Chapter Text
Rolling fog casts a spell of silence over the hills. It brushes the fresh grass. It covers the Wastes like a blanket, hiding the valley while it sleeps. It’s only broken by the first rays of sunlight, poking holes through the mist to illuminate each remaining dewdrop. As the fog recedes, it exposes the valley- vast fields that swell gently into hills and eventually become mountains. The spell is broken, and sounds begin to fill the open space. Birds begin to sing, koala-sheep wandering out to graze step through the wet grass, and another sound joins them from the distance. A loud creaking comes from the hills, still partially obscured by fog. The corner of a building peeks through the fog, and then disappears. The fog shifts, or maybe the building does, and more of it becomes visible again. It’s attached to a whole collection of buildings; a massive, groaning structure that’s been magicked together somehow. Walls, roofs, and windows from various houses and pagodas are pieced together without any obvious pattern, and the entire machine walks across the hills on four enormous, bird-like legs. The creaking noise persists, joined by the sounds of other machinery; cogs turning, steam being released, and giant feet meeting the ground.
The structure is visible for only a few moments before it steps over a hill and wanders off in the direction of the Wastes. The fog obscures it again.
Dark smoke billows past the window as the 5 o'clock train rumbles along the tracks below. The late afternoon sun is pouring through it in golden streams, and it splashes the walls cheerfully. Outside, the people of the town are shouting and cheering in the streets, but Sokka's focus is on the invention in front of him. He’s too close to finishing this prototype to care about whatever festivities are happening outside.
"Sokka!" A voice calls from the main room of the shop, where his coworker is passing his open door. "It’s after hours on a holiday, why are you still working?"
Sokka sits up with a groan, stretching for the first time in probably hours. His coworker Jet is leaning on the doorframe with a raised eyebrow. Jet isn’t his favorite person, and he definitely wasn’t his first choice for a coworker, but he knows weapons. So, Sokka brought him on to help with weapon repairs on days when there’s more intricate work that needs all of Sokka’s attention.
“I just want to get this finished up before I close the shop for the night,” he replies, looking back at the gadget. He’s been working on a personal project in his spare time; a portable device that creates fire on demand. The small metal cylinder holds a flammable gas, which is released in small quantities when he presses a trigger on the top. The trigger also creates a spark, setting the gas alight.
“I think I’ve almost perfected my Alighter,” he boasts with a proud and adoring smile towards his invention.
“Alright, suit yourself,” Jet says, pushing off the doorframe. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He leaves through the front door, and the bell chimes merrily behind him. Sokka continues to tinker with his Alighter, reveling in the new silence in the building.
What had once been his mother's hat shop was now where locals brought anything and everything that needed fixing. After she passed away 15 years ago, the war had proven that the beautiful hats she trimmed were a luxury that the working class had neither money nor use for. In that same time, Sokka gained a reputation in the community as ‘the kid who can fix anything’, and as more and more of their neighbors came by offering him money to take their repair requests, the immigrant family suddenly didn't need to worry about selling hats anymore.
‘Immigrant’ was a bit sugar-coated though, if you asked him. They had really come to Market Chipping as refugees, fleeing the war that had destroyed their native land and left it uninhabitable. They were safe for a few years, and they rebuilt their lives in the peaceful country.
And after his mother died, they rebuilt their lives again.
When the war eventually reached their new home, he and his sister were old enough to take care of themselves - old enough to take care of each other. And that’s what they did. Their father joined the navy, determined not to let the war take a second home from them, and the two teenagers took over running the shop. The Navy sent them a stipend for their father’s service, and it was enough to get by, but the income from the shop really allowed them to be independent.
Sokka sighs again. His pocket watch tells him it’s 5:15.
He had promised Suki that he would meet her at Kiyoshi’s for dinner tonight, even though the local celebrations don’t really mean much to him. It’s been a while since he’s spent time with her, but she can still read him like a book. She had taken one look at him the day before and told him what he hadn’t been willing to admit to himself.
“You need to take a break, Sokka.”
Of course she was right. He's thrown himself into his work even more than usual lately, fixing things for paying customers all day and then tinkering with his own projects late into the night. The “boy who could fix anything” had grown into a man who was bored with fixing other people’s inventions. But, as much as he would rather just work on his own ideas, no one was paying him for them yet.
He holds up the Alighter and presses the trigger with his thumb. With a quiet click a few sparks dance off the ignitor, and a tiny flame appears on the top where the gas is being released.
Yes!
A brilliant grin crosses his face and he jumps up to his feet, shouting in triumph. He releases the trigger, and the flame disappears again.
Perfect!
Satisfied with his work, he pockets the Alighter and prepares to leave. He crosses through the main section of the shop, mostly filled with tables holding things he had salvaged and restored. His boomerang lays in its holster on the employee desk, and he considers slinging the weapon over his shoulder before deciding against it. An armed civilian could be seen as a threat.
He steps into the street, locking the shop behind him. The door still reads "HATTER" in the golden letters painted by his mother when they had first moved in. The paint was a bit dull with age, and a bit chipped maybe, but it was a mark left by Kya. He gives it a sad smile before turning to walk into town.
“Look! It’s Zuko’s castle!”
He’s startled by the shouting of an excitable teenage girl.
“Zuko?!”
A group of girls has stopped in the street to giggle and point towards the edge of town where the Wastes begin. Sokka quickly sees why.
Out in the distance, perched atop the hills that roll along the edge of Market Chipping, Zuko’s castle lurks as if peeking out of the fog. It catches the late afternoon light for a moment, sunbeams gleaming against its turrets, before the fog hides it again. The girls whine about its disappearance as they start to walk again, and Sokka falls into step behind them while they keep gossiping.
“Did you hear about that girl Jin, from Ba Sing Se?” One girl is saying with the excitement of scandal. “They say he stole her heart and ate it!”
“That can’t be true!” A younger girl whimpers, wringing her hands.
“It is true! Why do you think Princess Mai disappeared? She was his first victim!”
“I thought his mother was his first victim?” the girls lower their voices to whispers. “That’s why no one has seen Fire Lady Ursa in years.”
“You think he killed his own mother?” One girl gasps.
“No no no, that doesn’t make any sense,” another replies. “He makes girls fall in love with him and then he steals their hearts. That’s his whole thing.”
“That, or he just steals the whole girl”, one corrects.
“Yeah, I heard no one has seen that Beifong girl in years! And that was a while after Princess Mai vanished.”
“I don’t see why everyone calls her a princess. She never married Zuko, they were just betrothed.”
“It’s out of respect.”
“But why? They’re not even our royalty, they’re Fire Nation-”
“Quiet down!” an older girl hisses, “you can’t just say stuff like that, there are soldiers everywhere.”
That much was true. Market Chipping has been occupied by Fire Nation forces for a few years now. The townspeople who were still loyal to the Earth Kingdom did so quietly.
“Do you think Zuko will go into town for the festival?” a less serious girl giggles.
“Maybe. That’s why we all have to be careful and stick together.”
“We’ll keep an eye out for him.”
“Yeah right, no one even knows what he looks like! He could be anyone.”
“Now I’m too scared to go downtown!” Cries the youngest girl.
“Don’t worry - he only preys on pretty girls!” One teases, and the older girls snicker.
Sokka rolls his eyes as he passes them. Zuko. Prince Zuko. Sure, the rumors are amusing. But that's all they are. There’s no way to confirm any of them. No one has actually seen the prince in about ten years. There was a lot of talk when he disappeared as a teenager, especially when people found out that his betrothed had disappeared on the same night. The nicer rumors involve a dramatic love story in which they eloped. The more common rumors… They speculate that Mai never made it out of the Fire Palace.
Aeroplanes pulling fire nation banners drone overhead. The center of town is loud and bustling, music blaring from the marching band as they proceed a battalion. Soldiers in red march in perfect formations to the pace set by the drums. They move in perfect synchronization, taking up the entire town square with their pomp.
It's just a performance to cripple local morale. Sokka knows this by now. There may be a lot of Fire Nation citizens who have moved to the town in recent years, and they’re all celebrating the flaunted military strength, but most of the locals were born and raised in the Earth Kingdom. They had been here long before the Fire Nation occupation, and they saw this for what it was. A demonstration of their power.
Sokka parts from the crowd, opting for quieter side streets, and the roar of the parade begins to fade as he weaves his way between buildings and down narrow cobblestone alleys.
As he escapes the commotion, he notices another sound behind him. The plodding of clumsy feet matching his pace. Multiple pairs of feet. Soon joined by snickering. And a whistle.
“Where you going, ponytail?”
He clenches his teeth. There’s no one else in the alley. He’s the only one they could be talking to. He’s suddenly very aware of the ends of his hair brushing his shoulders, hanging from where he had tied it back. The hair tickles his neck, and he blames that for the chill that runs down his spine. He narrows his eyes, focusing his gaze forward. I'm not going to give them the satisfaction. Just ignore them. They'll lose interest. He turns down another alley, avoiding the direct route through the city that they were likely taking.
“You look lost, ponytail.”
It’s a warrior’s wolf-tail!
He bites down on another angry retort. When he was younger he wouldn’t have hesitated to take the bait. He had been full of frustration about his circumstances, and he might have been more than a little insecure about being… not as tall as he had hoped he would be. He constantly felt like he had to prove himself.
At least now he’s come to terms with reality. He knows who he is, and he’s accepted it. Even though the reality is just that he is incredibly… average.
The voices continue to follow him around the corner, away from the crowds. Their laughs grow louder. Obnoxious and drunk, they continue to approach Sokka.
“Hey, pretty boy, I'm talking to you.” They’ve caught up to him, and the one talking is leaning in uncomfortably close.
The smell of liquor from the man is the only warning Sokka gets before he feels his head being yanked back by his hair.
He finally snaps. Whirling around as fast as he can, he ducks his head out of the stranger's reach, smacking the hand away as he faces them, furious.
“Leave me alone!” He snarls, dropping into a defensive stance. The strangers - three Fire Nation soldiers in slightly rumpled uniforms - pause for a moment. Then they roar with laughter. They're clearly pleased to have gotten the reaction they were looking for.
“This one's pretty exotic for Market Chipping,” the apparent leader says. “And with those blue eyes? He must be from the Water Tribes.”
Sokka scans the area, looking for the best route of escape. Fighting all three of them is not his safest option, not without his boomerang or any other weapon to defend himself with. He's strong, and a good fighter, but all of the men surrounding him are huge, easily a head taller than him. He would have to rely on his speed, and the advantage of being sober that they obviously were lacking.
“I wonder… Do all tribesmen wear their hair this long?” The soldier leans down, and Sokka can smell the liquor on the man’s breath. “Or just the... effeminate ones?”
He’s already pulling his fist back to throw a punch when the soldiers suddenly go rigid.
They stare at him, confused and frustrated. They don’t move. They seem unable to move any part of their bodies, and they stand frozen, like statues.
“There you are, sweetheart. Sorry I'm late.”
Someone had joined them in the alley. The newcomer approaches and stops beside Sokka, draping an arm around him casually with an air of confidence and a calm smile. The drunk soldiers twitch against their invisible restraints.
Magic.
The wizard turns to look down into Sokka’s face, and he feels at a loss for words. The man is strikingly handsome. His skin is pale like most Fire Nation citizens, but his hair shimmers an ethereal gold, a breathtaking color that matches his eyes perfectly but can't possibly be natural. Sokka’s instincts tell him that this man wields powerful magic. Somehow, he isn’t afraid.
“I've been looking everywhere for you,” The wizard states placidly. It’s obviously a lie, and the soldiers probably know it. But it’s also an excuse to get away from these drunk assholes, so he squashes down his apprehension.
"Hey, we're busy here-" a soldier sputters indignantly.
"Really?" The wizard narrows his eyes at the group of them. "It looked to me like the three of you were just leaving."
He raises a single finger with a smug grin, and the three soldiers straighten like puppets being pulled up by their strings. The soldiers gasp in surprise as their bodies move against their will. With a swish of the wizard's finger, they march away in perfect synchronization. He lowers his hand with a huff and turns his gaze back to Sokka.
"Sorry about them," he murmurs, "not all of us are like that.”
He smiles gently, and Sokka can’t help but think that the stranger has a kind face.
“Where to? I'll be your escort this evening."
My.
Escort?
Sokka stares at him stupidly for a moment.
His brain is not responding.
He was going somewhere. This man - this breathtakingly gorgeous, evidently Fire Nation man - had asked where. He wants to walk Sokka to this location. He wants to know the location. The location that Sokka is walking to. So that he can walk him there.
Where am I going?
The wizard’s golden eyes peer through shaggy bangs to meet Sokka’s, and he tries not to be distracted by them. Say something, say something-
“Oh, uh, I was just going to Kiyoshi’s,” Sokka answers.
Real smooth, dumbass. The wizard looks unfazed.
“Don’t get alarmed, but I’m being followed. Act normal, ” the stranger whispers, removing his arm from around Sokka and linking their arms together.
“Wait, what-?”
Before he can question it, he’s being guided through the narrow alleys by the beautiful stranger.
What business does this guy have “escorting” me anywhere if he’s being followed himself?
As they walk at a steady, measured pace, Sokka sneaks another look at the man beside him. He's dressed flamboyantly, but it seems to suit him. Red jewels shaped like teardrops hang from his ears, and a matching pendant hangs on a long delicate chain around his neck. His coat is adorned with a pattern of large red and black diamonds and gold trim. Rather than use the sleeves, he has the coat draped over his shoulders like a cape.
“So, uh, who are you?” He asks, to break the silence. The man chuckles quietly.
“No one important.”
Well, that clears up everything.
A gurgling noise from behind them startles Sokka. He shoots a glance over his shoulder.
“What the FU-”
“Sorry, looks like you’re involved,” the wizard mutters.
Behind them a mob of monstrous, bulging creatures are seeping out of every crevice in the walls of the buildings surrounding them. The creatures are almost humanoid in shape, if they have any shape at all. They look like sentient heaps of tar or molasses, and they move with the sound of something viscous - thick, wet, and squelching. And for some reason, they’re all wearing Fire Nation soldiers’ helmets.
They're absolutely repulsive.
And they are apparently chasing the wizard.
He grasps Sokka’s arm a bit tighter to regain his attention.
“This way!”
The wizard pulls him around a corner, moving a bit faster, but the monsters continue to gain on them every time Sokka peeks back. Slimy arms stretch out of their blob bodies, reaching for the two men and narrowly missing. They take another turn, and ahead of them-
“Uh, they’re getting closer, what are you doing? This is a dead end!”
The wizard ignores his question completely.
“Hold on!” he replies, grasping Sokka’s shoulders firmly.
“Wha-”
The panicked question dies on Sokka’s tongue as the wizard jumps, lifting Sokka up with him.
Sokka braces himself for… something. At the very least, the impact from falling or hitting a wall, or being grabbed by sticky, slimy hands. But it never comes. After a moment he realizes that instead of falling back to the ground they’ve continued to float upwards. They rise higher and higher, until even their feet are floating above the rooftops.
“Now, straighten your legs,” he instructs, “and start walking.”
How- what?
Best not to question it.
Tentatively, Sokka stretches a leg out, expecting it to swing through the air uselessly.
He doesn't fall.
There's nothing to be felt under his feet, but somehow the air is holding him up as if he weighs nothing. He takes another step, and finds himself moving forward.
“See? Not so hard, is it?” The man says, and Sokka can hear the smile in his voice.
The wizard loosens his grip, taking Sokka's hands and holding them gently in his own. Loose, but reassuring. His hands are smooth and strong, and wonderfully warm. They walk forward through the air, and he begins to relax.
The wizard chuckles, leaning over Sokka's shoulder and into his line of vision.
“You are a natural.”
Sokka is too busy being amazed at walking through the air to focus on how close their faces are, or how he can feel the man’s breath against his ear.
But he definitely notices.
They walk with matching strides, and it feels like a dream. It’s the best dream Sokka has ever had. People celebrating in the streets below take no notice of them at all. They're focused on their own dancing, not knowing it doesn’t compare to the elegance of the men striding through the air above them.
When the peak of a gable approaches them, they both place a foot on it and push off, rising even higher into the sky. The town drifts away beneath them, and Sokka is almost disappointed when Kiyoshi’s comes into view. They drift down to the balcony on the top floor of the building, and the wizard lands gently on the railing. He guides Sokka into a graceful landing on the balcony, and Sokka can’t help missing the warmth of his hands when he lets go.
“I’ll make sure to draw them off,” the wizard says, balancing delicately on the rail. “Wait a bit before you go back outside.”
Sokka can feel himself smiling, even though he doesn’t remember when he had started.
“Okay,” he breathes, only half remembering what he had agreed to.
The wizard grins.
“That’s my boy.”
With a wink, he steps backwards over the balcony railing and drops out of sight.