For My People

Summary: As I sank deeper in the waters and heat raged through my body and life escaped faster than my exhalation, I knew I had done the right thing – for Aang, for Sokka . . . for my people. (Oneshot. Princess Yue's thoughts as she dies)

Rating: K

Genre: general

Canon Character(s): Princess Yue ; Sokka ; Katara ; General Iroh ; Tui, the Moon Spirit ; La, the Ocean Spirit

OC Character(s): none

Set During: Book One: Water – The Siege of the North, Part II

Note: This oneshot will follow the way the movie did it. I didn't like the way the movie came out, but sometimes I find one itty bitty scene that I for some odd reason like how the movie did better than the original, and this happened to be it. Not for the script, because it wasn't that great, but just because I felt the whole lying-down-in-the-pool-and-having-everything-light-up was more mystical than the original, where she just put her hand on the fish, the fish glowed, and she fainted and died. I don't know. I just thought it was cooler. Of course, if you feel that this would have worked better with the original, review and let me know.

This will be in first person, Princess Yue as the narrator, and I am incorporating bits and pieces of the original because sometimes the movie's mysticalness of the scene just failed to cover for . . . well, everything else.


~ Princess Yue ~
I stared over the waters of the pool, watching the black figure of the Ocean Spirit swim frantically in circles around the prone, sinking white figure of the Moon Spirit, which was sending out ripples every centimeter it sank deeper. The entire world, though, seemed to be in shades of white, black, and grey, except for the moon, which was a deep blood red – the red of the blood of the people who were dying.

My people who were dying.

Normally, the waters of the pool were still.

Normally, the waters of the pool were crystal clear.

Normally, the Spirit Oasis was warm, calm, and centering, with the two koi fish swimming endlessly in a ceaseless circle in the very center.

Tonight, though, was no normal night. Not by any standards.

Fire Nation ships were blasting holes through the ice walls that for a century had shielded the Northern Water Tribe. Firebenders patrolled in the streets, fighting the Waterbenders, blasting the buildings with heat, slaying all in their way. And the General of these Firebenders had found his way here, and struck perhaps the greatest blow of all to the tribe.

The Moon Spirit was dead.

Tui she was called, and she was one of our greatest and most renowned spirits. It was she whom the first Waterbenders had learned to be Waterbenders; it was she who had given us our greatest gift and defense; and it was she who, long ago, had deigned to give life to me.

We owed her everything.

And we had failed her in everything.

General Iroh leaned down slowly, his movements slow yet steady, almost like a Waterbender. We were all bowed by grief, but for some reason, he grieved too, and I found in me no desire, for some reason, to see him as an enemy. His face was heavy with it, and he even had shame, although why I could not comprehend.

I tried, and almost failed, to suppress a sob at the sight of the noble spirit lying dead. She had given up immortality to help humanity. And now it was humanity that had ended her.

With her death was the death of hope. My people would die without her.

I would die. Already, when that Firebender had made the slice, I had felt the stabbing pain in my heart that threatened to overwhelm me. Even now, I could feel my own life ebbing like water flowing back from a high tide. Tui had given me life. But now she was dead.

Dead on my watch.

Sokka gently placed an arm around me, trying to comfort me. He understood, at least a little, for his own sister was a Waterbender and he was from our sister tribe. But he was not the ruler the way I was. And it was not his people who were now being resigned to death because of the death of Tui, although I was sure that with the death of the Nothern Water Tribe, the Southern Water Tribe, which had already lost its Waterbenders, would slowly die as well.

Even the Avatar wouldn't be able to right the balance if an entire way of life, an entire season, an entire art of Bending, was destroyed.

And even now, I could hear the shouts, the cries, the screams from the battle.

From the dying.

But what can we do? Nothing. There is nothing we can do, I thought in despair. Not even hope exists now. . .

Just then, General Iroh stiffened suddenly. "You have been touched by the Moon Spirit," he said sharply, his voice half astonished and half on the road to something bigger.

I glanced at him, surprised. What would a Firebender now of it? I confirmed his belief, though.

He blinked in surprise, and something changed in his gold eyes. Something came in. The anger that had scared off all the Firebender troops and even the general that had killed the Moon Spirit had long since vanished, replaced by sadness and fear and resignation – now there was something else there.

Hope?

He leant forward, pleas in his voice, reminding me that since the Moon Spirit had given me life . . . I could give it back.

Beside me, Sokka stiffened, hand going to his weapon. Even Katara looked uneasy.

But . . . But his words made sense.

And he had stood for us, for the Tribe, for the Moon Spirit. He had warned the other general to put the Moon Spirit down, not to destroy it, to leave in peace. He had even summoned fire against them, letting us escape unnoticed because of his fury.

He was a Firebender.

But in his gold eyes, I saw no hate, no pride, no enmity.

He wanted peace, just as I did.

I wasn't the Avatar. I was not even a Bender. But I had always been sensitive to the emotions of others; something, perhaps, I had inherited from the Moon Spirit. Like when I had known of Sokka's affection for me.

And I knew now that General Iroh spoke nothing but what he believed was the truth, because he wanted peace.

Even if he meant betraying his own people.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "Is it mine to give back, if I wish?" I asked him, because I had to know. The Avatar could pass between worlds, and the Avatar only. I had no idea how to go about exchanging my life for the Moon Spirit's. And my people had no ruler but me; I was the last of my line. I had to make certain that this would be the way to do it.

I would do anything to save my people after all.

And perhaps General Iroh wasn't so bad at reading people himself. He shrugged. Then he said, very softly, "There are reasons each of us are born. We have to find those reasons."

His voice was that of a king, speaking to a fellow queen.

I stared back over the Spirit Oasis. It was so warm here, so peaceful, so full of life. It would not be so, I knew, if the Fire Nation conquered the Tribe and wiped us out, as they were sure to do. And they would conquer us, if we could not fight back, and we could not fight back without our Waterbenders.

There are reasons each of us are born.

I had been born sickly, silent, and still. My father had prayed night and day before bringing me here, and then the Moon Spirit had answered his prayers.

Maybe . . . Maybe that hadn't been a coincidence.

After all, here I stood at the edge of the pool, seeing the prone figure of the Moon Spirit before me.

I closed my eyes and searched my own feelings. I wanted to help my people. I wanted General Iroh to be right. If the price was my life, so be it. But only I could decide if he was telling the truth or if he was lying to be my end.

And everything I was, down to the depths of my soul, told me that he wasn't lying.

I opened my eyes, and stared over the rippling waters where the Ocean Spirit circled the Moon Spirit, and the words emerged without any effort at all.

"This was the reason I was born."

Everyone knew what I meant and what my decision was immediately.

General Iroh inclined his head, leaning away. When our eyes met, I could see immense respect in his eyes for me, and I knew my own eyes mirrored the same feelings. In a way, we represented our two cultures – fire and water – always at opposite ends, yet tonight, collaborators in the only way to achieve peace, not just for us, but the entire world. The Avatar was not the only way to peace; we, the leaders of our own nations, had to work together too.

This is just one step, I pleaded silently. Let there be more afterwards, and let my death be one of the last on the way to peace. Let there be peace for the generations that come after me.

In Katara's eyes, I saw a similar respect. She was so like in me, in more ways than one – independent yet restrained by our responsibilities; caring yet firm in our beliefs; young yet strong in faith, hope, and belief. And she too, in a way, was the leader of her people, yet so far distanced from them this night.

We could have been sisters. We would have been sisters.

And I knew that she saw it too.

I started to rise – and then stopped when Sokka gripped my arm.

"Yue, please – "

I whirled around. I had no time for arguing, not now. It was true, I had . . . feelings . . . for Sokka – but my people came first. Unfortunately. But I had no time for regrets. And I knew, deep in my heart, that the fearful part of me wanted him to argue, so I could be swayed to ignore General Iroh's advice, escape this unwanted duty, so I could live, so I could love him and be free of responsibility for my people.

If he spoke anymore, it would be the end of my wavering strength.

"My people are dying, Sokka." I put everything I had in me in those words. They were all that bolstered my courage to accept my fate right now. "Those who are in charge of others have a responsibility. It's time we show the Fire Nation that we believe in our beliefs as much as they believe in theirs."

I could see, though, that my words weren't getting through to him.

In his blue eyes, only his love for me shined through. He didn't want to lose me. He knew the truth of General Iroh's words.

But he simply did not want to lose me.

And if there was anything that pained me more, that drove away my own feelings of pain, that overwhelmed my own feelings of regret, it was the look on his face. He had lost his mother, his father, and most of his friends. He had loved them. Now he loved me. And now he was losing me.

"Look, Yue – " he tried to say.

I pressed my fingers to his lips. "I'm scared," I told him, at once ashamed with myself and relieved to say it. "Don't make me any more scared."

Sokka looked at me for the longest moment. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he did not cry, or motion, or speak.

But I knew that he knew that I knew that there was nothing else to be done.

This was the reason I was born.

Softly, I whispered, "I will miss you more than you know."

He bent forward and kissed me, with the gentleness of a lover but the fierceness of a man who is losing everything he is to love. I let him. And I kissed back, for it would be the only way I could ever try to repair the wound I was now carving into his heart. And I knew it would be nowhere near enough to fix it. I could only hope that my words could prevent a total collapse, and that he would somehow find the strength to move on.

When we parted, our eyes met, and I knew our hearts beat as one. There was no need for words anymore.

But I spoke anyway.

"Good-bye, Sokka. I'll always be with you."

For some reason, as I let go of his hand and stepped into the shallow waters of the pool, the words helped to ease his pain – and mine. I had no idea why.

Well, maybe I did.

It was a final good-bye. It was my promise. It was him finally realizing that I had to do this, and accepting it. Perhaps it was all three. But it helped, a very, very little, and it was worth the sinking feeling I felt by uttering them.

As soon as he nodded, I forced myself to turn.

I could not look at him as I died. I simply could not, else I wouldn't be able to go on.

Very slowly, I waded into the center of the pool. For a second, I paused, my eyes on the Moon Spirit, and for the first time doubt crept into my heart, tainting my decision and weakening my resolve.

How can my life, the life of a mere human, hope to even compare, much less resurrect, the Moon Spirit itself?

But then the black form of the Ocean Spirit swam into view, and as I locked eyes with it, my doubt died a very sudden death, purged by the steady gaze of La. The Ocean Spirit was not as kind or close to humanity as the Moon Spirit, but it was the Moon Spirit's counterpart, and it knew the need for balance as I did. And it had come, after all, in this form, to teach humanity humility.

For its gaze told me now that I was one of the reasons the Ocean Spirit still dwelt here, still watched over us, still aided us.

Then it swam away, circling not just the Moon Spirit but me as well.

And now, I knew what must be done. I closed my eyes and sighed. Thank you, I said silently.

Carefully, I started to lie down in the waters, letting the waves bear my weight. I let my body float among the waves, without any control over the direction of where it was going. I was aimless, motionless, fearless. I was ready.

I closed my eyes.

Tui, years ago you gave me part of your own life to let my own life begin. Today, I return that gift to you. Let my life be the price that pays the debt, and revives you from the death a human has dealt you. I have no fear; I have no anger; I have no hesitation. Let my sacrifice balance their greed, their cruelty, their mistake. Let my life be your life, and let balance return to the world.

I paused.

Then I added, as quietly as I possibly could, Please, I beg you, accept my gift – and help my people.

For a second, I felt nothing but the lapping of waves at my neck, the tug of the water on my hair, and the sensation of my heavy robes soaking in the water even as the water gave me a sense of weightlessness.

Then something quivered.

White light shone like the rays of the moon magnified a million fold, brilliant, pure, and dazzling. The light glimmered and danced around me, even though my closed eyes, blocking out the sight of everything else. Heat followed next; not the warm, comfortable heat of the Spirit Oasis, but a fierce, shining, burning heat – as if my spirit, my drive, my energy was being gathered together in a ray of pinpoint brilliance in my heart. Music sang, at once mournful and joyful, beckoning in its sweetness – or perhaps I imagining it.

I opened my eyes one last time, and suddenly the world was in color again.

Only it was different.

Everything was so clear, so defined, so rich. It was like someone had taken a brush and added the most vivid and realistic and life-like colors imaginable, so beautifully real that it was almost unbelievable.

Then the heat started to move.

The light shone brighter than ever, and I felt the ray of heat travel from my heart through my hair and arm and then out into the water, like beams of light skip across waves.

And then I knew I was dying.

With a sigh, I fixed my gaze on the moon – it would be my last sight in this life.

Then I closed them one last time, gathered one last breath, and let out one last sigh. And with that sigh, the heat finally left me, and I felt at once weightless beyond weightless – almost insubstantial, actually.

Now the waters closed over me. Now my life was done.

My purpose had been fulfilled. My life would revive the Moon Spirit. My people would live.

And as I sank deeper in the waters and heat raged through my body and life escaped faster than my exhalation, I knew I did the right thing – for Aang, for Sokka . . . for my people.

And so I, Princess Yue of the Nothern Water Tribe, died - for my people.