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Summary
Sokka imagines his friend Zuko, sitting on the throne.
Would he be bored? Would he be serious? Would he get mad?
He thinks of Zuko’s hair carefully swept back from his face, flame crest holding it up and out of his face. He thinks of Zuko’s bangs caressing the curve and gaunt of Zuko’s cheeks. He thinks of how his scar might catch the light and cast shadows on his narrowed eye.
He can’t help but imagine how Zuko’s fair skin would look in the fire’s glow framed by the collar of his official robes.OR
Sokka's wanted nothing more than to fuck Zuko for years.