Chapter Text
“I don’t like your tone, Firelord!” an elder scolds from across the table, chair scuffing the marble beneath him as he stands.
Zuko remains seated, shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath in, then blows it out. If it’s a little smokier than he knows normal breaths to be, he does not acknowledge it.
“I apologize, sir,” he says as he opens his eyes, focusing on the parchment in front of him rather than the man. “It’s been a long day.”
A long year is more like it. A long life. This is not the first, or the last time someone has made it clear to Zuko that they do not trust or respect his legislature. Once the first snide comment got out with no immediate repercussions, the more conservative staff have become much more loose-lipped since the beginning of Zuko’s term.
“Can I ask again why this is even necessary?” the man continues, still standing.
Zuko huffs, ignores the ember or two flying from his mouth onto the table, and looks up at him through his brow. “Whether you think this is necessary or not is irrelevant. Sit back down.”
He does not. Instead, he pushes his chair back and begins to walk around the table to approach Zuko. “You keep introducing these outrageous, expensive plans that do nothing to benefit us as a nation—!”
“Everything is not solely about benefiting ourselves,” he stops that idea before it can get any further. “For a century, we have done nothing but destroy and pillage. The least we can do is support other nations who are struggling because of us.” He tears his eyes away from the presence towering over him and goes back to the parchment, but not before scanning the room and taking note of the overwhelmingly neutral, complicit faces around the table that were very talkative before this outburst.
Lots of familiar faces from the last moments he was still able to see out of both eyes. Faces that smiled. Faces that showed no opposition. Faces that, albeit slightly older, look no different than the faces that looked down on him that very day he was banished.
“We can’t all hold hands in a circle and sing together, Zuko–”
“That’s Firelord Zuko to you–”
“Who are you to tell us we’re these evil people?”
...Did he seriously just ask me that?
“Why is there only one Air Nomad in the entire world right now?” Zuko jerks his head up to face the man who is now standing directly over him. “Why is the Southern Water Tribe less populated and less advanced than the North? Why—”
“We are not responsible for what happened over a century ago. None of us were alive.”
“The last Southern raid was—”
“Why do we have to give up what we rightly earned for a bunch of shithole nations—”
“That is enough ,” he booms, pushing himself up out of his seat to finally meet him at eye level.
The two just stare each other down for an uncomfortable amount of time, until one of the younger nobles, very bravely clears her throat and says, “Your majesty. Your robes.”
His robes? What’s so important about—
Oh. Fuck.
He’s smoking. He hadn’t even noticed his hand was sparking, igniting his robes and spreading rather quickly.
The man laughs condescendingly at the spectacle of Zuko frantically patting out the flame. “Oh, how far we have fallen. Not even your little sister would have made a blunder like this. What would your mother say?”
The boy has to bite back an audible gasp. He squeezes his eyes shut, then says at a low tone, “We will reconvene tomorrow. Everyone’s dismissed.”
Silence. No one moves.
“I said, dismissed!! ” he demands as the candles coincidentally surge.
Everyone scrambles to leave, even the imposing threat in front of Zuko. But not without another stupid laugh.
Once the last person is out and the door shuts, Zuko takes out his Firelord headpiece and hurls it at the wall before crumbling to the floor, nearly biting his thumb off to keep him from screaming.
-
“That’s the third meeting to end like that! This month!! ” Zuko shouts more than says, nearly shattering the tea kettle from using too much heat too fast.
Iroh says nothing, just hums and continues to wash dirty cups beside his nephew.
“I’m getting real sick of these old fucks treating me like I’m some stupid little kid! You should’ve heard the way he was talking to me, uncle.” He takes his hands away, unable to contain the heat much longer; both hands crackle and pop like a campfire. “He– urghh! It was like I was his son or something! Kept saying he didn’t like my tone, who talks to the Firelord like that?”
“Nephew,” Iroh starts, “...would you like me to braid your hair?”
...
That’s enough to cool him down for a moment. He whips his head towards his uncle, sputtering, furrowing his brow deeper and deeper trying to rationalize ,, what? “Would… what? Braid my hair?”
“It’s gotten so long since the last time I’ve seen you,” the man remarks, cooing as he frames his boy’s face. “You would look so dashing with a braid.”
Zuko should’ve understood long ago how Iroh doesn’t operate on the same plane as everybody else, as he never has, and has never tried to hide that fact. However, Zuko is still flabbergasted every single time he’s reminded.
“...Do you even know how to braid? What— why— when have I— when has any of us ever— why do you—”
“A new hairstyle sounds like just what you need right now. Come, sit.” He grabs a discarded, dusty chair and blows it off, then presents it with a grin.
Zuko’s face scrunches, but he obliges. Very slowly.
Iroh slowly, gently runs his hands through Zuko’s much longer hair. It’s not the perfect ideal braiding length yet, but it’s doable—just past his shoulders. And Iroh’s knuckles still manage to get caught in all the tangles despite its relatively short length. This boy, when was the last time he picked up a comb?
“Isn’t this gross to do right by the tea we serve people?”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he says rather than rebuking his statement, which, damn it, makes Zuko laugh a little bit.
Getting his hair braided is an odd sensation; he’s never had his hair... woven before. That’s not really a style he saw anywhere, much less something he would know how to do from just looking at one.
“Where’d you learn how to braid hair?” he asks, genuinely curious.
“You learn lots of things when you get to be as old as I am.”
Okay. Not what he asked at all.
He sighs. “I wish I was older like you. And I knew all the things you do.”
“It will happen faster than you think, Firelord Zuko.”
He winces at that honorific. “How come the only one who actually sees me as Firelord doesn’t even live in the Fire Nation?”
“Do not mistake the words of one man for the words of everybody.”
He sneers. “That’s the thing. No one in that room said anything . They just let him talk to me like that. If someone said that to my father–” he grunts– “the whole room would’ve torn him to shreds.”
“Maybe they trusted you to resolve the issue.”
Sure they did. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“You are a fine leader, nephew. You are exactly what the Fire Nation needs right now. A young, determined, powerful leader righting the wrongs of your predecessors.”
“I wish they thought that,” he mutters.
Iroh doesn’t respond, just focuses on completing the braid. “There. Finished,” he remarks triumphantly, running his hand over the top of Zuko’s head.
It’s too short to drape over the shoulder and see, but it is very comfortable—he feels as though his head is being gently held together, like puzzle pieces.
“Such a handsome young man.”
Zuko ducks his head. “Uncle…”
“It’s the truth!” the man insists, smiling. “You should wear your hair in a braid more often.”
The boy runs his hand over the entire length of the braid, feeling the ridges and divots. “I’m already too different. I can’t change my hair too.”
“Do you like it?”
“Where would the headpiece go? They already don’t treat me like the Firelord with it.”
“But, do you like it?”
Zuko’s eyes dart to the ground. He swallows. “I can’t see it.”
Iron gently places his hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “There’s a mirror in the bathroom,” he says, matter-of-factly.
He says nothing, and stays put in the chair.
“I think it suits you very well,” the man assures, brushing off Zuko’s back. “I think you know it does, too.”
The boy sighs, then gets up to look at himself in the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Agni, he wants to hate it.
He wants to hate it so bad.
But, wow, it really does suit him.
He takes both his hands and runs them over the top of his head, all the way down to the end of the braid. He likes it. He really does. And it’s nothing he’s ever seen on his father. Damn bonus points.
As he steps back out of the bathroom, his uncle says from across the hall, “You may find this hairstyle you were hesitant to at first may be your new favorite!”
Zuko pauses, then huffs fondly. “Okay, okay, I get it. The elders just need time to get used to a younger, more progressive Firelord,” he deduces, returning to the kettle he’d left unattended for a little too long.
“I actually was just talking about your hair that time, but yes! That too!”
The boy chuckles to himself, reheating the now lukewarm kettle.
-
“How are you holding up, hon?” Katara asks gently, squeezing her brother’s hand.
Sokka just rolls his eyes. “The same as the last time you asked me five minutes ago. I’m fine.”
She shrinks. “Sorry.”
“Look, the best way to make me feel better is to not bring up the fact I’m not doing good.”
“I just want you to know you can talk about it if you want,” she assures, then rubs her thumb around Sokka’s knuckle for some extra support.
He sighs, attempting a smile. “Thanks.”
She opens her mouth to say something else, then decides against it.
The two siblings have been staying in Ba Sing Se for a few days now, courtesy of Katara, who suggested she and her brother needed some time away from everything. More her brother than her—Katara was personally doing fine, however Suki just ended things with Sokka after a rough, miserable good year.
Who knew trying to maintain a long distance relationship from opposite corners of the world with limited communication wouldn’t be fun?
He knew it was coming, but it still really hurt. He can’t even appreciate being in the most extravagant city in the world, not giving shops a second look that he would usually beeline for, yanking his sister along with him.
Katara can’t take it anymore after Sokka doesn’t even look at a sword vendor.
Tui and La, she needs to come up with something and fast.
“I like how you have your hair now,” she settles on. “What made you want to grow it out?”
He instinctively reaches up to touch his hair with his free hand. “Remember right before Sozin’s Comet when none of us had time to cut our hair? That just stuck—I liked the longer look. So I stopped shaving the sides so close. Makes me look older, I think.”
She hums. “It looks good. Makes you look more like Dad.”
That makes him actually smile for the first time in days. “Thanks.”
Katara smiles too.
“You look older with your hair down, too. In a good way.”
She chuckles. “Thanks.”
The two wander aimlessly around the city, Sokka finally taking his eyes off the ground and taking in his surroundings.
It’s beautiful. Especially at night. Especially in the middle of celebrating some Earth Kingdom tradition neither of them are familiar with, and trying to gather context clues from the people and the decorations about what it could be for, or about.
By the end of the night, they’ve gathered it is exclusive to just the city, maybe the city’s anniversary? Something about Ba Sing Se’s history.
Whatever it is, it shows no signs of stopping for at least a few days, so it’s important enough to take up more than just one night.
And spirits help Katara, she is going to get him to smile before the end of it.
-
It’s possible the elders might actually die before they come around to Zuko.
And honestly, he doesn’t know which one he wants to happen sooner.
Today, in particular, he wants the former.
Maybe it’s because he forgot breakfast, or his headpiece was poking him in the wrong spot all day, or maybe because restoring and repairing the Southern Water Tribe is non-negotiable,
Maybe because this old man needs to learn to shut the fuck up,
But when the same man who weaponized his mother against him once again shows his disdain for the Southern Reconstruction Project—in a discussion about Fire Nation school lunches —Zuko can’t find it in himself to control any impulses anymore.
He slams down on the table, hard , and stands upright, glaring at the man.
“Do you wish to keep your job, sir?”
The man, smug as ever, looks up at Zuko, calling his bluff. “You’re going to fire me over a difference of opinion? What will your subjects think of that?”
“How will your family feel when you can no longer support them without your lavish salary?” As he’s saying it, he thinks of a million more dignified things he could’ve said instead of stooping to his level. This is not a difference of opinion, it is right and wrong . We are aiding the Southern Water Tribe regardless of your approval. Anything. Anything besides, ‘oh yeah what about when you’re broke? Huh?’
Even the nobles who do like him are giving disapproving looks right now.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Agni, why did he say that??
“Your father never would never act like this, you know why? Because he was a real Firelord.”
The boy audibly scoffs, locks his elbows. “Awful brave words for someone whose job is in the hands of the fake Firelord.” Spirits, STOP!!! Just ignore him!!!!
He can feel it. Electricity coursing through his fingertips.
“The only mistake Ozai ever made in his reign was going easy on you.”
Ooh, fuck this guy.
“Yeah? You want me to ‘go easy’ on you too?” Zuko seethes, rolling up his sleeves. “You want a scar to match mine?”
And as he plants his feet and lifts his hands toward the man, his gaze finally tears away from his target, and he takes in his surroundings again.
Everyone is out of their chairs, inching closer towards the door. Shoulders up, guards up, eyes unwavering from Zuko.
But what makes him fully snap out of it is the younger nobles, still older than him, but closer in age than anyone else. They’re looking at him like he looked at Ozai before he seared his face off.
No.
No.
Oh no…
He slowly lowers his hands, shaken to his core.
What was he thinking? Agni above, what was he fucking thinking?
Was he seriously going to just open fire on the first person to give him attitude?
“I am… um…”
His hands quickly go behind his back. “That was… I apologize.”
The room is deafeningly silent as he leaves the room, eyes fixated in front of him, not uttering another word.
-
When he looks in his vanity mirror, all he sees is Ozai.
When he was crowned Firelord, he made an oath to himself:
- 1. Right the wrongs of the Firelords before him.
- 2. Introduce and enforce new legislature peacefully.
- 3. Be a leader his subjects do not fear.
Jury’s still out on #2, but… yeah. He’s not doing so good.
How is he any different from his father?
He nearly just did to that old man what Ozai did to him at thirteen: deal irreparable damage because he spoke out of turn at a meeting.
He pulls the Firelord headpiece from his hair and cradles it in his hands.
This has been stained over and over with the blood of other nations for a century—He cannot continue that cycle, now with his own nation.
He will not.
-
Of fucking course Suki is at this random festival in some random street in uptown Ba Sing Se. Of course! Why wouldn’t she be? Because it would be too easy and painless if she wasn’t there for who knows why .
“Oh no,” slips out as Katara registers the girl from across the crowd along with a couple other Kyoshi warriors in plainclothes.
Before Sokka can ask what’s wrong, he hears it.
“Katara!!” the redhead shouts across the sea of people, sticking her arms up to make herself seen. “Katara, is that you!?!! Hi!!”
The sound of her voice sends a shock through his nervous system; makes his blood run cold and hot at the same time; and he feels simultaneously numb and as though he’s being stabbed a million times over and over.
The waterbender panics as Suki quickly approaches, torn between wanting to say hi to her friend she hasn’t seen in ages, and keeping her brother from losing it at the sight of his ex.
Sokka picks up on this immediately. And he, before anything else, is a big brother.
“Go say hi! I’ll be okay,” he assures, fighting for a smile and giving her a little push towards Suki. “I’ll go find some food somewhere, okay?” Which is true. He might not be totally fine, but he will find some food.
And Katara’s only human, so she goes. But not before giving her big brother one last big squeeze.
Then she runs through the crowd, ecstatically calling out her name, and meets her in the middle, engulfing her in a hug.
Sokka doesn’t let himself see or hear anything more than that, sneaking through the crowd, out to the sides to find some reprieve, preferably food.
He’ll somehow find Katara later. They should’ve established a meeting spot. Shit.
Hearing Suki's voice for the first time really did a number. He hadn’t heard it since he went back to the South Pole, and she went back to Kyoshi Island. Hadn’t seen her face since they departed, promising to write as frequently as possible.
He knew it was a bad idea. He thought love could find a way. It didn’t.
Ugh, enough! He’s gotta find some trees to punch or something. No, first, food. What he said he was going to do in the first place. Spirits, when was the last time he ate? Uh oh. Okay, he genuinely can’t remember.
Okay new objective: forget about Suki. Find something to eat.
He quickly adds: prepare to be scolded by Katara for going missing.
He just can’t stay here right now. He can stand getting yelled at tomorrow.
So he sets off on his new mission, but is quickly distracted by this lanky figure draped in black, passing through like a ghost.
Something about it sets him off. Something about this person(?) seems up to no good.
He trails behind the mysterious person, for a few blocks until they turn, revealing part of their hooded face. They look relatively young, perhaps a widow? That would explain the black.
Then the possible widow even further, revealing an awfully familiar scar on the left side of their face.
Sokka stops in his tracks. No way.
It takes a moment for the boy to fully recalibrate and begin walking again to catch back up with the person. He gets another look at the scar, and it’s identical.
“...Zuko?”
The stranger turns their head towards Sokka, and, yup. That’s him. He’d know that tortured scowl anywhere.
“I don’t know who that is,” he retaliates, pulling the hood further over his face.
And, if he really didn’t want Sokka to recognize him, he should’ve at least attempted to mask his voice.
“I know it’s you, buddy.”
He sighs in defeat, turning back around to face Sokka. “Yeah. It’s me.”
Sokka doesn’t wait any longer after the confirmation, lunging forward at him and engulfing him in a bear hug. “I missed you, man! Why are you all the way over here??”
The firebender hesitantly hugs him back, stiff as a board. “Let’s, uh… not here.”
They let go from the embrace, and Zuko’s eyes dart around the crowd, scanning to find anyone who may recognize him, Sokka assumes. Once the coast is clear, the two set off to find somewhere less crowded, more quiet.
They finally find an isolated enough spot, the edge of a rather wide pond, no other people around for what could actually plausibly be a mile.
“Why are you in Ba Sing Se?” Sokka repeats, lowering himself onto the grass.
Zuko sits down next to him, just a little bit too far away that it makes Sokka suspicious. “I... I needed to get out.”
That makes his head turn immediately. “Get out? Are you, like, being targeted? It’s not safe for you to be in the palace??”
He winces, moving his hands in a wishy washy manner. “More… uh… I just needed some time away. To collect myself. To… find myself.”
“And they let you just, leave? With no, like, bodyguards or anything?”
“...uh… well…”
Sokka doesn’t like that. “What do you mean ‘uh well’? …Zuko, they know you’re here, right?”
Sokka really doesn’t like the silence that follows that.
“Zuko. I need you to tell me you didn’t just run off in the middle of the night, and now the Fire Nation is in a panic because their leader just vanished without saying anything.”
“...”
“ Zuko .”
“I almost killed someone in the middle of a meeting,” is what he says next, completely shifting the atmosphere.
“Oh shit,” comes out accidentally.
“I don’t know how I can… what I can do to fix that.”
“I bet they deserved it,” Sokka says in attempts to bring the mood back up. “I’ve almost killed people a ton of times, and it was always justified.”
That finally gets a laugh, albeit small, out of him. “You said it, not me.” He picks at the grass, mood going somber again. “I was doing so good. Remember when Aang and I visited the Sun Warriors? I came back, and I was so… so in control .” He plucks a blade out of the ground, rolls it between his fingers for a moment, then singes it into a pile of ash. “Or even, all the time I spent with my uncle, who does nothing but talk about peace and tea and relaxation…”
“You lost control,” Sokka infers.
The boy nods. “I just got so angry. We’re in the starting process, trying to pitch this project to help restore and fund the Southern Water Tribe, and this geriatric man just will not have it.”
Sokka perks up a bit at the mention of that project, and reminds himself to bring that up again later.
“He spoke out at two meetings in a row about it, and I just couldn’t take it. Before I knew it, I was in first position about to blast his head right off his shoulders.”
That is… an image. Sokka’s been on the other end of that several times, it’s terrifying.
“How does that make me any better than my father?” Zuko asks genuinely, turning his head back to face Sokka.
Sokka can’t help but laugh a little bit, a little ridiculous Zuko could even consider that. “Well, first off, your dad wanted to make himself super-mega-ultra fire king supreme and destroy everything that wasn’t Fire Nation, so… you’re definitely better than him. By, like, a longshot.”
Zuko’s mouth curves upwards ever-so-slightly. “Thanks.” The warmth is only there for a few seconds before his face darkens again. “It just made me feel like I was him. Burning somebody for speaking out of turn in a meeting.”
“Ozai used to do that? Often?”
“How do you think I got this?” he asks darkly, brandishing his left eye.
When realization hits, the back of Sokka’s throat fills with bile and his stomach sinks . “Holy shit…” his hand comes up to hover over his mouth. “Is that actually—? I never knew that, I thought— …I don’t know what I thought.”
He hums. “A permanent reminder to everybody that I was dishonorable.” The firebender squeezes his eyes shut. “Most of those older ones were there when it happened.”
Fuck .
He’s about to go off on some, you didn’t deserve it… you’re strong… yadda yadda… but he stops himself. If Zuko is anything like him, stuff like that makes his skin crawl.
“Why don’t you just fire them?” he suggests, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Isn’t it, though? There are so many young—not even young, just better people that could replace these old ass men so scared of change! Zuko, you literally could say it’s illegal to wear red now, and by tomorrow there wouldn’t be a trace of red in anyone’s closet, because what you say goes!”
He can’t help but laugh. “Okay, I’m not that influential–”
“What I’m saying is, do some spring cleaning! Get rid of all the Ozai sympathizers and go out and interview some new people!” He nudges him, grinning now. “What’s stopping you? Who’s stopping you??”
‘Who’s stopping you’ makes him sit back and truly assess what the hell he’s doing.
“You’re right. You’re right!” He runs his hands over his face. “You’re so right! What the hell, I can just replace them!”
“See?” He gives his friend a playful shove. “I’m so smart!”
Zuko chuckles a little bit, then settles back down. “Alright, enough about me. Why are you here?”
Oh no. His turn.
Sokka sighs. The easiness is gone. For him, at least. “It’s been a rough month or so,” he starts, looking back out at the water. “Katara thought it would be good to get my mind off things, go to the big city for a couple days.”
“You’re here by yourself?”
He eyes him down incredulously. “Aren’t you?”
Zuko nods meekly. “Okay, fair.”
“But, uh… no. She’s here too.”
“Is she with Aang? Is that still going on?”
The waterbender’s brother groans, his irises nearly touching his brain. “Oh it’s still going on, alright.” After a small laugh from Zuko, he collects himself and pulls his knees to his chest. “Aang’s doing Avatar stuff somewhere. No, she’s… we were at this festival thing… but…”
“...but?” Zuko wills.
He shuts his eyes and blows out a cool breath. “Suki and I ended things about a month ago. She was here tonight and ran into Katara. And I just had to leave.”
And– damn it– his stupid lip is trembling without his permission. Now his throat is hurting, and his eyes are starting to well up—
Zuko’s hand on his shoulder pulls him out of it. He looks over at him, and all he’s able to muster is a small, pathetic smile.
The boy frowns. “I know she meant a lot to you.”
Sokka nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, she really did. Still does.” He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath in. “When I saw her tonight… she looked fine. Perfect. Happy. Like nothing happened.”
“I guarantee she’s hurting as much as you are,” Zuko assures, giving his shoulder a small squeeze. “Girls just hide it better.”
He just hums in response.
It’s quiet for a while after that, the two boys looking out at the still water.
Weird how similar their situations are yet how different they are at the same time.
Both are either preparing to be or are actively the formidable leader of their respective nation, both are still teenagers, both are unable to contain their strong emotions to the point where they ran away to the big city—
IDEA!
Sokka jerks up with a gasp. “Zuko!” He turns to face the firebender, grinning ear to ear.
Zuko turns to him slowly, squinting and tilting his head trying to deduce what the hell is about to happen.
“What if I worked for you!?”
That makes him shoot up, a thousand thoughts swirling through his head.
“...what?”
“Yeah! Think about it! You need some young, smart, progressive people… you’re trying to make peace with the other nations… I can represent the Southern Water Tribe! Like, an ambassador!”
Zuko can hardly process everything just thrown at him. “Sokka, that’s a huge change. You’d have to live near the palace. In the Fire Nation. Away from Katara, away from your father, away from your home .”
“I spent a year traveling the world with the Avatar!” he rebuts, waving him off. “I’ll be okay.”
“Wait, aren't you—” Zuko’s face scrunches up. “Aren’t you about to be the next Chief??”
“That’s not for at least ten more years—my dad doesn’t even have gray hairs yet!”
Alright, okay.
He sighs. “I think this is a great idea. I really do.”
“Me too!”
“ But… This is a very big, very rash decision. You just went through a big breakup.”
“Who’s the guy that almost fried someone to a crisp in a meeting?” Sokka retorts a little too quickly, and the second he says it, he immediately freezes up and covers his mouth, cursing himself.
But Zuko… laughs . “Okay, so we’re both a little emotional.”
He immediately releases and laughs with him, thanking all things holy he didn’t just overstep his boundaries with the Firelord.
After a couple seconds, Zuko says, “Tell you what. If, in a month or two, you still want to do this, write to me and we’ll figure it out.”
“ A month or two?” Sokka parrots, groaning.
“If it’s truly that important, your thoughts about it will stay the same after a month or two.”
And, well. He can’t argue with that.
“Hey, so… how does nobody know you’re here?” He asks after a pregnant pause. “How’d you leave without, like, alerting anybody?”
Zuko absentmindedly plays with the short braid at the back of his neck. “Left in the middle of the night. Took an old war balloon. I know all the blind spots.”
All Sokka can do is just sit there, mouth agape, absolutely bewildered.
The AWOL Firelord chuckles softly. “Yeah, they’re gonna kill me when I return.”
“I can’t even… so you… you took a war balloon all the way to Ba Sing Se, and then what? Just dropped it off somewhere?”
“Sank it.”
“Sank—” Sokka has to sit and let that stew for a moment. “Zuko, how are you going to get back?” he says more than asks, knowing the answer.
There he goes, curling into himself, suddenly bashful after all this time. “I… I didn’t think about that.”
The tribesman pinches the bridge of his nose, trying not to laugh. “It is a miracle you’re still here, I hope you know.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
“Sokka!! .... SOKKA!! .... tui and la, Sokka, where are you!!”
Shit! He forgot all about Katara!
“Do NOT tell her I’m here!” Zuko whisper-shouts, curled into himself like some prey animal desperately trying to take cover.
Sokka laughs incredulously when he turns to see the mighty Firelord cowering in fear at the sound of his baby sister’s voice. “She’s not gonna eat you or anything—”
“ She might!”
“Zuko.”
“See, you don’t get it because you’re family, Sokka, I have been on the other end of her fury —”
“Zuko, if you could see yourself right now —”
“ SOKKA???? I know you’re here, unless there’s another Water Tribe boy that has the same small feet you do!!”
Sokka’s jaw hits the ground, while Zuko desperately throws both hands onto his mouth to keep himself from audibly laughing.
He groans, and deduces he has maybe a minute or so before Katara finds him, so he kneels down to Zuko’s level. “Okay, fine. I won’t tell her you’re here. But you’ve gotta get back to the Fire Nation, ok? Swear?”
Sokka holds out his little finger, waiting expectantly. Zuko just stares at it.
“ SOKKA!!!! ” startles them both once more, and he finally bites down and entangles his little finger with Sokka’s.
“I swear.”
“Alright.” He squeezes, then lets go. “I’ll see you in a few months, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Katara!!” He immediately turns and goes to embrace his sister, making Zuko scurry off into the shadows. “I’m so sorry, we should’ve come up with a meeting spot, that’s on me.”
“Spirits, Sokka, I thought you died!!” she scolds him once they let go. “Were you just out here by yourself?”
“...Yes.”
She sighs. “I only talked to Suki for a few minutes, you didn’t have to wander the length of the entire city!”
“Just, needed... to clear my head.”
Katara’s eyes narrow, sensing something up with what he’s saying, but decides not to push. “Well, I found a good place for dinner, if you’re still hungry.”
Shit, he never got food. He laughs as his stomach conveniently growls on cue. “That would be great.”
-
Dear your royal flameyness Firelord Zuko,
It’s been two months! And guess what: I still think it’s a great idea if I came and represented the Southern Water Tribe!
You know what really surprised me? When I told my dad and Katara, they almost immediately said I should do it. I don’t know if I should take that as they want me to get the hell away from them or they know I’ll be such a great ambassador. The second one, right?
I hope you haven’t blown your top off too many times—if you have, nothing’s made it to the South Pole so it can’t be that bad.
Also—how did you ever get back to the Fire Nation? Or did you? Is that why we haven’t heard anything about you? I swear to Tui and La, if you’re still wandering the streets of Ba Sing Se I will come over and drag you to the damn palace myself.
With love,
The Amazing Future Ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe to the Firelord Sokka
-
Zuko rolls his eyes so hard at Sokka’s audacity he nearly discards the letter just to spite him.
Nearly.
He secretly was hoping he’d still be interested because, holy shit does he need help around here.