Chapter Text
Finding out your wife ran off with your daughter had to be rough, but not a single navy man on this vessel held the slightest sympathy for the dishonored Prince of the Fire Nation. No one knew what Prince Ozai had done to warrant Lady Ursa’s midnight flight, but it was hard for Lieutenant Jee to judge her for it.
To sum up, the Prince was a Royal Pain in the Ass who had absolutely no sense of how things worked on a ship. Certainly, he was an excellent firebender, and outranked all of them. But he was just so. . . difficult to respect.
“Can’t you get this ship going faster?” he demanded of anyone within earshot. How the captain had rigged the draw so Jee had to babysit His Highness, he did not know. But he’d get him back for it.
“Your Highness, if we aren’t careful, we won’t have enough fuel for the journey. We don’t know where the Princesses are or where they are headed, so this could turn out to be a lengthy chase.” Jee kept himself well out of reach as he said this. He was trying to be respectful. But he hadn’t been expecting a particularly large and ill-tempered child when they’d been ordered to travel the world with the Fire Prince.
Prince Ozai huffed and paced the deck. This was promising to be a long and arduous trip.
“How much trouble would we be in if we. . . dumped him overboard?”
Kyo glanced at him and shook his head. “We’d end up dead if he so much as heard you.”
“Figured.” Jee sighed and leaned back.
“He give you that much trouble?” Jun asked. They had all gathered below deck to discuss their path. The Captain sat with a map beside Kyo.
“I’m not going to complain. . . much. I recognize that he’s never had to go without the trappings of luxury and what not but seriously. He. . .” Jee stared at the ceiling. “He just strikes me as someone who’s cruel to cover up how small he feels inside.”
This earned a few grunts of understanding.
The Captain stood and everyone looked at him expectantly. “We’ve been given to understand that Princess Ursa will likely return to her hometown, so that is where we will check first.” He leveled a warning glare at them. “Refrain from angering the Prince. He is not known for his mercy and I intend to return home with all of you. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” intoned the crew.
Jee was going to have trouble with that last order.
It was hard to not laugh when a messenger hawk got tangled in anything, let alone the Fire Lord’s second son. Prince Ozai was unsuccessfully trying to get a young, feathered menace to let go of his top knot. Two of the crew were approaching cautiously but Jee got the feeling the prince would not appreciate aid. As it was, the air around him was starting to shimmer with heat. It would be wiser to suffer the loss of a single hawk than risk serious injury to his fellow crew members.
He gestured to the pair and they retreated diligently.
Then the hawk finally figured out how to free itself. It took a lock of hair with it.
Prince Ozai shot a stream of flame at it but missed and the beast thought it would be a good idea to retreat to Jee’s shoulder. He dearly wished it hadn’t. However, the prince must have seen the flash of fear on his face because he smiled and smoothed out his hair and clothes. He stalked toward the halls, pausing to tell Jee to alert him when they reached their destination.
Jee was grateful for some peace and quiet. He turned to the hawk perched on his shoulder. “Do you have any idea of how rude you are?” he asked it. It preened under its wing.
They made landfall at the port nearest the Princess’s hometown. The Fire Prince, fancy clothes and all, swept down the ramp like he was gracing them with his presence instead of ruining their morning. The captain made arrangements for land travel (apparently forgetting that the peacock goose would be utterly appalled to ride in anything other than a fancy carriage).
“Your Highness, you should probably change into something easier to ride in,” Jun suggested, face turned away from Ozai so he wouldn’t immediately know who had spoken. Jee admired his forethought. Ozai shot a haughty glare in the direction of the voice but could not distinguish between them. It would, of course, be beneath him to learn their names and faces. This would likely save their hides on more than one occasion.
Either way, they ended up travelling on rhino lizards with a very grumpy, trying-to-be-dignified prince in flowing robes that slowed their pace considerably as well as making him look totally ridiculous.
“It’s like we’re being chased by an angry red ostrich cow,” Jun muttered to Jee as they rode. Jee might have laughed, but ostrich cows were mean and a very good analogy for their malicious royal.
He did laugh (once, and not loud enough for anyone to hear) when the rhino lizard the prince rode tripped over the flowing robes and sent him face first into mud. One of their younger crewmen, Kato, was the only one who made the mistake of trying to help the prince to his feet. Everyone else was pointedly not looking, but Kato hopped down and extended his hand.
It was the scream the made everyone look.
Kato clutched his shaking arm, not touching the burn, but trying to squeeze the pain away from above it. Jee was beside him in a heartbeat. He had, fortunately, remembered to bring his supply of burn salve (just in case).
“Leave him,” Ozai commanded.
Jee forgot to breathe. Forgot everything but the rage those two words evoked.
The captain’s voice cut through the curtain of red. “Lieutenant Jee, take Kato back to the ship and treat his injury.”
“Did you not hear me?” demanded the peacock goose.
“I did, your Highness,” the captain replied evenly. “However, I have orders from the Fire Lord. I am to bring all of these men back to Caldera when we return.”
Ozai set his jaw but accepted the lie because he knew angering his father further would not improve his situation. He ignored Jee and Kato as they returned to their mounts and left the group. Jee silently wished the others luck on their trip.
He now was more certain than ever that Princess Ursa was in the right, even if he wished they could find her soon so he could not look at her husband ever again.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Kato gasped out. “Sorry for the trouble.”
“No worries kid. I’d kill that bastard for you.”
Jun was sorely missing his friend. Now it was just him, the captain, and the monster.
Well, nothing for it but to find their quarry ASAP. They picked up the pace (as much as the prince’s stupid robes would allow for). The town was. . . just like any other, but perhaps a bit better off than others Jun could name. He turned to the prince. “Do you know where we should start looking?”
Ozai huffed and said, “Ask for a man called Ikem.”
So they did. They were directed to a house just like all the others. A man bearing the name came out to greet them and he nearly panicked upon seeing Ozai. Most of the other people here had (it was a normal response), but this looked. . . more personal.
“I do not have time to chat, so let me be brief. Have you seen Ursa lately?” The words were pleasant enough, but his expression was anything but.
Surprise and confusion flashed over Ikem’s face. “No. I have not, Prince Ozai. We haven’t even received any letters from her since. . . well, it’s been a year or so.”
Ozai narrowed his eyes and Jun already knew what was coming even before the order left his mouth. “Search the house.”
He and the captain dismounted and brushed past Ikem, who followed nervously.
“Please don’t burn anything,” he pleaded.
Jun had no intention of utterly wrecking the house, but they were thorough. No sign of either Princess. The captain gave the bad news to Ozai. The prince sneered but merely turned to Ikem and commanded that he lead them to her parent’s house.
Ikem obliged, only as nervous as having the prince in his village warranted rather than in the I’m-harboring-a-fugitive way. Jun expected, and got, an angry outburst from the prince.
“Where would she go then?” he demanded of his father-in-law.
The man shook his head. “Your Highness, I have not seen my daughter in some time. She may have other noble friends she’d stay with. She hasn’t written us hardly at all since she was wed to you. It is possible she has forgotten us.” He had the look of a man bereaved.
That didn’t sound right. Why would she not write to her family? If she was dissatisfied enough to run away—
Oh. Prince Ostrich Cow.
She didn’t write them because he was a threat to her.
Come to think of it, Jun realized, didn’t Ozai have two children?
Fire Lord Azulon stalked his halls. Furious was an understatement for what he felt. His eldest failed to bring down Ba Sing Se, losing his grandson and heir in the process. His second son made a bid for the title of Crown Prince, costing Azulon not one but two heirs.
Useless, the lot of them.
Iroh of course was relatively blameless based on the reports. Such things happened in war. It merely meant that Azula would succeed him, since Iroh was determined not to remarry.
That was, of course, dependent on if Ozai could retrieve his daughter.
So here he was, pacing halls empty of all of his bloodline. Surrounded by malcontented whispers about Ozai. That, if nothing else, ensured that Azulon would never name Ozai Crown Prince. He had lost what little respect he’d held within the palace in one night.
A strange clinking noise brought his attention to a side room. Through the door, he found a pair of guards. Asleep on duty. And drunk by the smell.
“What is the meaning of this?” he growled.
The servant who followed him around supplied an answer. “These two were ordered to lock Princess Ursa away the night she left.”
He turned to her sharply and she held herself straighter, eyes still downcast. “Did you know they were in this state?” he demanded.
“No, your Majesty. I only know by their faces. Many of the staff have not slept since.”
This, he reminded himself, was why he kept her at his side. She always knew everything there was to know about the staff. So he stilled his anger and asked, “What does not allow them to sleep?”
Now she looked at him, disbelief written all over her face. He’d never seen her so expressive. “Fire Lord Azulon,” she said, treading very carefully, though her voice had more weight than any general he had ever spoken to, “the scream from your grandson. Prince Zuko. These guards not only had to listen to that but to the Princess begging for Prince Ozai to show mercy.”
“I gave that order, she should have no complaint.”
“It is known.” She stilled, eyes closed, waiting for her inevitable punishment. She had never expressed an opinion before, let alone something so damning. Azulon felt fire crawling under his skin.
“Do the servants know where Ursa took my granddaughter?”
“No. No one was privy to their plans.”
“So no one saw them leave.”
“. . . I escorted them out.”
He grabbed her chin. There was defiance in those eyes. He couldn’t be sure if she were covering for someone else, but he did not doubt that she had done exactly as she said.
“Why?” he hissed.
“Because neither he nor you deserved those children.”
He grabbed her by the arm and called for guards. Two came running and the drunk pair stirred, still groggy. He addressed the sober pair and told them, “Take these three to the dungeons and await further orders.”
They bowed and took hold of the drunkards. She followed behind them without complaint. Her head held high.
She carried herself the same way when she met the executioner.
Two guards, who tried to drown their guilt in alcohol, and a servant, who all but spat in the face of the Fire Lord, were executed publicly. The crime they were collectively accused of: negligence.
Lao heard from more than one member of the staff that the servant, Shu Li, had taken the fall for everyone who had a hand in the Princesses’ escape. Many a maid wept her loss. She’d kept many of them safe from the Fire Lord for all ten years of her service as Azulon’s aide.
Lao for his part was standing at his post, plotting an assassination.
“Still no word from the General, sir.” His junior, who had been fortunate enough to miss the events that precipitated the rebellion, told him.
He nodded. “Make sure everyone knows we can’t act until Prince Iroh is back in Caldera.”
“Yes sir.”
It had to be timed right. Failure was not an option this time.
Lao sighed and went back to being stone-faced. They would also have to come up with someone willing to kill a certain prince as well. He would of course take the blame for the Fire Lord’s death. Like Shu Li, he would mount the chopping block knowing he’d done the right thing for his countrymen, even if it damned his own spirit.
He just had to wait for the right time to take Azulon’s head off.