#lok fanfic

Tbh I’ve never written fanfiction before but wanted to try some in-universe stuff as a writing exercise. Had a lot of fun and will likely continue on my own, but am curious if there’s interest for this kind of thing here? If people would want to read it? My suspicion is it’s not really the kind of thing folks would be into, but maybe I’m wrong! So be gentle I guess but figured I’d put out a little trial piece. If you’d read more of this, I’d love to hear from you!

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The first morning, Kuyon awoke a full hour before dawn. It was the heat that did it, he thought – but then again, it could have just been the change in surroundings. Time off the water always took some getting used to. His first sea voyage as a child was fraught with sickness and insomnia, even though his mother had done everything she could to make him comfortable during the long journey south. The fear of the ocean itself was still present then – strong in him – and he worried that if he dozed off at the wrong moment, the ship would be swallowed up in his sleep. Years later, when he took his first post on a ship, it took him three months to finally get comfortable with the constant, quiet movement.

Now, it was the opposite. Being on land was what gave him restless nights. But it certainly didn’t help that the Fire Nation was also about as hot as the name suggested, even before summer had begun. It wasn’t just the heat either. It was the weight of the air, the dampness. So different from either of the homes Kuyon had known. As a child, it had baffled him how a city built on ice could be so very, very dry. And when he heard the stories of masters pulling water from the air itself, he’d been so excited to try – only to discover that in the heart of the Water Tribe, there was nothing in the air to bend. Maybe that was why the technique was only mentioned in distant rumors – something waterbenders did in foreign places.

Kuyon had unintentionally become that waterbender. Of course, this particular visit wasn’t his first to the Fire Nation, but every other time he’d only seen the ports, and he’d had the welcoming belly of the ship to fall asleep in. Besides, Ember Island didn’t feel like those places. For all the blackened, rocky shorelines and volcanic landscape that was the nation’s signature, he somehow expected the beach would not have sand. A rock beach would have been more fitting, but the stones on the island were smooth – nothing like the jagged rocks he’d seen elsewhere. And for all the explosions that had created the surrounding islands thousands of years ago, Ember Island felt serene. Despite the fact that it was a resort, Kuyon hadn’t actually expected it to feel peaceful. He didn’t think the Fire Nation could have peaceful places.

Unable to fall back to sleep, he got dressed in the dark and walk out to the beach. It was still black out, but there was enough starlight to see the way down to the water. The moon was barely there – just a sliver of a thing in the sky – and that too might have contributed to the restlessness he felt.

It wasn’t that he felt weak when it was waning. It was a latent thing – a scar of fear left over from when he was eight and saw the full moon in the sky go dark. From his window, he could see the warriors’ water fall, limp and useless, and he was sure at that moment that he was going to die. Even at such a young age, it had been instilled in him that men of the Northern Water Tribe did not run from a fight. But when the sky went red with the blood of the spirit – as the story would later be told – he saw the men if his tribe flee in panic. Every month since then, a part of him still feared that when that sliver vanished, it would not come back; that the sacrifice the chief’s daughter had made would wear out somehow.

At the water’s edge, Kuyon sat down in the sand and felt the edge of the tide wash over his toes. With his left hand, he gently pulled with its ebb and flow, barely bending it, just following the water’s lead. The breathing exercise had always calmed him, especially during his early days in the South Pole. At the time, his mother told him they were going to rebuild their sister tribe. Years later, he realized that most of the northerners who joined Master Pakku’s expedition were really looking to rebuild themselves. They had either lost someone in the siege, or were exhausted of hiding behind the city walls, waiting for the war to end. A whole generation had lived and died while the North was frightened to sail too far from home, and when reports started coming of what had been done to the benders in the Southern Tribe, an even greater fear set in.

In those early days in the south, his mother would take him down to where the ice became water and show him how to breathe into the tide. The same night he saw the moon go dark, Kuyon saw the great spirit rise from the waters of the city and wash the invaders out. It had taken weeks to sort through the wreckage left by the decimated navy, and though the spirit had saved them all, it had frightened him too. In the whole voyage south, he’d never spoken to the Avatar. Part of him had wanted to of course. At eight and twelve, the two weren’t so far apart in age. But despite his quiet demeanor on the ship, Kuyon was afraid of the airbender, for the same reason that for that whole journey he was afraid of the sea beneath him. That thing those two had become together – the boy with the tattoos and the spirit of the ocean – had both saved him and terrified him on the night the moon was killed. Pushing and pulling the tides with his mother, he remembered that the ocean could be peaceful too.

Even the water was different in the Fire nation though. The waves that splashed up on the sands of Ember Island were frothy and white; nothing like the perfect blue of the northern waters, or the icy stillness of the south. Once, after word had come that Ba Sing Se had fallen, he’d asked his mother why the Ocean Spirit didn’t simply appear on the shores of the Fire Nation as it had during the siege of the north. “It could wash away the whole army,’ he’d said, almost pleading with her, “like how it washed away the ships. Why doesn’t it?” Of course he knew vaguely that the spirits didn’t work that way, but his mother didn’t tell him that at the time. Instead she just sat beside him and put her arm around his shoulders, and said “I don’t know, Ku. I don’t know.”

Feeling the pulse of the Fire Nation’s ocean, Kuyon watched as the bottom of the sky began to bloom with pink, then orange, then yellow light. He focused his gaze on the water’s surface out by the horizon, in search of the thing that had brought him there, but with no luck. It would still be a few days before the migration passed by. Until then, he’d have to get used to sleeping in the heat.

Some members of the Water Tribes had developed a scorn for sunrise over the course of the war. Kuyon had never understood that. It was a beautiful thing, still.

The sky alight with early morning, he pushed himself up off the sand and began to walk down the beach, toward the town square that lay inland a ways further along the shore. There was no one else in sight as he went. Kuyon wondered if Ember Island’s stream of wealthy vacationing Fire Nation aristocrats had slowed in the past decade; if the shadow that had loomed over the country for the last fourteen years in the wake of its defeat extended even to the tourist industry. The families who owned homes here had taken major hits in reputation to be sure, but their fortunes likely suffered as well. He’d heard that the new Fire Lord had ousted most of Ozai’s true loyalists from the inner workings of government, but he doubted those expulsions meant any real severity for families with so much ancient wealth and power.

Strolling up the beach and through one of the town’s winding footpaths, Kuyon came eventually to a small plaza. Shops and restaurants lined the perimeter of the square, but almost all were still closed. Only one tea shop seemed to be awake at such an early hour. Inside, Kuyon found a tidy arrangement of wooden tables, and a small counter at the back. A woman, maybe ten years his senior, was wiping down one of the tabletops when she glanced up and saw him standing in the doorway. She squinted at him, straightened, and tucked the rag into the front of her apron.

“Would you like a table?”

“If you’re open.”

“Just the one of you?”

“Yes.”

She gestured from one wall to the other with an open hand.

“Wherever you like. What are you drinking?”

“What do people usually get?”

She walked behind the counter, pulled a set of spark rocks from a drawer he couldn’t see, and started a pot of water boiling.

“Our ginseng is the most popular.”

“I’ll have that then.”

She nodded and set to work. It was terribly quiet, despite the faint breeze that made its way off the water, through the plaza and into the room.

“Is this your shop?”

“Me? No. My uncle owns it. And I should warn you he only takes Fire Nation money.”

“I can pay.”

“I guess so if you’re staying around here. You a tourist?”

“I’m a fisherman.”

“Are you on vacation?” she asked, leaning over the counter toward him. Her hair was black like his, about as long, but worn up in the Fire Nation style. Her face was hard, but Kuyon couldn’t tell if it was because of his clothing or something else entirely.

“I guess,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to see the tiger dolphin migration. It only happens every four years, and they should be coming right by here in the next few days.”

“They got you in a shack down there?”

“It’s all I could afford. My ship’s in port at Hing Wa Island for the week, so I managed to get a little time away.”

“You should have stayed with them. Hing Wa is gorgeous this time of year. It’s ash banana season.”

“That’s why they’re there. My captain’s hoping to turn over our recent hauls for as much of the harvest as he can. They’re becoming something of a delicacy in the Earth Kingdom.”

She came out from behind the counter carrying a tray, the teapot and two small porcelain cups arranged on it, and set it down on the table in front of him. Steam rose from the neck of the pot. Without a word, she sat down in the chair across from him.

“Let it sit for another minute,” she said. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Please.”

“It’s just that I’ve never met a member of the Water Tribe before.”

Kuyon feigned shock, glancing down at his blue tunic, the blue rings on his fingers, the blue armband with the Tribe’s sigil.

“How did you know I was Water Tribe?”

She laughed.

“Which Tribe?”

“Both. I was born in the north, but we moved south when I was eight.”

“When you were eight.”

“After,” he said. “After the siege.”

She nodded, her arms crossed on the table before her, staring straight at the teapot and the steam rising between them.

“My husband was a technician on the Ilah’s Pride. It was one of the first ship’s to make contact with the wall. At least, that’s they told me.”

Kuyon looked at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She picked up the teapot and poured them each a cup, but he hesitated to take his, suddenly tense and wary. Then she took a sip from her own and laughed again – a sharp, barking laughter.

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you were thinking. I’m not a hateful person, really. And that whole naval crusade was an absurd vanity project to begin with.”

“Still,” he said, “I’m sorry. I saw what happened to those lead ships. It terrified me as a kid.”

“Yes, well, that’s what we get I suppose. Wei Ko should have known better than to join the navy. But that’s where all the advancement was in those days. He thought we needed the money. And why am I telling you all this?”

“I don’t know. You haven’t even told me your name.”

“Sung.”

“I’m Kuyon.”

“Well, I’d keep your head down while you wait for your dolphins, Kuyon. There’s a lot of naval heritage on Ember Island, and most folks won’t be as accepting of those Water Tribe colors as I am.”