Smoke and Mirrors

by Mezzo-chan

Katara stared at her reflection, regarding it as though it were an unfamiliar animal, foreign and exotic. Her face had been painted delicately, her hair tied up with loose, waving strands dangling near her ears and neck, and blue flowers adorned her visage, weaved together forming a humble kind of crown.

Gingerly, her hand trailed from her red lips to the blue necklace she treasured, noticing in the mirror how small it seemed looked now compared to all those years ago when she'd received it. She witnessed her reflection, a stranger, remove the necklace from the long, graceful neck, and place it on the marble nightstand next to the other trappings of the occasion.

She gathered up the many layers of silk that made up her gown, and padded in a meditative silence to the small altar that sat on the windowsill of the lavish chambers. She tried to recall how she'd gotten to this place, in these clothes, to this day even. Only a few years ago she'd been living in a hut made of ice, wearing clothes of fur and thick skins, and could only dream of the warm, faraway lands that made up the outside world.

And now she was there. Where she'd always dreamed of being, wearing clothes that were worth more than the savings of her entire tribe. All thanks to a boy.

She smiled at the thought of him. Aang had changed her world. Made it larger and much more beautiful and terrifying and alive. Katara busied herself with tying her long sash around her waist, adjusting the gown until she was pleased with her mirror counterpart. She turned and lifted a few sticks of incense off the altar and lit them on the small candle burning there.

She returned to her nightstand, trailing thin, sweet smelling tendrils of smoke behind her as she walked. The room in the mirror began to look hazy as she waved them absentmindedly, admiring the patterns they made in the air. She set them down and picked up her mother's necklace again.

Katara had never been spiritual before she met Aang, but it seemed appropriate today that she bow her head and whisper a prayer, something simple yet reverent to fit with the atmosphere the incense had made throughout the chamber.

"Mother…" she began, but paused, unsure of the delicate and somewhat unfitting painted face staring back at her through the reflected haze. She had never considered herself an elegant girl, as battle tended to harden one's features, and she certainly felt out of place in the dainty earth-kingdom make-up that had been applied. It made her look fragile, like a porcelain doll, and anyone who had seen Katara during the war knew she was far from fragile. A shiver found its way down her spine, her thoughts straying from the task at hand, and wondered if she was perhaps lying to herself, wearing these clothes, pretending she belonged here, and whether she deserved to go through the ceremony waiting for her in the next hour.

She stared at her own eyes in the mirror, inhaled the sweet fragrance of the burning incense, and thought of Aang. She felt her troubled heart calm and melt a little. Of course she belonged here. Aang made her belong. Of course she deserved it. Aang was reason enough to make her throw her reservations to the wind, and somehow he'd made her welcome in a world that had seemed strange and unreachable. Aang made her feel that she could achieve anything. And when she was with him she never felt guilt for wanting to achieve everything.

She steeled herself now, this is no time for cold feet, she thought.

"Mother," she began again, "You've watched over me for all these years. I've missed you terribly. I wish you could be here today. I used to worry that I'd never be happy again without you. But I've grown, and I've changed. Aang changed me. Aang's the reason I'm here now, the reason I'm strong. Mom, I wish you could have met him," she felt her eyes water slightly, but breathed deep the smoke and pressed on, "What I'm getting to, Mom, is that I want your blessing. Please, watch over us with fondness, watch over Aang and keep him with me always, watch over me and keep me strong for him. I never thought this day would come, and now that it's here, I worry it's a dream. But Mother…even if this was a dream…even if this life I've been living were an illusion…it's one I never want to wake up from,"

Katara smiled a little, knowing there was nothing else to be said, and murmured a thank you to the dearly departed, imagining that perhaps on the other side of the strange world of smoke and glass that lay before her, her mother was smiling and speaking her blessings through their shared blue eyes. She set down the necklace and lifted up a new one, shining and round, freshly carved and hanging on a long silver chain, which she fastened around her neck now.

Katara sat back in silence, observing herself meticulously, but warily, until a figure appeared in the smoke behind her reflection. It was a familiar apparition, one that she'd known for many years, one that had grown alongside her in a harmonious transformation into adulthood. His shoulders were broader than when they first met, his jaw more set, but his eyes were kind and warm and full of love and life and unbridled joy.

She turned slowly, as if afraid that the smoke would clear and reveal him to be a daydream, but he stood solid and real against the shimmering light of her window, a smile playing on his lips.

"Aang," she murmured, moving to stand. He reached out a hand to her, his blue arrow stark against the yellows and oranges of his robes.

"Are you ready Katara?" he asked pleasantly, "They're all waiting for us,"

She took his hand and felt her heartbeat quicken to match his nervous pulse. Underneath their calm demeanors, they communicated a sudden anxiety, a rush of excitement and anticipation.

"Are you nervous?" she laughed a little, remembering that he'd grown tall and she had to look up at him now.

"Yeah," he inhaled slowly, the smoke caressing his face and winding around the two of them, "You look…really, really beautiful,"

She smiled again, her old apprehension melting away in his shining presence, and took his arm. She glanced a last look at the strikingly beautiful couple in the mirror behind them, the incense burned down to its last dregs, and for the first time, she heard the faraway strains of lively, jubilant music coming from outside.

Aang pushed open the door. He walked with Katara, arm in arm, out of the hazy room of smoke and mirrors, towards their wedding day.

Fin