Chapter Text
i. a beautiful day
They do not take her, she goes. She says goodbye and leaves him, leaves their father and mother, leaves the entire tribe, without turning back. He knew she would do it — she’d told him unapologetically that she could not see his face again. It still sears his soul.
The ship which takes her to her new home is larger than anything the tribes have ever seen, a sheer reminder of what this will do for them. The materials it brought them as an initial offering had already been enough. He knows they cannot continue living like this. Their tribe is falling and she is the sacrifice. He does not want to imagine his proud sister on her knees to some Fire Lord, he does not want to accept that she is gone, he does not want to live this life without her.
She’d taken her belongings and left and she was gone. That was it. Now all he has are memories of her sitting down with their grandmother, her telling him stories, her incessantly chatting with the younger children. Her awkward stitches that didn’t quite pierce the animal skin, her fierce attitude, her playful bending.
He breathes in and hopes they will not. She will be wed in the summer. He will go.
ii. without revival
He is almost appalled at the sheer excess of this monarchy but he remembers that this is a wedding. When he docks she is waiting for him but her lithe arms are painted in crimson and there is a new spark in her eyes that is alarming to him. Still, he falls into her arms with a sigh. She does not complain about her life now. It’s strange, almost.
And then he is led into his rooms, then taken out for tea, and then he sits down with a Fire Lord. The Fire Lord who committed patricide, who has half of his face destroyed, who wears his ugly scar with pride. He is terrified but this is his brother so he breathes in and simply sits.
The man is not what he thought. Katara, now, is not who he thought. Her face when she slides next to her betrothed is familiar, and he makes room next to her. Still she wears crimson, strangely befitting to her dark skin. He cannot see hands move around robes but he is suspicious and he hates himself for it. The man is not terrible, almost just, and he hates himself for it.
At night he goes outside and meets his sister next to a fountain she is bending at and screams when she whispers he did it for me. She moves her hand lazily and yet firmly through the water as he asks for absolution as he reminds her this is a curse. She stays silent and then responds. I am happy here.
It is those words that destroy him, more than the smiles he sees behind pillars, how the Fire Lord places a hand on her shoulder when she shakes, the way all she wears is red. He thinks about his father, his mother, his grandfather, their people, the shipments that come in monthly, the supplies, and he feels broken.
He leaves her with a single tear running down her face in the courtyard and watches the ceremony from the crowd, watches her swear her heart to a monster, watches his loss happen in front of his very eyes. He almost sobs when the Fire Lady disappears to her quarters for the night, and he leaves the next morning.
iii. conversation in confined circles
Dear Sokka,
I cannot apologize, and it is for that I am sorry. I am sorry for the pain it will cause you. I want you to know that I miss you all more every day. I want to go home, to see you, to ensure mother’s health — I know that is the reason they did not come. I want to play with the children again and tell stories with you, Sokka, you must know this. But I am no longer a child, even if I wished to be.
Is it so terrible that this cage is open?
I neglected to mention much of this life to you. This is not home, and it is hard during the summer months, which worsened after you left. There is no snow or ice here, the water is different. Yet it’s still lovely. All the servants, too, and I’ve made many friends. There is little discontent here, with the other kingdoms appeased. And I know that the tribe has been doing well, now.
I know you will not understand, but I do feel love for the Fire Lord. I call him Zuko. I think he is my best friend here, Sokka. I feel like you would like him. He is not the monster they make him out to be. I am very glad that I have found him, here in this lifetime; it is special, this kind of love. I was happy there and yet I am also happy here with him, with his mother and his uncle and my new friends. I do not regret this.
I love him and that is what I meant. My love for you is the same. I will want to visit.
It will be some time, however. I am expecting a child.
I love you too, Sokka. I always will, even these worlds apart. You are a part of my home.
Love,
Fire Lady Katara
(that’s my official seal — I love you, and I am always your sister)
iv. frozen chronicles
They arrive during their summer. The ice stays intense. This time Katara disembarks the ship draped in blue, a smaller bundle in her arms the color of fire. A larger figure looms about her but Sokka pays him no heed. Instead he runs to his sister and places his head against her neck and falls apart. Then he looks at the boy in her arms.
The child does not look very much like Katara. He has the Fire Lord’s sharp features and pale skin, his ears and hair. For a second it makes him shudder but he holds back, sliding his nephew into his arms in the frigid air. The baby is almost fully swallowed in furs which he knows are from the South, although the gold trimming tells of a new story. Then eyes open, eyes which look like every color the ocean reflects, the sun bouncing off its surface. He falls irrevocably in love and then it is taken away by a creature who looks like a king.
Sokka has pride, if nothing else, and he nods to the man who is his brother. He fails to ignore the smile which befalls the murderer’s face as he holds his progeny, he fails to see his sister’s peaceful look.
That night reintroductions are made and the Fire Lord stays impressive even amongst a world so apart from his. In his peripheral vision he can see his sister crawl into her husband's side, wanting his heat after becoming accustomed to new temperatures. The child sleeps quietly in her arms and they close up together.
This time, again, she goes. This time she looks back.