Modern AU A:tLA/Aladdin fusion thing, with a heavy dose of mermaids. Don't ask where it came from, just be glad it's here. You're welcome.

(Also, due to the fact that I wanted to keep this fic light, I cut Ozai out completely. Thus no scar.)

Crossing the River

It wasn't fair.

Prince Zuko gazed out of his bedroom window, relishing the view he had over the vast and beautiful expanse of the kingdom laid out before him. He watched the servants tending to the gardens below him, the guards posted outside the palace gates as they flirted with passersby; he even spared time to stare at the distant snapshot of the ordinary townspeople's lives as they busied themselves around the morning market near the palace, buying groceries and… doing whatever it was peasants did in their free time.

He envied them.

Perhaps not the threadbare clothing, the stifling atmosphere of the crowded plaza, or the way they desperately counted out each penny they could find in their worn pockets… but he couldn't truthfully say that the rich and pampered royal lifestyle was something to dream about.

"Prince Zuko?"

He started at the sound of his uncle's cheerful voice, cutting sharply through the delicate silence of his bedroom. "Yes, Uncle?"

"It is time for breakfast!"

"I'll be right down," he called, wondering idly what strange foreign delicacies his uncle had imported this week. It was an odd hobby, a quirk of his uncle's, but Zuko supposed it was a welcome change from the usual bland meals they served in this part of the ocean.

He regretfully left the window seat, swimming languidly over to his wardrobe to find a shirt. He couldn't very well wander the palace halls half-dressed. After pulling on something red and sleeveless, he quickly pulled his hair up into a topknot, deciding to forgo the flame crown and its difficult fastening mechanism. It was only breakfast with his uncle, after all. Iroh wouldn't mind.

By the time Zuko reached the small dining room, reserved solely for the royal family and their personal guests, Iroh was already seated and enthusiastically heaping a serving of something strange and green onto his plate. Iroh glanced up at the sound of the door, and the twinkle in his eye spread to his mouth, widening it into a welcoming grin. "Good morning, nephew! Did you sleep well?"

Zuko shrugged as he took his seat opposite his uncle. "Reasonably. Did you?"

"Very well, thank you!" Iroh laughed heartily, and an explosion of bubbles left his mouth. "I had the most amusing dream. I was down at the market…"

Zuko smiled slightly as his uncle launched into a detailed tale about the marketplace, the dancing fish and the tsungi horn. He eyed the strange seaweed-like substance in the serving bowl, and quickly decided he was too hungry to worry about what exactly he was eating. If Iroh liked it, it couldn't be that bad. He scooped some onto his plate and took a modest mouthful.

He wished he hadn't.

He wheezed out a chuckle when Iroh reached the dramatic climax of his humorous tale, barely resisting the urge to hurl. Instead, he forced down the food and coughed a little. "Uncle?" he ventured tentatively.

"Yes?" Iroh had managed to finish the entire plate of the horrid seaweed, and was now helping himself to seconds.

Zuko cleared his throat. "What exactly is… this?" He gestured to his plate.

"Ah, yes," Iroh grinned. "I had it imported from the far south. The nice man referred to it as sea prunes. Do you like it?"

"Um."

Iroh guffawed. "Do not force yourself, nephew. I understand it's an acquired taste."

Zuko heaved a heavy sigh.

Iroh had kindly let Zuko raid the food cupboard after that. Zuko had taken the morsels upstairs, as Iroh had Sea Lord duties to attend to, and once again found himself at the window, wishing that for once he could roam the outside world – not just stroll through the palace gardens or be carried through the upper-class streets in a palanquin.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. A dangerous, troublesome thought…

Before he was even aware of it, Zuko was digging through his drawers and wardrobe in an attempt to find his poorest-looking article of clothing. Iroh had mentioned that he would be busy in official meetings until the evening, and with Azula away on vacation, there was no one around to catch him in the act. He'd always been rather good at sneaking around unnoticed (his thirteen-year-old self and the incident in the wine cellar could attest to that), and it wasn't like he was planning to do anything dangerous. Just wander the streets a little. See his kingdom from the eyes of his own people.

He found a dull maroon shirt at the back of his wardrobe; still of very fine quality, but not very flashy. He stripped off his current tank and pulled on the shirt – high collar, short sleeves. A brief glance in the mirror persuaded him to take out the topknot so that silky black tresses fell over his eyes, and then, just to be safe, he encompassed himself in a brown robe. He tugged on the hood, pulling it down self-consciously.

Almost unrecognisable.

He shoved the window open as quietly as he could, double-checking for servants or guards before he pushed through it, gliding swiftly and silently over the palace walls and into a nearby alley.

He waited there for a few minutes, out of sight of the town, ears pricked for any alarmed shouts regarding his escape. None came. Eventually he decided he was safe, and he slipped out into the streets.

If he'd thought the view was amazing from his bedroom window, then what he was seeing now was simply staggering.

Shops and stalls and houses, winding bedrock streets and people tucked in alleys and niches and limestone buildings curling gracefully above him. Peasants swimming left and right, up and down, all around; each busy in their own private world and each so shockingly different from anyone he'd ever seen before.

An irritable man pushed past him, and Zuko stumbled a little in shock – back in the palace, no one would have dared to even touch him without his permission, let alone shove him out of the way like he was meaningless.

Surprisingly, he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed. Out here, he was one of them, and they treated him as such.

The thought was both humbling, and so very freeing.

A grin threatened to split his face in half, and he swam off with gusto towards the center of the market. He'd brought a little money with him – not too much, not enough to seem suspicious – with the intention of buying himself a souvenir of his trip outside. But now that he was here, surrounded on all sides by what seemed like an endless market selling anything anyone would ever need, he was quite lost as to where to start.

He ended up spending a good hour simply wandering through the market, eyeing up every object, every detail of his environment. Why had he never thought of doing this before?

A street sign caught his attention: "Come to Aunt Wu's grand fortune-telling extravaganza",it read, alongside an arrow pointing upwards. Zuko followed it with his eyes, and then with his body as he swam up and up until he reached the very top of the towering mismatch of buildings. It wasn't hard to spot, despite its small size – the walls were painted a deep purple, and a large sign hung next to the door, announcing it as Aunt Wu's Realm of the Future.

Zuko hesitated; entering random buildings, especially small, secluded ones claiming to tell the future, was not a particularly smart move. But before he could let his doubt and self-preservation instincts reel him away, the door opened and out came a young couple, holding slips of paper and looking very pleased. He moved to let them pass, and decided that perhaps Aunt Wu wasn't as dodgy as she initially sounded.

He slowly pushed open the door, letting his eyes adjust to the dark surroundings. Another bad sign. He very nearly turned and left, but then someone drew back a curtain in the far corner to reveal a middle-aged woman sitting at a table, lit by a small lantern hanging overhead.

When she spoke, her voice was soft and welcoming. "You wish to know your future?"

Why the hell not, Zuko thought, and let himself be drawn to the table. He nodded.

Aunt Wu smiled at him. "May I see your hands?"

Zuko blinked, but held them out to her, palms up, and tried not to flinch when she laid her hands on his.

She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath, and Zuko swallowed down his skepticism and tried his best to just go with it.

They remained that way for over a minute before Aunt Wu finally expelled the breath and gradually opened her eyes.

She regarded him knowingly, and for a moment Zuko was puzzled by the odd expression – but then realisation struck him. She knows.

Shit.

"Do not fret," she said quietly, finally releasing his hands.

He shoved them under the table, and chose to stay silent. What he didn't say couldn't hurt him. Hopefully.

She cracked a smile. "Your future is intruiging."

This caught Zuko's attention, and he momentarily forgot to be worried about the secret of his identity being in jeopardy. "What do you mean?"

"The spirits will grant your wish," she explained (though it's really no explanation at all), "though perhaps… not in the way you quite expect."

Zuko stared. What?

Aunt Wu suddenly reached down, and from under the table brought out a box. There was a hole in the middle of the lid. "Take one," She said, and slid the box across the table.

He paused for a moment in confusion, before reaching towards the box and pushing his hand through the hole. He could feel scraps of paper, and realised that this is what the young couple had been holding when they left the shop. Zuko grabbed one at random and pulled out his hand.

Aunt Wu stood to bow, and Zuko echoed her movements. She murmured, "May the spirits guide you."

"Um, thanks," Zuko mumbled as he turned to leave.

Shutting the door behind him, he let out a sigh of relief, and felt his muscles relax. The tension in the room had been almost unbearable. And what did Aunt Wu mean, exactly, about his wish being granted? What even was his wish? He blew out an angry sigh, forming a foam of bubbles in front of him.

He suddenly remembered he was still holding the scrap of paper, and he unrolled it, letting his eyes skim the words.

Look up towards the future.

Zuko blinked, his brow furrowing in frustrated confusion. 'Look up towards the future'? What sort of cryptic bullshit was this? What was it supposed to mean?

And so, since he'd always been a literal kind of guy, Zuko tilted back his head, and looked up.

There was a shadow on the surface.

What the…?

It was just a tiny shadow, a small dark speck set against the blue sunlit backdrop, but it was definitely there. He couldn't resist. He swam towards it, his heart beating faster as he realised the speck was looming larger and larger above him – it took him a good ten minutes, and when Zuko was nearly at the surface he spared a glance back down.

He could barely see the city at all.

He pushed aside the shock and spark of fear in his gut – I never realised we were so deep underwater – and focused back on the speck. Although, it was really far less of a speck now, easily as big as the grand dining hall back at the palace, and it shadowed him threateningly.

Zuko wondered if anyone had even been to the surface before. There were rumours and legends told, of course, of the land people – people like them, who lived outside the oceans and walked on land with legs, and couldn't breathe the water – and Iroh had entertained him with tales and picture books about them when his younger self couldn't sleep for fear of the monster under his bed. But Zuko had always assumed they were just a myth, and Iroh had never told him otherwise.

Something cut into his left side, and Zuko tried to pull away, but it seemed the more he struggled against the strange net, the more tangled he became. Panic rose in his chest and pushed into his lungs. He was still kicking, even as the wires pulled him up, up, up towards the surface, and then he broke the water, and the sudden emptiness surrounding him was enough of a shock to halt his struggles.

He was tangled helplessly, and felt sick to his stomach. There was a rough, hard pressure all along the left side of his body, and Zuko realised he was lying down. He opened his eyes, and the sunlight was startling – never had he seen it so bright – but he somehow managed to make out the wooden panels underneath him.

"What the fuck?"

Zuko lurched upright at the unfamiliar voice, swivelling wildly around in an attempt to locate it.

He froze when he finally laid eyes on him. There was a man about his age, dressed in the most bizarre clothes Zuko had ever seen, and he looked as if he was about to keel over from shock. Zuko's eyes travelled lower, to his waist and below, and almost couldn't believe what he was seeing.

This man had no tail.

This man had legs.

Sokka couldn't believe it. It didn't make sense. He tried to tell himself, kept repeating in his head like a mantra This doesn't make sense but no matter how many times he told himself that he just couldn't deny what his own senses were screaming at him.

There was a mermaid on his boat.

He really thought he was going to pass out – he really did – but he somehow managed to sit down and put his head between his knees before he fell overboard from shock.

He could feel the mermaid still staring at him from across the deck (although now that Sokka thought about it, it looked more like a merman than a mermaid) but he wasn't moving, so for now Sokka could just close his eyes and pretend this wasn't happening.

Breathe in. Exhale. There are no mermen on this boat.

Absolutely no mermen whatsoever.

"Who are you?"

Sokka's heart nearly jumped out of his chest and he couldn't help but look up – look up at the merman – when he heard the voice. It was raspy and masculine but not particularly deep and from the look of his face Sokka would guess he couldn't be much older than himself.

Although who knew, really. Maybe mermen aged at a different rate and the deceptively young man was really five hundred years old.

Okay, Sokka thought in an attempt to steady himself. Stop thinking crazy things. This is obviously a party costume. Though why anyone would be wearing a party costume at noon on a Tuesday in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, he couldn't quite fathom.

Plus it looked pretty goddamn real.

"I think I should be the one asking you that," Sokka replied with more than a hint of desperation. "You're the one who decided to invade my completely normal, completely ordinary boat with all your magic mermaid powers."

The merman looked back at him with the most bewildered expression. "'Magic mermaid powers'?" he echoed incredulously. Sokka didn't fail to notice that he kept glancing at his legs, and he realised that if this really was a merman on his boat (about equally as likely as finding a party trooper in the water three hundred miles from land, to be perfectly honest), then he was probably just as shocked and confused at suddenly seeing this strange man with two legs and no fishtail.

Sokka felt a pang of empathy, and noticed that the mysterious merman was still caught up in Sokka's fishing net. He decided that whether this guy was really a merman or not, it was still rude to leave someone tangled in a net. He stood to go find some scissors, and the guy across the deck flinched visibly. There was another drop of sympathy wiggling its way into Sokka's heart – damn his stupid sensitive feelings – and he held up his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just gonna get some scissors to cut you out of that net. It's gotta be uncomfortable."

The merman looked mildly placated by this, though his gold eyes (Gold eyes? Sokka thought wildly, Who the fuck has gold eyes?) were still narrowed in a glare of suspicion when Sokka turned to go inside.

He found some scissors in his desk drawer, and held them for a moment, just staring at them but not really seeing them at all. Maybe this was all a really strange hallucination. Maybe he'd walk out on deck again and find the net full of huge tasty fish instead, none of which talked or glared or had gold eyes. He had had quite a bit to drink last night, and though hallucinations weren't usually a symptom of a hangover…

Sokka sighed, shook the thoughts out of his head, and headed back out on deck.

The merman was still there.

He kept his eyes glued to Sokka as he approached, his face set into an intimidating scowl – though its effects were lessened somewhat by the fact he was still stuck in a fishing net. Sokka worked slowly, making sure not to injure the guy even further as he pulled bits of the net away. He was sad to have to destroy a perfectly good net like this, but it wasn't like he didn't have any others, so he didn't bother trying to keep it salvageable. Instead he focused on freeing the irritable merman.

It took a good twenty minutes to get him completely free, and only then did Sokka see the extent of his injuries. The rope had bruised nastily in some places, and cut right through his skin in others. Sokka's sympathy meter skyrocketed, and he grudgingly gave in to his merciful nature.

Still crouched on the deck, he held out a hand. "I'm Sokka."

The merman looked a little taken aback, but after a few excruciatingly tense moments he clasped the proffered hand firmly. "Zuko."

Sokka inwardly sighed in relief. So the guy was willing to be amicable. At least that was a start. "You're hurt. I have some medical supplies if you want – I mean, I'm no doctor or anything, but I did do a first aid course, so…"

Zuko paused, eyeing him up as if judging whether or not Sokka was to be trusted, then hesitantly nodded. "Thanks."

"Do you wanna…?" Sokka gestured vaguely at the cabin. Zuko looked confused, so Sokka elaborated, "You can come inside, if you want. I have… food, and stuff."

Zuko shrugged. "Sure." He blinked, and a look of realisation dawned on his face. Sokka idly wondered if the guy was always this easy to read. "But I can't… you know, walk there."

Oh.

Sokka wasn't quite sure what to say to that. Definitely not a partygoer, then. "I could – I could carry you?" he offered, cursing how meek he sounded. But then again, offering to carry someone around was not usually high on his list of Things To Say To Strangers.

Zuko looked rather appalled at the idea – Sokka wasn't sure whether to be comforted or insulted – but couldn't seem to come up with anything better himself, so eventually sighed in resignation. "Fine," he muttered grouchily, crossing his arms with a huff.

Sokka tried his best to make it as not-awkward as possible, but it didn't help much. He hefted Zuko into his arms, one arm around Zuko's shoulders and the other around his tail (which was scaly and very, very strange to touch), and tried to stand up.

He very nearly dropped Zuko right back on deck, and immediately regretted his decision to quit the gym last year. The guy was a lot heavier than he looked.

Somehow he got them both inside, and dumped Zuko unceremoniously onto the captain's chair with a heavy sigh of relief. He stretched his arms out a little as he crossed the small room, working the feeling back into them.

"Do you want some coffee?" he offered absentmindedly as he searched for the first aid kit. He could really do with some himself, and it felt unfair not to offer it to his guest.

"Uh," came Zuko's uncertain reply to his right. "Um, okay?"

It was a bit of an odd reply to an offer of coffee, but then again this was a fucking merman Sokka was talking about, so what about him wasn't odd?

Sokka found the first aid kit being used as a bookend for his collection of sci-fi novels, and tucked it under his arm. "I'll go put on the kettle," he explained quickly as he left for the kitchen below deck.

Kettle filled and boiling, he returned upstairs with the first aid kit and set about treating Zuko's wounds. He was a surprisingly good patient, not complaining as Sokka roughly rubbed the dirt out of the cuts and only wincing slightly at the sting of the antiseptic cream. He rolled up Zuko's short sleeve to get a better look at a particularly bad cut on his right arm – deep, raw and friction-burnt – and decided it was worth bandaging.

As he wound the bandage around Zuko's upper arm, Sokka found himself full of dozens of questions. Were there more mermaids or just him? Where did he live? What did he eat? What did mermaids do in their free time?

He almost began to ask, but the sound of the kettle squealing interrupted him. He tied off the bandage and headed downstairs. It was only after he was heaping sugar into his own coffee that he realised he hadn't asked Zuko how he liked his. He shrugged to himself, carrying both mugs in one hand and grabbing the milk and sugar in the other.

"Sorry, I forgot to ask," he said as he entered the cabin again, "how do you like your coffee? Milk? Sugar? You don't seem like a sugar kind of guy to me, but what do I know?"

The joke seemed to go entirely over Zuko's head. He pursed his lips at the sight of the milk carton and tin of sugar. "I don't – I've never had coffee," he admitted.

Sokka looked aghast. He couldn't believe there was someone out there in the world who hadn't tried coffee. Everyone tried coffee. He himself practically lived off the stuff. How –

Oh right. Merman.

He put the mugs and additions on the table. "Okay, well, you can try it black first and then see if you want it changing," Sokka said, handing Zuko the mug.

Zuko gripped it in both hands, ignoring the handle – and Sokka stared, because that coffee was scalding hot and how could that not hurt?

He mimicked Zuko's actions with his own mug, and sure enough he could barely stand it for longer than a few seconds before it began to burn. He almost asked Zuko how he could stand it, but decided it was probably just an unfair evolutionary advantage.

Then Zuko shivered, and Sokka became greatly confused. Was he cold? It was pretty warm outside. It wasn't like it was snowing or anything. "Are you cold?" he asked, because now Zuko looked uncomfortable and it was making Sokka feel guilty.

Zuko cast him a sharp-eyed glance. "Not really."

Well, 'not really' clearly meant 'yes', because almost the moment the words had left his mouth, he shivered again, and hunched into himself a little more, and Sokka saw the goosebumps breaking out on his arms as droplets of water rolled down them.

Stubborn bastard.

He abruptly stood and left the room with the intention of finding a towel. It may not have been particularly cold (not to him, anyway) but ask any fisherman and they will tell you that wet skin gets cold fast, just the same as how sweat cools you down.

Once in the bathroom, it took him a moment to find a towel the right size – and it was slightly embarrassing that the only one big enough to cover Zuko was flower-print, but he supposed it would have to do.

He walked back into the cabin and Zuko wasted no time in informing him that "It's nice."

"What's nice?" Sokka asked as he wandered over with the towel.

"The coffee – what are you doing?" Zuko's voice held a tinge of alarm as Sokka held out the towel.

Sokka rolled his eyes. "You're cold. This will help." He draped it over Zuko's shoulders.

As irritated and suspicious as Zuko looked, he didn't try to get rid of the towel, so Sokka assumed his success. He pulled up a stool and sat himself down, cradling the coffee close and inhaling its wonderful smell. He could never get enough of it. He brought the mug to his lips and took a large gulp, despite the fact that it was still too hot to do anything more than sip it without tongues being burned.

His gaze wandered to Zuko, still seated (as if he had a choice) in the captain's chair, hugging the towel around his shoulders and sipping at the coffee tentatively. He took a larger sip, and swallowed, and as he sighed in pleasure, bright gold eyes still focused on the beverage in his hands – he smiled.

Just a small one, a small sweet smile, nothing to write home about, except –

Sokka's breath caught.

It was ridiculous, really – completely and utterly ridiculous. It was just Zuko. The unfriendly, monosyllabic uninvited guest who still looked at Sokka as if he were a threat.

And yet, for that split second smile, Sokka's stomach had fallen into his boots, and his heart had hammered in his throat.

I hope you liked it? Feel free to leave a review or whatever, since it's my first time writing this pairing and my Zukka ego needs stroking.