Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Soulmates were a big thing in the southern water tribe when Sokka was a kid. As they were everywhere else he figured. It changed when the Fire Nation raids ended up killing his mother. 

Shortly after, his father and every other male had left the village to aid the earth kingdom in fighting in the war. They couldn’t stand beside and let their newborns, their soulmates, or their village, burn bright crimson against the summer snow. 

It was a subject they tended to shy away from now.

They didn’t leave more skilled than any hunter even if they trained for many months before leaving. Instead of training alongside them, he got stuck with Katara aiding Gran in delivering the next generation of the village. Just his luck.

Everyone else got to fight for who they lost and to protect who they cared for, so why couldn’t he?

He sat on the seashore, using fresh snow to wipe off his face paint, while the older men boarded the ships. He counted the waves as they pushed and pulled in the moonlight; not watching as his father sailed into the horizon.

“I need you to stay and take care of things around here for me. You and your sister,” Hakoda affirmed before messing up Sokka’s hair. 

Regardless of how his father put it, they were being left alone again.

Every time he closed his eyes, Sokka remembered those words. With a groan, he flung himself back onto the snow and watched the stars twinkle above. His eyes itched and watered but Sokka didn’t feel sad enough to cry. He didn’t know what he was feeling.

He had never felt so lost in his life. A shooting star broke apart in the sky and for a brief moment, Sokka wondered what his mother would say if she was here—she always knew what to say. He was about to kindle the small fire when Katara appeared from behind him. 

“You should be sleeping.” Sokka sat up, before pushing around the snow with a small stick.

She sat down with a huff.

“Yeah and who left you in charge?” 

“Dad did.” 

Katara was silent at first, her focus somewhere far on the horizon before she looked over to him once again. “Someone had to make sure you came back home in one piece. I was beginning to wonder if you had found some way to cling on the boats and stow away.” 

“Wish I did.” Sokka snorted.

Katara smacked him with her gloved hand. “Being here is not so bad, you know.” She glowered.

Sokka didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled his knees to his chest and watched as the fire blinked and the embers floated away.

Katara sighed and her muscles relaxed. “What did he say anyway?”

“Take care of the village for him. You and me.” Sokka threw his hands up, “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Fish? Help around? Seems sort of straightforward to me.” Katara shrugged. 

“Thanks,” he dropped his hands into his lap. "That's great advice." he sneered, causing Katara to roll her eyes.

She hoisted herself up sneezing when a gust of wind blew by. “Do your normal chores, and I’m sure things will work themselves out. Dad wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t believe in you. You just have to be patient for once in your life.”

He shivered, looking towards the shooting star again only to find it faded away. “I suppose so.” 

“Come on. Let’s go home before you catch a cold,” Katara mumbled before kicking out the fire.

The next morning came quicker than he would have liked. His eyes kept closing while he waited for the fish to take the bait. In the end, it took three hours before he could fill one basket with common soles and a few anchovies. 

He didn’t expect to carry back a couple baskets but he was sure he’d have at least two. Sokka clenched his jaw as he stored the fish away with the rest of the rations in the shallow pit. 

The men had left some food behind, rations to hold for a while. They planned to come back when they could, but that didn’t mean Sokka could slack off. Especially if his father was counting on him.

Three months in, the women in the village started calling him “Little Chief”. The nickname made his ears tingle and his cheeks warm. He is thirteen years old now. He wasn’t little anymore. 

He tapped at his knees when forced to sit down. Katara’s keen eyes followed the box in Gran Gran’s hands as she kneeled on the floor. Gran Gran then dipped her thumb into the box and pressed a black thumbprint to his forehead. She smiled and looked at Katara who in turn gave the box to Sokka.

“What do I say?” Sokka stared at the brush as the ink spread along its bristles.

“Anything you want dear. A simple hello should suffice.” Gran Gran chuckled.

Sokka wrote out hello, focusing on each stroke’s legibility. Then they waited.

Nothing came. 

“Maybe they didn’t see it?” Sokka searched their faces for some sort of answer. Neither of the two could look at him.

Nothing came the next day either. 

His soulmate bond came and went and yet no messages littered his skin. Sokka found it hard to finish dinner. Instead of eating he made it a point to twirl the stick holding his halibut around. Katara had gone off to practice her bending yet Gran Gran stayed behind—staring at him when she thought he wouldn't notice.

"What if I don't get a soulmate? What if they died?"

Gran Gran chuckled, "Sokka, it is more than likely that they are younger than you. Even if you don't, there's no need to worry."

She took the fish out of his hands.

"Your grandfather and I were not soulmates, and I loved him all the same."

It wasn't until the first year passed that Sokka realized his dad wasn’t going to be coming home as much as they hoped they would.

Winter was going to be harsh. The howling wind battered against the sides of their yurt. Sokka yawned as he shifted in his bedroll, struggling to sleep. They were lucky that Katara and their neighbor Imeni helped him gather pelts and fish yesterday before the weather turned. 

Sokka was about to close his eyes when the wind seemed to creep closer, and louder. He sat up, and pressed his ear to the wall. The noise continued but Sokka was sure now it wasn’t the wind, an animal had invaded the village.

He scrambled to get out of his sleeping bag and without a second thought, his hand wrapped around his whale’s tooth scimitar. (The fire nation once ransacked their village for Katara.  He prepared to protect her if it happened again.) He leapt to his feet and shook his sister.

“Katara.” 

She snored in response. A muffled groan came again and Sokka’s blood ran cold. 

“Katara.” He hissed, harshly shaking her shoulders.

“Sokka.” She whined annoyed until Sokka held a palm to her mouth. 

He pointed outside. “Polar bear.” Her eyes widened and she hoisted herself to her elbows. 

A shrill cry blended with the wind. Sokka’s heart leaped to his throat as he sprinted to the door; stopping first to grab the spear mounted above the threshold with his open hand. 

The wind nearly knocked him over the moment he stepped outside. He turned his head sharply to the warmth funneling from the open door, “Keep Gran Gran safe. Stay here!” 

He ran to Imeni’s Igloo, where the cries had come from. The polar bear had broken the door down. The icey walls were filled with holes. Despite being outside, he had a full view of what happened. Blood stained white fur and blue ice, the animal covered the rest—Sokka regretted feeling lucky. Feeling sick, he threw the scimitar towards the beast.

Sokka was never lucky. 

It sliced off its ear and embedded itself into the creature's forehead. It did little less to the creature other than tick it off. 

He was going to die.

His hands trembled around the spear as the bear bared its sharp teeth in a roar. He clenched his jaw. 

No one was here to help him.

He swung the spear forward. Gasping when his feet slid forward as the bear lunged. 

The world seemed to move in slow motion as he fell backwards onto the ice. While he tried to keep hold of the spear, his hands started slipping down the bone shaft. He winced as he felt resistance against the spear.

Sokka opened his eyes as the creature groaned and whimpered above him. A heaviness settled on his legs and lower stomach causing him to grunt. Warm liquid soaked his pant leg and began to puddle in his shoes. 

It was over. Sokka caught his breath and started blinking rapidly. He wasn’t dead. “Katara, did you see that!? KA—” He reared his head to the right, only to find she was already outside; her hands raised, determination written on her face.

Sokka shivered as the ice below him froze again. She was the reason he slipped. He sighed letting his head fall back and hit the ground. “I thought I told you to keep Gran Gran safe.”

“You could have died.” 

He opened his mouth to object, he didn't need her help, shouldn’t have to rely on it. “Thanks, Katara.” Maybe he wasn’t as alone as he assumed. “Go wake up Mialle and Non and tell them what’s happened. We’ll need their help to lift this thing off me.”

“I could try.” Katara walked closer, her arms still extended. Sokka looked over into the hut and back to her. She didn’t need to see this.

“Katara,” he snapped. The word itched in his throat; coming out more brash than he intended but it stopped Katara in her tracks.

“Katara it’s like as heavy as an arctic camel!” He flung his arms up towards the beast, in a joking manner. Katara huffed, rolling her eyes before taking off towards the house.   

Sokka barely had time to recount what had happened in his mind before the two came back. “Where’s Katara?” He asked. 

They grunted as they lifted the bear, "Fetching water. You should go see your grandmother to get checked for injuries." He nodded and walked off, still in a daze.

His grandmother took him by the hand and gently sat him down. “I’m proud of you. You and your sister Katara. Taking down a fully grown polar bear. Not many would have survived such an encounter.” A tear slid down her face. 

Guilt settled into his throat. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed and waved him off. “Let’s forget about that for now.”

The process took forever. On the bright side, Sokk came out relatively unscathed; aside from some scratches and bruises from when he slipped.

“Your soulmates asking if you’re okay.” She pointed to his knee. 

His eyes bulged out of his head. “What?!” He brought his knee to his face, dropping on the seat behind him. There it was in all its glory.

‘What’s with all this blood? Is it all yours? Are you okay?’

“Be Careful.” His grandmother scolded him.

“How can I be careful?” He let out a short laugh smiling. “I’ve been waiting for this for months now! Do we have any Ink?”

“After you get dressed .” She smiled and pointed back to a new set of clothes. "Your parka was looking rather tight on you. It was time."

By the time they finished, Sokka had left again to help the others with the burial ritual for Imeni. She wasn't young, but it was still his first burial since his father told him to protect those left. The words rang in his ears; he had failed. He shifted against the wall of his home.

He was in charge of watching the fire; the rest had gone back to their homes to sleep before their young ones woke up. Gran Gran had brought him the ink set to keep him company. He tried to grip the brush with his covered hand but it slipped out of his grasp and onto the snow.

He winced when he took the gloves off, the wind bit at his fingers but the fire kept the process bearable.

There were a few things that he realized since the first question popped up on his skin. 

Sokka’s first reply was in response to something he did. It wasn’t a 'hello', 'are you there', or even an 'I’ve been looking for you.' Which meant that his soulmate was probably--no, definitely older than him.

They read his message months ago and they hadn’t responded all this time. They ignored him.

‘ A polar bear killed my neighbor. I’m fine .’

☼

Zuko awoke to his legs itching as if he danced on a lava ant’s nest. He groaned and got out of bed to wash his face when he looked in the mirror and stopped. Specks of blood covered the bottom part of his face. 

“What the fuck?” Zuko whispered. He ran a thumb against his chin expecting the blood to wipe away. When it didn't, Zuko reared back from his reflection. 

He hiked his pants up, where red swallowed up to his knees. “What the fuck?!” 

A knock came at the door. “Go away!” Zuko threw his arm out trying to stop the door from opening but Iroh slipped in anyway. 

“The terrors again?” Iroh’s head was between the door and room but made no move to enter fully. 

“No!” 

Iroh looked down at Zuko’s reddened limbs and then at the Inkstone box beside the boy. 

Zuko scoffed. “Can’t you ever leave things be, uncle? I don’t need your help!”

Iroh’s demeanor did not change, but Zuko swears that the old guy was trying not to smile. He narrowed his eyes at his uncle’s words. “If you’re worried, you can ask them. It doesn’t have to mean more than that nephew.” With that, he left and silence filled the room once again.

It couldn’t hurt? He was going to say something anyway. It was time to tell his soulmate what he thought about the whole system.

‘What’s with all this blood?’ 

Direct and to the point, like his sister or his father. His eyes twitched at the thought of his father having a soulmate. Growing up he believed that his parents were soulmates. He didn't know how to feel when one night, after spying around with Azula, they spotted their mother with writing on her arm. Writing that didn't match their father's scrawl.

It made sense. Zuko still remembers Azula running down the hall to ask their father about it.

"I do not have a soulmate, for my soul is strong enough on its own." His father boasted.

His sister smiled in awe, she was only eight at the time yet she stood half his height. It did little to hide her Machiavellian demeanor. "I hope I won't have one either."

If she got what she wanted, it would only exaggerate Zuko's wrongness further.

‘Is it all yours?’ 

It would make sense for his soulmate to be as ruthless as everyone else he had encountered in his life. His father, Azula, Admiral Zhao, Another name on that list wouldn't be out of place. There was Iroh though, and while a fool in his opinion, it was the closest he’d get to normalcy. 

The alternative was that his soulmate was dying and Zuko chose to ignore the way his heart sank. They ignored each other's presence. There was no need to feel guilty; his mission had to come first, above all else.

He tapped his foot against the floor and Iroh’s words echoed in his head.

It didn't have to mean anything.

‘Are you okay?’

He paced. An hour passed and Zuko paced. There was no answer. No note as the red disappeared. Nothing. Butterflies began to eat his stomach, with the threat of a broken bond looming over his head. It didn’t have to mean anything.

The second hour passed and he could not stop yawning. He dropped onto the bed with a huff. If it weren’t for the shaking of his leg, he could have fallen asleep sitting up. An itch caused him to fling the covers off. It didn’t mean anything. 

‘ A polar bear attacked my neighbor. I’m fine.’ 

Zuko sighed in relief as the words lettered his skin. It was irking, the way his stomach settled with the knowledge that they were not bleeding out. He shouldn’t care. He repeated the words. It meant nothing.

He reread the words again. 

Polar bear. 

It was a damning sentence. The fire nation didn’t have any colonies in the poles. The cold made it hard to keep their strength and control. Of course his soulmate would be on the other side of the war. It couldn’t mean anything.

It had been two years since Zuko had been banished and sent to search for the avatar. He wasn’t helping anyone by talking with his soulmate from the water tribe. He hesitated reaching for the brush.

‘Good’

His uncle was wrong. 

It meant everything. 

Zuko needed to draw a line. For their sake as much as his. That would be the last message he would ever send. His soulmate never sent him messages anyway. It wouldn’t be a problem.

The night came and went, and the morning sun flitting through the clouds caused Zuko to yawn. He leaned against the side of the ship, watching the icebergs on the horizon. They weren’t close enough to be on the frontlines but they were skidding close to dangerous waters. 

He tucked his hands under his arms, focusing on warming himself with his breathing like Iroh taught him but it still left him shivering.

The ship was stopping for rations in some out-stretched colony town near the Southern pole. It was a small place, with only a few kids his age that he could see.

“Does the southern water tribe have polar bear attacks?” Zuko asked in a hushed tone while the crew mates began boarding the boat once again. 

Iroh raised a brow, flitting his eyes to Zuko while fixating on the shore. “Yes… I wouldn’t say as far as here, however. The animal would have to be desperate to get so close to humans.”

”Oh.”

”Fearing an attack?”  

“No. I was merely curious.” Zuko turned his face towards the men walking onto the boat. “What are you doing? Stop lazing around!”

Zuko’s hand prickled, causing him to swat at the assumed bug offender, only to find cursive there instead. “I have to go. Set off for the Southern Air temple!” The men looked between each other but said nothing, causing Zuko’s eye to twitch. 

He opened the door to the cabin and nearly ran into firstmate Lee. Lee’s eyes did not meet Zuko’s scowling face but rather the elegant scrawl on his hand. The man’s eyebrow twitched upwards and he fought a smirk as he casted his eyes upwards. 

Zuko would not acknowledge it. To acknowledge it would be failure and while Zuko was struggling to regain his honor, he was not a failure. He covered his hand with the other before stepping beside him, not caring if he was pushing the man into the wall as he marched away.

He sighed in relief when he finally made it to his room bracing against the open door before slamming it. He walked over to the table before throwing his hand up to see what had earned him a month of hushed whispers and ‘inconspicuous’ stares.

’ So you’re real. That’s cool.’

Zuko scoffed, of course he was real. What did that even mean? He looked over to the ink stone box hesitantly. There was no reason to send another message to someone the universe had clearly wrongly chosen. 

‘What do you want?’

’Youch. Soulmates remember? Usually there’s an introduction process for this sort of thing. ’ The words slowly filled his forearm, leaving Zuko to hunch over as they filled in his arm. He clenched his teeth mulling his reply over in his head, as each painstaking letter marred his sweaty skin.

‘I don’t want a soulmate.’

The response took a while. Zuko sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. That was probably good enough to scare them off. 

‘Okay.’

‘All things bearing, you might change your mind. Let me know if you do. I’m not sure about having a soulmate anyways.”

That’s not what Zuko was expecting. 

Zuko replayed the look on the first mate’s face and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

‘Do not message me where it can be seen.’

‘So I can message you? You’re already going soft on me.’

Zuko rolled his eyes and watched as the writing on his hand disappeared. A knock came at the door.  Time for another useless lesson in breathing.

Chapter Text

Katara’s thirteenth birthday was tomorrow. Which meant that someone had to tell her. Prepare her for the possibility that no one might answer her. 

She wasn’t a hopeless romantic, but hope festered in her like an infectious disease; despite knowing how shit the world could get. It was one of the many things he admired about his sister and no he would never tell her that. 

In the year and a half since their father left, Katara helped him more than he would like to admit.

Her water-bending had come a long way (in comparison to before, when she could barely move a droplet) since she was a kid. It led to many, many, many, ‘accidents’. 

Like the time she tried to melt the snow off his boots, and ended up freezing them to the ground. They had spent the next 30 minutes picking the ice off with his club. Or when defrosted a week’s worth of fish, by accident, after they argued over whether halibut or kanpachi tasted better. (He actually wasn’t complaining about that one. They ate like kings that night. It wasn't until the next morning, when he had to fish and hunt all day to make up for it that he felt a ‘little’ bitter.)

He rowed the boat out and watched as Katara sewed up a hole in the arm of a parka. Lately, she had taken to following Sokka around when he fished in the early evenings. Usually, she trained then, because water took more skill than ice or whatever. Today she finished early.

He held the rod in hand and watched the water below, whispering as not to scare off the fish. “Katara…” He licked his lips unsure of how to address the topic. “No one will tell you, since most of the people in the village do have soulmates. But-” 

Katara cut him off. “They’ll respond.”

He envied the way she said it. She was so sure, so hopeful—determined even. It seemed impossible that they wouldn’t. It made sense with the way soulmates were dealt with in the tribe. While many kept their soul bond quiet, for the safety of their husbands and wives, it was still seen as a sacred tie to the spirit world. The boat rocked with the waves, scraping into some floating ice. “What if they’re younger than you?”

”Then I’ll wait.”

He set the rod down, turning his body towards her. The sun beamed behind her shoulder, reflecting off the tall Iceberg. He watched as the rays almost filled the swirls like they were almost sentient. Katara’s attention stayed on the needle.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Okay, and what if they do respond and they're like half a world away.”

She huffed and set her things aside. ”I’m not sticking around here forever.”

”You’ll leave then? Like that?”

Katara folded her arms. “No. Of course not, but I’m not going to get better at water-bending without some sort of teacher. You know that. Just because you don’t have one, doesn’t mean I couldn’t.”

His knee itched. He didn't know why he didn’t tell her. Sokka ignored her staring and focused on the water instead. The fish were long gone; no doubt scared off by all the noise. “Let’s head back home. It’s getting late and I still have to bolster our defenses. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I don’t think the wall’s going to do anything.”

Sokka gathered the rope into the boat. “It leaves us totally vulnerable to attack when they aren’t up.”

“Yeah, yeah, soldier. I got it.” 

He stayed up later than he meant to, and by the time he arrived home Katara and Gran Gran were already sleeping. He stretched and plopped on top of his bed. Might as well see what the fuss was about. 

‘Why aren’t you interested in soulmates?’

Sokka scribbled back on his knee, sighing at how inconvenient it was to have to take off his outer layer of clothes to write back. 

’Pleased to be on your mind. I could ask the same thing about you.’ He rested his head on the back of his hand, staring as the ink bloomed on his leg.

’My sister doesn’t have a soulmate, so I can’t have a soulmate.’

Sokka snorted, causing Katara to throw a blanket at his head.

’I can’t say I don’t get it, but what does that even mean?’

‘Stop switching the question around.’

’Rude. Answer for an answer?’

The answer took a while. 

‘Maybe.’ 

Sokka couldn’t help the laugh that fell at the sight of the word. His soulmate had the same personality as a two-headed salamander mole.

‘ I just don’t think that soulmates have to be the end all be all. It would be nice of course, my parents were soulmates after all, but I’d rather find my own way. Besides that, I already know you’re like on the other side of the world or something, and I don’t know if I’ll ever leave my village.’

’How would you know that?’

‘There are no children my age in my village. All the older men and women have left as a result of the war. Your turn.’

’Having a soulmate. Makes me weak.’

Sokka furrowed his eyebrows. It didn’t answer his question, but at least they were getting somewhere.

The ugly truth about soulmates was that the war was still going on. Part of being the Chief’s son meant that he had to go listen to his grandmother impart her wisdom. He could imagine that some of it was outdated. The idea sounded bogus, and he wasn’t afraid to say it like it was. 

’If everyone has one, why would that make you weak?’

“My father doesn’t. Everyone knows that.”

‘Sounds stu- like propaganda to me. Are you sure he doesn’t have a soulmate? I don't know if you've noticed, but we've been at war for the last hundred years. Chance is they died before reaching bond age or chose not to reply. Sounds awfully like someone we know.’ 

Sokka realized how little they knew about each other. He tapped the back of the brush to his knee before drawing little spirals on his kneecap. He had seen them while on a hunting trip with his father. He started playing with the walrus bone necklace his father gave him; it was supposed to be a bracelet, but Sokka was sick of it falling off his wrist as a kid.

‘Hey, can we write somewhere else?’

‘Absolutely fucking not.’

‘Unfortunate.’

An owl hooted in the distance. Sokka thought about what tomorrow would bring. 

‘My sister doesn’t have a soulmate, so I can’t have a soulmate.’ The words had already been washed from his skin, and they might as well have never happened. He couldn’t deny the bond that was there, the understanding almost. If Katara didn’t get hers tomorrow he wouldn’t bring up two-head. Was that even a good nickname for them?  

He got up and walked into Hakoda’s room. Sokka had the perfect gift in mind to cheer Katara up if things didn’t go well tomorrow. The only problem is it wasn’t his to give.

But his father wasn’t around to give it to her, nor was Sokka sure he would . It should be something he asked for permission. It wasn’t a toy but something inherently precious. 

Yet his mother’s betrothal necklace lay there, pristine and as beautiful as the day she last wore it. 

His finger followed the smooth circles in the stone. She had wrinkles when she smiled, he thinks, the memory hazy from age. 

He pulled his finger back from the necklace as if it had threatened to bite him. Their mother didn’t get the chance to form wrinkles.

The mirror caught his eye, reminding him they shared the same cheekbones—even the same nose. And while he couldn’t recall the way she wore her hair, or if her birthmark covered her finger or her palm, it counted for something.

Sokka looked back through the door where Katara slept. He got something from Dad, it only made sense that she should inherit something from Mom, his necklace always made him feel more confident, safe even. He set the necklace back in its proper place. He watched as the kudlik flickered, before gently extinguishing the flame. 

☼

A group of strange inventors lived in the Northern Airbender temple. After getting pelted with stink bombs, the banished prince made his way south to the only other Airbender temple they could access. (The eastern temple got ruled out because of its position behind enemy lines. The risk of being a political prisoner did not make him rush to see dusty old bones, paintings of clouds, and Agni forbid—bison.) 

Being banished was a gray area to live in. A negative eleven out of ten experience. Returning home without the Avatar, meant he’d suffer a punishment worse than a scar to remember the occasion. He’d probably get sent to the Boiling Rock for Agni’s sake and that was the preferable outcome.

Zuko grew tired of the sea, tired of the temples, and tired of being told he was breathing wrong. How can you breathe wrong? They had spent the last three years going over basic forms. Iroh said his katas still needed work—that they'd work on advanced techniques any day now. It was embarrassing to fall so far behind. Especially when he thought about what others were expecting from him. He was weak and pathetic but he wanted to be more.

The Air temple loomed over them as they sailed the massive river at the foot of the cliffs. Zuko hopped over the side onto the stone path before the ship made its stop and began his incline to the top. 

He tried to picture it as it was a century ago, with bison and monks bending and meditating. When he entered the main entry, a column shifted and thick dust flitted down like snow. The bedrooms had trees sprouting out from windows. He even had to fire-bend to pass certain doors due to the way thick webbing had entrapped them.

With the way nature had reclaimed the hilly towers, it was difficult to envision the place as anything but empty. He stomped over strange vines and cracked mosaics alike. As Zuko wandered the halls and empty rooms, he could see it; the life that lived here before the battle. The meditation rooms still had their mats, albeit worn and frayed. Books were piled in a bedroom, the page still open on whatever the inhabitant was last reading.

It wasn’t creepy because no one lives here. It was creepy because someone did.

Spider bats had chased him out of the bison stables. They had taken a liking to the high rafters and the burnt wood surrounding the little building. Zuko was surprised with the amount of damage incurred, that the building was standing at all. It made sense, the fire nation turned the tide by blocking off escape routes. A common strategy…in invasion. He itched his palm. It was better that he didn’t go in after all.

He approached the last building, if he had to guess it was the stable where the bison were held, or perhaps the children’s quarters since it was smaller than the rest. A flock of yellow birds chirped and fluttered away as he took a step closer. A hand wrapped around his right shoulder and Zuko turned back to greet his Uncle.

His uncle’s hand dug into his shoulder. It didn't hurt, but the act was unusual for him--as if he was keeping Zuko from something. "Uncle, whatever it is, I can handle it." He turned to look again when Iroh took his palm in his hand.

Iroh brought his other arm to reveal a withered scroll sealed with the Air Nation insignia. "There's no need to head inside. I found this in the teacher's quarters."

He practically ripped it out of his hands and buried his head into the paper, favoring his right side. The monk Gyatso was reassuring the avatar about leaving the air nation. He never got the chance to send the letter.

“The avatar left before the attack. He could have escaped!” Realizing he was smiling, he quickly reverted to his usual scowl. Zuko read it three times over, letting the words sink into his head. This was great news. It meant the circle wasn’t broken. He could be redeemed. He closed the scroll and looked up to Iroh.

“There hasn’t been talk from other nations of a new avatar. He could be a hundred and twelve years old by now. A bending master with a century for practicing taking on the fire nation.” His eyes fell to the ground. How could he take on the master of all elements when he couldn't even master fire? The large stone columns cast large shadows over them; anyone else might have shivered at the way the crisp wind blew circles in the courtyard.

Iroh took the letter from Zuko’s hand and it disappeared under his robes once again. 

Zuko paced around the clearing, wondering where he had seen that symbol before. The painted murals in the western air temple. The mountainside of the north temple. The etchings from the doorway he just left.

His soulmate had drawn the same swirls on his knee.  

He stopped moving but his stomach continued spinning. “Uncle, I think The avatar might be at the southern pole.” 

His uncle raised a brow. “What makes you think so?”

He looked away. It was crazy, the idea of a random water nation peasant harboring the avatar, but they must have seen something. “Call it, a hunch. Let’s go.”

Iroh reached out once again. “What do you plan to do, Zuko? If the avatar is still alive, what can you hope to do? He could kill you. You need a plan.”

Zuko threw the arm off. “You wouldn’t understand. I have to try. I will capture the avatar!” He stomped off to the ship. 

“We’re moving on, we have a lead.” 

The men stopped, staring at the prince in shock. Jee spoke up first, “Where to, your Highness?”

“The South Pole.” 

“We could go home!” Someone cheered. The newest recruit to their mission maybe. Someone else groaned, they knew what it was like the past three years. 

He couldn’t blame them (but if he knew who it was he would have said something. There were still rules to being a fire nation vessel). Zuko had chased every sight, every rumor, every whisper. He didn’t even realize he stopped moving until he noticed how silent it grew. He turned to the crew. “We will.”

They boarded the boat with new vigor. The Wani, while a relic from the first battle of the war, welcomed them home with a sputter as the deck started vibrating and the engine started up. 

Zuko’s eyes cast on the vast continent of the South Pole. It all made sense now. If the avatar plotted with the North Pole, they would have launched an attack by now. Zuko set both his palms on the ship side, watching the horizon. Things were going to change. Every day he took another step closer to finding the avatar, one step closer to coming home. 

He just needed to ask his soulmate a few questions. Get their trust and find out where they saw the markings. It would be easy, they were soulmates, right? Surely they would understand. 

The avatar was closer to his fingertips. His honor could be restored. He should be happy. The nagging feeling in his stomach didn't leave. 

As the sun's last light slipped from behind the clouds, Zuko retreated to the waiting deck. He said hello to Wushi, the parrot monkey, and looked around for any stragglers. It seemed like everyone busied themselves with dinner and setting up for music night.

He sneered at the thought of hearing tsungi horn lullabies. Though from the way water battered the ship, no one was getting a good sleep tonight.

He crossed his legs over the table, with one pant leg hiked over his knee, looking very un-princelike. Zuko rolled his head across his shoulders back and forth before coming up with a question that didn't sound like an accusation.

‘What’s it like at the southern pole?’

He didn’t expect an answer for a while. His soulmate never seemed to message during the day-- as unpunctual as one could be. The ship creaked as it went over a harsh wave.

Iroh came in at that moment, causing Zuko to quickly rearrange himself. “Hello, Nephew. Neza and I will be playing Pai Sho soon. Come watch us and learn the ways of strategy. It would be helpful in your pursuit.”

“I don’t see how playing a stupid game is going to help me capture the avatar.”

“In the journey of life, it is the wise who embrace every opportunity to learn.” Iroh then started setting up his teapot at the table. “You must sharpen your mind as much as your body.”

His uncle set a cup of tea in front of him and Zuko stared at the red and black dragons before drinking. The tea set and his dao swords were the only reminders of the palace on the ship. His father wanted nothing to do with them; they came from his mother after all. 

While they were supposed to stay a decoration, Zuko often found himself practicing with them late into the hours of the night. It made him feel like she was still there, rooting for him on the sidelines. He wondered if she would have thought he lost his honor too.

“I’m busy.”

“Writing to your soulmate?” Iroh pointed to the knee and did not hide the smug smile this time.

“They have information. They’ve seen the Air Nation insignia. That’s the only reason why we are speaking.” 

“I’d imagine if the letter we have is correct, then we should find him without any need for outside help,” Iroh said before sipping his tea.

“You don’t know that. We could spend another three years here. I don't want to end up like my grandfather, spending the rest of my days hunting a ghost.”

“Did your mother ever teach you about soulbonds Zuko?” 

Zuko pushed the cup away, he had enough of tea. “I don’t see how that’s related.”

“You know they weren’t soulmates.” Iroh sipped his cup.

“Of course, I know that!” Zuko used his hands on the table to push himself up. Everyone knew the Firelord was not permitted to marry a soulmate. 

Spirits be damned, the fire lord had to be a head above the rest, dedicated to the nation--to the whole not the one. It had been that way ever since Firelord Sozin’s time, he argued that having a soulmate only led to distractions.

Iroh waved at Zuko and he let out a sigh before sitting down. “Yes, I know.”

“And do you know why?”

Zuko set his head on his arms. 

“Yes.”

Iroh nodded. “Would you like for me to keep this a secret then? What you say in confidence to me will never leave this room or any room we speak in for that matter.”

“Do you have a soulmate, Uncle?” 

“I was not as lucky as your father. As the firstborn, I had to sever my connection.” He set the tea down.

Since his banishment, Zuko researched anything remotely connected to the avatar, including soulbonds across cultures. But he had not heard of anything besides death severing the connection. 

“Yes.”

Iroh stood up and collected his set. “Very well then, I will guard your secret as if it were my own.” He winked and left the room. 

His knee itched and his head whipped down, narrowly missing the table.

‘Cold. Why? Planning a visit?’

Zuko scoffed, while he planned on going down it was in no way related to finding his soulmate. His soulmate didn’t even want that. ‘No.’

‘What’s it like where you live?’

He sharply inhaled. They wouldn’t be as cooperative if they found out they were a part of the Fire Nation. Another reminder. The universe made a mistake. His mother had to have been wrong. He drew the little swirls on his knee the way his soulmate had before while he thought about how to answer. ‘I don’t live anywhere.’

‘What are you homeless?’

‘No.’

Zuko could still see the mountains from the porthole. They must have just left the islands surrounding the southern air temple. It meant a rough night on the Kimura Ocean. 

‘You seem like a bad liar. If you don’t live anywhere, how are you not?’ 

‘I just travel a lot. Right now, it’s raining. Do you recognize these?’ He drew a little arrow to the doodles. 

‘Like a nomad or a refugee?’

Zuko groaned, this wasn’t getting anywhere and his soulmate knew nothing! ‘‘I live in a fire nation colony. So you could imagine what that’s like.’ He rested his head on his arms and stared at the light crackling in the clouds. Iroh’s words swirled in his head. He couldn't imagine having to kill his soulmate, or his father doing it for him; even if he would..

His mother, his uncle, even his father; all had lost something to their grandfather’s law. While still on the fence of having communication with his soulmate, at the very least, he would try not to lie anymore.

‘I can’t give you my name. Or where I live. And I can’t say that we’ll talk regularly either..but that could change.’

One day when he was Firelord, he could change that law, and spare someone else’s mother the heartache. 

His soulmate didn’t message back that day or the next, and by the next week, it didn’t matter. 

Blue light erupted from the sky.

They had found him.