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ATLA — Sun & moon spirits
- I see your moon spirit Sokka and raise you this
- Zuko and Sokka are sun and moon spirits respectively, — altered atla timeline where they don’t meet (they dance around one another) or don’t touch one another until the day of black sun (the eclipse). Listen, it’s meant to be mysterious and romantic and like a bit of on the edge of your seat. Also, perhaps Zuko was born before Sokka and he was sick as well and Ursa prayed to the spirits to help her son and they say he was saved by the sun was the same day Sokka was saved by the moon.
- Zuko hair is like gold? Although black hair suits him… perhaps he has a streak of golden white hair?
- Think Anna from frozen lmao
- Or Narcissa malfoy???? I think yes
- Like spun gold
- ‘... his body was warm to touch, as thought the warmth of the sun on a summer day flowed through his veins. Sokka knew that the bodies of those who could fire bend were naturally warmer than those who couldn’t, but this seemed different almost from what he had imagined. His hand was warmed by its grip on the boy’s forearm and he half worried that the heat would cause him to sweat and his palm to become clammy…’
- Title idea — Total Eclipse (of the heart)
- Hide hair
- Zuko — cut/shave/dye
- Charcoal?
- Iroh helping Zuko dye it
- Sokka — squid ink
- DoBS — no dye, white & gold hair
- Sokka not into yue — “maybe if I was another person. If we were other people in another lifetime”
- “We are brother and sister, perhaps not by blood, but nonetheless we are connected”
THE SUN
The young prince had been born in the darkness of night, the moon full and heavy as it sat in the sky, shining through the window and onto the young boy where he had been placed on his weary mother’s breast — his father nowhere to be seen, most likely off brooding some place away from the birthing room.
His father had hoped for a strong son, birthed into greatness and under the blazing sun. his mother had started labouring young in the day before the sun had even reached its peak, and his father swelled with pride. But the labour was long and hard, and as the sun slipped behind the horizon, his father had slipped away with it.
“He is weak,” a nursemaid gently told his mother. “The birth was hard for the both of you.”
The tired woman tenderly glanced at her son, only a few moments old, and yet he already held her heart in his small, soft baby hands. “He will make it,” she told the older woman without aws much as a glance in her direction. She knew he would, she would make sure of it.
He moved slightly and she adjusted her hold on the child. “You will make it,” she spoke to him softly. “You will, my strong, brave boy,” she had thought that what she felt for her husband was love, but it was nothing compared to how she felt as she watched her son feeding from her breast.
“You will survive, my precious Zuko.”
The nursemaid was, unfortunately, correct — young Prince Zuko was weak. He hardly made a noise, and when he did it was small and broken, much like Ursa’s heart was each time Ozai refused to even look in his son’s direction. He would hardly feed, and when he did it was never much. He was small, smaller than all the other babies had been at his age.
He mostly slept. Hours at a time. Which Ursa knew was both a blessing and a curse.
Ozai was horrid — ashamed of his own son, afraid of his father’s judgements, angry at his wife. Several times he had accused Ursa of being unfaithful, for surely he could not have fathered such a weak willed son. But the fire sages had insisted that this boy, the scrawny runt, was his heir. Pathetic.
The fire sages also delivered the news that had Ozai nearly disown the child, barely a week old. Little Zuko’s inner flame, was but an ember. What Prince of the Fire Nation couldn’t firebend?
Ursa slept in the nursery for the following few weeks, both scared of Ozai and that he would take action on her precious Zuko during the night. Ozai would have found that befitting — a prince of fire, born in the light of the moon dying in its light only weeks after.
During the day she found sanctuary in one of the palace gardens. It was a peaceful place, the flowers vibrant this time of year, a slight warm breeze blowing was just enough to push away the heat of the day. Then there was the pond, its surface like a mirror, showing Ursa an image of herself and her son sitting by it. The mirror broke sometimes, however, the turtleducks had taken a liking to the newcomers, swimming over at least several times a day to check for the presence of the food that Ursa often tossed to them in gentle handfuls.
All the turtleducks were missing that day when Ursa found herself sitting down in her usual place, Zuko sleeping in her arms. All of them, except one.
The lone turtleduck is one she has never seen before — he is slightly smaller than the others that normally frequent the pond. She isn't sure how she knows, but she feels as though the creature speaks to her with his eyes, and yet, she is unsure of what he is telling her. He swims closer to her, tearing the mirror-like surface in two and sending ripples over the pond.
“Hello little one,” she speaks to it, as her hand reaches into a bag of feed she had brought along with her. She tosses a handful of it on the grass just in front of her, coaxing the turtleduck out of the water. As it steps out of the pond and shakes the water off its hide which Ursa releases a quiet chuckle at the small animal.
Under the light of the sun its feathers appear to almost glow gold, leaving her in slight awe at the vibrant colour. Its shell a fantastic green hue that reminded her of some of the shrubs in the garden — she was sure the little turtleduck would be able to camouflage in it if not for his feathers of gold.
“Well, little one,” Ursa speaks to the golden creature, who forrages through the grass to find the small pieces of feed that she had thrown down for him. “It is wonderful to meet you,” the turtleduck looks up at her, his head cocked slightly to the side. Zuko makes a noise in her arms and moves slightly, she smiles down at her son. “Are you saying hello to our new friend?” she questions, and she glances back at the turtleduck, but he no longer looks at her, but instead at the child in her arms.
“Oh,” she whispers, glancing back at her son. She readjusts him so that the golden animal can see his face. “Well, this is Zuko,” she tells the turtleduck. It’s almost absurd how normal and natural it feels to her, as though she introduces her sickly month-old son to turtleducks everyday.
She tries to gauge the turtleduck’s reaction, but turtleduck emotions are not something she has had much practice at guessing. But he doesn't look away from Zuko for a long while, and when he does it is only to look Ursa in the eyes before he turns back to the pond.
The small turtleduck gets back in the water, but this time his movements do not send ripples across the water, nor does he challenge the mirror-like surface. He swims out to the middle, where the reflection of the sun — now high in the sky — sits, and, without so much as a glance back at Ursa and her son, the turtleduck dives under the surface. The only trace of his presence is a tiny ripple that emanates over the entire pond.
As Ursa watches the sun’s reflection in the pond, a voice speaks in her ear. She turns to look over her shoulder, but no one is there.
“The water,” it tells her, repeating the phrase over and over again. It’s deep and husky, and as it speaks the voice moves. First in one ear, then the other, she hears it come from in front of her, from behind her, above and below. She gingerly stands, her grip on Zuko tighter — yet not enough to hurt him, never enough to hurt him.
“The water,” the disembodied voice tells her once more. This time it comes from in front of her, seemingly from the place where the turtleduck had disappeared.
Slowly, she takes her shoes off and places first one foot in the pond, and then the next, at first it only reaches her ankles, but with each step she takes it gets deeper. The pond floor is mud, her feet sink into it but the sludge does not deter her. At first, her skirts float around her, but they slowly sink as the water soaks into them, weighing them down, pulling them under the surface. Despite her movements, the water hardly moves, the only sign of her presence in the pond is the soft ripples over the surface. She moves as though in a trance-like state now, edging closer and closer to the reflection of the sun. She hasn't seen the turtleduck surface, and a part of her doesn't expect it to.
She stops a foot before the sun’s reflection, the water reaches her waist now, and she finally breaks her gaze from the water to look down at her son and her heart swells with love. She runs a hand over his head, over the small tufts of dark hair that he had refusing to lay flat on his head. She gently places a kiss to his forehead. Even if he was only a month old, she had known him for nine months longer than anyone else, and she was irrevocably in love with him.
That was why, as she gently lowered him into the water, in the middle of the reflection of the sun, she sent a prayer to whatever spirit may be listening.
“Please,” she begged them. “Please save my boy.”
THE MOON
- Sokkas story
Had it not have been for the fact that she was eight months pregnant, the chief of the Southern water tribe may not have been worried when his wife disappeared. He was used to her antics — he knew she was a free spirit when he married her, that was what he loved about her most of all. Many men before him had tried to take her hand in marriage, and all of them had failed. It was Hakoda, who knew that she wasn’t a woman he could break, a woman he couldn’t expect to be the perfect housewife, that had finally wormed his way into her heart. And after they had fallen in love like so, she could hardly tell him no.
Despite their union, Kya often sought out solace in the vast white snowy expanses outside of the tribe walls. After the first time, however, and his state of panic and anxiety over her whereabouts, she always made it practice to leave a letter.
She had left a letter this time too. But it was not very detailed. A small note rather than a letter.
The spirits are calling. Be back soon.
The spirits were always talking to Kya, it seemed. Hakoda never heard them. He half wished he did, that way perhaps he could have some semblance of a clue as to where she may have been headed, how far she could have gotten with that 8-months pregnant waddle that made her look more and more like a penguin-otter each day. But he didn’t, and all he could do was to wait for her safe return.
Kya had left while Hakoda had been at a war meeting. A sack filled with dried meats and extra pelts hung over her shoulder. A hastily scrawling a note as she left the home she shared with her husband.
The tribe’s women were busy — today was a laundry day and they all had gathered in the centre of the town to mingle while they worked. This made it easy for Kya to skirt around the edges of the village and through the icy gates, as she had done many times before.
Part 1
- Zuko brooding?
- Based on zuko chasing them in book 1???
Part 2
- Book 2
Part 3
- Book 3 (up to DoBS)
Part 4
- DoBS from Sokka and Zuko pov
When he met his eyes, they were wide and full of something sokka had never imagined — sincerity. Zuko’s blazing gold eyes told sokka what he needed to know, that zuko had meant every word he had said
Eyes golden like the sun on a warm afternoon — intense yet inviting.
“well, “ he beings, eyes cutting away from the runaway fire prince to Aang. “you do need someone to teach you firebending, i suppose zuko is the best chance you've got.”
Aang nodded and moved onto katara, but sokka didnt pay attention to what she had to say, insteading turning back to zuko, whose hair hung down across his eyes. Had they always been that bright? Always been that gold? Perhaps, sokka told himself. Theyre that way because he no longer feels bound to his father.
Perhaps it was being cut free from the ties to his father, to the firelord and his abstract view of what honour is that gave him a new found spark, the one that lit up his eyes.
Despite what his brain and katara told him, somehow he felt as though zuko didnt deserve the bad rep they had given him. He was hardly even 16, barely older than sokka himself, and had lived a life where fire nation propaganda had showered his every waking moment thus far.
Perhaps he did deserve a second chance, the moon had supplied sokka with many extra chances, maybe it was finally time to pay it forward.
“Can i ask, Aang started as they made their way along an old path to where they were to train today. “What’s up with your hair?”
Zuko had always known it was only a matter of time before someone asked. “Oh,” he starts softly. “Well i dont really know,” he looked at his feet while he walked, refusin go even look in the vicinity of the airbender. “What i do know is that it wasnt always like this… when i was born it was just normal hair, but when i was a month old, my mother bathed me in the turtleduck pond at the palace, when she pulled he out my hair and eyes had changed colour.”
“Wow,” aang gasped. “Its like you were blessed by a spirit!”
Zuko hummed. “Well, im not so sure — my life certainly doesnt feel spirit…”
“Well sure, neither did mine unti i found out i was the avatar!”
Zuko humed once again. “Still, i think the spirits would have chosen someone better than me to bless.”
“Someone like… sokka?”
Zuko glanced at the shorter boy. Of all people, why the water tribe boy?
“Uh, surei guess… now hurry u. Youve got lots to learn if youre ever going to defeat my father.”
While zuko and aang were out searching for dragons, sokka finally buit up the courage to talk to his sister, to ask a question that had been grating on his mind for some time — since zuko finally joined them.
“Wash myy hair for me?” sokka was perfectly capable of washing his own hair, yet the question was about more than just cleaning his hair of the usual dirt and grime. With Katara’s waterbending skills had the ability to allow her to be able to strip the dye from sokka’s hair, to extricate it from each and every folice and leave it as his natural colour — moon white as he liked to call it.
“Are you sure, sokka?” she questioned. “What if someone sees it? What if-?”
“What if what, katara?” he snaps. “Katara, im sick of hiding it, its who i am. If im doing it to hide from fire nation then yeah, sure — because white hair will stick out like a sore thumb. Hiding it is okay. But when no one else is around why cant it? I mean, zuko shows his…”
“So if zuko jumped a cliff would you follow him?”