Chapter 21: Princess Mariko and Her Plan
The night had passed in a blur of firelight and quiet conversation, the crackling embers of the campfire mirroring the lingering thoughts in Korra's mind. Now, the late afternoon sun painted the sky in streaks of gold and amber as she and her companions sat around the mysterious woman, anticipation thick in the air. The weight of history pressed upon them, the echoes of a past long forgotten yet still shaping their present.
Asami was the first to speak, her brow furrowed in contemplation. "So Yogan was really from a powerful clan?" she asked, her voice laced with both skepticism and curiosity.
Tenzin shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. "How can that be? The Air Nomads—even back then—were a peaceful people. They had no interest in clans or power struggles." His voice carried the certainty of a man raised in the modern teachings of the Air Nation.
"Well," the mysterious woman said, the flickering firelight casting shifting shadows across her face, "yesterday, I revealed that they were not always the peace-loving monks that the Fire Nation wiped out at the start of the Hundred Year War."
Korra nodded, leaning forward, the embers reflecting in her piercing blue eyes. "Yeah. We learned that the Air Nomads once conquered the whole world at one point."
"That's correct." The woman's voice was smooth, unhurried, as if each word she spoke carried the weight of centuries. "The Air Nomads you know now, the ones who walked and flew with the clouds that Zaheer spoke of, are not the same as the ones who existed thousands of years ago. Over time, bending has fluctuated in strength. Some eras were so powerful that even the weakest benders of those times would be considered prodigies in others."
Tenzin exhaled sharply, his usually composed demeanor showing the first signs of unease. "I still find it hard to believe."
The woman gave him a knowing look. "Tell me, Master Tenzin—Avatar Aang was a prodigy of his time, correct?"
Tenzin nodded without hesitation. "Of course. He mastered airbending at a young age. He received his tattoos at twelve, decades younger than most."
A small smile curved the woman's lips. "And yet, Renji received his tattoos when he was ten. And he wasn't even the Avatar."
Silence fell upon the group. Even Tenzin, for all his skepticism, couldn't argue against that point.
"And not all airbenders grew up in the temples," the woman continued, her voice calm but firm. "Just as not all waterbenders reside in the Northern or Southern Water Tribes."
Katara, who had been quietly listening, nodded in agreement. "That's true. Over the years, cultures have mixed. It was always like that throughout history."
"Exactly." The woman's gaze swept over the group, as if assessing their readiness to learn more. "Ten thousand years is a long time. The stories that have survived are only fragments of what once was. The Air Nomads did not always live as monks, disconnected from the world. They had their own conflicts, their own ambitions. And one such ambition was wielded by the Shuji Clan."
A hushed stillness settled over them. Then, slowly, the past began to unfold before their eyes.
***---***
The world was still young, raw with the scars of separation from the Lion Turtles. Before civilization found its footing, before bending was fully understood, people had lived in the shadows of their once-great protectors.
The Air Lion Turtle had been the guardian of the true Air Nomads, those who lived atop its vast, moving form. But surrounding its domain were the scattered villages of those who relied on its power and had now been left to fend for themselves.
Among them was the Shuji Clan.
Unlike the peaceful monks who lived upon the Lion Turtle's back, the Shuji Clan had learned to use their bending as a means of control. Blessed with incredible airbending abilities by the Great Lion Turtle, they ruled over their territory with the power granted to them—lords of the wind, sovereigns of the sky. Their bending was swift, precise, and lethal when necessary. They were warriors, not scholars. Conquerors, not monks.
But times were changing.
With the great Wan leading the new era—an era where the Lion Turtles no longer provided protection, where humanity had to shape its own path—the Shuji Clan found their influence waning. Without the shelter of their guardian, the wilds crept closer, new enemies formed all around. Humanity was on their own and the once-mighty warriors of the wind found themselves vulnerable.
The Air Nomads upon the Lion Turtle were no better. For all their enlightenment, they were unprepared for a world without their celestial protector. Isolation had made them weak in the face of change.
Seeing the growing divide, Wan himself took it upon himself to broker peace. If humanity was to thrive in this new age, then the fractured remnants of the past had to be unified. Thus, a pact was forged—a peace agreement that would see the warrior airbenders of the Shuji Clan train alongside the pacifist monks of the Air Nomads.
To ensure the success of this treaty, two young brothers, sons of the Shuji Clan's patriarch, were sent to the Air Temple.
Renji and Yogan.
The damp air of the underground prison was heavy with silence. Yogan sat in the lotus position, his dark eyes steady as he gazed at Mariko through the iron bars.
She had said his name with such certainty. Yogan of the Shuji Clan. Son of the Patriarch. Brother of Renji.
It took every ounce of his control not to react.
A great deal of effort had been put into erasing his lineage, to sever the ties that bound him to his past. The Shuji Clan had made many enemies in their prime, and their fall from power had not been forgotten.
If the truth came to light, it would not be mere political intrigue—it would be war.
Yogan's fingers curled against his knees. "You know nothing," he said evenly.
Mariko's smirk widened, a glint of triumph in her eyes. "Oh, but I do."
She leaned closer, her voice a whisper between the bars. "Your family… your true family… made enemies across the land. Do you think they have been forgotten?" Her voice turned mockingly sweet. "Oh, Yogan. If they knew you were here, do you really think they'd welcome you back?"
Yogan remained silent, but his jaw tightened.
Mariko chuckled, the sound sharp and cruel. "That's what I thought."
He breathed deeply, willing himself to remain still, but his mind was racing.
His past was a ghost that refused to remain buried.
And now, it seemed, the world was beginning to remember.
Yogan remained motionless, his breathing measured, his posture unshaken. But deep beneath the surface of his calm expression, a storm brewed.
Mariko's words echoed in his mind, stirring memories he had spent years trying to bury. The past had always been a shadow, lurking at the edges of his thoughts, but now, dragged into the light, it stood before him in the form of a cruel smirk and knowing eyes.
She had found him out.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds in the prison were the distant echoes of dripping water and the occasional flickering of the torchlight against the damp stone walls.
Mariko leaned against the iron bars, her fingers wrapping around them lazily as she studied him. "You look so calm, Yogan. But I know what's going on inside that head of yours." Her voice was silky, teasing, and yet laced with venom. "You thought you could just live your life pretending the past didn't exist? That no one would ever find out?"
Yogan exhaled slowly through his nose, grounding himself in the rhythmic flow of his breath. The teachings of the Air Nomads had trained him well in controlling his emotions, in letting them pass like the wind rather than allowing them to settle like stone. But still—there were some wounds that could never fully heal.
Mariko's lips curled upward as she continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Your brother—Renji—the prodigy, the boy who mastered airbending before most children could even form a proper stance—he was the one who tried to overthrow the elders, wasn't he?"
Yogan's fingers curled ever so slightly. A movement so small that most would have missed it. But not Mariko.
Her smirk deepened.
"You were the one who stopped him, weren't you?" she mused, tilting her head as if she were studying a particularly fascinating specimen. "The little brother who was never meant to be more than a shadow. The one who wasn't supposed to matter."
Yogan's jaw tightened.
Mariko laughed softly, the sound echoing eerily in the dim corridor. "Oh, Yogan. It must have burned him to be defeated by you. Renji, the prodigy, the golden son of the Shuji Clan—brought down by his own brother."
Yogan's patience, finely honed through years of discipline, was wearing thin.
Still, he did not speak.
Mariko sighed, pushing off the bars with a dramatic stretch. "I have to admit, I find it tragic. All that effort to erase your past, to cut yourself off from the legacy of your family, and yet… here you are." She gestured around the prison with mock sympathy. "Locked away like a common criminal."
Yogan finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, his dark eyes like a void, unreadable and bottomless. When he spoke, his voice was calm, steady. "You talk too much, Mariko."
The smirk on her lips faltered for the briefest second before she recovered. "Oh, don't be like that," she cooed. "I'm only trying to help you."
He arched a slow brow, skepticism written plainly on his face.
Mariko grinned. "Come now, Yogan. I know the truth about you—your past, your family. That makes me very dangerous, doesn't it?" She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing, her voice syrupy sweet. "But it also makes me valuable."
Yogan narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.
Mariko's grin widened. "What if I told you that we could help each other?"
A humorless chuckle escaped Yogan's lips. "You expect me to trust you? After you betrayed me?"
Mariko shrugged. "Oh, Yogan. Betrayal is such a harsh word."
"It's the only word that fits."
She sighed, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. "Must you be so wounded? Look at the bigger picture. You're a prisoner. You don't have many options." Her gaze flickered, sharp as a dagger. "And I happen to have a way out."
Yogan did not react immediately. Instead, he simply studied her, searching for the cracks in her confidence.
Mariko was many things—a liar, a manipulator, a survivor. But one thing she wasn't was careless.
He knew better than to take her words at face value.
Still, she had made a point.
If she knew the truth about his lineage, others would soon find out. And once they did, they would come for him. Not for justice. Not for revenge.
But for what his name represented.
For what the Shuji Clan used to be.
Yogan inhaled slowly, filling his lungs with stale prison air. He exhaled just as slowly.
"What do you want?" he finally asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
Mariko's smile turned almost fond. "Now that's more like it."
She leaned in, her lips barely parted as she whispered through the bars.
"I want you, Yogan."
Yogan's heartbeat thundered in his ears. He had been prepared for many possibilities—interrogation, ransom, even execution if things went particularly south. But marriage?
He stared at Mariko as If she had just told him she was a spirit in disguise. His lips parted, but no words came out.
She waited patiently, watching his stunned silence with amusement before casually confirming it. "Yes," she said simply. "Marriage."
"To you?" Yogan finally managed, his voice edged with disbelief.
"Of course," she replied, her tone making it sound like the most obvious thing in the world.
For the first time since she had entered the prison, he felt truly off-balance. A woman he had met two nights ago, a woman who had seduced him, betrayed him, and orchestrated his imprisonment, was now proposing—no, declaring—that they were to be wed.
Mariko took a step closer to the iron bars, her eyes gleaming with calculated intent. "Think about it, Yogan," she continued, her voice dropping into something smooth, something persuasive. "You—who was able to defeat a prodigy bender, a powerful bender, one rumored to be on the same level of bending prowess as Wan himself."
Yogan stiffened.
"One hailed as the next great savior of the world," she went on, eyes gleaming in the dim torchlight. "Renji—the prodigy, the golden son of the Shuji Clan. Rumored to be next in line to master the other elements, just as Wan did." She let the words settle before her lips curled into a smirk. "And yet, you defeated him."
Yogan swallowed hard.
"You, the second-born son of the Shuji Clan's patriarch, defeated someone who was meant to be the future." She tilted her head slightly. "What does that say about you?"
He said nothing.
Mariko leaned in just a fraction closer, the air between them charged with something dark, something ambitious. "Your name already carries weight, Yogan. The Shuji Clan may have fallen from their former glory, but they are still powerful. They still have influence in a few kingdoms."
Then, her smirk widened. "And what better way to solidify that influence than marriage?"
Yogan's body went rigid.
He understood the words. He understood what she was saying. But his mind refused to accept it.
He stared at her as if she had lost her mind. "You want to marry me?"
Her smirk never wavered. "Yes."
"Are you insane?"
She laughed, shaking her head. "I think you underestimate the value of what this marriage would mean."
Yogan ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling sharply. "No, I think you overestimate what you think I'm worth."
Mariko's expression remained unreadable. "I disagree."
He studied her in silence, trying to understand the full scope of her plans. Every word, every movement—there was always something more behind it. He had thought he had understood her, back in that casino where they first met. Thought he had figured her out when they spent the night tangled together in sheets and shadows. But now… now, he could barely recognize her.
And then, she spoke the words that shattered whatever illusion he had left.
"I am Princess Mariko of the Zhen Earth Kingdom."
Everything inside Yogan froze.
His eyes widened as if she had just struck him across the face. "You're a what?"
She smiled, almost playfully, as if enjoying his reaction. "A princess," she repeated, her voice laced with satisfaction. "Daughter of King Jiang of the Zhen Earth Kingdom."
Yogan felt as if the air had been sucked from the room.
She was a fucking princess?
His mind reeled. He had spent two nights with this woman. Had met her as a waitress in a casino. Had— Spirits, he had been played in ways he hadn't even realized.
He stared at her, the disbelief clear in his voice. "Why the fuck would a princess be working as a waitress in a casino?"
Mariko simply smiled at him.
A long, heavy pause.
Then, finally, she answered.
"It's a long story."
Yogan narrowed his eyes. "Try me."
She tilted her head slightly, regarding him with something close to amusement. Then, with a sigh, she continued. "My kingdom isn't as powerful as I want it to be," she admitted, the first real hint of something personal slipping into her voice. "With this marriage, an alliance with the Shuji Clan, my kingdom will return to its true strength."
Then, for the first time, her expression darkened.
Her smirk faded. Her lips pressed into a thin line. And her eyes—her sharp, cunning eyes—burned with something else entirely.
Hate.
"Before that fool Wan weakened us," she said.
Yogan blinked.
She practically spat Wan's name like it was poison on her tongue. Her entire body radiated resentment, her hands curling slightly at her sides as if just saying his name disgusted her.
He had never seen such raw hatred before.
Mariko took a breath, composing herself before smiling once more. "I have already sent a messenger to your family home regarding our engagement," she said, her voice light again, as if they were discussing the weather. "My father should be sending an envoy to Daiyo to take us within a few days."
She turned then, stepping away from the cell as her entourage followed behind her.
Yogan could only watch.
He should have spoken. He should have said something. But no words came.
Before she ascended the steps, she paused.
She turned, glancing at him one last time.
Yogan was still seated in his lotus position, staring at her with unreadable eyes.
Mariko smirked.
"It's going to be a fun few days for us."
And then, she was gone
The sound of Mariko's footsteps faded up the stone steps, her entourage following in perfect rhythm. The iron door groaned as it shut behind her, sealing the room in silence once more.
Yogan remained still, his body rigid in the lotus position, but his mind was anything but calm.
His heart was still racing.
Even though the torchlight flickered, even though the prison air was cold, there was a strange heat burning beneath his skin. Not from anger. Not from fear. But from the sheer, overwhelming insanity of what had just happened.
He let out a slow, measured breath.
She's gone.
The words echoed in his mind, but they felt meaningless. Mariko had left the dungeon, but she hadn't left him. Her presence still lingered, wrapped around him like chains he had yet to feel tighten.
He should have felt relieved.
But all he felt was trapped.
Then—
A loud, rasping cackle burst from the shadows.
Yogan's head snapped toward the sound.
It came from the farthest corner of the dungeon, where the dim torchlight barely reached. The silhouette of an elderly man sat hunched in his cell, his thin shoulders trembling with laughter.
The sound was hoarse, dry—like someone who had gone days without water but still found amusement in the misfortune of others.
"Oh, boy," the old man wheezed, still chuckling. "Ohhh, that was priceless."
Yogan's jaw tightened. He had forgotten about him. The old man had been there when he was first thrown into this cell. He had been snoring the whole time, barely moving. Yogan had assumed he was either senile or simply didn't care.
But now—
The man leaned forward, his shadow stretching across the floor like a creeping ghost. Though his face was still hidden in the dim light, Yogan could feel his grin.
"You might just be the unluckiest bastard I've ever met," the old man said, his voice dripping with amusement. "Not only did you get caught in a setup, not only did you land yourself in a dungeon, but now you're engaged to a woman who could eat you alive."
Yogan exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to ignore the comment. He wasn't about to give this old man the satisfaction of a reaction.
But the laughter continued, wheezing and cruel. "Married to a princess," the old man mused. "And not just any princess—Princess Mariko of the Zhen Earth Kingdom." He whistled low. "Spirits, boy. That woman plays a longer game than most warlords I've seen."
Yogan narrowed his eyes. The old man's tone was what caught his attention. It wasn't just amusement—it was recognition.
"You know her?" Yogan asked, his voice flat.
The old man snorted. "I know of her." He tilted his head. "Don't tell me you had no idea who she was before you followed her to bed?"
Yogan's fists clenched.
The old man burst into laughter again. "Ohhh, you didn't! That makes this so much better!"
Yogan rolled his shoulders, willing himself to ignore the idiot in the other cell. He turned back toward the stone steps, his mind already moving, calculating.
Mariko's words replayed in his head, her voice sharp and poised, like a blade she had spent years perfecting.
"Before that fool Wan weakened us."
She had hated saying his name.
It wasn't just resentment. It wasn't just anger. It was loathing.
Yogan inhaled slowly, then exhaled just as steadily.
It might actually be a good thing she didn't know who he really was.
She had no idea that the power he had used to defeat Renji and Kezin in that three-way battle wasn't his own skill.
She had no idea that the only reason he had won was because the very force that had once made Wan the most powerful bender in history had taken over.
Yogan closed his eyes, remembering that moment.
The wind had roared around him, thick with a force so ancient that it did not belong to him.
The water had moved in ways that did not follow the usual bending forms—it had been pure instinct, a whisper from something older, greater.
He had not defeated Renji.
He had overwhelmed him.
Renji's airbending had been leagues ahead of his. His older brother had trained since childhood, perfecting techniques that few others had even dreamed of mastering. Kezin, the waterbending prodigy, had been just as deadly—his bending had been so fluid, so precise, that it was said he could take down an entire warship without breaking a sweat.
By all logic, by all reason—Yogan should have lost.
But something had awakened in him.
Something vast. Something primal.
Not just the Raava State.
Something more.
He exhaled slowly.
Wan called it the Raava State when they met in the Spirit World… but that's not what it felt like.
As the Raava's vessel, as Raava's host, he knew what it was like to feel her presence.
But that moment… that power…
It had been something beyond even her.
The Avatar State, he thought out loud.
The name felt right.
If the Raava State was the bond between Raava and her host, then the Avatar State was something greater—a state where Raava didn't just reside within him… but gave herself to him.
Not just her power.
Her energy.
The energy of the universe itself.
Yogan opened his eyes, staring at the iron bars in front of him.
Not even Wan had fully mastered that state.
And if Wan hadn't—
Then what was he supposed to do with it?
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, loud snore.
Yogan turned, blinking.
The old man had collapsed against the wall of his cell, his mouth hanging open as he snored obnoxiously.
Yogan narrowed his eyes.
He fell asleep that fast?
Something about that felt off.
His gaze flickered to the tiny window near the ceiling, where the golden light of the sun still poured through.
The sun was still high in the sky.
Was he just pretending?
Yogan stared at the old man for a long moment, his mind still racing.
Then, slowly, he leaned back against the wall of his own cell, crossing his arms.
He had no answers.
But he did know one thing.
Mariko would never stop until she got what she wanted.
And he would have to decide soon if she would see him as an ally…
Or as the second coming of her greatest enemy.
[A/N: Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]