Chapter Text
Zuko’s cold weather robes, which the royal tailor had been so confident in while Zuko was standing there pinned up in the sweltering Fire Nation heat, seemed truly, laughably thin now.
They weren’t even made to his exact measurements. He hadn’t stopped in Caldera City long enough to have the robes properly tailored, between the time it took to respond to his father’s summons and the scheduled departure of the Ryumaru bound for the North Pole, and so the tailor had sewn them ahead of his arrival and quickly altered them to fit. He’d done a good job despite the rush, but they weren’t perfect. The wind cut through the gaps where the robe’s fit was just slightly too loose, and the skin around his scarred eye felt raw from the cold, even with his hood pulled up and cinched as tightly as it would go.
Zuko took a bracing breath and felt the chill recede, just a bit. At this rate, he was going to be exhausted by the time he reached the palace, using his breath of fire far more than he had in… basically ever, really, just to stay warm. It hadn’t exactly been necessary in the warm climate of Caldera City, and even less so in the tropical humidity he’d grown accustomed to in his last few years of… schooling, living at this grandfather’s insistence in an empty estate on one of the distant isles of the Fire Nation’s outer archipelago.
(Well, estate was a generous term. It had certainly been empty, but it was smaller and lonelier than anywhere he’d ever lived. When he’d first arrived, Zuko had thought he’d be sent to one of the boarding schools the outer archipelago was known for, the roof of which he could just see peeking over the trees on the other side of the island. He’d thought, maybe when he was well enough—but he'd learned very quickly to stop asking about that.
Anyway, his education had been the best, and he’d done well, clearly, because his father was trusting him with this now.)
They’d been waiting for the Northern Water Tribe ship for almost an hour now, their own ship stalled outside the great ice wall protecting the city. He hadn’t spent this long on a ship since—well, in years. Since he’d left Caldera City. It had made him a little seasick, those first few days on the water.
He was… in bad shape, last time. His memories of that journey were hazy, but even now the rolling motion of the ship left him feeling strangely breathless. Being below deck, combined with the churning waves, just made him more ill. The fresh air helped.
That little remedy was less of a problem near the Fire Nation, but now the weather had turned from chilly to brutally cold. The outside air was suddenly much less welcoming. Standing on the deck, eyes fixed on the horizon, and trying not to think about the sterile claustrophobia of his quarters beneath him was much less pleasant with the frigid wind biting his cheeks.
Finally, finally, one section of the wall shivered, sloughing ice and slush into the water until a perfectly round door appeared. It wasn’t very large, and the craft that passed through the opening could hardly be called a ship, with only three crewmen on board. The captain of the Ryumaru leaned up over the rail to peer down at it testily, and then glanced back at Zuko with the briefest flash of irritation before he seemed to remember himself. Zuko shrugged his robe up a little defensively under that flash of a glare. It wasn’t his fault they’d taken so long, or come in such a tiny vessel that they’d have to struggle to get down to them, instead of shuffling Zuko across the gangway with his bags and being done with him.
The captain just grumbled and turned away to bellow orders at the crew, and within moments they were urging the little boat closer, rigging up Zuko’s meager belongings to crane down onto the Water Tribe boat. He didn’t have much with him, hardly more than a couple trunks, and mostly stuffed with different ceremonial robes for different occasions, all stitched from the same heavy but likely still too thin fabric. The captain eyed him again, as though sizing up whether Zuko would need to be craned down with the rest of it. Zuko ignored him and started for the ladder on his own.
The ladder bolted to the hull was metal, and had been subjected to the icy spray of the sea for the last idle hour, never mind the last few frigid days of sailing. He nearly slipped on the third rung and had to force himself to slow down. He pushed back the irritated part of him that just wanted this over with as he edged down the rest of the way. His boots were, apparently, going to be a problem too, with no grips to speak of, so he really was off to a great start.
He had to jump the last couple feet from the ladder to the boat, robes swishing out around him in the wind. It barely swayed under his landing, as the two men at the sides of the boat shifted their arms into mirrored, flowing stances. Zuko watched them with interest, trying not to stare too openly—he’d never seen any waterbending before. Their stances were much looser than a firebender’s, soft edged and with an almost tidal rhythm.
The waterbenders shifted again and quelled the little wave that rocked the boat as the crane dropped Zuko’s luggage down onto the deck. Zuko hesitated, unsure which of the men was the captain. They made no effort to introduce themselves, but the one that wasn’t busy steadying the boat was eyeing him shrewdly, so… probably him. Zuko bowed, then offered his arm in greeting, in the Water Tribe way like their cultural advisor had shown him.
The Water Tribesman just looked at him for a moment, all stony faced and silent, and then turned his face back up toward the ship. The crew of the Ryumaru was already hauling the crane away above them.
“Just you?” the boat captain asked after a moment, surprise edging into his tone.
They’d been expecting a whole royal retinue, maybe, when they’d heard they were off to escort a prince of the Fire Nation inside their walls. Zuko eyed his small huddle of luggage self-consciously. He knew how he looked. Royalty was a loose fit on him, at best, and had been for years. But Grandfather had tasked his father with selecting a Cultural Liaison for the Northern Water Tribe, and his options were… limited, considering what would have been appropriate from the royal family of one nation to another. Zuko felt Azula’s parting barb at him dig under his ribs again, reminding him why she hadn’t been considered for the task: Father is only sending you because he doesn’t want to waste anyone worthwhile on the Water Tribes.
But Zuko had hoped that the reason behind his father’s choice wouldn’t be obvious to his hosts. He needed this to go well, and the last thing he wanted was for his first impression to be an offended, This is all you have to offer?
Zuko bit back the urge to make excuses, or try to justify himself, aware how flimsy any argument he could make would sound. Instead he just nodded slightly, unsure what else to say. The man seemed, if not satisfied with that, at least unwilling to press him, though he stared at him a moment longer before turning back to instruct his men to head back toward the city.
The Ryumaru turned to leave even before Zuko had disappeared behind the walls. He watched the shape of it blur behind the frosted ice as the waterbenders sealed their entrance behind them, and then determinedly put it out of his mind. They crossed the bay to where several dozen inlets opened up into a meshwork of carefully crafted waterways, woven with a much more structured city planning than the historic winding streets of the Caldera Downtown.
Zuko caught the captain watching him and remembered a moment too late to school his expression. He knew he must look like an unworldly fool, but the captain didn’t seem offended, only interested, and Zuko couldn’t completely disguise his awe. The architecture here was so far removed from what he was exposed to in the Fire Nation that the sight of it left him speechless, stretching out before him in rows upon rows down the spidering waterways leading from the bay surrounding the gates.
The midday sun glanced across the crystalline roofs of the buildings, all seamlessly sculpted. In the light, the edges of the structures were almost as blue as the sky. The sun glanced across the fine details in the walls, so that each segment of the city showed the personality of the artisan responsible for it. It looked as though the whole city was carved from one precious slab of white jade, a work of art in itself and near flawless in its design. The ice was likely smoothed and reshaped by hundreds of hands, a whole community taking responsibility for the vision of the home they occupied.
Zuko leaned over the side for a closer look.The canals were narrow, the waterways inky blue and deceptively deep. Two boats of this size might be able to slide past one another, with the careful guidance of a watertribe navigator. Even the walls of the waterways were delicately carved, with the sort of breathtaking detail that showed how truly trivial their creations were to the masters that built them, that the gentle lapping of the waves slowly wearing down their hard work was hardly a concern. There were no railings along the walkways, as though the waterbenders couldn’t bear to separate themselves from gentle tug of the currents any more than necessary.
It really was beautiful, but more than that, it was an incredible display of the tribe’s waterbending mastery.
Zuko could see the palace rising in the distance, diamond white where its towers caught the sun. They followed the canal deeper into the city, until the walkways started to grow more crowded. A few people stopped to stare at them as they passed under a moon bridge spanning the water. Zuko tried to resist the urge to look, but—he glanced up, and caught the eye of a woman bundled up in heavy furs, tugging her knee-height children along with both hands. She faltered as she caught his gaze, and then hastily turned away. Zuko frowned, and turned his gaze on to the next person, whose attention skittered away almost as quickly as hers had.
He turned then, and his gaze glanced along another boy his age, and he almost turned away from him too, but… Zuko’s breath caught at the sight of him.
His hair was stark white, the color of freshly fallen snow, sections braided and pulled carefully back into the half-shaved style he’d seen on a few of the other young men. A girl with black hair pulled up into an intricate looping style walked on his right, with an indulgent smile twisting her lips at whatever he was saying. The girl on his left, brown-haired with looping braids framing her face, looked much less amused.
He threw his hands up animatedly, and the edge of his words caught on the wind, not enough for Zuko to hear what he was saying, but enough to send a strange little thrill through his chest at the passion in his tone.
The boy’s gaze flicked down at the boat then, his attention raking over them and away just as quickly, still caught up in whatever thought had him so riled up. He almost seemed to jolt, glancing back once more at Zuko. Their eyes met, and Zuko felt something warm and uncomfortable rising in his chest as his gaze pierced through him, and the barest hint of surprise crossed his face—
But then his expression shuttered, and the phantom of a grimace passed over him. His mouth snapped shut, and he turned almost immediately on his heel to stalk away. Zuko’s heart dropped through his stomach. The girls faltered in their steps, and followed his gaze as though to find the source of his sudden turn in mood. A look of understanding crossed the black haired girl’s face; a twin expression of contempt flashed through the other girl’s eyes. They both turned away as one to follow after him.
Zuko twisted his fingers in the front of his cloak and refocused his gaze resolutely on the path ahead. He took a breath to steady himself, because—because it was cold, and then another, because it didn’t matter, he wasn’t here for any of those people, and it didn’t matter—
“How does it feel?” the captain asked.
Zuko startled. He turned and found the captain staring at him curiously. His heartbeat felt a little too quick in his chest. Over the captain’s shoulder, he thought he saw the boy and his companions turning the corner. He resisted the urge to look.
“How—what?” Zuko asked.
“How does it feel to be the first Fire National to pass through the walls in almost a century?” he asked. The words felt well practiced, the sort of thing he was sure they’d discussed in their council meetings as the details of the cultural exchange were being finalized.
The first in almost a century. A new era of peace.
But the way the man said it made it feel like there was something else layered beneath his words. Even Zuko, who at eighteen was by far the youngest on the boat, could remember the war. He’d been ten years old when the Fire Nation began withdrawing from the Earth Kingdom, thirteen when—when the rest happened, and his grandfather had formally reached out to the other nations, and the peace talks had finally, officially begun. It wasn’t a long time, after a century of war. Zuko straightened his spine under the scrutiny, suddenly tense, and very aware of the way the man was looking at him.
“It’s an honor to be welcomed into your city,” Zuko responded, tense and ever polite. The man snorted faintly—or maybe he was just huffing from the cold—and turned away again to steer them around another bend.
They crossed through a wide courtyard dotted with enormous sculpted vases and ascended the stairs to the palace. The halls echoed strangely. It was surprisingly warm inside for a building carved entirely from ice, though compared to the warmth of the Fire Nation, Zuko still found himself tugging his robe slightly tighter as he trailed through the halls. He braced himself once they passed from the echoing halls of the outer palace into the inner palace chambers. Slowly the cold austerity of the entryway gave way to something warmer and softer, decorated with woven tapestries and furs. The corridors were much less cavernous here, and slightly rounded at the ceiling. Zuko found himself glancing up and wondering whether the curving architecture was an artistic choice, or simply a more natural shape for a waterbending sculptor to form.
A wide door marked the end of the hallway. There were no guards posted outside, and his guide seemed unconcerned with announcing him. He pushed his way into the room without so much as a knock.
Several men were gathered around a table inside, some sitting, some standing and leaning, all conversing casually with one another. Zuko hesitated. He had prepared himself for a throne room, not a meeting hall, or whatever this was supposed to be. This looked less like a chief and his advisors and more like… he was interrupting a more private gathering, far too informal for it to possibly be appropriate for Zuko to interject.
All of the careful mental preparation he’d done left him in an instant, looking at the men all crowding around the table. Zuko took them all in quickly, but none of them seemed to be wearing a crown, or royal robes, or really anything that might set them apart.
Was one of them the chief? The Northern Water Tribe wasn’t like the Fire Nation, or the Earth Kingdom. His grandfather’s ministers had described the North as a monarchic chiefdom, and had given very little else in detail. But he knew the chief wasn’t… technically a king… Should he bow? Zuko had never met the man before, but not recognizing him felt like a poor excuse to not show him the proper respects in his own palace. His grandfather would never accept an excuse like that, nor would his father.
Oblivious to Zuko’s thoughts, his guide leaned against the doorway casually and hooked a thumb in his direction.
“Chief,” he said.
One of the men leaning over the table glanced up.
“Ah, Prince Zuko,” he said. Chief Arnook glanced behind Zuko very briefly, but he took his lack of retinue in stride, refocusing his attention solely on him. He left his men to join Zuko by the door. Zuko made every effort not to tense under the man’s gaze. “It’s good to meet you. How are you liking the city so far?”
“It’s beautiful,” Zuko said honestly. Chief Arnook nodded approvingly. His fondness for his city was clear in his expression. He probably thought that Zuko’s praise was by rote.
Almost everything that the Fire Nation knew about the Water Tribes was from the Southern Water Tribe, and… well. Zuko had seen paintings in his history texts during his schooling. He’d been warned that they likely wouldn’t be accurate to the modern Agna Qel'a, but to say that they were inaccurate was an incredible understatement.
Those hundred year old paintings hardly held a candle to what he’d seen even on the short boat ride to the palace.
“I know you’ve come a long way, so you can relax for today,” Chief Arnook said.
If anything that made Zuko more tense. He was… well, he’d expected to start right away. Did he look so tired that the chief thought he wouldn’t be able to learn his new duties properly, or…? No, he was probably just trying to be a good host.
Zuko nodded his thanks, but tried to stand a little straighter, anyway, in case he looked like he wasn’t giving the chief his full attention.
“We’ve prepared a welcome banquet for tonight, if you’ll join us?” Chief Arnook asked.
“I would be honored,” Zuko said.
“As would we,” he said. “Once you’re settled, you can begin preparing for your duties here. We’ll start by giving you a primer on our culture and history, to orient you. My daughter has volunteered to guide you.”
There was a hint of pride in his voice at the mention of his daughter.
“She’s quite the capable teacher,” Chief Arnook added. “Of course, we hope that you can teach us as much as you can learn from us.”
He’d been prepared thoroughly before his journey, and sent along with a stack of assorted documents nearly the length of his forearm, full of information on the Fire Nation’s history and culture that had been deemed acceptable to share with the Northern Water Tribe. He’d studied them thoroughly on the Ryumaru, and had been dismayed to find that quite a bit had been… updated, since he’d last met with his history tutor. Those papers were stuffed into the bottom of one of his trunks, now, wrapped in oilcloth to protect them from the damp during his journey. It was going to take time to get through them.
Zuko swallowed thickly and nodded. If he could do well enough in his role here and learn from the Northern Water Tribe… then he’d be an expert, and maybe that knowledge would be worth enough to secure him a position in… in the Fire Palace, even, and maybe—
He shouldn’t get ahead of himself.
“My daughter was meant to join…” Chief Arnook trailed off, as the latch clicked open behind Zuko. “Ah, there she is.”
Zuko’s greeting stuck to his tongue, caught off guard when he recognized the black haired girl with the looping hairstyle from the canal. She was still wearing the same heavy purple fur coat, rosy-cheeked from the cold as though she’d only just come inside moments ago. She held herself like she was slightly out of breath and trying not to show it, lips pressed into a polite smile.
“It’s you,” Zuko said, before he could stop himself. She didn’t seem surprised to see him.
“This is my daughter, Princess Yue,” the chief said. “You’ve met?”
“Not really,” Zuko said. “We crossed paths on the canal, along with, uh…” Zuko trailed off. He was half-way through gesturing vaguely at his hair before he felt self conscious and tucked his hands back into his sleeves.
“Prince Sokka,” Chief Arnook guessed, catching his meaning anyway. “Spirits only know where that boy’s run off to.”
Prince Sokka. He thought of the boy he’d seen walking alongside the princess. It—made sense, that he was a prince. He had—a striking sort of look to him, and… Zuko felt dangerously close to flushing, and he didn’t have the cold to blame. He felt the princess’s gaze on him and very pointedly fixed his attention on Chief Arnook, instead.
Thankfully, the chief didn’t seem to notice his fumbling. He glanced back into the room, toward the men gathered there. “Hahn?”
One of the young men glanced up, a little too quickly, like he’d been eavesdropping and was doing a poor job of concealing it—a skill, Zuko thought privately, that they mastered at a much younger age in the Fire Palace.
The chief either didn’t notice his impropriety or didn’t mind. He waved him over to join them. “I’d like you to show Prince Zuko around.”
With obvious reluctance, Hahn peeled away from the table.
“Of course,” Hahn said, though he made no attempt to match his expression to the false-eagerness of his tone. He nodded to the chief, to Princess Yue, and then—
—without sparing more than a single glance in Zuko’s direction, he made for the door. Zuko, who’d been half-way through offering his hand to introduce himself properly, stared after the man, then let his hand drop. Zuko glanced back at Princess Yue. Her smile had gone a bit thin, and she nodded a little apologetically when she caught his eye. When he turned back, his guide was already gone.
Zuko hastily made his bows and followed the man out.
The fires in the great hall were roaring, and between the crush of bodies around him and the heavy fabric of his robes, warmth was finally working its way back into Zuko’s fingers. He was starving, after going straight from his travels to a whole day of keeping his breathing carefully measured against the cold wind sweeping off the canals and down the twisting halls of the palace. Hahn had shuffled him through what must have been the world’s most unenthusiastic tour, which had seemed at the same time designed to subject him to the gawking of as many curious onlookers as possible.
Zuko wouldn’t say the looks he’d received since he’d arrived at the banquet were… unkind, per se, but he’d definitely felt the tension behind their stares as he was led inside and abandoned to his seat at the table. He understood. He did. A century of war could hardly be smoothed by less than a decade of peace time, and Zuko didn’t expect it to be. He was used to the scrutiny, anyway, and for much more personal reasons than being the first person from the Fire Nation in a hundred years allowed within the city’s walls. He straightened just slightly under the weight of their carefully guarded stares.
This would be easier if he hadn’t grown so used to being alone in the hours between visits from his tutors. The last banquet Zuko could remember attending, he’d been young enough to hide behind his uncle’s robes. The war hadn’t even ended yet, and it wasn’t the same anyway, because no one expected a child to be charming, or to know what to say.
But building a relationship with the Water Tribes wasn’t meant to be easy. Father never would have offered the position to him, if it was a simple task. That was the entire point of giving him a chance to prove himself.
The chair next to him scraped back roughly, startling Zuko from his thoughts. He glanced over and froze.
Prince Sokka spared him a glance, and for a moment a mix of emotions passed over his face, warring too quickly for Zuko to read them. The look he settled on was more than familiar, though: clearly unhappy to see him, but with a determined set to his shoulders—barely tolerating his presence, and only due to his… obligations as the chief’s son, Zuko guessed. It was the same look he’d received from most of his tutors, or the spare staff in his estate, unable to say no to the Fire Lord’s demands of them, but certainly wishing they were anywhere else.
Zuko snuffed a little spark of annoyance, a privately self-conscious part of him scraping against the edges of his temper. He hadn’t done anything, and he didn’t want to sit here ignoring rude stares either. Zuko turned his gaze resolutely back across the table. Chief Arnook was seated across from him. Princess Yue was at his side, with the same brown-haired girl he’d seen walking along the canal with them earlier.
Thankfully, they weren’t forced to sit in stiff silence for long. The chief stood from his position at the table, and the conversation in the hall lulled into hushed whispers as the other guests waited for him to speak. It was just one more difference from the severe dinners hosted in the Fire Nation, that the chief had to pause a moment to wait for the last threads of conversations to die down.
“Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation,” Chief Arnook said. A heavy silence fell over the hall, broken only by the crackle of the fires, and the chief’s commanding voice. “All of our nations have suffered, after nearly a century of war. As the three nations begin to remember what it means to be at peace, we hope to re-open our borders, to welcome the world back behind our walls—”
Zuko noticed the princess’s companion staring very intently at Prince Sokka. Their poorly-concealed scowls were nearly identical. That seemed… a strange reaction. Did they not want the Northern Water Tribe to shed their isolationist policies, now that the war was over?
The chief gestured to Zuko’s seat, and his attention snapped back too late—he’d lost the thread of his speech. Everyone turned to look at him, and his heart thumped under the weight of their collective stares.
Zuko forced himself stiffly to his feet and bowed. He avoided looking at the rest of them when he raised his head. The chief’s expression was not unkind, at least, and that alone made him relax marginally. Beside the chief, Princess Yue’s smile twitched, just barely. Zuko resisted the urge to glance at Prince Sokka, certain she was reacting to whatever he’d done to catch her gaze.
Zuko sat down again. He clenched his fists over his knees beneath the table. His fingers felt clumsy and faintly numb, this time not because of the cold.
“You can consider this your first real introduction to Water Tribe culture,” he said. Zuko nodded stiffly. He hoped he hadn’t been too obvious, in allowing his attention to wander, that the chief wouldn’t think he wasn’t taking his duties seriously. He did his best to exude polite attention, as the chief added, “We look forward to building an alliance that will strengthen both our nations.”
This was why he was here, he had to remind himself, not to attend banquets or wonder at the prince’s strange reactions to him.
“Now Master Pakku and his students will perform,” Chief Arnook said.
Relief rushed through him as the attention swept away again, down to the other end of the table, where several waterbenders had gathered. Zuko had assumed the fixtures in the corners of the room were statues, but they turned out to be functional reservoirs. The waterbenders swept their arms up and drew the water from inside them, and the students took their positions before the master.
The girl beside the princess glared briefly at the waterbenders, then rolled her eyes and turned away. Zuko glanced back at them, but it looked—well, it looked impressive to him, but the extent of his experience with waterbending had been gathered today. The rest of the audience seemed to appreciate the display, too, as the benders worked through their forms.
The staff took the show as their cue to begin serving the banquet hall. The center of the table was quickly stacked with dishes piled with white pickled fish, giant sea crab, and seaweed stew. One of the servants leaned past the chief with a giant bowl of soup, and then began filling the princess’s bowl with bits of bright red poached squid floating in a clear broth.
There was some kind of stewed shriveled fruit that vaguely resembled an ocean kumquat, but tinged purple and boiled within an inch of its life. Zuko eyed it skeptically as another servant scooped a heaping ladle into his bowl, with a look on her face like she was gifting him some great treat.
Everyone else seemed to be serving themselves from the platters settled at the center of their tables, save for Zuko’s table. The chief and the princess sat back patiently as the servants leaned around them. Beside Princess Yue, the brown-haired girl was still shooting rude glances at the waterbenders. The venom in her expression reminded him so much of Azula that he glanced quickly away, before she caught him staring and decided to turn that look on him instead.
Prince Sokka leaned forward across the table and picked up one of the serving forks set on a platter of seal steaks. Almost as quickly, a servant materialized at his elbow and politely wrestled it from his hand. He huffed and settled back again, and watched dully as she dressed his plate for him.
A polite scattering of applause signaled the end of the waterbending demonstration. It wasn’t until the benders had returned to their tables that Princess Yue reached for her chopsticks. Zuko followed her lead, but then paused again, uncertain how exactly to tackle the giant sea crab leg that had been foisted on him. Was there a dignified way to eat something larger than his head?
He settled on the not-ocean-kumquats instead, which were much squishier than they looked, and incredibly salty, but overall not… not offensive. Zuko chewed slowly, pointely did not focus too much on the texture, and hoped that impression held through the whole mouthful.
Prince Sokka kept cutting glances across the table. Zuko tried to follow his gaze subtly. The princess and the brown-haired girl were leaning their heads together just slightly to combat the din of conversation in the room. She turned and murmured something in Princess Yue’s ear that made her hastily stifle a laugh behind her hand.
Prince Sokka probably wished he was on that side of the table, seated next to the princess, instead of over here with him...
But when he glanced back at Prince Sokka he had turned away again, the smallest frown twisting his lips. The prince seemed preoccupied, picking at a stray thread on his glove. His white hair was tied back, with tiny braids twisted through the strands, but a few flyaway hairs had worked their way loose to the point where they clung to his forehead in the warm heat of the great hall. With his gaze cast down toward his hands, his eyelashes dusted lightly against his cheeks. Backlit by the fire in the hearth, he may as well have been glowing, warm flickers of light dancing across his brown skin.
Agni, he was...
As though sensing Zuko’s gaze on him, he glanced up. Zuko quickly turned toward his tea, face burning, and, shit, he was pretty sure he’d caught him looking. He picked up his tea cup, pointedly staring ahead, and took a sip—
—and promptly choked, because the drink was warm and fermented and strangely viscous, and absolutely not tea. The sourness startled him so much that he inhaled a mouthful of the stuff and set himself off into another fit of coughing.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Prince Sokka turn on him with a strange look, then quickly away again. Zuko coughed and shoved the offending whatever the hell that was away from him, face burning. Oh, that was just—great, definitely a great way to make an impression. His cheeks burned. It was only the phantom memory of stinging welts from strict etiquette teachers that kept him from propping his elbows on the table to bury his face in his hands.
Water Tribe dining customs were incomprehensible. Halfway through the meal, before their chief had even finished eating, people started to rise from their seats. After another moment, the princess rose from her seat too, and almost at once the prince was gathering his plate to go seize the empty seat next to the brown haired girl. Several of the men just got up and… left, completely, pushing through the doors to the hall without a word. Zuko watched them go with envy, wondering what obligations they were leaving for. Within minutes Zuko was sitting at a little island of his own.
Most of the early-risers were gathering in circles around the room. This, at least, was somewhat familiar—the post-dinner conversation that Zuko had always been whisked away to bed before he could join.
He’d begged to be allowed to stay for those discussions, too, because Lu Ten had told him that that was where the real political dealings took place. He’d always been too eager, though at least his cousin had had the good sense to send him away, and tell him he was too young...
Zuko had half a moment to wonder what he should do now. Did he stay where he was? Should he join one of the circles? Would anyone notice if he just left, like the men he’d seen sneak out as soon as their plates were empty?
Someone tapped him on the shoulder before he could decide.
“Prince Zuko,” Princess Yue said. She gestured back toward one of the groups, settled by the great fire at the edge of the room. “Would you like to join us?”
“Oh,” Zuko said, wanting literally nothing less, “Of course. Thank you.” The princess glanced across the table.
“Sokka, Katara,” Princess Yue said. “Would you like to join us?”
There was an excruciatingly long pause, where both Prince Sokka and the girl, Katara, exchanged a silent look with Princess Yue. Katara crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back slightly to bump shoulders with Prince Sokka, expression very quickly souring.
Prince Sokka glanced down the table at him and briefly caught his eye. The same carefully shuttered expression had slotted back into place, stiff and unnatural compared to the expressiveness he’d shown moments ago when he was speaking with Katara.
“...I think we’ll pass,” Katara said.
Princess Yue frowned just slightly, but sighed and nodded for Zuko to follow her back toward the fire. She settled down in an empty seat next to Hahn, who seemed to be leading the circle. He brushed a hand down her arm when she sat, but she hardly glanced at him before he’d turned to give Zuko a shrewd look.
Princess Yue gestured to the free seat opposite her in the circle. Zuko nodded and settled down on his knees. Several other young men and women, mostly his age or a little older, were sitting with their legs crossed, some leaning casually, some holding drinks. He shifted around to mimic the way they were sitting, hands settled on his knees for want of something to occupy them. The conversation had quieted slightly when he joined them. He straightened a little under their attention.
“Hello,” he said. Should he introduce himself? He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. “Zuko here, uh—” Actually, they probably all knew who he was already. And—the welcome banquet was for him, so of course they did, that was stupid. They were all looking at him now. Zuko gave a small bow and finished hurriedly, “Thank you for inviting me.”
He glanced at Princess Yue for guidance, but she only smiled encouragingly at him. Another beat of silence passed as they watched him expectantly.
“Typically, we begin by offering our guest an opportunity to speak,” Hahn prompted, looking a little annoyed to have to explain.
“To… speak?” Zuko asked.
“To share a story,” Princess Yue explained.
Oh. Zuko glanced around again, and saw that they were all watching him, waiting for him to say something.
“I’m not... I’m not sure I have a story,” Zuko said.
He hadn’t expected to be—put on the spot like this. In the Fire Palace, at least, his presence had been… ignored wasn’t the right word, but his father had certainly expected him to be seen more than heard. He racked his brain for something suitable, trying to imagine what sort of stories they might tell. He wasn’t a war hero, like his uncle or Lu Ten. He’d never been a particularly impressive bender, like his father or Azula. He’d never seen battle. He’d hardly seen anything at all these last five years, beyond the walls of the small estate settled on the outskirts of the Fire Nation archipelago.
Zuko doubted they’d care to hear those stories, because it had been the same thing every day, mostly, seeing his tutors and then returning to the training grounds to practice his firebending again and again. The only real relief from the monotony of it had been his once weekly sword training, which had been an exciting break in his routine for him, but wasn’t that interesting to hear about.
And, well. He supposed he’d snuck out one or twice but that—he wasn’t supposed to, and somehow he’d never been caught, so no, he couldn’t possibly tell them that—
“I’m sure you have at least one,” Hahn prompted. For a moment Zuko was confused, but then Hahn’s glaze flicked very pointedly to Zuko’s left, eyebrow raised.
Zuko sucked in a sharp breath, teeth clenched so tightly that his jaw ached, the sound a sharp grind in his ears.
“Hahn,” Princess Yue hissed. Hahn glanced at her, seeming almost confused by her reaction.
Zuko’s fingers clenched into a fist at his side before his sense caught up with him.
(What was he doing?)
He took a breath.
(Calm down, calm down.)
He couldn’t start picking fights now, on his very first night in the palace. Zuko forced his fingers to uncurl, one by one.
“...The Fire Nation doesn’t have much of an oral storytelling tradition,” Zuko said, and somehow managed to keep his tone neutral.
“Well, you’d better learn, if you’re staying here,” Hahn said.
Yue frowned. Somehow, Zuko managed another nod.
The girl beside him leaned forward and cleared her throat, a little awkwardly. The tension eased, somewhat, as she started in on her own story.
Zuko tried to listen, but he could hardly focus, frustration crawling beneath his skin. His chest felt tight, too hot, and he glanced toward the hearth just to double check that it wasn’t flickering with his breath.
He tried to focus his attention on her story, and—oh.
“He was carrying this basket of fish over his head, and I could see the weave straining,” the girl said. “He’d filled it way too full, but he wanted me to stop telling him how to do his job,” she dropped her voice, and a few people laughed, in anticipation of the punchline—
Oh, he was stupid.
He’d assumed they expected... a war story of some kind, or even a hunting story, or something—at least impressive, like the updates his father had always given his grandfather about Azula’s accomplishments. But no, he could have just told them any story, or made something up. Instead he’d made an ass of himself, and disrespected their traditions when learning their traditions was the whole reason he was here.
He’d thought he was prepared for this, but so far nothing had gone right, from his too-thin robes to his awkward fumbling. At least none of them were paying attention to him anymore, except Princess Yue, who kept shooting him kind looks when she caught his eye. The girl finished her story, and everyone laughed. The sound grated on his nerves. Princess Yue opened her mouth to say something, and, oh no, she was—going to try to be helpful, and give him a second chance—
The banquet hall was suddenly too much—the fires too hot, the conversations too loud, the weight of their stares too heavy. The need to get out of the room was crawling under his skin, and it was all he could do to clench his fists tight in his lap and try to keep his head.
“I’ve traveled a long way,” Zuko interrupted, before Princess Yue could speak. It was inappropriate to leave so early, but what did that matter? He’d already made a poor impression, if he was any more of a disappointment—well, that was just who he was, surely they’d grow used to it soon. “I think I’ll retire early.”
“Oh,” Princess Yue said. “Of course. Do you need someone to show you to your room?”
The last thing he wanted was a repeat of the afternoon’s tour—
“No,” Zuko said, and he was immediately ashamed of how snappish his tone was. His frustration with himself for making a poor impression was bleeding through, but he’d… they were hardly making it easy on him, with their dislike of him written plainly on their faces. Zuko wasn’t certain he could stand the scrutiny of whatever reluctant person the princess might force to be his guide.
Princess Yue had been nothing but kind, though, and she didn’t deserve his temper. Zuko forced himself to his feet. She didn’t even look offended, just smiled in that quietly understanding way of hers, and that only made him feel more guilty.
“I’ll manage, Princess, thank you,” Zuko added, almost an apology. Truthfully, his tour of the palace had hardly been useful. Hahn had seemed as though he was trying to just get it over with, and so he’d gone very quickly and mostly just waved in the general direction of the hallways which held the rooms he described. Zuko was fairly confident he could make it back to the right hallway, at least. He’d figure it out on his own from there.
A rush of cold air swept in from the hall as he pulled the door open, and it took all his self-restraint not to glance self-consciously over his shoulder, to check who might be watching him go.