Chapter Text
V
The last time it happened, the best thing about it was how unspectacular it was.
Suki quietly drummed the rhythm of The March of the Great Chi-An on the handle of her fan with her fingers to concentrate and keep all her focus in the room.
Fortunately, it had been over a year since an assassin had even come near Zuko, but that didn’t mean she was able to relax in her position as his bodyguard. On the contrary. Relaxing in such peaceful times and anticipating no harm was the most foolish thing to do.
She focused on the rhythm of her fingers, the soft melody in her head, and watched one by one in the small assembly room.
It was a comparatively small Council meeting. But if she was allowed to believe Zuko, it was also the new norm for council meetings in general. All active work for repairs after the war was done. The political situation was largely stable and relations with other nations were better than ever. Today, only minimal reforms in primary education in the Fire Nation should be discussed.
Suki was expecting a quiet cosy afternoon. She should have known that, by now, far too much of Sokka’s bad luck had rubbed off on her.
“But, my lord, I understand why you want to include more about other nations in the history class, but I think it is dangerous to do so at the expense of our ancestry. It has always been essential to remember our origins and forefathers--”
“Exactly. And to do so without equally studying other cultures and understanding our connection with them was what made a destructive war possible for more than a hundred years in the first place, Minister Xun.”
Suki was amazed at Zuko’s calm voice. In the past, whenever he had to stop someone or put forward counterarguments, he always had put all his authority into his voice. Now he seemed almost. . . bored. No, not bored. He was just calm, calm and definitely unimpressed by Minister Xun’s speech.
Minister Xun, on the other hand, was anything but unimpressed. He bowed deeply, and the fact that his voice was full of honesty at his next words was probably the reason he was able to keep his post without problems or questions.
“You are right, Lord Zuko. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it properly.”
Zuko nodded at him.
“It’s alright.”
Then he addressed all those who were assembled.
“Does anyone else have anything to add or propose changes? Have all the ideas put forward been discussed today?”
An unanimous nod and consenting murmur spread around the table.
Zuko rose.
“Very well. In that case, a final draft of the concept will be prepared by our next meeting, and we can discuss it next week. Have a nice day.”
While the ministers shuffled together their papers and protocols, Zuko already left the room. He had had a very reliable scribe at his side for a few months now.
So reliable, that Zuko was willing to give up that control completely and relied on having all the information in writing by the next morning. He didn’t even make his own notes during the meetings anymore, as he had done in the past. Suki was glad that this unnecessary stress was finally taken off her friend’s shoulders. Or rather, that he let it be taken away.
Suki followed Zuko out of the room and they silently walked down the hallway. As the heavy wooden doors closed behind them, the last sounds of the departing council members fell silent.
She watched her friend from the corner of her eye for a while. He seemed to be deep in thought, his forehead wrinkled as if he were pondering over a difficult question.
Suki feared that she knew exactly what he was thinking about. Once again, her newly acquired inclination for error should be revealed.
“You’ve done really well, Zuko. It was, not a lie, impressive.”
Zuko paused for a moment while walking and blinked as if he had been completely elsewhere in his mind.
“Excuse me? What?”
Suki smiled at him encouragingly.
“Minister Xun.”
Zuko waved half-heartedly with one hand.
“Oh, yes. Thank you.“ He smiled at her proudly for a moment.
Then the slight, by now lasting, wrinkles on his forehead deepened again in thoughts.
Suki was so stunned by Zuko’s reaction that she hardly heard his next words. They probably weren’t meant for her anyway.
“Double chocolate or strawberry lemon?” muttered the Fire Lord as he turned into a narrow side aisle, stepped through a low door and followed one of the secret corridors, normally intended for the servants -- and, apparently, Fire Lords with a sweet tooth -- to the kitchens.