Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Zuko was scared.

Immediately before passing out, Katara had informed them that her and Sokka’s father, along with the rest of the men from their tribe, were still in Chameleon Bay, so that’s where they were now headed. Sokka had perked up briefly at the news before seeming to fall into himself. He was now sitting up front with his sister, the Avatar sandwiched between them. Sokka had his arm slung behind the boy’s neck and was resting his hand on Katara’s shoulder, making sure she didn’t fall off as she slept. Zuko was still on the sky bison’s (Appa, its name was Appa) back with the earthbending girl, the Earth King, and his weird pet.

They traveled in silence.

The closer they got to the bay, the more Zuko’s false calm was failing him.

“Are you alright?” the young girl next to him asked.

Zuko startled, turning his head to look at her. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed. “I may not be able to tell how fast your heart is beating up here, but I’m blind, not deaf. I’m pretty sure they can hear your breathing up front, and it doesn’t sound too good.”

Zuko had been trying to fight back his panic, taking breaths like he did when he meditated, but apparently it had slipped into something closer to hyperventilating. 

“I’m fine,” Zuko mumbled, glad that she couldn’t see the way his face got a little warmer.

“Sure you are.”

It was odd speaking to her; she didn’t turn toward him at all, just stayed facing forward with pale unmoving eyes.

“So,” she continued, “I guess you’re the ‘angry freak with a ponytail’ then, huh?”

“Wh- what?” he asked, taken completely off guard by the non sequitur. 

The girl shrugged. “That’s what Sokka said when I asked him who you were, back when your sister was chasing us.” Zuko glanced over at Sokka and found that his shoulders were drawn up a little bit closer to his ears. “Before we all met up in that empty town.”

Zuko flinched at the reminder. The fire hitting Uncle’s chest still haunted his dreams sometimes. Had it hit another inch to the right, Zuko didn’t think he would’ve made it.

Not that it mattered now.

A quick death then probably would’ve been a kinder fate than the one Zuko had left him to not even an hour ago.

The earthbender seemed to know where his thoughts were headed.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly, and Zuko was sure that the group up front couldn’t hear them over the wind. His eyes shifted over to the Earth King, but the man was steadfastly turned away from them, talking softly to his bear. 

“Which part?” Zuko asked bitterly. “The part where he nearly died because I couldn’t give up hunting after the Avatar, even after being declared a traitor to my nation? The part where he wouldn’t have even had to follow me if I hadn’t been stupid enough to leave him behind in the first place? Or the part where he’s now captured by my sister, who’s either dragging him back to my father in chains as we speak or-” he cut himself off, unable to say the words. As if that, somehow, would protect him. Would stop them from being true.

She let him have a moment to calm his breathing once more. “When we got back into the city, your uncle came to us. He begged us to help him find you. And when Katara refused, he said that he knew there was good inside you, even after all you’d done. He went to people that he knew would have all the reason in the world to turn him away on the chance that he could save you. And if, in the end, he had to sacrifice his freedom for you to be safe, and for Aang to have a fighting chance at survival, then I think he made his peace with that long before he followed Aang down into those caves to find you again.”

Zuko knew there were tears building up in his eyes, but if anyone had asked, he would have blamed it on the harsh wind. He closed his eyes against the sting.

“I miss him too,” she whispered. 

Zuko lifted his head, confused. When had she met Uncle?

“He helped me when I needed it most. I… I ran away from them,” she said, jerking her head in Sokka’s direction. “I couldn’t let them in because of how I was raised, because of the way the world has always treated me, and I thought they were just more of the same. Your uncle pointed out to me that there was no shame in letting your loved ones help you, and helping them in return. He’s very kind, and wise.” She finally turned her head toward him. “And I know he loves you more than anything.”

Zuko remembered asking his uncle why he had hesitated enough for Azula to get her shot in, why he’d been distracted. He’d told him that the young Earth Kingdom girl he had met not an hour prior had been there, and he’d been shocked to see that she was a friend of the Avatar’s. 

He’d said she introduced herself as Toph.

A single tear slipped down his cheek. “He cares about you, too.”

Toph’s smile was small and sad, but she leaned a little bit closer to him all the same.

As they approached the bay, Zuko could faintly make out a small group of ships and what looked to be tents lining the shore. There was no light that Zuko could see. Appa let out a low rumble as they landed, attracting the attention of the few guards that were milling around. Zuko saw one of them run off toward the tent at the end of the row as they landed.

Katara and Sokka were in motion immediately, calling out for the men on the ground to help them with Aang. Zuko slipped off Appa’s back, and Toph jumped down beside him. Before he could move forward, however, she hesitantly put a hand on his arm. Startled, he looked down at her.

He could see the slight darkening of her face. “It’s the sand,” she said, frowning. “It makes everything… fuzzy.”

So apparently she used her connection to the earth to see. Somehow. 

Okay.

He laid his hand over hers and they moved quickly after Sokka’s group, into one of the tents. There were several people gathered around him, but Katara was quick to order them back as she fell to her knees next to Aang. She carefully moved him on his side and drew water out of her pouch. There was the slightest glow from the water, helping to illuminate the tent. Zuko was met with the worried faces of older Water Tribe men. After a moment, the water fell away and the open flap was the only source of light once more.

“He needs space,” Katara barked to the men behind her, and they jerked back, quickly filing out with several backwards glances. Zuko pressed himself as far into the corner as he could, shielding his face in the shadows while they moved past him. For a moment, the five of them were motionless in the near darkness, but soon enough, two men ducked back into the tent, carrying a large barrel between them. 

“We got as much fresh water as we could,” one of them stated quickly. He laid his hand heavily on the other’s shoulder. “And Bato learned a thing or two about caring for burns from the sisters during his stay at the abbey. He offered to help in any way he can.” 

Katara seemed to relax a little at the presence of the two men, some of the tension bleeding from her shoulders, but she still nodded firmly and waved Bato toward her. The man with the longer hair moved forward immediately. Zuko could see the rough discolored skin that ran all the way up his arm and as he passed by. 

Bato kneeled down next to her before turning slightly toward the other man again, though his eyes never left Aang’s prone form.

“We’ll have to risk it. We need enough light to see what we’re doing.”

The other man’s eyes tightened and he sighed quietly, but he nodded. Sokka’s head shot up and he met Zuko’s eyes pleadingly. They both knew Aang needed help now and that they didn’t have time to waste on anything, not even the few minutes it would take to set a fire and move Aang closer. It would also be better to limit any light they needed, otherwise they risked drawing attention to the beach.

Zuko squared his shoulders and moved forward, hesitating as he came around to Katara’s other side, but forcing himself to settle into a meditative pose as he lifted his hand in front of him. He took a breath in and on the exhale, a small flame grew in his hand until it was just enough to show the full extent of the damage done.

Two sharp breaths sounded out next to him as Bato recoiled. The other man immediately drew a large dagger out of its sheath and stepped forward.

“Dad, stop!” Sokka cried, moving between them with his hands up.

The man with the knife froze immediately, cold eyes locked on Zuko. Katara glanced up in worry before turning her focus back onto Aang. She grabbed the water and once again put her hands over the exit wound.

“Sokka,” the man (his father, this was Sokka’s father-) growled, “he’s a firebender.”

“I know, Dad, I know.” Sokka’s voice was shaking slightly. Zuko had to hold himself back from jumping in between the two of them. “He’s with us, I promise.”

“Hakoda,” Bato called quietly, eyes still watching the flame in his palm warily from his position on the floor; the flickering light showcased the way his skin was raised and hardened, an angry reddish-brown in color. Zuko knew exactly what it would feel like if he reached out to touch it.

Hakoda glared at him for another moment in the tense silence before stepping back. He kept his weapon in hand as the other man moved forward once more. One of Bato’s hands was clenched into a tight fist. Zuko didn’t blame him. He hadn't been able to stand fire either, not even his own, for a long few months after his banishment.

“I need you to be ready with a wet cloth,” Katara instructed quietly, and Bato swiftly moved into action. As soon as her water fell away, he laid a hand on Aang’s arm and began pressing the material carefully to the area around the wound, cleaning up the irritated skin. Katara’s healing had done a lot to relieve the worst of the injury, but Aang had still been hit by lightning and Zuko knew he would always have a scar there.

It seemed that that was something they’d have in common now. 

He’d let out a small moan when Katara’s water had hit his wound, but at the touch of the cloth, Aang jerked away with a strangled sound. Toph moved forward to clumsily grab hold of him. Once she knew where her hands were, she held on tight, keeping him restrained. Sokka had grabbed onto his legs, making sure he wouldn’t kick out and jostle himself too much.

Hakoda was still keeping a steady eye on him.

Zuko sat as still as he could and breathed. Aang needed light, so Zuko would give him light.

It was the least he could do.

By the time they’d gotten Aang stabilized enough to loosely wrap the wound, it was deep into the night. Hakoda hadn’t let up for a second of it, narrowing his eyes any time Zuko so much as twitched. He’d begun to feel lethargy and grief tugging at his limbs, pulling at his control, but it wasn’t the first time Zuko had pushed himself like this and he wasn’t going to break now. Though he really wished the older man would at least look away once or twice. His gaze hadn’t moved, even when he’d called another man in and spoken to him softly. 

As everything started to settle, Zuko shifted back a little, trying to regain feeling in his legs after so long in one position. Before Hakoda could shoot forward again, another man stuck his head inside the tent and Zuko froze.

“Chief Hakoda, the tent is ready,” he said softly. Hakoda nodded and the man disappeared again. Bato leaned back with a sigh, rubbing his hand over his eyes briefly as Katara leaned against his side. She looked exhausted.

Of course he’s the chief, Zuko thought a little bitterly as Hakoda motioned Sokka toward him. He’s probably heard that I attacked his village, no wonder he was ready to skewer me. How many other teenaged firebenders with scars across their face could there be who also happened to be traveling around in the Earth Kingdom? The man’s title did make sense, though. Katara and Sokka were both incredibly strong willed people, and Zuko could see their father in them, just like he could see pieces of both of them in him.

For example, he now knew where they got their glares.

Sokka stood up silently, not meeting his father’s eyes. He reached out to Toph as she too rose, letting her take his arm. When Zuko didn’t move, Sokka finally looked at him, jerking his head toward the door.

Zuko took one last breath, carefully extinguishing the flame he’d fed for hours. As its light disappeared, he thought he saw a flash of relief cross Bato’s face. 

Zuko very slowly stood up, making sure to telegraph his movements. He waited until Sokka and Toph had started for the door before he moved to Aang’s other side (away from Katara, away from Bato) and followed.

The Chief held the entrance open for them and Zuko tensed as he passed under his arm and into the open. It was much darker now than it had been when they’d entered. Only a few guards were making the rounds and all of them slowed their pace whenever they passed by. Most shot happy smiles at Sokka as they continued on their way.

They walked to a nearby tent in silence. 

“You can sleep here,” Hakoda said gently, holding the flap open again. “Your sister and Bato will stay with Aang and watch over him during the night.” Zuko made to follow them inside when a hand fell down on his shoulder.

“You’ll be sleeping near my tent,” Hakoda said firmly. It took everything Zuko had not to shake or flinch at the sound of his voice.

He tried to remember what Sokka had said in the cave, that his father had never hurt him, never treated him as something less; he hadn’t sounded like he feared Hakoda. But the way he’d cringed away from him in the healing tent told a different story. And besides, just because the man wouldn’t hurt his own son, that didn’t mean that that kindness extended to Zuko. 

Sokka’s head popped out before Zuko could say anything. “Are you coming?” he asked tiredly.

“No, Sokka,” his father replied. Sokka’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Why not?” His eyes shifted toward Zuko’s shoulder. “Where are you taking him?” he asked quietly.

“He’ll stay with the other men.”

A spark of fear shot through Zuko. Hakoda was bad enough, but he was still just one man. No, instead the chief planned to throw him to the rest of his men and leave him.

The men whose village he’d attacked. Zuko had threatened their families, their children; he didn’t want to think about what they had in mind for him once he was alone.

“Why can’t he stay here?” Sokka questioned, breaking through Zuko’s panic. “Dad, he protected us, I don’t even think we’d be here if he hadn’t helped. He turned against his sister to come with us, he turned down a chance to go home.”

“That doesn’t mean this couldn’t all be a ploy,” Hakoda argued. “Who’s to say that that wasn’t the plan all along? He comes here, gains our trust, and betrays us as soon as he’s learned all he can.”

Sokka seemed to hesitate for a moment and Zuko felt his heart drop, but as quick as it came, the indecisiveness vanished from his face. “No,” he said, no room in his voice for argument. “He wouldn’t do that, not now. I trust him, Dad.”

From the look on his face, Hakoda most certainly did not share that sentiment, but Sokka pressed on before he could say anything. “And if he does try anything, Toph will be able to tell before he gets the chance. The safest place for him to be is right here.”

Hakoda was still glaring lightly at Zuko, the icy blue eyes he shared with his son seeming to stare into his very core, but he only tightened his hand on Zuko’s shoulder before releasing him. “Alright,” he said softly. “I trust you Sokka. If this is what you think is best…” He trailed off, and Zuko could tell he still wasn’t pleased with the situation, but Sokka had already brightened just a little bit. He exited the tent and looked up at his father through suspiciously wet eyes.

“I really missed you, Dad,” he whispered.

Immediately, the man’s face softened into something incredibly tender as he pulled his son to him. “Oh, Sokka,” he whispered back, pressing his lips into his son’s temple. Sokka closed his eyes tightly, burying his face in his father’s chest as the arms cradling his body tightened, and something in Zuko ached as he slipped into the tent, giving the two a moment alone.

Zuko woke up not long after the sun had risen. He sighed quietly, aware of his still-sleeping companions, and wished that he could join them. Late nights always took a toll on him because no matter how hard he tried, how badly he wanted to, he had never been able to sleep in. He’d asked Uncle about it once, because he knew that Azula sometimes slept in later than him (not often, especially not after their father had been crowned, but at least she apparently had the option), and he’d reassured Zuko that both he and Lu Ten had been the same way. His uncle had only ever been able to sleep later in recent years, but Zuko had never asked what caused the shift.

He had a pretty good idea of why anyways.

He could count the hours of sleep he’d managed to grab with one hand, but that would have to be enough. At least no one was expecting him to be awake for a few hours still, so he had some time to himself before having to face the world.

He curled into a ball again, finally letting himself process the immense grief that had been slowly suffocating him all night. He pressed his hands against his eyes, trying to block out the sight of his uncle’s desperation, the sound of him yelling for Zuko to take the others and leave. 

He knew how important it was that the Avatar survived; he knew how close they’d already come to losing him.

He still couldn’t fight back the feeling that he should have stayed. Sokka would’ve been fine, Toph would still have found him and they would’ve gotten to safety. The only vaguely useful thing Zuko had done this entire time was shave a little time off by providing a fire, and even that did almost as much harm as it had good. He should’ve fought with Uncle. Maybe they could have made it out with both of them there (having more people, more resources, gave more options. Zuko knew this very well), but even if they’d both been captured, at least they would’ve been together; Uncle wouldn’t have had to face his fate completely alone.

Toph’s words yesterday had helped somewhat, but nothing could fully erase the guilt he now carried deep within his heart. Uncle was the one person who had never turned his back on Zuko, not even when he’d been at his worst. And Zuko had repaid that love and care by abandoning him.

It felt like only minutes had passed as he drowned in his misery, and maybe Zuko had managed to doze in and out a little, helping to blur time together, but soon enough, Sokka was shifting next to him, his face scrunched up against the light as he fought to cling to sleep. Zuko watched him as he lost the battle, eventually yawning and raising his arms above his head to stretch. His eyes blinked open, looking just as tired as Zuko felt. Sokka stared at him for a second, blinking lazily, before a small smile turned the corners of his mouth up.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” he replied, just as quiet. Neither of them wanted to deal with Toph’s wrath should they wake her up before she was ready.

Sokka hesitantly opened his arms, eyes meeting Zuko’s again shyly, and not even Agni himself could’ve stopped Zuko from taking the comfort he offered in that moment.

They stayed like that, both drinking in the feeling of having someone in their arms. Zuko rested his forehead against Sokka’s collar, Sokka’s chin resting against the top of his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Zuko mumbled into his skin. “You shouldn’t have to be comforting me right now.”

Sokka’s hold tightened minutely, as if he was afraid Zuko would pull away. Zuko knew he wasn’t that strong.

“You have just as much of a right to comfort as I do right now,” Sokka insisted. “Besides, you act like this isn’t helping me just as much as it is you.”

Zuko sighed. “Sokka…” He didn’t particularly want to have this conversation, but he knew he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t ask, and it would take his mind off of Uncle, even for just a moment. “I saw the way you were with your father in the other tent. The way you could barely look at him. Are you... ?”

Sokka cringed back a little. “No!” he whispered hoarsely. “No, it’s not- it’s nothing like that, I promise.” The hold tightened once more. “He’s… he’s nothing like your father, I just-” Sokka stopped himself with a sigh, bringing one hand up to cover his eyes.

“I just don’t want to disappoint him. He won’t hurt me, he won’t love me any less, but…” He felt Sokka swallow. “I just want him to be proud of me. And I’ve done nothing but fail the people closest to me. Zuko, I was there, I should’ve protected Aang and instead, here we are.”

Zuko tightened his own grip around Sokka. “He’s the Avatar,” he said dryly. “Normally, he’s not someone most people worry about protecting. You and I both know he can do that himself.”

Sokka sighed again. “I know. He’s got more power in his left pinkie than I have in my whole body, but… he’s still just a kid. And he hasn’t had the chance to just be a kid in a long time.”

Zuko stayed silent, knowing, with another pang of guilt, that he was part of the reason for that. He let their breathing fill the small silence in the tent.

“I wanted to show my dad that I had grown while he was gone. I wanted to show him that I’m ready, that he could trust me as a warrior. Instead, we lost everything.”

“Not everything,” Zuko argued. “And he does trust you.”

Sokka snorted softly, but didn’t fight back against the words. “Speaking of,” Zuko continued, “I didn’t thank you for last night.”

“What about it?”

Zuko pushed his face a little bit closer. “Trusting me. Not letting him take me.”

“Well,” Sokka said, and Zuko could hear the smile in his voice, “I might have had ulterior motives for that.”

They stayed pressed together like that until a voice from outside the tent called Sokka’s name and Toph’s breathing stuttered, followed by a groan.

Sokka got up to open the flap while Zuko sat up, leaving his hands in plain view.

Zuko saw the other man from last night standing outside. Bato. The man’s gaze flicked toward Zuko for a second, locking eyes with him, before he returned his focus to Sokka. “Your father wants to see you, if you’re ready?”

“Yeah, just give us a minute,” Sokka replied. Toph groaned again, but stretched out and pushed herself up. She latched onto Zuko’s arm as they both stood up and they followed Sokka out of the tent. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare cord?” Sokka asked.

Bato smiled slightly, already holding one out. “I had a feeling you might be wanting one.”

Sokka’s smile was brighter than any Zuko could remember seeing. “You’re the best!”

Bato’s smile turned fond as Sokka began pulling his hair up. When he’d finished, turning his smile toward Bato, the man placed his arm around Sokka and tugged him close as they walked. 

The damage to his other arm was much worse in the light of day. 

Zuko could see the twisted patterns of scorched flesh that the fire had licked up his side. The man wore no covering for it, other than his short sleeved shirt. He was very careful with the arm, but it didn’t seem like it caused him too much pain. Zuko would guess that the nerve endings had been burned off. He resisted the urge to raise his hand to his own eye.

He resolved to limit his firebending around Bato as much as he could.

Several men shouted out to Sokka as they walked, and Sokka grinned at them. They were stopped a couple times as a few of the men approached them. One held his hand above Sokka’s head as if measuring him and Sokka stood up straighter, causing them all to laugh happily.

When they reached the tent at the end of the line, Bato squeezed Sokka gently before letting go. He lifted the flap for them and they entered, Bato coming in behind them.

Chief Hakoda was standing over a stack of scrolls, closing the one he currently held in his hands before turning to face them.

A smile lifted his features. “Sokka,” he said warmly, opening his arms. Sokka rushed forward, sinking into the embrace again. After a moment they parted, and Hakoda held him at arm's length. He looked his son up and down and Zuko couldn’t help the slight tense in his body. Toph shifted in response but said nothing.

“Look at you,” Hakoda whispered. “You’ve grown so much.” He turned to Bato. “You didn’t tell me that,” he complained playfully.

The corner of Bato’s mouth ticked up. “I did, you just weren’t listening after I told you about his rock dodging.”

Hakoda seemed to deflate a little. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he said, turning back to Sokka with a sadness in his eyes.

Sokka dropped his head a little. “It’s okay, Dad, I understand.”

Hakoda’s hands tightened on Sokka’s shoulders. “It’s not okay,” he insisted. “Your sister… she pointed out how much I’ve missed while she was here yesterday. I know the two of you were strong after I left, I know you’ve grown in more ways than I can even imagine… that you understand why I had to leave you.” There was a deep sorrow etched into the lines of Hakoda’s face. “But I will never forgive myself for everything I missed, all of the hurt I caused both of you.”

Sokka was staring up at his father with tears growing in his eyes.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told her,” Hakoda continued softly. “The two of you are everything to me. I thought about you every single day, and every night, all I wanted was to have you back in my arms. It was like I was being stabbed in the heart, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

Sokka’s tears finally won out, racing down his face as he threw himself forward. His body shook with silent sobs as Hakoda held him tight. Bato came up behind Sokka, laying a hand on both of their shoulders as Sokka fisted his hand into his father’s shirt.

“I missed you so much,” Sokka said, voice shaking. Hakoda laid his hand on Sokka’s head, just underneath his wolftail.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Zuko was so transfixed by the scene in front of him that he didn’t realize he was shaking until Toph’s hands tightened against his arm, causing him to look at her. She looked concerned.

Zuko took a deep breath as quietly as he could, forcing himself to calm down, to push past the age old ache his father had left in his heart, the newer but no less painful one caused by the loss of his uncle. His hand darted up to brush the tears away from his own eyes before they could fall.

When they finally parted, Hakoda smiled down at Sokka again. “When this is all over, I’m going to take you ice dodging with real ice. Not because you have anything to prove, but because I couldn’t be prouder of you and I want to make those memories with you.”

Sokka’s face drew up in confusion. “But… I’ve done nothing but fail. There’s no help coming from the Earth Kingdom, Aang nearly died-”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop that,” his father said, cutting in before Sokka could get too worked up.

“But I was right there, Dad! I’m the one that convinced the Earth King to let Azula in, I saw her shoot Aang down-”

“Sokka,” Hakoda interrupted, gentle but firm. “It wasn’t your fault. You think I’ve never made a mistake that cost someone their life, their freedom? You think I’ve never watched something terrible happen knowing that, had I made a different decision, things would have ended differently?”

Bato’s hand found its way to Hakoda’s shoulder again, and the Chief seemed to lean into it, to draw strength from it.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated. “No one can make the right decision all the time; it’s something we all have to learn to live with. I had always hoped that you wouldn’t have to learn that lesson until you were much older, but I’m telling it to you now. There will always be mistakes that stay with you; you just have to learn how to move past them, to learn from them so that they don’t happen again. No, we can’t count on the Earth Kingdom anymore, but Aang is alive. I stayed with your sister last night and she’s confident he’ll make it. And as long as he’s alive, there is hope. You’ve gone up against impossible odds time and time again, and most of those times, you came out on top. One failure, no matter how devastating, is not enough to wipe out every victory you’ve ever had. It won’t be easy, but we can come back from this, and we will."

Sokka was staring steadfastly into his father’s face, relaxing more and more with every word until he looked calmer and more determined than Zuko had seen in the entire time they’d known each other.

“I… do have one idea,” Sokka admitted quietly, “but I don’t know how good of a plan it is.”

Hakoda smiled encouragingly, gesturing toward the center of the room where a large map was set up.

That smile dropped when he noticed Zuko move toward the center, and Toph jerked slightly as he froze in place, but Bato moved directly between them, blocking him from Hakoda’s sight. Zuko forced himself forward again and took a seat carefully, Bato to his left, Hakoda on Bato’s other side, Toph to his right and Sokka directly in front of them all.

Zuko couldn’t help but notice that Bato had chosen to sit with his unburned side facing him. Zuko’s own scar likewise faced the man, putting him in Zuko’s blindspot unless he tilted his head towards him.

Sokka cleared his throat nervously and visibly steeled himself, but before he could actually speak, Hakoda beat him to it.

“Actually, would you like to grab breakfast before we begin? I know I think better on a full stomach.”

Sokka perked up at the mention of food, but Bato huffed almost angrily.

“Hakoda,” he snapped, turning to face him.

“Yes?” the man replied, voice cool.

There was silence as the two of them stared at each other. Sokka glanced over at Zuko, suddenly unsure, but Zuko could only give him his own glance of confusion.

“I know that you know your son has grown wise, but you haven’t seen it, and so you don’t trust him as you should,” Bato said shortly, his voice holding an edge to it.

“You of all people know that I would trust him with my life,” Hakoda said coldly, and Zuko could just barely see the way his eyes narrowed.

“But not with his own?” Bato demanded.

Hakoda’s jaw tightened, his eyes darted toward Zuko, and suddenly he understood.

Zuko stood up, tense, and bowed as respectfully as he could. “I apologize for the intrusion,” he said. “I’ll take my leave.”

“Stay,” Bato replied, leaving no room for argument, and Zuko froze in the middle of straightening out of his bow.

“If the boy wants to leave, let him,” Hakoda shot back, voice even.

“He doesn’t want to leave, he’s just smart enough to recognize the fact that you don’t want him here.”

Sokka sounded like he’d had the breath knocked out of him, but Zuko couldn’t look over to him. His eyes were locked on Hakoda. 

“And why should I?” Hakoda asked. His voice was like steel and Zuko just wanted to leave before that steel was turned on him.

“Because your son wants him here,” Bato argued, voice just as cold. “Or do you not trust him?”

This must have been what his tutors had meant when they said that Water Tribe men were made of ice, just as hard and cold and dangerous as the environment they lived in. After meeting Sokka, Zuko had begun to accept the fact that maybe a century at war had tinted their history’s view of the other nation, but it was starting to look like Zuko might just owe them an apology.

Hakoda’s eyes had narrowed even further, but he turned his gaze toward Sokka. Zuko tensed up even further, his heart beating wildly in his chest as his breathing picked up.

“How long have you known him?” Hakoda asked quietly.

Sokka looked conflicted. “A few months?”

“And how many of those months did he spend hunting you?”

Sokka blinked. “Katara told you,” he said, sounding a little numb.

“She mentioned the fact that you spent a good few months running away from a Fire Nation prince that was determined to capture the Avatar,” he confirmed, anger dancing clearly under the surface of his tone. “She also mentioned that he’d stolen your mother’s necklace and used it to track you down; that he’d succeeded in kidnapping Aang the first time you met, after threatening your grandmother and destroying part of the village.”

Zuko felt shame and fear take root in him in equal measure. The old woman he’d grabbed, the one that Katara had clutched to her after he’d let her go; that was their grandmother. And the necklace, her mother’s necklace.

Zuko hadn’t seen anyone he thought could have been their mother in that village, just their grandmother. 

They had been travelling the world alone, without any adult accompanying them.

And there was no woman in the tent with them now, celebrating the return of her son.

Just Hakoda, who was nearly shaking with rage at the mere presence of a firebender (one who had consistently hurt his children, hunted them across the world).

Sokka’s eyes were wide and pain filled.

And Zuko knew.

He dropped to his knees, unable to stand any longer. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You’re sorry?” Hakoda repeated cruelly. 

“Dad-” Sokka tried, his voice breaking.

“How long has he been on our side?” he demanded.

Zuko could hear Sokka opening his mouth again and again, but no words came out.

“Hakoda-” Bato tried.

“How long?” the Chief barked.

“Since… since last night,” Sokka whispered. Zuko could barely hear him.

“A few hours versus an entire lifetime,” Hakoda spat. “I trust you Sokka, I do, but I’m sorry, I will not trust him.”

Hakoda stood abruptly, towering over Zuko, and Zuko flinched, yelling out in fear, in shame, as the man’s hand came up.

“Hakoda!”

Zuko was shaking, his head buried in his arms (please, not again, please he was sorry, he was sorry- ) as he huddled on the ground. The sudden stillness made his whimper painfully obvious when a hand touched his back gently. He flinched again, even as it drew back immediately. 

“Zuko,” a soft, scared, voice called.

He shook harder.

“Zuko,” another, smaller voice called. Its high pitch didn’t sound like it belonged to a man, but rather to a child.

He lifted his head just enough to look.

Toph stared back at him, her unseeing eyes wide and frightened as her small hand reached out toward his side.

Sokka was kneeling next to her, his face pale and afraid. He was shaking almost as badly as Zuko.

Bato had stood up and was now staring furiously at his chief with a hand pressed hard against the man’s chest, holding him back.

Hakoda was staring down at him, wide eyed and almost as pale as his son.

“Why don’t you three head back to your tent?” Bato suggested, his voice quiet and calm, even as his eyes pierced straight through Hakoda. “Sokka, you can ask one of the men to bring you food.”

Sokka stared blankly at Bato before he swallowed and nodded. It took a moment for him to be able to coax the firebender into standing, and both of the other children stuck closely to his sides as they exited the tent.

There was silence between them after they’d left, Bato’s hand still pressed to his chest as they listened to the footsteps grow fainter until they were indistinguishable from the sound of the men going about their day. Hakoda couldn’t move his eyes from the spot where Zuko had cowered from him.

Only then did Bato draw his hand back.

“What were you thinking?” Bato demanded, eyes dark and stormy. 

It snapped Hakoda out of his trance. “I-” 

Bato waited for him to speak, to justify himself, but Hakoda couldn’t find the words.

“Yes,” Bato said instead, “he’s a firebender. I know that quite well. And yet, I was able to move past that.” He crossed his arms carefully, drawing Hakoda’s gaze right to his arm. “Why can’t you?”

“You- you know that’s not his only sin, Bato,” Hakoda challenged back desperately. “You know what else he’s done.”

“Yes,” he agreed again. “I was there when your daughter cried in your arms, telling you all about him. And I think that’s the problem. You look at him and you see her fear, her fatigue. He’s not a boy to you, he’s a monster.”

“He’s the prince of the Fire Nation,” Hakoda stressed. “Is it really so improbable that someone raised that way from birth, who’s already done so much to hurt innocents, would be willing to fake a change of heart just to stab us in the back the moment we turn it?” While he couldn’t shake off the sheer fear in the boy’s body, it didn’t erase who he was and what he could do. No matter how badly Hakoda felt for him.

“It’s perfectly reasonable. Except for the fact that your son has already told you multiple times that it’s not. Why can’t you take him for his word if you trust him like you claim to?”

Hakoda felt his gaze harden. “Don’t you dare imply that I don’t see him for the warrior he’s grown into.”

Bato didn’t even flinch. “I wouldn’t have to if it weren’t true. He’s your son, Hakoda-”

“You’re right!” Hakoda shouted. “He is my son, not yours. And you can’t possibly know how much it scares me to see him with that boy, knowing that any moment could be his last if he decides to betray us!”

Hakoda panted, watching as Bato closed himself off from him. Hakoda’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. 

“Bato, I-”

“Have I not been in his life just as long as you?” he whispered softly. “Was I not the one to care for him, for both of them, after Kya was taken? While you crashed and burned in your grief?”

Hakoda flinched, the hole in his heart flaring up as he thought about what she would say if she could see him now.

“You think seeing him next to someone who could burn him in an instant doesn’t make me fear for him?” Bato demanded, and Hakoda could see the anger finally break through in his eyes.

Hakoda wanted to speak up, to explain that that’s exactly why he was so afraid now, that hearing Bato scream as the fire took hold of him still haunted him. That leaving him behind, not sure if he would ever see him again, but knowing that he had to keep moving, keep up the facade of being alright for his men, was the hardest thing he’d had to do since leaving his children behind. But he couldn’t get the words out.

Bato softened just slightly. “I know you trust him, Koda, and I know that your fear of losing him outweighs that trust sometimes. But that doesn’t excuse what you just did.”

He lowered his head in shame, unable to bear the weight of Bato’s gaze anymore. “I didn’t mean to-” He cut himself off. He knew it didn’t matter what he’d intended; it didn’t change what had happened. “Why?” he forced out instead. For the life of him, Hakoda couldn’t figure out why the firebender had reacted so strongly. 

“You saw his eye, just like I did,” Bato replied simply. “I got my marks fighting in a war. Did you ever stop to think about where a child no older than your son got his?”

Hakoda had noticed the scar that contorted the prince’s face into a nearly permanent scowl. But the boy was a firebender, surely it must’ve been an accident of some kind? He seemed to have incredible control over his flame; perhaps that was why. But he hadn’t reacted like that until Hakoda had lifted his hand to accentuate his point. 

He’d borne Hakoda’s anger without so much as a sound, but the sight of a man standing over him and raising his hand toward him had sent Zuko spiraling into a panic as he shielded his face.

Hakoda’s eyes widened and he knew that Bato knew the conclusion he’d reached. 

Bato had always been far better at reading others and getting straight to the heart of the matter.

Bato stepped forward, his hand raising up to gently cup over Hakoda’s eye. His pinkie just barely brushed against his ear. If his hand had been a little bigger, or Hakoda’s head a little smaller, it would have fit perfectly with what had been literally staring Hakoda in the face this entire time.

Hakoda felt sick.

Bato had left not long after. Hakoda knew he needed to make up for his words to the other man, especially after he showed up again with Sokka in tow.

His son stared up at him hesitantly, the joy and trust that had been so clear on his face just a few minutes ago now gone.

Hakoda had looked away in shame as he explained his actions. He made sure that Sokka knew it didn’t excuse anything, that he wasn’t trying to excuse anything, but that he just wanted Sokka to understand. And miraculously, he did.

“But Zuko doesn’t,” he’d said.

And Hakoda knew that that was another wound he needed to patch.

After apologizing, making sure that Sokka knew exactly how much he loved him, how much he trusted him, how proud he was, Sokka left with a promise to bring Zuko back as soon as he was ready.

Another flicker of shame shot through him.

Hakoda had returned to the reports, figuring that he would be waiting on the Fire Nation boy for a while, but was surprised when he and Sokka walked in not even half an hour later.

Sokka had his hand on Zuko’s shoulder, and part of Hakoda chafed at the closeness, but he viciously shoved that part down.

“Before I say anything else,” Hakoda started quietly, making his voice as non-threatening as he possibly could, “I want you to know that I will not hurt you. I apologize for any stress and fear I’ve caused you, and you have my word that I will never raise a hand against you.”

The way Zuko’s eye widened (just the one; the eye under his scar was still squinted nearly closed, giving him a permanent glare, and Hakoda couldn’t stand the sight of it, felt sick at the thought of what must have happened to make it like that-) in shock made Hakoda feel even worse because he knew he deserved it.

Hakoda stood in silence, letting Zuko make the first move. Sokka stared into Zuko’s face determinedly, seeming to search for something, and Zuko finally looked back, giving a tiny nod. Sokka left them, and Hakoda could see Bato standing outside the tent, knew that he would be ready to jump in if Hakoda messed up again.

He knew he deserved that too.

Hakoda carefully gestured to the center of the room, telegraphing his every movement.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked. The arrangement would have Zuko on the opposite side of the map from him, consequently putting Zuko out of his reach.

Zuko walked over and sat down, still tense.

The young boy (and spirits, he really was just a boy) stared back at him, his eyes not quite meeting Hakoda’s. 

Hakoda took a steadying breath and began. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you before, and I certainly never intended to hurt you. I… I didn’t trust you, I’ll admit it, and it’s been pointed out to me that you probably don’t deserve that, that I should exercise more faith in my son, and I would like to apologize for the way I’ve treated you since you arrived here.”

Zuko was still staring at him, his eye widening a little again at Hakoda’s words, but he didn’t say anything, so Hakoda continued.

“Sokka told me about what happened in Ba Sing Se.” That had his shoulders raising a little, the lightest pink touching his cheeks and red brightening the tip of his untouched ear. Hakoda paused, raising an eyebrow. Maybe there was more to the story than Sokka had told him, but he didn’t feel as if he had the right to press for answers right at this moment, so he started up again. “He told me about how you had changed, how you fought with them against your sister and got them to safety. He told me that you had to leave your uncle behind to protect Aang.”

Zuko flinched, closing his eyes as he turned away slightly. Hakoda’s heart ached for him.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said quietly, knowing from experience that the words would do nothing for him but needing to say them anyways.

“I’m sorry for yours,” Zuko replied, voice rough and small.

Hakoda could feel his brows draw together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Zuko flinched again, looking like he regretted the words.

“I’m not upset,” he assured him, “just… confused?”

Zuko’s eyes moved fast, darting to his face before dropping back to his chest. “Your- your wife,” he said softly.

Hakoda felt like he was going to choke on the breath he’d just drawn in and he coughed slightly. “It’s- How-” he tried, before taking a moment to pause. “How do you…?”

Zuko’s gaze fell to the floor. “You said it was her mother’s necklace,” he said. “She said it was her mother’s necklace, and there was no one in the village, no one here, and I- I assumed…”

Hakoda hadn’t given him enough credit it seemed. He caught on quickly, though he supposed there was also a history between him and his children that Hakoda didn’t fully know that was informing his assumptions.

His hand drifted to touch the band on his arm, the one he’d fashioned from one of Kya’s dresses after she’d… 

He sighed. “Their mother was taken a few years ago, when they were still young; a Fire Nation raid,” Hakoda explained. “I’d never felt as much fear as I did when Katara came running up to me, screaming that there was a man in our house, that Kya was-” He forced his eyes closed as tears built within them. “I ran, but by the time I got there… the only thing there was her necklace. I left Katara there, I ran toward the ship, but it was already moving away. She was gone.”

He recalled the way he’d run around, begging the spirits that he was wrong, that she was still there somewhere; how he’d panicked when he couldn’t find Sokka either, feared that he’d lost them both; how he’d rushed back to their house to find Katara crying as she clutched at the necklace his mother had given him for their engagement; the way he’d fallen to the ground next to her when Bato ran in with Sokka, safe and sound in his arms and not yet aware of what they’d lost.

“I’m so sorry,” Zuko whispered again, and Hakoda looked up at him, though his vision was a little blurry.

Zuko had tears of his own in his eyes and they were streaming down his face. Hakoda forced his lips into a smile. “It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted. “I’m sorry that I ever treated you like it was.”

Zuko buried his face in his hands, trying to hide the tears, to wipe them away as he took in a shuddering breath. 

“I didn’t tell you that to make you feel guilty, Zuko,” Hakoda said softly. “I told you because I wanted you to understand what happened earlier. When Katara showed up in our camp yesterday, I had never been happier. She was standing right in front of me, safe and so grown, and I thought I was dreaming. But she held herself back from me. When I finally found out why, she threw herself into my arms and cried. She told me about how scared she’d been for so long, wondering whether or not she would ever see me again, and how there had been times when she was traveling with Aang that all she’d wanted was for me to be there for her. She’d wanted me to sweep in and make everything alright, to protect them all and make the hurt finally go away. And I felt so ashamed that I had managed to fail her and Sokka so completely. I had left so that I could protect them, and instead, all I did was abandon and hurt them in a way no one else could. 

“So when she told me about how she’d lost the necklace, how you had used it to track them, all I could think about was how close I’d come to losing her, just like I lost her mother. And I connected the rage I felt for the men that took Kya from us with you because of that. But I was wrong,” he insisted. 

Zuko looked up at him, vulnerability clear on his face, even as he attempted to hide behind a facade of passiveness.

Hakoda remembered what Sokka had told him earlier, about how all Zuko had wanted was to live a life in peace with his uncle. He hadn’t asked for this, but he was here, and that was what mattered now.

“Sokka also told me that the Firelord banished you,” Hakoda said carefully, “that you were considered a traitor.”

He expected the flinch this time, the shame that colored Zuko’s face. “I- yes,” he said, sounding defeated.

“Why?” he asked as gently as he could.

Zuko took his time, but Hakoda was content to wait, to let him gather his thoughts.

“I… spoke out when I shouldn’t have,” he admitted.

When he didn’t continue, Hakoda prompted him smoothly. “What did you speak out about?”

Zuko’s eyes were now fixed on the map between them, his brow furrowed. “There was a general. He wanted to- to sacrifice a battalion of men, of new recruits. There was a trap, and he knew it, and he still wanted to send them in as a distraction so that another group could attack from the back and pin them down. He knew they would all die, and all he did was laugh.”

He shared Zuko’s anger. Hakoda mourned the loss of every one of his men, shared in the sorrow of the Earth Kingdom soldiers they’d fought beside on occasion when one of their own was lost. War was a tragedy, a burden that took too many lives needlessly, and yet, this general treated it like his men were nothing more than tiles in a game of pai sho: expendable and easily replaced.

“I called him out for it,” Zuko continued, “asked him how he could even think about betraying our people like that…” He seemed to deflate a little. “And I was told that I had shown complete disrespect by speaking out of turn. My father told me I had to fight in an Agni Kai, and I thought I would be dueling the general. I accepted and I was glad that I’d have the chance to go against him. But… he wasn’t the one I’d disrespected.”

Hakoda was entranced by the story, needing to hear more and wanting to stop Zuko in equal measure.

“I turned around on the dias, ready to fight… but it was my father standing across from me.” Zuko closed his eyes once more, and Hakoda could read the pain in his face. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as the scattered pieces he’d been collecting started to fall together, forming a horrifying picture. Zuko turned his face away until Hakoda could no longer see the scar that marred his face. 

“I wouldn’t fight him.” His voice was almost too soft for Hakoda to hear, but he hung off every word. “He said I’d dishonored him, dishonored myself. He said I needed to be taught a lesson, and-” Zuko sucked in a breath and swallowed. “And held me down as he-” His voice broke as a tear streaked down his cheek.

Hakoda felt like he couldn’t breathe. The way Zuko had crumpled to his knees in the face of Hakoda’s anger played again in his mind’s eye. The way he’d immediately covered his face the second he caught sight of Hakoda’s hand. He tried not to imagine a smaller body doing the same thing, falling down and likely begging an uncaring father for mercy that wouldn’t be shown. Held him down, he’d said, and that made it so much worse. Bato’s screams once again rang in his ears, but now they were higher, the sounds of a child crying out in pain as the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

“Zuko.” His voice broke before he could say anything else.

When Zuko looked to him, eyes wide and filled with tears and so damn young, Hakoda couldn’t stop from throwing himself across the map to wrap his arms around him, uncaring of the way pieces of wood tumbled off in his wake. Zuko flinched and tensed under his weight and Hakoda cursed himself for his stupidity as he immediately pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” he begged, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, to...”

Zuko was staring at him like he’d never seen him before. “It’s… it’s okay,” he said. “You just… caught me off guard,” he finished quietly, a blush staining his cheeks. 

Hakoda wondered if the poor kid had ever even been hugged before. He couldn’t say it would surprise him if the answer was no.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you,” Hakoda apologized again, once he’d pushed back his sorrow. “You shouldn’t have had to share your pain with me for me to treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, instead of suspicion and anger. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, but if not, I understand.” 

Zuko looked shocked again, like he couldn’t believe the words Hakoda was speaking, and Hakoda couldn’t wait for the invasion; if he had his way, he’d be burning the Firelord down himself.

“I- I forgive you,” Zuko said numbly, like he expected Hakoda to take it all back the second he fell for it.

Hakoda smiled at him, bowing his head respectfully. “Thank you.”

Zuko tipped his head in return, and when they straightened up, Hakoda shifted off of the map, sitting down next to Zuko and giving him space once more.

“You’re a good man,” Zuko said, finally looking at him.

Hakoda smiled bitterly, his many mistakes fresh on his mind. “I try to be,” he replied.

“Sokka looks up to you. He wants… he wants you to be proud of him. And I can tell that you love him a lot. It would mean a lot to him to hear you say that, to show it. He’s incredibly skilled, and amazing at so many things, but he doesn’t have confidence in that yet.” Zuko looked like he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, but he didn’t take them back and he didn’t back down.

Hakoda had already planned to make it up to his son for the way he’d acted, but this doubled his resolve. “I’ll be sure to make my actions match the way I feel then,” he promised. “My son is very lucky to have someone like you watching his back,” he added, hoping to boost Zuko’s confidence as well.

Zuko’s cheek bloomed pink again as he looked away, and Hakoda held back a smile. There was definitely more going on between them than Sokka had told him, but he figured if they wanted to, they would tell him. 

A dull thud from the doorway drew their attention. Hakoda saw his son slumped over on the ground, half outside the tent still. He was rubbing his head and glaring at someone out of sight, and when Hakoda cleared his throat amusedly, Sokka froze and turned to them sheepishly.

“Eavesdropping?” he demanded goodnaturedly, raising his eyebrow to complete the effect.

“I prefer to call it information gathering?” Sokka answered.

Hakoda chuckled at the distinctly question-like quality of his answer while Bato lifted the flap open. Sokka clambered to his feet and glared at Toph, who stood behind him grinning.

Hakoda met Bato’s eyes and could see his own anger at what he’d heard reflected back at him. He had no doubt he would be hearing exactly what Bato thought of the Firelord’s parenting skills in the near future, but for now, he focused on the small pleased smile that adorned his face. He still had some grovelling to do to make up for the fatherhood comment from earlier (he’d been feeling insecure and unsure and he knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he’d just wanted the man to stop), but easing Zuko’s worries had gone a long way to smooth things over between them. 

He’d always had a bleeding heart when it came to kids.

Hakoda’s pride in his son swelled as he listened to his updated invasion plan. The loss of the Earth Kingdom forces was a harsh blow, but Sokka had apparently been doing quite a bit of creative thinking. As he listed off potential allies in the form of people he’d met and befriended while traveling the world, Hakoda was amazing by the way he’d considered each of their individual strengths and weaved them together to make something that might just work.

As they exited the tent, Hakoda threw his arm around Sokka’s shoulders and hugged him tight. 

“You amaze me, you know that?” he said quietly.

Sokka’s eyes widened and a shy smile lit up his face. “Really?”

Hakoda smiled back. “Of course. Who else would think to invite swamp dwelling waterbenders along to invade the Fire Nation?”

Sokka’s shoulders dropped and he rolled his eyes, smile still on his face as Hakoda chuckled. 

“I mean it, though,” he continued. “You’ve grown into an intelligent and capable warrior, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Sokka smiled up at him, joy written in every inch of his being. 

“Now, how about we get something to eat?”

Bato’s groan at Sokka’s loud cheering reduced Hakoda to warm laughter once more. He saw Zuko’s tiny smile at Sokka’s antics out of the corner of his eye and the warm feeling in his chest grew.

He was awoken by a hushed, “Chief,” spoken directly into his ear. His hand immediately grabbed for the dagger he kept underneath his sleeping mat even as his brain connected the voice to one of the men that had been assigned to guard duty for that night.

“What’s happening?” he asked blearily, already shaking his head to wake himself up. This was two nights in a row now that his sleep had been interrupted. He hoped the circumstances weren’t quite as dire this time, but the hope was slim.

“We caught someone trying to raid the ships,” he said seriously. “I think they’ve been caught now, but they sent me to get you.”

“Understood,” Hakoda replied, and the man nodded, exiting the tent. Bato was already pulling on his boots next to him as Hakoda got up to do the same. They all slept in their clothing for this exact reason, but he still hated how often he had to be thankful for that fact.

They joined the large group outside a minute later, only to see his children and their friends already there.

Katara turned at the sound of their footsteps, a tired but happy smile on her face. As they approached, she swept her arm out to indicate the two people that were currently tied up and sitting on the ground.

“Dad, this is Pipsqueak and The Duke.”

Hakoda blinked, wondering if this was a dream. One of them was a very large man and the other was a child whose entire body looked to be the same size as his companion’s head. 

After an awkward pause he hadn’t meant to give, Hakoda replied. “Good to meet you?”

“They want to help us,” Sokka continued enthusiastically.

Hakoda blinked. “Then why are they tied up?”

“Because we tried to steal from your ship,” the smaller one piped up from his position on the ground. “We didn’t know you were friends with Sokka and Katara, but they told us about everything that happened since the last time we met and we want to help you with your invasion!”

Hakoda was still attempting to make sense of the situation when the other man spoke up in a slow deep voice. “We heard that the Fire Nation killed the Avatar, but I’m glad he’s alright.”

So that was the story they were spinning then. “How far has news about the Avatar spread?” Hakoda asked.

“We heard when we passed through a town outside Ba Sing Se this morning,” the one Katara had introduced as The Duke said sadly. 

“That’s… not good,” Hakoda replied grimly.

“Maybe it is,” Sokka muttered, looking like he was thinking through something.

“What do you mean?” Katara asked.

Sokka looked up again. “If people think Aang is dead, then they won’t be expecting him to show up when we invade the Fire Nation.”

“A secret weapon,” Hakoda concluded. “They can’t prepare for someone they believe to be dead.”

“Exactly!”

Toph hummed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but that might just work.”

Sokka turned to her indignantly, and Hakoda motioned for his men to untie the two newcomers who were apparently friends with his children.

“Why were you stealing from us?” Bato asked as they stood up.

“Because we were really hungry,” The Duke replied easily. “We saw your ships from up on the hill and decided to try and sneak something out before the other ships came in.”

Hakoda frowned sharply, unease stirring in his chest. “What other ships?” 

“The Fire Nation ships that were showing up on the horizon. There were a lot of them making their way toward the city.”

Hakoda swore under his breath. “Tanook, wake everyone up, we’re packing out now.”

The man nodded and shot off toward the tents. 

“Dad, wait,” Sokka said, stepping forward. “I don’t think we’ll be able to outrun them.”. 

Zuko, who had thus far stood silently, voiced his agreement. “They can travel at least two knots faster than your boats are capable of without any wind to aid you; they’ll catch you before you can make it out of the bay.”

Hakoda frowned. He didn’t like the idea of waiting for a fight to come to them, backing them into a corner, especially with Aang wounded like he was. If anyone saw him and reported back where he was, they would never have a moment of peace, and Aang’s survival would no longer be a secret.

“Maybe…” Sokka started, before trailing off unsure.

“What do you have in mind?” Hakoda asked.

“Well… what if we capture a ship? Then we could board that one and hide in plain sight while Aang is healing.”

Hakoda almost dismissed the idea outright, not wanting to abandon their fleet. They were Water Tribe, they sailed with the ocean, not against it like the steel nightmares the Fire Nation favored. 

But Sokka had a point.

Hakoda couldn’t just think as a Water Tribe chieftain anymore. He had bigger concerns than his own wishes.

“Do you have any ideas on how we’d do that?” he asked.

Sokka bit his lip, before perking up once more. “What about the Stink ‘n’ Sink?” 

Hakoda had shown them to Sokka after lunch at his son’s insistence; Hakoda had been surprised and thrilled to hear that Sokka had come up with a similar weapon during a visit to one of the air temples. Bato, on the other hand, had not been thrilled with how amusing Sokka found the name.

He could hear Bato’s sigh from behind him and his lips twitched upward, despite the circumstances.

“We need the ship intact, those would be too destructive. And they draw more attention than we want,” Hakoda pointed out.

“What’s a Stink ‘n’ Sink?” Toph asked.

“It tangles seaweed in the propeller of a ship and stinks the whole place up so that they abandon it,” Hakoda replied distractedly. “But to do that, it has to explode first.”

“That’s it!” Sokka exclaimed. “We don’t use the bombs themselves, but use the same concept! Katara can freeze the water around the propellers so that they stop working and the ship falls behind, and once the rest of the fleet is far enough away, we take the ship. Then she can unfreeze it when we’re done so that there’s no permanent damage!”

Hakoda turned to look at his daughter and saw the determination on her face. He didn’t doubt that she could do it.

“Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll gather some of the men while the rest of you work on hiding the fleet.” He received nods from everyone as they all scrambled to prepare. When Hakoda turned back, he saw that Zuko was hovering nearby.

“I spent three years on one of those ships,” he said quietly. He looked up and met Hakoda’s eyes confidently. “I can talk you through the layout and blind spots.”

Hakoda smiled at him and knew that Bato was doing the same.

“Let’s get to work then.”