Archive of Our Own ^beta

Fire Prince Zuko is meditating with his eyes closed on the floor of the Western Air Temple, and no one is attacking him, or even trying to, and it’s weird. Sokka will admit that even if no one else will.

Aang seems to have wholeheartedly embraced the new resident Firebender after their little field trip together, Toph has never cared one way or another, and though Katara would never attack without provocation, she’s been out for Zuko’s blood since he got here– not that Sokka can blame her.

But Sokka doesn’t feel bloodthirsty. Or accepting, really. He just feels weirded out.

He doesn’t understand how Zuko could have shifted so completely from the vicious enemy they’d known and loathed into a person who is by all accounts docile, if socially awkward. Sokka wants to believe it’s all a cruel facade, an attempt to lower their guard and strike when they’re vulnerable, and a small, cynical part of him does believe that.

But if he’s entirely honest with himself, it doesn’t add up. Zuko has had about a million opportunities to strike since he’s joined, and he hasn't taken any of them. They had let him go on a trip alone with the Avatar, for Spirits’ sake, and he’d come back and then performed some ancient fire dance for them!

Which brings Sokka back to his main point, which is that this situation is, above all else, deeply weird.

Sometimes it feels like the long months the Gaang had spent running from him like hunted animals were all one messy, awful dream. But then he sees Katara sharpen in a way she never did before, icy like their homeland and just as unforgiving, and knows Zuko taught her that coldness. And though Aang tries to hide it, Sokka still catches him wincing on rainy days, rubbing the lightning scar on his back where Zuko’s sister had left it, his movements losing some of their airiness to pain.

Sokka knows that even he carries the remnants, in his own way– an unexpected hand on his arm used to make him think of companionship and bear hugs. Now, it has him reaching for his boomerang, braced to see angry golden eyes when he turns.

So. He knows it was real.

And now, apparently, they’re supposed to believe that it’s ended. That Zuko had woken up one day and realized the Fire Lord was evil and his ponytail was stupid and left it all behind to sing songs around the fire with his sworn enemies.

Yeah, right.

And, hey, Sokka isn’t one for grudges– he’d be happy to let the guy stick around if he could just trust that this whole thing is genuine. He’s enough of a strategist to know that it’s too late in the game to be turning friendly Firebenders away, even if their history is… complicated. But for that to work, he needs to know that Zuko is really, truly, honestly with them now.

And to be able to trust that, Sokka just needs a little more information. Not from Zuko directly– there’s no way of telling whether anything he said would be honest, and anyway, he’s almost impressively bad with words. No, Sokka needs to collect information in a slightly more… discreet fashion. Preferably when Zuko’s guard is down.

Problem is, Zuko’s guard is almost never down.

Which is how Sokka ended up crouched awkwardly behind a stone pillar, watching the Fire Prince meditate.

…It had seemed like a better idea in his head.

In Sokka’s defense, how was he supposed to know that it would be so boring? He’d assumed the guy was sneaking off to do something nefarious, but no. Apparently he really does just sit and breathe for hours at a time.

Zuko’s eyes are closed, and his face is angled towards the sunlight shining through the temple’s ancient pillars. He looks… peaceful. The thought startles Sokka, a bit– it’s not a word he would’ve ever imagined associating with the Fire Prince.

Unbidden, Sokka’s gaze lands on the scar marring the side of Zuko’s face closest to him.

He’d never really given it much thought before; Zuko had worn it from the very first day he’d come stomping into their lives with an ugly ponytail and flaming fists, and his face had always just been his face.

But now, with Zuko’s role shifting from ‘evil enemy’ into something more like ‘suspicious grouchy companion,’ it first occurs to Sokka that there must have been a time that Zuko’s face was unscarred. For an epiphany, it’s stupidly obvious, but it still leaves him unsettled. He wonders vaguely if Zuko was less grouchy before the scar.

It must have really hurt, he realizes suddenly–

–Aaand, that’s enough of that line of thought. Who cares if it hurt? This is still his enemy. Sort of. Maybe.

Ugh.

In an attempt to do anything other than continue thinking about the burn, Sokka finally gives up on the pretense of spying and ducks out from behind his pillar, taking a moment to brace himself before heading towards Zuko. This whole ‘information gathering’ session has been a bust, so he might as well just ask the guy some questions to his face. Can’t hurt, right?

Sneaking up on an ashmaker seems like a bad idea, so he purposely lets his steps fall heavy to announce his presence, but Zuko doesn’t open his eyes. Sokka can’t help feeling a faint stab of annoyance at the lack of acknowledgement– he’s an experienced older brother, which means he’s been pointedly ignored enough times in his life to know when it’s happening.

Luckily, he also knows how to stop it. With a long-suffering eye roll, he reaches out and shakes Zuko’s shoulder. “Hey, man–”

Zuko’s eyes instantly snap open, and before Sokka’s hand has even had time to withdraw, the Firebender has flung himself an arm’s length away, his stance offensive and his palms alight with flame. Sokka’s hand flies to his boomerang, a call of warning to the others forming on his lips– he hadn't expected Zuko to show his true colors so suddenly, but he’s by no means unprepared for it. If the jerk wants a fight, then that's what he'll get.

Zuko’s eyes widen, and his fire extinguishes instantly. His posture shifts to something verging on subservient. “I’m sorry,” he gets out quickly, and Sokka nearly drops his boomerang in shock. “You startled me. I wasn’t trying to attack you.”

“Yeah, right,” Sokka snaps, thrown entirely off kilter by the sudden shift in mood. His heart is still hammering in his chest, battle-ready. “I wasn’t exactly quiet!”

Zuko’s face goes bright red, and he looks away. When he speaks a moment later, his words sound as though they’re being physically dragged out of him. “My hearing is… poor. On that side.”

Oh.

Well.

Sokka feels like an ass.

This whole terrible, horrible, no-good interaction had only started because he’d been trying to stop thinking about that stupid scar, and not only had he failed disastrously at that, he’d also somehow managed to miss the misshapen ear in the midst of it despite his staring. Spirits, now that he’s looking, it’s obvious– the thing looks half melted.

Now that he’s thinking about it, he’d bet his own weight in seal jerky that Zuko can’t see much on that side, either.

Sokka lowers his boomerang.

Zuko doesn’t shift out of that strange, subservient posture– Sokka wonders briefly if he realizes he’s allowed to– but he seems to relax, just slightly.

“Right,” Sokka says, finally, once it becomes clear Zuko has nothing more to add and the silence has evolved from awkward into unbearable. “Sorry about that, I guess. I’ll… be more careful not to approach from that side.”

Something like panic flares in Zuko’s expression, as though Sokka has just expressed his vicious intent to leverage this weakness for all it’s worth. “No, don't do that.”

Sokka… isn’t following. “What?”

“Don’t act any differently towards me. I don’t want the others to notice it,” Zuko says, and this admission seems just as painful as the first one. Any ounce of peacefulness lingering from his meditation session is long gone; his eyes are darting to the edge of the temple like he’s seriously considering hurling himself over rather than enduring this conversation.

“Why?” Sokka asks, and his confusion seems to set Zuko further on edge, as though he’s being deliberately obtuse, which annoys Sokka right back. They scowl at each other.

“It’s a weakness,” Zuko snaps, like that’s answer enough. The word makes Sokka bristle, though he can’t explain why. It’s true, isn’t it? It is a weakness, a disadvantage in a fight, especially if his vision is poor on that side, too. But something about the way Zuko spits the word ‘weakness’ sounds different than how Sokka’s ever meant it. There’s shame in his tone, like the word he really means is failure.

“Right,” Sokka agrees irritably, when Zuko doesn’t elaborate. “So, doesn’t that seem like exactly the sort of thing they should know about?”

Zuko hunches into himself as though Sokka’s just delivered a death sentence. “I guess that isn't up to me,” he grits out.

“I don't get you, man,” Sokka despairs, shaking his head. “I'm trying to be nice.”

“How is it nice to use this against me?” Zuko bursts out, his hands clenching into angry fists at his sides.

“What are you talking about?” Sokka demands, exasperated. “In case you forgot, I said I was going to do the opposite of that and not creep up on you from that side anymore!”

“Making my weakness obvious to anyone who wants to see, including your sister, who, in case you forgot, still wants me dead!” Zuko shouts.

Sokka blinks. Mentally rehashes this whole conversation, and realizes with a sinking feeling where he’s gone wrong. “Zuko. Buddy. My goal here isn’t to expose your ‘weakness’ so Katara can attack you better. My goal is to not accidentally sneak up on you while you’re meditating.”

Zuko eyes him dubiously. “If your intentions are really so noble, then it shouldn’t be a problem to not tell the others.”

“I mean, I guess?” Sokka throws up his hands in exasperation. He doesn’t know if simply not using an ally's disability against them counts as being ‘noble,’ but whatever, not the issue at hand. “But I also think they probably wouldn't want to accidentally sneak up and scare the fire out of you?”

“I’ll control my reaction better in the future,” Zuko says stiffly after a long moment, which, while great, is not really what Sokka meant at all.

“Look, you’re on our side now, right?” Sokka asks, and barely waits for Zuko’s nod before pressing on. “That makes us a team. And teams look out for each other. If we’re ever in a fight together, it might be good for them to know to guard your left.”

“I can handle myself,” Zuko snaps, though he looks more puzzled than angry now. But his voice is still decidedly guarded, like he’s sure he’s being insulted even if he doesn’t quite know how.

“Yeah, obviously. We’ve fought with you often enough to know that. Just like Katara’s wiped the floor with you enough times that you know she doesn’t need any dirty tricks to do it again,” Sokka points out.

Weirdly, this borderline threat is the first thing that seems to make Zuko relax. He’s so confusing.

“I guess it’d be fine for you to approach from my right,” Zuko finally agrees, in a tone of great suffering, as though he’s doing Sokka a favor. “Just… Don’t be obvious about it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sokka snaps petulantly, expecting the prince to be irritated by it. Zuko, who is apparently dead set on being the most infuriatingly unpredictable person alive, snorts.

It’s so weird that Zuko is here, Sokka thinks again. It isn’t quite as hostile a thought as it had been.

~

While the Gaang sits around the campfire eating dinner that night, Sokka can’t stop himself from staring at Zuko.

In the soft light of the flames, his features don’t look so harsh and scowl-y. In fact, now Sokka’s paying attention, he really isn't scowling at all. It’s the scar, twisting one half of his face into perpetual harshness. Sokka wonders what it must be like to look cruel even when you mean to be kind.

“This soup is great, Katara!” Aang’s chipper voice pipes up from across the fire, pulling Sokka out of his thoughts.

Katara blushes, accepting the pot from Aang and pouring herself seconds. “Thank you, Aang. That’s sweet.”

“Could use a bit more meat, though,” Sokka puts in, just to annoy Katara– it’s his solemn duty as a brother, and he takes it seriously. Predictably, she sticks her tongue out at him, using a tendril of water from her pouch to smack him lightly in the back of the head.

“Nah, I agree with Twinkletoes. I mean, the soup looks great to me!” Toph agrees.

“Oh, thank–” Katara cuts off, her eyes narrowing. “Wait.”

Toph cackles.

Still shaking her head, Katara passes the pot to her right, where Zuko sits. When he makes no move to take it, still staring intently into the fire, the slight smile that had lingered on her lips drops off into a scowl. She shoves the pot more fully towards him, ending up inches from his face.

Inches from the left side of his face.

Sokka’s stomach twists in anticipation.

In the same moment, Zuko jolts up from his seat into a defensive stance, fists fireless but clenched so tightly his knuckles have gone white.

Katara’s frown goes sharp with anger, and the soup pot falls from her grip as she drops into a battle-ready posture. Her hands rise, and a trail of water follows in their wake, flowing out of her pouch and swirling around her protectively.

Zuko’s eyes widen, and he begins to shrink down apologetically, just like he had this morning, but Katara is speaking before he can get a word out.

“How dare you?” she demands, eyes icy and furious.

Aang has stood up, too, glancing between them warily. “Katara, I don’t think–”

“No!” she cuts him off, whirling on him. “I’m so sick of everyone bending over backwards to defend him! Have you all magically forgotten all the awful things he did to us?”

“Here we go again,” Toph grumbles.

“Of course not, Katara, but this wasn’t that,” Sokka finally speaks up. He knows how much it cost Katara to allow Zuko to stay, knows she hasn’t gotten a full night’s sleep since the prince first showed up, and it hurts that he can’t be on her side right now. But he also knows this wasn’t Zuko’s fault.

“How can you say that?” she demands, angry tears shining in her eyes, and Sokka aches at the sight of them. “He just– he tried to attack me!”

“No he didn’t. Katara, listen, he can't–” the words ‘see out of that eye’ shrivel up and die in Sokka’s throat as Zuko’s face turns ashen with panic. “–be a source of conflict forever,” he finishes with only a slight pause. “We have to get past this eventually.”

“You’re saying that like I’m the problem!” she cries, her face going slack with betrayal. “Everything was fine before he got here!”

“Sure, just peachy, except for the fact that Twinkletoes didn’t know the first thing about Firebending,” Toph retorts. “But I guess beating the Firelord isn’t as important as your hurt feelings.”

“Toph–” Sokka begins to chide her, but Zuko beats him to it.

“Katara is right,” he says quickly, his words tight and careful. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I’m sorry, Katara.”

Katara finally lowers her arms, allowing the water to return to the pouch by her side, visibly stymied if not yet placated. “Hmph. At least you admit it.”

“...Can we go back to dinner now?” Aang asks hopefully.

Katara’s eyes widen in renewed anger, and she whirls on Zuko again, ignoring his slight flinch backwards. “You made me drop my soup!”

“I’m sorry,” Zuko repeats, looking miserable. “Forgive me.”

“Calm down, Sugar Queen,” Toph cuts in irritably. “You poured yourself a bowl right before you dropped the pot.”

“Well… what if I wanted seconds?” Katara huffs, though she’s clearly flagging.

“Um,” Aang says tentatively. “That bowl was seconds.”

Katara sighs. “Fine,” she relents. “Then… you’re forgiven, I guess. For this.”

“Thank you,” Zuko breathes, offering a slight bow of gratitude before flushing as he seems to remember he’s surrounded by scraggly teenagers rather than esteemed diplomats.

Toph cackles. “Did you just bow to her?”

Zuko’s flush grows darker. “...No.”

“Lie,” Toph sing-songs gleefully.

“I forgot I was in the presence of a human lie-detector,” Zuko groans, burying his head in his hands.

Sokka laughs, moving to pat Zuko comfortingly on the back before realizing abruptly that touching him when he can’t see may not be a good idea. “You get used to it,” he says instead, withdrawing his hand.

Katara watches the aborted movement with narrowed eyes, but Sokka can’t quite tell what she’s thinking.

~

“Zuko.”

Katara’s voice sounds from a room nearby, echoing down the hall and cutting sharply through the temple’s silence. Sokka knows it isn’t any of his business, but he still can't help himself from creeping closer to overhear whatever conversation comes next. He doesn’t dare peek his head around the corner to watch them, knowing he’d get caught in an instant if he tried it. Instead, he lingers in the hallway, waiting for Zuko’s response.

“...Yes?” Zuko answers at length, tentative enough that Sokka has to strain to hear him.

“I wanted to, um…” Katara coughs slightly. “Apologize. For last night.”

“Oh.” The single word sounds like it’s been punched out of Zuko, and though Sokka is very carefully not peeking around the corner to see, he can easily picture the guy squirming under Katara’s gaze. “You, uh, don’t have to do that?”

“Don’t tell me what I need to do,” Katara says sharply. There’s a moment of silence before Sokka hears her sigh. “Sorry. I’m just… still having trouble wrapping my head around all this.”

“Me too, sometimes,” Zuko admits. Another silence stretches before he speaks again. “And you really don’t have to apologize. I think we both know that, out of the two of us, you aren’t the one who should be sorry.”

“Yeah, well, just because you’re an angry jerk doesn't mean I have to be one,” Katara huffs. Then, more quietly, “I really am a good person, you know.”

“I know,” Zuko says, and sounds like he means it. “...I’m sorry I make it hard for you to be one.”

“I don't get you,” Katara says, and Sokka can hear her frown. “You say things like that, and sometimes you seem… I don’t know. Decent. But you were so awful to us for such a long time. I mean, Aang had nightmares about you. A kid who’s had his whole nation slaughtered, who’s nearly died a dozen times, who’s supposed to fight the scariest man in the world, and you were the bad guy in his dreams.”

“I’m so sorry–”

“No, I know. You’ve said that,” Katara says, a bit harshly. “I don’t need to hear it again. I’m asking why.”

There’s a long moment of quiet, in which Sokka barely breathes for fear of missing the answer, before Zuko’s voice comes. “I thought it was the only way to restore my honor. I was wrong.”

“You and your honor…” Katara trails off. “What is that? That obsession?”

“Honor is important in the Fire Nation,” Zuko says. Katara must be making some sort of face, because he sighs. “I guess that’s probably hard for you to believe.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Katara scoffs.

“I know that most of my people don’t seem honorable. But our honor is more about…” Zuko breaks off, struggling for words, and it’s only then that Sokka realizes this is more than he’s ever heard him speak at one time. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I don’t need honor explained to me,” Katara says sharply.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t.” There’s something old and sad in Zuko’s voice that Sokka doesn’t quite understand.

“...But I guess you can anyway,” Katara offers, softer, and Sokka wonders what must have been on his face that made her change her mind.

Zuko sighs again. “To me, honor is about doing what’s right. It isn’t about what you want, it’s about what the people around you need. It’s about being loyal and respectful and brave, and never doing needless harm.”

“If that’s what honor means to you,” Katara begins, and the frustration has returned to her voice, “then why did you chase a twelve year old pacifist across the world?”

“I was told it was what I needed to do,” Zuko says, sounding lost. “By someone who I believed to be honorable.”

“But you just said honor is about doing what’s right. You must have known that wasn’t right.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Then, “I knew it didn’t feel right. But I always told myself that if I knew the first thing about honor, I would still be home.”

“I don’t understand,” Katara says.

“I didn’t, either.”

Sokka feels like he’s beginning to.

~

It isn’t until the next day that Sokka realizes he has been missing a very obvious opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: 1) learn how to fight Firebenders in combat, and 2) befriend the evil shouty Fire Prince who isn’t actually all that evil or shouty after all.

“So I’ve been thinking,” he begins when they’re all settled down in the main room for breakfast.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Toph pipes up obligingly.

He ignores her. “I’ve been thinking,” he emphasizes, “that we should be taking more advantage of the fact that we have a resident jerkbender now.”

“I don’t know, Sokka,” Aang pants from across the room, sinking into another hot squat, “I think we’re using him plenty! Maybe more than enough!”

“You owe me an extra two hot squats for that comment,” Zuko calls over, before turning to Sokka with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I want to spar with you!” Sokka says, and it comes out sounding like a whine. He coughs, then continues in a lower voice: “I want to know how to combat your Firebending moves.”

Katara’s face is drawn and cautious. “I don’t know, Sokka…”

“No, just think!” he insists, too committed to his plan to be dissuaded. “It would be good practice, for when I have to fight other, jerkier jerkbenders later on. Plus, you can heal me if anything goes wrong.”

Now Katara looks more irritated than concerned. “Right, sure! Just volunteer me to clean up your mess! Not like I need to be using my energy on training the Avatar, or anything.”

“I knew you’d understand!” Sokka says gleefully, expertly ducking the water she sends towards his head.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Zuko speaks up, looking a bit grim.

Sokka blinks. It… hadn’t really occurred to him that Zuko would need more convincing than Katara. “Come on,” he presses, “don’t you want to throw fireballs at me?”

Toph snorts. “He makes a good point.”

Katara is nodding, the traitor. “I’m sold.”

He shoots them both wounded looks before turning his attention back to Zuko. “Please?”

Zuko sighs, looking skyward for a long moment. “Fine,” he agrees finally. “We’ll start tonight.”

“But Sifu Hotman,” Aang calls, giving up on his hot squats and riding over on an air scooter, “I thought you said Firebending is strongest at sunrise?”

“Which is exactly why we won’t be doing it then,” Zuko explains. “I don’t want to actually hurt him.”

“Suit yourself,” Toph shrugs, before sending a pebble flying at Sokka.

“Hey!”

~

After dinner that night, Sokka enters the training courtyard to find Zuko already waiting. He’s buzzing with excitement and a fair amount of nerves. This had been his idea, he knows, but he’s seen enough ash that fire will probably always be a little bit terrifying to him.

Zuko approaches him cautiously. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” Sokka insists, and finds himself grateful that only one member of their little group can detect lies automatically.

“Fine,” Zuko agrees. “We’ll start with some basic katas that you’re likely to encounter in battle.” He gestures for Sokka to stand back, then drops down to a more combative stance. He moves forward, pushing his fists forward sharply and releasing bursts of fire in varied size and intensity. “That’s a fire fist. It’s one of the most basic battle moves, so you’ll probably see it a lot.”

Sokka nods slowly. “Anything I can do to defend myself, other than dodge?”

“If you have your sword, you can use that to block the worst of the blast,” Zuko tells him, then winces. “Though that would only work for weaker benders. The fans the Kyoshi warriors use are better for that sort of thing. Otherwise, you can just try to duck it like a normal punch, or grab the arm and redirect the fire.”

“Right,” Sokka nods. “Sword, duck, or grab.”

Zuko nods. “Pretty much.”

“Great!” Sokka claps his hands together, trying to look more confident than he feels. “Let’s try it, then.”

“Fine,” Zuko agrees, lowering himself into the same crouching stance from before. “Ready?”

Sokka has barely finished his nod before a hand shoots out in a familiar burst. Adrenaline spiking, he manages to grab the arm and fling it gracelessly over his shoulder, wincing as he prepares for the heat of a flame behind him. But it doesn’t come.

“Good,” Zuko says, withdrawing. “And putting it over your shoulder like that gives you more leverage, so you can flip me if you know how. But keep in mind that you end up closer than you want to be to my hand– you still risk getting singed.”

“But,” Sokka sputters, “there was no fire!”

Zuko’s face wrinkles in confusion. “Well, yeah. We’re practicing. I’m not just gonna shoot fire at you before we’ve even covered the basics!”

Sokka is speechless. “Zuko. Buddy,” he manages. “You spent, like, six months shooting fire at me.”

“I never hit you, though,” Zuko snaps, crossing his arms.

Sokka winces. Awkward. “Okay, true, but that doesn’t mean that you’re bad at combat! It’ll still be super useful to go over the basics with fire, even if you don’t think you can hit me.”

A very strange expression crosses Zuko’s face, gone before Sokka can even begin to decipher it. “Right. Well, we’ll get there. But not yet.”

Sokka groans.

~

Hours have passed, Sokka is exhausted, and Zuko hasn’t even lit a single spark yet.

“Come on,” he finally insists, not bothering to smother the frustration in his voice. “I’m ready.”

Zuko breathes heavily. “Tell me the three main katas you need to know.”

“Fire fist, fire knives, and fire streams,” Sokka lists tonelessly. “Fire streams are the most dangerous at a distance, fire knives are the most dangerous up close, and fire fists are the most common attack.”

“Good,” Zuko admits grudgingly, strangely hesitant. “Alright. We can start practicing with fire, if you’re sure you’re ready.”

Sokka’s heart rate picks up, and he drops into a crouch, prepared to leap to avoid jets of flame. “Good! Yes! Yes, I’m ready.”

A single nod is all the warning he gets before Zuko is moving. His hand shoots forward, and Sokka recognizes the movement– fire fist. He quickly ducks down and darts behind Zuko’s back, kneeing his leg from behind to knock him off balance as the fire shoots forward uselessly.

“Good work,” Zuko calls, turning to face him again.

Grinning, Sokka dances away. “That all you got?”

Zuko’s lip tilts up into a smirk. He yanks his hands up in synchronized movement, and Sokka is prepared for the blades of fire that follow, but woah, he hadn’t quite expected them to look like actual blades? Shaking off the surprise, he remembers his lesson that the fire blades might look solid, but they still can’t block objects– he swings his sword forward, straight through them, forcing Zuko to dart back or risk getting sliced.

“Geez, if this is all the Fire Nation has to offer, the next invasion will be a breeze!” Sokka snarks, feeling his blood pump. He feels more alive than he has in weeks.

Zuko jerks back a few steps, pulling his hands back and shoving them forward like he’s pushing something, and Sokka ducks and rolls away from the fire stream before it comes. He army-crawls forward, knowing the thick blaze hides him from Zuko’s gaze, and grabs his ankles, bringing him down hard. He springs up after, dancing back out of Zuko’s range.

“Come on, I know you can be faster than that!” Sokka calls, grinning. “Don’t hold back on me, now.”

Zuko smiles back before pulling his fists back– fire fist– and releasing several bursts of flame, one after the other, and Sokka’s smile drops. Blocking one was easy enough, but it takes all his concentration to avoid the quick successive blasts.

Zuko seems to notice his struggle, and the blaze stops instantly. The air suddenly feels too cold without the flame. “We can come back to this another night, Sokka. We’ve covered a lot of ground already.”

“No,” Sokka growls, something like frustration roiling suddenly under his skin as the memory of the last failed invasion snags at him. He has to be ready. He has to be better. “Keep going.”

“Sokka–”

Zuko doesn’t have time to finish his thoughts before Sokka is moving again, slashing his sword forward and forcing him back. He won't take no for an answer. Not about this. “Come on, Zuko!”

A bit cautiously, slower than Sokka knows he needs to, Zuko brings his hands up for a fire stream, and Sokka ducks and rolls. The heat of the flame is more muted than last time, and when he rises he's nearly spitting with anger. "Don't go easy on me! Come on, I can take it."

Still looking uncertain, Zuko raises one hand for a fire blade, but right as Sokka moves to cut through it, his other hand pulls back for a fist of fire.

All the anger and adrenaline seep out of Sokka in a single instant, and the only clear thought on his mind is, shit, why didn’t I think of combo moves?

He tries to dodge, but he knows even as he moves that he won’t be quick enough.

The blast grazes his shoulder, and a strangled cry escapes him; Zuko is at his side, flames extinguished, before the sound has even fully left his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko is saying, a little frantic. “Are you okay? Let me see.”

Sokka is not okay. He's humiliated. Of course he couldn’t handle an experienced Firebender after one session. Zuko had tried to warn him, and he’d– he’d pushed–

“Sokka, you need to let me see–”

“Oh,” Sokka murmurs, feeling strangely disconnected from his body. He can’t feel the soreness of his muscles, pushed past their limit, can’t feel the sting on his knees where they’d slid across the stone floor, can’t feel the nipping cold of the night air around them. All he feels is his shoulder. And it burns.

Gentle hands are on his arm and back, tilting him to get a better view while giving his wound a wide berth. “We should get Katara.”

That brings Sokka partway back into himself, and he sucks in a breath. “Is it bad, then?”

“It’s a burn,” Zuko snaps, like that’s answer enough, then visibly reigns himself in. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… Sokka, I’m sorry.”

There’s something a lot like fear in Zuko’s voice, and it’s enough to make Sokka shake the shame away and start functioning again. “What? No, dude, this isn’t your fault. I’m the one who wanted to spar.”

“But I never meant– I shouldn’t have burned you,” Zuko insists, staring at his own hands like they’re something traitorous and foreign.

“You didn’t mean to, right?” Sokka asks, fighting a wince as he turns to look at Zuko. His burn hurts– it, shit, it really hurts– but he tries to keep his focus where it’s needed.

Zuko’s eyes widen, and he stumbles back half a step. “What– No! Of course not!”

“Then it’s okay,” Sokka says, forcing his voice to come out soothing. He doesn’t entirely understand Zuko’s sheer, raw panic, but he knows he dislikes it on a visceral level, and that’s enough to keep him talking. “You don’t need to freak out over this.”

“I should have had better control,” Zuko insists, sounding furious.

“Look, Zuko, it really is okay,” Sokka repeats. “I’m sure Katara will be able to heal it.” He hopes, anyway. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to look, but his shoulder erupts with pain at every slight movement. It feels bad. A burn isn’t like any other type of hurt, he’s realizing quickly. It’s something else entirely.

“Yeah,” Zuko swallows. “Of course. It’ll be fine once she heals it.”

Sokka tries not to look too relieved. “That’s good to hear, honestly. I mean, don’t get me wrong, a giant burn scar would be pretty badass… But I’ll still take the magic healing water instead.”

Zuko frowns, still looking pale and nervous. “What? No– that isn’t deep enough to scar. I mean, maybe, if you let it get infected–” he breaks himself off. “Sorry. That doesn’t matter. I’ll be back with Katara.”

“Right,” Sokka agrees weakly to his turned back. But the words have made something cold wash over him, in spite of his burn. For it to hurt so badly… and Zuko still doesn’t think it would scar?

How much must it hurt to be scarred by fire?

To be mutilated? Blinded?

Sokka hopes he never finds out.

~

“How’s that feel?” Katara asks gently, withdrawing her magic healing hands from his shoulder.

Sokka blinks. It feels… fine. Better than fine, actually– the soreness from when he’d landed awkwardly on his shoulder while ducking earlier has vanished along with everything else. He tentatively rolls the arm, searching for any protest, but none comes. “It feels great. That is some good water.”

“And by that, I assume you mean a good sister?” Katara asks, folding her arms. Her grouchiness at being awoken is coming back full-force now that his pain is gone. “Who you owe some serious favors to?”

Sokka winces exaggeratedly, pretending to sag. “Ahh– actually, you know what, I think the burn is back. I should probably be exempt from chore duty for the next few days– you know. Just to be safe.”

Katara reaches out to slap his shoulder.

“Ow!”

She shrugs. “Feels fine to me.” Getting to her feet, she shoots both of them a final warning look. “Next time, maybe you can do the whole shooting-fire-at-each-other thing at a time when I won’t have to wake up to deal with it?”

“In fairness, he was the only one shooting fire–”

“Of course, Katara. Sorry for waking you,” Zuko says respectfully. He’s calmed down since before, but there’s still an odd rigidness to him that Sokka really dislikes.

She softens a bit, then looks annoyed at herself for softening for the Fire Prince. “Hm,” is all she says before leaving.

“Sooo,” Sokka begins.

Zuko’s tension rackets up another few notches, but he doesn’t speak.

“Why were you so freaked out about this?” Sokka asks, a bit more gently.

“I know it was undignified,” Zuko says immediately, almost before Sokka is done speaking, like he was already anticipating being criticized. “I just…” his voice gets quieter. “I’ve never really burned anyone before.”

“Oh,” Sokka says, a bit stumped, and Zuko tenses up even further. Sokka makes the executive decision to quit trying to have a heart-to-heart that’s clearly equally miserable for both of them, and smiles widely instead. “Well, I’m honored to be your first!”

“You–” Zuko breaks off, mouth wide.

“No, really, it’s a big milestone!” Sokka reaches out and pats Zuko amicably on the back. “Thanks for letting me be a part of it, buddy.”

Zuko looks… baffled. “I’m going to bed,” he says, slowly, as though he isn’t convinced he’s not already dreaming.

“Goodnight!” Sokka calls after him cheerfully as he leaves.

And now he’s alone, and a few different pieces slot together in his mind.

Because here’s the thing: Zuko isn’t a bad fighter. He’s seen him spar with the Avatar and win enough times to be certain of that.

And yet…

“I never hit you, though.”

“I’ve never really burned anyone before.”

Sokka thinks about honor and fire, and how much burns hurt, and how big Zuko’s scar is.

So.

Maybe the Fire Prince really is pretty decent.

~

“Shopping day!”

Sokka jolts awake as tiny, eager hands grab him by the shoulders. He blinks blearily, and Aang’s beaming face begins to come into focus.

“Wha'?” he manages.

“Katara said we’re low on supplies and there’s a town nearby which means today is a shopping day!” Aang is so excited that the whole sentence comes out like one long word.

“Oh!” Sokka wakes up a bit more. He isn’t as excitable as Aang, but… “It’ll be nice to get to eat meat that I don’t have to kill myself!”

Aang’s ecstatic smile falters slightly at the thought of animals being killed, and Katara, somehow sensing his mistake from across the room, shoots Sokka a pointed glare.

“I second that, Snoozles,” Toph agrees, either oblivious to or unbothered by Aang’s distress. “It’s been way too long since I’ve had real, authentic turtleduck.”

Zuko makes a strange, choking noise, and all eyes turn to him. He flushes. “Sorry. I… forgot you guys eat turtleduck in the Earth Kingdom.”

Toph sits up, sensing teasing ammunition like a barricuda-shark smelling blood. “And… you don’t eat them in the Fire Nation?”

Zuko’s blush grows. “...Some people do.”

“But you don’t?”

“...No.”

Toph is grinning like it’s her birthday. “And why not?”

“What supplies do we need?” Zuko asks, desperately trying to change the subject.

“No way you’re getting out of this that easy,” Toph cackles.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Aang puts in, crossing his arms. “I don’t like eating turtleducks either.” His eyes go big and sad. “They’re just so cute.”

Toph’s jaw drops open, and she turns to Zuko, overjoyed. “That’s why you don’t eat them! You think they’re cute!”

“No I don’t!”

“Lie!” Toph shouts gleefully.

“Don’t be mean to him!” Aang pleads, clearly overjoyed to have an ally in his no-turtleduck-eating corner. “They are cute!”

Sokka pinches himself to make sure he isn’t still sleeping.

Zuko visibly considers throwing himself off the cliff face.

“Okay!” Katara stands up, mercifully drawing attention to herself, though she’s also fighting a smile. “The town we’re going to is called West Heiatu. It’s about a twenty minute walk.”

“I’ll stay with Appa,” Zuko volunteers, his face suddenly grim.

Sokka frowns. “You don’t want to come to town with us?”

“Aww, we promise we’ll keep you away from the turtleduck-kebab stands!” Toph jokes, but her brow is furrowed. Sokka wonders what she’s sensing from his heartbeat.

“I can’t go to West Heiatu,” Zuko says, voice low and prickly. “It’s a colony town.”

“...So?” Katara asks, suspicious.

“So, I’m a wanted traitor of the Fire Nation,” Zuko forces the words out like they hurt to say.

Sokka is unimpressed. “Yeah, buddy, get in line. We’re all wanted by the Fire Nation.”

“It’s too risky,” Zuko insists, not meeting any of their eyes.

“Lighten up,” Sokka says, disliking the strange tension in Zuko’s posture. “If the Avatar can prance across the Fire Nation without being recognized, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“He’s right!” Aang agrees helpfully. “I do do a lot of prancing. And I only get caught, like, half the time!”

Zuko looks seconds away from exploding. “The Avatar can hide his arrows with a hat,” he grinds out. “My face is a bit more distinctive.”

Oh.

Right.

Shit.

Aang shifts uncomfortably, like he’s stopping himself from launching a hug at Zuko only through sheer force of will. Even Katara looks a little abashed.

Toph narrows her eyes. “Are you guys doing some weird sighted person thing right now?”

Sokka realizes with a stab of guilt that she’s been kept out of the loop. He opens his mouth to explain, but falters. What can he say?

“I have a giant burn scar on my face,” Zuko tells her flatly. “It’s pretty recognizable.”

“Oh,” Toph says, her eyes widening slightly. Then she gathers herself. “Well, you can’t be the only person with a scarred face. We’re in a war. Loads of people have been hurt.”

Zuko’s hands clench into fists at his side, and he closes his eyes with what looks like tremendous effort. His next exhale is lit with sparks.

Can he breathe fire? Sokka wonders a bit frantically. Is that a thing Firebenders can do?

“I look about as Fire Nation as someone can look,” Zuko says finally, his words tight and carefully measured. “It would be different if I could pass for Earth Kingdom. But everyone knows what a burn like this means on an ashmaker.”

Despite having used the insult himself plenty of times, something still lurches uncomfortably in Sokka’s gut when Zuko calls himself an ashmaker. There’s a certain vitriol behind it that makes him feel strangely guilty.

“What does it mean?” Katara asks cautiously.

Zuko looks around at all of them, and his face shutters. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, a bit coldly. “I’ll stay with Appa. Have fun in town.”

“Well,” Sokka says absently as soon as he’s out of sight, “that went well.”

He catches Aang’s eye, and for a moment there’s a terrible, pained understanding on the kid’s face, so old and sad that Sokka almost opens his mouth to ask– and then it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Maybe he’ll feel better if we bring him back something to eat!” Aang offers, his brightness a bit more forced than usual. “Just… Nothing cute.”

Toph cackles.

~

The temple doesn’t have doors. It might be a free-spirit airbender 'no boundaries' thing, or they might have all been burned away in one of the raids a hundred years ago, and Sokka has never quite known how to ask those sorts of things, so he’s never gotten an answer.

Point is, no doors.

But it still feels weirdly impolite to just… barge in without an invitation. So when Sokka approaches the room Zuko sleeps in, he makes sure to walk extra loudly, whistling as he goes, and pauses outside the entryway to knock on the wall next to it. “Knock, knock,” he says aloud, just to cover all his bases.

Zuko is lying back on his bedroll with a pained look on his face. “You don’t have to do that.”

Sokka frowns. “Say ‘knock, knock?’”

“No, the–” Zuko cuts himself off with a hiss, passing a hand roughly over his face. When he pulls it back, his expression is blank. “The stomping. Being loud on purpose. You don’t have to do that. I get you don’t want to sneak up on me, but…”

“I get it,” Sokka tells him quietly, and even though there’s no way he could get it, he sort of thinks he does. “I’ll stop.”

Zuko breathes out heavily, then sits up to face him more fully. “How was the market?”

It was… great, actually, with so many kind people and good food and shiny swords to look at– but there had also been a poster with Zuko’s scarred, angry face glaring out from it, twisted into something fierce and violent, with the words ‘wanted dead or alive’ written on top and the Fire Lord’s seal stamped on the bottom.

Katara had pulled him aside and handed it to him, her eyes sad and grim, and they’d torn it up before Aang could see. For the first and only time in his life, Sokka had briefly wished he were a Firebender so he could burn the stupid thing until only ashes were left and no one could get Zuko’s face so wrong again.

So.

“It was alright,” Sokka says.

Zuko snorts, but doesn’t call him on the lie.

Sokka shouldn’t press. He really, really shouldn’t, but he’s curious, and maybe a little worried, and he thinks they’re maybe-sort-of starting to become friends. “What does it mean?” he asks.

Zuko doesn’t pretend to misunderstand the question. His hand flies up to his face for a moment, and hovers there, and it occurs to Sokka that it fits the shape of the scar pretty closely–

But he won’t ask. Not that question.

“It means I’m dishonored,” Zuko says finally, his voice hoarse.

Sokka remembers the conversation he’d overheard with Katara and thinks about what it must mean for a boy who’d spent months shouting about honor to be told he’s without it. “By who?”

Zuko shrugs. “My home.”

And that… could mean a lot of things, really. But Sokka has pushed this far enough, and Zuko is staring at the wall like he isn’t quite seeing it, or maybe like he’s seeing a different wall, in a different time, and Sokka wants his grouchy awkward maybe-sort-of friend back.

“We bought you moose-alo jerky,” he says, keeping his voice carefully light. “It isn’t quite like the seal jerky we have in the South Pole, but… it’s good anyway.”

Zuko doesn’t smile, but his focus finally lands on Sokka. “Thanks.”

“We’ll be out by the fire if you feel like joining,” Sokka adds. He’s turning to leave before it suddenly occurs to him to remember every single thing he knows about Zuko, and he should probably clarify: “That means we want you there, by the way.”

Zuko’s eyes widen with surprise that’s a little too obvious, and Sokka is learning that Zuko doesn’t know how to hide a single thing he’s feeling. It’s funny, in retrospect, that he’d ever thought he was lying to earn the group’s trust.

He shoots him a final soft smile before turning to head back to the fire.

~

Sokka had hoped Zuko would follow.

That isn’t to say he isn’t stunned when Zuko does.

“Hey,” Zuko greets them awkwardly as he emerges from the sleeping area into the main room, where they’re all crowded around a fire. “Did you guys get anything good?”

“Yeah!” Aang pipes up, looking even more thrilled to see Zuko than he’d been that morning at the idea of a shopping spree. Which is to say, ecstatic. “I wish you could have come, it would have been so much more fun. Are you hungry? Katara made dinner! We got so much cool stuff, I even got this cool lemur whistle! I don’t think it actually works, or maybe Momo is just ignoring me, but it’s shaped like a lemur, see? Look at the ears!”

Zuko blinks, clearly trying to decide which part of that he should respond to. “Nice,” he settles on.

Aang beams.

“Here, I made stew,” Katara hands him a bowl. Sokka smiles at her, appreciating the gesture. The pair aren’t exactly friendly yet, but it’s nice to see Katara give up on fighting the compassion that’s been so clearly trying to rear its head every time she argues with Zuko.

“Thank you,” Zuko says, smiling slightly. It looks a little strange on his face, and it occurs to Sokka suddenly that Zuko never really smiles. We’ll have to change that, he decides.

“And I got you fire flakes!” Aang adds exuberantly, holding them out. “My friend Kuzon really liked them.”

The little small falls off Zuko’s face, replaced by something a little stunned and infinitely softer. He tentatively reaches out to grab the flakes, cautious like he’s not sure he’s really allowed.

Aang looks thrilled at Zuko’s reaction, and the urge to hug that he’s obviously been holding back all day finally wins. He launches himself at Zuko, who startles back a step or two, but accepts his fate quickly when he’s wrapped tightly in scrawny airbender arms.

Zuko doesn’t look like he quite knows what to do with himself. After a long few moments, he carefully places his arms on Aang’s back, patting awkwardly. He looks almost unbearably gentle, in a way Sokka is still getting used to.

“Aww,” Katara coos, half-teasing and half-gushing.

“Quit being gross and start eating these snacks with me!” Toph calls from across the fire, already digging into their stash.

“Yeah, I want to try one of these fire flakes!” Sokka agrees, already reaching for them. “I got you jerky. It’s only fair.”

Zuko shrugs, popping a few into his own mouth and holding the box out so Sokka can grab some. “They were my favorite snack when I was a kid.”

Interesting, Sokka has time to think, before his thoughts are overwhelmed with oh Tui hot hot hot hothothot why–

“They might be a little spicy if you aren’t used to them,” Zuko adds helpfully, still examining the box, and Sokka would think he was being teased if Zuko weren’t so painfully earnest.

“Huhgh,” Sokka says, scrubbing at his tongue with his hand.

Zuko turns to him, eyes widening. “Oh. Sorry.”

Sokka turns a pleading gaze on Katara, and she laughs at his suffering because she is evil before she relents and bends a sphere of cold water over to him because she is wonderful. He quickly swallows it, relishing in the coolness for a moment–

Zuko winces, and that’s all the warning Sokka has before the burning is back and worse.

“Hugngh!” Sokka says again, pitifully.

“It’ll fade, I promise,” Zuko assures. “...but water makes it worse.”

Sokka wails.

~

“So, Zuko,” Katara begins some time later, and Sokka is instantly wary.

They’re all gathered around the campfire, having gorged themselves on the various non-painful snacks they’d acquired at the market. The atmosphere is nice, and warm, and a little like home, and Sokka prays to any spirits that might be listening that Katara handles whatever she’s about to say delicately.

“Yes?” Zuko responds, looking just as nervous as Sokka feels.

“I’ve been thinking, and I realized we really don’t know much about you,” she says, and the hostility that Sokka had been half-expecting is absent. He sags with relief.

Zuko, if anything, looks more worried. “Um.”

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,” she assures, “but it might be nice to know a little more about you! Like, what sorts of things did you do before we met?”

“Um,” Zuko says again, more urgently. After a long moment, he admits, “I looked for the Avatar?”

Katara’s smile goes a bit strained. “Oh! Even before you met Aang? Were you… into mythology?”

Zuko winces. “No. I was sort of… on a quest.”

Her smile has become about as authentic as Joo Dee’s. “A quest to find the Avatar? …Who everyone thought was gone forever?”

Aang winces slightly at that, and Sokka throws an arm over his shoulder comfortingly, but he’s focused closely on Zuko’s words.

“I didn’t choose the quest,” Zuko snaps, a little defensive.

“Right,” Katara agrees faintly. “Of course. Someone else made the Fire Prince go sailing after a spirit’s tale.”

“Katara…” Sokka shakes his head disapprovingly at her. She’s trying, he knows that, but she doesn’t have to sound so skeptical. Zuko isn’t lying, he’s just… bad at words.

Zuko is tense. “...Yes.”

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Truth,” Toph says, in a very strange tone. “Weird.”

“That’s true?” Sokka bursts out, unable to help himself. “I thought you were just, like, bad at explaining things! You were actually, actively forced on a quest to find the Avatar before we found him?”

“...Yes.”

“For how long?”

Zuko falters, looking around the campfire a little frantically.

Sokka remembers himself. “Sorry. Sorry, obviously you don’t have to–”

“Three years.”

“...Truth.”

“What?!” Sokka explodes, reigning himself in when Zuko flinches slightly.

Aang’s eyes are wide and sorry. “You were looking for me for that long?”

Katara grips her necklace. “But you must’ve been only around Sokka’s age when you started!”

Zuko frowns slightly. “...Not quite. I don’t think.”

A very strange feeling comes over Sokka. “Wait. How old are you now?”

“Sixteen. My birthday is the Winter solstice.”

Sokka’s jaw drops.

“You’re sixteen?!” Katara demands, looking horrified. “I thought you were an adult!”

Zuko looks uncomfortable. “I am.”

“No, you aren't! You’re sixteen!” Sokka squawks.

Zuko looks briefly puzzled. Then, “How old is an adult to the Southern Water Tribe?”

“Eighteen!” Katara says immediately, forcefully, as though it hadn’t occurred to her that it might be up for debate.

“Sixteen is an adult in the Fire Nation,” Zuko shrugs.

“So… you left when you were thirteen?” Toph asks, more quietly than Sokka is used to from her. It brings him back to the most urgent point. Three years. Thirteen.

“Yeah,” Zuko says softly. “I was a kid, then.”

“You’re a kid now,” Sokka insists. “Just because the Fire Nation is all screw-y doesn’t mean–”

“What were you doing in the South Pole?” Aang interrupts suddenly. There’s a strange look on his face.

“What?” Zuko asks, startled.

“You said you were looking for me,” Aang explains slowly, “but Air was next in the cycle. So why were you in the South Pole?”

“I just told you, I was looking for you for three years!” Zuko repeats, looking frustrated at being misunderstood. “I had already tried everywhere that made sense! I’d been to all the Air Temples twice over!”

“Wait,” Sokka says, an ugly understanding taking shape in his gut. “You were looking for him nonstop that whole time? As in… you never went home?”

“I couldn't!” Zuko snaps defensively, looking cornered. “If I could have just gone home, why would I care about the Avatar?”

The words settle into Sokka’s skin, painful and biting. Thirteen.

“Why couldn’t you go home without Aang?” Katara asks, wide-eyed and sad.

“I was banished,” Zuko spits out like the words burn in his mouth. “On pain of death. I could return with the Avatar, or not at all.”

“But you were thirteen,” Sokka says, feeling sick. “And he was a spirit’s tale.”

Zuko looks away. “Yeah. Well. Nice, clean way to get rid of me, wasn’t it? I didn’t realize for a long time that he never…” He hisses softly. “I wasn’t wanted back.”

“Your dad?” Toph asks in a small voice.

“Yeah,” Zuko sighs, bringing a hand to his face (to his scar that’s shaped like a hand that Sokka is not thinking about right now). “My dad.”

Sokka's brain stumbles to a halt at the word dad in reference to Ozai. Of course he'd known Zuko was the Fire Lord's son, but something about the word 'dad' makes it really come into focus in a way it hasn't done before, like the moment he'd first fully realized there must have been a time before Zuko had a scar. He was raised by Ozai. Ozai is his dad. His childhood memories have Ozai in them.

He always used to imagine that Zuko must have grown up spoiled and selfish and shallow, servants always waiting at his beck and call, a silver spoon dangling out of his mouth from the moment of his birth. But suddenly it's really hitting him that Zuko is more than just the son of royalty; he's the son of the Fire Lord. His mind conjures up an image of Princess Yue and the terrible, quiet burden she'd always carried, the crushing duty that had led her both in life and in death. Everything she'd ever done was determined by what would honor her father and her Tribe.

Sokka wonders, in an awful flash of clarity, what it must have taken to make a father like Ozai proud.

“But… Why?” Katara cuts through the heavy silence, her eyes shining with tears. "Why would he banish you?"

Zuko shrugs half-heartedly. “Does it matter? I’m here now. I did bad things and then I stopped. I don’t need you to forgive me just because you pity me.”

“If you honestly think that’s what’s happening right now, you’re even worse at reading a room than I thought,” Sokka says, even though it probably definitely isn’t the right thing to say at a moment like this.

But Zuko’s eyes widen, and then he snorts a little, so. Maybe it was the right thing.

“You’re our friend,” Aang explains softly. “And we want to know how you got here.”

Zuko closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and the fireplace swells with him. The heat swelters, and Sokka prepares for an ugly story.

“You have to understand, I wasn’t born the Crown Prince,” he finally begins. “I spent most of my life as fourth in line for the throne. It was never expected that any true greatness would be required of me. So when I was born with no spark in my eye, and the Sages predicted I was without Fire, my father let me live. I wasn’t supposed to be important, so he didn’t think it would matter if I was useless.”

Sokka swallows hard at the flat delivery, thinking of his own father, who had never once made him feel less special than Katara for lacking bending. He glances at his sister and sees the same troubled thought reflected on her face.

“But when I was eleven, my father suddenly became the Fire Lord, and as his firstborn I was Crown Prince. It wasn’t a role I had ever been trained for, and I wasn’t a good bender, especially compared to Azula– she had mastered the Blue Flame before I had even finished basic katas. I was unworthy, and everyone knew it.

“I wanted to be the Prince my Nation deserved, but I just wasn’t. I was getting more inadequate by the day while Azula kept improving. I could feel my father losing patience with me. So when I was thirteen, I begged my Uncle to let me attend a war meeting so I could learn our strategies and begin to fulfill my role. He let me join on the condition that I observe silently.”

Sokka thinks of everything he knows about Zuko, all the words that might describe him. Silent is not one of them. His hands clench into fists in his lap.

“While I was in the meeting, a general began to describe a battle plan against the Earth Kingdom’s army. He proposed sending in a younger division of Firebenders, new recruits, to meet experienced Earthbenders. It didn’t make sense to me– I didn’t see how a bunch of teenage grunts could defeat seasoned Earth Kingdom warriors. Until he explained that their only role was to be killed, as a distraction for a stronger battalion of Firebenders to come in from the rear,” Zuko spits, looking as disgusted by the plan as he’d surely been all those years ago. “He called them fresh meat.”

“But that’s awful! How could he?” Katara gasps, a hand rising to cover her mouth. Sokka can’t help but share her horror, grabbing her other hand to offer some semblance of comfort. Warriors are sacred in the Southern Water Tribe, honored for their sacrifice and bravery. To dispose of them so callously is unthinkable.

“I felt the same,” Zuko says, glancing at Katara. “I stood up and said so. I asked how he could betray them.”

Sokka bristles at the shame in his tone. “You were right!”

“It didn't matter. It wasn’t my place,” Zuko shakes his head. “As punishment for my disrespect, my father ordered that I fight in an Agni Kai.”

Aang gasps– clearly the term holds more meaning for him than it does for Sokka. “A fire bending duel,” he whispers, gray eyes wide with horror. “A trial of honor before Agni himself, ended at first burn.”

At the words, Sokka’s chest hollows out. Oh.

A scar shaped like a hand.

An Agni Kai.

Thirteen.

“I was worried– like I said, I was a subpar bender. Always have been. But the general was old, and I was still determined to prove myself, so I thought maybe I could take him. Not that it would have mattered. Orders are orders.” Zuko takes a deep breath. “I told my father that I wasn’t afraid. But I misunderstood.”

“You… didn’t have to fight?” Katara asks hopefully. Sokka can tell she doesn’t truly believe the possibility, but he understands the desperate desire for a kinder story.

Zuko snorts, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, I had to fight– just not the general. I turned around on the day of the duel to discover that my opponent was the Fire Lord.”

“You had to duel your own father?” Aang demands, his young face twisted up with pain.

“That wasn’t a fair fight!” Sokka rages, gut wrenching with horror. “You couldn’t possibly have been expected to beat him. How was that allowed?”

“The Fire Lord’s word is law,” Zuko intones distantly, as though echoing a half-remembered childhood lesson. “Blessed by Agni himself. To suggest he acted dishonorably was blasphemy.”

“So… you fought him?” Katara clarifies, face wan and sorry.

Zuko shakes his head. “I couldn’t fight my father. As I said, his word was law– if he said I was wrong, then I knew it must be true. I sank to my knees and refused to fight. Told him I was loyal, and I was sorry. He reached down and held a hand to my face… Then he lit it on fire.”

There’s a long moment of silence as they all try to process what they’ve heard. Sokka desperately tries to wrap his head around something so awful, but comes up empty.

Not for the first time, he curses the Great Spirits and their incomprehensible ways. He remembers Hei Bai stealing townspeople one by one as retribution for a burned forest, and wonders why the skies had then been empty to avenge a burned child. Or Sokka’s burned mother. Or Aang’s burned nation. Sokka’s mouth tastes like ash.

“He banished me,” Zuko continues, “for my cowardice in refusing to fight. Told me that I could return to the Fire Nation with the Avatar in chains, or not at all. I spent years searching for you, Aang, but it was a fool’s errand. I didn’t realize it then, but everyone else did. They must’ve all thought I was an idiot, thinking he really wanted me back–” He cuts off, shaking his head sharply. “You hadn’t been seen in a hundred years. I was never expected to find you.”

“That’s awful,” Katara whispers. “I don't understand how anyone could be so cruel.”

“Is it really so surprising?” Zuko asks, shrugging. “It’s not as if Ozai is known for his mercy.”

“But he’s your father,” Katara insists.

“He’s the Fire Lord,” Zuko corrects sharply.

“Spirits,” Sokka mutters, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

Katara is still shaking her head, clutching at her necklace. “I don’t understand how he could do it.”

“Don’t try to make sense of it,” Zuko advises. His voice is strangely gentle in a way Sokka isn’t used to, and it makes him wonder if Zuko ever used that tone with Azula. “I wasted three years trying. But there’s nothing to understand, no greater meaning. It was just pointless cruelty.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to be your friend,” Aang says suddenly, eyes wide and shiny. “I bet you needed one.”

Zuko snorts softly. “Aang, I was shooting fireballs at you every five minutes.”

“None of them hit us,” Sokka points out, remembering the epiphany he'd had after his own training with Zuko.

“Like I said. I'm a lousy bender,” Zuko shrugs him off, cheeks flaming.

“Not that lousy,” Aang says, smiling. Then, more quietly, “You were always honorable.”

Zuko closes his eyes tightly. “That isn’t true.”

“Maybe not,” Katara cuts in sharply, “But you certainly didn’t lose your honor when you stood up for your soldiers. You were right.”

“Honor isn't always about who’s right,” Zuko says.

“Then what’s the point of it?” She demands, swiping fiercely at her eyes.

Zuko deflates. “If I knew the answer to that, maybe I’d still be home.”

“Do you still want to be home?” Toph asks quietly.

“Do you?” Zuko counters.

“No way,” Toph says immediately. “I’d never go back. Not in a million years. But… I miss it anyway.”

Zuko sighs. “Yeah.”

“You must have really wanted to go back, when we first met, or you wouldn’t have tried so hard to capture me,” Aang says sadly. There’s a wisdom in his eyes that Sokka rarely sees and dislikes when he does; Aang shouldn’t have to be wise. He should just get to be twelve. But then, Zuko should’ve gotten to be thirteen. All of them are still kids, really, but he can’t linger on that thought for too long without getting so angry he feels like he can’t breathe.

“It was stupid, I know. But he was my father,” Zuko says, sounding a bit lost, “and I wanted him to love me.”

“But he didn't,” Toph puts in, as kindly as something like that can be said. “You must have known.”

“I didn’t. Or I didn't want to know, anyway,” Zuko sighs.

“Even if you didn’t know,” Katara presses, clearly struggling to make sense of it, “You knew he had burned you. And you still wanted to go back to him?”

Zuko shrugs helplessly. “How much would it take for you to give up on your father? For you to accept that you were better off in a refugee camp than with him, and that no matter what you did, he’d never welcome you home?”

“That’s different,” Katara insists. “Our dad would never have hurt us like that in the first place!”

“But if he had.” Zuko presses, suddenly seeming a bit desperate for her to understand. “If you had no one else, and everyone told you your father was the divine embodiment of all that was right and just, that doubting him was akin to doubting the Great Spirits themselves, and then he’d hurt you and banished you. Wouldn’t you think maybe he was right to do that, too? Wouldn’t you do anything you could to learn whatever lesson he’d been trying to teach you?”

The words hit Sokka like a physical blow, ugly enough that he can't help but flinch back. He wonders, for a moment, what he would do if his father disfigured and banished him. He pictures Hakoda's face twisted with anger, a spear raised in his hand to come down on Sokka– it takes a few long moments for the image to form at all, with no memory to fuel it, but when it comes it leaves Sokka sick– with fear, and with shame.

Because Dad is always, always right, always brave, always honorable, and if Sokka ever did anything to earn a punishment like that from the most righteous man he knows… It would have to mean that it was Sokka’s own fault.

He thinks back to what Katara had told him about that awful day in Ba Sing Se when everything had gone wrong. When Zuko had chosen wrong, only it doesn't seem like the easy choice between Good and Evil that Sokka had always imagined anymore. For Zuko, it had never been about right or wrong, or the war at all. It had been about the love of his father, and the awful things he had to do to earn it.

Sokka isn’t sure there’s anything he wouldn’t do in Zuko’s place, if he’d ever been told his father’s love was something to be earned.

“I never understood before,” Katara says quietly. “Why you did what you did. But… I get it now. I’m glad you’re here. And I… forgive you.”

Zuko is sitting rigidly. “You don't have to–”

“I know I don't have to,” Katara says sharply. “I'm saying it because it’s true. So let me say it.” She waits for Zuko’s slight nod before continuing haltingly, “And before you get started, it isn’t about pity. Sometimes people’s reasons make a difference, okay? And I guess I didn't realize… Well. I mean, you were chasing us, personally chasing us, and you were a prince. Who could make you do anything you didn’t want to? In my mind, everything you were doing… it had to be because you honestly wanted to. And even after everything, when you came here and joined us… I sort of always thought that if things didn’t work out, you could just go running back home to Ozai. So it was hard to trust that you were in it for real, you know?”

“Yeah,” Zuko says quietly. “I know.”

“But you left the Fire Nation voluntarily this time,” Sokka says, realizing it out loud. “Didn’t you?”

Zuko nods, then snorts a little. “Burned that bridge pretty thoroughly while I was at it.”

Sokka thinks about what it must be like to spend years wanting something as simple as your father’s love, to be burned and half-blind and thirteen and still searching for it, and then to finally have it. What kind of strength would it take to turn it away?

Sokka realizes with an uncomfortable twist of the gut that he doesn’t know if he would be strong enough.

Suddenly, Zuko’s words process, and Sokka straightens. “What do you mean you burned that bridge?”

Zuko shrugs, his lips quirked up slightly with something like pride. “I told my dad on the day of the eclipse that I was leaving to go train the Avatar. That I was going to help defeat him.”

Sokka’s eyes widen as he tries to wrap his head around the enormity of that.

“Bet he took that well,” Toph snorts, but there’s a bit of worry in her face.

The hesitant pride leaves Zuko’s expression, and he hunches over. “Not really, but it was my fault. I was an idiot, I let him stall me until the eclipse ended.”

Sokka cringes. “I don’t know, that’s not that idiotic. Could happen to anyone, really.”

Katara pats him on the back sympathetically.

“Right,” Zuko says slowly.

“What did he do?” Aang asks, leaning forward a little. “When the eclipse ended? He didn’t burn you, did he?”

“He…” Zuko winces. “He shot lightning at me.”

“And you survived?” Aang asks, frantically looking him over as though searching for burns.

“I wouldn’t have, if it had hit me,” Zuko assures, looking at Aang with a strangely apologetic expression. “Don’t worry, I’m not… trying to say I’m stronger than you, or anything.”

“‘Don’t worry,’ he says,” Sokka echoes exasperatedly. “His father shot lightning at him, but don’t worry, because he isn’t trying to brag.”

Zuko looks flustered. “I just meant, the Avatar wasn’t weak for being incapacitated by Azula. I didn’t want you to think–”

“No one thought that’s what you meant, buddy,” Sokka says, something fond rising in his chest. “Anyway, continue. So, your dad missed, and then you just… left?”

“What?” Zuko frowns. “He didn’t miss. I redirected it. But, yeah, then I left and came straight here. Well, I stopped and practiced my speech first, but–”

“You redirected it?” Aang asks excitedly.

“You practiced that?” Sokka asks in the same moment.

Zuko grimaces.

“It’s possible to redirect lightning?” Katara speaks up more clearly, eyes wide and interested.

“It’s a move my uncle developed,” Zuko nods. “It’s actually adapted from Waterbending forms. Uh, I could… I could show you, if you wanted? Not that you need–”

“That would be great,” Katara cuts him off warmly.

“Why haven’t you shown me yet?” Aang half-whines. “I’m the one who can actually Firebend!”

Zuko tenses again. “I, uh– I wasn’t holding back on you, or anything. Or hiding it. We were going to get to it once we reached more advanced sets, I swear.”

Far from being accusatory, Aang’s expression turns petulant. “But I wanna shoot lightning now!”

Zuko relaxes, a slight smile returning to his face. “Maybe once you can get through your hot-squats without complaining.”

Aang groans dramatically.

“Circling back to the most important point,” Sokka cuts in, “can we talk about the fact that ‘Hello, Zuko here’ was apparently rehearsed?”

“I panicked!” Zuko snaps, his face flaming red.

“So, that part wasn’t in your script, then?” Toph asks, grinning wickedly.

Zuko’s flush darkens. “...No.”

“Lie!” She sing-songs. “Sparky, you planned that?”

“...It sounded better when I used it on the toad,” Zuko mumbles.

“You practiced with a toad?” Sokka wheezes.

“I didn’t have anyone else to practice with!” Zuko defends himself.

“I take back what I said,” Katara says, eyes wide and gleeful. “I don’t forgive you, Zuko, until you give us your full speech, as you originally planned it.”

“I second that,” Sokka agrees.

“Thirded!” Toph chimes in.

“I forgive you regardless,” Aang says quickly, because he’s no fun. “...But I still want to hear the speech.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea?” Zuko says, his voice pitching high. “I sort of… talk a lot about attacking you.”

“In your apology speech?” Sokka asks incredulously. His face hurts from smiling.

Zuko buries his head in his hands, but the tip of his good ear is still violently red with his blush. “I’m not good with words!”

“Yeah, we kinda caught onto that, buddy,” Sokka confesses.

“Well, I think Sifu Hotman is very good at talking!” Aang declares, puffing his chest up importantly.

“This doesn’t get you out of your hot-squats,” Zuko’s muffled voice comes from where his head is still buried in his hands.

Aang deflates.

Zuko is such a weird guy, Sokka thinks, for perhaps the thousandth time. But for the first time, he doesn’t try to suppress the fondness that comes with it. And I’m glad he’s here.