Chapter Text
When the Fire Nation raided the Southern Water tribe it was dark then too.
It had been a calm night, the same as every other for Sokka, who like everyone else, hadn’t anticipated it. They were blissfully buried in their comfort until it was stripped away — until that first flicker of flame emerged in the distance. Then it was chaos. Immediate disarray as the atmosphere dropped, even with flames so close, Sokka distinctly remembered his blood running cold. Remembered the way his stomach sank the moment those metal monsters came into view, cutting a sharp path through their waters. Dreadful grey smoke pulsed from their ships, the only warning they got before they were upon them. Sokka could remember how that smoke obscured the stars, as if hiding what was about to happen from view.
He was young then, much too small to fight. Not that he’d even wanted to, too paralysed by the sight of soldiers beginning to slip from their ships. Small figures near melting into the night, sinking onto the snow and burning their way across. Uniformed in their armour, a morbid black and red, the precise shade they purged from the village. They were living nightmares, storming towards his home with nothing but daggers and teeth, a burning rage in their eyes that he’ll never forget. Never.
The smell of ash and smoke was forced on him that day. It clung to him growing up. A stain, something he and the tribe could not just smudge away. It was seared into them, they were all cauterised with the scorched reminder of what they were — the aftermath . Barely a tribe, merely the remnants of something once great.
It was his first glimpse into what battle could be. The only difference being, the Fire Nation left once they got what they wanted.
But they weren’t going to leave this time.
The Northern wall, a fierce blockade protecting the Northern tribe, something Sokka couldn’t help but feel a twinge of bitterness for seeing as his own tribe didn’t get that luxury of protection, was now in smithereens. Pieces of it shattering on the ground, barely missing the men who fled from its vicinity, all cowering as their beloved home crumbled around them.
Sokka’s heart sank at the sight of Fire Nation ships breaching the wall, completely unharmed because they’re made for such destruction.
There's no telling how they made it in. The Water Tribe's defence was devoted, Sokka himself struggled to keep up with the orders thrown his way. It felt, for the smallest moment, like they might succeed.
But then the moon disappeared, leaving them all in darkness.
Within the walls, people scattered in different directions. Fire Nation soldiers and Water Tribe warriors all blended into a smear of flashes of colour. Sokka struggled to see through the rising smoke, weaving through the battleground in a dizzying drawl. He’s cowered behind the debris of the wall, struggling to see where the group of warriors he’d been assigned with were. Everyone scattered as soon as the wall was breached, flinging themselves out of harm's way. Running from pieces of their own home. It's done what the Fire Nation intended — they’re all uncoordinated now.
This isn’t like the raids. This isn’t Sokka being hoarded somewhere safe out of range from the fight. He’s in it. Right in the scorched middle and while everyone else fights he’s hiding.
Ash and blood clung to his skin, darkening the beautiful blue of his parka to something sullied. He shifted, clutching the edges of his boomerang while he looked over the fight.
He needed to find Katara and Aang. Wherever they were trouble was soon to find them if it hadn’t already. Sokka couldn’t just sit here while his sister could be in danger. There was no way in hell he’d ever allow something bad to happen to her. He’d rather take the danger himself. It’s what his father would want him to do. To be the big brother — the warrior they expect him to be.
The issue is everything is in ruins. Sokka can’t even think where to begin looking.
Gritting his teeth, Sokka shifted from his knees to his feet and peered over the debris. The sight and smell of smoke singed his nostrils, it filled the area, masking who was an enemy and who was a friend. Distant shouts from Water Tribe warriors rose through the smoke but he couldn’t make out where they were, which wasn’t helpful at all.
His lungs burned, eyes watering. The longer he stayed here the harder it was going to be to navigate through the battle.
Just run quick, stay low, nobody should notice.
Sokka nodded, convincing himself rather unconvincingly and took a few steadying breaths. His boomerang was a comforting weight in his hand, made him feel like he wasn’t so alone in this mess. Just get to Katara and Aang. Team Avatar were better together, this he knew undoubtedly. They’d survived this far and Sokka was certain they would survive much further. They just needed to be together.
Bolstering himself, Sokka swallowed heavily, then bolted.
Into the heart of the battle where it was a sea of smoke and fire. A hearth of destruction, deep and dark enough for Sokka’s heart to pound. It was so dark. Shadows lurched among the smoke, erupting with fierce flames that made Sokka’s gut clench. Water Tribe warriors fought tirelessly against the Fire Nation soldiers, each of them blending into a smear of grey he couldn’t decipher. The sound of boomerangs lashing out, swords clashing in a rattling brawl erupted from every direction. The unfurling of fire burned in his ears, along with the sound of weapons slashing out, severing the flames where they grew.
He barrelled around a corner just in time to watch a Water Tribe warrior launch his club at a Fire Nation soldier bent over two warriors, flushing a ceaseless fire into their already charred bodies.
His stomach churned. The smell of burning flesh seared the air, sharp enough to ram down his throat before he could think to hold his breath.
Sick — he felt sick at it all.
Battle wasn’t honourable. There was no honour in this — in the blood spilling over snow. In the stain leaching through this home. It’s so unfair and yet nobody seemed to think differently. Everyone fought like they had something to prove, to avenge. As if it was all they knew how to do and yeah, Sokka supposed it was. But it shouldn’t be.
For one harrowing moment, he imagined this as his life. The warrior he’s supposed to be. The sea of smoke, the taste of ash in his mouth and the smell of coppery blood forever in his nose. A blade carved to the shape of his hand and an open wound, forever gaping.
The life of a warrior, to always fight.
In that regrettable moment, Sokka felt like a child again. A pitiful child, desperate for someone to just say stop and make it all okay.
Of course nobody was going to. Nobody ever did make it okay.
It was just him now and he needed to find Katara. He needed to snap out of this and do something before he got himself killed. Because for once in his life he, his sister and Aang were going to make it okay. They were going to do their best to win this war for all those who failed before them. A task he never dreamed would be upon his shoulders yet it’s where he’s at. The moment they found Aang in that iceberg, lack of hair and childish wit and all, something changed. Something cataclysmic — the pieces of the war finally slipping into place, into something fixable .
They were going to do it. The three of them together, so sights like this would never have to be seen again.
Swallowing the thickness in his throat, Sokka charged forward with renewed vigour. The warrior he’d just seen kill the soldier approached his enemy without a flicker of emotion. A glimpse of him wrenching his club from the man’s chest was all Sokka saw before he ventured too far into the smoke.
As he sprinted through the ruined city, his mind ran.
Katara couldn’t be far, she’d never stray too far from a fight (if his life is any proof, it’s what she lived for). She’s more than likely with Aang, so that mercifully narrowed down the search. Sokka hadn’t been able to keep track of everything since the battle started. It was just defend and hide .
Would they be seeking advice from Avatar Kuruk? If so they might have sought Yue’s help, in which case, Sokka needed to get to them fast.
He skidded around the corner, ready to head into the heart of the city when all of a sudden a spiral of flame came his way.
An angry orange and red, scorching hot. The fire flashed murderously and Sokka’s heart thundered. He released a sharp gasp, throwing himself back and slammed himself to the earth.
Furious panic clawed up his throat. Sokka watched as flames skimmed the space where he’d just been standing.
They nearly hit him.
An onslaught of emotion seized him for the sharpest moment. Driving through him with such power his breath struggled to return to him. He could have died. That was nearly it. He wouldn’t have been strong enough to stop it if he hadn’t seen it.
Are they ever strong enough to stop it?
A sharp laugh cut through his spiralling thoughts. The timbre of it chilling. He scrambled to his feet, dizzy and looked, spotting the Fire Nation soldier who fired at him smirking.
The man was tall and broad, imposing enough to have Sokka take a step back. The Fire soldier caught the movement and the smirk underneath his helmet grew into a grin, pointed and harsh. He dropped from where he was standing, what Sokka assumed was a pile of charred debris but, when he took a closer look it was actually — bile surged up his throat — it was bodies.
Dozens of them blackened and frail, piled up like logs for a pyre. Staged like a throne and this soldier jumped from them proudly, a grin on his face and malice in his eyes. If anyone were to look underneath the obsidian plated armour, he would undoubtedly be smothered in blood.
Sokka’s stomach rolled. He needed to go .
“Scared, little water rat?” the soldier taunted.
Quite, he resisted saying, flicking his attention to the right.
This area of the city used to home dozens of organised homes of ice. Many of them under the siege crumpled and torn. But between them, Sokka spotted a rather functioning alleyway which didn’t seem to have suffered much from the onslaught. If he could get through there, he could escape.
His thought process must have been obvious, because seconds later a barrage of fire dove for the alleyway. It collapsed upon impact, unable to bear the weight of such heat. Such power. Sokka’s heart sank seeing his only escape route vanish.
The soldier turned to him, flame still alight in his hand. “Oh no,” he said, near gleeful. “Nowhere to run now.”
Without wasting a moment, the soldier launched forth. Sokka barely had time to drag himself away from the flames coming for him. The whisper of their heat grazed his back as he spun around, panting as the soldier lashed out, a whip of flame emerging from his hands.
Sokka leapt upwards, allowing the whip to scrape the ground. The soldier hissed, disgruntled and he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction for finally one-upping him. Small victories and short lived by the way the soldier swung to him, lips sharpened into a smile.
“Who knew rats could fly?” he sneered.
“Who knew Fire Nation soldiers were so chatty?” Sokka retorted before he could think better of it.
Not the best idea. The soldier smirked as if Sokka’s words were nothing but fuel for his flame. It took one heartbeat for him to retaliate, swinging on his feet to kick out a curve of flame. Sokka ducked and rolled out of the way, gritting his teeth and kept rolling when the soldier didn’t stop. The flame kept coming at him in waves, stronger than tides and Sokka felt a certain type of irony in that. He was usually good at managing waves when they couldn’t burn him to a crisp.
He rolled so far he ended up underneath a pile of debris from one of the city’s homes. Beams of ice formed a shelter around him and Sokka allowed himself a second to gasp when he saw a flash of black and red outside.
“Oh look,” the soldier mused, lightly prowling the shelter. “The rat’s finally in his cage.”
Despite the rapid pace of his heart, Sokka found it in himself to frown at the taunting.
He needed to get out of here. Perhaps there was a gap big enough for him to squeeze through, if only he could anticipate which side the soldier would be on—
A freezing droplet fell onto his cheek, causing him to flinch. Sokka frowned, scrubbing it away when several others followed suit. He swiped them away, narrowing his eyes up where the ceiling of his debris was the thickest, panels of ice overlapping the other to create a fortress. He honed in on the source of the drops, realising with horror that the ice was melting.
He was melting it from the outside in.
Sokka inhaled sharply and scrambled onto his front. There were no obvious exits from where he was but perhaps he could make one. His boomerang, sweaty and shaking in his hands, had never felt so helpful. Shuffling forward, he dragged his arm up through the cramped space and began to hack at the ice.
Sweat prickled along his temples from the steadily growing heat. Those droplets were beginning to grow into a steady stream and the sound of the fire was getting closer and closer.
“Come on, little rat,” the soldier coaxed. “Let’s get you nice and warm.”
“Tui and La,” Sokka hissed, grunting as his boomerang chipped off another slate of ice. “You talk too much.”
A bellowing laugh. Another wave of fire and more drops came. Sokka’s hands ached when he dug his boomerang into the ice. His throat constricted, there was a small opening beginning to make itself known. He just needed more time…
“I love it when they fight,” the soldier continued — unbelievable. “Nothing makes it better when the enemy squirms.”
“You.” Sokka gritted his teeth. “Need.” His boomerang cut through the ice, a chunk fell away, enough for his head. “To get a hobby.”
The ice burned his fingers but Sokka didn’t care. He shoved his arm with the boomerang through the gap he’d made, using his hands to pry it open further, make it bigger. All the while hearing the soldier laugh above him, taunting and forever grating against his skin.
“Perhaps you’d like to be my new hobby, little rat. I do love a challenge.”
A challenge he is but this is not something Sokka is going to rise to today.
Heaving, Sokka braced himself on the edges of the gap and pulled. The sides were a bit thin and dragged painfully against his ribs, but he bore it with gritted teeth, gasping when he felt the echo of fire finally pierce through the debris where he’d just been.
Without wasting a breath, Sokka scrambled as far away as he could. He shuddered at the sound of the soldier’s angered shout, clearly realising the shelter of debris was now empty. There wasn’t enough energy in him to feel satisfied he’d fooled him.
Sweat soaked his skin and his throat was leached of anything but ash and smoke. Sokka forced down the rattle in his chest as he leapt a distance away behind a half-broken wall.
This soldier was relentless. Even worse than Prince Ponytail who was noticeably absent. Sokka would prefer him. At least there wasn’t any of this deviance like there was in this soldier. Even the sound of his voice was enough to make Sokka’s stomach roil. There was just something about him that wasn’t right.
Distantly, the soldier jumped from the debris back to the ground. His faint tutting brought a chill down Sokka’s spine.
“Slippery — how fitting.”
Smoke lingered in the area, enough to mask where he was for now but not forever. The battle still raged on elsewhere, Sokka could hear it but it wasn’t close. They were completely alone and nobody would be coming to help.
“Come out, little rat.”
Sokka squeezed his eyes shut. The soldier wasn’t too close but he was getting there. He could hear his footsteps just a few feet away, probably perusing the alleyway to see if he’d tried his initial plan. The way his heart pounded in his chest was inhuman, it must be giving him away, no matter how hard he tried to quieten it.
A few footsteps. Silence. Then the sound of roaring flames echoed far behind.
“No, not there.”
Another swarm of flame echoed and the soldier tutted again.
“I wonder where you could be.”
Again and again he burned his way through whatever cover was in his path. Sokka wanted to retch when he felt him getting nearer. He could no longer hold back the panic sinking into his bones. His body shook with each flare he heard and each cackle the soldier let out, as if he knew he was torturing him.
There was no way he could stay like this. The soldier would find him eventually or perhaps he already knew. Either way, it was certain death to stay put.
A distraction is what he needed. Something to capture his attention for even the slightest second so Sokka could run off, put some distance between them. He’d be able to think clearer without the fire at his back. Without the soldier’s constant narration which he seemed quite enthused at.
His fingers glided over the boomerang, frowning at it.
If he could get one hit in to knock him away, Sokka would have a chance to flee. But not from this angle. It would give him away.
Looking up, Sokka ignored the soldier’s taunting and surveyed the area. There was another broken wall just across the path, smaller than this one but good enough to shield him. It gave a good enough vantage for Sokka to throw his boomerang and run around the corner. Back there he had several directions he could go to throw the soldier off his scent.
Right, let’s get to it then.
Sokka crouched by the edge of his wall, closing his eyes and listening to the soldier’s taunting. He was banging on about the thrill of the chase, something tedious Sokka did not care for right now. However, he supposed it was something to be grateful for. The soldier’s constant talk allowed him to gauge how far away he was.
A barrage of flame, another patch of debris rumbling to the ground. The soldier’s pursuing cackle and following footsteps.
Sucking in a breath, Sokka waited for the next spiral of flame.
One, two…
A flash, burning and red — Sokka ran.
Skidded across the ground until he slid around the opposite wall. Didn’t even waste a moment to reconsider or look over his shoulder. His heart was in his throat and when he slid around the corner of it, he caught a glimpse of the soldier looking over his shoulder just as Sokka found cover. Pressed against the ice and frightened to move.
He squeezed his eyes shut, forced his tangled chest to unwind. Shaking.
“Oh little rat, I do love the way you scurry,” the soldier chuckled, the sound haunting even among the death cries of battle. “It’s like you’re too afraid to face me. Like you know I could ruin you if I wanted.”
Sokka hated to admit how right he was. How much those words slid over his neck in a telling noose.
“I can smell the fear on you. It’s fucking divine.”
Disgust swam through him, stirring the bile in his throat. But he couldn’t dwell on it, he’d already wasted enough time fucking scared as it is. He needed to follow through on the plan. Needed to find Katara.
Ignoring the tremble in his bones, Sokka shifted until he was kneeling. His boomerang burned in his grip, as if preparing for its target. Forcing himself to calm, Sokka waited and waited, listening as the soldier got closer and closer.
The roar of flames thundered through his ears, close enough for him to feel the reverberating heat.
“Come on little rat,” the soldier sneered, his voice rumbling near. “Show me how you bite.”
“Because you asked so nicely.”
A moment, the soldier paused. That’s all Sokka gave him before he propelled himself to his feet and launched his boomerang. Stood stoically watching as it sailed toward him, as the soldier turned with an aggravated shout just as it buried itself into the side of his helmet and knocked him to the ground.
Sokka ran.
Dove back into the smoke and ash and let himself get pulled deeper. He was panting, fear lurching up his throat in a tight clasp. He couldn’t feel himself, only the pounding in his ears and the shaking of his body. His only thought was run, run, run — he needed to get away in order to find his sister. Needed away from that soldier, so fucking evil compared to what he’s used to. Is that reality? The reality of his enemy, of the war itself. Is this what it comes to? Spill so much blood, it gets all over your hands and mouth until you get a taste for it — a need for it because you can’t recognise what’s underneath.
Sokka didn’t know and he didn’t want to. It was all so messed up.
He weaved through the battle. Narrowly missing lashing flames and the blows of weapons from his own people. All too caught up in the throes, too buried under the ashes to see who’s water and who’s not.
Because it doesn’t matter here.
They’re all just dead, aren’t they?
This isn’t like the Southern Raiders. They came and they went but this was never going to leave. Sokka would never forget this — this bone-crushing fear. He’d thought he was ready, he knew he had to be for his family because they looked to him as the next warrior, as their protector. Battle was in his blood, in his history so that meant he was to be ready.
Born with a boomerang in his hand but no idea how to use it. Born into a war with no idea how to stop it.
Can he ever do it right?
There’s a battle around him and one just as vicious thundering through his head. Sokka’s consumed by it. Utterly taken with the warring in his mind that he doesn’t think to stop when turning a corner — doesn’t manage to stop himself from colliding with the man coming from the other direction.
They collide in a tangle of limbs. Sokka’s head spun, colliding with hard metal before falling to the ground. Instinctively, he fought back, rolling around with the other body until they collided with the side of the bridge they were on, overlooking the water.
The other man was substantially stronger. Sokka wheezed as he was slammed to the ground, air knocked from him. An arm was suddenly at his throat, shoved against his windpipe and he could do nothing against it.
Above him, the stars framed the face of his enemy who loomed over his body. Sokka’s head was dizzy but he managed to make out the familiar face, his stomach rolling even more as he realised.
“Admiral Zhao.”
The Admiral snarled, pushing further down onto Sokka’ throat until he was choking. Scrabbling under firm hands covered in metal. Burning metal which pushed into his sides. Cut into him deeper than knives.
It took a moment for Zhao’s surprise to leave him. The tenacity in his gaze suddenly sharpened as he took in Sokka’s face.
“You’re the Avatar’s companion,” he muttered, recognition finally lighting up his face. Enough to make whatever spark inside Sokka die. No.
Futilely, Sokka shook his head. His vision blurred by the continuous pressure cutting off his air flow.
Zhao’s eyes burned now, not with murderous desire, but with intrigue.
There was no time for Sokka to react before Zhao lifted him up and smashed his head to the ground.
The last thing he saw before oblivion approached was the sight of the moon, finally lighting up the sky once more. Sokka wanted to follow it, but darkness prevailed.