The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 18: Five Children

The stars still clung to the sky when the signal skiff drifted back into the outer mist banks of Tutanaki, its hull whispering across the surface of the water like a rumor carried on windless breath. The moon was gone now, swallowed by the horizon. Only the metallic silhouette of the base loomed ahead, ugly, silent, unchanged.

The skiff cut its engine early. Zuko had made the call an hour out.

"Approach silent," he'd ordered. "No wake. No lights. No sound."

They rowed the final stretch.

Lee held the oar, arms moving with controlled, efficient rhythm, his breathing steady as ever. Hinaro sat beside him on the port side, wrapped tightly in her fire nation-issued travel cloak, her gaze distant but restless. Rin stood near the tiller, eyes scanning the approach, his posture relaxed, but not idle. And at the front of the skiff stood Zuko, his silhouette cut against the jagged shape of the dock pylons ahead.

Tutanaki hadn't moved.

Not in body. But in expectation, maybe.

It was nearly four in the morning.

They reached the same abandoned pier from which Zuko and Rin had departed barely a day before, the same spot where Vessel #12 had been moored like a rotting buoy in a ghost yard.

But now, there were four new eyes watching the dock from the third tier tower.

Not guards.

Dockhands.

Too groggy to be alarmed, too curious to look away.

One of them nudged the other as the skiff bumped quietly against the pier's edge.

"Hey. That's… is that the same boat?"

"Dunno… this island is really freaking me out."

"The ship vanishes and then… "

"Shut up, it may be haunted."

Zuko's cloak swirled as he stepped lightly onto the dock, his boots catching only a trace of dew-slick against the steel. He turned once and offered a gloved hand to Hinaro, who hesitated, not from weakness, but unfamiliarity.

She took it.

Her boots thudded against the steel. Then Lee and Rin followed.

Lee adjusted his collar, brushing travel dust off his dark-red uniform sleeves, posture returning automatically to its upright, self-possessed stance.

Hinaro glanced around as they walked, eyeing the grit-stained walls, the crude iron architecture, the black piping that ran along the ceiling of the outer ramp corridor. This place felt wrong. No beauty. No heritage. Just function and fog and coal-smoke. It reeked of corrosion.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

Rin answered without turning. "Tutanaki. Forgotten by time. Abandoned by glory. A stronghold nobody wanted."

"A stronghold?"

"Technically."

Zuko spoke next. "A long gone post. Weapons testing. No formal chain of command except whoever's still breathing that week."

"It's…" she glanced at the rusting walls, the dim walk-lights, the boarded side gate. "Charming."

Lee sniffed slightly. "Its aesthetics are industrial, not ceremonial. Which is to say, intentionally uninviting. You'd be surprised how effective ugliness is at repelling bureaucracy."

Zuko smirked faintly.

They passed a small corner office with a half-lit command post window, the glow of a single oil lamp flickering inside. No motion. The graveyard shift was either asleep or working half-heartedly through their guard rotation.

When they reached the inner gate, Zuko stepped forward and knocked once. Firm, rhythmic. Not loud.

A voice grumbled from the inside.

Then the door opened a crack.

Lieutenant Chien's bleary face peeked out, his uniform wrinkled, his boots untied. The moment he recognized the silhouette in front of him, he stood straighter than a broom.

"Y-Your Highness?!"

Zuko stepped past him. "Open the gate."

Chien stumbled out of the way, scrambling to pull the latch.

Rin brushed past with a casual nod. "Miss us?"

Chien blinked rapidly. "You were… I thought, weren't you back on your ship busy over there sire?"

"No longer," Zuko replied coolly.

Behind them, Lee and Hinaro stepped into view.

Chien stared.

"New personnel?"

"My officers," Zuko said plainly.

Lee offered a precise bow. "Ensign Lee, sir. Fire Nation Academy Class of 94, elite graduate standing. Personal attaché to the Crown Prince."

"…And her?"

"Privately-trained. Transferred under royal command."

Hinaro bristled slightly but said nothing.

Chien's eyes widened a little. "But I thought… I wasn't aware of…"

"You're not supposed to be," Zuko interrupted, moving down the corridor already.

Lee and Hinaro followed wordlessly, their steps perfectly in sync, though Hinaro's face twitched once, still stung by having her identity reduced to a logistical footnote.

They entered the command hub without ceremony. The door was half open, the watchman inside nearly falling out of his chair when the Crown Prince appeared in the doorway flanked by three strangers in travel garb.

Zuko didn't slow. "Log the return time. All surveillance records from last twelve hours go to Ensign Misa. Tell her we'll review the west quadrant anomaly after sunrise."

"Yes, your highness!"

The prince led them into the officer's hall. Its iron bulkhead doors groaned faintly as they passed, the steel floors creaking under new boots. Only now did the few night-shift officers begin to murmur.

"Wasn't that…?"

"Who's the girl?"

"Didn't they just arrive the other day?"

Rin didn't glance back. "Ignore them."

Lee did the opposite, he stared directly at the ones whispering, his gaze cutting through them like a cold tide.

By the time they reached the interior barracks, Zuko had already assigned their sleeping quarters.

"Lee. Northern bunk hall, west wing. Corner berth. You'll manage intel relay and strategic modeling."

Lee nodded. "Understood."

"Hinaro, adjacent quarters. You'll answer to no one but me. Shadow Lee for now. Learn the system."

She blinked. "I'm not a clerk."

"No," Zuko said flatly. "But you'll pretend to be one. You both have duty to perform for the next few hours before we depart for Nan Hai."

Rin chuckled under his breath.

"I'll check on communications after sunrise," Zuko continued. "We reconvene at midday. Until then, rest."

"Captain," Rin said with a smirk. "Permission to sleep until the next world war?"

"Granted," Zuko muttered.

And with that, the party dispersed into shadow.

Zuko lingered at the upper floor for a moment, alone now. He leaned on the rail overlooking the cold inner harbor. The stars above Tutanaki were fewer now. The wind had picked up.

He felt their eyes.

Not just Tsu's.

Someone else. Something else.

But he didn't move.

The sea didn't frighten him.

Because Zuko was building something larger than fear.

Morning came slowly to Tutanaki.

The grey sun rose through a sky of pale steel, casting dull light over the island's corroded watchtowers and the haze of lingering coal smoke. The wind was biting but calm, stirring only the tattered Fire Nation banners on the eastern flag posts. The scent of salt, smoke, and engine oil wafted heavy through the base.

No one suspected a thing.

Zuko had returned as quietly as he had left. No ceremony. No announcement. As far as the garrison was concerned, the Crown Prince had simply spent the night in seclusion, overseeing communications or inspecting engine maintenance in the lower yard. The lie required no effort. The island's nature made such absences normal.

Now, the outpost stirred with renewed urgency.

Zuko had called the same men who had arrived with him originally, the skeleton unit of seasoned personnel, the ones who had helped him establish control over the neglected base on day one. Deck engineers. Quartermasters. A pair of skilled noncommissioned logistics hands. He met with them personally at the southern hangar, where his sleek, black-iron warship had been quietly refueled and prepped for departure.

"Inspection, maintenance, supply assessment," Zuko ordered flatly. "We're heading for Nan-Hai within the hour. I want every crate weighed, every bunk accounted for, every man briefed."

The officers saluted without hesitation.

No questions. No delay.

This was no longer a forgotten post.

The Crown Prince had breathed command into its rusted lungs.

Meanwhile, across the far courtyard, beneath the shade of a neglected windmill-turned-observation-deck, Lee and Hinaro stood alone, away from watchful eyes. The others in the outpost gave them a wide berth, not out of respect, but because no one quite knew what to make of them.

The ensign and the Kyoshi warrior.

Married by order, joined by politics, and tied by nothing resembling affection.

Lee had his arms crossed, eyes narrowed toward the open sea. His hair was neat. His boots polished. Not a single thread of his uniform was out of place.

Hinaro leaned against a cold railing, arms folded, her sword resting at her hip. Her expression was unreadable.

After a long silence, Lee finally spoke.

"I've recalculated the sleeping quarters. You'll have your own bunk. Separate. I assume that's preferable."

Hinaro snorted lightly. "That's the first smart thing you've said since we got here."

Lee turned his head toward her. "There is no expectation of intimacy. No obligation. I assume neither of us are under illusions."

"Nope," she said flatly. "You're the lucky bastard who gets to say you're married to a Kyoshi warrior. And I get to pretend I married up. Everybody wins."

Lee didn't flinch.

"I never expected romance. I made promises to myself before I ever laid eyes on you. About the kind of man I would become."

"Let me guess, fleet admiral?"

"Yes."

He said it without pride. Without drama.

"Since I was 5 years old. Before I even knew how to hold a sword properly. Before I knew how to speak to anyone outside a scroll. That goal has shaped every waking decision since."

Hinaro studied him now. "And marrying me fits into that?"

"Strategically," he said. "Yes."

She smirked. "Well, you're all charm."

Lee blinked once, as if confused by the sarcasm. "I want five children."

That made her pause. "Excuse me?"

"Ideally. Five. To secure legacy. At least three from you. I would prefer all five, but I understand the constraints of military mobility and childbirth spacing. If necessary, a concubine can be appointed to bear two."

Hinaro stepped forward, eyes narrowing.

"Say that again and I will take your damn head off."

Lee didn't step back. "This is not an insult. It's planning. Succession is serious. I do not make decisions emotionally. That includes who raises my family."

"You think this is just some breeding roster?" she snapped. "You think I'm just a field with a flag stuck in it? You picked the wrong woman for this arrangement."

"I didn't pick you," Lee said calmly. "The prince did."

That stung.

He kept speaking.

"And whether or not you like it, I am your husband. Not a romantic. Not a lover. But your husband."

She clenched her teeth.

"I swear on my mother's grave, if you ever treat me like property…"

"You'll kill me," Lee finished, unfazed. "Yes. I assumed as much."

A long, hard silence.

Then she whispered, almost bitterly:

"I'm only here for Suki. She's going to join the prince in two weeks. After the solstice. I need to be close when that happens."

Lee nodded. "A strategic position. Understood."

"She's not going to survive long if I'm not there. You know what this place is. What this man is." Her voice lowered. "I'm not doing this because I believe in his cause. I'm doing it because she's walking into a war… and she thinks it's a wedding."

Lee's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Then we are aligned. We both serve someone else's survival. You, for Suki. Me, for the Fire Nation."

"No," she growled. "You serve yourself. You just hide behind empires and medals."

And with that, she turned and walked away.

Lee said nothing.

But his eyes followed her for a long time.

Across the outpost, Zuko met with Lieutenant Chien one final time in the command chamber. Ensign Misa stood at her usual desk, files in hand.

"The dock shift has been rotated. Communication codes updated. Nothing unusual to report," Misa said briskly.

Zuko nodded. "Chien."

"Yes, your highness?"

"You've done better since I arrived. Marginally."

Chien tried not to look offended.

Zuko looked him dead in the eyes.

"You are to hold this island until further orders. No outside messages. No impromptu inspections. If the Capital sends word, stall. If Kuvak asks, lie. If my uncle appears, tell him nothing."

"Yes, sir."

"You and your ensign will maintain performance metrics for all active personnel. Reinforce the internal reward system, food, breaks, station upgrades. Start punishing insubordination. Use isolation and labor detail. Nothing theatrical. Just sharp."

"Understood."

"You are dismissed."

Chien hesitated, saluted, and left with Misa close behind.

A minute later, Rin stepped in, adjusting his sleeves and looking slightly cleaner than he had in days.

"You sure you want to leave this place with Chien in charge?"

Zuko nodded. "I've given him just enough pressure to act. Not enough to rebel."

"Still a dump," Rin muttered, scanning the dusty desk.

"It's better than three days ago," Zuko said.

"That's not hard," Rin smirked.

Then he looked at Zuko more directly.

"You sure about leaving Suki behind? You could've had her now."

Zuko didn't answer immediately.

Then: "No. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because the solstice will be… volatile," he said. "Azula's questions are already circling. Kuvak's probably waiting for a full report since my departure from the Capital. I don't need more pieces moving."

"So Suki's safer back on Kyoshi?"

"She's safer out of the picture."

Zuko's eyes narrowed.

"But only for now."

By mid-afternoon, the black-iron warship had been fully loaded and began the slow process of disengaging from the drydock. Steam hissed from its pipes. Flags were hoisted. Ropes were drawn.

Zuko stood on the main deck as the vessel finally peeled away from the outpost.

He watched Tutanaki shrink in the distance, a fortress built on rust and secrecy.

Now cleaner. Sharper.

Better than when he arrived.

[A/N: Read 15 to 20 chapters ahead available right now on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels.com. Please sent a powerstone, like and comment. It helps, and thank you for the support.]