"No more - no more – no more"
Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sand upon the shores]]
. . .
The boy in front of Yue hardly looks only at the hollow of her throat, like she's a prize, like she's a possession, like her shoulders were made to step on and she smiles sweetly, proudly. She has seen him before, heard of him too. She even had the privilege to have spoken to him before her father had told her of their engagement. Hahn, that will be the name of her beloved, of her husband, of the man beside her on the throne, of the shadow she will live in.
He closes the necklace around her neck and then she is his. She makes sure to smile brightly as she faces her people, the loud cheering and applause almost drowning the sound of her golden cage sliding shut, shut, shut.
. . .
He does not talk to her much after this. A man has a job to do and a girl is not be entertained, only to be entertaining. A girl is to be seen, not heard.
She thought the heavy weight of bone on skin would make her a woman. She thought it would be different then, a boy is so different from a man, but a girl hardly differs from a woman at all.
She thought it would feel suffocating or liberating, the noose around her neck so beautifully crafted, so openly worn, but there is nothing but the slow drifting of her world, of time, the steady slow song of her heart and the moon fading into blackness and struggling its way back to wholeness.
. . .
Her maid combs her hair with a practiced, familiar speed, telling her stories, talking over the sound of the heavy silence in Yue's mind. She loves her stories, about knights and spirits and princes, about true love kisses and awaking from slumber.
Yue touches the cold bone of her necklace, feels the weight of it in the hollow of her throat, the cold seeping through her the way the ice never did.
Her lips are so heavy lately, she can barely turn them up again. She can see her reflection in the ice, sees herself as her maid sees her, as the people on the street might. She looks at her hair, white as snow, immaculately draping over her shoulders. She looks at her lips, not smiling at all, painted a lovely red. She looks as if it is someone else she's seeing, judging if she's ready to go outside like this, if everything is perfect enough. It isn't. She looks entirely too cold, the sadness in her eyes too pronounced. She admonished herself silently. She should be better than this. She closes her eyes for a second, dragging out the process of blinking, then looks again and makes sure to study the twinkle in her eyes.
Yes. Much better.
She does not say, the stories aren't true. She does not say they can't be.
The princess never falls in love in real life. Love is not a luxury they can afford.
. . .
The moon is full tonight and Yue cannot sleep during such nights, something inside of her too alive. There swirls a light inside her, dancing through her veins. The light of the moon washes over her and it always makes her feel at home, like she is where she belongs, like hiding from it is a sin.
Her father tells her she has been given a great gift, that her life is a true miracle, so she wonders, sometimes silently under the distant moonlight, why she should waste away in the shadow when the light gives her so much more strength.
She knows Hahn is a good choice. She knows that he is raised in nobility and will treat her well. He is never mean to her, though her never quite looks at her and speaks in the way many boys speak: like nothing he says can ever be wrong, like she should be impressed by his very existence. But she trusts her father judgement, she knows Hahn has much to offer her in return for her smiles, her presence at his side, his initiation in her bloodline. He will grow to be a good leader of her people. A leader who will bring her people stability in these trying times. She will make sure of it, will guide him as she is supposed to. Be the light that shines upon them, grace and serenity, make his hard choices a thing of beauty.
She is a Princess and she knows this very well: her choices are not her own. Her life is not her own. She does not have the luxury of selfishness. She has a chance to ease the pain, even if it is just slightly.
She thinks of the mothers and their unborn children, she thinks of the fathers praying they will not have to fight a war. She thinks of the girls with their hearts stuttering in their chest at fleeting smiles. She thinks of the boys with arms shaking in the empty air, hands open, waiting to feel the warmth of another palm.
She thinks of her people, of every living soul breathing on the ice her palace stands on.
The moon is full tonight. A light swirls inside her.
She is a Princess and she knows this: she can bring her people peace. It is her duty.
And for that, she'd sacrifice everything.
. . .
So what exactly has this boy of the South, with no penny to his name, no distinctive skills to speak of and no family connections, to offer her, Princess Yue of the North, firstborn and only child of Chief Arnook, heir to the throne, to the land that reaches into eternity?
Nothing, it seems, except for a laugh that echoes in the bounce of her steps for days.
. . .
He pulls her in like a tide, blue eyes like a fissure in the ice, a crack in her foundations, a glimpse of what is beyond the thick walls of the world she has confined herself in.
He pulls her in like breathing, a force so gentle but unstoppable, no beginning and no end, like there was never any option but this, never any other way her path could lead, no other destination at all, as if all her dreamless nights woke her to him.
He pulls her in with a hand open and offered to her, endlessly patient under the moonlight, warm embrace unlike any fire, like a blanket on the darkest night, like the water in her dreams, the safety of her city walls.
He pulls her in with a smile, brighter than the sunlight reflecting on the ice, blinding her, driving her mad, like she should look away, but she can't.
. . .
She pushes him away like the moon, too much aware of how much is at stake. Her choices are never her own. She was perfectly fine in her non-existence. She was never meant to walk to ice, only to be it's pillar. She was never meant to shine, only to reflect it.
She pushes him away like an exhale, purging him from her thoughts, her heart, her body, only to, always and inevitably, breathe him in again, feeling him seep through the walls she builds, the barriers she tries to construct, feel him in the back of her mind, a ghost-touch on her skin, a phantom kiss on her lips, the name forever on the tip of her tongue.
She pushes him away with all the force she can manage, her arms never meant to fight, never meant to struggle, never meant to hurt.
She pushes him away with the weight of her, the weight of her life, the necklace around her neck, her promises and her duties, the anger she never felt before, the desperation of her heart wanting to crawl out of her throat and nestle beside his.
. . .
She thinks, I was giving life for a reason, and she thinks he might be just that. She thinks she can be someone else, not harbor, but the ship coming home, not the watchtower but the adventurer, not the moon but the wild wild free ocean.
She thinks maybe love will conquer all, she thinks of the airbending boy making the water shift to his wishes, she thinks, maybe stories are true, maybe there is a happy ending in sight for everything.
She thinks of Master Pakku teaching a girl, she thinks of fighting, of protecting. She thinks maybe father will understand.
She thinks her world is not as it once was. She thinks she is not as she once was. Change is approaching, she can feel it swirling through her blood.
She thinks of blue eyes with the light of a hundred nations in it, looking right at her, the small light in them when he listens to her, the melody of his voice as he asks about her life, as if she is the one who has a story to tell, as if she is the legend, as if she is the one who will amount to anything. She thinks of laughter bubbling in her throat, the way it takes so much darkness with it, the way it makes her feel light.
She thinks she wants to be the girl he sees when he looks at her, not the one reflected in hollowly worshiping eyes.
She thinks he has the softest lips and the warmest hands.
. . .
They are close to touching, but they don't. That is the distance between them, between an almost Queen and a not quite a leader-boy, that is the distance between a hollow girl and a shaper of history. Such is the distance between the ocean and the moon, between the earth and the light.
There is nothing left to say after her words echoed hollowly over the ice, carried by blizzard winds. There is nothing left for them, everything Yue has is already taken, she has already given her best away to strangers, she has already been torn apart for her value.
She feels the vastness of the universe around them, soaring through the air on the back of a fable beast, with a boy she dreamt of but never thought she'd meet. She feels the distance between them expanding like a galaxy, feels the weight of it crashing down on her, who they could be and who they are.
He leans back and doesn't kiss her.
She does not ask him if he regrets having to leave and he does not ask her if she regret having to stay.
. . .
He never stops smiling at her, even when the edges of his lips tremble, even when it's strained, even when it hurts.
She returns to him as the sun sets, reflects the light in his eyes. She returns to him, always, despite it all, because of it all.
She thinks he understands, what it's like to carry a world on your shoulders, to carry the weight of so many people, what it's like to love a name you never heard.
She thinks he is like her, the pillar on which they all stand, holding on to people who are much more than they could ever be. Knowing that there is nothing to offer but a smile sometimes, nothing to give but your heart and your best, to give their best to strangers, to give it all for people they may never meet at all.
She thinks he knows what it's like, to watch people leave because they have to, to watch people who love you more than anything in the world break your heart every time and again because it's what has to be done.
She thinks they have made room for the whole world in their hearts, so why isn't she allowed to make more room for him?
It hurts, but never in the way she thinks it would.
. . .
Yue puts on her robes like armour, her make-up like war paint, hiding the tear tracks. She stands tall under the world crashing down upon her, the black soot staining her hair. She is not afraid of the elements, she has fought them her entire life.
Thank you, she says, thank you for your sacrifice. Should you fall today, you will always be remembered.
Her eyes look at his, fixed point like the stars, but he is no longer smiling, eyes glacier cold and fists like weapons. A warrior, she thinks, sixteen and a warrior, and nothing in the world will stop him. He has eyes that know what death looks like, kisses that linger on her lips that know its taste.
She wishes he didn't think of her as a heart worth protecting.
. . .
He returns to her, as the Avatar leaves for another world, as his sister fights. He returns to her.
The moon turns red and she hold onto him as the light inside her sparks and scorches. The moon turns red and Yue's vision does too.
His arm around her, and Yue knows her time was only borrowed. His arm around her and Yue thanks the spirits they allowed her to keep it long enough to meet him, long enough to have him. His arm around her and the moon turns red.
. . .
She knows what she has to do.
It was always written in the stars. There was never anything but this.
So, she thinks, the story can still be real if the princess falls in love.
It just won't have a happy ending.
. . .
He says, I was supposed to protect you
She does not ask him what he would do if his death was needed to protect his sister, to protect to Avatar, to protect the world. The answer is clear. Always has been to people like them. His fingers tighten around hers, and he breathes in the reality of them, the harshness of the world.
She says, I have to do this.
She doesn't watch him break. She watches him steady himself. The small squeeze he gives her hands talk of understanding.
She does not tell him she would do this a hundred times over if it would give him even a single second more to smile.
She does not say, I love you.
He knows. He knows her. He was the only one who ever looked at her at all.
Her fingers slip from his and she gives back what was never hers.
. . .
. . .
[[ Because Sokka and Yue deserve way more love and I have never written from them even though they break my heart. This fandom doesn't have nearly enough fics of them. Excuse me for being terribly late to the party.
Written for Jenn. ]]