A long time ago he'd sat atop a mound of snow in the South Pole, frowning angrily into the horizon at the unfairness of it all: he had been forced to stay with the women and children for years, thinking, and hoping, that his father would return victorious from his quest to the outside world. Yet when his father had returned he had brought the worst tidings possible: the Fire Nation had as good as taken over the whole world, the man who had virtually been Sokka's uncle had died in battle, and his only childhood friend, someone he had remembered fondly despite the sad terms of his departure to the Northern Water Tribe, had apparently become a monster.
He didn't want to accept any of it. He had buried his face in his forearms and forced himself not to give in to the weakness of crying over how messed up their reality was, but it just wasn't fair. It wasn't right. He had stayed here, he had done nothing, while the world fell apart beyond the borders of the South Pole. He could have helped his father, he was sure. He could have saved Rhone, too…
"It's not your fault."
He cringed at the sound of his father's voice. The knot in his throat grew tighter as his heavy hand fell upon Sokka's shoulder.
Hakoda took his seat beside him, joining him in gazing into the horizon hopelessly. Sokka swallowed hard: he was frustrated by his forced inaction, but his father had been out in the world, fighting to his utmost with the Tribe's warriors, and he had failed to tip the scales for the better: he hadn't changed the war's outcome and he had lost his best friend. The same grief that was true for Sokka was true for his father, tormenting them relentlessly.
"It wasn't yours that… t-that he died, either," Sokka whispered, with a hoarse voice that hardly wanted to come out of his throat.
"Well, that one's hard to say," whispered Hakoda. "But he made his choice to buy time so the rest of us could get away. It seems I have to learn to live with it."
"I don't know how to learn to live with what you said Rhone did, though, Dad," said Sokka, frowning. "It's just… I can't understand it. It's so horrible, and nobody on his right mind would ever…"
"No, nobody would," said Hakoda, his hand on the back of Sokka's neck now. "Either something in Rhone has changed beyond recognition, or this wasn't his doing. I really don't think the boy we knew would have committed such crimes."
"Well, good. Because there's no way he would have," said Sokka, stubbornly.
"No, of course not," said Hakoda, sighing.
He had proceeded to tell Sokka that they had to move past it, regardless of the truth. Sokka had nodded, but he was relieved to know his father agreed with him. Whatever had happened in the North Pole couldn't possibly have been done by a kid like Rhone. It made no sense: he had to be innocent. All odds said as much, didn't they?
At least, that's what he had wanted to believe. That was how he had managed to get by without worrying too much about the matter during the years that followed. But it had been seventeen years since he had seen those eyes, and just meeting that glacial blue gaze with his own gave him the answers he had dreaded to obtain:
Rhone was the Kinslayer.
And Rhone was also a far cry from the child Sokka had immortalized in his memory.
He had always been taller than Sokka, and that hadn't changed even now. Sokka had grown even taller than his father in his late teenage years: Rhone had outdone him, though, standing at least half a head higher than he did. His hair was just as dark as ever, such deep brown it was almost black, and his skin was darker than Sokka's… darker and smoother, though. Sokka scowled, for there were no scars in sight in Rhone's body. Granted, he wasn't naked or so… but his arms were mostly bare, and where Sokka bore all sorts of injuries by his previous opponents across his own arms, there were no such scars on Rhone's.
What stood out the most for Sokka was that glare, however. It was so cold, so vicious… it was unlike anything he had ever associated with his old friend. He would have never thought it was him if the color of his eyes, lighter than Sokka's, hadn't betrayed his identity with ease.
But it had to be him. Even if so much time had passed, his features remained more or less the same: his nose was still long and straight, his lips thick. There was recognition in that glare, too: it wasn't the rage of someone like the Stingray, who had hated Sokka viscerally despite not knowing him at all. This was a reencounter, despite it was nothing like how Sokka imagined it would be, if it happened at all.
He was speechless, unable to articulate a single word under his rival's scrutiny. It didn't seem Rhone wanted to speak either.
It took all of Sokka's willpower to lower his head slowly, his brow drawing together as he accepted that, whatever he had endured during the last seventeen years, Rhone was the picture of hostility right now. Whatever his reasons might be to glare at Sokka that way, if there were any reasons to begin with, this would be far from a heartfelt, cheerful reunion between two good friends.
"Rhone," he finally whispered, his voice almost failing him. He hadn't wanted to sound weak, but his conflicted emotions rendered him an anxious mess. He could hardly think properly, let alone could he speak clearly, without any hesitation…
It didn't seem the man took kindly to hearing Sokka uttering his name, though. The glare on his face was accentuated with an angry scowl, as he took further steps forward in the ring of ash.
"Sokka."
The voice was deep, but not of the soothing kind. It was nothing like how Sokka recalled Rhone's voice but, then again, he probably would have been more disturbed if a six-year-old's voice had come out of that behemoth's throat. Creepy as this voice was, at least it matched his appearance well enough.
"I didn't want to believe it," Sokka said, gritting his teeth. "I really had hoped it wouldn't be you."
"If you suspected it to begin with, it means you… you know of what I did," said Rhone, raising his eyebrows slowly. His voice seemed to tremble as he spoke. Sokka grimaced.
"I heard things, yeah, but… but you're here to tell me they weren't true, right? That you were framed, that someone else…" Sokka said, stepping towards him until Rhone's dry smirk made him freeze on the spot.
His words got lost as soon as he saw that expression on the face of someone he had once thought of as a friend. His body felt cold, almost numb, as his rational mind processed what it meant, but his emotional mind, the one linked with his heart, refused to accept it.
"Just like you were tricked, I guess?" Rhone said. "Just like you were brainwashed into doing the Fire Nation's bidding? That's what you think happened?"
Another figurative stab straight into his chest, unlikely to be the last during this match. Sokka's eyes widened. So… so that was what this was about. All the challenges, this obsessive chase by the Kinslayer to find the Blue Wolf…
The horror in Sokka's face contorted into anger.
"U-uh, the fight has been arranged to last fifteen minutes!" one of the staff members shouted, once the two men stopped talking. There was no megaphone, or anything of the sort, in the Ring of Ash. "So… are you ready? Well then, ready and… start!"
His words were but a formality, but as the sand started pouring down in the hourglass, neither of the men made a move. They were still glaring at one another, but now with further rage than before, from either side.
"I've heard stories. Thousands of them, each more misleading and confusing than the next," Rhone growled. "I've heard rumors, dark rumors, that speak of you growing… complacent. That you've become another of their puppets. That you've let the Fire Lord's daughter do as she pleases with you, as if you were merely her plaything, her…"
"Shut your mouth," Sokka snapped, his voice deepening too as his own eyes turned glacial. He could stand it if Rhone rubbed in his face the shortcomings he was well aware of, the flaws in his actions, the mistakes he had made that, in Sokka's eyes, weren't mistakes at all.
But if he dared speak against Azula he would make him pay: he had no doubt other friendships had shattered over less.
"Oh. So that's how it works? She's your weak spot now? Then I guess all of it was true, wasn't it?" Rhone asked, snarling. "You really have been brainwashed?"
"You don't know a damn thing of what you're talking about," Sokka said. "So do us both a favor and quit speaking of my life like it's any of your business. Like… like a man who murders his own family has any right to treat me like scum. Like a man who commits that sort of crime and then wears his sins proudly can act high and mighty towards me."
"Funny thing is, you don't know a damn thing of what you're talking about," Rhone repeated, with a subtle mocking tone. Sokka's anger only increased with that. "But of course, you'd think everything you'd heard is exactly as it sounds. You would assume I'm insane, that I killed them for no reason, that I merely…"
"You're seriously sick if you truly think that there's anything in the world that would excuse what you did," Sokka said, shaking his head. "If you truly are responsible for that atrocity, you…"
"Oh? So I'm sick and twisted, and you're a blood traitor. The South Pole's next generation of leaders, comprised by two scumbags like us," said Rhone, with a sardonic smile. "Maybe the world does deserve to end, then. If we're really that screwed up, maybe the Fire Nation has always been in the right, huh? Maybe they really should kill us all, slaughter our people, burn our lands to the ground, take away everything we ever cared for…"
"They might not need to bother, seeing how Kinslayers are doing the job for them as it is," Sokka snapped. Rhone flinched, the impact of Sokka's words surprising them both. But Sokka was far from done as it was. "You really… you're just shielding yourself behind your belief that the Fire Nation's crimes are worse than your own."
"If you dare say they're not…"
"Who the hell cares what's worse? Your sin should be enough to stop you from judging everyone else and acting like you're so much better than they are," Sokka snapped. "It was bad enough that that freak, the damn Stingray, thought he'd lecture me about betraying my people when I've done things for them that nobody would ever begin to imagine. But you, after what you've done, you seriously think you have the right to talk to me like this? That you can stand up on some moral high ground and look down on me because I'm sponsored by the Princess? Because I've grown used to my new life?"
"You call it a life? You really do?" Rhone asked. "Doing her bidding, fighting like a savage in some gruesome slave league… that's a life for you? Killing other gladiators is your new life?"
"Not killing them anymore is my new life," Sokka growled, narrowing his eyes. "I had to do it at first. Never again."
"And then you claim I'm the one lecturing others about moral high grounds", said Rhone, shaking his head. "But you think you're so much better than me because you won't kill your enemies? Well, rest assured, I don't kill all of them: only the firebenders."
Sokka shuddered, disbelief reflected in his eyes. Rhone seemed to be the embodiment of everything Sokka had avoided becoming during the last years: he had helped Azula see truths she had denied, and they had promised to make the world a better place together… and Rhone would gladly kill her if he had the chance, regardless of her hopes to change the Fire Nation's misguided ways, all because she was a firebender. Sokka had been much like Rhone once, too… but he took genuine pride in having grown out of it.
"You really are as sick and twisted as I always told myself you couldn't be," Sokka muttered. "I didn't dare believe it, but… but you're nothing like the boy I knew. Nothing."
"Well, the boy I knew would have gladly died after killing the Fire Lord with his own hands," said Rhone. "But… I guess he's too much of a coward to act on his beliefs by now, is he? A pity. Your reckless bravery was always your better feature. That is, until you showed your true colors and left me in that cave to rot…"
Sokka's eyes widened. Rhone lifted a hand towards a large hilt on his back, and Sokka watched aghast as Rhone withdrew his dadao sword from his scabbard. No, they weren't here to talk after all. They were here so… so Rhone would take his revenge on him, it seemed? Sokka cringed. He didn't want to make excuses for himself, for the things he had done… but he hadn't left Rhone to rot in that cave. The cave-in had been an accident, utterly unforeseen, and it hadn't been his fault that his friend had lagged behind. And as Azula had told him, if he hadn't found help, Rhone would have certainly died…
As he took in the sight of the furious man before him, with his sword in tow, he realized that it had been too late: he hadn't saved the six-year-old Rhone after all.
The boy he had known as Rhone had died in that cave, leaving only this murderous wretch in his place.
"Maybe I shouldn't have gotten anyone to help you," Sokka growled, his eyes darkening as he reached for his sword as well. The cruelty with which he uttered those words was just as sharp as his blade, but he was far past the point of caring about hurting Rhone's feelings by then. "To think I had them save your life just so you could condemn everyone else in your place… maybe letting you die would have been the wiser choice."
"So much for lifelong friends," said Rhone, a mix between contempt and a smirk in his face. "I suppose it's better that way, though. Who needs a traitor as a friend anyway?"
"That should be my line, you bastard," Sokka growled. Rhone actually barked out with laughter once.
"You'd wish it were, Blue Wolf. You'd wish!"
That his enemy would be so fast startled Sokka. It seemed agility wouldn't be the way to beat Rhone, for he was ridiculously quick for such a large man. Sokka cringed and swung his sword forward, parrying the opponent's attack with difficulty as Rhone put his entire weight behind the blow.
Rhone slid the blade down to Space Sword's hilt, in an attempt to unbalance Sokka, but the Blue Wolf used the opportunity to twirl their swords down and readied himself to kick Rhone…
A stab of pain on his leg made him lose his footing. Rhone had kicked first.
Sokka jumped back, and the large dadao whistled as it swung vertically, just where Sokka's head had been brief moments earlier. He knew Rhone wouldn't give him any respite, the man's aggressiveness had established that much already, but even so, he hadn't expected him to be so fast, so ruthless… he had to keep up somehow. He had no choice but to do so. His very life would hinge on it.
And unlike how it had been in his early days as a gladiator, he wasn't going to face Rhone hoping he'd deliver the death he was certain he deserved. To this day he wasn't sure if he deserved to live, though he was still sure he didn't deserve to do so at the expenses of the lives he had taken. But he was alive, alright: he was alive, and he had to fight wars bigger than this scuffle with Rhone. He had a reason to live, and someone who expected him to survive. Someone who wanted him by her side, no matter what.
He refused to let her down.
When Rhone lashed forth again, Sokka feinted another step backwards. His opponent swung his sword back, expecting to have enough time to add power to his new attack, but he didn't foresee Sokka jumping forward barely an instant after stepping back. Rhone was forced to spin to evade Sokka's stab, but in doing so he swung his sword down on Sokka either way. His armor took the blow, a powerful vibration that made Sokka's entire body tremble as he scrambled out of the way.
He breathed heavily as he prepared himself for whatever came next, knowing he couldn't let Rhone have another chance to reach him with his attacks. The man was ruthless, and Sokka had been saved by luck. Had he been any slower, the sword could have cut cleanly through his neck and…
… He shook his head as he eyed Rhone with disbelief. The man snarled at him, his sword tightly gripped. How had it come to this? Of all the things he had ever expected, of every possible reunion he could have imagined…
"Having second thoughts about fighting me all of sudden?" Rhone asked, reading through Sokka easily. "Scared because you know I'll kill you?"
"Aghast because I realize you really would," said Sokka, shaking his head. "You really would, even though… even though we were friends once. But if you could murder your parents, I guess killing an old friend is barely a warmup for you."
"We were brats," Rhone said, lifting his sword again. "I thought I understood you, that we believed the same things, and yet…!"
"I thought the same, damn it!" Sokka shouted. "I thought…! I thought you were anything but what you've become! And yet you can't see that just as you have your reasons to be disappointed in me, I have mine to be disappointed in you?!"
"You understand nothing! Nothing of what I've been through, nothing of what I've had to do!" Rhone bellowed. "You've just gone and taken the easy way out, clung onto someone who could give you the easy life and turned your back on everything you once believed in! What right would you have to be disappointed after doing that?!"
"Funny thing is, I'm a coward, going by how you see it," Sokka said, with a bark of disbelieving laughter. "Maybe that's what I am! But you? You're a bloody madman who thinks he had every right to commit the crimes he did, and now you act like my cowardice has cost the lives even your madness didn't? Like I'm worse than you?!"
"I may have killed them. My parents, the firebenders, all of them," Rhone snapped. "But you've sold out the Tribes! You've…!"
"I've saved them, you thick-skulled, loud-mouthed psycho!" Sokka yelled. "But I guess for someone like you there's just no difference between both things, right?! You probably think you did best by your parents by killing them, after all, so…!"
"I did best to kill them for you!" Rhone shouted. Sokka froze. "I did it… I did it for your family! For our Tribe! For your loss! But then the next thing I knew, oh, the next thing I knew… my friend, my good friend, whom I was willing to forgive after what happened in that cave, was now sleazing around behind that pretentious bitch, feeding off her hand, playing her games and…!"
The flash of blue was so fast Rhone hardly had time to parry the boomerang with his sword. Before he knew it Sokka had dashed forth, his sword in tow, his eyes sharpened by wrath. Rhone braced himself, aghast to find Sokka reacting so explosively upon hearing him speak of his sponsor as he had. She really had taken over his old friend, hadn't she…?
The rage fueling Sokka now was beyond control, it seemed, for he swung Space sword at full speed, aiming at Rhone's hilt. With all the power he could use to back his attack, he swept down on the weapon… and as it had happened with others before it, the metal gave way under the sharp edge of Sokka's sword: Rhone lost his blade.
Rhone lifted his free hand to his waist, reaching for a Water Tribe makeshift knife, but it was too late for him to evade Sokka's stab this time. The black sword slid cleanly through his thigh, a shot of pain bursting in his skin as blood coated Space Sword.
Rhone slammed the shattered hilt of his broken dadao blade into Sokka's face, forcing him to fall back as the blunt blow struck him on the cheekbone. Sokka stumbled back, gripping Space Sword tightly still, his free hand reaching to touch the promised bruise that would sprout over his face. Well, he sure would look dashing now…
Yet he knew he had delivered more damage to Rhone. He knew it, for Space Sword had sunk deep inside his opponent's leg, and there was no way he could recover from that without…
Sokka's eyes widened as he watched Rhone roar angrily and step forward, regardless of the pain.
The man was mental: there were no doubts left in Sokka's mind as Rhone steeled himself, gathering his strength as he stood his ground. Was he seriously going to keep moving and fighting despite his muscle had been pierced? What on earth was he doing as he roared as he did?
After groaning with anger one last time, Rhone lifted his gaze again. The blue eyes, cold as they had been, now looked darker than before. His snarl grew less pronounced, and Sokka noticed he made efforts to breathe evenly… was he trying to regulate his body into functioning despite the wound? That couldn't possibly work, could it?
When he leapt at Sokka again while hardly wincing under the pain of the wound, Sokka's convictions about Rhone shook again. No doubt the man was insane, but… how was he doing this? Was it the rush of fighting that kept him going? Did his injuries make him stronger somehow? Whatever it was, it was terrifying to watch him rush at him in blind rage, bleeding out through his leg so profusely.
Sokka parried the knife's attack, but Rhone produced another knife, now of Earth Kingdom making, and made to stab Sokka's forearm. The Blue Wolf's quick movement kept him from receiving an injury, but he couldn't foresee the kick that struck him in the stomach next, distracted by the blades as he had been.
He swung Space Sword clumsily towards Rhone's outstretched leg, but naturally, Rhone pulled back and dashed forth again as soon as the threat was gone. Sokka shrunk on his frame, barrel-rolling towards Rhone's legs, but to his disbelief, Rhone leapt over him despite his wound. What was it with that man? Was he even human? How could he still move, jump, run, attack with such a deep wound in his leg?
Sokka decided to stop pondering the question. Whether it made sense or not, it was happening anyways. He had met people with unbelievable skills in the Arena before, this wasn't all that strange…
Besides, with that wound in mind, he had to be winning. There was no way the judges would give Rhone the victory if Sokka kept up like this.
His barrel-roll landed him right next to his boomerang. He tossed it at Rhone again, hoping to strike a chi point, but Rhone heard the weapon whistling in the wind. He ducked and evaded it, stretching out both his knives as he readied himself both for Sokka and for the return of the boomerang. Sokka gritted his teeth and jumped forward.
The boomerang rebounded on Rhone's knife, and Sokka caught it in mid-air before slamming his sword down on Rhone's other weapon. The Kinslayer sought to stab Sokka, and he parried the attack with his boomerang now. Another attempt, now by pushing Space Sword back, and another stab at Sokka's chest… Sokka blocked it with difficulty, hesitating to cut through Rhone's arm as he had with his leg. He couldn't do it. He couldn't maim his friend irreparably as he had with previous opponents, regardless of everything he'd said and done…
It wasn't that he didn't deserve it, or that Sokka cared too much about him still to damage him so badly… but maybe he did care enough to think that this couldn't be the way to resolve this. Rhone resented him over what had happened in the cave, he'd said. He believed Sokka had left him to rot, that Sokka was a coward…
But he had claimed he had murdered his parents for Sokka's sake. Either Rhone was digressing and making associations that made no sense whatsoever, or Sokka lacked information that Rhone hadn't deemed worth sharing with him. How did the death of his parents have anything to do with Sokka? What had his parents possibly done to convince Rhone that, to help his old friend, he had no choice but to kill them?
There was no sense in any of it. As Rhone's knives crashed against Sokka's weapons repeatedly, he could only stare into the glare of his opponent and struggle hopelessly to discover the truth behind all the secrets he refused to reveal. There was nothing Rhone could do or say to change Sokka's opinion about his murders, but there was an even more disturbing element in them if Rhone had claimed to commit them for Sokka's sake somehow.
Rhone attempted to knock Sokka off his feet again, but the Blue Wolf remained steady where he stood. He pushed Rhone mightily, but his opponent's large frame made it hard for Sokka to push him further than a single step back. He cringed as he readied himself for Rhone's upcoming assault, turning his sword slightly so that it would slide through Rhone's knife cleanly.
Rhone's reflexes were extraordinary: any other man would have fallen face-first into Space Sword's sharp edge, but once the knife was cut, he moved away quickly to avoid another injury by the sword. Only this time, instead of slamming the hilt of his broken blade into Sokka's face, he stabbed him with the remnants of the metal, in the inner side of his elbow.
Sokka shouted before kicking Rhone, attempting to put distance between them unsuccessfully. The blade remained lodged where it was, and Rhone attempted to sink it lower still. Sokka had to drop Space Sword, most regretfully, for his arm hurt too much to hold it anymore. He roared and, instead of pulling away as he had at first, he jumped forth and slammed his head against Rhone's face. It was the only way to make him stop twisting that damned knife into his open wound.
Sokka pulled out the knife's remnants, the blood trickling down his arm. He huffed and breathed heavily, staring at the weapon in sheer horror. He only hoped it hadn't been laced with poison of any kind, or else he was certain to have a very unpleasant death in no time. His right arm was as good as useless right now.
Rhone jumped to his feet, ready to defend himself. The headbutt had taken him off-base, but he should have known better. Sokka was far more disciplined and powerful than he remembered him – time had changed his former friend in far too many ways –, but he was still as unpredictable as he had been in his childhood. Rhone had no choice but to try to prepare for him, albeit he knew that Sokka was certain to take him by surprise whenever he found a chance to do so. He simply needed to avoid giving him that chance.
Despite his attempt to ignore the pain in his leg, Rhone's movements had been slowed. It was hard for him not to realize what this fight would result in if it were up to Sokka and his ridiculously sharp sword. His old friend had developed power and skills beyond Rhone's expectations, despite he had prepared for their combat all the same. He had no doubt he was superior to Sokka in terms of physical strength, but that wretched sword… as long as Sokka kept using it, Rhone was in danger of losing the weapons he had left. He couldn't let that happen, or this challenge would go sideways completely. He had a mission to finish.
Sokka gasped and put away his boomerang for the time being. He couldn't possibly use his two weapons in the sorry state his right arm was in right now. He had to resort to his left arm only. He frowned as he studied Rhone carefully: he'd jump to attack him at any given moment, for certain. But he'd want to attempt a feint, in order to reach Sokka more effectively once he'd fallen or the ruse. Yet he couldn't possibly feint to his left, with his leg torn open as it was. As soon as Rhone tried to feint, it'd be Sokka's chance to strike him.
His prediction came true soon enough, and the snarling man came rushing at him, but now with an unexpected weapon in his hands. Sokka's eyes widened as he laid eyes on what could only be a metal boomerang. Could that thing soar through the air as intended? When Rhone cast it with a powerful toss, he realized it could. Sokka dodged the boomerang's first lap, knowing the second would come soon, but also knowing Rhone was going to attack him before it reached him. He braced himself, lifting Space Sword with his left hand while calculating the boomerang's trajectory in his mind. If he jumped to the right he'd avoid it, for certain.
He parried another projectile Rhone tossed at him, the remnants of his broken sword, and he jumped as intended to evade the boomerang. Rhone caught it, rushing out to slam it into Sokka's sword, but Sokka dodged him. If he wasn't going to feint attack at all, then it'd be up to Sokka to finish Rhone off now.
He lunged forward, ready to stab through Rhone's other leg, the one he'd need to support his weight on…
The leg shifted. Sokka's eyes widened. Rhone had changed his weight, supporting himself on his wounded leg instead…?
He only had a brief moment to understand what had happened before blazing, blinding pain sprung on his back.
He shouted as he collapsed, the pain rendering his legs useless. What on earth had happened? What had Rhone done to him? How had he hurt him so badly, how had he changed his legs' weight when no normal person would be able to do that…?
Whatever Rhone had done was still hurting him, though… He reached back with his functional hand, releasing his sword in the process, to find the metal boomerang had been lodged into his lower back, right next to his spine, hardly above his waist bone. He cringed as he removed it, and he tossed it back just as he heard Rhone approaching. He could see from over his shoulder that Rhone had to duck after the projectile flew faster at him than he had anticipated.
The metal boomerang soared and fell right outside the ring, the throw too lousy for it to return to the man who had cast it. Rhone didn't seem to mind, though: he approached Sokka menacingly, the fragments of his dadao in his hand still. Sokka's fists clenched.
His only good hand was his only hope. There was only one thing he could do at this point, pitiful as it was, but with useless legs and a wounded arm he was never going to win either way. He had done well in the fight, until now. He still couldn't feel his legs, and he cringed and berated himself for his failure to fend off the enemy as he started crawling with difficulty. His arm's muscles tensed up as he relied on it to push his entire body away from Rhone, away from that broken sword that would no doubt cut through his back again, his head, his neck, anywhere Rhone could reach if he could get away with it. He couldn't give him that chance. Cowardly as it might be, shameful as it was, he couldn't let Rhone kill him. He simply couldn't…
"Well, that's a sight. You, writhing on the ground like this…" he heard Rhone saying. "I never thought the day would come, and yet here it is… and I mean to bask in it, if you don't mind."
"Y-you're… y-you're insane…" Sokka groaned, clutching at the ashes and pushing himself more desperately. Rhone let out a low laugh.
"And you're dead," he said, as Sokka continued to crawl, clasping a fistful of grass and using it to push himself further. "This is as far as you'll get, Blue Wolf."
Sokka didn't care for his words: he'd made it. He was there by now. He had done as he'd been told, and he was already out of the ash, so…
"The fight is over!"
The judge's declaration almost made him smile, but when he let himself glance over his shoulder again, he found, to his horror, that Rhone hadn't heard the man. Or if he had, he simply did not care: he stood hardly a few feet away from Sokka, and he raised his dadao, his blue eyes gleaming with lethal coldness.
The fight was over. It was over. He couldn't just… he couldn't. There was no way he'd do it, he'd already won, he didn't have to kill him…
Rhone hadn't come here to play by the rules, though. Sokka's mouth contorted into a snarl. The bastard meant to murder him, regardless of what it might cost him in the long run. He would kill Sokka, and surely he would sleep like a baby afterwards, that is, if he survived long enough to sleep again. He would kill Sokka, whether with a broken blade, his bare fists, or with kicks, or with any possible means he could find to do it.
One word repeated itself in Sokka's mind as he watched his old friend, prepared to strike him down: why? Why had it come to this? Why had his friend become what he had? Why was Rhone taking out all his rage on him? Why had everything become so twisted, so sickening, so…?
He cringed as Rhone held up the broken sword, and Sokka closed his eyes just before feeling an unexpected brush of heat near him.
Rhone jumped back, and Sokka opened his eyes again to find blue blazes dancing between him and his opponent. Blue blazes that disappeared eventually, only to be replaced by the only person who could bend them.
Azula stood before Sokka, her fingers stretched out after casting a fire blast to keep the murderous gladiator away from Sokka. It had worked, for Rhone had put distance between himself and the firebender as soon as he realized someone else had joined them in the ring.
Sokka's eyes widened as he looked at her in terror: she shouldn't be there. She had to get back to the stands, away from Rhone, out of his sight. The bastard would kill her too if he had the chance, and even if Azula scorched the skin off his bones he would still keep rushing forward, relentlessly forward, in his attempt to destroy her, just as he had with Sokka…
"A-Azula, n-no…" Sokka gasped, but the Princess didn't hear him.
Her eyes glowered with unrestrained fury, matching Rhone's, but unlike him, she wasn't confused and surprised. There was something lethal in her eyes, something Rhone could recognize easily: it was the same cruel steel he bore in his own.
"Lift that sorry blade of yours one more time, and it's the last thing you'll ever do," she vowed, her voice soft yet threatening all the same.
She defied him with her gaze, but Rhone was still frozen in place, staring at her and Sokka with confusion.
"T-the fight has ended…" said someone else, from the stands. Rhone's eyes darted towards them, realizing it was his sponsor who spoke. "It's over. He's… he's out of the ring. We've won."
Rhone snarled with irritation. He glared at Sokka, feeling a powerful urge to spit at him, to throw his broken sword's hilt at him, to show just how worthless he truly was in his eyes…
"You'd rather roll out of the ring like a coward than fight to the death," he said. "I guess the Fire Nation has rubbed off on you after all, huh?"
He glared at Azula as he finished his sentence. Azula's own scowl grew sharper. If he gave her one more reason, she would do it. She didn't give a damn if Sokka never forgave her, but she would finish off that rotten scumbag if he kept provoking her. She was already at her limit – in fact, her limit was long broken by now –, but he didn't seem to want to lay off yet. He held her gaze with insolence, and she couldn't help but wonder if all Southern Water Tribesmen were defiant by nature. But where she could find it endearing with Sokka more often than not, despite how irritating it could be on occasion, with Rhone she felt her most vicious instincts clawing at her, begging her to fight him now that her gladiator was unable to. Begging her to destroy him, because there was no way a man like that should be allowed to live…
Yet Rhone shook his head, walking backwards, but towards his sponsor all the same. He didn't take his eyes off Azula, enraged by her interruption and wary of what she'd do if he turned his back on her. He hadn't expected her to do it, but the fact that she had come to Sokka's rescue only fueled his wrath further. Why was she saving her puppet slave anyways? Was it too bothersome to find a new one, by any chance? She didn't break their eye contact, though, her fingers still threatening to bend in his direction if he made the slightest misstep towards Sokka. But he didn't. All he did was glare at them with contempt, as his sponsor, already holding the money he'd earned from the fight, ushered him to leave the Arena with him.
Azula didn't lower her hand until Rhone finally turned his back on them, already outside the Ring of Ash's premises. By then she turned too, kneeling beside Sokka, who was gasping with difficulty as staff members rushed to him, along with Governor Kuan and Blazing Strike.
"It's not that deep a wound, it seems!" said the woman who led the team of physicians from the Arena, after inspecting Sokka's lower back. "But we need to tend to him elsewhere, someplace better than…"
"My house!" Governor Kuan suggested. "It's not far, I have a carriage, you can start tending to him there…"
"You'll be alright, Sokka," Azula whispered, trying not to sound as uncertain as she felt. She had been anxious over the injury to his back as soon as Rhone's hit had landed there, and the physician's initial report hadn't appeased her just yet. "Come on, can you stand?"
"I… I don't think so …" he groaned, his free hand reaching out for her. "A-are you…? Y-you're… you're okay, right…? H-he didn't…?"
"I'm not the one we should be worrying about right now, Sokka. He's gone," said Azula, leaning down to help him up. He cringed. "Please, Sokka…"
Blazing Strike leaned down to help too, but it wasn't until the physicians showed up with a stretcher that they were able to move Sokka at all. They lifted him quickly, headed for Kuan's carriage right away. Only two physicians followed them, and Kuan assured Azula he would call the city's most trustworthy medics to help tend to her gladiator. Azula could only thank him for it with a nod, her face pale as she watched the two physicians trying to slow down Sokka's bleeding.
She had watched the fight with unease from the start, feeling an urge to intervene that she hadn't experienced since Sokka's earliest fights. The urge had been stronger than ever, in fact: Sokka hadn't done a poor job, but he had fought as he always did, and a madman like Rhone had demanded a lot more force than that to be stopped.
Despite Sokka's ruthlessness once Rhone had taunted him successfully, Azula knew he had never considered killing his former friend; he hadn't even meant to maim him, as he had maimed the Stingray. If he had been willing to go to those extremes, perhaps he could have dealt enough significant damage to slow down his enemy… but whatever fondness Sokka still felt for the man had stayed his hand, she had no doubts about it. He could have won, but only through murder… and she knew Sokka didn't want to kill anyone else, ever again. Even in circumstances as ruthless as today's, he couldn't do it. He refused to. And all Azula could gather from this was that his refusal could easily result in his death if anything like this happened again…
She felt the urge to touch him, as she watched him languishing on his stomach at the opposite end of the carriage. To clasp his hand, to feel him with her. She had intervened just in time, and only upon realizing that Rhone wouldn't stop until Sokka was dead. She had broken no rules, and he had survived… but his wounds worried her beyond belief. It was clear he was in a world of pain, even if not as bad as after his first fight with Toph… but even if he had taken only two dangerous wounds and a few bruises, they had been far more painful and damaging than most he had received until now.
Sokka was carried into the house and it took a short time for Kuan's doctors to arrive. He was taken to the nearest available room, and the physicians got to work with him immediately, to stop the blood loss as quickly as possible. Azula stayed in the room through the whole process, cringing with each of Sokka's cries of pain as they treated him. All the while she mentally cursed Rhone in every way she could, loathing him for all the damage he had wrought upon Sokka, in all the senses in which he had damaged him. She cursed herself, too… for she had told Sokka to do this. She had suggested they try it, thinking Sokka couldn't possibly be beaten by a newcomer, even if he was a known murderer.
All things considered, Sokka had done his job as expected of him. Combat-wise he was talented beyond reproach, in ways Rhone surely could only envy him for. Sokka's weapons outdid those of his opponent, too. But Rhone… the more Azula thought of it, the less sense she could make of the man. He had kept fighting, despite sustaining a hideous injury to his thigh. An injury like that would have hindered any normal person, yet it had hardly damaged him initially, and, if anything, it had only fueled the man's bloodlust. His fighting style wasn't that extraordinary indeed, despite he was a powerful fighter: but he was driven to the point of being self-destructive. He had attacked Sokka relentlessly, delivered damage despite having received awful wounds of his own, and he hadn't stopped fighting until she had threatened him as she had. She had genuinely expected him not to stop at all, even then.
She raised her eyes, watching as the medics stitched Sokka's wounds carefully. Her heart lurched at the sight, but she did her best to withhold her emotions – she couldn't let them pour out of her right now. It wasn't the end of the world, it was just… it was just another fight. Just two more scars. Just a few more reasons for Sokka's spirit to shatter…
She gritted her teeth at the last thoughts: it hadn't been just a fight for Sokka, and because it hadn't been just a fight for him, it hadn't been just one for her either. She knew she had to stand by him after this, whatever that meant. It was his job to fight for her, and her job to keep his head together, despite the horrors they had faced. It'd be no different this time around either, surely, regardless of the emotional component involved in today's crisis… right?
"He will be fine, as long as someone tends to him frequently," the lead medic told Azula, once they had finished the treatment, about half an hour later. "The damage to his back wasn't quite as dangerous as it might have seemed. It will take around a month for him to make a full recovery, though, and only if he's properly cared for. The recommendation would be…"
"No fights in the foreseeable future. But he'll still be able to fight eventually, right?" Azula asked. "He'll walk again?"
"Yes, of course," said the physician. "It will take some time, but he's not in any danger of losing the mobility of his limbs. He moved them at times as we tended to him, so…"
"Good," said Azula, nodding.
"He will be fine in due time, Princess," said the man, bowing down to Azula. She swallowed hard and nodded again.
"Thank you. Your hard work is most appreciated," she said.
The physicians took their leave, as Azula knew she and Sokka would have to in due time. She had no intentions of staying in Fire Fountain City much longer: she knew Sokka had been looked after properly, his wounds cleansed and bandaged, but she still felt a lot more reassured when Song, or the Palace's physicians, tended to her gladiator. She would see to it that they'd be on her Barge by tonight, on their way back to the Capital.
"Is everything alright?" Kuan asked, as he and Blazing Strike entered the room when the physicians left. Azula breathed out and nodded softly, glancing at Sokka's limp figure on the bed.
"He's resting now," she whispered. "They say he'll be alright if he's given proper care, so…"
"You'll be leaving soon," Blazing Strike finished. Azula nodded again.
"I'll let him rest for now, I think, but only until my guards come back to help me bring him to the Barge," she said. Kuan nodded.
"I'll send a servant to fetch them," he said. "In the meantime, if you'd like, there's tea downstairs… if you want any, of course. I know that it might not be the best moment for it, but sometimes it can be soothing…"
Azula breathed out again. She bit her lip, uncertain if she wanted to drink any tea whatsoever… but perhaps a hot beverage would help her feel less cold and anguished. So she nodded.
"I'll be downstairs soon. I just want to… stay here for a few minutes, if that's alright," she whispered. Kuan smiled and nodded.
"Of course, Princess. Come down when you wish to," he said.
The unpleasant sensation of being preyed upon by Kuan and his family had disappeared by now. Azula didn't know if it was actually gone, or if she had become less perceptive of it, despairing over Sokka's wellbeing as she was, but she didn't feel quite as uneasy around them right now as she had the previous day. The man was, if nothing else, kind-hearted and generous. Most unlike his son, she noted, as Kuan and Blazing Strike left the room, closing the door behind them and leaving Azula and Sokka to themselves.
She hesitated briefly, just in case anyone entered the room again. Once she heard all footsteps fading away, she breathed deeply and approached the bed. Sokka was resting face-down, his upper body exposed and bandaged, just like his right arm.
Azula pulled up a nearby chair, taking her seat beside him. Sokka's eyes were closed, his hair had fallen out of its usual ponytail, despite the hair tie was still dangling on a few of his hair strands. She moved a hand towards it slowly, caressing the back of his neck before removing it, freeing his hair completely. He sighed, his tense face seemingly relaxing under her touch.
"How bad is it?" he asked. Azula bit her lip.
"Could be worse," she said. "They say you should be able to recover fully in due time. So… we're back to the irksome recoveries you hate so much."
"Two new scars, huh?" he whispered. "Here I was hoping I'd avoid getting more of those, but I guess not…"
"Just think of how manly they make you look and stop worrying," she said, with a small smile. Sokka crooked an eyebrow.
"Heh, really?" he said. "Here I thought there'd be nothing handsome about a guy who looks like he's been patched together too many times to keep track…"
"Well, you thought wrong," said Azula, stretching a hand to stroke his cheek gently, careful not to touch his bruise. "It's going to take more than a thousand scars to make you any less handsome, from the looks of it."
To her relief, he actually smiled at that. His eyes softened as he looked at her, and he seemed to relish in the touch of her hand.
"He… h-he didn't get you at all, did he?" he asked. Azula raised an eyebrow.
"If you're wondering if he so much as tried to touch me, no, he didn't," she said. "If he had, I… I would have likely done something you'd never forgive me for, but frankly, I was far too enraged to control myself at the time. I… I really…"
"Can't blame you," said Sokka, sighing. "I wasted chances. So many of them. I just… I couldn't do it. I couldn't do what I did to the Stingray, even though I did have the opportunity for it…"
"He was your friend once. We all have weaknesses," Azula said. Sokka snorted.
"He doesn't, apparently. The freak," he said, huffing and shaking his head. "I can't believe he's really that mental. It's… it's beyond me."
"I'm sorry," Azula said, sighing and lowering her head. "It was probably better for you to never discover this side of him, but I… I told you we ought to do this, and this was the result. I…"
"It's not your fault, Azula. I agreed with you, remember?" he said. "I wanted to know the truth. I did, I just… was blinded by my foolish hopefulness. The story was so unbelievable that I was sure it couldn't be real. I still… I still don't understand how it is, but somehow, I just don't want to know either way. I… I want to stay away from him for as long as I can. I don't want anything else to do with this…"
"You won't," said Azula, stroking his hair now. "We'll be back in the Barge, and off to the Capital, by evening. And we'll never accept any other of his wretched challenges either way."
"Good," said Sokka, sighing. "I… I really panicked when you jumped in, you know? You weren't supposed to do that…"
"The fight was officially over," said Azula, simply. "And I'd be damned if I'd let that bastard touch you again. I broke no rules by intervening when I did, so if that's what you're worried about…"
"I was worried he'd… he'd do something to you," Sokka said. Azula raised an eyebrow. "Not saying you're not stronger than him, you are, it's just… you saw how he was barely affected after getting his damn thigh torn open. He's a madman."
"You thought that if I electrocuted him he'd still walk later?" Azula asked. Sokka shrugged. "Well, I was prepared to find out if he hadn't desisted. Fortunately, he decided to listen to his sponsor, despite I was starting to dread he wouldn't."
"Did the sponsor seem to be… anyone of note?" Sokka asked. "I mean, I know now that he didn't really get manipulated into this or anything, but… I'd rather make sure we can disprove all our theories, you know."
"He seemed positively ordinary," said Azula. "Like many sponsors of madmen, he seemed scared of his own fighter. He wasn't polite at all, and if anything, I thought it looked like… like Rhone is the one who's commanding him, so to say. The sponsor felt like more of a slave than the gladiator."
"Not that weird," said Sokka. "He could just be some poor soul Rhone forced into becoming his sponsor. All so he could… kill me, I guess? I wonder if… if he'll keep trying."
"Well, he's not going to succeed, that's for certain," said Azula. "We'll be out of here before he knows it, and you'll be fully healthy long before he can secure passage to the Capital. He won't have a chance to hurt you, in the ring or outside it. And the spirits may witness me, if he so much as dares try while you're outside the ring…"
Sokka smiled, despite he knew all too well what Azula was trying very hard not to say. She glared sideways at the door, as if Rhone was standing there and she could murder him with her eyes and nothing more. With some difficulty, he moved his hand towards her, and took Azula by surprise when his fingers wrapped around hers, regardless of the bandages limiting his movements.
"I never thought I'd feel at ease upon hearing you swear you'll kill my first friend, but somehow life can take some pretty crazy turns, huh?" he said. "It's absurd, but… he was my friend, someone who I never expected to have as my enemy, and yet here he was, trying to murder me, while the woman who embodies everything I once claimed to hate defends me ferociously. It's… it's ironic, weird, but… but I have to say I'm not really sorry for it. If anything, I'm proud I'm no longer like him. I'm…"
"You're a better man than he could ever hope to be," Azula whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of his face.
"If you say so, but… but he really hates you," Sokka said, frowning. Azula snorted.
"What a shocker that is, isn't it?"
"It's not a surprise, it's just… whenever he said a single word against you, I just wanted to run him through with Space Sword, chop his head off, anything to stop him from so much as laying eyes on you," said Sokka. "The way he spoke, I… I knew he meant to hurt you if he got the chance to do it. What I mean is, he's not just after me. He's…"
"He's a big ball of burning hatred and revenge, seems like," said Azula. "He probably wanted to be left to die in that cave indeed, I suppose, so now he takes revenge on you for that. And since I corrupted you as I did, despite he apparently hates you for other reasons, he wants my head too. But… but we both know that's never going to happen, don't we?"
"That he'll get your head? Like hell he will," said Sokka, with a smile. "We'll make sure of it."
"I meant that he's never going to get to either one of us, not just me," said Azula, smiling too and rubbing his fingers with her thumb. "We are the greatest combination of gladiator and sponsor, aren't we?"
"And we will fight for each other to the very end," said Sokka, closing his eyes. "He'll end up with worse than a hole running through his leg if he ever tries to do anything to you."
"Or worse than a lightning blast to the head if he tries to do anything to you," she said. "He'd better stay away from us if he knows what's good for him."
"Yeah. He should be smart enough to know that," said Sokka, sighing as Azula leaned close, kissing the corner of his mouth gently.
"Rest now. We'll take you to the Barge as soon as my guards get here," she said. Sokka hummed.
"Will you lie down with me until then?" he asked, with a goofy grin. She smiled.
"I wish I could. I'll sneak into your cabin on our way home, though. I promise," she said, kissing the top of his head now. Sokka chuckled.
"I understand if you can't. Not like I'll make good company tonight, will I?" he said. Azula raised an eyebrow.
"You think a few wounds would deter me at all?" she asked, teasingly. "I'll do whatever I want to you, gladiator, whether you're in shape for it or not."
"Ouch. That sounds dangerous," said Sokka, and Azula smiled.
"Just sleep, silly," she said. "We'll figure this out later. And… you'll still be good company, even if all I can do is tickle your left armpit."
"Damn, please don't do that…" he said, with amusement. "I can't return the favor, so…"
"Well, now, that's precisely why I'd want to do it," said Azula, smirking. She brushed his hair with her fingers before pressing another kiss to his face, now to his eyebrow. "Sleep. I love you. I'll see you again in a minute, alright?"
"Alright…" said Sokka, breathing out slowly but smiling anyways. "I love you too. Thanks… thanks for interfering earlier. You keep saving my life, hehe…"
"I'll do it as often as I need to. Whether the rules allow me to do so or not," she said, as he lifted his head towards her with difficulty.
He kissed her weakly, but they both had needed to do it quite direly. It was uplifting to share a moment of tenderness, despite how fragile Sokka was right now. Azula smiled sweetly at him, stroking his hand one last time before standing up.
She extended her gratitude to Kuan's family once she went downstairs to drink tea with them: to her relief, they were worried enough about her gladiator's condition to set aside their own agenda. They let her know she was free to stay for as long as she pleased, but Azula didn't feel safe, despite their best efforts. Even if they meant her no harm, and she guessed they didn't, she refused to risk keeping Sokka within the same city as that lunatic for longer than strictly necessary.
It was already afternoon by the time the guards arrived in a large enough carriage to fit Sokka on his stretcher. Azula was sure she heard Sokka apologize for the trouble as they carried him off, but the carriage door was shut before she could hear properly. Rui Shi had lagged behind with her, and he placed a hand on her shoulder as she watched the rest of her guards taking Sokka away.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her. Azula sighed.
"I'm trying to keep my head level, but it's not easy. It never has been, there's no denying it, whenever he got hurt I'd always…" she said, biting her lip before shaking her head. "He'll be fine. I just… have to get him to Song. He's going to be fine."
"He will be. He's had worse than this, hasn't he?" Rui Shi said. Azula shrugged.
"All things considered, he certainly has. But… I just wish he didn't have to take any worse altogether. Still, I have no right to complain, do I? I'm the one who threw him into this, so I reap what I sow. I have to accept it, take responsibility, see to it that he heals… and send him off again into the next fight, whenever that may be."
"And you're okay with that?" Rui Shi asked. "Things aren't the way they used to be, Princess. And…"
"And they're supposed to be," Azula stated. "I can't stop now, even if every wound he takes makes me wish it were me in the fighting pit instead of him. As I am, all I can do is keep helping him become stronger, in hopes that he'll take less wounds with every new fight. That's all I can do."
Rui Shi sighed, dropping his hand as he watched his charge with concern. He knew Sokka's wellbeing always affected Azula's, for she never took well to the damage he might receive in the Arena. But now that they were fully together it seemed the anguish would be worse yet for Azula, and despite his concerns, he had no idea how to help her with this burden. He had no choice but to stand by her side and watch over her as she watched over her gladiator, in turn.
The journey back to the Capital carried an unusual sense of defeat to it, for never before had the Princess returned from a trip with such discouraging results. Nevertheless, she would bear with it. She kept her head held high, and she seemed to relax slightly once they were far enough from Fire Fountain City. About half her anxiety was appeased just by leaving Rhone behind in that island.
The guards helped her carry Sokka to his house the next day. They arrived by morning, and they surprised Song when she heard knocking on the door. Her nervousness upon seeing Rui Shi changed quickly into chagrin once she noticed they were carrying Sokka face-down on a stretcher.
"What on earth…?" she asked, as Azula entered the house behind them. She gave Song an apologetic look.
"Things didn't go so well," she whispered. "You'll have to look at him to make sure he's healing well… I was told his injuries weren't too serious, but I'd rather you confirm it as soon as possible."
"He lost, then?" Song asked, grimacing. "How is he feeling?"
"Not as bad as I feared. He made a few jokes on his way here," said Azula, as she and Song climbed the stairs after her guards. "But the injury is on his lower back, and it hinders his mobility a lot. So far, I've made sure he makes no attempts to stand up, despite he's complaining about being bored of lying on his stomach, but…"
"Typical Sokka," said Song, smiling as they entered his room. The guards were struggling to unload him on his bed, and Sokka groaned and cringed whenever there was any pressure on his wounds.
It didn't take them long to set him down on the bed, but for Sokka it felt like ages. He couldn't stand being so helpless, especially like this. His legs felt like they were permanently chi-blocked, and he found there were few sensations as unpleasant as that…
"Thank you," said Azula, nodding at the guards, and they bowed at her. Song breathed deeply.
"I'll get my gear. I should look at him immediately," she said, dashing away to her room quickly.
"Should we wait for you downstairs, Princess?" Taro asked her. Azula shook her head.
"Feel free to head home. My dragon can carry me back later," she said. The men bowed at her one more time before filing out into the hallway.
Rui Shi stopped at Song's bedroom door, despite himself. A powerful urge compelled him to talk to her and settle whatever complications had arisen between them in the past weeks, complications he wasn't sure he understood to begin with, but he refrained from doing so. The gladiator needed tending to, after all… and he wasn't quite ready to be fully rejected by the first girl he'd grown romantically interested in.
For her distance could only imply that, couldn't it? Despite they'd had a great evening together, she had withdrawn and avoided him constantly ever since. It could mean she had remembered her aversion towards Fire Nation soldiers, or that she didn't want a relationship right now, or that she simply wasn't interested in him…
Or maybe there was a reason beyond his understanding, a reason to explain why she didn't feel they should start a relationship. He frowned as he pondered the events of that night again, as he walked down the stairs. Azula and Sokka had fought terribly that day, from what he'd heard, but they were back to normal only on the next one, as attached as ever, as though nothing had happened at all. The more thought he gave the matter, the more uncomfortable he felt…
Song expected the guards to stay in Sokka's room, or at least, for Rui Shi to do so. Her heart sank when she found otherwise, for she had wrongfully assumed they would finally talk today. It seemed it wasn't going to happen, though: only the Princess remained in the room, helping Sokka shed his shirt so Song could look at the wounds concealed by his bandages.
"Oh…" said Song, swallowing hard as Azula undid the fabrics and pulled them off Sokka's body. Sokka huffed, holding his body up with his good arm before collapsing again on the mattress.
"It's a bad injury, but… not that bad, right?" Azula asked, looking at Song almost pleadingly. Until the healer agreed with those words, Azula's anxiety wouldn't be appeased.
Song approached, studying the stitched wound more closely.
"It's a great stitching job, that's for sure," she said, breathing out in relief. "He'll hardly have a scar from it, just a thin line."
"Heh. Good to hear," said Sokka, sighing.
"You can't move your legs, though?" Song asked, worried. Sokka shrugged.
"I've tried not to, Azula said I shouldn't risk doing it while the wound was still healing. I don't know if I might be able to stand up by now… should I try?"
"Maybe later," said Song, frowning. "The best thing you can do with a wound like that is rest a lot, at least for the first days. It's already been treated well, from what I can see, so…"
"So, he just has to lie down?" Azula asked, as Song busied herself with replacing the old bandages with new ones.
"He can try flexing his legs to make sure nothing's wrong with his mobility. That's the best I can suggest at the moment," said Song, as she worked, looking at the Princess hopelessly. "He will need to rest a lot, as I said…"
"So, no training? Bummer, huh?" Sokka said, smirking a little at Azula. She raised her eyebrows.
"That's right. No boomerang training for you," she said. Sokka yelped.
"N-no, I can still use my boomerang while lying face-down, I'm sure…"
Azula actually smiled earnestly after that. Sokka's pout prompted her to sit by his bed, caressing his head gently.
"You have an excuse to be lazy at last, you know? You'd better use it while you can," she said. Sokka smiled a bit now.
"It's ironic that I want to be lazy when I'm busy, but when I'm not, all I want is to get back to work again…"
"That's you, alright. Contradictory like nobody else," said Azula. Sokka raised an eyebrow.
"More than you?" he asked, playfully. Azula frowned.
"My… that's a good question. I do wonder which of us is worse," she said, smirking as he laughed softly.
Song smiled as she put away the spare bandages, after taking care of Sokka's arm too. She stood up as they basked in their banter, closing the door behind her as she left them to themselves. It seemed they would enjoy their time together regardless of whether Sokka was confined to lying face-down on his bed or not: Song knew the most complicated part of any of Sokka's recoveries was keeping him in high spirits, but she had no doubts the Princess would achieve that with ease if she stayed by his side. He was always his happiest whenever he was near her, after all.
Azula glanced over her shoulder, noticing Song had left the room quietly. She turned towards Sokka again after confirming they were alone, stroking a strand of his hair that had slipped out of his wolf's tail.
"So… are you mentally prepared for another recovery period?" she asked. "Or do you need further cheering up somehow?"
"I need to be cheered up, that's for sure," said Sokka, smiling. "I mean… it's not that big a bed, I know that, but you can fit right here beside me, can't you?"
"Don't I always?" Azula asked, grinning as well before shedding her boots and armor. Sokka smiled as he watched her.
"Thanks, really. You… you take such good care of me," he said, chuckling as he buried his face in his pillow. Azula smiled and stretched across the bed, right beside him.
"You need someone to keep tabs on you, after all," she said, slipping her arms around his neck and bringing him closer, so his head would rest on her chest. "And for now, you have to sleep."
"Hmm… I'll try," he said. "It's hard to sleep when a beautiful woman holds you and you wish you could do a very different variation on 'sleeping', if you know what I mean…"
"I know all too well," said Azula, caressing his face. "But I know I'd rather have that variation by the time you can actually do something, you know?"
"That's quite a valid point…" Sokka said, chuckling and lifting his head. "Thanks again, though. You're… you're too good for me."
"You're being ridiculous," she said, kissing his forehead before moving down to his lips. "So sleep, silly. I'll be right here beside you."
"You always are," Sokka said, closing his eyes and dropping his head against her chest.
He had no idea how he would have gotten through that fateful fight without her… well, to begin with, he was certain he wouldn't have survived it, seeing how Rhone would have sliced his head off if he'd had a chance to do so. But she had saved him, and she surely would keep saving him every single time he needed it. He felt real, safe, happy with her: when he was with Azula, he was home.
"I love you," he whispered, pressing his lips against her collarbone in a subtle kiss. Azula caressed his hair.
"And I you," she said, closing her eyes as well.
His recovery was sure to take time, but it relieved Azula to see that he wasn't as disheartened and miserable as she had feared he'd be. His mind hadn't broken quite as badly as it had in previous occasions, and she hoped it meant he had strengthened it too, just as he had strengthened his body. And maybe it also meant that, regardless of their frequent clashes, he was appeased by knowing that, even if he'd lost his old friend, he'd never lose Azula.