#and can thus imagine the fire nation having almost vulcan levels of aversion to PDA asdkjflsg

[artbymavy]

@dickpuncher420‘s art is just so delicious, I couldn’t help but write another fic inspired by this post...

Rumors start easily in the Fire Nation Palace.

 The origin of this particular rumor would be nearly impossible to trace.

 Perhaps it was the cooks, stumbling on the young Firelord and his ambassador late one night, conspicuously close, his majesty fitted squarely between his ambassador’s knees, who was seated so casually on one of their long tables as he was fed by the Firelord’s own hand, that one would be forgiven for mistaking the palace as belonging to him. Perhaps it was the chambermaids, who so often found themselves picking up an assortment of both red and blue silks for washing from the floor of the Firelord’s chambers. Or perhaps it was even the gardeners, who may have happened upon the two under the shade of an old tree near the pond, the ambassador’s head in his Firelord’s lap, but certainly noticed, at least, their sovereign cutting an armful of their lilies one particularly fine spring morning, to later find their carefully tended blooms perched smugly on the windowsill of the ambassador’s chambers. Very likely it was the royal hair combers, who so often found themselves with very little work to do. Someone else had been attending to that sacred duty, and they were left to guess who might be committing such an egregious breach of etiquette by only the thin strip of dyed blue hide they had used to secure his majesty’s royal top knot. Such indecency would certainly been enough to spark a scandal, if one had not been already.

 Regardless of who was to blame, once a rumor had been started in the palace, it tended to spread much like wildfire. And when word reached his majesty’s advisors that the young Firelord and his Water Tribe ambassador were in cahoots, they began to take more notice. They certainly did spend a great deal of time together – indeed, while each of them found themselves eager to avoid any and all confrontation with foreign dignitaries outside what was strictly necessary, Firelord Zuko seemed to have quite the opposite inclination.

 The third time soft laughter could be overheard from just beyond the Firelord’s outer chambers at much too late an hour to be considered professional, they had to admit to themselves that there must indeed be some unsavory dealings being made between the Fire Nation and Southern Water Tribe - without their permission, nor their supervision.

 There was nothing else to be done. They would have to intervene.

 And so it came to be that the old advisors burst through the Firelord’s door without warning, bowing low in apology. It was shameful to commit such a violation of privacy, but what could be done?

 “Forgive us our intrusion, your majesty, but would it not be advisable to conduct any business the Fire Nation has with the Southern Water Tribe in a more… official capacity? We mean no offense, but you must realize how this looks.”

 It was only then that they raised their eyes to take in the severity of the situation, expecting to see their charge conspiring over any number of private, sensitive documents.

 But the paperwork on his normally cluttered desk had been cleared away to make room for something much less dry, though perhaps more incriminating – a bottle of plum wine, a fruit tart, two half empty cups. Though ambassador Sokka had straightened to attention on their intrusion, he still had one hand at the Firelord’s shoulder, several strands of thick, dark hair wound between his fingers.

 It was the advisers’ turn to realize how this looked. Not a one of them could meet the eyes of any other, nor make themselves look at the two young men they had clearly caught in the midst of an intimate moment.

 “Indeed? Well, I will be sure to call for you, when I have something that requires your input.”

 Mortified, the advisers, their faces now stained as many shades of red as their clothing, stammered out a chorus of broken excuses and apologies.

 “I might remind you that my personal matters are my own affair.”

 Ambassador Sokka snickered. “Interesting choice of words there, Zuko.”

 Firelord Zuko shot him a stern glare, though the playful smile he still wore undercut its point somewhat.

 “Of – of course, your majesty. A thousand apologies. We only thought – that is, we heard…”

 “Yes?”

 “It’s just… there were rumors, your majesty. The way the palace staff has been speaking of you… they have been saying you are… in cahoots.”

 This was too much for ambassador Sokka, who had to bite his lip and turn away to keep from laughing.

 “I see. Well, perhaps you might consider learning the facts of a matter, before letting your actions be swayed by rumor.” Clearly, Firelord Zuko was enjoying teasing his advisers for their transgression, just a little.

 With that, he dismissed the lot, who clambered over one another to be gone, leaving almost as suddenly as they came.

 Perhaps it was a good thing, that they were not there to see ambassador Sokka as he stooped to wind his arms about his Firelord’s shoulders once more upon their exit.

 “In cahoots,” he chuckled, “I like that,” and gave the Firelord a suggestive wink.

 It was certainly a good thing that they could not see beneath the Firelord’s desk, where his ambassador pulled his seat up beside him once more, and slung one leg over his as he sat, to rest between his knees.

 “Well, when you’re starting an extremely delightful rumor, discretion is key, I suppose.” Zuko supplied sagely.

 “Oh, I see. Well, in the interest of discretion then, might I just say that I am very much in cahoots with you, dear.”