A/N: This was written as a pinch hit for yearning-hours in the 2020 Atla Secret Santa. Originally posted on AO3 on December 25, 2020.
The Crane Wife is a pretty well-known Japanese folktale in which a man rescues an injured crane. Then a woman appears and introduces herself as his wife and he's like… okay, but I'm super poor. But she magically produces this beautiful fabric that he sells for a lot of money, so they don't have to worry about that. He gets curious so he peeks in the room where she made him promise not to look and sees that she is the crane plucking her feathers to weave into the cloth. Since he knows her secret now, she flies away and leaves him forever. The crane in the story is the red-crowned crane, Grus japonensis, known for its great height and wingspan and distinct red markings. This isn't actually the origin of the Kyoshi warriors' makeup palette, which started from Avatar Kyoshi's Flying Opera Company in the Kyoshi novels, but, oh well; it's very striking.
AO3 contains a version of this fic with clickable footnotes in the text; unfortunately FFN does not allow for these links, so you will have to navigate to the end to see the relevant footnote.
"Oh, no thank you, I'm a vegetarian."
Suki looks up in time to notice Aang declining a serving from the Northern Water Tribe princess. Sokka and Katara don't comment, presumably busy tucking into whatever meat-laden dish was just offered. Well, he's young; he hasn't yet had enough opportunity to rub shoulders with high society to know that turning down even the slightest invitation can be a fatal faux paus. Suki's got to look out for him in that regard.
The princess doesn't seem insulted, though; instead, she turns to offer the dish to Suki. With a charm like hers, who could say no? Then, she sees what it is.
"Turtleduck, imported from the south. It's very flavorful," Yue promises.
"… sorry, I don't eat waterfowl." Suki hastily makes excuses. "I… I'm allergic."
"Really? I've never heard of someone with a waterfowl allergy; it's usually—" Sokka exclaims, but Katara prods him to shut up.
"So, Suki," Yue begins awkwardly, hoping to resume the threads of a normal conversation. "How did you meet Aang, Katara, and Sokka? I gather that you weren't at the South Pole when everything first happened."
Ah, safe territory. She starts to explain about how she and her warriors happened upon a trio of intruders and apprehended them, ending with Zuko attacking the village.
"After that, it took us a couple months to get everything fixed up, but it's nothing we haven't managed before," she says casually. Yue's impressed attention isn't lost on Sokka.
"You know, I trained to be a Kyoshi warrior too." He puffs his chest out proudly and sucks in a deep breath, prepared to declaim his accomplishments to the table. This backfires spectacularly as he aspirates on some food particles. Much coughing ensues.
"Yeah, I wore the whole outfit and everything," he manages through a convulsive fit, and Katara pats his back indulgently, biting back a smile at the tears straining his voice. He gestures at Suki's armor and makeup. "Good times."
"What happened afterwards?" Yue asks, as if there had been no interruption.
"Oh, I caught up to them a few weeks ago. I had a feeling I shouldn't leave them to their own devices."
"Eh, we were managing okay on our own," Sokka dismisses.
"Oh really? Do enlighten us, then." Katara, ever eager to poke holes in her brother's papier-mâché ego, butts in and proceeds to list exactly how crucial Suki's aid was when they were combating an honest-to-god volcano in Makapu; and the foul shirshu beast that that bounty hunter used to track them down; and the likes of Admiral Zhao, not to mention an entire battalion of Fire Nation tanks in assault against the Northern Air Temple. If it weren't so cold, Suki would be blushing. Princess Yue listens, enchanted: Katara really is the best wing lady.
"People who live in ice houses shouldn't roast other people, but between your sharp tongue and waterbending skills, I'd say you've earned that right," she remarks when they're done listening to Katara sing her praises (1). Sokka looks very deflated.
Since when did Suki get to be such a smooth talker? Katara reflects. She watches Yue grow more and more taken with Suki over the course of the meal (and Sokka growing proportionally more despondent). But that thick parka hides the same thing that encircles Katara's throat, and Yue's just turned sixteen. Well, best that nothing ever comes of it. She gets the sense that the usual rules don't apply with Suki, anyways.
It's a few moments before sunset, the day after Aang feeds Sokka and Katara frozen frogs, and Katara's sitting in the back of the saddle when she sees it: a beautiful, giant cranefish with red eye markings and a long, white neck (2). Its wings must span at least seven feet.
"Look! Isn't it gorgeous?" She points it out to the others, but Aang is bouncing walnuts in little mini air tornados for Momo to play with, and Sokka seems less than enthused.
"Eh, it's huge, but it's not that pretty," he dismisses. "What's with those freaky necks, anyway?"
Katara's about to remark how familiar the bird's color patterns look, but holds her tongue. Could it be that Sokka hasn't made the connection?
Suki finds them outside Aunt Wu's place the next day, and Sokka makes no mention of the cranefish. "How did you catch up to us so fast? It took us months to get here after we left Kyoshi Island, and we were on Appa," he puzzles.
She glances over at Katara and winks. To Sokka, she shrugs nonchalantly. "A Kyoshi warrior has her ways," is all she says.
Alright then. This can be their little secret.
Yue leaves Sokka forlornly on the bridge, having explained about her engagement. His disappointment is palpable, but he has the emotional wherewithal to not push the matter, thank the spirits. If his position and Hahn's were reversed, she doubts her current fiancé would be so mature about it.
There's a lovely pool not far from here, and she decides to walk. It's the new moon tonight, and the only light that guides her are numerous natural ice crystals set in brackets at intervals along the canals, their mild gleam cloaking the world in mystery. Her guards will be following in the shadows where she can't see, but she knows they're there.
The Reflecting Pool glistens softly from afar, a serene pond situated amid a grand courtyard. It's about three stone throws in diameter, but Yue wouldn't know. Princesses don't throw stones.
Another bridge crosses from the bank to a small island in the middle of the pool. On still nights, the bridge's reflection in the water joins its physical structure to form a seamless circle, a perfect reflection of the full moon. But tonight is not such a night. For one, the new moon. And two, a large bird stoops at the base of the bridge where it reaches the lonely island. Its hunched form disturbs the bridge's perfect symmetry, and its inquisitive regard for the unbroken surface of the pond suggests it is hunting for a meal.
She draws closer, the bird unaware of her presence, and steps onto the bridge. These waters are sacred, and any feast it finds here will be its last. She leans over the edge, intending to shoo it away. The bird is extraordinarily tall, black wings shading a white body, and its long neck arches towards the shallows. A patch of scales crisscrosses its back—a cranefish? A very lost one, if her memories of perusing her father's library are correct. Normally they live far to the south. She doesn't remember what the tome said about their diet, but maybe they like seal jerky?
The cranefish looks up as she coos to it, dangling a treat down towards it. "This is much yummier than fish, I promise."
It seems skeptical, large eyes lined by black and red stripes gleaming up at her. "Well, not really," she amends. "But you can't eat the fish from this pool. Anywhere else is fine, but not this one."
The cranefish clacks its beak loudly as if pouting in frustration at its thwarted meal, and Yue stifles a laugh at this unexpected humanity. "Here you go, then."
She holds her breath as it beats its broad wings the short distance to capture its prize and then settles back down to eat. She wants to come closer, but she knows that if the animal startles and lashes out at her, it will be shot dead before it can fly away. No creature may bring harm to a princess, no matter how beautiful.
"Wasn't it tasty?" she calls when it's finished. In response, it flies away, covering her in a drizzle of droplets.
Perhaps it'll come back for more tomorrow night. She descends from the bridge, the lighthearted moment evaporating like mist. "Time to go home," she supposes to no one.
Heading towards the nearest canal, she knows a boat and familiar boatman will automatically melt out of the shadows within seconds, as if there just happened to be a gondola for hire this late at night. The reality is rather dreary; hidden guards track her steps at all hours of the day from the alleys and rooftops, making sure no one disturbs the princess's safety. This is the only time she sees them up close, though. Such is her life, confined in a terrarium of ice, the boundaries limitless until she runs up against an invisible barrier. Over time, she stopped trying.
The person she expects is not waiting for her, though. Instead of a courteously tight-lipped member of her security detail, by her gondola stands Suki. It's strange: her armor and bearing should shine harsh and defiant under the light of the ice crystals, bleaching her pale and cold. But she looks quite the opposite of unflattering. Something about her suggests the ethereal, mysterious and grasping, and Yue can't look away.
"Your father agreed to let me join your guard on a provisional basis, since I've nothing else to do while Aang's learning waterbending." Suki extends a hand to help her into the boat. "It took some persuasion on Aang's part, and Pakku finally accepting Katara as his pupil might have helped set a new precedent. It also helps that I managed to defeat every one of your current guards in one-on-one, unarmed combat trials today."
It's the intensity of her eyes, Yue decides, dark and red stripes trailing away from passionate eyes that speak of boundless determination to protect her homeland, her friends, the weak and defenseless, the lonely and friendless: all those things that are dearest to herself. And Yue longs to count herself among that number.
"I'm glad." She steps into the boat, immediately mourning the loss of Suki's strong grip. The boat glides into motion, smoothly navigated with a long oar instead of waterbending.
"Back to the palace?"
"I suppose." Yue sighs out a misty, disgruntled breath at the mention of their destination.
"You don't sound pleased about your curfew. Have your guards ever actually enforced it?"
"A few times." She bristles a little at the insinuation that she's a docile, complacent princess. "Whenever I'm out late or go somewhere my father deems too dangerous, my path mysteriously becomes full of obstacles. Sometimes I'll want to visit my friends working in the healing huts next to the armory, but if the warriors are in training at the armory that day, I'll find that the main bridge has formed spiked crystals, rendering it impassable. Or I'll head towards the memorial of Avatar Kuruk just outside of town and find my path blocked by a herd of mail yaks that escaped from the post house. Anything with even slightly conceivable danger is off-limits."
She knows it must sound incredulous to Suki, who lives a life of rugged adventure and worldly travels. Yue has never even left the city of Agna Quel'a, and she doesn't expect to in this lifetime.
"No one will ever say 'no' to my face, but then again, I never see my guards. My father likes for me to feel as if I'm not constantly under surveillance. As if I could ever lead a normal life as a princess."
Suki hrm's thoughtfully. "Don't turn your head, but once we pass that wolf statue, look sharply to the upper right corner of your field of vision, and you'll see one of them."
To Yue's surprise, she's right. One dark figure detaches itself from the shadows cast by the council building; if she'd blinked, she would have missed it. Suki points out a few more; glancing figures and hastily shrouded silhouettes litter their path as the boat conveys them forward. Yue watches in fascination as the figurative scales fall from her eyes under Suki's guidance.
"That's amazing!" Yue laughs gaily, looking back at her from the fore of the boat. "I'd never have guessed without your help."
There is no moon tonight; Suki navigates only by the city lights. Having had a birds' eye view of its layout gives her an immense advantage, but she's not about to show her hand. Besides, Yue seems to light up her surroundings with an imperceptible glow, visible only in another plane.
"This always works for other people," Aunt Wu utters, confounded. No matter which way Suki throws the oracle bones, they all land face down, refusing to reveal their secrets.
"What's your definition of 'people?'" Suki inquires.
Aunt Wu looks affronted, then seems to ponder her question more seriously. She subjects Suki to palm reading, tea leaf reading, divination with elaborately carved tiles, and all manner of increasingly arcane methods, to no avail.
"All I can glean—and this may not even hold true, given your nature—is that you will fall in love with the moon," she says opaquely. She hastens Suki out the door without explaining what that means, and Suki had dismissed it as no more than a load of misguided rambling.
Until now, that is.
The princess tells her about the circumstances of her birth, how the moon spirit blessed her with life when all seemed hopeless. She talks about her duties, her position at her father's right hand during every humdrum council meeting, privy to all his carefully pondered decisions, yet without the power to make any of her own. She bemoans her engagement to some mediocre fledgling by the name of Hahn, the son of a tribal chief from the frozen tundra beyond the city walls. Her father posits that it will benefit them to form alliances with the unincorporated tribes, in case of future attacks from the Fire Nation. She resents the political marriage despite recognizing its necessity, and who could blame her? Suki shudders at the thought of being bound to someone she doesn't know and care for.
After that night, Yue resolves to have Suki accompany her more frequently. The next two weeks are a flurry of escapades to locations in and around the city she never thought she'd have the fortune to visit. They go to the Frigid Falls just beyond the eastern gates, aptly named for a strange phenomenon of liquid water flowing perpetually over a gorge to solidify instantly into ice about halfway down, before being carried away on a river that never freezes.
"I can swim," Yue says at random, as they watch the waterfall's eternal cascade in serene silence. She likes that about Suki, that they can coexist in peace without having to fill the air with conversation. "Everyone in the city can; it's an occupational hazard of growing up half in and half out of the canals. But it's generally not approved of for royalty to voluntarily frolic on the open waters. Drowning is never an impossibility, no matter how skilled you are."
"At least you don't have the Unagi." Suki launches into a detailed introduction of the huge eel-serpent creature that roams the waters around her home island. It does sound like a fearsome beast that she wouldn't want to cross, but there's a silver lining: after her village sustained severe damage from a Fire Nation attack, Aang manipulated the Unagi into dousing the fires with its vigorous water blasts.
"He's quite an inspired leader when he calms down enough from running wild with his air scooters and fancy tricks," Suki evaluates with a smile. "I mean, no Avatar is ever perfect, and there's always quite the learning curve. It's not easy being part spirit."
The way she says that rings of experience, although that doesn't make sense. Yue, for her own part, doesn't regularly feel different despite her life force being sustained by the moon, but she's not sure that counts as being part spirit. Hm.
The moon grows rounder as it approaches full. "The icy wheel is the highbrow term used in poetry and plays," Yue says, hearkening back to many classics she's read in the royal library.
"The celestial dinner plate," Suki counters, deadpan.
"The heavenly milk curds."
"The ancestral custard."
"The spirits' guilty midnight snack."
They're wheezing with silly laughter long before they run out of irreverent epithets for the moon. Suki gets her breathing under control and sits up. They're sprawled on Yue's spacious balcony, an impromptu sleepover of sorts, she supposes, not having any standard of comparison. They've piled as many furs as they could get their hands on, and it's comfortingly like a little nest against the cold.
"I can only recite one poem. It's also about the moon—do you want to hear it?"
Yue acquiesces, and Suki proclaims:
Bright moonlight before my bed
Mistaken for frost upon the ground
To gaze on the moon, I raise my head
Lower it, and reminisce on my hometown (3)
An awkward silence, the poem over much sooner than Yue had expected, and much simpler as well. "Did you write that yourself?"
"No," Suki pouts, hearing her hesitant but teasing tone but not taking too much offense, fortunately. "It's by Avatar Kyoshi. She was never the best with words, but it was composed from the heart, believe me."
"How do you know?" At Suki's puzzled glance, she clarifies, "You sound as if you knew her personally."
"Oh, well… you get to know a person's mindset if you embody their teachings seriously enough."
It seems like there's more to it, but Yue doesn't pursue her line of questioning. Maybe it's something more deeply personal to Suki, and she doesn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. "It's nice." She doesn't lie. "But you'll definitely never mistake moonlight for frost on the ground here, because everything's always covered in snow."
"How convenient," Suki says drolly.
They last about six seconds before bursting into laughter again at her constipated tone and the inherent incredulity of poems transplanted out of context. It's utterly delightful.
They watch the northern lights from the top of the observatory, the highest tower in the city, almost as tall as the mountains surrounding it. Yue leans on the waist-high guardrails and feels giddily imperiled. She turns her back to the two-hundred-foot drop and gleans the reflection in Suki's eyes—much lovelier and rarer to behold.
"What do the northern lights signify to your people?" Suki asks.
"Generally we don't ascribe too much meaning to them," she admits. "The shamans—they tend to spend their time at the shrine of the Avatar, away from the city center—they'd be able to tell you, based on the exact timing of the lights and the patterns and colors that you see, what messages the ancestral spirits are trying to convey to us. But the lights happen so often around this time of year, and the messages are so nonspecific that they could apply to anything." She thinks about various audiences with the shamans, who always had some dire advice to relay when the sky lit up iridescent green and blue. Her father is a practical man, and though he does put some stock in the spirits, especially the moon spirit, he's more interested in dangers that he can actually perceive.
Speaking of dangers perceived, Chief Arnook hasn't made even a passing mention of Yue and Suki's wanderings (4). Suki's noted to her that her usual retinue of benign shadows has decreased to the point that they're sometimes alone together, meandering through the city's nightlife. Yue wonders at this, given his historically vocal objections to her going anywhere near the perils of running water or heights. It sounds ridiculous even in her head, but she wishes to herself that it might be his way of giving his blessing. What that means, given that she's engaged to the lackluster Hahn, who knows? But at least he doesn't disapprove of her spending time with Suki, and Yue will milk that for all it's worth.
One thing she knows without a doubt: she wouldn't mind if time were to freeze on this moment like the icy Reflecting Pool, a perfect circle capturing the milieu of their peaceful enjoyment together. What's to stop them?
Alas, it is not to be. The day after that, ash falls from the sky like craven snow, polluted, corrupted, a sign of worse catastrophes to follow. They rush to the council hall, where Yue's father stands at the head of those gathered, seemingly weary before the battle has even begun. It is a day they all knew might come, yet fervently hoped that it would not.
Chief Arnook bestows the mark of the warrior upon those who will stand and fight. Sokka receives his mark, but the chief commands that Katara and Suki stay behind to protect Yue. For once, Katara does not argue. Now is not the time to defend wounded pride and open up new schisms in their tribe's unraveling traditions.
The Avatar flies to meet Admiral Zhao's fleet. He is just a child—this is not his place. This is not any of our places, Yue thinks darkly, watching his progress from the wall. Her father had entreated her to wait inside, but she will not hide while her people sacrifice their lives to defend their homeland. She is their princess, until the very end.
The first blast strikes just short of the wall, flinging up sheets of snow in every direction. Yue cringes away from the impact as a second strike follows right on its heels, closer and more urgent. She looks to Suki as the wall buckles under this renewed assault, ice and soot mixing with the debris. The Kyoshi warrior stands tall and fearless despite the war drums next to her that have been toppled by stray projectiles. The drummers have fled their posts, gone to help mend the break in the wall. The waterbenders in their long skiffs on the bay quail before the oncoming battleships.
"Their battle spirit wilts," Katara murmurs at her side, considerably less composed. "We never thought the wall could be broken."
This wall is not that wall, Suki thinks. She has seen a greater wall in eons past, with a different Avatar and set of companions. That wall was infiltrated by sly words and cunning promises made in the dark. This one may only be brought down by cannon fire, something far easier to defend against.
"I have to go," she says shortly.
"What?" Katara looks at her like she's grown a second set of limbs—not too farfetched, as it were. "But Chief Arnook said—"
"Remember yourself," she says to Yue, who nods. Souls that resonate together need no such banal explanations. She dashes for the stairs to ground level. There is no time to waste.
Katara helps Yue lift the drums back into position. The princess takes the sticks in hand, each nearly as thick as her raised arms, sleeves falling loose to expose them as she resumes the drum beat, the heartbeat of their people.
It is a crazed rhythm, without finesse, without training, but the pell-mell thoom thoom thoom of Yue's battle cry contains authority, determination, defiance in the face of resignation to their fate. Their defeat is not certain, and with the drumming to incite them, the warriors rally again. Bands of waterbenders on their skiffs surround the forerunner of the enemy fleet, lifting its hull from the water and freezing it in place. Another fire blast from farther afield, but this time, the warriors on the battlements move as one unit, raising a cocoon of solid ice with such momentum that it captures the projectile in midair, fizzling out dispiritedly and falling harmless to the waters below.
We may yet prevail. Far in the distance, an anomaly catches her eye. Spirits only know who conveyed them here and how, but out of nowhere, half a dozen small dark crafts pull up alongside the fleet, several hundred yards away. Even from this distance, she can distinguish the figures rowing the boats: deep green accoutrements, gold headdress, and the merciless white face paint of the Kyoshi warriors.
Her first thought is that Suki must have brought them along to guard Aang during their travels, but why would she conceal this? And how could they go undetected for so long?
Yue passes off the sticks to Katara, for the heartbeat cannot stop. There's a scope set up a few paces away, miraculously undamaged. She turns it towards the mysterious newcomers Katara had noticed. The Kyoshi warriors swarm the ships with supernatural agility, dodging attacks and disarming weaponry. How can this be?
She focuses the scope on the horizon, dismayed at the enemy fleet filling the bay as far as her eyes can see. The drumming behind her, the chaos around her, and the fear within her will not let her forget. We are mortal; we are human.
To be human is to fear death, and to die.
Her heart brightens a shade as she looks up to the cliffs that surround the bay, their sheer walls forbidding and unscalable. There at the top stands an unexpected friend.
She almost cries out for Katara to come see, but something oddly like jealousy stays her tongue. It is her fowl friend, the winsome crane that haunted the Reflecting Pool for a fleeting dream's span many nights ago. She peers more closely through the scope, but her eyes do not deceive her. The crane stands there, long neck curled around and sharp beak digging into the luxurious feathers of its wings, as if searching for something. Presently, it emerges clutching a snowy white feather in its beak, which it lets fall idly. The wind catches it, and it drifts aimlessly down into the frigid waters of the bay.
Time and time again, the crane plucks its feathers and casts them away, and the sea churns and rolls with the onslaught of the Kyoshi warriors. Suki has a lot of explaining to do, Yue thinks as she prays for her safe return. It is all she can do at this point.
The sun sets, and night falls, or it would have, if the sky had not been smog-ridden and obscured for most of the day by the Fire Navy's foul pollution. The ships show no sign of falling back, though, and the Northern Water Tribe's forces are flagging. So Yue does what she must, knowing that this is her people's last resort. If this fails, they have nothing left.
She leads Aang and Katara to the spirit oasis. Sokka and Suki, her father and anyone else who could be spared for the battle, are still lost in the fray. They cannot delay, not without help from the spirits. But the Avatar is the bridge to the spirit world, so it should be no problem.
There are a couple of hiccups. The Avatar is young and distractible, and entering the spirit world requires absolute concentration. Once he's on his way, though, there are other obstacles to his goal. One Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation manages to infiltrate the oasis, but Katara deals readily with him, launching him into an icy tower that she raises from the pool and then dropping him heavily on the ground (5).
"That was rather satisfying," she remarks after he is safely wrapped, unconscious, in a cocoon of ice.
If Yue's memories of Katara and Sokka's retelling of their experiences with Zuko suffice, this is the banished prince who burned down Suki's village, menaced the Avatar and his companions countless times to try and capture Aang, even going so far as to cross a naval blockade and collude with pirates and bounty hunters. It's not surprising that this should be so satisfying to Katara. However, greater dangers await them summarily, and there is no time to revel in this small triumph.
Zhao has caught up to them at last. Iroh is here too, and he wastes no time in launching an ultimatum to the deluded admiral. For a long moment, it looks as if Zhao will capitulate. He releases Tui back into the water, and the koi fish swims away gratefully. But in the blink of an eye—Katara almost misses the crazed flash of bloodlust in his—a violent flame slashes the air, echoed by a piercing cry and a gust of pressured air ghosting over their faces.
With no small shock, she realizes that a cranefish has swept in through the oasis's battered doors, snatching the moon spirit right out from under Zhao's traitorous attack. She has a split second to react before it flings the koi in her direction, and she pulls a strand of water up just in time to safely encase Tui.
Undeterred, Zhao starts forward, hoping to finish the job, only to be met by the cranefish's wrath. With its mighty wings and sharp beak, it savages his face and barely withers before his feeble defense. At the same time, Iroh makes good on his promise, and Zhao and his men flee, cowed by his furious pursuit.
Though the would-be moon-slayer is gone, the koi spirit is fading fast from its injuries. The moon dims in the sky, and Katara cannot even maintain enough waterbending to heal its hurts. She and Yue gaze at its shuddering form in mute horror.
"It's over." Yue's tears fall unstemmed as her hands clutch her head, reverberating with the throbbing ache of the loss of the moon.
So it must be. Without the moon, their waterbenders will be defenseless, and the Fire Nation will win.
"It's not over."
Aang has awoken at last, not that he necessarily could have intervened, given the suddenness of Zhao's attack, Katara reflects sadly. But he seems to have something else in mind as he wades into the pool, where La alone remains.
The Avatar is both prophet and calamity, peacemaker and the ruin of thousands. He descends into the water with an inky splash and rises as one with La, the ocean spirit, ancient as time itself. The hallowed glow of the sea surrounds them, spilling out of the oasis, the only light illuminating the empty night.
"It's not over," Yue echoes numbly. Across the pond from them, the cranefish shudders and cries out, a shadow of its throaty battle call. They hasten over to where it lies, burned beyond hope of healing.
It's not over. The words circle through Yue's mind, dulled by grief, until they find focus in a scene that looks remarkably like the Reflecting Pool where she met the cranefish.
The Avatar is human merged with age-old spirit. And if Yue is not mistaken, Suki and the cranefish are no strangers to each other either, but rather two halves of one whole. Human and spirit; spirit and human. Yin and yang, ethereal and mundane. In every person, there is a touch of the divine, and especially so in Yue's case.
"No…" Katara intuits what she is about to do, but her defiance is nominal, for she knows that some sacrifices must be made for the good of their people.
She reaches for the stricken Tui, too weak to even struggle now, and lays hands on its scaly skin like fate's own electrifying caress. The moon spirit gave her life once upon a time: now she will sustain it, replacing its original, irrecoverable mortal coil. An exhilarating thrill, like the sting of a jelly, but far more transcendental, and all at once, the oasis dazzles her in an unearthly gleam. When she opens her eyes again, she sees the world in a different light.
Turning into the moon spirit comes with a number of perks and disadvantages, Yue finds out. First and foremost, it saves the day (well, the night, to be more precise) and enables the Northern Water Tribe to drive out all the invading forces that hadn't been beaten back by Aang's fusion with the ocean spirit. The Fire Navy lies broken at the bottom of the sea. It will not rally again in this generation.
Second, being the literal human iteration of the moon means that Yue has to contend with emitting a faint silvery sheen wherever she goes. She also develops a narcoleptic tendency, falling asleep where she stands as soon as the moon rises in the early afternoon and waking past sunrise when the moon loses visibility. It's inconvenient, but things could be worse.
Finally, with her new, quasi-divine status (no one's sure just how immortal she is, and certainly they're not going to test that), her ascension to chief goes unquestioned after her father's fall in battle is confirmed. She should feel more grief and pain at his passing, but instead, she feels only a deep-seated weariness, almost ingrained into her, like a pocket of air trapped in an ice cube: isolated, negligible. Perhaps it's a natural part of transcending humanity. There isn't much of a precedent for this situation.
Hahn is dead, too, but she can at least attribute the triviality of his passing to relief at the annulment of her engagement. Those fallen in battle are not the only ones for whom their hearts ache. There is much work to be done in rebuilding the city and reshoring their defenses. Every pair of able hands is needed, and every absence sorely missed.
"Suki's still missing," Sokka laments, stooped on the grand steps leading into the council hall. He gazes blankly across the courtyard toward the wall, as if hoping to witness her return from battle. "I haven't seen hide nor hair of any of the Kyoshi warriors either. It's as if they just melted away like ice. Aang and I have flown out for a couple hours the past two days looking for them, but… nothing."
"She'll come back, Sokka," Yue reassures him. "I'm sure she will eventually."
"How do you know, though? It's just really fishy how she secretly had them tag along behind us, only to show up when the fighting broke out. Like she knew this would happen," he theorizes.
Yue looks over her shoulder at Katara, who stands watch behind them. A glint of understanding manifests in her eyes drawn with worry, albeit for a different reason.
Katara accompanies her to the healing huts, where Yugoda keeps watch over the injured cranefish.
"It's been three days, Chief Yue, but the bird hasn't stirred once," the old healer informs her. "I don't know that even my skills are up to par for the care this creature needs. Its chi paths are unlike anything I've ever felt."
That's not encouraging, but they can't lose hope. "Do what you can," she instructs.
Yugoda bows, and as she tiptoes from the house, Katara turns to Yue, pensively gathered at the cranefish's nest of soft furs.
"How did you know?"
They both burst out laughing upon asking each other the same question. Neither notices the cranefish shift slightly at the sound of joy echoing in the small room.
"I can't put my finger on it exactly," Katara admits. "I don't think she ever tried to hide it from us. It's just that—I never confronted her about it; Aang was always distracted by other things; and I'm beginning to think that Sokka might be red-green colorblind." (6)
"You're serious."
"I am."
Between the two of them, they trace the flight of the cranefish over the past few weeks, how it followed Team Avatar to the capital city, and in the battle against the Fire Navy, only to lie unconscious and unresponsive now, another rent thread in the tapestry of grief gracing the Northern Water Tribe.
"It doesn't explain everything," Katara concludes. "But I suppose we won't know more until she wakes up."
Yue can feel the exhaustion pulling at her limbs, lidding her eyes, the moon spirit in her core blossoming into wakefulness. It's the third day since she became one with Tui, fate now bound to its spirit forever. The moon must be about to rise.
She lays down next to the cranefish, the translucent moon peeking through a gap in the ceiling, just enough to bathe them in chilled light. Katara looks on thoughtfully, instinctively guessing what Yue has not said but is clear nonetheless: they will either both wake up… or neither will.
I must still be dreaming, she thinks as she wakes up to the sight of Princess Yue sleeping at her side in a small dark room, the moon shining gaily above.
All is quiet, trance-like, while Suki carries Yue in her arms through the empty streets. She doesn't detect any bodyguards slinking along in their footsteps; perhaps they've all been dismissed, or more soberingly, slain in the battle. She can see the repairs in progress around the city as she brings Yue to the spirit oasis, the site of such devastation for them both.
She stands in worshipful vigil as the princess slumbers on next to the pool where La circles alone. Unable to fall asleep herself, she passes the hours recalling happy times she's spent with another half-human, half-spirit being.
"I first met Avatar Kyoshi when she saved me from a dark specter in the spirit world over two hundred years ago," she tells Yue's unconscious form. "In return, I pledged to always accompany her and protect those she held dear, whether as a human or in cranefish shape. Spirits can't bend the elements, but we can bend the energy that composes ourselves into different manifestations. The Kyoshi warriors were born of my plumage, as you saw, with no other purpose than to defend those who need defending, including you." (7)
Including you. A kindred spirit, divine soul trapped in a mortal body—no more.
Yue opens her eyes. Suki's lost track of time; it must be close to dawn. "There you are," she murmurs fondly.
"Here I am," Yue agrees. "Because of you."
"It wasn't my most elegant move," Suki dismisses. "Snatching a fish out of the water as if I were just another hungry bird; how embarrassing."
"You saved the moon, though, and for that, we are all indebted to you."
"Mm, doesn't sound like the best place to be, economically speaking." She's not sure why she's nervously delaying the inevitable with nonchalant quips and easy conversation. It's simpler to mask what they have in feigned casualness.
A tight grip on her hand, Yue's eyes fierce and demanding, gleaming with a dark side like the moon's. "Will you stay?"
A loaded question, but her lips supply the answer readily. "Forever."
A promise between two not-quite-human-beings, but it heralds so much more. They delve into the exact meaning of 'more' as Suki surrenders to the moon spirit's blistering kiss.
Bright moonlight before my bed
Mistaken for frost upon the ground
To gaze on the moon, I raise my head
Lower it, and reminisce on my hometown
This is my home now. Forever.
Notes
1) "People who live in ice houses shouldn't roast others": obviously a reworking of the saying "People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones," but I thought it was so clever :D
2) The cranefish is a hybrid animal introduced in The Rift comic trilogy; it looks like a regular crane with scales on its back.
3) Li Bai's "Night Thoughts" is pretty much the first poem that kids learn, at least in weekend Chinese school here in America… I'm kind of embarrassed that the most moon-related poem I can remember is also the most basic, but it's quite appropriate for the situation.
4) "Chief Arnook hasn't even made a passing mention": in the show, when Arnook assigned Sokka to guard Yue, I was confused, because why would you pair the two of them up when she's obviously infatuated with him but engaged to someone else? I thought he would be more puritanical about it. But then I had a sad thought: maybe he knew (or guesses, based on the vision he had long ago) that Yue wouldn't survive this battle, so he wanted her to enjoy the little time she had left with someone she actually liked. Similar thing in this universe: just let her be happy with her friend until she has to get married :(
5) The battle originally lasts two days, with Zuko waking up on the second day, kidnapping Aang out to the tundra, and lots of moving pieces that I decided to scrap in the interest of my time and sanity. So everything happens in one day: the invasion, Zuko's infiltration, Zhao killing Tui, and Koizilla.
6) Red-green colorblindness is X-linked recessive and therefore more likely to occur in males. I just thought it would be interesting if Sokka's condition caused red and green colors not to stand out as vibrantly, and thus he didn't notice the bright red markings on the cranefish that match the Kyoshi warriors. Since everyone in the South Pole seems to wear blue and don't have many brightly colored fruits or vegetables, I suppose it could have gone undetected until now
7) The Kyoshi warriors' origin story here is obviously very different in that they're derived from the cranefish. In addition, the cranefish featured in The Rift was the form that Lady Tienhai's spirit took after her human body died. If you want to think of Suki in this universe as that same cranefish spirit, that later went on to meet Avatar Kyoshi, I suppose you could. I didn't want to complicate the story too much, so I didn't mention it. It would be kind of neat, though.
A/N: I've never read a Yueki fic in my life, so apologies if there are any ship tropes or story beats that I missed. I liked how this fic turned out, though I don't think I'd write more in this universe. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading :)