disclaimer. after all these years, it still don't belong to me folx
author's note. your enthusiastic feedback and insightful comments never fail to put a smile on my face, dear readers. thank you for being such lovely positive people. here, have another update.
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i give you...
southern lights
chapter xli. smoke signals
the cost of innocence is the loss of innocence
some may pass away, but some die screaming
when it came to my time, it took me by surprise
grace and lies lock the door from the other side
"leaving eden" / antimatter
The moon hangs high in the sky by the time Katara makes an appearance in the band chiefs' hall, half-heartedly donning the neatest dress she could find. She had little by way of finery and most of her clothing prioritized warmth over all else, but she had taken the time to carefully braid her hair and polish her mother's necklace until it gleamed brightly where it hung against her throat.
To be fair, Yue and Hahn's wedding feast felt less like an authentically happy occasion to celebrate and more like a desperate excuse to throw everyone together into a room for something other than arguing about politics or battle tactics.
For a start, Yue being given to Hahn in marriage should have earned her a funeral instead of a lavish party, in Katara's personal opinion.
Secondly, everyone in the room, ranging from Chief Arnook and his tenuous allies, to Hahn's circle of cronies, to Yue herself, appeared downright miserable. Which left General Iroh's troupe and the group of Air Nomads to linger awkwardly on the sidelines, too polite to leave early, but too aware of the dark cloud hovering over the room to risk having any actual fun.
Finally, the awkward party bore so little resemblance to any sort of celebration that Katara can remember. Where are the bonfires? she thinks to herself, frowning. Where are the singers, where's the dancing?
In fact, the strained artifice of her surroundings uncomfortably reminds her of another wedding not so long ago, which had been slapped together for similar reasons and catastrophically gone down in flames. The waxing moon in the sky pulls on her longingly, shifting currents through her blood in a tantalizing reminder of the force of her power when unleashed, now clamped down behind a fortified dam of social graces and propriety.
Katara ignores it, ignores the constant pounding frenzy rising in her chest like a storm at the sight of Zuko in his princely getup, standing tall and strong and dutiful by his uncle's side. Instead, after hastily choking out a lukewarm greeting to Chief Arnook and paying the newly-wedded couple her compliments, she makes a beeline for where the other Water Tribe women were gathered.
Unlike the young men, who seemed to be oblivious to the tension straining heavy in the air and found ways to make the most out of any opportunity with copious food and spirits, the girls packed themselves in a small corner of the room, as though afraid to take up any more space in the great hall. Bunik surrounded by her squad of young teenagers. Pregnant Aujak conversing with Ikkuma some way back, where she could cower behind Aujak's expanding girth, her long sleeves and trailing skirt concealing every last ugly bruise from sight. Ulva off to the side by herself, wearing her usual intimidating scowl.
The other housewives were gossiping some distance away as their young children whizzed around their legs. Nerrivik, thankfully, was not with them but wrapped up in a discussion with Chieftain Natok by the tiered dais at the front of the hall. To her surprise, even Yugoda and Ahnah were seated on the platform, just behind the band of chiefs and barely visible. A great honour, she reflects, a testament to their position in the tribe as revered wisewomen and master healers.
Her lip curls in distaste.
"Hi Katara," greets Shila as she draws near. "Having a good time?" She raises a tentative hand and giggles nervously, her olive skin flushing under the glittering blue light.
"Hi," Katara returns. "Um, I guess? I just got here."
"And just in time," Woka teases, nudging her in the ribs with an elbow. "Tartok looks particularly fine this evening, don't you think?" Light flashes off the silver hook set in her tongue as she speaks, glancing surreptitiously at the wide space in the middle of the room.
"Ugh." Blood rushes to Katara's cheeks as she follows Woka's gaze, already regretting the lie. She easily spots Tartok with mountainous Sangilak and his shrimpy pretty brother Imnek, helping themselves to the heaping platters of food and cups of steaming spirits set on tables propped up against the length of the side wall. "I'm not dignifying that with a response." Her stomach rumbles. She hadn't eaten properly since breakfast, too caught up in the emotional upheaval of Ikkuma's confession in the healing houses earlier that day. "Is anyone else hungry?"
"Starving," Woka admits, running a hand along the shaven side of her head. "But good luck not getting spat on while the guys are still helping themselves."
Privately, Katara wonders what damage she could inflict on someone with only a ball of spit. "I'm going to find my friends," she says shortly. "Save me a spot in line when it's time."
Woka raises her eyebrows but doesn't say anything else as Katara stalks off. She averts her gaze as she passes a group of the young Water Tribe warrior boys, and then a cluster of older men who follow her with suspicious eyes. Even if the party was the exact opposite of fun, it was still supposed to be Yue's night and Katara didn't want to cause any trouble if she could help it.
"Hey," she says, approaching the pair that she had sought out like a safe haven from her perch at the other side of the room.
Toph and Aang grin at her arrival, turning away from the small crowd of air acolytes surrounding them. "You made it, Sweetness!" Toph exclaims. "I was beginning to think you were never going to show up."
"I had a long day," Katara answers wearily, turning back to glance at Ikkuma on the other side of the room.
"Teaching more girls how to bloodbend?" Toph supplies, her grin widening. "Are you training a secret bloodbending army, Sugar Queen? That would be awesome if you were."
Katara chokes, Toph's comment rankling after the long day spent grappling with the aftermath of Ikkuma using bloodbending to fend off her drunken, abusive husband. "I don't really want to talk about it," she says stiffly.
Aang glances at her sympathetically. "Is everything okay?"
Katara opens her mouth, unsure of what to say. Because truth be told, nothing was okay, not for her and not for any of the women in her healing class. The unfairness of it all builds like the black storm in her chest, the raw power of her bending slowly becoming a distant memory and the tribe's strict conventions chipping away at her spirit in the shape of Ikkuma's bruises hidden under glossy perfect furs. And still struggling to fit in among her people while never feeling more cut off from them.
"I…" she stutters, faintly light-headed from her hunger and feeling like her skin wasn't enough to contain everything raging inside her all the time, "I don't think I know who I am anymore."
The words surprise her as much as they do everyone else. To her relief, Toph cocks her head at the air acolytes gawking next to Aang. "Mind grabbing another round of spirits for us?"
With a flutter of air, the acolytes vanish, leaving the three of them alone. Which is when Toph finally faces her squarely, her sightless eyes roving up to her face as though she could actually see her. "It's hard to believe you left us all for this." She waves vaguely at the great hall with its towering, tiered roof and waterfalls cascading along the perimeter of the room.
Katara exhales slowly, her shoulders ready to buckle under the weight of everything. "I know," she laments, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I thought it would be different. I thought it would be like coming home. But it's not even close!" The constant storm raging in her chest swells into a knot strangling the back of her throat. "Mom and Dad would never treat their people the way the band chiefs do here! Back home, we were all like family. We cared about people, valued them, wanted them to be happy! Nerrivik said they want the same for us here, but that's not true. All that matters here are their stupid rules!"
Toph's mouth tightens as Aang kicks uncomfortably at the ice. "That's awful, Katara," he says tentatively.
"It's fucked up," Toph agrees bluntly.
"It is," Katara agrees, overwhelmed with gratitude that at least someone else could see it, that she wasn't losing her mind, "but that's the way things are here, and that's not going to change. All the other women - spirits, Toph, Aang - if you heard their stories, what they've been through, and these are their lives." Her voices wobbles dangerously, her fingers now picking at the fur trim on her sleeves, plucking and twisting the hairs one by one. "None of them are complaining about how unfair this all is, and I'm one of them now. So why should it be any better for me?"
"Because you're Katara," Toph answers without hesitation, "and you didn't lie down and accept any bullshit when it was the Empire bastards handing it to you. Why should you start now? Just because the bastards are wearing a different colour?" She spits neatly on the ground, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Fuck that."
"Toph," Aang admonishes under his breath, nudging her with his elbow, "we've talked about spitting before, that's disgusting."
"I'll spit where I damn well like, Twinkletoes!"
A borderline hysterical laugh wells in Katara's throat. "You don't understand," she says desperately, "these are still my people. I have to find a way to belong here, otherwise what else do I have left?"
"You could always come back with us," Aang suggests, perfectly, maddeningly reasonably.
Katara scoffs, throwing a cutting glance at General Iroh where he stands near the ice steps, dressed in his military uniform. The glimmering blue light winks off the points of the flame-shaped crown lodged in his topknot. "I don't think so. I burned that bridge, there's no going back there for me."
"Grandpa misses you, Katara," Toph tries, "I'm sure if you apologized, he'd forget this ever happened in a heartbeat."
"I'm not apologizing to him," Katara mutters stubbornly. The crashing in her chest nearly overwhelms her. "My people may not be exactly the way I remember them, but at least they're my own. How could I leave them for the man who basically allowed the polar wars to happen?"
Toph groans loudly, pressing her fingers into her temples. But Aang grabs wildly at Katara's sleeve. "We're not going to argue with you, Katara," he says simply. "You're allowed to make your choices...even if it's hard for us to live with."
Katara swallows, too overcome for words at their support. Even after everything, even though they clearly didn't understand or agree with her choices, here they were, offering the warmth and understanding her own tribe refused to give her.
I miss you both. So much.
A crash echoing loudly across the room cuts through her thoughts. The three of them crane their heads curiously toward the doorway, where a stocky, positively livid Water Tribe man is barging into the room. The small crowds part before him like goldminnows fleeing from a tigershark in their midst.
"Whoever that is, they sound mad," Toph remarks under her breath as the angry man stomps past them, knocking a cup out of a passerby's hand and smashing it under his boot without missing a beat.
Katara and Aang nod mutely in unison.
By now, the entire room full of people has frozen in its paces, ogling the furious man as he marches up to the foot of the ice steps where the band chiefs and their children were all seated. His yells echo off the tiered ceilings, blending into an indecipherable cacophony of rage.
Katara frowns as the man points wildly at the top of the steps, flecks of spittle spraying from his mouth. Chieftain Keelut stands up hesitantly, obviously trying to calm him down. As though on cue, Tartok and Sangilak appear out of nowhere, instantly flanking the angry man with their intimidating bulk. Without a word, they grab him by the arms and force him to his knees, restraining him in place.
Somehow, by making the man yell into his knees instead of into the air, it becomes easier to hear Keelut's attempts to placate the man. "...understand that you're upset, Noatak, but your anger here will solve nothing." Katara's frown deepens as Keelut descends the single step to stand with feet planted directly in front of the restrained angry man. "Now, apologize to Hahn and Yue for interrupting their festivities, and then you will beg for mercy from the wisewomen you disrespected so."
"My apologies to the Princess and Hahn," the man called Noatak thunders for all to hear, "but I will not beg for mercy from those two old hags!"
To Katara's shock, he glares up at the top step, where Ahnah and Yugoda sit almost concealed behind the row of band chiefs on the step beneath them. "They don't deserve to be honoured or revered, Chieftain Keelut! They're traitors to our tribe, they've betrayed us all and I will drag them down from there with my bare hands if I have to -"
"Noatak," Keelut cuts him off in ringing tones. "This is a serious matter. You do yourself grave dishonour in front of the whole tribe, and the spirits too!"
"It's the spirits you should be worried about!" Noatak shouts, lunging forward so forcefully that Tartok nearly topples over. "Those two old crones pretend to be wise, but I see through their treachery! They don't fool me!"
"Take him out back," Keelut orders quietly. "Perhaps a night in the lockup will cool his head."
"Chieftain Keelut, you're making a mistake!" Noatak pleads desperately as Tartok wrenches his arm behind his back. "They turned my wife against me, they should be in the lockup, not me!"
Keelut smiles at him coldly. "If you believe two shriveled old women were enough to lose control of your woman, you have nothing but your own weakness to blame." He motions at his younger son before turning away.
Tartok and Sangilak manage to drag Noatak halfway across the room when he shrieks. "They taught her how to waterbend!"
Katara's breath turns to ice in her lungs. The sound of everyone in the room gasping in horror screeches loudly in her ears as she puts two and two together and finally realizes who Noatak's wife was.
She glances back to the corner of the room where the Water Tribe women were gathered, but Ikkuma's bright red hair was no longer visible, shielded by the crowd of bodies standing in front of her.
Chief Arnook rises to his feet, his face seeming as though it was carved from stone. "That is a most serious accusation, Noatak," he pronounces in ringing tones. "To levy such a charge against our two most revered wisewomen and healing masters? I certainly hope you have proof."
"Where else would she learn it?" Noatak barks, spittle frothing at the corners of his mouth. "My Ikkuma spends all her days at home or in the healing houses with the other women. Those two old witches led my virtuous wife astray, I swear on the spirits!"
"Chief Arnook, the man is unhinged," Yugoda says distastefully from her seat high atop the ice steps. "Ikkuma doesn't know how to waterbend, and neither do we."
"She lies!" Noatak screams. "First she teaches my wife how to waterbend and now she dares to lie about it!"
Arnook glares pitilessly at the man. "You may be kin to my future son-in-law's family, Noatak. But everyone in this Tribe knows you to be an uncontrollable drunk. What makes you think your wife knows how to waterbend?"
It becomes impossible for Katara to breathe at all as Noatak sits up, his eyes roving wildly across the room as though trying to seek out his wife himself. "She did something to me," he insists, "when I came back home late in the night. I don't know what it was. All I know was that one moment I was a man, master of my own home, and the next, I was wretched and powerless against the ground. My own body held outside my control by some twisted abomination. Women's waterbending."
"Chief Arnook," Yugoda says sharply, not taking her eyes off Noatak's sprawled form, "it sounds like this man came home drunk and laid hands on his wife as is his custom. And instead of admitting that the excess spirits have finally addled his body the way they did his senses, he chose to come to your hall, insult your guests and trample your hospitality, before plying us all with a story so absurd, its like has never been heard before."
"That's just what she wants you to think!" Noatak cries desperately. "You'd hardly expect her to admit it!"
"Your stories belong in a book of children's tales, Noatak. Not in these halls, and certainly not in an accusation against a revered elder of this tribe," Arnook says coldly. "You are a drunk, a delinquent, and a wife beater, if Yugoda speaks truly - which I have no cause to doubt. Women's waterbending? What does that even mean?"
"Chief Arnook." To Katara's chagrin, it is Hahn who speaks as he too rises to his feet. "I don't mean to be contrary, but wasn't Katara teaching the women some strange new bending to improve their healing?" Horror cascades down her stomach as Hahn plies her with a triumphant stare. "My mother raised concerns that it too closely resembled waterbending long before you and your daughter silenced them. But now we have it, right from Noatak's mouth." His expression hardens. "Katara of the Southern Water Tribe has been teaching our healers how to waterbend, and had the audacity to lie to all of us about it!"
Shock roots her to the spot as the outcry from the gathered tribesmen whips into a frenzy. But Hahn only seems to gain strength from the chaos as he continues, pointing an accusing finger at her. "From the day she came here, she has been trying to find ways to undermine our traditions. She has no respect for our tribe and she wasn't satisfied to leave it at that, but now she's even corrupting our women to think and act like her too!"
"Hahn," Yue says delicately, now also rising to her feet, "I saw what you're referring to with my own eyes. It wasn't waterbending. And both Master Yugoda and Ahnah tell me that they have never seen their apprentices advance so quickly in the healer's art until now."
"It's true," Yugoda echoes, as the fire curling inside Katara's chest flares dangerously. "Katara wouldn't have thought of teaching bloodbending if it wasn't for Ahnah and I. We saw it as a way to improve healing and we encouraged her."
Hahn stares down his nose at the old woman. "So you two are also to blame for this incident? Our revered wisewomen, held in respect by the whole tribe...colluding with an outsider to mislead our impressionable young women."
"That wasn't their intention, Hahn!" Yue pushes back, fighting to keep her voice level.
"Don't talk back to me, Yue! This wouldn't have happened if these old women hadn't encouraged a dangerous Southern outsider to teach our girls a skill they had no business learning!" Hahn snaps back. Katara's fingers dig into her palms as he barrels on, "What was wrong with the old way of healing? No need to fix something that was never broken, I say. From this moment, you women are forbidden from bloodbending. Do I make myself clear?"
A few small cries of protest from the back of the hall quickly muffle into a mutinous silence. It is barely enough for Katara to control her strangled breathing; her entire body trembles from the unfairness of it all. Bloodbending may have sprung from a dark legacy, but it was all she had left of her bending and he meant to take it away. All to protect a cowardly drunk man who, in Katara's opinion, probably deserved whatever Ikkuma had done to him.
Ahnah scowls but says nothing. Yugoda, fighting very hard to keep her face neutral, only nods her head stiffly.
"Very well." Wearing a look of satisfaction, Hahn turns around, his eyes locking on Katara. "And you, Katara of Sivusiktok. This is not the first time you've been brought before the chiefs for disregarding our culture. You know the consequences. Consider this your final warning. You will no longer teach bloodbending to the other apprentices. Do you understand?"
Katara's teeth clench in mounting fury. The weighted silence following Hahn's words grows increasingly tense, but she can't bring herself to speak. She glances at Yugoda and Ahnah, who had helped her overcome her own fear and guilt of being a bloodbender, now cowering haplessly before a self-righteous teenage jerk. At the crowd of girls at the back of the room, watching everything unfold with dismay. Bunik, who was stuck becoming a healer while her inept cousin was groomed for leadership just because he was a boy. Woka, who had never cared for healing until Katara's lessons had caught her interest. Ikkuma, who might not have escaped with only bruises if she hadn't known how to bloodbend…
"Well?" Hahn thunders, as she watches them in stubborn silence. "Answer me!"
Katara narrows her eyes at him as the word slips insolently out of her mouth. "No."
A few people in the hall actually gasp out loud. Satisfaction blazes through her as Hahn stares at her incredulously. "I beg your pardon?"
"I said no," Katara repeats, nearly giddy with the buzz of defiance overwhelming her in its rush. "I taught the other girls how to bloodbend. I made them better healers, and I gave Ikkuma the power to defend herself from her drunk coward of a husband." She tilts her chin upward. "And I am not sorry."
The outcry that follows is nearly deafening. Through the shocked mutterings and scandalized glances being thrown her way by most of the Water Tribe men, she manages to notice the very small, proud smile cracking across Yugoda's face. Something swells inside her, even as the band chiefs cry out for order and the commotion dies down to a hush.
Chief Arnook is the first to step toward her. "Now Katara," he says, holding his hands out entreatingly, "I know that tempers are...rather high and so you may have said more than you intended…" His eyes meet hers in mute appeal. "Is there anything else you would like to say? An apology, perhaps?"
"No," Katara repeats, now thoroughly incensed. "I will never, ever turn my back on people who need me!" She glares at him as his jaw drops in shock. "How about you and the rest of the chiefs apologize to the women of your tribe instead?"
"How dare you!" Hahn spits, pushing past Chief Arnook to march down the ice steps. The small crowd parts wordlessly in front of him. "We gave you a home and a purpose here, out of the goodness of our hearts. But Southerners like you will always act like degenerates! Your minds are too full of nonsense ideals to belong in our world."
"Hahn," Chief Arnook reproaches warningly, but Hahn swats him aside.
"It's just as my father said. Hakoda's ideas were too dangerous. We had to do something for the good of the tribes. We didn't tolerate them then, and we cannot tolerate them now."
Katara's blood boils at the mention of her father's name. "What do you mean, we had to do something?" she demands suspiciously.
"Hahn," Chief Arnook warns again, his voice rising sharply. Some of the other older chieftains suddenly appear agitated, even afraid, as Hahn barrels on, too caught up in his tirade to pay them any attention.
"It was Hakoda's insistence that we get involved with the Fire Empire. It was Hakoda's obstinacy to blunder forward with them, even after we warned him again and again not to treat with them!" He shakes his head emphatically. "Well, look how that turned out! The polar wars were an inevitability we predicted long before they became a reality, and we had a choice to make." His lip curls contemptuously. "Except it was no choice. The Southern tribe had no hope of surviving but we had our own people to protect."
Unbidden, hairline cracks split the polished ice tiles beneath her feet. The chiefs' great hall grows suddenly ice cold.
"All Ozai asked of us was that we keep to ourselves," Hahn crows, almost basking in the horrified silence gripping the entire room. "Stay out of the conflict, and our lands would be spared. The North was too far away from the Empire's homeland to be of any consequence to him. His real interest was in the South, and Hakoda had led them so far astray from the old ways, it seemed kinder to let them die."
"No," Katara whispers in a shaking voice. Everything sways alarmingly around her and she staggers. Someone's arm shoots out to steady her, and she barely feels it. "You're lying."
"Your father's so-called progress led his entire tribe into ruin. We've worked hard to protect our way of life here for many years. It's the reason our tribe is a beacon of civilization while the South Pole remains a smoking ruin." Hahn's jaw tightens uncompromisingly. "Do you think we're going to stand by and let you ruin us? All our hard work, all our sacrifices will have been for nothing!"
Katara feels like the ground beneath her is crumbling and she's falling into a dark pit of despair. Aang's fingers on her shoulder tighten, whether in warning or support, she doesn't know. She rips her gaze away from Hahn's face, searching the band chiefs for some sign, any sign that this was all a lie. Some of the younger chiefs appear shocked and confused, while others like Keelut and Natok school their expressions to careful neutrality.
But the guilt weighing heavy in the worn lines of Chief Arnook's face is a punch straight to the gut, saying more in an instant than all of Hahn's vicious babble combined had.
"So this is the truth you've been hiding," she croaks, feeling like she might be sick even as Chief Arnook averts his eyes, unable to look at her in his shame. "Your need for control was so powerful, you convinced yourselves that selling out your sister tribe to the Empire was the right thing to do. How could you?"
Her question hangs in the frigid air, splintering the shocked silence with the timbre of shattering earth.
"Chief Arnook." To Katara's outrage, it is General Iroh who has the audacity to speak, somehow appearing just as distressed as she herself feels. Next to him, Zuko's scarred face is a mask of cold fury. "This must be a misunderstanding. I was not aware of any conspiracy to spare the North. Your new son-in-law is very young and cannot have been more than a child himself when the polar wars happened. Surely...surely he must be mistaken?"
But Chief Arnook only hangs his head. His shoulders crumple, the deep purple chieftain's mantle suddenly seeming too heavy a burden.
"Father." Yue's quiet voice somehow manages to ring through the air commandingly. "Answer the General. Is this true?"
The tension weighs heavy in the air, so icy and thick that Katara feels like she might suffocate. Arnook remains still as a statue, staring shamefacedly at the ground between his feet.
"When Ozai's ultimatum arrived, I wanted to burn it." Arnook's voice is so small, it sounds like it could have belonged to a different man. "Few chiefs from that time remain among us. But I was not alone in my dissent. Whatever our difference of opinion, Hakoda was our brother." He raises his head and Katara feels her fury mount at the sight of tears trailing down his weathered cheeks. "How could we abandon him? How could we live with ourselves after looking the other way while our sister tribe burned?" But his face suddenly darkens as he turns to face the ice steps behind him, where the other band chiefs sit. "But I was overruled. Natok, Tupilek and the others… I have never stopped being ashamed, that I didn't do more to change their minds."
"We did what we had to for the sake of our tribe!" Hahn's father rebukes sharply, and Katara wants to vomit all over the pristine polished ice floor. "Do you think Aujuittuq and the rest of our cities would be in this state if we had joined our sister tribe in their headlong rush to destruction? You can shed tears for your unclean hands all you want, Arnook. Leading this tribe means making the hard choices to survive."
And that, Katara understands with a feeling like ice slowly gnawing away at her heart, was the real lie of it all.
The band chiefs had deluded themselves into believing the Southern tribe had brought their destruction upon themselves, and that their adherence to the old traditions was what had saved them. Never mind that Ozai's interest in the South only stemmed from his twisted obsession with her mother. Never mind that he had probably never cared about the Northern tribe or even known that it existed. The Northern chiefs bought the lie so convincingly that they believed it was about survival when in reality it was about ensuring absolute control at the expense of all else.
"That's why you got rid of Sokka," Yue breathes, her disgust plain in her voice. "I always thought it was because you feared his bravery. But it's who he was that frightened you more." Her face scrunches in distaste. "As Hakoda's son, he must have represented an existential threat to you all. But he didn't cave quietly to your demands the way Katara did. And you had already sacrificed our sister tribe, what was one more boy?"
"Sokka was a rabble rouser who wanted to draw us into direct conflict with the Empire!" Hahn snaps. The cold feeling in Katara's chest seems to spread throughout her entire body until she can't feel anything at all. "Sending him away was the right decision for the tribe. Otherwise we would have followed him into a fool's errand. He probably got himself killed off, and good riddance too!"
Katara isn't aware of moving at all, only that the people in her way scream and flee as Hahn and the band chiefs grow closer. "Don't talk about my brother that way."
"I'll talk about him however I want," Hahn retorts, drawing himself up to his full height as he stares down his nose at her. "What could you possibly do about it? Remember, I will lead the tribe, little girl, and you are on very thin ice!"
Katara stares at him blankly, his taunt ringing in her ears like a keen blade against stone. He thought he had her backed into a corner with no family, no allies, and no bending. He thought she was a good, obedient, submissive woman of the tribe who would, as Yue said, cave quietly to his demands.
To hell with that.
The triumphant smile still lingers on Hahn's face as the thick jet of water smashes into his chest. He sails through the air and crashes bodily against the platform behind him.
Cries of fear and shock ripple through the air as the band chiefs scramble to their feet. Some leap off the ice steps, in an effort to evade her blows.
"Whoops," Katara hears herself say flippantly. "Guess I lost control of my bending. I can't seem to help it. I'm inherently dangerous after all, being Hakoda's daughter. You should really be more careful around me. You just never know when I'll snap."
Hahn struggles to his feet, gaping in shock. A rumbling sound echoes as the crystalline tiles beneath his feet split. Thick prongs of ice burst upward, launching him through the air to smash into the tables lining the other side of the room. The crash is deafening as food and broken dishes tumble to the ground and drinks spill everywhere.
"Katara," Chief Arnook begs as everyone in her vicinity screams and stampedes away. "I know you must be upset, but this is going too far. You know waterbending is forbidden -"
"Oh?" Katara cuts him off, standing squarely in the middle of the emptied hall, facing the ice steps and the small handful of chiefs remaining on it. "Forbidden by who? By the spirits or by you? Because if it's so forbidden, surely something terrible must happen if I do this."
With a jerk of her wrists, the ice steps suddenly become smooth, sending all the remaining chiefs sliding down its surface to crumple into a pile on the ground below. She turns on her heel and one of the giant carved pillars at the corner of the room collapses. It topples over, and the remaining people hiding in the corners shriek as they dash out of its way. The room sways as it hits the ground and shatters, shards of ice whizzing through the air in a violent spray.
"Hey look! I'm still standing," Katara grits out in a loud, falsely bright voice at the chiefs still groaning in a heap. "Guess that wasn't forbidden enough for the spirits to strike me down. I know! Maybe they'll get mad if I do this!"
With an almighty wrench, a fissure cracks along the middle of the ceiling. Chunks of ice rain down, sending people out the doors and fleeing into the night for safety. One by one, the roof tiles smash into the ground, turning the chiefs' hall into a rubble-strewn wreck. Everything turns suddenly unbearably cold as the chill night wind batters them with its frigid bite.
"Nope! Still no spirits!" she calls in her falsely bright voice. The apoplectic shock painted on Chief Arnook's face only goads her further. "So why is it forbidden for women to waterbend? Selling your sister tribe out to the Empire was fine, but me bending? That's the line your precious spirits won't cross? Well, where are they now?"
In a corner of the room, Hahn slowly sits up amid the wreckage of the table, groaning loudly as he clutches at his ribs. "Stop her," he commands weakly, his face contorting with pain. "Don't just stand there, stop her!"
Out of the corner of her eye, Tartok leaps into the fray. The water gurgling in the moat wrapping around the periphery of the hall rears upward, looping in a thick jet before barreling toward her.
She redirects it lazily. It orbits her harmlessly before splintering the ground in a shining ring of sharp-edged scythes.
With a flick of her wrists, the sharp blades fly through the air, narrowly missing Tartok's vitals and pinning him to the nearest fallen pillar by the excess fabric of his parka. From across the room, she sees him gulp as one blade contemptuously grazes the skin of his throat, close enough to freeze but not enough to draw blood.
Then the ground beneath her shakes with the weight of another warrior's approach. She turns around to see Sangilak towering over her, bending a huge chunk of ice twice his size through the air until it hovers threateningly above her head.
She watches as it starts to fall as though in slow motion. Throws her hands up and pushes back, straining with the sheer weight of it. Across from her, Sangilak's face is impassive as he holds his hand outstretched toward her. He doesn't move a muscle.
Her knees buckle under the sheer strength of his onslaught as the ice falls freely. Gritting her teeth, she deforms it into a wave and it splashes harmlessly in front of her. With a spiral kick that would have impressed a firebender, it charges toward Sangilak, drenching him even as it freezes solid, trapping him bodily in its icy grip.
"This must be a joke!" Hahn croaks, swaying unsteadily on his feet in the corner of her eye. "Master Cotto, Master Higalik, anybody! Put this Southern upstart in her place!"
The wind rushes in through the broken ceiling opening up to the heavens. It howls and whips to a frenzy, threatening to freeze everybody with its icy breath.
Katara watches the two grim-faced masters approaching her from either side of the room. Their white braids sway with every step they take, rifling with the force of the gusting night wind. Even from a distance, she watches their mouths curl in distaste as their hands move in unison and they assume an offensive stance.
Her breath puffs around her in thick white clouds. Her body shifts into a stance of its own as the pair of old masters leap into action. The ice rubble lining the floor leaps upward, charging toward her.
She lunges, turning it into a whirlpool that wheels and breaks against her opponents. In a trice, the whirling water funnel freezes into a column before collapsing into a giant wave. It rushes toward her with the force of a tsunami.
She roots her stance the way Toph would. Ice wraps around her ankles as the water towers over her. Then it comes crashing down and she splits the wave. In the blink of an eye it ripples past her harmlessly. A twist of her arms and the water twines around her shoulders in two sleeves that span the breadth of the hall's wreckage.
One of the old masters rushes toward her on a skidding ice floe and she bowls him over with a backhand. He tumbles along the ground, head over heels until he stops with a sickening crunch against a pile of rubble.
The other master pulls up a pillar of ice and hurls sharp ice discs toward her. They shred the rippling water sleeves into puddles of water and nearly slice off a wayward strand of hair.
"Tartok, Sangilak! Get up and give Master Cotto a hand!" Hahn cries. "Imnek! Unnuk! Go help the others! Poallu, Jukka, stop lazing about and get in there!"
Katara grits her teeth, dodging another ice disc. A handful of Water Tribe warriors surround her. Her breath mists heavily as she scans them. Tartok with his shredded parka, Sangilak sporting a fresh frostburn along his chin, another guy with a tooth dangling from his ear. Dark pretty Imnek, the object of Shila's affections, helping one of the old masters to his feet, and Jukka. Tall gangly Jukka who she had even thought of as a friend, now stands against her, just like the rest of the Northerners.
Her eyes narrow at him as he stares at her pleadingly. "Come on, Katara," he says in a strained voice. "Let it go. You can't win this fight."
She scoffs, even as the others close in around her. "I single-handedly defeated Ozai and clawed my way out of his heavily armed capital. You think I can't beat a bunch of puffed-up guppyshrimps like you?"
The water lying in a limp puddle at her feet springs up around her in a multitude of thrashing liquid tentacles. They snap menacingly at the men, pushing them back.
Then they attack with surprising speed in unison.
In spite of the cold numbness lending detached precision to her movements, it's all she can do to keep up. Fighting hordes of Dai Li and firebenders were familiar to her, but she had never defended against so many waterbenders, trained warriors and masters.
The groan of ice shifting back and forth fills her ears. The crashing of water as it arcs through the air, the crack as it snaps and whistles and smashes into bodies. The thuds and cries of pain as men fall to the ground, sliding across the rubble-littered ice. Her own limbs are lined with dozens of burns and cuts, which she registers only as a mild sensation. Adrenaline roars in her veins as she cuts through the incoming salvo and pummels her opponents into the ground.
A rope of water hooks around her elbow, yanking her to her knees even as another one traps her ankle and freezes it in place. She growls, struggling to tug free even as more ice springs up to bury her other leg and someone behind her grabs at her braid.
Pain erupts along the back of her head and she yelps. The grip on her hair tightens ruthlessly. Through the watering of her eyes, she sees Sangilak and one of the old masters scramble onto their feet, moving steadily closer with grim purpose etched onto their sweaty faces. Blood dribbles from a gash on Sangilak's forehead, and the old man has a new limp.
The person behind her wrenches at her braid, trying to pull her down to the ground. The ice entrapping her legs burns with cold fire through the cloth of her parka. The water restraining her elbow tightens, threatening to snap it out of place as she slumps over, her movements awkward and twisted.
Somehow, without even thinking about it, she shifts into the hunched stance that after weeks of morning healing lessons have become second nature to her. The two waterbenders who remain standing charge toward her, sweeping into the familiar bending forms. She watches them as though in slow motion, her senses hyper aware of the blood racing beneath their skin.
Where there's life, there's water. Her fingers twist sharply downward.
The two men freeze midway through their motions, their water splashing harmlessly to the ground. A dull pain throbs in her temple as the blood thrashes against her grasp with the force of a grown man's protests. She twists and holds tightly, her own pulse hammering loudly in her ears. The sickening thrill of domination rises like bile in the back of her throat as the fight in her prey begins to flag.
Someone shouts something unintelligible in the distance. The grip on her hair disappears and she jerks forward. Footsteps pound toward her.
Then someone grabs her by the shoulders, trying to wrench her free. She tries to shake them off half-heartedly but another joins, and then another. The icy restraints holding her down shatter suddenly, and she heaves as warmth and sensation return to her legs.
The wind shrieks deafeningly in her ears, its breath a bloodcurdling chill along her skin. The shouting voice grows closer, louder, until she can finally understand it.
"Katara," it yells in a panic with Zuko's voice, "Katara, stop!"
She stills, panting with exertion, before letting go with a gasp. Across the room, both her opponents collapse to the ground. Her skin is cold and clammy with sweat, and the inside of her skull pounds with a dull ache.
Shoulders rising and falling with the force of her breathing, she stares blankly at the wreckage before her. The great hall lies in ruins, its ornately carved pillars and ceiling caved in and pounded to smithereens. Gauges rake across the polished tile as though it was littered with yawning sharp teeth. And strewn haphazardly across it are a handful of groaning men motionless and facedown upon the ice.
Somewhere through the fog coating her senses, a pang of remorse manages to strike in her chest. "I did that?" she asks numbly.
Toph lets out a snort as she hooks one of Katara's arms around her shoulder and helps her back up. "Don't sound so surprised, Sweetness."
"Are you okay?" inquires Aang, white-faced and tight-lipped as he supports her other arm.
"She's fine, Twinkletoes. The guys, on the other hand, sound way less fine."
"I can't believe him," Zuko mutters darkly under his breath. She catches him scowling in the corner of her eye. "Setting all those men on you after everything he said. What did Hahn think was going to happen?"
"Enough!"
Hahn's shout echoes around the destroyed hall, making the insides of Katara's head hurt even more. She wrenches her gaze away from the chaos back to where Hahn limps furiously toward her, clutching gingerly at his ribs.
Toph instinctively tightens her grip on Katara's shoulder. Without exchanging a word, Aang and Zuko step forward, placing themselves bodily between Katara and the furious young chieftain hobbling toward her, his face a twisted mask of fury.
"We will not tolerate this Southern barbarity here!" he yells, spittle flying from his mouth in tiny droplets. He tries to push past the pair blocking his path, but Zuko places a firm hand on his arm, arresting his progress.
"That's enough," he says coldly. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it from here."
Or else, warns the pointed silence trailing in his wake.
Hahn opens his mouth to say something hotly, but Zuko steps closer, the scowl on his face twisting his scar into a terrifying mask. His hand crushes tighter against Hahn's arm. Cowed, Hahn shakes him off and backs away, colour rising in his pallid cheeks.
"If she wishes to remain here, she will do so in observance of our culture and traditions," he says with a calm forced through gritted teeth. "Otherwise she's welcome to return to her place among your ranks, since she clearly has more respect for the Fire Empire than her own people!"
Katara flinches at the insinuation as Hahn gives her a dirty look. "Do you understand? It's over, Katara. For you and all the apprentices."
He speaks to her with slow contempt, as though he was speaking to a child. Through the myriad complaints lining her aching body, the battered remains of the great hall surrounding her, and the presence of three people who would stand by her side no matter what, Katara snatches at the last spark of her defiance and raises her head. "No," she answers, refusing to give in. I will never make that mistake again. "It's not over."
She stares daggers at him unblinking, until he finally spits at the ground between her feet and limps away.
Traitor, he might as well have called her. Outcast.
"Good riddance," Toph remarks, her grip on Katara's shoulder relaxing. "C'mon Sweetness, let's get out of here."
"I don't think that'll go over well with the rest of the Northern chiefs, Zuko," Aang mutters, glancing nervously at Hahn's retreating back. "They might see it as you taking sides."
"I don't care," Zuko fumes, exhaling a cloud of smoke through his nose. "Hahn has all the diplomatic skill of a keg of blasting jelly. Someone had to say something."
Her friends' words wash over her like waves pounding at driftwood, uprooted from its home and lost at sea in an eternal aimless wander. She tears her gaze away from the destruction surrounding her to the pile of band chiefs groaning and struggling to get to their feet, clutching at broken bones and their lined faces contorted in obvious pain. Guilt pools in her gut as they cast fleeting glances in her direction, at once fearful and full of hate.
Not hate, she thinks numbly as they avert their gazes, shuddering. Disgust.
It could not have been clearer in that moment that there was not a place she belonged less than where she stood.
"Katara, where are you going?" Aang's voice rings out behind her and then fades as night swallows her. Outside the wrecked chiefs' hall, the crystal city stretches out before her, its ethereal white glow now seeming scarred and tainted with blood.
But the carnage behind her and the dark truth of the North's flawless facade were too much for her to bear. It renders the chill of the air intolerable, shrinking the magnificent city until it clamps down on her like an airless tomb.
Or the jaws of a relentless predator.
She isn't aware of waterbending at all, only vaguely hears the splash of water ricocheting through her ears as she leaps into the canal. Beneath her feet, its surface hardens to ice, somehow bearing her weight when every part of her felt leaden, even her thoughts.
But her hands move as though they had a mind of their own. Without a second thought, she flees.
Somehow, she finds herself in the oasis outside the city, the wounds in her spirit instinctively gravitating toward it. Yue had said it was a place of spiritual energy and healing; perhaps it called her to it in its own way, and something inside her had answered.
Her parka lies crumpled behind her in the grass; in the surprising heat of the oasis, sweat beads along her skin like dewdrops. She stares unseeingly into the small pond at its heart, the motions of its two koi fish lulling her into a listless trance.
She doesn't know how long she sits there in a silent torpor. Everything weighed down heavy on her, but the sound of wind rifling through grass and rushing water somehow absorbed the shock, shielding her from its cutting blows.
It whirls together like the waves in the pond, each with distinct origins but fueling the ones that came after. Coalescing together in a ripple that stretched far further than any individual could on its own, until it became impossible to glean where it had all started.
Was it Ozai's obsession with claiming a lost prize he viewed as his? Was it Iroh, who had kindled the fire, empowered him, and then turned away until it was too late? Was it the entire Northern tribe, who had turned their backs on their sister tribe, whether for survival or moral superiority, or a combination of the two? Or did the fault lie with her own parents, for daring to dream of more?
Was it her brother for abandoning her to the colonial schools? Jet, for using what little she had to offer in exchange for safety and secrets? Or Hama, the first Southern waterbender to walk free after the wars, for burdening her with such a dark legacy? One that had saved her, allowed her to exact revenge on Ozai but left its scars etched so deep that she hadn't known how to face them until Yugoda had found a way for her to heal.
And what of herself? For she wasn't blameless either, so lost in her own despair at the secrets Ozai had arrogantly unveiled that she lashed out at all those she feared to trust again. Burning bridges with Iroh, who despite it all was still trying to treat with the Northern chiefs as though they were his equals. Yet the thought of forgiving him still left a sick feeling in her stomach.
Even her own people shunned her. Both paths seemed to lead nowhere, either asking her to forgive too many faults or make impossible sacrifices. One asked her to bury herself in a tomb of stifling cultural traditions, the other asked her to become a traitor to her own kind.
"I just feel so lost," she whispers into the night, unsure who heard her. Whether the water, the air, or the koi fish entwined in their serene dance, bore witness to her confusion.
Then, out of nowhere, a small voice answers. "You're not alone."
Katara closes her eyes as the princess makes her way to her side and settles down beside her. Somehow, she should have known that Yue would be waiting here, as unobtrusive as a shadow. It felt right in a way that she couldn't explain.
Yue unclasps the heavy purple cloak hanging heavy around her neck, baring her wedding finery to the air. Katara examines it with growing guilt. "I'm sorry," she apologizes hoarsely. "I didn't mean to ruin your wedding feast."
But the princess only smiles ruefully. "It wasn't my wedding feast," she corrects. "It was Hahn's, and my father's, and maybe everyone else's in the tribe. But not mine." Tilting her head, Yue's smile turns playful. "Come to think of it, you don't have a great track record at weddings, do you?"
The sound of Katara's own laughter takes her by surprise. After everything that weighed on her, she didn't think she was capable of it. "I guess not," she admits, shaking her head. "They all seem to end in bloodbending and disaster."
"It's not your fault," Yue says sharply. "The fault lies with my father, and Natok, and all the other band chiefs who chose to sell their souls rather than fight for the right thing." Her mouth presses into a thin line. "And with Hahn, for taunting you with it and provoking you into a fight."
"I didn't mean to do it," Katara apologizes hollowly. "I was just so...so…"
"Angry?"
"Worse!" Katara turns to face Yue in growing despair. "It's like Lu Ten's wedding all over again. I had Ozai in my grasp, and there were so many ways I could have ended it. But I chose bloodbending and destruction, again and again." She hangs her head, staring blankly at the grass. "What does that say about me? Am I no better? This cycle of violence and betrayal goes so far back, on all sides. Is it inescapable? Are we all doomed to follow it? Every time I think I can be different, or find a better way, it sucks me back in!"
Yue watches her with sad, serene eyes as Katara's fingers work helplessly into her hair. "I had a chance to turn away from it all. Stay with my friends, see the Avatar project through, even if it was Iroh's idea. But I turned away from it, and now it's all falling apart." Her mouth twists into a scornful grimace. "All because I couldn't break away from the pattern. No wonder I feel so angry and helpless all the time. When push comes to shove, I'm no better than Iroh, or your dad, or Hahn. Not where it counts."
The cold north wind howls against the frozen arctic planes overhead, but down in the shelter of spirit oasis, it becomes a tender warm breeze gently brushing against her skin and punctuating the silence that settles over them.
At length, Yue speaks again. "All my life, I've been trapped by duty. To my father, to my people, to my culture. All for the crime of not being the son they wanted. I didn't think anyone could escape it, so I never tried, even if it felt unfair. It was just the way of things. Even all the Southern refugees we took in didn't fight it. They were just so grateful to be safe. All except one." Guilt weighs heavy in her voice as she continues raggedly. "Sokka was the first person who ever gave me hope that things could change. He was the first person to push back against the chiefs, question why things were the way they were here. I always suspected the worst, but hearing my father admit it…"
"I'm sorry, Yue," Katara says quietly as the princess's voice breaks off. "It must have been a betrayal for you to hear it, too."
But the princess only shakes her head. "You don't understand. Katara, in all my life, no one ever fought for the women of our tribe until you. You stood in front of the whole tribe and swore you would never stop fighting for us, and then you proved that you wouldn't be stopped in the only language that men ever seem to understand or respect."
"Respect?" Katara huffs scornfully. "They don't respect me, they hate me! I don't think I could have done anything more to cement my place as an outcast here."
"That's not true." Yue's voice drops to a hush, even though they are both entirely alone. "I helped lead the women to safety. I heard them speaking among themselves. You'd be surprised at how many were touched by your words. Nobody has ever seen anyone bend with that kind of mastery, let alone a woman." Her eyes burn with an intensity Katara has never seen before. "I don't think you realize just how many people you inspired."
"Well, they shouldn't be," Katara says bitterly. "Look where it got me. Forbidden from bloodbending and shunned by the tribe. I don't want to think about how much trouble I'm in. Hahn's probably thinking up a suitable punishment as we speak."
"He is," Yue sighs. "But bloodbending...you defeated Ozai with it, didn't you?"
Katara nods grimly as she thinks of that night, etched like flint in her mind. "Yes. I defeated him with the techniques I taught the girls in the healing huts."
Yue is quiet for a moment longer, wrestling with something within herself until she can hold it in no longer. "Our women deserve more," she says at last, staring heavily at the pond and the sinuous movements of the koi fish. "They deserve a chance to fight for their paths the way you did, rather than submitting to a group of old men so afraid of change that they would rather sell their own siblings to the enemy!"
Katara is surprised by the vehemence that enters Yue's voice as her fingers twist into the grass helplessly. "I know I'm fragile and sickly and can't do much on my own, Katara, but I know so many who want more from their lives, just like you. If I could just find a way, somehow…"
Yue trails off, lines etching in her smooth face as she thinks hard about something. To Katara, it feels like both an eternity and no time at all had passed before the princess dares to speak again.
"If I could round the women up somehow, out of sight somewhere...would you teach them too?" Her throat bobs as she swallows nervously. "Not just bloodbending masquerading as healing. It's time we took our fate into our own hands. Would you teach them, Katara? How to waterbend?"
Katara's heart pounds with the force of gravity weighing down on her, an undeniable pull toward a purpose unknown to her until its inevitable unveiling with Yue's halting question dangling in the serene oasis air, tempting at once with its danger and its potential.
What Yue suggested wasn't just a demonstration of brute force unleashed against the elders. It was blasphemy in the eyes of the Northern Water Tribe. And Katara was already dreading the punishment that awaited her in the morning. If this was discovered by the wrong person, seen by the wrong eyes, the chiefs wouldn't hesitate to cut her off entirely, or worse. To say nothing of what would happen to any other women who dared to cast aside the tribe's rules and join her.
In short, what Yue asked of her was no less than madness. It could only lead to disaster.
And yet Katara holds her tentative gaze, something rearing in her with the blaze of defiance, and something more, something indescribable. Something like after months of stumbling lost in the quagmire of her confusion and rage, she had finally found her path again. One that surprised her, but felt solid in her hands and couldn't be denied.
A purpose beyond herself.
"Yes," she decides with a firm nod of her head. "I will."
Yue smiles in secret triumph. The sounds of their discussion muffles into the gentle oasis breeze and the swish of the koi fish in the pond, swaying in an eternal dance of light and dark in perfect balance.
