Midnight Sun, Midday Moon

by Maelstrom_Breaker

Summary:

Fire turns Water to steam, and Water extinguishes Fire. What fate awaits two children born into their opposite?

Notes:

• Inspired by [Restricted Work] by eech (Log in to access.)

Chapter 1: Birth - Part 1

Hakoda couldn’t help but smile as he and Bato continued to row back towards his village. Between the two of them, a net filled with fish continued to wiggle and squirm, occasionally rocking the kayak. It had been a struggle to get them on board, but the haul would be enough to feed the village for at least a few days. With a good surplus of food, he was naturally in a good mood as they ground the kayak on the firm ground.

That smile fell as he heard an ear-shattering scream from one of the huts. From his hut.

He threw down the oar, all thoughts of the successful catch forgotten. He raced across the snow, scraps of snow kicked up in his wake. The others all parted around him, clearing a path to his hut. He found his mother outside, face grim and pacing. “Hakoda”, she said, voice sadder than he’d ever heard it.

He came to a stop, face ashen and breath coming out in deep pants. “What… When did it start?”

“Her water broke maybe an hour after you and Bato left”, Kanna said. “It’s been… hard for her.”

“Kya is a fighter”, Hakoda said. He didn’t know who he was directing it towards, or who it was meant to comfort. “She’ll make it.”

Kanna doesn’t say anything, just moving aside to let Hakoda enter the hut. Two of the village healers were crouched next to her, comforting her as another contraction swept across her. She screamed, tearing off into a sob. Hakoda bit his tongue, cursing himself for not being there for his wife.

The two women moved away from Kya’s left, allowing Hakoda to kneel down next to his wife. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it, while the other ran a hand through her sweat-coated hair. “I’m here, Kya. You’re doing good. You’re doing good.”

Kya turned her head, her face a mask of pain and exhaustion. “Hakoda…”, she whispered, before another contraction tore through her. He squeezed harder, trying his best to comfort his wife.

“Just hold on”, he says. “Just hold on.”

It seems like hours before it stops, and the baby is out. Kanna enters, coming to the aid of Kya as one of the healers turns to attend to his new son. Hakoda stands behind her, watching her.

His son is small, wriggling and letting out gasping breaths. The healer has removed the umbilical cord and cleaned him of the blood and fluid that once coated him. Bundled in furs, his son is placed into his arms. He’s small, barely peeking out from behind the swaddling fur. A tuft of brown hair tops his head, his face is pudgy and round, and his brown skin is smooth as sealskin. And he isn’t crying.

“What’s wrong with him?”, he asks the healer, barely able to restrain his panic.

The healer looks up at him, her face creased with sorrow. “There were complications. We got him out but… I don’t know how long he has.”

“No”, Hakoda breathes. He glances at his wife, seeing her lying on her back. Kanna and the other healer attend to her, wiping away the sweat and blood from her. Her breaths are ragged, and when she opens her eyes, they look at Hakoda and their son. He sputters and coughs, breathing in raspy breaths, but doesn’t wail.

He can’t die. Everything his wife went through, the fear and the pain and the exhaustion, wouldn’t be for naught. Heads towards the stove at the center of the hut, a bucket of water and a burning fire keeping the room warm. He takes some of the water, continuing to clean the newborn.

“Come on”, he whispers, his heart beating against his ribs like a drum. “Breathe. You are strong. For me. For your mother.” No wail comes. The baby continues to shiver and sputter.

His heart is in his throat as desperation takes root. “Spirits”, he murmurs, gazing down into the pool of water. “Please. Save my son. Tui, La… Anyone listening. Save my son, I beg of you. Save him.”

The next few seconds of his son, barely breathing and shivering, seem like an eternity. Then, a light falls upon him. He looks up, squinting as the bright sun shines through the ventilation hole of the hut. Smoke curls around as a spear of light stabs downward, falling upon his son. Far more intense than the sun should be, even at the height of summer, the light seems to soak into him. His hair darkens almost imperceptibly, a darker brown almost bordering on black.

As the light fades, smoke once again fills the vent, his son begins to wail.

Tears fall down his face as the noise fills his ears. His son cries, and the raspy bawling is sweeter than music. He clutches him close, tears streaming down his face to fall into the furs that wrap his firstborn.

“Hakoda”, Kya whispers. He turns around, watching as his wife tries to sit up. She is coaxed back into lying upon a mound of pillows and furs, but her eyes still watch him. “Our son…?”

“He’s here”, Hakoda says, moving over briskly and offering their son to his wife. She takes him in her arms, holding him down to her chest as Hakoda lays down next to her. “He’s started crying. He’s going to be alright.”

The two of them simply sat there, watching their son. The healers, once their presence is no longer needed, depart, leaving the only other person in the room being Hakoda’s mother. Kanna smiles, sitting on a stool near the door, smiling at the two. “Have you decided upon a name?”

Kya nods slowly. “If it was a boy, we decided it’d be Sokka.” She turns back to their son, running a finger across his chin. “Hello, Sokka.” The tickling continued, the cries turning into soft giggles as their son opened his eyes.

One the blue of the deep sea, the other a molten gold.

Chapter 2: Birth - Part 2

“Your Highness”, the servant said, bowing in the doorway. Ozai glared up from his desk, gesturing for the Servant to explain what was so important. If he was being interrupted over some trifle, then he wouldn’t be pleasant with her. “Your wife has entered labor.”

Ozai blinked. It was at least a few weeks earlier than the Fire Sages had predicted his wife would give birth to their first child. The child was expected to be born in the first few days of Spring, not still within the depths of winter. “I see.”

XXXXX

Ozai strode through the hallway, a careful mask of calm across his face. Hours had passed since the announcement of his wife entering into labor, and he finally departed his office to check on her. Surely she would be done, and he could get a good look at his child.

Since he had uncovered Ursa’s ancestry, he had been enthralled by the concept. The Bloodline of Agni that flowed through the veins of the Royal Family, combined with the Bloodline of an Avatar. Surely, the children that resulted from such a union would be powerful, and helpful in securing his own legacy.

The sun would just begin to disappear below the horizon if it were visible behind the wall of dark clouds. Rain pattered down upon the palace, sending any guards and servants caught out in the gale scrambling for cover. Ozai ignored those beneath his station as he approached the suite of rooms that belonged to him and his wife. Even over the faint pattering of rain and wind outside, a stinging wail filled the hallway.

Three figures stood outside of the door leading to his wife's chambers. Two stood on opposite sides of the door, clad in the red armor of Imperial Firebenders. The third, portly and adorned with a self-satisfied grin as always, was his older brother. He turned as Ozai approached, his smile changing into a broad grin. “Congratulations, brother!”, he said, pulling Ozai into an embrace. “You have a Son!”

Ozai allowed himself to smile, both at the news of a son and to placate his brother. “Excellent news. Is Ursa well?”

“Your wife is well”, Iroh said, releasing him and turning towards the door. “She is with your son while Fire Sage Jaoku examines him. Your wife is already quite smitten with the boy.”

Though he kept the smile on his face, internally he was scowling. Even with her heightened position, she still maintained her peasant sensibilities. If she tainted the boy with those ideals, it would prove troublesome to mold him into the perfect heir he needed. Still, there were ways of working around her.

He nodded to the guards, who bowed. “Good Night, dear brother.”

“Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily”, Iroh said, chuckling as he had already begun turning towards his own wing of the palace. “Lu Ten is surely still awake at this hour, and I wish to introduce him to his baby cousin. Besides, Father will surely want to see the boy.”

“Of course”, Ozai said, grinding his teeth behind his lips at the mention of his brat of a nephew and scheming father. More complications, more variables, more obstacles. He took a deep breath, pushing open the door with both hands.

The Midwife who had helped deliver his son was finishing packing her things. She bowed, quickly scurrying off out the open door as Ozai watched the bed. His wife lay upon large silk pillows, the sheets pulled up to cover her legs now that the birth had concluded. A Fire Sage stood off to one side of the large bed, studying a bundle over Ursa’s shoulder. It took Ozai a moment to realize that that bundle contained his son.

“Ozai”, Ursa said, her voice laced with exhaustion as she looked up from cooing at the boy. Yes, he would need to correct that as soon as possible. “You have a Son.”

“I heard from my brother”, Ozai said, marching up to the Fire Sage. “How is the boy?”

As he spoke, he turned his eyes down to examine his son. Even with him being bundled up in fine silk, he could see all he needed to know from the boy. The baby was sickly, much smaller than he remembered his nephew being upon his birth. The shrieks he had heard from down the hall had since quieted, his son still crying but in a mewling, pathetic way. The boy turned his head to look at him, and his eyes were a shade of gold different than his own. They appeared less gold, and more resembling bronze, flecked with small spots of sky-blue.

Fire Sage Joaku didn’t need to say a thing for Ozai to realize what was wrong with the boy. “The boy lacks the spark of a Firebender. He is small, but-”

“But nothing”, Ozai said. “He is a Nonbender, and that is enough.”

Ursa’s face changed as if she were donning a new mask; it moved from a serene calm to a mix of outrage and feral panic. “Ozai! Surely you don’t-”

“The first Nonbender born into the Royal Family in over two hundred years!”, Ozai snapped, causing both his foolish wife and the frail Fire Sage to recoil in shock. The boy began to wail again, louder and much more annoying. “It is a disgrace, and a stain upon our Dynasty, and I will not stand for it.”

He could care less for the Dynasty; everything was wrong. His wife’s blood was in question (Surely not his own), and the boy was useless to him. Even a weak bender would be preferable to one who lacked even the faintest spark. A weak bender he could mold into something usable, but not this. Not something this weak.

Before he could even consider another move, his father graced them with his Illustrious presence. “What is the meaning of this?”, Azulon snapped, his quartet of guards standing to either side of the open door.

“The boy is a Nonbender”, Ozai said, simply and without emotion in his voice. “There isn’t even the smallest spark in his eye. This is a blow to our dynasty. Besides, the boy is weak. There is no guarantee he will even last the night.”

Azulon scrutinized Ozai for several moments, eyes narrowed. Ozai had spent nearly every one of his twenty-four years of life learning to lie and show no response, and so Azulon got none from him. He turned to the Fire Sage, asking, “Is this true?”

Jaoku bowed, replying, “Yes, my Lord.”

Azulon turned his gaze upon Ursa, frowning. “You are still attached to the boy?”

“Bending or not, he is my son”, Ursa said, the panic and fear still upon her face. “If the boy lives beyond a week, he will be strong. I know of those that do not produce flames until they have seen eight summers. If he lives beyond a week, let him live beyond that.”

Ozai opened his mouth to protest. To deny this offer, desperate to wipe clean this stain upon himself. However, his father nodded. “A fair request. The boy will be let to live until then, and beyond if he still draws breath.”

Ozai scoffed, his piercing gaze falling upon his wife, the Fire Sage, his father, and the boy in turn. He then turned, consideration as to how he would change his plans for the seat of Fire Lord with a Nonbending firstborn. He didn’t notice his wife and father watching him go. He didn’t notice his brother and nephew walk past him to see the squirming whelp.

And he most certainly didn’t see the boy reach towards an open window, swiping at the falling rain as if it called to him.

Chapter 3: Little Sisters - Part 1

Sokka hated the snow.

Maybe that didn’t make sense. He was Water Tribe, after all. Snow was the frozen version of the element that gave his home its name. But snow was different than water. It was cold, and it stuck to everything, and he just hated it.

Thankfully, it was starting to become summer again. Even though the snow wouldn’t go away, it wouldn’t be falling as much. Plus, the sun would be out pretty much all day! He loved the sun; simply standing underneath it filled him with energy and didn’t make him feel like he was wading through melted fat.

Sokka was the second person to wake up as thin sunlight filtered through the flap of their hut. His dad wasn’t there, but that was usual. When the dark period was over, he was always up really early so he could go get more food. Sokka didn’t care, however, instead springing out from beneath his fur blankets and heading towards the door.

Or, he would have, if he didn’t stumble. His head felt woozy, and he fell back on his bed with a groan. He felt hot; hotter than usual, anyway. The clothes he had worn to bed were practically caked to his body with sweat, and the chill wind that came in through the entrance to their hut made him shiver.

He desperately sought safety from the chill beneath his blanket. The warm furs protected him from the chill that seemed to permeate the entire being. He sighed, head falling back against his pillow.

On the bed next to his, his little sister stirred. Katara yawned, sitting up in bed and looking over at him. Her blue eyes were still unfocused, and flickered with irritation. “Wha is it?”

“I… I think I-”, he began, only to be interrupted as his nose began to tingle. He sucked in harsh breaths, his face burning, before letting it out in a great sneeze. “AH-CHOO!” He sniffled, rubbing his nose with his forearm. “I think I’m sick again.”

XXXXX

“Yes, you most definitely are”, Mom said, removing her hand from Sokka’s forehead. “Just another chill. This should pass in a few days.”

As always. He was so used to this cycle of being sick and being healthy, that it was almost as effective a way to tell time as the moon and star cycles. Much less confusing, too.

He half-fell against his pillow, staring at the icy ceiling. Sick again, and just when the sun was starting to reappear. He could spend all day outside, the sun warming him so he almost didn’t feel the constant frost that permeated the village. Now, he was stuck back inside because whatever was wrong with him meant the cold got to him so much, even when he never went outside.

“I’ll go get some medicine from Tunnuru”, Mom said, standing up. “Katara, can you give Sokka some of the soup I made?”

“Okayie”, Katara said, toddling over to the stove.

Mom lowered down, kissing Sokka’s forehead. Her lips were cool, cutting through the feverish heat that clung to him like a shroud. He smiled, even as Mom disappeared from sight.

“Hewe”, Katara said, holding out the bowl of soup for him.

Sokka laughed, taking ahold of the wooden bowl and laying on the furs. He spooned the thick broth into his mouth, sighing as the flavor worked through him. A pleasant warmth, dull and calming as opposed to the burning intensity of his fever, suffused through his body. Salty fish and even Sea Prunes! Mom was so awesome.

“Thanks, Twerp”, he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “You sleep well?”

“Yeah”, Katara said, sitting down on her own bed. “But yu woke me up. Why do yu wake up so eawly?”

Sokka shrugged. “Just do.” During the summer months, the sun rising was an effective way of getting him out of bed. Even when the sun started to show up less and less later in the year, it was always an effective way to get him up and energized.

Katara made a face, causing Sokka to giggle. “Don’t worry about it. Just something your big brother’s good at.” He took another spoonful of soup, gesturing towards the door. “Don’t worry about me. Go play with your friends.”

Katara frowned. “Buh wha about yu?”

Sokka’s small smile fell away. “I’ll be fine.” It was accurate; he would be. His parents had gotten so used to this cycle of sickness he had that it was something that would be easily resolved. Mom would bring back medicine and watch him all day. Dad would come back and show him cool things he would need to know when he became a warrior. Gran-Gran would roast something meaty for dinner, and tell stories about cool warriors and heroes for him to go to bed.

But it was always those three, and now Katara as well. He didn’t have a whole lot of friends. The older boys eyed him with suspicion, like he was gonna start cackling manically and setting things on fire. The parents of the younger boys told them to stay away from him. He didn’t get it. Something wrong with his eye? It looked cool, why did everyone not like him?

Katara must have seen that look on his face, as she came up to his bed. “I’ll stay”, she said. She reached for his hand, but fell short. She clipped the edge of his bowl, sending the soup spilling out onto the floor. “Oh no”, Katara said. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s ok, Twerp”, he said. He sat up, ignoring his aching chest. “Come on”, he said, patting the bed next to him. She happily hopped up, sitting next to him.

She giggled, leaning on his arm. “Yu’we wawm.” Sokka smiled. So what if those jerks didn’t like him? He had his sister. That was all that really mattered to him.

Chapter 4: Little Sisters - Part 2

Zuko bowed to his tutor, who bowed back to him. “I shall see you tomorrow, Prince Zuko.” Zuko rises out of his bow, giving the old woman a small smile. He then turns and leaves, heading towards the garden.

He loves the garden, almost as much as the beach on Ember Island. Especially in spring, when the Monsoon season is over and everything is wet and soft. The stone path has long-since dried from the repeated steps of the Firebending Guards, the warmth seeping through their boots to dry the stone. But the flowers starting to bloom, the long grass, and the shady trees all still drip with a moisture that he enjoys being around.

He finds his mother where he always finds her after his lessons. She’s sitting by the Turtleduck pond, a loaf of bread from the kitchens clutched in her hand. She’s already started to feed the creatures, excited quacking coming from the recently hatched turtleducklings that emerge to feed on the offering. What breaks the typicalness of the encounter is his baby sister, sitting on mother’s lap.

Even after living with her for four years, he still doesn’t quite know what to make of Azula. She was really loud when she was younger, always screaming or giggling or just babbling. When she got older and started talking, she became quieter, still loud but now more controlled about it. Even with her being really annoying in Zuko’s opinion, Father loves her. He’s been around her a lot… A lot more than him. Something about her eyes?

Zuko gets it. Even if no one’s directly said anything to him, he knows he was born without something. Something that was apparently really important, and he’s just… not as good without it. That’s why he focuses so much on what his tutors are teaching him. Maybe Father will pay attention to him if he can make up for whatever he doesn’t have. It hasn’t worked, but, maybe if he tries harder…

“Are you alright, Zuko?”, Mother asks, getting through to him. He realizes that he was scowling, and shakes his head quickly. She smiles, soft and inviting, and pats the stones next to her.

“Hi, Zuzu”, Azula said, leaning forward to look around Mother as he sat next to them.

“I thought you’d still be with Father”, he replied, doing the same to look at her.

She rolled her eyes, as if he were the younger sibling and she was explaining something trivial to him. “Father is visiting one of his friend”, she said. “And he didn’t have anyone lined up to teach me otherwise. So, here I am.”

Mother looked down at Azula, her face sad. She often had that expression around Azula. Had that expression a lot in general. Before either Mother or Azula could say anything, a Servant came up the path. “Princess Ursa”, the man said. “Someone is here to see you.”

“Of course”, Mother said, standing up and placing the loaf in Zuko’s hand. “Would you watch your sister for a few minutes?”

“Sure”, Zuko said, smiling as Mother left. As soon as she was out of the small courtyard that held the pond, he began to tear up the bread, tossing the small pieces to the Turtleducks.

“Why do you two do this?”, Azula asked, playing with a small stone. “I mean, there’s enough stuff for them to eat in the Pond. What’s the point of feeding them bread?”

“The Breads old”, Zuko said. “No one wants to eat it except them. At least that’s what Mother said.” Silence reigned between the two of them as Zuko slowly reduced the bread to pieces, until there was nothing left. The two of them just watched the Turtleducks, the new chicks following their mother in a lazy loop of the pond. “Why are you here?”

“I live here too, Dum-Dum”, she said, looking ahead.

Zuko shook his head. “No. I mean, you are never around Mother if you can help it.”

Azula shrugged. “Dad wasn’t here. There was nothing better to do.” She then smiled, looking over at him. “So, how are your little lessons?”

“Fine”, Zuko said. “What’s… What’s firebending like?”

She grinned, opening up her palm. A small flame, no bigger than a lantern, glowed in her hand and twinkled in her eyes. “It’s amazing.”

Zuko could only nod. It looked amazing, something otherworldly and untouchable even though he’d seen plenty of Firebenders. For him, at least. “I can imagine.”

Azula’s smile grew. “All you can do, I guess. I mean, you have to have a really big imagination. All those cool stories you came up with.”

“It’s called reading, Azula”, Zuko said, his own smile coming across his face. “You’ll learn it soon enough.”

Azula stood, waving her hands in a big circle. “‘Now that I have escaped your curse and regained my true nature, you shall pay for your trickery!’” Zuko giggled, rising to his feet as the final fight at the end of ‘Love Amongst the Dragons’ played in his mind. He was always the Dark Water Spirit and Azula the Dragon Emperor when she wanted to play fight, but he didn’t mind.

His eyes widened as he saw sparks fly from the flame still in her hand. Several fell on the Owl-Cattails that lined the perimeter of the pond, and flames spread across the plants. The Turtleducks quacked in alarm and swam away to the opposite corner of the pond, while Azula extinguished her flame, eyes wide with shock. Zuko scrambled forward, one arm held out to grab his sister-

When the water in the pond shot forward.

The water smothered the flames, leaving only the burned section of the plants as the only indication that there had ever been a fire. Even the steam that came from the sudden extinguishing of the blaze soon faded away. Both of them stared in stunned silence, Zuko’s arm falling lamely at his side. “D-did I do tha-”

“Zuko.” His mother stood at the entrance to the courtyard, her expression mirroring the surprise of her children. She slowly came forward, resting her hand on Zuko’s shoulders. She didn’t even notice her daughter turning to stare at them, focusing solely on the half-burned vegetation.

“You just Waterbent”, Azula said, her voice halting and quiet. “Sh-should we tell-”

“No”, Mother said, her voice unusually stern. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s… Consider it a secret.” Azula smiled; Mother was weird around her, but she knew that Azula loved secrets. “We’ll talk about this later. Again, do not tell anyone. At all. Do you both understand?”

“Yes, Mother”, Azula said sweetly.

Zuko gulped, looking down at his hands. “Right. O-of course, Mom.”

Mother took a deep breath, her face returning to that blank smile. “Now, come with me. One of my friends is coming to visit, and she brought her daughter.” She took both of their hands, leading them out of the garden, away from the evidense of something that felt cool to do but was really bad. He knew why, of course; Waterbending was only something that Savages who lived in the Poles did. A Prince of the Fire Nation wasn’t supposed to Waterbend. Still, it was… otherworldly and very touchable.

Azula peaked around mother, sticking out her tongue at him and giving him a cheeky grin. He was gonna be stuck as the Dark Water Spirit, wasn’t he?

Chapter 5: Elders - Part 1

He-He didn’t mean to! He didn’t even know he could! How was he supposed to know!?

Sokka’s eyes were as wide as the full moon, staring at the half-melted hunk of ice and steaming water in between him and the other boys. He’d finally managed to get a few of them alone; get a few of them to agree to play with him. But, one of them had pushed Sokka, and he’d been so mad, and-

Adults came out of the village, eyes alert and their faces a mixture of fear and resolve. Then men carried clubs and spears, eyes darting in every direction in search of the Fire Nation Raiders they no doubt expected. Instead, they fell on the terrified boys and Sokka, still like a glacier and his mittens glowing with sparks.

“I… I…”, he said, because he didn’t know what to say. The small tendril, like a Salmon-Eel made of fire, had come from his hand without him meaning to, shooting out into the ice they’d stood on before he could even realize.

His mother ran out of the crowd, scooping him up in her arms and holding him tightly. She gave the best hugs, but this still wasn’t comforting. Even with the cold wind striking him across the back, he felt warm. The warmest he’d ever felt, and it was after he’d just shot fire out of his hands! Oh… Tui and La. He was an Ashmaker!

The Fire Nation was never really real to him. He knew that they existed, of course. Were engaged in a war of conquest against the entire world, wanting everyone to bow to them. He knew that they had stolen all of the Waterbenders of his and the other Southern Water Tribes, depriving them of so much. But, even all of that had never really felt present, felt real. This did.

“Sokka”, Mom whispered, her voice soft and filled with something he didn’t recognize. It made her voice quiver, like she was cold.

“The boy is an Ashmaker”, another voice said. “Hakoda, your boy-”

“I know, Bato”, Father said, coming up to him. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah”, he said, not really feeling alright. How do you feel alright when you’re Fire Nation?

People are talking around him; adults of all ages and of both genders, talking over each other and to each other. He can’t make it out, not really. Some words come through the din, and he is able to make them out: ‘Ashmaker’ ‘Curse’ ‘Bastard’ ‘Smoke-belching’ ‘War-Child’ and ‘Ashmaker’ again.

“Kya”, a voice said, breaking through the neverending muttering that had encircled him. It was Gran-Gran, standing next to them with an unreadable expression. “Let me take the boy back to your hut. Son, I suggest you talk to everyone.” She held out her hand, and with Mom’s urging, he took it.

Gran-Gran led them through the small crowd, her steps even and back straight. The adults around them look at Sokka, and he is better able to read their expressions. Some are still full of fear. Some are blank, simply watching him. He looks down at his boots when he sees one of the Elders glare at him with a look that could only be anger.

The hut is empty, Katara being with a few of the girls nearer to her age. Gran-Gran has him sit on the edge of his bed, telling him, “Take off your mittens.” He complies, pulling them off. Something stings, and small red spots decorate his hands. “Just like I thought. Small burns. Ok, hold your hands out. I’ll take care of this.”

She goes to the box he wasn’t allowed to open while he held his hands in front of him. Now open to the slightly warmer air of the tent, he saw them fully. For what felt like the first time, he saw them. The hands that could produce fire… The hands of those who were pure evil, wanting to conquer the world.

Did that make him evil? He didn’t want to be evil! He hadn’t even done anything really bad, right? Sparks flew from his hands like he had struck sparkrocks together, and he was going to be banished, or were they going to hurt him, and-

“Sokka.” Gran-Gran stood in front of him, placing a wooden cup on the ground and holding out her hands. “I need you to breathe. Don’t think about anything other than breathing. Take a deep breath”, she said, raising her hands and inhaling through her nose. Sokka mimicked it, and she lowered her hands. “Now breathe out.”

He followed her lead, continuing to breathe. He didn’t even notice he was sucking in such shallow, quick breaths until Gran-Gran had said something, and now with her raising and lowering her hands while telling him to breathe… The Sparks stopped.

“There there”, Gran-Gran said, stepping forward and taking the cup again. Inside was a weird mixture of seaweed and other stuff that stank, which she began to apply to his hands. It covered the burns in the greenish substance, which was thick and sticky. “You’re going to be alright.”

“Gran-Gran”, he said. His throat ached and he couldn’t stop the tears, but he had to ask. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“You’ll get better”, Gran-Gran said. “Your Mother will cook you dinner, and your Father will talk with the Elders.”

“Are you gonna… gonna send me away?”, he asked around halting sobs.

Gran-Gran shook her head. “No. No one is going to send you anywhere. You will be staying right here, in our village. In your home.”

“B-but I’m Fire Nation”, he babbled, eyes fixated on his hands. “I-I’m an A-ashm-maker. I-”

“Listen to me Sokka”, Gran-Gran said, placing the bowl down and placing both hands on his shoulders. “You are a Firebender, yes. You possess a gift wielded by those who are doing horrible things. But you are not an Ashmaker. You are not Fire Nation. You are Sokka, son of Hakoda, Chief of the Fox-Tail Tribe. You are Water Tribe.”

“But… But-”

“No buts, young man”, she said. “Do not worry. Your parents… Your sister, they all love you. You were blessed by a Spirit who allowed you to live. You were so sickly when you were young, but you survived. Sokka, you are Water Tribe for that survival alone. Do you understand?”

Sokka could only nod. He sniffed, watching his hands. Gran-Gran had removed her hands from his shoulders and began to wrap his hands in bandages, fully obscuring the red spots from view. “Sp-spirit?”

Gran-Gran nodded. “You know of Tui and La, obviously. The Moon and the Ocean, our spirits. But there are others. The Spirit of the Sun is called Agni. He blessed you when you were young, giving you his vigor. You are bright and you are resilient, even in this place where it rarely shines. Just like the Sun.”

She finished wrapping his hands, patting the bandages. “Never forget that. You are Water Tribe, even if you were blessed by Agni. You. Are. Water Tribe.” She hugged him, and he hugged her back. His hands still tingled, and he still felt warm. But… He didn’t feel so scared.

Chapter 6: Elders - Part 2

Zuko didn’t have time to look over his shoulder. He knew that his pursuer was still after him, and looking would only allow them to get closer. He wove around a tree, using it to try and put distance between the two of them. Alas, it was fruitless, as when they tried to double back and get away from them, he only ran headlong into them. The two of them tumbled into the fountain next to the tree, Zuko sent sprawling on his side in the cold water.

Azula giggled, coming out from behind the tree where she’d tripped him. Mai, still technically it, glared up at her, the target and the pursuer united in their antipathy to the Princess. “Really, Azula?”, Mai questioned.

“What?”, she said, quiet and sweet and innocent. If Zuko hadn’t been hearing it since she’d first learned to string together full sentences, he’d be sucked in. “You two look so cute together.”

“They really do”, Ty Lee said, cartwheeling out from whatever bush she’d sought cover in when she’d tagged Mai.

“Girls are crazy”, Zuko muttered.

Ty Lee said, “It’s part of our charm, Zuko. You’ll learn to love it!” Azula rolled her eyes while Mai glared at her even harder than usual, a small smile cracking her usual expressionless face. She sprang to her feet, giving chase to Ty Lee, the flexible girl giving a cry of alarm before running away.

No longer Mai’s target, Zuko climbed out of the fountain, yanking off one of his boots to pour out the water that had gotten inside. Water was great, but the inside of boots was one of the major exceptions to that rule. “Why is it that every game I play with you ends with me getting wet?”

He knew the answer, of course. It was Azula’s little way of teasing him without giving away his secret. Even after Father had gotten even closer with her, she’d never revealed that he could Waterbend. If he had known… Well, at least Father would treat him differently than the simple, cold silence that he usually did…

Azula just giggled. “Not all of them.”

“Yeah”, he says, sliding the boot back on before standing up and brushing himself off. “Just the ones that you pick.” The two of them stared at one another, blithely ignoring the game of Catopus and Vole-Mouse their other friends were playing behind them. The stalemate broke when both of them just laughed, Zuko shaking out his legs as he saw Ty Lee angling back towards them.

“Prince Zuko”, a voice said. All four children stopped in their tracks, turning to the source of the Intrusion. An Imperial Firebender stood at the edge of the courtyard, bowing once the royal in question noticed him. “Firelord Azulon requests your presence.”

Zuko and Azula exchanged nervous looks. Zuko turned back to the Firebender, nodding. The guard righted himself and started to march down one of the corridors adjoining the courtyard, not even waiting for a verbal response. With a final nod to his sister, Zuko followed after the Guard.

XXXXX

Zuko hadn’t actually been in the Throne Room that much. The only firm memory of being there was when his parents had brought him along to watch Azula perform a Kata for their Grandfather. Zuko didn’t really even know why he was there, save for his father insisting. He’d made a point about the strength of Azula’s bending, so it might just be him showing off? He didn’t get it.

Still, he knew what he had to do, it being covered in his etiquette lessons numerous times. He marched down the central line of the chamber, coming to a stop just before steps leading up to the Dragon Throne. His Grandfather’s flames burned low in its channel, casting a shadow over the lower side of his Grandfather’s face and the upper part of his. He came to a stop at a designated space, falling into a kowtow before his Firelord.

“Rise, Prince Zuko”, Azulon said, voice firm and without emotion. Zuko rose up to a Seiza position, facing his Grandfather. He noticed for the first time the silk cloth in from of him, obscuring a pair of lumps underneath. Before he could even wonder what they were, his Grandfather spoke again.

“You are a Waterbender.”

Zuko froze solid. He didn’t know what to say, what should he say. None of his lessons covered anything like this, because why would they!? He’d been so careful, he’d never let anyone besides Mom and Azula see him do it. Even then, it was always either in the Creek by their home on Ember Island or late at night. How could he know? What was Grandfather going to do to hi-

“Calm yourself”, Grandfather said, his voice firm. He rose, stepping around his flames to come down to the floor. Zuko kept as still as he could, hands tightly clasped in fists on his thighs. “Something like this, in my own Palace? I would know about it eventually. Who else knows?”

“J-just Mom and Azula”, he said, before clearing his throat. “I mean, just Princess Ursa and Princess Azula, your Majesty.”

Azulon nodded, falling into his own seiza just across from Zuko, the silk bundle separating them. “Do not be alarmed, I am not angry with you.”

“B-but I’m a Waterbender”, he said, recalling what his tutors spoke said about Waterbenders. “Th-their Savages and Backwards, and, and-”

“You are also a Prince of the Fire Nation”, Azulon said, voice harsh. Zuko bowed his head, looking down at the fists he clenched over his thighs. “The Blood of Agni flows through you just as much as the ability to bend water. You are not a Savage, even with your Waterbending.”

Zuko raised his head. Grandfather’s expression softened somewhat, and he cast his gaze around the room. “Prince Zuko. What lights up this room?

“Your flames, Grandfather”, Zuko said automatically. “Just as the Fire Nation is a beacon that brings light to the World.”

“Indeed”, Azulon said. “My flames bring light to this room. But, just as the sun casts shadows, so do my flames. Places that our glory does not reach directly. What lights up those shadows?”

“Uh…”, Zuko stuttered, trying to think. That had to have been mentioned in one of his lessons, but he just couldn’t remember. “I don’t know.”

“Torches”, Azulon said, pointing a bony hand to one such torch on the periphery of the Throne Room. “They fully illuminate the room, driving away nearly all shadows. In the case of the Fire Nation, it is our soldiers that bring light to those savage places. In the matter of the Firelord, the torches are the Royal Family. Even though they do not rule, my sons support my reign. When I die and after Iroh leaves the throne, you and your sister shall support your Cousin as Fire Lord.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand”, Zuko said. “What-”

“You cannot, and never will hold the Dragon Throne”, Azulon said. “It is simply not possible. But you will not be cast aside, even for something like this.” Azulon smiled, something Zuko had never seen him do before. He liked Grandfather’s smile. “You have a purpose. Just because you wield water does not diminish that. I would see you excel, to put you in a position of value for when this war finally ends.”

He gestured to the silk, obviously wanting him to open it. Beneath the silk were two scrolls. “The one on the left is a letter of introduction to Master Piandao of Shu Jing. He is a master swordsman; he shall teach you how to wield the blade. Open the other.”

He did as commanded, picking up and unraveling the scroll. Inside, etched in blue ink, was… Waterbending. A silhouette going through the motions, manipulating ice and balls of water. It was amazing; in his limited practice with his element, all he could do was splash things and move it around. “Recovered following the pacification of the Southern Water Tribe”, Azulon explained. “You lack flame, but you are a loyal son of the Fire Nation. We do not throw valuable things upon the fire, and you are certainly valuable. When the March of Progress has ended, you will be there to help keep the peace. You will be a steward of our ways in the domain of the Water Tribes, and help usher in a new age under our rule. Do you understand?”

“I-I think so”, Zuko said, returning to his kowtow. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

“Rise, Prince Zuko”, Azulon said, rising to his feet with his little Grandson. The two bowed to one another. “Continue to keep your secret, continue to serve the Dragon Throne, and you will not.” With a smile and nod in acknowledgment, Zuko took both scrolls, racing back to his room.

Chapter 7: Mothers - Part 1

Sokka hisses as the salve is applied to the cut, cleaning away the tiny trace of blood and speeding up the clotting. “What happened?”, his mother asks again, her voice gentle.

“I don’t know”, Sokka said. He felt a lump in his throat as he spoke, and looked down as Mom wrapped a bandage around his forearm. “I…”

“It’s alright, sweetie”, Mom said, clasping his hands. “You’re alright.”

“Why do they hate me? I-I can control it now. I haven’t lit anything on fire in a year! So why do they still hate me?”, he asked, the lump growing to the size of an iceberg.

He knows full well what happened. A few of the older boys threw snowballs at him, some of which had rocks in them. One had hit his arm, resulting in the cut. It had happened before, of course, but he’d always been wearing his parka, so they never left a mark. This time, they had caught him when he was practicing.

A little swell in the ice, a ways away from the village where he could practice without anyone being at risk. He practiced breathing like his Gran-Gran had taught, using some of his Dad’s warrior training in order to control the fire he could shoot out. It was hard, but he could at least avoid setting everything around him on fire when he was angry or scared.

That didn’t matter to some within the Village. Many people had warmed up to him, or at least tolerated him being around. A few though stuck with their distaste for him. Those boys had followed him out to his practice place, waiting until he was done to launch their attack. He’d taken off his Parka to feel the warmth of the summer sun as best he could, but that only left him open to their attack. All the while, taunts of ‘Ashmaker’ and ‘Fire-Demon’ rang out, hitting as hard and deep as the snowballs.

“Some people just can’t look past their fear”, Mom said, grabbing both of his hands. She lifted them up, placing them on her chest. “I know it's hard, but the only way you can change their mind is by being different.”

“But they won’t give me a chance!”, Sokka said, looking up to meet his mom's eyes. “I’ve done nothing but try and control it for years! It’s not fair!”

“I know”, Mom said, pulling him into a hug. “Maybe there is nothing that you can do, but that doesn’t mean you should stop. And whatever happens, I will be there for you.”

“... Thanks, Mom”, he said, returning the hug.

She pulls back, holding him at arm's length. Their eyes meet, and Sokka commits that look to memory. She doesn’t care about his bending, his frequent sickness, his lethargy when the sun didn’t shine. She didn’t even care about his too-dark hair and his baleful gold eye. She just saw Sokka. “Now, go to your father. I’m sure he could use your help.”

Sokka grinned, getting up and throwing back on his Parka. He waved to her, running outside of the hut. The village was alive with activity, people moving around as they carried out their chores or talked with their neighbors. He moved around the village, having long since found the ideal way to get from one side of the village without being noticed. As he headed outside the wall, racing towards his dad and some of the other men, it began to snow.

But, that wasn’t right. It was the middle of summer! And why was the snow black?

XXXXX

Sokka had never seen firebending done by anyone besides himself until that day. The fire that had destroyed half of the village, that had hurt a lot of people, that had… that had killed Mom; all of it came from Firebenders. Like him. They wore red armor and flew scarlet flags, but they were still like him.

He hadn’t realized that Mom was gone for a while after the warriors had sent the Firebenders fleeing back to their ships. He’d raced from fire to fire, free to use his own firebending with the Fire Nation gone. With a jerk of his wrists, he was able to grab the fire and smother it. Soon, with the others using buckets of water or snow, they’d extinguished all the fires.

Then, when he’d gone to find his sister, he smelt something coming from their hut. Something foul, like burning meat but distinct from fish or otter-penguin or any other typical meals. Entering their hut gave the scent a name.

If it weren’t for the necklace that hung in her limp hand, he wouldn’t have recognized her.

He couldn’t look at her; not like that. He had apparently thrown up, crying and lying in the snow. He honestly didn’t remember much after that. Everything passed in a blur, from him and Katara going to be that night, to the solemn and quiet breakfast the next morning.

The next firm memory that Sokka had was later that same day, when he and the rest of the Tribe had gathered near the shoreline. His mom, wrapped in a fur shroud, was carried out in front of the tribe. The four men that did so lowered her down onto the packed ice, just in front of a spot that would send her to a final rest beneath the sea.

Sokka stood holding Katara’s hand, both of them staring at the shroud numbly. He held her close, eventually wrapping his other arm around her as their dad spoke. He spoke of how he fell in love with her, how she had been a light in the Tribes life… about how everyone loved her. Sokka shut his eyes, unable to watch as she was finally dropped into the waiting ocean.

A day after that, they were on the move. Everything had been torn down and gathered up, piled onto the boats. With the Fire Nation knowing where they had been, they couldn’t stay. Sokka sat on the back of the ship, watching the cove they had lived for a good chunk of his life, where his mother had rejoined with La, disappear into the distance.

On one hand, he hated to see it leave, knowing it was likely he’d never see that cove and his little practice area again. On the other, maybe he would be able to get the scent of smoke and char out of his nose.

XXXXX

Sokka half-stumbled up the stairs to the deck, leaving the crowded belly of the ship behind. He couldn’t sleep, even with his sister and Gran-Gran sleeping right by him. Despite how close the village was, he felt closed in, surrounded by so many people.

He arrived on deck, the soft orange glow of the oil lamps that lit the interior of the ship replaced with the bright, soft blue glow of the moon. It hung directly above their little fleet, occupying the same position that the sun would occupy at Noon. He moved around the rigging and sails, ignoring the polite nods or small smiles of the crew still tending to the ship this late at night.

He sat down on the bow of the ship, looking dead ahead. Low fog hung around the waterline, with bits of ice that bounced off the ship appearing before he could see them. Above the fog, icebergs and jutting rocks crowded the ocean as far as the eye could see.

He sat down, just watching the swell of the ocean and the stuff that peeked above the ocean’s surface pass them by. Another ship followed slightly behind and to the left, occasional bursts of wind forcing it closer into line with the lead. Just… took it all in.

This was what defined the water tribe. A dangerous environment; one that held dangerous beasts and dangerous weather and little else. They clung to this, having adapted to this land that held little for anyone besides them. They built their huts and clothes in a certain to trap as much warmth. Their weapons and tactics allowed them to fight and win against the animals that inhabited this icy wasteland. Even the capture of their benders by the far-off Fire Nation didn’t change that fact about them. That was just what they were. What he was.

Still… He shivered as he held out a hand. He removed one of his mittens, the fingers inside pink and aching. Clenching his fingers, he willed a flame to appear. It answered his summons, a flickering little flame waving in the chilly night air.

He was Water Tribe. But this curse still marked him. It couldn’t be a blessing like Gran-Gran had said. It had to be a curse. To wield something like this, that made some in his tribe hate him, that killed his Mom… What else could it be but a curse from the Spirit of the people who killed his parents and was destroying them bit by bit?

He snuffed out the flame, snarling at the spot on his hand where it once burned. He was cursed, but he would overcome it. He would be the best warrior he could become, and then become even better than that. He would fight against the Fire Nation with everything he had!

He was roused from thoughts of revenge when he heard a quiet voice ask, “Sokka?”

Looking up, he saw Katara standing in front of him. “Katara? What are you-”

“You left”, she said. Her words sent a harpoon through his gut. “I… I couldn’t sleep.”

“Come here”, he said, waving her over. She sat down next to him, allowing him to wrap her up in his arms. The two of them rested against the railing, looking up at the moon. Both of them had since stopped shivering, simply sitting there as they watched the moon above them.

“I miss Mom.”

“Me too.”

Chapter 8: Mothers - Part 2

“Father’s gonna kill you”, Azula said, her voice even and distant.

Zuko could only stare at her, his eyes wide with shock. “What?” His grip tightened on his sheets, the full weight of her words falling on him like an Avalance. “What do you mean?”

“That meeting”, Azula said, still leaning against the doorway. He of course knew what meeting she was talking about. The same day that news of their cousin's death and the Northern Army Group retreating from the siege of Be Sing Se, their Father had requested an audience with their Grandfather. Both of them answered questions from their studies, though Zuko stumbled with his answer a bit. Azula demonstrated and advanced Firebending Kata, while Zuko ran through one with his Swords. They’d all left after that at their Grandfather’s order, though Azula snuck behind the curtain to listen.

“Did… Did-”

Zuko couldn’t get the words out before Azula cut him off. “It wasn’t direct, Dum-Dum. It never is with Grandfather. Father wanted to be named Crown Prince instead of Uncle. He argued that he still had me as his heir, and so should be next in line.”

“What does that have to do with me?”, he asked, anxiety tip-toeing up his spine.

Azula sighed, stepping away from the wall and walking towards Zuko’s bed. He patted the mattress, where she sat down next to him. “Grandfather said that Dad hasn’t suffered like Uncle has. He has to lose his Firstborn for it to make a difference.”

Zuko gulped. Since he was old enough to understand, he knew that his Father viewed him as a disgrace. A Nonbender in the Royal Family was bad enough; to be the person who spawned them would have its own shame. Especially after he became aware of his Waterbending, he knew that Father would have more than enough cause to kill him, and even be justified in doing so…

“A-are you sure it wasn’t a metaphor or something?”, Zuko said, grasping at straws. Grandfather said that he was valuable and that he had a purpose in the Royal Family. He had to see some reason, because the lessons with Piandao and access to Waterbending scrolls continued. This sudden reversal sounded so out of character that it gave him whiplash. “L-like removed from him or someth-”

“Even if it was”, Azula snapped. “You think Father cares?” Even if neither of them would dare say it out loud, they both knew he wouldn’t. Fathered cared, but not in that way.

“What’s going on?”, Mother’s voice called. She appeared in the doorway, that same tired and sad look on her face that seemed always to adorn it now.

“Nothing”, Azula says, standing up and heading for the door.

Mother watches her go, just standing in the doorway as Azula walks by. She seems to mutter something, but Zuko doesn’t hear her. The ringing in his ears distracts him, even as she comes closer to him and tries to crack a smile through her despondent facade. “It’s okay. Go to bed, sweetie.”

But Zuko can’t go to bed. Even after she leaves and the lamp is lowered down, he just can’t sleep. Azula’s words echo in his mind, the genuine threat of death looming over him like never before. It was always there, he belatedly realizes. But Grandfather’s insistence on his use and Mother’s close love distracted him from it, making it seem far away. It was always so close.

A short time later, Azula returned. She appeared from the ceiling, following a section of the roof supports that he had shown her. She dropped down, both of them looking to the door to see if anyone was close enough to hear her arrival. After a few moments, she asked, “What did Mother dearest say?”

“She… she just said to go to bed”, Zuko answered. “Y-you told her what-”

Azula snorted, climbing up next to him on the bed. “She’d pester me relentlessly if I didn’t. Took me back to my room. Said she’d talk to Father.” Silence reigned between the two of them, both siblings just sitting on Zuko’s bed. Finally, Azula broke through the silence. “I’m not letting that happen.”

XXXXX

Ursa let out a shuddering sigh, clutching her wrist to keep it from trembling. Behind her, the door leading to Firelord Azulon’s room stood, the faint glow coming through the slats in the door casting glowing eyes upon her back. The eyes bored down on her, gazing into her soul, seeming to sense her guilt. She let out another sigh.

It was done. The Firelord would not harm her son, whether through Azulon’s complicity or Ozai’s malice. While he still lived, for now, the dosage of poison she had placed into his tea would kill him before morning. Even if someone found him before then, it would be too late to save him. Azulon would die.

She let go of her hand, allowing the shaking in her hand to take over. She had to do it. When her daughter told her about what the Firelord had said, she’d gone directly to her husband. He confirmed what the old bastard had said to be true, that Zuko would be killed. However, he proposed a trade; she would kill his father in exchange for Zuko’s continued safety.

Speak of the Facestealer, Ozai emerged around a corner. “It’s done”, Ursa said, finally able to get her hand to stop shaking. It was for her son, she reasoned. It was all for her son. “He’ll be dead by morning.”

“Good”, Ozai said. Despite the blank face, she could tell he was happy. Growing up around and once being an actress, she could tell when someone was acting. Her daughter often acted around her, putting on the act of a perfect daughter. She wasn’t that skilled, however, letting the violence and bluntness and everything else shine through. Ozai, on the other hand, had a near-perfect mask around others.

“You remember your side of the deal?”, Ursa pressed.

Ozai nodded, flicking a hand down the hall towards her children's rooms. “The boy shall live despite his shame. You have my word.” Despite Ozai’s many, many acts against both her and her children, he never outright lied. Her son would live; that was what mattered. He stepped forward, placing something in her hand: A ticket. “I suggest you leave now. The ship for Yu Dao leaves at sunrise.”

“Of course”, she said. She couldn’t stay, obviously. Plenty of people had seen her preparing and bringing tea to Firelord Azulon. Even if old age was a likely cause of death, it only took a single guard or servant raising their suspicions for all evidence to turn to her. “I… May I at least say goodbye to my Son?”

“I will not stop you”, he said, turning to leave. “Goodnight, and Goodbye, Ursa.”

As soon as he was out of sight, she set off towards her son’s room. She walked quickly, yet was careful to avoid the watchful gaze of the few guards still patrolling at this hour. If spotted, they might insist on escorting her, which would only make her escape that much more difficult.

She slowly opened the door to her son’s room, quickly stepping inside. The room was dark, the window furthest from the bed open to allow a few beams of moonlight to fall into the room. Her son appeared to be fast asleep, lying on his side next to his nightstand. In the faint glow of the moon, he appeared so at peace… So small and soft.

Before she could step closer to him, she heard the door slam shut behind her. Her eyes went wide; she’d been betrayed. Her husband had lied, and-

“Mother?”, Azula’s voice said. Turning around, she saw her daughter standing by the door. The knife Iroh had sent Zuko was clutched in her hand, while sparks danced across the other. The two of them were staring at one another, both with wide eyes and mouths twisted in surprise.

“Azula?”, Ursa asked quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone had to protect Dum-Dum”, Azula said, flicking her head towards her brother. “Might as well be the one that had something wrong with her.” Her eyes, while tired, were laced with that same anger that she had seen so often in her. They were also puffy and red, as if she had been silently crying.

… How could Ursa have been so stupid? For all her faults, this was still her daughter. She had allowed Ozai to drive them apart, pushing her in two directions that contradicted one another. She’d wanted her daughter to be something she wanted, not what her daughter wanted her to be. Her children were close, despite the insults and taunts she’d seen her daughter level at Zuko.

“Mom?”, Zuko’s voice said, his voice bleary and still emerging from sleep. He held one of his dao in his hand, the other angled towards two glasses of water on his nightstand. He flexed his fingers slightly, the water rippling within the cup.

“Yes, it’s me”, she said, her voice soft. Both of them lowered their weapons, bending falling by the wayside as they stared at their mother. “I… I have to go.”

“You’re leaving?”, Azula asked.

Ursa nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I did something really bad.” Both of them seemed to catch on as to what she meant, staring at one another. “And I have to go. I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry”, she said, looking at Azula as she spoke. Her daughter looked away, body stiff and the knife in her hands quivering. “I love both of you. I love you… Protect each other. And stay true to yourselves… I’m sorry. Goodbye.” She left, silently opening and closing the door, her children’s bleary eyes locked on her until she disappeared from sight.

Chapter 9: Fathers - Part 1

Sokka wiped the sleep from his eyes as he rose. Every instinct in his body was telling him to go back to sleep. The sun was nowhere close to rising, and he hadn’t had much sleep anyway. He told those Firebender instincts to stuff it. He needed to be awake now, and if he didn’t want to get left behind, he had to leave now.

He slid on his parka and moved as slowly as he could out of the hut. His sister and Gran-Gran were both still fast asleep, and likely wouldn’t wake for hours. Dad was already gone, his bed taken apart and folded up into the corner of the room. The wind moved through the camp, kicking up loose snow to obscure the tracks that led away from their hut and towards a makeshift dock. Still, he knew where he was going.

The news that the Southern Water Tribes would rejoin the war against the Fire Nation had come as a shock to almost the entire tribe. Hakoda had been trying to convince the other chiefs to renew their war against them ever since Mom had been killed by the Raiders. Now, he had managed to rouse enough support to rally together a war fleet.

Just outside the walls of the village, ships sat at anchor. More ships than he had ever seen before, at least a hundred. In the dark winter twilight, figures moved along the decks and rigging, readying them to set sail. This was his chance; his Father’s ship still sat at the dock, and he could slip aboard. He could finally go fight the Fire Nation.

His body shivered, both from exhaustion and the chill that ripped through his parka. He let out a shuddering breath, a small plume of fire shooting out from between his teeth. The smoke was absorbed in the snow-filled wind, as was the next couple. Stealing a look around to see if he was noticed, he set out again towards the ship.

When the soft crunching of snow beneath his boots was replaced by the clatter of wood, he snuck into a low crouch. He recognized a few people loading the last of the baskets filled with food and other supplies onto the ship and shrunk even lower. There had to be an opportunity for him to get aboard without being seen. Maybe he could jump to the railing and-

A firm hand fell on his shoulder. “Son?”

Sokka froze as if he’d gotten a full blast of wind, trying to stop himself from shivering. Smoke filtered out from his mouth and nose as he slowly turned to look up at the face of his father.

Their eyes met, blue and blue resting on blue and gold. His dad’s face was mournful, tired but with a resolve Sokka had only rarely seen. “What are you doing up?” He knew what Sokka intended. He had to know.

“I… I just wanted to help finish loading the-”

Of course he knew. “Sokka. You can’t come with us.” Even if he knew exactly what words would come out of his mouth, they still stung like ice.

“B-but I can help!”, Sokka insisted. “It’ll be warm, so I won’t be so sluggish. I-I can help!”

“I know you could”, his Dad said, holding him steady. Sokka almost hadn’t realized how close he was to the edge of the dock, and how close to it he was swaying. “But this isn’t about what you can do. This is about what you need to do. And I need you to stay with the Village.”

Sokka shook, his hands balling into fists. “They don’t need me! I… I’m just a burden! I get sick, and I can’t hunt as well as the others! I just light fires and do stuff that can be done without me! I’ve trained so hard for this! Why can’t I go?” He looked away, sparks curling from his fists.

Hakoda lowered down onto one knee, taking his son in both arms. That stern expression softened somewhat, and once again their eyes met. “Son, you aren’t a burden. Look at me”, he saw, pulling Sokka closer to him. “You are not. Yes, your… abilities, can be done by other things, but you do them so well.”

“It’s women’s work”, Sokka growled, tearing his eyes away. The pale night sky was reflected in the water, sending the unnatural glow of his golden eye back up towards him.

“What about the Wall?”, Hakoda questioned, drawing his gaze away from the water and back towards their village. The wall that surrounded the collection of tents and huts was made of choppy, crude ice, reinforced with snow along both sides. “It’s strong. Without the other men there to build, you’ll be the only one able to make it that strong.”

Hakoda then reached to his belt, removing something from his belt. A Machete-Club, long and sharp with a heavy ball of metal topping the bone weapon. His father’s Machete-Club. “You are right. You’ve trained so hard for this, to be the best you can. But I need you to stay here. I need you to protect your sister. Your grandmother. The other women and children. Could you leave them behind?”

Sokka wanted to say that he could. That he knew that he needed to fight the Fire Nation more than anything. More smoke and sparks came from his hands and his mouth, desperately wanting to fight. A burning hot… Something, burned in his chest, desperate to take from the Fire Nation because they had taken so much from him.

But, as he studied the club that his father held between them, he couldn’t do it. Taking in a misty, shuddering breath, the flames died down. “No.” He couldn’t. Not Katara, not his little sister. He had to keep her safe.

With a steady hand, his Dad pressed the grip of the Machete-Club into his hand. The blade quivered in his hand, before Hakoda put his own hand over it. The weapon steadied, and Sokka let out another heavy breath. “Protect them”, Hakoda said, before pulling Sokka into a hug. Despite the chill of the sunless sky and the wind, Sokka felt warm.

Sokka barely noticed as his dad left him, still clutching the Machete-Club, and boarded the ship. Barely noticed as the last of the supplies and the crew was brought on board. Barely noticed as the gangplank was lifted and the robes undone. Finally, he was roused from his stupor by a cry of “Sokka!” Turning, he saw Katara running towards him, and lantern held in her hand as she came to a stop next to him.

Both of them held one another as they watched their father standing on the back of the ship, waving to them. The ship merged into the mass of the War Fleet, leading the other ships out into open water. The lantern burned, joining the light given off by Sokka’s flame-laced breath. “Come on”, he said, adjusting his grip on the Machete-Club as he held Katara close. He led her back towards the village, Gran-Gran giving them both a sullen look from the gate.

That hug, that purpose that his father gave him still smoldered in his chest. For once, even in the depths of winter and the frozen winds of early morning, he felt warm.

Chapter 10: Fathers - Part 2

Zuko fell to his knees, locking his eyes on the stones beneath him. He knew that he would have to give a public apology for breaking the decorum in the War Room. Conviction burned in that told him that he was right, but he had to. His “backing out” of an Agni Kai would be shameful, but better than revealing the son of the Firelord was a Nonbender.

The fact that his father stood across from him instead of General Bujing made no real difference. He bowed, falling to his knees. “I’m sorry, Father. I meant no disrespect; I only had the Fire Nation’s best interest at heart. I profusely-”

“Rise and Fight, Prince Zuko”, his Father said, approaching slowly. Zuko could feel his blood freezing in his veins. He couldn’t, not really. Only the lack of knowledge he wasn’t a Firebender allowed this duel to go ahead at all. He couldn’t reveal this to the arrayed crowd, so what did his father expect him to do!?

“I-I am your loyal son!”, Zuko called, shrinking down further. “I… I-”

“You will learn Respect”, the Firelord said, finally coming to a stop in front of him. Zuko looked up as two hands were placed upon him. One held his shoulder in a vice, while the other caressed his face. Zuko could only pray that this would be enough to make it up to-

“And suffering shall be your teacher.”

XXXXX

Zuko awoke, but he couldn’t see anything. His eyes felt like they were made of brass, and he struggled to open his eyes. He groaned, shifting underneath a thin blanket that covered his body. A dull throb came from his face and head, ever present even as he tried to force himself to see something.

Finally, he managed to open his eyes. Well, eye; his left remained stubbornly shut, revealing only an inky black void. From his right, he was temporarily blinded by bright light coming in through an open window. That didn’t make any sense. It was supposed to be sundown, that was when-

The one eye he had vision in went wide as the half-forgotten dream and the events of the previous two days ran through his mind. The War Meeting he wanted to attend in order to better prepare himself to support the Firelord. Him speaking up about the plan to sacrifice the 41st Division, breaking both decorum and his promise to his uncle. The declaration and preparation for the Agni Kai. Everything, down to the feel of his tears evaporating on his face, came through to him at once. He was going to be sick.

“Ah”, a voice, calm and cold as a mountain stream, spoke. Looking up, he saw his father, rising from a seat in the corner of the room. Zuko averted his gaze, looking at the sheets that covered him. The floor, the walls, the bedframe, the legs of the chair; anything to avoid looking into those molten eyes.

Unbidden by the lack of eye contact, his father approached the bed. Soon, his view of the floor was replaced by the flowing robes of the Firelord. A hand rose from the robes, and… placed something on Zuko’s chest.

One of his Waterbending Scrolls. “This was found in your desk”, the Firelord said, voice soft yet hard as steel. He couldn’t tell if he was angry; he could never tell if it was anger or indifference when Zuko was in his presence. “Why?”

Zuko wanted to speak. He wanted to lie and say that it was research for one of his tutors. He wanted to tell him it was just a passing interest. He wanted to beg for forgiveness. He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Ozai scowled, before his face assumed a bored expression. He raised a hand, gently cupping his chin and bringing eye contact between them. “Show me.”

How did he know? Did Azula tell him? No… No, she wouldn’t. They’d been angry with each other more often and had a bad fight recently, but she wouldn’t sell him out like this! He’d been so careful, practicing with his scrolls out of sight and at night. There shouldn’t be any way he could know!

… And yet, he did. Somehow, he knew. Whether it be Azula, someone seeing him, or if he could simply smell his impure blood, it didn’t matter. He knew.

He felt around for a source of water. Some of the scrolls spoke about how blood and other bodily fluids could be bent, but that was only theoretical. Finally, his good eye fell on a small bowl of water sitting on a table near his bed.

He raised a hand and twisted his fingers. The water in the bowl rippled, then flowed up to circle his hand. Ozai’s eyes narrowed, smoldering as he watched. Finally, as if he couldn’t stomach it any more, he lashed out, grabbing Zuko’s wrist.

The water fell, Zuko gasping in pain as his father’s grip tightened. “I kept you alive. You had no spark, and yet I showed you great mercy. Do you understand that? I have let you live when you were born, frail and sickly in winter. I let you live when you never developed fire. I let you live even as you tainted my daughter, my true heir, with your weakness. Now, I have let you live after you disrespect me publicly. Do you understand that?”

Zuko, still feeling a pressure on his throat that made him unable to speak, could only nod in his agreement. He knew all too well. That dull fear that smothered him whenever father was in the same room as him rose in pitch. He acknowledged the mercy, and would say so if he could force his tongue to speak.

Father continued to scowl, which turned fully to Zuko. “You shame me, Zuko. Everything you have done since you were born has shamed me.” Zuko nodded, his throat burning as he wanted to speak. “Everything. This is only the most recent shame you have leveled on me!”

Unable to speak, he could only do one thing. He slid, falling from the bed. His vision swam and his face itched and muscles ached, but he still rose. He knelt, forehead on the ground. The bandages that covered the left side of his face finally appeared in his vision, chafing against the cold floor.

Silence reigned between the two of them for several moments. Finally, Ozai let out a deep breath, placing a hand on the back of Zuko’s back. He flinched, but did his best to restrain it. “You are weak, Zuko. Disgraced and without honor, even before the Agni Kai. However, I am Merciful. I have shown you that I am Merciful.” Zuko nodded, going rigid as his father ran a finger down his spine and traced his bandages with it.

The Firelord marched away from Zuko, stopping at the door. “The Doctor’s say that you will recover within three months. In two, you will be on your way to the Omashu Front. Since you are so concerned about the 41st Division, you can fight with them. Fight, and regain some form of Honor.”

The door slammed shut, causing Zuko to shudder. His vision swam as he crawled up back onto the bed. With a flick of his wrist, he bent away his tears, tiny darts of ice flying into the bowl of water next to him. He lay there, gazing at the floor as everything ached and twitched. Despite the warmth of the room, the blankets, and the air outside, he felt cold.

Chapter 11: Destiny - Part 1

Sokka could only look at the sinking wreckage of their canoe. He shivered, light spray and snow covering him. He begins to pry open his parka, preferring sun exposure as opposed to chilled fur on his skin. “You ok?”, he asked his sister as she climbed up onto the Ice Floe with him.

“Yeah”, she said, sitting down next to him. “You?” Sokka nodded, closing his eyes as he splayed his arms to absorb as much of the limited sunlight as he could. “Good.” With that, she punched him, pulling him out of his small trance. “You call that left?”

“Hey”, Sokka said, rubbing his arm. “You’re the Waterbender. Why couldn’t you have used that to move us away if you didn’t like my steering?”

“It doesn’t work like that!”, Katara snapped, rising to her feet and looking down at her older brother. As Sokka opened his mouth, Katara jerked up her hand. “And don’t you dare say anything about me not being getting in the way!”

“You did!”, Sokka said. “You didn’t soak me, I might be able to-”

“NO!”, Katara yelled, throwing up her hands and giving her brother a deathglare. She stomped the packed ice they stood upon, inadvertently sending cracks spidering up a nearby iceberg. “You don’t get to hide behind you being a Firebender when it suits you! Ever since Dad left, you’ve been playing soldier and using that to hide from any chores that don’t involve fire!”

“Katara, calm dow-”

“I will not! You nut-brained, sexist- I can’t believe I’m related to you!”, she yelled, stomping again and swinging her hands. A loud cracking pulled her from her rant, joining Sokka in gazing at the Iceberg behind them collapsing into the ice. “Did I do that?”

“Yep”, Sokka said. “Real impressive, Sister. Maybe you can get us back to the Village like that? Hmm…”

“Wait, Sokka”, she said, pointing to the iceberg. Nestled in the remains of the iceberg was a large orb like an eyeball. Inside, lit by the pale sunlight, was a large shape like a Giant Isodog and a small, human person. After rubbing his eyes and squinting, he realized that the light wasn’t the sun lit up from the sun; the light was coming FROM the Iceberg. “I think there’s someone in there!”

She grabbed his club, racing across the ice towards the marble and beginning to hit it. “Katara!”, Sokk called after her, grabbing his spear and parka. “Stop! We don’t know what’s in there!” However, he was too late, as one of her swings shattered the ice.

A blast of wind sent them both sprawling, a bright blue light sent shining up into the sky. Sokka gulped. Even though the Fire Nation hadn’t gotten anywhere near their village in years, if one of their Patrol boats had seen this, then they would come running.

The figure emerged from the ice. They were… a lot smaller than Sokka thought, dressed in weird orange and yellow clothes that looked ill-suited to the Arctic environment. They took a few steps forward, the weird tattoo on their bald forehead still glowing. Sokka raised his spear, keeping it trained on the figure. Until it tumbled out of the iceberg and fell in front of them.

Katara dropped his club and began to approach the boy. “Katara”, he hissed, picking up his club and holding it at the ready. “He could be dangerous.”

The boy muttered something Sokka couldn’t quite make out. Katara leaned closer, angling her ear towards his mouth. Sokka was ready to come to her defense until the boy said at regular volume, “Would you like to go penguin-sledding with me?”

Or… Or maybe not.

XXXXX

“My Watchtower!”, Sokka yells, watching as the boy, Aang, tumbles free from the wreckage. The ice of the tower fell outside of the village, while the snow Katara had bent around it fell on top of the Airbender. The sickening crack of the ice shattering outside of the walls made him shiver.

“Sorry”, Aang says, looking up at Sokka sheepishly. Sokka just sighed and yanked the boy up. Sokka lit up a flame in his hand, beginning to clear away the snow before he was interuppted by a loud gasp from Aang. “You’re a Firebender!?”

“Yep”, Sokka muttered. Soon, the snow was reduced to a large puddle, sinking into the snow near the base of the wall.

“Cool”, Aang said. “How’d you-”

“Don’t want to talk about it”, Sokka said, standing up and marching away from the wall and back towards a fire that burned in the middle of the village.

Katara came over to Aang, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. Sokka and his bending… Well, it’s complicated.”

“Why would it be?”, Aang asked, looking up at her, his expression puzzled. “I mean, I’ve never heard of someone from the Fire Nation marrying into the Water Tribe, but-”

“He’s not Fire Nation”, Katara said, immediately and harshly. Her voice softened as a tension she didn’t know she had released. “Apparently he was saved by a Spirit when he was born. That’s what gave him his Firebending. Though, Sokka insists that it’s a curse.”

“What else would it be when I have the bending of the enemy!?”, Sokka yelled over from where he was sitting next to Gran-Gran, holding his hand out. The flames grew in intensity for a brief moment, before returning to their previous size.

“The enemy?”, Aang asked. “What do you mean?”

Everyone in earshot turned to look at Aang with their own puzzled expressions. “You’re kidding, right?”

Before Sokka could get a proper reply, Aang cried out, “Penguin!” The afformentioned creature looked over at the village from the ice bank it was standing on. It turned and scampered away, Aang and Katara in hot pursuit. Sokka just looked away, willing the fire to flare again.

A short time later, a bright white flare shot into the sky, and black snow once again fell on the Southern Water Tribe.

XXXXX

Mist had swallowed the black dot of the Fire Nation cruiser as soon as he’d sighted it. Not knowing when it would approach or even from where, Sokka had positioned himself on the wall near the gate. The oily war paint covering his face and the treated leather armor hung on him as if he was wearing a burial shroud.

He couldn’t fight the Fire Nation. Even with his firebending, they would be easily able to overpower him with numbers alone. Still, as Gran-Gran and his sister raced to get everyone ready to move, he could hope to hold them off so they could get away.

A horn blared, piercing and harsh like the cry of a Polar-Bear Dog. Everyone in the village stopped what they were doing to join Sokka’s wide-eyed gaze at the seeming mountain of metal that emerged from the fog.

Sokka lept away from the wall, falling into the snow as the prow of the ship shattered his wall into chunks. The fog around it cleared as the warship cast a dark shadow across the entire village. Sokka shivered as the sun was cut off from him, but forced himself back to his feet.

A section of the bow broke off, a gangplank lowering to break apart what little remained of his wall. The black insides of the ship were revealed as if opening its mouth, and disgorged soldiers. Two marched in front, wearing skull-shaped helmets and unarmed; Firebenders, no doubt.

Behind them marched a third man, wearing armor similar to the other two soldiers. Beyond the sash that covered his breastplate, the main difference between him and the others was that he lacked a helmet. His smirking face and stupid-looking sideburns instilled an immediate, blazing hatred in Sokka.

With a shrill warcry, he raced towards the Firebenders. The two in front dropped into battle stances while the man with the sideburns watched with seeming amusement. Simultaneous fireballs were launched at Sokka. He managed to bring up his club and block the blasts, but was nevertheless sent falling into the piled snow next to the warship.

A chill immediately threatened to set in as he struggled to free himself from the tightly packed snow. Other footsteps on metal indicated more Fire Nation soldiers had come down the ramp into the village. The now unprotected village.

“I am Commander Zhao of the Fire Nation Navy”, someone, presumably the guy with the sideburns, said. “Earlier today, there was a great beacon of light. A great release of spiritual energy. Then, a flare from a Fire Nation vessel was fired. Tell me what you know of these occurrences, and I will not turn this miserable hovel into a ruin.”

Sokka was finally able to pull himself free, gasping for air and to put warmth back into his sluggish limbs. Whirling around, he saw sideburns and the soldiers standing in front of the hudled, terrified mass of the other villagers. Sure enough, more soldiers had joined Zhao and the Firebenders; nonbenders, by the look of them, wearing simpler armor and carrying glaives. Another one had no helmet, this one wearing a simpler sash and possessing greying hair.

Sokka pulled his boomerang free, hurling it in an arc that would take Zhao in the head. He raced forward, gripping his club in both hands. Caught off guard by the sudden attack, he was able to slam the club into the helmet of one of the Firebenders, a metallic clang followed by the crunch of the soldier hitting the snow.

Zhao turned just as quickly, slamming a kick into Sokka’s gut. A flaming palm sent him skittering back, slamming into an igloo. Sokka looks up, seeing Zhao smirk at him. “Pitiful savage.”

The boomerang finished its arc, coming back around towards where Sokka had thrown it from. Zhao, however, seems to sense it coming, as he grabs the Firebender that Sokka had clubbed in the face. A muffled protest came from the soldier before the boomerang impacted, sending him once again sprawling in the snow.

“Pitiful, but clever”, Zhao said. He gestured, and two of the nonbender soldiers raced over to Sokka. Their glaives were leveled at him while Zhao turned back to the crowd. “Again, tell me everything, or the boy dies.”

The villagers huddled close, fear clearly written across their faces. While he knew that none of them would throw him under the Elephant-Walrus, he knew they had to be thinking about how to get out of this. They all loved Aang, but would they surrender what they knew to sic the Fire Nation on a guest that easily?

As it turned out, they didn’t need to. Aang came through a section of collapsed wall on the back of an otter-penguin. After Sokka had forced the Airbender to leave, he honestly never thought he’d see him again. He barreled down many of the soldiers, Zhao only able to barely get out of the way. He rose from his living sled, twirling his staff. A blast of wind sent the two soldiers in front of Sokka slamming into the wall; Sokka let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Zhao’s startled face settled back into that smug grin. “An Airbender? And here I thought your kind had been eradicated.” Aang’s stance faltered, his staff lowering slightly. “That beacon… You must be the Avatar.”

Both Sokka and Katara exchanged shocked glances. Katara might have had her own suspicions, but to have them confirmed…

Zhao sent a bolt of fire at Aang, who twirled his staff to deflect the fire. As the other firebending soldier joined in, the flames whipped around Aang, cries of alarm ringing out from the children. In a brief reprieve, Aang called out, “If I go with you, will you leave these people alone?”

Zhao stopped, gesturing for the soldier to do the same. His confident smirk turned into a simpler smile, as if placating a child. Sokka didn’t trust him, slowly reaching for his club. “Of course. You have my word, Avatar. I will not harm this village if you surrender.”

“Don’t listen to him, Aang!”, Katara yelled. She would likely have surged forward had Gran-Gran not held her in place. Aang held up his hands, smiling at Katara in his own attempt to reassure her.

“Lieutenant Jee”, Zhao spoke. The other helmetless soldier, who had been arranging for the one Sokka had pummeled to be dragged back to the ship, stood at attention. “Secure the Avatar.” The Lieutenant nodded, and a pair of the soldiers ran up and disarmed Aang. His hands were bound with rope, and he was led up the gangplank towards the mouth of the ship.

Just before it seemed he would be swallowed whole by the Fire Nation monster, Zhao turned to his remaining men. “The rest of you! Burn this heap to the ground!”

Flames ignited in the hands of Zhao and the other Firebenders. Screams erupted from the villagers as they ran from the balls of fire that slammed into their huts and tents. A cry of “NO!” came from Aang. Panicked yelps came from the soldiers that Aang sent tumbling off the gangplank with a gust of wind.

Sokka rose, igniting a ball of fire of his own. He threw it at Zhao, who raised a hand to effortlessly deflect it. For the first time, the arrogant commander seemed to look at him. “Well, it seems one of the Raiders had some-”

He was interuppted by the storm that seemed to form instantly in the center of the village. All eyes fell on Aang as the boy floated up into the air. His airbender tattoos began to glow a baleful blue, his angry eyes opening to reveal the same glow. The fires were snuffed as water flowed with the swirling air around them to remove their fuel.

Sokka could only watch, wide-eyed. “He is the Avatar”, both he and Zhao murmured. Sokka backed off, heading towards the other villagers.

The other soldiers were blown off their feet, scrambling to escape the whirlwind of snow and blinding wind. The helmetless officer yelled for them to retreat; needless to say, they took their chances. All save Zhao, who tried to fight the Avatar in that state.

Blasts of fire greater than any Sokka could cook up flew towards Aang. All of them were sucked up into the vortex. A blast of all three elements flew at Zhao, knocking him off his feet. Two soldiers grabbed ahold of him as he landed with a sickening thud near the gangplank, quickly pulling him aboard. Arrows and bolts of fire flew from the deck as the ship backed up, sliding back into the water and fleeing.

That stored-up ice and wind and fire was finally released, flying towards the cruiser. It smashed into the deck, sending the crew scattering in all directions. The whole vessel shuddered and bucked, but held together. Aang floated to the ground, the energy keeping him animated falling away as the glow faded. Katara caught him, holding the shaking boy close as the Cruiser fled.

Sokka joined them, placing a comforting hand on his sister. She sunk into him, still gripping the blank-faced Aang. He looked up, watching as the Cruiser limped its way toward the horizon, dipping out of sight behind an Iceberg.

XXXXX

Sokka watched as Katara comforted Aang, speaking softly to him in the shadow of his supposedly flying Bison. He obviously couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he kept stealing glances towards them as if making sure they wouldn’t disappear.

“You know what you have to do”, Gran-Gran said as she picked up the chest that Sokka had just finished packing. “Go with them.”

“I’m supposed to protect the Tribe”, Sokka said, allowing his gaze to wander to what remains of his tribe. Everything of value had been taken from their igloos and tents and piled up onto sleds. Another tribe was less than two days away, and one of them had already gone ahead to inform them of their situation.

Gran-Gran placed a hand on Sokka’s shoulder. “Protect your sister. Neither of us could stop her. She’ll go with the Avatar.” She turned him around, allowing her to place both hands on his shoulders. “And you need to go with them.”

Sokka grit his teeth and balled his hands into fists. He wanted to say no; his father had explicitly said that he was to protect the tribe. He had to stay here and take care of his Gran-Gran and the boys, and… He sighed and relaxed. He knew he had to go with them. “I… I’ll miss you, Gran-Gran.”

“Me too”, she said, pulling him into a hug. “Remember. No matter what happens and what others say, you are Water Tribe. Never forget that.”

He patted her back, shuddering. Was it from the cold or from… Well, that didn’t matter. He headed over towards the massive creature as Katara and Aang were climbing on board. “Wait up!”, he called, running up the creature's wide tail like a ramp.

Katara beamed at him, saying, “You’re coming with us!”

“Of course”, Sokka said, tossing his pack onto the saddle next to the other gathered supplies. “I can’t just leave my little sister to fend for herself.” At her glare, he held up his hands and added, “Besides, how else could I get a little payback at the Fire Nation?”

Aang nodded, his smile still sad. Katara had explained when she’d helped load supplies onto the saddle that Aang had been born 100 years ago. That smile made him look the part. Still, he continued, brightening it as he called out, “Appa, Yip-Yip!”

Sokka screamed as the beast took off into the air. That scream petered off as he saw his tribe and the ice floes below them fade into the distance, clouds beginning to appear surrounding them. That scream transformed into a triumphant cry, which he totally didn’t use to ignore his sister's smug look.

The clouds parted as they flew towards the sun, an unseen destiny just over the horizon.

Chapter 12: Destiny - Part 2

The pale sliver of the moon appeared from behind the thick clouds as Zuko made his approach.

Beyond that faint glow, the only visible light was the lanterns carried by the Earth Kingdom sentries. They cast shadows down from the fortress wall onto the surrounding land, jagged shades like great teeth biting into the tall grass. More of that light came from Zuko’s left; he tilted his head to get a proper view of the gatehouse. At least four guards nestled beneath the overhang of the gate, their own lanterns casting shadows that intersected with those of the wall.

It was into those overlapped shadows, the darkest on this already dark night, that he sprang. He flattened himself against the wall, looking up as the unseen soldier moved away from the gatehouse. Once he was away, Zuko opened one of his flasks.

He pulled the water free, backing up slightly to allow for more of the wall to be visible. It swirled around his hand, and with a deft punch, he sent it flying into the smooth stone. It froze on contact, blown out to create a handhold.

He repeated the process another couple of times until he had a series of handholds to move up. He sprang off the ground, grabbing one of them before pulling himself up to another. Soon, he was on top of the wall, using the pommel of his Dao to knock out one of the sentries.

With a wave of his arm, the ice melted back into water and was called up to him. It swirled around his arm like a coiling serpent, before being forced back into his flask. Eyes darting to either side, checking to see if his infiltration had thus far been noticed. When he was sure he wasn’t, he began to move along the wall towards the gate.

Only one more sentry was in the way, and he was silenced by a series of quick strikes before he could even utter a noise of shock. Soon, the blocky gatehouse was in front of him, a basic wooden door separating him from the guards inside.

He peeked through the small gap between the door and the wall, eyeing the three soldiers playing some kind of car game around a low table. A pair of torches illuminated them, as well as the great slab of rock that acted as the only real way in or out of the fort.

Water once again wrapped around his arm, two tendrils circling one another around his forearm. He kicked the door open, twin water whips flying and striking the torches. Steam filled the room as the torches spluttered and died, darkness falling on the soldiers before they could react.

The thick vapor of steam hardened into ice that enshrouded one soldier before he could even rise from his chair. He stepped forward with a lunge, spearing another with the water that still coiled around his arm. The blast sent the soldier sprawling, knocking over the table and spilling the cards and coins across the floor.

The third soldier stood and assumed an Earthebending stance, though froze up as he got a good look at Zuko. Or, rather, at the fang-filled grin of the blue mask incorporated into his helmet. “T-t-the Bl-b-blue Spi-” Zuko silenced his stammering with a pair of quick punches to his gut and throat.

Zuko once again drew his blades, stepping around the neutralized Earth Kingdom soldiers to the gatehouse window. The moon gave off little light, but there was just enough to send pale flashes into the darkness that encircled the fort.

From behind a hill, a cart began to approach. Ostrich-Horses trotted alongside the cart as it calmly approached the gate, drawing the attention of the soldiers below. The lantern attached to the cart sputtered, the soldier next to the driver shifting his spear from one shoulder to the other. The signal to continue.

Zuko sprang from the gatehouse building, racing across the perimeter wall. The sentries he met in his sweep of the wall were universally sleepy and unprepared, and none of them were benders. A sudden strike or a few quick slashes were enough to silence them. The only time he needed his bending was when one of the sentries was close enough to another to see what happened. Zuko froze his mouth shut, before using more water to bash him against the ramparts.

By the time Zuko had finished his rush of violence, his troops were in position. Grey armored soldiers spilled out of the back of the cart, while the Earth Kingdom sentries lay scattered around the gate. Grappling hooks thrown up to him nestled around the ramparts, the attached rope ladders being yanked up seconds later. The drivers and riders had started to shuck off their Earth Kingdom uniforms, revealing the same grey armor underneath their heavy coats.

With practiced ease, they climbed up onto the walls. More ropes were affixed to the walls as Zuko angled his swords to catch the faint moonlight once again. The tall grass surrounding the fort wrestled and shifted as shadows rose. As one, the 41st advanced towards the wall, only a faint whistling of shifting grass signaling the advance.

Those already on the wall made haste towards the stairs, descending into the inner courtyard. Daggers and arrows made quick work of any Earth Kingdom soldier caught outside their barracks. Months, if not years of these Nighttime Raids showed in the swift movement towards the designated objectives.

Off to his left, someone cried out before being silenced. Voices, some bleary with sleep while others were wide awake and laced with panic, came from the barracks that ringed the yard. Zuko scowled beneath his mask, before lifting his hand in a signal. Weapons were readied and fire danced from the fingers of his units benders as they met the barely awake Earth Kingdom garrison.

Zuko himself uncorked both of his flasks, all of the water he carried on him answering his call. The water seemed to dance beneath the silver glow of the moon as it enveloped his form. His heart pounded in his chest as he began to send the water in all directions, lancing out and striking down his Firelord’s enemies.

XXXXX

Zuko watched from the smoldering remains of the Commander’s quarters as the Earth Kingdom prisoners were dragged into the center quartyard. Stripped of their armor and helmets, the soldiers were forced onto their knees by the surrounding 41st soldiers.

“Colonel Kuzon?” The question signaled the arrival of Major Teruko. He turned towards her, the name that his father had given him after being sent to the 41st drawing his attention. His second in command had removed her helmet, revealing the jagged scar across her cheek; a reminder of their first battle.

“Major”, he replied, careful to be out of earshot from the Earth Kingdom prisoners. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. “What are our casualties?”

Major Teruko nodded gravely, before bowing to her superior. “Thirty-two wounded… fifteen dead.”

Zuko nodded back to her, before once again looking towards the prisoners. Few of the Earthbenders had the sense to surrender, mostly scared nonbenders throwing themselves at the mercy of their superiors. Scared raw recruits, for the most part; caught off guard and thrown to the wolves of a superior force. Like the 41st would have been. Like it almost was.

(Sunrise over Gi Wai Zifao reflecting off of the muddy ground. Not mud; blood. Torn up earth and half-buried bodies. Some places dried and charred black with unrecognizable, scorched corpses. Only a few soldiers in red stood, boots smeared with mud and blood and rain. Too few. You failed again; you couldn’t save them, you miserable disgrace. All that effort, the disgrace of a night attack, you still couldn’t live up to your father’s-)

“Sir”, Teruko said, pulling him from the quagmire of his thoughts. “Sir, we won. General Yoka’s men will be here soon. Should I get the men ready to move?”

Zuko nodded. Teruko put back on her helmet and marched down the steps to where the bulk of the unit was stationed, shouting orders and directing the men to prepare to give up the fort to the regular army.

Zuko took a few moments to breathe and calm himself. Obviously, his Father did care about him and his successes. The 41st was making headway on the Omashu front, the city itself not far from the frontline now for the first time in the war. Soon, he would help take Omashu, crushing the resistance in the Southern Earth Kingdom. Even if he wasn’t earning the honor for his name, surely his Father would see his worth after such a victory.

The pounding of boots foreshadowed the arrival of the regular army. The gate of the fortress had been blown open after the last of the resistance had been cleared. A column of Firebenders and Komodo-Rhino Riders entered through the gap, regular infantry following in after them.

His troops stood out even more when normal Fire Nation forces were in the same area. The dark reds of the normal army stood out against the slate-gray and short-cut uniforms of the 41st. The nonbending troops of the Fire Nation were uniformly armed with glaives, while a mix of swords, glaives, axes, Earth Kingdom warhammers, and bows, were equipped by even the benders amongst his troops.

What most divided his men were their helmets. Normal troops wore conical helmets with protective aventails down the backs of their necks, while Firebendres wore skull-faced helmets. To a man, all of his men wore helmets resembling his own. A different color and nowhere near as intricate in design, but fang-filled grins were sent out at both allies and foes from the 41st Battalion.

General Yoka greeted him at the gate, still mounted atop his Komodo-Rhino. Zuko bowed, hands pressed together in salute. “Excellent work, Colonel Kuzon”, the General said, inclining his head in return. “Most excellent.”

Teruko came up next to him, bowing towards their superior as well. It got easier now that they were no longer under Bujing's command. “Almost the entire fort is intact and we have four hundred prisoners.”

Yoka nodded at Teruko’s report, finally sliding down off of the saddle. He was at least three times the age of either of them, but moved with a surprising vigor in his step. “Take them back with you when you return to our previous position. Oh, and Colonel?”

With a wave of his hand, a soldier came around the Rhino. He bowed towards Zuko, holding out a simple scroll. A scroll with a small black band tied around one side.

“You have new orders”, the General said. “Straight from the Firelord himself.”

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Zuko read through his new orders. Then did it again. And a third time. He… he just couldn’t believe it.

His scar itched as he read the note at the bottom of the page, beneath the signature and stamp of confirmation. Unlike the rest of the orders, which had clearly been penned by the professional, large hand of a scribe, this was small, orderly, and neat. His father’s handwriting.

The Avatar, the mythical master of all four elements and the last great threat to the Fire Nation’s destiny, had returned. He’d been sighted by some naval commander named Zhao in the South Pole. No doubt he would head north to find masters, if the report of him being a child was accurate. And, in addition to Zhao’s taskforce, the 41st had been given the honor of hunting the Avatar.

He swirled his coffee with a lazy hand, his bending causing ripples and sprits in the dark liquid. It really was an honor. A real chance to prove his worth and that he was capable of serving the Dragon Throne. The Firelord could only trust something like this to someone who was capable. And, if a cynical part of his brain was to be believed, someone expendable.

Well, to be fair, he was. The Waterbender son of the Firelord; who better to prevent the Avatar from destroying all that the Fire Nation had worked for? He looked up, staring into the eyes of his helmet. Into the eyes of the Dark Water Spirit that now served Dragon Emperor. Well, the Waterbender that served the Firelord.

“Sir?”, Teruko spoke, still outside of his tent. Zuko quickly pulled on his helmet, stepping out to greet her. “Then men are ready.”

Zuko followed her towards the raised bit of earth that separated the tents of the officers that separated the tents of his men. Three columns of his men stood at attention, eyes on that rise. He had a view of all six hundred of them, a far cry from the two thousand that had been there when he first took command.

(Bodies thick as grass that littered that damned hill. Crushed and hacked to bits and half buried and some burned. Bare patches of green from dead Earth Kingdom, but more red. By far more red, both uniforms and so, so much blood. Darkness fell away before Agni’s light showing just how much of it there was, making his scar and his arms and his chest burn-)

A hand on his right shoulder. Teruko. The only officer to make it out of their first mission alive besides him. He looked down again, specifically at the first sections. Red stripes down their shoulders and horns on their helmets that framed the red demonic faceplates. A hundred of them, the only survivors from his first mission. The rest were replacements, enough to bring the 41st up to Battalion strength.

He took a deep breath, removing her hand from his shoulder. “Attention!” Every single soldier went rigid at his call. “Three years ago, I was placed in charge of this unit. I have strived to lead you as best I can. And even if I have failed in that sometimes, you have all done exceptionally well. Who would have thought that a Battalion of Colony Brats and a Waterbender could do all that we could!?” The men banged their weapons and armor in assent.

“Every single one of you, from those who fought with me at Gi Wan Zifao to those whose first mission was last night have proven yourselves true sons and daughters of the Fire Nation”, he continued. Not himself, obviously. This was his chance to prove himself. “And now, we have been given a mission from the Firelord himself!” That silenced whatever lingering jubilation was in the air.

“The Avatar has returned!” Gasps and shocked whispers. “He has already attacked a Fire Nation ship, nearly slaughtering the crew. We have been given the honor of hunting for the Avatar! Of snuffing out the last threat to the Great March of Progress!” Cheers and more banging of weapons. “You have all done well last night. Get some sleep. We head for Ju-Jing Port tomorrow. Dismissed.”

As his men returned to their tents, Zuko looked up at the bare sliver of moonlight that remained. The new moon would be up tomorrow, and there would be no moonlight to light the march towards their embarkation point. “You should sleep too, Colonel”, Teruko said; Zuko just nodded and retired to his tent.

He dreamt of a blood-red moon, and twin streaks of black and white.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Midnight Sun, Midday Moon