This is an extreme AU of canon. Set 8 years after the pilot episode. It will be dark. There will be violence, character death, and adult sexual situations.


It was a rare tranquil day in the tail end of winter. The tundra glittered, ice crystals catching sunlight like diamonds, sending pinpricks of gold skyward. A wave crested and rocked the fishing boat gently, slow and deep. An icy wind, a precursor for a storm looming past the horizon, where the sun and sea came to meet, whipped Katara's hair loopies into her face. They slapped against her cheek in time with the ripples of the Water Tribe flag in the air. Her son Hai gurgled against her back, kept close inside her parka, hot little feet kicking against her sides. His fat hands grasped at the flapping tail of her braid and he gurgled, cowing his pleasure.

Sokka grinned. "My nephew's a natural warrior. Look at him, he's already at home on the sea!" Sokka made a face at Hai, twisting his lips and puffing his cheeks, and Hai squealed.

Katara rolled her eyes, pushing her hands behind her back to adjust Hai's grip on her body with his knees. "Or he's a waterbender. I think waterbenders have a better appreciation for the ocean than you."

"Never," Sokka said, expression flitting into an imitation of seriousness. It was the first time in a long time she'd seen her brother without a smile, not since the news of their father's death, since the day the world burned. "You might love your magic water. But the ocean gives me meat."

"Perhaps," Kaito called from where he was adjusting the rigging. He wound the frayed edges of rope around his slender hands. "He is neither. And, like his father, he enjoys the simple pleasures of both land and sea." His knot securely fastened, Kaito kissed Katara gently on the cheek. The stubble he had only recently begun growing again rasped her. He then plucked their son from Katara's parka and brought Hai out into the frigid air.

It amazed Katara, without fail, how much she loved her son and the man who had helped her make him. It filled her, like the tide moving swiftly into a coastal cavern, rushing until it overflowed. Her heart ached to look at them—her darling son, cocooned in artic lynx-hare fur blankets, swaddled in her husband's arms. Her perfect little Hai, round cheeks ruddy from the excitement, bright green eyes peeking out from the hood of his parka, framed by a few wisps of dark hair. Her Hai—the first baby born into the Southern Water Tribe in ten years.

"Yeah," Sokka said, nodding. He clapped Kaito on the back. "Maybe he'll end up being an earthbender. He'll rattle the tundra and scare away the walrus-oxen and you'll splash and scare away all the fish!"

Cackling at his own joke, nearly doubled over with laughter, Sokka headed off to tend to important matters of the ship.

"Sokka's an idiot," Katara sighed, seeing the shocked look on Kaito's face.

Kaito shrugged, long used to her brother's antics. He was Sokka's long suffering comrade in arms and hunting partner. Accompanying Sokka for days while they went out to cut holes in the ice and fish.

"My great-aunt was an earthbender," Kaito said, in a hushed sort of wonder. He touched their son's almost entirely covered forehead with his lips. "If Hai were an earthbender, he'd be one of the last ones left."

It was the first time they had broached the topic. It was taboo, almost, to speak of the destruction, of the near obliteration of the Earth Kingdom. Apart from Kaito and a spattering of refugees on the southeastern islands, there were no Earth Kingdom citizens left. Kaito never brought the subject up, much, not after they had married. Though he had never outright said it to her, Katara knew he was doing his best to focus on the happiness his new life could bring.

"We'll cross that ice bridge when we get to it," Katara took Hai back from him, nodding to where Sokka and some of the men were unfolding the nets. "And not a moment before."

Safe inside her parka again, Hai quieted, and drifted off to sleep. It was his first time out on the ocean—Katara had insisted on accompanying the men on an impromptu fishing expedition. She remembered how it had felt to be left behind so continuously, watching her father and Sokka grow smaller and smaller while she was stranded ashore She didn't want that for her son.

The early morning held such promise of peace and tranquility, so it should have been no surprise when it ended abruptly.

The ship, when they finally saw it, came rushing at them from behind an iceberg. No longer in hiding, it sent up a column of smoke as its engines steamed to life. Katara knew before she ever saw the flag's insignia that the ship was Fire Empire. It rammed them hard enough that Pakak lost his grip on the banister and went tumbling over the side. No sooner had the ship made contact when a dozen Fire Empire soldiers came leaping aboard. The deck sputtered into chaos, cries of warfare, flames crackling up into the air. Katara, useless with Hai's weight strapped to her, and not particularly competent without it, began to move toward the hatch to slip below deck. It felt cowardly to leave her husband and her people, but Hai's safety had to come first.

As she sprinted starboard, one of the soldiers advanced toward her. His facemask was bone white in the sun, and the fire in his hands cast shadows in his eyes. Though she knew there was a man inside the armor, she had never seen something so inhuman. He looked like a restless spirit come back to earth.

He raised his hand to strike her, palms flaming, and from somewhere behind her a cry echoed to the heavens, ringing like a gull, long and sharp. In an instant, Sokka's boomerang reflected red as it spun through a burst of fire, rocketing toward the firebender, and Kaito's spear slashed into the chest of his armor, even as a stray blast of fire struck Kaito in the head. It happened in slow motion—the fire caught Kaito across the left half of his face. His hair singed and lit like tinder and his whole head was set ablaze. The firebender with the spear in his chest gurgled as his blood splashed onto the deck. Katara recoiled in horror as the man's bladder let go and he sunk to his knees.

It took Katara several moments to realize she was screaming. Then the meat smell of her husband's charred flesh wafted to her, and she bent at the waist and began to retch. Kaito lay before her, gasping, writing in agony as he continued to burn. The skin on his face smoldered slowly, burnt beyond recognition, lips shriveled, crunching each time he struggled to draw a breath. His eyes melted in their sockets, gaping holes staring toward the pale sky.

"Kaito!" She shrieked and knelt before him, reaching out to clasp his spasming hand.

Something hard struck her. The butt of a spear? And she blinked against an explosion of pain.

In her haze she thought—my baby? She heard someone talking. She thought it was herself.

"My baby?" Her back was too light, her sling empty. She shivered with cold. "My baby? Hai. Give me my son please."

Her eyes drooped, fluttered, and snapped open when she heard her son's crying. Wailing. Her darling boy, the sea and the sky and the stars to her, more precious than the moon.

"Hai?" She asked softly, and caught sight of him, finally. One of the officers held him by his ankle. Upside down, Hai shrieked angrily. He kicked his feet and waved his tiny fists. You can't hold a baby that way, Katara thought she heard herself saying.

Then.

Then she heard nothing but the sound of her own anguish as the officer tossed her son overboard. She was moving before she heard her the splash. A seashell pounded in her head as her hands strained, reaching for any source of water, as she aimed at the officer's face. Only a weak dribble of seawater struck him. Katara's eyes rolled even as she staggered, toward the ocean, toward her baby, Hai baby oh just wait for me baby hold your breath please.

A fist slammed into her jaw. Katara crumpled. The seabirds screamed.


Katara met Kaito a heavy August evening. The white tundra dappled almost golden in the fading light of fall. Summer season was closing—seals and walrus-oxen swam sleek with their fat pups, penguins held their tiny babies between their feet. The sky and sea reflected one another.

Katara chewed a strip of sinew to soften it. She would use it as the lace for a new pair of boots. As she chewed, she watched the icebergs drift on the horizon. They rose like teeth toward the sky, huge and jagged. She was reminded of three years earlier when, caught in an argument with Sokka, she had split an iceberg in half with her bending. A bolt of light shot skyward and cast the snow an eerie blue. The light faded as fast as it had manifested, and the remaining pieces of the iceberg glugged and sank to the ocean floor. Katara had felt exhilarated for hours after, amazed that her own body could contain such power and produce such force.

As she watched, an iceberg shifted, and a fast moving ship came into view. Its metal hull glinted dully. Katara felt panic swell like a wave within her and she sprinted off to find her brother, sinew still tucked into the corner of her mouth.

Sokka was with the young boys, halfway through another warrior training. The boys were older now, a few just beginning to enter adolescence, and they sat entranced at Sokka's feet. "Sokka! There's a ship." Sokka jumped up. "Boys, this isn't a drill! You know what to do." In seconds the boys scattered. Someone blew a whistle. The village went into a flurry of activity as women herded children into the closest huts. One of the boys brought Sokka his weapons and she followed her brother as they went to meet the ship at the village edge.

The ship didn't fly a flag, but the markings on the side of the hull were faded green. It approached the village with caution, and anchored offshore. A small longboat was lowered into the water, and six men climbed aboard.

"Identify yourselves!" Sokka shouted, brandishing his boomerang and spear. It surprised Katara, sometimes, how much her brother had changed. He was a man now, not a young boy dressed up in warrior's paint. He was formidable, tall, with muscle in his shoulders and a wide chest. He was almost of marrying age, he would be in four months' time, and then he would have his pick of war widows for a wife. But, he and Gran-Gran had already discussed it, and it made more sense for Sokka to wait a few years until Ila reached her sixteenth year. Sokka needed a young bride to help him produce a new generation, to replace the many men that had been lost. Katara had long accepted that she would go for years unmarried, until finally one of the young boys turned twenty too. Then, if the spirits blessed her, she might have time to bear a child or two before she was no longer able. She was willing to wait, even for these young boys who were already like her own children. It was her own desire for family—to regain a small piece of what had been so brutally stolen from her throughout the years.

"We're Earth Kingdom refugees," a man from the boat shouted. He wore a green bandana tied around his head. "We've been living on a small island chain a ways north. We came to trade."

"They don't look Fire Nation," Katara whispered to Sokka. Katara remembered the Fire Nation as brute strength, harsh eyes like glowing embers. Nothing like the humble party of men shivering in the cold.

"Maybe that's part of their plan. Lull us into a false sense of security and then—fire blast." Sokka narrowed his eyes. "I didn't think there were any Earth Kingdom citizens left."

"There's a few of us," the man said. His eyes, brown as Katara's own complexion, blinked back tears.

"Prove it," Sokka replied just as gravely.

"None of us are benders," he said, simply, sadly. He unfolded a piece of parchment from his pocket. "This is all I have."

The painting showed the man, a decade younger, smiling proudly in Earth Kingdom military garb. His uniform was shades of green Katara had never seen before. "Is that enough proof for you?"

Sokka nodded, returned the parchment. "It'll do. Welcome to the Southern Water Tribe, brother."

Every family welcomed a member of the trading party into their hut that evening. In Sokka and Katara's home, they hosted a young man named Kaito. Kaito was thin, round faced, with long hands and wide palms that fit his body awkwardly. His hands dwarfed the openings of his sleeves. His long hair cast his face in shadow against the firelight, and his jaw was peppered with an anemic beard.

Night descended, darkly starless, but Katara was wide awake. Sokka snored deeply, bundled in his furs in the corner. Gran-Gran had gone to another hut for the night. Kaito was wide awake as well, his green eyes wide and full of reflected moon.

"Are you hungry?" Katara asked him quietly. She was at a loss of what else to do. She needed to be active, to have a purpose, to do something other than lie still. This spattering of refugees had her excited. If Earth Kingdom citizens had survived the genocide, then maybe their Water Tribe men had too. Like these men, maybe they were waiting, cautiously looking for the right time to return.

"I could eat," Kaito nodded, bowing his head.

Katara stirred leftover fish and seal stew with her bending. She blew a few times on the fire and it grew. Soon the stew began to bubble. "That's impressive," Kaito said, smiling. "Your bending is so practical. I've always wondered what that would be like."

"You can't earthbend?"

"No. I'm not a bender. I'm not much of a fighter, really. I was conscripted into the regular Earth Kingdom army when I was seventeen, but I wasn't a very good soldier. I was dishonorably discharged." Kaito fidgeted, eyes downcast, and his fingers toyed idly with a loose thread on his shirt. "My general said I didn't have the proper constitution for war. I'm…I was, I mean, from a small fishing village. All I know how to do is fish. I can barely even clean them myself—the blood, it just…ick." He shuddered, green eyes fluttering closed. "I know that's not very becoming of a man my age."

"I think it takes a real man to admit his disgust with war."

Kaito said nothing. The stew in the pot warmed, filling the hut with its salty scent. Katara used her bending again, this time to place a portion of stew into two bowls. Though now the move was simple, almost effortless, it had taken her months to master. She had wasted many portions of soup, much to Sokka's dismay.

"I wish…" Kaito said, finally, as he sipped at the thick broth. "I wish I had been a better soldier. I wonder how things might have been different. If I could have helped more the day the Fire Empire came."

Katara waited for him to continue, but Kaito just resumed his sipping of his broth. There was pain in his eyes, she could see it even in the darkness.

"I know how you feel. Even though I'm a waterbender, there was nothing I could do the day the Fire Nation killed my mother." Her throat tightened and she strained to swallow her mouthful of soup. A tear, hotter than the fire flickering beside her, slid down the side of her cheek.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Katara." Kaito set his bowl down. Katara saw that it was still mostly full.

"I'm sorry for yours too."

They sat contentedly afterward, slurping stew in silence, and said nothing more until the sun rose to obscure the moon.


Voices. Katara woke to voices. Sobbing. Cries of mourning. To a hand cupping the back of her bleeding head.

Can you hear me?

She thought she heard Kaito's voice.

"I can hear you," she whispered, and felt her eyes roll into the back of her head. "Kaito bring me the baby he needs to eat."

"I'm not Kaito," the voice said.

Katara breathed, and the pain inside her head was like a breath of winter cold. She forced herself to open her eyes.

She was somewhere dark. Dank. The smell of the air was unbearable, fetid with body odor, with blood and shit and piss. As she adjusted to the darkness, she saw shackles locked around her ankles, and felt another two around her wrists. She tried to move and chains jangled.

"Where am I?" She asked, her head drooping forward, chin against her chest. She couldn't keep her head up, couldn't keep her eyes open. She hurt, from the top of her head to her toes, from her blood to her bones.

Hands, dry and warm, lifted her head softly.

"In the cargo hold. We're on a Fire Empire ship."

Katara remembered then—remembered every detail—and her body seized in agony and she lurched. She vomited a hot rush onto her lap, felt the bile slide through her clothing and stick to her skin. "Shh," that voice said again. Those hands, firm and purposeful, dabbed at her vomit flecked lips. "It's okay. Your head wound is pretty bad, it's still bleeding. But I think you're going to be alright."

"They killed my baby," Katara wept, every part of her wishing for death too.

Those hands turned her head, then. And suddenly, she was looking at a face. Green eyes, huge and bright like Kaito's, like Hai's, met her uncoordinated gaze. Thumbs wiped her tears away.

"Cry as much as you need to," that kind face said to her. "The Fire Empire killed my baby too."

When Katara woke up again, the pain in her head had receded, slightly, into a throbbing ache. That kind face was still there, solemn in the darkness, and a huge hand clasped hers. "My name's Haru. Are you feeling better?"

"Katara," she said, and fought the urge to vomit. "Not really. Tell me where we are Haru."

He shrugged as much as his shackles would allow. "I don't know. They brought you down here maybe two days ago. I know we're leaving the South Pole."

She closed her eyes, but kept her head held high. She swallowed and her mouth was dry as walrus-oxen hide. "Why did they take us? The Fire Nation doesn't take prisoners." The man who killed her mother had made that abundantly clear when he'd set fire to her mother's face. Now she had watched two people she loved dearly burn.

"I'm an earthbender," Haru said. "They…they need earthbenders to help them with construction projects in the Fire Empire. It takes weeks to make what a good earthbender could build in a day."

"I'm not an earthbender."

"No," he nodded. "You're not. But you're a woman. You're a spoil of war."

It took Katara's brain several moments to process this information. Then the sounds and the smells made meaning to her, and she opened her eyes. They were not alone in the cargo hold. Chained, from floor to wall, were various men and women. Men like Haru, dressed in ragged scraps of green, long hair falling into their unwashed faces. Women, young, only young, women she recognized from her tribe and others, all women with sturdy waists and pretty faces and empty eyes. She felt heat beside her, and realized she was chained close to a girl as well. There was no room to move in the hold, save for a path of steel in the center, where no doubt a guard or sentry sometimes stood.

"What are they going to do to us?" She asked Haru, though she already knew.

"Me, they'll work me until I'm too weak. Then they'll execute me, probably publicly." Haru swallowed, his head fell backwards against the steel wall. "I don't…it wouldn't be polite, or proper, to say what they plan to do to you."