Chapter 7
Iroh had spent the afternoon enjoying some valuable time with his nephew. Since his arrival in the capital, the young man had been consumed by his tiring schedule, but today he and Aang had finally finished seeing all the dignitaries who had been invited. He knew that Zuko, for one, would be glad to see them leave.
Unfortunately, there was yet one trial still before him.
"You understand appeasement politics well enough to know one cannot spread good-will without finalizing it with an luxurious banquet. This should not surprise you, my nephew," Iroh teased the boy as they walked slowly down the hall.
Zuko scowled. "Understanding it won't make it more pleasant. All the scrapping, the flattery, the flirting." He seemed well and truly miserable, one step away from dragging nails down his face. "The music alone will undo me. What if I have to dance? Mai will kill me."
Iroh held his belly, trying hard to keep from laughing in his nephew's face. No matter what the circumstances or one's rank, it seemed that an adolescent boy was an adolescent boy when it came to these things. Recalling galas of his own past, he offered, "Perhaps it will be alright. After all, both Aang and I will be present."
"I already know you won't shield me, old man. More likely, you'll hand me off." When Iroh didn't deny it, he added, "And Aang will be busy. Katara is here, remember?"
"It may be inevitable that you have to accept a few turns around the floor, I'm afraid. You are a very eligible bachelor, you know. Though, perhaps if you arranged to go with a temporary partner…"
The boy barked an ungracious laugh. "Yes. It would be like choosing an executioner. No. I'll just have to get out of it somehow."
"I'm afraid not, my nephew. Attendance is obliged, particularly for the host."
A familiar cadence interrupted further discussion of the matter, and the old general rotated on aging legs to look over their shoulders. "Ah, Sokka!" he greeted the lad, pleased to see the intrepid guardian. He clapped the boy's shoulder as soon as he was near enough. "So scrawny," he teased, wobbling the grinning youth.
When Sokka saw Zuko's downtrodden face, he had the audacity to laugh. "You," he said. "What's with that face?"
It was Iroh who answered him. "My nephew is not looking forward to the banquet tonight."
"It will be so incredibly boring," Zuko bemoaned, for one second sounding infinitely like the teenager he was.
"Boohoo," Sokka teased him, because he could.
"You're coming, right?" his nephew asked. This was obviously the boy's latest tactic. Iroh had seen drowning animals do something similar – drag one another down.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Sokka was too clever to be drawn under by anything other than his own will. Propping his chin on a hand, he mused, "I don't know. It's going to be incredibly boring."
Undeterred by his mocking humor, Zuko wheedled, "You do understand that by 'banquet,' it's mean that there will be a feast involved."
It was a well judged weakness. The Southerner actually looked a little dreamy. "Feast? Well, okay, I guess I'll come. As a favor to your highness."
Zuko rolled his eyes, but it was poor concealment for the triumph underlying his features. "Whatever. Just so long as I don't have to go alone."
In retaliation for this manipulation, Sokka waggled his brows. "Why, Zuko," he said, deliberately smarmy. "I hear there'll be dancing."
It was as predictable as throwing a log into a furnace. "I forgot something!" Zuko announced, pivoting abruptly back towards his rooms.
The old general and the Water tribesman watched him stomp off. "I wonder if he knows that when he's secretly pleased about something, he kind of glows," Sokka commented.
Iroh's grin curled, thinking of how easily he'd always been able to read through his nephew's sullen disdain and theatrical moodiness. He wondered how the boy would feel if he knew he was so transparent to Sokka.
"You're perceptive," he complimented.
Sokka just shrugged. "He's, like, four-years-old."
Iroh laughed, thumping the boy on the back hard enough to rock him on his feet. "It not hard to see why Zuko has become so fond of you."
"Undoubtedly not his words." The tribesman coughed into his hand, amused.
"No, but as you have said, my nephew is not a terribly subtle creature." The hallway seemed quiet, a requiem of confidences. Iroh accused, "You care for him too."
There was no denial. Sokka just tipped him a look with his glacial eyes. "Where I came from, everything is about surviving together. It's why I'm sticking around to keep an eye on Aang…and Zuko. You don't just stop being tribe. Not ever."
Truth. The statement rang with it. That faithfulness wasn't so much a decision as it was this boy's nature – the whole force of heredity, culture, and character pushing him to choices and sacrifices that others might not even consider. Iroh could wish that his own people would embrace even some small measure of that savage devotion.
It made him recall an earlier conversation. "Zuko is quite troubled at the moment, not least of all because his friend is unhappy." He waited until Sokka was looking directly into his face. "We spoke about the message you were sent, and I want you to know that there is no shame in longing for home, especially after being away for so long. And no shame in fear, especially when you doubt your welcome."
"Zuko wants me to stay here," Sokka shared, and it was clear he was conflicted. Vulnerability radiated from him, visible behind the shield of wild antics and playful jokes that usually cloaked it. "But I don't belong here."
"I've been told that you did very well passing as a Fire Nation citizen once. Zuko admitted that he was, in fact, deemed an imposter before you."
Sokka rolled blue, blue eyes as if to say, 'Yeah, no clue how that happened.'
Iron looked at him without speaking. Sokka was a good boy. Perhaps not so radically destined to the glory that would remember his companions, but a notable and admirable young man all the same. Without any powers at all, Iroh secretly wondered how much of the earth he would move, one handful of dirt at a time.
Katara worked steadily, plying the needle with the kind of clumsy deftness that had become her way. This last minute adjustments of the thin blue trim was tricky, and she felt her brother stiffen when she flinched and dug the sharp point in deeper than necessary.
"I need you to stay still," she murmured by way of apology, and he came to an even more rigorous attention. That he didn't grumble or tease just went to show how much he wanted her help. He wasn't taking any chances, this time.
"There," she said finally, brushing away a stray thread and adjusting the fabric at his shoulders. "You look very handsome."
Grinning, Sokka took her fingers and playfully swung her back to arm's length so that the pearly hem of her dress swished. "And you look beautiful, Katara," he complimented her. "I'm going to have to hover even more diligently than usually tonight to keep away all the men who aren't good enough for you."
He was only partially teasing, so she put off that notion. "I think I can handle it. And anyway, I'll be with Aang." She didn't know it, but her face lit up in a special way when she thought of it. "Besides, I thought you were babysitting Zuko tonight."
Sokka chuckled, amused by her wording. "I'm being exploited," he admitted. "He just doesn't want to stand by himself, ready prey for any young woman brazen enough to approach the Fire Lord."
"None of which would be a decent kind of girl anyway," Katara put in.
"Yeah," Sokka agreed. "That's why I'll be there. With my manly good looks and wit, all the girls will be too staggered to even notice him."
Katara giggled. "Whatever you say, Gorgeous."
She looked into his dusky, amiable face – always a keystone for her, always a strong support. After so long living in one another's pockets, it had been hard not seeing him for so long. Her silly, steady as moon-and-tide big brother.
"Oh!" She suddenly remembered, and walked briskly to her bed. Upon arriving, she and Toph had each been shown to a set of luxurious chambers draped in the colors of their origin. Her bedroom alone was larger than their entire home at the South Pole, and the futon where she had tossed her fur-lined rucksack was piled with so many silver and azure cushions that it took her a moment to find what she was looking for. "I almost forgot," she said as she searched. "I brought you a present."
"Present?" Sokka repeated, perking up.
It had gotten stuck somewhere under the folds of clothing, but at last she freed it with a triumphant "Ha!" The little crescent glimmered bone-white in the torchlight, and the girl smiled, motioning for her brother to stoop so she could reach the top of his combed hair.
"I always thought you looked good with those fire pendants in your hair – you know, during the time we were traveling here before the invasion," she explained as she carefully attached the clip. "But you can't go around as a representative of the Southern Water Tribe with a ridiculous red flame on your head, so I made you a replacement. Aha! Well, take a look."
Her brother obligingly turned and walked to the looking glass placed against one wall. In his reflection, the small ivory moon burned cold. It looked very right there, just as the formal wear made him look competent and mature. He'd come a long way, she reflected, from the gawky kid in the scruffy blue tunic carrying a boomerang.
"It's really nice, Katara," her brother said, touching it softly. "Thank you."
But the figure of him in the mirror looked a little wane. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes.
"Sokka?" his sister asked, pressing her hand against his back. "What's wrong?"
"Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "It's silly. It just made me think about…"
Katara wrapped her brother in am embrace, and he set his chin against her shoulder. She asked, "Are you homesick, Sokka?"
"Maybe," he mumbled into her neck, and she heard it again – that mournful note of dejection. "I miss ice and fur and the sound of water. I miss hunting." Of course, he could hunt here, but she knew what he meant – with a spear and another shoulder against his own. He missed the pack. Being a lone wolf wasn't what he was meant for. "Do you know why Dad didn't ask for me to come home?"
She shook her head, feeling his sorrow. "You know how difficult things are right now. I think he just believes you're where you can be the most help. Aang tells me all the time how he could hardly get along without you."
And he had. He told her how frustrated he sometimes felt, how he often went to the older boy when he felt near despair. How Sokka made him feel safe and cared about.
However, she also knew how her brother felt about coming home. If he had been at the South Pole, he would have been an adult – hunter, warrior – and likely beginning to take command of the village's young men. He would possibly have been considering marriage. But here? What role was he to play here?
It was a good question.
