“You ordered the raid, my son,” Azulon concluded. “Confirm that he is truly a Son of Agni. If so, you may take the boy as your own. He shall be a part of the Royal House. And if does well, we shall see if he worthy to be in the line of succession.”
Excitement flared in Iroh’s eyes. “At once, Father.”