Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1.

”We expect your answer within the next two days”, the emissary finishes, and stands to leave.

His deep bow is done with the air of a chore and there’s a scowl on his face as he exits the tent, taking his two guards with him.

Hakoda just stares after them for a moment before burying his face in his hands. There’s a hand on his shoulder almost instantly.

”Koda”, Bato says. ”You cannot seriously consider…”

Hakoda turns to look at Bato, the hand sliding off his shoulder. The other man wears a frown on his face and concern in his eyes. Hakoda glances over at Gilak, where he’s postured in the corner of the tent. He meets Hakoda’s eyes with an appraising look, but other than that, his features remain blank. The chief turns back to Bato.

”You heard the emissary”, Hakoda says. ”You know this is not merely a suggestion or a token of goodwill.”

The emissary’s words ring through Hakoda’s mind. ” It would be in the Southern Water Tribe’s best interest…”, ”The Firelord will be most displeased if his offer is denied”, ” it would stabilize the relations between the nations ”. There has only been peace for a little over a year. Only a year versus almost a century’s worth of battle. The Southern Water Tribe has barely started to recover, his people only now starting to heal.

There is a hardened glint in Bato’s eyes at Hakoda’s words.

”So, what?” he says. ”You’re just going to offer one of your children up to the fire nation, sacrifice one of them to keep…”

”Of course not!”

Hakoda hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he can’t help the anger that flares up within him at the mere suggestion that he’d be willing to send Sokka or Katara off to be a sacrificial koala lamb in a game of politics. Though it’s not even politics, Hakoda supposes. More like a thinly veiled threat dressed up as politics.

Bato, to his credit, backs down immediately. He sits down next to him at the table and reaches out a careful hand to rest on Hakoda’s forearm.

”Then what?” he asks. ”You’re right, I heard him loud and clear. There is no doubt in my mind that there will be retributions, should we deny this offer, and I know what that would mean for our tribe. But you also must realize that this is not only a peace offering, Hakoda. It’s yet another way for the fire nation to try and control us.”

”I know”, Hakoda replies.

He doesn’t claim to understand what made the fire nation decide to put down their arms and let peace be restored to the nations, he doubts anyone does, but he does realize that neither the fire lord’s nor the fire nation’s thirst for power and influence have diminished just because the war is over. The fire nation has made it abundantly clear that it does not intend to grant freedom to any of the colonies that has been laid under it during the war, and the leaders of the nation have not taken responsibility for any of the havoc that have been wrought upon the world.

There may not be an ongoing war anymore, but the fire nation still sees itself as reigning supreme over the other nations, and the other nations are too torn apart by the war, too weakened and scared of the consequences to challenge that notion. And this, forcing marriages between leaders or otherwise upstanding citizen’s of the other nations and fire nation nobility, seems to be yet another way to spread the reach of the fire nation’s control across the globe.

Hakoda has received messages from the northern water tribe, as well as several cities and settlements in the earth kingdom, of the same thing happening there, and some of the marriages have already been realized. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the same offer would be extended to the southern water tribe.

Had the southern water tribe been less devastated by the war, Hakoda might have refused. Had he been the chief of the northern water tribe, he might have been able to resist the forces he knows the fire nation will deploy if he says no. Tui and La, he’s tempted to say no even though he knows they will not stand a chance against yet another fire nation attack. They barely survived the last raid (and not all of them did, but Hakoda wills his mind away from Kya for the moment being), and their warriors are reduced to a handful of already war weary men and another handful of inexperienced teenagers who just had their childhoods handed back to them, not to mention that their only bender is his own 13-year old daughter.

Hakoda knows the city of Ba Sing Se and the city of Omashu had both refused the fire nation’s offer, but those were cities where the fire nation’s control had never reached, and so they were left untouched, although Hakoda had heard rumors of fire nation troops from the surrounding colonies creeping closer to Omashu every day, under the guise of protecting fire nation territory. The northern water tribe had accepted, and princess Yue was now betrothed to a fire nation nobleman, as far as Hakoda had heard. The smaller cities in the earth kingdom had all accepted too, except one, where the consequences had been dire, and the town was now under fire nation control where it previously hadn’t been.

Hakoda sighs.

”I have realized this would come to pass for some time now”, Hakoda says. ”I have turned it over and over in my head ever since I got the first messages of it happening in other places. I don’t see a way in which we can refuse that won’t leave us open to yet another fire nation attack.”

Bato squeezes his arm in reassurance, and Hakoda offers a tight smile.

”Some of our smaller tribes have chieftains with children that are of marrying age,” Gilak says, taking a step closer to the table where Hakoda and Bato are seated. ”They might be able to offer someone up.”

Hakoda winces at the phrasing. It reminds him too much of an animal being led to slaughter. He scrubs a hand across his face and sighs again.

”I have thought of that,” he confesses. ”But I can’t force any of our sister tribes to give up one of their own to the fire nation. I won’t.”

He feels Bato squeeze his arm again, and turns towards him.

”So, what are we going to do?” he asks, and by the worried look in his eyes Hakoda knows that Bato has guessed the answer already.

”We’re going to offer the fire nation my hand in marriage.”

Bato just blinks at him slowly, and Hakoda can see a muscle in his jaw tick.

”It’s the most reasonable thing to do,” Hakoda explains, before Bato has the chance to say anything, because he is sure that whatever Bato has to say it’s not going to be favorable. ”Since their main goal is gaining control over the other nations, whomever they send to marry me will obviously be sent here, so I would not have to leave the tribe. I’m also the chief of the biggest cove in the southern water tribe, and the head of the council of elders, which they will see as beneficial.”

”Hakoda,” Gilak interrupts. ”I mean no disrespect, since it seems like you have put a lot of thought into this, but do you really believe that it is in the tribes best interest to have you married to a member of the fire nation?”

Hakoda feels the weight of Bato’s hand on his arm, and the weight of his gaze upon his face, and it’s almost a relief to be able to turn away from his second in command to face Gilak instead.

”I don’t believe that any of this is in the tribe’s best interest,” he replies honestly. ”We’re kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place here. But I do believe that the fire nation will not take a refusal in stride. And I will not force anyone else in this tribe to go through with it.”

Gilak looks like he is mulling Hakoda’s answer over, and he opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Bato.

”Gilak, could you give us some privacy, please,” he says.

There is an edge of steel to his voice, and Gilak picks up on it as well. He looks between the two of them, a small, sardonic smile on his lips as he inclines his head in a bow.

”Sure thing,” he says. ”I’m guessing you have things to discuss that I needn’t be privy to.”

He leaves.

Hakoda considers himself to be a warrior, someone who walks into to battle with his head held high, who faces danger straight on if it means doing the right thing. But right now, alone with a quietly seething Bato next to him, the reassuring hand on his arm turning more and more into a vice grip every moment, he has the sudden instinct to run away, tail between his legs, to cower in corner somewhere. He slowly turns around, so that he’s once again facing the other man.

Bato stands up in one swift motion, sending the chair he was sitting in clattering to the floor in the process.

”What the fuck, Koda!” he exclaims. ”How long ago did you decide to just marry yourself off to some fire nation noble and not fucking tell me?”

Hakoda winces.

”I really was hoping that the fire nation would consider us too inconsequential to extend this kind of offer to us,” he says.

Bato just looks at him and scoffs, then he starts pacing.

”You know what, this is just like you,” he says, or, mutters, more accurately. ”Just being all noble and giving yourself up for the greater good.”

”And that’s a…bad thing?” Hakoda asks.

Bato scoffs again, and slams his hands down on the table right in front of Hakoda. Hakoda is a fearless warrior and if the startles a bit he’s sure that Bato doesn’t notice. Then again, Bato doesn’t seem too concerned about whether or not Hakoda almost fell off his chair right now.

”Yes, it is!” Bato says. ”You can’t just go and throw yourself valiantly into every dangerous or fucked up situation that comes your way. Sooner or later, it will end badly.”

”I mean, we have already lived through war,” Hakoda says, even though he knows it’s meaningless to fight Bato on this, even though he knows Bato has a point. ”This is just a marriage.”

Bato drags a hand across his face and groans.

”Just a marriage,” he mutters, more tom himself than anyone else. ”Just a marriage. Yeah, it’s just a marriage to the enemy. Do you even know who you’ll be marrying? No, of course not,” Bato replies, before Hakoda has even had the chance to open his mouth to answer. ”Of course not, because you’re just that much of a stickler for punishment, aren’t you? You could be marrying the firelord himself, for all we know!”

Hakoda can’t help the small snort of laughter that escapes him, although he knows it won’t do him any favors in this situation.

”I hardly think he’ll consider me worthy,” he replies.

Bato groans again.

”You’re insufferable, you know that?” he says. ”Did you even stop to consider how this would affect anyone else? Or were you too swept up in giving yourself up to keep the tribe safe?”

Hakoda can feel something soften within him at Bato’s words. Of course Bato would come at it in a roundabout way, way too proud and self-sacrificing to ask Hakoda outright if he’d ever considered how this decision would affect him.

”I have,” he says, reaching out to put his hand over Bato’s, where it’s resting at the table. ”I’ve thought about it a lot. And this hurts me just as much as it hurts you, but I can’t put my own happiness above the safety of our tribe, of our family, Bato.”

Bato sighs and turns his hand over so he can hold Hakoda’s hand properly.

”I know,” he says. ”I know. Spirits, you’re so fucking noble and it’s one of the things I love about you, but in situations like these it gets really fucking annoying, you know that?”

Hakoda smiles up at Bato, and brings his hand to his lips to place a kiss on his knuckles.

”I know,” he says. ”I’m sorry.”

Bato pulls on Hakoda’s hand until he gets up from his chair to stand in front of him. The smile he gives him is tinted with sadness, and he brings his hand up to rest on Hakoda’s cheek.

”Koda,” he says, almost whispers.

Hakoda steps closer, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Bato’s.

”I mean, if you can figure out another way, I’d love to hear it,” Hakoda says. ”This is not something I’m particularly looking forward to, either.”

Bato huffs out a laugh, breath ghosting across Hakoda’s lips as he does.

”I’ll try my best,” he says.

Bato closes the remaining distance between them and presses a kiss to Hakoda’s lips. Hakoda wonders if he will still get to this later, after it’s all done. He hopes so, but he also knows that he might not, which gives him all the more reason to savor it while it lasts. He’s lucky enough that he even got a second chance at love, after Kya passed away, and now he might lose it for the greater good. It doesn’t seem fair, but then again, war rarely is.

He withdraws slightly, reaching a hand up to tangle in Bato’s hair.

”I love you,” he says. ”You know that, right?”

Bato rolls his eyes at him.

”Of course I know that, Koda,” he says. ”I know you, and I know why you’re doing this. It doesn’t mean that I don’t get to be sad about it, though.”

Hakoda feels a surge of affection for the man in front of him. He counts himself lucky, again, that he’s got Bato, that Bato stands by his side, that he always has, and that he knows Hakoda in ways no one else does.

”What would I do without you?” Hakoda asks, because he’s a bit of a sap and will always wear his heart on his sleeve.

”Probably more things like this,” Bato replies. ”Speaking if which: when will you tell your children?”

”Dad’s marrying you off to some water tribe peasant.”

Zuko’s head jerks up to see Azula at his doorstep, leaning against the doorframe while inspecting her nails in an obvious attempt to come off as unbothered. Or maybe she genuinely doesn’t care. Zuko can rarely tell.

He puts down his book and sits up on his bed, giving his sister his full attention, knowing very well that she won’t leave until she’s done taunting him.

”What do you mean?” he says, not really registering the words that have come out of Azula’s mouth until now. Azula is always taunting him about something. Usually it’s inconsequential, her dangling something over his head because she can, because she’s the favorite, because she’s perfect and Zuko’s not.

”I heard him talk about it with one of his advisors,” she says. ”Apparently emissary Liang is there negotiating the terms as we speak.”

”You’re lying,” he says, narrowing his good eye at her.

Azula lies as often as she speaks the truth, to get her way or to come out on top or to get a rise out of someone (most often Zuko). He usually doesn’t call her out on it, because it’s no use, but this time what she’s telling him sends chills down his spine. It reminds him too much of the time she told him that his grandfather wanted him dead, but he quickly clamps down on that train of thought, dispelling it from his mind.

”Nope,” Azula says, and she pushes away from the door post and steps into Zuko’s room, sliding up to his desk, ruffling around the papers strewn about it, that air of boredom still in place.

Zuko’s mind is spinning.

”Why…” he starts.

Azula looks up at him and smiles, wide and sharp.

”Isn’t it obvious?” she says. ”He wants you out of the way. You’re the oldest, so you’re next in line for the throne. But we both know dear old dad would never hand over the crown to you. You’re useless. But if he carts you off to the south pole as some kind of peace offering, then that won’t be a problem anymore.”

Zuko grips his sheets tightly. It makes sense. His father will never see him fit to take the throne, had branded him as less than both metaphorically and physically years ago. Zuko had often wondered why his father had kept him around, why he hadn’t banished him or just killed him, right there and then. He had nurtured a small hope that it meant his father actually cared about him after all. But it seems his dad had just kept him around until he found some other use for him.

He feels sick to his stomach, but he’s determined not to let Azula know that it’s affecting him. He doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

”Is that all?” he asks.

Azula is stil smiling.

”He’s giving you away to the most useless tribe, too,” she says. ”If it were the northern tribe, or one of the earth cities, at least we could get something out of it. But no, he’s dumping you in the middle of nowhere, with people so inconsequential it’s hard to see why he’d bother at all. He should just do them all a service and wipe them out entirely.”

It strikes Zuko that this is yet another way to punish him. For being weak and imperfect and insubordinate. He wonders if it will ever stop, if he will ever stop paying for not being able to live up to the standards his father has set for him. He has tried so hard over the years, worked himself to the bone to master fire bending and sword fighting, to learn war tactics and never going against anything his father says, ever again, but it still isn’t enough. It will never be enough. Zuko is the shame of his father and now his father has found yet another way to strip him of his honor.

He keeps his face a careful mask of indifference as he turns to face his sister.

”You can leave now.”

But Azula isn’t done. She leans against his desk and taps a manicured fingernail to her chain, looking up in mock-contemplation.

”I wonder who you’ll marry,” she says. ”I’ve heard that water tribe women are pretty, at least, but not very bright. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.” When she looks at Zuko again, her eyes are sharp as razors. ”Or maybe you won’t get a wife at all. Maybe dad’s marrying you to a man.”

Zuko’s stomach sinks.He knows it’s just Azula trying to get a rise out of him, trying to get him to take the bait. But he still feels panic wrap its steel claws across his chest, squeezing hard. There’s no way Azula knows, no way she could have figured it out, and yet…

”I said, get out!”

He stands up, his hands suddenly ablaze without him really thinking about it, and he sends a blast her way. She dodges it easily, giggling gleefully as she does.

”Careful now, Zuko. If you’re going to become the wife of some water tribe savage, you’d better start acting more lady-like.”

”Get out!” he yells again, sending even more fire her way and this time she doesn’t even bother jumping out of the way, she just disperses it with a sweep of her hand, looking almost bored.

”Fine,” she says. ”I just wanted to warn you.”

And with that, she’s gone, slamming the door behind her.

Zuko just stares after her for a moment, chest heaving, before sinking down on his bed again.

This is worse than banishment, he thinks. If he were banished, he’d at least have some sort of freedom. Instead his father chooses to give him away to some backwards tribe, far away from home, like he is just a pai sho-piece that father can play at will, something to be discarded when he can no longer be useful. But then again, who is he trying to fool? He was never useful, not in his father’s eyes and not in his own. Zuko has clung to the hope that he will be able to somehow prove himself, regain his honor, but he realizes now that he never will. He sealed his fate the moment he spoke up against his father in that war room, and nothing he does will ever atone for that.

He briefly considers running away, but quickly discards that idea. Ozai would find him, and when he did, whatever happened to Zuko afterwards would probably be worse than being sent off to the south pole. Zuko has never been to the south pole, has never left the fire nation, and only rarely been outside the capital. He supposes it must be cold.

He falls back onto the bed and curls in on himself. Married. Zuko has never even kissed anyone. His chest feels too tight again. Arranged marriages are common in the fire nation, and Zuko never expected to get to choose who he’d marry anyway. When the time was right his father would have chosen a suitable bride for him. He thought it might be Azula’s friend, Mai, for a while. Her family is of noble descent, and hungry for power. They would have been well suited. And Zuko likes Mai well enough, he thought they might have made it work, even though they hadn’t chosen it for themselves. But that’s not going to happen now.

He can’t help but wonder who it will be. Azula had said that thing about it maybe being a man to insult him, to rub salt in the wound, Zuko knows this. It’s forbidden in the fire nation, relations between people of the same gender, but his uncle has told him that it’s not the same in other parts of the world. Regardless, Zuko doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want to be shipped away halfway across the world, onto some cold wasteland inhabited by backwards people who all probably hate the fire nation. He closes his eyes. Will he ever be able to come home again? He can feel a lump forming in his throat, pressure building behind his eyes, but he will not cry. Crying is for babies, and Zuko is a man. He’s about to get married, for fuck’s sake.

He cries anyway.

Chapter Text

Hakoda doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sokka this angry. He looks like he wants to punch something, or set something on fire (which is a bit ironic, considering the situation).

”You can’t do this!” he says, his voice breaking over the last word. ”It’s not right!”

Sokka’s hands are curled into tight fists. He’s gotten up from his chair and is leaning over the table, looming in a way that might have been threatening had he not been Hakoda’s lanky, fourteen year old son. Katara is sitting next to him. She hasn’t said anything at all, she’s just looking at him like he betrayed her.

”I understand that you’re upset, you have every right to be,” Hakoda says. ”But I’m doing this for the tribe. The peace we have with the fire nation is tentative, at best, and this will strengthen the relationship between our nations.”

He doesn’t mention the fact that he’s fairly sure the fire nation will stage an attack if he refuses. He doesn’t want to scare his children, and it’s not information they need. The war is over, and they should have the chance feel safe within their own home.

”So what, you’re just going to marry the enemy?” Sokka says. ”Someone who’ll come to our tribe, live in our home, and we’re just supposed to be okay with that?”

Hakoda sighs. Usually he likes that his children are headstrong, that they can tell right from wrong and that they stand up for what they believe in, even if they are only children. Right now, though, he just needs them to understand.

”I cannot force you to be okay with anything, Sokka. But it’s the way it’s going to be.”

Sokka seems to bristle at that. He doesn’t say anything else, just storms out of their cabin, and Hakoda is left alone with his daughter. When she looks at him, he sees that she has tears in her eyes, and there’s a painful lurch in Hakoda’s chest at the sight.

”It’s not right,” she says, echoing the words of her brother. ”I don’t want a stranger in our home, especially not one from the fire nation. I don’t need a new parent.”

Hakoda is not surprised at Katara’s words. Out of everyone, she was the one who took Kya’s death the hardest. For a long time, Hakoda feared that he would never get his carefree, happy daughter back. It had taken Katara a long time to grieve, and she had never really gotten past the loss, not in the way the rest of them did, where there would always be something missing but where the day-to-day life eventually dulled the raw pain to a faint ache. For Katara, the loss would probably always feel fresh, in some ways.

She had learned to live with it, eventually, and she had learned to laugh and play and just be a child again, to Hakoda’s relief. But she would always miss her mother more fiercely than probably any of them, even Hakoda himself. Katara had even had trouble accepting Bato as Hakoda’s partner at first, not wanting anyone to take the place of Kya. It wasn’t until she had seen that Bato made Hakoda happier, and that he had no intention of acting like a surrogate parent, that she finally warmed up to their relationship. And Bato was someone Katara had known all of her life.

”And you won’t get a new parent. This is not what that is,” Hakoda says.

”Then what is it?” Katara asks, and Hakoda can see in her eyes that she wants him to give her an answer she can accept, that she wants an explanation that makes sense. Hakoda is not sure he can give it to her.

”It’s politics,” he says. though he knows that will be wholly insufficient. ”If I accept their offer, we will have something that binds the fire nation to us. A bridge between our cultures, so to speak. It will help further the understanding between our countries. It will help keep the peace.”

Katara looks at him, her eyes piercing, like she can see right through him. Maybe she can.

”What does Bato think of it?” she asks.

Hakoda can’t help but smile. His daughter is compassionate, always thinking about others and how they might feel. He’s proud of her for that, and he sees so much of Kya in her in moments like this.

”Bato understands,” he says. ”He may not be happy about it, but he understands.”

Hakoda will try to be honest with his children, whenever he can. He knows this is something that is hard to wrap your head around when you’re a teenager, but he wants to try his hardest to be as truthful as he can when he answers their questions. He owes them that.

Katara shakes her head.

"well, I don’t understand,” she says. ”I know I can’t stop it, but I don’t understand. And I don’t like it.”

Hakoda sighs.

”That’s… alright. I get that it’s hard to understand. But thank you for trying, at least.”

Katara’s mouth is a hard line, but she comes over to give Hakoda a hug anyway. Maybe it’s as much for her as it is for him.

”I love you,” Hakoda tells his daughter.

She just nods.

”I’m going to find Sokka,” she says. ”Someone needs to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Hakoda smiles at his daughter, but as soon as she leaves he sags down in his seat. He can’t help but wonder what he has done, to his small family, to his partner, to himself.

Bato finds him in bed, later that night. He’s been out with the fishing boat all day, but now he crawls under the covers next to Hakoda. He smells faintly of fish and soap, and it should be off-putting but it’s a smell that Hakoda associates so intimately with Bato that he’s grown to love it.

”How did it go?” Bato asks, lying on his side to face Hakoda and reaching a hand out to rest on his neck.

Hakoda sighs.

”About as good as you’d expect,” he says. ”Sokka hasn’t talked to me all day, and if looks could kill I would be dead several times over now. Katara’s trying her best to understand, I think, but she’s disappointed in me.”

Bato hums and starts rubbing small circles into Hakoda’s skin with his thumb.

”I mean, I can’t blame her,” Bato says. ”I’m disappointed in you.”

There’s no vitriol in Bato’s voice as he says it, though, and Hakoda huffs out a laugh.

”As long as you don’t start giving me the silent treatment as well, I think I’ll just have to handle the disappointment.”

”We’ll see.”

They fall silent for a while. Hakoda slides his hand over to rest on Bato’s waist, feels the warmth of his skin through his sleeping tunic. He likes these quiet moments with Bato. He had been young when he met Kya, and their love for each other was strong and passionate from the start, their relationship a flurry of emotions and wants and learning to live with each other amidst all of that. Just as their relationship had started to settle into something a bit calmer, Sokka was born, and then Katara, bringing with them a new kind of chaos. And now, she was gone.

Being with Bato meant not only being with someone he had known for a long time before there were any romantic feelings involved (although Hakoda suspects that he’s always been carrying a small torch for the other man, and Bato has confessed that he had a serious crush on Hakoda in their teenage years), but also getting together with someone when he was well into adulthood. Their relationship had always been calm, and steady, somewhere to find rest.

He wonders how many quiet moments like this he will get with Bato once his fire nation spouse is here. He finds the thought of someone who’s not Bato sharing his bed, his life, a bit nauseating.

”I wonder who it will be,” Hakoda says.

Bato raises an eyebrow at him in question.

”The person I’m marrying,” Hakoda clarifies.

Bato sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again he looks sad.

”I’m not sure I can handle being someone on the side, Koda,” he says, and Hakoda’s heart sinks. “I understand that you’re doing what you think is best, and I understand your reasoning for it, but the idea of someone other than me sharing your bed, and me just being… Marriage is something to be respected, Hakoda. Even the ones entered for reasons other than love.”

Hakoda never imagined he would marry again. Marriage in their tribe was done out of love and tradition, sure, but it was also a union done for the sake of the children it was to produce, the marriage protecting their birthrights. Hakoda already had children, and Bato was perfectly fine with just being “uncle Bato” to Sokka and Katara, having no need to claim the title of parent that a marriage to Hakoda would grant him. And, in some ways, Hakoda had seen not getting married again as a way to honor Kya’s memory. He’s never told Bato this, but he suspects Bato understands.

Now, though, that will no longer be the case. He is marrying again, and not even the person he loves. Hakoda understands where Bato is coming from. Marriage is viewed as something sacred in their tribe, and while it is legal to dissolve a marriage, extra-marital relationships is very much frowned upon. Maybe he should have just married Bato, and then he’d no longer be eligible and this whole situation wouldn’t have happened in the first place. But then again, that would mean that some other poor soul in their tribe would have to go through with it.

“Spirits, Koda, I can almost hear you thinking. If you don’t slow down you’re going to strain something.”

Hakoda is brought out of his thoughts and is rewarded with a smile from Bato. He tries his best to return it, but suspects it comes out as more if a grimace.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s just that… this is a mess, isn’t it?”

Bato barks out a laugh.

“You can say that again.”

Hakoda tightens his grip on Bato’s waist, sliding closer to the other man. He kisses him, all soft and chaste.

“You will always have my heart, love,” Hakoda says. “But I understand. I would never force you into an arrangement you’re not comfortable with.”

Bato leans back far enough for Hakoda to catch the roll of his eyes.

“You’re a sap, Koda,” he says, but it’s oh so fond. “And I know you wouldn’t. I just want you to know where I stand.”

They both leave the part where this basically means there is now a time limit on their relationship unspoken, but it makes itself known in the way Bato kisses him, hot and needy and a little desperate. It makes itself known in the way they cling to each other, the way they tear at each others clothes, the way they make love, quick and reckless, the way they hold each other afterwards, not an inch of air between them, as they both drift off to restless sleep.

The emissary still wears that same scowl from last time when Hakoda meets up with him to relay that they will accept the fire nation’s offer for marriage, and that it is his hand that will be offered. The emissary (Hakoda wants to say his name is Chang, but he really couldn’t be bothered to learn it, and his name seems like the least important part in all of this) just gives him a curt nod when Hakoda has finished speaking.

“Very well,” he says. “We will return with your betrothed in a few weeks time, look out for one of our messenger hawks. Then you will have one month to get acquainted with each other before the wedding. The fire nation will officiate the wedding to make sure it all goes according to tradition.”

To make sure that we don’t back out at the last minute, you mean, Hakoda thinks but doesn’t say.

The emissary stands abruptly, rolling up the scroll of paper in front of him and stuffing it in his bag. Hakoda is suddenly confused. He turns his head to make eye contact with Bato and Gilak, standing behind him. Bato just shrugs, eyebrows furrowed, and Gilak looks at the emissary.

“Well, who,” Hakoda starts, and the emissary pauses his movement, looking at Hakoda with an eyebrow raised, as if he’s impatient. “Who will… be my spouse?”

Hakoda feels a bit embarrassed, as if it’s a stupid question, and the smile that the emissary gives him is the kind of smile you give a small child who’s just asked a question to which the answer is obvious.

“Well, there are several suitable candidates,” the emissary says, speaking slowly as if Hakoda is somehow stupid. “We have yet to decide who will be sent here. But don’t you worry, we will find someone suitable to your status.”

Hakoda doesn’t understand what that means, and something about the whole ordeal sits wrong with him. It’s as if the fire nation has this endless supply of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, all just waiting to get shipped off to the furthest corner of the globe to marry someone they haven’t even met, without having any choice.

“The person you choose,” Hakoda starts, keeping his tone carefully neutral. “Will they have any say in the matter?”

The emissary looks at him as if he doesn’t understand the question.

“It’s an honor to be chosen for these kinds of missions,” the emissary says. “Whoever is chosen will be proud to represent the fire nation in this matter.”

This is all wrong, Hakoda thinks. Not only will he himself have to enter a marriage he does not want, but some poor soul from the fire nation will be sent here to live out their life with Hakoda without being offered the chance to refuse. The urge to speak up against it sits heavy in his tongue, but he forces himself to stay quiet. There is no use in angering the fire nation diplomat now, not when it’s already settled.

The emissary seems to misinterpret his silence, giving Hakoda a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I can assure you that your spouse will be to your liking,” he says. “All possible candidates knows what this role will demand of them.”

Hakoda barely suppresses a shudder.

“That’s not what I…” he starts, then changes his mind. “I’m sure whoever you choose will be lovely,” he continues instead. “I just hope that they will be prepared for what a life on the South Pole entails.”

The emissary closes the flap on his messenger bag and hands it over to one of the guards.

“If nothing else, they will find out,” he says.

He offers Hakoda a deep bow with the same reluctance as a few days prior, then leaves. Hakoda remains frozen in his spot.

”Fucking fire nation,” Gilak sighs as he sits down in the chair next to Hakoda. ”I would say good riddance, but I guess now one of them will become a permanent fixture in our tribe in just a few weeks.”

Somehow Hakoda has been so caught up in doing what’s right to protect his tribe, in his own sacrifice and the reactions of those he loves that he hasn’t really stopped to think about the actual person that will, in just two months, become a part of that tribe and of his family. In a few weeks time, a stranger will arrive, a stranger from the nation they have been at war with for almost a century, and Hakoda will marry that stranger. And that stranger will probably want as little to do with this entire arrangement as Hakoda does.

”But hey, at least the fire nation have taken steps to ensure that whoever it is is a good lay, right?” Gilak jokes, and Hakoda feels nauseous.

Will he have to consummate his marriage with someone who is as unwilling as he is? What kind of man does that make him?

”Gilak,” Bato says, and there is a warning in his voice.

Gilak puts up his hands in surrender.

”Yeah I know, I know, bad joke. But what else are you supposed to do? This is absurd.”

It is absurd. Hakoda realizes now how lucky he is that his tribe abandoned the tradition of arranged marriages long before he ever considered marrying. Sure, some people here still enter marriages because it will be mutually beneficial to them, but then it’s by their own choosing. No one is expected to promise off their children to someone long before they’re of marrying age anymore, and all unions must be entered willingly by both participants. Hakoda have never been expected to marry for anything else than love, and yet here he is.

”Hakoda,” Bato says, coming to stand next to him. ”You need to call a council meeting. The council must know what is about to happen, and why.”

Hakoda sighs.

”I know,” he says. ”I sent out the messengers yesterday. We convene in the great hall two nights from now.”

Bato puts a hand on his shoulder.

”It will be alright, Koda,” he says.

But Hakoda doubts it.

- - - - -

”Prince Zuko?”

Zuko starts, turning towards the voice. Iroh steps into his room, worry etched into his features. Zuko looks down on his own hands, halted in the middle of folding up a robe. Oh yeah, he reminds himself. Packing. That’s what he’s supposed to be doing.

”Uncle,” he says, but his voice sounds distant even to his own ears.

Iroh steps fully into the room, careful to close the door behind him.

”Are you alright, prince Zuko?” he asks.

”I’m…” Zuko says, looking once again at the robe still clutched in his hands. It’s a nice one, made out of silk with an intricate dragon embroidered on its back. He likes it, but he supposes it’s too cold for where he’s going. He lets it slip to the floor.

In a way he’s grateful to Azula, for telling him beforehand. It meant the news didn’t come as a shock, it meant that Zuko could school his features into something resembling acceptance and indifference, although he had been hoping that his sister had just been lying all the way up to his father actually telling him.

And now he’s betrothed, engaged to be married. To the chief of the southern water tribe.

”Zuko?” his uncle asks, his voice soft, and Zuko realizes he’s spaced out again.

”I’m fine, uncle,” he says, his voice toneless. ”I just need to pack.”

”It’s a disgrace,” his uncle says. ”You shouldn’t have to do this.”

Zuko looks up at his uncle and blinks a few times.

”It’s important,” he says. ”For the fire nation to be able to spread its influence and culture to the less fortunate of our nations. It’s an honor, really to be able to act as a representative of our superior way of living…”

”Zuko!” Iroh interrupts, and when Zuko looks at his uncle again, he looks angry. ”You’re just a child.”

Zuko shakes his head.

”I’m not,” he says. ”I’m old enough to marry and my father has chosen my spouse.”

He turns away from his uncle walks up to his dresser again. Surely he must own something that’s suited to the South Pole climate? If his father had given him more time to prepare for his journey he could have asked the royal seamstresses to make something for him, but since they leave in the morning there’s no time for that.

Zuko doesn’t realize he’s conjured up fire until the garment he’s holding starts burning and the smoke coming off of it makes his eyes water. He drops the piece of clothing on the floor, just looking at the flames licking its edges until his uncle puts the fire out with a sweep of his hand.

There had been a lot of people at the meeting, more than Zuko would have expected. Zuko hadn’t understood why until his father had revealed who he was supposed to marry. Then it made perfect sense. They were all there to witness his humiliation.

Zuko had been drilled in military strategy since he was a small boy. He knew that water benders draw their power from the moon and that it therefore was best to attack during the day, preferably during the period of the new moon, since that is when they are at their weakest. He knew the weak points of the traditional earth kingdom amour. He knew where to strike with his swords to incapacitate his enemy, and where to strike to kill.

He knew all the leaders of the other nations by heart, their lineage, their names, their ages, their prowess in battle and their experience as leaders. He knows Hakoda, chief of the southern water tribe, is a grown man. And he has accepted the offer of Zuko’s hand in marriage.

He had not moved a muscle when his father had told him, but now, his hands are shaking uncontrollably.

”Zuko,” his uncle says, yet again, and his voice is back to gentle.

Zuko turns back to his dresser.

”Maybe I could just wear layers,” he mumbles, more to himself than anyone else, picking up garment after garment and putting it on his bed. ”Will I need to pack my armor? No, the war is over, that would just be stupid. I still want my swords, though, maybe if I tell them they’re ceremonial they won’t think of it as an aggression…”

”Zuko,” his uncle repeats, more insistent this time.

Zuko whirls around to face him.

”What, uncle, what?” he yells. ”What good does your pity do me? My father has decided that this will be my fate and we both know what will happen if I go against him again. So I will pack my things, and tomorrow I will board a ship that will take me to the south pole and in two months time I’ll be married to the chief of the water tribe.”

There is silence when his voice rings out, and he just stares at his uncle, the sting of tears in his eyes. He blinks them away. His uncle sighs.

”I know there are some garments left from the southern raiders, I will ask the staff to bring them to you. They should be enough to keep you warm once we get there,” he says.

Zuko’s hands falls to his sides. He wasn’t even aware that he had raised them. He stares at his uncle.

”We?” he asks, and her tries to keep the hope out of his voice.

”I’m coming with you, nephew,” Iroh tells him. ”I figured you could use a familiar face with you on this journey.”

Something in Zuko unwinds, calms down.

”I, uh…” he says, falters.

Uncle just smiles at him, but it’s still tinged with sadness. He clasps his hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

”Make sure to get some rest once you’ve finished packing,” he says. ”We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Being stuck on a boat in the middle of the ocean with your uncle, who keeps badgering you to play pai sho with him and stages impromptu concerts with the crew while slowly creeping towards what feels like your doom sucks, Zuko decides. He’s read all of the books he brought with him and has drunk enough tea to last him a lifetime. He is slowly going insane from the monotony and boredom, but he also wants it to drag on forever, because he knows what awaits him at the end of this journey.

His uncle has not tried to talk to him about what is coming since the night in Zuko’s bedroom. Zuko suspects that all the tea and the pai sho and the (dreadful, dreadful) singing is his uncle’s way of trying to keep his mind off things, and he supposes he should be grateful, but more than anything it just frustrates him. They both know what’s coming, so what’s the point in pretending?

Other than the small crew, Zuko and Iroh, the other only passenger is a handmaid named Noriko, who is going to stay with Zuko once they reach the South Pole. She isn’t one of Zuko’s regular servants, apparently handpicked by his father to accompany him. She is pleasant enough, but Zuko also knows that she is his father’s spy, here to keep him in check and to report back everything of relevance to the fire nation.

His father had come to see him off, which Zuko hadn’t expected. Azula had been there too. Ozai had talked about the importance of his mission, how he would take part in the wider spread of the fire nation culture and customs, and how he would teach these savages their way of living. Zuko knows it’s a load of hog monkey shit. His father could have married him off to one of the more prestigious kingdoms, could have sent him as an ambassador or even a spy. But he didn’t do any of that. Instead he promised him to a man old enough to be Zuko’s father, when same sex relationships are both shunned and looked down on in the fire nation, head of a tribe so weakened by the war it barely exists anymore. Zuko knows that this is his father’s way to squash whatever pride he has left, to show Zuko that Ozai, and Ozai alone, is in charge of Zuko’s fate.

But Zuko had bowed deep anyway, and thanked his father for giving him this opportunity.

Azula had asked him to bring her back a water tribe spear, if he were ever allowed to visit. She was unusually somber, and Zuko may have been led to believe that she actually cared about him, if she hadn’t sent him off with a:

”Tell chief Hakoda I said hi!”

They haven’t seen land for days now, open water stretching in every direction. The crew is wary of him. He might be disgraced, but he is still their prince. They’re respectful but distant. Noriko is a downright chatterbox, talking his ear off whenever she has the chance, usually about trite gossip from the fire nation court. Zuko just tunes her out, but his uncle seems happy to indulge her. She reminds Zuko of Azula’s friend Ty Lee, and he assumes she’s just as deadly as Ty Lee beneath that cheerful facade.

The days pass by slowly, but it’s the nights that Zuko fear. When Zuko is alone in his cabin, there is nothing to keep his mind from straying to what awaits him at the end of this journey. In his mind chief Hakoda turns into this looming figure, not unlike his father, and he feels sick at the thought of sharing a bed with this man, more than twice his age. He wonders if Hakoda will expect him to play the part of a subservient wife, wonders what will happen if he refuses. He wills time to slow down, to stop, but every morning the sun rises, and he with it.

When close to two weeks have passed, Noriko fetches their messenger hawk,

”There are only a few days until our arrival,” she says. ”It is only polite to let them know we’re coming.”

She ties the scroll to the messenger hawk’s leg and sends her off, turning to Zuko with a big smile on her face.

”Hopefully they’ll have a big feast prepared for us when we arrive,” she says. ”I don’t know about you, prince Zuko, but I could certainly go my whole life without tasting chef Ikem’s stew ever again. I know he says the secret ingredient is love, but i strongly suspect it’s just sea water.”

Zuko ignores her, his gaze trained on the messenger hawk until it’s just a small dot on the horizon, dread settling in his stomach.

- - - - -

Hakoda is having dinner with his children and Bato when he gets word about the messenger hawk. It has been a strange few weeks. His children are still disappointed in him, but no one, especially not his talkative son, can give someone the silent treatment for two weeks, and Sokka had cracked the same day Hakoda had given his reply to the fire nation emissary. He had let Hakoda know in no uncertain terms that he would hate whoever the fire nation sent to them.

Hakoda had tried to reason with him, tried to explain why it is wrong to assume things about people just because of where they come from, but Sokka, being the stubborn kid that he is (”wonder where he gets that from”, Bato had said with a roll of his eyes when Hakoda had voiced his complaints to him) wouldn’t budge. A tentative truce had formed between them after that, though, and with the days passing, they could almost pretend like everything was back to normal.

Katara had taken a different route, asking him questions, still trying to understand, but Hakoda isn’t sure that his answers are the ones she is looking for. He thinks she is searching for a sign that this is something Hakoda genuinely wants, something he believes in, and none of his answers about politics and peace seem to appease her. He supposes the notion of marriage as a sacrifice to the greater good is a concept too foreign for a thirteen year old, and he’s happy it is. Katara sometimes looks at him with such sadness in her eyes Hakoda can barely stand it.

And Bato has been, well, Bato, through it all. A calm port in the middle of a storm, listening to Hakoda’s fears and trepidations, a steady presence by his side. Hakoda knows he’s hurting, they both are, and every day that passes is one day less they’ll have together. They try to make the most of it, spending more time together than they have in years, going on hunting trips together, Bato joining in on most of their family dinners, and spending every night in Hakoda’s bed rather than in his own cabin. Time is slipping through their fingers, but they try to hold on as best as they can.

The council of elders had listened to him when he told them, they had understood his reasoning, and most had sided with him, thinking it was the best solution. The only glaring exception was his own mother. Kanna had called him an idiot child in front of all the other council members, before leaving the meeting, declaring that she could not take any part in this. Hakoda had tried to talk to her afterwards, but she refused to see things from his perspective, calling him an idiot again for giving himself up so easily. Hakoda knows that her anger comes from a good place, comes from wanting to protect him, but the situation is difficult enough as it is, without having to fight his own mother.

Tonight had been a quiet night, all of them tired after a long day of what seemed like endless chores, enjoying their meal together in silence and relative calm, a welcome respite from everything that has been going on these last few weeks. Until that everything decides to once again make itself known in a form of a fire nation messenger hawk.

Hakoda reads through the message in silence, three pair of eyes trained on him as he does.

”The boat will arrive within three days,” is all he says once he’s finished.

The letter hadn’t really contained much more information than that, just a short instruction to be prepared for their arrival. The handwriting is soft and flourished, clearly that of a woman. Hakoda wonders if it is his spouse to be who has written the letter.

Sokka snatches the letter from him before Hakoda has the chance to react, skimming through it with a look of distaste on his face.

”There’s three of them?” he asks when he’s done.

Hakoda shrugs.

”You don’t really expect them to arrive here all on their own, do you, son?”

Sokka juts his chin out in a sign of defiance.

”So you’re just going to let three people from the fire nation set up camp here, among us? How do you know they won’t attack us?”

Hakoda sighs.

”I don’t,” he says. ”But we have to take their word for it. And what would they have to gain by attacking us? They’re outnumbered, and if they wanted to attack us they could, without going through this charade of marriage to do it.”

Oh, Hakoda wishes it was a charade, would actually prefer it to reality right now. But nothing the fire nation has done so far has indicated that this is a trick. Hakoda has no reason to doubt that the ship arriving in three days time will actually contain his betrothed, and not a fire nation army ready to attack.

”You don’t know that,” Sokka protests. ”For all you know, this bride of yours could be a secret assassin!”

”Sokka…” Hakoda says, massaging his temples.

Sokka stands up, slamming his palms onto the table hard enough to make Katara jump in her seat.

”You’re just going to let them waltz in here like nothing has happened? Like they haven’t been at war with us for a hundred years, like they didn’t kill mum?”

”Sokka, that is enough!”

It’s not Hakoda who speaks up, but Bato.

”You’re out of line,” Bato says, and his voice is calm but it has an edge to it that Hakoda has never heard Bato use with any of his children. ”Nothing about this situation is ideal but it is what it is and you’re going to have to learn to live with it.”

”Why are you so calm about this?” Sokka asks Bato, except he doesn’t ask as much as throws it at him like an accusation. ”It’s like you don’t even care…”

”I care a lot!” Bato interrupts, his voice raised. ”I love your father and it’s tearing me apart to see him go through with this, but he’s doing it because he cares. He cares about this tribe, but more than that he cares about you. He wants to keep you safe.”

Sokka looks shell shocked. Bato has never raised his voice at Sokka, or Katara, has never been anything other than kind and patient towards Hakoda’s children, loving them and caring for them maybe not as a parent, but as someone who is and wants to be as big a part of their life as they’ll allow him to. Bato seems to shrink in on himself as he realizes what he’s done.

”Sokka,” he starts, but Sokka doesn’t let him finish. He all but flees the cabin, running out into the night.

Hakoda doesn’t hesitate a moment before following him. Sokka is fast, but Hakoda knows his son. He finds him by the village watch tower, sitting in the snow with his back to the wall of ice surrounding their encampment, knees drawn up, his arms hugging them close to his chest. Hakoda sits down next to him, close enough for their arms to press together.

”You know, Bato is going to beat himself up about raising his voice at you for at least a week. You can use this to your advantage. I know you’ve always had your eye on that hunting knife of his.”

There’s no reply from Sokka, no indication that he even heard Hakoda. Hakoda sighs.

”Listen,” he starts, but then Sokka speaks.

”I don’t want you to do it,” he says, and his voice is so small. Hakoda preferred it when he was yelling at him.

”I know you don’t,” Hakoda replies.

”Then why are you doing it?” Sokka asks. Hakoda turns then to look at his son, who is watching him with wide eyes, shining with unshed tears. ”Bato said you’re doing it for us, but… I don’t want this.”

Hakoda’s heart aches. He puts an arm around Sokka, drawing him closer into a hug, and Sokka goes willingly, burying his face in Hakoda’s chest.

”I’m so happy that the war ended before you were old enough to fight,” Hakoda says. ”War is ugly. And when you’ve seen what war can do, you will do anything to stop it, to keep the peace.”

There are still things Hakoda leaves unsaid, like how this is a choice he’s made to placate the fire nation, like how there is no doubt in his mind that the fire nation will attack them again if they see it fit, like how if there is a chance that having one of the fire nation’s own here, in their village, will diminish the likelihood of them making the tribe their target, even just by a fraction, then it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. Sokka doesn’t need to know that.

The boy falls further into Hakoda’s hug.

”I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he says. ”And I’m sorry I yelled at Bato.”

”It’s alright,” Hakoda says. ”We can handle it.”

If he hears Sokka sniffle, he chooses to ignore it. Sokka has never been one to show his emotions openly, has always wanted to appear stoic and mature, and Hakoda knows he will only allow himself this moment of breakdown if Hakoda doesn’t acknowledge it. So he doesn’t. He just holds Sokka until the sniffles subside, until he sits up and unceremoniously wipes his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. Hakoda chooses to ignore that as well.

”I want to go home,” Sokka declares.

”Then let’s go home, son.”

Bato does end up giving Sokka his hunting knife.

Chapter Text

Zuko tries, and fails, to suppress a shiver. It’s cold, has been cold for days, their ship gliding past massive icebergs and tearing through ice floes drifting into their path. For the latest hour or so, there has been a speck of white in the distance growing bigger and bigger as they approach. Zuko can make out a settlement through his binoculars, smoke rising from the small cabins and tents, a large igloo adorning the center of the tiny village. There is a wall of ice and snow surrounding the settlement, and Zuko almost scoffs at its inadequacy as a defense.

He remembers his uncle telling him that there are no water benders left in the southern water tribe, that their soldiers had wiped them all out, through kidnappings and killings. Zuko is not sure how he feels about that. He understands that war has to come at a cost, that the fire nation can’t allow the hostile nations to keep their benders because they would pose a threat, but it also feels wrong to rob an entire nation of its benders. Zuko has always been taught that his bending is a gift, that it’s sacred, and powerful fire benders are revered in his home country.

”How are you feeling, prince Zuko?”

His uncle has sidled up to him, silent as a cat. Zuko looks at him out of the corner of his eye, but Iroh is looking straight ahead, gaze locked on the small outcrop of solid land growing bigger and bigger with each passing minute.

”Cold,” Zuko answers. ”I can’t believe it is almost summer here.”

His uncle hums.

”It’s cold, but I’m sure you have noticed that the sun is up through most of the night. Come June the sun will not set at all for several weeks,” his uncle tells him. ”Fire benders have always stayed away from the poles because of the cold, but if we were to acclimatize, I believe our bending would be exceptionally strong during the summer months, when Agni blesses this place with his constant presence.”

Zuko looks up at the sun, high in the sky since it is almost midday. It barely gives any warmth here, but if he reaches within himself he can feel the fire within him connect with the sun in the sky, burning a little brighter. He exhales with a small puff of smoke.

They’ve gotten so close to the village now that Zuko no longer needs his binoculars to make out the tiny houses and tents. If he strains his eyes he can just make out people milling about.

”It’s small,” he comments.

The cities of the fire nation that he has visited have all been large and filled with people. This is… barely a village.

”The war took a heavy toll on the southern water tribe,” Iron tells him.

Zuko’s hands curl into fists at this sides.

”They’re going to hate me, aren’t they?”

His uncle turns to look at him.

”Don’t be so quick to judge them, nephew, and maybe they will extend the same curtesy to you.”

There are only three people there to greet them as they lower the bridge of the boat onto the snow-clad port of the southern water tribe. Zuko supposes he should be happy that the entire town isn’t here to bear witness to his disgrace. The welcome committee is just three men, two of them about his father’s age and one a bit older, maybe closer to uncle’s age although that’s hard to tell. He wonders which one is chief Hakoda, although he supposes it hardly matters, in the end.

He should probably take the lead, but he’s frozen in place, only moving forward as his uncle places a hand between his shoulder blades and gently nudges him forward. Noriko is the first one out, greeting the three men with one of her wide smiles and a deep bow.

”It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says. ”I’m Noriko.”

One of the men steps forward, bowing his head to Noriko and offering her a smile of his own.

”A pleasure to meet you, as well,” he tells her. ”I’m Hakoda, chief of the wolf cove of the southern water tribe, and these are my advisors, Bato and Gilak.”

The older of the men offers Noriko a jovial smile and a small wave, while the other one just fixes her with a scowl, which is…weird.

Zuko takes a moment to study chief Hakoda. He looks very unlike the tall, looming shadow Zuko has conjured up in his mind whenever his thoughts have strayed. He just looks like a man, any man. His skin his tan, part of his brown hair pulled back into a pony tail that sits high on his head, and the hair at the front is decorated with blue glass beads. He’s short, shorter than the two men accompanying him, and he wears a blue tunic that leaves his arms bare, despite the cold. His smile is friendly, although that could all just be an act.

Zuko realizes he hasn’t moved when Noriko turns back to look at him expectantly. Chief Hakoda follows her gaze, and his smile turns into a look of confusion as he spots Zuko. Is Zuko not what he expected? Zuko feels a spike of annoyance at that. Is it the scar? he can’t help but wonder. He straightens his back, meeting Hakoda’s gaze straight on. He is fire nation royalty, after all, and this water tribesman, this adult man who agreed to marry him, does not get to look down on him.

He steps forward, bowing in front of Hakoda.

”It’s an honor to meet you,” he says as he straightens up. ”I’m prince Zuko, of the fire nation.”

The chief just looks even more confused, his eyes flitting over to Noriko once again. Zuko feels his annoyance turn into anger. It’s apparent that the man is having second thoughts, and Zuko’s not having it. The chief of the southern water tribe has no right to back down from this, he chose this, Zuko did not.

”I’m sorry,” the chief says, addressing Noriko rather than Zuko, which does nothing to quell his anger. ”I don’t understand?”

Noriko is still smiling widely at the chief.

”Prince Zuko is your betrothed.”

You could hear a pin drop in the stunned silence that follows, the three water tribesmen all staring at Zuko which matching looks of shock on their faces. Then, the silence is broken by the younger of the two advisors (Bako?) muttering a quiet:

”Well, fuck.”

- - - - -

For a moment, as the young woman had stepped down from the bridge onto their docks, Hakoda had felt relief. The woman didn’t seem scared or hostile, she was just smiling warmly at him, as if she was genuinely happy to be there. Noriko, she had introduced herself and despite the situation, Hakoda had found himself smiling back at her. Maybe this would not go as terribly as he had feared? Then, of course, it had all gone to shit.

”He’s a child.”

He’s pacing, cannot stop pacing, walking from one corner of the cabin to another, hoping to shake off the nausea threatening to overpower him at any moment.

His mind flashes back to the young fire nation prince, standing in front of him, head held high and something akin to a challenge in his eyes as he met Hakoda’s gaze. Hakoda had been too stunned to speak when the handmaiden had made her announcement, a heavy weight of dread settling in his stomach. He was only brought out of it as the elder man accompanying the young prince (his betrothed, Hakoda thinks while something close to panic squeezes the air out of his lungs) stepped forward, bowing slightly to Hakoda.

”I’m prince Zuko’s uncle,” he told him. ”I understand we have a lot to discuss, but it has been a long journey and my nephew and I would like some time to rest, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Hakoda had looked at the man in front of him. There was no mistaking that he cared deeply for the prince by the way he had touched his shoulder gently, and the concerned look in his eyes.

Before he had a chance to collect his scrambled thoughts, Bato had stepped in front of him.

”Of course,” he had told the man. ”I will show you to your quarters.”

Hakoda had made it to his own cabin before all but panicking, and Bato had found him in a frenzy when he returned after getting the fire nation prince and his small entourage settled in in his cabin. At least Sokka and Katara hadn’t been there to witness it all, both of them still in school, not expected to come home in another hour or so.

”They expect me to marry a child,” Hakoda says. ”He can’t be any older than Sokka, for spirit’s sake!”

There’s another violent roll of his stomach. In all of the scenarios he’s imagined ever since he agreed to this arranged marriage, this particular one never crossed his mind. The fire lord has sent him a child, has sent his own son, and Hakoda is somehow expected to be just fine with that, to go along with it?

”I will call off the wedding,” he says. ”Right now. The prince will have to go back to the fire nation, I cannot…”

Bato steps in front of him, and it’s only then that Hakoda realizes he’s been making his way towards the door, fully intent to march straight up to the fire nation prince and ask him to leave.

”Don’t do anything rash, Hakoda,” Bato tells him.

Hakoda balks.

”You can’t seriously expect me to go through with this, Bato?” he says, his voice taking on a panicked lilt. ”It’s wrong, it’s a disgrace, and I…”

Bato puts his hands on Hakoda’s forearms, firm enough to be both grounding and mildly restraining, but not hard enough to hurt him. He looks Hakoda in the eyes.

”Of course not, Koda,” he tells him. ”I would never expect you to…” Bato lets the rest of the sentence fade, but the look on his face tells Hakoda everything he needs to know. Bato is equally as appalled at all this as he is. ”You’re right, it is a disgrace, but we still have to think about this.”

”What is there even to think about?” Hakoda ask, but he doesn’t attempt to break free from Bato’s grip.

”Like the fact that the threat from the fire nation is still very much real,” Bato says.

Hakoda likes to imagine himself as a plans man. He is good at finding solutions to problems were others are stumped, and he usually thinks before acting. So when Bato gently steers him towards the large table usually reserved for meetings and social gatherings, he follows, slumping down in one of the chairs. Bato sits down next to him.

Hakoda knows there is a right way to handle this situation. That is calling off the wedding now, sending that poor boy home to his own family again and facing whatever retribution the fire nation will throw at them. It’s what he wants to do, what he feels he should do, had the scenario only factored in him and the boy. But there is more at stake here. Firstly, if Hakoda flat out refuses, he knows that will lead to the fire nation realizing those thinly veiled threats that had made him accept this deal in the first place.

The southern water tribe is already only hanging on by a thread. They’re an isolated nation ravaged by a long war, poverty and scarcity running rampant with the population, and they have only just started to rebuild. And the positive outcomes that could come from a union between the fire nation and the southern water tribe still stand: it would solidify the peace and strengthen the relations between the nations. There are already trade routes opening up between the earth kingdom and the water tribes, and having the fire nation on their side through marriage will open up the opportunity for even more trade routes to open up, granting his people the wares and material they so desperately need to rebuild.

So, Hakoda still sees no tangible way from getting out of the marriage. Or at least, a marriage with a fire nation representative. However…

”Maybe it doesn’t have to be with him,” he says.

Bato looks at him, confused.

”I think I missed a few steps there, Koda. Maybe what doesn’t have to be with who?”

Hakoda sits up straighter.

”The fire nation wants to extend their control over the other nations by having high ranking members of those nations married off to fire nation higher ups,” he says. ”But it could just be any fire nation noble, right? It doesn’t have to be,” the prince, the boy, Zuko. ”him.”

Bato looks at him, but he looks doubtful.

”The firelord sent you his son,” he says. ”How do you think he will react to you declining?”

Bato has a point. But at the same time…

”Who does that, though?” Hakoda asks, running a hand over his face. ”Who sends their teenage son halfway across the globe to be married to a man twice his age?”

Hakoda considers his own children, considers how he would feel if they were to be sent off, on their own, to marry a person not of their own choosing, someone they hadn’t even met. He knows there are men out there who are not good, who abuses their power, who forces themselves on people weaker than them just because they can. The fire lord does not know what kind of man Hakoda is, and yet he has sent his own son off to him. He shudders.

”What do you think happened to his face?” Hakoda asks.

Bato doesn’t have to ask this time to know what he’s talking about.

”I don’t know,” he says. ”An accident, maybe? It looks healed over, but it also looks like it was severe.”

An accident. Hakoda hopes that Bato is correct.

”He’s not even of marrying age,” Hakoda says, slumping back into his chair again. ”Why would they not just wait?”

Bato leans forward and braces his elbows on his knees. He looks sad.

”Not everyone has the same customs as we do,” he says. ”And even we used to allow children to be married off, not too long ago. We have to assume that it’s legal in the fire nation. And you’re definitely of marrying age, so there’s no reason to wait as far as they’re concerned.”

He reaches forward and puts a hand on Hakoda’s knee. Hakoda groans.

”I will tell the fire lord that there has been a mistake, that I cannot marry the prince, that they’ll have to send someone else,” Hakoda says. ”If he finds that insulting, then so be it. I will not marry a child.”

Bato squeezes his knee lightly.

”Then that’s what we’ll tell him,” he says, standing up and offering Hakoda his hand. Hakoda lets himself get dragged to his feet.

”I feel like I aged fifteen years in just one day,” he mutters.

Bato laughs.

”Yeah, well, you look it too.”

He pulls Hakoda into a hug, and Hakoda more or less just sags against him, burying his face in Bato’s neck.

”I’m tired,” he says, voice muffled by the fur lining Bato’s tunic.

”Then maybe you should rest,” Bato suggests. ”We can talk to the prince and his entourage tomorrow.”

Hakoda wants to protest, but he feels almost dead on his feet, and so he lets Bato steer him towards the bedroom. He’s asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

- - - - -

”I didn’t know the chief would be so…old,” Noriko says as she’s making herself busy, unpacking Zuko’s bag and putting the items away in drawers and on shelves. ”I mean, he is easy on the eyes, I’ll give him that. But, still.”

She turns to face Zuko.

”Are you sure your father knew about this?”

Zuko just stares at her, incredulous. He had been under the impression that the person father had chosen to accompany him would be privy to all parts of his plan, but apparently Noriko is as clueless as she comes off.

”Yes,” Zuko says, slowly. ”I’m sure he knew.”

Noriko looks for him a moment longer, then she just shrugs and smiles again.

”Oh well,” she says. ”I’m sure he’s a lovely man. Your father knows what he’s doing.”

Zuko looks away from her and flops onto his back on the bed he’d been sitting on. His father most definitely knows what he’s doing.

The hut they are setting up residence in is small. It’s made out of logs and roughly crafted wooden planks, the walls and floors covered in animal hides that could be either for decoration or to provide some insulation, or maybe both. It’s just one big room, divided into a kitchen area with a working bench, a low table and four stools around it, a sleeping area with three bed rolls separated by fabric shaped into tent like structures around each bed, a washing area and a hearth at the center of it all. It’s warm, at least, a fire crackling in the fire pit. Apparently the chief’s advisor lives here. Zuko supposes the South Pole is remote enough that they don’t get enough visitors to warrant a guest lodge.

Noriko hums off-key to herself while packing Zuko’s things away. Zuko wonders what will happen now. The chief had seemed less than pleased to meet him. Zuko supposes it was naive of him to expect otherwise. He knows how the rest of the world views the fire nation, despite his father’s talk about glory and the superiority of the fire nation culture, and how the other nations should be grateful to be able to take part in it. Zuko knows he won’t be welcomed with open arms here.

But still, the chief had agreed to this. He must have understood what it entails. Zuko rolls onto his side, watching Noriko walk over to the kitchen area, where uncle is busy making tea. He’s glad he’s not expected to share the chief’s bed just yet, at least, and he tries to ignore the fact that he will have to, eventually.

The southern water tribe is different, not that Zuko had imagined anything else. He hadn’t, however, envisioned it to be so small, or so simple. He can’t imagine the village has more than a hundred inhabitants, and there seems to be no distinction between nobility and commoners, as far as housing goes. Zuko is not even sure the water tribe has nobility. Their clothing is different as well, and not just because of the different climate. The people here seems to favor blue and white, as opposed to the red and gold of the fire nation. They wear their hair different as well. He has seen drawings of both the southern and northern water tribe while he was studying the other nations, of course, but those drawings were somewhat outdated, and seeing it in real life is very different.

”Zuko,” his uncle calls to him. ”The tea is ready.”

Zuko sighs and gets up from the bed. He is met with the familiar aroma of his uncle’s favorite tea, and it grounds him, somewhat. At least not everything is different. His uncle has set the table with three cups, a tea kettle that he’s brought from the fire nation, and a plate of what appears to be jerky and crackers next to it.

”There is some food in the pantry, but I suppose we will have to find their market tomorrow to buy more,” Iroh says.

Zuko scoffs.

”We’re their guests. Shouldn’t they provide the food?”

He sits down at the table and his uncle pours him some tea.

”This will be our home, from now on, nephew,” he says. ”We will have to start acquainting ourselves with the village.”

Zuko can’t imagine ever feeling at home here.

He drinks the tea and nibbles at a cracker. It’s dry, but then again, so are all crackers. Noriko is chatting away like she always does, something about snow that Zuko is sure would be terribly inane, could he be bothered to listen to it.

It’s the first time Zuko has seen snow. He can’t say he likes it. It mostly just seem cold and wet. He’d imagined it to at least be white and pristine, but it’s just sludgy and dirty, soaking through his boots and making his socks wet. Their little tea party is interrupted by the door to the cabin being flung open, a teenage boy stepping inside.

”Bato, have you seen…”

The boy freezes in place when he spots the three fire nation inhabitants sitting at the table, his eyes growing as wide as saucers.

”You,” he says, and it sounds accusatory.

Uncle stands up and offers the boy a small bow, and Zuko is feeling an irate annoyance. His uncle is of the royal family, why should he bow to this nobody from a tribe half of the fire nation has forgotten even exists?

”Hello,” Iroh says, friendly as always. ”My name is Iroh, and this is my nephew, Zuko, and his handmaiden, Noriko.”

Noriko smiles and waves because of course she does. Zuko says nothing. The water tribe boy narrows his eyes at them.

”What have you done to Bato?” he asks. Zuko nearly scoffs, again.

”The chief’s advisor was kind enough to offer up his home to be our lodging until the wedding,” Iroh replies, paying no mind to the hostility in the boy’s voice.

The boy looks between them, and suddenly he looks confused.

”Wait,” he says.”My dad is marrying a handmaiden?”

Zuko snorts a laugh at that because seriously, is this boy the village idiot? Next to him Noriko makes a sound like a deflating balloon as she dissolves into laughter. The boy’s cheeks turns red, but he also looks severely offended.

”What?” he says.

Iroh smiles at him.

”No, the chief is not marrying Noriko.”

The boy turns his gaze to Iroh with a horrified look on his face, and Iroh quickly puts up his hands in a clear gesture of ”no”.

”No, no, not me,” Iroh says. ”Chief Hakoda is marrying prince Zuko.”

The boy’s face shifts into a different kind of horrified as he looks over to Zuko, and Zuko starts to wonder what it is about him that seems to make every single person he’s met since he’s come here lose their spirits forsaken minds. They all must have known he was coming, so why do they all seem so shocked by his presence?

”No,” the boy says.

Zuko raises his eyebrow. He’s growing tired of being gawked at like he’s some kind of zoo animal.

”No what?”

”My dad is not marrying you,” the boy says, resolutely.

Agni, Zuko has not been here more than two hours and he already feel well and truly done with this place.

”Why not?” he asks. ”Am I not good enough for your father?”

Zuko had been going for condescending but he realizes too late that it could also be interpreted as the opposite of that and he silently curses himself.

”You’re definitely not good enough for my dad,” the water tribe boy says and, okay, now Zuko is getting annoyed for real. ”But you’re also, you know, a kid?”

The water tribe boy gestures wildly in his direction as if this is something that offends him, when, really, it’s Zuko who should be offended.

”I’m not a kid,” he says, jaws clenched and fists curled up into tight balls at his side. ”I’m the fire nation prince, and your father should be honored that he is to be wed to a fire nation royal.”

The kid opens his mouth to say something, then, suddenly his eyes flicker down to Zuko’s hands. Zuko follows his gaze, and - oh, look at that - his fists are ablaze. When did that happen?

(He almost hears his uncle’s voice at the back of his mind telling him to control himself, and he really should be able to.)

He hears a squawk and looks up to see the water tribe boy hurl something at his face. Zuko puts his hands up, and, without really thinking, sends a burst of flames in the direction of the flying object. It clatters to the floor, still burning, and the boy looks at him in outrage for a second before trying to put out the flames by wildly stomping on them. Uncle helps him out by snuffing out Zuko’s fire with a discreet motion with his fingers.

”My boomerang!” the boy wails, as Iroh turns towards Zuko with thunder in his eyes.

”Prince Zuko,” he says, tone sharp. ”This is no way to treat the chieftain’s son!”

Zuko just gapes at his uncle, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy on the floor, cradling the smoldering remnants of his weapon.

”He started it!”

If looks could kill, Zuko would surely fall down dead the moment the water tribe boy turns his eyes on him, but luckily, they can’t, and Zuko just levels a glare at him.

”This is what happens when you let the fire nation into your home,” the boy mutters.

”I’m very sorry for my nephew’s behavior,” Iroh apologizes, and Zuko bristles at the notion of his uncle apologizing to this water tribe peasant on his behalf.

”I’m not,” Zuko retorts, but the look Iroh sends him shuts him up.

Iroh is not just angry, he’s disappointed.

”That’s enough, prince Zuko,” Iroh warns, before turning to the boy again and offering him his hand to help him up from the floor. The boy looks at it but doesn’t take it. Zuko is offended on behalf of his uncle, but Iroh’s features doesn’t change as the boy stands up on his own. ”We will of course pay to replace your boomerang.”

The boy suddenly looks sad.

”It can’t be replaced,” he says. ”My father made this for me for my coming of age ceremony.”

Oh. Zuko feels a pang of guilt at that, but then quickly dismisses it. If the boy didn’t want Zuko to burn his precious heirlooms, then maybe he shouldn’t try to throw it at him.

”I’m sorry,” Iroh says again.

The boy doesn’t say anything else, he just sends one last glare in Zuko’s direction before turning to leave. He slams the door behind him, and the vibrations from it send a small, framed picture hanging on the wall next to it clattering to the floor. The frame breaks, and Iroh looks at it for a second before heaving a sigh.

”Zuko…” Iroh starts, but Zuko doesn’t want to hear it.

He’s done.

”Why are we even here, Uncle?” he asks through gritted teeth. ”We both know father didn’t send me here to keep the peace, or spread our cultural influence, or even to keep the southern water tribe under his control. This is just his latest way of punishing me for not being the son he wants me to be, so why even keep up this stupid charade?”

Uncle looks sad but that just makes Zuko more angry. He has no right to be sad. He’s not the one shipped across the globe to marry a man old enough to be his father, taken away from everything he finds familiar, dumped in a nation where everyone regards him with suspicion or outright hostility. Iroh chose to be here, Zuko did not.

In a way he’s glad that that water tribe boy tried to hurt him. Upfront aggression is better than sideways glances and whispers behind his back. The chief couldn’t even seem to look at Zuko as they were escorted to the cabin.

”Now, prince Zuko,” Noriko suddenly speaks up, having stayed quiet throughout the entire ordeal so far. ”That is not fair to the fire lord. I’m sure he only has the best of intentions…”

”Shut up!”

Zuko slashes a hand through the air, fire following in its wake. It’s not close enough to Noriko to actually hurt her, but she still jumps back, her eyes fearful. Zuko feels a sting of guilt, but he squashes it down.

Feeling the collective weight of his uncle’s sad and Noriko’s fearful gazes on him, he runs. He doesn’t slam the door behind him, but he storms off blindly, wanting to get away from the small cabin before anyone can follow him.

It’s late, and the village is empty. Lights from warming fires flicker behind the windows of the few log cabins in the encampment, and shines through the animal hides of the more common tents. It’s a far cry from the red tile roofs and cobbled streets of the fire nation.

The village is tiny, and it doesn’t take far for him to reach the high snow wall that surrounds it. He stops for a moment, letting out an angry huff of air that condenses into a white cloud as it leaves his mouth. He suddenly realizes that he’s come out here in nothing but a pair of slippers and his silk robes. Goosebumps form on his arms and legs. He reaches inside him for his inner fire but the sun’s just a sliver on the horizon (is still a sliver, although it’s well into night time), and it’s too cold and he can’t find his fire breath because he’s shivering and just what is this spirits forsaken place?

He kicks the wall in front of him, but the gesture is futile and only has him slipping on a patch of ice, falling onto his back hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He just lays there for a moment, feeling the snow seep through his robe, making him shiver even harder.

”You’ll catch a cold if you don’t get up, silly boy,” he hears a voice say from somewhere behind him.

He sits up quickly, turning to face whoever’s spoken to him.

It’s an old woman, face worn with wrinkles and mostly obscured by a large fur lined hood. She regards him in silence, and Zuko can feel his cheeks heating up.

”Well?” she says.

Zuko quickly scrambles to his feet, nearly slipping on the patch of ice again. When he looks at the woman again there’s a small smile grazing her lips.

”Atta boy,” she says, and Zuko feels the anger flare up again at being patronized, but he’d doesn’t know what to do with it since he can’t really start yelling at an old lady he’s just met, so he lets it fizzle out. ”I’ll tell you what,” the woman continues. ”I’ll get you something warmer to wear if you help med carry these back to my tent.”

She gestures to two baskets at her feet, filled to the brim with fire wood. Zuko looks at them, confused, then back at the old lady, who’s just watching him again, still smiling slightly.

”I…” he starts, but then realizes he has no idea what to say, so he just nods. ”Okay.”

He walks over to her and picks the baskets up. They’re surprisingly heavy, and Zuko wonders how the seemingly frail old lady even managed to get them this far. The woman doesn’t say anything, just turns and starts walking. Zuko follows.

”So, what’s your name?” the woman asks.

”Zuko.”

”I’m Kanna,” she says, looking back at him over her shoulder. ”But most kids in the village just call me gran-gran. Nice to meet you.”

She turns her head forward again and keeps walking. Zuko doesn’t think he’s ever been this confused in his life. They walk in silence the rest of the way. Zuko’s body is shivering almost non-stop as they reach her tent. She pulls the flap back and gestures for him to step inside.

It’s roomier than Zuko would have expected inside, but it’s still small. There’s barely room for him and the woman (Kanna, he reminds himself) to both stand. There’s a fur-lined sleeping bag rolled out across a thick layer of furs to one side, a large chest by its foot end. On the other side is a small iron stove, a metal tube poking through a hole in the tarp to lead the smoke away. Next to the stove is a small stool with a paraffin lamp on it. A tiny wooden table stands in the middle of the tent.

”Be a dear and put the firewood next to the stove, will you?” Kanna says. ”And light a fire while you’re at it.”

Zuko, still as confused as ever, can think of nothing else to do but to do as she says, He sets down the baskets next to the stove, and opens the hatch to put in a few logs. He hesitates. Normally, he would just use his bending to light the fire, but that was home, in the Fire Nation. He knows what benders have done to the Southern water tribe, to all the other nations, and he’s pretty sure him fire bending will not be welcomed here. He glances over at Kanna. She’s already looking at him, expectantly.

”I, uh,” he says. ”Do you have anything to, uh, light, the fire with?”

Kanna raises an eyebrow.

”Oh, you’re not a bender?” she asks.

Zuko is pretty sure his confusion is written all over his face by now.

”I…am,” he says. ”But…”

”But what?” Kanna says, and Zuko can’t very well go ahead and explain that he thought she might associate fire bending with the destruction of her nation, so he just shrugs. ”Well, then, go ahead.”

Zuko still hesitates, but he turns back to she stove, holding his hand out towards the fire wood he put in it, lighting a small flame in his palm, only keeping it there long enough for the fire to take hold before snuffing it out, retracting his hand and shutting the hatch. When he turns to face Kanna again, she’s still looking at him. He searches her face for fear or disgust or contempt, but he doesn’t find it. He doesn’t know what to make of that.

”Well then,” Kanna says, turning away from him. She opens the chest and rummages around in it for a second, before pulling out something blue and soft-looking. She turns to him again, holding it out, and Zuko realizes it’s a parka, lined with the same white fur as her own coat.

”I made this for my grandson,” she explains. ”So that he’d have something to grow into. It should fit you.”

Zuko just stares at it. It’s obviously well made, but also very obviously water tribe.

”I…” he starts. ”I can’t accept it. I’m sorry.”

Kanna frowns at him, still holding out the garment at him and shaking it slightly.

”Of course you can,” she says. ”I’m assuming that the fire nation isn’t stupid enough to send off their engagement party in only slippers and sleeping robes,” Zuko can’t help but blush at that, feeling an urge to cover up even though what he’s wearing is not in any way revealing. ”but I’m also sure they don’t have any idea just how cold it can get on the South Pole. Now, take it. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if you froze to death, now, would it?”

It’s a way out that Zuko hasn’t considered, but his father can’t really fault him if he freezes to death before the wedding, can he? Zuko shivers again. It wouldn’t be the most pleasant way to go, and, okay, Zuko doesn’t really want to die so that kind of rules it out as well. Kanna’s sigh pulls him out of his own thoughts.

”I can see you shivering from over here, boy, and my eyesight isn’t what it used to be,” she says. ”Take the parka.”

She walks over and more or less shoves it at him. It’s even softer than it looks, and just holding it brings some warmth back into Zuko’s fingertips. He still feels like he shouldn’t accept it, but he does, anyway, with a small bow.

”Thank you,” he says.

Kanna smiles.

The anger from earlier is all but vanished now, replaced by confusion and maybe a small sliver of gratitude towards this strange woman who doesn’t seem to fear or hate Zuko for being who he is.

”It’s late,” Kanna says. ”You should probably get back, get some sleep.”

Zuko nods, although the prospect of facing his uncle doesn’t feel too alluring at the moment. He wonders what kind of lecture he will receive? Or maybe uncle will just be sad for him, which is much, much worse. Uncle’s sadness just reminds Zuko of the situation he is in and her doesn’t need that reminder, he is very much aware of what is going to happen and what will be expected of him.

He startles when he feels a hand on his arm, the touch light and brief but comforting.

”It can’t be easy, being so far away from home,” she says. ”Are you expected to stay here beyond the wedding ceremony?”

Zuko looks at her in confusion (she should be used to it by now).

”Yes,” her says, hesitantly. ”My father expect me to make a home in the Southern Water tribe, once I’m married to the chief.”

Kanna’s face is suddenly void of all expression.

”Oh,” she says, her voice toneless. ”You’re my son’s betrothed.”

Kanna is…chief Hakoda’s mother. Zuko doesn’t entirely know why that makes him feel worried. He doesn’t think he’s made a bad impression on her, and even if he did, what difference would it make? But he still feels embarrassed, like he’s shown her parts of himself he shouldn’t have, even though he’s barely spoken a word to her.

”How old are you, Zuko?” Kanna suddenly asks, and her voice is very gentle, for reasons Zuko don’t understand. He doesn’t understand the question, either, not entirely.

”Fifteen,” he replies, still, because he doesn’t want to be rude (not to his future mother-in-law).

Kanna’s face still betrays no emotion, but something flickers in her eyes that Zuko can’t place.

”I’ll walk you back to where you’re staying, Zuko,” she says. ”You’re in Bato’s cabin, are you not?”

Zuko just nods. There is something strange going on, something he doesn’t understand. Everyone here is acting as though they didn’t expect Zuko to be the one marrying the chief. Has Hakoda not told them? Is he ashamed? And of what? The fact that Zuko is a man (a boy)? The fact that he’s fire nation? That he’s the fire lord’s son? Then why did he agree to this?

Kanna holds the tent flap open for him, and he exits her tent. He follows her as she leads him to the cabin in silence.

”It was nice to met you, Zuko,” she says they reach the small wooden structure, the lights in the windows indicating that his uncle is still awake, probably waiting for Zuko to arrive. Or maybe he’ll be lucky, and it’s just Noriko, staying up late to work on the embroidery he’s seen her work on in quiet moments during their trip here.

Zuko turns towards her. He’s still clutching the parka in his hands. He tries to say something, anything, but his words fail him. He’s shivering, small shudders running through his entire body. He should put the parka on, but he can’t bring himself to.

”Goodnight,” Kanna finally says into his silence, and she turns to leave.

”Goodnight,” Zuko whispers when he can no longer see her in the dark.

Chapter Text

Hakoda awakes to voices. They’re nearby, two voices, talking to each other. No, not talking. One voice is raised in emotion, the other a bit hushed. Hakoda sits up. He recognizes Sokka’s voice as the raised one, and the other… Hakoda suddenly realizes that he’s alone in his bed, where he previously hadn’t been. Bato.

”Let me in, Bato, I need to talk to him!” Sokka says, almost yells.

”You will get to talk to him as soon as he’s awake, Sokka,” Bato replies, voice calm and even.

”No, I need to talk to him now,” Sokka says, and he sounds upset, agitated, which isn’t unusual for Sokka, he is often both upset and agitated. But there is something in his tone now that sets Hakoda on edge. This is not Sokka being outraged by the fact that he is not allowed to come with when the older men of the tribe are going hunting, this is something else, something serious.

Hakoda gets out of bed and makes his way towards the voices. He opens the door to his bedroom and is faced with both his son and his partner, right outside thee door, Bato holding an arm out in front of Sokka, as if to stop him from barging right into Hakoda’s bedroom. They both turn to look at him.

”What is going on?” Hakoda asks.

Sokka’s eyes go as wide as saucers.

”Dad” he exclaims. ”Dad, you can’t actually marry him, you can’t!”

Hakoda frowns as Bato sighs.

”Sokka, we’ve talked about this…” Bato starts, but Sokka interrupts him.

”No!” he yells. ”I don’t care! I don’t care if it will prove the relations between our nations or help keep the peace or whatever! He’s a jerk, and I…”

Sokka’s voice falters for a moment, and Hakoda pushes past Bato’s arm, still outstretched, to put a hand on his son’s shoulder, because Sokka looks like he’s about to cry.

”Have you met him, then?” Hakoda asks.

Sokka looks at him, and Hakoda can see him struggling to not show any emotion.

”I have,” Sokka says. ”And he’s an asshole!”

Hakoda can hear Bato mutter ”language” behind him, which is always rich, coming from Bato, but Hakoda doesn’t care about any of that at the moment.

”Why do you say that?” Hakoda asks.

Sokka’s gaze drops to the floor.

”He burnt my boomerang,” he says.

Hakoda feels a protective surge of anger rise within him, and his grip on Sokka’s should tightens slightly as he looks his son over for injuries. He doesn’t look hurt, just sullen, but Hakoda needs to be sure.

”Did he attack you?” he asks, and something in his voice - maybe the barely concealed anger - makes Sokka meet his gaze again.

”No,” he says. ”I mean, yes. I mean, I kind of threw Boomerang at his head?”

See, now Hakoda is more confused than anything else.

”Why would you do that?” he asks.

Sokka shrugs his hand off and crosses his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture Hakoda has seen many times before.

”Because he’s a fire bending jerk,” he says. ”A jerk bender! His hands were on fire and I just threw the boomerang at him. It was self defense!”

Hakoda can feel a head ache coming on. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to handle the fact that the person he will more or less be forced to marry is the teenaged son of the fire lord, or the fact that his own teenaged son has already managed to get into a fight with him that involved both weapons and fire bending. He takes a deep breath and fights the urge to rub his temples in frustration.

”How did you even manage to get in a situation where the prince was fire bending and you threw a boomerang at him?”

Sokka tilts his chin up in defiance.

”He started it!” he exclaims, and Hakoda flashbacks to a five year old Sokka fighting with his sister, pointing an accusatory finger at her as Hakoda confronted him about why Katara was crying.

”Started what?” Hakoda asks and his voice is taking on a frustrated tone because why can’t anything about this day make sense.

”It doesn’t matter! What matters is that he’s a jerk and you can’t marry him!”

Then suddenly Sokka’s face, his whole demeanor, goes from defiant to something else, something much more fragile and vulnerable, and he looks at Hakoda, eyes wide and almost scared.

”Dad,” he says, and his voice is suddenly quiet, barely above a whisper. ”Dad, he’s my age.”

Something within Hakoda breaks. All he ever wanted was to protect his children. From the war, from everything ugly and horrible there was out in the world. He had failed to do so when Kya had been killed, but that hadn’t meant he had stopped trying. And now, he’s failed again, as an example of just how ugly and vile the world can be is currently right among them, sleeping in Bato’s cabin. The fear in Sokka’s eyes, the horror in his whispered words, contains questions that Hakoda can’t even begin to know how to answer.

”I know,” Hakoda says. ”I know, Sokka, and I would never…”

He is interrupted by the door of his cabin getting slammed shut behind someone having just entered, steps approaching and his mother’s voice reaching him.

”Hakoda!” she calls. ”Hakoda, you idiot boy, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

And then his mother is there, looking at him with fire burning in her eyes, more angry than he’s ever seen her. Still, he does not have time for Kanna’s rage right now, because Sokka is still in front of him, still needs to be reassured and whatever Kanna is upset about it will just have to wait.

”Mother,” he says. ”I’m sure I’ve deserved your scorn, but right now I…”

”He’s fifteen, Hakoda,” Kanna says, and her voice is fire and ice at the same time.

Hakoda pauses. It seems like his mother and his son is here on the same errand, then. He opens his mouth to reply, but then what she’s said catches up with him.

Fifteen.

Hakoda has of course realized that the fire prince is young, has estimated already that he must be about Sokka’s age, but something about knowing his actual age makes it even more heartbreaking. Fifteen. Hakoda had been seventeen when he met Kya, but even then the thought of marriage had been far from his mind. They had been together for four years before they got married, Hakoda then 22 and Kya 23. He had grown up during a time of war, and it had always been a worry at the back of his mind, something he couldn’t ignore, but he had also gotten the chance to just be a kid, his parents and the rest of the village had done what they could to make life as normal as possible, and besides the war his worries had been the usual stuff you worry about at that age; crushes and his coming of age ceremony and making his parents proud.

Hakoda is 38 now. More than twice the age of the fire nation prince. The prince has to worry not about crushes or his parents, but about getting married against his will, about moving away from his home and everything he finds familiar, about fulfilling a duty and acting as a pawn in a game of politics.

”Who’s fifteen?”

Hakoda’s introspection is interrupted by Katara, emerging from her room in her pajamas, rubbing at her eyes. He sees something soften in Kanna’s eyes as she turns towards her grand daughter.

”Nothing, Katara,” she says, to Hakoda’s relief. ”Go back to sleep.”

There’s something wild and almost panicked about Sokka as he turns to his sister and flails his arms.

”It’s not nothing!” he exclaims. ”Dad’s marrying the fire nation prince!”

All sleepiness seems to melt from Katara as she looks at her father, eyes wide.

”You’re marrying the fire nation prince?” she repeats, incredulous. ”And he’s fifteen?”

Hakoda sighs.

”Yes, the fire nation prince has been sent to marry me, and apparently he’s fifteen, which, how do you know that, mother?”

Kanna looks at him with an eyebrow raised, and it’s a look Hakoda only receives when Kanna tries to convey what and idiot he’s being, and Hakoda doesn’t feel like that is entirely deserved right now. She opens her mouth to answer, but Katara interrupts her.

”You can’t, dad!” she says. ”It’s not right!”

Hakoda sighs again.

”Agreed,” he says. ”And I’m not marrying him.”

The tension seems to seep out of the room at his words.

”I’m calling a meeting with the prince and his company tomorrow to tell them that I can’t go through with the marriage,” he says. ”I will ask them to send another representative from the fire nation, someone of a more appropriate age.”

Someone actually of age, he thinks but doesn’t say because he doesn’t have to, everyone in the room knows this. He feels a hand on his shoulder and doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Bato.

”We will still have to honor the agreement we signed with the Fire Nation,” Bato says, probably foreseeing the protests that are bound to erupt from Sokka, and probably Kanna and Katara as well, although probably in vastly different fashions (his children generally do not make him feel like a small boy when they’re yelling at him).

As it is, Sokka settles for a disappointed look, somewhere between a glare and a kicked puppy. Katara just shuffles over and hugs him, which is unexpected but very much welcome. Hakoda draws her in close, resting his chin lightly on top of her head.

”Go to sleep,” he tells her. ”It’s late.” He looks over at her brother. ”You too, Sokka.”

Sokka looks like he’s about to protest, but as he open his mouth to speak a yawn fights its way out instead and Sokka admits defeat with a shrug, and both of his kids drop off to their room with a ”goodnight dad, goodnight Bato, Goodnight gran-gran” sent in the direction of the adults. He can hear them start whispering with each other before the door to their bedroom closes, and he realizes they will probably not go to sleep for another few hours.

Hakoda sighs deeply, dragging a hand over his face.

”Well, this certainly turned into a bigger mess than I expected,” he says.

Kanna turns his sharp eyes on him.

”I won’t say I told you so,” she says. ”But you know.”

”Yes, mother,” he says, not in thee mood to continue arguing, There has been enough screaming for one night. ”I know.”

Bato nudges his shoulder with the hand still placed there.

”Come on,” he says. ”Let’s make some tea. I doubt you’ll get any sleep right now anyway. Are you staying, Kanna? You can tell us everything about your encounter with the fire prince.”

”Might as well,” Kanna mutters, and they file into the main room. Bato busies himself with making the tea, shooing Hakoda away as he tries to help.

”It’s hot water and pine needles, Koda. I think I can manage on my own.”

Kanna is already seated by the fire, on a low stool. Hakoda sits down cross legged on the cushion beside her.

”So, you’ve met the prince,” he says.

He can’t bring himself to use the fire prince’s name, it somehow makes this absurd situation too real, but Kanna holds no such hangups.

”Yes, I’ve met Zuko,” she says. ”He seems like a nice young man. He could stand to learn to relax a hair, though.” She tears her gaze from the fire and looks at Hakoda. ”He doesn’t deserve this.”

Hakoda looks down at the hands folded in his lap.

”No,” he agrees. ”He doesn’t. No child does.”

Kanna reaches her hand out and rests it gently in Hakoda’s hair.

”You’re a good man,” she says. ”This isn’t your fault.”

Hakoda still somewhat feels like it is.

Bato sets down a mug of steaming pine needle tea in front of him, and hands another to Kanna. The aroma is strong and familiar, and Hakoda burns his tongue on the first sip but that, too, feels familiar and comforting. Bato sits down next to Hakoda, also a calming presence. He has no mug for himself, having never liked the taste of pine needle tea. He claims that a trip to Ba Sing Se in his youth had spoiled him when it came to tea, and that nothing would compare to the heavenly cup of jasmine he had at a tea shop in the lower ring. He stretches his legs out in front of him now, placing his palms behind him and leaning back.

”So, Kanna,” he says. ”Tell us about the fire prince.”

Kanna huffs out a quiet laugh.

”He’s obviously hotheaded,” she says. ”I found him in his slippers and night robes, trying to take out his frustrations on the defense wall, only to end up flat on his back in the snow.”

”Ha!” Bato barks out a laugh. ”He sounds like your son, Hakoda.”

Hakoda can’t help but smile. It does sound like something Sokka would do. It stings too, this small reminder that the fire prince is, indeed, just a kid.

”But he’s polite,” Kanna continues. ”Helped me carry my firewood, no questions asked. I suspect he’s kind, but I also suspect that kindness is not a trait that is valued in the fire nation royal court.”

Hakoda takes another sip of his tea. He wonders what the fire prince, what Zuko, thinks of all this. He had not seemed surprised to find Hakoda was a grown man. Hakoda supposes he must have known. Hey wonders what Zuko felt, on the boat, knowing what was waiting on the other end of his journey. Wonders what he’s feeling now. It doesn’t matter. Whatever the fire prince thinks of it, Hakoda will end it tomorrow. The boat that carried the prince here will not have gotten far, if they send a message tomorrow the boat will be back at south pole shores within two days, at most.

He hears Bato yawn beside him, and turns towards his partner with a soft smile. Bato yawns again, eyelids drooping. Hakoda must have been out for at least two or three hours already, but he supposes Bato had not slept.

”You should go to bed,” he tells him.

”Yeah,” Bato agrees. ”I should. I have to go out with the fishing boats tomorrow morning. But I want to be there when you talk to the prince.”

Hakoda nods. He wants Bato to be there as well.

Bato makes to stand up, but Hakoda grabs his sleeve, tugging him down for a quick kiss.

”Koda,” Bato mock-whines in perfect imitation of Hakoda’s teenaged son. ”Not in front of your mother.”

Hakoda laughs as Bato presses a chaste kiss to his forehead before getting up. He offers Kanna a small bow.

”Goodnight, Kanna,” he says.

Kanna nods her head.

”Good night, Bato.”

She looks at him as he retreats back into Hakoda’s bedroom, then turns to her son with a fond smile on her lips.

”I’m happy you two managed to pull your heads out of your own backsides for long enough to realize you love each other,” she says.

Hakoda smiles back at her.

”Yeah,” he says. ”I am too.”

- - - - -

Zuko can’t help stealing glances at the man who, in a month’s time, is supposed to be his husband. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, really. Hakoda still just looks like any other man.

He’s sitting across from him now, flanked by his two advisors on either side of him, Noriko and uncle behind Zuko in much the same way. It doesn’t feel like sitting down to have a chat with your betrothed. It feels like a war council.

Hakoda takes a deep breath.

”I hope the food found you well this morning, prince Zuko, and I must apologize for not sending you any food yesterday. Things were a bit… hectic, after your arrival, and it was a grave oversight on our part.”

Zuko frowns. Food? This is what the chief wants to discuss on their first ever real meeting, their first ever actual conversation? He realizes he’s stayed quiet for a beat too long when his uncle answers in his place.

”It found us very well,” he replies. ”We are looking forward to try out more of your local delicacies.”

Zuko fights an urge to roll his eyes. It probably wouldn’t go over well with any of the room’s inhabitants.

”Yes, thank you,” he says instead.

”And, uh, I hope you were able to sleep well,” the chief continues.

Zuko wonders if the people of the water tribe are ever going to stop confusing him. Or maybe it’s just the chief and his family. He looks at the chief again, and there’s this sheepish half-smile on his face the seems almost… nervous? But what does he have to be nervous about?

”I hope you weren’t too cold,” chief Hakoda continues. ”I’ve never been to the fire nation, I mean, no one from outside the fire nation really has because of, you know, the war, but from what I’ve heard the climate is quite a bit warmer than it is here, so I could imagine you must have a hard time acclimatizing.”

Zuko just stares at the chief. Is the older man rambling? What in Agni’s name is going on? One of the men behind the chief, he one that has lent them his cabin (Bato?) buries his face in his hand.

”Koda,” he all but groans, exasperated and far too familial for someone who’s just an advisor.

If someone spoke to his father that way, Zuko know that man would have been challenged to an Agni Kai before he had time to blink, if not killed on the spot. He supposes this Bato has to be a close friend of the chief, maybe even a relative, but even so, it seems disrespectful.

It also seems to do the job, as the chief clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter.

”Right,” he says. ”We might as well cut to the point.”

The sudden shift in the chief’s demeanor catches Zuko’s attention again. He had thought this meeting was called as a first step for him and the chief (his fiancé, he reminds himself for what must be the hundredth time) to get start to get to know each other, but the chief seems to have something more formal that needs addressing.

”Prince Zuko,” chief Hakoda says. ”It is a great honor to have you and your entourage come to the South Pole, and we hope your stay here will be an enjoyable one. However, we will not go through with the marriage.”

For a moment, Zuko is free falling through a barrage of confusing emotions. Relief, at the fact that he will not have to be this man’s husband. Anger, to have been sent halfway around the world under false pretenses, to have gone through all of that anxiety in anticipation of what was to come for nothing. Fear, of what will happen next.

”Why?” Zuko demands to know, and it surprises him that that is what comes out, when there are a whole array of other reactions he could have settled on in response.

Something in Hakoda’s eyes soften into what almost seems like sadness.

”We do not mean you any disrespect, prince Zuko, but we were not told of your age beforehand, not anything about you really. The legal age for marriage in the water tribe is 18. For me to marry you would be illegal.”

Oh. Suddenly it all slots into place. The chief’s reaction upon meeting him, everyone’s confusion when learning that he was the one the chief was to marry. Zuko is relieved, in a way, to learn that chief Hakoda did not, actually, agree to marry a fifteen-year-old.

”But prince Zuko is from the fire nation,” Zuko hears Noriko pipe up from behind him. ”And the legal age for marriage in the fire nation is 14. I do not understand the problem here.”

The softness disappears from the chief’s eyes as he looks over Zuko’s shoulder to Noriko.

”I understand that customs are different in other nations,” chief Hakoda says, and there is an undercurrent of something sharp beneath his words. ”But it would be immoral for me to marry someone who is not of age.”

Zuko follows the chief’s gaze to Noriko. She holds a look of disapproval that seems to not quite fit her usually cheery demeanor.

”But the fire lord has sent you his son for you to marry,” she says. ”Surely you understand that a refusal would be a disrespect to the fire lord?”

Zuko wants to tell Noriko to shut up, to tell her that he does not want it and does not want her defending him. He wants to tell her that his father sent him here to further humiliate him, that this is just the fire lord having a laugh at the expense of his disgraceful son. But he also knows that she is right. His father will see the chief’s refusal as a disrespect, regardless of what he thinks of Zuko.

”We understand.”

The reply comes not from the chief but from the advisor, Bato.

”We do not intend to break the contract we have signed with the fire lord,” he continues, casting a quick glance at the chief. ”But the contract, to our understanding, only stated that the chief would be married to a fire nation noble. We simply ask that someone of a more suitable age will be sent to marry the chief.”

The chief and his advisor share a look that Zuko can not decipher, and he doesn’t really care to dwell on it either, far too busy trying to calculate what this will mean for himself. He will have to return to the fire nation, to his father, not having fulfilled his duty. Sure, it was not by his own choice, but he doubts his father will care about that. His mind flashes back to the fire duel, to his father’s hand on his face, to the excruciating pain. He can hear the other people in the room talk, but he’s no longer listening. His ears are ringing and he feels like he can’t breathe.

He stands up, abruptly, and the others quiet down, looking at him.

”Excuse me,” he says, focusing all his energy on keeping his voice steady. ”I need a moment.”

He leaves the igloo, not looking back as he walks out into the snow and then just keeps walking until he’s on the edge of the village, looking out over a vast expanse of water and ice while he focuses on taking deep and steady breaths.

”Hello?” he hears someone say from behind him.

He turns around to find himself face to face with a girl who looks to be about Azula’s age, but with no other similarities to his sister beyond that. She’s dressed in the blue and white he’s come to already associate with the southern water tribe, her hair pulled back into a braid except for two strands hanging in loops on either side of her face, the same kind of blue glass beads he’s seen in the chief’s hair adorning hers. Her eyes are blue and wide as she looks at him and, oh, right, maybe he should say something.

”Uh, hi.”

She keeps her distance, but Zuko can tell she’s also curious.

”You’re the fire prince, right?” she asks. He nods. ”Has my dad told you he’s not marrying you yet?”

Seriously, was this whole village just made up of the chief’s family? Maybe the talk about water tribe inbreeding was true after all.

”He… yeah,” Zuko replies.

The girl frowns.

”Will the fire nation attack us now?”

Zuko is taken aback by the question. Not because it isn’t relevant, it very much is, but because he’s surprised that the girl actually asks it outright. Politics is usually a game of underlying meanings and threats veiled as curtesy, but then again, he supposes the girl isn’t a politician as much as she is a child concerned for her own safety.

”I don’t know,” he says, and it’s true. He doesn’t know. He strongly suspects his father will not take well to the news of his offer being rejected, but then again, there has been peace for over a year, and Zuko doesn’t think his father will be willing to risk that for the sake of one insignificant tribe’s insubordination. (He also suspects that this peace is not what it seems to be, but Zuko has never held his father’s trust enough to be privy to whatever goes on in the war room, and the one time he was granted access did not do him any favors in gaining that trust).

”Did you want to marry dad?”

Agni, this girl does not beat around the bush.

”I, uh, it’s my duty and a great honor to be chosen to carry out this mission for my nation,” he starts to recite, and the girl shoots him an unimpressed glare.

”But did you want to marry him?” she presses.

Zuko kind of deflates. No one has asked him what he wants in quite some time.

”No,” he says, voice quiet.

”Then you will tell your father not to attack us, won’t you?” she says.

As if he’ll listen, Zuko thinks. Out loud, he says:

”Okay.”

She shoots him a quick smile.

”Good,” she says. ”I’m Katara, by the way. Did you really set my brother’s boomerang on fire?”

Zuko frowns in confusion, before he remembers the guy from yesterday.

”I, uh,” he starts, not sure of what to say. ”He started it?”

The girl snorts.

”That sounds like Sokka,” she says. ”And don’t worry, dad already promised to make him a new one.”

Zuko can count the interactions he’s had with the people of the southern water tribe on one hand, and so far, none of them have gone as expected (except maybe for the one with the girl’s brother, he very much expected getting attacked at some point). It’s starting to give him a headache. He wants to ask the girl, Katara, why she isn’t scared of him, why she’s standing here talking to him like he’s just any other person, like they could be friends. Zuko doesn’t know what to do with any of it. He doesn’t have friends, just subordinates and family. How does one respond to interaction that isn’t servile or hostile?

”Uh, that’s good, I guess,” he replies, and oh wow, stellar conversational skills Zuko, he thinks sardonically.

”So, you’ll be going back to the fire nation now, then?” she asks.

”I guess so,” Zuko says.

”That’s good,” she says.

Zuko doesn’t reply. The sinking feeling in his gut tells him that going back home will not, in fact, be good. Maybe he can manage to escape along the way? Or maybe his father will actually listen to his pleas, this time? He shudders, memories of his father's looming figure and the quiet murmur of the audience in the agni kai arena rearing their heads again. The water tribe girl just looks at him, eyebrows furrowed as if in deep thought.

”Have anyone shown you the village yet?” she asks, and draws Zuko from his own head.

”Uh, no,” he says.

She smiles at him.

”Do you start every sentence with an ’uh’?”

She says it so casually, as if Zuko is just another boy from her village, like he isn’t a prince from the dreaded fire nation.

”Uh…” he starts, and she laughs, actually laughs, right in his face. It catches Zuko so off guard that he doesn’t find the time to feel offended or annoyed or angry, he just shoots her a quick smile, instead, one that surprises himself as much as it seems to surprise the girl.

”Come on, prince of Uh,” she says. ”I’ll show you around.”

And Zuko can’t think of anything else to do but follow her into the village.

- - - - -

Hakoda bows to the handmaiden and the uncle, and they mirror the gesture, though the handmaiden keeps shooting him dirty looks. She has spent the better part of the half hour that has passed since the young prince abruptly left the meeting trying to cajole and threaten him into going through with the marriage, and Hakoda has tried, with increasing exasperation, to explain why he won’t. The uncle has been more accepting, though he, too, keeps shooting Hakoda these looks that he can’t really decipher. As they finally exit the igloo, Hakoda lets out a long breath and lets some of the tension seep out of his posture. He feels a hand on his shoulder.

”Well, at least that’s done, now,” he says, reaching a hand up to clasp over Bato’s.

”Now we just have to await whatever replacement they decide to send,” Bato says, and Hakoda can hear that there’s still tension in his voice. He turns to look at him.

He knows Bato is as relieved as he is that he won’t have to marry the prince, but that will only offer a short respite. The fire nation will send someone else, and Hakoda will have no other choice but to honor the contract they signed with the fire nation that time. He will still have to give up Bato, in the end. He squeezes Bato’s hand and opens his mouth to say something about it, but Gilak intercepts whatever he was going to say.

”You two do realize that the uncle is the Dragon of the West, right?”

Bato and Hakoda both turn to look at him. Gilak is still looking towards the igloo’s opening, as if he’s expecting the uncle to return in full attack mode.

”What do you mean?” Hakoda asks.

Gilak shifts his gaze to him.

”Exactly that,” he says. ”The uncle is general Iroh, firelord Azulon’s firstborn son, the one who stood first in line to the throne before Azulon’s death and the general who led the siege of Ba Sing Se.”

”Ah, I see my reputation precedes me.”

They all turn toward the entrance to the igloo. The uncle has returned again, a smile grazing his lips, hands tucked into the sleeves of the robe he’s wearing, crossed arms resting on his stomach in a pose that seems almost deliberate in its placation.

Hakoda rises to his feet, pulling his hunting knife out of his belt and dropping into a stance where he’s ready to attack. He can hear Bato and Gilak doing the same behind him. The uncle, the general, doesn’t move.

”Please,” he says. ”I mean you no harm. I only wish to talk to you about my nephew, away from prying eyes and ears.”

Hakoda narrows his eyes. What does the old man mean?

”So it’s true, then,” Bato speaks up from behind Hakoda.” You’re general Iroh?”

The old man sighs heavily.

”I am,” he says. ”But my part in the war ended long before the war did. For the last few years, my title have been only honorary, and my primary role at the palace have been that of advisor, and a warden for my young nephew, although that is an assignment I have put upon myself.”

Hakoda doesn’t know what to believe. He has heard tales of general Iroh, of his cunning and his raw power, and his relentlessness during the siege of Ba Sing Se. None of the tales match the short, sturdy man in front of him, but it would not be wise to let himself be fooled by impression alone.

”Why should we believe you?” Hakoda asks, not shifting his stance nor putting the knife away.

Iroh bows deeply, bending at the waist.

”I wish to speak to you, as one father to another,” Iroh says, before straightening out of his bow. ”I wish you would reconsider marrying my nephew.”

Hakoda does relax his stance at that, more out of surprise than anything else.

”You… want me to marry the prince?” he asks. ”The one you have assigned yourself to protect?”

Iroh nods.

”It’s… complicated,” he says. ”I only wish for you to listen what I have to say. I won’t force your hand, if you still refuse when I am done.”

Hakoda can’t help but huff out a humorless laugh at that.

”The fire nation has already forced my hand into accepting this marriage in the first place,” he says. ”I don’t understand why I should believe that you would be any different.”

Iroh’s mouth settles into a thin line at that. He looks discontent.

”I am well aware of the persuasion techniques my nation has employed to have the other nations accept these offers,” he says. ”I have no wish to have any part in furthering that fear of retribution. I will respect your decision, whatever it will be. But, please, chief Hakoda. I’m afraid we don’t have much time.”

In the end, it’s the plea in Iroh’s voice, as well as Hakoda’s own curiosity (both Kya and Bato have always told him that he’s both too curious and too trusting for his own good) that settles it. He sits down, crosslegged, on the sabretooth-elk-pelt again, gesturing for the general to do the same. He does not, however, put his knife back into his belt, opting instead to place it on the floor between him and Iroh, within easy reach. The older man sits down, as well.

”Koda, you can not seriously consider…” Bato starts behind him. Hakoda puts a hand up to stop him.

”I wish to hear what this man has to say, Bato,” he says.

He’s using his chief-voice. He rarely uses it with Bato, or with Gilak, for that matter, but they both know what it means. It means they will have to succumb. He can almost hear Bato grumbling, although he knows his partner to be wise enough to not actually do it out loud.

Iroh inclines his head in a small bow.

”Thank you, for being willing to listen to me.”

Hakoda keeps his face neutral.

”You said you wanted to talk to me as a father,” he says. ”But the prince is not your son.”

”No,” Iroh admits. ”I lost my son to the war. But I think of prince Zuko as my own.”

Hakoda did not know that the Dragon of the West had a son. A lot of information regarding the fire nation royal family never reached the other nations, and what little did reach them was either because the fire lord wanted the other nations to know, or someone, somewhere, had manage to pick up some gossip from fire nation soldiers. It was difficult to tell truth from lie, though, and Hakoda suspected that much of what was leaked from the fire nation through official channels was little more than propaganda.

”I’m sorry for your loss,” he tells the general, and he means it. He can’t even imagine what it would feel like to lose Katara or Sokka, doesn’t want to imagine it, and most of his decisions are made so that neither he, nor the other villagers, will ever have to experience that kind of loss. Losing Kya was enough, Hakoda knows he would not survive losing his children as well.

”Thank you,” Iroh says. ”I want to talk to you so that I won’t have to lose another son.”

Hakoda doesn’t say anything, but he meets Iroh’s gaze, making it clear that he’s listening.

”Do you know how prince Zuko got his scar?” Iroh asks.

It is not in any way, shape or form what Hakoda thought he would say, but he tries to keep the surprise off his face. Instinct still tells him that the man in front of him is dangerous, and he wants to give away as little as possible. He shakes his head. Iroh sighs.

”No, i suppose that would be a tale better suited as a cautionary tale within the fire nation, rather than propaganda aimed for the other nations,” he says. ”It was his father who gave it to him.”

At that, Hakoda feels his composure slipping. The fire lord had burned his own son?

”I invited Zuko to join in on one of the war councils. It was foolish of me, but the boy was eager, and I didn’t think…” he trails off for a second, a sadness crossing his face like a shadow, before he continues. ”There was a plan to sacrifice a division of young, untrained soldiers to create a diversion, and the prince spoke up against it. His father was displeased, and felt like Zuko had disrespected him. He challenged the prince to an agni kai, a fire duel. Zuko thought he was to fight the general he had spoken up against, but the fire lord felt that by speaking out of term in his war council, prince Zuko had disrespected him.”

Hakoda feels like the blood in his veins has turned to ice. The prince was fifteen now, and the scar looked old. How young had he been, when he’d been made to fight his own father?

”The prince did not want to fight the fire lord, and so he begged for forgiveness. The fire lord told Zuko to fight, and when he refused, he burned him.” Iroh fell silent for a while, and the room with him. Hakoda does not want to chance a glance at Bato or Gilak, but he can almost tell from their silence that they are as shocked as he is. ”Prince Zuko almost didn’t make it. I stayed with him through the recovery, and ever since I have tried to protect him from my brother, to the best of my best abilities.”

Hakoda regards the man in front of him. He looks sincere, and saddened, and the heavy sense of dread that has settled over Hakoda tells him that the general is telling the truth.

Hakoda knows that the fire nation is a society that prides itself on order and the power of its people, that it’s a society with strict hierarchies, and that virtues like respect, honor and strength are held in the highest regard. But he can se no honor in hurting your own son, in letting children fight in duels.

”Why are you telling me this?” he asks general Iroh.

”My brother holds no capacity for mercy,” he tells Hakoda. ”If prince Zuko returns to the fire nation without having completed his mission, there is no doubt in my mind that he will be killed for his perceived insolence.”

Hakoda’s mind is reeling. He can not marry a child, but can he send a child back to certain death?

”Surely, the fire lord would not kill his own son, and the heir to the throne,” he hears Gilak say.

Iroh’s gaze cut to Gilak. It’s sharp, but his voice is still calm as he replies.

”Fire lord Ozai has a daughter,” he says. ”Azula. She is a strong bender, and every bit as cunning as her father. She is to become the next fire lord. Zuko is nothing but a spare, now, since he is to be married to chief Hakoda. If he was to return, it would ruin the firelord’s plan for Azula to take the throne He would not want that.”

Hakoda’s mind flashes to the young prince, sitting across from him with his back straight, in every way projecting pride and regality, but still a child. A child with a scar from a burn covering half of his face, put there by his own father.

”And what of the southern water tribe,” Bato speaks up. ”What would happen to us, if we were to send the prince back to the fire nation?”

Iroh looks at Bato, somewhere to Hakoda’s right.

”I cannot say,” he replies. ”Maybe he would comply, and send another noble here to be married. Or maybe he would see it as a direct refusal, and a disrespect.”

He doesn’t elaborate on what that refusal would be met with, he doesn’t have to. The fire lord has no capacity for mercy, the general had said. If he can’t extend mercy to his son, Hakoda doesn’t see how he could extend it to a tribe in a nation far away that he had no problem sending his soldiers to terrorize while the war was still ongoing.

”I understand that you wish to protect your nephew,” Hakoda says. ”But I fail to see how marrying him off to a man more than twice his age would be considered protection.”

Iroh looks at him again.

”It wouldn’t be,” he said. ”And before today, my plan was to escape with the prince once I had assured that the fire nation ship was too far away for it to follow us. I have arranged for a contact of mine to arrive at port in five days time, traveling on a trade ship. Me and prince Zuko were to escape onboard that ship during the night.”

Hakoda tenses, and he has to fight an urge to reach for his knife. He can practically feel Bato bristle behind him right before he takes a step forward, partly stepping between Hakoda and the general, thrusting his spear forward to come to a halt at the centre of the old man’s chest, close enough the the tip of it catches on the fabric of his robe. The general doesn’t flinch.

”You were going to betray us,” Bato hisses, teeth clenched around barely contained rage. ”If the fire lord would attack us just for asking him to send someone who is not a child to marry Hakoda, then you know what he would do to us if his son and his brother were to vanish while under our care.”

Iroh lowers his gaze to the floor.

”Trust me when I say it would give me no pleasure to see this village destroyed,” he says. ”But I will do what it takes to protect my nephew.” He looks up at Hakoda again. ”I’m sure you can understand.”

Hakoda wants to protest, wants to tell this man that he would never betray this village, his people or put anyone else in danger for his own gain. But he does understand. He would do anything in his power to protect Sokka and Katara, even if it meant others would be put in harm’s way. A parent’s impulse is fundamentally selfish, but it’s an impulse none the less, and a strong one at that.

Next to him, Bato pulls his spear back, only to thrust it forward again, this time stopping just short of the older man’s forehead. Iroh still doesn’t move a muscle. Hakoda reaches a hand up to rest on Bato’s arm, the one holding the spear. He sees the general’s gaze cut to Hakoda’s hand for a quick moment before settling back at his face, and Hakoda knows that the Dragon of the West now knows something Hakoda wishes he didn’t.

”Bato,” he says. ”Stand down.”

Bato’s gaze doesn’t leave the general.

”This man would sacrifice our village for his own safety,” he says. ”You cannot expect me to…”

”I said stand down,” Hakoda repeats, voice stern.

For a moment he thinks Bato will refuse his order - because it is an order - but after a moment he withdraws, spear planted at his side again as he takes a step back. Hakoda spares him a quick glance. Bato’s face is a stony mask of repressed rage, and he doesn’t meet Hakoda’s eyes. Hakoda looks back at the general.

”If that is your plan,” he tells Iroh. ”Why tell us now?”

Iroh offers something that looks almost like an apologetic smile.

”You must excuse me, chief Hakoda,” he says. ”Before this meeting, I did not know what kind of man you were. When I learned of prince Zuko’s fate, I assumed you had accepted knowing who he was.”

Oh. General Iroh had thought Hakoda had accepted this agreement knowing fully well that he was to marry the fifteen year old prince of the fire nation. Maybe he should feel offended, but given how little the nations knew of each other’s traditions and customs, it was equally as probable that general Iroh and the prince had assumed that Hakoda had accepted a child’s hand in marriage as it was that Hakoda had assumed that the fire nation would send someone of marrying age.

”You couldn’t have known,” he says, simply. ”But I fail to see how this changes anything?”

It’s a lie, he can already see the outlines of the plan he suspects general Iroh is going to propose, but he needs to hear the general say it, needs to know all the details before he can give the old man an answer. Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups, as Bato so often eloquently put it. Hakoda needs to be certain before he makes any kind of decision.

”As I understood that you had no wish or intention to marry prince Zuko, I realized that there might be a solution that could be mutually beneficial for us, given the circumstances,” Iroh says.

”And what might that be?” Hakoda asks.

He is unused to this, having to play games in the realm of politics, holding your cards close to your chest, trying to get the other part to make the first move. For governing to work within their tribe and the council of elders, everyone needs to know what’s at stake, and any information that is withheld means risking failure and in-fighting that would, in the end, benefit no one and only lead to distrust. He supposes it’s different in a society where the leader reigns supreme and you have more to lose by being honest than being deceitful.

He can tell by the look in Iroh’s eyes that Iroh knows that he’s guessed the plan already, but the general just nods graciously and tells him.

”In four weeks time a delegation from the fire nation will arrive, consisting of two or three of the fire lord’s advisors, a few handmaidens, a couple of soldiers and a fire sage. They will stay here to oversee that the marriage is officiated in accordance with our laws and traditions. Once they have done that, I believe that all of them will leave, leaving behind only the prince, his handmaiden, and me, should I wish to stay.”

”You believe they will leave?” Hakoda says. ”That means you’re not certain.”

”Not entirely,” he says. ”But I doubt that they see any use in leaving more people behind than necessary, and the fire lord has already sent his spy here.”

That is information that surprises Hakoda.

”And who might this spy be?” he asks.

”Noriko,” the general replies.

”The handmaiden?” Hakoda says.

”Yes. She is to report back to the fire lord on the prince’s progress on his mission, as well as anything else she believes might be of interest to the fire lord.”

That is… disconcerting. Granted, the village is small, too small to be of any threat to the fire nation, but Hakoda feels uneasy at the thought of being studied, of the handmaiden reporting back to the fire nation on their village, the families that reside here, their customs and their everyday life, their small army and their ability, or lack thereof, to defend themselves.

”Usually the person sent in marriage is the spy,” Iroh explains. ”But the fire lord does not trust his son.”

”But the fire lord ended the war,” Hakoda says. ”Why does he need to send spies to the other nations?”

Iroh shows his palms and spreads his fingers in a gesture of ”I don’t know”.

”My brother does not trust me either,” he says. ”And he is paranoid. Perhaps he just wants to make sure that no one can conspire against the fire nation.”

”How do we know that you’re not the spy?”

Bato’s voice is measured, still carrying a steely age of anger.

”You don’t,” Iroh says. ”I can only tell you what I know, and of the plan, and hope that you trust me.”

Hakoda knows that will not satisfy Bato, but he carries on before Bato can speak up again.

”You still haven’t told us the plan.”

”My plan is for you to allow the fire sage to perform the marriage ritual in front of the witnesses from the fire nation, who will then report back to the fire lord that prince Zuko has completed his mission,” Iroh explains.

”And then what?” Gilak asks.

”Then we let the prince stay here, under our protection,” Hakoda answers in Iroh’s stead. ”The fire lord won’t have any reason to attack us, since we have upheld our end of the bargain, and he will have a spy planted among us, so he will leave us be. And you and the prince won’t have to live as fugitives. That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

The tiniest of smiles ghosts across Iroh’s lips, so quick that Hakoda nearly misses it.

”You’re a perceptive man, chief Hakoda,” he says.

Hakoda pays no mind to the compliment, continuing.

”And in this plan, I will still be married to a child.”

”I will not disrespect you by telling you that the marriage would not be real, because I know you hold marriage in high regard here, as do the fire nation. According to the law and tradition of the fire nation, you will be married to prince Zuko, and it is not a decision I am asking you to make lightly.”

Iroh bows his head again. Hakoda can’t tell if the intended display of respect is genuine or made to placate him.

”And in this scenario, we also have a spy living in our midst,” Hakoda carries on. ”It is no small favor you are asking of us. Or of me.”

”It is not,” Iroh agrees. ”But I ask you to believe me when I say I only want to keep my nephew safe.”

Silence settles over the room once again. Hakoda doesn’t know what believe, nor what to do. He does believe that what Iroh tells him is the truth, although he knows it’s unwise to do so. He has no doubt that the young prince will actually be killed if he is to return to the fire nation without having married Hakoda (completed his mission, as the general keep saying, as if the sacred act of marriage is just another war strategy. For all Hakoda knows of the fire lord, it just might be), and the mere thought of a child losing his life because of a decision Hakoda has made sends chills down his spine. But accepting would mean not just letting a fire nation prince taking up permanent residence in their village, but also letting a spy do the same. It would mean Hakoda would either have to keep this a secret from their entire tribe, letting them believe that he agreed to marriage with a child, having to keep up pretenses of that marriage, or entrusting this secret to the entire village, and running the risk of getting exposed further down the line, thus still inflicting the rage of the fire lord and putting the village in danger.

”I mean,” he hears Gilak say. ”We could always just dispose of the handmaiden spy after the fire nation leaves and send the fire lord fake letters of how backwards and savage the water tribe is and that we pose no threat to the fire nation whatsoever. I doubt he could tell the difference.”

Hakoda fights the urge to groan, and is surprised to hear the general let out a small snort of laughter.

”I do not think Noriko will pose a threat to you, in the long run. The girl is loyal to the fire nation and the fire lord, but she is a kind soul. I believe she will find her way, in the end,” Iroh says.

It’s strange, hearing the Dragon of the West talk about putting his faith in someone’s kindness. Iroh is either a very skilled liar, which Hakoda has no trouble believing, or he has genuinely changed his way, which Hakoda also has no trouble believing, from what he’s seen of the man so far.

”I need to confer with my advisors,” Hakoda finally settles on. ”And with the village elder. But I will consider what you have told us.”

Iroh looks relieved, and he once again bows to Hakoda.

”That is all I ask,” he says, making to stand up.

He lets out this little groan as he does, a distinct sound that Hakoda has only ever heard from older men doing something they find laborious, and it startles him a bit to hear it from Iroh, this sound that seems to transcend all borders. He smiles quickly to himself, but Iroh catches it.

”Old age catches up to all of us, sooner or later,” he says, offering a smile of his own. ”Thank you, for listening to an old man’s pleas.”

Hakoda stands up as well, offering Iroh a bow.

”I appreciate you telling us,” he says, and he does. He would not have wanted to send the prince off, not knowing the price.

Iroh turns to leave.

”General,” Hakoda says.

Iroh turns towards him again.

”Just Iroh is fine,” he says.

”Iroh,” Hakoda says, even though it feels weird to address him with just his name. ”If we go through with the plan, I want the prince to know of it as well. I will not have him believe that he will have to enter a real marriage with me.”

Iroh smiles, and bows again.

”I wouldn’t let him believe that, chief Hakoda.”

Then he leaves.

Chapter Text

Zuko wonders if he is just going to live in a state of perpetual confusion from here on. The whole afternoon had been confusing, Katara showing him around the village, taking him to the small market place and having him sample some of the food items there (most of them were okay, except for the sea prunes that were just downright inedible, and Zuko had had to fight the urge to just spit them out, instead swallowing them down while fighting off a grimace). Then she had taken him to the docks, although he had already seen them when he arrived, and introduced him to some of the fishermen. The fishermen had seemed happy to see her, and none of them had bowed even though she was the chief’s daughter. They had been a bit wary of Zuko, but not outright hostile, which had been weird. Then she had shown Zuko the igloo, and finally led him to an opening in the village wall that lead out into the tundra, the dark silhouette of a forest barely visible on the horizon.

Zuko had just followed her around, with growing confusion. He wanted to scream at her, tell her that she shouldn’t be showing all of this to him, that he was the enemy, that she was entirely too trusting and that she would get hurt. But he didn’t. He knows that this village has been touched by the war, his uncle had told him about the Southern Raiders and the kidnapping of water benders during their journey here. He does not know what has happened to Katara’s mother, but since the chief is eligible for marriage he knows she is no longer in the picture, and he fears that his nation might be the reason for it. And yet, despite all that, Katara had spoken to him like he was just any other kid her age, like he was a friend, or, at least, someone with the potential of being a friend. Zuko doesn’t know what to make of it, but if he allowed himself a second to dwell on it, he knows it would feel entirely too good, so he doesn’t.

Katara had dropped him off by Bato’s hut, and told him that she would come back the day after tomorrow so that they could go fishing, if he hadn’t already left for the fire nation by then, and hadn’t even waited for his reply before leaving.

Now he’s sitting by the fire pit, a letter in his hand that his uncle had handed him, after sending Noriko off to get more firewood, even though Zuko could have sworn that there had been a big pile of it sitting in a basket by the door just this morning. He looks at his uncle as he busies himself with making tea. It’s obvious that he is not going to tell Zuko anything about the letter, or even acknowledge it, so Zuko just opens it. It’s written in uncle’s neat, slanted handwriting, which just makes it more confusing. He reads it anyway.

The chief has agreed to proceed with the marriage, but it wouldn’t be a real marriage. You would get to stay here, where you will be protected. Noriko must not know. Burn this letter when you have read it.

Zuko looks up at his uncle again. He opens his mouth to speak, to ask his uncle what all of this means, but his uncle just gives the smallest shake of his head, and Zuko closes his mouth again. He reads the short letter again, then again. He can’t make any sense of it. How wouldn’t it be a real marriage? And how would marrying the chief mean that he would be safe? Safe from what? (Your father, his mind supplies, but what good would it do him to be safe from his father if he still has to be forced into a marriage with a man old enough to be his father?)

He hears footsteps by the door, and the letter in his hands is suddenly on fire. He smothers a small yelp that threatens to escape his lips and drops the letter into the fire pit. Noriko enters the cabin not even two seconds later, her arms full of fire wood that she drops into the basket by the door. She looks at the smoldering remains of the letter in the pit, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

”I, uh, tried to make a fire,” Zuko says in a haste.

He might not understand the letter, but he does understand the part where Noriko must not know about it. He knows she’s not primarily his handmaiden but father’s spy, and whatever plan his uncle has hatched it is one that must be kept away from firelord Ozai.

”You tried to start a fire… without firewood?” she asks.

”Uh, yes?” Zuko says hesitantly.

Noriko’s suspicion turns into mirth, and a laugh spills out of her.

”I swear to Agni,” she says. ”Sometimes I think you benders do not understand how the real world works. Fire needs fuel to be able to burn. Just a piece of paper won’t do.”

For a moment, Zuko bristles at the condescension in her voice, but he also realizes that this means she’s off their scent, so he takes a deep breath and squashes it down. Noriko builds a small tower out of firewood in the fire pit, and uncle lights it with his bending.

”Where were you this afternoon, prince Zuko?” Noriko asks him as she busies herself with making dinner, gutting some fish she had gotten from the market. ”I couldn’t find you after the meeting.”

Zuko sends a quick glance in uncle’s direction, but he has his back turned, still focused on his tea.

”I, uh, spent some time with the chief’s daughter. She showed me the village,” he answers, because he can’t see any reason to not be honest.

”Oh,” Noriko says. ”I think I saw her earlier. She’s pretty.” She turns his head towards Zuko and blinks conspiratorially at him. ”Be careful, though. It would do you no good to fall for her when you are supposed to marry the chief.”

Zuko’s face pulls itself into a grimace. Does Noriko even listen to the things she’s saying half of the time? It’s like the plot to one of those cheesy romance novels some noble women like to read - the noble prince sent off to marry the chief of a savage tribe, only to fall for the chief’s daughter.

”It’s not like that,” he says.

Out of the corner of his good eye he sees his uncle turn to look at him, but only for a brief moment, attention turned back to his tea when Zuko turns to glare at him. He wonders sometimes if his uncle knows. Part of him is sure he does, because nothing seems to pass uncle by, but another part of him wonders how he could. Zuko has never told anyone about it, has always been careful to never let his gaze wander or linger anywhere it shouldn’t, never show anything that would give him away. He wonders what his uncle would think of him if he did know.

Noriko has turned her back on Zuko again, but she clearly hasn’t dropped the subject.

”Although I suppose that if she were to develop feelings for you as well, then maybe you could marry her instead of the chief. Not that there’s anything wrong with the chief, but the daughter would be a better match, age-wise. And, you know, gender-wise, although I’ve come to understand that that kind of thing is not illegal here…”

”Oh for… I do not have feelings for Katara!” Zuko cuts her off mid-musing.

Noriko turns towards him, hands full of fish-guts. Zuko pulls a face.

”Alright, alright, prince Zuko,” she says, placatingly. She turns back to her work once again. ”You really shouldn’t be running off on your own though. Your father told me to keep my eyes on you, at all times. He would be most cross with me if he knew I just let you run around unsupervised.”

Zuko wonders for a moment just what his father had told Noriko. Had he told her that she was to spy on him, specifically? Or was the tribe his prime interest? And what did she write about them in the letters she sent to the firelord every other day? Zuko decides that he will try his best not to give her anything to write about, from now on. The less his father knows about him, the better.

”Oh come on, Noriko,” his uncle supplies. ”There is no harm in letting prince Zuko spend some time alone with other children his age.”

”I’m not a child,” Zuko mutters, but uncle pays him no mind.

”It will be good for him to get to know the tribe and find some friends,” he says. ”He will need it, if he is to make this place his home.”

Noriko washes her hands in the sink and turns to look at uncle.

”Did you not hear the chief? He won’t marry the prince. We’ll be leaving soon, he won’t have time to make any friends.”

Zuko holds out a hand towards the fire, concentrating on making the flame first grow, then shrink in time with his breathing.

”I had a meeting with the chief this afternoon,” uncle says.

Noriko regards him with a frown.

”When you said you were just going back to fetch your scarf?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. ”You are not supposed to have meetings in my absence, firelord Ozai was very clear in his instructions…”

Uncle makes a placating gesture with his hands. Zuko leans towards the fire, letting his fingers dance through the flames while listening intently for any clues regarding what uncle meant with his cryptic letter.

”I know, Noriko, and I’m sorry, but I thought the chief might be a bit more amenable in a more private meeting,” uncle says. ”And he was. He was able to see the benefits of going through with the marriage, and I believe he will change his mind.”

Zuko wonders what benefits might have swayed the chief. He had seemed quite adamant that marrying a child would be immoral, and illegal. What had uncle offered him that had made him abandon his morals? Gold? Power and influence? And why was uncle so invested in the marriage going through? Did he not realize that Zuko didn’t want it? Did he believe that being married to the chief would be preferable to going home to father having failed? At least here Zuko would still be alive. He supposes that’s better.

And Katara is here, too, and she seems to like him. So maybe it wouldn’t be all bad? He thought again of the chief, of his nervous smile during the meeting, of his gaze turning serious when he had explained why he couldn’t marry Zuko. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, being married to him? At least he hadn’t accepted the marriage knowing who Zuko was. That was a plus, right? The chief had thought Zuko was someone older, maybe even a woman? Maybe the chief wasn’t interested in men in that way? He had been with Katara’s mother at some point, after all.

Zuko imagines sharing a home with the chief. Would he be expected to cook and clean? He knew the gender roles here were more traditional than in the fire nation, that women here were expected to be house makers to a larger extent than they were back home. But Zuko wasn’t a woman. Were the roles still as strictly divided within a relationship between men? Was someone always expected to carry out the role of the woman, regardless of gender? Then again, Hakoda was the chief, surely he had servants to handle the household chores? But Zuko hadn’t seen any servants of any kind, so far.

He tries to imagine it, preparing fish for dinner the way Noriko just had been, getting fire wood. Taking care of his children? He scrunches up his nose. No. The chief’s children were his age. Surely they could take care of themselves? He imagines sharing a bed with the chief, or kissing him, and shudders, stopping his thoughts before they continue further down that path.

Zuko has never even kissed anyone his own age. He doesn’t want his first ever kiss to be with chief Hakoda. He doesn’t want any of the things currently running through his mind.

His thoughts are interrupted by Noriko poking his shoulder.

”Stop playing with the fire, prince Zuko, I need to cook dinner.”

Zuko withdraws his hands with a muttered ”sorry”. Noriko loads the gutted fish onto a skillet, together with some herbs and salt.

”Well, if the chief changes his mind then I guess that’s a good thing,” she says. ”And good thing I didn’t have the time to send a letter to the fire lord about it just yet. But I can’t have you both running around without me, I’m supposed to be included in all meetings regarding the prince and this marriage. Firelord Ozai said…”

”And you will be,” uncle interrupts her once again. ”I apologize for not including you this time, but I do believe it worked out in our favor. And I don’t believe that my brother meant for you to watch over Zuko’s every step, I think it would be perfectly fine to allow him to play with his new friend unsupervised.”

”I’m too old to play,” Zuko mutters, once again to no avail.

Noriko puts an iron grid over the fire, and puts the skillet with the fish on it. The fish starts sizzling right away, and the smell coming from it makes Zuko’s mouth water. He realizes he hasn’t eaten since breakfast.

”Very well,” Noriko says. ”I suppose there’s no harm in letting you spend time with that water tribe girl on your own, prince Zuko. But no more meetings without me,” she warns uncle, waving a spatula in his direction in a vaguely threatening manner.

Uncle puts his hands up in mock surrender, earning a smile from Noriko. She turns the fish over, revealing crisp, brown skin on the other side, and Zuko’s stomach gives an audible rumble at the sight, Noriko cutting an amused glance in his direction.

”They don’t have too much here in the way of vegetables,” she says. ”But I got some seaweed and something called sea prunes that I hope will do the trick.”

Zuko discreetly gags behind his hand.

Zuko feels a distinct sense of deja vu, as he sits crosslegged across from the chief, his advisors flanking him in the same way uncle and Noriko flanks Zuko. The chief looks nervous, again, and Zuko once again has no idea why.

”Well,” Hakoda starts, clearing his throat. ”Hello, again.”

Agni, Zuko thinks. This is going to be awkward, isn’t it.

”After our last meeting, uh, Iroh, I mean general Iroh, brought to my, to our, attention that perhaps it was a bit… rash, of me, to reject this… arrangement outright.”

Zuko feels suddenly heavy with dread. What had uncle done? And why? The chief looks uncomfortable where he’s seated, his gaze landing everywhere but on Zuko, which only serves to piss Zuko off. If this man has decided that he’s suddenly fine with marrying a fifteen year old boy, he should at least be able to look him in the eye. Zuko keeps his gaze glued to Hakoda’s face in defiance, but the chief still evades it. Mostly he glances to Zuko’s right, where uncle is seated.

”So I heard,” Noriko pipes up to his left. ”May I ask what brought about this change of heart?”

The chief’s eyes once again quickly shifts to uncle, then back to Noriko, carefully avoiding Zuko in between.

”The general pointed out how this arrangement will be mutually beneficial to both our nations,” the chief says.

”Had that not been obvious before?” Zuko surprises even himself by speaking up.

Chief Hakoda’s gaze quickly cuts to him, then once again slides off to the side. Zuko is quietly seething. What is going on?

”Well, yes, but uncle, I mean your general, I mean your uncle, pointed out some things to me that I had previously overlooked.”

A movement in the periphery catches Zuko’s attention, and he turns towards the advisor on Hakoda’s right, the man called Bato. Is the man rolling his eyes? At the chief?

”And what things did general Iroh point out?” Noriko asks, oblivious to the small act of defiance from one of the chief’s closest men.

”Um…” Hakoda says, and his eyes flicker towards uncle again.

”I offered the chief a trade deal,” uncle says, voice light. ”A very beneficial one.”

A trade deal? His uncle had bought the chief with a trade deal? And the chief had accepted? Was that all his morals were worth? Was that all Zuko was worth? There’s a sudden tightness across his chest, but he has already stormed off from a meeting once, he can’t do it again, he won’t. He takes a deep breath, tries to center himself, looking once again at the chief, who, for the briefest of moments, actually meets his gaze.

”With all due respect, general Iroh,” Noriko says. ”I do not think the fire lord has given you the mandate to negotiate trade deals with the water tribe.”

”Oh, I’m sure my brother will realize that the deal is a small price to pay for this arrangement to move forward,” Iroh says.

His voice is still light, but Zuko knows he only calls the fire lord his brother when he wants to remind others who they’re dealing with. It usually works. Few people are willing to stand up to the former crown prince of the fire nation, and Noriko definitely isn’t one of them. She huffs, though, as a sign of discontent, but doesn’t push the subject.

”Well, then,” she says. ”This is good news, I suppose. We will commence with the preparations for the ceremony as soon as possible.”

The chief looks confused.

”Preparations?” he asks.

”Well, yes,” Noriko says, and she suddenly sounds chipper. ”The fire nation marriage traditions are intricate, and you must learn everything there is to know about it if you want to be ready in time for the wedding.”

The chief looks a bit faint.

”That’s…” he starts. ”Alright, yes, I will…do that.”

He hears the rustle as Noriko gets up, and Zuko makes to stand up as well, but the chief puts a hand out to stop him. Zuko thinks he might grab hold of his arm, and stiffens, but the chief just lets his hand hover between them.

”Wait,” he says. ”I would like to speak to the prince alone.”

Zuko does not at all wish to speak to the chief alone, he would, in fact, be happy if he didn’t have to lay eyes on chief Hakoda until the wedding, though he knows that won’t be possible. He sits back down, instead, back straight and stiff, looking somewhere to the chief’s left, the defiant stare from before gone as he realizes that defiance will probably not land him anywhere good with the man who is once again his husband-to-be.

”No,” Noriko says. ”The bride and the groom, or, I guess, the groom and the groom…” she falters slightly, and Zuko looks up at her. He might have found the utterly confused look on her face amusing, had it been under any other circumstance. ”The couple to be,” she settles on. ”Are not to be left unchaperoned before the wedding.”

Zuko suppresses a shudder.

”I can act as chaperone,” his uncle says.

”I don’t think…” Noriko starts, but is interrupted by the chief.

”Bato! Why don’t you escort Noriko to the market? It’s almost dinnertime and all the good fish will be gone if she doesn’t get there soon.”

Zuko once again looks over at Bato-the-advisor, who seems reluctant, but still gets up from the floor.

”Yes, we wouldn’t want to miss the good fish,” he says, with a tone of voice that indicates that he couldn’t care less about it.

”But the fire lord…” Noriko starts.

She doesn’t get to finish, though, as uncle and the advisor more or less shoves her out of the igloo. There’s a moment of tense silence as they all listen to the retreating footsteps and Noriko’s protests getting fainter. When she and the advisor can no longer be heard, chief Hakoda turns to uncle, looking… exasperated?

”A trade deal?” he says.

Uncle shrugs.

”I had to tell her something.”

”Doesn’t that mean you will actually have to negotiate a trade deal with the fire lord?” the advisor-who-is-not-Bato asks.

”Perhaps,” uncle replies. ”But we will cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Zuko still has no idea what is going on. The chief didn’t know about the trade deal? But he still had agreed the marry Zuko because of the trade deal? Maybe the South Pole is not actually another nation, but a parallel dimension where nothing makes sense.

”What is going on?” Zuko says, more to himself than to anyone else, but the chief still hears him, and he finally, finally, looks at him for longer than half a second, his brows furrowed.

”What do you mean, what’s going on?” he asks.

”I mean: what’s going on?” Zuko repeats.

He wants to ask more, wants to scream at the chief, wants him to tell Zuko why he suddenly changed his mind, again, about this marriage, wants to yell at his uncle for going behind his back, for making Zuko go through with a marriage that he himself does not want, wants to set this entire igloo on fire although he knows it’s not possible. He does neither of that, though, instead he forces himself to take deep breaths.

The chief gets up from the floor, looking at uncle with something wild in his eyes.

”You didn’t tell him?” he says, gesturing at Zuko.

”Tell me what?” Zuko asks, but no one listens.

”I did,” uncle says. ”I gave him a letter.”

Zuko finds it harder and harder to keep his calm.

”Tell me what, uncle?” he says again, voice undercut by anger.

Iroh looks at him in confusion, which is not fair, he has no right to feel confused. He obviously knows what is happening, knows what Zuko doesn’t.

”About the plan,” Iroh replies, as if that should tell Zuko anything.

He gets up from the floor, turning to face his uncle.

”What plan?” he asks, almost snarls.

”Tui and La, you didn’t tell him?” the chief repeats, a note of hysteria tinging his voice.

And just like that, Zuko is done. He has spent no more than two days in this weird, confusing nation, far from home and everything familiar, and he is done.

”No one told me anything!” Zuko yells, as he turns towards the chief. ”No one ever does. All people ever do is decide things for me behind my back or above my head, and then expect me to just dance along like some trained circus platypus bear. And I’m fucking sick of it.” He whirls around on his uncle. ”You hear that, uncle. I’m not having it anymore.”

He’s halfway to the door when he feels a hand on his shoulder. His throat closes up in panic and he turns around, fire erupting from his hand as it collides with the arm of his assailant. Then several things happen in quick succession. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye, his bad one, but before he has fully registered it, chief Hakoda is in front of him. Zuko takes a surprised step back and knocks into his uncle, who grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him behind him, feet moving into a fighting stance.

Chief Hakoda is staring down his advisor, the tip of the latter's spear mere inches from the chief’s throat, his hand clasped around it. The advisor’s eyes are wide, almost scared.

”We do not pull our weapons on children, Gilak,” the chief says, and there is venom dripping from his words.

He knocks the spear to the side, and Zuko can see a few drops of blood splattering to the floor as he does.

”Hakoda, I…” the advisor starts, but the chief doesn’t let him finish.

”Leave,” he says. ”Now.”

His voice doesn’t leave any room for questioning, and the advisor drops his gaze to the floor and does as he’s told. The chief turns to uncle, his eyes hardened with anger.

”You too,” he says to Iroh. ”Out.”

Uncle relaxes his stance, but he doesn’t leave.

”Chief Hakoda…” he starts, but the chief interrupts once again.

”I said out.”

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. The message gets across. Uncle bows and exits the igloo, leaving Zuko alone with the chief. The man’s gaze softens as soon as they’re alone. Zuko notices that the chief’s clothes are singed, the white and blue turned black and grey with soot in places. He feels a flicker of guilt but he doesn’t dwell on it.

”Prince Zuko,” the chief says. ”I’m sorry.”

Zuko’s heart is s till beating wildly in his chest, both from anger and fear. He narrows his eyes at the older man.

”What for?”

The chief huffs out a laugh.

”I’m not really sure,” he says. ”Everything, I suppose.”

The fight and the anger from earlier seems to have left the chief as soon as he and Zuko were alone. Now he mainly looks tired. And earnest. The eyes that previously had done anything to avoid Zuko’s face now doesn’t waver. The chief heaves a deep sigh.

”I know I haven’t deserved it, but I would like a chance to explain myself, if you’ll let me.”

Zuko feels lost. Part of him wants to say no, out of spite. He doesn’t owe the chief anything, and he suddenly knows, with certainty, that if he left, Hakoda would let him, even if that meant Zuko going back to the fire nation. That’s what makes him stay. He lets his gaze drop to the floor, to where the chief’s blood is slowly dripping onto the packed snow from his hand, seeping into it, making a puddle impossible to clean up without scooping up part of the floor with it.

”You’re bleeding,” Zuko says, dumbly.

The chief follows Zuko’s gaze to the floor, turning his palm over to look at the wound, flexing his hand a bit and grimacing as he does.

”I’ll live,” he says.

He looks back up at Zuko, then indicates the cushion made of some kind of animal fur that Zuko had sat on during the meeting with a small nod.

”Please, have a seat.”

Zuko crosses his arms, in defiance or for protection or maybe both.

”I’d rather stand.”

The chief sits down, then, looking up at Zuko. It makes it look like chief Hakoda is a small child peering up at a parent, and that image makes Zuko feel weird enough that he sits down, as well.

The chief tells him everything. From the deal forged with the fire nation under a thinly veiled threat and his own feelings about it, to his reaction to realizing that Zuko was the one he was suppose to marry, his decision to call it all off and then the plan Zuko’s uncle had hatched.

”I really do believe your uncle had nothing but your safety in mind,” Hakoda says. ”He cares deeply about you.”

Zuko knows this. As annoying as his uncle can be at times, Zuko has never doubted the fact that he cares.

”I realize his motives for proposing this plan,” Zuko says slowly, choosing his words carefully. ”But not yours in accepting it. You don’t know me, what difference doe it make to you if my father kills me? Your tribe could have stayed safe, as long as you honored the deal made with my nation.”

Hakoda suddenly looks sad.

”I will not have a child die because of a decision I made,” he says.

”I’m not a child,” Zuko says.

”You are to me.”

Zuko lets his gaze drop to his hands, where they lay resting in his lap. He is a strange man, the chief of the southern water tribe. Zuko doesn’t know what to make of him. He’s clearly proud, and a fierce warrior, if his showdown with his advisor is anything to go by, both virtues held in high regard in the fire nation. But he’s also soft, and caring, seeming to put the welfare of his family and village above all else, and not out of a belief in the superiority of his people, but out of love. These are characteristics Zuko has been taught to look down on, to use to his own advantage. An opponent who cares is an opponent who has something to lose, and by dangling that potential for loss in front of them, you can get them to do your bidding. He looks up at the chief again.

”Prince Zuko,” the chief says, his voice serious. ”I need you to know that if we see this through, this… marriage. It will only be for show. You will not be bound to me, in any way or form. I would only do it for the protection of my village, and of you. I do believe that you will be kept safe this way. But I also will not force you to go through with it against your will. If your answer is no, I will respect that, and I will understand.”

He falls quiet again, looking at Zuko like he’s trying to figure something out.

”And, I hope I’m not overstepping by saying it, but it is a disgrace your father sent you here in the first place,” he finishes.

Despite everything, Zuko has to bite his tongue to not defend his father. It’s an instinct, formed by years and years of fear mistaken for respect. He ponders the choice he has been given. The fire nation is his home, this tiny village on the frozen tundra is not. There, he is a prince, albeit a disgraced one, here, he is the enemy, someone who would never be welcomed under normal circumstances. Everything he knows is there, here his future is unknown. But he knows what will happen if he returns.

”I…” he starts, then stops, swallows. ”I don’t want to die.”

Zuko hears a soft intake of breath from the chief, but his gaze has fallen to his hands again and he doesn’t look up.

”Then I will let the fire nation representatives perform the wedding ceremony when they arrive,” the chief says, and Zuko is grateful that he leaves Zuko’s admission be, that he doesn’t comment or try to comfort. ”Until then, only the people closest to me will know that it is a sham, to keep the secret. But I will tell the village when the fire nation leaves.”

Zuko looks up then, and the chief offers him a small smile.

”I will not have you perform the duty of a spouse for longer than necessary,” chief Hakoda says. ”When your countrymen leave, you will be a child of the tribe. Nothing else.”

”What about Noriko?” Zuko asks.

Hakoda’s smile grows a bit wider.

”Your uncle seems to be convinced that she can be converted,” he says. ”So I trust he will deliver on that. If not, I know where the ice is thin and treacherous.”

Zuko’s eyes widen a bit, and the chief holds up his palms in a placating gesture, the slash across his palm from where he held onto his advisors spear clearly visible, congealing blood covering most of the hand.

”Kidding,” he says. ”Sorry. It was a bad joke.”

Zuko finds himself offering a small smile. The chief seems surprised by it. Zuko puts his hands together in the fire nation greeting, closed fist placed under open palm, forming a flame, and bows to the chief of the southern water tribe.

Chapter Text

”I will fucking kill Gilak,” Bato mutters as he cleans the wound in Hakoda’s palm with a little more force than necessary. Hakoda hisses, and Bato’s touch grows softer. ”Sorry.”

”He was just trying to protect me,” Hakoda says.

The look Bato sends him is unimpressed.

”By pulling his spear on a scared fifteen-year-old?”

Hakoda doesn’t reply. He understands why Gilak reacted the way he did, it’s what he was trained to do, what they were all trained to do, especially when being on the receiving end of an attack from a fire bender, but he still finds it inexcusable.

”He could have taken your fingers clean off,” Bato continues, dabbing carefully at the edges of the wound before pouring more disinfectant onto it. Hakoda hisses again, and his fingers twitch with the stinging pain. ”What was he thinking? What were you thinking, for that matter?”

He pauses to look at Hakoda, caught somewhere between exasperation and fondness. Hakoda shrugs.

”I knew he wouldn’t hurt me,” Hakoda says.

The fondness drops from Bato’s gaze, leaving only the exasperation.

”Oh, I guess I must be imagining the open wound in your palm then,” he says, resuming the cleaning. ”Spirits, you’re such a fucking idiot.”

”But I’m your fucking idiot?” Hakoda says, voice hopeful.

Bato sighs, deeply.

”You’re lucky you’re handsome,” he says, patting Hakoda’s knee.

”Ew, dad’s not handsome.”

Hakoda looks up to see his kids standing in the doorway, Sokka with a slight look of disgust on his face. Katara drops her bag on the floor and sits down at the table. They’ve been in school all afternoon, although Amak has told him that they help her teach the younger kids more than they get any actual learning done themselves, nowadays, but he supposes there’s learning in teaching, as well.

”How did the meeting go?” she asks, then pauses as she takes in the blood soaked pieces of cloth strewn across the table, the bottle of disinfectant and the wound in Hakoda’s palm. ”What happened?”

Sokka pauses his rummaging through the cupboards at the worry in Katara’s voice, his eyes widening as he, too, realizes that Hakoda has been hurt.

”Did they hurt you?” he asks, and Hakoda knows who they refer to in this scenario.

He’s quick to shake his head, before his children jump to any conclusions.

”No, they didn’t,” he says. ”It was all a misunderstanding.”

None of his kids look convinced.

”What kind of misunderstanding?” Katara asks, her voice sceptic.

”The kind where Gilak draws his weapon on a teenager and your father jumps in front of it because he’s a fucking idiot,” Bato answers in his place while he wraps a bandage around Hakoda’s hand.

”Bato,” Hakoda chides, but he can’t really object, since that is what happened. He would appreciate not being called an idiot in front of his children, though, but Bato says it with the fondness of a term of endearment, so Hakoda can not find it in himself to protest.

Katara’s eyebrows, previously furrowed in worry, now raises in surprise.

”What?” she asks.

Hakoda sighs as Bato ties the bandage.

”It’s a long story,” he says. ”But I’m fine.” He raises his now bandaged hand and waves it at his children. ”Look.”

”You’re lucky, you mean,” Bato says as he gets up from his chair and starts cleaning the used cloths off the table. ”Please stop doing things like that, love.”

He pauses and reaches a hand out to briefly touch Hakoda’s cheek. Hakoda is torn between leaning into the touch and to dismiss his comfort as to not worry his children any further. He settles on the former, playfully swatting Bato’s hand away.

”Stop fretting,” he tells him. ”It worked out just fine, in the end, didn’t it?”

Bato huffs out a laugh and tugs at one of Hakoda’s beaded braids.

”So it’s decided then?” Kara says.

Hakoda turn to his daughter.

”Yes,” he says. ”Prince Zuko will remain with the water tribe.”

He doesn’t talk about the marriage, he doesn’t have to, he had talked it through with his children last night, after arriving at the decision together with his advisors and his mother. If he was honest, he had decided before even talking to them.

There is no way he could have sent Zuko back to the fire nation, knowing what would happen to him once he got there. He had, however, tried to find alternative solutions that meant he didn’t have to go through with the marriage, but all of them would mean putting either the village or the prince at risk. In the end, it was decided that he would marry the prince according to fire nation customs, but not in the water tribe tradition. The marriage would still be real, would still be legally binding, but the thought of going through with a water tribe marriage as well, reciting the same vows he had with Kya, made Hakoda sick to his stomach. At least the fire nation ceremonies were foreign to him, and, as such, didn’t carry the same weight, although he supposed they did for the prince, and that pained him.

It had also been decided that only the council of elders and Hakoda’s closest family, as well as the prince and his uncle, would be privy to the arrangement before the actual wedding. That, of course, would mean that Hakoda would have to bear the scorn from the members of the tribe that found marriage to anyone under the legal age an abomination (which Hakoda hoped was all of them), but it meant a significantly lower risk of their plan to get leaked to the spy currently residing in their midst, or someone else who wouldn’t treat it with the secrecy necessary. Once the fire nation had left, Hakoda would let the rest of the village know, and Zuko’s standing would be shifted from spouse of the chief to that of a child of the tribe.

His kids had reacted very differently to the news. Sokka had gone down the same route as before, with disappointment and anger as his two primary emotions. Katara, though, had surprised him. She had told him that she still did not like the idea of him remarrying, or marrying a member of the fire nation, let alone someone who wasn’t of marrying age according to water tribe traditions and laws, but that she agreed with Hakoda’s goal of protecting the village and the fire nation prince.

She had also revealed that she had spent some time with the prince, and that she thought he was ”nice” (at which Sokka had scoffed) and that she didn’t want to see him get hurt. Hakoda had felt both proud and heartbroken at that. He hadn’t told his children the entire story of what had happened to prince Zuko at the hands of the fire lord - it wasn’t his story to tell - but he had made it clear that Zuko would not be safe returning to the fire nation, and, in that, had once again failed to protect them from the horrors of the outside world (Bato had later told him, in private, that protecting his children should or could not mean they didn’t get to learn about the bad things that happened, but rather to do his best to protect them from it happening to them.)

”Cool,” Katara says, drawing Hakoda from his musings.

She’s smiling at him, and he returns it with a confused smile of his own. Behind her, Sokka scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything else, just goes back to rummaging through the cupboards in what Hakoda can only assume is a search for food. Bato fishes the tiger seal jerky off of a shelf and hands it to Sokka, who opens the bag and greedily shoves a handful of the jerky into his mouth. Hakoda just rolls his eyes.

”We’re having dinner soon,” he tells his son. ”Don’t ruin your appetite.”

Sokka shakes his head.

”No such thing,” he replies, voice muffled behind the jerky.

Katara makes a face.

”Don’t speak with your mouth full,” she tells him, to which Sokka, predictably, opens his mouth wide. ”You’re so gross,” she says, picking up a piece of bloodied cloth still lying on the table and chucking it at her brother.

It bounces off Sokka’s forehead and he looks at his sister, aghast.

”That has dad’s blood on it!” he exclaims. ”Gross!”

”Well, it suits you, since you’re gross,” Katara retorts.

”Dad!” Sokka whines, his voice cracking over the word as it rises an octave.

Hakoda sighs. Stopping a spear with his bare hands feels like a walk in the park compared to raising two teenagers, sometimes.

”Katara, don’t call your brother gross,” he chides his daughter. ”And Sokka, don’t be gross.”

Sokka grumbles something about Katara being Hakoda’s favorite as he focuses his attention on the jerky again. Katara sticks out her tongue at her brother’s back, before turning to Bato.

”Bato,” she says, using the voice she only ever uses when she wants something she’s not sure she’ll be allowed. Hakoda narrows his eyes at his daughters saccharine smile as Bato turns towards her. ”Could I borrow your canoe tomorrow? I told Zuko I would take him fishing.”

Hakoda blinks in surprise at his daughter. Somehow the image of his water bending daughter going on a fishing trip with the prince of the fire nation is so absurd he has to suppress the urge to laugh. Sokka, on the other hand, seems to have no such urge, as he turns towards his sister with a look of horror on his face.

”Excuse me?” he says. ”You can’t just go fishing with that jerk bender all alone! Have you forgotten what happened to my boomerang?”

”That was your own fault,” Katara says, and Hakoda can see Sokka visibly balk.

”It was not!” he protests. ”He started it!”

Hakoda catches Bato’s gaze from across the table, but his partner just shrugs, clearly indicating that Hakoda is on his own in this. Hakoda stands up, putting one hand out towards his daughter and the other towards his son as they’re staring daggers at each other, as if to preemptively ready himself to keep them apart physically.

”Maybe who did what to whom doesn’t matter right now,” Hakoda says, Sokka’s resulting scoff an obvious disagreement with that statement. ”Katara, I think it’s a lovely idea for you to take prince Zuko fishing.”

Katara stops glaring at her brother to beam at her father. He raises the hand he’s already holding out towards her a bit further, indicating that he’s not done.

”However, you know you’re not allowed to take out the canoe on your own, and I doubt the prince is well acquainted with water nation canoes, so you’ll have to take your brother with you.”

Katara’s smug smile and Sokka’s glare are exchanged for almost identical expressions of outrage, as they turn to Hakoda in unison. He supposes he should be glad they can at least unite in their displeasure with their father. It brings a sense of normalcy that has been hard to come by ever since he agreed to marriage with a member of the fire nation.

That sense of normalcy is shattered the next day, though, when his quiet breakfast with Bato is interrupted by a knock on the door. The kids are still sound asleep in their bedroom, since they’re teenagers and their school day doesn’t start until early afternoon.

The school is, like everything else in their village, small, and Hakoda’s kids are the only two children with ages in the double-digits, so the teacher simply teaches the younger kids in the morning and Sokka and Katara during the afternoon. It’s not ideal but it works, especially since they will only be in school until they’re fifteen, at which they’re expected to start apprenticing in a profession that interests them.

Bato raises an eyebrow at him from across the fire pit, and Hakoda just shrugs and goes to get the door.

Outside he finds a smiling handmaiden, greeting him briefly before entering Hakoda’s home without awaiting an invitation, a supremely uncomfortable-looking fire prince trudging behind her, and, behind him, general Iroh, offering an apologetic smile as he follows the procession into the cabin.

”Welcome, then,” Hakoda says, more to himself than anyone else, closing the door and following the small party into the main room.

Bato looks surprised and slightly amused, as the small group files into the room.

Hakoda’s cabin is the largest one in the village, something he feels uncomfortable with, most of the time, but it was decided that the chief’s cabin should contain several rooms so that meetings could be held there when needed, seeing how the central igloo was also used as a school, a communal kitchen, storm shelter and sometimes daycare for the smaller children when all of the adults in the village were needed for other duties. So the chief’s cabin, still one of the few cabins the village had, had three separate rooms; the main room with the hearth, the kitchen area and a large table for meetings, Hakoda’s bedroom and his children’s bedroom. Most other cabins only had one large room, serving as kitchen, bedroom and social area, everything gathered around the fire pit.

It was only after the war ended and the trade routes opened up again that the south pole could import enough wood materials to build cabins, and the raids ending also meant that people felt safe enough to build their homes as more permanent structures, rather than something that could be taken down and moved if there was an attack, and that wouldn’t lead to the same devastation, were it to be burnt down. Hakoda hadn’t really realized the full impact of the war and the raids on his village until there was peace, and all of these things he had never considered needing before suddenly became available to him and his tribesmen.

”Oh,” the handmaiden says, upon seeing Bato. ”I didn’t realize you had company.”

”Well, yeah, Bato lives here at the moment, seeing how you’re cooped up in his cabin,” Hakoda explains.

”Ah. Of course,” she says. ”Silly me.”

Hakoda furrows his brows in confusion. He looks over at Bato, who raises one of his eyebrows, which Hakoda knows means he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop for Hakoda. Hakoda only offers a small shake of his head. He has no idea what this weird servant lady means. Why is she silly? Bato rolls his eyes and gets on his feet.

”Well, I need to get to work,” he proclaims to no one in particular. ”You have fun.”

Hakoda still feels confused. He watches the mismatched fire nation entourage currently in his home. Prince Zuko has his gaze stubbornly glued to the floor, or at least he seems to at first, but Hakoda can see him glancing around from time to time, his gaze sliding across the floor to the closed door to Hakoda’s bedroom, landing on the floor again before scurrying away to take a quick look at the various animal pelts, ceremonial knives and other knick-knacks that decorate the walls, then back to the floor again. Hakoda can’t help but smile to himself when he notices.

General Iroh makes no effort in hiding the way he looks around the cabin, hands clasped over his stomach, looking both curious and weirdly content and at home. The handmaiden (Hakoda should really learn her name, it’s not very nice to keep calling her the handmaiden like that’s all there is to her, but Hakoda can not for the life of him recall it at the moment) looks straight at Hakoda with an expectant smile, which takes him aback.

”Uh, right,” he says, scratching his beard. He looks over at Bato, who is putting his mug in the wash basin to be cleaned later, suddenly remembering something. ”I, uh, actually also have work to do today,” he says.

The handmaidens smile slips from her face.

”I’m sorry, chief Hakoda,” she says. ”But that will have to wait. This is far more important.”

Hakoda feels a slight annoyance at that. He is actually the chief of a tribe, and his duties don’t just disappear just because the fire nation deigns something else more important. Which reminds him…

”What is more important?” he asks, realizing that he has no idea why they are here, intruding on his breakfast.

The handmaiden indicates the canvas bag slung over her shoulder that Hakoda hadn’t noticed she carried. It’s filled with scrolls.

”You need to learn the traditions of the fire nation wedding ceremony,” she says. ”As well as the ins and outs of a royal fire nation marriage.”

He hears Bato snort softly behind him and fights the urge to groan.

”With all due respect,” he tells the handmaiden. ”I think that will have to wait. I’m suppose to meet the tribe’s warriors for training, and then I have a meeting with the council of elders this evening.”

The handmaiden looks thoroughly displeased with this information.

”I’m sorry, but if you mean to go through with this marriage then this needs to take precedent right now, chief Hakoda,” she tells him, voice teetering on the edge of sternness, like she’s scolding him. ”The marriage will not be valid in the eyes of the fire sage if the rituals are not performed correctly. Of course, when growing up in the fire nation this is something every person of marrying age learns, but we have only a few weeks to…”

”Okay, okay,” Hakoda concedes, interrupting the lecture. ”I guess Gilak can handle the training today, but I will have to attend the meeting.”

The handmaiden offers a curt nod.

”We should be done by then,” she says.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns towards Bato, leaning in for a goodbye kiss before remembering their audience, shifting instead to give his partner an awkward pat on the shoulder.

”Weill, I’ll see you later,” he tells Bato. ”Tell Gilak he’s in charge of the warriors, will you?”

When he turns back to the small entourage, the handmaiden is narrowing her eyes at Bato’s retreating back in suspicion. General Iroh regards Hakoda with an amused smile, and the prince is once again studying the floor. Hakoda sighs.

”Let’s get this started then, shall we?”

The fire nation, Hakoda decides, is ridiculous. The handmaiden (Hakoda has finally learned that her name is Noriko) has only given him a brief outline of all the rituals and traditions surrounding not only the wedding, but the time leading up to it, and the start of a married life. He feels exhausted.

Iroh has busied himself with making tea, and a pleasant aroma very much unlike pine needles is spreading through the cabin. Prince Zuko is seated next to Hakoda, having said a total of three words so far, none of them directed at Hakoda. But apparently this is Hakoda’s life now. He chances a glance at the prince, who doesn’t return it, instead staring straight ahead, still with an air of ”I’d rather be anywhere but here right now”. Hakoda turns to Noriko, interrupting her in the middle of a long tirade about some kind of tea ceremony.

”Excuse me,” he says. Noriko huffs at being interrupted, but indicates for him to continue. ”Didn’t you say that fire nation citizens are taught the rituals as soon as they reach the legal age for marriage?”

Noriko nods.

”Yes,” she says, eager at Hakoda showing some sort of interest in what she’s been telling him. ”Earlier even. It’s of utmost importance that they know it by heart, especially the royal family, where the marriages are often arranged from a young age.”

Hakoda pulls a face, once again glancing at the prince next to him, who still doesn’t acknowledge his presence.

”Then,” Hakoda continues. ”Surely there is no need for prince Zuko to be here for all of this? Why not let him make himself useful somewhere else? I’m sure my children would be delighted to spend some time with him, if they ever decide to get out of bed.”

At least Katara would, he thinks. Sokka would probably rather go take a swim with a tiger shark, but prince Zuko doesn’t need to know that. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the prince sit up a bit straighter, and across from him Noriko’s smile falters somewhat.

”Well, prince Zuko knows the groom’s rituals,” she says, hesitating for a second. ”But seeing how these are circumstances that are most… unusual, in the fire nation, he will have to learn the rituals of the bride.”

Oh. Oh. Hakoda knew, of course, that same sex marriages, and, as far as he knew, same sex relationships, were not tolerated in the fire nation. Had he not been busy panicking about the fact that the fire nation had sent him a child to marry, he would probably have been surprised that they hadn’t sent a woman. He knows there must be some reason the fire lord had sent his son, but Hakoda is not entirely sure what that reason is.

He looks at the prince again, his back ramrod straight, gaze fixed in front of him. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and there is a flush in his cheeks, of embarrassment or maybe anger.

Hakoda is not stupid. Though it is his firm belief that men and women are of equal standing, and equally as capable, he’s not blind. The gender roles in the water tribe are still of the more traditional kind. Men and women are expected to take up different roles, and that colors the perception people have of the different genders. He has heard the boys in the village taunt each other by claiming someone ”threw like a girl” or was ”as emotional as an old woman” or calling work they found beneath them ”women’s work”, he had probably said something similar when he was a boy himself. He guesses the fire nation has similar notions regarding gender, and that women, because of that, will be seen as less than men. Zuko assuming a role traditionally reserved for a woman of course means something, and whatever it means to the prince it’s nothing good. Hakoda wishes it didn’t have to be that way, but it’s not something he can single-handedly change.

”That seems unnecessary,” he says. ”If prince Zuko has already gone through all the trouble to learn the rituals of the groom, it’s only right that I will learn the rituals of the bride.”

Hakoda catches the prince finally turning to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Noriko huffs out a surprised laugh, looking between them. And, sure, Hakoda would in no shape or form pass for a woman, but then again, neither would the prince, despite his more delicate features, and that wasn’t the point of this, was it?

”I could lose the beard, if that would help,” he jokes, earning another snorted laugh from Noriko and a wide smile from Iroh, who steps forward to set down steaming cups of tea in front of them.

Noriko composes herself, looking between them again, the smile once more slipping from her face.

”That won’t be possible, I’m afraid,” she says. ”The fire lord was quite clear in his instructions.”

Hakoda’s eyebrow furrow in confusion. What difference would it make to the fire lord who assumed what role for the wedding? He wouldn’t even be here for it. A small movement to his left catches his attention. The fire prince’s hands have curled into fists on his thighs, tight enough that the skin straining over his knuckles turns white. Hakoda shifts his attention to Noriko again.

”I fail to understand the importance of it,” he says. ”Surely the fire lord…”

”It’s fine,” the prince interrupts. ”It doesn’t matter.”

General Iroh, now seated at the prince’s left, touches a hand to his shoulder, but the prince shrugs it off.

”It’s fine,” he repeats, voice tight. ”Let’s continue.”

A sadness settles like a weight on Hakoda’s chest, though he can’t really say why. He sighs, turning his attention back to Noriko.

”Hakoda.”

Hakoda turns towards his advisor. The members of the council of elders are filing out from the igloo. The meeting had gone well, The council agreed that protecting the village needed to be top priority, and that going through with the original plan if marriage would be a way to ensure that. It probably also helped that Kanna had gone from being starkly against this entire arrangement, to defending it.

Hakoda does not fool himself into thinking that council in general extends the same kind of concern to prince Zuko as they do towards the village, but his mother switching sides is absolutely connected to a strong instinct to protect the young prince, and the council had listened to her as she explained this side of the argument as well, and at least had not disagreed with her stance.

”Yes, Gilak?”

”Could I maybe speak to you for a moment?” he asks, and then his gaze cuts to Bato who is standing by Hakoda’s shoulder. ”Alone,” he adds.

Bato looks at Gilak with an eyebrow raised, but ultimately just shrugs.

”I’ll see you back at the cabin,” he tells Hakoda, and offers Gilak a small nod as he departs.

Hakoda waits for the last council member to leave, then turns his attention fully to Gilak. Gilak looks both hesitant and determined.

”I need to be honest with you, Hakoda,” Gilak says. ”This whole thing gives me a bad feeling.”

Hakoda hadn’t been expecting that, although maybe he should have. Gilak was more wary of the fire nation than most of them. He had lost both of his parents in a raid when he was just a boy, before Hakoda was even born. He rarely spoke about it, though.

”Why didn’t you speak up against it during the meeting, then?” Hakoda asks.

He’s in no way a perfect leader, but he tries to make sure that everyone feels comfortable voicing their opinions at council meetings, even when it might be one diverging from the majority. It hurts him, slightly, that Gilak, his own advisor and one of his closest friends, had not felt comfortable doing so.

”The council was already on your side, and sometimes speaking out in those situations just makes for an unnecessary argument,” Gilak says. Hakoda is about to disagree, but Gilak continues. ”But it makes me uneasy. These are not just some random fire nation nobles, this is the crown prince and the fire lord’s brother.”

Gilak’s face is serious as he speaks.

”I know,” Hakoda says. ”And I don’t pretend to know the reason why prince Zuko was sent here, but he was, and we have to try to make a choice here that doesn’t put our village or the prince at risk.”

Gilak’s mouth is a thin line of displeasure.

”With all due respect, Hakoda, what difference does it make to us what the firelord will do to his son? One less fire nation royal in the world is not something I will mourn. His great grandfather was the one to start the war, for spirit’s sake!”

Gilak’s words feel like a punch to the gut. He had thought he knew the other man, thought they understood each other even though they might not see eye to eye in this, but what Gilak’s saying now… Hakoda clenches his jaw with sudden anger.

”He is a child, Gilak,” he says. ”He is a fifteen year old boy abused by his own father and you would have me send him back knowing that he would get killed? You would even think it, what? Preferable?”

Gilak stands up a bit straighter, squaring his shoulders. He is obviously not backing down from this. Fine, then. Neither is Hakoda.

”Don’t try to make it sound like a want to see a child dead,” Gilak replies. ”I’m just saying that what the firelord does to his own family does not concern us. What he does, or might do, to our village, does. And I trust general Iroh about as far as I can throw him. How do we know he even speaks the truth? I fail to see how the firelord would benefit from killing his own heir. How do we know the general is not just lying to us?”

It makes Hakoda falter, for a moment. The questions Gilak are asking are not unreasonable. Hakoda have turned them over in his own head again and again. In truth, it all simply boils down to Hakoda’s gut feeling, and the fact that prince Zuko’s scar is undeniably there. But Gilak has a point; The general could just be a very convincing liar. Still…

”Does it matter?” Hakoda asks. ”We still have an agreement with the fire nation we need to honor. If not the prince, then someone else would just be sent here. Plus we’d be risking angering the firelord if we refuse this particular offer. Then we would still be putting the village at risk.”

Gilak crosses his arms over his chest. He’s a large man, big and bulky even as he’s aged, still one of the tribe’s most skilled warriors.

”You have a bleeding heart, Hakoda,” Gilak says. ”It’s partly what makes you a good chief. But I fear that it has lead you astray, in this particular instance. And if it has, the consequences could be dire.”

Hakoda looks his friend in the eye.

”Do you wish to challenge me, Gilak?” he asks.

For a moment Hakoda thinks he will, but then Gilak sighs.

”No,” he says. ”I simply wish to let you know where I stand. I will get behind this decision, since it’s what the council and you find best. But I fear the people will not be as forgiving when they find out. And I believe you are making a mistake. Good night, Hakoda.”

He offers Hakoda his arm, and Hakoda grasps it. The greeting is brief, and Gilak’s eyes are still hard with determination, and maybe some anger. He leaves the igloo, and Hakoda wonders if he just lost a friend.

Chapter Text

This entire ”the sun barely setting”-business is interrupting Zuko’s carefully calibrated inner clock. Sure, there are fluctuations in the length of day and night in the fire nation as well, but no more than one or two hours. Here, though, it seems like all bets are off. It has only been two, maybe three hours since the sun set, and already it’s peaking over the horizon, connecting to Zuko’s inner fire and rousing him from sleep much too early. He blinks up at the ceiling blearily for a moment. He almost wishes he was disoriented, almost longs for a short moment of confusion where he’s not sure where he is, but he’s all too aware of where he is and why he’s here.

He crawls out of bed and the tent-like structure surrounding it. There’s a small bite of cold to the air even though he’s inside and even though the fire is burning bright in the hearth. Uncle is already up, sitting crosslegged on a cushion, five candles lit in front of him. His eyes are closed, hands resting on his knees, and his breaths are deep and calm, the small flames of the lit candles growing and shrinking with it. Zuko can hear Noriko snoring from her sleeping tent. Before this, Zuko had assumed that snoring was something that only men of his uncle’s age and stature did, but apparently he was wrong. Zuko plops himself down unceremoniously next to his uncle.

”I know you said you think fire benders would strengthen their bending by staying here,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep. ”But they’d have to try to not pass out from sleep deprivation first.”

He can hear his uncle snort out a laugh as he closes his own eyes, taking a deep breath.

He’s never really understood half the things his uncle sprouts about spirits and honoring Agni and connecting to your breath, and the people in the fire nation don’t really care that much for spirituality anymore except as religious tradition, but he knows it’s important to his uncle. And uncle is the only person in Zuko’s life who seems to care about him at all (at least since his mother left, or died, or whatever happened to her), so he tries to express his gratitude in the ways he can, the ways he feel comfortable with. Telling him outright is not an option, Zuko wouldn’t know how and there is still this nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that everyone who cares for him eventually leaves him, so meditation it is.

Zuko allows his breath to even out, breathing deep and slow, in through the nose, out through the mouth. It’s not total ostrich horse shit, this meditation business. Zuko can feel his inner fire connect to his breath whenever he allows himself to fall deep enough into it. Today, though, it won’t. His mind is spinning with everything that has happened and everything that’s still to come, and his attention keeps straying. He gives up, much too soon, with an annoyed huff.

Iroh is sitting very still, still, his breath an even flow, not unlike the sound of waves, the flames of the candles continuing to move with it. He wonders, briefly, if his uncle had been as spiritually inclined before Lu Ten’s death, and then immediately feels guilty for thinking it. It hardly matters, anyway. His uncle’s spiritual conviction now is strong, regardless of whether it was formed by loss or not.

Zuko gets up and moves across the floor of the small cabin to stand by the window. The morning light tints the sky in pink and yellow hues, and it makes the snowy scenery outside look softer. The village is mostly deserted, since it’s still early, but Zuko spots a small group of maybe four or five men in the distance, making their way towards the sea. The fishermen, he supposes. He recognizes Bato-the-advisor among them, and is reminded of the conversation he overheard between Noriko and uncle yesterday. Or rather, how Noriko talked to uncle about how she suspected there might be more to the relationship between the chief and his advisor than just that of chief and advisor, uncle just humming along and interjecting placating words when Noriko got herself worked up.

Zuko had been in his bed, feigning sleep, but he had wondered if it was true. It would certainly explain why the chief seemed to give Bato so much leeway in talking back to him (although he also seemed to allow the same amount of insolence from the-advisor-that-is-not-Bato). The chief didn’t seem to hold the same control over his subordinates as his father did. He knows he should see it as a weakness, but he’s not sure he does.

The fishermen disappears behind the wall surrounding the village. If it is true, if the chief and his advisor really are more than just that, then Zuko wonders what the advisor thinks of this entire ordeal. Surely nothing good. Zuko has never been in love, but he supposes having the person you love marry someone else is not something you would want. Something inside him aches as he thinks about it. How different this nation must be from his own, if even someone with as high a standing as the chief can decide for himself who he will love.

Zuko is pulled from his musings by a hand on his shoulder, and he tenses and whirls around on whoever’s behind him. It’s his uncle, obviously, holding his hands up in surrender with a jovial smile on his lips. It makes Zuko realize he has dropped into an attack stance, and he quickly steps out of it, cheeks heating with embarrassment as he opens his mouth to speak. Uncle puts a finger to his lips, and gestures towards Noriko and then towards the door. Zuko closes his mouth and nods, pulling on his boots and the parka he’d brought with him from home. He eyes the blue one he had gotten from Kanna, folded up neatly on a bench by the door. He knows it would probably protect him better from the cold, but it stills feels wrong to don himself in water tribe colors, feels simultaneously like a betrayal and like he’s not worthy. Uncle closes the door quietly behind them, and they move away from the cabin in silence, not speaking until they’re both sure they’re well out of earshot from Noriko. Zuko is still not sure how explicit his father had been in his instructions to the handmaiden, but he doesn’t necessarily want to test her prowess as a spy either.

”How are you, nephew?” uncle asks as they move through the quiet village.

”Tired,” Zuko replies, and it’s at least part of the truth. He is tired, but not mainly because of lack of sleep. Everything about this is exhausting.

Uncle hums.

”That is understandable,” he says. ”I am still sorry that you had to be put in this situation.”

Zuko doesn’t say anything. They haven’t been able to talk about any of this properly since getting here, not with Noriko living with them in such close quarters, watching over, if not their every steps, then at least as many of them as she can manage. Zuko doesn’t know what to say. He had accepted the chief’s offer, uncle’s plan, because, well, because he likes being alive, despite everything. But when he thinks about what it all means, that this tiny, ice covered village will be his home from now on, something tightens around his chest.

Will he ever be able to return home again? When he had learned of what his father had planned for him, his primary concern had been the fact that he would have to marry the chief, and everything that marriage would entail. Now that the marriage will be a sham, he finally has time to think about everything else, and… he doesn’t want to. It’s too much, trying to imagine his future, so he doesn’t. He tries to focus instead on what comes next, the closest next step, tries to focus on the day ahead, or the hours closest to now. It makes it more manageable, makes him not feel like he’s slowly being choked.

”It seems you get along well with the chief’s children,” uncle says, his voice measured, like he’s realizing Zuko is already balancing precariously close to the edge of… something, and treads carefully to avoid Zuko falling.

He shrugs.

”The daughter, at least,” he says. ”I think that boy might still be a bit upset that I set his boomerang on fire.”

That’s an understatement. The boy hadn’t said a word to him all afternoon yesterday, although they were all crammed together in a small canoe. Katara had talked enough for the both of them. For all three of them, actually, seeing how Zuko hadn’t been too chatty either. He isn’t used to be around people his own age, at least not around people his own age that aren’t servants. He hadn’t known how to act, had been stumbling and awkward which annoyed him. He is the crown prince of the fire nation, he should be able to hold a conversation with a thirteen year old girl.

”Nephew, I realize this is difficult for you, but I…”

”I don’t want to talk about it,” Zuko interrupts, his voice tight with restrained emotion that Zuko can’t even name himself.

Uncle sighs next to him. They’re at the wall, because it’s impossible to keep moving through this tiny village without reaching it within a few minutes. Uncle looks up the smooth, white surface, Zuko following his gaze. A red and black messenger hawk is perched on top of it. Uncle looks around quickly, then gives a small whistle. The bird leaps off the wall, flapping its wings a few times before landing in uncle’s outstretched hand. Uncle strokes across its feathers before fishing a few seeds out of his pocket and feeding it to the bird. Zuko has no idea what’s going on.

The hawk has a message tied to its leg, and uncle unfastens it, unfolding the small piece of paper. The neat but flourish handwriting on it seems familiar, and Zuko’s eyes widen as he spots Noriko’s signature on the bottom of the paper.

”You’re intercepting Noriko’s letters?” he asks.

Uncle hushes him, and Zuko realizes that he’s raised his voice.

”I can see no harm in knowing what information our dear handmaiden sends back to the fire lord,” uncle says. ”Or making a few adjustments.”

He procures a paintbrush, already dipped in ink, from his robes and carefully blots out a few words from the letter, making it look like a mistake in writing. Then he folds up the paper and re-attaches it to the hawks leg again. He feeds it a few more seeds, before sending it on its way.

”Noriko is a nice girl,” he says, as he watches the hawk become a small dot on the horizon. ”But she is very loyal to the fire lord and our nation. It’s why she was chosen for this mission.” Uncle looks at Zuko. ”There is kindness in her, though, and I do believe she has grown to care about you. I believe this will be an advantage.”

It’s easy to forget that his uncle used to be a general, that he was feared and respected, that he led the 600 day long siege of Ba Sing Se. He plays the roll of harmless old man well, but now, Zuko is reminded of his cunning, of why he was considered one of the main strategists in the war, before Lu Ten’s death, when he so casually mentions using someone’s sentimentalities to his own advantage. And then it’s gone again, hidden behind a jovial smile.

”I believe it’s time we made our way back,” he says. ”Noriko will awake soon, and she will be most upset if we are not there when she does.”

Zuko nods, and they start their slow trek back to the cabin. They haven’t been outside for more than ten minutes, fifteen at most, but Zuko can already feel the cold slipping beneath his robes, making goosebumps form across his arms and legs, making him shiver slightly. He doesn’t see how he will ever get used to this cold. He inhales deeply, reaching for his inner fire, but it’s so difficult to reach it in the cold, and he only half manages to warm himself.

”I believe it is time for us to resume your fire bending training,” uncle says, like he can read Zuko’s mind. Maybe he can. ”You need to learn how to adjust to the cold, and the sun’s cycle. We need to start preparing for the polar nights.”

”I’m sure having a pair of fire bender’s practicing their bending in the middle of the village will go over well,” Zuko says.

Uncle cuts a glance at him.

”We can practice out on the tundra,” uncle says. ”Maybe we can show them that fire doesn’t always have to be destruction.”

Zuko doubts it. Sometimes he himself has trouble seeing how fire can be used for other things than fighting and destruction. Uncle has always told him that fire is life, and Zuko can understand that, in theory. But most of the training Zuko has received in the art of bending has been focused on battle and brute force. That said, he would like to get back into practice. He has never been good enough at fire bending, never having the near instinctual grasp of it that his sister and his father and his uncle seem to have. He has to practice if he wants to become good, to even come close to the prowess Azula has shown.

”I will talk to the chief about it,” uncle says.

”I mean. Yeah, but I think it’s Noriko you will have to convince,” Zuko says. ”I don’t see her giving up her precious wedding ceremony teaching time easily.”

Uncle pulls a face.

”I suppose you’re right.”

Noriko hadn’t been happy at uncle’s suggestion, but she is a fire nation citizen, and, as such, has been taught both to hold benders and the royal family in high regard, so she concedes, although reluctantly. They have the mornings for their practice, the lessons surrounding the marriage ceremony starting up after breakfast.

Zuko’s days start picking up a pattern. Fire bending training in the mornings with uncle, lessons with Noriko and the chief after breakfast, his uncle usually present for them as well, making tea or meditating in the background. Sometimes Bato is there as well, and uncle somehow ends up teaching the advisor pai sho, which he seems enthusiastic to learn, but not as enthusiastic as he is about uncle’s tea making skills. Whenever Bato is there, Zuko carefully watches the interaction between him and the chief for any indication that Noriko’s suspicions might be true. He doesn’t really know why he does it, it shouldn’t really matter to him, but he does anyway. Sometimes he thinks he sees it, in lingering touches or meaningful glances, but he’s not sure.

In the afternoons, Katara usually seeks him out, and sometimes her surly brother is trudging along, although probably not of his own volition. He still seems to dislike Zuko with a passion, barely speaking to him, which Zuko is actually fine with, he doesn’t care that much for him, either. Katara seems intent on showing him the ins and outs of life in the southern water tribe, and aside from fishing she has taken him to explore the tundra (which was a bit underwhelming, seeing how it is just flat and frozen, but she had seemed eager regardless and Zuko finds it disarming, somehow), she has shown him the small hut where they smoke the fish that is to be preserved for winter, and had even coaxed him into helping the fishermen clean the fish on one occasion, which had been disgusting.

It’s endearing, he supposes, how proud she is of her nation and her culture, how eager she is to show him. Zuko is used to the splendor of the royal life, the comforts of life in the palace, but he tries his hardest not to let it color his impression of the wolf cove. He knows he is supposed to think of the southern water tribe as inferior, that the justification of the war was to spread the culture of the far superior fire nation to the less fortunate, and it would be easy to see everything Katara shows him in the light of that, but it feels wrong to. His father would be even further convinced of Zuko’s uselessness if he could hear his thoughts, but his father isn’t here, his father is the one who sent him to this backwards tribe, so Zuko allows himself this small act of insolence.

”And so,” Noriko says, finishing off yet another one of her lengthy lectures, although about what aspect of the traditions Zuko couldn’t tell. ”That leads us into…”

Noriko trails off, and when Zuko looks at her, she looks hesitant, a faint pink tingeing her cheeks. Her silence seems to wake the chief from his stupor, as Zuko can see him sitting up a bit straighter from the corner of his eye, blinking at Noriko in confusion.

”Yes,” he says. ”That’s great. Riveting stuff.”

Zuko fights the urge to snort. He still feels confused by the chief, hasn’t figured him out despite spending several hours in his presence every day by now. That might have to do with the fact that he still goes out of his way to avoid talking to him. The knowledge that the chief has no real interest in marrying him of course makes all the difference in the world, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that they will, still, have to get married, and Zuko barely knows how to initiate a conversation with someone under normal circumstances, let alone with a man he’s suppose to marry in a few weeks time. Chief Hakoda has made a few attempts at stilted conversation, but Zuko doesn’t know how to respond, plus it all has to take place under the watchful eye of Noriko, who takes her chaperone responsibilities very seriously, which does nothing to detract from the awkwardness.

Noriko looks at the chief in disapproval, and Zuko half expects her to scold him for his obvious inattention (she has done that a few times, already), but instead she just lets her gaze flit to Zuko for a brief moment, before falling onto the table between them.

”Then follows the seven days of love making,” she says.

Zuko feels more than sees the chief stiffen beside him. Zuko does as well. He knows he won’t have to do that, but the mere thought of it… He shudders.

”During a full week the newly married couple will be exempt from all of their duties, and they are to be left alone to get know each other in intimacy,” Noriko continues, and Zuko wishes he could just astral project his soul from his body because this is just supremely awkward. ”In the fire nation, it is considered good luck if the first child is born within the first year of marriage, although,” she pauses, looking up at Zuko and the chief. ”I suppose that won’t…”

She is interrupted by a snort of laughter. Zuko turns towards the noise in unison with chief Hakoda and Noriko. Bato-the-advisor and uncle are seated on the floor, a pai sho-board between them but momentarily forgotten as Bato looks at them with obvious mirth in his eyes.

”If going at it like rabaroos for a week was all it took for two men to make a baby I would be the proud father of ten by now,” he says, and Zuko finds that enough to push the blush already adorning his cheek into potato-beetroot-territory.

”Bato,” the chief groans next to him. ”Please.”

Bato just lets out a hearty laugh, and Zuko’s uncle, the traitor, joins him.

”Though I suppose the glow of pregnancy would look good on you, Koda,” Bato continues, and Zuko would very much like to be anywhere but here right now, please and thank you. Chief Hakoda seems to share this sentiment, is his indignant spluttering is anything to go by.

”Bato! There are children present!” he chides.

”I’m not a child,” Zuko mutters, as if on autopilot,.

Chief Hakoda turns towards him with an unimpressed glare.

”Please don’t encourage him.”

Now it’s Zuko’s turn to splutter.

”No, I didn’t… That’s not… I don’t…”

He fights the urge to bury his face in his hands. He is a fire nation prince, he shall not be bested by a wayward dirty joke from the man who may, or may not be, the lover of his future husband. His inability to form complete sentences only seem to amuse Bato further, as well as uncle. Zuko doesn’t really know Bato, but he’s not above glaring daggers at his uncle, and so he does. Uncle, however, is not affected in the slightest, only chuckling to himself as he returns his attention to the game of pai sho.

From behind, Noriko clears her throat, and Zuko turns back towards her. There is still a blush high on her cheeks, and when Zuko studies her closer he can see that she struggles to keep a smile off her face.

”Noriko,” the chief says next to him. ”Are you laughing?”

Noriko presses her lips together and shakes her head. The chief huffs.

”I can’t believe this,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. ”I’ll have you know that the sacred week of love making is no laughing matter.”

Zuko can’t help the small snort of laughter that escapes him at that, somehow taken aback by the chief actually being funny. The chief gives him a surprised look, but he also looks a bit pleased with himself.

”Shut up,” Noriko says, but there’s no malice in her voice, and when Zuko looks at her again she is smiling, wide and genuine. Zuko can feel a knot of worry, small among all the other knots but there none the less, untie itself in his chest. He considers it a small win.

It’s not until later, when he is following Katara along while she searches for otter penguins to be used for sledding (Zuko is not entirely sure how that is supposed to work, but Katara had been adamant and he had relented, thinking that she probably knows better than him in this matter), that he realizes that Bato had basically revealed to a bunch of fire nation citizens that he had had relations with men, seemingly without second thought. It’s enough to stop him in his tracks, making Katara’s brother walk into him from behind.

”Hey,” Sokka calls out, indignantly. ”Watch it!”

Zuko ignores him.

”Katara,” he says, making the water tribe girl stop and turn towards him with an expectant look on her face. Zuko realizes it’s probably the fist time he has initiated any kind of conversation. It almost makes him falter, but his curiosity is stronger. ”Is Bato….”

He trails off, not knowing how to continue, not even knowing the right words for it. He knows what it is called back home, a vile, degrading word that he doesn’t want to take in his mouth. Katara furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

”Is Bato what?” she asks.

Zuko’s mind circles through a list of ways to ask what he wants to know, before settling on:

”Does Bato like men?”

”Oh,” she says. ”Yeah.”

She says it like it doesn’t matter, like it is just a fact among other facts, and Zuko’s mind is reeling.

”He and dad have been together for two years now,” she continues, in that same tone of voice, like it’s nothing. Zuko feels slightly dizzy.

”Katara!” Sokka exclaims. ”I’m pretty sure prince jerk bender here wasn’t supposed to know that.”

Sokka has taken up to calling Zuko a jerk bender whenever he can be bothered to acknowledge his presence. Zuko would be annoyed, only he doesn’t think Sokka consequential enough to get annoyed at. It’s a wildly unoriginal insult, at that, and Zuko has been called worse by his own sister many times.

Katara just shrugs.

”Well, he’s not really marrying dad anymore, is he?” she says. ”And he would have found out eventually anyway.”

Zuko has a million and one questions he would like to ask, but Sokka is glaring daggers at him and he’s convinced he wouldn’t even get through more than five of them without exposing things about himself that he rather wouldn’t, so he keeps quiet. Katara looks at him funny, but she doesn’t push it.

”Come on,” she says. ”I want to get to the otter penguins before dinner.”

He tells uncle about it during their fire bending training the next day.

”I figured as much,” his uncle says, and Zuko is once again convinced that there is nothing his uncle doesn’t know, which doesn’t bode well for his own secrets.

”You haven’t told Noriko, right?” he asks.

It’s a test, of sorts, of where uncle’s allegiance lies, and, maybe, what would happen if Zuko told him, sometime in the future. The fact that he wishes that uncle will keep this, in particular, a secret from Noriko and, by extension, the firelord, is in several ways a testament to what a disappointment of a son Zuko really is.

Uncle smiles.

”I really see no point in confirming Noriko’s suspicions,” he says. ”Though neither the chief nor his advisor seem particularly concerned with hiding it.” There’s silence for a few minutes, while uncle corrects Zuko’s stance and Zuko moves through a few fire katas. They have only been doing this for a few days, but Zuko already finds it easier to call upon his inner fire despite of the cold, and he is starting to sense what uncle talked about before, can actually feel himself getting stronger by the ever present sun (although the ”waking up at spirits forsaken hours in the morning” is still a problem).

”It doesn’t seem like it’s something that needs hiding here,” Zuko says, not able to squash his curiosity concerning this particular subject, although he knows he probably should.

He doesn’t elaborate what he’s talking about, and he doesn’t need to.

”It isn’t,” uncle says. ”And it shouldn’t be.”

He pauses for a moment, looking at Zuko with an expression Zuko can’t read, but it feels like being see-through.

”It wasn’t something to hide in the fire nation either, before the reign of your great grandfather,” uncle continues. ”But when the war began, it also marked a shift in national politics. More focus was placed upon the importance of family, and the concept of family was narrowed down to mean the parents and their children. Fire lord Sozin wanted his people to be strong, and able to fight, and so the duty of the fire nation citizens was to produce offspring that matched the firelord’s and, by extension, society’s standards. Some ways of living started to be seen as deviant, when they weren’t previously.”

Zuko has dropped his form, entirely focused now on what his uncle is telling him.

”It was wrong,” uncle concludes. ”We have no right to condemn any way of living just because it is not our own, and love freely given and accepted can never be ugly, or deviant.”

Zuko knows that the current way of living in the fire nation hasn’t always been the norm, but he has been taught that the way they are living now is better, for the people and for the nation, and he has lacked both the means and the courage to truly question it, even as he realized that he, himself, did not adhere to it (and how he has tried to make everything wrong and unacceptable and deviant about him go away, has tried to tear it from his own being by raw force, but it wouldn’t budge). But the way his uncle talks now, like it is the fire nation and his ancestors that are in the wrong. It shifts something within Zuko. The shift is slight, barely even enough to register, but it is also massive.

He draws in a breath, and it is shuddering, a pressure building behind his eyes without his permission. He extinguishes it with the ease of years of practice, but he also feels like his uncle would understand if he didn’t, if he just let it show. As it is, his uncle puts a hand on his shoulder and Zuko only tenses for a moment before accepting the touch.

”When given a choice,” his uncle says, ”between giving acceptance and giving rejection, you should always try to choose acceptance.”

Zuko nods, then inhales again, dropping into the stance of the next kata. He is not entirely sure, but he thinks the flame that shoots from his fist burn just a little bit brighter than it had before.

”You should meet gran-gran.”

Zuko looks up from the tiny chick in his hand at Katara. She’s taken him to the arctic hen enclosure today, to see the newly hatched chickens. Zuko had been reluctant, at first. He’s never really been much for animals, has never wanted a pet of his own, and the animals surrounding him as he grew up had been primarily working animals like komodo rhinos and hippo cows, or animals bred for food and clothing, like koala sheep. The turtle ducks in the royal garden had been a glaring exception, and they had disappeared when mother did.

He finds himself disarmed, however, by the tiny, squeaking balls of pure fluff gathering around his feet as they enter the enclosure, and he is guided by an instinct stronger than himself as he crouches down and holds out a hand towards the tiny baby birds. One of them jumps into his palm and starts picking around for food, its beak tickling Zuko’s skin. He lets out a small chuckle at the sensation.

He hears a quiet snort of laughter and looks up. Katara is looking at him, smiling, an expression in her eyes that Zuko doesn’t think he’s seen her wear before, and that he can’t really decipher.

”They’re cute,” he admits.

”I know right?” Katara says, crouching next to him and holding her hand out as well, a few of the chickens close to her scrambling to climb into her palm. ”They get hand fed to make them more tame,” she explains. ”They need to get used to being handled by humans from a young age.”

She doesn’t elaborate, but Zuko knows that the hens are kept for mostly two reasons: to provide eggs and to become food. It’s the way life is, but he still can’t help but feel a bit saddened by it. A voice at the back of his head tell him that it’s because he’s weak, that his sentimentality is embarrassing, and he clenches his jaw, running a finger across the back of the chick in his hand, trying to ignore his own thoughts.

Katara shows him how to feed both the chicks and the grown up hens, but they find themselves back in the chicks enclosure afterwards, allowing the small birds to climb all over them. Zuko has not only a chick in his hand, but two on his shoulder and one in his hair as Katara makes the announcement of him meeting her grandmother.

He looks at her, not really knowing what brought this on, but she looks determined.

”I, uh, I’ve actually met your grandmother already,” he says.

Katara looks confused for a while, but then seems to catch up.

”Oh, yeah,” she says. ”She told me about it. But that was when you had just arrived. We didn’t even know you were staying by then. And gran-gran is one of my favorite people in the world. I want you to meet her for real.”

Zuko is not sure he understands why it’s so important to Katara, but the fact that it is is kind of enough for him to relent.

”Okay,” he says, gently setting the chicks still climbing all over him down on the ground before standing up.

Katara looks at him, a trace of that same expression from earlier still present in her eyes as she does, but Zuko still can’t really place it. She reaches an arm out, and Zuko takes half a step back on instinct, but she only brushes it gently across his shoulder.

”There was a feather,” she says, and she’s still smiling and maybe blushing slightly and Zuko suddenly feels uncomfortable.

Zuko hasn’t been in love before, has never been close enough to anybody for those feelings to develop, but he has felt drawn to people. He could never act on those feelings, of course, but he knows it involves a lot of blushing and smiling for no reason, and suddenly he’s scared that the emotion in Katara’s eyes he can’t exactly place is that same feeling, and that he himself has led her on in some way. He takes another half step back and clears his throat.

”Shall we leave?” he asks, and then cringes because it sounds way too formal for someone talking to a friend (and Katara is a friend, right? He doesn’t really know how these things usually go, but he feels like she’s a friend). It seems to shake Katara out of whatever stupor she’s in, though.

”Yeah,” she says. ”Right this way!”

Kanna smiles warmly at them as they enter her tent, and Zuko feels like he doesn’t really deserve that.

”Hello,” she says. ”What a pleasant surprise.”

She’s sitting crosslegged on a piece of fur on the floor, which Zuko thinks is a feat for someone her age, a small heap of fabric in front of her. Katara sits down next to her and reaches forward to place a light kiss on Kanna’s cheek.

”What are you doing?” she asks.

”Oh, just mending some of your and your brother’s clothes,” she says. ”Spirits know what you do to get them so torn up.”

”Do you need help?” Katara asks.

”Always,” Kanna replies, handing Katara a piece of clothing and pushing a small bowl containing needles and threads in various colors towards her.

Zuko remains standing, not entirely sure what to do. Katara had said she wanted him to meet her grandmother, but now that they’re here Zuko feels like he is encroaching upon something he shouldn’t. The ease with which Kanna and Katara just exist in each other’s presence is so intensely familial that it makes Zuko’s stomach lurch with jealousy.

Kanna looks at where he’s still hovering by the tents opening.

”Why don’t you sit down, prince Zuko?” she asks.

He does as he’s told, sitting down on a pelt to Kanna’s right, gaze dropping to her fingers, tan and wrinkled, but working the needle through the fabric with the speed and dexterity of a chore done a thousand times.

”We haven’t really had the time to speak since that first night, prince Zuko,” she says. ”Tell me, how are you settling in?”

He looks up and meets her intense, blue gaze (chief Hakoda’s family have some of the bluest eyes Zuko has ever seen).

”Fine, thank you,” he answers. ”Everyone has been very accommodating.”

It’s a diplomatic answer, and a cowardly one at that. But he still has no idea how to actually verbalize the confused jumble of emotions swirling inside him at all times. He’s grateful, well and truly, for being able to stay here, away from his father’s reach, where he’ll hopefully will be kept safe. But it still hurts to the point where he feels like he can’t breathe every time he allows himself to think about the fact that the fire nation is lost to him, maybe forever, that this is supposed to be his home from now on.

”I’m glad to hear that,” Kanna says, and it feels like she can see right through him, so Zuko averts his eyes. ”I’m also glad that you and Katara have become such fast friends,” she continues, as if she can sense Zuko’s unease and wants to help him by changing the subject. ”Tui knows that both her and Sokka need more children their own age around here.”

Zuko swallows the protest that he is not a child.

”Sokka and Zuko aren’t really friends, though,” Katara says, not looking up from where she’s focused on treading the needle carefully through the fabric of a bright blue shirt. ”Because Sokka is stupid.”

”You shouldn’t call your brother stupid, Katara,” Kanna scolds. ”But Sokka can be a bit stubborn,” she sighs. ”He gets it from his father.”

Zuko never knew that something that was essentially an insult could be said with such fondness.

”I hope you don’t take Sokka’s hostility personally,” Kanna continues. ”He’ll come around, eventually.”

Zuko severely doubts that, but he’s not about to argue his point. He also doesn’t particularly care what Sokka thinks.

”It’s fine,” he says instead, then: ”Can I help with that?”

He indicates the still rather substantial pile of garments on the floor. Katara and Kanna both look at him in surprise.

”Can you sew?” Katara asks him.

Zuko pulls a face.

”Not really,” he admits. ”But I’d be willing to learn.”

Kanna hums.

”Sewing is usually considered women’s work here,” she explains.

Zuko can feel himself blush.

”Oh,” he says. ”Sorry, I…”

”But that’s just silly traditions,” Kanna interrupts, as if she once again can sense that Zuko is uncomfortable and wants to smooth things over. ”It could do a man good, to know how to mend his own trousers, from time to time. Do you want me to teach you?”

Zuko really doesn’t know what the right answer is, here. He fears that he would be somehow disrespecting their traditions if he were to say yes, but on the other hand he’s also scared that he will show disrespect to Kanna if he says no. In the end, she makes the decision for him by picking up a needle and a black roll of thread and handing it to Zuko.

”First,” she tells him, ”You need to thread the needle…”

Fifteen minutes later Zuko’s brows are furrowed in deep concentration as he punches the needle through the thick, coarse fabric of a pair of pants with a burst seam. His threadwork is wobbly and clearly subpar, but Kanna and Katara keep encouraging him.

”Katara usually joins me to learn these skills, seeing how her mother is not around to teach them to her,” Kanna tells him when there’s a lull in the conversation.

Zuko chances a glance at Katara, who looks somber at her grandmother’s admission.

”What happened…” he starts, but he’s unsure how to finish, unsure if he should be asking this question at all.

”She was killed in a fire nation raid,” Katara tells him, voice quiet, and Zuko’s stomach sinks.

He had suspected, of course. But it still does something to him, hearing it out loud. He wants to ask why, wants to ask if she died in battle, but he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

”I’m sorry,” he says instead.

Katara offers him a tight lipped smile. Zuko wants to ask her how she doesn’t hate him. He doesn’t know how long ago Katara’s mother had been killed, but it is very likely that it was Zuko’s own father who had ordered the attack. Why didn’t she shun him, berate him, make him pay for what his nation, his family, has done to her and to this village? How can she sit across from him and act like a friend to him knowing what he is?

He doesn’t voice any of this, doesn’t know how and regardless, it’s his guilt to bear, not hers to absolve him from.

”My mother is gone, too,” he tells her instead.

Both Katara’s and Kanna’s gazes turn sad as they look at him, and he looks down at his sewing.

”The loss of a mother is an especially heavy loss,” Kanna says. ”Especially if she is gone before her time. I’m sorry you both had to go through that.”

A lump forms in Zuko’s throat at her words, but he swallows it down. Few people have ever acknowledged his loss. When she disappeared, no one really spoke of it at all, and Zuko had been left alone with his grief and his confusion. It had faded, with time, and he rarely allows himself to think about her now.

”It was a long time ago,” he says. ”I barely remember her,” he lies.

Kanna touches her fingers to the back of his hand, and he does his best not to flinch.

”That doesn’t always mean the grief is less,” she says.

They sit in silence for a while, a comfortable one although maybe a bit subdued, promptly broken when Katara realizes that Zuko has sewn both legs of the pants he’s mending together, throwing her head back in gleeful laughter.

Chapter Text

”Dad?”

Hakoda is pulled from heavy sleep by the single syllable utterance that somehow encompasses his entire being. Bato’s arm slides off his chest as he sits up, and he blinks at the intrusion in confusion for a moment before realizing that he’s been roused from sleep by his teenaged son, standing in the doorway.

”Sokka?” he asks. ”What is it?”

His heart leaps into his throat, a conditioned response. Sokka doesn’t look scared, or like there is anything urgent going on, but when Hakoda looks closer at him he realizes there’s a small trickle of blood from his left nostril. Hakoda immediately gets out of bed, barely registering Bato’s muttered ”Koda?”. He’s by Sokka’s side in two long strides, taking his face in his hands and turning it over, gently, looking for other injuries.

”What happened?” he asks.

Automatically, almost subconsciously he’s sniffing the air for hints of fire, but he doesn’t smell anything other than the faint but familiar smell of ashes from the hearth. His heart still hammers wildly in his chest.

”I’m alright, dad,” Sokka says, voice stuck between sleepiness and annoyance. ”Katara’s having a nightmare. I tried to wake her, but she punched me in the nose. Hard.”

Hakoda releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

”I’ll go check on her,” Hakoda says. ”Don’t go to bed again without cleaning your nose, Sokka,” he calls to his son, who is already stumbling towards Hakoda’s abandoned spot in bed.

Bato sits up with a yawn.

”I’ll take care of it,” he mumbles, nudging Sokka who falls face first into bed without taking any notice of the adults in the room. ”Come on, kiddo, no blood on the nice furs.”

Hakoda doesn’t hear his son’s answer, already halfway to Sokka’s and Katara’s shared bedroom. His daughter is sitting upright in bed when he enters, breath coming out in short, panicked pants, eyes wide with fear and glazed over with tears ready to fall. She’s awake, at least. Hakoda sits down on the edge of her bed, and she more or less throws herself at him, winding her arms tight enough around his neck that she almost chokes him, but he doesn’t care. He puts his own arms around her and draws her close, letting her sob into his night shirt.

He doesn’t ask what her dream was about, he doesn’t have to. Katara’s nightmares are only ever about one thing: her mother. Hakoda have them too, sometimes, the dreams where he is running into their tent only to realize that he is too late, that there is blood everywhere, so much that it is lapping at his knees, rising fast, threatening to drown him.

In reality, there had been no blood. Just Kya, on the floor, her tunic burnt, the skin of her chest exposed and charred. He doesn’t have any real memories of what happened next. His mother has told him some of it, but she didn’t arrive until later. For a while there had only been him, his dead wife and his daughter. He wishes he could say that he had told Katara to leave, that he’d had enough presence of mind to not allow her to enter the tent, but when Kanna had gotten there, drawn in by Hakoda’s wails of grief, Katara had been there, too, standing still in the tent’s opening, eyes wide and scared, staring at Hakoda as he cradled her dead mother in his arms and wailed in wordless pain. There is nothing in the world that pains him more than having subjected his daughter to that.

His own memories of what happened only resumes as Bato and Gilak had forcefully removed him from the tent, from Kya, and he was struck by the fact that she was lost to him forever.

He holds Katara even closer, as her sobs subdue somewhat.

”Dad,” she breathes into his chest.

”It’s alright, sweetheart,” he says. ”I’m here. It was just a dream.”

Except it wasn’t, isn’t, it’s reality, and his children no longer have their mother.

He stays with Katara until she falls asleep again. In situation like these her and Sokka are similar, never wanting to talk about the things that hurt. Katara sometimes will seek him out later, when the pain has dulled, to talk about it, gain his perspective and allow herself to be comforted. She rarely does after a nightmare, though. Hakoda supposes that there isn’t much to say.

He leaves her bedroom only when he’s sure that she’s deep into sleep. Bato is waiting for him in the main room, like he usually does on a night like this. He’s lit a fire in the hearth and is sipping mug of what Hakoda suspects is one of Iroh’s teas. Bato had been delighted when he realized that the general had brought enough tea to sustain a small battalion with him to the South Pole, and Iroh seems equally as delighted to get to share his passion with someone who appreciates it. Hakoda has been stark in his defense of their traditional pine needle tea, but he secretly enjoys the fragrant and flowery variants that Iroh has them try.

He sits down next to Bato, who hands Hakoda a mug of his own.

”It’s jasmine,” he says.

Hakoda huffs.

”To think your allegiance could be bought by dried leaves in hot water,” Hakoda says, but accepts the mug none the less.

Bato shrugs.

”I’m a simple man with simple needs,” he says, which is just ridiculous.

”Is Sokka asleep?” he asks.

Bato nods.

”Out like a candle the minute he lay down,” he says. ”I had to wipe the blood off his nose for him like he’s four rather than fourteen.”

Hakoda smiles to himself.

”How’s Katara?” Bato asks.

The smile slips from Hakoda’s face.

”Asleep, at last,” he says, and drags a hand across his face, sagging against Bato who drapes his arm around him easily, letting it come to rest at his waist.

They sit in silence, for a while. Hakoda feels heavy, like gravity is pulling particularly hard on his limbs whenever he finds himself like this, reminded of Kya’s death rather than her life.

”I miss her,” he says, and there is gravel in his voice as he speaks.

Bato presses a kiss to his hair.

”I know,” he says.

When Kya had died, Hakoda himself had disappeared, for a while. Not physically, he had still been there, going through the motions of his days, but he had been hollowed out and empty. His children had noticed, because how could they not? It had scared them, and for a while Kanna had taken over as their parent, provided for them what Hakoda couldn’t. It’s a great shame for him, that he hadn’t been able to be there for his children when they most needed him, too engrossed in his own grief to be able to bear someone else’s.

After the funeral, Kanna had decided that the children should live with her for a while, and Hakoda had just let her take them. He had collapsed, then, not leaving the tent for a week, barely eating, not really sleeping, grief engulfing his entire being. Bato had come to him, then. Hakoda had expected him to try to console him, to use gentleness to try to coax him out of the dark cave he had found himself in, like everyone else had. But Bato had been stern. He had reminded Hakoda of his duties toward his village and toward his children, had told him that it was alright to grieve but that it wasn’t alright to abandon those who needed him.

Hakoda had been angry, at first, had screamed at Bato that he didn’t understand, could never understand, he had been unkind, had tried to hurt Bato to make him back off, leave Hakoda alone. But Bato hadn’t. He had stood his ground and he had forced Hakoda to rejoin the outside world again, never relenting but also never leaving his side. When Hakoda looks back at it now, he supposes that is where they lay the groundwork for what they later became.

”I wish…” Hakoda starts, but doesn’t know how to finish.

He wishes Kya was alive. He wishes his children had their mother. He wishes the fire nation had never come to their village. He wishes he could have protected her.

”I know,” Bato says, again. He doesn’t, of course. He had loved Kya, too, but not as Hakoda had. He had lost a dear friend, not a wife, not the mother of his children, not the love of his life. But they had talked about it often enough that Hakoda knows that Bato understands better than anyone else.

He wonders sometimes how Bato must feel, living under the shadow of Kya. He has assured Hakoda, many times, that he doesn’t mind, that it is the way it is and that he would never try to claim the spot Kya holds in Hakoda’s mind and heart. But Hakoda supposes it must be difficult sometimes. Bato is not someone Hakoda settled for, is not a consolation prize or the second best in any way. Hakoda loves him strongly and fiercely, and the love he feels for him is its own thing, not just Hakoda shifting what he felt for Kya onto Bato instead (he could never do that). But if Hakoda would have to choose between having Bato in his life or having Kya back, he knows what he would choose. Bato knows, too, he supposes.

Still, he is so grateful to Bato. He doesn’t know what he would have done without his steady presence by his side. Realizing he loved him not only like a friend had been a slow and awkward process. Hakoda had never really considered that he might be attracted to men as well as women, although, in hindsight there had been signs of it even before. But, as it was, Hakoda had to connect the dots all by himself, and it had taken him good while to do so. Bato had been nothing but patient throughout all of it, realizing where they were heading way before Hakoda did.

So, when Hakoda had finally confessed his feelings in a stumbling speech more befitting of a teenager with a crush than a chief, Bato had rolled his eyes, huffing out a ”finally” before kissing Hakoda senseless. And that had been it, really. They had told Hakoda’s children not long after, and the rest of the village had caught on soon enough.

Bato shifts under Hakoda’s weight, and Hakoda leans back to look at him.

”I love you,” he says, because he feels like he doesn’t say it often enough.

Bato offers him a small smile.

”I love you too, you sap,” he says, leaning in for a brief kiss. ”You should get back to bed, get some hours of sleep before Noriko gets here.”

Hakoda sighs heavily.

”I don’t understand how there can still be more things to learn about fire nation weddings,” he says. ”It’s a miracle anyone in the fire nation decides to get married at all.”

”I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bato quips. ”Surely it is impossible to get married without first combing the bride’s hair with seven different combs? How else will you assure your children are strong and healthy?”

Hakoda nudges him with his shoulder.

”You seem to have learned quite a bit about the traditions from just sitting nearby playing pai sho with the general,” Hakoda says. ”Maybe you should marry the fire prince instead of me?”

Bato pulls a face.

”Sorry, love,” he says. ”Wouldn’t want to deny you the pleasure of serving the Dragon of the West tea under the watchful eyes of fire nation royalty and Noriko.”

”Oh spirits,” Hakoda groans. ”This is still such a mess. I’m trying to do everything I can to ensure that prince Zuko knows that this won’t be real, while at the same time trying to convince a fire nation spy that it is absolutely real. It would be better if I could just talk to the prince alone sometime, but Noriko won’t leave us alone for three seconds.”

”Well, a lot of unsavory things can happen in three seconds,” Bato smiles, wiggling his eyebrows.

Hakoda groans again.

”You are the worst, and very much not helping,” he says.

Bato pulls him in for another quick kiss.

”You’re doing fine, Koda,” he says, getting to his feet and pulling Hakoda with him. ”Now go get some rest, they’ll be here soon.”

He starts pushing Hakoda towards the bedroom.

”Aren’t you coming?” Hakoda says. Bato shakes his head.

”Fishing day,” he says. ”We’ll be heading out soon enough.”

He turns Hakoda around by his shoulders, giving him a final kiss goodbye, lingering slightly this time, before reaching behind Hakoda to open the bedroom door. Hakoda goes easily this time when Bato gently shoves him towards the bed. He leaves again, leaving Hakoda to stare down at where his son is sprawled out across the bed, his scrawny but long limbed body somehow covering most of it. Hakoda sighs, snatching a blanket and a pillow from the bed as he tries to make himself comfortable on the floor.

”Good news!” Noriko exclaims.

Hakoda levels a look on her. They’re seated at their usual places at the table, him and the prince next to each other, Noriko across the table from them. He’d not managed to get anymore sleep, and his back was aching from lying on the floor. He is really not in the mood for Noriko’s cheerfulness, nor her lectures.

”What?” he asks, voice toneless, then wincing as he feels bad for being grumpy. It wasn’t Noriko’s fault that he hadn’t slept, nor was it her fault that the fire lord had decided that Hakoda should marry his fifteen year old son. ”Sorry,” he mutters. ”I didn’t sleep much last night.”

He can see the young prince cutting him a glance out of the corner of his eye, but he has given up getting anymore than a few wayward words out of him in way of interaction. Prince Zuko is obviously uncomfortable with this entire set up, and Hakoda isn’t about to make it more uncomfortable by forcing him to make small talk.

”No worries,” Noriko smiles. ”there is nothing wrong with feeling nervous and having trouble sleeping before one is to be wed.”

Hakoda stiffens.

”No,” he says. ”That isn’t what…” he sighs. ”You know what, never mind.”

Noriko’s smile doesn’t waver, and she claps her hands together in delight.

”Well, as I said, I have some good news.”

She looks at them both expectantly, and Hakoda isn’t entirely sure how he’s supposed to react. Prince Zuko, for once, decides to speak up.

”What is it?” he says, and there is annoyance and a bit of petulance in his voice that reminds Hakoda that the prince is very much still just a teenager.

”We have completed the theoretical part of your training,” she says. ”And I thought, rather than jumping straight into practicing the various rituals, I would allow you two the day off to get acquainted with each other. Under my watchful eye, of course. No alone time until the wedding night.”

Her eyes twinkle as she says it, and she wags her finger at them both in mock chastising. Hakoda feels slightly queasy at the implications, and prince Zuko sits up a bit straighter at his side. Then he thinks back to the first part of what Noriko had said.

”What do you mean, ’practicing the rituals’?”

Her smile turns into something you might offer a small child. Hakoda is intrigued that a person’s smile can be that expressive. There is no doubt in his mind that Noriko could even project anger through her smile, has even seen hints of it when she chastises him for not listening from time to time.

”Yes, I have only explained the ceremony so far,” she says. ”You will have to practice to make sure you get the rituals exactly right for the actual wedding. It would do you no good to serve the prince’s uncle his tea from the left when the day comes, now, will it?”

She laughs as if she’s told them both a joke, and Hakoda laughs along, mostly out of confusion and a bit out of despair.

Noriko’s idea of him and prince Zuko ”getting acquainted” is taking a stroll together through the village, which means that Hakoda is currently walking next to a supremely uncomfortable looking prince, trying to make stilted conversation with him while Noriko walks two steps behind them, overseeing their every move and making the situation even more awkward. General Iroh had joined them, at first, making all of it a bit more bearable, seeing how he was able to coax more than single-syllable answers out of the prince, but he had excused himself as soon as they reached the market place.

Granted, the market place was teeming with life today, seeing how it was that one time a month where merchants from the other nations would sail in on merchant ships to set up stalls, meaning that there were things other than just fish and hand woven baskets being offered on sale. He’s still unaccustomed to the sight of people in earth kingdom greens and even some in fire nation reds weaving through the stands, but it’s a sight that fills him with warmth. It’s still not a large market, by any means, but each month more and more ships seem to find their ways to their shores.

He realizes that he’s attracting some curious glance from the crowd, both from his own villagers as well as some of the fire nation merchants, and it hits him that this is the first time he’s been out in public with the prince since he arrived. The sight of the prince tagging along with Katara on her quests to show him everything there is to see in the wolf cove and beyond is becoming a usual occurrence, Hakoda has been told, but he, himself, has not had an outing with the boy who, in the eyes of everyone else, is his betrothed. Until now.

Most of the glances sent their way are curious, but some from his own people are disapproving, They make Hakoda feel uncomfortable, although they are to be expected. He can see a fire nation merchant nudging another fire nation citizen with his elbow, indicating the prince with a nod of his head, and a snicker. Hakoda glances over at the prince, who has his gaze glued to the ground, his cheeks burning red.

Hakoda reaches out to touch the prince’s elbow lightly, but Zuko still flinches. The prince does not like being touched, Hakoda has gathered, and he can guess to why. It saddens him, that the boy has come to associate physical touch with violence rather than affection, but there is not really anything he can do to change that.

”This crowd is getting a bit much,” he says, careful to keep his tone light. ”Perhaps we should go somewhere quieter.”

Prince Zuko keeps his gaze on the ground, but he offers a nod. Hakoda starts to lead them away from the market place. He casts his eyes around for Noriko, and finds her engrossed in conversation with the village healer, her smile wide as she laughs at something Maliq has said. Hakoda knows he will get scolded for it later, but he decides to lead prince Zuko away form the crowds without her in tow. The looks from the villagers and the merchants feel heavy on his back as they retreat.

”It must be weird, seeing people from back home here,” Hakoda says as they’ve moved far enough from gossip-hungry ears.

Zuko shrugs.

”I guess,” he says.

Hakoda fights down a sigh. Sometimes he feels like it’s all he does in the presence of the young prince, and it hardly seems fair. It’s not really the prince’s fault that he has been thrust into this situation, and he really has no obligation to make small talk with Hakoda just to make him feel more at ease.

”Does your people know that you have been sent here?” Hakoda asks.

Zuko averts his gaze, and a muscle in his jaw ticks.

”Yes,” he says. ”My father made sure that everyone was privy to my humiliation.”

Prince Zuko seems to realize what he has said, and he turns towards Hakoda, eyes wide.

”I mean, not that it’s anything wrong with… I mean, you seem like a perfectly nice man, and I’m sure someone would be happy to marry you, it’s just that…”

Hakoda can’t help but laugh at the prince’s panicked ramblings. Zuko blushes and once again turns his gaze away.

”It’s fine,” Hakoda says. ”I’m not under the illusion that a teenage boy would be thrilled to be sent here to marry me, no mater how nice I might be.”

Zuko shrugs again, but some of the tension seems to seep out of his shoulders.

”I have been wondering about the fire lord’s decision to send you here, though” he continues, careful to keep his voice light, trying to set the prince at ease. ”I was under the impression that same sex marriage was not allowed in the fire nation.”

The prince sends a careful glance around before he answers, and Hakoda isn’t sure if he’s looking around for Noriko, other fire nation citizens or just people in general. There is no one around though, and Zuko’s eyes level at the ground again.

”It was never outlawed, outright. But it isn’t allowed, either. No fire sage will perform a marriage ceremony between people of the same gender, and just relations between two men, or two women, are looked down upon.”

Hakoda frowns. He knew that, of course, but it still both saddens and angers him to hear it. And it makes him even more confused.

”Then why…” he starts, but he doesn’t gets to finish, the prince answers before his question is fully formed.

”Because my father enjoys disgracing me,” he replies, and there is an edge to his voice.

It disappears a moment later, as he cuts a fearful glance at Hakoda.

”I mean…” he says. ”I shouldn’t have said that, I spoke out of term,” he says, and his shoulders are tense again, hunched up almost to his ears.

Hakoda hadn’t realized that his heart could break so many times for a child that wasn’t his own, but the fire prince has proven him wrong in that. He had suspected that it had been motives other than furthering the relations between their respective nations behind the fire lord sending his son to him, but he would never have guessed that it would be so that he could belittle him.

”You didn’t speak out of term,” Hakoda says. ”No father should treat their own son like that.”

Zuko stares stubbornly ahead.

”My father believes I need to be humbled,” he finally says.

”Well,” Hakoda says. ”I think your father is wrong. You’re already humble. I think you need to find your own way in life.”

Zuko looks at him again, at that, and this time his gaze doesn’t skitter away the moment Hakoda meets it.

”Uncle says the same thing,” he tells Hakoda.

Hakoda smiles.

”Well,” he starts, but he’s interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

”Prince Zuko!” Noriko says, a breathless edge to her voice from running. ”Are you alright?”

Prince Zuko’s brows furrow in confusion and Hakoda is right there with him, until realization dawns upon him. Maybe Noriko hasn’t insisted on chaperoning the prince and Hakoda solely out of tradition. Maybe she is also trying to protect the young prince from the man that she believes willingly accepted his hand in marriage even after he found out that the prince is a boy of fifteen. He does realize what this makes him in Noriko’s mind, and that makes him uncomfortable, but more than that he is happy that she is trying to look out for the prince. Spirits know that prince Zuko needs more people who care for him in his life. General Iroh had said that he saw good in Noriko, and now, maybe Hakoda can see it as well.

He offers the handmaiden a small bow.

”I’m sorry, Noriko,” he says. ”I didn’t mean to worry you. I was simply accompanying prince Zuko back to his cabin.”

Noriko narrows his eyes at him in suspicion, but she seems placated by the distance between them and the fact that Zuko is still looking at her with obvious confusion.

”Very well,” she says, straightening up and plucking a few stray hairs from her face with delicate fingers. ”But don’t do it again.”

He smiles at her.

”Of course.”

Peaceful quiet is spread through the cabin, which is not as an unusual occurrence as one would believe. Hakoda’s kids might be teenagers but they are capable of staying quiet for prolonged periods of time, on occasion. Not many occasions, but still. His children aren’t here right now though, but general Iroh, Noriko and Zuko are, which makes the peacefulness all the more surprising. Not that it’s not usually quiet when they are here, but it’s a tense and awkward kind of silence, and the prince often flees the cabin as if he had an owl wolf on his tail the second Noriko ends her lesson for the day (today they had practiced an intricate tea ceremony that had Hakoda questioning his own mental abilities since he can not seem to get it right for the life of him), his entourage often following him as he does, except for Iroh who might stay for a while to finish up a game of pai sho with Bato.

This time, however, the prince had lingered, sitting down next to his uncle to inspect the pai sho game he and Bato were playing, joining in when Iroh inevitably beat Bato, which surprised Hakoda. He had listened to Iroh trying to get his nephew to play a game with him on several occasions prior, the prince always declining in often less than polite ways (it felt good to know that he was not the only person who had teenagers who believed spending time with anyone above the age of 30 a punishment worse than death).

Noriko remains standing, busying herself with rolling up her scrolls and packing up the tea set they had used in their practice of their ceremony for longer than strictly necessary until Hakoda decides to take pity on her when it’s obvious that she isn’t going to join them on her own initiative.

”Noriko, why don’t you join me for a cup of tea?”

Noriko looks startled as she looks over at Hakoda. He offers her a smile that he hopes is welcoming and pats the pelt next to him by the fire. She hesitates for a moment and then just seems to give up, shooting an anxious glance in the direction if Iroh and prince Zuko, but they pay her no mind. She sits down primly beside Hakoda, gracefully accepting the cup of tea he offers her as she does.

”So, Noriko,” Hakoda starts, when it’s obvious that she won’t initiate this particular conversation. ”Do you have any family back home?”

Noriko sips her tea and looks over at him.

”Yes,” she says. ”I have my parents and four older brothers. They all live in small village two days travel from the fire nation capital, though, so I don’t really see them that often. And even less now, I suppose.”

He wants to ask her how she feels about that, and how it had felt coming here, but he has a sneaking suspicion she won’t answer those questions. At least not as long as the prince and the general are still in the room, and probably not if they left either.

”What made you leave for the capital?” he asks instead, hoping that that is a less intrusive question.

Noriko plucks an invisible speck of dust from her dress. Despite the weather and the fact that the southern water tribe is a place where comfort always beats out fashion, Noriko is always impeccably dressed in long, flowing dresses of red and brown, hair worn neatly in a top knot on her head, lips often painted red. It seems impractical, to Hakoda, the dresses seem to restrict movement and they’re hardly warm enough for the climate, but Noriko, being a royal handmaiden, has maybe not that much need for range of motion and barely seems to leave the cabin except to accompany prince Zuko or buy groceries to make dinner.

”I left to find work,” she says. ”My family was… not rich, so I had to find work as early as possible. I’ve worked for the royal family since I was fifteen.”

Did you get to choose whether or not you would join the prince to come here, Hakoda wants to ask but doesn’t. He also doesn’t ask if she enjoys it, there is no way her answer can be anything other than an enthusiastic yes, seeing how her employers are only a few feet away. Hakoda briefly looks over to where Zuko and Iroh are seated, and, to his surprise, finds the prince already looking their way, gaze quickly scurrying away when it meets Hakoda’s. Hakoda is getting used to it by now.

”Do you have a family of your own?” he asks. ”Spouse, kids?”

He keeps the term gender neutral, hellbent on not letting the fire nation customs creep into his way of speaking, even though there are three fire nation citizens listening in.

Noriko shakes her head.

”Working for the royal family is a full time job,” she explains. ”I simply couldn’t find the time.” She seems to catch herself, quickly looking over to general Iroh and prince Zuko, but they still pay her no mind, though Hakoda can tell Zuko is listening by his posture. Iroh probably is too, he’s just better at stealth than the prince.

”There is still time,” Hakoda says, stretching his legs out in front of him with a groan that is entirely not befitting for a man his age. He’s not even forty for spirits’ sakes.

Noriko lets out a small laugh.

”I’m twenty-nine,” she tells him. ”I’m hardly young anymore.”

”Sure you are,” he tells her. ”My mother was just a year younger than you when she had me.”

She sips her tea again, offering him a small smile.

”You’re kind, chief Hakoda,” she says. ”And maybe it will happen. I am not unhappy with my life though. I have a comfortable job and I am not lacking anything.”

Hakoda wonders if that’s true, but he doesn’t push it.

He hears the door to the cabin open and his two children come thundering in.

”Hi dad, hi Bato!” Katara greets with a smile, stopping when she notices that hey have company. ”Zuko!” she exclaims happily. ”You’re here.”

Hakoda looks over at the prince, surprised to find him offering his daughter a friendly smile that Hakoda has never seen him wear before.

”What are they doing here?”

Sokka has paused on his way into the cabin, eyeing the fire nation part of its inhabitants with suspicion.

”Sokka,” Hakoda warns. ”Manners.”

Sokka just sighs and roll his eyes.

”Whatever,” he says. ”Do we have any food?”

Bato tosses him a bag of dried seaweed before Sokka has even finished the sentence, used to Sokka’s near constant hunger by now. Sokka opens the bag and sits down by the fire, as far away from Noriko as he can, which has Hakoda fighting an urge to roll his own eyes at his son’s behavior.

”Come on, Zuko,” he hears Katara’s eager voice say behind him, and turns back towards her. She has grabbed hold of prince Zuko’s sleeve and is tugging him to his feet. Hakoda almost tells her not to bother the prince, but then he realizes that Zuko is still smiling and his protests die on his tongue. The prince willingly lets Hakoda’s daughter drag him away from his uncle, and that’s… huh.

”Where are you going?” Hakoda asks his daughter.

Katara turns towards him.

”I told you yesterday, dad,” she says. ”Siku promised he’d take us polar dog sledding, since Zuko has never tried it.”

He looks between his daughter and the fire nation prince, her hand still clutching the sleeve of Zuko’s robe. Zuko seems to realize, and gently withdraws his hand from Katara’s grasp, folding his arms across his middle instead, looking… apologetic? Hakoda suddenly feels bad.

”Of course we don’t have to go if, uh, if you don’t approve, chief Hakoda,” the prince says, voice low.

Katara furrows her brows at Zuko’s words. She looks at Zuko, and then at Hakoda.

”That’s stupid,” she says. ”Why wouldn’t you approve? I’ve been polar dog sledding with Siku a million times, he knows what he’s doing.”

Every single person in the cabin is now looking at Hakoda, save for prince Zuko who, probably out of habit by now, looks at the floor. Hakoda is suddenly sweating.

”No, of course it’s fine,” he says in a rush. ”You two have fun.”

”Yeah, have fun with prince jerk bender,” Sokka mutters next to him, and Hakoda is relieved to have something to focus on other than his daughters apparent enthusiasm at spending time with the fire nation prince.

”Sokka!” he scolds. ”That’s not nice. I’ve taught you better than that. Apologize to prince Zuko.”

Sokka looks at him like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, but Hakoda doesn’t budge.

”It’s alright,” Zuko says. ”I’ve been called worse.” Hakoda turns his gaze to Zuko, who seems to have realize what he’s said. ”Not by Sokka!” he adds. ”by…other people.”

”That hardly makes it alright,” Hakoda says. ”Sokka,” he says again, and the tone of his voice seems to make Sokka realize that his dad is serious about this.

”Sorry,” he mutters in the prince’s general direction. Zuko’s cheeks tint pink, and he shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.

”It’s alright,” he almost whispers.

Katara huffs next to him.

”Can we go now?” she directs at Hakoda, and Hakoda is suddenly very, very tired.

”Yeah, sure,” he says. ”Be back by dinner, though!” he calls after the two teenagers as they head for the door. Katara just waves dismissively.

The door banging closed behind them makes Hakoda jump, even though he expects it. It’s silent for a bit, save for Sokka’s munching on the dried seaweed, and Bato catches Hakoda’s gaze from where he is standing across the fire, sleeves rolled up as he readies himself to start with dinner. Hakoda just shrugs.

What Katara feels or doesn’t feel for the fire nation prince is really none of Hakoda’s business. But his kids are the only two teenagers in the entire village, everyone else either already a legal adult by some years, or small children. As such, he’s never had to consider them having crushes or boyfriends or girlfriends or any of the thing that is normal for their age. Sure, he might have seen them react sometime when they spot a cute kid their own age here visiting from their sister tribes, or a young merchant manning a stall during market days, but it’s been to the point where Hakoda has only considered it a bit cute and maybe teased them good-naturedly about it afterwards. But Zuko is a teenager, here to stay, and Hakoda supposes he is someone that might catch the eye of a girl Katara’s age, with his delicate features and that jet black hair always tied back in a top knot.

And it’s fine. It really is. Hakoda has nothing against his kids having crushes or even dating someone on a theoretical level, but…

”What if she has a crush on the fire nation prince,” he frets to Bato in private later that night.

Katara had gotten back in time for dinner, as she promised, having said goodbye to the prince before she got home. Hakoda had watched her closely for… he doesn’t know what, exactly. Signs of infatuation? But she had been her normal, cheery self, telling them about how Siku had let her steer the polar dog team and how awesome it had been.

”Then she has a crush on the fire nation prince,” Bato says as he sits down on Hakoda’s bed. ”She’s thirteen. It’s what happens at thirteen.”

Hakoda pauses untying his tunic to look at Bato.

”Yeah but usually the person you have a crush on isn’t going to marry your dad,” he says, and his voice has risen an octave by the sheer absurdity of it.

Bato sighs, reaching out to grasp the belt of Hakoda’s tunic, tugging him closer.

”I agree that complicates things a bit,” he says, removing Hakoda’s hands from his belt and setting to unclasp it himself.

”And, you know, he’s a fucking prince,” Hakoda says. ”From the fire nation.”

”Language, Koda,” Bato says with a smile, finally managing to undo Hakoda’s belt, moving the tunic aside to place a kiss on his s stomach. It’s gotten softer with age, but it’s still mostly flat and Bato’s lips against his skin, breath ghosting across the hairs leading from his navel down his pants, has him momentarily distracted. ”And you don’t even know that it’s a crush. It’s not like they’re getting married.”

Then Bato starts laughing. A loud, heartfelt and half-crazed laughter.

”Because he’s getting married to you,” Bato manages to squeeze out. ”Holy shit Hakoda, this situation really is all kinds of messed up.”

Hakoda slides his fingers into Bato’s hair, waiting for him to calm down a bit. His hair is graying in places, as is Hakoda’s own. He kind of likes it on Bato, it makes him look more distinguished. On himself, he thinks it mainly makes him look old.

Bato’s laughter finally dies down, and he leans his forehead on Hakoda’s bare chest.

”What I was trying to say,” he continues. ”Is that you need to stop always thinking ten catastrophic paces ahead. Katara might have a crush on prince Zuko, or she might not. Zuko might have a crush on Katara, or he might not. Either way, you’ve raised your daughter well enough that she won’t do anything stupid. So, maybe, just let her enjoy being a normal teenager?”

Bato presses another kiss to his stomach, and then another, and, okay, Hakoda is properly distracted now, especially as Bato’s lips reach the waistband of his pants. Hakoda tightens his grip on Bato’s hair by a fraction.

”Maybe you’re right,” he mumbles.

”I’m always right,” Bato says, and bites down lightly on Hakoda’s hip.

Then nothing more is said for quite some time, except for soft moans and whispered, one word encouragements. When Hakoda later falls asleep, his daughter’s potential feelings for the fire nation prince is the furthest from his mind.

Chapter Text

”We have company,” his uncle tells him in the middle of fire bending training.

Zuko falters in his movement, looking around. He sees someone over by the wall to the village, but they’re far enough out onto the tundra that he can’t make out who it is.

”You have stopped moving, nephew,” uncle remarks.

Zuko hesitates for a moment, before resuming his movements again, falling in sync with his uncle. He tries to make his movements as fluid as possible, each of them ending with fire erupting from his hands or feet. He glances over at the blue-and-white figure by the wall, and sees that they have moved closer. From this distance he can make out long, brown hair, tied back in a braid except for two strands of hair looping down below her ears. Katara.

Zuko has kind of been avoiding her since they went polar dog sledding. He saw the way the chief had looked at where Katara had been grasping his sleeve, and he knows what it must look like, Zuko spending most of his free time with a pretty girl close to his own age. And he doesn’t want the chief to think… whatever it is he’s thinking, and he doesn’t want Katara getting any ideas either, so he’s turned her down whenever she’s come looking for him these last couple of days.

She’s getting even closer now, and Zuko stops moving again. What Katara has told him about the fire nation raids, and about what happened to her mother, is enough that Zuko hesitates to use his bending in front of her. His uncle has stopped as well, offering Katara a smile.

”Good morning, Katara,” he tells. her. ”I didn’t know you would be up this early.”

Katara shrugs.

”I wanted to see you practice your bending,” she says.

”Why?” Zuko asks, and, as usual, he only realizes a beat too late that he might have come off as rude. ”I mean… I just thought…”

Katara twists her fingers into the fabric of her tunic. She looks nervous.

”Because I’m a bender,” she says finally.

It’s the last thing Zuko expects her to say. Katara is a bender?

”I’m the only one in my village, on the entire South Pole,” she tells them. ”Everyone else was captured or killed in the raids. I don’t have anyone here to teach me, so I don’t know much, but I thought maybe if I watched you…”

She trails off, still looking nervous. Zuko realizes that she probably isn’t supposed to tell them this. They’re still the enemy, despite everything, and the reason the thirteen year old girl standing before them is the only water bender left in the southern water tribe.

”It is true that benders have a lot to learn from the bending styles of elements other than their own,” uncle speaks up from behind Zuko. ”But I don’t know how much use it will be if you don’t know the basics of water bending yet. You’re welcome to watch, though, if you like.”

Zuko nods.

”Yeah, of course,” he says.

He feels like the least he could do. His nation, his father’s orders and his grandfather’s orders before him, are the reason there are no benders left for Katara to learn from. He takes his uncle’s lead in resuming his movements again. Katara watches, and it’s awkward, having an audience. Zuko becomes acutely aware of just how weak his fire bending is, and he makes more mistakes than usual.

He also can’t help but notice just how violent fire bending is. He kicks and punches his way through practice and his uncles notion that fire is life seems very far away. Katara doesn’t seem fazed, though, neither by Zuko’s mistakes nor the fire erupting in her direction on occasion. She watches with rapt attention, and Zuko can see her mimicking some of the movements on her own. It doesn’t seem to make anything happen, though, until she copies a flowing, soft motion not very typical for fire bending, and the sludgy snow beneath her suddenly moves with her.

Zuko stops what he’s doing, as does Katara, and she looks at him with a wide grin.

”Did you see that?” she asks him, voice eager.

Zuko can’t help but return her smile.

”Yeah, I saw,” he says. ”That’s great, Katara.”

And it really, really is. Zuko’s own bending, or lack thereof, had always been source of anxiety and feelings of inadequacy. He can’t remember ever feeling the pride that is now apparent on Katara’s face. She tries the move again, and once again the snow at her feet moves with it. It comes to a stop only a few feet from where she’s standing, but it moved, nonetheless.

His uncle hums.

”Fire is a most volatile element, and to wield it you need both power and control. Water is soothing and healing, and so the movements that control it are more fluid. I know some fire bending katas that might be suited for water bending, as well as a few movements I have studied from water bending scrolls in the royal library, although my knowledge is far inferior to that of even the most subpar of water benders,” he says. ”I would be happy to teach you, though, Katara, If you would like me to.”

Katara looks like uncle had just promised her the moon.

”Are you serious?” she says. ”Of course I would!”

Uncle brings his hands together in the form of the flame, and makes to bow, but Katara instead flings herself around his neck. Uncle looks surprised but ultimately pleased as he returns the hug.

For a moment it looks like she’s going to hug Zuko as well, and he steels himself for it, but then she seems to think better of it, just looking at him and blushing slightly.

”Oh,” she says. ”You can’t tell dad, though.”

Zuko stiffens at her words. Uncle furrows his eyebrows.

”Young Katara,” uncle says. ”We are here by your father’s hospitality, and he has sacrificed a lot to keep prince Zuko safe. I don’t think…”

”Alright, alright,” she relents. ”But, just please, let me tell him? I’m not supposed to tell anyone from outside the village that I’m a bender, so I’ll have to go about it in the right way for him to agree to it.”

Zuko still feels precarious about the whole business, but he tries to tell himself that chief Hakoda is nothing like his own father, that he will not react the same way his own father would at having his orders disobeyed. It does nothing to calm his uneasiness.

The small village has a bath house. It’s tiny and contains only two bathtubs, heated by firewood and separated by a curtain. It’s laughable, compared to the luxurious bathhouses in the royal palace, with their large, heated pools, bath oils and steam saunas. Zuko still thinks it feels like heaven to let his entire body be submerged in the warm water.

It’s only the second time Zuko is here. He is not too fond of communal baths, has never really felt at ease with being naked among strangers, plus he’s still wary of the inhabitants of the wolf cove, and they of him, so it’s well into the night now, the rest of the village asleep in their tents and cabins. He leans his head against the edge of the bath tub, watching steam rise from the water towards the ceiling.

He’s spent almost two weeks in the wolf cove of the southern water tribe by now. Two weeks is nothing, in the long run, not when he is expected to spend a life time here. But it feels like half an eternity. He wonders, for what must be the thousandth time, if he will ever return to the fire nation, to the capital, to the royal palace. Surely his father can’t deny him to visit, once he’s married to chief Hakoda? He will have fulfilled his duty then.

Sometimes he wonders what he misses about the place. His mother is gone. His uncle is here with him. He doesn’t have any friends, his father thinks him a failure, as does his sister, and they had both made it abundantly clear that they would not miss him. But it’s his home, the only one he’s ever had. He knows the ins and outs of the palace like the back of his own hand, despite its vastness. He knows what servant will give him an extra cake after dinner, who will allow him to stay in the library to read well after bedtime, who will let him sneak into the weaponry to practice with his swords.

He feels that familiar pressure build up behind his eyes, and dunks his head under water, staying there until his lungs are burning and the world turns blurry around the edges. Above him, he can suddenly make out the hazy outline of a face, and he breaks the surface again, drawing in deep, heaving breaths.

”Tui and La, I thought you had drowned! Oh, it’s you.”

Zuko blinks the water out of his eyes. Sokka is standing next to his tub, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Zuko fights an urge to cover up. He is wearing his small cloths, but he still feels entirely too exposed.

”You look like a drowned elephant rat with your hair down like that,” Sokka tells him, turning his back to him as he moves the curtain aside to get to the other tub.

Zuko blushes and gathers his hair in one hand to pull over his left shoulder. He can hear the rustle of Sokka getting undressed, and he keeps his gaze on his own hands. He’s been in the bath long enough that the skin on his fingers has begun to prune.

He hears the water of the tub next to him splash as Sokka gets in, then splash again, more violently, as he quickly gets out again.

”Tui’s saggy tits, that’s cold.”

Zuko fights down a giggle at Sokka’s curse. The curtain rustles again as Sokka pulls it to the side, looking annoyed, which is somewhat detracted from by the fact that he’s only wearing a small towel around his waist, not even properly tied there, just held loosely together by Sokka’s hand. Zuko quickly averts his eyes.

”Someone let the fucking fire go out,” Sokka mutters. ”Get out.”

Zuko feels a surge of annoyance.

”I was here first,” he says, which is a lame reply, but then again, Sokka is lame, so it’s just fitting.

”Yeah, well, I’m here now and the water of the other tub is freezing and you look thoroughly soaked so I say you’re done.”

”Well, I’m not,” Zuko persists.

Sokka’s hostility is getting old, and Zuko feels like it’s undeserved (okay not really, considering everything this village has suffered under the hands of the fire nation, but he’s in no mood to admit to that right now, and that wasn’t really Zuko’s fault).

”If you won’t get out then I’m getting in with you,” Sokka threatens.

Zuko looks up at him quickly, heart hammering in his chest all of a sudden.

”No you won’t,” he says, and he tries to make it sound like a warning but suspects it comes out more like a plea.

”No, I won’t,” Sokka admits. ”Because, ew. But come on, I really need a bath.”

Zuko’s eyes travel to Sokka’s arms, only to realize that they’re covered in blood. Sokka’s obviously tried to scrub most of it off, but there are red streaks still visible from the elbows down to the hands. It’s macabre.

”What happened?” Zuko asks.

Sokka’s eyes drop to his arms as well.

”Oh,” Sokka says. ”I helped the hunters with the slaughter earlier.”

Oh. That makes a lot more sense than Sokka committing mass murder. Zuko makes a face as he realizes there is even caked blood under Sokka’s finger nails.

”I’m sorry that it’s not to your highness’ liking,” Sokka says, noticing Zuko’s grimace. ”But some of us have to work for our upkeep, you know.”

Zuko looks at Sokka’s face, trying to convey his annoyance.

”That’s not…” he starts. ”Never mind,” he says. ”I can help you heat up your bath, if you want.”

Sokka’s annoyance drops off his face to give way to confusion.

”It’ll take, like, two hours to heat up by now. The fire’s entirely out,” he explains.

Zuko holds up his hands and wiggles his pruny fingers.

”Fire bender, remember?”

Sokka’s mouth drops open into an ”o”, but he also looks hesitant. He looks at Zuko in silence for a moment, until a shudder seems to overtake him, making goosebumps break out all over his skin. That seems to sway him.

”Fine,” he grumbles.

”Hand me my bathrobe,” Zuko asks, gesturing to a red and gold silk robe hanging off a nail on the wall. Sokka more or less rips it from the wall and thrusts it into Zuko’s waiting hand.

”Turn around,” Zuko instructs him.

”Seriously?” Sokka says, but does as he’s told. ”Who knew fire nation royalty were such prudes? I guess the rumors about all the orgies at the royal palace are not true, then.”

Zuko gets out of the bath and puts his arms through the sleeves of the robe, tying the rope around the waist securely in place.

”Sure they are,” Zuko replies. ”We just don’t invite water tribe peasants.”

Zuko enjoys the way Sokka sputters for a moment, gliding past him to submerge his hands in the water, hissing as he does. The water really is close to freezing. He takes a few deep breaths, focusing all warmth to his hands. Soon enough, steam is rising from the water up towards the ceiling. Zuko feels more than sees Sokka bend down next to him, dipping his fingers into the now hot water.

”Neat,” he says, and Zuko is taken aback by the compliment. ”I didn’t know you could do that.”

Zuko extracts his hands and turns towards the other boy.

”What did you think I was going to do?” he asks.

Sokka shrugs.

”I don’t know? Fire bend at the water?”

Zuko can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes his lips.

”What good would that do?”

Sokka just shrugs again.

”I don’t know how your stupid fire magic works,” he says, defensively.

”It’s not magic,” Zuko says.

Sokka waves his hand at him dismissively.

”Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now shoo. If you get to be a prude, then so do I.”

Zuko huffs, getting back to his side of the bath house while Sokka slides the curtain back into place.

”Like I’d want to see you naked anyway,” Zuko says to the drape.

He hears water splashing as Sokka gets into the bath again.

”Sure you would,” Sokka says. ”I look good naked.”

Zuko is grateful that Sokka can’t see him as he blushes scarlet. It’s a joke obviously meant to mock, but Zuko doesn’t think it’s liking boys that is supposed to be the butt of the joke. Sokka also says it with a flippant kind of confidence that Zuko wouldn’t expect from a teenage boy from a tiny village on the edge of the world.

Zuko takes off his bathrobe again, hanging it on the rusted nail before sliding back into his own tub. He really is done bathing, but it’s a matter of principle right now.

”Hey,” he hears Sokka say. ”Thanks, for you know, fire bending the water.”

Zuko blushes again .

”Whatever,” he mutters,

He makes sure to get out of the bath before Sokka does.

Katara yawns, big enough to make her eyes water, for the fourth or fifth time this afternoon. They’re out in Bato’s canoe on another fishing trip.

Canoes, Zuko has decided, are small, fickle means of transportation that constantly threatens to tip him into the icy water, but the water tribe siblings have always been at ease while paddling them out onto open water, gliding past icebergs like they weren’t giant blocks of death just waiting to crush them. Katara has told Zuko everything about dangerous undercurrents that could drag your boat out to sea, and of the creatures lurking below the surface, like dolphin piranhas, polar orcas and tiger sharks. Zuko feels a bit like letting your kids out on open water with only a few sticks held together by tiger seal skin separating them from impending doom maybe isn’t the best idea, but then again he seems to be the only one a bit apprehensive by the concept.

It’s only Zuko’s third time doing this. Practical, menial tasks like these were considered below members of the royal and noble families, who were supposed to further themselves in the art of war or academics. It’ nice, though. Cold, but calm. He has yet to catch any fish, but then again, Katara rarely does, either. Only her brother manages to impale a few fish on his fishing spear each time they went out. If Sokka wasn’t such a twat, Zuko might have been impressed.

Katara yawns again, leaning over the edge of the canoe to let her bare fingers glide across the surface of the water. Zuko doesn’t know if having a high tolerance for cold is a water bender thing or a southern water tribe thing. Maybe both.

”Are you tired?” he asks.

He’s still not very apt at this entire ”holding conversations with people your own age that aren’t also your servants” thing, but he’s trying. Katara still seems delighted any time he’s the one to start talking, rather than her. Sokka still rarely deign to address Zuko in anything, but he seems to act a bit less surly with him since their meeting in the bath house the other night, and he hasn’t called him jerk bender since he was told off by chief Hakoda.

Katara looks at him.

”I didn’t sleep well,” she says.

”Oh,” Zuko says. ”That’s…”

He lets the sentence fade to nothing, and he once again mentally berates himself for his social ineptitude. Katara looks hesitant, before speaking up again.

”I have nightmares, sometimes,” she says, looking down at the water. ”About my mother.”

Zuko sees Sokka shoot his sister a quick glance from where he’s perched at the helm of the canoe (if canoes even have helms), spear reared and ready. The look is soft, and Zuko still finds himself surprised at the fondness the siblings seem to hold for one another, despite their constant bickering.

”I’m sorry,” Zuko says, because he is, and then, before he can stop himself: ”I have nightmares too, sometimes.”

Katara looks up at him again, eyes curious. He can tell that Sokka is listening in from his posture, as well. Not that it would be possible not to listen in, the canoe is tiny and there is no other sound around save for waves lapping at the canoe and a few caws from the seagull crows circling overhead.

”What about?” Katara asks, and Zuko really should have seen this coming.

He considers lying, but he knows he’s terrible at it, and he sees no point in doing it either, except for maybe keeping up appearances.

”Um, my father,” he replies, and now it’s him who’s staring down into the depths below the canoe.

The water is cold enough to be surprisingly clear, but he can still see himself mirrored in the surface, a vague blob of red and black.

”Why?” Katara asks. ”Your father is alive, isn’t he?”

Zuko briefly forgot that their nightmares probably are nothing alike, besides both being about parents. Katara’s nightmares are probably about her mother being killed by some monster. In Zuko’s nightmares, his father is the monster.

Zuko’s hand moves up to touch his scar, almost by its own accord. He doesn’t like touching it, the skin feels weird beneath his fingertips, and he can’t really feel anything where his skin has been burned, other than pressure. Soft touches just feel like nothing.

”I dream about when he burned me,” he mumbles.

”What?” Katara’s exclamation is one of outrage, and when Zuko looks over he sees that Sokka has dropped his stance to turn and look at Zuko. ”Your father did that to you?”

There are matching looks of horrors on their faces, and it makes Zuko want to backtrack. But he doesn’t.

”Um, yeah,” he tells them. ”I, uh, I spoke, out of line, at this really important meeting and my father challenged me to an Agni Kai and, yeah.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing, which only serve to make Sokka and Katara look even more horrified.

”What’s an Agni Kai?” Sokka asks, but he sounds hesitant, like he doesn’t want to know.

”It’s, uh, a fire duel,” Zuko explains. ”It’s this tradition we have, where you fight for your honor. It’s a way to solve conflicts. It ends when one of the opponents burns the other.”

He sees Katara raise a hand to touch right below her own eye, looking fearful.

”And your father fought you in one? And burned you?”

Sokka looks like he doesn’t believe Zuko, or at least doesn’t want to believe him. Zuko lets his gaze drop to the floor of the canoe.

”I… I didn’t fight,” he says, voice low. ”I couldn’t.”

”And your father burned you anyway?”

Katara sounds very upset now, almost on the verge of tears. This isn’t what Zuko wanted. He just wanted to bond over something (although maybe nightmares isn’t the most normal thing to bond over in the first place.) He doesn’t want their pity, doesn’t need it. He had stepped out of line, and he had accepted his punishment.

Suddenly he finds himself with an armful of Katara, as she clings to him, arms winding tight enough around his neck to choke him slightly. He tenses, because he always does whenever someone touches him, but he doesn’t recoil from her. He doesn’t return it, either, just sends Sokka a confused glance.

”That’s messed up, dude,” he tells Zuko. Then, to his sister: ”Katara, I think you’re choking him.”

Katara sits back, then, and releases Zuko. She sneaks a hand into his, though, and squeezes.

”I can’t believe your own dad did that to you,” she says.

Zuko can. He couldn’t at the time. He had begged for mercy, fully believing that his father wouldn’t fight him if he refused to, if he showed submission, asked for forgiveness. He should have known better, though. His father had been prepared to kill him because his father had told him to, no questions asked. That should have been all Zuko needed to know. His mind flashes back now to blinding fire and intense pain, but he finds Katara’s grip on his hand to be grounding enough that it doesn’t sweep him off his feet like it sometimes does. He inhales and exhales slowly.

”Let’s head back,” Sokka says after a moment of silence. ”There’s no fish to catch here anyway.”

”Katara!”

Zuko’s movements immediately grounds to a halt, as does Katara and his uncle beside him.

A person is running towards them in the distance. Zuko can’t make out any features yet, and the semi-botched eyesight in his left eye means he has a hard time telling how far away the person is, but he recognizes the voice. Chief Hakoda.

He looks towards Katara, who looks stiff in a way he’s never seen her be before. She also looks guilty. And that makes Zuko realize: she hasn’t told him. Fear lodges itself in Zuko’s throat, and he tries to will it away. It will probably be fine. All that Zuko has seen of the chief so far has only suggested that he is a patient man, loving of his children in everything they do.

Hakoda is close enough for Zuko to make out his facial expression now. He looks angry. More angry than Zuko has ever seen him. Zuko’s blood runs cold. Chief Hakoda is still running towards Katara and Zuko’s mind blanks for a second, his feet moving on their own accord, and when his mind finally catches up to him again, he’s standing in front of the chief, arms raised in front of him, waiting for a blow that never comes.

All anger seem to drain from the chief’s face as he looks at Zuko.

”Prince Zuko?” he says, and his voice is gentle, like he’s talking to a scared child.

Zuko lowers his arms. He feels stupid, and his heart is still hammering wildly in his chest.

”I’m sorry,” he says, although he’s not sure what he’s sorry for. Assuming Hakoda would hurt his daughter? Allowing Katara to train with him and uncle? Just being here in the first place?

”You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” chief Hakoda tells him, then looks over Zuko’s shoulder at his daughter. Some of the anger returns to his face as he looks at her, and Zuko tenses again.

”Please don’t be mad at Katara,” he begs the chief. ”She only wanted to learn.”

Hakoda looks back at Zuko, and there’s that look of sadness again.

”I mean, I am angry with her,” he says. ”She knows she isn’t supposed to tell anyone outside our tribe that she’s a bender, and she never told me she was training with you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to hurt her. I would never do that.”

Right. Zuko should have known that. Hakoda isn’t Ozai.

”I didn’t tell you because I know you wouldn’t have let me practice with them,” Katara interjects, stepping forward to stand next to Zuko. ”You always treat me like I’m a child that needs your protection, and like my bending is something I shouldn’t be using, but I’m not a child anymore and I want to learn!”

She looks her father straight in the eyes in obvious defiance, but Zuko can also see that her lower lip is trembling. Everything about Hakoda seems to soften as he looks at his daughter, and for a brief, painful moment Zuko is reminded of his mother. Hakoda pulls his daughter into a hug.

”Katara,” he says into her hair, and Katara returns the hug, clinging to her father. ”I’m sorry.”

It’s weird, to Zuko, hearing a parent, a father, admit to his own child that he was wrong.

”Maybe you’re right,” Hakoda continues. ”Maybe I have been a bit overprotective. You and your brother mean everything to me, and I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to either of you.” he leans back to look at his daughter, using his thumbs to brush away a few tears that have spilled from Katara’s eyes. ”But you’re a bender. Of course you should be able to learn, in any way you can.”

Zuko looks away from the scene in front of him, feeling like an intruder. He hears uncle step forward behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Zuko lets him.

”What are you doing here?”

Uncle looks up from where he is sitting at the table, busy preparing something other than tea, for once, though Zuko can’t really tell what it is, except that is some kind of food. Uncle follows the line of Zuko’s gaze to the boy sitting at his left. Sokka meets Zuko’s eyes head on, not wavering.

”I invited him to try some of our local delicacies,” uncle explains, going back to preparing whatever food is in front of him. ”Sokka told me that he had never had Komodo rhino sausage, and I offered to let him try some.”

Zuko realizes that uncle is busy cutting slices from a thick sausage, transferring the pieces to a steaming bowl of rice. Sokka is looking at the bowl as if it’s the single greatest thing he has ever seen in his life. Zuko scoffs, furrowing his brows at the sight. Sure, Sokka has been treating him much better since their latest fishing trip, but Zuko strongly suspects it’s because he pities him, and Zuko doesn’t like being pitied, so he hasn’t really been too responsive to Sokka’s attempts at contact. He feels a bit bad about it, but not bad enough to stop.

Uncle sprinkles some dried chili flakes over the rice and slides the bowl over to Sokka, who eagerly digs his spoon into it, shuffling a bite into his mouth.

”Spirits, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Sokka groans with his mouth full. Zuko pulls a face. Seriously, has no one taught this boy any manners? Suddenly, Sokka’s eyes go wide and slightly glassy, and he starts fanning his mouth. ” Hot, hot!”

Zuko can’t help but snicker. Water tribe food is alright, Zuko thinks, but the only spices available here are mild and mellow, lacking the bright flavors of fire nation cuisine. It’s yet another aspect of life in the fire nation that Zuko hadn’t expected to miss this much, along with the high pitched buzzing of cricket cicadas and the feeling of warm cobblestones beneath bare feet. Here, the nights are filled with the crackling of fires and the distant howl of some unknown animal, and Zuko doesn’t think his feet have been bare for more than ten minutes since he came here, except for when he’s taking a bath.

Uncle pours a glass of buffalo yak milk into a cup and hands it to Sokka, who quickly downs it.

”I’m sorry,” uncle says. ”I should have realized you would maybe not be used to these kind of spices.”

Sokka sends Zuko a quick glare as he snickers again, then turns to uncle, shrugging.

”Still worth it,” he says, shuffling another spoonful into his mouth. ”Keep the milk coming, though.”

Zuko rolls his eyes.

”Where did you even get that?” he asks uncle, indicating the food with a nod of his head.

”The market,” uncle tells him. ”It was very pricey, though, which is a shame, and a sham, for that matter.” He turns to Sokka. ”This food is readily available in the fire nation, and usually cheap, but I guess they bump the prices up when they come here, barking on the other nations not knowing its actual value.”

Sokka scoffs, downing some milk and shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

”Typical fire nation behavior,” he says, but then he seems to catch himself, looking at uncle. ”Or, I mean, not all fire nation citizens, of course…”

Uncle just laughs good-naturedly. Zuko is caught somewhere between anger and shame. He catches small tidbits like that here and there when he moves around the village, when the others think he is not listening (and sometimes when they know he is, as well, as if they’re making a point of it), about fire nation this or fire nation that. Almost always remarks about fire benders being violent, of how the fire nation can’t be trusted, or just generally attaching an array of negative traits to fire nation citizens. Zuko gets it, he really does. But it’s also his home. And not everyone from the fire nation is like that. Most of the people there are just trying to live their life.

There’s also the part of him that bristles at the notion of people he has been taught to consider being beneath him deigning to criticize his nation, his people, but that part has grown weaker since he came here, since he’s seen the day to day life of the people living in the wolf cove, realizing that they are just trying to live their life, as well.

For now, he says nothing, just walks past the table where uncle and Sokka is sitting to his bed.

”Where’s Noriko?” he asks uncle as he settles on his bedroll, kicking off his boots. He’s decided to just ignore Sokka, for the time being.

”She said she had a head ache and went to see the healer,” uncle tells him. ”Though I suspect her visit there might have to do more with the healer than any actual ailments.”

Zuko furrows his brows in confusion, but Sokka seems to understand exactly what uncle is implying, snorting out a laugh before shoving another spoonful of food into his mouth, quickly followed by a few gulps of milk.

”Yeah, like half the village is in love with Maliq,” Sokka says. ”Mostly the women but some of the men too. Dad always says that Maliq wouldn’t have even half of the work load they have if they weren’t so good-looking.”

Zuko, who has finally caught onto what his uncle is implying is once again cast back into confusion.

”They?” he asks.

Sokka scrapes the last remains of rice from the bowl, and Zuko’s both impressed and slightly disturbed by the speed of which Sokka has devoured the entire dish.

”Yeah, Maliq is tuul’a,” he says, as if that would explain everything. He must gather from Zuko’s blank stare that it doesn’t, because he continues to explain: ”Like, they’re both male and female at the same time?”

Zuko finds his mind slightly reeling from the implication.

”That’s not a thing,” he says, sounding more confident than he feels.

But surely, it isn’t? If such people existed, he would have heard about it. And he can’t really wrap his mind around the concept. As far as he knows, you’re either a boy or a girl, man or woman. Sure, there were variations within it. Like Azula’s friend Ty Lee, who was undeniably a very girly girl compared to her friend Mai, or even Azula herself, but they were all still girls.

”What do you mean, it’s not a thing?” Sokka asks. ”Don’t you have people who are tuul’a in the fire nation?”

Zuko is about to open his mouth to answer no, but uncle speaks before he has the chance to.

”Things are very… different, in the fire nation,” uncle says. ”I’m sure there are people like Maliq there, but they aren’t accepted, like they are here.”

Zuko closes his mouth. Oh.

Sokka just looks confused.

”Why wouldn’t it be accepted?” he asks. ”Why would it even matter?”

Uncle heaves a deep sigh.

”That’s a really good question, Sokka,” he says. ”And the answer is a complex mix of history and tradition.”

Sokka seems to contemplate this for a moment. Zuko just holds his breath. Just as he’s started to realize just how much he misses of the fire nation, he has also started to realize how different the fire nation is from the water tribe, just how many things that are forbidden or shunned or dismissed in his home land that are perfectly fine here.

He knows how his father and the scholars of the nation would explain the differences: that the fire nation is more evolved, that every other nation has fallen behind, that the others are backwards and savage, and that this is why the fire nation is superior and should be the natural leader of the other nations. But seeds of doubt have started to take root within Zuko, even though he is trying his best to stop them from growing further. Because Sokka has a point. Why would it even matter to anyone whether someone was a man or a woman or both or neither? Why would it even matter if you loved someone of the opposite or same gender?

”That’s just dumb,” Sokka concludes. ”Like, Maliq are what they are, whether someone accepts it or not. You can’t just forbid people from being who they are.”

Uncle looks sad.

”That’s an admirable standpoint, Sokka,” he says. ”And I very much agree.”

It’s weird, listening to uncle going against beliefs that have been ingrained in Zuko since birth. He wonders if his uncle has always held these opinions, has always harbored this defiance against the fire nation within him, or if he, too, was convinced of the infallibility of their home land at one point. He wonders when it changed.

”What are those?”

Zuko shifts his gaze to Sokka, who is pointing at something on the wall, and when he turns to look he realizes that Sokka is pointing at Zuko’s broadswords. Zuko had hung them up on the wall after Noriko had tripped over them one time too many, complaining that Zuko shouldn’t let dangerous weapons just lie around on the floor.

”Uh,” Zuko starts, turning back to Sokka. ”They’re my swords.”

He watches Sokka’s mouth drop open.

”No way!” he says. ”Can you fight with them?”

Zuko furrows his eyebrows in confusion yet again (because the ability of chief Hakoda’s family to utterly confuse him seems never-ending).

”Of course,” he says. ”Why would I have them if I couldn’t fight with them?”

Sokka now looks like he’s ready to burst.

”You have to teach me!” he exclaims.

”Absolutely not.”

”Not fair,” Sokka whines from where he’s lying flat on his back in the snow. ”You tripped me! We’re supposed to be sword fighting, not fighting like little girls. What are you going to do next, pull my wolf tail?”

Sokka is surprisingly petulant for someone with a sword pointed at his throat, then again Zuko supposes these swords could barely cut through bread with how blunt they are. He removes his sword from Sokka’s throat and shrugs.

”You got distracted, and I used that to my advantage,” he says.

Sokka raises up on his elbows and sends Zuko a glare. Zuko hears a giggle from behind him, and turns towards the sound. Katara has stopped her water bending practice with uncle and is instead laughing at her brother.

”Please do pull his wolf tail next time,” Katara tells Zuko.

”Traitor,” Sokka mutters as he gets up from the ground. ”I’m your brother, and your siding with the enemy?”

Zuko sighs. He’s not entirely sure how Sokka had managed to talk him into this, but he supposes it had something to do with him being annoyingly persistent, along with the small tingle of pleasure Zuko felt at having a skill the other boy coveted. He was used to being the one having to turn to others to teach him, constantly falling behind and never living up to expectations.

Learning sword fighting had once been a way for him to have something that was purely his own. His sister had never seen the point in learning any other form of fighting than fire bending and hand-to-hand combat, claiming she was her own weapon. When Zuko had trained with master Piandao it had meant acquiring a skill that his sister didn’t have. Not that she had particularly cared, and she still bested him in combat, but he treasured it nonetheless. And having Sokka consider that skill something enviable, asking Zuko to teach it to him… Well, maybe Zuko’s initial reluctance had been mostly for show.

So, now Sokka joined his sister every morning, and while she was practicing her water bending with uncle, he and Sokka trained with swords. It was only their third day of training, but Zuko had already realized that Sokka was a quick learner. He seemed to soak up everything Zuko was teaching like a sponge, and while he still had a very long way to go, he had already learned how to block some of Zuko’s attacks and was becoming increasingly comfortable with handling the sword.

The practice swords that chief Hakoda had let them borrow from the armory (Zuko had made sure that Sokka asked permission before they started training) are heavy and clumsy and nothing like Zuko’s dao swords, but they do the job just fine. Sokka swings his in a big arc, looking over at Zuko with challenge in his eyes.

”Let’s go again,” he says. ”No foul plays this time, though.”

Zuko rolls his eyes.

”It’s not foul play,” he says. ”When you’re in an actual fight, it’s all about finding your opponent’s weaknesses. If someone leaves their left side open, that’s where you attack. If someone favors leaning on their right leg over the left, you try to get them to shift their weight over to the left leg to make them lose balance. And,” he says with a small smile. ”If someone charges at you full speed like a mad man, you step aside and trip them.”

Sokka looks indignant, but Zuko can also tell that he’s listening to what he’s saying. Zuko finds that he has an easier time talking to someone if he’s teaching them, and so his social ineptness is less of a problem whenever they’re training. He also finds himself more relaxed in the other boy’s presence as they’ve spent more time together. It’s weird, this shift in their dynamic, but Zuko can’t claim to dislike it. Sokka is…less of a jerk than he thought him to be initially.

”Fine,” Sokka says. ”But just know that this means that your stupid pony tail is no longer off limits.”

And sometimes Sokka is exactly the kind of jerk he thought him to be initially.

”You’ll have to get close to me first,” Zuko retorts, shifting into fighting stance.

Sokka mirrors him best he can, then quirks an eyebrow and winks at Zuko.

”Challenge accepted,” he says.

Zuko feels heat rise to his cheeks, unbidden, and if Sokka almost manages to disarm him this time it’s only because he cheats, nothing else.

Chapter Text

Hakoda is getting used to running into members of the small fire nation entourage now residing amongst them as he moves around the village. He’s even starting to pick up a pattern. Both Noriko and general Iroh can usually be found at the market, Noriko buying ingredients for dinners and lunches while Iroh browses the weaved baskets and colorful garments. He’s even seen Iroh wear pieces of clothing and jewelry very clearly of water tribe origin from time to time. He’s not sure how he feels about that, until his mother, in that blunt way of hers, had told him that this kind of exchange between nations is exactly what having peace is about, and since then he’s concluded that he appreciates the general’s efforts to involve himself in the water tribe culture, even if it is mainly through fashion.

He runs into Zuko all the time, accompanied by his children. Most often it’s Katara, but Sokka seems to be tagging along more and more often nowadays. He’s still a bit on the fence about Katara practicing her bending with the general, but Hakoda accompanied her once and it’s clear she’s making progress, excitedly showing him how she had learned to create small waves using a push-and-pull motion Iroh had apparently found in a water bending scroll in the fire nation library. Hakoda has an easier time accepting Sokka’s sword training with the prince, and he feels a bit hypocritical about that. Then again, the fire nation didn’t raid their tribe over several decades looking for sword fighters to kidnap or kill.

General Iroh also seems to have struck up something of a friendship with Bato, which Hakoda finds both endearing and a bit odd. If someone had told Hakoda three months ago that it would be a common occurrence for him to come home on late afternoons to his partner having tea and playing pai sho with the Dragon of the West, Hakoda would probably have suggested that they go see a healer, as they had clearly hit their head on something, and yet now it was part of his everyday life.

So, no, it’s definitely not unusual for Hakoda to bump into either one of the three fire nation citizens during his daily ministrations, but he somehow finds himself surprised as he steps into Maliq’s tent one morning to pick up a salve for Bato’s sore shoulder and finds Noriko there.

Noriko is still the person from the small fire nation party who keeps most to herself. It’s to be expected, he supposes, as she is here as a servant, and as such her main job is to attend to the prince, and, to a lesser degree, the general. (And to spy on them, but Hakoda tries not to think about that too much. It’s difficult to merge the reality of Noriko’s cheerful demeanor with that of a spy planted among them to report back to a man who Hakoda has a hard time to not think about as ”the enemy”.)

Which is why, he supposes, he’s caught off guard when he finds her in Maliq’s tent. They’re just talking, it seems, but they fall quiet when Hakoda enters, and the air is thick with something that Hakoda can’t really place.

”I’m sorry,” he says. ”I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m just her to pick up the salve for…”

He trails off, looking at Noriko. He has a hard time remembering that he needs to keep his relationship with Bato under wraps, for the time being. He is constantly catching himself reaching for the other man, years of casual physical contact having formed his habits. The rest of the village has been instructed to not mention Hakoda’s relationship with Bato if they can avoid it, and, as far as they know, that relationship is now over as Hakoda is going to marry prince Zuko.

Noriko doesn’t seem to notice Hakoda’s hesitation now, though, too busy looking everywhere but him. Maliq clears their throat.

”You’re not interrupting,” they say, glancing at Noriko. ”I’ll get the salve.”

Noriko looks at him with a small smile on her lips, and Maliq returns it with one of their own. Hakoda thinks he can spot a faint blush adorning Maliq’s cheeks and…oh. Oh!

Maliq is young for a healer, only 27 years of age, and undeniably pretty, with their delicate features, freckled skin and brown hair pulled back in to a thick braid curling across their back. Hakoda knows that they have had many suitors, but they have never settled down with anyone, and Hakoda had thought that maybe Maliq just wasn’t interested in that kind of relationship. But seeing the glances they steal in Noriko’s direction just now, he thinks that maybe Maliq was just waiting for the right person to catch their attention. He smiles to himself.

”So, Noriko,” he says, seemingly startling the young woman. ”What brings you here? I hope you’re not sick?”

Noriko blushes at Hakoda’s words, and it only makes him smile wider.

”Oh, no,” she says. ”I mean, it’s nothing serious. I just seem to be getting these headaches and Maliq’s been helping me with them.”

Maliq looks at Noriko with a soft smile, then they seem to remember that Hakoda is still there and clears their throat once again.

”Here is your salve, chief Hakoda,” they tell him, handing him a small jar. ”I hope it helps.”

Hakoda takes the jar and nods.

”I’m sure it will,” he says. ”I’ll leave you two to take care of Noriko’s headache, then,” he continues, moving towards the tent opening.

”Actually, I’ll come with you, chief Hakoda,” Noriko says, but she sounds a bit reluctant. ”I need to swing by the market to pick up some fish for dinner tonight.”

Hakoda halt his steps to wait for her, averting his eyes to give them some privacy in whatever it is going on between them, but Noriko falls into step with him soon enough.

”Goodbye, Maliq,” she tells the healer, offering them a smile.

They exit the tent and walk beside each other in silence for a few moments. Hakoda wonders what all of this means for Noriko. As the handmaiden to the prince Hakoda supposes there is nothing wrong in her forming some sort of relationship with Maliq. General Iroh and the prince doesn’t really treat her like a servant anyway, and Hakoda has no doubt that they would grant her time off to spend more time with the healer, should she ask for it.

But as a spy? How could she reconcile that particular mission with whatever she and Maliq had going on? Then again, maybe this is part of it? Forming a close bond with members of the tribe to gain even more information? But no. The feelings he felt he picked up on in that tent seemed genuine, and of all the things he knew about Noriko, her being a good actor was not one of them. The only conclusion he can reach is that this is all real, and that it will probably mean a great conflict of interest for Noriko further down the line. He sighs. Spy or not, he can’t help but feel a bit bad for her.

”Is it wrong of me to assume that you and our village’s healer have formed some sort of friendship?” he asks, keeping his tone light.

He can see Noriko straighten up a bit out of the corner of his eye.

”They’ve helped me a lot,” is all she says. ”My headaches are a lot better now.”

Hakoda hums.

”Yes, they’re a talented healer,” he says. Then, because he can’t stop himself. ”And rather easy on the eyes.”

He can’t help but chuckle as Noriko sputters beside him. She finds her footing quickly, though, and looks at him with a haughty sort of expression, which is somewhat detracted from by the blush once again spreading across her cheeks.

”I hadn’t noticed,” she says.

”Oh?”, Hakoda replies. ”Then maybe you should get Maliq to check your eyesight as well.”

”I don’t like what you’re insinuating, chief Hakoda,” Noriko says.

Hakoda realizes then that he might have pushed things too far, that Noriko might think Hakoda’s intentions more nefarious than good-natured teasing. He stops walking and turns towards her, letting the smile drop from his face.

”Look, Noriko,” he says. ”It’s alright. Whatever you have going on with Maliq, it’s alright. Whether it’s friendship or… something else, I’m just happy for you.”

And he means it. He doesn’t know much about Noriko, but she strikes him as rather lonely, being away from her family and her country, the only real company she has also being her employers and superiors. He might not trust Noriko, but he finds that he’s somewhat grown to like her, despite everything.

Noriko just quietly regards him for a few moments, then offers him a small, conspiratorial smile.

”They are quite handsome, aren’t they?” she says.

Hakoda returns her smile.

”They are indeed.”

They have just started to move towards the market place again, when there is piercing shriek coming from somewhere above them. When Hakoda looks up he can make out the shape of a hawk, diving towards them. Hakoda ducks his head, and the hawk sweeps by him, close enough that he can feel the draft as it flaps its wings. He looks behind him and watches it land in Noriko’s outstretched hand. Noriko offers the hawk a few seeds from her pocket, and then unties the message from its leg. She reads the letter quickly, and turns towards Hakoda with a beaming smile.

”The wedding entourage from the fire nation will arrive in a week’s time,” she tells him. ”And princess Azula is with them!”

It feels like the whole village has been in a flurry ever since they got notice of the fire nation’s arrival. Tents have been put up to offer lodging, their two seamstresses have gone into overdrive to produce clothing worthy of a royal wedding for Hakoda, his children, his mother and his closest advisors, and their communal igloo has been donned in red and gold decorations, making Hakoda do a double take whenever he enters it, the fire nation colors decorating the frozen walls making him feel slightly disoriented.

Noriko has gone into overdrive with everything that need to be in place before the arrival of the entourage from the fire nation, obsessing over every little detail to the point where Hakoda feared that she would tear out her own hair in frustration when she learned that they would not be able to get fresh fire lilies for the wedding banquet.

He would have thought that Zuko would be happy with the news that his sister was coming along, but he doesn’t seem happy at all, he seems nervous, almost scared. Hakoda’s usual chiefly responsibilities have been completely overturned by the preparations for the wedding and he feels done with it before it’s even here. Granted, he has never looked forward to it, but now less than ever. Prince Zuko seems miserable as they frantically practice every single one of the overly elaborate fire nation wedding rituals. Hakoda screws up most of them and Noriko will probably send herself into an early grave with how she frets over every mistake he makes.

Bato and Gilak have taken over almost all of Hakoda’s duties, being his closest advisors and next in command, and Hakoda barely sees Bato anymore. They both more or less crash into bed late into the night every day, curling up close but too tired to do more than that. It’s complete madness.

”Chief Hakoda?”

Hakoda is getting tired of hearing his own name, but he turns towards whoever has uttered it nonetheless. Noriko stands behind him, looking nervous.

”Could I speak with you in private for a moment?”

There is really no time for that, but Noriko knows this better than anyone, so Hakoda just leads her into his bedroom and closes the door behind him. He sits down on his bed, taking every moment to get off his feet at this point, but Noriko remains standing.

”I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, chief Hakoda,”she starts. ”But I feel like I need to speak to you about…” She trails off for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing: ”About your and prince Zuko’s wedding night.”

Oh no.

”As you should be aware by now, a lot is expected from the wedding night, and the week following it,” Noriko says, and she’s not meeting Hakoda’s eyes, choosing instead to look at a spot somewhere behind his left shoulder. Not that Hakoda minds, this is not a conversation he is too keen to have either. ”I do believe, however, that the young prince may be rather… inexperienced, when it comes to… intimacy.”

Hakoda wishes for a diversion, someone urgently needing his input regarding the color of the paper flowers donning the tables during the wedding feast, having to fish Sokka out of the well (again), his house being on fire, anything but having to face Noriko at this particular moment. But he has no such luck.

”I just wanted to ensure,” Noriko soldiers on. ”I just wanted to ensure,” she repeats. ”That you know this, and ask you to be gentle with him.”

Oh. Hakoda feels a surge of affection for the woman in front of him. It would be easy for her to only assume the role of servant, to do what is expected of her, nothing more. Being a spy, it would serve her better to detach herself from the prince, and everyone surrounding him. But yet here she is, taking her time to tell Hakoda, someone she believes to be her superior, that he should be careful with the prince. Granted, what she is asking him, more specifically, is to be gentle with the prince as he takes his virginity, which is a concept so horrific that Hakoda has to suppress a shudder, but he can still recognize both the care Noriko feels for the young prince, as well as the courage it would take for her to a approach Hakoda with this message.

He leans forward, seeking out Noriko’s gaze from where it is still focused slightly to his left.

”I assure you, Noriko, that I do not intend to do anything to prince Zuko that would make him uncomfortable,” he says, and he wishes he could convey to her in no uncertain terms just how true that is.

She seems to relax a bit at that.

”That’s… good,” she says. ”And I’m sorry, chief Hakoda, I know it’s not my place…”

”It’s fine,” Hakoda says. ”I’m glad he has you looking out for him. It’s easy to feel protective over him, isn’t it?”

She offers him a small smile.

”Yes,” she agrees. ”It is.”

Hakoda stares at himself in the mirror. The clothes he’s currently wearing are beautiful, red silk robe fitted over loose, black pants, wide gold belt tied tightly around his waist. There are accessories laid out across his bed as well, gold bracelets and a gold headpiece that he has yet to put on. But Hakoda can’t stop staring at his reflection. Yes, the clothes are beautiful, but he can’t shake the acute feeling of wrongness. Hakoda has never seen himself dressed in anything other than water tribe clothing, and though he himself had chosen to wear traditional fire nation clothing rather than the clothes usually worn for water tribe weddings, he still feels unsettled. He looks like the enemy.

The war is over, and having prince Zuko, general Iroh and Noriko living here for the past few weeks has absolutely made him realize that there are fire nation citizens that are kind and funny and awkward and just… ordinary people (although two of them also happen to be royals). But in his mind, the fire nation will always be the enemy, will always be who killed his wife and robbed the southern water tribe of its benders, reducing it to almost nothing. Seeing himself in the colors he have associated with war for so long just feels wrong.

The door to the bedroom opens, and someone behind him lets out a low whistle.

”Wow. That’s just weird.”

Bato.

Hakoda turns to face his partner, who is looking him over with an unreadable expression.

”I mean, I won’t lie, it looks good on you.”

Hakoda levels him with an unimpressed glare. Bato shrugs.

”It’s not my fault you’re hot.”

”I keep startling myself when I look in the mirror,” Hakoda confesses, turning back to his reflection again, scrunching his nose up in distaste as he once again lays eyes on it. ”My mind keeps screaming danger, although I know I’m looking a myself.”

Bato steps up behind him, sliding his arms around Hakoda’s waist, clasping his hands over the golden belt. Hakoda leans back against him, closing his eyes.

”I feel like I’ve barely seen you these last couple of days,” he says. ”I’ve missed you.”

He feels Bato’s lips on his neck.

”Well, you’re getting married in four days,” Bato says. ”Things have been kind of hectic.”

Some sort of bitterness tinges Bato’s voice, and Hakoda opens his eyes to look at his partner in the mirror.

”I’m sorry,” he says.

Hakoda can feel Bato’s chest expand against his back as he sighs.

”You’ve said that. Just make sure to put on a convincing show for the fire nation, so that we’ll never have to see them on our shores again.”

Bato sends him a sideways smile in the mirror, allowing on of his hands to glide beneath the hem of Hakoda’s tunic.

”Will you get to keep the clothes after the ceremony?” he asks, lips returning to Hakoda’s neck. ”I can think of a few scenarios that might be fun to play out in this.”

”Bato,” Hakoda groans, but it’s half hearted as he tilts his neck to give Bato better access.

”I’m thinking I could be your prisoner of war, and you could be my captor, and I would be left entirely to your mercy,” Bato teases, mouth moving across the column of Hakoda’s neck.

Hakoda huffs.

”You’re just trying to distract me,” he tells Bato, because he is.

Hakoda knows this is Bato’s way to make him feel better, make some of the weirdness disperse, and he’s grateful for it.

”Is it working?” Bato asks, moving his hands to the belt around Hakoda’s waist to unclasp it.

Hakoda meets Bato’s gaze in the mirror again. There’s lust in his eyes but mainly love, and something else, something sadder. Maybe Bato needs this distraction as well.

”Yes,” Hakoda admits as the belt falls to the floor.

”Good,” Bato says, turning Hakoda around and pushing him towards the bed.

Hakoda goes easily.

- - - - -

Zuko looks at himself in the mirror. He should be grateful it’s not a dress, at least, but rather this tunic reaching down to his knees, a pair of loose pants underneath. It’s still embroidered with the pattern traditionally reserved for the bride’s wedding dress, though, and Noriko has tied a red and gold silk ribbon around his top knot in an intricate bow, signifying fertility. The water tribe people won’t know what it means, but his own countrymen absolutely will.

He sighs, tearing the bow from his hair, letting it fall around his face instead. His sister will be here in just two days time. He had not expected to see Azula again for along time. He feels like her being here for the wedding can mean nothing good.

”Spirits, how do you even tie this thing?”

Zuko whirls around the see Sokka emerging from the small changing room in the seamstresses tent. He’s wearing a get up similar to Zuko, only his tunic is a deep brown color rather than red, only reaching halfway down his thigh, and there is no embroidery on it. His tunic is also hanging open, Sokka staring at the belt in his hands as if it had personally offended him. For a moment Zuko’s gaze catches on the smooth expanse of Sokka’s bare chest beneath the tunic, and that moment alone is enough for him to panic and avert his gaze to the floor.

He sees Sokka’s feet come to an abrupt halt, and Sokka falls quiet, which has Zuko looking up at the other boy, carefully avoiding the chest area this time as his eyes travel to Sokka’s face.

Sokka’s mouth is hanging slightly agape as he looks, no, gawks at Zuko. Zuko looks down at himself, half worried that his own tunic has come undone, but no. He looks back up at Sokka.

”What?”

His and Sokka’s relationship has greatly improved since Zuko started teaching him sword fighting. He might even say that they’re well on their way to becoming friends (not that Zuko really knows what having friends is like, or what the road there looks like). Zuko has realized, somewhat begrudgingly, that Sokka is just fun to be around. He’s sarcastic and actually kind of smart and also the only boy his own age that Zuko has ever spent any prolonged periods of time with, so he supposes he doesn’t have much to compare it to. But it’s still nice, he thinks.

Now, though, Sokka’s stare is starting to unnerve him, and he repeats his:

”What?”, maybe a bit more annoyed than he intended.

It seems to shake Sokka from his stupor, though.

”Nothing,” the other boy says, but his voice breaks over the last syllable. ”Are you wearing your hair down for the ceremony?”

Zuko’s hand reaches up to his hair, self-consciously.

”Um, no,” he says. ”I just… didn’t like the way it looked.”

He grabs a plain leather band from his pocket, quickly twisting his hair up into its usual top knot.

”Do you need help with that?” Zuko asks, indicating the belt in Sokka’s hand with a small nod. Sokka looks down at it like he only now realized he’s still holding it.

”Oh,” he says, holding it out to Zuko. ”Yeah.”

Zuko takes it from Sokka’s hands and steps closer to him, which might have been a mistake. He’s close enough to Sokka to count his eyelashes, and hey, have they always been this long and dark? His eyes move across Sokka’s face, taking in just how blue his eyes are, and the small mole by his left eyebrow, and okay this was definitely a mistake, where is all this coming from? Zuko takes a step back, desperate to put some space between him and the other boy.

”Turn around,” he tells Sokka instead.

Sokka complies. Zuko reaches around him to adjust his tunic so he can tie the belt around Sokka’s waist and, oh, now he’s almost hugging him from behind and this is worse, this is infinitely worse, what was he thinking?

”I wish they had given me something more slimming.”

Zuko and Sokka yelp in unison, Zuko leaping back like Sokka had burnt him, throwing the belt in his hand at the intruder.

His uncle looks at the belt in surprise as it bounces off his stomach and lands on the floor, then looks up at Sokka and Zuko. Zuko feels like his cheeks are on fire and Agni, what must uncle think?

Uncle just hums, though, and bends down to pick up the belt from the floor.

”Did you need help with this?” he asks Sokka, only pausing to send Zuko a meaningful look that he neither can nor will decipher.

”Yeah,” Sokka says, his voice raised an octave higher than usual. He clears his throat. ”Thanks.”

Uncle tugs the tunic into place and ties the belt around Sokka’s waist. Sokka turns to look at himself in the mirror, pulling a face.

”I look like a jerk bender,” he says.

Zuko snorts, sidling up next to Sokka in the mirror, careful to keep some distance between them, though, as to not repeat whatever moment had passed between them earlier.

”That’s kind of the point,” he says. ”It looks weird on you, though.”

Sokka sticks his tongue out at Zuko’s reflection, and the childish gesture startles a laugh from Zuko.

”Thank you, you highness,” he says. ”You look weird too.”

Uncle steps up behind him, putting one of his hands on Zuko’s shoulder and the other on Sokka’s, smiling at them both in the mirror.

”Well, I think you both look very handsome. I’m sure you will make all the girls swoon at the wedding. And the boys, for that matter.”

Zuko is not sure if he should be happy or mortified that his uncle decided to be inclusive on this occasion, but Sokka doesn’t seem fazed, so he guesses it’s alright. His uncle definitely knows, though.

”Ew, uncle,” he says, for good measure.

Sokka, on the other hand, smiles smugly at his own reflection, reaching up to adjust his wolf tail. Ew, Zuko thinks again, but there is no real disgust behind it, even in his own mind, and Zuko abruptly decides that all thoughts of how nice Sokka looks in fire nation clothing must cease right this moment.

”What’s your sister like?” Katara asks.

Zuko pauses his, rather poor, attempt at building a camp fire, to look at Katara.

”She’ll be here tomorrow, right?” she says. ”What’s she like?”

Zuko mulls the question over for a moment.

”Competitive,” he settles on, focusing again on trying to arrange the firewood in a manner that at least resembles the way he’s seen Bato and Hakoda do it in the cabin. It falls together in a miserable little heap.

Sokka looks over from where he is busy putting up their tent and sighs.

”Seriously? You’re a fire bender, how are you so bad at this?”

Zuko steps back from his sad little pile of sticks to glare at Sokka. Sokka just rolls his eyes at him, holding out a rope connected to the tarp of the tent towards Zuko.

”You put up the tent, I’ll build a camp fire,” he settles.

Zuko accepts the rope, knowing very well that he has no idea how to put up a tent, either.

”But you’re lighting it,” Sokka tells him as he squats down by the fire pit.

Zuko shrugs. That, at least, he knows how to do.

Katara comes over and takes the tent-rope-thingy from him, clearly sensing his cluelessness.

”Here, I’ll show you,” she says.

She grabs a pointy stick from a pile next to the tent, and picks up a wooden hammer.

”This is a peg,” she says. ”You use it to secure the tent to the ground and make sure the tent poles stay upright.”

She ties the end of the rope into a loop, threading the peg through it and then uses the hammer to pound it into the ground.

”Now you try,” she says, handing him the hammer.

Their hands brush as he takes the hammer from her, and he can feel Katara’s thumb glide across the back of his hand in a way that has to be deliberate. He snatches his hand back so fast he sends the hammer flying. Katara laughs at him, a soft blush adorning her cheeks.

Oh no, Zuko thinks.

Sokka looks over at them when he hears the hammer clatter to the ground somewhere behind Zuko. He narrows his eyes in suspicion, and Zuko stands up quick enough to make himself slightly dizzy.

”I’ll go get the hammer,” he says, moving away from Katara quickly.

He retrieves the hammer and gives it back to Katara, careful to keep his hand as far away from hers as possible as he does.

”I think it’s better if I just help Sokka with the fire, instead,” he tells her, and he thinks she looks a bit disappointed.

He feels guilty about that. He likes Katara, and he never meant to lead her on in any way, but it’s becoming more and more obvious that Katara might be harboring a small crush towards him. And Zuko has no idea how to handle that.

He walks over to Sokka and bends down next to him.

”All set,” the other boy tells him. ”Now, do your magic.”

”Still not magic,” Zuko retorts, but he puts his hand out anyway, allowing fire to stream in a soft flow from his palm onto the firewood, withdrawing as soon as he’s sure it’s catching.

Sokka watches his hand in fascination, his face illuminated by the soft, yellow glow of the fire, reflecting in his eyes. A few strands of hair has fallen out of his wolf tail to curl across his forehead, and Zuko stares as Sokka uses one hand to push his hair back, and the other to readjust the leather band around it.

Another thing that has become more and more clear these last couple of days is that Zuko finds Sokka pretty. Like, really pretty. He’s not sure why his mind decided that now was a good time to catch on to that fact, but he does know what to do with it though: repress it.

”I’m hungry,” Sokka declares, and stands up to stretch. His parka slides up just a little as he does, revealing a sliver of skin, and Zuko very pointedly does not stare.

”You’re always hungry,” Katara retorts.

Katara had decided that they should all go on a camping trip, to celebrate the first night of polar sun. Zuko has no idea how she had convinced Noriko to let him join in the middle of the wedding preparations, but she had. And so here they were, settling in to watch the sun not set. According to Katara and Sokka, the sun would then continue not setting for another three weeks.

The polar sun is apparently a big deal in the southern water tribe, and traditions have it that any child born during the period of the polar sun would be blessed, especially if they were born on the first or last night. Katara had proudly told him that she was born on the second to last day of the polar sun, meaning she would turn fourteen in three weeks time. Sokka had been born on the cusp of the polar nights, which Katara had gleefully informed him was unlucky. Sokka had only grumbled at that.

Sokka walks over to their tent to rummage around his bag for food, emerging with a bag of tiger seal jerky in his hand, looking far too happy about it. Katara hammers the last peg into the ground and walks over to sit next to Zuko by the fire.

”Are you looking forward to meeting your sister?” Katara asks.

Zuko is glad that she’s asking, rather than assuming. He shrugs.

”I don’t know,” he says. ”We don’t exactly have the best relationship. She’s always been better than me at everything, and father has always liked her best.”

”Your family is weird,” Sokka declares as he sits down on Zuko’s other side.

Zuko shrugs again.

”I guess,” he says.

Sokka offers Zuko the bag of tiger seal jerky, and Zuko declines with a shake of his head. Sokka shrugs and grabs a handful from the bag, shoving it in his own mouth and chewing loudly. Zuko pulls a face. As pretty Sokka is, he is also kind of gross, which Zuko suppose is lucky for him. It’s easier to keep a level head about a cute boy if he also chews with his mouth open.

The sun is dipping close to the horizon now, the sky lighting up in shades of pink and orange. It’s pretty, reflecting slightly off the snow on the tundra.

”So,” he says. ”Now we just sit here, and watch the sun… not set?”

”Pretty much,” Sokka replies around a mouthful of jerky.

”Riveting stuff,” Zuko mutters.

Sokka looks affronted.

”Oh, I’m sorry that our natural wonders aren’t good enough for you, your highness,” he says, but it’s lacking the bite it used to have.

Zuko shoves lightly at Sokka with his shoulder, and then immediately regrets it. He believes his relationship with the water tribe siblings has moved firmly into friend territory by now, but he’s still not sure exactly what that entails.

”Shut up,” he tells Sokka instead, voice soft.

They sit in silence for a while. It is actually a bit exciting, watching the sun dip low enough to touch the horizon, but never going below it. Zuko closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and sure enough, even though it’s the middle of the night he can feel his inner fire connect to the sun. He breathes out a cloud of steam.

”That must come in handy,” Katara says, swiping her hand through the cloud, at the same time Sokka mutters ”Show-off” to his left.

It’s kind of nice, actually, hanging around non-fire benders. The only one Zuko has to compare himself to here is uncle, and uncle will always be so far ahead of him that there’s really no use in comparison. To Sokka and Katara, just being able to light a fire is good enough. It’s the first time ever that Zuko has felt content with his bending abilities. He supposes that will change when Azula arrives, though, and they get a sense of what a real bender looks like.

He crawls in on himself, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them close, at the same time as Sokka stretches his legs out in front of him, towards the fire.

”It’s weird that you’ll basically be our step dad in a few days time,” Katara muses aloud, startling a laugh from Zuko and a loud whine of discontent from Sokka.

Zuko rouses from sleep not long after having succumbed to it, his body still unable to disconnect from the sun and allowing him to sleep for longer than a couple of hours at a time. It’s gotten better the longer he’s been at the South Pole, though, almost as if the sun’s pull is powerful enough to compensate for the lack of sleep. He finds himself pressed up against Sokka’s left side and quickly rolls away, crawling out of the tiny tent. The sun has climbed a bit further from the horizon than when they went to bed last night, after a round of fish grilled over open flame and ghost stories that weren’t really that scary, so Zuko guesses it’s early in the morning.

He stretches before sitting down crosslegged on the ground. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trying to center himself. It’s kind of impossible, though, knowing what the day will bring. He tries for another few breaths, but gives up when he hears footsteps behind him. Katara is making her way over to him, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

”Why do you fire benders wake up so early?” she complains, sitting down next to him.

”We rise with the sun,” Zuko says.

Katara huffs out a laugh at that, but then looks at Zuko.

”Wait, really?”

Zuko nods.

”We draw our power from the sun, and so, when the sun rise, we do as well.”

”Cool,” Katara replies. ”Although it must kind of suck for your right now.”

Zuko shrugs.

”It’s alright.”

Zuko looks out across the tundra again. They’re up one a small hill, and the landscape stretches out in every direction around them, vast and mostly empty. He can make out the wolf cove in the distance, and if he turns the other way, he can just make out another small village some miles away. Katara and Sokka had told him that it’s the village of Kuruk, named after the latest water bender Avatar. All the way to the west stands the forest. Sokka told him that he and Katara has never been there, and that only the hunters in their tribe ever go there. A few of the ghost stories the water tribe siblings had told him yesterday involved the forest, and the creatures rumored to lurk there.

He can still feels Katara’s gaze on his face, even as he tries to ignore it. He finally relents, turning back to her, at which point she averts her gaze, blushing slightly as she plays with one of her hair loops.

”I’m glad you came to the South Pole,” she confesses him, still blushing and, Agni, Zuko feels really out of his depth here.

He does really like Katara. She has been nothing but nice to him since he came here, and she’s the first friend Zuko has ever made. She’s made the fact that he has to stay here, on this frozen piece of land far from everything he finds familiar, a bit easier to accept. But he’s also scared that whatever she might feel towards him is something he has encouraged without meaning to.

”Uh, I’m glad, too,” he tells her.

Then Katara is leaning forward and closing her eyes and Zuko is scrambling backwards so fast that he ends up flat on his back.

Katara opens her eyes and looks at him.

”Oh,” she says. ”You don’t like me.”

She hides her face in her hands.

”Oh spirits, I’m so stupid,” she groans.

Zuko sits up, gesturing wildly although Katara can’t see him.

”No, no,” he assures her. ”You’re not stupid! And I do like you! It’s just…”

Katara peeks out at him from between her fingers.

”Yeah, but you don’t like me that way,” she says, sounding surly.

Zuko resumes his cross-legged position, looking down at his hands.

”No,” he admits. His heart is beating with worry that he has somehow ruined the his first ever friendship. He wants to explain himself to Katara, but the words feel heavy on his tongue. Then he thinks back on how Katara had told him about Bato and her father, how she had told him lightly, like it didn’t matter that her father loved another man, like she was fine with it, and he decides to be brave. ”Because I don’t like girls that way.”

His heart is a sledgehammer in his chest as he says it, and he thinks he can taste blood in his mouth.

”Oh,” he hears Katara say over the thundering pulse in his ears. ”I didn’t know.”

Zuko shrugs, still not looking at her.

”I haven’t told anyone,” he says.

He’s aiming for flippant, but his voice sounds strained.

”Really? Not even your uncle?” Katara asks.

He shakes his head.

”Not even your sister?”

Zuko barks out a humorless laugh, and chances a look at Katara. She mainly looks… surprised.

”Definitely not Azula.”

Katara smiles at him then, wide and warm, and Zuko feels strangely light. He told someone, and the world didn’t end, the sky didn’t fall down. He told Katara, and it was fine.

”I’m glad you told me,” she says.” And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone else.” She scrunches up her nose. ”As long as you don’t tell anyone that I tried to kiss you.”

”You tried to do what?” comes Sokka’s shriek from nearby.

It turns out that Sokka only caught the tail end of the conversation, and Katara remains the only one to know Zuko’s secret. They manage to somewhat convince Sokka that nothing is going on between Zuko and Katara, although ”somewhat convinced” still entails a whole lot of suspicious looks sent Zuko’s way as they make their way back to the wolf cove, to get ready to greet the fire nation entourage.

Chapter Text

It’s been a weirdly quiet morning, with no kids around, no Noriko barging in with things she has to teach him, no Iroh making tea over the open flames. In a way he supposes it’s a taste of what’s to come, when the kids are old enough to move out, when it’ll be only him and Bato lounging around a cabin that already feels a bit too big. He supposes he’ll be sad, once he gets there, but this morning it just feels like a blessing, and like the calm before the storm.

He allows himself to sleep in with Bato, only rousing when the hunger gets too insistent to ignore. Breakfast is a slow and drawn out affair, punctuated by winding discussions of topics that interest both him and Bato, and pauses to kiss and touch and cuddle. They have decided that it’s best if Bato doesn’t stay in Hakoda’s cabin when the fire nation arrives. They haven’t exactly gone out of their way to keep their relationship a secret, even with Noriko breathing down their necks, to keep some semblance of normalcy amongst all the chaos, but they don’t want to risk this entire endeavor going south just because they can’t keep their hands off each other, so Bato will move into one of the temporary tents set up once the fire nation arrives. Which means this is the last time they will get to do this for at least a week, or however long their fire nation guests decide to take advantage of their hospitality. Neither Noriko nor Iroh seems to know for sure.

Bato has him crowded up against the table, leaning in to kiss him, when the kids barge in with their usual lack of decorum.

”Ew, dad,” Sokka exclaims as he heads directly for the cupboards where they keep the jerky and dried seaweed, even though Hakoda knows for a fact that he had packed enough food to feed a small battalion when they left.

”Hello to you too, Sokka!” Bato calls after him, stepping away from Hakoda.

”Hi Bato, hi, dad,” Katara greets, giving them both a brief hug.

”Hi, Katara,” Hakoda says. ”Did you have a nice time?”’

She smiles and nods.

”Yeah, it was great,” she says. ”But I’m so tired.”

”You have time for quick nap before the madness begins,” Hakoda tells her. ”But Noriko wants us all at the dock for the fire nation’s arrival, and I think her head will explode is anything goes wrong today so we better do as she wants.”

”Noriko needs to pull the stick out of her ass,” Sokka mutters.

Bato barks out a laugh.

”Sokka!” Hakoda exclaims.”Language!”

Sokka shrugs.

”What? It’s true.”

”It’s not,” Hakoda says.”Noriko is perfectly nice, she’s just a bit stressed.”

”If this is her a bit stressed then i don’t want to see what her ’very stressed’ looks like,” Sokka retorts, but before Hakoda can reply he has followed Katara into the bedroom, bag of dried seaweed in hand.

”He’s going to be a menace,” Hakoda sighs.

”You mean he isn’t already?” Bato says, starting to clear their breakfast off the table. ”I need to head out soon to pick up your chiefly slack, but, you know, I guess I’ll see you around.”

Hakoda feels a brief moment of panic at the thought of having to get through the coming week without Bato’s steadying presence at his side, but he squashes it down. This is difficult enough as it is.

He helps Bato put everything back in its place, and when they’re done he grabs Bato’s hand and pulls him in close.

”I love you,” he tells him.

”I know, Koda,” Bato says. ”But you’re not dying. We’ll see each other all the time, and they’ll leave within a week or two.”

”Still,” Hakoda says.

”Yeah, okay,” Bato concedes, allowing himself to get pulled into a kiss. ”I love you, too,” he tells him when they both come up for air. ”But I really, really need to go now. This entire chief business is tiring. You deserve a raise.”

”I don’t even get paid,” Hakoda laughs.

Bato kisses him briefly, then he leaves, and Hakoda is alone.

Hakoda has never been more grateful for Noriko and her relentlessness in teaching Hakoda everything there is to know about the traditions surrounding fire nation weddings than he is when he’s standing by the docks, flanked by his family and advisors as well as prince Zuko and general Iroh, staring up at the bridge slowly getting lowered down with an almost deafening screech of metal from the massive fire nation ship. It touches down with a heavy thud, and a small procession pours from the ships innards.

Noriko has drilled him in who everyone is and how to recognize them (mainly by their ridiculous outfits), and so he knows that the young fire nation girl ascending the bridge ahead of them all is princess Azula. She looks like her brother, only scarless and meaner, which is quite the feat, seeing how Zuko had sported a near constant scowl when he first arrived at the South Pole. She stops in front of Hakoda, offering a deep bow, and Hakoda replies with a bow of his own.

”Chief Hakoda,” she tells him. ”It’s a pleasure to meet my future brother-in-law.”

She sounds practically gleeful when she says it, and her gaze jumps to where Zuko is waiting next to Hakoda.

”Zuzu,” she greets with a curt nod and a wide smile. Hakoda supposes it must have been a nickname used as a term of endearment, once, but the way she says it now makes it sound like an insult.

”Azula,” prince Zuko replies, and that’s that. Azula is moving further down the line, greeting everyone with a bow.

Hakoda has gathered that the fire nation royal family is perhaps not one held together by love, but he had expected more from the royal siblings seeing each other for the first time in over six weeks. A hug, perhaps, if nothing else. But this seems to be it, then.

He has no time to dwell on it further, though, as he is faced with a line of fire nation dignitaries, trying to remember who is who, and if that ridiculous red hat means this man is a minister or a close advisor to the fire lord.

All in all, their first greetings go off without any major missteps, much to Noriko’s relief. She’s getting ready to take everyone to their lodging for their stay, when a woman who looks to be about Gilak’s age steps up, putting a hand on Noriko’s shoulder.

”Thank you very much for your services, handmaiden Noriko, but I’ll take it from here.”

A look off annoyance crosses over Noriko’s features, quickly covered by a polite smile.

”With all due respect, head maiden Asayo, I have spent weeks preparing for your arrival. I know my way around the wolf cove and the southern water tribe, and I…”

The older woman holds her hand up, and Noriko falls silent, bowing her head. It makes Hakoda irrationally angry. He knows Noriko is a servant, of course, but neither general Iroh nor prince Zuko have ever treated her as such, have never ordered her around or tried to put her in her place. Zuko’s repeated exasperation with her has seemed almost familial, and Iroh has served her tea in the same fashion he serves everyone else. Noriko has been the one to cook and clean for the fire nation royals, from what he’s gathered, but he has never really witnessed it. And he most definitely hasn’t ever seen Noriko look as subservient as she does now.

”I said that I will take it from here, handmaiden Noriko,” the older woman repeats, tone sharp.

”Of course, head maiden Asayo,” Noriko replies, with a deep bow.

And with that, the older woman, Asayo, replaces Noriko ahead of the procession, Noriko remaining where she is, head bowed. Hakoda starts to make his way over to her, but Bato beats him to it.

”Well, she seems like quite the bitch,” Hakoda can hear him mutter to Noriko, and she lets out a startled laugh, quickly schooling it into one of her placating smiles.

She falls into step with Bato, though, giving him a slight shove with her shoulder, and Hakoda feels a surge of affection for them both.

Hakoda falls into the back of the party together with Zuko, as Noriko had told him to, although he can’t really remember why, right now. Zuko’s is engaged in an intense staring match with the ground, as per usual, but he keeps up with Hakoda easily.

”Your sister sure seemed happy to see you, ” he tells the prince, keeping his voice low.

Zuko looks up at him in confusion.

”She didn’t…” he starts, then seems to notice Hakoda’s smile. ”Oh. It’s just how she is.”

Hakoda hums.

”Are you happy to see her?” he asks.

Prince Zuko shrugs.

”I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

The walk to the temporary camp set up for their guests is short, and then there is another flurry of polite bows as Hakoda, Noriko, Iroh and Zuko take their leave. A fire nation soldier follows them back to Bato’s cabin, and the undeniably military figure sets Hakoda on edge. Hakoda is about to take his leave back to his own cabin to join his children (who had been exempt from following the entourage to their lodging, once again for reasons that evade Hakoda), when Zuko speaks his name.

”Chief Hakoda!”

Hakoda pauses and turns back towards the prince. He looks nervous, but then again he almost always does when he’s addressing Hakoda directly. Zuko glances at the soldier standing guard next to the door to Bato’s cabin.

”I just wanted to…” He glances at the soldier again, taking a deep breath before bowing deeply to Hakoda. ”I just wanted to thank you,” he says, standing up again and looking Hakoda in the eyes. ”You have been kind to me.”

If Hakoda chokes up a bit at the prince’s admission, no one has to know. He’s not sure what possessed the prince to choose this moment, specifically, to make this admission, but he’s grateful for it. He hopes it means that Zuko’s stay here hasn’t been as terrible as Hakoda feared it would be. Hakoda puts his hands together in the greeting of the flame, and offers Zuko his own bow.

”No need to thank me, prince Zuko,” Hakoda says. ”I’ll see you tomorrow.”

- - - - -

Zuko is getting ready to settle in for the night, when there’s a knock on the door. It has been an exhausting kind of day. Meeting his sister and seeing his countrymen, some of whom he recognizes to be his father’s closest advisors, bearing their heavy looks upon him, knowing what they will probably say behind his back. Having to perform the first of the wedding rituals with Noriko and his uncle. Like the traditional pre-wedding bath, where he is supposed to cleanse of the touch of any lover come before his future spouse, which only served to remind him about the fact that he hasn’t even had his first kiss yet. The traditional combing of his hair, using the seven combs usually reserved for the bride, each representing a different virtue, performed by the head maiden, a stern woman Zuko hardly knows, rather than by Noriko’s soft hands. Noriko did get to braid his hair afterwards, though, braiding seven different flowers into his hair, all meant to bless the marriage to be. His hair had been a bit too short, hanging down to his shoulders rather than the waist-length traditionally worn by women about to marry in his nation, but Noriko had made due.

Now, all he wants is to go to sleep, to fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep, and to wake tomorrow to be wed to chief Hakoda, a man, twice his age, under the disdainful looks of fire nation nobles.

All hope of a peaceful night evaporates, though, as Noriko opens thee door to allow Azula to step into the cabin.

”Good evening, Zuzu,” she says with a smile s sharp as a razor. ”Good evening, uncle,” she greets Iroh with a small nod.

”Good evening, princess Azula,” uncle says. ”How delightful of you to join us. Would you like some tea?”

Azula shakes her head no.

”I won’t be long. I just wanted to make sure that the bride to be has everything he needs,” she says.

Zuko forces himself to remain passive. He knows from experience that Azula views every display of emotion from him as a victory.

”Everything has been seen to,” he tells her.

Her smile widens.

”I can see that,” she says. ”Nice braid, brother.”

He clenches his jaw. He detests Azula for her ability to get under his skin with just a few wayward words.

”What do you want, Azula?” he asks.

Azula walks around the cabin slowly, carefully inspecting it as she does.

”I can’t believe how backwards this village is,” she says. ”I’m surprised it’s survived as long as it has. One would have thought that a single raid from the fire nation would have crushed it completely.”

There is a threat in there somewhere, Zuko just isn’t sure what it is.

”The people of the southern water tribe are tenacious and fierce warriors,” uncle says. ”They are not to be underestimated.”

Azula reaches a hand out to let her fingers glide across a ceremonial spear mounted on the wall.

”I suppose not,” she says. ”Maybe their chief is actually worthy of marriage to a fire nation royal.”

Zuko is slightly taken aback. It almost sounds like Azula holds him in some sort of regard? She turns to Zuko again, that razor sharp smile back in place.

”He’s not entirely unassuming, is he? Chief Hakoda.” She laughs. ”But he sure is old. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe he’ll fall asleep early tomorrow night.”

Zuko knows what she is implying, and he hates himself for blushing, despite knowing that absolutely nothing but sleeping will happen tomorrow night.

”Are you done, Azula?” he asks her, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Azula shrugs.

”Sure,” she says. ”You should get some sleep. You have an important day ahead of you.”

And with that, she takes her leave.

Zuko could say he wakes up early the next morning, but he hasn’t really slept. His uncle is already up, and Zuko joins him in meditation, trying to ground himself in the familiarity of it all. Noriko wakes some time later, quietly going about her day, seeming to want to let Zuko be as long as she can. He appreciates it.

Eventually, though, she helps him get dressed in his wedding robes. Her hands are soft, as always, carefully making sure that every button is buttoned correctly, and that the silk rope is secured neatly around his waist. She unbraids his hair, placing the dried flowers next to Zuko as she does. Fire lily, rose, peony, silver wisteria. Zuko knows them all by heart by now. They represent longevity, luck, love, wealth. He picks up the fire lily, twisting it between his fingers as Noriko starts to twist his hair up into a more traditional top knot.

She reaches for the red and gold silk ribbon, the one representing fertility. Zuko reaches his own hand out, clasping lightly around Noriko’s wrist. She stills, looking surprised as her eyes meet his in the mirror. Zuko tries to remember if he’s ever touched her before. Probably not, he’s not good with touch, and a servant would never touch a member of the royal family unless they initiated it. He holds Noriko’s gaze in the mirror.

”Please,” he says.

She smiles sadly at him, but when he releases his grip she reaches not for the silk ribbon, but his usual black leather band, tying it around the top knot.

”You look nice, prince Zuko,” she tells him once she’s finished, and she softly touches her hand to his shoulder, once. He almost doesn’t tense under her touch.

He hears a knock on the door, hears his uncle open it to welcome chief Hakoda into the home of the bride the way tradition dictates. Zuko takes a deep breath.

- - - - -

Fire nation weddings are exhausting. Hakoda feels like a circus animal jumping through hoops as he moves through the rituals of it: the traditional walk to the house of the bride, the proving yourself worthy of her hand in marriage to her relatives by completing a set of seven of the most ridiculous tasks Hakoda has even done, including carrying Zuko on his back to the igloo to prepare the tea ceremony to prove that he has the strength to care for his bride or something equally as stupid. If this was a marriage forged out of love, he supposes it could have been nice, and he imagines Bato laughing his ass off as Hakoda carries his lanky body around on his back, or Kya giggling wildly into his ear if he would do the same to her. As it is, it’s just Hakoda giving the fifteen year old prince of the fire nation a piggy back ride, Zuko as awkward as ever and not even smiling.

Then he has to watch Zuko serve his mother tea so that she can welcome him into their family, while Hakoda does the same with general Iroh. He would find it all absurd even if he was to marry some fire nation noble women, but it takes on an almost surreal quality when he does it so that he can marry a fifteen year old boy against both of their wills, not really intending to honor any of the rituals he ’s performing.

The actual officiating of the wedding is rather straight forward, at least. Prince Zuko and Hakoda sit on cushions, facing their guests, the fire nation sage reciting his blessings of their union, painting the royal insignia on Hakoda’s right hand and the symbol of the wolf cove on prince Zuko’s left. The prince’s hand is sweaty and clammy as Hakoda grasps it in his, the only actual physical contact they’re required to have during this entire ceremony. They both cite that they enter this union willingly, which is a bit of a joke, given the circumstances.

With that, Hakoda is married to a fifteen year old boy.

The banquet is grand, all of the village has gathered, as well as their fire nation guests. Zuko and Hakoda sits alone at the bride and groom’s table, a cushion placed before them for the guests to sit down on to give their wishes of wellbeing. All of the fire nation guests sits there during some time during the night, offering traditional fire nation blessings that mean nothing to Hakoda but has the prince (his husband) tense up every time. None of the members of Hakoda’s tribe sits down, save for Bato who sits down to tell them they both look like their attending a funeral, and Kanna, who just reaches her hands forward to clasp over Hakoda’s and Zuko’s, offering them both a comforting smile.

The fire nation seems to have spared no expenses on this - sweet wine flows freely, and the food is plentiful and exotic, full of spices Hakoda can’t pronounce the names of. Sokka walks by, once, a glass of wine in one hand a plate filled to the brim with food in the other. Hakoda takes the wine from him, shooting him a stern look, but he sees him with another glass in hand not five minutes later.

Somewhere towards the end of the night, the fire nation princess sits down on the cushion with her sharp smile.

”Blessings to both of you,” she says. ”And congratulations on passing all of your trials, chief Hakoda.”

”Thank you,” he tells her, because she might give him the willies but that’s no reason not to be polite.

She reaches over the table to put her lips close to her brother’s ear, whispering something that makes the prince blush scarlet. She just leans back and laughs. The sound of a gong gong rings through the igloo, and Azula looks at them both with glee. Hakoda gets up, once again offering his hand to Zuko, who takes it. They move through the great hall in tandem, hands clasped, under the cheers and mocking smiles of the fire nation citizens. They’re escorted by a soldier to Hakoda’s cabin, all the way to Hakoda’s bedroom.

The bed is draped in red and gold silks, flower petals strewn across it, five candles lit by the bed. Hakoda knew it would be there, but it still makes something in his stomach clench uncomfortably. He quickly sweeps the silks and flower petals off the bed and onto the floor. The prince looks surprised by his actions.

”Sorry,” Hakoda says, a bit sheepishly. ”It just felt… wrong.”

Zuko offers him a weak smile. Hakoda doesn’t know what to do with his hands, doesn’t know what to do with any of this. The prince looks every bit as young as he actually is, in his delicately embroidered tunic and with his jet black hair tied up in a bun, his scar standing out starkly against his pale skin. Everything about it feels wrong.

”I’m sorry,” Hakoda offers, because it’s all he can do. ”You should never have had to go through with this.”

Zuko shrugs.

”It is what it is,” he says. ”And you didn’t choose this either.”

”Do you want to go to bed?” Hakoda asks.”It’s been a long day, you’re probably tired. I’ll sleep on the floor, I have an extra bedroll under the bed.”

Prince Zuko looks like he’s about to protest, but he closes his mouth and nods instead.

”There should be sleeping robes under the pillow,” Hakoda tells him, then turns around to give the prince some privacy. ”I really wish I could have you sleep in Bato’s cabin, or at least in Sokka’s and Katara’s room, but if I understood Noriko correctly there’s a guard placed directly outside the door?”

He inflects it like a question.

”To grant us privacy,” prince Zuko replies. ”And probably to make sure I don’t escape.”

Hakoda feels slightly sick.

”Well, that’s just great,” he mutters.

”I’m in bed,” Zuko tells him, and Hakoda turns around to find Zuko with the blankets drawn up to his chin, looking about as relaxed as a wooden plank. Hakoda doesn’t blame him.

He makes an executive decision not to change into his own night robes, opting instead to just fish the bedroll out from under the bed and climbing inside still in his ceremonial wedding clothes, only removing the jewelry. It seems fitting, somehow, and if the prince has any objections to Hakoda disgracing his traditions, he doesn’t voice them.

There’s silence for a long while, and Hakoda thinks the prince might have fallen asleep, when he hears him speak.

”Chief Hakoda?”

His voice is barely above a whisper.

”Call me Hakoda, please,” he says. ”We’re married after all.”

He hears a choked sound coming from the prince and winces.

”Sorry,” he says. ”Bad joke. Too soon. What is it you wanted?”

”You and Bato,” the prince begins, then falters slightly. Hakoda knows Katara told the prince about him and Bato, and he’s glad she did. He feels like Zuko should know.

”Yes?” he prompts, when it becomes obvious that Zuko is not going to continue voluntarily.

”Why aren’t you married?” Zuko asks finally.

”That’s… a complex question,” Hakoda says. ”But, as you might know, I’ve already been married.”

”To Katara’s and Sokka’s mother,” the prince says.

It’s getting a bit awkward directing answers at the ceiling, but Hakoda also knows there’s no way Zuko would have this conversation with him face to face, so he accepts it.

”Yes,” he said. ”And when she died, it just didn’t feel… right, to re-marry, I guess. Even though I love Bato very much and certainly wouldn’t mind being married to him.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and Hakoda thinks the conversation might be over.

”Did you love your wife?”

Zuko’s voice is even quieter now, and Hakoda has to strain his ears to catch the question.

”Yes I did,” he answers. ”Very much.”

”Oh,” Zuko says, and Hakoda finds the answer weird, until he turns it over in his head a few times.

”It’s possible to love both men and women, you know,” Hakoda says, holding his breath as he awaits Zuko’s answer, to find out if he has interpreted him correctly.

”Oh,” Zuko says again.

Hakoda decides to push his luck.

”Do you think that you… might like both men and women?” he asks the ceiling.

The silence stretches once again and Hakoda is almost sure he’s fucked up, when hears Zuko answer:

”No.”

Which, alright, maybe Hakoda isn’t as good at reading teenagers as he thought, maybe…

”Just boys,” Zuko continues, and holy spirits that makes Hakoda’s heart ache.

He keeps his tone light as he replies, though.

”Bato only likes boys, too,” he says, then pulls a face as he remembers the situation they’re presently in. ”Or, you know, men.”

He thinks he hears a quiet snort of laughter, but he’s not sure.

”Not that it matters, I just wanted you to know that… that it’s fine, you know. To be a boy and like boys, or both boys and girls, or just girls. It’s fine. It doesn’t many that you’re less of a man, or anything. It just… is,” he says, and he finds this all comes out rather less eloquently than he would have wanted, but he hopes Zuko gets what he’s trying to say.

”Okay,” comes Zuko’s faint voice from above, then: ”Good night.”

”Good night, prince Zuko,” Hakoda says.

A beat of silence and Hakoda is getting ready to go to sleep, when:

”You can just call me Zuko.”

Chapter Text

Zuko stares up at the ceiling. He is not really sure what times it is. The light filtering in through the curtain covering the small window could just as easily belong to early morning as to high noon. He guesses it’s early though, and that he hasn’t slept for long. Chief Hakoda is still sound asleep, light snores coming from the floor. Zuko’s lifts his left hand, inspecting the symbol painted there. It’s smudged from sleep, but the characters representing the wolf cove are still clearly visible.
He sighs, letting the hand fall to his side again.

His mind keeps flashing back to the looks his countrymen had sent him. Looks of disdain, of mocking. He’s used to them by now, he has received them ever since his father burned him, but that doesn’t mean they don’t weigh heavy on him. He has fulfilled the task his father set for him by sending him here, but he is still a disappointment.

He shifts his thoughts to the conversation he had with chief Hakoda right before sleep. It sets him on edge, still, but he knows Hakoda’s approval is genuine, and it feels good to have told him, despite everything. It makes Zuko feel lighter. He tries the thought of telling uncle, once the fire nation entourage has left the village, but even though he is more or less convinced that Iroh has already figured it out, the fear of rejection sits in the back of his throat like bile.

He sits up in bed, instead, careful to make as little sound as possible as he does, reaching over to the night stand to get his leather band, putting his hair into a top knot. He avoids looking at Hakoda’s sleeping form on the floor. For some reason it feels weirdly intimate to watch another person sleep. It’s rarely something shown to people outside the closest family.

He decides to meditate, shifting into sitting crosslegged on the bed, lighting the candles next to it quickly and quietly. He closes his eyes and breathes, feeling his inner fire attach itself to his soft in- and exhales after a while, moving in sync so that Zuko can sense the fire growing with each breath in, and shrinking with each breath out. Sometimes his inner fire fire feels like a living, breathing thing, at times threatening to consume him, while, at other times, feeling like a beast he has tamed to move quietly along with him. Right now, it’s the latter, and Zuko feels warm with it, a calm, soothing sort of warmth. He inhales again, letting the fire grow big, then exhales, letting it shrink back, enjoying how it adheres to his will, for once.

”Are you doing that?”

Zuko chokes on an inhale. He opens his eyes, spluttering, watching the candles flicker along with his coughs.

Hakoda is sitting up on the bedroll, still looking tired but also looking at the candles with interest. Zuko coughs one last time, extinguishing the candles with a wide sweep of his hand.

”Sorry,” he tells Hakoda. ”I didn’t mean to wake you.”

”You didn’t,” Hakoda replies. ”I’ve never seen a fire bender do that.” He sounds impressed. ”Granted, I haven’t really seen a fire bender done anything else than set things on fire, but still. That was impressive.”

Zuko’s cheeks heat, and he looks down at his hands.

”It’s just meditation,” he mumbles. ”It’s a way to, um, connect to your inner fire. Uncle taught it to me.”

Hakoda hums, and when Zuko looks at him he is still looking at the candles and the thin strands of smoke still rising from them. They’re interrupted by a set of frantic knocks on the door, and then the guard telling someone:

”The newlyweds are not to be disturbed.”

”I need to talk to my dad,” Katara’s voice comes through the door, and Hakoda quickly gets off the floor and walks over to the door. Zuko dives for the bedroll and shoves it under the bed. Hakoda looks at him in confusion for a second, before he catches up to what Zuko is doing.

”Oh, right,” he says. ”Good thinking.”

Hakoda opens the door, and Zuko can see Katara beyond him, hand raised, ready for another set of knocks.

”Katara,” he says. ”Is everything alright?”

”Sokka is sick,” she tells him. ”He threw up all over the floor and he says his head is trying to kill him.”

Hakoda quietly curses and pushes his way past Katara to heads towards his children’s bedroom, Katara close in tow. Zuko can see the guard peek into Hakoda’s bedroom with interest, startling as he’s met with Zuko’s glare, quickly closing the door behind him, leaving Zuko alone.

There is another knock on the door not much later, and this time the guard lets whoever it is in without question.

Noriko enters, carrying a tray of food. She looks around the bedroom, as if she expects Hakoda to be hiding somewhere.

”Where’s chief Hakoda?” she asks, carefully setting the tray down on the bed.

Zuko notices her take stock of the silks and flowers lying in a haphazard heap on the floor and the disarrayed sheets on the bed. Zuko knows what she is assuming and can’t help but blush.

”Sokka is sick,” he tells her.

She gives him an amused smile.

”That boy is not sick,” she says. ”Or, he might be, but it’s simply from too much wine.”

Zuko can’t help but smile at the mental image of Sokka hungover. He’s experienced it himself, once, when he had stolen a bottle of plum wine from the kitchen just to try it. It had been a horrendous experience, and he’d felt queasy simply from the smell of plum wine ever since.

”Have some breakfast, prince Zuko,” Noriko tells him.

Zuko sits down on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle the tray. There are plates piled high with fire nation delicacies on it, no doubt leftovers from yesterday’s banquet, and Zuko feels his stomach give an anticipatory rumble at the sight of it. He hadn’t had much appetite yesterday, but it’s returned now, and he plucks a small sausage from one of the plates and takes a bite.

Noriko has busied herself with picking up the silk sheets from the floor and folding them up neatly. She keeps stealing glances at Zuko.

Zuko finishes the sausage and grabs a pair of chopsticks, which he uses to pick up a dumpling and drop it into his mouth. He likes the water tribe food well enough, but Agni, has he missed spices that aren’t salt and brine.

”How are you feeling?” Noriko asks, voice measured, as she starts to gather the dried flowers from the floor.

Zuko pauses his eating to look at her.

”I’m fine,” he says, sensing that there is another question hidden beneath the one she’s asking, but unable to figure out what it is.

Noriko sits down on the edge of the bed as well, careful to keep an acceptable distance to Zuko, a habit obviously carefully crafted from years of working for the royal family. Though Zuko supposes that if she had been here with his sister instead, she probably wouldn’t have sat down at all. Azula would view it as insolence.

”Was everything alright, last night?” she asks him, plucking a dried petal from her gown, and Zuko suddenly knows what she’s asking, though he wishes he didn’t. He chokes on air.

”It was… it was fine, yeah,” he says, his voice breaking over the last word.

Noriko looks at him with a bland smile.

”I’m glad,” she says, and Zuko stupidly hopes that will be the last of it, but of course it isn’t. ”It can all be a bit… daunting, the first time, but it will get better, I promise.”

Oh spirits, Zuko does not want to talk about this, not with Noriko, not with anyone, does not want to even think about chief Hakoda in the same sentence as what Noriko is alluding to.

”Noriko,” he says, voice choked. ”Please, stop.”

She laughs.

”Oh you teenagers, always thinking you’re the first generation to discover sex,” she says, and Zuko really doesn’t believe that but he is also desperate for this conversation to be over.

Luckily, chief Hakoda chooses that moment to return.

”Tui and La, that boy will be the death of me,”he mutters, then pauses as he spots Noriko. ”Good morning, Noriko,” he greets her.

”Good morning, chief Hakoda,” she smiles. ”How is Sokka feeling?”

”Like he deserves,” Hakoda says. His eyes fall to the breakfast tray, and he makes his way over, snatching a bao bun from it. ”Stupid boy thought about six glasses of wine would be a good run for his first ever try of alcohol.”

Zuko snorts out a laugh at that, then promptly snaps his mouth shut, looking guiltily at Hakoda.

”Sorry,” he says.

Hakoda smiles at him, taking a bite of the bun.

”Don’t be,” he says. ”He went back to sleep, and Katara went to fetch Maliq. They have this concoction for occasions like this. It’s pretty vile, but it helps.”

”Maliq is here?” Noriko says, rising from the bed quickly, jostling the tray as she does, which causes a few sausages as well as a dumpling to roll off the bed, the dumpling hitting the floor with a muted splat, the sausages rolling all over. Noriko doesn’t seem to notice. Hakoda regards her with an amused smile.

”They should be here about now,” he tells her.

”Oh,” Noriko says, fussing with her braid. ”Well, I suppose I should leave you two alone,” she mumbles, and quickly exits the room. She steps back in a second later, offering both Hakoda and Zuko a deep bow before leaving again.

”I do believe Noriko might have a thing for our village healer,” Hakoda tells Zuko with a conspiratorial smile.

Ah. That would explain some things. Like the almost ridiculous amount of first aid supplies currently in Bato’s cabin. And the spells of headache Noriko seems to have suffered from the last two weeks, always magically better the second she leaves the healer’s tent. Zuko huffs out a laugh.

”Is Maliq… Do you think Maliq has a thing for Noriko as well?” he asks, then immediately scrunches his nose up when he realizes that his question strays close to gossip.

Hakoda doesn’t seem to mind though,

”Who knows,” he says. ”It would do Maliq good to find someone, though. They’ve been alone for too long.”

Hakoda picks up the food from the floor and drops it onto an empty plate. They eat in silence for a while. It’s awkward, but not as awkward as it used to be. When the plates are all but empty, Hakoda stands to stretch, yawning as he does.

”How long are we expected to stay in here?” he asks.

”For a week,” Zuko answers, looking at the chief. Shouldn’t he know that by now?

”Yeah, but, we’re allowed to leave the room, right?” he asks.

Oh.

”Yeah, I guess,” Zuko says. ”But we’ll be… expected to stay together, wherever we go. And, um, the guard will probably accompany us as well. That’s not a wedding thing, though.”

”Just a royal thing?” Hakoda guesses. Zuko nods. ”Seems like the kind of thing that could get old, fast.”

Zuko shrugs.

”It’s only when we’re in public, and I rarely left the palace.”

Hakoda pauses at that.

”Sounds like a rather sheltered and lonely existence, ” he comments.

Zuko shrugs again. It would look like that to an outsider, he supposes. And maybe it was. But…

”I didn’t really need to leave. I had everything i needed at the palace.”

It’s not the truth, not really, but it’s not untrue either. Zuko did grow up sheltered, never needing for any thing. As for the loneliness, it had been better when mother was alive. He had felt loved then, by her at least, and accepted. Azula had been more of a sister to him back then, as well, less of a competitor, despite his father constantly pitting them against each other. Everything had changed, of course, when mother disappeared. Zuko truly had been alone, then, not realizing until she was gone just how much of a protection she had offered against his father. The burn on his face would always be a testament to his father’s lack of love for him, but other marks fade with time.

He doesn’t want to tell Hakoda any of this, though, doesn’t want his pity, will take the sneering looks of his countrymen over that any day of the week. Hakoda doesn’t push it, changing the subject instead.

”How about we go for a walk?” he says. ”I could use some fresh air. We could have your uncle and Katara tag along, too, if you’d like?”

Zuko nods. He would very much like to get away from this room, and everyone’s assumptions about what they’re doing in here, as well.

”Well, I need to get out these spirits forsaken wedding robes,” Hakoda says. ”I think Noriko left some clothes outside the door for you. I’ll go change by the wash up-area.”

As he and chief Hakoda moves around the village, Katara, uncle and a guard in tow, Zuko realizes he’s not the only one receiving stares from his own countrymen. The ones chief Hakoda receive are different, more disapproving than disdainful, but undeniably there. They’re also more open. Zuko’s own countrymen have to act subservient to him, he’s still a prince no matter how disgraced he might be. Hakoda’s position, he has learnt, is not a birthright but an elected one, and any respect he receives is earned by actions, not bloodline.

Zuko suddenly realizes what Hakoda has sacrificed, going against the laws of his own country to marry a fire nation royal for reasons not apparent to his countrymen. Out of the corner of his eye Zuko sees an elder man with his gaze glued to the chief, open contempt on his face, spitting on the ground as the chief passes him by.

Hakoda’s posture straightens a fraction, but other than that he doesn’t react.

”Zuzu,” a voice comes from behind them. They all turn towards Azula, who is approaching them with a wide smile. ”Chief Hakoda,” she greets with a bow. ”I didn’t expect to see you out and about so soon.”

Hakoda offers her a bow of his own. Zuko knows what Azula is implying, and the chief probably knows as well, but he ignores it.

”Princess Azula, a pleasure to meet you again,” Hakoda says. ”Care to join us? I can show you around the village.”

”That would be lovely,” Azula says, and from her mouth the words sound sarcastic. He’s not sure the others notice, though, not having grown up next to her.

”Is there anything in particular you would like to see?” Hakoda asks her as they start moving forward.

”I heard rumors about warrior practice taking place today,” Azula says. ”Why don’t you show me that?”

It’s phrased like a question but it is a command, not leaving room for Hakoda to refuse. To his credit, the chief only hesitates for a brief moment.

”Of course. Right this way.”

The warriors train in their own compound just south of the village. Zuko has never been there, but he knows pretty much all of the adult men in the village, and the villages close to the wolf cove, are expected to engage in warrior practice on regular intervals. Even though the war ended over a year ago, Zuko has never questioned that. In the fire nation, everybody is expected to go through military training, and he can’t think of a reason why it would be any different here.

There are about fifty men dispersed throughout the compound, which is basically just a wide stretch of land surrounded by a ramshackle stone wall. When the chief enters with his fire nation guests in tow, there is a moment where the clanging of swords and the dull thud of clubs colliding quiet down. It picks up again quickly, though, and Hakoda greets Bato and-the-advisor-who-is-not-Bato with that forearm grasp that seems to be the traditional way of greeting in the water tribe.

”Chief Hakoda,” Not-Bato says, shooting Azula a glance just short of hostile. ”You should have told us you were bringing guests.”

”We just happened to run into princess Azula, and she wanted to attend the practice,” Hakoda explains.

Azula is standing next to the field, hands on her back, taking in the scene before her with rapt attention. Because Zuko has been trained in battle alongside her, he sees what she sees. He sees the outdated weapons, heavy and basic, how they make their bearers clumsy, but also the brute force behind it as a blow lands. He observes the hand-to-hand combat, and how the warriors move, how they are able to shift their weights around to use the opponents forward momentum to their own advantage, getting them off-balance.

Fire nation soldiers are often lighter on their feet, using swiftness to land blows rather than power. He’s seen earth kingdom soldiers soldiers in combat as well, how they’re heavy and grounded, keeping their centre of gravity low to the ground, solid in the face of oncoming attacks. Water tribe soldiers are somewhere in between, he notices, obvious force and power behind their moves, but they’re also fluid, constantly moving to force their opponent to move with them.

He also realizes that all of their fighting is close range, and would be no match for a fire bender who can attack from afar. Zuko is cataloguing it all, and he knows his sister is as well. He notices chief Hakoda watching them both with a frown on his face, then turning his attention to his soldiers.

”At ease, men!” he calls to them, and the fighting seizes at once. ”Good work! As you can see, we have a few guests joining us today. Princess Azula from the fire nation wanted to see our soldiers in action, so how about we treat her to a duel?”

The men line up in a ten-by-five formation in front of the chief.

”Kavik and Makittuq,” the chief calls out, and two men who seems to be in their early twenties step forward.

One of them is carrying a club that looks like the one Bato sometimes has strapped to his back as he is leading the warrior drills in Hakoda’s stead, the other carrying a large axe. The other men file out, clearing a wide semi circle around the chosen warriors. Hakoda steps forward, leaning in close to the two men and telling them something in a voice too low for Zuko to pick up, but both of them give him a curt nod. Hakoda goes to stand next to Zuko and Azula, and the two men shifts into fighting stances.

”Kavik and Makittuq are among our best warriors,” Katara whispers to Zuko. ”So this should be interesting.”

The two men start off, weapons clanging together as they both make their first move, and while it’s an impressive show, something is off about it. Gone are the fluid, almost wave-like movements that Zuko had observed earlier, given way to quick bursts where they’re charging at each other, weapons colliding in heavy swings, before drawing back, both of them stepping back a few paces before launching another attack. They’re no longer constantly moving, trying to catch the other off balance, but rather just attacking each other again and again, fierce power behind their blows, sure, but none of the finesse from earlier left.

Zuko chances a glance at Hakoda, but the chief is watching the fight unfurl with sharp focus. Then it dawns upon Zuko: they’re doing it on purpose. Hakoda must have told them to use this other form of fighting as to not give too much away to Azula (and maybe himself and his uncle as well. Zuko knows that Hakoda is a trusting man, but he’s no idiot. It’s unwise to give away your battle secrets to the enemy). If Zuko has realized this, then Azula surely has as well, but she doesn’t say anything, watching the two warriors closely. In the end, the man with the club is bested by the man with the axe, as he looses his grip on his weapon by just a fraction, allowing his opponent to push forward by the smallest of steps, forcing him off balance and then delivering the final blow as he sweeps the legs out from under him, in a display that more resembles the fighting from earlier.

Azula claps, startling the two warriors, who quickly turn toward her and bow.

”Impressive,” Azula says. ”It’s a pity you don’t have any benders among you, I would very much like to test my strength against a water bender from the southern water tribe.”

Zuko can feel Katara shift behind him, and prays she won’t do anything to reveal herself. Azula steps forward into the semi circle.

”As it is, I guess I’ll just have to make due,” she says, looking directly at Zuko. ”Zuzu, how about it? Do you want to show these people how it’s done in the fire nation?”

Zuko is acutely aware of every set of eyes in the compound turning towards him at once, but he forces his gaze to stay steady on Azula. He is reminded of every time their father used to pit them against each other, force them to fight for his own amusement, Azula always coming out victorious. He knows there is no way he can beat her, but he also knows there is no way he can refuse.

”Sure,” he says.

He steps forward, and her smile sharpens as he pulls his parka over his head, handing it to his uncle. The water tribe warriors surrounding them look both wary and intrigued. Zuko realizes they probably haven’t experienced fire bending outside of the raids the fire nation launched on their tribe. It makes him uncomfortable, but he can’t back out now. Azula unties the fur she’s wearing over her shoulders like a cape and carelessly throws it to the side.

”I realize you’re probably a bit rusty, dear brother, so I’ll go easy on you,” she says.

”Don’t bother,” Zuko replies, dropping into a fighting stance.

He doesn’t get any warning before blue fire is erupting towards him, but he knows his sister, knows her signature moves, and dodges it easily, dodging once more as he she sends another blast to cut off the path in the direction he’s heading. Years of fighting Azula, who is far superior when it comes to raw force and bending prowess, has made Zuko agile and light on his feet, and the matches he has come closest to winning are the ones where he’s been able to evade her for long enough for her to tire herself out. It’s become harder and harder to do so, though, as bending seems to come as easily to her as breathing these days, and so it doesn’t require the same energy exertion from her as it used to.

He sends a blast of fire her way in a wide arc with a sweep of his left foot, but she disperses it easily and Zuko has to dodge again as fire rushes past his left ear. His sister knows that both his eyesight and his hearing had been dampened when father had burned him, and so she always favors attacking his left. In a way, it has helped him compensate for the loss of some of his senses, always having to be aware of what he’s lacking on his left side, learning how to use what little he has left of both eyesight and hearing to sense attacks before they’re fully realized.

He manages to punch a few fire balls her way before he has to dodge again, this time dropping to the ground and rolling to avoid an especially aggressive blast of fire hitting him square in the face. He sends another sweep of fire her way as he gets off the ground, and this time she actually has to move away from it rather than dispersing it, leaping gracefully in the air, twisting to deliver a kick that blasts blue fire in his direction.

Zuko has already moved again, though, a quick kick and a punch forcing her to leap once again to avoid his fire. He moves closer to her, tries to get within hand-combat range. Azula isn’t bad at hand-to-hand combat, she’s not bad at anything, but Zuko hopes to catch her by surprise to get her off balance. He has no such luck, though, as she lands in a graceful crouch, sweeping her foot out at his legs, forcing Zuko to jump as to not get tripped, which forces him off balance. He steps back a few paces, shifting into another bending stance but it’s too late. He manages to twist, and the blast of fire hits him in the shoulder rather than the chest, but it still sends him tumbling to the ground hard enough to knock the air out of him.

”Zuko!”

Katara is at is his side in moments, reaching out to touch him, but he twists away from her hands.

”I’m fine,” he pants.

And he is. His shoulder stings and he’s banged up his ribs in a way that will probably leave him with bruises and soreness tomorrow, but it’s nothing, really. Azula didn’t hit him full force, she didn’t need to.

He looks at her now, standing a few paces away from him, stance relaxed, barely out of breath, eyes shining with her victory. She tuts.

”You’ve been slacking off, Zuzu,” she says. ”It used to take me longer than this to beat you.”

Zuko sits up, winching as he does. Katara still hovers, but she doesn’t try to touch him again, settling instead for glaring at Azula. Chief Hakoda steps forward.

”That was an… interesting display,” he says. ”But I think it’s time for me and the prince to make our way back.”

Zuko stands up, letting out a small hiss of pain as he does, hand coming up to curl protectively over his ribs. Bato steps close.

”You alright, kiddo?” he asks.

Zuko nods. He walks over to uncle, trying to keep the limp out of his step, holding a hand out for his parka. Uncle hands it to him.

”You did good,” he tells him.

Zuko opts for not putting the parka on, not wanting to aggravate his bruised ribs further, just leaving it slung over this arm.

”No, I didn’t,” he says.

Once back at the cabin, chief Hakoda manages to convince the fire nation soldier to stand guard by the front door rather than the bedroom, which means they won’t have to stay cooped up in the bedroom, at least. Sokka is by the fire, looking miserable. He takes notice of Zuko’s limp, though.

”What happened to you?” he asks, and his voice is slightly raspy.

”My sister,” he tells him. ”What happened to you?” he retorts.

Sokka sticks his tongue out at him.

”What do you mean, ’your sister’?” he asks, ignoring Zuko’s question.

”Nothing,” Zuko grumbles, but Katara answers in his stead, voice eager enough that she’s almost tripping over the words as she speaks.

”Oh, Azula challenged him to a fight and it was so cool, they were shooting fire at each other and Zuko was dodging her every blow and Azula has this blue fire which I’ve never seen before, and she won.”

Zuko makes a face at her, and she at least has the decency to look slightly bashful.

”I can’t believe I missed a jerk bending fight,” Sokka groans in disappointment.

”Well, maybe you have learned your lesson then,” Hakoda tells his son, and Sokka looks a bit sheepish at that. ”How’re your ribs and your shoulder?” Hakoda directs at Zuko.

”Fine,” he says.

”Can I have a look?” Hakoda asks.

”I said it’s fine,” Zuko says, with maybe a little more force than he had intended.

Chief Hakoda sighs.

”Then at least let me send for Maliq,” he says. ”They have this salve that will diminish the bruising and relieve some of the pain.”

”I don’t need it,” Zuko scoffs. ”It’s nothing.”

And it is. All his bones are whole, he’s not bleeding, Azula hadn’t even burned him. He’s fine.

”Look at it as a favor to Noriko, then,” Hakoda tries.

”….Fine.”

In the end, the salve is rather nice.

- - - - -

Hakoda would have thought that the little fire bending fight between Zuko and his sister would have been peak mishap, but he was sorely mistaken.

The ’seven days of love making’ are soon coming to and end, and Hakoda is relieved. Granted, it hasn’t been as bad as it could have been, since Hakoda had sent the fire nation soldier to stand guard outside the cabin, meaning he could at least relax somewhat in his own home and that Zuko didn’t have to be cooped up with only Hakoda as company, but instead could spend some time with Sokka and Katara (they still had to spend way too much time in the bedroom for Hakoda’s liking, to keep up appearances, and playing pai sho had gotten old within the first two days, seeing how none of them really had any interest in it).

They have been out for a walk almost every day, but that’s not really relaxing, seeing how they’re constantly followed around by at least one fire nation soldier, and run the risk of running in to Zuko’s less than pleasant sister, plus Hakoda having to bear the disapproving stares of his own townsfolk. So, yeah. Everything about this has been less than ideal, and he feels like he’s going crazy.

He’s also barely seen Bato in the last six days. Which shouldn’t be that big a deal, they’ve gone longer without seeing each other in the past, but something about this entire situation, something about having to play out the role of newly wed with prince Zuko, has Hakoda craving that particular brand of solidness that only Bato brings to his life.

So, when Bato shows up at the cabin to ask for Hakoda’s input in a matter concerning the council of elders, Hakoda can’t help himself. Zuko is off with Katara and Sokka in their room doing whatever teenagers do when they’re free of their parents, and Bato just looks soft and entirely too good, standing in Hakoda’s home for the first time in days, cheeks pink from the cold, wearing a sleeveless tunic (Hakoda has always had a thing for Bato’s arms - strong and slender, skin smooth, the black band of a tattoo encircling his left bicep).

Hakoda is a weak, weak man, and he only has so much willpower left to spare. He grabs Bato’s arm, pulls him into the bedroom, pushes him up against the wall and kisses him. And because of that, because he’s distracted by Bato’s arms and his lips, he forgets to close the bedroom door. And because they’re both distracted, reveling in finally getting to touch after several, strange days of being kept apart, none of them hear Noriko enter the cabin. None of them hear her soft footsteps, trained for years as she is in making herself blend into the background, making sure to never draw any attention to herself unless called upon. And so they notice her only when she’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom, letting out a sharp:

”What is going on here?”

Hakoda withdraws, turning towards her and the look on her face fills him with dread. She is not smiling, but rather looks furious, and it’s a look he has never seen on her face before.

”Noriko…” he starts, but he doesn’t know what to say.

”Where is the prince?” she asks.

”He’s with the kids in their bedroom,” Hakoda answers.

Noriko immediately turns and stalks towards the closed door. Hakoda follows her, feeling helpless and distinctly like it’s all going to go to shit. Noriko doesn’t knock, just bangs the door open. The three teenagers are sitting cross-legged on the floor, seemingly engrossed in some kind of card game.

”We’re leaving, prince Zuko,” she tells the fire nation prince.

He looks at his servant in confusion.

”Why?” he asks.

Noriko sends a furious glance in Hakoda’s direction.

”Because the chief has made it very clear that he has no intention of honoring his marriage to you.”

Zuko directs his confusion at Hakoda instead.

”Bato is here,” Hakoda offers in way of explanation, and Zuko’s glance cuts to Bato standing behind him. His eyes widen in understanding. He gets up from the floor, turning back to Noriko.

”What exactly are you going to do?” he asks her.

”Well, since the chief has not upheld his end of the agreement, I believe we must immediately let general Iroh and princess Azula know what has happened. They can decide what happens from there.”

She turns and starts walking towards the door, without a backwards glance at Hakoda. Her shoulders are stiff, her back ramrod straight. Zuko stands still for a second, then startles into action, scrambling to catch up with her. Hakoda follows his lead.

”Noriko, please,” Hakoda says. ”if you would just let me explain…”

Noriko turns towards him, then, and her eyes are almost black with rage.

”What is there to explain, chief Hakoda? You’ve obviously deceived us, deceived the prince, when he has done nothing but fully commit himself to this arrangement.”

She turns around again, and she’s almost at the door.

”Noriko!”

There is something wild in Zuko’s voice, something reminiscent of a cornered animal of prey. It has Noriko pause and turn towards him. Prince Zuko seems to meet her gaze for a second, before he falls to his knees at her feet, touching his forehead to the floor in a display of complete defeat and deference.

”Prince Zuko?” she says, voice thick with confusion.

”Please,” Zuko tells her, still bowed. It breaks something within Hakoda. ”Please do not tell my sister. If I return to the fire nation… Please Noriko, he will kill me. You know he will.”

Hakoda hears a gasp behind him, and turns to find Katara and Sokka standing behind him, eyes on the fire nation royal bowing down to a servant, begging her not to send him to his death.

”Who will kill you?” Noriko asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Zuko sits up, looking up at her.

”My father,” he says, his voice desperate. ”My father will kill me.”

”I…” Noriko starts, but she doesn’t get to finish.

The door bangs open and the soldier standing guard outside comes barging in.

”I heard a commotion,” he tells them. ”What is…”

He pauses, taking in the scene. The fire nation prince, bowed down before his handmaiden, the rest of them just looking on in silence.

”What in Agni’s name,” he says.

”Prince Zuko, please get up,” Noriko urges.

Zuko looks at the guard, and Hakoda can see his eyes clearly now, can see the fear in them. This is bad. He knows all of the guards answers directly to Azula. This guard can probably not make sense of the scene before him, but whatever he tells the princess can mean nothing good for Zuko, or the entire charade they’ve been trying to keep up over the last few weeks. His mind scrambles and then suddenly latches onto something resembling a plan.

Hakoda has seen the way princess Azula interacts with her brother, has seen how she taunts him, often using the marriage between Hakoda and Zuko to do so, although only in allusions vague enough to be ambiguous. He has an idea of what kind of display might placate her.

He takes a step forward, silently willing Zuko to forgive him for what he’s about to do.

”The young prince tried to escape me,” Hakoda tells the guard, letting his voice slip into his chief tone.

He walks over to Zuko, grabbing him by the collar of his robes and hauling him upright. He can feel the prince’s entire body tense up as he does, and it almost makes him falter. But he needs to keep this up, needs to sell this. His shifts his grasp so that he’s now got a hold on Zuko’s neck, firm but hopefully not enough to hurt him.

”Begging your handmaiden for help isn’t going to do you any favors, boy,” he tells Zuko, and his voice sounds foreign to his own ears, sneering and disdainful. He looks at the guard. ”I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own, though. You can return to your post.”

The guard still looks confused, but he recognizes a command when he hears one, and offers a small bow. Hakoda doesn’t wait to see him leave, instead turning around, pushing Zuko in front of him towards the bedroom. Zuko stumbles along, compliant in a way that sends chills down Hakoda’s spine. He gets him inside the bedroom with a final shove, closing the door behind them.

He releases his grip on Zuko the moment they’re alone, and Zuko just stands there for a moment. His eyes are vacant and something about his whole being just seems off. Hakoda takes a step towards him, hesitant, and that seems to spring the boy into action, scrambling away from him so quickly he trips over his own feet, curling in on himself on the floor, holding his arms up in front of him as if he’s expecting Hakoda to strike him. Hakoda hears commotion form outside the room, and silently prays that no one will enter the bedroom. They still need to keep a low profile to not arouse further suspicion. His prayers seem to have been answered when he can hear Bato harshly hush the inhabitants of the main room, and quiet follows.

He takes another hesitant step towards Zuko, but the boy makes a sound like a wounded animal and just curls in on himself further. His breathing is coming out in harsh, panicked pants and Hakoda’s entire being aches for the boy in front of him.

”I’m so sorry,” he tells Zuko, because he doesn’t know what else to do. ”I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Zuko doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge Hakoda’s presence, eyes screwed shut as he seems more focused on forcing air down his lungs than whatever’s going on around him. Hakoda takes a few steps back, then sits down on the floor, as far away from Zuko as the tiny room will allow. He feels like crying, feels like he’s broken whatever fragile trust had started to build between them, but Zuko really doesn’t need Hakoda pitying himself right now. So instead he just sits, and waits. Eventually, the tension drains from Zuko’s body, and his breathing evens out somewhat. Hakoda leans forward a little, but other than that doesn’t move closer to Zuko.

”Are you with me?” he asks.

Zuko sits up a bit straighter, opening his eyes but avoiding Hakoda’s gaze. He nods.

”I’m sorry,” he rasps out.

Tui and La, this boy is broken.

”You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about,” Hakoda tells him, careful to keep his voice calm. ”I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

”You kind of had to,” Zuko replies.

He manages to sit up completely, resting his back against the wall opposite from Hakoda, drawing his knees up towards his chest and winding his arms around them, hugging them close.

Hakoda wants to protest. He didn’t have to do anything, the plan was spur of the moment, may not even have been the best course of action but it was what came up. He still had no right to treat Zuko like that. But he also knows it will do him no good to argue with Zuko about it right now.

”Still,” he says, instead. ”I’m sorry.”

Zuko shrugs, and Hakoda feels like crying again, for this boy who’s obviously learnt that what he feels about things doesn’t matter. Zuko casts him a quick glance.

”Do you think Noriko will tell Azula?” he asks, voice thick with fear.

Hakoda shakes his head.

”Bato won’t let her,” he says, and he’s absolutely sure of this. ”He will make sure she keeps quiet until your sister and the other fire nation officials leave, and then we’ll talk to her.”

”He won’t hurt her, will he?” Zuko asks, and it tugs at Hakoda’s heartstrings the way Zuko still finds it in himself to care for the handmaiden in all of this, misguided as his worries might be.

”Bato couldn’t hurt a fly,” Hakoda tells him. ”He’s all bleeding heart, but that also means he gets very protective of the people he cares about, so he’ll convince Noriko not to talk.”

Zuko looks confused.

”Bato cares about me?” he asks.

”Of course he does,” Hakoda says. ”We all do. Noriko does too, I think she thought she was protecting you by telling your sister about me being, you know, not very good at honoring the sanctity of marriage.”

Zuko closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the wall, but there’s a small smile on his lips.

”Yeah, maybe don’t make out with your boyfriend in front of the fire nation spy next time,” he tells Hakoda and Hakoda barks out a surprised laugh.

He’s pretty sure that’s the first time Zuko has attempted a joke with him, and one at his expense, at that. He doesn’t tell the prince this though, doesn’t want to make him feel self conscious.

”I’ll keep that in mind,” he says instead.

Zuko keeps his eyes closed, and Hakoda takes a moment to study the prince, eyes falling on the scar covering half of his face. Back when Hakoda was young, some of the men from his village had joined the war. And some of them had come back, but they were changed. Battle fatigue, they had called it, the way they all seemed constantly vigilant, flinching at loud noises, sometimes lost in memories that seemed to flood their minds like they were back in battle, their eyes unfocused. The smallest things could set them off, like a flash of red and gold or the way the fire flared up when it was first lit, things that reminded them of the horrors they had seen.

Hakoda assumes that someone like Zuko have other things that trigger them. Like physical touch, or a father figures perceived anger.

The men that returned from the war had all moved from the wolf cove to escape the raids and the constant reminders of war. He had been told that the fear in them had subdued somewhat, as the distance to what they had been through grew, as new experiences overwrote old memories. But they had never quite gone back to how they once were.

Hakoda knows he can’t be the one to help Zuko through this. But he thinks that maybe his children can, by just treating Zuko the way they would any other kid their age. It makes him feel hopeful.

Chapter Text

Zuko recognizes the man at the door as one of father’s ministers from the war council. He can’t help the dread that lodges itself in his throat as he overhears the minister asking Hakoda and Zuko to join him in a meeting with Azula. His sister and the others from the fire nation are leaving tomorrow, why would they need a meeting now? Then he realizes: Noriko has told his sister.

He hasn’t seen Noriko these last couple of days, hasn’t really seen anyone other than the chief and Sokka and Katara, all of them being too shaken up by almost getting found out to dare do anything other than staying cooped up in the cabin, keeping up appearances until Azula and the others take their leave.

Chief Hakoda has been very careful around Zuko since it happened, keeping a respectful distance to him, making sure not to touch him or in any way venture into his personal space. Zuko’s grateful for it. He knows why the chief did what he did, and he actually thinks it was quick thinking on his part, but that still doesn’t mean he’s not more wary around the older man now. He knows Hakoda didn’t hurt him in any real sense, but the memory of his hand clamped firm around his neck is enough.

Katara has been stuck to his side like glue these last few days, and Zuko couldn’t really figure out why until she had asked him if his father would actually kill him if he returned to the fire nation. It’s weird, suddenly having people around him who care about his wellbeing, other than uncle. Even Sokka seems to have been shaken up about it, treating Zuko with uncharacteristic care, which, in all honesty, has Zuko annoyed. He preferred when Sokka was throwing sarcastic comments his way, making fun of his ineptness in even the most basic, practical tasks. Zuko does not like being pitied.

Zuko had let himself believe what Hakoda had told him, about Bato being able to make sure Noriko kept her mouth shut, but now he realizes how naive he’s been. Noriko had told Azula, because, when push came to shove, of course her loyalty towards the fire nation and the fire lord was greater than whatever fondness she might feel for Zuko. It was stupid of him to believe otherwise. She is a spy, for spirit’s sake, chosen by his father for this particular mission.

Zuko gets up from his seat on the floor and looks at the minister.

”Then we should not keep my sister waiting.”

The minister leads them over to Bato’s cabin, which surprises Zuko. He’s even more surprised to see his uncle waiting inside, along with Azula. Noriko is nowhere to be seen, but he supposes there really isn’t any need for her to be here if she’s already told Azula everything.

”Good evening,” Azula greets them, gesturing for them both to sit down across from her at the table. The minister takes a seat next to Azula. Uncle remains standing. Zuko chances a quick glance in uncle’s direction, but his gaze is fixed on Azula.

”We’ll make this quick.”

It’s the minister who speaks up, not Azula, which also surprises Zuko. The minister, a tall, thin man with a graying goatee, reaches into a satchel and draws out a piece of paper. Zuko’s eyes furrow in confusion. The paper is official looking, the royal insignia stamped at the top. It looks like a contract, of sorts, but why would they need a contract to send him back to the fire nation?

The minister lays the paper out on the table, smoothing out the edges. Zuko tries to read it, but can only make out a few words before the minister calls his attention back to him again.

”In moving to the South Pole and marrying chief Hakoda, the firelord sees no feasible way that prince Zuko will be able to fulfill his duties as crown prince and heir to the throne,” the minister explains, quick and to the point, He turns the paper around so that it faces Zuko. ”He asks you to sign this contract, relinquishing your claim to the throne, so that right may instead befall princess Azula.”

It feels like a slap to the face. Zuko’s eyes drift over to his sister, who is watching him calmly, but with something akin to a challenge in her eyes. She knew. Of course she did. She knew all his time and she kept it from Zuko until the last minute because of… what? To gloat?

Zuko’s not an idiot, regardless of what his father and sister seem to think. He knows father would rather see Azula on the throne, he has realized that some variation of this would probably eventually come to pass, but now? Here? And why do they need him to sign anything? His father is perfectly capable of stripping him of his birthright as he see fit.

”I don’t see why I have to sign this,” he says, gesturing towards the contract. ”If firelord Ozai wants Azula to take the throne, then surely he can just appoint her the heir.”

He tries to keep his voice even, hoping Azula won’t notice the slight tremble it carries. Azula smiles and leans forward on her elbows.

”It wouldn’t be the best look, would it? The fire lord taking away the birthright of the first born for no discernible reason,” she says. ”It’s better if you give it up freely.”

Oh. It’s all about it looking good, as always. Of course his father couldn’t have it seem like it was him who wanted Zuko out of the way. No, it would look better if Zuko, being the disgrace that he is, voluntarily gave up his claim to the throne. Zuko knows the fire nation citizens had been disapproving when his grandfather had stripped uncle of his birthright on his death bed. But firelord Azulon had been dead by the time Zuko’s father stepped into power, and nothing could be done about it. Ozai will have to face his people’s dissatisfaction if he does the same.

”And what if I refuse?” Zuko asks.

The minister looks down his nose at him.

”Then you will face banishment.”

There it is. Willingly abdicate, or never be able to return to the fire nation again. Zuko clenches his jaw. It’s his father’s final attempt to strip him of all honor, as if burning him, sending him to the other side of the world, marrying him off to a man wasn’t enough.

It doesn’t hit Zuko until this moment that part of him has held out hope that he would somehow prove himself worthy in his father’s eyes, prove that he is honorable, that he is someone who deserves respect, deserves… love. Because that’s it, isn’t it? It was never about being a prodigious bender or a perfect prince. It was about Zuko harboring this futile, pathetic hope that his father would, some day, love him. But firelord Ozai will never, never, love Zuko, will never see him as anything other than a disappointment.

He can feel Hakoda shift beside him, and he realizes that he’s stayed silent for a bit too long.

”Banishment seems excessive,” Hakoda says. ”Surely, there is some other way…”

Zuko snatches the brush out of the ministers hand, dipping it in ink and signing his name at the bottom of the paper. He looks up at the minister once he’s done, meeting his gaze head on.

”Are we done here?” he asks.

”Zuko,” he hears uncle speak up from behind him, but he silences him with a glare.

He’s tired of people pitying him. He gets up from his chair, ready to leave, as Azula starts talking.

”Actually, I would like to speak to my brother alone,” she says.

She’s not asking permission. Azula rarely does.

”Of course,” Hakoda says, getting up from his chair.

Zuko can see the worried glance he sends in his direction before he exits the cabin, the minister in tow. Uncle hesitates for a moment. He looks sad.

”It’s fine, uncle,” Zuko tells him, tone harsh.

At that, uncle leaves as well. Zuko turns towards his sister, who’s still seated across from him. She swings her legs up onto the table, leaning back in her chair and fixes her gaze on Zuko with a smile.

”Father wasn’t sure you’d go through with it,” she tells him.

Zuko blinks at her in confusion for a second, before catching himself and letting his features settle into a scowl again.

”He was convinced uncle would try to make a run for it, with you,” she says. ”Agni knows the old fool is sentimental enough to do it.”

Zuko keeps the scowl in place, careful to not relay to Azula that that was exactly what uncle had planned to do, at first.

”What would have happened if he did?” he asks.

Azula brings a hand up to her face, inspecting her fingernails.

”I would have chased you both to the end of the world,” she says, tone light. ”And father would probably have had this sad excuse for a village burned to the ground.”

The thought of it sends chills down Zuko’s spine. Katara, Sokka, chief Hakoda, Kanna, all of them killed, wiped out, because of him. No, he corrects himself. Not because of him. Because his father had sealed Zuko’s fate for him and could not tolerate insubordination.

Azula looks from her nails to Zuko.

”I’m glad you didn’t,” she says. ”Chasing you and uncle halfway across the globe would have been such a bother.”

There are moments when Zuko thinks that Azula might not be entirely indifferent to him, when she casually lets something slip that makes Zuko suspect that maybe she cares, or at least could care, in a parallel universe where their father wasn’t a tyrant. It’s never stated outright, of course, and often ”good thing I won’t have to kill you because that would be such a chore” is the best he gets. Or maybe she actually cares so little about him that she would consider chasing him down a menial task. Zuko will never be sure.

”I’m sure you will be happy here,” she says. ”Though a little bird sung to me that chief Hakoda can be quite… dominant. So you better make sure to keep him happy, brother dear.”

And just like that, Azula quickly clears up all pretenses of caring about Zuko. Zuko doesn’t say anything, only offering her a sardonic smile. At least Hakoda’s act seems to have her fooled.

”Congratulations on becoming crown princess,” he tells her instead, offering her a bow.

Her smile warps into something almost predatory.

”Well,” she says. ”Thank you.”

Zuko makes his leave. There is no guard outside, to his surprise, and instead of making his way to Hakoda’s cabin he lets his feet carry him out of the village, across the tundra.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he sees a figure approach him in the distance. The sun is hanging low on the horizon, so Zuko knows it’s late, at least. He’s been crying. It had just come over him, these loud, heaving sobs tearing themselves from his body without his permission. He had tried to subdue it but in the end he could do nothing but wait for it to pass. He realizes he hasn’t cried since before coming here, since when he’d first learnt of his fate back in the palace. The crying stopped some time ago, but Zuko feels wrung out, his breath still trembling slightly as he inhales.

He’s up on the small hill where he and Katara and Sokka went camping just a little over a week ago, and he half expects Katara to be the one to have found him, but when the figure comes closer he realizes it’s Sokka, slowly making his way up the hill. He stops next to Zuko, flinging himself on the ground next to him unceremoniously, slightly out of breath from the uphill climb.

”Everyone is looking for you,” he tells Zuko.

Oh. Zuko hadn’t considered that people might actually worry. He wonders, idly, how long he’s been gone.

”Dad’s all worked up,” Sokka continues. ”He’s scared you took off in a canoe all by yourself.”

”I’m sorry,” Zuko mutters.

He can see Sokka shrug, out of the corner of his eye.

”I get it. Sometimes a guy needs to brood.”

They fall silent for a while, but silence doesn’t seem to come naturally for Sokka, so he soon interrupts it again.

”Sooo, dad told us you’re no longer a prince, huh?”

Zuko looks at the ground, picking up a few pebbles to throw down the slope.

”I’m still a prince,” he says. ”That’s by blood, my father can’t take that away from me. But I’m no longer the heir to the throne.”

Sokka hums.

”Did you want to become fire lord?” he asks.

Zuko shrugs.

”I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. I was just… expected to.” He falls silent for a moment, before continuing. ”But what my father has done… he’s basically disowning me. I mean, not actually, but…”

Zuko feels the sting of tears in his eyes again and quickly angles his face away from Sokka, willing the tears away.

”I’ve never been good enough for him,” he mumbles, voice thick with unshed tears.

”No offense, but your dad sounds like a dick,” Sokka says, and it’s surprising enough to startle a snort out of Zuko that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

He can hear Sokka get on his feet beside him, and then a hand is thrust into his field of vision.

”Come on,” Sokka says. ”Dad will probably have a heart attack soon if I don’t get you back to the village.”

Zuko takes Sokka’s hand and allows himself to get pulled to his feet. His throat is aching from holding back tears, and he quickly lets his eyes drop to the ground so Sokka won’t notice. He does anyway.

”I’m going to hug you,” Sokka says, with determination in his voice.

Zuko looks up at him.

”What?”

Sokka shrugs.

”It’s what Katara would do, and she’s better at these things than me.”

Then Zuko is pulled into a tight embrace. Since it is expected, Zuko doesn’t tense up as much as he usually does. Sokka is nearly as tall as him, and rests his chin on his shoulder lightly. It takes Zuko a while to gather his wits enough to let his own hands come rest tentatively on Sokka’s bac. It’s nice. Zuko has only ever been hugged by his mother and his uncle before, but now both of the water tribe siblings have hugged him within the span of just a few weeks. Hugging Sokka is different, but not a bad kind of different. He can feel the warmth from Sokka’s body seep into him through all their layers of clothing, the short hair on the side of Sokka’s head tickling his temple. His heartbeat picks up a notch, despite the circumstances.

He’s not sure how long they’ve been standing there when Sokka lets him go. His cheeks feel cold as the wind picks up, and Zuko realizes that a few tears have escaped his eyes, despite his best efforts to keep them back. He wipes at his face with his sleeve, and Sokka averts his gaze, for which Zuko is grateful.

”Come on,” Sokka says again, and they start making their way back to the village.

Hakoda looks relieved, and very much like he wants to hug Zuko, when they return. Uncle does hug him, telling Zuko that he was worried and that all will be alright. All will not be alright, but it is what it is.

Zuko can’t sleep that night, staring at the ceiling in Hakoda’s bedroom. By tomorrow night, Zuko will be able to move back into the cabin with uncle and Noriko. Noriko had greeted him as well, when he had come back with Sokka, and she had looked relieved, but she hadn’t spoken to him. Zuko gathers that she actually has kept his secret, and he’s a bit surprised by that, and very grateful.

Memories parade themselves through his mind, unprompted. Feeding the turtle ducks with his mother, playing with Azula and her friends, his father’s constant disappointment at all his shortcomings. He tries to remember a time when his father has been kind to him, or touched him other than to strike or burn him, but he can’t remember any. He doesn’t know when his father started hating him, but he can’t remember a time when he didn’t. He has been drilled in the ways of honor and duty and war, but has been taught nothing of kindness and compassion, at least not by his father. He has been expected to put his country and his family first, always, but he has never felt like someone has bothered to put him first, other than perhaps his mother. Why should he be loyal to someone who has never shown him a shred of care?

He sits up in Hakoda’s bed. The chief is sleeping soundly on the floor, snoring slightly. Zuko manages to get out of bed and over to the door without waking him. The door creaks as Zuko pushes it open, and Zuko pauses, but Hakoda doesn’t even shift in his sleep. Zuko slips through the narrow crack, and closes the door softly behind him. He expects the main room to be empty, and is surprised to find himself face to face with Sokka, who has his hand shoved down a bag of dried squid.

””What are you doing up?” Sokka asks him, and Zuko puts his finger to his lips to shush him. ”You’re not running away again, are you?”

Zuko quickly shakes his head.

”No,” he says. ”I just…”

He trails off, and then, suddenly, there’s an idea in his head. He looks at Sokka.

”Can you help me with something?”

”Are you sure about this?”

They’re in the small bath house. Zuko had told Sokka about his plan, and Sokka had accepted, both excited and a bit skeptical. After gathering everything they needed at the cabin they had decided to leave for the bath-house, not wanting to wake anyone up. Plus, it was a good location for what Zuko had in mind.

”No,” Zuko admits. ”But I’m doing it anyway.”

Sokka shrugs.

”Let’s go, then.”

He moves close to Zuko, gathering the top part of his hair in one hand, tying it into a messy top knot. He steps back, looking Zuko over with an evaluating glint in his eyes where he’s seated on a low stool in front of him.

”You should wear your hair down more often,” he tells him.

Zuko furrows his eyebrows at him in confusion.

”Why?” he asks.

Sokka shrugs, again, but he’s avoiding Zuko’s gaze as he does.

”No reason,” he replies, then: ”I’m going to use the scissors first.”

Zuko nods, mouth dry. The fact that he’s sitting down while Sokka is standing means that he’s more or less face to face with Sokka’s bellybutton, or, at least where Sokka’s belly button should be, underneath his clothes. Sokka is entirely too close for comfort but there is really no way of doing this where Sokka could keep a comfortable distance, so Zuko will just have to make due. It doesn’t stop his cheeks from burning hot, though.

Sokka’s fingers are gentle as they touch his scalp, turning Zuko’s head sideways. He grabs a handful of Zuko’s hair, and Zuko hears the snip-snip sound of the scissors close to his ear. Next thing, Sokka is holding long strands of black hair in his hand. Zuko stares at it.

”Well,”Sokka says. ”No turning back now.”

He lets Zuko’s hair fall to the ground as he moves around Zuko, scissors cutting through his hair, as close to his scalp as they can get.

”Why is your hair so soft?” Sokka mutters, seemingly more to himself than to Zuko.

”Yours would be too, if you’d had servants combing through it with oils every day of your life,” Zuko tells him.

”Spoiled brat,” Sokka scoffs, but it’s good-natured.

He steps back, looking Zuko over again and promptly breaking out in laughter.

”What?” Zuko a ski him, annoyed and a little worried.

”You look crazy,” Sokka informs him.

Which is just great, really.

”Relax,” Sokka says. ”We’re not done yet.”

He puts the scissors down and plucks a razor knife out of his pocket.

”Okay, you’ll have to be really still for this part, I don’t want to cut you,” he warns Zuko.

The knife makes a soft, scraping sound as Sokka moves it across Zuko’s scalp. Zuko can’t help but reach out and touch the shaved area. There is still about half an inch of hair left, and it tickles Zuko’s fingertips as he moves them across it. Sokka swats his hand away.

”No touching until we’re done,” he tells him.

Silence fall over the bath house, save for the scarping of the knife across Zuko’s scalp as short tufts of black hair falls to the ground to join the long strands. Sokka strokes his hand across the parts of Zuko’s head he’s already shaved, and the light touch makes Zuko shiver.

”Are you cold?” Sokka asks him, a bit absentmindedly.

Zuko shakes his head, which has Sokka pull the knife back quickly.

”I said, don’t move,” he scolds.

Zuko stills his head and Sokka resumes his shaving. He’s worrying his lower lip between his teeth in concentration and Zuko thinks, not for the first time, about how pretty Sokka is. He really wants to kiss him.

It takes him a lot of willpower not to flinch as he realizes what thought has just crossed his mind, and he can feel his cheeks heat up again. Since when does he want to kiss Sokka? He doesn’t get time to ponder the question further. Sokka is suddenly in front of him, face level with his, and he takes Zuko’s chin in his hand, turning it one way, then the other, as Zuko’s heart is thundering away in his chest, the sound of his own pulse in his ears turning to static. He swallows, despite of how dry his mouth has gone, and that seems to alert Sokka to how close they are.

For a moment, their eyes meet, and everything stills, stretching the moment out impossibly through time and space. Sokka’s eyes drop to Zuko’s mouth, and for a fraction of a second Zuko thinks that the other boy might lean in. He doesn’t. Instead he clears his throat, standing up abruptly, the razor knife clattering to the ground.

”Okay,” Sokka says, his voice an octave higher than usual. ”I think that’s done now. I’m just going to…”

He gestures helplessly at Zuko. Zuko, not trusting his own voice, just nods, despite not knowing what Sokka is alluding to. Sokka moves behind him, and then careful fingers are pulling Zuko’s hair loose from the messy top knot, combing through it, fingertips softly scraping across his scalp, before the long hair still intact on top of his head is once again tied up with his leather band, this time in a wolf tail. Zuko can feel Sokka’s fingers linger, just for a moment, sliding down from his head to his neck. Then Sokka’s hands are gone, and he moves in front of Zuko.

”There,” he says, a look in his eyes that Zuko doesn’t even know how to start deciphering. ”All done.”

Zuko removes the robe he has been using to protect his clothes from stray hairs and stands up.

”How do I look?” he asks Sokka, and he scolds himself for the slightly breathless quality his voice has taken on. He needs to pull himself together.

Sokka looks him over and pulls a face.

”Weird,” he says. ”But, like, good weird. You should see for yourself, though.”

He nods towards the mirror at the back of the bath house. Zuko moves closer to it. It does look weird, his hair shaved short on the sides, hair on top kept long and pulled back into a wolf tail, not unlike Sokka’s. He drags a hand across the short hairs on the side of his head. It’s soft, like the fur of a small animal. He feels a tug on his ponytail.

”It’s longer than mine,” Sokka says from behind him, and is casual touching just a thing they do now? Zuko is not sure he’ll survive if it is.

Zuko shakes his head slightly, feeling the tips of his wolf tail tickle the base of his neck.

”You look like a true water tribe warrior, now,” Sokka teases, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

Zuko absolutely does not look like a water tribe warrior, with his jet black hair, fair skin and golden eyes. But he does look much less like a fire nation royal.

”We should head back,” Sokka tells him. ”If dad wakes up and you’re not there he’ll go all arctic mother hen again.”

It turns out Hakoda is already up, looking a bit frantic as Zuko and Sokka walk though the door. He relaxes as he realizes they’re both fine, though, and then his eyes sharpen with interest as he notices Zuko’s hair.

”You got a haircut,” he says, in a tone of voice Zuko doesn’t recognize.

”Yeah,” Zuko says, dragging a hand over his hair self-consciously. ”I know I’m not from the water tribe, but I wanted…”

”It’s fine,” Hakoda interrupts him. ”It’s a good look.”

”Right?” Sokka says, coming up behind Zuko to sling an arm around his shoulder, to which Zuko, predictably, flinches. Sokka quickly removes his arm and part of Zuko wishes he didn’t but another, bigger part, is relieved he does. ”Much better than that uptight top knot.”

Zuko makes a face.

”That ’uptight top knot’ is actually considered highest fashion in the fire nation capital,” he tells Sokka. ”Not that I’d expect you to know anything about fashion.”

Sokka sticks his tongue out at him.

”Oh I’m sorry that our simple, water peasant garb isn’t up to your standards, your highness.”

Zuko smiles at that, and he catches Hakoda look between him and Sokka with interest, confusion and maybe a bit of exasperation.

”Well, your sister and countrymen are heading out soon,” he tells them. ”We need to get ready to see them off.”

”I’ll meet you outside,” Zuko tells them. ”I have to get something first.”

He runs the short distance to Bato’s cabin, the guard standing post outside Hakoda’s house following him. He’s happy he’s not expected to be accompanied by chief Hakoda anywhere he goes anymore, at least. And soon there will be no guard following him around, either. It had been such a natural part of his life in the fire nation that he hadn’t realized how liberating it was going without it until he suddenly was followed around again.

His uncle looks surprised to see him, even more so as he notices the hair. Zuko feels nervous, all of a sudden. Hair is important in the fire nation, and how you wear your hair denotes your status. It’s part of the reason he did it, trying to distance himself from the nation where he’s never felt like anything but a failure, but his uncle’s reaction actually matters to him. Maybe he will see it as an insult, Zuko denouncing their way of life.

But uncle just smiles at him.

”It suits you, nephew,” he says.

Zuko returns the smile with his own, relieved one.

”Thank you, uncle,” he says, and tries to pack as much gratefulness he can into the words.

His uncle didn’t have to come with Zuko to the South Pole, but he still had, to keep him company and protect him. The protection part hadn’t been as necessary, in the end, but Zuko is still forever indebted to him. His own father might have disowned him, but his uncle had chosen to stand by his side through all of it. He knows uncle could easily leave with Azula and the rest of the fire nation dignitaries, that he would be welcomed back at the palace and could resume his old life. Zuko also knows that he won’t. He feels a bit guilty, at that, but he also doesn’t know what he would do if his uncle actually left.

”Prince Zuko.”

Zuko turns towards Noriko. She is looking at him with wide eyes. Zuko hasn’t had a chance to talk to her since the night she caught Hakoda and Bato, since the night he’d thrown himself at her feet and begged her not to send him into certain death. True to Hakoda’s word, she hasn’t ratted him out to his sister, and he’s grateful for that. But he’s still unsure of where he stands with Noriko. Hakoda had told him that she cares for him, but he’s still not sure he can trust her.

”I…” Noriko starts, but her voice wavers. ”I like the hair.”

Zuko nods. It’s something, at least.

”Shouldn’t you be getting ready to see princess Azula off?” she tells him.

”Yeah, I’m on my way,” he says. ”I was just looking for…”

He looks over to the small stool by the door. There, beneath red and brown coats, scarves and furs, he spots something white and blue. He pulls the parka out, sliding it over his head. It’s impossibly soft inside, and warm. Zuko kind of regrets not wearing it sooner, it would have saved him having to use fire bending to keep warm.

Noriko has surprise painted across her features as she looks at him.

”Oh,” she says. ”That looks…”

”That looks like a well crafted piece of clothing,” uncle finishes for her.

There’s a knock on the door, and Hakoda’s voice can be heard through it.

”Zuko?” it says. ”The ship will be leaving port soon.”

Zuko opens the door, filing out of the cabin with Noriko and uncle. Hakoda and his children are standing outside, and Katara’s eyes widen as they land on him.

”Tui and La,” she says. ”What did I miss?”

Zuko feels a bit bashful under her open stare.

”Uh, surprise?” he says.

”Do you like the hair?” her brother asks. ”I cut it.”

Katara crosses her arms and huffs out a breath.

”Not fair,” she says. ”I wanted to help with Zuko’s water tribe make over as well.”

Sokka nudges his sister with his shoulder.

”I’m sure Zuko’ll let you braid his hair later,” he says.

From the way Katara’s eyes light up at that, Zuko knows he will, too.

They start moving towards the harbor.

”Where did you get the parka?” Sokka asks.

Zuko glances down at himself, still unused to seeing water tribe blue on himself, rather than the usual red.

”Uh, you grandmother gave it to me, actually.”

”What?” Sokka asks. ”When?”

Zuko can’t help but smile.

”Like, my first night here,” he tells him.

”Yeah, that does sound like gran-gran,” Katara interjects.

Zuko’s smile widens.

”She actually made it for you, Sokka,” he informs.

Sokka groans.

”Of course she would just hand over my clothes to some jerk bender she’s just met,” he mutters, and the home-made slur almost feels like an endearment, now.

They arrive at the docks, and Zuko can see all of his countrymen do a collective double take as they spot him. He ignores them, though, and goes to stand next to the chief in the procession to send them off. Azula steps forward. Her eyes scan Zuko up and down, and there’s contempt in her eyes as she levels a stare at him. She doesn’t say anything, though, instead turning to Hakoda with a sharp smile.

”Chief Hakoda,” she says, offering a deep bow that Hakoda returns. ”I wish to thank you for your hospitality on the behalf of the fire lord and the fire nation.”

”It’s been an honor having you as our guests, princess Azula,” Hakoda tells her. ”I hope you will return in the future to visit your brother.”

Azula looks at Zuko again.

”Perhaps,” she says, voice light. ”Until then you will have to take good care of him for me,” she says, directing a saccharine smile at the chief, who, to his credit, doesn’t raise to the bait.

Goodbyes are exchanged in the form of deep bows, and then his sister is leading the fire nation procession back on the boat. She turns to look at Zuko one final time, before the helm starts to rise. It closes with a muted boom, and then she ship is moving, slowly, the ice surrounding it groaning and shrieking as the metal tears through it. He can hear Hakoda let out a heavy sigh next to him.

”Tui and La,” he says. ”I hope I’ll never have to see another fire nation ship in our harbor again.”

He seems to catch himself, cutting a guilty glance at Zuko.

”I mean…” he starts to rectify.

Zuko shakes his head.

”It’s fine,” he says. ”I’m actually relieved to see them go as well.”

Hakoda gets that sad look in his eyes he often gets when he looks at Zuko.

”I’m sure you’ll get to see your sister again,” he says.

Zuko watches the ship as it’s moving past ice bergs, already a good way out to sea.

”Maybe.”

Chapter Text

”Hello.”

Hakoda looks up from his tea. Bato is standing in the middle of the cabin, having obviously let himself in. He has a soft smile on his lips, and it makes Hakoda’s heart skip a beat.

”Hi,” he tells him.

Sokka glances over from where he’s lounging on the floor, his sister next to him, fully focused on braiding Zuko’s hair in the most intricate braid Hakoda has ever seen. His son looks between Hakoda and Bato with suspicion.

”Ew,” he finally says.

Hakoda lets his gaze slide from Bato to his son, although a bit reluctantly.

”We’re not doing anything, Sokka,” he tells him, slightly exasperated by the fact that his teenage son seems to find everything he does cringe-worthy nowadays.

”No, but I can tell you want to,” Sokka says, and, okay, maybe he has a point.

Sokka nudges his sister with his foot.

”Come on,” he tells her and Zuko, indicating Bato and Hakoda with a nod of his head. ”Let’s go before we have to witness something potentially scarring.”

Both Zuko and Katara look at the two adults, Katara with a small smile and Zuko with reddening cheeks. The kids get up and move towards Sokka and Katara’s room, Sokka snatching some dried seaweed with him on the way there.

Then it’s just Bato and Hakoda. Hakoda can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage, feeling lightheaded with Bato’s mere presence in a way he hasn’t been in years. He gets up from the floor and he’s not exactly sure if it’s him or Bato moving, maybe both of them, but suddenly they’re kissing, clinging to each other like two men drowning.

”I’ve missed you so much,” Hakoda tells him between kisses, and, for once, Bato doesn’t chide him for being sappy, just kisses him, again and again.

”I’ve missed you, too,” he says. ”Let’s never do that again.”

Hakoda huffs a laugh against his lips.

”I think the fire lord has run out of children for me to marry.”

”Shut up,” Bato tells him, and Hakoda is happy to oblige, as Bato nudges him towards the bedroom.

The fall into bed, and Hakoda groans as he feels the soft mattress beneath him.

”I haven’t slept in a bed in over a week,” he tells Bato as the other is trying to unbutton his tunic. ”I’m way too old to sleep on the floor.”

”Well,” Bato says, finally getting the tunic open, pushing it to the side, letting his hands glide across Hakoda’s chest and stomach. ”I don’t intend to let you sleep now, either.”

Hakoda pulls him down for another kiss, letting his hands wander beneath Bato’s shirt to roam across warm, soft skin.

They don’t even give themselves time to get under the sheets, and it’s quick and messy and perfect, Bato collapsing on top of him once they’re done, and Hakoda’s skin breaks out in goosebumps as the cold air dries the thin sheen of sweet covering his body.

”I love you,” he tells Bato, because he can, and Bato just hums in agreement into Hakoda’s collarbone. ”You’re also kind of crushing me.”

Bato rolls off him, settling into his side instead, and Hakoda makes a face at the stickiness on both of their stomachs.

”We made a mess,” Hakoda tells him.

Bato kisses his cheek.

”Are you talking about the sex or the fact that you’re married to a fire nation prince?” he asks.

Hakoda rolls his eyes and shoves Bato off of him. He manages to find a piece of cloth (or maybe it’s a piece of clothing, Hakoda can’t be bothered either way right now), and dries off his and Bato’s stomachs with it before sliding under the covers, Bato following suit soon after. They curl up close together, a mess of limbs. Hakoda kisses him and for a long moment that’s all there is, just the two of them sharing kisses in bed, the way it’s supposed to be. Bato is the one to withdraw, resting his forehead against Hakoda’s.

”We need to talk to Noriko,” he says. ”And to the rest of the tribe, for that matter.”

Hakoda sighs.

”Yes, I will call for a village meeting tomorrow night,” he says. ”And we’ll talk to Noriko first thing in the morning.”

He draws back to look at Bato.

”How do you think people will react?” he asks.

”I really couldn’t say. I think some of them will understand why you did what you did, and will approve of it. But some will probably not. And I don’t know how they will react to being lied to.”

Hakoda sighs.

”Listen,” Bato says, putting his hand on Hakoda’s cheek. ”You’re our chief, and you know our people hold you in high regard. But you have also let a fire nation royal into the village under false pretenses, and some people will not take to those news kindly, no matter how noble your intentions might have been.”

Hakoda has always been able to trust in Bato being honest with him. It’s what makes him being second in command work, despite their relationship. It might even work because of it. Bato has never been afraid to tell Hakoda off when he thinks he’s being an idiot, whether in private or in front of the council. But he also trusts Hakoda’s judgement.

”I know,” Hakoda says. ”Whatever happens happens. I just hope…”

He trails off for a moment, hesitant.

”Do you think they will accept Zuko? He’s one of us now, for better or worse.”

Bato smiles.

”Yeah, I noticed the new hairdo”, he says. ”And yes, I think they’ll accept him. It will probably take some time, for some people, but you know this village better than I do. You know they are good people.”

Bato is right, of course. The people of the southern water tribe have suffered, but they are also strong and kind and compassionate. He has no doubt that once they learn the truth about the fire nation prince, they will come to accept him into the village. Eventually. As for Hakoda’s own future as chief of their tribe, they will just have to wait and see.

Noriko’s glare very much makes Hakoda feel like a small boy about to get scolded, as he sits down across from her with Bato. Iroh is there as well, busy making them all tea at the moment. Hakoda is not sure if it’s because he feels like tea might help calm the situation, or if he, too, fears Noriko’s wrath.

Bato had told him, yesterday, that he had managed to talk Noriko down from telling the fire princess what she saw by using her obvious care for prince Zuko, but he hadn’t been able to tell her anything about their plan or the fact that they had all kept her in the dark about what was really going on. It was probably for the best. Noriko might have been fine not selling them out to the fire nation when she thought it was just Hakoda being unable to honor the sanctity of marriage, but he’s not so sure she would have been as easily placated if she knew it had all been an elaborate plan from the start, no matter how much she cared for Zuko.

”Noriko,” Hakoda starts. ”We owe you an explanation. I only ask of you to hear us out, start to finish, and to keep in mind that it was all done with the intention of keeping the village and the young prince safe.”

Noriko’s glare falters for a moment, giving way to confusion, but her brows soon burrow again, and she crosses her arms in front of her.

”Fine,” she says.

And so Hakoda tells her everything, with a few side notes from Bato and Iroh. Noriko’s eyebrows climd higher and higher on her forehead as they speak, and by the end she looks practically outraged.

”So you mean to tell me,” she says, voice shrill. ”That you never intended to honor the agreement with the fire nation, and that you have lied not only to me, but to the fire princess and the fire lord as well?”

”That pretty much sums it up,” Bato says.

Noriko gets up from her chair, abruptly enough that it topples over behind her.

”This is unacceptable!” she exclaims. ”This is treason, the fire lord must know of this immediately.”

She makes to leave, when a wall of fire suddenly cuts off her path. Iroh has stood up as well, and his eyes are thunder.

”Sit down,” he tells her, and it’s a command. Gone is the smiling uncle Iroh. They are now in the presence of the Dragon of the West.

Noriko sits down, but not on her chair, instead falling to her knees on the floor. It’s the first time Hakoda has seen her act like an actual servant in front of Iroh. The fire dies down.

”Noriko,” Iroh tells her, and his voice is measured. ”I know my brother picked you for this mission because you are loyal to the fire nation, and the royal family. And I do not ask you to betray that loyalty lightly. But you and I both know what will happen to prince Zuko if you tell his father about this. I know you care deeply for my nephew, and I ask you to put that loyalty above the loyalty you may feel for my brother. And know that if you don’t, there are very few things that I am not willing to do to keep my nephew safe.”

Noriko’s eyes widen in fear, and Hakoda feels torn. He, too, wishes to keep Zuko safe, but he also feels for the handmaiden, who is asked to do the unthinkable or face the wrath of a general who used to be known for his ruthlessness. Noriko bows her head.

”Please know that I do not wish any harm on the young prince,” she says, her voice quiet. ”But you are asking me to betray my own country, general Iroh.”

Iroh walks over to Noriko and puts a gentle hand on her head. She still flinches under the touch.

”I am not asking you to betray your country, Noriko,” he says. ”I am asking you to betray fire lord Ozai, a man who would burn his own son and then send him off to marry an adult man, stripping him off his birthright as he does.”

Noriko covers her face with her hands, and Hakoda can see her shoulders shake as she starts to sob. Hakoda feels his heart break as he watches her cry, and before he even knows he’s doing it, he’s on his feet, making his way over to Noriko and sitting down next to her. He puts an arm around her.

”I wish we didn’t have to put you in this position,” he tells her. ”But we’re asking you to please consider putting prince Zuko’s wellbeing before your loyalty to the fire lord. You know he will be safe here. But no matter your choice, I will personally ensure that no harm comes to you.”

He looks up at Iroh when he says it, the former general having taken a few steps back. He knows he will not be able to stop Iroh if he decides to harm Noriko for putting Zuko in danger, but spirits know he will try.

Noriko buries her face in Hakoda’s chest as she continues to cry, her sobs being the only sound in the small cabin. Hakoda holds her close, waiting her out. Eventually she sits back, wiping at her eyes and nose with a sleeve while sniffling loudly. Bato hands her a handkerchief. She blows her nose.

”I won’t tell the fire lord about any of this,” she finally tells them, and Hakoda can feel himself relaxing. ”You’re right, I do care for prince Zuko, a great deal, and I don’t want him hurt under any circumstances. So I will do it for him, not for any of you.”

She looks at Iroh as she says it, and Iroh just bows to her.

”I ask nothing else,” he says.

Noriko sniffles again, looking at Hakoda with red rimmed eyes.

”I guess it’s a good thing he doesn’t actually have to be married to you,” she says. ”You’re a perfectly nice man, but you’re more than twice his age, you know.”

Bato laughs.

”I second that,” he says, and Hakoda feels lighter than he has in weeks.

He has to retract that statement later that night, as he watches his tribesmen leave the communal igloo. He waits until everyone is gone except for Bato, Gilak and his mother before sagging against Bato.

It had not been an easy meeting. The members of the tribe had had a lot to say about Hakoda bringing a fire nation royal into their tribe and keeping them all in the dark as to the real nature of this arrangement. A lot had been said and almost nothing had been positive. People were upset at being lied to, they were weary of letting Zuko and general Iroh reside among them, they feared retributions from Hakoda deceiving the fire lord. At least no one had protested shifting Zuko’s status to a child of the tribe rather than the spouse of the chief, and in the end everyone was, of course, ready to keep the truth about it all from any fire nation official.

Hakoda had always considered himself well liked among his tribesmen, he felt like they trusted him and believed he was, ultimately, a fair and competent leader. He thinks that might have shifted tonight, despite the council of elders backing him up, and Kanna being his fiercest defender.

”Well, that could have gone better,” Bato sighs, draping an arms loosely over Hakoda’s back.

”Yeah you can say that again,” Gilak mutters.

”I can not believe the stubbornness of some of these people,” Kanna huffs, and it’s obvious that she’s upset. ”That they would put their own comfort above the protection of a child.”

Gilak looks at her.

”With all due respect, elder Kanna, you have to understand their hesitancy. Prince Zuko and general Iroh are fire nation royals. Zuko’s father lead the war on the other nations, he probably ordered several of the raids on our village, and the general lead an invasion force through the earth kingdom. We’re asking lot of them, expecting them to just accept these people into our tribe.”

Gilak keeps his tone respectful, but Hakoda has known him long enough to know that he is brimming with barely suppressed anger. He sits up a bit straighter. His mother’s eyes are glowing as she looks at Hakoda’s advisor.

”I do not believe in sins being carried through blood,” she says. ”That boy has suffered at the hands of his father as well, the evidence of it literally burned into his skin. Anyone who wants to burden Zuko with the atrocities of his father can not call themselves compassionate. As for the general, his mistakes are plentiful and his burden to bear, but he is trying to make penance, and if we can not recognize that, then how in the names of Tui and La can we ever expect anyone to change?”

Gilak rises from his seat turning to face Hakoda. His face is stony, not a trace of the usual camaraderie present in his gaze.

”I have known you for a long time, Hakoda, and I have always trusted your judgement, But I believe you are making a mistake in this, and I do believe it will come back to bite you in the ass later. Good night.”

He leaves, not waiting for a reply. Hakoda buries his face in his hands. He is tired, down to his bones.

”This is a fucking mess,” he mumbles.

He feels Bato put an arm around him again, pulling him close to press a kiss to his forehead.

”It will be alright, love,” he says.

Hakoda drops his hands into his lap.

”Maybe I should resign as chief, let someone else take my place,” he says.

”Don’t you dare.”

Hakoda looks up at his mother. Her eyes are still burning with some intense emotion as she looks at him, reaching hand out to rest in his hair.

”You have been a good chief to these people, my son,” she says. ”They know that. You can not abandon them just because things are difficult right now.”

”But how can I ever ask them to trust me again, after all this?” he asks.

”The same way you did before,” she tells him. ”By earning their trust.”

Hakoda grabs her hand from his hair and places a kiss on the back of it.

”Thank you, mother,” he says.

She smiles at him, and he lets her hand go.

”Now, how about you two invite me back to your cabin and make me some food? I feel like I haven’t seen my grandkids in forever.”

Hakoda smiles. He might have lost some of the trust of his people, but at least he still has his family.

- - - - -

Zuko yawns and stretches as he steps into Bato’s cabin. It’s late, although you wouldn’t know it by looking outside. He’s spent the evening with Katara and Sokka. Katara had braided his hair, again, since that now seems to be her favorite pastime, and Sokka had coaxed him into to telling him about the royal palace, a look of yearning on his face as Zuko told him of the grandeur of it all. Of course, he left out the near constant loneliness, his sister’s teasings and his father’s disappointment, because those were not the stories Sokka wanted to hear nor the ones Zuko wanted to tell.

Hakoda had invited him to stay for dinner as he, Bato and Kanna returned from the meeting, and so he did. He had gathered that the meeting might not have gone over well, but the adults seemed reluctant to talk about it. Hakoda and Kanna both assured him that he was at no risk of getting exposed by any of the members of the tribe, though. Zuko is still not sure he trusts that, has no idea why anyone in the southern water tribe would go to any length to protect him, but he tries his best to trust Hakoda’s judgement of his tribesmen, at least.

Noriko is seated at the table, engrossed in her embroidery, but she looks up as Zuko enters.

”Oh,” she says, as if she’s surprised to see him. ”Good evening, prince Zuko.”

His uncle, busy making tea, as always, turns towards him with a smile.

”Good evening, nephew,” he says, then shifts his focus to Zuko’s hair. ”New hairstyle again, I see.”

Zuko reaches a hand to touch his hair. The braid Katara had made for him tonight was this intricate thing with beads woven into it. He blushes and removes the ribbon tying it all together, combing the braids out with his fingers, removing the beads carefully and transferring them to his pocket.

”It’s Katara,” he mumbles. ”She likes to…”

He trails off, not really knowing what to say.

”It looks good on you,” is all uncle says. ”Do you want some tea.”

Zuko nods, sitting down at the table. Noriko gives him a curious glance, but looks away when Zuko looks at her. He looks at her embroidery. It’s beautiful, and very detailed, flowers in red, yellow and orange, growing on a green field. It looks like scene from the fire nation.

”It’s, uh, nice,” he tells her, gesturing toward the piece of fabric in her hand.

Things have been weird between them, ever since that night. Granted, things between him and Noriko have always been a bit weird. She’s his servant, and someone sent her to spy on him just as much as wait on him. But she never seemed fazed by that before. Now, though, she’s deferent and subservient in a way she never was before. Noriko looks at him, briefly.

”Thank you,” she says, then she falls silent again. Zuko almost misses the incessant chatter from before.

Uncle pours both him and Noriko a cup of tea, something vibrant and green this time. Noriko puts her work down for a moment to take a sip, once again looking over at Zuko. She purses her lips for a second.

”Prince Zuko,” she starts. ”I feel like I owe you an apology for how I acted, when… before. I never realized just… how your father, I mean the fire lord, would react if you returned back home without having… without performing the duty he had entrusted upon you.”

Noriko is talking like she’s struggling to find the right words, and Zuko supposes it’s hard to express ”I didn’t realize you’re father was going to kill you if you had returned home without marrying this man that’s twice your age for no other reason than because he told you to”.

”It’s fine,” he says, looking down at the cup of tea in front of him. ”You didn’t know.”

”Still,” Noriko says. ”I really am sorry that I made you feel… unsafe, by the way I acted. I do care about you, prince Zuko, and I don’t wish to see you hurt. Especially not because of something I did.”

He looks up at her, and there is genuine regret in her eyes. Uncle has told him of what happened when he, Hakoda and Bato had talked to her. He feels bad that she had to be put in a situation where she had to choose between her loyalty towards him and her loyalty towards his father, but he is grateful that she had chosen him.

”I accept your apology,” he tells her, and suddenly she’s smiling widely at him.

”I’m glad,” she tells him. ”Also, might I say, I think you and the chief’s daughter would make a fetching couple.”

Zuko just groans, burying his face in his hands as his cheeks predictably heats up. His uncle chuckles as he sits down next to Zuko at the table, and Zuko chances a look at him between his fingers. Does his uncle also believe that there might be something between him and Katara? Maybe Zuko has just imagined his omniscience.

”Leave the boy be, Noriko,” uncle tells her.

Noriko laughs.

”I’m just saying that I think it’s cute,” she says.

”I’m not…” Zuko starts protesting, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

They all turn towards it in surprise.

”Oh,” Noriko says. ”Who might that be at this late hour?”

She gets up to answer. Zuko cranes his neck to see who might be out there, and he can make out the form of the village healer behind Noriko. They smile at her.

”Good evening Noriko,” the healer tells her. ”I was just wondering…”

Maliq suddenly becomes aware that they have an audience as their gaze trails behind Noriko, and a slight blush rises to their cheeks.

”Oh,” they say. ”Um, hello Prince Zuko, general Iroh. Uh, lovely evening we’re having.”

”It certainly is,” uncle replies, as always seemingly immune to the heavy sense of awkwardness in the room.

”I was just wondering,” Maliq stammers, looking between uncle and Noriko and Zuko. ”If maybe I could borrow Noriko for a while?” They return their focus to Noriko. ”I thought you might want to go for a walk. With me.”

Noriko lets out a giggle that Zuko is pretty sure he’s never heard from her before.

”I would love to,” she says, then seems to catch herself , turning towards Zuko and uncle and offering them a bow. ”If you won’t need my services anymore tonight, of course.”

Uncle smiles at Noriko.

”I think we can manage,” he says. ”You two go, have fun.”

Noriko offers uncle a grateful smile as she puts on a coat and a fur hat, quickly joining Maliq outside. Uncle keeps smiling at the closed door after they’ve left.

”Young love is a beautiful thing, prince Zuko,” he says, turning back to Zuko.

Zuko pulls a face.

”Noriko is hardly young,” he says.

Uncle laughs.

”When you’re as old as me, everyone seem young.”

Zuko thinks back on what Sokka had told him and uncle about Maliq, about them being tuul’a, and how uncle hadn’t seemed fazed by it at all. He takes a deep breath.

”Uncle, there’s something I need to tell you.”

His uncle just hums, but he turns his attention on Zuko.

”I, uh…” he starts, fiddling with the cup in his hands, suddenly scared to look uncle in the eye. ”What Noriko said, about me and Katara, it’s not… it’s not true.”

Zuko can see his uncle nod.

”I know, nephew,” he says. ”She’s just teasing.”

”No, but, it’s not true, because… because I don’t like girls, that way. I like boys.”

He holds his breath in the silence that follows. Then, his uncle reaches out, putting a gentle hand on Zuko’s arm, and the touch is… it’s fine, actually. Comforting.

”I know, Zuko,” he tells him.

Zuko looks up at him, then. His heart is beating wildly.

”How?” he asks. ”I’ve been trying so hard to keep it a secret.”

Uncle squeezes his arm lightly.

”I know that, too. And if you’re worried that someone else might know, don’t be. I know because I know you, nephew.”

Zuko’s breath is shuddering when he exhales.

”Do you think I’m disgusting?” he whispers.

”No, never,” uncle says, with emphasis. ”It doesn’t matter who you fall in love with, you’re my nephew and I love you the same regardless.”

Zuko is not sure he has ever heard his uncle tell him he loves him before.

”Thank you,” Zuko says, although it is wholly too little to convey the full scope of his gratitude.

Uncle gives his arm a final squeeze, and returns to his tea. They sit together in amicable silence for a while. It hits Zuko that he told his uncle, he told a member of his royal, fire nation family, and things were fine. It makes something big and heavy within him unfurl, making him feel lighter than he has in a long time.

”So,” his uncle says, breaking the silence. ”That Sokka boy, huh?”

Zuko chokes on his tea.

Zuko moves through the final katas with his uncle, his fire burning bright as he does, following his movements. He’s still not a powerful bender, nor a particularly talented one, and he doubts he ever will be, but it’s fine. Mostly. And as long as he’ll be staying at the South Pole, he doesn’t really need to be a strong bender. So he settles for training with uncle, feeling his fire grow a little each day.

”Why are you always up so early?”

The whining comes from Sokka, him and his sister making their way over to Zuko and uncle out on the tundra. Hakoda had offered them to use the military trining grounds for their practice, would they like, but Zuko still feels uncomfortable with others watching him bend. He suspects the others in the tribe feels uncomfortable with that, too, so the tundra it is. Katara is offering them both a wide smile as she reaches them, while Sokka just groans and lets the two practice swords clang to the ground next to him.

”I could still be in bed, you know,” he tells Zuko. ”My warm, comfortable bed.”

”I guess you could always find someone else to teach you sword fighting, then,” Zuko replies.

”Jerk,” Sokka huffs.

”Peasant,” Zuko retorts.

Sokka sticks his tongue out at him. It’s almost like a ritual, now, and there is no heat behind it.

Sokka picks up the swords again and hands one to Zuko. Their fingers brush as Zuko takes it from him and it’s… whatever, really. Doesn’t make his heart race at all. Doesn’t make him blush either. He moves a bit further away from uncle and Katara, bowing his head to hide his burning cheeks. Uncle and Katara are getting ready to start their bending practice. Katara has improved a lot, over these last few weeks, but it’s obvious that she needs a real water bender to teach her - his uncle’s improvised water bending moves can only get her so far.

Sokka swings his sword in a wide arc a few times.

”I think this is the day I beat you,” he tells Zuko.

Zuko smiles.

”Bring it on.”

Chapter Text

Epilogue

Zuko stares up at the giant, glowing ice orb before them. He usually hangs back whenever Katara and Sokka starts arguing, knowing from experience that nothing good ever comes from him trying to mediate between them or, Agni forbid, him trying to take sides (though it’s usually safer to side with Katara, seeing how Sokka can’t freeze his feet to the ground when he gets upset). This time, though, the nothing good has obviously happened despite him staying out of it.

”What did you do, Katara?” he asks.

”Nothing!” Katara says, but there’s a shrill note of panic in her voice.

There is something inside the orb, a shadow visible through the ice, emanating its own glow. Zuko walks closer. It almost looks like a person, but that’s impossible, there’s no way.

The thing inside the orb suddenly opens its eyes, as if to prove Zuko wrong.

”He’s alive!” Katara exclaims, ”We need to help him!”.

Before Zuko has the time to react, Katara has taken Sokka’s club and is leaping across the ice floes towards the orb, her brother hot on her heels.

”Katara!” Sokka yells. ”Stay back! We don’t know what that thing is!”

Zuko wholeheartedly agrees with Sokka, but he also knows Katara won’t listen. If there is someone in need, Katara will always try to help them. Zuko sighs as he makes his way across the ice floats as well, skidding onto the small platform next to the orb. Katara whacks the club into the iceberg with surprising strength, dull thuds echoing across the open water surrounding them as the club makes contact with the ice. The ice seems to be thick, though, and he doubts Katara will be able to get through it using just the club.

He considers helping her get through the ice by using his fire bending, when the orb suddenly breaks open, releasing a big gust of wind as it does. Zuko hurries to Katara’s and Sokka’s side just as a massive column of blue light shoots out of the iceberg and into the sky, temporarily blinding him. He moves into an attack stance more or less on instinct, stepping out in front of the water tribe siblings. Next to him Sokka takes out his fishing spear while taking a step forward, he, too, ready to attack.

The column dissipates into swirls of soft, blue light above them, and as Zuko looks up he spots a small figure climbing out of the orb, glowing arrow adorning an otherwise bald head. The eyes of the person are glowing as well, but the glow dies down as they blink, and Zuko realizes that he’s staring up at a small boy, probably a bit younger than Katara, clad in orange and yellow. He sways slightly where he stands before toppling head first down the ice.

Katara gasps and dives forward, managing to catch him.

There is something familiar about the boy. Not him, specifically, but Zuko recognizes the clothing and the blue arrow tattooed on the boy’s head. There are other arrows as well, he realizes, on the boy’s hands, climbing up his wrists and disappearing beneath his clothes, and a memory shifts to the front of Zuko’s mind.

Air nomad.

Zuko remembers a book with paintings of monks in loose-fitting clothes, and temples up above the clouds, and the lesson he and his sister received on air nomad culture from the palace tutor. The boy is an air nomad. Which is impossible, since Zuko knows for a fact that his great grandfather wiped all air nomads from existence a hundred years ago.

The boy groans and opens his eyes, grinning wildly at Katara and saying something to her that Zuko can’t quite hear, before more or less floating through the air to his feet, which has Sokka yelping as he takes a step back.

Definitely air nomad, then, Zuko thinks, and surprisingly spry for someone who had been incased in ice up until five minutes ago.

He furrows his eyebrows, trying to remember what the tutor had told them. Did air nomads usually have eyes that glowed? He didn’t think so. But there is something else, tugging at his memory, just out of reach.

There is a low growl coming from somewhere inside the ice orb, and the boy lights up at that.

”Appa!” he exclaims and disappears behind the ice.

Katara follows suit and Zuko wants to caution her. They don’t know this boy, where he’s from or what his intentions are, but before he has the chance to say anything, Sokka grabs his hand and drags him along. It’s the kind of contact that would usually send Zuko’s nerves into a frenzy, but right now he’s too confused to acknowledge his blatant crush on the water tribe boy.

It turns out the air nomad boy was not the only thing encased in the ice, as Zuko watches him fling himself at some giant, furry monster lying flat on his stomach in the snow, looking more dead than alive. He has a matching arrow of darker fur going down his forehead, and Zuko realizes he recognizes the creature as well, from those same paintings that had pictured the air nomads. He can’t remember what they’re called, though.

”What the fuck is that?” Sokka asks, letting go of Zuko’s hand to gesture wildly at the animal.

”Language,” Zuko mutters, without really thinking about it.

Sokka turns to him, looking affronted and amused.

”Oh, I’m sorry, dad,” he tells Zuko, and Zuko can’t help the slight blush that rises on his cheeks as he realizes the degree to which he just channeled Hakoda.

”Well the kid is like, what, ten?” Zuko tries to defend himself.

”Actually, I’m twelve,” the boy says. ”And you seem a bit young to be a dad,” he tells Zuko with a smile that makes it hard for Zuko to decipher whether he’s joking or not.

”Zuko is just or step-dad,” Sokka says with a shit-eating grin.

Katara groans as Zuko snorts.

”Don’t confuse the kid who’s just come out of an ice berg,” Zuko tells him.

The boy does look a bit confused, but not perturbed.

”Anyway, I’m Aang,” he introduces himself. ”And this is Appa, my flying bison.”

They all turn towards the creature, who has now opened its eyes, peering at them while letting out something that sounds an awful lot like a sigh. Sokka scoffs.

”Yeah right,” he says. ”And this is Katara, my flying sister.”

In an act of instant karma, the giant creature then sneezes and covers Sokka in green snot, which is decidedly very gross, and while Sokka is busy trying to scrape his top layer of skin off against the snow, Zuko takes a moment to study the air bender boy. The boy just smiles widely at him, but something about him sets Zuko on edge. Maybe not him specifically, he seems rather harmless, all smiles and enthusiasm, but the fact that he’s an air bender, when no one has seen an air bender in almost a century, and the fact that he’s shown up here, now, emerging from an iceberg. Zuko has no idea how long he’s been in that ice, but just the fact that someone would survive being trapped in ice at what had seemed to be the bottom of the ocean for any amount of time strikes Zuko as highly unlikely. Unless air nomads had some superhuman powers that Zuko had never heard about.

His mind gets stuck on that word, superhuman, as the boy sneezes and sends himself flying into the air, alerting Sokka and Katara to the fact that he’s an air bender as well.

”Do you guys live around here?” Aang asks, as the initial shock over his air bending abilities dies down.

Sokka, who’s done rubbing himself against the snow, seems to bristle at that, grabbing his spear once again and angling it towards the air bender.

”Don’t answer that,” he tells the others. ”For all we know, he could be a fire nation spy.”

”We already have one of those,” Zuko reminds him, and the boy once again looks confused.

”Noriko doesn’t count,” Sokka says.

”Tui and La, can you two act normal for, like, five seconds?” Katara tells them, then smiles at Aang. ”Anyway, I’m Katara, and the paranoid one is my brother, Sokka, and that’s our friend Zuko.”

Aang waves happily at them.

”Well, if you’re not a spy, then what are you doing here?” Sokka asks, still suspicious, still waving his spear around in a vaguely threatening manner.

The boy’s smile slips from his face for a moment.

”I don’t exactly know,” he tells them. ”I got stuck in the ice, and the next thing I know, I’m here.”

None of this makes sense to Zuko, and the word superhuman still rattles around in his mind, as well as the way the boy’s eyes had glowed, and that he’s somehow the sole surviving air bender after his great grand father had done his damndest to eradicate all air nomads from the face of the earth, all to make sure… to make sure…

Zuko’s eyes widen as the pieces fall into place.

”You’re the Avatar.”

Three pairs of eyes are suddenly fixed on him.

”What?” Sokka says. ”Zuko, why would…”

”Think about it,” Zuko says, feeling frantic, his mind spinning. ”No one has even seen an air nomad in almost one hundred years, and then this random twelve year old just shows up, frozen into an actual iceberg but still somehow alive, and his eyes are glowing and… and…”

”What do you mean, no one has seen an air nomad in a hundred years?” the kid asks. His voice is soft, but it still makes all of them fall quiet. ”That’s ridiculous. I just left the southern air temple yesterday.”

Oh no.

Katara looks over at Zuko in confusion, before turning back to the boy again, putting a hand on his shoulder.

”Well, that’s alright, then,” she says.

But it’s not. Zuko knows the meticulousness with which fire lord Sozin had made sure no air nomads were left. It had taken him years to find them all, but he had done it. In the fire nation archives Zuko has read that the air nomads were hostile towards the fire nation, that they were planning an attack, that they were going to overthrow the fire lord and so the fire lord had to act. He doesn’t know how much of that is fact and how much is just the fire lord re-writing history to fit his narratives, but he does know that the over arching goal had been to make sure to kill the new avatar before they had the chance to come into their power, knew that the repeated attacks on the southern water tribe and the kidnapping and killing of its benders had been an extension of that mission.

If new air nomads had suddenly appeared, the fire nation would know about. His father would make it his personal mission to find them all.

The boy still looks confused, and maybe a bit worried. Zuko’s mind is still spinning.

”What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks the kid.

Katara shoots him a dark look.

”Cut it out, Zuko,” she tells him. ”He’s just come out of an ice berg, for spirits sake, you can interrogate him later.”

The giant creature has gotten up on his legs, of which there are six, Zuko notices with a detached sort of interest, his mind still reeling from the implications of this air nomad boy suddenly showing up among them. It leans forward to gently nudge the boy with its nose, and the boy turns towards it, running his fingers through its fur. He looks over at Zuko, seeming to mull something over.

”How did you know I was the Avatar?” he then asks.

Something clatters to the ground next to Zuko, and he turns to find that Sokka has dropped his spear.

”Holy shit,” he mutters, and Zuko can do nothing but agree.

Holy shit indeed.

- - - - -

Hakoda yawns as he gets out of bed and trudges over to the door of his bedroom. He feels like he haven’t slept at all. The main room is empty except for Bato making breakfast, his kids probably long gone on that fishing trip they were going to go on with Zuko.

”Good morning,” Bato greets him. ”How’d you sleep?”

Hakoda slumps down in the chair next to his partner, reaching for one of the mugs of steaming tea on the table. It smells of something flowery, but the aroma is unfamiliar to Hakoda. He supposes Iroh must have ordered in some new teas.

”Terrible,” he tells Bato, because there’s really no need to lie.

Bato reaches a hand across the table to rest on top of Hakoda’s.

”Are you alright?” he asks.

Hakoda doesn’t really know. He’s been chief of this tribe for so long, and while he’s never taken his title for granted he was still caught by surprise as his tribesmen had voted to replace him at the annual village meeting yesterday. He knew, of course, that Gilak was going to offer himself up for the role of chief at the meeting, his advisor had had the decency to be upfront about that, at least, but he still hadn’t expected the rest of the tribe to actually choose Gilak over him. It had been by the smallest of margins, but he’d still lost.

It felt like a betrayal, and he had slowly realized over the course of the meeting, as several people had spoken out in favor of Gilak, that his friend must have talked to the inhabitants of the wolf cove before the election, pleading his case, maybe even badmouthing Hakoda.

A lot of points had been raised by those who had chosen to stand behind Gilak, but the main point had been this: because of Hakoda’s actions, the tribe now had members of the royal family of the nation they had been at war with for almost a century living among them.

It saddens Hakoda. Not just the fact that he is no longer the chief of his people, but that so many choose to distrust Zuko, Iroh and Noriko. He has not seen any open hostility towards the fire nation members, but Hakoda supposes that there must be fear and suspicion brewing in silence among his tribesmen. Part of him understands why; the nine months that have passed since he married the prince is nothing compared to almost a hundred years of war. He’s still disappointed, though. He had believed that the trio had integrated well into the tribe.

Zuko still wears his hair in a warrior’s wolf tail, and Hakoda can’t remember the last time he saw him wear something other than the parka his mother had given him when he first got here, now accompanied by proper water tribe boots and mittens made out of buffalo yak fur. His kids and the young prince are practically inseparable these days, the only time they spend apart being when Katara goes to school and Sokka attends the warrior training he had opted for when he had turned fifteen and had to choose a vocation to apprentice for. Hakoda had offered Zuko to start apprenticing as well, a few months into his stay with the southern water tribe, and to his surprise, the young prince had accepted. Even more surprising, Zuko had chosen to study medicine and healing with Maliq. Hakoda had a hunch that the choice might have to do more with the fact that Maliq was the only one in the tribe that Zuko had any type of closer relationship with, other than Hakoda’s family (Hakoda can’t help but snicker as he imagines the prince apprenticing with Bato and the other fishermen. The boy couldn’t catch a fish to save his life), than an avid interest in the art of healing, but it warmed his heart none the less.

Iroh had actually negotiated that trade deal with the fire lord that he had used to cover up the real reason as to why Hakoda had accepted the marriage to prince Zuko, and the southern water tribe now had a steady supply of wares coming in from the fire nation, meaning they could speed along the process of rebuilding after the war even more. Cabins were starting to outnumber tents as the preferred housing, and fresh fruit and vegetables had started to become a staple of the everyday cuisine in the tribe. Iroh himself had taken up regularly playing pai sho with some of the elders in the village, and they met up in Hakoda’s cabin once a week for games, his mother and Bato joining in more often than not.

Noriko and Maliq were officially a couple, and Noriko had moved into Mailq’s cabin as soon as they had finished construction on it last month. They were almost ridiculously besotted with each other, and it was rare to see one without the other nowadays. Noriko had also started teaching some of the women in the tribe fire nation cooking, and had struck up an especially close friendship with a young woman of the tribe, Ahnah, who shared Noriko’s propensity for gossip.

But, despite all this, his fellow tribesmen still felt they couldn’t trust the fire nation citizens in their midst. Or, at least enough of them didn’t that they felt like Hakoda couldn’t be trusted, either, for offering them residency among their tribe under false pretenses.

He sighs, deeply, intertwining his fingers with Bato’s and squeezing lightly.

”I don’t know how I feel,” he confesses. ”I’m… disappointed, I suppose. I guess I thought that they trusted me.”

Bato raises Hakoda’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

”They do trust you, love,” he says. ”Don’t forget that almost as many voted for you as voted for Gilak. I just think that for some, their distrust of the fire nation run deeper than their trust for you.”

Hakoda offers a weak smile. Bato’s demeanor this morning is a lot different than his demeanor last night. Bato, alongside Kanna and Maliq, had been his starkest defenders, and Bato had been almost seething with anger as Gilak had won. Gilak had asked Bato to remain as his advisor, but he had declined, barely keeping his composure. He had called Gilak a traitor as they got home, had called him a lot worse than that, and Hakoda had had to calm him down as to not upset Sokka and Katara.

He knows Bato well enough to know that his calmness now is his way to try to apologize for his outburst last night, and to offer Hakoda some comfort.

”I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now,” Hakoda admits.

Bato squeezes his fingers.

”Yes, you do, since you accepted Gilak’s offer of second in command, you noble dumbass,” Bato says.

Hakoda’s smile grows a little wider at the familiar mix of exasperation and fondness in Bato’s voice. He hadn’t expected Gilak to offer him the role of second in command, had supposed Gilak would like to fill the ranks closest to him with people of his own choosing. It’s not unheard of, a former chief taking up the role of advisor to the new chief, but mostly the new chief wants to start fresh, and that means relieving the people closest to the old chief of their positions. Hakoda supposes Gilak offered him the position to show good will, and he had accepted to do the same. Bato had thought it stupid, probably still thinks it stupid, as he, himself, had had no problems declining Gilak’s offer. Hakoda can’t really tell if it’s Bato or him being stubborn in their respective stances on this particular occasion. Maybe both.

Hakoda sighs again, looking around the cabin.

”I suppose we’ll have to move,” he says.

Bato gets up from his chair and walks over to Hakoda, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

”We’ll build a new cabin,” he says. ”Big enough for you, me and the kids.”

Hakoda looks up at him, raising an eyebrow.

”Moving in together, so soon?” he says. ”Are you sure we’re ready for that?”

Bato rolls his eyes and tugs lightly on one of Hakoda’s beaded braids. He opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by a series of knocks on the front door. Hakoda goes to answer, and finds Noriko outside, looking a bit frantic.

”Chief Hakoda,” she tells him.

”Not a chief anymore,” he reminds her, and that makes her falter for a moment, obviously unsure how to refer to him without using a title. He offers her a smile. ”Just Hakoda is fine,” he tells her, not for the first time, but at least now she’ll have to adhere to it.

”Right,” she says. ”Hakoda. There’s something…”

Hakoda doesn’t listen to the rest of her sentence, suddenly realizing why she’s here.

Behind her, far enough away that it must be out at sea, a giant beam of blue light is shooting up into the sky.

”What the actual fuck,” he hears Bato’s voice behind him.

Hakoda pulls his boots on, already trying to decide the best course of action. Should he send someone out to investigate? Maybe it’s best if he goes himself? Or should they gather the warriors, try to come up with a plan for defense should the light be coming from something that poses a threat to the wolf cove?

He’s already halfway to the docks when he realizes that this is no longer up to him, he’s no longer chief. He stops dead in his tracks, and Bato catches up to him, slightly out of breath.

”What is that thing?” he asks, as if Hakoda would know.

The other villagers have come out of their homes to stare at the beam, and Hakoda hears them whisper among themselves. They’re scared, he realizes, the memory of the fire nation raids still fresh within the memories of every adult in the wolf cove. He remembers the soot-mixed snow that used to signal the fire nation's arrival. It’s not that, at least.

The beam of light suddenly dissolves into swirls of blue light circling in the sky, and he feels Bato slide his hand into his.

”It looks like spirit lights,” Bato mumbles.

No one has seen spirit lights over the skies of the southern water tribe for a long, long time. Hakoda has even doubted that their mere existence, it sounding more like a tale passed down through generations than a real thing. He remembers his mother telling him about them though, passing on the stories she had heard as a child; stories of brilliant lights of green and purple dancing across the sky in spirals.

”Hakoda!”

Hakoda turns around to see Gilak hurrying towards him.

”I’m sending out Makwa and Makittuq to investigate,” he tells him. ”Do you have any idea what it might be?”

Hakoda shakes his head, any animosity he might feel towards Gilak overshadowed by what they have just witnessed.

They make their way to the docks, where the two warriors Gilak has chosen are getting ready to get into a canoe.

”Shouldn’t we use one of the ships?” Hakoda asks.

Gilak shakes his head.

”A ship would need at least a six man crew, and I don’t want to spare any more warriors until we know what we’re dealing with here,” Gilak tells him, and there is something of a challenge in his eyes.

He can feel Bato tighten the grip of the hand that is still in Hakoda’s a fraction, and sends his partner a warning glance. This is not Bato’s fight, and Hakoda is in no mood to cause a scene by challenging Gilak, so he relents. The warriors make their way out to sea, guided by the light that has now grown weaker, but is still clearly visible against the sky.

”If I didn’t know better, I’d say that those are spirit lights.”

Hakoda turns around to find Iroh having made his way down to the dock as well.

”Have you ever seen spirit lights before?” Hakoda asks him.

Iroh shakes his head.

”Sadly not,” he says. ”But I heard they are a sight to behold.”

Behind him, Hakoda can hear Gilak instructing the rest of the villagers to return to their homes, as the warriors are filing to the docks and the defense wall, taking up their respective positions, ready to defend the village, should it be needed. Hakoda feels a churning worry in his gut. Nothing suggests that this is the fire nation’s doing, but he still can’t help but wonder.

Bato lets go of his hand and unfastens his club from his belt.

”Something is coming,” he tells Hakoda.

Hakoda squints at the horizon, and out on the water, something big is moving towards them. Hakoda didn’t remember to bring a weapon, but all around him the warriors are readying theirs. Whatever it is out on the water, it’s far too far away for Hakoda to make out any details yet, and too far away for any of the spears being held high by the warriors to land on target. Through the tense silence, Hakoda can suddenly make out a familiar voice shouting something.

”Dad!” the voice yells. ”Dad! It’s us!”

Katara.

”Stand down!” he instructs the warriors, without really thinking.

He sees them sending confused glances first at Hakoda and then at Gilak. Gilak furrows his brows.

”Dad, it’s alright!” Katara yells again. ”We’re alright!”

Hakoda looks at Gilak, well prepared to take the other man down if he commands an attack. Gilak seems to realize this as well.

”Stand down,” he commands the warriors, and Hakoda relaxes.

Next to him, Bato puts the club back in his belt.

”What in La’s name is that?” Bato mutters.

As the thing comes closer, Hakoda realizes it’s not a thing at all, but rather this enormous animal, swimming leisurely through the water. A sort of saddle is attached to the animal’s back, and Hakoda now recognizes Katara, Sokka and Zuko, all seated in it, as well as bald-headed boy sitting on the animal’s head, apparently steering it through the water with reins attached to the animal’s massive horns.

Katara is waving to him, and Hakoda returns the wave, more confused than he’s ever felt in his life.

The animal makes its way to shore and crawls out of the water with some effort, before collapsing in the snow. Hakoda hurries over, only distantly registering Bato, Iroh and Gilak following suit. He reaches the giant creature just as his kids make their way off its back, Katara gracefully leaping off of it, while Zuko helps Sokka down by offering him his hand, then promptly blushes as Sokka takes it, in this familiar and very awkward routine that Hakoda has witnessed a thousand times over the last nine months. He would talk to Sokka about it, but his son seems painfully oblivious to the effect he’s having on the fire prince, and Hakoda really doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable for either of them, so now he’s just waiting for them to sort themselves out.

All thoughts on the relationship between his son and the fire nation prince fades though, as the kid sitting on the animal’s head suddenly leaps several feet into the air before descending slowly to the ground, his clothes billowing and snow whipping up around him as he does.

”Agni,” he can hear Iroh mumble somewhere to his left.

The kid offers the four staring adults a wide smile and a deep bow.

”Hello,” he says, and he sounds young, younger than Katara. ”I’m Aang, and this is Appa.”

He gestures towards the hairy beast still lying belly down on the snow. The beast groans, as if in acknowledgement.

”Nice to meet you,” Bato replies, when it becomes obvious that none of the others will.

”Dad!”

Katara runs up to him, latching onto his arm.

”Dad!” she repeats. ”Aang is the Avatar!”

The silence that follows hear statement is almost deafening. The kid’s smile turns bashful as he looks between the adults. Hakoda looks over at Zuko and Sokka. Zuko is looking at the boy with his brows furrowed, then looks over to his uncle. It seems to shake Iroh out of their shared stupor.

”Is that true?” Iroh asks the boy. ”Are you the Avatar?”

”Uh, yes?” the boy replies. ”I mean yes! Yes I am.”

”Holy fuck,” Bato mutters under his breath and Hakoda can’t even find it in himself to chastise his partner for using bad language in front of the children, because holy fuck?

Hakoda looks the kid over, because he is just a kid, scrawny body clothed in loose fitting robes in yellow and orange, bald head adorned by a blue arrow tattooed all the way across his scalp and down his forehead, smile still wide but a little nervous, eyes large and grey. This boy is the avatar, the master of all four elements who disappeared for a hundred years when the world needed him most?

Katara is still holding onto his arm, and when he drops his gaze to her she is beaming at the kid, as if he is the actual sun.

He takes a deep breath before extracting himself from Katara’s grip, taking a step forward. He’s not sure what the proper protocol is for greeting an air nomad, or the Avatar for that matter, so he settles for a small bow.

”Well then, avatar Aang,” he says, breaking the stunned silence that has fallen over the docks. ”Welcome to the South Pole.”