Datasets:

mickume

/

alt_manga

like 0

Straightening and pondering how much more of her skin she was willing to subject to that, she noticed Duncan struggle with untangling his hair. Not taking the time to debate herself again, she hopped behind him onto a bank of squishy moss. „Let me help with that. There's a twig in there. Or several."

He wordlessly took his hands away and let her carefully free the bits of fauna. Finished, she used her fingers to comb the hair into a semblance of order. Only after a few strokes did she register the intimacy of what she was doing, and she spent an anxious moment fearing she'd overstepped or sent some unwanted signal. But there was no reaction from Duncan, and his expression as he waited was as neutrally pleasant as ever. So, just to flip the finger at her fear, she let her hand slide through Duncan's hair twice more, appreciating how soft it was, how thick and wavy compared to her own.

Doing that felt nice. Not nice like...arousing. There was none of that, actually. Maybe it was her exhaustion speaking, but she felt as disinterested as she could be. Even standing close enough to Duncan to feel the heat he was radiating, nothing stirred within her.

Even when he, in turn, freed her hair from a leaf and, laughing, proceeded to pluck away bits of greenery that stuck to the skin on her back, rinsing it and rubbing patches of dirt off, she simply felt comfortable under his ministrations. Any doubts that stirred and tried to complicate things, she quenched immediately, determined to not ruin the nice moment, and happy that it was surprisingly easy. It helped that Duncan's touches were purely clinical.

Or were they? His palm rested on one spot for a long while, its warmth contrasting sharply with her skin, which was chilled from the crisp morning air and the freezing water. Duncan could have taken it away, could have let go and then returned it to her shoulder blade to scrape at a different speck, but instead he let it slide up slowly, letting the touch step over into a caress. She wasn't sure what to make of that, didn't even know if it was intentional, but nothing else followed, and it felt really damn nice, so she just let it go.

It was quickly becoming a habit, wasn't it, just letting things go. Maybe that, too, was just numbness born of exhaustion.

She let herself settle into the contact as Duncan continued to rub at that patch of dirt. That prompted her body to relax a fraction, dissipating a tension she hadn't even noticed. It was delightful. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but instead of letting that bother her, she accepted, even welcomed it. An odd, unfamiliar feeling welled up from some unidentified, deep-seated part of her. Powerful, but serene and sweet, almost joyful enough to make her laugh, and richly saturated with sense of... rightness. As if she could be content, because all was exactly as it should be.

All too soon, as wordlessly as he had started, Duncan left her alone, stepping away to give himself room to continue his own cleaning. Kienda's joy dimmed a little at the loss of contact, but didn't dissipate, leaving her head fuzzy and her heart light. Kind of like that time her brother had made her smoke some weird, exotic herbs. Only without the dizziness, and the hint of losing control, which she'd hated.

Feeling bold, she celebrated her newborn shamelessness by taking a moment to ogle the man. In the early daylight, she could finally fully appreciate the view of his naked body. He looked exactly like he'd felt, strong, hard and solid all over. Hair and scars she could only feel before were now visible on pebbled skin. He was the picture of a warrior with his straight, proud posture, and somehow even naked, cold and wet he didn't appear vulnerable, clothed instead in a mantle of alert competence.

Unconcerned with her scrutiny, he knelt to rinse his hair, and Kiendra was reminded that she should probably follow his example. She waded back into the stream, crouched and reluctantly splashed water on her privates. She cringed at the cold, but meticulously rubbed off the sticky, dried evidence of the night's events. Along with a substantial amount of moss and dirt wedged into her bum crack, ew. A little disgusting, that. Wait, she thought and stopped short. Sticky remains on her private bits.

With a rush she realized what that meant, and instantly all her newfound serenity came crashing down around her ears. How, damn her! How could she have been so stupid and forget the other reason she had remained a virgin for so long? How could she forget that sex could result in offspring?

Her stomach lurched. She couldn't bear a child now! What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to know if she'd conceived or not? Wasn't there a way to tell if it was even possible? She frantically tried to remember what her mother had told her about fertility, but in her panic, the details slipped through her fingers.

With a start she realized that Duncan was crouching beside her, a hand on her shoulder, eyeing her worriedly. „Are you alright?"

„Yes!" She answered automatically, then amended „No? Maybe! I don't know! I just... I'm so stupid..." She tried to gather her wits while he helped her to her feet and led her out of the water. „I just realized... what we did tonight, I shouldn't have..." She stared at the ground, cheeks hot, visions of her child-swollen belly inducing more fear than any fight.

„You spent half the night persuading me it was fine, and now you're having second thoughts?" Duncan, too, sounded faintly panicked, and that effectively pulled her from her own state of shock, making her look up at him.

„What? No, not that." She shook her head vehemently. „Never that. I just... Maker, I'm an idiot." She rubbed her cheek and forehead with a trembling hand, turning away, ashamed. „You were... I didn't... I allowed you to... I didn't think to be careful..." She took a deep breath and forced the words out. „What if I'm with child now?"

He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed loudly. He grabbed her by the shoulders and gently turned her to face him. „You're not. You need not worry about that. I... almost certainly cannot father children. I haven't been able to for a long time."

She glanced up at him, surprised, and immense relief flooded her, making her knees weak. „Oh thank the Maker," she burst out. Belatedly it occurred to her that this might not be a good thing for Duncan. „Uh. I'm sorry."

He rubbed her upper arms, warming them, and only now did she notice they were trembling. „No, I'm sorry. I should have told you. I've been living with it for such a long time that I simply don't think of it anymore. I'm sorry I made you worry needlessly."

He wasn't laughing with her. „Now is indeed a bad time. But someday... do you wish to become a mother?"

„Huh?" She answered eloquently. The question seemed so absurd, she had a very hard time wrapping her mind around it. Even before, she'd done her best to avoid thinking about it, pushing it off into her future. „I don't know... I mean I always knew I'd have to marry and have children at some point, but I never actively wished for it, you know? Never refused it either, because duty and all that. Everybody says it's great, but, I don't know. I guess I'm not ready for it, but someday... maybe?" Duncan was looking at her weirdly – was her indecision so strange? She raised a hand to wave the unwanted subject away, shaking her head. „But, right now? I should really be more careful. I was lucky you... uh." She stopped sheepishly, her hand hovering before her face. „I'm... sorry?"

He patted her arms before releasing them. „Really, don't worry about it. I'm sure the scare will inspire you to be more careful next time, when it actually matters." A shadow passed over his face, and his shoulders sagged a fraction, as if some unseen burden was pressing down on them. It looked so normal on Duncan that she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been looking right at him, witnessing the transition. It must be how he always looked. It bothered her, after having helped lift the burden for a while, to now be the cause of its return.

She sensed warmth beneath her palm, and only then did she notice it had landed on Duncan's chest. He looked at her quizzically, but she could only stare, at a loss. She had no idea what to do with it, only that she didn't want to let go. More than that, she suddenly had the urge to close the distance and be embraced by those arms again, to return to the warmth and security she'd felt there. And above all, she wanted to ask the man what was wrong, to try to chase away his shadow. But she didn't quite dare. After her recent burst of anxiety, the serene boldness from earlier slipped away from her, leaving her doubting her impulses. She should just let go and do it. She'd done bolder things with him already. But in the end her courage abandoned her, and the moment passed.

Feeling like a fool and a coward, she flashed a quick smile before taking the hand away and stepping back. For a heartbeat she hoped Duncan would come after her, but he only nodded and turned away. So much awkwardness filled the air between them now that it felt like a wall, and she hated it, hated that it was her own fault. Whatever it had been, that blissful state, she'd destroyed it. Irritated and disappointed with herself, she crouched and splashed her face with water, savouring the bite of cold as deserved punishment.

They quickly finished washing and went back to the camp to dress, which did nothing to improve her mood. After being comfortably naked for so long, getting back into her cold clothes felt jarring. The weight of her armour, while familiar, was even less pleasant. For a moment she felt like she couldn't walk a step with all that additional weight, but there was no point in warming up to get her worn out body reaccustomed to it. She'd be walking soon enough.

Putting her shoes back on was the worst, so she kept it for last. At first she thought her feet wouldn't fit into the hard leather, but after lots of wriggling and swearing they slid into place, the shoes instantly pressing onto every single blister. She sighed. At least she'd gone for her sturdier shoes, rather than the softer ones she used to wear around the castle. She felt every bump on the ground as it was.

Duncan watched her ordeal pityingly, and when she finally finished, he reached out to help her stand up. She hesitated, her first impulse urging her to stand up on her own, just to prove she could, but she swallowed her pride. Gripping her hand firmly he tugged her up and steadied her as she found her balance, then held on for a moment longer and gave it a short reassuring squeeze before releasing it. Such a casual gesture, but the brief contact worked like a spell that broke through the awkwardness and the knot it had built inside her. Maybe not all was lost.

They spent some time searching for Kiendra's hairtie, but to no avail. They had probably built it into the final bed pile, which was now scattered all across the place. Finally Duncan cut a strip off the ragged former nightshirt, hopefully a corner that had not been used to wipe various bodily fluids, and handed it to Kiendra with an apologetic shrug. She accepted with a sarcastic bow.

By the time they broke camp in companionable silence, then hid evidence of it as best they could (well, Duncan did, Kiendra helped by staying - and keeping the dog - out of his way), she felt way better about herself, and about facing Duncan, resolved not to let any stupid walls be rebuilt.

She had changed here. She'd fallen apart, and while the pieces were now reassembled, she imagined that a lot of her stayed here, abandoned and unseen on the forest floor. She bid the place goodbye with a sense of loss, but also a big portion of relief. She felt lighter now, stronger, happier even. She had changed, and she couldn't yet tell how exactly, but it had to be for the better, she decided as she shrugged away the melancholy and turned around to follow Duncan.

When he turned to hand her some dried meat for breakfast, a small, warm smile rose to her lips, and seeing him answer in kind she felt... fine. Content. As if a shadow of that perfect moment in the stream returned to her. She fervently hoped the whole thing wasn't just some weird effect of emotional fatigue, or simply lack of sleep. She so wanted to hold on to it, whatever it was.

Honestly, the very fact that she felt so good was quite surreal, all circumstances considered. She still felt the pain of her losses, how could she not. It cut sharply whenever her thoughts wandered that way, and immediately made her eyes mist with tears. She still pushed it aside as she'd done before, but gently, without trying to suppress it and forget about it completely. She no longer felt the need to run from it and pretend it wasn't there, in order to function. It was more like acknowledging it was there, but sliding around it, without looking. Maybe in time she could follow Duncan's advice and face it, learn to look at it straight without being overwhelmed. But until then, she could apparently be sad and close to happy, at the same time. It was such a weird state to be in.

All in all, yesterday seemed like some distant memory, and the time before, her old life, even older. Like there was a barrier separating her from it. She couldn't believe that only one night lay between then and now. She truly felt like a different person, and it had nothing to do with losing her virginity.

Her cheeks heated as she shifted through the night's events, what she'd done and said - how had she come to talk so much? So very different from what she'd come to expect of herself. She'd gone and stepped over a whole array of previously important borders. The stupid notion of a rite of passage turned out to be astonishingly accurate. But coming up with it, she hadn't realized how much of herself she was leaving: her discarded life, with its rules, demands and amenities, wasn't simply a set of circumstances, but appeared to include her very habits, guidelines and even patterns of thought. Moreover she couldn't have guessed how startlingly quickly the change would take effect. As if her loss of control when she broke down crying had simultaneously seared away her control in all other areas, pulled down all the walls and let everything fall into chaos, drowned and flushed out by the floods of emotion, to be sorted anew.

And then this morning, she'd been so disoriented because none of her rules, none of her habitual reactions could be applied anymore. She made an effort to recall them now, reimagining the situation, and as they returned haltingly, she looked at them as strangers. She didn't need them. She didn't want complicated. She was so tired of doubts, of losing her mind over implications and consequences. Everything had seemed so pure and simple when she let go of them.

In fact, letting go was what it all boiled down to, wasn't it, every step on the way between yesterday and now. It seemed like every time it happened brought an improvement. She suspected her old patterns would try to reestablish themselves, like when she'd found her hand on Duncan's chest. But now she knew what to look out for. It was a process. If she wanted to seize the opportunity and become a new person permanently, and she very much did, this was how it was going to happen. She let that settle for a while, turning it over and inspecting it for flaws, letting it become a promise to herself.

Her introspection was interrupted after some time, when the path before her demanded her full attention. She trudged on in Duncan's footsteps, doing her best to keep up while he cleared the way where he could, and instructed her where to step. Several times he had to help her climb or descend, and every time she felt his grip on her arm or hand, she felt more sure that all was well between them.

Back on easier terrain, where her feet could be trusted to march on without supervision, she hefted her gaze onto Duncan's back. It was by now a familiar sight she'd been following for days, but now it seemed completely different to her. Today she knew what was beneath that elaborate armour. How he looked, how his skin felt and tasted. That felt... significant, somehow. Before all this, he'd appeared larger than life to her. A hero she wished she could emulate. Now he was a companion, someone she knew intimately, even if at the same time she knew very little about him.

To her, a connection had formed between them, or maybe just a seed of one, but she felt it more keenly now than even during the night, when she'd sought it so desperately. That clearly was a large part of the elation she'd been swept up in. Not love, she wasn't enough of a romantic to even consider that. But definitely... something.

Deciding on letting that unfold in its own time, and satisfied with her findings, she allowed the monotone rhythm of endless walking, backed by the thrum of pain from blisters and soreness, to slowly lull her into that welcome, mindless state where nothing mattered but putting one foot before the other.

Even then, the odd contentment stayed with her through the morning, and it was only well after noon, after it still hadn't dissipated, that she dared hope it was there to stay.

It didn't, but it did hold out until darkness fell and brought dark thoughts in its wake.

Settling down for the night, sheltered on top of a barely climbable formation of boulders, or maybe ancient ruins, sharp-toothed phantoms of guilt slithered up to gnaw at her.

She knew that the fall of Highever wasn't her fault, but had she really done all she could? Couldn't she have made a difference? And most of all, had she any right to be eager for what her future brought, when everybody she knew was almost certainly dead, their futures erased? She told herself over and over that drowning in sorrow did nothing for those she'd loved, that they wouldn't have wanted that. She tried to let go of it. This time, it didn't work. At first the phantoms retreated, but once she lay down and closed her eyes, they returned to haunt her with a vengeance. No matter how much she tried to think of something pleasant instead, the darkness around her again felt oppressive, smothering any brightness she tried to conjure.

She would have cuddled up with her dog, even if he smelled of everything he'd rolled in during the past days, just to be close to a living, breathing body. But with no way to heave the heavy animal so far up, he'd remained on the ground, well able to fend for himself for a night.

She tossed and turned for a while, hoping that sheer fatigue would drag her into sleep. Instead she became increasingly restless, and soon decided to give up and be honest. Honesty had not failed her with Duncan yet.

„Duncan... you're still awake, aren't you?" She whispered. A fire was out of the question up here, but the moons shone brightly in the clear sky. Duncan lay maybe an arm's length away, and she could see and hear enough of him to hazard the question.

„Mmhm" He answered without opening his eyes.

She hesitated for quite some time, gathering her courage before asking quietly: „...Can I sleep with you?"

His eyes flew open, a frown creasing his brow. „I thought we were clear on that issue."

She was quick to amend: „No, I mean yes, we are." Her voice wavered. "I meant just sleep beside you? Maybe cuddle just a bit?" She hated how weak and pleading she sounded.

He looked at her, still frowning, but then his expression softened and he beckoned her over. A moment later she lay lightly pressed against his side, fully clothed this time, spreading and adjusting the blanket over them both, still embarrassed but too relieved to care. Even faster than she had dared to hope, the shadows retreated before Duncan's presence, leaving her once again content and secure.

„Sorry. I guess I'm not ready to sleep alone just yet." She murmured apologetically, feeling childish, but not willing to give this wonderful closeness up for her bruised pride. Already Duncan's body heat was seeping into her, even through several layers of cloth. She wished they could risk sleeping naked once more, just so she could bask in Duncan's heat like a cat on an oven. But, this would do, and it was plenty.

Duncan lay stiffly on his back for a while, staring up into the starry sky, but finally he sighed and turned to wrap his arm around her. She wondered what went through his head that he was once again so tense. Maybe she went too far after all, imposing on him like this. She was being a selfish child, and she needed to stop bothering the man with her weakness.

She pushed away from him reluctantly, enough to look at his serious face. „Does this bother you?" She asked, bracing for a rejection, trying to stave off the creeping misery. He'd already given her more than she could've hoped for. She'd manage, get through tonight somehow, and tomorrow she could bother the dog instead.

Duncan answered softly: „It is...difficult. But also very pleasant. So no, it does not bother me. Not enough to stop anyway." His hand patted her arm reassuringly.

Relief flooded her and she slowly released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She couldn't help curling into Duncan even more than before as she relaxed. She wished he'd share whatever ominous troubles were weighing him down, so she could help him as much as he helped her. Even suspecting the answer, Kiendra ventured: „Do you... want to talk about it? Why it's difficult?"

Duncan closed his eyes. „No."

„...another thing I shouldn't ask about?"

She felt his chest heave a deep breath. „...Yes."

„Alright." She could accept that. She hoped she could someday prove to be trustworthy enough that he'd tell her. Until then, she'd give all, and take what she could get. She fidgeted, adjusting her position, before finally letting drowsiness overwhelm her. "This really helps. Thank you."

She felt his lips move against her hair as he turned his head into it. „You're welcome."

She was starting to drift into sleep when Duncan quietly spoke: "I... haven't done this in a very long time. By this I mean sleeping this way, in another person's embrace. Even longer than just laying with someone for pleasure, and that has been quite a while." He paused. "It has always been rare, for me, to allow anyone... allow myself this much intimacy. So rare that I have to fight myself into it. I had similar trouble this morning... and that wasn't even about being naked around each other. You should know that modesty has been a luxury, sometimes an impossibility under the conditions I've lived in. But the touching, that was new. Such... physical intimacy, anything not strictly sexual that is, breeds a kind of vulnerability..." He trailed off, then sighed. "I've... avoided it, to be honest, deemed it dangerous when I was young, mostly shied from it among the Wardens, then denied myself as a Commander. It feels... good. Very much so, in fact. Enough to give it a try, at long last. But I'm not used to it, and I'm still not entirely sure what to make of it, pleasant as it is. That is... not all the reason why it's difficult, but a large part of it."

She was smiling, her breath evening out and eyelids drooping while she listened to the rhythm of Duncan's voice, warmth enveloping her heart as well as her skin. She wasn't too tired to appreciate that she was being given a rare gift. Several in fact. On top of that, to think she might have given someone like Duncan a reason to try something new was immensely gratifying. She took a moment to savour all of that before she answered: "I see. Thank you for trying then. And for telling me. I really appreciate that. Both of that." After a pause she offered: "It... means a lot to me." She felt him nod, and his arm gave her a short squeeze. She allowed her eyes to fall shut. "It's... new and weird for me, too, you know. What you spoke of. But I... I too, think it's... good. Worth getting used to, maybe?" She hoped he could hear her enthusiasm, for she was no longer able to string together anything more complicated.

She received another squeeze, which may have been acknowledgment. "We'll see. Now, sleep well," he muttered, and there was a smile in his voice.

„I will. Already am." She mumbled into his chest. Exhausted, but also secure, warm and content, she indeed fell asleep within heartbeats, and slept peacefully until morning.

And that was a very fortunate thing, for as it turned out, this night, and the following few before Ostagar, were the last she'd be able to do both, for a very long time.

Somehow, it wasn't so strange living in the Fire Nation anymore. He knew the land, he knew the culture and though he never quite understood everything, he no longer hated it. The country was still undergoing a huge change with the guidance from their new leader, and while Sokka never would have expected to end up an ambassador to the nation he'd once planned to destroy, he was happy with how things had turned out.

Perhaps more significantly, he never expected to work so closely with the young man for whom he'd held such animosity. Perhaps if he hadn't been contemplating all this, he wouldn't have tripped when the throne room doors were opened for him, ushering his presence with rolled papers that flew out in front of him and scattered the floor.

"Who decided to put a step THERE?!" he crowed, face down on painful marble.

Zuko chuckled as he stepped forward, the heavy robes of the Fire Lord sweeping out behind him. "I did," he confessed, eyes sparking with badly concealed, if gentle, mocking, "Just to see if you were paying attention." The guards politely averted their eyes, disapproving as their lord stooped to gather a scroll or two, tucking them under an arm as he waited for the young Ambassador to compose himself once more.

Sokka gathered himself and sighed as he dusted off, then offered a playful sort of glare at Zuko. "I should get my sister to freeze shut your chamber doors," he threatened as he retrieved his plans. He cringed when he saw the guards draw themselves up with angry eyes. "Kidding! I'm kidding!" he yelped.

Zuko waved them down with a vaguely annoyed flick of the wrist and turned to lead Sokka toward the center of the room. Gone was the lone, ornate chair set high above the rest of the chamber. The flames still flickered along the far wall, but a low, welcoming, rectangular table occupied the previously imposing space between supporting columns and carefully placed cushions adorned the reed mats that helped warm the marble tiles. 

Zuko set the scrolls down gently and indicated a seat for Sokka to occupy before turning back with a heavy frown to the armored guards who had followed his steps. "You may go," he instructed simply, fighting a rising sense of irritation when the men hesitated, not bothering to conceal their mistrusting glances toward the young Water Tribesman. "That -wasn't- a suggestion."

Sokka sat up straight and looked at them quite imperiously -- probably not helping change the fact that they hated him, but it was just so satisfying. He ignored their warning glares as they bowed and stalked away.

"Was it this bad when you were just a prince?" he wondered, glancing at the Fire Lord.

Zuko seemed to consider this for a moment. "No," he had to finally, admit. "My fa-- Ozai ruled with fear and intimidation. And... in a lot of ways, it worked. It's easier for a soldier to question his Lord's orders when he knows he won't be instantly killed." He shook his head, the lingering traces of annoyance mostly fading when the room was clear and the door shut tight once more. He allowed himself a breath of relief. "I never thought I'd miss traipsing about the muddy back woods with no servants, little food, a rickety tent and only my uncle for company," he added, thoughtfully.

"I don't miss it!" Sokka laughed. "But then again, I grew up in an igloo so this is still pretty novel." He tossed a hand at the opulent surroundings. "We could always take a vacation to the South Pole if you get too comfortable," he snickered.

"The South Pole is -cold-," Zuko pointed out. "I'm not that desperate," he added with a sideways glance to the other young man as he began to unroll one of Sokka's scrolls.

"Hawkie brought in reports from Ba Sing Se this morning," Sokka reported, turning to the business at hand since Zuko seemed interested in it. "The good news is, the repairs to the outer wall are almost complete there."

Zuko managed to keep a straight face at the mention of Sokka's prized messenger hawk. For all the young man's military genius and strategy planning, Sokka's creativity when it came to simple things like naming a pet was... somewhat lacking.

He turned his attention back to the paper laid out in front of him. "And the Kyoushi warriors?" he asked. "At the time of your last report, they had not yet pulled out of the city, per the acting Earth King's request. Have they since returned to their village?"

"Not exactly," Sokka replied and there was some hesitation in his voice. "There's been some... civil unrest in the city and the Kyoushi stayed to offer protection to the Fire Nation relief troop camp. Somewhat reluctantly."

Zuko said nothing for a moment; he wasn't exactly surprised at the news; after all, he knew maybe better than anyone how difficult it would be for some --even most-- people to embrace the idea that the Fire Nation was no longer their enemy. After a moment, he sighed and stole another glance. "Did Hawkie tell you that? Or Suki?"

"Hawkie told me that through Suki's nasty letters -- I mean -reports-," Sokka corrected with his lips pursed. "I don't know how much longer they'll agree to stay as guards. We may want to see about sending some discreet protection for the relief."

Zuko considered this for a beat, elbows against the tabletop, chin resting on threaded fingers. He nodded slowly. "Given what you've told me, you may be right. Maybe a small group of Toph's disciples?" A pause, an odd, quiet chuckle. "Do I need to send you to Ba Sing Se on a short vacation?"

"Oh jeez -- no, please. Work me to death instead, I'll be much happier that way." He laughed, sort of. But it was an unpleasant and stupid-sounding noise. He paused and scowled, then sighed. "Besides, Hawkie brought me a letter about... I guess a month ago. From Suki. Saying that we were, you know... done." He did his very best to sound casual and shrugged.

The young Fire Lord blinked, having clearly not expected such news, though in retrospect, he supposed he shouldn't have been entirely surprised. Still, he couldn't manage to still his tongue from asking, "Why?" The single word was immediately followed by a flinch, and Zuko fought the urge to slap himself. He'd thought after three years that he'd have grown slightly more skilled at conversation than that first awkward day he'd joined the Avatar's coterie.

"Oh, you know..." Sokka was making a face. It was the face kind of face like he'd drank sour lizardgoat's milk. "A lot of things. She got so... -demanding- all the time. She wanted me to go back to Kyoushi with her or at least move further south. And then I told her about some of the stuff that happened between our meetings, while we were traveling... and she liked to throw that in my face every possible time she could. Because, you know, I ever expected to see her again after we left Kyoushi." Bitter? No, never. "All she did was criticize and try to convince me to leave here. But you know Earth people... so stubborn." He sighed. "Anyway, I'm not exactly broken hearted."

There were, clearly, more important things that warranted their attention, specifically the half dozen scrolls still laying unopened on the table before them. But Zuko frowned and looked away from them, fixing his gaze to an indeterminate spot on the far wall. "She probably didn't approve of everything you were doing for the Fire Nation" me "either, hm?" Zuko lost his gaze in the faint tracing pattern of marble as he reflected. He wasn't exactly pleased to hear that his influence, no matter how circumstantial, had played a part in the... romantic strife between Sokka and the Kyoushi girl; he sometimes regretted the new sense of morality he'd developed during the time with his Uncle and the Avatar. And yet... he couldn't honestly say he was, exactly, sorry either. What was that about?

"Well... obviously," Sokka muttered. "She didn't disapprove of the end of the war but she thought I was too close to things, staying here." He snorted. "It doesn't matter though -- I didn't agree then, I don't agree now. I'm doing important work with you -- and I like it here." The last part came out a little oddly, as though he stumbled over the words in his own head.

Zuko turned then, just his face, just to catch a glimpse of the expression that went along with the other's awkward, yet somehow endearing speech. "I too, value your companionship-- assistance," he corrected himself, frowned just a little. He moved on, too quickly to appear eloquent. "Maybe one day you two... will be able to reach an understanding."

"Nah," Sokka said with a shake of his head and a sigh. His luck with women was less than impressive. One was the Moon and now... "GEEEH--" Sokka mussed his own hair furiously. "Politics is much easier than women. Let's stick to those, right? HAH." He fell to the table with his cheek against it and looked up at Zuko with a pained expression. "Sorry I didn't mention it sooner. I was embarrassed."

"What?" Zuko smoothed the edge of a scroll with idle fingers. "Why would you be embarrassed?" The situation seemed perfectly understandable, and after all, it wasn't as though Suki had called it off because of anything stupid or embarrassing that -Sokka- had done. And he said as much. "Right?"

"I guess," Sokka said slowly and his brow furrowed. He found the dignity to sit up again, propping his chin on a fist. "It's just... I guess I just didn't want you to think that I'm a loser. Like if Suki didn't think I was worth her time, then neither would you." That had come out ENTIRELY wrong.

It was providence that kept Sokka staring hard at throne room doors, allowing the deep flush that stained Zuko's cheeks to go unnoticed. After a rather extended period of very awkward silence, the young Fire Lord finally cleared his throat. "You aren't a loser," he began, amended quickly with, "At least not for -that- reason." Oh good job, Zuko, make him feel even worse with your failed attempts at humor. "I mean, frankly, if you did all the things that would have made that... woman happy, I wouldn't like you at all." ALMOST what he'd meant to say...

Sokka paused. Considered. And then he laughed, turning back to Zuko with a grin. "Guess I made the right choice then," he said, punching the Fire Lord's arm in a fashion that would have had him beheaded were the royal guard still present. "You're more interesting than Suki anyway. And you've never made me wear a dress."

His face still hadn't completely lost its pink tinge, but the fire's light was orange and flickering and probably hid it mostly. "You looked -awful- in those Kyoushi robes," he commented lightly, then paused. "Unless you meant a -different- time she managed to force you into woman's clothing?" A faint, upward arching of his intact brow and Sokka became aware that we was being made fun of.

"I thought they were very slimming," Sokka pouted and then stuck his tongue out at Zuko, ever his age. "And there was only one other time, but there was a bet involved."

Mischief sparked in Zuko's eyes and a small quirk tugged his mouth. "A bet, hm? Sounds like... fun." The business at hand lay forgotten to the side as Zuko turned and faced the young Ambassador fully.