Archive of Our Own

Zuko is at the Western Air Temple when it happens.

“What else would I expect to hear from the laziest man in the Fire Nation?”

Uncle wants him to rest. But he can’t rest, not now, not until he’s completed the mission Father demands. His face throbs beneath the bandage, waves of heat vibrating on his cheekbone and temple. It hasn’t stopped since the worst of the pain ebbed. Zuko wonders if it’ll ever stop.

It doesn’t matter. It’s just another thing Father knew he needs to endure to learn his lesson. Half-blind. Half-deaf. Riddled with tremors and chills from flash fevers. But still given mercy—still given mercy despite his two shows of horrific disrespect—still given a chance to prove himself and return home. A chance to return home and be given a second opportunity to make Father proud.

“The only way to regain my honor is to find the Avatar. So I will.”

And then he feels it. It’s like a stone wall where there once was a steadily trickling stream. The constant presence of familiarity in the back of his mind, the strength of a soul connection, blocked away.

His soulmate has shut him out.

Zuko makes it back to the ship and through a cursory visit to the infirmary, but when he’s finally alone in his chambers, standing in the middle of the room, staring at his dual dao without really seeing them—his body begins to buzz. His heartbeat begins to hammer in his ears, louder and louder until it seems to wrap around and strangle his brain and his lungs. His fingers begin to go numb, and in an attempt to regain feeling, he holds them in front of his face and moves them around, but they’re twisting oddly and terribly as though he’s lost muscle control.

Static fills his ears, heavy and debilitating around his heartbeat, and then it crawls into his vision as well, and there are spots of black, now, clouding his one uncovered eye, and all at once he notices—

—he’s crying—

—he’s doubled over—

—he’s stopped breathing—

—and then he falls, and the last thought he has before the darkness overtakes him is My soulmate doesn’t want me either.

No one knew Zuko might need to be checked on, not when he’d told them he was going to sleep, so no one does check on him.

He wakes on the cold, metal floor, not knowing how long he’s been out for, and pushes himself into a sitting position. His whole body feels weighted and tired like he’d been chained to a boulder and dumped in the sea, but had somehow managed to drag himself and the boulder back to land. His right eye aches from dryness, and his left stings as though dozens of needles are pricking it in succession.

He takes a very unsteady breath and puts his head in his hands.

It’s okay, he tells himself. Just like he doesn’t deserve to be home until he’s regained his honor, he doesn’t deserve a soul connection, either. It’s all part of the same lesson.

— — —

Sometimes, late at night while he stares at the Fire Nation banners lining his walls, he remembers what it was like to feel his soulmate.

Mostly, in the times when he could feel her, she was happy. Her strongest and most frequent emotions were joy, delight, pride, love. It had been a comfort to Zuko, even though his family wouldn’t allow it. He had learned quickly that he needed to lie to keep his connection safe. Father had told him he needed to sever the connection to be strong. Mother had urged him also, telling him it’d be better for him that way, to get it over with early, to not have time to dwell and depend on the shared emotions.

“Did you block your soulmate out?” Zuko asked.

Mother stared at him with wide, haunted eyes. Zuko knew what she was processing—that Zuko, at five, was fully aware that Father wasn’t her soulmate. It went without saying.

Eventually, she spoke. “I did. Right after I was wed to your father.”

Zuko had nodded. “I’ll do it,” he said, but he’d lied.

He loved the warmth he felt when his soulmate was happy. It taught him that happiness is something that can be experienced in bursts, for long periods of time, without pain in between. It was like a goal—if I work hard enough, if I do well enough, I can have that, too.

Of course, his soulmate wasn’t always happy. There were periods of loss, of grief, shame, anger. But over time they would always flicker into love, into safety. His soulmate had some kind of vital support system, Zuko realized. A support system that Zuko would lose when Mother eventually disappeared.

On his ship, as the months become years hunting for the Avatar, Zuko pretends he can still feel the connection. He remembers the warmth and pretends it’s right there, right within reach. He sighs with the thought of his soulmate being happy.

But Father was right. Soulmates make you weak, and Zuko has to be strong, has to prove himself. So he never pretends for very long.

— — —

Zuko stands behind the counter and watches as a couple shares a cup of tea, laughing and leaning into each other all the while. Uncle is beside him, measuring leaves into a glass jar.

“Uncle?” Zuko starts, and Uncle smiles softly to let Zuko know he’s listening. “How do soulmates even know if they’ve met each other?”

The smile fades and Uncle pauses his work. “It can take a long time, outside of special circumstances,” he says carefully, like he’s choosing each word. “When the connection is unsevered, though, you notice it eventually. It’s not just that you feel their emotions anymore. You actually share them. Their pain becomes your pain. Their happiness becomes your happiness. In time, you share it all, and you just… know.”

Zuko doesn’t really understand, but he nods anyways, grabbing a rag to wipe the counter with. His hand seems disconnected from his head, though, and he can’t bring himself to do the work.

“Why do you ask, Nephew?” And Uncle’s voice is doing that thing, that thing that makes Zuko feel the way he used to when Mother would tuck him under her arm. A voice hisses—weak. He tucks it away.

When Zuko doesn’t reply, Uncle asks, “Do you think you’ve met yours?”

Zuko huffs an aborted laugh. “No. And we’re severed, anyways.”

“Ah,” Uncle says, going back to his tea leaves.

“Have you met yours?” Zuko speaks so softly that he worries Uncle doesn’t hear. Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t hear.

“Yes.”

“What was she like?”

Uncle sighs, heavy and sad. “He.”

Zuko clenches the rag, then wrings it between his hands. “Oh.”

Soulmates are already a private thing in the Fire Nation, especially in the Royal Family where political ties are more important than emotional ones. But what Uncle is referring to is more than private. It’s taboo. It is to be rejected and severed and ignored.

“He was one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met. He showed me what goodness can look like. And that I could be capable of it, too, someday. He also showed me how to make a proper cup of tea.”

Zuko drops the rag. “He showed you?”

Uncle laughs, and as he gazes down at his tea leaves, his eyes and smile are a thousand miles away. But fond. Ever so fond. “Destiny is a funny thing, Nephew.”

Zuko looks back to the couple, who now each have an arm around the other and are talking quietly amongst themselves.

“What happened to him?”

Uncle puts the lid on the glass jar and screws it tight. “He passed. I was very lost for a while, after. If I had learned what he’d tried to teach me sooner, I may not have lost my son, too. But if it weren’t for that man, and if it weren’t for my son, we would certainly not be where we are today.”

Zuko scowls and picks the rag back up. “Banished and traitors and refugees.”

Uncle smiles. “Making tea, and having pleasant conversation, and together.”

Zuko doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just gets back to work.

That night, while Uncle snores obnoxiously nearby, Zuko has one word replaying again and again in his head, like a turtle-duck circling a pond.

He.

— — —

Zuko wishes the Avatar and his rag-tag group had chosen any other place to gather than the Western Air Temple.

He didn’t expect it to still hurt so much.

He’s glad that his room is so far from anyone else’s, so far from the stone patio courtyard where everyone so often gathers and convenes. He finds himself rushing there often to get away from them, to hide away from their stifling friendships, from Aang and Katara’s obvious soul connection, from Toph’s watchful heels, from Sokka’s curious gaze as he puts his arm around Suki.

He finds himself rushing there often to sputter gasps that rip through his vocal cords, to brace himself on the window ledge, to attempt to grapple his shaking core into something that resembles neutrality.

And he thinks, with a thing he refuses to believe is hope, about how Suki’s bond isn’t severed. She’s not Sokka’s soulmate, because his is severed. But this thing that isn’t hope is squandered, because he isn’t Sokka’s soulmate either. They’d all talked about it one night around their campfire.

Zuko had said, looking down, “The Royal Family thinks soulmates are weak. I severed mine when I was five, as soon as I learned how.”

Aang replied, smiling, “But you can open it back up now, right? You don’t have to keep it severed!”

Zuko shrugged. “I guess.”

But he can’t, because he’d lied. He can’t open it, because he isn’t the one who’d severed it.

Sokka had said, looking down, “My soulmate severed our connection when I was twelve. I don’t know why.” Katara put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him. A sore subject, then.

Throughout the whole conversation, Toph had stayed quiet, head tilted as though deep in thought.

— — —

At Ember Island, Sokka follows Zuko when Zuko flees to his room. Zuko had hoped leaving the Western Air Temple would keep this from happening, that finally being accepted by the whole group would keep this from happening, but part of him knew it wouldn’t. Not now that the floodgates had opened, not now that the weakness had settled into his flimsy, clattering bones.

The words of Father pound in Zuko’s head, steady with his raging heartbeat.

What disgusting thoughts he’s had about Sokka. Sokka is a compassionate, honorable soul, someone who may as well be touched by spirits, someone Zuko can never have. Someone who would never want Zuko. Zuko is a man, and so is Sokka, and if Sokka ever finds out that Zuko is thinking these filthy things—

“Zuko?”

He flinches, hard, spinning to the sliding doorway where Sokka is standing frozen with an expression of horror dawning on his face.

Did Zuko say something out loud? Is it written across his skin?

Horror is what Zuko deserves. He is a black mark in Sokka’s line of sight, a tainted thing that can only taint others. He’ll never be a part of the group, because the group is good and Zuko is filthy and weak—

“Hey, what’s going on?” Sokka asks, stepping forward with his arms out. He takes Zuko by his upper arms, his grip firm but not harmful.

Zuko laughs, and even to his own ears the sound is abhorrent, deformed like his face, like his very being—

Sokka looks terrified. He gives Zuko a small shake. “What is—Zuko, talk to me.”

He’s too close. Zuko is sure Sokka can feel his broken panting against his skin. Tainting his skin.

“Okay, breathe.”

Another laugh rips from Zuko’s throat. He wonders if he were to disobey Sokka, if he were to hold his breath instead, if he could suffocate and just die already—

As the familiar static sets in and his vision goes black, he’s only slightly aware of being wrapped in sturdy, warm arms.

— — —

He comes to on his bedroll, body beaten in that boulder-dragged way, and he turns his head to see Sokka and Katara near the door, close together, and quietly speaking.

“—hurt or sick. I think it’s something else.”

“Okay,” Katara says with a frown. “Maybe I can make him some soup instead?”

Sokka nods and squeezes her shoulder. “That’d be good. Thanks, Katara.”

She nods and skirts from the room.

As Sokka turns and meets Zuko’s eyes, Zuko sits up.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It feels like a punch to his windpipe.

Sokka kneels beside him. “You passed out,” he says, worry lining every inch of his face. “You just collapsed.” There’s a magic in Sokka’s eyes, one Zuko wishes he himself could ever cast. Clear, rippling lakes, turned blue by the sun reflecting off of ice melt. Zuko’s own eyes are hardening lava, and there is only molten death in their wake. Sokka reaches out, but his hand stops in midair. After a moment, he puts it back in his lap. “You don’t need to apologize, by the way. Do you know what happened?”

Zuko rakes a hand through his hair and holds on, tugging as he hunches over his half-sprawled legs. “It’s been happening a lot lately.”

A crease cracks between Sokka’s brows. “It has? Why didn’t you—why didn’t you say anything?”

Rubbing his face, Zuko tries for a deep breath. “It’s all just stupid. And I don’t want to talk about it, so I just…”

Calloused fingers press at Zuko’s hands, carefully pulling them from his hair and face. His magic eyes look sad.

“So you just hold it all in until you explode and faint?”

Zuko can’t hold the gaze. He scrabbles to find purchase anyplace else. “I guess so.”

Sokka leans away to give Zuko more space, but he leaves one of his hands on Zuko’s. Zuko watches the way Sokka’s thumb absentmindedly trails back and forth over Zuko’s skin.

“Tell me one thing,” Sokka says after a too-long pause.

“What?”

“You said it’s ‘all’ stupid, so I’m guessing it’s multiple things that are bothering you. So take your pick and just tell me one.”

Zuko swallows and glances up. Sokka is the one looking at their hands, now, but he meets Zuko’s eyes again when Zuko asks, “Why?”

A small, friendly smile. “Gotta release some of the pressure somehow, right? One thing might not seem like a lot, but maybe it’ll help.” When Zuko doesn’t reply, he goes on. “We’re here for you, Zuko, if you let us be. You’re part of the gang now, and the gang watches each others’ backs. In every respect—not just in battle. Though we’re pretty good at that, too.”

Zuko allows a little smile to match Sokka’s. “Yeah, you are.”

“So?” Sokka prompts, and he lifts a finger on his free hand—one thing.

Zuko sifts through it all, all the things he’s been worrying about and saying to himself. It’s difficult to find something safe to share, something that doesn’t give too much away. But when he starts to speak, it’s barely by his own volition.

“Father doesn’t love me,” he says, and he looks away.

“—I don’t think he ever did.”

“—Azula was always his favorite, but honestly…”

“—I don’t think he’s ever loved her, either.”

“—He didn’t hurt her, though, like he hurt me. I mean, he definitely scared her into compliance, but he never burned her or anything.”

A small laugh. Sokka doesn’t return it.

“—I remember the first time, it was my hand. I’d asked to hold his, because I was scared. He said I was weak.”

“—It happened a lot after that. But then there was—”

Zuko chokes off, waving his free hand to his face. He doesn’t know what more to say, and Sokka is dead silent. He waits a long time before he looks up.

Sokka’s face is impassive except for his eyes—open as wide as they’ll go, sparking with something fierce. Zuko looks away as quickly as he’d looked up.

“Your father…” Sokka starts, then breathes, then restarts. “Your father did that?”

The answering nod is small and unnecessary.

“Why?”

Zuko tells him. Slowly, with lots of breaks and caveats as he tries to rewrite the events in his mind.

(“It was blatant disrespect, I shouldn’t have spoken out—well, I mean, I guess no one else was going to speak out. And the plan was wrong… but I—sorry, I don’t know—”)

When he concludes, Zuko isn’t sure Sokka could have followed the story at all. But it doesn’t seem to matter, at its end, because suddenly Sokka is wrapping Zuko in a hug. A hug so sweet, that it feels like a weight is lifting from his chest. The boulder—unchained.

That’s when the tears fall. But this time, they’re not paired with panic. “He never wanted me back,” he says into the fabric on Sokka’s shoulder. “Three years, I—three years I wasted chasing something that I’d never have—”

Sokka’s fingers work through Zuko’s hair, and he holds him closer.

“And I betrayed Uncle for that. For nothing.”

“It’s okay, Zuko,” Sokka whispers. “You’re here now, and we’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

The tears don’t stop. Something’s broken inside him and they won’t stop. His body heaves with every breath and Sokka just digs his fingers in and clutches him tighter. And then, after a time, the tears do stop, not because Zuko is better, but because he has no tears left. Sokka continues combing through his hair, and Zuko times his breathing with the strokes, and his body slinks into just the outer edges of tense.

“Thank you for telling me,” Sokka murmurs into his hair.

Zuko is the first to pull away, and he’s once again unable to meet Sokka’s gaze. Sokka seems reluctant to let him go—the hand in his hair drops to the crook between Zuko’s neck and shoulder, and the hand on his back slides to his bicep.

That’s when Katara comes back. Zuko looks at her with weary, burning eyes, and Sokka drops his arms.

Her expression falls into something depressing that Zuko can’t bother to interpret before she steels herself into her classic, forceful manner of compassion. “I brought soup,” she declares, lifting the steaming bowl in her hands to show him, then crosses the room to sit beside him and Sokka.

Zuko takes the soup with a hushed “Thank you” and stirs it gently with the spoon.

After a brief silence, Katara starts talking about Aang’s progress learning the elements. She guesses about where he still needs to improve in earth and fire bending, and Zuko lets her words become a wash of unfocused sound while he eats. She doesn’t expect him to respond. He suspects she knows he’s not really listening. It’s exactly, he thinks, what he needs right now.

Aang, Toph, and Suki eventually join as well, forming a small circle and chatting about this or that, and Zuko is content with just being there, and it seems they’re content with that, too.

— — —

Zuko takes off his crown and removes his top knot, letting his hair drop loose around his face. He closes his eyes and breathes.

“You were lying,” Toph says from behind him.

She’s the only one left. The rest of the group has gone to the South Pole, to visit their family and jumpstart the efforts to rebuild the Southern Water Tribe. They assured they’ll be back soon.

Toph stayed, claiming she refuses to walk barefoot on snow and ice, but Zuko suspects she’s also staying for him. If it were just the snow and ice, why wouldn’t she have requested to be dropped off somewhere?

Zuko turns to face her, frowning with confusion. “What?”

They’re in his new chambers. They’re overly large and extravagant, and Toph has been sleeping on one of the couches. They’re not used to sleeping alone, anymore. And he knows they both have nightmares.

“That night by the campfire. We were talking about soulmates, and you lied.” She uncrosses her arms. Her voice isn’t accusing; it’s caring.

Zuko sighs. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

He looks away as he thinks. “I guess… I wasn’t dealing with all the stuff about my family yet. Not really, anyways. So it was easier to parrot what I’d told them, what they’d wanted from me. I still thought a soulmate makes you weak, even though I didn’t want to think it.”

Toph’s head tilts. “So you didn’t sever the connection, then?”

“No,” Zuko says. “They did, right after I was banished.”

“Ouch.”

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’ve… come to terms with it.”

She scoffs. “Lie.”

This makes him crack a smile. He wanders over to the little teacart by the door, picks up the kettle, and begins heating the water. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little bitter that I don’t know why they did it, and that it was really bad timing.”

Toph follows him over and grabs a teacup, turning it over in her hands. “There’s something else, too.”

He waits until the water is sufficiently hot before saying, “Yeah.”

After he’s fixed them both a cup the way Uncle taught him in the shop, they make their way to the small, round table by the back window. “You can tell me,” Toph says, more gently than Zuko is used to from her. “I won’t punch you about it.”

He snorts into his tea, and some of it spurts onto his face. “I appreciate that,” he says as he uses his sleeve to wipe himself off. If anyone but Toph knew he was doing that, they’d send him judgmental looks for sure.

She doesn’t say anything else—she just sips at her tea and waits. It’s a long time before Zuko gives in.

“Father probably would’ve killed me in the Agni Kai if he’d known.”

“The Agni Kai?”

Zuko flinches. “Yeah, I’ll… let’s maybe put a pin in that for now.”

She frowns first, considering, but then nods.

“It’s not, um… it’s illegal here to be with someone who’s, ah… the same gender.”

“Well that’s stupid,” Toph says, and Zuko snorts again.

“Yeah, well, I… I mean, I’ve known for a long time. That it’s probably a guy. And I don’t… I don’t know how to… deal with that, basically.”

She nods again, slower this time. “Well, Mr. Fire Lord, sounds like you have even more decrees to put through.”

He blinks, then blinks again. “Oh,” he says. “I—oh.”

Smirking, Toph taps her now-empty cup. “Yup. Now get me more tea before you start to cry.”

“I’m not going to cry,” he says, but gets up and follows her order.

“As if you never cry,” she laughs. Zuko flushes as he imagines how tear-stained he’d probably been at the house in Ember Island, before remembering Toph would’ve had no way of seeing his red face and mottled eyes.

“I don’t,” he says. “Not ever.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a big tough Fire Lord with no human emotion, I get it. Now,” she says, “tell me about this Agni Kai.”

Zuko decides to roll the teacart over to their table. He’s going to need it.

— — —

The Jasmine Dragon is thriving. He works alongside Uncle like he used to, but now with the added help of Uncle’s hired employees and the added hindrance of the Avatar and gang (minus Suki, who is on an adventure with her new girlfriend). He finds himself laughing as he pushes them out of his way on multiple occasions.

It isn’t until they’ve closed the shop for the night and are lounging around at the tables that Zuko notices the rift in the group.

Katara isn’t talking to Sokka, which means Aang isn’t really talking to Sokka. It’s just Zuko and Toph.

The only reason it’s difficult to pick up on is because Sokka is Sokka, and any awkwardness that falls at his feet is quickly picked up and spun into a terrible joke. But there’s definitely tension, and Zuko feels like a fool for not seeing it sooner.

When they’re all getting ready for bed at the house they rented across the street, Zuko lets them know he’s going for a walk.

“Can I tag along?” Sokka asks, and, though Zuko was hoping to get some peace and quiet, he’s never found it easy to say no to Sokka.

They walk slowly but not deliberately down narrow streets, avoiding bigger ones where there are still plenty of people about. At first they settle into easy silence, but Zuko knows it won’t last long.

Sokka says, “I’m thinking of leaving the South Pole.”

“Oh,” Zuko frowns. “Is that why Katara’s upset with you?”

“What?” Sokka’s voice is too loud, and he looks at Zuko with shock. “Katara’s not mad at me! Where did you get that idea?”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “So I just imagined it then?”

Scoffing, Sokka crosses his arms and gives up. “Fine, whatever. But to answer your question, no, that’s not why she’s mad.”

“Why’s she mad?”

Sokka stops walking and faces Zuko. “Can we stay on topic, please? I’m trying to make a major life decision, here.”

“Sorry,” Zuko says sheepishly. “Go on then. Why do you want to leave?”

“I just… I guess after seeing the whole world, meeting so many people, and doing so much stuff… if feels kind of—wrong, down there, somehow? To just be back in a frozen wasteland. I know there’s lots to do with the rebuilding and all, but Katara’s a water bender who can actually, you know, build, and my dad’s the chief, and he’s fully capable of making decisions, so… I don’t know. It just doesn’t really feel right anymore.”

Zuko nods, then takes Sokka by his shirt collar and pulls him to a nearby bench. Sokka doesn’t protest the gesture at all. When they’re both seated, they turn towards each other, and a greedy little chimp-weasel in Zuko’s brain points out that their knees are touching. He ignores it.

“Where will you go instead?”

Sokka groans. “I have no clue, honestly. I wanna be somewhere where I can… help. Affect actual change, you know?”

Zuko hums. “I’m putting together a new council at the palace, because Father’s was corrupt and unbearable. I’ve kind of been thinking that maybe… I should include representatives from each of the other nations? I think it would, for one, show a genuineness in the Fire Nation’s new mission for peace, and two, allow for more regular communications between nations. As it is currently, we seem to just correspond irregularly by hawk, which—”

“Zuko,” Sokka interrupts, and Zuko gets startled by his eager, watery eyes. “Are you offering me a job?”

“Obviously you don’t have to take it, I’m sure there are other people who would be qualified, but you’ve always been very politically-minded, so—”

“Zuko, shut up, that is perfect.”

“Really?”

Sokka’s grin is all-encompassing. Zuko feels as though he’s falling into it. “Really,” Sokka confirms, and then he crushes Zuko in a hug. He smells like salted caramel.

— — —

“You have got to stop working,” Sokka whines from Zuko’s floor.

“I’m almost finished,” Zuko says, waving him off without looking up from a document.

“You said that a half hour ago.”

“A half hour ago I didn’t realize we’ve had eighteen hate crimes in the past week.”

Sokka sits up. “Hate crimes, what?”

Zuko sighs and rubs at his temple. “Ever since I passed the marriage and discrimination laws, people have been… spirits, I hate this.”

When Zuko glances over to Sokka, he’s surprised by the amount of anger there.

“Point me in the right direction,” Sokka snarls, “and I’ll kill ‘em.”

Zuko raises his brow. “Now, now. I think prison is plenty.”

“Ugh,” Sokka flops back down. “What can we do?”

Shaking his head, Zuko puts down the document and gets up. After taking out his top knot and shaking his hair out, he stretches his arms over his head. One of his shoulders cracks. “I think I’m going to increase guard patrols and consult with Takara on possible reeducation programs. See if she has any additional suggestions.”

There’s an expression on Sokka’s face that Zuko can’t read, but when Zuko meets his eyes, Sokka’s mouth pops open, and then he’s glaring at the ceiling like it personally offended him.

“You alright?” Zuko asks, watching Sokka’s cheeks turn a dusty shade of pink.

Sokka hums a yes, then grins. He pats the floor next to him. “Join me in my leisure. You can’t consult with Takara in the middle of the night.”

With a sigh and a nod, Zuko lays down. Sokka is less than a foot away—if Zuko wanted to, he could hold his hand with only the slightest movement.

He does want to. But he can’t.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Sokka asks. Zuko turns his head to see those magic, magic eyes.

“Um,” he fumbles. “Nothing, really.”

Sokka closes his eyes and faces up to the ceiling again, so Zuko does the same.

“I don’t know how to get Katara to talk to me again.” It’s a whispered confession. Zuko doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Sokka looks pained.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I told her the truth.”

Zuko waits, knowing Sokka will explain at his own pace. He picked up the willingness to wait from the gang, he realizes. They’ve done it for him many times.

“Remember when I said my soulmate severed our bond when I was twelve?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s not… that’s not what happened.”

Zuko looks at him. His eyes are open, now, and he’s pouring his heartache right through them, right through the ceiling and the roof, all the way to the sky.

“I think it’s different here. But in the Southern Water Tribe, soul bonds are seen as sacred. Severing one is seen as severing yourself from the spirits—as disrespecting them. And that’s what I did.” His eyes well up, but no tears fall. “I just… couldn’t take it anymore. My soulmate was just—they were always in so much pain. And then it got worse, and I just—I was just trying to be happy, you know? But I had this constant reminder that my literal other half was in agony almost every day.”

“Oh,” Zuko says. “That… you shouldn’t beat yourself up over that. It makes sense that you’d want some distance.”

Sokka nods once, a single, choppy thing. “It was… it wasn’t right, by the traditions of our tribe, I know that. But that’s not why she’s upset.”

“Why then?” Zuko props himself up on one elbow to see him better.

“I lied. The whole time, I lied. A few days after I severed the connection, I told her my soulmate had done it. And she was so devastated for me, and so angry at them. She… she comforted me for years, when I told her how much I missed them, and I just let her do it.”

Sokka blinks at Zuko. “I just let her do it. After a while I didn’t know how to tell the truth. It wasn’t until recently that I tried, and she—she went nuts about it. It was like, worst case scenario bad.”

“She’ll forgive you,” Zuko says, and he’s surprised by how certain he sounds. “She’s your sister. She’s Katara. She just needs time.”

“You think so?”

Zuko risks a smile. “If she could forgive me, she can forgive you.”

Sokka is thoughtful for a moment as he scans Zuko’s face. Zuko shifts under the scrutiny but holds his ground, and then Sokka is lifting a hand, putting it against Zuko’s neck, and thumbing his cheek.

Zuko’s lips part in surprise, but he doesn’t flinch. He forces himself to hold very, very still.

It only lasts a few seconds before Sokka breaks from his revery, taking back his hand and sitting up. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Zuko sits up too, more slowly and tediously, lost in the complete lack of thoughts in his head.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” Sokka says, and he leaves Zuko stranded, confused, on the floor.

But after grabbing the door handle to leave, Sokka turns back to regard him. “Do you ever think about unsevering your connection?”

He can’t, but he imagines it anyways. Imagines finding some loophole and an ancient incantation that would let him take down the wall his soulmate had put up. He can’t, but he does think about it, so he says, “Yes.”

“Do you think you will?”

Zuko shrugs and throws back. “Do you think you will?”

Sokka stares down at the door handle. “I think it’d be awkward. What if—what if after all this time, they’ve grown to hate me? For leaving them for so long?”

Zuko remembers two refugees, a tea shop, a conversation. “Destiny is a funny thing,” he mutters, then clarifies, “They’re your soulmate. You’re meant to be with them. And if you’re meant to be, then this whole… break… was meant to be, too.”

Sokka looks at Zuko like Zuko had just hand-delivered him the words of Tui and La. It’s distinctly enchanting. Zuko wonders if spending this much time around Sokka is unhealthy for his heart.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sokka says eventually, squeezing the door handle. “Would you, um… would you be there with me?”

“What?”

“When I unsever the bond. Could you just be there? I—I don’t want to do it alone.”

Zuko purses his lips and nods. “Of course,” he says. But he knows watching Sokka get back in touch with his soulmate is going to be a painful affair. Definitely unhealthy for his heart. He’s never been good around soulmate stuff, and it being Sokka is just bound to make it worse.

As Sokka turns to leave again, Zuko stops him. “Did you mean what you said before?” he asks.

“What I said when?”

“You said that with Katara… that you told her you missed your soulmate. Did you actually miss them?”

Sokka frowns, looking confused. “Of course I did. What kind of question even is that?”

Zuko shakes his head and offers a small smile. And when Sokka has actually left for the night, he exhales in relief. If Sokka could sever his connection and still miss his soulmate, still want to unsever all these years later, then maybe someday Zuko’s soulmate will unsever, too. It might not be too late.

— — —

They’re at the turtle-duck pond in the garden. Sokka likes this place almost as much as Zuko does, it seems. He wanted to do it here, under the light of the full moon.

Zuko is sitting on the opposite side of the pond to give him space. While Zuko drops bread for the turtle-ducks, Sokka sits, criss-cross, with his hands on his knees. His eyes are closed, and he takes deep, slow breaths.

Zuko watches him.

He’s gorgeous like this—his dark skin radiating blue in the night, with moonlight reflecting from his hair and nose and lips—all muscled shoulders and long legs. Zuko freezes the image as something to marvel at forever. All the things he wants from Sokka may never come to be, but at least Sokka will be able to find happiness now. If Sokka is happy, Zuko thinks that maybe he can be too.

Something shifts slightly in his head. It’s… like a release of tension, but tension that he’d forgotten was there. It’s odd, but not unpleasant. He finds himself frowning down at the turtle-ducks, which have paddled away since he’s stopped feeding them.

“I did it,” Sokka exhales, and they’re looking at each other.

“Great job,” Zuko says like an idiot. He smiles. “Can you feel anything?”

There’s a line between Sokka’s brows, in the same place it always is. He’s going to get a worry wrinkle, if he’s not careful. Zuko kind of wants to rub it away with his thumb.

“I thought I did, at first, but it’s gone now.”

“What was it?”

“Um, like, a fondness? Or adoration? Something positive, at least, so that’s a good sign. I hope they’re… I just hope they haven’t been unhappy this whole time, you know?”

Zuko smiles again. “Take it from someone who’s been unhappy his whole life—even if they have been, I’m sure just knowing you’re there will help. And when they meet you—”

When Zuko nervously pauses, Sokka urges with a grin, “When they meet me?”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “It’s not easy to be unhappy when you’re around, you know. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

He throws another few crumbs out into the pond, feeling much more at ease than he’d anticipated. He brushes his hair back from his face and watches the turtle-ducks wobble around as they eat, their shells knocking into each other with dull clunks, a few of them quacking softly as their tales wiggle in excitement. It brings out another smile.

And then—

It flows through his mind from the back, a steady build of gentle heat, and at first he doesn’t understand it, can’t interpret it, as though he’s stumbling on legs he hasn’t used in years, but then he feels it like it’s real—and it’s exactly how he remembers it, but better. Trusting, caring, safe. The feeling:

Fondness. Adoration. Love.

He looks up, his lips parted, and Sokka is watching him with this expression—one Zuko almost refuses to believe he’s reading correctly, but everything is screaming in his head that there’s only one way this makes sense.

Or it’s a very, very cruel coincidence.

“Zuko? Are you alright?”

Great, now Sokka is concerned. Why must he always burden Sokka with concern?

If this isn’t a coincidence, if Sokka really is his soulmate, then it’s still cruel. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to Sokka in the slightest.

Sokka deserves so much more. He deserves someone who won’t drag him down, who won’t put the weight of their stupid childhood traumas on his shoulders, who can make him happy. Uncle said soulmates who’ve met share emotions—does that mean Zuko is going to share his stress and misery and Sokka will never get to be happy again? Zuko’s misery will be Sokka’s misery? Sokka literally already said that he’d severed his connection because he couldn’t stand how depressed his soulmate was. If he finds out, he’s going to leave him again, Sokka is going to leave him, and take the soul connection with, and Zuko will be left all alone in the palace with a nation falling to pieces at his feet and no one to talk to—

There are arms around Zuko’s shoulders, crossing around his neck and holding on. Sokka’s body is pressed, solid and grounding, to his back, and Sokka is whispering through his hair and into his ear. 

“It’s okay, Zuko. You don’t need to be scared. I’m right here. I’m sorry. You’re okay.”

“You’re sorry?” Zuko chokes. “Why’re you sorry?”

Sokka tilts his head, shifting and pressing his cheek to Zuko’s temple. He rocks them both gently, side to side. “For leaving you, when you needed me most.” Zuko flinches when he hears the tremble in Sokka’s voice. “You were thirteen, right? The Agni Kai?”

Zuko nods, and Sokka squeezes him and presses his face closer. Zuko can feel wetness there. “And I was twelve. That’s when—that’s when I severed, isn’t it?”

Zuko turns in his arms and cups Sokka’s cheek. “It’s okay, Sokka.”

Sokka shakes his head, glaring down at the grass between them. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Well, yeah,” Zuko starts before he can help himself. “But we knew that already.”

That gets a small laugh, at least, and it gets Sokka to look back up. He puts a thumb to Zuko’s scar and, with a light touch, drags it down.

“How’d you know?” Zuko asks.

“Know what?”

“Just now, that it was me.”

“Oh,” Sokka smiles. “I was watching your face go all panicky when I felt the panic. Terror, shame, all that stuff you’re really good at.”

“I’m not good at terror,” Zuko pouts.

“Agree to disagree. You good now?”

Zuko shrugs. “For the time being, yeah.”

“Cool,” Sokka says. He pulls Zuko into another embrace, and if it lasts longer than it probably should, well, that might be becoming a pattern between them. “I also realized because, well, I was kind of hoping it was true. I mean, you apparently lied about severing your bond, which I didn’t know, but I still was kind of hoping.”

Zuko buries himself closer against Sokka’s neck, hiding his smile and his blush there.

— — —

Uncle was right. It is a sense of sharing. And it turns out, Zuko and Sokka had been doing it already, for a lot longer than Zuko would’ve thought.

There are still new things to share, though. There’s the clothes—Sokka insists on sharing Zuko’s sashes and ribbons, which he wears out and about, and then he takes any opportunity to don Zuko’s robes when they’re in their chambers, insisting that they’re more comfortable than his own. “I mean, look at these sleeves,” he says, wiggling his arm so the sleeve waves around by his knee. “Also, your stuff smells better.” Zuko always rolls his eyes, though he also sometimes inhales against Sokka’s clothes as he’s gathering them up from the floor. But that’s nobody’s business.

They share food—Sokka acts like he has domain over anything on Zuko’s plate, but shrieks uncontrollably when Zuko retaliates. It would be obnoxious if Zuko didn’t love seeing Sokka’s face painted red.

And then there’re the kisses they share. Zuko likes these a fair amount. The languid, long-lasting ones right before they fall asleep, the closed-mouth pecks when they wake up, the breathy ones they steal in alcoves when no one is looking, the passion-fueled, messy ones as they yank out of their clothes and grasp at one another.

And for all that’s happened, for all the hardships and confusion and panic, they’re here. Sharing everything, and loving each other's company, and together.