Written for Kataang Week 2022
Day 3: Sneaking Off
Katara stood beside one of the small, high tables that were scattered around the grand hall. The occasion was formal and the hour was late; the remnants of dinner had long been cleared away. She turned her wine glass absently with her middle finger and thumb as she made small talk with the woman next to her, a diplomat from the Fire Nation around her age. Katara had spoken with this woman at these sorts of events before – their conversations tended toward the superficial but were pleasant enough.
She soon became aware of a hush falling over the crowd. Katara followed her companion's gaze to the dais at the front of the room, where Aang was now positioned. Even if his tattoos and bright orange robes did not mark him as distinct from the rest of the partygoers, something in his eyes or his presence would have done so anyway. And yet, with an affable smile he instantly put the audience at ease. Katara had seen it happen over and over and over.
There had been other speeches that night, to commemorate the anniversary of one of the many peace agreements that had paved the long road to a safer world. Aang was speaking last; nobody had wanted to follow the Avatar.
He captivated effortlessly. Katara knew better than anyone.
He had practiced this speech with her a couple of times, while they were working in the garden. His brow furrowed, his words exploratory, his eyes entreating her opinion. Now Katara listened to his voice flowing smoothly through the particular melody that only he could produce: a deep chord of regret for the past, high, clear notes of hope for the future, even a calibrated undertone of tasteful humor.
She looked around at the crowd. Nobody spoke, but she knew what they were thinking. Charming. Inspirational. Katara smiled wryly. Aang was very, very good at this.
His eyes met hers, once, and she was suffused with a sudden heat that caught her off guard.
When the speech was finished, Aang descended to the main floor to raucous cheering and applause. He made his way from the stage as if through molasses, returning enthusiastic bows, stopping to exchange a few words with this noble or that official.
Katara was patient; she knew the ceaseless, unseen force between them would draw him to her like a magnet in due time. The furtive sweep of eyes up and down his tall form as he circulated through the crowd only amused her, sour jealousies of her younger days barely a memory now.
She returned to her conversation with the Fire Nation diplomat; another official, this one from the Northern Water Tribe, joined them.
Katara turned around instinctively as the people she was talking to abruptly cut off mid-sentence. Aang had finally reached her through the still-lively crowd. She was glad to be able to see his dear face up close once again.
"That was wonderful, sweetie," she beamed at him. Her companions concurred.
"Thank you," Aang smiled graciously, "although I always have help." He sent a conspicuous nod in Katara's direction. The diplomats' eyes finally left him, and they glanced at Katara, appearing impressed.
Aang raised a finger. "Do you mind if I steal Master Katara for a moment?"
Without really waiting for a response, he linked his arm in Katara's and the two of them walked away from the tables, away from the crowd. They headed slightly out of view of the rest of the party, behind the meager cover of an ornate pillar.
Aang sighed exaggeratedly and wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning just enough of his weight into her so as not to push her over. Katara's hands drifted to his shoulders.
"I have to talk to one more member of Earth Kingdom nobility," he murmured, "and then do you want to get out of here?"
Katara smiled softly up at him. "Your place or mine?" she whispered.
Aang laughed. They were married, and had been for over a decade.
"My place is a mess," he said, sheepish.
Katara pouted innocently, and plucked a bit of fuzz off his robe, then smoothed the fabric back down with her fingers. "Is it really?"
He nodded, chagrined. "Like a tornado passed through. And we'll have to be careful not to wake up my kids."
Katara gasped. "You didn't mention you had children!"
Aang grimaced. "Oops, that's my mistake… I have a feeling you'll like them, though." A mischievous smile barely tugged at the corner of his mouth and Katara felt weightless. "They're a handful," he admitted, "but so, so brilliant. Bumi is the funniest kid you'll ever meet—"
"Funny how?" Katara interrupted, her eyebrows knit together in feigned inquisitiveness.
"Oh… he tells these stories, you know? I leave him alone for half an hour and supposedly he's fought off a tree spirit with nothing but his wits and a handful of pai sho tiles."
"That does sound pretty funny."
"I still haven't gotten my pai sho tiles back," Aang lamented. "But he's sharp, too; a little engineer already, like his uncle, always tinkering and figuring out how things are made."
"He must be a real character."
"Boy, you can say that again." Aang grinned widely at Katara and she bit her lip to stifle a giggle.
"And my daughter, Kya, well… she's like the autumn wind, Katara. Her spirit is free, and beautiful. She's never met an injured animal she won't try to nurse back to health."
His fingertips began to brush up and down her spine in a gentle, repetitive motion.
"Do you have any other kids?" Katara asked. Their faces were so close now, she could count the smile lines at the corners of his eyes, the stress ones on his forehead.
Aang beamed at her, a genuine, besotted smile breaking through their pretense. "Tenzin, the littlest one. Just a toddler, but so wise. Meticulous, considerate, even. Throw in just a smidge of a temper and he's… perfect." He paused, and his expression was suddenly filled with an earnestness that took her breath away. "They're all perfect, Katara."
For a moment their shared breath was the only thing that existed.
Then Katara pulled away and cleared her throat. "Well, your kids sound great, but this is moving a bit fast, don't you think? I've only come here to have a good time."
Aang's eyes briefly widened in surprise, then narrowed again in recognition of his wife's trickery. He threw his head back and laughed. Katara couldn't help but chuckle as well. With another grin Aang dipped his head to press a firm kiss to her lips, his hand on her jaw drawing her closer.
He leaned back and considered her for a few moments. The booming laugh of the Avatar had drawn the attention of passersby even in their relatively inconspicuous location; their subsequent display of affection had done nothing to dispel it.
Aang led Katara further away from the party with an inclination of his head, slipped his hand into hers. They found themselves on a balcony overlooking a courtyard.
Both took in the cooled night air, the sound of cricket-frogs.
"Katara, can I tell you a secret?" Aang asked, his tone serious.
She nodded.
"I don't really want to talk to Hao Ran. He'll turn what should be a five minute conversation into an hour of mind-numbing blather. I'd rather do anything else, anything, but mostly I just want to go home, see our children safe in their beds, and then take that stunning gown off you."
There was a pleading in his eyes. He had given so much already tonight. Everyone needed something from him. Always. Katara wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go, to keep everything callous and grasping and ravenous away from his light. He was asking her permission, and she was going to give it.
"My love, I've been waiting to get out of this dress all evening." She tilted her head, smiled coyly at him. "Is it really so important to talk to Hao Ran?"
Aang shrugged. "He'll be offended if I don't at least acknowledge him."
She ran her hand up his arm, thumbed the point of his collar. "Let him. You can send him a thoughtful letter tomorrow. You're good at that."
The magnitude of the relief on his face sent a pang to her heart.
Katara reached into a pocket hidden in the folds of her gown and removed a bison whistle. She felt the name carved into the wood, Bumi, the signature of its young maker who had presented it to her with such glowing pride. She brought the whistle to her lips and blew, hard.