Fic: Formal Script

[foxysquidalso]

This story deals with Sozin and his FATEFUL inability to express his feelings. Eventually, of course, this problem tragically leads to the Gay Comet War, but the story is set long before that fateful day, when Roku and Sozin are sixteen.

Edit: Special thanks to redvelvetaddict for the "Dancin' Sozin" icon! Yay, look at him dance!

Title: Formal Script
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Word Count: 3800
Pairing(s): Roku/Sozin
Rating: G
Notes: On the eve of Roku's departure, Sozin tries to write him a letter.
Warnings: Teen angst, unspoken feelings.


Formal Script.

No expense, no effort had been spared when planning Roku's sendoff affair. Not that Sozin had been involved directly in the preparations. Such matters were beneath a prince. Yet he had been certain to insist upon special care being taken. He wanted perfection for his friend, nothing less.

He had made a list of the foods and entertainments Roku would like most, and another naming all the people Roku would want to see. He disliked calligraphy, and he'd frowned as he wrote, dripping ink on the paper, remembering, as he always did when writing, the sound of his tutors' despairing sighs. Composition was his strength; his handwriting lacked appeal and grace. Usually he availed himself of one of the court scribes, which was so much easier. Nonetheless, his tutors insisted that he practice, so he did.

An Avatar was born once a generation. It was an occasion worthy of a grand ball and an even grander feast, yet no matter the reason Roku was leaving, Sozin would have wanted it to be a magnificent affair. As the day approached, excitement permeated the very air of the royal palace. Even the most somber servants wore smiles.

When the time finally arrived, Roku seemed a little taken aback when he realized that so many pains had been taken, all for him, but he was delighted as well. He laughed and talked and danced. It was the most splendid affair anyone in the palace could remember, or so Sozin overheard several courtiers exclaim. There was light, everywhere: the glow of lanterns and the sharper burn of fire as the acrobats and magicians plied their trick Firebending. The sun set and the moon rose, but the fire was brighter than each.

Sozin kept his eyes on Roku, and he smiled to see his friend so happy. Roku was tall and thin, but no longer gawky and hesitant. Instead, he was lean and confident. He commanded attention, even when still and silent. Sozin realized that both of them had grown up, somehow. It was strange--for some reason, he had never thought that that would happen to them. Rationally, he had been aware that it must, but foolishly, he had imagined things always being the same: their afternoons spent in the courtyard, their evenings together, exploring the many corridors and chambers in the palace, looking for new places to hide, making new secrets. Their late-night talks in Roku's bedchamber, the rest of the world fading away to nothing as they told each other everything. Somehow he had thought that even as the Fire Lord, he would still have that. It was something he had had all his life. Tonight, on the eve of Roku's departure, he could not envision what his life would be like when Roku was gone. What would he do all day? Who would he practice with? Who would he talk to?

Sozin frowned, still watching his friend. If Roku was worried, he hid it well. Sozin wondered what the other young man was thinking. Suddenly, his friend turned to him and smiled, and Sozin's frown disappeared at once. He hurried forward, forgetting that he was in public and supposed to behave with proper decorum.

"Are you having a good time?" They hadn't had more than a handful of moments to talk this evening. Everyone wanted to speak with Roku--with the Avatar--and those who had already spoken to the Avatar wished to speak to the prince. Sozin did enjoy the attention, but less so than usual.

"Of course I am. Thank you."

Sozin shrugged. "I didn't have anything to do with it."

"I'm sure you had something to do with it." Amusement narrowed Roku's eyes. "Don't deny it. It's too late for you to turn modest."

"I didn't have very much to do with it," Sozin amended.

"Thank you anyway."

"Don't thank me. I had to subject you to one more court party before you left--so you'll feel better about leaving."

Roku laughed. "They're not so bad. And I know it won't be the last one I go to."

"You're the lucky one, though. I'll have to come to them alone after you're gone."

"Don't worry," said Roku fondly. "You'll survive. And just think, with me gone, you'll have all the girls dancing with you."

Sozin snorted. "As if they want to dance with you."

Roku scowled, but only in jest, and a moment later his smile returned. "It sounds like you're jealous."

"You won't have enough time for girls with all the training you'll be doing."

"But what girl wouldn't want to spend time with the Avatar?"

Sozin shook his head sadly, his eyebrows knitting in disapproval. "You shouldn't abuse your power, Roku." The frown that shaped his lips was lighthearted, as Roku's scowl had been, but after it had rested on his mouth for a few beats, Sozin realized with an unexpected twist of his stomach that it was also genuine. He had no time to puzzle out the reason why, however, for one of his second cousins demanded his attention with a word, and he had no choice but to turn away, throwing Roku an apologetic glance as he did so.

He simply didn't have enough time to talk to his friend. Every minute wasted talking to another second cousin or great-aunt or celebrated diplomat brought him another minute nearer to the time of Roku's departure. Maybe this was a bad idea, he thought, regarding the lanterns strung above his head when he should have been listening to the polite and courtly conversation he was supposed to be engaged in. The lanterns ranged in shape from simple spheres to elaborate dragons, complete with wings and claws and painted eyes. The sight of them didn't delight him as it was meant to. He would have rather spent the evening alone with Roku. They could have sat together in the courtyard, looking up at the stars. But there had been no question of that. It wouldn't have been right. The royal family was expected to give the Avatar a grand sendoff, and Roku was the Avatar now.

Barely paying attention to the pleasantries emerging from his mouth, Sozin looked for Roku in the crowd. He found him at once, smiling as he talked to a nobleman's wife, a woman whose name Sozin couldn't quite remember. She seemed overjoyed to be talking to the Avatar.

The Avatar. Sozin still found it difficult to think of Roku that way. There hadn't been any warning. It had come as a shock to all of them, the Fire Sages simply appearing on Roku's birthday to make the announcement in front of everyone, with no concern for anyone else. Those ridiculous old men. Couldn't they have said something sooner? Then Sozin would have known. He would have had enough time to get used to the idea.

"Prince Sozin?"

Sozin blinked. "Oh, yes?"

"Did you hear what I said?" the second cousin asked, his expression slightly perplexed, and Sozin remembered he was supposed to be paying attention to the man.

He smiled broadly. "Of course. And I agree with you completely." This was usually a sufficient response, and this time was no exception, as the second cousin brightened immediately and resumed discussing whatever it was he had been talking about.

#


After the bustle and light of the celebration, Sozin's rooms struck him as quiet, dim. The usually bright reds and golds were subdued by the late hour, and he had only lit one of his lights. His attendants had already dressed him for bed, and he had dismissed them, preferring to be alone. He seated himself on the edge of his bed, but he wasn't tired yet, though the evening had been draining. He felt the warmth slowly gathering in his chest that told him dawn's first light was not far away. It was usually a comforting sensation, but he derived no comfort from it tonight.

Sozin rose again almost at once. He was restless. He strode from the bedroom into his study and seated himself at his desk. He had no reason to sit there. He folded his arms, resting them on the desktop, then lowered his head until his forehead pressed against his forearms.

The warmth in his chest was too warm. His heart was beating too fast. His body ached all over, the feeling most intense in his stomach, where it sharpened to a pain. He closed his eyes, but with his eyes closed, all he could see was his friend, dressed in his finest robes, his head raised, his lips curved in a smile. Roku's eyes were bright as he talked to everyone at the party, and everyone's eyes were on him. Admiring, almost worshipping.

Sozin opened his eyes, so that all he could see was the painted surface of his desk, but that was preferable. Roku had been Sozin's friend before he was the Avatar. He might have been born the Avatar, but that didn't count. It wasn't until the Sages had come to him that it had become real. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right that they could simply appear and change everything with a few words. His heart beat even harder. He hadn't known it was capable of beating so fast. It felt like it would tear itself apart.

Why did Roku have to leave? Why couldn't masters be brought to the Fire Nation to teach him Airbending, Waterbending, Earthbending? The expense wouldn't have been too much. Tutors were frequently brought in from the other nations to teach at the palace. Sozin didn't want to let him go.

He sat up straight, suddenly seized by grim determination. He wouldn't let him go. Surely, if he told Roku how he felt, Roku would think of something. They could find a way to be together. But what could he say? He didn't even know what he wanted, just that he needed his friend by his side. How could he say that without sounding foolish? Every time, over the past weeks, that he had tried to speak on the subject, the words had stuck in his throat, and instead, he had said all the usual things, made all the usual jokes. There had to be a better way. His brow furrowed.

Sozin slid open the drawer at his left. It was filled with the finest paper, pale brown and smooth. He removed a sheet, centered it in front of him on the desk. His paperweight was in easy reach: a golden dragon. He placed it so that just the edge of it rested on the top of the sheet of paper, holding it down. The drawer at his right held his brushes. He opened it and grabbed one. The inkstone was already on his desk. There was a special compartment for the ink sticks. He selected a black one. Red was for his signature only.

Fortunately, there was water in the small, gilded jar designated for that purpose. It was meant to be emptied and refilled every evening, but that was a task the servants every now and then forgot to perform, and with a ball and a feast to take up their attention, something as simple as water for ink might have been overlooked.

Working with the water and the ink stick, Sozin filled the inkstone with ink. As in a dream, he noticed his hand was shaking, and some ink spilled onto the desk. He didn't wipe it away.

Sozin wrote in formal script. That was the script princes used, even when writing to a friend. He wished sometimes that he could write in the common script, with its simplified characters, as his subjects did. Calligraphy was difficult enough for him without added complications. He had a stiff hand, his tutors said. He couldn't let the lines flow. But at the same time, he was clumsy, his strokes uncontrolled. How he could be bad at something in two such different ways, he didn't know. He wasn't used to being clumsy. He was always good at sports and games and Firebending. Yet as he tried to write, his fingers were already inkstained, and he hadn't even begun.

Roku. The characters of his friend's name were relatively easy, although they slanted down the paper. He paused, brush in hand, until a drop of ink fell, making a mark. It was a large, ugly mark. He should have started over, but he knew that if he disposed of this piece of paper, he would lack the will to begin writing again.

The script was formal, but he tried to keep his language plain. I know that this letter is a selfish one. You will no doubt think ill of me for writing it. But I cannot bear the thought of you leaving me. He hesitated again. He would never be able to say such things aloud. What will I do without the companionship of my dearest friend, my confidant?

He stopped. It wasn't right. It didn't seem sincere enough. He was too agitated. He couldn't think. His usually firm grasp on composition had been shaken until it was no better than his handwriting. He frowned, began again. I will loathe every day I have to spend without you, and I fear that, in all your travels, your affection for me will lessen in some measure.

All wrong. He sounded self-pitying, pathetic--but something made him keep writing. We have been closer than brothers, he continued. I know the Sages say you belong to the world, but I do not care what the Sages say.

These sentiments were incredibly improper. He should not have been writing them down. He had not realized that he had harbored such thoughts until he had written them. What would his brush say next?

By rights, you belong to me.

Sozin stared at these last characters for what seemed a very long time, but it could not have been, for the sun's gentle pull at him increased only a little.

He might have kept staring until the sun actually did rise, but a low pitched voice brought him back to himself.

"Sozin."

He leapt to his feet, whirling to face the doorway. Roku stood there. Sozin hadn't precisely been expecting him at this hour, but his appearance wasn't a surprise. All the servants knew that the prince's best friend was always welcome in his rooms. Roku was free to come and go as he pleased.

Sozin smiled. He didn't allow his hands to curl into fists. "Roku."

Roku came towards him. "What are you writing?"

"Oh, nothing." Sozin's laugh sounded careless even to his own ears. He wondered how he managed to make it sound that way. "I couldn't sleep, so I was practicing my calligraphy."

"You? Practice calligraphy? In the middle of the night?" Roku had changed out of his dress robes, but he still wore the topknot clasp that Sozin had given him. Sozin's father had been quite put out with him for giving the clasp to his friend, as it had been worn by crown princes for hundreds of years, but Sozin had managed to convince him that it was a gesture that their subjects would appreciate: a visible symbol of the Avatar's close ties with the Fire Nation's royal family.

Sozin shrugged. "I need all the practice I can get, right?"

Roku's smile was wry but warm. "That's true."

Roku took another step, and Sozin's body stiffened. Warmth gathered in his lungs, and his right hand tensed. It would ruin his desk if he burned the letter, but he would do it if he had to. It hadn't come out right. He couldn't give it to Roku. Not as it was now.

Roku didn't seem interested in his "calligraphy practice", however. He put a hand on Sozin's shoulder. "I'm glad you're still awake. I couldn't sleep either."

Sozin relaxed, smiling up at his friend. "Father would say we both should be in bed."

"Since when do you listen to your father?"

"Since never. But that is what he would say."

Roku nodded. "I can't argue with that."

"I'm good at figuring out what he would say. I have to be, so I know what not to do." Roku's hand was still on his shoulder. The warmth in Sozin's chest intensified, until he almost felt like he was burning.

Roku laughed, and the sound made Sozin flush. "Then why don't you come outside with me?" Roku asked. "I'm sure your father wouldn't want you to do that."

"Outside?"

Roku at last drew his hand away. He took a step backwards, towards the door. "I thought we could go out to the courtyard, watch the sunrise." He paused. "One more time."

Sozin's first impulse was to say yes, but then he thought of the letter. He couldn't leave it lying there. It was an unlikely possibility, but one of the servants could come in to check on him. They might see the paper, wonder if it should be disposed of. They might not be able to resist glancing down, and it wouldn't take them long to read the brief text written there. "Oh." Sozin hesitated, torn. "I'd like to, but I am tired."

Roku cuffed his shoulder lightly with the back of his hand. "Don't be such an old man, Sozin. It won't be for too long. You can go to bed afterwards."

The last time. It would be the last time they lay on their backs in the grass, naming the constellations, watching the sky grow rosy at the horizon, then golden as the sun rose, until it was red and gold, like a fire. How could he bear it, knowing it would be the last time?

"No," he said, quietly. "It was a long night. Both of us should go sleep. Especially you. Or you'll be exhausted in the morning."

Roku was still smiling, but his smile was bemused. "Now you even sound like your father."

"I'm just tired."

"I know you want to--"

When the sun rose, he would find himself facing the last day Roku would be with him. "No," he repeated, more forcefully. "We've watched the sun rise enough times, and it always rises the same way. We don't need to see it again. We're not children anymore."

Roku's smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "No, we're not." Suddenly, he was closer, and Sozin found himself looking up again. "Sozin, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Sozin pulled away, turning his back to his friend. "I'm tired, I told you."

"I'll cheer you up," said Roku. "I promise. Just tell me what's the matter."

Sozin fixed his gaze on the letter he had written. He wasn't close enough to read it from where he stood, but he knew well enough what it said. His lips were dry. He licked them before parting them to speak. He could tell Roku. Roku was his best friend. He would understand. "I--" But how could he say those things? He would sound ridiculous. He couldn't put himself before Roku's duties as the Avatar. Who would do something like that? He broke off. "It was a long night, Roku. And I'm tired. That's all."

"If you're certain."

"I am."

Sozin heard Roku draw in a breath. "I'm going to miss you."

Once Sozin had managed to shape his lips into a smile again, he turned to face his friend. "You'll be fine. And you'll be back before you know it, so don't worry."

Roku nodded. "Yes. I will be back."

Sozin swallowed. "That's right. And we'll always be friends. No matter what happens." He looked up at the two prongs of the topknot clasp Roku wore, and he did feel a bit better. As long as Roku wore that, he couldn't forget about him. Impulsively, he took a step forward, throwing his arms around Roku's waist.

Roku hugged him back. Sozin felt his friend's hand settle lightly, briefly, on his hair. "Since we're being so responsible now," Roku said when they ended the embrace, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sozin grinned. "That's right. Tomorrow. I'll see you off. You won't be able to get rid of me even a minute early."

"I know. You're too persistent."

"That's right. Remember that." Becoming the Avatar took years of training. Sozin didn't know when he would see Roku again after tomorrow, but he made himself continue to smile. "Good night, Roku."

"Good night."

After Roku was gone, Sozin's face flushed hot again. His eyes stung, but he wouldn't let himself cry. As he had told Roku, he wasn't a child anymore. He was a man. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and somehow, it worked. He did feel calmer. His face cooled. At once, he snatched the letter from the desk. What he did next took only a moment. A mere spark from his fingers, and the letter was ashes. No one would read it now. He cleaned the ashes from his hand.

His words to Roku had been more sincere than he'd realized. He was tired, to the point of exhaustion. He sagged. He should sleep. He would feel better in the morning. He retreated to his bedchamber, extinguished the lights, and slipped out of his outer robe. Usually his attendants would have done these things, as well as pulling back the bedclothes for him, but he had sent them away, so he did them himself. Once he was under the covers, he closed his eyes. He wanted to fall asleep. He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted the ache in his body to subside.

But he couldn't fall asleep. The ache didn't go away.

He had destroyed the letter, but the memory of it remained in his mind, no matter how much he wished it away. He could still see it very clearly. The clumsy characters written in formal script--a prince's script, but a childish hand, complete with stray marks from having steeped his brush in the ink for too long. Too much water in the brush. He couldn't ever seem to get it right, that balance of ink and water, of control and release.

Sozin read the same words over and over. He couldn't help it. They wouldn't leave him. They wouldn't let him rest.

By rights, you belong to me.

He had destroyed the letter, but it had done no good. Sozin opened his eyes. He watched the sunrise from his bedchamber. The light crept across the floor, and when it rose, it made the wall hangings seem to glow.