𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ꩜ prince zuko

¹⁷

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

        SOKKA, YAN, AND ZUKO sat in silence as the hot air balloon drifted steadily toward the Boiling Rock prison, Zuko tending the fire to maintain their altitude. Beside him, Sokka and Yan sat shoulder to shoulder, their gazes fixed on the passing clouds as they were lost in their thoughts. The quiet was heavy and felt like more than just a lack of words; despite their recent alliance, the three hadn't yet settled into true camaraderie. Yan, in particular, still wrestled with lingering distrust toward Zuko and the fragile bond among them felt stretched thin by unspoken doubts and past tensions.

        "You know, a friend of mine actually designed these war balloons. A balloon... but for war." Sokka spoke awkwardly, his voice breaking the silence like a misplaced note. Yan gave a slow nod in response, her eyes never leaving the drifting clouds.

        "If there's one thing my dad is good at, it's war. Though not everyone in my family is like that, so curb that thought that's about to come out of your mouth. My uncle was more of a father to me... and I really let him down." Zuko let out a quiet sigh as he stoked the fire, his thoughts drifting to his uncle. Ever since the prison break, one main question had haunted him: where could Iroh have gone?

        "I think your uncle would be proud of you. Leaving your home to come help us, that's hard. Did you leave behind anyone you cared about?" Sokka asked, trying to keep the conversation alive. Zuko offered a small smile before bringing up his ex-girlfriend Mai, a girl with a dark demeanor that — strangely enough — he'd always admired. When Sokka casually mentioned that his first girlfriend had turned into the moon, Yan's curiosity was instantly piqued. After a brief chuckle, the conversation trailed off, settling once more into an uneasy silence.

        Night had fallen, and Sokka was already fast asleep, his soft snores the only sound in the war balloon. Yan and Zuko remained awake, sitting apart but aware of each other in the stillness; neither was quite sure how to bridge the silence. Zuko fidgeted with his fingers, the firelight casting flickering shadows across his face. "I know this probably isn't what you want to hear, and I get that you still don't trust me," he began. "But I wanted to apologize — again — for what I did to you. Betraying you like that... it was wrong; I see that now. I'm not asking for forgiveness today, tomorrow, or even anytime soon; I just hope that maybe someday, you'll be able to."

        Yan listened quietly; there was no defensiveness in his tone, no excuses, just regret. She didn't say anything right away, but the sincerity in his voice settled something inside her. After a moment, she gave a slow nod. It would take time — probably a long time — but for the first time, it felt like they were finally beginning to understand each other.

        Zuko stood at her side, looking down at the earth until he spotted it. "There it is," he said, his raised voice rousing Sokka from sleep. Blinking the drowsiness from his eyes, Sokka scrambled over and peered over Yan's shoulder as he spotted what had caught their attention: the war balloon was drifting steadily toward a steaming volcano in the distance. "There's plenty of steam to keep us covered. As long as we're quiet, we should be able to navigate through it without being caught."

       Zuko flung open the furnace door and blasted fire into it, urging the war balloon to rise as it drifted into the thick steam surrounding the volcano. Despite his efforts, the balloon began to dip, its altitude dropping precariously as they neared the bubbling lake of scalding water in the caldera below. The balloon sputtered and groaned before finally giving out, forcing the trio to leap; they tumbled onto the rocky shore of the prison island, gasping for breath as their now-useless transport crashed behind them.

        "Oh, perfect. How the hell are we supposed to get off this death trap of an island now that our balloon's toast?" Yan groaned, rubbing the back of her head where she'd landed hard after the fall.