Chapter Text
Somewhere along the way, his children had changed.
He remembered Sokka when the boy reached up to his waist and how he used to hide from his sister when he teased her about her “women’s work”, poking and prodding to get a rise out of her. He remembered just how homicidal little Katara could get at her brother, chasing after him with a floating blob of water. He remembered how he would have to step between them and sternly tell Katara off for waterbending at her brother and scold Sokka for annoying his sister. The two would glare icicles at each other before storming off in opposite directions, then magically make up and play in the snow a few hours later.
Hakoda never had any siblings, he didn’t really know how they worked. So he would stare at the two in aghastness before Kya would laugh at his expression and explain that “it’s just how siblings are”. Then her expression would grow sombre at the reminder of her sister’s death in the last raid and Hakoda would draw her close and kiss her as they watched their children play.
Now, it was different. Now, Katara had Sokka flat on his back with a water whip.
“Sokka!” Katara roared, the water twisting and turning around her.
Sokka yelped. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he pleaded, clasping his hands together.
Teo, the Duke, Haru, Suki and Zuko were watching the scene unfold as if it was the most normal thing ever. Suki looked like she was about to burst into laughter any moment.
“I thought Suki had finally put some sense in you!” Katara screeched.
“She did!” Sokka insisted. “I swear I drink my respect women juice every day and sacrifice a parrot-mouse for them every full moon!”
“Then why the fuck did you just throw your pants at me and tell me to “sew it up, chop chop”!” Her eyes glimmered dangerously, looking very much like she was about to chop off her brother’s head.
“I didn’t think it was that rude! You are the better tailor!”
“That’s because you didn’t even bother to learn!”
“I don’t have to because you are there!”
Katara’s eyebrow twitched. “Why, you misogynistic, sexist—”
It was getting too far. Hakoda stepped in between the two of them, hands splayed out. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”
“It’s Sokka’s fault!” Katara pointed.
“Me? You blew up over nothing! I even apologized!”
“You only apologized because Suki is here!”
Sokka flitted his eyes over to the redhead and she smiled sharply. “But I still apologized.”
“It doesn’t count if—”
“Okay, enough!” Hakoda raised his voice. “You two kids need to learn how to get along.”
It was the old song and dance. Hakoda would lecture about the importance of loving your sibling, Katara and Sokka would seethe and glare at each other, he would put them in time-out, they would become friends again, and it would all be over.
Of course, things weren’t going to be that simple now.
“Excuse me?” Katara raised an eyebrow.
Sokka crossed his arms, his expression grim. “Yeah, no offense, Dad, but we’re not four and six anymore.”
“We’ve been looking after each other for a long time, Dad!” Katara yelled, hands flinging in the air in indignancy. “We don’t need to be told off.”
“Katara and I are adults who can take care of our arguments ourselves.”
“I know it’s hard for you to see it, since you’ve been away for so long, but we’ve changed!”
Sokka turned to his sister. “Katara, dear sister, let’s go to that sunroom with the paintings of the baby bison and you can show me the basics of sewing.”
Katara nodded. “Of course, dear brother.” She hmphed and turned away from him, grabbing Sokka’s hand and marching away.
Hakoda stood, stunned, wondering what had just happened.
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“The fuck?” Hakoda muttered as he paced one of the roofs of the air temple back and forth. “What the hell was that?”
The ground wasn’t exactly even, given the entire area was just ruins, but he still managed to run a track through the ground with his confused pacing.
“What in the hell even— I’m sorry?? What are you supposed to do when your kids are arguing with each other?” His children had changed in more ways than one, Hakoda knew that, but it still grappled him by surprise at just how much they had changed.
He groaned, clutching his hair. “The cause of all my stress, I swear. What did I do wrong?!”
“Their sudden change in attitude isn’t because they’re mad at you.”
Hakoda startled so badly he yelped and tripped over the uneven ground, falling hard on his ass.
The banished Prince of the Fire Nation was standing right at the entrance to the roof, holding a pile of kindling in his arms.
Where had he even come from? Hakoda hadn’t heard a sound and there were leaves and twigs all around this place.
“You made them feel small,” the prince continued, picking up a stick. “And they just want to show that they are more mature and capable of handling themselves since you last saw them.” He put the pile down in front of a crumbled wall.
Hakoda was still reeling in surprise, but quickly smoothed his expression. “How do you know?” he asked.
Zuko shrugged and stepped closer to him and offered a hand. “I’m a teenager too. I know what they’re feeling.”
Hakoda eyed the stretched out hand. Hesitantly, he took it and the prince yanked him up with surprising strength. He bent down to collect another stick and added it to the pile.
As he went about doing the chore, Hakoda mulled over his words, wondering what the teen meant by them.
“Do you need help?” Hakoda offered.
Zuko replied without looking at him, “No, I’m good, thanks.”
Well, then.
Hakoda stood awkwardly in the middle of the air temple roof, not knowing what to do.
A few beats passed before Zuko dropped the sticks he had collected onto the pile and sighed. “Look,” he said, facing Hakoda. “Sokka and Katara… they bicker. A lot. It caught me off guard too and I expected your daughter to maul your son’s face any second—I know my sister would—but she didn’t even hurt him badly. They roughhouse around, but it seems to just be how they are. Somedays, Sokka gets on Katara’s nerves, and other days, Katara gets on Sokka’s nerves.”
Hakoda stared, not knowing what to do in this incredibly awkward situation of the Fire Nation Prince explaining his own children to him, though he looked like he meant well.
“As soon as you accept it, the better. Just remember not to undermine them.” He smiled wryly. “Or you might just get your ass kicked.”
With that, he picked up the pile and left the rooftop, leaving Hakoda to watch his retreating back.
--------------------------------------------
Sokka trusted Zuko. It wasn’t surprising, seeing as how he trusted him enough already to take the prince to a high-security Fire Nation prison with intentions to break prisoners out. Although Sokka trusted Zuko, Katara didn’t.
She behaved coldly with him. But not cruel, not like how he knew she could get sometimes. She was just… cold. Her lips thinned whenever Zuko came close to her or offered his help.
She let him give a hand, and seemed okay enough to let him roam around, but sometimes, when he talked with the others, her eyes lingered a touch too long and her face twisted into a displeased look.
Hakoda finally understood her caution when Zuko called Aang for training one day sometime after breakfast. “Haru, Toph, I could use your help too if you don’t mind,” he turned to the earthbenders.
“Sure, Zuko.” Haru got up.
Toph, who had woken up late and was still having her breakfast, waited until she had stuffed the last of the bread and mashed berries into her already-full mouth before standing. “Neths go,” she exclaimed, spitting crumbs and berry juices.
Katara sighed and shook her head at her. Toph sensed it and gave her a big grin with the half-chewed food still in her mouth.
As the kids went off to train, something compelled Hakoda to get up and follow them.
He walked beside Teo who seemed interested in watching too, and offered him a smile. The boy grinned back. They stood in the cleared off area that had been put up earlier for any audiences in the sidelines, observing the benders have at it.
“In this training session,” Zuko began, “you’re going to hone your defensive firebending skills.”
Aang listened with rapt attention.
“Mainly the art of fire-blocking,” the prince clarified. “Fire-blocking is when you not only produce enough heat, but also the enough force and energy to kick the obstacles out of their trajectory or destroy them altogether.” He called a fire to his palm. “For smaller ones, you can simply steer it off course with your energy, but for the bigger ones, you’ll need explosive power to blow through it to keep it from hitting you. As I’ll now demonstrate.”
Aang took that as his cue to step back, and Zuko nodded to the earthbenders.
Toph, predictably, started it off by grinning and kicking a boulder half the size of Zuko his way.
Zuko waited in his ready stance, arms raised. When it came close enough, he twisted around and with a straight form, delivered a perfect kick. Fire trailed from his heel and as soon as it connected with the boulder, the stone shuddered from the force and immediately burst into smithereens.
Hakoda and Teo ducked at the incoming onslaught of shooting debris. When Hakoda looked back up, he found the prince nodding at the successful move, not even having broken a single drop of sweat.
Hakoda didn’t know whether to feel awed or scared.
Aang, Teo, Haru and Toph seemed to feel pretty awed though.
“That was amazing, sifu Hotman!” Aang exclaimed, ignoring the prince’s protest at the nickname.
“It was so— so—” Haru gestured around excitedly.
“Powerful!” Teo finished for him.
“Yeah!”
“Not bad, Sparky,” Toph crossed her arms with an approving nod.
“Let’s try it! Let’s try it!” Aang bounced up and down.
“Okay, but you’re starting small,” Zuko told him. “So Toph, no big boulders please.”
The girl blew the bangs out of her face with a pout.
“You need to be able to generate enough power which stays in your control,” Zuko emphasized. “If you do not control fire, it will escape. Like… an octopus. Through the, uh, fishing net with holes.” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.
Aang blinked at the horribly delivered metaphor but nodded in understanding.
“You’re going to now generate just enough power to move a flying object away from you. Haru.”
The boy in question raised a rock as big as his head, and threw it at Zuko.
Just like before, Zuko kept his focus on the rock, then as soon as it reached him, he punched his arm out and hit the rock with the flat of his palm, fire encasing his hands. The rock flew in the other direction, crashing against the floor and breaking into pieces.
Teo whistled appreciatively beside him… but Hakoda swallowed at the demonstration of power.
He couldn’t find himself to remain fully impressed at the raw power that could render him and his children helpless at any moment. He trusted Zuko, the prince had busted him and Sokka and two others out of a Fire Nation prison, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have moments of doubt. Moments like these.
Hakoda watched as Zuko instructed the young Avatar. The Fire Prince was only sixteen, and yet he possessed the same amount of power and skill as an experienced general. Who knew how much he would progress once he turned into a full adult. He sincerely hoped that Sokka was right and that the prince wouldn’t be tempted to go back to their enemies’ side.
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Training ended a couple hours after that. Aang was struggling to find the right balance of power, alternating too much that was exploding the air in front of him, or too little which got him smacked with a few rocks before Toph or Haru could stop it. He was a brilliant kid though, Hakoda had no doubts he would master it in just a few days.
He walked into the main courtyard and found Katara preparing lunch. He smiled and sat beside her.
“Hey, kiddo.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead.
“Hi, dad,” she beamed. “You ready for some chana curry for lunch? I’m making enough so that we can have it for dinner too.”
“Sounds great.” He peered into the pot. “You know, you could add some yellow chilli-ginger to it. I know we have some here, I took the liberty of taking account of the pantry.”
Katara frowned. “Why? I already know what we need.”
“I know, I know,” Hakoda chuckled. “You’re a good cook, but I’ve done my fair share of cooking too while on the ship. I picked up a few things along the way.”
“Thanks, dad. But I can handle this.” She turned back to the pot.
“Are you sure? Because I’ve had experience in making some good food and—”
“Well, if you can make such good food, maybe you should cook everything by yourself from now on!” Katara snapped, dropping the spoon harshly into the pot.
Hakoda took a double-take. “I didn’t mean to tick you off. It was just some advice to—”
“Just go, dad!” Katara yelled, turning away from him. She waterbended the spoon out of the pot and cleaned it with a cloth, a scowl on her face.
Hakoda looked down, hurt. He stood up and left the yard.
-------------------------------------------
Hakoda sat at the edge of the platform, looking out at the view.
He was frustrated and mad at himself for not knowing what he was doing wrong with his kids. He was so out of touch with them. They had changed so much and he wasn’t there to watch any of it happen. Never had he made such big a mistake in his life as leaving them alone at the South Pole, right after the mistake of leaving Kya behind at their house when the raiders had attacked.
He could not suck more as a father as he was now.
Drowning in self-deprecating thoughts, he almost missed the patter of feet coming his way.
He startled when he heard them, and turned around to see Zuko. He was carrying a sheath with a sword in it in one hand and a sharpening stone in the other. “Hello,” he said awkwardly. “Mind if I sit beside you?”
Hakoda slowly nodded.
The prince settled on his right. He pulled out his sword— No, swords from the sheath. Taking the sharpening stone, he tested it first by running it past the steel. A satisfying chhnk spilled out.
“Don’t get too upset about Katara,” he then said.
“What?”
Zuko didn’t look at him when he admitted, “I saw what happened. Didn’t mean to,” he hurriedly reassured. “I was just walking in and I heard her shout at you.”
Brilliant. The Prince of the Fire Nation was witness to his failures. Just what he wanted.
“And so you don’t want me to feel bad about it?” he asked.
Zuko ran the stone against the steel again. “No. She’s not upset with you. She’s upset with me.” He inspected the edge of the sword as he said, “Katara doesn’t trust me. Not after what I did in Ba Sing Se. She has every right to, of course. But the Avatar needs a firebending teacher, and I’m the only one available. Because Aang trusts me, she has no choice but to put up with me too. Doesn’t mean she’s happy about it though.”
“So you’re saying that Katara yelling at me is actually your fault?”
Zuko slowly nodded, still not looking at him.
Hakoda sighed deeply. He felt the prince beside him stiffen slightly.
He was sure that Katara’s displeasure at Zuko’s presence played a small factor in her recent actions, but that was it—small. He couldn’t blame Zuko any more than he could blame his own kids for his choice of parenting. “You’re not to blame for what’s going on between me and my daughter, Prince Zuko.”
“Sorry,” he said tightly. “I didn’t mean to get in-between.”
“So why approach me?”
Zuko shrugged. “Maybe I want you to trust me and get on Sokka and Katara’s good side.” Hakoda could respect that.
“I know Katara’s behaving coldly with you,” he said gently. “But Sokka trusts you, and you did help him break me, Suko and Chit Sang out of the Boiling Rock. I won’t— can’t take that lightly, Prince Zuko. Thank you.” He turned towards the chasm. “Katara will come around eventually if you keep proving yourself to be trustworthy. Don’t worry about that.”
He felt Zuko’s gaze finally on him and turned to greet it. “Then Katara will definitely come around for you too,” he asserted. “You’re a good father, Chief Hakoda. She can’t stay mad at you for long.”
Hakoda sighed. “Thanks, but I’m not too quick to assume that I’m a good parent just yet.” He couldn’t, in good conscience. “She and Sokka are right to be mad at me. I… I abandoned them. For years. I missed out on so much when I should have been there.”
The prince frowned. “Well, my f—” Suddenly, he stopped and his eyes widened at Hakoda.
He ducked his head and went back to sharpening his sword.
Hakoda raised an eyebrow. What was that?
“You’re a good parent,” Zuko muttered quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. “You’re raising your children well, trust me. I would know.”
“Right,” Hakoda said sardonically. To be truthful, he was a just a little pissed that the Fire Prince was just assuming things about him and his family. “Your children yelling at your is good parenting, then I suppose? I heard something about that parenting tip in the Earth Kingdom, actually. “If a teenager shouts at you, it means that you’re doing your parenting right.” What kind of advice even is that?!” He snorted.
“Well, it’s true,” Zuko said quietly. “Better that your teenagers shout and let their frustrations be heard than keep it to themselves because they’re afraid to share their feelings.”
“What kind of teenager is afraid to share their feelings?”
Zuko shrugged, intently sharpening his sword.
Hakoda looked at Zuko oddly. He was running the stone past the steel in repeated motions, sparks flying from the steel but not burning him. Firebenders don’t burn easily, he recalled. They naturally had the ability to withstand high temperatures. Of course, they had a limit as evidenced by that one trap with the blasting jelly he and Bato had initiated which burned that one commander’s—
Hakoda’s eyes snapped to the scar.
You’re raising your children well, trust me, I would know.
For the first time, Hakoda stopped to evaluate what he really knew about the prince. And one detail snagged the cogs in his head and wouldn’t let go.
Zuko was the Crown Prince. But Sokka had said that he was banished because he had turned to their side. Only one person had the power to banish the Crown Prince.
Hakoda took a closer look at the scar. It was covered by hanging locks of hair, but he could see… distinctly…
The scar was in the shape of a handprint. And it looked several years old. The prince was sixteen.
Hakoda’s breath got caught in his throat. Who had hurt the Fire Nation's prince?
----------------------------------------------------
Hakoda couldn’t stop staring at Zuko’s scar. He was pretty sure the teen had noticed a while ago, but hadn’t said anything.
No matter how hard he tried, his eyes kept straying over to the boy and the introspections about who on earth could have done it clouded his head. It could only be after his first banishment (news could spread far, even though it was in pieces). He would have been vulnerable with the recent loss of title and anyone could have done that to him, especially since Zuko looked to have been actively participating in the war like any other soldier at such a young age. Just like all the children here.
He tried and failed not to stare at him all throughout lunch. Zuko must not have been the only one who noticed because after the meal (which was delicious, he gulped down the compliment before he addressed Katara), Hakoda nearly collided physically with a somber Aang.
“Aang! Sorry, son. Didn’t see you there.”
“Chief Hakoda,” Aang said withs serious eyes. “I’d like to talk to you for a bit, if you don’t mind.”
Hakoda nodded.
The boy led him through the tall hallways into an isolated, crumbling hallway with large half-burnt murals. They stopped in the middle and the young Avatar turned to him hesitantly.
“What can I do for you?” Hakoda asked.
Aang bit his bottom lip. When he opened his mouth, words avalanched out, “Your mistrust in Zuko is unbased! Zuko is trustworthy, I know it! He even helped you break out of prison and saved us from an assassin, which he kind of sent in the first place, but still! He went with me to the dragons and didn’t abandon me or anyone else, so please could you just lay off him a bit and—”
“Whoa, Aang, calm down.” He put up placating palms. “You’re speaking a lot of words really fast.”
Aang took a deep breath. “Okay. I just… I just— You don’t need to glare at Zuko so much,” he blurted, albeit at a slower pace than before. “I know Katara feels betrayed, but even she trusts him enough to let him be. Mostly. But you’re… you’re making him feel scared.”
“Scared?” Hakoda stepped back in surprise. “Why?”
He bit his lip nervously again, darting his eyes to and fro. “Don’t tell anyone that I was the one who said this,” he whispered. “But… he told me.”
“Zuko told you that he was scared of me?”
Aang nodded. “While training a while after you arrived. He was more off than usual, and when we were alone, I asked him why. It took a lot of pestering, but he said that he didn’t have many good experiences with people like you.”
“People like me? What does that mean?”
“You know.” Aang gestured at him vaguely.
“Water Tribe?” Hakoda guessed, lost.
Aang sighed and his shoulders sagged down heavily. He looked around again, stepped closer and hissed, “Fathers.”
Hakoda’s eyes widened. Dread clogged his throat.
You’re raising your children well, trust me, I would know.
Who had hurt the Fire Nation prince?
No. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.
The Fire Lord was an evil, sick, twisted douchebag. But he was still a father. Sure, banishment… banishment was still out of the line, but… but he couldn’t go so far out to— to actually—
No, he couldn’t. Parents didn’t work that way. The Fire Lord might not care about the world, but he had to care about his family. He had to. People couldn’t— parents couldn’t—
“Aang,” Hakoda swallowed. “How did Zuko get that scar?”
“I don’t know,” Aang answered honestly. “And neither did I ask. He doesn’t seem to like talking about it. You shouldn’t ask either.” He clenched his fists by his side. “Zuko… is complicated. He chased us around the world for months, captured us, baited us and so much more. But… he also saved our lives.” He closed his eyes. “More times than the others know.”
Hakoda didn’t know what to say. He was already worried about two children, and now he was starting to worry about a third.
“I know you didn’t have good experienced with the Fire Nation,” Aang said. “But I did. I know what it was like before… before Sozin’s Comet happened.” He swallowed around the words like it were glass. “I’m… I’m the only one who remembers what the world was like when it was peaceful. And I’m the only one who can make it peaceful again because I disappeared for a hundred years. I neglected my duties and— and the world thinks that I abandoned them. So if… if it means having to also be the only optimist in the group to fix everything, then so be it.”
His words were fueled with such determination for such a small kid, Hakoda felt his heart break. Scratch what he said before, now he had four kids to worry about.
“Aang,” Hakoda put a hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. I mean it.” Anyone who could still see the good in people after going through the worst shit imaginable, were nothing but the strongest warriors who could put even the highest-ranking generals to shame.
Aang smiled. “Thanks, Chief Hakoda. I know you’re a good person too, you’re Katara and Sokka’s dad! Just… just go easy on Zuko, please?”
Hakoda smiled tightly. “I’m sorry that I made him feel that way. I really didn’t mean to. I was just… trying to understand.”
Aang nodded solemnly. “Most people don’t really try to understand the enemy. That’s how I know you’re good.”
Hakoda gave a nod. “Thank you, Aang. I take those words to heart.”
Aang grinned. “Great! I knew you’d listen. Thanks for looking out for Sokka and Katara too. I know you’re their dad, but… they’re my best friends, my family too now. I’m glad they have you.”
“Aang, if they consider you as their family, then I do too.”
Aang blinked, then beamed. “Really?”
Hakoda pulled the boy into a hug.
He was taken aback for a second, but then immediately wrapped himself around him, buzzing with happiness.
Damn the spirits and the world for stuffing their impossible problems on this happy 12-year-old boy. Damn them. Hakoda would fight them with his bare hands if he could.
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Hakoda was careful for the rest of the day not to stare at Zuko too much and unintentionally scare him.
When Zuko was passing tea around the group (which seemed to be routine after every breakfast and lunch, and Hakoda did quite enjoy the tea, it was actually… good), Hakoda smiled and offered a thank you, catching the boy off balance. Aang noticed and beamed at him from the other side before being drawn into conversation by Suki. Zuko was more relaxed than he was at lunch by the time everyone had eaten, and Hakoda counted that as a win.
“Storytime!” Sokka shouted. “Everyone has to share a story.”
When it was his turn, Hakoda went out on a limb and shared the one that used to be little Sokka’s favorite. When he started the story, he was delighted to find that his son was still fond of it.
He was giggling at every comedic turn and gasping at every jumpscare that Hakoda narrated, much to Katara’s amusement.
“Sokka, you’ve heard this one about a hundred times now since we were little.”
“Hush, Katara! I haven’t had the chance to hear it again after years. Let me have my moment!”
Katara’s expression softened at that even as she rolled her eyes. She turned to Hakoda and their eyes caught.
Something flashed past her eyes and she ducked her head, hiding her face.
Hakoda decided to touch on it later as he continued narrating the story. But as he resumed his tale, he looked around at the group who were listening attentively with wide eyes, he found Zuko watching Katara instead. He glanced at his daughter and saw her swishing the tea around her cup listlessly.
He was about to ask if she was okay, but stopped himself. It wouldn’t do to ask in front of everyone like this. Better he waited.
When he finished the story, Sokka whooped as Hakoda described how the Water Tribe warrior had once again managed to escape the Fire Nation’s clutches. Suki giggled at his overenthusiastic antics, sharing a look with Katara.
“That was a cool story!” Aang exclaimed. “It’s just like Pouhai Stronghold when Z—”
Zuko suddenly burst into a loud fit of coughs, apparently choking on his tea. He doubled over, coughing out the tea, and the campfire that he had been controlling to keep burning, stuttered in time with his coughs.
As Toph enthusiastically thumped his back, Aang turned red in the face and hunched into himself, looking embarrassed.
“Sorry,” Zuko cleared his throat. “My bad. I, uh, swallowed the tea wrong.”
“Well, it’s your turn for storytime anyway,” Sokka said. “Got anything for us, jerkbender?”
“Uh…”
“Oh please.” Toph snorted. “Zuko can’t tell a story to save his life.”
Zuko scowled. “I can!”
“You lack the communication skills, Sparky.”
“I do not!”
Sokka gave a little ahem then raised a hand as if in greeting. “Hello, Zuko here,” he said mockingly.
Zuko’s ears burned red and his scowl deepened at everyone’s laughter. “I used to go to the theatre a lot when I was a kid. I can tell a story,” he insisted.
“Prove it,” Teo snickered.
Zuko scoffed and set down his tea, crossing his arms. “Fine. This story is about… about… um…” He flitted his eyes around, looking for inspiration. His gaze landed on Hakoda and something dawned in his eyes.
He flicked his eyes to Katara briefly, then cleared his throat. “This story is about a corrupt Fire Nation commander.”
“It’s not about Zhao, is it?” Sokka asked, leaning out of his seat with his eyes narrowed.
“No. It’s a different corrupt commander.”
“Ha!” Katara rolled her eyes. “As if every single person in the Fire Nation isn’t corrupt already.”
“Piandao and Shyu weren't,” Aang said, but was ignored.
Zuko squirmed, but replied, “She’s… she’s corrupt in the way which even the Fire Nation considers it to be bad. I mean, she did stuff like betray her own allies and kill them in cold blood, so… yeah. I’d say it’s pretty corrupt.”
“You mean betrayal isn’t encouraged by the Fire Nation?” Katara glared at him, in the cold way Hakoda knew so well.
Zuko looked away. “No. Look, do you want to hear the story or not?”
“I do!” Aang raised his hand.
“Um, me too!” the Duke put up his (so tiny) palm.
“Just get on with it,” Suki complained.
“Okay.” Zuko cleared his throat again.
“Do you need a lozenge?”
Everyone glared at Toph.
“What?” she huffed. “It was just a joke.”
Shaking his head, Zuko started over. “The story starts with red skies,” he narrated. “In the Fire Nation, the time when the sun is setting and filling the sky with a red hue is either one of the luckiest of the worst times, depending on where you’re from. In my city, it’s considered lucky. But in the town of Tattlering, citizens board up their windows and lock their doors to avoid being out during it.”
“Like Jang Hui!” Sokka pointed.
As Zuko talked about the story of the corrupted commander named Sia who had changed from a meek, shy child to a power hungry warlord, Hakoda found himself drawn in. Zuko was indeed a better storyteller than what the others had teased him for, but only because he could clearly see that the prince was a theatre dork, through and through. He used different voices for different characters, awkwardly at first. He gestured exaggeratedly and subtly manipulated the fire as special effects to enhance the mood of the story.
Sia was bullied, having been born during a time of bad luck. The kids ostracized her and the adults shunned her. The only person who showed her love was her grandmother.
After the history of being bullied, she became a bully herself. She gained a title as a commander after working hard, and went around the world, blazing towns into ashes and captured innocent prisoners for the fun of it. She only ever had one person who she liked during her conquest, but found them inadequate and killed them.
After years of war, she decided to go back to her hometown, to burn it to pieces like she had other places. She walked through the streets, intent on burning it alive, until she realized that everything had changed since she had left for war. Every house and street, everything except her grandmother and the love she had for Sia.
“She took her grandmother then burned down her town too in the end,” Zuko said, whispering into the solemnly flickering campfire flames. “Because it was the base of her greatest fear, and it had looked exactly as it had in her memories and nightmares. But as she did, the fear still didn’t leave her chest. She could still hear the insults thrown her way, the kids laughing at her, her parents scorning her, the pebbles pelting her. She left, fleeing back to her ship, feeling lost. Her grandmother noticed her pain and held her like how she used to when she had been a child. And she told her…”
He looked up at Hakoda as he said, “Time can still remain frozen in some places because of the memory preserving it. That some things don’t change just because that’s how you remember them by, even when the change is standing right in front of you.” His eyes darted to Katara.
Hakoda recalled what the prince had said to him before, They just want to show that they are more mature and capable of handling themselves since you last saw them.
He looked back at Katara and Sokka.
Suddenly, he realized what Zuko was trying to do: He was trying to bring Hakoda and his children closer, trying to help keep their family together. Because he had been abandoned by his own.
A strong flush of something raced down his throat, clogging it up and threatening to form tears in his eyes. Hakoda felt his expression melt and soften while looking at the boy. The boy who had no reason to do what he just did, but was helping out anyway.
Zuko’s eyes locked with his, and the teen quickly looked away. “The end,” he said, and the campfire started blazing healthily again.
“Wow,” Suki said. “That… was something.”
“So maybe you can tell a story after all.” Toph punched his arm.
“Ow, and yes, I can,” Zuko groused, rubbing his arm.
“Well!” Chit Sang said, standing and stretching. “It’s bedtime. I, for one, need my beauty sleep.”
“I think he needs a coma to fix that face,” Teo whispered to Haru and the two burst into snickers.
Chit Sang sent them an unimpressed glare.
They packed up the campfire site and unfurled their bedrolls and blankets they had found in the storerooms of the temple. Zuko supervised Aang as he put out the campfire, leaving no sparks, then nodded in approval when Aang managed it.
Hakoda was going to gather his own sleeping equipment when he heard footsteps shuffling behind him.
He turned around to see his daughter toeing the ground with a guilty expression on her face.
“Katara,” Hakoda carefully, but warmly, greeted.
“Dad,” she said quietly. “I… I just wanted to say… I— I’m—” She let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she looked up at him. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. That— that was really rude of me, I don’t know why I got so irritated for such a small thing.”
“Katara,” Hakoda put down his bedroll and held her shoulders firmly. “I understand, mooncrumb. I understand now that you were only upset because my comments made you and Sokka feel small. It’s just— it’s just been so long. And you two were so young when I left. Just like Zuko’s story, I’m still stuck there, and it will take some time to learn better.”
Katara nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Yeah, I know,” her voice shook. “I feel so bad, but— but I was just frustrated because I’ve done so much and some so far from who I was before. And Sokka has too. I’m a waterbending master now, I’ve always wanted to be one and Sokka wanted to help with the war too, and now we’re travelling with the Avatar all around the world.”
“I am so insanely proud of that, Katara. So proud.” He exhaled. “But I’m just not proud of what went down before. With me undermining you and you reacting that way. I think we were both at fault for that, it made me feel hurt too.”
His daughter glanced down at her shoes, hands clasped behind her back.
“I’m glad you came to me though. I love you, it hurts to see how distant I’ve been. Let’s just be patient with each other and we won’t have to be so grouchy anymore, okay?”
Katara smiled. “Okay.” She rammed into him with a tight hug, and he hugged back just as fiercely.
“Hey!” He heard his son walking towards them. “Why am I not getting a hug?”
Hakoda grabbed his arm and pulled him in too, just like he had when they landed at the temple. His kids, his crazy powerful and ambitious kids.
“I love you so much,” he muttered into their space. “I missed you terribly.”
Sokka squeezed him tighter. “Us too.”
----------------------------------------------------
Hakoda entered the courtyard the next morning and found Zuko packing his bags beside a saddled Appa.
“Where are you going?”
“Grocery trip,” Zuko answered. “There’s a town nearby if we take Appa and we do it in shifts. It’s my turn.”
“I’ll come with you,” Hakoda said. “I need to stretch my legs a little.”
Zuko hesitated but nodded his assent.
They took Appa to the town and left him a short distance away to keep him hidden. They entered the market—Zuko wearing a hood to cover his face and Hakoda draping a cloak around himself to hide his prison garb, even though it was summer.
They were making good time, collecting ingredients with enough haggling with the shopkeepers and filling their baskets. They stopped to watch a woman in a headscarf performing firebending tricks. Hakoda watched the harmless play with the flames, contrasting it to the destruction he was used to the Fire Nation leaving. This was wholly a new side of firebending he had never seen.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Zuko smirked beside him.
Hakoda mutely nodded.
He was mesmerized by the headscarf woman and her fire, until his gaze landed on another sight a bit of a distance away.
A woman struck a sobbing child, scolding her for crying and being loud. The girl pressed her lips together and tried to muffle her sobs but didn’t succeed. Some people looked uncomfortable, but continued walking, others didn’t even notice.
Hakoda stared at them in disbelief. Could they not see an upset child in danger right in front of their eyes? Was the Fire Nation so cruel as to surrender their children to this? In the Southern Water Tribe, everyone was family in their community, and if any children were in danger, any adult would feel compelled to look after them as if they were their own until they were safe again. And as Chief, it drove Hakoda mad that no one seemed to care.
The mother raised her hand again, but Hakoda didn’t let it strike the child as he stormed forward, stepped between them and grabbed her wrist. “That’s enough.”
The woman scowled and snatched her wrist back. “Who are you?”
“A concerned stranger,” Hakoda replied.
“What?”
“How could you hit your own child?” he growled.
She bared her teeth. “Do you have children, mister?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I do.”
She scoffed. “I bet they’re pansies then, if they have you as their pa.”
Now he couldn’t just let that comment go unaddressed. “I don’t hurt my kids. If you weren’t prepared to raise your kid the right way, then you shouldn’t have been a parent at all.”
The woman’s eyes flashed in anger. “What do you know about the right way?” her voice shook with fury. “I’m doing what I believe is best for my child. I don’t need some self-centered, egoistic stranger telling me how to look after my own daughter!” she screamed the last few words. “Alyna, come here,” she snapped.
Hakoda shifted, prepared to defend the child if needed. But to his surprise, the girl ran to her mother, wrapping her arms around her torso, glancing at him in fear.
Hakoda watched the pair go, noting the way the mother held her daughter protectively and the child clutch at her skirts back.
“It was a valiant effort,” Zuko suddenly said behind him. “But let’s get out of here before we draw any more attention.”
Wordlessly, he followed Zuko to another street, quiet as he mulled in his thoughts. Hadn’t the mother just hit her? Wasn’t she scared of her? He didn’t know any kids who wouldn’t be scared of an adult who had hurt them. Things were different in the Water Tribe.
Things were different in the Earth Kingdom too, he supposed. Different cultures had different ways of treating their families. Just look at the Air Nomads, they didn’t have the concept of blood parents or siblings at all.
Still, hitting a child couldn’t be right.
He faded out of his thoughts, tuning back into the conversation between Zuko and the shopkeeper.
“The sign says you’re giving away this bread for half the price!” Zuko angrily pointed at the loaf.
“That’s the old menu,” the shopkeeper drawled. “You gotta pay full now.”
“If it was so old, why didn’t you just take it off!”
“The bread’s for four coppers, sorry.”
“This is false advertising, your stall shows that it’s for two—”
“Well, it’s not!” the man snapped. “I don’t get to listen to some weird strangers wearing black roaming around in this town.”
“Neither do you get to cheat,” Zuko shouted.
The man stood up. “You calling me a cheater?”
Zuko glared. “Maybe I am.”
Before Hakoda could open his mouth to provide his insight, the man moved as quick as a bolt of lightning and fisted Zuko’s robes in his hands, pulling him close to his face. “You insult my honor one more time, you mother—”
Zuko grabbed his wrists and they immediately started steaming. “Hands. Off.”
The shopkeeper cried out and let go of him, shaking his red hands. They weren’t burned too seriously, Hakoda noted, just enough to cause pain.
The man stepped back in fear, clutching his wrists. “I didn’t—” Then his eyes strayed to the scar, and the look of fear transformed into a smirk.
“Well,” he sneered. “Some firebender. What? Can’t control your fire enough to keep yourself from burning?”
Zuko’s jaw tightened and he punched out a flame. The shopkeeper yelped, falling backwards on the ground.
The fire hit the wooden board advertising the half-price off bread sale, burning it into coal.
“Seems I can control it enough to fix your mistake,” Zuko spat. He pulled his hood further up and stormed away, in the direction out of town.
Hakoda glowered at the man.
“You his father or something?” the man snapped. “Some dad. Keep your leech under control.”
“Keep yourself from losing customers first,” he riposted, then turned to follow Zuko.
-------------------------------------------
Zuko ignored Hakoda when he caught up to him. They reached Appa and he furiously started putting away the supplies and preparing the saddle, pausing only once to give him a pat.
Hakoda didn’t know how to approach him, so he didn’t. Letting him have his space. He knew a valid teenage tantrum when he saw one. He gave his mother a headache quite often on his own.
While they were flying on Appa, some distance away from the town, Zuko broke the silence.
“I’m not weak,” he snapped. “And I can control my fire.”
“I know,” Hakoda said gently. “I’ve seen how impressively you train Aang.” He refrained from asking where his scar did come from, but his eyes must have lingered, because Zuko noticed anyway.
“It wasn’t an accident!” he yelled, turning around to face him completely, still holding Appa’s reins. “My scar wasn’t from any accident!”
“That makes it worse,” he whispered, not meaning it to be loud.
Zuko stilled, and his eyes widened at him. He quickly looked away, turning back around and facing forward, back ramrod straight.
Hakoda sighed at himself. That was definitely the wrong thing to say.
They rode in silence for a bit more. He thought that was that, and the prince wouldn’t deign to say any more, but was proven wrong.
“You did a good thing,” he said quietly, waking Hakoda from his light doze.
“Huh?” Hakoda blinked around blearily.
“Interrupting that woman,” Zuko clarified, though he wasn’t facing him when he talked. “It was a good thing, but unnecessary.”
“In what way was that unnecessary?” Hakoda questioned.
“She wasn’t hurting the child much at all. A slap’s not gonna do any harm or leave a mark,” he answered. “Sure, maybe it wasn’t great that she did it in public, but you didn’t have to overreact that way.”
Overreact… Zuko thought Hakoda not wanting a child to be struck by their own parent was an overreaction. Hakoda didn’t answer, instead gazing down at the view.
It seemed that they got more than vegetables and bread to think about after the market trip.
--------------------------------------------
“You’re here!” Katara and Sokka ran to them, breaking away from where the other kids were playing a game involving rocks and crossed lines.
Hakoda accepted a hug from the two of them.
“What did you bring?” Sokka broke away first, snatching a pack from Zuko and already rummaging around.
“We brought meat, don’t worry,” Zuko smiled.
“Good work!”
“No bread though,” Katara noticed.
Zuko’s shoulders slumped. “I—”
“About that,” Hakoda interrupted. “Are you sure there aren’t any other towns nearby here? The shopkeepers there are cheats.”
“You didn’t go to that one bread seller, did you?” Sokka asked, unloading another pack. “I told them before when I went for a grocery run, that guy is sketchy as hell. There’s another guy on the other side of the market who sells bread for a poorer quality, but at least he’s honest.”
Hakoda clicked his tongue. “Someone needs to put him in place.”
“Definitely.”
“Well, thank you for helping bring supplies, dad,” Katara said warmly. She turned to Zuko. “And you too, I guess.”
Zuko nodded in acknowledgement.
They sifted through the supplies, Sokka stroking the pack of meat lovingly.
“What do you want for lunch this time, dad?” Katara asked. “You got some stuff which can pass as Water Tribe food, so it would be nice to have a slice of home again.”
“Katara, anything you make, I’ll eat.”
“Even snow?” Sokka asked slyly.
Hakoda looked him in the eye and deadpanned, “Especially snow.”
Katara rolled her eyes as Sokka laughed. “Bato was right, no one except Sokka can get your humor.”
That made Hakoda laugh too, and Sokka wheezed as he leaned on his shoulder for support.
How could I have abandoned this? A thought flashed past his head. How could I have left this at home?
When the laughter subsided, he caught Zuko watching them from the hallway, hood off, a smile on his face.
“I’ll come back in a bit. Let me know if you need any help though,” he told his kids.
He left them to it and started in Zuko’s direction. Zuko noticed and stepped into a deeper part of the hallway to wait for him.
“That was a good story you said last night,” Hakoda complimented as he rounded the corner.
“Thanks,” Zuko smiled, a little abashed. “I’m glad you and Katara and Sokka made up.”
Hakoda shrugged. “Just a few misunderstandings that needed to be cleared up.”
“Yeah…” Zuko leaned back against the wall. “You don’t need to worry too much about being a bad parent, Chief Hakoda,” he said gently. “Trust me. Your kids love you and they don’t fear you. As long as you maintain that…” He smiled at him, “I think you’re doing it right.”
Hakoda nodded. He knew that now. There was no use drowning in self-pity, because that wasn’t what his kids needed from him. They needed the best he could do rather than the best he couldn’t do. He appreciated the boy’s initiative to get him to see that.
But as Zuko turned to walk away, Hakoda couldn’t help but feel that something was off about the prince himself. Before he could stop himself, he asked, “Do you fear your parents?”
Zuko froze.
“Sorry,” Hakoda said quickly. “It’s just, you talk as if you do.” Damn it, Hakoda, you’re making this worse.
“I…” Zuko didn’t turn back around. “I d— He’s not… the father I want anymore. He banished me. Twice now.”
“Why would he…”
“He’s the Fire Lord,” he said quietly. “He was teaching me a lesson.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good way to teach a lesson.”
“It isn’t.” His voice sounded rough when he admitted it. “That’s why I left. Or that’s why he banished me. Either way…”
His back was facing him, but Hakoda could see as his hand reached up to touch his scar.
“Either way, I’m done learning lessons from him.”
Hakoda’s breath left his body in realization.
The scar was in the shape of a handprint. It was several years old. The prince was sixteen. He was banished as a kid.
The prince’s father was the Fire Lord.
The Fire Lord banished his own son.
Where could Zuko have gotten that scar?
I’m done learning lessons from him.
Hakoda watched the boy’s retreating back. He hadn’t missed the way his voice shook ever so slightly when he was talking just now.
There were not many people who could get away with scarring a prince, even a banished one. No one would dare. No one could dare. No one…
Except one person.
Zuko was right. He might not be the best parent ever, and he might do the wrong things for his kids sometimes, but as long as he had his best interests and safety at heart… he didn’t need to worry.
But now, he realized, he had someone else to worry about instead. The boy who was cast away and disowned by his own father. The boy who thought it was okay for kids to be struck by their own parents. The boy with the scar.
“Zuko!” Hakoda called out.
He ran up to him, but slowed his steps when Zuko faced him with wide, alarmed eyes.
He stopped in front of him and blew out a heavy breath. “Raise your arm,” he instructed.
“Why?” Zuko asked, but put his hand out in front of him anyway.
Hakoda smiled. He clasped his hand and gave it a firm shake. “This is the Water Tribe handclasp,” he explained. “It’s a sign of respect between two people, or a way to say thank you.”
Zuko smiled, shaking it back. Even as he smiled, Hakoda noticed the burnt muscles on his face not being able to stretch enough to release that eternal scowl.
Yeah, Hakoda thought, Definitely a bigger worry.