Chapter 27: Beneath Still Waters
The next day, the sun dipped low across the western cliffs of Nan-Hai, staining the harbor waters a molten amber. The echoes of hammers and orders rang across the battered shoreline, repair crews moving like ants across shattered docks and scorched supply warehouses. Amid the chaos of reconstruction, few noticed the lone figure walking calmly along the upper balconies of the central compound.
Azula's steps were soft, measured. She moved without her usual royal parade of trumpeting guards or fanfare. She preferred it that way.
Ty Lee and Mai followed behind her at a respectful distance. Both had changed into field uniforms, simple but tailored, each bearing the unmistakable red flame insignia of the Fire Nation. It was a mark of command, but also of expectation. Neither spoke.
Azula paused at the overlook of the harbor.
From this vantage point, she could see nearly everything: the dockhands moving crates from the freshly arrived supply ship, the flicker of flame-benders practicing basic forms by the barracks, the shift rotations among the guards at the perimeter. Her eyes scanned each detail with the precision of a knife drawn slow.
She didn't speak to Ty Lee or Mai as she walked back inside the compound.
Instead, her mind was already plotting.
She found her first opportunity in the form of Captain Morudo, a broad-shouldered officer standing over a field report near the war map station. He was arguing with two younger soldiers, his tone clipped and tense. Azula lingered nearby, listening.
"…I said we reposition to the north cliffside. If the enemy launches another assault, we won't get caught with our backs to the sea again."
One of the soldiers shifted uncomfortably. "But sir, that contradicts the Crown Prince's latest…"
"Prince or not, he's not thinking like a commander," Morudo snapped.
Azula's eyes flickered with interest. She approached, graceful as silk.
"Captain," she said, her voice a whisper wrapped in formality.
Morudo stiffened and turned, bowing sharply. "Princess Azula. I-I didn't realize…"
"Relax," she said with a smile far too gentle to be sincere. "I'm merely observing. I've been told you have a sharp mind for troop maneuvering."
He seemed to straighten at the compliment. "I only serve the Fire Nation, Princess."
"Good," she replied. "Then perhaps we'll speak more formally tomorrow. I may have… insights I'd like your opinion on."
He bowed again, but there was a different glint in his eyes now, one part pride, two parts curiosity.
Ty Lee leaned in as Azula walked past him. "He's got an ego," she whispered. "You'll have him dancing in three days."
Azula didn't answer. She was already thinking of the others.
The next evening, she met with Logistics Officer Seki, a woman in her late forties with thin silver streaks in her otherwise black bun. Seki had been assigned to oversee ration control and local civilian trade approvals. A woman overlooked by many, but one with ink access to half the base's inner workings.
They met under the guise of an inspection.
"Princess, I… wasn't informed…"
"You weren't supposed to be," Azula said, thumbing through the ledger on Seki's table. "I find people are more truthful when they're not prepared."
Seki gave a nervous chuckle, unsure if it was meant to be a joke.
"Do you find the Crown Prince's resource distribution methods sufficient?" Azula asked.
The woman hesitated.
"Honest answer, please," Azula added softly, her voice like silk dipped in vinegar.
"I… believe some of his choices prioritize speed over sustainability."
Azula closed the book with a snap and gave a short nod. "Then we will have a private discussion tomorrow. I believe your experience is wasted here."
Seki blinked. "Princess?"
"You'll be reassigned."
"I…"
"To me," Azula clarified. "Temporarily."
By the third day, it was clear to Mai and Ty Lee what was happening.
They watched Azula from a shaded alcove near the upper tier mess. She sat alone with an officer whose name neither of them recognized a naval man, not from Zuko's usual roster. She laughed gently, fingers to her lips, eyes never leaving the man's face. He was talking too much. She was barely talking at all.
When she returned to them later that evening in the quarters, Mai didn't ask anything. She simply offered a dry observation: "You've talked to almost every non-ranked officer with a pulse and a pair of opinions."
Azula stripped off her tunic and tossed it onto the cot. "That's because Zuko's made it too easy. This place is held together by pride and tape. Everyone's frustrated. Everyone's tired. They're starting to resent the golden boy. All they need is a mirror to look into and see someone better."
"And that's you?" Ty Lee asked, pulling her hair up into a bun.
Azula smirked. "Who else?"
"But what if Zuko catches on?" Mai said, eyes narrowing slightly. "He's not stupid. You've been quiet about this before. Why so loud now?"
Azula's face cooled. She sat on the edge of her bed, chin in her hands, elbows on her knees.
"Because this is war. And in war, timing is everything," she said. "He's weakened. Battered. The harbor still stinks of blood and broken stone. That girl Hinaro is a snake pretending to be a sheep. That ensign boy is loyal but soft. And Zuko… is too many things all at once."
"You still fear him," Ty Lee said gently.
Azula didn't blink. "I still intend to win."
Neither friend said anything for a while. The silence of the room stretched between them like a drawn bowstring.
Finally, Azula stood, walked to the mirror, and examined her reflection. Her fingers traced the curve of her jaw, then the faint shimmer of the bruise just under her collarbone from yesterday's sparring session.
She whispered to herself: "Everyone has a weakness. Even Zuko. Especially Zuko."
The whisper of wind tapped against the thin window screens, carrying the smell of scorched stone and sea salt from the half-ruined harbor below. The quarters were dim, only a single oil lantern hanging on the corner wall bathing the room in amber gold.
Azula was mid-step toward the wash basin when the knock came. A firm three taps.
The girls all turned.
Ty Lee, closest to the door, exchanged a glance with Azula before walking over, bare feet making little sound on the stone floor. She opened the door to reveal the polite posture and sharp eyes of Ensign Lee.
"Evening, Lady Ty Lee," the boy said formally. "Apologies for the disturbance. I've been sent by order of the Crown Prince."
Azula straightened at the mention, but said nothing yet.
"The Prince requests Princess Azula's presence in his chambers," Lee continued, hands folded behind his back, eyes unreadable. "He says he's recovered sufficiently from his injuries… and wishes to confront the Princess regarding her recent behavior."
Ty Lee blinked at the peculiar phrasing.
"Confront her?" she echoed.
"That was the word he used," Lee confirmed, bowing slightly. "He gave no further instructions. Just that I deliver the message and say it plainly."
Mai, sitting on her bed with one leg crossed over the other, leaned slightly forward. "Is he angry?"
Lee didn't answer. He simply bowed again. "Goodnight, ladies."
Then he turned and walked away, not looking back.
Ty Lee gently closed the door and turned around slowly. "So… that was weird."
Azula didn't move. She was still by the mirror, the curve of her spine perfectly erect, hands clasped behind her back. Her reflection stared calmly back at her but her eyes danced with calculation.
Mai let out a slow breath. "That didn't sound like a formal summons. That sounded like a trap."
"Maybe he's figured out you've been poking around with officers and scribes and captains," Ty Lee added, voice slightly higher now. "I told you you're being bolder than usual."
Azula turned slowly, finally facing them.
"If he knew," she said calmly, "then I wouldn't be receiving an invitation. I'd be receiving chains."
"But it's still strange," Mai muttered. "He's too smart to be this straightforward."
Azula walked over to the lantern, tilted it slightly, and stared into the flame. It fluttered and bent, dancing like it feared her gaze.
"He's not being straightforward," she said after a pause. "He's bluffing."
"Or testing you," Ty Lee offered.
Azula smirked. "He always is."
Mai stood up. "So what are you going to do? Go?"
"Of course," Azula answered immediately.
Ty Lee looked nervous. "Should we go with you?"
"No," Azula said without hesitation. "He won't speak honestly with an audience."
She picked up her red sash from the chair, tying it tightly around her waist in a practiced motion.
"Do you think he suspects anything?" Mai asked.
Azula gave a short breath of amusement. "Zuko? Please. He barely notices what's happening under his own nose. He's too busy playing strategist, pretending to be a great prince. He forgets one thing."
She paused at the door, casting one glance over her shoulder.
"I have something he wants."
She didn't elaborate, Ty Lee blinked and looked away. Mai didn't react.
Azula opened the door and stepped out, alone, her steps echoing down the corridor as she made her way through the now-dim hallways of the base's central structure. The stone walls were still warm from the day's heat, but the corridors were silent. Most of the soldiers had already returned to their bunks. The few still on watch shifted upright when they saw her pass, saluting quietly. She offered no acknowledgment.
Every corridor, every turn, was a memory from her first time through. She could still smell the burnt wood from the previous week's battle. She could hear the groan of stone being moved, the sea wind trying to sneak through the cracks.
When she arrived at the Prince's private quarters, she paused before the heavy fire-oak door.
There were no guards outside.
Typical Zuko.
She knocked once, not too loud.
"Come in," came his voice, calm and even but it lacked its usual commanding pitch. It sounded… thoughtful. Possibly tired.
She stepped in.
The door creaked slightly as it opened. His quarters were quiet, lit only by a pair of small candles. He was seated at his desk, shirtless, his ribs bandaged in tight black wraps. There was a half-finished parchment before him, ink still fresh, mathematical formulae trailing across it like ancient runes from another world. He didn't bother hiding it.
His gold eyes flicked up to meet hers.
"Azula," he said simply.
She crossed her arms and closed the door behind her. "You sent for me."
"I did."
There was a long pause.
She tilted her head. "So?"
Zuko exhaled and stood, slow and steady, like a man made of stone trying to remember how to move. He winced slightly but straightened. The firelight kissed the edges of his jaw and collarbone.
"I wanted to see how far you were willing to go," he said quietly.
Azula didn't answer, not yet. Her face was still and unreadable.
"I've heard a few things," he went on. "Whispers. Sighs in the corridors. Soldiers who speak too freely after wine. I see the ripples now. The way command is starting to question me when they didn't almost a week ago. You've stirred the waters."
She gave the faintest smile. "And what are you going to do about it?"
Zuko didn't reply immediately.
Instead, he walked to the far corner of the room, retrieved a small bottle of fire liqueur, and poured two cups. He walked back, handed her one.
Azula raised an eyebrow but took it.
He lifted his own cup. "To the game."
She touched hers to his with a faint clink.
Neither drank.
Not yet.
He looked her dead in the eyes.
"Just remember, Azula… you're not the only one who knows how to play."
Then he drank.
Azula smirked, then followed.
The silence that followed was loud enough to be thunder.
Zuko set his cup down gently, letting the echo of its base against the wooden desk ring out once.
His eyes hadn't left her.
"You've disappointed me, Azula."
The words came softly, not in anger but in something worse. Something quieter. Something that spoke of cold judgment.
Azula blinked, just once. "Disappointed you?"
"You made it too obvious." He leaned forward, just a little. "Too easy. I expected better from you."
There was no fire in his tone. No rise of voice. But the weight in his words was undeniable.
Azula tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing, but her smile never wavered. "I never said I wouldn't try my own methods. You said you didn't mind competition, remember?"
Zuko smiled faintly, though not with amusement. "Right. But since you arrived… three, four days ago, you've been distant. Cold. Not once did you speak to me alone, until now. And then there's your little covert operations lately. Whispers exchanged behind stone walls with those two simpletons you brought along."
He straightened. And with it, his voice transformed.
Gone was the flirtatious banter. Gone was the languid tone and the half-teasing glances.
What came in its place was a voice made of stone and smoke and death.
"I'll ask you once," he said. His gaze held hers like a sword against the throat. "Is our deal off, Azula?"
He didn't shout. He didn't need to.
Azula felt it again, that cold, sick weight that settled into her stomach whenever Zuko got like this. Whenever his golden eyes stopped seeing and started calculating. It was like staring into the eyes of a dragon just before it decided whether to roast you or go back to sleep.
"No," she said quickly. "Of course not."
He leaned back, relaxed once more. The chill lifted as suddenly as it had arrived.
"Is that right?" he asked, sipping his drink again.
Azula nodded once, controlled. "I just have to make contingencies of my own. I can't leave everything to you. That would be irresponsible." Her voice never trembled, but the lie crawled like ash down her tongue.
In truth, she wanted to set the entire room on fire. To incinerate him down to bone and ash, to remind him he was nothing more than the weak little brother who once cried over their mother's absence and flinched at their father's glare. But she couldn't, not anymore.
Not when the boy she once mocked now spoke like he had the Fire Lord's breath in his lungs.
Not when every day he surprised her with his restraint… and his darkness.
"Good," Zuko said, voice easy again. "You had me worried there for a second."
He stood up, stretching slightly despite the pain in his ribs. "I actually liked that you didn't come to my room that first night."
Azula arched a brow. "Oh? I thought you'd be insulted."
He gave her a smirk, more heat in it now. "No. It made it safer for us to do it now."
She walked toward the desk slowly, running a single finger along the edge of the wood as she passed it. "Of course. It would've raised suspicion. Especially with roommates."
"Exactly," Zuko nodded. "Not like we're back at the palace."
There was silence for a moment. Then he turned to pour himself another small cup, the firelight catching the edges of his scar like a second mask.
But his thoughts were nowhere near as calm as his tone.
She's plotting something.
She always is.
That was one of the reasons he liked her. Her ambition. Her cunning. The way she never let herself be outmaneuvered for long. It made their dance worth doing.
But she wasn't the only one preparing.
Zuko had seen the signs. The small changes. The way she tested him, first with distance, now with closeness. Her arrival hadn't been a rescue. It was a probe.
And probes could become knives.
He would need contingencies of his own.
***
Not far from the chaos of Nan-Hai… far from the crumbling harbor walls and the fractured city battlements, there was only ocean.
The kind of still, unbroken water that whispered secrets between waves. Midnight clung to the waves like silk.
And above it all, under a pale moon, there floated a ghost.
A lone vessel.
Dark sails. Black hull. No banners.
It made no sound, and yet somehow it sang danger.
This was no trade ship. No navy scout. No wandering merchant lost on the tides.
This was a predator.
The Bloodwind, infamous across the Western Seas. Captain Tsu's ship. Feared by outposts, whispered about in taverns, and marked with the invisible stain of a hundred unsolved raids. It moved like a rumor. Struck like a memory. And when it was done, it vanished like a ghost.
Inside the cabin, the low creak of old wood and the occasional sway of lantern light painted shadows along the walls. A meal sat halfway eaten on the table, sea snake roasted in fermented red spice, and a bowl of ginger rice nearly knocked over by the ship's lurch.
Captain Tsu leaned back in his chair, bare chest inked with a serpent tattoo curling from clavicle to wrist. His eyes were narrow. Calm. Too calm.
Across from him sat his First Mate, a woman with storm-colored eyes and a knife always within arm's reach.
The door creaked open.
A young deckhand stepped in, soaked to the knees, scroll in hand. He didn't even take off his boots before stepping onto the patterned rugs of the captain's quarters.
"Captain," the boy said, breathless. "A hawk just arrived… carrying this."
Tsu didn't take it.
He just glanced at the scroll with a slow blink.
"Who sent it?" he asked, voice like driftwood dragging across rock.
"Prince Zuko, sir."
That made the room still.
The First Mate set his cup down, very deliberately. Tsu leaned forward slowly, finally extending a hand. The scroll was placed in his palm.
The pirate captain studied the wax seal. Not the Fire Nation crest. Something else. Zuko's personal mark.
Tsu exhaled through his nose.
"Huh."
The First Mate raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think he'd contact us so soon."
"Neither did I," Tsu murmured, weighing the scroll in his hand as if it carried iron. "Not unless things were getting… interesting."
He didn't open it. Not yet.
Just stared at the fire dancing in the lantern, the flames casting long shadows across his face.
He and Zuko had unfinished business.
Now this.
The First Mate leaned back, eyes gleaming. "What do you think he wants?"
Captain Tsu smiled. The kind of smile men made when they tasted blood on the wind.
"Let's find out."
As he broke the seal, the candlelight flickered, just once, casting both their faces into shadow as the parchment slowly unrolled.
Outside, above them, the Bloodwind drifted quietly across the sea like a blade waiting to be drawn.
[A/N: Read 20 to 40 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.]