Aric leaned against the ship's railing, staring at the letter in his hands with amusement and frustration. The parchment smelled like smoke, and the ink was precise and elegant—very Azula.
"You may have escaped, but this isn't over. You owe me, Aric. And I always collect my debts. ~ Azula" Aric read it out loud. He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Cheating, backstabbing, manipulation... and somehow, I'm the one who owes her? Unbelievable." He crumpled the note and flicked it into the ocean, watching as the waves swallowed the message.
The Fire Nation capital was a distant ember now, its golden rooftops and towering walls fading beyond the horizon. He had done it—escaped one of the most dangerous places in the world. Yet, somehow, he knew this wouldn't be the last time he crossed paths with the princess. Azula didn't lose. She regrouped. She plotted. And if she said she'd collect her debts, she damn well meant it. Aric sighed, running a hand through his windswept hair. "Well, at least I'm not locked in a dungeon or being forced into royal service. Small victories."
A creak echoed from the deck. His eyes narrowed. Right. He had stolen this ship. And there was still a small problem—its crew. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!" Aric turned slowly to see a dozen Fire Nation sailors standing on the deck, weapons at the ready. A couple of firebenders already had flames ignited in their palms, ready to roast him.
He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, let's all just take a deep breath here–" One of the officers lunged forward, swinging a flaming fist at his head. Aric sidestepped effortlessly, tripping the man with a well-placed kick. The officer went down with a grunt.
"So, we're not talking it out. Cool, cool."
The next sailor hurled a fireball. Aric ducked, feeling the heat scorch past his cheek. He twisted, channeling fire through his hands, and sent a controlled burst toward the mast. The impact sent sparks flying, startling the crew just long enough for him to make his move. Flipping over the nearest sailor, Aric landed on a crate, and Jack Sparrowed his way across the deck—arms flailing, running like a madman, dodging attacks in the most chaotic way possible. One sailor tried to grab him—Aric ducked. Another swung a staff—he accidentally tripped into them, sending both sprawling across the deck. "He's not even fighting properly!" one of them shouted in disbelief.
Aric grinned as he vaulted over the ship's wheel. "Oh, I'm fighting perfectly—for me!" With a quick ignition of flames beneath his feet, he propelled himself up the mast, perching like some deranged sea bird. The crew hesitated, looking up at him.
Aric smirked. "Now, listen. I know this whole 'pirate' thing is sudden, but let's be real—you guys don't want to fight me. I could burn this whole ship down, and none of us want that, do we?" He waggled his fingers, small embers dancing in his palm. "So, how about this? You all take a nice little swim back to shore, and I get to keep this ship. Sound good?"
A tense silence followed. Then, the officer he had tripped earlier got back up, glaring. "You do realize we're in the middle of the ocean, right?"
Aric blinked. "Huh. Didn't think that one through."
The officer grinned. "Exactly. So you—" Aric jumped off the mast, and with a swift movement, he combustion his hand and threw him with a resounding explosion that sent waves across the water. The poor man screamed as he was sent like a rocket into the fire kingdom, hitting a wall by smashing it with his firebending. The rest of the crew froze. "Who is next?" Aric asked, cracking his knuckles.
Silence. One by one, the sailors began jumping into the water themselves. Aric dusted off his hands. "See? That's the spirit. Swim safe!" As the last sailor splashed into the sea, he leaned against the wheel and stretched. "Ah, what a productive day. Now, off to the Northern Water Tribe."
The journey north was uneventful. Well—relatively. The ship's food reserves were surprisingly well-stocked, and for once, he didn't have to hunt for food like some feral animal. The biggest struggle was navigation. Fire Nation ships were not meant for solo sailing, and the last thing he needed was to drift aimlessly until he ended up in some random Earth Kingdom fishing village.
Thankfully, after some trial and error (and a few minor course corrections that didn't involve him setting part of the sail on fire), he got the hang of it. As the days passed, the temperature began to drop. The waters grew darker, colder. Icebergs loomed in the distance, signaling his approach to the Northern Water Tribe. Aric grineed. "Welcome back to the northern sea," He said to no one in general.
As soon as Aric set foot on the icy shores, a dozen Northern Water Tribe warriors surrounded him, their staves raised and water coiling menacingly around their arms. "State your business, Fire Nation scum!" one of them barked. Aric held up his hands, exasperated. "Okay, first of all, rude. Second, I'm a friend of the Avatar." That didn't convince them because the next thing he knew, an entire battalion of waterbenders was attacking him.
Sighing, he cracked his knuckles. 'Why does every first meeting end in a fight?' He thought as he effortlessly moved himself between the water attacks before summoning black flames from naruto. "Let me introduce you to Amaterasu," Aric said as he burned their waters before punching one in the face while doing some basic hand-to-hand combat, taking on foe on top of foe.
Within minutes, warriors were flying through the air, ice shattering under the force of his fire, and the once-calm docks had turned into a full-on battlefield. Meanwhile, deep within the city, Aang and his friends were in the middle of their training when a scout ran up, breathless. "We're under attack!" Without hesitation, they rushed to the scene—only to skid to a stop when they saw who it was. Standing amidst a pile of defeated warriors, dusting off his coat, was none other than Aric. He waved. "Hey, guys. Miss me?"