Chapter Text
They were passing the Eastern Air Temple when it happened.
The Southern Water Tribe warriors had made better time than expected, thanks to generous winds and La choosing to give them gentle waters. They had left the North Pole for Chameleon Bay only two months ago, sailing without incident around the Earth Kingdom. They got cocky.
Then it happened.
A Fire Nation cruiser. A big metal beast, cutting through the waves. They spotted it in time to have evaded it – their ship was smaller, faster - but the younger crewmen were restless and the senior crewmen had years of anger. Chief Hakoda made a call to stay on course and intercept the cruiser. Evidently, that had been the wrong call.
They got away with no fatalities and a burnt but still functioning hull, but Bato, Hakoda’s Second and lifelong friend, got injured. Bad. Hakoda would never forget the strained look in Kanut’s eyes as he turned to Bato’s mutilated arm. Hakoda would never forget the sound of Bato gritting his teeth to hide his agony. Hakoda would never forget the smell of burning flesh.
Hakoda was a leader. Leaders made decisions. This was the responsibility that crushed him when those decisions turned out to be wrong, and lately, those decisions had all been wrong. Only last week, General Fong – a close ally to the Southern Water Tribe that Hakoda had spent the past year working with over their plans for Chameleon Bay – had cut ties with the Ullaakut. Fong was an excellent strategist, but he saw the Water Tribe as beneath him. He was constantly trying to get things by Hakoda, assuming Hakoda wouldn't notice. Oftentimes, Hakoda feigned obliviousness simply for an easier alliance, seeing as most of their supplies came from the Earth Kingdom and starvation was worse than a kick to Hakoda’s ego, but last week, General Fong had tried to create an agreement with Hakoda. He hid it behind fancy wordplay, but Bato had translated the paperwork. If Hakoda signed, the Earth Kingdom would pull back their supplies, and in return, the Ullaakut would join their navy officially. The Water Tribe gained absolutely nothing. This was more than subtle exploitation; this was General Fong spitting in Hakoda’s face. Hakoda hadn’t stood for it. Bato tried to stop him, but he got in an argument all the same.
Now the Ullaakut had to find her own supplies, but at least she wasn’t in some Earth Kingdom navy.
And after what was about to happen next, it would seem Hakoda’s bad decisions just kept on coming.
Nanook was friends with a boy from the Colonies because Nanook was friends with everybody. This friend of his had mentioned an Abbey, on the coast of the Mo Ce Sea. The nuns were the most advanced healers Nanook knew. The nuns were Bato’s only chance.
Even though the nuns were hundreds of miles in the wrong direction.
But Bato was more than a Second to Hakoda, and that decision had been an easy one. They sailed to Chameleon Bay, then through it to the East Lake. Some of the younger crewmen had laughed here, revelling in theirs being the only ship in the entire lake.
They soon realised why. They soon realised why the strip of rocks separating the East Lake and the West Lake was named the Serpent’s Pass.
They almost sunk. Chena got thrown overboard more than once, oaf that he was. They barely made it out, and they were all on high alert after that. It was clear they didn’t know these waters, and it was clear these waters didn’t want them here.
Hakoda had known they couldn’t risk sailing much further into the Colonies. Bato had known too. The two men made an agreement. No words were needed - they'd known each other too long for that – but when they stopped on a thin strip of Eastern coast along the Colonies, Bato had got off. Even though Nanook’s Abbey was a distance on foot. Even though the territory they were leaving Bato in belonged to the ashmakers.
“I’ll see you soon, Chief.” Bato had smiled from the shore. It looked more like a grimace. “Don’t go scrapping with General Fong again.”
“Have fun with the nuns.” Hakoda grinned back, leaning on the deck’s railings as each second put more and more water between him and his friend.
Tomkin, the crew’s youngest member, ran to Hakoda’s side, waving with the enthusiasm of an excited Polar dog. “We’ll try not to sink before you catch up!” He called, and Bato laughed, then he winced. Hakoda couldn’t help but wince with him. He had known a lot would happen before he saw his friend again.
He certainly hadn’t known the Prince of the Fire Nation would happen.
____
Uncle kept badgering him. Where have you been, Prince Zuko? Why is there a bruise on your face, Prince Zuko? Have you slept, Prince Zuko? Zuko didn’t want to answer those questions, so he found himself on the deck of his ship, the Erlong, glaring out at the water around him. Brooding. He needed to think about what happened at the Pohuai Stronghold, but every time his mind turned to the logistics of it, he became distracted.
Do you think we could have been friends? The Avatar had asked him. Him, the firebender who had actively been hunting the Avatar since the South Pole, since so much longer than that. And he’d asked in that voice. That voice that was hopeful and innocent and twelve. Zuko had been charged to hunt a divine being of endless power. He was still coming to terms with the fact that that divine being was a child.
"Your Highness?”
Lieutenant Jee had once sounded tense when he spoke to Zuko, that bitten back anger the prince knew so well, that hatred of the Erlong’s teenage captain practically oozing from the senior Lieutenant. Lieutenant Jee had changed since last week’s storm. In fact, the entire crew had changed. They looked at Zuko different. It unsettled him. Even now, the tension from Lieutenant Jee’s voice had reduced to simple caution, his footsteps clanging annoyingly on the metal deck.
“What?" Zuko hissed, jerking his head to the side but not turning to face the member of his crew.
“The helmsman has spotted a ship ahead of us. A Water Tribe ship.”
Zuko remembered the girl with the beads in her hair and grit in her blue eyes. Zuko remembered the boy with the boomerang. The Water Tribe were not his friend on a good day. But today was not a good day, and Zuko’s eyes narrowed on the miniscule spot in the distance.
“Well,” he said, “they’re a long way from home.”
____
It was a good morning. A sailor’s morning, as Hakoda's father would have once called it. The wind was strong and the sky was clear. The crew were busy doing their chores for the day, most of them bristling with the knowledge that they were so close to a Fire Nation stronghold. The locals had told them it was called Pohuai; a fortress boasting archers that could pin a fly to a tree from a hundred yards away without killing it. Nonetheless, the Water Tribe sailed on. Their ship, the Ullaakut, was small and alone, passing quietly through the narrow pass to the Mo Ce Sea. The Fire Nation wouldn’t even notice them.
“The animals here are weird." Tomkin said, face scrunched up as he poked and prodded the animal lying on the deck before him. It seemed to be some sort of rabbit, except it wasn’t white like in the South Pole, and its ears were ridiculously large. Chena had spotted a cluster of the little creatures gathered right on the shore, metres from the Ullaakut. Chena, being Chena, didn’t hesitate to kill them, and now they had four dead sort-of-rabbits before them.
“That jaw blade isn’t decorative, kid.” Hakoda said with a nod to the toothed blade by Tomkin’s crossed legs. “Get skinning.”
“I hate skinning.” Tomkin mumbled. Bato usually took over skinning from Tomkin, knowing the youngest crewman hated the blood, but it had been a week since they left Bato at the Abbey, and as if remembering this, Tomkin did as he was told.
“Chena,” Nanook said with wide blue eyes, halfway through skinning his own rabbit, “is there a reason my imposter-rabbit is half-decapitated?"
Chena shrugged, cracking his big knuckles in his even bigger hands. “Critter got feisty.” Was all he offered.
“You idiots aren’t calling them imposter-rabbits.” Kanut interjected. Hakoda was surprised the healer had joined them. He usually spent his free time with his nose in a book.
“Oh yeah, wise guy?” Tomkin grinned. “What’s their real name?”
“Lop-eared rabbits.” Kanut flicked a strand of his white hair from his eyes with a smug smile. Of course he would know their real name. “And you just pierced its bladder.”
Tomkin cried out in horror. Sure enough, the liquid dripping on him was not what he had assumed it was. The crew burst out laughing, and even Hakoda couldn’t help but shake his head at the youngest crewman.
That was when the wind seemed to change, and a dark shadow appeared on the horizon.
____
“Prince Zuko, it is not wise to pick battles you have no need for.” Uncle Iroh said, his voice always level, but now with an undertone of uncertainty as the crew prepared for a fight. Zuko strapped on his armour, which was always too heavy on his lanky limbs. Not that he’d ever admit that.
“The Northern Water tribe have mocked the Fire Nation for decades with their mutiny.” Zuko said with a scowl. “They are the enemy.”
Zuko knew sinking a single Water Tribe ship wouldn’t bring his honour back, wouldn’t make Father love him. But it made him more Fire Nation, and that was a start. Zuko had always been too soft, too weak, too everything Azula wasn’t. Do you think we could have been friends? Zuko would burn his own edges so the stupid Avatar would never even consider that question again.
“Nephew,” Uncle tried again, his tone different, “the men on that ship have fathers too.”
Zuko froze, mid-buckle of his armour.
“And brothers and sisters and children and wives.” Uncle continued. “You do not have to be a part of this war. You do not want to be a part of this war. I speak from experience when I tell you it gains you nothing and loses you everything.”
But Zuko already had lost everything. He was a stain on his family’s name and scorned by the Fire Nation. They didn't want a prince like him, a prince who saw a Water Tribe ship in his father’s Colonies - his Colonies - and didn’t attack.
Uncle placed a calloused hand to Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko barely even jumped when Uncle touched him now, but in that moment, he couldn’t help it. He'd been staring at the Water Tribe ship. It was closer now. Close enough to see the men scrambling on its deck.
Perhaps Uncle was right.
____
It was a lone ship and it was unmistakably Fire Nation. The metal hull, the smoke billowing in its wake, the unnatural speed of it as it sliced through the waters. Yep, Fire Nation.
It was also unmistakably going to attack the Ullaakut.
“Chena, get the tangle mines! Kanut, below deck! Aput, the armoury-!” Hakoda’s orders came out strong and without hesitation. It was times like this that the crew saw the true power of their chief. They carried out each task he set them, over a dozen men running around one small boat. In the rush of it all, it was easy to miss Nanook ruffling Tomkin’s hair, or Chena knocking shoulders with Kanut.
A battle was not something you got used to, and this crew had said goodbye to one another a thousand times.
Hakoda clutched his spear tighter, glaring at the black ship before him, watching the predator lunge.
____
They weren’t retreating. Zuko had slowed his advance but the Water Tribe hadn’t. They were storming forward on their path, weapons raised, even as Zuko refused each request his crew made.
Your Highness, shall we light the catapult?
No.
Permission to arm, Sir?
Denied.
And Uncle had that glint in his bronze eyes. The glint he got when Zuko caved and accepted a cup of tea, the glint he got when Zuko saved the helmsman last week, the glint he got when Zuko walked away from Zhao after winning that Agni Kai. What even was that look, aside infuriating?
It wasn’t enough to keep Zuko still, that was for sure. His finger tapped his bicep to the sporadic racing of his heart, the movement hidden by his sleeves and crossed arms. He was itching to turn and walk inside the control tower. Sparing this ship felt less like cowardice if he... ran away.
He knew the logic was flawed, but Zuko had heard about Water Tribe warriors like the ones sailing this ship. Savages, that's what the generals back home called them. Zuko had been told stories of these strange, fur-clad men who roamed the ice that was uninhabitable to firebenders, how they hunted with weapons made of bone, how they drank the blood of their prey, how they...
Not that Zuko was scared.
But they were close now. Prince Zuko saw a large man, shoulders broad, back straight with the kind of pride only power could bring, staring right back at him. His hand was raised to the side, his men eagerly awaiting the fall of his arm, the order to attack. Why was he staring at him like that? It was weird, and Zuko would have felt much better in his cabin pretending to have never seen the Water Tribe ship in the first place. He decided that was the best port of call.
Three things happened simultaneously. Prince Zuko turned with an aggressive huff to leave, the large man’s arm swung down, and Zuko realised that the staring had, in actual fact, been a stand-off.
Zuko was such an idiot.
____
“They aren’t even trying to attack.” Nanook said quietly, machete held so tight at his side that his knuckles glistened.
“The smug bastards don’t think we’re worth their weapons.” Chena snarled, anger rippling from him like waves in the ocean.
Hakoda was watching the Fire Nation ship intently. His crew were right; the enemy wasn’t even preparing. They were clearly soldiers with that armour and that stance, stood in line on their deck, but they held no weapons, and their single catapult sat unlit.
And stood before them were two men. One was old, with long grey hair and a pointed beard, short and stout and listless. The second was blatantly younger, but the Ullaakut was too short for Hakoda to see fully the man’s age. All Hakoda could make out was a plume of charcoal black hair tied back with red, and an angry, marked face. By the Spirits, what even was that on his face? War paint?
If he was the only one wearing war paint, then he was probably the captain.
“Waiting on your call, Chief.” Chena said, turning to look to where Hakoda stood at the bow. “Tulok has a tangle mine ready.”
But Hakoda was looking at the Fire Nation captain. He learnt his lesson by the Eastern Air Temple. Hakoda didn’t have the men to spare for unnecessary conflict. This captain was acting peculiarly. Why hadn’t he attacked yet? Why wasn’t he preparing his men? Why was he staring?
Was he waiting for Hakoda to make the first move?
Hakoda raised his hand in Chena’s general direction, refusing to look away from the Fire Nation captain but indicating to his crew to be ready to attack. Hakoda felt an exhausted hope within him, one that had been crushed too many times, as he watched the captain, prayed that the captain would decide not to spill blood today.
The captain didn’t hear his prayers. He spun to his crew with too much elegance for a sailor or a solider and Hakoda didn’t give him the chance to give the kill order. Hakoda dropped his hand. The tangle mine shot into the propeller. Two worlds collided.
And that exhausted hope was crushed once more.
____
Just because Lieutenant Jee had been aboard the young prince’s ship for three years didn’t mean he liked the stupid boy. He simply grew used to him. He knew how to weather Prince Zuko’s anger now, how to answer the demands made of him without feeling the constant urge to commit child murder.
Because that was the thing. Prince Zuko was only a child.
And so what if Lieutenant Jee saw him different after what General Iroh told the crew last week? So what if Prince Zuko’s scar really did look a little like a hand that never should have harmed him? Knowing the truth behind Prince Zuko’s hostility certainly hadn’t made him any nicer. His Highness had all the ferocity and defensive attitude as a tigerdillo.
A particularly young tigerdillo... who had been through something awful... and always turned almost nice when he spoke with his Uncle... almost... endearing.
And it was because of being aboard the young prince’s ship for three years, and now knowing what he knew from General Iroh, that Lieutenant Jee was starting to understand Prince Zuko. This was how he knew the prince had never intended to start the fight.
But obviously, when it came to Prince Zuko, the fight followed him regardless, and now there were a dozen Water Tribe warriors in combat with half a dozen unprepared Fire Nation soldiers on the deck of the Erlong. Arrows fired from crossbows, swords clashed against machetes, men called to one another, blue bled into red and red stained the blue. Lieutenant Jee ducked and dodged, swinging his fist into the jaw of a much smaller man. A ball of flames erupted in Lieutenant Jee’s hand, an arrogant grin pulling his lips as he aimed at the first coat of blue he saw.
That was when the ship groaned beneath him with enough volume to make the deck tremble.
____
The Water Tribe warrior rushed Zuko, wielding a raised spear, the spike glistening white in Agni’s rays. They really did make their weapons from bones. Zuko ducked swiftly like he’d trained to, using his small size against the man’s hugeness. And this man was huge. The prince had heard about the tall, broad builds of the Water Tribe citizens, but even next to his own crew, the warrior was gigantic. His shoulders were wider than three of Zuko, his arms big enough to break necks before breaking a sweat. It was his eyes that were the most unsettling. A heartless grey, narrowed on Zuko.
“Ashmaker.” The man spat, lumbering forward and arcing his spear down to pierce Zuko’s chest. Or at least it would have pierced Zuko’s chest if he hadn’t hopped to the side, kicking the back of the warrior’s knee so that he fell to the floor, jabbing a sharp elbow into the small of his back now he was vulnerable.
Over the man’s wheezing curses, Zuko hissed a response. "Barbarian."
The man didn’t stay down. Zuko hadn’t expected him to. But Zuko could picture only his dual swords, hung in his cabin so as to appear decorative. Without them, he had only his bending to defend him against an experienced warrior twice his size.
It would have to be enough.
No. It would be enough. He was Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation. He wasn’t going to panic because a ruffian with a spear came at him. He wasn’t going to be weak.
The rage inside him burned, and in turn, so did Zuko’s hands. The warrior – who had by now staggered to his feet – gasped quietly, grey eyes widening in shock, as if he had thought Zuko was a non-bender. The surprise didn’t last, and the two clashed once more. The warrior was strong. The blows he struck weren’t painful, they were agonising. Fists bruising and, once or twice, the sharp bone of his spear slicing Zuko’s skin. But Zuko was quick. He always had been. So long as he could evade, he could turn the warrior’s size against him. He could-.
A deafening groan slit through the battle, the metal deck rumbling beneath Zuko’s feet. Zuko wasn’t a trained sailor, but he was pretty sure that was not supposed to happen.
“Nephew!” Uncle was calling him. He sounded worried, almost desperate.
Zuko focussed and threw up a wall of fire between him and the big warrior, watching with satisfaction as the man jumped back a few paces. Zuko used those seconds to search the deck. His soldiers were far fewer and the sudden distress of their ship made them look to one another in a panic. Idiots, Zuko thought. Showing weakness before an enemy was a death sentence.
He watched it play out. Watched one of his youngest soldiers, a boy called Lee only a year older than Zuko, take a single step back in fear. Watched one of the warriors zone in on this fear like a shirshu picking up a scent. Watched Lee throw a clumsy ball of fire and miss. Watched the warrior hurl the sharp blade of a boomerang forward. Lee tried to evade it, stumbling back, knocking over Uncle’s pai sho table so that the tiles scattered loudly on the metal deck, but Lee was too inexperienced to dodge such a quick attack. The boomerang slit his throat, returning to the hand of the Water Tribe savage, and Lee’s body fell to the floor.
“Daydreaming, kid?” The big warrior demanded, suddenly in Zuko’s face, oblivious to what Zuko had wasted his precious seconds staring at.
“I’m not a kid.” Zuko hissed, affronted, but he felt sick and he could smell blood and if he wanted any credence then he needed to stop being such a baby. There was a war going on. People were bound to die.
It's just that Zuko had never seen death quite like that before, and Lee had a wonderful voice on music nights that drifted through Zuko’s open cabin window that he definitely didn’t keep open because he liked the music, it was just hot in his cabin some nights. And alright, maybe sometimes he’d pick up the stupid djembe drum Uncle had left in his room – another of his pointless purchases – and tap along the songs his mother used to show him, the beats moving perfectly through the air with Lee’s voice-.
And now Lee was dead.
Uncle kept calling him but Zuko knew only fire, and he attacked the warrior before him with all the hatred he harboured.
____
The tangle mine had completely paralysed the propeller, and some of the Water Tribe warriors had got below deck to mess with the mechanics. The ship was going to sink. And worse still, Lieutenant Jee had just been told that Admiral Zhao’s ship was approaching. Soon, the cruel man who constantly harassed Prince Zuko, a teenager, would be traversing the horizon, bearing witness to this. The Erlong was sinking and would be completely destroyed soon. The soldiers were determined but outnumbered. Even if they won the battle against the Water Tribe warriors, which they could only do if the prince thought with more than his anger and if General Iroh overcame his sudden pacifism, then they would have no ship to claim victory aboard.
Lieutenant Jee knew what had to happen now.
His hands were bloody as he ran to the General, avoiding the blows firing between the two forces. General Iroh stood at the bow of the ship, an ashen circle around him. He had used only defence for this entire fight.
Lieutenant Jee had seen first-hand the wisdom this General had grown since his failure in Ba Sing Se, and he had heard how the death of his son, Lu Ten, had broken him from something that was once esteemed to something lowly and docile. Despite these rumours and the insistence that General Iroh was a tale of falling from grace, Lieutenant Jee had always respected him. Even now, Lieutenant Jee knew there was a reason behind all of General Iroh’s actions. A convoluted one, but a reason all the same.
“General!” Lieutenant Jee called to be heard over the cries of battle.
“They aren’t benders.” General Iroh said, making Lieutenant Jee stop short. It was something he had noticed when the fight started. While the warriors fought with the ferocity of their people, none of them had taken advantage of the water around them. It was the only thing making the fight semi-equal.
Lieutenant Jee turned back to the General. “We need to-."
“I know, Lieutenant.” General Iroh said, voice taut, his bronze eyes focussed on a single figure that made fighting look like a dance he had perfected. “We need to leave.”
It was a difficult realisation, but they both knew it. Admiral Zhao couldn’t see them like this. Admiral Zhao couldn’t see Prince Zuko like this. The Admiral wouldn’t care that the prince was outnumbered, or that there was nothing they could do to fix the ship, or that the prince had tried peace before those Water Tribe savages refused it. Admiral Zhao would care only that the prince had failed. He would revel in it.
Lieutenant Jee gave the order for the men to start falling back, an order he gave only with the confidence of General Iroh backing him, because he knew the prince would bite his head off for that one. The soldiers’ relief was blatant as they staggered back, exhausted. By now, the Erlong’s deterioration was all anyone could hear. Lieutenant Jee couldn’t even hear his own yells over the complaining metal.
But he could see.
He could see General Iroh calling to his nephew. He could see the prince first ignore him, then refuse him. He could see Prince Zuko keep going even as his soldiers abandoned ship. He could see that Prince Zuko wouldn’t stop fighting if it killed him. He could see that General Iroh knew it would kill him, and wouldn’t allow it.
“Zuko!” General Iroh yelled again as a particularly large Water Tribe warrior propelled his fist into the young Prince’s ribs. Prince Zuko stumbled back a pace, cradling his small torso, but only fought back with more malice.
Surrender was not a word in his dictionary.
____
Zuko was a terrible liar. He always had been. Azula had been able to weave words together like poetry ever since she was little, but whenever Zuko tried, he’d fidget, or blush, or just panic so much he’d turn rigid and stop talking altogether.
He lied to Father once. Only once. He'd been eight at the time, trying to practice a form that Azula had of course already perfected. He knocked a vase, an antique, and watched it shatter on the marble. That had been Grandfather Azulon’s vase. When Father had asked in that icy tone who had done it, Zuko tried to blame one of the servants. So, Father had the servant dragged before him, crying and begging for a mercy he didn’t even know the name of. Zuko broke as quick as the vase, admitting through sobs that he had done it and that he was sorry. Father wasn’t pleased. Zuko could still remember that servant’s scream of agony as Father set fire to the poor man’s hands. Zuko could remember lunging to try and help, his mother wrapping him tightly in her arms and pressing his face to her shoulder where he couldn’t see the horror he had inflicted. This is what happens when you lie, Father had said. Mother led Zuko to his room and he held it together until it was just them, then he threw up and cried in her arms until morning.
Prince Zuko couldn’t lie, but he could exploit his Uncle’s faith. If he didn’t, Uncle would never leave. The ship was sinking, the men were outnumbered, and Zhao was coming. Zuko wouldn't damn his crew for the sake of his pride, only himself.
“Please, Prince Zuko. As a leader, you must take the path of wisdom, not glory.” Uncle begged, gaze flicking between the crew that had made it safely to the green grass of the nearby land, and Zuko, who had managed to get to his Uncle’s side before that Water Tribe brute caved his head in. They only had a moment before the warriors would be on them again. He only had a moment to choose.
“Okay.” Zuko said, and Uncle’s eyes widened in surprise. That had been... too easy. Much, much too easy. But Zuko knew Uncle was too desperate to get away to think hard on Zuko’s actions, so Uncle nodded sternly, before descending the Erlong’s trembling ladder. Lieutenant Jee was there to help the old General. Zuko watched until he was sure his uncle was safe, before nodding to Lieutenant Jee. The man’s eyes widened, before understanding took over and he nodded back. He would take care of Uncle Iroh.
Zuko pulled up the ladder.
“No!” Uncle cried, realising that Zuko had never intended to go with him. Prince Zuko dashed away from the rail, because the horror in his Uncle’s bronze eyes made him feel as heartbroken as when he was eight.
In his mind, he still saw his dual swords. He wasn't going anywhere without them.
____
The men had begun to celebrate, throwing tired grins to one another, slapping hands to shoulders. It was less victory and more relief. Hakoda watched the Fire Nation soldiers hop their ship’s rail one by one, the spear in his hand suddenly a lot lighter.
“Shall we chase them?” Chena suggested. He was bleeding, his lip split and entire left side burnt. It wasn’t a serious burn, but it was big.
Hakoda thought a moment. If they chased them, they could kill them. Ridding the world of even a handful of Fire Nation soldiers was a justice in itself, and some of these were firebenders. But despite the Ullaakut’s crew having more men, the Fire Nation had done a lot of damage. Hakoda needed to tend to his wounded. He needed to make sure no one had sabotaged his ship. He needed to check he hadn’t lost anyone.
“No. Get Kanut.” Hakoda said, and Chena nodded before stomping off.
“Wait.” Tulok said, raising his bloody boomerang suddenly, jerking his chin towards the rail. Hakoda snapped his attention to what his crewman had spotted, his stomach knotting when he saw a young soldier take a symbolic step away from the rail. Towards them.
This was the captain. Or at least, Hakoda had thought this was the captain from the low deck of the Ullaakut. He knew now that he was looking at a boy, a kid. And the mark on his face was not war paint, but in fact a burn, raging over his left eye and turning every expression into a scowl, though Hakoda had a feeling most of this boy’s expressions were scowls anyway.
“Back for more?” Chena was grinning, but it was the grin he pulled when he was about to hit something, his grey eyes on this boy and this boy alone. They must have fought during the melee – the anger on Chena’s large form just screamed personal – but Hakoda found it unlikely that this soldier had been the one to burn Chena. It wasn’t that he probably wasn’t a bender, given that scar, but just the fact that he was so... small. He didn’t have nearly enough bruises to have taken on Chena.
“Come on, boy. I want to see what they teach children in the Fire Nation.” Chena goaded further, taking a step forward. They needed to leave soon. The Fire Nation ship had gone eerily quiet, which was never good news. Hypothermia patients always went quiet before they died. Hakoda didn’t want to be here when the ship’s mechanics gave in entirely.
The Water Tribe warriors had found their back to the ship’s control tower, and Hakoda noticed something that Chena didn’t. The soldier was looking at the door they were unknowingly guarding, not them.
There was something here that he wanted.
“Keep talking and you might just get a lesson.” The boy said, voice a rasp like rocks against a ship’s hull.
“Chena,” Nanook said weakly, being held up by Tomkin thanks to a gruesome burn on his chest that had singed entirely through his shirt, blood staining the blue, “he’s just a teenager.”
“So is Tomkin.” Aput said. “Do you think if that was Tomkin and we were Fire Nation, they would spare him?”
They all knew the answer, and even the thought of Tomkin in such a position made Hakoda’s fist clench at his side. Tomkin swallowed nervously, looking to his chief. One by one, the others did the same. Hakoda knew they would have to kill this boy. Hakoda didn’t even feel much remorse. They gave the soldiers every opportunity to flee. This one decided he wanted to fight.
A lot like Sokka. In fact, this boy was around Sokka’s age...
No. This boy was Fire Nation.
Hakoda worked his jaw, looking to Chena. He nodded once and Chena’s grin grew as he picked up a machete from the floor.
____
The machete fit the warrior’s big hand like it had been fashioned for it, the blade sharp and ready to snatch Zuko’s life. This... had been a very bad idea. The Water Tribe warriors weren’t supposed to be in his way. He was supposed to be able to get into the tower, grab his dual swords, and then...
And then what? Just like Uncle always said, he hadn’t thought this through.
So Prince Zuko would do what he had always done. Prince Zuko would fight.
“Come on then.” The big warrior taunted. Prince Zuko felt the rage within him sear its confines, his chi unsettled, but he kept it in check. Just a little longer. The big warrior took another step forward. Just a tiny bit more...
One more oblivious step, then Zuko lunged, and fire exploded on the deck.
The Water Tribe warriors who had opted to let Zuko and their biggest warrior fight this out jumped in shock. Zuko had noticed that none of this crew were waterbenders – though why the Northern Water Tribe wanted a crew of non-benders sailing alone was beyond him – but that didn’t mean Zuko wasn’t sick of people assuming he was a non-bender. He let this add to the rest of his frustrations, kicking out at the big warrior with the moves Uncle taught him, fire shooting from his feet. The big warrior rolled just in time, and a second explosion of fire saw the other warriors move to avoid it. The door to the control tower was clear. Zuko could see it. Zuko could do this.
The machete swung down. Zuko grabbed the warrior’s arm. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to stop the blow, so instead he pushed it away, the man’s heavy weight tumbling with him as Zuko shoved him with all the muscle he had. But the warrior was getting attuned to the way Zuko fought. He'd expected something like this, and instead of falling, he rolled, standing behind Zuko and slicing his machete down Zuko’s back. The pain was white hot, like Zuko's own bending gone wrong, like looking up at Father and seeing only fire. Blood began to spread through the linen of Zuko’s shirt, dripping between his shoulder blades. It was a big cut, deep, and if left much longer, fatal.
Prince Zuko spun to face his opponent, the agony of having his back turned now all too literal. The big warrior looked smug, but he was panting slightly. Zuko’s quick movements were tiring him. They were both on a time limit. The warrior, too big to continue at this pace. Zuko, too injured to keep fighting. The rest of the Water Tribe had moved even more. The door was almost comically clear.
Zuko moved too slow. He lunged towards the door, missing the muscled arm swooping down. His momentum surged forwards but it was snatched back just as quickly, the big warrior’s arm wrapping around his waist, throwing Zuko to the ground. The metal deck slammed against the cut on Zuko’s back and he was too winded to even scream out the pain that filled every nerve of his body. Instead, he coughed, spluttering, desperately trying to take the weight off his wound, his entire body freezing up for a moment. His fire wasn’t coming. The Water Tribe were.
He managed to push onto his chest, stubbornness overcoming his pain. He had faced worse. He needed to suck it up and get on with it.
Zuko tried to crawl towards the door, the pai sho tiles pricking his palms. Distantly, he saw the white lotus tile staring at him. Uncle's favourite tile. Zuko grabbed it in his bloody hand, forcing himself to keep crawling. His world seemed to stop and start with those dual swords. But he knew they were a pipe dream, a falsehood of safety. He couldn’t win this fight. He was going to die here. And he definitely wasn’t scared, because he wasn’t weak, but he thought of Uncle’s anguish, the taste of jasmine tea. He thought of his father. He would never make him proud now.
The big warrior loomed over him, kicking Zuko onto his back again and missing how Zuko hissed in a breath at this fact, one knee to the metal deck, one knee pressing against Zuko’s chest, pushing his cut harder to the Erlong. The man was just so heavy. He wrapped two big hands around Zuko’s neck and suddenly Zuko couldn’t breathe, and he clawed at the man and tried to kick him away but it was no good.
“Stupid brat.” The man hissed. “Stupid Fire Nation. Stupid kid.”
And the fire returned. Because Zuko wasn’t a stupid kid. He would prove he wasn’t. He would make Father proud. He would make his nation proud. He would fight. Until the last beat of his heart, he would fight.
With the blood of his cut lip making his mouth taste metallic, Prince Zuko used the last of his energy to spit in the warrior’s face. The man yelled in disgust, his hands loosening enough for Zuko to suck in a breath.
“I’m not a kid.” Zuko snarled through grit teeth, each word like knives up his throat as he glared at the man on top of him.
“I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation. Son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai, heir to the throne."
____
The chief went quiet when the kid said that. All of them did, actually. Even Chena found himself hesitating, hands still wrapped around the little critter’s neck but releasing any pressure he’d previously applied. The skin beneath his fingers was royal, was the spawn of the Fire Lord. If Chena didn’t want this brat dead before, he certainly did now. He wanted to crush his ribs beneath his knee, or leave him to bleed out on his own ship, or choke the life from him, or throw him overboard. Drowning would be a fitting death bestowed from a Water Tribe warrior, especially when it was bestowed upon the Fire Nation’s Prince.
“Chena, get him up.” Hakoda ordered, and Chena felt confusion fill him, but he trusted his chief with his life and didn’t hesitate to yank the prince to his feet. The boy was a little shaky, and the puddle of blood he left behind said why. He barely came to Chena's elbow, but he glared with the ferocity of someone twice the height. Spoilt brat.
Hakoda walked to stand before the prince, his blue eyes relentless. That was the thing about Hakoda. Chena had his muscle, Bato had his wit, but none of them had an inescapable aura quite like Hakoda’s. Even the prince could feel it. It was the slightest reaction, but having yanked the little royal to his side, hand still firmly wrapped around his arm to keep him there, Chena could feel the sudden rigidness that overcame the teenager.
Hakoda grabbed the kid’s chin, turning his face to eye up his scar. It was a nasty burn. Probably did it to himself in his own arrogance.
The prince flinched and for a moment didn’t think to pull away, before remembering that option and yanking himself back. Chena tightened his grip in warning.
“Do it, coward.” The prince snarled, blood dripping down his chin as his gold eyes flicked to Hakoda’s spear. Spirits, those eyes were gold. “Kill me.”
Hakoda had his thinking face on. As if to rush him, the ship groaned. It had been quiet for some time now; that couldn’t be good. They didn’t have time. Chena could end this Prince now and then they could all hop back on the Ullaakut and be done with this.
“Chief,” Tomkin started, now holding Nanook up with Tulok’s help after the warrior’s injuries caused him to pass out, “are we even able to kill him? I mean, if the Fire Lord comes after us because we killed his son-.”
“We can hardly keep him.” Aput argued. That was true. The Ullaakut was a boat for fighting and hunting, not keeping prisoners, and especially not prisoners who could produce fire at will.
“No,” Hakoda said gruffly, and everyone silenced, “but General Fong can.”
____
Prince Zuko wanted to say something, anything. But he had the worst migraine, and the metal deck was beginning to tilt, and he was starting to be a little grateful for how tight that brute of a warrior held him. And then that man stepped forward. That man who grabbed his face like he was some animal in a cage. That man with the recognisable build and same pride in his spine. Except this man’s eyes weren’t gold. They were blue. Blue, and icy as the ocean. The likeness to the vast water around them made Zuko’s throat burn. Drowning was suddenly so appealing, if it got Zuko away from him.
Something about the Earth Kingdom was said, and then Zuko was being dragged from the Erlong. He didn’t like this. The Earth Kingdom crushed firebenders’ hands. But he was too weak and it took all of his energy just to stay standing. He refused to collapse in front of these savages.
____
Hakoda was making a political move, which was all well and good, except Hakoda wasn’t political. He didn’t know how to barter with General Fong and he certainly didn’t know how to negotiate with the Fire Lord, but he also didn’t know how to keep a firebender prisoner on a wooden ship. He wanted to kill this boy, this Prince.
But he had been presented with an opportunity. General Fong was powerful enough and clever enough to correspond with the Fire Lord. With the prince as his hostage, General Fong could ask the man of anything. In the time before Hakoda let his temper control him, General Fong had made sure there was supplies for the Ullaakut to restock at every Earth Kingdom port. Without those supplies, Hakoda would have to cut into the ship’s own finances, which were very, very limited. Whether he liked it or not, General Fong was an ally Hakoda needed back desperately.
And this kid might just be the solution.
Chena took the stubborn Prince with him, Hakoda close behind and a wide-eyed Kanut emerging from the infirmary. Hakoda sent the crew away with the order of raiding the Fire Nation ship for supplies – preferably before it sank or, worse, exploded. Many were wounded, but the only serious injuries were Nanook’s and the damage Chena and Prince Zuko did to one another. Nanook's burn wasn’t nearly as bad as the prince’s slashed back and bruised neck, yet Nanook was the one who had to be carried to Kanut.
“We should throw him to the dolphin-piranhas.” Chena grumbled.
Kanut, who still looked decidedly like a man who had no idea why there was a Fire Nation teenager being marched to his infirmary, didn’t hesitate to respond. "They don’t even have dolphin-piranhas this far north, dumbass."
Chena on the prince’s arm seemed only decorative; he walked forward like the blood dripping from him wasn’t a problem. Hakoda was concerned, wondering if Fire Nation royals simply didn’t feel pain. His concern was short-lived, because as soon as they were below deck away from view, the Prince of the Fire Nation promptly collapsed.
Spirits, Hakoda thought, give me strength.