The Dragon Princess {𝖠𝖳𝖫𝖠}

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘪'𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦

     
🔥Miozomi's POV🔥

Chapter: 1 Epi: 4

"I thought after the temple would be a blast, smooth flying from there, well guess what guys, I was so wrong."

"You have no clue on where we're going, do you?" Sokka asks the young avatar.

The question floats back through the wind, dry as the air we're cutting through. The sun reflects off the ocean below, all silver and calm.

"We've been flying for a while now," I mutter under my breath, half to myself. "Over the clear blue sky and water..."

It really is beautiful. But knowing Aang, we're probably lost again.

"Well, I know it's near water," Aang replies, shyly.

I let out a small laugh, before catching myself, the sound brief and uninvited.

My hands move back to what I'd been doing — helping Katara patch Sokka's clothes.

Sokka's currently sulking at the far end of the saddle, wearing only his undershirt and a pair of boxers that have seen better days.

His knees are pulled up, his pride is hanging by a thread, and Katara's trying her hardest not to say I told you so.

"Thanks again for doing this, Zomi." Katara's voice is quiet, soft enough that it feels private.

I give her a quick nod, eyes still down. "No problem," I whisper.

I focus on the cloth in my hands; it's easier to deal with fabric than with gratitude.

The thread pulls, tangles, snaps. Katara winces.

I take the needle from her fingers without thinking. "Let me." She hesitates, then lets me.

From the corner of my eye, I see her watching me — not just what I'm doing, but how I'm doing it.

Her expression softens, quiet and fond, as i keep my focus sharp on the seam, pretending not to notice.

Sokka clears his throat dramatically, trying to look offended and dignified while half-dressed. "You know," he mutters, "a great warrior shouldn't have to wait this long for pants."

"You tear them this often, you should've learned to sew," I say, eyes still on the needle.

He makes a face but doesn't argue. Katara stifles a laugh.

"I guess we're getting close then," Sokka says sarcastically, sinking back into his seat and picking up his map again.

I shake my head once, quiet disapproval, and glance toward Katara.

She's smiling faintly. The kind of smile that assumes you'll grow into your place among people.

"Momo marbled please!" Aang calls out from the saddle's edge, waving one hand dramatically in the air.

I hum in response, still concentrating on the hemline. I can feel the pull of his gaze — the expectant silence of someone waiting to be noticed.

"Hey, Zo! Check this cool trick I just learnt!"

I don't look up. The wind shifts around us, a ripple of air that I can tell he's bending on purpose. "Mmm, that's great, Aang."

The words come out flatter than I meant, a thin line of indifference. I wince internally. He doesn't deserve that.

"You didn't even look," he says, the words dropping smaller than his usual voice.

I exhale, set the cloth down, and lift my head. "That's great," I repeat, softer this time, forcing a smile that feels almost real.