Chapter Text
Zuko steps off the ship with an entire nation’s worth of expectations on his shoulders.
He’s been trained for this, has had perfect posture beat into him since he was old enough to stand and has been rehearsing the lines since they left the Fire Nation. Uncle is beside him, a strong, steady alpha, a friendly buffer, but he won’t be staying. Once the ceremony is over and Zuko is welcomed into the tribe, Uncle will return to Caldera City and leave Zuko alone in the South Pole.
With his new husband. Who he knows nothing about, other than he’s an alpha, and he’s the chief of the Southern Water Tribe.
Members of the tribe have gathered for his arrival, their blue figures cutting through the snowy white landscape, but Zuko doesn’t pay them much mind as he follows Uncle down the gangplank and onto the dock, where one man waits alone for them to debark.
“Chief Sokka,” Uncle bows to the chief, hands forming a traditional Fire Nation greeting, and Zuko mimics him, eyes on his boots. “Thank you for welcoming us to your home. Such beauty! In all my travels, I have never beheld the South before. So… white.”
Zuko has to hand it to his uncle, nothing phases him, even as he uses words like white to describe the land of ice and snow.
Agni, save him.
“General Iroh,” the chief bows stiffly back. “I thank you both for making the journey and hope La granted you smooth travels.”
“The journey was pleasant and swift,” Uncle says, then he clears his throat. “And may I present Prince Zuko, only omega son of Firelord Ozai.”
Zuko clenches his jaw at the introduction but bows again anyway, lower this time.
“Chief.”
“Your Highness,” Chief Sokka nods back, and then he steps back and gestures towards the gathered group with a gloved hand. Zuko’s own fingers fist in his robes, already feeling the chill. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” Uncle says, and the chief, with a quick glance at Zuko who stays behind the two alphas, leads them to where a few people who are lined up in front of the crowd on solid land. He gestures with his hand and a few people break away to duck their heads and scurry by the Fire Nationals towards the large metal ship looming over the harbor, waving a red flag.
Zuko accidentally catches the chieftain’s eye as the alpha appraises their ship with an unreadable look, but he quickly looks down again, feeling the phantom pain of his governess swatting his forearms with the long, thin stick she carries with her in case of her displeasure. His father didn’t care how he was treated so long as he acted properly in public — omegas are made to be seen and enjoyed, and not heard. Zuko repeats his lessons in the back of his head as he follows the chieftain to a line of four people who wait to greet the new arrivals, eyeing the two royals with varying looks of distrust and resignation.
“I believe you know my father, Chief Hakoda.”
“Of course!” Uncle smiles and bows to Hakoda, who to Zuko’s understanding only stepped down before the ice season set in. Zuko’s heard stories of the former chieftain from Uncle, who did his best to prepare him on the voyage. According to him, Chief Hakoda is a strong alpha, fiercely protective and filled with unwavering loyalty for his tribe, and whip smart in any situation. Uncle, once battlefield enemies with the chief, had only good things to say about the man, his wartime strategies, and political prowess that came to light in the early peacetime negotiations before his son began traveling and speaking for the tribe in his place. “Retirement suits you, Chief.”
“I like to think so,” Hakoda says back with a tight smile. He’s strong, aura and heavy pheromones and power almost giving Zuko a head rush. Suddenly he’s back in the throne room, staring at his father’s feet as the blood from his nose drips to the floor and fingersclaws are digging into the nape of his neck you will finally make yourself useful.
“My partner, Bato.” Zuko blinks and bright white replaces the dark room and the flames. He takes a step down the line, following Uncle as the former chief introduces the tallest beta Zuko has ever seen standing to his right. Bato stands almost a full head taller than Hakoda, who is about his son's height, nearly a head taller than Zuko and Uncle. He smiles serenely and bows, the most relaxed of everyone in the line. Zuko doesn’t know much about the beta, only that he and Hakoda grew up together, remained close friends even when Hakoda was mated with his wife, and that he served as a loyal Second in Hakoda’s fleet.
“A pleasure,” Bato says. Zuko thinks the beta tries to catch his eyes but he keeps his gaze firmly down. It’ll be easier to get a feel for everyone when they’re out of this weather, and maybe once Zuko has had a bath.
“This is my grandmother, my father’s mother, Kanna,” Chief Sokka says, continuing down the line. He nods respectfully at the alpha beside Bato as he introduces her. She may reach Zuko’s shoulder if they were side to side, if just barely, and looks to be older even than Grandsire was when he died at the end of the war. Zuko studies the thin lines tattooed on Kanna’s forehead and cheeks, and the beads in the hair loops framing her face. The mother of one chief and grandmother of the present one, Zuko bows low to her. One of the tribe’s elders, Uncle told him, she holds the most power after the Head Chieftain, presiding over the council of elders who make all important decisions for the tribe. If you’re going to get on anyone’s good side, get on hers.
“And my sister,” Chief Sokka approaches the final person in the lineup, who watches the proceedings with crossed arms and narrow eyes. “Katara.”
The alpha with similar, but not the same, markings and hairstyle as her grandmother nods her head shortly, but Uncle still smiles jovially at her and bows. She’s not watching him, though, is too busy sizing up Zuko who stands obediently one step behind his uncle, hands hidden in the sleeves of his robes.
“A beautiful family, Chief.” Uncle turns slightly and holds a hand out to Zuko, who steps forward with a slow breath. “My nephew, Prince Zuko.” Zuko hears Uncle’s voice tighten as he says, “the Fire Lord is pleased with the arrangement, and is sorry to be missing the ceremony.”
He couldn’t be bothered.
“It is an honor to be welcomed to your home,” Zuko says softly. “Thank you for your generosity.”
There’s a moment where no one seems to know what to say, as the chief looks at Zuko who looks back at him — Zuko has never seen such blue eyes before — the quiet broken when Hakoda clears his throat.
Sokka goes back to his father and takes the proffered slim box, turning to approach Zuko. He flashes him a tentative smile, but Zuko barely meets his eyes before his attention is stolen by the wooden box presented to him.
“A gift,” the chief murmurs, “to celebrate our engagement.”
His voice makes the choreographed moment feel oddly intimate, words seemingly only for them despite the dozens of eyes watching their every movement, despite his father’s men closely monitoring the first meeting from the rail of the ship to report back on the pairing’s success. Zuko can’t help looking up at Sokka again, taking in his expression, and Sokka nudges the box slightly closer to him.
Zuko’s eyes flicker to his uncle, who nods at him, and Zuko pulls his hands out from his robes to take the box.
There are a few gasps as Zuko’s hands come into view, each of his fingers pure black at the tips like burnt coal, fading along the lengths and disappearing completely where his knuckles meet the rest of his hand. Zuko knows he’s not the omega this tribe was expecting for their chief, with his black, firebender fingers and the red burn scar taking up half his face, marring otherwise unblemished skin.
“Thank you,” Zuko says quietly. Sokka’s smile softens slightly and he looks pointedly down at the box, which Zuko takes as his cue to open it. He gasps when he does, as he takes in the choker laid flat in the box.
A beautiful pale blue stone has been rounded and smoothed to shine, and in the center a clean circle has been painstakingly carved with a crescent moon cutting through it. Small sunrays stretch out towards the edge of the stone, some straight, some wavy, but each deliberately placed with even space between them. The blue pendant is attached to a deep red ribbon that Zuko runs a finger along the length of, feeling the softness under his fingers and a burning in the back of his throat. He’s so touched, so surprised, at the inclusion of his home nation in the symbol. It’s kinder than most would be when marrying into a new life, better than he deserves.
This is already so much harder than he thought it would be.
Do not forget where you come from. Do not forget who you serve.
“Thank you,” Zuko says again, but these aren’t empty words. He means it this time, struck with the simple beauty of the choker. He’d think his voice was lost in the ocean wind if it weren’t for Sokka gently taking the box back and lifting the choker out, having removed his gloves while Zuko was processing the level of detail and care that clearly went into it.
“May I?”
Zuko turns, lifting his hair from his neck as Sokka drapes the choker around his neck and ties it. It’s tight but not uncomfortably so, and the pendant sits right in the divot of his collarbones. The stone settles in place like a shackle, locking him in.
Zuko faces Sokka, who hasn’t stepped back, leaving them nearly chest-to-chest but not eye-to-eye, the alpha nearly a full head taller than Zuko. Sokka is warm, his body helping shield Zuko from the frigid winds, and Zuko, getting his first, unhidden look at the alpha, thinks that if circumstances were different he’s someone Zuko could truly be interested in. He looks like a sailor, skin tanned from days working in the sun, with a strong jaw and hard brows. He’s tall and broad, more so under his thick parka with fur trimmings, and his hair is pulled back from his face with the sides shaved. Zuko thinks he sees a few inked tendrils snaking their way up his neck and almost, almost, wonders what his body looks like under the bulky clothing, if he’s as covered in ink as the pattern on his neck implies.
Sokka’s eyes are locked on the choker now tied around his neck.
“Ah, young love.” Zuko winces as Uncle speaks up, and then claps his hands, effectively shattering the mood. “Now, I do wonder if we can move this inside. Or, at least, behind those big walls that are probably useful for blocking wind out?” Uncle rubs his hands together and exhales sparks from his nose.
“Uncle,” Zuko hisses, scandalized that he would firebend in the first few minutes of meeting Zuko’s new family, but the old man is too set in his ways as he waves Zuko off, and Hakoda and Bato graciously lead him along a smooth path towards high white ice walls.
Katara doesn’t spare Zuko another glance, holding her arm out for her grandmother as the two follow the alphas and beta into the city.
And, for the first time, Zuko and Sokka have a moment alone — if they ignore the continued bustling on the dock around them. A flash of red steals Zuko’s attention for a moment as his father’s delegation reaches the dock. Chen, the leader and an alpha Zuko is ready to see the back of, gives Zuko a stern look as he turns to oversee the unloading of their things — the two chests that carry all of Zuko’s life that he cared to bring with him, their own luggage, and everything included in Zuko’s dowry — by a mix of their own sailors and the warriors Sokka sent over.
Sokka exhales, then offers his arm to Zuko much like his sister did for their grandmother with a shy smile, expression much more boyish than chiefly.
“That could’ve gone worse,” he mutters with a half shrug.
Zuko studies him, molten amber meeting the deep ocean blue of the chief’s own eyes. Zuko can’t read the emotions in those waves, but he thinks his expression is both cautious and curious. He doesn’t sneer at Zuko now that they’re not being watched by the members of their families, didn’t try to lean in when he put the choker on for a hint of Zuko’s scent, and now isn’t rushing Zuko.
Much like with the box, Sokka gives him a moment to think and then offers his arm again. This time Zuko takes it, fitting his hand neatly in the crook of Sokka’s elbow, black fingers sharp against the light blue of his parka.
“I’m sure you’re tired after your journey,” the chief says as they join the procession heading back to the city proper. “There’s only the feast tonight, but that will start pretty much when we walk in. No moment of rest, I’m afraid.” He shoots Zuko a sheepish look, though Zuko isn’t sure why. He expected this, expected to be kept busy and thrust right into celebrations, though he is mourning that bath. “Those can last until the morning, but please, don’t feel like you have to stay up. I won’t be.”
“Of course,” Zuko says, and he’s not sure if the Sokka normally acts differently at celebrations, staying out and drinking until morning when Agni’s rays are kissing the horizon, or if bowing out early is expected behavior for the chief.
He understands about tomorrow, with the wedding and all. There are traditions to be upheld, final preparations to be done in the morning. Zuko realizes that for all he tried to study, as much as he tried to understand what kind of world he was walking in to, he has no idea what to expect with the wedding itself. There’s still so much they don’t know about the Southern Water Tribe and their traditions, their way of life, with their own information outdated by over a century. He wonders if there’s anyone he can ask, anyone who can give him a summary before the ceremony itself.
Sokka looks down at him and Zuko absently raises his free hand to his neck, aware that his scent probably just soured and there’s no way the alpha on his arm didn’t notice. He doesn’t say anything, just warns Zuko of uneven ground.
Zuko bites his lip and watches Sokka out of the corner of his eye, feels him gently tug on his arm to redirect him when the path splits, notices how Sokka easily puts his free hand on top of Zuko’s in his arm to help steady him where the incline changes and Zuko’s Fire Nation shoes, not meant for slick ice, force him to take smaller steps than he was.
He casts a glance over his shoulder and, not seeing any of his father’s men within hearing distance, drifts slightly closer with his next step so his shoulder brushes Sokka’s. Sokka shoots him a small smile at the contact and doesn’t move away.
“I think I’ll take my cues from you tonight,” Zuko says, and he was going to anyway but saying it feels sort of like extending a blackolive branch. They’re in this together now, as much as Zuko hates to admit it. Hates relying on an alpha.
“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Sokka says immediately, then his hand tightens again as he mutters, “watch your step, just here.”
Zuko holds his long Fire Nation robes up in his free hand, annoyed with how everything he wears is dragging in the snow. It makes him feel heavy and cumbersome, further limiting his movements. He has a cloak on too, the warmest he has with fur lining the neck and shoulders but it’s still not quite enough protection, and he shivers when another strong wind blows.
Sokka’s arm is firm and steady, though, as he leads Zuko up the stairs and through the doorway which, he realizes, was revealed by waterbending. Zuko watches as the chief’s sister swiftly seals the wall back up once their party is safely inside, leaving a seamless ice wall in its place.
Trapped. Once he’s in, there’s no way out.
He supposes that’s what his father wants for him, anyway.
They reach a ledge with a railing hip-height and, instead of taking Zuko down the stairs with the rest of their group, Sokka leads him to the edge.
“I know it’s no Fire Nation…” he says, but he’s standing tall, clearly proud of his city, this fortress in the ice. His home.
“It’s beautiful, Chief,” Zuko says, and just like with the necklace, he finds that he really means it. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
To his left are buildings, small structures giving way to large, multi-story buildings cut entirely in the massive cliff walls that Zuko noticed when they sailed in, protecting the city on its land-bound border. Everything seems to connect to the structures around it the closer to the city center he looks, and scattered between some of the building clusters are flat platforms with symbols carved into the ground. Central staircases, and in some cases ladders, provide access to the upper buildings, and cutting through the center is a small canal. Zuko sees a few different canoes traversing it, and wonders if this is a daily mode of transport for Sokka’s people. His people, now. Well.
Don’t forget where you come from.
The wall extends to his right, lining the ocean border and protecting the main city from the various ships that come into harbor, for all their abundant trade with the Earth Kingdom and, now, the Fire Nation. If he cranes his neck he’d be able to see people unloading cargo, discussing routes, and arguing over payment, but he doesn’t bother. He’ll have plenty of time to learn all about the Southern Water Tribe once he’s married. It’s only the rest of his life.
“You don’t have much experience with ice, do you?”
“I grew up in the middle of a volcano, “Zuko admits with a small smile. “But I’m nothing if not adaptable.”
“I’m sure you are,” Sokka says quietly, taking in the left side of Zuko’s face. He decides he’s not sure what the alpha means by that and lets himself be guided down the stairs to a platform where a small canoe is waiting, already half filled with Uncle, Hakoda, and Katara. Another small canoe is further up the canal, filled with other familiar figures.
Sokka smoothly straddles the dock, stepping one foot down into the boat and keeping one on the platform as he offers Zuko a hand. At this angle they’re about the same height, and Zuko takes his hand, accepting his help to step into the small boat.
Uncle immediately reaches for him, tugging him into the open seat at his side. It’s an odd break in decorum that Zuko is sure the Water Tribe alphas don’t notice, but in the Fire Nation, Zuko would have been expected to sit with either his betrothed or the former chief, to entertain them and become familiar with each others company, a sign of good will. Zuko figures that his Uncle is feeling especially sentimental with the wedding tomorrow night and the knowledge that their time together is dwindling, so he goes where he’s led like the good omega he was raised to be, sitting beside his Uncle and pressing their shoulders together.
Sokka unties the boat and doesn’t hesitate to take the final open seat beside his father, and then Katara is waterbending them away from the platform and down the river. Zuko zones out as the three alphas continue in their shallow, cordial conversation, all for show, it’s all just for show, and instead watches the icy building as they pass. The buildings get more intricate as they get closer to what Zuko assumes is the city’s center, with large, grand carvings cut into building sides and on the bridges that connect either side of the canal.
As they make their way further into the city, the streets they pass get busier, filling with people passing on the bridges over the canals and walking alongside them, working and conversing, hardly sparing the boats a glance.
The small port where they stop looks no different from the others they passed besides a marker with a design, and Sokka is the first one off the boat, secures the boat to the stake once Katara has guided it to the edge of the walkway. Hakoda is the second one off, followed by Uncle, and Zuko takes Sokka’s hand again when it’s offered, not yet used to balancing on such a small boat.
The tribespeople lead them along a slim path and through another wall to what Zuko assumes is the palace. They’ve come up the side of it, or Zuko thinks they have, but it’s not a large building like the palace in the Fire Nation and the Northern Tribe, rather a collection of several groupings of huts and buildings, some small and some up to three stories high, connected by different tunnels and paths.
They go in through a nondescript door and into a simple mud room where everyone can kick the snow off their boots and strip out of their outermost layers. Even though the palace, too, is made of ice, it’s much more comfortable inside than it was outside, safe from the wind and elements, and there are a few tapestries and woven blankets on the walls to help insulate. Their coats are taken by attendants and then Zuko and his uncle are walked further through the palace, getting a basic tour on their way.
The palace is home not just to the tribe’s presiding family but to many other offices for those essential to the protection and management of the tribe. The groups of buildings each have different functions, ranging from private sleeping quarters to Council chambers to the large feasting hall, where they’re heading now, which is large enough to seat the whole tribe so they can share meals.
The hall is at the front of the palace, and one wall is decorated with several tall arches that are filled in but, Hakoda explains, can be removed using waterbending to open the hall to the courtyard out front. They often do this for celebrations and festivals during the warmer months, but are keeping the hall closed since the ice months are still waning and the wind is still sharp.
The party makes their way to a long wooden table on a raised platform at one end of the room. A long bench allows those seated there to look out over the room while they eat, and there are a few cushions along the benches for people to sit on.
Zuko takes what is now his seat directly to the chief’s right as his husband, to-be mate. In the Fire Nation they sit directly on the floor, so he and Uncle both have to somewhat awkwardly step over the bench in their robes to take their seats. Once settled, Zuko takes in more of the room, choosing to ignore as members of the tribe are starting to trickle in and take up places at the many tables that run perpendicular to the head table and stretch almost the full length of the room.
The large hall is made of ice, like every other building they’ve seen, with a domed ceiling carved with different symbols of the Water Tribe.
In addition to the primary entrance, consisting of two large sets of double doors in the arched wall, there are other small doorways in each corner of the room, and the wall directly across from the head table at the far end of the room contains a stage and a faux waterfall, with water running below the stage and into a pool that extends partway into the room
The room is probably large enough to hold a few hundred people, could easily house the full Fire Nation court and then some.
It’s incredible, if it makes Zuko’s breath fog. He lifts his hands and closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. His hands hide the few stray sparks that come out with the heat as Zuko works to warm himself. He spots his Uncle at the other side of the table, between Hakoda and Bato. Bato looks amused by his uncle, is engaging in his questions, while Hakoda just watches the two quietly.
Zuko tries to remember if the two alphas ever faced off on the battlefield. And look at them now. Frigidly civil.
Servants begin bringing out food and drinks, setting the tables with a grand display that Zuko knows is supposed to show him, his uncle, and the delegation of his nation that the Southern Water Tribe is wealthy in their way and more than capable of caring for their chief’s new mate, but everything that’s happened since Zuko stepped off the ship has made him feel dirty. He hates the show they all put on, hates the way he just rolls over and does it.
As his eyes scan the room he catches the sharp eye of Chen, the head of his father’s advisors responsible for him until he’s officially wedded, seated with the rest of the delegation at the end of a table near his seat. His hands clasp each other in his lap and he takes a slow, deep breath.
The room steadily fills with quiet conversation as people who split for the day, whether for work or training or frivolity, reunite and eagerly catch each other up. The tables fill quickly, and Zuko isn’t completely blind, as much as his father liked to taunt him for it. He feels people looking at him, whispering about him. He knows he and his uncle stand out in their black and grey and red, and Zuko hides his black fingers in the robes pooled in his lap, even if no one can see them but Sokka to his left at the center of the table and Kanna to his right, with Katara to her right.
Sokka watches his tribe filter in, watches kids squeal and run laps around the tables even though they’re not supposed to run in the banquet hall, smiles at mothers and fathers who hug their children and press their foreheads together, smiles and thanks helpers as they set the table before them. Zuko watches him, and thinks the words used to describe Hakoda back on the ship also apply to his son: fiercely protective and unwaveringly loyal.
He sees it in the chief’s posture, smells it in the way the alpha’s scent mellows more and more as his people fill the room.
And Zuko is suddenly struck with the thought of how he can do this to these people.
“Quick rundown,” the chief turns to him suddenly and Zuko blinks at him before inclining his head. “I’m going to say something, I’ll introduce you, you do not have to say something,” Agni and her little blessings, “then we eat, and then people are probably going to want to come up and meet you, but we’ve agreed to keep most of that for after the wedding.”
“And then, up until morning?” Zuko ventures. Sokka looks at him, surprised, and his scent blooms in delight.
“You’ll fit right in.” He winks and shifts on his cushion. “You really don’t have to stay up, though,” Sokka quickly assures him once more, and then he stands.
The hall instantly falls silent.
“Friends,” Sokka holds his arms out, and he smiles. “Brothers, sisters, I’m glad to share another meal with you all. I’m thankful for the food before us, provided by Tui and La, hunted and gathered and painstakingly prepared by those in this room. I thank you for your work and for your diligence, and I have to say, it looks fantastic.”
The room titters as those who assisted with preparations are nudged and thanked.
“We have much to celebrate tonight!” Sokka’s voice echoes around the ice hall and he smiles. “La has smiled upon us, as Prince Zuko and General Iroh arrived earlier today, and we thank the sea for their safe passage. We invite all members of the Fire Nation delegation to treat at our tables, to dine as allies. I hope you all enjoy your time South. May this be the first of many visits among friends.”
The tribe breaks out in murmurs again, but they’re different, eyes on the omega draped in red at their chief’s side.
Sokka turns, then, to Zuko, and the choker around his neck suddenly feels too tight. Zuko holds his gaze. “I look forward to uniting not just ourselves, but our nations for generations to come.”
Sokka raises his tankard and the rest of the room does, too, Zuko included though not all members of his father’s delegation do the same, strong show of unity, gentlemen, and then everyone takes a drink together, cheering in a toast after.
Zuko watches the room as Sokka speaks, and, he realizes with a flash, this is what a leader is. When his father speaks men stand stick straight, tremble when he passes too close, fear risking his wrath. Here, though, in this warm room despite being surrounded by ice, the members of Sokka’s tribe are watching him with warmth and admiration, are clearly holding onto his every word, and Sokka is magnetic, the way he controls the room, the way he speaks to his tribe.
This is an alpha.
Zuko looks down. Zhao always commanded rooms, too. He’s still half worried the admiral will make good on his threat and show up for the wedding in his father’s stead, but he’s counting on the fact that Zhao cares more about himself than he does about Zuko, and he won’t want to waste his time.
Sokka settles back into his seat and, after he takes a bite of food, everyone turns back to their own tables and conversations, and suddenly no one is looking at Zuko.
Well, no one but Sokka, who offers Zuko the second bite of the table. This feels significant, somehow, and he feels like he’s passed another test when Zuko takes the small bite balanced on a flat piece of bread and puts it in his mouth. He purposefully doesn’t look at Sokka’s hand as he does, doesn’t wonder what the alpha would’ve done if Zuko had leaned forward and eaten the food right out of his fingers.
In the back of his mind, he wonders if the stress of the last moon is triggering his heat, but he also thinks it’s just his body’s reaction to an actual attractive, eligible alpha being in his general vicinity.
Zuko’s used to being thrown at any alpha his father needed an in with, and they were usually horrible old men who shared his ideals and sadistic power fantasies. He’s used to rough skin and rougher hands, men with grey hair at least twice his age. Not Sokka, who is actually one year younger than Zuko is, who is tall and broad and strong but who has only touched Zuko with gentle hands.
He knows how fast things can change, especially with the delegation from his home nation here to ensure good behavior from both sides, so he resolves to appreciate Sokka’s care while he has it, as much as is appropriate because Agni forbid Zuko actually enjoy himself.
Zuko eats quietly as Kanna and Katara have a quiet conversation beside him, diligently eating whatever Sokka adds to his plate and pretending he doesn’t notice how the alpha’s scent spikes with each bite, his own instincts sated with caring for the omega in his charge. Rather than be served, large platters are passed around the table for people to take what they want onto their own plates which, Zuko quickly realizes, are not safe spaces. Well, his and Uncle’s are, but Water Tribe members are casually swiping bites off each other's plates. Hakoda quietly steals something from Sokka’s plate and slides his own towards Bato, who is surely being conscious of Uncle between them but is probably used to having unfettered access to his partner’s food. Katara and Kanna, too, are sharing with each other, nudging certain pieces to the edge of their plate for the other to take.
It’s fascinating. Zuko can’t get over how connected everything feels, from the ice buildings outside to the easy way the tribe exists around each other, even with their head family present. There is no air of unease, no forced politeness or stiff formality, despite the occasion.
Plates empty and the room grows louder as people finish eating and begin settling into the celebration. Zuko figures the strange omega at the head table is of no concern when ale is flowing, and he’s hardly spared a glance — which, for the record, is fine by him. He’d rather observe, anyway, to get a better feel for what his life is about to become.
Their way of life had been more ‘primitive’, once, as explained by his tutors. The tribe had been made up of many small villages, many of which pooled together early in the war and hid behind walls of ice. The Fire Nation sent raiders for years to try and take the smaller villages or breach the primary tribe’s wall, but none had ever been successful and few even returned home.
Then, after nearly 85 years of war, Chief Hakoda had shown up, with his fleet of 70 ships filled to the brim with warriors in wolfhead helmets, and dashed those beliefs to the ground.
Grandsire had been blindsided and furious, and his mother kept him and Azula in her chambers for several days while the halls of the palace were hazy with smoke and fear.
Hakoda quickly proved their tribe to be a ruthless force made up of three parts tenacious non-benders, his own son among them, and one part elite waterbenders. Within five years, over two-thirds of the Fire Nation’s navy had been decimated, and the war was over just four years after that with much of his army joining the land force once the seas were under their control. Chief Hakoda himself had been in the room for Fire Lord Azulon’s initial surrender, but after the war the warriors went South again and disappeared back behind their wall.
Looking around, Zuko understands that they are far from primitive behind these walls. Things may be simpler, yes, with the lack of machines and the coal needed to run them without firebending, but still sophisticated. They had heard rumors, of course, from travelers who ran into traders, but they lived in such a remote place that no one ever really visited. Who in the Fire Nation wants to go somewhere the sun doesn’t shine for many lunar cycles?
Makes it the perfect place to get rid of Zuko. He wonders if his father had been planning this, if that’s why he put off so many proposals and kept him in the palace instead, or if it had been recommended by the Southern council and the pieces all fell together into his lap.
The large platters and plates with scraps are cleared away and Sokka stands again with a wide smile, gesturing towards Zuko’s side of the table.
“And now, my sister, Master Katara, and her students have a performance!” The room bursts into cheers and applause as the chief’s sister rises from her seat with a smile. Four others leave their tables and join her on the stage opposite the head table.
The demonstration is incredible. Zuko has never seen real waterbending before, and he’s entranced by it. It’s smoother than firebending, which makes sense when he really thinks about it. Fire is intense and dangerous, and the wielder must be firm and clean in their forms to maintain proper control. Water, though, is free and fluid whether it flows through streams or is guided through the air, so it only makes sense for their bending style to match. Each movement seamlessly flows into the next and the benders are light on their feet, moving along with the water they control.
The tribe is just as entranced with the demonstration as Zuko and his Uncle are. There’s applauding and cheering and whistling and Zuko can see how it makes the performers move with more confidence, though there was none lacking to begin with.
Raucous cheers echo as the performers bow and disperse back to their seats. Katara has a satisfied smirk on her lips as she nods her head in thanks to everyone congratulating her and her students.
Once everyone has returned to their seats, the feast devolves into a proper celebration like Zuko was expecting. If he thought the tribe had been enthusiastic during the demonstration, that’s nothing to now that people are getting up and moving. Children are taken to bed, drowsy against their parents’ shoulders, tucked close to ward off the cold as they venture outside for home.
People are drifting freely between tables now, friends gathering and draining their tankards and voices continue to rise, often broken by loud bursts of laughter.
Four elder tribespeople approach the table and Sokka lowers his head as they reach the platform.
“Prince Zuko, this is our Council of Elders. They, under my grandmother’s leadership, help make many important decisions for the tribe.”
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Zuko bows his own head. “You have a beautiful and strong home. I’m grateful to be part of it.”
“The Council currently consists of five members, so there is always a majority when voting. Alongside my grandmother, Kodiak, Kallik, Aassanaaq, and Ivalu have served the tribe with invaluable skill and strategy for many years.
The beta at the far end of the line with long white hair and a white beard braided with beads, the man introduced as Kodiak, steps forward. “Prince Zuko, We are pleased with the union and look forward to an era of peace and prosperity between our people.”
“We will all bear witness to the ceremony tomorrow and after, we look forward to meeting you personally and learning more about you, Your Highness,” an alpha who may not be much taller than Kanna, Aassanaaq, says with a genteel smile. “You are welcome here.”
“You have made a very strong show of unity. It has not gone unnoticed by this Council,” Ivalu says from the opposite end of the line, voice begrudgingly respectful. His hair has several elaborate braids in it and his parka is the most elaborate of the lineup.
Kallik, a beta with thick, severe lines inked on his neck, says nothing, just studies him with his arms crossed.
“We hope you enjoy your night,” Kodiak says when it becomes clear that Kallik won’t say anything.
The four elders bow their heads and leave, and Zuko lets out the breath he’d been holding once their backs are turned. That was quick and painless, but he knows that after the wedding, just like the alpha had said, longer conversations will have to happen to figure out just how Zuko will fit into their tribe, what his responsibilities will be as the husband of the chief.
Zuko wonders if Sokka realizes that he’s content in silence, not having says anything once the elders left, or if he’s just ignoring him, and he’s not sure which option he prefers. Sokka doesn’t move from his place, conversing quietly with his dad behind the rim of his tankard as he watches his people enjoy each other’s presence, singing songs and playing games. Bato and Uncle amble down the short staircase that separates the head table from the rest of the tribe and join a group of men who must be warriors by their builds and the way their hair is styled, in variations of the same tail as Sokka and Hakoda. Uncle takes a seat across from a man and props his elbow on the table. The man across from him does the same, grasping his uncle’s hand after a moment spent balking at his black fingers, and Bato sinks down beside Uncle to watch as someone else smacks the table and the two begin to wrestle.
Zuko exhales through his nose, biting down an eye roll, there’s Uncle, making a scene again and the delegation doesn’t look happy that one of their royals has joined the main floor. He meets Chen’s eyes, who is glowering at Zuko for some reason, like he has any control over his uncle. Like he’s had any control over anything since that Agni damned agreement got signed.
Zuko’s skin prickles, and he’s suddenly acutely aware of the chief’s attention on him. He looks over and sees that Sokka has tracked his gaze to the Fire Nation delegation as he takes a slow drink from his tankard. He cocks his head, and then his gaze returns to Zuko, who quickly looks down. Sokka sets his tankard down and leans towards Zuko, resting on his hand that he’s planted halfway between them.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” He asks quietly, and Zuko’s so startled by the question that he looks up and meets Sokka’s eyes again. The blue is still startling, bright and sharp as Sokka holds his gaze.
“No, thank you,” Zuko says after a moment. “I’m fine. Dinner was wonderful.”
“I know it’s quite different from what you’re used to.” Sokka tilts his head as he says it, watching Zuko closely.
"It's different, yes, but I liked it,” Zuko says, and he’s surprising himself again because he means it, “I appreciate your tribe sharing their meal with us.”
“Our tribe, tomorrow,” Sokka’s hand shifts over and he leans slightly closer to murmur, “if you need anything, let me know, okay?”
“I will,” Zuko offers the alpha a small smile.
Sokka doesn’t say anything else, just checks him over once more and then returns his attention to the room. He doesn’t linger in Zuko’s space and his scent doesn’t spike, but he seems to settle further, pheromones faint but pleased.
The room continues to grow louder. Zuko has been keeping track of Uncle’s progress, and he’s at a roughly even win-loss count, which is impressive given the sheer size of some of these warriors and the fact that they’re clearly in their prime while Uncle is… not. It doesn’t take long for Katara and Kanna to stand, Kanna taking Katara’s offered hand, and begin to say their goodnights. Sokka stands when he notices his grandmother and Zuko begins to move, intending to stand as well, but Kanna quickly stops him with a palm flat on his head. Zuko freezes, unsure, but something in her stern expression softens when their eyes meet. She nods her head. Zuko bows his back, then Kanna turns to her grandson, who smiles and pulls her into his arms.
“Thank you, Gran Gran,” Sokka whispers, kissing her temple. Hakoda stands and does the same, and Zuko watches these strong, powerful alphas going soft for their matriarch, who hugs them back just as fiercely. His father would never, and it’s almost dizzying to see this difference. Softness is weakness, connection is something to be exploited. And in front of the people who serve him?
When Zuko meets Katara’s gaze she’s studying him, too, but her expression is closed off and she quickly looks away, saying goodnight to her family and not sparing Zuko another glance as she leads Kanna from the room. They pause so that Bato can kiss both women’s temples, and Uncle bows to them, and then they leave.
Zuko feels oddly exposed, now, seated with Sokka at one side and no one at his other. Sokka is at his scarred side, from which Zuko can see shapes and shadows but nothing with detail, which does help, but it takes him a while to settle from the unease.
The night continues, and everyone continues to unwind with games and stories and songs. Five warriors break from the main room and approach the head table, extra drinks in their hands for Sokka and Hakoda, and they gather between the two chiefs with wide smiles and congratulations falling from their lips. Zuko nods in thanks, letting Sokka take the lead on the interaction, who laughs and thanks them and gladly takes the new tankard. There’s the occasional glance his way but Sokka’s scent is sharp, eyes narrow if anyone’s eyes linger too long.
Zuko takes advantage of Sokka’s joyful distraction with his men to really study him. He’s ruggedly handsome, exactly the kind of alpha Zuko would picture having grown up at sea and as part of a war fleet. With his hair pulled back, Zuko has a good view of the chief’s sharp jaw and strong nose, and he boasts the same smile as his father beside him. There’s a scar cutting through his right eyebrow, leaving a thin line where hair hasn’t grown back, and Zuko thinks he sees a dusting of freckles along his nose. With more of his neck exposed, Zuko sees more inky tendrils along his skin and, now that he’s lost his gloves, even more ink is visible along the backs of his hands, hidden from the wrist up by white leather forearm wrappings that cover his arms to the elbow.
A tight, dark blue shirt covers his arms, tucked underneath the wrappings, and he wears a light blue vest trimmed with white fur and secured with a brown leather belt, a knife hilt glinting where it’s still sheathed at his side.
Zuko is able to realize that his assumption was correct. Even without the parka, Sokka is large. This is a warrior, with rough hands and a scarred face that has seen battle, not like his grandsire who waged war from the safety of the palace.
It’s really late, now, if Zuko’s having to pull himself back under control because he got distracted by this alpha’s biceps. It’s very late, and it has been an incredibly long, stressful day, and Zuko rubs a hand over his face. The room is now about half full, primarily of drunk alphas who sing and yell over each other with passion and laughter, Uncle now in the center of the largest group as he entertains them with one of his many outlandish tales from his many travels. Most of the Fire Nation delegation have gone to bed, barring Chen and two other alphas, their dark red sticking out against the white and blue like an ugly bruise.
It’s not much later when Sokka shifts with intention again and leans close to Zuko, just enough to talk without raising his voice over the rest of the room, not enough to make him uncomfortable.
“Can I walk you to your room?” He asks quietly.
“Thank you, Chief.” Zuko nods and Sokka stands slowly, using the table. He lets out a small hiss that Zuko catches, and he tilts his head but Sokka doesn’t say anything about it, just offers his hand to the omega once he’s fully upright. Most everyone left is highly inebriated, Dragon of the West included, Agni help him, but Sokka is firm and steady, liquor only slightly dampening his own scent as he offers his arm to Zuko again. Hakoda stands briefly to bid him goodnight, Zuko bowing in return, and he nods his head at the rest of the group as Sokka promises to be back and leads him out the same exit Katara and Kanna had left through.
Sokka leads Zuko from the feasting hall through a series of hallways, then up a flight of stairs, and down another hall. Zuko imagines there are usually attendants floating through the palace, but they must all be in bed due to the late hour, if they’re not still celebrating.
“This will just be for tonight,” Sokka explains as they walk. “This is the guest wing, your uncle’s room is just next door and the rest of the delegation are one hall over. After the wedding, you’ll join us in the family wing.”
Right. Wedding. Zuko’s had a lot of practice keeping his scent under control, even without any blockers or patches, because princes are supposed to have self control and shouldn’t use their scent to tempt better alphas and don’t stink up the place with your emotions. It’s only that training he received since he presented that keeps his disinclination from Sokka, because now it’s all so real. It’s real, and tomorrow he’ll be married, claimed, mated, and for all Sokka’s continued kindness, the consummation is expected of him. And he’ll be Sokka’s omega, with no hope and no ground to stand on to refuse him.
“Of course,” Zuko says quietly.
There’s a tense silence for a moment, colder than it’s been between them since they met on the dock, as the alpha seems to be working himself up for something. Zuko, much used to waiting alphas out, don’t you dare rush me, walks in silence until Sokka sighs.
“Prince Zuko.”
“Chief?”
Sokka makes a face. “You don’t — you can just call me Sokka, please. We’re not so formal here.” He smiles wryly. “Everyone knows who I am.”
“Call me Zuko, then,” Zuko says. “It’s only fair.”
“Fair. Right.” Sokka sighs. “Zuko, I’d like to be honest with you, if I may.”
“Please.”
“I just don’t want…” Sokka pauses, tugging Zuko to a stop with his hold on his arm. Zuko turns to face him, tilting his head questioningly as their eyes meet. “I want to be a good husband to you.”
And that’s… not at all what Zuko was expecting. He blinks.
“I don’t mean to assume, but I’m sure this is something that was presented to you, not your own idea. It wasn’t mine either, but we’re both here because we’re trying to do the right thing. And I don’t want either of us to be miserable for the rest of our lives.”
Zuko blinks again, but he can feel Sokka’s earnestness, the softness in the pheromones floating around them in the hallway.
“I’m going to do my best to give you a good life here, I promise. I know we just met and you have no reason to believe what I’m saying, but it’s true. If we’re committing to this, I’m going to see it through.”
“I am, too,” Zuko finds his voice. “I’m here. I’m committing to you,” he says, even though the words are ash on his tongue and he feels sick with the thought. But he’s still a prince, even if the title is different now, and he still has a duty to his nation. Zuko may not be able to rule as an omega, but he wants to do what he can for his people, and if that means playing the part and letting the alpha do what he wants so that his people have access to new trading routes and supplies — because for all that the rich are wealthy the poor are certainly not, not after nearly a century of feeding armies sent to fight wars on foreign soil — he’ll do so gladly.
Sokka searches Zuko’s eyes, and Zuko is once again struck by how ruggedly attractive Sokka is, by his comforting pheromones and the warmth coming off his body in the cold hallway, and he wishes things were different.
“I’m committing to this,” Zuko says quietly. And then, because Sokka is still just looking at him, “I don’t want us to be miserable.”
With that, the tension that had gathered in Sokka’s shoulders as he talked to Zuko seems to flow off his back, and he offers Zuko a small smile.
“I think we can make this work,” Sokka murmurs, stepping closer to Zuko. Zuko has to tilt his chin up to meet Sokka’s eyes, and the alpha is open to him, eyes still cautious but his scent wraps around Zuko unguarded, deep and musky, and Zuko feels himself responding, as embarrassed as he is to realize it. But something about this alpha, the way he’s looking at him and the way he’s spoken to him, makes Zuko feel safe and reassured that Sokka means what he says.
He doesn’t trust his voice again, weak under the alpha’s attention, so he just nods and allows Sokka to continue their journey the final few steps to a door that Zuko assumes is his room for the night.
“I won’t claim you tomorrow.”
Zuko freezes and looks up at Sokka. “What?”
Sokka winces and brings a hand up to rub at his face. “That could’ve come out better.”
“Chief — Sokka —” Zuko is still frozen, this time it’s him pulling Sokka to a stop, just steps from the door. “Wait. What do you mean?”
“We don’t know each other, Zuko. We just met earlier today, and I won’t force either of us into anything.”
“But it, it won’t…” Zuko takes a breath. “It doesn’t count if you don’t.”
“Sure it does. Here, it does.”
“Not in the Fire Nation,” Zuko snaps, but he quickly pulls his arm out of Sokka’s elbow and steps back, crossing his arms tight over his chest, how could he speak to him like that. Sokka has been reasonable but Zuko can’t just lose his grip on his composure, he’s not actually safe here.
“We’re not in the Fire Nation,” Sokka says, unwaveringly patient. There’s no shift in his scent, nothing to indicate that he’s upset with Zuko’s words or the new distance between them. “So long as the marriage ceremony is performed to completion and I scent you, that’s enough.”
“But… I thought —”
“Do you want me to claim you?”
Zuko purses his lips and looks down. He never did master the art of lying like Azula.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s okay, Zuko.” Sokka’s voice is gentle. He folds both hands behind his back and then says, quietly, “will you look at me? Please?”
Zuko doesn't have the power to say no when faced with Sokka, with his scent and his ocean blue eyes, and Zuko feels the way he did in the meeting hall, sees that this softness is strength, too, the way Sokka is looking at him and adjusting his own tone based on Zuko’s reaction, not just expecting blind submission.
“I’m not going to claim you, and I’m not going to mate with you tomorrow.” There’s not an inch of Sokka that betrays his words as Zuko watches him closely for any shift. “I won’t so much as touch you unless you tell me to, I swear.”
And Zuko wants to believe him, he does. Everything he’s learned about Sokka so far lends to him being an alpha of his word, but Zuko’s been tricked before. Friends who only cared about him until they got in his bed during his heat, tutors who were safe until they weren’t, military alphas who swore up and down about the cruelty of the other nations only to appreciate omega tears in darkness, drunk off power and fear.
Something in his eyes must give him away, because Sokka’s gaze softens, and more of that guard goes down. “I know it’s hard to believe me right now, but I hope one day you’ll trust me.”
Zuko doesn’t really know what to say to that. Sokka clearly isn’t expecting a response, though, simply gestures to the door they stopped in front of.
“Your things have already been delivered. Attendants will be by in the morning to help you dress and prepare, and will explain a few of our marriage customs to you. There’s not too much expected of you, most everything is my family’s responsibility. We really just need you to show up,” he finishes with a casual shrug and a shy smile. “Would you like some water to wash with?”
Zuko remembers his earlier wish for a bath, imagines sinking into a tub and inhaling steam, and says “yes, please.”
His face must tell the whole story, because Sokka huffs out a soft laugh.
“Thank you, Sokka,” Zuko says. “For bringing me here, for…” he clears his throat. “Thank you.”
Sokka opens his mouth to respond but pauses, turning to look back down the way they came from. Zuko registers the footsteps then, and Sokka shifts closer to him and slightly over, placing himself between Zuko and the unknown person around the corner.
Chen turns down their hallway, and Zuko feels the inch of relief he felt after his conversation with Sokka vanish, shoulders tight again. Sokka gives him a concerned look when Zuko sighs.
“He’s been watching you.”
“He has,” Zuko says quietly. “He’s responsible for reporting back to my father.”
Chen stops several steps away from the two and bows low, his own black fingers hidden in the sleeves of his robe.
“Chief.” Sokka doesn’t say anything. “I wondered if I may have a word with His Highness?”
Sokka studies him for another breath, deceptively relaxed, but when Chen takes a step towards them he lets out a low growl, and both Zuko and Chen freeze at the sound. Sokka narrows his eyes at Chen, almost daring him to come closer, and then he turns back to Zuko, bending his head low.
“Do you want to talk to him?”
Zuko looks up at him and he knows that if he says no, Sokka won’t let Chen near him. That Sokka will make sure he gets into his room safely and then lead Chen away, either back to the hall or to his own room for the night. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does, because Sokka’s still just looking at him but his pheromones are sharp, keeping Chen at a distance.
Zuko glances over at Chen, sees his face, and hears himself say, “it’s alright, Chief.”
When he looks back at the alpha, a crease has appeared between his brows. He doesn’t correct the way Zuko addressed him, just murmurs, “you sure?”
Zuko nods. Sokka steps away from him, and Zuko immediately wants to pull him back. For all he doesn’t know about Sokka, he’s felt safer with him than he has with Chen, with any member of their delegation barring his uncle.
“Alright,” Sokka says, and straightens up. “I’ll see you tomorrow at sundown, Prince Zuko, and I’ll have water sent up for you.”
“Goodnight, Chief.” Zuko bows his head, and Sokka holds a hand out. Zuko places his own hand against his warm, calloused palm, and Sokka presses a feather light kiss to the back of his hand.
“Sleep well,” and Zuko’s wrapped once more in pine and fresh snowfall and warmth before Sokka turns and walks down the hallway.
“Goodnight, Chief,” Chen bows again as Sokka walks past him, who gives him a terse nod but otherwise hardly looks at him. He rounds the corner, and then Chen’s glaring at Zuko.
“Dogs,” he grumbles as he approaches Zuko, “the lot of them.”
He comes to a stop in front of the omega and studies him, lips downturned.
“That was not a promising conversation.”
Zuko feels like someone just dropped a bucket of ice water over him. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.” Chen takes another step towards Zuko, who steps back, but his back hits the wall and he has nowhere to go as the alpha looms over him.
“We are not here for you,” Chen says lowly, and Zuko wishes he could hide from his gaze, from the displeasure in his scent that he pushes at the omega. “What you want does not matter. The chief needs to claim you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Chen grabs Zuko’s wrist, whip-fast, and pushes against him so he’s flush against the ice, hard and cold behind him, with Chen holding his wrist to his chest with one hand and blocking his exit with the other. “If he doesn’t mate with you, this will all have been for nothing.”
“I know,” Zuko hisses, and he hates how his throat burns and his vision starts to blur. “I know. I heard you. I’ve heard you every day since the engagement agreement was signed.”
Chen doesn’t move, just tightens his hold on Zuko’s wrist. Zuko jerks against his hand, biting down a whimper, but it hurts.
“You must mate with the chief tomorrow,” Chen says sharply. His hand heats in warning and Zuko gasps, pulls against him.
“Don’t.”
“You will mate with him tomorrow,” Chen growls. “I must see a claim mark before we return home, as the Fire Lord commanded.”
“Fine,” Zuko whispers, “Chen —”
“It’s too bad there’s no witnessing of the consummation, here.” Chen sucks his lips against his teeth. “But you wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Zuko?”
“Let go of me,” Zuko breathes.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!”
Chen drops Zuko’s wrist and steps away, replacing his face with the carefully pleasant mask he wears to smile at the young attendant who stands shyly a few steps from them, eyes down and a filled bucket in each hand.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, sir, the chief requested water be sent up.”
There’s silence for a moment and then Chen looks at him, and Zuko realizes that she’s waiting for an answer from him.
“Thank you…”
The girl shifts her weight nervously. “Lirin, Your Highness.”
Zuko takes a slow breath and forces himself to smile. “Thank you, Lirin. Go ahead, I’ll be right in.”
The girl bows her head, still not raising her eyes, and she quickly slips into the room.
Chen fixes Zuko with a hard look before he can follow her.
“Do not forget your purpose here.”
“I’m not likely to,” Zuko hisses through gritted teeth. “Goodnight, Chen.”
He slips into the room and closes the door behind him, leaning against it and holding his breath until he hears Chen’s footsteps fade.
Lirin is still tending to the bath, as Zuko hears water sloshing coming through an open doorway. He glances around the room as he takes another step inside, still feeling a chill from the ice making up the walls and ceiling, but there’s a large wooden bed in the center of the room piled high with blankets and furs, and a large fur is placed underneath it as a rug. Both of Zuko’s trunks have been placed against the wall to his left, beside a larger chest of drawers, also wooden, that would be for Zuko to keep his things were he staying in this room longer. He only needs a few of his own things for tonight, though, and he pops the top of one trunk to confirm that everything he needs to wash has already been unpacked.
A brush and mirror rest on the chest of drawers, his sleep clothes are laid out smoothly on the bed, and his toiletries are missing, likely in the bathroom with Lirin. He walks through the small open doorway into a small bathroom where Lirin is pouring a scented oil into the dark wooden bathtub, half-filled with water, his own soap and bath oils on a small table within reach. Before he can say anything, there’s a knock at the door, and another attendant a bit older than Lirin joins them with enough water to finish filling the tub.
It’s a small room, just large enough to fit the tub comfortably with a curtain in the corner where he could relieve himself. It’s a bit crowded with both attendants and Zuko inside, so he steps back as they finish preparing the tub, going back to pull a small bag out of one of his trunks, where he places the gold hairpiece keeping his topknot in place so he can shake his hair out.
The tasteful wispies left out of the style are buried as the rest of Zuko’s long, black hair tumbles around his shoulders and he sighs, scratching at his scalp. Zuko feels the choker tighten around his neck as he shakes his hair out and carefully removes it, too, laying it on the chest with the pendant neatly on top of the ribbon.
A throat clears, and Zuko turns to see the unnamed attendant bowing at him and leaving the room. Lirin remains for a moment, asking if Zuko needs anything else, but all he really wants now is to be left alone so he quickly ushers her out after thanking her for the bath.
The bathroom is cold and the water is, too, but it steams around Zuko as he sinks into it with a sigh. He heats the water a bit more, until his skin is pink and hot to even his touch, and then he lets himself sink under the surface.
He stays under until his vision starts going black at the edges and bursts up, sending waves of water rushing over the edge as he pushes wet hair out of his face and pants, chest heaving.
His duty. Zuko knows his duty, has been reminded of it every day since he presented and his father spared his life. First a near non-bender, and then an omega. The insult was almost too much for him to bear, and it was his uncle who had thrown himself at his brother’s feet, begging for Zuko’s life, reminding his brother how useful omegas with royal blood can be. Zuko knows he owes his uncle his life, owes him much for all he did in the weeks following the burn, but he can’t help but feel like in saving him, his uncle merely stayed his execution.
There are omegas in worse places, his father is always quick to remind him at the first sign of hesitation. Omegas who live in brothels, forced to service alphas at all hours of the day with no breaks, no time to heal. Omegas who fall into their heat with none to protect them, who are taken in alleyways by alphas they don’t remember the faces of after only to be left pregnant and alone. Omegas sold into slavery, forced to work for their food and helpless to escape, to fight their larger, stronger masters off. Zuko is lucky to be married off to an alpha with a name and reputation, no matter how his father’s court views the Southern Water Tribe. Chen’s dog was mild compared to the things Zuko has heard from his father’s own mouth.
He’s lucky, Zuko reminds himself as he slips back under the water again, long hair wrapping around his neck like a noose, even if he’s seeing more similarities than differences between himself and the omegas who have it worse.