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“Tell me,” Sokka says, around a yawn, “why did we sleep outside again? Not that I don’t appreciate our awesome sleeping bags, but, like, there’s a whole house waiting for us.” He gestures vaguely at the beach house, looming behind them.
Toph snorts, audible even over the rumble of her tent sinking back into the ground. “So eager to sleep under the same roof as Lord Asshole, Snoozles?”
Sokka sputters, aiming a glare at her, realizing a moment too late that this is entirely lost to her.
“The Fire Lord hasn’t been here in more than a decade.” Zuko isn’t looking at either of them, still facing the fire and clutching at his bowl like it’s his lifeline. His voice is gruffer than usual, and it’s anybody’s guess if it’s because these are the first words he’s spoken this morning, or because of something more mushy, like, Tui forbid, emotions. It’s enough to nip any humor from Toph’s comment in the bud, and the silence that follows has a distinct awkward edge that appears entirely lost on Mr Broody over by the fire.
They are saved from too much awkward silence by Aang, who jumps up from his spot a few feet back from the fire. He'd been pretending to meditate, but now excitement makes his face shine brightly. “How about we check it out once Katara and Suki are back?”
Zuko sighs, the same reluctance that made them all sleep outside rather than in actual beds literally fit for royalty almost palpable in his exhale. Before he can say anything, Aang’s face lights up even more.
“Katara!” he shouts, hopping onto an airball and whirling towards where, indeed, Katara has appeared, hands still wringing out her hair. Suki isn’t far behind her, skin glistening in the late morning sun from the water dripping out of her hair, her hands full with what is probably their travel clothes from the day before. She’s dressed in a tunic-style dress that looks suspiciously like something Katara lifted from a clothes-line a couple Fire Nation villages ago, and she looks absolutely stunning in it. Sokka has to tear his eyes away before he gets caught staring. Aang is distraction enough, yelling a lot louder than warranted by their close quarters. “Wanna check out the beach house now?”
Sokka doesn’t even have to look at his sister to know that she’s smiling indulgently. “I think that’s Zuko’s call,” she says, and the lack of animosity in her voice as she says their newest addition’s name is enough to make Sokka look at her, after all. She isn’t looking at Aang as he’d expected, but rather at Zuko, eyeing him with something that might even be concern if she were aiming it at anyone but him. And, yeah, Sokka has first-hand experience of how much a field trip with the Fire Nation Prince can change your stance toward him, but he… he didn’t actually expect Katara to turn her act around quite that much.
Zuko huffs, and gives no other sign that he’s heard her. Katara grimaces, eyes flashing, and it’s reassuring to see her temper break through for just a moment before she gets herself under control.
Before she can make a snippy comment, Suki chuckles. “Well, if that’s your plan for the day, I hope you won’t mind if I take the opportunity to check out the village?” It makes sense — she’s the most inconspicuous out of all of them; old enough not to raise suspicion at her traveling alone, looking enough like someone from the Fire Nation colonies to fit in. They have talked about this on the way to the island, but that doesn’t mean that Sokka is happy with letting her go off alone. On the other hand, things have been weird enough between them since the prison break that he is a tiny bit relieved to be staying here with a distraction.
Katara swiftly takes her money pouch off her belt and trades it for the clothes Suki is holding. They look grimy enough that even Sokka would hesitate to put them back on, and that is definitely saying something. Suki departs with one last jaunty wave, and then there’s nothing keeping Aang distracted from the prospect of an adventure.
“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and hopeful. It makes him look a bit like a cute lion seal puppy.
Zuko heaves another sigh, before scraping the last mouthful of breakfast out of his bowl. He stands in one graceful, fluid motion that is entirely at odds with his hunched shoulders and bowed head. And then he visibly pulls himself together, squares his shoulder, and sets his jaw. It’s kind of a miraculous transformation from sullen teengaer into something that could pass for royalty. Well. That is royalty? Either way, Zuko exudes Fire Nation Prince in a way he hasn’t really in all the time Sokka has known him, and it’s … actually pretty stunning, if Sokka is honest.
He whistles. “Well, hello there, your Princliness.” He smirks at the withering glare Zuko sends his way, and flicks up an eyebrow. If anything, Zuko’s glare deepens, followed by a pronounced exhale that rearranges Zuko’s expression into one of steely determination.
“I guess there’s no time like the present.”
Aang whoops, and doesn’t even wait for them to get a move on as he speeds away towards the stairs leading up to the beach mansion.
~*~
As eager as Aang clearly is to explore the house, he still defers to Zuko. Zuko, whose determination has melted into a more reserved expression, has an air around him like he’s being led to his slaughter. It’s not entirely clear why, and he offers no explanation. From what little he’s said about this house, it sounded like a place of happy memories for him, which typically do not make people look like they’re about to be executed. But then, nothing about any of them, least of all Zuko, has ever really been what one would call ‘typical’. There’s a certain nervous energy suffused within their group, and even Sokka feels a little jittery.
This is the house where the Fire Lord — the actual, real Fire Lord, most evil person on this whole planet, as far as Sokka knows — used to spend his time with his family, and it feels… illicit? forbidden? most of all strange to think that they will shortly be entering a building where this man has spent time. It humanizes him, Sokka muses as they stop just short of the steps leading to the door. It’s an unremarkable door, wooden, but it is a door which the Fire Lord used to enter his house, and apparently his brain has gotten stuck on this line of thought. On an abstract level, he’s aware that Ozai is just a person — if someone that evil can be called “just a person” — but he’s human, and it feels unsettling to be confronted with that fact.
Zuko sighs again, and makes his way up the steps alone. None of them move to follow him, and for a long, drawn-out moment, Zuko just stands there, unmoving. If anything, the feeling of suspense in the air ratchets up a notch, until breaks the silence. “Go on, Sparky,” she says, and finally something happens. But it's not Zuko moving -- it's the door. On it's own. Just. What. Zuko had promised them that the house was empty, but empty houses don’t have magically opening doors.
Zuko flinches back violently, the only movement in their stunned silence, and then before any of them can gather their wits around them or even move, something barrels out of the door and launches itself at Zuko. Zuko, clearly not braced for an ambush, hits the ground with a thump that sounds like it hurts. “Oof,” two voices say, one deep and gruff, and the other higher — younger?
Moments later, with a flurry of movement, the shape that bowled Zuko over disentangles itself from him and moves a step or so away.
“Lu Ten?” a boy’s voice asks, high and uncertain. Sokka blinks, but the image in front of him stays the same: in front of Zuko, expression slowly blooming into cautious delight, stands a boy, probably a couple of years younger than Aang. He is undeniably Fire Nation, his pitch-black hair gathered up into a tail that sits tall at the back of his head and his skin pale. His eyes, when they flit over Sokka, are a very light brown, almost the colour of honey. It is a distinct colour that Sokka hasn’t seen on many Fire Nation people. But it is also a familiar colour — the same as Zuko’s good eye. A lost relative? Whoever he is, he is clearly dressed for the beach, chest bare and pale underneath the sleeveless red vest.
“Lu Ten?” the kid repeats, voice surer, and this finally startles life back into all of them — well, almost all of them, Sokka has to amend, because all Zuko is doing is slowly losing the colour from his face as his expression morphs from surprise into something akin to horror. Which. Fair. Sokka supposes he would be just as flabbergasted if there suddenly were a young boy storming out of a house he thought unoccupied. Except, heh, Sokka did also expect the house to be empty, and he’s not lounging on the floor looking like he’s seen a ghost.
Aang is the first to recover, bounding over to the boy and sketching a short bow.
“Hi, I’m Aang!” he introduces himself, and his cheerful grin would be entirely believable if Sokka hadn’t spent pretty much every waking moment with him for the past several months. “Who are you?”
The kid bows back, hands forming the traditional Fire Nation flame in front of his chest. “I am honored to meet you,” he says, gaze skittering over their group before returning to Aang. Sokka doesn’t think he imagines the way the boy’s gaze lingers on Zuko. “My name is Zuko. Why are you all standing on our front porch?”
Sokka blinks. Blinks again. Reaches up to rub out his ear. “You…come again?”
The kid frowns, and the expression looks so familiar. Sokka prays to Tui and La, Oma and Shu, any spirit that will listen that he is just imagining all of this, that this is just a coincidence. It has to be.
“I’m Zuko,” the boy repeats, and then goes on in a voice that is smooth with repetition, “son of Ursa and Prince Ozai, grandson of Fire Lord Azulon. Prince of the Fire Nation.”
Silence. Sokka wants to laugh, or cry, or scream. He settles for pinching himself, hard. The scene in front of him stays the same, and yes, the boy bears a certain resemblance to his namesake. So much for his theory of long lost relative.
Speaking of — Sokka’s gaze returns to their Zuko just in time to hear him say, “Oh Agni,” voice shaky, and he is white as a sheet and a bit wild around the eyes. “Oh—” and then his eyes roll into his head as his upper body hits the ground with another solid thump.
~*~
It doesn’t take long for Zuko — the older one, their Zuko — to return back to the land of the living. Just enough time for little Zuko (baby Zuko? No, that sounds weird, he'll just stick with 'the kid') to look at them with wide-eyes, his expression again so familiar, and ask, uncertainly and with a note of fear, “did… did I kill him?”
Sokka huffs a laugh that is entirely mirthless, squashing the desire to run his hands through his hair. He’d only mess up his wolftail, and this feels like a situation where he wants to look his part as a warrior. “You didn’t, kiddo,” he finally says after the silence stretches on for a beat too long and it becomes clear that no one else will say anything.
“Zu--I mean, Lee is just a bit… of a drama queen sometimes, yeah, just dramatic.” Sokka laughs, a bit jittery. The kid doesn’t look entirely convinced, but lets the matter drop.
“I’m Sokka,” Sokka introduces himself before the kid can change his mind and ask another question about their Zuko. “And this is my sister, Katara, and our friend Toph. And, I guess I kinda already introduced Lee. Why are you here?”
The kid squints up at him, suspicion making his eyes glint. He looks like he might argue, before relenting, turning his gaze down to his feet. “My family and I spend our time here. We used to come here with Uncle Iroh and Cousin Lu Ten, but they couldn’t come this year. They’re fighting for Ba Sing Se!” Sokka’s heart drops at how proud the kid looks.
“That’s … very brave of them,” he settles on. Little Zuko nods, before the proud expression slips from his face, replaced with sadness. “I wish they were here though. It’s much less fun with only Azula around to play.” He sighs, rubbing one hand over a spot on his arm that is pink with newly healed skin. Sokka’s heart shrivels up some more.
Their Zuko takes that moment to groan, bringing his arm to cover his eyes. An arm that has just the slightest discoloration at the same spot as the kid’s arm, like a very old burn scar. Sokka does not like this at all.
“Guys,” he says, his voice still so gruff. “I had the weirdest dream.”
Katara and Sokka share a glance, but it is Toph who breaks the news to Zuko.
“I’m afraid it wasn’t a dream, Lee,” she says, and Zuko just lets his head drop back onto the front porch with another groan.
~*~
“That’s not—” Zuko stops, runs a hand through his hair. Exhales. Resumes pacing. “It’s not me.” His eyes are a little wide and pleading as he looks at Sokka, before turning equally pleading eyes at Katara. Katara bites her lip, but doesn’t say anything. Neither does Sokka. Zuko huffs and resumes his pacing. “It can’t be me, because I do not have any memories of being, what, nine, or, or, I don’t know, ten, and meeting this group of — of —” he gesticulates at their campfire, the rolled up sleeping bags, their clothes that have seen better times (to put it mildly), at Appa, as if that says everything. Which, if Sokka’s honest, it does. Or, at least it describes the indescribable-ness of their ragtag band of six teenagers on their way to defeat the evillest person on the planet. Whose son is standing in front of him, and who might just, inexplicably, have a younger version of himself running around with Aang. Two pre-teens displaced in time. It makes Sokka’s heart ache a little, through all the disbelief.
Zuko is quiet for a moment, halted just before his turn to pace back towards the house by the scene in front of him. Aang has taken the kid to meet Appa, fleeing the vicinity of Zuko's mini-breakdown and leaving Katara and Sokka to deal with it. At least the two of them appear to have fun: they watch as the kid clambers up Appa’s leg, his light, care-free laughter so very at odds with the entire situation.
Zuko resumes his pacing, lifting his arms to run his hands through his hair again. It is shaggy, falling into his face to cover the scar, and the resemblance between him and the kid is even more pronounced. When Zuko passes by him next, Sokka grabs his arm. Zuko doesn’t even glare at him, which is slightly disconcerting, but Sokka has a mission. He moves his hand to the spot on Zuko’s arm where the kid’s burn had been. It is barely noticeable on Zuko, just a bit shinier than the surrounding skin, if it weren’t for the total lack of hair at the spot.
“But you also got this burn from your sister, I’d bet,” he says, and Zuko’s look of disbelief is all the answer he needs.
“You — how?” Zuko asks, looking like he’d stumble backwards if Sokka weren’t still holding on to his arm.
“The kid mentioned something.”
As if this were the kid’s summoning, he bounds back over. There is white fur all over his body, stuck on patches that still have a slightly oily sheen. Sokka makes a mental note to ask about this later. Surely the kid hadn’t bathed in a barrel of fish oil before coming out here? (Not to mention that this would surely be obvious from the smell alone, but Sokka is kinda out of ideas here.)
“Did you see? Master Aang has a Sky Bison!” Momo chitters from somewhere as if affronted to not be talked about, and then the kid squeals. A moment later, Momo’s head pokes out of the back of the kid’s vest, who is now shuddering and dancing away from what appears to be quite the tickling sensation of a lemur down his back.
“Momo!” Aang yells, also coming over. The lemur looks, his face a picture of innocence, but settles onto the kid’s shoulder without further antics. The distraction suffices to settle Zuko a bit more, and he takes his spot at the campfire at least not looking like he's about to bold. Or keel over. Or spit fire at any of them. The rest of them follow suit, for lack of a better thing to do, joining Katara who is cutting the rest of their rations into a pot for lunch. It would be better if Suki were back already, but knowing her, this won’t happen for another several hours.
“You never told me what you were doing here,” the kid says, never taking his eyes off Katara. It feels like it should sound accusing, but it doesn’t. He just sounds curious.
Awkward silence stretches, until Aang looks ready to burst with it, rubbing at his neck. Who knows what sorts of inappropriate things he would say, so Sokka takes a breath.
“We’re trying to stop a very evil man from doing something very stupid,” he says, because it’s the truth. It also sounds kinda awesome, put like that, and the kid’s eyes light up.
“Oh! Like in Love Among the Dragons!” he exclaims, and then his face falls. “Azula just always makes me be the bad guy.” Zuko, face visible just so over the kid’s shoulder, looks mortified.
Sokka chuckles, shrugs. “Oh, Katara used to make me—” he stops briefly, rethinking what he’d been about to say, and settles on, “play house. That’s probably more boring than playing dragons.” Katara snorts, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like sure, I made you play that, but what, does she want to tell the kid the truth, about how she made him play the evil Fire Nation soldier to her defending the village? He thinks not, and apparently she comes to the same conclusion, because she doesn’t say anything else.
The kid doesn’t look as cheered as Sokka had hoped for. Instead, he shrugs morosely. “Sounds more fun than running from Azula, that’s for sure.”
“Do you play catch?” Aang asks, looking excited. Sokka has a sinking feeling about this.
“I — no?” the kid makes it a question, casts a questioning glance at Zuko behind him. Zuko shrugs, his expression unreadable, but whatever the kid wanted to know, he seems to have gotten. “I mean, if she catches me it’s usually ugly.” His hand settles on the freshly healed spot on his arm, and Sokka’s stomach turns into a clump of ice in his gut. A large clump. “But I’m pretty good at avoiding her!” Another misplaced sense of pride, and.. Well. If this is to be trusted, maybe Zuko was telling the truth about his relationship. “Sometimes mother stops her, but … Azula is kind of…” he’s quiet for a moment, before he startles as his eyes meet Sokka’s. “I—I don’t think I should be telling you all of this.” His voice is so uncertain and resigned.
“Sometimes it helps to talk about things with strangers,” Zuko says, the first thing he’s actually said to the kid. He still doesn’t look at him.
That… is new. Zuko really isn’t the most talkative person Sokka’s ever met. Pretty much the opposite — he feels like they’ve learned more about him from the kid than Zuko himself. It feels kind of wrong.
“Are you sure you aren’t Lu Ten?” the kid asks. “You kinda… look like him. A lot.”
Zuko’s face does something weird. In the end he smiles at the fire, but it’s a very sad smile. “I am certain I am not. You said it earlier — his father and— he are at the siege of Ba Sing Se.” Zuko’s voice hitches ever so slightly in the middle of the sentence. Grief?
Zuko hasn’t mentioned a cousin, from what Sokka can remember. Only ever him and his sister, and of course his uncle. Sokka doesn’t like the conclusion he arrives at.
“Just — consider talking to someone, okay? I’m pretty sure that’s what your cousin and uncle would want.”
Sokka looks between the two, the kid still leaning ever so slightly in Zuko’s direction like he’s being pulled in by gravity, and Zuko, casting furtive glances through his shaggy hair at the kid.
“I think what Lee is trying to say,” Sokka’s mouth says before his brain is consciously on board, “is that you can talk to him.”
Zuko glares at him, but it’s softened by the way the corner of his mouth lifts up. Or maybe it’s just his scar that’s grimacing and he’s trying to look relieved?
The kid, meanwhile, finally gives in to the pull he seemed to be experiencing and makes his way over to Zuko.
“Do you want some privacy?” Katara asks, the first thing she’s said. Her expression is unreadable, but the point is a good one.
Zuko rises, extending a hand to the kid. They could pass for brothers, which, in some way they are. Just not … conventional brothers.
“We can go a bit that way,” Zuko says, waving at a patch of ground a little ways off. It doesn’t look very comfortable, and the kid makes a face that says he's not entirely sold, either.
Toph snorts. “Want me to make it more comfortable?”
She doesn't wait for an answer, just roots herself and starts bending. The kid's jaw almost hits the floor, and he looks more exicted than Sokka has ever seen him.
With one last glance over his shoulder at the three of them, he goes to grab his pack. He might as well use the time to make sure his weapons are up to snuff if they're meant to defeat an evil army soon.
~*~
There are snippets of conversation wafting over from where their Zuko is leaning against a convenient boulder (thanks to Toph), talking earnestly to his younger version. Sokka tries not to listen in, but sometimes if the wind is just right, he can’t help but do hear it.
“But…” the kid sounds entirely lost, and Sokka’s heart clenches again. He resolutely shifts his focus away from that conversation. It’s quiet, but that doesn’t mean it’s silent. There’s the campfire crackling in the background and intermittent shouts and grunts coming from a clearing on the other side of the house. Sometimes he can make out Toph’s impatient voice or Aang’s whine. There’s also the comforting whit, whit of metal over bone, sharpening his boomerang a little like his own version of meditation (as long as the others never learn that that is how he views it.)
He must finally manage to sink into his craft, because when he looks up again, the kid is leaning against Zuko, fast asleep. Zuko is undeniably exhausted himself, leaning against the boulder behind him. He stirs when Sokka just watches him for a moment, like it was enough to rouse him from his inaction. Sokka hastily looks away, before glancing back. With Zuko’s good side facing Sokka, there’s no denying that his face is incredibly soft, even through the exhaustion.
He rises gingerly, picking the sleeping kid up like he weighs nothing. Sokka definitely does not look at the way his muscles move as he does so. He is saved from actually looking after all by Aang, who is followed by Katara and Toph.
Aang looks a bit less overflowing with energy than he did before, but that is the only indication that they just spent the last however long training him into the ground (heh — get it? Because they did Earth bending training?).
Seems like it is time for lunch.
~*~
The kid wakes briefly for lunch, but falls asleep again shortly thereafter. They keep their conversation quiet not to disturb him, making plans for how the next few days will be spent. Zuko is quiet throughout, just staring at the fire. One of his arms is curled protectively around the kid, but it seems like a subconscious gesture.
“—you think?” Katara jabs a pointy elbow into his side. Sokka stifles a yelp and glares at her, studiously ignoring that he has absolutely no idea what they had been talking about.
He is saved by Aang, a soft “Oh.” that has them all snapping to attention immediately. There’s a lady behind Sokka, and he did not hear her approach. Maybe she just appeared out of thin air. She certainly looks the part; kind of ethereal in a red dress with skin so fair she appears to be glowing and pitch-black hair. It’s almost as though she’s especially illuminated by the sunlight.
She starts moving towards them — towards Zuko, and it’s a little bit creepy how she doesn’t appear to be gliding over the ground. Kind of like Aang, just lots more graceful.
She bows to Zuko, hands forming the flame, and picks up the sleeping child from his lap without a word. There’s a niggling thought at the back of his head that he should move, but for some reason he doesn’t. Can’t. Won’t?
The lady cradles the child safely to her chest and smiles, and something lodges itself just behind his sternum, achy and warm at the same time. The longer he looks at her, is caught by her smile, the bigger the thing behind his sternum gets, until it feels like it is clawing at his heart and burning him up from the inside. He almost hears an echo of Yue’s laughter, and that’s what makes him blink, avert his gaze. The thing inside his ribcage dims; not disappearing, but more bearable. He sucks in a breath, suddenly desperate like he was close to suffocating. The air is soothing, just the slightest hint of smoke on his tongue. Familiar. He’s been sitting around campfires for as long as he can remember, and the smell of burning wood soothes the rest.
“It is time for him to return,” she says, voice low and quiet with a crackle like fire. “Thank you for keeping watch over him, Prince Zuko, Masters Sokka, Katara, Toph.” She bows, the Flame somehow apparent in it even though her hands are occupied with keeping the sleeping Zuko.
Zuko starts saying something that sounds like “I wish,” but his voice is so rough it breaks before he can get more than two syllables out. He swallows, hard. Clears his throat. Tries again. “I wish I could shield him from — from —” he swallows again, averts his eyes. The lady smiles, a small and sad smile filled with understanding.
“I know, Child,” she says, shifting baby-Zuko so she can touch her hand onto their Zuko. “But you have done everything you can, more than I ever expected of you. It will make a difference.”
There’s a certainty in her voice that fills Sokka with hope, even without knowing what exactly she is talking about.
“And so will all of you. Know that we are all very proud of you. If you believe in yourself, you will succeed. You are all remarkable.”
She turns to leave without waiting for a response. Little Zuko snuggles further into her side without waking up as they make their way back in the direction of the house, growing brighter and losing transparency with each step, until they fade into nothingness just as they reach the beach house.
Adult Zuko — their Zuko — looks like he lost something precious. Sokka averts his gaze, trying to give him some privacy, but Toph has no such qualms. She makes her way around the campfire resolutely, almost throwing herself into his lap.
Zuko wraps himself around her like she’s his safety-blanket and hides his face in her dark hair. His soft, raggedy breaths are uncomfortably loud.
Sokka’s heart clenches as he looks at them, and there’s nothing that could stop him from making his way over to them in this moment, leaning against Zuko’s back. There’s no joke, no dumb line that can make this moment easier. Katara follows his example almost without hesitation, settling on Zuko’s other side and leaning her side against his back. This is their way of giving comfort, the only way they really know, the only way that feels right. A silent reminder that hey, we’re here. You have us.
After a moment, Sokka realizes that it might be useful to actually say this out loud, so he does. Zuko’s breath hitches at that, and Toph frees herself enough that she can say, “He’s right, you know, Sparky?”
The apparition of the little kid, whatever caused it, whatever just happened, has maybe opened up more questions that Sokka ever knew he could have — more questions that Sokka really, really has never wanted to have to ask — but maybe it is for the best, to have it come to light now while they still have time to work through it, and not shortly before (or even after) the comet.
Zuko doesn’t let himself wallow for long, pulling himself together again much like he did in the leadup to exploring the house earlier — and spirits, has it really only been a couple of hours since then? It feels like a lifetime ago. Only his puffy eyes and red nose give him away, but it actually looks slightly adorable.
“I think there’s a house to explore,” he says, voice even rougher than it had been before. They exchange uncertain glances. Not even Aang seems too keen to explore the house — of course, who knows what else haunts it?
“Are you— are you sure?”
Zuko scoffs, and it sounds only a little bit stuffy. “You were right, there’s no reason to sleep out here if there’s a perfectly nice house here.” His voice quiets, only audible because they are still sitting close enough to feel the heat from his body. “There are some things I need to… take care of.”
Zuko gently maneuvers Toph out of his lap and stands without waiting for their reply. His stride is purposeful as he walks back to the house, head held high. It’s at odds with his rumpled clothing, but there’s no denying that he is royalty.
Sokka and Katara share another glance, and then get up to follow him, trailed by Toph and Aang. Zuko doesn’t wait for them to catch up or for the door to open on its own again. Instead he grounds his stance, and then kicks at the door. Sokka can hear the lock splinter under the assault, and he holds his breath as Zuko nudges the door open. To his disappointment, the interior looks entirely unremarkable; not particularly dusty, but also abandoned in a way that is hard to quantify.
Sokka stops before the threshold and eyes the room. “Hmph,” he says, very eloquently.
Zuko raises an eyebrow at him. “Not what you expected?”
It’s Katara who answers. “Well, after ... ,” she trails off, swallows. Zuko scowls, but it’s hard to say if it’s just his normal expression of if he’s angry. “I guess I didn’t expect it to be so… clean.”
Zuko snorts, crossing the threshold. “It’s still the Royal Family’s Beach House.” His voice is lacking any inflection, just a statement of fact. “We were here a couple months ago, so they cleaned it for visitors. Not enough to restore the outside, but the inside should be okay.”
“We?” Sokka asks, trepidation seeping into his bones. “I thought this was abandoned for almost a decade!”
“I said the Fire Lord hasn’t been in here in more than a decade. He stopped coming with us when I was seven or eight. But no, my sister, her friends, and I were sent here before the Eclipse.” Zuko snorts again. “Neither of them will think to look here. Trust me on this.”
He doesn’t elaborate, glancing at the door leading further into the house.
Sokka sighs, giving up the argument before it’s even begun. Katara’s expression says that she’s doing the same, and Aang… Aang doesn’t appear to have heard a word anyway.
“This is wicked!” he exclaims, still in one of the other corners. “It’s big enough we could have a proper air hockey tournament in here!”
Aang’s smile wobbles a bit. There is no one here to play with him the way he remembers, is the thought on all their minds, so Sokka jumps in before Aang's face can fall all the way, “Betcha there will be lots more cool things further inside.” He grins, and Aang’s answering smile looks much firmer.
“Just be careful with Azula’s room. I don’t know if she went into it while we were here, and I’d just… better don’t open it.” Zuko pauses, looks at their faces. “You’ll know it when you see it, trust me,” he adds, and Aang whoops as he dashes for the door.
“We will talk later,” Sokka says, low enough that Aang probably won’t hear it. Katara nods.
“We have questions,” she adds, “but I think Suki should be here. Unless you want to explain it twice?”
Zuko looks unhappy, but nods without arguing. A crash comes from somewhere further into the house, and he winces. “We better make sure that Aang doesn’t do anything to himself,” he says, and then flees in the direction of the crash.
“I think I’ll wait outside,” Toph says, the first thing she’s said since they started entering the house. “You lot have fun here without me, but I really don’t miss houses.”
Sokka and Katara share another look, and then follow Zuko deeper into the house. They might as well make the most of the time they have until the heavy topics.