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Chapter Text

A month after Prince Iroh’s fifty-second birthday, his only child dies in a failed siege of Ba Sing Se. Had Iroh been born into a different family, he might have been surprised by his only brother choosing this time of great grief to steal his birthright. Had Iroh been a different man, he might not have blamed himself for the death of his child and his father, the disappearance of Lady Ursa, and the subsequent havoc that was placed upon his people. Had Iroh been a different man, he would not have been chased from the palace by his grief and abandoned his niece and nephew in the hands of a man he once trusted, to sail around the world in search of something, anything, that can provide him some solace.

Iroh was not a different man.

When Prince Zuko turned eight years old, his Father slammed his hands on the dinner table and explained, at length, the disappointment he’d had in Zuko from the moment he was born.

“Azula was born lucky. You were lucky to be born,” He said. 

Zuko didn’t really understand the difference, but Azula did. It showed in the way she preened, and Zuko went to bed that night knowing that luck can mean many different things.

When Prince Zuko turned thirteen years old, he waited outside the door of his Father’s meeting room, where he knew important decisions were being made. All the voices inside spoke so quietly behind the heavy wooden doors that Zuko could not hear a word. He had asked to be let inside, but no one would allow it.

I bet Uncle would have let me in, the Prince thought, but it did not matter, because Uncle was nowhere near the Fire Nation.

His thoughts were correct, though. Uncle would have let him in.

It wasn’t until Zuko was fifteen years old that he was invited to be with the men in their war room. He was to be seen and not heard, as it was a great honor to be invited into the Fire Lord’s war room. It meant he was a man, finally, and maybe Father would start to see him as the heir he is.

A general presented the idea of sacrificing a division of young soldiers to gain the upper hand against the Earth Kingdom. Zuko, unable to hold his tongue, was challenged to an Agni Kai.

For the first time in his life, he wondered if the Earth Kingdom had an equivalent to an Agni Kai. 

Facing a general in an Agni Kai was an opportunity to prove himself to his Father, to prove that he was man enough to be invited to the war room, to be considered his heir. 

Facing the Fire Lord in an Agni Kai was something else altogether, and no one had ever shown him the rule book on this circumstance.

He knelt, because it was the noble thing to do. It must be the noble thing to do. It had to be. Father had always wanted him silent at the dinner table, in the halls of the palace, even in the gardens outside. Father wanted him to say yes, sir and to avoid, at all costs, being an embarrassment to his family. 

He knelt, and he begged for his Father’s forgiveness. It was not the right thing to do. It embarrassed the Fire Lord, and he had to be punished.

For the first time in his life, he wondered if the Water Tribes knelt when they surrendered, too.

Azula watched on as his face was burned by their Father’s hand. He knew she did, because she had always watched intently when Father punished him. Like if she looked away, it might be her turn.

It was never her turn.

He still didn’t know the difference between her luck and his luck, but he did know that he wished he had never been born at all. 

He wondered, distantly, if Uncle would have protected him. He pushed the thought away at once, because he didn’t need protection. Protection from punishment would be a coward’s way out.

Hakoda, at the same time Fire Lord Ozai challenged his only son to an Agni Kai, watched his children take turns shoving each other into a snowbank, and wondered how he was going to be able to leave them behind when he sailed away.

Zuko was packed into a sailboat, groaning in pain and barely able to move, with one month’s worth of food. Fire Nation soldiers pushed him out to sea as he laid unmoving in the boat, and laughed as he became a speck on the horizon.

“Good riddance,” They joked. 

“I liked him better when he was a child,” Another laughed.

A month after General Iroh’s fifty-seventh birthday, he received news that his only nephew had been banished by the Fire Lord, sent away and only allowed to come back with his honor.

General Iroh should have been a different man.

Chapter Text

“Chief, a sailboat is approaching,” Anik said as he approached Hakoda, who was helping tie Sokka’s hair back into a wolf tail at the present moment, in the light of the early morning sky.

“A sailboat?” Hakoda echoed. It didn’t make any sense for Anik to find a sailboat worth reporting, unless—

“I can’t be sure, but I think it’s from the Fire Nation.”

Hakoda stood at once, releasing all of Sokka’s hair from his grasp. It fell limply around his face, but the boy didn’t protest. He watched on with apprehensive attention.

“Sokka, go to your sister. Stay with Otka until I come to get you,” He ordered. Then, he turned back to Anik. “Show me.”

It was a small sailboat, but it did appear to be Fire Nation. Anik, Hakoda, and Bato kept themselves concealed as it approached, but the closer it got, it appeared to be unmanned. This only served to make Hakoda worry more about what a small, unmanned Fire Nation sailboat slowly approaching their tribe could mean.

Its hull hit the border of their land by the time the sun was right above them in the sky.

Hakoda did not want to wait for Fire Nation intruders to attack them first, so he took his spear and his second-in-command towards the boat, and sent sixteen-year-old Anik back to be with the rest of the tribe. 

Hakoda was not sure what he expected to find in this boat, but what he did find was certainly very far down on the list: A young boy, perhaps younger than his own son, with a bandage covering his eye, shaking violently in a fever-induced delirium. 

“What does this mean?” Bato said, using the dull end of his spear to poke the boy's shoulder. 

“Mom,” The boy weakly cried. 

“I have no idea,” Hakoda said, feeling every bit as horrified as he always did when he learned something new about the Fire Nation.

The Chief and his second-in-command had been away for too long after Anik had returned. Otka was starting to worry, as were Sokka and Katara— who were growing louder and louder with their worry by the second, no matter how much shushing she did.

She could have sent one of the men, or even Anik, but something pulled at her gut, telling her that she needed to be the one to check on them.

“I’ll be back,” She told the Chief’s children, and slipped away without anyone noticing.

“He’s practically incapacitated,” Bato was saying. “He doesn’t even know we’re here.” 

Hakoda looked to be deep in thought as Otka approached them from behind. They were leaning over the Fire Nation sailboat, which was mostly pulled onto the shore at this point, and observing whatever was inside. Otka was relieved that whatever it was hadn’t killed them.

“The Northern Tribe would just kill him,” Bato continued. “I think we should do the same. He’s clearly Fire Nation. Then, we might be able to utilize the boat later on.”

Neither had noticed Otka, and she thought about turning around and going back to the rest of the Tribe, but she was curious about the Fire Nation citizen laying in the boat, and what could incapacitate a man from such a persistent nation enough to make him so defenseless.

When she was five paces away from the boat, the men finally noticed her.

“Otka, you shouldn’t be here,” Hakoda said. The urge to roll her eyes was strong, but she valiantly resisted.

“The two of you were completely oblivious to me walking up behind you while looking at a Fire Nation sailboat. It could have been a ruse to distract you, and you’d be as good as dead if I was a Fire Nation soldier.” The men didn’t seem to have anything to say to that.

She pushed between them, peering over into the boat.

“Otka, don’t—” Bato started, but it was too late.

She was already staring into the face of a weeping Fire Nation child.

The boy could not have been any older than the Chief's son, though his upper body— which was inexplicably bare— had the muscles of a man a decade or two older. Most boys Otka had seen at that age were strong, but they had a layer of fat necessary for growing and comfort over any muscle. He had only a ponytail on his head, which was strange, but Otka wasn’t familiar with Fire Nation hair traditions. He looked equal parts too cold and too hot, with a flushed, sweaty face and shivers shaking the whole boat. 

The strangest part of it all, though, was the bandage wrapped around his face that the boy fretted at, even in his hallucinating state. Which he was clearly in, judging by the cries for his mother who was no longer with him.

It was one of the saddest sights Otka had ever seen— which were plentiful in a world plagued by a century-old war— and she remembered, with sudden, intense rage, the conversation that she had heard as she had approached.

“You can’t kill him!” She shouted, turning to Hakoda, who seemed stunned by her outburst. “He’s just a child!”

Otka, herself, had only seen twenty-four Midnight Suns, but it was more than enough for her heart to ache for the young boy.

“An enemy child,” Bato reminded her. She rounded on him, too.

“A child raised in the Fire Nation, alone on a sailboat and sick. He doesn’t even know where he is!” 

“He could be a firebender,” Hakoda said, but he sounded like he was mostly talking to himself. Otka returned her full attention to him. It was more important to convince him than Bato, after all.

“Chief Hakoda, I don’t think he even knows if he’s a firebender right now. I don’t think he’s capable of attacking us in this state.” As if to prove her point, the boy cried out for his mother once more.

“Your suggestion is for us to heal him until he’s better and then let him attack us?” Bato scoffed. On any other day, Otka would have said she was quite fond of Bato, but right now she wanted to take his stupid opinions and—

“No!” The boy shouted, eyes still closed. His voice was hoarse— from overuse or dehydration, Otka didn’t know. “Please,” He whimpered, and Otka was done discussing anything with these men. Call her stupid, she didn’t care.

She climbed into the boat herself, ignoring the protests of Bato and Hakoda, and leaned forward to press a hand against the child’s forehead. He pushed into the chill of her fingers. Otka wondered what injury he was sporting underneath the bandage, but there were other, more important concerns right now.

“Hakoda, he’s feverish. Please, imagine if this was Sokka. Wouldn’t you wish someone from the Fire Nation would help him?” Her fingertips slid from the boy’s forehead to his cheek, where the flush was the brightest.

Hakoda was quiet for several moments as Otka looked on, brushing her thumb against chapped lips and running her eyes over too bare skin. She would have to get a boy in the Tribe to give up one of his coats. 

Behind her, Hakoda sighed.

“They would kill any Water Tribe boy who washed up on their shore, no questions asked,” He answered, and Otka couldn’t argue with that. “But, we are better than them. We’ll bring the boy to Hahona and see what he can do.” 

Bato made no sound. Had Otka been able to look away from the boy's face, Bato likely would have looked shocked.

“He’s probably going to die, anyway,” Hakoda said, dismissively. 

Zuko was six days into his banishment when he was finally feeling good enough to do anything other than lay in the bottom of his sailboat in pain. No medical supplies had been given to him, only the task to find the Avatar. He had been awake enough to remember that, as well as aware enough to recognize the rocking of the boat as he was placed into it and pushed away from his homeland. 

He was eight days into his banishment when the itching had started, which was easy to resist. It was likely a sign of the wound healing, which meant the pain might be over someday soon. Food was finally appealing again, and his motivation to find the Avatar was strong. With an eagerness Azula had always teased him for, and having drifted so far South already, he set out for the Southern Air Temple.

Ten days into his banishment, the fever started.

Eleven days in, the hallucinations began, as well as the desire to travel further in the direction of the cool air. 

Twelve days in, his mother visited him.

Thirteen days in, his father did.

Hahona had never seen a fever as bad as this one. The child that Chief Hakoda brought to him was so hot he almost burned, which might be what normal fevers are like in the Fire Nation. He couldn’t imagine the hallucinations were a good sign, though.

The boy did not take well to the blankets that Hahona piled onto him, constantly writhing out of them and making fussy sounds. Hahona tried to be as patient as he could, but when Otka poked her head into the room he couldn’t be more relieved at the set of extra, willing hands. Hakoda had been present the whole time, but had already made his laissez-faire position on helpfulness towards the boy very clear.

“Hold him under the blankets as best you can, I don’t care how you do it, just stay out of my way,” He ordered, and Otka got down on her hands and knees on the floor to tuck the blankets around the boy and hold his arms down under the blankets.

“Let’s have a look under that bandage, shall we?” He muttered.

“Isn’t the fever more important right now?” Hakoda asked. Hahona wanted to roll his eyes; the Oh, now you care, nearly escaped from the tip of his tongue, but he stayed quiet.

“The wound could be what’s causing the fever, if it’s gotten infected. You didn’t happen to see any medical supplies in that boat, did you?” He pulled away the bandage as he spoke, and got his answer before the Chief opened his mouth.

“It was just some food, a map, and a compass.” Hakoda leaned forward over Otka’s shoulder.

“I can tell,” Hahona muttered. The wound was a burn, puss-filled and it smelled terribly. Otka and Hakoda both wrinkled their noses at it.

“Do you have the supplies to take care of this?” Otka asked. Her eagerness to help didn’t surprise Hahona, she’d always shown an interest in medicine.  He had been meaning to ask her to join him for a day in his studies, but had never gotten around to it. 

“Maybe,” He told her, and he knew the answer wasn’t enough for her. Stubbornly hopeful, fiercely protective. Able to convince the Chief to drag a Fire Nation child to their tribe’s healer. 

This woman was insane. Hahona was more than a little intrigued by her.

“What’s next?” Bato asked once he finally joined the others. He had been inspecting the sailboat for any issues, any hidden agendas or clues to why the boy was alone in a sailboat in the first place. Ultimately, it turned up nothing. The sailboat was shockingly empty, even by the standards of a small boat. It had quite a bit of food, low-quality military rations from the look of it, but minimal supplies otherwise. It made Bato wonder if the boy had had to leave somewhere in a hurry, to bring so few essentials. He hadn’t even been wearing a shirt, which seemed very strange. 

“Next?” Hahona laughed, mostly to himself, in the funny way he did. “It takes much longer than this to get a fever down. Especially a Fire Nation fever, it seems.”

“What do you mean?” Hakoda asked.

“Feel him,” Hahona invited, leaning down himself to graze his fingertips against his forehead.

“He did feel very, very warm when I touched him earlier,” Otka nodded. Bato noted that she was holding the boy’s wrists under the blanket.

“It takes a lot more than that to restrain a firebender,” Bato told her, at the same time Hakoda reached forward to put his own hand against his forehead. Bato was surprised when he hissed and pulled his hand away.

“Never felt a fever that hot, have you, Chief?” Hahona said, at his obvious discomfort.

Otka looked over her shoulder at Bato.

“I’m not trying to restrain him, I’m trying to keep him from throwing the blankets off, again,” She glared. Otka’s glare was something Bato was used to and, in fact, had come to accept quite fondly. “Besides, we don’t know he’s a firebender, yet.”

“I don’t know about that,” Hakoda mused. “I’ve heard firebenders run hot. It’s the only explanation for him surviving a fever that high.”

Otka, surprisingly, did not argue with Hakoda. From Bato’s limited view, he could only see the side of her face, but it was enough for him to tell when her face softened, eyes becoming melancholy.

“He hasn’t survived anything, yet,” She said, voice barely above a whisper. 

Hahona’s head jerked up at her sudden change in tone. He watched her thumbs circle patterns into the child’s wrists for a few long moments. Then, he glanced at Hakoda.

“I believe your opinion to be correct,” He admitted. “I just have to hope it isn’t too high, for a firebender.”

“Or hope it is,” Bato conceded. He knew that Otka thought he was being cruel, but frankly, he was just being realistic. There was no place they could hold a firebender captive here. He felt that Hakoda was making the decision to try and save his life for the wrong reasons, allowing Otka to pretend to mother a boy who would probably kill them all in a heartbeat. At Otka’s outraged look, he elaborated on his opinions. “Should we just hope that he doesn’t melt all of our homes and burn our ships to the ground?” Bato knew his closest friend well, and he could see the turmoil within him. Otka would make her points, and Bato would make his. Bato was clearly correct, but Otka had the upper hand of being able to pull on anyone’s heartstrings. She could also be quite terrifying, when it came down to it.

“No,” Hakoda answered, ending any argument Otka was opening her mouth to make. “We will have someone by Hahona’s side guarding this area at all times until we get a chance to speak with the boy and understand his intentions.” The way he jerked his head to the side was an unspoken command, and Bato followed him outside. 

“A firebenders intentions will never be good,” Bato muttered.

“I know that,” Hakoda sighed, clearly tiring of all the arguing. “We’ll just wait for the boy to wake up and show Otka his true colors, and then we’ll… do away with him.”

“That’s…” Bato turned his head to glance back at the sliver of Otka’s worried face that he could still see. “…not a bad plan.”

“Thank you for your approval,” Hakoda said in a way that was very much not gratitude but rather annoyance parading as politeness. Then, without missing a beat, the chief turned around and pulled Sokka out by his coat from the snowbank he had hidden himself in. “Bato, leave us. I have to discuss the ethics of snooping with my son.”

It had been all Kai’s fault, really. Sokka had pulled the mission off perfectly. He was a natural-born strategist, after all. He’d found his way to where Bato was inspecting the boat Anik had mentioned, stealthily followed him to Hahona’s igloo, and sat quietly outside, catching bits and pieces of information. 

He heard the words firebender and boy tossed around a lot, but he still didn’t understand exactly what was going on when Kai suddenly appeared.

“Sokka!” He shouted. Kai was tiny, a year older than Sokka but still a runt in terms of his stature. They had been best friends pretty much since they could crawl their way over to each other, and Dad often teased that Kai made Sokka look like the smart one. It probably had something to do with how Kai stubbornly refused to keep his hair up in a wolf tail past breakfast-time everyday, and his clothes always had tears in them from whatever nonsense he got up to. Katara offered to patch it up the first time Kai had torn a hole in his pants, but soon after she learned her lesson in offering to repair things for stupid teenage boys. 

“Sh!” Sokka answered the moment Kai opened his mouth to speak again. He put on his best serious face, the one Katara said made him look constipated. What do little sisters know anyway?

“Dude,” Kai said, voice not as quiet as Sokka would like but good enough. “Everyone has been whispering all day. What is going on, Chief Junior?”

Kai liked to call him that whenever he wanted something from him. Sokka had to explain to him every single time that just because he was the Chief's son didn’t mean he knew everything Dad did and no, he could not steal his Dad’s spear. Not after last time. That had been way too close of a call with Katara’s hair.

“I know,” Sokka said, mustering up his best duh tone. “That’s why I’m here. I’m spying.” 

Kai’s eyes went all big and shiny. He was a sucker for Sokka’s missions.

“That’s so cool! What have you found out, Mister Spy Sokka?”

The temptation to divulge everything was strong. 

“Pinky promise to not tell anyone?” He asked, offering his pinky to Kai, who immediately latched onto it.

“Of course, man!” 

Sokka glanced back over his shoulder, shifting his weight just a little bit closer to Kai.

“Well,” He murmured. “All I’ve really heard, is that there was a Fire Nation sailboat on our shore, and they’ve been talking about a firebender in there.”

Kai’s jaw practically unhinged itself from his face. Sokka knew he’d screwed up, but it was too late.

“A firebender?” Kai all but shouted, and Sokka threw both of them into the nearest snowbank just in time for them to avoid Dad and Bato seeing them.

“A firebenders intentions will never be good,” Bato was saying, which fortunately muffled the squeak Kai made. 

Kai, always the do before think kind of person, licked Sokka’s hand. Sokka couldn’t really blame him, if someone had shoved a hand over his mouth he would have done the same. Especially if it was Kai. Or Katara.

Unfortunately, it resulted in him only catching the end of whatever Dad was saying.

“…and then we’ll… do away with him,” Dad finished, and Sokka wanted to scream. Who was ‘him’? And why did Kai have to suck so much?  

Sokka glared into the snow he was surrounded by, fully aware that Kai couldn’t see him. He would absolutely chew him out for that once they were out of this mess.

“Thank you for your approval,” Dad said to Bato in a way that Sokka could tell did not mean ‘thank you’. It sounded like the conversation was almost over, and Sokka could almost taste the relief he felt until he was suddenly yanked from his hiding spot and came face-to-face with a Dad who was very unamused by his antics. 

“Bato, leave us,” Dad said, “I have to discuss the ethics of snooping with my son.”

Sokka let out a very unmanly whine.

It took Sokka all of three seconds for him to rat out Kai, too, because it was his fault he got caught in the first place. Kai was not happy about it, judging by the look on his face as they sullenly walked back towards the rest of the tribe. 

“You got me in trouble with the Chief, Sokka. Mom’s gonna kill me!” Kai whined, nudging his shoulder against Sokka’s own.

“It’s just Dad,” Sokka told him. “He wasn’t even that mad.”

Though that wasn’t really true, was it? Dad had been pretty mad, actually. In the “ I’m mad at you but only because I love you very, very much” kind of way.

“Boys, listen very carefully to me,”  Dad had said, with this look in his eye that kind of scared Sokka.

“Do not come near this area again. Do you understand? It’s dangerous.” And Sokka had been inclined to believe him. 

“I can’t believe you got caught snooping,” Katara had said that night, after Gran Gran had also given him a stern talking-to. 

Sokka rolled his eyes with a huff, rolling over on his bed so his back faced her.

“Tomorrow, you’re following my plan.” Sokka could hear the evil grin in Katara’s voice. “And we’re going to find out what Dad is up to.”

Suddenly, Sokka didn’t feel too worried about how dangerous whatever was in that igloo could be. Katara was on his side, now. 

Chapter Text

“We’re supposed to sail out in twelve days, Chief,” Bato said, just as the sun was setting. The Fire Nation child had been in their care now for just over a day and a half, and if Hakoda was being honest with himself, he’d avoided checking in on him for the past day. Every glance at him brought on a mental barrage of questions. He had been getting regular updates from Hahona, who believed that the fever was slowly coming down, much to Bato’s dismay.

“I know,” Hakoda answered. He did know. It had been all he’d been thinking about this past day.

“What do you plan on doing with the child if Otka insists we keep him after he wakes?” Bato asked. It was one of those questions that wasn’t really a question, because Bato already knew the answer he wanted, and the answer Hakoda would give. Hakoda answered anyway.

“He could have valuable information about the Fire Nation. We might as well keep him alive long enough to get that out of him.” It was not, by any means, the answer he knew Bato wanted. It had been a test, to ensure that he was willing to do what needed to be done. He knew Bato would never go against his orders and kill the child behind his back, but he also knew that Bato ultimately did not agree with any other outcome. 

“You think he’d just willingly give us information to defeat his people?” Bato raised one eyebrow.

“Maybe,” Hakoda sighed. “We could even take him with us on the ship. He could help us—”

“Need I remind you that a ship is highly flammable?” The eyebrow was still raised. Hakoda resisted the urge to rub his temples. He had to remind himself how grateful he was for Bato’s equalizing guidance in times like these. They balanced one another out, didn’t they?

“I know, Bato,” He muttered, and even to his own ears he sounded petulant.

Katara might be the kind of little sister who would boss him around like a mom, put snow in his boots when she was mad, and tattle on him to Gran Gran from time to time, but she made up for all of it when her interests aligned with Sokka’s in the most beautiful representation of true sibling bonding—

Conniving to find out what Dad was hiding. 

Sokka was the plan guy, obviously, but Katara was the… master-of-manipulation guy. Or, in other words, the one who Dad trusted to stay out of trouble more. Katara could do anything sneaky or suspicious, and Dad wouldn’t even notice. Which was so unfair, because Sokka could never get away with—

Well, he shouldn’t complain too much, not with Katara on his side right now, when it really mattered.

Unfortunately, Katara felt that Kai, as the oldest person involved and by virtue of being not-Sokka, was a crucial part of the plan. Sokka had told her it was a bad idea, and she didn’t listen.

It went something like this:

“Does everyone understand the plan?” Katara asked the group of little ones gathered around them. The oldest of them all was only nine, so this was her third time explaining the plan. After the second time, everyone had needed a “quick” potty break, so they were getting off to a later start than they had hoped. The sun was beginning to set which meant parents would start pulling their kids back to their homes for dinner and it would ruin their plan. 

Luckily, this time, ten little heads nodded in agreement with the plan. Katara could just about cry in relief.

Sokka and Kai were in charge of sneaking into Hahona’s igloo, while Katara was in charge of distracting Dad and Bato. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to be in charge of, but Dad had developed a very good lie detector for Sokka. Not so much for her. 

“Ready?” Katara asked the two boys. 

“Pfft,” Sokka smirked. “C’mon Katara, you’re talking to—”

“The plan guy, I know.” Katara sighed deeply. This had better go perfectly. “Let’s do this, then.”

And then she was off.

“Everyone get into their positions,” Sokka commanded in a hushed tone as Katara ran off in the direction of their dad. Seven of the kids gathered around the fishing hole, giggling quietly to themselves in anticipation. “By the time the Chief is here there better not be any more laughing, okay? I want you to show him your best acting skills, do you understand?”

Two of the boys were hiding Iwi in a fishing basket, grinning evilly as they did so. Sokka remembered them as the kids who found a baby koalaotter a few years back. It had been Sokka’s first lesson with how cruel humans could be. The boys were twins, Ari and Akut, and they’d always been the kind of kids to get up to no good, but this time was different. This time, Sokka had been the one to find them tormenting the little koalaotter, messing with it and refusing to let it go back into the water no matter how desperately it was trying to escape. It was the only time Sokka had ever raised his voice at any of the younger kids, and that night he balled his eyes out while Katara comforted him. 

Sokka wasn’t sure if it was a great idea to give the kids permission to mess with the Chief, but it was too late now.

“We should get going, Sokka.” Kai nudged his arm. He motioned in the direction of Hahona’s igloo with the torch he was holding. He’d lit it once the sun had settled low enough that they couldn’t see one another’s faces. “We don’t want to be here when they get back.”

Do not come near this area again. Do you understand? It’s dangerous, Dad’s voice echoed in his head.

“Yeah,” Sokka nodded, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

“Dad, Bato— Iwi fell into a fishing hole! We need your help!” 

Dad had started running in the direction she’d come from before she’d even finished her sentence, and Bato was quick to follow. 

The kids were all crowded around the hole, shouting different things all at once. Little Iwi snickered quietly while poking her eyes out of the fishing basket. Katara sent a stern glare in her direction.

Their acting was horrendous, but it didn’t seem to matter to Dad. He had always been protective of the children of the tribe, something Katara deeply admired about him. 

He threw the light coat he’d been wearing onto the floor.

“I’ll go in, if you’ll help me get back out,” He said to Bato. 

“How long has she been under?” Bato asked the group of children. Katara was just about to answer, when she noticed Dad’s attention was being pulled away, and she almost immediately recognized what was drawing it. Kai’s torch was glowing inside of Hahona’s igloo, making it look like a large lantern in the night. 

“Bato,” Dad said, and Katara could see the plan falling to shambles. 

“I’ll get the girl,” Bato told him. “You get the firebender.” 

The snow crunched under their feet as they wound their way through the village. The sunlight was completely gone now, with the sky dark and the snow glittering in the moonlight. It made Sokka feel uneasy in a way he usually didn’t when getting up to no good. He was good at getting up to no good— it kind of came with the territory of being a big brother.

“So, the plan is to tell Hahona that one of the girls is stuck in the ice fishing hole and needs medical attention, and just hope he believes us?” Kai muttered, waving his torch around in a way that was starting to make Sokka uncomfortable.

“Of course he’ll believe us,” Sokka scoffed. Hahona was a bit gullible, when it came down to it. He’d go running down to the ice hole, and then Kai and Sokka would be free to snoop around the place without anybody even knowing they were there. Kai’s torch suddenly came dangerously close to Sokka’s ear. “Hey, be careful with that thing, would you? You’re not a firebender.”

Kai rolled his eyes, but stopped fidgeting so much. They stopped just a few paces short of the igloo.

“You don’t think there’s really a firebender in there, do you?” Kai asked. The apprehension on his face was clear as day under the light of the fire.

“No.” Sokka thought the very notion was ridiculous. Why would they keep a firebender so close to their tribe? However, they might have some cool Fire Nation technology in there. “And even if there is a firebender in there, it’s a dead firebender.” They stared at the door for several moments, both surely contemplating the idea of coming face-to-face with a dead firebender. It wouldn’t be a pretty sight, if that was the case.

 Sokka took a deep breath. He put on his best warrior face, and stepped forward. “Let’s go.”

“Firebender?” Katara repeated, feeling all the blood drain from her face. Dad was already gone.

Katara had no doubts about Sokka’s own abilities to protect himself. He was stubborn, and brave even when he shouldn’t be. But he was her big brother— kind and sensitive, the type to cry after finding some boys torturing a koalaotter. He took after their Dad, exuding warmth and doting on all the younger kids in their tribe. 

Sokka, her big brother, going up against a firebender with nothing but a torch. 

“Everyone, back away from the hole!” Bato commanded, ready to discard the knife holstered to his hip and dive in.

“Bato, wait!” She threw her hands out towards the fishing basket Iwi was in and opened it, chest heaving and eyes wild. “It was a lie— Sokka and Kai. They’re— They went—” Her voice broke, but Bato understood.

“Tui and La,” He muttered. Under his typically indifferent expression, Katara saw fear.

“He’s not going to be okay, is he?” She asked, feeling so much younger than she was. She feared she already knew the answer to her question, by the look in Bato’s eyes.

“I’ll try my best,” He told her, and then he ran.

Upon entering the igloo, many things happened at once. First, Sokka noticed that two more bodies than he had expected were present in the room. Kai, not realizing how this completely foiled their plan, opened his big, stupid mouth and said: 

“We need your help! Iwi’s fallen into an ice fishing hole!”

(Somebody get this guy some acting lessons.)

At the same time, the second person, who Sokka recognized as one of the men set to sail away with Dad, started telling them that they needed to leave immediately. Hahona joined in, adamantly insisting that they shouldn’t be here and that he would speak to them outside.

It didn’t matter, though, because Sokka could barely hear the shouting over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. He’d found Dad’s secret, in the corner of the room.

There, tucked away under a concerning amount of blankets, was a boy Sokka had never seen before. He seemed to have just woken up to the loud sound of the adults in the room shouting. His skin was pale, the same kind of pale that Sokka had only seen when his mother had died. His hair was in a style that wasn’t familiar to Sokka, and strangely, he had a bandage that covered most of his face. 

His expression returned the same bewilderment that Sokka felt.

“Who…?” He trailed off, realizing no one would listen to him over their shouted commands. 

The moment Dad appeared was the moment Sokka remembered just how screwed he was. Kai’s torch was ripped from his hands, the shadows in the room swaying as it went.

“Have you gone insane?” He shouted, making Kai flinch. “Bringing fire into a room with a firebender?”

Distantly, Sokka thought maybe he should stop staring at the boy, who was no longer returning the look of wide-eyed confusion. His one eye had moved to Dad, now.

“He really is a firebender?” Sokka said, voice small.

“I told you not to come in here. You both need to leave, now!” Dad sounded angry, and he never sounded angry. He would sound stern, or annoyed, or even frustrated. But he never sounded angry.

It made Sokka think about something Gran Gran had told him once— Very often, behind anger there is fear. 

If his dad, the bravest person he knew, was afraid, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. 

Instead of waiting for Kai and Sokka to comply, Dad rounded on his heel, looking to extinguish the torch in the bucket of cool water Hahona had been dipping the fever rags in. His action was cut short by the startling scream of sheer terror that came from the firebender on the floor. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, looking terribly desperate to get away, and Sokka was suddenly struck with the awful memory of that terrified koalaotter. Surrounded by people bigger than him, blocking him from every escape route and shouting all the while. 

“Dad—” Sokka’s heart was pounding in his chest in a way it had never done. Kai’s hand was still in the air holding a torch that was no longer there.

The firebender had crawled his way back to the furthest corner of the room, eyes still trained on Dad. Then, he seemed to think better of his current position, and rotated himself until he was on his knees, face pressed to the floor.

Father was barely visible behind the flame in his palm, but he was yelling, and though Zuko couldn’t make out what he was yelling about, he feared it was too late to ask for forgiveness.

He did it anyway.

“Please, Father,” He was crying in a way he hadn’t last time, mind racing with the memory of the pain. The smell of burnt flesh. His face burned where the bandage was pressed against the floor, mocking him. Would Father burn the other side of his face this time? “Please. I won’t fight you, I won’t. I’m sorry for—” What had he done this time? He should have listened better when Father was shouting. “I won’t do it again, I won’t.”

The strange boy was sobbing into the floor, and when Dad took another step forward, he turned the unbandaged side of his face down, towards the ground.

“The flame,” Hahona said, speaking up for the first time since Dad had joined them. “It’s a burn, Chief. He’s afraid of your torch.” Hahona gently plucked the torch out of Dad’s hands, and extinguished it in the bucket with a quiet hiss. The boy— the firebender— still would not look up from the ground. 

For the first time in Sokka’s life, his Dad seemed to be speechless. Every adult in the room was watching this child with such apprehension, like they didn’t want to take the first swing but didn’t want to let him take the first swing, either.

“Sokka,” Kai said next to him, fingers looping around Sokka’s wrist. Tugging, desperate to leave. 

“Dad,” Sokka couldn’t help it. He felt like he had to say something. “I think he’s just scared.”

The words seemed to have an effect of some kind, at least. Any hesitation or fear that had been present on his face shifted into quiet determination.

A cluster of noise filled the room as Bato appeared. Kai flinched away, pulling Sokka with him.

“Stand back!” Bato shouted, knife drawn. It scared the firebender just as badly as it had Kai, his arms wrapping around the top of his bowed head as he shook. 

“Bato.” Dad said, holding up a hand. Everything felt a little less life-threatening now, with the way Dad had gone quiet and slowed his movements down. “I need everyone in this room to leave.”

“Hakoda,” Bato faltered where he was holding the knife. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am very serious. Everyone, out.” In a slow series of movements, everyone began to shift towards the door. 

“Dad.” Sokka tried to convey everything he was feeling in that one word. 

Dad understood. He was good like that.

“I’ll be okay. Go to your sister.” With a firm hand on his shoulder, he nudged him towards the door. Kai led him out by his wrist.

Just as Sokka was almost out of earshot, he heard Dad call for him one last time. He turned over his shoulder to hear what he had to say.

“Send for Otka, please.”

Hakoda was alone, then, with a scared, young firebender. Probably not the smartest of choices he’d made in his life, but he was certain he’d hear about that from Bato later. No use in thinking too much about it now.

I think he’s just scared, Sokka had said, and judging by the way the child was still curled into a ball and sniffling, he was very correct. 

Hakoda kept his steps light and his body close to the ground as he moved towards him. Fortunately, he did not scream or cry the way he had before, but he resolutely stayed completely still. In the chaos, he’d moved out of his bedroll and blankets and onto the much colder ground. 

“Come on, little one,” Hakoda said, voice low. What would he say to Sokka? “Let’s get you back to bed.”

The boy did not move. But, he didn’t start throwing fire around, so it seemed like it wasn’t going terribly wrong yet.

“Aren’t you cold?” He tried. No response, aside from the smallest shiver. “If you get back into your bed, I’ll get you some food.” He had to be hungry, he hadn’t eaten since they’d found him.

Still, the boy did not budge. It seemed the fear of imminent doom was stronger than his basic physical needs. Hakoda let out a sigh and shifted until he was seated with his legs crossed under him. A firebender who feared fire. It sounded like the punchline to a bad joke. 

Hakoda reached out to the bedroll and blankets and dragged them across the floor until they were closer to the two of them.

“Come on.” He could hear Bato grumbling about how Patience clearly isn’t your strongest virtue, Koda. “Stubborn twerp,” He sighed, under his breath.

Reaching out, he scooped two hands under the back of the firebenders arms and waited momentarily for a reaction. There was a small flinch, but nothing beyond that.

“Come on,” He urged again, pulling the child towards him as he went to stand. He was met with little resistance as the kid rose to his feet with him. Once he was up, he swayed a little, frenzied eyes scanning the room but not quite seeing anything. He stumbled forward with shaky legs, so Hakoda wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

“Into bed you go, little one,” He muttered, and thanked the spirits that the worst emotion he felt now was mild annoyance rather than the grief of losing a child.

“Chief,” Someone said, nudging his shoulder. He opened his eyes.

“Hm?” He hummed, looking up at the face of Otka. She was standing over him, and he was… he was on the floor. Why was he on the floor?

“You… sent for me?” Otka said, sounding amused. Yes, he had sent for her. It couldn’t have been that long ago, now. Had he been sleeping?

“Oh, yes,” He answered. “I needed help calming the boy down.”

“Well,” Otka grinned, “Looks like you didn’t need my help after all.”

Hakoda had a crick in his neck that stung when he maneuvered his head around his surroundings. Ah, that was why he was sleeping on the floor. There was a small but heavy firebender crushing his right arm. He had collapsed on top of the bedroll, taking Hakoda with him, and deliriously refused to move off of his newfound pillow. Hakoda, sorely in need of a nap himself, must have fallen asleep alongside him.

“I guess not,” Hakoda muttered.

Otka smiled, a kind of smile that meant she felt she had won, and Hakoda supposed she had. The boy hadn’t tried to hurt anyone, even when he thought he was being threatened. With an impending headache, Hakoda knew Bato would never hear the end of this from her. 

“Is everything okay?” Hahona asked as soon as he saw her leaving the igloo. “It seems like a good sign that my home isn’t a puddle.”

“Everything is fine,” Otka confirmed. Then, she looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and Bato?”

Bato, who had been standing guard close by ever since he was sent out of the igloo, raised an eyebrow at her.

“I think you can stand down now. Your commander is having himself a little nap in there.”

Oh, if looks could kill.

Chapter Text

Please, Father, the boy had said. I won’t fight you.

Hakoda hadn’t stopped thinking about it all night after tucking his own children into their beds. 

I won’t fight you. 

All night, Hakoda wracked his brain for a scenario in which he could imagine either Sokka or Katara uttering those words to him, but he only reached the same conclusion that he had known from the beginning— there wasn’t one.

Except for a universe in which he would have burned his child’s face, and that child lived in constant fear of it happening again. 

—

Please, Father.

Sokka had heard it clearly.

I won’t fight you.

Katara had thrown herself at him the moment he returned from Hahona’s igloo. She had heard there was a firebender in there, and she had been terrified for his life. Sokka didn’t know how to explain to her exactly what he had seen, so he didn’t. She would never pry, assuming that whatever he had seen was horrifying enough to make him shut his mouth for once.

He supposed that was true, anyway. 

—

The sun wasn’t even over the horizon yet when the firebender woke up that morning, the sky still half dark blue, with just a hint of orange in the East. 

Hahona had been pushing away his feelings about the entire situation for quite some time, viewing his newfound project as nothing more than a sick person, rather than a firebending child.

It wasn’t until that child woke up that Hahona felt any particular way about it.

Hahona had been awake, still rattled from the night before, when the firebender struggled out of bed to get up on his two feet.

“Who are you?” Were the first words of true awareness he spoke, harsh and biting in a voice that made him sound older than Hahona had thought him to be. “And…” He faltered, but only for a moment. “And where am I?” 

He stood tall, proud and almost pompous. Almost like he was challenging anyone in the room to mess with him.

Please, Father he had said. I won’t fight you. 

Hahona certainly had feelings about this whole ordeal, now. He just wasn’t entirely sure what they were.

—

“Chief,” said Hahona, the morning after the incident. “He’s awake again.”

“How awake?” Hakoda hadn’t even had a chance to speak with Sokka about everything. 

“Sentient, at least,” Hahona shrugged. “No more of that…” Crying out for his mother. Begging for forgiveness from his father. 

“Okay,” Hakoda nodded. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

—

The boy was, in fact, much more clear-headed this time around. When Hakoda entered the room with Bato trailing behind him, he eyed them both with a glare that could rival Katara’s.

The boy waited for one of them to speak first, and, seeming to catch on to Bato’s willingness to have a staring contest, kept his eye trained on Bato rather than Hakoda. He seemed surprised when it was Hakoda who spoke first, but quickly recovered by leveling his glare at him, instead. 

“What’s your name, boy?” Hakoda said, already concentrating on keeping his tone even and voice at a moderate volume. 

This seemed to throw him off, by the way his glare dissipated and his tense stance lessened. 

“You don’t know?” He asked. The question came out like a dagger and had probably escaped before he could think better of it. He adjusted his posture, shifting his body to match the pride in his voice. “I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, heir to Fire Lord Ozai.”

The air in the room went still. Bato’s hand went not-so-subtly to the holstered knife on his hip. 

Hakoda tried to recover from his surprise quickly.

“I am Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe. This is my second-in-command, Bato.”

The prince watched Bato with some apprehension. 

“You were keeping me here and you didn’t have any idea who I was?” He sounded angry, much to Hakoda’s confusion. He suspected that it must have something to do with pride. “You’re all idiots,” The boy huffed.

“Watch your tongue, Prince,” Bato barked, which was ironic, considering that he would have agreed with that statement if it had come from anyone else in the room.

“It’s simply a fact,” Prince Zuko barked back with just as much force. 

“Brat,” Bato answered, sounding very much sixteen and not at all like a fierce warrior. 

“Would it be safe to assume you are a firebender?” Hakoda gracefully ignored his second-in-command’s temper. Everyone in the room was already certain of the answer to this particular question.

“I have been blessed with Agni’s gift,” The prince said, as a sort of confirmation.

Gathering himself with one deep breath, Bato turned to Hakoda. “Might I suggest, Chief, that we discuss this new information outside?” 

—

Hahona really wished that everyone would quit leaving him alone with a firebending child. He never signed up to be a babysitter— and at this point, this was beginning to feel more like beekeeping than babysitting.

“How is your eye feeling?” Hahona asked the boy, because he hadn’t had a chance to since he woke up and self-reports were much more useful to him than staring at a wound.

The Fire Prince glared at him, though, like his question was an insult. The pride of Fire Nation citizens was unmatched. 

“I can give you something for the pain,” He offered, only making the boy’s glare sharpen.

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Zuko spat. If he’d have crossed his arms over his chest right then, he’d have looked like an indignant toddler. He continued to stand with his back tall. The rigidity must have been difficult to maintain, he had a thin sheen of sweat over his skin. 

Hahona shrugged, throwing his hands up. “I’m just trying to help, kid.”

Zuko swayed where he stood, looking towards the doorway of the igloo. 

“They’re discussing how they’ll kill me, aren’t they?” The aggressive nonchalance of the question was only slightly disturbing. Hahona supposed that princes might be exposed to more attempts on their lives than most normal people.

Hahona shrugged once more. The prince shifted on his feet, a strange nervous tic for a member of the Fire Nation’s royal family. He was shaky, too, his body straining to keep him up.

“I don’t know. They usually don’t include me in the execution talks. Or any of the talks, for that matter.”

Hahona had only a moment to realize that the slow shifting from foot to foot wasn’t so much of a nervous tic as it was him trying to keep himself conscious before the prince dropped to the ground like a rock.

—

 “He’s the Fire Nation Prince, Hakoda,” Bato said, like the statement alone was a demand.

“You would suggest that I murder the Fire Nation Prince and hope that the Fire Lord never finds out?”

“Not necessarily. What if we ransom him?” Bato mused. 

The idea wasn’t a terrible one. However…

“I don’t think,” He replied slowly. “I don’t think that there is anything we could ask for that Ozai would give us in exchange for his son, Bato.”

“I don’t understand,” Bato said plainly. “We have his heir.” They hadn’t had a chance to speak about the events of the previous night. Hakoda had sleepily brushed him off with a simple We’ll talk about it tomorrow. 

“Bato,” He lowered his voice. “Fire Lord Ozai was the one who gave him that burn.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Hahona spoke suddenly, popping his head out the front of the igloo. “But your prince has gone down.”

“Gone down?” Hakoda repeated, with the kind of concern that should have been directed at a child of the tribe and not Fire Nation royalty.  

—

The boy hadn’t eaten in two days, which, along with stress and the infection, had made him prone to fainting spells.

“You need to eat, Prince Zuko,” Hakoda said, holding the bowl of stew out to the prince. Hakoda had politely declined Bato’s presence at this second interrogation, much to his dismay. Bato would be demanding that they step outside to privately discuss matters after every other word, and it just wouldn’t be practical. Hakoda had also given Hahona a much needed break with the assurance that he would be fine on his own. “And we need to talk.”

Zuko looked very exhausted at the idea of talking, while simultaneously looking utterly perplexed at the idea of eating with Hakoda. 

“I would never take food from anyone in the Water Tribes, let alone the Chief.” He swayed on his feet as he spoke, but maintained his balance. Nonetheless, Hakoda eyed him carefully, wary of another firebender-down incident. 

After a moment of consideration, Hakoda sighed quietly, then sat cross-legged on the floor, swapping the bowl he was holding for the bowl he’d been offering to Zuko. 

“Fine, then, you can have mine, and I’ll eat the poisoned one. How does that sound?” Zuko remained standing, for a moment, before visibly second-guessing his stance and joining Hakoda on the floor. 

“You can do what you want,” He snapped.

“Thank you for your permission, Prince Zuko,” Hakoda snarked back, in a way that was much too similar to how he would speak to Sokka. He took his bowl of soup and began to eat, hoping to encourage similar behavior in Zuko. No such luck. “My first question is why, exactly, was the Prince of the Fire Nation in a boat, half-dressed, with military rations and nothing else?”

He politely sidestepped mentioning the festering wound that had been on the prince’s face, too, but it didn’t stop Zuko’s expression from closing off further.

“I was sent on a mission by the Fire Lord,” The prince answered.

“What mission would that be?” Hakoda asked, feigning indifference by continuing to eat his food. Zuko scoffed, as though the very thought of giving information to the Water Tribe was beneath him. 

“It has nothing to do with you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The thought had crossed Hakoda’s mind. “Unless, of course, you have the Avatar in this village.”

—

“The Avatar?” The incredulous look on the chief’s face brought heat to Zuko’s cheeks. “The Avatar has been missing for over a hundred years, last I checked. Does the Fire Nation have reason to suspect otherwise?”

Yes, Zuko’s brain wanted to scream. They have to. Why else would He give me this task?

He remained silent. The Water Tribe Chief waited several moments before speaking again.

“Where were you headed before you ended up here, then?” The way he slurped his soup was starting to get on Zuko’s nerves, especially because he was so hungry. It felt like a test, though, with the chief eating in front of him and trying to get him to join.

“The Southern Air Temple,” Zuko admitted, adjusting his legs underneath himself.

“The Fire Lord must not know you’re here, then. I will send a letter to him so he can come and collect you.” The chief narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, like he already knew what Zuko would say next. He felt a little sick at the look of suspicious disbelief on his face.

—

“I’m not sure he would do that. I’m on a mission, there isn’t a reason for me to return home. If you just let me go, I’ll take the supplies I came with and continue my mission.”

The concept of the prince having been on a mission in the state that they found him in was ridiculous. He was sick with fever from a burn the Fire Lord himself had likely given him, why would he be on a mission in that state? 

Hakoda chose not to comment on this strange explanation. He feared he wouldn’t like the answer.

“I’m not sure if Hahona would take too well to the idea of you continuing your mission quite yet,” He said instead.

The prince visibly hesitated. “Hahona?” He muttered.

“Hahona has been your caregiver during the time you’ve been here, Prince Zuko. He’s advised that you should be on bed rest for a little while longer.” In fact, Hahona had advised that the prince might not be well enough for interrogations, but Hakoda had chosen to ignore that piece of advice.

“I feel fine,” Zuko protested. Hakoda looked down at the untouched bowl of stew.

“Eat first, and then we’ll discuss this further.”

—

Far away from the nosy ears of a small firebender, Hakoda conferred with Bato.

“I think a ransom is out of the question, Bato. Anything we could ask for would be too high of a price for the heir to Fire Lord Ozai’s throne, from the sound of it.”

”What makes you think that?” Bato questioned.

“The Fire Lord sent him out on a mission in that state, with no way to take care of the injury,” Hakoda rubbed at his forehead. “If that isn’t a death sentence…”

Bato stared resolutely at Hakoda for long enough that Hakoda might have thought he was broken. He ended it with  deep sigh.

“We can’t kill him,” Bato muttered. It was certainly not what Hakoda had been expecting, though it brought him relief to hear.

“I agree.” He nodded.

“Murdering the Fire Nation Prince wouldn’t be a great way to start our expedition.” The reasoning wasn’t very strong for a man who thought everything through methodically. The Fire Lord had no idea where the prince was, as well as no apparent intentions of finding him anytime soon. 

“We’ll let him leave once Hahona says he is strong enough to go, then.”

Bato made no argument.

— 

Zuko was left alone, without the chief, his second-in-command, or the man who had been caring for Zuko. 

The bowl of stew sat in front of him, steaming and smelling delicious. 

It had to be a test— or poison.

If Zuko ate the stew, the chief would view him as weak and gullible. If he didn’t take the stew, the chief would view him as uncompromising and vengeful. 

Zuko would not participate in these stupid mind games. If they wouldn’t just kill him or let him leave, Zuko would take matters into his own hands.

—

“Prince Zuko,” Hakoda said as he entered the igloo. “We have come to a decision to—”

The igloo was empty as his eyes swept across the room. The stew sat, still steaming, where he had left it.

 Heart flying up to his throat, he turned to alert Bato, but he was already headed towards him, a shadow of an amused grin on his face. 

“Your firebender has made his own decision,” Bato called out, looking to be in awe of the entire situation. “He’s sailing away. Even had the decency to take his own sailboat instead of one of ours.”

They made their way down to the shore to watch the prideful Fire Nation royalty row away wearing only the pants he had arrived in.

Good riddance, Hakoda thought. One less thing to worry about.

—

The Water Tribe had been kind— or stupid — enough to leave Zuko’s supplies in his boat, though his shirt and shoes were nowhere to be found in the caretaker’s igloo, nor in the boat. As long as the sun remained in the sky, Zuko could keep himself somewhat warm. Warm enough to survive at least, but not warm enough to keep his teeth from chattering. It was a good thing he escaped during the daytime.

He rowed his way out to the open water, watching as the village faded away. Not one boat came after him from the Water Tribe, and the adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins all morning drifted away.

He took some food from his ration pack that wasn’t a test, and allowed himself a moment of peace to look out over the white expanse all around him and eat. 

The universe, of course, did not believe that Prince Zuko deserved even the smallest moments of peace.

The sun had been rising higher and higher in the sky as he rowed, so at first he simply thought what he saw was a reflection of the sun in the water. However, even with his one good eye, he still felt like something was… off about it. The light drifted in the water in the way a reflection wouldn’t, and it wasn’t as bright as it should be at the high point of the day. Tentatively, with a glance thrown over his shoulder to ensure he was still not being followed, he stood and used the butt of his oar to poke at the orb in the water.. 

It moved. 

Just a slight shift, when he nudged it with the oar, and his brain simply couldn’t comprehend what he was looking at. He poked it once more.

This time, the light crept up out of the water, slowly levitating higher and higher and higher until the face of something with rows and rows of teeth met him eye to eye.

Then, with its massive snout, it nudged him back. 

The boat swayed with the force of it, almost sending Zuko toppling out. He resolutely did not scream, but his chest heaved with the weight of the fear dropped down onto it. Instead, he slowly retracted his oar back into the boat, sat back down, and let out a shaky breath just as his boat was nudged again.

“Fuck,” He said, and began to row desperately back to shore.

—

Anik ran up to the chief, breathless, for the second time in a week. He simply could not believe his eyes. 

He had heard the news quickly spreading through the village of a firebender being in Hahona’s igloo, and he had been sitting in his usual place on the top of the barrier closest to the ocean when he saw the Fire Nation sailboat rowing away. He watched it go, and continued to whittle away at the soft bone in his hands. 

He made quick work of the otterpenguin he was carving, almost finished with the new addition to his collection just as he spotted a speck out on the water. Blinking once, twice, three times, he discovered that it’s shape did not change from what he suspected it was— 

That very same Fire Nation sailboat from earlier.

“Chief,” He panted. His lungs burned from all the running. “The Fire Nation sailboat is back.”

“Back?” Hakoda stared at him, expression unreadable. “Are there more boats with it?”

“No,” Anik shook his head. “But— But I think it’s being followed by an anglerwhale, Chief.”

—

Bato stood next to Hakoda on the shore, watching a young boy desperately paddling towards them.

“Tui and La,” Bato had a hand over his brow to block the sun. “The kid’s managed to piss off an anglerwhale, of all things.”

Hakoda let out a sigh so heavy that Bato almost felt a little bad for him.

—

The chief and his second-in-command were waiting on the shore for Zuko when he arrived. 

Zuko flopped out of the boat, wading the final few feet through the water until he was back on the shore, teeth violently chattering.

“We’ve been expecting you, Your Highness,” The Chief said. He tossed a fur coat over Zuko’s shoulders. “Why don’t we get you back into Hahona’s igloo before you get another fever?”

—

“Do you naturally annoy everything that comes into contact with you?” Bato asked, face devoid of any expression in the way it only was when he was truly frustrated.

“It was trying to eat me!” The prince protested. Unlike Bato, every emotion he felt was clearly shown on his face.

“It was not trying to eat you,” Bato explained. Slowly, like he was talking to a child. It took Hakoda a moment to remember that he was. “Anglerwhales don’t eat people.” 

“They just… keep us out of their territory, I suppose,” Hakoda added.

“You’ve brought an anglerwhale to our shore,” Bato said, disbelieving. “No one will be able to leave for months, unless we want our ships battered to pieces.”

The young prince seemed taken aback by this information.

“I wasn’t trying to bring it back here,” He snapped. “I didn’t even know what it was. You Water Tribe people have way too many fu— messed up animals living in your territory!”

Then, when everyone went quiet too long for his liking, “What will you do?”

“We’ll have to postpone the departure we had planned,” Hakoda answered, but he was mostly speaking to Bato. “And we’ll need to speak with the tribe. Everyone, by now, has heard about the firebender. They were starting to get worried after last night.”

Bato sighed. “I’ll call a meeting.”

—

They would kill him. He was certain of it. 

He admitted to being Fire Nation royalty, admitted to his father not knowing he was there, and had no ability to escape. A giant animal was lurking out there waiting for him to return so it could eat him, despite what Bato had said. The people of the tribe had nothing they could do other than kill him. He almost couldn’t blame them.

They hadn’t even posted a guard in the room with him, because they knew he could do nothing to escape his fate.

That didn’t mean he had to take it lying down.

When the caretaker’s back was turned, Zuko ran, stumbling his way over slippery ice and heavy snow. It was bright outside, anyone could see him and chase after him. But he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Without a chase, at least.

He threw a glance over his shoulder, but only saw Hahona calmly watching him go. He looked tired in a way that almost made Zuko feel a little guilty.

—

Hahona watched the boy run. He ran towards the shore, away from the village, in the direction of an area with no people and no escape routes. 

“He’ll come back,” Hahona said, entirely to himself. He looked out over the sliver of the ocean he could see. “La, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you think it’s his destiny to be here.”

—

Zuko found himself skidding past empty tents and silent igloos. It seemed every person had abandoned their home to go to the tribe meeting that he could only assume was taking place in the central igloo that stood out like a sore thumb. He ran straight out of the front entrance of their small village, to the shore, where he stopped short.

In front of him, a tribe member sat on the ground, wistfully staring out at the water. At the sound of Zuko’s rapid footsteps and heavy panting, he turned around.

“You’re supposed to be in Hahona’s igloo,” The tribe member said. He was a boy, about Zuko’s age, from the look of it. He seemed a mix of apprehensive and intrigued by Zuko’s presence. “Dad won’t be very happy to find you out.”

“Do I know you?” Zuko asked, rather than asking who Dad was. The people of the Water Tribe all had similar skin tones and eye color, but the resemblance of this boy to the Chief was striking. 

“I guess not,” The boy answered. “I’m Sokka.”

“Shouldn’t you be at the meeting?” At this, Sokka looked morose. He shrugged, heaving a big sigh and returning his gaze to the water.

“I’m grounded,” Then, seeming suddenly impassioned, he turned back to set his icy glare on Zuko. “It’s your fault, too.”

Zuko was baffled. “What? I’ve never even met you before!”

This was stupid. He should keep running, keep going until he was far enough away to freeze to death on his own terms, not die by the brutal hand of Water Tribe peasants.

“Yeah, but— but…” Sokka glared at him half-heartedly. “Never mind.” Zuko watched as Sokka took him in— the oversized coat and poorly laced boots, feet pointed in the other direction and a clear tremor in his legs just waiting for the right time to leave the conversation. “Where are you going anyway?” He asked.

Zuko hesitated. He could just leave. The boy was unarmed.

“Away,” Zuko answered, motioning in the direction of pure white nothingness. “Wherever I can go.”

“You’ll freeze to death out there,” Sokka said matter-of-factly.

“It’s better than being executed by the Chief.” Zuko crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve heard it’s… quite pleasant, freezing to death.”

“You’re trying to freeze to death?” Sokka gaped at him. Then, he shook his head clear of that train of thought. “Dad isn’t going to kill you, by the way. He wouldn’t do that.” He stuck out his chest proudly, like it wasn’t cowardly to not kill an enemy. 

Zuko supposed he had little room to speak on that subject. He hadn’t tried to kill anyone here. In fact, he was trying to run away. Zuko huffed angrily.

“How do you know?” He snapped.

“I just know,” Sokka snapped back, glaring in a goading way. Something moved out on the water, and Sokka’s gaze snapped back to it. 

It was the anglerwhale’s light moving slowly in the distance.

“Do you think that’s an anglerwhale?” Sokka whispered, wide-eyed. Zuko nodded and Sokka turned his full attention back to him. 

“It is,” Zuko confirmed. 

“How do you know for sure?” 

“I, uh, kind of brought it here,” It occurred to Zuko that that wasn’t really good news. “Sorry,” He tacked on, stupidly. 

“You brought it here?” Sokka shouted, much, much too loud for Zuko’s liking. He wasn’t exactly trying to draw attention to himself. Sokka’s yelling wasn’t angry, though. In fact, he looked excited.

“Uh, yes?” Zuko stared at him. Sokka jumped up off the ground and threw his arms around Zuko in a hug. 

“You’re the best!” Zuko didn’t know what to do with his arms, so he just stood there and waited for the hug to be over.

“What?” He grumbled.

“My dad was planning on sailing out in a couple of weeks. Now, with that anglerwhale hanging out there, he’s going to be stuck here for at least a few more months. This is the best. It’ll give me time to prove to him that I’m a man and that I can be a warrior.” Sokka was practically vibrating while he held Zuko. He released him from his grip and fell in one swift movement back into his place on the ice. 

“You’re… welcome?” Zuko said, still standing. Sokka patted the space next to him.

“Sit.” Sokka continued watching the anglerwhale. 

Zuko, inexplicably, sat.

“What’s your name?” Sokka placed his chin in the palm of one hand, sneaking a peek at him through a very not-subtle side glance. 

“Zuko.” He feigned relaxation carefully, though his back remained rigid.

Zuko felt nervous at the idea of talking to Sokka. When he was little, he’d only ever hung out with Azula’s friends, Mai and Ty Lee. He’d never had any friends of his own, and he’d certainly never had any boys to play with. It had been a long time since he’d spent more than a few moments in the presence of another boy his age. 

—

The Fire Nation boy was certainly strange, and very, very quiet. Except for when he was snappy. Then he got loud, almost as loud as Sokka. For some reason, it wasn’t all that scary when he did raise his voice. If anything, it was amusing. 

The bandage still covered his eye. Sokka wondered what might be underneath it. He’d heard Hahona mention a burn, but that didn’t make much sense to Sokka. He couldn’t imagine a world in which a firebender would get burnt. Perhaps it was some accident. If Katara could firebend, Sokka would probably have gotten burnt by accident from time to time.

“Dad said you’re a firebender,” Sokka said conversationally. He was trying to pretend that he wasn’t wildly interested in the other boy's story.

Zuko stared at him like it was a trap. He sat like a person who had never learned to relax a day in their life. It made even Sokka feel uncomfortable.

“Yes,” Zuko admitted at last. 

“That’s so cool!” Sokka gushed. Then, with a bit of self-preservation, added, “I mean, as long as you don’t burn me or anything.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, Sokka could tell that much from watching him out of his periphery. 

“Will you give me a reason to?” He sniped. Sokka felt like he was all bark and no bite, but there was no such thing as being too careful with a firebender.

“I won’t,” He put on his best intimidating scowl. It seemed like the thing to do. “As long as you don’t give me a reason to use my boomerang on you.”

“Boomerang?” Zuko looked downright unimpressed. Sokka couldn’t wait to change that.

“I’ll show you!” He shouted. “Just wait here, okay?”

Zuko waited.

—

Hakoda was getting a headache. Scratch that, a migraine. 

Every member of the tribe had been well aware that a firebender was stowed away in their village after the events of the night prior. He had originally hoped to inform them that the firebender had since left, and that everything would be back to normal.

But no. The firebender had to return, with an anglerwhale following him, and create absolute chaos.

The entire tribe had been upset at the news that a firebender had been hidden away just under their noses. They were even more upset when Hakoda informed them that the firebender would be with them indefinitely. Hakoda chose to not explain that the anglerwhale had been brought to their side of the ocean by the firebender.

“Can’t we just kill him?” One had asked. 

“He’s a child,” Hakoda explained. Everyone fell silent for quite some time after that.

“A firebending child,” Another piped up. Several heads nodded in agreement.

In the very back of the room, Hakoda could see Kai. He was a small child, boisterous but easily frightened, willing to go along with all of Sokka’s quirky ideas. The boy was scanning the room, watching the reactions of each individual tribe member.

Hakoda remembered the fear on his face when he was in Hahona’s igloo. But he also remembered the fear on the firebender’s face, mirroring Kai perfectly. 

Next to him was Anik, both were sixteen. Anik, on the other hand, was quite the opposite of Kai. Quiet and soft-spoken, artistic and reserved, but headstrong in the face of fear. His moral code was rigid and unrelenting.

“He’s a child, nonetheless,” Anik said, voice just barely audible above the constant, quiet chatter. His older sister, Otka, rested a hand on his shoulder approvingly. “We aren’t the savages that the Fire Nation makes us out to be, or are we?”

“That’s not fair,” Kai cleared his throat. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “The only reason they haven’t killed us all yet is because they don’t see us as a threat.”

“This boy is not a soldier,” Hakoda interrupted. The fact that he was the Fire Nation Prince did not need to be known quite yet. “He is just a child with an ability that has been used against us in the past.”

“Has he used his ability against anyone since he’s been here?” One of the men, Kiwa, questioned. 

“No,” Bato answered immediately. Though he might disagree with Hakoda’s decisions, there was a reason he was his second-in-command— he would always have his back. “Hahona has been keeping an eye on the boy, as well as the chief and myself. He hasn’t summoned fire once.”

Everyone in the room fell silent to ponder this information.

“We will keep him as a pseudo-prisoner. He will work, doing tasks only while he’s monitored—”

“We’re allowing him to work with us?” Someone shouted. The noise in the room hit an all-time high.

—

When it came down to it, the tribe was in regretful agreement. They respected Hakoda’s judgment, even if it seemed half of them thought he had gone mad.

He wanted nothing more than to retire into his bed for the rest of the day, but Katara had told him, after adorably pouting about how she was not talking to him, that Sokka was out pouting, likely equally as adorably, by the shore. Those kids really had no idea how endearing their anger was, did they?

When Hakoda got to the shore, he was surprised to find his son not pouting, but instead chatting enthusiastically with the Fire Prince.

It was not a sight Hakoda would have ever expected himself to stumble upon in a hundred years, but he stayed there, watching the boys speak with one another for several moments.

The prince held himself tall, but he didn’t try to intimidate Sokka. He sat patiently, running his hands over the boy’s boomerang with mild interest. Hakoda could hear every word out of Sokka’s mouth, but Zuko spoke too quietly for him to hear. It was a stark contrast to how mouthy he had been in conversations with Bato and Hakoda.

“Boys,” He called as he made his way closer to them.

Two heads snapped up, and Hakoda was shocked to find himself leveled with two, quite identical glares.

“I’m not talking to you,” Sokka griped, crossing arms over his chest and turning away. 

The prince faltered, leaning a smidge closer to Sokka and whispering, “You just did.”

“Well,” Sokka stammered. “I’m not talking to you starting now.”

“Sokka,” Hakoda began, “You directly disobeyed me.”

“I’m a man!” Sokka protested. “Men are to be present at the tribe meetings!”

“Men don’t get grounded,” Hakoda countered, smirking only a little when the glare slipped off of Sokka’s face. He switched his gaze to Zuko. “You were supposed to be waiting in Hahona’s igloo.”

“Waiting for you to execute me?” Zuko answered. He wasn’t glaring at Hakoda anymore, gaze now pointed out towards the horizon in a child’s portrayal of diplomacy.

“I told you, he won’t kill you,” Sokka said in a hushed tone. Hakoda was taken aback and a little ashamed by the immediate trust. He didn’t want to admit that the topic of killing Zuko had been constantly discussed since the moment his hull hit their shore.

“Sokka, go back to your sister, please.”

Sokka stopped looking intently at the side of Zuko’s face to glare at Hakoda once more before stalking off towards the village.

—

Zuko did not want to be alone with the chief. Not this close to a body of water, at least. Not with a dagger holstered to his hip. 

Warily, he eyed the anglerwhale’s light. Bato had said they weren’t interested in eating people. Maybe he could outswim the chief.

“Sokka’s right, you know,” Chief Hakoda raised an eyebrow at him, then sat down next to him. “We’re not going to kill you.”

“Why not?” Zuko asked, feeling anger flare up in his chest over just how stupid these Water Tribe peasants could be. “If one of yours had washed up on the Fire Nation shores we would have killed them instantly.”

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Father would have punished him for not being able to hold his tongue. He’d never been very good at that. It’s how he ended up with the throbbing burn on his face.

“We do things a little differently around here.” The chief’s face was serious. “We don’t go around killing children even if they are from enemy land.”

—

“I’m not a child,” Zuko scoffed. “I’m a prince.”

Hakoda was impressed at the child’s insistance on talking himself into being murdered out of pure pride. 

“A child and a prince,” Hakoda corrected, watching the line of Zuko’s neck grow more and more tense.

“If you’re not going to murder me,” He sniped, “then what will you do with me?”

The question was fueled by anger, but was undercut by the real fear in his voice. Hakoda could imagine the options running through Zuko’s mind— keeping him locked up somewhere without food or water, depriving him of sleep, breaking his fingers.

“Put you to work.” The prince, if possible, grew even more tense. “Under a close eye, of course. Everyone does their part here.”

The boy had been looking out at the water for quite some time now, refusing to make real eye contact with Hakoda.

“You’re letting me roam freely in your village,” Zuko said, turning to stare blankly at him.

“Not freely, under supervision,” Hakoda corrected. Zuko paused. His eyes searched Hakoda’s.

“Do you frequently lead your people into danger?” Hakoda raised an eyebrow at this.

“Am I leading my people into danger?” He countered.

Golden eyes narrowed. Hakoda met them with as much neutrality as he could. After several moments, the gaze shifted to something softer, relenting.

“No,” The prince’s words sounded final. “It would be honorless to hurt someone who did not intend to do me harm.”

Maybe the Fire Nation did have morals after all.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement, then.”

—

In Ba Sing Se, a man opened a tea shop. It wasn’t particularly popular, but it didn’t need to be.

“I am looking for my nephew,” The shop owner would tell everyone who came in. “Our village was attacked by the Fire Nation and we became separated.”

On the days where the shop owner was feeling particularly despondent, he would add—

“I wish I could have protected him better. I miss him very much.”

Chapter Text

The prince of the Fire Nation stared down at the second bowl of stew brought to him like it had personally offended him. It was the way the prince looked at pretty much anything, from the few moments Hahona had spent with him. The more important issue was that he was still not eating it.

“No one poisoned it,” Hahona said, tiredly. 

“Were you there when it was made?” Zuko snapped. He was cross-legged on the floor, watching the steam flow freely from the bowl. There was no doubt he was hungry. Hakoda had delivered him to Hahona and insisted that it was of the utmost importance that he eat right away. It seemed, though, that the boy was trying to make it into a third day of his fasting.

“No,” Hahona sighed. Zuko looked smug at the answer, though his expression remained mostly angry. He looked angry all of the time, even when he had been incapacitated. 

Hahona had only witnessed one other emotion displayed on his face, and he found that he actually preferred the anger.

“What would get you to eat?” The question was one of genuine exasperation. 

Zuko’s golden eyes went wide and his anger slipped from his face for a blessed moment. He took a while to answer, but not because he didn’t know the answer already. It was because he was clearly shocked that Hahona wanted him to eat badly enough that he was willing to adjust the circumstances in which he was presented with food.

“I want to be there when it is made,” Zuko replied once the confusion had passed. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hahona answered. Whatever he needed to do to get him to eat would be done.

Bato could not keep himself from thinking about how badly assimlating a royal firebender into their tribe could go. The sight of those golden eyes was still very bizarre for Bato to see when surrounded by the snow of his home. It brought back dark memories of the Fire Nation raid, Kya’s death, Katara and Sokka’s unforgettable wailing. 

Hakoda had warned him not to attach those memories to a child who was barely even sentient when they had occurred. It felt impossible not to do that, with him being the son of the person who was responsible for the hateful actions of the Fire Nation. It was in this boy’s blood to be vile.

Hakoda had briefly explained his reasoning for believing the burn on Zuko’s face came from Fire Lord Ozai. Bato felt a little ashamed that his first reaction was not disgust, but some twisted sense of satisfaction. Fire Nation royalty deserved any and all suffering that came their way. Bato was not sure if whatever Hakoda had seen that night had given him sympathy, or if he was simply a more forgiving person than Bato.  

With all that Bato knew about Hakoda, he was leaning towards the latter.

“Yes?” Hakoda implored when Hahona entered their tent with a petulantly prideful prince by his side. 

“Go on,” Said Hahona, giving a nudge to the prince. Bato would consider that a very dangerous move, but the prince simply rolled his eyes at the elbow to his side.

“I will not eat unless I see the food being prepared for me,” He said, pompous as ever. Bato hated the way he carried himself, back rigid and voice loud. 

Hakoda exchanged a vexed look with Bato, a familiar expression. The same kind of expression he wore when Sokka would appear out of thin air with a new bump on his head.

“You have not eaten in the two days we’ve had you here.” Hakoda looked like he was fighting an urge to rub his temples. “You fainted this morning from lack of food.” The boy glanced at Bato, like he had been betrayed by this fainting spell being mentioned in front of him.

“Chief,” Hahona stepped in awkwardly, looking like he very much did not want to be any part of this. “I have no doubts that this boy would starve himself while sitting in front of a feast.”

Bato would not think this would be something to be prideful of, but if anything, the prince’s back straightened even more. A shadow of a smirk rested on his lips.

“You cannot expect to have a personal chef,” Bato scoffed. 

“Bato is right,” Hakoda began, before Zuko cut him off.

“Then you leave me no choice,” He answered, turning on his heel to leave. Hahona looked utterly exasperated.

“You did not let me finish.” Hakoda’s voice took on the authoritative edge that he used in tribe meetings. The prince looked back at him, caught awkwardly between walking away indignantly and letting his hungry interest take over. “Bato is right, however, I will not let you starve yourself out of spite, or pride, or whatever this is. You can cook your own meal if you won’t eat what we prepare for you.”

There were several moments of silence. Zuko did not seem to know what to do with this outcome, Hahona looked like he was awaiting a princely outburst, and Bato’s mind was already racing with all the possibilities of how this could go horribly wrong.

“Can you cook?” Hakoda asked, with only a hint of hesitation. 

The prince, who— as Bato was beginning to notice— was terrible at hiding his emotions, showed outrage at the notion of him not knowing how to do something. 

“Of course I know how to cook,” He answered.

The prince did not know how to cook. At least, not in the way any of them were expecting. Instead, he accepted the fish that was given to him, and proceeded to cook it on the plate with just his hands. Hakoda had seen firebending used as a weapon many, many times. He was certain it was a rare experience for anyone outside of the Fire Nation to see the more practical uses for firebending. Hakoda hadn’t even known that firebenders could cook something without fire, by just producing heat that extreme from their hands. It looked like magic, as the boy held the plate steadily in front of him and the fish began to steam. 

Zuko didn’t move a muscle as he cooked the fish. It was evident that he was watching Hakoda from the corner of his eye, waiting for a reaction. 

Hakoda refused to take the bait. He let the boy cook and eat his meal before he chose to say anything at all.

“Don’t forget to clean the plate,” He commented, bracing himself for any anger it provoked. It didn’t, though. Zuko nodded, standing to take his plate to the wash bucket Hakoda had nodded towards, so Hakoda added, with a small smirk— “How do you know we didn’t poison the fish before you cooked it?” 

That comment would inevitably bite Hakoda in the butt, he just didn’t know it at the time.

The inevitable butt biting happened almost immediately, in the form of Zuko demanding not only to cook his own food, but to also catch it. Hahona had advised against any activity for at least a few days, but Zuko refused to eat for a full day before Hakoda finally gave in to his princely demands, loud and rude and stubborn as a… well, as an anglerwhale, ironically. 

There was another child in his life that was equally as stubborn, but she was much more… tactful about it— and there was one child who was good at combating that ruthless stubbornness with the equally stubborn-headed goal of making her laugh.

This was how Hakoda decided that it was Sokka who should teach Prince Zuko the ins and outs of fishing.

Zuko had seemed satisfactorily abhorred at the idea, just enough so that Hakoda knew he was making the correct decision. He might be against physically torturing a child, but emotionally… not so much. Sokka, on the other hand, was strangely quiet when he brought up the idea. Hakoda had overheard him and Kai having minor arguments about Zuko, though his presence in the tribe had been minimal thus far, and Hakoda had suspected it was getting to Sokka. They had all seen the same series of events that night in the igloo, and Hakoda was certain that he and Sokka were feeling very similarly. Hakoda and Bato still both accepted the firebender’s presence very differently, and it often made Hakoda wonder if his feelings on the topic might be illogical. Sokka likely felt the same with Kai. Hakoda could only imagine how Kai would feel about it if he had told the tribe about Zuko’s royal status. It was for the best that this was kept between Bato, Hahona, and himself.

“If you don’t feel safe enough to go,” —Hakoda said, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder— “that’s okay, too.”

But Sokka had shaken the shoulder off, amending that he would be fine, and Hakoda trusted his decision.

The burn was healing nicely, considering the terrible infection that had been festering when Hahona had first laid eyes on it. There was no doubt that it would scar, but at the very least it wouldn’t take the boy's eye, which had been what Hahona had feared. 

“I think you’re good to go without the bandages, kid,” Hahona told him. The boy had been incredibly difficult to talk into taking the bandages off in the first place. It was evident he didn’t trust Hahona with it, but he couldn’t really blame him. It was his biggest vulnerability, with the way it forced one of his eyes to remain shut. Hahona could only imagine the pain he was in, but he adamantly refused any kind of medicine to help with it.

Zuko didn’t answer Hahona’s guidance with anything other than a nod.

“I think you will have full eyesight back once it heals completely,” Hahona tilted his head to the side using a finger on his chin, which the prince batted away and turned his head on his own. “As long as you keep it clean. Which means visiting me once or twice a day so that I can take care of it.”

“I can clean it myself,” Prince Zuko said, narrowing his eyes.

“I don’t think that would be for the best, Your Highness,” Hahona smiled, only half-teasing with the formality. “I’d like you to keep that eye.”

That made the boy's spine go a bit more taut. He didn’t nod, but the apprehensive silence was agreement enough.

“And…” He started, glancing towards the entrance of the igloo. “What about my hearing?”

Hahona paused where he’d been discarding the used bandages.

“What about your hearing?” He countered, giving him his full attention once again. The prince wasn’t looking at him. He was looking off to the side, but somehow managed to make that act alone look less like a child pouting and more like a brooding man. Hahona wondered how much experience he had trying to make people view him as older than he was. If he thought about it too long, it made him a little sad. He’d been spending too much time around Otka lately.

“I haven’t been able to hear… as well.” Hahona stayed quiet as Zuko spoke, as it was clear that one wrong word would completely shut the conversation down. “It’s like I’m listening to everything through water on that side.”

Times like these made Hahona feel very out of his depth as a healer. With Katara being the only waterbender in the tribe, they’d been left with no choice but to do healing the way everyone else did, only they were starting at a massive disadvantage.

Hahona took a deep breath. 

“Only time will tell, Prince Zuko,” He shrugged. “For now, enjoy not having to wear bandages anymore.”

He patted Zuko on the arm once, firmly. It caused him to jump a little, but the biggest flinch came when Bato entered the room. It was clear the prince distrusted the chief’s second-in-command on a visceral level.

Bato, on the other hand, had clearly not been expecting to come face to face with Zuko’s wound today. Hahona had shown it to him once, briefly, but to see it on a child who was now fully awake and living with such an injury invoked a different feeling. 

Bato’s eyes widened, just barely, but it was enough to make the prince turn his face away with a hardened expression. Hahona watched Bato pause, recover from the shock, and straighten his back out— much like the prince, himself. 

“Sokka is ready for your fishing trip,” Bato said, with the air of a man who had been listening to Sokka whine impatiently for far too long.

Sokka wasn’t nervous about fishing with the firebender so much as he was… not sure what to expect. He’d only seen Zuko from a distance since their little chat by the shore, but Sokka couldn’t find it in himself to view him as intimidating as Kai seemed to think he was. If anything, he was just… awkward. 

Nonetheless, Kai made Sokka feel like he was missing something. Kai wasn’t being a jerk about it by any means, but it was clear he simply didn’t understand how Sokka could be so nonchalant about the whole thing. 

Sokka had decided he would hold himself back from talking as much, as a— tactic, of sorts. A way to get the boy to reveal more about himself and Sokka to reveal less.

Sokka totally had the willpower to do that.

Zuko was worried that his ears might start to bleed if he had to spend one more moment trapped on a boat with the chief’s son. The boy talked so much and so nonsensically that Zuko almost couldn’t fathom him being the heir of a leader. If he’d acted like that, his own father would’ve—

Sokka gave him a once-over as the force of his flinch gently rocked the boat.

This was stupid. Zuko didn’t really want to be out here, but he wasn’t going to let the chief win. Every time Zuko thought he was safe, the man started playing mind games with him, waiting for Zuko to finally give up and eat potentially poisoned food just so he could lord his win over him. 

Zuko would catch his own fish and cook his own meals for the rest of his life if it was what it took to prove to this chief that he was not weak, that the Fire Nation was not weak. 

“You’re doing that thing again,” Sokka said, having the audacity to reach over and flick him on the forehead.

(“He could hurt Sokka while they’re out there together, alone,” The chief’s second-in-command had said. Those two were prone to mumbling to each other well within earshot of Zuko.

“It won’t be that dangerous,” The chief had mused. “It’s fishing, Bato. He can just tip the boat if the boy starts acting strange.”)

Zuko glared at the boy across from him, but he felt no urge to hurt him. He had no idea why the second-in-command even thought he would do such a thing when he was trapped with them, with nowhere to go. That would surely get him executed. 

“I’m not doing anything,” He answered, resolutely not crossing his arms over his chest. Whenever he cried over Azula’s taunting when he was little, he’d cross his arms over his chest like that, and it would only make her shrieking laughter grow louder. 

The heavy fur coat they’d put him in restricted most of his movement, anyway, and made him look absolutely ridiculous. It was mortifying, being dressed in blue Water Tribe clothing and a coat that was at least ten sizes too big.

“Are too,” Sokka poked at his knee, this time. “You’re making that constipated face.”

“I am not—” Zuko scoffed, fighting to maintain his composure. “The only face I am making is an annoyed one, because you’re being annoying.” 

With that, he glared harder at Sokka, waiting for his rebuttal. Sokka just rolled his eyes though, looking bored.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that to hurt my feelings, y’know. I’ve got a little sister.”

Zuko huffed a laugh at that, because that was probably the one thing he could relate to with a Water Tribe peasant. It proved to be a mistake, though, because he suddenly had that same look that the chief sometimes did— the look that said they’d thought they’d won. Zuko immediately schooled his expression back into one of indifferent annoyance.

“Oh come on!” Sokka griped, exasperatedly resting his face in his palm. “Just talk to me, jerkbender.”

Zuko didn’t comment on the taunting nickname, only glared harder.

“C’mon, that was a laugh of commiseration. You have a younger sibling right? Or maybe an older one?” It was bizarre for someone to be so plainly interested in asking questions about Zuko. Most of his time growing up had been spent around his family— who weren’t really the “How was your day?” type— and servants, who wouldn’t be caught dead asking a member of the royal family personal questions.

Zuko wasn’t sure if he’d ever really had anyone talk to him in such a way. He wasn’t sure what to do with it. 

“I have a little sister, too,” He answered, trying his best not to sound as unsure as he felt. 

“Really?” Sokka’s grin spread warmly across his face. Zuko felt himself flush in a mix of embarrassment and pride. It seemed this boy had the ability to be excited about anything. “What’s she like? I bet you miss her. I’d be so sad if Katara and I were separated.”

Zuko mentally inspected this concept for a few, careful moments. There weren’t many members of his family that he missed. Azula wasn’t one of them, though he did miss when they were really small and would play together, even if the playing always ended in him somehow getting hurt. He missed Uncle Iroh, even though it had been a long time since he’d seen him. He gave warm hugs and would occasionally sit with Zuko by the turtleduck pond. 

He missed Lu Ten and his mother, but it wasn’t the kind that Sokka meant. It was the kind that cut you open and made your chest ache. The kind of missing that made Zuko want to forget he’d ever known them at all.

“She’s… strong. A good firebender.” Zuko settled on saying, when it became clear that every other way to describe her felt… strange. 

Sokka wrinkled up his nose at this description, but he didn’t comment on it. 

“What about you? Are you a good firebender?”

Zuko shrugged. “Not as good as she is.” It was a fact he was ashamed of, but a fact nonetheless. Azula was always far more talented than him despite being two years younger. It wasn’t even a small skill difference, she was incredible, and Zuko was— “My swordsmanship is better than my firebending.”

Sokka’s mouth fell open. “Swords?” The boat shook slightly as Sokka leaned forward. “You have swords?”

“Well I don’t— I didn’t bring them with me. But yes, I do.”

“Why wouldn’t you bring them with you?” Sokka all but shouted. I didn’t exactly have a choice, Zuko wanted to say.

“Not enough room,” He answered. 

“It was a sailboat that you came here with, right? Why didn’t you just take a bigger ship?” 

Zuko tried to think of an answer to that. He hadn’t had much time to think about the circumstances under which he was banished— being assigned a complicated task and sent away without money or weapons.

“I needed to be inconspicuous.” It was the only reason he could come up with.

“Why would you need to be inconspicuous?”

Zuko was ready to pull his hair out. He wasn’t sure what the boy knew about him, but it was clear the chief hadn’t told him much.

 “Are we going to catch fish at some point?” Zuko attempted to change the subject.

“Do you see any fish to catch?” Sokka motioned to the water around them. He hadn’t really been looking too hard, mostly focused on breathing slowly so he didn’t set the boat on fire due to Sokka’s constant chatter. “It would be a lot easier to catch fish if someone hadn’t brought an anglerwhale over here and forced us to fish in this channel instead of the open water.”

Zuko leaned over the boat’s edge to look into the water and immediately regretted it. The reflection that looked back at him was terrifying. If he was being honest, he had been hoping to never have to look upon himself again without the bandages on, or at least for the indefinite future, with the apparent lack of mirrors in the Southern Water Tribe. He hadn’t accounted for the surface of the water, though, and the ugly truth was gazing back at him.

The burn was terrible, covering his entire eye and stretching back onto his scalp. He’d known that they’d shaved his hair down to only a Phoenix tail when he’d been incoherent with pain, but seeing it now made him feel even more shamed by the loss of the traditional hairstyle worn by a prince. It made for a horrifically stark contrast with the angry red of his burn, which was scabbed over in a way that forced his eye to remain closed. He was genuinely surprised that Sokka hadn’t shown a hint of a reaction when he’d seen Zuko with the bandage off. It made him wonder if the chief had explained to his son how monstrous Zuko actually looked underneath it all. 

His face was gone. It felt like he was looking at a stranger. He desperately wanted to hide.

“Does it hurt?” Sokka asked quietly. Zuko wasn’t sure if he’d been watching his entire meltdown or not, but he realized with deep mortification that a tear had rolled down his cheek from his good eye. 

He didn’t know what to say to that. Confirming it was humiliating and denying it would be the most obvious lie anyone had ever told. 

“It—” He started, but Sokka immediately began shushing him. Zuko was offended at the audacity, but when he looked over at him Sokka was staring into the water, closely watching a school of fish.

“Watch and learn,” He whispered, raising his spear high behind his head. Zuko was, for what it was worth, very interested in learning. He was hungry and determined not to fail.

Sokka looked like a grown man, with his face stoic and arms steady. It was the first time he’d been anything other than completely innocuous and birdbrained. The sun was bright behind him, outlining him in a halo of light. It struck Zuko as a strangely peaceful moment, perhaps the most at ease he’d felt since the—

Zuko’s involuntary movement rocked the boat once more, sending Sokka tumbling into the water face-first. He let out a very unmanly squawk, and Zuko watched the fish all race in different directions to get away. 

After a moment, Sokka’s head popped out of the water. If he’d been a firebender, Zuko was sure the water would be sizzling off of him with the fury he held in his glare.

“Sorry,” Zuko said, but the smug little shit was smirking at him from over the lip of the boat.

“Y’know, I was just beginning to like you, jerkbender,” Sokka griped. He’d been expecting an eye roll in response, or another pouting session, but Zuko’s eyes went wide in something akin to remorse. It went away as fast as it came, but it made Sokka’s belly twist, so he tugged on the edge of the boat and dumped Zuko into the water with him. 

He fell with much less grace than Sokka had, catching his heel on the edge and rolling in backwards from there. When he rose to the surface, his stupid ponytail was stuck to his face in a way that made him look like a drowned snow rat. Sokka couldn’t resist the round of giggles that erupted from him.

Zuko wiped the wet hair off of his face, tossing back over his shoulder behind him.

“You’re insufferable,” He spat. He looked a little shaky, though. One of his hands rose out of the water to hover loosely over his uncovered burn, wanting to touch but deciding against it. Oh, Sokka realized, salt water. 

Zuko’s large coat billowed out around him. It was clear the additional weight of the fur was causing him to struggle with treading water.

“Come on.” Sokka tugged his coat off and tossed it into the boat.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Zuko complained, but he was too busy following Sokka’s lead to make it sound like a real accusation. 

“If I was trying to kill you, you’d know.” Sokka steadily climbed back into the boat. It wasn’t his first time getting tipped out of a boat. He’d been fishing with Katara before. “Grab on.”

Zuko, who’d looked like he was worried he’d be left treading water, latched onto the hand that Sokka was extending to him. His return to the boat was done with much less grace than Sokka, and watching him flop onto their wet coats at the bottom of the boat was quite entertaining.

“Thank you,” Zuko said, like Sokka hadn’t been the one who tossed him into the water in the first place.

He was very strange, and not at all like the firebenders that had existed in Sokka’s imagination and memory. Sokka had observed some of the interactions Zuko had with his dad and Bato since waking up, and he noticed that, while he held himself tall and proud around them, it looked like he was almost making an effort to appear smaller around Sokka. It wasn’t something he could put his finger on, exactly, but he would let his shoulders round rather than squaring them, his voice would be quieter, even when he was snapping at Sokka. It made Sokka feel like he was afraid of him, which just didn’t make any sense. No one had ever been afraid of Sokka, and it made him kind of sad. 

Never mind the fact that maybe he should hate this guy a little bit more, considering his nationality, like Kai did. It just seemed silly to hate someone who never really seemed interested in causing him harm beyond the occasionally snarky comment. 

“We should get you back to Hahona before I get in trouble for bringing an ice cube back with me,” Sokka flashed a wry grin at him, but Zuko seemed more worried over the idea of getting in trouble. Probably still concerned about getting offed by Sokka’s dad. 

He contemplated insisting once more that Dad really wasn’t going to kill him when he noticed something peculiar. It almost looked like the boy in front of him was smoking, but that couldn’t be right—

“Hey! Are you drying yourself?” Sokka squawked, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. 

“It’s not dangerous!” Zuko snapped, having the decency to look like he’d been caught red-handed. “It doesn’t hurt anyone, and it keeps me from getting hypothermia because someone threw me in the water.”

“What about me? I could get hypothermia too!” Sokka shivered violently to emphasize his point. “Can you dry me?” He wasn’t sure if it was possible, but Zuko’s reluctant expression told him it was. Sokka tried to make his eyes as big and adorable as he could manage. 

Zuko tried to look annoyed, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. Very few people could resist Sokka’s puppy dog eyes. 

Finally, with a dramatic eye roll, he reached forward and snatched Sokka’s sleeve.

“Don’t tell the chief,” He ordered.

“Don’t burn me,” Sokka ordered back, but Zuko just rolled his eyes once more.

Sokka did feel somewhat apprehensive about letting a firebender firebend while touching him, but no fire was required for this neat trick. Zuko just held his sleeve gingerly and steam rose out of Sokka’s own clothes while warmth stretched over his skin. It caused him to shiver again.

“That feels amazing,” Sokka sighed. Zuko’s cheeks went pink. “Don’t tell anyone else about this. They’ll make you do it all the time.”

“They can’t make me do anything,” Zuko muttered, the very idea offensive. Sokka was learning that the Fire Nation was very uptight about perceived insults. 

Zuko leaned forward to dry their coats, too, which they both slid over their shoulders the moment it was safe to do so. It felt like being hugged by a campfire, and Sokka looked over to share a look of bliss with Zuko, but he was—

He was growing worse at hiding the discomforting sting of the saltwater in his gnarly wound, squirming where he sat and gingerly pulling persistent strands of hair away from where they were clinging to the scabs. The burn had caught Sokka off guard, when he’d first seen it. He’d been expecting it, eventually, but when he’d seen it, he was struck by how much it must have hurt when it happened. When Sokka thought about it, he wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough to go fishing with such a painful wound while it was still healing. Dad had explained that it was Zuko’s choice to go fishing, but Sokka couldn’t fathom why. 

“Alright, now let’s get going.” Sokka picked up the oars to start rowing, and watched as Zuko followed suit.

Hahona was not at all enthused when he saw the pair of boys arrive at his igloo.

“It seems you bring bad luck to any boat you’re on,” He said after Sokka’s explanation of what happened, pointedly talking to Zuko. Sokka didn’t really get the joke, though. He’d been instructed not to ask Zuko too many personal questions, but he hated feeling out of the loop. 

Zuko clearly understood the joke though, and he didn’t think it was very funny.

Hahona looked far too pleased with the annoyance on his face as he busied himself with pulling medical supplies from every corner of the room.

“It’s Sokka’s fault I even ended up in the water,” Zuko said, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Hey, it was not!— Well, yeah I guess it kinda was,” Sokka said, growing a bit sheepish.

Hahona reached over and flicked him on the forehead.

“Ow!” Sokka reached up to rub the sore spot. “What was that for?”

“That was for endangering my patient,” Hahona wagged a finger at him. “La knows how he survived. Do they even have water in the Fire Nation?”

“Of course we have water in the Fire Nation!” Zuko practically bellowed. To his credit, he almost immediately realized he was being teased. He didn’t know what to do with that information, however, cheeks flaring an aggressive red. It was endearing to watch him struggle with how to recover from his outburst. 

“He only survived thanks to my heroic actions,” Sokka said, playing into the joke. “You should’ve seen him, he barely knew how to swim. Looked like an arctic hen in water.”

“I did not!” Zuko protested. “I would’ve been just fine on my own.”

Sokka turned away from Hahona’s amused face to look at Zuko’s reddening cheeks. 

“Do you not understand sarcasm, or do you just choose to ignore it all together?”

Zuko grew even angrier at the allegation that he might not understand something.

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” Zuko declared. Ouch.

“That’s enough of that, Your Highness,” Hahona interrupted, trying to turn Zuko’s face towards him with his fingertips. 

“Your Highness?” Sokka questioned. That meant he was nobility of some kind, not just a soldier or sailor. Which, in retrospect, made a lot of sense.

Hahona seemed caught off guard, though, like he wasn’t sure what he was allowed to say. Zuko watched Hahona, waiting for him to react.

“Enough chatter from the two of you, I’m trying to work,” Hahona replied, and it was probably the most suspicious way he could have answered. Zuko, on the other hand, averted his gaze from Sokka completely. Wow, Sokka had figured nobility would be good at lying. 

Hahona hesitantly prodded at Zuko’s wound, like he thought his fingers might get bitten off. It was probably good to err on the side of caution, with the way Zuko uneasily eyed him. 

It was only when Hahona gave Zuko a jar of salve to apply that Sokka felt like he was intruding. He looked away as subtly as he could while Hahona finished his little checkup and sent them back on their way.

Once outside, Sokka began his interrogation.

“So,” He hummed, nudging at Zuko’s side. “What, exactly, makes you a Highness?” Zuko glanced back towards the igloo, but followed Sokka without question as he started walking. 

“I’m…” He paused. “I’m not sure I’m supposed to say.”

This sounded juicy. This sounded way more interesting than being a firebender or owning swords. 

“Says who?” Sokka raised an eyebrow.

“Your, uh,” Zuko mumbled, “Your dad, actually.”

That drew Sokka short. He stopped walking momentarily. He knew his dad hid things from him from time to time, but it was still weird having it said straight to his face.

How lucky was he to have the worst liar in the world to be the victim of his interrogation?

Sokka made a show of rolling his eyes as he picked up his pace once again.

“I’m his son, the chief’s son. You don’t need to hide it from me,” Sokka grinned smugly. 

Zuko squinted, looking genuinely confused. “Wouldn’t— Wouldn’t he have told you, then?”

Damn. “Fine,” He sighed. “I… won’t tell him you told me?” Sokka tried, the statement coming out like a question. It was true, though he’d almost certainly tell Kai, and maybe Katara, if she didn’t seem like she’d be weird about it.

Zuko still looked confused, like he’d never shared a secret with anyone in his life. Or, for that matter, even heard of a secret.

“Come on,” Sokka groaned. The puppy eyes had worked once before, maybe?—

Zuko looked conflicted. He looked around them slowly, then stood tall in the way Sokka was used to seeing him do around Dad and Bato.

“I’m Prince Zuko, son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai,” He announced, sounding not at all like he was having a conversation with a teenager his own age. Nonetheless, Sokka smiled.

“You’re a prince! That’s so cool!” Sokka shouted. Zuko shot him a warning look.

“Keep your voice down,” He hissed, glancing around warily for his dad or Bato. “You can’t say I told you.”

“Of course I won’t,” Sokka nudged him again right in the ribs. Zuko huffed in response. “You have my word… so long as you promise to answer any and all questions I have about being a prince.”

Sokka waggled his eyebrows hopefully. 

“You didn’t tell me there were terms to this,” Zuko sounded frustrated. Sokka seriously thought he might be the most gullible person in the world.

“I thought you said you had a little sister. There are always terms, Zuko— I mean, Prince Zuko.” He grinned at Zuko goadingly.

“Don’t— start with that,” Zuko groaned, looking around for anyone that might be standing too close. There were tribe members nearby, not within earshot, but close enough to stare at Zuko distrustfully. Zuko turned his gaze away from them. “Where are we headed now, anyway?” He asked, seeming to just notice that he’d been mindlessly following Sokka.

“To get some lunch,” Sokka answered. “We have to eat, and we didn’t even catch anything today!”

Zuko’s only sign of hesitation was a slight pause in his next step, which Sokka mended by throwing an arm over his shoulder.

Katara had known her brother was out fishing with the firebender, and she definitely wasn't happy about it, but she wasn’t expecting to have to come face to face with the firebender for the first time over lunch. She had started a small fire with Anik and Kai who were showing off everything they had caught that morning when Sokka strolled up with their guest by his side like it was no big deal.

Sokka had described exactly what the firebender looked like, from his ghostly pale skin to the strange hair style on the top of his head. He hadn’t, however, chosen to mention the scar that covered his face for some inexplicable reason. It caught Katara off guard, to see an obvious burn wound like that on a firebender, on his face of all places. A healing burn.

She didn’t mean to stare, but she felt like it was rude to look away, too. Anik and Kai were also staring, in her defense. 

”Katara,” Sokka said, trying to subtly admonish her. She jumped a little, remembering to stoke the fire, which the boy ironically stayed a comfortable distance away from. “This is Zuko.” Sokka gestured broadly to the boy beside him. “Zuko, this is my sister Katara, and our friends Anik and Kai.” 

Zuko did an awkward half wave. Katara couldn’t fathom why Sokka felt the need to bring him here, with their friends. Kai was still scared half to death over whatever he had seen in Hahona’s igloo, which Sokka had chosen not to tell her about. 

“Hi, Zuko,” Anik answered first. He smiled, warm and bright. Katara did not follow his lead, and neither did Kai. In fact, Kai pressed into her side, and something fiercely protective came over her— from that action combined with seeing a firebender standing so closely to her brother. It felt nerve-wracking for all three of them to be seated on the ground around something he could easily use as a weapon while he smugly stood above them.

“I didn’t know we were having company for lunch,” She said, putting real effort into sounding as uninviting as possible. The look on Sokka’s face said she didn’t have to try that hard. She tried to communicate the intense feeling of ‘What is wrong with you?’ with just her eyes. He’d seen what their kind had done to his tribe— their tribe.

Sokka put forced nonchalance into his shrug. “We didn’t catch any fish. I was hoping Anik and Kai caught enough to share.”

“Of course we did!” Anik said at the same time Katara muttered, “Absolutely not.”

Kai looked to Anik with an immense amount of betrayal on his face. It was clear Zuko caught the exchange. His one eyebrow tugged downwards and he turned to speak to Sokka.

“It’s fine,” He forced the words out through his teeth. Even his voice sounded evil and venomous. “I’ll go.”

Sokka caught his wrist just as he turned away. It was clear, though, that whatever bond Sokka had seemed to think he’d formed with him during their fishing trip was nonexistent. Zuko yanked his wrist out of Sokka’s grip and stalked off in the direction they had come from.

Sokka turned back to give Katara an angry look. “What was that for?” 

“Sokka, he’s a firebender!” Katara hissed. “He could hurt you.”

She really didn’t understand what her dad was doing, letting Zuko stay here. Even Sokka was letting him go off on his own just now. Like anyone from the Fire Nation could be trusted.

Sokka softened up a bit after that, and by the time lunch was over, it almost felt like everything was back to normal. 

Late that evening, just after dinner, Sokka called for Hakoda while he was cleaning up the remnants of their dinner. The meal had been spent with Sokka telling him all about his fishing trip with Zuko while Katara pouted grumpily at him. 

“Yes?” He answered. Sokka came up to him and leaned heavily into his side. Hakoda pressed a thoughtless kiss to the crown of his head.

“Why did Prince Zuko want to go fishing today?” He asked. It was an odd question, one that sounded like it had something else hidden behind it. Hakoda couldn’t fathom what that would be.

He huffed a laugh. “He didn’t trust us not to poison his food, so he insisted on catching and cooking all of it.” 

Sokka went quiet. Hakoda wished he could see his face from this angle. Sokka going quiet was almost always something to worry about.

“It must be scary,” —Sokka began, pulling his face away to look at Hakoda with a knitted brow— “to be here all alone, with no one you can trust.”

Where the two of his kids got their intense empathy from, Hakoda would never know. (That was a lie— but the truth felt too painful to think about most days). 

“Yeah,” Hakoda admitted. “It must be.”

Hakoda only wished he could be half as good as his kids, one day.

Zuko crawled into the bedroll in Hahona’s igloo for the third time and found himself feeling an ache in his chest that was not entirely unfamiliar. It felt like homesickness, though that wasn’t quite right, because it was a feeling he’d felt even when he’d been in the palace. 

It felt more like grief.

He was hungry, and the healer was watching him with eyes that almost appeared worried, and he was wearing blue clothes and sleeping on an icy floor surrounded by people he didn’t know. He wanted to go… somewhere. Not home, necessarily, but somewhere else. 

He needed to find the Avatar. Then, he’d finally feel… less. Less like this. 

He shut his eyes, ready for the ignorant bliss of sleep, when a voice that wasn’t Hahona’s called his name.

He sat up, looking around wildly in the dark. He could just barely make out the shape of Sokka, standing by his bedroll, holding… something. Across the room, he could see that Hahona was sitting up in his bed.

“Hi,” Sokka whispered, crouching down low by his side.

“Hi?” Zuko looked at him, bewildered. Suddenly, he smelled something. Food.

“I brought you this,” Sokka set what he was holding on the floor. “You didn’t eat lunch, and I saw that you didn’t come out for dinner. So.” 

Zuko stared at the fuzzy shape of Sokka. His hair was down from the style it had been in earlier, curling loosely around his chin. 

“It isn’t poisoned, I pinky promise,” Sokka added.

“Pinky promise?” Zuko questioned, which really wasn’t what he should be focused on, but he was so tired and hungry he didn’t think he could find it in himself to care.

“Like this,” Sokka whispered, wiggling his pinky finger in his face. Zuko copied him, feeling ridiculously stupid. Sokka reached forward to wrap their pinkies around one another. “It’s the most solemn of vows.”

From the other side of the room, Zuko heard Hahona snort to himself. 

“Shut up, Hahona,” Sokka hissed over his shoulder. He turned his intense gaze back on Zuko. “I’d never make a pinky promise I didn’t mean.”

“Okay, whatever,” Zuko whispered back, feeling suddenly self-conscious and very confused. “Go away,” He muttered, and Sokka surprisingly listened without another word.

Zuko stared down at the food that was left by his pillow. It smelled amazing. He glanced up, but Hahona was politely rolled away from him.

It wouldn’t even be an exaggeration to say it was the best meal of his life. 

Hakoda woke up in the middle of the night with a start. 

Prince Zuko, Sokka had said.

Sokka, his son, with a huge mouth.

Why couldn’t anything ever go smoothly for him?

In a week’s time, a letter will be delivered to Fire Lord Ozai. 

Prince Zuko is in the Southern Water Tribe.

We have captured him and will only return him in exchange for a ceasefire.

If our demands are not met he will be executed for the war crimes you have committed against our people.

Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe