Chapter 12: Path
Katara awoke the next morning to the sound of knocking at her door.
She got up from the bed—she had slept on top of the silk sheets, still fully dressed, except for her boots which she had discarded in the corner—and headed toward it, passing by her bending pouches on a nearby stand on the way. It was probably just Suki, and yet she felt her heart give a kind of unsteady lurch anyway—she hadn't really spoken properly to Aang, not since the courtyard after the Melon Lord training.
That felt like years ago now, and seeing him again briefly yesterday had ignited in her all sorts of thoughts and feelings she wasn't sure she could have fully explained even to herself. She wanted more than anything to talk to him, but at the same time she wasn't sure she was ready. She wasn't sure what she would say.
However, as Katara drew open the door, half hopeful, half full of dread, she found it was only Sokka.
Sokka was dressed in the same Water Tribe warrior wolf armor he had worn into battle, though given it didn't look even slightly rumpled and was missing the bits of ash and debris it had yesterday, it seemed he had tried to clean it up a bit. He had left off wearing the empty scabbard of his lost meteor sword, and stood with a crutch under one arm, his injured leg still bandaged.
Sokka glanced at her bandaged arm, fully visible—after rubbing the salve into it, mostly to satisfy Suki, she had used the bandages Suki had brought to wrap it entirely. Even though it was still sore, it was more to conceal the burns from view than anything.
Sokka shuffled a bit awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.
"Uh, Suki said you got hurt a bit fighting Azula," he said. "Sorry."
Katara looked away. "It's okay." She added, "Sorry about your sword."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Small price to pay for us all getting out alive. Was looking kind of dicey there for a while."
"What's happening today?" Katara spoke as she turned back to go retrieve her boots. She sat on the bed as she pulled them on over her feet, carefully tucking the hems of her pants into them, trying not to catch the bandages on the edges.
"Everyone's being gathered in the courtyard," Sokka said, following her a few steps inside. "And I mean everyone. They found where they were keeping all the prisoners from the invasion. There's going to be a ceremony where Zuko is officially named the Fire Lord and all that."
Katara nodded slowly. "I guess that is something we're better off not delaying."
She searched the drawers, until she found what she was looking for, a small comb. It was elegantly carved, decorated with what looked like a fire lily. No doubt it would have been placed there for a Fire Nation noble woman to use.
Katara quickly began picking out her hair, trying to get it into a manageable state. When she was finished, she set the comb back on the dresser, then tried to smooth her clothes as best she could.
When she turned back to Sokka, she half expected some comment about girls taking too long to get ready, but found he was eying her with an expression hard to read. She could almost hear Suki's likely words, "I think something else must have happened, besides the burn. It felt like something was wrong…"
"Katara—" he began.
Before he could finish, Katara reached out and touched his shoulder with her good hand. "The war is over now," she said, and she tried to inject as much cheer into her voice as she could. "There's so many possibilities now. For the future."
Sokka opened his mouth as though to say something more, but she had already passed by him out into the hall, and he only sighed. "Yeah," he said. "You're right."
He stepped out after her, then gave her a half smile. "Come on, let's go find Dad."
The courtyard was, as Sokka had said, bustling with activity. It was almost more familiar faces than Katara could have counted—the waterbenders from the swamp were there, in their leaf hats and wood plate armor. There was the remains of Jet's old freedom fighters, Haru was there with his father, and Toph had even found the fighters from her old underground tournament Earth Rumble, mostly rivals she had spent many gleeful rounds smashing into the dirt. All who had banded together to risk everything to fight the Fire Nation.
"Dad!"
Katara's sweeping eyes fell on the place Sokka was looking, and she picked out a tall figure in wolf armor, the same as Sokka's. His back was turned to them, facing other warriors in the same armor, but he turned at the sound of Sokka's voice, and his face lit up in a broad smile.
They hadn't seen Dad since they had been split apart during Azula's attack on the western air temple. Katara felt something swell in her chest, mouth already spreading into a smile—but then she hesitated. The last time she had seen him, she had been—different. A different person.
However, Sokka was already hobbling forward as fast as he could go, and Dad was opening his arms. Sokka threw his arms around him, and a moment later, Katara too rushed into his embrace. She wrapped her good arm around his neck, cradling the other against his side.
He held them both briefly, but tightly. Then they were both stepping back, he keeping a hand on each of them, though he was careful not to touch Katara's bandaged arm.
"I heard what you two did," he said, low and gruff. "I am the proudest father in the world." He looked to Katara, still smiling, and added, "And your mother would be proud too."
Katara smiled up at him, even as tears leaked from her eyes. She wasn't quite as sure of that—but somehow just being together again, seeing he was happy to see them, filled her with a warmth she couldn't describe. However, another distant feeling pricked at the back of her mind—a thought, like when she had been speaking to Zuko about his mother that day near the beach house courtyard, that she couldn't yet fully define.
However, she was distracted by the sound of heavy boots on stone and the clank of heavy weapons, and Katara saw Sokka had raised his eyes to look at something just beyond her. Katara turned to see Suki approaching—dressed in the full armor of the Kyoshi Warriors, face painted in red and white, a golden headdress tied at her forehead. Behind her came the rest of the Kyoshi Warriors, all also dressed in their Kyoshi uniforms.
Sokka grinned wide, as though he hadn't seen her in days.
"There's my favorite warriors! I gotta admit, I kinda missed the face paint. So, how's it feel to be back in uniform again?"
Before Suki could reply, another figure popped out from behind the others, also in face paint and green.
"It feels great!" the girl exclaimed, arms spread with delight.
The Kyoshi Warriors were always hard to tell apart, though Katara couldn't recall any being so exuberant. Still, there was something familiar about her.
Sokka, even on a crutch, was somehow instantly in the midst of the warriors, physically blocking Suki from the girl. He jabbed at the girl with the crutch as though it were a weapon.
"Careful, Suki—Ty Lee's pretending to be a Kyoshi Warrior again!"
Ty Lee—Azula's friend, who had helped Azula conquer Ba Sing Se by infiltrating the city under the guise of Kyoshi Warriors. Katara wouldn't soon forget the feeling of lying on the Earth King's throne room floor, unable to move or bend, her chi blocked.
However, Katara hadn't even had time to tense before Suki was saying, a half laugh in her voice, "It's okay. She's one of us now."
As Sokka looked from one to the other in disbelief, Ty Lee babbled excitedly, "Yeah, the girls and I really bonded in prison. And after a few chi-blocking lessons, they said I could join their group!"
She slipped around behind two unsuspecting warriors, and pulled them both in for a group hug. "We're going to be best friends forever."
The other girls both beamed, as did Suki.
Katara frowned slightly, trying to follow all this. "But—why were you in prison, Ty Lee?"
"That's a very good question." Sokka was already moving back into a defensive position in front of Suki. "She was probably planted there as a spy!"
Suki pushed him aside impatiently. "She was in prison for helping us escape the Boiling Rock, Sokka. When the warden ordered them to cut the line on the gondolas, Mai stopped them. And then Ty Lee helped Mai."
Katara suddenly remembered Zuko saying something about that, that Azula's friend Mai had saved them when they were rescuing Dad and Suki. But, that was all he had said.
"When Mai did that, Azula was sooo mad," Ty Lee said, gloved finger to her lip in thought. "She was going to—you know—Mai. So I chi-blocked her before she could." She suddenly tensed slightly, shoulders hunching, glancing around the surrounding crowd apprehensively. "So... um... where is Azula anyway?"
Sokka shrugged. "Probably in prison."
"She's dead, Ty Lee."
Everyone looked around at Katara, startled. Katara gripped her bandaged arm, and glanced away.
"Azula challenged Zuko to an Agni Kai, and... well... she didn't make it."
"Oh." Ty Lee stared back at her. The face paint was supposed to help conceal emotion, and yet it couldn't hide the way her face slackened in surprise. "Oh..."
There was no relief in her face, only confusion. She glanced around at the others, as though looking for someone to tell her how to react. As if they could tell her if it was really true.
Looking at her face now, Katara heard herself add quietly, "I'm sorry."
At last, Ty Lee said slowly, "Azula... always said she was better than Zuko... that she could always beat him. That she was meant for great things..." She hesitated. "She would... have hated being in prison... after losing to Zuko..."
She seemed to be searching for a positive, not for herself, but for Azula. And, strangely, Katara felt a sudden urge to go hug her. Why exactly, she wasn't even sure herself.
The other Kyoshi Warriors raised their hands to place on Ty Lee's shoulders in support, as she bent in on herself, hands clasped together, still trying to make sense of the news. Even though Azula had been the one to attack them and place them in prison, they were focused entirely on Ty Lee.
Suki too stepped around Sokka to touch Ty Lee's arm, though her eyes lingered on Katara. There was a question there—trying to understand whatever it was she must see in Katara's face.
Katara closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, welcoming the throb in her shoulder.
"Today, this war is finally over."
A massive cheer rose up at these words—Zuko stood on the raised platform at the front of the courtyard, dressed in the ceremonial robes of the Fire Lord. Aang stood beside him, in the light yellows of a monk, sash at his waist and prayer beads around his neck. They both gazed out together over the assembly of reds and blues and greens, and Katara stood at the front with Sokka and Dad, gazing up at them.
Zuko continued, his strong, clear voice carrying out over the crowd, "I promised my uncle I would restore the honor of the Fire Nation, and I will. The road ahead of us is challenging... A hundred years of fighting has left the world scarred, and divided."
He turned toward Aang, and his solemn, serious expression softened briefly to a smile. "But with the Avatar's help, we can get it back on the right path. And begin a new era of love and peace."
One of the Fire Sages who stood in a line near the back of the platform approached, the five-pointed headpiece of the Fire Lord held reverently between his hands.
Zuko lowered himself to his knees, bowing his head.
The sage stepped up to stand behind him, and raised the headpiece high. In a ringing voice, he declared, "All hail Fire Lord Zuko!"
The crowd erupted in raucous cheers. Sokka was wildly waving his arms like a crazy person, while Toph beat her fists against the air from where she sat on top of one her old Earth Rumble rival's shoulders. Suki and the other warriors beamed around at each other, hands cupped to their mouths as they called out in support, while Dad stood tall and proud, clapping his hands, a glimmer of a tear in his eye.
Katara had her good arm raised in the air, a smile on her face—but then she felt her eyes drift back, back across the ceremonial trough full of water, to the pillars, beyond which she knew lay a grate full of rainwater.
It was the same courtyard of course, where Azula had been about to be crowned Fire Lord. This was where such ceremonies always took place, probably for the last hundred years, perhaps even before.
As Zuko had said, the war was over. Now would begin the era of peace they had all dreamed of, a world without the strife of soldiers killing soldiers, soldiers killing civilians. She was happy for it—happy for all those around her now, screaming and cheering with the sheer joy of relief, of excitement for the new world.
But even so, she knew deep down there was a peace she still had yet to find.
She kept her arm raised in the air, even as her eyes remained on the place behind the pillars.
The following weeks brought with it much work to be done, mostly tedious and boring political matters of state. Zuko sent out messengers to all corners of the Fire Nation, announcing his ascension to the throne, that the war was over, and that they would be working with the Avatar to restore balance to the world. King Kuei of the Earth Kingdom, who had been on a personal journey of his own since losing his city, was found, and restored to his rightful rule of Ba Sing Se.
In one of many meetings they had with Zuko and King Kuei, it was decided that the Fire Nation, which had formed colonies on conquered parts of the Earth Kingdom, would withdraw back to their own lands, with Aang helping to mediate and facilitate the process. Before anyone could stop him, Sokka dubbed the process The Harmony Restoration Movement, and as King Kuei liked the name, obvious and wordy as it might be, it stuck. The King decided to throw a festival in honor of the occasion.
"But, what should I wear?"
Katara glanced up from the various dresses in shades of green and flower yellow she had been perusing through, all laid out in neat rows, as several of the many attendants hovered around her, eagerly jumping forward to say something complimentary whenever she showed the slightest interest in anything.
The head tailor, who had been striding among the wares with hands folded primly behind his back, immediately attended Sokka, who was scowling down in thought over a variety of earth kingdom-style fancy robes.
"Sir, might I suggest this one? I do think the black would compliment your regal profile."
Sokka considered, then puffed out his chest. "You know, that would look good on me..."
The man bowed deeply. "We can have it ready for you within the hour."
Sokka frowned, and rubbed his chin. "But now, what vest would go with it?"
Katara noticed Suki roll her eyes, then shoot her a grin, from where she was holding up a deep green vest with fancy gold hems on the shoulders.
King Kuei had told them all they could pick out proper Earth Kingdom garb appropriate for such an important occasion, and his army of tailors would arrange for them to be fitted properly. Sokka in particular seemed to be having a grand time playing the important noble.
Katara was mostly pretending to look, as she had already settled on a dress of a light green, with a similar design to one she had once worn infiltrating King Kuei's court.
"Aang should have come with us," Sokka commented as he picked up one vest, holding it up in comparison to another.
"Aang doesn't need a fancy Earth Kingdom outfit, he's going to wear his monk clothes," Toph pointed out. "He's the Avatar, he's supposed to stand out."
"And you don't think I'm going to stand out with this?" Sokka demanded, holding up the black robe with the gold hem that the tailor had suggested. "I'm going to look so kingly you'll have to fight not to bow to me."
Toph angled her head as though she were looking at it with her sightless eyes. "Oh yeah," she said with mock enthusiasm. "You're going to look amazing, Sokka."
Sokka looked pleased for a second, then scowled as she smirked. He turned to Suki for support. "What do you think?"
"You'll look good in anything," Suki said, though her voice somehow managed to be more teasing than sincere, and Sokka's scowl only intensified. He went back to holding up the two vests.
"We're going to be here all day, aren't we?" Toph said with a yawn, who had picked hers out within two seconds of walking in. Though she couldn't distinguish colors, she was familiar with the feel of fancy clothes and how they ought to go together.
"Probably," Suki said.
Katara, who had knelt down next to a selection of shoes, slowly climbed back to her feet. "I... have an errand I need to run," she said. "I'll be back."
Toph gave her a bored half wave, from where she had taken up a spot on a cushion by a basket of gold thread, one hand folded behind her head. "Have fun."
Katara pointed out the dress she had chosen to the nearest tailor—they had already taken all their measurements earlier—then headed for the door, as behind her the others continued to laugh and bicker. She stepped out onto the well kept street of Ba Sing Se's Upper Ring.
The sun was still fairly high in the sky as she made her way down the avenue. A few people glanced her way—those in Water Tribe clothing were rare in the city, and she wondered how many of them would automatically know who she was just from the color of her tunic. Or maybe they were looking at the enormous, angry red scar that extended down her entire right arm, thick patches of skin like melted welts standing out in stark relief. If they were, she didn't look at them to check.
Katara at last slowed to a stop in front of a double set of stairs, with a simple yet elegant balcony railing at the top. She took the steps up, one at a time, then passed by a merrily bubbling fountain. She came at last to a large building beyond, its roof a warm gold and sunset red, fronted with cheerful yellows and greens.
Katara made her way up another small set of stairs, leading up to the wide open entrance. There she hesitated, the bright light of the midday sun making it impossible to fully see inside. A slightly older couple passed by her from behind, both laughing and murmuring together. After a moment, she followed.
The inside was as merry and welcoming as the outside. Softly glowing lanterns dangled from the ceiling, while a long bright emerald carpet decorated with twin golden dragons extended out from the doorway, ushering the way in. Tables were both round and square, perhaps to accommodate whatever guests might prefer, and they stood at the perfect distance from one another to feel comfortable and spacious, yet also close enough to be friendly, as though all were coming to one large family reunion.
However, Katara noticed that the tables were, at the moment, empty, and as she stood in the entrance, shifting from foot to foot, a moment later she noticed the older couple returning back the way they had come, passing by her. Both looked slightly disappointed, though they were still smiling.
A boy who couldn't have been much older than Aang appeared in the center aisle, waving after them. "So sorry!" he called. "We're closing early today! But come back tomorrow, and the master will fix you something extra special!"
"Thank you, young man," said the older woman with a kindly smile over her shoulder. "We most certainly will."
Katara continued to stand there, and the boy looked next to her, apologetic. "So sorry, we're closing early for the festival. But if you come back tomorrow—"
"Ah, let her in, Lee," came a voice from the back. "This is a very special guest. We can make an exception for her."
General Iroh was standing at the other end of the establishment, a cleaning cloth in hand, as though to wipe down the tables himself—even though Katara glimpsed at least two waiters coming and going through a cloth door that led to the back. They rushed about, apparently preparing to close.
"If you would place the closed sign out and close the doors while you're there, Lee," Iroh said. "I hate to disappoint anyone else."
The boy gave a gap-toothed smile. "Yes sir!" He raced past her, though not before giving her a curious look on the way.
Katara still remained standing by the entry doors, even as they creaked shut behind her. The place was immediately a shade dimmer than before, though light continued to filter in through round, earth kingdom-style windows at front.
"Um," she began. "I'm sorry. I can come back later if now's a bad time..."
"Nonsense," said General Iroh genially, coming forward, draping the cleaning cloth over a forearm. "Any friend of the Avatar is always welcome here. I am merely closing the shop in preparation for your visit tonight before the festival. I didn't expect you so early, but it is a delight." He glanced toward the door. "Will the others be along soon?"
"Um, no," Katara began. "They're still at the tailors. I just had something to discuss with you…"
"I see," he said. "Well, come in! I will take you to the back room, where we brew the best teas. Let me find you a menu."
"Oh, I wasn't really intending—"
But the general was already striding away, humming to himself. She knew he could be a fierce soldier—from what she had heard of the reports, he and the rest of the old masters of the White Lotus had taken back Ba Sing Se from the Fire Nation practically on their own. Yet it was hard to see it, as he smiled graciously and ambled along in no particular hurry.
He held back the cloth door to the back room for her, and in a moment Katara found herself in what appeared to be the tea preparation room. A long counter ran the length of one side wall, along it a row of neatly labeled pots and jars, and nearby a clear space with an arrangement of various implements. Decorated kettles of various sizes sat arranged on shelves above.
Iroh directed her to a small table at back, which might have been for the employees to take short breaks from the daily rush, and she took a seat as he offered her a menu. He stood patiently nearby, cloth still folded over one arm like a waiter, and pointed out a few of the items listed.
"There is the White Lotus," he said, "for the most sophisticated palates. It is said to bring you wisdom when you need it. The White Dragon can be dangerous if not brewed from all the correct ingredients, but it is said to bring courage. There is the Sakura Bloom—I like to say it may bring one confidence in love if that is what you seek, though I can't say I've tested it myself." He chuckled heartily, giving her a wink.
"What about this one?" Katara said, pointing.
Iroh nodded. "Ah yes, the Jasmine Dragon, that is our signature tea. Its aroma alone can bring tranquility to a body that is weary but the mind restless. Many a retired soldier would swear by it—including this one here." He laughed again, patting his own chest.
Katara considered. "I'd like that one. If it's not too much trouble."
"Excellent choice," he said as he took the menu, smiling, though he gave her a curious look as he turned away.
The general left the room briefly, apparently to let the employees know they were free to go for the day. The cheerful gap-toothed boy made a brief appearance to grab a satchel from the corner before taking off. They all seemed happy to be here, and Katara wondered how many angry bosses they might have had before Iroh. She couldn't help but notice the boy's face was crisscrossed in light scars, and it made her wonder if he might have come from the poor lower ring.
When Iroh returned, he went to the shelf of kettles and pulled one down. Next he slid over toward the line of the jars, opening the lid of one and measuring out a small portion of dark leaves.
"How is your arm?" he asked politely as he drew a grinding bowl from a lower cabinet. "Better, I hope?"
"Yes," she said hesitantly after a moment, glancing down at her hand resting on the table. "I still feel it sometimes, but it's mostly back to normal. It's just not nice to look at." She had noticed the others carefully avoiding it with their eyes, at least when she was looking. She could imagine what they were feeling—afraid of hurting her feelings somehow in some way they couldn't predict, not sure how sensitive she was about it.
"There is no shame in scars of war," answered Iroh in a light, yet measured tone.
Katara had folded her hands together, letting the bad hand rest on top of the good, and as she glanced down again at the disfigured flesh, she smiled a little. "Yes, I think so, too."
Iroh had placed the leaves into the bowl, and nothing but the sound of scraping filled the room as he ground them.
At last Katara said into the quiet, "Master Iroh?"
"Please," he answered. "Just call me Iroh. We are friends and equals. We have all fought together. And you are a waterbending master, are you not?" He chuckled. "When we were all setting up camp and getting reacquainted, as old men do, your master spoke highly of you. He said you were the best student he has ever taught—which, I can tell you quite amazed us, as I don't think I've known my friend Master Pakku to say anything so nice of anyone in all the years I've known him."
Katara tried to smile at this, but she couldn't. Instead, a memory had blossomed in her mind—the palace ceremonial courtyard, empty but for the long motes of water wreathed in flickering spots of flame, and those few standing beside her in a rigid line gazing up at the raised dais. Aang, Toph, Sokka, Suki—all dressed in white. Ty Lee's face streaked with tears, Mai's like stone. Above on the dais standing the fire sages, along with Zuko and Iroh, and Ozai far to the side, bound in chains, held in place by guards. The deep, melodic tones of the head sage ringing out over their heads.
"Azula, Princess of the Fire Nation. Daughter of Fire Lord Ozai and Princess Ursa, granddaughter to Fire Lord Azulon and Ilah... Born firebending prodigy and pride of the Fire Nation. We now lay you to rest."
The ornate coffin that stood behind them suddenly blazing, the flames burning bright and harsh in the darkness. Katara, gazing up at it—before her eyes drifted. To Ozai, his face impassive, then to Zuko, who looked on with a solemn strength, though firelight and pain reflected in his eyes. And last, to General Iroh, whose gaze had strayed briefly to Zuko—eyes lowering with sorrow.
Katara didn't know what Iroh felt about all of it. Since they had won the war, she had heard him say he was proud of Zuko, as their dad had told her and Sokka he was proud of them. Yet at the same time, Zuko would sometimes avert his gaze from his uncle, as though with discomfort. That was why she was here—she needed to make sure that everything was cleared up. That he knew the truth.
"Zuko is going to make a great Fire Lord," Katara ventured. "He's done so much already. Things Aang and the rest of us couldn't have done. He's going to make the world better."
Iroh's hand slowed briefly, before starting again. "Yes," he said, and she could hear the soft smile in his voice. "I always knew the man my nephew could be—I tried to push him to choose the right path. But in the end, he had to find it for himself. His honor and strength are unquestionable—greater than mine could ever be."
Katara glanced up at him. It seemed an odd thing to say—perhaps a little too much praise. Iroh had chosen the side of the Avatar long before Zuko, after all. He had always seemed to have the strength to choose the right thing.
"I think you're both strong, and both honorable," Katara offered finally.
Iroh seemed to be done grinding, and he set his pestle aside. He turned briefly to give her a wistful smile. "I thank you. But I am weaker than you know—weaker than Zuko knows." He sighed. "Zuko bears a great burden. Made all the greater..."
Iroh trailed off, and though Katara waited for him to finish, he didn't. Instead, he simply continued to work on the tea, slipping the leaves from the bowl into the kettle, then adding water he had already set to boil with a breath. For a minute it bubbled softly in the quiet. Katara pushed herself to speak—to find the words she needed to say. But instead she found herself staring at the wall. At the light filtering through one of the many elaborate windows, the geometric patterns casting long thin shadows along the floor.
She blinked and looked back to find Iroh was approaching the table, holding a tray with the teapot and a single cup and plate.
Iroh set the tray down on the table, and placed the teacup in front of her. He carefully poured her cup, holding the lid of the kettle in place with a cloth, before he stepped back.
"I do wish I could join you," he said, "but I still have a few preparations to attend to. But please, stay and enjoy yourself as long as you like." He turned away, back in the direction of the cloth flap.
Katara breathed in the scent of the tea, and she tasted something sweet, and floral. It was soothing, just as Iroh had said, and for a moment she stared down into the depths of the tea—her own face staring back at her.
"I killed Azula." She said it suddenly, without preamble. "It wasn't Zuko."
She heard Iroh's footsteps hesitate. She pushed on without looking up, "Azula was getting ready to use lightning, and Zuko was going to redirect it—but she shot it at me instead. Zuko jumped in the way—that's how he got hurt. So... I finished the fight."
Iroh was quiet. He said nothing.
Katara finally forced herself to look up, and saw that he was still standing in the same place, his back to her. At long last he said, "I see."
Katara found herself asking, with a desperation she couldn't quite explain, "What do you know about Azula?"
Iroh turned back briefly, though after a moment his eyes fell not on her, but the window beyond, as though gazing at something far distant.
"When Zuko and Azula were young, I was at war, and I did not see them often. But… on those occasions I returned home, my nephew often wanted me to show him Pai Sho tricks, or take him to festivals, if there were any. I treasured those times. However, my niece did not seem to enjoy time spent with me very much, and I did not push her. When my brother chose to banish Zuko, I took it upon myself to aid him in his quest for the Avatar—I saw his pain, and wished to offer him what support and guidance I could. And so I did not see very much of Azula in those years either."
"Oh," Katara said, sinking slightly in disappointment. She searched for something else to say. "I… guess you must have seen a lot of yourself in Zuko."
Iroh was silent for a long moment—before he chuckled ruefully. "No. In fact, I would say it was the opposite."
Katara blinked, glancing at him in confusion.
Iroh continued, "When I was a young man, I was blind and complacent. As firstborn, my father was always pleased with me and everything I did. But now I see my brother was often overlooked, or else chastised harshly if he did not measure up to our family legacy. My brother and I often competed as brothers do—but by the time I realized that my brother could have used a brother far more than a rival, he had already long hardened against me. He sought power and glory to outshine both me and our father."
His eyes fell at last to Katara, and he smiled sadly. "So you see, I saw in Zuko the ill-favored son, and the opportunity to stand by him in a way I had failed to do for my brother. I had little to do with Azula outside of family gatherings on those brief occasions I was not at war, but—perhaps I saw in her just a little of myself. The favored child, who could not see or understand what a brother needed. I wondered if there may have been a time I could have tried to help her see… but I knew how powerful my brother's thrall could be."
"She was so messed up at the end," Katara said, that same strange eagerness rising in her again. "So... wild. She didn't seem in control. Why?"
"As to that, I can't say," said Iroh. "But I can say my brother was never fully pleased with those who served him. I believed my brother's favoritism like our father's—but in truth our father was indulgent with me. Even when I failed at Ba Sing Se, was broken by the loss of my son—he did not punish me, or push me to go to war again. My brother learned from an early age that he must be perfect for approval, and even then it would not match the approval I would always have. He, on the other hand, never tolerated what he saw as weakness in anyone—perhaps that was, to him, a kind of fairness. Such as it was."
The room was quiet, but for the whisper of the steam rising off the tea.
Ozai's words drifted back to her. She was weak. Azula had thought herself favored, but any love had been thin, dependent on her success.
Katara blinked, as she realized that Iroh was watching her again, still with that same wistful smile.
"I said before that I didn't know if I could defeat my brother," said Iroh. "And that even if I could, it would be the wrong way to end the war." He bowed his head slightly. "I do still believe that—but I must admit, I also meant I didn't know if I could find the will, to do as the world needed. Ozai has done terrible things, and would not have stopped. And yet, I look back and see the suffering boy who our father never chose to love enough, and see my own failure to love where I could have. I love him now, even if it is too late. He is my brother."
Iroh sighed deeply, and his eyes met hers. "You must understand you have saved Zuko from a great burden, Katara," he said gravely. "I will be forever grateful to you for that."
Katara stared down into the depths of her teacup. She understood. Somehow, talking to Iroh, she understood a great many things she hadn't been able to quite put into words before. Toph had told her she had to decide who she would be—because she wasn't the same person she had been that day in the rain, and she never would be again. However, she was finally starting to understand who she wanted to be now.
She didn't thank him—it didn't seem right. Instead, she only dipped her head once, not looking up. And Iroh left her as she quietly drank her tea.
"Zuko, stop moving! I'm trying to capture the moment!"
Everyone stood and sat about Iroh's shop, in varying states of relaxation. They were all dressed in their formal Earth Kingdom clothes they had chosen earlier, and Suki had even helped Katara pin a flower in her hair, in the Earth Kingdom style. All except Aang, who wore his traditional monk clothes with prayer beads around his neck. He sat on the floor, playing with a ball of air as Momo watched it with mixed interest and suspicion. Zuko had been in the process of serving tea to everyone, before Sokka's sudden reprimand.
Iroh sat in a chair a little ways away, playing a Fire Nation instrument of some kind, a horn with a gentle, peaceful quality to its low tones.
Sokka was sitting at a table, observing them all, paintbrush in hand. "I wanted to do a painting," he explained, "so we always remember the good times together."
Katara was touched in spite of herself, and went over to the table to get a look at Sokka's work. "That's very thoughtful of you, Sokka—" Then her eyes fell on the scroll.
"Wait," she began. "Why did you give me Momo's ears?"
"Those are your hair loopies!" Sokka insisted.
Everyone else was suddenly crowding around to get a look at Sokka's art, and Zuko muttered, "At least you don't like a boar-q-pine, my hair's not that spiky."
Mai, who had been freed from prison, stood next to Zuko, and squinted at her own depiction. "I look like a man."
"And why did you paint me firebending?" Suki demanded.
"I thought it looked more exciting that way," Sokka admitted.
As Momo flew over to land on the table, chittering as though also to join in the critique of Sokka's artistic skills, and even Toph and Iroh wandered over to give commentary, Katara noticed Aang had quietly climbed to his feet. He slipped outside, unnoticed.
After a moment, Katara followed.
She found Aang out on the landing, his back to her as he stood near the decorative stone railing. The sun was setting in the distance, lighting the sky in an array of pinks and purples.
She passed by the bubbling fountain, and came up to stand beside him. His eyes remained fixed on the setting sun in the distance, and though he was smiling, there was in it a strange hint of melancholy.
For a moment as she gazed at him, her breathing stopped—he stood straight and tall in his native formal Air Nomad clothes, his head newly shaven, the blue of his arrow tattoos clearly visible in the glow of twilight. She couldn't look away.
The memories she had been unsure of—the Cave of Two Lovers, the secret school dance, the moment before the invasion—now they all seemed to blaze with certainty. In the courtyard facing Azula, in the final moments, it had been Aang she had thought of most. What he would feel if she let herself die, what she would feel if she lost him. She finally understood—it was clear.
And yet, deep down, she knew it wasn't clear at all.
Aang turned to look at her, still with that wistful smile.
"Um," Katara began. "I guess we haven't gotten a chance to talk. You know, since..."
He nodded. "Yeah. I guess we haven't." He glanced at her shoulder, where the burn was concealed beneath the flowing material of her dress. "Does it still... you know... hurt?"
Katara shrugged, feeling a twinge, but ignoring it. "A little. But it's okay. I can still bend like normal."
"It must have been... a hard fight," he said cautiously.
"Aang," Katara said, looking at him directly. "There's… something you should know."
He gazed back at her, uncertain.
She breathed deeply. "I… killed Azula," she said softly. "Not Zuko. He was injured in the fight, and I finished it."
Somehow, it was harder to tell Aang this truth than it had been to tell Iroh—she had told Iroh because she wanted him to know he didn't have to be somehow disappointed in Zuko, or worry about him, at least in that way. But Aang—she didn't want him to be disappointed in her. Him, more than anyone. But maybe that was why she had to tell him the truth—she wanted him to see her, as she was.
Aang's eyes lingered on her for a long moment, as though trying to decipher something in her face. Before at last he turned his gaze back out, toward the setting sun in the distance. After a moment, she followed suit.
"Back in the courtyard," Aang said slowly. "At Zuko's house, I mean. What you said, after we had the training with the Melon Lord..." He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I felt like I'd burned you again. I didn't want you to go after that man because I thought getting revenge would just hurt you. But I—guess I'm the one who hurt you more. I made you feel like… well, I'm sorry."
Katara glanced back at him, slightly stunned. Then she placed a hand on his arm. "No," she said. "No, Aang. You were right all along. I wish I hadn't done it—I did it because I thought it would make me feel better. But it didn't."
Aang glanced down at the hand, the ridges of the burn clearly visible in the evening light. Before he raised his eyes back to hers. He didn't speak.
Katara withdrew her hand. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many things she wanted him to know—but she wasn't sure how to express them all, or if she should. So at last she said simply, "I forgave him."
Aang blinked, startled.
"I didn't at first," she continued. "Even after he was dead. But I don't hate him anymore. And Azula, either. In fact..."
She laughed suddenly, not in amusement, but with sudden nerves. A thought had been growing in her mind—a thought she hadn't quite been able to put into words until speaking with Iroh. She knew how twisted it would sound, and hadn't intended to ever express it aloud, but—she wanted someone to understand. She wanted Aang to understand.
Leaning forward, resting both hands on the railing, she said, "His name was Yon Rha. He must have lived just outside a small village—when we found him, he was carrying a basket of fruits and vegetables back along a deserted path from where he'd probably bought them at the town market." She paused, then added, "When we told him who I was, he… agreed I deserved revenge. He suggested I could take his mother instead."
Katara could sense Aang watching her, but she didn't look at him. "Horrible, right?" she said, lips forming a smile, though without humor. "Except..." She closed her eyes. "I told Ozai about Azula. He didn't even flinch. We knew he didn't care about Zuko, but—even Azula was nothing to him. I wonder now, about Yon Rha's mother—if she was like Ozai. If he didn't care about her, because she didn't care about him."
Katara sighed deeply. "I don't know that. Maybe he was just horrible, and he had no excuse. But—Jeong Jeong told me that when you take a life, they stay with you. And I can feel them both with me. It's like—they're my responsibility. I don't want them to be forgotten. As though—they're my children now."
Katara hadn't meant to tell anyone this. It sounded so twisted, morbid even—like some strange, warped spirit like Aang might encounter in the spirit world, collecting souls. And yet, the thought had given her a new kind of peace too. Even if they hadn't been loved in life, even if they had been monsters, she could love them. She could understand them.
"I know," she said after a pause, laughing again with nerves. "It's kind of creepy."
She felt a hand touch hers, where it was still resting on the stone railing. She finally looked at Aang, to find him staring back at her, eyes wide with emotion.
"No," he said softly. "I think it's... kind of beautiful."
Katara stared back at him. Her heart seemed to swell in her chest—however, as she looked at his kind, gentle features, still lit in the light of the sunset, her eyes dropped briefly. Her heartbeat quickened, heat rose in her face.
"Aang," she began. "I said before—that we should wait until after the war was over to talk about—about, you know, before the invasion. Well, I guess the war is over now."
He blinked, startled, his expression torn somewhere between hope and apprehension. "Okay," he said cautiously. "Um... what did you decide then?"
Katara hesitated, suddenly wondering if she ought to be bringing this up now. She hadn't given herself time to think it through, to fully untangle all the thoughts and feelings now racing through her mind. She knew what she wanted to say—and yet, she couldn't, because there was still more ugliness she had to share.
"I don't regret killing Azula," Katara said quietly. "I regret killing Yon Rha, because I didn't need to. It was wrong. But killing Azula—it hurts, but I would do it over again, if I had to." Katara's shoulder throbbed—she had gotten the injury purely because she had been unable to do it at first. But she didn't regret that either, because she'd had to be sure—sure that she was absolutely decided, that she was ready to take a life again, that it was the right thing to do. And she still felt that it was.
Aang was watching her again, his expression impossible to read, neither one of understanding or judgment, at least just yet.
She continued, "I know you wouldn't want me to say this, Aang, but—I did it as much for you as to save me and Zuko. Because I didn't want you to find me like I found my mother."
At this, Aang finally looked away, toward the horizon again.
"I'm sorry," Katara said quietly.
At long last, Aang sighed. "In the fight with Ozai… I almost died. There were so many times that I could have ended it—when he shot lightning at me, when I got the Avatar State back. But when I tried, I just couldn't. Even when I understood the knowledge the lion-turtle gave me, so I wouldn't have to take his life—when I went to take Ozai's bending away, my will had to be stronger than his, unbendable. He nearly overwhelmed me."
Aang turned to look at her. "I didn't fail. But if I had—it would have been awful for you, and everyone. For all the world. I know that. But—I guess I don't regret what I did, either."
Katara considered that for a long moment, as they both stared out to the horizon, standing together, yet separated somehow. She had forgiven Yon Rha in death, even after what he done. But she wondered if, if Aang had let himself be killed when he could have survived, how long it would have taken her to forgive him. If she could have ever forgiven him.
Katara turned to him in the dying light, and suddenly found herself throwing her arms around him, pulling him to her. He placed his arms around her in return, tentatively at first, then more tightly.
When at last Katara pulled back, hands on his shoulders, she could feel the tears leaking from her eyes. She reached up to brush them away.
"I'm—planning to go to the North Pole," she said in an unsteady voice. "I want to learn to be a better healer, and use more of my bending that way." She took a breath, then said, "I'm—still discovering myself. I've taken some first steps, but I still need to become who I'm meant to be."
Aang gazed back at her for a long moment, then at last nodded once. "I'll come visit you there."
She smiled. "I'll be looking for you."
Katara squeezed his shoulder briefly, then turned away. Perhaps, like Gran Gran and Pakku, they would find each other again someday. But not now.
Killing Yon Rha had set her on a new path—one where she bore the burden of lives ended, of things she wished she could take back, but maybe she could find a way to love those who no one else did, even if it was only in death. She was glad Aang had escaped the burden of Ozai—and yet, if she was being honest with herself, looking at the ugliest parts of herself without flinching away, she had been a little disappointed too. That, of all those who understood this feeling, this weight, it wouldn't be Aang.
She was still incomplete. She had to go deeper, to understand herself, to become herself, whoever that might be. And that would take time, and thought, and experience. She would eventually know, what she could accept or couldn't accept, but until then, she had to walk the road she had chosen.
Katara made her way back along the stone to the teashop, where the rest of their friends waited together, the red light of the setting sun at her back.
A/N: And, there it is, the end. Kind of.
I think, like a lot of people, I've always been curious about Iroh's relationship with Ozai, since I don't think we ever see them interact in the show, or even in the comics. (Iroh seems to have no illusions about the kind of man Ozai is, but other than that it feels like there's many different possibilities for how things were between them in their younger days.) It had always been my headcanon they didn't have too much to do with each other when they were younger given Ozai was forty-five in the show and Iroh looks like he's in his mid fifties to early sixties, but Legacy of the Fire Nation seems to imply they were closer in age than that, so. I did my best to try to reflect that.
Kataang—so, this might reveal a bit too much about my weird tastes and preferences when it comes to ships, but I've often found, for those ships I'm most interested in, it's the ones left unresolved that I tend to remember the most. So I'll admit that, ironically, I've come to feel like a deeper Kataang fan after working on this project.
Thanks so much for reading! Still an epilogue left to go—it's a bit of a bonus chapter as it wasn't included with the initial draft, and was added quite a bit later. I tried to do my best with the writing anyway, but as always could end up being revised in future.
Thanks so much for reading! This project was hugely helpful in getting me back on more of a writing kick and just working on writing in general, and it's been fun to get to share it. If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you in the last one!
Posted 11/3/22