Chapter Text
It had been a long time since Zuko had been so unenthused about a diplomatic visit as he was today. He had considered a hundred different ways to politely tell Councilmen Amorok and Uki of the Northern Water Tribe that no, he was not interested in meeting to discuss the recent uptick in piracy around northern waters. Especially not on such short notice.
And he was certainly not interested in hosting tonight’s welcoming party - but how else was he to receive the chief’s nephew? He had half a mind to forgo the arbitrary festivities entirely, cut straight to the meeting, and then kick them out. He might have seriously considered it if not for the fact that relations with the North were so bad that this dismissal might actually be enough to start a substantial conflict. There was also the desperate desire to silence the incessant nagging of his many advisors. So if Amorok wanted his little meeting so badly, he could have it.
Still, the anticipation for the looming festivities manifested in a crease between his brows that did not relent for the whole day. It became particularly pronounced as he skimmed through his chancellor's budget proposal for the coming year. A sharp rap on the door thankfully diverted his attention from the report.
"Enter." The doors opened and in strolled Iroh, holding a tray with two steaming cups and a teapot.
"You have not left your study all day, Zuko. Come and join me for a cup of tea."
In the early days of his reign, Zuko might have dramatically performed for his uncle a series of exasperated sighs, impassioned rants about how busy he was, and many more of such displays of huffing and puffing. He always ended up at the tea table anyway, so he had learned by now to just shut up and enjoy it.
Zuko groaned as he scooted away from his desk and stretched back against the chair. Joining his uncle in sitting cross-legged on the mat at the tea table in the corner of the room, he nursed the steaming cup in his hands and gazed listlessly into the bottom of it, watching the little leftover bits of tea leaf settle as fragrant steam wafted into his nostrils.
“Nephew, while a good cup of tea may be enjoyed through all of the senses, my preferred method is taste.”
Zuko chuckled and looked up to meet Iroh’s serene smile. He mirrored his uncle as he took a small sip from his cup. “Have our guests arrived in the palace?”
“Yes,” Iroh blew lightly overtop of his demitasse. “Counsellor Jang tells me that they were most enthusiastic in their praise of the decor.”
Zuko scoffed. “What a joke,” he muttered. “They must know that we know it’s a front. They just want an excuse to complain to us about the Southern Water Tribe.”
Iroh hummed thoughtfully. “Indeed, it is likely. But we have prepared. We will enjoy the festivities and deal with their complaints tomorrow.”
The pair enjoyed the remainder of their tea mostly in silence. Now and again, Iroh would say something to make his nephew roll his eyes fondly, and Zuko would retort with something that would earn him a chuckle out of his uncle. Zuko was glad that Iroh had maintained the patience necessary to force this time on him when he had first assumed the throne. This was easily the best part of his day, even if it was only a twenty minute reprieve.
Before long they had finished the pot, and when Iroh began to unfold himself, Zuko wordlessly moved to his side, offering a hand to help him up. Iroh took it, if for no other reason than to graciously accept the gesture.
The old man gathered their cups onto the tray once he was up. “Will the Lady Mai be joining us tonight?”
Sighing, Zuko looked away, off to the side. “I don’t know. You know how she is. She’ll come if she feels like it. Probably not, though.”
Iroh nodded, taking a moment to look upon his nephew with twinkling eyes. There was some sadness hidden behind his gentle gaze, some aphorism doubtlessly loaded on the tip of his tongue, but now was not the time for such a conversation. His nephew was glad for that. “Thank you for sharing this time with me, Zuko.”
“Of course, uncle.” Zuko held the door open for his uncle as he walked out. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“I look forward to it, nephew.” Iroh smiled once more at his Fire Lord, and then turned to walk down the hall. He nodded politely at the guards as he passed by.
Standing solemnly before the entrance of the banquet hall, Zuko considered just walking in and then right back out. If he just showed face, maybe that would be enough to fulfil his responsibilities to the event. He sighed and dragged a hand down his face. It would be a bad idea. Besides, he could hear Jang's furious ranting in his ear already.
Zuko resigned himself to a night of vacuous pleasantries and entered the hall. Orange paper lanterns cast a gentle glow across rows of large tables with intricately patterned maroon tablecloths. Most of them were filled with members of his own court, but at one was seated a group in blue tunics. His esteemed guests and their entourage. At the far end of the hall, some standing attendees hovered by a table of artfully stacked glasses full of wine as they gabbed. Upon his arrival, the room stilled, and all those seated rose to their feet. All in attendance bowed to greet the Fire Lord.
Zuko raised a hand to dismiss the formality, and quiet chatter returned to the room. The Water Tribe table, he noted, was noticeably quiet as he walked by. He nodded to them, and they nodded back. Zuko scanned the room for his uncle, stopping short of the table with the drinks as he spied Iroh speaking with an older woman wearing water tribe blues. She was evidently quite delighted with what his uncle had to say, judging by the way she was laughing and fanning at her face.
"Oh, you devilish old flirt!" Zuko gagged with as much decorum as he could muster. He absolutely did not want to walk in on that conversation. Instead, after ensuring that no one was calling for his attention, he made his way to the left side of the room, where he quietly slipped away to a balcony to collect himself.
It was tradition for Zuko to take frequent breaks on these patios to break up the tortuous train of greetings and aimless banter. The palace attendants had even taken to leaving cushioned chairs out here before parties, just in case their lord decided to catch a breather. He leaned against the stone railing, letting his gaze drift over a pleasant view of the palace garden, and then up to the waxing moon, as he silently bemoaned his predicament and prepared himself join the party. Unfortunately, he couldn't stay out here all night.
He’d much rather be dealing with his guests' southern cousins tonight. They would be much more amicable. Their boisterous laughter would also have graciously undone the stifling formality of the gathering. Of course, if he could pick who they’d send, he’d love to see Katara. That would just be wishful thinking, though. He hadn’t seen much of her in the years after his coronation, as she’d seemingly elected to stay out of political affairs. It had come as a surprise to him the first time Aang had visited for talks alone, claiming that Katara was tending to the air temple.
Still, they had at least kept regular correspondence. Zuko was almost embarrassed with the volume of letters he’d sent to her over the last three years. A little over a year ago though, the time between their letters had suddenly become very long, and her responses increasingly cordial. It had stung then, and now it had been many months since he’d last heard from her. He wondered if the way he always wrote back right away had made him appear desperate. It probably did, but he was desperate. Besides, he missed her too much to care. He missed her more than he had any right to. After all, he wasn’t here staring at the moon to pine for Sokka’s company, or Aang’s. Or even Mai's. Not that he didn’t miss them, too.
Zuko’s gaze drifted from the moon and onto the stone beneath his hands, where he idly traced the thin cracks and grooves on the surface. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had last shared any meaningful time with anyone other than his uncle. He was constantly surrounded by people in the palace. Guards, advisors, attendants, secretaries, but they didn’t count. Mai didn’t count either, not when they hadn’t so much as held hands in months. Not when even before, the only things they ever talked about anymore were matters of state. At least this way they weren't constantly bickering. Although maybe a fight would be preferable to this wretched loneliness.
His sulk was interrupted by a deep timbre carried on light, measured footsteps.
“Ah, Lord Zuko. What a surprise. I’m sorry to disturb you.”
Zuko groaned internally, tightly squeezing his eyelids shut in place of rubbing them, and turned around to turn half of his face to Amorok, hoping that he wasn’t scowling too harshly.
The councilman seemed unperturbed enough to impose himself on the Fire Lord. He was holding a wine glass and he gently swirled its contents. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”
Could this bastard be any less subtle? “Indeed.” Zuko replied flatly.
Amorok smiled at him lopsidedly. “I’ve never had the pleasure of visiting the Fire Nation during the fall. All of my trips have been in the summer, if you recall. It was quite a shock to me, the first time.”
“It can indeed be quite a shock,” Zuko echoed. He shifted slightly to face the man in earnest. He was being too rude. “Join me tomorrow, if you'd like, in a walk through the garden. We’re very proud of it. The chrysanthemums are in bloom this time of year. ”
“It would be a pleasure.” Amorok took a sip from his goblet, casting a pensive look into the distance. His long black hair was tied back in a tight braid and still against the breeze, exposing his thin face and naturally gaunt cheekbones. His nose projected forward, giving him an aristocratic profile. He was taller than Zuko, but not by much, and probably not too much older either. “I must thank you for your hospitality, Lord Zuko. We’re honored that you have graciously accepted to host us.”
Zuko fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course.”
Amorok nodded. “It’s a good thing, you know? To have this meeting. Many of my fellow councilmen thought this matter to be too trivial to warrant a visit to the Fire Lord. But it’s important that we start somewhere. Open a dialogue. Our nations have not been engaging in nearly enough diplomacy. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Zuko narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps.”
Amorok continued. “Of course, we in the north understand that the southern territory has has been plagued by many urgent matters that required your immediate attention. We very much appreciate the Fire Nation’s efforts on that front.”
He knew this was coming. Still, he had at least hoped that Amorok would have had the decency to spring this conversation on him amongst their respective statesmen, instead of in private. “It is our honor to do our part in restoring the prosperity of the Southern Water Tribe, councilman.”
“Yes, and Chief Arnook is pleased with the progress of the restoration. Wolf Cove has recovered quite spectacularly, I hear. That being said…” Amorok’s tone shifted ever so slightly to something a bit more aloof, although the crooked smile on his face did not change. “Concerns among the council are becoming increasingly pronounced. Their worries are largely unfounded, of course. But as their fellow councilman, I must take them into consideration."
Zuko was aware. He allowed to Amorok continue regardless.
"Some feel as though our brothers and sisters in the south are not keen on sharing their newfound prosperity with the north. It is true that the north has not done its part in protecting them these last hundred years. But it's been a long time. And now that we are returning to normalcy, many of my countrymen would like to see our people formally reunited under the chiefdom."
Amorok's cup had run dry by now. He rolled it carefully in his hands, like he was appraising something of great value. "Hakoda has done an excellent job rebuilding the southern territory, and allocating the reparations you have generously bestowed to him. But he is not the leader of our nation. He has not consulted Chief Arnook about the north's interests in the restoration. And he has accepted the donations straight from your hand, without the mediation of the northern council."
Zuko was no fool. Amorok's deprecation of Hakoda was meant to direct Zuko's outrage away from the subtle accusations cast directly at himself. Zuko resolved to be twice outraged instead, and draw something substantiative out of this tiresome game.
"Yes, the funds were specifically allocated for southern restoration," Zuko started, his voice deliberately steely. "so I elected to bestow them directly to the southern council. It stands to reason that they would utilize them more efficiently than a council a world's width away. Besides, the government in the south was in shambles after the war. Providing them with some legitimacy has succeeded in expediting reconstruction. Without them, I imagine that the Southern Water Tribe would still be in ruins."
Amorok's eyes were now narrowed, his infuriating grin thinning dangerously close to a grimace. "Be that as it may, many in the north are concerned that your bolstering of the southern council is engendering... ah, confusion, regarding their place in our nation. They are still members of our tribe."
Zuko could have scoffed. Members of a tribe that abandoned them? That made no effort to supplement the Fire Nation's contributions with their own? "The war has caused plenty of confusion for us all," he said instead. "I'm sure that Chief Arnook and Chief Hakoda can come to an amicable agreement in regards to this issue."
Zuko's statement put a firm end to the conversation, and although Amorok was no longer smiling, he acquiesced. "Indeed, one can hope. Please, allow me to excuse myself - Uki is my senior on the council. He would be quite embarrassed to see that I have imposed myself on the Fire Lord."
Zuko waved his hand, and Amorok offered a terse bow of his head before turning around and drifting back to the party. Zuko resumed his post gazing out over the garden, hoping that his ruminating would not go interrupted a second time. Before long though, he once again heard footsteps approaching from behind him.
"Ah, nephew!" This intrusion he didn't mind. Zuko turned his head to meet his uncle's greeting - and a sharp whistle flew just by his ear, taking with it a stray hair.
Zuko blinked. For a moment, the din of the party disappeared as the world went silent. His eyes darted to the shadows of the surrounding rooftops - nothing - as his mind scrambled to process what had just happened. He glanced forward again to see Iroh barreling toward him, eyes wide, face screwed up in panic, and he grunted as his uncle tackled him to the floor. They landed in a heap as another whistle shot through the air - screaming and thudding - Zuko didn't know where the noise was coming from. He didn't care. Frantically scanning his surroundings, he suddenly caught sight of the assassin in the distance, perched upon a rooftop. The figure looked like it was loading another bolt.
Zuko scrambled to his feet as he shot thick streams of billowing fire into the dark, blazing an arc that blanketed the surrounding rooftops. He stood still for a moment, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation as the flames cleared, leaving only little smoldering embers scattered across the ledges casting a soft orange glow. The figure was gone.
Zuko turned to Iroh.
"Uncle!"
He dropped to his knees beside his uncle just as the first of the partygoers rushed onto the patio to see General Iroh silently writhing on his side with a crossbow bolt lodged deep in his back, and the Fire Lord, pale and panic-stricken, softly stammering words of comfort as he delicately held his uncle's shoulders to keep him still.