Toph's father is hungover.
The king of the Earth Kingdom, hungover. What a laughingstock they would be of the kingdom if their people found out. Most of them probably already know, because after all, what else was there to gossip about before this dreaded marriage alliance? It just sort of happened at one point or another: an extra glass of honeyed mead at dinner one night spiraled into newspapers headlined King Lao's Alcoholism: How Does It Affect You?
Everyone knows her father isn't the best king. Everyone knows how he wastes away the kingdom's treasury and makes pointless decisions. But few experience it firsthand like those at the palace do. Like Toph does.
He'd been absent at the third bond of marriage, which just ended. She tightens her grip on Ahn's arm as she leads her away from the dais as if the king is still looming over her, waiting to pluck out her mistakes and string them up for everyone to see. She feels the Esceanian prince's eyes on her back as she walks away, and it makes her face heat up for unknown reasons. Probably just leftover embarrassment from the previous night.
It was just like any other dinner, really — a selection of foods from Esceania that everyone had to choke down, various conversations streaming up and down the table, Toph keeping her entire body facing determinedly forward so Sokka didn't get any ideas. The only thing that set them apart from the others was that her father, instead of downing his one glass of wine and calling it a night, decided it was a good idea to have four. Or was it five? Possibly six?
It was a lot.
She hadn't needed sight to feel everyone's moods shifting closer and closer to the awkward and distant side of things. Even Zuko, whom she had witnessed getting drunk in the past — granted, they were alone, but still — was coughing uncomfortably and giving her pointed taps on the hand.
Toph closes her eyes, feeling the weight of them hang down her face. She feels like melting to the floor. Ahn walks her down the corridor that leads to her chambers, for the sake of appearances. She tells herself that it's for the eyes of her fiancé, for the eyes of the priest, for the eyes of her soon-to-be father-in-law. For the eyes of those who don't understand the full concept of what she can do on her own.
It's most certainly not because she's afraid of what her father might see, despite his absence. How ridiculous.
King Lao may not have been present, but that doesn't mean the goings-on of his castle don't reach his ears. Every servant, maid, and butler answers to him at the top of the spectrum, and she has no idea which ones report which things. Walking to her chambers with her lady in waiting not helping her take each and every delicate step would probably pique his interest, but it might not. She has no way of knowing if he'll even find out about it — there were few staff members present at the third bonds — but she has no intention of taking the risk.
So here she is. Holding onto Ahn's arm like the pathetic five-year-old her parents make her out to be.
Ahn understands, however. She listens. They've been together for nearly four years; they know their way around each other. Yes, she was a bit surprised when Toph first — somewhat cautiously — displayed her abilities to move on her own to her, but she adjusted quickly. They keep their masks close, their pockets deep, just in case someone should walk in on them alone in Toph's room. But once those doors shut, it's another world. A better world.
For some reason, this makes her think of Sokka. Of what awaits her behind closed doors; what awaits her as soon as she says "I do." It's a lot to think about, and she runs it all through her head as Ahn gently steers her along.
Today is Wednesday. The wedding is on Saturday, and the staff has been running around all week, scrubbing down every tile, washing every window, polishing every candle until it gleams. Every little detail must be perfect, it seems, and she surprises herself with a pang in her heart, wishing she could see it.
It isn't often she mourns for her sight, but this is her wedding, after all. Despicable as it is, it's likely the only one she'll get. Just a glimpse of the decorations, of her dress, of Sokka's face, would be enough. Perhaps it could clue her in to what he's feeling.
It would certainly help her tonight. She and Zuko are scheduled to sneak out again tonight; they're supposed to meet Aang at eleven, just about when most of the evening servants switch shifts with the night ones, the ones who prepare for breakfast in the morning. Key word: scheduled. She isn't sure they can pull it off this time.
It's been just under a week since... the last time. What happened after. Can they sneak out again? Will they be caught? Feisty as she is, is it worth the risk? She doesn't want Zuko to suffer the same fate she does, though she's inclined to believe the king wouldn't punish him in quite the same way he does to her. Her wounds have stopped bleeding, thankfully. She knows how to bandage and take care of them just so: so they don't become infected, so they don't leave scars. Goodness knows she's learned over the course of a lifetime. This is her terrible secret. This is what she can't let slip, not to anyone.
Except...
Everything always circles back to Sokka nowadays, it seems. And yet it's a worthy thing to wonder; how will he take the scars that run up and down her back? How will he handle the knowledge that his new father-in-law has laid his hands on his new wife in this way? Knowing he has lodged his wretched fingers into her skin and scraped? Any sane person would run away screaming. Her jagged skin will be the downfall of the Earth Kingdom.
Then again, Sokka has been through more than she perhaps gives him credit for. His own mother died when he was but ten years old, and no king for a father can be the most attentive. Still, he had his sister, and Toph has no one. Not even Zuko knows this little tidbit about herself, and, however close they may be, he has not had the privilege of seeing her bare backside.
She carefully folds the cloak she's holding and places it on her bed, patting it softly. If only life were as smooth as the fabric. "Ahn," she calls. "How much time before dinner?"
"About an hour, my lady," comes the answer from her closet. She must have just gotten the laundry back from the cleaning staff.
An hour. Toph sighs and hikes up her skirts, dragging herself over to the study area of her chambers. There's a desk, some papers that require her signature, a few stamps — and a blank sheet of parchment. Ahn's personal writing pen, she knows, is placed delicately on top, awaiting the moment it will be used to write Toph's vows to her betrothed.
Vows. What a heinous idea. As if marrying Sokka isn't bad enough, as if pledging herself to him for all eternity and promising to be his wife and mother of his children and partner in all things isn't enough, she has to somehow come up with a way to say all that in some form that doesn't scream I was forced into this!
Perhaps she should start with something of a warning for their wedding night. Oh, my love, my husband and partner, don't be alarmed when you see those old wounds. They hardly even hurt anymore! She can almost picture the look on his face. And yet, even though he is still a stranger, she knows that he won't back out. He has too much honor in him to be disgusted at his wife's markings, to call off the marriage agreement. The thought almost makes her smile.
"I think we should work on the vows, Ahn," she says, gesturing to the parchment. She hears her maid rummaging around in her closet, setting things down and fighting her way out of the mound of dresses.
"Now? It's a bit... late, isn't it?"
"Well, you know what you always say. Better late than never."
Ahn laughs. "Do I say that? Perhaps I should stop."
"Oh, Ahn. I have to have this wicked thing done by Saturday and I'm so bored already, can't we just get it over with?"
"You're the princess, my lady," she says. "I suppose I'll have to finish your hundred-pound load of laundry another time."
Toph scoffs, waving her hand around vaguely. "Laundry, laundry, laundry. Come on, help me with this."
"Alright." Ahn pulls a stool over and there are a few scratching sounds, marking her testing to see if the pen works. "Whenever you're ready, my lady."
She takes a deep breath. Thinks about what she really, truly wants to say to Sokka. What perhaps will make him laugh. What he might actually want to hear. Because vile as this entire situation is, she doesn't want him to be disappointed. She doesn't want him to look back on their wedding day and think of something horrid.
"Okay," she says. "How about this?"
-
Dinner is somewhat disappointing. Tomorrow she'll have to tell Ahn to let the waist of her dresses out — she barely had room for the main course. Trying not to draw attention to herself, she slides one of her hands down to her stomach and just holds it there, as if that will make the ache go away. She feels Sokka's eyes on her but says nothing.
Her father, however, has something to say. He recovered enough from his hangover to appear but seems to be slowly gaining it back. His wine glass sloshes as he stands up abruptly, tapping his spoon against it for everyone's eyes.
"I have a small announcement to make," he says, his tone slightly warbled. Someone clears their throat — Toph can only assume it's her mother — and he becomes more steady. "I'm going to be going away for a few nights."
The table tenses. The king leaving with the wedding so close? She isn't sure exactly how to feel.
"I won't be long," he continues. "Just two days. I'll be back in time for the wedding, don't worry." He chuckles lightly, and the rest of them uncomfortably join in.
Toph doesn't. Her father sits back down and small talk resumes between her parents, Sokka's father, and Zuko's uncle, who had arrived a few days previously from another expedition. Picking at the bony remains of her fish, she takes note that he neglected to share with them why he's leaving. Casual enough, though short of an explanation, but it's strange that he wouldn't at least say why.
Well. He can take his reason and shove it up his ass, for all she cares. Zuko kicks her under the table, their longtime signal for are we going out tonight?
She kicks him back, suppressing a grin. With her father gone, they can do whatever they want. She doesn't have to fear for her back, for her skin, for her life. She is free. Even if it only lasts forty-eight hours. She takes a hearty bite of her fish, ignoring the strain of her stomach against her dress. This is a victory.
A quick-working one, at that. When she goes back to her room and Ahn begins undressing her, grabbing her cloak and servant's outfit and things she'll need, she catches word that her father has already left. He's gone — just like that. Strange, she thinks again, and it makes her wonder, if only for a moment. Why is he going? Where has he gone?
But she doesn't care enough to linger. Once everything is set, she's meeting Zuko outside his chambers and they're slowly making their way down to the kitchens to meet Aang, hushing each other like children every little bit. They can't help it — she knows he's giddy, just like her. King Lao's absence affects them all.
Perhaps a bit too giddy. Perhaps that's what gets them caught.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Toph stiffens. Zuko's grip on her arm tightens. For a split second, she thinks it's her father, he's come back, he's found them, but the voice can only belong to one person. She recognizes it from their hasty conversations over the last three weeks.
Slowly, she turns around. "Prince Sokka," she says, tilting her chin back. He's caught her off guard. Are her words as wobbly as they sound coming out? "Lord Zuko and I thought we'd take a little walk."
Stupid, stupid stupid. She can hear the doubt in her voice; she can taste the lie in her mouth. How could she have been so careless? Every other night, she's cautious with her words, her steps, her everything, anything that might get them caught. In the excitement of her father leaving, she hadn't paid attention. She hadn't heard him coming.
On the other hand, Zuko's the one with sight here. Maybe she should blame him instead.
Sokka scoffs. "In that costume? I don't think so."
Stupid, stupid. They're trapped.
Angrily she tugs on a stray string on her apron. Zuko tenses on her arm, and she knows he's about to open his mouth, to say something, to most likely make this situation worse. So, without even thinking it through, she does the natural thing — stomps on his foot and yanks her arm away.
"Well, don't just stand there," she spills out. "Get your cloak. You're coming with us."
Sokka lets out a surprised little snort. Next to her, wincing in pain likely for his foot, Zuko clears his throat loudly. "Um. Toph? What — what did you just —"
"Not now, Zuko. I know what I'm doing," she says through gritted teeth, even though she most certainly Does Not.
"Wha — Toph, we can't take him with us, are you insane?"
"What, you want him to stay behind and tell somebody? Tell someone who'll get the word back to him?"
She hears Sokka swallow and her face heats up. Does he know who she's referring to? He must. He's spent enough time here in the palace to catch wind of what goes on behind closed doors.
"Excuse me, but — where, exactly, am I going with you? If I even agree to do — to, um, do that?"
Toph almost laughs. Almost. His voice is shaky and she can tell he's crossing and uncrossing his arms. The intimidating act is the obvious play, and yet he's doing it so poorly. He's obviously uncomfortable with the idea of catching them in the act, even if he doesn't know what the act is.
"Out," she explains vaguely. "Go on, get your cloak. Come right back here. Don't speak to anyone else, and don't make me come with you."
There's something amusing about the way Sokka immediately — immediately — runs off, either to get his cloak like she hopes or find some servant to tell about the princess and her closest companion being up and about in the middle of the night. And yet, somehow, she feels confident that he won't. It's not something she can explain, really, if Zuko were to ask. It's more of a feeling; a solid ball in the bottom of her gut. He won't tell on them.
"What the actual hell, Toph?" Zuko whisper-shouts in her ear. He pulls her into a corner between two walls where no one can see them. "What was that?"
"Look, yes, that was stupid. Believe me, I know," she hisses. "But we couldn't just leave him there!"
"Yes, we could have! He doesn't know where we're going, he doesn't have a clue! Why didn't you just tell him we were going out in the garden, or you wanted some fresh air, or — or something!"
She throws her hands up angrily. "I don't know, I just didn't!"
"You didn't think of it, you mean. And you wanted him to come."
"I — Excuse me?"
He crosses his arms. "You heard me."
She grasps for words; they all seem to have left her. How dare he imply that she likes him coming along! "I renounce the very idea, for your information, Lord Zuko."
"How clever of you," is all he says, and there's something final about the way he says it. Like even though he's the one who brought it up, it's done. Closed. End of discussion.
It's sort of unnerving.
"I didn't hear you giving any excuses for our whereabouts," she says.
"Because you didn't give me a chance, you stepped on my foot!" He stamps it against the ground as if to make a point. "These shoes were expensive, you know. Now there's a big brown mark. What have you been stepping in?"
"Please, if anything I'm sure it makes it look more realistic. We're supposed to be common hoodlums, remember?"
"Well, not anymore! You've blown our cover!"
"Cover?" Sokka's voice comes from her left, and they both turn around. Zuko gives a small grunt of reluctant approval, so he must have his cloak on. "What cover?"
Toph puts her hands on her hips. "Alright, here's the deal. You will follow my lead. You will stay behind me and in front of Lord Zuko. You will not say a word — not one word — until we're in the wagon. Understand?"
"... Sure, Princess," he says, in the kind of bemused tone that makes her want to strangle him. "What wagon? Where are we going?"
"I'd be careful of your use of we, Prince Sokka," Zuko says. It's rough around the corners, not his usual voice. He's on edge, more than she's ever known him to be. Even more than when he first arrived at the palace, cold and hard with a wall around him. He puts a protective hand on her shoulder. "The Princess knows what she's doing, and she's been so kind as to invite you to join our little outing. I wouldn't have been so thoughtful."
"I... will keep that in mind, Lord Zuko."
Toph takes a deep breath. "Okay, your Majesty, our agreement starts now. Zuko?"
He takes her hand. "My lady."
Silently, they cross the sparse bit of polished marble where there is no protection. Toph is alert and aware now, and there doesn't seem to be anyone around. Sokka, true to his word, stays quiet until they have entered the kitchen, tactfully ignored the cooks who are tactfully ignoring them, and met Aang outside the back door, where the wagon is waiting for them.
At first, he has no words. He helps them out, as usual, nodding and tapping her hand and giving Zuko a handshake, and then he sputters. Splutters. Stops.
"What is he doing here?"
"Long story," Toph mutters, shoving Sokka into the wagon. Aang taps his foot against the ground, like a tic that he doesn't know he's doing. "Don't worry, my friend. Word of this won't travel farther than here."
"If you're sure," he says skeptically, and she knows he fears for his life. For the lives of the other servants, of the children he was brought to the palace with. But he trusts her. She knows he does.
"He wouldn't be here if I wasn't," she assures him. "Zuko, toss a blanket on him or something."
To his credit, Sokka is still silent, even as Zuko gets a spare cloth and practically throws it onto him. He could think that they're taking him out to execute him or something, but he's been unusually stoic the whole time. It's... strange. Is this what their marriage will be like? His silence leaving her to fill their political hole with words? Their worlds awaiting statements from both of them and him allowing her to take the lead?
She takes her place beside him in the cart, with Zuko on his other side. And then Aang is draping a thick tarp over them all and patting her hand goodbye, and the cart is jostling down the dirt road that will take them to the market. It won't take longer than ten minutes, and she's already picking at her nails. Biting her lip. Any small motion that doesn't require her to move a limb.
Sokka's hand is right. Next. To hers.
Right there.
She could reach out and grab it if she wanted to.
Some primitive, primal part of her brain must decide this is a good idea, because her hand is slowly reaching out, slowly leaving its place on the wooden floor of the wagon, and she's silently begging it to stop, but it's not, it's getting closer, their skin just barely touches —
The wagon hits a bump and they all go sideways, Sokka on top of Zuko and Toph on top of Sokka. Her face lands in the soft curve of his arm, the crook of his elbow.
"Sorry," she whispers.
"'S alright," he whispers back. "I can speak now, can I not?"
"I suppose."
He lets out a soft laugh. "How kind of you. Can I ask where on Earth we're going now?"
"No, you may not."
"That's... terribly honest. And you've corrected my grammar." She can hear the grin in his voice. "Is this what our marriage will be like?"
"If I can help it," she says quietly, but she smiles as she says it. "Have you —"
"Can you two quit flirting? Someone will hear you." Zuko, his hiss coming from Toph's right. Likely his teeth are clenched and his face slightly ruddy.
Flirting. Toph feels her own face heat up, and she and Sokka cease talking. Even though the only person who could truly be annoyed by it is Zuko. The driver knows they're back here. There's no one else here.
She feels her own cautiousness slipping away. They're always careful. For some reason, Sokka is taking that need away. He's grasping at it, untying it from her soul. She must keep hold of it. She mustn't let it go. Any of herself.
His hand is still grazing hers.
It's going to be a long ride.