She settles back into her life at the South Pole. For months, she watches the skies for hawks with red ribbons, but none ever appear. The silence hurts the worst, even hateful angry letters would be better than this. From her correspondence with Iroh, she knows that his reaction to her disappearance resulted in an accelerated renovation plan for a portion of the north wing of the palace. She hates that she hurt him, but she believes in her heart that she would have only hurt him more had she stayed.
The seasons pass and she works hard training the village's waterbenders and delights as they grow and advance under her teaching. Aang's visits increase in frequency, and occasionally she even accompanies him on short trips to the Earth Kingdom. She can't deny the fun that they have together and they quickly fall back into the easiness that they felt during the early years after the war. It doesn't take long before she finds herself a renewed expert at making vegetarian meals or saddling Appa. When they are together in the South Pole, she almost forgets to scan the skies for messages.
She enjoys her time with Aang, and the weight in her chest that she had carried since leaving the Fire Nation starts to lighten. She does her best to keep things casual with Aang; she remembers quite vividly how this ended last time. But she knows that he feels strongly about her and it is hard not to get caught up in it. Then, on her birthday, he presents her with two surprises. The first is that he is planning to begin renovation of the Southern Air Temple for the purposes of taking up permanent residence. The second is a betrothal necklace.
At first she is speechless. With the demands of being the Avatar and his nomadic roots, she had thought he would never settle down. She had been avoiding a serious relationship with him because she didn't think he would ever be able to meet her halfway, and thus hadn't ever really let herself consider what a life with him could be like. But as he holds out the necklace between shaking fingers he explains that he can make it work, that he wants to make their love his greatest priority. Before she knows what she is doing, she throws her arms around him and accepts. A small part of her heart aches at the doors that this decision will close, but she does her best to focus on the part that is rejoicing with plans for the future.
Wedding invitations are carried off by a veritable fleet of hawks, and slowly the responses trickle in from all over the world. She and Aang work to restore the temple during the day and then open the responses they receive together in the evenings during meals. They grow increasingly excited as they read the congratulatory messages from their friends and their promises to be in attendance. She tells herself that it doesn't matter, but she notices that they have not yet received a response from the Fire Nation royal palace. She tells herself that she only wishes that he would respond because she needs a formal headcount for seating arrangements. And she never does receive a direct response; a hawk carrying Iroh's message from Ba Sing Se informs her that he and his nephew will be in attendance. She isn't sure if she should feel relieved or disappointed or nervous when she reads that scroll.
The morning of the ceremony the temple is a bustle of activity. Guests have arrived days in advance and she hears their voices as they echo throughout the stone halls. After she finishes bathing, she carefully lays out her wedding clothes on her bed and admires them as she ties the sash on her dressing robe. She sits down at her vanity to begin brushing her hair when there is a knock at her door.
She rolls her eyes and smiles. "Aang, you aren't supposed to see me this morning, it's bad luck!"
The door opens just a crack, and she almost turns in her chair and yells playfully for him to get out, but before she can a voice drifts into the room. "It's not Aang."
Her hand pauses mid-stroke, and her eyes grow wide in the mirror. She hates the way her heart skips traitorously at the sound of that voice, and the way her brain mutinously flashes images of long pale fingers against her bare skin. She doesn't know when her throat had gone dry, but she has to swallow thickly before calling for him to come in.
He steps inside and closes the door softly behind him. Under one arm he carries what looks like a small chest. His face is carefully controlled as he nods his head in her direction in greeting. "Good morning, Master Katara."
His formality makes her heart sink, but if this is the way he wants it, then so be it. She gives him a shallow bow. "Thank you for coming, Fire Lord Zuko. I wasn't sure if you would be able to make it."
"Attending the Avatar's wedding is of political importance. If I were absent from such an event, the nobles in my nation and in others would wonder if alliances had been damaged."
Ouch. "Alliances? Aang is your friend, Zuko, not just the Avatar. And so am I."
The delay in his response tells her all she needs to know, but the corners of his mouth eventually twitch upward temporarily before he states, "Of course."
The moment stretches out as they look at one another. He seems unfazed, but for Katara the silence is constricting and she has no time for whatever game he is trying to play. "…Is there something I can do for you?"
He holds out the box. "I have a gift."
He approaches her and presents her with an elaborately carved wooden box. She hefts the weight of it in her hands, and turns to set it aside. "Thank you, Zuko. I'll put it with the other wedding gifts, if that's alright."
He puts a hand on her shoulder long enough to stop her before dropping his arm to his side. "No. This is for you. Just for you."
She gives him a sideways glance, not sure what to think. She sets the box down on a chair while he stands a respectful distance away, waiting. Slowly, she slides back the top of the box to reveal its contents.
Inside is a collection of scrolls. She takes one out, the parchment dry and delicate under her fingers. Carefully, she unrolls the first scroll, and her breath catches in her throat. The characters on the page are careful and precise, bedecked with flourishes, though the ink has turned from black to brown with age. But it is not the script that catches her attention; it is the faded illustration at the top: a portrait of a woman wearing a wide brimmed hat trimmed with a veil, and a face decorated with crimson paint. Her eyes flick to the scroll's title: The Collected Legends of the Painted Lady.
"Do you remember her? Because I do. She was a tempest in my arms."
She hangs her head and rolls the scroll shut, setting it back in the box. "Zuko…"
"No. Listen to me. You owe me that, at least. If you want to break your promise from all of those years ago, fine. But my honor will not let me abandon mine. So I'm here to fulfill that obligation." He gestures at the wedding clothes that are draped across her bed. "This is wrong, Katara. It's a lie."
She turns away from him so he can't see her face. "I don't remember asking for your opinion."
"But I'm right, aren't I? All those years ago, you asked me to help you be more true to yourself, and I will tell you that nothing felt more honest or genuine than what happened between us. And you know it too."
"What do you know? You haven't even spoken to me in ages! Besides, it was you who wanted a sounding board because you aren't always sure what's right! I know myself and what I want, and this is the right thing to do. Aang is a good man, and I love him." It was supposed to come out strong and defiant, but by the end her voice sounds hollow even to her own ears. On instinct, she reaches for the pendant at her neck, to soothe away the hurt she feels. But the carvings feel foreign under her fingertips, a reminder that wind and air have replaced the waves at her throat.
He steps closer to her, hovers into the edges of her vision. He tilts his head, and his features soften incrementally. "I know you do. But that's not the whole truth, is it?"
She hates him for doing this to her now, of all times, and she hates him for knowing exactly what to say to get under her skin. Most of all she hates him for being right. But to admit it would be to risk watching everything unravel. She tries to muster up some indignation and hopes that her face does not betray her when she turns to face him. "The truth is that it was an emotional week and we both got caught up in the moment. That's it." She tries to hold his gaze, to stare him down, but she falters and her eyes skip away from his more than once.
He narrows his eyes at her, but in a way that seems more curious than angry. "Why are you lying? You know it wasn't just that. It wasn't simply an impulse; it goes back much further."
Before she can protest he surprises her by taking her hand and carefully placing it on his chest, where she knows he bears a significant scar under his heavy robes. Her eyes slide closed as she remembers crackling blue light and the feeling of ice encasing her heart as she thought she had lost him, the rage she had felt that he might be taken from her. She had fought for him then with every fiber of her being, only to give him up twice later on. And now she knows she has to do it again.
When she opens her eyes he is watching her. His steady gaze seems to look right through her; it makes her feel ashamed of the things she is leaving unsaid. But while some truths must be kept locked away, others are evident. She pulls her hand away and hugs her arms, sighing in resignation. "It doesn't matter. In a few hours I'm getting married. Aang loves me. We're going to be very happy together."
He gives her a shadow of a smile. "I hope you are. I mean that, you deserve it. And I hope someday you can tell me that with a straight face."
With that he pivots around and exits the room. She almost chases him to the door and calls after him, but doesn't. What's left to say? She takes a deep shuddering breath and wipes at her eyes before she shakes her head and tries to focus on the task at hand. She sits down at the vanity and begins threading beads in her hair with trembling hands. Shortly afterward Suki arrives to help her into her robes. When she looks in the mirror, she stands tall and pulls her shoulders back, and with one final nod reminds herself that this is what she wants.
The ceremony is beautiful, and she is thrilled to share this moment with all of the friends and family members in attendance. Though he may be a grown man now, Aang's eyes light up when he sees her, and he grins like he did when they were young. When he lifts her veil away he whispers how beautiful she looks, and she blushes in earnest. When they speak their vows and promise to love and cherish each other, she means it. She does love Aang; that is the truth. And now that they are bound to each other, she only hopes that other truths will fade away, into the past where they belong.
The party afterward is filled with food and music and friends. She dances with her brother and her father, and even Haru and The Duke. But mostly she dances with Aang. When the tempo is quick and pounding, they laugh as they replicate the bending-inspired dance that they created during the war. When the tempo slows, he holds her close and they sway together on the dance floor. It is during one of these times that she catches Zuko watching her from the edge of the crowd, a soft smile on his lips. Her heart breaks a little at the sincerity on his face and the hint of pain she sees in his eyes. Aang spins her in a circle and the faces blur. When she scans the crowd afterward he is gone.
TBC...
