Chapter Text
Luck has never been his ally, and one might even argue that luck wasn’t even an acquaintance. If luck was a person, he’d be a stranger walking by him in the middle of a busy street, only to pass him by and go towards someone else. But today, this stranger put a heel under his foot, and sent him tumbling down the road and face first into a cement wall, for better or for worse, driving him off his current path in life. Who could have known that one event would change his entire life? At least, Zuko wasn’t the one who had the sight to guess what would come from all this.
“STUPID OCEAN,”
He spluttered, instantly regretting opening his mouth as a thick wave of salty water hit him splat in the face. He had managed to pry his armor off despite being half dragged under water, and even with the cold freezing his fingers down to the bone, he couldn’t allow himself to simply drown. The storm raged on with no end, both snow and water hitting against his face like knives. For something as small as a snowflake, it sure had the ability to slice open the flesh with no mercy. His cheeks and eyes stung, and his lungs struggled as he desperately fought to keep the saltwater out of his nose and throat. The waves all around were higher than the imperial palace walls, taunting him with death every time they crashed down on him from above.
“I’m going to fucking evaporate this shit the moment I’m out of it,” He muttered through gritted teeth. How he would manage to take out his vengeance on an ocean, that part of the plan conveniently slipped his mind.
How had he even managed to put himself in this position? Oh, that’s right, he fell off over the side of the rails like an amateur after fighting tooth and nail against pirates who invaded their ship. If only it wasn’t storming, he would have actually won and skinned those bastards and their yapping parrots alive, but alas, the wind and rain had different plans for him. He almost couldn’t decide what was worse; the fact that he would drown out here like an idiot, or that he saw a ship heading his way from a distance.
Under normal circumstances, he would have been somewhat glad that a ship would save him from painful death…but today, even with one of his eyes blind and scarred, and the other full of seawater, he could see just fine what nation that ship belonged to.
Water Tribe.
North, South, it didn’t matter. Not to him. The very sight of a wooden hull in the distance made a sour bile rise up in his throat. He supposed it wasn’t half as bad as seeing a fellow Fire Nation ship, but given how he was getting pummeled by the waves like a soaking rat, he wasn’t exactly excited at being seen like this by anyone at all.
He swore and turned away from the ship, trying to very fruitlessly swim in the opposite direction. Getting absolutely nowhere except for ten meters back from where he began, clearly, he decided the waves favored the water tribe more. Still, he would rather take his chances with the ocean than he would with other people.
Swish
“GET OFF ME!”
A thick net fell over his body. He struggled like a mad dog, scratching and shoving as he got lifted out of the water, bundled in the thick ropes. Humiliation burned hot like flames in his cheeks.
The fish net rose over the rail of the ship, plopping him down on the wooden floor on the deck. Zuko spluttered and coughed, his hands shaking once he finally found a solid grip on the ground. He heard footsteps coming closer to him, and before any man or beast could lay their hands on him, he twisted around and blasted a line of fire into the air, burning the net off his body.
He jumped straight up to his feet, swaying just a little as he forced his eyesight to adjust amidst the rain. Raising his hands above his waist, he glared about him, his stare falling onto the faces of shocked water tribe warriors standing in stupor around him. They were dressed in hues of blue, with heavy fur draped over their shoulders and down their waists. White and gray paint marred their faces, disguising their true expressions.
His gaze fell onto one man in particular. He stepped closer to him, extending his arm in front of the crew behind him, as if that would do absolutely anything against fire. As Zuko looked beyond the warpaint, he was met with the most brilliant of blue eyes he had ever seen. They were cold and weary, maybe even a little tired, but Zuko was no fool. Those were the eyes of a leader. Eyes that resembled Azula's just a tinge too much. Like he knew things ahead of others…Zuko bristled at the thought, instinctively raising his hands higher.
“You think you can just reel me in? Just like that?!”
His eyes narrowed and his voice rose above the rolling waves. The gold in his eyes shone even in the dim light, displaying his nationality for all to bear witness. But he refused to hide those eyes, no, he will bear them with pride, for the gold was the color of his nation. He wondered, did the gold scare the man in front of him? Maybe not, maybe yes. Or maybe, if he tried hard enough, it would.
“You are...from the Fire Nation,” It was more of a statement than a question, aimed at his appearance as the man looked him up and down slowly. What the hell is he looking at?!
“Damn straight I am,” Zuko spat, trying to keep the traitorous tremble out his voice, “I am—”
A hand grabbed at him from behind. Zuko whipped around and shot a blast of hot, burning fire blindly in the direction of the touch. He heard a scream and scramble, and yet from his blind side, it was hard to tell exactly who or what he shot. How did they get behind me? Or were they there already? Zuko stumbled backwards, hitting the rails, his gaze jumping back and forth between every man on board. He pressed his back into the wooden rail, his body shivering slightly beneath his clothes.
I have to get out of this.
He threw a glance below him at the ocean. The water was still churning, its waves cold and unforgiving. Jumping back there…it would be a death sentence. But staying up here….it would also undoubtedly be a death sentence. He turned back to that blue eyed warrior in front of him. He tried to think fast, forcing his brain to come up with anything viable at all. How does one even get out of this situation? Despite every frantic thought, one single sentence kept slamming into him in the back of his skull.
What would his father do? Nay, what would his sister do? That was the more accurate question, wasn't it? Yes, if Azula was here, she would have manipulated the living daylights out of these men, even better, she wouldn't have been in this damn position to begin with. Of course, out of everyone, Zuko had to be the one unlucky enough to be stuck in this way. A sickening feeling of failure pressed into him, but he shook his head, willing it to go away.
Now wasn't the time…now he had to, had to scrap something together, something that would—
“---I AM prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, son of his Majesty Fire Lord Ozai and Lady Ursa. Brother to princess Azula and nephew to the Dragon of the West. If you want me dead, then dare to try.”
He spat out his title like it was some repetitive text that he stated daily, a title that perhaps he didn’t really deserve, but wanted to live up to so desperately. He eyed the men's reactions, which were stiff and jagged as they took a few steps away from him. The man in front of him, the one with the eerily sharp gaze, clenched his fist, his grip on his weapon tightening. Did that…work? It had some effect on them. He was doing something right.
“Don’t come closer,” He hissed through gritted teeth. Zuko dug his heels onto the deck. He was cold and wet and tired, he was a failure and a disappointment, but damned he would be if he stopped fighting.
The warriors simply stood there, perhaps waiting for Zuko to collapse somehow and die. Maybe from the cold, maybe from the rain, or maybe from both. At the very least, Zuko felt it was familiar. It seemed there were always people waiting for him to die or fail.
As he stared at them, they stared back, their eyes hard as ice and cruel as the ocean. They stood all around him, their hands on their weapons and their stances prepared for battle. Their large forms loomed over him, and Zuko tried hard not to imagine the sheer muscle strength that these warriors probably had. They were strong and wild, men that lived up in the poles and skinned animals with their bare hands. Zuko didn’t doubt for a second that those same hands will now want to skin him alive as well.
But he refused to show fear. Father wouldn’t want him to. Azula would laugh at him if he did, and Uncle…uncle would pretend like it was a good thing. Like it made Zuko better, wiser, more human. But Zuko knew that it wasn’t true. Fear was a weakness, and uncle just didn’t know it. Or he did and he just didn’t want to accept it. But Zuko will accept it, and he will overcome it.
He spat at the warriors surrounding him, sparks flying out of his mouth. Although he hadn’t realized it, he began to practice the breath of fire, trying to stay warm despite the biting cold that was seeping into his bones. He stood quietly, forcing his body to stop shaking, to stop displaying the very obvious weakness he had against their cold environment.
Suddenly, he heard the voice of the blue-eyed warrior speak up in front of him.
“Prince Zuko,” He began, and Zuko blinked at him in surprise. His voice was cold and cautious as if he had planned his words before he said them. But then again, if Zuko’s instincts were correct, then he was the leader of this pack of men. And a leader must always know what to say before he says it. Like Azula, like a father.
“You are on our ship now. It will serve you well to lay down your stance, else my warriors will be forced to fight you.”
A sudden unspoken threat passed through the air. Lay down or my warriors will kill you. Perhaps the man hadn’t said it directly, but Zuko was damn sure that’s what he meant.
“Surrender now, Prince Zuko, and we won’t hurt you.”
Surrender? No, a prince never surrenders. His father will never forgive him if he did. Zuko glared at him, ignoring the fact that the man was quite literally twice his size.
“I am a prince of the Fire Nation,” Zuko repeated as if that statement will speak for itself about how beneath him surrender is.
“You will give me death, or I will give it to myself. But either way, I will not surrender to a handful of savages.”
It was an empty show of bravery, as much as Zuko hated to admit it. He wasn’t about to go jumping back in the water to die, but he also did not want to be killed by some water tribe warrior. He knew he shouldn’t be frightened of death; most Fire Nation soldiers would gladly slit their own throats if it meant staying loyal to their country. If those men and women were willing to do so, so should he. He was their prince for Agni’s sake! Granted, an exiled prince, but still.
The tension around him crackled like a fire, and he was very well aware that the warriors were moving to block his way from the railing on the opposite side.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the leader staring at him, or more specifically at his mouth. He was watching as flames flickered between Zuko’s lips, which were pale and blue from being out in the cold.
He glared right back, pointedly increasing his breath of fire. He won’t give up, he will fight. And if the chief thought otherwise, he was gravely mistaken.
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Tui and La. The kid was terrified. He was like a sealcat ready to spring at any sudden movement from the people on this ship.
If Hakoda knew that today was the day he would pull a Fire Nation prince out of the ocean, he probably would have never gotten out of his hammock. But now, as he looked at the shaking yet furious form of a human being, eyes wide and hands hiding a tremble, he knew his role as chief was driven into a tight corner.
It was almost impossible to believe that the boy was who he said he was, seeing as how soaked and tired he appeared. He was half the size of anyone on board, even Tomkin, who was supposed to be the youngest warrior amongst them. The boy’s hair was tied back into a raggedy ponytail, and his grey shirt clung messily to his skinny frame. A large scar marred half of his face, condemning his left eye to an eternal scowl. His right eye was opened wide, panic and determination mixing together in a wild combination.
But still, he noticed the way the boy held his shoulders back, his chin up, his stance practiced and solidified. And Hakoda most certainly did not miss the way he so readily voiced his title, how his loyalty was almost palpable as it rolled off his tongue. It was as if the boy was proud to be the prince of such a Nation.
But then again, he was Ozai’s son, at least, if the boy was to be believed. There was a high chance his statement could have been a heavy bluff. But who would think of a bluff this audacious so quickly under duress? Maybe the kid was just saying whatever came to mind in his head.
Maybe, of course, he was telling the truth. If Hakoda threw reason into the wind and decided to just believe him, then that would make the kid the son of the greatest tyrant in the world. A wild thing to even think of on a random Wednesday morning, and yet here they were. Still, whatever bluff the kid spit out, it didn’t take away from the fact that this was…ultimately, a teenager. A soaking, cold, angry teenager that they fished out of the sea. He was Fire Nation, that much at least was true, but beyond that, he was, well, a kid, he supposed. Someone who was spitting flames to appear stronger. Who threatened to jump the rail if his warriors didn’t kill him first.
Hakoda cursed silently, feeling just as cornered as the prince did. The panic on the boy’s face was evident, and Hakoda was sure that if he made one wrong move then there would be flames going everywhere. And flames on a wooden ship were certainly not something he could allow.
Trying to keep a calm tone he fruitlessly tried again, this time attempting a different approach. Yes, he was a Fire Nation royal,
maybe
, and he would indulge that if it meant keeping the flames away, but surely he was still human like the rest of them. At the very least, he had to try something else. Something that might work if Hakoda gave it thought, to not make the teenager panic and light everyone in flames.
“Prince Zuko, you’re tired.”