Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Letter 1: From Sokka to Zuko

Hey Fire Lord Hothead,

Bet you didn’t expect to get a letter from me, huh? I know you’re probably buried under enough scrolls and council meetings to build a whole new palace, so I figured I’d add to the pile. I don’t know if you’ll even get this, but the sea’s got me thinking too much, and, well… you’re the only person I’d actually want to tell any of this to.

So, here I am. Out on the ocean. Again. I know what you’re thinking—didn’t he get enough of the ocean during the war?Apparently not, because I’m back at it. Sailing from one broken village to the next, putting out little fires (don’t worry, not your kind of fire) and trying to help folks rebuild. Turns out, when your job is to “help rebuild a nation,” nobody reallytells you what that actually looks like. Right now, it looks a lot like sleeping on a very damp, very creaky boat, which is about as fun as it sounds.

I thought being out here would feel… different, you know? I thought it’d feel like freedom, or at least like I was doing something real, something important. But honestly? Mostly it feels like I’m just floating in circles, trying to make a difference and not really sure if I am. Every town I pass through, there’s something to fix, someone who needs help, but it’s like I’m one guy with a boomerang trying to fight a hundred different battles. It’s… tiring, Zuko. And kind of lonely, too. Guess I wasn’t built for the “solo warrior on a mission” routine. Who knew?

Anyway, I’d tell you more about the crew, but it’s mostly just me and a bunch of grumpy sailors who don’t laugh at my jokes. It’s been weeks since I heard a good laugh, and trust me, when the only company you have is a couple of stubborn sea hawks who stare at you like you stole their fish, it gets old fast. I miss having someone around who actually gets my weird jokes… and someone who tolerates them. Someone like, I don’t know, you.

Yeah, okay, I can already see you smirking and saying, “Sokka, you’re so dramatic.” And maybe I am. But I kind of liked having someone around who could call me out on it. Someone who could take me seriously even when I was being ridiculous. And now that I’m actually out here, surrounded by endless water and not much else… I’m starting to realize how much I miss that.

I don’t really know why I’m writing this, except… well, I guess I just wanted you to know. To know that I’m still out here, trying to make things better, still thinking about all the stuff we talked about that night by the campfire when we didn’t know if we’d even have a future to look forward to. And, I don’t know… just know that, wherever you are, I’m thinking about you. About that quiet, brooding face of yours and that tiny, rare smile you’d give when you thought no one was looking.

So, here’s hoping you’re okay. Hope the throne hasn’t swallowed you whole yet. And if it has, well, I’ll just have to come drag you out of there myself.

Write me back sometime, if you’re allowed to do that sort of thing now. Or just… I don’t know, send a hawk. I’ll know it’s from you.

Take care of yourself, Zuko. I’ll be seeing your broody face sooner or later, whether you’re ready or not.

—Sokka

The letter ends with a smudge, as though he pressed down too hard, a small, frustrated dent in the paper where he left his final thoughts. It’s a mix of humor and vulnerability, Sokka’s way of reaching across the miles of ocean and firelight to say: I’m here, and I miss you.

Zuko rubbed his temples, barely able to focus on the endless scrolls and letters sprawled across his desk. It had been one of those days that stretched on forever, where every problem seemed heavier than the last. Each letter, each plea, each carefully phrased demand seemed to pull him under a little deeper, like he was drowning in all the expectations he could never quite meet. He tried not to think about it too hard, tried to remind himself why he had taken the throne, but some days the weight was too much to hold.

It was almost midnight, the palace corridors silent and dark, when his hand brushed across a small, rough-edged envelope tucked among the neat, formal scrolls. The handwriting was immediately familiar, uneven and scrawled like it had been written hastily, maybe even without much thought. Zuko’s breath caught. Sokka.

He glanced around the empty room, as though someone might appear and tell him this was a mistake. But it was real—Sokka’s letter, nestled here among all the proclamations and demands for his attention. His fingers hesitated over the seal before carefully breaking it, pulling the single page free. He began to read, and despite his exhaustion, he felt a faint, undeniable smile tugging at his mouth.

“Hey, Fire Lord Hothead…”

Zuko could practically hear Sokka’s voice, that teasing lilt, the hint of laughter even in writing. He imagined Sokka sitting somewhere on a rickety old boat in the middle of the sea, scratching this letter out with his usual careless ease, probably not even thinking of how much these words would mean to him. For the first time all day, Zuko felt his shoulders loosen. He let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The letter was exactly what he’d needed and exactly what he hadn’t known he needed—a small glimpse into a world outside this palace, outside the weight of his responsibilities. As he read, Zuko felt something unexpected build in his chest: a quiet ache, a reminder of all the things he missed. Sokka’s jokes, his wild optimism, his maddening way of pulling Zuko into laughter when he least wanted it. The way he never let Zuko take himself too seriously, the way he looked at him like he was just… a person, a friend, and not a ruler of anything.

“I thought it’d feel like freedom… but mostly it feels like I’m just floating in circles, trying to make a difference and not really sure if I am.”

Zuko’s chest tightened. He knew that feeling too well, the weight of trying to change a world that didn’t always want to be changed. Sokka’s honesty stirred something in him, a reminder that he wasn’t the only one struggling with this. And Sokka had always been like that—unafraid to say what everyone else avoided, to admit his own fears even as he fought through them. For all his bravado, Sokka was real in a way few others were, and Zuko found himself clutching the letter a little tighter.

“It’s been weeks since I heard a good laugh…”

Zuko shook his head, a small, reluctant laugh escaping his lips. He could almost see Sokka there, rolling his eyes at his own misfortune, complaining but never giving up. Zuko had always admired that in him—his persistence, his stubborn insistence that he’d figure it out somehow. And as he read Sokka’s words, Zuko could feel himself drifting into memories: late nights by the campfire, quiet moments shared when everyone else had gone to bed. The warmth of Sokka’s laughter and the ease of his company.

“…I miss having someone around who actually gets my weird jokes… someone like, I don’t know, you.”

Zuko’s fingers paused over the page, and he swallowed hard, his throat thick with emotion. Sokka missed him. He missed him. Zuko didn’t know what he’d expected, but he hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t let himself imagine it—that anyone, especially Sokka, could feel that kind of loneliness over him. His life had been so full of loss and isolation, it was difficult to believe that anyone would truly want his company, let alone miss it. But Sokka’s words—casual, light, with that undeniable hint of sincerity—pierced him more deeply than he’d expected.

Zuko closed his eyes, clutching the letter in his hands, feeling a pull that was both painful and strangely comforting. For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to leave it all behind, just for a while, to find Sokka somewhere out on the sea. To laugh with him again, to breathe a little easier in his presence, to feel a part of himself he’d almost forgotten.

But no, that was impossible. He was the Fire Lord. There was no escaping that. He could practically feel the weight of his title pressing down on him again, a reminder that he couldn’t just run away. But Sokka’s letter lingered in his hands, refusing to let him go. He read the last lines once more, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

“I’ll be seeing your broody face sooner or later, whether you’re ready or not.”

Zuko exhaled slowly, pressing the letter to his chest, feeling a surge of longing and warmth he hadn’t felt in so long. Maybe he couldn’t go to Sokka now. Maybe he couldn’t break free of these walls and his duties. But Sokka’s words had reached him, and he let himself hold on to them, just for tonight. Sokka was out there, thinking of him, wanting to see him.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Zuko allowed himself to believe he wasn’t alone.

Zuko stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of him, the quill poised in his hand, hovering. The ink droplet at the tip threatened to fall, smudging the pristine white—just like his thoughts, which scattered the moment he tried to put anything down.

“Alright… just start with something simple. Like… ‘Hey, Sokka.’”

He wrote it down carefully, feeling almost ridiculous. Immediately, he grimaced. It felt so flat, so distant. This was Sokka. His friend. The person who’d risked his life, fought beside him, even cracked jokes to make him smile when no one else could. But hey, Sokka? That didn’t feel like enough.

He stared harder at the page, feeling his chest tighten.

“Maybe… ‘I miss you too’?” Zuko whispered to himself, testing out the words. His heart beat faster just thinking it, andyet as soon as he tried to imagine writing it, he felt a pang of panic. The Fire Lord, telling someone he missed them? What if someone saw this letter? What if they thought he was weak? He could almost hear his advisors murmuring, imagine the headlines in the next morning’s paper: Fire Lord Pours Out Heart in Scandalous Love Letter.

He groaned, clenching the quill a little tighter. How could Sokka make it look so easy? Just say whatever was on his mind, no filter, no second-guessing. Zuko, though… Zuko was trapped. Trapped by his own mind, by the words he wanted to say but couldn’t.

“Come on, Zuko,” he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper in the empty room. “Just tell him something. Tell him you… you…”

Thud thud THUD.

A harsh, impatient knock slammed against the door, startling him so badly he jerked, smearing a dark streak of ink across the page. He winced, setting the quill down and rubbing his temples.

“Fire Lord Zuko!” a voice called from the other side, the edge of urgency unmistakable. “Your advisors are waiting. There’s an urgent matter that requires your attention.”

Zuko closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. The calm, the tentative vulnerability he’d felt just moments before evaporated, replaced by the familiar crush of expectation. He stopped for a moment and realised it was already morning. 

“Of course,” he said, forcing his voice to sound steady. “Just… give me a moment.”

He heard the impatient shuffling outside but forced himself to take one deep breath before he stood up. His gaze lingered on the half-written, ruined letter. The ink blotches, the single pathetic line—Hey, Sokka. Somehow, even the sight of it felt like a reminder of everything he couldn’t say, all the words trapped behind walls he didn’t know how to tear down.

He dragged himself away from the desk, straightening his robes and pulling himself into the cold, composed face he wore for everyone else. But just as he reached the door, his eyes flicked back to the letter, a tiny crack forming in his carefully held mask.

I wanted to say something back, he thought, the words a whisper inside him. I wanted him to know…

Another impatient knock shook him from his thoughts. “Fire Lord Zuko?” the voice pressed again.

He closed his eyes, steadying himself before pulling the door open. “Yes, I’m coming,” he said, the warmth in his voice replaced by a rigid, distant tone.

The advisor waiting outside gave him a quick, shallow bow. “It’s the matter of the Earth Kingdom reparations, my lord. They’re requesting further amendments to the proposed terms—”

Zuko nodded, already feeling the familiar exhaustion tugging at him as he began to follow down the hallway. The endless cycle of diplomacy, of patching wounds that never seemed to close, of speaking without saying what he truly wanted. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, Sokka’s letter lingered, that thread of warmth and humor tugging at him, just out of reach.

His hand clenched at his side as he walked, an ache settling in his chest. He could still picture Sokka out there on the sea, laughing to himself as he wrote the letter, probably picturing Zuko’s reaction. I’ll be seeing you sooner or later, whether you’re ready or not, Sokka had written. The words played in his mind, over and over, a reminder of all he wanted but couldn’t reach.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the sense that, without meaning to, he’d let Sokka down. That simple truth settled heavy in his heart, filling every empty corner even as he pushed himself into the role of Fire Lord, his words for Sokka left unspoken and unsent.

Chapter Text

Hey Firelord Hothead,

So… I gotta admit, I was hoping maybe I’d have something from you by now. But it’s okay. I get it. Big important guy, lots of big important stuff. I can practically hear you rolling your eyes at me right now and muttering something about duty and “national priorities.” (Pretty sure I nailed your tone there.) Anyway, I’ll keep filling up your desk with these since you’re probably drowning in scrolls of dull royal complaints. Consider me the one part of your mail that isn’t a disaster report.

Right now, I’m writing to you from my luxurious “cabinet” on the ship, which is really just a closet with a cot crammed in. It’s got a single candle flickering on this rickety little desk, which keeps tipping whenever the ship hits a wave. The wood creaks so much, I keep expecting it to fall apart mid-sentence. Nothing like those fancy palace halls you call home, but hey—at least I get a view of the ocean, and it’s just me here, in the quiet.

Today, I’m writing to you from the fine shores of Taikun’s Reach. Ever heard of it? It’s this tiny island way out here in the middle of nowhere, where everything smells like fish and the locals are… uh, “lively.” They challenged me to some weird kind of dance-battle ceremony last night, something about proving my worth to the “spirit of the sea” or something. I honestly don’t know—there was a lot of chanting and possibly some fermented seaweed involved. (You would’ve laughed your royal butt off, I promise.)

Anyway, after sufficiently embarrassing myself by tripping over at least three ceremonial shells, I managed to charm them enough to help rebuild a few docks that got wrecked last year. Turns out even in the middle of nowhere, people still need something to hold onto. But when the work’s done and the fires go out, it’s… well, it’s just me again, sitting on the shore, watching the ocean.

You know, sometimes I wonder what you’d think of all this. Just this big open sea, this feeling of drifting but always finding my way somehow. I know you’re out there too, dealing with your own storms. Maybe one day you can come out here, get lost for a while, let your hair down. (Which, by the way, is a crime against your old topknot, but I guess I’ll live.)

Anyway. Write back, or don’t. Just know I’m out here thinking of you, and wondering if maybe you think of me, too.

To the Firelord, from the sea.

—Sokka

Zuko sat at his desk, the paperwork before him feeling like an insurmountable mountain. Every letter, every form, every request—it all bled together in a never-ending tide of obligations. His mind raced from one thing to the next: reparations, trade agreements, military rotations, rebuilding efforts. He had no time to breathe, let alone think.

His uncle’s visit earlier in the day had been a brief but necessary reprieve. Iroh had smiled, made a few jokes about the stresses of leadership, and shared some tea. For a moment, Zuko had felt like he was simply a nephew, not the Fire Lord. That connection—so rare these days—had lightened something in his chest, but it didn’t last long. The moment Iroh left, the weight of the crown settled back in, and Zuko was alone again with his thoughts.

Sighing, he turned his attention to the pile of letters that awaited him. Most were dull, requests for meetings, complaints, updates on new laws and regulations. He picked one up, his fingers running along the familiar edges. It was from Sokka.

A second letter from Sokka.

Zuko froze, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn’t expected this. The first letter had only just been sent. The thought that Sokka might be sitting on the other side of the world, writing these letters with the same mixture of hope and uncertainty, made his chest ache. He picked it up, the familiar handwriting—“To the Firelord, from the sea…”—catching his eye, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away.

His fingers trembled slightly as he tore open the seal, his heart pounding in his ears. He read it quickly, his chest tightening with every word, feeling the loneliness in Sokka’s voice, the same loneliness he had been trying to hide. He wanted to reach through the paper, to reach across the sea and somehow pull Sokka out of this isolation. He wanted to tell him that he wasn’t alone. He wanted to tell him that he understood.

The letter was full of Sokka’s usual humor, his sarcasm, his little adventures—this time from a place called Taikun’s Reach, a tiny island where the locals had made Sokka perform some kind of embarrassing dance ritual. Zuko couldn’t help but smile at the image of Sokka, awkward and funny, and yet so brave in the face of it all. But the more he read, the more he felt the space between them—the silence, the absence, the ache that neither of them had the courage to speak about.

Zuko set the letter down carefully, his heart in his throat. He wanted so badly to respond, to share his own day with Sokka, to admit how much he missed him, how much he longed to be with him. He needed to let Sokka know that he wasn’t alone in this, that even though they were far apart, their hearts were still connected in ways that words couldn’t explain.

But how?

He stared at the blank page in front of him again, the quill now heavy in his hand. He wanted to tell Sokka about his ownday, to say something real, something that didn’t feel like it was being suffocated by the weight of his title. He wanted to tell him about the frustrations of the throne, about the endless scrolls and meetings, about how his uncle had been the only one who made him feel like Zuko again, not just Fire Lord. He wanted to talk about how, even though he was surrounded by people, he felt more alone than ever.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he found himself staring at the letter, his hand shaking slightly as he tried to write.

I read your letter, he started, but quickly scratched it out. It felt empty, meaningless. He wanted to say more—wanted tofeel more, but he just couldn’t find the courage to get it right.

His frustration rose again, and he let out a soft sigh. How could he share all of this? How could he make it make sense?

After a long pause, he finally wrote something, the first real thing that felt right:

I miss you too.

It was simple, but somehow, it felt like everything he needed to say. The words were small, but they held so much.

He stared at it for a moment, unsure if it was enough. He folded the letter carefully, but even as he did, it gnawed at him. There was so much more he wanted to say, so much more he needed to say. But for now, this was all he could manage.

He set the quill down, his hand still shaking. Maybe one day, he’d get it right. Maybe one day, the words wouldn’t be so hard to find.

But for now, all he could do was write.

And wait.

Zuko let out a heavy sigh, his frustration swirling around him like a storm that wouldn’t subside. The letter he had written—if he could even call it that—felt like a half-hearted attempt, like a threadbare confession too small for what he truly wanted to say. I miss you too. That was all he could manage. That was all the courage he had, despite the depth of everything he felt.

He stood up abruptly, pacing for a moment before turning toward the balcony. The heavy weight of the Fire Lord’s responsibilities seemed to press down on him once more, but it was nothing compared to the quiet ache in his chest—the one that had been there ever since the distance between him and Sokka had become more than just miles. It was more than that. It was the weight of unspoken words, of things left unsaid because he didn’t know how to say them.

But Sokka was there. At least, in his letters, Sokka was there. And for a moment, that was enough. The idea that Sokka could feel this too—that they could both be tangled in this unsaid, unspoken longing—brought a small flicker of warmth to Zuko’s chest.

He crossed the room to the small table by the window and grabbed the letter from Sokka, holding it in his hands like it was some kind of treasure. He had already read it twice, but he wasn’t ready to let go of it. Not yet. He needed to feel it again, to remind himself that even though Sokka was far away, he was still there.

Taikun’s Reach, the island where Sokka had danced like a fool for the locals. Zuko almost laughed, picturing Sokka’s awkwardness and then immediately shaking his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He missed that so much. That ease, that confidence Sokka had in being himself, no matter what.

Zuko’s eyes drifted over the letter again, reading the words one more time, then he folded it carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his tunic. He walked to the balcony, his mind still racing, still tangled in all the emotions he couldn’t seem to unravel. The cool night air greeted him as he stepped outside, the vastness of the night sky stretched out before him. The moon hung high, its soft light casting long shadows across the palace gardens below. The horizon seemed to stretch forever, as if it were a promise of something more, something beyond the present.

He pulled his arm back and tied the letter to the hawk’s leg, watching the bird take off with a practiced grace. Zuko stood there for a moment, his gaze following the hawk as it disappeared into the dark sky. And yet, despite the motion, despitethe letter being sent, Zuko still felt heavy, still felt as though something was missing.

He turned back inside, his eyes falling on the letter from Sokka once more. He walked slowly to the balcony’s edge and looked out over the moonlit landscape, a sense of both peace and sadness settling over him.

His heart ached for Sokka’s presence, the laughter that had once filled the air, the quiet moments where they could just be. And yet… there was a strange comfort in knowing that Sokka was out there, still thinking of him. Still reaching for him, even from across the vast seas.

Zuko leaned against the stone railing, his eyes closing as he took in a breath. The frustration, the loneliness—it was still there. But so was something else. A quiet happiness, deep inside. The knowledge that Sokka still cared. That, no matter how far apart they were, their connection was real. That maybe—just maybe—they didn’t have to be physically together for that bond to remain.

He stared at the horizon, feeling the wind against his skin, a mixture of emotions warring within him. He was lonely, yes. But not alone. Not anymore. Because somewhere out there, Sokka was looking at the same sky, feeling the same distance, and still holding on.

Zuko let out a soft breath, feeling a tear he hadn’t expected slide down his cheek. He didn’t wipe it away. He let it fall,because in that moment, it was okay to feel everything—the frustration, the longing, the sadness, and the faint flicker of hope.

“Soon,” he whispered to no one in particular, though he wasn’t sure if it was meant for himself or for Sokka, wherever he was. But for the first time in a long while, he felt something stir inside him. Something more than the weight of duty. Something that made him look out at the moonlit sky, the vast horizon ahead, and feel like maybe—just maybe—there was more waiting for him, too.

Chapter Text

To the Firelord, from the sea…

Hey, Zuko.

I’m not gonna lie, when I saw the letter from you, I thought maybe I had somehow convinced the spirits to throw me a bone. Or maybe I hit my head harder than I thought and this is some fever dream. But no, it was really from you, the Firelord himself. And, honestly, I was a little disappointed. I miss you too? I miss you too? Dude, really? Is that what we’re doing now? You’ve got an entire palace at your disposal, and that’s the best you can do?

But, okay, okay, I get it. I do get it. You’re busy, Firelord stuff, all that royal nonsense. And look, I’m just happy I got anything, alright? So, thank you. I miss you too, huh? I guess that’s the Firelord way of admitting he’s not too busy to be nostalgic. You didn’t even throw in some flowery stuff, like “The moon’s reflection on the Fire Temple reminded me of your eyes,” or “The way the sun sets in the west reminds me of how you always left me speechless with your, um… bravery.” But hey, I’ll take it. I’ll take the bare minimum if it means I get a little piece of you on paper.

On a completely unrelated note, I think I may have come up with a new game to pass the time while I’m not dying of boredom out here. I’m calling it “Guess How Many Islands I’ve Been On and How Many Times I’ve Nearly Drowned.” Spoiler alert: The answer is a lot.

I’ve been to this one island, Taruwa’s Keep, and I swear the whole place smells like wet stone and… regret. The locals were super friendly—that is, until they made me join their annual “Taruwa Dance-off” (yes, you read that right, again dancing) where I was expected to perform some kind of ceremonial dance to ward off evil spirits… or something. No, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. But hey, I didn’t drown, so we’re counting that as a win. And just in case you’re wondering, I’m now apparently “Honorary Spirit-Wardening Chief” of Taruwa’s Keep. No big deal.

But yeah, the sea’s great—it’s big, it’s blue, it’s… wet. Sometimes, it’s like being surrounded by endless amounts of nothing, which, funnily enough, makes it a perfect match for how I’m feeling these days. But I won’t get into that. Not like I have anyone to complain to… not that I’m complaining… much.

I did think about something the other day, though. Remember when we’d sit on the beach, and I’d try to teach you how to actually have fun instead of brooding all the time? Good times. And no, I’m not saying I miss your brooding specifically, but it was nice. You know, the whole being-in-the-same-place thing. Not that I’m saying I want to hang out again anytime soon or anything. I mean, it’s not like I miss being around you… or anything. Nope. Not at all. Totally fine being out here alone on my… big ship with nothing but waves and seagulls for company. And if you think about it, who wouldn’t prefer that to spending time with the brooding Firelord? Not me, obviously. That’d be crazy, right?

The nights are the worst. That’s when it gets real quiet out here, like everything’s just… waiting for something. I won’t pretend I’m not a little tired of it. But I’m fine—we’re sailors, right? We handle stuff like this all the time. If you’re ever out here, though, bring a tent or a pillow or a boat full of distractions. Trust me, you’ll need it. But don’t take too long. We wouldn’t want you getting soft and needing a vacation from all your Firelord stuff.

Okay, okay, enough with the sarcasm. I’m just trying to keep myself busy and… well, let’s just say it’s hard not to think about stuff, especially when the only thing I’ve got to talk to are seagulls and my own thoughts. You know, you never really realize how much you miss someone until you’re surrounded by so much nothing. And yeah, I guess I miss you more than I thought I would. Not like I’m in love with you or anything, Firelord Zuko. It’s just, you know, normal to miss people, right? Totally. That’s just, uh… what people do. Nothing special about it. But, just in case you’re wondering, I’m not saying I miss you. I’m not. Not at all.

So, uh, yeah. That’s it. Hope things are going less Firelord-y and more Zuko-y over there. I’m not asking for a love letter or anything (although if you feel like it, I wouldn’t be opposed wink wink), just, you know, a note that says you’re still alive over there. It’s hard to tell when you’re buried under all those royal duties.

Take care of yourself, Zuko. I miss you too, I guess. But next time, maybe throw in some real words, yeah?

To the Firelord, from the sea… (where the seas are endless and my sarcasm knows no bounds)

Zuko sat in his office, the letter from Sokka still crinkled in his hands. The faint scent of saltwater lingered on the paper, and for a moment, he closed his eyes and let it fill his senses. He could almost hear the waves crashing against the ship, the distant call of seagulls.

But the more he read the letter, the more Zuko felt something heavier. Something beneath the sarcasm and the jokes Sokka always used to mask his true feelings. Zuko’s eyes traced the words again, noting the subtle cracks in Sokka’s tone—how his attempt to make everything sound okay wasn’t fooling anyone.

The sea’s great, it’s big, it’s blue, it’s… wet. Zuko had to chuckle at the bluntness, but it was also clear that Sokka was trying to convince himself more than anything. He wasn’t just telling Zuko about the sea. He was telling himself it was fine. He was telling himself that he was fine.

But Zuko could feel the loneliness seeping through the words—like an invisible thread woven into the fabric of the letter. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there, and Zuko couldn’t ignore it. The way Sokka talked about the nights being quiet and the long stretches of nothingness, how he seemed to be trying to convince Zuko that he was handling it all. Zuko knew better. Sokka was hiding something. Hiding how much he missed him. Hiding how hard it was to be away from everything, from the people they had fought for, from the world they had built together.

Zuko’s hand tightened around the paper. It wasn’t just the loneliness, though. It was also that subtle undertone of flirting —or was it? Zuko’s mind couldn’t settle on it. The way Sokka would say things like, Not like I’m in love with you or anything, or I’m not saying I miss you. It felt like a game, but not one Zuko was sure how to play. He was confused. But for now, he didn’t want to dig into it too much. Not when there was so much else happening—so much he had to do that didn’t have anything to do with Sokka, at least right now .

Still, he couldn’t help the small tug in his chest when he read the part where Sokka joked about missing him. I miss you more than I thought I would. It was impossible to miss that. It was almost too honest for the usual witty sarcasm Sokka always wielded.

Zuko leaned back in his chair, letting the letter fall to the table in front of him. His eyes drifted to the window, where the city sprawled below him, a blur of light against the night sky. The weight of his responsibilities felt heavier than ever. He had a meeting in a few hours with a group of diplomats from the Earth Kingdom. The nations were trying to find a way to reconcile, to heal after the war, and Zuko was supposed to host a party—or, more accurately, a reception . It wasn’t exactly a party in the way he would have liked. It was more like a diplomatic exercise. Smiles, handshakes, polite conversations. Nothing that felt remotely personal.

Zuko wasn’t a party guy. He didn’t enjoy the superficial gestures of goodwill that most people did. He’d never been good at that. He’d never been good at being the center of attention. And tonight, he was going to be expected to give speeches, shake hands, make nice with people he didn’t even know. He’d rather be with Sokka, cracking jokes over the fire or chasing down some new ridiculous adventure—anything that didn’t involve being stuck behind a desk and pretending like everything was fine.

The weight of the duties pressing down on him felt suffocating. It was always something—always someone asking for something. He wasn’t even sure what the party was supposed to accomplish at this point. The world was still rebuilding, people were still healing, and there were so many pieces to pick up. But no matter how much he tried, no matter how many strategies he laid out, Zuko always ended up feeling like he was barely holding it together.

And now, reading Sokka’s letter again, he felt a knot in his chest, a sense of longing and loss. He didn’t want to be here. Not in this palace, surrounded by demands and formalities. He wanted to be somewhere else—somewhere with Sokka, where there wasn’t any of this pressure. He wanted to feel lighter . He wanted the sound of Sokka’s laugh to fill the air again, the warmth of his presence to make everything feel less… cold. If only Sokka were here right now, Zuko thought, He’d make this whole thing bearable. Sokka would love it—no, scratch that—he’d probably be making fun of it the entire time. But still, Zuko couldn’t help but imagine how much better things would be if Sokka was there to lighten the mood, to turn the stiff formalities into something real, something fun . Sokka always had a way of doing that, of showing up and making things feel less like duty and more like something worth fighting for.

He also couldn’t stop thinking about the way Sokka mentioned the island. Taruwa’s Keep, where the locals made him dance. Zuko snorted quietly at the thought of Sokka dancing . He could picture it now—the dramatic, awkward movements, the completely uncoordinated attempts to do whatever ritual they had, probably followed by Sokka’s sarcastic commentary about how he was now the “Honorary Spirit-Wardening Chief.” Zuko could almost hear him mocking the whole thing.

It was strange to think of Sokka in that position—surrounded by strangers, having to dance like a fool to fit in. Zuko wondered if Sokka was as uncomfortable as he seemed, or if it was just his way of dealing with the situation. Probably both. But he could almost see it—Sokka grinning and making fun of the whole thing while somehow still managing to get everyone to laugh. He missed that. He missed the way Sokka never let anything be too serious, never let the pressure of the world crush him. It was infectious.

But the moment passed quickly, and Zuko’s gaze returned to the horizon. The reception. He had to be Firelord. And for that, he needed to get ready.

He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. The letter still sat there, waiting for him. He knew he would write back. He just… couldn’t focus on it yet. There were too many other things, too many responsibilities he had to juggle, too many people to please.

But as he stared out at the moonlit sky, a thought lingered in the back of his mind: I hope Sokka is okay out there.

Zuko sat at his desk, the quill in his hand hovering just above the parchment. His mind was still buzzing from the long reception that had just ended, the official smiles, the forced pleasantries, the endless shaking of hands. It hadn’t been a party. It hadn’t even felt like a celebration of anything. It was just… duty . And when the night was over, and the last guest had left, Zuko had finally found a moment to sit down. His thoughts had drifted to Sokka and the letters he’d received, the ones that had felt so far away.

He sighed, glancing at the letters piled on his desk. There was one in particular—the last one from Sokka—that had been eating at him. It had been a while since he’d sent a response, and each day that passed made him feel more guilty. More… inadequate. He hadn’t meant for his last letter to sound like a dismissal, like a rushed afterthought. He knew Sokka had probably seen through it. And the last thing Zuko wanted to do was make Sokka feel as if he wasn’t a priority, especially when it felt like he was the only person Zuko could count on.

Zuko took a deep breath and began to write.

To Sokka,

He paused. It felt like the simplest greeting, but in that moment, it felt heavy. The words—simple, clean—didn’t feel like enough. Not for all the things he wanted to say.

I owe you an apology.

There it was. He had to get it out. He couldn’t just keep avoiding it. The words flowed, but there was a hesitation in each stroke, the weight of his thoughts making him second-guess every phrase.

The last letter I sent…

Zuko stopped again. It hadn’t felt right. He hadn’t been in the right headspace when he wrote it, not like he should’ve been. He didn’t want to sound distant. He didn’t want to seem like he didn’t care.

I didn’t mean to brush you off like that. I hope you know that. I never want you to feel like you’re not worth my time.

He winced as he wrote it. He knew Sokka wouldn’t take it that way, but still, the thought that he had made Sokka feel insignificant, even for a moment, stung. Zuko rubbed his face and stared at the words, his mind racing. It wasn’t enough. He had to say more.

I’ve been thinking a lot about you, about everything—what you’ve been doing out there, on the water. And I hope it’s… I hope it’s going well. I hope you’re okay.

It wasn’t much. He still didn’t know what Sokka’s life was like out there, on the seas, away from everything they had fought for, away from him. But Zuko wanted him to know that he thought about it. He thought about him. All the time.

I keep thinking about how much better things would be if you were here with me. Tonight, for example, the reception. It wasn’t a party—it wasn’t even close—but if you were here, it would’ve felt different. You would’ve made it feel real, not just another act of diplomacy. You always know how to make people feel… lighter. You would’ve had everyone laughing. You always do. And I wouldn’t have been so nervous about all of it.

He grinned as he wrote that part, remembering Sokka’s ability to turn every situation into a joke. The way he could make people laugh even when the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Zuko paused, tapping the quill against the paper. He could almost hear Sokka’s sarcastic voice in his head. Yeah, well, it’s a talent, I guess, he could imagine him saying, shrugging as if it were no big deal. But Zuko knew it was more than that. He knew it was something that came from Sokka’s ability to see through the facade, to cut through the formalities, to make the impossible feel possible. It was something that Zuko had always admired.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and it’s not just about what you bring to those moments. It’s… it’s the way you’ve always been there, even when we were fighting, even when we didn’t know if the world was ever going to heal. You’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when I didn’t know what to say, or how to be the person I needed to be.

He bit his lip, staring at the paper. His heart was heavy, but in a different way. Not from the weight of responsibility or obligation, but from the weight of feeling . He wasn’t good at this. He wasn’t good at saying the things he felt. Not like Sokka, who could crack a joke and make everything seem easier. But this? This wasn’t easy.

I just… I hope you’re okay. I hope you know that, no matter what, I’m here. And I wish I could be there with you, like I said. I really do.

Zuko set the quill down for a moment, rubbing his eyes. It was hard to explain how much he missed Sokka, how the days felt longer without him around, how his heart pulled toward him every time he thought about their time together.

He exhaled and began to write again.

Anyway, I’m not sure if any of this makes sense. I’ve been busy, as you can imagine. But I wanted you to know that you’re always in my thoughts. Always. Please—take care of yourself.

He felt his pulse quicken as he wrote those final words. He wasn’t sure how to end it, how to make it sound like he meant it without sounding awkward. He couldn’t just say “Love, Zuko” —he didn’t have the words for that yet. Maybe one day.

With everything,

Zuko

He folded the letter, his thoughts swirling with emotions he wasn’t sure how to manage. He felt the weight of his duties again—the constant pressure of everything he had to do as Firelord—but for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel as suffocating. He felt… relieved. At least he had written to Sokka. At least he had reached out. Even if it wasn’t perfect, even if it didn’t feel like enough, it was something.

And maybe, just maybe, it was a step toward something more.

Chapter Text

To Zuko,

Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to write a real letter. I was starting to wonder if you were too busy being Firelord to remember I exist out here on the sea. Glad to know you’re still thinking about me, though—at least when the reception isn’t keeping you occupied.

I’ll admit, I was surprised to get a letter from you. Honestly, I didn’t expect one after all that time, but… it was nice to hear from you. Really nice. And no, I’m not crying right now. I’m just… allergic to the sea air. Very normal.

Anyway, about that reception… I can totally imagine it. It sounds like your kind of thing. I’m sure the firelords and dignitaries were thrilled, but not as thrilled as they would’ve been if I had been there. You know, cracking jokes, making everyone uncomfortable, turning formal dinners into a stand-up routine. Classic Sokka. I know you missed that.

But honestly, it does sound a little exhausting. I’m not sure how you do it. It must be so… draining, pretending to be all political all the time. But hey, it’s a good thing you’re Firelord now and not just… you know, Zuko. Because if you were just Zuko, we both know how that would’ve gone. You’d probably set something on fire in a fit of frustration, and then we’d all have to find a way to put it out.

On that note, I did get sick, which, as you can imagine, has been an absolute blast. I swear, I’ll never trust an island that offers “special healing herbs” ever again. One second, I’m fine, the next I’ve got a fever and I can’t stop coughing. The locals on the island of Yukio said it was from the people who’d been there before me—sick travelers who didn’t know what they were bringing with them. I swear, you can never trust those “miracle remedies” they try to sell you.

But hey, I’m getting better. Well, mostly. You know me, I’m not the type to lay around and do nothing, even if I’m a little less than 100%.

Right now, I’m docked in some random town I’m not sure the name of. It’s just one of those places you pass through while you’re making your way across the sea. Small, kind of quiet, not much to it. The people here don’t seem to mind that I’m hanging around, though. It’s not like they’ve noticed I’m kind of a big deal or anything. I don’t know, maybe I should’ve gotten a ship named after me already.

I’ll be off again soon. Just waiting for the right winds. Maybe I’ll head back toward the Southern Islands or look for a new place to see. Hard to say. There’s a lot of the world I still haven’t explored.

But the truth is… sometimes, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing anymore. I thought I’d be okay out here, you know? Just sailing, finding new things, keeping myself busy. But the longer I’m on the water, the more I realize it’s not the same. The quiet is… too quiet. And the nights? Well, they seem longer now. I’ve spent a lot of them staring at the horizon. Wondering.

I guess what I’m trying to say is… I wish you were here. Not for the party—though I’m sure you’d love my unique take on “how to make things fun”—but because it’s just… better when you’re around. It’s funny, how everything seems a little less heavy when you’ve got someone to talk to.

It’s like… you know, when we’d be out on the ship after a long day, just sitting next to each other in silence. I never really appreciated those moments until they were gone.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being weird. It’s late, and I’m not sure if I’m making any sense. But I guess I just wanted you to know that I… well, I miss you.

Oh, and I haven’t written to Aang or Katara yet. I probably should, right? But they’re always traveling. They don’t really stay in one place long enough for me to send a letter, anyway. Maybe one day I’ll catch up with them. I guess it doesn’t matter.

Anyway, don’t let all that firelord business get to your head. You’ve still got me out here, making enemies with the fish.

Take care,

Sokka

P.S. If you’re ever not so busy with that whole firelord thing, and you find yourself looking for someone to hang out with who’s not politically important, just say the word. I’ll be on the sea, doing my thing. But… I’d be happy to see you, if you ever got the chance.

Zuko sat alone in his bedchamber, the letter from Sokka held carefully in his hands. He’d been waiting for a quiet moment to read it in peace, away from the pressures of the palace, where he didn’t have to pretend that a simple letter wasn’t the most important thing he’d held all day. The Firelord, reduced to sitting on the edge of his bed, re-reading the lines over and over, feeling each word settle deep in his chest.

The first read-through had left him with a strange, aching feeling he couldn’t shake. Sokka’s sarcasm, his humor—it was all there. But Zuko could see right through it.

“You’re not okay, are you?” he whispered to himself, tracing a finger along Sokka’s words about the “quiet being too quiet” and the nights feeling long. Zuko had known loneliness before—he understood the way it lingered in the background, how it filled empty spaces until you couldn’t ignore it anymore. And the fact that Sokka was out there, feeling that kind of emptiness, all while keeping up his cheerful facade… Zuko could feel his own heart tighten with guilt.

He remembered Sokka’s mention of the party, his joke about making everyone uncomfortable with his bad jokes and quick wit. Zuko could almost see him there, laughing too loud, filling the room with that easy smile. He felt a bittersweet smile pull at his lips.

“It really would have been better if you’d been here,” he murmured. He imagined how much brighter the reception would have felt with Sokka beside him, poking fun at all the “dignitaries and firelords” with his casual irreverence, making Zuko himself feel like he didn’t have to pretend to be something he wasn’t. Zuko could almost hear Sokka’s laughter filling the grand hall, as though just the memory of him brought warmth to the cold, empty room.

As he kept reading, Zuko’s gaze softened, lingering on the words “I wish you were here.” He felt his throat tighten, an unexpected pang that made him catch his breath. The idea that Sokka—this boy who’d seen Zuko at his lowest, who’d fought against him, who’d ultimately forgiven him and fought beside him—was now out there, somewhere on the vast, endless sea, feeling alone…

Zuko swallowed hard, barely breathing as he reread that line. “You miss me,” he whispered, almost to himself, as if he hadn’t been able to believe it the first time. There was something so raw in Sokka’s words, and Zuko found himself feeling that same yearning in return.

He let his eyes drift over the last part of the letter. Sokka hadn’t written to Aang or Katara, he said, but Zuko knew—he knew that it wasn’t just because they were hard to find. He couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe, he was the one Sokka truly wanted to write to. A smile pulled at his lips, soft and quiet, but it faded just as quickly.

“You idiot,” he whispered, almost affectionately. “You could have written to anyone, but you wrote to me…”

Zuko closed his eyes, clutching the letter against his chest for a moment. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this—just the feeling of knowing Sokka was out there, thinking about him, writing to him in his usual, roundabout, joking way. Sokka was a world away, with the sea stretching between them, and yet here he was, closer than anyone.

He let out a long sigh, standing up and walking toward the open window of his room. The moon hung low over the palace gardens, and the night was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that he could almost feel Sokka’s words filling the empty air around him, like a voice he could hear if he just listened hard enough.

“Maybe I can’t bring you back here,” he murmured to himself, “but I swear I’ll find a way to let you know you’re not alone out there, Sokka. Not ever.”

He knew then that he’d have to write back. But it wasn’t just going to be a few simple words this time. No—this letter would be something more, something that could cross the ocean and touch Sokka the way Sokka’s words had just touched him.

Zuko stood by the open window, clutching Sokka’s letter in his hand as the realization crept over him—slowly, quietly, like a wave lapping at the shore, gentle but unrelenting.

He’d known there was something different about the way he felt toward Sokka. He’d known it since that first awkward handshake after the war, since the late nights around the fire on the journey back to the Fire Nation, since he found himself looking for Sokka’s approval with every hard decision he made. And somehow, with every letter, with every joke and every half-hidden vulnerability Sokka offered him, those feelings had only grown.

But he’d never let himself see it clearly—not really. There had always been something too complicated, too risky, about letting his mind go down that path. He was Firelord now, and there were so many people relying on him, watching him. Sokka was part of a world that Zuko was meant to bring closer, not get entangled with in ways he couldn’t explain or control.

But as he read Sokka’s words again— I wish you were here… everything seems a little less heavy when you’ve got someone to talk to —something in Zuko’s chest seemed to loosen, to surrender to the truth he’d been holding back. He realized that he didn’t just want Sokka here because he was a friend. It was something more. It was something deeper and harder to name, and it terrified him.

Zuko let out a shaky breath, the moonlight casting soft shadows over his face. He’d been so overwhelmed at the reception, surrounded by people who were there to watch him, judge him, expect something from him. But the thought of Sokka being there, just Sokka—laughing at all the serious faces, making Zuko feel like he could be himself… it would have made everything feel lighter. And right now, the very idea made him feel lighter, like a weight had lifted just from knowing that Sokka understood him, even from a distance.

“Why is it you?” he whispered, looking out at the quiet night. “Why does it have to be you?”

The answer was simple, though it still felt too big for him to fully accept. It was Sokka. Somehow, it had always been him.

With Sokka, he didn’t have to be Firelord. He didn’t have to be anything other than himself—awkward, stubborn, and sometimes unsure. He could laugh, he could stumble, he could speak without thinking too hard. And even though he’d never dared to admit it to himself, he realized now how deeply he wanted that feeling to last.

Zuko swallowed, his throat tight as he gazed at the letter, tracing the words with a thumb. All the times he’d brushed these feelings aside, all the moments he’d buried them under his duty… they were suddenly clear, bright, impossible to deny. Sokka wasn’t just a friend. He was someone Zuko missed in a way that left him feeling hollow, someone he yearned to see smiling by his side.

As the realization settled in, Zuko felt an ache he couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just a casual, passing longing—it was deep, personal, something he’d guarded even from himself.

He closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the night surround him. And for the first time, he let himself feel it—really feel it. That it wasn’t just Sokka’s letters he wanted; it was Sokka himself. The man who made him laugh, who challenged him, who understood him in ways no one else did.

A smile tugged at his lips, sad and a little wistful, as he let the truth settle in his heart. He wanted Sokka to be here—not because he was lonely, not because it was nice to have a friend, but because Sokka was the one person he couldn’t imagine his life without.

And maybe, he thought, just maybe, that meant something that he couldn’t turn away from any longer.

Zuko sat at his desk, dipping his quill into the ink pot, then staring at the blank page in front of him. His heart pounded harder than he’d ever admit to anyone, especially himself, as he tried to begin this letter. He took a breath, bringing the tip of the quill to the paper—then froze, unsure where to start.

Dear Sokka,

he wrote, but the words looked too formal, too cold. Frowning, he scratched them out. He tried again, this time with something simpler:

Sokka,

Still not right. Zuko sighed, his head falling into his hands. Why was this so difficult? He’d written hundreds of letters as Firelord, addressed all kinds of officials, and even soothed a few international conflicts through diplomacy alone. But this—just putting down a few honest words for Sokka—felt like trying to fight with his bare hands against a tidal wave.

“Okay,” he murmured to himself, taking another breath, “just… write.”

He dipped the quill again and finally started.

Sokka,

Thanks for writing back. I, um… I didn’t really expect to hear from you so soon. I guess I should’ve known better—you’ve always been full of surprises.

I’m glad you’re doing alright. Or… at least as alright as you can be, I guess, given… everything. Your stories about being on these islands make me wish I could be there, too. And… well, I’m sorry to hear you got sick on Yukio Island (did you at least find any decent food there? Or was it as bad as you always say our Fire Nation rations are?).

Honestly, I didn’t expect to feel so… strange hearing about you being so far away. It’s weird not knowing where you are, and I find myself wondering what you’re doing more often than I thought I would.

The reception we had here wasn’t nearly as exciting as the adventures you’re off having. I tried to make it through without looking as awkward as I felt, but… I guess it was just a lot. I kept thinking you’d be good at something like that. You’d probably have the whole room laughing within a minute, make everyone feel more… I don’t know. Real, maybe. I really could’ve used that. You’d have hated all the formalities, but you’d have loved making fun of everyone, including me.

Zuko paused, rereading the last few lines. His heart was racing again, and he could feel his face warming at how honest he’d been. But this was Sokka, he reminded himself. He could be real with Sokka.

He kept writing, hoping the words would come naturally.

It’s strange, really. I spend so much time surrounded by people here—officials, advisors, visitors from all over the world—and yet… sometimes, it feels lonelier than it did when I was on my own. I keep thinking about the nights we spent around the campfire, with you telling stories and making even Aang laugh so hard he’d nearly pass out. I miss that. I miss… well, I miss having you here, if I’m being honest.

And I know that sounds… I don’t know, maybe it sounds like I’m just grateful for the company or something, but it’s more than that. I keep thinking how different everything would feel if you were here. Somehow, you make things easier—like I can just be myself, without worrying about whether I’m saying the right thing or doing everything perfectly.

Zuko stopped again, running a hand over his face. He was saying more than he’d planned to, but he couldn’t stop now. It felt like finally letting something out that had been pent up too long.

Maybe that’s why I look forward to your letters so much. It’s like, when I read them, I can imagine you’re just here. Just… being you, I guess. And I don’t have to pretend, or put up any walls.

He hesitated, staring down at the ink-splattered page. Could he say what he was really feeling? Could he even put it into words without admitting everything he wasn’t sure he was ready to face?

With a trembling hand, he continued.

I’m not… I’m not great with words, Sokka. You know that. But I think what I’m trying to say is… it’s you. It’s always been you, the person I can talk to like this. I didn’t expect to feel so… well, so lost without you here. I guess what I’m trying to say is, when I picture what all of this should feel like—being Firelord, doing what I’m supposed to do—I can’t seem to picture it without you beside me.

I don’t know if any of this makes sense. And maybe it’s too much, maybe it sounds ridiculous. But it’s true. And I think… I think you should know that.

Zuko’s hand hovered over the page. He almost crossed it out, but something stopped him. He took a deep, shaky breath and let the words sit there, raw and open.

Anyway. I know you’re probably rolling your eyes right now, so I’ll spare you any more “mushy Firelord feelings,” as you’d probably call them. Just… write back when you get a chance.

Take care of yourself, alright? And, Sokka… don’t get yourself into too much trouble out there.

-Zuko

Zuko stared at the letter for a long time after finishing, his fingers lingering on the edge of the paper. There was a warmth in his chest, mingling with fear, but also a strange relief. For once, he’d let himself be honest. He’d let himself tell Sokka just a little of what he was feeling, even if he couldn’t say everything yet.

Carefully, he folded the letter, sealing it with the Fire Nation emblem, then walked it to the balcony. He lifted his hand, and a hawk swooped down, taking the letter and disappearing into the night.

As he watched it disappear, Zuko found himself smiling softly. It was a fragile feeling, but for the first time, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, Sokka would understand.

Chapter Text

Zuko,

You’re really something, you know that? I wasn’t expecting a letter from you to hit like… well, like that. I didn’t realize you could be so open, and now here I am, floating somewhere in the middle of the ocean, trying to figure out what to say back. You may not realize it, but hearing you lay it all out, like you’re right here, is about the only thing that feels real to me lately. About the food on Yukio Island? Well not something you could call the culinary adventure to be honest.

It’s been days since we’ve seen anything but water. I don’t even know which way we’re heading anymore. The horizon just keeps stretching out, one empty mile after the next, and no sign of land in sight. You’d probably laugh at me, standing here on the deck, looking like I’m ready to challenge the whole ocean because I’m tired of it ignoring me.

But then I get your letter, and suddenly the silence feels a little warmer. The days feel a little shorter. It’s like having something to pull me forward, something that reminds me why I’m out here in the first place. Maybe it’s crazy, but it feels like you’re out here with me somehow. I keep thinking that if I just keep going, I’ll see you standing on some distant shore, waiting.

I don’t know how to put this, but I think I’ve been drifting for a while, even before I set out to sea. And maybe I didn’t realize it until now, but I think you’re the reason I feel like I’m not totally lost. Maybe I didn’t know what I was searching for out here until I read your words.

There’s something about knowing you’re there, thinking of me, that makes this all a little easier. I can’t explain it, but it’s like… if I could just reach the shore and find you there, I might finally feel like I belong somewhere again. I’d probably never admit this to anyone else, but being out here, alone with my thoughts, I realize I want that more than I thought.

So keep writing. Write about anything—everything. Just don’t stop. Give me something to hold on to while I’m out here, fighting against the ocean, trying to figure out what I’m really after.

To the Firelord, from the sea,

Sokka

The faint flapping of wings reached Zuko’s ears, drifting through his open balcony doors and cutting through the late afternoon stillness. He straightened instantly, heart racing. The royal hawk. Sokka’s hawk.

Without even thinking, he leapt up from his chair, scattering papers across his desk in his haste. The afternoon sunlight streamed through his chambers as he moved to the balcony, his hand instinctively going to his hair to make sure he didn’t look like he’d been stuck in meetings all day. The hawk settled on the rail, dark eyes blinking as it presented a neatly folded letter. Zuko’s fingers trembled as he took it. Even without opening it, he could already imagine Sokka’s hurried scrawl waiting inside.

"Sokka…" he breathed, clutching the letter with a strange, unguarded warmth that had eluded him for days.

He wanted nothing more than to tear it open, to read whatever mix of sarcasm, banter, and buried honesty Sokka had decided to send this time. But just as he brushed a thumb over Sokka’s handwriting, reality set in. The Earth Kingdom officials were waiting for him in the meeting hall—likely already seated and discussing matters of trade and peace relations.

A sigh escaped him, a little wistful and a lot frustrated. He slid the letter carefully inside his robes, close to his chest, where he could feel the weight of it against his heart. It was ridiculous to think he’d ever need to feel that… grounded. Sokka had a way of making him feel seen in a way that no one else did, but that was something he could never say out loud.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Instead, Zuko took a deep breath, willing himself to steady, adjusting his robes as he glanced out at the afternoon sun. He’d get through this meeting and then— then —he could sit down and read every word.

Zuko turned back toward the hall, fighting a grin that stubbornly refused to leave his face, that small flicker of warmth that Sokka’s letters always managed to bring. With each note, it felt like Sokka was right there with him, tugging him just a bit closer, coaxing out the parts of him he could never seem to share with anyone else. But for now, there was a Fire Lord waiting to be the Fire Lord.

“Soon, Sokka,” he murmured as he slipped from the room, glancing at the letter one last time as he closed the door.

As soon as the meeting ended, Zuko hurried back to his chambers, shutting the door behind him as he pulled out Sokka’s letter. The late afternoon sunlight spilled across his room, casting a warm glow over the carefully folded paper in his hands. He hesitated only a moment before opening it, letting his eyes trace Sokka’s familiar scrawl, each line drawing him in deeper.

“It’s been days since we’ve seen anything but water. The horizon just keeps stretching out, one empty mile after the next, and no sign of land in sight.”

Zuko felt his heart tighten, the loneliness in Sokka’s words echoing his own. He could almost see Sokka out there, standing against the vast emptiness of the ocean, facing the endless stretch of sky and water with the same quiet determination he always had. The thought stirred something deep inside him, an ache he didn’t know he’d been carrying. He wished, more than anything, that he could be there with him, a steady presence in that wide, unforgiving sea.

Another line caught his eye, and he read it slowly, savoring each word:

There’s something about knowing you’re there, thinking of me, that makes this all a little easier.”

Zuko took in a breath, feeling the warmth of that sentence spread through him like sunlight breaking through clouds. Sokka’s words, though simple, held a kind of truth he’d barely dared to hope for—that somewhere out there, Sokka was thinking of him, just as he’d been thinking of Sokka. The way Sokka’s words reached across the miles made him feel less alone, made the burdens he carried somehow lighter.

He traced the last few words with his thumb, almost reverent:

“If I could just reach the shore and find you there, I might finally feel like I belong somewhere again.”

Zuko closed his eyes, clutching the letter against his chest, allowing himself to feel the longing and the unspoken promises held in those few lines. He’d spent so long trying to find his place, to be what everyone expected him to be, and yet here was Sokka, confessing in his own way that Zuko was the place he was searching for. The idea settled deeply within him, warming him from the inside out.

He whispered softly to himself, “I’ll be here, Sokka. I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

Zuko sat at his desk, the faint glow of twilight casting a soft warmth over the room. Sokka’s letter lay open beside him, the words a steady reminder of the connection that stretched across the miles, binding them even from afar. This time, he didn’t hesitate to pick up the quill. There was something about Sokka’s letter that made him feel… steady, grounded. Maybe it was the simple way Sokka had said everything, or the fact that he’d been so honest. Whatever it was, it eased some of the uncertainty that usually plagued him when he wrote, like Sokka’s words had pulled something raw and true out of him.

But then, as the quill hovered over the paper, he felt the familiar weight of all he wanted to say, and he hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts.

Just be honest, he reminded himself.

Sokka,

I feel like I’ve read your letter a hundred times now. Every time, it’s like hearing you speak right here next to me, and it’s strange how much that eases things. I never thought words on a page could make me feel so… close to someone. I know you’re out there, somewhere between endless sky and sea, but I don’t feel as far from you as I did before.

Today was one of those long days that seem to stretch out forever. I had back-to-back meetings with Earth Kingdom advisors, and they wanted answers to questions I’m not sure anyone has. You’d probably laugh if you were here—you always thought my “Firelord voice” was ridiculous. And maybe it is. But I keep wondering how different things would feel if you were with me, adding your own… input. Somehow, even the most tense situations feel lighter when I imagine you standing by my side.

I think what I’m trying to say is… there’s a part of me that misses you even when I know I’m not alone. I can be surrounded by advisors, generals, and staff, and still, the only person I’m hoping to see is you. It’s hard to explain, but you make things seem simpler, Sokka. When I’m talking to you—or even just writing to you—I don’t feel like I have to be anything more than myself.

If you ever find yourself wanting… well, a place to come back to, I hope you know there’s always room for you here, at the palace. I don’t mean just for a visit—I mean whenever you need a place to land, or somewhere you can feel at home. I don’t think I’d ever tell you this in person (I can already imagine you teasing me), but it’s true. If you need anything, you can come here.

Today, I stood on my balcony and looked out over the city. The sun was setting, casting this beautiful red-orange light over everything, and I kept thinking, “If Sokka were here, he’d probably say something ridiculous, then make me laugh until I couldn’t even pretend to be serious.” It’s strange… how the thought of you can make things brighter, even when you’re far away.

This is probably coming across as too much, but somehow, it’s easier this time. Maybe because I know you’re feeling some of this, too. I just… I want you to know I’m here, whenever you need me. And even though we’re far apart, I feel like we’ll always find our way back to each other, somehow.

Take care of yourself out there, Sokka.

—Zuko

Chapter Text

Zuko,

First off, I’ve gotta say—I never expected you to actually write about your day. I think that’s a first for Firelord “I Don’t Share Feelings” himself. And I mean that as a compliment, really. Usually, your letters read like a diplomatic decree or some kind of ancient scroll where I have to guess what you’re actually trying to say. But this… hearing about your day, your meetings, even the part about needing me there to lighten things up… it was nice, Zuko. Almost like I could actually picture you, in those robes you probably hate, talking about important things with that serious face of yours.

I’m not sure why, but reading that bit about your day was… well, it was the best part of my week. It felt like, I don’t know, a bit of solid ground under my feet for once. So thanks, Firelord Sharing-Actual-Personal-Details. Keep that up.

Now, as for me? Still stuck out here, floating between all these “heroic” missions and staring at endless blue. You know, for something that seemed so important when I started, all this fixing villages and rebuilding homes has started to feel like... well, more like I’m fixing everyone else’s life but my own. Or maybe I thought I’d magically “find myself” out here, sailing from one place to the next. But at this point, the only thing I’ve found is that I’m pretty damn good at being alone with my own thoughts—something I wouldn’t exactly recommend. Who knew that “trying to discover my purpose” would turn into “running away from everything I don’t want to deal with”? Not exactly the grand journey I’d planned.

I can practically hear you saying, “Sokka, you’re not actually running away from anything.” But I don’t know. There are days when I feel like the biggest thing I’m fixing is a weak excuse to stay away from something I might actually want. And, well… sometimes it feels like that something might be you. Not to get too sappy, but the thought of actually heading back your way, stopping all this drifting and actually seeing you again… yeah, it’s starting to sound better than I’d like to admit.

But for now, I’ll keep on pretending this whole voyage has a higher purpose and isn’t just me out here, one sarcastic sailor searching for something I could’ve probably found if I’d just stayed put. The worst part is that the more I think about it, the more your offer—staying at the palace, seeing your serious face every day, having someone to come back to—feels like a lot more than just “a place to stay.” Like maybe it’s the only thing that’d finally make me stop feeling so… lost.

So yeah, keep writing, Zuko. Tell me about your days, even the boring ones. Tell me about what the city looks like from your balcony and the people you meet who have no idea how stubborn and ridiculous you can be. Every word’s a little reminder of why this journey doesn’t have to be endless. And who knows? Maybe you’ll wake up one day and find me knocking on your palace doors, ready to call the place “home,” if only for a little while.

Until then… I’ll keep drifting. But now, it’s with a little less aimlessness.

To the Firelord, from the sea,

Sokka

Zuko sat alone in his bedchamber, Sokka’s latest letter spread out in his hands, and he read the lines over and over. The words blurred slightly, their meaning filling his chest with a quiet ache that was both comforting and almost painful. It was like Sokka had found a way to say everything Zuko himself had been afraid to admit—without really saying it at all. There was a kind of homesickness in Sokka’s words, a longing Zuko understood far too well. It was like hearing something he’d been waiting for, something that made the world feel smaller, even if they were still separated by a vast ocean.

“It felt like, I don’t know, a bit of solid ground under my feet for once.”

That line lingered with him. It was just a simple sentence, but Zuko couldn’t shake the feeling that Sokka was saying more than he let on. That somehow, Zuko had become the thing Sokka looked to for stability. A strange warmth bloomed in his chest, a soft, unexpected hope that maybe, somehow, they’d become something like a safe harbor for each other.

“The worst part is that the more I think about it, the more your offer—staying at the palace, seeing your serious face every day, having someone to come back to—feels like a lot more than just ‘a place to stay.’ Like maybe it’s the only thing that’d finally make me stop feeling so… lost.”

Zuko swallowed, his heart pounding as he read that line again. He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the window. Outside, dusk was falling, and the city beyond was slowly giving way to the quiet stillness of night. The world felt hushed, and in that silence, Sokka’s words echoed louder, filling up all the empty spaces Zuko tried so hard to ignore.

He’d spent so much of his life feeling alone, like he was adrift in his own way, surrounded by people who could never really see him, not like this. And here was Sokka, thousands of miles away, somehow putting into words the same restless ache Zuko felt every day. It was almost too much.

Almost like… a love confession.

No. No, it couldn’t be that. Could it?

Zuko took a shaky breath, trying to make sense of it all. There was something so vulnerable in Sokka’s words, a hint of the same searching Zuko felt every time he looked out at the horizon, every time he stood alone on the balcony and imagined what it would be like if Sokka were there beside him. Sokka was hinting at things, saying that this whole journey, this endless search for himself, was starting to feel like an excuse. That maybe he wasn’t looking for a place to belong, but for a person.

Zuko’s heart tightened. Because he felt it, too. He’d been feeling it all along, this quiet, persistent longing that had started the moment they’d parted ways. He’d been waiting for something to change, for something to fill the emptiness. And maybe, just maybe, that something was Sokka.

But he wasn’t sure if he was ready to let himself believe it. To hope that Sokka might feel the same way, to open himself up to the possibility that this connection wasn’t just in his own mind. Yet here it was, laid out in words—vulnerable and unguarded, the way Sokka always was, even when he was hiding behind jokes and sarcasm. There was a raw honesty in it that Zuko couldn’t ignore. It felt like being seen in a way he’d never been seen before, like Sokka was giving him permission to feel this, too.

He closed his eyes, his thoughts swirling with a gentle sadness and warmth all at once. He didn’t just want Sokka to visit the palace. He wanted Sokka to find his way back to him, not just as a friend, but as something… more. The ache of that realization felt both comforting and unbearable, like he’d found something precious but was terrified of losing it.

The thought brought him back to the quiet, lonely evenings he spent alone, the times he’d looked out over the city and wished there was someone who could understand what it was to feel out of place even in your own home. And now, maybe, he understood. Sokka was the answer to a question Zuko hadn’t even realized he was asking, and that knowledge made his chest tighten with both relief and a bittersweet longing.

Zuko whispered to the empty room, “I’m here, Sokka. You don’t have to keep searching.”

But he knew he couldn’t say that. Not yet. Not directly. He would write back, but he’d have to tread carefully, to find a way to tell Sokka he felt the same without pushing him away. But for now, just holding Sokka’s words was enough. It was enough to know that somewhere, across the sea, someone was thinking of him, was maybe even reaching out for him, just as he was reaching out in return.

And somehow, Zuko knew—they’d find their way to each other. Somehow, no matter how many miles lay between them, they’d come back to this feeling, this quiet understanding. And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.

Sokka,

I read your letter so many times I think I’ve practically memorized it. It’s strange—how a piece of paper and ink can carry someone’s voice, someone’s… presence, like they’re here, even when they’re not. I know it’s just your words, but somehow, it feels like more than that. Like part of you is actually here with me.

You said that the sea has a way of making you feel like you’re drifting, like you’re always moving but not really going anywhere. I get that. I think I’ve felt it too, even here in the palace. Being surrounded by people who expect so much, who see me as the Firelord, but don’t really… see me. I’ve felt adrift, just in a different way. But these letters—whatever it is we’re creating here—they’re the one thing that makes me feel… anchored. Like I’m not so alone.

I’ve tried to explain it to myself, this pull I feel every time I see a letter from you, every time I read your words. I don’t know if it’s something I’ve ever felt before. But whatever it is, I can’t ignore it. It’s like… like this constant, quiet presence that’s always there, no matter how far away you are. A part of me is starting to think that maybe this feeling—this connection between us—is something that goes deeper than I realized.

Something that doesn’t need to be understood, just accepted.

You asked if I’d keep writing. I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to. I don’t know what these letters mean to you, not fully, but to me… they’re a reminder of who I am beneath all of this. Beneath the title, the duties, the expectations. Somehow, talking to you lets me feel like I can be… myself. I don’t know if that makes sense, but it’s what I feel.

Maybe this connection is just something that happens between two people who’ve been through what we have. Or maybe it’s something else, something that doesn’t have a name yet. But whatever it is, I want it to keep going. I want to keep hearing from you, to know what you’re thinking and where you’re drifting. Even if we’re both just wandering, it feels less lonely knowing you’re out there, writing back to me.

And, Sokka… if this endless ocean ever starts to feel too empty, too quiet, you know where to find me. The palace, my home—there’s a place here for you. Always. It’s not just a place to stay. It’s… well, it’s where you’d find me. And if you need that, if you need anything… you know where I am.

So I’ll keep writing, and I’ll keep waiting, because something tells me this pull between us—whatever it is—will bring us back to each other eventually.

Until then, stay safe out there. And remember that, somehow, I’m always right here, wherever you are.

—Zuko

Chapter Text

Zuko,

So, I’m sitting on this island in the Fire Nation, trying to fix a village that’s been half-destroyed by a combination of earthquakes and what I think might have been some angry spirits. It’s called Isola del Fuoco—I know, it sounds dramatic. But it’s just another tiny place I’ve come to, to put things back together, like I always do. The people here are grateful, but they’re all a little on edge, especially with these strange spirits wandering around at night. Nobody really knows what to do about them, but I guess that’s nothing new, is it? Spirits and destruction are just another thing we’ve all had to learn to deal with.

I keep thinking about what you said in your last letter. About how these letters make you feel anchored, like you’re not alone even when you’re surrounded by people. I get it, I do. I never thought I’d say it, but these letters? They’re starting to mean a hell of a lot to me. It’s like… well, it’s like I’m sitting on a ship in the middle of an endless ocean, just drifting, and then your letter comes in like a lifeline. It pulls me back, reminds me that I’m not out here alone, even if you’re half a world away.

I guess I didn’t realize how much I needed that. How much I needed you.

I know it sounds stupid, but every time I get your letters, it’s like a little spark. I don’t know how to explain it, but it makes everything feel a little less empty, even when it’s late at night and all I’ve got is a half-finished house and a bunch of confused villagers staring at me like I’m supposed to have the answers. But when I open your letters? It’s like I’m finally seeing something real again.

And here’s the weird part—I can’t even explain what it is. All I know is that, when I close my eyes at night, I’m not just sleeping because I’m tired. I’m sleeping so I can see you, because I hate to wait so long for these letters. They’ve become my only connection to something that feels like it matters more than anything else in this broken world I’m trying to fix. When I say I sleep so I can see you, it’s not just about the damn sleep—it’s that I can’t stand the time in between. The waiting.

It’s like a tug in my chest every time I close my eyes, and I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it. These letters are becoming my anchor, and I don’t think I realized just how much I’ve needed something to ground me. It’s not about the work. It’s not about fixing villages or keeping people safe. It’s about you. And I’m starting to wonder if I’ve been chasing all the wrong things this whole time.

I’m supposed to be fixing things, right? That’s my whole deal. Fixing problems, making things right. But with you, with these letters? I don’t even want to fix it. I just want to be here. And that’s a terrifying thought.

So yeah, I’m out here. Still fixing things. Still trying to keep my head on straight. But every time I finish a task, I start to feel like I’m just burying myself in work to avoid… whatever this is between us. Whatever it means to me. Maybe it’s just too big to put into words. But whatever it is, it’s there, and it’s real.

I can’t make sense of it. I don’t know if I want to. But I know that as long as I’m getting these letters from you, as long as I can hear your voice through your words, I don’t feel so alone anymore. And maybe that’s enough for now.

I’ll be here, keeping my mind busy with whatever’s in front of me, but know that even though I’m out here, I’m still thinking about you. And I’m starting to think it’s not just the work that’s keeping me here anymore. It’s the hope that one day, maybe… I won’t have to wait so long.

—Sokka

P.S. I promise I’m not complaining. I’m just thinking. But you’ve got me thinking a lot lately.

Zuko’s hands trembled as he unfolded Sokka’s latest letter, eyes quickly scanning the familiar handwriting. He barely made it through the first few lines before his heart began to race. Sokka was here— in the Fire Nation . Zuko re-read the line, unable to believe it, as though the words might disappear if he blinked. Isola del Fuoco. It was close. He knew that village, knew the way the coast curved against the sea and how the trees clustered along the cliffs.

A warmth, a wild hope, surged through him. Sokka was here. Right here in his lands, not far, just within reach. Zuko didn’t waste a second. He grabbed his travel cloak, slipped Sokka’s letter safely inside his robes, and rushed to his guards, ordering them to prepare a small convoy immediately. When his aides and generals asked what this was about, he barely gave them an answer—“Important Firelord business”—before heading straight to the stables and instructing his servants to make haste.

His mind raced as the convoy rolled out toward the coast. The hours passed in a blur, each mile feeling longer than the last, the anticipation gnawing at him, bringing a strange, painful warmth to his chest. Sokka was just on the other side of this journey. Zuko held the letter close, reading and re-reading the lines that seemed to echo all the things he’d been feeling but hadn’t dared to put into words.

“These letters… They’ve become my only connection to something that feels like it matters more than anything else.”

Zuko’s breath caught every time he read it, each word embedding itself deeper, each one a silent promise that maybe—just maybe—this feeling was real, was shared, was somehow worth the ache it brought him. He imagined the look on Sokka’s face when he saw him, the sarcastic smile that would probably hide a hint of surprise, the way his eyes would light up, even if he tried to play it cool. Zuko let himself picture it, let himself hope that maybe this trip would be the start of something they could both name.

When they finally reached the village, Zuko could barely contain his excitement. He stepped down from his horse, not bothering with formalities, and went straight for the first villager he saw, his tone urgent but controlled.

“There was a man here—a Water Tribe sailor. His name is Sokka. Do you know where he is?”

The woman looked at him, surprised, and then something like recognition flickered in her eyes. “Ah, yes, the Water Tribe man. Sokka, was it? He was here, helping us repair some of the damage from the earthquakes. But… I’m afraid you just missed him, Firelord.”

Zuko’s heart dropped. “Missed him?”

She nodded apologetically. “He left just a day ago. Said he’d received an urgent message, something that required him to sail off again. He barely had time to gather his things before he was gone.”

The words settled over Zuko, cold and heavy. He’d been so close. So close he could almost feel Sokka’s presence, almost hear his laugh mingling with the salty sea air. And yet, Sokka had slipped away, like sand slipping through his fingers. Zuko felt the ache settle deep within him, a longing that was sharper now that he’d been this close. He’d come all this way, only to find Sokka had vanished just before he arrived.

The woman, noticing his expression, offered a kind smile. “He said good things about you, Firelord. Spoke of you with a kind of fondness I don’t think he realized. You must mean a lot to him.”

Zuko barely managed a nod, the warmth in her words feeling hollow against the ache inside him. Sokka was gone, somewhere across the water again, and Zuko didn’t know when—or if—he’d see him next. The excitement, the hope, the warmth he’d carried all the way here had transformed into a quiet sadness, a reminder of how far they really were from each other.

He stood there for a moment, gazing out toward the sea, feeling the emptiness of that horizon stretching before him. He could almost imagine Sokka’s ship there, a tiny dot in the vastness, growing smaller with every passing moment. Zuko took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, to contain the ache. The trip back felt longer, heavier, as he rode with the knowledge that he’d missed Sokka by mere hours, the closeness they’d shared in letters slipping just out of reach.

And when he returned to the palace, the weight of his duties and responsibilities fell over him like a shadow. For days, Sokka’s letter remained tucked away, unopened. He couldn’t bring himself to read it again, not when it only reminded him of how close he’d been and how empty everything felt now. And as the days turned into weeks, he realized with a pang that he hadn’t written back. The letter he’d planned, the reply he’d wanted to send—it had slipped from his mind, lost in the quiet sadness he couldn’t shake.

And so, Sokka’s letter remained unanswered.

Chapter Text

Zuko,

Well, it looks like I’m still out here, sailing from one mess to the next. I thought I’d get a letter from you by now, but I guess you’ve got more important things on your hands these days. Not that I blame you. I mean, I’m out here chasing spirits and trying to rebuild burned-down villages, and even I sometimes forget what I’m supposed to be doing.

Right now, I’m sitting on the docks of another island—Kagutsuchi. Nice name, right? Sounds a lot fancier than it is. It’s not even on most maps, and from what I can tell, that’s probably for the best. This place is… well, let’s just say it’s rough around the edges. Turns out there are some pretty stubborn folks here who don’t quite agree with how things have changed since the war ended. They’re a little too fond of the old “burn first, ask questions later” policies, and the locals are just about ready to tear each other apart.

It’s been… hard, watching it all. These people aren’t just resisting help; they’re terrified of what “peace” might mean for them. They think the new world order is just a trick, a way to weaken them. I even overheard a few of them muttering about how the “glory of the Fire Nation” is gone. Makes me wonder if they really understood what that “glory” cost in the first place.

Anyway, there’s a group of rebels out here who keep stirring things up. Angry spirits come at night, tearing up homes and crops, and the rebels claim it’s a punishment for those who side with the new regime. Some people even believe them. I tried to tell them that the spirits are just angry because of, you know, all the death and destruction this island has seen, but they’re not really interested in listening to some Water Tribe guy who “doesn’t understand their ways.” It’s… exhausting.

I’m heading out tomorrow morning. Feels like that’s all I ever do these days—help where I can, move on, and do it all over again. Not that it’s really helping much, to be honest. Every time I leave a place, it just feels like I’ve barely put a dent in anything, like I’m some band-aid on a wound that’s already infected. Like, am I really making a difference, or am I just here to make myself feel useful? Some days, I’m not so sure.

There’s a quiet on these docks tonight that feels heavier than usual. It’s like everything just… hangs in the air, waiting for something to change. But nothing changes. Just more angry villagers, more frightened people, more spirits that I can’t do a damn thing about. I don’t know, Zuko.

Sometimes it feels like I’m just wandering in circles, like I’m stuck out here on the sea trying to put my life together by fixing everyone else’s.

I guess I thought I’d feel like I was going somewhere, like all this work would give me some sense of purpose. But here I am, another nameless island, another group of people who probably won’t remember me once I’m gone. And the worst part? I don’t even blame them. It’s not like I’m leaving any real mark, just passing through, trying to convince myself that it matters.

Maybe that’s why your letters have been my one constant. I mean, at least when I’m reading them, I feel like there’s something that connects me to… well, to someone who actually gets it. Or maybe that’s just me being selfish. I don’t know. Maybe I’m trying to turn this into more than it is because it’s the only thing that makes sense in all this chaos.

Anyway. I’m leaving Kagutsuchi tomorrow, back to the open water, hoping the next place will feel different. But something tells me it won’t. And I’m still out here, drifting along, waiting for some kind of answer that I probably won’t find.

Until next time,

Sokka

Zuko paced his chambers, Sokka’s latest letter held tightly in his hands. He’d been waiting to hear from him, that familiar restlessness gnawing at him every day that went by without a letter. But as he finally sat down to read, the words felt heavier than usual, like they carried a piece of Sokka’s exhaustion, his uncertainty, even his loneliness.

He frowned as he read about Kagutsuchi—an island in the Fire Nation that still clung to the old ways, with villagers who feared change and held tightly to memories of the past . The idea of Sokka there, dealing with rebel forces and angry spirits, surrounded by people who saw Zuko’s peace as weakness... it made his chest tighten. This wasn’t what Sokka should be facing alone. It wasn’t what anyone should face alone.

Zuko’s heart ached as he re-read the line: “Maybe that’s why your letters have been my one constant.” He could almost hear Sokka’s voice, that subtle tone of weariness beneath his usual sarcasm. And Zuko felt a wave of something he couldn’t quite name, something that pulled him closer to the page, as though Sokka himself were right there. He wanted to close that distance between them, to be there with him, to give him something more than just words. But he couldn’t—not yet.

Instead, he let out a breath, took up his pen, and began to write, pouring his feelings into every word, even if he couldn’t quite admit all that he wanted to say.

He thought for a while if he should tell him about a Isola del Fuoco and that he actually wanted to see him . But after a while he decided not to.

It could cause more pain to Sokka.

Sokka,

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to respond. Your letter... it hit harder than I expected. I hate the thought of you out there, trying to help people who don’t even want to listen. I know what that feels like. I know what it’s like to carry the weight of the past, to have people resist the world you’re trying to create.

I’ll do something about Kagutsuchi. I don’t know what yet, but I’ll send someone, make sure they know they’re not abandoned. I won’t let them stay lost to a broken past. Not if it means putting you in danger.

And Sokka... you matter more than you think you do. Maybe it doesn’t feel that way now, but I want you to know that everything you’re doing means something. To me, at least. You’re not just drifting. You’re not just passing through. And whatever happens, I’ll always be here.

-Zuko

Zuko folded the letter with care, sealing it before slipping out of his chambers and handing it to a hawk messenger. As he watched it fly into the evening sky, he stood for a long moment, gazing at the horizon, hoping his words would reach Sokka and give him some sense of the connection Zuko felt, even if they were separated by miles of ocean. Then, with quiet resolve, he turned back toward his room, already planning his next steps to bring order—and protection—to Kagutsuchi.

Chapter Text

Zuko,

I’m writing this from the middle of the sea, because apparently, “fixing the world” isn’t enough to stop a bunch of crazed rebels from chasing me down. Some of the locals from Kagutsuchi weren’t too happy about the help I was offering, and let’s just say they’ve got… strong opinions on the new way of things. Our ship is dodging them, trying to stay a few leagues ahead while they shout threats from behind us, but for once, I’m actually a little scared. Okay, really scared. Every time I try to get some sleep, I can still hear them coming up on us, like shadows in the water. I guess facing angry rebels is just part of the job description now. Lucky me, right?

Can’t say I’ve ever been good at waiting around for my problems to just pass, and I feel like I’m on edge, like my head won’t stop buzzing with what-ifs. It’s been keeping me up—yeah, again. You’d probably tell me to just get some rest, to be “serious” about it, but that’s easier said than done out here. And sure, we’ve been through worse, but that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the fact that I’m literally one wrong turn away from disaster.

It’s funny, you know, because there was a time when you were the one chasing me across the world. And now? Now you’re the only thing that makes me feel like I’m not running. It’s like every time I read your letters, I can actually breathe again. It’s crazy, really—how someone who was once the thing I ran from has somehow turned into the place I want to run to. Maybe that’s just what happens when you stop trying to fight what’s right in front of you.

These nights on the ship, I close my eyes and I swear I can almost see you. I mean, I sleep so I can see you, Zuko, because every time I do, it’s like everything makes sense. Like this whole messed-up world falls into place, and I don’t have to be scared, or brave, or anything but just… here. I don’t know what that makes you—my safe place? My sanity? My something that I never knew I needed?

Look, I’m not sure what’ll happen next. I’m out here on a ship, half-wondering if I’ll survive tomorrow, but for now, I guess I’m figuring it out as I go. Trying not to think too hard about things I can’t change, trying to get through it all. But sometimes, all I want is to drop everything and just be… there. With you.

Maybe this is just a phase. Maybe I’m just tired and half-crazed from this endless, impossible mission. But maybe, it’s something else. And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want it to be anything different.

To the Firelord, from the sea

-Sokka

Zuko’s heart raced as he read Sokka’s letter, each line striking him with a fresh wave of fear and anger. The thought of Sokka out there, alone, running from rebels who despised everything he was trying to do—it was too much. Zuko clenched his fist, the letter crumpling slightly between his fingers as he tried to steady his breathing, tried to channel the fear flooding his chest into action.

He stormed out of his chambers, already calling for his advisors and guards. When they arrived, standing stiff and surprised in the hallway, Zuko didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice colder than ice. “I need a team sent out immediately to Kagutsuchi and every island near it. There are rebels attacking villagers—those loyal to the new way of things—and they’re putting innocent lives in danger.” His gaze was steely, unrelenting. “Track them down. Stop them. I don’t care what it takes.”

The guards exchanged a quick, startled look. “Yes, Firelord,” one of them managed, though Zuko could see the questions in their eyes.

“I don’t care how many of them there are or how long it takes to find them,” Zuko continued, his tone unyielding. “You’ll find these rebels, and you’ll put an end to their attacks. Is that understood?”

The guards nodded, murmuring “Yes, Firelord” as they hurried to follow his orders, wisely not daring to ask any questions. As he watched them leave, Zuko’s anger flickered, melting into the familiar ache of worry. He couldn’t bear the thought of Sokka out there, isolated and vulnerable, while he stayed safe in the palace. He needed to do something, anything, to protect him.

Returning to his chambers, Zuko sat down and, without hesitation, began writing his response. This time, he wouldn’t hold back. He wouldn’t let his fear stop him from saying what he needed to say.

Sokka,

I have to be honest—I hate every word of your letter. Not because of what you said, but because of the fear I felt reading it. The thought of you out there, being chased, in danger, with rebels at your back... I can’t stand it. I’ve already sent a team out to track these people down, to do whatever it takes to stop them from hurting you or anyone else. They’ll reach the islands soon, and I promise, I won’t let these rebels go unchecked.

And Sokka… I’m done pretending I can just sit here and be okay with this distance between us. I can’t keep hiding what I feel every time I read your letters, or pretending that I don’t wait for each one like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. I’ve tried to keep these letters neutral, to keep things simple, but the truth is, I don’t know if I can anymore.

Because the truth is, Sokka, I can’t sleep some nights without wondering if you’re out there thinking of me too. You’re not just a friend, or someone I hope stays safe. You’re… you’re everything. Every time I think of you, there’s this part of me that just… knows. That knows I’ll always want you to come back. And I know that if anything were to happen to you, there wouldn’t be enough words in the world to tell you how much you mean to me.

Maybe that’s love, or something close to it, or something we don’t have a name for yet. But I know it’s real, and I know it’s yours. So, whatever it is you’re fighting out there, remember that I’m here, and that I’ll be waiting. And someday, I hope you’ll come back—not just to visit, but to stay.

Stay safe. Keep writing. And know that I’m here, always.

-Zuko

Chapter Text

The early morning light crept into Zuko’s chambers as he finished up yet another scroll, the weight of responsibility heavier than usual. A faint sound outside his window caught his attention, and he looked up to see a messenger hawk land on his balcony. His heart skipped a beat. It was the hawk he had sent days ago with his letter to Sokka— the letter he’d poured his heart into.

The hawk looked tired, and its talons were empty. His letter was still attached to its leg , untouched . Zuko’s stomach twisted as he realized what that meant. The hawk hadn’t reached Sokka. Something had happened.

“No…” Zuko murmured, his hands trembling as he reached for the letter. He fumbled, barely able to detach it from the hawk’s leg before it flew off, disappearing into the dawn. He held the letter, staring at his own words, words Sokka might never see. His heart raced, the fear spreading through him, faster than he could contain it.

Without another thought, he bolted from his chambers, the letter clutched tightly in his hand as he ran toward the throne room where his advisors and guards were already gathering for the day’s briefings. They turned to look at him, startled, as he barged in, his face pale and his eyes wild.

“I need a team to search for Sokka. Now!” Zuko’s voice was sharper than he intended, filled with a desperation that echoed in the hall.

One of his advisors blinked in confusion . “Firelord, you mean to send a search party… for the Water Tribe emissary?”

“Yes, for Sokka,” Zuko snapped, barely able to keep his anger in check. “He was last near Kagutsuchi, but something’s happened. The hawk I sent to him came back with the letter still attached. He could be in danger, or worse.” He clenched his fists, feeling helpless as the fear began to suffocate him.

One of the guards exchanged a bewildered look with an advisor. “But, Firelord, setting up a search operation across such vast waters is… unprecedented. It would require resources, time, and—”

“I don’t care!” Zuko’s voice broke slightly, the weight of his worry cracking through his usual composure. “He could be hurt, or stranded, or—” He stopped, catching sight of his uncle, Iroh, watching him quietly from the corner of the room, a gentle yet knowing expression on his face.

Iroh stepped forward, his voice calm yet full of command. “Guards, advisors—leave us. I need to speak to the Firelord alone.”

The advisors hesitated, casting wary glances at Zuko, but under Iroh’s steady gaze, they slowly began to file out of the room. The last guard closed the door, leaving Zuko alone with his uncle. For a long moment, the room was silent, and Zuko could feel the weight of Iroh’s gaze on him.

“Zuko,” Iroh began softly, stepping closer. “What is this truly about, hmm? Why are you so desperate to find Sokka?”

Zuko tried to steady his breathing, gripping the letter tightly. He opened his mouth, but no words came. The emotions, the fear, the helplessness, all welled up inside him, too big to contain. He looked down at the letter, feeling the ache in his chest expand until he could barely breathe.

“It’s… it’s Sokka,” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I sent him a letter, and it never reached him. He’s out there, Uncle, alone and… something’s happened to him. He was running from rebels, and now… now he could be…”

His voice broke, and he felt his body shake as he tried to contain the torrent of emotions. “I can’t lose him,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “I can’t. Not now. Not… after everything.”

Iroh’s face softened, his gaze full of understanding. He put a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “My dear nephew,” he said gently, “your heart is telling you something important. Sokka is not just a friend to you, is he?”

Zuko looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate, his emotions spilling over in a way he could no longer control. “He’s… he’s more than that, Uncle. I’ve tried to ignore it, tried to tell myself it was nothing, but it’s… it’s not nothing.” His voice was thick with emotion, his heart laid bare. “I don’t know when it happened, but… he’s become everything. And if something’s happened to him, if he’s hurt or lost…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought alone was too much.

Iroh sighed, drawing Zuko into a warm, fatherly embrace. “It is a powerful thing, to care for someone so deeply,” he murmured. “I see it now, clear as day. You love him, Zuko. And that love is nothing to be afraid of. But you must let yourself feel it, and trust that you will find him. Sokka is strong, and so are you.”

Zuko leaned into his uncle’s embrace, feeling a rare comfort in the steadiness of Iroh’s arms. For the first time, he allowed himself to admit the truth, if only in his heart. He loved Sokka. It was the fear of losing him that had driven him to this edge, but now, with Iroh’s quiet reassurance, he felt a glimmer of hope, a determination he could hold onto.

He pulled back, looking up at his uncle with a fierce resolve in his eyes. “Then I’ll find him, Uncle. Whatever it takes. I won’t stop until I know he’s safe.”

Iroh nodded, a soft smile on his face. “Then go, my nephew. And trust that love will guide you to him.”

Zuko took a steadying breath, feeling his fear turn into resolve. He would send out every resource he had, search every island, every patch of sea. Because wherever Sokka was, Zuko would find him.

Zuko was still standing with his uncle, the faint sense of calm Iroh’s words had brought him starting to take hold, when he heard heavy, hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway. He turned to see one of his guards, battered and breathless, stumbling toward him. The guard looked worn to the bone, his face smeared with grime and his armor torn, as if he’d barely escaped a battlefield.

The guard reached Zuko, and, with a gasp, he fell to his knees, clutching his side as he tried to catch his breath. “Firelord… Zuko…” he managed, his voice strained and choked with exhaustion.

Zuko’s heart hammered as he crouched down, urging the guard to speak. “What happened? Tell me.”

The guard took a shaky breath, looking up at Zuko with terror in his eyes. “The rebels… they’re… worse than we thought,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’ve… they’ve taken to the seas… intercepting ships. It’s—” He swallowed, looking down as if he could barely bring himself to continue. “It’s carnage, Firelord. They ambushed us—took down so many of our ships.”

Zuko’s jaw tightened. “Go on,” he pressed, his voice growing colder as dread began to settle in his stomach.

The guard’s voice wavered. “One of the Water Tribe ships… it was… it was caught in the crossfire.” He looked up, and the despair in his eyes told Zuko everything he needed to know. “They bombarded it, Firelord. Tore it apart… down to pieces in the water. I don’t know who survived. Some of our own men were taken hostage by the rebels, and… I only managed to escape.”

Zuko’s heart sank, the cold realization sweeping over him like ice. A Water Tribe ship. He didn’t even need to ask which one—it could only be Sokka’s.

“No… no,” he whispered, his fists clenching as a surge of panic and fury began to rise in him. “Are you sure it was a Water Tribe ship? Are you sure?”

The guard hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, Firelord. It… it flew the Water Tribe colors. And the rebels, they… they showed no mercy.”

Zuko staggered back, the room spinning as he tried to process the guard’s words. Sokka’s ship, shredded to pieces, the crew caught in a merciless ambush, hostages taken. Sokka. He could barely breathe, the walls closing in as the full horror of it sank in. Sokka might be… he might…

“No,” Zuko muttered, his voice low, barely controlled. “This can’t be happening. It can’t.” He turned to the guard, his eyes burning with fury and fear. “Did you see anyone? Did you see if … if the Water Tribe emissary was taken? Or if he survived?”

The guard looked down, unable to meet Zuko’s gaze. “I… I’m sorry, Firelord. I didn’t see him. By the time I escaped, there was only wreckage and chaos. I don’t know… I don’t know who made it out.”

Zuko clenched his jaw, his fists trembling with the rage and terror roiling inside him. He felt as if he were teetering on the edge of something dark, something he could barely contain. Sokka could be dead, a voice whispered in his mind, and he couldn’t push it away. The thought alone was enough to make his chest tighten, his vision blur. He couldn’t lose him . Not like this.

He turned sharply to the guard, his voice seething with barely restrained fury. “Send every available ship we have to that area. I want the waters searched, every island, every shoreline. If there are survivors, I want them found. And if these rebels are behind this, I want them stopped.” His voice broke slightly, his emotions slipping through. “Do you understand?”

The guard nodded, his own face pale with fear at the sight of his Firelord so visibly shaken. “Yes, Firelord. I’ll make sure the orders are carried out.”

Zuko’s gaze drifted to his uncle, who was watching him with quiet understanding, his eyes full of the kind of sadness that came from knowing too well the pain of losing someone you love. Zuko didn’t need to say anything; Iroh knew.

“Zuko,” Iroh said softly, stepping forward, his hand resting gently on his nephew’s shoulder. “We will find him. And we will bring him home.”

Zuko closed his eyes, drawing strength from his uncle’s touch, though the fear still gnawed at him. “I can’t lose him, Uncle. Not now. Not after everything.” His voice cracked, and he felt a tear slip down his cheek.

Zuko prepared swiftly, wasting no time as he gathered his guards and resources, his heart a fierce, steady beat of determination. He wouldn’t leave anything to chance. He couldn’t. Every thought of Sokka—out there, alone, hurt, or worse—drove him to move faster, to press forward even when the hours stretched and hope felt thin.

As they sailed through the night, one of his scouts approached him with a tired man they’d picked up on a stray skiff a few miles back. The man was disheveled and clearly frightened, but he stammered out a few precious details: he’d heard rumors of rebels camped on a small island, Ember Hollow, a barren, isolated place. Zuko felt a rush of grim purpose, and he ordered his ship to change course.

When they finally reached Ember Hollow in the early hours before dawn, they kept their distance, the rocky cliffs of the island barely visible in the weak, predawn light. His guards suggested waiting until first light to make their approach; they’d have the advantage if they moved in daylight. Zuko agreed, though the delay twisted his stomach with impatience.

Zuko sat in his cabin, surrounded by silence as his ship anchored in the shadow of Ember Hollow. The rebels’ island loomed close, dark against the dawn, and his guards had assured him they’d be ready to move as soon as the first light hit. But now, alone in the dim glow of a lantern, all Zuko could think about was Sokka, somewhere out there—if he was even still alive.

He pulled out one of Sokka’s older letters, his hands shaking as he unfolded it. It was the letter Sokka had sent when he’d first mentioned the rebels, a half-joking, half-terrified account of his mission. The words hit harder now, given everything he’d learned since.

Zuko read quietly, his voice barely a whisper, letting Sokka’s words fill the empty cabin.

“I’m actually a little scared. Okay, really scared.”

He could practically hear Sokka’s voice—half laughing, half serious, like he was always trying to make light of the things that frightened him the most. Zuko clenched his fist, feeling the burn of anger flare in his chest. The thought of Sokka alone out there, fighting off rebels while trying to help people who barely wanted his help in the first plac e— i t was infuriating. And the fear beneath it made his pulse quicken, his stomach twist .

“You idiot,” he muttered, the words rough. “Why didn’t you just come back when you knew it was dangerous? Why didn’t you just…” He stopped, a thick knot forming in his throat, choking off his words. He knew why Sokka hadn’t turned back. He knew, because if the situation were reversed, Zuko would have done the same.

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes drifting back down to the letter, to another line that seemed to echo in the silence.

“Now you’re the only thing that makes me feel like I’m not running.”

Zuko’s hand tightened around the page, a mixture of longing and fear surging through him. If only he were here, right now, reading these words in person, looking at him with that stupid, confident smile, like he knew exactly what Zuko was feeling. But all he had were these words, fragile and distant, reminding him just how far apart they really were.

“You’re my safe place too, Sokka,” he whispered, though he knew the words would never reach him. “I don’t know what that makes us. But if you… if you don’t make it through this, I—” His voice cracked, and he stopped, swallowing hard, forcing himself to hold onto the sliver of hope that Sokka was still out there.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to read the last lines, the ones that were the hardest to get through.

“But sometimes, all I want is to drop everything and just be… there. With you.”

Zuko’s heart twisted painfully. If only Sokka could know how much he wanted the same thing— how , more than anything, he just wanted Sokka to be here, alive, safe, real. But that was the thing with Sokka: he had always been something of a dream, someone who came into Zuko’s life in unpredictable waves and just as easily disappeared.

And now, he was gone again, the letter a reminder of everything that could have been and everything that was still painfully uncertain.

Zuko took a shaky breath, folding the letter with care, tucking it back into his robes as he looked out at the island where the rebels lay in wait. He’d finish this. He’d go after them himself if he had to. Because if Sokka was out there, alive, he’d find him. And he’d make sure Sokka knew exactly what he meant to him, whatever that was.

Standing up, he called out to his guards, his voice steady with an icy resolve. “Prepare to land. We’re going in.”

He wasn’t just looking for the rebels. He was looking for Sokka. And he wouldn’t stop until he found him.

The first crack of fire lit the edge of the island as Zuko and his guards charged onto Ember Hollow’s rocky shore. The rebels were waiting, their stances fierce and unyielding, flames already flickering at their fingertips. Zuko didn’t hesitate, pushing forward as his guards surged around him, all of them prepared for the brutal, merciless battle they were about to face.

The air was thick with smoke and heat as firebenders from both sides threw flames through the darkened morning, each burst of fire colliding with another in a chaotic dance of orange and red. Zuko moved with purpose, his strikes precise, each flame thrown with deadly intent. He ducked and twisted, evading blasts from the rebels, retaliating with fire that was powerful, relentless . Every step, every strike, carried the weight of his anger, his fear, his desperation to bring Sokka back from whatever hell he might be caught in.

And then, through the haze of fire and smoke, he saw him—the leader of the rebels , standing atop a jagged rock, watching the battle with a smug grin. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, with a scar slicing across his cheek, and flames danced around his hands with an ease that spoke of years of training. His eyes met Zuko’s, and he laughed, a cold, mocking sound that cut through the roar of battle.

“Well, well,” he sneered, leaping down from the rock to stand before Zuko, “the Firelord himself has come to play soldier.” He raised his hands, fire pooling in his palms as he prepared to strike. “I didn’t realize our little rebellion was so important.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes, his hands igniting with a fierce blue flame. “You’re terrorizing innocent people. I’m here to put an end to it.”

The leader laughed, throwing a wall of fire that Zuko countered with his own. The flames collided, exploding in a burst of heat that made the air shimmer. “Your father would never have lowered himself like this,” the rebel leader taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. “He knew what it meant to be Firelord. Honor, respect. Not running around chasing after water tribe rats and playing savior to peasants.”

Zuko’s eyes flashed with anger, his fists igniting with an intense, focused flame as he launched himself forward, fire roaring as he struck. “My father was a tyrant!” he shouted, each word punctuated by a powerful strike. “He destroyed this country! I’m here to fix what he broke!”

The leader deflected Zuko’s blows with a series of fluid movements, matching his strength and speed. “Fix it?” he mocked, dodging a blast of fire with ease . “You’re a child pretending to be king. This isn’t honor. This is desperation.” He countered with a fierce kick, sending a wave of fire barreling toward Zuko, who narrowly dodged it, only to be met by a second attack that struck his shoulder, forcing him back.

Gritting his teeth, Zuko steadied himself, his determination unwavering.

He could feel the desperation building within him, a deep, consuming need to end this, to save Sokka, to protect his people. His flames grew hotter, brighter, as he launched another series of attacks, each one fueled by his drive to prove the rebel leader wrong, to prove that he was more than just a shadow of his father.

But the leader was stronger than he’d anticipated. He dodged Zuko’s flames with ease, moving in close to strike with brutal precision. Zuko barely had time to block, their fists colliding in a burst of flame, the heat scorching the air between them. The rebel leader’s grin only widened as he pressed forward, his attacks relentless, forcing Zuko to step back, his defenses weakening under the onslaught.

“You don’t belong here, Firelord,” the leader taunted, his voice low and venomous. “You’re just a boy with no place on a throne.”

With a sudden, powerful strike, the leader disarmed Zuko, knocking his sword from his hand, the blade clattering uselessly to the ground. Before Zuko could react, the leader swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground, the breath knocked from his lungs as he landed hard on his back.

In an instant, the leader was over him, pressing him down with the weight of his knee, pinning him to the dirt. Zuko struggled, fire sparking at his fingertips, but the leader grabbed his wrists, forcing his hands to the ground, the heat of his flames extinguished by the pressure. Zuko gritted his teeth, fighting against the weight pinning him, the hopelessness clawing at him as he looked around and saw his guards struggling, outnumbered, some already lying motionless on the ground.

The island was chaos, fire and smoke blinding him, the screams of his men echoing in the distance. Zuko’s heart pounded, his mind racing with fear, with anger, with the horrifying realization that this might be the end—that he might fail, that he might never see Sokka again.

The leader leaned down, his mocking grin a blur through the smoke. “See, Firelord?” he sneered. “This is where your honor gets you. Right here, on your knees, with nothing left to show for it.”

Zuko struggled, his breath ragged, his body pinned, the fight slipping away from him . And in that moment, surrounded by chaos, the weight of failure pressed down on him as heavily as the leader’s knee.

Chapter Text

Just as Zuko felt the weight of defeat settling over him, a blur shot through the air, whistling past him and striking the rebel leader square in the side of the head. A familiar thwack echoed through the clearing as the man stumbled back, momentarily disoriented. Zuko’s gaze darted toward the source, his breath catching as he spotted someone standing atop a nearby tree, dirty, scratched, and looking every bit as fierce as Zuko had imagined.

“Step off the Firelord,” Sokka called down, his voice as sharp and unyielding as his boomerang, which he now caught with one swift motion. His eyes widened slightly when he met Zuko’s, the relief there so quick and raw that it sent a surge of hope through Zuko’s heart.

“Sokka…” Zuko breathed, barely able to believe his eyes. Sokka was alive. Sokka was here, standing there like some wild, weather-worn hero, flanked by a rough-looking crew that could only be described as pirates, their grins as mischievous as his own. The edges of Sokka’s clothes were torn, streaked with dirt and soot, but his stance was confident, defiant , as he looked down on the rebel leader with a mix of disgust and amusement.

The leader staggered back to his feet, glaring up at Sokka, anger and surprise mingling in his expression. “And why should I listen to some Water Tribe peasant?” he sneered, trying to shake off the hit, his voice dripping with disdain.

Sokka grinned, an almost manic spark in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, his tone mocking as he tapped his boomerang against his shoulder.

“Maybe because I’m the guy with the people who know how to make an exit .” He gave a nod to one of the scruffy figures beside him—a grinning woman with a braided mohawk—who pulled out a small, suspicious-looking canister. She held it up with a wink, tossed it high in the air, and let it drop right into the center of the clearing.

The canister exploded on impact with a soft, muffled boom, releasing a thick, swirling fog that instantly swallowed the scene in dense, impenetrable mist. The air filled with shouts as the rebels staggered, coughing and stumbling, their vision completely obscured.

Zuko felt the weight of the leader lift as the man staggered backward, disoriented by the sudden blindness. Not wasting a second, Zuko surged forward, breaking free and slipping out from under the man’s grasp. The mist was cool and thick, clinging to his skin as he navigated through the chaos, his heart pounding with adrenaline and relief.

Zuko’s gaze snapped to a figure perched on a sturdy tree branch just beyond the fog. Even through the swirling mist, he recognized the shape, the outline of that familiar stance. Sokka. The sight of him, alive and steady, sent a surge of relief through him that he couldn’t put into words. He didn’t shout or call out; his instincts kicked in, and he ran, weaving between smoldering patches of fire and stumbling over branches as he closed the distance to the tree.

The fog was thick, each step blurring his vision further, but he pushed forward, determined. He reached the base of the tree and, without hesitation, began to climb, his hands gripping onto rough bark as he pulled himself up branch by branch, heart pounding in his chest.

He could barely see, the mist thickening around him, when suddenly a fireball struck the tree, shaking it violently. Zuko’s grip slipped, and he felt the ground pull him downward as his fingers lost their hold. For a terrifying moment, he plummeted, disoriented, bracing for the fall—

But then, a hand shot out of the fog, catching him firmly by the wrist.

Zuko blinked, breathless, his vision blurring as he dangled in the air. He looked up, trying to see who held him, but the fog concealed their face, leaving only the firm, steady grip that anchored him. He grasped the wrist with his other hand, feeling himself pulled upward, the touch surprisingly familiar, sure.

With one final push, he climbed up, dragging himself onto the branch until he was level. As he straightened, his gaze met a pair of blue eyes piercing through the fog—clear, unwavering, and full of relief .

It was Sokka. Alive. Standing there, dirt-smudged and scratched, but unmistakably him.

For a heartbeat, they simply stared at each other, suspended in the mist as if the world beyond them had fallen away. Zuko’s golden eyes, like molten fire, met Sokka’s blue gaze, clear and deep as the ocean. Together, their eyes held the clash of opposites: fire and water, sun and sea. And yet, in this moment, they felt like two parts of a whole—elements that balanced one another, grounding and steady.

Sokka’s eyes softened, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. There was something in his gaze that was warmer than anything he could have spoken—a look that said I’m here, steady and unwavering, and it filled Zuko with a hope he hadn’t dared to feel.

Zuko let out a slow, shaky breath, his own grip on Sokka’s arm lingering a moment longer, like he needed to confirm this wasn’t some illusion conjured by desperation. Sokka’s hand remained firm, his touch an anchor in the haze.

The fog curled around them, muffling the sounds of chaos below, yet all Zuko could focus on was the silent understanding between them.

The silence lingered between them, thick with everything they’d left unsaid, neither one willing to break it just yet. Zuko’s heart hammered in his chest as he held Sokka’s gaze, feeling the warmth of relief—and something else he couldn’t quite name—flood through him.

But then, Sokka cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “As much as I’d love to just stand here staring into your… intense Firelord eyes, we’ve got a few angry rebels to deal with,” he said, his voice soft but carrying a familiar teasing edge. He gave Zuko a crooked grin, and in that instant, everything felt a little more like them.

Zuko felt a warm flush rise to his cheeks and quickly looked away, coughing to mask his embarrassment. “Right, the rebels. Wouldn’t want to, uh… get distracted.” He tried to compose himself, but his heart was still racing. He glanced back at Sokka, an eyebrow raised. “So, I assume you actually have a plan here?”

Sokka rolled his eyes, giving Zuko a mock-offended look. “What, you think I came all this way just to look pretty?”

Zuko smirked, the tension easing slightly. “Well, that does seem to be your specialty.”

“Funny,” Sokka shot back, with an exaggerated sigh. “For your information, the plan’s already in motion.” He gestured down toward the foggy battlefield, where Zuko could just make out the shadowy forms of

Sokka’s unexpected reinforcements. “Turns out I made a few new friends while I was stranded. Some pirates who aren’t exactly thrilled with the rebels either. They want revenge for the damage to their own trade routes. And, well… let’s just say I wouldn’t have made it this far without them.”

Zuko’s eyes flicked to the figures below, trying to make sense of it. “Pirates? You trust them?”

Sokka shrugged, flashing a grin. “Trust might be a strong word. Let’s just say we’ve got a temporary alliance—an ‘enemy of my enemy’ kind of thing. Besides, they’re good in a fight, and right now, we need every advantage we can get.”

“So, what’s the plan, then?” Zuko asked, an intrigued glint in his eye. He found himself almost… enjoying this, despite the danger. There was something strangely comforting about being in this mess with Sokka.

“Glad you asked, Your Highness,” Sokka replied, his tone light but his eyes serious as he launched into his explanation. “We’re going to create a diversion. The pirates will draw the rebels out to the clearing with some, uh… flashy distractions, while we sneak around from the side. Once they’re drawn in, we split them up. Divide and conquer.”

Zuko listened carefully, nodding as he visualized the plan. He could see the way Sokka’s mind worked, piecing together tactics with a natural ease, and it was… impressive. Clever, in a way that was both bold and unorthodox. He could tell Sokka had thought through every risk, every possible outcome.

“Alright,” Zuko said finally, glancing back at him with a small, appreciative smile. “It’s a good plan. And very… you. ” He paused, the words uncharacteristically soft. “Glad you’re here to help see it through.”

Sokka gave him a quick, lopsided grin, though there was a warmth in his eyes. “Glad you’re here too. Wouldn’t be a proper fight without the Firelord, right?”

Zuko tried to keep his composure, but something about the way Sokka looked at him, even in the middle of a chaotic battlefield, made his chest tighten. He nodded, the weight of the moment sinking in as he braced himself, his focus sharpening. “Alright then,” he said, his voice more steady. “Let’s end this.”

They shared one last glance, and then, without another word, they moved into position, ready to fight side by side.

Just as planned, the pirates Sokka had recruited began their diversion, spreading out along the clearing with a series of loud, blindingly bright fireworks and explosives that crackled through the fog, lighting up the rebel camp like lightning in a storm.

One of the pirates let out a bellowing laugh, hoisting a torch as he charged forward, his team following close behind. “Come on, you Fire Nation cowards!” he shouted, his voice carrying through the chaos. “Come see what a real fight looks like!”

The rebels, initially caught off guard, scrambled to organize themselves, the leader barking orders to his men to form ranks. But the pirates’ wild tactics—firecrackers, flashes of light, and sheer audacity—threw the rebels off balance, drawing them out into the clearing just as Sokka had planned.

From his position, Sokka shot Zuko a quick grin. “Gotta love a good distraction. Shall we join the fun?”

Zuko nodded, his gaze fixed on the leader of the rebels , who was now exposed and directing his forces in confusion. “Let’s end this.”

Together, they moved in. Zuko leaped down from the tree, his hands igniting in fierce blue flames as he landed in the heart of the battlefield. With a powerful swing, he sent a wave of fire surging through the ground, forcing several rebels to scatter and splitting their forces in half. Sokka followed, boomerang in hand, slipping through the confusion like a shadow, picking off rebels with swift, calculated strikes.

“Hope you weren’t expecting this kind of welcoming committee!” Sokka called, his voice carrying a mocking edge as he flung his boomerang, taking down two rebels who had tried to flank Zuko. “Consider yourselves evicted from your own rebellion!”

A few rebels tried to regroup, but the pirates struck again, unleashing smoke bombs that exploded in thick clouds around them, obscuring their vision. Zuko pushed forward, taking advantage of the chaos, weaving through the rebels with practiced precision, his flames cutting a path straight toward the leader.

The rebel leader finally noticed Zuko’s advance and snarled, his fists lighting up with a blaze of fire. He launched a powerful blast at Zuko, who sidestepped it, sending his own strike in return. Their flames clashed in a brilliant flash , lighting up the clearing as they battled, each movement swift and unforgiving.

As they fought, the leader sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “So, the great Firelord has to stoop to working with pirates and peasants now? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

Zuko’s expression remained steady, unfazed. “A great leader knows how to use the strengths of everyone they meet,” he replied, his voice calm but deadly serious. “It’s not about looking powerful on your own. It’s about making sure no one stands alone.”

The leader scoffed, launching another blast of fire that Zuko dodged, his expression twisting into a bitter smile. “You sound just like that weakling uncle of yours. I bet your father would be ashamed to see you now.”

Zuko’s eyes narrowed, his voice like steel. “My father thought power was about fear and control. But real power is earned through trust and loyalty. It’s something you’ll never understand.”

Sokka, who had slipped through the chaos to flank the leader, suddenly appeared behind him, boomerang-ready. “Yeah, it’s a real shame you missed the ‘make good choices’ lesson,” he quipped, flashing Zuko a quick grin. “Guess that’s what happens when you surround yourself with people too scared to tell you you’re wrong.”

The leader turned, fury blazing in his eyes, but his rage only made him sloppy. Zuko seized the opportunity, launching a focused, powerful strike that knocked the leader back, sending him sprawling onto the ground. The leader tried to rise, but Sokka was there in an instant , pressing a boot to his chest.

The leader looked up at them, his expression filled with seething anger. “Enjoy this while it lasts, Firelord,” he spat. “You think they’ll respect you for this? Working with pirates, bending to weaklings, mingling with the enemy?”

Zuko didn’t flinch, his gaze steady. “They’ll respect me for standing up for what’s right,” he replied, his voice calm and unshakable. “For protecting those who can’t protect themselves. For building alliances, not breaking them. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Sokka gave the leader a mocking salute, his grin full of mischief. “You see, it’s called teamwork, which is a lot more effective than whatever ‘bully your way through life’ strategy you’ve got going on.”

Zuko nodded, looking down at the leader with a steady gaze. “This rebellion is over. And whatever power you thought you had? It’s gone. All because you chose fear over strength, control over unity. That’s why you’ll lose. Every time.”

With the rebels either subdued or scattered, the fight was finally over. Zuko took a deep, steadying breath, glancing over at Sokka, who was still standing close by, a victorious glint in his eye. They shared a brief, silent look, a mutual acknowledgment of everything they’d just achieved—together.

The steady rhythm of the waves surrounded them, the night air cool and thick with the scent of salt. Zuko stood on the deck of the ship , watching as his guards and crew prepared for the voyage back to the palace. Just a few more instructions, a nod here and there, and the ship was ready to depart. But his attention kept drifting to the figure standing at the foredeck, his gaze lost in the distance, where the ocean met the horizon.

Sokka.

Even from here, Zuko could see the tension in his posture, the way he stood silently staring at the moon, his usually animated expression quiet , thoughtful. Something about the way he was looking at the night sky made Zuko’s heart twist—a feeling that was both comforting and bittersweet.

He let out a quiet breath, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves in his stomach. After all they’d been through these past days, it felt surreal to be standing beside him, so close, with nothing but the ocean stretching out around them. He was alive. He was here. And despite the chaos of their escape, there was a fragile peace in that.

Once he was sure his final commands were taken care of, Zuko walked over to him, his footsteps quiet against the deck. He paused just a few steps behind Sokka, wondering what to say , how to start. There was so much he wanted to ask, so much he’d almost lost the chance to tell him—but now, with Sokka right in front of him, every word he’d rehearsed on the battlefield felt out of reach.

Finally, he swallowed, and with an awkward cough, said, “It’s… it’s a nice night, huh?”

Sokka glanced over, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Nice night?” he echoed, one corner of his mouth tugging upward. “After all that, you’re making small talk about the weather?”

Zuko felt his cheeks warm, but he pushed through the embarrassment. “Well, I didn’t know where else to start,” he muttered, trying to cover up the awkwardness with a shrug. He looked back at Sokka, noticing the scratches and cuts on his face, the dirt smudging his cheek, and the way his arm looked… not quite right. “Have your wounds been treated?”

Sokka shrugged, turning his gaze back to the horizon. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse,” he said, his tone dismissive, though Zuko could see his grip tightening on the rail.

Zuko frowned. “That’s not the point. You shouldn’t ignore it.” He crossed his arms, his tone softening a little. “You’re not exactly… indestructible, Sokka.”

Sokka let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe not, but I’m not about to let a couple scratches slow me down.” He looked back at Zuko, the moonlight catching in his blue eyes, giving them a strange kind of depth that made Zuko’s heart skip a beat.

“Still,” Zuko pressed, taking a careful step closer, “your clothes are… practically in shreds.” He tried to keep his tone light, though he couldn’t shake the concern in his voice. “You need a new pair before we reach the palace. We can’t have you looking like you’ve been dragged across Ember Hollow and back.”

Sokka’s eyes sparkled with faint amusement, but he rolled them anyway. “Oh, come on, my ‘warrior attire’ is fine.”

Zuko didn’t wait for more protest . With a small, determined grin, he took hold of Sokka’s arm and gently but firmly guided him toward the cabin. “I’m not risking a Water Tribe ambassador showing up looking like he’s been through a swamp.”

Sokka huffed in protest, though he didn’t pull away, letting himself be steered inside. “You know, I thought you’d changed, Zuko. Turns out, you’re still bossy as ever.”

“Someone has to make sure you don’t fall apart,” Zuko replied, hiding a smile as he led him into the small but warm cabin, which was lit by a soft, flickering lantern. The light cast a gentle glow, and he couldn’t help noticing the way it softened Sokka’s features, making his expression look both vulnerable and proud.

As Zuko found a small first aid kit on the table, Sokka sat down on the edge of the cot, watching him with an unreadable expression. “You know, you don’t have to do all this,” Sokka said, his tone almost hesitant, as if there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t quite bring himself to. “I’m… I’m okay , really .”

Zuko took a seat beside him, placing the kit between them. He was quiet for a moment , unsure how to respond, then finally spoke, his voice softer. “Sokka… I almost lost you out there. And these past few days, the only thing that kept me going was… was knowing you were still out here somewhere. I’m not going to just … ignore it when I can actually do something about it.” He handed Sokka a fresh cloth, not quite meeting his eyes.

There was a pause, and then Sokka took the cloth, their fingers brushing briefly. “You know, it’s kind of funny,” he murmured, staring down at the cloth as if it held some answer he couldn’t find. “There was a time you were the last person I ever wanted to be stuck on a ship with.”

Zuko looked over, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Guess things change,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sokka looked back at him, his gaze softer than Zuko had ever seen. “Yeah,” he said, his voice thoughtful, as if he were realizing it himself. “They do.”

For a few heartbeats, they sat in silence, the quiet weight of what they hadn’t said hanging between them.

As Zuko dabbed a cloth over a shallow cut on Sokka’s cheek, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to the gnawing question that had been haunting him since they’d found each other again. He paused, glancing at Sokka’s face, which seemed focused on the floor, his gaze distant, haunted.

“Sokka,” he began carefully, keeping his voice soft as he wrung out the cloth. “What… what happened to your ship? Your crew?” He forced himself to stay calm, though the thought of Sokka out there, trapped on a burning ship, filled him with a sickening dread he couldn’t quite shake.

Sokka let out a long sigh, his shoulders sagging, the weight of the past few days settling over him like a shadow. As Zuko pressed a fresh cloth to a scrape on Sokka’s arm, Sokka gritted his teeth, wincing slightly, though Zuko couldn’t tell if it was from the pain of the wound or something deeper.

After a moment, Sokka looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening, though he wasn’t crying. His voice, when he spoke, was low and rough. “They… the rebels didn’t give us a chance, Zuko. It was like they knew where to find us, knew we’d be unprepared.” He swallowed, his gaze turning hard, distant. “We didn’t even get a warning. They just attacked out of nowhere—came at us with everything they had.”

Zuko kept quiet, his hands steady as he continued cleaning Sokka’s wounds, though his heart ached hearing the pain behind Sokka’s words.

Sokka clenched his fists, his jaw set as he spoke. “I… I barely had time to react. One minute, we’re sailing, and the next, the whole ship’s on fire. My crew—” His voice hitched, and he took a shaky breath, steadying himself. “They were gone. Every single one of them. I tried to help, but there was nothing I could do.”

Zuko felt a pang of sorrow for the people Sokka had lost, the weight of it heavy in the air between them. He reached out, placing a steadying hand on Sokka’s shoulder, grounding him, but he kept silent, letting Sokka speak on his own terms.

“I jumped overboard,” Sokka continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “The ship was already gone—burning to pieces, shredded to bits. I thought… I thought I was going to drown, out there in the waves. I was watching it sink, and all I could think was, ‘This is it.’” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as his voice dropped lower, barely audible. “I thought I was going to die with the ship.”

Zuko’s heart clenched, the image of Sokka alone in the vast, merciless sea, his ship burning and his crew gone, piercing through him like a blade. He gripped Sokka’s shoulder a little tighter, his own voice barely steady. “But you didn’t. You made it.”

Sokka nodded, his gaze drifting back to the floor. “Yeah. I made it, barely. The pirates found me just before I went under. At first, they held me hostage, figured they could get a ransom from the ‘Water Tribe emissary.’” He smirked slightly, the humor dark and hollow. “But after a few days, they realized I wasn’t much of a threat. We struck a deal—I help them go against the rebels, they help me get back to land.”

Zuko tried to swallow the lump in his throat, his mind reeling as he processed it all. He couldn’t imagine what Sokka had been through, the horror of watching everything around him burn, the isolation of being trapped out in the ocean, surrounded by strangers who only saw him as leverage. And yet, somehow, Sokka had come through it. He was still here, strong, determined, still himself—even after all he’d endured.

“I can’t imagine…” Zuko’s voice was barely a whisper, the words faltering as he looked down, feeling the weight of his own helplessness. “I had no idea it was that bad, Sokka.”

Sokka met his gaze, his eyes carrying a haunted sadness that seemed deeper than the sea itself . “Yeah. I’m… still trying to figure out what it all means,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw. “I thought I had some kind of purpose out here, some direction. But now… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just drifting.”

The vulnerability in Sokka’s voice stirred something deep within Zuko, a fierce, protective urge to be the anchor that Sokka was looking for, whether he realized it or not. He wanted to say something, anything to give Sokka comfort, to let him know that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to be.

But before he could gather the courage to speak, Sokka looked at him, his expression questioning. “Zuko… how did you even know to look for me?” he asked, his voice gentle but with an edge of curiosity. “How did you know my ship was destroyed?”

Zuko opened his mouth, but no words came out. His throat tightened, and he felt the weight of everything he’d felt, everything he hadn’t yet told Sokka, pressing down on him. He looked at Sokka, at the raw vulnerability in his eyes, and he felt the ache of every unanswered word he’d kept inside.

Part of him wanted to tell Sokka the whole truth—the fear that had gnawed at him, the sleepless nights he’d spent waiting, and the way he’d set out because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. But he held back, feeling that same familiar caution, the hesitation that kept him from spilling the things he felt most deeply.

“It… it was one of my guards who first saw it,” he said, forcing himself to sound steady. “I’d sent out extra patrols along the coast because of rebel attacks, just in case. One of them spotted the ship—yours—right as it was destroyed.” He paused, taking a breath. “When I heard, I thought… I thought you were all gone. That there was no way anyone could have survived.”

Sokka nodded, his eyes fixed on Zuko, the depth of his gaze unreadable.

“I guess I got lucky,” he murmured, his voice low.

Zuko forced a small, hollow smile. “Yeah. Lucky.” He could still remember the panic he’d felt when the guard had stumbled back to him, exhausted and bleeding, with the news that every ship crew member had been killed. The memory burned, and he felt the weight of it settle over him again, heavy and unshakable.

In the silence, his mind drifted back to the letter he’d sent Sokka, the one that had come back without reaching him. That had been his first clue—his first hint that something was wrong. He’d set out patrols only after that, a quiet, desperate measure, hoping that he was wrong, hoping Sokka was safe somewhere, writing back. He almost told Sokka this, the truth he’d been holding back.

Why didn’t I just say it? The thought gnawed at him. He knew he should tell Sokka, let him see the depth of the fear he’d felt, the unspoken truth in his decision to search for him. But the words stayed locked inside, buried beneath the need to keep his composure.

Sokka nodded absently, his gaze turning back to the horizon. “Thanks for… well, for finding me, I guess,” he said, his voice quiet. “Though I guess if you hadn’t, I’d probably be bartering my way to the next island with those pirates.”

He glanced at Sokka, who was looking back out at the water, his expression quiet but pensive, as if he too sensed there was more to say.

Zuko took a deep breath, feeling his heart pound, and finally spoke.

“Sokka… there’s something else.” He hesitated, watching as Sokka turned to him, eyebrows raised slightly in question. “ The reason I sent those patrols in the first place… it wasn’t just because of the rebels. Or because I was worried about random ships. It was because of… you.”

Sokka’s face softened with a flicker of confusion. “Because of me?”

Zuko nodded, the weight of his confession pulling at his voice. “I… I sent you a letter, a few weeks ago. I thought it was just another one of our letters, you know, where I… where I tell you everything I don’t seem to be able to say face-to-face.” He paused, feeling his cheeks warm slightly but forcing himself to continue. “But the letter came back. It returned without reaching you. The hawk arrived with it still tied to its leg. And that’s when I knew something was wrong.”

He looked down at his hands, then back at Sokka, his heart tightening as he saw the faint surprise in Sokka’s expression. “That was what made me send out those patrols. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened to you. I didn’t know where you were or what might’ve gone wrong, but… I couldn’t ignore it.”

For a moment, Sokka just stared at him, his expression unreadable, though his gaze softened, his eyes catching the dim lantern light. “So… that letter. That was why you sent them.”

Zuko nodded, the words tumbling out now that he’d opened the door. “Yes. That letter. It was… it was the reason I knew to look. And it wasn’t just… not knowing if you were safe. It was that I couldn’t stand not knowing. I needed to know you were okay, that you were still out there. So I did everything I could to find you.” He swallowed, his throat tightening. “I couldn’t imagine you not being… somewhere I could reach you.”

Sokka’s gaze held his, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. Then, with a soft smile, he shook his head, his voice low. “You know, for a Firelord, you’re pretty terrible at just sitting on your throne and waiting.”

Zuko let out a quiet laugh, a mixture of relief and vulnerability in his voice.

“I guess you make it hard for me to stay in one place.” He paused, looking down for a second before meeting Sokka’s gaze again. “I couldn’t let myself believe you were gone. I didn’t want to. So… I didn’t.”

Sokka’s smile softened, something unspoken in his expression as he looked back at Zuko. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t. Because here we are.”

They fell into silence again, but this time, it felt different—warmer, like something had settled between them, a quiet understanding, an acknowledgment of all the words they hadn’t yet found the courage to say.

Chapter Text

Sokka cleared his throat, breaking the silence with a smirk. “So… you send out guards, set up patrols, and organize a full rescue mission just to find little ol’ me?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. “I gotta say, Firelord, if you’re trying to woo me, there are easier ways. Like, I don’t know, arranging a marriage proposal? You know, go big or go home.”

Zuko chuckled, his tension easing at Sokka’s teasing, and he rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he replied dryly, though his cheeks flushed. He could feel the warmth spreading, and he quickly looked down, hiding his smile. “Anyway, it’s late. You should try to get some sleep,” he added, his voice softening. “Especially after everything you’ve been through.”

Just then, there was a knock on the cabin door. One of Zuko’s guards appeared, handing Zuko a fresh set of clothing—a neatly folded Water Tribe outfit, clean and pressed. Zuko took it with a nod, then turned back to Sokka, who was watching with an amused smile.

“Wow, you really did think of everything, didn’t you?” Sokka quipped, eyeing the clothes. He feigned a look of surprise. “I guess next you’ll be arranging the wedding date.”

The words hung between them for a second, and Zuko felt his heart skip as the image of that future—one he hadn’t dared to imagine—flashed through his mind. He forced himself to smile, playing along. “It’s just a small necessity,” he said, trying to sound casual, though he felt his own pulse racing. “I mean, I couldn’t let you walk into the palace looking like… that.” He gestured to Sokka’s torn, dirt-streaked clothing.

Sokka grinned, and his gaze softened a little , a hint of genuine warmth breaking through the joking. “Thanks, Zuko. Really. For all of it.” His voice held an unusual sincerity that caught Zuko off guard.

They stood there for a moment, the space between them charged. Their eyes met, and Zuko felt an electric tension crackling in the air, holding them together. Sokka’s gaze was steady, his blue eyes catching the dim lantern light, and Zuko felt the tug of it, pulling him in closer. They stood there, just a few inches apart, neither one breaking the gaze, and Zuko felt himself falling into that familiar, unspoken connection, the intensity of it stealing his breath.

Finally, Zuko cleared his throat, looking away abruptly to steady himself. “Right. I’ll, uh … I’ll give you some privacy to change,” he said, feeling his cheeks warm again. He forced himself to keep his voice even. “I’ll be in my cabin. Doing… paperwork. You can, um… find me later if you need anything.”

Sokka’s lips curved in a smirk. “Paperwork, huh? You’re sure you don’t mean staring at maps dramatically?” But he waved a hand, smiling. “Go on, then. I’ll be here, changing into my arranged ‘wedding attire,’” he teased, though there was a subtle warmth behind his words.

Zuko gave a faint, embarrassed nod and slipped out of the cabin, closing the door behind him. The moment he was alone, he leaned back against the door, letting out a slow, shaky breath as he tried to calm his racing heart. The feel of Sokka’s eyes on him lingered, the weight of that gaze making his whole body feel lighter, unsteady. His fingers brushed the door, and he smiled to himself , feeling a mix of relief and exhilaration that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He closed his eyes for a moment , breathing deeply, letting the quiet realization settle over him.

This was real.

As Zuko leaned against Sokka’s cabin door, eyes closed and trying to calm his racing heart, he felt a prickling sense of being watched. Slowly, he opened his eyes, turning to see two of his guards a few paces down the hall, frozen mid-step, openly gawking at him. One of them, a young soldier named Ren, had an amused, knowing grin, while the older guard, Hiroshi, looked like he was holding back a laugh.

“Something amusing you two?” Zuko asked, straightening and quickly schooling his expression into one of cool authority. His cheeks still felt a little warm, but he kept his tone steady.

Ren smirked, bowing deeply with an exaggerated sweep of his arm. “Oh, no, Firelord, we’re just… appreciating your dedication to overseeing personal guest accommodations.”

Hiroshi chuckled, nodding sagely. “It’s good to see you’re taking such care with… certain guests. Very thorough work.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, though a small smile slipped through as he crossed his arms. “If you two have nothing better to do than stand around staring at me, perhaps I should assign you both to a night patrol.” He raised an eyebrow. “You know, check the perimeter or… something.”

The guards’ grins only widened, undeterred by the half-hearted threat. Ren gave a playful salute. “Of course, Firelord! We’ll be sure to secure the perimeter and make sure… certain guests rest safely.”

Hiroshi added, “Let us know if you need any help, maybe with … arranging special accommodations in the palace.”

Zuko fought the urge to roll his eyes again, merely giving a dismissive wave. “Go on, before I actually assign you extra duties.”

The guards snickered as they finally headed off, leaving Zuko alone again. With a final glance at Sokka’s door, he exhaled and headed toward his own cabin, trying to shake off the lingering sense of warmth and exhilaration. The evening had certainly taken an unexpected turn , and now , as he settled at his desk and took out his scrolls, he found himself unable to concentrate on anything but a pair of mischievous blue eyes and the way Sokka’s teasing smile lingered in his mind.

Hours had slipped by as Zuko worked through a stack of scrolls, the endless lists and notes blurring together. He hadn’t noticed the night deepening around him, or the subtle creaking of the ship as it rocked gently on the waves, the motion almost lulling him to sleep. He rubbed his eyes, barely registering the passage of time, until a quiet knock broke through the haze of his thoughts.

Zuko looked up, momentarily confused. “Come in,” he called, voice hoarse from fatigue.

The door opened, and in the dim light, a familiar figure stood in the doorway. Zuko blinked, surprised, and then realized it was Sokka. He sat up straighter, blinking a few more times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. Sokka offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his tired eyes.

“Uh… mind if I come in?” Sokka asked softly.

Zuko nodded, gesturing for him to enter, feeling his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Sokka stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He seemed a little hesitant, glancing around before meeting Zuko’s gaze again.

“I couldn’t fall asleep,” Sokka said, his voice low, tinged with a rare vulnerability. He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “The rocking motion… I keep thinking about my ship. The way it went down, the fire, the waves… I can’t shake it. It just keeps coming back.”

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle, looking almost embarrassed. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

Zuko blinked, his focus sharpening as he listened, his heart constricting with the sudden memory of the night he’d heard of Sokka’s shipwreck. The helplessness, the fear, the gut-wrenching feeling of thinking he might have lost Sokka for good. In that moment, he remembered the letters they’d shared, the words between them that had revealed more than either of them dared to say aloud.

Without thinking, he stood up and walked over to Sokka, reaching out and pulling him into a silent embrace. Sokka seemed startled for a moment but then melted into it, resting his forehead against Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko’s hands gently rested on his back, steadying him, offering a quiet comfort he couldn’t put into words.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in the gentle creak of the ship and the faint rhythm of each other’s breaths. Zuko pulled back just enough to meet Sokka’s eyes, the sadness still lingering there, edged with a weariness and a quiet warmth. He felt like he could fall into those eyes, as if they held something unspoken, something precious.

Sokka gave a small, lopsided grin, though his voice was soft. “You’re supposed to be the serious one, Zuko. When did you get so… mushy?”

Zuko smiled, unbothered by the teasing. He didn’t let go, and neither did Sokka.

They stayed like that, sharing a silence that felt deeper than any words they could have spoken, holding each other in the gentle embrace of the rocking ship and the late-night quiet.

As they lingered in the dim light of Zuko’s cabin, Sokka’s hands tightened on his waist, pulling him closer, as if even the few inches between them were too much. There was something different in Sokka’s gaze now, a kind of fierce, insistent warmth that made Zuko’s pulse quicken .

“Well,” he murmured, voice softer than usual, almost as if he were saying it to himself. “Since I’m not the serious one right now, I might end up doing something stupid… something you’ll probably have to stop me from.”

Sokka’s lips curved in a playful smirk, his own tiredness replaced with a glint of mischief. “Who says I’d want to stop you?”

The words seemed to hang in the air, sparking like firelight in the quiet.

That was all Zuko needed. Heart pounding, he reached up and gently cupped Sokka’s face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over Sokka’s cheeks as he searched his eyes, half-expecting to find a flicker of hesitation or doubt. But there was nothing like that—only a steady warmth, an openness that made Zuko’s pulse race.

So, he closed the small distance between them, pressing his lips to Sokka’s in a soft, tentative kiss. He half-expected Sokka to pull away, to laugh it off as another joke. But Sokka didn’t move, his hands resting on Zuko’s waist, drawing him closer, a warmth radiating from his touch that was as steady as the ship’s rocking beneath their feet.

Emboldened, Zuko deepened the kiss, feeling the spark shift into something stronger, something edged with the desire they’d both kept hidden for so long. They moved closer, hands tightening, kisses lingering as if making up for all the times they’d only dreamed of this.

Sokka broke the kiss, just barely, his forehead leaning against Zuko’s, both of them catching their breaths. The shared look between them held a thousand unsaid words, words that no longer needed to be spoken.

“Maybe,” Sokka whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, “we should… move somewhere else?”

Zuko’s lips twitched into a small smile, his hand still cradling Sokka’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin under his fingertips. But he didn’t want to rush this; he wanted to savor every bit of it, to let the reality of it settle in.

“Yes,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “but maybe not too far.” He tightened his hold, neither of them moving, content for the moment to stay as they were—together, finally together, the rest of the night stretching before them.

Sokka’s lips brushed close to Zuko’s ear, and he murmured, voice low , “Do you know how long I’ve waited to kiss you like this?”

Zuko shivered, his breath catching. He could feel Sokka’s fingers tracing the line of his jaw, his thumb brushing across Zuko’s lips in a way that sent a thrill through him. Sokka’s voice softened, though there was a hint of a smile. “And here you are, finally letting me… and I’m supposed to stop now?”

Zuko’s gaze met his, and the weight of all those unsaid things hung in the air between them. “No one’s asking you to stop,” Zuko murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. But he knew Sokka could hear the invitation there, as clearly as if he’d shouted it.

Sokka’s grin turned wicked, his hands drifting lower, pulling Zuko flush against him. “Good. Because stopping isn’t exactly on my mind right now.” His voice dropped to a whisper, almost reverent. “Not when I’ve waited so long for this. You have no idea…”

The rough edge in Sokka’s voice, the longing, hit Zuko harder than he expected, a fierce tugging ache that he couldn’t hold back any longer. All the hours he’d spent yearning over the inked lines of Sokka’s letters, reading between words for what neither of them had dared to say—this was the truth behind every letter, every quiet moment, all of it rushing in with impossible intensity.

Sokka’s lips traced along his jaw, and Zuko’s knees nearly buckled as he felt the other man’s soft breath against his skin. “Kiss me again,” Sokka whispered, his words barely a murmur. “Like you mean it, Firelord.”

That was all Zuko needed to hear. He pulled Sokka close, capturing his lips with a hunger that he’d kept buried for far too long. Sokka’s response was immediate and urgent, his hands moving, claiming Zuko in a way that felt as if he’d been waiting years to finally let go . Their kisses grew more desperate, breathless, each one stoking the fire between them. Sokka was everything Zuko hadn’t dared to imagine, every laugh and shared glance, every letter he’d read over and over—here, finally his.

Zuko’s hands drifted down, finding Sokka’s wrists and guiding him back toward the bed, still close, still feeling the warmth of Sokka’s body against his. Zuko glanced back to make sure the door was closed, then let himself follow, falling completely into this moment, surrendering to the warmth, the intensity, the undeniable pull they had fought for so long.

Sokka chuckled against his lips, his voice a whisper. “You know, I’d follow you anywhere, Firelord.”

Zuko felt his cheeks flush, felt himself come alive under Sokka’s touch. He closed his eyes, leaning into every feeling that surged within him, letting go of his fear, letting himself finally, completely, be loved by the person who had filled his thoughts through every sleepless night and lonely day.

Their lips met again as Zuko lowered Sokka onto the narrow cabin bed, the two of them a tangle of limbs and laughter and hands that couldn’t keep still. The mattress creaked beneath them, its roughness forgotten as Zuko leaned over Sokka, his weight pressing them together in a way that made every nerve in his body come alive.

Zuko’s hands moved down Sokka’s sides, slow and deliberate, yet there was a question in every touch, a silent pause as he looked into Sokka’s eyes, searching for permission. The way Sokka’s hands fisted into his shirt, tugging him closer, told him everything he needed to know.

“You don’t have to be so careful, Firelord,” Sokka whispered, his smirk half-teasing but his eyes soft, inviting. “It’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Zuko felt a grin break through, a rare, almost shy one, and he shook his head, leaning in to kiss Sokka again, softer this time. “I didn’t say you didn’t,” he murmured against Sokka’s lips, his voice hushed , reverent. “But I’m not about to rush through something I’ve been waiting this long for.”

Every touch felt like an answer to a question he’d never dared ask, a culmination of every moment they’d shared but never voiced. Sokka’s breath hitched, his fingers pressing into Zuko’s back, pulling him closer.

“You’re surprisingly… confident,” Sokka murmured between breaths, a teasing glint in his eye. “You’re not as… unpracticed as I thought, Firelord.”

Zuko felt his cheeks flush, his smile widening even as he kept his focus on Sokka, his hands moving to cradle Sokka’s face. “What, did you think I’d be shy about this?” he teased back, pressing his lips just below Sokka’s ear, feeling a thrill as Sokka gasped.

Sokka’s fingers tangled in Zuko’s hair, tugging him closer, his voice low and thick with a laugh that sent a thrill through him. “I don't know. But I guess I underestimated you.”

Zuko looked down at him, his gaze lingering on the face he knew by heart, yet was still somehow discovering anew. The vulnerability there, the unspoken trust, hit him with a force he wasn’t prepared

for. He kissed Sokka deeply, letting it carry all the things he couldn’t say, every feeling that had built up in his chest from all the nights he’d spent wondering what it would be like to have Sokka here, like this.

They moved together with a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing, and yet, somehow, every touch, every laugh, every soft murmur was like a rediscovery. Zuko let himself sink into the sensation, feeling Sokka’s pulse against him, the soft , indelible marks of their shared pasts woven together in this present. He ran his hand down Sokka’s side, relishing the way Sokka shivered under his touch, the warmth in his gaze.

Zuko let his hands trail down Sokka’s torso, slow but steady, savoring the way Sokka’s body responded to every touch. His own heart pounded, and though he wanted to take his time, to drink in every detail, his own control was slipping, the months of suppressed desire catching up to him.

Sokka’s hands found their way to Zuko’s hair, pulling him down again, his grin widening even as his breath quickened. “You know,” he said, voice low and rough, “I didn’t take you for the patient type. Must be a Firelord thing.”

Zuko chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of Sokka’s mouth. “Maybe it’s a you thing,” he murmured, his fingers tracing small circles against Sokka’s hip. “Guess I just needed a reason to wait.”

Sokka let out a soft, breathless laugh, his eyes shining with that same warmth Zuko had felt in every one of his letters.

It made Zuko laugh, his head dipping forward as he pressed his forehead to Sokka’s, unable to hold back the smile that crept across his face. This—Sokka, his steady breath, his warmth—was something Zuko had never dared to hope for, and yet now, here they were, intertwined and inseparable.

And even without words, Zuko knew Sokka felt the same.

As they continued, caught in each other, he felt the rhythm of the waves rocking the ship beneath them, a steady, grounding motion. They were lost, and yet, in each other’s arms, finally found. And Zuko knew he would savor every moment, every kiss, and every soft, unspoken promise they shared in the quiet of that long, tender night.

The morning light seeped through the narrow cabin windows, casting a soft, golden glow over Zuko’s bed, tangled with scattered clothes and silken cushions half-draped over them both . Zuko woke first, his eyes opening to see Sokka’s face, peaceful in sleep, his cheek pressed to the pillow and his arm flung across Zuko’s chest. He took in the sight, his heart full in a way he’d never quite experienced before, his mind slowly piecing together the events of the night before and everything that had led them here.

The gentle rocking of the ship reminded him they were still at sea, alone in this quiet world that was just theirs for now, protected by the constant sway of the waves. Zuko let his fingers gently trace down Sokka’s shoulder, marveling at the softness of the moment, how complete and effortless it felt to have Sokka here beside him, his presence like a balm.

As if on cue, Sokka stirred, his eyes fluttering open, blinking sleepily before they focused on Zuko’s face. His expression shifted from sleepy confusion to a lazy, lopsided grin, and Zuko couldn’t help but smile back.

“Morning,” Sokka mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and warm with contentment.

“Morning,” Zuko replied, his tone softer than usual, almost reverent.

Sokka stretched a bit, his arm slipping from Zuko’s chest, and as he settled again, he turned on his side, his hand finding its way to Zuko’s cheek, thumb brushing gently over his skin. “So,” he began, his tone playful but with a hint of seriousness behind it , “last night… you said something about doing something stupid.”

Zuko chuckled, a slight flush creeping up his neck as he met Sokka’s teasing gaze. “Well,” he said with a smirk, “you didn’t stop me, did you? So… here we are.”

Sokka’s grin only grew, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice lowering in a playful tone. “Guess we both did something stupid, then,” he said, his thumb lightly brushing Zuko’s jaw. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “And... I’m not exactly upset about it.”

Zuko felt a warmth spread through him, and despite the teasing, he could feel the sincerity in Sokka’s words. “Neither am I,” Zuko replied, his voice softer, his fingers lightly brushing through Sokka’s hair as he leaned in close. “I didn’t think I would ever get to feel this way.”

Sokka’s expression softened, his hand finding Zuko’s, fingers threading with his in a comfortable, quiet connection. “Same here,” he said with a soft sigh, his smile returning, though there was a hint of something else in his eyes—something deeper than the playfulness from before.

Sokka stretched out beside him, his playful smirk returning, and Zuko couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly Sokka always seemed to bring lightness into every moment. The teasing energy was familiar now, but this morning, it felt different, softer, like they were on the edge of something they hadn’t fully stepped into yet.

Sokka raised an eyebrow, eyeing the disarray of the bed, the clothes scattered all over the place. His lips quirked into a grin. “So… this your idea of ‘cleaning up’ after a rough night?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

Zuko blinked, unsure for a second how to respond. “I—uh—” he started, his words getting tangled in the warmth of the moment , the lingering energy of last night, still thick between them.

Sokka’s grin deepened, clearly enjoying the fact that Zuko was thrown off for once. “No judgment, Firelord,” Sokka teased, nudging him lightly with his shoulder. “But I’m pretty sure your idea of ‘order’ is just a bit different from mine.”

Zuko let out a quiet laugh, trying to gather himself, but the warmth of the situation kept him off-balance. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

Sokka’s expression softened slightly, a hint of affection slipping through the teasing tone. “Not complaining. Just... noting that you might need a little help getting everything back in place,” he said, his eyes never leaving Zuko’s face, where he could see the faint blush beginning to spread.

Zuko chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll manage,” he replied, but his voice held an edge of something else now. There was a weight to the moment, a quiet intimacy in the way they were looking at each other. The teasing had fallen away, leaving only the connection, the slow and steady rhythm of their breaths in sync.

Sokka let out a soft sigh, stretching out beside him. “Guess I’m not much for ‘order,’ anyway.” His smile never faded, but there was something more there now, something deeper. “As long as it’s with you.”

Zuko’s heart skipped a beat. His pulse quickened, but he tried not to let it show, his eyes catching Sokka’s with a quiet intensity. “Same here,” Zuko said, voice barely above a whisper, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He didn't know what was happening between them—what had happened last night—but it felt like they were moving toward something they both wanted, even if neither of them were quite ready to say it yet.

The ship rocked again, the steady motion soothing, the sound of the waves calming, as the two of them stayed there, side by side, a new kind of understanding passing between them in the quiet.

The ship’s gentle rocking seemed to slow, as if the universe itself had taken a pause, allowing them a moment of peace. But then, suddenly, something snapped Zuko out of his dazed reverie. His eyes widened, and the reality of their situation rushed back in—there were other people on this ship, people who would definitely notice that he and Sokka were in his cabin, in the same bed, together. The guards, the crew—they’d all be able to tell.

His face flushed, and he hurriedly sat up, his mind racing. “Sokka…” he began, his voice strained with the sudden realization. “We—uh—we should get dressed.”

Sokka, who had been lazily lounging beside him, raised an eyebrow at the urgency in Zuko’s tone. “What’s the matter, Firelord?” he asked, a teasing note in his voice. “Afraid someone might think something happened between us?”

Zuko's eyes snapped to Sokka’s with wide, embarrassed shock. “Well... yeah!” he blurted out. “I mean, we did just... well... you know." He made an awkward gesture, as though the act of dressing was the least he could do to salvage the situation.

Sokka snorted, sitting up with an easy grin. “You’re telling me that after everything we’ve been through—you’re worried about a few crew members getting the wrong idea?”

Zuko’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, but he couldn’t help but smile at Sokka’s ease. "I’m serious," he muttered, though his eyes glinted with amusement. "We’re not ready for... that kind of attention.”

Sokka stretched, yawning exaggeratedly. “I’m starting to think you’ve got a little too much Firelord in you after all,” he teased, slipping his tunic on with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Fine, fine. I’ll head back to my cabin before anyone gets curious. Wouldn’t want to start any rumors about the Firelord and his… secret friendship ." He said the last word with a playful wink.

Zuko tried to hold back a smile, but it slipped out anyway. He stood, pulling his tunic over his head quickly, still flustered. “We don’t even know what this is,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as if he could clear his thoughts.

“Well, we might not, but I’m pretty sure everyone else is going to have some theories once they see how you’re looking at me.” Sokka’s voice was soft, but the teasing glint was still there. “But hey, I guess it’s better they talk than us sitting here all day, trying to figure out what just happened.”

Zuko exhaled a nervous laugh, the tension easing a little. “Right. No one else needs to know. At least... not yet.” His eyes met Sokka’s for a moment, the unspoken weight of the night still hanging between them, though no words were needed to understand the depth of what had happened.

Sokka paused, just for a second, looking at Zuko with a gaze that was warm but quietly intense. "I’ll be in my cabin," he said softly, and the words felt like a promise, though no one had said anything definitive. Not yet.

Zuko nodded, his heart thumping harder than it should. “Okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then, with a small smile, he added, “Take care of yourself, Sokka.”

Sokka flashed a quick, genuine grin. “You too, Firelord.”

With that, Sokka slipped out of the cabin, the door softly clicking shut behind him. Zuko stood still for a moment, taking in a shaky breath, his mind still spinning, his chest tight with something he couldn’t quite name yet. He wasn’t ready to put a label on it, not yet. But the moment—the kiss, the feeling of being so close—was undeniable. It was real. And that thought lingered as the sound of Sokka’s footsteps faded down the hall.

Zuko sat back down on his bed, the ship gently rocking beneath him, and he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself, his fingers lingering over the spot where Sokka had been. As complicated as it all felt, one thing was certain: they had just crossed a line, and somehow, it felt like the beginning of something neither of them could have anticipated.

Something that had been waiting in the shadows, just out of reach, and now… now it was here.

Chapter Text

The morning sun was just beginning to stretch across the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the ship’s deck as Zuko stepped out of his cabin, his mind still filled with memories of the night before. The sea breeze greeted him, cool and gentle, carrying with it the smell of salt and the sound of waves lapping softly against the hull. It felt grounding, even refreshing, as it washed over him, stirring the remnants of sleep and the lingering warmth from his cabin into wakefulness.

As he made his way up to the upper deck, he spotted two familiar faces waiting for him near the stern—Ren and Hiroshi, his two most loyal guards, who had been stationed for the entire voyage. They straightened up at his approach, though he caught the glimmer of amusement in their eyes, a look he recognized all too well.

Ren, the younger of the two, grinned, bowing his head with exaggerated respect. “Firelord Zuko,” he greeted, barely holding back a smirk. “I trust your … paperwork was productive?”

Zuko felt a warmth rise in his cheeks but kept his expression carefully neutral, giving Ren a mild glare. “It was, actually,” he replied, his tone pointed. “Very productive.”

Hiroshi, the older guard, chuckled, crossing his arms. “Good to know. Wouldn’t want the… special guest keeping you from your duties.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t completely hide the faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He cast a quick glance at the endless stretch of ocean ahead of them, letting the breeze wash over him again before he turned back to the guards. “You two have an impressive imagination for people who’ve spent the night on duty,” he retorted dryly.

“If you’re so invested, maybe I’ll assign you a few extra scrolls of paperwork when we get back to the palace.”

Ren put a hand over his heart, feigning a look of dramatic offense. “We would never dream of shirking our duties, Firelord. Just… keeping an eye on your, uh, personal guest accommodations.”

Zuko exhaled, running a hand over his face in mock exasperation. He’d known these two long enough to understand their banter was just that, and the teasing was, in some strange way, comforting. “Speaking of duties,” he said, hoping to steer the conversation, “when exactly are we expected back at the palace?”

Hiroshi straightened up, his expression shifting to something more official, though Zuko could still see the faint smile lingering in his eyes. “Not long now, Firelord. A few more hours, and we’ll be docking.”

Zuko nodded, his expression sobering as he thought of the responsibilities awaiting him—the meetings, the briefings, the never-ending stack of issues and petitions. And in the back of his mind, the thought of Sokka leaving loomed just out of reach, a reminder that this voyage, however transformative, would soon come to an end.

As they arrived at the palace, Zuko felt a mix of anticipation and tension settle over him. The ship docked, and the familiar sight of the palace loomed ahead, regal and steadfast against the morning sky. The moment the gangplank was lowered, attendants and guards approached, bowing as they greeted the Firelord. He returned their nods with the usual composure, though his gaze kept straying to Sokka, who was standing beside him, taking in the palace with a curious, slightly overwhelmed expression.

Zuko gestured for Sokka to follow as they stepped off the ship and made their way through the winding corridors. Zuko could feel his pulse quicken, the weight of their night together still fresh in his mind, and he had to remind himself to keep his expression neutral, professional . Sokka, however, seemed as relaxed as ever, strolling casually through the palace halls as if he were on a leisurely tour.

After a few turns, they arrived at a quiet wing with large windows overlooking the palace gardens. Zuko stopped outside one of the doors, turning to Sokka, trying to keep his voice steady. “This is… your room. For the time being, anyway. It should be comfortable, and it’s quiet, so you’ll be able to rest.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a faint smirk. “You mean to tell me that after that amazing welcome back on the ship, I get a whole palace suite to myself? You sure you’re not just trying to get rid of me, Firelord?”

Zuko let out a small laugh, though he felt the warmth rising to his cheeks. “It’s just until we figure out the details of your stay. Get some sleep while you can. I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of… official Water Tribe business for you to handle later.” He kept his tone dry, but his lips curved in a slight smile.

Sokka chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. “Oh, I’ll definitely need my energy for all that ‘official business.’ Wouldn’t want to accidentally make an international incident because I’m too tired to be diplomatic.”

Zuko chuckled, shaking his head. “Just… rest, Sokka. Seriously. I’ll find you later. And try not to cause any trouble.”

Sokka grinned, his expression softening as he looked at Zuko. “No promises there, but I’ll try,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost fond. He hesitated a second longer, then glanced over his shoulder at the room.

“Alright, then. See you later, Zuko.”

Zuko’s heart thumped at the way Sokka said his title, the way his tone seemed to make it sound less like a formality and more like something shared just between them. He nodded, clearing his throat. “Get some sleep,” he repeated, giving Sokka a final, lingering look before turning away.

As Zuko made his way back to the main wing of the palace, he couldn’t help but feel the subtle tug of wanting to stay, to spend a little longer with Sokka. But as he reached the entrance to his office, he was greeted by a stack of scrolls, a pile of messages, and a group of advisors waiting for his return. Duty pulled at him, demanding his attention, and he forced himself to set his focus back on the work in front of him, though thoughts of Sokka lingered just beneath the surface, his presence as constant as his own heartbeat.

The day dragged on, the weight of palace duties feeling heavier than usual, as though each petition and report were designed to test Zuko’s patience. His thoughts kept drifting back to Sokka, to the ease of their time on the ship compared to the stifling formality of the palace. Here, it was like a mask had settled over him again, forcing him into the role of the

Firelord, leaving Zuko—the real him—hidden beneath layers of decorum and duty.

Late in the afternoon, as he finally managed to clear his schedule for a few moments, Zuko decided to check on Sokka, hoping he’d actually rested and wasn’t, as Zuko feared, wandering the palace halls causing chaos.

He found Sokka’s room and knocked lightly, but when there was no response, he let himself in. The room was empty, the bed undisturbed. Zuko’s brows knitted in concern, and he wondered if Sokka had managed to sneak out somehow.

After a few questions to the guards, Zuko learned Sokka had gone to the training courtyard. Of course, Zuko thought, exasperated, but with a small smile.

When Zuko arrived, he spotted Sokka immediately, his figure unmistakable as he practiced with a pair of palace training swords, his movements fluid but somewhat different from the firebending forms Zuko was used to. Sokka had a group of guards around him, watching in amusement as he expertly fended off a few of the younger ones who had volunteered to spar with him. He had them laughing , joking as he deflected each strike, showing them techniques Zuko hadn’t seen before.

For a moment, Zuko stood there, unseen, taking in the scene. Sokka had a way of drawing people in, his confidence and humor disarming everyone around him. Even here, amidst palace guards, he managed to bring a spark of lightness Zuko rarely saw within the palace walls.

Then Sokka looked up and caught sight of him. Their eyes met, and suddenly the air grew taut with something unspoken. Zuko took a breath and walked over, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in his chest as he approached.

“Enjoying yourself, I see?” he asked, his tone light, though he could feel the subtle tension simmering under his words.

Sokka grinned, giving a dramatic bow as he stepped back from the guards. “Just making friends,” he replied with a casual shrug. “Gotta say, your guards could use a little… Water Tribe training.” His grin was playful, but Zuko could see the way his eyes held a seriousness beneath it, as if searching Zuko’s face for something he couldn’t quite name.

“Training, huh?” Zuko crossed his arms, his gaze level. “Is that what you call sneaking out of your room when I specifically told you to rest?”

Sokka laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Hey, rest isn’t just lying in bed all day. Sometimes it’s… being outside, getting some air. Plus,” he added with a smirk , “I don’t do well with orders. Guess I’ve got a bit of a rebellious streak.”

Zuko bit back a smile, keeping his voice firm, though he felt that familiar warmth in his chest. “I noticed.”

The guards around them began to disperse, sensing the subtle tension between the two men and exchanging knowing glances with one another. It left Zuko and Sokka standing alone, facing each other in the quiet training yard. Without the distraction of others, the atmosphere grew heavy, awkward , the weight of everything they hadn’t discussed settling over them like a fog.

Sokka broke the silence first, his voice dropping slightly. “So… what now?”

Zuko hesitated, struggling for words as he looked at Sokka, really looked at him, feeling that pull, that ache that had grown between them on the ship but hadn’t quite found its way into words. “I don’t know,” he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “This—” he gestured vaguely between them, “whatever this is… it’s complicated.”

Sokka’s face softened, the usual humor fading as he looked back at Zuko, an uncertain vulnerability in his gaze. “Yeah. Complicated,” he repeated, his voice subdued. “We’re good at that, aren’t we?”

There was a long, tense pause, neither one of them daring to break the moment, neither one of them wanting to let it go. Zuko’s heart pounded, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t quite grasp. The urge to reach out, to say something honest and open, was there, but the weight of his responsibilities, of the palace and everything he was expected to be, held him back.

In the end , he settled for a quiet, “Maybe… we should keep things simple. For now.”

Sokka’s smile was tight, almost resigned. “Yeah. Simple,” he echoed, though his voice held an edge of disappointment that Zuko could feel as keenly as his own. They lingered a moment longer, their gazes locked, an unspoken understanding hanging between them.

Then, finally, Sokka gave a small, almost forced laugh, stepping back. “Right. I should… go get that rest you were talking about,” he said, his tone light but distant, as if he were putting up a barrier, protecting himself.

Zuko nodded, feeling an ache he couldn’t name as he watched Sokka turn away, leaving him standing alone in the training yard, the silence around him filled with everything they hadn’t dared to say.

The weight of the day’s responsibilities had settled on Zuko’s shoulders as he worked late into the night, but there was something on his mind that carried a rare kind of excitement—something quiet and personal, a task he’d taken on that no one else knew about. He’d been meticulous with the details, making sure everything was set in motion. He wanted this to be perfect, something meaningful for Sokka. His chest tightened with anticipation, his mind spinning with plans and possibilities.

But as the hours slipped by, his thoughts drifted back to Sokka. It was late, almost everyone had retired for the night, and Zuko found himself walking down the silent halls to the room where Sokka was staying. He knocked softly, waiting, but there was no response. He frowned, hesitating, wondering if Sokka was asleep. But something in him—a feeling he couldn’t quite name—compelled him to try again.

He was about to turn away when he heard it. Soft, muffled sobs coming from the other side of the door.

Zuko’s breath caught, a chill washing over him as he listened. He recognized the sound all too well, the quiet agony in it, and his heart ached. Sokka was always the one laughing, always the one putting on a brave face, even in the worst of circumstances. But tonight, that mask had slipped, and Zuko felt the pull, the need to go to him, to be there.

He turned the handle quietly and stepped inside, his gaze landing on Sokka immediately. Sokka was curled up beside the bed, his shoulders shaking, his hands covering his face as he choked back his sobs. The sight tore through Zuko’s chest, each broken whisper escaping Sokka’s lips like a plea.

He paused just inside the doorway, his heart pounding as he watched Sokka, curled up beside the bed, shoulders hunched and face buried in his hands, his whole body trembling with silent, broken cries.

“I couldn’t… I should’ve done more,” Sokka whispered to no one, his words fragile, spoken through a voice that sounded utterly shattered. “They needed me, and I… I wasn’t good enough.”

The weight of Sokka’s words crushed Zuko’s chest, and before he could think, he crossed the room, lowering himself to sit beside him. Gently, he placed a hand on Sokka’s shoulder, hoping the touch would ground him, remind him that he wasn’t alone.

“Sokka…” Zuko’s voice was barely a murmur, soft as the moonlight spilling in through the window. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here.”

Sokka lifted his face, and Zuko’s heart wrenched at the sight—tears streaked down his cheeks, his eyes red and raw with grief. He looked so lost, like he was barely holding himself together, and his eyes held an emptiness that Zuko had never seen before.

“They… they counted on me,” Sokka choked out, his voice a strained whisper. “And I just… watched as they died . One by one. I couldn’t save them. I should’ve been able to save them.”

Zuko shook his head, unable to stop the tears welling in his own eyes as he reached out, pulling Sokka into his arms, holding him close. Sokka’s hands clutched onto him, his grip desperate, as if he were afraid Zuko might vanish, too.

“You did everything you could,” Zuko whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “You gave them hope. You fought for them. That’s more than anyone else would’ve done.”

Sokka buried his face into Zuko’s shoulder, his breath coming in broken, shuddering gasps as he let the grief pour out, let the walls he’d held up for so long come crashing down. “I keep seeing it, Zuko. Over and over. The flames, the water swallowing them… I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve done more.” His voice cracked, the words catching in his throat.

Zuko tightened his arms around him, cradling him as he pressed his hand against the back of Sokka’s head, stroking his hair in slow, soothing motions. “It wasn’t your fault,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “You did everything you could. And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sokka’s breathing remained ragged, but Zuko continued to hold him, running his fingers gently through his hair, letting his other hand rest on Sokka’s back in a quiet, steady reassurance. He felt the tension in Sokka’s body slowly ease, felt his breathing begin to slow as the sobs softened into quiet shudders.

“Shh,” Zuko whispered, his voice soft as he gently rocked him, each word laced with a tenderness he couldn’t hold back. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Just rest, Sokka. I’m right here.”

Sokka’s shudders slowly softened, his breathing evening out, the exhaustion finally overpowering the ache in his chest. Zuko felt the weight of Sokka’s head relax against his shoulder, the tension in his body releasing as he slipped into sleep. Even so, Zuko didn’t let go. He sat with Sokka, holding him as if he could shield him from every painful memory, every cruel flash of guilt that haunted him.

Once he was sure Sokka had fully drifted off, Zuko carefully shifted, slipping his arms around Sokka to lift him up . Sokka stirred, murmuring something incomprehensible in his sleep, and instinctively curled against

Zuko’s chest, his face nestling into the warmth of his neck. The closeness was overwhelming, and Zuko’s heart beat wildly as he carried Sokka over to the bed, cradling him with a gentleness he hadn’t known he possessed.

He laid Sokka down, pulling the blankets up around him, but as he went to pull away, Sokka’s hand clutched at his sleeve, his fingers weak but insistent. Zuko’s heart ached, and he sat back down on the bed, reaching out to brush a stray tear from Sokka’s cheek.

“I’m here,” he whispered, the words more than a promise, an offering. “I’m not going anywhere.”

With a soft sigh, Zuko lay down beside him, slipping under the covers as he settled next to Sokka, who unconsciously moved closer, his fingers still loosely gripping Zuko’s sleeve. Zuko took his hand, his thumb tracing small circles on Sokka’s knuckles, a soothing, rhythmic motion meant to ground them both. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow over them, and Zuko found himself memorizing every shadow and curve of Sokka’s face, feeling an unguarded tenderness he didn’t need to hide.

He hadn’t planned to stay; he’d told himself he’d sit for only a few minutes, just until Sokka was calm, until he was sure the worst of the pain had passed. But with each quiet breath that passed between them, Zuko felt his own walls slipping, his defenses melting under the soft, fragile trust of the moment.

And then, almost without thinking, he let his head rest against the pillow, his arm draped protectively around Sokka. He could feel the warmth of Sokka’s breath against his collarbone, the steady beat of his heart close to his own, and a peace he hadn’t felt in years began to settle over him. He closed his eyes, the scent of salt and earth lingering from Sokka’s skin, and before he knew it, his breathing had matched Sokka’s, each breath a quiet reminder of the unspoken promise they’d shared.

Zuko’s last thought, drifting at the edge of sleep, was that he didn’t care if anyone saw them, didn’t care if his guards or advisors whispered behind his back. All that mattered was here, now, with Sokka safe in his arms. And as the night wore on, he surrendered to the warmth of that quiet understanding, letting sleep claim him, content to stay exactly where he was.

Zuko blinked awake, feeling a weight against his chest and the warmth of another person curled beside him. For a moment, he forgot where he was, the gentle morning light filtering in through the windows casting a hazy glow over everything. But then, he remembered—Sokka.

Sokka was still asleep, his face softened, peaceful in a way that Zuko had rarely seen. He was still nestled close, his head resting on Zuko’s shoulder, one hand loosely gripping the fabric of Zuko’s tunic as if even in sleep he couldn’t bear to let go. The sight made Zuko’s heart ache , the raw tenderness of it almost overwhelming.

But then Zuko noticed the time. The light streaming through the window was growing brighter, signaling that the palace would soon be stirring. His mind flickered to the inevitability of it all—advisors, guards, attendants, and the endless demands of his duties. And somewhere, the knowledge that someone would inevitably knock on Sokka’s door tugged at him, reminding him of how precarious this moment was.

But as he shifted slightly, Sokka’s fingers tightened on his shirt, his face creasing in a soft frown as he murmured, half-asleep. “… don’t go.”

The words were barely audible, but they made Zuko’s heart twist, and he relaxed back against the bed, his hand settling over Sokka’s. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay here, in this fragile, private world where everything seemed so simple, so clear. So he stayed , watching as Sokka slowly blinked his eyes open, squinting in the morning light.

Sokka stared at him for a moment , confusion turning to realization as his gaze sharpened, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “You… you stayed,” he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.

Zuko nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I stayed.”

Sokka let out a small, self-conscious chuckle, his hand slipping from Zuko’s tunic as he sat up slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I wasn’t exactly… subtle last night,” he said, his tone light but tinged with embarrassment.

Zuko sat up as well, keeping close, his expression soft. “You don’t have to apologize, Sokka,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to… hide any of it.”

Sokka’s eyes met his, and for a moment, Zuko saw the raw vulnerability that had broken through the night before. But then, true to form, Sokka quickly masked it, flashing a small grin. “Well, guess you got the full Water Tribe emotional display,” he joked, though there was a hint of lingering sadness in his voice.

Zuko reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder , grounding him. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Sokka’s gaze softened, and he gave a small nod, the humor slipping away as he looked down, as if gathering his thoughts. “It’s just… I don’t let people see me like that,” he murmured. “I’m supposed to be the one who holds everyone together. The one who makes them laugh, who keeps things steady.” He glanced back at Zuko, his eyes sincere, open. “But I don’t have to with you, do I?”

“No,” Zuko replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t. Not ever.”

They shared a quiet look, and for a moment, words felt unnecessary, the understanding between them solidifying, unspoken but undeniable. But then, as if on cue, a knock sounded from the other side of the door, and Zuko’s heart jolted, reality creeping back in.

Sokka stifled a laugh, glancing at the door with a raised eyebrow. “Guess we’re back to palace life.”

Zuko sighed, casting one last, regretful look at him. “Right. But… we’ll talk later. If you want.”

Sokka’s smile softened, genuine, and he nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Zuko stood, heading for the door, but before he opened it, he glanced back at Sokka, his heart full in a way he hadn’t expected. And as he stepped into the hallway, he could still feel the warmth of Sokka’s presence lingering beside him, a quiet reminder that, no matter what the day held, they weren’t alone.

Chapter Text

As Zuko moved through the quiet corridors, he was acutely aware of the murmur that seemed to follow him, subtle but unmistakable—a new buzz among the palace staff, speculation taking root as easily as weeds. But it was his own thoughts that crowded in louder, relentless, as he walked. His steps echoed softly , steady , yet his heart raced, tangled in questions and a feeling he hadn’t fully let himself name.

Love.

The word reverberated in his mind, like an old story he’d been told but never understood. Is that what this is? This pull, this ache, this fear of losing him? It was a feeling that he’d never had, that he’d been told wasn’t meant for him. He was supposed to serve, to lead, to protect his people. Love was something fragile, something… personal. It was rare. Dangerous, even.

But no matter how he tried to push it aside, it wouldn’t leave him. Zuko took a breath, stopping in his tracks as his mind spiraled with conflicting thoughts. “We’re born to serve this kingdom, to carry the weight alone,” the voices of his advisors and the past seemed to echo, a reminder of the laws and rules that had become like a second skin. Love is not our duty; duty is not love.

But another part of him fought back, questioning that old creed. He remembered the warmth he’d felt holding Sokka close last night, the peace of watching him drift to sleep, knowing he was safe. It wasn’t his duty that had kept him there. And it wasn’t duty that had pushed him to search, to give, to hope for something more than just survival.

So maybe it’s love, he thought, the words slipping through with a hint of defiance. And maybe… maybe that was enough.

He felt the pull of reality, his responsibilities threatening to snatch him back from this fragile thought, when the sound of footsteps brought him back to the present.

“Firelord Zuko,” one of his guards said, bowing respectfully as he stopped before him. Zuko nodded, trying to smooth the turmoil within him.

“Your special order has arrived, my lord,” the guard said, his tone carefully neutral, though Zuko sensed a flicker of curiosity there. “It’s waiting for you in the docks.”

The words struck him, and he felt a surge of anticipation. The gift he’d prepared for Sokka, a small offering of gratitude and hope after everything he’d endured. For a moment, the weight of the morning lifted, and he felt himself soften, a faint smile playing at his lips.

“Thank you,” Zuko said, his voice a little steadier. “I’ll go see it shortly.”

As the guard departed, Zuko stood alone in the empty corridor. The fear, the doubt—they lingered, haunting him like shadows. What if his gift wasn’t enough? What if everything he had to give could still be lost, leaving only memories? And yet, for the first time, he let himself consider something daring: that maybe, despite the uncertainty, he could believe in this—believe in something more than just duty, more than just sacrifice.

He took another breath, looking toward the doors ahead, and with a quiet resolve, he set off toward the docks, feeling as if he were stepping into something that was his, something he could finally choose for himself.

Zuko found Sokka sitting on a stone bench in the garden, idly running a blade of grass between his fingers as he watched a couple of turtle-ducks floating in the pond nearby. He looked peaceful, though there was a restlessness in his gaze, a searching quality that Zuko recognized.

Maybe it was something he had sensed in himself lately, too.

Sokka looked up as Zuko approached, giving him a crooked smile. “Hey, Zuko. Out for a stroll?”

Zuko chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Actually… I was hoping you might take a walk with me.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow, his eyes lighting with curiosity as he rose to his feet. “Lead the way, then. I could use a break from, you know…” He gestured around him. “Meditative gardens. You’d think after months on a ship, I’d be all about this quiet serenity, but it’s a little too calm, if you ask me.”

Zuko smirked, nodding as they began to walk along the garden’s winding path. “Well, I have something a little less… serene in mind.”

“So,” Sokka said finally, breaking the silence, “are you planning to show me your whole ‘Garden of Eternal Peace’ or something? Not that I mind. But I feel like there’s more to this than a tour.”

Zuko suppressed a smile. “Maybe. Just … wait and see.”

They walked a little further, the path sloping gently down toward the docks where the ships bobbed quietly in the harbor.

When they reached the edge, Sokka stopped short, his gaze locking onto a ship anchored just before them.

Zuko’s heart quickened as he watched Sokka take it in, and he could tell the moment Sokka realized what he was looking at.

The ship was elegant but strong, its wood polished to a deep, rich color that shone in the morning light. The sails were a brilliant white, embossed subtly with Water Tribe patterns along the edges, and the hull had been carved with symbols of both Fire Nation and Water Tribe heritage, blending the two together in harmony. Every detail had been carefully crafted, from the sleek lines of the deck to the sturdy mast, designed to withstand whatever journey it was set upon.

Sokka took a step closer, his eyes wide with awe. “Zuko…” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… it’s beautiful. It looks almost like…”

“Your old ship,” Zuko finished softly, watching the way Sokka’s gaze softened as he took in each detail. “I thought you might like it to look… familiar.”

Zuko watched him, his heart swelling as he took in Sokka’s reaction, the quiet awe in his voice. He stepped closer, hesitating only a moment before reaching out and taking both of Sokka’s hands in his.

“Sokka,” he said softly, looking into his eyes, “this ship… it’s yours.”

Sokka blinked, his expression shifting from wonder to a kind of disbelief. “Mine?” he asked, voice caught between amazement and something else, something deeper.

Zuko nodded, his thumbs gently brushing over Sokka’s hands. “Yes. I wanted… I wanted you to have it.” He hesitated, his gaze steady as he searched Sokka’s face. “I know how much you lost when your ship was destroyed, how important that was to you. And… I wanted you to know that you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. You can go anywhere. You can… be anywhere.” His voice was quiet, almost shy, as he added, “Wherever you want to go, this ship is yours to take you there.”

Sokka’s expression was a mix of emotions—gratitude, surprise, and something unreadable. He stared at Zuko, his mouth opening as if to speak, then closing again as he struggled to find the words. His hands tightened around Zuko’s, grounding himself.

“Zuko, I…” He trailed off, shaking his head slowly as he looked back at the ship. “I don’t know what to say. This is… more than I could have ever asked for.” He looked back at Zuko, a soft smile on his lips, his voice unsteady. “But… do you really want me to just… go?”

Zuko’s breath caught, and he felt his pulse quicken. “Only if… if that’s what you want,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Zuko’s breath hitched, a strange mixture of hope and fear knotting in his chest as he tried to read Sokka’s expression. But Sokka’s face was an unreadable map of emotions—fascination, gratitude, hesitation—all of it swirling together in a way that made it impossible for Zuko to guess what he was thinking.

Sokka’s eyes drifted back to the ship, taking in every detail, his hand still resting in Zuko’s. He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful, almost lost.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft.

“You know… I always thought freedom was what I wanted. Being out there, on the open sea, going wherever I wanted, doing whatever I wanted.”

He smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes as he looked back at Zuko. “I never thought I’d want anything else.”

Zuko felt his heart pounding, desperate to ask, to say anything to convince him to stay. But he forced himself to stay silent, the words he wanted to say caught in his throat, tangled with the fear of pushing Sokka away. If he stays, Zuko thought, I want it to be because he chose it. Not because he felt he owed me.

Sokka looked down at their intertwined hands, his thumb brushing over Zuko’s knuckles in a gesture so gentle it made Zuko’s chest tighten. But he didn’t say anything more; he only looked at Zuko, a question lingering in his gaze, something unspoken yet deeply felt. It was as if he was looking for an answer Zuko couldn’t give him—one that neither of them had found yet.

Zuko wanted to say it, wanted to tell him that he wanted him to stay, that this wasn’t just a gift, it was a wish, a hope that Sokka might choose him, choose them. But instead, he swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s yours, Sokka. The ship. You can take it, go anywhere you want… be anywhere you want .” The words ached as they left his lips, because all he wanted was to say, Stay here. Be here . With me.

Sokka looked up at him, his face open, vulnerable. He gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

“Thank you, Zuko. This is… more than I could’ve imagined.”

Zuko offered a faint smile, but his heart felt heavy, caught between hope and the ache of uncertainty. “Take all the time you need to decide. I just… I wanted you to know that whatever you choose, it’s yours.”

Sokka’s gaze softened, and for a moment, Zuko thought he saw something there—a glimmer of a decision, an answer. But Sokka only gave his hand a gentle squeeze and looked back at the ship, his thoughts distant.

They stood there in silence, the sounds of the harbor around them fading into the background as Zuko watched him, wanting more than anything to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling. But he didn’t ask, couldn’t bring himself to break the fragile quiet between them. Instead, he simply stood beside Sokka, letting him hold that moment , that choice, waiting in the quiet hope that , maybe , Sokka would come back to him.

For now, though, Zuko didn’t know. And that, somehow, was the hardest part.

Just as Zuko found himself holding his breath, the warmth of Sokka’s hand grounding him in the uncertain air between them, he heard hurried footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Ren and Hiroshi, his two most trusted guards, rushing toward them, their expressions urgent.

Startled, Zuko released Sokka’s hand, his heart sinking at the abrupt interruption. Ren and Hiroshi slowed as they approached, each casting a quick, curious glance between him and Sokka, though they said nothing. They were all business.

“Firelord Zuko,” Ren said, a hint of apology in his voice, “you’re needed in the council chamber. It’s urgent—several ministers are demanding to speak with you.”

“Forgive us for interrupting, my lord,” Hiroshi added, giving a quick bow, though there was a glint in his eye that suggested he’d seen more than Zuko would have liked.

Zuko forced himself to nod, slipping his guard back into place. He looked at Sokka, feeling the weight of everything that had just been left unspoken, words lingering between them that now had to wait. “I have to… deal with this,” he said, his tone more clipped than he’d intended. “But if you want… you can take a look inside the ship. Explore it while I’m gone.”

Sokka blinked, visibly caught off guard. He hesitated, his expression a blend of surprise and something unreadable, before he gave a small nod. “Sure, sure,” he replied, though his voice was a little too quick, his tone a touch too light. “I mean, wouldn’t want to miss out on getting the full royal tour, right?” He offered a grin, but Zuko could see the hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

Zuko’s chest tightened. He knew Sokka well enough by now to see that the humor was a mask, a way of deflecting whatever he was feeling. He wanted to say something, to reassure him, but Ren’s urgent gaze reminded him of his duty. For now, all he could do was nod. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Sokka’s smile softened, though his eyes lingered on Zuko, as if he were searching for something. “Yeah. I’ll just… be here. Maybe I’ll even let you know how well the ship’s captain quarters live up to Water Tribe standards.”

Zuko allowed himself a faint smile, though his mind was already tugging back to the pressing matters waiting in the council chamber. He gave Sokka one last, lingering look, silently hoping that their conversation could resume once this was all dealt with.

As he followed his guards back up the path, Zuko stole a glance over his shoulder to see Sokka still standing by the ship, watching him go. For a moment, their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them—a quiet understanding that, though everything else could pull them apart, this was only the beginning of what they had yet to say.

Zuko sat in his office, the evening light casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. The scrolls before him blurred into meaningless lines as his thoughts strayed, drifting back to Sokka’s uncertain smile and the way he had looked at the ship earlier. He could still feel the warmth of Sokka’s hand in his, the weight of everything they hadn’t said pressing heavily against his chest.

The soft knock on the door startled him, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. He straightened, masking the turmoil inside him as he called, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and there stood Sokka, leaning against the frame with that same casual air he always carried. But his eyes—blue and shadowed with something deeper—gave him away.

“Hey, Firelord,” Sokka said lightly, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. “You busy?”

Zuko shook his head, gesturing for him to enter. “No. What is it?”

Sokka stepped inside, closing the door behind him, but he didn’t sit. Instead, he stood a few paces away, his hand fidgeting at his side, his gaze flickering to the floor and then back to Zuko.

“I, uh… I’ve been thinking,” Sokka started, his tone unusually subdued. He rubbed the back of his neck, his jaw tightening for a moment before he met Zuko’s gaze. “I’ve decided… I’m leaving tomorrow morning. To sail away for a while. Just … to figure things out.”

The words hit Zuko like a blow, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he nodded slowly, his face carefully blank, though his heart felt like it had been wrenched from his chest. “Tomorrow morning,” he repeated softly, as if testing the words, as if hoping they wouldn’t feel so final when spoken aloud.

“Yeah,” Sokka said, his voice quieter now. “It feels like… the right choice.” But as he said it, his eyes betrayed him, flickering with uncertainty, with hesitation. Zuko saw it, the unspoken doubt, and it only deepened the ache inside him.

Zuko leaned back slightly, his hands curling into fists beneath the desk where Sokka couldn’t see. He could feel the battle raging within him, the desperate urge to ask Sokka to stay, to tell him he didn’t have to leave, that he didn’t want him to leave. But then there was the other part of him, the part that whispered that Sokka deserved to make his own choice, even if it meant leaving.

He swallowed hard, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. “If… you’re sure, I’ll make sure everything is prepared for you. Supplies, crew, whatever you need—it’ll be ready.”

Sokka’s lips twitched into a small, grateful smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks, Zuko. I mean it.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Zuko searched Sokka’s face, looking for something, anything to tell him that this wasn’t what he really wanted. But Sokka’s expression was a carefully balanced mask of determination, though Zuko could see the sadness lurking just beneath it.

Finally, Zuko couldn’t hold it in any longer. His voice softened, the weight of his unspoken feelings pressing against his words. “Are you sure tomorrow morning is the right time? You don’t have to rush this, Sokka. You can… take your time.”

Sokka hesitated, his fingers tightening into fists at his sides. For a moment, Zuko thought he might say something else, something that would stop this spiral. But Sokka only nodded, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s the right time.”

Zuko nodded in return, though it felt like the act of it shattered something inside him. He forced himself to keep his voice even, though it trembled at the edges. “Alright. Then tomorrow it is. If you need anything before then… you just have to ask.”

Sokka smiled again, a brief flicker of warmth that couldn’t mask the sadness in his eyes. “You’ve already done more than enough, Firelord.”

Hearing that title on Sokka’s lips now, after all they’d been through, felt like a knife twisting in Zuko’s chest.

He wanted to say something, wanted to reach out, to tell him

Don’t go. Stay. Stay here, with me.

But the words refused to come, tangled in his fear and the weight of his responsibilities.

Instead, he watched as Sokka turned, pausing briefly at the door before he glanced back. “Goodnight, Zuko,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of finality that made Zuko’s heart clench.

“Goodnight, Sokka,” Zuko replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Zuko leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as he tried to steady himself. The silence of the room pressed in around him, and for the first time in years, he felt truly helpless.

Let him go, a voice in his mind whispered. If he wants to leave, let him.

But another voice, quieter and far more painful, spoke against it. What if he’s leaving because you didn’t ask him to stay?

Zuko exhaled shakily, his thoughts a tangle of longing and regret. The choice wasn’t his to make, and yet, as the night stretched on, the ache of everything left unsaid felt unbearable.

Chapter Text

The dawn crept in quietly, its light pale and thin against the heavy weight in Zuko’s chest. He hadn’t slept. His desk was cluttered with scrolls and letters, but only one thing truly held his attention—the pile of correspondence he and Sokka had exchanged, now worn from his hands running over the parchment again and again .

The letters were scattered before him, their words imprinted in his memory. Each one was a piece of something real, something alive, that he and Sokka had built together. As Zuko read them, the ache in his chest grew sharper. Was this all for nothing? The thought gnawed at him, relentless. The night they’d spent together on the ship, the soft moments they’d shared, the trust that had grown between them—had it all been leading to this? Sokka leaving, a ship on the horizon, taking all of it with him?

Zuko let out a slow, shuddering breath, his gaze falling on one letter in particular . His letter. The one he’d written to Sokka, the one that never reached him. He unfolded it carefully, the words scrawled in his own hand hitting him harder now than when he’d written them.

"Because the truth is, Sokka, I can’t sleep some nights without wondering if you’re out there thinking of me too. You’re not just a friend, or someone I hope stays safe. You’re… you’re everything."

The words stared back at him, raw and exposed. He hadn’t planned to write them, hadn’t even been sure he could send them. But now, as he sat in the dim quiet of his room, he realized there was no point in holding back. Sokka deserved to know. Even if it changed nothing, even if Sokka still left, Zuko couldn’t let him go without knowing the truth.

He folded the letter with deliberate care, his fingers lingering on the edges. This is it, he thought, his chest tightening. This is all I have left to give.

Rising from his chair, Zuko tucked the letter into his robe and made his way to the door. The palace was still quiet, the early morning light casting long shadows in the halls. Every step felt heavier than the last, as though the weight of his decision were trying to drag him back, but he kept moving.

When he reached the courtyard, the sight of Sokka hit him like a blow. He was standing near the ship, the one Zuko had given him, speaking softly with a few crew members who were busy preparing it for departure. The sight of him, so close yet already beginning to feel like a memory, made Zuko’s resolve tremble.

But he couldn’t falter. Not now.

He approached, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried, and when Sokka noticed him, he offered a small smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Zuko,” Sokka said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth, though it was tinged with something else—something heavier. “Didn’t think I’d see you this early. You’re usually buried under paperwork by now.”

Zuko gave a faint smile, though it didn’t feel right. “I wanted to see you before you left.”

Sokka’s grin faltered, and for a moment, he looked away, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “Yeah, well… figured I’d set out before everyone here starts trying to convince me to join some fancy royal committee or something.” His voice was light, but Zuko could hear the edge of uncertainty beneath it.

“I’m not here to convince you of anything,” Zuko said softly.

Sokka’s gaze snapped back to him, startled, and Zuko hesitated for just a moment before pulling the folded letter from his robe. “But there’s something you should have.”

Sokka looked at the letter, then back at Zuko, his expression unreadable. He took it carefully, his fingers brushing against Zuko’s, sending a faint jolt through him.

“What is it?” Sokka asked, his voice quiet now.

“It’s… something I wrote for you,” Zuko said, his throat tightening around the words. “A while ago. It never made it to you.”

Sokka stared at the letter for a long moment, his thumb running along its edge. His shoulders shifted slightly, the tension in him visible even as he tried to keep his composure.

Zuko cleared his throat, forcing himself to continue. “You don’t have to read it now. I just… I needed you to have it.”

Sokka nodded, his gaze still fixed on the letter. When he finally looked up, his eyes were softer, but there was a sadness there , a hesitation that Zuko couldn’t quite decipher.

“Thanks, Zuko,” Sokka said, his voice low.

Zuko nodded, taking a step back even as every instinct in him screamed to say more, to do something, anything, to stop this moment from slipping away. But instead, he turned, leaving Sokka with the letter and the choice that lay within it.

Zuko had barely taken a few steps away when something inside him snapped, a tidal wave of emotion surging to the surface. He stopped in his tracks, his fists clenching as he struggled to steady his breath. But there was no steadying this, no logic that could suppress the ache clawing at his chest.

Before he could think better of it, he turned back, his steps hurried and purposeful as he closed the distance between them. Sokka looked up, startled, the letter still clutched in his hand.

“Zuko, what—”

Zuko didn’t let him finish. He reached out, grabbing Sokka by the front of his tunic and pulling him close, his lips crashing against Sokka’s with a desperate, unrestrained fervor. It wasn’t calculated or careful—it was raw, driven by everything he’d been too afraid to admit, too afraid to let himself feel.

For a moment, the world fell away, the noise of the docks fading into nothing. Sokka didn’t pull back. He didn’t protest. Instead, his hands found Zuko’s shoulders, gripping tightly, pulling him closer as he kissed him back with just as much urgency.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing hard, Zuko rested his forehead against Sokka’s, his eyes shut tight as if the moment would shatter if he opened them.

“I can’t do this,” Zuko said, his voice trembling. He opened his eyes, meeting Sokka’s, and the depth of emotion there made his chest tighten.

“I can’t let you go, Sokka. I know it’s selfish, and I know it’s not fair, but I don’t want you to leave.”

Sokka’s mouth opened slightly, but Zuko shook his head, pressing on before he could speak.

“I’ve been trying so hard to keep my distance, to let you have the space to make your own choices. I told myself it was the right thing to do, that it’s what you deserve. But every time I think about you sailing away, every time I think about you not being here…” He swallowed hard, his voice breaking. “I feel like I can’t breathe.”

He stepped back just enough to look into Sokka’s eyes, his hands still gripping the sides of his tunic as if letting go was not an option. “You mean everything to me. Everything. And I’ve been too afraid to say it because I thought it would be better for you if I didn’t. But now, I can’t—I won’t —let you think that I’m okay with you leaving.”

Zuko’s voice dropped, his words growing softer, more vulnerable. “I’ve spent so much of my life being afraid of what I can’t control, of losing the people I care about. And you… you’re the one person who makes me feel like it’s okay to want something for myself. To want you. ”

He took a shaky breath, his gaze unwavering, filled with raw honesty. “I don’t know what this is supposed to look like. I don’t know if I’m even good enough for you. But I do know that I want to try. I want to be with you, and I don’t want to waste another second pretending that I don’t.”

His hands tightened, his grip steady even though his voice wavered. “I love you, Sokka. I’ve loved you for longer than I’ve been willing to admit, and if you leave now, I don’t know what I’ll do. So, please… please don’t go.”

Zuko’s chest felt like it was going to cave in as the last of his words hung between them, heavy and raw. Sokka just stared at him, his blue eyes wide, as if he were trying to process everything Zuko had just poured out.

For a moment, Zuko thought he’d made a terrible mistake, that he’d misread everything, and the fear of rejection started clawing at him.

Then, Sokka laughed.

It wasn’t a cruel laugh—it wasn’t even close to that. It was soft, almost incredulous, and laced with something Zuko couldn’t quite place. Sokka shook his head, his grin spreading across his face, though his eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion.

“Spirits, Zuko,” Sokka said, his voice somewhere between exasperation and fondness. “You’re so smart… and yet sometimes, you’re so incredibly stupid .”

Zuko blinked, startled, unsure how to respond. “What?” he managed, his voice cracking slightly.

Sokka let out a breath , rubbing the back of his neck, his grin softening into something warmer. “I’ve been dropping hints for months, you know. Like, obvious ones. Talking about how I thought freedom was all I ever wanted, but how maybe it wasn’t. About how being out there wasn’t what

I thought it would be. And you… you were just sitting here, being all noble and Firelord-y, letting me wrestle with it all alone.”

Zuko felt his cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and confusion tightening in his chest. “I thought… I thought you wanted to leave,” he said quietly. “That you needed to. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

Sokka’s expression softened further, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to rest on Zuko’s chest. “Zuko,” he said, his voice steady, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of Zuko’s tunic. “I didn’t want freedom. Not really. What I wanted… what I was waiting for… was for you to say, ‘Don’t go.’”

Zuko’s breath hitched, his heart thundering in his chest. “Sokka…”

Sokka smiled faintly, though his voice trembled as he continued.

“When I first started writing you from the sea, I hoped— I hoped, Zuko—that you’d write back and tell me to come back. Or to come to you. That you’d say something— anything —to tell me you felt the same way I did.”

Zuko’s hands hovered uncertainly, but Sokka caught them, lacing their fingers together, grounding them both.

“I didn’t know what I was looking for out there,” Sokka admitted, his voice softer now, raw. “But I kept writing, and waiting, because I was hoping— hoping so hard —that you’d be the answer. That you’d tell me what I couldn’t say myself. And you just… you let me keep wandering, Zuko, when the truth is, the one thing I’ve been searching for this whole time…”

He paused, his eyes locking onto Zuko’s, his voice breaking with emotion. “…was you.”

Zuko’s breath left him in a rush, his heart clenching at the sheer weight of Sokka’s words.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Sokka said firmly, his fingers tightening around Zuko’s.

“I’ve been running for so long, I didn’t think I could stop. But you— you’re the harbor, Zuko. You’re the place I want to stay.”

Zuko’s throat felt tight, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. Sokka’s gaze didn’t waver, steady and full of a warmth that threatened to undo him entirely.

“So yeah,” Sokka added, his grin returning, though his voice was thick with emotion. “You’re smart, Zuko. But sometimes, you’re just so stupid.”

Zuko let out a soft laugh, his hands tightening around Sokka’s, a warmth spreading through him that chased away every lingering shadow of doubt. “I think… I needed to hear you say that.”

“Good,” Sokka said, his grin widening even as his eyes glistened.

“Because I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you’re coming with me.”

Sokka’s grin softened as he stepped even closer, so close now that Zuko could feel the warmth radiating from him. His hands still held Zuko’s, their fingers intertwined, and for a moment, all Sokka did was look at him, like he was memorizing every detail of his face.

Then, Sokka spoke, his voice low but steady, the words carrying the weight of everything they had been holding back.

“I love you, Zuko.”

Zuko’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He had imagined hearing those words, but nothing could have prepared him for the way they sounded—soft, certain, unshakable.

Sokka smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of Zuko’s hand. “I think I’ve loved you for longer than I’ve been willing to admit, even to myself.

Maybe since I realized how much I looked forward to your letters, how they made everything out there feel a little less lonely. Or maybe it was when I finally saw that even when you were chasing us all over the world , you weren’t the enemy I thought you were.”

Zuko’s throat tightened, his heart pounding so loud he was sure Sokka could hear it.

“I don’t know when it happened,” Sokka continued, his voice trembling slightly, “but somewhere along the way, you stopped being the Firelord, or the guy who used to shoot fire at me, or even just the person who kept me grounded when I was spiraling. You became… everything.”

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re my everything, Zuko. My safe place. My sanity. And I don’t care how cheesy that sounds, because it’s true. It’s always been true.”

Zuko couldn’t speak. His chest ached with the sheer force of what he felt, and his hands tightened around Sokka’s as if to keep him from disappearing.

“And just so we’re clear,” Sokka added, his grin turning playful despite the tears threatening to spill, “you don’t get to tell me to go anywhere, ever again. Because I’m not leaving, Zuko. Not now. Not ever.”

Zuko’s voice finally returned, though it was barely a whisper. “Sokka…”

Sokka tilted his head, his grin softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. “Say something, Firelord. You’re starting to make me think I messed this up.”

Zuko shook his head, a soft, breathless laugh escaping him as he let go of one of Sokka’s hands to cup his face, his thumb brushing against Sokka’s cheek. “You didn’t mess anything up,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “You… you just made everything make sense.”

Sokka’s smile widened, and he leaned into Zuko’s touch, his eyes shining with affection . “Good,” he said softly, his tone filled with warmth. “Because I wasn’t sure how much more obvious I could be before you finally figured it out.”

Zuko let out another quiet laugh, pulling Sokka closer until their foreheads touched. “I love you too,” he whispered, the words spilling out like a quiet , unbreakable promise.

Zuko had barely begun to catch his breath, the weight of everything they had just confessed still settling in his chest, when Sokka’s lips curled into that signature mischievous grin. It was the kind of grin that usually spelled trouble, and yet Zuko couldn’t help but feel warmth flood through him at the sight.

“So, Firelord,” Sokka began, stepping back just enough to cross his arms and raise an eyebrow. “Did you actually take a good look at the inside of this ship you so graciously gifted me?”

Zuko blinked, startled by the sudden shift in tone. “What? No. I haven’t had time.”

Sokka gasped dramatically, his hand flying to his chest as if Zuko had gravely insulted him. “You mean to tell me you went through all the trouble of having this ship built , and you haven’t even seen the inside? The nerve, Zuko.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. “I was a little busy trying to convince you not to leave,” he said dryly.

“Well,” Sokka said, his grin widening, “since you so kindly convinced me to stick around, I think it’s only fair you get the grand tour. C’mon .”

Without waiting for a response, Sokka grabbed Zuko’s hand and tugged him toward the gangplank. Zuko let himself be pulled along, a soft chuckle escaping him despite himself.

The ship was as beautiful inside as it was outside. The polished wood gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and every detail spoke of craftsmanship and care. But Zuko barely had time to take it all in before Sokka turned to him, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Pretty nice, huh?” Sokka said, leaning casually against the doorway to the main corridor.

“It is,” Zuko admitted, his gaze flicking briefly to the elegant details before returning to Sokka.

“Wanna see the captain’s quarters?” Sokka asked, his tone light, but the glint in his eyes hinted at something more.

Zuko raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Why do I feel like this isn’t just about showing me the furniture?”

Sokka’s grin turned wicked. “You catch on quick, Firelord.”

Before Zuko could reply, Sokka darted past him, laughing as he disappeared down the corridor. Zuko stared after him for a moment, incredulous, before a smirk of his own crept onto his face. “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?”

He didn’t hesitate, following the sound of Sokka’s footsteps and laughter as it echoed through the ship. He caught glimpses of him turning corners, his hair catching the light, his voice teasing as he called back, “You’re gonna have to move faster than that, Zuko!”

Zuko’s pulse raced, a mix of exhilaration and amusement spurring him on.

“Sokka, you’re impossible!”

“That’s why you love me!” Sokka called back, his voice full of laughter.

The chase led them through the galley and the lower decks, the two of them dodging around furniture and slipping through narrow doorways, laughter mingling with the sound of their footsteps. Zuko finally caught up to Sokka near the stairs leading to the captain’s quarters, grabbing his wrist and spinning him around.

“You can’t run forever,” Zuko said, his voice low and breathless, his eyes locking onto Sokka’s.

“Who said I wanted to?” Sokka replied, his voice softer now, his grin fading into something warmer, more inviting.

Zuko’s hand slipped from Sokka’s wrist to his waist, pulling him close. Their laughter melted away, replaced by a quiet, shared intensity. Sokka’s hands slid up to Zuko’s shoulders, his touch grounding and electric all at once.

“I thought you wanted to see the captain’s quarters,” Sokka murmured, his voice teasing but tinged with a deeper emotion.

“Show me,” Zuko whispered, his gaze flicking to Sokka’s lips.

Sokka led him the rest of the way up the stairs, their steps slowing as they reached the cabin. He pushed the door open, revealing a spacious room bathed in warm light, a large, inviting bed at its center.

But Zuko barely noticed the room. His attention was entirely on Sokka, who turned to him with a look that made Zuko’s breath catch .

Sokka reached up, cupping Zuko’s face in his hands. “I waited so long for this,” he said softly, his voice carrying a vulnerability that cut straight through Zuko.

Zuko leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was unhurried and deep, a culmination of every unsaid word, every longing glance, every moment of yearning. Sokka’s hands slipped into Zuko’s hair, pulling him closer, and

Zuko let himself fall into the warmth, into the connection they’d both been craving.

They moved together, the world outside fading away as they kissed with a passion that had been building for far too long. Zuko’s hands slid down Sokka’s sides, steady and deliberate, and Sokka let out a soft laugh, his voice breathless.

“You’re not holding back anymore, are you?” Sokka teased, his grin breaking through even as he pulled Zuko back in for another kiss.

“Not even a little,” Zuko replied, his voice low and filled with conviction.

Their kisses deepened, growing more urgent as they tumbled onto the bed, their laughter and soft gasps mingling in the quiet of the cabin .

Hands roamed, exploring and learning, every touch a promise, every kiss a declaration of everything they hadn’t been able to say until now.

For the first time, they were free—free to love, free to want, free to just be.

And as they fell into each other, the ship swaying gently beneath them, it felt like the start of something they would never let go.

The royal palace was alive with the hum of celebration, golden lights casting warm glows over the vast halls. The party was a gathering of friends, allies, and dignitaries—a celebration of unity and progress in the new world they were all building together.

Among the guests, familiar faces lit up the room. Katara, resplendent in a blue Water Tribe gown, stood near the banquet table, talking animatedly with Aang, who looked equally radiant in his airbender robes, his ever-present smile even brighter tonight. Toph leaned casually against a pillar, her hair in an unusually neat braid, though she still wore her Earth Kingdom colors with a casual disregard for formality. And near the edge of the room, Iroh was laughing heartily with a small group of guests, a cup of tea in his hand, his delight contagious.

Zuko and Sokka stood at the top of the grand staircase, the noise of the crowd below muffled as they lingered in the brief privacy of the balcony overlooking the hall. Zuko’s fingers brushed against Sokka’s, a soft, grounding touch, and Sokka looked at him, his eyes shining with a mixture of mischief and emotion.

“You sure about this?” Sokka teased, though his voice was soft, his gaze steady.

Zuko gave him a faint smile, his golden eyes warm. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Sokka chuckled, squeezing Zuko’s hand. “Well, when you put it that way, Firelord.”

They descended the staircase together, their steps measured, their hearts pounding in tandem. The hum of the crowd quieted as people noticed them, the subtle shift of attention turning toward the pair.

Zuko stopped at the center of the room, glancing around at the people who had become their family, their friends. Sokka stood beside him, his hand brushing Zuko’s briefly before he stepped forward, the grin that had charmed and exasperated them all still firmly in place.

“So,” Sokka began, his voice carrying easily over the now-silent crowd, “I know this is a royal party and all, and usually that means speeches about alliances and taxes and other boring stuff. But tonight, we’ve got something a little different to share.”

Katara tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly, though her lips twitched with a knowing smile. Toph smirked, crossing her arms as if she already knew where this was going. Aang leaned forward, his expression eager, and Iroh watched with quiet, twinkling eyes, his cup of tea paused mid-sip.

Sokka turned to Zuko, his grin softening as he extended a hand. Zuko took it, his expression steady but his eyes betraying the deep well of emotion beneath the surface.

“We wanted you all to hear this from us,” Zuko said, his voice quiet but firm, carrying across the room with the authority of a leader and the vulnerability of a man in love. “Sokka and I… we’re engaged.”

The room was silent for half a beat, the weight of the words settling before the reactions began.

Katara gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, though the wide smile breaking through was unmistakable. “Sokka!” she exclaimed, rushing forward to pull him into a tight hug. “You didn’t tell me!”

“Well, I was waiting for the right moment,” Sokka said, laughing as he hugged her back. “You know, dramatic reveal and all that.”

Aang beamed, clapping his hands together. “I knew it! I mean, I had a feeling, but still, this is amazing!” He threw his arms around both Zuko and Sokka, pulling them into a tight, enthusiastic embrace.

Toph smirked from her spot by the pillar, calling out, “Took you two long enough! I was getting sick of waiting for you to figure it out.”

Zuko chuckled, his hand finding Sokka’s again as they were swarmed by their friends, each offering congratulations and teasing remarks. But through it all, there was a warmth, a sense of joy that filled the room and settled deep in their chests.

Iroh approached last, his smile soft and knowing. He bowed slightly, his hands clasped in front of him. “You’ve both brought great joy to this old man’s heart,” he said warmly. “Love is the greatest victory of all.”

Sokka grinned, leaning closer to Zuko. “Told you your uncle would be our biggest fan.”

As the laughter and celebration swirled around them, Zuko found himself looking at Sokka, the world fading into a quiet hum.

Sokka met his gaze, his blue eyes bright and steady, and for a moment, it was just the two of them. “You know,” Sokka said, his voice low, meant only for Zuko, “this all started with a letter.”

Zuko’s lips curved into a soft smile. “To the Firelord, from the sea,” he murmured, the words laced with a quiet reverence.

Sokka grinned, leaning in closer. “Guess I’m staying on dry land for a while. Or, you know, wherever you are.”

Zuko tightened his grip on Sokka’s hand, his heart full as he whispered, “Wherever we are.”

And as the party carried on, their friends’ laughter and joy surrounding them, Zuko and Sokka stayed close, their world now built not of letters and distance, but of shared promises and a love that was finally, undeniably theirs.

The celebration wound down as the night deepened, but the firelight still flickered warmly in the palace courtyard, casting golden shadows across the marble. Zuko and Sokka slipped away from the crowd, their hands intertwined as they wandered toward the quieter edges of the palace grounds.

Eventually, they reached a secluded balcony overlooking the sea, the moonlight painting the water in silvery streaks. The soft sounds of waves lapping against the cliffs below filled the air, a comforting rhythm that seemed to echo the steadiness of their hearts.

Sokka leaned against the railing, his blue eyes fixed on the endless expanse of the horizon. Zuko stood beside him, the cool night breeze tugging at their hair and robes. For a while, neither of them spoke , the silence between them not awkward but full of unspoken understanding.

Finally, Sokka broke the quiet, his voice low but filled with his usual humor. “So, here we are. Looking out at the sea, being all poetic and stuff. Honestly, Zuko, this is starting to sound like a wedding scene.”

Zuko smirked, shaking his head but not looking away from the water. “You started it. You’re the one who insisted on dragging me out here to stare dramatically at the ocean.”

“First of all,” Sokka said, turning to Zuko with a grin, “you followed me. And second, if you’re gonna propose again, at least let me prepare a proper comeback this time. Something dramatic and swoon-worthy, you know?”

Zuko chuckled softly, finally meeting Sokka’s gaze. “I think you’ve already said plenty tonight. You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Yeah, well,” Sokka replied, leaning a little closer, “neither are you, Firelord. That whole speech back there? Pretty sure half the room started tearing up. And don’t think I didn’t catch the way you kept looking at me all night.”

Zuko felt his cheeks warm, but he didn’t look away. “Maybe I was just making sure you weren’t planning to sneak out and take that ship after all.”

Sokka laughed, his voice light and free in the quiet night air. “Nah, I’m stuck with you now. And honestly? I’m not mad about it.”

They both turned back to the sea, the wind brushing past them like a gentle reminder of the vastness that had once separated them.

“Do you think…” Zuko began, his voice softer now, more introspective . “Do you think we’ll be okay? That this will be okay?”

Sokka’s smile faded into something quieter, more thoughtful. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Zuko’s. “Zuko, I’ve been through enough to know there’s no such thing as guarantees. The world’s always gonna be messy and chaotic and full of surprises. But I know one thing for sure.”

Zuko glanced at him, his heart tightening as he waited for Sokka to continue.

Sokka met his gaze, his blue eyes steady, his expression unusually serious. “I know that as long as we’re in it together, we’ll figure it out. Whatever the future throws at us, we’ve got this. You and me.”

Zuko exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders relaxing as Sokka’s words settled over him like a balm. “You always make it sound so simple,” he murmured, though there was a faint smile on his lips.

“Hey,” Sokka said, his grin returning, “one of us has to keep things light. Otherwise, we’d just be brooding all the time, and that’s your thing.”

Zuko rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “Thanks for the reminder.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence again, the weight of their earlier confessions still lingering but no longer heavy.

Sokka reached out and took Zuko’s hand fully, his grip firm but warm. “Whatever happens, Zuko, you’ve got me. And I’ve got you. That’s all that really matters, right?”

Zuko nodded, his gaze drifting back to the sea. “Right.” He paused, his voice growing softer. “No matter what the future holds.”

Sokka’s grin turned into a soft smile as he squeezed Zuko’s hand. “Alright, now you’re definitely sounding like you’re writing vows. You sure you’re not planning to skip the engagement and go straight to the wedding?”

Zuko shot him a dry look. “You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”

“Fair,” Sokka replied, his laugh light and genuine. He stepped closer, leaning against Zuko’s shoulder. “But seriously, don’t start writing vows without me. I have some ideas, and they’re great. ”

Zuko sighed, though his smile betrayed him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They stayed like that, side by side, the sea stretching endlessly before them and the stars blinking quietly overhead. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world seemed calm, steady—filled with the quiet promise of tomorrow.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered but the steady rhythm of their joined hands and the certainty that, together, they could face anything.