Chapter Text
Seige
Kyoshi Island
“How soon can the Southern Water Tribe send naval aid?” Suki asks, standing at the head of the table in the war room, which only a few days ago had been just another common area in the Warriors’ training facility. Mako sits at the end of the table, Wu at his side. He’s not sure what exactly he’s supposed to contribute, other than moral support, but Wu looked at him with big, spooked eyes at the thought of going into an honest to Raava war meeting alone, so here Mako is.
“Not soon enough,” Sokka says grimly, “Even with iron hulls, winter pack ice will slow down shipping, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the odds of metal ships vs. metal benders.”
Suki curses and cracks her knuckles. “I thought so.”
“We can get some of the wooden skiffs battle-ready, but I don’t like the odds of vintage ships against modern tech,” Kyoka, one of the Warriors’ commanding officers, says. She’s about Lin’s age, with silver threading through her dark hair and creases around her eyes from squinting into the wind.
“We have the terrain on our side,” Suki says, “The cliffs face the mainland. The lagoon is the only usable harbor for a landing.”
“And I have an idea for how to protect the harbor,” Sokka says with a wicked grin, “The Fire Nation capitol city had this thing they called the Great Gates of Azulon during the war, big old nets over the entrance to the harbor. Lots of fire, giant ugly statue, very Imperial. We got around it on the Day of Black Sun by going under it. If we make a similar thing that extends down to the ocean floor, no one’s getting anywhere near the harbor, even if they get around the Unagi.”
Everyone around the table nods. Wu, fingers twisted in the fabric of Mako’s sleeve, makes a small sound. Mako looks at him. The king-in-exile’s lips are pressed together in a tight, bloodless line and he’s shaking his head slightly. Mako taps the back of his hand with two fingers and raises an eyebrow when Wu meets his eyes.
Mako raises an eyebrow in a silent ‘all right?’
“It won’t work,” Wu says quietly.
“What?” Mako asks.
Wu blinks and looks away.
“Wu,” Mako nudges him with an elbow.
“It won’t work,” Wu blurts.
Everyone stops and looks at them. Wu shrinks in on himself. Mako squares his shoulders and glares on reflex. What a pair they make, he ponders wryly as he forces his stiff spine to relax.
“Won’t work, like it needs a few adjustments, or won’t work like Kuvira has something crazy up her sleeve?” Suki asks.
Wu chews his lip, shrinking in on himself under their scrutiny, but catching himself and rallying halfway into his slouch, pulling up a veneer of royal poise over his obvious nerves. “Kuvira makes everything out of metal. Everything. Fire won’t affect whatever ship she sends to invade.” The leaders are nodding seriously, Ty Lee shoots them an encouraging smile, Wu swallows, voice steadying, “And she has Varrick. He’s working on these mecha-suits. All metal, sealed, insulated. So, if she makes landfall, you’ll not just be fighting benders, you’ll be fighting tanks on legs.”
“So, we stop her before she makes land,” Sokka says, “We modify the Gate design.”
“Metal is conductive,” Mako says, “And I know a lot of lightning benders who’ll do anything to stay free of Kuvira.”
Sokka grins, “Now we’re thinking!”
“Does Kuvira have any airships?” Kyoka asks, tapping one of her closed fans against the table thoughtfully. “Aerial bombardment could be a problem.”
“No,” Wu says, “I didn’t see any plans for airships.”
“Nice,” Sokka cracks a crooked smile.
“To be fair, we don’t have any airships either,” Suki points out.
“But we might have a dragon if Zuko gets our message soon enough,” Sokka says.
“Don’t count your pig-chickens,” Suki chides him.
“So Sokka and I get a team on a new Azulon’s Gate,” Ty Lee says brightly, “What’s next?”
“Coming up with a better name than ‘Azulon’s Gate’,” Sokka jokes, “I vote we name it after me. Not enough things are named after me, in my opinion.”
“Tenzin didn’t name any of his kids after him,” Ty Lee whispers very loudly, “he’s still disappointed.”
“I mean come on, Meelo could have been Sokka II!” Sokka I declares.
“See?”
“Can we please get back on topic?” Kyoka cries, “We have an invasion to repel!”
…
Republic City
“Asami! Asami!” Bolin comes skidding into her office, doors swinging wildly behind him, Pabu clinging to his collar like a red, furry scarf. Asami is reminded wryly of that red scarf Mako used to wear constantly, the way he used to duck his chin into its folds when he couldn’t keep up his usual Resting Serious Face. Yin, or ‘Grandma’ as she insists Asami call her now that she and the rest of the family are living at the Sato Estate, is the one to wear it everywhere now. Sometimes she’ll pause whatever she’s doing, close her eyes and press one end against her cheek as if she could absorb all those lost years through her skin. It breaks Asami’s heart a little every time.
“Letter from Mako!” Bolin still has Raiko’s pen stuck behind one ear, the clip on its lid tangled in his curls. He’s waving the letter, the paper already crumpled and stained.
“Well, give it here!” Asami holds out her hands and Bolin crowds behind the desk to read over her shoulder the way he has every time they’ve gotten a message from Mako or Wu the last few weeks. (Asami remembers when they lost contact with Mako, those terrible weeks of watching the life and color slowly drain out of Bolin, remembers finding him in the kitchen at the Sato Estate in the middle of the night, fat tears rolling down his face and a mug of bitter, scalded tea in his hands, blubbering “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without Mako, I can’t even make tea right!”. She’d taken the mug out of his hands and wrapped him in a hug and rubbed his back the way her mother used to rub hers after a nightmare when she was a child because it wasn’t about the tea at all, it was about two brothers who’d had no one but each other for too long and didn’t know how to exist apart.)
“It’s short,” Bolin complains, “Why are they always short?”
“He’s a man of few works,” Asami says, wrestling two letters, one long and rambly and written in antiquated calligraphy (Wu’s, obviously Wu’s) and the other terse, to the point, and written in familiar cramped, slanting scrawl. She sets aside Wu’s letter for the moment; Bolin is obviously impatient to see what his brother has to say.
“What’s that bit that’s all crossed out?” Bolin squints at the page, crowding her chair even more. Asami wrinkles her nose.
“Did you bathe in cologne?”
“No, why? Is it too much? I’m trying something new.”
“It’s too much.” Asami says bluntly, “Way too much.”
Bolin deflates. “Chief Beifong called me ‘kiddo’ the other day. I don’t know how to get people to take me seriously. It’s so easy for Mako. He just folds his arms and glares and says stuff. Serious stuff! People have been treating Mako like a grown-up since he was fourteen! I actually am a grownup and I get ‘kiddo-ed’!”
Asami personally thinks that adults treating a fourteen-year-old child like a fellow adult is more of problem, but doesn’t feel like opening that particular can of worms today. “Well, cologne isn’t the answer, you smell like stale incense.”
Bolin sighs dramatically, resting his forehead on the back of her chair. “Fine. What does Mako say?”
Not much, is the answer.
Dear Asami,
I think I love Wu and it scares me stupid.
Mako
Dear Asami,
I’m very glad Pabu is alright and Bolin isn’t plotting my murder. In other news, Kuvira has demanded Kyoshi Island return to the Earth Kingdom and agree to her terms for “protection” and we’re preparing in case we have to defend the island. So that’s neat.
Mako
“Raava in a teapot,” Asami breathes. “She’s really going to try to conquer Kyoshi.”
Pabu chitters lowly. Bolin absently pets his head, “Yeah, I hear you buddy.”
“We have to tell Lord Zuko,” Asami says, setting Mako’s letter aside and diving into Wu’s. Bolin never learned the alphabet used in High Earth Kingdom calligraphy (it’s archaic, Asami was forced to learn it at boarding school and even she sometimes has to break out the dictionary to decipher Wu’s letters. Between Wu’s stylized script and Mako’s pig-chicken scratch handwriting, it’s like their communications are in code. Which, considering the dictator on Wu and Mako’s trail, is kind of a plus.) Wu’s letter has more details, but even those are sparse and they all boil down to the same thing. Kuvira is demanding Kyoshi Island’s surrender. She’s given them a deadline. Kyoshi Island has no intention of surrendering.
“Anything else?” Bolin asks, practically vibrating out of his skin at her side.
“Not really,” Asami says, tucking the letters away. She doesn’t think Bolin wants to hear the king-in-exile of the earth kingdom wax poetic about his brother’s eyes. “Let’s go find Lord Zuko.”
…
Kyoshi Island
The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, the horizon blushing pink and orange with the coming day, and Mako can’t sleep. He’s sitting on the porch, overlooking the harbor, watching as the sun creeps sluggishly into the sky. He’s been released from the infirmary, most of his bandages are gone. Even the gouges on his face are uncovered now. The swelling has mostly disappeared, but the ragged lines are no less vibrant, now healed over into angry pink ridges. He wonders what Bolin will say about the scars when he sees him again.
If he sees him again.
Mako doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He’s been doing what he can to help with prototypes for Sokka’s Gate, working with the lightning benders they liberated from the work camps, perfecting the steps to run streak lightning along the chains, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. It never feels like enough. Mako hates this feeling, like he’s just a leaf dragging along in the current of Momentous Events. Mako’s never wanted to make history. All he’s ever wanted is food to eat and a roof over his head and nobody that wants to kill him.
Well, he has food and a roof and a whole nation out for his blood.
So, really, he’s two for three, which is pretty good, all things considered.
It’s strange working with Sokka. He’s the kind of person whose very presence should have weight to it, but instead it feels almost like what Mako would imagine having a grandfather or a mentor feels like. (Not that Mako would know, the closest thing he ever had to a mentor was Lightning Bolt Zolt and he was never the paternal type). But Sokka is present and insightful, and more than anything, patient, as the liberated lightning benders try to work out how to make his designs work.
“It doesn’t have to enough to fry an Unagi,” Sokka would caution them as younger benders got frustrated or discouraged, “Just enough to shut down whatever machines Varrick’s cooked up. Don’t burn yourselves out.”
Later, Sokka had told Mako wryly, “I remember when it’d never even occurred to me that a person could bend lightning. Back in the day it seemed like the scariest thing in the world when Azula whipped that out. And now here I am, with my own little herd of electric turtleducklings. Life is funny.”
Mako had scowled, “If life is funny, I’m still waiting for the punchline.”
That had made Sokka laugh, which made no sense to Mako, but the old man’s humor was infectious and Mako had somehow still left the conversation feeling lighter.
Now the weight is back on his shoulders, though and he doesn’t know what to do with it. This isn’t like taking care of Bolin on the streets. Then there was always something he could do, or try to do. He could steal food, if he had a few coins he could buy a cup of cheap tea at a street cart and fill it to the brim with the complimentary milk and sugar so he and Bo would at least feel full even if they hadn’t had anything to eat all day. (Bolin thinks he likes tea – he doesn’t, he likes hot milk and sugar and Mako never got around to telling him. He should do that when he gets back. If he gets back. Fuck, he has to stop thinking in terms of ifs.) There was always something in front of him that could be fixed, or at least patched until the next crisis. This isn’t like this. This is too big for his two hands. This is out of his control and there’s not Korra and her awesome Avatar powers, or Asami and her inventions, or Tenzin with his air bender wisdom to catch him if he fails this time.
“Hey, I thought I’d find you here,” Wu’s voice breaks into his thoughts and Mako looks up to see the prince (King? Is Wu king? Or does he need a coronation for that? Does it matter?) looking sleep-rumpled and drowsy, dressed haphazardly and trailing a blanket like a cloak.
“Hey,” Mako rasps, voice rusty with disuse.
Wu slouches over to sit at his side, grimacing as his bare feet touch the chilly wood. “How are you just sitting out here without a jacket?” he huffs, shrugging the blanket up and around their shoulders, “Aren’t you cold?” Wu slides over to rest against his side and laughs, “Oh, you’re warm.”
“Fire bender,” Mako reminds him.
“Hm,” Wu hums sleepily, scrunching up closer, leeching heat. He tucks his long legs up against his chest and wraps an arm around his shins. “Whatcha brooding about?”
“I’m not brooding,” Mako denies automatically.
“Are too~”
“Fine. I’m thinking about how we could all die and it’s completely out of my control,” Mako huffs. “Is that better?”
“Obviously not,” Wu scoffs, “But it’s important to talk about what we’re afraid of. Makes us less afraid of it.”
“Really?” Mako says skeptically.
“I dunno, Ty Lee said it and she seems like a smart lady.”
“Figures,” Mako sighs. “Wu…I’m sorry.”
Wu stiffens, shifts so they’re less pressed together, so he can turn and regard Mako with narrowed eyes. “What?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get you straight to Republic City like I was supposed to. If I’d done my job properly, the way I was supposed to, none of this would be happening. You would be safe, Kuvira wouldn’t have a reason to come after Kyoshi Island – ”
“Hey, none of that,” Wu snaps, “what makes you think this is your fault?”
“If you were in Republic City, where you were supposed to be right now –”
“I’d probably be partying it up, having the time of my life not dying every other week?” Wu says archly.
“Well…yeah!” Mako blusters. He doesn’t like the way Wu is raising both eyebrows at him like that.
Wu drops the eyebrows, but only to choke on a snickering sort of laugh, “Mako, that’s ridiculous.”
Mako glares.
Wu continues to laugh, “If you hadn’t come to get me, I’d still be living underground with the badgermoles! Or dead in the riots! As great as it’d be to be living it up Republic City style, but I just don’t see how that’d be happening without you. And,” Wu sobers, face going soft in that way that makes Mako’s insides squirm. “My life would be a lot worse without you in it. Across the board. This year has been terrifying, and huge, and smelly, and loud, and occasionally horrible – ”
“Making me feel great, really super, here,” Mako grumbles, mostly teasing.
Wu pinches him, “- but, it’s been amazing. Really. Really amazing. I’ve seen more of the Earth Kingdom, more of the world than I’ve ever dreamed. And I’ve loved it. And I’ve loved seeing it with you.”
“I – ” Mako begins, but stops, not knowing what to say next.
“Kuvira wants the Earth Kingdom. All of it. And no matter what the Islanders think, that includes Kyoshi Island. She was always going to come after it. And she was always going to come after me. I wish…” Wu sighs, shoulders slumping, “I wish things could be different. I wish I knew how to fix my country. And I’m learning more every day that it was already broken before Zaheer killed my great aunt. But I know, I know that violent subjugation under a military dictator isn’t what’s best for my people either.” Wu shakes his head sharply, his sleep-rumpled curls brushing feather-light against Mako’s cheek where they’re pressed together. “What I’m trying to say is, every bad thing in the world isn’t your fault, love. Even every bad thing that happens to me isn’t your fault. In fact, my life is a hundred times better with you in it, and I will be very put out if you decide to skulk off and brood alone like a brooding, tortured hero in an opera.”
That startles a laugh out of Mako, who shakes his head, “I’ve never even seen an opera,” he blurts when he doesn’t know how to respond to this level of heartfelt and serious from Wu of all people.
“Well that’s just a travesty,” Wu huffs, “We have to survive the siege now just so you can see real theatre! The drama! The costumes! The music! It’s indulgent and extravagant and fabulous.”
Mako has the distinct feeling he is not going to enjoy opera. And that thought, the certainty that he will be dragged to the opera (and probably stuffed into an uncomfortable suit in the process) and he will sit through the whole thing, no matter how torturous, because Wu won’t have it any other way, and he’ll even enjoy it just a little because of the sheer, ridiculous delight Wu takes in it, just like the ridiculous delight he takes in everything, is enough to make Mako a little bit hopeful for the future.
“My life is better with you in it, too,” He says softly.
Wu blinks, stopping halfway through an opera-related tirade. “What?”
Mako raises an eyebrow, “You heard me.”
“Oh no I did not, you don’t get to say something dare I say sweet, even if it’s a copycat of my nice thing, and then wimp out when you’re asked to repeat yourself so I can properly savor the sentiment.”
“Nope,” Mako says, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “This is one use only sentiment. You missed your chance. So sad.”
Wu pouts, “You’re the worst, why do I like you?”
“My angry eyebrows?” Mako offers.
“It’s the astonishing good looks, I’m sure. And the saving my life constantly. All annoyingly swoon-worthy, even if you are a brute.”
Mako takes a chance and wraps his arms around Wu, squashing him into a hug, making the prince laugh in delighted surprise. “My life is better with you in it,” he repeats, soft, against the side of Wu’s neck, when his majesty stops laughing and flailing.
Wu falls still, and Mako can hear the smile in his voice. “See, was that so hard?”
“I want to keep you in it. In my life. If you’ll stay,” Mako mumbles, second-guessing himself even as he says it.
“Of course, I’ll stay,” Wu hums, “You’re stuck with me, buddy.”
Mako squeezes him, “Don’t call people ‘buddy’ when you’ve kissed them on a train floor.”
“Oh, there’s rules now? No one ever told me. I grew up very sheltered, you know.”
Mako kisses him, once, on the lips, a sharp, decisive sort of kiss. “Quit calling me buddy.”
“Cool, cool, can do,” Wu breathes.
Mako kisses his forehead to make a point, “Now watch the sunrise with me and try to feel hopeful about our chances.”
“Sorry, I’m too busy trying to figure out what nicknames are appropriate now that ‘buddy’ is off the table.”
Mako sighs and squeeze the prince a little tighter and reminds himself that for now, they are alive. “Try ‘boyfriend.’”
A dismissive noise, “Too many syllables. And royals don’t do boyfriends, we do paramours and mistresses and consorts, that sort of thing.”
“I’m not your mistress.”
“That’s not a ‘no’ on paramour…”
“It’s a no.”
“Fine, ‘buddy’ it is.”
Mako buries his face in Wu’s hair and bites back a laugh. Maybe they’ll survive after all, if only so he can steal Bolin’s thesaurus and win this argument.
…
Republic City
“Oogi and I can help evacuate the island’s civilians,” Tenzin is saying, standing, holding open a topographical map of Kyoshi Island. “Asami, I hate to ask it of you – ”
“There’s already a Future Industries airship ready and waiting,” Asami says briskly, tugging Raiko’s former pen from behind Bolin’s ear and using it to weigh down one of the map’s curling corners. Pabu jumps up to hold down the other side.
“Thanks, buddy,” Bolin whispers to the fire ferret, “Mako taught you some good tricks, didn’t he?”
The ferret chirrs and rubs his little face against Bolin’s hand.
“Druk and I can provide some cover from the air if it comes down to it,” Lord Zuko interjects.
“Bolin and I can help with the evacuation,” Opal offers.
“Yeah,” Bolin agrees, “Drop me on in the town, I can help organize and provide ground cover.”
“We don’t know what kind of weaponry Kuvira will bring to bear on the island,” Lin squints down at the map, arms crossed, a thoughtful scowl tugging her eyebrows together. “Or what the defenders will have rigged up.”
“My uncle will have thought of something,” Tenzin says wryly, just as Lord Zuko snorts “Sokka will come up with something.” They share a dry, familial chuckle and Bolin misses Mako. Their Ba Sing Se family is great, incredible, the best, but Bolin feels off-balance without Mako, like he’s missed a step and about to fall down a flight of stairs. He wonders if Mako misses him too.
There’s one thing Bolin never doubted, growing up, and that was Mako’s love for him. Even when things were bad, even when Mako was worn down into a thin, sharp razorblade of a person, Bolin knew they’d always have each other because his brother loved him with the all-consuming, feverish love of a person who had nothing else left. Sometimes he’d wonder if Mako liked him, especially when things were bad and Mako was angry all the time, but he never doubted Mako loved him. And Bolin loved him with the devotion of a small child whose whole world begins and ends with his big brother, the only person who’s always there, the only person who can always make everything alright again.
(This is a secret Bolin has never told anyone, but there were times where he didn’t like Mako very much, when they were young and he didn’t understand why Mako wouldn’t let him talk to strangers, why Mako was always so cautious, always so paranoid, so protective, why they couldn’t just have fun instead of always running, always fighting, always working. And here’s another secret – Bolin can’t remember their mom and dad, not really. And he used to get angry with Mako because he was so stingy with the memories he had, that Bolin didn’t. But that wasn’t fair, and even as a child, Bolin knew it.)
Mako is his brother and he loves him and likes him, but it’s been a strange year for Bolin, realizing that he’s always, at least a little bit, even when he’s been living as opposite to Mako in all his Mako-ness as possible, thought of himself as one half of a matched set. It’s strange figuring out all over again who Bolin-without-Mako is.
“Any word from President Raiko?” Tenzin asks.
“He won’t commit forces,” Zuko says, “Technically, Kyoshi Island was never officially recognized as separate from the Earth Kingdom. That makes this an internal Earth Kingdom matter, and interfering would violate a treaty.”
“Uh, does some old treaty matter when the government that made it is kaput and there’s a dictator running around dictator-ing?” Bolin objects.
Tenzin holds up his hands helplessly.
“United Republic forces interfering in the business of another country would set a dangerous precedent,” Lord Zuko sighs, “I can understand Raiko’s position, even if it is personally inconvenient for me.”
Bolin huffs. Well, now he feels a little bit childish, but that’s his brother out there! And a whole island of people! Including, apparently, Sokka, who is not dead and Bolin totally wants to meet someday!
“The Air Nation has no such restrictions,” Tenzin says. “While I will not commit any of my people or air bison to combat, it is within our purview to offer humanitarian aid and help with the evacuation efforts.”
“I hate politics,” Bolin groans.
“Which is really too bad, because you’d be great at them,” Opal says consolingly.
“You think so, babe?”
“Yeah,” her cheeks dimple, “You’ve got great hair and you love lying!”
Bolin huffs, “I act, I perform, I art, I don’t lie!”
“I have great hair, but I’ve been reliably informed I’m terrible at lying,” Zuko opines.
“Maybe that’s why they made you stop being Fire Lord,” Opal jokes.
Zuko shrugs, “Maybe. Mostly I think Druk just got too big for the palace.”
“Can we get back to planning the Kyoshi Operation?” Lin snaps, “I’m going grey over here!”
Bolin, Asami, and Opal all look at her distinctly entirely grey hair and collectively decide not to comment.
…
Kyoshi
The first wave of the attack is ships. They bring down the gate and teams of liberated lightning benders send sheets of lighting cascading down the chain nets. They’ve been running drills ever since they got the nets in place, and Ty Lee let the local spirits know what they were planning before the first drill, so the animals know to steer clear of that patch of ocean.
All except for the Unagi.
The Unagi, Mako suspects, is no naturally occurring creature at all, but is a leftover from the days when spirits and humans freely passed between the worlds. Like sky bison and dragons and badgermoles. The Unagi likes the lightning net. It seems to derive greater power from it. It frolics in the sparking, electric seas when they run drills. And now, with metal ships to play with and an ocean full of lightning, the Unagi is having the time of its salty, potentially-quasi-immortal life.
“She’ll come up with something else,” Wu warns, “She’s wicked smart and she doesn’t like to give up.”
“Oh, yeah, there’s no way this is this easy,” Sokka agrees, “But look how happy Fishy is!”
“You named the Unagi ‘Fishy’?” Mako says flatly.
“He needed a name,” the old man grins.
Mako wonders, yet again, how Sokka has gone down in history as one of the most brilliant strategists in modern history and yet, if left to his own devices, he names the deadliest predator in the Southern Seas ‘Fishy’.
…
Republic City
Toph kicks in the door because she’s Toph and she can’t not make an entrance. “SPARKY!” she booms.
“Yes, old friend?” Zuko says serenely, channeling his uncle with all the power in his soul.
“WHY AM I NOT PART OF YOUR KYOSHI ISLAND FIELD TRIP?”
“We didn’t know if you’d want to come,” he says. He is calm, he is serene, he is the undisturbed surface of a decorative pond in a peaceful garden. He is pissing Toph off because that’s what you do when one of your best friends decides to become a recluse and not visit for an annoying number of years.
“WHO SAYS I DON’T WANT TO FIGHT SOME METAL BENDERS? I INVENTED METAL BENDING! YOU NEED ME TO TEACH THESE PUNKS A LESSON!”
“You said you were retired,” Zuko says. He is the calmest, most collected individual in the universe. The world has not seen calm until it has seen him. “We were trying to respect your wishes.”
“YOU CAN TAKE YOUR RESPECT AND SHOVE IT. LIFE CHANGING FIELD TRIP OR NOTHING, SPARKY!”
“Are you sure? You were just complaining about your back…” Zuko has never been prouder of himself. Forget telling off his war criminal father and helping the Avatar save the world from his family, this is his greatest achievement.
Toph actually shrieks. “YOU WANT TO GO, SPARKY BOY, LET’S FUCKING GO!”
“To Kyohsi Island, correct? You want to be part of this? To be involved in world events?”
“QUIT DAWDLING, WE’VE GOT BUTTS TO KICK!”
Zuko grins to himself. This is the most vibrant he’s seen Toph in years. Screw peaceful retirement, she always needed a challenge.
…
Kyoshi Island
“Mako, wake up, they’re coming up the mountains.”
Mako comes awake violently, a fistful of fire in hand. Wu, expecting it, swerves out of the way. Grey pre-dawn light drains the room of color and the orange flames in his hand cast their faces in strange, monstrous shadows.
“What do you mean?” Mako demands, extinguishing his hand and pulling on his overshirt and boots.
Wu’s eyes are wild and his hair isn’t much better, little curls escaping the tie he’s used to pull it back into a short, fluffy tail. “They brought cargo ships around, they must have hired them out of a major port city, they made anchor on the mountain side of the island and the mecha suits Varrick was working on for Kuvira? They’re climbing the cliffs.”
“Shit,” Mako swears. He’s seen the rough sketches Wu made of Varrick’s various projects. Of all his prototypes, Wu had said, Varrick’s mecha suits were the closest to completion. There were just a few issues to iron out with the flame throwers.
Because mechanical armor wasn’t bad enough. They had to throw flames too.
Sure, Mako can throw flames, but he isn’t twice the height of an adult and made of steel.
“Does Suki know?” Mako asks, charging out of his room, shirt half tied and one boot not fully fastened.
“She knows. They’re trying to manage the evacuation, but…”
But there’s nowhere for the civilians to go. They’ve got the fleet on the harbor side, and the mecha coming up the mountains.
“We’d better hope Asami got our letters,” Mako says, “Our only hope is air evacuation.”
Wu nods, pensive. He’s got the fans Suki gave him shoved through his belt, although he’s not dressed like a warrior today. He doesn’t even really look like a king. He looks young and scared and angry and heartbreakingly beautiful.
“Hey,” Mako stops, catching Wu’s shoulders in his hands. He can hear the garrison waking up around them, the sounds of feet running for the armory, voices calling to each other as the Warriors ready for war. Wu’s hands, fluttering restlessly in front of him, settle on Mako’s shirt. He starts undoing and redoing all the ties Mako got wrong as if on reflex.
Mako doesn’t really do inspiring speeches, but he’s going to try, “We’ve made it this far. We’re not giving up now.”
Wu laughs tightly. “Yeah.” His hands tighten in the fabric of Mako’s shirt. “At least this time we aren’t on a train.”
“I say this from the bottom of my heart, but fuck trains.” Mako says.
That’s enough to startle a laugh out of Wu, and he’s still smiling a little, even if his eyes are strained and sad when he leans in to press a kiss to Mako’s lips. “See you on the other side…buddy.”
“No. This is not a thing. You kissing me and calling me ‘buddy’ cannot be our thing.”
Wu kisses him again. “Too late. Now we have to survive this just so you can lose this argument.” And with that he whirls away to join Ty Lee in organizing the civilian evacuation.
“Raava in a teapot.” Mako swears and runs off to join the fire benders.
…
Sokka and the Warriors built catapults and the non-bending warriors are using them to keep back the advancing mecha. The forest is a blazing wall of heat where even the winter-damp trees have caught, branches going up like torches in the face of the fire spewing from the suits’ hands. The civilians have retreated to the sea-caves that dot the shoreline. Sokka had been hesitant to send them underground, where an earth bender could trap them, but in the face of the advancing flames, the caves became their best and only option.
Mako is on the front line when the mecha first begin to emerge from the smoldering forest, huge, hulking things lumbering forward on two legs, armed to the teeth and he remembers with a shiver the secret workshop under Asami’s house, and the weapons her father was building for the Equalists. Behind him, Kyoka calls out a command, and he hears the creak and crash of the catapults releasing. The mecha stagger under the assault, one or two collapsing under direct hits, but the majority continue to advance.
Mako calls up lightning, feeling it crackle beneath his skin as it builds and he sends it arching towards the nearest suit. The bolt takes it in the chest plate and it wobbles but rights itself, sending a wave of fire towards him. Mako, echoing a half-remembered water bending move he’d seen from Korra parts the wave, claiming the fire for himself, spinning it around his body and sending it back at the mecha in a concentrated blast. It slows, the heat briefly overwhelming it, but continues. Mako swears and skitters out of its sightline, hoping the helmet configuration limits the rider’s vision.
The forest fire is escalating into an inferno and a wave of heat batters Mako as he scrambles away from the advancing machine. He calls up lightning again, but this time he concentrates on the ground in front of the mecha’s feet, remembering that wobble. He races around until he’s almost behind the machine, at an angle, and blasts lightning into the back of the mecha’s knees. Sparks erupt from the joint and the mecha seizes, toppling forward into the ground.
Mako jumps onto its back while it’s down, grabs a fistful of wires in each hand and melts them to slag. The mecha shudders and goes still.
Mako can’t catch his breath, though, a wave of heat crashes over his shoulders and he yelps, rolling off the mecha to crouch behind it as flames crash over the downed machine. He crawls forward, trying to get a visual on the mecha that has him pinned down, calling up more lightning and firing blind, his heart in his throat. He must hit something, because the flamethrower stops just long enough for him to lunge out of hiding, just in time to dodge the steel fists of a new mecha. He calls up seed lightning in his palms and grabs the elbow joint, sending electricity arching up into the machine, which seizes, but he can’t pause, because the first mecha fires a grappling hook at his head, one of the sharp hooks grazing in his mostly-healed face.
“Fuck!” Mako curses as the sharp edge catches on his still-tender scars, tearing one of them open and sending a trickle of blood down his cheekbone.
Remembering what he’d done when he’d been kidnapped by the biker gang (that feels eons away now, almost like it happened to another person, in another life, back when his biggest concern was not getting ripped off by the transport authority and Wu was teasing him about keeping his money in his socks) Mako slams his hands into the ground and sends a wave of heat through the earth.
The mechas, top-heavy and ungainly as they are, wobble, and the nearest one crashes into its neighbor, taking it down with it. Mako shoves himself to his feet and keeps going. The heat is unbearable, a heavy, hungry thing baking the sweat from his skin as he runs. The payloads from the catapults thunder around him, and he wonders if this is what it would be like to be absorbed by Vaatu in all his chaotic glory.
Mako spots another mecha advancing on a catapult crew and calls up more lightning. He’s not done yet.
…
A persistent, lone mecha has broken from the herd and chased the group of refugees Wu was guiding, cutting them off from the rest of the civilians in the sea caves. Ahnah is beating it back with the ocean, swamping with ice-studded wave after ice-studded wave, yelling at them to go while she has it pinned down. The mecha bulls through the ice restraints she throws at it and Wu is practically carrying an old grandmother as they scramble for the caves and shelter. He’s reminded viscerally of the Great Divide and the canyon crawlers.
Ahnah is screaming in helpless rage as she ices the sand beneath the mecha, trying to topple it, but whoever is at the controls is crafty, or at least quick, because it rights itself at the last second every time. It shoots fire at Ahnah and she calls up a wave to shield herself, the water disappearing in a great gout of steam where the water touches it. She yelps, scalded.
The grandmother Wu is supporting stumbles on the uneven ground and he catches her. Somewhere a child is crying.
The mecha swings a fist at Ahnah, catching a glancing blow across the water bender’s shoulder, and she stumbles.
Wu hands the grandmother off to waiting hands at the cave mouth and turns, instincts screaming at him to run, but run where, he doesn’t know.
And then, like a blessing from Raava herself, a deep, throaty, inhuman bellow from above, echoed by a screaming, vicious, reptilian roar.
A red dragon crashes into the mecha, scooping the machine up like a doll, tearing the hatch off and extracting the shocked, gibbering pilot and tossing him, chair and all, down the beach. His seatbelt, of all things, is still buckled.
The drago hurls the mecha contemptuously into harbor, then turns to the terrified refugees.
“I heard there was a problem,” says a raspy, cultured voice, “We thought we’d bring some help.”
An air bison crashes to the beach beside the dragon and bellows in agreement.
“Everyone!” calls a man in air bender robes seated on the bison’s head, “We can take one group on Oogi at a time, try to move in an orderly fashion!”
The villagers stand, stunned, for a breathless moment.
“You heard the man with bison!” someone yells – wait, no, that’s Wu, that is him, Wu Hou-Ting, the boy who was never allowed to speak above a soft murmur in her majesty’s presence yelling like some common street urchin. He hopes his aunt is spinning in her grave. “Elders and children first, no shoving, we don’t have all day!”
“Will you come back for the rest of us?” asks someone in the crowd.
“Yes,” the air bender – this must be Master Tenzin, Wu will have to be starstruck later – says, “Oogi and I will take each group to the air ship above us,” he points above his head, and Wu cranes his neck to see, wow, a Future Industries airship floating above them. “We’ll do our best to come back for all of you.”
“What about the Warriors and the benders?” someone asks, “they’re back at the village where the fighting is worse!”
“We’re already sending help,” the man on the dragon – Lord Zuko, that’s LORD ZUKO, If, they weren’t in such dire straits Wu might faint – says, “And speaking of, I should be on my way.”
“Take me with you – ” Wu lunges forward to stand at the dragon’s shoulder, “I need to go back for someone.”
“Young man,” Master Tenzin begins quellingly.
“Not a negotiation, Master Tenzin,” Wu snaps without thinking, well, there goes all those lessons on diplomacy down the drain, “Please, Lord Zuko,” he says, bowing in the Fire Nation style. Mako will be furious to know he had the chance to get out of here and ‘sqaundered’ it on going back for him, but what Mako doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
“Well, come on, if you’re coming,” Zuko huffs, extending a hand to him and hauling him up, “Your Majesty.”
“That’s – ?” Tenzin pauses in hauling a child up onto the air bison’s back.
“Bye, Tenzin, I’ll tell Sokka you say hi,” Zuko says, dragging Wu up behind him, the dragon already lunging skyward.
Master Tenzin is sputtering behind them, “My eighty-some-odd-year-old uncle is AT THE FRONT?!”
Wu can feel the former Fire Lord chuckle beside him. “Ah, his face. The only thing better than making a good entrance is making an emphatic exit.”
Wu clings to the back of his jacket and wonders if all old people are this whimsical.
…
Toph, despite the teasing she’d directed at Zuko, chooses to ride with her granddaughter and Opal’s squirrely boyfriend. Toph has never met an earth bender as Vaatu-blasted squirrely as this Bolin character. Downright jittery, this one. His brother is more rooted than he is. Maybe it’s the lava bender in him. They’re restless types, lava benders.
“So, um, Toph, it is extremely wonderful and terrifying to meet you, I’m a big fan of your work,” babbles the squirrely kid.
“You talking about Opal or changing the course of bender history?” Toph drawls just to make him squirm.
“Um…both? Both is good…”
Lin harumphs on the other side of the saddle. Honest to Raava harrumphs. Like Appa used to. That girl is more and more like Toph every day. She’s not sure if she’s proud or not.
“Stop bickering,” Opal calls, “And Grandma, stop tormenting my boyfriend!”
“I’m making conversation!” Toph protests.
“Well stop conversing, we’re here,” Opal’s voice sobers.
Toph hears the creak of the saddle and Lin’s faint “Shit.”
“What’s going on?” she asks, hating how blind she becomes up here in the air.
“The forest’s on fire,” Lin says, “somehow they got up the cliff. Opal, bring us down behind the front line.”
“On it,” Opal confirms, “Be ready, everyone.”
They land in a nightmare. This does not seem to bother Toph, who jumps out of the saddle cracking her knuckles and yelling bloody murder, Lin screaming a frustrated “MOTHER!” after her. Somewhere in the distance there’s a muffled boom followed by a crackling corona of lightning.
“That can’t be good,” Lin says, swinging herself out of the saddle and after her mother.
“Toph!” yells an old woman in full Kyoshi warrior getup, “What are you doing here?”
“SAVING YOUR BUTTS, AS USUAL!”
Bolin sees a fresh wave of mechas charging out of the burning woods. He braces himself, twists his wrists in a now-familiar way, cracking open the earth and sending lava lapping at the things’ ankles.
“NEAT TRICK KID, DO IT AGAIN!” Toph shouts.
“Toph complimented me?” Bolin blurts, “Hey, hey, babe, Toph complimented me!”
“I know!” Opal yells, “I was there!” She turns to the defending warriors, “EVERYONE ABOARD, WE’RE GETTING YOU OUT OF HERE!”
Toph, who can move crazy fast for an old lady, is already pulling a stone wall out of the ground and using it to body-slam mechas back from the defending line.
There’s another explosion somewhere, the explosions are getting closer. Lin and the elderly Kyoshi Warrior have jumped on crowd control, herding defenders into an organized retreat to Opal and her air bison. Bolin punches pools of lava under individual mechas, sinking them up to their knees.
“What’s exploding?” Opal asks as she hauls an injured Warrior up onto the bison.
“The fire benders are over that way,” the Warrior tells her, “Most of the lightning benders are on the Gate, but Kya didn’t clear Mako for Gate duty so he’s there with the rest of them.”
“That’s probably him,” another Warrior says, “He’s the only lightning bender left on the front.”
Mako. “That’s my brother!” Bolin yells, “I have to go get my brother!”
“Go!” Opal yells, “Go get the rest of them!”
“I’m going, I’m going!” Bolin leans over, pecking her on the lips and bolting away. He hears the rush of wind as she scoops up Warriors too injured to make the climb up the bison.
…
Druk touches down in an inferno. Lightning arcs and crackles around Mako where he stands in the middle of a blasted, wasted landscape. “Mako!” Wu yells to him.
The fire bender turns, his face is streaked with blood, ash, and sweat. “Wu? Where’d you get a dragon?”
“Where are the other fire benders, young man?” Zuko asks.
“Lord Zuko!” Mako makes a vaguely bow-shaped gesture. He’s shaking with exhaustion. “They’re that way,” Mako gestures, “We got separated.”
“Get on,” Zuko instructs, “You’ve done enough.”
Mako pauses, looks around, like he’s still searching for something to fight.
“Come on,” Wu says, “Let’s get the rest of our people.”
Mako gets on the dragon.
…
Bolin is carving moats of lava between fleeing fire benders and advancing mechas. There seem to be fewer than before, maybe they’re finally running out of prototypes to hurl at them. The fire benders flee through a corridor of lava and stone built by Toph and Bolin, to where Opal waits with her bison and the warriors.
A straggling mecha lurches towards an injured fire bender at the back of the line. Bolin whirls, ready to hurl a boulder at the thing when lightning arcs out of the sky to blast the mecha, making it stagger and a dragon’s talon jumps forward to seize the mecha and hurl it away.
“Thanks, scary motherfucker!” yells the fire bender.
“I told you to stop calling me that!” roars a familiar voice and Bolin, bizarrely, might start crying in the middle of this very intense battle.
An old man, incongruously dressed in full, traditional Southern Water Tribe warrior garb pauses in front of Bolin to say, “Good job, kiddo,” and wink.
“Sokka, what are you doing here, you lunatic?” Lord Zuko snaps, jumping down from Druk to herd the other man towards Opal.
“What are you doing here?” Sokka pokes him in the chest, “I live here!”
“Just get on the bison,” Zuko huffs, taking him by the elbows, sighing when Sokka sags tiredly in place, and steering him towards Lin and Opal.
Bolin is running towards the dragon, bolting for his brother, when the ground shakes and cracks beneath his feet. Several people cry out and Bolin turns to see more mecha creeping towards them.
“MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!” Lin roars.
Bolin cranes his neck to see Zuko, Sokka, and the last of the evacuees scrambling onto the air bison. There’s a ringing in his ears. The world is a blazing smear around him, too hot, too bright, too close.
“BOLIN, GET ON THE VAATU BLASTED DRAGON OR SO HELP ME!” Mako roars.
Bolin lurches and runs for him. His brother’s hands come down and catch his, hauling him up onto Druk’s neck.
“LORD ZUKO,” yells a new voice, and Bolin squints against the ash stinging his eyes and sees a new person he hadn’t noticed before behind Mako, clinging to his brother’s waist, half holding him up as he sways in place.
‘TAKE DRUK, GO!” Lord Zuko commands.
“LORD ZUKO!” the second man pleads.
“DRUK, GO HOME!” Lord Zuko orders and beneath them the dragon tenses, ready to launch.
“WHAT?” shouts the stranger.
The chaos around them smothers most of what Zuko says next. Bolin only catches a few words. Something like “Korra” and “Balance” but they don’t have a chance to ask Zuko follow-up questions because Druk is taking off, whether or not they’re ready. Bolin clutches his brother, who wraps a protective arm around him almost on reflex, the stranger clinging to Mako’s back and keeping all three of them upright in the saddle.
Druk slices through the air, Kyoshi Island shrinking beneath them. Bolin sees Opal and company taking off and heading for Asami’s airship.
“WHERE DO YOU THINK WE’RE GOING?” Bolin yells.
“HOPEFULLY SOMEWHERE LESS ON FIRE,” the stranger yells back.
Well. Bolin can’t really argue with that.
Druk flies on, leaving Kyoshi Island burning behind them.
…
Dear Mako,
We made it out of Kyoshi Island with everyone in one piece, except for Bolin, Wu and YOU, because apparently Lord Zuko accidentally-on-purpose told his dragon to kidnap the three of you.
I’m…so tired. So very tired.
Asami