The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 40: The Moon’s Bargain

The lower decks of the Silent Shadow were a world of muted sounds and cold, recycled air. The hum of the engines was a constant, distant presence here, more felt than heard. Zuko stopped before a heavy, riveted door flanked by two Kyoshi warriors. He gave a curt nod, and they stepped aside, their painted faces unreadable.

Katara was at his elbow, her presence a warm, insistent pressure. “I’m coming in.”

“No, you’re not,” Zuko said, his voice low. “This needs to be private.”

“Private?” Katara’s blue eyes flashed. “Zuko, if we’re… if this is real, then I should be part of it. All of it. Not just the parts you pick and choose. And she’s my princess. My people’s future. If something happens to her, how do I face Chief Arnook? How do I face my father?”

Zuko turned to face her fully. In the dim corridor light, his scar was a stark topography of past pain, his eyes pools of shadowed gold. He just stared, his expression unreadable, the silence stretching between them taut as a bowstring.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t make me regret this, Katara.”

He didn’t wait for her response. He turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The room beyond was small but not a cell. It was a converted officer’s quarters. A narrow bunk was built into the wall, a small desk was bolted to the floor, and a single, shielded candle in a glass lantern cast a warm, dancing light. The air smelled of clean linen, faintly of sea salt, and the waxy scent of the candle.

On the bunk, sitting with her back straight against the wall, was Princess Yue. Her snow-white hair, with its single dark streak, cascaded over her shoulders. She wore simple, undyed woolen robes, a stark contrast to the silks and furs of the North Pole. In her hands was a book, a Water Tribe historical text, its pages worn. She wasn’t reading. She was waiting.

As the door opened, she didn’t look up. Her voice, clear and calm as a frozen lake, filled the small space.

“So. The time has finally come, Mister Foreigner.”

Zuko stopped dead in the doorway. His mouth fell open, a crack in the prince’s composed armor so profound it was almost comical. In that single sentence, she had torn away the veil. She didn’t just suspect; she knew. And she had just declared that knowledge in front of Katara.

Bringing her was the biggest mistake I have made since I came into this body.

The thought was a cold spike of pure, tactical horror. He had miscalculated catastrophically.

He saw Katara freeze beside him, her head whipping from Yue’s serene face to his stunned one.

It lasted only a heartbeat. Zuko’s jaw snapped shut. The shock was replaced by a chilling, focused intensity. He took a step into the room, his posture shifting from surprised visitor to sovereign in his own domain.

“Careful, Princess,” he said, his voice a low, stern warning. “You wouldn’t want to make an enemy out of me.”

Yue finally lifted her eyes from the book. They were pale blue, luminous and knowing. “Is your warning because Katara is also here?” she asked, her tone one of pure academic curiosity.

“Yes,” Zuko answered immediately, no point in dissembling now. “Only one other person knows. Aang.”

“I know,” Yue said, setting the book aside. “He and I had a long discussion about you before the siege began.”

“What is going on?” Katara’s voice cut through, sharp with confusion and a dawning anger. “What does she mean, ‘foreigner’? What do you know, Yue?”

Yue’s gaze shifted to Katara, and there was a flicker of pity in it. “I cannot reveal it without his permission,” she said softly. “It is not my secret to tell.”

Zuko turned to Katara, his expression grim. “I warned you to stay outside. I just didn’t want you to know things about her,” he gestured to Yue, “not about me. So forget it and move on. We are not here for that. We are here for something else.”

He looked back at Yue, his eyes narrowing. “Do I assume it has been the essence of the Moon Spirit within you that provided that little secret? Perhaps revealed by one of those pesky, annoying past Avatars?” He crossed his arms. “I am assuming it’s that fool Kuruk.”

A faint, almost imperceptible frown touched Yue’s lips. “Avatar Kuruk was a respected and powerful Avatar. And you, of all people, already know the truth of his life. Should you be calling him a fool?”

Zuko blinked, then let out a short, humorless breath. “You’re right.” He conceded with a tilt of his head. “Avatar Kuruk was a worthwhile Avatar. He sacrificed himself battling dark spirits for a world that hated him for not solving their little problems. And that annoying bitch Kyoshi blamed him for the screwed-up state of the world.” He met Yue’s gaze. “So, in retrospect, you are right. Avatar Kuruk was a worthy Avatar.”

Katara was staring at Zuko as if he’d grown a second head. “How… how the hell do you know these things, Zuko? These aren’t in scrolls! These are… spirits and past Avatars and…”

“I read,” Zuko said, the lie flat and automatic, but his eyes were still locked on Yue’s. He had to regain control of this spiraling conversation.

But Katara wasn’t finished. The emotional dam broke. “I don’t get it, Zuko!” she said, her voice rising. “You confessed your feelings for me. We slept together. You slept with Azula long before that, don’t think I don’t know and I know you’re planning to sleep with the Princess as well!” She stepped closer, her eyes shining with furious tears. “So what can I do? What do I have to be for you to finally trust me?”

The room fell into a thick, painful silence. Zuko went utterly still, his gaze finally leaving Yue to settle on Katara. He just stared, his face a mask of conflicted stone, weighing the trust she pleaded for against the world-shattering truth he guarded.

Into that silence, Yue’s voice came again, cool and curious. “You are planning to sleep with me?” She didn’t sound offended, or flattered. She sounded like a scholar presented with an unexpected but fascinating data point. “I had assumed you were only interested in the spirit essence of the Moon Spirit within me.”

Zuko’s eyes snapped back to her. The directness was disarming. In for a penny, in for a pound. He let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing into something more like resigned honesty.

“You are an attractive and well-educated young woman,” he stated, as if listing qualifications. “With a potential for bending not even you know you possess. So yes. I plan to add you to my harem.”

Katara made a choked sound. Yue simply absorbed the statement, her head tilting slightly.

“I see,” she said. “And the essence?”

“That is why I am here,” Zuko said, stepping fully into the center of the room. The prince was gone; the strategist was in command. “I need a fraction of the Moon Spirit’s blessing that lives within you. Not all of it. Not enough to harm you or sever your connection. Just enough to… fortify my own spirit. To prepare it to accept a gift from an older power.”

“A gift?” Yue asked.

“A second element,” Zuko said, and the words hung in the candlelit air, absurd and terrifying.

Yue’s placid expression finally cracked, revealing a glimpse of sheer, stunned wonder. “A second… you seek to become like the Avatar?”

“No,” Zuko said sharply. “The Avatar is a fusion, an accident of destiny. I seek a grant. A deliberate bestowal from the source of all bending. But my spirit, as it is, is fire-forged and rigid. To hold another element, it needs to be more… elastic. Resilient. The Moon Spirit’s essence, gentle, sustaining, adaptable, is the perfect tempering agent.”

He walked to the small desk, placing his hands on it, leaning forward. “I am not asking you to give it up. I am asking you to share it. To allow a small transfer, under controlled conditions, with the aid of the Spirit Oasis water and the presence of the being we are currently visiting.”

“The Lion Turtle,” Yue whispered, her eyes going distant, as if listening to a voice only she could hear. “You found one.”

“We are beside it now.”

Yue was silent for a long time, looking down at her hands. When she looked up, her gaze was clear and decisive. “And if I do this? If I help you become this… dual-bender? What is my place? Am I a prisoner who donates her spirit? Or am I a princess in your court? A wife in your harem? A tool, or a person?”

Zuko straightened. “You are a person of high value and unique capability. Your place would be what you earn. But it would start with safety, respect, and a share in the power we build. You would not be a prisoner. You would be a founding member of a new order.”

He looked from her to Katara, whose face was a storm of hurt, jealousy, and reluctant understanding. “Both of you would.”

Yue considered him, her luminous eyes seeing past the prince, past the strategist, perhaps even past Victor, to the desperate, calculating soul beneath. “You ask for a piece of my spirit, Prince Zuko. In return, I ask for your oath. Not just my safety. But your vow that you will never use this power to harm the Northern Water Tribe, or the balance of the world the Avatar seeks to protect.”

“You have my word,” Zuko said without hesitation.

“And,” Yue added, her voice dropping, “you will tell Katara the truth. The real truth of who you are. Not from me. From you. She has earned that much and so should your sister.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Katara, who was staring at him, hope and fear warring in her eyes. The perimeter was crumbling. The wall around his origin was being breached not by force, but by the quiet, inevitable logic of trust and consequence.

After a long, heavy moment, he gave a single, slow nod.

“When the time is right,” he said. “After this is done.”

Yue held his gaze, then gave a small, regal nod of her own. “Then we have an agreement. When do we begin?”

“At the next full moon in a few days time,” Zuko said. “On the back of the Lion Turtle.”

He turned and left the room, the weight of the bargains just struck with Yue, with Katara, with his own secrets, settling on his shoulders heavier than any crown.

Katara lingered for a second, looking at Yue, a thousand unspoken words passing between them. Then she followed Zuko out, leaving the Moon-Touched princess alone in the candlelight, a faint, thoughtful smile on her lips.