The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 38: A Family Breakfast

The palace gardens were a rare oasis of calm in the Fire Nation’s volcanic heart, manicured hedges framing pathways of polished obsidian, lotus ponds glinting under the morning sun, and fiery-red canna flowers blooming in defiance of the ashen skies. Zuko sat at a wrought-iron table, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as Katara approached. She hesitated at the edge of the terrace, her Water Tribe complexion stark against the garden’s crimson-and-black palette.

“Sit down, Katara,” Zuko said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. His tone was casual, but the command beneath it was unmistakable. “Eat. We’ll go see Aang soon.”

Katara’s jaw tightened, but she obeyed, sliding into the seat with deliberate slowness. The table was laden with Fire Nation delicacies, steaming buns filled with spiced pork, sliced mangoes glazed in honey, and a carafe of tamarind juice that sparkled like liquid amber. She reached for the juice first, the sweet tang momentarily distracting her from the prince’s piercing gaze.

“You look like you’ve never seen food before,” Zuko remarked, tearing into a bun with deliberate crudeness.

Katara ignored him, selecting a slice of warm bread instead. It was softer than she expected, almost melting on her tongue. ‘Traitorously good’, she thought, hating herself for enjoying even a crumb of Fire Nation luxury.

“Look at you,” a warm voice interrupted, “like you’ve never left home.”

Iroh emerged from the palace, his robes billowing around him like a benevolent storm cloud. Zuko’s stern expression softened imperceptibly.

“Uncle,” Zuko greeted, genuine warmth threading his voice. “We are home.”

“Indeed we are, nephew,” Iroh said, settling into a chair with a contented sigh. His eyes twinkled as he turned to Katara. “Good morning, young lady. How did you sleep on your first night in the Fire Nation?”

Katara choked on her juice, her cheeks flushing scarlet. Zuko snorted into his tea.

Iroh raised a brow. “Zuko… what did you do?”

“Nothing happened, Uncle,” Zuko said, rolling his eyes. “Azula and her circus of sycophants decided to pay a visit. It was… entertaining.”

“Hmm.” Iroh’s gaze lingered on Katara’s stiff shoulders. “If you need anything, anything, you come to me, understand?”

Zuko leaned forward, his smirk fading. “I can protect her.”

“Not from Azula,” Iroh said quietly. “You brought this girl here. Now you bear the responsibility.”

“I did just that last night,” Zuko snapped, his fingers tightening around his cup.

Before Iroh could reply, a servant glided over with a tray. “Your hot water and tea, General Iroh.”

“Ah, thank you!” Iroh beamed, pouring himself a cup with ceremonial care. The steam curled upward, carrying the scent of jasmine. He turned back to Zuko, his tone shifting. “Have you spoken with Ozai?”

The air thickened.

“Not yet,” Zuko said, his voice flat. “I’m meeting him in the war room after this. And before you ask, yes, I’ll see the Avatar first.”

Iroh’s expression darkened. “Be careful, Zuko. Your father has been a serpent in the grass far longer than you’ve been a man.”

Zuko’s jaw twitched. “I know.”

“Well, look what we have here,” a razor-edged voice cut through the garden.

Azula strode onto the terrace, her armor gleaming like freshly spilled blood. Her eyes raked over the trio, lingering on Katara with predatory interest. “How was your first night back in your own bed, Zuzu? Soft enough after three years of ship cots?”

Zuko leaned back, his grin sharp. “It was fine. You could’ve joined us if you were feeling… scared.”

Azula’s smile froze. “I don’t get scared.”

“Of course not,” Zuko purred. “You’re a big girl now, *Azuzu*.”

“Stop. Calling. Me. That.” Azula’s voice dripped venom.

Zuko burst into laughter, a rich, mocking sound that echoed off the garden walls. “Zuko is just teasing you, Azuzu,” another voice rumbled.

The Fire Lord emerged from the shadows, his presence suffocating the sunlight. Ozai’s blood red robes shimmered with threads of gold. “Good morning, family. It has been such a long time since I have seen you all together like this.”

“Father,” Zuko and Azula intoned in unison.

“Brother,” Iroh added, his cheer brittle.

Ozai’s gaze settled on Katara. “And who is this?”

Azula opened her mouth to speak. “Funny enough father, she is…“ Zuko cut her off.

“Careful, Azula.” He said.

The warning was mild, almost conversational, but Azula stiffened as if struck.

Zuko turned to Ozai, his voice smooth. “Her name is Katara. I found her in the Southern Water Tribe, fighting alongside the Avatar. She caught my eye.” He shrugged, as if discussing a trinket. “A man at sea needs… companionship.”

Katara’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to stare at her plate.

Ozai tilted his head. “Beautiful as can be seen, yes. But you claim she’s a fighter. Why not chain her?”

Zuko smirked. “Chains ruin the aesthetics. It goes against her purpose to have her around in rusty old and heavy chains. Besides…” He sipped his tea, his eyes glinting. “her brother’s rotting in my brig. If she misbehaves, he dies. Simple.”

Iroh’s knuckles whitened around his cup. Katara’s breath hitched, Zuko’s lie was too convincing, too cold.

Ozai chuckled, a sound like embers crumbling. “Efficient. But remember, Zuko, pets bite back when provoked far enough.”

Zuko met his father’s gaze. “Not if you break them first.”

The Fire Lord’s smile widened. “We’ll discuss your… strategies in the war room.”

As Ozai turned to leave, Azula shot Zuko a look of pure loathing. Katara stared at her hands, the bread turning to ash in her mouth.

The game, it seemed, was far from over.

---

The palace corridors swallowed them whole, their footsteps echoing against walls lined with tapestries of Fire Lords past, faces frozen in conquest, flames licking at their heels. Zuko walked briskly, Katara trailing a half-step behind, her eyes darting to every shadow.

“You lied to your father,” she hissed, breaking the silence. “You made it sound like Sokka is already dead.”

Zuko didn’t slow. “If you believe what you say is true, so will everyone else. That’s how this works.”

“And if I don’t play along?”

He glanced back, his gaze slicing through her. “Then your brother becomes the lie.”

Katara’s fists clenched, but she said nothing.

The stairwell to the dungeons was guarded by a hulking firebender, his armor scorched from training. He snapped to attention at Zuko’s approach.

“Prince Zuko,” the guard grunted, eyeing Katara. “Orders require all visitors to be searched.”

Zuko spread his arms, his voice edged with impatience. “Search me. But touch her, and I’ll melt your gauntlets to your skin.”

The guard hesitated, then waved a hand over Zuko’s robes with perfunctory sweeps. When he turned to Katara, Zuko stepped between them.

“Her loyalty is mine to vouch for. Understood?”

The guard bowed stiffly. “Of course, Your Highness.”

As they descended, Katara muttered, “You enjoy this, don’t you? The threats, the power.”

Zuko smirked. “Power is only as real as the fear behind it. Remember that.”

The second landing was narrower, lit by flickering torches. A younger guard stood here, her eyes sharp but nervous.

“Prince Zuko,” she said, voice trembling. “The Avatar’s cell requires dual verification. Your seal… and a password.”

Zuko leaned in, his tone icy. “The password is ‘Let me through, or I’ll have your commander flay you alive.’”

The guard palmed a lever, the wall shuddering open. “A-apologies, Prince!”

Katara waited until they were out of earshot. “You’re reckless. What if she’d called your bluff?”

“Bluffs only fail when you doubt yourself,” Zuko said. “And I don’t.”

‘Not in this world at least,’ he thought.

The final guard was an aging veteran, his face scarred and weary. He eyed Zuko with a mix of respect and suspicion.

“Prince,” he said, blocking the iron gate. “The Fire Lord’s orders: no one enters without his direct approval.”

Zuko’s voice dropped to a growl. “My father’s orders also state that the Avatar’s fate rests with me. Or would you like to explain to Fire Lord Ozai why his heir was delayed?”

The guard’s jaw tightened, but he stepped aside. “Your funeral, boy.”

As the door clanged shut behind them, Katara grabbed Zuko’s arm. “How do you expect to get Aang out of here? There are layers of guards, seals, passwords,”

Zuko yanked free. “You think I’d drag you to the capital without a plan? The Fire Nation’s obsession with order is its weakness. Every system has cracks.”

“And if they kill him before you find yours?”

“We have enough time,”

Within a few minutes they reached the end of the dungeon.

Aang sat cross-legged in the center of a circular chamber, his wrists chained to the floor with glowing red cuffs. The air reeked of damp stone and ash.

“Katara!” He lunged forward, chains clanking. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, kneeling beside him. “What about you?”

Aang forced a smile. “They ask a lot of questions. ‘Where are the Air Temples secrets hidden?’ ‘How many waterbenders are really left in the south?’ I just… meditated.”

Zuko leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “They won’t risk killing you. Not yet.”

Aang’s smile faded. “Why?”

“Because if you die, the Avatar cycle continues. The next one will be born in the Water Tribe tomorrow, most likely the all mighty powerful Northern Water Tribe. They’d have to start this war all over again.” Zuko pushed off the wall, his voice lowering. “But my father’s no fool. He’ll consult the sages, find a way to end the cycle permanently.”

Katara stood, her voice trembling. “Then we get him out. Now.”

Zuko’s eyes flicked to the ceiling, where the faint hum of machinery pulsed. “Not yet. Like I said, we have time. I still haven’t been officially crowned as the Crowned Prince.”

Aang frowned. “You know you could have left me here and gone on to claim your throne.”

For a heartbeat, Zuko’s mask slipped—a flash of something raw, almost pained. “Remember our deal Aang, when you leave this place. Forget about me claiming the throne, I just need you take care of your side of the deal.”

Katara stepped closer. “What deal?”

He turned away. “Ask me again when your brother’s free.”

As they retreated up the stairs, Aang called after them, “Zuko—!”

The prince paused.

“Thank you.”

Zuko didn’t look back. “Save it for when we’re all alive tomorrow.”

[A/N: Can’t wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on .com/saiyanprincenovels.]