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The war was officially over. The Fire Nation had withdrawn their troops, releasing the villages and cities they’d taken over, captured and used for supplies and lodging. Prisoners of war were slowly brought back home, arriving straight from Fire Nation war ships, all flying the white flag of truce.
Leaders returned home, burned and scarred if they survived long enough to be released, but those that came sported bandages and stitches and creams, the marks of the best healers in the Fire Nation.
Firehawks were sent to all corners of the world, urging those banished for daring to fight back to come back, saying they were pardoned and would receive full compensation for their struggles. Letters to kings and chiefs, asking for an era of peace and trade.
Sokka had laughed the first time he’d read one. He’d laughed the second time too. He’d ripped the third and burned the fourth, scowling in the privacy of his tent.
It was laughable that the new Fire Lord, Zuko, wanted to repair everything his father and forefathers had destroyed, had burnt to the bone, leaving nothing but the ashes of treaties, the ashes of hope, and this power hungry bastard thought he could -
No.
That was the response the Southern Water Tribe sent, scoffing at what was undoubtedly a trick, hardened warriors and giggling children alike.
They’d all heard how he’d risen to power.
The angry, banished prince was caught in Fire Nation waters and brought back to the palace, to his father. That had apparently been the last straw for Fire Lord Ozai, because the young prince was said to have been locked in the bowels of the dungeons, never to see the sun again for as long as he lived.
They’d thought it wouldn’t be long.
Then the previous Fire Lord had lost his shit and declared himself King of the World, making his even less stable daughter the new Fire Lord, trying to give the two indefinite power over everyone.
Then, Fire Lord Azula lost her shit. She went for the kill, not even challenging her father to an Agni Kai, but striking quickly and fatally.
She tried.
Ozai hadn’t lived that long for nothing and struck back, uncaring that it was his daughter who he fought.
The destruction of the palace was the worst thing Sokka had ever seen. Bodies, nobles and servants alike, strewn across crack floors, fire burning at the edges of every room.
They were fleeing, those people. Fleeing from the leaders who were supposed to protect them, instead taking their anger and wrath out on everything that moved.
It was then that those who’d survived long enough to do so, decided to free the last dragon in the castle.
It was said that Prince Zuko had taken his father’s life in vengeance, standing over the broken body of his sister, dao in his hands.
He’d risen to Fire Lord on the same day, being the last of the Sonzai Dynasty that would accept the crown.
So to hear that this banished prince turned revered leader was ending the war, the war his family had started , they’d all laughed.
Even as messages were returned, outright refusals sent back, the Fire Lord continued to withdraw, continued to keep his promise to the people. His soldiers left peacefully, royal messengers arriving to reimburse the towns that had suffered under the soldiers’ reign.
Prisoners continued to arrive, as healthy and whole as they could be made, coming back to their families and houses, one by one.
And they began to believe him.
That was how Sokka found himself, Toph, Aang, and Katara as ambassadors to the Fire Nation, to meet and negotiate with the new Fire Lord, to hash out the exact plans of the new treaties.
Personally, he didn’t think it was smart to send four war heros, including the fucking Avatar , to the heart of the Fire Nation and trust nothing bad to happen.
His reminder of this was shaken off and brushed aside, Katara reminding him that out of the four of them they had a future chief of the Southern Water Tribe - knows about politics, yay! - one of the last waterbenders - representing them as a whole - one of the most powerful earthbenders - scary secret weapon - and the fucking Avatar, should any trouble arise.
It did nothing to quell his fears.
Well founded fears, if he did say so himself.
They were offered an escort on a Fire Nation warship returning home, but declined. Aang loathed leaving Appa alone for long amounts of time and didn’t really trust anyone but himself to care for the giant sky bison.
When Sokka pointed out that the giant flying bison made them into a virtual target in the sky, he was assured that “it would be fine” and “they couldn’t get us when they were looking for us, why would that change now?”.
It was a miracle they hadn’t been captured and killed by the ashmakers a week into their journey.
The trip into the Fire Nation was uneventful, flying through the days into the night, before stopping to sleep, and setting out next morning’s light.
No one admitted it, but the sooner they were out of Fire Nation territory, the safer they’d feel.
The villages they flew over as they headed to the palace were small, the country as war torn as any other. Even then, they found the people of the Fire Nation approaching them, sworn enemies of their previous lord, and thanking them.
Some thanking them with tears in their eyes, as they hoped for peace and prosperity, as their own soldiers returned home from a war none had really wanted.
Sokka tried to decline any gifts offered to them, because even if these were ashmakers, even if they had been his enemies for so long, they were still people. They were still recovering from the war, even if much of it hadn’t been fought on their own soil.
Their arrival at the palace was quieter, Appa landing in the middle of a courtyard - bodies cleared away, cracks sealed and charred wood replaced - while servants and guards rushed to receive them.
Their belongings were swept off to their quarters, though they were given time to freshen up, as the rather stiff servant leading them had suggested.
After a quick break to eat lunch - food they’d brought with them, even Aang hadn’t objected - the four of them were led to a room, four walls of paneled wood with a large glass window dominating one, a table with five chairs in the center of it. A brazier of coals stood in the far corner, heating the room.
And that was it.
They were left there, with only the papers Katara had requested from their bags and the crackling of the flames for company.
The door had been shut - not locked, Toph had checked - behind the servant as he’d left, a guard standing to attention outside it.
It didn’t take long for Sokka to get bored, even as he thrummed with adrenaline, in such a contained space, with no access to even his boomerang. He needed something to do.
Then his eyes had landed on the chair at the head of the table, its fancy upholstery so at odds with the plain wooden ones they’d been led to.
The cushions of the chair were a deep red; clearly an expensive dye was used to color them. The wood of the arms were carved with the designs of dragons, the marks edged with gold, the rendition of claws at the bottom of the legs shining faintly in the light of the sun.
It was a chair fit for a king.
Or a Fire Lord.
With that thought in mind, Sokka popped up from his seat, smirking as he strolled towards the seat. Katara watched him as he neared it, looked it up and down, and leaned an arm against it, smirk only growing as she spoke.
“What are you doing?” She was practically hissing, fists clenched as she stood from her own seat. Her papers laid forgotten on the table in front of her.
“Nothing,” he said, grinning now as he glanced around the room and behind the chair. You could never tell with these people, they booby trapped practically anything.
Remember that Fire Nation ship Aang so desperately wanted to explore? Yeah.
The resident Avatar in question was looking nervously from Sokka to his sister, joining them in the Stand Up If You’re Bored protest. “I don’t think you should be doing that.”
He was now stooping over the glorified chair, carefully prodding at the cushions while they watched. Of course he didn’t think it was a good idea if his girlfriend didn't think it was a good idea.
It didn’t really matter if it was smart or not, Sokka was bored and fed up with racing to get to the palace, only to have the Fire Lord himself be late to his own meeting. They’d been in the room for practically an hour, still with no update of where the fuck he was, and he was done.
That’s it, he was done.
Sokka plopped down into the chair, one leg strewn over the arm of the chair as he leaned into the cushions and dropped his head back, savoring the feeling of soft fabric against his neck.
“It’s not like he’s gonna see this, I’m just testing out his fancy chair.” He flapped an arm as he spoke, grinning even wider at Katara’s protests and Aang’s quiet support.
Strangely enough, Toph had been silent throughout it all, her head tilted to one side as she quietly smirked to herself.
Whatever. She was probably just eavesdropping on the guard or something. If it was anything dangerous, she’d warn them before she obliterated the threat.
It was at that moment that the door swung open, the servant from before gasping as he saw the scene before.
A man swept into the room after him and Sokka was blown away.
The guy was tall, his dark hair swept back from his face, not hiding the dark scar that marred half his face, turning one gold eye into a slit. His red robes, though of good quality, were not overly fancy, black embroidery accenting the hems.
He too, paused, taking in the room and people within.
Taking in Katara and Aang on their feet, shocked looks on their faces. Taking in Toph, who was now snickering to herself, her bare feet propped up on the table. Taking in Sokka, who’s expression hadn’t changed as he flapped a hand in the nobleman’s direction.
“Why are you sitting in my chair?”
His voice. Raspy and soft, it was the most amazing thing Sokka had ever -
Oh no.
The squeak that escaped his lips wasn’t something he was proud of and he just managed to stay relaxed in his seat - hot guy’s seat - instead of scrambling out of it and hopping around the room with the alarming knowledge that he was attracted to the Fire Lord burned into his brain.
“Your - your chair?” Damn it. Not as smooth as he wanted to be, the stutter giving him away, if the squeak hadn’t already.
Fire Lord Hot Guy stared back at him with a confused expression on his face, hands crossed over his chest. “Yes, my chair.” He didn’t sound like he wanted to repeat himself a third time, so Sokka didn’t ask again.
You could never be sure, maybe this guy he’d just fallen in love with saying he was the Fire Lord was a fluke - a glitch, if you will - and if he confirmed it enough times, the answer would change.
His friends were uncharacteristically silent, Katara giving him warning glances behind Sexy Scar Guy’s back, Aang staring open mouthed as Sokka fumbled for something to say.
Toph was still laughing, that jerk.
“I - wow, okay, I’ll just get right out of here then,” he said, almost kicking the table as he swung himself upright and off the chair, grabbing at air to catch himself as he tripped, arms flailing. Only to catch himself on the shoulder of the Fire Lord, who’d moved closer as he fell.
After a moment of shocked pause, he swung himself away again, twisting quickly around him and plopping into his original chair, disturbing the papers that rested before him.
His sister remained standing as the rest of them sat, leaning towards the new Fire Lord with an apologetic smile on her face. He could see just how much it killed her inside to apologize to the Fire Nation, to apologize for him.
“I’m sorry for my brother, he didn’t mean any offense by sitting in your chair.” Her voice was decidedly light, her eyes anything but.
The Fire Lord waved her off as she finished, joining her as he stood, a more genuine regretful look on his face. “I should be the one apologizing, as I was delayed in a previous meeting and you were left to wait for me here.” They watched in shock as he gave a shallow bow, a bow between equals, the flame formed with his hands.
Katara didn’t seem to know what to do with the apology - or the bow - and stood there, the moment stretching into silence. Finally, it was Aang who took up the reins, returning a bow to the same degree.
“Thank you Fire Lord Zuko. Can we begin with the negotiations?”
It turned out that this meeting wasn’t to make the new agreements, not even to revise the old treaties, those from over a century ago.
This meeting was an exchange of information, about issues such as annual produce produced and consumed, the ratio of soldiers to civilians, and current territory lines, things they wouldn’t know before coming into the other’s land.
That meant it didn’t take long; in fact, the wait was longer than the actual talk.
In the few moments before the end, as papers were stacked and shuffled away, Fire Lord Hot Stuff stood again, drawing all attention back towards him.
“I wanted to thank you for coming here for the revisals of these treaties, it means a lot to both my nation and I.” He waved a hand towards Toph, realizing a second too late that she couldn’t see it, and lowered his hand. “Master Beifong, unless your companions will be helping you, I can send for someone to read all the information on those papers once you are escorted to your quarters.”
Toph practically grinned at the title, rocking back in her chair as she responded. “Don’t worry about me, Sparky. I can get these idiots to read them for me just fine.”
The new Fire Lord took the nickname in stride, only pausing for a moment before continuing, now gesturing towards the door. “Kai can show you to your rooms; your belongings have all been brought there already.”
Then they were all standing, papers in hands and pens in pockets, chairs in disarray beside the table. Sokka, who’d been dutifully ignoring the glances that had been sent his way via Fire Lord Hot Guy, now looked up, only to find him looking right back at him.
He wasn’t strong enough, he couldn’t stop himself.
He winked.
The Fire Lord blushed and smiled back.