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Calling

The death of Avatar Aang was one of the most publicized events in the world, thanks to the help of recent technology such as radios and other communication. Nearly every home in the world tuned in to listen to his funeral in Republic City, hearing rare speeches from his children, wife, and friends. Everyone was in grief over the man who finally restored balance to the world for the first time in a hundred years.

Five weeks later, a newlywed woman and her husband down in the Southern Water tribe discovered that she was with child.

"Korra, would you please stop pulling the fur out of the rug," Senna sighed, frowning at the giggling toddler that sat on top of one of their pelts in the middle of the cozy room. "I have to keep telling you: we keep our hands off the floor." But even as she poured some stew and made her way over to Korra, she knew that it was practically a lost cause. Sometimes children were just born a little…wild.

And true to her nature, Korra grinned, showing off her teeth and seemingly unaware that she was being chastised. Senna crouched down to sit next to her daughter and blew on a spoonful of the soup, before hovering it in front of Korra. Hopefully lunch would distract her for the time being. Korra blinked, before leaning forward and obediently taking it with a loud slurp. Then her lips scrunched and she made a face, pushing herself away from her mother. She wouldn't take the next spoonful, keeping her mouth shut and turning her head away with a pout.

Senna's shoulders dropped. "Please Korra, it's good for you." But the two-and-a-half year old wouldn't budge, obviously in disapproval of the squid mixed in with that particular seasoning. Senna frowned again, and attempted to take on a stern voice.

"Korra."

"NO!"

The little girl all but screeched out into the room and threw her arms forward in the air. She didn't make contact with her mother, but Senna was suddenly faced with a large splash of stew in her face. She cried out in surprise, swiftly standing up and wiping at her face and hair.

The next time she opened her eyes, her husband was standing in the doorway, looking concerned.

"Is everything all right? I heard you shouting." His eyes went back and forth between Senna and Korra, his brows furrowed. Then he settled on his wife, whose front was completely covered in stew. "…Senna?"

She gave him an unamused look. "Your daughter just water bended her lunch," she said flatly, and shook the sleeves of her coat, small brown droplets flinging into the air.

It was difficult for both of them to believe, but there was no other explanation. And instead of being shocked, Tonraq's face lit up brightly. "She did? You're kidding!" Immediately he ran forward to pick up his daughter and toss her in the air, the both of them laughing. "We have a natural born bender in our midst!"

Senna was much happier about it once she finally cleaned up.

Korra was only three years old and never had a water bending lesson. It was only natural that they were proud, proud parents.

A few months later, Korra stood in the same room, throwing a temper tantrum. She lost her favorite toy, a small boat made of tiger seal bone. She wanted to go outside and set it out by the sea with her father and watch it move as she water bended around it. It was her favorite game, but without the boat, she wouldn't be able to do anything. Therefore, the only logical solution was to throw her back down on the ground and scream.

Tonraq meanwhile, searched through her chest of clothes and toys, trying to find the small little boat. He turned back to look at Korra, a little bit unsure of how to calm his daughter down. Senna had always been much more capable of bringing Korra out of a tantrum.

He waved over to her. "Korra, come here. If we both search together, we can find your boat quicker. Does that sound good?"

Korra only cried out louder, throwing her arms around and sprawling on the floor. Tonraq sighed through his nose, and turned back around to continue searching; he'll let her burn out her energy and perhaps settle her down for a nap once he found it. "Please, Korra," he murmured to himself and pressed a hand to his temple when her screech increased in pitch. She was hardly ever a quiet child.

"UWAAAAUH"!

The scream was immediately followed by a quaking rumble and a splitting sound. It jolted Tonraq enough that he had to catch himself over the chest's lid, and he stood up on shaky legs before whipping his head around. "Korra!" He ran over to her, and then the sight finally registered in his eyes as they widened.

A large spire of rock jutted out from the ground, tearing their white pelt apart. The very tip, sharp and clearly dangerous looking, stood level to Tonraq's waist. His jaw dropped as his gaze fell to the toddler laying on her back below, her right foot pressed against the base of the stone.

He honestly had no idea what to make of it. His thoughts ran numb. His mouth opened and closed several times, before settling on her name. "K-Korra—"

But then she lifted up her other foot and slammed it to the ground, causing another spire to suddenly shoot up from seemingly nowhere, piercing the open air of the room. The quake was startling enough on its own to send Tonraq falling down on his backside. He grunted, and then looked horrifyingly at his daughter. Her face was much less worrisome than his—more amused than anything—and in awe of her brand new talent. She lifted up her right leg.

He still had no idea what was going on, but only one thing clicked in his mind.

"Korra, stop!"

And he reached out to swipe her up in his arms, taking her away from the ground and clutching her tight to his chest. Korra immediately protested, pushing her hands against his chest and squirming, but it only made Tonraq hold faster to her. Her bone boat was no longer at the front of his mind, instead replaced by the events that just transpired.

He didn't want to believe it.

It was only a week later when her parents bore witness to Korra fire bending the candle in her room.

Tonraq sat against the wall, holding his head in his hands. He heard the soft rustling noises as his wife pushed aside the brown pelts and entered the room. Her hands clasped in front of her, and her expression was weary.

"She's in bed," she whispered, stepping closer.

Tonraq gave a heavy sigh, shaking his head back and forth. "She can't be. She shouldn't be."

Senna's brows furrowed. "In bed?"

"You know what I mean," Tonraq said through clenched teeth. "What she is! She shouldn't be the—the Avatar." He stumbled over the last word, all but spitting it out. "She just…shouldn't be."

Senna came up in front of him and crouched down, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know it's hard to believe, but…Tonraq, why didn't you tell me she earth bended before? This is all coming as a complete shock to me right now!" She frowned.

Tonraq hesitated. His eyes averted hers, staring off to the fire pit in the center of the room. "…I wanted to believe it was just an accident. Some freak earthquake."

"Except we don't have earthquakes here," Senna snapped.

"Better for it to have been so rather than being caused by her!" With that, Tonraq finally met his wife's eyes. They were pained. "Why Korra? Why our daughter?"

Senna's breathing grew wavered, and she sighed, shaking her head softly. "Because," she cupped his cheek, feeling the slightest hint of wetness, "that is how the cycle of the Avatar works. She was chosen to master the four elements and keep the world balanced."

She felt his jaw clench. "…You've heard the stories of the last Avatar. He had the world on his shoulders and nearly died countless times. And this damned world wants my daughter to do the same thing? Spirits, Senna, she is only three!"

"No one is asking for her to sacrifice her life to the world," Senna pressed, lightly stroking his cheek. "Avatar Aang brought us an era of peace, that of which we are still living in. Being the Avatar…" she drifted off, breathing deeply, "…it's not all about fighting and killing. She will be the icon of balance. Hope."

Tonraq looked sour, almost petulant. His hand rose to take her hand from his face and link her fingers between his own. "You don't want her to be the Avatar just as much as I don't," he whispered.

She swallowed, before dropping her gaze. "I…no," she quietly admitted. "I'm terrified, Tonraq. For her. For us." She lifted her eyes to meet his, sad and misty. "I'm angry that the world chose my only child. I want to protect her from everything that might hurt her, but this destiny is telling me that I can't. Isn't it only natural for a parent to feel this way…?" She squeezed his hand. "We will have to face the fact that we won't be able to keep her safe forever. The only thing we can do is support her."

"No," Tonraq said. "We can protect her."

Senna fell silent, looking at him expectantly.

He closed his eyes. "We'll hide her."

Senna gasped, before closing her own eyes and clutching his hand even tighter. "No, we can't, Tonraq. We can't do that. That would be deceiving the entire world."

"Damn the world," Tonraq snapped. "I don't owe anything to the world that expects Korra to do its bidding."

"Please, dear, I know it's upsetting. I'm upset, too," Senna said, her voice beginning to break. "But we just can't…it's not our choice." It was her turn to hide her face in her hands. Tonraq moved his arms and held her. After several minutes of silence, he finally complied, but still hesitantly.

"…Just for a while," he murmured. "Just…let her be our daughter for a while. We can announce it later. She can belong to the world later."

Senna returned his hold. "…All right." Then, she leaned back to look at her husband, her face bittersweet. "This is so hard."

"It is." Tonraq sighed and tucked her head underneath his chin. "I thought the most I would ever have to worry about Korra was making sure she married the right man." Discovering their only child was the Avatar was never exactly mentioned in parenting lectures from the villagers.

For the first time that evening, Senna gave a small smile. "But she'll be a great Avatar."

Tonraq huffed. "She'll be the best damn Avatar the world has ever seen, of course." With that, his face softened. "But she will always be my daughter, first."

"I know," she said, leaning fully against her husband. "It's always been customary for Avatars to start their training when they turn sixteen. So until then…."

"Until then," Tonraq agreed, and stroked his hand up and down her back, listening to the snores of their daughter in the other room.

It was only a year later when Tonraq came in through the entrance, snow falling from his hood and shoulders, when he announced that he ran into a messenger from the White Lotus in the heart of the village.

"And?" Senna asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tonraq quieted for a moment, before his face spread out into a smile. "I told him. He will be delivering the message to other members and they will come by in about a week. He was very doubtful of the claim, but…I think they won't have any trouble believing us once they're here."

Senna ran up to embrace him, holding tight before releasing him and returning his wide grin. Her eyes were sad, though. "…So that's it, then. The world will finally know…."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back in. "…Yes, they will know." He tucked her head underneath his, in their usual comforting hold. "But we still have until she turns of age."

"She will always be our daughter, you know."

"…I know."

In a moment of breaking the tense air, Senna grinned. "I gave birth to the Avatar. Not many of the other mothers in the village can claim that!"

"And I am more proud of my daughter than any father could be," Tonraq added, admitting for the very first time that he held pride in Korra's fate. It only made Senna even more sentimental, and they held each other for several long minutes.

It was still hard for them to accept it. But at the very least, they could support Korra, wherever her destiny as the Avatar took her. They felt selfish as her parents and wanted to keep her from the world, but it was clearly impossible at that point. They could only raise her and love her.

After a long while, Senna looked around, noticing the completely cracked an uneven ground, the burn marks on their pelts, and the puddles of water strewn about. Her face fell, and then she sighed. "…We should probably clean the place up before they get here."

End