Chapter 9: The Ribbon Around His Heart
The family dinner was a loud, warm affair. The longhouse roared with laughter, the clatter of bowls, and the vivid stories piled higher than the steamed sea-prunes. Hakoda held court, but his eyes kept drifting to Zuko, not with scrutiny, but with a quiet, appraising kindness that made Zuko’s shoulders gradually unhitch. Katara teased Sokka mercilessly about his failed first attempt at spear-fishing, and Sokka fired back with stories of Katara’s early waterbending mishakes that left them all breathless with laughter.
Zuko sat cross-legged on the furs, nursing a cup of something sweet and faintly fermented.He contributed less, smiled more. He watched Sokka’s hands as he talked, the animated arcs they cut through the air. He felt the solid weight of the small, finished carving in his pocket, a secret warmth against his thigh.
Later, when the lamps were guttering and Hakoda was yawning into his fist, Sokka nudged Zuko’s knee under the low table.“Ready to bail?” he whispered, his breath a cloud of spice and honey.
They slipped out into a night so cold it stole the air from their lungs. The village was silent, just the distant lap of water against ice and the faint, ethereal glow of bioluminescent kelp along the shore, painting the snow in shifting hues of blue and green. Their boots crunched in perfect, brittle synchrony as they walked the short path to the guest igloo.
Inside, the fire was down to coals, a pulsating heart of orange in the center of the floor. The air still carried the day’s scents: smoked fish, damp wool, the unique smell of Zuko’s soap.Sokka busied himself with the oil lamp, his movements oddly careful. The nervous tap of his fingers against his thigh from dinner was gone, replaced by a coiled stillness.
Zuko shrugged off his heavy outer parka and sat by the fire, poking the emals with a bone tool.The silence wasn’t awkward. It was thick, full of everything unsaid since the ice fishing hut, since the kiss against the wall.
“Your father,” Zuko started, staring into the glow. “He’s… different than I imagined.”
“Less scary?” Sokka asked, coming to sit beside him, close enough that their arms touched.
“More solid,” Zuko corrected.“Like a mountain. It’s… reassuring.”
Sokka leaned into him, a gentle press.“He likes you.I mean, he really likes you. He asked me this afternoon if you preferred grilled or stewed leviathan.”
Zuko blinked. “That’s… a significant question?”
“In our culture?Yeah. It’s a ‘planning the future meals’ question. A ‘this person might be sticking around’ question.” Sokka’s voice was soft, a little wondering.The coals popped. Zuko felt the carving in his pocket, its edges pressing into his skin. He’d worked on it every spare moment since they’d arrived, during the long polar nights, his fingers carving by feel when the lamp burned low. It was no longer just a piece of practice.It was finished.He pulled it out. The driftwood was smooth as seal skin in his palm, pale and soft. He’d carved a single, elegant flame, its tongues curling around a stylized wave in an inseparable embrace. He’d polished it with seal oil until it glowed.
“Sokka,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.Sokka looked over. His eyes dropped to Zuko’s hand, and his playful expression melted into something open, vulnerable.Zuko didn’t explain. Words failed him, as they often did with things that mattered most. He simply lifted the soft leather cord he’d threaded through a tiny hole at the top and leaned forward. Sokka bowed his head without hesitation, a breath catching in his throat as Zuko’s fingers brushed the nape of his neck, tying the cord securely.The carving settled against Sokka’s sternum, a warm weight.
Sokka looked down, his fingers rising to trace the intertwined shapes. His thumb rubbed over the curve of the wave, the point of the flame.“Zuko…” he began, but his voice cracked.
Zuko silenced him the only way he knew how. He cupped Sokka’s jaw and kissed him.It wasn’t hungry like before. It was deep, tender, a slow exploration that tasted of salt and sweet wine and home. When they broke apart, Zuko kept their foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingling in the cold air.
“I want you to have something of me,” Zuko whispered, the words leaving a hot trail on Sokka’s lips. “Always.”
Sokka’s eyes were bright, liquid in the dim light.He didn’t joke. He didn’t deflect. He just surged forward, capturing Zuko’s mouth again with a desperation that felt like gratitude. His hands fisted in Zuko’s tunic, pulling him closer until Zuko had to brace himself over Sokka, one hand planted on the furs beside his head.They kissed until the fire burned to ash and the cold began to seep in from the walls. Until Sokka’s lips were swollen and Zuko’s scar ached from the intensity of his expression.Until they were breathless and flushed and tangled together on the floor.
Sokka finally pulled back just enough to speak, his nose brushing Zuko’s. “Always is a big word, Fire Lord.”
“I know what it means,” Zuko murmured, his thumb stroking Sokka’s cheekbone.
“My dad’s gonna want to start planning that feast,” Sokka said, a slow, real smile spreading across his face. “Like, tomorrow.”
A flutter of ancient panic, the fear of ceremony and expectation, rose in Zuko’s chest. Then he looked at the carving resting against Sokka’s skin, at the absolute trust in his blue eyes. He let the fear evaporate.“Okay.”
“Okay?” Sokka’s smile widened. “Just ‘okay’?”
“Okay,” Zuko repeated, leaning down to kiss him once, softly, on the mouth. “But tell him I prefer grilled.”
The laugh that broke from Sokka was startled and joyous, ringing against the ice walls. He opened his mouth, likely to make a joke about Zuko’s newly declared culinary loyalty, but the sound was cut off by a firm knock on the heavy hide door flap.They froze.Sokka’s eyes widened comically. Zuko’s body went rigid above him, every muscle taut as a bowstring. The knock came again, polite but insistent, followed by Hakoda’s familiar rumble.“Boys? You still awake in there? Wanted to talk about the glacier trek tomorrow.”
A bolt of pure, undiluted panic shot through Zuko. He was instantly hyper-aware of their position: Sokka sprawled beneath him on the furs, both of them disheveled and flushed, lips kiss-swollen.He scrambled back, his movements uncharacteristically graceless. Sokka sat up fast, running a hand through his wrecked hair, trying and failing to smooth it down. “Uh, yeah! Just a sec, Dad!”
They stared at each other in the low light, a silent, frantic conversation passing between them. Sokka’s expression was a mixture of ‘oh shit’ and giddy defiance. He reached out, his fingers finding the carving around his neck, and held onto it like an anchor. Zuko took a deep, centering breath, the kind he used before addressing the Fire Nation council.He gave a single, sharp nod.
“Come in,” Sokka called, his voice only slightly higher than normal.
The door flap pushed aside, and Hakoda ducked in, brushing snow from his shoulders.The cool night air rushed in with him. He straightened, his gaze taking in the scene: the dying fire, the two of them sitting too close on the rumpled furs, the charged silence. His eyes, sharp and knowing, lingered on Sokka’s frantic attempt to look casual, then on Zuko’s carefully neutral face. Zuko could feel the heat in his own cheeks.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Hakoda said, and he genuinely sounded like he meant it.His eyes softened.“Just wanted to finalize the plan. We’ll leave at first light for the blue ice caves. Katara says the formations are spectacular this time of year.You’ll need the heavy furs, Zuko. It’s a deep cold in there.”
“Thank you, Ha– Hakoda,” Zuko said, forcing his voice to steadiness.“I’ll be prepared.”
A quiet fell over the igloo. It was the moment.Sokka’s knee began to jiggle. He swallowed audibly, then blurted it out, the words tumbling into the space like stones dropped through ice.“So, uh.Dad.We’re engaged.”
Hakoda went completely still. His eyes flicked from Sokka’s determined, terrified face to Zuko’s scarred, solemn one.He didn’t look surprised, exactly. He looked like a man who’d just had a long-held suspicion confirmed in the most wonderful way. His gaze dropped to the carving resting against Sokka’s chest, the flame-and-wave unmistakable in the firelight.
“I see,” Hakoda said slowly, his voice a deep, warm murmur. He took a step forward, then another, until he was standing right before them.He looked at Zuko, really looked at him. “Is this true, Fire Lord Zuko?”
Zuko stood up. He met Hakoda’s eyes without flinching, his posture becoming that of a ruler, but his expression was painfully open.“It’s true.With your blessing, sir.I… I love your son. I have for a long time.”
The air left Hakoda’s lungs in a soft, slow exhale. He looked at Sokka, who was watching him with a rare, raw vulnerability, no jokes left as a shield.Then Hakoda did something neither of them expected. He reached out and pulled Zuko into a fierce, brief hug, clapping him once, hard, on the back.
When he released him, his eyes were bright. “My blessing has never been in question.” He turned to Sokka, his voice thick with emotion.“You picked a good one. Stubborn.A little intense.” A faint smile touched his lips. “But very, very good.”
He pulled Sokka up and into a hug of his own, holding him tight for a long moment. Over Sokka’s shoulder, he spoke to Zuko. “Grilled leviathan it is, then. For the feast.” He pulled back, holding Sokka at arm’s length, his hands firm on his shoulders. “Does your sister know?”
“Not yet,” Sokka said, a grin finally breaking through. “You’re the first.”
“Good.” Hakoda’s own grin was wide and full of pride.“She’ll be insufferable. She’ll say she knew it all along.” He shook his head, a low chuckle escaping him. “First light, then.For the caves. I suspect you two might need a moment.” He moved toward the door, then paused, looking back at them both.“I am happy for you. For both of you.Get some rest.”
The door flap fell shut behind him, leaving a silence louder than before. Sokka stared at the spot where his father had been, then slowly turned to Zuko. He let out a shaky breath that was half-laugh, half-sob.“Well. That happened.”
Zuko crossed the space between them in two strides.He didn’t kiss him. He just wrapped his arms around Sokka and held on, his face buried in Sokka’s neck. The relief was a physical wave, warm and dizzying. Sokka’s arms came up around him, solid and sure.
“He was happy,” Zuko mumbled into his skin, the words muffled.“He was,” Sokka agreed, his voice cracking just a little. He pulled back, cradling Zuko’s face in his hands.“So? What now, Fire Lord?”
Zuko looked at him, at the pendant resting between them, at the future that had just snapped into sharp, beautiful focus.