Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a knock at the door. Zuko found this odd, no one except Uncle visited him, and Uncle lived with him now. No one had a reason to visit a disgraced prince. That’s why he was out here, in the middle of nowhere, there was no one to be a visitor. Another knock, louder this time. Why was this person here?

There was a clap of thunder above his castle. Oh. That explained it. Must have been somebody looking for shelter. Zuko shuddered. He hated thunder because it just meant that lightning was close by. The person knocked again, in time with the thunder this time. Another knock, they were getting impatient. He hoped they’d just get tired and leave. Zuko knew what people did when they were impatient. But he also knew that whoever it was could break down the door.

The door opened. A strange old hag stood there. She had a torch, it was still on fire somehow.

“Hello, deary,” she said as lightning flashed behind her, “Care to let an old woman have shelter from the storm?”

Zuko wasn’t as stupid as Father said, he knew what Father would do to him if he ever found out there was a stranger in the (mostly) abandoned castle.

He shook his head, “No, I’m sorry-” but he barely got the second word out when the hag was glowing - transforming? - and in her place stood a young woman clothed in green.

“Then may you suffer for your selfishness. A horrible beast no one could love is what you are, so your face shall match! It cannot be broken, except by true love, which you will not get! If, in ten years the curse is not broken, a horrid beast is what you’ll stay!”

Light, hard green light surrounded him and his bones shifted - it hurts, it hurts, make it stop - and a scream escaped Zuko’s lips. Lips that were covered in fur. Zuko only hoped that Uncle and the few servants - friends, they were his friends now - was allowed to have did not suffer the same pain. Hoped that, if they were transformed, that it was harmless.

He looked towards the door, the woman was gone, leaving only a rose that looked alive with energy.

Chapter Text

[1] Sokka was up early today. The village was peaceful early in the morning, when no one else was up. The clock rang eight o’clock, and the villagers began their monotonous routine. He glanced in the money pouch he was holding.

‘ That’s only enough for one or two loaves of bread, ’ he thought, ‘ I’ll have to work later. It’s a shame Katara’s healing work isn’t going great. ’ Sokka started walking, musing about the village. He walked past the baker, selling the same bread she always did. He’d get some bread when he returned his book.

He stopped near Haru and snorted at his facial hair.

“You know you look ridiculous with facial hair, right?” Sokka asked, amusedly.

“Yeah, you keep telling me. What’s that book you have about, anyway?”

“Uh,” Sokka looked at the book, “Two lovers from warring families?”
“Sounds boring as hell,” Haru commented.

“You have no idea.”

Sokka walked past a group of schoolboys. He caught snippets of his conversation (“He’s so odd-” “I hear he’s-” “Hard to believe he’s-). Their headmaster shook his head as he commented on how Sokka was always distracted. He walked past the women washing clothes, gossiping about how he doesn’t fit in.

He knew most people didn’t like him, but he didn’t know it was to this extent. He tried not to show his emotions about this as he walked to the library. The usual conversations in the marketplace were happening around him. Extramarital flirting, eggs being too expensive thanks to Jet buying 60 of them every day, gossip. The usual.

Sokka arrived at the library. It was more of a small collection of books in his pseudo-stepfather’s shop, but it was the best their small village had.

“If it isn’t my favourite of Hakoda’s kids! What can I do for ya, Sokka?”
“Don’t let Katara hear you say that. Anyway, I’m here to return the book I borrowed.”

“Of course. Can’t visit me for normal reasons, no. Only to return your books. Your father would be so disappointed, you know,” Bato drawled jokingly.

“Bato, you’re practically living with us at this point. I see you all the time. Uh, anyway, the book?”
“Right, yes. So, where did you run off to this week, you little dreamer?”
“Bato, please. I’m 22, not a kid,” he swatted Bato’s hand away from his hair. “It was two tribes on either side of a mountain, one of which became Omashu. It was, uh, interesting, to say the least.”

“Huh, I didn’t think the Tale of Two Lovers was your thing.”
“It’s not really. I wanted to see why Katara liked it, honestly. Do you have any new ones to read?”

“Afraid not. You can reread any of the old ones, if you want.”

He picked his favourite book and gave Bato a quick hug. “Thanks.”
“Any time, Sokka. Seriously. Have fun reading the book, and stop growing! You’re taller than your father now!”

“I did stop! You’re just getting old!” Sokka called back as he left the shop.

He eagerly opened the book to read and drown out the whispers. The villagers calling him peculiar. He sat on the edge of the town fountain - a new edition from when his family and the rest of their tribe had to move to the village - and began to read aloud to the sheep. Ha, reading to the sheep!

‘Not doing much to disprove their insults, am I?’

Jet and Smellerbee were talking about him loudly nearby. That’s probably a thing he’d need to listen to.

“Look at his beauty, Bee!” Ugh, was Jet still set on wooing him? Gross.

“Since there’s no mirror around for you to talk about your own beauty, I’m assuming you’re still on about Sokka. Face it, Jet! He’s never gonna be into you! For one, he’s well read and you’re… not. And for another, you broke Katara -y’know, his sister- 's heart!” Ah, good ol’ Smellerbee, always the voice of reason when Jet gets an idea in his head.

“He’ll change his mind,” Jet said, “they always do.” Ew, seriously?

“That-” she crossed her arms “-is immoral and gross. Besides, you’ve got me and the rest of the freedom fighters. Why would you want someone else to join us?”

Sokka mocked Jet’s part of the conversation when he wasn’t looking. Blah, blah, blah, marry Sokka, blah, blah, blah. Did Jet ever get tired of hearing his voice? Unlikely.

Sokka decided he’d heard enough of Jet and Smellerbee’s conversation and started heading home. He paid for the one loaf of bread he could afford right now and listened to the villagers’ complaints again.

“This bread is stale!” someone complained. Shit, was it? It didn’t feel or smell stale. Probably someone who just wanted to complain, like always. The crowds were parting behind him, perhaps someone was trying to get through? Was there more than this provincial life?

He moved through the village, still reading his book. The villagers started gossiping - singing? Wait, why were they singing? They were singing, and it was about him. As always.

“-Strange but special-”

Sokka focused more on his book. Firelord Daisuke was staying the night at Noble Mamoru’s place and Lady Mamoru - Sokka never got the Earth Kingdom “tradition” of calling married women by their husband’s name, or full name if they were rich, and this was the Earth translation - was about to convince Mamoru to murder the Firelord and take the throne for himself.

“-A pity and a sin he doesn’t quite fit in.”

Well, that was rude. It wasn’t his fault they hated him.

Jet had caught up with Sokka, out of breath.

“Good morning, Sokka! Great book you’ve got there.”

Well, it would have been a better morning if Jet wasn’t there, but oh well.

“You’ve read it?” he asked, incredulously, “You’ve read Murder Fit For A King ?”

“Oh, well, no,” Jet floundered, “but I’ve heard good things about it?”

“What do you want, Jet?”

“To join you for dinner tonight.”

“No, but thanks.” Sokka made to move again.
“What, you busy?”
“No, I just don’t wanna have dinner with you. Bye!” he said, and walked home.

He could vaguely hear Jet and Smellerbee talking about how it’s the ones who play hard to get that are the best catches. Fucking gross.

He stood in the doorway of his house, watching Katara and their father work on different things. Dad was working on something that reminded him of home , of the Southern Water Tribe, and singing the lullaby he and Sokka’s mother used to sing. Katara was writing furiously, probably a strongly worded letter to a patient’s family.

“Do you think I’m odd or weird?”

“Yeah, but you’re my brother. I’m supposed to think you’re weird,” Katara said, not looking up from her writing.

“Of course not, Sokka. Where did you get an idea like that?”

“The village just sang a whole musical number about it. I’m surprised you didn’t hear them.”

“I’ll fight them.”
“Katara, no ,” he and his father said together.
“Listen, Sokka. Most of these people are small-minded. They don’t like that we came here from the Southern Water Tribe. They don’t like anyone different from them. You, me, your sister, Bato, we’re all as different from the majority as can be. But they will be worse if they learn it gets to you so you have to put them out of your mind.”

Sokka sighed, “I’ll try, dad.”

Katara loaded the family’s ostrich-horse up with her supplies and medicine, ready to go heal yet another person who had heard about the “miracle-worker” waterbender and decided they absolutely needed her to heal them. Sokka hugged her tightly.

“Stay safe, dumbass.”

“Don’t let Jet date you,” she said, then stepped back. “Should I get anything while I’m out?”

“You know what I’ll say.” Sokka’s been dreaming of a rose a lot lately. He’s not one to put much belief in spirit mumbo-jumbo, but Katara said it could be important.

“I think we’ve got all we need. Take care, Katara. We’ll see you tomorrow,” dad said, and Katara was off.

Sokka had put his laundry in the makeshift laundry machine he’d made from a barrel and some soap when a little girl came up to him.
“What are you doing?” she asked shyly.

“I’m doing my laundry. Hey, what kind of stories do you like?”

“My mummy tells me stories about princes and princesses fighting evil men and saving the day!”

Oh, good. He could work with that.

Sokka told her the tale of two siblings, a prince and a princess, pitted against each other by their father. How, despite their differences, they came together to defeat their evil father. About how they found their littlest sister and lived happily together as a family.

The little girl - Kiyi, she’d made him name the littlest princess after herself - was enthralled the entire time. But, as was his luck, the headmaster spotted them.
“Filling children’s heads with nonsense?” he growled.

Kiyi hid behind him.

“It’s not nonsense! You refuse to teach kids essentials and wonder why adults are idiots!”

The headmaster scowled, “Know your place. We’re teaching them all they need for a war.”

“What war? Do you mean the destruction of the Southern Water Tribe because the Fire Nation soldiers didn’t like what we could offer them? That’s not a war, none of the other nations were affected!”

Sokka knew this could get him in trouble later, but he didn’t really care.

“C’mon, Kiyi, I’ll walk you home. I bet your mum’s getting worried.” He grabbed his laundry with one hand, and took Kiyi’s with the other. He dropped her off at her place where her grateful mother was waiting. Jet was waiting for him. Sokka groaned.

‘ What does he want this time? Can’t he just leave me alone?’

“Sokka! I heard you got into a little scuffle with the headmaster. Y’know, he never liked me either. Probably because the Freedom Fighters and I were a bunch of troublemakers.”
“I was telling stories to a little girl! Is there anything wrong with that? And, for your information, it wasn’t a scuffle. It was an argument.”

“Maybe you should concern yourself with your own children, then.” Sokka’s stomach lurched. Jet wouldn’t suggest that unless he knew that Sokka was trans. How did he know?

“I don’t want children of my own, Jet.”

“Then you haven’t met the right man yet,” Jet persisted.

“I’ve met everyone in this village, and you are by far the person I’d want to settle down with the least.”

Sokka tried to open his door, but Jet had grabbed hold of his arm.

“Do you know what happens to unmarried women in this village?”
“One, I’m still a man. Two, they get discriminated because they don’t fit your narrow-minded ideals of what a woman should be.”

He tugged his arm out of Jet’s grip and went inside, shutting the door in his face.

Sokka scoffed, “Can you imagine? Me, married to that awful, brainless… Ugh!”

[2] It seemed Sokka was taken over by whatever singing virus had consumed the village earlier as he took a deep breath.

“Can’t you just see it? Me, his little ‘wife’,” Sokka scoffed, “No sir, not me, I guarantee it. I want much more than this provincial life!”

He wanted adventure! Oh, but wouldn’t it be grand? To finally have someone understand? His family was great, but he wanted - needed - more than they had planned.