Sad Zukka - Tumblr Posts

Exhausted

Hakoda knows that Sokka is exhausted. 

They all were, all the time, his son even saying that tired was now apart of his personality. 

“That’s me,” he would joke, “the meat, sarcasm and perpetually tired guy.” 

Hakoda was tired, too. The war had been over for a few years now, and the Northern and Southern Water Tribes were working on rebuilding their relations as well as their cities. Hakoda, Bato and Sokka were the only ones as representatives for their small tribe of only 40, while the Northern had thousands, and had sent over 50 representatives.

They had decided to convene in Omashu, where King Bumi had been gracious enough to let them host, after the Northern Water Tribe realized that traveling from pole to pole was not an easy feat for the southerners (them, too, but they would never admit that). 

Getting a chance to speak was difficult, the formal language used was difficult, getting the representatives to understand just how different their tribes were was difficult, even finding a seat had been difficult. 

The door to the apartment they were staying in opened abruptly and then slammed a moment later, and Hakoda’s heart started to race. Sokka was home, and that meant that he…had to tell Sokka. Hakoda took a deep breath as his son entered the room. 

“S-“

“Not now,” Sokka practically growled, and if he had been a fire bender, he certainly would have let out a huff of fire, “I’m really not in the mood for anything right now. I’m hungry, exhausted and this place is horrible. The people here are all jerks.” 

“Sokka, I think you should—“

“Why do they care that we’re using one of the fifteen conference rooms? Bumi said it was fine!”

“Sokka, you should—“

“They weren’t even politicians! They were damn delivery drivers!” Sokka pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“should—“

“Dad, I literally just said I didn’t want to talk!”

“read—“

“Ugh!” Sokka threw his hands in the air, frustration pouring out of him. “Goodnight, dad. Don’t wake me in the morning, unless something catastrophic happens. Actually, scratch that, even if the world ends, don’t wake me up. La knows it would be an improvement.” 

The door slammed, and Hakoda stood. He couldn’t remember how long he stood, how long he stared at the door, before the reality of the situation hit him all at once. 

He covered his mouth with his left palm, an attempt to keep from sobbing, silent tears beginning to slide down his face, hands shaking, the crinkling parchment of the Fire Nation missive heavy in his hand. 

To whomever it may concern: 

Fire Lord Zuko, First of his Name, Protector of the Dragon Throne, and Master of Dragon Fire, has been assassinated by poisoned arrow on the date of the 17th, Late Sun. Lord Zuko was struck in the left shoulder by a lone arrow while presenting a speech to the Council of Education, and died a few hours later from his wounds, as the weapon was laced with belladonna. 

He leaves behind a grieving mother, sister, uncle, and nation. 

No successor has been named as of yet, however Prince Iroh is currently acting as reagent. 

Princess Azula is no longer in line for the Dragon Throne. 

Funeral rites were preformed shortly after death, and the body cremated, as it tradition. Only the Fire Lord’s mother, step father, half sister and Fire Sages had been present, as Prince Iroh was in Ba Sing Se at the time of Fire Lord Zuko’s death. 

May his flame burn bright forever. 

Councilmen of the Court of Flames