AN: Ha, surprise! Another one. (In titanic voice) It's been 84 years... Anyways! This is the longest chapter I've posted so far, as another (in a long line of) olive branch for going so long without updating. Hope you all enjoy. I would love any reviews, but mostly I am just happy that you are even here to read this note. Xoxo

A bloody madness was upon them.

Sokka and the masked man rushed forward at each other. A clatter of moon-steel against silver and whale-tooth drowned out the sounds of their yelling and cursing, but he could feel the wet spittle as it hit his face.

The man moved faster than Sokka would have believed, given his size. Sokka stumbled against the force of his blow, his back hitting the edge of a desk. Old words rang in his ear. Yes, use your surroundings! Make them fight for you! Without much thought, he grabbed a thick, metal paper weight sitting atop some papers, and chunked it at his attacker's head. The man ducked and Sokka found an opening.

Now it was his turn to attack. He filled the air with the whistle of a swinging sword, and drove the bigger man back on his heels. There was a stumble, but the attacker recovered. The next blow was caught high on Sokka's shield. His arm vibrated. Chips of wood rained over their heads. Sokka cut upwards, but the masked man interposed his own silver hilt and launched a fiery backslash. Sokka parried a cut coming at his head and grimaced again at the way his hands rattled in pain. He grunted, cursed, and reeled away, spinning beneath the man's arm to get behind him.

His enemy provided him no respite. Hard on Sokka's heels he followed, his weapon never still. Sword clashed against ax, bounced apart, and then met again. Splinters continued to fly from Sokka's shield as the ax kissed the front of it once, twice, and then thrice. He jumped to his right, but then nearly tripped over Azula's trunk. A great arc of the man's weapon drove him back the other way.

He felt like Aang, jumping and springing around as he was.

Sokka gave ground, defending, until he could feel the other wall press against his back. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that there was nowhere to go. That look almost cost Sokka his head as he only barely missed a swing right in front of his neck.

The whites of Sokka's eyes were on full display as he bullied his way forward again. He would die if he let the man corner him. Three steps up and two back, a move to the left that the mystery man blocked, two more forward, then again, clang and clang and clang. His shield took blow after blow after blow, and Sokka began to worry that he could not handle very much more of this.

Sweat dropped into his eyes, burning, and it plastered stray hair to his brow. I am going to lose, he thought, despairing, as the man's ax whirled and slashed. In one wild flurry, the masked figure took back all of the ground Sokka just gained, sending him staggering back once more against the wall. I am, he thought desperately, mournfully, I am going to die. No! Sokka felt pain in his leg—he'd been cut, as well as a sprain in his shoulder, and a bruise against his back.

He screamed, cursed, and called the other man all sorts of awful names. He charged one last time, swinging his sword harder and harder, not caring that it felt heavier and heavier with each arch of his arm. Brute force was his last resort, and ever present was the worry that he might break his sword, shatter his shield, or snap his own arm. But the swift nature of the man's parries whipped before his eyes, and when Sokka jerked away from him, he lost his footing and crashed to one knee.

At last the masked man closed in, and the downcut of his axe screamed through the air as it flew down to Sokka's head. Despite panting from exertion, he jerked his shield up just in time, and the room rang with the loud crack of snapping wood.

He fought his way back to his feet with a reckless counterattack, feeling his blood sing and scream and boil in a way that it never had before. Not until the man retreated a step did Sokka seem to realize that blood dripped from his leg onto the ground below. He glanced down, distracted, and when he lifted his head, the man was gliding towards him as smooth as Fire Nation wine. He would make an end to Sokka, if he didn't do anything.

Sokka gave a rattled scream, raised his sword in both hands, and brought it swinging up from the ground with all of his strength. He'd hit his mark. His moon sword began its cut in between the man's legs, and slid upwards through bone and meat until stopping at his midsection.

His opponent's knees folded slowly. For a hair of a second, he looked to be praying. When his mouth opened, blood poured from between his lips, a slow lumping river and joined by a low, groaning gurgle. His hands moved to grab at the sword, cutting into his fingers, tugging hard, but to no avail. Sokka's sword still remained embedded in his gut as he fell onto his back

Sokka cradled his arm and felt for the first time everywhere he'd been hurt, and a sob escaped him. Was he crying?

He dropped his broken shield, fell to his knees, and scooted over a bloody floor to the dying man in front of him. He was in pain, eyes flickering all around but yet seeing nothing. Sokka grabbed the wounded man's hand and settled it over his slow moving chest. Sokka never took joy in killing. He wanted to help him, to keep him alive, but he knew there was nothing to be done.

"Why?" He asked, exhausted and confused, "Why would you make me do this to you? I don't even know your name. Why did you make me kill you?"

Sokka was met with no answer, only the sound of a man dying, and his own wounded gasps.

That was how Azula found him.

The moment that Sokka found himself in was ended in a moment. The door to the hallway suddenly burst through its hinges with a crunch of breaking wood, landing on the floor in front of them. Fire came next, searing hot, and so blue that the edges of the flame almost seemed white.

He could see a silhouette through the flame, hooded and dark and impossible to see. The figure was still for a moment, and then they spread their hands to part the flame.

Azula stepped into the room, and watched the scene before her with rabid, sinful eyes that dripped with wroth and revenge. She was terrible, deadly, beautiful, and so ready to kill. Her fingers crackled with energy, and the flames that licked the blackening edges of the doorways grew brighter. The fur pelts that aligned the walls began to burn, and smoke filled the air.

Golden eyes flickered around, narrowed, and searching.

She looked at him.

"Sokka—" She choked over his name. "I heard the fighting from outside, it was silent when I got up the stairs! I thought…"

The fire in her palms went out, and the fire that was already beginning to burn the room began to lessen until it was a dull, smoky smolder. Her eyes were wide and shining now, her mouth open in… was that relief? She stood still in her spot, beginning to smile now. But then a wrinkle of worry folded between her brow.

"You are hurt."

She took at him in a run, dropping to her knees and placing her hands on each side of his face. A frown now set deep where a burgeoning smile used to be. "Where are you hurt? Tell me now."

Sokka leaned into her touch and let his eyes flutter closed. "I'm okay." His panic from a moment before seemed to evaporate like water at the sight of those flames bursting into the room. A small fire still burned some pelts along one wall of the room, warm yellow in flame now, but neither he nor she seemed to pay it much mind.

"My leg is hurt. We should stop the bleeding, but I don't think it's too bad." He smiled faintly. "It hurt worse when I broke it fighting your dad's airships. And, uh, my shoulder is sprained, and I think I'm turning into one gigantic bruise. But I'm okay. I won."

Azula had still not yet smiled fully, but at that, she began to grin. "Yes, you won. Of course you did." She kissed him, first rough and proud, and then gentle with relief. Slender fingers brushed against the tears that tracked down his cheeks and wiped them away. "You are a warrior. Of course you won." But Sokka could see a look in her eyes that betrayed those words.

Azula had been scared for him.

It was then, finally, that she spared attention to the attacker.

In the heat of all of their fighting, Sokka had never had a chance to take a good look. Though his face was still covered by a nondescript mask, his body was in full view. He seemed even bigger lying next to them like this than he had while trying to kill Sokka.

"He wanted to kill you." Sokka said flatly, answering an unspoken question. "I was coming to wait for you for when you were finished with Zuko and the Chief. This guy was already here."

The bastard must have thought he stood a good chance against Azula because of his size. Stupid, Sokka thought bitterly, you would have died in seconds if she'd been the one to find you.

Azula examined the fatal wound on his belly, and the other, lesser injuries Sokka had inflicted along the attacker's extremities. She didn't say anything, still continuing her inspections. She suddenly grabbed for his hands, staring at the palms, fingertips, and dirt beneath the nails. Though they were bloodied, Sokka could see that they were worn and calloused. This man was no stranger to hard, laborious work.

"He's a poor man." She mused, talking to herself not, not Sokka. "His hands—" She dropped them, and pinched the fabric of his clothing between her fingers. "His clothes are cheap. His boots are falling apart. But his weapon… the craftsmanship is too fine." She glanced behind her, at the whale-tooth, silver encrusted axe that lay on the floor behind him. "Someone must have paid this man to do this."

Azula grit her teeth. "I told Zuko that it wasn't a good idea to come here."

She at least had the good grace to sound apologetic. Sokka had helped to organize the entire New Moon festival after all, albeit with the help of the northern ambassador and Zuko.

"Zuko is like you. Ever the optimist, especially these days. I told him many times that this would be dangerous. The Chief himself may be ready for amends, but his people… Commoners, soldiers, nobles alike, those who died fighting in the war. They are not ready! I told him that some wounds never heal. It was foolish for us to come here! If only he'd listened."

Sokka did not have it in him to be offended. He only sighed, and then nodded wearily. "You might have been right."

The fire blazed higher in the corner. "I did not want to be right, much as I enjoy telling my brother I-told-you-so." Her voice rose. "I'd hoped to be wrong!" She snorted. "Though I suppose to hope on a rarity was my first mistake." She stopped then, reaching out once more to touch Sokka's jaw. "This will set us back, all the diplomacy that you and Zuko have been working so hard for. Of course I didn't want to be right."

Her shoulders straightened, and she looked once more at the dead man. She grabbed for his mask and yanked it from the face so roughly that his head rose, and fell again with a clunk. She leaned down close, right into his face. "You failed."

That horrible, beautiful look was back in her eyes. The look that both delighted him, yet sent chills running down his spine. Her voice reminded him of the early days of their first meeting.

"I hope you died in pain. With the knowledge of your disgrace, and your inadequacy. I only wish I could have watched you die myself. You are a failure, and you will be remembered as one." Then she sat up again, turned to Sokka, and launched herself forward.

It hurt his shoulder to catch her, but Sokka did not complain. Her kiss was warm and wet, desperate and pleading. She broke away for a moment, "Thank you, my warrior." Then she smiled, and slid her tongue between his lips.

Sokka returned the kiss greedily, laughing in spite of himself, happy to be alive.

They broke apart a moment later.

He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "I really didn't want to kill him. I tried to talk him out of it."

Azula slid her hands through his hair, untying the wolf's tail knot and scratching her nails gently along his scalp. "I know you didn't."

Sokka's eyes closed again. In a moment he would need her help getting to a healer, but for a second he was as content and soothed as he'd ever been before.

"Princess!"

"Azula—"

"What in the spirit's name!"

Azula pulled her hand from Sokka's hair, but otherwise remained still. Remained close. He could hear a slow rumble of footsteps that turned into a small stampede. A moment later their audience arrived.

Zuko was at the forefront, pushing past protective guards who didn't want him to be the first into the room. His face twisted in shock at the sight of the dead men. He halted in the doorway, stared for a moment longer, and then strode forward in haste.

Just behind him was Hakoda. His father crossed the room, worried and hurried now, and dropped to the ground next to Azula.

"Sokka, my son, are you alright?"

He relayed his wounds to his father, trying to assure him. "I'm injured, but I'm gonna be alright, dad, I promise. I'm a little beat up." His laugh was pitiful, as was his joke. "But you should see the other guy."

Next to him, Azula reached for his good leg and ripped at the fabric of his pants until she had a strip of proper length. She handed it to Hakoda. "Here. For his leg." She sounded strangely shy, by Azula's standards anyways.

His father gave a reluctant nod in thanks, and then set about wrapping his most pressing wound.

Also in the room was Chief Arnook. His face was set severely, his eyes somber and lips pressed together. Behind him were a dozen of the waterbending guards who were never too far from their chief.

"That's Tuk!" Cried a man from that very guard, "Sir, that's Tuk right there, dead!"

Murmurs arose from those in the hall who couldn't see the entire scene, chatter and whispers that only sapped what little energy Sokka had left within him. Tuk, he thought, that was his name. Sokka had never heard it before

"Did you murder him, Firebender?" Accused another of the guards. He pointed an accusing finger at Azula. The men around them all gripped their spears tighter.

Zuko held up his hand, and though the accuser looked aghast, he did not defy. The men looked to Chief Arnook questioningly, but otherwise did not speak.

"It was not Azula." He frowned at the both of them, looking at the sword in the man's belly, and then at Sokka in all of his bloody glory. "Azula doesn't wield a sword, and the man is not burned."

Azula lifted her chin and met his gaze. For a moment it looked like she would take the credit just to spite her brother.

Sokka coughed. "It was me. I killed him."

Everyone stared.

"Crazy, right?" Sokka laughed weakly, aware that it was a pitiful attempt at lighting the mood. Oh well. He would chalk it up to injury and adrenaline. "He was waiting here to assassinate Princess Azula. I found him here. I really did try to talk it out of him, but he wouldn't listen to reason. We fought, and well, he died."

The next three hours were confusing, and Sokka didn't remember them well. He was carried to the healing huts, where the waterbending women of the North gave him something for the pain and set to work on tending him back to health.

The popping of coal on fire was the first thing to greet him when he rose from his healing stupor. His father and Gran-gran sat across the hut from him, already watching.

"My leg feels better." Sokka said hoarsely. But even as he said it, he realized he could feel a dull ache in his left calf.

"The healers did a good job on it, but you may have a shadow of a limp. Or so they tell me." Gran-gran rose from her seat and moved to push his hair back from his forehead. Somewhere along the way his wolf's tail had come untied. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too." He said quietly, remembering the fight and how close he had come to losing. "He almost got me."

"The important thing is that he didn't." His father spoke now, also rising from his chair and moving to stand on the other side of Sokka's bed. "You must have fought well. He was bigger than you, and in such close quarters. I certainly have some questions…" He glanced sideways at Gran-gran and then back to Sokka. "But I am proud of you, and fiercely glad that you are okay."

Gran-gran, to her credit, rolled her eyes in Hakoda's direction. "I've lived on this earth a long time, son. I could probably answer those questions already for you. And you were never very good at being coy. But I'll go and give you two a moment to talk alone anyways."

She patted Sokka affectionately on the head and slipped out the door, muttering "Men," in a teasingly exasperated tone before she left them alone.

Sokka turned to his dad, and sighed, half-dreading what would come. "Questions?"

"When did it start with you two? You and the Princess?"

He sucked in a breath, having not expected such bluntness. It didn't worry him so much that his father knew about him and Azula, but if his father had figured it out… then surely others would know too. Worry twisted his stomach into uncomfortable knots. It didn't take a genius to figure out why Sokka might have been in Azula's room so late in the night.

He thought of her. Of the way she knelt beside him, and tore at his clothes for a bandage. Of the burning pride that flickered in her eyes when she kissed him, and the venomous hatred in her voice while she hissed in the dead man's face. Her gentle touch. He loved her so much, he felt for a moment like he wouldn't breathe until he could see her face again.

Tears filled Sokka's eyes, and he lifted a fist to brush them away, ashamed to cry in front of his father. Hakoda said nothing about it, but moved a chair closer so he could sit at the bedside.

"A long time. More than two years." Sokka finally answered once his eyes were dry. "Dad, I love her so much."

"I see."

And there it was. Silence grabbed them both, but strangely enough, it was not uncomfortable. He took in a slow breath, feeling a weight inside of him disappear as he exhaled back into the air. He needed to tell his father, just as he'd needed to tell Katara. He didn't need them to understand, or even approve, but he did need them to know. And now both of them did.

Sokka smiled. His father smiled back.

"She is not the girl I would have picked, I'll admit it. But she's the one that you picked, and strange as it is, I like her. She locked me in prison, actively tried to kill both of us when you were breaking me out… and yet." Hakoda laughed. "She worried over you, even fretted after you were taken away."

Now Sokka was laughing. "Azula doesn't fret."

"Oh, I think she does. You should have seen her out there, demanding to know of your condition, and how long until you'd be healed. She was very rude, she offended many people… but it charmed me. It wasn't until the Fire Lord came to get her that she finally stopped with her demands."

That twist in his stomach was back. Zuko… what did Azula tell him? Did he know their secret?

"Have you seen her since then?" Sokka asked, searching his father's eyes nervously.

"No." Hakoda sighed. "I've been with you. It hasn't been too long. They healed you quickly. She's probably still with him. I assume that he didn't know about the two of you?"

"No." Sokka pushed himself up in bed, so he could lean back against the pillows. "It was never the right time to tell him. And it's been going on for so long… Agh, what if he wants to… fight me in an Agni Kai or something?"

"I think you would need to be a firebender for that, son."

"Well—Oh, or what if he wants to fight another Agni Kai against Azula! You know how that went the last time! And she was off her game!" He was exclaiming now, growing agitated.

"Sokka, calm down!" His father put a hand on his shoulder. "You need to take a breath."

He did as instructed, and released his breath as a sigh. "This whole thing just makes me anxious."

"I know it does. It's okay that it does, but you need to keep a level head. Because I highly doubt that Zuko… Fire Lord Zuko, would do something so foolish. He's been a remarkably levelheaded leader. And I'm sure your friendship must count for something. I don't know what it is that he will think, or say, or do. But the only way forward is to just face it. I know it's not the best advice, but uncomfortable truths rarely make for comforting wisdom."

Sokka made a face and his father laughed.

Sokka frowned in concentration while gathering his hair into one hand. It had been six hours now since the attack. It was still dark outside, but the early pricklings of the sun were beginning to show themselves along the horizon. He was nearly finished getting dressed again.

With that task finished, Sokka limped out onto the ice towards laughter and voices. As he walked, his leg loosened and that awkward stiffness of his healed wound went away. They'd really done a great job. Even his shoulder was only a faint echo of the pain it was earlier.

Around the corner from Zuko's quarters, a peal of laughter drew his attention. He recognized the parkas by sight—thin, red, with the Fire Nation logo in gold stitched across the bag. It was a group of guards, huddled together. A shift change, it looked like.

Their smiles faded when they saw Sokka approach, and his serious expression. They understood that he was not in the mood for jokes. Without protest he was allowed back into the building. It was with an odd sense of deja vu that he returned again to that top floor, where only six hours ago he'd ended a man's life. Tuk. Where he'd ended Tuk's life.

He stopped at the split of the hallway, turning right. The ripped wooden remains of the door were scattered in the hallway. There were black spots along the frame where Azula's fire had raged too bright. His eyes burned, remembering. Then he turned to the left.

He didn't knock on the door to Zuko's study. He just walked in.

The Fire Lord was alone, which immediately begged the question: Where was Azula? He glanced around, knowing she was not here, but looking for her all the same. He'd never needed to see her badly, but it looked like he would have to wait. He sighed. What was a few more hours?

Zuko looked tired. His hair was down, hanging long and straight down to his shoulders. If it weren't for the scar on his face, he would look so much like his father. The thought wasn't as disconcerting as it might otherwise have been. He'd thought much the same about Azula before.

"Zuko. I— I don't know what to say."

"Sit down, Sokka." He pointed to the empty chair across the desk. Then he reached for a bottle of Hot Whiskey. It was Fire Nation. Zuko brought it himself, by the looks of it. He poured them each a glass. Sokka took his wearily.

The liquor burned as it always did, but he was much better at keeping it down after a few years of practice. They drank for a moment in silence. Then—

"I don't know what to do about this Sokka. You both…lied to me, for so long."

"She told you?" Man, he wished he could have seen it. He would have to get every detail from Azula later.

Zuko glared at him. "Yes, she told me. But she didn't even need to." He lifted an eyebrow in Sokka's direction, and then strangely enough, smiled. "I saw her. The way she was kneeling next to you. And then she was yelling at everyone she could find when they would not let her in to see you. Then I knew. Not to mention that you just conveniently were in her bedroom at night to catch the bad guy."

Sokka shrugged sheepishly and took a sip from his drink.

"I brought her with me back on the ship to ask her about it, and get the truth. She beat me to it before I could get a word out."

Sokka couldn't help the small smile that bloomed on his face. She was always one step ahead, his girl.

"She didn't tell me everything. But she told me how long it had been going on. That she loves you, and it's none of my business who she chooses to spend her time with."

"Well it's not." Sokka said flatly. Then, "Well, mostly. Look Zuko, I know where you're coming from, why you might not like this, but can't you just… trust me? This is a good thing, for her, and for me."

Zuko sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I know how much you've helped her. And I know that you make her happy. I've seen it. I mean, I didn't know that was because of you, but I've seen it. And knowing that this has been going on the entire time— Well, I really don't think you know where I'm coming from, Sokka."

Sokka frowned, leaning forward. "Explain it then."

Another sip of his drink later, and then Zuko finally spoke. "She's improved so much. She smiles sometimes now, instead of just always smirking at me. I love my sister. And that feels so weird." He shook his head thoughtfully, "For the first time since we were children I think I understand her. I never thought I'd be able to say that. I should have looked out for her more after the war. She never should have been locked away like that. And I shouldn't have left her alone for so many years."

Sokka, silently agreeing, nodded.

"I don't mean this the way that it sounds, I swear, but it never should have been you to pick up those pieces for her."

"It wasn't like that, Zuko. Trust me!"

"What if it doesn't work out with you two? What would that do to her? If she is better for you, then is she really better at all? I need to protect her now, I don't want this peace she's found to be something she gets from anyone else, not even you. She needs to find it for herself, by herself."

He immediately opened his mouth to protest. To exclaim to Zuko that he had it wrong. That they'd already lost each other, that this change was never something Sokka could have given her. Didn't he know his own sister? Who could force her to do anything?

"Zuko, I'm flattered that you think I've got some kind of spirit magic or mind control, but—"

"You're not hearing me, Sokka."

A twinge of worry sent blood rushing to his face.

"Then say it more clearly, Zuko!"

"Be quiet!" He slammed his glass down on the table, and leaned towards Sokka. "I hate this. I really do. You are probably my best friend, and if I am being honest, I don't hate the idea of you with Azula… not really. You're a good person, and spirits know you'd be good for her, if she's really let you in—"

"—She has." Sokka said, urgent to clarify.

"...Then I approve. But you both lied to me, for years. And it's important to me that she's happier and better. You've been there for every step of her recovery, but she needs some time alone. We both do. As a family."

Sokka set his own glass down now, frowning, unsure if what we felt was upset or angry. "What? Are you banishing me or something?"

Zuko lifted his hand to glare. "No, I'm not banishing you." Then, a pause. "Or maybe I am. Unofficially, for a really short time. Give us some time together, Sokka. We need it. I do. And I think you know that she does."

"Does she know about this? About my temporary unofficial banishment." He said, using finger quotes.

"She does."

"Oh." He frowned, sinking into his seat. He wasn't sure what to think about it.

"She wasn't happy. Not at first. Maybe not even now. I didn't force her into this." Zuko inhaled deeply. "We both shared some secrets tonight."

"For how long?" He asked, feeling weak again but in an entirely different way.

"As long as it takes." Zuko answered softly, secretively. "But afterwards, we both want you to come back. It's just… time for her and I to mend this gap between us. We need to become true brother and sister, and I need you to not be there for that. I'm sorry, but I'm leaving you here. We set sail for the Fire Nation tomorrow."

The sun was up when he saw her again. It was eight hours now since the attack, and dawn had scattered the stars, replacing them with a spotting of early morning clouds.

Azula was waiting at the end of her ship's ramp, clad in full armor, with her hands clasped regally behind her back. She looked every bit the severe, noble, and prideful Princess. He couldn't help but smile. But once again, when she looked into his eyes, all of that melted away and she was his Princess once again.

They both marched forward to each other, and came to a sudden halt when they met halfway. Nose-to-nose they stood staring, and then suddenly; smiling, laughing.

"Aw, fuck it." He whispered. Then he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up to his face, not caring who could see. He drank her in: her cheeks, nose, the wisps of black hair moved by the cold and winter wind, and especially her lips. He kissed her for the first time not in secret. It began soft, but did not remain that way for long. He could not help it. This feeling was new and ancient at the time, fresh and familiar all at once, and desire for her burst in his belly like oil to a flame.

Azula broke away first, gasping, "I will miss you. Dearly."

He set her back onto the ramp. Up the bow the soldiers gaped. Some pointed, and called to the others around them. They all turned around and looked busy once Azula glanced over her shoulder.

They burst out laughing again, not caring any longer. The gator-cat was out of the bag, as the saying went.

"I love you!" He said, pressing his lips to hers again. "I hate that you're leaving, but I love you."

She touched his face for the briefest moment, before settling that hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry that this happened, but as sorry as I am to leave you… I think Zuko has a point."

Sokka barked out a laugh. "Oh, I bet that hurts to say."

She smirked. "It does, actually. But not as much as I thought it would. He will annoy me. Everyday, perhaps. But this will be a good thing. And as you know, I am rarely wrong."

"I really hope it's a good thing. Selfishly, I don't want you to go. But I know it's important to you. I'm going to miss you."

"You are going to come back to me." She said suddenly, commanding now. A sweet smile still tugged at her lips. "That is an order from your Princess, understood?"

Sokka smiled gently. This external latency was in stark contrast to what was happening inside of him, where every molecule vibrated, every cell bloomed in love, affection, devotion. It bubbled from somewhere he did not know even existed and called like a song to a place beneath his skin. Called and called, and Sokka felt a sudden rupture within him, a breaking of a new dawn; innate, enduring, unstoppable.

"I'm yours to command, Princess." He was struck with a crashing wave of intent. "I'm going to go home with my dad, and Gran-gran. To the Southern Water Tribe. I'm going to write to you. All of the time. About every stupid thing I do."

"I should hope so."

"Write to me too, will you? Send your letters there. I'm really, really going to miss you."

"Of course." Azula whispered gently. She then leaned forward and planted a kiss against his forehead.

AN: Apologies for any typos/errors/inconsistencies! Hope you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading.