When Hatred turned to Love (ATLA Zuko x OC)

CHAP1 - REWRITTEN AND EDITED!

New title for Chapter One: The Assassin. 

Hello y'all! So I will edit and rewrite this entire first book of the WHTTL Series but I will not post the entire rewrite on Wattpad. I'll post it on Ao3 instead. It's gonna take me a while to finish the rewrite, but I really want to do it, cuz this fic is my baby, and my bad grammar and vocabulary from 2016 does not do it justice. 

What does 'rewritten and edited' mean? It means that I'll try to have as fewer grammatical errors as I can possibly have and I'll add more scenes that are very important to the story (More Sokka x Iris, more flashbacks to Iris's unforgivable past, extra scenes, more, more, more, just more content)

Which means that the story will be darker than it is. There is gonna be swearing, strong language, mention of self-harm, mention of past rape non/con, gore, Graphic Depictions of heavy violence, Smut - Explicit +18 Suggestive Content chapters, Characters dealing with an excess form of PTSD.

Yes, I write some dark stuff, which means, that if you're not 18+ (and I know that the majority of Wattpad users aren't, that's why I won't post the final draft here), and if you can't handle the majority of the above, DO NOT READ this chapter, and DO NOT seek out to read the final draft WHEN I post it on Ao3 (I will announce it in my profile when I will).

But I did finish the first chapter! So I want y'all to have a look and lemme know what you think!

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|1| THE ASSASSIN

Cold. She hated the cold. Goodness, she hated it more than anything, she had no idea why she was still in the Southern Water Tribe – or whatever was left of it at least. A bunch of helpless women and children bound to wait forever for the men of the tribe that were never going to come back. This war was a lost cause. She always thought so. She had seen what the Fire Nation was capable of. She had seen it first-hand. She shouldn't even be here. Alas, she had nothing better to do and she'd never go back to her previous life. The Southern Pole was the furthest away she could get. She was pretty much a wanted criminal everywhere.

She almost smiled proudly on that very thought.

She let out a large sigh. Her warm breath, a white small cloud that passed through the cold. It was late in the night as she stared ahead at the endless white valleys. Dark blue reflected on the freezing cold white snow and icebergs. She was sitting down on the ice. It was a bad idea. A terrible one, but she had done it so many times. She just sat there, on the cold, in the freezing dropping temperatures of the south.

She gathered a handful of snow between her leather gloved hand and pressed it at the open wound that she had in the wrist of her other hand. Her bloody dagger rested beside her. Her back, against the iceberg behind her, snow beneath her. The sky was so clear. The stars were visible with great accuracy. A cloudless sky promised a cold night. And the snow was drenched in blood – her blood that she had drained from herself. A painless little punishment that stung and hurt and anyone else would be screaming in pain. But she didn't. Her face, unphased. Nothing really hurt anymore. Not even her own dagger on her skin. Her punishments had become inadequate to keep her distracted.

Footsteps. Familiar footsteps. She knew who it was that was coming her way. She groaned and turned her head and looked away. She gathered a little more snow to press on her wound. The bleeding had almost – regrettably – stopped.

The boy sighed at the sight of her as he stepped in front of her. Her body looked limp, and her eyes, half-lidded as she looked away and he looked down at her.

"You did it again, didn't you?"

She ignored him. The bleeding now completely stopped. Her wounded hand, so cold, almost paralysed. She pulled herself up anyway, trying her best not to trip and fall so pathetically unconscious on the cold layer of snow on their feet.