A:N/ The options this week were either "Melt in Your Hands" or "A Song of Ice and Fire AU." I went with the latter. I'm not gonna lie this one kicked my ass. I'm not sure if I like it or not. It was definitely not as ambitious in scope as my other AU, but I thought it was pretty fun either way. Anyways let me know what you think either on here or on tumblr at DeadDirector. :D thanks again for all who take the time out of their days to read this. And happy halloween!

"You can't be here." Azula said without turning around.

The man did the audible equivalent of a shrug as he entered the spacious tent and pulled the flap shut behind him. Azula Targaryen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea and the last living scion of the greatest dynasty in the history of Westeros, reclined on the sleeping furs. She was clad only in a pale, almost translucent white nightwear. Azula's dark black hair, emblematic of the Targaryen's hung loosely in a ponytail that wrapped over her shoulder. Still, the most identifying feature of hers were her bright golden eyes. They were unique throughout the world and signified that the Targaryens were once mighty and proud dragonriders, the likes of which hadn't been seen in over a century.

"He could come here at any time, you fool." Azula's voice was now a whisper, but it's harshness was unmistakable.

"Please, the Khal hasn't visited you once since you began showing… His loss, quite truthfully." The man said softly, standing just a few feet behind her.

"Sokka… this is crazy. You're insane. We have to stop this." Azula turned to face him, a determined expression on her face.

Her resolve wilted as the man took her in his arms gently, mindful of her midsection and enveloped her in a warm embrace. "There's not a night that goes by that I don't want to spend it with you." His nose was pressed against her forehead, and his lips caressed her brow.

"I can't stay away, the Old Gods know I've tried. You're more powerful than them, I think." Sokka said while pulling away to stare into her eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his features.

"At last, you've realized the truth then. That your proper place in this world is worshipping your Queen and not those silly trees of your homeland." Azula smirked at him.

Sokka responded by simply rolling his eyes as he carefully dragged the two of them to the furs that lined the Khaleesi's bed. The pale gown worn by Azula came tumbling off in seconds. His eyes did what Azula bade them. They worshipped every single inch of her exposed flesh. Even in the more advanced stages of her pregnancy, the Northerner thought, no, rather Sokka knew that she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Azula flushed under his steadfast gaze. She drew him even closer with a finger that she curled in his direction. "How did I fall in love with such a lecherous man?" She wondered aloud.

Sokka's response was a laugh and a soft nuzzle into her neck. His mouth pressed against her porcelain skin and he was rewarded with a soft shudder of approval from Azula. "Persistence and dedication, I'd wager. And the competition wasn't too fierce, I'd imagine." He said with a chuckle.

"Heh, I guess it wasn't…" Azula's voice trailed off, and she glanced away.

Sokka stared at her intently, worried at what he had said to put her in such a pensive mood.

"'Zula?" He said inquiringly.

"D-Do you think it's yours?" Her voice was little more than a whisper. "I pray to the Seven, I pray to the Red God, I even pray to your savage Gods. Whatever it takes. I won't survive if it's not." A strangled noise left Azula's throat.

"Hey, hey. It's going to be alright. I'll love you and the child no matter who it takes after. I'll never stop loving you or defending you. If we have to hide this for fifty years, I'll do it, if it allows me to stay by your side. If I have to fight a hundred Khal's and a thousand knights I would beat them all, just to return to you, my dragon." His voice was soft but resolute, a burning passion smouldered in his eyes.

"I-I… just wish that my brother had never sold me off like a farm animal. I wish we had found each other before the marriage in Pentos. We could have run off. You might have etched a living as a sellsword and I your dutiful wife. We may have made a world with each other, away from these constant fears of being caught. Away from the chance of our lives being forfeit if we take one wrong step." Azula said, longing in her voice.

"I won't let-" Sokka began.

"You can't fight off an entire Dothraki horde, Sokka. No matter how inflated your ego might be. You're a great swordsman, or so the Khal's bloodriders have said, but if this baby has blue eyes on the day that he or she is born… what then? Both our heads will be taken by Zhao along with our childs'..." A weak sob wracked Azula Targeryen's body.

Tears formed at the corner of Sokka's eyes. He wanted to offer a dozen platitudes and promise the woman that he loved that he would always be able to protect her, but they would be just that, platitudes. There was no world in which he could easily keep her safe, not if they stayed with the Khalsar. Azula was already far enough along in her pregnancy that she couldn't ride very far or more particularly very fast. If they fled together, the Dothraki would hunt them down and it would all be for naught.

Their doom approached closer and closer every evening that they spent wrapped in each other's arms and they had no way of avoiding it. Perhaps the only way that they might escape unharmed from the situation, was if it was actually Khal Zhao's child and not his. An outcome that he knew would destroy Azula's life in an entirely different manner.

"I don't have an answer right now. I think about it every moment of every day. Maybe if we're near a coastal town, we can commandeer a ship? Or book passage at night? I just want you to be safe. I need you to be safe." Sokka said quietly, doing his best not to give into despair.

The clock was ticking on their relationship and it was about to reach a fiery conclusion, one way or another. Azula smiled at him and reached an arm out, wrapping it around Sokka's neck, pulling him close once again. They drew comfort in each other, both of them thousands of miles away from their birthplaces, finding joy in a kindred spirit. Risking it all for just one more moment together.

It was almost a week later when Sokka was able to visit the Khaleesi in her tent again. The air was saturated and humid near the lands of the Lhazar. Twice already he had tried to come to Azula at night, and twice he had been unable to maneuver around the many Dothraki who slept under the open skies, blocking his way to her tent.

At last, the day after the Dothraki Horde had pillaged and sacked the small settlement of the goat herders, Sokka was able to make his way carefully into the tent. Azula sat on a small wooden stool. Her handmaiden, Ty Lee, a pleasure girl from Lys, was unbraiding the Khaleesi's hair. Sokka cleared his throat and the young woman finished her task with skillful hands. Ty Lee gave him a knowing smile and a wink as she passed him, leaving the tent and the pair alone, finally.

"I still don't think we should have let her know." Sokka said as he approached her.

"Yes, well then you shouldn't have been in my bed and under the covers as the sun rose and she came to do her morning duties." Azula snarked back at him.

"If I recall, it was you that forbade me from leaving your bedside, Your Grace. Something about wanting to do a specific activity for the third time that night. You were most satisfied with my handiwork that evening." Sokka said with a smug smirk on his lips.

"Always so full of yourself, aren't you?" She said, turning to face him slowly.

"I'd say normally, it's you that's full of me, my lady." He said in a sensual whisper.

Sokka's comment was rewarded with her cheeks blushing bright red, standing in a sharp contrast to her pale skin. Azula swatted him on the arm playfully, mirth evident on her face. "If I must pretend that you're an adequate lover to keep you in good spirits, I guess I shall." She said laughingly.

"I know you don't need to pretend. Or do I need to remind you of that time under the waterfall…"

This time her smack left a sizable red mark on his bicep. "Geez, Khaleesi. You might wake up the entire camp." Sokka said teasingly.

Azula had the good sense to look somewhat abashed at her action. "Psh, it wasn't that loud. And you deserve worse anyways. Defiling a royal as you do." She sent a haughty glare his way.

"But the defiling is the fun part!" Sokka whined in protest.

"Does this look fun to you?" Azula gestured pointedly at her very pregnant body.

"Hmmm… well you weren't complaining when-"

"Finish that thought and I'll have you dragged behind my horse for a day." Azula snarled.

"But-" Sokka started to protest.

"A week!" She amended her threat.

He grumbled under his breath yet said no more on the subject. Azula waddled over to the furs lining her bed and settled into them. With an exasperated sigh she motioned for her lover to join her. Beaming from ear to ear, Sokka rushed to her side, taking care to not make any sudden movements that might disturb her.

Azula's three dragon eggs were in a small ornate wooden box by her bedside. She was staring at them wistfully again as Azula was wont to do when she thought he wasn't paying attention. This time, however, she caught his eye as she traced imaginary lines over the eggs.

"You know everyone else says these eggs are cold. Illyrio when he handled them said that. Zuko did too… but they don't feel that way for me. They feel… warm? Almost alive." Azula had the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

No matter how many times he saw her smile, Sokka thought it was the most stunning sight in all the world.

He moved close to her, inclining his head as if asking for permission. Azula gave a slight nod of approval and he reached out his hand feeling the precious eggs that truthfully looked more like valuable stones. The first two were cold as she claimed. Yet, when he reached the green egg, it felt different.

The egg felt like it pulsed and hummed with an inexplicable energy. Whatever it was, it didn't feel dead. It felt alive.

"The green one. It-It is warm!" He said excitedly.

Azula looked at him inquisitively. "You aren't just saying that to make me feel less insane are you?" She asked

"Why would I say just the green one feels that way then?" Sokka retorted.

"I don't know, is there a reason for anything that you do?" She smirked at him.

"Hey!" He half-heartedly protested. "You're not, you know." His voice took on a serious tone.

"Hmmm?" Azula responded in confusion.

"Insane. I don't like it when you joke about that." he said, a trace of worry evident on his dark features.

"It wasn't a joke." Azula said quietly as turned her head to face away from him.

"'Zula…" Sokka murmured delicately. "Hey. You're not them, okay? It doesn't matter if they called Ozai, the Mad King. It doesn't matter what Zuko tried to do to you. What they did, who they are, that was all their choices and their lives. You're your own person. You can rise above all of your ancestors, because you're unique, and you're strong, and you're the most sane person I know. The things you've been through? The things you've survived. You're amazing Zula. I just hope you can see yourself like I see you."

She didn't say anything in response for some time. Sokka settled into the bed behind her, pulling her body tight against his, relishing in her warmth. He trailed a kiss slowly down her neck that culminated with a gentle caress of her exposed shoulders. Azula gave a soft hum of contentment at his actions. He grasped her hip and pulled her flush against him, grinding his lower body into hers. This time he was rewarded with a sultry moan.

"S-Sokka!" Azula gasped as his fingers coursed through her hair.

"Yes, my Queen?"

"You're wearing far too many clothes right now. Remedy this." She ordered imperiously.

"Your wish is my command."

They slept for a few hours. The sun was still some time away from rising. It was the hour of the wolf. Sokka awoke to find Azula laying on her back with her eyes staring. Her arms were folded neatly above her stomach. She looked small and frightened. He placed a kiss on her cheek after he crawled closer.

"Are you alrigh-" He started to ask.

"I'm worried." Azula's voice was soft, as if she was trying her hardest to not shatter the tranquility of the night.

Sokka would have given anything to set her at ease.

"What's there to be worried about? You're Azula Targaryen. You've got the blood of Sozin the Conqueror running in your veins. Your family were the greatest dragonlords the world had ever seen. You're not the shy, browbeaten girl I met all those moons ago in Pentos. I don't think you've really ever been her, if I'm being honest with you. Your brother tried his best to beat you down and repress what you truly are, but he failed. Curse his soul. You're a dynamo Azula. There's no one in this world I'll ever love more. There's not a person more worthy of deserving all the goodness that exists. You've been through so much and you've come out stronger on the other side of it all. I sometimes wonder what you can't do, you know?" Sokka finished his speech and stared at her intently.

The Khaleesi's eyes were looking towards the ceiling, before she slowly tilted her head, meeting his gaze. "Thank you, Sokka. I know I try to be strong at all times. But when it's just the two of us… well, I need this. I need you." Sokka's eyebrows wagged at her as she finished her comment.

"Not like that you dolt. I mean your presence. Your skills as a lover are acceptable at best." Azula shot a feral grin in his direction.

"Hey! That's emasculating you know. I'm more than capable. Errr-" Sokke complained.

"And how would you know? Unless you lied about me being the only woman you've been with?" Azula riposted.

Sokka slumped his shoulders in defeat, all but admitting the trap he had fallen in. His mood became somber and Azula for her part looked regretful and that change in his tone as he started to speak.

"Besides," he said ruefully. "It's me that isn't worthy of you. A northern bastard, with no titles or land to his name. Just a single sword given to him by his noble father, who wouldn't even tell me who my mother is… What business do I have being with the most beautiful woman in the world? And what's worse, if the babe is mine... I've given you a bastard. Now he'll be just like me. The Bastard of Winterfell. A stain on both our honor, if I ever had any to begin with that is." Sokka's eyes closed and a look of despair crossed his face.

"I've ruined you forever mayhaps. I don't know why you let me. I'm so sorry, Azula. You deserve better."

At this Azula laughed aloud. "Better? Like how? With my Dothraki savage of a husband, who only ever visited me to rut inside me and once my body swelled he hasn't glanced in my direction since? How many whores and innocent women has he taken since that day? Hmmm. I've made more than my share of mistakes in my life, you know. The only one I ever regret is not running away with you before my wedding, Sokka. We might have slipped out of Illyrio's manse that night, the night we shared together before Zhao touched me. I should have forced you to take me away. We might be far away from here, maybe in Bravos or Volantis, hiding but showing our love freely as man and wife. That's what I want to give you. I don't care if you're a bastard. You're the most noble man I've ever met. You're kind and sweet. Caring and tender, yet fierce. You saved my life from those assassins, you've helped shelter me from all the worst things in my life, while allowing me the space to grow and stand for myself. I know you'll do everything you can to keep us safe. Besides fool, I know this child is yours, as sure as I've been of anything in my life. As sure as I am that I love you."

Her speech made his mind whirl. He had had the same regret, he wished that they had run away, that one moonless night before her wedding. They had been so close, but fear held them back. It wouldn't hold them back any longer. Every time he saw Khal Zhao, each atrocity he witnessed the Horse Lord commit hardened his resolve. It would kill him to see Azula waste away her life with a barbarian who would never treat her properly like the Queen she was. He couldn't promise the titles or the wealth or the power, but he would never stop trying to make her feel like royalty that she was. Yet, she loved him all the same. The thought imbued him with confidence and faith that the power of that feeling alone could see them through to safety, even if the whole world was against them .

"We'll be alright then, won't we?" He asked nervously.

She didn't answer except by bringing his hand to her stomach. Azula gently intertwined their fingers together, moving them in a small circular motion over her body. They sat there in silence, savoring the close contact and the feeling of belonging that they provided each other.

Her other hand gently stroked his cheek. Sokka wished that he could bottle this moment and keep it locked and secure in his memories forever. For just a moment he dared to dream that they were the ones who were wed and promised to each other. If only they were a thousand miles away from the Great Grass Sea and the Dothraki who would chase them to the ends of Essos if Zhao discovered their relationship.

"As long as we love each other, we'll be alright." She repeated, trying to make him believe it.

"We'll be alright." She said once more.

Trying to make herself believe it.

The sun beat down on the Khalasar as Khal Zhao was dying. The wound he had received in the village of the Lhazareen was festering. It wouldn't be long now before he was unable to continue riding. There was unrest brewing amongst the Khal's bloodriders. The entire host was on edge.

Sokka had taken to wearing his full plate mail at all times. His wolf helm, emblematic of the Starks, the family he was never fully a part of, was displayed prominently. He was never more than a dozen feet away from Azula, who was now it seemed, ready to enter labor at any moment. The bloodriders had taken to eyeing him warily. The once good relations he had had with the warriors was all but evaporating.

Every passing minute brought them closer to their doom. Sokka had always considered himself a good planner, filled to the brim with ingenious schemes and strategies. His brother Robb and sister Katara would always rely on him to prepare the pranks and playful endeavours they engaged at as children. Yet now, with his life on the line. With the life of the woman he loved and their possible child at risk, he had thought of nothing. No stroke of brilliance manifested itself, no magic idea to lead them to safety appeared from thin air.

At least, Sokka thought with some satisfaction, Khal Zhao was unlikely to outlive him. The infection was coursing through the man's body. His arrogance and pride led to a refusal to have the injury treated. Now, it would be his downfall. Undefeated on the field of combat, felled to the smallest of scratches. A certain type of irony was there that usually was found only in the tales of the minstrels or the songs of the bards.

His only concern now was sheltering Azula against anyone who might do her harm. In the chaos of the Khal's looming death, Sokka might be able to slip away with her. The factions in the Zhaos's horde would be striving for dominance and that instant might be their best chance for escape. Of course, Azula's state was definitely complicating matters. The Khaleesi could no longer ride her horse and had to be borne in a wain for the remaining duration of her pregnancy. A quick getaway was less than unlikely, it was nearing impossibility.

The Horde had stopped and made their base alongside a scenic unnamed river. Many of the Dothraki rushed to bathe and drink from it's waters once their nomadic settlement was constructed. A feeling of unease hung dangerously over the encampment. Already it was clear that Zhao's horde was splitting into factions. Zoqio and Pono were positioning themselves as the two most obvious successors. Like vultures in the desert circling a carcass, waiting for their target to drop at long last from exhaustion.

Azula was being helped down from the wagon by a pair of her handmaidens when she gave a yelp of pain. She stumbled but was held aloft by her companions. "Her water broke." He heard Ty lee murmur.

Sokka's heartbeat quickened. He rushed forward to her side, propriety be damned. Her handmaiden Mai eyed him with a knowing smirk. Sokka had never been sure if Azula had confided in her as she had in Ty Lee but the expression on her face made it all too obvious now. Ignoring the possible consequences, Sokka scooped the woman he loved into his arms and followed Ty Lee who was rushing to the tent that was quickly being set up by the midwife and her assistants for the Khaleesi. Sokka felt like Azula was light as a feather as he carried her with ease into the tent. He placed her on the makeshift bed that they had set out, before he was shooed away by the midwife.

Azula's hand reached for his, and their fingers touched and their eyes locked for just the briefest second before he was ushered from the room.

He stood outside her tent for the duration. Every sound and cry uttered by Azula tore his heart in two. What he wouldn't give to be there for her. To hold her hand, to show that she wasn't alone in this world. Yet he was barred by the midwife, and by tradition.

The sun had already risen and started its climb across the morning sky. The camp was a bustle of activity. The large tent in front of him housed Khal Zhao, or at least what remained of the man. The infection had ransacked the once proud and strong body of the would be conqueror.

Sokka could observe from his position outside of Azula's tent that there was a stirring near the Khal's own, much grander lodgings. Standing vigil outside were the Khal's two younger brothers. Three Dothraki approached Zhao's brothers and gestured at them with their weapons. Zhao's brothers were still young and not yet fully grown men. Sokka knew what was going to happen before it occurred. The battle was short and decisive, if it could even be called a battle.

He had grown fond of the younger of Zhao's brothers. Liano had shown none of the Khal's brutality or lust for battle. The teenager had enjoyed riding and hunting, he even had helped Sokka fiddle and tinker with a new type of stirrup for the Dothraki to use with their horses, and now the boy had been cut down in front of him. For what? The crime of being related to a deceased monarch. For that alone could explain the boldness of those three men. Khal Zhao's body would soon lie smouldering on his funeral pyre.

Tenseness coursed through his body. It was possible that those men wouldn't stop at just the late Khal's brothers. A son of Zhao, real or imagined, would be a grave threat to any of his successor's legacy. Deep breaths, he thought to himself. Calm and composed. That's what Hakoda Stark had taught him. That's what he was going to be. They turned in his direction and made their way to him. Sokka recognized that one of the men was Ponqo's brother. The man had sent his own kin to secure his uncontested rule.

The three Dothraki squared away against him. Sokka unsheathed his sword and checked to make sure his knife on his belt was within easy reach. They circled him slowly, looks of supreme confidence on their face. Maybe on horseback they might have had a chance against him. Maybe. The one on his left rushed forward swinging his Arakh in a sweeping strike aimed at his shoulder. Sokka almost laughed at the amateurish attempt. They had clearly never faced a knight from Westeros, and why should they have?

Spinning into the weapon's path rather than away from the curved blade, took his opponent by surprise. The sword clanked harmlessly off his breastplate, throwing the man off balance. Sokka brought his longsword to bear with a deft one handed strike. It likely would not have made the slightest impact against a fellow Westerosi knight, but against an unarmored, half naked Dothraki screamer? There was truly never any question of the outcome. The sword cut through the man's flesh like a hot knife through butter.

Sokka held his sword loosely at his side while waving a metal gauntlet towards the two remaining foes in a taunting manner. An enraged enemy is liable to make more mistakes, his father had taught him. This time, the Dothraki charged him together. They were faster than he was most assuredly, they even might have had that distinction if he wasn't wearing a full set of armor.

The adversary on his right ducked under Sokka's probing strike with even more agility than he had deemed possible. The Dothraki tried to slip a foot behind him and trip him up with the help of his comrade who lunged at him as Sokka tried to swing his sword back around. Staying on his feet against his enemies was crucial. If they got him flat on his back, the Dohtraki were liable to sneak a knife between the creases in his protection. Sokka's sword was in his right hand as the strike carried his weight forward. He used that momentum to tumble away from the attacker on his right. He swung his own blade catching it on the Arakh of his nemesis. Applying pressure with his left hand, he drew back a mailed gauntlet and delivered a punishing blow to the man in front of him. Crimson blood spurted from the man's nose. The man staggered backwards but didn't crumble from the weight of the punch. Sokka felt a sharp pang as the last of his remaining foes landed a blow in the soft spot under his armpit.

The weapon was crudely forged. Perhaps that alone saved him. The blade dug into the castle forged steel with a resounding crack. Sokka felt the barest of a prick as the edge dug into his flesh. The man tried to pry his arakh loose but failed. The Dothraki yanked Sokka's helmet off of him, exposing his head and neck to attack. The wolf helm forged in the halls of Winterfell went tumbling to the ground. Sokka gritted his teeth as his enemy inadvertently dug the blade deeper into his side. With a guttural scream of pain, Sokka brought his longsword to bear. The Dothraki was still struggling in vain to jar his own weapon loose. Realizing the nature of his predicament as Sokka began to bring his weapon to bear, the man tried to jump backward but was clipped by the pointed tip of Sokka's sword across the stomach.

The wound was no mere pinprick. Sokka's adversary tumbled to the ground holding his stomach, desperately trying to stem the bleeding to no avail. Every step that Sokka took, sent another shiver of pain through his body. He tried to remove the Arakh with one hand but found it wouldn't come out, wedged as it was into his armor. Each movement was painful and forced the cut open more and more.

Sokka's right arm hung limply by his side. Attempting to lift the limb sent a pulsing pain that racked his every nerve. The last of his foes was finally looking on him with a begrudging respect as his two comrades-in-arms lay either unmoving or grievously wounded. He had lost the element of surprise as well as the use of his more practiced swordhand. Ponqo's brother was the last remaining adversary. The barbarian stood in front of him and grinned ferally as the Dothraki observed Sokka's discomfort and pain.

His enemy twirled his arakh in a semi-circle. Almost teasing that he alone of the two fighters had full use of his faculties. Well, except for the exceptionally bloody nose that Sokka had given his opponent already. Ponqo's brother tried to make use of his superior agility by launching a darting strike towards Sokka's injured side, where the armor had already caved. The attack wouldn't have caused much damage if not for the previous blow that had struck him there. Because of that Sokka was forced to defend the blow. His left arm reached across his body and met the blade of his foe. His fingers protested and almost dropped his longsword as the two weapons collided and sent a reverberation shaking all up and down his arm.

The arakh pulled back and came cleaving towards his neck with a speed that Sokka couldn't hope to match. He tried to leap back as quickly as he could, but he felt the metal bite into his skin at the nape of his neck. The gash wasn't deep but still stung something fierce. Sokka's movements were slowing and he was starting to flag. He needed to end this confrontation as soon as possible if he was to have any hope of survival.

An idea came to his mind. It was dangerous and foolhardy. The perfect plan. He clutched at his injured side, giving a loud yell of pain. He let his sword slip from his grasp and Ponqo's brother gave a guttural scream as the man charged wildly, preparing a finishing blow. Sokka's good hand dropped to his belt, yanking the knife that hung there free. Realization dawned on the Dothraki, but it was far too late. Sokka threw the blade with all the strength he had left in him. The man tried to raise his Arakh to deflect the thrown object but it was to no avail. It took his foe in the neck, lodging itself in the man's artery. Sokka walked forward clutching his injured side and mercifully ended the warrior's life.

The wounds he had from the battle weren't great but they were sapping his strength all the same. Sokka gingerly walked back to where his sword lay in the dirt. A few of the slaves that Azula had freed had observed the fight but none had come to his assistance. Perhaps it was too much to ask of them. This wasn't their duty, they still likely harbored grudges against all of the Dothraki and saw Azula just as an extension of them.

By Khal Zhao's tent, many Dothraki scurried to and fro as they were constructing an impressive funeral pyre. The new Khal would pretend to pay homage to the old even as they ripped out every possible reference to the man's legacy. The last connection to Zhao would be…

Near the tent a slew of Dothraki gathered. They forced their way in before Sokka could get back to stand guard. The new arrivals formed a semi-circle around Sokka. Their weapons were pointed at him menacingly. Sokka couldn't hope to defeat them, injured as he was, all alone. He fiddled with his sword preparing himself for a hopeless charge. while four of the horsemasters entered the tent where Azula was at least earlier, deep into her labor.

After a few minutes the former Khaleesi stumbled from the tent, a look of exhaustion on her face. She clutched her midsection as if every step caused her great pain. Beside her, Ty Lee had a small bundle in her arms. Azula's child. Could it be...?

His sword fell from his fingers, hitting the ground with a clang, settling into the dust. His greatest fear had at last come true. He was powerless to protect her, powerless to defend those he loved. He was a failure.

Sokka stumbled in Azula's direction and the Dothraki kept their bows trained on him, while a pair trailed him with their spears pointed dangerously near his now unarmored head. Despair rose in him and he had never felt weaker in his life. Her golden eyes met his blue and something unspoken passed between them. Somehow despite the perilous and deadly situation they were in, Azula seemed calm and collected.

She smiled at him slightly, and all thoughts of a suicidal attack against the Dothraki who endeavoured to take her away from him vanished. Did that mean…?

They didn't let him reach her as they led her to the pyre. A sharp spear head kept him at distance.

"Keep her safe." Azula called out to him, her voice never wavering.

Sokka's heart wrenched as he heard her voice. He noticed that Ty Lee was now holding the bundle next to him. The handmaiden from Lys presented her to him and Sokka broke down in muffled sobs as he took his first look at Azula's daughter. Her eyes were open but she made no sound. Piercing blue eyes stared back at him.

His eyes. His daughter. Azula's daughter.

Their daughter.

Azula never turned around to look back. She walked forward to the pyre, head held high, the very picture of elegance and beauty despite the sweat and toll the pregnancy had had on her. Azula whispered something to Mai, but from the distance, Sokka couldn't make out her words. She at last spun when she reached the top of the pyre and glared down at all the people below her. Khal Zhao's lifeless body was stacked on the highest point of the edifice. Azula never once looked at the remains of her husband.

"Ty Lee, why are they still doing this? Her child isn't a boy. She's no threat." He heard himself say in a strangled voice.

The woman touched her braid as tears flowed freely down her face. "Khal Jeong Jeong says that a foreigner has no business being part of Dosh Khaleen and that she should burn alongside her husband like the Khalseeis of olden days were forced." She remarked sadly.

Azula continued to express no emotion, a placid look was plastered across her face. The royal looked for all the world as if she was disinterested with what the Dothraki were about to do to her. Mai rushed forward a large piece of cloth in her hands and lifted it to Azula. No words were said as Azula laid whatever Mai had given her at her feet. The cloth was bundled in a tight swab and surrounded something that was rounded. Her eyes met his again and all at once he thought the world was soon to end.

Sokka was trapped, there were no two ways about it. It was clear the Dothraki were unperturbed now that they knew for certain that the Khaleesi had birthed a daughter. There would be no challenges to their legitimacy as their might have been if Azula had had a boy. That was why they were fine with lighting the child live, why they had ignored it, never even bothering to check and see the truth, other than glancing quickly at the newborn's gender.

She wouldn't want him to throw away his life in a doomed attempt to save her. Perhaps if it had been Zhao's child. Now, knowing as she did that their hopes and dreams were actually answered, Sokka's heart broke. Azula would want him to take their child. To raise her and keep her safe. How could she want that, how could she ask that, knowing that living a life without her would kill him just as surely as that pyre would do to her. A life where every time he looked at his daughter, he would be staring right back into the face of the woman he loved. The thought seemed impossible, and yet, what choice did he have? He couldn't risk his daughter. Gods, he didn't even know if she had a name. Did Azula get the chance to hold her child? Did she even have the opportunity to see her baby? The injustice of the situation made his knees weak and his stomach queasy.

Oh how he wanted to hand the child to Ty Lee, to grab his sword from the ground and make a last stand, a bold and dashing rescue. Saving the woman he loved as he fought against a horde of Dothraki warriors. Yet this wasn't a song. No bards would ever sing, no histories would ever be written of him. Only the sad story of Azula Targaryen, the last dragon, burned to death by the horse lords of Essos, so far from her homeland would be shared in hush tones. No one would ever know of her hidden daughter. No one would ever know of Sokka's undying love for her.

Sokka barely noticed as they tied Azula's hands to the wooden post in the center of the pyre. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he felt Ty Lee's hand resting softly on his shoulder. The young woman couldn't stand to look as the Dothraki doused the wood of the pyre in oil. Her head buried itself in his side, and Sokka had to hold back a wince as his torso still stung from the injury.

The flames rose slowly at first, before they rapidly clawed upwards. They soon engulfed the entire structure in bright orange.. Azula still refused to make a sound as her eyes never left his. Her head was raised proudly as if all those who deigned to judge were beneath her. She mouthed something silently at him, that Sokka couldn't make out. His mind struggled to remember what the last words she had spoken to him were.

This is how it ended. His whole world was tumbling down and there was nothing that Sokka could do. Be strong for his daughter? By the Old Gods, how was that possible. When everything that had ever brought him joy in this bleak, dark world was going up in fire and flames before his very eyes.

The inferno raged unabated and Azula vanished from his sight. Sokka could take no more of it. The Khalasar began to move away. Khal Jeong Jeong looked in his direction and at the child in his arms and smiled. The man leaped onto his horse's back and grasped the reins pulling his horse away from the pyre and away from the broken remnants that stayed behind. Sokka was filled with a blinding rage. One day when his daughter was a woman grown and safe from harm, he would hunt Jeong Jeong to the ends of the earth. One day.

The flames rose higher and higher sending a thick plume of black smoke stretching into the air. Sokka could watch no longer. To his left, Mai was supporting Ty Lee's sorrowful moans of outrage. The babe in his arms finally stirred, crying loudly as the conflagration raged out of control. Sokka felt his knees begin to buckle and someone nearby gave a startled yell and grabbed the newborn from him. Sokka blacked out before he even hit the ground.

Sokka slept through the night. He awoke to find that someone had tended to his wounds and stopped the blood loss, which had been likely responsible for him fainting. He looked around at first panickedly to find his daughter, only to find her safely wrapped and snuggled next to Ty Lee. The woman's eyes were still bloodshot and she sent him a sad smile. She lifted herself to her feet with his daughter in her arms.

The camp that was set up with what remained of the Khal consisted mainly of those who had directly served Azula or who had been freed by her during the course of their travels. It was far from the funeral pyre, which stood on the other side of a large hill. Sokka knew that he shouldn't put himself through looking at the horrific scene one more time... but he had to at least try and get some closure.

Mai looked at him with an expression of pity as he walked in that direction. The camp was quiet even though almost everyone had stirred. Sokka trudged on up the hill, fearful of what he might encounter, but knowing that he had to have proof, unassailable proof that he would never again hold his love in his arms again. Before he had crested the top of the hill, Sokka began to make out sounds unlike anything he had ever heard. They were impossible to understand and they grew nearer and nearer as he climbed the large hill slowly, careful not to reaggravate his wounds.

Sokka had almost just reached the top when felt his heart stop.

At first he deemed it a trick. An illusion. Was it all a dream?

She stood atop the hill like a vision. Covered in soot and ash, naked as the day she was born. Azula Targaryen stared back at him. On her shoulders perched three beasts, and what else could have made such an otherworldly sound? They were dragons. On her right was the largest of the three with scales of onyx and crimson. The left shoulder supported two of the fantastic monsters, a cream and golden one, while the last was pure emerald.

Sokka stumbled as he rushed forward to embrace her. His mind could scarcely believe what he saw. He still couldn't process or understand what was happening. The dragons continued to make excited noises as they flapped their small wings and ceaselessly moved around. Sokka couldn't figure out what to say, but Azula broke the silence as they came face to face.

"The babe?" She asked questioningly.

Had she not seen her before she was forced from her birthing bed?

"Ours. Safe." was the only answer Sokka could force from his throat.

She jumped into his arms as a beautiful smile crossed her face. The dragons hissed at the sudden movement. The emerald one leaped from Azula's shoulder to his own and nestled on his good arm.

They just held each other for what surely was minutes, maybe it was hours… Sokka couldn't tell anymore. His world was full of joy and light. Everything had changed, but as long as Azula was still with him, still beside him, they would always be okay.

"How?" he muttered, almost to himself.

Azula heard him well enough though. "Fire can't kill a dragon was what the Maesters always claimed. I think you ought to be glad they were right."

"I just can't understand… Y-You defy every belief you know that." He said with a chuckle.

"I had to get back to you." She said simply.

Sokka could only respond by capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Now, he felt like a dragon, there was such fire in their embrace at last. Free of the spectre of death and fear. The Khalasar had vanished leaving the two of them free to be together. Free with their daughter… and with Azula's other children.

The emerald dragon nibbled at his ear softly and Sokka gave a low yelp of surprise. "Hey!" he whined.

Azula laughed and the sound was like music to his ears. "Wasn't the green egg the one that you said was warm, my love?" She asked observing him with an amused expression.

He nodded in confusion as the dragon playfully kept trying to play with his earlobe.

"I think that one's yours then. The black one feels like he's mine which means… the white one, that's for our…?" Azula trailed off.

"Daughter. Our daughter." He said with a smile and a sigh of contentment.

"Really Sokka, you haven't named her yet?!" Azula glared at him indignantly.

"Well, uhhh." Sokka rubbed the back of his head and flicked the dragon on his shoulder who was now attempting to lick his eyebrow. "I figured you ought to be the one to do that?" He said hopefully.

She looked at him with a loving expression and pressed her lips against his own.

"Good answer." She said grabbing his hand and walking in the direction of the camp.

His heart had never felt more full of joy as the lyrical chords of dragon song filled the autumn air.