A note: I couldn't remember who I had stolen the term "Twinkies" from to describe the little Kyoshian girls Aang was gaang baanging. "Twinkies" is from 4EverSleepingDragon's fic, Not Everything is Real. It is also a delicious snack cake.
Mingling: An
Introduction (Let's Get This Party Started)
Dinner was finally over, the rich and extravagant fusion cuisine the talk of the party. Chong and Nomads relinquished the orchestra pit to the palace's house musicians, but their stuffy background music did not stop the brightly dressed free-loving travelers from loudly launching into their own little ditties whenever the mood struck them as they meandered about the great reception hall.
A grand dessert buffet, complete with massive ice sculptures of dragons and koi fish, was quickly descended upon, as was the open bar, now in full swing, pirates jostling for service alongside salty sailors and nuns alike. Tables were quickly cleared and removed, opening up the dance floor to accommodate all 1048 guests. As the guests dispersed, scattering around the hall to make introductions and seek out old friends, new alliances, and intriguing possibilities, it became obvious to Zuko that the real party was just beginning.
But first, Zuko had a duty to do. He focused on the task at hand and breathed deeply, wishing Katara hadn't gone to change dresses yet again.
Breathe, Zuko.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
You're royalty, Zuko. The Fire Lord. You're a Firebending master. You can do this.
"Hakoda. Master Pakku. Chief Arnook," he cleared his throat, trying to get the Sokka-esque squeak out, and faced the three most fearsome and intimidating Water Tribe men he'd ever met. "I'd like you meet my father, Ozai."
The former Fire Lord stood firmly by his son's side, but somehow managed to hang back in an alcove so he stayed out of the light. His shoulders were slightly hunched, his head held level, though he seemed to be nodding slightly – probably an effect of the Firebending suppressant.
Master Pakku stood with his arms crossed casually over his chest, one hip hitched up, a frown deeply lining his face as he sized up the ex-Fire Lord. Chief Arnook stood ramrod straight, his face solemn and reverent, his eyes burning with contempt. And Hakoda, who had always come across as warm and friendly to Zuko, was colder than a block of ice toward Zuko's father.
The three Water men eyed the insane, power-hungry ex-Fire Lord warily. Ozai glowered back, yellow eyes shining in the dark. As blue-blue-blue met gold, Zuko could practically feel the crackle of static in the space between them as the men were rubbed the wrong way just by looking at each other.
Standing between them, the young newlywed was unsure exactly what he would be doing if he had to intercede between the two factions. Would he be protecting his father from the Water Tribe men, or preventing the men from getting hurt?
A heartbeat of silence. Two. Three. The prickly stillness continued as Ozai rested in the shadows, a tiger lying in wait.
Finally, Katara's father stepped forward and extended a hand.
"In-law," he ground out.
Zuko was afraid his father would not accept the offered hand. But after three more heartbeats, Ozai stepped forward and gripped Hakoda's forearm in a brotherly gesture, and Zuko let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.
"Father-of-my-son's-wife," Ozai enunciated carefully. They clasped arms tightly for one, two, three heartbeats, then abruptly let go.
"If you'll excuse us, we have to say hello to some old friends." Hakoda bowed shortly to the two Fire men. "My lords."
They turned their blue backs and disappeared into the crowd. Zuko slumped against the wall.
"He seemed nice," Ozai said casually. "A little on the frosty side though." He let out a sudden manic hoot of wild laughter, causing everyone within hearing range to recoil in terror. "Get it? Frosty! Because, he's from the Water Tribe, and it's cold there…"
"Yeah, Dad, I got it." Zuko barely suppressed a moan as he glanced around fearfully, looking for an excuse to get away. "Er, let me get you a drink."
"No need, my boy." The ex-Fire Lord produced a half-empty bottle of the palace's finest wine and shook it in his son's face. Zuko's eyes widened in horror.
"Dad! How much did you drink?"
"Me? Drunk?" He hiccupped. "I dunno, maybe four, five, six…" Ozai grinned. If it weren't for the shadowy alcove, Zuko would see the alcohol-reddened visage of the old Fire Lord with bloodshot, heavy-lidded eyes, rosy apple cheeks, and wine-stained teeth.
"Now if you'll excuse me, my son," Ozai stepped forward. "I am going to mingle."
Zuko stood paralyzed with fear as his father staggered forward. He was about to call the guards to watch him (as if they weren't already), but as the senior member of the royal family began talking animatedly to just about anyone he encountered, grinning and shaking hands and being pleasant, the young Fire Lord shrugged to himself.
Oh, what the heck? The old man deserves to have his fun after two years in prison.
He put some distance between himself and the old Fire Lord, seeking his newlywed wife so he could hide behind her skirt.
