Chapter 1: The wild card
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel
Cover art by: TheRisingWing (Ao3) (instagram)
Music: Heart by heart - Demi Lavato
Length: 10:42
chapter 01 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
M4B of entire series 06:03:04
mirror download on the audiofic archive
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“Let the Avatar go, Zhao,” Zuko rasps.
“So you can have the Avatar for yourself?” Zhao snorts. “I think not.”
Sokka watches as Zuko points two very sharp, lethal blades in Zhao’s direction, looking like he fully intends to use them, and wonders what in the spirit’s name is going on.
The jerk of a prince who has previously been the biggest pain in the GAang’s collective behinds looks the most battle-worn Sokka’s ever seen him. Dark hair is falling loose from its ponytail, and the white cloth of Zuko’s outfit is stained with drops of red and smudges of dirt. Deep shadows line the firebender’s eyes, as if he hasn’t slept in a while.
Sokka’s eyes flicker from Zuko to Zhao, who has Aang in his grip, with a weird glowy circle between them.
“Let him go,” Zuko repeats. “The Avatar isn’t yours for the taking.”
“His name is Aang ,” Sokka interjects, because other than the cheesy melodramatic lines that’s being acted out in front of him right now, the way they’re treating Aang like an object rather than the kid he is is just rude , “And he’s not yours for the taking either.”
Both firebenders ignore him. Which, that’s perfectly fine, because Sokka’s main goal is to get Aang out of Zhao’s grasp and as far away from pyromaniacs and honour-bound princes as possible.
Not that Aang’s making it easy for him.
Aang’s arrows and eyes glow a luminescent blue, and even the strange stillness of the Spirit Oasis they’re all in isn’t enough to mask the thrum of power and otherworldliness that emanate from his small, still figure.
“Your plan won’t work,” Zuko growls at Zhao. It sure is nice to have his aggression pointed away from their group for once, Sokka thinks distantly. He wonders if and how he can set this up so they can destroy each other while he makes away with Aang.
“What is the plan?” Sokka asks loudly, trying to buy some time so he can plan a way out of this. “Please, do enlighten us.” He’s not got much hope, but maybe one of them will be idiotic enough to spill...
Apparently, Zhao’s one of those people who can’t resist bragging about how smart he is, because he chuckles. “I will harness the Avatar’s centuries of power. After tonight, I shall have the power of the Avatar for myself!” he proclaims. “I will henceforth be known as Avatar Slayer Zhao, the one who took hold of destiny!”
Which, okay, that’s a new one. “Uh?” Sokka says intelligibly. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
“He plans to bind the Avatar’s soul to his,” Zuko says, not taking his eyes off General mutton-chop, or so Sokka’s taken to calling him in his head. “So he can harness the Avatar’s power.”
“Um, I’m not an expert, but that sounds - stupid,” Sokka says.
“And dangerous,” Zuko agrees, inching slightly forward. “Because the Avatar state isn’t something you just transplant to another human. It’ll throw everything off balance. If you continue, you’ll destroy yourself in the process.”
Zhao laughs, leering at Zuko. “How touching your concern for me is, Prince Zuko. ” The honorific is a sneer, lacking the respect that Sokka assumes royal brats like Zuko feel entitled to. “It’s an appealing image.”
That’s a… weird way to phrase it. Sokka notices for the first time the predatory way the general is looking at Zuko, his eyes raking across the other boy’s frame. Something crawls up his spine, and Sokka’s motivation to wrestle Aang out of Zhao’s grasp renews tenfold.
“You’re sick,” Zuko spits at General Mutton Chop. He’s bristling like an owlcat, but Sokka notices his grasp on his blades are steady as ever.
“And you aren’t?” Zhao asks silkily. “Come on now, don’t pretend your motives are altruistic.”
“They’re not,” Zuko’s honesty sure is refreshing. “I just know you’ll only listen if it involves you and your self-preservation. You don’t care about anything else.”
Zhao snorts. “Of course not. I’m not a weak-hearted coward who needs to learn respect like you, little prince .”
There’s some story there, because strangely, Zuko flinches. Sokka eyes Zhao dubiously. He doesn’t have particularly generous opinions of Zuko, but weak and coward aren't adjectives he would have used to describe him -if anything, their aggravatingly persistent shouty pursuer seems to err on the wrong side of recklessness half the time. But he’s perfectly happy to let Zhao tear into the guy's spirit if it helps them get away. Enemy of my enemy and all that.
Yue has been a tense presence at Sokka’s back up to that point. But all the women in Sokka’s life have proven to be strong-willed and speak for themselves, and she is no exception.
“General Zhao,” she intonates evenly, every bit the headstrong daughter of a chief Sokka knows and loves her for, “I must ask that you release Avatar Aang and take this altercation outside of the spirit Oasis. This is sacred ground. We should not defile it with such human pettiness.”
The moment Zhao looks at her, Sokka wants to smack him and shield Yue from his gaze. “My apologies, princess,” Zhao says, his tone anything but. “This ground is indeed sacred, and for that reason it serves my purposes with the Avatar tonight.”
“His name is Aang,” Sokka repeats, aggravated and disturbed by how creepy that phrasing was. “And he’s not an object for you to take!”
Zhao throws him an unimpressed look. “Who are you again, a servant?”
“What-” Sokka squawks, unable to contain his embarrassment that this is taking place in front of Yue. “I am Sokka, and I’ll have you know I am the son of Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe!”
Zhao’s expression doesn’t even flicker, even as the circle under his feet begin to glow. Spirits, Sokka hates his stupid ugly muttonchops so so much at that moment. “Unimportant, then. The Southern Water Tribe is near-decimated. The sooner they go extinct, just like the air nomads the better.”
The Spirit Oasis is a sea of muted blues and teals, but Sokka sees red.
“You-”
“How dare you-”
Sokka and Yue are both shouting at once ( Spirits Sokka loves her spirit ), but Zuko, whose lung capacity and experience in exploding other people’s eardrums apparently overrides them both, is able to raise his voice to be heard above theirs.
“NO, don’t step into the circle!”
Sokka, whose toes are mere inches away from touching the eerie circle at Zhao’s feet, springs back. “Why not?” he asks, then wonders if he can trust whatever answers Zuko’s about to give him.
“It’ll make you part of the ritual,” Zuko answers, like that makes the slightest bit of sense. But then when has this ponytailed freak ever? “Zhao, I’m warning you-”
“Your warnings mean nothing to me. You can’t harm me, Prince Zuko, you have no power.” Zhao raises Aang’s still-glowing form in one hand, touching his arrow in the other. The earlier thrum of energy multiplies tenfold, to the point Sokka feels it pressing down on his lungs. “I tire of your antics.”
Several things happen at once.
Zuko darts forward straight into the circle, breaking his own advice.
Sokka aims right for where Zhao’s wrist is and throws Boomerang.
Blinding light erupts from the circle on the ground, followed by a sound Sokka can only describe as explosive.
Energy splinters everywhere, powerful and untameable like a hurricane in the middle of the oasis.
Sokka can’t see Yue.
“Yue!” Sokka blindly reaches out to the nearest point of warmth. The light and sound intensity; his eardrums and eyes feel like they're going to explode from the overwhelming stimuli of sensation.
A rough hand brushes his own. Color and sound seem to bleed away, its lack somehow more terrifying than before.
Something is urging Sokka, pulling him, pushing like an ebb and flow he doesn’t understand. Sokka’s always been more a leader than a follower, but in the presence of something spiritual he doesn’t understand, he gives in and he follows.
Everything fades out.
Chapter 2: The aggressor
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel
Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 10:26
chapter 02 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Sokka comes back to consciousness the way he imagines thunder comes to life: explosively, and without warning.
There is no moment of half-wakefulness in between. He goes from unconscious to fully aware in a heartbeat, his body jerking into a sitting position like his muscles have no choice but to obey.
“Sokka! You’re okay!”
Ocean blue eyes meet his own, the anxiety in them giving way to relief. Even half covered in dust and strands of hair falling out of its careful, elegant arrangement, Yue manages to look as lovely as a dream.
“Of course I am! Gonna take more than that to bring me down!” Sokka shoots her his most dashing smile even as he’s trying to figure out what in the Spirits’ name just happened -
-Aang’s prone form tightly bound, eyes and arrows glowing as Zhao stands across him-
- Zhao reaching across to brush his fingers against Aang’s arrow like the world’s biggest creep-
-Sokka racing to drag Aang back from that circle, at the same time as Zuko attempts to grab Zhao-
-A thunderous crack, blinding light splintering through-
“Where- where’s Aang?” Sokka demands. He attempts to get his knees under him, but they buckle like seaweed. Which is frustrating, because his entire body is buzzing with a whole lot of energy with nowhere to go, and he feels like he’s going to explode from it. “Did Zhao-”
“Sokka, I’m here!”
Sokka looks around to see Aang with his normal non-glowy gray eyes and non-glowy arrow tattoo. Oh, thank the Spirits. He feels a moment’s relief that Aang’s in one piece and whatever weird shit Zhao was trying to do doesn’t seem to have harmed him in any way that is visible.
Then he catches sight of who Aang currently has one arm around, which-
“Aang, what the heck?” Sokka demands.
Aang’s supporting a familiar pony-tailed form that hangs limply off him. From the once-over Sokka gives him, Zuko seems to be in one piece too, but he’s currently unconscious, and that’s about as far as Sokka wants to know.
“The Spirit Oasis was falling in,” Aang says by way of explanation “You two would have been crushed. We only just got the both of you out.”
“Why are you helping him ? He’s a bad guy!”
“I couldn’t just leave him there, Sokka,” Aang defended. “I didn’t tell you this before, but this isn’t the first time Zuko’s helped me get away from Zhao-”
“Yeah, for his own reasons ,” Sokka argues. Clearly there’s a story there, but Sokka ‘s not interested.Why is he consistently the only member on the team who can see sense? “Because he wants to capture you ! You should have just left him there-”
“He would have died, Sokka!” Aang’s lips thinned. “The air nomads taught me that all life is sacred. I’m not about to go against it- I have nothing left but their teachings to carry with me!”
Sokka snaps his mouth shut at that, even though his body’s humming with disapproval. With all his levity and flightiness, it’s easy to forget that Aang is carrying a lot of grief and badly dealt-with loss. It’s easy to dismiss.
The subject of their argument chooses that moment to stir. Zuko coughs, his entire frame shaking with the force of it. Despite his defensiveness of the enemy in their midst, Aang tenses as Zuko’s unscarred eye opens in a slit.
Sokka’s not sure why, but whatever tingly, buzzy feeling that’s been invading his body seems to lighten a little when Zuko fully opens his eyes. There’s a moment where Zuko just stares out in a sort of hazy confusion, like he doesn’t quite understand where he is.
… H-how am I still alive?
Sokka flinches back because whoaaa, how in Spirits name did Zuko project his voice like that? Sokka didn’t even see him move his lips.
As if he can hear Sokka’s thoughts, Zuko turns his head to look directly at him.
And this is where Sokka realises something is very, very wrong.
The moment blue eyes meet wary gold, there’s a spark. And Sokka does not mean that in a romantic sense.
A jolt of power zaps from Sokka’s chest, arcing from him to Zuko and back again in a bright line, gold laced with blue. Sokka yelps and absolutely does not stumble backwards, not in front of Yue, nope. He just-- inches in that direction a little.
Zuko however jerks back with a muffled curse. Sokka gets the sense that the firebender would have fallen over if Aang hadn’t been there to hold him up.
“What-”
“What was-”
They both say at the same time, then stop. Zuko’s eyes are wild. Then his head swivels fully towards his left where Aang is holding him upright. When he realises who it is, the firebender jerks out of the grip so sharply that even Sokka feels the forcefulness from where he’s standing.
“Wait,” Aang’s saying, “I don’t think you can stand on your own yet-” but Zuko’s already folding to his knees.
The Avatar!
Aang, Sokka corrects, even as he flinches as well, because Zuko’s voice is loud, and scratchy, and reverberating in a weird way. Did the jerk prince somehow manage to learn voice projection between the days he’s been hunting them?
Zuko bristles and scowls at him. “I didn’t! Do you think I had time for that sort of nonsense?”
Sokka blinks. “Uh?” Did he say that aloud?
Zuko’s glare gets even fiercer. “Stop playing games! I can hear you just fine!”
What-? His features are every bit those of the aggressive and violent firebender Sokka remembers coming upon to terrorize his village. On a normal day, Sokka would charge and not think twice.
Yet whatever Sokka’s seeing from Zuko’s features right now, somehow all he can feel is- fear. Fear and anxiety and utter exhaustion thudding through a pattern of heartbeats too fast and plain weird to feel like his own.
Zuko doesn’t look like it, because nothing shows on his face save that ever-present rage, but he’s...scared.
“I’m not!” Zuko snaps.
“Sure,” Sokka answers without the slightest inch of belief. Whatever the guy wants to tell himself, right? Somehow that insight makes Zuko a lot less intimidating a threat, and a lot more… fallible, a human.
Sokka wonders how he’s never seen it before. But then that’s quite an easy answer, isn’t it? Maybe Zuko’s severe features are thrown into harsher light by the ugly scar.
The moment he finishes that thought, it’s like something pangs sharply in his chest, but not really in his chest? Sokka can’t be sure, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. In front of his eyes, Zuko falters for just a second, and then flushes a brilliant red.
“That’s low of you to say,” he mutters curtly to Sokka, who blinks back in shock. He’s very sure he hasn’t said it aloud this time “I didn't think you’d stoop that low, but then I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less from a water tribe savage.”
The last words are a sneer, and whatever half-hearted contrition Sokka’s dredged up immediately disappears.
“Wait, Sokka-” Yue says from behind him, but Sokka’s already marching forward right to where the firebender is still on his knees. His head feels light and almost delirious, but his legs no longer feel as weak as they had before, perhaps carried forward by his anger.
“How dare you call us savages, you entitled, violent asshole of a jerkbender!” Sokka rants, grabbing Zuko by the front of his stupid bloodied white shirt and dragging him up until they’re eye-level.
This close he can actually see Zuko’s fear bright in his golden eyes. The firebender flinches and raises his hands, but no flame comes out, as Sokka had somehow known they wouldn’t, and he takes the opportunity to dig his fingers in further.
“Sokka-” Aang tries, but Sokka doesn’t stop shaking him. “ You pop out of nowhere and attack our village, then you chase us across the world for bloody months, giving us the worst time of our lives, then you pop out of nowhere in the Spirit Oasis that’s supposed to be neutral ground to get Aang from another pyromaniac for glory or whatever spirits-cursed sake, and you call us the savages?! Do you realise how hypocritical that is?”
“Sokka!” Aang and Yue both shout, and that’s when Sokka finally hears them through the roaring in his ears. He blinks at them, suddenly realising how breathless he feels, how his heart is pounding away merrily in his ribcage.
“Get your filthy hands off me,” Zuko hisses, but…
“Something’s wrong,” Aang says, his tone taking on that rare authoritative note that reminds people he’s more than just a wide-eyed twelve year old. “Sokka, let go of Zuko.”
Sokka does just that, blinking at the sudden tightness in his chest. Zuko’s knees fold like paper, before he grits his teeth and stubbornly manages to get one leg from underneath him despite the way they refuse to cooperate.
That’s probably because of the way Zhao’s blade tried to slice through his tendons earlier , Sokka hears... or thinks? and he’s not really sure how he knows that and okay he’s really really starting to get freaked out-
Aang reaches out to steady prince jerkbender, because he’s a naive kid with a bleeding heart who will still help his enemies up if they can’t stand, but Zuko jerks away.
“Let me help you,” Aang says, voice dipping in frustration.
Zuko’s shaking his head, his eyes wild and his hands half-raised in an offensive stance despite clearly not being able to firebend right at that moment, can’t show any weakness because the Avatar wants to take hurt him -
“No he doesn't, you idiot,” Sokka snaps, “and for Spirits sake, stop calling him the Avatar like he’s just an object- his name is Aang.”
The clearing falls silent. Every eye in the clearing looks at Sokka, who comes to the abrupt realisation that Zuko had not actually spoken aloud that time.
Zuko looks defiant and angry at once, and that doesn't make sense because Sokka knows prince jerkbender's just as afraid and bewildered as Sokka is even if his face isn't revealing it --until Sokka realises that he’s actually feeling the fear reverberating in waves, rather than reading it in his body language.
“I believe we have an issue,” Yue says delicately.
“What,” Sokka says eloquently, with much less grace than Yue manages in her little finger, “the actual fuck.”
Chapter 3: Spirit touched
Notes:
For the keen-eyed among you readers, yes the chapter count went up because we have finalised the fic XD just sit back and watch the fireworks (though it would be really nice to receive a kudo or a comment too hehe)
"In argument- If one is fire, the other must be like water," - Umar al-Khattab
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 10:52
chapter 03 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
“I didn't think you’d stoop that low, but then I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less from a water tribe savage.”
On the heels of the hurt at the comment on his apparently ugly scar, Zuko has a moment of intense satisfaction at the utter fury in the Water Tribe peasant’s blue eyes before he’s roughly grabbed and hauled up from his knees.
The moon’s high in the sky and they’re at the waterbender’s most sacred stronghold, two conditions that are very unideal to a firebender, but Zuko’s no stranger to facing odds that are stacked against him. He’s the master of surviving the impossible.
So Zuko tries very very hard to look back with defiance even as the Water Tribe peasant -Sokka, was it?- rages in his face. He’s seen the other in fight mode before, and while he’s proven himself to be agile and quick- witted, Zuko’s confident he can take him on any day. He’s just a peasant from some backwater tribe- he’s got nothing on Zuko. Right?
But right at that moment, it’s very hard to mask his fear.
It’s a persistent hammer at the back of his throat, because the truth is that physically, Zuko is severely weakened. He’s dizzy from hunger, having not eaten in days. His inner fire has been struggling to keep up with keeping him warm through a blizzard. He’s nauseous from exhaustion, and chilled to the bone from his earlier dalliance with the turtle seals.
And most of all, he can’t ignore the faint, nagging sensation that something is fundamentally wrong .
Zuko hates the vagueness of his instincts, but there’s been a subtle feeling that something is amiss ever since he opened his eyes to find the Avatar’s face looming over his, and it’s only intensified over the past few moments.
Until Sokka’s face is close to his, his grip a vice on the front of Zuko’s shirt. “Get your filthy hands off me,” Zuko hisses, tense not from the hostility of the action itself, but because something strange is happening every moment the water tribe peasant’s touching him.
There is nothing but animosity in those blue eyes or in his snarl, yet Zuko’s senses respond weirdly. It’s like whatever buzzing that’s been filling his mind is clearing slightly, and something is tying hitherto aching muscle and sinew together. The other’s proximity is almost -calming, instead of unnerving as it should have been, and that disturbs Zuko, because this is a confrontation , right? So why is his body reacting like it’s… not?
The Avatar calls his aggressive friend off. He’s saying something about help, but his hands are raised. Zuko feels a wave of dizziness overcome him but he can’t afford to show weakness right now so he prepares to fight, because the Avatar’s going to hurt him -
“No he isn’t, you idiot,” Sokka snaps, “and for Spirits sake, stop calling him the Avatar like he’s just an object- his name is Aang,” and Zuko realizes two things in the next two seconds.
One, the Avatar’s name is Aang, as Sokka keeps trying to tell him. Somehow Zuko can’t help but feel like he should have known this before, but maybe he’s been subconsciously trying to ignore it. To put a name to something is to make it more human, after all.
Two, speaking of subconscious.... somehow or the other, this water tribe peasant is reading his mind.
“I believe we have an issue,” says the silver haired young woman with them. There’s something familiar in the dignified way she holds herself up, something that brands her as noble blood. Her grace reminds Zuko so much of Mai that it’s almost painful. So it’s easy to surmise this must be the Northern Water Tribe’s Princess Yue.
“What,” Sokka echoes Zuko’s own bewilderment, which manifests as: “the actual fuck.”
“...” Zuko eyes him suspiciously through his weariness. He’s no stranger to cursing, having been in the company of sailors for three years, but he’s not sure he’s ever heard the other boy swear.
“I know plenty of swear words, thank you very much,” Sokka huffs, and Zuko spares a moment to go from suspicious to mystified at his priorities. It’s not like it’s some dumb competition.
“Don’t call me dumb!” Sokka snaps. “I’m not the one who’s stupid enough to antagonize an enemy when I can’t even stand, let alone firebend!”
Agitation comes choking back - how does he know?! - but Zuko swallows it down. He staggers to his feet just to prove he can . It’s shaky, it’s a struggle, and now Zuko’s head is pounding ten times worse, but he makes it.
Sokka looks at him exasperatedly, because he’s now confirmed his theory that Zuko’s not only very much an idiot but a stubborn, suicidal one-
“I’m not! Stop insulting me!” Zuko snarls, ready to throttle him, but the silver-haired woman steps between them.
“I ask for both your patience, please,” she says, her eyes the same steel of Azula’s when she isn’t asking. “You have been spirit-touched, and we do not know the full extent of the impact just yet.”
“Spirit-touched? Yue, what does that even mean?” the water tribe boy asks, rather than demands. At least Zuko’s theory on who she is proves correct.
The Avatar and the princess exchange a glance. “We suspect,” the North Water tribe princess says delicately, “that you two are able to access each other’s thoughts because you’ve… your souls have been accidentally bound together. “
“As Zhao meant to do to Aang,” she adds, when both of them look at her blankly for just a little too long.
“No fucking way,” Sokka says, right as Zuko curses. “I’m soulbonded? To him?! That’s just spirit mumbo-jumbo!!!”
The water tribe boy’s voice is pitching with panic and even disgust, which is entirely mutual and Zuko knows all this, because he can hear his thoughts clear as the rays of Agni’s sun on a summer day.
- this is impossible and gross- no fucking way not shouty prince jerkbender-
“You really need to get more creative with your insults,” Zuko mutters, because what else can he say?
“Listen, prince jerkbender-”
“Sokka,” the Princess placates.
The Avatar glances between Zuko and Sokka in a manner that’s far more morose, Zuko thinks, compared to his usual countenance. “Can you two see it?”
“See what?” Zuko demands.
“That?” The Avatar is pointing at seemingly nothing, and Sokka’s already scoffing.
“Clearly we do! See nothing, I mean,” Sokka says, and Zuko has to stifle the utterly beguiling urge to snort.
It’s true the space where the Avatar is pointing is visibly empty, but Zuko’s spent the last three years of his life running straight in the direction of the first magical shit he sees, so he knows better. He can feel the thrum of energy in the air. He’d assumed it was adrenaline earlier, but...
“There’s something gold and blue in colour, like… a thread?” the Avatar explains, tentative. “It’s winding around both of your wrists to each other.”
Zuko reaches out a finger experimentally. There’s a moment when his hands meet nothing, then there's a light sensation that turns into a buzz and both him and Sokka jump back from the electric tingle.
Zuko’s knees hit the ice floor again and that- that’s it , he’s unlikely to be able to get up again. Which is fine , Zuko can fight from his place on the ground, he’s done far more in less ideal situations before.
(Three against one, when the moon is highest and Zuko’s the weakest he’s ever been, save for after… those first few days on the ship, after the burning. His odds are not good.)
The Water Tribe boy’s looking triumphantly at Zuko, the I-told-you-so clear in his blue eyes, but there’s something like puzzlement behind it.
“You seem to be badly injured,” Princess Yue observes.
“We should find Katara,” the Avatar suggests. “She’ll be able to help.” When Zuko turns his head, he finds the gray eyes looking earnestly at him with something like concern. But that can’t be right, that’s got to be some ploy to get under Zuko’s guard-
“The only one malevolent enough to do something like that is you,” Sokka grumbles. “Aang will care about anyone, even shouty firebender jerk princes who chased him around the world for months for no reason-”
“I didn’t do it for no reason,” Zuko snaps, just as the princess makes a noise of surprise. “I needed to restore-”
“-your honour,” Sokka mimics in a sing-song voice, “Yeah yeah, we know .”
Maybe it’s because the last time he’s felt pain and exhaustion worse than this was when he’d still had bandages over one eye and he’d been trying to get up despite the feverishness and imbalance and keep walking anyway because he had to chase the Avatar -- but that constant burning flame of anger in Zuko flashes white-hot at that careless dismissal like it doesn’t matter, like it’s something to make fun of, like this is the only way Zuko’s ever going to be able to go home -
Water tribe blue eyes go wide then narrow in puzzlement at that and --Agni. Cursing himself for his own carelessness, Zuko schools his thoughts to safer topics. If it’s true that his thoughts are no longer safe in the privacy of his own head, then he has to be in control them-
Sokka snorts. “Yeah, guess what, it’s entirely mutual.”
Zuko glares and thinks SHUT UP as viciously as he can. Just for the sake of it. It’s weirdly not as satisfying as it should be when Sokka returns a glare right back, but he’s relieved the water tribe boy doesn’t pursue it.
Zuko’s left side may be all sorts of damaged, but he still somewhat senses it when the Avatar takes a step forward. He twists his head to keep him in view, because there was no way in Agni’s name that he’d allow anyone taking advantage from that side.
The world twists with him, and Zuko realises dimly that his inner flame is flickering and he’s probably going to die here in this place surrounded by enemies, but he’s never giving up without a fight-
“Zuko,” the Avatar starts, “I’m not going to hurt you. I -”
BOOM.
Zuko’s already moving, calling fire to his fingertips as ice structures implode and fall in rain-like showers all around them. Nausea rises, but fire doesn’t answer, even as he continues to call upon it, as it refused to back when he was a child.
It’s too cold, Zuko’s too tired, his body shivers from cold and injury and his inner flame is sputtering-
Never give up without a fight-
And just like when he was a child, in times when flame rejects him, Zuko resorts to the surer, comforting grasp of a blade. He lunges to grab a spear of ice even as black spots begin filling up his vision. But a watery whip wraps around both his wrists before he gets a proper grasp, and-
“KATARA WAIT-”
Zuko lets out a muffled gasp as his inner flame gives up, and oblivion beckons.
Notes:
You know, enemies-to-lovers tags are so funny, like you KNOW what's going to happen, even as each character goes paragraphs upon paragraphs of detesting the each other you're just sitting there munching popcorn like HAHA JOKES ON YOU, SWEETIE, WE KNOW THAT "OH" MOMENT IS GONNA HAPPEN, WE'RE JUST HERE FOR THE FIREWORKS XD
So curious to see what you guys think - who in this verse would be more willing to listen? Sokka and Zuko can hear each other and see their memories- how will that affect their understanding of eachother? What are the repercussions of such a spirit-enforced bond to a relationship?
This fic is complete, we're just keeping the updates weekly so we can sparse out the action and development. Please leave a kudo or comment! we love interaction <3
Chapter 4: Compassion in your eyes
Notes:
I (Steel) strongly suggest you listen to the audio as well because Fumbles' rendition of Sokka's voice in this chapter is absolutely on point and will make you snicker :3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 07:37
chapter 04 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
“So, let me get this straight,” Katara says slowly. “General Zhao was trying to bind Aang’s soul to his, so he could harness the Avatar’s power.”
“Yup,” Aang nods in affirmation.
“And my brother the idiot-”
“-I think hero is the more accurate term here-”
“-the heroic but still idiotic idiot,” Katara repeats, over Sokka’s interjection, “interrupted a potentially dangerous ritual to pull Aang back-”
“It was that or let Zhao get his way with Aang!”
“At the same time as Zuko tried to pull Zhao back,” Katara carries on, ignoring him.
“Yup,” Aang nods again.
“So now the situation is Sokka and Zuko are soul-bonded instead?”
“Trust me, it’s as unpleasant as it sounds,” Sokka grumbles.
Katara stares at both Sokka and Aang like they’ve grown an extra head while she was off fending off invaders at the Northern wall. “Not that I don’t believe you,” the waterbender says diplomatically, “but how can you be sure?”
“You mean, other than the fact that I can read prince jerkbender’s thoughts as clear as an orca-wolf’s cry on a full moon?” Sokka asks gloomily, jerking his head towards where Zuko’s lying unconscious in the snow.
Katara raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like more than fitting torture for him.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Sokka protests.
The fire prince had finally passed out after Katara exploded the wall behind him and restrained his moves using super cool water whips, and even then he had tried to struggle and fight back. Honestly, does he know when it’s a lost cause? If Sokka wasn’t simultaneously freaked out and annoyed, he would have been begrudgingly impressed at how long Zuko had managed to stay awake.
“So what are we going to do with him?” Katara asks, brows furrowed, right as Yue comes upon them, her father at her back.
“You must leave,” Yue tells them all urgently. “Our forces have the enemy ships under control, but we do not know how long that will last.”
“But Yue, we can’t just leave your people to fight-”
“I strongly suspect they will not cease their siege upon our walls for as long as they know the Avatar is here,” Chief Arnook tells them. “This is where we must part ways. I wish you and your companions well, Avatar Aang.” The next words echo with gravity. “May we win the long war.”
Sokka stills, goosebumps forming upon his skin at the ancient warcry apparently common to both Water tribes.
Aang bows towards both the Chief and his daughter solemnly. “May we win the long war,” he repeats back, looking at that moment like all his 112 years.
“Sokka…” Yue says. Sokka turns towards her, feeling something growing heavy in his chest. He’s memorising her beautiful blue eyes, the lovely upward tilt of her lips.
This is it, then.
Sokka’s never considered himself particularly emotional, but the thing about being at war is, no one ever knows when a parting would be the last one.
“I don’t suppose you’re coming with us,” Sokka asks jokingly. He senses the gap that’s opening between them, the chasm wide and deep enough that even Appa can’t fly them over.
Yue shakes her head, her beautiful white tresses following the motion. “My place is here with my tribe, and there is much to do. I can no more leave them than you can forgo your own quest to help Aang.”
“Well,” Sokka tries, “Chief Yue does have a nice ring to it.” It comes out flatter than he means it to.
“I’m sorry, Sokka,” Her voice is gentle. “My place is here with my family and my tribe.”
Just as Sokka’s duty lies with his own.
For one moment Sokka allows himself to regret. He sees his future and Yue’s together: one with laughing ocean-eyed children in little igloos, intricate betrothal necklace around a delicate neck, hunting trips and secret smiles beneath the northern lights. It’s a future and a vision Sokka can see so clearly, but...
It’s a future that’s not for him and Yue to know. Not right now, and perhaps not ever.
Sokka wipes it away with fingers of ash.
“Goodbye, Yue,” he whispers. Yue nods at him, her lips wobbling a little, but her gaze is clear. They already have a distant look to them, like Yue is looking past him to the future where their duties lie.
"Let’s go,” Sokka urges, turning away. There’s some scuffling from behind him, and he turns to see Aang dragging Zuko’s form onto Appa who is shifting restlessly. “Aang! What are you doing?!”
Ang’s brows furrow. “We can’t just leave him here in the snow,”the kid says. “He’s badly injured and he can’t bend- he’ll die.”
Aang’s gray eyes look up at Sokka determinedly, and Sokka sees the unspoken there.
Injured and unconscious or not, Zuko’s also the prince of the enemy nation raining fire and destruction upon them, and Sokka imagines the Northern Water Tribe wouldn’t be particularly charitable in their treatment of him. War necessitates certain unsavoury acts, after all.
Still, Sokka slaps his forehead. “Well we can’t take him with us! He’s the enemy !” He looks to Katara for help.
Katara looks like she wants to agree with him, but ultimately, she shakes her head. “The first healer code is to do no harm ,” she says slowly. “I’m a warrior, but I’m a healer too. I won’t turn my back on injured people who need me. Even if they’re Zuko.”
Now, Sokka’s not cruel by principle, but he’s always, always been the pragmatic plan guy, and it makes strategic sense to leave Zuko in a place where he would likely be imprisoned and unable to bother them ever again with his loud declarations of honour and capturing the Avatar and restoring his honour.
Sokka tries a different tactic. “He wants to capture Aang and take him back to his evil Firelord Father, remember?” he exclaims, appealing to Katara’s protectiveness of Aang. “We might as well be handing Aang over in a gift box!”
Something in Katara’s eyes hardens, and she looks like she’s on the cusp of changing her mind, but Aang interjects. “Zuko saved me from Zhao at Pohuai stronghold-”
“-for his own motives,” Sokka emphasises, at the same time as Katara’s, “What?”
“-and if it weren’t for him, I’d never have been able to get the medicine from the frogs to save you guys when you were sick,” Aang finishes. “The monks taught me that all human life is sacred. Please can we at least get him out of here and heal him?”
His gray eyes wide and pleading towards Katara, the little sneak. Katara takes a moment longer, then exhales. “Fine. I’ll heal him just enough so we know he won’t die, then we leave him the moment we find land.”
Sokka takes a moment to curse all the spirits and Tui and La in particular that he’s been stuck with two of the world’s biggest bleeding hearts as a sister and adopted-little brother, and then shakes it off just like everything else he’s been shaking off since Aang landed in his world.
“Just for the record, I’m strongly, strongly against this,” Sokka mutters.
But he remembers the fury in Zuko’s startlingly golden eyes as he’d told Sokka to shut up, even while on his knees and unable to move, and that curious near-desperation in his mental voice when Sokka had heard him think something about going home , and he gives in.
"Recorded," Katara replies, straight-faced. Sokka rolls his eyes.
“C’mon,” he mutters at his group of so-compassionate-it’s-going-to-kill-them sorta-family and one mortal enemy, “Let’s go.”
Notes:
Thank you for reading! comments always appreciated ^^ it's two chapter udpates this week, can we be plaintive and ask for two comments? hahaha ><
Chapter 5: The Blindsided
Notes:
Toph: *looks at chapter title*
Toph: *looks at Author's notes*
Toph: *looks at me eerily off centre*
Me: sweat dropsSo we realised how short Chapter 4 was, even though we felt that it was a good break for the chapter, and decided to give you a double update! :3
Would love to hear your thoughts! comments feed a writer and podficcer please feed us ><
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 13:22
chapter 05 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Zuko’s always been a light sleeper. It’s a necessity of survival in the palace, the older and more menacing Azula got, and even more so on the Wani. It’s the only reason he was able to sense the pirates trying to blow up his ship and escape before he became just another lost soul at sea.
Still, he’s never felt a heaviness quite like this particular one that saturates his bones and body as he pulls away from the drowsiness.
The ground seems to be swaying, is the first observation Zuko makes. Not like the light rocking of the ship at sea. This one feels more unhinged, like free floating in air.
The second thing he realises is that he’s not on the ground or even the sea at all, but in air.
Uh-oh, he’s waking up-
Zuko tries to clutch at his head, and that’s when he realises something’s keeping his hands bound together. When he opens his eyes, two sets of ocean blue eyes are looking back at his own. His immediate instinct is to kick out with his legs--
“Whoa!! Stop that! We’re thousands of feet above ground, none of that here if you don’t want to fall off!”
A heavy grip holds his calf down and Zuko gasps at the unbidden memory it brings back and he lashes out wildly. The hand immediately lets go of him .
- Okay Sokka, lets not touch twitchy jerkbender-
Ignoring the stab of fear, Zuko’s gaze immediately zero in on the culprit whose voice was in his head --
“Yeeah, it’s not a pleasant experience for me either,” the water tribe peasant drawls, mouth tugging downwards.
Zuko glares. “ Stop reading my mind!” he barks. His phoenix plume swings around his shoulder even as he struggles to righten himself up.
He feels rather than sees the other boy’s mounting frustration. “I can’t actually help it, buddy,” the watertribe boy retorts. “It was much nicer and quieter when you were passed out. As if your shouting wasn’t bad enough for my eardrums, now I get to listen to you rage in my head, too-”
“Stop antagonising him, Sokka,” the waterbender chastises. Zuko’s eyes find her and remembers the cold whip of water around his wrists before everything went dark-
“What did you do to me,” he spits out. Something’s crawling up his spine because Agni, the thought of their hands touching his body and manhandling him while he was unaware--
“Just like you did to Aang while he was in the Avatar state?” Sokka asks pointedly. Zuko looks away, something hot like shame burning in his gut.
“The Avatar’s hardly vulnerable or powerless in the Avatar state,” he defends. “Zhao would have done worse.”
Sokka rolls his eyes and matches Zuko’s glare. “And he’s your comparison of good conduct, is that it? In that case, the bar’s really really low. That line of thinking is going to get you nowhere here,” he tells Zuko.
There’s a beat of a moment, then Zuko lets out a breath. “You’re right,” he concedes, to the clear surprise of the water tribe boy. “That was not one of my more… honorable moments. I apologise.”
“...okay,” comes the hesitant reply, laden with suspicion.
“What are you planning to do with me?” Zuko asks, trying to buy time. His mind’s already actively thinking of ways to get out, and his hands are busy fiddling with the rope on his back. It’s the same good quality material he recognises that kept the Avatar bound, but at the end of the day it’s still rope and under normal circumstances he can burn through them easily. At that very moment, though, it’s dubious whether Zuko can generate enough energy to firebend something so delicate.
“We won't hurt you if you won’t hurt us,” the waterbender says in a haughty tone, her voice laden with threat. “Aang didn't want to leave you to die in the North Pole, so he asked me to heal you.”
Zuko glances towards the helm of the bison they’re apparently on, where the Avatar gives him a cheery little wave.
“Why would he do that?” he asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. “If you’re trying to use me as a hostage, it won’t work. Fire Lord Ozai wouldn’t pay you anything or grant you any graces for my safety.”
He’s trying to say it evenly, but his voice hitches. The water tribe peasant snorts. “Yeah, no,” Sokka says disbelievingly, “you’re his child and the prince of fire Nation, I’m sure we could get something out of it-” Zuko opens his mouth to correct the misconception, but he’s talked right over - “But sure, whatever, that’s not the game plan here.”
“Then what is? Why are you helping me?” Zuko asks frustratedly. “Why do you care? I have done nothing but been unkind to you.”
Sokka shrugs. “The air Nomads believed in the sanctity of life yada-yada, so Aang just didn’t want you to die. And it might surprise you, jerkbender, but Aang’s just a twelve-year-old kid who wants to make friends with everything that breathes.”
Zuko remembers lying on a bed of forest leaves, looking up at earnest gray eyes, and a hopeful voice asking, “ If we had known each other back then, do you think we could have been friends, too?
And he had answered with a fire blast at the Avatar’s face.
A little bit of guilt kindles in his stomach at the memory. Just like that moment of realising that the Avatar had a name- it made him less of an omniscient entity, and more of a… human. A kid.
Because he doesn’t know how to process that, Zuko decides he’s just not going to.
“So, are you always lying to yourself, or is it a Fire Nation thing?” Sokka asks loudly. Zuko starts and resorts to his default scowl, even as his heart hammers away in his chest. It’s horribly intrusive, being this vulnerable to someone else. The kind of trust and access he’d not have granted to anyone, an enemy no less, and Zuko hates it-
Sokka’s shoulders sag. “You know what? I’m one hundred percent with you on that. This sucks .”
The waterbender - Katara , Zuko’s mind supplies unbidden, probably from whatever spiritual magic is connecting him to Sokka- is watching them both with eyes that were not unkind. “If you promise not to hurt us, especially Aang, we’ll let you out of the ropes, and I’ll heal your injuries,” she tells him.
Zuko’s brow wrinkles in confusion, “And then what?” he asks. “You do realise after you’ve dropped me off, I’m going to right back to chasing you, right?”
“That’s what I said,” Sokka agrees, as Aang pipes up. “We’ll get there when we get there!” he chirps. “Maybe you’d have changed your mind!”
The kid sounds so… optimistic and young, just like Zuko remembered himself to be once. So full of hope.
Zuko stares at the earnest face and wonders. Wonder whether it was really that simple.
“I meant what I said back in the forest, you know,” the Avatar adds. “I do wish we could have been friends.”
“Unlikely," Zuko replies honestly, almost apologetically because the young kid in front of him deserves that, at least. “I’m sorry, but I must regain my honour, and to do that I must capture the Avatar. You are the Avatar. That- It’s not- it’s not personal.”
“Not personal, he says,” Sokka scoffs, but there’s not as much scorn as Zuko would have expected from an enemy. Zhao had given him much more vitriol, and they were supposed to be on the same side. “Whatever. Can we at least agree on a truce until we land on the ground?”
Zuko considers. It’s not much of a decision, honestly. Not while he’s a thousand feet above ground surrounded by three people he’s chased and antagonised. “Fine. I promise, on my honour.”
The waterbender makes a motion with her hands, but Sokka stops her. “Wait, Katara,” Sokka cautions. Zuko quietly files the confirmation of her name. Wary gold meets unflinching blue. “How can we be sure you’re not lying? All it takes is a spark from you and we’d be fried meat.”
“You can literally hear my thoughts,” Zuko points out as he scowls. Not for much longer, if Zuko has his way. “And from past evidence, I have proven myself to keep to my word. I kept my promise about not burning down your village back then, even though the Avat-- Aang didn’t keep his,” he says, jerking his head to where the airbender is sitting.
Sokka gets that look again. “Oh, look at you, getting an award for basic human decency,” Katara mutters, but she makes one motion and the ropes fall apart from the tiny slivers of ice that’s been keeping them knotted together.
Zuko rubs at his wrists, trying to return some feeling to them. Sokka begins to talk. “Okay, so step one: establish a very uneasy, inadvisable truce with prince jerkbender of the jerkbending nation. Check.” Zuko rolls his eyes. “Step two, Katara will heal him until he’s not in danger of dropping dead and we can drop him off. Step three-”
Katara reaches towards him.
Things happen in quick succession.
One: Katara lets out a cry of pain when Zuko’s hands clamp down upon her slim wrists hard enough to break it.
Two: Sokka’s boomerang is sharp pressure at Zuko’s throat, pressing hard enough to form a thin cut.
Three: Aang jumps from the helm of the bison to land on gliding feet right where the three of them are clustered.
Zuko wonders vaguely if he should be alarmed that no one is steering the bison.
“Everyone, calm down,” Aang cautions.
“Get your hands off my sister,” Sokka growls at Zuko.
“I can take care of myself,” Katara snaps even though her eyes are wide with fear, wrenching her hand out of Zuko’s grip.
Her wrist meets no resistance. Because for his part, Zuko’s still tense, feeling somewhat unmoored. Sokka takes a step back, but his boomerang remains at the ready, its sharp edge near Zuko’s neck.
“Where’s that honour you spoke off?” Sokka demands. “You literally just promised not to hurt anyone!”
Zuko’s temper flares, but he takes a deep breath to calm down, the way Uncle taught him. The water tribe peasa- Sokka, he corrects in his mind, was right to be upset, because it did look like Zuko had broken a promise he’d just made.
“I- forgive me.” Zuko had reacted without thinking, because the waterbender had been reaching in towards the left side of his face - “I was startled. It will not happen again.”
Things are momentarily quiet.
Zuko’s heart beats loudly in his chest. He’s tried to issue the apology in the stiffly formal manner that the Fire Nation deemed proper apologies be made, but- he’s suddenly not sure if the water tribe would see it the same way. Would they understand the honesty that the grave manner of his apology denotes, or would they see it as insincere? But he’s done his best-
The water tribe boy is gazing directly at Zuko with an appraising look in his eyes. His gaze flickers over Zuko’s scar and Zuko can’t help it- he flushes, wondering just how much of his thoughts the other boy has heard.
If they knew his blind spots-
“I didn’t,” Sokka says aloud, then stops.
“Didn’t what?” Zuko snarls, to cover his trepidation. Anger was his only reliable shield against fear. He’s discovered that when met with fiery resistance, people often didn’t probe further.
Not Sokka, though.
Zuko jumps when Sokka’s next words come in through Zuko’s mind. They haven’t tried to formally communicate through this stupid bond yet, but clearly it’s possible. I didn’t realise…
Zuko discovers mental snarling is a thing , and takes to it with prodigious ease. That I’m blind in one eye ? What, the massive scarring and the way it doesn’t open fully wasn’t enough of a clue?
Sokka looks like he wanted to shout, but to Zuko’s amazement, the Water Tribe boy takes a deep breath instead. No it wasn’t, no. You always seemed so formidable and scary, it’s… I didn’t realise you had things to make up for.
That should have been flattering, but it isn’t. Zuko turns his face away, keeping his good eye trained on all the people across him.
“Right, okay.” Sokka tucks his boomerang away with a forced casualness. Zuko watches in increasing confusion as he steps around the group, so that the other two are now positioned closer to Zuko’s right. “So we got off the wrong foot. Katara, mmmmmayyyyybe tell him when you’re coming near him. Jerkbender’s clearly twitchy.”
He’s- not going to say anything, Zuko realises. He’s not going to tell them.
He’s finding it much easier to breathe all of a sudden.
Thank you, he thinks carefully towards the other boy, in case he can be heard.
Just keep to your promise, comes the reply. Don’t hurt my sister. Don’t hurt Aang. Keep your jerkbending to yourself until we’re back on ground.
Zuko closes his eyes. He’s never been an oath breaker so that isn’t something that had been in question. No matter how easy it would be to take advantage of the situation once he’s healed, his supposed mortal enemies have afforded Zuko more basic respect and decency than Zhao had, and the general is supposed to be of his own nation and under his command.
The least Zuko can do for such humane treatment is return them the same respect. No matter how tempting it is, Zuko would not dishonour their decency.
On my honour, I promised.
Sokka smiles at him right before catching himself. Zuko smiles back.
Notes:
Things are about to ramp up with unexpected appearances...
Chapter 6: Liminal space
Notes:
A short, more fun chapter this week... and next week is when the real conflict begins........
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 12:31
chapter 06 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
Maybe it’s a side effect of running straight into the heart of the first magical shit he’s seen for the past three years. Maybe it’s an everlasting sort of punishment for speaking out of turn against his father those years ago, but Zuko can’t help but feel some parts of his life are a farce sometimes.
Case in point: Zuko’s currently riding with the Avatar and his two companions- the very same people he’s spent almost the entirety of winter chasing- on the last air bison known to mankind. It’s kind of, sort of, of his own free will. Everyone is alive. And as they fly further away from the North Pole to seek the nearest land, the air between them goes from awkward and tense, like one of Father’s formal functions, to almost... civil.
***
“What do you know about soulbonds, Aang?” Katara asks. “Is it something to worry about?”
Aang shrugs. “They weren’t very common, even all those years ago,” he says. Zuko doesn’t know whether to find it funny or disturbing that the Avatar says ‘years ago’ like it’s 10 years and not a century. Like there’s some part of Aang that’s still living in the past, ignoring how the world has moved on without him.
...Actually, it’s not funny. It’s disturbing.
Zuko promptly decides that brains shouldn’t be allowed to have an opinion, because if he thinks about it too hard, his head and heart begins to hurt.
Sokka seems to be looking at Zuko meaningfully, but Zuko does his valiant best to avoid the other boy’s eyes. There’s only so many exhausting thoughts he can handle in one day.
“Soul-bonded are supposed to be connected by something physical, but it’s usually only visible to the soul-bonded and to people of a spiritual nature, like the Avatar.” Blissfully oblivious to the mental turmoil that’s haunting Zuko, Aang points to the space between them. “Can you see the thread connecting Sokka and Zuko’s wrists?”
Zuko hadn’t been able to earlier, back at the Oasis. But now, temporarily free from the danger of dying from exhaustion, hypothermia and being surrounded by his enemies, if he focuses enough he could just about make out the line of gold-blue circling from his wrists to Sokka’s.
It doesn’t seem to be the same for Katara, whose eyes widen in surprise. “Where?” She sweeps her hand through the gap, and Zuko twitches, shuddering as a buzzing sensation sweeps along his skin. Sokka responds in exactly the same way as the line sputters and sparks, arcing all around the intrusion like a lightning ball before returning to a straight line.
‘Don’t do that!’ Zuko snaps weakly. “Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
Both him and Sokka stare balefully at the little gold-blue line between them.
“Are we going to do anything about it?” Sokka asks.
“Do what?” Zuko asks sourly. “Unless the Avatar, bridge to the Spirit World and all things spiritual, knows something we don’t, we can’t exactly cut a not-tangible thread.”
“Just amazing,” Sokka grumbles. “Of all the people I had to get bonded to, it had to be prince jerkbender.”
“The disgust is mutual,” Zuko snaps.
Couldn’t it have at least been Yue? Sokka’s resentful thoughts come through. Well, that was understandable, at least. The Water Tribe boy had looked at the Princess like she’s the literal moon and stars, and now Zuko understood a little better why. The spirits sure like to make my life a running joke, don’t they?
Zuko coughs out the laugh that threatens to bubble up, making sure it dies in his throat. Sokka gives him a startled look he can’t decipher. “That’s also mutual,” he tells the Water Tribe boy.
Sokka stares at him for a moment longer before shrugging. “Could be worse, I guess.” Sokka’s tone is conversational. “Either one of us could have been bonded to Zhao.”
Something in Zuko’s stomach turns and he shudders. Sokka’s watching him carefully, blue eyes knowing, so he makes an effort to suppress it. “Yeah,” Zuko rasps, for lack of something to say.
“Guy’s a real creep, huh,” Sokka says. It’s not a question.
Zuko hesitates for a second, then nods. “What makes you say that?” He doesn’t know what Sokka’s able to see in his memories right now, but it’s not like Sokka can’t see what’s inside of his mind anyway, if the other boy pushes hard enough.
Okay, they may not see eye-to-one-eye on life principles in general, but at least the Water Tribe boy agrees that Zhao is a creep.
Sokka frowns at the floor. “I really didn’t like the way General Mutton-Chop was looking at … some people,” he finishes lamely.
Zuko chokes at General Mutton-chop.
***
Maybe Zuko’s just cranky from lack of rest and sleep, but he’s strongly starting to suspect, as Sokka continues to rattle about something, that he often talks just because he likes to hear the sound of his own voice-
“-Hey!” Sokka points at him. “Like you have any ground to stand on, sparky sparky boom boom prince of rage!”
Zuko stares at him. “What.” As far as creative names go, that wasn’t so bad, Zuko supposes.
Katara sighs. “My brother is horrible with names and puns,” she tells the general air. Sokka squawks.
“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m the punniest namebender alive!”
Zuko can’t help the upward twitch to his lips at that, no matter how sternly he tells himself not to laugh, do not laugh, you have more discipline than this, Prince Zuko-
Sokka notices, of course - he’s literally in Zuko’s head- and gleefully begins to gloat. Sparkling blue eyes crinkle in a cheeky, surprisingly contagious smile that makes Zuko feel all weird. “See, Katara, even prince jerkbender’s laughing at my jokes!” He crows.
“It’s so bad it’s hilarious,” Zuko deadpans, trying to maintain his irritated facade.
It’s Katara’s turn to hastily swallow her chuckle.
***
The bison’s name, Zuko has since learnt after casual prodding, is Appa.
“How much does Appa weigh?” Zuko asks curiously.
“Ten tonnes,” Aang replies with bright eyes, apparently happy that someone is interested. He’s switched places with Katara to steer.
Zuko rapidly converts the measurement to Fire Nation units in his head and blinks. “Ten tonnes… how does he even get into the air to fly?”
“Oh, hm.” Aang frowns. Unlike the Water tribe siblings, Aang seems to have no reservations in giving Zuko the full force of his warmth and friendship. “When Appa flies, he’s actually airbending like I do.”
So Aang’s not the last airbender, just the last human one. Zuko feels something sour climb up his throat and forces it down.
He’s always wondered how the sky bison is capable of flight. None of the old scrolls had been able to tell him, because they were more focused on depicting sky bisons as organic war machines.
Looking at the way Appa groans and swishes his tail underneath them like a giant oversized turtle-cat, Zuko can’t think of much else that looked less like a war machine at that very moment.
“What does he eat? Do you feed him something specific?” Zuko chooses to ask instead, because something is hurting in his chest and at heart he’s still the five-year old who loved the soft fuzzy fur of turtleducks and couldn’t bear to see them hurt.
“Appa eats plants, and hay,” Aang chatters away. “He’ll eat eggs too, and he loves it when he gets honey as a treat.”
Zuko files that information away carefully. He’s never seen an air bison this up close - every time before has always been in a flash of self-induced fire and desperation. Maybe this temporary truce would have some unforeseen advantages. Maybe it’s trivial, but Zuko kind of hopes he’ll be able to pet Appa a bit before they part ways.
(What? Bisons are cute. Who was Zuko to resist the power of a furry fuzzy animal?)
Sokka snickers loudly at him for some time after that, and doesn't shut up no matter how fiercely Zuko tries to glare at him.
Zuko’s surprised, maybe a bit alarmed, to realise he doesn’t mind as much as he thinks he should.
“I’ve never seen an air bison before,” Zuko admits aloud, to distract from that line of thought. “They’re supposed to be extinct.”
“Yeah, Appa’s probably the last of his kind,” Aang says, smiling a little wanly.
And whose fault is that?
There's a moment in which no one breathes, or speaks. Sokka opens his mouth. Closes it again. Zuko appreciates it, because he doesn’t need a dumb soul-bound to be able to guess at what Sokka was going to say, what all of them are thinking anyway.
Lucky the Fire Nation aren’t as thorough in their jobs as they think they are, escapes through their mental link. Zuko bites down on his tongue so hard it draws blood.
He remembers the little bison skulls at the Air Nomad temple. Remembers accidentally stepping on one, and its resulting crack echoing through the temple.
It hadn’t mattered much back then, because no one had seen a bison alive for more than a century. All Zuko had were sketches.
The horror feels more tangible now that Zuko’s sitting on a real life, fully grown bison.
Zuko feels like he’s about to throw up.
Aang seems to sense the mood in the air shifting, and for whatever reason that doesn't make sense to Zuko and must not make sense to Agni either, decides to steer Zuko away from it.
“Do you want me to show you Appa’s favourite spots to be rubbed?”
Zuko says yes, of course.
***
Zuko’s miscalculated to a massive degree.
Well, he’s never been the best at planning ahead anyway. His plans have always been more along the lines of: act on this impulse, improvise as he goes, and hope he doesn’t die a fiery, painful death along the way.
But travelling with the Avatar and his companions, even for this short duration, was a miscalculation of epic proportions.
Because now Zuko has been made to think and see more, and he’s not sure he likes what he’s seeing.
Everyone who’s ever told Zuko anything about the Air Nomads had said that they were savages who dumped their own children to be raised by strangers. That they were vicious barbarians without law.
That the Air Nomads had an army to spread their lawlessness unto the world.
The thing is, remembering little air bison skulls are bringing back other memories of the Air Temple to the fore. Memories Zuko had subconsciously shoved back and not looked too closely at, for fear of what he’d uncover.
Memories of little crumbling skeletons lining the temple walls, as if they’d been pushed into corners before they’d died.
Memories of tiny, burned skeletons sheltered behind bigger ones.
No memories or evidence of weapons, or armory, of any kind.
Zuko had left the temple telling himself that their war weapons must have been looted, given that it’s been a hundred years. He’d left the temple with Uncle feeling uncertain and scared and angry , because it didn’t make sense , but he’d told himself it didn’t matter.
It hadn’t mattered much back then, because what had mattered was Zuko had lost his honour and needed to regain it by finding the Avatar.
Watching Aang ( who is not the Avatar right then, just the last airbender ) utter sincerity in showing him where best to pat Appa’s ( the last air bison ) sensitive spots, it’s beginning to matter. A lot.
Something in Zuko begins to crumble, as all the little inaccuracies he’s spotted in the old texts grow evermore insistent. .
They said the Air Nomads had an army.
He forces himself to keep pushing the intrusive thoughts back, because no matter what, Zuko needs to restore his honour and return home.
***
Zuko’s… not sure he can keep pushing them back now.
***
(He’s not sure he should.)
Notes:
the information on what Appa eats is canon :3
Chapter 7: Dance of the dead
Notes:
A note regarding the way this soulbond-mindreading works as we've had some brilliant questions from readers: you know how at any one time, you have several million thoughts running through your mind (I have at least three thoughts running in completely diff directions i.e. what to eat today, my next deliverable, i need to reply to person A later) but one takes centre stage to be dealt with right at that moment? now imagine having someone else's mental space -just like that- cluttering your own thoughts. Imagine the cacophony. Certain thoughts are going to get picked up while others fall by the wayside. This is what's happening to Sokka and Zuko, why they pick up specific lines of thought driven by strong emotions/urgency, rather than hear everything at once in each other's head. They can't even sort out their own!
Also, we believe that at this point in the season/series Sokka has a clearer direction/focus/head than Zuko, who is starting to question his actions and thought patterns, hence it's easier for him to pick up things from Zuko than the reverse. Hope that makes sense!A bit nervous about this chapter :< Zuko starts realising Things about the propaganda he's grown with...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 16:42
chapter 07 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Sokka doesn’t really know what to make of Zuko. Stripped back of all his shouting about honor and flashy flames, prince jerkbender of Jerkbending Nation is just… another teenager. A particularly cranky, snarly pyromaniac of a teenager who plays with sharp things in his spare time and can kick Sokka’s ass with his little finger, not that Sokka’s ever going to admit to that, but still. A teenager, like Sokka.
Said prince jerkbender also apparently has a soft spot for furry animals (who would have guessed that ?), the conversation skills of a sabre tooth lion cat (that is to say, none), laughs at Sokka’s jokes as much as he tries not to, and suffers from an extreme case of guilt and self-denial. All in all, it paints a pretty confusing portrait.
It’s been at least a couple of hours based on the moon’s position in the sky, and Zuko’s not tried to maim, flame or capture any one of them yet. So Sokka’s cautiously optimistic that they’ll make it to land and drop off their new passenger without any significant fire hazards arising.
Still, he can’t resist poking the firebender every once in a while on the flight. Zuko’s way too easy to rile up. After all, Sokka’s a strategist at heart, and that means exploring how his enemy thinks and acts.
“How’d you even get in the Spirit Oasis, anyway?” Sokka wrinkles his nose at the jerkbender. “Agna Qel'a supposed to be impenetrable, and the Spirit Oasis even more so. How’d you even know the way?”
Sokka doesn’t know how anyone could manage to look defiant and defensive at once, but Zuko pulls it off brilliantly. “I got in through the underwater aqueducts.”
“...through the underwater aqueducts?”
Zuko scowls at him. Sokka notes with vague alarm that he’s getting used to the scowl. “That’s what I just said.”
“The waters are under freezing temperature at this time of the year,” Katara says. Zuko just shrugs, like a non-verbal So? Like he could just will away the murderous cold water through his trademark reckless stupidity alone. And well, he’s a firebender, so maybe he can. Sokka doesn’t care. He doesn’t. But-
“How’d you even find your way around?” Sokka racks his brains, remembering the little sketches he’s seen of Agna Qela’s underwater network. “The aqueducts are basically a massive labyrinth.” It wasn’t like Zuko could have had a map...
“I followed a dole of turtle-seals to right under the ice,” Zuko answers. “When I got into the tunnels it was simple enough to find a suitable place to heat and break through.”
Sokka stares at him. Zuko apparently notices the silence has been going on for a little too long, and finally lifts his head.
Three sets of stunned eyes look back at him, but for some reason or the other, Zuko looks at Sokka first. “Zuko,” Sokka says slowly, his eyebrows climbing, “Do you know how long turtle seals can hold their breaths?”
Zuko goes from confused to combative in a heartbeat. “Yeah, so?”
“Forty minutes, Zuko.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Forty! Spirit! Cursed! Minutes!” Sokka emphasises each word.
“It worked!”
Great spirits, Sokka hopes Zuko’s apparent lack of self preservation aren’t contagious- Aang shouldn’t pick up on that kind of influence. He adds “definitely masochistic and possibly subconsciously suicidal” into the list of things he’s tallying about Zuko.
“Honestly, I have no idea how you’ve managed to survive this long,” Sokka shook his head. “How in Tui and La’s name are you still alive?”
He’s startled by the harsh chuckle Zuko lets out. It’s a grim sound, devoid of true amusement. “Honestly, sometimes I don’t know either.”
The expression on Zuko’s face is a weird one, as if he’s unused to smiling and trying to remember how.
Sokka abruptly realises that he’s seen prince jerkbender’s face twisted in rage or confusion plenty of times, but never, not once, has he seen the guy smile, not even a victorious smirk.
That’s… an unsettling thought.
***
It takes two full nights for them to even be approaching land. In the entire time, Sokka keeps noticing things he doesn’t particularly want to notice about their royal, temporarily-not mortal enemy.
Zuko has strange eyes, Sokka notices idly, as you do when you’re bored out of your mind and stuck in a very surreal situation atop a supposedly extinct animal with your baby sister, the supposedly long-gone Avatar, and his mortal enemy. All his life he’s viewed Fire Nation yellow eyes as a threat, but Zuko’s were a specific shade Sokka’s certain he’s never seen before.
He only realises he’s been staring when Zuko fixes his eyes on Aang, and asks out of the blue: “Why the frogs?”
Sokka blinks at him, utterly bewildered, because that was probably the least sensible thing he’s heard all day/night and after all they had been through that day/night, that was saying something.
But Aang answers Zuko like he makes sense, which he never does: “They have medicinal properties,” Aang explains. Zuko doesn’t look like he understands what that has to do with anything yet, so Aang continues. “Sokka and Katara were sick, so I was trying to find the frogs to use as medicine to help them recover.”
“...Of course you were.” Zuko exhales. “My life is a little less ridiculous now, thank you.”
Sokka looks between the two of them, and decides this is one tidbit he can afford not knowing about.
***
Sokka’s never been particularly trusting. That is Katara, and that is also Aang: well matched to each other in that sense. So even as the atmosphere between the four of them begins to relax, Sokka’s still guarded and wary.
Thanks in large to prince jerkbender here, Sokka has grown used to the half-sleep of the threatened. Every sense’s been trained hard to drag him out of slumber to respond to anything strange. It’s a pathetic form of rest, but if it saves their lives or Aang from capture, then it’s a skill Sokaa’s more than happy to cultivate.
Now, something drags him from the deepest pit of unconsciousness and leaves him awake and tense- and he’s fairly sure it has something to do with Zuko.
Prince jerkbender is awake too, but he’s not looking at Sokka. He’s looking upwards at the sky.
When Sokka tried to probe, Zuko’s thoughts have dissipated to become the mental equivalent of !!!!
It’s… kind of endearing, and Sokka has to shut this down because that is no way to be thinking about an enemy.
“Wha-” Sokka glances up and falls to silence himself. It seems the Spirits have one last surprise for them.
The entire sky is lit up in an explosion of colour. Swirls of purple and blue and green dance its way through the dark sky in a radiance no fire can hope to imitate.
Sokka’s only seen the Northern lights once, back when his wolf-tail had been just a little floof, back before four had numbered three. Back then, Mom’s hand was a warm pressure in his hands, the other in Katara’s.
Something begins to sit heavy in Sokka’s chest, so much that it’s hard to breathe.
From the corner of his eyes, Zuko glances at him, probably hearing how Sokka’s thoughts have suddenly plummeted into dark depths. Sokka ignores him, because he’s not in the mood to entertain the prince of the nation who had taken away his mother. He reaches out for Katara instead.
His baby sister needs him.
Katara’s shaking like a newly born baby ottercat, her lip trembling. Aang’s abandoned his steering of Appa again and is hovering close, though he looks at a loss for whatever is affecting her so strongly.
“Are… you two okay?” Aang asks, seeing Sokka’s expression. The poor kid looks confused. “Is… is it something about the spirit lights?”
Sokka shakes his head, as he envelopes Katara in his arms. Her slender fingers are clutching at Mom’s necklace around her neck, a poor imitation of the touch that they’re both seeking. Together, they look up at the illuminated sky.
The last time they had seen the Northern lights, Kya had still been alive.
“Kya…?” the prince of the ashmakers asks uncertainly.
“Don’t you dare say her name,” Sokka hisses. He glares at Zuko, hating the accented way the two syllables fall from firebender lips. Hating that Zuko can hear his thoughts right then, just another invasion the Fire Nation has committed upon their tribe and upon Sokka.
Much of his charitable feelings have dissipated away like water through his fingers. Zuko is the Prince of Fire Nation, a nation of ashmakers and family destroyers and his mother’s killer and he is their enemy, and they can never forget that.
“Sokka?” Aang asks tentatively.
“Mom used to take us to see the spirits lights, every year,” Sokka tells Aang. “Until… I was eight. And then the Fire Nation, ” he spits out, “came to raid our village.”
Aang’s eyes widen in understanding, then cloud in grief.
“She,” Katara’s voice cracks. A single tear slips down her cheek,“She said that this is when the veil between the spirit and the human world was at its thinnest. And the lights were our loved ones dancing across the sky.” His baby sister blinks firmly, mouth in a firm line. “She was gone by the next light.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Zuko’s voice rasps through the silence. The three of them freeze.
The fucking jerkbending prince of the murderous Fire Nation shifts to sit in siesza and bows low from his waist towards them. “I’m so, so sorry,” Zuko repeats. “Sokka and Katara of Water Tribe, I, Prince Zuko of Fire Nation formally apologise for the destruction and grief my nation has wrought upon your family,” He shifts and bows again towards Aang, and all Sokka’s functioning limbs and scathing words come to a screeching halt.
Zuko’s voice shakes a little, but it doesn’t break. “Aang of the Air Nomads, I formally apologise for the destruction and annihilation of your people. It was done without honour, and… there is no excuse for our conduct.”
Zuko’s manner is similar to the stiff, proper apology Sokka had heard him issue earlier. Must be a Fire Nation thing , Sokka thinks vaguely, because it’s a lot easier and safer to be analytical right now than to allow himself to feel these emotions he’s feeling.
“Apologies don’t bring back the dead,” Sokka bites out, because what else can he say?
“I know,” Zuko says, and Sokka’s about to snap but the next words stop him dead, “I lost my mother, too.”
His golden eyes, strangely beautiful in the backdrop of the colorful aurora, are glistening.
Sokka realises distantly that he's never seen Zuko look as he does right now, all lines of anger and rage wiped cleanly away. It’s enough that, even with the massive scarring, Zuko looks almost… guileless. Gentle and earnest in a way Sokka would have never equated to him.
That thought crumbles away like so much ash. Anger churns, low and hot, yet Sokka can’t even direct it towards this figure sitting so solemnly across from them.
Because while everything in Sokka demands Zuko be the villain, to fit in this little narrative he’s crafted for himself, he’s rational enough to recognise that Zuko’s stricken features are far too young to be claiming all of his nation’s cruelty on his barely grown shoulders. To hate him is like hating Yue for the decisions of her forefathers in separating the South and North Water Tribe resources, or hating Dad for having to go to war.
Sokka searches those golden eyes for any hint of trickery or mocking. But he can feel Zuko’s horror clearly, his thoughts coming clearly through their mental link.
-We did this-
There’s a strange echo of churning that’s not from Sokka’s own gut, and moreso, an even stranger mix of guilt and grief that makes his eyes prick with heat despite the cool night air.
***
They don’t talk much after that.
***
Zuko’s temporary truce with the Avatar was A Really Bad Plan in hindsight.
They drop Zuko off the moment they reach land.
“So… we’re just going to pretend the last couple of hours didn’t happen,” Sokka asks.
Zuko doesn’t answer. Why should he? Sokka can see into his head.
Aang’s eyes find his. “So… what are you planning to do after this?”
Planning to do? Zuko doesn’t know. He’s never had a sensible plan his entire life. When do plans ever go right, anyway?
He could give the Avatar and his companions a headstart while he finds and regroups with Uncle, then begin the chase again. But then he shouldn’t have travelled away from the North in the first place. Riding with the Avatar was, probably not one of Zuko’s best moves.
(Still better than challenging the general in the war room, all those years ago.)
He could set up camp and think about his place in the universe? (Sokka snorts. Zuko glares.) But that might bring further questions Zuko doesn’t want to think about too hard.
Zuko tells them it’s the first option, because that’s what is expected of him, what’s needed for him to regain his honor. Aang looks disappointed of all things, rather than scared or pissed off as he should be.
He’s aware of Sokka’s eyes lingering on him. He meets that ocean blue gaze head on. Weirdly, Sokka has a look about him right then that reminds him of Uncle Iroh: that strange mixture of sad and hopeful, like he’s patiently waiting for something to happen.
“What?” Zuko snaps, defensive though he doesn’t quite know why. “Something on my face?”
Sokka’s lips twitch up even as his eyebrows do something funny like he’s horrified Zuko would say such a thing. “Uh, nothing,” he replies, clearly lying through his teeth. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”
Zuko frowns at him. “There’s nothing to figure out, you’re literally in my head.”
“Unfortunately.”
“The sentiment is mutual.”
“Okay,” Aang says loudly, as per what Zuko’s starting to expect as his tendency to be the peacemaker in the team. “Time to go. It’s been nice getting to know you, Zuko!”
How does he manage to say that with a straight face? Or does he really mean every word? Zuko doesn’t know, but he’s finding it increasingly hard to imagine bringing his Father the Avatar now that he knows it’s this frankly sweet kid before him, who’s almost too good to be real.
He’s just a kid, Zuko’s mind whispers.
And he now knows for sure that both Water Tribe siblings are fiercely loyal and likely to die before letting him get through them.
If it came to getting through them to get the Avatar, Zuko’s not sure what he can do. In more ways than one.
It had been so much easier when Aang and his friends had been an annoying obstacle in his way to regaining his honour and his home, rather than children with names and their own quiet grief. Now, Zuko can no longer ignore the shreds of doubt that have clawed its way up from where he’s shoved it away.
Weak. I’ve always been weak like Father says I am.
Zuko doesn’t know how he’s going to face them again, and treat them only as an enemy. He’s not sure he has it in him.
I’m so screwed.
The Water Tribe boy has a solemn expression on his face that Zuko can’t decipher. “You know, having good inside of you isn’t enough,” Sokka says nonsensically, sounding very much like Iroh. “It’s got to be let outside of you, too.”**
Zuko must be subconsciously missing his uncle if he’s starting to compare this water tribe boy to Uncle. “What are you talking about?!”
Sokka just shakes his head and hops on the saddle. “If you haven’t gotten it yet, you’re not going to get it now,” he says. “Bye, prince jerkbender. Hope ...to never see you again, I guess?”
Zuko opens his mouth, but his response gets lost in Appa’s mighty groan and the sky bison takes off.
***
(Yes, Zuko did get to pet it. At least there is that.)
***
Notes:
A/N: Did anyone catch the inversion and adaptation of Sokka’s quote? Sokka says this to Uncle Iroh in season 2, episode 20, the Crossroads of Destiny. He’s protesting Iroh’s suggestion that they save Zuko. It was so much fun to invest it here. I hope it makes narrative sense too, because throughout the entire flight Zuko’s been quietly going through a moral crisis as he realises up close the destruction caused by his beloved Fire Nation upon other people. Sokka has full access to Zuko’s thoughts the entire time he’s busy having a breakdown. It’s like Iroh seeing all of Zuko’s turmoil and confusion, minus the context of why. Poor Sokka too!
Chapter 8: Your damage damages me
Notes:
***PSA -Highly, HIGHLY recommend that you listen to the audio version of this chapter for the little sound effects plus amazing voice projection. :D
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 15:22
chapter 08 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
When Sokka next wakes up, he doesn’t know why his body bothered to do it at all, because he’s convinced he’s dying.
Sokka’s heard of the tribe elders speaking of agony so severe that death was considered a mercy, but he had never understood them until now. Sensitive nerves sing their dirge of pain and try to claim his attention, but Sokka’s so lost in the haze that he doesn’t know where to even start looking.
He lets out a tortured moan and rolls over, feeling every bone and muscle in his body protest. It’s burning and agony and Sokka’s going to die -
“Are you all right?” Quick, muffled footsteps whisper in Sokka’s ears, and he jerks back in shock as a dry palm presses against his brow. It feels both like fire and ice, and Sokka really really doesn’t want that anywhere near his person right now.
“Sokka, you need to tell me what’s wrong,” Katara’s voice is firm, that no-nonsense voice she uses when she’s no longer his little sister and has slipped into healer mode. She bends down until Sokka has no choice but to meet that worried blue gaze. “You don’t have a fever, but you look -- bad. What hurts?”
“Everything,” Sokka grits out. “Think ‘m dying, Katara.”
He’s not exaggerating. It’s a mark of how worried Katara is that she doesn’t roll her eyes or make fun of him. Somehow more than anything, that terrifies Sokka the most.
‘Sokka, look at me!” Katara sounds frantic, so Sokka makes the heroic effort to drag his head upwards. The sight that greets him as soon as he opens his eyes is like looking into a particularly bright sun. White and gold bleaches out the world, jumping and sparking like lightning gone mad. Katara’s silhouette is just a suggestion of an outline.
“Find Zuko,” Sokka rasps. The hands that have been touching Sokka still. Sokka doesn’t know why he says it with such certainty, but he knows, knows in his bones and veins and lungs that if he doesn't he’s going to die.
With each breath, the mental pull that bonds him to Zuko is going wild, like a storm that’s brewing with the promise of so much violence behind it.
Sokka passes into blissful oblivion before he can find it in him to understand the implications.
***
Halfway across the continent, Zuko’s not doing so hot either.
It’s a little strange for him, going from the constant chatter of the Avatar and his companions back to the usual silence that surrounds him. Zuko’s sure he’ll get used to it again soon enough, but it does leave the discomfiting sense of something he’s missing. Like a non-lethal stab wound, or burn: not imminently dangerous, but noticeably present.
A couple of hours later, based on the position of Agni in the sky, Zuko’s wondering if it’s something else he’s missing.
Shivers have been working its merry way down Zuko’s spine from the moment he left the Avatar and his companions. He huddles deeper into his flimsy, dirtied shirt wincing as the stiffness in his joints abruptly increases.
With every second his skin seems to lose more heat.
This is ridiculous. Zuko’s a firebender. He's a fire prince . His inner flame should be more than enough to keep him warm. Scowling as clear thoughts begin to blur, Zuko takes a deep breath. On the exhale, he tries to light a fire on the log pieces he’s managed to put together despite the increased blur of his vision.
Energy punches through him, bright and harsh, and Zuko’s thoughts scatter as he fights to control the simple flame. Half the wood turns to nothing but smoke and ash in a blink, while the other half of the flame just- flickers out.
Zuko stares at the log in shock. It’s been a long time since he’s struggled to control the intensity of his bending like that, not since. Since- Father burnt half his face off.
Now the shivers have become harsh and dig bone-deep, dragging a little curse out of him.
Get up, Zuko tells himself, even as his eyelids begin to fall shut. Get UP. In this state Zuko would be a sitting turtleduck for any opportunistic soul who came along.
He doesn’t know how long he stays like that - it could have been an hour, it could have been until the next rays of Agni graced the land. It’s hard to tell because nausea whirls and recedes and whirls in his gut and the buzzing in his head increases. His vision grows fuzzy, almost like the early days after the burning where Zuko had almost suffered vision loss in both eyes (sympathetic blindness, the doctor had called it.)
Get up. Never give up without a fight.
Zuko’s only given up one fight in his life before, and it’s gotten him half his face burnt off. He will never give another.
Stand and fight, Prince Zuko.
“Zuko!”
Zuko’s vaguely surprised to find himself on his feet, wheezing painfully as an unidentified person winds their arms around him to prop him upright. He tries to pull away - he’s never liked being touched, touch brings pain unless it’s Uncle - but the person’s grasp is firm in its gentleness.
“You’re freezing - Just hold on a bit longer, okay-”
He tries to snap at the frantic, young voice, but the words drift away before they form in his throat, Vaguely, Zuko wonders who it is whose hands handle him with so much… care as though he’s fragile glass. It’s disorienting in its kindness, and it makes him wary - what do they have in store, what’s their game-
The next sensation Zuko’s conscious of is being lifted into the air, once again gentle rather than jerky as the motion should have been, and then his body is laid onto something decidedly padded and solid.
The constant buzzing clouds over his thoughts, until Zuko doesn’t know where the line to his real self begins and where it ends. Only the awareness of one thing manages to filter through the haze.
A tugging sensation pulls at him, cajoling and coaxing towards the figure beside him. Acting on some desperate instinct he doesn’t understand, Zuko reaches out until his fingers brush against theirs, and-
The fingers curl back around his own, and draw him close. And where there was freezing cold and confused fear now there was comfort, and warmth . Warmth floods in, like Agni’s rays in the light of dawn meditation, like the pleasant heat of noon under shaded leaves in the turtleduck pond, like his mother’s embrace--
Zuko gasps , clutching desperately at their shoulder. He burrows his head into their shoulder and takes the first deep breath he’s been able to for what feels like forever. He breathes and sinks into the feeling of safety, of comfort. It’s not just Zuko - the arms around him bring him closer, holding him tight, tugging his left side into them as if fiercely guarding Zuko’s weaker side against outside threats. The both of them curl into each other, giving and seeking more of that solace, that comfort. It feels so right and so good and Zuko never ever wants this embrace to end-
Things begin to make sense again as the uncontrollable shivering of his body ceases and the haze recedes. And Zuko slowly becomes aware of who it is he’s clinging to, whose hold was both fierce and protective.
The vision in his mind clears. Ocean blue eyes, beautiful dark skin. A sharp jawline and sharper mind belied by a grin of mischief, so warm that it fills the onlooker with lightness of being, and incredible joy. An orca-wolf’s protectiveness, a hunter’s reflex.
Sokka.
Zuko opens his eyes. Gold meets blue, and despite every bone in his body insisting to stay where he is, to curl in further, he recoils.
***
“How would you describe your pain now, on a scale of one to ten?” the waterbender asks pragmatically as water hovers and falls away from Zuko’s being. “One being minimal, and ten being the most agony you've ever known.”
Zuko both tries and fails not to shift away from the watebender’s fingers. He thinks he sees something like regret on her face.
Using a subjective scale like that has its flaws. Some people go through their whole lives without seriously injuring themselves, while others...
Others lose their eye and hearing in the fire and the flames.
“It was an eight, earlier,” Zuko rasps coldly, not caring that his voice scrapes down his throat like barbed wire. “Now it’s a two, maybe.”
He rubs at his face. His scar is itching, as it frequently does, and he can’t tell if it’s phantom pain or actual irritation from the cold air nipping at his skin.
Across him, the water tribe boy who is his soul-bonded - and apparently, that carries far more gravity than they previously thought- is rubbing at his own (unmarred) left eye. A flicker of unfocused guilt shoots through Zuko’s heart.
They’re both avoiding each other’s gazes.
Zuko feels cold.
“So, I’m fairly sure we weren’t meant to meet again this soon,” Sokka finally says, seemingly to the general air, but it’s quite clear who he’s speaking to.
Zuko scowls at the little gold-blue thread that’s pulsing merrily away between their wrists, somehow grown thicker than how Zuko remembers it last. “I was hoping it’d be in different circumstances.”
Inside, he’s quietly hyperventilating.
Zuko’s clustered together with the Avatar and his companions, on land this time, with Appa taking a deep slumber behind them. Zuko’s less than thrilled about the circumstances, but he’s happy the air bison is getting some likely much-needed rest.
Apparently the Avatar and his companions found Zuko unconscious in the little clearing he’d chosen to spend his night as he thought about his next move. It had been fairly easy to locate him, the waterbender had said, because the flames Zuko's managed to light up right before passing out had been merrily licking up his surroundings.
Zuko presses the hastily-healed burns on his arms, and tries not to shudder. Across him, Sokka flinches.
“Stop touching them,” Katara reprimands him, but her eyes are on her brother. “If you’re hurt, he’ll feel it too.”
Katara’s drinking in the sight of Sokka like she thinks there is a chance she might have lost him completely. Her body language is protective and demanding, while Sokka has his body turned towards her in open trust.
Zuko watches them with a kind of longing, remembering amber eyes, a sly smile, features near identical to his if only perhaps more rounded. He tries not to think of Azula much, because it brings a confusing mix of emotions he doesn’t know how to deal with, but watching the Water Tribe siblings interact brings his little sister forcefully to mind.
Zuko and Azula have never been able to have that kind of relationship. They were destined not to, just by pure virtue of being Ozai’s children.
“Okay, so now we know there’s a certain distance soul-bonded people can’t separate from each other,” Sokka says, his voice going deep with thought as he stares at the thread of gold-blue between Zuko and himself. “Or else we both basically end up as zombies.”
“That looked kind of bad,” Aang agrees, gesturing vaguely at the manifestation of the soul bond. “What did it feel like, when we were flying away?”
“Like something’s tugging on the line,” Sokka answers gloomily. “If I step too far out, I’m going to-”
“-pass out. Find it too hard to breathe,” Zuko finishes.
“Amazing,” Sokka grumbles. “Just amazing. Being co-dependent is just the last thing we need.”
Zuko deeply agrees. He’s disturbed by the implications- the both of them were twice as vulnerable this way, it would only take felling one to topple the other. More than that Father would absolutely not forgive him for getting himself soul-bonded to anyone , much less a Water Tribe peasant. It would be seen as a weakness, for sure.
Sokka’s frowning. “But… there’s got to be something we’re missing, or else it doesn’t make sense.” At the curious looks from the rest of them, Sokka elaborates. “Zhao wanted to soulbond Aang to himself, right? To harness his power or whatever. I don’t understand why he even wants to bind two souls together. If this is the result- both people in the soulbound are too weak to stand for more than a few minutes when apart, then how can it be of use to him?” Sokka muses aloud. “Unless he planned to cart Aang along everywhere like a puppet.”
Zuko shudders, knuckles turning white. Sokka glances his way, but doesn’t comment. Zuko bristles anyway.
“It just means Zhao’s as much of an idiot as I thought,” Zuko growls. “Either way, we need to find a way to break the soul bond. I don’t suppose the Avatar would know anything about how.”
Sokka exhales. “Are we back to this? Just call him Aang,” he snaps.
Zuko opens his mouth to snarl back, but stops short when he realises the Water Tribe boy is still rubbing away at the left side of his face. Zuko’s fairly certain it's his scar that’s hurting, with Sokka only receiving the impressions, so he vaguely wonders if he should apologise.
Sokka catches Zuko’s gaze and minutely shakes his head. Impossibly, Zuko’s insides turn even colder.
Fuck. If he’s going to have to travel with the Avatar and his companions for much longer, he needs to find a way to shield his thoughts. This constant exposure is dangerous and puts him in a very vulnerable spot. Zuko can’t afford it.
Sokka’s searching gaze turns into a scowl. “Yeah, I’m just as not thrilled about it as you are, jerkbender.”
Aang, who’s been watching their interaction with a peculiar sort of look in his eyes, shakes his head minutely. “Like I said, soulbonds were rare even back then,” Aang says slowly. “The monks didn’t have much to teach us.” Just as Zuko’s about to rage, he continues, “But, I do think there's a place we can find out more about them.”
***
Turns out there’s a Spirit Library somewhere in the middle of the Si Wong desert, which Zuko has searched for on his hunt for the Avatar before deciding it was fictional figment rather than truth. And now, he’s heading there with the Avatar himself.
It’s an unspoken agreement that the truce between the Avatar’s companions and himself would continue until the matter of the soulbond is resolved and they continue the game of chase-and-capture without either Zuko or Sokka becoming incapacitated or dying.
Privately, Zuko thinks as they ready Appa, if he lives long enough to tell the palace scribes of his adventures one far flung day in the future, they would laugh him off the court and accuse him of making half this shit up, even if Zuko doubts he is creative enough to.
Sokka laughs at him. Zuko flushes and glares, ignoring the warmth that fills him at the proximity of the other, the tug from the bond that wants them to come closer...
The sooner they figured out how to break this stupid bond and its stupid pull, the better.
Notes:
whoops, now it seems they're stuck together even in distance...
So, some readers have been asking about shared dreams.... the good stuff is coming up....in the next chapter which is personally one of my FAVOURITES😆
Chapter 9: Uncomfortable epiphanies
Notes:
hello! been excited about this chapter and the next one for some time. If you haven't yet listened to any of the audio so far, highly highly recommend that you start with this chapter becausseeeee there's a songggggg and cuteness XD
Thank you so much for your lovely comments, they feed us and keep us going <3 T^T/looks at sleepless nights and lack of social life/ whispers / it was worth it /
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 14:45
chapter 09 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Right before they set off, Sokka does a little experiment.
“Okay,” Sokka says. “Let’s try this. Try to take three steps forward, Zuko.”
“Don’t order me around,” Zuko snaps, but he follows the directions anyway. The soft, fuzzy warm feeling from their earlier-cuddling, whatever it was- has dissipated, and now the air is tense. Both boys avoid each other's eyes as much as possible, fidgeting uncomfortably whenever their eyes happen to catch. The bond between them sings, asking for proximity, pleading for that earlier comfort- a stark contrast to what’s actually happening on the ground.
“Another four steps,” Sokka instructs. “Oooookay, stop.” Sokka studies the distance between them. “So, this seems to be as far as we can go before we both start becoming the human equivalent of jellyfish.”
Four pairs of eyes study the length between Sokka and Zuko.
It’s… not very far.
“Fuck,” Zuko says with feeling. Sokka agrees.
See, Sokka’s a guy with an excellent sense of humor, okay, and he might have been able to appreciate the hilarity behind the awkwardness - had he been soulbonded to anyone but Prince Jerkbender.
For one, since he woke up to the warm body curled into his own, a pale-skinned forehead pressed into his shoulder, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore how startlingly attractive Zuko is. Honey gold eyes against startlingly long lashes had blinked up at him, dark hair a beautiful contrast against light skin, cocooned by the warmth of the bond. Sokka had thought, Shit.
This was not the time to be thinking of such things, so Sokka’s going to firmly ignore his overactive thoughts.
Not that that is too hard to do, now that another’s thoughts pervades his own. For another thing, the drifts of shadowed memory Sokka keeps getting is… distracting. Sokka’s fairly sure it isn’t coming from his own head (when had he ever seen so much crimson?) but if it’s Prince Jerkbender’s thoughts, it doesn’t just consist of a litany of honourhonourhonour find the Avatar regain my honour, as Sokka would have previously assumed.
In fact, the stray memories are rather disturbing in their mystery. Who was that beautiful lady, so prevalent, a golden memory, in a haze of everything that seemed to glimmer grey? So many flashes of burns and sears all over his body- Zuko didn’t seem to be particularly accident prone, but he did seem to have a(n un)healthy reckless streak coupled with a distinct lack of self-preservation, so maybe that’s it. And why does Sokka keep seeing random flashes of furry creatures, especially turtleducks?
Sokka keeps having to rub at the left side of his face that keeps itching . Sometimes it sharpens to a dull pain from the cold, and begins to throb, and Sokka’s not going to think too much about that because then he’s going to have Questions.
Sokka would have been intrigued by the science if he hadn’t been slightly freaked out. Seriously, even Aang’s sunny optimistic flowery view of the world would have been better than this.
Spirits, couldn’t the universe give Sokka a break?
Thankfully, the other two don't tease them about it. Sokka’s not sure he could handle that.
***
Zuko’s not feeling very happy.
Scratch that, he’s never happy, but usually it’s just a floating solid mass of misery. Now, it’s amplified, and there’s specific places to target his ire.
For one, Zuko’s travelling with the Avatar and the Avatar’s companions, who he’s supposed to be chasing to regain his honour and make Ozai proud. That was bad enough. It feels like an active act of treason against Father. Zuko shudders at the thought of what Father would do if he ever finds out that Zuko’s doing this.
He can hear the disdain in Father’s voice.
Consorting with the enemy. You have fallen so far, boy. Suffering has taught you nothing.
Zuko shudders.
Then, there’s the larger and more immediate, urgent problem that is this soulbond between him and the Water Tribe boy. After the earlier scare and the… embrace that Zuko is never ever going to think about again for as long as he lives , he can’t look at Sokka without feeling a slight flush creep up his cheeks. It’s hard to admit it to himself, but he wants more of that strange protectiveness, the lightness that filled his being, the unfamiliar kindness. It’s pathetic, Zuko knows, but it’s- hard. He wants more, he wants , because the last kind touch he remembers with any clarity is Mother’s, and she’s been gone for almost six years. Uncle had tried, Agni bless him, but Zuko never let him because such things are for kids and Zuko had better things to do like finding the Avatar.
The mental channel between them seems to be wide open. Zuko keeps catching stray thoughts that clearly aren’t his: hungry, wonder if we have any seal jerky left? Memories of vast seas from the inside of a little boat Zuko’s never sat in, the inside of igloo homes he’s never treaded in. Flashes of little aquatic creatures Zuko’s own eyes have never seen, though Zuko doesn’t mind those too much. White hair and blue eyes, the Princess’ smile somehow more beautiful than Zuko’s own memory.
It’s disconcerting, and it made Zuko extremely uncomfortable because if he’s seeing all this, what’s Sokka seeing in his memories?
It’s a scary thing to consider.
“I won’t talk about it if you won’t,” Sokka tells him hastily from where he’s sitting across in Appa’s saddle, as far away as it’s possible to get.
Zuko blanches, hoping the other boy didn’t hear the entire spiel that just went on his head. “Okay.” he nods in agreement.
“Great,” Sokka says. “Whatever goes on inside,” he waves a hand around his head, “Stays inside.”
“Agreed,” Zuko promises, on his honour- what’s left of it, anyway.
Despite the promise, Zuko feels uneasy. Azula happily twisted promises to suit her liking, somehow always finding loopholes in them. Who’s to say Sokka wouldn’t do the same? They’re both sharp of mind, and had similar cynical outlooks.
Zuko’s mind is his only reliable fortress, and he cannot allow it to be compromised, so he resolves to at least find himself a shield.
“I’m going to meditate,” Zuko announces to the group. The Avatar whips his head around curiously, instantly interested. “It requires a flame, but it will not harm you.”
Aang leans forward, making Zuko tense, wary. Was he unwittingly committing treason by opening Firebender secrets to the Fire Nation’s enemy?
“Kuzon used to do that,” Aang says. “I never understood how he could focus with an open flame in front of him.” Zuko frowns at the second mention of that hundred year, very old-fashioned name, and remembers unwillingly that this is the same… kid who offered him friendship when all he offered back was flames and a knife.
“You meditate?” Sokka asks, sounding surprised.
“Of course. Meditation hones the breath, and breath is essential to firebending.”
“Huh.” Sokka sounds contemplative, as Aang winces for some odd reason. “Would never have guessed.”
“What are you insinuating?”
Sokka shrugs, lips turning up in an almost sly manner, but it lacks the vicious edge of Azula’s smirk when she’s about to verbally murder Zuko. Instead, the water tribe boy’s tone is warmer than she’s ever been. “It’s just that…Meditation sounds too calm, for someone as ragey as you, prince jerkbender.
Zuko absolutely does not rage at him for that.
***
(Okay, maybe he does a little, but the water tribe asshole absolutely deserves it.)
***
They don’t find information in that stupid desert library, but they do almost get killed by the large owl-cat shaped Spirit guarding it, as per the average weekday with the Avatar.
Large owl-like eyes the size of Zuko’s head blink at them all, like the Spirit can’t decide whether to be hostile or not to this ragtag group. “Hmm. You are a curious bunch indeed.”
Zuko’s been raised to view Spirits with reverence, but three years of chasing the Avatar through anything that even remotely hinted at magic tainted that reverence with a healthy dose of wariness and skepticism.
So in a move that would make Uncle proud of him, Zuko doesn’t speak first. He elects to study the rather cute Fox Spirits floating about Wan Shi Tong instead. He lets the Avatar, the bridge between the physical and the spiritual realm, make the first move. Perhaps observing the interaction will allow him to learn something.
-except, as Zuko’s starting to realise, beyond temporary displays of fearsome, ancient power, the Avatar he’s been sent out to capture and bring back is really just--- what he is on the surface. A kid.
“O Wan Shi Tong the Wise, Sir,” Aang says, bowing respectfully even as he bounces on the heels of his toes, “Please allow us access to your vast collection of knowledge.”
The owl hums in deep thought. When it speaks, its voice reverberates.
“Ancient wisdom woven in a child’s body, with the youthful lens of hope. Hold on to that hope, and you will go far, young one.”
Aang blinks, taken aback. “Um, thanks?
It studies Katara next. “Compassion in lethal form,” it announces. “You make a fine companion for the Avatar.”
Katara and Aang both turn pink. Sokka makes a face. Zuko glances between all three of them curiously. Clearly something just transpired, but he doesn’t quite understand it. He wonders if he should be wary, but then the echo of thoughts he’s getting from Sokka isn’t malicious, just embarrassed?
Sokka shoots him a rueful grin. “Oogie,” he stage-whispers. Katara thwacks him on the arm. “Shut up, Sokka.”
Zuko is so confused.
Sokka’s reply is swiftly silenced as Wan Shi Tong moves to loom over him next. “Mind as sharp as a blade, heart of a swordsman,” the Spirit mutters. Sokka preens. “You will be the key to unify many in the future.”
“Ah, but what’s this? You are bound to another.”
Its eyes land on Zuko, who scowls, pausing in his attempt to pet the fox-like spirit that had wandered close to him (What? It’s cute.) “You have known great darkness and your heart is conflicted,” the Spirit began, but Zuko cut him off. He really, really doesn’t want to hear what the Spirit has to say.
“Do all you Spirits speak so cryptically?” Even worse than Uncle , he thinks. Sokka hacks out a laugh which he hastily turns into a cough, but Zuko scarcely hears it as he’s feeling a pang at the thought of Iroh. I hope Uncle’s alright.
Wan Shi Tong tuts, flapping its wings in a way that screams displeasure. The sound echoes through the chambers of the library, reverberating like ancient whispers. “Careful, child. Less your disrespect invokes my ire.”
Zuko goes cold at the word, taking an inadvertent step back, not even noticing the fox critter thing following him. Disrespect. That choice of wording has to have been intentional. The Owl-Spirit grins, something malicious in its eyes.
The air shifts and suddenly Sokka’s much closer, standing almost protectively between Zuko and Wan Shi Tong. Zuko blinks at the steady presence, some of the cold seeping away as the bond trills happily between them.
“Whoa, there. We don’t mean any trouble,” Sokka says.
“Please, O Great, Wise Ancient Spirit.” Aang repeats calmly, and this time his voice seems to reverberate with more than just a child’s inflection. Wan Shi Tong’s feathers settle down. “We do not mean any harm. We only wish to seek a drop of your fountain of knowledge.”
The Spirit and the Spirit Bridge gaze at each other for a second longer. Aang’s tattoos begin to glow almost ominously, and Zuko feels the hairs on his skin rise.
The moment is broken, as the former seems to find something he’s looking for in the Avatar’s glow, and gives way. “Very well. I'll let you peruse my vast collection on one condition. To prove your worth as scholars, you have to contribute some worthwhile artefact to my library.”
“ Uh, worthwhile artefact? ” Aang repeats, looking a little lost as the Spirit bends its body in an impossible contortion that reminds Zuko of Ty Lee, and makes him miss home just that little bit more.
“Yes. I am waiting, young Avatar.”
“Just… give us a second to discuss,” Sokka finishes for him, then turns to the rest of them. “Uh… any of you got anything he’d consider worthwhile?”
Aang’s already shaking his head. “Air Nomads travel light,” he tells them as Zuko had expected he would. He’s studied all about them obsessively, after all. “I don’t have anything…”
“I have a waterbending scroll,” Katara says haltingly, holding up a familiar piece of parchment that makes Zuko’s insides twist with a weird feeling of shame.
“Interesting, but I have many scrolls of knowledge.” Wan Shi Tong ruffles its feathers in what zuko’s starting to learn is the Spirit-Owl equivalent of a No . Katara looks relieved.
Sokka hesitates for only a moment. “Boomerang?”
He waves the weapon up at the Spirit. Zuko distinctly remembers how much that thing had hurt when it had bonked him in the back of the neck and winces.
The Spirit scoffs. “Human machinations of murder and war disgust me.” Sokka scoffs back, muttering words under his breath that is definitely disrespectful, but luckily the Spirit doesn’t comment.
Blue eyes find gold. “Zuko?”
“I don’t think I have anything of interest.” Zuko gestures to himself with the one hand that’s not still petting the fox (What? It’s as insistent as it is cute.) It’s not like he’s got anything on his person, short of the no-longer white robes he’s been wearing since their little North Pole fiasco.
The Spirit huffs, dismissal clear. “If you have nothing of interest, you may leave.”
Aang hesitates. “Wait.” He lifts up something, movements slow. It takes Zuko a moment to recognise what it is.
His airbender staff. The one that, not too long ago, had given Zuko so much trouble it’s almost comical to remember now.
Wan Shi Tong perks up. “Oh? What’s this?” Beady eyes greedily study the staff. “Ooooooh. Air Nomad artefacts are exceedingly rare.” Its tone is approving.
Katara’s already protesting. “Aang, no, you can’t give that up.”
“Yeah, but…” Aang tries to smile. “It’s okay. Air Nomads aren’t supposed to get attached to anything material, anyway.”
The way he’s holding on to the staff contradicts his own statement, though. “Yeah, but it’s the only thing you have from your temple,” Sokka says. “We’ll find something else, Aang.”
It’s the first time Zuko sees the Avatar looking anything close to miserable. And… well, He tries - he tries really, really hard not to feel it- but something in his chest softens at the unhappiness in the kid’s eyes.
Zuko understands more than anyone what it’s like to cling to a remnant of a home long lost to memory, after all.
It’s even harder to push away the sympathy he should absolutely not be feeling for the enemy of Fire Nation, when he remembers that it’s his people that relegated the airbenders to this.
The memory of tiny skulls littering temple walls resurface. Sympathy turns into a sharp stab of guilt.
“It’s okay.” Aang’s already trying to smile. He looks at Sokka and Zuko. “We need to find out how to break your soulbond, right? Or else both of you will be trapped like this forever.” Both older boys shudder. “And then be vulnerable in some way, forever. It’s okay. It’s just a staff, in the end.”
Agni. Zuko cannot believe this...frankly sweet child is the Avatar.
“A fine addition it will make to my collection.” Wan Shi Tong looks as gleeful as an overlarge Owl can look as he swoops in to take the staff. The last relic of the Air Nomads Aang will ever have, beyond Appa.
The Avatar’s supposed to be the enemy. But holding up something precious to him as sacrifice. Aang, at that moment, looks more like a kid than Zuko’s ever seen him to be, one giving up his favourite toy.
“Wait!” Zuko’s voice rings out. Every human and non-human eye turns to him, like that day in Father’s War Room. “That-that’s not on offer,” he says hastily, as Wan Shi Tong’s disconcerting eyes begin to storm. “But- does it have to be an artefact? Would you accept something worthwhile in the form of knowledge instead? Sir?”
Brilliant , Sokka’s mental voice filters in. My intelligence is rubbing off on you!
Zuko rolls his eyes. What intelligence? He mentally shoots back, the banter coming easy. Or do you mean lack of it?
Sokka very maturely sticks out his tongue, proving the point. Aang and Katara look bemused.
“Hmm.” Wan Shi Tong tilts its head. “Knowledge. An interesting offer. And what knowledge does one so young have that I in my wise years of age know not?”
Well. Zuko could probably demonstrate 5 different ways to maim someone without killing them with pinpoint fire (he had been an excellent test subject for Azula), or recite the haunting monologue of the Blue Spirit from Love Amongst the Dragons, but he’s fairly sure that’s not the kind of knowledge Wan Shi Tong wants.
He offers both, anyway. The first suggestion causes the Avatar and his companions to have expressions that range from troubled to shock, but Wan Shi Tong only looks enraged. “I have no interest in human machinations of murder and war!” The Spirit repeats.
Hypocritical considering he looks ready to murder us , Sokka’s mental voice whispers. Zuko kills a startled laugh before it makes it out of his mouth. He just about catches the pleased emotion from the other boy now.
Zuko’s second offer makes the Spirit appear to consider. “I know every line from Love Amongst the Dragons,” Wan Shi Tong says, while the rest of the group ogles at Zuko, who ignores them with great dignity. “But culture and the fine arts are of interest to me, and this library sadly lacks such.”
Zuko thinks fast, glancing around for inspiration. Scattered around them are several artefacts organised in a system he can’t understand just by looking, only that there clearly is one.
“Oh, hey!” Aang’s jumping on the balls of his foot suddenly. “I could sing?” he offers. The Spirit blinks at him in complete bewilderment, like what makes you think that’s valuable knowledge? and honestly? Zuko commiserates.
Aang’s still enthusiastic. “The Air Nomads have - had - all these beautiful songs to accompany our rituals, for every year of growth. I bet you haven't come across them before?”
The casual correction to past tense has Zuko wincing. Wan Shi Tong cocks its head the other way as it deliberates.
“You are correct, I know not of Air Nomad rites and rituals.” The Spirit ruffles one wing, and the fox spirit Zuko’s been petting chitters and scampers away. Zuko feels the loss of its softness a little - barring Appa, he can’t remember the last time he’d held something so soft- but it quickly returns with a scroll and a quill it holds in its maw.
Where had the feather for the quill came from, Zuko wonders, and decides not to ask. “Carry on, then young Avatar. I will transcribe it for our records.”
Aang beams, like any child would when asked to sing, but his eyes hold a kind of sorrow no child’s eyes should. When he begins, Zuko feels the blood draining from his face.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When we frolic in that grass,
The world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other”
doesn’t make any sense.
Let us meet each other there.
Zuko knows this song.
How could he not? He’s studied every scroll and rite and every single piece of the Air Nomad culture he could get his hands on, in his search for the elusive figure of the omniscient Avatar. It had been natural to pick this up, too.
Aang’s eyes open in shock when Zuko begins to sing too, his voice quiet but carrying clear.
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.
You must open your eyes to the colors of the world.
So don’t go back to sleep.
Zuko’s lower baritone notes contrast Aang’s higher, childlike voice nicely. Mother would have called it musical harmony, Zuko thinks. He wonders what she would think of him, if she could see him now. Would she approve? Would she be appalled? Father would.
Where the sun meets the moon, the dawn greets the day
Where the earth and the air touch, is where opens the way
Don’t go back to sleep.
When the middle we meet
Is when we’ll be complete
So don’t go back to sleep.
Like the sun always shines after the rain
Hope and dreams linger far past fear and pain
So don’t go back to sleep.
Right here in the majestic light
We lay to rest what blinds our sight
Mistrust and misgivings we suspend
With open hearts is how you and I can begin again.
And together, we begin again.
(Click here to listen to the song)
Everyone’s staring at him, save the Spirit, Zuko realises, and his face flushes. For whatever reason, his eyes meet Sokka’s, who looks completely off kilter. Zuko can’t read anything from him. Katara looks like she can’t decide what she’s thinking, either.
Zuko glances quickly at Aang, hoping he didn’t just misstep - would Aang see it as offensive, the Prince of Fire Nation appropriating his destroyed culture? Zuko probably would be ready to fireball the other person’s face in, if the positions had been reversed.
But, true to the big heart Zuko’s coming to realise Aang harbors, the Avatar only has a small smile on his face. A smile Zuko and the rest of his people don't deserve, no matter how righteous their side had been. Nothing was righteous enough for genocide.
There’s a look in Aang’s eyes that makes Zuko uncomfortable. “That was nice,” Aang comments quietly. “I didn’t know you sang, Zuko.”
“I- don’t,” Zuko says haltingly.
“Where’d you learn that?” Aang asks lightly, casually, like it didn’t matter very much when it obviously fucking did.
“I-um.” Zuko stumbles through his words, stomach suddenly coiling with burning shame . He looks away. “I learnt it from one of the scrolls at the Western Air Temple, back when I was looking for the Avatar. Um. For you.”
There's silence, as everyone contemplates the utter bizarreness of this universe, where the Prince of Fire Nation and the last airbender, with all the history of tragedy and fear between them, just performed a melody that spoke of hope and union. Wan Shi Tong’s fox spirits are still busy scribbling away. Then:
“Well,” Sokka drawls cheerily, “We’ve just dropped seven degrees of awkwardddddddd , huh.” The Water tribe boy slinging one hand across Aang and Zuko’s shoulder. To Zuko's surprise, his own body doesn’t even tense at the contact- Sokka’s pressure at his side is welcome and comforting. The gold-blue thread between them seems to hum in pleasure.
Zuko finds himself abruptly grateful for the Water Tribe boy right then, for his steady, solid presence and his constant ability to diffuse tension with well-placed wit. Ocean blue eyes grin at Zuko, almost beautiful in its warmth, and - and wow , where did that thought come from?
It must be the soulbond, Zuko decides with his face flushing as Wan Shi Tong finally sets them loose upon his collection. It’s messing with his head, and with Sokka’s.
Good thing they were going to get rid of it very soon.
Notes:
Credits to Jo Carthage and Phenomenal Asterisk for the creation of the song and contributing their voices :) please show them some love!
Would love to hear what you think of this chapter, it's one of our favourites (along with the next one! we have a mysterious,,, lightning bending guest coming...)
Chapter 10: Road to renegade
Notes:
The appearance of someone ….
Highly recommend you listen to the audio version of this chapter as the lightning sound effects are VERY SATISFYING
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 19:59
chapter 10 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
They do not get rid of it soon.
There are many, many scrolls and manuscripts filled with information on how to create bonds. Not just soulbonds, but ghost bonds, marriage bonds, family bonds. Sokka’s fascinated by them all. But there isn’t much about a soulbond itself.
“Maybe Zhao destroyed anything he’d found in this library,” Katara suggests, once they learn from the owl that General Mutton-chop had been there before them.
“I wouldn’t put it past the fucker,” Zuko mutters, features etched in a scowl.
Clearly the two firebenders have a history . Driven by his innate curiosity, Sokka tentatively reaches out through their soulbond. He discovers Zuko’s mental mindspace is a dark miasma of hatred and something like shame. Zuko flounders a bit and hastily slams his mental barriers shut.
Oh, that’s new. Sokka blinks as he meets gold eyes. Zuko’s scowling at him with that very familiar prince of rage look. But Sokka can feel the churning emotions underneath, so it’s hard to take it seriously anymore. At this point, honestly? The scowl’s almost endearing.
“Where’d you learn that?” Sokka asks aloud.
“Meditation strengthens the mind.” Zuko adopts a superior tone, and just like that, gone are his earlier feelings of goodwill. It’s Sokka’s turn to scowl.
“That’s not fair! If you get a mental shield, I should get one too!”
“It’s not like it’s easy to construct,” Zuko snaps. “It takes so much energy and focus that it’s not worth it. So stop purposely prying in my head!”
“Can’t help it,” Sokka mutters. He can feel the edge of their frustrations both sharpening.
After trawling through several hundred pages of several different tomes, the only useful thing they learn about soulbonds is in a singular footnote that had taken Sokka’s keen eye and mind to spot.
“Soulbonds are automatically dissolved,” Sokka reads out, “if one of the two bonded dies. This brings great agony to both parties, however, and there are not many records of those known to survive a broken soulbond with their mental state intact.” Well, that’s morbid,” he’d commented, failing to notice how Zuko had gone tense.
There’s a clatter. Sokka gets the second hand impression of alarm and determination before he sees it, and looks up to a mistrustful golden gaze.
“So, what now?” Zuko challenges, hands drawn up as his eyes flicker between the three of them. Assessing his odds for making it out of battle, Sokka realises in a weird mix of alarm and pity. “You’re going to kill me?”
That… thought hadn’t even occurred to Sokka. “We’re not killing anyone,” Aang says loudly. The firebender stares at him in clear skepticism. “No killing,” Aang insists. “There’s got to be another way. We just have to find it.”
“But I- I don’t-” Zuko’s brow furrows. “It’s three against one. You have the advantage of the full moon. I’m not at my peak strength, though I can probably still take you…”
Wow. Just wow. Have Zuko and self-preservation ever met? Is that a concept Zuko’s even familiar with? “Dude. Buddy. Stop digging yourself into a hole,” Sokka tells him. “We’re not killing anyone right now. We’re not about that.”
Zuko narrows his eyes further. “Back in the North Pole, you wanted to leave me behind to die.”
Sokka winces at the twinge of guilt that he rapidly shoves away. “Well, I was just being practical. You weren’t exactly on our side, were you? You still aren’t,” he defends, hackles rising up. “At the end of the day, we were enemies.”
“We are,” Zuko agrees. “So being practical, killing me is the simple solution, isn’t it?”
Spirits. Someone has to introduce this guy to the concept of keeping his mouth shut.“I’m… really not too wild about the potentially going mad bit,” Sokka points out. “I value my brains too much, thank you. The world needs this,” he gestures at himself grandly.
He’s surprisingly pleased when Zuko huffs out a startled laugh.
Sokka likes that laugh. He can’t help it. It reminds him of earlier, when he’d caught Zuko cradling a little spirit fox with a secretive, even littler smile that was almost sweet to look at. Sokka couldnt help but smile too.
He’s used to seeing rage on Zuko’s features, the scarring on his face making a scowl far more suited to the firebender than lighter expressions. So to see the rare moments of amusement or an actual smile on a face so prone to fury is rare, and almost precious in its rarity.
And fine, Sokka’s not above admitting to himself that it feels good that he’s the only one to have consistently managed to make it happen between the three of them. It’s a power trip, for sure, making the grouchy little Prince of Fire Nation smile.
That’s a dangerous line of thought and brains shouldn’t be allowed to think if they’re going to think that way, so Sokka shoves it. “Are you thinking of killing me?” Sokka asks pointedly instead, reversing the hands given to him.
Katara’s eyes suddenly have a murderous look about them, which- whoops , but Zuko only blinks. He honestly looks like the thought hasn’t even crossed his mind.
And it hasn’t, and Sokka knows this for sure because he’s in Zuko’s head if he ever wants to dip in, right? “So why would you think I’d want to?” Sokka asks. “Give us some credit, buddy. It wouldn’t be honourable,” he adds.
Zuko doesn’t respond to that. Instead the firebender closes his eyes, and all that Sokka’s feeling from him now is a miasma of doubt and misery and disbelief.
He wants to ask, but Aang’s already speaking. “The air nomads believed in peace and not raising a hand against another human in anything but defense.” Aang’s saying. “I don’t have much else of my culture, other than their teachings. I won’t sacrifice it for this. At the very least, I can…” Gray, puffin seal eyes find Zuko. “...honour them this way.”
***
Oh, Agni. Zuko thinks. Ozai is going to eat this kid alive.
It’s frightening to realise that he’s not sure he’s okay with that anymore
“Well, that was solidly useless,” Sokka concludes, shutting his book with a solid thwap. “After all the trouble we took to get here, too.”
What now? Unlike Zuko’s barely constructed mental shield (it takes a whole lot more energy and focus than he’d like to admit), Sokka’s thoughts come in without a filter. There's still not a single bit of ill intent in his thoughts. Zuko doesn’t understand it. Azula would have killed him without even considering an alternative. It would have been a practical decision on her end. She would have been the first to take any advantage to ensure her own survival.
Sokka had said it himself. Practical . Yet the thought doesn’t translate to action. We’re not about that! Give us more credit!
It troubles Zuko because it clashes completely with what he’s been taught, that the Water Tribe are savages, that the air Nomads were backward, barbaric people. Yet these people, his enemies, have demonstrated nothing of that expected savagery - only that they are prone to childish antics. Their moral compass, their honour , is strong. Better than some of Zuko’s own countrymen, Zuko thinks, remembering Zhao and his obsequiousness and his slimy hands.
If what Zuko had been taught hadn’t been accurate - what else is he wrong about?
***
Deep thoughts don’t suit Zuko, and it’s just as well. Because then, like a demon summoned, the little sister that’s been plaguing his thoughts is there, cackling madly.
Except- she’s not so little anymore, but infinitely crueler and colder, the perfect mini-copy of Ozai. Who has apparently, after sitting on his throne for three years, chosen now to send her to kill Zuko.
“You have a sister?” Katara demands in outrage, before she’s swiftly drawn into battle with the Fire Nation entourage.
“Azula!” Zuko can’t believe it. He cannot believe it. “What are you doing here?!”
“Making it so that I become an only child,” Azula cackles.
And then she shoots a playful fireball at him. Zuko knows it’s playful, and that Azula’s still toying with them, because he’s been on the receiving end of her warm-ups before. This is familiar.
What’s new is the colour of the flames. Searingly, painfully hot blue.
Azula has always been a prodigy.
The Avatar is crying out something. The roof of the library is creaking all around them, bits of sand falling in like the ominous promise of a very uncomfortable and unwanted burial. Zuko has no idea where anything is, only Sokka’s glowing presence near his-
There’s a lot of shouting and chaos, as Zuko tries to dispel Azula’s flames and realises that even after all these years he’s still woefully nowhere near her league. And to his horror, his own flames come out as nothing but little specks, like Zuko’s the seven year old late bloomer again-
What’s going on? Why can’t I bend?!
Rough hands are on him suddenly and Zuko lets out a gasp as he’s shoved back. Sokka grabs him by the front of his shirt and slams him against the wall, blue eyes blazing.
“Did you do this?”
“I-what?”
“Did you call your sister here?” Sokka hissed. “Send a message when we weren’t looking? Purposely get us to drop our guards so you can capture Aang?” Zuko’s so stunned by the accusation and the sudden change in demeanour that he takes a second too long to reply. Sokka slams him into the wall again, driving an inadvertent cry out of Zuko. “Well, did you?
The soulbond between them is sparking furiously and going haywire, clearly disliking this intense negativity between two soulbonded- unnatural , it seems to whisper, wrongwrongwrong -
Sokka’s grip is tight and suffocating like a man possessed, digging into Zuko with a strength he didn’t realise the Water tribe boy had in him. It brings back memories in Zuko’s mind, things he’d long buried: choking under the hold of shadowed features, desperately struggling against much larger hands, and it’s -it’s too much-
Zuko can’t breathe-
Sokka lets go of him abruptly and Zuko falls to his knees, gasping. With breath comes clarity, and Zuko rallies quickly, scrambling back. “No I didn’t!” Zuko snaps, hating how pathetically weak his voice sounds. Father would have smacked him. “I didn’t do anything, I didn’t call her here! I haven't been in contact with her for three whole years!”
Blue eyes study his furiously. Zuko meets them with defiance, baring his mind open for the other boy to see everything if he wanted.
But whatever Sokka’s looking for, he finds it in his eyes, because he gives a curt nod. “Alright.”
No apologies come with it, Zuko notes resentfully, shuddering at the phantom bruises he still feels on his throat from much larger hands. Sokka grimaces, both defensive and begrudgingly contrite.
“I had to be sure,” Sokka explains, in lieu of an actual apology. “Because we’re soulbonded, and if she’s tracking us because of you, then there’s no point in me going with Aang-”
A resounding crash as the roof above their heads fell in, and Zuko’s being manhandled a second time as the Water tribe boy wrestles him to his feet. “ C’mon, we gotta go!!! ”
There’s a lot of running, and shouting amid the screech of a very irate Owl Spirit. Zuko tries to throw some fireballs as they sprint but it comes out as little more than a tiny spurt which makes him scream in frustration. Why can’t I bend why - He pauses to scoop up two sharp looking sticks that roll around haphazardly in the debris because at least he’s got something in his hands and they run some more-
“Are all your family - murderous pyromaniacs-” Sokka demands, panting, when their feet take them further right to a corner where Azula waits for them with a wide smile, because of course she does. “Why is -your sister- trying to kill you?”
“It runs in the family,” Azula quips at him, “We have a history of hurting each other. Isn’t that right, Zuzu ? Why, he’s even got a mark to show for it.” She covers the left side of her face mockingly.
Sokka looks strangely horrified, but Zuko’s too incensed to wonder why. He whirls around, snarling, because - “That’s a low blow even for you. Why are you doing this? ”
Azula smirks.“Dear Father’s orders.”
She might as well have stabbed Zuko in the heart with Mother’s dao, because it breaks into pieces. “You’re lying!” No. Azula always lies. Azula always lies.
Azula smiles sweetly. “But the last time I told you Father wanted you dead, I was telling the truth, wasn’t I? You didn’t believe me. Look where we are now!”
“I deserved it then,” Zuko says curtly. It hurts, but like an honourable man he will own up to what’s left of his own tattered honour. There’s a strange strangled noise from Zuko’s left where the Water Tribe boy’s standing, but Zuko doesn’t spare him a glance. “What did I do now? I have been nothing but loyal-”
“Oh, but we both know that isn’t true, Blue Spirit .” Azula looks pointedly and the dual sticks in his hands, and her grin widens when Zuko flinches. “Admiral Zhao informed dear Father of our humiliating loss in the siege of the North,” Azula tells him grandly. Their family has always had a flair for the dramatics. “Father knows of your selfishness and disloyalty that caused Fire Nation to fail to capture the Avatar-”
“-No! I wasn’t- I wouldn’t-”
“-and he has decreed death as a fitting punishment.” Amber eyes, both so much like and unlike Mother’s, gleam in anticipation. It makes Zuko want to scream. “And I get to be the executioner!” she sang. “Isn’t this just like the old times?”
“You’re lying!” Zuko feels like he’s grasping at straws. He dearly wishes he had his flame daggers in his hands right then. “Father wouldn’t!”
“Oh, Zuzu,” Azula croons. “You know Father would. You know as well as I do that Father never wanted you. He sent you on a wild chase for a myth for three years, after all-”
“Shut up!” Zuko shouts. He’s never had a good retort to Azula. Just shut - up !”
Azula shrugs. “You’ve always been too fragile and weak to handle the truth, dear brother. Fine.” She blasts a fireball at his feet. It throws him back, hard, into the wall behind him. Zuko gasps for breath, bringing one hand to protect his left and casting out his other senses. The soulbond is going haywire from Sokka’s side, forcing Zuko to pay attention to it. Disbelief and shock and what the FUCK radiates out, what’s that about anyway-
“Leave!” Zuko snaps at the idiot water tribe boy. Isn’t he supposed to be smart?! “Get out of here!”
Sokka sputters. “Uh, hello? Soulbonded?” Oh, right. Zuko forgot about that. “And you call me the idiot?”
“Shut up! It doesn’t matter!” Zuko says a little desperately. Azula’s like Ozai- she doesn’t care about collateral damage. He’s got no real fondness for the water tribe boy, but Azula’s after Zuko, not him, and innocents shouldn’t get caught in the crossfire. Something in the Water Tribe boy’s eyes shift. “You have to get out of here-”
But their bickering is cut short when Zuko catches Azula gesturing in a horrifyingly familiar way that makes shivers go up his spine. She extends two fingers of both hands, circling them in a familiar pattern, and shifts her weight through the motions of her kata.
Her fire is starting to look different. It arches and bends at strange angles, brighter and harsher than anything Azula had made before. Even if Zuko hadn’t been able to feel the gathering static that makes his hair stand on end and the rising scent of ozone in the air, he would have been able to recognise that move anywhere. Because he’s seen exactly one person perform it, the person whose cold gold eyes and even colder voice haunt his dreams until now.
“Get down!”
Acting on the instinct that now comes as naturally as drawing breath into his lungs, or summoning flame to his fingers, Zuko tackles Sokka to the floor, away from the fracturing path of Azula’s attack. Then they’re both running again down Wan Shi Tong’s library or what remains of it, anyway- how big is this place?!
“ Your sister can bend lightning? ” Sokka shouts, his tone bordering on hyperventilation.
“It’s news to me, too!” Zuko shouts back. He darts between them to attempt another jet of fire as Sokka throws his boomerang. Zuko’s flames come out a baby of what it could be, and he lets out a frustrated cry because of it. Zuko and Azula have done this dance before, chasing each other down corridors until Azula decided she was too old to be chased. But the crackling thunder that accompanies lightning is new , and why can’t Zuko bend properly anymore why why why-
“Give up, Zuzu!” Azula sings. “Once I’m done with you-”
That’s when Sokka’s boomerang comes whizzing back like it had all those months ago in that little village Zuko stumbled upon. Really, Zuko might have found it funny if the boomerang had hit its target.
As it is, it very nearly misses Azula, but the thin trail of blood it leaves down her porcelain face sets her off in a fit of rage.
“Okay, now I can really see the family resemblance,” Sokka quips. “Not that it was hard before.”
“You-! Savage peasant! ”
Her fingers draw around it that too-familiar trail again, aiming straight for Sokka.
Aiming for the centre of his chest.
NO!
Zuko doesn’t even think about it as he moves, right in the path of the blue arc.
For a moment there’s nothing. Then every single one of his nerves fire as if they’re each screaming in tandem, or maybe it’s Zuko himself screaming as his body burns from the within like he hasn’t already been dead inside for years, or maybe -
“Zuko!”
Horrified ocean blue eyes is the last thing Zuko remembers, and somehow, it’s enough to soothe the gaping hole that is in his chest.
Chapter 11: Flicker on
Notes:
/drops the chapter and runs/
I'm going to sound like a broken record here, but I do really recommend you listen to the audio for this chapter - fumbles has truly outdone themselves with the sound effects. Go for a walk, listen, and... cry? laugh? Let's find out!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 16:18
chapter 11 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Sokka’s not freaking out.
He’s not. He’s just finding it a little bit hard to breathe and sort through his thoughts right now. Which is perfectly reasonable given that by some miracle of the Avatar and all his past lives, as well as a particularly enraged Spirit Owl, they’ve just escaped the crazy Fire Princess in mostly one piece.
Emphasis on mostly.
Now they’re on Appa’s saddle, en route the rest of the way to the Earth Kingdom. At least Sokka thinks that’s where they’re going- he hasn’t exactly been paying much attention, because the stubborn idiot Fire Prince is actively dying under his hands.
Sokka obviously isn’t an expert, but he’s pretty sure that getting shot at by a million volts of lightning is not healthy for any human. and counterproductive to the interest of staying alive. Of which Zuko seems to subconsciously not want to.
Yeah, okay, Sokka’s freaking out.
Zuko’s always been pale, but his skin is positively colourless now. It starkly contrasts the network of damaged skin that spreads out from the centre of his chest like a starburst. Every so often a shock of electricity courses through the broken frame and his body spasms unwillingly through an horrific dance. Beyond that the firebender is still, barely breathing.
“Sokka,” Katara snaps, as the firebender’s body twitches through another aftershock. “I said hold him still, I need to work!”
Sokka’s hands shake a little, fearful of causing more harm, but presses down anyway. “Is he going to be okay?” he asks, because he needs to know. Katara bites her lip and doesn’t answer, continuing to work grimly on Zuko using the Spirit Water they’d kept from the Oasis.
The soulbond between Sokka and the firebender is going haywire, blaring like one of the North Water Tribe sirens set off. Everytime Zuko’s body spasms he feels the agony echoing from the centre of his own chest, and Sokka has to pause to breathe harshly through it. Each breath is like a cut against a wound.
In this way, Sokka's glad Zuko’s not awake now, because what he can feel through the soulbond is already unbearable. It’s like sticking one’s hand into an open flame, but letting it linger there forever instead of immediately pulling back. The impressions of phantom pain hurts Sokka , so he can’t imagine what it would be like for Zuko to be awake right now.
The thing is, Sokka can’t feel or hear anything from Zuko’s side of the bond. It just feels- cold, dead static. Sokka would have thought he was dead if not for the soulbond between them. Thankfully the bond’s still there speaking- screaming, really, so Sokka knows there’s hope for the firebender yet.
He hopes. He so badly hopes.
“Katara? Is-”
Katara shushes him fiercely as she works, feverishly trying to save the enemy(?) who’d inadvertently saved her brother. It leaves Sokka’s mind to wander.
With features lax in unconsciousness, Zuko looks younger than he ever has. More vulnerable. It’s hard to reconcile the image of this boy, barely older than Sokka, infinitely more damaged, to the shouty prince who spent half of the last year chasing them across the poles.
There had been a moment, back in the library, some seconds Zuko had stepped into that white blinding arc, that the soulbond had gone quiet.
The silence after so much time feeling the underlying thrum of another’s thoughts and emotions tangling with his own had been nothing short of - terrifying . Sokka had grabbed Zuko’s fallen body despite everything in his mind warning him not to come close to the living electrocuted human pole, and then gotten them out of there, all the while praying in his head.
Please, please, please , Sokka chants in his head, Please let this jerkbender live.
He prays to Tui and La and whatever other Spirits there are. He prays to Agni even. He starts to negotiate with the universe. Sokka would give up meat and sarcasm, at least for one day. He would try to be nicer to Zuko. And Momo and Appa. He’d do his share of chores. He’d admit out loud that not all the Spiritual magic nonsense he’s been stuck with since Aang emerged from the ice aren’t nonsense. Fuck it, at least until the game of catch-the-Avatar starts again, Sokka would try his hardest to be nicer to Zuko. Kill him with kindness.
Because the fact is that Zuko’s in this state because he had taken the shot for Sokka. Which makes Sokka feel furious and guilty and horrified and brings a million questions.
His mind flashbacks to the time in the library, right before unnatural lightning struck and the world was blown to bits-
“But the last time I told you Father wanted you dead, I was telling the truth, wasn’t I? You didn’t believe me. Look where we are now,” crazy maniac sister had said.
“I deserved it then,” Zuko had replied.
-
“You know as well as I do that Father never wanted you. He sent you on a wild chase for a myth for three years, after all-”
“Shut up!” Zuko had shouted. Sokka could have told him that was the surefire way to make someone do the opposite of what he wanted, but then he didn’t think Zuko was up for listening. “Just shut - up!”
What the fuck did that all even mean? Why did Zuko look so hopeless and desperate at the same time? Sokka’s enquiring mind wants to know, and he hopes he gets the chance to ask. For now, he shoves his million questions to the back of his mind.
Right now, Sokka would be happy if Zuko lived.
Huh. That’s -- interesting. Sokka hadn’t realised he-cared. Sure, he didn’t particularly like the guy, but-- he didn’t want him to die either.
Cmon, you stubborn jerk. Don’t you die on me now.
Aang keeps glancing back at them every two seconds, like he’d rather be anywhere than Appa flying duty. After what seems like an eternity Katara finally sits back on her haunches. Sokka looks up at her hopefully.
“Is he-”
“I’ve done my best,” she says, shaking her head. The hope in Sokka’s chest crumbles like ice underfoot in the final days of winter. “He’ll have to push through the rest on his own.”
“Well, if we know anything about Zuko, it’s that he never gives up.” Sokka's trying for a confident tone, but the words stick in his throat like a hitherto -undiscovered sea prune pit, and what comes out is more forlorn, like a plea for reassurance.
The water siblings both fall silent, catching their breaths as they stare at Zuko’s still figure for a moment. Sokka found himself tracing the sharp line of Zuko’s jaw, the high cheekbones, the unexpectedly long lashes against closed golden eyes.
Sokka hopes he’ll see them open again.
“He saved your life,” Katara says softly.
“Yeah,” Sokka agreed, throat tight.
“I don’t - understand. Why.”
Sokka shrugs, eyes still fixed on Zuko. “He’s never made sense.”
Cmon, jerkbender. You’re a tough guy, don’t tell me you’re going to keel over this, Sokka tries to jibe, because if there’s anything Zuko will respond to, it’s a challenge.
There’s no response, physical or verbal or even mental, from the other side. Only the soulbond thrumming between them, whispering, pulling him towards Zuko...
The glimmer of blue-gold causes inspiration to strike. “Hey, Katara?” Sokka ventures.“Do you think... the soulbond could do anything right now to help him?”
“...maybe? It did help you both, earlier.” Katara purses her lips. “I… honestly don’t see how it could make it get worse,” she admits.. “He’s really teetering on the brink, Sokka.”
That’s all Sokka needs to give in to the near desperate tugging of the soulbond. He carefully manoeuvres Zuko towards him, bringing their bodies closer. The soulbond’s humming gets stronger as Sokka wraps one arm loosely across the unconscious firebender’s waist. A flare of phantom pain in his own chest makes him wince, and he quickly adjusts Zuko until the flare dims to the background again.
Zuko’s head lolls forward to rest limply against his collarbone. Struck with a sudden flash of care, Sokka gently fixes it with his free hand so that at least his spine is in a straight line. This way, the firebender is essentially in his lap, and it should feel weird, but it... isn’t. In fact, it feels so... right, and good, and warm, and given the guy’s literally saved his life, Sokka thinks he can let this go.
Is it Sokka’s wishful thinking, or does Zuko seem to be breathing easier?
Watching the slow rise and fall of his chest is strangely mesmerising. It’s hypnotic.
It feels like the most natural thing in the world for Sokka to reach out, palms lightly grazing the edges of the network of livid red skin on Zuko’s pale sternum--
“Sokka,” Katara cautions. There’s a note of warning in her voice and she looks like she’s ready to grab his arm, and the only thing that’s stopping her is the desire not to jostle the frail, damaged body between them. “What are you doing ? The wound’s not fully healed, don’t make it worse-”
Sokka shushes her. Asked later he would not be able to explain even to himself his own behaviour , but right then it made perfect sense to just gently move his hand across Zuko’s sternum, right over the centre of the wound-
The soulbond sparks, the network of gold-blue. Sokka’s eyes slip shut.
And he breathes.
All sound fades away, like he’s just stepped into the ocean. There’s a calling, a pull that doesn’t so much demand his attention as it commands it. Sokka couldn’t have fought if he tried. He focuses on where the call guides him to, and lets himself drift. It feels somewhat like swimming, moving heavy limbs across the tide of the endless waters, and the thing about the ocean is that one shouldn't fight against the current because they would always lose against the majestic strength of the sea. Instead, Sokka worked with it, allowing his body to flow with the current rather than against it.
Somewhere far away, he hears a female voice gasp, but he pays it no heed. There is something to find here, something Sokka needed to find and explore and take into gentle hands and care for.
Eyes still closed, he drifts further.
A tiny little flickering flame there. How can a flame be burning in the middle of the ocean? Sokka doesn’t know, but it doesn’t matter, right then. His scientific, cynical brain seems to have faded into the background along with all his other senses. The flame captivated Sokka. Even as it flickered as if it was in danger of being put out against the current, the stubborn little thing kept burning on. Every so often, there are hints of purple, pink, green, colors Sokka couldn’t name - colors that didn’t belong to fire- streaking on its surface.
It’s beautiful, Sokka thinks. Like a little heartbeat.
Sokka reaches out with his other hand. His fingers brush against the warmth of the little flame. He breathes.
The soulbond hums, and for a moment, Sokka feels himself with light.
“Sokka! Look!””
Sokka’s eyes snap open at the sound of Katara’s voice this time. “What?” he asks wildly, snatches his hand away from the centre of Zuko’s chest as if burnt. The soulbond jangles in discordant notes as if in protest, but he’s terrified that he’d done more harm- “What, did I make it worse?”
Katara’s ocean blue eyes, a shade lighter than his own, like Dad’s, are huge. “Sokka,” she says, “You were waterbending.”
***
Zuko’s lightning wound has gone from its livid patchwork of raised and blistering raw skin to a much paler color of a long healed-over wound. It looks better than when Katara had last left him, before Sokka had reached out to caress it.
The firebender hasn’t stirred, but there’s even some color to his cheeks now and Sokka’s chest no longer throbs with the same intermittent agony as it had earlier. The soulbond sings between them, pleased.
Sokka’s exhausted, as if something had drained all his energy. But more importantly, he’s numb from shock.
“That’s impossible,” he insists to Katara again, as if it would change anything. “I’m not a waterbender. I’m not! And I’m definitely not a healer.”
Katara pats him in absent-minded sympathy, but her eyes and hands are working on Zuko, carefully checking him over. “Well,” she concludes finally, “you may not have been a waterbender or healer before, but you definitely did something just now. Zuko’s going to need a lot of rest, but he’s in a much better state. He’s going to make it.”
Sokka sits back as his heart swells in relief. He’d been sure of it already- Zuko’s heartbeat was strong, the soulbond humming much lighter, the other side of the link not quite as static- but to hear it confirmed by the miracle that is his little sister is the best reassurance.
“Spirits,” he mutters, automatically falling back to cursing Zuko and all ashmakers, but realising he… can’t. “Dear Tui and La.”
Katara smiles at him, but it’s both thankful and confused, like she isn’t sure how to process everything that just happened in the span of the last three hours. Sokka sympathises, because he exactly feels the same.
“I’m so glad Zuko’s okay!” Aang is bouncing on the tips of his toes, like he does whenever his feelings are too big for his body. Sokka vaguely wonders if he should worry that Appa’s flying without being steered, then decides that out of all the things that could and have tried to kill them, this would be the least likely. “Thanks to Katara’s magic healing hands- And yours too now, Sokka!”
“How are you taking this so easily?” Sokka demands, his voice coming out less loudly than he’d intended out of sheer fatigue. “My life just changed! Through some freak spirit accident, I can now apparently magically waterbend! And heal people!”
Aang tilts his head and then has the nerve to shrug, like it’s enough of an explanation, like freaky bizarre Spirit shenanigans happen around him all the time. Which, given that he’s the Avatar, it does. Sokka had first class seats as his travel companion, he knows.
“It’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Aang says. “We have an extra healer in the group!”
“I guess,” Katara says. Sokka glances at her. “How are you taking this so easily?” he demands, suspicious. He remembers the jealousy she’d harbored when Aang had mastered waterbending so easily, back before they’d come to the North Pole.
His little sister shrugs as well. “Well, it’s not like we knew anything about the soulbond or its effects,” she says. “After all the stuff at the North pole and how you two reacted when you split apart, I don’t think I can be surprised by anything anymore.”
Sokka huffs, even as he concedes the points. Because clearly it’s the soulbond that’s allowing this to happen. Not Sokka suddenly showing a late aptitude for waterbending. He might have thought it, but his apparent sudden ability to heal blew that assumption right out of the (ha) water. Healing took training. Healing required experience. Sokka just brought a lightning-struck, dying firebender from the brink with the help of Spirit Water, his little sister’s magic hands, and his own self.
How is that even possible? Is his body even wired to channel waterbending? Isn’t there some kind of chi path thing that should be blocking this for him? Sokka’s enquiring mind wants to know and mull it over, but he’s starting to feel drowsy. Katara had said that waterbending and healing took up a lot of energy, and Sokka was not trained for either in the slightest. So when exhaustion amplifies suddenly and hits him like flying straight into Agna Qel'a fortress, he isn’t surprised.
He slumps. “You two should rest,” Aang says, voice fond. “Everything will be okay.” Sokka wants to snipe that hey, I’m the elder brother of the group , but he’s really too tired.
He’ll figure it out later. For now, Sokka welcomes the sweet embrace of sleep.
In his sleepy state, he doesn’t notice his body making the executive decision to move closer to the firebender he’s soulbonded to, until their hands brush together. Zuko’s eyes are closed, but he’s breathing deeply and evenly, nothing like the stuttering rhythm of earlier. Sokka lets the reassuring sight of this drift him to the land of Tui's cousin.
Notes:
THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the lovely, hyperventilating comments from the last chapter! I had some hilarious, lovely, interactions and picked up a new favourite insult (cranberry? XD) This is what separates fics from books- the writer and commenter can laugh cry or eat popcorn together, and your comments may actually change the writer's thought process. Thank you for being so engaging!
I promise more angst, pain and nightmares BUT ALSO hurt comfort and humor in the upcoming chapters! we have halfway to go (and there WILL be a part 2 to this story hehe)
It was so much fun interacting with some of you last week theorizing what might happen, would love to hear more from you :3 should we publish the other version of how this could have gone (i.e. Zuko and Sokka both get incapacitated and captured by Azula/Zhao)? Is that something you're interested to see?
Chapter 12: Falling flames
Notes:
Happy Halloween! And here we are with the nightmare chapter /cackles madly/ >:D
I personally feel DrFumbles did an amazing job with Zuko's voice in this chapter, very sexy hahaha! I greatly encourage you to listen to it :)
Fair warning the angst (and hurt comfort) is about to vamp up in the next couple of chapters, I hope you're ready :D
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 18:18
chapter 12 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
When Zuko was six, some months before he showed his first spark as a firebender, one of his tutors had in a fit of frustration grabbed his small hands and held it over their open flame. Zuko had struggled to break free, but Father’s cold eyes were watching across the courtyard. So Zuko had clamped his mouth shut and not cried out even as the flame burned him, melting the skin around his little finger. He learnt very quickly how to breathe through the pain of the unbearable heat, learnt to deal with the sensation until it became something he could suppress at the back of his mind.
But little Zuko always had to actively work to pull it back to that space. The pain lingered and stabbed when his mind slipped.
This dull throbbing sensation in the middle of his sternum is what current Zuko drowsily wakes up to.
The pain in his chest is not a bad pain, exactly. It’s just that it’s there, refusing to be ignored. He lets out a low moan, and tries to curl in around the sensation. He shifts onto his side, only to meet some kind of resistance. It’s warm and solid and feels inviting like being home , so Zuko sleepily tries to snuggle against it anyway. It shifts a little further away. Frowning, Zuko half opens his eyes.
A blue gaze meets his own. In Zuko’s mind are the slightest impressions: Ocean, orca-wolf, blade...
“Uh, hi…?” the water tribe boy offers, his voice higher than usual.
The rest of Zuko’s brain kicks in and he lets out a sound that is most definitely not a squeak , scrambling back.
“Wh- what-” Zuko stammers, his face feeling like it’s on fire. What in Agni’s name-
To his credit, the water tribe boy manages to keep his face mostly free from colour and emotion. “Calm down, buddy,” Sokka says, his voice quiet and soothing like Zuko’s a fire ferret he’s just spooked. Zuko hates it, because it reminds him of uncle trying to bring him down from a night terror, and he’s not a child Uncle-
“Be careful, Zuko,” a female voice chastises firmly, and only then does Zuko notice Katara frowning at him from their periphery. “Don’t strain your body - you’re still recovering.”
Still recovering?
The images slam into him right then- Azula’s smirk as she taunts him about Father’s final lethal decree. Whatever was left of Zuko’s sorry little heart, breaking further apart. Struggling to produce his own flames. The wide arc of lightning in her graceful hands pointed towards the Water tribe boy, starkly contrasting the wild look of rage in her eyes.
The blinding agony that had radiated from his chest.
His hands move up to his sternum of its own accord. “How…” Zuko whispers to himself. “How am I still… alive?”
He misses the look that passes between the Water Tribe siblings then - a confused and wary sort of protectiveness.
“See, that’s a bit of a story,” the water tribe boy says.
***
‘A bit’ turns out to be an understatement.
It’s one of the rare times in his life, at least according to Uncle, that Zuko listens.
So... Zuko’s had yet another near-death experience. Okay. Nothing new there. At this point he’s gotten into so much trouble he’s honestly surprised he’s still alive.
He pauses where the water tribe boy describes the healing. “You can waterbend . And heal? ”
Sokka shrugs, looking as bewildered as Zuko feels. “I’m just as stupefied as you are.” He gestures towards the shimmering thread of gold-blue between them. “Who knows what else this thing can do.”
Zuko squints at him. “Do you feel any different?” Zuko’s not the most analytical person on the best day, but bending and its finer details have always been an interest to him. Just because he’s not good at something, doesn’t mean he’s not interested in it. Sokka’s body isn’t made to bend, and wouldn't have had the same adaptations as a bender would. What if Spirit-induced unnatural waterbending and healing is causing damage they couldn’t yet see?
The water tribe boy nods, like he’s thought of this before, then blinks. “Huh, that’s actually… kind of sweet...? That you’re thinking about that.”
Zuko’s cheeks flare. “Am not,” he snaps nonsensically, remembering too late their unique little (scary) situation of being privy to each other's mental space. He tries to raise the mental barrier he had earlier back in the library, but it requires the kind of deep meditative focus Zuko has no energy for right now. To his dismay, the barrier splinters apart like mist under the first rays of Agni. Zuko fumbles for a bit. “Stay out of my head!”
The water tribe boy gestures placatingly, something like worry in his eyes, but it can’t be, why would it be? “Okay, okay, calm down,” he coaxes using that same voice.
“And stop talking like that!” Zuko snaps. Azula’s words come back to him. “I’m not a- a fragile child to tiptoe around! Don’t patronise me, I’m not weak! ”
His voice is very loud in the ensuing silence.
“Given that you’ve just literally woken up from the brink of death after being shot at by lightning ,” Sokka says carefully, “that is definitely something we aren’t thinking.”
That’s what he says , but Zuko knows he’s lying. Both water tribe siblings are giving him incredibly similar looks, and it would be one Zuko wouldn’t have known how to read, if not for the soulbond from Sokka’s side practically radiating pity.
“Stop,” Zuko bites out. The whirlwind of everything that just happened and its implications is beginning to catch up to him. He slumps back against the saddle and puts his head in his hands. For a silly moment he wishes they were on the ground instead of flying, so he could at least find some comfort in running his hands through Appa’s soft fur.
For a silly moment, Zuko wishes he’s already dead.
“Zuko?” he hears someone ask tentatively, but he ignores them, bringing his knees up to his chest to curl around himself. Misery rises up like bile in his throat, threatening to burst and drown him in its dark depths.
Father doesn’t want him. Father doesn’t want him.
Father wants Zuko dead.
All of the pieces begin to come together. In some way, Zuko supposes he’s been slowly coming to realise it, the last three years. Maybe even before then, but he’s nothing if not the lord of self-denial. Three years of chasing a myth. Three years of fiercely ignoring the doubts lingering in the back of his mind. The whispers he’s heard from traders at random ports. The way his crew falls silent when he steps into the room on the Wani. Agni, even Uncle’s careful handling takes on a new light now.
Oh, Agni. Zuko can’t go back to Uncle anymore. He’s a walking dead man now, with the Firelord’s painted target over his head. Uncle did not deserve that kind of danger.
Zuko’s... well and truly alone now.
Something thrums in the air. “Sokka, wait,” the girl says, her voice coming out muffled from the inside of Zuko’s cocoon, at the same time as the Water tribe boy starts to say, “Hey, jerkbender-”
“Don’t call me that!” Zuko tries to snarl, but his voice cracks and the self-hatred multiplies. “Just- leave me alone!”
He feels Sokka scooting closer anyway and finally raises his head, trying to breathe out fire as warning. It comes out sputtering and weak and tiny, and great , that’s another thing Zuko seems to have lost.
His flames are dying. He has no title, no crew, no uncle, and father wants him dead -
Sokka’s blue eyes are large and almost kind in a way that makes Zuko want to set the other boy on fire. Because surely he’s pretending like Azula does. The other boy’s thoughts are swirling with emotions that make Zuko dizzy because he can barely handle his own, and he doesn’t need this extra shit -
He flattens himself back, pressing hard against the saddle when Sokka raises a hand. “Don’t touch me.” Zuko’s breathing comes out harsh and unforgiving, like Father, nothing less than Zuko deserves.
“But- it -it might help you feel better,” the Water tribe boy says, looking both embarrassed and determined at the same time. “You can feel it, can’t you?”
Zuko shakes his head. He knows what Sokka’s talking about, knows the soulbond is calling, tugging him to his soul-bonded, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t need a bond to help him feel better. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s weak, worthless and pathetic as it is. “ Do not touch me,” Zuko repeats.
It’s a demand, so why does his voice come out like a plea?
Sokka looks truly lost, shooting a helpless gaze across at his sister who seems to be trying to say something with her eyes. Zuko feels the sharp pang of resentment - he and Azula will never have this kind of relationship, never were destined to.
“Zuko,” Katara says, “you’re still very weak-”
“I’m not! ” Zuko’s thoughts are fracturing into splinters, the way Azula’s lightning did, and he’s so exhausted and losing thread of all sense and logic and he just wants it all to end. “Just go away, leave me alone, leave me alone,” he finally begs. And wouldn’t Father absolutely detest the sight of him now?
Sokka sighs, but thank Agni and all his sisters and brothers he doesn’t come any closer. Zuko curls around himself again, thoughts going everywhere and nowhere at once. He drifts in that space for a while, allowing himself to drown. doesn’t know what he’s going to do next, he doesn’t even know if he wants to do anything next. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to curl up here and just-
-just-
Stop-
He falls into the welcome embrace of oblivion, before he can complete that thought.
***
Zuko’s been here before. He knows how this ends, because it never does.
In Zuko’s dreams, he burns for eternity.
The brief hope that Father’s almost-tender cradling of his face would bring some tenderness and comfort dies a fiery death, like the skin of his face. Like his left eye. And Zuko’s senses are quickly eclipsed by excruciating pain.
He screams.
Everything’s searing hot, and he can feel the skin of his face melting away. He chokes on smoke and the smell of burnt flesh. He blacks out for just a second from the sheer agony and when he wakes up Father is still burning him. He curls in, trying to escape those punishing, cruel hands, but Father is unrelenting like the fire eating hungrily away at his skin. Zuko begs for mercy and for help, even as he knows none is coming. Who would be foolish enough to help him? Zuko’s always been alone, since Mother left. And Father is the FireLord, everything he does is righteous and just-
“I meant no disrespect- please Father, I meant no disrespect,” Zuko repeats weakly, over and over again, until his voice fades to a rasp and whispers out like a flickering flame. But Father doesn’t hear him, doesn’t acknowledge his pleading litany, doesn’t let him go. Father never forgives.
And Zuko continues to burn, and he burns alone.
Please Father-
Make the pain stop, make it stop-
Let me die-
“No, nephew, I cannot do that.”
Zuko’s sobbing now, gripping his mauled face as they sit within a familiar, metallic walled room.
“Take me home, Uncle,” dream-Zuko rages and whimpers, even as he knows he can’t. “I want to go home.”
“I’m so sorry, my nephew,” Uncle says sorrowfully. “I cannot.”
“Take me home,” he demands, but it comes out more a plea.
“You know as well as I do that to set foot in Caldera is your death sentence- nephew!”
Zuko staggers to his feet, even as his frame tries to shrink in on itself, even as the room swims and he loses his balance
“Then I will find my way home,” Zuko vows, through a haze of pain and shame. “I will find the Avatar and make Father proud.”
Uncle’s kind, worried eyes morph from its familiar amber to a colder gold, and it’s Father again, Father and that burning stage.
“You have shamed me with your cowardice, boy. Pain will correct your disrespect and suffering will be your teacher.”
That large hand cradles his face again, tenderness morphing to cruelty.
This is the cycle that will never end. This is where he always comes back to. This is where Zuko always burns.
And he burns.
And Zuko howls.
“Zuko!”
Hands settle on his shoulder in a punishing grip and wrenches him away from Father’s burning hands. Zuko cries out- who in Agni’s name would be stupid enough to get in Father’s way?- but these hands are cool and they don’t burn and-
“C’mon, jerkbender, it’s just a fucking dream. Wake up. Wake up, that’s all you’ve got to do!”
Zuko gasps, because when he looks up it’s into an ocean blue set of eyes that are so out of place in the sea of gold and crimson that his mind just -breaks.
‘Why are you here?’ Zuko gasps wretchedly, reeling and confused beneath the onslaught of his painpainpain everywhere. ‘You weren’t at the Agni Kai- You weren’t there, so why are you here ?’
His breathing seemed to be coming from somewhere far away, and he can feel the hollow ache of his straining ribs as Sokka’s fingers continue to dig into his shoulders. It’s startlingly, horrifyingly real, and Zuko can feel the fear turning to panic as his heart picks up speed.
“I'm here because of the fucking bond,' Sokka snaps, a voice of reason amidst the confusion and pain that hisses in Zuko’s mind. 'Open your Spirit’s-damned eyes and wake up!”
The last bit is a shout, loud and harsh like dao blades slicing through flesh. Father’s shadow, the stage, the faceless nobility all disintegrate, and -
Zuko sits bolt upright in Appa’s saddle, retching as his body shudders. His phoenix tail falls in wild strands around his face and he runs his hand through them, tugging hard, trying to fix himself into reality. Ice suffuses his overheating body and nausea clenches in his stomach as he tries to understand.
His whole body shudders in a stop-start pattern, as if trying to remember how to move again. The new scar tissue at the centre of his chest isn’t helping him breathe any easier. Trembling hands clench into desperate fists as Zuko’s mind brings back the image of grim blue eyes - the color so out of place in his dreams of crimson and red and gold. His emotions veer from weakening fear and excruciating agony to the hot, hard and far more welcome snap of anger.
Zuko’s not so stupid that he’s about to put the Water Tribe boy’s presence in his dream down to a figment of his imagination.
Sokka’s breathing hard too, he registers dimly. The Agni-damned bond clearly pervades everywhere, even into the darkest, most private depths of Zuko’s mind, and there Sokka followed him, without a second thought.
Zuko feels - violated, and the humiliation adds a rotten flavour to the residue of pain and fear from his nightmare.
Even in the chaos of his mind, he’s aware of the gold-blue thread of the bond between them, shining bright like a stray ray of Agni. Even in the climbing rage, he feels the utterly bizarre urge to follow its hypnotic tug to where the boy in question is sitting, promising comfort and warmth.
Like fuck is he going to follow that urge.
Aang’s worried voice slices through the healing gasps that fill the night air. “What happened? Are you two okay?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Sokka shakes his head and reaches a hand out, and Zuko absolutely does not jerk back. “Zuko, that -”
“What the fuck were you doing in my dream?!” Zuko snarls, wishing fire could spit out from his lips, deep and feral at the wide blue eyes across him. His flaming wrath makes Sokka flinch - good. The water tribe peasant has already seen him more vulnerable than ever before – mutilated by his Father, splayed open by his own weakness – there’s no way he’s going to allow the rest of them to see the turbulence of the aftermath.
It’s easier to be angry, because rage is where Zuko best draws his strength. Without rage he has nothing- not his honor, not his will, not even all of his face.
“I didn’t want to end up in your stupid dream! I didn’t want to see that twisted shit!” Sokka snaps right back, the words stoking the flames of Zuko’s rage so high he’s certain he feels himself steaming. Good. This rage is familiar. “It's just where I ended up when I fell asleep!”
“Isn’t that so convenient?! ” Zuko demands, spitting the words out. The Water Tribe boy’s not acting even the slightest bit ashamed or apologetic for such a brutal invasion of Zuko’s privacy, and it melds the shame and anger together into something white-hot inside him. “You have absolutely no right ! Why the fuck didn't you just turn around and get out the moment you realised?”
'I tried but I couldn’t! It was your stupid fucking dream and you were in control of it!' Sokka shakes his head, wolf-tail whipping around his face as he hunches his shoulders: defensive but volatile. “I couldn't wake up unless you did. What are you blaming me for? You think I want to see that fucked up shit with your Father?! On that note, are all your family insane murderous pyromaniacs, huh!? Do they all get taught that it’s okay to burn each other-”
“Shut UP!” Zuko roars amid gasps from the other two with them. His vaunted control is shattered, too damaged by the nightmare to be of any use. His face burns in shame, but fury fuels him and drives him to his feet, even to his own slight amazement at how he manages it, because every limb is shaking- “You have no right- no right to speak of that- like this-”
To Zuko’s horror, his voice cracks, and what began as a rage tirade turns into a sob.
Notes:
Finally... the NIGHTMARE chapter. Just in time for Halloween!
The response to the last two chapters have been amazing, and incredibly motivating, thank you so much! T^T
This was one of my FAVOURITE CHAPTERS to write and one of the ones I was looking forward to sharing the most. Hope you enjoyed it and as always we welcome comments and interaction! Please feed a starved author and podficcer :3Also PS we are aware sokka is acting high strung and emotional, he’s just woken up from a bizzare nightmare he wanted no part in and he’s being yelled at, and Zuko’s unstable emotions are looping on and feeding him. We will explore more in the next chapter! Please tell us what you think 😆
Chapter 13: The Storm He Weathers
Summary:
The aftermath of Sokka's insight to Zuko's nightmare.
Notes:
We LOVED your responses in the last chapter, all the theory about why zuko's firebending is lost and sokka can waterbend, all the 'SOKKA HAS SEEN' reactions and all the 'want to give zuko a hug/ reactions :3 this chapter is mostly Sokka POV, we hope it fills that hunger!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 17:49
chapter 13 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Okay, Sokka's got a confession. Something only Katara knows and as a sister has full rights to make fun of, but only she and no one else does.
The truth is, younger Sokka, for all his sharp wit, cynical world view and sarcasm, has a squishy and soft heart. The kind that saved ottercats from drowning and tried to sneak them into the igloo to keep as a pet. The kind that made friends with tiny cuddly little sabre tooth mouselions and called them Foo Foo.
But part of growing up means he’s had to tamp that all the way down. Somewhere between watching his mother’s still body being returned to the sea and being left the lone man at the pier with too much responsibility for his slight shoulders to bear, Sokka had to lose that part of himself. It’s hard to remain soft in a harsh winter world that demands wariness and cynicism, when his village needs to eat so cute cuddly eyes become meat- just another source of survival. survival.
And that continued even after Aang dropped into his world and made it that much bigger. In their little family of three, between Aang’s unrelenting desire to chase after all butterflies and anything and everything that shines even slightly, and Katara’s whole “never turn my back on people who need me” agenda, someone’s got to be the rational one.
(Thinking about it, the boy petting foxes in the library with a gentle look in his golden eyes must have had to lose his softness too. It really is a pity, how war changes them all.)
So Sokka’s now a little rough around the edges, sure, but he’s not heartless . And Sokka challenges anyone at all to hear the absolute miasma of self-loathing, loneliness and despair Zuko had swirling in his head right before he’d gone to sleep, and still been able to keep up a cold face.
Sokka had wanted so badly to help, whether that meant only talking to straight out hugging the firebender, but Zuko had been vibrating with tension that Sokka’s sure he would have hyperventilated right out of his skin if Sokka had pushed ahead.
He’d left Zuko alone, as he wished, to sleep and slipped into a restless one of his own. And then been abruptly pulled into a fucking too-hot nightmare of agony and flame, a nightmare that Sokka’s starting to discover is Zuko’s actual world.
(Also, another new discovery: apparently the prince of the Fire Nation can usually fucking breathe fire out of his throat, which is quite the discomfiting revelation both in the sense that it’s kind of terrifying and kind of hot.
Sokka’s going to pretend he didn’t just have that thought.)
Right now, attraction is second to the negative emotions churning through Sokka. The little jets of shame wildly bursting out of Zuko as he rages makes the dual forces of trauma-induced fear and protective anger rise in Sokka’s throat. The defender instinct that’s been conditioned to fear fire wants to run away, to take Katara and Aang and shield them from it. In direct contrast, his wolf-fighter instinct wants to strike down in defiance of the source of the flames exploding like fireworks across him.
Sokka two moons ago wouldn’t have hesitated.
Sokka two moons ago didn’t see what current Sokka just saw: the screaming, burning, terrified child this raging, flaming, terrifying enemy in front of him once was.
Sokka two moons ago hadn’t been saved by the angry prince jerkbender with a ponytail.
So current Sokka clamps down on his instincts of flight-or-more-likely fight, takes a deep breath, and decides to let go.
Enough time in prince jerkbender’s dumb head has given Sokka enough insight to understand that Zuko automatically falls back to lashing out with anger when he’s scared or disoriented. And it’s clear from the wildness in those golden eyes that he’s still not entirely with them at that moment.
Zuko’s rage dissipates into a sob and that miasma of self-loathing wells up again through the soulbond, all Sokka’s own disorientation and rage from the dream dissipates. He lets out a sigh that manifests as a mist into the cold night air.
“Look, Prince Jerkbend- Zuko. Can we… not do this?” Sokka asks, holding one hand out in a half-hearted entreaty. He takes an experimental step forward. Far from relaxing, the fire prince’s posture tenses even further, to the point that Sokka has the irrational worry that his spine is going to snap.
“S-stay away,” Zuko warns. “Don’t come any closer.” His own hands rise in ready offense. Somehow, despite the display of power, it feels like Sokka’s the threat.
A memory drifts in, one that isn’t his own, a shadowed figure with rising hands of fire, and Sokka’s forcibly reminded that open palms aren’t a sign of peace to a firebender. Stifling a shudder, Sokka lowers his hand, trying to convey an open, loose posture instead.
I’m not going to hurt you, he thinks forcefully at the other boy. Probably counterproductive, but hey, Sokka’s trying at least.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” he tries again. “I really didn’t mean to see your - your dream. I couldn’t control it.”
Sokka’s ego is screaming at him for apologising to Zuko, for something that is not in Sokka’s control, no less and therefore not his fault. But he gives it a firm shove and tells it to get moving. He can totally be the mature one here, he’s had lots of practice with Katara.
Eclipsing his ego is the far stronger urge to comfort and protect his soul-bonded, after that nightmare. While Sokka feels icky at the sentiment, his inner Katara does feel that Zuko deserves a teensy bit of kindness.
He’s trying to channel inner Katara’s empathy, which is hard because this is the enemy who’s chased them all halfway across the globe… but also not as hard as he’d expect.
In that dream, younger Zuko had screamed and cried for mercy, for kindness no one had given him until it was too late-
Sokka’s starting to think there’s a lot more to this story than an angry entitled ponytail freak shouting endlessly about finding honour. And together with their whole Azula face-off, he’s not sure he likes the picture it’s painting.
Zuko lets out a shuddering breath. Sokka notices how he’s still breathing jaggedly, like his body is struggling to remember how, and he can’t help it-his heart goes out to him. Zuko looks like one of the ottercats that had sometimes wound up tangled in his fishing net when he went out hunting, and needed to be set free. It hurts to watch, and something in him badly wants to wrap his arms around the firebender and just soothe him until he calms down.
It’s the bond, just the bond, Sokka tells himself.
Frankly, though? Sokka’s sure any human with a heart that’s even a quarter of the piece of shit Zuko apparently has for a father would agree with his sentiments at that moment.
“Hey,” Sokka keeps his voice light, remembering earlier. “Can I touch you?”
Zuko blinks.
Okay, that sounded weird. Sokka's face heats up. Now Zuko looks distressed and suspicious all at once, pressing his back against Appa’s saddle as though he’s quite ready and willing to jump over to a thousand feet death at a moment’s notice, and would in fact prefer to. “No, sorry, that didn’t come out right. I, um, can I come closer? The soulbound,” he says, hoping it’s enough explanation.
“Sokka, I can-” Katara starts, but Sokka shushes her with a look. Bad enough that they’re trapped in this very small space for something so private. If Sokka’s the one in Zuko’s shoes right now, he doesn’t think he’d be happy with an audience either.
For all that he’s embarrassed, he’s sure Zuko feels ten times worse. So Sokka steels himself and meets the golden gaze steadfastly, trying to convey the same comfort and trust they’d woke up to earlier. “C’mon,” he coaxes. “You can feel it too, right? The bond tugging? Think it helps, kinda.”
He can literally hear it, Zuko wanting to retort that he doesn’t need or want help. Sees it in the way he braces on his feet against Appa’s saddle.
C’mon, please for once in your life don’t be so stubborn, jerkbender, Sokka pleads in his mind like the hypocrite he is. Complete with the mental equivalent of puppy-dog eyes. The bond pulses between them, tugging, coaxing and strong. Promising safety and comfort and even a touch of endearment (which absolutely is for practical purposes from Sokka, and nothing else, nope.)
“You saved my life,” Sokka tries, struck by sudden inspiration. “Think of this as, uh, me repaying back a debt of honor?”
Sokka sees the exact moment the firebender deflates and cheers inwardly. I’ve still got it! His best weapon will always be his words.
“I’m going to come closer, okay?” he says, as clearly as he can. “I’m going to touch your right shoulder.” Zuko tenses when he steps closer but otherwise does nothing. “Please don’t torch me,” Sokka tries to joke. “No Sokka-flakes on the menu today- I come in peace.”
The firebender shoots him a glare, but it’s a weak thing, and Sokka knows why. The bond is buzzing, becoming stronger with each step. When his fingers graze the white cloth of Zuko’s shoulder, an immediate sense of relief follows it. Both boys exhale as that ever -present undercurrent itching, buzzing sensation fades to nothing.
Instead Sokka’s increasingly aware of a comfortable, content glow trying to spread through his stomach. Like slipping into a hot bath after a long hunt in the biting cold, tense muscles relax, and his nerves, roiling close to the surface only a minute ago, begin to settle with every breath he takes.
“This is a disaster,” Zuko whispers.
“Yeah,” Sokka agrees. His fingers curl into Zuko’s frame anyway. Moving slowly so as to not startle the tense, trigger-happy firebender, Sokka carefully wraps his other arm around Zuko’s still-shaking frame until in effect he has a lapful of royal firebender in a tight embrace.
What is Sokka’s life even, since the Avatar dropped into it and made it bigger.
There’s a moment of stillness, Zuko stubbornly holding back from what they both know the bond urges them to do. It lasts all of two second until Zuko just- crumbles. Fold in on himself like parchment, like an igloo without enough bricks. The protecting and protective warmth expands around them like a little bubble, easing the tension in the shivering frame. Sokka tucks the phoneix tail back, feeling Zuko’s temple press against his shoulder, and just marvels at the feeling of utter rightness swelling in his chest.
It should be so wrong but it feels so right. It really felt good, to have Zuko this close.
Behind them there’s a cough and some whispering, but Katara and Aang don’t say anything further. Sokka finds himself grateful for their trust - there’s a conversation he needs to have with Zuko, and whatever he feels towards his hitherto-enemy-now-soul-bonded-and-other-parts- unknown, his nightmares were his own business, and Sokka would respect that.
You’ve seen some serious shit, haven’t you? He thinks at the firebender, trying to infuse as much understanding and openness as he can into the voice.
“Hey,” Sokka clears his throat. The words are kind of dragging out, so he tries again. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I really didn’t mean to see your - your dream. I couldn’t control it.”
He swallows as he forces himself to look and meet that golden gaze head-on, even as something decidedly pleasant and warm churns in his stomach.
“I-” Zuko’s voice is a rasp that makes Sokka wince, because he now understands that the prince had at one point in the past screamed his throat raw. “I accept your apology.”
Sokka firmly stamps down on the voice that wants to snipe it’s not my fault, I couldn’t control it anyway! No, bad ego, shoo, go hunt somewhere else.
Zuko’s lips twitch despite his tension, and that’s enough of a cue for Sokka to immediately steer his thoughts elsewhere.
He’s startled to realise that he’s -pleased, that he managed to amuse the firebender enough to crack a smile despite Zuko’s current state of distress. Zuko’s smile is a small thing, slightly self-deprecating and sad and startlingly sweet, and okay that’s a dangerous line of thinking to ruminate on, so Sokka does the wise thing and just… doesn’t. That seems to be Zuko’s standard approach to horrifying truths anyway. Not that he’s considered wise by any count...
“I- what?” Zuko’s eyebrow -singular, Sokka notes sadly, anger churning in his gut, how did he not question it before- does something complicated, and settles on a scowl. “Did you just-? Apologies don’t mean anything if you’re going to insult the person right after, peasant.”
The insult is warm, almost fond, even. Sokka lets it pass.
“It doesn’t count if it’s in my own head!” Sokka protests.
“It does!” Zuko scowls.
“Does not!”
Katara decides to step in before Sokka can continue to prove his superior prowess at high quality bickering. Always a spoilsport, that one. “Um, sorry to interrupt your…” she eyes them for a moment, clearly wondering what to call it.
“-bonding,” Aang supplies cheerful, his eyes genuinely fond.
“-bonding,” Katara agrees, smirking at Sokka and Zuko both. Sokka feels like he’s dying. “But I think we kind of need to understand what happened.”
She’s watching Zuko warily, still with that fierce edge in her eyes that reminds Sokka his little sister isn’t to be messed with. But what used to be outright hostility is now wary concern.
Zuko’s tense again, and Sokka automatically gives him a gentle squeeze, hoping it’ll comfort the other boy. He can feel the firebender relaxing just a smidgeon, and marvels at the rush of power it brings.
Of course, jerkbenders will be jerkbenders, and soft, pliant, hurt Zuko is still capable of being an asshole.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Zuko snaps. Katara raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
“You don’t,” she agrees levelly. “But listen, Prince Zuko,” Katara’s tone makes it clear that the term of honour isn’t from respect. Zuko flinches and tries to pull away, but Sokka tightens his hold. “It wasn’t too long ago you were chasing us down like animals. I do have a right to know if I can trust you not to hurt us, given that you are quite literally cuddling my brother,” she emphasises, making both Sokka and Zuko flush.
“-I don’t want to do it-”
“-it’s the bond, Katara-”
“-I don’t care,” Katara says to both of them. She turns a firm gaze on Zuko.“ “Honestly, so far you’ve come across more decent than I thought you were and you saved my brother’s life back in the library, so I’m willing to hear you out.”
“I don’t owe you my life story!” Zuko shouts- or rather, he tries to. It just comes out weak, a patch of sun trying to be what isn’t there, and something in Katara’s hard eyes loses its tough edge.
“Why were you always so desperate to capture Aang?” she asks instead.
To be honest, Sokka wants to know this too, wants to have his suspicions confirmed, and he watches in trepidation as Zuko struggles to decide. Almost subconsciously, he soothes his hand down the firebender’s shoulder blade. The bond sings in pleasure between them, a comforting warmth.
Zuko sighs and closes his eyes. In a dead tone Sokka wouldn’t have believed the fire prince who had hurt all their ears for the last six months would have been capable of, he begins to tell them a story.
***
Katara cries.
Sokka doesn’t, but maybe the wind was making his eyes tear up a little.
Aang cries even more, and becomes an extra, not-soulbonded limpet around Zuko’s chest.
***
Zuko’s so very confused.
“We’re enemies,” he insists, trying to push the Avatar away.
Aang is the most serious Zuko has seen him outside of conflict, which makes the next words more nonsensical. “No we’re not! I refuse your enemyship.”
Zuko stares. Looks a little desperately at Sokka for help.
He gets a shrug and a commiserating pat instead.
The entire team Avatar is in varying degrees of shock and/or anger around him, which is nothing new. What’s new is that it’s not directed at Zuko, more on behalf of him.
Zuko doesn’t understand it. He’s so confused. Thoughts swirl around his head, a million pieces that don’t fit together, and Zuko has no idea what he’s going to do next, or who he’s going to turn to. Only that right now, his chest hurts both in the good and bad way, and the warm presence of the water tribe boy is giving him comfort he hasn’t felt since he was ten before Mother left.
Zuko’s tired of fighting it off. He doesn’t have many nice, comforting feeling things left in his life. Even Uncle , who had been absent earlier in Zuko’s life but had become Zuko’s safe space in the last three years, is someone he can’t come back to now.
Is it so bad for him to enjoy any nice things he can? Just for now?
Please, Agni. Just… Please let me have this.
Notes:
Basically, Sokka's straight up decided to adopt Zuko, but Zuko doesn't quite understand this yet... and of course, I'm not going to make it easy for them as we run into a (lightning wielding wall) in the next chapter(s) >:D /runs hands gleefully/
Sokka: /quietly kidnaps all the royals/
Aang: /clings like a limpet/
Zuko: /mildly confused because he's never quite understood the very real concept of being loved/Hope this fulfilled your expectations! and i'm sorry in advance for what's coming XD
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Chapter 14: Your Lovely Firelight
Notes:
Chapter title from Edna St Vincent Millay’s poem:
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 22:51
chapter 14 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Sokka’s got a problem.
See, Sokka’s the plan guy. He’s always been the plan guy. He likes problems, because he can plan around problems. Problems are fun puzzles to solve, and they give him purpose.
Now that Sokka’s pretty much decided to straight up adopt Zuko into their little group, Zuko is a problem.
Zuko is a Problem, because Sokka is invested , and his innate curiosity makes him naturally prone to poking things that should not be poked, including but not limited to banished, misguided and confused firebending princes.
Everything in Sokka demands Zuko be the villain, to fit in this little narrative he’s been fed all his life, the little narrative he’s crafted for himself, but -- Sokka’s a man of logic and rational science. And all the evidence just doesn’t hold up.
Fragments of the last few days since they left the North Pole filter in his mind.
The stiff, formal apology the Prince of Fire Nation had given once he heard of the loss that haunts their family.
Conflicted golden eyes apologising at Sokka’s phantom pain, a poor imitation of his own screaming agony.
Zuko’s little smile as he cradles an even littler fox spirit in his hands, something almost sweet in his gaze.
The way he’d, without a second thought, stepped into the path of spirits-damned lightning, just because Sokka was an innocent collateral in the fight between him and Azula.
Yeah, if Sokka’s honest with himself, Zuko hasn’t been a bad bad guy for a while. A jerk, absolutely, a hothead awkward mess with no self-preservation instincts whatsoever, yes.There's gotta be a guy worth being friends with in there somewhere. He just needs a little work.
Sokka thinks back to their every interaction, seeing them with a new lens. How Zuko had always seemed so desperate, so determined to the point of absolute zero self preservation. How he’d intentionally or not, never taken the same path of cruelty and chaos as expected of other Fire Nation soldiers, his single minded focus being the one and only Avatar and honor .
Did he ever realise that all that talk about honor was actually misnamed as love?
Curse Sokka’s soft heart, but he knows he’s a goner.
As the hours drag on, Zuko becomes silent as a shadow, nothing like his previous shouty self. This is great news for their collective eardrums, but not so great for Sokka’s heartstrings. He knows he’s not the only one.
Since the revelation, their group’s collective sentiment of ‘avoid the fire prince at all odds and make a fool out of him’ has swung completely the other way to ‘yup, we’re keeping him.’ It’s almost hilarious to watch the suspicion-turning-into-slightly baffled look Zuko gets when he’s treated with any amount of decency, but it also makes Sokka want to punch something. Preferably a Jerklord by the name of Ozai.
Aang keeps trying to talk to Zuko, drawing him into random conversations that the prince doesn’t grace with any form of reply both shouty and not. Katara frets over his lightning injury and keeps trying to feed him.
“Here,” Katara shoves a bowl of seal jerky at Zuko. Sokka doesn’t even pout that the bowl is fuller than his own, for once, even if seal jerky is his most favourite thing in the world.
Zuko’s learnt by now to just accept the bowl, but he barely takes a few bites before quietly placing it down. Katara frowns, protective and healer instincts converging together to create one magnificent tsunami wave that Sokka would not want to be at the end of. He’s pretty sure his sister’s decided to expand their family by an extra (golden-eyed, bad-tempered, firebending) head when no one was looking. Sokka... doesn’t mind. Agrees with it, really.
Now how do they get Zuko on board?
It’s hard to watch the angry prince move like a ghost in the cramped space that is their saddle. Because Sokka doesn’t need a soulbond to tell him that Zuko’s still in shock, unable to come to terms with the fact that his own asshole of a father wants him dead.
He doesn’t think Zuko’s realised yet that all this time he’s been shouting about regaining his honor, what he’s really chasing is something much simpler, something every child should have the natural right to.
So Sokka sits back for a bit to observe, and tries to plan.
Watching Aang’s face fall after another unsuccessful attempt at trying to talk to Zuko, followed by Katara trying to talk him into sleeping, is the last straw. Sokka decides, enough is enough. He’s the plan guy, but some plans boil down to just facing the obstacle head on.
He goes across Zuko, the soulbond thrumming happily as it does everytime they get close. It’s become familiar and comforting, and Sokka’s just not going to think about that too hard.
***
Zuko is on the warpath. This time, his enemy is sleep, and his ally is silence.
“Zuko, you need to rest,” Katara keeps insisting. “Your body’s still recovering from the lightning shock, you need as much rest as you can get.”
Zuko gazes at her without replying. His mind feels slow and hazy. It’s been like this since waking up from his nightmare with a lightning wound in his chest and Father’s death warrant in Azula’s voice crooning in his ears. Vaguely, Zuko wonders if he’s in a prolonged state of shock, like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over his inner flame, and what’s left is a sputtering mess.
It’s hard to come to terms with the reality that after all this time of yearning and studying and chasing, he no longer has a ticket home. Not even the Avatar would bring Zuko home, now.
This isn’t the first time he’s shut down like this. Uncle had been really worried, the first few days after the scar became a permanent mark of Zuko’s lack of honor, that it had also somehow affected Zuko’s vocal chords. It hadn’t, of course - Zuko grew back into learning to use his voice and his lungs to shout at his men- but it had given Uncle quite the scare.
In any case, slipping back into this dissociative state is too familiar and almost too easy, like donning old armor, like a drug. Zuko knows he should be a little concerned that he’s falling back into this oblivion, but then silence isn’t necessarily bad. Years of battling words with Azula (and always, always failing) has taught Zuko that if he says nothing, it can’t be used against him.
That’s not a very fair thought, though, because while Katara and Azula share some traits - both powerful little sisters, formidable and fiercely competent in any pursuit once they’ve made up their mind - the blue eyes hold a certain form of compassion in them that amber eyes never had.
From the edge of his consciousness he can feel a stronger thrum indicating Sokka’s moving closer, but he ignores it. “Please just try to lie down,” Katara’s saying. “We’re really worried about you.”
Why, Zuko almost asks, because he doesn’t really care. Zuko doesn’t understand this, the concern these people are showing, and it makes him jumpy. Surely there’s something behind all of this, a trick that’s going to come up and bite him. He’s just waiting for it to come to light.
“You know we won’t try to hurt you, right?” Sokka adds as he comes closer. “You literally saved my life, whether you meant to or not, and we didn’t just bring you back from the brink of death to have you die from lack of rest.”
And the thing is, Zuko knows. But he doesn’t understand. How can these people who are meant to be his enemies (no, he doesn’t care what Aang says about enemyship being two-way, it doesn’t work like that) who he’s doggedly chased halfway across the world- treat him so… kindly? Zuko doesn’t even think Ozai’s treated him this kindly-
The water tribe boy makes a wounded noise from where he’s sat across from Zuko, and Zuko’s breath seizes. How can he be so stupid, what if Sokka heard all of that, what if he -
“Dude, calm down,” Sokka says aloud, but his voice and eyes are soft in a way that makes Zuko extremely uncomfortable, and he scuffles back into the saddle. “I’m not going to use anything against you, okay? It sucks to be stuck like this, and we can’t control what we see or hear, but I can at least try to pretend I don’t see what I’m not meant to see. ”
Katara’s watching their interaction in an odd mix of amusement and wariness. Her manner has been somewhat different since Zuko’s nightmare, which Zuko detests with every fibre of his being but can’t do anything about.
“It’s got to be hard for both of you,” Katara says sympathetically in a way that makes him want to crawl out of his skin. “I’d hate for someone to be able to hear and see my thoughts.”
Horrifyingly, Zuko’s one remaining tear duct almost waters at the empathy and he turns his gaze away, not wanting them to see. It’s a lost cause with Sokka, who can feel all of Zuko’s emotions through the stupid soulbond, but he can at least preserve his dignity with the others.
He misses the hopeful glance Katara trades with Sokka, encouraged at more of a reaction from Zuko than they’ve had in a while.
“Hey, Katara, I think Aang needs some help with steering Appa. Why don’t you go help him,” Sokka suggests, in a wildly transparent attempt at getting them time alone. Zuko is immediately alarmed, and swings his gaze back in time to see Katara shooting her brother a look that is equal parts exasperated and amused as she gets up.
“Please try to get him to sleep, he’s going to keel over,” Zuko hears her whisper to Sokka, which makes him bristle. He wants to snap at her not to talk about him as if he isn’t right here , but then he hasn’t really given her much indication that he’s not just a walking vegetable.
“So,” Sokka says casually. “What’s your favourite vegetable?”
What.
Zuko stares, something of the haze slipping away. He doesn’t know if it’s the soulbound or if it’s Sokka’s bizarre approach, but either way he’s astonished to find that his heartbeat is less loud in his ears, and the submerged quality of the world seems to recede. Uncle would be happy if he knew that they’d finally found something that works to pull Zuko out of his dissociative state, but Zuko isn’t happy that it involves the enemy,
Sokka waits patiently, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to ask. “I’m not too fond of them- I’m a meat and sarcasm kinda guy, see? But I don’t mind pickled seaweed if it’s on the table. Special delicacy of the south.”
That sounds absolutely horrible , Zuko thinks. Sokka beams so brightly that it hurts to look at.
“There you are,” the water tribe boy murmurs. “That’s the jerkbender I know.”
Stop calling me that.
“Make me.” Sokka waggles his eyebrows, and though the words are a challenge, the gesture is teasing, even fond. It makes Zuko feel almost warm, like some of the ice shock he’s been in is beginning to thaw. Sokka frowns for a moment, his eyes narrowing in focus, and Zuko jumps when the next part of their conversation reverberates not through the air but through Zuko’s mind. Do you prefer to talk this way for now, then?
Zuko blinks. He doesn’t understand.
“If you prefer me to stay out of your head, we can just talk like this,” Sokka says out loud. Or like this , the next part of the words echo in their mental space again.
...Why… are you asking me?
“Dude, you literally saved my life.” Sokka says. “The least I can do is make sure I don’t make you uncomfortable, yeah? I’m just trying to... to show you some respect-”
Respect. Fresh from the nightmare and dogged by fatigue, the very word makes Zuko flinch and then he wants to die of shame. Sokka sees it, probably feels it too, and his mouth tightens.
“Shit, sorry- I-”
It’s fine, Zuko forces out mentally. It is not fine, not in the slightest. He hates that Sokka knows, hates that the knowledge of what happened had been forced out of Zuko’s hand into the hands of someone who had no right to know. It’s not fair that Zuko didn’t get to choose who is privy to the memory of his greatest shame, father’s disappointment in him. But then, life has never been fair, it just is.
Sokka lets out a sigh, and the other end of their soulbond floods with something like determination. “I can’t take this anymore.”
***
“Zuko. You know your father’s wrong, right?”
Not the most eloquent Sokka’s been, but well. Whatever. Zuko hasn’t been eloquent the past two days, Sokka thinks, he doesn’t get to judge.
Zuko’s golden eyes, somewhat ethereal in the moonlight, flicker. W-What? the other boy’s mental thoughts come to a stutter.
Sokka can feel the firebender’s emotions drifting through their bond, and it’s like watching something choked off and held down slowly coming back to life. Zuko clearly prefers to communicate in thought form for now, and Sokka lets him. At least they can communicate in some way.
Guess the soulbond has some good use after all. “Your father,” Sokka says clearly, willing all the honesty and belief he has into his own words because he’s pretty sure someone needs to spell this out for Zuko, “is wrong.”
What are you talking about? Zuko frowns, a little of the familiar rage sparking like the idea is preposterous, and that hurts Sokka’s heart just a little more. My Father is the Fire Lord.
Sure, like that explains everything. Sokka rolls his eyes. Zuko must have sensed the sheer skepticism Sokka harbours right then, this thought because the glare pulls deeper. The Fire Lord is always right , Zuko insists, though his voice trembles. It was my fault, Father only gave me what I deserved-
“ No,” Sokka almost shouts, then makes an effort to tone down his voice at the way Zuko both flinches and tries to glare defiantly like the stubborn little idiot he is. It might have been endearing if it wasn't so infuriating. “What your father did to you was cruel , and it was wrong .” Sokka says bluntly, feeling how the other boy shook at every emphasis. “You’re his son . He shouldn’t have hurt his own child, he shouldn’t have banished you and he definitely shouldn’t have sentenced you to death.”
There’s a hint of that familiar temper coming to the surface. You know nothing. You’re just a water tribe savage.
Sokka’s own temper begins to rise at the incendiary comment, but he clamps down on it. Enough time being soul-bonded has taught him that Zuko uses anger as a defense mechanism, and he resorts to being even more of dick when he’s anxious.
I know exactly what you’re trying to do, you jerkbender, and I’m not playing into it.
Zuko’s eyes widen a little. You know nothing , he repeats, trying to rally, and Sokka takes the opportunity to push him.
“Oh yeah?” Sokka raises an eyebrow, playing it cool. It’s his turn to feel dark satisfaction when senses through the soulbond Zuko’s irritation that the taunt didn’t work.
“I know that fathers don’t mutilate their sons for speaking out of turn,” he says levelly, and sees the minute flinch when it comes. He knows it’s harsh, and that’s why he’s not raising his voice, but he’s not going to sugarcoat it either because Zuko needs to hear this.
“I deserved it, I was disrespectful and spoke out of turn,” Zuko rasps, voice a little rough from disuse, and any relief Sokka feels at finally hearing the firebender speak is eclipsed by outrage at what was being said. “Father had to -”
“You were standing up for your own people like a true leader should,” Sokka interrupts. Their mental channel is wide open now, which means Zuko’s frustration and confusion bleeds into his own until he can no longer tell which emotions are whose, only amplifying the embers of each other's ire. “Like your Father should have.”
“The Fire Lord is Agni’s living representative in this world,” Zuko recites like a textbook, and Sokka has to try really hard not to roll his eyes again. “He has reasons beyond our understanding, that we are not privy to, and wisdom we do not know of, and his decree is always right and just-”
Okay, Sokka may not have known Zuko for very long and most of their acquaintance consisted of being on opposite sides of a century long conflict, but even he can tell that was bizarre levels of obedience for someone who’s prone to rebelling at the slightest sign of authority. “Save me from the drivel, please,” Sokka interrupts, snorting. “Try telling that to all the airbenders and air bisons, to all the prisoners of war, to my Mom -oh right, you can’t, because they’re all dead .”
He’s aware of Aang and Katara looking their way but it’s beyond him to explain. The miasma of guilt, self-loathing and utter confusion that tears through Zuko right now is so strong that even Sokka, who only gets the slightest impression of it, feels like vomiting.
“I’m- sorry-” Zuko says haltingly, face stricken, and oh no this is not where Sokka wanted to take the conversation at all. He curses.
“Save it,” Sokka repeats. This was going far south of what he wanted to achieve, so he tries to pull himself back to the objective at hand.
“That- I swear upon my honor, I-”
Honor, that’s it. “Okay, look,” Sokka says, with a flash of inspiration. “You’re all about honor right? Do you think it was honorable that that general wanted to use fresh, inexperienced children as bait for the greater good of the Fire Nation?” The last part came with quotation marks.
Zuko looks shocked. “Of course it wasn’t honorable!” he hisses. “It was a betrayal!”
“But the Fire Lord agreed with that General, right?” Sokka asks. “So the Fire Lord wasn’t acting honorable, and therefore he was wrong.”
“I- that’s not how it works!”
“Then how does it work?” Sokka pushes relentlessly. “Do you think it was right to use them as a sacrifice? You think they all deserve to die for the greater good?”
“No!”
“So how do you think you deserve to be punished for speaking up to protect them?”
“I- it’s not like that-” Zuko looks truly flustered, his eyes flickering in confusion for a moment before he rallies with a scowl. In the heat of the moment, Sokka thinks it’s almost a cute look on him, if only it wasn’t clear they’re both one breath away from jumping at each other’s throat. “Stop playing games,” he demands, evading the issue at hand.
Sokka sighs and thinks the old man he glimpsed in Zuko’s memories must have had more patience than a literal angel. “It’s not a game, Zuko, it’s a simple question. Which is it? Your father is right for burning you, because you were wrong for speaking out of turn which means those kid soldiers deserved to die for the glory of Fire Nation, or your father is wrong for burning you for doing what’s right because all those lives meant something?”
“I - I don’t-”
“You don’t know?” Sokka pushes. Maybe he’s being cruel, but Zuko’s a big boy, he can take it. “You knew it at barely thirteen, what was right and what was wrong, so why not now? What changed? Did daddy scare you off for good? Honor means nothing to you anymore because Daddy said you had none?”
Finally, a hint of the temper flares. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Zuko growls. His tone has turned low, vibrating with danger. He’s breathing hard now, fists clenching and unclenching.
Oho. Now they were getting somewhere. Far from scaring Sokka, the familiar rage that fills those golden eyes embolden him.
Sokka’s carried away by his sense of righteousness, and maybe just a little bit of desperation to save this constantly-infuriating-but fundamentally-good person in front of him - if only Sokka can just get through - “You already know what is right. You always knew. You don't have to push it away. Defending life is never wrong, and you were right to do it, you weren’t disrespectful-”
Zuko flounders, and repeats again, because clearly he has no real argument and they both know it: “ Stop it! You have no idea what you’re talking about-”
“I was there,” Sokka says. “I watched it happen, didn’t I?”
“ Without my permission! ” Zuko’s nearly incoherent. His eyes blaze with that golden fire that Sokka can’t help think attractive, even as he spits, “You had no right-”
In that moment, another piece falls into place. “That’s why you’re not sleeping,” Sokka realises. “You’re afraid it’s going to happen again.”
“I’m not afraid!” Despite his words, Zuko looks terrified now, like all his walls are crumbling, and Sokka feels the phantom sensation of walls closing around him. Zuko doesn’t look like he’s breathing properly, and it’s leaving impressions on Sokka.
“It’s okay to be -”
“Shut the fuck up,” Zuko snarls. “I don’t want your meaningless platitudes.”
Sokka breathes in. Breathes out. Thinks of a cornered baby ottercat, snarling and spitting rapidly before its life was taken. “Okay,” he concedes placatingly. “You’re not afraid. Got it.” Even so, Sokka’s mind begins to spin.
Zuko’s avoiding sleep because he doesn’t want Sokka seeing his nightmares again. It’s so obvious and such a fair point that Sokka’s kicking himself for not realising it sooner. In his place, he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see his own dreams.
“Here,” Sokka tries. “Why don’t you try to sleep while I stay awake? Can’t dream your dream if I’m not asleep enough to dream, right?”
Zuko looks at him warily. “I’d rather stay awake.”
“You’re going to kill yourself,” Sokka tells him, and pretends he doesn’t hear the Good, might as well that crosses the other’s mind. That is a lot to unpack, and is a conversation for another day.
They sit in silence for some time after, Sokka playing with the water from Katara’s water skin while Zuko stares out into the distance. Despite the soulbond thrumming stronger than before, Sokka feels even further from the firebender across him than he ever has, the chasm across them wider and more impossible to bridge than ever.
Notes:
Spirits, Tui and La, Agni, Oma and shu this chapter was the hardest one to write T^T
Sorry for the one week delay - life has been kicking ass. Am super tired.:’( but still alive!/small trumpets…/Would love to hear your thoughts about this chapter
Am looking forward to the next one too 👉👈
Chapter 15: All the gentle creatures
Summary:
Finally some zukka fluff and turtleducks.
Notes:
This was one of my favourite chapters to write, I hope you enjoy it :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 22:51
chapter 15 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Several hours into their flight, Sokka takes a nap and wakes up to Zuko looking worse than ever. Appa would need a break soon so they’re going to have to stop to allow their organic little vehicle to rest, and Sokka’s a teeny bit concerned because he wouldn’t put it past Zuko to do something crazy the moment they land.
Aang wanders over to bug Zuko and Sokka when it’s Katara’s turn to steer. Clearly, the kind airbender’s gone and gotten himself attached to the firebender, despite having been his main target for months. Sokka would be more worried if it wasn’t for the fact that he himself is determined to keep the latest addition to the team with them at all costs. “Have you tried meditating?” Aang asks.
“He has,” Sokka replies, not even aware that he’s doing it for Zuko until the words slip out of his mouth. Whoops. “Meditation isn’t the issue.”
Aang looks between the both of them, seeming to understand after a moment. For all his playfulness, the kid’s always been too perceptive by half. “Maybe you can try... lucid dreaming,” Aang suggests.
It’s not a term Sokka’s familiar with, but Zuko tilts his head to the side like he’s considering it. It’s reminiscent of a curious ottercat, and well, it’s kind of cute. “What’s lucid dreaming?” Sokka asks.
“It’s a form of meditation,” Aang explains, “that’s supposed to be able to give you some awareness of your dreams. The monks used to use it all the time as a practice to increase mindfulness.”
“Huh,” Sokka lets out dubiously. Sounds like a lot of magical mooseshit , he thinks, though he’s careful not to say that out loud to Aang.
Zuko lets out a noise that might have been a snort, if Sokka stood on one leg and squinted a bit. He must have been desperate, because it doesn’t take much wheedling from Aang for him to agree.
“I… guess it’s worth a try,” the firebender says unhappily. It doesn’t take a soulbond to understand just how exhausted the firebender is. One glance at his pale face, the shadow under one eye and the network of scars under the bandages that decorate his sternum is enough.
“Just… make yourself comfortable,” Aang instructs. “Close your eyes, and think about a place that makes you happy.”
“I’m never happy,” Zuko mutters. It should be funny, except Sokka can tell via the soulbound that he’s totally serious, and then it’s just... Sad.
That’s when Sokka abruptly realises he doesn’t know what ‘happy’ looks like on Zuko, and resolves to fix that.
“Surely you have one good memory,” Aang encourages, because his world is one where everything is bright and cheery and makes sense, apparently. “Just focus on that, and let any resistance go. You can do it!”
“I'm not sure,” Zuko admits roughly as he drops his head, like the words are being pulled out of him.“I don’t always get things right the first time.”
“But you’ve got the persistence of like, several komodo rhinos, so if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
“I guess,” Zuko murmurs, voice dropping to a whisper. Long lashes fall shut to focus, and Sokka finds himself mirroring the movement.
***
Music for this part : Tomorrow’s song, Olafur Arnalds
(highly recommend playing this in the background/listening to the podfic version. Please humor the author? /squirms/ ><)
When the first breeze caresses his skin against pleasant heat that’s both familiar and not, Zuko finds his breath catching. His eyes open just a crack, fearful it’s just a figment of imagination from a mind gone desperate with yearning.
But it’s not.
Home. He’s home again, inasmuch as the way the word's ever meant to him.
Zuko stares at the dewy grass surrounding the body of water in front of him, and feels his eyes grow wet. The scent of fire lilies and dew wafts in the air. Little baby turtleducks quack at the centre of the pond, following their mother in a parody of a formal procession. Agni’s rays lend the pond’s surroundings an ethereal glow. Sitting under Mother’s favourite tree that’s graciously protecting him with its shade, Zuko feels a rough edge of himself heal.
He hasn’t been to this turtleduck pond in Caldera in years, even before he was banished. Father forbade it since Mother disappeared.
A sense of calm settles within Zuko, infusing the very hollow of his bones. This place has always been one of tranquility for him, full of Mother’s laughter and a younger, kinder Azula’s wide eyes staring up at him. Let go , Aang had said. For once, Zuko takes someone else’s advice and allows himself to sink into the feeling.
One of the baby turtleducks waddle up to him, seeking attention, so Zuko cradles it gently in his palm and watches it make itself comfortable. He starts to stroke the little thing’s head, marveling that it doesn’t squawk or try to nip his fingers. It must be one of the youngest- Mother said they’re the most docile because they haven’t been taught to be suspicious of strangers yet. Zuko embraces the feeling of contentment so wholly that he can’t find it within himself to even be upset when he hears rustling and looks up to meet a startled pair of ocean blue eyes across the pond.
“Uh.” Sokka looks like a startled turtleduck that just got thwacked on the nose with a flying piece of toast, so Zuko can’t help the smile that graces his lips. It’s kind of cute, if he’s honest. The thought doesn’t even freak Zuko out.
“Didn’t you just take a nap?” Zuko asks, his tone more mild than he ever remembers it being. It must be the place, he decides.
Sokka looks properly freaked out for once. “I’m sorry! I swear I didn’t mean to intrude on your dream again-”
“It’s fine.” Zuko waves it away. At least it isn’t a nightmare this time. It’s weird, but he’s actually kind of glad to see Sokka here. This is a place of shared joy, not meant to be kept solitary or boarded up as Father had.
Sokka’s still just fidgeting where he stands. Zuko notices and gestures for him to sit. The water tribe boy appears to debate for a moment before moving cautiously around the pond towards Zuko.
Zuko blinks. Huh . He cocks his head up at Sokka who’s still standing, and the other boy’s face does something funny. Zuko can’t read into it, because- “I can’t hear your thoughts here.”
The water tribe boy blinks back at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Huh, you’re right,” Sokka says wonderingly. His eyes screw up in concentration.“Can you hear me now?”
“Other than what you’re saying aloud, no.”
“Huh. Guess lucid dreaming works.” Sokka looks around. Intentional or not, Sokka settles gingerly beside him on his right. Zuko notes this with a startled kind of gratitude. He leaves enough space for them to be close, but not enough to touch, which feels oddly like a loss. “What is this place?”
Zuko returns his gaze back to the mostly calm surface of the pond, disturbed only by the little ripples made by each turtleduck as they swim around their mother. A place I was happy, once , Zuko doesn’t say. Instead he answers quietly. “Mother used to love sitting here.”
“It’s lovely,” Sokka remarks, his voice trailing off in awe. Then: “Past tense?”
Zuko’s lips tilt a little in melancholy, watching the little turtleduck in his hand squawk at him. He idly wishes he had some bread to offer it. “She’s been gone a long time. Back even before I was - banished.”
Somehow, saying those words sting less here.
“Oh.” Sokka shifts a little, making himself comfortable. “Something we have in common.” Zuko hums in agreement.
Silence falls between them, companionable like never before. Sokka’s playing with the water, testing his new ability to waterbend. Zuko watches on for a bit, vaguely noticing the fluidity of the flow, so very different to ferocity of firebending. He wonders if the two styles have anything in common, and what they could do if integrated, like his fire dao are.
Maybe it's the haze of contentment in the way Sokka’s presence is completely free of expectations or judgment that Zuko’s used to receiving from literally everyone around him. Maybe it’s the way Sokka’s clearly amateur use of waterbending mirrors Zuko’s own rocky start to firebending, but something prompts him to want to tell the other boy more. “She was protecting me,” Zuko says. “I was really young so I didn't really understand it- all the court politics and power plays - but I know that she left to protect me.”
He feels Sokka’s gaze on him. “Maybe she’s still alive, then?” Sokka ventures cautiously.
Zuko shrugs. “Doubt it. Father doesn’t like to leave loose ends- he would have found her by now.” Unless he’s the one who sent her away or had her killed, Zuko thinks, but it’s not something he wants to share in this space, the one place his memory is untainted.
Sokka seems to understand not to push the topic, and once again Zuko finds himself grateful for the other boy’s strange moments of tact interspersed with his more common moments of bluntness. The turtleduck squawks at him again, presumably because Zuko’s stopped petting its little head, so Zuko resumes. “Who’s your little friend?”
Zuko startles. “Oh, she doesn’t have a name yet,” he admits, a little embarrassed and protective at once. Reflexively he tucks the turtleduck away under one palm, forming a barrier from harm. It’s a habit ingrained from years of hiding his fondness for soft and cute things from Father’s critical eye (you are a disgrace, Zuko, there is no place for softheartedness in a ruler , Father had reprimanded.) Zuko never found out what happened to the turtleduck he’d stolen away into his bedroom after that.
He finally looks back at Sokka, only to find those ocean blue eyes watching him with something that he’s rarely found in another’s gaze. Maybe Mother’s, once, maybe Uncle’s. It’s such an absurd notion that Zuko discards it almost immediately. Soul-bonded or not, he and Sokka are still on different sides of a war. Whatever Zuko thinks he sees, it’s nothing but wishful thinking.
“No name yet, huh?” Sokka asks, a teasing note in his voice. Zuko tenses. “Well then, I’m going to go right ahead and call her…” he pauses, “Ducktle!”
Tension evaporates, leaving Zuko to stare at Sokka in disbelief. “Ducktle? Really?”
Sokka looks proud of himself. “Yeah, I know, I’ve always been good with names,” he says breezily, at the same time as Zuko says, “That’s a horrible name!”
They both stare at each other for a moment. “No it’s not!” Sokka argues.
“Yes it is!” Zuko insists, appalled. “Who names a turtleduck Ducktle?”
“I do.”
“You can’t just- mash two names together!”
“I just did, didn’t I?”
“Well then,” Zuko fumbles a bit, not at all used to this kind of banter, “you suck at names!”
Sokka looks indignant. “I do not! Foo foo cuddly poops and Hawky and countless other people agree with me!”
“...Foo foo… what?”
Sokka laughs out loud. “Oh, I think you didn’t manage to catch up to us yet that time,” he says, then launches into a fascinating story about a baby lion moose Zuko wishes he could have met.
Sokka’s blue eyes sparkle as he speaks, sharp jawline accentuated as he chuckles, and in the light of Agni’s rays Zuko can’t help but think oh, he’s -beautiful.
Thank Agni they can’t hear each other right then, because Zuko would happily die of shame.
“...And that’s how I made a friend out of a baby lion moose!” Sokka finishes. Zuko shakes his head, hoping the flush of his cheeks can be attributed to the high heat of Caldera.
“You guys... honestly have the craziest adventures,” Zuko says. Another breeze picks up, the sensation calming against his skin, tugging on Sokka’s wolf tail and Zuko’s own phoenix plume. It’s strong enough that it almost blows over another tiny turtleduck that’s been investigating a clump of fire lilies by Zuko’s leg. It makes Zuko smile, but he reaches out to rescue it before it can hurt itself.
“Hey,” Sokka says abruptly, voice back to the awed tone Zuko heard earlier. “Zuko, do you know you have a dimple?”
To Zuko’s shock, a finger gently prods the right side of his face where said dimple presumably is. He flinches back, eyes wide and heart racing. The two turtleducks in his hands let out indignant squawks as they get dislodged from their comfortable positions.
To Sokka’s credit, he immediately backs off. Hands flying up, he begins to babble an apology. “Oh shit, shitshitshit sorry, Zuko, I am so sorry I didn’t -”
Zuko wills his harsh breathing to slow down. “-it’s okay,” Zuko manages to say, because it is, or at least it should be . Sokka’s touch had held no malice beyond a teasing note. So it should be fine right? Zuko had no reason to freak out.
Only that the last time Zuko allowed someone to touch his face, it had been healers or Uncle patching up his scar. And then there had been… times when it had been touched without permission, the feel of a rough, demanding palm against his face, but Zuko does not want to go there, not here, not now-
Sokka’s blue eyes are wide and horrified, the earlier sparkle gone. “I’m really sorry,” the water tribe boy murmurs. “I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I wasn’t thinking, I’m really sorry.”
“It’s… okay.” Zuko breathes in, his earlier calm shattered. He’s angry with himself- to be so fucking pathetic that something so simple can shatter a near-perfect moment. Father would be ashamed at such fragility and weakness Zuko is ashamed-
“Stop that,” Sokka’s authoritative voice snaps Zuko out of his rapid spiral. “I can literally hear you beating yourself up, stop it.” Sokka’s expressive face is now sad, and he’s watching Zuko like he knows exactly what he’s thinking. Given how long they’ve been stuck in each other’s heads and what they’ve unwittingly learned from the soulbond, he probably does. Zuko begins to feel the familiar tinge of fear crawling up his spine at the vulnerability.
He nearly jumps out of his skin when Sokka scoots closer and reaches out one hand, not quite touching but close enough that Zuko can feel the warmth of his skin.
“Stop hating yourself,” Sokka’s voice is soft, but Zuko flinches anyway because with those words Sokka might as well have gone straight for his jugular. “That kind of shit is enough to mess anyone up, okay? It’s not your fault.”
He hates himself just a little more for how much he wants to lean into that softness. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he blurts out a little desperately, leaning away instead of towards because it’s a rule of the universe that Zuko can never get what he wants without messing it up. “Can we talk about something else?” Please , he doesn't say, because he hasn’t fallen quite low enough to beg yet, but it’s a near thing.
Talking about it would bring up questions and force Zuko to think about what he’s going to do next, which he doesn’t want to think about or have the answer to, so he doesn’t want to.
Sokka’s silent for what feels like forever, to the point Zuko thinks he’s going to push it and is fully prepared to snarl the moment he opens his mouth. Instead Sokka drops his hands and leans back with a forced casualness. “Alright, cool. So,” Sokka asks, “what’re we gonna name the other one?”
Zuko blinks.
“The other turtleduck?” Sokka prompts. “We need to celebrate its individualism! Or else it’ll be left out- Hang on, is it a he? How can you even tell the earlier one was a she?” He begins chattering away, though his eyes are carefully watching Zuko.
Slowly, the tightness in his chest that Zuko’s fairly certain isn’t lightning-wound induced begins to leave. He can’t help but feel some admiration for the Water tribe boy, who’s clearly smart enough to have deduced that talking about turtleducks is one surefire way to get Zuko to calm down.
Zuko doesn’t quite understand what’s happening between them, this soft tentative thing between him and Sokka like the tiniest little spark from a kindling. It feels almost intimate, in a way that a normal friendship shouldn’t- but then, it might only be because they’ve been forcibly soul bonded against their will, and it’s not like Zuko’s ever quite had a friend his age to compare it to.
All he knows is that in this dream landscape, with Sokka’s theories and chatter (“Turtuck! We’ll name this one Turtuck!” “That’s an even worse name, Sokka, great Agni” ) belied by his gorgeous smile, interspersed with soft quacks of the turtleducks and the scent of fire lilies and dew light in the air. Zuko feels a peace he hasn’t in a long time.
Notes:
Want to help us name the mother turtleduck? Any thoughts and suggestions welcome! Though Zuko knows best and gets the final say.
This was one of my favourite chapters to write, I've been playing with it forever! Linking twoturtleduck pics at the end as a treat + a sketch of Zuko with turtleduck as a treat (by Stadust Steel) feel free to sue it as your icon or anywhere, just credit me if you don't mind :)
As always your reviews and comments appreciated, we try to respond to every one of them :)
I'm going to forewarn you that fluff is going to be followed by some hurt and angst next week, so brace yourselves...
Chapter 16: Future History
Summary:
Sokka explores waterbending and catches feelings. Zuko pushes himself to the point of collapse.
Notes:
THANK YOU SO MUCH for everyone who gave the mother turtleduck name suggestions-we particulalry enjoyed MAducktle and Shelldon Mcquartle! It'll come into play later on in Part 2 of this story! I (Stardust) am really glad you all enjoyed the hurt/comfort /fluff in the last chapter, because the angst train is about to hit quite ehavily /grimaces/ Also thanks to everyone wh humored me and either listened to the music OR the podfic by Dr_Fumbles, because it really adds to the story.
On to this week's update!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 18:10
chapter 16 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Zuko wakes up feeling refreshed like he hasn’t in a long time, and almost - happy . Which is a strange, unfamiliar sensation in itself. That lasts for about a millisecond before he realises the... rather interesting position he’s ended up tangled in with Sokka in their sleep.
“Ah!” He absolutely does not squeak as he springs back, face flaming and both offense and apologies heavy on his lips. The other boy looks just as embarrassed, but mentally tells Zuko to shut up and that it was entirely mutual before any of the words make it out of his mouth, saving them both some dignity.
Aang immediately bounces towards them the moment it’s obvious Zuko’s properly awake and not about to die of shame. “So, did it work?”
His gray eyes are wide and guileless like he’s genuinely concerned. Zuko has to swallow down the immediate urge to snap and remind himself that Aang has so far proven to be nothing like Azula’s fake care and desire to seek out weakness.
“It did,” Sokka answers for Zuko, grinning. “Gotta admit, Aang, I thought that was some more of that magic spiritual bullshit, but it was pretty impressive.”
Aang’s eyebrows furrow. “How do you know?” he asks Sokka.
“Oh, uh, we... still shared a dream...?”
The airbender blinks, startled. “Then-”
“It was a nice dream,” Sokka says quickly. “A really nice dream.”
Aang looks between them, the questions clear in his eyes.
What did Zuko say about a flaming face? At least Aang’s gracious enough not to mention how he and Sokka have been practically cuddling in their sleep. Though, what Zuko knows of the airbender at this point suggests that Aang wouldn’t have even seen it as something out of the ordinary.
“It wasn’t a nightmare, at least. It was- good. Um. Thanks ,” Zuko forces out, because Aang deserves that much truth for the suggestion at least.
Aang beams.
That’s kind of you , comes the unbidden thought from Sokka, and if it’s possible Zuko flushes even deeper. The air around them is cool with the characteristic breeze of flight, and there’s no Caldera weather to help disguise the color in his pale skin now. Sokka grins at him, wide and charming, and Zuko hurriedly tries to slam his mental barriers down before that thought escapes.
“We’re going to land soon,” Aang tells them. “Appa needs rest, too! I think he’s also shedding too much fur.”
Zuko perks up a bit. Truly, the lack of nightmares have done him wonders, and he’s the most at ease he’s ever felt in the last three years.
He blames this feel-goodness for the hopeful, ( childish ) question that slips out without filter: “What do you do when he sheds- do you brush him?”
Sokka laughs at him. Zuko feigns irritation and makes to stomp away right before Katara accosts him to check on his wound, but it’s a real struggle to keep the smile off his lips.
And honestly, of all the struggles Zuko’s had in his life, this one isn’t so bad.
***
“Okay,” Sokka calls out, balancing into a wide stance and waving his arms to keep them circulating like a waterbender should. “Let’s try that again.”
Katara frowns at him from where she stands in a similar stance by the lake. “Are you sure? Sokka, you’ve been going non-stop for two hours.”
“I’m fine,” Sokka says dismissively, and tries to change the wave of his hand into something more constructive. The water bubble he conjures arcs through the air in a circle around Katara. Sokka watches it in delight, until it wobbles for a bit before dissipating in a splash. “Aw man, I thought I had it then,” he grumbles.
Katara crosses her arms. “I’m telling you in my capacity as a waterbending master, not just your sister -you’re going to burn yourself out,” she lectures. “Your body doesn’t have the same chi paths as a born waterbender, so it needs time to adapt or else you’ll burn out. You need a break.”
“You should tell Zuko that,” Sokka says. He casts a glance to where the firebender is, closer to the tree lines with his back to them. For the last two hours Zuko’s been alternating between watching Katara try to teach Sokka the basics of waterbending, and trying to practice his own firebending katas. To Sokka’s knowledge though, Zuko’s been working at it since long before he and Katara began, when Aang left to pick some berries.
“Hey Zuko, take a break! You’re going to burn yourself out,” Sokka calls out, and is ceremoniously ignored. Katara lets out a quiet sigh behind him. Together, they observe as Zuko aims and executes a high spinning kick leading with his heel. He follows it with a low sweep in a sequence that by all accounts looks inhuman, the motion as graceful as it is powerful. Sokka watches the lean muscles of his back and calves ripple with the movement, and has to look away quickly, his face burning. He takes a moment to banish any impure thoughts about just how flexible Zuko is and wow that is absolutely not appropriate Sokka, where had that come from?
Sokka would have been mightily concerned that Zuko had heard that thought, but Zuko’s single-minded determination in everything he does works in Sokka’s favour for once because Zuko doesn't acknowledge it. Instead, it’s Sokka who can feel the edges of frustration and rising anger drifting from Zuko tugging through their soulbond, along with a slew of increasingly self-loathing diatribe that is frankly quite concerning to hear.
Why can’t I firebend!
Come on please- just a little spark-
Stupid -useless- weak-
Father would be ashamed-
Why am I so useless -
Uh oh, fire hazard spotted. Except, you know, there’s no actual fire.
It should technically be a good thing that their once-enemy couldn’t use his main weapon any longer, but Sokka honestly thinks they’ve moved on from that base, whatever Zuko wants to say about it, and all he can feel is pity at how hard Zuko is working and how futile it seems to be despite it.
The firebender moves through in the next thrust- kick combo, his phoenix plume flying behind him. Sokka’s familiar enough with being on the other side of that particular move to know that there should definitely be some flames rising from his fist, but all Zuko manages to produce is a baby spark.
Zuko lets out a roar that would be almost scary if Sokka wasn’t just the slightest bit used to it by now, then abruptly sways a little on his feet. That’s when Sokka notices that the firebender’s breathing way too hard for it to be normal.
Sokka has just enough time to exchange a look of alarm with Katara before Zuko drops to his knees in front of them, panting. A pale hand rises to cover the centre of his chest where Sokka knows the lightning wound is.
“Zuko!” All thoughts of further training fly out of Sokka’s mind as he runs towards the other boy. This close, he realises that Zuko is trembling all over, shivering despite the heat emanating from his skin. Sokka hovers by, pulled by a strong urge to touch and offer comfort (he blames it on the soulbound, what else can it be) but hesitating out of respect for the upset firebender’s space.
Katara in her healer mode seems to have no such compulsions.“What did I say about not pushing yourself?” she scolds as she reaches for him, eyes on the centre of his chest. But Zuko flinches away from her touch and returns a glare.
Katara wordlessly acquiesces and allows her glowing hands to hover without touching as she begins to check on Zuko. She doesn’t rip into Zuko as she would other stubborn patients, but she does up her own scowl to match his. Sokka would not want to be on the receiving end of those judgy eyes, nope.
It takes a moment, but Zuko eventually looks away too. “I need to get my fire back,” he mutters, scowling, “And it’s not going to happen if I just sit around and slack off.”
“But you haven’t been slacking off,” Katara reminds him patiently, “you’ve been working since sun up.” Sokka reaches out one hand, the movement slow and deliberate to clearly telegraph his intentions, and inwardly cheers when Zuko allows it to land on his right shoulder. At the touch, some of the tension seems to leave the firebender’s body along with a lengthy exhale.
Sokka takes a chance and gently squeezes Zuko’s shoulder in an impromptu massage. Zuko doesn’t stiffen up and kick him away, so Sokka takes that as an invitation to continue.
“Do you think it’s because of me?” Sokka asks quietly, giving voice to a guilty thought he’s been carrying since the collapse of Wan Shi Tong’s library. “It can’t be a coincidence that I can waterbend just as Zuko loses his firebending. Maybe there’s some kind of power transfer in the bond…?”
Both Katara and Zuko look at him like they haven’t considered the possibility before. “It’s possible, I guess,” Katara says, “but nothing we read suggested this would happen…”
“There wasn’t much information on the soulbond,” Sokka pointed out.
“But I could still firebend after all the stuff that went down at the North Pole,” Zuko reminds them. “I only started to struggle… at the library…” he trails off.
Sokka holds in a wince at the sharp pang of pain echoing through their soulbond. He remembers Azula’s cold eyes and calculating smile as she taunts her brother, and is suddenly extremely glad that he has Katara as a sister, as much as they irritate each other sometimes. At least hurting each other doesn’t run in the family, the way Zuko’s seem to.
Looking at the way current Zuko’s features are pulled down in a fierce scowl, Sokka can’t help but compare to the peaceful version of in the dream they’d shared at the turtleduck pond. It was strange to see the firebender so calm and gentle. Zuko had even smiled at one point as he rescued Turtuck, right cheek dimpling and Sokka had felt his heart just -melt through his shoes.
Uh-oh, dangerous line of thinking, abort, abort.
Thank the Spirits, Zuko had seemed too swept up in his own storm of thoughts to have heard Sokka’s. Zuko’s frowning at the ground now, mind unprotected, and just a little prod tells him there’s a lot of things they aren’t addressing that lies under that stormy surface, things that Sokka himself is dying to ask.
What’s Zuko’s plan now? What does he intend to do, is he still after Aang? Does he still think Jerklord Ozai is right?
But really, Sokka thinks that Zuko himself doesn’t really know the answers. The pattern of the firebender’s life so far suggests he doesn’t seem to think very far ahead, opting for improvisation as opposed to Sokka’s preference for careful planning. And truth be told Sokka’s afraid asking all those questions will trigger Zuko in the worst ways back to being their all-out enemy. This is something Zuko needs to explore and come to himself.
More than anything, Sokka’s startled to realise how achingly lonely Zuko feels. He’s always had Katara to count on. Katara to back him up. With Katara came Aang. Zuko is just… alone.
It doesn’t sit well with Sokka’s squishy little heart, to see the firebender more moody than normal, so Sokka tugs his shoulder again. “Okay, so maybe you can’t firebend right now, but you can still fight hand-to-hand right? Wanna go a round?”
“Sokka,” Katara starts, “I said he needs to-”
“-rest, I know but let’s be real, Zuko is wayyy too stubborn to listen to any of us,” Sokka says, shooting the firebender an amused look. He thinks he knows the firebender well enough to say this with great confidence. Zuko bristles, but doesn’t deny it. “He’s just going to keep training the moment we look away. Might as well join him so he doesn’t hurt himself.”
At least this way maybe Zuko would tire himself out enough to be able to sleep.
“Stop talking about me as if I’m not right here,” Zuko complains, but doesn’t resist any further. Sokka grins as he pulls himself to his feet, wobbling only slightly. Though her eyes are wary, Katara steps back in clear permission. “Ready to get your ass kicked, water tribe?”
It’s a light jibe with no malice, a long way from where they had been the first time in the tiny village Sokka called home. “That’s surprising language for a prince,” Sokka comments, readying himself.
Zuko snorts. “I lived on a boat with sailors for three years, I assure you that’s just the bare minimum.”
“Well then,” Sokka let his grin widen into something decidedly more lethal, “show me what you got, jerkbender.”
Did he imagine it, or did those golden eyes flicker to his lips? Sokka barely has time to process that thought before Zuko’s charging towards him almost too fast to track, too fast for Sokka to launch a sneak attack. They meet each other in an explosive clash in the middle, and their hand-to-hand match begins.
***
Sokka gets his ass thoroughly kicked. It’s so bad that he can’t even muster up the slightest bit of denial. Wise men knew to admit when they were beaten, after all.
They’re both lying on the ground now, out of breath and completely sore in Sokka’s case. It had been almost like a dance more than a spar, the way they’d moved seamlessly and read into each other’s motions. The soulbond had been unexpectedly useful in that it helped Sokka predict Zuko’s movements before they came, so he’d lasted longer than usual, but it was still very clear who won that round. And several rounds after that.
“Well,” Sokka gasps, “I guess I do - kinda need a little bit more practice at hand-to-hand.”
Though his pride is a little bit hurt, looking over at Zuko who is lying on his side, limbs a lot looser than before they’d started out makes Sokka privately think it had been worth a few bruises.
“You - weren’t bad,” Zuko offers, breathing hard too. “You’ve improved since the - last time we fought.”
Sokka groans. “It’ll be embarrassing if I didn't- that was such a low bar.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself-”
“Excuse me?” Sokka asks incredulously, shifting to his own side so that they're directly facing each other. “Are you listening to yourself right now, world’s biggest hypocrite?”
“You had no one to train with, right?” Zuko points out. “From what I saw of your memories, you learned to fight on your own. Of course your fighting skills would be utterly dismal.”
“Hey,” Sokka squawks. “I wasn’t that bad!”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?! Not all of us grow up honed for war!”
Zuko’s face immediately tightens. For someone whose facial expressions consist of mostly scowls and not much else, the firebender’s ridiculously easy to read. In that way, Zuko and Aang are quite similar.
Sokka wonders how much trouble that expressive face got Zuko into, back in the Fire Nation.
He’s seen some of it in Zuko’s memories, hasn’t he?
“Really, though,” Sokka hastens to say, trying to steer this conversation back to safer ground. “That was a good fight, buddy.”
“Uh, thanks, you too.” To Sokka’s delight, Zuko offers him a hesitant upward tilt to his lips, one that could be called a smile if Sokka wanted to stretch the definition of one, and Sokka did want to.
“You should smile more often, you know,” he tells Zuko unthinkingly. “It looks good on you.”
What.
Sokka’s eyes widen at the same time as golden eyes do, its owner flushing. “Um,” Zuko says, but he’s interrupted by Sokka’s wild rambling. “Uh, okay, that sounded weird-”
“Sokka-”
“Can we just ---pretend I didn’t just say that? Wipe the last ten seconds -”
“Sokka-”
“I always blurt out the stupidest things, I really didn’t mean anything by it, I-”
“SOKKA,” Zuko cuts in, loudly, and Sokka’s mouth snaps shut. “It’s fine. Um, I tend to say dumb stuff out loud too-”
“Hey!”
“So, I’m not- judging. Um-” Pale skin flushes a pretty pink. “...thank you, I guess?”
This time, there’s no mistaking the small smile Zuko directs his way. It’s fleeting and embarrassed and just a little bit shy, and something in Sokka’s chest just- skips, then begins to beat the same way it did when Yue had laughed with him, back under the light of the full moon, when they had been surrounded by beautiful ice skyscrapers and first time flutters and— Oh. OH.
Oh, no.
Spirits, Sokka is so, so screwed.
Amid Sokka’s miniature crisis and the high quality faffing he’s got going on around a rather confused, blissfully oblivious Zuko after, they manage to avoid talking about the next plans and Serious Important Things That Need Talking About. Instead they discuss much cooler things, like why firebenders tend to be physically strong (“We augment our kicks with firebending, that’s how we can break metal,” Zuko tells them) and the differences between the three bending forms they have in their midst. It’s comfortable, and companionable, and the group even manage to make a good dinner out of the berries Aang managed to find. It isn’t long from then before Katara’s wrangling both her brother and Zuko to sleep.
Yup, no time to talk at all.
Tomorrow, Sokka thinks as he watches the firebender’s breath begin to slow, the soulbond a happy little hum between them. Tomorrow, we talk about the Important stuff.
***
Of course, the very next day the teamed forces of Azula and Zhao sweep in upon them like starving birds of prey, and all Sokka can think is I should have known fucking better .
Notes:
I'm sorry in advance for next week. :P We're coming to the good (?) bits!
Thank you for each and every one of your comments, we read, appreciate and smile over each one and really try to engage :3
Chapter 17: Mirage of Dreams
Summary:
"Zhao thinks the Avatar’s the threat. He seems to have forgotten you and I are more than just two people in the way.”
Sokka meets Zuko’s gaze with a lethal smirk of his own. “Let’s remind him, then.”Zuko draws back into the corridor with a nod. “Just don’t do anything reckless, okay? We break their circle then we run for Appa.” Assuming Appa is still alive.
Hopefully Katara and Aang are still alive. Given how fierce of a fighter Katara is when she’s mad, and how protective Aang is of her, Sokka’s not too worried. It’s this particular royal reckless idiot that’s most likely to get himself killed. Sokka is not going to let Zhao come close to them ever again.
“On my count,” Sokka says, expecting token protest but encountering none.
They take position.
Zuko’s legs take firm root in the strong open stance that firebending demands. Three.
Sokka loosens and aligns his limbs in preparation for the fluidity that waterbending asks. Two.
Lion eyes meet ocean blue. One.
Notes:
Stardust: I really enjoy interacting with all of you, thank you for your comments! and without further ado, here's the next chapter :3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_Steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 24:25
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Zuko falls asleep, and wakes up again back at Mother’s beloved pond.
Sokka is absentmindedly twirling a Fire Lily in his own hand. He looks lost in thought, no evidence of the sharpness mind Zuko had observed as he and Katara had practiced waterbending earlier.
Zuko had found it hard to tear his gaze away then- something about Sokka’s persistence and inquisitiveness, interspersed with moments of humour, had been almost hypnotic to watch.
“Did I ever tell you about the time Aang convinced me to help him climb an active volcano to find Katara a Panda Lily?” Sokka asks suddenly, gesturing with the Fire Lily in his hands.
Zuko shakes his head, sensing another misadventures of the GAang trademark story. “No, I would have remembered that one.”
Sokka grins, then launches into an absurd tale that reminds Zuko again how genuinely surprised he is that the Avatar and his companions managed to evade capture for so long. What Zuko initially assumed was the master strategy and planning of a wise, sneaky Avatar was really Aang’s complete inability to not chase down anything shiny that caught his eye.
It’s only the second time Zuko succeeded in lucid dreaming since Aang suggested it, but already he wonders how he managed to live without it before. Being here is like a drug- Zuko cannot get enough of the calm he hasn’t felt in so long, and every time he’s here the reluctance to leave gets stronger and stronger. Having Sokka here when it’s likely they never would be able to enact it in real life (the thought makes Zuko’s heart ache briefly before he dismisses it) makes it all the better.
“At least he got the Panda Lily in the end,” Zuko remarks after Sokka concludes his narrative. The water tribe boy shrugs.
“I guess. I don’t want to repeat that experience ever again, though.” Sokka twists the stem of the Fire Lily he’s holding, before offering it to a squawking Ducktle who appears to have decided that Sokka is her favourite person to nuzzle up to. Zuko might have been jealous, but he can’t quite bring himself to mind. Even Zuko, grouch extraordinaire of most things and people finds it inordinately easy to be around Sokka, so small fluffy turtleducks don’t stand a chance against Sokka’s charm, he supposes.
They talk about a lot of things and nothing very much at all. Sokka proclaims his love for meat (“ turtleducks are not food ,” Zuko hisses, appalled,) compare preferred sharp items (“you’ve got to show me your dual dao sometime, man,”) and even compare waterbending to firebending. Heat and water are two elements that always appear to be at odds – but without their cooperation, there would be no rain, no flowers or trees. It is a wisdom that Uncle has tried to deliver in too many tea metaphors (“Without fire and water, there is no tea, Zuko”) but only here, watching Sokka swirl a bubble of water in his hands and facing it with curiosity rather wariness, does Zuko understand. Maybe the Avatar had the right concept, combining different elements together instead of pitching them against one another....
These are treasonous, dangerous thoughts, but Zuko’s never been able to lie even to himself, and he’s never been able to control his mind against something he doesn’t believe in.
They fall into another one of the familiar, not-awkward silences that’s rapidly becoming as comforting to Zuko as the the scent of Uncle’s jasmine tea. It’s idyllic and calming and isn’t that just a strange thought? Bare moons ago, he had been staunch enemies with Sokka, plotting to capture the Avatar and bring him back to the glory of Fire Nation.
And now…? Zuko doesn’t quite know.
“It’s so funny,” Zuko lets slip without thinking, watching the mother turtleduck herd her other babies towards the far side of the pond. Sokka makes a questioning noise.
“The panda lily thing? Nah, that’s like, the very bottom of the crazy stuff we’ve done-”
“No, I mean. All this.” Zuko gestures to their surroundings, then to Sokka. “I never thought we’d be… here.”
He knows the other boy understands that he’s not just referring to the pond. “I don’t think we’d be here if Zhao hadn’t been such an idiot,” Sokka says, and Zuko shudders at the name. That slime of a man doesn’t belong in this place.
Sokka’s watching him carefully. His eyes are very blue, and very kind. There’s a certain deliberation in his next words.“He’s - hurt you before, didn’t he?”
“I…” Zuko hesitates. Wonders how much Sokka knows and what he’s glimpsed. Thinks about denying it, but what was the point? What happened happened, there was no use pretending. “Yes.”
Sokka sucks in a breath. “Spirits, Zuko. The more I know about your life, the more surprised I am that you're still alive.”
“He tried to blow up my ship with me still in it,” Zuko says, because that was a safe topic. “If I hadn’t heard intruders on my ship, I would have -- you’re. Angry,” Zuko realises dumbly.
The water tribe boy gives him a look that clearly projects a question on Zuko’s intelligence. “Of course I’m angry,” Sokka growls. “The next time I see Zhao, or your asshole of a father for that matter, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Sokka speaks with the formidable aura of a warrior who can confidently raze down any enemy, never mind that they’re ages older and more experienced than him. Zuko stares, unsure how to react to someone being angry not at him, but rather on his behalf.
His anger morphs to gentle coaxing so quickly that Zuko suffers whiplash from it. “That’s not all Zhao did, right.”
Zuko stills. It’s an unspoken understanding between them that whatever is discussed in this dreamscape is safe, sacred ground, free from plotting and manipulative thoughts. Zuko would honor it with whatever speck of honor he has left, and enough time in his soulbond’s mind has convinced him that while Sokka may not be Fire Nation, his integrity rivals many who are, especially Zhao.
Still, it’s a dark spot of Zuko’s history, almost as much as his scar, and it’s not something he wants to discuss, not now or possibly ever. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Zuko says quietly. Sokka’s expression twists for a brief moment, but he lets it go. “Okay,” Sokka says. “That’s fair.”
It’s a relief not to be pushed outside his comfort zone for once. Zuko berates himself for being pathetic about it, but then his entire life has consisted of pushing from the moment Mother left and there was no one to shield him from the direct force of Father’s harshness and his hatred.
Because that’s exactly it, isn’t it? Zuko didn’t want to see it, but all this time, Father had hated him. All that Zuko had been chasing had been nothing but a mirage.
His eyes and throat burn, enough that Zuko has to drop his gaze from those too-knowing ocean blue eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” Zuko whispers. This time, Sokka doesn’t question him - they both know what he’s talking about. “Everything’s so hard and so confusing, and I don’t know what’s right-”
“-Zuko,” Sokka murmurs. Zuko talks over him. “Maybe I’ve never known.”
His breathing begins to pick up. There’s a moment when their surroundings seem to frizzle out like Agni’s rays fracturing in a snowstorm, but it stabilises. “And now Father’s cast me as an enemy of Fire Nation and left me for dead by my sister’s hand, when all I’ve wanted to do and all I’ve tried to do was to be loyal to him and to our people, and-”
“Maybe being loyal to your father isn’t the same as being loyal to the Fire Nation,” Sokka suggests, voice soft as a turtleduck’s fur, but Zuko flinches like Sokka had tried to hit him.
“How can you say that? I can’t- think like that, I can’t challenge him, my father-” His lungs constrict, and everything feels so much heavier. The sky, previously clear, is now a murky gray, and a loud crack of lightning followed by thunder drowns out the squawk of the turtleducks.
“Hey, jerkbender,” Sokka’s voice is suddenly much closer, “Can you take a deep breath for me?”
Zuko shakes his head. Such a simple thing feels like an impossibility right now. “I- I-”
“Yes you can,” comes the gentle coaxing. “Look, you can follow me,” but Zuko doesn’t think- he can’t-
“Zuko, I’m going to touch your right hand, okay?” Something brushes his wrist gently, and then it’s Sokka’s calloused palm in his own. Zuko watches mutely as Sokka takes his right hand to place over his chest. “Come on, deep breaths with me. In, out. In…”
There’s no way to tell how long they stay like that, just sharing the simple pattern of breathing, but Zuko eventually comes back to himself.
And when he does, he’s full of shame.
“I- sorry.” This was supposed to be a safe space, Agni damn it all. Zuko can’t even be safe here- “I don’t know what happened there-”
“Zuko. Shut up for a second and look at me.”
Zuko looks. Sokka’s eyes are close, so close, his smile too warm and just a little bit sad.
“There is nothing you have to apologise for,” Sokka emphasises firmly. “Nothing. Dude, you literally saved my life-”
“-that’s-”
“- whether it was intentional or not. We needed to have this conversation soon, and honestly, you’re taking it better than I thought you would with the amount of shit you’ve had to go through. You are so fucking brave and strong, Zuko, I wish you could see that yourself.”
“...what…?”
“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” Sokka grins, but his eyes soften and grow serious again when Zuko doesn’t respond to the banter. “Listen, you may not think you know the answer because your mind is telling you different things, but I think deep down, your heart’s already known for the longest time. You only have to listen.”
Zuko blinks. Where had he heard something like that before? “You’re… starting to sound like Uncle.”
“Well, it’s not surprising if he’s wise like me.”
That startles a laugh out of Zuko. Sokka looks pleased. “Seriously, though. For all that you’ve been through, I think you’ve done well. And all you- all any of us- can do is take it one day at a time. And not die. And keep making the best possible choice at any moment, with the information we have at that time.”
“But… I don’t know what that is,” Zuko murmurs a little desperately.
“It’s okay, you can figure it out.” Sokka fidgets, and it’s his turn to look uncomfortable. “Maybe you can travel with us for a little longer, until you do,” he offers.
Zuko turns wide eyes on him. “What?”
“It’s not like we can go very far with the soulbond, anyway.” Sokka’s speaking very fast now, but his words are full of confidence, and Zuko can’t help but think that one day, Sokka would make a very good politician. “Think about it! Your sister’s chasing both Aang and you, so we might as well team up and maybe we’ll stay alive for a little longer, right? You don’t have to agree with us to join us. You can learn a bit more about the world, maybe form your own ideas and come to an answer. How does that sound?”
“...”
“And you can keep training with me, and kicking my ass until I’m good enough not to be kicked anymore. Well?”
Zuko thinks for a moment. Short of throwing himself off the nearest cliff and surrendering his acrobatic instincts, it’s...“It would be my honour.”.
Sokka stares at him. Zuko’s heart starts to pound- maybe it’s still too early for that kind of joke? Maybe it’s inappropriate-
The water tribe boy starts cackling madly.
“Dude,” Sokka crows. “Did you just crack a joke? Did the great jerkbending prince just crack a joke?”
Zuko tries to frown at the nickname, but he can’t help the warmth that spreads inside him as he watches Sokka attempt to breathe around his laughter. I did that. I made Sokka laugh. There’s an upward tug on his lips, and he hesitantly returns the wide grin that Sokka’s throwing his way.
It feels good. It feels really, really good, in a way earning cold recognition from Father never has, and it scares Zuko, because at this point in time he’s just watching this good thing and waiting to see how long it’ll be before it gets taken from him.
“Spirits, that's the best I’ve heard in ages !” Sokka’s still chortling away. “I knew hanging around me would be good for you!”
Okay, that’s a little too much. Zuko gives the other boy a shove. “Don’t get carried away,” he warns.
***
There’s a loud whistling sound in the air. The dreamscape shatters, and Zuko wakes up to an unforgiving world of mist and inferno.
***
The Southern Water Tribe teaches that a hunter’s senses never truly sleep. True to form, Sokka’s up on his feet and slinking back into the shades of the treeline even before he’s fully awake.
“Don’t try running, Prince Zuko. There’s nowhere to go.”
That damn voice.
Zhao’s solid profile is thrown into sharp relief by the light of Tui. Sokka scowls, shaking his head as well as the last vestiges of sleep. He had vaguely hoped General Muttonchop had gotten captured or died by frostbite in the North Pole, but he guesses it’s not to be. As Zhao approaches, Sokka begins to pick out other shapes moving in the fog, but none of them are small enough to be Katara or Aang.
Spirits, I hope they weren’t ambushed .
“We know you’ve been travelling with the Avatar, Prince Zuko.” Zhao very clearly has less advantage of night vision from his position, yet he looks entirely relaxed. “Come on, your highness, we’re not here to hurt you-” Sokka snorts at the obvious lie, “Or at least, you know how much I personally care for you… So if you show yourself and you can behave like a good little boy should, we might find some common ground still.”
Even if he hadn’t been able to see Zuko’s shudder, Sokka can feel the firebender’s overwhelming disgust drifting through their soulbond. A strange kind of protectiveness surges forth, and his extreme dislike of Zhao, seeded from the North Pole encounter, has cemented to become full blown hatred now.
It’s almost instinctive to send a wave of comfort over the bond, even as Sokka’s keen eyes rapidly scan around for an opening or any sign of Katara or Aang. A quick glance backwards towards where they’d set up camp further in makes Sokka curse.
“They’re surrounding us, cutting us off,” He mutters at Zuko, half wondering how much of the darkness Zuko can see with his limited vision. “Think there’s twenty, maybe more.”
From his periphery, Sokka can see Zuko cast a glance around, then up at the trees as if weighing their options. He quickly shakes his head. “We can’t,” he hisses. He doesn’t need their soulbond to guess at what the other boy’s thinking- Zuko’s always been a reckless, think-no-further than two steps ahead, after all. “There’s no shelter on the way up- they’ll pick us off as we climb up the bark.”
Zuko growls like an irritated ottercat. “Then we fight our way out,” he mutters, flexing his palms. Sokka wonders if it’s a good time to remind the firebender that his firebending is currently gone on holiday and out of action, but then he sees the feral glint of those golden eyes and forces the word back down his throat. It’s not like they have many other choices, and Zuko’s hardly helpless without his fire. This is the same guy who’d taken down Pohuai stronghold with nothing more than steel in his hands and made it out alive, after all. “Zhao thinks the Avatar’s the threat. He seems to have forgotten you and I are more than just two people in the way.”
Sokka meets Zuko’s gaze with a lethal smirk of his own. “Let’s remind him, then.” Zuko draws back into the corridor with a nod. “Just don’t do anything reckless, okay? We break their circle then we run for Appa.” Assuming Appa is still alive. Hopefully Katara and Aang are still alive. Given how fierce of a fighter Katara is when she’s mad, and how protective Aang is of her, Sokka’s not too worried. It’s this particular royal reckless idiot that’s most likely to get himself killed. Sokka is not going to let Zhao come close to them ever again.
“On my count,” Sokka says, expecting token protest but encountering none.
Be careful, he hears Zuko’s voice in his head.
Seriously? Sokka gives him the mental equivalent of a snort. Are you talking to yourself?
They take position.
Zuko’s legs take firm root in the strong open stance that firebending demands. Three.
Sokka loosens and aligns his limbs in preparation for the fluidity that waterbending asks. Two.
Lion eyes meet ocean blue. One.
Both boys move at the same time. Sokka steps out to where he has the best vantage point, while Zuko charges directly towards Zhao - which is not part of the plan , what in the Spirits’ name Zuko -
“Are you seriously trying to turn my own ambush against me?” The general laughs derisively, his fingertips lighting in flames. “You’ve never been very bright, but this is even less than what I expected of you, Prince Zuko.”
Sokka has no idea what Zuko’s intending to do, but given that this is the guy who apparently broke into Pohuai stronghold and Agna Qel’a with little more of a plan than ‘ get in, get the Avatar, and get out ,’ he doesn’t particularly want to sit around to find out. This is when Sokka moves. He calls water from the air around him like Katara taught him to, (with admittedly far less grace than Katara has, but hey, Sokka’s new to this, okay?) twisting it around like a water whip to slam Zhao back into the line of fire of his own creation.
General Muttonchop’s voice immediately rises. “There are other waterbenders!!! Get-lurghhh!”
The water that submerges his face makes the next words unintelligible. Ha, guess the prank Sokka had spent half his practice on trying against Katara had some use, after all.
Zuko takes advantage of Zhao’s mini-reproduction of drowning to sweep his legs out from under him so the man falls flat on his ass. Sokka hopes it's enough that he wrecks his tailbone enough to not be able to stand back up again.
There’s some more senseless scuffling around, Sokka moving instinctively to strike any shadowy form as he listens and casts his senses out, keeping himself aware of where the bond tugs in relation to him. At one point he both feels and catches sight of Zuko facing off against three assailants. Sokka moves in to help when the firebender stumbles, but Zuko gets up again and pulls a victory from out of nowhere with some deft maneuvering, and if that isn't an accurate metaphor for Zuko then Sokka doesn't know what is.
Sokka loses himself in the fighting again. Soon enough he glimpses blue tattoos set on pale skin in the crowd and sees water whips lance through the air, and feels a tightness in his chest relax. He darts over to that direction before he can get pulled into another face-off.
Sokka finally regroups with Katara. He has just enough time to wonder where Aang is before Zuko lands with light feet beside them all. In their short time of separation, the firebender’s already managed to get himself a large cut across his one eyebrow, the blood flowing worryingly down his face.
Really? Sokka thinks, but doesn’t verbalise. Zuko can probably hear his exasperation, anyway, going from how the firebender is scowling back at him. “They’re not used to fighting against waterbenders,” Sokka surmises aloud. Katara nods her agreement.“Guess that’s one silver lining of there being so few of us around.”
There’s a stab of guilt at the other end of the bond. Sokka prods at it sharply with the mental equivalent of shooing it away. “Not the time for that! Right now, we can use any advantage we can get!”
Zuko’s glare increases in intensity, but Sokka feels the edge of gratitude in his thoughts before a wall of fire attempts to separate them. Zhao is spitting mad and letting the world know by starting his own inferno, but Sokka’s faced Zuko at the height of his temper and honestly? General or no, the guy’s got nothing on single-mindedly ruthless, fire-breathing princes.
Though the odds are firmly not in their favour, travelling with Aang has exposed Sokka to much worse chances, so he makes the novice mistake of thinking they might actually win this.
Then the little sister from the stuff of nightmares drops in.
“Hello, brother.”
***
“And here I thought I’d finished you off in that stupid library,” Azula drawls, like she isn’t talking about attempted murder of her own blood brother.
“Sloppy of you,” Zuko quips back. Azula will win any and every war of words, but Zuko’s nothing if not a trier. “Better not let Father find out, he hates imperfection.”
Azula hums. “Which is why I will ensure you don’t survive this time.”
“Good luck with that. Surviving horrible things has always been the one talent of mine.”
A giggle. “You’re hilarious.” <like Azula’s tone in the last agni kai between her and zuko in s3.> “Stay still, brother, this will be over quickly.”
One of Zuko’s most cutting memories was when he was around 7 years old in one of the rare spars against Ozai. Father had called him a spineless whelp of a coward , when he’d refused to strike back at a large opening Father had left open. The searing burns he’d received had been less painful than the words uttered. Zuko had vowed never to be a coward again, even if it meant erring on the side of recklessness. He vowed to always take action and to fight back. Save for the one time he stayed kneeling while his face burned away, Zuko had largely kept to that vow- probably to the despair of Uncle Iroh.
All this to say that, when Azula drops in with her fingers lit in blue and the cruel gleam in her eyes, despite the throbbing lightning wound on his chest and the exertion that makes his vision swim, Zuko does not back down.
Father probably never intended for his words to result in this kind of outcome, to be fair. Or maybe, it had always been his desire to pit Zuko and Azula against each other.
“Give up, brother,” Azula drawls, her tone almost coaxing. “Father’s given up on you - there’s nothing left for you to fight for. You might as well stand down like a good little boy and let me kill you off. It’ll be less messy for both of us.”
“No.” Zuko can feel Sokka’s wrath lancing through their soulbond even as he repositions himself and it’s still such a bizarre feeling to have someone angry for him rather than at him that he’s not phased by Azula’s taunting. “You’re wrong. It’s not over until it is.” And I will never give up without a fight.
Azula sighs. You and your hopeless determination, her amber eyes say almost mockingly . There’s something in them that might almost be approval or even sadness, something more than the remnants of judgement.
But they’ve both lost the ability to read each other long ago, and it’s too late to parse through as her smile wipes everything but utter glee.“It’s about to be!” she sings, as the air begins to crackle with static. Graceful fingers arc through a familiar pattern, and Azula spares a moment to say, “Goodbye, brother,” before she sends lightning straight to where Zuko is standing.
Notes:
DrFumbles: My Kitty Luna wanted to help record today! She interrupted the recording (You can hear the outtake here) And she wanted to help record herself.
Chapter 18: The Prince's Gambit
Summary:
Shit. Sokka's mild worry turns to full blown panic.
“Zuko, get out of the way!”
Zuko uses the momentum to throw Sokka towards the more stable side of the ground.
Notes:
A short one this week, but we hope the intensity will make up for it :3
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_Steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 12:34
chapter 18 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Sokka’s the plan guy. Zuko is decidedly not.
Sokka’s the master strategist, and Zuko is the opposite of him. He’s learned that the firebender rarely plans further than two steps ahead and generally approaches things with a ‘wing it and hopefully survive’ point of view. Zhao could not have accidentally soul bonded two more different people if he’d tried.
Except, that wasn’t strictly true. Sokka thinks he and Zuko could actually make a good team out of their differences. See, the nature of plans is that they’re bound to go wrong. So a true survivor must be prepared to improvise said plan.
This is something Zuko is instinctively good at.
A true master strategist understands that finer aspect of planning is anticipating the improvising that might be needed of said plan.
This is something Sokka is amazing at. Put together, he and Zuko could make great work out of their natural inclinations.
That being said, all the improvisations and master planning in the world could not have prepared Sokka for the next little twist in the misadventures of the GAang and the walking incredulity that is Zuko.
Zuko catches the deadly bolt of blue that arcs from Azula’s hands, and throws it to the ground.
It’s the first time Sokka’s seen Psycho Princess look anything other than insufferably victorious and/or angry. Her mouth falls open, her amber eyes (a shade darker than Zuko’s, Sokka’s mind supplements like that is relevant information right now or ever) wide with shock. To be fair, if Sokka had the means to access any reflective surface right now, he’s certain he’d look similar.
“What-?”
Zuko smiles grimly as he stands by Sokka and his friends in a manner that is as protective as it is defiant. “Surprise, Azula,” he announces theatrically, like the drama queen he is.“It’s nice to see you shocked for once.”
Azula’s eyes narrow and she throws another shot as if making sure. This time, Sokka sees clearly what Zuko does. The firebender stands in a wide, loose flowy stance, moving his hands fluidly in a manner extremely unlike his usual aggressive style as he catches the lethal arc and directs it back with only a hint of a stagger.
That’s a waterbending move. That’s a waterbender’s stance.
Sans the water, add in the lightning.
Zuko had clearly been paying more attention to Sokka and his lessons than Sokka had assumed.
“I see,” Azula says, like that one demonstration told her everything she needed to know. Zuko had said she was a prodigy not just in firebending, but wickedly smart in general. Sokka hates that he has to agree with the assessment. Her eyes flicker between Zuko and Sokka. “Looks like both of you have picked up new tricks.” Her tone turns back to mocking, like she’d never been ruffled in the first place.
Without warning she zaps another shot. This time it’s not a focused bolt but a large arc in their general direction, and Sokka yelps as he feels it the heat of it singe his skin even as Zuko catches and redirects it. The movement is noticeably more difficult this time, and Zuko’s already loose stance breaks. It’s then that Sokka notices the blackened fingers.
“As I thought,” Azula says, her tone self-satisfactory. “Every time you do that, you get hurt.” To collective alarm, Zuko doesn’t disagree. She attacks again, and Zuko redirects again, but he’s thrown back several feet.
“So all I have to do to win is to keep going until you break,” Azula finishes, tossing her hair. “I just have to wear you down.”
“Zuko!” Sokka darts forward, maybe to catch him by the shoulders to steady him, maybe to pull him away. but Katara’s firm hand on his forearm stops him. “ No , Sokka,” she hisses. “Do not step there. There’s too much unstable energy in the air right now.”
Sokka knows what she means - he can feel it too, the way the air crackles with static and the promise of violence. Where was Aang? Maybe an airbender could do something to diffuse this? But he can also feel through the soul bond ghostly sensation of throbbing pain radiating from the centre of his chest and new stiffness in his fingertips, and Azula’s next strike promises to be harsher.
“Zuko, get out of the way !”
Zuko shows no sign of having heard. Even his motion this time, while fluid, have a certain mechanical quality to them, nothing like the dynamism that Sokka’s grown used to seeing.
Everytime Azula strikes, Zuko counters but falls back, and they’re forced to fall back with him. Further away is the sound of Zhao shouting and someone fighting him- presumably Aang- but Sokka’s ears are ringing with sound and Sokka’s fingers are tingling with pain. Every time Zuko redirects a splinter of Azula’s lightning, he feels a quick searing agony through his entire system, gone as quickly as it comes but leaving him breathless nonetheless. It’s brief but potent enough to leave an excruciating impression after.
He wonders how Zuko's just standing there and taking it. If Sokka’s feeling phantom shocks of pain, what’s going through Zuko’s body every time he catches Azula’s spark with little more than his fingers?
That can't be healthy for anyone’s nervous system, right?
Then he catches sight of the streaks of red dripping from Zuko’s forearms, and alarm intensifies back with vengeance.
Spirits, Sokka can’t take this anymore.
“Zuko!” Sokka yells. “Stop it!” He tries to reach out through their soulbond, needing to tell the guy to leg it out of there- they’ll find another way out of this, they always do-
But when he stretches out through the mental connection, ghostly fingers tugging at the bond, Sokka’s startled to find
-- he can’t reach Zuko.
It’s like there’s a fog around Zuko’s mind that Sokka can’t get through, a heaviness like dragging his feet through thick snow. Zuko’s there, but it’s like he’s beyond a veil, and Sokka can’t get through it.
Shit. Mild worry turns to full blown panic.
Zuko redirects another strike- this one’s bigger than the last, enough to send him staggering. Sokka lets out a scream through his teeth when he feels the after shock of that blast up his spine.
“Sokka!” Katara reaches for him. Sokka waves her off, because he’s fine, fine, what’s a little lightning? She should be worrying after the jerk not him-
Then Azula’s next cackle is followed by a thundering shot that brings Sokka down to his knees, and the scream locked behind gritted teeth turns into a real one.
For some seconds he’s not aware of what’s around him, only concentrating on breathing through the pain, pain, pain lancing up his body.
Somehow, he feels rather than sees Zuko glancing his way. Then it’s like something clears, because he can hear Zuko’s thoughts clearly again, all his emotions boiling over like water left to steep for far too long in silence-
SOKKA.
Instead of just standing there and taking it, Zuko finally, finally moves out of the way.
***
Logically, Azula’s lightning should hurt, but Zuko doesn’t feel it.
Uncle always fretted whenever Zuko dissociated. ‘Pain serves a purpose,’ he’d said. ‘It tells you what needs changing.’ Granted, he’d been talking about the pain he felt from watching modern tea-making back then, but Zuko had understood for once that the analogy referred more to Zuko’s tendency to get lost in himself.
Zuko knows it isn’t healthy. Zuko also can't control it. It shields him like a drug, and he welcomes the numbness to the pain.
Azula shoots him again, but Zuko can't feel anything. He sees the red streaks as blood begins to drip down his forearms, but he doesn’t feel it. He catches each livewire and sees the crackling path pass from one extended finger to another, but he doesn’t feel it. And it’s strangely liberating and freeing, all at once.
Then he realizes-
Sokka .
Sokka can feel it. Sokka’s flinching, falling back with every step, writhing because he can feel the pain that Zuko’s successfully separated from himself.
And that’s all it takes for Zuko to crash himself back to the present.
He can see the clear amber of Azula’s startled eyes when, instead of catching the next lightning strike, he evades it.
***
Sokka’s ears are ringing. He’s panting harshly and concentrating on just how to breathe -in, out, in, out- when the soulbond thrums, the pain cuts and Zuko’s suddenly there, pressing into his side to support him up.
Sokka instinctively reaches out and pulls the firebender into a half embrace, ignoring the mottled spots of black and streaks of red that stand out against pale skin. Zuko goes completely still, but Sokka ignores it for a moment in favour of heaving great gasps of relief.
You scared me, he tells the firebender through their soulbond, strangely relieved to find his words getting through, unlike the fog Zuko’s mind had been in earlier. Don’t do that again.
“I can’t-”
The air to their left explodes in a crackle of flame and electric sparks, Zuko yanks Sokka back, using his own body as a shield for the aftershock. He spins around, an urgency to his movements that hadn’t been there before. “Can you waterbend right now,” Zuko demands, gold eyes blazing into Sokka’s.
Sokka’s hyper aware of how close their bodies are pressed. “I- what? Zuko-”
“Can you waterbend or not,” Zuko’s voice lowers to a hiss, fingers digging almost painfully into Sokka’s shoulders. “Yes or no?”
“-y-yes, but - what- I didn’t magically lose the ability in the last five minutes-”
“Stranger things have happened,” Zuko muttered, and yeah, Sokka will give him that, but still . “I’m about to do something reckless, and stupid, and when I do I need you to grab Aang and Katara and run, okay?”
“ What? I’m not leaving you-”
“You have to-”
“No!” Sokka shouts, well aware that their respective anger and confusion is amplifying eachother’s through the soulbond, but not in the mood to care or back down, this time. “We can’t get separated, remember? We’re soulbonded!”
And like fuck was Sokka going to leave Zuko back in the hands of the family that had never wanted him anything but dead.
“Sokka.” Two warm hands grip the side of Sokka’s face, forcing him to look into Zuko’s eyes. “We don’t have a choice.” Zuko says fiercely, their soulbond thrums with the force of his conviction. “Azula’s orders are to kill me . If she gets Aang as well, and brings him back to my father, it’s all over .”
Sokka stared at him for a heartbeat. This was it, then. The once-Crown Prince of Fire Nation had declared his side in the war, whether he was aware of it or not.
“Then we cover for Aang and Katara to escape.” Sokka can’t identify the rising swell of emotion in his chest. Maybe… If they both somehow survived this… “I’m staying with you.”
“Azula will kill you.” Zuko grits out. “If Zhao doesn’t take you first for his own means.”
“We’ll face them both together,” Sokka insists. “I’m not leaving you, Zuko.”
You’ve been facing things alone long enough.
Zuko exhales, and Sokka knows he’s close to giving in.
That’s when the ground between their feet explodes. Azula is there, as is Zhao, looking insane and murderous respectively. A deep crack opens, driving a wedge in the earth. Sokka turns to attack, water already spiraling around his arms, but Zuko uses the momentum to throw Sokka towards the more stable side of the ground.
“Zuko!”
Gold meets ocean blue.
Go! Get out of here! If it was possible for a mental voice to crack, Zuko’s did. I’ll be fine!
Then, as smoke rises and Zhao shouts something unintelligible, Zuko slams his mental barriers down. After the relentless background thrumming of another’s thoughts, the sudden silence should have been welcome, but all Sokka can feel and think is wrongwrongwrongwrongggg-
Katara grabs him, and they’re gone.
Chapter 19: This Child Is Not Dead Yet
Summary:
Zhao comes for him, as Zuko had known he would.
In a moment of weakness, he slips into the dreamworld. That turtleduck pond, where dark skinned hands tuck a Fire Lily along with a wild strand of hair behind the shell of Zuko’s scarred ear, the gesture so gentle it hurts Zuko more than if he’d been hit.
Notes:
I want to say Merry Xmas, but this may not be "merry" for this chapter.
Still! happy holidays to those who are celebrating! :D hope you have a meaningful time to recharge with the people you love the most, or alone if that's what you prefer too!
***
PLEASE READ-> POINTS AT THE TAGS-> this is probably the darkest chapter yet. All the implied non con, torture, gaslighting and severe disocciation tags takes place in this chapter. Please take care of yourselves, dear readers and listeners, and skip ahead to the end notes where we summarise if this is triggering for you. In this house we support self-care!If you're still here: hello:3 I would recommend both reading and listening to the podfic version, the sound effects of whispers, thunder and fade out is next level.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_Steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 09:52
chapter 19 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Zuko does not die by Azula’s hand that day.
But he does not live, either, not in the true sense of being alive.
He snarls and spits and fights back, he never gives up without a fight , but then large hands drag him down and poke something into his skin, and Zuko drops .
He thinks of blue eyes, the betrayal and outrage in them clear, and is glad he blocked Sokka out before he was taken, because this kind of pain feels like all his blood vessels and nerves are on fire. Zuko actually kind of thinks he died, just a little.
He blacks out and when he wakes up, Zuko is deep in the bowels of stone and earth, where he can no longer feel Agni’s rays. His limbs are shackled, but even if they weren’t, Zuko feels too diminished and his mind too clouded with whatever drug they’ve administered for him to move.
Zhao comes for him, as Zuko had known he would. Some days he howls from broken bones and agonising burn scars, but those days are preferable to the days he’s forced to scream for other reasons.
Zuko pulls up his mental barriers, and retreats deep within himself.
*
The gold-blue thread of the soulbond continues to glimmer in the dark.
For the most part, Zuko doesn't see it. His eyes may not be blind, but they are sightless to everything except his mind. This is where it’s safest. The soulbond and everything it entails feels like another lifetime, for another boy who had a chance at freedom. Not Zuko.
But some days, the burns, lashings and discomfort is too palpable for Zuko to slip away, and Zuko is dragged back to acknowledge his reality. And it is a terrible one.
These are the days when the thrum of the soulbound gives him some comfort. Every so often, sensations and thoughts drift close enough that it breaks through the surface of the wall Zuko’s put up in his mind. He feels the ghostly impression of warm hands tugging, and desperation drifting from the other end, and dares to think that maybe, someone is looking for him.
Only -
-Zhao’s face is the one that materialises, and the one Zuko recognizes.
*
Sometimes, Zuko dreams.
He dreams of Agni’s rays falling upon a turtleduck pond. Highlighting a wolf’s tail, laughing blue eyes and a teasing smile. Trading Fire Lily and spirit stories. The feeling of acceptance and non judgment. And he dreams of a world where such a reality could have been his.
Zhao mouths at Zuko’s neck, his caress always followed by cruelty, his embrace a mockery of the gentleness Zuko remembers. There is no courtesy here, only demands.
“I’ve missed your body,” Zhao whispers into his skin. Zuko closes his eyes even as Zhao both orders and coaxes them open, and lets himself drift.
He knows it’s a dangerous game, to let himself fade away like this. But awareness comes with the risk of being reduced to moaning and begging for something he is made to feel he wanted, the way Zuko had spent years chasing for even a scrap of father’s approval. Zuko doesn’t want to face the truth of what he’d been reduced to, and so he loses himself.
Rough hands palm at his bony frame, nothing like the tentative but protective embrace from calloused hands Zuko sometimes thinks he remembers. Zuko shivers, and lets himself fade.
*
Sometimes, Zuko thinks Azula visits.
These times are when he’s most certain he’s dead and in some version of his own everlasting punishment. Because Azula visiting makes no sense to him.
Azula was the perfect soldier and daughter. She valued efficiency and hated waste. If she hadn’t carried out Father’s orders and killed off Zuko, that meant she had no more use for him both alive and dead, because even his death didn’t have any function to play in her schemes.
When he asks her one rare day if all this is real, Azula just looks back in the way that tells Zuko she is silently lowering her current appraisal of his intelligence.
“Real or not, you’re seeing and living in it. So that makes it real,” she tells him. “Such a dum-dum, Zuzu.”
Zuko wonders what Azula sees. Wonders whether it was real that her voice had hitched when calling him by his childhood name.
I’m dying , Zuko realises one day. And he welcomes it. He wonders if he might have said it aloud, because Azula’s lips twist, and her eyes narrow the way they used to when they were children and she’d heard something not to her agreement. He wonders which part of his maybe-spoken she disagrees with. Or maybe it’s all of him, like always.
“Don’t be pathetic, Zuzu,” Azula says. “Even a weakling like you should die in better conditions than this.”
I’m dying, Zula. Zuko coughs. Sorry for leaving you alone. He tries to say it aloud, but he’s so weak and dizzy and if he closes his eyes for a bit maybe this will go away.
He’s glad the words don’t make it out of his mouth. Azula will probably be happy to become an only child, anyway.
***
Enough time passes that Zuko’s hair grows into curls falling around his face. Zhao laughs about honor and Zuko’s loss of it. He taunts even as he holds down Zuko’s weakened body in chains. Even as he attempts to make Zuko scream whether from forced pleasure or torment.
Zuko can’t tell which is which anymore.
He doesn’t think he cares.
He lets himself drift further, dreams of a day when honor isn’t upheld in a topknot but in conduct.
***
Dark skinned hands tuck a Fire Lily along with a wild strand of hair behind the shell of Zuko’s scarred ear, the gesture so gentle it hurts Zuko more than if he’d been hit.
In a moment of weakness, he’s let himself slip to this dreamworld. He can hear Aang and Uncle playing Pai Sho in the background, and even thinks he hears Katara and Azula sniping at each other. Sokka grins at him, teasing and fond, and Zuko can’t help but smile back.
In that moment with sunlight falling across the courtyard and illuminating Sokka’s gorgeous blue eyes, Zuko fully realizes the emotion in his heart. And he should back away, he really should, but he has so few good memories and so little left, couldn't he indulge in this dream, just once?
“I wish we could stay here,” Zuko murmurs.
Sokka tugs him closer, threading their fingers together with a tenderness in a way that makes Zuko flush lightly. “Why can’t we?” he asks.
Zuko thinks. “Because…” His thoughts seem to resist the formation of logic. “Because.”
I can’t let you feel this. I can’t let you get hurt, too.
Sokka’s smile fades. “Zuko?”
A dark cloud passes over the sunlit pond. Zuko’s expression slips away, along with his fragile tranquility. The turtleducks squawk and scatter from their mother. Turtuck and Ducktle begin to attack each other. Sokka’s warm gaze morphs to an urgency that wasn’t there before.
I’m sorry.
“Zuko, you gotta let me in.” Zuko lets his fingers fall from Sokka’s and the familiar, unwelcome chill begins to seep in. He feels colder than before. “Zuko, wait! Come back! Let me in! ”
Warmth and color seeps away; cold darkness like the places Agni cannot touch. Zuko shudders, suddenly nauseous.
“That’s it, let me in,” a low voice murmurs. “Does it feel good, my Prince?”
Zuko screams.
***
Zhao wants him humiliated, begging and broken and reduced to less than nothing.
Zuko spits and struggles and fights back until he can’t anymore, then he chooses defiance by fading into nothing.
He thinks Azula approves, even as she continues to tell him off for being weak.
He misses Uncle and his crew and Sokka and even Aang and Katara, and wonders who and what memories of them had ever been real.
The gold-blue thread continues to thrum in the background. Sometimes it even throbs like a physical sensation mapped into his skin, tugging and tugging, but Zuko doesn’t know who it’s calling.
***
Zuko never visits the turtleduck pond again.
Notes:
/peeks out a bit nervously/ thoughts ? comments? didn't want to make it too graphic but at the same time emphasize the fade out nature of Zuko's thoughts
Next chapter: How is Sokka handling this separation of their bond?
If you're here because you read the warning tags and chose to take care of yourselves - I'm proud of you!
What takes place in the chapter is heavily implied rape by Zhao to an imprisoned, tortured, severely weakened Zuko. Zuko dissociates a lot, and tries to find comfort in the turtledock pond conjured by his mind. He meets sokka and is momentarily comforted- until he realizes that what Zhao is doing to him may well affect Sokka. Zuko being the martyr he is violently shuts a desperate Sokka out of the dreamscape. He wakes up from the memory of Sokka's caring hands to Zhao doing unspeakable things to him. Fairly traumatizing to read.
Chapter 20: The Wolf's Interlude
Notes:
This chapter is where we pay more attention to Sokka’s tendency to invalidate his own feelings. Also, ragey Sokka which hopefully makes sense because of his loss.
Stardust/Steel: Little personal note, I hesitate to say this while baby Zuko and baby Sokka are both so clearly suffering T^T but! My birthday is today:3 and my friends have pooled together to surprise me with a turtleduck softie, based on the drawing I did in Chapter 15! I'm so excited - it'll be here in Feb and I can't wait to welcome it! If you're interested, I can post up a picture when it arrives:3 will probably name it Ducktle or Turtuck after Sokka's genius hehe, though some of the names you guys suggested have been appealing too ^^
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_Steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 15:03
chapter 20 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
The first days are hazy, punctuated only by a sense of terrible, terrible loss and pain.
Sokka thrashes, snaps and snarls at any hands that come near.
He thinks he hears a female voice both scolding and crying - “please, Sokka, I’m trying to help you, please let me-”
Worried gray eyes saying - “Sokka, it’s Aang, it’s just Aang-”
But worse of all Sokka sees tortured golden eyes and pale cheekbones being made to bleed. He yearns, and he reaches until it hurts but that golden gaze turns away and splinters into nothing--
***
Five months pass.
At least Sokka thinks it’s been five months, because it’s been five full moons he’s stood under as a worried Katara watched on. Trying to draw from the full moon’s strength, casting and stretching his senses to the point of utter exhaustion. Trying to feel along that gold-blue thread, calling with increasing desperation to call upon the soulbond.
But his soul bonded - the infuriatingly stubborn, reckless, self-sacrificing jerkbender at the other end - remaines silent, unresponsive to Sokka’s call.
***
As much as Sokka wants to tear the continent apart looking for Zuko (and the role-reversal that is the Fire Nation Prince being hunted by team Avatar should have been fucking hilarious, but it really, really isn’t), Avatar babysitting and Aang-wrangling duties continue.
Against all odds, they find an earthbending teacher for Aang. Toph is tiny and obnoxious and the kind of person that solves a problem by throwing a rock at it. She’s unapologetically herself, and Sokka’s kind of glad she’s on the good guys’ side, because he’s pretty sure she’d start a war if there wasn't already one. Sokka likes that her stubbornness and utter willingness to pick a fight reminds him of Zuko on a good day. He thinks the two could get along very well, should they ever get the chance to meet.
The soulbond hums. When they meet , Sokka amends, with renewed determination. A wolf never gives up on its pack.
***
One of the strange, unexpected things that is part of getting to know someone is cataloguing the unspoken inventory of things that make them who they are. Like the specific tilt of their lips when they’re trying not to smile and the dimple of their cheeks, the particular lilt of their laugh, a shout only their lungs could reach, a move only they knew how to execute with perfect form.
Golden eyes haunt Sokka’s dreams, ironically similar but completely different from his childhood nightmares, and Zuko becomes Sokka’s ghost.
***
Some days Sokka trains with Boomerang and waterbends until all his limbs are sore and he has no choice but to surrender to exhaustion. Those pain-filled days are the best days, because he no longer feels like ripping into his own skin.
Wow, is this how angry and wrong and trapped Zuko feels all the time? Sokka wonders as he lies, panting in the dirt. No wonder the guy was always spitting fire and shouting.
Sokka hoped he would be able to see that sight again. Next time, he would march up to him and hug and tease him until the angry turtleduck breathing flame would become docile in his arms.
I am going to be so nice to you, you won't know how to handle it , Sokka swears. Zuko just needs to still be there.
***
“They’re- they’re hurting him, Katara,” Sokka honest-to-Spirits whimpers after he falls to his knees, the sixth time it’s a full moon and he fails to reach Zuko.
Katara soothes him like the siblings had taken turns to do for each other after Mom had died and Dad had sailed away. She soothes him like they were (younger) children again. She doesn’t judge him when he sobs, and doesn’t flinch when he punches the stone cracks of earth until his knuckles bleed. “It’s okay, Sokka, I know.”
“What do you know?” Sokka shouts at her, a clear sign he’d lost his mind because Katara had never been one to let someone talk her down, not even her obnoxious brother.
But her obnoxious grieving brother is a different matter, so Katara doesn’t shout back. She’s always been able to read Sokka well, read when he needs a push or when he needs a gentle hand, and moreso her heart has always been unmatched except possibly to Aang.
“I know you’re angry,” she says kindly. “It’s okay to be.”
The mercy in her refusal to engage in his provocation makes Sokka feel bad, so he tries to reign himself in with a good old attempt at humor. “Sorry, I’m being a drama queen.” Sokka mutters, trying to joke. “Looks like jerkbender's a bad influence on me.”
“Stop that,” Katara says sharply. “You’re not being a drama queen. Stop it, Sokka, you don’t have to put yourself down and hide with a joke.” Sokka flinches at the brutally honest callout. “ Sokka. Look at me.”
There’s no stopping Katara when she gets like this, all righteous and protective over the people she loves, so Sokka reluctantly looks.
“You’re right to be upset,” Katara says adamantly. “You’ve been soul-bonded against your will, to someone who was until very recently an enemy who’s been chasing us around the world- what did you call him once? Some angry jerk with a ponytail ?- and in a very short time, you grew to care for him-”
“-I didn’t”
“-we all grew to care for him,” Katara repeats aggressively, in the familiar tone that implies everyone shut up, or else, so Sokka does. “And then and all this has to happen with Zhao and Azula and Zuko goes missing and now we don’t know if he’s dead or alive -”
“-he’s alive-”
“-or tortured , and it’s awful and scary. Of course you’re angry, of course you’re confused, and it’s okay to hate the position you're in.” Katara rants. “I would, too. I do!”
The clearing falls into silence, broken only by the siblings’ harsh breathing. “I hate him,” Sokka pants, and he doesn’t know if he means Zhao or Zuko or both and himself, too.
“I know,” Katara says. There’s nothing but patient understanding in her blue eyes when she looks at him, and somehow that weakens Sokka’s anger to the point that it manifests as what it actually is: grief.
The next day Toph finds the siblings deep in slumber and continues with a stamp of her foot to put back together the broken slabs of earth like nothing happened. She doesn’t ask, but allows Snoozles to sleep in longer before she goes to disturb him.
(When she finds out the story from Twinkletoes eventually. Toph spares a second to uncharacteristically wonder at the fucked up world she’s in and the trouble-magnet of a group she’s travelling with. She then much more characteristically goes to let it out on some unsuspecting rocks and swindling some roadside bandits.
All in a day’s work.)
***
Seven fucking months of being shut out . Sokka is going to shout at Zuko until both his eardrums rupture as payback and he’s going to rope Katara in too, when they finally find him and undoubtedly bring him back from the brink of death.
Because as much as Zuko keeps Sokka out, he knows. Knows what Zhao and his goons are doing to him, torment shrouded as both pain and cruel pleasure. Knows that they’d be spirits-damned lucky to find Zuko still alive and unbroken at the end of this.
The gold-blue thread of their soulbond thrums continuously. Sokka keeps alternately coaxing and yanking at it, but Zuko’s mental barrier stays formidable and solid like the Fire Nation Prince once was. The literal wall he’s put up makes Sokka want to scream, but at the same time sob with relief, because for as long as it’s there, it means Zuko isn’t dead yet.
Zuko isn’t dead yet , is hanging on like the survivor he is, and so Sokka keeps hanging on to hope too.
***
It’s not a full moon when Sokka gets to glimpse the turtleduck pond again. Two eyes meet, liquid gold on blazing blue. Gold eyes flecked with amber, the same ones Sokka had seen in his dreams every single night for months now. Zuko is gorgeous with a Fire Lily in his hair, a smile that was awkward and shy and just a little sweet playing on his lips. Sokka revels in the warmth of their linked hands.
The smile slips off his face as dark closes in around them. A voice rasps I’m sorry, I won’t let him hurt you, too and Sokka wakes up to his own voice pleading, fingers reaching out to nothing.
It’s dark and the dead of the night, but Sokka has a name for where that darkness is now.
The wolf begins its hunt.
***
Toph snores and sleeps like the dead. Sokka uses this knowledge to great advantage, planning to steal away on Appa without invoking Kata-wrath.
People often forget that for all his twelve living (and a hundred frozen) years, Aang knew a thing or two about tragedy. He spoke that language fluently, weaving through it with a lightness and grace that Sokka honestly envies.
Of all things, it’s a moment of Aang’s levity that succeeds in momentarily breaking through Sokka’s constant grim demeanour.
Aang plants himself down with stealthy airbender feet as Sokka’s saddling Appa in the dead of the night. “No,” Sokka says, even before Aang can open his mouth. “Shoo, go back to sleep.”
“Where are you going?”
“Fishing,” Sokka deadpans. Ah, so apparently as dead as his heart feels, his sense of humor isn’t completely gone yet, good to know. Aang, bless him and all his past lives, plays along.
“Can I come with you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You need to sleep.” Sokka lies through his teeth, like his soul-bonded never could. “Because you need to train with Toph tomorrow.”
“I can train when we come back,” Aang responds.
“No you can’t, Aang.”
“Why not?
Sokka drops all pretense and lets his ire flare. “You know why.”
“You’re not going fishing.”
“No, I’m not,” Sokka hisses. “It’s going to be longer than an overnight trip, and you are not coming with me.”
Aang just looks at him. “Katara’s going to be really upset when she finds you gone.”
“I’ll be back before she knows it.” Sokka doesn't say what he fears: that he needs her to stay here to avoid danger and be in top form, because he doesn’t know what condition Zuko’s going to be in if-when they come back.
Aang looks serious. “I want to rescue Zuko too.”
“It’s too dangerous, Aang. You’re the Avatar, you have a duty to the world.” The only reason they hadn’t yet spent all their time and energy looking for Zuko these months. “If anything happens-”
“Zuko saved me from Pohuai. It’s only right for me to repay that debt.” Sokka doesn’t get the chance to poke holes in that logic because Aang’s next carefully phrased words feel like a punch to Sokka’s soft squishy insides. “I want to regain my honor by paying that debt.”
Low blow, Aang. “Nice try, but no,” Sokka says tiredly. Aang’s face falls. Sokka feels bad, but he’s already being highly irresponsible by putting his own desire above the world’s greater good. He can’t drag the Avatar into it. “Go to bed, Aang. You have a duty to greater good, yada yada. This isn’t Avatar business.”
“But it is Avatar business!”
Sokka throws his arms up. “In what way?”
“Um.”
Aang looks like he’s thinking hard. Then his eyes light up in inspiration. “Oh! Avatar Roku! Wants me- us. To save our grandson.”
Sokka looks at him. Aang looks back.
Sokka squints.
Aang’s expression only grows more earnest.
“What.” Sokka’s pretty sure he’s channeling Zuko now. The memory of the bewildered expression the firebender ends up wearing when exposed to one of the GAang’s antics might have made him chortle once, but all it does now is make Sokka’s heart clench painfully.
***
So, in another twist of the axis of his world, Sokka learns that Zuko and by extension Psycho Fire Princess of the Fire Nation, destined enemy to Avatars and world peace as a whole, is technically a past Avatar’s grandchildren.
Aang’s grinning, probably already plotting to welcome Zuko to his family with a flower crown.
Wait. Does the Spirit semantics mean that Zuko is Aang’s grandson, or his sibling ?
Sokka’s head hurts.
(Better than his heart hurting, at least.)
***
Aang wakes Katara and Toph, because “we’re a team!” and then it’s the four of them against the world, together.
On the flight there, Aang hesitates. “What are you planning to do when you find Zhao?”
Sokka laughs, a humorless grating sound that is nothing like himself. Katara’s lips tremble. Even Toph turns her head towards him, sightless eyes pulled into a frown. “Why are you asking? Are you going to tell me to let that slimy mudball of a motherfucker leave in peace?”
Aang shakes his head. “I’m not telling you what to do,” the airbender says slowly. It’s weird that his quiet words seem to have more gravity in them than Sokka's loud challenge. “Just asking you to think about not resorting straight to murder.”
“No!” Sokka snarls, remembering the ghostly impressions of rough hands, Zuko’s wide, terrified eyes as the sky around them becomes a storm. “It’s less than the motherfucker deserves-”
“It’s not about what he deserves,” Aang says. Sokka feels the wild urge to punch him. “Monk Gyatso taught me that forgiveness isn’t for other people, but for yourself.”
Monk Gyatso can go fuck himself , Sokka almost, almost says, but he’s not as much as a social disaster as a certain, much-missed firebender is, so he just about manages to stop himself. “That’s nice, Aang,” Sokka begins, turning away, “but I’m frankly not interested. I am telling you right now that I might kill him the next time I see him, Aang, and you will not stop me.””
“Okay, Sokka.” Aang’s gray eyes are placid. “Just, make sure you can forgive yourself too.”
Whatever that means. Sokka shrugs. It’s one of those times he realises just why Aang was the Avatar, and Sokka is decidedly not.
He shuts his eyes and reaches again, out of habit. The soulbond hums, but no one answers. Sokka thinks of a dimpled smile, turtleducks in a gentle palm, fire burning from within.
Hold on, Zuko. We’re coming.
Notes:
Stardust_Steel: /goes to hide anxiously/ your feedback for the last chapter on writing had really touched me, despite the unease the chapter was meant to evoke a lot of you commented on the quality of writing, so thank you very much <3 hope you can make the time to listen to the fantastic voice acting on Dr_Fumbles' part as well :3
Dr_Fumbles: If you are listening to the podfic version of this, please let me know! I can't tell from a lot of the comments whether you are listening or reading and I would love to hear from you
Two more chapters to the end of part 1 of this series! Eek!
Chapter 21: Before You Go
Summary:
Sokka watches with horror as Zuko lashes out and writhes away from gentle hands that try to help him. Zuko, whose clothes are wrecked, who has lashes and claw marks and teeth marks all over his body, whose eyes are wild with no recognition in them. Sokka tries to advance slowly and quietly to not spook the firebender, but he can’t help letting out a loud yelp when Katara’s thrown almost viciously back.
“Do not touch me!” Zuko spits and snarls, trashing. “Do not put your hands on me!”
Notes:
Happy new year to all of you! :) hope this coming year brings you all the meaningful success, laughter and happiness you desire.
It's so interesting to see how many commented on the last chapter on how the victim / Suko should be allowed to choose what happens to Zhao, not Aang's pacificm or Sokka's revenge.
Some also noticed the change in tone of writing - the difference between Sokka's breezy, almost dismissive narration to convey how preoccupied he is vs previous chapters. thank you for leaving such nice comments, and for the birthday wishes. onwards to this short but intense chapter...!I didn't have it in myself to go with grace
'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave
-Taylor Swift, my tears ricochet
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_Steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 11:40
chapter 21 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
mirror download on the audiofic archive
Zuko’s broken and damaged and dying. His hair is lanky and sweeps past his shoulders and his body is weakened and wasted away. He’s slowly losing his mind, and there’s not much time before he goes.
He thinks he sees Azula again, just for a moment, amber eyes narrowed as she presses something into his hands and the shackles fall apart. “Don’t be a weakling, brother,” dream-Azula tells him, before she fades away.
Zuko’s broken and damaged and dying.
But the moment the earth rumbles and the mountainside cave splinters apart, Agni’s warmth floods in and Zuko struggles to his feet and fights back.
***
Toph drops a rock on the secluded spot, causes an earthquake and raises chaos, cackling like the little hellion she is. Katara is a tsunami in motion, sweeping her water whips around in the fiercest manner Sokka’s ever seen her, and Aang is storm bending his three elements in a way that toes the definition of pacifism very, very closely. Sokka himself feels like a vengeful spirit, wielding boomerang and water like a natural extension of his body.
It’s lucky that team Avatar has a moral backbone, else the world wouldn’t stand a chance.
Like an orcawolf with a scent to chase, Sokka makes straight for where the soulbond is tugging, screaming at him to come. The GAang - his family- are lethal forces of nature behind him.
Sokka’s riding on nothing but that flimsy soulbond. He hopes that all his yearning the last few months haven’t just been denial of a child unable to accept the loss of a bond that died too young before it had a chance to bloom properly. He hopes this isn’t a wild chase that he’s leading to the team’s demise. He hopes so painfully, so fervently, that Zuko’s made it through.
He hopes.
***
Zuko more than makes it through.
He wakes up spitting dying bits of flame and snarling. Golden eyes blaze and loose strands fly in every direction as he ferociously claws his way through everyone that tries to get near him.
“Back off- No! Do not touch me!”
“Zuko, stop - I’m trying to help you-”
Katara’s plea goes unheard. There’s scuffle and struggle and a lot of not much else making sense. Sokka’s every instinct is screaming at him to just run forward and take Zuko into his arms, but he reigns himself back because this is about Zuko , not him.
I should have looked for him first , Sokka thinks, wonders how much more a heart can hurt.
He watches with horror as Zuko lashes out and writhes away from gentle hands that try to help him. Zuko, whose clothes are wrecked, who has lashes and claw marks and teeth marks all over his body, whose eyes are wild with no recognition in them. Sokka tries to advance slowly and quietly to not spook the firebender, but he can’t help letting out a loud yelp when Katara’s thrown almost viciously back.
“Do not touch me!” Zuko spits and snarls, trashing. “Do not put your hands on me!”
“Toph, don’t ,” Sokka shouts when he sees shackles of rock begin to wrap around Zuko’s hands. “ Don’t do that to him - he’s been imprisoned forever, he’s not going to take that well-”
“Got any better ideas, Snoozles?!” The world must be ending because Toph’s voice is trembling. “If I don't, Sparky here is going to hurt himself!”
Sokka has just enough time to wonder at the new nickname before Zuko realises his movements are restricted and struggles with almost inhumane strength. “No!” Zuko screams, fighting back as his limbs get shackled. “No, you won’t do this again- no, I won’t -”
There’s an awful crack that goes almost unheard amid the chaos, and then Zuko’s lurching forward in an attempt to run, but he only makes it a couple of steps from them before his legs and lungs weaken and he falls to his knees. The firebender’s hands are free from Toph’s makeshift rock bindings but hanging at an odd angle and holy Spirits did he break his own fucking wrist -
Zuko draws in a breath, possibly to torch them, but Toph stamps her foot and entombs the errant firebender head to toe in a rock save for the part of his head above his eyes. They’re forced to hear some muffled whining as Zuko keeps struggling and struggling, before the exertion catches up and Zuko goes deathly still and quiet.
The silence that falls after the chaos is unnerving, even as more rocks and debris fall in around them. Aang looks traumatised. Toph’s small body is shaking as she gestures with her hand to let the stone structure around Zuko collapse. Sokka catches Zuko’s unconscious form as it slumps forward, feeling utter exhaustion as he cradles the limp, too-thin frame and presses his face into the firebender’s temple in a useless attempt at comfort.
“I'm so sorry,” Sokka whispers. Between them, the gold-blue thread of the soulbond vibrates with grief and hurt.
Katara is crying quietly, wiping away angry tears even as she hobbles closer. She reaches for Zuko gingerly, and Sokka almost growls, only letting him go at the last second out of the knowledge that Katara is their best bet at saving his soul-bonded.. “I don’t dare heal him here,” she says, “We need to get out-”
“Watch out!”
“Snoozles, wait!”
Sokka’s up on his feet and running, giving chase, because he knows who that is, knows who’s come to perpetuate his cruelty and escape with his victim.
There’s a cold darkness lurking under his skin, roaring to be let out, and He’s insanely satisfied by the shocked expletive Zhao lets out as he darts forward. He forms several daggers in the air, blunt enough not to draw blood but large enough to cause some serious damage, and hurls them all at Zhao.
YES, take that you BASTARD.
Zhao sputters, trying to get to his feet, but Sokka advances with another sweep and knocks him flat on his worthless ass. The next wave of his hand sweeps Zhao further back.
It’s nothing in comparison to the memory of Zuko’s torment that still haunts Sokka even now in the thick of battle, but it’s a start.
I hope you suffocate until you die, Sokka thinks viciously as he sends another tidal wave crashing point blank to the bastard’s face. In Sokka’s humble opinion, for everything he’s done to hurt Zuko, Zhao deserves a hell of a lot worse.
Shards of rock join his ice assault and Sokka’s so glad Toph is on their side. “Alright Snoozles, where do you want me to drop this,” Toph asks, tone all business. “Just say the word.”
“No! Sokka.” Firm hands pull him back. “Sokka, stop .”
“I want to kill him ,” Sokka snarls.
“I know, Sokka,” Aang says. His arms are around Zuko, his eyes “But they’re going to send more people--”
“I’ll kill them all, Every single one who was okay with this!”
“Sokka, please,” Katara’s voice is almost a plea.“I’m so angry too, but I can’t help Zuko properly like this, not while we’re under attack -”
And in the end, it’s only the thought of Zuko bleeding out with fear and pain being his last memories that makes the cold in Sokka’s veins dissipate.
“Fine,” he says roughly, “let’s go-”
“Wait,” Toph’s sightless eyes widen, “There’s someone-
Zhao shouts something obscene at them, and Sokka’s murder instincts come back alive and ready to absolutely crush him.
But then there’s a thunderclap and electricity in the air and Zhao falls still like a puppet with cut strings, twitching. A figure with black strands pulled into a perfect topknot framing amber eyes stands over his form.
Azula looks down her proud nose at them, high cheekbones and larger than life presence reminding Sokka of a royal progeny from another lifetime.
Her predatory gaze roves over them, but she makes no move to come near. Not even to Aang, who is clutching Zuko’s form protectively. The hampered Avatar and the dying banished prince, two clear, easy targets for the Fire Princess.
“Get out of my sight, peasants,” Azula commands, before turning her back deliberately as if declaring you are of no threat to me .
She darts away.
Sokka wonders why the Fire Nation seems to breed traitors from within. Wonders what it is about Zuko that seems to inspire people to either want to kill him or kill for him like this. wonders if Zuko would find it amusing if he ever voices his thoughts.
Zuko would glare and punch him, more likely.
Spirits, Sokka hopes he will.
***
When they’re safely on Appa, Sokka becomes Katara’s main obstacle to the healing process. He hauls Zuko until the other boy is pressed flush against him, until he can feel the pressure of Zuko’s too-thin frame, the stuttered breaths, the solid ba-thump that tells him Zuko’s alive and whole and safe even if not necessarily okay .
Finally, finally the too-tight feeling in Sokka’s chest that has been constricting him for months starts to ease.
He shifts so that their foreheads touch. That’s when he realises that though half-lidded with pain and drowsy with exhaustion, those beautiful golden eyes are open and looking back into his.
“Hey,” Sokka whispers, stroking Zuko’s lanky hair. It’s so much longer than he remembers, and that makes him ache all over. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, buddy.”
There’s no response, and for a moment Sokka feels fear lance through him. Was Zuko too far gone? Was his mind broken? He reaches out desperately through their soulbond. He thinks of boomerangs and fire daggers; dimpled, shy smiles; turtleducks and fire lilies and hand to hand sparring in the sunlight.
Please please please, I’ve barely gotten to know him, it can’t die before it starts please-
Please, Zuko, please-
“...So..kka.”
The voice is horrible and raspy not in the attractive sense but in the way of someone who’s been screaming too loud for too long, but it’s Zuko . Sokka nearly cries as he hugs the other boy tighter, Zuko starts hacking a horrible cough into his shoulder. If there are broken little sobs in between, that’s for only him and Zuko to know.
“Hey, sunshine, you’ve been really missed.” Sokka strokes the base of the other boy’s neck in a way that’s meant to be comforting, but Zuko’s trembling a lot harder all of a sudden, and memories of despicable touch both cruel and unwantedly pleasant drift freely through their soulbond. Horror dawns, and Sokka loosens his grasp but doesn’t let go completely because he needs this too. “Hey, hey, easy there,” Sokka whispers.“Breathe with me.”
He sends strong feelings of protectiveness and images of turtleducks and soft cute things through their soulbond. He even tries with all the jokes with the hilarious punchlines Katara calls stupid but Sokka knows are brilliant because Sokka is brilliant.
‘What do they call a man who firebends in the South Pole? … A hotman!’
There’s no response from the other end, but it must work a little, because he feels Zuko’s smile against his collarbone.
“I’m taking us to the Western Air Temple,” he hears Aang tell a questioning Katara. “It’s where the monks used to take the injured to heal, because there’s a lot of open space and tranquility.”
“Alright Snoozles, take us straight there,” Toph says. “No chasing any butterflies.”
Aang looks around. “What butterfly?”
Katara laughs weakly, and for the first time in a long time, Sokka thinks they might just be okay.
Notes:
Eep. was super nervous to drop this chapter ><
The next/final chapter is the longest and the most hurt slash comfort. Look forward to it...? we think..?After that... Part 2, HEART BOUND to come :D
Chapter 22: Zuko and Sokka
Notes:
Stardust_Steel: When I started writing this I seriously considered how to write in in such a way that Fumbles would have an enjoyable time podficcing to do justice to their very talented voice acting and editing of effects etc. We were in frequent contact (I mean daily talking etc) and generally chatted not just about the fic but the entire fandom. I initially decided to pull out of the podfic event because work was overwhelming as a management consultant (7am - 1am daily with one hour breaks, and only Sundays were mine to use as I pleased) but Fumbles said we could start with just one chapter and she really wanted to see this premise. Being sweet on her, I agreed hehe. In the end - 22 chapters of podfic for your reading and listening pleasure! XD
Chapter Text
Read by: Dr_Fumbles_McStupid; Written by: Stardust_Steel; Cover art by: TheRisingWing
Length: 35:34
chapter 22 mp3 (Right-click to download normal click to stream)
M4B of entire series 06:03:04
mirror download on the audiofic archive
The hardest thing about helping a loved one heal through trauma is picking up the pieces after.
Healing is not a linear process, Katara keeps reminding them all. Sokka knows this. But knowing and understanding are two very different things, and often you can only understand while you’re actively going through it, not before and not even after.
Over the next few days Zuko drifts in and out of both consciousness and recognition of where he is and where they are. It’s hard to watch.
***
The first time, Aang’s taken Sokka aside at Katara’s bequest to force feed him, even politely making allowances for seal jerky meat in his bowl. It’s taking time, but some of Sokka’s appalling sense of humour has returned upon he and Zuko’s reunion. There’s more life to the Water tribe boy, a vitality that’s been scarily missing the last seven or eight moons, a spark that only lit once Zuko was in his embrace again.
Aang wonders if Sokka understands yet what it implies.
“How far along are you in your earthbending training?” Sokka asks, as he pokes at their campfire. Aang recognizes the look of a Sokka in planning mode, like a Pai Sho master deciding their moves on a board three steps ahead. It’s something he hasn’t seen in a long time, and so inwardly he cheers.
Aang opens his mouth to answer, but whatever he’s about to say dies in his throat as they’re distracted by the unmistakable wail of someone in pain and terror.
Sokka immediately bolts, weapons and dinner forgotten. Aang has never seen him move that fast.
The sight that greets them when they enter Katara’s healing quarters is distressful.
“Let me go, don’t touch me, just let me go,” Zuko begs nonsensically as he struggles against the solid rock shackles that encase all his limbs. Katara has tears streaking freely down her face as she works to help, as Toph stands over them both, looking broken-hearted.
Aang can’t stand the stricken look on Sokka’s face. “Did you absolutely have to chain him down?”
“Sorry,” Toph mutters in a very uncharacteristic apology. “He was thrashing around so badly, Katara couldn’t work.”
Sokka absolutely refuses to leave Zuko's side after that. “We are not holding him down again,” Sokka says, eyes burning like he’s channeling a certain firebender, and no one challenges him on it.
***
“What’s the verdict on Firestarter?” Toph asks Katara (She’s still trying to find a good nickname, okay, she’s barely spoken two words to the guy.)
“Yeah, will Zuko be okay?” Aang asks. The three of them watch as Sokka keeps vigil, murmuring something to the pale, shrunken form as he attempts his own small bits of water healing, before leaving to give him some privacy.
Katara sighs. “Physically, it’s going to take a long time, but he will be okay.” She hesitates. “Mentally, I don’t know. It’s… a lot.”
Katara doesn’t want to break these two twelve year olds’ innocence, like hers has, and tell them the evidence of what she knows.
She thinks it’s telling that Zuko seems strangely placid under her healing palms when the practice requires inflicting some form of pain to recover, like rebreaking bones to set them, but fights and snarls backs in confusion like a weak kitten when it’s just gentleness he encounters.
Zuko has a long road to recovery, and in a way, if what her eyes and heart is telling her is true, so does Sokka.
Because her stupid, cyncial big brother is just the kind of person to forget to take care of himself while he’s busy taking care of everyone else, walking off a self destrctive ledge while making sure everyone else is safe from harm, and Tui and La but Katara loves every inch of him to bits for it.
In some ways, she can see how Sokka and Zuko are similar to each other.
I’m going to help them both recover even if it kills me, Katara vows.
***
Zuko dreams of kind blue eyes framed by a wolf tail looking worriedly down at him, gentle hands brushing his longer hair away from his forehead, cool water wrapping around the searing scars all over his body.
He dreams of muttered pleas and whispered affection, and the gold-blue thread humming in the distance.
Who knows if this is real or something he’s made up, but even if it is he wants to cling to the illusion, even if just for a while longer.
***
Two steps back, one step forward.
This is how we overcome our hurt.
***
Zuko wakes up with a scream in his throat and fire dancing on his fingertips.
“Zuko-”
There are hands around him, holding him loosely, and Zuko thrashes because proximity only brought pain and kindness was a cover for imminent cruelty-
Zuko, Zuko, it’s just me- you’re okay-
That voice. Zuko freezes, when he realises that hadn’t been verbal, but a thought relayed. Which meant… but it couldn’t be...
...Sokka..?
Zuko- sags, as the gentlest sensation of something wrapping around him, not demanding, just giving.
Sokka laughs wetly. “Oh, thank the Spirits.” It’s a choked off sound, nothing like the clear glee Zuko remembers the Water Tribe boy capable of expressing, but it’s undeniably him. “Thank all the spirits -I think your fever’s finally broken through.” He reaches to brush a strand of Zuko’s hair away from his eyes, and Zuko's heart begins to beat faster and faster.
He remembers this gesture, remembers the tenderness that came with the Fire Lily in his hair and and yearns for it-
But the moment Sokka’s fingers brush Zuko’s face, the memory of sharp smiling teeth glimmering in the darkness and crooning false praise slams in. Zuko yelps sharply and scrambles backwards, pressing his back against the bed.
“Zuko, what’s wrong?”
What’s not? Zuko thinks, as terror threatens to choke him. Sokka’s gentle caress overlaps with the memory of larger, greedy fingers, and Zuko wants to scream and run and maybe die just a little bit.
Sokka looks absolutely broken-hearted now, as he searches Zuko’s eyes for something.
It makes Zuko wonder how much the other boy knows, how much he’s seen of the damage Zuko’s sustained. Zuko had done his best to keep Sokka mentally shut out from the worst of the beatings and the other things, but he has little to no control over his mental barriers right now, and his emotions are drifting freely.
“I’m sorry,” Sokka says quietly.
“What for?” Zuko bites out, not sure if he wants to know. Breathe, breathe.
For touching you without permission, the next words come through in his mind, and Zuko goes white.
“Zuko!” Sokka looks even more alarmed than before, and Zuko registers to some level that he must have stopped breathing. “Zuko- Let me get Katara-”
“No!” Zuko cries out aloud, shooting upright so suddenly that it startles both of them. His back is suddenly on fire as the healing wounds reopen, his throat feels dry and hoarse with disuse, and his heart is hammering faster than a fire ferret’s wings in this chest. “No, please - don’t, I can’t-”
He doesn't say the next words, that he can’t handle someone touching him right now, but he hopes Sokka understands.
Sokka exhales, and Zuko immediately braces himself for the ire that’s surely about to come. “Okay,” Sokka says. “Okay. Won’t get anyone else, got it. Um. Can- can I come closer?”
Zuko thinks about it for a second, then nods. Sokka scoots closer in a way that’s almost endearing. Zuko waits for the tension to return, for his body to lock up, but his breathing stays normal and his mind stays present, in spite of or maybe because it’s Sokka coming near. Even so, he brings his knees to his chest even as it pulls at all his healing wounds, trying subconsciously to make himself smaller.
He can feel Sokka’s thoughts lancing with sadness and wants to bristle, because all this pity is something Zuko doesn’t want. Thankfully, Sokka doesn’t comment, only stopping at a respectable distance away.
“How are you feeling?”
Zuko levels a flat look at him. Sokka laughs a little. “Uh, stupid question, sorry. Um.” Sokka plays with the bedding as he casts for a subject. Zuko watches those fingers, remembering how gentle they had felt against his hair, like Zuko was someone precious and cared for, and he yearns --but he makes himself forget. “Um, are you hungry?”
“It’s the dead of the night.”
“That’s not an answer!”
“No.”
“Not even a little? We have these delicious little soups-”
“No.” Even replying as much takes a lot out of Zuko.
Sokka seems to sense this, biting his lip. “Okay, then. Not hungry.” His eyes sweep over Zuko’s huddled form. “Well… it’s the dead of the night, and Katara said you’re not supposed to overexert yourself… lie back and sleep time?”
The words make Zuko nauseous for some reason. “No.”
Just to be contrary, he tries to rise to his feet instead, and the world immediately fractures into a prism of colours.
“Zuko-!”
It’s an eternity and not at all later that he finds Sokka supporting his weight. Zuko wants to push him off, because those fingers are making him feel crawly things up his spine, but at the same time it’s Sokka , whose presence is possibly the only comfort Zuko can draw from.
“You shouldn’t be going anywhere right now,” Sokka’s saying, half supporting, half carrying Zuko back.
“Shut up, I’m fine,” Zuko growls. He is so sick of being treated like a fragile pet.
“Hate to break it to you buddy, but you’re very not.”
Golden eyes narrow. “I am fine!!! Why won’t you believe me?!”
“ Because , you stubborn idiot, you look like you’re going to keel over.” Sokka says, as fond as he is exasperated, gently pushes Zuko down by his shoulders. “Honestly, I have no idea how you’re still standing right now.”
Zuko bristles at the implication of weakness. “Stop babying me!”
His anger is stopped by the gentlest touch to his mind, like seeking permission. After so long of being violated, the kind courtesy makes Zuko’s eyes fill up in the most horrible way.
Sokka is honestly so exhausted he can almost sob with it, and right now he is wayyy too dazed to cope with Zuko’s stubborn nature. He gives up looking for the right words and just whispers: “Please, Zuko?”
Zuko looks at him, really looks at him, and something in his face softens.
He allows himself to give in, but watches Sokka suspiciously until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. Sokka looks hurt, but. Well, Zuko can't help him right now.
***
It becomes a pattern. As Aang and Toph and Katara train and get stronger, Sokka and Zuko have their own battle to fight.
They do make some progress. Zuko spends a lot of time sleeping as his weakened body recovers from months of being deprived of sunlight and nourishment. He’s able to trust Sokka to be around him now, and actually wants his presence. When he wakes up screaming, Sokka is always there to comfort him, even as he gets pushed away.
One particularly horrible time, Zuko’s still shaking, so it takes a moment before he’s able to feel the lightest brush against his mind, seeking and attentive.
He flounders for a bit before slamming his mental barriers down. He then turns his best, most impressive scowl on Sokka.
...Who doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “You know at this point that all that glaring is pretty much an invitation to hug the shit out of you, right?” Sokka asks him.
Zuko’s frown deepens. “That’s not -”
“Aha! Glare intensifies, meaning desire for hug intensifies!” Despite the bold words, Sokka pauses just long enough to make sure Zuko’s actually okay with it before proceeding, a courtesy which touches Zuko in the most painful ways.
Warm arms encircle him, and Zuko lets it happen without much fight because Sokka’s taken the care to clearly state and telegraph his intentions, and fine, it’s-- it’s kind of nice to have this.
***
Then there’s the times when their progress slips backwards.
“Did… was Azula there?”
Sokka looks up carefully. Zuko isn’t looking at him. Sokka knows from experience that this is because Zuko is the worst of all liars and wears his heart on his sleeves, so he’s taken to avoiding looking people in the eye when he wants to hide what he’s feeling the strongest. It’s actually pretty endearing.
“She… we saw her,” Sokka says, wondering if it’s safe to tell Zuko about Azula’s passiveness to them. “Can I know why you’re asking?”
“I dreamt about her sometimes. And -She’s my sister.”
She also tried to kill you multiple times, Sokka almost says, but doesn’t. He guesses for Zuko that’s par for the course of his family members.
They haven’t talked about any of it, about the trauma or this thing between them, and Sokka's trying but he's not sure what Zuko knows or remembers and Zuko’s not helping like the little shit he is. It’s frustrating, because Sokka can feel just how not-okay Zuko is. It’s escalating, and Zuko keeps spiraling deeper and Sokka’s not far behind him. One night, they’re pushing at each other so badly that their shout echoes off the temple walls.
“Why did you save me?”
“What?”
Zuko tries to keep his tone aggressive, but his voice is a raspy whisper of the strength it used to project. “Why did you come for me?”
“What-” Sokka looks shocked. Zuko registers that his side of the soul bond has sputtered to a stop and wonders why. The water tribe boy sputters as he finds his words.“Now who’s asking stupid questions?”
“I don’t know-”
“Of course I- of course we’d come for you! How could you even think-?!”
Zuko has no sense of current time, but his hair is long like it hasn’t been since he was unscarred, and his body is weaker than he ever remembers being, and Sokka’s jawline has grown sharper. “I was there for months, and you didn’t come.” It’s Sokka’s turn to flinch, and Zuko vaguely wonders what part of him was so damaged that he had to keep damaging other people too. “So I thought-”
“What, that I’d abandoned you? That I’d just leave you behind?”
“I-” Zuk’s words feel clumsy, but he’s trying to find the words to explain that to abandon something they had to belong in the first place, and Zuko didn’t, so of course Sokka -
“I was looking for you!” Sokka shouted, and Zuko jumped. “I kept searching for you, all this time! Every night, every full moon! You shut me out!”
“Sokka-” Zuko both shrinks back and tries to stop himself from doing so.
“I kept reaching through our stupid sulbond, I kept coming to that turtleduck pond, I kept breaking my brain trying to find you but eveytime I reached you you just kicked me out- “
“I didn’t want you to feel what they did to me.”
Maybe it was Zuko’s sudden quiet admission, more honest than he’d been in months, but Sokka’s anger drained away like water joining the riverbed. “I know that. But-”
“The soulbond was against our will.” Zuko mutters, looking away. “I didn’t want you to get hurt and… and break,” he whispers, “just because I was.”
Sokka rubs his eyes.“Did it ever cross your mind that I wouldn’t want the same?”
“Too late,” Zuko smiles, self-loathing surging up like his fire isn’t. “Father already made me broken goods.”
“You aren’t-”
“Sokka,” comes a murderous voice. “You’re upsetting my patient.”
If looks could kill, Katara would have been guilty of fratricide several times over by now. It’s Sokka’s turn to be slightly terrified. “I didn’t mean to,” Sokka says, trying to communicate I’m trying to help with his eyes.
His sister looks wholly unimpressed.
“Stop whatever it is you’re doing, then,” Katara orders, her tone heavy with disapproval and disappointment. She sounds like the faded memory of the rare times mom was upset when she’s like this, and it makes Sokka drop his head. “Zuko needs rest, not… this.”
Sokka’s grateful that she doesn’t touch on what she’d undoubtedly heard the both of them shouting at each other. Amazing, tactful, extremely scary Katara, Sokka couldn’t ask for a better sister.
Unlike some people. It makes him think of Azula, and the little forlorn look Zuko had in his eyes when he asked about her earlier. He turns his gaze back to Zuko, who’s chosen to look away from them both and stare at the opposite wall venomously instead.
At least that’s a familiar expression Sokka can work with.
Sokka wilts. Just for that night, he’s reached the end of his rope with Zuko, so he makes to turn away.
He doesn’t see the fear that spikes in Zuko’s eyes, but he feels it through their soulbond, and his heart just hurts again.
Sokka hurriedly sends a wordless comforting hum through. I’ll be back. I’m not leaving you alone.
Zuko clings to it, even as the demons of his mind pull him down.
***
Zuko’s taken to fidgeting. This is something that comes naturally to Sokka -when his mind is active and going a million different directions, it is natural for him to Tap-tap or drum his fingers or bounce his foot. Zuko, however, ever the overachiever, takes it a step farther and gouges into his palms and knuckles when he’s lost in stormy thought.
Sokka doesn’t prod into them out of respect, but he gets drifts of despair and pain behind the constant scowl, and it makes him just want to wrap up this fierce little turtleduck and carry him far away.
Some days the slightest proximity makes Zuko tense and back away, and Sokka’s forced to just sit and watch and pretend his soulbonded isn’t subconsciously harming himself. Some days, like today, Sokka’s allowed to gently uncurl Zuko’s fidgeting, (self-hurting ) palms and just -hold them. He draws little patterns on them, a not-uncomfortable silence falling between. The quiet permission and fragile little trust makes Sokka giddy as much as it makes him worry.
An idea is starting to form in his mind, but honestly, Sokka’s still figuring this out.
“So,” Toph says with little preamble, plonking herself down beside them inquisitively and making them both jump. “You’re Snoozles' boyfriend.”
The careful, fragile gravity in the air is quickly dispelled to something much lighter.
“Toph!” Sokka does not shriek, thank you very much. He’s just… testing the limits of the octaves he can reach.
“Oh, is it not official yet?” Toph asks blithely, poking at a toenail as both boys stare at her in mortification. “I’m making it official, then.”
“ Toph, ” Sokka repeats in a much more sedate, strangled voice.
“Your heartbeats go crazy around each other, I’m just speeding up the process.”
Zuko’s gone that pretty pink again. Sokka completely approves of the way he expertly dodges the issue, this is really the man of his dreams.
“Um, hi,” he tries. “Zuko here.” A pause. “Heartbeats?”
“I’m blind,” Toph informs him, matter of fact. Zuko blinks, shocked. “I can feel your heartbeats to tell where you are.”
“Oh. Um.” he tries. “That’s… nice.”
Toph grins. “Thanks. You’re pretty cool, too.”
“I’m not, actually, I’m a firebender,” Zuko says, completely serious.
Toph’s smiling. Sokka sees how she makes as if to punch him and thinks better of it, and is immensely grateful. “Well, I can tell. You fight good even half-dead.”
Zuko looks taken aback and slightly awkward. “Um, thanks, you too?”
Toph laughs. Sokka watches this entire exchange in increasing fascination and amusement. “Sorry for breaking your wrist,” she says, and Sokka tenses.
“You did? When?”
“Well, technically you did it to yourself, but I made it possible. Wait, you don’t remember?”
Zuko’s silent for a bit. Sokka holds his breath. “I don’t remember much of what happened.”
Toph ignores the sudden tension in the air and moans. “Aw, Sparky.” Zuko gives Sokka a wide-eyed look at the nickname. Sokka shrugs. “I can’t believe you forgot! That was a bonding moment for us!”
“...un, sorry…? Should I be the one apologising?”
Watching Zuko learn to make friends like a newborn baby turtleduck is as hilarious as it is cute, but Sokka thinks this is a great segue for them to talk about the Important Stuff.
“So,” Sokka says carefully, “you… don’t remember much of the last few days? How about… the last few months?”
He wants to smack himself when Zuko’s gaze falls away and the familiar pinch to his eyes.
Sokka reaches out slowly to link their fingers together, telegraphing each move. He makes sure to give a lot of time for Zuko to pull away, and is so, so very happy when he doesn’t.
Sokka wants to do so much more, to touch Zuko and feel him to be real and alive underneath his fingers - but now was not the time and place for it.
Katara’s outdone herself - save old callouses, Zuko’s graceful hands look almost unmarred, nothing like the blackened lumps they were when he’d been found. Sokka thumbs across a knuckle gently, remembering how it had calmed Zuko in that place with the turtleducks.
Zuko swallows. “I. I’m.”
“It’s okay,” Sokka says gently. “You don’t have to talk about it.” He ruffles the other boy’s hair gently, realising too late how familiar the gesture is. Oh well. The stunned look on Zuko's face is priceless. “It might just be good to let it out to someone, sometime. I’m told talking helps.”
Zuko opens his mouth, closes it again, then very predictably deflects and goes Zuko-style offense. “Do you ever take your own advice?”
“Nah, they’re for other people.”
“So we’re both idiots.” Zuko’s tone is one of challenge.
Sokka doesn’t rise to it, instead folds his other hand over their linked palms. “Excuse you, I’m the plan guy. By definition, that means I am not an idiot.” Toph snorts. “But feel free to keep calling yourself one.”
Zuko scowls. “Uncle says the idiot thinks himself smart and the wise one knows himself to be a fool. Or… something like that.”
“Don’t sound very sure of yourself there, Fireboy.”
“I’d rather be dumb and aware than dumb and arrogant, Water Tribe.”
“Quit flirting, you two,” Toph interjected, grinning widely when both boys sputter. “Man, this is fun. You guys are so easy to tease.”
“Toph-”
“Maybe I should stop causing fights and set people up instead. You two lovebirds can be my first success story.”
“ Toph,” Sokka moans, as she cackles on.
***
Things are still the same between Zuko and Sokka after that, no more than their usual awkwardness, which upon hindsight Sokka thinks should be telling them something, but hey, don’t poke the sleeping dragon and all.
The firebender is getting stronger by the day, little echoes of his fire returning. Sometimes Sokka sits by him as he meditates, and catches sight of Zuko’s flames flickering in different colours. He’s not sure if it’s a trick of his mind, so he’s holding his tongue for now.
Even so, Zuko is a bad patient and keeps trying to fidget or stretch or move much to Katara’s consternation.
“You’re as bad as Sokka is when he’s down!” She’d bit out.
And Zuko had replied, utterly seriously with some confusion, “But... Sokka is a good person.”
The memory of Katara telling it still makes Sokka smile.
Still, Sokka thinks maybe he can do something to help alleviate the restlessness Zuko throws off in waves, so he puts his craftmaking to good use.
“Hey, Zuko.” The firebender looks up from where he is stretching out. His scowl is ever present, but his liquid gold eyes fleck with a little bit of happiness, and Sokka can’t help the warm glow that spreads through him- that’s high compliment from someone who more often than not glares at the world like it’s going to hurt him. “I made something for you.”
“What, a way to escape Katara?”
Sokka holds out his palm, eyes solemn. “It’s you.”
In his hand is a little wooden carving of a small turtleduck figurine.
Zuko blinks.
Sokka waves the carved turtleduck around. He’s purposely made it bumpy and uneven (“yes, Katara, that was a purely professional decision,not his clumsy hands, shut up”) so that it might be the perfect fidget toy. “Hello,” Sokka animates, trying for a raspy voice, “Zuko here!” <to fumbles,suggestion if we wanted we could voice record zuko’s actual voice actor and put it here as an audio surprise for listeners>
“Shut up.”
“I’m an awkward turtleduck!”
“Shut up .” But Zuko’s lips are twitching a little, and his face is growing warm, and there’s a feeling growing in his chest that’s almost too overwhelming to focus on so he doesn’t bother.
Sokka grins, clearly delighted that Zuko’s both trying and unable to stop himself from smiling. He reaches for Zuko’s palm and Zuko allows it, the pressure tingling through his skin as Sokka places the tiny turtleduck there. Sokka takes Zuko’s other hand and places it upon the figurine, so he can feel all its ridges and rough textures.
“There,” Sokka says softly, as his teasing smirk becomes more gentle.
He’s so close.
Lightheartedness gives way to something more intense as both boys find each other's eyes and get lost there. Sokka’s searching Zuko’s face, his ocean blue eyes twinkle with impossible affection, and Zuko finds that he can’t look away. There’s a gentle caress against his cheek, Sokka’s smile is even gentler than his fingers, and the world narrows down to just the two of them at that moment.
The soulbond is humming, more electrified than Zuko remembers it being, pleased. Zuko , Sokka asks through the soulbond. Can I…?
Yes. Zuko answers, suddenly desperate to feel more of Sokka. Please, yes.
They’re close enough that Zuko feels warm breath on his lips. Zuko has time to think, this feels nice, this feels safe, before lips brush chastely against Zuko’s in a gesture that feels more loving for its chasteness.
It’s Sokka’s way of asking for permission, Zuko realises, painfully touched. And that’s all it takes for Zuko to melt against Sokka as the other boy presses more fully against him. Sokka’s hands move to tangle in his hair gently, and Zuko follows a natural instinct to tilt his head so they fit against each other just right.
This feels nothing like the rough demanding touch of unwanted hands and Zuko can let go because Sokka cares about him and Sokka is safe .
Sokka nips his bottom lip teasingly and smiles into the kiss when Zuko lets slip a gasp. It feels safe and delicious and good and there’s a warmth unlike his inner fire, lighting him from within.
They part for breath but thru foreheads stay pressed against each other’s. Sokka’s hand moves to caress Zuko’s cheek, and he’s smart enough not to comment on the wetness he finds there.
“Okay?” Sokka asks, his beautiful blue eyes -fast becoming Zuko’s favourite colour-furrowed a little in concern. Zuko just nods against his forehead, not trusting himself to speak just yet. All the feelings are just too big for his body right then.
Sokka must understand, because he murmurs something soft and his other arm tightens its hold on Zuko. Their lips find each other’s again, and Zuko just allows himself to get lost in feeling and not having to be more than he is.
Someone clears their throat, and both boys snap back like they’ve just been shocked. Katara’s watching them both with an exasperated sort of fondness and an aura that implies ‘ you two are idiots, but you’re mine. ’
“Maybe, close the door, next time,” she chides gently, setting the dinner for the day. “I’ve had to really hold Aang back from making you two flower crowns, you know.”
Zuko seems to be reeling from the implications of that, but Sokka frowns, not as enlightened. “Flower crowns?” Sokka asks.
Katara’s grin looks a little more evil now. Sokka’s aware of Zuko scooting a little closer. “Apparently it’s something the Air Nomads-”
“-used to celebrate and commemorate their betrothed,” Zuko finishes like he’s reciting, once again getting Sokka's seal of approval for expertly dodging the issue at hand. “I know, I read it when I was hunting for the Avatar.”
There’s a beat they all stare at each other. Sokka can’t couch for Katara, but he knows he and Zuko are thinking the same thing.
How things have changed.
Sokka laughs. “His name is Aang,” he chides.
***
That night, Zuko curls into the little space Sokka’s carved out for him, forehead pressing into his collarbone, arms looping lightly around Sokka’s shoulders. The amount of trust in this gesture makes Sokka feel all squishy, and Sokkas not exactly the most touchy feely himself so he hopes Zuko understands the significance of this goes two ways.
Zuko’s warm like Sokka’s personal heater, his own little Sunshine (and Sokka can’t get over it, how Zuko reacts with a squeak or a flush anytime Sokka as much as calls him that nickname even in the privacy of their soulbond. It’s adorable and Sokka is never ever going to stop monopolising it.)
What are we, Zuko asks him mentally as he tucks his head in, because he’s learnt it’s easier for them to be honest with each other through the soulbond.
What do you want us to be? Sokka asks back, pressing a light kiss to his temple. Because it’s been some time coming, admitting his feelings for the other boy, but there's no point denying it anymore. Sokka would take anything this touchy firebender is willing to give.
In response, Zuko tilts his head up and kisses him lightly.
They stay that way for awhile, exploring how they fit against each other, but they don’t go further that night. Neither of them are ready for such things. The embrace continues to remain chaste and unhurried- there is plenty of time for more later.
Of course, Sokka wants to touch him and cherish him and make Zuko come alive under his hands, but they’re still children who have a war to fight.
Besides, they’re still learning their way around each other, how they react when angry or upset or happy, and those moments are just as important as any physical intimacy. Sokka lets Zuko set the pace because every single piece is a gift Zuko’s chosen to give, not something to be taken for granted.
Dawn grows stronger with the promise of another sunrise, and Zuko leans towards it even in his sleep like a Fire lily facing the sun.
Sokka’s usually the one dead to the world at this time, but he doesn’t hold it too hard against Zuko who clearly needs the beauty sleep to recover, and has finally relaxed enough to do so. He watches the firebender doze in his arms, marvelling quietly at this stage they’ve come to. ,
Zuko’s features are slack and almost peaceful, free from the little frown that haunts his waking hours. He’s yet to crack that dimpled smile Sokka fell for, but Sokka’s not going to stop trying to get it out of him, just as Zuko seems determined to keep Sokka from the worst of his memories.
***
Sokka sighs It’s not going to be easy, he knows, There’s a lot they’ll have to parse through in the coming months, along with the teensy mission that is helping Aang save the world, but right now Zuko is safe and alive and steadily growing stronger in his hands and there’s this fragile new thing between them.
And Sokka can hear the light breathing of his family around him, all of them bound together by a mission of world peace and honor, laughter and the simple thing that is love, and Sokka thinks - they’re going to be just fine.
One takes care of the future best by taking care of the present, after all.
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