Chapter 14

Her father was snatched away from her that evening.

The girl had just finished setting bowls and chopsticks at the table. The chopsticks were cheaply made, the varnish already worn off after the first few uses. None of the bowls matched. One was fashioned from bamboo, surprisingly lightweight, its edges worn smooth and dark by years of use and the fingers of its previous owners. Another was stout and thick with a chipped lip, the ceramic dyed the color of muddied rust. The third was her favorite—the body of the bowl was thin, yet not delicate, and the faded cobalt waves painted on its side reminded her of home.

Her mother had just placed a steaming pot of suaasat stew on the table—the whale meat, which no market carried in Ba Sing Se, substituted with cubes of pig chicken—when men in dark robes burst through the door of their home.

The men—Dai Li, they called themselves—filed in through the narrow doorway, filling the small kitchen like a dark wave. Her heart dropped when she recognized some of the men as the ones who had questioned the boy in the courtyard.

They demanded her father, Nilak, by name.

As one of the men listed the reasons for arresting her father—spying, sedition, treason—her father's body began to shake like a pennant in a furious wind. His proud wolf tail trembled, and his shoulders bowed under an invisible weight.

The girl had never seen her father afraid before. He was brave and strong. He was her shelter. When he held her and kept her safe, nothing could touch her.

Until today, she believed that meant that nothing could touch him.

But she was wrong.

Her father protested that he was innocent, that there must be some misunderstanding.

But the men had been given his name. There was no other Water Tribe man named Nilak in this district of Ba Sing Se.

It was then that the girl knew the boy in the courtyard had lied.

The Dai Li took her father away with yelling and scuffling. After they left, the door of their home slammed shut. The splintered panel of wood bounced against the doorframe, like the staccato of a heart that beat slower and slower until it finally stopped.

Years later, the girl would remember that the stew on the table had gone cold. She would remember that her mother had collapsed on the street outside their home, clawing at her braids, sobbing and wailing her father's name.

The girl would remember running down the street, crying for her father as the jail wagon trundled away. She would remember her father's face through the bars, the gleam of terror in his eyes, his voice crying her name, as the wagon grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

She would remember tripping over her own feet and scraping her palms and knees on the stones in the dirt path, her anguished screams echoing against the uncaring walls around her.


Aang stood before the door of the meeting tent. Behind the overlapping flaps of caribou pelt lay his fate.

The only other time he had felt this apprehensive, with his feet in a cold sweat and his heart in his throat, was right before he kissed Katara on the roof of a submarine. Even facing Ozai on the day of Sozin's Comet had been different. Not that the prospect of dying in battle and failing to prevent yet another genocide was a trivial matter, but he had already accepted whatever outcome destiny decided to hand him. It was one thing to dance with destiny, and quite another to expose his tender heart.

The terror that he might never see Katara again, that he might not get another chance, had propelled him to grip her shoulder and kiss her on the submarine. But this time was different. It was the same terror, but flipped on its head. It was the terror that he was about to face the woman who no longer loved him or trusted him, but whom he still loved with the depth of an entire lost people. It was the terror that he was about to let her go, to clip the tie that tethered them together—tethered her, unwillingly—and loose what remained of their bond from his hands, watching it trail away as emptiness took its place in his heart.

The fear of losing Katara puzzled him, though. He had already lost her months ago. How was it possible to lose her again?

But stepping through the tent door didn't mean he was about to lose Katara, he realized. He was about to lose a part of himself—the part of him that cherished Katara and held a special place for her in his heart. That part of himself was the source of the greatest hope and joy he'd ever known, as well as some of his deepest heartache and pain. And once lost, that part of himself would be replaced with nothing—a dead hollowness. He could not afford to mourn what he was about to lose, because mourning meant clinging, still, to the tattered scraps of what was left of his attachment to Katara.

No, Aang had to detach himself from Katara completely, in every cold and impersonal sense of the word. He had no other choice.

He straightened the collar of his formal robes—he had hurriedly thrown them on after his meeting with Yangchen—and adjusted his beaded mala necklace. Deep breath. One, two. Then he pushed open the door flaps and ducked inside.

All heads turned toward Aang when he entered. He immediately noted the change in seating arrangements—the Water Tribers did not cluster on the same side of the circle in a blue monolith as they had yesterday. Instead, they were scattered between the dignitaries from the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. Hakoda was flanked on either side by his two children. Minister Tae and her assistants, decked out in rich reds and golds, perched primly on the cushions next to Katara. Opposite the Fire Nation emissaries, the pompous Minister Shi and his lone assistant had situated themselves by Sokka, their clothing even more voluminous and elaborate than yesterday's, as if they were birds fluffing their feathers to outdo their red-and-gold rivals. Finally, the Water Tribe elders closed the circle by filling the remaining seats between the two foreign delegations.

"So the Avatar has decided to show up," Tae said. Her smile, though outwardly friendly, was designed to pierce him and slide under his skin. "So good of you to join us."

Aang was sure everyone could see the redness that flushed his face. His discomfort deepened even further when he saw that the only seat left open was between Hakoda and his daughter, Katara.

As he lowered himself onto the cushion next to Katara, his skin prickled with the stares of everyone in the tent. Everyone but Katara's, that was. She sat with shoulders rigid and back stiff, her gaze fixed straight ahead.

"Thank you for coming, Avatar Aang," Hakoda said, greeting him with genuine warmth.

Aang was thankful that no matter what the state of his relationship was with Katara, Hakoda still received him as a friend and ally.

Hakoda turned to address the rest of the assembly. "The purpose of today's meeting is to discuss our strategy for negotiating with the pirates of the South Sea so that they will cease attacking foreign merchant ships that enter our tribe's waters."

"We should come to the negotiation table with a display of force," Tae said briskly. "It will be no trouble for the Fire Nation to assemble a small fleet to cow those thugs into obeying our decrees."

"The Earth Kingdom can send a fleet as well, with no skin off our backs," Shi interjected, refusing to be upstaged by Tae. "We should ensure that the size of the fleets is equal between all parties, to avoid giving the pirates the impression that any one of us is weaker or stronger than the others."

Next to Aang, Katara clenched the hem of her tunic in her hands, which trembled with barely suppressed anger. Her face was lined with the pain of a childhood marred by violence and loss. He longed to reach out and lay a comforting hand over hers, but he knew his gesture of support would be rejected. So he kept his hands in his lap.

On his other side, Hakoda reared back as if the ministers' suggestions had raised his hackles. The Water Tribe chieftain raised a hand to silence Tae and Shi. "There will be no fleets and no displays of force," he said, his face stony.

Tae pressed her lips together before turning to Hakoda with a condescending simper. "Then how do you suggest that we convince the pirates to adhere to our terms? Surely you don't expect them to be swayed if we just ask nicely."

"I apologize, Chief Hakoda, for overstepping your mandate that prohibits foreign military vessels from entering the South Sea," Shi said, casting a self-satisfied glance at Tae before giving Hakoda an ingratiating nod. "But I suggest making an exception to ensure that our mission succeeds."

Shi's toadying had about as much effect on Hakoda as a droplet of water on an iceberg. "There will be no exceptions. The prohibition is not some arbitrary mandate," Hakoda said. His eyes were cold and hard as his gaze passed between Shi and Tae. "I believe you are both aware of the reason why."

Tae looked as if she had swallowed a sour lychee nut. "Then what do you propose we do, Chief Hakoda?" she asked stiffly.

"I, along with the village elders, will meet with the pirates," Hakoda said. "We will bring several warriors from our tribe as an armed guard. The pirates do not attack Water Tribe ships, so my guess is that they are the descendants of Water Tribers who were displaced during the raids several generations ago. They are more likely to meet us with open ears if we send a delegation made up of Water Tribers only."

Shi's shoulders shook silently, but his laughter was devoid of mirth. "You are asking us to trust a group of Water Tribe leaders to meet with Water Tribe pirates? To do what? To negotiate whatever passes for a treaty among your people? Or is that just a front for devising more ways to lighten Earth Kingdom ships of their cargo?"

Tae's face darkened, and her rouged lips flattened into a thin line. "You are asking too much of us, Chief Hakoda. We are already making ourselves vulnerable by subjecting to an escort of Water Tribe ships when entering your waters. And now you demand our blind trust as you meet with pirates who are also your kinsmen? It is too much!"

The air in the tent grew tense, as rigid as the impasse between the Water Tribe leaders and the trade ministers.

"Vulnerability is not the same thing as weakness," Aang said into the silence. His face grew warm as the glare of attention shifted to him—he was still not used to the intense scrutiny he attracted as the Avatar, no matter how many high-pressure negotiations he had mediated.

"Trusting another person makes you vulnerable, that much is true," he continued. "But if that person is worthy of your trust…" Aang faltered, stumbling over the word trust. "…being vulnerable is a strength, not a weakness."

He sneaked a furtive glance at Katara, who was studying the backs of her hands. She seemed to be lost in thought. But from the way she rolled the fur trim of her tunic between her fingers, tense but controlled, he could tell she was listening to every word he said.

Who was he trying to fool? Who was he to talk about trust? He had tried to hide his shame like a guilty child sweeping the broken pieces of a conch shell trumpet behind a cabinet, where no one would see. Except Katara had seen. She had caught a glimpse. And that glimpse was enough to destroy her trust in him and their relationship.

She must think him a hypocrite for talking about trust.

"I have personally known Chief Hakoda for several years," Aang went on, "and I have fought by his side. He is one of the most trustworthy people I know. If he gives you his word, you can be sure that he will follow through."

Shi puffed out his mustache, apparently not satisfied with Aang's reasoning. "If he gives us his word? What about the word of King Kuei, when I tell you that the Earth Kingdom warships we propose to send are strictly on a mission of peace?"

Hakoda took a measured breath in and out, his clenched jaw the only sign of his exasperation. "Our tribe has no wish to relive the traumas we experienced during the war, nor is there any plausible reason for our waters to be overrun by armed ships from other nations," he said sternly. "That is completely different from trusting that the leaders of this tribe will negotiate with the pirates in good faith.

"I give you my word as the chieftain of the Southern Water Tribe. My word is no less worthy than the word of Earth King Kuei or Fire Lord Zuko."

A tsk of impatience escaped from Tae as she shook out the wide sleeves of her dark red robes. "I insist on attending the talks with a small unit of firebenders. Since the Fire Nation has a crucial stake in the outcome of these negotiations, we deserve a place at the table."

At Tae's words, the sharp intake of breath by every Water Triber in the tent hissed like a collective gasp.

Then the air exploded into a chaos of noise as everyone tried to speak at once.

Elder Ikiak ground his fist into the rug. "Do you think nothing of bringing—"

"You insist? You insist?" Pakku said, his voice rising with each word.

"–firebender soldiers into our land?"

"We have a right and a prerogative to the negotiations—" Tae began loudly, but her words were lost in the din.

Katara's eyes flashed with anger. "This is our tribe!" she said fiercely. "You can't just come in and do whatever you want!"

Kanna's hands shook—whether from the horror of reliving memories of her home being torched or from rage, Aang couldn't be sure. But when she spoke, her words were steady. "We cannot tolerate your blatant disregard, Minister Tae. Do you not realize—"

Tae's voice surged over the others. "—as equal partners in this endeavor, you must allow us to—"

"Absolutely not!" Hakoda roared.

Silence fell once again. The air itself was frozen as if bent into ice.

Finally, Tae shifted her arms, pulling them closer to herself ever so slightly—an unconscious gesture that was protective, perhaps even defensive. "Then the Fire Nation refuses to back this plan," she said coolly. "Either we are present at the negotiations, or we are not. And if we are not, we will not abide by the terms of any agreement you reach, and you may consider our trade relations with the Southern Water Tribe terminated."

Aang inhaled through his teeth. He had expected some resistance from Shi and Tae, but he hadn't counted on Tae's stubbornness about being included in the negotiations—and not only that, her audacity at insisting on bringing firebenders with her.

But he also knew that her ultimatum was a bluff. For the most part. Ending trade relations with the Southern Water Tribe would hurt the Fire Nation. But a strong sense of honor was deeply ingrained into the people of the Fire Nation, and pride and honor were two sides of the same coin. Tae might come around eventually, but not without a great deal of diplomatic gymnastics and extraordinary attempts to smooth her ruffled feathers.

And there was always the possibility that she may not come around at all.

If Tae refused to agree to the plan, Aang supposed he could go over her head and appeal to Zuko. But Zuko was still a relatively new monarch, and a young one at that. In addition, he had come to power under rather…unconventional...circumstances. His enemies sought to discredit him, and his allies sought to use him. The politics of undermining a senior minister's authority to obtain Zuko's blessing could become very, very complicated.

Aang's heart thundered in his chest as he prepared to speak. He was balancing on a knife's edge. He had to convince the Fire Nation minister to agree to Hakoda's plan, a delicate operation in itself, without undermining Hakoda's authority, which Tae and Shi had tried to trample so many times already.

"Minister Tae," Aang began. He cursed the way his adolescent voice cracked when he spoke. "I know how important it is for the Fire Nation to establish strong trade relations with the Southern Water Tribe. But I also know that it can be difficult to trust people who you suspect may not have your interests at heart."

Tae only sniffed, but she didn't interrupt. Aang took that as a good sign.

"So I offer you this: if you agree to the proposal that only the leaders of the Southern Water Tribe will meet with the pirates, you may hold me, Avatar Aang, fully responsible for the outcome. If negotiations fail or if they are misrepresented, I will not rest until I set things right—to the Fire Nation's satisfaction."

Tae turned her gaze on Aang, her eyes glinting as hard as amber. "Do I have your word?" she said.

The Fire Nation trade minister, with her two assistants who attended her in seamless silence, made Aang uncomfortable. Even though he was the Avatar, he didn't expect people to treat him with respect or accept everything he said without question. Nevertheless, the people of the Earth Kingdom and the Water Tribes tended to act that way around him more often than not.

But the Fire Nation was different. When speaking with a Fire Nation official—or with anyone from the Fire Nation, really— Aang could never be sure of what they thought of him. For one hundred years, the propaganda that the Air Nomads were vicious enemies who had to be destroyed was drilled into the mind of every Fire Nation child as an unquestioned truth. The Avatar was not seen as a revered hero who strove to keep the world in balance. Instead, the Avatar was the ultimate threat to the peace and prosperity with which the Fire Nation blessed the world.

After the end of the war, Aang was usually treated with some degree of respect by Fire Nation citizens, though sometimes they would slide in a snide comment or two. But he found ugly words easier to handle than the veneer of respect. At least he knew what he was dealing with when he faced hatred and resentment. But more often, he was greeted with bows and cordial smiles, the front of politeness that the Fire Nation sense of honor demanded.

Aang was the last surviving Air Nomad. He was also the Avatar who had defeated the leader of Tae's nation in a way that could not possibly be more humiliating and dishonoring—by removing Ozai's ability to firebend. So when Tae asked Aang if he would give her his word, he was not sure what she thought his word was worth.

Perhaps she did not think his word was worth anything at all.

But he told her, "Yes." He hoped that she would find his word to be enough.

Tae only continued to stare at him. After a long, uncomfortable moment, she nodded slowly. "Then I agree to Chief Hakoda's plan."

Hakoda's face softened into an expression of relief. But the battle was only half won.

The Water Tribe chieftain turned to the Earth Kingdom minister. "Minister Shi, do you agree to this plan?"

But Shi huffed and shrugged his shoulders. "What does it matter if I agree to your plan or not? By barring me and Minister Tae from the negotiations, you can do whatever you like between you and your kinsmen, and we would be none the wiser. To agree to this plan would be nothing more than a formality."

"Whether or not the pirates have Water Tribe ancestry is not our main concern," Hakoda said evenly, though his brow darkened at Shi's poorly veiled insinuations. "But they will be more likely to meet if our delegation is made up of Water Tribe members only. I am asking you and Minister Tae for your assent. Even if you are not present at the negotiations, approaching the pirates with a united purpose will make us appear stronger, more confident, and unlikely to waver. But if we are divided, if we are isolated in our suspicion and distrust of each other, our efforts will be weakened and we are more likely to fail."

Hakoda swept his eyes over the circle, from Sokka, seated next to him; to his mother and the elders, across from him; and, finally, to Katara, at Aang's side. Long years of sorrow from losing those he loved were etched into the lines of his face. Regret at separating himself from those who remained behind deepened the furrows of his brow.

"Unity gives us strength. But isolation weakens us, breaks us apart," Hakoda said quietly. "This is a truth that I am familiar with, more than I would like to admit."

Shi snorted, a rude sound that punctured the reflective mood of Hakoda's words. "That's rich, coming from the people who cannot trust that the Earth Kingdom means no harm by sending a naval fleet into the South Sea!"

Kanna leveled her gaze at Shi. Her wizened face was impassive, unmoved by his outburst. "The matter of foreign warships in our waters is not an issue of trust," she said, in that slow and patient tone of someone who has seen countless years go by, for whom time passed differently. "It is about the scars of war that run generations deep. It is about the sovereignty we hold over our own land, which has been violated far too many times.

"The Earth Kingdom has suffered invasions during the war, as well. How would the people of Ba Sing Se feel if they found Fire Nation troops at their doorstep? Do you think your citizens would welcome platoons of soldiers and firebenders into the city with open arms?"

Shi said nothing. His eyes watched the flames in the firepit, his face unreadable.

Aang heard Katara clear her throat beside him. "Minister Shi," she said, "we ask you to trust our wisdom in dealing with people who may share a common past with us. We ask you to trust us to handle the negotiations in a way that deals with everyone's interests fairly. Is this too much to ask?"

For a heart-stopping moment, Aang was afraid that Shi would say that it was, in fact, too much to ask.

But thankfully, the Earth Kingdom minister nodded. "I agree to Chief Hakoda's plan for the negotiations," he said shortly.

Aang's limbs turned to jelly as tension left his body. An almost palpable sigh of relief echoed through the tent.

He felt more than saw Katara's posture soften beside him. Even though she didn't look at him, her head turned in his direction. Even through the barrier of lost love and broken trust, they still sensed one another. They were still drawn to each other.

Aang glanced at Katara out of the corner of his eye. He wished he could trace the graceful curve of her nose, cradle her shoulders in his hands. Hold her in his arms again, feel her heart fluttering against him, full of her love. A wave of tenderness and longing washed over him and threatened to drown him in its current. Right before he entered the meeting tent, he thought he had been ready to let Katara go. But the memory of her arms around him in the ice caves, the memory of her warmth so close, was freshly imprinted into his body.

And now, being close to her again, even with the awkward distance between them, almost made him forget why he needed to let her go.

Almost. Because nothing could make him forget the way she pushed him away in the ice caves and fled from him.

But Aang was torn between wanting to hang on to his love for her and accepting the bitter truth that her feelings for him had died long ago. He needed to let her go for the world's sake, and for his own sake.

He forced his eyes away from Katara's face. His fingernails dug into his palms so hard that his eyes watered. I need to let her go. I need to set the past down and walk away. I have no choice.

But he couldn't. He couldn't do it. He dangled off the edge of a precipice, hanging on by only the tips of his fingers. He knew he had to let go. Trying to hang on was useless when he had no way to climb back up. But he was afraid that once he let go, he would fall and fall and fall into a darkness with no end.

"It is settled, then," Hakoda said. The shadows beneath his eyes seemed to lighten, and his warm smile had lost its guarded stiffness. "I will contact the pirates and arrange to meet with them. Elders Ahnah and Ikiak will accompany me, along with several warriors."

Tae tapped a lacquered nail on her forearm. "If I may make a suggestion, Chief Hakoda, I advise bringing benders with you." She looked between Pakku and Katara. "You have several waterbenders in your village, do you not?"

Hakoda nodded. "That is an excellent idea, Minister Tae. Most of our waterbenders are construction workers from the Northern tribe, and they are only here until we are done rebuilding the wall. Pakku and Katara are the only waterbenders who call the Southern tribe home, and they are both masters as well. They will join the delegation. They can demonstrate their waterbending by transporting us to the meeting place, so the pirates will understand that we are the ones holding the reins."

"That is all very well and good," Tae said, "but you will need to do more than that."

"A show of bending force is out of the question—"

Tae held up a hand. "You probably think I can't engage in diplomacy without resorting to violent tactics, Chief Hakoda." The corners of her mouth pulled into a wry smile. "I suppose I haven't given you much reason to think otherwise.

"But what I mean is that if you want your demonstration of bending to hold water, the pirates must also believe that waterbenders are a permanent part of your tribe. If the pirates ever decide to break their end of the deal, their treachery cannot go unanswered. If you do not have a waterbender who can retaliate right away, then the pirates will have called your bluff. They will never take you seriously again.

"Most of your waterbenders are construction workers," Tae continued, "and they will return home after their work here is done. You need waterbenders who can not only fight, but who will also commit themselves to serving the Southern Water Tribe. Are Pakku and Katara willing to do this?"

Pakku exchanged a brief look with Kanna. "I have married the love of my life," he declared. "Even though I spent most of my life in the North Pole, the Southern Water Tribe is my home now."

"Yes, yes," Tae said impatiently. "But who will take your place after you pass on? Young Katara, here, only moved back to the South Pole four months ago." She turned her gaze back to Hakoda, but not before flicking her eyes between Aang and Katara. "What if she and the Avatar choose to reconcile and resume their relationship? Or what if she meets someone else, someone who does not reside in the Southern tribe? What if she decides that she wants to spend her days outside of this village? Who will be Pakku's successor if she leaves?"

Tae's words, so casually spoken, sent Aang reeling. The Fire Nation minister talked about his relationship with Katara, Katara's choice of future husband, and Pakku's eventual death with no more concern than if she was discussing the terms of a trade deal. It was surreal to hear the broken status of his relationship with Katara stated as something that they could mend if they simply agreed to do so. He almost felt like he was hearing the minister talk about someone else. But at the same time, Tae's words shot through his heart, gouging a hole that bled with a grief so searing that he almost gasped. The grief that still bound him to his love for Katara. He was hanging onto the precipice by the barest claw of his fingers, and his grief over what they used to have between them was the only thing still holding him there.

Beside him, Katara had gone completely still. Her face pale and her lips bloodless, she looked like she had just seen a ghost. Was she remembering the flame he had called up so close to her—too close? Or was she horrified at the thought that Pakku would die someday? From what he remembered, her relationship with the prickly waterbending master was collegial, but not warm. But perhaps they had struck up a close friendship during her return to the South Pole.

Aang would never know what she was thinking at that moment. Perhaps it was none of those things.

"I will be Pakku's successor," Katara said abruptly.

Everyone in the tent shifted their attention to her—breathless, waiting.

"I will stay in the Southern Water Tribe. This is my home. I will stay to protect my home and my people." She sat up straighter, holding her head high. "I have no reason to leave. This is where I belong."

Aang knew the last few words were meant for him. Any inkling that Katara might still feel something for him was completely snuffed out. Her decision to fulfill this duty to her tribe bound her to her village for life. And she had made that decision firmly and without hesitation.

He had what he needed, at last, to let Katara go. Finally, he was able to loosen his grip on the precipice, feel his fingers slip from the edge.

Finally, Aang was able to let go of Katara completely.

He let go, and he fell.


Author's note:

Increased the rating to T for future chapters.

If you liked the politics and the kataangst (😅) I would love to hear your thoughts!

Next chapter in two weeks ✌️