Chapter Text
ten.
Sokka, like all children, got his mark when he was ten. Being so distracted by the novelty of it all, he very enthusiastically showed his parents and didn’t notice the shadow of doubt that overcast their faces. “That’s amazing Sokka,” his mother had told him, and Sokka had beamed at her, the very picture of pride. And how could he not be? He had gotten his mark.
There was no doubt about it now. Sokka had a soulmate.
“What does it say?” Sokka had asked curiously.
He traced the lines that made up the name of his soulmate, confused as to why he was unable to read them. The characters weren’t like anything he’d seen before, jagged and complex, whereas the language he did know—the one on his parent’s wrists—was far softer, simpler. These were characters he’d never seen on a single wrist in the tribe, come to think of it.
(He’d later learn that those with different marks almost always left home eventually. Sokka would too, of course—but not for the same reason as all those that came before him.)
“I’ve never seen these letters before," he said, lip curling into an unhappy pout.
Over his head, Kya had given her husband a pointed look, and Hakoda had nodded silently in immediate understanding. The air between them spoke of years spent learning each other, of coming together in the way soulmates should. While he left to do her bidding, his mother had brushed a loose strand of hair from Sokka’s forehead, who hadn’t noticed the small nuances of two people in love. She told him, “That is not the language of our people, Sokka.”
“Oh,” Sokka said, not really understanding what exactly she meant by that. His world began and ended with this large patch of ice, and he knew nothing more. “Where’s it from then?”
His mother gave him a pinched face that also went unnoticed by the boy. “I don’t know,” she told him. “But it’s a land from overseas. I’m certain of that.”
“So then my soulmate isn’t from around here?” Sokka asked, suddenly very excited. His brain was filled to the brim with fantasies of getting on a boat and sailing away to find his soulmate, of going on adventures like in the stories Gran Gran would tell him. “Katara is going to be so jealous when I tell her!”
His mother took both of Sokka’s shoulders in her hands, forcing him to look up at her. He did, a little shocked by her frantic movement. When she spoke, her voice was sharp as ice. “Listen to me Sokka, you can’t show anyone your mark. Not even Katara. Do you understand?”
“Why not?” Sokka asked, blinking at her in confusion. “You and Dad don’t hide your marks.”
“I know, my sweet boy. That’s because your father and I have already found each other and we wanted the whole tribe to know. It’s very different for soulmates with fully formed bonds,” his mother said, her voice losing that hard edge it had a moment ago. “I kept my mark hidden for many years until I was ready to find my soulmate.”
“But I’m ready to find my soulmate now!” Sokka insisted petulantly. “How are they going to know we’re soulmates if I keep my mark covered?”
“It is very rare for one to find their soulmate so early in life,” his mother said. “Those who do must surely be touched by the Spirits themselves. I am not trying to keep you from your destiny Sokka. I just want you to be a good boy and believe that I am doing what’s best for you; and when you’re older, if you want to bear your mark to the world, then I will support you in that decision.”
His father came back in that moment, holding a thick leather bracelet in his hands. It was well worn, and there were beads of varying shade of blue handing from the tassel that would tie the band to his wrist. Sokka’s mother held out a slender hand, her sleeve sliding down her arm, revealing the blue characters on her wrist that made up Hakoda’s name. His father placed the bracelet in her hand before coming around to rest his large hands where Sokka’s mother’s had been previously, a pillar of support for the boy who was about to hide his soul mark from the world.
“This bracelet belonged to your father,” his mother said, giving Sokka a beautiful smile. “He wore it every single day until we found each other. And now we want to give it to you. What do you say, Sokka? Will you wear it for us?”
Sokka stared at the bracelet, and then down at the red lettering on his wrist. He didn’t fully understand why they asked this of him, but he trusted them. “Okay. Just for now though! I’m going to have to take it off when I go searching for my soulmate.”
“I think I can work with that, my sweet boy,” his mother laughed as she secured the band around his wrist. It required a bit of effort because his wrist was still slender, and it wanted to slide down his hand. “You’ll grow into it,” his mother had promised. “Eventually.”
Sokka had in fact grown into the bracelet, but Kya would never see it because she died not many of months later.
thirteen.
Before his father left to fight the war, he sat Sokka down and said he had something to tell him. Sokka had expected to get a stern lecture about making sure that he kept Katara and Gran Gran safe, as well as watching out for everyone in the village as he was the oldest male left since everyone else was going to fight in the war.
That wasn’t exactly what he got.
“I’ve been battling with myself over when was the best time to tell you. Kya had wanted to wait until you were fifteen, when you could join us overseas in the war efforts. But with her gone it hasn’t exactly been easy making the decisions that she used to take care of. I’ve had to play it by ear for many years now, but I think you’re ready to know the truth,” he had said, voice somber. “As ready as you’ll ever be, anyway.”
“What are you talking about?” Sokka asked. “Dad, you’re kinda freaking me about here.”
“Your soul mark,” his father said. “We—your mother and I—were worried about you when we saw it. She recognized the language right away and she feared that the rest of the village would take it as an omen and ostracize you.”
“Mom told me she didn’t know what language it was though,” Sokka said. “I asked her the day it appeared.”
“She lied,” Hakoda admitted, “to protect you. Sokka, I wish to be honest with you. I knew the language as well, and I apologize for keeping it from you. Understand that I wanted to protect you for as long as possible. But with me leaving and having no idea when I’ll be back, I thought you needed to know.”
It felt like bile was stuck in Sokka’s throat. “What language is it?” he asked, but he had an inkling that he already knew what his father was trying to tell him; and he had no idea how to react. With bated breath, Sokka prayed that his father didn’t say what Sokka thought he was going to say. Please, please, please—
“It’s the language from the Fire Nation,” his father said, cutting through Sokka’s hope like a knife.
“I knew it,” Sokka murmured, touching the place where he knew the mark was and finding the thick leather of the bracelet his mother had asked him to wear. Despite the barrier, it felt as though the mark burned. Sokka didn’t know how he'd be able to stand looking at it now.
Hakoda looked taken aback. “How did you know?”
“You and mom always seemed so panicked when it came to my mark. I know you tried to hide it, but I noticed. And when she died I… I started wondering if there was any connection to the war. I didn’t have any way of finding out what the language of the Fire Nation looked like, but I had my suspicions.”
“Sokka, I am so sorry,” his father said. “I should have told you sooner.”
“Do you know what it says, at least?” Sokka asked, going to untie the bracelet that he spent the better part of the last three years wearing like a second skin. Ignoring the way his chest ached when he saw his father’s eyes flash in disgust at the language of the people who murdered his wife, Sokka held his wrist out for Hakoda to read.
“Sokka, I don’t know if—” Hakoda glanced around, looking anxious. It was as though he was worried someone would suddenly appear and see the mark and turn their ire on Sokka. Nobody came though. It was just Sokka, his father and that damned red soul mark on his wrist.
“Dad, please,” Sokka begged. “Please.”
He could see when Hakoda gave in.
Sokka closed his eyes as he felt his dad take his wrist into his hand, forefinger tracing the lines that Sokka had long ago memorized. There was a long pause, and Sokka held his breath while he waited for his father to say something. Anything.
“I can’t read all of it,” his father admitted, and Sokka’s heart fell out his chest and made a home among the ice below his feet. “But, I know this part right here is commonly read as ‘Ko.’”
“‘Ko,’” Sokka repeated, pulling his hand away to look at the part his father had indicated. “‘Ko.’”
In only a couple of years Sokka would be travelling overseas to join his fellow tribesmen in assisting in the war against the Fire Nation. What would he do if he met his soulmate and they were a prisoner? Or worse, what if they were a soldier?
Some part of Sokka—the one still steeped in childish naivety—was almost hopeful that he could figure out something. After all, he was Sokka: strategic, resourceful, quick on his toes. Maybe he could work something out, talk his soulmate down from whatever Fire Nation nonsense they’d been raised on. He could bring them here, to the Water Tribe, and everything would all work out.
Despite being the one entertaining these thoughts, Sokka almost scoffed in disbelief. The Fire Nation birthed ruthlessness. To hope for anything else was a fool's dream.
His father sighed at Sokka and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, much like his mother used to do. “I’ll miss you and Katara,” Hakoda said. “You must be strong for her while I’m gone. Put this soulmate business aside for now and do your duty to the tribe, and to your family.”
Sokka glanced up, tucking his arm and hiding it at his side while he clung to the bracelet with his other hand. “I know, Dad. They come first, no matter what.”
“Good,” Hakoda said, nodding his head. “Remember that. I have to finish packing up. Go find your sister and I’ll come back to say goodbye before we must leave.”
Leave.
Sokka’s stomach churned. He had almost forgotten that his father had wanted to speak to him because he was leaving, off to fight and maybe even die for his freedom.
“Okay, Dad.”
In a decisive moment for the boy, Sokka took that small piece of unfounded hope he had and crushed it like snow beneath his heel. His soulmate was Fire Nation. His father was off to battle Fire Nation in war. His mother had been killed by Fire Nation. There was no hope left to be had. Sokka could not and would not hope for anything, insofar as his soulmate was concerned.
His father left that very day, leaving the village under the protection of a thirteen year old boy who felt as though the other half of him was evil incarnate for taking everything he loved from him.
fifteen.
Aang recognizes his name on Katara’s wrist right away, and he has no qualms about pointing it out the moment he notices. Katara glances down in shock at the swirly gray letters that are visible on her wrist.
Like Sokka, she too had never been able to read the name she had. Nobody could. They had no idea that was because it was written in a language that had been wiped from existence over a hundred years ago because of the destruction of the Air Nomads.
Also like Sokka, she’d been wearing a bracelet to cover the mark since she was ten. Kya had been gone for a year by then, but Hakoda had gifted Katara with the most beautiful turquoise bracelet that used to belong to their mother, and Katara had promised to wear it as Sokka had. And she had kept her promise, wearing it every single day for the next four years.
But it must have slipped off at some point between leaving home and finding Aang, because when Aang had pointed at her soul mark, the bracelet was nowhere to be found. Katara battles with the joy of finding her soulmate and the sadness of losing her mother’s bracelet.
Aang offers to search the waters with her as they head back to the village on a freaking sky bison. They find it floating along a patch of ice, bobbing with the movement of the water. Katara fishes it out of the water, sliding it on the wrist that doesn’t have her mark.
Sokka knows he should feel happy for his sister, and he does. He swears, he’s so happy for her. But some nasty part of him had always been relieved that he and Katara seemed to be cut from the same cloth. Sokka had a name written in the crimson color of the blood spilled by the people his soulmate belongs to, and Karata had a name that no one could even begin to decipher, as gray as a wispy cloud and just as unattainable.
Or so they thought.
Katara had always insisted that the Spirits had a reason for giving her such an unknown mark, and that fate would lead her to her soul mate even if she couldn’t read their name. And they certainly did. So now Sokka was alone again.
There’s a flush of red on her face as Aang takes her wrist and tells her what each character means. “This means ‘Aa.’ Which is different from ‘A’ but kind of similar to ‘Ah,’ which is written like this.” Aang does a vague squiggly motion in the air.
Sokka can’t really follow what the air bender is saying, and he doubts Katara can either. But she's smiling as the boy blabbers on about this and that as they float on the water. She follows the pattern he’s making in the air and tries to copy it.
“Gran Gran is going to lose her mind,” Sokka says, leaning back against the saddle and glancing down at the water. “We went out for fish and instead we’re coming back with Katara’s soulmate.”
“You’re just jealous that we haven’t found your soulmate,” Katara shoots back. “Maybe Aang could help! If you’d let him look at it—”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
Sokka has kept his promise to his mother for five years now, letting no one see his mark. Not even Katara. It had caused a rift in their relationship for many months, but she’d eventually backed down when Gran Gran spoke to her about it (Sokka never showed Gran Gran either, but he long since suspected that she might have known because of the pitying looks she gave him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking). She’s too smart for her own good. One glance at the language of the Fire Nation and she'd probably be able to piece together that her brother’s soulmate was the enemy.
“Well, I’m here if you need me,” Aang says, a bright smile on his face.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sokka says with faux cheer, ignoring the jab at his side from Katara’s sharp elbow.
As expected, Gran Gran does in fact lose her mind. All the village goes gaga over Aang and his air bending and the way he looks at Katara like she hung the moon. They crowd around him asking question after question and Aang is more than happy to answer them all. It goes on for Spirits knows how long before Gran Gran takes pity on the new couple.
“Alright, alright,” Gran Gran says, her hand resting on the head of a particularly excitable child. “Why don’t we give these two the chance to get to know each other, yes? There’s still many chores left to be done and we’ve dallied long enough.”
Being the village’s elder, everyone tends to take Gran Gran’s words like law and they’re quick to scatter. Sokka follows. He could stay, but he would much rather rally up the boys for their daily dose of warrior training rather than being a third wheel while Katara takes Aang for a tour of the village. Not that there’s much to see.
After gathering the kiddos and talking them out of potty breaks every five minutes, he leads them through the motions his father taught him before he left. Jab. Perry. Swing. Slice. They use sticks rather than an actual weapon, but Sokka isn’t about to hand a six year old a spear. It’s a recipe for disaster.
“What’s that?” one of the snot nosed kids asks, pointing at something behind Sokka’s head as Sokka is trying to explain how his boomerang works.
In the Southern Water Tribe, there’s not much to see but igloos and ice. Except for, apparently, the old Fire Nation warship. Sokka doesn’t realize what he’s looking at first. It’s a flash of light in the sky—like a flare. No. Not like a flare. It is a flare.
“Oh no,” Sokka says, barely restraining a curse, breaking out into a run towards that stupid ship that his dad had always warned them to stay away from. Katara should know better, oh Spirits—
He runs into Katara and Aang running along the trail towards the village, hands clasped together. Sokka immediately turns his rage to Aang, who takes a step back at the look of anger painted all over Sokka’s face.
“You!” He pokes Aang hard in the chest. The boy stumbles. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The Fire Nation is going to be on our asses now because of you. Did you do it on purpose, you traitor?”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Of course you didn’t mean to do it,” Sokka sneers, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You just decided to show up and shoot off a flare from a Fire Nation warship for no reason, right?”
“No that’s not it at all! This was a big misunderstanding,” Aang says, face pleading.
A crowd of villagers has formed, staring at Aang—and by association Katara—with suspicion and anger and fear. Sokka’s anger evaporates in an instant, replaced by an anxiety over what the village may do to his sister if they think she's a traitor.
No, Sokka thinks, this isn’t how it should be. It’s Sokka they should be fearing, and they certainly would be fearing him if they knew the truth. Sokka is the one who has a traitor for a soulmate, an enemy.
And while Sokka may not trust Aang as far as he can throw him, it doesn’t change the fact that he is Katara’s soulmate. He has her name on his wrist in the deepest cerulean Sokka has ever seen, and that has to account for something. Why would the universe put Katara with someone evil? No, there has to be something else going on here.
But it’s too late, Sokka has lit the flame and enraged the other tribe members. Despite Aang's best efforts, it doesn’t stop the rest of the village from forcing him out. It also doesn’t stop Katara from insisting she’s going to go with Aang and not abandon her soulmate the very same day she meets him. Miraculously, Aang manages to convince her to stay with her people for the time being, promising that he’s going to get everything sorted out before sailing away on his massive bison.
“Family is everything, Katara,” he had said, gripping her hand tightly. “I don’t want to get in the way of that.”
When he leaves Katara is inconsolable, ugly crying into her sleeves; Gran Gran is forlorn but as steady as an iceberg; and Sokka has a rag tag group of boys that he needs to prepare for battle against fully grown Fire Nation soldiers that could land on their shores at any moment. Nothing is going as it should.
Sokka hears the ship well before he sees it. There’s explosions in the distance, pops and crackles of fire that carry from the expanse of water to his ears. Squinting against the mist, Sokka tries his best to figure out what direction the noise is coming from, but with visibility at near zero it’s almost impossible.
He doesn’t see the ship until it’s right in front of him, and with little choice, Sokka decides to fight for his people. If he dies at the hand of the Fire Nation, so be it. Sokka will fight. He does fight. Sokka fights with all his might, and it isn’t enough. Not until Aang appears again and gives himself up for their safety, effectively revealing his identity as the avatar.
Somehow—miraculously—it all works out. Aang is rescued, the Southern Water Tribe survives for another day, and Sokka is on his way to the Northern Water Tribe with his sister and the avatar. And despite all of the fear of dying, despite the shock at meeting the avatar and having him be his sister’s soulmate, this day will forever be seared into Sokka’s mind for one reason and one reason only: it’s the first time Sokka meets his soulmate.
He just doesn’t know it yet.
A couple of weeks later they're flying overseas on Appa when Katara shoves a wrinkled piece of paper beneath Sokka’s nose and asks, “Sokka, what does this say?”
It’s obvious she’s had it stuffed into her bag for some time, and it’s been crumpled up and straightened out multiple times. One glance at the paper tells him that it’s written in the language of the Fire Nation. “I don’t know. I can’t read the Fire Nation’s language.”
His stomach twists uncomfortably, feeling like a lie. It’s not a lie though. Not really. Sokka can read one character in the Fire Nation language, and nothing else.
“I can!” Aang says happily, taking the paper out of Katara’s hand and translating it for them at rapid speed. Apparently it’s about them. It’s a wanted poster. There’s a description of all three of them, plus Appa, and their last known location of Omashu. Aang doesn’t seem to mind the fact that they’re on the run from the Fire Nation, and tells the pair, “You know, I can teach you how to read the Fire Nation’s language, if you want! We can start with this wanted poster. It’s not much but at least it’s a start.”
“Really?” Katara asks happily, eyes shining. She plasters herself to Aang’s side before wildly gesturing to Sokka. “We would really appreciate it. Come on Sokka, Aang is going to teach us how to read this paper.”
“I’ll pass thanks,” Sokka says, feigning casualness to try and hide the pounding of his heart.
“Sokka,” Katara says, exacerbated. “We have to learn how to read these things. We could come across something important and we wouldn’t even know it because we never took the chance to learn how to read it.”
"Meh, I'll burn that bridge when I get to it," Sokka says with a shrug.
"That's not even how the saying goes! You're insufferable," Katara says with a scowl. "Aang, forget about Sokka. I'm willing to learn."
"Uh, sure Katara," Aang says slowly before pointing down at the paper. "This word here means criminal!"
Sokka does his best to tune them out for the rest of the afternoon.
Later that night, while Aang and Katara are sleeping, Sokka rifles through Katara’s bag until he finds that damned wanted poster. He unfurls it, careful where it’s become delicate from all the folding and unfolding, and he stares down at the foreign writing. His eyes follow the lines of unfamiliar characters, looking for the ones he’s long since memorized. When he finds nothing, he doesn't know whether to feel relief or not. Sokka shoves the paper back into Katara’s bag and turns around to go to sleep.
The next morning he apologizes to Katara and asks Aang to teach him how to read the wanted poster. As much as it pains him to admit it, Katara had been right. It’s important that Sokka starts learning how to read the language of the Fire Nation, and if he comes across the characters that make up the name of his soulmate, well now that’s a bridge Sokka will burn when he gets to it.
The Northern Water Tribe is so much bigger than that small rinky-dink patch of ice that Sokka calls home. Better yet, the Northern Tribe has Yue.
From the beginning they both know that they aren’t each other’s soulmates, but Yue still kisses him anyway.
And then she pushes him away and tells him this is a bad idea. She's engaged apparently, but before Sokka has a chance to feel any sort of guilt about what they'd done, she shows her wrists to him. Bare. A bare wrist. No mark. Spirits, Sokka didn't even know you could be born without a soulmate.
"I don't have a soulmate," she tells him. "My fiance does, but he and my father hardly think that matters when it comes to the sanctity of the tribe. I think it's wrong, to not care for your other half, but there's little I can do in that regard."
"Yue—"
"I'm telling you this because I don't want to get in the way of you and your soulmate when you finally meet them," Yue barrels on, clinging tightly to his hands. "I don't want to get in the way of two fated pairs. I won't do it."
"My soulmate is from the Fire Nation," Sokka blurts, and immediately wishes he could take it back when he sees the way Yue's eyes widen in horror. "I don't want them, whoever they are. I don’t want them."
"Sokka…"
“I—” Sokka chokes on his fear. “Crap, why did I say that? Yue, please don’t tell anyone. Please.”
“Sokka, I’m not going to tell anyone,” Yue says, voice as soft as a rain. “But, I think you should. You should tell your sister, at the very least.”
“I can’t,” Sokka says, anxiety threatening to bubble over. He shakes his head roughly. “Imagine what people will think of me. The Fire Nation has destroyed so many lives, they killed our mom and took our dad. And someone from there is my other half—the echo of my heart. If Katara was to find out… You don’t understand, Yue.”
“Then make me understand,” Yue says. “Sokka, I don’t believe we can be together given the circumstances, but I am still willing to lend a much needed ear as a friend. I promise that anything you may want to get off your chest will never leave my lips after this night.”
And so Sokka talks. He talks about getting his mark, about his mother begging for him to hide the mark and then dying not even a year later at the hands of the very people his soulmate belongs to. He talks about the way his father always looked at him with a tinge of disappointment because of who his soulmate was. He talks about being unable to read his mark, and being terrified of the day he’ll finally be able to. He talks about the fear he feels about being discovered, the fear that Katara will hate him and his village will ostracize him. Sokka talks and talks until he’s hoarse and shaking from the over abundance of emotions.
“Oh Sokka. Come here.” Yue hugs him tightly, very politely ignoring the way her shoulder quickly becomes damp with his tears. She’s too nice. Sokka wishes she was his soulmate instead. Or he wishes that at the very least she had a soulmate of her own. It's unfair that such a gentle soul wasn’t destined to have another half.
They stay there for a couple of minutes, rocking together. To an outsider, Sokka is sure it would look like some romantic tryst, but that’s not it at all, even if he had wished it to be earlier this evening. Eventually Sokka’s shoulders manage to stop shaking and he breathes in deep her scent, trying to calm his pounding heart.
“I needed this,” Sokka mumbles into her shoulder before pulling back and wiping at his face in an attempt to hide the tears Yue already knows are there. “I just realized how bad it’s sucked keeping this all bottled up. Felt like I was gonna explode.”
Yue smiles at him, a gentle thing that touched Sokka’s soul. “Catharsis is necessary. It’s healthy, even. I’m very glad you trusted me with this, Sokka.”
“Me too,” Sokka says. “Even though I didn’t mean to. Sorry about taking up so much of your time. We should probably be heading back soon.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Yue agrees, but makes no move to start walking. “But before we do, I want to tell you something. About what you said, that you can’t actually read your mark…”
“Yeah?”
“Do you… Do you want me to read it for you?” Yue asks, and it’s as though the world stops. “I can read the language used in the Fire Nation, so if you wanted to finally know, I could read it for you. It’s your choice though.”
Sokka touches the cuff on his wrist. “I don’t know if I’m ready yet.”
“That’s okay.” Yue leans back, staring up into the night sky. “But Sokka, you can’t outrun fate forever. That’s why it’s called fate. The day will come when you have to come face to face with your destiny, and it will be much better if you have people there to support you.”
“Is this your way of telling me I should tell Katara again?” Sokka asks, but he already knows the answer. “I’ll tell her. I promise that I will. Just give me some more time, yeah?”
“Time is a precious thing, best not to waste it.”
Sokka wonders if maybe Yue knew more about this whole moon business than she’d been letting on, because when she’s gone from the mortal world and glowing in the night sky, Sokka spends many nights staring at her and wondering about this very conversation.
You can’t outrun fate.
Time is precious.
She’d been right, of course, but Sokka never really doubted her to begin with.
“So,” Toph says, leaning back against a massive rock while she watches Aang and Katara work through their water bending techniques. “What’s your soulmate’s name?”
Sokka chokes on his own spit. “W-What?”
“I thought I’d ask,” Toph says with a shrug of her shoulders. “Seeing as Twinkle Toes and Sweetness over there are so obviously soulmates.”
“How could you tell?”
The only answer Sokka gets is a snort which, okay that’s fair. Anyone could tell that those two were a fated pair, even if they have yet to seal their bond with a kiss.
“I can’t read it,” Sokka says after it becomes obvious Toph isn't going to let this go. “I don’t know what it says.”
“That’s a lie,” Toph says immediately, and Sokka spares a silent curse for forgetting she can feel when someone’s lying. She squints, head cocking to one side. “Or, half a lie. Come on, spill.”
Sokka glances at Katara and Aang as they practically splash around in the water rather than actually honing their craft. It would probably be in his best interest to keep his mouth shut, but well, Toph is blind so it’s not like she could be able to tell where his mark is from anyway. “I can read one of the characters, but not the whole thing,” he admits.
“Oh. Not knowing what your mark says must suck,” Toph tells, reaching out and patting him on the thigh. “I feel for you.”
“So does that mean you know what your mark says?” Sokka asks.
“I sure do!” Toph says, touching her arm happily. The mark is covered by a thick copper band around her wrist, but she pulls it off and shows it to him without a hint of shame. Sokka quickly averts his eyes, catching the barest hint of a green character. “I had to pay some kid to read it to me because my parents never wanted to tell me, but I’ll find her one day.”
Sokka smiles. “That’s cool.”
It’s nice to see someone so optimistic about their soulmate, especially when Dad’s soulmate was dead, they’d been confused about Katara’s soulmate for four long years before he turned up and was the freaking avatar, and Sokka’s soulmate was on the opposite side of the war. It was refreshing to see a normal girl with a normal soulmate. Sokka is almost jealous.
“You know, why don’t you just pay someone to read your mark for you?” Toph asks. “Like I did! I’m sure there’s someone around that can read it. What language is it in?”
“Oh, uh…”
“Are you guys talking about Sokka’s soulmate?” Katara asks, suddenly standing over them with her hands on her hips. Sokka hadn’t even heard her get out of the water. “Good luck trying to get any information out of him. He’s never even told me, his sister.”
Sokka clutches his wrist to his chest. “I think it’s private, is all!”
“Oh, come on Sokka! You know all of ours. I literally saw Toph show you her mark a second ago!” Katara points at the way Toph is holding her cuff in one hand and leaving her wrist completely visible.
“I didn’t look!” Sokka insists.
“Why are you so secretive about it?” Katara asks haughtily, crossing her arms. “Why don’t you want to tell me? What, it’s not like it’s someone from the Fire Nation, is it?”
Sokka knows that she’s not really serious from the way she phrases her question, but he can’t help the way he freezes, heart constricting tightly in a deep rooted panic. Tongue heavy in his mouth, Sokka can’t find any words. He stares at the ground and allows his companions to come to their own conclusions based on his silence.
“Sokka,” Katara says, and Sokka shuts his eyes against the tone of her voice—a blend of disbelief and shock. “Is your soulmate from the Fire Nation?”
Katara’s voice takes off a softer tone as she asks that question, like a mother trying to console a scared child, and Sokka can’t bring himself to look at her. He can’t bring himself to look at any of them, terrified of what he’ll find if he does look up.
“Oh, Sokka.” There’s a shuffle that he flinches against, and to his surprise a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders. Opening his eyes in shock, Sokka is greeted with a sea of brown hair. Katara. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Scared,” is the first thing Sokka can say, his face pressing against her bare shoulder. If he’s being honest with himself, Sokka is still kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s waiting for the truth to finally register for Katara, waiting for her to push him away and look at him with nothing but disdain in her eyes.
But that’s not what happens. In fact, Katara is quickly joined by Aang, and then Toph. Sokka doesn’t realize he’s crying until the sob escapes his throat. Before Sokka knows it, he’s full blown crying as he’s being held by the people he now considers his family. If it were any other circumstance, Sokka would probably feel pretty embarrassed about breaking down in front of them all. But as things currently stand, he’s just happy he’s not being booted out of the group.
“You’re my brother, and I will always love you no matter what,” Katara says as she clings to him tightly. “Do you understand me Sokka?”
Sokka nods frantically, unable to form words.
Katara pulls away, hands coming up to cradle Sokka’s face. Her thumb brushes against his cheekbone, comforting as she brushes away the tears that have collected on his skin. “Despite what you may think Sokka, your soulmate may be the echo of your heart, but you are still your own person. Take it from someone who’s met their soulmate: things don’t always click immediately. It takes effort. Sometimes it feels like Aang and I are like day and night.”
“Really? But you two seem so in sync,” Sokka murmurs, but he knows they’re all able to hear him. That draws laugh out of both Katara and Aang though, which makes him feel a lot better.
“Sokka, let me ask you this: do you feel like a complete human being?” Katara asks him.
“What—”
“Answer my question,” Katara demands. “Do you, without your soulmate, feel like you are complete?”
“Yeah,” Sokka says. “Yes.”
“I think you need to understand that your soulmate isn’t necessarily a manifestation of who you are as a person, despite the term we use. You already are a complete soul. Your other half is meant to help you grow, help you learn. Who they are doesn’t define who you are, Sokka.”
“Oh. Sounds less life altering when you put it like that,” Sokka admits.
“I’m not going to judge you for who your soulmate is,” Katara says. “None of us are. Right, guys?”
“Right!”
“Yup.”
Sokka smiles, a wobbly upturn of his lips, and sinks into the group hug fully, all those five years worth of anxiety over being discovered finally seeping out of him.
“Soooo… what’s the name, then?” Aang asks, only to receive a very sharp jab to the side from Katara. “Ouch! Hey, that hurt!”
“Aang! You can’t just ask that! Sokka will tell us when he’s ready.”
“Yeah, Twinkle Toes, that was a bad call,” Toph says with a snicker, and Katara’s ire turns on her in an instant.
“You’re the one who brought this up in the first place, Toph!”
Toph sputters, “Hey, I was totally willing to drop it! You’re the one who marched over here demanding he tell us what language his mark was in. That is not my fault.”
“Yeah!” Aang yells in agreement.
Sokka laughs, pulling away from the hug and wiping his dripping nose with the back of his hand. “Okay, enough fighting. I already told Toph that I can’t actually read the whole mark anyway. So, I can’t really tell you what the name is.”
“I can read it for you if you want!” Aang says, always trying to be helpful.
“No thanks,” Sokka says. “I appreciate the offer but I don't think I’m ready yet.”
“Is that why you were so against learning how to read the Fira Nation’s language?” Katara asks. “Because you knew you’d come to learn how to read your soulmate’s name sooner rather than later.”
“Yeah,” Sokka admits. “I know I can’t exactly avoid it forever but… I’d like to hold it off for as long as possible. I hope you guys can understand that.”
“You can’t outrun fate forever though,” Toph warns, the very echo of what Yue had told him before. “It’ll catch up with you eventually.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sokka says, and he does know. Doesn’t stop him from trying, though.
The thing about fate is that it doesn't care if you’re ready or not. Fate will happen when it wants to happen, and you simply have to deal with the repercussions.
The're almost to Ba Sing Se when Sokka finds the wanted poster for Prince Zuko and his uncle Iroh, who are now apparently deserters of the Fire Nation and on the run like the rest of them.
After walking for an entire day on foot, Katara had decided they were going to set up camp for the night to rest up. Toph and Katara had stayed back to set up “camp,” which was a series of very shoddy tents that had to be carried on their actual backs since they no longer had Appa. Lightweight and easy to carry had been deemed more important than comfort and sturdy. In the meanwhile Aang and Sokka were sent to collect firewood and maybe something to eat. Aang had offered to collect the firewood and so Sokka had set off to find something they could eat.
When he sees the poster, he’s at the edge of a body of water with a spear he’s spent the past couple of days whittling to a fine point, waiting for any little fishies that might come swimming down the stream. There’s a wicker basket that they bought in a nearby town slung over his shoulder, and he’s already caught two fish. All he needs is one more for him, and then they can figure out a way to work around Aang’s vegetarianism.
Maybe there’s some berries laying around that he can snack on.
Sokka is snickering to himself as he imagines Aang looking sad with a handful of berries while everyone else in their group had their fill of delicious fish. That’s when he catches sight of the lone piece of paper tacked to one of trees by a part of the shore that evidently gets a lot of foot traffic. Leaving his spear at the water’s edge, Sokka walks over to the tree to get a better look.
The wanted poster is singed around the edges, as if someone had lit it aflame (or tried to), and water worn from being up for some time. At first Sokka doesn’t even pay attention to the writing, too busy squinting at the likeness of the guy who’s spent months chasing them to every corner of the world. It’s pretty accurate, he thinks. The hair’s not the same though. The Prince had grown out his hair, if Sokka remembers correctly from their brief team up at Tu Zin when his crazy sister and her friends insisted on attacking them all.
Sokka’s shoddy knowledge of the Fire Nation language allows him to skim through Zuko’s description and last known sighting with some vague understanding. Funnily enough, it reminds him a lot of his own wanted poster that he knows Katara still keeps in her bag. They somehow always manage to get that thing back even after losing it in the middle of whatever scuffle they’ve managed to get themselves roped into.
It isn’t until Sokka glances up and sees a series of very familiar characters next to each other that his blood freezes in his veins. It almost doesn’t want to register in his brain, the way that Prince Zuko’s name is written. No. No, that can’t be right. Right?
Oh Spirits.
“What are you looking at?” Aang asks, coming up next to Sokka and shocking him into a yelp. A pile of dry twigs and sticks is tucked under one arm, and the other is pointing at the poster in Sokka’s hands. The poster is immediately crumpled in his fist as Sokka says, “Nothing,” in the squeakiest voice ever. “Nothing at all!”
“That doesn’t sound like nothing,” Aang says, brow furrowing and lips curling into a little pout. A shine of mischief is born in his eyes, and that is all the warning Sokka gets before Aang is floating up around Sokka’s shoulder, using the element of surprise to pluck the poster out of his hand.
“Hey!”
Aang ignores that sound of protest, jumping out of Sokka’s attempt to grab at the little air bender, and stands on a tree branch well out of Sokka’s range. With a smile he unfurls the poster and squints at it. The smile falls from his lips almost instantly, replaced with an intense curiosity. “Whoa.”
“Crazy, right?” Sokka asks, going for casual. “Who would have thought the prince of the Fire Nation would fall as lowly as the rest of us? It’s surprising.”
“Yeah,” Aang agrees, twisting the paper side to side as he squints at it. He seems very preoccupied with the contents of the poster, and Sokka breathes a sigh of relief at having successfully avoided talking about his panic from earlier. “Katara look at this!”
As Aang flies off towards the camp to show Katara this new development, Sokka wants to rip the poster from Aang’s hand and look at it again to be sure. He wants to stare at that piece of paper until his eyes dry out from how little he’s blinking.
But there’s honestly no need.
Sokka had spent the last five years committing every single crimson stroke of his mark to memory. He doesn’t even have to take off his bracelet to check. The two were, without a doubt, a perfect match.
Prince Zuko was his soulmate.