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Sokka stared into the night sky. The stars were shining brighter than ever before. A gentle breeze swept by—giving Sokka shivers.
“Yue, are you trying to comfort me?” Sokka let out a weak chuckle as he noticed the Moon sparkle.
Sokka coughed out blood; he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was lying in his own pool of blood. There was no one in sight to help him—he was all alone.
The green grass turned red as more blood seeped out.
He heard nothing but the sound of the wind growing stronger. The leaves falling down with each breeze.
He felt his eyelids grow heavy; his eyelashes fluttering with each blink he took to stay awake.
A small tear rolled down his cheek and mixing into the blood covered grass. “Zuko…”
Sokka woke up panting: sweat and tears rolling down his face. He examined his body—no blood, no injury.
He noticed how his hands looked smaller: devoid of any scars and cracks.
He froze when he realized where he was; everything that surrounded him was red. The color he saw everyday years ago.
“... Fire Nation?” Sokka sat up on his bed. He looked down to see what he was wearing: a red robe.
“This can't be.” He stood up and checked himself in the mirror—he was younger than he was before he died… Did he die?
Sokka rushed to remove his clothes to check himself for injuries.
None.
“Was I dreaming?” Sokka furrowed his brows. It felt too true to be a dream.
“Shit. What's going on?” Sokka stumbled backwards to his bed. “Did I time travel?... Impossible.”
Sokka rushed to put on new clothes.
He opened the door and ran through the hallway; servants, guards, and other irrelevant palace staff called out to him, but he didn't stop running.
He had to see something, someone.
He opened the door to the throne room; the whole room stared at him in shock. “Your Highness, it's courtesy to have someone announce your arrival.” The chamberlain spoke. Sokka ignored him, his pupils dilating when he saw his beloved.
The Fire Lord, sensing his husband's distress, stood up. “Sokka? What's wrong?”
Sokka's heart beat grew faster, his breathing growing unstable. He was alive.
“Zuko! You're–” Sokka stumbled: his head suddenly throbbing.
Memories flashed—Zuko being assassinated, the rebellion, the team arguing on whether to mourn or take revenge.
Sokka felt like throwing up. He didn't want to remember those painful memories. Not right now, not in front of everyone. Not in front of his alive husband.
His head throbbed again—his legs stumbling. He couldn't stand straight. He couldn't focus. He heard shouts but he couldn't register what they were saying.
Strong muscles embraced him; the same muscles he knew and missed. “Sokka, my love, can you hear me?”
Sokka's headache got worse: sweat beaded down his forehead. “UGH–” His body arched in pain.
Years worth of memories kept on flashing through Sokka's mind; both past and present. Each memory mixing together to create a new one; countless possibilities and alterations formed endlessly on Sokka's mortal brain.
When the healer arrived, she managed to calm Sokka down. “I'm sorry, my lord. This is only a temporary solution. I don't know what's happening to him.” The healer shook her head regretfully. “Occasionally wet the towel with cold water, it will help cool him down.”
Zuko nodded and dismissed the healer. He saw how distressed and in pain Sokka looked. “I'm sorry, my love. I wish I can help you.” He kissed his lover's cold hand. “Get well soon, please.”
Zuko stayed with Sokka until his body went back to a normal temperature. He smiled in relief and placed Sokka's palm on his cheeks. “Wake up soon, my love.”
Sokka groaned as the sunlight hit his face. The sun was shining too bright. “Ngh…”
He looked around—he was back in his room. So I wasn't dreaming.
Sokka looked towards his right, his eyes widening when he saw Zuko sleeping uncomfortably on a chair. “Zuko…”
Sokka tried to go near him; his body aching as he moved. His wince seemed to startle his Fire Lord lover.
“Sokka!” Zuko panicked when he saw Sokka hunched over in pain. “My love, are you okay? Are you in any pain? Do you need a healer?”
“Zuko, calm down. My whole body is just aching.” Zuko sighed. “So you don't need anything?” Sokka shook his head. “Not right now, no.”
Zuko stared at Sokka before he let out a shaky sigh. “... I was so worried. You suddenly collapsed in the throne room.”
Sokka gave him an awkward smile. “I did, didn't I?” Zuko hesitated to say anything further: not wanting to offend or embarrass Sokka.
“... I wanted to see you. I guess I was so happy to see you that I fainted.” Zuko chuckled. “You got a fever because of how much you missed me.” Sokka giggled at his retort.
The Fire Lord knew he was joking; his lover enjoyed making jokes to lighten up the mood… But that joke in particular held deep emotions and sincerity.
Zuko kissed Sokka's hand. “I love you so much.”
Sokka smiled. He missed this feeling: Zuko's lips on his body; the hitch of his breath whenever his beloved touches him.
He missed this. All of this.
Sokka engulfed Zuko's hands in his; kissing the knuckles of each finger. “My beloved, I truly missed you.”
Zuko smiled. It didn't take a second before he realized Sokka started crying: tears falling down on his hand.
“Sokka! What's wrong? Why are you crying?” Zuko stood up from his seat and sat on Sokka's bed. “My love? Will you talk to me?”
Sokka sobbed—truly sobbed: the whimper with each cry, the struggle to breathe properly; the struggle to explain why you're hurting.
Zuko embraced Sokka and caressed him. “I'm here, my love.”
Sokka wailed.
The pain of each memory, mental and emotional distress hitting him in one fell swoop.
Zuko waited patiently for Sokka to feel better. He wiped his tears and gave him a gentle smile. “How do you feel?” Sokka sniffled. “Like shit.” The former chuckled. “Are you comfortable telling me what made you cry?” Sokka bit his bottom lip.
“I had a very vivid bad dream,” Sokka let out a weary sigh. “A dream where you were assassinated. I didn't have the chance to protect you– I… I was too far away.”
“Oh, love…” Zuko caressed Sokka's cheek—Sokka leaned into the touch. “It was a nightmare. I was so lonely.”
“I'm here now.”
“You are.” Sokka smiled. “Please never leave me again.”
Sokka woke up in the middle of nowhere: his feet were submerged in water—there was nothing but water.
“ZUKO?!” Sokka shouted into the vast nothingness. “ZUKO, MY BELOVED?!” Sokka started walking, his feet feeling heavy with each step he took. “SHIT!” He shouted in horror when he realized he was slowly starting to get submerged into the water. “HELP! ANYONE! PLEASE! ZUKO!” He shouted until his throat was sore.
There was no one coming to help him.
He was all alone. Again.
Sokka cried as he surrendered to the relentless pull of the water beneath him.
Sokka woke up panting—his breathing heavy. “Shit. What's wrong with me…?” He looked to his right: he saw Zuko peacefully sleeping beside him, his muscular arm embracing him tightly.
Sokka smiled affectionately.
His body ached when he tried to move; a deep red hue appearing on his face. Right. We did it.
Sokka removed Zuko's hand and got out of bed—his body screaming in protest. “Ouch.”
He walked to the connected bathroom—checking himself in the mirror, hickeys filled his entire body.
He froze. There was a scar on his body that wasn't there before, Zuko couldn't have made it—it looked too old to be a fresh scar, plus, Zuko was never rough with him.
Sokka sighed.
There was no use stressing himself over it. Zuko would panic and worry about him.
He heard wings fluttering: a crow had landed on the windowsill. Sokka smiled. “Hello, little one.” The crow looked at him and cawed before flying away.
Sokka sighed and went back to bed. “You look so peaceful, Zuko.” He smiled and played with his beloved's hair.
Four weeks had passed.
Sokka has never been happier—he got to time travel back in time to be with his husband again.
He could potentially prevent his husband's assassination. As long as he has memories of his past, he can protect his beloved.
Two weeks. Two weeks until Zuko's potential assassination. He had to change fate—he had to save his beloved from Death's embrace.
Sokka tied his hair up—new hickeys were visible on his neck. He smiled and admired himself in the mirror; he touched the hickeys and blushed.
He was Zuko's and Zuko was his.
He wore his usual attire: Fire Nation robes with a tinge of blue to signify his origins from the South Pole.
He heard wings flutter.
He looked to his left and smiled. “Hello, Maya.”
Ever since he saw the crow on the windowsill that night, it never stopped visiting him.
He decided to give his bird companion a name—Maya.
The bird looked at him and cawed before flying away; it was the same routine every time: the crow would land on a windowsill, look and caw at him before flying away. Sokka found it weird at first but he grew accustomed to the bird's weird behavior.
Sokka looked for any imperfections and nodded in satisfaction when he didn't find any.
He opened the bedroom door to go find his darling husband. He flinched when he saw a guard near his door. “Couldn't you announce your presence first?”
The guard bowed his head. “Forgive me, your highness. I was sent by Lord Zuko to accompany you.”
“Right, right. Okay. Thanks.” The walk towards the Palace Garden was awkward. Trying to ease the tension—Sokka made small talk with the guard. The guard gave short replies to Sokka, much to his dismay.
Arriving at the Palace Gardens, Sokka inhaled the fresh air; he could smell the different scents from each planted flower.
He saw his husband walk over with a bouquet of flowers. “My love.” Sokka gave him an amused look. “Did you really have to give me a bouquet when there are plenty of flowers here?”
“Picking the flowers isn't allowed, my love.” Sokka chuckled and took the bouquet of flowers. “These are beautiful, my beloved. Thank you.”
They walked side by side silently—their hands brushed against each other; their faces heating up like awkward teenagers.
“Spirits, what are we doing? We're married!” Zuko laughed. “I know. I guess it's been so long since we went on a date that I'm nervous.”
“Don't act like you didn't plant hickeys on me last night.” Zuko’s face turned red. “That's different.”
“Is it now?” Sokka teased. Zuko touched the hickeys on Sokka's neck. “Very different.” They both stared at each other before kissing.
They sat down on a bench—watching the water flow from the mountain. “I missed this.” Sokka rested his head on Zuko's shoulder. “Me too. I've been too busy. I haven't treated you to a proper date.”
“It's okay. We sleep together everyday.” Zuko blushed, making Sokka smirk. “Not in that kind of way, my beloved.”
Sokka heard wings fluttering; he saw Maya along with a murder of crows. Their silence sent shivers down Sokka's spine; their stares gave him an uncomfortable and eerie feeling.
With each day that passed—Sokka prepared for the day of Zuko's assassination: he was going to protect him, he was going to tighten the security inside and outside the palace. He couldn't lose Zuko, not again.
On the day of the assassination, Sokka was tense. He never left Zuko's side: lingering next to his Fire Lord husband all the time.
Zuko didn't mind it. But he noticed Sokka's nervousness and the way he constantly fidgeted. “My love, what's wrong?”
“It's nothing.” Zuko's gaze lingered on Sokka before going back to work.
Sokka felt like his heart was going to leap out his chest: he was so nervous. Even with the amount of guards he asked to be deployed—his anxiety mocked him: telling him that something was about to go wrong, that his plan was going to fail.
That his beloved Zuko was going to die again.
Zuko sensed his anxiety and stood up. “My love, look at me. What's wrong? You've been breathing heavily since earlier.”
“I'm so–” Sokka's eyes widened when Zuko suddenly turned him around to switch positions.
THWACK!
A sickening sound of an arrow hitting someone was heard.
Shouts were heard from all over the Throne Room but Sokka couldn’t hear anything: his ears making static noises. “ZUKO!”
Blackness surrounded him—everyone that was in the same room as him disappeared into the vast nothingness. “ZUKO?! ZUKO, WHERE ARE YOU?!”
Sokka was being dragged down by the void. “NO! NO! ZUKO!” Tears streamed down his face. “NO!”
Sokka gasped. His heart beat erratic and his breathing unstable. He looked at hands—scarred and cracked.
He failed to protect his beloved, again.
No, it was all a dream.
Was it?
— END.