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By the time the candle on the table has melted into a squat little stump, she’s finally starting to descend from the upper regions of the astral plane; her scattered consciousness coalesces out of the aether like raindrops pooling into a puddle, gradually restoring her ability to see, think, and feel; at last, Mai can remember her own name again.
It remains a mystery how long she’s been lying under these sheets, staring blankly at the ornate painting of a wolf shark running across the domed ceiling of the bedchamber. Her recollection of how she arrived here in the first place is still foggy, memories only coming back to her piecemeal…
…the Fire Nation losing the war…Water Tribe armies invading the home islands…
…Ozai killed by Avatar Yue, Zuko and Azula defeated by Chief Hakoda’s children, Mai herself captured by Prince Sokka…
…but not in the usual way at all…they’d bantered, bargained, and flirted before she gave him her terms of surrender, and only then did he sling her over his shoulder and carry her back to his ship…
By now, she would have expected the honeymoon phase to be over—though her actual honeymoon begins tomorrow when they leave for Ember Island—but thus far, she’s suffered barely a shiver of shame. Whether or not she’s legally a traitor, having freely acquiesced to the invaders, is an open question; but considering how her own nation lost the war it started and abandoned her to be captured in the first place, she can’t be bothered with loyalty to the Fire Nation anymore.
Besides, Prince Sokka has proven himself as a man of his word: granting her full access to the Polar Palace’s kitchens, arranging a room down the hall for Tom-Tom, and, as tonight is their wedding night, overloading her water chakra until her spirit left her body.
There’s not a flicker of guilt on Mai’s conscience, no weight on her chest at all…
“Hmm…?”
…but, as she regains full awareness of her surroundings, there does seem to be a physical weight on her chest.
“Sokka…” she rasps, squinting at him in the dim candlelight, “…what are you doing over here?”
His bed—now theirs—is a large one, wide and sprawling enough to accommodate all seven Ty sisters if they were to visit (not that Mai would ever allow them this close to her husband); but it’s just the two of them, of course, and while she occupies only a narrow sliver of her half of the bed, Sokka has vacated the ample space available to him and fallen asleep right on top of her, more or less.
Over the bedsheets, his arm, heavy with sinewy muscle, lies across her midriff; beneath the sheets, his bent knee wedges against the flank of her shin; and his head rests on her chest, drooling open-mouthed like a monsoon-swollen river—so much so that she can feel the soaked linen clinging to her breast.
“Gross,” she grumbles, wrinkling her nose. “You’d better wake up, Prince Jerky Pocket. There’s no way I’m falling asleep like this.”
He replies with a throaty groan—but doesn’t stir otherwise.
“I’m serious. I’ll shave off your eyebrows if you don’t give me some space.” Spreading her hand across his brow, she raises his head, trying to rouse him. But doing so brings his loose hair down to frame his handsome face, inciting a bit of mercy—which disappears as soon as the weight of his head is back on her chest.
“You leave me no other choice.”
Bending her leg with her knee pointed away from him, she flattens the sole of her foot against his thigh.
His closed eyes instantly go wide.
“YOUCH! COLD FEET!”
Awake all at once, he springs off her and throws himself backwards, rolling onto his ass and tumbling off the bed—an impressive feat given its size—before hitting the floor with a grunt.
“Huh. Seems like the conquered has become the conqueror,” she muses, smirking at the open expanse of soft sheets she’s won for herself.
“Very funny!” His head follows his voice, rising above the edge of the bed with eyes narrowed. “And here I thought knives were your deadliest weapon. Those feet are colder than Koh’s cave!”
“Guess I’m better suited for the South Pole than I thought.”
“Ha! Hardly. On that gondola ride last week, you were buried under so many furs that I only recognized you by your buns.” Climbing up, he hops onto the bed and crawls towards her.
“Stop right there—that’s far enough, Your Highness,” she warns, stretching out her hand to bring him to a halt. “I don’t enjoy being smothered while I’m sleeping. Give me some space.”
His brows pinch together, and he flops onto his side, propped up by an elbow.
“You didn’t ask for any space when we were doing the squidshark shuffle earlier.”
“The squid…what? Is that the dance we did after the ceremony?”
“Uh, no. That was the Sacred Koi Dance, an actual dance to ask the ocean and moon spirits for a healthy marriage and lots of kids. The squidshark shuffle is slang for—”
“Right, I get it now. Thank you for enlightening me on that colloquialism. I’ll be certain never to use it.”
“Hey, the more you know! Anyway, when I was putting my squidshark moves on you a while ago, I didn’t hear a peep about needing space—and that’s saying something, since you weren’t being as quiet as you typically are.”
“I’m not talking about that,” Mai sighs, rolling her eyes. She props herself up on an elbow, mirroring him, while holding the bedsheet over her chest to keep his attention on their conversation. “We weren’t trying to sleep, so it’s different. Given how much time I expect us to be not sleeping in this bed together, the sleep I do get needs to be deep and sound. I can’t do that when you’re hugging me, snoring in my ear, or drooling over my chest—in the literal sense. It’s uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable?! How was it uncomfortable? It was cozy!”
“Don’t take it personally. I need to sleep as much as you do, and that’s already difficult surrounded by all this blue-and-white decor and lying on pillows that are way too soft.”
With an exaggerated groan, Sokka smacks himself across the face. “Oh, so now you have a problem with Water Tribe colors—and the pillows are too soft! Have any other complaints while we’re at it?”
“Listen—when you were convincing me with your brilliant ‘logic’ to sign up as your concubine, one of the perks you promised was the luxury of living in a palace. So if I do have a complaint, I’m going to air it.”
“Maybe you forgot that I promoted you from concubine to wife!” he counters, flashing her a dry grin as if he’s cornered her. “So you’ve forfeited your right to complain about pillows and cuddling!”
“Demote me, then,” she drawls, shrugging.
“What?!”
“Just demote me back to concubine—or however low my status needs to be so that I can complain as much as I like. What were those other titles you proposed? Malicious Mistress, Sardonic Sensual Souvenir, Periodically Pregnant Prisoner, Volunteer Vocational—”
“Fine! If that’s what you want!” Leaping out of bed, Sokka marches buck naked across the chamber. The angry flexing of his buttocks as he stalks over to the small table by the door is nearly enough to make Mai forget she’s upset with him.
(But only nearly.)
He slaps a sheet of parchment onto the tabletop, dunks the quill in the ink pot, and begins to narrate as he writes: “Prince…Sokka…hereby demotes…Lady Mai…of the Fire Nation…from Princess Consort…to Ornery…Onerous…Odalisk! How’s that sound?”
“Lot of syllables, but it works.”
She reclines onto her back and draws a long, frustrated breath. While she hasn’t shared them with anyone, not even Sokka, she has had high hopes for their marriage—but this isn’t a great start.
“I can’t believe you don’t want to cuddle! Cuddling is supposed to be the best part of being married!”
“Doubtful.”
He drops onto the bed and pulls up the sheets, yanking them towards himself; she quickly grips the hem before she loses her cover.
“I mean, think about it,” Sokka sighs, throwing up his hands, “I conquered the Fire Nation, sacked your capital, took out your ex-boyfriend with my boomerang, carried you off as a spoil of war, and just squidshark-shuffled you into the Spirit World! And now you object?”
“Conquering, sacking, and despoiling I can handle. But I draw the line at cuddling.”
“Why?!”
“I’ve already told you why.”
He grumbles incoherently and drops his hands to his sides; as Mai glances towards him out of the corner of her eye, the few feet of rumpled bedsheets lying between them seem to stretch on and on—miles of frigid tundra separating her hand from his.
But this is what she wants. She wants the comfort, the luxury, the palace life with the gondola rides and the fruit tarts and the handsome prince with his vigorous enthusiasm for the squidshark shuffle—just not the obligations that come with it, not the compromise or reciprocation or willingness to make sacrifices of her own.
(And, if she’s being honest with herself, she’s getting cold. The Polar Palace is a polar palace, after all, and without Sokka to warm her up, her skin is starting to gather mongoose-goosebumps.)
Mai turns sideways to face him, arms crossed over her chest.
“Alright. Find a way for us to cuddle that doesn’t make me feel like I’m being smothered—and doesn’t involve you using my chest as your drool-pillow.”
Sokka has never looked happier, eyes bright and smile wild. He whips around and props himself up again.
“Really?! Are you serious?! What made you change your mind?!”
“I didn’t change my mind.” The sheets glide down his torso before settling just above his hips, almost making Mai forget what she hadn’t changed her mind about. “I just…reconsidered.”
“Well I’m glad you did!” he chirps, beaming. “Now…hmmm…gotta come up with a better cuddle position…” He squints into space, stroking his chin like a philosopher. “…I did like that last one, honestly—very soft and comfy. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you tie your chest bindings too tight because before tonight I had no idea those things were that—”
“Duly noted,” she drawls, grateful the room is dim enough to conceal her blush. “Come up with an alternative before I reconsider again.”
“Right! Sorry. How about…” Sokka wiggles nearer, much nearer, until they’re just a few inches apart. “…we lie facing each other like this. We’ll be close, but not too close, you know?”
“Let’s give it a try.”
She drops her head onto the pillow, their hands finding each other in the space between them. Fingers lace together and legs intertwine; Mai is careful to keep her cold feet away from his calves, though.
“This is nice,” Sokka whispers, giving her one of those looks, his eyes hooded and dreamy.
“Yeah. Not bad.”
“You’re really pretty, you know. Like, actually beautiful.”
“Thanks. You could certainly be a lot uglier yourself.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
Her eyes drift closed as their lips meet in a soft kiss, brief but tender; when they part, she surrenders to the drowsiness tugging her towards sleep, the exhaustion of the day catching up with her.
She thinks of her deep blue wedding gown, off-shoulder and trimmed in fur, how the crotchety old members of the Elders Council gave her chilly looks as she made her way up the aisle, then Sokka’s giddy, infectious smile during the shaman’s blessing.
Halfway through her recollection of the reception, she’s struck by something that, try as she might, won’t get off her mind.
“Sokka.” Her eyes fly open, as do his at the sound of his name. “You’re breathing on me.”
“Huh?”
“Right in my face. Your breath is hot. Can you stop that?”
“Stop breathing?! Do you want me dead?!”
“I still prefer you alive—at the moment,” she snarks, patting his chest. “We should try a different position.”
“Okay, sure…hmmm…” The same pensive squint consumes his features, his fingers tapping a muted rhythm over the sheets. “…flip around so you’re facing away from me. We’ll give the ol’ spoon-a-rooney a shot.”
Mai turns onto her back, then her other side, letting him close the distance until his hips meet the curve of her backside, touching his chest to her back and tucking his top leg between hers; an arm settles over her waist, curling tight to hold them together.
“Feels like you’re hugging me again.”
“But only a half-hug!”
“I guess so.”
“So you like it?”
“I don’t dislike it.”
Mai loves it. Even if she’s not much for cuddling, being snugly spooned fulfills her quiet desire to feel secure and wanted for herself, not as a political pawn or future mother of heirs or even an expert markswoman.
More than anything else, that’s why she was drawn to Sokka to begin with—he likes her for her; yes, he thinks she’s pretty, but they bonded over their sense of humor and shared appreciation for sharp objects first. He made it clear from the start that he would never use her, and he’s remained unwaveringly true ever since.
Her train of thought derails again, more abruptly than before.
“We can’t sleep like this.”
“Why not?!”
“Let me be more accurate,” she sighs, peering over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “I can’t sleep like this because you can’t sleep like this.”
“But I was just dozing!”
“Not all of you was dozing. Part of you is very, very awake right now.”
“Oh, um…fair point. I suppose we could, you know…”
“In case you didn’t notice, I’m not built as sturdily as a Glacier-class battleship—so we need to take a break from the squidshark shuffle until tomorrow.” She cringes at herself and mutters, “Spirits…can’t believe I just called it that…”
“No worries! I’m glad you’re not built like a Glacier-class battleship. You’ve got a lot of sharp lines like a battleship, but they’re shaped in nice ways, like…um…actually, I’m not sure where I was going with that. But I like how you’re shaped!”
He didn’t need to put that into words for her to know. By her own count, he’s glanced at her butt a total of thirty-seven times since they were pronounced man and wife this afternoon.
“Thanks. You’re not shaped so badly yourself.” She flips onto her belly and lies sideways to face him. “What’s next?”
“I’ve got one more idea,” he says, dropping onto his back. “When you said you preferred firm pillows, I started thinking…you didn’t like when I used your chest as a pillow, but how about you use my chest as a pillow? Mine’s a lot harder than yours, so I bet you’ll like it.”
Mai has been stealing a few glances herself, so she’s certain that she will.
Shifting closer, she tucks herself under his arm and rests her head on the taut pad of his pectoral; under the sheets, she lays her thigh across his, foot slotted between his shins.
“Hm. Not bad.”
“You like it?”
“Yeah. Pretty comfortable.”
“Good, because I’m not swapping out our pillows! You’ll have to sleep like this every night from now on!”
“Oh no, however will I manage?”
A warm chuckle rumbles beneath her ear, his arm looping across her back and his other hand resting on hers. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, humming contentedly.
“It’s sort of like we’re hugging each other, still. Is that alright with you?”
“If I have a reason to complain, you’ll know it—which I’m free to do as your Ornery Onerous Odalisk.”
Sokka snorts fondly. His thumb draws lazy circles on the back of her shoulder, which she should find annoying, but Mai is far too tired—and far too cozy—to object.
💤
Practically crippled from an extended morning of squidshark shuffling, she hobbles towards the bedroom door. Their ship is supposed to leave for Ember Island—or, as the Elders Council has decided to rename it, ‘Hakoda Island’—in less than an hour. She’s packed and dressed, but there’s still the matter of coming up with a list of activities to keep Tom-Tom busy while she’s gone for two weeks.
Normally she’d take her time and move at her own pace, but Sokka, already waiting down by the docks, doesn’t like to be late; he’s almost as in love with his plans and schedules as he is with her.
(Almost.)
She leans against the writing table and starts adjusting the fit of her betrothal necklace—a broad navy choker inlaid with a silver Water Tribe medallion—when his note from last night catches her eye. He hasn’t sealed and sent it yet, but the parchment doesn’t bear the message he pretended to write in the middle of their argument.
Mai,
Whatever your ‘official’ title is, to me, you’ll always be my wife. That’s a non-negotiable—just like cuddling should be! But seriously, today was the happiest day of my life. I love you.
Her lips slant into a smile, and she murmurs, “Love you too, Sokka.”