Chapter Text
Zuko leaned back against the wall in their guest bedroom on Kyoshi Island. The warm afternoon light filtering through the window was making him feel sleepy and slow. Zuko shifted a little under Sokka’s weight in his lap, and ran his fingers absently through his hair.
Sokka still had a smudge of white face paint under his ear, and Zuko rubbed it away with his thumb while he talked. He’d been regaling him with all kinds of stories of the Southern Water Tribe filtered through a nine year old’s lens, about things that he’d done and places Zuko was likely to see. There was a melancholy to it, too, for all the years lost, but Zuko wasn’t going to call attention to it.
Zuko liked Kyoshi Island, though he didn’t have many places to compare it to. He liked it better than the Fire Nation, in any case. The warriors were welcoming, and they had a real beach, though the locals had advised them against swimming. It was a good first stop on their trip, even if Sokka and Katara were obviously eager to move on to the Southern Water Tribe, to see their father again, to show Yue and Zuko the sights and see what had changed for themselves.
One of the villagers knocked tentatively on their door, like she hadn’t decided whether or not it was appropriate.
“Come in!” Sokka called. He didn’t bother to move from where he was lounging half on top of Zuko, though he perked up when he spotted the brown paper package in her hands. Zuko recognized the wrappings immediately.
(It was his own mistake for letting Sokka take it from her.)
“From your Uncle,” Sokka said, plucking the stack of letters off the side, where they’d been tied to the package with a red cord.
Sokka handed the little note over, while Zuko sorted through the boxes. The recycled tea boxes were labeled for your friends. There was another more ornate box, this one made from expensive, engraved wood, settled beneath them. Zuko turned it over and frowned when he didn’t see a label. He opened the letter that Uncle had sent along with it, skimming over his flowery greetings to find where he’d explained what the box was for.
“Oh, your cousin sent a letter, too,” Sokka said, picking at the seal with his thumb. Zuko hummed, still skimming over his uncle’s letter. It took him a moment for Sokka’s words to register, along with the shuffling of paper as he turned Lu Ten’s letter over in his hands. Zuko froze.
Oh, no.
Zuko tried to snatch the letter back from him, but Sokka’s fingers tightened on the page almost as soon as he grabbed for it.
Zuko met his eyes. Sokka’s expression had settled somewhere between shock and absolute, baffled delight, and the mischief in his eyes made him flush. Zuko tugged harder.
“Are these…?” Sokka asked, tugging back until Zuko was forced to let go or tear the pages. Zuko buried his face in his hands, instead. Sokka cleared his throat and read from the top, “Tips to woo Yue?”
“He’s just trying to be helpful,” Zuko said, the words muffled through his fingers. “He doesn’t know—”
“Oh, this is very helpful,” Sokka assured him. He was grinning at the pages as he shuffled through them, and Zuko was mortified to see how many there were. His face was on fire. “I should give these to Katara—”
“Do not,” Zuko said.
He snatched the letter, crumpling it in his fist, heat pooling in his fingertips. Then, he hesitated, and carefully smoothed the pages back out against his knee. Why did Uncle have to be so respectful of his privacy? This would have been so much easier if he’d just set Lu Ten straight, rather than waiting for Zuko to do it himself.
“Just—here,” Zuko said, shoving the rest of Uncle’s package toward him. The repurposed tea boxes, not the finely engraved wooden box with its latch still in place.
“Those are for you,” he said pointedly. “Go give them to Katara and Yue.”
“Can I read your Uncle’s letter?” Sokka asked.
“No,” Zuko said forcefully. Certainly not before Zuko had read it, first. Spirits knew what Uncle had written about them. Sokka laughed, but gathered up the boxes anyway, although with a healthy amount of wariness for their contents.
“They’re candy,” Zuko added, seeing Sokka’s face. “Not spicy.”
“We’ll be the judge of that,” Sokka said, and then he leaned down and kissed him. Zuko’s heart still fluttered, every time a surprise, every time a—distraction. If Zuko hadn’t been red enough before, he definitely was now, and by the way Sokka laughed under his breath, he’d noticed. “Don’t skip dinner just because you’re writing your Uncle back. You’re going to be grumpy if you have to eat ship’s rations instead of a real meal because you lost track of time.”
Sokka was the one who would have been grumpy, but Zuko hummed acknowledgement anyway.
Zuko turned his attention back to Uncle’s letter. It shouldn’t have surprised him that he’d thought to send a package ahead, especially after Zuko had told him the route they’d planned to take. He worried the edge of the page with his thumb.
Something to share with your friends, and a gift for the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe. It’s important to make a good first impression...
Unease crawled under his skin as he read the rest of the letter, and its contents settled into the back of his mind, where the little riot of nerves had been quietly growing for the last few weeks of their voyage. He...
Spirits, he was meeting Sokka’s father. Sokka’s father, and the rest of the Southern Water Tribe, who had every reason to hate the Fire Nation, and he was expected to make a good first impression, and—
Suddenly, Zuko wasn’t hungry.
They’d left Kyoshi Island behind days ago, and Zuko was trying not to think about how they were probably only hours away from sighting land. Nervousness had calcified into something much closer to dread as they drew closer, even as Sokka and Katara grew more excited.
Zuko hadn’t wanted to ruin their happiness, so he’d slipped down into their quarters after dinner, when the rest of the crew was distracted keeping watch for land. He’d forgone his own hammock to wrap himself up in Sokka’s, feeling a little ridiculous, but mostly just anxious.
He’d had half a mind to just stay there until they made landfall, before the quiet sound of the hatch opening, of boots on the ladder rail, interrupted his misery. Zuko felt a tentative hand on his head a few seconds later, and any hope that he could continue wallowing in peace went up in smoke.
“Hey, buddy,” Sokka said, gently brushing his fingers through Zuko’s hair. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Zuko said.
“Seasick?” Sokka asked. “I’m sure Yue wouldn’t mind sharing her patch of rail.”
“I’m not seasick,” Zuko said. He’d actually expected it to be worse, being down below deck. He hadn’t done well inside when he was sailing to the Northern Water Tribe, but Water Tribe ships weren’t claustrophobic in the way the private cabins on a Fire Nation vessel were, with a wide, wooden hold, rather than sterile steel hallways. It wasn’t so bad, when he could climb into a hammock that swayed along with the ocean and wrap himself in one of the soft furs that smelled like Sokka.
“Okay… so, is there a reason you’re wrapped up in my hammock, in the middle of the afternoon? Is it...” Sokka hesitated, “Do you want me to stop teasing you about Yue? I was just joking. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“It’s not that,” Zuko said quickly, because he did not want to talk about his cousin, or the mortifying letter he’d sent ahead to Kyoshi Island. “I’m fine.”
Sokka hummed.
“You sound fine,” he said, unconvinced, and mercilessly did not leave Zuko to agonize in peace.
“I think… maybe I should have stayed with Suki on Kyoshi Island,” Zuko said.
The Kyoshi Warriors had been so welcoming, even after Zuko had introduced himself, and they’d learned who he was. They were going to stop by again after visiting Sokka’s father anyway, to offer to bring Suki with them on their tour of the Earth Kingdom, so it wouldn’t have even been a hardship—
“For three weeks?” Sokka asked. And okay, no, he didn’t want to stay on Kyoshi Island for three weeks when Sokka wasn’t going to be there with him, but…
“Maybe,” Zuko said stubbornly. “I just...” He sighed, frustrated. Sokka didn’t even say anything, just waited patiently for Zuko to continue. “Meeting you father is… stressful.”
“I know,” Sokka said gently, “but he’s going to like you.”
“How can you possibly know that?” Zuko asked.
“Because I like you,” Sokka said.
Zuko’s stomach dropped. Sokka’s hand stilled in his hair, for just a second, at his expression.
“You hated me when we first met,” Zuko said. He buried his face in the pillow. “Agni, he’s going to hate me.”
“I didn’t hate you,” Sokka said. Zuko glared at him, and Sokka rolled his eyes. “I didn’t! I didn’t even know you, I just—okay, maybe the Fire Nation thing will take a little getting used to…”
Zuko groaned, and when he squashed his face back into the furs, Sokka went back to patting his hair, consolingly.
“How about this,” Sokka said. “It doesn’t matter if he hates you.”
Zuko had nothing to say to that, because of course it mattered, because Sokka loved his father, and Zuko wanted Sokka to love—because he—because it mattered.
Sokka nudged him. When Zuko didn’t look up, he sighed, exasperated.
“Okay, that’s it. Scoot over,” Sokka said.
“It’s a one person hammock,” Zuko said, mostly into the furs.
“It’s my hammock,” Sokka said. “So I get to decide how many people it fits. Scoot.”
Zuko hesitated, but Sokka just kept poking him until he let go of the fur enough that Sokka could pull it back. There was really no graceful way to fit two people into a single-person hammock, but Zuko suspected that, maybe, that had been the point.
He pulled Sokka’s fur up high enough to cover his face, to cover his smile, as Sokka wrapped himself, just… all around him, one knee over his side, his nose brushing the back of Zuko’s neck.
“There. We fit,” he said smugly, and Zuko couldn’t help but laugh.
Sokka brushed a hand down his side, soothing but also, clearly, considering his words.
“You think I’m not nervous?” Sokka asked. Zuko’s smile went a little brittle, and he was thankful Sokka couldn’t see it. Or maybe not, he thought, when Sokka’s arm tightened around his waist, anyway.
“I know you are,” Zuko said. Sokka actually had a good reason to be nervous. Zuko was just… the way he was. He’d done this before, for spirit’s sake, when he’d first arrived for his appointment in the North Pole, and with far less support than he had now. The only difference now was that he actually had something to lose. “I’m sorry for—”
“Will you shush?” Sokka asked, in the same tone he used to ask why are you like this? That was a question that had, unsurprisingly, stopped making an appearance, sometime after Sokka got a better idea of… everything, really, about Zuko.
“I just meant that I get it,” Sokka said, “and we can be nervous together. And you know, maybe—uh, maybe he won’t be happy, but I don’t care. I still want you to meet my family, and I’m still going to show you everything I promised we’d see. Okay?”
Zuko hummed.
“He’ll come around,” Sokka insisted, which was different from he’ll like you, but Zuko wasn’t going to argue. He grabbed Sokka’s hand where it was draped over his side, and laced their fingers together.
It was mid-afternoon, and even though there were no windows in the crew quarters, and it was certainly dark enough to sleep, it was too early. Zuko was too wound up to fall asleep easily, anyway, but it was nice to relax for a while.
He could almost pretend that it was actually relaxing, even though he was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be able to truly relax until their visit was over.
“Ready to go back upstairs?” Sokka asked, after so long that Zuko had started to wonder if Sokka had fallen asleep instead. He felt—not calmer, really, but better. Zuko sighed, and if his breath came out a little warm, Sokka was kind enough not to tease him for it.
The cold air stung a little when Zuko took a deep breath, but that was grounding in its own way. Yue and Katara were exactly where Zuko had left them after their meal, Yue leaning part-way over the side of the ship, with Katara crouched beside her, expression torn between amusement and sympathy.
Yue turned at the sound of their boots on the deck and caught Zuko’s eye.
Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she still looked a bit gray. She’d been seasick for nearly the whole voyage, and… it kind of showed, in her slightly rumpled appearance, robes not-quite pressed. She’d given up on her complicated, looping hairstyle early into the trip, traded for a simple braid. There were a few flyaway hairs tucked behind her ears, which she hadn’t even bothered trying to tame.
She looked more put together than Zuko felt, in any case.
Katara rubbed a hand up and down her back, soothingly.
“We’re walking,” Yue said. “Next time, we’re walking.”
“To the Earth Kingdom?” Sokka asked.
“Yes,” she said. “The Fire Nation, too. Anywhere.”
“We can’t walk to the Earth Kingdom, and the Fire Nation is an archipelago,” Sokka said. “It’s in the middle of the ocean.”
“Katara can move it,” Yue said.
“The ocean?” Sokka asked.
Yue turned and fixed Katara with a wide-eyed stare, overly hopeful, and much more frazzled than her usual, poised teasing. It made Katara laugh, outright, which made Yue pout.
“We’ll get you something before we go,” Katara promised her, still rubbing soothing circles on her back. “You should have told me you got seasick. We could have asked Master Yagoda before we left.”
“I didn’t know,” Yue said mournfully. “I’ve never been anywhere. The gondolas at home are not like this.”
Katara pet her hair, then tucked another flyaway strand behind her ear. “The waves will be better once we’re closer to shore,” she said, glancing up at the smudge on the horizon, promising their impending arrival at the South Pole.
Zuko didn’t realize he’d been imagining Agna Qel’a until they’d drawn close enough for him to finally make out more than the rough shape of the bay curving inland. Harbor Town wasn’t built upwards like the North Pole, with towering buildings and the spire of the palace rising above them all. The city had spread wide instead, buildings with rounded roofs like pearls peeking out of the snow stretched in every direction.
At the very edges of the village, he could just make out the rough scaffolding and exposed walls of half-finished houses. The reconstruction project had been underway for years, and soon the Southern Water Tribe would be even stronger than before. Their heading took them straight into the mouth of the bay, toward the center of the city and the bustling port, crammed with far more ships than Zuko remembered seeing in Agna Qel’a’s harbor, a mix of Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe vessels.
“Is it how you remember it?” Zuko asked. He’d meant it—it was supposed to be a happy question, but when Zuko turned to smile at Sokka, he was startled to see him frowning at the city, looking uncertain.
“No,” Sokka said, shaking his head. “It was never like this. I almost don’t recognize it.”
Zuko crossed his arms. He’d been feeling nervous all morning, vaguely sick with it, but when he glanced over at Sokka he didn’t seem nearly as anxious as Zuko was feeling at the prospect of meeting his father. If anything, he looked lost.
He could... relate to feeling unrooted, to clinging to memories he knew weren’t real anymore, and being disappointed by the change, anyway. It was easy, too easy, to fixate on what they’d lost.
“What parts do you recognize?” Zuko asked. Sokka glanced over at him. He hadn’t expected the question, but he frowned thoughtfully, anyway.
“I...” Sokka trailed off, and turned back toward the harbor. Hesitantly, he pointed, although they were far enough out that Zuko couldn’t follow the line of his finger very well. “The sort of taller one, in the middle. That’s the group house. I think it’s the same—they just built around it. Which means my—I mean, my dad’s house is right behind it. You can’t see it from here.” Sokka hummed. “The bay’s the same, obviously. The...”
He leaned over, and gestured toward the water. As if on cue, a striped brown head poked above the surface—or maybe it had been following a cue, expecting a treat, because the tiger seal watched them with a disgruntled, distinctly annoyed look before splashing away.
“They follow the fishing ships,” he explained, as Zuko leaned over for a better look.
Sokka hummed, and when the next wave rocked the ship he leaned into Zuko a little. It could have been an accident, or just an excuse to get warm, but Zuko knew it wasn’t.
“I know what you’re doing,” Sokka said. “And… thanks. I guess, I always used to think about coming home, and... I knew it would be different, but for some reason I never tried to picture what home would actually look like.”
They stood for a few more minutes, leaning against the rail and against each other. Eventually the vice captain came up from below deck to shout orders to the crew. Zuko watched a few of the men scramble up the rigging, the sails snapping in the sharp winds sweeping off the bay. The cold spray off the water, the slow build of anticipation as they waited to draw close enough to land, brought him back to that first day, waiting outside Agna Qela’s walls, to how nervous he’d been then, and how determined to fulfill his duty.
They were getting close enough now that he could make out a small group gathering at the pier. He’d made Sokka describe his father, in probably more detail than he should have had the patience for, although Sokka never made him feel like he was being annoying, or a burden. Zuko hadn’t known what Chief Arnook looked like when he’d first met him, and he was not making that mistake again. He was going to recognize him, immediately, and he was going to greet him properly, and he wasn’t going to mess it up—
Zuko scanned over them, nothing more than little blue shapes on the dock, trying to somehow tell which one was Sokka’s father. They looked—the same, all of them, because they were still much too far away for Zuko to make out their faces.
“It’s dad!” Katara said. She leaned eagerly against the railing, pointing at one of the little smudges, and Zuko tried to follow her finger before she turned away to run up the deck.
“She seems excited,” Zuko said quietly. He tilted his head to look at Sokka, and the thready smile he was wearing as he watched his sister lean over the rail. “You seem…”
Sokka shrugged.
“She… chose to leave, and to stay with me,” he murmured, quiet enough for just Zuko to hear. “And she had her bending training, while I just... I feel like I wasted so much time. Sorry, I don’t know.”
He stared down at his hands, with a little flicker of self-consciousness, as though he had anything to apologize for.
“I am excited,” he insisted. “I think it’s just… different.”
Zuko squeezed his hand, and Sokka glanced up at him, first surprised, then fond. The softness of his smile reached his eyes—Sokka’s eyes were always soft, when he looked at him, but now they were something else, a lightness that curled gently around Zuko’s too-quick heart, care and comfort and warmth.
“Katara!” Yue yelped, shattering the moment. Zuko ripped his eyes away just in time to see the top of her hair disappear over the side, and hear the splash.
Sokka was at the rail in an instant, and Zuko snatched his elbow, holding him back from doing anything rash, like diving in after her.
Katara was standing on a little ice floe, hands on her hips, bobbing gently in the ship’s wake.
“You can’t wait twenty more minutes?” Sokka called down to her, exasperated.
She laughed, loud and bright, at the look on Sokka’s face.
“Jump,” Katara said. “I’ll catch you.”
Sokka glanced at Yue, still looking grey, and then over at Zuko. He’d been looking forward to the time to breathe, and to brace himself for the meeting. He was probably gripping the railing too tightly to disguise how much he did not want to go ahead, but even if he hadn’t been, Sokka always seemed to see through him, anyway.
“I think we can wait,” Sokka said.
“Suit yourself,” Katara said, sweeping her arms out. The ship gave a tiny jolt, as Katara swept out over the water, enough that the vice captain paused to glance over the side before shaking his head slightly. Yue made a tiny, unhappy sound when the ship settled, and pressed her forehead against the rail.
She still looked happy, though, and excited for Katara. Zuko forced his own nerves down, as deeply as he could, and reminded himself that he could be happy for them, too.
Despite her hesitation to go with Katara, Yue was desperate to get off the ship. She was the first person to deboard as soon as the gangplank went down. Zuko watched the crew mill around for a moment too long. Sokka’s mittened hand nudged against his own.
“Ready?” Sokka asked.
No was the answer, and they both knew it. Sokka’s expression softened, seeing the look on Zuko’s face, even though he was very much trying to hide it, because Sokka was nervous, too, and this wasn’t fair of him—
Sokka leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Zuko’s temple, just along the edge of his scar. His nose was freezing, brushing against the soft skin of Zuko’s hairline. He blinked, and tried not to shiver, and—steeled himself, because he could do this. Sokka rested a hand against Zuko’s lower back, and nudged him forward. He could do this.
The dock was slick with an inch of ice blown off the bay, and Sokka was eyeing Zuko like he was worried he would fall, or maybe like he expected him to turn right around and climb back below deck.
Zuko could hear someone chiding Katara down on the dock. That must be the chief. His stomach flipped treacherously. Should he peek over the rail, try to catch a glimpse of him? No, he should—he should be poised, and… not make a fool of himself, make a good impression—
“You see how the ship brings the passengers all the way to the dock, and then they deboard?” Chief Hakoda asked. Katara laughed, which just made him sound more exasperated, words carried up over the rail by the wind, “We have a perfectly nice, perfectly safe wharf here.”
“I couldn’t wait,” Katara said.
“You two will be the death of me,” Chief Hakoda said.
“What did I do?” Sokka asked.
The Chief’s head snapped up at Sokka’s words. Zuko withdrew, just a little. It—it wasn’t a retreat, he was just… giving Sokka space, and anyway, Sokka didn’t notice. Even though their footsteps had been in sync the whole walk over, he didn’t notice as Zuko let him go on ahead without him, pace quickening as he walked down the gangplank. He was near jogging when he reached him, arms thrown wide. Chief Hakoda huffed when he collided with him, rocking back on his heels and wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders.
Sokka was nearly as tall as his father, but he looked small wrapped up in his arms. He bent forward slightly, laid his head down on his shoulder and buried his face in the soft fur at his collar.
“Hi, dad,” Sokka said.
“Let me look at you,” Hakoda said, but he didn’t immediately pull away. They hugged for another long moment before he leaned back at arm’s length. Despite his nerves, Sokka was grinning so hard that Zuko had to suppress a smile, too. When the chief brought his hands up to the side of his head he straightened up even further.
“What happened to Tui’s blessing?” he asked, and then he tugged on the white braid on the side of Sokka’s head, until he laughed and swatted his hand away.
“We used it, I guess. During the battle,” Sokka said, absently patting the front of his coat. Alarm flickered across the chief’s face. Sokka hastily added, “But Katara healed me up, so I’m fine now. I don’t need it anymore.”
“The death of me,” Chief Hakoda repeated, more firmly, and Sokka’s grin took on a sheepish tilt.
Chief Hakoda sighed and shook his head. He turned, then, and his eyes fell on Yue. He smiled, patiently expectant. Katara jumped, an embarrassed flush creeping up her neck.
“Chief Hakoda,” Katara said, mouth curling slightly at the formality, “This is Princess Yue of the Northern Water Tribe.”
“Princess,” Chief Hakoda greeted her warmly. She looked remarkably poised, considering she’d spent the better part of the last week wishing for death, and Zuko was immensely jealous of her composure. The chief turned with an amiable smile, probably to say something else to Katara.
Sokka nudged his father on the shoulder, instead, drawing his attention back.
“And this… this… uh,” Sokka said, when he turned over his shoulder and saw that Zuko wasn’t there.
Because Zuko was—still standing frozen at the top of the gangplank, like an idiot. He flushed and strode forward, and focused very, very hard on not slipping on the icy walk. Sokka smiled at him, far too fond, which just made Zuko more embarrassed. Chief Hakoda—looked a little puzzled, gaze flicking over his face and his coat, but there was no recognition there, and oh spirits, he didn’t know who he was.
“Chief Hakoda, this is Prince Zuko,” Sokka said, “of the—”
“Prince Zuko,” Chief Hakoda repeated, fixing his son with a startled look. Sokka faltered, just slightly, at the look on his father’s face.
“...of the Fire Nation,” Zuko filled in.
There was something inscrutable in his expression, as it flickered back over Zuko’s face. He wasn’t certain it was possible for him to get any tenser, or stand any straighter—he tried, anyway.
Sokka was frowning at him, just barely. Zuko’s heart sank.
“Welcome to the Southern Water Tribe,” Chief Hakoda said amiably, after just slightly too long. Zuko nodded and reached to shake his hand in the Water Tribe style. He looked a little caught off guard by the gesture, but it easily smoothed over.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Zuko said, even though they both knew that it was Sokka who had invited him, not the chief.
Zuko paused to pull open his bag, and draw the engraved box his uncle had sent out. He’d already peeked inside, just to be certain his uncle hadn’t accidentally chosen something that would be received—poorly. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have worried, or even been surprised by its contents. He’d merely rolled his eyes when he’d seen the tea set that Uncle had chosen.
“A gift from my uncle,” Zuko explained. He hastily amended, “The Fire Lord.”
Yue was staring at him and the box with a little squint, like she was seriously regretting not bringing something too. Zuko was trying very hard not to look at her, or at Sokka or Katara.
“Thank you,” Hakoda said, taking the box—reluctantly? No, he just looked… puzzled, not that Zuko understood why. Hospitality gifts weren’t that strange. It was something the Water Tribes and the Fire Nation had in common.
With the searching look the chief gave him, gaze lingering a moment too long, Zuko couldn’t help but feel like he’d done something wrong, anyway.
They’d packed lightly, knowing that anything they brought with them by ship would also have to come with them as they hiked through the Earth Kingdom. They waited awkwardly on the docks until their bags had been unloaded, and then followed Sokka’s father down the pier.
The chief was getting the same reception that Sokka always had whenever they walked through the streets in Agna Qel’a, with seemingly everyone they crossed paths with stopping to smile and say hello. Zuko might have found it funny, if he wasn’t too busy being sick with nerves. Katara was walking ahead, tucked under her father’s arm, and Yue was trailing politely beside them. Zuko made a point of hanging a few steps behind, and Sokka had noticed after only a few feet and slowed down to walk with him.
“I’m sorry,” Zuko whispered.
“What for?” Sokka asked.
“I’m—I don’t know,” he said honestly. He didn’t know, and that was the problem. He’d messed this up, somehow, already. He’d probably… never really stood a chance of doing this right, with who he was, and he didn’t know what Chief Hakoda was thinking, and Sokka was frowning, and—
Sokka caught his hand and squeezed it, just a little.
“He’s just—surprised,” Sokka said. He sounded a little doubtful as he said it, but he was smiling now, like he thought Zuko wouldn’t notice if he pasted on a placid face. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s us. We should have written ahead and warned him we were bringing you and Yue along.”
The village didn’t flow quite so obviously as Agna Qel’a did, probably because they hadn’t been constrained by the canals and arching bridges that divided the streets of the Northern Water Tribe, and wouldn’t have had the waterbenders for a system like that if they’d wanted it. Here, the walkways were more clearly marked out by villagers’ boots, with the main streets stamped out along the busiest paths from the harbor.
They got a few curious looks, but they weren’t nearly as wary as Zuko had worried they might be, especially so soon after news of what had happened to their sister tribe, although Zuko suspected that might have been due to the company he was with more than anything.
They passed the large building that Sokka had pointed out to him on the way in. Zuko hadn’t been able to see the carvings in the walls from afar, but up close they were obvious, abstract push and pull designs representing Tui and La, and a larger diagram of the phases of the moon over the doorway, marking the building as more obviously a public space than the homes behind it.
Sokka and Katara both hesitated a moment at the turn, when the chief didn’t lead them directly behind the building, in the direction of his home like Sokka had described.
“I thought you two might be a little big to share your old room,” Hakoda explained, when he stopped outside a much smaller building. He brushed the fur hanging in the doorway aside and held it open for them as they filed into the living space. It was small, but so much warmer than outside, or the cavernous rooms in the Northern Water Tribe’s palace, even though the fire in the hearth wasn’t lit.
“That would be a little cramped,” Katara agreed. She threw her bag down in front of one of the doorways, calling dibs.
“I’m sorry Princess Yue, Prince Zuko,” Chief Hakoda said. “We didn’t have a chance to have rooms prepared for you.” He gave his children an exasperated look. “But if you’d like to drop your things here, they’ll be safe until after dinner. Then—”
“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” Katara said. “Yue and I are going to share. Sokka and Zuko, too.”
Chief Hakoda stared at her for a moment, and then turned to look right at Zuko.
Well, at Zuko and Yue, but Zuko could barely think about how Yue was standing right beside him, doing her own impression of a pinned butterfly moth, as the chief stared at them, and then turned back to his children, eyebrows lifted in just the slightest display of surprise.
Zuko felt like he was going to combust from nerves. And for once, he thought that Yue might be there with him. Her face was so carefully blank, and Zuko was certain it was almost a perfect mirror of his own. She didn’t blush easily, but even she was turning very slightly red.
Zuko was—he wasn’t even embarrassed, he’d gone suddenly cold, dread hollowing him out and creeping into the corners. Embarrassment would have been preferable, it was the scrutiny that he couldn’t stand, as Sokka’s father glanced between the four of them like he couldn’t quite decide what to make of them.
Zuko took a slow breath that did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. He was regretting—everything. He should have stayed behind, after all. Sokka wouldn’t have cared. He’d have been disappointed, but he would have understood, probably, and not hated him for it, most likely—
Sokka took Zuko’s hand, and he only barely resisted the urge to flinch at the sudden touch, or give in to the urge to hide it, because apparently they weren’t hiding anything, they were just going to come out and tell their father without any warning, like there was no possibility of him taking it badly, or like they didn’t care if he did—
“All right then,” Chief Hakoda said, after a moment. “Let me know if you decide you’d like your own spaces.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Yue said, with remarkable poise, considering. Zuko couldn’t seem to make himself say anything at all, which was good, because it meant that the chief didn’t so much as glance at him. He just squeezed Sokka’s shoulder, kissed Katara’s hair, and let himself out without another word.
“That went well,” Katara said.
“You’re crushing my hand,” Sokka said, and Zuko jerked his hand back.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You’re good,” Sokka said. “You okay?”
Zuko tucked his hands into his sleeves. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” Sokka said, sounding skeptical. “We’re gonna go say hi to Gran Gran before dinner. Do you want to come?”
“Zuko and I are going to unpack,” Yue said firmly, before Zuko could stutter out a lie about how he would like nothing more than to leave right now to meet Sokka’s grandmother, who Sokka clearly loved, even though he was exhausted and kind of wanted to lie face down right here in the middle of the floor.
Katara shrugged, and swept Yue’s mostly-intact braid behind her shoulder, just an excuse to touch. “You can meet her at dinner, anyway,” she said. “I’ll come get you.”
Sokka was looking at Zuko like he could see right through him, like he was considering offering to stay back, too. Zuko mustered up the most convincing smile he could—probably not that convincing, judging by the eyeroll Sokka gave him, but good enough.
Yue collapsed onto the rug in the middle of the room almost as soon as they were gone, groaning into her hands. Zuko could relate.
Zuko was prepared for dinner. This, at least, he’d done before. He’d had plenty of practice in Northern Water Tribe dining customs, and surely the Southern Water Tribe couldn’t be so far off. He felt better, knowing what to expect.
Zuko was prepared for dinner, until he stepped into what was not a banquet hall, like they had in the Northern Water Tribe, but a simple living space, with a single table already set in the center of the room. This was someone's house.
This was the chief’s house.
Katara put a hand between his shoulders before he could fully freeze in the doorway, and steered him over to sit in the empty space beside Sokka. She sat down on Yue’s other side, as though nothing had happened, beside an enormous man that Zuko definitely hadn’t been introduced to, and an elder at his side who must be Sokka’s grandmother.
The chief nodded to them as they sat at the table, where their meal had already been served. The food was familiar, at least, all arranged on large shared plates in the middle of the table, although Zuko eyed some of the dishes—a bowl of sea prune stew, passed around the table—less enthusiastically than others. Sokka started to help himself almost as soon as they’d sat down, pausing only to pass pieces of salted fish and puffin seal sausage over to his grandmother.
Zuko hesitated, and stole a look at Yue, but she only shrugged and followed suit.
Introductions were awkward, but not as bad as they could have been. Sokka and Katara had clearly spoken to their grandmother about both of them already, so she just smiled and greeted them warmly. The other man introduced himself as Bato, the chief’s husband. Zuko was definitely going to have words with Sokka about what was and was not relevant information, but at least the man didn’t seem offended by Zuko’s surprise. He had a pleasant voice, a calming demeanor that might have been disarming, in other circumstances, but Zuko was buzzing with too much nervous energy to really relax.
They settled in to eat, and Sokka’s grandmother had plenty of questions—about their voyage here, about Sokka’s warrior training and Katara’s bending. About, even, Master Pakku, although there was clearly no love lost there for Katara or her grandmother, leaving the chief and his husband to exchange amused glances while Katara described, in great detail, the results of her interrupted match that she certainly would have won.
She stopped just short of the interruption, thankfully, although it hung awkwardly in the room anyway, but...
It had been going fine. He’d almost found himself relaxing, thinking, maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad—
“So,” Chief Hakoda said. “The Northern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation.”
Gran Gran hummed and sipped from her bowl. She nudged Bato lightly with her elbow.
“You’d better keep this one away from the Earth King,” she whispered, jabbing one bony thumb in the chief’s direction. Bato barked a laugh, which made Chief Hakoda glance up and squint suspiciously at the exchange, slightly too quiet for him to overhear.
“That’s a long trip, for both of you,” Chief Hakoda continued, after a pause wherein both Gran Gran and Bato glanced innocently away.
“We—all came from the Northern Water Tribe,” Zuko said.
“So I’ve heard,” Chief Hakoda said.
“We stopped by Kyoshi Island, first,” Katara added, smiling. She was breaking a crab leg with her hands, not at all dignified the way a princess was expected to be in the Fire Nation, or even in the Northern Water Tribe, really. But Zuko supposed… Sokka had said that the title meant more, in the North, so… it was probably fine. He would just copy what she was doing, since it seemed to be working. “Although Suki—she’s one of the Kyoshi Warriors—said that it’s not much like the rest of the Earth Kingdom, so we’ll have to see.”
“See what?” Bato asked.
“Well, we’re planning to go to the Earth Kingdom next,” Katara said. He blinked at her, and then turned to share a look with his husband.
“We?” Hakoda asked.
“Yes, we… all of us,” Katara said.
The chief hesitated, a frown already creasing his forehead, and slowly lowered his bowl to the table.
“You two just got here,” Chief Hakoda said. “Don’t you think you should stay for a while?”
“We’re staying for three weeks,” Katara said. “And it’s not like we won’t be back to visit again soon.”
“I don’t like the idea of you travelling the Earth Kingdom alone,” Chief Hakoda said.
“Well, good thing we’re not going alone,” Sokka said. “Zuko and Yue will be there, and we’re going to bring Suki, too.”
Katara was a bending master. Zuko was, maybe not as good as Katara, but he was a strong enough bender, and a fairly good swordsman. Yue was a natural at diplomacy, so immediately likable, and Sokka was a genius. Zuko couldn’t have felt more confident in his friends.
That wasn’t why the chief was worried, though, and all of them knew it.
“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” Chief Hakoda said. Frustration flashed over Sokka’s face, there and gone in an instant. Zuko saw it anyway, and if the chief’s startled expression was anything to go by, he had seen it too.
“We can take care of ourselves,” Sokka said. “We have been.”
“I know you can,” Chief Hakoda said, placating. “That’s not the issue—”
“We can talk about this more later,” Bato suggested. Sokka skewered his meat with a little more force than necessary, knife clicking sharply against his plate.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said. “It’s our decision, and we’re going!”
“Sokka—”
“I’m—” Sokka said. He hesitated, clearly rethinking what he’d been about to say, and huffed under his breath, “—going to get some air.” He pushed himself up from the table and turned for the door. “If you think I can manage on my own.”
Chief Hakoda sighed. He scrubbed a hand over his face, then glanced at Katara, who just crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, stubborn, and looking startlingly like her father. He sighed again and rose to follow Sokka, with Gran Gran and Bato watching him with mixed disapproval and sympathy.
Zuko didn’t realize he’d risen to follow, too, until he was standing in the doorway. Sokka was already stomping up the road, well out of earshot, and either unaware that his father was following, or pointedly ignoring him.
“Wait,” Zuko said, too quickly to second guess himself. Chief Hakoda stalled, and Zuko hurried to add, “Uh, sir.”
“Prince Zuko,” he said.
“I think… he just needs a minute,” Zuko said.
The chief frowned at Sokka’s retreating back, but he looked more worried than upset by Zuko’s interruption. The chief hummed.
“I suppose you would know better than I would,” he said.
“That’s not...” Zuko started to protest, but the chief sent him a quelling look, one eyebrow raised.
“It’s all right, son,” he said. “I’m not offended.”
Zuko tucked his hands into his sleeves, feeling awkward, and nervous. It was—maybe too late to go back inside, now, not without offending him. He hadn’t really thought it through when he’d followed, beyond seeing that Sokka was upset and wanting to help. The silence felt oppressive, with the night settling over the village like a blanket. It might have been a comfort—the peace, the stillness, the quiet—but all Zuko could focus on was the too-loud beating of his heart as the chief considered him.
“To be honest Prince Zuko, I didn’t know what to make of you,” Chief Hakoda said. Zuko’s fingers curled around the seam inside his sleeve, worrying the fabric beneath his thumb. “No one knows a thing about you. I’d never even heard of you, before the news from the Northern Water Tribe reached us. Hell of a first impression.”
“Ah,” Zuko said. Well that… explained his reaction at the docks, at least. Zuko straightened, trying and failing not to look nervous. It was already cold outside, and at some point during the meal it had snowed, large wet flakes that still clung to the ground where they landed. “What… have you heard?”
“Chief Arnook’s letter was short,” he said. “Very short. Katara’s safe, Sokka is injured and recovering—that’s it. Promise of another letter to follow, which we’re still waiting on, by the way.”
There was a hint of bitter frustration in his tone, the same as he’d seen flicker over Katara’s and Sokka’s faces in the North Pole. The Northern Water Tribe’s general disinterest in the Southern Tribe during the war was well known—it had, in fact, been a key consideration in the Fire Nation’s strategy, during the raids.
Chief Arnook had been overwhelmed in the aftermath of the battle, Zuko knew. He’d had a difficult enough time convincing Tekka to add his letter to Lu Ten to their backlog before they’d departed, with how many other correspondences the Northern Water Tribe had needed to send in the wake of the battle, to allies, to victims’ families—
Zuko cleared his throat. Chief Hakoda sighed and glanced at him sidelong, like he was thinking along the same lines. He understood, but the slight had aggravated old wounds all the same.
Zuko shivered, pulled his arms a little tighter to his chest in the cold. He didn’t use his breath of fire, as much as he wanted to—the coat was good enough.
“We’ve heard—a few versions, from the traders passing through,” Chief Hakoda said, and Zuko winced. He raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m happy to hear yours.”
Chief Arnook had mentioned that Sokka was injured, but he hadn’t mentioned how. He would almost think that he’d been trying to spare Zuko the blame, but most likely he’d been too busy for explanations, or maybe hadn’t gotten the full story himself, if he’d sent the letter before Sokka had been awake enough to tell it. Zuko took a breath, frustrated with how unsteady he felt, fingers curled over the edge of his sleeve.
“I was injured,” Zuko said quietly, “when my father tried to attack the Spirit Oasis.”
He held out his left hand, so the chief could see the faint pink scars spidering toward his wrist, disappearing beneath his sleeve. Master Yagoda had told him that they might fade, especially if Katara continued to treat them, but they would always be there.
He was long past feeling self-conscious about his scars, but the look the chief was giving him was an entirely different matter.
“I know that… for a son… to his father,” Zuko started, the words sticking treacherously. He cleared his throat. “I know how it looks. But my father—wasn’t a good man.”
“I don’t imagine he was,” Hakoda said. Zuko nodded tightly, relieved that he didn’t have to justify himself, because he wasn’t entirely certain he could. He took a breath to steady himself, not that it helped much.
“Right. So that’s…Sokka came with me, that night,” Zuko said. “He saved me. Him, and the moon spirit.”
Even just saying it out loud made his heart thump faster. The nervous energy he felt talking to the chief was nothing compared to the sick dread he felt, thinking of how that night could have gone differently.
“Katara had to re-heal his wounds, after,” Zuko said. “But… he really is fine, and… the Fire Nation never supported my father’s actions. Uncle isn’t like him at all, he—”
Chief Hakoda was looking faintly… amused? Zuko trailed off, embarrassed, when he caught him looking.
“Spoken like a true diplomat,” Hakoda said. Zuko cringed.
“Sorry. I just meant,” Zuko hesitated. “I’m not sure what else you’ve heard about… me, but I hope that whatever it was won’t reflect poorly on the Fire Nation. Or my uncle. He’s a good man.”
Chief Hakoda considered that. Zuko waited patiently for him to say something, but he only sighed again and turned his gaze down the road. Sokka was out of sight now, but Zuko followed the direction he’d gone with his eyes, anyway.
“It hasn’t. As far as I’m concerned, they’re just rumors,” Chief Hakoda said. Right. Of course the chief wouldn’t base his judgements on something so unreliable. Zuko nodded, embarrassed, and glanced away. “And for what it’s worth... I think you’re doing a fine job, representing your nation.”
“I’ve—oh,” Zuko said. He... hadn’t expected that, and… he was probably flushing a truly embarrassing color, now. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, sir.”
“Has Sokka told you what happened, when he was young?” he asked. Zuko nodded. “Then you understand that I just want my children to be safe.”
“They are—I mean, they will be,” Zuko said. “And they have each other.”
“I’m starting to understand that,” Hakoda said. “Tell Sokka I’d like to speak with him, when he’s ready.”
Zuko nodded. The chief stared at him for another long moment, before nodding once, almost to himself.
“Well,” he said. “I’ll leave you to it.”
The harbor was brighter here than it had been in the North, without the looming shadow of the wall. The stars stretched on endlessly above, breathtaking, meeting the glittering surface of the ocean under the moonlight. Out there on the end of the dark pier, Sokka looked like he was seated on the edge of the world.
Zuko’s boots crunched in the snow as he approached. Sokka glanced up, tense and irritated, until he saw that it was him. He relaxed slightly as Zuko made his way down to the end of the dock, the hollow thump of his boots the only sound other than the quiet rush of the water below them. Zuko sat at the edge, legs crossed. He hesitated, then scooted slightly closer, letting his feet dangle over the side next to Sokka’s. Zuko hooked one boot across his ankle, testing, and Sokka smiled.
“I spoke to your father,” Zuko said, and the tense irritation came right back. Zuko put a hand on Sokka’s knee to keep him from climbing to his feet. Sokka huffed, tongue pressed against his cheek.
“I can’t believe him,” Sokka grumbled. “I told him to leave you alone.”
Zuko shook his head quickly. “He—no. I spoke to him. Um. For you.”
Sokka looked surprised, and a little curl of self-consciousness threatened his stomach. He shrunk back slightly.
“Sorry,” Zuko said. Maybe he’d overstepped. Sokka was close with his father, after all, even if it had been a long time. Maybe it wasn’t his place to get involved at all. “Is… that okay?”
“Yeah, no, that’s fine,” Sokka said immediately. “Thank you. What did… what did he say?”
“I told him what happened, and he said—that he wants to talk to you,” Zuko said. “But I think he understands. He’s just worried about you—”
“—because he loves me,” Sokka said. He scrubbed a hand against the back of his neck, almost sheepishly. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to him.”
The silence stretched comfortably between them. Zuko leaned over, just a little, and bumped his shoulder against Sokka’s.
“You asked your father to leave me alone?” Zuko asked. Sokka glanced up at him, then flushed, embarrassed.
“Oh. Yeah. I thought… you were already so nervous, I didn’t want him to stress you out,” Sokka said. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk to him without backup.”
“It was terrible,” Zuko confirmed, so bluntly that it startled a laugh out of Sokka. Zuko wasn’t really joking—his hands still felt a little unsteady from the nerves. Sokka smiled, and leaned a little further into his side. “He’s… a nice man.”
“Yeah,” Sokka said. “He is.”
With only a gentle breeze promising clear skies for the night, the ocean waves were calm and quiet. Zuko scanned the horizon, then turned to look back at the village, with the speckles of firelight dotting along the snow.
“The paintings really didn’t do it justice,” Zuko said quietly. “Not that—I know they couldn’t, really, but…”
“It’s really different,” Sokka agreed. He was leaning a little against Zuko’s side, and Zuko shifted over enough to put his arm around him. It was cold out here, colder even than Zuko remembered from the Northern Water Tribe, although he wasn’t sure if he was just imagining it after the time away, or if the high wall surrounding Agna Qel’a had kept away some of the chill.
“And that’s not a bad thing,” Sokka said. “It’s different, but it’s good. There are so many more people, and they’ve already rebuilt so much. It reminds me of Gran Gran’s stories, almost, but… I don’t know. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.”
“I’d stay with you,” Zuko said. “If you decided you want to stay.”
“I don’t want to,” Sokka said. “I mean, I do! Of course I do, but not… not right now. I want to travel. I want to see the world. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life hidden behind more walls.”
He sighed and tipped his head down to rest on Zuko’s shoulder.
“What’s the point of peace, if we can’t do that?” Sokka asked quietly.
Zuko hummed. He tilted his cheek against Sokka’s hair and watched the waves roll over the starlit water.
“My uncle has said good things about Ba Sing Se,” Zuko said. He paused, flushed. “I mean… he’s only been there when… but I’m sure it’s nice, now—”
Sokka chuckled, effectively cutting him off before he could get going. Zuko could feel the laughter rumble through his own chest, with Sokka leaning so heavily into his side.
“We can definitely make Ba Sing Se happen,” Sokka said. “That’s much better than Katara’s pick. She wants to see that stupid swamp, and I know it’s a waterbending thing. Not a great pick for a vacation, in my opinion, but whatever. If she wants to spend her time getting bit by giant flies and elbow leeches, that’s her choice.”
The fondness in Sokka’s tone, very stubbornly glazed over with put-upon annoyance, gave him away. Sokka was going to be right out there with her, slogging through the mud with the rest of them.
“And where does Yue want to go?” Zuko asked.
“Ember Island,” Sokka said.
Zuko leaned back, surprised, and maybe a little too eager. Sokka indulgently let him go.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Sokka said. “Someone got it into her head that it’s nice there, so... I guess we’re going to the Fire Nation, after.”
Sokka reached down between them and caught Zuko’s hand. His fingers were clumsy inside the thick, three-fingered mittens Sokka had pressed on him. Sokka gave him a playful look, tugging his own glove off with his teeth. His hand snaked inside Zuko’s mitten, wrapping tightly around his fingers.
Zuko flushed, and then laughed a little at himself, for getting flustered by something as innocent as holding hands. He glanced up to meet Sokka’s eyes, and the teasing smile was still there—but he was looking a little rosy, too, and maybe not just from the cold.
“Okay,” Zuko said. “Earth Kingdom first, then Fire Nation, then…”
“Who knows,” Sokka said, smiling into the darkness, his gaze tipped up toward the stars, and the words curled around them like a promise.
Zuko blinked awake, warm and content, to a light pressure on his temple. He rolled, slightly, as Sokka shifted behind him, watching through half-lidded eyes as Sokka leaned over him again. His arm was still around his waist, but he was leaning up on one elbow, feathering light kisses over Zuko’s cheek. Zuko blinked at him sleepily, and hummed, a soft, inquisitive sound. Sokka grinned when he saw that he was awake. He leaned down and kissed him then, sweetly, lips still sleep-warmed and soft.
“Time to get up,” Sokka whispered in his ear. Zuko shivered. Sokka had pushed their furs down around their waists, letting the cold morning air in.
“It’s—it’s still night time,” Zuko said. “Sun’s not up.”
“Only for a few more minutes,” Sokka said.
“Mhn, okay. Few more minutes,” Zuko mumbled. He tried to tug the furs back up, and Sokka chuckled.
“C’mon,” Sokka said. “I want to show you something.”
Zuko huffed, but when he squinted suspiciously at Sokka, he was looking at him with such a hopeful expression that all the stubborn fight bled out of him. Zuko was pretty sure he’d never say no to that look, for the rest of his life. The thought fluttered in his stomach, a nervous sort of feeling, but not at all bad.
“Come on,” Sokka repeated, and Zuko went.
This early in the morning, the docks were still empty, with the majority of the village still asleep. The cold had frozen the snow solid overnight, so that their footsteps only rasped quietly over the surface as they walked. They left no trail behind them as Sokka led him out to the docks again, where the pink light of the sunrise was just spilling over the horizon. Sokka sat, and Zuko sat too, easily slotting into the space at his side.
With the sun rising behind the glaciers, the light haloing them was breathtaking. It looked otherworldly, with the soft light of dawn shining through the thinnest edges of the ice, glowing pink and orange, the darkest shadows of the glacier’s cores tracing wandering shapes against the horizon.
“Nice, right?” Sokka asked. “Like a wildfire without the heat.”
“I wouldn’t mind the heat,” Zuko said, teasing, though he didn’t really mean it. Sokka laughed anyway. He leaned into his space, too, arm curling obediently around Zuko’s side.
They enjoyed the quiet for a while, watching the waves on the water, the light glancing off the ice. Sokka tilted his head to the side. Zuko leaned in, automatically, drawn like a compass needle to its pole. Sokka looked at him like he looked at the sunrise, with open wonder, and Zuko couldn’t contain the soft sound his gaze startled out of him, a feeling more desperately hopeful than surprise, and so, so much heavier than fondness.
He thought he might never get used to that look, and he thought—he desperately wanted to try.
Sokka’s fingers curled around the front of Zuko’s coat, brushing over the soft blue fur. He reached up to frame Sokka's face with his hands. Zuko’s cheeks felt chilled from the wind off the water, but Sokka’s nose was freezing without the warmth of an inner flame. He huffed and felt the heat from his breath wash over them in a wave. Sokka laughed against his lips, leaned into the warmth of Zuko’s skin, and kissed him.
A call echoed across the bay. Zuko almost ignored it, until the voice took on a distinctly annoyed tilt when they didn’t turn. Sokka sighed, the ghost of his breath feathering Zuko’s cheek as he turned to look.
“Hey, stupid!” Katara yelled, waving her hands over her head to catch their attention. Sokka nudged him.
“She’s talking to you,” Sokka whispered, his lips still inches from Zuko’s, like he couldn’t quite bear to pull away.
Zuko snorted. He leaned over and waved back at them, so that she knew they’d seen her. Katara swept an arm forward, a little wave rising in their wake to bring them closer. Yue looked less green than she had on the ship, but she still looked deeply unhappy with the gentle rocking from even Katara’s single wave, clutching the side of the canoe with gloved hands.
“I want to show Yue the glaciers where Dad used to take us spearfishing,” Katara said. “Grab a canoe, you’re coming.”
“We’re having a moment,” Sokka said, dusting snow off his pant legs, despite the protest. “Maybe we don’t want to go spearfishing.”
“Oh, please, like you don’t want to show off,” Katara said, rolling her eyes. “Hurry up, if you don’t want to row out there yourselves. I’m not a ferry service.”
Sokka glanced over at Zuko, and Zuko shrugged.
“You never did show me how to fish,” he said.