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Sokka knew his way around the royal palace pretty well by now. Not only did he spend the past two weeks here under the pretense of studying some things at the royal library, but even before that his comings and goings became pretty normal for most of the attendants and servants and guards that ran this place. The studying pretense wasn’t entirely false, he did spend a lot of his time at the library reading about the metalworking that the Fire Nation perfected during the war. He mostly ever scheduled his studying sessions while the Fire Lord was busy – which was most of the time. Zuko had either council meetings, or he held court with the citizens, or he trained this skill or that skill with the best masters in the Nation – how many skills did one person need to master in one lifetime?
Today, on this late afternoon, Sokka decided he was finally bored of reading about smelting different metals, and headed off to the Fire Lord’s training yard to watch him fire bend. It was pretty spectacular, even if it lacked the thrill or the life-or-deathness of fights they were used to during the war. Still, he understood that it wouldn’t do for someone called the Fire Lord to slack off on his bending training, and knew that there was no use in trying to ask Zuko to skip one or two so they could spend some time together.
And don’t get him wrong, Zuko did make time for him. Probably more time than a reasonable Fire Lord should’ve carved out of his busy schedule to meet with his… boyfriend? Sokka still wasn’t sure if he could use that word. They were definitely more than friends. And the word ‘lovers’ just made him feel dirty, even dirtier than he felt when certain chambermaids and attendants looked at him a specific kind of way as he walked past them towards the Fire Lord’s private chambers. Their clandestine romance was sort of an open secret by this point, and as much as Sokka told himself that he didn’t care about others’ opinions, he couldn’t help but feel… something about all that.
Sokka banished those thoughts with a shake of his head, and resumed his energetic stroll through the rock garden. Those thoughts, he knew why he was getting more and more of them of late – he was just homesick. The palace was a fine place to live, and the weather was lovely this time of year if you didn’t count the few frightening thunderstorms every now and then, but his heart yearned for the stretches of snow down south. He knew he was going to leave for the south pole sometime soon, probably sometime next week, but he kept postponing telling Zuko about it. He didn’t even know why, he knew Zuko would be nothing but supportive. Still, he… hesitated.
The sound of swords clanging against each other piqued his interest – so it wasn’t a fire bending practice today, huh? It was something that Sokka knew a thing or two about, instead. How fortuitous it was that he decided to watch the Fire Lord today of all days!
Sokka all but ran the remainder of the rock garden, all to see that the master training Zuko was none other than master Piandao. The master closed his eyes with a slow shake of his head, which Sokka remembered to be a rather bad sign. Zuko was there, of course, a single straight-edged sword in his hand, and a palace guard with the same weapon serving as his sparring opponent. The master said a single word, and the guard deeply bowed and left the training area after returning the sword to a stand by the right side of the master. Zuko, meanwhile, stood up straight facing the master, bowed his head as he prepared to listen to the scolding that was surely about to follow. The sword was still in his hand, pointed up along his back with the tip of it almost touching the bun into which Zuko tied his hair. Even from a distance Sokka was able to tell it was no training sword, and the blade must’ve been as sharp as you’d expect from one of master Piandao’s weapons.
“Young master Sokka,” the master greeted him without making any prior sign that he even noticed his presense. But of course he noticed, even if Sokka tried to stick to the shadows – nothing went past this master. His attention to detail and his surroundings was truly unnatural. “Please, join us,” Piandao gestured at him and pointed at a spot next to Zuko, who only glanced at that spot and then addressed Sokka a brief look. His brow was furrowed, his shoulders still rising and falling in light panting. They must’ve been at this for quite some time. The master, meanwhile, continued: “Fire Lord Zuko’s skill with twin sabers is unquestionable, yet the soul of a straight-edged sword eludes him at every step.”
Zuko said nothing, still hanging his head down waiting for a more concrete critique of his form. Sokka finally reached the place next to him, and greeted the master properly by folding his hands with a deep nod.
“Master Piandao,” he only said to fill the settled silence between the three of them, unsure of what else he could say or what purpose he could serve by being here. But master Piandao of all people never did anything unless it meant something, right?
Sokka actually found it quite comforting to be in the presense of his old sword master. After the war he only visited him a handful of times – according to the master, Sokka could gain nothing by practicing at his school, and only the real world could provide him with appropriate tutelage. Sokka wasn’t sure if it was just a polite way of sending him away, but didn’t dwell on it and considered it a deep compliment and acknowledgment of his skill.
His last visit was about three years ago, to forge a new sword after he finally gave up trying to find his beloved Space sword. The best metal benders of the world combed the forest above which Sokka last held the sword in his hand, and found nothing but debris of Ozai’s destructive fleet of airships. His new sword, even if not made of space rock, was nothing at all to scoff at – it was probably one of the best in the world, and it had a wolf’s face at the crossguard forged in shiny silver. Sokka named it Southern Warrior, and still remembered the approving nod that master Piandao bestowed on him upon hearing the name.
“Young master Sokka, why not you spar with Fire Lord Zuko, and then tell him what he’s doing wrong?”
Master’s words brought Sokka out of his contemplation, and he focused his eyes on Piandao to show him a wide, self-assured grin. He was good enough to teach someone else? Master Piandao considered him a master in his own right after all, capable of detecting what could someone be doing wrong when handling a sword? He, Sokka, was going to point out Zuko’s mistakes and show him how to perform better?
“Of course, master!” Sokka beamed, bright as the sun, his eyes lit up with excitement and pride. “It will be my honor to sho— u-uhm…”
Sokka stumbled over his words when he glanced over at Zuko. His tongue became too heavy to speak, his knees almost bucked under him, and all wind got knocked out of his chest when their eyes met. Zuko looked at him from under his brows with the most intense gaze Sokka had ever seen. It burnt a hole through him as Zuko’s eyes never flickered, never even blinked in the small moment it took for them to look at each other – a small moment that kept on stretching forever from where Sokka was standing. Zuko wasn’t resentful, no no, he wasn’t jealous, or angry, or anything simple like that. It was something layered and complex, each layer burning you hotter than the last. He looked at him like a polar bear-wolf looked at a pretender for his prey. Or maybe how it looked at the prey itself. Or maybe how the prey looked at the polar bear-wolf. If Zuko was an avatar, he would’ve surely been in the avatar state right now.
Sokka swallowed. He was no coward, far from, and he wasn’t scared right now. It was something… layered and complex again that he felt. He couldn’t even begin to know what it was exactly, but whatever it was it made him hesitant to provide his expertise, and certainly even more hesitant to spar with Zuko. Zuko, he took everything so seriously – too seriously. There wasn’t even a chance they were going to laugh about this later, was there?
Zuko took in a long, deep breath, his eyes not leaving Sokka’s until they absolutely had to as Zuko positioned himself into a defensive stance. He was ready to spar him.
“You know, on the other hand,” Sokka tried to back out of this, even making one step back. He adjusted his shell necklace which suddenly felt like it constricted his neck, and cleared his throat before continuing: “I slept on my arm all wrong, and I’m not really in my best shape to teach anyone how to—”
“Fire Lord Zuko already accepted the challenge, young master Sokka,” Piandao ruthlessly pointed out with a graceful gesture directed at Zuko that kept just looking at him. Sokka’s shoulders fell when master Piandao sealed his fate by stating: “To refuse him would be an insult.”
But why did it already feel like he was insulting someone without even doing anything yet? Gah! Fire Nation politics, he was so sick of it. He wanted to go home. Maybe he was going to leave to the south pole sooner than he was planning…
With the heaviest sigh, Sokka placed down the books he checked out from the library safely away from any sword slashing, and reached up for the handle of Southern Warrior that was strapped to his back. It fit his grip perfectly, and made the most beautiful sound as it left its sheathe. Fine, then. If they were going to corner him into teaching Zuko a lesson, then he would do just that.
Slash. Slash. Clang. Schlink.
Zuko was fast, but Sokka was faster. Zuko hit hard, much harder than was needed, but Sokka used it against him. The bright orange light of the setting sun reflected off their clashing blades with each new stroke, the soft wind carrying leaves and petals of the garden between them, never distracting them. It would’ve been a nice quiet afternoon, if not for this.
Clang. Clang. Woosh. Schlink.
Zuko was intense, too intense – that was his downfall. He did not see Sokka’s foot coming when he kicked him in the back of the ankle. Zuko didn’t lose his footing, but he was unbalanced and distracted enough for Sokka to swerve his blade around Zuko’s and fish it out of his grip. Zuko’s face was so distraught as he watched the sword stab into the soft ground that it almost made Sokka feel bad – almost. He took strange pleasure in telling Zuko exactly why he lost.
“It’s your wrist,” he said smugly, sheathing the sword in his back and placing his hands on his hips. Zuko straightened up as well after he picked up his own sword from the ground, looking Sokka straight in the eyes without the intensity that was so present there during their fight. He actually looked kind of… lost? Sokka didn’t let that distract him, and elaborated: “It’s too flexible. Maybe that helps with a curved sword, but with this one your arm must flow with the blade, as straight and as long as it is.”
“Excellent observation, master Sokka,” Piandao concurred with him and nodded slowly.
“And you’re just too stiff, too intense. Your burn too hot, your Flaming Highness,” Sokka continued, a funny smirk creeping up his face. Zuko’s lost expression turned ever so slightly more amused, and a beginning of a smirk appeared on his lips as well.
“Not a proper way of addressing the Fire Lord, but still an apt observation, master Sokka,” Piandao noted, his voice less sure this time.
“And you smell just incredible,” Sokka added, his smirk growing wider with each syllable, his eyes never leaving Zuko’s. It was his turn to stare now, and burn Zuko from the inside with the intensity of his gaze.
“That’s… not untrue, but hardly helpful, master Sokka,” Piandao said in a tone bordering on irritated, his eyes shutting as if to save himself from having to look at Sokka.
Zuko laughed, helpless and disarmed. He dropped his sword and rubbed his forehead with a hand, his shoulders still sharking with laughter that grew silent but not any less present for it.
See? There was no need to take everything so seriously.
“Yes, well. Thank you for your best efforts, master Sokka, Fire Lord Zuko,” Piandao bowed to each of his pupils as they did the same, taking his leave not a moment later than he could. His expression was as stoic as ever, but Sokka could smell his disgruntlement in the air around him – he was done with their young unseriousness.
“See you again soon, master Piandao,” Sokka waved at him even though he knew his master wasn’t going to look at him, and when he turned around, well… Zuko decided to freeze him in his spot once again.
Zuko gently took his face into both hands and pulled him closer. Their lips fell against each other, and it was the easiest thing in the world for Sokka to close his eyes and smile into their kiss. He felt each callous of Zuko’s hands against the skin of his face, and he felt the heat of his breath hitting the space right by his nose. Feeling daring, Sokka decided not to think about the fact they were right in the open for any servant to see. Instead, he snuck his hands up Zuko’s back and pulled him even closer, hungrily biting on his lips to be let in. He wasn’t let in.
Zuko laughed again, and pulled his face back to look at Sokka. His gaze was… soft, and tentative, and gentle. It was warm rather than burning. It set Sokka’s heart racing all the same. He was about to say something foolishly romantic, or something downright stupid, and even parted his lips to do so… Only Zuko saved him by grabbing his hand and leading him away.
“Come with me, master Sokka,” he said, and Sokka did just that, and felt even his ears go red when Zuko added in a low purr: “I’ll demonstrate what extra flexibility in the wrist is good for.”