Chapter Text
The Akhlut had been sailing for about a week, and the crew had just started getting adjusted to sleeping on the ship. Chief Hakoda was just drifting off when Panuk had sounded the alarm.
The cause for said alarm was on all fours by the railing, hacking up seawater on the deck while Panuk pounded on their back to help get the water out.
When the coughing ceased, Hakoda stepped forward, and the small figure froze behind their curtain of dark hair, which hung almost down to the deck, hiding their face and much of their torso. They can't be older than Sokka, Hakoda's brain unhelpfully pointed out.
He wondered how a teenager — maybe not even that — had ended up so far south. It wasn't one of theirs, going by the pale skin. It was a month's sail to the nearest Earth Kingdom port, and they'd had no reports that any ship would be sailing in their waters.
The kid was hardly dressed for the cold. The only clothing they had on were a pair of thin, loose pants that likely offered no protection; the strip of fabric around their upper arm might have been a shirt, once, but looked like had been torn for a bandage. Both feet were bare, the toes tinged blue.
"Who are you?" Tuluk asked, caution edging his voice.
The bedraggled teen raised their head, and Hakoda froze in shock. And horror.
One gold eye glared up at him from half of a pale face. The other half was a mess of blisters and leathery red, the eye nearly shut in a permanent expression of pain. A deep cut dripped blood onto the deck, where it mixed with the water dripping off them; the teen didn't seem to notice.
"I am Prince Zuko," he said, in a voice deeper and hoarser than Hakoda had expected. "Son of Ursa and Firelord Ozai. Crown Prince of the Fire Nation."
Within a second, every crewmember had their hand on a weapon; Panuk stepped away from the Prince, eyeing him warily.
Hakoda managed to keep his composure. "What are you doing in our waters?"
"Drowning."
"Answer the question, brat." Akela, the ship's nineteen-year-old apprentice healer, glared at the Prince, stepping forward.
"Stand down, Akela." Hakoda raised his hand, looking down at the Prince. "Why are you in our waters?"
"I'm on a mission from my father. Hunting the Avatar."
Panuk snorted. "Sure, kid. You're, what, ten?"
"I'm thirteen!" the Prince snapped. "And I'm telling the truth."
"How'd you end up in the water?"
"There was a storm. I fell off my ship."
Hakoda remembered the Akhlut going through a storm — three days ago. La's depths, he was out there that long? he had to crush down his sympathy, remembering this was the Firelord's son.
"How many ships were behind you?" Akela asked. "How many people are looking for you?"
The Prince looked Akela up and down. "I thought the Water Tribes didn't allow women to fight," he said, more confusion than malice in his voice.
"And I thought the Fire Nation didn't send children chasing after spirit tales," Akela answered smoothly, crossing her arms. "I guess we were both wrong."
"I'm not a child —!"
The Prince cried out as he made a move to stand up, doubling over and clutching at his knee, which Hakoda noticed was bent at an angle just too far to the right to be healthy. After several seconds he didn't move again; Panuk nudged him with the side of his boot.
"He's passed out, Chief."
Hakoda sighed. "Take him to the infirmary. I'll decide what to do with him in the morning."
Panuk and Akela lifted the kid, heading to the infirmary; The rest of the crew slowly trickled back into the cabin.
Hakoda went back to his hammock, his mind reeling with questions.
Thirteen. Their prisoner, the Prince, was barely a teenager. He couldn't think how on earth the boy could have gotten to the middle of the South Sea; his Avatar story had to be a lie. Nobody was that foolish. Hakoda doubted he was in the military, either. The youngest Fire Nation soldier he'd ever seen couldn't have been younger than sixteen — he'd never, ever seen one so young.
He sighed, resigning himself to another night of restless sleep, knowing there was a Fire Nation royal on his ship.