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The Price of Peace	By : Looneyluna Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Het - Male/Female > Katara/Zuko Views: 19137 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Interlude Twenty-five—

Clutching Appa’s fur, Toph cooed into the gentle beast’s ear. At least, she thought it was his ear. “Take good care of Twinkle Toes and Meng, Appa. Make sure he stops for lots of hay for you. If you have to poop or pee, make sure you land before doing so. I can only imagine being on the ground as you flew over. I’m sure air bison poop is not a pleasant thing to be hit with.”

“Are you done giving Appa advice?” Aang asked, his voice slightly muffled through the scarf around his neck. Autumn was fading into winter, and the winds were growing colder.

“I think it’s very good advice,” Meng, Aang’s significant other, chipped in.

Toph snorted. She genuinely like Meng and hoped that her influence on the fifteen-year-old had paid off. Aang deserved a little aggravation in his life. “Thank you, Meng. Be sure to bundle up and stay warm. Don’t let Aang fly until you freeze. I remember—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Aang interjected, grabbing the air bison’s reigns. “Don’t let her scare you, Meng. She’s just mad I won’t tell her what Sokka is up to.”

“I know what Sokka’s up to,” retorted Toph, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “He’s up to no good. Whatever you helped him build looks like a big inverted bowl from where I stand. Remind me again. Why isn’t he going back with you?”

Meng giggled, and Aang cleared his throat nervously. “He’s…uh… got something to… uh… take care of.”

“More like someone,” Meng chortled.

Wrapping his arm around Meng’s shoulders, Aang covered her mouth with his hand. “Well, we should be going. Appa, yip yip!”

The air bison stepped away from the blind Earthbender before taking flight with a parting growl. Toph arched her neck and listened for the displaced wind. “Fly low to keep warm! Stay safe! Send word once you get there!” she shouted.

“Don’t worry!” Aang’s voice grew fainter. “We will! Be honest…yourself! Sokka… you!”

“What!”

It was no use. The wind had carried Aang’s voice away. Only the sounds of the household activities reached her sensitive hearing. The kitchen staff was preparing the evening meal. The gardener was leaving for the night. The other servants scurried around the house, lighting lanterns and preparing beds for the “crazy” master and his “unlucky” daughter. They weren’t being malicious or spiteful when they whispered about her father. Most of the staff were genuinely concerned for him.

Toph dug her toes into the sand, blocking out the sounds of the household and concentrating on the sound of chirping crickets instead. It was only with the crickets that she found peace. They were her companions now, their song filling the gap that had consumed her once she had returned to her gilded cage.

At least, she tried to listen to the crickets.

The sound of Sokka’s flute was drowning out the other sounds. The chords of his song floated out of his inverted bowl home and drifted on the breeze, along with the scent of food. Irritated over the interruption of her introspection, Toph stomped through the garden. When she reached the upside-down bowl, she wrapped her knuckles on the hard earthen bricks.

“You wanna keep it down in there!” she commanded, feeling slightly guilty for her treatment of him. The melody he was playing stopped, and she felt the loss of the music keenly.

It was her flute. He’d given it to her for her eighteenth birthday. He’d tried to teach her to play, but she’d grown frustrated with the lessons and threw it back at him. Earthbending she could handle. Music wasn’t her cup of tea. She scowled. Sokka’s flute playing had stopped. She should be happy.

Feeling her way along the curve of his bowl home, Toph found the entrance and crawled through the tunnel. For a bowl, it was quite warm and roomy.

Sokka watched as Toph crawled through the tunnel and circled the inner perimeter of the igloo Aang had helped him build. He owed Aang more than he could ever repay. Aang had fashioned the blocks of earth he had needed to construct his home—a condition set by Toph’s father.

Realizing Lao Bei Fong was having one of his more lucid moments, Sokka asked for Toph’s hand in marriage.

Lao chuckled, eying the Water Tribe warrior with a keen eye. “I shall grant you my permission upon the following conditions: You must provide your own shelter and food. If my daughter will have you, and you are able to provide her with shelter and food, then you will have my blessing.”

Lao’s temporary mirth turned back into madness after that, and the once-proud man groveled at Sokka’s feet. “Please! You must protect her!”

In a way, Sokka felt like a fraud. He felt as though he had taken advantage of Toph’s father. The man was obviously in no condition to make an informed decision.

He watched her with hungry eyes; unable to forget the kisses they had shared. Out of respect for Earth Kingdom traditions, he had waited for her to come of age.

Toph had come of age several months ago, but Katara and Zuko’s difficulties had impeded his pursuit of the blind Earthbender. Now, Toph was in his domain. He had selected the ribbon, a pale green silk, for her betrothal necklace. He had spent months planning the design for the ivory, carefully carving the traditions of his tribe into it, along with Earth Kingdom symbols.

Palming the silk and ivory, he continued to watch her.

Running her palms along the seamless earth, Toph admired the smooth texture of the walls. “I’ve never seen a house like this,” she said, her tone one of reverent awe. “It’s a dome, supported by its own weight. I’m amazed it doesn’t fall on your head.”

“It’s an igloo,” Sokka informed her. “They are normally made of ice where I am from, but the ice would melt here. Aang carved the stones to my specifications. I placed them. What do you think?”

Toph scowled and turned toward the sound of his voice. “I think you’re nuts. Why did you build an igloo in the middle of the garden?”

Sokka stood. She felt the vibrations along the ground and walls. She wished she could close her “eyes.” Ever since she’d revealed that she actually saw people as the Goddess intended, she really did “see” him naked.

He stooped over the fire and scooped something from an iron kettle that hung above it.

“Would you like some stew?” he asked, walking toward her and holding out a bowl. The movement outlined his lithe physique, causing a guilty blush to crawl up her neck and into her cheeks.

“Uh,” she stammered, backing away. “No thanks. I should be going. I have to… to…”

“Go back to your mansion and be alone?” he interjected, his tone soft and low.

Goddess, when had his voiced changed? “I won’t be alone. The servants are—”

“Servants,” he said, setting the bowl down and moving toward her. “They aren’t your friends.”

“So.” She gulped and took a step backwards, molding herself against the warm bricks. “What does that have to do with anything? And I have my father.”

“Do you?” he asked.

The instinct to flee thrummed through her veins. She felt as though she were being stalked. How had she let him get as close as he was now? “Of course I have him. He’s crazy. Not dead.”

Sokka braced an arm against the wall. “He has lucid moments.”

For once in her life, she was at a loss for words. Her senses, deprived of sight, had overcompensated. Sokka was too close for comfort, the outline of his body leaving nothing to her imagination. The vibrations he sent her way were bizarre and heady. She couldn’t stop “looking” if she wanted to. The timber of his voice held a somewhat magical quality, as if he were trying to communicate with her by another means. His scent overpowered the aroma of the stew. It was a fresh scent, as though he’d recently bathed.

“I spoke with him during one of his more lucid moments.” His breath caressed her long bangs and whispered along her cheek. “Wanna know who we talked about?” He touched her stubborn chin.

“Uh… not really,” she stammered, inwardly cringing. She should knock him on his ass, not lean into him.

Sokka pulled something out of what she assumed was his pocket and grasped her hand in his. “We discussed…” He placed something in her hand, the texture silky and cool. “…You.”

Toph concentrated on the carving. It felt like the same material that her flute was made of. There were curvy lines, swirling into a pattern that followed the natural grain of whatever she was holding. “What is it?”

Heat radiated from his body. Or was that hers? His lips brushed against her forehead. “It’s a betrothal necklace.” He gathered it from her hands and looped it around her neck, tying it with shaky fingers. “Will you marry me?”

--

TBC

Author’s Notes: Insert evil cliff-hanging cackle here. I love cliffhangers. If you wish to stop my dastardly habit of cliffhangers, leave a review (wink, wink).
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The Price of Peace