Sokka is captured aboard Zuko's ship. At some point during Tea & Interrogation with Iroh and Zuko, he lets slip that he's the son of Chief Hakoda.
“Chief Hakoda?” the Prince of the Kill It With Fire Nation repeats, like his brain is as stupid as his face. Or like he just realized he’s taken a high-value hostage, redeemable for one (1) ransom against an enemy leader.
“Did I say Chief Hakoda?” Sokka laughs, nervously. “I meant, ah—”
“Shut up, peasant,” the prince shouts. And then sort of… chokes on his own words, getting redder and redder.
“Perhaps a break, Prince Zuko?” says Uncle, like this is… like this is the tea-time social he’s set the table for.
Zuko is in the hallway with the door slammed behind him before he can think. Thinking. Thinking is a thing he needs to do, and Uncle’s proverbs only ever leave his thoughts feeling twisted around, and—
And that is not a peasant that sacrificed himself, to give the Avatar a chance to flee. That’s a fellow prince, or whatever the Water Tribe would call him.
“So,” Sokka says, spinning the teacup between his cuffed hands contemplatively. “How much poison would you say is in here? And what kind?”
The old man is sputtering indignantly, but Sokka is very seriously considering taking his first sip. If it’s laced with something to loosen his tongue, well, can’t get much worse there. It’s not like he knows where his dad is. Or anything useful. Certainly not more useful than handing the Fire Nation the son of their fleet’s leader. And if it’s something deadly, well...
He doesn’t know what his dad would do or give to get him back. But it wouldn’t be good, for the war or the world or their tribe.
He figured he’d die, when he’d shouted at Katara to go, take him and go. He hadn’t realized how much worse this could get. Was getting. Because the son and heir of Fire Lord Burn Them All was out in the hallway, thinking.
Zuko thinks. About what his own father would do, if he were to receive a ransom letter. The disappointment. The… repercussions.
“You’re what?” Sokka asks.
“I am releasing you,” His Shoutiness repeats, through clenched and grinding teeth.
“Huh,” Sokka says, and takes another sip from his cup, because oh, this is hallucinogenic tea. Good stuff. “Care to explain that?”
No, Zuko wants to shout. But this is the fellow son of a world leader. Zuko hasn’t had many friends, and he’s not looking to add the Water Prince to that atrophied number, but.
“You stood and fought when you could not win, for a cause you believed in,” Zuko said, and he didn’t know why Uncle suddenly looked so pained. “I will not demand trinkets from your father for your return. If he hears of this, it will not be from me. You will be released at the nearest neutral port.”
Like an undersized fish, Sokka did not say.
“That is… very honorable of you,” Sokka says, and doesn’t know why the prince looks like he’s been gutted.
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
prguitarman
baratheonpilled
germansingergirl
kaledo-art
origamiaround
