Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA or its characters.

The Ambassador

Life is made of decisions. Katara seemed to remember somebody once telling her that. Agree to this job, avoid that opportunity. Use a power; don't use a power.

Little moments here and there, tiny decisions that add to a whole. A bigger picture.

Across the room, Sokka and Suki still moved slowly, as if their bodies were weighted, as if breathing were a burden. Suki's wide eyes were full of fear. Both of them had fought many things. Creatures, villains, Spirits. But never themselves. Never their own heartbeats.

And Aang. Aang stood before Amka, still poised from his last attack, his chin tilted downward, eyes flashing almost dangerously- almost, but not quite. Katara could still see the anguish at war with desperation in the gray.

Amka's fist was curled between them, hovering in the air, knuckles white. She groaned with effort.

Because Katara had made her decision.

She stepped forward, one minuscule step, as if to brace herself. The moon wasn't with her, not this time. Bright daylight still streamed through Tokala's large windows. But there was waterbending, there was healing, and there was bloodbending. And now, there was a fourth choice. Katara felt it, hovering above, around, within Amka, a tenuous thread that assaulted every person in the room. With Amka'a closed fist, her bending now wrapped around Aang's heart.

Katara threw herself in front of Aang, her own power tensed like a shield. Not quite bending, not quite healing. She held his heartbeat within the scope of her power, protecting him from Amka's assault. She felt each beat between her fingers, as if her hands were pressed against his chest. Strong, vital, the load lightened now under Katara's shielding.

Beads of sweat stood on her forehead. A silent battle now raged, with Amka and Katara at the center, their wills pitted against each other. Amka's fist shook with effort. Katara's breath came in gasps.

A bright light filtered over her shoulder; the light of Aang's eyes, his tattoos, in the Avatar State. The combined strength of every Avatar before him brushed Amka's grasp on his heart aside as if it were cobwebs, and Katara dropped to her knees in relief. She looked up as Aang stepped around her.

Hundreds of voices spoke as one. "Amka, this cannot be allowed to continue," Aang intoned, the conduit for ancient power. "Let go of them." He gestured to the men and women in the room, the ones still embroiled in their own battle for life.

Some of those battles had been lost already. Sticky red blood pooled on the polished floor.

Amka released a soft cry, a groan of anguish, turning this way and that. To escape what she had done, to escape Aang.

"Let go," Aang thundered. "Or I'll be forced to act."

A rumbling began within Tokala's great house; the walls themselves shook as the Avatar gathered his strength. Droplets of water began to rise into the air, little pieces of gravel and debris floating to the height of Katara's eyes as she knelt on the floor. Aang would level this house if he needed to: level Amka if he needed to.

Katara didn't doubt that Amka could feel it, too.

The Northern girl's face crumpled, tears flowing freely. She raised her other hand.

But before Aang could strike, before he could do anything at all, Kele was there, his arms wrapped around his cousin, and he dragged her back, yelling in her ear, yelling to Aang, yelling to anyone who would listen.

"Stop, please!" he cried, his arms tight bands around Amka. She struggled against him, but he was too strong. "Please, we surrender."

He dropped to his knees, dragging Amka to the floor with him. To Katara's great surprise, the fight drained out of Amka like water from a sieve. Her face went blank, dead. She crumpled to the floor, held up by nothing but her cousin's arms.

"We surrender," Kele said.


It's disconcerting, Aang thought. He had already murmured as much in an aside to Sokka. Truly disturbing.

He'd seen it in her eyes, her desperation to live. To win, even. Survival was everything to Amka. She would have done whatever she felt she needed to.

But now, she was being lead from the room, as docile as an ostrich-horse. The change in her countenance was disorienting. She had already proven herself more than capable of subterfuge, if needed, but Aang could sense in his heart that this was genuine. Amka's face was haggard, eyes lined in a ragged red, but she was blank. Empty.

Kele wrung his hands in anguish as he watched his father's guards bind Amka's hands behind her back. He turned to Aang. "Don't throw her in some prison," he begged suddenly. "She's still a lady of my father's house. Allow her some dignity."

"She tried to kill every person in this room, including your father," Sokka broke in. His tone held no anger, but neither did it brook any argument.

Kele looked over to where Amka's young students still cast furtive glances of fearful confusion about the room as they tended to Tokala under Katara's instruction. Tokala was seated in one of his chairs, elbows resting on his knees as Chenoa's hands pressed firmly against his chest. Katara stood behind him, a globule of cold blue water weaving in and out of the skin of his upper back the way a dolphin might leap through water.

"She could have killed him," Kele muttered. "She didn't."

"Small mercy," Sokka replied. "Tell that to them."

He gestured to the blue sheets, the ones that shrouded the bodies of the four guards Amka had killed. Hearts shattered within their chests. Elu and Kasa, despite their experience as healers, had blanched visibly when they had inspected the damage. Kasa had vomited onto the carpet when her hands had glided over the first guard. Amka watched it all with the stillness of a statue. Not indifference, not coldness. Not anything. As if she wasn't there at all.

Kele worried at his lower lip as he looked to Sokka in quiet supplication. "She never wanted any of this."

"She killed five people," Sokka said. "Caused a Spirit attack that nearly killed myself and Aang, which also resulted in the kidnap of the Head Chieftain of this village-"

"She didn't know about the Spirit," Kele protested. "How could she have? You didn't even know about it."

Sokka crossed his arms over his chest, but his expression was thoughtful. "Five murders is more than enough to lock her away," he said slowly.

Kele stared stonily back.

"But... I won't decide anything until we understand why."

Suki stepped forward from where she had been leaning against the wall, lost in thought. "Take her to her rooms, Sokka. Post guards," she urged him quietly.

Aang quirked one brow at her. "You saw how useful guards are against her."

"She won't do it again," Suki said.

"How do you know?"

Suki's chin lowered. "I just know."

"Forgive me if I don't want to take my chances," Sokka muttered.

Katara pulled the water from Tokala's back, causing the older man to grunt in discomfort. She deposited the used water in a basin on the nearby table, and walked over to her brother, wiping at her brow with the back of one hand. "Suki's right," Katara said.

Sokka looked skeptical, but Aang thought he understood. The fight had gone out of Amka, vanished into thin air. He eyed her mutely. It was if she wasn't even aware of her surroundings. She had vanished within herself.

"She won't try again," Katara murmured sadly. "She knows she can't win."

Sokka eyed his sister. Aang could practically see the wheels turning as he deliberated. "What do you think?" Sokka asked him quietly.

"She said she was a survivor," Aang answered. "If she tries again, she won't survive. She knows that."

"She's so... still," Sokka muttered. "It's disconcerting."

Kele stepped forward, and Aang almost jumped. He'd nearly forgotten the Northern man was still there. "She's in shock. I vouch for her. On my life. Nothing else will happen, I swear to you."

The moment lengthened. Finally, Sokka nodded. "Alright. The guards can take her to her rooms. Don't go anywhere, Kele," he added sharply when Kele turned to follow the warriors as they swiftly led Amka from the room. "Whatever the reason, five people are dead, and you are involved. You both will be interrogated- separately. I don't want to have to sift through another pack of half-truths and secret promises." He turned to the remaining guards. "Take Kele to his room. Be sure he doesn't speak with Amka. Clear?"

The guards snapped Sokka a crisp salute, and Aang didn't miss the strange look- wonder, and maybe a little of something else- that filled Suki's eyes.

When the room was emptied of guards and prisoners, Sokka dropped heavily into the chair across from Tokala, and Aang settled in the seat next to him. They both eyed the older Northern man as Katara made her way back to him.

The soft murmur of both healers voices filled the room. Tokala, though alive, did not look well.

"We need to decide what to do next," Sokka said, breaking through Aang's thoughts. "Sunset is in three hours."

"Interrogate Amka," Suki cut in from behind them.

Aang turned to regard her. "I agree," he said softly. "Kiviuq will be here looking for answers. Handing him Amka without even understanding why she did what she did isn't-" he struggled for the right word- "ethical."

"I wouldn't allow it, anyway," Tokala said suddenly, his voice a gravelly timbre.

"Try not to speak too much," Chenoa urged him gently, her hand going lightly to his back. "You're not completely healed."

He waved her away, but Sokka regarded him a bit coldly. "You wouldn't allow it?" he asked the Northern man quietly.

Aang frowned. A palpable current of tension filled the room as, once more, the North faced off against the South.

"She's my niece," Tokala said.

"She just tried to kill you," Sokka reminded him almost placidly.

Tokala scowled. "She will be answer for the things she must answer for- in the North, by my people. It was her husband that she killed- her husband via Northern arrangement. It was Northern men she killed. My men."

"On Southern soil."

"In a Northern embassy," Tokala snapped. "You won't hand her over to an enraged Spirit's idea of justice because a sense of ethics. I won't hand her to you for the same. She's my niece. She's of the North. We will look into it."

Sokka leaned forward intimidatingly. "We need answers. Now. Kiviuq won't wait for you to return North and close ranks around her to conduct an investigation at your leisure."

"So you'll sell her to the Spirit to buy safety for this village?" Tokala demanded.

To everyone's surprise, Katara spoke up gently. "You're both right."

Tokala blinked up at her.

"Sokka, we can't just hand Amka off to Kiviuq," Katara said. "Unless she's undeniably, unequivocally guilty... and even then, I'm still uncomfortable with the idea."

"I wasn't going to," Sokka protested. "It makes me uncomfortable, too."

"And Tokala," Katara continued, turning to the injured man, "you can't think we're going to pass Amka off to the North and hope for the best. Too many things are at work behind the scenes."

Tokala winced as Chenoa slid her hands to a new spot on his back. "What do you-" he paused for a moment, panting in pain. "What do you suggest we do, then?"

His question was solely for Katara, and without condescension. The entire group regarded him with surprise, and Aang hid a small, proud smile.

"We need to interrogate Amka, and we need to do it now," she said. "After we have a better scope of understanding as to the nature of her reasons, her crimes... how she came to discover this power, then we can decide from there." She gave Tokala a hard look. "And it has to be happen within the next three hours. So, if you want to give Amka the best chance, you're going to have to submit wholeheartedly to Southern leadership. We don't have time for arguments at every turn."

Tokala returned her look with a grave one. Finally, he nodded somberly. "Very well. Who will conduct the interview?"

Aang stood slowly, straightening his spine vertebrae by vertebrae. "I will. And Katara."

Sokka put one hand to his chin. "I'd like to be there-"

"They'll ask what needs to be asked," Suki broke in gently. "And, it seems like you'll be needed elsewhere. Head Chieftain," she added in a soft little voice.

With that, they all stood, the weight of the work left to be done hovering over them like a weight. From beyond the windows, the sun sank a little further on the horizon.


Sokka rubbed at his brows with his thumbs, digging in to relieve pressure. Bato had just left, and a full report on the preparation of the Southern Warriors stood open on his father's great wooden desk.

He snapped the file shut. Bato had agreed with Sokka's initial plan. Circling the village in rings would offer the best protection, if the worst should happen. The Spirit was fast, and brutal. If they couldn't get him to agree, or even listen... well, Sokka didn't want to think of the damage he could cause. Even with a full complement of Southern Warriors protecting them.

And therein lay his greatest concern. Kiviuq, for whatever reason, seemed more willing to parlay with the Southern Water Tribe Head Chieftain than with even the Avatar. That meant displaying a level of diplomacy, of pacification, that Sokka feared was beyond his skills. If Kiviuq wasn't satisfied with their answer, with the results of their investigation, then the Great Spirit would keep Sokka's father. Would attack the village. Maybe even take Amka anyway.

And his diplomacy, his argument, hinged upon the results of the interrogation. Katara and Aang had left over an hour ago, but they had heard nothing since. His anxiety increased with each passing minute.

Sokka leaned forward to peer through the window of his father's office. The sun now hung a mere thumb's width above the horizon. He chewed his lower lip, and frowned.

"It'll be alright," came Suki's voice from the doorway.

He looked up with a start. She was leaning against the wooden frame, one hand curled into a fist and pressed against the wood, as if to knock. "Can I come in?" She asked.

"Of course."

She stepped through, two heavy canvas bags slung over her shoulder, and deposited the bags on the floor. Both bags rattled softly.

"What's in there?" He asked curiously, gesturing with his chin to the bags.

"Armor. Yours, and mine." She smiled wryly. "I hope we don't need it, but it's best to be prepared."

He chuckled his mirthless agreement as Suki looked around the room, her eyes darting here and there to the great skins, the carved masks, the ceremonial decorations. As she wandered, her hands glided over the soft leather of one of the chairs that faced Hakoda's great desk.

Finally, she turned to him. "Have you spoken with Bato?"

"Yes. It's all arranged. One of his lieutenants will be here in a few minutes to discuss evacuation and safe haven for regular citizens, and then I'll be out, helping with the defense." He nodded to the bags. "Thanks for bringing my armor. You saved me a trip to my dad's house; that was time I couldn't really afford to lose."

"Don't mention it," she returned. Her eyes were on him, but there was a light to them, an understanding, as if she were seeing him in a different way.

He leaned back in his father's chair. "Have you heard from Aang or Katara?"

"We have to be patient."

"Easier said than done," he muttered under his breath.

Another wry smile crossed her lips, but she didn't say anything. Just looked at him, until he couldn't meet her eyes. He looked away.

"It suits you," she murmured, finally. His eyes flashed back to hers as she gestured around the room. "Leadership, strength. This role. All this. It suits you. You were a good choice for them."

Sokka bit back a laugh. "I'm not so sure I was a choice, so much as a lack of options."

"Spare me your false modesty. You've done well. You've earned it."

"We'll see if you still feel that way after tonight."

Suki glided around the desk to sit on the edge, just next to him. He could shift his weight, and their thighs would be touching. He refrained.

"Don't be afraid," she murmured. "You're good at this. You were made for this. Like your father." The corner of her eyes crinkled in a warm look he'd seen a thousand times before, in happier days. "Perhaps even more so."

He didn't know what to say. He looked up at her, and felt the warmth on his cheeks, and hoped she wouldn't notice.

She frowned in hesitation, biting back a question. But it slipped past her guard. "Is this what you dreamed of, before? Was this what you... what you wanted?"

"Yes," he breathed.

Suki nodded her understanding, looking around the room with keen eyes. "It's a good dream."

"I wanted you here, too... with or without the Kyoshi Warriors." For some reason, it was easier to say these things when she was looking elsewhere.

He saw a spasm of something- something- on her profile. Maybe grief, maybe longing. "I had dreams, too," she whispered. "Sometimes, I'd pretend that we lived in a little house, a cottage maybe, by the water. I'd pretend that you- that either of us- were okay with letting events pass us by, that we were happy with our little corner of the world. The place we had absolute control over making better."

"That sounds nice."

She was lost now, though, and didn't hear him, or didn't respond. Her face was still turned away. "I'd pretend that I was your wife, and you were my husband, and all the things we ever wanted before didn't matter, because we loved each other enough to let those things fall away."

He stood from his chair slowly, and stepped up to her, his hand cupping his cheek. She wasn't crying, to his relief, but he could see a glassiness in her eyes that told him she would be, if she were alone.

"But we don't," she said quietly, her eyes finally meeting his. She smiled at him, but it was sad, indulgent. "You love this. You should."

"I love you, too."

"'Too'," she whispered. "Not 'more'. It's okay," she added when his hand fell away from her cheek. "I understand. Too well, do I understand. I can't leave the Kyoshi Warriors behind. I can't be your wife, the mistress of some small house in some forgotten place. And it doesn't change how much I love you."

His hands were shaking. She leaned forward for one moment, one brief moment, to press her lips gently against his. One brief moment, suspended in time, where they could pretend like it was enough for both of them. Then she pulled away and cleared her throat, pushing off from the desk and going to the bags of armor. The moment was thoroughly, utterly destroyed when she upended the bag, grieves and pauldrons and vambraces dropping to the floor in a loud clatter.

She leaned down to pick up his chest plate, turning the beaten, fur-lined leather over in her hands. "It looks like we have a few minutes," she said almost gruffly. "Come here. I'll help you with your armor."

Sokka went to her wordlessly, soundlessly, his arms lifting as she slipped the chest plate over his head, her fingers like brush strokes on his back and shoulders as she tightened fasteners, buckled straps. She slid on his vambraces, adjusted his pauldrons, her chest brushing against him, her face inches from hers. When she was done, she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

He cleared his throat, pushing away the tightness, the constrictions that had kept him silent when all he wanted to do was to tell her she was wrong, that he would stay, or follow her, or do whatever it was she wanted as long as she would say she was his. He cleared his throat again. "How do I look?"

She smiled at him. There was love in her eyes. It broke his heart. "Like a Head Chieftain."


Their shoulders brushed as Aang and Katara made their way down the long hallway of Tokala's home. They'd left Sokka and Suki to the preparation of the village's defenses, rounding up soldiers and citizens alike and assigning them jobs to do in the few convening hours between now, and Kiviuq's arrival.

Katara took a deep breath as they approached the guards that were posted outside Amka's doors. Aang reached for her hand, gently squeezing it, before turning his attention to the guards. "We're here to interview Amka," he announced quietly to them, "at the request of Head Chieftain Hakoda, and with the permission of Councilman Tokala."

The guards exchanged a glance before turning and opening the double doors. "She's been quiet," the guard on the right murmured to Katara as she passed him. "I'm not convinced that she's moved since we left her there fifteen minutes ago."

Katara thanked him and strode into the room, Aang at her side, as the doors closed behind them.

The room was pristine, not unlike the first room Katara had interviewed Amka in. Cozy and comfortable, with plush fabrics and warm furs hanging on the walls. If Katara didn't know any better, she'd think that she were in a house in the North. Amka herself sat, straight-backed, on the edge of a cushioned chaise lounge, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her face completely expressionless.

Aang dragged two chairs from across the room and placed them in front of the Northern woman. He gestured to Katara to take a seat before settling down in his own chair. "Amka," he began, "we don't have much time. You already know what's coming. We want to help, but in order to do that, we need you to trust us with your honesty. Let us help you."

Amka said nothing. In fact, she didn't even register that he was speaking, as far as Katara could tell.

"Kiviuq will ask for you, in exchange for Head Chieftain Hakoda," Aang continued. "I don't- we don't believe in making trades like that. We hoped that, with your explanation, with your reasoning, we might be able to convince the Great Spirit to let your fate be a bit more... earthly."

Katara raised her brows at his phrasing, but Amka, once more, did not react.

"We need to know what happened. From the beginning. When you first discovered this power, up until, well... now, basically."

...

"So we can explain it to the Spirit, in the hopes that he'll understand, and grant you amnesty. And return Hakoda to us."

...

"Please, Amka, please talk to us. We're here to help you."

...

"Amka, I'm begging you, we don't have time for this."

After nearly twenty minutes of supplication, Katara lay her hand gently on Aang's arm. He stopped mid-sentence. Amka had changed neither position nor expression, nor given any indication of having heard them. "There are other ways," Katara said softly. She stood, going to the door and knocking lightly. When the door opened, she asked the guards for a basin of water. Minutes later, she glided back to her chair and sat the basin in her empty seat.

Straightening, she turned to Amka. "I understand you may be in shock, Amka," Katara explained gently. "That there is a part of you that is unwilling, or perhaps even unable, to speak." She gestured with one hand to the bowl of water in her seat. "I can use this water to ease your discomfort, perhaps jog your memory. Nothing else. It will be physically painless. Is that okay?"

At this, Amka's expression finally flickered. The woman's eyes narrowed, and Katara could practically feel Aang tensing behind her.

Katara faltered. "Is it not okay?"

Amka continued to glare, still silent.

"I don't want to do anything to you without your consent Amka... but consent requires giving approval. Preferably verbally." Katara knelt down so that she was at Amka's eye level. "Please," she said softly. "I can help you."

Amka's eyes met Katara's slowly, and they were cold, shards of blue ice. "You can't," she said, her voice surprisingly clear.

Aang leaned forward. "We can," he said earnestly. "We just need to understand-"

Amka stood suddenly, pacing away from them. "I know what you're doing. Preying on my instinct for survival."

Aang spoke firmly. "I won't condemn you to the fate an angry Spirit has in store for you. I won't. But if I'm going to convince him to let you go, I need something from you. Anything that explains why you did the things you did. Five people are dead, Amka."

"Don't use that water on me," she said quietly. "I'll tell you what you want to know," she cut in when Katara began to murmur a protest. She returned placidly to the chaise, sitting back down gracefully, as if she had just invited them to tea.

Katara and Aang waited patiently for her to speak.

Amka's shoulders were still proud, her back still straight. Her face still carefully neutral. And then, as if a spell had passed over her, she crumpled, her back bowing and her shoulders slumping. She passed one hand over her forehead. "Do either of you know how old I am?" she asked them quietly, after a while. When she looked up, her eyes were lined in red.

Both Katara and Aang shook their heads.

"I'm twenty-two," she told them. When she finally straightened, she laughed weakly at the confused expressions on their faces. "I know," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "Why does that matter? It does, though. You see, shortly after the war's end, I was sixteen years old. Marrying age for the Northern Tribe.

"My father spent my entire childhood training me to be a wife. My mother spun stories of how my handsome husband, a Northern man of substance and character, would come to my mother and father with money or land or some great power, in exchange for my hand. When it was discovered that I am a bender, my parents were..." Amka paused, looking down at her hands, lost in a memory. "Joyful. So proud. When I showed my skills as a healer- a proficient healer, powerful from the beginning- they were so excited.

"I was trained, practically from infancy, to become the perfect wife. I was led to believe that marrying the right man, the one selected for me, would make me happy, because it was the duty of a Northern man to protect and cherish his wife. To make certain that she does not go wanting.

"And then my father died in the Siege of the North. And all his carefully laid plans went to high hell. My uncle took over, and the war ended. The Fire Nation sent ambassador after ambassador to Northern doors, knocking and begging and begging and, I'm told, that the Avatar encouraged peaceful relations."

Beside Katara, Aang blanched. She reached across the space between them to place her hand on Amka's. "I'm so sorry," she whispered fervently.

Amka gently pulled her hand from Katara's, though not unkindly. "Let me continue," she murmured.

"Of course."

"When Katsuro came along- charming, handsome, charismatic Katsuro, who understood the Tribes better than any other foreigner, who respected our beliefs- my uncle, ever the politician, saw a suitable arrangement. To keep the Avatar placated with talks of peace. We'll give him Amka, perfect little Amka, so docile, so obedient, to the Fire Nation, and then who can say that the North wasn't willing to move forward? Who can tell the Fire Lord and the Avatar that the Northern Water Tribe is stuck in the past?"

"That's not what I meant by that at all," Aang breathed, anguish in his voice. "I never intended-"

"I know you didn't," Amka said abruptly. "It wasn't you. You meant a cessation of hostilities. But my uncle thought an arranged marriage would cover his bases." She shrugged sadly. "For a while, he was right."

Katara frowned sadly. "But Katsuro wasn't what he seemed."

Amka laughed again, bitterly, this time. "It isn't hard to put two and two together, even with what little information you have. A burn mark on the wall? Arguments about what his wife should and shouldn't be doing? It didn't take my uncle long, either. But..." her eyes hardened. "We were man and wife. It wasn't proper for my uncle to intervene, was it?"

"Propriety be damned," Katara snarled under her breath.

"Not in the North," Amka returned. "Not for a woman of the North. Katsuro pulled me from my home, dragged me all over the damn world and put me on display; his exotic Northern wife, as docile as a lamb. Even my bending was his to command. 'Heal this, don't heal that. A commoner?'" Amka's lips curled false contempt. "Katsuro's wife could never stoop so low. I was nothing. A servant. Less than a servant. Nothing. At least when we finally came South, he let me teach." She smiled slightly. "That was Kele's doing, actually. He begged his father to intervene on my behalf. You should have heard the argument my husband and uncle had. It was spectacular. Not that I was allowed in the room, of course. But I listened. I always listened." She fell silent, and turned away from them, her eyes trained on a shaggy white fur that hung on the far wall.

Aang shifted in his chair. "When did you learn the... bloodbending?"

"I didn't know that's what it was," she defended herself, her voice desperate. "I wasn't... that's not what I was doing. That's not what I was trying to do. I've heard about the woman- her name was Hama, yes? I'd heard about Hama. It never even occurred to me that people would think it was the same. I was healing, that's all."

"But how did you invent that technique?" Katara asked softly.

"I just... I don't know," Amka said, her voice breaking on the last word. "I learned in Yagoda's healing huts, the same as everyone else. But... I always wanted to go deeper, further. And I could. My bending is strong. If I had been allowed to learned to fight," she said slowly, "maybe I would have been stronger even than you."

Katara lifted her chin warily. "Maybe."

"It doesn't matter now," Amka muttered weakly. "My technique developed slowly, over years and years of practice. It wasn't some special epiphany. I'd heal a cut, and I'd wonder if I could go smaller, probe deeper, guide the healing process more directly. And then, next time I had to heal someone, I'd try it. It's easier at night. Easiest at the full moon, obviously... The moon was full when Katsuro died." Amka stifled a sob, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth forcefully, to quiet herself. "I never killed anyone before. Never even done damage. Only healed."

"Why did you kill him, then?" Aang asked her gently. "What was different?"

"Katsuro thought he owned me," she whispered. "Like a servant. Speak when spoken to, and never repeat what your master says behind locked doors. But a servant isn't deaf or blind or stupid, and a locked door isn't sound proof. Everyone thought Katsuro was a man cut from a different cloth... but he was a politician like all the rest. A snake. Oily, disgusting, out to make his own ends meet, at the cost of anyone who got in his way."

"How so?"

"You've heard of the Unity Act? Of course you have, it's partially why you're here, isn't it?" Amka muttered, eyes still red. "Fire Lord Zuko sent you down here to investigate Katsuro's untimely death. Surely murdered by the North to stop the Unity Act from ever coming to fruition. Would it shock you to hear that the Fire Nation is not so very far from the truth?"

Aang's brows furrowed. "It would shock me hear that. Explain."

"My uncle opposed the Unity Act with every fiber of his being. But, he would have you believe it's because he hates the Fire Nation- and he does." Amka's face twitched in anger. "What Tokala believed was that Katsuro was using this legislation to guide power back into the hands of the Fire Nation."

"In what way?" Aang's voice was hard. Katara could feel a scarcely restrained anger under the surface.

Amka crossed her legs primly, smoothing the heavy linen of her dress. "The North isn't as wealthy as my uncle would have you believe. They're fighting so hard to make the South a vassal state because the South is far more willing to reach far and wide to make ends meet. Having the South under the North's thumb would bring in enough revenue to hide one very important fact: the North can't actually afford our extravagance much longer. We hate the Fire Nation, and perhaps our hatred is justified... but when you're unwilling to trade with one third of the world's economy, revenue is hard to come by. If the North loses the South without changing trade policies, we'll be destitute within ten years. If the South signs the Unity Act, they'll be financially stable in half that time- a nation in their own right. Do you understand the position this leaves the North in?"

Katara frowned. "I'm not sure..."

"Without incoming revenue, the North will have no choice but to be less particular about who they trade with," Amka explained heavily. "And Katsuro knew this. Which is why he designed the Unity Act the way he did. It's so appealing to the South because Katsuro wanted the South to agree, so that they could be independent from the North... thereby causing the North to fall straight into the Fire Nation'a lap."

"You're telling me," Aang recounted slowly, in between measured breaths, "that the Unity Act is a ploy by the Fire Nation to gain power over the Poles?"

Amka nodded somberly. "With the scales tipped in the Fire Nation's direction, when the Unity Act is offered to the North- helmed by Katsuro, of course- do you think that the North will be able to say no?"

A vein pulsed at Aang's temple. "Was this the Fire Nation's plan, or Katsuro's?"

"Does it matter?"

"Significantly," he replied through gritted teeth.

"I honestly don't know," she admitted. "But, it was always Katsuro's intention to orchestrate the financial fall of the North, so that they could be tucked under the Fire Nation's wing. He would be, more or less, a hero twice over; the savior of the Tribes, and also the one who brought them to heel."

"So, you killed him," Katara said softly. "Why now? Why not before?"

Amka frowned. "My uncle was winning." She looked to the fuming Aang, who was struggling to keep his irritation from boiling over. "You were at the Council meeting, Avatar Aang, even following Katsuro's death. Did it seem like the Unity Act was going to pass?"

"No," came Aang's gruff reply. "Well, I don't know... it was difficult to say one way or the other."

"Katsuro didn't share your optimism. He also didn't share my uncle's scruples; during our argument the night before I... before he died, he threatened to harm Tokala."

Katara straightened. This was the information that they needed; this could save Amka's life. "How? I need details."

"I don't know," Amka replied. "He said a myriad of things- he was furious. His threats ranged from killing Kele in an 'accident' to distract my uncle, to killing Tokala himself. He didn't have a specific plan... but that doesn't mean he wouldn't have done it. He was clever."

"Why didn't you go immediately your uncle?"

Amka glared at her. "He sent me to my room- like a child. Posted guards at my door. I didn't know what he was planning. The only door that didn't have a guard was the door between our two rooms. What did he have to fear from me?" she asked bitterly. "I was his wife. A servant he could order away. But, I could hear him speaking through the door with one of his advisers. When the room fell silent, I went in. He was still there, writing a false letter to Kele to invite him to tea, at my request." She bared her teeth in anger. "He would use me as an excuse to murder my own cousin. I confronted him. We fought- but it was a full moon. I kept my bending around his heart and lungs, didn't let it beat until he lay still on the floor." Her fists clenched in her lap. "I kept the letter. It's in that drawer- over there- if you want proof. I asked Kele to help me hide the truth, to help protect me." Amka's eyes met Katara's. "I know I should be sorry. I've never killed anyone- and I never wanted to. But when he died, I... It was the only time in my entire life that I've ever been completely in control."


Aang was boiling as the doors to Kele's chambers shut behind him. Katara practically had to guide him from the room by the arm.

After Amka had finished speaking, Katara had thanked her, even resting one hand sympathetically on the Northern woman's shoulders as she promised to do what she could for her.

Amka had shown them the letter, even told them which of Katsuro's servants could confirm her story. They had gone immediately from Amka's chambers to Tokala's. There, after much prodding and raised voices, Katara finally, through sheer willpower, forced Tokala to admit the truth about the North's financial solvency- or lack thereof. Another quick stop in Kele's chambers had left them with a story that corroborated Amka's.

"We need to speak with Sokka," Katara said urgently as she dragged Aang down the long hallway. "We don't have any time to waste."

He pulled his arm from her hand firmly. "I can walk on my own."

She gave him a sympathetic look before pulling him to her, resting his forehead against hers. "I know you're upset," she whispered to him. "But, we need to look at this clearly."

"If Zuko had any knowledge-"

"Let's not assume the worst."

He pulled away to pace the hallway. "How can I not, Katara? You heard Amka. How could Zuko not know?"

"We'll find out, Aang, I promise," she murmured. "But let's not jump to conclusions." She smiled at him weakly, a transparent effort to ease his mood. "It's usually you saying that, not me."

He tried not to scowl. He knew she was right.

"We'll find out the truth, Aang. We always do. But for now, we need to focus on keeping Amka out of Kiviuq's hands- and getting my father back." Katara turned down the hallway, pausing at a window that cast long shadows from the sun, whose bottom now skimmed the top of the horizon. She hurried past it.

"How in the Spirit and Mortal World's are we going to get a giant, furious Spirit-bird to not attack us long enough to listen to this absolute mess of international politics?" Aang asked plaintively to her retreating back. "How are we going to keep him from killing Amka, or dragging her into the Spirit World? How are we going to get your father back?" He chased after her when he saw that she had no intention of stopping.

"The way we do everything else," she told him firmly, hiding the fear that Aang knew was just below the surface. "Together."


A/N: you guys I'm so sorry about the week long delay. Work went bananas and then the holiday came up. Truly sorry! But I haven't abandoned it, we're still moving forward.

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