The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 24: The Princess Returns

The first thing Zuko felt was pain.

It was not the sharp, searing kind that exploded through the body. No, this was dull, grinding, and relentless. Like a hand wrapped around his lungs, pressing down. Every breath scraped the inside of his ribs like sandpaper. Every muscle ached with bruises. The burns, though bandaged, itched with a maddening pulse that seemed synced to his heartbeat.

He lay there for a moment on his cot, staring at the low wooden ceiling of his private quarters. The light bleeding through the small porthole was pale, filtered through thick morning mist.

The tray beside him held a bowl of rice, a half-steamed bun, and a slice of dried seaweed. His breakfast. Untouched.

He couldn’t bring himself to eat it.

When he tried to sit up, the pain made his body freeze. Not out of fear but defiance. His body had limits. He didn’t.

The knock came just as he was adjusting his robe, one hand still braced over his bandaged ribs.

Knock. Knock.

“Come on in,” he said, voice hoarse and thin. Not sharp. Not commanding. Just… tired.

The door creaked open. Zuko expected Rin, or perhaps Lee bringing some mind-numbing logistical update.

Instead, it was her.

Hinaro.

Still in Fire Nation uniform, still walking like she’d rather be anywhere else. Her hands were behind her back, posture stiff. No bow. No pause.

“Lieutenant Commander Donji is here,” she said. “He’s arrived on board to debrief and discuss the next phase of operations.”

Zuko blinked.

“Not even a good morning?” he said, forcing his back straight, jaw twitching from the strain.

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s a horrible morning. Like every morning I’m not on Kyoshi.”

Zuko nodded slightly. “Fair enough.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait,” he said.

She stopped. Glanced over her shoulder.

“Come back in,” he said casually. “We need to talk.”

Hinaro stepped inside fully and closed the door behind her. Her expression didn’t change. She was wary, but not afraid. Not yet.

Zuko shifted on the cot, wincing as he reached for his bowl and took a bite of the cold rice. Swallowing was like dragging fire down his throat. Still, he chewed and forced it down.

“So,” he began, with all the casual air of a man asking about the weather. “About this plan of yours…”

She blinked. “What plan?”

“I’d suggest you be careful,” he continued, chewing again, wincing just slightly. “If you don’t give me a reason to be, I won’t be the bad guy.”

He looked at her now. Calm. Collected. His face unreadable.

“But if you force my hand…” He paused. “Well. I promise you. Your whole world will go down in flames.”

Hinaro held her ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zuko didn’t flinch. Didn’t frown. He just looked at her with the faintest trace of amusement.

“Oh, I know you do,” he said. “There’s always a plan. Everyone has a plan. That’s the only real constant in this game we’re all playing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “There is no plan, Zuko.”

He tilted his head.

“You’re lying better than before. I’ll give you that.”

“I’m not lying,” she said, and this time her voice cracked just slightly. Not with emotion. With conviction.

Zuko took another bite of the now-cold bun. It felt like eating clay, but he swallowed anyway.

“Well,” he said between chews. “Let me tell you this, Hinaro. There are a lot of players already in this war. Kuvak. Azula. My father. The Earth Kingdom generals. That pirate bastard. Everyone’s already making their moves. But…”

He swallowed, face tightening for half a second. Then he smiled. Genuinely.

“None of them. Not one. Has the slightest idea what I have in store.”

He leaned back, exhaling slowly through his nose.

The room was quiet.

His smile faded to something softer. More neutral.

“You can go now. I’ll be out in a few.”

Hinaro didn’t speak.

She turned.

Opened the door.

But before she stepped out, she glanced back at him just once. Her face was unreadable, her eyes unreadable.

But she left.

And Zuko sat there, body aching, breakfast uneaten, fire in his chest barely held at bay.

It took Zuko longer than he wanted to rise from the cot. He pulled on his formal crimson overcoat, one shoulder stiff with dried blood and fastened it at the collar with slow, deliberate movements. The dull ache in his ribs flared every time he turned, but he forced the pain down. Pain was constant. Pain was predictable. It reminded him he was still alive.

He stepped out of his quarters into the brisk sea wind, walking the short corridor to the ship’s middeck war room. The wooden door was already open, the fire lanterns inside glowing gently against the emerald light spilling through the narrow portholes.

Rin stood at the table, already reviewing the province map etched into a sand-table. He looked up with a slight nod as Zuko entered.

Lieutenant Commander Donji was also present now, early thirties, sharp-eyed, with a war-cut beard and a bandage across his temple. He saluted quickly and bowed as Zuko approached.

Three more soldiers stood by the wall. One was a communications officer. Another, a grizzled sergeant with burn-scars along his left arm held a stack of parchment reports. The last was an ensign from the repair teams, oil still smeared across his sleeves.

Zuko moved to the center of the table, nodded once, and spoke.

“Begin.”

Rin gave a respectful bow, then gestured to the ensign.

“First, an update from the eastern quarter,” Rin said. “Casualty reports and infrastructure damage. Commander Donji?”

Donji motioned the sergeant forward. The man stepped up with the practiced precision of someone used to bad news.

“Of the garrison troops stationed here before the siege,” the sergeant began, “we’ve lost eighty-three confirmed dead, two hundred seventeen wounded, with fifty-eight of those still in critical condition.”

Zuko said nothing. His expression didn’t change.

The man continued. “Local militia reinforcements brought in by General Rulo are faring better. Thirty-four minor injuries among them. But morale is low.”

“Because they didn’t see Fong fight,” Rin muttered. “They only saw us bleed.”

Zuko glanced down at the map.

“Harbor?” he asked. Not bothering entertaining the extra antics.

The repair officer stepped forward next.

“Four shipping cranes destroyed. Two warehouses burned to ash. One partially collapsed and unusable. One causeway completely destabilized. Our engineers say we can reinforce the docking piers, but only with proper material, mostly we need steel rivets, pressure-treated beams, fireproof mortar, and bulk copper for our lifting mechanisms.”

He hesitated.

“We’ll also need dry rations. More than half of the stored rice was destroyed in the fighting. Fresh vegetables are scarce. Locals have begun restricting trade, worried we won’t hold the province.”

“Of course they are,” Zuko muttered. “They’re betting on the stronger horse.”

Donji straightened. “There’s a win we can give them, my prince.”

Zuko raised a brow.

“Supply hawk returned this morning. Admiral Kuvak received our messages. A resupply ship is en route, estimated arrival by sundown.”

Rin nodded. “He also said that due to the urgency, Princess Azula will be arriving aboard the same vessel. Apparently, she insisted.”

Zuko’s gaze darkened.

“Of course she did.” He said. Letting out along sigh afterwards.

He stepped to the map table, fingers tracing the northern approach routes.

“And what of the Earth Kingdom?”

Donji answered quickly.

“We believe General Fong has pulled back to one of his forest encampments, roughly fifteen kilometers west. Our scouts tracked his retreat, but his trail vanished in the thick of the jungle. He’s waiting. Planning.”

Zuko nodded. “And reinforcements?”

The communications officer stepped forward this time, saluting first.

“We intercepted a land-runner two hours ago near the edge of the rice marshes. Carried Earth Kingdom seal, coded message. Not for us, but it was bound north.”

Zuko looked up. “To Omashu.”

“Yes, my prince,” the man said. “To King Bumi.”

Zuko exhaled slowly, jaw flexing.

Donji folded his arms. “We believe General Fong has formally petitioned the King to send more troops.”

Rin added, “There’s more. We have reason to believe the Avatar is there in Omashu.”

That changed the air in the room.

Even the officers along the wall glanced at each other.

Zuko remained still.

“He’s already being welcomed by the King?” Zuko asked, voice low.

“It appears so,” Rin answered. “We don’t know in what capacity, whether as a guest or a tool but if Bumi is truly sheltering the Avatar, the Earth Kingdom will feel emboldened.”

Zuko’s fingers curled over the edge of the map table.

“Good,” he muttered.

Rin raised a brow. “Good?”

“If he’s there… then I know where he’ll be.”

No one said anything for a moment.

Then the repair officer broke the silence again.

“There’s one last report, my prince. From the western scout patrols.”

He stepped forward, unfurled a coastal chart, and pointed to a red-sketched mark etched just south of a cove.

“A large vessel, black sails, wide hull, running low on the sea. Likely a converted galleon. No insignias. Doesn’t match Earth Kingdom or Fire Navy registries.”

“Pirates,” Donji said.

“Likely,” the scout officer agreed. “But they’re not making landfall. Just sitting in open water. Watching.”

Zuko said nothing.

Rin didn’t blink.

If they noticed the flicker of recognition in Zuko’s eyes, they said nothing about it.

Donji exhaled. “I say we send a warning ship to investigate.”

“No,” Zuko said, finally speaking. “We wait.”

Donji frowned. “My prince?”

“If they haven’t moved, then let them rot where they are. We’ve got a wounded city, a half-starved port, and an Earth Kingdom general sharpening his stones in the forest. Let the pirates play lookout.”

Rin nodded subtly. “Better not to antagonize them unless they act first.”

Zuko turned to the window.

The mist outside was slowly lifting.

Sunlight was breaking through in ribbons over the harbor.

Beyond the docks, black smoke still curled faintly where ruins had once been homes.

And far out, just past the horizon… he knew a ship waited. Like a hungry wolf.

Tsu wouldn’t move yet.

But he would.

Soon.

As the day continued, the war room slowly emptied after the final command was given. Reports were gathered, salutes offered, boots marched out in tight formation. Zuko remained behind, silent at the table, his hand resting near the sand-table’s edge. Rin lingered beside him, arms crossed.

The scent of ash still lingered on Zuko’s uniform. Beneath his coat, the bandages around his torso tightened with every breath.

The weight of what lay ahead settled on them both.

And then…

The silence was broken.

Boom.

A dull thud rippled from outside followed by the heavy groan of the harbor’s eastern gate chain retracting.

Rin looked up. “Supply ship.”

Zuko didn’t move. His eyes remained fixed on the map.

“Admiral Kuvak’s sending early I suppose?” he asked.

“I doubt Kuvak himself would even travel on a supply run,” Rin replied. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he sent someone some one else to accmpany the princess.”

Another thud echoed, this time louder, sharper. Metallic boots against the wooden pier.

Zuko finally turned toward the door. He didn’t need a report.

He already knew.

They stood at the top of the gangplank, three figures descending from the black-streaked supply ship.

The harbor, still smoldering at the edges, fell quiet around them.

At the front was Azula.

She walked with calm purpose, her movements precise, even as her cloak billowed behind her. Her golden eyes scanned the harbor with cool calculation, noting every crumbled wall, every bent beam, every smudge of ash. Her high-collared royal Fire Nation uniform shimmered with polished embroidery. Her hair was as perfect as ever, tied back with a band of obsidian silk. Her boots didn’t make a sound.

Behind her, moving like a hummingbird across the deck, was Ty Lee, all cheerful bounce and open curiosity, her pink uniform standing out like a flower in a burned field.

And to her left, cloaked in melancholy and silence, walked Mai. Hands in her sleeves. Boredom already written across her pale face. Her every step was quiet. Controlled. Her eyes never stopped scanning the shadowed corners of the shipyard.

Zuko stood at the edge of the pier, arms folded, Rin just behind him. The tension between them was as palpable as the rising heat in the afternoon sun.

Azula reached the end of the dock and paused a few paces away.

She didn’t bow.

She smiled.

“Brother.”

Zuko’s mouth twitched. “Azula.”

Her smile widened, though it never reached her eyes.

“I see you’ve been having a rough couple of days,” she said, glancing at the scorched crane in the background. “I should’ve known you’d dive headfirst into the fire without a helmet.”

“Some of us don’t need helmets,” he replied. “We fight. We bleed. Then we win.”

Ty Lee waved enthusiastically. “Hi, Zuko!”

Mai just nodded once in vague acknowledgment.

Zuko’s eyes flicked between them. “I wasn’t informed you’d be traveling as a unit.”

Azula stepped past the last plank and onto the stone.

“Oh, you know how it is,” she said casually. “Father wanted to keep a close eye on the ‘Crown Prince’ and his growing ambitions. He sent me. I brought company.”

Rin’s gaze narrowed slightly behind Zuko, but he said nothing.

Zuko exhaled through his nose.

“How nice,” he said flatly.

Azula looked around, then raised her brow slightly. “So this is Nan-Hai. Not exactly postcard material. I’m surprised you haven’t set it on fire yet.”

“It’s already burning,” Zuko said. “You’re just in time.”

Ty Lee leaned in, looking at one of the Fire Nation soldiers standing off to the side. “So… are we winning?”

“No,” Rin answered bluntly. “We’re surviving.”

Mai looked at the smoldering remains of a warehouse. “That sounds like something Zuko would do.”

Azula stepped in closer, eyes studying her brother’s face. She saw the stiffness in his stance, the pain masked behind discipline, the bandages just barely concealed beneath his coat.

“You fought General Fong,” she said, like it was a passing comment. “And lived.”

Zuko didn’t respond.

Azula tilted her head slightly, smile sharpening. “I heard it was impressive. Father will want a full report. I’m sure you’ll… dramatize it well.”

Zuko met her gaze evenly. “You’re welcome to attend the next duel and write your own.”

Ty Lee laughed nervously. “I think I’ll stay in the back with the medics.”

Azula turned slightly, her long coat trailing behind her. “Well then. I assume you’ve arranged quarters for us.”

Zuko motioned vaguely toward the western dockside garrison.

“Rin will show you.”

“Excellent,” she said, her tone sweetly venomous. “We’ll talk later, big brother. So much to catch up on.”

She turned with a snap of her cloak, Ty Lee skipping behind her, Mai trailing without a word.

Only once they were gone did Zuko let out the breath he’d been holding.

Rin muttered under his breath, “That’s going to go well.”

Zuko didn’t answer.

He simply stared after them, face unreadable.

[A/N: Read 15 to 20 chapters ahead available right now on .com/saiyanprincenovels.com.]