Chapter VI

"So, how's the Mistletoe tradition going?"

"Fairly well, all things considering. Tell me, have you run into your blind friend yet?"

"Pakku, you just saw me walk out of a dead-end ally in the middle of the night, brushing sand out of my hair."

"Fair enough. What is that smell, by the way? Perfume?"

"Frankincense and myrrh. Long story."

The waterbending master shrugged his shoulders. "I simply thought you were hiding."

Mat stopped dead in the snow. "Should I be?"

Pakku kept moving, turning the corner and onto the next street. After a moment of looking up at the night's multitude of twinkling stars, Mat sighed and followed. He caught up, and Pakku spoke again. "I must give grudging respect to my grandson-in-law. This little project of his is turning into a village I can really take pride in."

"I know what you mean," Matthias marveled at the city born of ice and snow. It had really come together in his short time away. "Once the other Southern Chiefs come to conclave and see his work, Sokka's going to be in high demand."

Pakku sniffed. "Whatever gets him out from underfoot. At least Hakoda treats me with a modicum of the respect I deserve."

"Ahh, get over yourself, Pakku." Mat grinned and clapped the older man on the shoulder. "You know it's great to finally have family. Besides, having a gaggle of friends and relatives crowding your home is a holiday staple no matter what world you're on."

"I'll have to take your word for it." Pakku said dryly, "But that just begs the question...if it's such a staple, why aren't you home for the holidays yourself?"

Mat grew quiet, and as the joviality drained out of his face Pakku thought the boy suddenly looked entirely too worn for his comparatively fewer years.

"I don't really have a home. Not anymore, at least. But hey, you know me," Mat forced a smile to his face. "Even if I did, it's not like I'd really get some time to relax. The Old Man has me running ragged, especially around this time of year."

Resisting the urge to comment on just how well he knew of "The Old Man" and his machinations, Pakku instead awkwardly returned Mat's earlier clap on the shoulder and steered him onto the villages main street.

"Have you seen our new village square yet, Traveler?"

Still doing his best to shake off what remained of his cloudy mood, Mat was taken off guard by the question. "Just walked out of an allyway, remember?"

"Like I said earlier," Pakku continued on as if he hadn't had spoken, "Sokka did an adequate job designing the plans and directing the construction. But really, it was myself and the other waterbenders that brought a sense of elegance and sophistication to the final product."

"No arguments here." Mat said as he marveled at the intricate swirling archways of cold, clear crystal. The huge domed rooftops, bent an arctic blue that seemed to glow in the night sky. Even windows of clear ice that had been crafted amid walls of solid, sturdy snow.

"Yes, well above and beyond even our considerable skills and talents, I suppose something must also be said..." They had come to the end of the road and the main square that finished it. Mat passed beneath a final archway and stopped dead once again. "About the décor as well." Pakku murmured.

All around them, the darkness of night gave way to golden radiance. Lanterns of all shapes and sizes—from traditional Southern Water Tribe Whale bone, to Fire Nation Paper, and even Sokka's flameless lemon lamps—bathed the square in warm hues, bouncing patterns off the ice as they swayed in a gentle breeze.

And everywhere, everywhere, mistletoe hung. Sprigs of milk-white berries and forest green leaves dangled in windowsills, or hung from doorways. Some had even been braided together in complex swirls of pattern to trail along archways and the sides of buildings. Wherever he looked, Mat's vision was filled with the colors green, white, and gold.

"...How?" he choked.

"Apparently that village the Avatar remembered from one hundred years ago still exists, and it seems their...eccentrics...have only grown with time. When he flew up and explained he wanted to surprise a friend, they were all to happy to trade some of their store."

"Surprise?" Mat turned, questioning. "For who?"

Pakku just gave him a look, one so intense that Mat had to turn away, so the old man wouldn't see the gambit of emotions playing across his face.

"They pick up on more than you realize, Traveler." Pakku spoke quietly. "Even the blind one—especially the blind one—can see you've gone through as many trials and tribulations as they themselves have. Why would they not want you to find the same peace they we are all now enjoying?"

"This...This isn't right." Mat swallowed, and wondered when his eyes got so itchy without him noticing. Must be the arctic air. "You've all done so much for me, when I'm supposed to leave no impression at all." He laughed, a short, sharp bark that held no mirth and cracked at the end. "I'm going to catch hell for this, I just know it. The Old Man's going to flip."

"Perhaps. But you're young, and it's the holidays. Why not enjoy yourself while you can, consequences be damned?"

This time, Mat's laughter was genuine. "Pakku, these southerners sure have brought out your inner rebel."

Pakku rolled his eyes and snorted. "Blame my wife. I know I do."

The White Phoenix turned to regard him again. This time his face was joyful, his eyes watery but crinkled at their edges in smile. "Thank you, Pakku. Truly."

The elderly man waved him off. "Don't thank me, boy. I was against the idea from the get-go. Now the villagers will insist this garishness be strung up every year, I just know it."

"All the same, I wish I could so you just how much I appreciate—"

His voiced was drowned out as a particularly strong breeze blew through the golden square. Windowpanes it rattled, drifts of snow swirled to and fro, and one of the hanging pieces of mistletoe broke loose from it's binding to list, twirl, and spin through the air and land right at their feet.

Mat numbly took in the branchlet, green and white and oh-so-traitorous, before shifting his gaze up to Pakku. The waterbending master looked like he'd just been fed a lemon.

"Uhh..." Mat looked over his shoulder, checking that they were alone before softly making a suggestion. "How about we just shake hands?"

"Pakku nodded once. "I won't tell if you won't.

The clasped hands, shook once, and refused to make eye contact for the rest of the season.

...\/...\/...\/...

So this is for my good friend, apparent fan, and best fan-art-machine I've ever known, TaiKaze. She's been one of the biggest commentators on TAS, (and most all of my work, for that matter.) and our ongoing dialog has been motivation for me to keep on writing more times then I can remember. I've never met her in person, what with there being several thousand miles of ocean between us, but I cannot imagine calling her anything but a friend.

Happy holidays, Tai. Hope you enjoy.

And to everyone else: HOLY STUFF THIS PIECE GOT AWAY FROM ME. Don't expect anything else this long for these winter requests, please. Not because your requests are any less interesting or important to me, but because if I put as much length and time into each one as I did this, we'll be here till march before I finally finish.

That said, next up on the list...Loopy's Mai Vs. Sokka: Does snow make or break a holiday? (giving loopy a nod for his Lemon Lamp idea, which I totally stole from one of his stories because it was so awesome. If you haven't gone and absolutely plundered his gallery yet, why are you still here? Scoot!