Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Nuon’s family estate sits high on the mountainside, overlooking the endless blue expanse of ocean. Colorful birds glide between the waving palm trees on the beach below, where the waves lap peacefully at the white sand. It’s warm, but not too warm; pleasant, but not scorching.

It’s a different kind of beauty from what he’s used to. At the south pole, a place he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see again, the white icebergs against black ocean had been stark, the dancing sky lights during the winters striking. Some would call it alien, inhospitable, but it reminds him of the people he used to love, the life he used to live.

Here, it is lush, and life is meant to thrive here. But it’s foreign. It doesn’t matter if the fire lord himself accepts him as one of their own — it’s not home. 

He does not belong in either world.

Zhao and Nuon’s ceremony ended about two hours ago. Hakoda grew tired of chatting politely with the other military officials not long after, which is also when he stepped away from the rice wine so as to avoid making a fool of himself. He took the stairs to the beach alone — miraculously, without stumbling over his own feet — and skipped stones on the water.

“No, when the tribe is hungry and a baby dies, we don’t eat the baby,” he’d muttered. The stone had skipped twice before a waved had swallowed it. “They don’t eat the baby.”

Better they ask him about all the barbarisms of the Water Tribes than some other Fire Nation soldier. He hates them gawking at him — look, there goes the water savage. It’s a wonder we managed to civilize him. There is hope yet for the rest of the world.

He’d hated it when Ozai had said it to him over dinner, before the north pole invasion. He hates it now. But maybe they have a point. 

He’d spent the last month or so in the Northern Water Tribe, helping to facilitate colonization. The koi spirits still live, but they are guarded by the Fire Nation at all hours. The palace, royalty inside, is under threat of execution should there be any resistance from the tribe. The captured waterbenders had been put to use healing the injured Fire Nation soldiers, and later, Nuon, once she had been brought over.

And Sokka and Katara, the avatar in tow, had escaped — gone before he woke up, gone before he could’ve said anything to them. 

And what would he have said? It wouldn’t have mattered. They wouldn’t have listened.

The point is that Hakoda had spent a month there, the place the Southern Water Tribe could’ve been had it not been systematically destroyed for the better part of a century. And then, he had seen the Fire Nation.

It’s no contest. He will not call one culture superior to the other, but the Northern Water Tribe consists of just Agna Qul’a and a few outlying villages, while the Fire Nation archipelago takes weeks to sail around. Even the Earth Kingdom — the name is a misnomer, he has learned, as it is comprised of various smaller kingdoms — cannot compare.

And Ozai rules his expansive empire with a brutal efficiency. Hakoda sees factories, mass production, industrialization, technology beyond his imagination. The Water Tribes never even learned to farm; their environment does not allow it.

The rest of the world can deny it all they want, but however bedgrudgingly, he’s admitted it to himself: the Fire Nation is superior. 

He’d stayed to watch the sunset on the shore, and returned to the estate by the last remaining daylight. Out on the balcony, he waits for the reception to end and blackness to fill the sky. His hopeless thoughts circle, spinning and spinning and getting nowhere. Ozai has barely paid attention to him all day, and he doesn’t know why he thought he would mean anything to him.

He must be fucking half the people here, Hakoda thinks bitterly. If there’s anything he’s learned about Fire Nation nobility so far, it’s that they keep up appearances on the outside, but all that repression leads to unbelievable drama and gossip. Lady so-and-so is cheating on her husband with two different men. Lord what’s-his-face goes to local bars dressed as a woman. Lord and Lady whatever have orgies with their favorite servant girls. He can only imagine what sort of rumors are already circulating about him.

It’s Zhao who comes to get him. “What are you doing out here in the dark?” he asks. With a few carefully aimed blasts, he ignites the lanterns. “The party’s in the courtyard.”

“I had to step away from the wine,” Hakoda says.

“What’s the harm? It’s a celebration.” Zhao claps him on the back so hard he jolts against the railing. It occurs to him that Zhao’s probably had too much to drink, too. “Come back inside. It’s impolite to disappear in the middle of a party, you know. You’re lucky I don’t give a shit because I’m not some stuffy noble, but Nuon won’t be happy.”

“It’s the nobles that are bothering me,” Hakoda confesses. “Asking me if I’m a cannibal. And Ozai — he — he barely talks to me anymore—”

“You can’t expect him to give you his full attention,” Zhao says. “He’s an important man. We’re all constantly fighting for his favor.”

Hakoda glances up at him, distraught. No, he’s proven his worth time and time again, he’s earned his place.

Zhao studies him, his drunkenness, his misery. “You’re in over your head,” he says. “You have no idea what you’e gotten into. Whether you’re dealing with the military or the nobility, it’s the same, Hakoda. Ozai’s opinion is the only important one. Other people will try to cut you down, discredit you in his eyes, but as long as you’ve got a direct line to him, and especially because he likes the, uh… personal services you provide… you’re in the clear. But you have to stay useful to him, because you’re replaceable.”

“He told me… I wasn’t,” Hakoda says, openly distressed. He almost retorts with he said you’re replaceable, but he doesn’t want to alienate one of his few allies.

“You’re not easily replaceable,” Zhao says. His hand slides down Hakoda’s back, looping around his waist. “But the Water Tribes have been colonized. He could still find use for you in capturing the avatar — he almost sent me to do it, before the north pole mission took precedence — but you’ve served your main purpose already.”

Upon seeing Hakoda’s expression, Zhao laughs: “Oh, you let your feelings get mixed up in it.”

“I don’t—” Hakoda starts to protest, pulling away. Zhao releases him, but a moment later, his arm is back around Hakoda’s waist.

“You and I aren’t the only ones to make that mistake,” he says. “There will be others. I thought I’d never get over him until I met Nuon. Still…” He sighs, staring over the dark horizon. “You feel important when he chooses you. But it’s an illusion. I don’t think he can love anymore, not since his wife betrayed him.”

Zhao glances behind them to check if anyone’s looking, then starts to massage Hakoda’s ass. Hakoda’s instinct is to slap him away — really, Zhao, at your own wedding? — but he just stands there, realizing how starved he is for any scrap of affection. He’s only been with Ozai once since he arrived in the Fire Nation, and he knows Nuon wouldn’t mind. As for the nobles — let them gossip.

“Just because he doesn’t love you doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it,” Zhao murmurs, nuzzling into his neck. Hakoda meets his lips with a few tentative, soft kisses, and Zhao draws away. His breath smells of alcohol. “You’re welcome to join us tonight. We’ve invited him too, and he said he’ll be there… as a wedding present of sorts. He wants you to come. We all do.”

He raises an eyebrow, not sure whether to be amused or scandalized. “Are you inviting us to… share your wedding night?” he whispers.

“I prefer to call it an emergency strategy meeting. In my bedroom,” Zhao says. He gives Hakoda’s ass one more squeeze before removing his hand. “The reception’s wrapping up. Everyone’s going home. Perhaps you can catch Ozai alone for a while.”

—

Nuon’s room is filled with old tomes on the shelves and decorative scrolls adorning the walls. She hasn’t bothered cleaning for company; the desk is cluttered with half-finished work, and Hakoda thinks he recognizes the cover of one book from the spirit library. He still hasn’t learned Fire Nation script, and it’s proven to be an inconvenience since his arrival, just another reason for his supposed peers to mock him.

He voices his dissatisfaction. “Who was the man who asked me if I’d ever eaten a baby? I don’t recall his name.”

“Admiral Shi,” Ozai says, removing his outer robe and draping it over the back of Nuon’s chair. “Shall I banish him? Challenge him to an Agni Kai on your behalf?”

Hakoda has started to get a feel for the fire lord’s dry sense of humor over the last month of their acquaintance. “Or you could demote him and give me his title instead,” he replies, half-serious.

“Consider it done,” Ozai says. “I’ve always considered him an unpleasant man. Running his mouth when no one asked for his opinion… A lesson in humility will do him well.” He kicks off his shoes and sprawls across Nuon’s unmade bed. Before Hakoda can question whether he’s really giving him the promotion, the fire lord continues, “Putting up with nobility gets easier with practice… but not very. For your first time, it could’ve gone worse. Still, there’s room for improvement. I’d advise you to avoid vanishing midway through the reception next time.”

“You noticed I was gone?” he asks, half embarrassed, half touched that Ozai gives enough of a shit to pay attention to him.

“I keep my allies close, Admiral,” he replies. (Wait, so I am getting promoted?) “I prefer to keep my friends closer. To nobility, it’s all a game. They’ve played it with the ruling family for centuries, wishing to sway us one way or another… They are toys to me, Hakoda, and sooner or later, I tire of them. But you? You don’t know the game. It’s…” He crosses his ankles, stretches out, and sighs. “It’s refreshing. You don’t understand how good it feels to have new blood in Caldera.”

He glances up, and his eyes meet Hakoda’s. That gaze still catches him off-guard — especially when it’s imbued with that hunger. Does that make me your friend or your new toy, he almost blurts, but he keeps his mouth shut. Ozai sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, beckoning him closer.

“You deserve a reward for putting up with such nonsense,” Ozai breathes, reaching up to undo Hakoda’s messy topknot.

His stomach — and his pants — tighten. “And the promotion isn’t my reward?” he jokes nervously.

“Consider it Shi’s punishment,” he says. “You know how I treat disrespect.”

Instead, Hakoda considers it a warning, but he kneels between the fire lord’s spread legs, breath quickening in anticipation.

“What shall I do with you?” Ozai murmurs, whether more to himself or to Hakoda, he’s not sure. He runs his hand through Hakoda’s hair, maybe like he’s a pet, maybe like they’re real lovers. He pulls out his cock with his free hand, rubbing himself until he begins to harden.

Tell me you won’t abandon me when I’m not useful anymore darts through his head.Tell me I didn’t turn my back on what used to be my people for nothing and nobody — No, they turned their back on ME—

He sets his hands on Ozai’s thighs and leans in to taste him. He almost startles when the door opens, but Ozai holds him down, and the impulse to jerk away goes out of him. There’s nothing shameful about this nothing wrong with what I’m doing/what I’ve done

“You kept us waiting too long,” Ozai teases them. “We had to begin without you.”

“Don’t let us interrupt,” comes Nuon’s voice. Hakoda squeezes his eyes shut and lets Ozai push him further down into his crotch. He hears her footsteps come around to the side, like she’s trying to get a better look, and he takes the cock so far down his throat that he almost gags. No, not for the sake of putting on a performance, but to hide my face—

—What happened to wanting them all to see, like that first time?

Zhao’s hands tug at his pants, and Hakoda digs his nails into Ozai’s thighs, afraid of what will happen if he panics and backs out. Ozai idly strokes his hair, and he thinks of how the fire lord is the only one who can see his face, and he feels a little better. 

(The only one whose opinion matters)

His heart is thumping, echoing in his ears; he feels vaguely nauseous. With his face buried between Ozai’s legs, he can’t smell the alcohol on Zhao’s breath anymore, but he can feel it in the clumsy way he fumbles with Hakoda’s clothes, then his own. He tenses when Zhao pulls him onto his lap.

“So eager to be taken by two firebenders at once,” Ozai murmurs, reaching down to squeeze his cockhead. If it had been Zhao who’d said it, he might’ve shoved him away. Zhao is his equal, and he will not be degraded by his equal. 

“He’s learned where he’s needed most,” Zhao adds, pushing into him. Hakoda draws away from Ozai’s cock to stare up at him in a haze. He doesn’t really want Zhao inside him, doesn’t want him saying disgusting things like that to me but Ozai looks pleased, so he lets it happen (because he can be pleased he can be satisfied he won’t turn his back on me if I just make him happy)

“I thought he was useful in other places, too,” Nuon comes to his defense. There’s that word again — useful —

For balance, he shifts his hands around Ozai’s waist as Zhao grunts and pants behind him. Idly, he wonders if Nuon is just going to watch, fingering herself from the desk chair, but she takes a seat beside Ozai, starting to stroke him while he drapes his arm over her shoulder to play with her tits. 

Hakoda’s grip tightens again, an irrational spike of jealousy rising up in his throat, threatening to voice itself. Irrational is all he can be with all these feelings, his arousal, the physical sensations from Zhao thrusting into him, looking up to Ozai like I would a god

Unexpectedly, Ozai’s load sprays all over his face, and Nuon laughs at him. His vision goes red with fury, and he starts to struggle free of Zhao’s death grip around his waist — how long has she wanted to humiliate me how long have they ALL wanted to humiliate me but Ozai’s hand running back through his hair is the only thing that placates him.

It dribbles down his cheeks uncomfortably, and he lets go of Ozai to wipe it away, but the fire lord stops him. “Don’t,” he says. “You look good like this.”

It makes him harder than he’s been all night. He smiles through the same haze through which he sees Ozai. I look good like this. Nuon squirms and moans when Ozai reaches between her legs, but his gaze doesn’t leave Hakoda, like he’s admiring his handiwork.

Zhao finishes inside him, stopping abruptly. He has been muttering obscene things into Hakoda’s ear the whole time, but he’s barely registered it, too focused on what’s in front of him. He has no idea how long Zhao’s wanted to fuck him. Thinking Ozai was through with him, he’d been willing to entertain it earlier, but  he’s putting up with it now precisely because Ozai wants to see him like this.

“Come here, Hakoda,” Ozai says, and they grip each other’s forearms, Ozai pulling him up to the bed to lie in his lap. It turns him on more when Ozai calls him by his title, but he likes the familiarity of hearing his name. 

He spreads Hakoda’s legs. “I told him he deserves a reward for getting through the night.” Zhao’s hot cum leaks out of him and onto Ozai’s thighs and the bedspread. With the fire lord holding him from behind like this, skin to skin, he feels more secure, more powerful than he’s felt all night — holding me like he owns me —

and it’s not a bad thing

“What do you think, Admiral? Would you like Zhao and Nuon to thank you for attending their dreadful wedding?” Ozai asks.

More than anything, he wants Ozai to fuck him, to finish what Zhao started. But Ozai is still soft, he knows because he can feel his cock beneath him—

“Was it that bad?” Nuon asks innocently. She’s already reached over, slowly jerking Hakoda off (has any woman touched me since Kya)

“Oh, he hated it, he’s just too polite to admit it,” Ozai says. “You’ll have to recall, he’s unused to the lifestyle of nobility.”

“It was bad,” Zhao says. “I told you not to invite Lieutenant Yan. He was drunk before the ceremony started. If you think I have a drinking problem, you should’ve seen him.”

“He and I go way back,” Nuon explains. “I couldn’t not invite him!”

“Why don’t you be good hosts,” Hakoda rasps. It’s the first thing he’s said since Zhao and Nuon arrived. He gestures to his erection. “Stop bickering and blow me.” Ozai’s fingers trail across his chest, toying with his nipples as Nuon obediently bends over to suck him off. A moment later, Zhao inches forward to join her.

He watches them for only a few seconds before Ozai demands his attention again. Ozai rolls his eyes, giving him a look that says they won't last long, and Hakoda laughs. Unable to help himself, he leans in to kiss Ozai. 

Zhao and Nuon will fall out of the fire lord’s favor. It’s in their nature to argue, to get distracted by foolish little things. But Hakoda can see the big picture, woven together by the threads of his devotion (nothing else left to be devoted to nothing else left in my life)

And he realizes that the Fire Nation will never be his home.

Because sometimes, home is a person.

—

His new house in Caldera is a ten minute walk from the palace entrance, and twenty minutes from the prison. Kanna is old, set in her ways, and he doesn’t think she could handle the heat anyway, but maybe there’s still hope for Bato. He’s smart. He’ll come to his senses. He doesn’t have to like it, but he has to realize that allying with the Fire Nation is and always has been in the Water Tribe’s best interest.

Hakoda wants to forgive him. Bato just has to give him a reason to do it. Sokka and Katara, on the other hand… they could be anywhere. It’s not like they’re his captive audience.

He tells this to Bato. “I’ve always hated your puns,” Bato says.

“Well, well, well, this must be quite the punishment for you,” Hakoda replies. If he pretends like nothing’s changed between them, maybe it’ll get Bato to let his guard down so he can get through to him.

Not long after Hakoda moved to Caldera, he requested to have Bato transported to the local prison. Sometimes on his days off, he takes Bato with him, just to show him that firebenders are just regular people and the Fire Nation isn’t all bad. Hakoda has introduced him to Zhao and Nuon, but he hasn’t met Ozai yet (will he be jealous I hope he is but what if he isn’t?) and it’ll probably stay that way.

Today, Hakoda is taking his old friend to a festival. Bato is handcuffed; Hakoda is armed. The prison guards don’t like that he can take captives out whenever he feels like it, but he holds rank on them. Ozai was serious, after all, about demoting Shi and giving his title to Hakoda.

“I’ll buy you something to decorate your cell,” Hakoda says nonchalantly. “And you must be sick of prison food.” The street vendors are selling all sorts of arts and crafts — paintings, talismans, jewelry, pottery, rugs — and food — fire flakes, noodles, sushi, roasted meat. The smells intermingle; every second a new one washes over them. He can tell Bato is hungry. He hasn’t yet regained the weight he’d lost in the Southern Water Tribe prison.

“If I let you do that, will you bring me back to my cell early?” Bato asks.

“Why would you rather be in your cell than out here? I’ll even buy you that sake you like,” Hakoda offers. He points at an open storefront, a bar inside.

“You’re not going to buy back my friendship. And you know why.”

“Because I’m so disgusting you can’t even look at me?” he spits. People have a way of wearing through his patience so quickly these days. “You’re lucky I did anything for you after you turned on me, Bato. I could’ve put you in solitary and left you to rot. Be grateful.”

“There’s so much wrong with what you said that I don’t know where to start.” Some benders dance with fire hoops in the middle of the street, but neither of them pay any attention, pushing past the small crowd gathered around the performers. “Grateful how? The same way you’re grateful the Fire Nation didn’t just finish the job and kill us all during colonization?”

Hakoda grabs the back of his neck and brings Bato down level with his face. “Watch your fucking mouth before I decide to make good on my threat.”

Bato glares at him without defiance, without anger — but with sadness. “I don’t even know who you are anymore,” he says.

They stand in the street as festival flows around them, an island. Hakoda searches his face. “Maybe I wouldn’t be like this if I could’ve trusted you in the first place.”

His features morph into a snarl. “Don’t blame me for… for this.” Scathingly, his eyes rake up and down Hakoda’s military uniform.

“Well, I’m not going to blame myself. The whole tribe abandoned me because I wouldn’t let them collectively commit suicide,” he says.

“I’m done arguing with you. You’re too far gone,” Bato says, wriggling out of his grasp. Hakoda lets him. “Are you happy? Are you happy with what you’ve done?”

“He makes me happy,” Hakoda whispers (does he make me happy is he just filling a hole?) Not so long ago he would’ve balked at the insinuation that he was the fire lord’s personal bitch, but being the fire lord’s personal anything gives him power.

So he wears the badge with pride. It does not matter what Bato or his family or his former tribe or anyone else thinks. Ozai’s opinion is the only one that matters.

Bato regards him with an even greater disgust if such a thing is possible, and Hakoda revels in it. “Excuse me, sir,” a voice says, breaking them out of their trance. A guard points in they direction they’d come from. “The execution will be held in the town square. The prisoners must be there by sundown.”

“I’m just taking him for his last meal,” Hakoda explains. “Thank you. He’ll be there.”

When he looks back at Bato, there’s fear all across his face — real fear, mortal fear.

He thinks I’m serious — He thinks I’m really going to kill him

(Why can’t I be serious?)

“Relax,” he laughs, clapping him on the back. They are, after all, old friends sharing a joke. “I’m just kidding.”

The panic drains from Bato’s features, replaced by a deeper, more painful sort of fear.

“But I won’t be unless you let me buy you dinner.”

—

Not long after Hakoda had departed from the Northern Water Tribe, the news had come in that Ba Sing Se had fallen from the inside, the avatar was dead, and that factions within the Earth Kingdom were planning to invade the Fire Nation during an upcoming solar eclipse.

To him, it sounds as though the war has already been won, but some stubborn people (my children among them?) refuse to accept the fact.

When he meets Princess Azula, he doesn’t ask her about the avatar’s companions for fear that she will take it as sympathy for the enemy. The war may be won, but rebellions still pose a threat, and the question remains: what will they do with Ba Sing Se?

Ozai has called a meeting to address the issue. Zuko looks surprised that his father has asked for his opinion, but he responds smoothly enough with a vapid remark about the Earth Kingdom’s propensity for hope.

Azula… she’s different. She has a definite influence over her father, and Hakoda doesn’t like it one bit.

They decide that the Earth Kingdom will be burnt to the ground during Sozin’s Comet.

After the meeting, Ozai invites him to a training session in the courtyard. Many firebending katas can be performed with weapons, and recently, Hakoda has been working on his swordsmanship.

“Why didn’t you speak up at the meeting, Admiral? I didn’t invite you so you could sit in silence, you know,” Ozai says. The sweat on his back glistens as they run through a form in slow-motion. Hakoda choppily mirrors his movements, the weight of the twin broadswords unfamiliar in his hands. For once, he’s less distracted by the fire lord’s body, and more by his plans.

“My input hardly seemed necessary,” he replies (not when you latch onto your daughter’s insane scheme to burn down an entire continent)

(Is it insane?)

“The Earth Kingdom is not the Northern Water Tribe,” he finds himself continuing. “We can’t threaten to kill their patron spirit, or hold their royal family hostage.” The king had escaped during the takeover (maybe he’s with Sokka and Katara?) “Burning it all down may not be the best way, but it will be the most efficient.”

They turn to face each other to begin the warmup spar. Usually, Hakoda practices with his troops, but most of the high-ranking military officials have trained individually with the fire lord at some point, and it’s the second time Ozai has brought him to a private session.

“I had hoped you would provide some insight on assimilation,” Ozai says. Maybe Hakoda imagines the annoyance in his voice, but when Ozai bows, he can’t make out his face.

He considers it. Assimilating the Earth Kingdom would be a long, arduous process, one that would make colonizing the Water Tribes look like a walk in the park. And all the earthbenders who would rush in to swear loyalty to Ozai for fear of retribution… Hakoda has enough competition as it is, not only with the natives, but with the new Dai Li. He doesn’t need more foreigners swooping in to win the fire lord’s favor, and not to mention, going against Azula seems an unwise move indeed.

No. He shakes his head. He has to think about more than just himself. That’s why Ozai had taken a liking to him in the first place, because he’s always considering what would be best for his people. 

For their spar, the fire lord has chosen a Water Tribe club, perhaps for the novelty of it. Hakoda had had one imported from the north, and he had introduced it to Ozai during their other session. Ozai handles it clumsily, but then again, Hakoda isn’t acclimated to the broadswords, either.

“They’ll assimilate faster if you break them,” Hakoda finally responds. He parries the whalebone club with both swords. Ozai is adept, at least, at keeping him at a distance, and he tries to duck underneath the swings, to get in his guard.

Ozai frowns. “There must be a way to break them without destroying their resources. Their farmland, their infrastructure — reduced to ash, they are useless.” He grunts, blocking Hakoda’s attack, lucky that he hasn’t gotten used to wielding both swords. “Rebuilding the south pole has proven difficult enough, but the whole of the Earth Kingdom? We cannot afford it, Hakoda.”

He doesn’t have an answer. So instead, he asks: “Did you ever think you would get this far?”

“Get this far?” he echoes. Hakoda takes his eyes off their locked weapons to glimpse Ozai’s expression, troubled and distraught. A rivulet of sweat trickles down his forehead, his brows furrowed.

“This close to winning,” Hakoda says. The metal of his sword grinds against the whalebone, and he swings fro Ozai’s knees. 

Ozai knocks the sword off course with a forceful strike, and the distress leaves his features, replaced by a mischievous smirk. “You doubted me?”

It’s a cue that he can joke around without fear of punishment. “With the war going on for what, a century? I’d always assumed it would still be raging by the time I was an old man on my deathbed.”

“You should have known better,” he says, lunging.

“Stop trying to stab me, it’s not a sword,” Hakoda tells him.

“You could stab more often. It’s not a club,” he retorts good-naturedly.

He takes Ozai’s advice and thrusts forward. The fire lord narrowly dodges. “Once you told me that war was the only way,” he pants, attacking again. He’s got Ozai up against the courtyard wall now. “What will you do after you’ve conquered the world?”

Ozai swings at his weak side, and he loses his grip on one sword. With the other, he strikes the would-be finishing blow, stopping just shy of his neck.

“I think I’ll sit back and enjoy it,” he replies, grinning.

An old thought arises in Hakoda’s mind: I could kill him right here right now

… But it’s so faded, such an ancient relic of a bygone time in his life that it holds no water. He’s much more interested in the way Ozai is looking at him, how close together they are.

“Really? I thought you’d want to forge right ahead with something new,” he says, raising his eyebrows. He loves Ozai’s ambition; it’s something he’d never had as a leader. Always, he’d opted to stick with the status quo or just tried to prevent things from getting worse, rather than working to improve them. “With the spirit world right there?”

“Consider me intrigued,” Ozai purrs. “I’ve always liked how you think.”

Ozai pushes aside the sword and brings him in for a kiss (right here in the middle of the courtyard where anyone can see — good, it’s because he wants everyone to see us)

In the middle of it, he feels his heart start to sink. He’d thought Ozai could be satisfied, but it’s not true at all.

He’s too ambitious to be satisfied.

—

Hakoda despises the Si Wong Desert with every fiber of his being, but somehow, the passages beneath Caldera are worse. He can hardly breathe through the smoke and the stifling heat in the air, and his underclothes are soaked with sweat. The metal armor he’s wearing doesn’t help. 

The only upsides are that it’ll be over soon, and that he has not been assigned this post to fight, but instead, to talk.

“I do hope your dreadful children turn up today,” Princess Azula remarks. “I could use the entertainment.”

Hakoda is torn between never want to see them again and maybe there’s still a chance I could make them understand?

She sighs dramatically, crossing her legs on the throne. “Somehow, I doubt it… With such pathetic forces, the invasion is bound to fail spectacularly before it reaches the city gates.”

“It’s bold of the Earth Kingdom to invade us at the brink of defeat,” Hakoda agrees stiffly. He still can’t figure out what to make of Azula. Even from the beginning, when he’d hated it, he’d understood why he’d had to show deference to Fire Lord Ozai. Conqueror of Ba Sing Se or not, Azula is his own daughter’s age. He’s not used to bowing to a child.

“Oh, you think the Earth Kingdom is behind this?” Azula scoffs. Lazily, she kindles a fire in her palm. “No, the avatar and his little friends orchestrated everything. They just so happen to have allies in the Earth Kingdom.”

Out of all the firebenders Hakoda has encountered in his life, he’s never seen someone with such a pure blue flame. It unsettles him. “I… I thought he was dead,” he says before he can finish weighing the costs of even slightly undermining of the princess’s authority.

She’s bored. She’s engaging with me just to see if I’ll slip up.

“Well… yes, we never recovered the body,” Azula says coldly. “But if he reveals himself, the blame will fall on Zuko. I’ve made sure of that.”

The whole family is a fucking mess, if you ask me, Zhao had said. Ozai’s own children are subject to the same rules as the rest of nobility — constantly fighting for his favor. And it seems that Azula is firmly in the lead. Still, there’s some special treatment… none of the nobles will ever inherit the title of fire lord, so that makes it especially important for Hakoda defer to the future monarch.

And he can’t afford to drop out of the race. If he loses Ozai’s favor, it won’t take long for the Fire Nation elites to gang up on him and decide that he’s untrustworthy, just because he looks different and he’s not native-born.

“You were hired for the North Pole invasion, weren’t you?” Azula asks.

“I was,” he says.

“Once we defeat the avatar and his cronies — for real — I’m afraid you’ll fall into irrelevance,” she sighs. “Father may act as though he’s interested in your opinion, but believe me, he doesn’t care. He’ll tire of you.”

He responds with the same thing he says every time someone asks him why the fire lord would bring aboard a former Water Tribe chieftain. “I have insight that the average Fire Nation soldier does not,” he says firmly, looking straight ahead. Azula’s blatant disrespect, a stark contrast to her brother’s bumbling obedience, cements it in his mind that it’s all a game.

“Perhaps you did… But my Dai Li know far more about keeping Earth Kingdom subjects in line than you could ever hope to.” She uncrosses her legs and crosses them the other way, leaning back in the seat. “He’s only using you as bait for your children. Why else did you think he assigned you to this post?”

The flame in her palm dims, and Hakoda stands there, fuming and clutching his spear. “Why do you delight in my misfortune, Princess?” he asks through gritted teeth. He might’ve already snapped if not for the heat draining away his energy. “Have I done something to displease you?”

“I don’t delight in it, Chieftain,” she remarks. He bites his tongue at the use of his old title. “I’m warning you. My father is a fickle man. Most everyone falls out of his favor sooner or later, and considering how you’re unused to being around royalty…”

He can’t decide if she’s being earnest or not. But the thought leaves his mind as the fire in Azula’s palm fizzles out entirely.

“The eclipse is underway,” she announces. “They’ll be wise to attack in the next eight minutes.”

(what if they attack me?)

(will I be strong enough to strike back?)

He wipes the sweat from his brow. It’s useless, he knows; it’ll be back within moments. If he just counts the seconds, and keeps counting them until it’s over — but they could break through our defenses in eight minutes, and if they’re in the tunnels when the eclipse ends? We’ll have to attack them.

He counts the seconds anyway. Azula lounges on the throne as if nothing is out of the ordinary, but he aims his spear. If anyone but his children come through that door on the offensive, then he has to be ready, even with the Dai Li backing him up.

He hears footsteps outside, voices — kids’ voices. It’s hard enough to breathe in the passages as it is, but he feels as though he’s being choked when someone on the other side of the metal door rips it apart from the middle and out steps —

There are two other children there, and one must be the avatar, but he only sees one and she sees him —

He wets his lips. Somehow, his throat has gone dry, even if the rest of him is drenched in sweat.

“Hello, Katara,” he says. Her look of horror and disgust upon seeing him here like this — it ignites a nauseous, churning sensation in his gut.

“D… da…?” she stutters. She can’t even say it, she can’t even call him dad anymore.

“What’s wrong?” Azula mocks her. “You’re too good to answer your father when he speaks to you?”

“Where’s your brother?” Hakoda asks, so caught up on seeing her again that he nearly stumbles over the words. “It would be nice to have everyone back together. It’s almost been a year.”

“Sokka’s out leading the invasion against your sorry-ass army,” the third child, the earthbending girl, declares. “You think we’re gonna let you get in the way?”

“Oh, I do,” Hakoda says. The initial shock is starting to wear off, and he’s regaining his composure. Katara’s eyes betray a bleak horror, as if she can’t believe what’s right in front of her. “You’ll have to get through me before you get to the fire lord.”

“Tell us where he is before I turn this room into your coffin,” the earthbender threatens.

“Toph,” Katara warns, and Hakoda feels his first real twinge of pain since seeing her again. “Why are you doing this, Dad?” she implores.

“You abandoned me,” Hakoda says, struggling to keep his voice level when the only thing he wants to do is let that pain well up in him until it overflows—

“You left without telling me,” he says. “You disobeyed me, you drove me to this, you left me no choice—”

“No, Dad, you left us with no choice,” she retorts. Tears brim in her eyes, and a sob leaks into her voice. “We had to set right everything you had done—”

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking,” he snarls. “Everything I did, I did for our tribe, and that was how you chose to repay me? Do you know why I allied with the Fire Nation in the first place? Or did Bato neglect to mention that too?”

Sniffling, Katara shakes her head. He takes it as a sign to go on.

“We were starving, Katara. You would have starved if the Fire Nation hadn’t given us the food we needed to make it through the winter,” he says. It wasn’t half a lifetime ago, nor even a whole one. He speaks of his past life to a ghost made flesh.

“You were gone long before you ever came to the Fire Nation. You went behind our backs and betrayed us,” she accuses him. “You betrayed Mom, her memory—”

“Don’t bring your mother into this,” he hisses, raising his spear. “Don’t you think it weighed on me every single day — what she would think of my decision? But it doesn’t matter, Katara. She’s dead and it’s time you followed my lead and got the fuck over it—”

An unknown force contorts his body, like ice in his veins. He tries to swing his spear, but he’s frozen in place. With great effort, he shifts his gaze towards Katara to see her doing something to him, something furious and hateful and murderous, the raw emotions etched into her features with a chisel of pain.

Her friends rush forward into battle against Azula, and the Dai Li come to their defense. She raises her arms, and he chokes again, then she thrusts him into the ground.

He will rest well, at least, knowing that he’s done his job.

—

The invasion has been repelled, the casualty rates low, the damage to the city minimal. What he doesn’t understand, then, is why Ozai is so furious.

It soon becomes clear.

“My brother escaped his imprisonment, and Zuko has gone full traitor,” he growls. Hakoda, Zhao, Azula, and the handful of others in his inner circle cower from his wrath. “It is imperative that we recapture them before they run straight to the avatar. I want them both dead — no, all of them. Kill the avatar as well, and bring his body to me. Figure it out. We have until the comet.”

He departs with a swish of his robes and a slam of the door. A murmur bubbles up from those assembled, but Azula shushes them. “Oh, please, don’t act you didn’t see it coming.”

Truthfully, Hakoda hadn’t seen it coming… well, Zuko’s betrayal, at least. The prince had finally been welcomed back into the royal family, only to throw it all away — and for what? To join the losing side’s last-ditch attempt to win the war? As if the invasion hadn’t been a last-ditch attempt in itself. He hadn’t known the boy that well, or what could’ve been going through his head, but…

“Let them take us straight to the avatar,” he says, “and finish them then. It’ll make our job easier.” He still feels sick from his encounter with Katara. Kill them all — had that included her and Sokka, too?

The thought doesn’t give him much pause.

“Do we know for certain if they’re traveling together?” Zhao speaks up.

“Interrogate my uncle’s prison guards,” Azula demands. “Some of them must have information about his escape. And if I find out that any of them helped him, they’ll be answering directly to me.”

“I’ll conduct the interrogations, Princess,” a commander says.

“I expect them to be quick but thorough,” she replies. “Our chances for capturing them are highest if we leave within the day.”

“If you’ll allow it, I’ll lead the mission to bring Zuko to justice,” Hakoda says. 

If she’d doubted him before, she doesn’t doubt him anymore. Not after seeing how he treated Katara in those tunnels. “You may, Admiral,” she says. “As much as I would love to do it myself, I have other business to attend to. Take Admiral Zhao and his fleet with you. Non-benders won’t do you much good on the war balloons.”

—

He spends the rest of the day preparing for the voyage. Zuko, not to mention the avatar, had fled by air, so that’s how he’ll track them. Hakoda has never traveled by air before, and especially because the airship division is so new, he’s not eager to try it. It just feels unnatural, and he knows Zhao would much rather be on the ocean, too.

He interrogates the prisoners of war from the failed invasion. He’d even moved Bato to another prison to make way for them, but so far, it doesn’t seem to be paying off. Their story is the same — they had surrendered to let the avatar and the rest of the child soldiers escape on the air bison to an unknown destination.

Whenever he gets comments on his Water Tribe heritage — one man even pegs him for Sokka and Katara’s father — he lets Zhao have at them instead. He may have a shorter temper than Hakoda, but at least he doesn’t have to hear traitor traitor traitor all day.

He and Zhao quickly resort to more unsavory methods. Time is of the essence, and with every moment they waste, their targets are getting farther away. Nothing comes of it — it’s as if the prisoners have conspired to give them all wildly conflicting answers.

He abandons the prisoner interrogations. They’ve either fled back to their Earth Kingdom allies, or they’re hiding out somewhere waiting for things to blow over. That doesn’t narrow things down much.

Iroh’s prison guards prove more useful — barely. One of them reports that he had mentioned the Earth Kingdom colonies in passing, but it makes sense if he’s meeting up with an ally. It’s where Jeong Jeong had made his camp, after all. Maybe Iroh just doesn’t know that his old friend is dead.

It’s where they start their search. It goes much faster than Hakoda’s last mission in the region. Legions of foot soldiers scour the woods while he and Zhao search from the air. Perhaps realizing the futility of their method, as they can barely see through the dense tree coverage — Zhao makes a pass at him, inviting him to the privacy of the control room.

“Your wife is here,” Hakoda says. “Ask her.” He hadn’t enjoyed his time with Zhao at the estate, and he’s not eager to repeat it.

“It’s her turn to keep watch,” Zhao says, and he leans in, whispering in Hakoda's ear. “Besides… I can show you exactly what Ozai likes. I’ll demonstrate on you… then you can practice on me.”

The scenery below is the same when they come out an hour later.

“By now, Zuko’s told them all about Sozin’s Comet,” Hakoda gripes. “And it’s been long enough for them to spread our plans to all their allies.”

“What does it matter? They won’t be able to stop us anyway,” Zhao says. The green sea of the forest drifts by endlessly. Occasionally, Hakoda glimpses patches of dirt and river through the dense foliage.

“Zhao, he hasn’t read historical accounts of the comet like we have,” Nuon says. “They say it makes you feel so powerful, Hakoda.”

“Like liquid fire in your veins,” Zhao adds, clenching his fists on the railing.

“Of course, there’s the most documentation of last time it was here. That’s when Fire Lord Sozin used it to wipe out the air nomads, and it got its current name,” she continues. “Did you know it used to be called the Hundred-Year Comet? We think it’s been used in conquests since before recorded history—”

“He doesn’t want to hear fun facts about the genocide comet, Nuon,” Zhao butts in. That word (genocide) leaves Hakoda feeling vaguely cold, as if he’s coming loose from his body. He still doesn’t like the sound of it. It’s what was done to his former people — but how evil can it be if Ozai is going to build something better?

Nuon flicks Zhao on the nose. “The point is that if they’re still going to retaliate, then they’ll have to do it before the comet,” she says. “They must have some advantage we don’t know about for them to lure over two members of the royal family this late in the game.”

It’s just a turn of phrase, but he doesn’t like that she calls it a game. But that’s all it is. The games that the nobles play, the war itself.

“Why did Zuko defect?” Hakoda asks. “Iroh was locked up. He had nothing to lose, but Zuko threw away everything.” He spits it out with unexpected bitterness, like it’s a personal affront to him, not just Ozai. 

“The way I see it, if Fire Lord Ozai didn’t tell us, then it wasn’t important,” Nuon says with a shrug.

“He’s just embarrassed that little brat snubbed him and lived to tell about it,” Zhao says. “I wouldn’t be happy either.”

“He must know that Ozai wants him dead, and he decided to take the risk anyway.” Nuon shakes her head. “If he didn’t learn not to cross his father from his last punishment, then I don’t know see how there’s another way.”

Zhao releases the railing and turns to her. “Were you there for that?” he asks.

“I wish I hadn’t been. I still remember the way he screamed.” She shudders. “Just another reason I couldn’t be in the military — you know, being around people in that much pain.”

“It’s not so bad when you’re in the thick of it. There’s no time to dwell on… things like that,” Zhao replies. “Say, did we meet before or after the Agni Kai? For the life of me I can’t remember.”

“You mean you don’t remember when we first met!?” Nuon bursts out. She goes to flick his nose again, but he shoves her hand away in time.

“You were kind of… around,” he teases. “No one formally introduced us until… Lady Nari’s funeral?”

“What are you talking about?” Hakoda asks before they can get too off-topic. “There was an Agni Kai? I thought Zuko was just banished and forbidden from coming home until he’d captured the avatar.”

Nuon and Zhao stop batting at each other for long enough to stare at him incredulously. “You mean you don’t know?” Nuon asks. “It was a very public event. Most Agni Kais are pretty public — well, you haven’t been here that long, I can’t expect you to—”

“What did you think happened to Zuko’s face?” Zhao cuts in. “Ozai had to teach him a lesson about respect, but it clearly didn’t stick. That’s why we’re on our way to finish the job now.”

He’s about to ask what Zuko’s affront had been, but like so many other things, it doesn’t matter. If such harsh discipline hadn’t worked, then he can’t imagine what will. Maybe there’s no hope for some people.

Hakoda doesn’t want to do that to his own children, whenever or wherever he sees them again. But he’d tried to make them understand with reason, and it hadn’t worked. 

Then he’ll have to do it by force. He can only hope it doesn’t come down to killing them.

“And before we finish the job,” he says, “there’ll be time to teach Zuko a lesson on the other side of his face.”

—

They don’t find any of their targets in the colonies. A letter from Azula calls them elsewhere.

“Wait… Zuko broke into a prison?” Zhao asks, puzzled. “Well, that makes it too easy.”

“Why on earth…?” Nuon yanks the letter out of Zhao’s hand. “Boiling Rock? Isn’t that supposed to be really rough?”

“He thinks we’ll spare his life now that he’s turned himself in,” Zhao says. “It’s a good sign. The avatar and his allies were weaker than he expected — he’d rather take his chances with us.”

“We still have to interrogate him,” Hakoda declares. “He’ll have information about our other targets. Set our course for Boiling Rock.”

He doesn’t remember until later that it’s the prison to which he’d transferred Bato.

The next day, they land on the outer rim of the caldera and take the gondola to the island. After spending the last week in the war balloon, he’d thought he would’ve grown used to heights, but the fall into the boiling lake below would mean instant death. The steam rises, and he starts to sweat.

The warden greets him and Zhao, and explains that Zuko was caught impersonating a guard.

It only makes the whole situation stranger. “Bring me to him,” Hakoda says. Something is wrong here.

—

In a ratty prison uniform and tied to a chair in his cell, Zuko does not look like a prince. Not that he is one anymore, or that he’d ever deserved the title to begin with. He is a scared, angry child, and children are defiant, but they are easier to break.

“What are you doing here, Zuko?” Hakoda asks. “You didn’t come here to turn yourself in.”

“It’s none of your business,” he spits.

“It’s very much my business.” Hakoda sits down across from him. “Your father assigned me to track you down. You must know he wants you dead, and maybe I can still stop him from ordering your execution if you just tell me what I want to know.”

His gaze briefly flits over Hakoda’s, but he refuses to hold eye contact. “I’d rather die a prisoner than serve him again.”

“See, that’s another thing I’m curious about,” Hakoda muses. A stain on the ceiling leaks a mysterious brown liquid, dripping into the corner. The prison cell smells of human waste. “He gave you back everything you wanted — and you threw it away again. Especially after the lesson he taught you…”

Hakoda reaches forward to touch Zuko’s scar. His hand slides over Zuko’s eye, fitting over the burn almost perfectly until Zuko flinches and jerks his head away.

“…You’d think you would’ve learned to respect him.”

“I did learn something,” Zuko breathes. The violation only leaves him angrier, spitting fire out of his nostrils. “I learned he didn’t deserve my respect. And you — you’re almost as bad as he is. Sokka dreaded the chance he’d see you—”

Zuko stops abruptly, realizing he’s slipped up, and Hakoda smiles. “So he’s with you,” he says slowly. “Why don’t you tell me more? Have the avatar and his friends infiltrated the prison, too?”

“It’s just him,” Zuko says. “The others don’t even know we’re here — they must be long gone now — somewhere else.”

Hakoda shakes his head. It doesn’t matter if Zuko is lying. He’ll be able to identify them. “Tell me, Zuko, why break into a prison? What can you possibly plan to accomplish here?”

“You’re not getting that out of me.”

“If I don’t get it from you, then your sister will have to,” he says. It has the intended effect. — his good eye goes wide, and he physically recoils as if Hakoda has touched his scar again.

“Oh, yes. She’s here,” he continues. “You’re stupid, Zuko, giving up your allies with the smallest provocation — but you’re smart enough to cooperate. You don’t want me to bring Azula in to interrogate you.”

A long pause — Zuko appears to be in a silent debate with himself. The brown water drips down from the ceiling. “Then do it,” he says. “I won’t talk to someone who betrayed his own children.”

Hakoda stands up, halting with one hand on the door handle. “‘Betrayal,’ ‘traitor…’ I’m so tired of those words,” he says, looking over his shoulder. “Aren’t you?”

“I’m not a traitor!” Zuko shouts, straining against his bonds.

Hakoda opens the door to leave. “Neither am I.”

—

He puts Zhao in charge of picking out Sokka from the masses of guards. “Line up all the men and inspect them. Anyone with blue eyes, pull him aside and I’ll get back to him later,” he instructs.

In the meantime, Azula carries out her interrogation, and Hakoda has Bato moved to solitary confinement in the impenetrable depths of the basement. The prison has just retired “the cooler” after it was unbolted and used as a raft in a recent escape attempt, but for a Water Tribe prisoner, the heat underground is far more unbearable than the ice.

“Just when I thought I’d never have to see you again,” Bato remarks.

Hakoda brushes past the comment. “You wouldn’t happen to be involved in an escape plan, would you?”

He gestures to his cell. “Well, if I was, I’m not now.”

“I’m going to ask again.” There’s not much room to pace in the tiny cell, but he manages a few steps. “Has Sokka been to visit you about an escape plan?”

“Why do you want to know that? What are you going to do?”

“He’s being picked out of a lineup of guards as we speak. Anything you tell me now will decrease the severity of your punishment — and his.”

Hakoda wipes the sweat off his upper lip. He has faced Zuko, Bato, and Katara — but he has not yet faced Sokka, and he is not looking forward to it.

“How am I supposed to trust you to be true to your word?”

Hakoda squats, getting level with him. When he puts out a hand to balance himself, the floor is uncomfortably hot. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Fine. He came here to get me. Is that what you want to hear?”

“The plan, Bato,” he prompts.

“Using the cooler to escape was his idea, but the other prisoners overheard and wanted in. He didn’t have a backup plan,” he says.

“You said you didn’t know me anymore… I imagine he’ll think the same,” Hakoda says. It’s a good thing, one that gives him an advantage over his friends turned enemies. “But I still know him. He’ll be plotting something.”

—

When Hakoda emerges from the basement, Zhao has three blue-eyed guards for him. Two of them are easily dismissed. The other is Sokka.

“Hey, Dad,” he says timidly. His hands tremor, and he won’t look his father in the eye.

“Sokka,” Hakoda acknowledges him stiffly. “Would you like to tell me what you’re doing infiltrating a maximum security Fire Nation prison?”

Sokka laughs nervously. “Uh… no?”

He clenches his jaw. “I’ll let your insolence slide this once — perhaps I shouldn’t have phrased it as a question when it was a demand. Let me try again: tell me what you’re doing here.”

He shrugs, sweating like he’s already down in the basement. “Me and Zuko thought it would be a fun vacation?”

Hakoda grabs him by the collar of his ill-fitting guard uniform, and Sokka shrieks and writhes. “This isn’t a time for jokes! I don’t want to throw you in the dungeon to rot, but I will if I have to — if nothing else gets through to you—”

A guard — a real one — skids over to the gondola platform in a frantic rush. At first, Hakoda thinks he’s going to pry him away from Sokka for some sort of breach in protocol, but Hakoda outranks everyone here except for Zhao and the warden himself, and he can do whatever he wishes.

“Um, Admirals, we’ve got a situation down in the yard,” the guard pants. Hakoda releases Sokka for a split second — and it’s long enough for Sokka to make a break for it.

“Hey!” he screams. Zhao blasts fire at Sokka, succeeding only in forcing Hakoda to skid to a halt to avoid the blaze. Hakoda swears at both of them — his friend’s idiocy, his son’s slipperiness, and Hakoda bolts after him into the prison. 

For a moment, he’s still in hot pursuit, losing ground fast (he’s grown so much since last time more a man than a boy) until Sokka rounds a corner and disappears completely. An alarm reverberates through the halls, but the bloc is eerily empty and otherwise silent, devoid of both prisoners and guards.

The guard, still gasping for air, comes up behind him and starts to speak again, but Hakoda yells at him. “There’s a situation in the yard? Then deal with it,” he barks. “I lost the infiltrator because of you!”

Zhao passes the row of cells on the opposite side of the room. “He’ll be heading for the basement,” Hakoda shouts. “Make sure he doesn’t get there.”

Zhao peels off, but when Hakoda rounds the corner, he regrets making the call. Sokka is nowhere to be found.

He can’t have gotten far he’s got to be here somewhere, Hakoda thinks, his mind racing as fast as his heart. Hiding in the cells waiting for me to pass him?

Hakoda doesn’t have a set of keys. But chances are, Zhao never confiscated Sokka’s.

He hears a door open on the level above him, and he barely has time to react before Zuko swings over the railing and sweeps his legs out from under him.

Hakoda hits the ground hard. He’s too stunned to struggle free when Zuko twists an arm behind his back and puts a knee to his head.

“What do I do with him? Should we take him prisoner?”

Footsteps grow closer, and Hakoda bucks furiously against Zuko’s grip. “This isn’t part of the plan!” Sokka says.

“Does Suki have the warden?”

“Let go of me, you little shit!” Hakoda screams, his voice muffled by the floor.

They both ignore his cries, which only further incenses him. “I don’t know!” Sokka says. “But I’m going after Bato. We can’t leave without him.”

“Where is he?” Zuko snaps. “I know you’ve been to see him.”

“Fuck you,” Hakoda spits.

Zuko grabs him by the chin and tilts his face up. “We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way,” he threatens. His hand is warm, hot, burning against Hakoda’s cheek—

“The basement,” Hakoda spits out, and the heat dies. “You’ll have to get past Zhao first.”

“Well,” Zuko remarks. “That shouldn’t be much of a challenge.”

Sokka eyes Hakoda warily, taken aback by the vitriol in his father’s gaze. “Are we taking him?”

“It’s your call,” Zuko says.

Sokka hesitates. “Maybe there’s something still… good in him. He just needs to be away from the Fire Nation, and…” Somberly, he makes his decision. “Bring him.”

He throws one last wistful glance at Hakoda before running off towards the basement. Meanwhile, Zuko binds his wrists behind his back and tears a piece of fabric from his uniform to shove in his mouth. “If it were me, you’d be on your knees begging for forgiveness before I’d even consider it,” Zuko hisses. “Count yourself lucky.”

—

Hakoda spends the gondola ride on the floor, listening to shouted commands and battle cries and the fight raging on the rooftop. The gondola swings back and forth precariously as Azula and her allies face off with Zuko, Sokka, Bato, some other prisoners, and the girl, Suki.

The warden doesn’t cut the line and send them all plunging into the boiling lake. He can only assume it’s because Hakoda’s too important to sacrifice. He’s on a mission directly from the fire lord, after all. A man of such caliber will resist the enemy’s charms, and, sooner or later, find a way to turn the situation in his favor, ultimately succeeding in his initial task.

This is the thought, bubbling to the surface through the stew of madness and outrage, that keeps him from snapping. Maybe, if he could get the dirty rag out of his mouth, he’d yell at them to cut the line himself.

But they’ll take Hakoda directly to his other targets. Cut the line, and the trail is lost.

That, or Sokka is the last part of him that he can’t bring himself to kill.

—

At some point during the ride out on the stolen war balloon, he screams himself into exhaustion, the gag silencing most of his cries. He’s barely conscious, more a collection of white-hot rage and dying adrenaline than a person, when Sokka comes to visit him.

“Hey, Dad,” he says. Through bleary eyes, Hakoda shifts his head to glance up at him. He’s changed out of the guard uniform, dressed in tribal blues. “Been a long time, huh?”

Awkwardly, he rubs the back of his neck. Hakoda hasn’t been unbound, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway, not with the pain and fatigue seeping into his very bones.

“Bato says nothing I do will change your mind. He told me not to come talk to you,” he says. He stares at the wall, past Hakoda, and shakes his head. “I don’t believe him. I mean, I don’t want to.”

He pauses. His eyes flit over Hakoda’s, then dart away like he’s seen something he’s not supposed to.

“If you changed so much to get like you are now, then you can change back. That’s what I want to think, anyway.”

Propellers thrum in the background. He can’t tell how long it’s been, where they’re going, or how far they’ve come; there’s no window in the closet-sized compartment they threw him into.

“Do you remember how it was before, Dad?”

He tries to say something past the gag, but Sokka either doesn’t hear him, or ignores him. It stokes the embers of his anger, disrespect on top of disrespect.

“You used to take us sledding… When the snow was hard-packed, we would go so fast I thought we’d never slow down. You’d sit behind me and hold me so I wouldn’t fall out, and we’d both be too out of breath from screaming and laughing to go back up the hill. Katara would always win when we raced, and I’d get so mad and call her a cheater. But when I’d go against you… I didn’t realize at the time that you were crashing on purpose so I could win, but…” He laughs sadly, his whole upper body shaking. “I felt like if I could beat you, I could do anything.”

He smiles, staring at something in the distance, eyes unfocused.

“Remember when you taught me how to fish? I was so bored, but I kept at it because you were there. And — I wanted you to be proud of me.” He sniffles, his voice breaking a little. “I always thought you’d be proud of me for what I’m doing now. It’s just like — it’s just like all those times you protected the tribe when the Fire Nation was on our shores, in our village— Even when Mom died, I never felt like I was in danger, because you guys were there to keep us safe.”

He turns away, like it’s too painful to look. And it is. Hakoda can’t look either; he clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth to block out the sound of Sokka starting to sob.

“I wanted to be just like you,” Sokka forces out. “I don’t understand — I don’t understand how it ended up like this.”

Hakoda squeezes his eyes shut. I shouldn’t have to choose. I shouldn’t have to choose between all that the Fire Nation has given me and the love of my family — he wants to understand, maybe I can still get through to him—

“Bato says I shouldn’t ask you that ‘cause you’d just blame us for what you did,” Sokka says. By the sound of his voice, he’s regained some of his composure, but when Hakoda glances up at him, tears stain his face, welling in his eyes. “I — I get that you thought it was the right thing. That you — you did it for us. And it wasn’t easy for you. And I’m sorry we left without telling you. We’re both sorry — the opportunity just came up, and we didn’t have the time to think it through — I wish we could’ve told you. I wish things could’ve been different. ‘Cause when it comes down to it, we just… we miss you. We miss you, and we want our dad back.”

Hakoda tries to speak, and gingerly, Sokka removes the gag. There are countless things he could say — he could yell and berate Sokka for his disrespect, his disobedience, his betrayal — he could give in, accept the offering of forgiveness (if that’s what this is)

But he’s just tired.

“I… I miss you too,” he admits, his eyes shut. It’s painful enough to look at him, painful enough to hear him and speak to him — he can’t do both at once. “And I wish things could’ve been different… but this is how they are. Even if I were to explain everything I’ve done and everything I’ve been through — you wouldn’t understand, Sokka. You’re just a child.”

He feels a tear slide down his cheek. “You don’t know how it feels to have everyone you love turn against you just because you — you made a mistake when you tried to help them. And the Fire Nation — you might not want to believe it, but they’re trying to help us, Sokka. They were there when everyone else turned their backs on me. And they’ll be there to reclaim me when we land. And when they come, I’m going home with them.

“I do remember how things were, Sokka,” he says. “It’s a shame they can never be that way again.”

—

When the ship lands in the ruins of an Air Temple, Bato escorts him out, and he goes with his head down and his eyes up.

Katara catches his eye as he walks, and she looks away in disgust. The other children sit around the campfire, chatting and eating, and then they pass out of his vision when Sokka directs them to a room within the temple.

Bato ties him to the bed frame and watches him feebly tug at his bindings.

“I have nothing to say to you anymore,” Bato says. “Sokka thinks you can still be redeemed. I don’t want to hurt him more than you already have, but he should know how far you’ve fallen.”

He leaves. Hakoda’s anger has long since burnt out, and he gives in to his exhaustion.

He wakes to the sound of commotion — the shouting of soldiers and children, the crackling of fire, the rumbling and crashing of stone. Disoriented, he strains against his bonds, fearing that he’ll be buried alive.

Sokka comes for him before the Fire Nation can breach their defenses. “Dad, we have to go, it’s your last chance to leave with us,” he cries over the chaos. As if assuming that Hakoda will join him, he begins to cut through the binds holding him to the bed frame.

Hakoda lets him do it. He entertains the possibility, but he made up his mind long ago. As soon as he’s free, he bolts past Sokka. 

“Dad—” Sokka grabs his arm as he slows down to take in the scene. “Please don’t go back to them—” he begs, close to tears, desperate—

He looks Sokka in the eye. Now that he’s prepared for it, it’s not so hard. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” he says. He pushes Sokka’s hand away. “But this is how it is.”

He makes for the Fire Nation airship rising out of the chasm, closing the gap in a few short seconds. Zhao, Azula, and Nuon will be waiting for him.

He does not look back.

—

When Ozai ties him to the bed and blindfolds him, he can’t help but to remember his brief stint as a hostage mere days earlier.

But it isn’t even close to the same thing. The fact that he’s powerless before the fire lord, subject to his every whim — he can’t remember being this turned on by anyone else.

“What would you like me to do, Admiral?” comes Ozai’s voice from beyond the blindfold. Fingers, wet with lubricant, trail across his abdomen, his thigh, stopping just shy of his cock.

I’ll do anything you want

“Hurt me,” he whispers instead. Ozai cups his sac, and fear and arousal shoot through him in equal parts. “Hurt me, and call me a good boy when I can take the pain.”

Ozai doesn’t hesitate to squeeze him until he screams and writhes. When he lets up, Hakoda is panting and shaking, as immobilized by his agony as he is by the bindings. He feels Ozai lie next to him, caressing his neck and kissing his cheek as the pain starts to subside.

“You’ve been so strong for me, Admiral,” he murmurs right against Hakoda’s hot skin. “It’s rare to find someone like you… So many difficult decisions… it couldn’t have been easy for you to keep choosing the right thing, but you did, and you’re being rewarded…”

His foot slides up Hakoda’s leg, heel finding his sac and pressing down harder and harder until it becomes almost unbearable — But Ozai is there for him, arms wrapped around his chest to keep him steady as the pain gets worse — he’s there for me he’s the only one there for me through all of this

“Yes, you’ve been so good, so strong,” he whispers. “All the sacrifices you’ve made for me would’ve broken a lesser man.”

(am I broken and this is what it looks like)

He removes his foot. Tears roll past the blindfold and down Hakoda’s cheeks; Ozai wipes them away.

“Shall I again?”

Hakoda nods. 

Ozai stamps on him, digging his toes in. He howls in pain, whole body contorting, and climaxes all over his own thighs, the bed, Ozai’s foot. 

“Good boy,” Ozai whispers, and kisses his temple, just above the blindfold. “You’re such a good boy… You can take whatever I give you.” Hakoda lays there in his arms and waits for the pain to recede, focusing on the way his fingers feel running through his hair, his warm breath, the rhythm of his breathing.

A long moment of silence passes; they simply lie together, enjoying each other’s company.

“Do you love me, Ozai?” he asks.

The fingers threading through his hair stop moving, and a dismal pit starts to form in his stomach.

“Because I love you.”

He says it like he’s pleading, the panic spreading through him worse than any of the pain of before. Dammit this isn’t what I meant when I said to hurt me do you think I’m pathetic do you think I’m just a toy — oh la they were right they were all right he’ll discard me once he can’t use me anymore

“Yes,” Ozai says.

It’s not a convincing response. The pause is too long, the tone uncertain, uncommitted.

But it’s good enough.

He cannot see Ozai’s expression through the blindfold. 

He breathes an exhale of relief. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

—

The comet is a gash in the sky, and the sky is bleeding.

“I want you to lead the airship fleet when we invade the Earth Kingdom,” Ozai says. “The avatar and his allies are still at large, and if they try to stop us…”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to bring them down,” Hakoda pledges. He wants so badly to lean in and kiss the fire lord (no, the Phoenix King), but they are in public, and the coronation is about to start. If Ozai wants his affection, he’ll be the one to initiate it. 

“I’ll see you after it’s over,” Ozai says. There’s a light, a joy in his eyes incongruent with the seriousness of what they’re about to undertake.

Maybe it’s because I’m here with him —

— or maybe it’s because of comet’s the liquid fire in his veins

He doesn’t dwell on the reason behind it; for now, it’s enough just to see him happy. He’s convinced that Ozai is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, not that he had thought anything of the sort when they’d first met.

That harsh winter and his desperate deal are faded memories now, and all those feelings of animosity have melted away as Hakoda has learned the truth. About him, about the Fire Nation.

“I’ll see you,” he echoes. He wants to tell Ozai to be safe, to be careful, but he knows he’s worrying too much. If the avatar shows up, he’ll be an inconvenience at best. Ozai is among the most powerful firebenders in the world, and the comet amplifies his strength tenfold. The avatar may be evasive, but if he’s made to stand and fight, it’ll be no contest.

Ozai permits him to kiss the back of his hand before they part ways. The ceremony commences, and Ozai declares himself Phoenix King.

Hakoda couldn’t be prouder. They’re going to burn it all down and rebuild something better, and they’re going to do it together. It’s what they did with the south pole, the north pole, with Hakoda’s whole life. And it’ll hurt, but it’ll be worth it, in the end.

Because Ozai loves him.

—

The flat expanse of ocean ripples below him. In the comet’s glow, it looks all wrong, more brown than blue. The light refracts differently, in a way that he can’t quite put into words. And the sky — he’s never seen it like this, tinting the world red with blood and fire. When he ventures onto the top of the balloon, he can spot the comet in the distance, burning and streaking through the upper reaches of the atmosphere.

It’s beautiful. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think it to be a vengeful spirit, crashing down to earth to cleanse it of those it deemed unworthy.

Ozai’s imperial ship is off in the distance, leading the fleet, but Hakoda’s is at the center of the V-formation behind him. Zhao and his fleet are off elsewhere, attacking regional centers of power like Omashu, and Azula is holding down the home front. 

A few minutes ago, they’d lifted off from a refueling station, a little island not far from the Earth Kingdom. It quickly dwindles into a pinprick as they regain altitude, and Hakoda sets his sights for the coast.

Ozai has already reached it. Even at such a distance, he can feel the air heat as the wave of fire blossoms from the bow of the airship. He’s watched Ozai firebend before, but this puts it all to shame. The forest ignites; smoke and ash billow and swirl from its charred remains.

The display before him is more than masterful. To wipe clean the slate of a whole planet and build a new one from its ashes is not something a mere human could do — it’s godlike, Ozai is a god, and the war against the other nations is over, they’ll turn to the spirit world and win. 

It only makes Hakoda love him more, but it also puzzles him, incenses him — how could someone refuse to respect such awesome power?

He’s so caught up in the spectacle that by the time he notices the other airship careening towards him, all he can do is brace for the impact.

Metal screams against metal, and Hakoda flies across the room, slamming into the wall. The airship starts to tip, and he scrambles clumsily to his feet to grab at the control panel and right it. The horrible screeching stops, and he looks out the opposite window to see the rogue airship grazing the next one in the formation.

After he sets the ship back on course, temporarily, at least — he stumbles out of the control room to command his subordinates. “You,” he shouts; he doesn’t even remember the man’s name if he ever learned it in the first place. He doesn’t know any of their names. The soldier is lying slumped on the floor, dazed, but it doesn’t stop Hakoda from assigning him a task. “Get the maintenance team and check the damage. And you, Lieutenant!”

The lieutenant has pulled off his mask, busy puking on the floor. “Give me — give me —” he stutters, doubling over to hurl up again. “—one moment—”

Hakoda grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him up. “We don’t fucking have a moment! Figure out who’s behind this!”

He knows that the nameless soldiers only respect him because Ozai has ordered their obedience, and he can deal with it most of the time, because Ozai’s opinion is the only one that matters. But when it impedes the efficiency of his fleet in the middle of battle—

Hakoda shoves him away and returns to the control room. The airship is still on course, now sailing over the charred forest. For a long, blind moment, they pass through a cloud of smoke, and it bites at his eyes, the stench wafting inside.

When they come out on the other side, the blackened bark and dead branches are gone. The landscape has turned to craggy peaks, stony spires—

—and Ozai’s airship is gone.

Hakoda scans for it desperately, and he spots a heap of burning scrap metal wrecked among the rock spires—

—nonono he can’t have crashed—

—he has to be okay

From one of the spires below, three plumes of flame burst forth.

It can only be him look at the power of that fire it can only be him

It occurs to him that the avatar has destroyed Ozai’s airship and infiltrated the rest of the fleet. And where the avatar goes, Hakoda’s children are likely to follow. 

He won’t fuck it up this time. He won’t let himself get caught up in the emotion of seeing them again, because he’s already said all that needs to be said, done all that can be done. He won’t let himself be taken hostage again. He won’t let himself be tempted by the way things used to be.

He won’t show mercy. He has a job to do, and nothing will get in his way.

Outside the control room, one of his men screams, and something clatters and thunks to the floor.

Hakoda draws his sword. The door bursts open, and Sokka stands there, hands on his knees, panting. His hair has been badly singed, and he’s clearly exhausted, at the end of his rope.

It’ll be an easy victory.

He doesn’t even look surprised to see Hakoda standing there, but it doesn’t stop the pain from visibly washing over him.

“I’m going to warn you one last time, Sokka,” he says. He has prepared for this. “If you try to commandeer this ship, I’ll have to kill you.”

Sokka doesn’t back off. If anything, the threat puts the hard gleam of determination in his eyes, though it’s not without sadness.

“Fight me like a man,” Hakoda snaps. He settles into a fighting stance. “Go on, draw your weapon.”

“No,” Sokka says firmly. Having caught his breath, he stands up, but he’s wary, poised to run. “I won’t fight you.”

“Of course not,” Hakoda scoffs, shaking his head. “You’ve never had any respect for me. Why would you start now?”

“I don’t believe you would really hurt me.”

Hakoda lunges forward and slashes him across his face. Sokka screams, stumbling back, and clutches at his wound and the blood is all over his hands and reality seems to come loose as Hakoda kicks him in the chest and sends him sprawling across the floor, about to deliver the final blow—

A chunk of metal bowls him over. He hits the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs, and when he grabs for his sword, the metal golem bends the blade in half. Through it all, Sokka is still shrieking and crying, and Hakoda’s ears are ringing and he can’t breathe—

The metal casing breaks open to reveal a girl dropping to her knees at Sokka’s side.

Another airship smashes into them.

The whole balloon rocks and begins to tip again. Hakoda forces himself up, scrambling past Sokka and the girl and into the main room. The rock spires go on for miles, and there’s no way to land without risking death. He doesn’t have time to finish Sokka — the only thing he can think to do is save himself—

(Ozai said he’d see me after it was over)

The ladder to the roof is nearly sideways, and they’re losing altitude fast. Other soldiers lie slumped against the walls, injured or unconscious, but he doesn’t care, he wouldn’t save them even if there was the time. His feet slip on the rungs as he climbs, his palms slick with sweat.

The roof is vertical by the time he reaches the hatch, and the rock spires are dangerously close.

He said he’d see me after it was over—

He ducks back inside. Sokka is staggering and lurching along the wall like a drunkard and there’s so much blood—

The girl is ripping a hole in the side of the airship, formulating the exact right moment to jump.

He said…

Sokka turns to look right at him, a bloody, one-eyed stare. It’s a look of sorrow and uncertainty, like some part of him still wants to save Hakoda and the other part of him knows that his father is already long dead.

I’m never going to see him again.

Sokka and the girl vanish through the gap, and the next instant the airship drives into the ground. 

Hakoda only has time for one more thought before his flesh incinerates, his bones shatter, and his organs mangle:

I’ve failed him.

—FIN—