Chapter Text
“If I die of heatstroke, tell Katara I went out bravely,” Sokka muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
He’d visited the Fire Nation before. Then, apparently, it had been winter, and pleasantly warm. Now the heat was oppressive. He’d been off the ship five minutes and he was already sweating through his robes.
“Tea?” an attendant asked, holding out a ceramic cup.
Sokka waved him off and looked at the palace. The towers loomed higher than any other building in the Capital City. “Someone needs to tell Zuko that this heat is a war crime,” he mused.
“I’m pretty sure war crimes are committed by people, not weather,” a voice said from the gateway.
Speak of the devil.
Sokka flopped dramatically onto the nearest bench. “I’ll settle for cruel and unusual punishment, then.” He glared half-heartedly up at the scarred face of his best friend. “Are you people allergic to cold drinks? I keep getting offered tea. In this heat.”
Zuko took the cup that the attendant was still holding and frowned at its contents. “You do realise this is chilled.”
“What,” Sokka said.
A smile twitched at the firelord’s lips. “Chilled hibiscus tea. That’s what you’ve been turning down.”
“Wait, so this whole time I was sweating buckets I could have been chilling out with a nice cup of cold tea?”
“Maybe you should ask what’s in the cup before you wave it away,” Zuko suggested, and Sokka could hear the laugh in his voice.
He stood up and punched Zuko on the arm. “You’ve been holding back on me,” he complained.
Zuko punched him back. “It’s your own fault. C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.” The other boy turned and strode into the palace, robes swishing behind him (how could he wear those in this heat). Sokka hurried after him, adjusting the strap on his pack as he crossed gratefully into the shade of indoors.
The guest suite Zuko showed him to looked more like a small house. It had a kitchen of its own, a bathroom with a shower and a tub, and bizarrely, an attic.
(Seriously. An attic. In a guest suite.)
The bed was a double, carved of polished oak and laden with silk sheets that looked far too nice to sleep on. Sokka dumped his bag on one side and threw himself on the other. “Is this for me or a small army?” he joked.
Zuko gave a half-shrug. “Diplomatic courtesy.”
“Showing off, more like,” Sokka laughed.
“Same difference.”
Sokka grinned and looked around him. “If I get lost in here, tell Katara I got swallowed by luxury.”
Zuko didn’t respond, but Sokka caught the twitch of his lips as he turned to leave.
The dining room was massive and stifling, all polished obsidian and wrought-iron torch brackets.
Sokka sat on Zuko’s left side at one end of the long table. Opposite him was Pakku from the Northern Water Tribe, and further down, he spotted Bumi, the crazy old earthbender from Omashu. Other officials lined the table, talking amongst themselves, but he saw nobody else that he recognised.
Zuko sat at the head as was custom, posture suffocatingly formal. His face was serious and the slit of his left eye made him look angrier than he probably was.
(He was always angry, but whatever.)
Sokka nudged him. “You look like you’re about to sentence someone to death,” he teased.
Without breaking his formal firelord pose, Zuko reached over and grabbed Sokka’s chopsticks. He took a clump of noodles from his own bowl and shoved them into Sokka’s mouth.
Sokka, caught off guard, almost swallowed a whole noodle. He choked, spluttered, and glared as he chewed on the surprise mouthful.
“Death by noodle,” Zuko said, completely straight-faced as he put down the chopsticks and folded his hands in his lap like nothing had happened.
Sokka was just recovering from the ambush when he noticed the silence.
Everyone at the table was staring between the firelord and the water tribe diplomat, evidently bemused. Pakku raised one snowy eyebrow. Bumi seemed to be holding back laughter. One of Zuko’s ministers coughed into his sleeve, evidently pretending their head of state didn’t just goof off in front of about fifty representatives.
He swallowed the noodles and punched Zuko’s arm. “You know they’re all wondering why a goofy eighteen-year-old is running a country.”
Zuko smirked. “They’re wondering why I let you sit next to me.”
“Because I’m charming and diplomatic?” Sokka grinned.
“No, because you showed early and stole the seat.” Zuko reached for a container of chilli powder and proceeded to douse his own noodles.
“What if I just steal your chopsticks and retaliate?” Sokka playfully reached for the wooden cutlery lying untouched by his friend’s bowl.
Zuko slapped his hand away. “What if I just cover your noodles in chilli powder?”
“On second thought - I’ll pass.”
“Good,” Zuko mumbled through a mouthful of liberally spiced chow mein.
“I don’t see why a visit to the turtleduck pond requires being up at dawn,” Sokka grumbled as Zuko pulled him through the halls.
Zuko huffed a laugh. “You will.”
The courtyard was pleasantly warm now, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat of the day. Dawn light had just begun to filter over the palace rooftops, bathing them in golden glow. The birds were beginning to sing as though they’d never been asleep.
Zuko led him to a secluded grove in the centre of the courtyard. He sat down beside the pond and offered Sokka half a loaf of bread. Small shapes had just begun to stir at the opposite side of the pond, and Sokka made out the outline of a turtleduck as it took to the water for another day of lazy paddling.
The flowers around the pond were glowing. He didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed this before.
“Moon lilies,” Zuko said as Sokka sat down beside him, answering the unspoken question that he’d been about to give voice to.
Sokka nodded. He tore off a chunk of bread and threw it in the pond. The ducks squabbled over it.
He was just beginning to relax when he felt a hand on his back and the water rushed up to meet him. He surfaced, spluttering, to see Zuko doubled over on the bank and ducks swarming around him for the bread he’d been holding.
In all the time they’d travelled together, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen his best friend laugh like that.
Sokka stood, dripping, folded his arms, and glared.
Which only made Zuko laugh harder.
“Not funny,” he grumbled, wading to the edge of the pond and grabbing hold of Zuko’s leg to pull the other boy in.
Zuko fell face first and came up dripping and laughing all the more, water running from his hair down the back of his neck. He hadn’t been holding bread, so the ducks continued to swarm Sokka instead.
His friend stood, spitting out pond water.
“You had to, didn’t you,” Zuko said, tipping his head forward to wring out his hair. Free from the ceremonial crown, it fell in a shaggy, dripping mess down to his shoulders and over his eyes.
“Yep,” Sokka grinned. “Payback for the noodles and the pond shove.”
“Be grateful the noodles weren’t already spiced.”
“Trust me, I am.” Sokka clambered out of the pond and offered a hand to Zuko, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled up.
Now that they were on the bank, the other boy was steaming.
“Not fair,” Sokka complained, “you can dry yourself off.”
“Should have thought about that before you shoved a firebender in a pond,” Zuko shrugged.
“Touche.”
“I should get to bed,” Zuko decided, and Sokka thought he heard a note of regret in his friend’s voice. “Important firelord duties. Diplomatic proposals to read.”
Sokka laughed. “Probably a good idea. Though I have to say, those silk sheets look far too fancy to sleep under.”
Zuko swatted his shoulder. “Go dry your clothes.”