The Firelord is young and strong, despite his struggles- or perhaps because of them. The Southern Chief is old and strong, and thinks that the boy with the pale skin and gold eyes will be a good man, sound and worthy- or perhaps he already is, and it’s just his own years that make the islander seem so very much at the start of his potential, barely tapped.
Hakoda isn’t drained to the dregs yet by any stretch. But the years pass, just a few, but one after another, and another Solstice meeting comes by. The extreme ends of the year belong to each others’ peoples and their celebrations, but the other two quarters are there to travel the world and work on international relations. What it boils down to is an excuse to have really rollicking parties and reassure everyone that the other side isn’t so bad anymore.
The Southern Tribe’s hosting this year, on the relatively neutral ground of Whale-Tail island. The air is nippy and the ground is frosted, but the joined camps aren’t buried in snow- even so, a lot of the activities are going to be inside around the firepits, as a sop to their easily-chilled guests. Hakoda greets them; Earth Kingdom merchant-nobles, his grown children and the Avatar, a young man now, and the lord of the nation that was once their greatest enemy. He greets them all, and feels old and nearly empty. It’s not a bad feeling- but it’s there, hanging about his lined face and grey-threaded hair.
The feasting goes on into the night.
There are negotiations and arguments, and stories and games and contests of skill, and dancing breaks out soon after the stronger wine does. Aang leads the first round, striding cheerfully by the fire; he is limned with blue arrows and ducking and weaving fit to grace the ballrooms of Ba Sing Se. More follow him, and the great tent is filled with laughing and stamping, men and women dropping their dignity and letting their feet fly. His son and his daughter-in-law practice a strange, scandalous dance from Omashu, whirling face to face in circles through the crowd. Even the young Firelord gets in on the act, bringing what’s been resurrected of the Fire Nation dancing tradition to the floor.
It seems to be designed to show him off like a hot stallion, and the awkwardness that had filled his first ruling years seems to be reserved only for close friends, now. Zuko is in his prime, neither untried nor overly worn, a glass more than half-full and brimming with strength and life.
Later, when the wine’s been drunk and the fire flickers and smoke swirls up to greet the beaming stars, Hakoda can’t help but ask for a sip.
…
The year turns, and it’s half again another before the leaders meet again at the same place, this time for more serious matters. There are several earth kingdoms that don’t wish to resubmit to the yoke of Ba Sing Se, rogue Water-tribesmen committing piracy, everyone must fuss and blame as well as dine and dance- it goes in cycles, the tone of these meetings. Hakoda simply attends and does his best to keep his people’s niche carved out while not making things more difficult than they have to be.
The Firelord’s representatives take the floor for the first few days, before the man himself arrives, quietly. Hakoda goes to greet him, between the end of a meeting and the start of dinner, and is taken aback.
Before, Zuko was brimming with life, enough to revive and revitalize an old chief missing his youth.
Now, he is full with it.
The Firelord stands in his tent, clad in red and cradling his stomach- it stands out from his warrior’s frame, although if he were to wear the full robes of his position it would be hard to tell. Hakoda wouldn’t say that age has made him set in his ways- but surely this is not happening.
Hakoda/Zuko, Feeling the Awkward Pt.1
Hakoda isn’t drained to the dregs yet by any stretch. But the years pass, just a few, but one after another, and another Solstice meeting comes by. The extreme ends of the year belong to each others’ peoples and their celebrations, but the other two quarters are there to travel the world and work on international relations. What it boils down to is an excuse to have really rollicking parties and reassure everyone that the other side isn’t so bad anymore.
The Southern Tribe’s hosting this year, on the relatively neutral ground of Whale-Tail island. The air is nippy and the ground is frosted, but the joined camps aren’t buried in snow- even so, a lot of the activities are going to be inside around the firepits, as a sop to their easily-chilled guests. Hakoda greets them; Earth Kingdom merchant-nobles, his grown children and the Avatar, a young man now, and the lord of the nation that was once their greatest enemy. He greets them all, and feels old and nearly empty. It’s not a bad feeling- but it’s there, hanging about his lined face and grey-threaded hair.
The feasting goes on into the night.
There are negotiations and arguments, and stories and games and contests of skill, and dancing breaks out soon after the stronger wine does. Aang leads the first round, striding cheerfully by the fire; he is limned with blue arrows and ducking and weaving fit to grace the ballrooms of Ba Sing Se. More follow him, and the great tent is filled with laughing and stamping, men and women dropping their dignity and letting their feet fly. His son and his daughter-in-law practice a strange, scandalous dance from Omashu, whirling face to face in circles through the crowd. Even the young Firelord gets in on the act, bringing what’s been resurrected of the Fire Nation dancing tradition to the floor.
It seems to be designed to show him off like a hot stallion, and the awkwardness that had filled his first ruling years seems to be reserved only for close friends, now. Zuko is in his prime, neither untried nor overly worn, a glass more than half-full and brimming with strength and life.
Later, when the wine’s been drunk and the fire flickers and smoke swirls up to greet the beaming stars, Hakoda can’t help but ask for a sip.
…
The year turns, and it’s half again another before the leaders meet again at the same place, this time for more serious matters. There are several earth kingdoms that don’t wish to resubmit to the yoke of Ba Sing Se, rogue Water-tribesmen committing piracy, everyone must fuss and blame as well as dine and dance- it goes in cycles, the tone of these meetings. Hakoda simply attends and does his best to keep his people’s niche carved out while not making things more difficult than they have to be.
The Firelord’s representatives take the floor for the first few days, before the man himself arrives, quietly. Hakoda goes to greet him, between the end of a meeting and the start of dinner, and is taken aback.
Before, Zuko was brimming with life, enough to revive and revitalize an old chief missing his youth.
Now, he is full with it.
The Firelord stands in his tent, clad in red and cradling his stomach- it stands out from his warrior’s frame, although if he were to wear the full robes of his position it would be hard to tell. Hakoda wouldn’t say that age has made him set in his ways- but surely this is not happening.
“Um.”
…