Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Your future is full of struggle and anguish,” drones an eerily inhuman voice. “Most of it, self-inflicted.”

Startled by the nightmare, Sokka shoots up in bed, gets tangled in the Fire Nation’s over-complicated coverlets, and tumbles onto the floor.

“This is just a coincidence,” he says to himself after a second. “Not a signal or an omen of anything to come.”

He repeats it to himself, rubbing the new bump on his head, until it sounds halfway believable.

/

“You’re early.”

A figure suddenly takes the sun’s place, casting a shadow across the third draft of Sokka’s summit schedule. Startled, Sokka jumps in his seat and splatters ink across the paper.

Time for draft four.

“Oh,” Zuko stammers, “sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Sokka shoots out of his chair and shuts him up with a giant hug, just barely remembering to put the brush down before he streaks ink all over some fancy Fire Lord robes. Zuko hugs him back just as hard. For a rare moment, they both fall silent and let the warmth do the talking for them.

“Yeah,” Sokka says when he pulls back. He glances around, and the conference room’s still empty, allowing them a few more moments alone. “I try to get places on time. Especially these big diplomatic things.”

He winces, recalling that one time when he was tinkering with a new metal heating device. It was powered by blubber like a traditional oil lamp, but it kept losing heat at an alarming rate, and Sokka started thinking maybe there was a reason the Water Tribe’s oil lamps used soapstone instead of metal, and before he knew it he’d missed a big Northern Water Tribe banquet given in his and Katara’s honor.

“I made my own clock,” Sokka says, flashing the little timepiece fastened by leather to his wrist.

And then there was the time when he missed half of a scheduled audience with King Kuei, because he lost track of time while writing a letter.

(A letter to Zuko.)

“...and I set it to go five minutes fast,” he adds, a little embarrassed. “Just to be safe.”

“Makes sense,” Zuko says, a little embarrassed too, though Sokka can’t imagine why. He pauses with the strangest shy smile. “You’re always clever like that.”

“No,” Sokka says, inexplicably tongue-tied. “No, no, I’m just-”

The door opens as a trio of other officials enter the room. Zuko glances at them, and then gives Sokka an awkward squeeze-pat-thing on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.” He pauses for a second and then adds, “Buddy.”

He sweeps away to the head of the table, transforming instantly from “awkward old friend” to “world-famous Fire Lord.” Sokka’s left in sunlight once again, but somehow the room feels dimmer.

It fills up soon, a crowd of officials streaming in for this diplomatic summit. It’s the world’s largest, since the peace talks that ended the Hundred-Year War. It’s maybe not the grandest since then- Zuko’s the highest-ranking person here by a long shot, and the focus is more on mid-level officials, a mix of governors and mayors and magistrates. Personally, Sokka thinks the summit will be more useful without all the Highnesses and Majesties around to clog things up. These are the people who actually know what’s going on, who have to execute the laws and treaties handed down from on high. It’s a chance to get down and dirty with the details. Sokka’s come fresh from the South Pole with a detailed agenda of his own, and while he doesn’t expect to get everything on the list, he thinks he can shepherd Zuko’s officials generally in the right direction. He's no fortuneteller, but still he predicts Southern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation will come out of this summit with a stronger bond.

Zuko rises before the crowd- dressed in varied shades of red, green and blue- and embarks on a welcome speech. Sokka gapes a little. This is the same guy whose pitch for joining Team Avatar was “I’m good now,” but for some reason his public speaking competence increases with the size of his audience. It’s just not fair.

“You are all honored guests of the Fire Nation. I look forward to working on important diplomatic matters during our days; during our nights, I hope you will find our city hospitable. As our guests, you are welcome to the upcoming festival that you may have heard of...”

Sokka looks up from the fourth draft of the schedule, because he most certainly did not hear about any festivals.

“On the seventh, we celebrate the Star Festival.”

Sokka checks his schedule- he marked the evening of the seventh to catch up on correspondence with the rest of Team Avatar, and if he reassigns that block it’ll have a ripple effect through the prior seven days. He retroactively shouldn’t have stopped for tea this morning.

Here comes draft five.

“You’re welcome to follow local custom,” says Zuko, “and attend with a date.”

A murmur rushes through the crowd. Sokka abandons the schedule, shooting up and casting a casual look around. He’s not the only one; a lot of the younger diplomats are doing the exact same thing. Sokka scans the audience, hoping to see someone he recognizes or-

There’s a young woman in deep green edged in gold. Her hair’s styled high in a qitou, wrapped around a headdress adorned with vibrant fresh flowers. Her eyes sparkle as they meet his.

She smiles at him.

Oh.

Oh.

Sokka breaks away, realizing that there’s an odd silence. Zuko’s broken off, now looking oddly at him.

“Or a friend,” he says, restarting his speech with a little less zeal and shifting his gaze to stare at the wall. “Or you can come alone. That’s great too.”

It doesn’t sound like it’s great, going by the way Zuko’s suddenly drooping. Sokka frowns, because maybe there’s some obscure Fire Nation custom he’s missing here, but then Zuko smoothly transitions to proper diplomatic business. Sokka follows, tracking the conversation and taking meticulous notes and speaking up when he needs to or just when he thinks he can help.

Still, he keeps stealing glances at the mysterious stranger.

/

That night, Sokka shows up five minutes early to a private working dinner with the Fire Lord. It’s a special privilege, and in their pre-summit letters Zuko importuned him to keep it quiet. We have to avoid any appearance of favoritism, Zuko said.

As long as we agree I’m actually your most favorite, Sokka replied, inordinately pleased when Zuko made zero effort to argue otherwise.

Ten minutes later, Zuko rushes in, flushed and breathless like he ran here from his last engagement, his top-knot disheveled in a way that’s weirdly endearing. 

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries,” Sokka says through a mouthful of truly excellent tuna-eel sashimi. He swallows. “Sorry I started without you.”

Zuko snorts. “I could never stand between you and true love.”

Sokka gestures at the tray laid out for their meal. A tray that’s strikingly meat-heavy, even for a Fire Nation dinner. There’s bacon on the rice.

“Did you order meat for every dish?”

“I…” Trailing off, Zuko decides to sit down as he regroups. “I remember you liked meat, so I thought maybe having a lot of meat would make it feel more like home?”

Sokka takes a giant bite of a seaweed-wrapped rice block, chomping right through to the salted fish center. As he moans in pleasure, his eyes roll back in his head.

“Best. Diplomat. Ever.”

Zuko takes a rice block of his own, shaking his head with a smile. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s you. How many pages of notes did you take today?”

“Twenty-three point four!”

“Exactly,” Zuko says. “Though...I’m wondering how much of that was love poems.”

Sokka sputters, choking on cloud-crowberry tea. “You noticed?”

“I think the entire palace noticed,” he comments, looking down with a little unhappy frown. Sokka doesn’t take it personally- Zuko said it himself, he’s never happy.

“Sunmi’s wonderful, isn’t she?” Sokka says, offering him a sly smile.

Zuko doesn’t return it.

“Mayor Li has a reputation for competence,” is all he says. “She’s best known for introducing a new library organization system in her colony.”

Sighing dreamily, Sokka forgets to put anything in his mouth for a full twenty seconds. “That makes her twice as sexy, honestly.”

“Of course it does.”

Now he’s scowling, but Sokka interprets that as his trademark deadpan humor.

“So,” Zuko ventures after a moment, “what happens next for you two?”

“Well…” Sokka blissfully recalls some advice he bestowed on Aang, because sometimes even one-hundred-year-old Avatars need advice from the real masters. Aang gave up on implementing it, probably because it was in Aunt Wu’s town and they got distracted by exploding volcanoes, but it’s still a solid game plan. “I gotta keep her interested, which means playing hard to get. Can’t be too easy-“

“You’re not easy!” Zuko protests.

“I know that,” he says with a laugh. “But predictability is the biggest downfall of nice guys.” 

Zuko puts down his chopsticks to contemplate this wisdom. He seems oddly taken with it.

“Does that really work?” he asks, one eye wide with awe.

“Sure, it works!” He’s never actually seen it work, but in theory it makes perfect sense. When the silence stretches too long, Sokka adds, “We gotta keep them guessing.”

“We?” He frowns, like he’s surprised at being termed a “nice guy.”

“Yeah, ‘we,’” Sokka says. “You cuddle turtleducks in your spare time! Can’t get sweeter than that.”

A knock at the door interrupts Zuko’s sputtering. “Your Majesty? The last diplomat has arrived.”

He looks up at his servant, one of the hundreds who must now hang on his every word. “Have you-“

“We cleaned her room eight times.”

“And did you-“

“We removed all mirrors within sight of the bed.”

“And don’t forget-“

“We laid out lucky pineapple slices in a perfect fan shape, as requested.”

Sokka whips his head back and forth between them.

Then he snorts. “Who does this lady think she is?”

“A well-respected leader,” Zuko replies, “from Makapu Village.” He turns his attention to the servant, still fidgeting oddly on the threshold. “Is there something else?”

“...she requests that you greet her personally in the courtyard, since it’s auspicious timing.”

Sokka’s jaw falls open.

That’s ridiculous. That’s patently ridiculous. Short of maybe Aang, maybe Katara or Toph or maybe him, nobody gets to order the Fire Lord away from his dinner like that. Sokka rolls his eyes and waits for Zuko to send the servant packing…

“Well, if she thinks it’s important.” Setting aside a fried pig-chicken chop that’s tragically half-eaten, he rises to his feet.

“Zuko!” Sokka protests in shock. And maybe he’s in no position to ask the Fire Lord to ignore what might be an important diplomatic obligation, but it’s surprising to lose Zuko like this, okay? It just doesn’t feel right.

“I’ll have to see you tomorrow,” Zuko tells him, straightening out the wrinkles in his robes. “I have other obligations, and I don’t devote all my spare energy to just one ambassador.”

He’s weirdly stilted as he says it, like it’s a lie, and as he departs Sokka can’t help feeling like he screwed up somewhere. He doesn’t know where. None of this makes any sense, especially the little self-satisfied smirk Zuko wears as he sweeps out the door to greet some lady Sokka’s never heard of-

Wait.

Makapu Village. Auspicious timings. Lucky pineapple slices. 

Sokka gapes, suddenly reminded of the morning’s nightmare, even as he processes the fact that Zuko ditched him for Aunt Wu.

/

So Sokka’s dealt with a lot of ruffians and villains in his time. He faced Zuko down back in his shouty stage, he got dragged around a moonlit forest by Hama, and there was that entire war against Ex-Fire Lord Ozai to consider.

But Sokka has a special hole reserved at the bottom of his heart, seething with his deepest rage and resentment, just for Aunt Wu. 

She’s a fortune-teller, if you ask her or Aang or any of the people of Makapu Village, whose brains are clearly addled by volcanic gas. In Sokka’s book, she’s a fraud of the lowest class. She convinced her followers to trust her cloud-reading skills to predict a volcano. They nearly all burned to death!

And now she’s got a Fire Lord in her clutches.

The whole palace is abuzz about her arrival. Aunt Wu missed the start of the conference because the clouds said traveling on time was “lethally dangerous.” Instead she sat around at home and set out late, presumably after a fluffy bunny cloud gave her permission.

“And then she got here, perfectly safe,” Sunmi murmurs to Sokka in their stolen moments before the next morning’s meeting. Sokka got here early, but he’s hanging around outside, getting to know the new love of his life, instead of going in where Zuko is. One ambassador shouldn’t monopolize the Fire Lord, after all.

“That’s...good.” It is. Sokka doesn’t wish lethal danger on anyone, no matter how personally irritating they might be.

“Yeah,” Sunmi remarks, “just proves her predictions are spot-on.”

“Totally…” A second later, Sokka tears his thoughts away from her sparkly eyes and processes what she’s just said. “Wait, what?”

At that second, the doors open to officially welcome them, and Zuko offers a special smile just for Sokka, stealing the words right out of his mouth. Sokka bursts forward, newly desperate to get at least a few words in edgewise before the court claims him for the day, but nope, Zuko engages someone, probably the Undersecretary of Overdramatic Department Names, in conversation before he gets too close.

Almost like he’s playing hard-to-get…

With a stern shake of his head, Sokka disabuses himself of the idea and sets up his personal ambassador station, with a hundred fresh sheets of paper and several full ink pots and a back-up brush in case he stabs the first one too hard in exasperation. He pours a nice pool of ink into his dish and unrolls his newest draft of his schedule, calmly not thinking about the prediction Aunt Wu made about him a few years back. There was no palm reading for him, no grand portent in the sky, nope. She just took one look at his face and declared his life would be full of “struggle and anguish.”

Mostly self-inflicted.

Which is nonsense, because his life’s peachy right now. He’s sitting right next to his future wife- who’s a little too trusting of a scummy scammer of a “fortune-teller,” but hey, so is the literal Avatar. He’s in the Fire Nation royal palace, representing his tribe, and though he misses home and ice and air that doesn’t glue his shirt to his chest, Sokka can appreciate this. And Zuko smiled at him, even though he’s been weird and flaky and cool in a way that just doesn’t fit him, almost like he’s purposefully avoiding Sokka. But obviously he isn’t, so Sokka’s life is perfect right now. Not a struggle in sight. Certainly no “self-inflicted anguish.”

“Sokka of the Water Tribe-” Aunt Wu appears in the flesh behind him, looking down with that kindly smile that hides a world of deceit- “I guessed I’d see your face again.”

Fuming, Sokka slams down his brush, miscalculates, and overturns his inkwell all over his newest schedule.

/

“I‘ll see you tonight,” Sokka tells Sunmi.

Compelled by some strange urge to talk to Zuko, Sokka stays behind as she leaves. He wants to check in with Zuko, even though he doesn’t have anything specific to say. 

But just as he gets close, Aunt Wu sweeps down on them. 

“Your Majesty,” she simpers, “have you come to your decision?”

“It’s very kind of you to offer me a palm reading,” Zuko says before hesitating, and Sokka’s jaw drops at her presumption. “I’ve decided...I’d prefer to leave my future a mystery at this time.”

Sokka nearly does a fist pump to celebrate.

For her part, Aunt Wu looks a little downcast, almost like she couldn’t see this coming. One point for Zuko’s unpredictability.

She recovers though, adding, “I understand entirely. But allow me to at least say that your future is not as grim as you think. There is unexpected joy awaiting you at the next bend in your path.”

She glides away, looking impossibly pleased with herself, and Sokka scowls. It’s great that Zuko didn’t buy into her little mind games, but his reasoning sounds a tad bit wonky.

“Hey,” Sokka pipes up once everyone else clears the room, “just to check, you didn’t turn her down because you were scared, right?”

“Well…”

He bursts out sputtering. “You should turn her down because fortunetelling is totally fake. There’s no set future controlling us!”

Zuko glares at him, the sort of look that was very intimidating, oh, about two years ago and now just makes him look like a squalling tiger-kitten. “Aang has visions of the future all the time.”

“That’s different-“

“Your girlfriend turned into the moon!”

“That was one time-“

“Wasn’t it her destiny from birth to turn into the moon?”

“But-“

“I’m just saying,” Zuko says, railroading right over him. “I think destiny’s got a hand in our lives. We’re both in this room overseeing an era of peace. You and me, together. Are you honestly saying it doesn’t feel a little like fate?”

Sokka reaches for a smart-aleck retort. All he gets is an inconvenient tenderness, clogging up his throat.

“I heard you’re going to see the Silver Dragon Players tonight, with Sunmi,” Zuko murmurs, changing the topic. He’s looking down at his own notes, but he kindly picks up the conversation when it’s clear Sokka can’t.

“Yeah…that’s not a problem for you, is it?”

Zuko looks up sharply. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, you know. I represent one place, Sunmi represents a different place, maybe there’s a conflict of interest?”

There’s a pause.

“That’s not an issue,” Zuko answers quietly. “At least not by Fire Nation standards. If you’re transparent and you file the right papers, we can respect separate personal and professional relationships. There’s…”

“What?”

“There’s a certain appreciation for that sort of thing, actually. Love across national lines? It reminds people that under the different-colored clothes we’re all the same.”

He makes this declaration so wistfully, so romantically, that it takes Sokka by surprise. And Zuko did listen rather closely to Sokka’s dating advice the other day, almost like…

“Holy pig-cow, you’re into one of the girls here.”

“Sokka.“

“Look, if it’s Sunmi I can back off right now, you can have the tickets-“

“Sokka!”

“Yes?” Sokka breaks off, a little breathless.

“I’m not in love with any girl right now.”

He frowns, because there’s something tricky in how Zuko says that. Some subtle nuance that’s flying over his head. “You sure?”

Zuko nods, resolute. He still manages to look like he’s in pain.

“...Okay, then.” Sokka shrugs.

“Enjoy the show.” Zuko once again starts rifling through his paperwork.

As Sokka leaves, he inexplicably finds himself thinking about the last deadfall trap he made back in the South Pole. He spent hours rigging up the rope and the branches, measuring the angles and choosing the best boulders. At the last second, as a delicious cheetah-seal waddled right into sight, Sokka misstepped, triggered the trap, and dropped the boulder onto his own foot.

He keeps thinking about that, even though that mishap that nobody ever needs to talk about again has nothing to do with his conversation with Zuko.

Silly subconscious.

/

That night, Sokka bids Sunmi good-bye and leaves her at the door to her room, taking his own advice to play it cool. As he leaves, he’s walking on air. The play was gorgeous. Now, admittedly he didn’t hear much of it, because Sunmi kept whispering her critiques in his ear, but that’s okay- he appreciates that sort of rigorous intellectual engagement with the arts. And technically most of her points were wrong, or at least unfair, because she kept judging the play like it was noh and complaining about the raunchy jokes, but it was more kabuki-style, so actually the jokes were a plus. But Sokka wouldn’t have known about that genre distinction if not for Zuko. Zuko, who’s a veritable encyclopedia on all things theatrical, whose head shoots up when anyone mentions drama, hands dancing, golden eyes sparkling like stars...

Anyway.

Sokka practically floats into one of the palace gardens. He has no worries. No fears. Nothing could possibly bring him back down to earth-

Except Aunt Wu, sitting with a scroll on a bench, tossing him a knowing smile as he enters.

She did not know he was going to be here. No how, no way. 

“Ambassador,” she calls, gesturing at a nearby seat, “you’re right on time. May I have a word?”

Out of diplomatic obligation, Sokka trudges over to her and sits, his good mood abandoned.

“It’s illuminating,” she declares, “watching the stars from Caldera instead of my humble village. The constellations dance so differently here, because this place has such a different sort of destiny.”

“That’s not why the stars look different...“ Sokka gives up his protest with a sigh. “Never mind.”

Her eyes twinkle merrily. “I’m sure you remember what I last predicted, about your fate.”

“What?” Sokka splutters. “Nope, no, I don’t remember a thing.”

She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t call him on his bluff. “I stand by my prior predictions. Still, the world has entered a happier era, and I believe you have too. In fact…” Her gaze darts up to the stars and back to Sokka. “Good fortune is upon you! A fresh new romance.”

He stares at Aunt Wu, unimpressed.

Completely oblivious to his disdain, she carries on monologuing. “The Star Festival heralds a change in your heart. Oh, you have never known such warmth and passion as you will this night. On the seventh, all the past twists of your fate will lead you to a kiss with a great love of your life, who shall stay in your soul forevermore!”

The speech crescendoes to a grand peak, and she stops, bosom heaving, waiting like a prima donna for applause.

“Fine,” Sokka says dryly. “I’m going to bed.”

He keeps his walk nonchalant until he’s out of her sight, and he then allows himself a little stomping. Who does she think she is? She might have everyone else fooled, but Sokka’s a rationalist. He sees right through her airs and her lies. According to Zuko, the entire palace has heard about Sunmi and Sokka. According to both Zuko’s speech and Sokka’s reading, the Star Festival is a holiday devoted entirely to love. The whole point is romance, and dating, and grand dramatic gestures. Anyone with sense can guess that Sokka’s going to ask Sunmi to the festival and steal a couple kisses.

(And a lot more, if he’s lucky.)

As he crosses the threshold of his own suite- and that’s funny, Zuko definitely gave him a full five-room suite right by the royal wing while everyone else has just a bedroom with an adjoining bath- a brilliant thought strikes. Aunt Wu just boxed herself in with the most specific prediction Sokka’s ever heard her give. That means he’s got a real shot at disproving her. It’s not for his own sake- he doesn’t believe her even a little, she’s just been getting lucky with vague wording and creepy coincidences. But Aunt Wu’s got her fishhooks in Katara, and Aang, and maybe now the Fire Lord himself, so Sokka needs to step up and debunk her claims once and for all.

He just needs to guarantee that the Star Festival’s not the most romantic night of his life. He needs to make it the least romantic night of his life. That means he can’t go with Sunmi, who he’s been planning on inviting since their eyes first met. He can’t even go alone, because then he’ll be at risk of meeting another eligible young single and falling into the trap of a conventional love story. No, he needs to go with the least eligible person he can find, someone who’ll stick by him in the most friend-like and least date-like manner imaginable, someone who would never in a million years want to kiss him.

He needs to go with Zuko.

Chapter Text

It’s no big deal. Sokka just scrawls a note and sends it off to Zuko, nothing fancy, just a casual inquiry about whether he’s free on the night of the Star Festival. But then there’s a knock on his door as Sokka’s chomping down breakfast, and even though his schedule dictates he should be reading up on tariff laws right now, he lets the intruder in.

“...Zuko?”

Zuko’s breathless before him in casual robes, his hair still unstyled and spilling onto his shoulders. He lifts up the note. “Did you mean to send this to me?”

“Uh...yes?”

“You mean your advice actually worked?”

“Of course!” Sokka boasts without thinking. “Wait, what advice?”

“About being cool around...never mind.” Zuko beams at him so brightly, Sokka didn’t know his facial muscles were capable of it. Maybe they sprain from the sudden stretch.

“So...you wanna hang out at the festival?”

Brain apparently short-circuiting, Zuko gapes for a second, jaw jumping though no sound comes out. Sokka glances behind himself, just to make sure Zuko’s not staring past him at a newly materialized platypus-bear. 

“Yeah,” he finally breathes, so softly Sokka isn’t sure he heard right.

“No other plans? No secret girlfriend I should worry about?”

(And it’s weird- he does worry, in case Zuko got back together with Mai or some other powerful, terrifying Fire-Lady-to-be. When he considers it, the rainbow salmon he ate for breakfast flops in his stomach, like it’s still alive.)

Zuko clears his throat, snatching back some of his composure. “No one but you.”

“Cool.”

“Sweet.” 

Zuko flashes him another dazzling smile, and Sokka can’t imagine what he did to deserve it. Before he can ask, Zuko flies back down the hallway to prepare for his day.

/

Sokka doesn’t think twice about it when one of Zuko’s assistants interrupts him that evening to ask what he’ll be wearing to the festival. “The Fire Lord would like to coordinate his colors to complement your outfit, and to ensure his finery doesn’t do you a disservice by shining too brightly.”

On the morning of the seventh, another assistant brings Sokka a bright red rose to pin to his shirt. “Tonight, the Fire Lord will wear the same variety around his wrist.”

So Zuko’s trying to atone for his past fashion crimes. Sokka, who still remembers the bald-head-ponytail combo, doesn’t question it for a second.

He also has no questions when the palace’s head chef personally presents him with a deep red box at the end of his breakfast. “Compliments of the Fire Lord. Please eat them at once, before they evaporate.”

If someone tells Sokka to eat something immediately, he’s hardly going to refuse them. He opens the box right up and finds three exquisite jellies shaped like hemispheres.

No.

Like water droplets.

They’re perfectly clear, and they glisten and wobble just like water, and each has a fruit or flower suspended within it. Sokka spies a Labrador tea blossom, and some arctic saxifrage, and a greaseberry, each petal and drupelet perfectly preserved in vibrant, true-to-life colors. 

For a second, Sokka feels bad about eating something so beautiful. Once he rapidly gets over those hang-ups, he finds they’re sweet but never overpowering, with bursts of flavor from the fillings.

When he’s done, he closes the box back up and realizes it’s perfectly heart-shaped.

At first he can only blink at it in confusion, but then he chalks the shape up to some opaque Fire Nation custom he must not have come across yet. Something to do with how “fire is actually a heartbeat” or related Avatar gibberish.

Sokka quickly forgets all about that. He speeds through the day’s work. Like all the young diplomats at this conference, he’s restless, just waiting for the meetings to be over.

Soon enough, it’s festival time.

Zuko’s promised to join him once night falls and the main party starts, but in the late afternoon Sokka’s got one golden block of time marked “free” on his schedule. He heads out into the city, where the festivities are already ramping up. Rainbow-colored lanterns and streamers flutter in the light summer breeze. The fire lilies’s scent wafts fragrant through the air, and Sokka strays from the main path to appreciate their vibrant blossoms and the lush bamboo trees around them.

When he does, he realizes the streamers hanging from the trees’ branches are actually vividly colored slips of paper, marked with ink. Sokka peers closer and sees they’re painted with names and wishes.

“I hope my daughter recovers from her illness- Kyoko.”

“I hope the Earth Kingdom’s harvests are bountiful this year- Ruomei.” 

“I hope for balance and love.”

Sokka stares too long at that last one. It’s written on nicer paper than the rest. The side with writing is a deep red, but the back is gold, and when Sokka reaches out it feels more like fine cloth than paper, firm and real between his fingers. 

It’s unsigned, but Sokka wonders for a second if…

/

Sokka arrives at the palace party five minutes early, bouncing around a little from nervousness he can’t explain. Then he catches sight of Sunmi, hanging on an older lady’s arm, giggling in delight at her companion’s chatter and throwing Sokka quick, surly glares. Suddenly, the nervousness gets a lot more explainable, because he thought he’d be beside Sunmi tonight. But he isn’t, and he gets the feeling that now he’ll never be.

On the bright side, the whole plan of making this the least romantic night of his life is going better than expected.

He looks away towards the palace doors, where surely the Fire Lord’s arrival will be announced by drumbeats and fanfare and those two weird old ladies…

“Hi.”

Sokka whirls around to find Zuko behind him, and maybe it’s just because of the glow of the lanterns or the stars above, but the sight steals his breath. He couldn’t imagine how Zuko was going to “coordinate their colors,” but he’s managed it.

“Wow,” Sokka says, a little light-headed. “We match.”

Zuko glances down at his robes- mostly navy, brocaded with red-and-gold dragons- and looks back up. “Yeah...I hope you like it?”

“It’s...I’ve…” Sokka gives up on answering verbally, because every response sounds low-key romantic and he doesn’t want to make this awkward, and just nods.

Still Zuko’s face lights up, the way Suki’s used to when Sokka complimented her sparring. “You want some meat?”

“You have to ask?”

Zuko’s smile turns to a smirk. “Come on, I know the best place.”

/

The best place, as it turns out, is nowhere near the palace. Zuko sends away all but his most resigned-looking guard- who, Sokka then realizes, is also his head guard- with a request that they enjoy the palace party on their own. Then Zuko leads her and Sokka back into the palace, past a door definitely not meant for royals, down a staircase into a secret tunnel- and doesn’t that bring back memories- and out into the open air of a city street. Some townspeople look askance at them as the Fire Lord ascends from a manhole, but then they look away. Maybe out of respect for his privacy. Maybe because…

“Do you sneak around a lot?” Sokka asks.

He shrugs. “Sure. I used to be the Blue Spirit, you know.”

Sokka did not know. Sokka really did not know, and when he demands more details Zuko gives them, half-bashful and half-proud. 

“You took down Zhao’s firebenders with a bucket of water?”

Their chatter sustains them through an entire bucket of meat- specifically, the best fried squid-pus balls Sokka’s ever tasted in his life. Then they start comparing the best meat dishes they’ve ever tasted anywhere, across their travels. Then they discuss the appropriate amount of fire flakes to eat each day. Zuko says “all the fire flakes.” Sokka can only wail in despair. 

After that, Zuko asks him how he enjoyed his recent trip to the theater, and he pouts when Sokka says he couldn’t hear the play over Sunmi’s commentary. Zuko takes it upon himself to remedy that. He starts reciting all the key passages, swapping between the voices so crisply Sokka never has to wonder which character he’s quoting. He nearly teases Zuko for apparently storing entire plays in his memory, but he’s so focused, so blissfully earnest in his recitation that Sokka feels bad for even considering it.

Inevitably, they wind up in a little market selling festival trinkets. Sokka doesn’t mean to stray from the major road down the alleyway, but someone mentions “sale” and he’s drawn forth like a magnet. Without protest, Zuko follows him. Sokka scrutinizes one stall after another, conducting an in-depth debate with himself on whether to buy something while Zuko watches, silent and smiling indulgently.

“So on the one hand, I don’t need another necklace, ‘cause I already have one and it’s fabulous. But on the other hand, this is such cool beadwork. I didn’t know you could braid twelve strings together; I wonder whether we could up the tensile strength of rope like that? But on the other other hand- hey!”

With a mischievous smile, Zuko pays for the necklace he’s examining right now. “You’re welcome.”

Sokka stammers for a second, staring down at the necklace that he now owns apparently. It’s soft and neatly braided, with blue and red and gold swirled together. Suddenly, he realizes he has no idea how to work the delicate clasp.

“Here.” Right on time, Zuko holds out his hand, and Sokka passes it over.

Delicately, he steps behind Sokka and brushes his hair out of the way. Then, he fastens the necklace around his neck, his hands gentle and warm. His touch feels remarkably tentative, and Sokka figures the clasp must be really finicky. When he finishes and Sokka spins around to show it off, Zuko’s beaming again.

“It’s beautiful on you.”

“Thanks.” Sokka’s glad it’s dark, because he never thought himself that vain but he’s definitely blushing right now. As they walk away, he asks, “Are necklaces a big thing today?”

“No, but I guess braided things might be symbolic,” Zuko answers after a second, “because of the story behind the festival.”

Sokka skimmed the foundational myth of the Star Festival a couple days back, but he found a bunch of different overly poetic versions that didn’t make much sense. “Could you tell me the story?”

“Oh. Well…” Zuko tucks back a curl of his hair, jostled by their prior sneaking. “It began with the Star Princess and the Shepherd, born on opposite sides of a great river. They fell in love, and they got married, and that’s when everything went wrong.”

“Whoops.”

“See,” he continues with a chuckle, “the shepherd forgot all about his flocks because he spent all his time mooning after the princess. And the princess forgot all about her weaving-“ lifting a hand, he lightly touches Sokka’s braided necklace- “because she loved him so much too. Then they were broken up, for dereliction of duty. The princess got dragged back home, and they had to just pine hopelessly from opposite sides.”

“...That’s rough, buddy.”

Zuko lets out a snort. “You see those two stars?”

He gestures upwards at two glistening points of light in the sky, drawn closer than usual. After a bit of squinting, Sokka nods.

“On this day, every year, those stars come together. That means every year, today, the princess and the shepherd get one night to cross the divide, on a bridge made by crow-magpies...and be together.”

Zuko turns around to look at him, and suddenly Sokka realizes he got taller than Zuko this past year. That means Zuko has to look up at him, face upturned with this impossibly radiant look of hope, starry-eyed and incandescent, and for one strange instant, Sokka wants to do something unspeakably un-friend-like.

But he doesn’t.

Because he can’t let Aunt Wu win, for one thing. More importantly, because Zuko never signed up for that, and wouldn’t be interested, and if Sokka assaulted the Fire Lord with an unwanted kiss he could very well spark another hundred-year war.

So he turns his head away sharply, and kicks himself for imagining Zuko looking disappointed in the periphery. “Do you really believe the story?”

“I...guess so? I think the heart of the story rings true, even if there wasn’t an actual star princess and a bird bridge.”

“But some people present legends as literal fact.” Sokka opts for a safer, professorial mode of conversation, doing his best to wipe all wild impulses from his brain. “So is it enough for the overall patterns to be right if the details aren’t…”

/

They sneak back into the palace without the slightest trouble and weave their way right back into the festivities. When they emerge into the crowd, Zuko catches sight of a firebending magician performing in the main court, and he snatches Sokka’s hand and pulls him forward, just in time to see her turn a bird-shaped fireball into a flock of live crow-magpies. They immediately flutter over and start trying to steal Zuko’s crown, and Sokka laughs deliriously until they start pecking at his new necklace too. He waves them away, feeling weirdly protective.

Once they escape from the ambush, Sokka notices a crowd of nobles flailing around, waving their hands and arms and…

“Are they dancing?” Sokka says, bewildered.

“Uh…”

Sokka spins around to face him. “Did you bring dancing back to the Fire Nation?”

“It was the dragons’ idea!” Zuko protests.

He throws his head back and laughs. “Are you going to dance?”

Zuko pretends to consider it for a moment before fixing him with a minxish smile. “Not by myself, I’m not.”

“Smart,” he snorts. “You want a dance partner so you’re not alone in your embarrassment.”

“...Something like that.”

So they dance. Sokka has no idea how to do Fire Nation dances, but neither does anyone in the Fire Nation apparently. He just invents a funny arm move, and Zuko mirrors him with a flourish of the wrist that makes it look like an actual dance step. Then Zuko improvises a little hopping routine, and Sokka follows that and adds a clap on every beat. They take turns like that, following each other’s cues, faking it so well that everyone starts copying their motions.

(If he and Zuko were dating, it’d be embarrassingly romantic. But they’re not, so it’s not. This is just an activity that two friends do sometimes. The friendliest of activities.)

When they step away, breathless and red-cheeked, Zuko links their arms and places a komodo-chicken kebab in Sokka’s hand and guides them back inside the palace, up to a secluded balcony. “We’ll have the best view of the fireworks from here. Hey, could I…”

He gestures at the kebab. 

Sokka slides off a chunk of meat and pops it right between Zuko’s lips. Then he remarks, “You know, tonight’s been way more fun than I expected.”

As he chews, Zuko tilts his head quizzically. “...Thanks, I think.”

“I’m glad you were free tonight,” Sokka continues. “You did me a real favor, buddy.”

“I did?”

“Mm-hmm. See, I nearly asked Sunmi, but then Aunt Wu said this was fated to be the most romantic night of my life thus far.”

Zuko chuckles. “That’s sweet. But honestly? You don't need ‘fate’ to be your wingman with me. I’d be here any night. Not literally here, because there aren’t fireworks most nights, but I’d be with you any night if you wanted-“

“Zuko.“ Sokka cuts him off. “What are you talking about?”

He falls abruptly silent. Warily, he says, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to prove her predictions are a bunch of crock,” Sokka says, feeling suddenly unsure. “That’s why I came with you.”

“So it wouldn’t be romantic,” Zuko intones.

“Well, if Katara or Aang were here, I’d have asked them, but you’re the next best thing!”

He ends with a grin, but Zuko’s just staring at him like Boomerang’s clocked him on the head again. “I need a minute.”

Slowly Sokka’s smile falters. “Wait, did you think-“

A sudden boom cuts him off. Sokka whips around his head to see fireworks shooting upwards, splashing big red hearts across the sky.

When he looks back, Zuko’s gone.

Sokka’s brain casually wanders back to a prophecy of endless self-inflicted anguish, and that boulder he once dropped on his foot.

He tears back into the palace, but he’s not the one who lives here. He can’t see Zuko or guess where he’d flee. Maybe to his room? Sokka springs up the stairs towards the general vicinity of the Fire Lord’s quarters, only to crash right into a regal figure in red.

Aunt Wu.

“Oh, child,” she groans with one look at his face.

“Don’t say anything else to me-“

“I would have loved to advise you, but I predict that if I do you’ll manage to ruin this night further.”

For a second, he stares at her. Then they nod at each other in understanding, and he keeps running.

According to the guards, Zuko hasn’t been upstairs all night. And that doesn’t mean much, if Zuko’s as good at sneaking around his house as his city, but Sokka takes their word for it and runs back down, into the heart of the palace party.

At the center of an adoring throng, he spots Zuko.

Zuko’s dancing with a Fire Nation lady, a young, eligible noblewoman he might marry one day. A few minutes later, he’s mingling with the ministers who keep his country running. Through it all he glows so golden Sokka’s eyes water, just looking at him, because Zuko’s ascending before his eyes. He’s human, yes, but he’s also the Fire Lord. A living legend. A rising star.

(Sokka fell in love with the moon, once. He should know better than to long for the sun.)

But Sokka’s infatuation with Sunmi flashed like a sparkler, brilliant and attention-grabbing and ultimately short-lived; already, he feels it burning out. By contrast his feelings for Zuko have crept up on him while he wasn’t looking, a warm slow heat curling up in his chest, steady and unmovable. They’re like the first burst of sunlight after a long polar night- like a revelation, sure, yet also the most natural thing in the world.

Sokka brushes his braided necklace, and remembers a shepherd who loved a star princess. And he doesn’t believe in legends, or in patterns of destiny repeating themselves through the ages, but he can’t stop himself from hoping.

/

Sokka finds Zuko alone, on the balcony, as the party winds down close to midnight. He had a speech all planned out and rehearsed, but after a couple false starts he realizes he’s forgotten it all.

Instead, he silently thrusts out a bouquet of fire lilies, freshly picked from the streets outside.

Zuko looks down at them skeptically. “Why?”

“They reminded me of you.” Now Zuko turns the skeptical look on him, so Sokka fumbles onwards. “They’re special, and pretty, and...Fire Nation-y?”

He takes them after a second, muttering, “We both know I’m not pretty.”

“That’s not true!”

Zuko glares at him. Then, he sighs weightily and starts in on a speech that sounds like he rehearsed it. “Look, Sokka, I obviously misunderstood your invitation. And it’s my fault, because I was the one who told you people can come to the festival just as friends, so I accept full responsibility. I apologize.” Sokka wants to argue, because he really might be a master of self-inflicted damage and at least part of this is his fault. But before he can, Zuko adds, “And if I’m honest, I always knew this was impossible between us.”

Sokka’s stomach plummets. Out loud though, he mutters, “Yeah.”

“Obviously,” Zuko snorts.

“You’re out of my league,” Sokka says with a matter-of-fact shrug.

For a second, they stand in the world’s most awkward silence.

“...Sorry, what?”

“Well,” Sokka says, the words bubbling right out of him, hot and painful, “how could it ever work with you and me? You’re the freaking Fire Lord. You’re stronger than I can even imagine, and you’re brave and, and sincere, and sweet in ways that defy all logic, not to mention you’re the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The further he gets into his speech, the harder Zuko frowns. 

They fall into another dreadful silence.

“You have it backwards.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Zuko growls, jabbing a finger at Sokka’s chest, “you’re out of my league. You’re brilliant, and you’re funny, and you’ve got an entire world at your fingertips, not just the Fire Nation-“ he gestures wildly at the horizon, as if Sokka cares about anything off this balcony right now- “and you’re nice and decent to the core, and you’re a hundred times better-looking than I’ll ever be!”

He finishes his monologue with a furious scowl. For a second, Sokka’s mind goes blank.

Then, he pulls Zuko into his arms, laughing.

He laughs as Zuko keeps grumbling into his shoulder. When he finally gives up on the grumpiness and starts chuckling with him, Sokka lets loose and cackles deliriously. A moment later, he discreetly checks his wristwatch.

Thank the spirits- it’s just past midnight. They’ve officially made it to the eighth.

He pulls back and tips Zuko’s face up and finds it painfully radiant with hope. It’s no longer the day of the Star Festival, and so it’s with exactly zero reservations that Sokka swoops in for a kiss.

As he closes his eyes and delights in this new revelation, Sokka devotes a moment of silence to the latest draft of his schedule. He’s just set it on metaphorical fire, because now that he knows what it’s like to have an armful of warm, giggly Fire Lord, he’ll have to spend the next month really familiarizing himself with the sensation. Forget the meetings and the reading- this is the only research on his agenda right now.

He then devotes another moment of silence to mourning Aunt Wu, whose fortunetelling credibility has at last died its definitive death. Yes, Sokka suffers a lot of self-inflicted wounds. And sure, his night at the Star Festival was romantic- if he ever saw a play so dreadfully cliched and sentimental he’d walk out at intermission- but there was definitely no kiss on the seventh. His lips did not meet Zuko’s until 12:04 A.M. This is the hill he will die on.

A few seconds later, Zuko pulls away for breath and then dives back in at a new angle, tugging Sokka closer. In response, Sokka moans in pleasure and snuggles right up to him. A few seconds after that, a thought idly floats into his mind.

He definitely set his clock to run five minutes fast.