All the normal disclaimers apply. I don't own the concept of A:TLA , just this story arc and the OC's.
It is cannon safe, could be interpreted in all ways. Hope you enjoy. Imp
She found the girl - nearly a woman now - peeking around the corner of the flap, watching as the old man packed his bag. She heard her stifling a laugh at the sight of him packing that much dried fish for such a short period. She had to stifle her own urge to roll her eyes at the sight of the two and instead opted for a sigh. The sound made the young girl jump and turn guilty eyes in her direction. She smiled at the girl cocking her head, a question in her eyes. The girl slowly smiled back and turned back to glance at the old man. "Mom, where is Gramp-Gramp going?" the girl asked softly, slight concern in her voice.
She placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, slowly caressing the bottom strands of her hair, "He is going out like he normally does. You know this," she told her.
Her daughter turned her head and she could see that her bottom lip was being chewed on in worry. "But he isn't well - doesn't he know that? Being out on the cold on the water won't help."
She sighed, "I know love, and so does he, but it's just something that he must do."
"But why?" her daughter asked softly, turning back to watch her grandfather.
Sighing to herself, she looked down at her daughters turned head and her thoughts drifted back to her own memories.
She peeked around the corner of the flap and watched her father packing. She laughed to herself as he crammed more food into the bag than was possible. She jumped when she heard a throat clearing behind her and spun around to find her mother standing there. She was holding a bag in her hands, looking at her with a smile.
"Mom, what's dad doing?" she asked her, even though she knew the answer. She had known from a young age that her father took a few trips a year out onto the ocean by himself during the few days the moon was full. He only went on them when they were visiting with the water tribe during one of their long stays.
"He is going out like he normally does," her mother told her, reaching a hand out to ruffle her hair.
She glared at her mom. "Yeah, but why?"
Her mother sighed, and looked off to the side. "It's his way of remembering an old friend, someone who was important to him and was lost during the war," her mother told her, the smile becoming melancholy.
She knew all about the war - her father and the Avatar loved to act out the battles while telling their stories. They even dragged the Fire Lord in when they were all together, with her aunt laughing and yelling at them that they were over exaggerating.
"Who?" she asked her mother, all the memories of the stories running through her head.
"The girl that become the moon," her mother told her plainly.
"The Northern water tribe princess?" she asked a little confused, "I didn't know dad was friends with her, too."
"Well, yes…" her mother told her quietly, "They were really good friends…" Her mother's word turned into a sigh as her eyes drifted over to where her father was. She narrowed her eyes in confusion as she looked at her mother's face. "Tell your father good night and get to bed now, all right." Her mother said, the smile returning to her face. She simply nodded and did as her mother bade.
It was during another storytelling that she learned the princess was sort of her dad's girlfriend before she had become the moon to save everyone. Yet the Avatar never talked about the princess like she was dead, because she had become a spirit and therefore was still alive in a way. That was when she became suspicious of her dad's trips.
One evening when her mother was putting her to bed she asked her if she thought dad still loved the princess. Her mother's shocked face was as much a surprise as the answer she gave her. "Well… yes… like I said, she was very important to him."
When her mother had asked her why she was asking, she refused to answer and just glared off to the side.
When she had been suffering from her first real heartache, she had again shocked her mother by asking if she had ever hated her father for loving another woman.
She had smiled softly and reached out to lay a warm palm on her cold cheek, caressing it softly with her thumb. "At times," her mother sighed, "But your father loves me and I know that. He has never loved me any less. He has never compared the two of us and has never chosen a favorite. He loves us both in our own ways and for our own deeds. And I have been able to love him in ways she never has. I have had a life with him, a home, children. She has only been able to watch. There are times that I feel sorry for her, knowing what she is missing. But because of her, I was able to have your father and you, my love, and I am thankful for that."
There was a part of her that couldn't believe her mother since she was old enough to understand where her father was going and who he was seeing. How could her mother ever be thankful knowing that she still had to share?
It was not until one evening when she was many years older when she finally understood. She had seen her mother slip out of the lodge one evening after she had helped her settle her own children to sleep. Her father had gone away on another one of his trips and her own husband was asleep, after returning from a hunt. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she had followed her mother outside. She had been shocked to find her mother standing on a small snow mound bathed in moonlight, the wind softly blowing her mother's fur coat around her ankles. She watched as her mother gathered it close to her chest as she quietly talked to herself. It was only after hearing her mother's musical laughter and seeing her tilt her head upwards to the sky that she realized that her mother was indeed talking to someone else. She listened briefly as her mother talked of her grandchildren's exploits, and then to her surprise heard her mother asking for the other person to take care of her father for the next few nights as usual. She had to stifle a gasp when she barely heard a light tinkling voice respond, "Always." The moonlight seemed to flare suddenly around her mother's form then dim slightly as if it had been directed elsewhere. She watched her mother stand for a moment longer, staring at the sky. Then she heard her mother whisper, "Thank you."
She finally realized her mother had in fact been telling her the truth all those years ago. It was then that she put aside her hurt jealous feelings and concerns of her father being stolen away by another woman and abandoning her mother. She truly listened for the first time in years to the stories of the exploits of her father, aunt and their friends without her invalid fears looming over, turning the admiration into distrust.
It was not long after that when she decided to name her final child after the woman who had given up everything to give her father the chance to live. Her father had at first sent a small concerned glance towards her mother, the tears barely contained in his eyes. But her mother had merely smiled at him with that soft smile of hers, pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered in his ear. He had cried in earnest at that, hugging her mother in unrestrained affection.
She sighed as she looked down at her own daughter, her youngest child, the namesake. "I'll tell you once he leaves. But for now, do you want to take him this?" handing her daughter a bag with a soft smile upon her face. Her daughter nodded and took it, then went into to the room with her grandfather. She smiled to herself when she heard the man tell her daughter, "Ah! That's just what I needed - how did you know? What would I ever do without all my girls in my life, huh?" and her daughter's girlish laughter in response.
Later that evening she watched as her father paddled off into the night.
"Do you think he will come back this time?" the girl next to her quietly asked.
She nodded her head in response to her daughter's question. "Yes," she replied quietly back.
The girl huffed. "Alive?" she prodded further, her eyes still watching the man's movements.
She jerked her eyes away from her father's form and looked down at her daughter, such a serious girl at times. "I don't know," she honestly told her daughter after a few moments. Her father was old by now. He was almost all that was left of the friends that had formed over the war: lived to see his friend, the Avatar, die and be reborn within their own tribe; lived to see his children grow and their children grow themselves; lived through the loss of his wife, her mother. She knew by now that he was ready, but worried about his family. She also knew how tired he was and she would begrudge him no more. Her mother had passed on in her sleep, held in her father's arm with a soft smile upon her face. She wanted no less comfort for him.
Her arm snaked out of her furs and reached around her daughter's shoulders to pull her close. Her daughter looked up at her, tears shining in her eyes. She smiled sadly and sighed, "I am not sure, love, but I know she will bring him back. One way or another, she always does."
She turned her head to look at the full moon. "Watch him please. Bring him comfort if he needs it. And of course, the usual," she said quietly.
Her daughter's questioning look turned into one of surprise as the moonlight flared around them suddenly. She felt the light touch of a hand brush across her cheek and smiled as she heard her daughter gasp softly. "Always," came the voice she had heard so many years before. She saw her daughter staring into the moonlight and she could briefly make out the form of a white-haired woman. The white-haired woman smiled at her daughter and then looked again at her. "Thank you," the woman told her, blue eyes meeting her own. She smiled and nodded in response.
When the moonlight dimmed and seemed to trail after her father's wake, she turned to her daughter, who was still in her arms. "Let's go in, Yue, and I will tell you some more about your grandfather, the man who loved the moon."