AN: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Hotspur, for helping make my Zhao the mendacious Admiral that he is, and to Sajira, for submitting the review that pushed me to finish.
Chapter Three: Going My Way
"What?" Iroh and Zuko exclaimed in unison.
Zhao looked confusedly at them. "The Royal family," he repeated.
Iroh stared blankly. Zuko scowled, "This joke of yours is not amusing, Zhao." How dare you even suggest my father replacing me! , thought Zuko heatedly.
"I'm not joking, Prince Zuko," Zhao answered. The Admiral had lost his look of confusion and was regaining his malicious composure. "Consort Sayuri bore Fire Lord Ozai a son almost two weeks ago. Surely even you were told about the addition to your . . . family."
Zuko's temper flared. "My father trusts me to bring him the Avatar so he can restore my place as Crown Prince! HE WOULD NOT REPLACE ME!"
Zhao smiled his supercilious smile, unphased by Zuko's outburst. "He already has," he stated, his eyes flashing with amusement.
"SHUT UP," Zuko shouted. All of the people on the docks had halted their work to watch the fight. "You are a lying, heartless, loathsome-"
"Prince Zuko! That's enough," Iroh interrupted. Zuko turned his head sharply to look at his uncle while Zhao's eyes merely shifted in the General's direction. "An honorable man does not engage in petty, childish arguments. It is beneath his dignity," Iroh continued while taking Zuko by the arm. Zuko offered no resistance; his uncle was right.
Besides, if Zhao takes my bait, he'll be out of the way long enough for me to get the Avatar to Azar and have my honor restored. Then we'll see how he copes, Zuko thought with some satisfaction. Remembering he still needed to plant the red herring in Zhao's mind, Zuko said audibly to his uncle, "Tell the helmsman to set a course northward. I'm going to meditate."
Iroh shot Zuko a brief questioning glance before nodding. "Very well, Prince Zuko. I shall inform Daisuke immediately. One moment though," he said pausing in the moment of departure. Zuko rolled his eyes while his uncle turned to Zhao once more. "Admiral, I'm sure I can speak for the rest of the Royal family when I say your gift is much appreciated. I commend you for being such a good servant and knowing your place."
Zhao's eyes darkened, but he briefly inclined his head downward in a bow. Iroh nodded and turned to leave. Zuko stared at his uncle's form as it made its way to the river boat. Inwardly, he was laughing with mirth. His uncle had just subjugated the proud Admiral Zhao! Zuko shot the officer a haughty glance before turning to follow his uncle to the river boat at the end of the dock.
Admiral Zhao stood rooted to the spot as he watched the prince climb aboard the small vessel while Iroh fueled up the engine. A few seconds later, the boat started to chug its way toward Zuko's ship. Zhao continued to watch as the boat reached the ship and shortly after, the ship raised its anchor.
Finally, Zhao turned from the sea and began to make his way through Croce, back to the encampment on the outskirts. Merchants shouted to passersby, farmers hauled their produce in wheelbarrows from one end of town to the other, children raced through the street while their mothers conversed by the fruit stands. Zhao paid no attention to these people as he walked through the market. Iroh's remark had been a major blow to his pride. Why had he even come to the market in the first place?
To find a gift for Ozai's new son, he answered himself. But having soldiers to command, he bade them to shop instead. Zhao had been waiting for a suitable offering from them at the docks when he spotted Prince Zuko.
He had approached the treacherous prince to have a little fun. Zuko always got so riled up when Zhao said the slightest insult. It was a power thing for Zhao. He had once had to take orders from that officious little boy, but now HE said when Zuko was out of line.
He had seen the prince's shoulders roll gently as a chuckle floated on the air. Zhao had to ask what Zuko possibly had to be happy about. He saw the teenager's form stiffen instantly at the sound of his voice. When Zuko turned around, Zhao was pleased to see annoyance etched in every line of Zuko's face.
Before he had a real chance to goad the traitor, General Iroh had joined the conversation. Zhao wasn't hesitant to keep antagonizing Zuko in front of Iroh, but the General's presence kept Zuko's temper from escalating to its fullest, preventing his eventual and inevitable arrest for assaulting a member of the Fire Militia. No matter, Zhao had thought.
But it had mattered. The old man was able to deter Zuko's rage before the prince did anything stupid. And to really spoil Zhao's good mood for the day, the fossil had slipped in that remark about knowing one's place. The words infuriated Zhao. He snorted a few sparks from his nose as he stormed through the crowded streets. How dare General Iroh lecture him! It was like being back with Master Jeong Jeong! As he passed by a vegetable cart, Zhao was suddenly struck with a powerful surge of violence. He whipped around and overturned the cart, smashing the wood and sending heads rolling through the street.
"MY CABBAGES!" the green clad merchant cried. Temporarily satisfied with the grief he had caused, Zhao turned and continued his walk.
The ground beneath Zhao's feet steadily changed from a paved street to a dusty path. The afternoon sky was free of clouds and the sun shone down hotly on Zhao's "slightly" receding hairline as he drew closer to camp.
A little way down the road, Zhao passed a small hutch. Sitting by the door, in a crumbling rocking chair, a young woman was holding her baby while another child tugged at her skirt for attention. The scene reminded him of the puzzling matter of Iroh and Zuko's reaction to the news of Ozai's new son. Zhao knew that the two disgraces were out of the loop, but were they so out of touch they weren't alerted to the birth of a direct relative?
It would appear so. Zhao chortled at the memory of Zuko's face. The scab had been so confused. He would never admit to himself that Ozai hates him. Zuko was an embarrassment to the Fire Nation. The new prince would be a great improvement.
The path began to fade from under Zhao's feet and was replaced by thick, green grass. Zhao glanced over to the hills in the distance. They sloped gently and were covered in fragrant wild flowers and bushes. The bison is there somewhere, he thought, probably dead by now. There was something about that whole issue Zuko wasn't telling me. No matter. He can't stop me from succeeding where he's failed for two years. But didn't Zuko say he knew where the Avatar was going and told General Iroh to set a course north? Zhao's thoughts about Zuko's claim occupied him for the rest of the way.
He was brought out of his stream of consciousness when he reached the extensive clearing that was currently overrun by his troops. Most of the soldiers were putting up the tents. Zhao noted they were making no effort to put up the tarps. He remembered how he had tried to get away with that as a Private but regulations were regulations; they had been trained to know better.
He stopped walking and shouted, "Soldiers!" The troops halted in their chores to listen. When the last soldier's head was turned in his direction, Zhao continued, "Tarps have a purpose in tent pitching. That purpose is to keep the tent dry if and when it rains. NOT to be used as blankets!" The soldiers looked down, disappointed they'd been called on their selfishness.
Zhao had no sympathy for them, "I don't want to see a single tent without its tarp over it before nightfall! Any man caught with a tarp in his bed will be punished. Now get to work!" The soldiers hastened over to the pile of neatly folded tarps and did as Zhao had commanded. Satisfied, Zhao made his way to his tent.
After flopping down on his sofa, Zhao slipped off his boots and undid his top knot. Agni, he wanted a drink! But officers (and soldiers) were not allowed alcohol on duty. As soon as sunset came, he would hit Croce's nearest tavern for some fire whiskey and maybe find himself a brothel whore for evening company. Zhao ran his callused fingers through his hair. After he finished marching this regiment, he would have some time to hunt the Avatar before his next assignment.
Zhao got to his feet and walked over to the world map that was propped against his desk. Little red pins marked the territories conquered by the Fire Nation too recently for the map makers to keep up with and yellow pins marked the territories under Fire Nation siege. Zhao ignored these and concentrated on the Earth Kingdom continent as a whole.
The port of Croce was a few hundred miles south of the Osaka Mountains. Maybe the Avatar was headed north to those mountains; it was the location of the Northern Air Temple. But he wouldn't stay if there were no survivors. Zhao moved his eyes farther up the map to the blue colored continent that was the North Pole. The Avatar needs to master waterbending. Any teachers would be found in the Northern Water Tribe. Yes, that had to be the Avatar's current goal!
Zhao grinned as he turned from the map. You see, Zuko? I don't need your help to capture a mere child. I've figured out where he's going and I'll beat you to him. Zhao sat down at his desk and began his letter to the Fire Lord. He praised Ozai for producing a healthy heir and included the news about the Avatar's destination, requesting a fleet for a siege on the North Pole.
Prince Zuko shut the door of his room and sighed as he leaned against the cool metal. His eyes moved over the small cabin; they took in the mat on the floor, the wicker rugs, the trunks in the corner, the low bench and table of his meditation center, and the desk underneath his broadswords. This room was smaller and plainer than the lowliest servant's room at the Fire Palace.
Prince Zuko did not miss his tedious studies or the sycophants of the Court from his life in Azar. But he did miss the graceful architecture of the temples and the palace, the warm climate, and the vast, beautiful lands that formed the Fire Nation. The Palace of Azar had been his favorite place. As the second largest building in the world, after the Palace of Ba Sing Se, it was the most awe inspiring sight as one entered the capital. Its graceful, curving turrets and spires stretched toward the red sky and the sun made the structures shimmer so brightly. The color scheme was mainly black, gold, and various shades of red. Prince Zuko's quarters had been large, spacious, and ornate. He had had a room for his studies, a room for meditation, a private dining room, a two chambered bathroom – one room for "relief", the other for bathing –, a bedroom, a room-sized closet, a lounge, and a balcony with a magnificent view of the gardens.
Now that the Avatar was his prisoner, Zuko would return to such luxury. He was a Prince and was owed such refinement. His birthright was to rule the Fire Nation, despite the favor bestowed on his prodigy of a sister. Zhao had been entirely too serious about that story for Zuko's comfort. The nerve to tell of a replacement prince! Zuko knew he was out of favor with his father, but Ozai wouldn't sire a new heir… would he? Zuko shook the doubts from his head. The idea was foolish. Any child from the harem would be a bastard child. To rule, one had to be born of the Fire Lord's consort and Ozai hadn't taken a new one when Zuko's mother had died. Consort Sayuri was just a woman of Zhao's invention, Zuko convinced himself.
Zuko waved his hand to light the lamps. The contained fires illuminated the corner where Zuko's trunks were and his eyes fell on the Water Tribe bag. He picked it up and dumped its contents onto his mat. He then proceeded to sift through the items. He found a bison whistle, some meager food rations of bread and fruit, a hairbrush, an empty money pouch, some strips of linen, a tangled coil of rope, a bottle of some sickly colored lotion, and two scrolls. Zuko unrolled these and found them to be a map of the world and a familiar waterbending scroll.
Zuko shoved everything into the bag and stood up. It was time to brief his prisoners on their new duties aboard his ship.
Katara and Sokka had awoken that morning to find themselves in a dark, dank cell. Of course, they had no idea what time of day it was, as there was no visible sunlight from anywhere. The two had worked off their gags and together, they recalled the events before they had blacked out and concluded their new room was on Prince Zuko's ship.
Katara had expected some form of guard or warden or Prince Zuko, himself, to come down to the brig sometime. Whether to bring food, gloat, or torture her and Sokka, she didn't know. But no one had come. She had no idea what to expect from her captors or what was to become of her and Sokka or where Aang was.
She felt so helpless; she was tied up and put under lock and key in the middle of the ocean with no means to escape or free the ones she cared about. She felt as though Aang's capture was her fault. How could she have been so stupid to lose her hold on the water? The fire blast shouldn't have scared her like that! She should've countered it! She could've kept Aang safe and she could've kept Sokka from being beaten up by those thugs! It didn't matter now. She had screwed up and it had cost her dearly.
The two siblings had spent most of the day sitting back to back working the elaborate knots around each other's wrists. They had hardly made any progress in loosening their bonds.
"Almost got this one, Katara. Pull your wrists apart a little. Nope that just tightened it again. Hang on," Sokka muttered as he tried for the umpteenth time to untie the same knot.
Katara sighed, "Sokka, we've been at this for hours. Maybe we should take a break. My fingers are getting numb and you're making your burn peel."
Sokka nodded and said, "Okay Katara. We'll try again after we rest a bit. I know it's tedious work, but the use of our hands is necessary for escape."
She gave an exasperated groan. "Sokka, even if we get out of this cell, where would we go? We're in the middle of the ocean! The guards would search for us and there are only so many places to hide on a ship," Katara said coldly. She hadn't meant to sound mean, but she was bitter about the situation and couldn't hide her despair.
Sokka seemed to understand she was not angry at him and he sighed heavily. "Katara, you can't talk like that. I'm usually the one who says stuff like that. You're always full of hope… I need you to tell me that we can get out of here safely with Aang."
Katara's bottom lip trembled and a tear slid down her cheek as she said, "I don't know anymore, Sokka. I'm so scared to get my hopes up when I know how unlikely escape is. We don't have Appa waiting to take us away this time. And Aang is probably under the heaviest guard. I'm sorry; I just can't bring myself to hope right now."
Sokka remained silent for a few moments before he said in a hollow voice, "I'm sorry you feel that way, Katara."
The siblings said no more as they sat in the darkness. Katara was hungry and thirsty and her body ached from lying on the iron floor. The cell had steadily been getting warmer since the ship had started its engines. She could hear the distant pumping and grinding of gears as the fires burned fuel, taking her farther from shore. The warmth was making Sokka and Katara sweat, only dehydrating them more.
Katara wondered how long the two of them would be kept in darkness. Someone was bound to bring food sooner or later. Prince Zuko couldn't be cruel enough to starve them to death. Could he? He's Fire Nation! Of course he could starve you, Katara chided herself. He wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over it either. Look who his father is! Zuko was brought up to be a powerful, ruthless, unforgiving – "Katara?"
Katara was jerked from her thoughts. Sokka sounded scared and she felt him tense against her back. "What is it, Sokka?" she asked twisting around to look at him. She couldn't see his expression in the dark, but his head was turned toward the cell door and he was radiating apprehension as she listened to his ragged breathing.
"You hear that?"
Katara listened in the direction of the door. All she heard were the engines still churning. "Sokka, what am I –" Her question was interrupted by the grating of the door's lock. Katara tensed.
The door began to open slowly and Katara blinked at the torch light from the hallway. She was glad the person hadn't burst in. The door's metal hinges whined. Katara steeled herself. Maybe someone was just bringing dinner, she hoped. Sokka gently bumped his back against her shoulder and she gasped softly. It took her a few seconds to realize she hadn't been breathing.
Softly, the door swung fully open and Katara gazed at the unmistakable figure of Prince Zuko, silhouetted in the doorframe.
: The next chapter will include one SCARY dream for Prince Zuko. Again, I cannot stress enough how important reviews are!