Work Text:
1. Minh
Minh used to hate having to serve tea during council meetings.
Or well, maybe not so much hate as be utterly terrified by.
Her mother had once told her that servants ought to be invisible, that they need to blend with the background and do their work as efficiently and silently as possible. But it wasn’t possible to be invisible in Ozai’s throne room, not when it was filled to the brim with men too paranoid not to notice the new set of ears in the room.
It was nerve-breaking, coming here and not knowing if she’d hear something that could condemn her to death. And it was a gamble every time because apparently the members of the council found it easier to have people assassinated than to pour their own cups of tea. Really, how hard was it to wait until after they were done discussing things they didn’t want the servants overhearing to ring for tea?
The saddest part was that their attempts at silencing them didn’t even work! After all, everyone knew why the servants that had overheard Lord Zuko’s ‘disrespect’ had suddenly disappeared.
And if she had dared to make a mistake? To spill some tea on the table or worse, on one of the very important men gesticulating wildly without worrying that she was right there with a full pot trying to refill their cups? Well, those very important men would not have been content to simply banish her like Princess Azula had back on the day of Sozin’s Comet, that’s for sure.
Still, now that Lord Zuko’s in charge and has replaced the entire council, things are usually much less tense.
Usually.
Today it looks like the new Fire Lord is trying very, very hard not to set any of his advisors on fire.
“I do not mean any disrespect,” starts a man that, in Minh’s opinion, does very much mean some . “But the boy is too young. We are making decisions that will impact our nation for years to come, we cannot allow a child that’s not yet twenty to weigh in. He simply does not have the experience required.”
He must be aware that he’s talking to their seventeen year old ruler, right?
With more patience than Minh would have, the Fire Lord answers, “Sokka may be young, yes, but his achievements during the war-“
“If you ask me,” rudely interrupts another man who Minh doesn’t believe has ever been asked for his opinion on anything more substantial than the weather, “the idea of having a Water Tribe Ambassador is ridiculous in the first place. The Earth Kingdom I get, we’ll need to secure some supply routes now that we don’t have the colonies, pretending we listen to their advice will be a nice good-will gesture. But what can a bunch of savages provide us with? Ice?”
The man is too busy laughing at his own joke to see that the torches in the room are flickering menacingly.
Minh carefully shifts away from him. Just in case. Lord Zuko’s bending has never been as precise as the princess’, after all.
“Lord Hong,” Lord Zuko starts, and Minh has never heard him sound so calm. “You are an expert on the history of the Fire Nation, are you not?”
The man puffs up, clearly flattered by the question. “I consider myself as such, yes.”
“So you could tell me how many invasions have managed to get inside Caldera City? Let alone the Royal Palace?”
“Four, I believe,” he answers looking confused. “There was a civil war three hundred years ago…”
“In which part of the Council conspired with the rebels and helped them into the city, yes?” Lord Zuko intervenes.
“Exactly,” Lord Hong nods. “Then Fire Lord Tai Lee managed to take the Royal Palace from her brother The Unworthy five hundred years ago…”
“She was so loved by the people that the servants opened the doors for her,” Lord Zuko nods.
“And of course there’s been two invasions by the Earth Kingdom,” Lord Hong continues. “One seven hundred years ago and one fifty years before that.”
“How did the Earth Kingdom manage to get into Caldera?” Lord Zuko asks with feign interest.
“There was a net of traitors that offered up our nation in exchange for titles in the new regime,” Lord Hong sounds disgusted. “Which goes to show the lows the Earth Kingdom will sink to-”
“That’s enough,” Lord Zuko cuts him off. “So, in the last eight hundred years of recorded history, the only invasion that's managed to infiltrate our city, our palace , without inside help has been the one planned and led by the sixteen year old you are so casually dismissing, is that correct?”
Lord Hong splutters. “Well, I mean, I heard that his father…”
“Chief Hakoda is a brilliant strategist and a great leader,” Lord Zuko acknowledges. “But the invasion plan was Sokka’s idea. As was the timing of it. I think he may have been the first person outside the Fire Nation to figure out that our bending goes away during eclipses and to try to use that knowledge against us. In fact, except for the Sage Revolt two hundred years ago, I do not think anyone else has used that glaring weakness against the royal family.”
Seeing as Lord Hong doesn’t seem to have anything else to add, Lord Zuko moves to another target, “Minister Wan, you pride yourself on your strategic mind, do you not?”
The man nods cautiously, “I’ve never met the man who could beat me in a game of Pai Sho.”
“Could you please tell me how you would take down the entirety of the Fire Nation air force?” Lord Zuko inquiries.
Minister Wan’s eyes narrow. “How long would I have to prepare and which resources would I have available?”
“You wouldn’t have any time to prepare, I’m afraid. You would have managed to sneak into an air balloon during launch,” Lord Zuko tells him. “Good news is, you would be in command of an extremely skilled elite warrior and the earthbender that invented metal bending.”
There’s a minute of silence while Minister Wan ponders his answer before shaking his head.
“I do not know how it could be done.”
“But it was done,” Lord Zuko reminds them all. “By Sokka. I suggest you ask him how he did it over a game of Pai Sho, my Uncle assures me he’s an excellent player.”
The minister nods and Lord Zuko moves onto the man sitting next to him.
“General Lang,” he starts. “You trained under Master Piandao.”
“I did,” the general answers. “As did young Sokka, if I’m not mistaken.”
His eyes look more amused than anything else and Minh realizes that he’s one of the few members of the council that hadn’t opposed Lord Zuko’s choice.
“Indeed,” the Fire Lord nods. “How long did it take before you were allowed to forge your own sword? I myself was only deemed worthy after a year of training.”
“Longer than young Sokka, I gather,” the man all but laughs. “It was six months in my case.”
“Two days in Sokka’s,” Zuko answers with a proud smile. General Lang’s eyebrows raise up in surprise. “And by that I mean that Master Piandao trained him for one day and in the second one helped him forge his sword. Sokka used the metal of a meteor for it.”
“Impressive,” the man nods. “Then again, Master Piandao did call him ‘his best student’ so I suppose it makes sense.”
There’s a murmur between the other members of the council, Master Piandao has a reputation as tough but fair and such an endorsement from him is not to be easily dismissed.
Lord Zuko straightens up before addressing his whole council. “As I was saying, Sokka may be young but his achievements during the war far surpass those attained by any person here present. He may lack experience but he makes up for it with intelligence and ingenuity. Not to mention that he’s connected and trusted by the leaders of all four nations, myself very much included. If he chooses to accept my offer, he will join this council as Water Tribe Ambassador. But please, do not worry, I will not hold you all to the same standards as him. As my uncle used to say, there are some fire-orchids that only bloom once every dynasty.”
This time, no one dares protest and Minh has to suppress a laugh. Well, at least the rest of the meeting will be as boring as the ones before. She wonders, though, if Lord Zuko knows that that particular idiom was coined by a Fire Lord that wanted to take a very accomplished peasant as his Fire Lady.
2. Chit Sang
Chit Sang had never, in a million years, thought he’d be working as a member of the Fire Lord personal guard. The idea would have been laughable when he was young and dodging the army recruiters because he didn’t exactly fancy being crushed to death in the Earth Kingdom for no better reason than some rich bastards wanting a bit more land. It would have been even more ridiculous when his refusal to fight the stupidest war in Fire Nation history landed him in the most secure prison in the country.
But life is a funny thing, isn’t it?
And he had found himself fighting side by side with a banished prince, meeting the Avatar and commiserating with the chief of the Southern Water Tribe since they were the only adults surrounded by a bunch of teenagers. Extremely powerful teenagers, but teenagers all the same.
He’s grateful though. Zuko had not only offered him a job but he had also freed his best mate and girl and employed them too. It’s done wonders to speed the whole ‘earning their forgiveness for escaping without them’ thing.
That being said, he doesn't exactly get along swimmingly with all his fellow guards.
The scary-ass girl that had kidnapped the Warden had chosen most of them before returning to her island and she had clearly done a thorough job investigating where their loyalties laid. Several of his colleagues had family in the 41 division, some are from the colonies with one Earth Kingdom parent, and one of two were actually fellow political prisoners that were freed as soon as Zuko took the throne.
All of them are extremely loyal towards the new Fire Lord’s cause and it had taken them half a day to decide that their extremely young, somewhat awkward ruler had to be protected at all cost. And Chit Sang gets it, he does. Everytime he sees that scar on Zuko’s face he has to fight the urge to go have a talk with the former Fire Lord. A long, hard talk.
But his colleagues take it a bit too far.
As in, ‘how dare you call the Fire Lord by his first name Chit Sang? I do not care if he prefers it’ far. Apparently he’s disrespectful and not committed enough to the job and him telling the Fire Lord that he was a moron for trying to chase an assassin on his own was ‘unacceptable’.
As if.
They’ll mellow out, he knows they will. Zuko’s a nice kid and he’s doing a good job but he’s also half feral after so long in exile and has a tendency to just go out on his own like there aren’t weekly attempts on his life. Sooner rather than later, the others will become as fessed up as he is. He just has to wait until the rose-tinted glasses fall off.
Still, it would be nice to have someone to help him tease ‘His Highness’ when he’s pacing around the air docks, checking the time every thirty seconds and glancing longingly towards the sky.
“We could be waiting inside,” he mutters because really, it’s windy today! “Just ask that you are notified as soon as his air balloon is in sight.”
The other two guards look at him in disbelief.
“But it’s Sokka,” Zuko answers like that should explain why they are freezing their balls off.
He rolls his eyes and Li actually elbows him in the ribs. She’s got really pointy elbows too.
“I think I see it!” Zuko says and he’s all but vibrating now.
It takes an excruciating fifteen minutes for the balloon to go from a dot in the sky to an actual object hanging right over them.
“ZUUUUUKOOOOO,” They all hear as soon as the balloon is close enough. There’s a shadow, leaning over the railing precariously.
“Sokka,” Zuko whispers to himself before saying, a lot louder. “SOKKA!”
Sokka laughs, sounding delighted, and Zuko answers it with a smile of his own, far wider than anything Chit Sang has seen from him since the war.
The air balloon is now only a couple meters away and, instead of waiting like a normal person, Sokka decides to hop out right into Zuko’s waiting arms. Chit Sang will really have to write to Hakoda tonight to inform him of his son’s willingness to jump off airships.
He’s thinking about how he’ll describe this scene to him when his fellow guards pull out their swords.
Chit Sang winces, this is not going to end well.
Zuko and Sokka are immediately on guard and both seem to be attempting to push the other behind themselves. Chit Sang has to try really hard to suppress a laugh.
“He’s harmless,” he tells the others. Which is maybe a bit of a lie, he’s seen Sokka fight, he could do some damage if he wanted.
“I am not!” Sokka complains.
“He is,” Zuko confirms at the same time.
“Hey,” Sokka punches the Fire Lord in the arm and the two idiots with swords tense even further.
“You can't do that!” Li splutters.
Sokka frowns but it’s Zuko who talks first.
“Sokka can do as he pleases with me,” he declares with a glare and Chit Sang has to stop himself from choking on his own spite. Something must show on his face because Zuko reddens. “I mean, Chit Sang, tell them about the Boiling Rock.”
“It’s hot and damp, would not recommend it,” he answers trustfully.
“About our escape,” Zuko specifies, rolling his eyes. “On the gondola?”
“Oh that,” Chit Sang nods. “Our esteemed Fire Lord here decided to stay behind to destroy the lever of the damn thing. Afterwards he had the great idea to jump into the boiling water of the lake that gave our little prison its lovely name. Luckily, Sokka managed to grab him and pull him into the gondola before he cooked himself and made his sister the only royal heir.”
“I jumped because I knew Sokka would catch me,” Zuko corrects. Then he levels a look at the other guards. “Sokka is the only reason I survived that day. I’ve trusted him with my life countless times and will continue to do so. You are not allowed to attack him no matter what.”
“But, if he tries to hurt you-” Song starts.
Zuko cuts him off. “He could run me through with a sword and you would not be allowed to raise your weapons against him, is that clear?”
“Aww, you really do trust me, don’t you?” Sokka teases him. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll try to attack you.”
“You better,” Zuko answers. “I haven’t had a good sparring partner since the war ended. People either suck or are too afraid to fight me properly.”
They continue bickering while they make their way towards the palace with Chit Sang and his colleagues trailing behind.
“Chit Sang,” Li calls out to him. “You’ve known both of them for a long time…”
She looks a bit awkward so Chit Sang takes pity on her.
“I’ve had my suspicions that Zuko wouldn’t mind getting stabbed by Sokka’s sword since the escape if that’s what you are asking.”
Song looks completely outraged but Li laughs so Chit Sang pays him no mind. Well, maybe he won’t have to wait quite so long to start getting along with his colleagues after all.
3. Wan
Minister Wan is a bit disappointed.
Since the Fire Lord had endorsed the Water Tribe boy so vehemently, he had expected him to be someone remarkable, especially with Master Piandao apparently also regarding him very highly.
And yet here he is, doodling on his notes instead of paying attention during his first official meeting as Water Tribe ambassador.
Well, Wan supposed he can’t completely blame him, it’s not like it’s the most interesting meeting they've ever had. And, since they are discussing reparations towards Tianjo, a small town in the Earth Kingdom, it’s not technically young Sokka’s business.
Still, a good strategist would know to pay attention to any information available and a good politician would be weighing in and attempting to curry favor with one or both of the parties currently in conflict.
It seems like Chief Hakoda’s son is neither.
What a shame.
Wan turns his attention towards Hong's latest attempt to self-immolation. The idiot seems to be completely unable to read the room and has been arguing against offering any reparations at all, while casually insulting the Earth Kingdom ambassador too for good measure.
The fire in the torches flickers again and Wan has to suppress a sigh. If Hong keeps going on like this, he’ll be out of the council before Wednesday and Wan will lose the pot. He curses himself for being stupid enough to believe the moron would be able to last a whole week longer.
“Really,” Hong says, mercifully concluding his speech. “Considering how many advancements we’ve brought them and how much we invested on their infrastructures, we should be the ones getting paid!”
He laughs but no one joins him, everyone looking at the Fire Lord, waiting to see what his reaction will be.
Hong frowns, seemingly to finally realize that he’s in the minority and he looks around the room, trying to find someone that will back him up. Even the people that align with his views make sure to avoid making eye contact with him. This seems to agitate the man a bit but then his gaze falls on the Water Tribe boy, who’s still happily scribbling on his notes and very clearly not paying attention to what's going on around him.
Hong's smile grows a bit more sly.
“Don’t you agree, Ambassador Soka?” he asks, unable to keep the mockery out of his voice when addressing him by his title.
Wan hopes that the boy will at least be smart enough not to agree out of inertia and throws a side-glance towards the Fire Lord, trying to gauge his level of worry.
The Fire Lord is trying, really hard, to hold down a smirk.
He’s very bad at it. Wan hopes he’ll manage a better poker face when they next meet with the Earth King, his ‘I’m trying very hard to listen to you patiently but I really believe you are embarrassingly stupid’ expression is extremely easy to read and could cause a diplomatic incident.
“Well,” Sokka says, still keeping his eyes on the scroll in front of him. “Your argument has made me consider things differently.”
Hong smiles and Wan has to stop himself from face-palming. The boy cannot be this green, can he?
“You mentioned the infrastructure improvements,” the boy continues and suddenly he raises his head, his gaze far sharper than Wan was expecting. “I’m assuming you meant the reforms of the dam? And the expansion of the harbor?”
Hong frowns, looking a bit unsure now.
“Yeah,” he says hesitantly. “Exactly.”
Sokka nods and gestures towards his notes.
“Last night, I took the liberty of browsing a couple of reports regarding Tianjo,” he explains, handing them all one of the scrolls he’d been working on during the meeting. “Please, excuse my handwriting, I was in a rush. But as you can see, I’ve included the budget of both projects, as well as the cost of having a standing army and diplomatic force in Tianjo, and any other miscellaneous investments I found recorded in your archives. You are more than welcome to double-check my calculations but this should cover all the money the Fire Nation has sent to Tianjo.”
The handwriting is atrocious but the numbers are pretty clearly laid out and tally up to a very large sum, though not nearly quite as large as the one resulting from the second column.
“Would this be the money Tianjo has sent to the Fire Nation?” Wan asks, calmly pointing at it.
Sokka turns his intense gaze towards him.
“Well, it’s just an estimation, of course,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck in an attempt at faux modesty that does not suit the smirk forming on his lips. “I took into account the taxes collected as well as the profit from the extraction of minerals, plus the difference between the salary paid to the Earth Kingdom miners with what they used to earn before the invasion. As for the cost of the earth-benders that got taken from the city, I based those calculations on the illegal slave trade that some of the Fire Nation nobility established. The problem is that, since it was not regulated, those prices fluctuated a lot so I decided to use a conservative approach and settled on the lowest price recorded. I could not find a way to quantify the death toll or the trauma inflicted on the population so I left those very important factors out. Still, since Lord Hong wanted to know my opinion on the matter, I would propose the Fire Nation send, at the very least, the difference between the money invested and the money received.”
“This is thrice what they were asking!” Hong says indignantly.
“Perhaps we were being too lax,” nods the Earth Kingdom Ambassador who seems extremely interested in the calculations Sokka has provided. He’s pulled out some of his own documents and an abacus and seems to be comparing the numbers. “I would ask the Fire Lord for a small recess, so I can look over the information provided by Ambassador Sokka before resuming the negotiations.”
“Of course,” the Fire Lord says magnanimously. “I would also like to review a couple of things. Some of the investments sent seem unordinary large for such a small city as is the percentage of the tax revenue the local government held back. Mayhaps an audit on these accounts would not be remiss, especially if you’d be so kind as to share whatever documents the Earth Kingdom has regarding Tianjo?”
The Earth Kingdom Ambassador, who, like most of his nation, hoards his paperwork jealously, nods distractedly and, to the gasp of several witnesses, hands his own papers to one of the Fire Lord’s clerks.
The Fire Lord gestures for them to be brought to him and sends a small smile in the direction of a very pale Councilwoman Yang. That puzzles Wan until he remembers that her cousin was awarded stewardship over Tianjo.
Interesting.
What’s even more curious is that young Sokka doesn’t look particularly surprised and he also throws a smug smile at the councilwoman.
Wan has to stop his eyebrow from raising in surprise. It looks like what he thought was a simple reparation meeting has turned into the perfect trap to root out some of the corruption still present in the new regime.
It’s a good idea but not one their new, idealistic Fire Lord would have come up with on his own. In fact, now that Wan’s aware that something is amiss, he notices that the Fire Lord’s words had sounded unusually stilted and overtly formal, almost as if they had been rehearsed.
Young Sokka, very unsubtly, sends the Fire Lord a thumbs up half hiding it under the table and the Fire Lord perks up before dismissing the meeting.
Wan takes his time gathering his things, just in case the show isn’t over yet.
Soon enough, Councilwoman Yang approaches the Fire Lord.
“I would beg a word, Your Highness,” she says, keeping her gaze respectfully on the floor.
The Fire Lord is too young to be able to fully hide his annoyance but he stops his conversation with young Sokka to nod at her.
“I wanted to assist you in resolving your doubts about Tianjo,” she says, and Wan will have to admit that she is brave to even try this. In her place, he’d already be packing up his things and moving his family out of Caldera. “This is beneath your station, please let this humble servant be the one to review the documents. With the aid of my cousin, I’ll find answers to any questions you may have.”
“I’ve taken an interest in the matter,” the Fire Lord says in clear dismissal. “I’ll review the Earth Kingdom documents myself.”
Councilwoman Yang twitches, but her voice is still deferential when she say, “The Earth Kingdom is notorious for doctoring their documents and for their sloppy accounting, you should not believe-”
She is interrupted by a snort.
“Sorry, sorry,” says young Sokka, trying to stifle his laughter. “It’s just, I’ve been to Ba Sing Se, if there’s something the Earth Kingdom takes seriously, it’s paperwork. I assure you that their accounting is anything but sloppy. A drag, for sure. Excessive, too. But not sloppy.”
“I would ask the Water Tribe Ambassador to refrain from weighing in on matters that do not concern him,” councilwoman Yang says and Wan sighs again, there goes his second bet, he’d thought she would manage to hang on for a month!
“Sokka’s part of the council,” the Fire Lord says coldly. “It’s his job to advise me on such matters.”
“Of course,” she admits. “But I’d advise the Fire Lord to consider in which cases the opinion of a foreigner is pertinent, especially from one so far removed from your esteemed station.”
“I think she just called me a peasant,” Sokka muses though he doesn’t look too offended. “It seems to be a thing in the Fire Nation. You and Azula both used to call me that too.”
The Fire Lord looks actually quite embarrassed at that reminder and he awkwardly clears his throat.
“Do you want a title?” he offers, and for once he actually sounds his age. “I mean, as Hakoda’s son you should be technically considered as the Crown Prince of the Southern Tribe-”
“Doesn’t work like that, buddy,” Sokka interrupts. “And I don’t need a title. I’ll just have to convince you blue-bloods that my opinion matters even without one.”
His tone is joking but his eyes are dead serious and Wan, whose own father was a humble tailor, has to suppress a smile.
Councilwoman Yang seems to realize the battle is lost so she makes her apologies and leaves the room in a hurry, not that the Fire Lord notices.
“You’ve already convinced me ,” he admits in a soft voice. “And I don’t imagine you’ll have any trouble with the others. Anyway, the offer still stands, if you ever want a title, just let me know. You’ve earned it with this meeting alone, I’m sure half the council will agree that getting Hong to shut up is worth at least a lordship.”
It’s unprecedented for a Fire Lord to make such a broad offer, then again, this Fire Lord has proven himself quite unusual.
Young Sokka doesn’t seem interested though, he casually looks around the room but his gaze falls on Wan far too quickly for it to not be purposeful. Wan winces, maybe he hadn’t been too discreet with his observing, and he’d definitely been too focused on their conversation since it’s only now he’s noticing he’s the only member of the Council still around.
He clears his throat.
“ Lord Sokka,” he says, since technically that title comes at least implied with the Ambassador’s job and he’s not above a bit of flattery. “Excuse me the impertinence, but I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to join me for a game of Pa Sho if you ever find yourself with some spare time?
The young man’s eyes shine with excitement and Wan leaves the room with a match scheduled and a newfound respect for the Fire Lord’s eye for talent.
4. Fat
It’s been a blessed month.
A month in which the master’s annoying favourite disciple has not come to bother them even once .
Fat had missed the quiet.
It won’t last, of course. He only has one more month of peace before the hurricane chief Hakoda names son returns.
Once again, Fat finds himself rueing the day the Fire Lord offered the brat a place in his council. He also, and silently (he’d like his head to stay on, thank you very much) curses the Fire Lord himself. Youthful naivety can only excuse so much and Sokka’s move to Caldera City has doomed Fat into putting up with him weekly.
Oh well, at least the master is happy.
He won’t admit it, of course, but he always makes Fat serve the good cookies when Sokka comes calling, and his mood is always lighter after sparring with the boy.
Not too many of his former apprentices come to visit. And the ones that do tend to be the ones the master hadn’t liked. So Fat never complains when Sokka appears on their doorstep, calling him ‘butler’ and asking for tea. Still, this small vacation has been very much appreciated.
“We’ll have a visitor this afternoon,” Master Piandao informs him during breakfast.
Fat fights the urge to rub his lucky pendant when he asks, “Oh? Is Sokka back ahead of schedule?”
Master Piandao actually looks a bit crestfallen when he shakes his head. “No, it’s another visitor. Do we still have some of that jasmine tea Shizu Yao sent us?”
Fat nods, that tea is usually reserved for important visitors with prickly palates (by which Fat means the Dragon of the West).
“Good,” Master Piandao says. “Iroh would not forgive me if I served his nephew a subpar brew.”
His nephew.
The Fire Lord.
Fat has hours before the leader of their nation, a man raised in the royal palace with its scores of servants, comes knocking at their door. When was the last time he dusted? They do have the nice tea set clean, don’t they? The only cookies in the house are the ones he bought three days ago, will the Fire Lord find them too stale?
So little time, so much to do.
Master Piandao observes him with amusement while sipping from his teacup and it’s only the years of trust and respect between them that stop Fat from glaring at him.
Somehow, he manages to get the house into pristine condition and to acquire the good pastries from the market before the Fire Lord knocks on their door. Or well, he doesn't exactly knock. Fat’s pretty sure he just jumped the yard’s walls. He’s also come alone and he’s wearing an old cloak that does nothing to hide his identity considering the scar covering half his face.
Still, as always, the young Fire Lord behaves politely, thanking Fat for the tea and praising their home before greeting the master with the respect and ceremony he deserves. Fat can’t help but notice how different he is from the Water Tribe boy.
The master makes the Fire Lord practice calligraphy with him after tea. The young man’s strokes are, as always, precise and tidy if maybe lacking a bit in charm. He’s chosen the character for ‘yearning’ and it’s perfectly legible and clear on the paper without any ink smudge or the imprint of a face.
Afterwards they move to the training grounds.
The Fire Lord has improved immensely and his dao clash against Master Piandao’s sword in a gracious fight. The master has, as always, the upper hand but lord Zuko strokes are a lot more certain and fluid than they were as a child. He’s also learned how to mesh the moves Master Piandao taught him with other fighting styles and even the master seems impressed when he channels his firebending into the swords.
They fight several rounds, which is a clear sign that the master is intrigued at the blend of swordsmanship and bending that the Fire Lord has invented, and the young man makes sure to thank him for each and every match.
“Your travels abroad have done you good,” Master Piandao tells him when they sit down for more tea.
The Fire Lord nods.
“I learned a lot,” he admits. “But that was only possible because I had a solid foundation to build on. ”
The master smiles, looking pleased, and serves Lord Zuko more tea.
“Have you been learning other weapons?” he asks with polite curiosity. “Some of the moves you used seemed inspired by staff wielding techniques.”
The Fire Lord perks up at the question.
“Me and Sokka have been training together,” he explains excitedly. Then he winces, before clearing his throat. “I mean, the Ambassador and I have decided to further our education on martial arts around the world and have been attempting to master the weapons available to us in my armoury. At least the ones we can find teachers for.”
“Do let me know if I can be of assistance,” Master Piandao’s eyes are also shining so Fat resigns himself to the idea that there will be even more Sokka in his future. “I briefly studied the morningstar in my youth, and I’m passable with the maze, the lance and the urumi.”
“I will be sure to invite you to the palace to review the weapons available and, of course, will welcome any wisdom you may decide to share with us about any of them,” the Fire Lord tells him.
This seems to please the master.
“I will be glad to examine the famous swords of our people, once again,” he musses. “Especially, Yoru, I was always fond of the dark blade.”
Lord Zuko winces, looking a bit sheepish.
“I do not have Yoru anymore,” he admits, refusing to meet their eyes. “I gave it away as part of a cultural exchange of weapons with another nation.”
Fat knows he shouldn't say anything, it’s beyond rude of him to interrupt a conversation between his master and a student, especially if said student is the Fire Lord.
Still, “You gave away the sword of Fire Lord Ta Yang?” he asks incredulously. “The dark blade of legends that was wielded by the warrior sage Meng Yao?”
Master Piandao raises a hand, stopping his questions.
“To which nation?” he asks curtly, though Fat can’t see how it matters.
“The Water Tribe?”
“And I’m assuming that they’ve given it to their best swordman?” Master Piandao asks, seemingly a bit more relaxed. “I do hope they aren’t storing it. As magnificent as Pakku assures me their palaces are, I’m not certain the blade would survive the humidity and coldness of the poles, steel does poorly in those kinds of climates.”
“Oh no, they aren’t storing it. Their culture favors using weapons over hanging them uselessly on walls, or so I’ve been repeatedly told.” The Fire Lord rolls his eyes and Fat would think him rude, if he wasn’t sure it wasn’t in response to a memory of Sokka.
"That's alright then,” Master Piandao decides. “Tell Sokka to bring it next time he visits me.”
It’s not alright!
Fat bites his tongue but something must show on his face because the Fire Lord turns his justifications towards him.
“Sokka lost his space sword in the fight against my father,” he explains, though both Fat and Piandao already knew as much. The boy had actually come to apologize to the master for it. Really, if that kid wanted to apologise so badly, he should have picked something that was actually his fault, like always tracking mud into the hallways! “I tried looking for it but it fell into the sea.”
Fat still doesn’t see why that means that the brat should get to claim a national treasure but well, it’s not like it makes any difference to him personally if the sword is on the palace armory or hanging on the menace's back.
“What did they trade in return?” he asks, genuinely curious.
“A boomerang carved on the fang of a huge arctic hippo-tiger,” Zuko answers, and his eyes shine with excitement. “It’s beautiful and legend has it that Avatar Kuruk was the one to slain the beast. And he also carved the weapon himself, using a mixture of all four bendings as well as the traditional craftsmanship of the Water Tribes. My chief historian almost wept when he saw it and has forbidden me from taking it out of the treasury."
He pouts at that admission and Fat tries to erase the image of their young Fire Lord yeeting a priceless artifact created by an Avatar into a tree from his mind.
“That’s probably wise,” Master Piandao says, clearly thinking along the same lines. “It is a weapon only masters should use. Have you attempted to learn the boomerang, then?”
Zuko nods, and shifts his clothes to reveal a far humbler version of the weapon that he’s got strapped into his hip.
“Sokka made this one for me,” he admits softly. “He’s been teaching me, though, of course, my skill with it is still far below his.”
“It’s a peculiar weapon,” Master Piandao says with a small thoughtful frown. “I admit I never quite saw the charm in it.”
“Has Sokka never used it against you?” Zuko asks, looking completely flabbergasted.
Master Piandao shakes his head. “I assume you’ve had the honor.”
Zukko nods though his face grows somber. “Yeah, I did. He managed to knock me down with it. Afterwards, I was always very aware of where the damn thing was during combat. It has a tendency to catch you unawares.”
“I’ve never wielded a more reliable weapon,” he continues, and he distractedly caresses it with a finger. “It doesn't matter where you throw it, it always comes back. I admit I can’t cause much damage with it yet but I saw it defeat an assassin strong enough to swat me and the Avatar away like flies. It can be a formidable weapon, but it has to be employed properly. It’s also very flexible, it has an edge but it can also be used as a bludgeoning weapon and it tends to disappear and attack from a front your enemies are not guarding. I admit, it took me a while, but it’s become a favorite of mine.”
“Oh,” Master Piandao says, eyes widening slightly in understanding. “A tricky weapon, not powerful but extremely versatile. Deadly in the hands of a master, yet very easy to underestimate.”
Zuko nods.
For Fat’s peace of mind, he’s going to pretend they are still talking about a boomerang.
Masters Piandao smiles softly before admitting, “I suppose I could be persuaded to see your point. I may ask Sokka for some lessons myself.”
Lord Zuko doesn’t stay for long afterwards, insisting that if his ‘escape’ lasts for much longer, the head of his guard will come to personally drag him home by the ear. Fat and Master Piandao laugh politely at his joke and see him off with as much ceremony as the boy lets them get away with.
Master Piandao is silent the rest of the day.
It isn’t until he is contemplating the moon from his favourite spot on the balcony that he finally lets Fat in on his thoughts.
“Prince Zuko was my most dedicated student,” he says. “Hardwordking, relentless and sacrificed. If I told him to do a hundred repetitions he would do three hundred just in case. He listened to my words and followed my instructions to the letter.”
Fat doesn’t answer, it’s not unusual for the Master to ruminate on the changes and characteristics of the fighting styles of his students and he clearly has been doing so since the Fire Lord left.
“That was good but it left him somewhat lacking originality,” Master Piandao continues. “He got stuck on one way of doing things and kept at it without wondering if there was a better one. His travels have helped him in that regard, he asks more questions now, though I think his answers are usually still quite straightforward. His temper has also calmed a bit, though he’s still impulsive when pushed in a corner.”
Fat nods again.
“Sokka, on the other hand, always looked for a better way to the one I was teaching him. He heard the essence of what I was saying and attempted to improve on it,” the Master smiles, amused more than disrespected. “He was clever enough that he usually managed to find an option that worked and he was respectful enough to stay true to the core of what I was teaching him. It was an experience, having him as my apprentice. For better or worse, I’ve truly never had a student as creative or resourceful as him.”
That’s a very generous way of phrasing things, as far as Fat is concerned.
“That being said, all his intelligence did make him somewhat lazy about what he thought were meaningless chores. Why carry the water from the well when you can build an aqueduct? Well, sometimes the carrying is the point, not the water . But it was difficult to convince him of that, when he was so sure his solution was more ingenious.”
Not to mention that sometimes the aqueduct construction disturbs the lives of people that were more than happy to make a single trip for water a day.
“His dedication to the goal was without question, of course, he just wanted to get to it in the most speedy and efficient way possible.” The master smiles softly, putting down his teacup. “He was also far from impulsive. On the contrary, when he was cornered, Sokka made sure to see all the angles, all the options, and sometimes, that stopped him from taking any.” Master Piandao shakes his head. “I think the war has also helped him curve that habit.”
Then the master laughs long and loud and, after he has calmed down, turns to face Fat staring intensely at him.
“Tell me,” he asks with more glee than Fat has ever heard from him, “what do you think happens when infinite drive meets boundless creativity?”
“A lot,” Fat answers, and suddenly fears for the future of their nation.
“A renaissance ,” the master corrects him.
He gets up, and grabs his sword, apparently feeling still too energized to go to bed.
Before he leaves for the training grounds, though, he gazes at the moon once more and musses more to himself than to Fat, “It really is a perfect marriage.”
He means a marriage of styles, right? Yeah, he cannot have meant… No, Fat is being ridiculous.
5. Azula
Azula is bored.
She’s so bored, in fact, that she’s almost looking forward to his brother’s weekly visit.
Which, ew, she really can’t believe she’s fallen so low that she’s willingly (even eagerly) spending time with her idiot of a brother.
And Zuzu is an idiot. Only an idiot would have kept her alive after taking over.
He didn’t even put her in prison!
No, instead she is forced to endure this annoyingly comfortable room where there’s not an edge in sight and everything is painted in ‘calming’ colours that make her want to scream.
And she had screamed. She had screamed a lot during the first days of her confinement. She had thrown and broken stuff and tried to hit herself against the wall. Zuzu had just calmly had her stuff replaced and had ordered her walls to be padded.
It had been so infuriating that Azula had had to scream some more.
But now she has a plan.
If she can’t brute force her way out (and annoyingly, she can’t since Zuzu was at least smart enough to block her chi’s) then she’ll just have to trick her brother into letting her go. It’s not even going to be that hard! All she’s had to do was behave these past few months, actually talk about her childhood and stuff with the ‘very nice people’ Zuzu had invited and done some meditative exercises, and her brother’s attitude has gone from weary to tentatively hopeful.
The fool had even looked proud when Azula had confessed that she’d taken up fan painting because, really, what else is she supposed to do with her time? It’s not like she is allowed to go outside and she has very few visitors.
Only one, in fact.
Not that Azula cares. Actually, she’d be happier if Zuzu stopped bothering her entirely!
He’s annoying and nagging and needy . And Azula could get her news about the outside world from other people, she does have servants and nurses, after all! And she even receives letters sometimes.
It’s weird having Mai write to her. Mai has never made any attempt to hide that their friendship was mostly motivated by her parents' interest. Sure, she’d liked the chance to let loose and not be blamed for it since ‘she was following the princess’ orders’ but she always acted like being with Azula was more of a drag than an honor.
Maybe she’s just hedging her bets? Playing nice so when Azula gets out (and she will get out) she isn’t executed like the traitor she is? Or maybe she thinks that being a ‘good friend’ to Azula will win her brownie points with her wet blanket of a brother. Yeah, that’s probably it. Manipulating Zuzu is pretty easy and Mai has never been above it.
Ty Lee hasn’t written.
Ty Lee hasn’t visited.
Ty Lee hasn’t even passed along a message through Zuzu or Mai.
Ty Lee disappeared, once again, as soon as Azula’s back was turned.
She’s always been good at running. Running away from her parents, running away from home. Running away from Azula when she was at her most bored. When Zuzu was gone and Mai was gone and Mother was…
Zuzu and Mai are idiots and traitors but they hadn’t wanted to leave Caldera City. Not the first time, at least.
But Ty Lee had . Ty Lee always chooses to leave.
Azula knows that she’s off with her new girlfriends, wearing make-up and learning how to fight with frilly little fans. Zuzu had been the one to tell her. For some reason, her brother thought she’d be interested!
Well, Azula hopes she has fun. She better make use of these precious months of freedom because when she breaks out, the first thing she’ll do is put her back in prison where she belongs. Let’s see if she can leave that .
Azula frowns, realizing that her last stroke has been way too wide, ruining the lotus flower she was working on and thus throwing off the whole picture she’s been painting for a whole week.
Oh well, it’s not like she needed a fan with the turtle-duck pond. It was an insipid concept anyway, for her next work, she will paint the throne room.
She sets the half finished product aside and makes a note to ask Zuzu for more blank fans as soon as he arrives. Then she gets up and starts running some katas as a way of meditation. Her chi is still mostly blocked but the days of meditation have allowed her enough circulation to store some fire on her veins. It’s not much but it should allow her one single attack.
Just one.
She hopes it will be enough.
She hates to admit it, even to herself, but having so little fire at her disposal makes her feel vulnerable. She’s good at hand-to-hand combat, of course, but she realizes now that she’s always been over-relying on her bending. Perhaps she should have learned a weapon like Zuzu did. Back then, it had seemed like a waste of time but she will allow that, in this particular case, following in her brother’s footsteps would not have been the worst idea.
Still, one attack should be enough to defend herself the day one of her nurses snaps and attacks her in revenge for some ancient grudge or perceived slight against their precious Fire Lord. It will happen sooner or later. After all, Zuzu’s filled the palace with people angry at their father and everyone knows who his favourite was.
Zuzu arrives not long after she’s done, bringing some sweet pastries that neither of them truly like but that were a favourite of their mother and always present on her tea table.
He’s such a sap.
“Hello, Azula,” he says a bit awkwardly.
“You again,” Azula answers, grabbing one of the cakes and biting into it. “Don’t you have better things to do with your time?”
Zuzu snorts.
“Not really. It’s either visiting you or meeting with the Earth Kingdom Ambassador to talk about wheat tariffs,” he confides.
Azula finds herself smiling despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction, “I guess I can see why even visiting me was considered the better option then.”
Zuzu grimaces, for some reason not liking her answer even though Azula was just continuing his joke.
“He’s driving me insane,” he confides, seemingly deciding to let whatever stupid thing that bothered him go. “I’m pretty sure he’s shortchanging us but I can’t prove it because we haven’t had diplomatic relationships with them for over a century so all our ledgers are really out of date.”
“Of course they are shortchanging you!” Azula says, rolling her eyes. “That’s what negotiating is for! They’ll try to come up top and then you try to come up top and you argue until neither of you is satisfied with the result. You know that! We received the same stupid lessons.”
Granted they were more geared towards negotiations within the Fire Nation but the basic concepts should be transferable.
“I just don’t see why we can try to work together so both sides get a win,” Zuzu protests.
“That’s because you are naive,” Azula politely points out.
Now Zuzu’s the one to roll her eyes at her, like he has any right to. “Okay then, what would you do?”
Azula is tempted to tell him that she’d just burn the ambassador to ashes just to see the face he makes in response.
She also considers telling him to deal with this himself. He’s the Fire Lord, after all.
But she’s playing nice, she reminds herself. She has to convince Zuzu that she’s reformed.
“Don’t you have advisors for this type of thing?” she asks, because reformed or not, there’s no way any version of herself would make this easy on Zuzu and Zuzu knows that.
“Half of them are useless and most are just out for themselves.”
“Duh, they are advisors .”
Azula rolls her eyes at him one last time for good measure and launches into an explanation on how she would diplomatically screw over the Earth Kingdom. It’s not like it’s hard, okay? Zuzu had left some of the pertinent documents over last time he visited because her brother’s a scatterbrain at the best of times and nowadays eternally stressed. And Azula had read them, of course. She needs to know what kind of mess her brother is making of their country for when she takes over.
She also briefly controlled Ba Sing Se. She knows what taxes they collect from their people and the trade agreements they have with other cities. It’s easy to extrapolate what conditions the Earth Kingdom will be able to accept from that. Though she makes sure to tell Zuzu to start at a far higher point because, knowing her brother, he’ll be talked down to half what she proposes otherwise.
Zuzu nods and interrupts her sometimes to redirect her or give his (surprisingly well founded, not that Azula will tell him that) opinion every now and again but he mostly just lets her rant.
“Thank you,” he says after she’s done. “That actually will be very helpful.”
“Of course it will,” Azula grumbles. “Only one of us is capable enough to lead this nation and it’s certainly not you.”
Zuzu frowns and opens his mouth to argue (for all he puts on a very convincing goodie two shoes act these days, he’s still an argumentative brat if Azula manages to push him far enough) when there’s a knock on the door.
Her brother visibly perks up. “Oh, that’s Sokka.”
“The Water Tribe peasant?” she asks because her brother's friends are not worth her remembering their names.
“Don’t call him that. It’s rude. Also he’s the Ambassador of the Water Tribes now.”
Well that explains why her brother’s been in such a good mood these past few weeks.
“So what? Are you late for a meeting or something?”
If he has to leave, Azula won’t be the one to stop him. It’s just annoying, is all. She had mentally prepared herself for having to deal with Zuzu for twice this long, now she’ll be jittery until next week.
“Of course not,” Zuzu tells her. “I just thought maybe you’d want to properly meet him. He’s living here now and has more free time than I do, so, if you want, he can come have tea with you sometimes.”
Yeah, because that’s what Azula needs, another babysitter. And one who’s probably still bitter with her for bragging about capturing his girlfriend.
“I’ll pass,” she says as dryly as she can.
“Are you sure?” Zuzu presses, like Azula should give this stupid idea even more thought than she already has. “I think you’d get along. You are very similar in some ways.”
“Excuse me?” Azula has never felt as insulted.
“Well, you are both great at strategy,” Zuzu flounders.
“I conquered Ba Sing Se in under a week,” Azula reminds him. She’s the greatest mind of their generation and Zuzu better not forget it!
“He took down our airfleet in like half an hour,” Zuzu counters. “Just give him a chance. He’s great, I promise.”
Azula groans but makes a ‘go ahead’ gesture with her hand.
She truly is bored, is the thing.
And if the Water Tribe peasant is such a great strategist, maybe Azula should have a talk with him and see where he stands. It wouldn’t do for her escape plan to be delayed because one of Zuzu’s little friends has decided to pay him a visit, after all.
Zuzu smiles blindingly and goes to open the door himself. Like they don’t have servants for that type of thing.
The boy is as unremarkable as Azula remembers. He’s grown a bit, she supposes, more in broadness than in height, and he seems to be even more tan than the last time they met. He’s dressed in his tribe’s colours but the fabric is obviously from the Fire Nation which Azula supposes makes sense, she hardly expects the boy to want to boil himself alive by wearing furs.
All in all, Azula is not impressed.
“Hello,” he tells her. “Long time no see.”
Azula does not dignify him with an answer.
“Right,” The Water Tribe peasant doesn’t seem too offended. "I see you are as sociable as ever. I suppose silence is better than your usual mocking condescension."
Azula’s temper flares up but she pushes it down.
“I changed my mind,” she tells Zuko who’s fumbling about, clearly not equipped to direct this conversation. “I don’t want him here.”
The rude peasant has the nerve to smirk at that. “Didn’t take you for a coward, princess. Can’t handle a bit of bantering when setting the opponent on fire is not an option?”
“I can handle anything,” Azula declares. “I just don’t see why I should have to put up with you in my room. ”
“Okay,” the peasant shrugs. “I’m off, then.”
He makes to get up but Zuzu grabs him by the arm.
“Sokka, please,” he says softly.
The peasant looks away from him, but sits back down and sheepishly rubs his arm where Zuzu had grabbed him.
“Fine, fine,” he says. “I guess I could stay for a game of Pa Sho. If princess short-fuse over there would deign to play me, of course.”
There’s a refusal on the tip of Azula’s tongue. There’s also several nasty insults. But then Zuzu turns his pathetic pleading eyes in her direction and she has to remind herself that she’s playing at being reformed.
Not to mention that, while crushing the peasant in a board game will probably not be as satisfying as it would be to do so in a fight, at the very least it should wipe his stupid smirk off his even stupider face.
“Fine,” she acquiesces.
It’s not like it’s going to be hard.
Even their failure of an uncle admits that she’s very gifted at this game. As boring as she’s always found it, she’s never had any trouble winning. It’s just frustrating, having to adhere to its stupid rules and take turns. Real battles don’t work like that. No, real battles allow for creativity. That’s why they are so much more fun.
Still, she’s not going to have any problem putting the foreigner peasant back in his place.
Except, Azula loses.
It’s a close match but what does that matter?
Azula loses.
“No,” she says, realizing that in three moves it will be Sokka’s victory and that there’s nothing she can do about it. “No.”
“Ha,” Sokka answers with a smile. “You had me sweating there, I won’t lie, but it seems all those games with Old Wan have paid off.”
It’s wrong.
Azula doesn't lose.
Azula can’t lose.
She’s not a loser.
Zuzu is. Zuzu’s weak and pathetic and loses .
Azula doesn't.
Before she can realize what she’s doing, Azula calls on her small reserve of fire.
She has to destroy the evidence. Yeah, if the game disappears now, she won’t have lost. It will be fine.
“Wha-” Sokka starts and Azula’s gaze fixes on him.
He’s a threat. He can best her. So he should disappear too.
Yeah, she’ll get rid of both the peasant and the board and-
She’s already thrusting her fire towards them when she’s intercepted. Zuzu covers her hand with both of his, absorbing the flames. Azula trashes around, trying to free herself but it’s pointless. By the time she manages it, Zuzu’s already stolen all her precious fire.
“Azula-” he says. He’s been talking for a while but Azula can’t hear him under the thundering of her heartbeat.
She lost . How could that happen?
Suddenly, Zuzu grabs her by the shoulders, shaking her a bit, and forcing her to look at him and not at the board or her opponent.
“Azula, it’s fine!”
"It's not fine!” her opponent says. “She tried to burn me . I mean, I didn’t expect her to be a grateful loser but-”
“I’m not!” Azula yells. “I’m not a loser. I’m not. I'm not. I’m not .”
“Azu-”
“You are the loser, Zuzu, not me. I’m not. I-”
“Didn’t you lose the war?”
Azula freezes, before she resumes her trashing even harder than before. She has to get out of Zuzu’s hold. She has to .
She doesn't have any fire, she remembers, and suddenly it’s an even worse thought than before.
Zuko has fire, a voice in her head tells her. Zuko has allies. Zuko’s in control.
Zuko-
“Azula, it’s fine, I won’t hurt you!”
Zuzu’s weak, she reminds herself. Zuzu’s had her under his thumb for almost a year. He won’t- He would have already- Zuzu doesn’t have the stomach to do what he should.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she spits.
“Looks to me like you are,” the interloper tells her.
Azula snarls in his direction.
“Sokka, you aren’t helping,” Zuzu tells him and for one second Azula thinks that he’s about to finally send him out of the room.
“I think I am,” the nuisance frowns and addresses Azula, carefully enunciating every word. “You lost . You lost to me and you lost to Zuko. We are the winners and you are the loser.” Azula wants to rip off his throat with her teeth. “You are safe . No one is going to hurt you. And, if you want, we can try playing again some other time. See who’s the loser then, maybe it will be me. And the winner will only get bragging rights, that’s all.”
Like Azula would trust anything he says.
“He’s right,” Zuzu promises her. “I won’t let anything happen, okay? It’s fine to lose. I always lose to Sokka too.”
“That’s because you are a loser,” Azula reminds him. “I’m not, I don’t-”
“You did,” the peasant tells her again.
“And it’s okay,” Zuzu reassures her earnestly. “I promise, it’s okay.”
But it’s not okay. Now that Azula has calmed down a little, she realizes what a stupid show she has just put on. She freaked out over a game . A board game . It was so bad that even Zuzu’s peasant friend is trying to comfort her. And she didn’t even manage to damage the board!
It’s humiliating.
“Are you sure?” she asks, and uses her most saccharine tone, knowing it will make her brother flinch. “Don’t you remember what happened to you last time we played Pa Sho together, brother?”
Her father had been there and Zuzu had lost.
“I don’t care how much you provoke me, Azula,” Zuzu tells her firmly. “I won’t lash you.”
That seems to startle the peasant who looks at Zuzu with such concern that it’s sickening.
Zuzu seems to realize it too, because he rushes to explain, “Fire lashes against the back of my hand. It really wasn’t as bad as it sounds, they didn’t even leave a mark. I was like ten so Father held back a lot.”
If anything, the peasant looks even more horrified, “You do get why that doesn’t make it any better, right buddy?”
Azula doesn’t and, going by Zuzu’s blank expression, neither does he.
“Okay, so that’s what we are talking about tonight,” the peasant decides. “Now though, you should go get those treated.”
Zuzu and Azula frown at each other, not understanding what he’s talking about until the peasant points to Zuzu’s hands.
His palms are burned. It’s the idiot’s own fault for forgetting that Azula’s fire has always been hotter than his.
“Oh,” Zuzu says. “It’s fine, I can go later.”
Azula shrugs, Zuzu would know better how to deal with burns.
The peasant disagrees.
“Buddy, either you go right now or I’m including this little accident in my next letter to Katara,” he threatens. “Let’s see what she thinks of that idea.”
Zuzu’s eyes move to Azula, looking worried.
“I’m supposed to spend a couple of more hours here,” he says.
“Lucky me,” Azula mutters. She hates the reminder that she’s just another chore to be managed weekly.
“I’ll stay with her,” the peasant promises. “So be quick, before one of us kills the other.”
Zuzu chuckles weakly and Azula’s suddenly very aware of how much bigger Sokka is compared to her.
“Azula, would that be-”
“Just go,” Azula tells him. “Before you get another scar. The one in your face is hideous enough as it is.”
Zuzu nods and follows her orders but the peasant frowns at her.
“That was a nasty thing to say to him,” he dares to scold her as soon as Zuzu’s out of the room.
“So? I’m not going to coddle him and lie,” Azula shrugs. “He does have mirrors, you know?”
The peasant purses his lips, still looking disapproving but instead of continuing to tell Azula how she is and isn’t allowed to speak to her own brother, he just gestures towards the board.
“Want to finish the game?” he asks unenthusiastically.
“Why? We both know you’ve won.”
Neither proposes to start a new match.
The silence stretches between them and Azula tries, very unsuccessfully, to circulate her chi.
“I’m really not going to hurt you,” the peasant says, out of the blue. “You really don’t have to try and force your bending, I don't think it’s good for you.”
Azula scoffs. “You hate me.”
To his credit, the peasant nods. “Of course I do. You captured Zuki, almost killed Aang and Zuko, and you tried to kill my sister.”
“But you aren’t going to hurt me?” Azula replies mockingly. “I’m not as stupid as my brother.”
“Your brother is actually pretty smart when he bothers to stop and think,” the peasant tells her. Like he thinks he knows Zuzu better than she does. “And no, I won’t hurt you.”
“Oh?” she asks. “What if I attack you again, won’t you hurt me then?”
“Considering how it went this time?” the peasant raises an eyebrow. “Why would I bother?”
Azula’s nostrils flares. “I did manage to hurt Zuzu, don’t you care about that? The idiot thought he had taken away my bending but I’m not so easily caged.”
The peasant doesn’t even bother to answer her, he just glances disdainfully around the room.
“I could escape,” Azula assures him. “I’m going to escape.”
“Sure, you are.”
“Do you think Zuzu’s little attempt at playing happy families is working? ” Azula laughs at the idea. “I’m just pretending! I don’t care about fans or chats or tea, if Zuzu wants me to tell people about how sad it made me that Mother didn’t love me, then I can play along. As long as I do, he’ll open my cell and let me out himself!”
“Of course he will,” the peasant agrees, taking away the triumph Azula felt at her declaration. “That is the plan. Because the day he does so, you will not do anything to hurt him or anyone else.”
Azula scoffs. “Of course I will.”
“Do you want to bet?”
He sounds so sure of himself that Azula wants to hit him. But she’s not Zuzu, she doesn’t let her emotions govern her, so she stops and thinks.
“The documents, Zuzu left them on purpose,” she deduces. “He doesn’t actually want me involved in the running of the country so it must have been a distraction. Something to occupy me, like the fans. So is this it? You keep me locked for long enough and I’ll see the error of my ways? He isn’t even trying to preach to me.”
“Like you’d be convinced by words alone,” the peasant says. “No, you need facts and you need to reach the right conclusion by yourself.”
“What conclusion? How much better the Fire Nation is doing without the war?” Azula asks mockingly. Last she checked, unemployment had risen and they were looking at a very hard winter if they couldn’t secure more supply routes before then. Starvation seems unlikely but it’s not entirely out of the question.
“That’s not really what you care about, is it?” The peasant snorts at the idea. “No, I meant conclusions like how difficult it would be to reinstate the old regime after we are done dismantling it and turning the public opinion against the war. Like how your life is actually more comfortable and safe with your brother in charge. Like how maybe you do have someone in your family that cares about you and it’s definitely not your father.”
“So I pretend to fall for Zuzu’s scheme, he pretends he doesn’t know I’m pretending and the first one to actually believe what we are selling loses?” Azula asks. It’s an interesting game, certainly one she’s never played before, and she’s kind of curious about how long Zuzu’ll be able to hold out.
“Pretty much.”
Azula nods.
“This was not Zuzu’s idea,” she says.
“No,” the peasant admits. “But it was his wish.”
“You planned this,” it’s not like she needs confirmation but since they are laying (some) cards on the table she may as well say it outloud.
The peasant nods.
“Why?”
She’s half expecting to receive a bullshit answer about forgiveness and second chances but, to his credit, the peasant just says, “Zuko asked me to come up with a way where he could keep both you and the Fire Nation safe.”
“And you didn’t tell him he was being greedy and selfish?”
“No,” Sokka asks. “Though I did ask him why he still hadn’t given up on you. You know, after you threw lightning at him and almost killed him.”
Azula is tempted to leave it at that, but she knows that if she does, the peasant will take her silence as an admission that she doesn’t really want to know the answer to her next question.
“And what did he say?”
Sokka shrugs, “He just asked me what it would take for me to give up on Katara.”
Interesting question and flawless deflection, Azula’s almost impressed, it seems Zuzu has learned some new tricks after all.
“What would it take?”
“I don’t know,” the peasant admits. “I don’t know if I ever would.”
Then he sighs, looking almost resigned.
”Look, me and Katara, we have a very different relationship to you and Zuko,” he says, like that isn’t the understatement of the century. “Though then again, we also have a very different father. The thing is, your brother loves you. And you know Zuko, he doesn’t give up. Ever. So if my choices are to see him burn out trying to help you or find a way to turn you to our side, then I’m going to do my best to help him with the latter.”
Azula smiles, and this time, it's a genuine smile, full of teeth and mockery and defiance.
“Then let the game begin,” she says. “But don’t expect me to underestimate you again. I never make the same mistake twice.”
The peasant’s, no, Sokka’s answering smile is as sharp as her own. “That’s okay, I’ll defeat you anyway."
They glare at each other until Zuzu returns five minutes later, with his hands bandaged and a hurried look.
“Everything alright?” he asks.
“Peachy,” Sokka replies.
“Of course,” Azula agress.
Zuko’s gaze goes from one to the other, clearly not convinced but he just sighs and sits back down.
“Your burns?” Sokka asks.
“Fine, they won’t even scar,” Zuko reassures him, though he is also looking at Azula with a small smile, like he thinks she cares. Oh well, it just means she’s already winning her game against Sokka.
“Great,” Sokka claps his hands and gets up. “Then I’m leaving. I think me and the princess have already spent all the time we can handle with one another.”
Before he goes though, he picks up the fan Azula had discarded before.
“Hey,” she protests. “That’s mine!”
“It was in the bin,” Sokka points out.
“So?”
“So if you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” he answers flippantly. “It’s way too hot in this country, I need a fan or I may faint during a meeting and that would just be embarrassing.”
“Then buy one,” Azula tells him.
“I like this one,” Sokka answers, opening it for them to see. “Look Zuko, it’s the turtle-duck pond.”
He says it like a triumph and Azula frowns.
“It’s half the pond,” she points out. “It’s wrong, the picture is all messed up.”
And it really is, when she’d thrown it away some of the ink still hadn’t been dry so now there are smudges everywhere, not to mention that, like she’s already pointed out, only half the fan has been painted, the rest is still just penciled in.
Sokka shrugs.
“I think it gives it character,” he says. “And anyway, as long as it works, who cares how it looks? I just need air hitting my face before it melts down. Sometimes, I think I took Aang for granted when we were traveling together. You really cannot overstate how practical having an airbender is when visiting hot climates.”
And with that he leaves the room, not allowing Azula a chance to further protest.
“It’s a terrible fan,” Azula points out.
“I think it’s pretty,” Zuzu argues. “And it doesn’t need to be perfect.”
He sounds so sincere that Azula wants to barf.
She also doesn’t miss the soft look on his eyes or the fact that Sokka has all but confirmed that her taciturn, eternally wary brother has trusted him with her wellbeing. Well, well, well Zuzu’s always been full of weaknesses but it’s always nice to find a new one to exploit.
“I am not helping you with the successor crisis,” she tells him, just in case that was the reason for his inexplicable urge to ‘redeem’ her.
Zuzu frowns. “Wait, what successor crisis?”
Well, good to know that his brother is, and forever remains, an idiot.
Azula laughs in his face and refuses to elaborate.
+ 1 Arnook
Arnook sighs again and fights the urge to massage his temples.
He had planned a very tight schedule for Fire Lord Zuko's first formal visit to Agna Qel'a. They were to greet each other, have a short meeting in which Lord Zuko would officially present the reparations they had previously agreed on, and tour the city with the young Fire Lord oohing and aahing at everything like he was seeing it for the first time. Arnook had even been working on a couple of pointed comments about how all their entry gates were above water level to break the ice in case their conversation turned awkward at some point.
It was supposed to be simple.
But nothing ever is in politics, is it?
The worst part is that the Fire Nation delegation are, mostly, following their script just fine. It’s his own advisors that keep dragging the meeting out.
They can’t really argue about the reparations, not when they had all contributed to the negotiations, so they are questioning the Fire Nation willingness to follow through, asking for reassurance that their word will be kept and that this visit is not just an excuse to scoot their city.
It’s ridiculous.
If that was even a half serious concern, they would not have let them through the doors.
After all, there is a reason this conversation is happening over a year into the Fire Lord’s reign and well after the young leader has reached agreements with all the other nations.
Arnook is a patient man, a cautious one, and he never moves until he’s certain of all the facts.
He knows there are people that consider him a coward for it or even resent him. As much as Hakoda tries to hide it, every time they meet Arnook can read in his eyes accusations for his passiveness; hear in the story of what he’s had to sacrifice to end the war (a wife, the chance to raise his children, endless friends and neighbours) the question ‘where were you?’ .
But, as sorry as he feels for Hakoda, as much as he regrets what happened in the South, he can’t regret the choices he made for his people. He kept their benders safe, he kept their culture safe, he kept their children safe.
With one notable exception.
He supposes some think it justice. For him, so willing to sacrifice others for the safety of his tribe, to have a daughter that sacrificed herself for the sake of the world. But, to him, it’s just further proof that he made the right choices.
The one time he allowed outsiders in, that he got involved in the war, is the one time the war managed to touch his family and his people (after all, Yue was not the only casualty that day).
He’s well aware that it’s a very simplistic thought, the war was coming for them anyway and, without the avatar’s help, who's to say if they would have even survived? But Arnook is only human, and when he lies in bed, unable to sleep at night, his greatest regret is that he decided to welcome the Avatar and his friends into his city.
Arnook sighs again and looks at the young boy trying to convince his council that he means them no harm.
Part of him wants to be like some of his advisors and only see the colour of his robe.
But Arnook learned to be a father first and a chief second the moment it stopped mattering and, right now, all he can see is how young the boy is and how dark the scar on his face.
The Fire Lord is around the age Yue would be if she had lived.
And, much like Yue, he’s playing the part his nation has assigned him.
A cruel part.
An unjust part.
It was not Yue’s responsibility to fix the mistakes of a greedy commander that thought himself smarter than the rest because he was reckless enough to mess with the spirit world.
And yet, fix it she did.
It’s not young Zuko’s responsibility to shoulder the sins of a nation that threw him out, to offer reparations for the action of a father that repudiated him.
And yet, here he is.
Because someone has to do it, and no one else seems willing to.
Arnook wonders what that says about the adults of the world, that children are forced to pay the price for their mistakes.
Prince Zuko had been there, the day of the invasion. He had infiltrated the city and attacked their allies. But he’d also fought the leader of their attackers and to blame him for Yue’s fate would be to ignore the role he himself, Zhao and the Dragon of the West had played. No, Arnook can’t hold the kid responsible, not when so many adults were far more involved.
He thinks the kid may hold himself responsible anyway.
When Sokka had told Arnook about Zuko fighting Zhao, the Fire Lord had been quick to point out that ‘it was for selfish reasons’. He’d also listed several ways his actions had aggravated the situation and offered Arnook the most formal apology he’s ever received.
Arnook had just accepted it, it wasn’t his place to assuage the boy’s guilt and, selfishly, he had wanted to drop the subject.
He hopes Sokka had been braver and kinder than him and had explained to the boy that it really had not been his fault.
Sokka’s here today too. He’d ‘dropped in’ because he ‘missed the local cuisine’ and had, of course, managed to get himself invited to the meeting.
He shouldn’t have needed to.
It would have been easy for him to participate alongside the Fire Nation delegation in his role as Ambassador. He could have also offered Arnook to advise him and help him mediate as a member of their sister tribe with links to the Fire Nation.
But Sokka had clearly wanted to attend as a neutral party and so he had.
Now he looks as tired with this meeting as Arnook is and the chief finds himself, once again, hoping the boy will be braver than him and put an end to this charade. After all, if the meeting drags any longer, he’ll be forced to offer to let the Fire Delegation stay the night and he really wants them out of the city before nightfall.
As if answering his silent plea, Sokka gets up and walks towards the center of the room to stand side by side with his friend.
“The problem is that you cannot trust Zuko, is that right?” he asks directly to Pakku who had been the one directing this last wave of passive-aggressive accusations against the boy.
“Yeah,” the old man answers, never one to back down from a conflict. “Will you vouch for him?”
His tone is a bit derisive (which Arnook doesn’t think will help him with ensuring his new relationship with the boy’s grandmother is happy but it’s not his place to pry) and Sokka smiles at him in answer.
Zuko’s about to intervene when Sokka does something that makes both delegations gasp in shock. He grabs a lock of the Fire Lord’s hair and starts braiding it.
Braids are not part of the Northern Water Tribe culture but Arnook knows enough about the South to appreciate that they are as important and sacred as their own betrothal necklaces. Though, unlike the necklaces, braids can symbolize a lot of things. The one Sokka’s working on seems to be a family one, the kind that brands Zuko as his sworn brother in the eyes of everyone that knows even a little about the Southern Water Tribe.
“Are you sure?” he hears the Fire Lord ask him in a whisper.
His tone of voice is very low but right now, with how silent the room is, Arnook is sure he could hear a pin drop.
“Didn’t you claim me as your sworn brother so I could have a room in the royal wing?” Sokka asks.
“Sure, so we’d be close by if someone tried to assassinate one of us during the night,” Zuko answers.
“Oh? Is that the only reason?” Sokka teases.
Zuko rolls his eyes at him. “Is you wanting to go ‘exploring’ the only reason you are giving me this braid?”
Sokka chuckles in response.
“So I was counting on my people being shocked, but why are your people scandalized too? Do they even know what the braid means?” he asks instead of answering.
They do now, Arnook realizes. Sokka and Zuko are well aware that they are all hearing this conversation and are making it very clear where they stand with one another.
Zuko grimaces at the question.
“It’s not the meaning of the braid,” he says and he looks a bit awkward. “It’s you touching my hair in public. It’s not done in the Fire Nation.”
Sokka frowns at that. “Didn’t Mai spend the last banquet trying new hairdos on Tom-Tom?”
“Yeah, but they are family,” Zuko explains. “Servants are alright too, in cases of emergency. But usually, between people of the same station, it’s only done by family or, well,” he clears his throat, “a very brazen lover.”
Sokka smirks and wiggles his eyebrows making the Fire Lord bark a laugh that he immediately regrets, if the embarrassment on his face is to be believed.
With this new information, Arnook’s eyes move to the rest of the Fire delegation to check what their reactions are. They are all averting their eyes, some even with a blush on their cheeks.
None are protesting the implication that Sokka’s of equal station as their ‘son of Agni’.
None seem even a little bit surprised that their Fire Lord is allowing Sokka to do as he pleases, without so much as a protest.
Sokka finishes his braid and removes one of his own beads to tie it up. Because apparently he doesn’t think he’s quite made his point yet. Arnook misses being that young and passionate, such displays of favor just make him squirm with embarrassment in his old age.
Sokka lets go of his own braid carelessly but Zuko catches it before it can begin to unravel. To his credit, he does not hesitate to touch the other man's hair, even though the guard on his side looks ready to faint at what Arnook has just learned is extremely improper behavior from their Fire Lord during an important meeting.
“Careful,” he says. “That’s your Achievement braid, for the end of the war, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but it’s fine,” Sokka shrugs. “I can rebraid it later, it’s not like I’m here officially.”
Zuko rolls his eyes and rips a strip of fabric from his own ceremonial robes, in a display as brash and shameless as Sokka’s. One of his ministers flinches but the rest mostly look done with the situation.
“It doesn’t matter if it's unofficially, if your Gran Gran hears you’ve attended an important meeting without your braid she’ll have both of our heads,” Zuko reminds him, and ties Sokka’s braid with the red cloth.
It’s amazing how much lighter the young Fire Lord looks when he smiles.
Neither of the boys have forgotten where they are. Their conversation is, in part, a show to prove their friendship and thus Lord Zuko’s willingness to right the wrongs of the past. And yet, Arnook can tell that it’s honest too.
For a second, he wonders if that’s how Yue looked too, that afternoon she snuck out to hang out with Sokka.
Did Sokka manage to make her forget her duties and responsibilities, even if for a little while?
Did he remind her that she was Yue before she was Arnook’s daughter and the Northern Tribe’s princess?
Would Sokka have helped her shoulder her duties, offer her an ally that would stand by her against a hostile council?
And suddenly it clicks.
He sees Zuko standing there, proud but humble. Weighed down by his responsibilities to his people and yet strong and determined. A bit overly serious and in need of a friend to needle him into having some fun, be a bit selfish for once.
He sees Sokka, declaring that he’ll stand by him to the council, the same council that all but mocked him when he came to them with the Avatar and information on their enemy right before the biggest invasion their tribe has ever faced. He sees the way Sokka’s standing protectively by his side and yet not crowding him, giving him space to make his case.
He sees them standing shoulder to shoulder, a united front, outnumbered but unafraid.
And he has to suppress a smile.
It looks like Sokka may have a type.
It also looks like it’s time for Arnook to take control of this meeting. He can’t let the youngster do all the work. Not this time.