Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender
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For over a century, the Air Temples were forgotten to time, silent and absent—devoid of the presence of Air. The winds that breezed through and around each temple were dull and bland, mournful and lifeless, a terrible reminding symbol of its people who seemed more legendary than real, a symptom of a callous Fire Lord's cruelty and greed. Across the other three nations, the old Air Nomads were whispered about, but no one understood the depths of the loss. Only those old enough—exceedingly few—realized the fundamental imbalance plaguing the world, but they could never comprehend the void of Air.
Only someone of Air could feel Air's lack of presence, could hear the incessant mourning, the numb grief singing across the heavens in a melody of high and low tones, carried by the winds. The sky yearned for its children to be nurtured in its bosom, to travel across its body from one corner of the earth to another, charting and mapping for the delight of discovery and recognition—a direct blessing and gift compared to the violation of the Great Comet raping its body.
The old Air Nomads burned under the Great Comet and would never return, but they were not gone. They lived in the forever-living Avatar, enduring as his spiritual ancestors, their memory provoking his endurance in restoring all that he could.
Each Air Temple was pristine in its brilliance, a beacon of civilization and enlightenment superior to the other three nations; its towers pierced the clouds and reached toward the impossible, relaying a tangible direction to strive; its bridges connected mountains with other mountains, a walkway for fearless sky-walkers, who, as the legends say, jumped from one mountain to the next before climbing the sky, their ancestral domain, to reach out and brush Agni's hand.
The Airball courts, with their pillars and posts, awaited eager young Airbenders yearning to prove themselves in the ultimate game of balance and dexterity; the fountains awaited the searching hands wading through its tranquil waves, followed by whispers of fortune bestowed upon those in need; the bedrooms awaited their occupants, young and old, uniform but individual; the meditation hall awaited its monks and nuns pursuing enlightenment, managing to block out the numerous sounds of airbending children and sky bison echoing through the air; the statues awaited their seekers of history, the monuments of a past eternally lived; the murals awaited their observers marveling and critiquing in an effort to straddle understanding; the great libraries, the envy of all but Wan Shi Tong, awaited their scholars and learners, the students determined for knowledge and philosophy; the stables awaited their sky bison; the kitchens awaited to nurture and mold the renowned fruit pies that sold outrageously in the Earth Kingdom; the halls awaited the spoken words that bounced off its walls, reaching other Airbenders in the vicinity; the inner sanctuaries awaited their disciples devoted to learning Air's most fundamental techniques, bending forms often mastered after years of control and practice; and the smooth, polished stone awaited light footsteps to zoom across, carefree and delighted in the height of the sky.
But wait still would each Air Temple—for there was only one of Air.
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Aang opened his eyes from his meditation, the familiar exhaustion in his spirit still there. He was past feeling surprised or worried about his consistent failures for peaceful meditation, nonetheless finding peace itself. There was only a distant recognition, a resignation of the inevitable. Still, he devoted himself to his sacred practice.
It was his routine, his permanent bodily act to retain connection with his people. Over a century ago, his people breathed the same air flowing into and out of his lungs, and when he meditated, inhaling and exhaling, it brought them closer—even when they were so far away, gone forever, resting in the Gardens of the Dead, a place he could visit if he wished but found himself unable to.
He had tried. He had entered the Spirit World several times, each time more determined than the last to enter the Gardens of the Dead and gaze upon his people, speak with them, and feel the joy that had been foreign to him since his Awakening. But upon his approach to the Gardens of the Dead, a sickening sensation spread through him each time, for it wasn't real, not real-real. It was only a reminder—a permanent reminder—that they were gone and would be forever, never to breathe the air he so cherished, never to live the wisdom that he remembered, and never to make the air sing, cleansing it of its mournful tune.
One time he stopped at the boundary of the Gardens and gazed from afar at the assembly of all those who came before, people he had somehow encountered in his past lifetimes, but he found himself unable to cross the threshold. It was too painful to encounter his people in the Gardens when they should be in the Mortal Realm, speaking with him there, where he could feel their words and actions against his flesh, unlike the transient, real-but-not-real sensations in the Immortal Realm.
But they were never coming back. It became clear, for the first time, truly and utterly, when he began restoring the Air Temples after the Great War.
When he was young, surrounded by his friends, an invaluable distraction, it had been too easy to delude himself into thinking that he was on a sabbatical from the Southern Air Temple, even after he saw the evidence of what transpired at his people's domains a century previously, and the only reason he never encountered his fellow Air Nomads was the nomadic nature of Air, always on the move, never staying in one place, impossible to track down and find—unless you were Sozin. The only way to handle the unbelievable changes unleashed by Sozin was to not think about it, ignore it, focus on the Great War, master the elements, and stop Ozai before Sozin's Comet returned. So, that was his strategy, and it was an excellent strategy, shortsightedness aside, for it worked. The only reason he defeated Ozai and ended the Great War was that of the distractions he forced on himself. But when the massive presence of the Great War vanished, there was a void, and that which had been lurking at the back of his mind surged to the front—and stayed.
Aang missed the boy he was, that incomprehension of Life, the ability to forget and focus on the inconsequential, playing the games of his people rather than saying the names of his people, laughing rather than crying, and it was never more apparent than when he returned to the Southern Air Temple a few years after the Great War. Before his return, he had convinced himself that he would be okay, that he could handle it and retain his calm and balance. He already knew what to expect; he had already seen the worst of the evidence of his situation.
But upon returning to the one place he could claim as home, he was alone—and alone he remained because there was no one to welcome him but the mournful winds. There were no Katara and Sokka to distract him and promise him unfulfillable promises, and he shattered, pieces of him breaking away, dying, and he would never get those pieces back. It was a permanent loss.
"In order to be anything, you must cast aside parts of yourself," Gyatso once told him, eyes steady but gentle. "You must familiarize yourself with loss. To cast aside such parts of yourself is a mournful but enlightening act—a necessary one."
Always confused by such a notion, Aang would say: "But that doesn't make sense! Why do you want to be anything but who you are?"
Gyatso was always so patient. "To reach enlightenment, my bright and curious pupil, you must refine yourself and your mind, which means scattering that which is unnecessary and foul. Not everything is good. We liberate ourselves from the selfish desires and impulses that constrain so many. First, you must accept that not everything of yourself is worth preserving. You must lose that which you fear to lose. Only then can you be you."
"But I don't want to lose. I don't like loss, Gyatso. It's wrong; it's evil."
"Loss is something you will never lose, Aang. It is what it means to live and experience, to grow and mature. Do you want to stay a child forever?"
"Of course! I'm great the way I am! Being a kid is the best!"
"And you should enjoy your time as a child—the natural cycle of mortality. One day you will realize what I speak of, and you will understand the decisions you must confront."
"But I don't know how to do that, Gyatso."
"Don't worry, Aang. I will teach you when the time is right."
But Gyatso never got the time to instill in him such understanding because Sozin robbed him of it, and Aang was left adrift in the shattered pieces of himself. He wished he paid more attention to Gyatso's teachings, and he felt too raw to go ask him in the Gardens of the Dead. He was alone, except for Appa and Momo, but it wasn't the same.
Eventually, so desperate for help, going out of his mind in grief, Aang managed to summon Roku, who understood implicitly and only sat with him, silent but present as he mourned. And he mourned everything—the fact he was The Avatar and the last of Air, never to feel another's airbending energy besides Appa's; his old life in which everything was okay and decent; his people; his culture; Gyatso; Kuzon; the Bumi he had known; all the lives that were lost while he was asleep in the Iceberg, ignorant of how his disappearance affected the world he was supposed to protect; and the life that he should have lived, how he had wanted to live his life, the one not mired by Sozin's evil and his identity as The Avatar.
Eventually, he found the strength to complete what he set out to do—give his fellow Air Nomads their proper burials that had been denied them for over a century. It was the first step in restoring the Southern Air Temple—and all the Air Temples—to the glory it once embodied.
He delicately gathered all the remains of his kin that he could find throughout the Temple, gently handling the countless scorched, blackened, and cracked skeletons of his old friends and even the newly born children, and set them on the pyre at the very top of the Temple. The sky was dark, the air itself stale as it realized how traumatic the event was for him.
With a simple flick of his wrist, the pyre became alight with flames, but Aang was there to watch his people burn this time. The fire crackled through the air, and visions molested his mind like an inexperienced lover, his eyes ravished by visions of Sozin's armies viciously murdering his people, burning them alive and laughing as they stepped over corpses over a hundred years ago. Fire was ever-present as the screams of his people howled in the wind, a release of the bodies' pain and memories, settling in his soul, traumatizing him more than anything ever had, even when he had first seen Gyatso's corpse.
Even though thick, harsh, and bitter tears blurred his vision, he performed the ritually flawlessly, refusing to allow his grief to ruin his people's final rights. Swinging each arm forward, the ashes of his people slowly rose in the air, dancing in the murky-colored sky. He turned and started to rotate his hands with his arms going level with his shoulders. The air began to whip around, lashing out gently as it gathered power, blurring together faster and faster until it became a tornado.
Aang watched as the ashes became one with the wind itself and knew that the ceremony was about to end. As he pulled his arms into his chest and the air slowed down slightly, Aang curled his hands into fists and slammed his hands on the ground with a roar of emotional effort. The air rushed below him and swirled underneath his body for just a second before it exploded outward, dispersing into the open sky.
He stared upwards, tears spilling down his cheeks as he saw nothing. There was no grand impact as there should have been, no incredible monument of his brethren from the Southern Air Temple across the sky; all was silent, and there was no acknowledgment by the world that he had righted a malicious evil. His hands shook, and he tried to imagine the spirits of his murdered people at rest, ethereal in the heavens, but he couldn't, causing him to choke on a deep wail of emotional upheaval. He yearned to join his people, but he never would, no matter how much he wanted to. While they somehow found restful peace deep in the sky's bowels, he was forever tethered to the earth, confined as The Avatar.
Aang hoped that their rightful places in the Gardens of the Dead were found, for he was too much of a coward to go to the Gardens of the Dead and see for himself.
The only evidence left of the event was the charred pyre, and Aang stared, eyes raw, at the small gusts of wind that occasionally brushed against him in comfort. "It wasn't your time," he whispered, his breathing as chaotic as his heart. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This is all I can do. Goodbye."
Aang looked at the still-smoking pyre and punched his fist at it. The air around him surged forward, blasting the pyre apart with devastating power, and with a wave of his hand, the pieces of the pyre were swept off the mountain by a brief gust of wind.
He stood silently for a long time, staring at the nonexistence all around him, his horror and grief growing, intermixing. There were now no bodies in the Temple, no physical reminder that a thriving civilization once lived, breathed, experienced, philosophized, and understood. There was no evidence; there was nothing.
Because Aang burned their bodies—just as Sozin did.
He broke down again, too horrified and guilty for words, every intentional and unintentional boundary that he had ever erected to keep himself from succumbing to the unimaginable grief shattering like ice, leaving him trapped in the frigid mist of his grief. His sobs were harsh, pulsing in his chest like another heartbeat, and the tears were painful, leaving what felt like bloodied trails down his cheeks, his bitter weeping intensifying, for he was all alone, a forgotten relic—the last of his kind. The more he sobbed, the more his heart fractured, and he realized that nobody would ever understand how alone he was in this life. He wasn't just the last Airbender, he was the Avatar, someone cursed to live for centuries and one whose sole purpose was to serve the world, a life to live only selflessly.
But he didn't want to be selfless; he was weary of it, sick of it. For once, he wanted to be selfish, to drown under the sorrow brimming in his soul. His heart finally broke and, with it, his control as his eyes snapped shut with violent intensity. The mountain began to rumble as his tears spilled more violently, terrible anguish erupting in his heart, morphing into the terrifying rage he did everything to pretend wasn't there.
Cracks in the stone appeared around him, splitting and snapping erratically, and something clawed through the obscurity in his soul, trying to reach him. "You are not alone, Aang," Avatar Yangchen said, her gentle voice echoing in the darkness that consumed him. "We are here—all of us."
"You're dead, too," he whispered, eyes still shut.
"But alive evermore in you—as are those you knew and loved."
"That's not good enough."
"It never is. But will you succeed in destroying what Sozin tried so hard to?"
Aang's eyes snapped open in a furious panic as he sensed the destruction around him; the ancient mountain roared as his grief nearly toppled it, including the Temple it housed.
It stopped.
His rapid breathing did nothing to ease his dread, nor did the mountain's dormant state. Following an instinct he had for lifetimes, he sniffed, wiped the tears from his eyes, and sat in the lotus position. The world was silent, but his soul was not and never would be. Within moments, a murky cloud floated out of him and occupied the space across from him. The cloud swirled faster and faster, growing bigger until, finally, the shadow of a person appeared.
Aang opened his eyes and stared at Avatar Yangchen, who asked no questions; she understood as much as she could. They were born of the Air Nomads and inherited the burden of Avatar, and he needed that.
"I feel your pain, my friend." Yangchen's eyes were so full of sorrow that Aang knew that she did truly feel his pain on a spiritual level. "I have always felt it since you awoke from your slumber."
"It wasn't voluntary," he muttered, finding his voice barely usable after his enormous sobs. "And it wasn't a slumber; it was an absence. I was absent a century, and I passed into legend like our people."
"But you embody both. You carry a unique burden never seen before and never to be seen again. You are both The Avatar and the Last Airbender."
Aang felt something tight in his chest—a hollow realization. "Which means that I can never dedicate myself to our people like I should. I'm as much… a Waterbender as an Airbender. It means I have no home, no people."
Yangchen smiled sadly. "There is so much tension inside you, Aang; it threatens your balance."
"I don't know what to do. I'm both Avatar and the Last Airbender. It's just me—forever. I'm alone. I've looked," he stressed, voice breaking but quiet and pained; the grief in his heart flared from its simmering consistency. "I've scoured to the corners of the world, and it's only me. I even descended the oceans and looked, hoping to see a massive air pocket or something, but there was nothing. Sozin knew what he was doing and left no stone unturned in his pursuit. He was perfectly efficient in eradicating from the world all the bloodlines of Air—except mine."
"The Air Nomads will rise again—from you," Yangchen replied, her eyes shining with ethereal tears. "It will take time, more time than you are comfortable with, but there will be a repopulation; the Airbenders will return. It is foretold, and you shall be the father of an entire nation. Yours is the seed of Air."
Aang wiped away the tears in his eyes. "I want it now."
"I know."
"But I can't," he confessed. "I know my people will return, but it will only happen one way. The sages of Water, Earth, and Fire are pressuring me to marry, or, at the very least spread the seed of Air amongst every non-bending woman so I can bring life to our dead race. But I'm not ready for something like that! I mean, I'm only fifteen! How do I even spread my seed like that?"
Yangchen's eyes twinkled. "You must ask Kuruk for advice when it comes to spreading your seed. He was most prolific."
His laughter, small but real, ruffled the air. "I'd rather have Roku's advice about such a thing."
"Very prudent."
"But I don't know how to be prudent about any of this. I'm fifteen and so lonely, more alone than anyone." Aang looked out into the open sky, hoping for a sign of his people, but there was nothing. "No one understands, not even you, Avatar Yangchen. It's not your burden to bear, but it is mine; it's mine and mine alone. And it only gets heavier every day that passes."
"There are no words of comfort I can provide that are adequate, Aang," Yangchen replied mournfully. "I fail to imagine the fathomless depths of your many burdens, but perhaps our presence can temporarily ease those burdens."
Suddenly, more grayish mist formed, images shimmering before his eyes until shapes took hold. Aang inhaled sharply, and he felt something realign for a brief moment at seeing Airbenders sit behind Yangchen—all of the Air Avatars.
"Yangchen," he whispered, overwhelmed.
She smiled kindly. "The grief of our kind's demise afflicts our spirits. We are not you, Aang, but you are us; we are here and shall never leave you." All of the past Air Avatars transformed into mist and rushed into Yangchen's body as she rose to her feet, and her body became solid—touchable.
Aang inhaled sharply, eyes bulging in hopeful realization, and he floated to his feet, mirroring her. He reached out hesitantly, and she stepped forward before smiling gently, almost motherly, and pulled him in for a fierce hug.
As her arms wrapped around him, Aang felt surrounded by his people; he felt the Air Nomads, their soothing, free, and wise energy wrapping around him like a blanket. He clutched Yangchen and, together, they sank to their knees, both weeping in mourning for their lost race and people.
He made a habit out of relying on his past lives for company while he restored the Southern Air Temple, which took double the length in time because he had nearly destroyed it from his initial onslaught of grief. Only he and his past lives would know if he utilized The Avatar State to repaint the murals and frescoes. Roku and Yangchen were the two he trusted and loved most out of his past lives—but he didn't try traveling far down The Avatar Cycle; he never went past Yangchen, too afraid of what would be said to him. He tried Kyoshi, but she was unhelpful.
"Your people are dead," she said, voice even, a recitation of a fact. "Air is gone. You failed them, and they paid the ultimate price. The only way to move forward is to use their memory as motivation never to fail again."
Aang blinked rapidly and tried to smile. "I'm not sure that's a good- "
"Your passivity is worrying. Be assertive. Recognize their demise and learn from it."
"I have learned from it!" he snapped.
Kyoshi's lips stretched slightly. "Good. You must be firm- "
"I didn't summon you for an earthbending lesson! I need advice."
"A pity," Kyoshi said with a sigh. "Your thinking is limited. You have much potential, Avatar Aang, but until you rid yourself of your insular understanding, the only advice you will ever heed is that which you want to hear."
Aang hissed through his teeth and felt a hysterical laugh escape him. "I don't know why I bothered with you. You told me to kill Ozai, but I didn't need to. I found a way around that!"
Kyoshi was unmoved. "Leaving a chance for him to rise again rather than ensuring—ensuring—he can never rise again. Are you that confident in yourself? Are you that capable an Avatar?"
"I defeated him- "
"It was not you who defeated him," she reminded, voice strong and pitiless. "It was us."
Aang sighed to hold back his growing frustration. "What's so bad about that?"
Kyoshi looked disappointed. "You relied on others rather than yourself. You have yet to manifest the strength I know you have."
"I was twelve!" he cried out, remembering the terror he felt during Sozin's Comet as Ozai mocked him and his people's demise. "What was I supposed to do?"
"Learn from it," she responded, voice almost kind and coaxing. "You have yet to learn from your mistakes, Aang. Must the world pay the price for your arrogance?"
Aang narrowed his eyes, anger sparking. "What about yours? You created the Dai Li, who overtook Ba Sing Se and desecrated everything you stood for!"
Kyoshi looked unimpressed. "It is my failure, yes, but it is more Roku's failure than mine. It was during his reign when the seeds of the Dai Li's corruption began to sprout into- "
"We're done here," he condemned in disgust. "You call me weak for relying on our past lives when fighting Ozai, but you rely on Roku's failures and lump together yours with his!"
"It's intriguing that you defend him so ardently when his failure directly culminated in your situation."
Aang clenched his fists. "At least he's always been honest with me."
Kyoshi looked amused. "You mean simple?"
"No! Honest, unlike you!"
"When have I ever been dishonest with you, Avatar Aang? Perhaps you mistake over-honesty for dishonesty."
He tried to control his breathing. "Then I'm sorry I'm not a perfect Avatar like you were."
"You think I didn't fail, Avatar Aang?" Kyoshi questioned, voice almost curious. "By presuming such a thing, you verify that you have not learned from your mistakes. No Avatar is perfect, least of all us. We are most similar."
Aang sprung back as if burned. "No, it was dishonesty—as you just proved! We're nothing alike! I'm like my people, while you're nothing like them."
She said nothing for several moments, but as her intense eyes roamed him, something almost sad was on her painted face. "I am sorry about your burden, but until you mature, you remain lost, and the world will suffer."
Something dark boiled inside. "The world will always suffer."
"But it is your job not to arouse the suffering."
"I summoned you to help me with my people," Aang reminded, trying but failing to keep his voice even. "I don't know what to do, and I'm so desperate I'm asking you for advice. How do I stop the images- "
"Did you watch them die?"
"What?" he sputtered. "My people? No, I didn't! What kind of question is that?"
"If you didn't watch them die, why torture yourself with images? These are not memories that torment you; they are images conceived by your guilty imagination. You must ask yourself these questions, Avatar Aang."
Aang felt a warped rage and punched his fist forward with violent intent; the air howled and tore through Kyoshi's cloud, which returned into him.
Kuruk was little better. He only wanted to talk about Ummi and his hunt for Koh rather than anything else, and Aang didn't feel inclined to share the location of Koh's lair, which created a riff.
Yangchen and Roku were enough.
However, Roku was worried.
"This is a gross misuse of The Avatar's power," Roku said sadly. "We are meant to guide you, Aang. We are not your companions."
Aang glared at him. "You were wrong about a lot of things—and that includes this."
"Then why summon me?"
"You're all I have."
"I'm sorry, Aang, but I can't help you."
His sudden desperation was consuming. "I'm not asking for your help; I don't need your help. I need your presence."
Roku reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, and Aang welcomed the contact—even if it was problematic in so many ways. "You know this is not the way, Aang. Go to the South and reunite with your friends."
Aang flinched at the reminder of such friends. "No. This is what I need right now."
So, he continued his reliance on his past lives—Roku and Yangchen—for company, beginning to perceive them as his actual friends, and he was able to tell the stories he never told Katara, Sokka, Toph, and Zuko, able to say the names he forced himself to forget, because his past lives understood—at least at the level of being The Avatar, not as the Last Airbender. He learned so much more about Roku and Yangchen than he thought possible, and from listening to and basking in their stories, he felt like he was living in those lifetimes again—when everything was brighter and better.
His past lives understood more than anyone living ever could, and it was a great comfort and terrible grief.
After restoring the Southern Air Temple, Aang began the process of restoring the other three Air temples, completing the same rituals and grieving less and less each time; instead, there was a distance, a separation, a boundary—and he neared feeling nothing by the time he reached the Eastern Air Temple, even with Pathik there.
The Earth Kingdom refugees living in the Northern Temple tried to help with the ceremony, but Aang refused, adamant, and he was severely annoyed when none of them seemed to understand the sanctity of his actions, of what he was doing. There were some moments when he thought about banishing them from all Air Temples, but he knew such a thing was shameful to Air.
He just wished that they understood that he had to do it himself; it was his burden as the last of Air.
As he restored the Northern Temple, he destroyed all of the Mechanic's 'modifications' and firmly warned that no such 'modifications' would ever desecrate his people's home or that the refugees could go elsewhere. After the Mechanic accepted his terms, it became apparent that not all of the Air Nomad customs, traditions, and beliefs would be practiced again; some, if not many, would die with him. It was a realization that never got easier to recognize.
After reconstructing the Temple, and begrudgingly accepting some suggestions by the Mechanic for easier access to areas for all the non-benders, Aang decided to teach the refugees the Air Nomad way of life—but his heart wasn't in it, he could admit. The refugees were just that—refugees. They were non-benders; they were of Earth, not of Air, lacking the spiritual energy that pervaded all Children of Air—an energy Aang could not feel anywhere. But he stipulated to the refugees that if they were to remain at the Northern Temple, they must abide by the philosophies, history, and traditions of Air—and teach the future generations of refugees, too. The decision was based on the slim chance that an Airbender could be born in the future from such lineages.
Particularly, Teo took to the teachings with great enthusiasm, and it was almost enough to lighten Aang's spirits.
"All this time, I've rolled around these halls, and I never knew that's what these murals meant," Teo gushed, staring in awe at one of the murals—one that depicted the sky bisons teachings the first Airbenders. "I always thought this one was like a weird dance thing."
"Bending could be considered a dance," he replied, voice drifting. "It is an art form of precision, discipline, and balance."
Teo was in awe, and Aang knew it was genuine. The genuine, immense enthusiasm briefly resurrected something inside him, and he followed the impulse it provoked.
"Teo, I'm going to heal you," he announced one night at dinner.
The sudden silence was jarring, and it reminded him too much of the void in the Temple due to Air's lack of presence.
"What?" the Mechanic breathed out, astonished, a piece of lettuce dangling between his frozen fingers. "You can… heal?"
"Certain Waterbenders can," Aang explained slowly, wary of the number of eyes watching him in amazement. "Katara taught me a little, especially after my injury under Ba Sing Se, and I've been teaching myself since. I think I've mastered it."
"Think or know?" the Mechanic demanded, looking so hopeful.
Aang looked at Teo. "I'd like to heal you, Teo. I can do it now if you want."
Teo looked overwhelmed, and his eyes roamed his frozen legs. "Are you sure?"
The wind rustled through the dining hall, and Aang smiled, feeling lighter. "I'm sure."
Unfortunately, he had never attempted healing something so massive and damaging, and it quickly became apparent that it was not a simple process, and while Aang could do it in a few hours, he didn't have that sort of time—not with everyone watching expectantly. And he didn't want to lose his nerve if it continued for so long.
Regretting his failure, Aang made a decision; he looked at the congregated refugees, all of whom anxiously stared back at him. "I'm going to need you all to leave, so I can have some space."
Clearly, some of the refugees thought it was a desperate attempt to save face, but they all departed, some with annoyance and others with hopeful glances back.
"Can you really heal me, Aang?" Teo asked quietly, voice demoralized.
Aang placed a hand on Teo's shoulder. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes, but why- "
"I'm going to put you to sleep."
"Why?"
"So I can heal you," he said, omitting the key details. He didn't want to draw upon the Avatar State in front of the refugees, wary of showcasing such terrible power to them and scaring them.
Once Teo was asleep, Aang entered The Avatar State and accessed the skills and experience needed to heal such damage. It was deep, but within minutes, everything was repaired, and The Avatar gazed down at Teo.
"Live completely," The Avatar murmured.
When Teo awoke minutes later, it was to a miracle, and Aang smiled as Teo ran outside, free from the confines of his wheelchair. "Dad! Look! Look! He did it!"
Arriving at the Western Air Temple was a reprieve away from the social expectations people had of him as The Avatar. There were no politics, and there was no one watching his every move, waiting for him to make a mistake or ask him questions with obvious answers.
Unlike last time when he was at the Western Temple, he slept in one of the rooms, not wanting the pain associated with the memories of sleeping in one of the main foyers.
The Gaang was gone, and there was no one with him. It had been difficult to see the evidence of what Sozin did at the Temple, particularly since it was closest to the Fire Nation, but it was made easier with the Gaang's presence, and he could distract himself.
Without his friends, there was nothing that prevented him from absorbing everything. Due to its close proximity to the Fire Nation, it seemed to have taken the most damage out of the Air Temples. In fact, the impact of Azula's attack on the Temple near the end of the Great War was probably the easiest thing to fix. But Aang got to work, accompanied by Roku, Yangchen, and his distancing grief.
"It saddens me to see how lifeless this place is," Yangchen said one day, face pained. "This was my home as much as any place could be."
Aang felt great sympathy for her. "I know."
"I know you do, Aang. I saw much in my life; I saw death and chaos, but nothing like what you endure—nothing like the absence of this place."
"Its absence is a presence, isn't it?" he asked quietly, rhetorically. "It's hard to believe, but it's real. The stories that once filled these halls and echoed in this air are gone. At the end of the day, all we have are our stories. That's what I have of our people. It's all there is, and it's all that I can pass on. Sozin did this—to all of them."
"This is a result of my incompetence," Roku said, taking the place of Yangchen, and Aang did not have the kindness necessary to disagree. "I was not decisive."
After finishing the Western Temple, he made his way to the Eastern Temple, and it was as he remembered. Pathik awaited him when Appa landed with a roar of greeting.
"Good to see you, too, Appa," Pathik called out fondly before meeting Aang's eyes with a twinkle. "I had a feeling that you would return here."
Aang jumped off Appa and bowed. "It's so good to see you again."
Pathik bowed in turn. "It is a pleasure to feel your energy, but you have my thanks for not releasing all of your energy. If I felt all of your energy, I suspect it would be my death!"
He chuckled and pulled Pathik into a hug, and the kind laughter echoed in the air, and it felt incredible to speak with someone mortal and living who had a semblance of an idea of how he felt. Pathik was friends with Gyatso and knew the Air Nomads—and he knew Pathik grieved just as he did.
"How about some onion and banana juice?" Pathik asked, pulling away, and Aang swore he saw Gyatso for a flash of a moment, smiling fondly.
He felt tears in his eyes. "That sounds really good."
"Don't worry, Appa and Momo! There's enough for you."
Appa's resulting groan of disgust made Aang laugh. "More for us."
Pathik looked at him, something painfully honest on his face. "It really is good to see you, Aang."
"You too," he replied honestly. There was something almost purer about communicating with someone real rather than Roku or Yangchen. "You may be the only one who truly grieves the loss of my people."
"But anticipates its rebirth," Pathik added kindly.
Since Pathik was not an Airbender, he had never been able to give those dead their proper rights, so he left them in their temporary final resting places, citing his faith that someone who could fulfill the rights would return. It was too easy to begin the burial rights, having done so three times, and when he finished the ritual, there was not much feeling; there was no change with how he felt previously.
Pathik seemed to sense it but said nothing.
The restoration process was smooth and long, particularly since Pathik forced him to interact and take breaks; they would reminisce and tell stories. But no matter how devotedly they reminisced, no matter the stories they told, Air was lifeless and there was no revival, not even for a split second, a momentary glimpse of what he yearned for.
"I have had over a century to ruminate on everything that has happened," Pathik said as Aang packed Appa when he was done renovating the Temple. "It's too much; it's too perfect."
"What are you talking about?"
"Sozin was a great man, but not even he could have done all of this."
Aang almost dropped his glider in shock, the very same one that he found when he was fixing up the Southern Temple; he found it in a room with dozens of other original airbending staffs, thankfully preserved from Sozin's evil. Although he was grateful for the Mechanic's creation of a staff on the Day of Black Sun, he would always prefer a true airbending glider.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded. "He wasn't great; he was a monster! You've seen the evidence!"
"Sozin was a great man, but he was not a good man," Pathik corrected gently but sternly. "Understand the difference. I believe there is more here to uncover—so much more. There is something bigger going—something cosmic, perhaps."
He didn't believe it. "I don't see how. It was Sozin; it was always Sozin. Sozin is why it's only you and me standing here in a Temple that should be brimming with Airbenders and sky bison. The only thing bigger going on is mortal greed and apathy."
"I think you are beginning down such a path."
Aang stared at him in bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"
Pathik gestured at him, face pained. "Your apathy and distance only grow—I sense it. And your greed for a life that never was holds you back from acceptance."
He turned away, taking in the restored Eastern Temple; it brought him no peace. Nothing brought him peace, not truly. His past lives came closest, but it wasn't the same.
"Maybe it's not a bad thing," Aang said quietly after several moments, refusing to look at Pathik. "Maybe it makes me a more capable Avatar—because I'll never be devastated again. Isn't that what it's all about—me being the best Avatar I can be? That's all anyone cares about, anyway."
"Oh, Aang," Pathik lamented. "Is your devastation so deep that you, Airbender you are, can't fly out of it? I lost them, too- "
"I know," he agreed, feeling their kinship. "But… you weren't of them; you hold no ties- "
"The notion of such ties is what helped prolong the Great War, splitting people into loyalties based on blood ties. The Air Nomads were above such things."
"But I'm not," Aang cried out, quivering, feeling the tears well in his eyes. "They're not around anymore to assure me and help me. I was twelve when it happened, and that's all I have of them—twelve years. I should have a lifetime, but I don't. My ties to them are the only way I remember them. You don't understand it because you don't feel it! Their blood is in my veins. My parents were Airbenders, and my grandparents before them, and so on—forever. I am all that's left, and you don't understand because… you're not one of them; you're not like me."
"Do you wish you knew your parents?"
"I do now," he whispered, eyes lowering. "Whose blood will flow through my children? Whose blood will supply the revival of Air?"
"It is your blood, and the blood of the woman—possibly women—you deem worthy."
"But her blood doesn't bring back Air; only mine does," he stressed, feeling his anxiety increase. "It's all up to me. My seed of Air is the only thing that can restore Air, provoke its rebirth. But that's too much pressure! So, I wish I knew my parents, who would carry the burden with me. Because if I focus on them, it means it's not just me. It's not just me who brings back Air; it's them, too. It's my two parents, my four grandparents, my eight great grandparents, my sixteen great-great grandparents, my thirty-two great-great-great grandparents, and so on since Airbenders were born Airbenders, all of whom live in my blood, and can pass that precious inheritance on to my children."
Pathik looked worn. "If you were anyone but The Avatar, I would commend such thoughts. But devotion to that notion may be unhealthy for The Avatar."
He frowned. "You're going to tell The Avatar how to be The Avatar?"
"I did before."
"I was a boy, then," he dismissed.
"You were kind, then, and welcoming."
Aang remembered that boy, and he missed him. "He didn't know any better."
"He was young," Pathik corrected kindly with a small smile. "He was a good boy, and there was so much for him. You must reconnect with that shattered boy."
"That 'shattered boy' would have welcomed Sozin to the Air Temples on the day of the Great Comet when he attacked, not understanding anything," Aang said flatly, ignoring the pangs of grief—it was something he had become greatly skilled at.
"So, distance is the answer?"
He glanced, unimpressed, at Pathik. "You stay here all the time and don't go anywhere—distance. You understand why it's better- "
"Distance is not better than intimacy."
"I knew intimacy, and it wasn't all that intimate."
"The 'relationship' you attempted with Katara, which was built on something imaginary, was not intimacy."
Aang scoffed. "Don't talk to me about that. You should be proud of me—because I understand why my people lived in the Temples. I actually understand now. They lived high above in the skies, away from the other nations, removed from the mires of Life. The distance allows observation and objectivity. I see things as they are. I know the truth."
Pathik looked tired. "But you still claim that Sozin is the source of- "
"He is!" he cried out. "Why can't you see that? Why can't Sozin just be a monster? Why can't you just accept that he was a monster? Why are you looking for complexity when there is none?"
"Are the Children of Fire evil?"
"Of course not- "
"Then why is Sozin?"
Aang exhaled slowly, trying to control his roiling emotions; he failed. "Are you so simple that you don't know the answer? Where were you when he raped the Temples?"
"I was in the Earth Kingdom," Pathik replied after several tense moments.
"The Earth Kingdom?" Aang echoed, feeling something hysterical inside. "Then why don't you understand? If you were born of the Children of Earth, who suffered greatly from Sozin's attacks, as Kuei never fails to remind me, why don't you get it?"
"Why do you enforce on yourself a vision of what you think Sozin was- "
"I saw him!" he shouted, flinging his hands out from the force of his emotions. "Roku showed me! I saw everything! He left Roku to die!"
Pathik tilted his head. "Is it your anger or Roku's?"
Aang stared at him flatly. "It's mine. Roku's forgiven him. He showed me that, too."
"And why can you not follow his example?"
"His example did nothing—he admitted it to me! The Great War was his example."
"Will another Great War be your example?"
Aang froze. "What are you talking about?"
Pathik nodded. "The world is in a delicate position, and it has been ever since you returned. You have done so many good things, Aang, but you have failed, too, unintentionally. You refuse to look deeper and find the roots of these problems. You have a great fondness for surfaces—as so many do. And I fear if this continues, if you continue your lack of vigilance, another Great War will mar the world—but even worse. Until you perceive the roots, the trees that grow will never be trees of life."
He sighed and leaned his head against Appa's side. "What am I supposed to be vigilant toward?"
"Peace has not been restored, nor has balance," Pathik observed. "I suspect things will only become more imbalanced if you do not act swiftly and restore balance. Chaos will overtake peace- "
"When?"
"I cannot say. Perhaps it's another century; perhaps it's a year; perhaps it's tomorrow. But you must- "
"It's not up to me, Pathik," he interrupted tiredly. "The political situation is incomprehensible, and I don't care enough to learn something pointless and transient."
"Maybe you should, Aang."
"Kuei is being unreasonable, and it's not The Avatar's duty to enforce his will on those who disagree," Aang said with a tired shrug. "I've talked to him, and he's not listening to me; he thinks I'm just a kid. But there's nothing to worry about; nothing's going to happen."
"What of the Fire Lord?"
Aang's brows rose in surprise. "Zuko? He's as frustrated by it as I am—probably more so, actually. And none of the other Earth Kings but Bumi are of any help. It's just tensions that have been on high for over a hundred years—probably longer—that are slowly learning to be released. There's been so much distrust that it's difficult to let go and start afresh. That's all it is."
Pathik stared at him. "I think there is more going on here, Aang."
"Why?" he asked, voice rising in irritation. "What can you possibly sense that I can't?"
"My senses are open," Pathik said, voice soft and eyes mournful. "You have shut yourself off."
"Because there's nothing to sense but absence and imbalance!" Aang cried out in disbelief. "I'm well aware of what is there to be sensed. There is nothing else. I've looked."
"You must listen."
Aang threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Why does everyone assume that I don't know what I'm doing? Has it ever occurred to you that I know what I'm doing, Pathik? It's so simplistic to look at me and think you know more just because you're so much older."
Pathik held his stare. "Almost as simple as presuming Sozin is the source of all this."
"You're the source of this conversation," he snapped. "And I am older than you—because you're speaking to The Avatar, not Aang, right? You don't care about Aang; you only care about The Avatar and the burdens that come with it."
Silence.
"I sense that- "
"I don't want your 'sensing.'"
Pathik shook his head with a heavy sigh. "I cannot pretend to know The Avatar, and I'm not going to insult you by trying. But why do you refuse to look deeper- "
Aang snapped; the stone cracked beneath their feet, and the air howled. "Because every time I've looked deeper, there's only more pain and suffering! Call me simple all you want, but I need simple—at least for now. After everything that's happened, I think I'm entitled to it—no, I know I'm entitled to it. I've had enough pain and suffering."
"And that is why you close yourself off, why you distance yourself," Pathik observed, heartbreak in his eyes. "If you are not careful, you will seal your chakras shut- "
"I don't care," he interrupted. "I'm not that boy who flew off because of a vision of his friends in danger—not anymore."
"No," Pathik agreed. "This Aang has no friends to sense in danger."
Aang stepped back in surprise before anger surged inside. "You're the one with no friends! Name someone you know besides me!"
"Appa."
"Someone human."
"Is that what you fear? That you will become like me?" Pathik nodded knowingly but kindly. "The conclusion of the path on which you find yourself is your very fear. Closing yourself off is not the answer."
"So, I'm supposed to feel everything instead?" Aang demanded, voice rising in hysteria. "I'm supposed to let my senses expand until I know it all?"
"You are supposed to feel it and let it pass through until you get to the other side—for there is another side."
Aang felt certain. "No, there isn't. I've already felt all I can bear to feel, and there is no end. You may not like it—I may not like it—but this is the only solution that works. It won't be forever, but- "
Pathik held up a hand. "Do waste what time I have left justifying yourself to me; justify to yourself."
"What do you think I've been doing?" Aang shouted and leaped onto Appa's head with too much force with his airbending; Pathik was blown back, and he didn't feel guilty. "If you think I'm doing a terrible job as Avatar, you be The Avatar!"
"You know I cannot," Pathik called out, slowly standing to his feet.
"That's right!" he cried out, his anger surging through him, releasing the dark honesty. "Because I'm The Avatar, and I know what I'm doing! But the worst thing is—I would give you The Avatar if I could. It's brought me nothing but horror and grief. Don't you get it? It was because of The Avatar that Sozin attacked the Temples! It was because of me! If I weren't The Avatar, Air would still be here, and I could've actually been something rather than this; I could have been someone. You think I like this, Pathik? You think I want it? I hate it! The Avatar is nothing but misery! It was what made me run away, the fact that I was The Avatar, and I was being treated differently because of it. But when I ran away, I thought—no, I knew—that I would see my people again; I knew I would see Gyatso and everyone I loved again. But they're gone, and I can't hear them; I can't see them; I can't feel them; and I can't remember them without torment, guilt, and regret. Now look at me! You think my people would be proud of me, of who I've become in their intentional absence planned and realized by Sozin? No, I know they wouldn't! I know they would be ashamed of me if they weren't already by my running away and 'sleeping' while they burned. But what am I supposed to do? They're not here to help me and remind me of what everything's about. I can't remember because I'm too bitter, resentful, and so fucking angry! And all there is the Void, the Abyss, and I'm doing my best not to fall into it—and this is the best I can do. So, no, I'm not going to open my senses and madden myself even more! I'm not going to listen to your delusions about Sozin! He is the cause! And yes, I know that every cause has a cause, but he is the uncaused cause! Unless it's actually me!" Something hysterical and familiar caused him to laugh. "It is me! I'm the cause of it all—The Avatar. My people were—were because they're gone—perfect, above it all, living the lives of freedom, and I pulled them down from that—because Sozin wanted me. It was my existence that provoked Sozin's evil, so that makes The Avatar evil! And I don't know what to do about that!"
Pathik looked like his soul was crushed—distressed, distraught, and disbelieving. "I'm sorry, but it's something you must discover on your own."
He hadn't seen Pathik since, and Aang didn't feel like changing that.
There was too much to be done, and The Avatar, the curse that it was, was needed everywhere.
He spent months flying through the Earth Kingdom, helping wherever he could, alleviating disasters, and settling various disputes, including raids conducted by soldiers who couldn't let go of the warrior mindset.
Always, a group of people surrounded him, petitioning him to end Fire:
"Avatar Aang, you must avenge my friend! He was butchered by Fire!"
"Avatar Aang, think of those who died defending what they loved! And think of the murderers who murdered them!"
"Avatar Aang, unleash your divine wrath and let Fire burn as we burned!"
"Avatar Aang, remember your people, who, the legends say, were peaceful and kind! Let that motivate you to do what is necessary!"
"Fire wiped the Air Nomads from this world and pissed all over their legacy, Avatar Aang! Now, you must piss all over Fire and douse out their flames!"
"My entire family was wiped out, Avatar! The least you could do is quit your weakness and obliterate Fire!"
"There's nothing in the entire world that I have waited for more than Fire's destruction, and you dare tell me that it's not going to happen? No! Fuck you, Avatar! And fuck those Badgermole shits you think are worth saving!"
"No wonder your people were slaughtered, Avatar, if they possessed the same feeble disposition as you!"
It was insane.
Aang quickly distanced himself from interacting with people, who either asked two things—had he found any hidden Airbenders, and would he destroy Fire? Both reactions to his uncompromising answers, which grew darker and darker the more he was pestered, were consistent. People lamented that he was the last of his kind, seeming to have a fascination with the concept, but they would stare at him with resentment, some hidden much better than others, whenever he reiterated the necessity of sparing Fire and forgiveness.
No one wanted forgiveness, and it would take a long time for forgiveness to be possible.
It slowly became clear during the political meetings.
Throughout his time restoring the Air Temples, he left recurringly to attend the Great Gathering, a convening of the Four Nations' leaders. Initially, after the Great War, there were four meetings per year; then it switched to three meetings over time; finally, it became semi-annual. However, based on how tense the later meetings became, it seemed likely that the Great Gathering would revert to four meetings per year.
Aang had the honor of attending as the High Elder of Air—as well as being The Avatar, of course. Chief Arnook represented the Water Tribes; there was a giant debacle between Chief Arnook and Chief Hakoda, and Chief Hakoda only attended once per year as a result. At first, Aang had been excited, thinking he would see Katara, Sokka, and Suki again, but Hakoda never brought them.
Apparently, Aang failed to conceal his sadness.
"How are you, Aang?" Hakoda greeted, approaching him with the kind smile he remembered. "Look how much you've grown! Katara and Sokka won't believe it when I tell them."
He tried to match Hakoda's kind smile, but he knew he failed based on the worry that flashed in the eyes that looked at him. "It's the plants."
Hakoda chuckled, and it sounded similar to Sokka; it made Aang wistful and resentful. "Well, you're sprouting up like a plant. I wonder how much taller you'd be if you ate meat."
"I'm sure Sokka answers that question," Aang replied, smiling tightly.
Silence.
"I didn't bring Katara and Sokka," Hakoda said. "They're not here."
"So?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want them to be… mired in all this political nonsense." Hakoda glanced around before stepping closer. "Both of them have been having a hard time readjusting to life after the War, and I didn't want them reminded of the things they saw and were forced to do by being here. It's been hard on everyone, but especially on them. All of you kids were so young, and you shouldn't have been part of it. We failed you. But I wasn't going to fail Sokka and Katara anymore. They didn't want to be here, and I didn't want them here; they should have time to be youthful. And they hate politics, too. Katara told me what happened at the North with Pakku."
Aang remembered and felt no fondness as he usually would have. "He refused to train me because I broke the rules to teach her what he was showing me," he recalled flatly.
"I know," Hakoda said with a nod and slight snort. "My mother was entirely unimpressed when she heard the story. I almost felt bad for him."
He stayed quiet for several moments, unsure what to say. "How was the trip?"
Hakoda looked at him gently. "You don't want to talk about such banal things, do you?"
"I saw you talking privately to King Kuei," he tried. "It looked important. Anything The Avatar should know about?"
"Do you really want to talk about King Kuei?
"What else are we supposed to talk about? You're not who I wanted to see."
Aang tried not to flinch when Hakoda placed a kind hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't bring them, but I wasn't going to bring them to something that would only bring them pain. They have nightmares."
He was unable to prevent his scoff; he knew such nightmares were nothing compared to his. "Everyone has nightmares. I have nightmares, and I'm here."
Hakoda looked apologetic. "It's not that they're not here because they don't want to see you- "
"They should tell me that themselves."
"They talk about you a lot. I know they miss you."
"Then why haven't they written?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice lower.
"Why haven't you?" Hakoda asked mildly. "You should come back to the South again. I know it was awkward last time when you and Katara broke up, but it would be good to see you outside of the politics. I hate only seeing you at these things."
"I hate not seeing them at all."
Hakoda squeezed his shoulder kindly before letting go. "We would welcome you- "
"Because I'm The Avatar," he muttered.
"Because you're Aang," Hakoda corrected. "The South is always welcome to you. I know Katara and Sokka—and Suki, too—would love to see you. Come for a visit. You can come back with us if you'd like."
Hakoda made the same offer every time he saw him at the Great Gathering, but Aang never took the offer, too bitter and afraid. Why should he make the effort that Katara and Sokka never made? Why should he be the one to make the first step? Why should he reach out? How dare Hakoda claim that he would be welcome when Katara and Sokka did nothing to verify it?
The Great Gathering was always a source of stress and dread, for he was purely The Avatar, and he must be The Avatar and see people he didn't wish to see. However, his lone reprieve was that Zuko and Bumi were in attendance. Zuko represented the Fire Nation as Fire Lord, and with him in attendance were his councilors, advisors, and nobles, all of whom Aang knew his friend didn't really listen to. Bumi represented a quarter of the Earth Kingdom as one of its four kings.
Apparently, King Kuei planned not to invite Bumi and the two other Earth kings, but Bumi and the other kings showed up—and showed up still at all the Great Gatherings no matter how much King Kuei pressed in advantage for a sole representative, a unifying King of Earth—just as there was a Lord of Fire. But the Earth Kingdom's three other kings demanded representation, refusing to abide by King Kuei's boasted authority, leaving a lopsided delegation. And that didn't even account for the attendance of diplomats, nobles, and ambassadors. Chief Arnook had Hahn, his nobles, and the elders of the North; the King of Zaofu had his followers, and the same went for the King of Chyung; Kuei had many nobles and diplomats, including the Council of Five and several Dai Li agents; Bumi had a small entourage of councilors; and Zuko had his own personnel.
It was always the same, no matter the season of the Great Gathering. Everyone had a delegation, had those on whom to rely for the betterment of their nation, but Aang had no one, for he was the only one who could represent Air in any fashion; he was alone. However, he did take some small solace in the fact that Zuko always looked like he, either subtly or desperately, wanted to be alone, too.
Aang sat alone at one end of a great table, each with a section for the nation it represented; Zuko sat across from him with his delegation, and being able to share amused or annoyed glances with his only friend left was a salvation; the four Earth kings were to Aang's right, and Chief Arnook was to his left, along with Hakoda when Hakoda was in attendance.
There was much resentment in the room, and everyone seemed to dislike each other to some degree. Hakoda and Chief Arnook couldn't get along, and Aang still didn't know the full details about why Hakoda only attended once per year; King Kuei seemed to get along with the kings of Zaofu and Chyung, but Bumi always seemed to mock him, so there was dislike between them, especially based on King Kuei's bitter glances; Chief Arnook didn't seem to like Zuko, but he was respectful; and Zuko didn't seem to like anyone but Bumi, Hakoda, or Aang himself.
Actually, everyone was respectful, and that was the problem. It was a veneer concealing the chaos and resentment roiling underneath.
Particularly, King Kuei and Zuko seemed to share a simmering animosity that Aang couldn't understand.
"Fire Lord Zuko," King Kuei said, inclining his head from his position at the table. "I hope you have reconsidered my proposal."
Aang watched as Zuko shook his head solemnly. "I'm afraid not, King Kuei. It is not to my liking, and it does not benefit the Fire Nation."
"My niece is a worthy bride for the Fire Lord."
"We have more important things to discuss than marriage proposals," his friend dismissed, clearly done with the topic. "I received word that you wanted more reparations."
"We both do," Chief Arnook cut in smoothly, and Aang looked at him in surprise before glancing at Hakoda, whose eyes were narrowed at Arnook. "Not enough has been provided, Fire Lord Zuko."
Zuko's councilors furiously whispered to each other, and Aang could have used airbending to listen, but he was afraid of what he'd hear.
"Precisely," King Kuei agreed, nodding his head. "Earth and Water's reparations have been inadequate. We need more. I might be satisfied by- "
Zuko made eye contact momentarily with Aang before interrupting. "I know what you'll be satisfied by, King Kuei. As I've already stated previously, numerous times, my sister will not be put on trial. Her condition is unstable, something your own physicians verified."
"I sympathize with your position, Fire Lord Zuko," King Kuei lamented, "but I need something. My people continue to feel the impacts of the Great War. I do this for them."
"Maybe you must start doing things for the Fire Lord's people," Aang suggested. "Think of others, for that is the path to healing."
Zuko nodded briefly at him. "Thank you, Avatar Aang. The only way forward is healing. We're not going to forget; we're never going to forget. But we forgive- "
"What does Fire have to forgive?" the King of Zaofu demanded, voice twisting. "The atrocities- "
"The atrocities of Fire were equaled by the atrocities of Earth and Water," Zuko cut in, voice adamant, daring someone to object. "Men were cut down on both sides, violently, painfully, vividly; women were raped on both sides; children were traumatized on both sides. No one, least of all Fire, won the Great War. There were no victors, only victims. We were all victims of each other. If we're not careful, we're going to be each other's victims again rather than equals."
Aang noticed Hakoda nodding respectfully, almost approvingly at Zuko. "I agree. I find this topic distasteful, given that my brother Chief neglected to convince me that Water needs more reparations."
"A lapse in memory," Chief Arnook dismissed. "Forgive me, Brother. We shall speak of this privately- "
"There's no need for privacy," Hakoda assured, ignoring Chief Arnook's irritated glance. "I think Fire Lord Zuko's reparations are the right amount given that Fire's economy has only just begun to recover. Perhaps we can reach an accord in future Great Gatherings, but to demand of the Fire Lord more reparations at this time is ridiculous."
"It reeks of greed," Zuko added.
"It does not, Fire Lord Zuko," King Kuei snapped. "The Avatar spoke of healing. This is how we attain healing."
Aang scoffed and was about to correct King Kuei, but Zuko spoke first, only brow raised. "I thought the Children of Earth hailed self-reliance. Where is your self-reliance now? Must Fire provide everything for you? You often claim and take great pride in the fact that Earth continued fighting until the very end of the Great War. But your reliance on my people's products and my wealth, which I have only just recovered due to my father's shameless policies, speaks more of a conquered people relying on those who conquered them."
"How dare you- "
"It's an observation," Zuko defended, looking close to anger. "I am sorry for what my people did, believe me. But I can't repair the past by sacrificing the future, which is what you demand with these absurd reparations. You're asking for more gold coins than there are Children of Earth!"
"But it matches the number of Children of Earth you mercilessly slaughtered," King Kuei smoothly defended. "All prices must be paid- "
"I'm still waiting for your debt to clear, Kuei," Bumi interrupted, nasally voice hard and uncompromising.
King Kuei's brows tightened. "You will have your payment in time—as we agreed."
Bumi grinned, but there was nothing kind nor fun in it. "And we agreed that we weren't going to outrageously tax the good Fire Lord, who's far more generous than his predecessors. Believe me, out of anyone here beyond The Avatar, I know. The way things are going, you'll start demanding a breathing tax sooner or later!"
Before chaos erupted, and it looked like it might, Aang interrupted: "I think this is all unnecessary. The Fire Lord already provided what he could. This is pointless."
"I don't expect you to understand, Avatar Aang," King Kuei kindly said, eyes tired. "You have no one to look after. I have my people I must look after- "
"As do I," Zuko added flatly.
"As do I," Chief Arnook interjected.
"And I don't!" Aang shouted, and all eyes moved onto him, and he found that he was breathing heavily. "Have I demanded reparations? There is a fundamental imbalance in the world without Air, and Sozin is responsible. But I'm not trying to get even, am I?"
King Kuei sighed and looked apologetic. "Forgive my apparent callousness, but that is because, in fact, you have no people. Air is gone, Avatar Aang, and no matter what you do, they will stay gone. But Earth and Water are still here, and they need help to persist."
Zuko almost seemed to roll his eyes. "Again, the 'conquered' relying on the 'conquerors.' I think Avatar Aang has the right idea- "
"Because he's demanded nothing when he should demand everything!" Chief Arnook snapped, and Aang felt so exhausted by everything. "We do not only need more reparations; we demand them. My beautiful Yue was lost to us because of Fire."
King Kuei nodded in agreement. "Indeed. A price must be paid- "
Bumi snorted and looked disgusted. "That's rich, you unrich king. You were just telling The Avatar that Air is gone, and that no matter what he does, they stay gone. But by such logic, you should say the same thing to Chief Arnook about his dead daughter. The fact that you don't tells me there's something more—some political tomfuckery wrapped in Badgermole shit that you're devoted to—and I don't like it. Be like the earth over which you claim to be its foremost king; be consistent."
King Kuei glared furiously at Bumi but said nothing.
Silence.
"I think we should take a break," Hakoda suggested, standing to his feet with a disgusted look on his face. "We can reconvene later today or tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Zuko said quickly, forcefully.
"Tomorrow," Aang agreed loudly.
No one dared contradict him; maybe there were a few benefits to being The Avatar.
Everyone stood up, and Zuko immediately approached him. Aang met him halfway, finding a secluded corner. "You have to talk to Kuei," Zuko mumbled, keeping his voice low. "His expectations are too high—much too high. He's pressuring me into making a mistake; he's looking for an excuse to renounce me; he's looking for me to retaliate to what he's subjecting me to, and I'm sorely tempted. He's lucky I'm not the boy I was. Otherwise, he'd be dead."
Aang tried to forget he heard such an admission. "I'll talk to him," he assured. "But there's nothing to worry about. Everyone's just tired from the long trips- "
"Kuei and the other earth Kings didn't have to travel far," Zuko pointed out, disgruntled. "We're in the Colonies."
"It looks like Bumi's on your side- "
"For which I thank him. It's hard to find any allies of Fire. I'm worried, Aang."
Zuko really did look worried, and Aang reached out with a supportive hand on his shoulder. "It will be alright. Nothing's going to happen. No one wants another war. It's just the habit of tension. We just have to rebuild trust. Things will get better."
"I'm not so sure."
"What are you afraid of?" he asked quietly.
His friend didn't answer for several moments before shaking his head, face clearing. "I'm afraid that next time I see you, you're going to be taller than me," he lamented with a small smirk.
"Well, at least you have the beard."
"This is a beard?" Zuko asked, pulling at the hairs on his face. "No, this is pathetic. I'm waiting for it to come in, but I know it looks terrible. But I'm tired of people comparing me to my father; I don't want to look like him."
"It will grow in fine," he said, remembering Sozin's great beard in Roku's life.
"But that doesn't solve the height issue. I might just have to fashion a new Fire Crown so it'll make me look taller."
Aang laughed. "I don't think so. I'll just use metalbending to crush it."
Zuko's only eyebrow rose in surprise. "You didn't mention you mastered metalbending, too."
He shrugged, feeling bashful. "I've had a lot of time to myself. I can't just restore the Air Temples all day, right?"
"I imagine it's too depressing," his friend said quietly.
"It is," Aang agreed.
"Did you finish the Western Temple?"
"All that's left is the Eastern."
"I'd like to visit sometime if that's okay," Zuko said slowly, hesitantly. "I've only seen the four Air Temples after they were raided."
Aang smiled, trying to ignore the stirring of his grief. "I'd love it if you visited."
Zuko nodded and something flashed across his face, a nervousness. "Has Toph visited you? Is that how you mastered metalbending?"
He tried to be cheerful. "No. I just had to remember everything that Toph said about it, and I experimented. Experimenting is how new bending forms are realized."
"And… Katara and Sokka?" There was something raw on Zuko's face. "Have you seen them?"
Aang tried to smile. "No, I haven't—not since Katara and I broke up years ago."
"But you write- "
"There are no letters," he interrupted almost harshly. "You're the only one I send letters to."
He couldn't find the words to express his gratitude to Zuko for keeping in touch; sometimes, when he tired of his past lives, Zuko's letters were the only thing that kept him sane, reminded him of better things.
Something in Zuko relaxed, but surprise was on his face before it faded into what looked like relief. "Me too. Well, personal letters, I mean. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to hire a scribe with how cramped my hand gets from all the writing for diplomatic matters and policy measures."
Aang smiled. "I could heal your hand if you want?"
Zuko chuckled. "I'm alright. But in ten years—if I'm alive still—I may take you up on that."
He felt all his amusement disappear. "You are worried."
"I kind of have to be. How's your firebending?"
"I'm not in the mood for a spar."
Zuko smirked. "Me neither. Plus, I think it'd turn into a diplomatic incident. Kuei would probably love to spread the gossip that The Avatar beat the Fire Lord with his own element. It would weaken my position, credibility, and authority."
"You're too hard on him," Aang admonished softly. "He's trying his best."
"So am I."
"I know."
His friend was quiet for several moments. "I'm not really sure how to tell you this, but I found my mother."
Aang's eyes widened. "Really?"
"I did," Zuko confirmed, reaching out a hand and rubbing his neck, looking awkward. "Not many people know that the Dowager Fire Lady has returned, but I wanted to tell you."
"Because we're friends," Aang said softly.
Zuko sagged in relief. "Because we're friends."
"I'm so happy for you," he congratulated honestly, but a small part of him resented Zuko's apparent happiness. He had scoured the earth for those he thought lost and never received anything, never found anyone, but Zuko found his mother, whom he thought lost.
"Thanks, Aang. I was losing hope. It was by accident that I even found her."
"Is she here?" Aang asked, already looking around the room for a woman who could look like Zuko's mother.
"No. I told her to stay at the Caldera. She wouldn't want to come anyway; her attention is on Azula. And she's running things in my stead while I'm stuck here at this dragonshit gathering."
Aang found that he couldn't disagree with the description of the Great Gathering. "How is Azula doing?"
Zuko closed his eyes and looked tired. "She was slowly—too slowly—getting better, but now that Mom is back, it could go either way. Do you have any more ideas on how she could get better? Your idea to give her back her bending did wonders."
"Short of letting her go and be free, I can't think of anything," he replied after several moments of consideration.
"I've had the same thought," Zuko said, bitterly shaking his head. "I'm almost certain she'd heal if I released her and let her live, let her be free, as you said. She's many things, many things, but she's not stupid; she would never try to restart the Great War, especially with a mature and fully realized Avatar out there."
"But you won't release her."
"Because it would be seen as an act of war if I released her. I have to keep her in that cell."
Aang thought a lot about such a situation and realized that, in some ways, he felt the same. Azula was trapped in a cell, and Aang was trapped in The Avatar, unable to live or be free. It was a sobering realization. To be like Azula in anything but prodigiousness was scary.
But that didn't make it any less true.
There were a lot of things that were scary. There was nothing like the mind-destroying terror he felt leading up to facing Ozai and actually facing Ozai, but there were a lot of things that were subtle but permanent rather than intense but brief. But the fear was almost worse, for it had been growing as the years progressed, haunting him, mingling with his anger to produce something dangerous. It was a companion of sorts, one that kept his mind simultaneously focused and hazy.
If he was fearful, it meant he was vigilant, for he was prepared for something to happen, and that was The Avatar's job, wasn't it?
It was always difficult to be The Avatar, to discern his job, when everyone had an opinion on what The Avatar's job entailed. There were those who wanted him to fix their problems and fix the problems of the world; there were those who wanted him to destroy Fire; there were those who wanted him to keep balance, even when very few could ever articulate what balance is; and there were even those who wished his existence finished, resenting the influence and power he had, perceiving The Avatar as a hindrance to natural development for the Four Nations.
Whenever Aang mentioned the blatant similarity to Sozin, those Avatar-resenters, of which he was the foremost, shrank back but still resented.
He had simultaneously too much time and not enough time. When rebuilding the Air Temples, there was too much time, which often eased the pressure of doing his best to revive Air immediately; when he was The Avatar, there wasn't enough time, for he was rarely at the right place, always arriving to clean up messes or settle disputes that had already erupted into minor conflicts.
"Peace belies mortal nature, Aang," Gyatso would say serenely. "So many advocate it, but when it comes to living in peace, it can be tedious, which leads to boredom—a dangerous thing. That is why we distance ourselves from the other nations, but we do not forget them; we keep them in our thoughts and do our best to teach them and guide them when we interact. Some of the greatest people you will ever meet will be people of the other nations—but also the worst. We live on the peaks of mountains inside our Temples that cradle the sky, reminded of the forces of the world that are beyond us, for Nature is sublime and instills in you a sense of awe and grandeur, a feeble recognition of something bigger than yourself—an undeniable majesty that pervades Life and all its children. There is a cosmic cycle, Aang- "
"I know, I know—The Avatar," he recited.
Gyatso smiled gently. "No. The Avatar is the foremost participant in the cosmic cycle, but he is not the cosmic cycle. There are things even bigger than The Avatar."
Aang couldn't believe it; it went against everything he was ever told and heard. "But The Avatar is the Balance-Keeper! How can anything be bigger than The Avatar? The Avatar's the incarnated World Spirit!"
For some reason, Gyatso looked sad and gazed down at him with something Aang couldn't describe; it didn't make sense. "The Avatar is at the mercy of his own limits and understanding, for, despite all his awesome and immortal power, he is still mortal; he lives and dies just as we do; he loves and mourns just as we do; he makes mistakes and betters himself just as we do. It's what allows The Avatar to connect with us. And The Avatar can only see so far, Aang; his vision is wider and more vivid than anyone else's, but it is not forever."
"Because he's mortal."
"Yes."
Aang scrunched his eyebrows and felt a piercing pain erupt somewhere inside him, something familiar but ancient; he didn't know where it came from, but he knew it was his—somehow. "But when he has to maintain balance and stop someone from breaking balance, how does he do that if he might make a mistake? What if he makes a mistake that he didn't mean to make?"
The sudden grief in Gyatso's eyes stole Aang of whatever other words he was going to say. "Oh, Aang. You are so perceptive. I pray you retain your perception when you come of age. Your curiosity may change the world."
"But I don't understand," he said, beginning to feel anxious about how Gyatso stared at him with such concentration, contrasting to how they usually spoke. "What does curiosity have to do with changing the world?"
"Curiosity is the beginning of enlightenment, Aang. Only if you are curious do you seek things out and pursue understanding. Enlightenment means recognition of how things Are, becoming in harmony with what Is; it is realizing the nature of Life and its children. Mortals dominate both extremes, good and bad."
"But why do some people choose bad, Gyatso?" Aang would ask, confused, unable to understand. "It doesn't make sense."
"Bad choices have their source in many things. In my experience, desperation is one of the foremost sources; shame is another, and so is pride. Humility is of the utmost importance. To be humble- "
"Is to be better," he recited. "But it's hard to be humble!"
"It is, Aang," Gyatso agreed, laughing. "It's part of growing up and reaching enlightenment. Life is miraculously complex, something beyond anyone's perception?"
Aang nodded, remembering Gyatso's earlier wisdom. "Including The Avatar's."
Gyatso stared at him for several moments with a small but pained smile. "Yes. Maybe especially The Avatar's. We are all, including The Avatar, mortal, and we use mortal means when trying to comprehend the Immortal, which causes us to confine Life into cramped, warped bundles of understanding, creating an illusion of control, provoked by feeble arrogance. As you grow older, you will be surprised by how many things you do that have their innermost source in illusions rather than fact and truth. To reach enlightenment, you must unburden yourself from such an illusion and achieve humility as you realize you are beholden to what Is."
"Can't you start at humility?"
"No. Your journey starts at pride and advances to humility, never the other way around. Events in your life challenge your pride, which makes you manifest humility, for it is the only solution; it the way."
"But when the big moments happen, doesn't the humility come after those big moments, Gyatso?"
"Maybe it is not the big moments in your life that challenge you and, thus, define you," Gyatso contested kindly. "Maybe it is the little moments—for the little moments in our lives are all that we have."
Aang hated the little moments, for they only reminded him that he was alone, abandoned by his friends, and deprived of the 'family' he was promised.
At least he got to see Bumi as often as he saw Zuko at the Great Gathering, but the sight of Bumi always filled him with grief, for he had the suspicion that the connection he felt to Bumi was nowhere near as strong for Bumi; it was impossible to reciprocate. They could never be friends again, not really.
The intensifying feeling led to him keeping his distance from him—which Bumi noticed.
"I haven't had someone avoid me this hard since a nice girl I dated over ninety years ago!" Bumi greeted, seemingly waiting for him in the hall to his temporary quarters.
"Sounds like she wasn't nice," Aang responded slowly.
Bumi cackled. "I wasn't talking about her personality, Aang."
"I think I know why she avoided you," he observed with a laugh, feeling his spirits lighten at being in Bumi's presence. But he knew it wouldn't last.
"She was ashamed she wasn't as good as me," Bumi dismissed before turning that eerie gaze on him. "Are you ashamed, too, Aang?"
"I think The Avatar is better than Omashu's king."
Bumi looked around before leaning in conspiratorial. "He's better than Ba Sing Se's king, too."
He blinked in surprise. "You really don't like Kuei."
"He's a prick," his old friend assured with such confidence. "Makes me miss Long Feng. At least that joy-kill knew how to maintain unity."
Aang remembered Chyung's king and Zaofu's king, both of whom seemed to support King Kuei staunchly. "It kind of seems that you're the one who doesn't know how to maintain unity."
"It's the game of politics," Bumi dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Kuei's learned a few things, but that doesn't mean they're good things."
"I think you're too hard on him."
Bumi suddenly seemed to reflect his actual age, and it made Aang want to cry. "How are you, Aang?"
"Hungry."
Normally, such a quip would have delighted Bumi, but there was no response but sadness. "Hungry for connection, perhaps?"
"I'm restoring the Air Temples," he deflected. "I finished the Southern and Northern. I have the Eastern and Western left."
"Are they beautiful?"
"They're more beautiful than I've ever seen—on the outside."
Bumi seemed to age even more until he looked older than he was. "That's good. I never had the heart to try to rebuild them, and I wouldn't have done a good job."
He blinked in surprise. "You went?"
"Of course," Bumi said, voice drifting through memories Aang couldn't access. "I was sixteen when Sozin unleashed his evil. The first thing I did after I heard the news was travel to the Southern Temple."
Aang found it difficult to prevent the mist in his eyes, but he succeeded. "I never knew that."
"My father wasn't pleased," his old friend said, lopsided eyes dimming. "I stole all his money to finance my trip and brought about his financial ruin. He killed himself to escape his debt."
"I'm sorry."
Bumi sat on a small stool of stone that suddenly appeared. "Don't worry about it. My father wasn't a good man."
"Still, I'm sorry."
"Not as sorry as I was when I got to the Southern Temple. I couldn't believe it. It was right in front of me; bodies were everywhere, and I still couldn't believe it. I thought you were among them." Something heavy fell in Aang's chest. "I looked as much as I could bear, but it wasn't much. I'll always remember the smell." Bumi glanced at him, something panicked in his face, which Aang had thought impossible. "Is it still there?"
Aang shook his head, unable to speak, too emotional.
"That's good. I was so pissed—and that doesn't describe it accurately—that I traveled back a different route and purposefully caused havoc, so the Fire Nation would find me. It was a suicidal fury, and I've never regretted it one second. I fucked up some minor convoys, and I killed every Fire Nation soldier who found me. Then I got back to Omashu, still so hateful—it was a hate that would never die, only brighten or diminish in its intensity. My dad had killed himself, and I had nothing left—except my hate. I joined the war effort. I cursed Sozin's name every chance I got, and I looked for you. I thought if anyone could survive it, it was you—but I never found you. I waited for The Avatar to show up and destroy Fire, for I thought that The Avatar survived the attack. I even had the dream that you and The Avatar were friends, that I would find the both of you and bring back joy to the world. I even met a few Airbenders who escaped, and I asked after you and The Avatar, but they were paranoid and wouldn't say a word; they even attacked me and fled. Never blamed them, all things considered."
"I'm sorry," Aang whispered, unable to say anything else, the guilt and remorse consuming him.
"You shouldn't be," Bumi replied, voice far away. "Sozin should be sorry, but he wasn't. I saw."
He tensed. "You saw Sozin?"
"Met him—if you could even call it that. He held my life in his hands, and the only reason I'm still here is that he had small use of me. He tasked me to deliver a message to Omashu's king and let me go."
Silence.
"I wish you killed him," Aang said quietly, unable to help it.
Bumi locked gazes with him. "Me too. It's one of my deepest regrets—that I was too weak to kill Sozin, that I failed to avenge your death and the death of Air. Sozin spared me so that I would live in shame, haunted by the day I gazed into Evil's eyes and could do nothing, too impotent. I tell you all of this for a reason, Aang."
"Why?"
His old friend's eyes were ancient; they seemed older than Pathik's eyes. "If you're ashamed, you shouldn't be. The Great War was always going to happen because Roku couldn't tell his thumb from his penis. You didn't have to see the worst of Mortality, to see what men can do when hateful. I did terrible—terrible—things to try to avenge your death and the death of Air. I killed those who deserved death, and I killed those who didn't, too hateful to care. If you knew the extent of my crimes, you wouldn't be able to look at me the same way, and I can't bear the thought of that, so I won't tell you." Something haunted and weary crossed Bumi's face. "But I've been punished for my crimes. I have much to be ashamed of, so much, but you don't. Only children or fools blame you for anything that's happened. If you need to blame someone, you blame Roku but never yourself. It's not your fault; it never was."
Aang sniffed and wiped away his tears. "Maybe one day I'll believe that."
"Air's death isn't your fault, either."
"Again, maybe one day I'll believe that."
Bumi smiled sadly. "I look forward to feeling Air's energy again; it's been so long."
If Aang thought it was a long time, he couldn't imagine how Bumi felt—and Pathik. "I don't know when I'll start the revival, but I will."
"You know what you have to do," his old friend said, lopsided eyes lighting up.
"I'm not bedding every fertile woman in the world."
Bumi was aghast. "Why not? I would if I were you. Maybe it'd almost make up for what happened."
"Nothing would do that."
"No, nothing would."
Aang tried to help the leaders of the other nations understand such a truth—nothing makes up for what happened; no kind words; no apologies; no reparations. Nothing makes anyone forget the horror, grief, and trauma provoked by Sozin. He tried to make everyone he encountered who pleaded for Fire's destruction see the truth that destroying Fire only elicits more destruction. And the world was destroyed enough without Air and the countless who died in the Great War under Sozin's tyranny. Destruction was the antithesis of healing, but there were so many—too many—who thought destruction was the only way forward, too consumed by the idea of vengeance.
He understood such a notion—he understood better than anyone—but he understood that not all feelings, like destroying Fire because of Sozin's greed and apathy, were right and true. There were some feelings so rotten and depraved that they marred the soul.
Aang was more familiar with those rotten and depraved feelings than he wanted to admit. But he tried to live the wisdom that he knew was true, endorsed by his people for thousands of years, doing his best to set an example, both as Aang and The Avatar.
Deep down, he knew he was failing—but he was one of many who failed to live it.
Particularly, King Kuei seemed most resilient to the notion of forgiveness. It grieved Aang, for he felt an almost kinship with the man, for both of them were forced into unbearable situations and horrified by the tarnished world around them, jarred from their isolation and illusions. Aang was The Avatar, and King Kuei was Ba Sing Se's king, and he knew they could do great things together to help the world heal, especially with Zuko's help, but Aang kept having difficulty adjusting to the politics and the new nature of the world—fundamental imbalance.
Aang felt that King Kuei adapted far more easily than he did.
But Kuei proved most rigid rather than adaptable in refusing forgiveness and healing.
"Avatar Aang," King Kuei greeted, coming toward him with purpose. "Do you have a moment?"
Aang sighed and knew that even if he said no, King Kuei would demand his presence, assuring him it was a minor issue. But it was never a minor issue. Too many times he and King Kuei had discussed the world's situation, but due to the political nature of the talks, nothing real and raw was said, which was the only way to get to the root of the problem.
He knew he had to change his tactics. "Of course," he said graciously. "What is it?"
King Kuei stopped in front of him, eyes triumphant. "Chief Arnook shared some intriguing news."
"What is it?"
"He named Chief Hakoda's son, your friend, Sokka as his heir." Aang stiffened and watched as Kuei shook his head approvingly. "I admire Chief Hakoda's political dexterity in pulling it off. It happened immediately after the last Great Gathering when Chief Arnook went with Chief Hakoda to the South, and a compromise was reached. I helped encourage Chief Arnook to see reason and go with his brother Chief, naming the correct—only—heir. It was a political deal with Hakoda, one whose outcome pleases me."
"What does Sokka being Chief Arnook's heir have to do with anything?" he asked, voice far away.
"It is of incredible political significance, Avatar Aang! Surely you comprehend what is happening. The Water Tribes are unifying! There will be a single Chief of Water."
Aang narrowed his eyes, having a sinking feeling. "To go along with a single Lord of Fire."
King Kuei nodded, a victorious smile on his face. "And to go along with a single High Monk of Air. Earth needs to catch up with the other nations."
"And you propose that you become the single King of Earth," he said flatly.
"Precisely."
"And Omashu, Chyung, and Zaofu?" Aang asked, fearing the answer. "King Bumi will never- "
"King Bumi shall see reason," King Kuei dismissed with confidence. "Chyung and Zaofu will follow; they and I have already discussed it. They think it would be most beneficial."
"Willingly or unwillingly?"
King Kuei's smile vanished, replaced by something calculating. "Are you accusing me of something, Avatar Aang?"
"Why help Chief Hakoda?" he asked. "Why help Sokka gain such a prominent position?"
"Chief Hakoda proposed a permanent alliance between Earth and Water, a very valuable arrangement. It ensures that when Fire Lord Zuko attacks- "
"He won't," Aang stressed in irritation.
"- Earth will have a perennial ally with whom to vanquish Fire."
Aang shook his head. "I find your sudden generosity at odds with your enduring contempt for Fire- "
"Water did not commit atrocities- "
"All nations have committed atrocities throughout their history. Water's atrocities are older, but they happened all the same. Water, Earth, and Fire are all guilty."
King Kuei raised a derisive brow. "And Air is not?"
"Air is not," Aang confirmed with an adamant nod.
"Be that as it may," King Kuei remarked after several long moments, "this is a cause to celebrate. This permanent alliance will be for the betterment of the world. Earth and Water will be tied together forever."
"Permanent alliance," he echoed, something rising inside, a suspicion of the inevitable. "As in- "
"Marriage," King Kuei confirmed, eyes assessing him curiously. "In two years' time, I shall marry your friend, Katara. According to her father, she needs more time to finish rebuilding the South, and I see no rush. Two years is generous but understandable."
He stared at him uncomprehendingly. "You're marrying Katara?"
King Kuei's eyes gleamed. "It is an excellent political match, and, according to Chief Arnook, who saw her recently, she has matured beautifully."
"But you're so much older," he blurted out, unable to help himself, trying to wrap his head around it all.
"Are you not senior to everyone in this world except King Bumi, Avatar Aang?"
Aang shook his head in amazement, not wanting to think about Pathik, and almost laughed. "You're marrying Katara."
King Kuei peered up at him curiously. "Does this displease you?"
After the Great War, he stayed for over a year in the Fire Nation after Zuko's ascension to help his friend solidify his rule, ensuring any rebellions—there were only minor ones, thankfully—were non-fatal to the new Fire Lord. After his stay with Zuko, he traveled throughout the Earth Kingdom to settle disputes, spending almost another year there before he journeyed to the Water Tribes to help their rebuilding process.
When visiting the South and reuniting with Katara, he realized he didn't love Katara, only the idea of her; he had been a child in hysterical need of a nurturing mother in a world where everything he knew, cherished, and loved was gone, murdered in a desperate ploy by Sozin to murder The Avatar. As his mother, Katara soothed the grief that threatened his sanity and kept him focused on what he needed to do during the Great War—stop the Fire Nation and defeat Ozai. She took the time and let him be a kid and played with him often, even when they were supposed to train.
Katara had been his mother, the one he needed.
However, he had gotten it twisted, not understanding the concept of a mother because of the way he was raised by his people; his people had no mothers, only mentors. He was taught that love was possible when two Air Nomads wed, and he knew he loved Katara, so he reasonably made the conclusion that he was in love with Katara and wanted to marry her rather than recognizing that he loved Katara because she was his mother.
How naïve—he often missed such naivety.
And the older he aged, the more he realized that Katara would hate being married to him, unable to accept him as The Avatar. Aang couldn't accept himself as The Avatar so he doubted he would ever find a woman who could, but Katara certainly couldn't. She feared him, not Aang but The Avatar. He always saw it in her eyes as she looked at him after The Avatar State in trepidation —in hope that the horrifying monster was gone.
Who wouldn't be horrified by The Avatar State?
And The Avatar belonged to the world first. Marriage and family would always be second or even third. Katara could never and would never accept that, which would produce countless fights that Aang couldn't control—because he was cursed as The Avatar. Also, Katara wouldn't want the pressure of being the Mother of Air, bearing an entire nation.
It was awkward when he visited the South, and Aang ended things with her even more awkwardly. Katara wasn't disappointed; actually, the opposite, if he wasn't mistaken. But the tension remained. He wasn't sure they knew how to even talk without the background and pressure of the Great War. Everything changed, and it wasn't what he wanted.
So, he left, bitter—and the bitterness only grew as no communication occurred between them over the years.
Since breaking up with her, he kept his gaze attentive when meeting people, trying to meet a woman who could occupy such a position, be worthy of it. The sages of each nation pestered him to bed as many women as possible, even at such a young age, to bring life to his dead race, but every time he considered it, for he had to consider it, he found the idea distasteful.
But he was The Avatar, which meant his feelings never mattered. It was his duty to preserve balance, and there would never be balance with only three nations. Air needed to return. The Avatar Cycle could not be broken, for he knew the consequences when The Avatar was thought lost, and Aang could not, no matter how much he sometimes wanted to, doom the world because of his selfishness.
He would concede to the sages if he had to, but it's not what he wanted. He feared—and knew—that such a thing would only make him feel more alone as The Avatar. Maybe if he wasn't The Avatar and a regular Airbender, he would find joy in reviving his race in such a way—and find a lot of pleasure, according to what Sokka said—but he wasn't a regular Airbender; he never was even when he thought he was.
But no matter how much Aang yearned for a loyal and devoted wife who would help him with his duty and be reasonable and understanding, he knew that The Avatar was not blessed by fortune with happiness in his personal life. As far as he knew, Roku was the only Avatar with a happy marriage. Yangchen never married, by her own admission, focused on the world, never having the pressure of providing more Airbenders for the world; Kuruk spread his seed across the nations, but his only love was Ummi, whose face was snatched by Koh, producing her early death; and Kyoshi never married to his knowledge.
Aang foresaw a tragic fate for his potential marriage—just like everything else.
But the women who offered themselves to him—and there so many he could feel Kuruk's own lust begin to impact him sometimes—never appealed to him beyond the possible physical. And as The Avatar, he needed more than that. He wanted a woman who wouldn't fear him and who would accept all parts of him, both the honorable and horrible, and challenge him with honesty and reason. He needed a woman willing to help him restore Air, proud rather than disappointed when her children were Airbenders and not the benders of her homeland. But he didn't want a woman too willing, who only wanted him for the power, fame, and glory it would inevitably bring her. The Mother of Air's name would echo throughout history.
Several poets he talked to had already started composing songs of such a magnificent woman and merely awaited on Aang to provide the name of the woman he chose to bear an entire nation.
But what woman could bear such pressure?
Katara couldn't, and she was the strongest girl he had ever met; Toph was second, but she would hate the pressure and tell anyone who demanded to know where the new Airbenders were to 'fuck off'. But if she said such a thing, it would cause a diplomatic incident.
There really was no hope for him.
"No, your impending marriage with Katara doesn't displease me," Aang answered with a smile. "You have my congratulations. I hope you're both happy."
King Kuei inclined his head. "Yes, thank you, Avatar Aang. Things are looking brighter. There are many more solutions now. With the next Great Gathering, when Chief Hakoda comes, he will bring his son and introduce him as the heir of the Water Tribes."
Aang decided right then and there not to attend the next Great Gathering.
"A big day for the Water Tribes," he commented, hoping his distress wasn't apparent.
Thankfully, King Kuei didn't seem to sense his distress. "Indeed. And Chief Hakoda may bring my future bride. I think I will request he do."
Aang clearly made the right decision.
"There was another reason I wished to speak with you—a more important and thrilling reason, actually."
"Which was?"
"I have a proposal to fix the imbalance of the world. What would be your response to it, Avatar Aang?"
He tried not to roll his eyes. "King Kuei, we've discussed this numerous times. The sages are already pressuring me to spread my seed; I don't need you to- "
"No, that is not it," King Kuei interrupted. "This is a new solution, one I conceived myself; it will be my defining moment as king. History will remember this solution and marvel at my ingenuity. It will be a new, purer age where peace and balance are actually possible."
"And this solution isn't me spreading my seed of Air?" he asked, doubtful.
"I find your abstinence remarkable, but that's beside the point. There were Four Nations- "
"There still are," Aang cut in adamantly. "Air will return. We've discussed this."
"This time, my responses are not seeped in dishonesty and condolence," King Kuei said boldly, and Aang tried to keep up. "Despite your claims, Avatar Aang, and the claims of the sages, I am not inclined to agree with such a far-fetched solution. Right now, there are only Three Nations—a fundamental imbalance."
"So, you are still pressuring me to bring back Air as soon as possible," he said.
King Kuei shook his head. "No. I have doubts Air can return. I must be honest—I find it an impossibility."
Something cold and terrifying settled in Aang's heart; King Kuei had certainly decided to change his tactics, too. "What are you saying?"
"We must fix the imbalance. There are three nations. There must be balance, which will only be possible if there are two nations—for balance."
He clutched his staff to maintain his balance as the realization rocked him like Azula's lightning under Ba Sing Se. "You're proposing genocide," he whispered, voice barely heard due to the chaos and images in his mind.
"For the greater good," King Kuei stressed urgently. "And it is not like it is undeserved. I thought that you, above all, would understand, Avatar Aang. Fire reduced Air to nothingness. Earth and Water must unite and reduce Fire to nothingness as well—for balance. And we would like your endorsement; we would like your help. There will be the Two Nations, and the world will be in balance."
Aang blinked hard, the sickening sensation growing inside, and he swallowed. "You just want revenge against Fire."
King Kuei sighed. "Do not subject me to your moralizing. This is a solution—the foremost solution—to the problems plaguing all of us—most especially you. To cite your thought of vengeance, is that not what you want? There is no one of Air because of Fire, and Air is forever lost- "
"You don't get to say that," Aang interrupted, trying to control his breathing. "You know nothing."
King Kuei frowned, eyes assessing and hard. "I know the political climate, Avatar Aang; I know the nature of us all. I know my people, who fought long and hard for a century, spilling blood, to fight back against Fire's injustices. I know their severe discontent—and my own—with your lethargic judgment. Now I insist you feel the discontent."
"There will be no judgment," Aang snapped, voice uncompromising; he gripped his glider tightly as he summoned his new tactics. "There will be Four Nations. There will not be three; there will not be two. We will rebuild, not destroy further."
"The Fire Lord's reparations are not enough," King Kuei said with a regretful sigh. "Chief Arnook agrees with me, and all the Kings of Earth do—except King Bumi."
Aang shook his head. "Because Bumi understands that no reparations are enough."
King Kuei smiled. "Exactly."
"No," he continued. "Only healing can take place going forward. Fire Lord Zuko has provided many reparations- "
"He has refused to relinquish Princess Azula to stand trial, as she should."
Aang hated politics. "You would execute her."
King Kuei only raised a brow. "So? It is of the natural order. Only execution is suitable for the crimes she committed."
"I spared Ozai," he stressed, hoping Kuei could see reason. "I passed my judgment, and I expect you to follow it. If not, you will feel my discontent."
"Indeed, you passed your judgment," King Kuei agreed, voice darkening. "You do not expect me to do anything, Avatar Aang, least of all follow your absurdity. Everything has a price, and some prices can only be paid in blood. I respect your judgment against Fire Lord Ozai and do not demand his execution. Fire Lord Zuko can do whatever he wishes with his powerless father. But I do demand Princess Azula."
"You want to make her your scapegoat," he realized.
"She conquered Ba Sing Se- "
"So did Fire Lord Zuko."
"And I have forgiven Fire Lord Zuko for his role- "
"It doesn't seem like you have."
King Kuei's composure cracked for a moment, and he inhaled slowly. "Princess Azula conquered Ba Sing Se and threatened not only my life but Bosco's life." King Kuei stretched his neck and pulled back the fabric against his neck, revealing on his throat a burn scar the length of a finger. "She marked me, and I know she would have opened me from end-to-end."
"Executing her isn't the answer," Aang cut in, shaking his head firmly. "I have seen her myself, and Fire Lord Zuko has allowed Earth Kingdom physicians to see her, to verify the truth—her mind has fractured, and she isn't there. Believe me, I knew Azula a lot better than you. She's not faking it; it's not a ploy to extend her life. She went insane. You know it as well as I do."
King Kuei glanced down the hall; they were alone. Aang was relieved; if Zuko were in the vicinity and heard the 'solution,' he was almost certain that the Fire Lord would murder the King of Ba Sing Se on the spot.
"There must be something we can do, Avatar Aang. It has been seven years since the Great War ended, and what was promised to us has not been fulfilled; it is not enough."
"Because it never was," Aang challenged quietly. "You believe the misconception that anything, any reparations, can provide healing. When you place a fiscal value on healing, it is much more akin to prostitution than healing."
King Kuei's lips thinned. "You suggest to- "
"Don't bother with the reparations. They do nothing in the end."
"We need a solution, Avatar Aang."
"There is one," he said in exasperation. "Forgiveness."
"Forgiveness?" King Kuei echoed with a scoff before turning a challenging eye against him. "So, you forgive Fire for your race's demise?"
Aang stiffened. "I spared Ozai," he said, hating how his voice darkened in what seemed like a threat. "I showed mercy."
"What about the Defiler?"
He blinked. "What? Who?"
"Fire Lord Sozin."
He felt Roku stir inside him. "I'm ambivalent toward him," he said after several tense moments of trying to keep his control and not waver.
King Kuei looked both unconvinced and unimpressed. "Ambivalent? The Defiler conquered your people and obliterated them from memory; he likely raped your women before throwing them into the fire. Not one was spared."
Aang felt his fists clench, and images flashes in his mind, fueled by his imagination that always focused on the worst transgression ever to affect the Four Nations. "Stop," he whispered.
"He likely took great pleasure in slaughtering the young," King Kuei continued, voice detached. "There are annals in our library that tell of his exploits, shared by an Airbender who miraculously managed to flee the siege—before he was hunted down and slaughtered, of course. Your kinsman said that the Defiler ripped limbs and fed them to his dragon in front of his victims. He would burn them slowly, savoring every moment of torture he could inflict, motivated by the sounds of their agony, their weeping and pleading. Your kinsman said every time he asked for The Avatar's location and failed to receive it, he would shoot small jets of flame into all orifices, burning his victims from the inside out—a slow and torturous- "
"Enough!" Aang roared, almost falling into The Avatar State but managing not to; the new tactics were on full display. "You're going to bring me every annal from your library that contains such information about the events after the Great Comet pertaining to my people, and you will have someone copy all of them onto scrolls for me."
"I am?" King Kuei asked, looking displeased.
Aang clenched his glider, eyes narrowing. "You are."
"Very well. But such a reaction is not a reaction of ambivalence, Avatar Aang- "
"I hate Sozin," he admitted, something gnawing at him—the familiar sensation of the dark emotions he refused to acknowledge.
King Kuei's eyes lit up. "And what would you do if you had the chance to encounter him?"
Aang felt his heart race from such a thought. "I would inflict against him everything he did to my people."
King Kuei looked smug—and vindicated. "Indeed. How you feel about Fire Lord Sozin is how I feel about Fire. Everything they did to me and my people, I wish to inflict on them."
"And Azula is the scapegoat," he concluded flatly.
"Princess Azula must pay the price for her transgressions; she must be the scapegoat to purify Fire of its sins. Only once she is sacrificed may Earth consider forgiveness, and I may be more open to a world with Fire remaining in it. Either accept my proposal to secure balance—Two Nations; Water and Earth—or demand Fire Lord Zuko to release his sister into my custody, so that the path of healing you so praise can be realized."
Aang remained quiet for several moments and shook his head. "But you don't know one thing."
"Which is?"
"There's someone I hate more than Sozin."
King Kuei looked fascinated. "Fire Lord Ozai? Fire Lord Zuko?"
"Myself."
King Kuei's eyes widened. "That is- "
"Exactly like you, isn't it?" he interrupted, not recognizing how his voice became almost vicious. "You don't hate Azula; you hate that you were powerless under her."
"Because of what she did!"
"But if you had power of your own you would have repelled her power with your power. You hate that you didn't have such power. You hate yourself, King Kuei." Aang leaned forward, finished with the conversation, and he let his discontent show. "You are going to accept the reality of Azula's condition; you are going to forget this madness of annihilating Fire; you are going to accept that there will be the Four Nations; you are going to accept that I will revive Air—in time when it is time; and you are going to bring all those annals and copy them for me."
King Kuei was pale and shook slightly before he inclined his head, eyes flashing with resentment. "It was a pleasure, Avatar Aang."
"Remember the annals," he called out as King Kuei stalked off.
Aang never attended the following Great Gatherings. He wished he could say it was because of an important Avatar issue—something to do with the Spirit World, perhaps—but that wasn't the truth.
Simply, he didn't want to see Sokka—or Katara if she were there.
Based on Zuko's letters, it had been awkward, and nothing changed. King Kuei, according to Zuko, was even more unbearable than usual because of his glee over marrying Katara and demanded more reparations. Apparently, Aang's absence caused a massive stir, culminating in curious and vicious rumors, and hysteria due to his thought-to-be death almost led to the Great Gathering being canceled, but Zuko said he managed to keep everything on track, something Zuko confessed he regretted.
Should have just let it all go to shit, his friend wrote. It would have been easier to clean up.
Zuko offered very sparse details about Sokka, Katara, and Suki, and Aang found himself thankful.
But his gratitude was always consumed by his despair and bitterness.
Aang stared into the sky as he sat at the peak of the Southern Air Temple; the meditation did nothing to ease his mind—like always. The pervading, permanent silence was too hauntingly familiar to him; the Temple was ready and waiting, but it remained lifeless. There was no one to share its beauty and history with, no one in whom to instill its teachings and wisdom. He saw the memories of the murdered airbending children—the friends he abandoned—too frequently, making him feel the loss so much more as he gazed at the images of them; he could see them, but they couldn't see him.
There was still the haunting silence.
There was no one, and Aang was tired of being alone. No matter what he did, his loneliness never vanished, only decreased in its intensity.
He needed to decrease its intensity now.
The familiar, ancient cloud floated out from his body and swirled before it revealed Roku, who came to sit beside him, silent.
"How was Ta Min so accepting?" he finally asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean? You were The Avatar, and she accepted that. How?"
Roku placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. "When love is real, it finds a way- "
Aang brushed his hand off. "Don't give me simple platitudes," he snapped. "How? Why was she able to- "
"She was a noble," Roku interrupted, voice serious. "We both were. Why else was I raised with Sozin?"
"Then you should have been a peasant," Aang muttered darkly. "Maybe you could have been 'decisive'."
Roku looked sad. "It would have changed much, but I cannot imagine my life without Sozin; he was as big an influence and impact on me as Ta Min; perhaps greater since we were as brothers. But Ta Min knew expectations and understood them; she recognized that I had duties I had to fulfill, and she accepted it."
"So, I should arrange a political marriage?" he asked doubtfully, even though the thought had never occurred to him. "I'm not aware of anyone available who I would accept but Katara, who's technically a princess, and King Kuei's niece. But King Kuei wants her married to Zuko! And I've never even met her, only heard about her."
"I imagine marriage with The Avatar is more promising than marriage to the Fire Lord."
Aang doubted it. "You haven't seen his focus on Zuko. He wants her married to Zuko, but Zuko keeps rejecting it. If I was him, I would've accepted just to get him to stop pestering me about it!"
"You may not need a political match," Roku said after several moments.
"Since there are so few tolerable options."
"Based on my few conversations with Kuruk, Ummi was no noble or heiress in the Water Tribes. She was a regular woman, and she loved him; she accepted him as The Avatar."
"And look what that got her," he mumbled, feeling Kuruk's force of rage simmering in his soul.
Roku's face was warm and kind. "Not everything in The Avatar's life is tragic, Aang. You will find peace."
"How?" he demanded, voice softening as he gazed around the Southern Air Temple, stretching his bending senses; there was only emptiness. "How can I ever have peace? I've invested so much time in restoring Air, but I'm still empty. Peace is a better Airbender than I could be, for its eluded me for years. I've traveled the world several times over, and I've sought it out, but it's nowhere to be found. I see the boys I knew here, doing the same activities they once did, but they're not real; they're only my memories, my mind trying to fill in what needs to be filled in, but there's still nothing when there should be something—anything but this damning silence. I must be descending into madness—I must be. What other explanation is there? Is that going to be my legacy? After everything I've done, I'll just be known as the Mad Balance-Keeper who failed to revive Air. My successors will always bypass me, too ashamed that they lived such a pathetic life."
"What is your problem, Aang?" Roku's voice sounded the same as it always was, and Aang tried to take peace from the steady sound but failed.
"Problem? I'm confused; I'm tired."
"Tired?"
"Tired of everything; tired of my confusion; tired of this silence; tired of being The Avatar."
"You feel your burden as Avatar more than ever before."
"That's not it," he replied, shaking his head. "I've felt the burden for eight years now. But nothing changes; things only seem to get worse. I don't know what to do. I ended the Great War, but why does it feel like I still have so much more to do?"
"That is the burden," Roku declared, his powerful voice echoing into the mountains below them. "Many are jealous and wish our power for their own, but they are ignorant, so terribly ignorant. In each lifetime we lived, we have never wanted to be The Avatar and wanted to give the title and power to someone else—except, Kuruk, but he later realized the curse that we have always been burdened with."
Aang sighed, knowing the story, and knowing the critical detail Roku omitted. "But Kuruk remained arrogant and became worse; he abandoned his duty to travel the Spirit World to search for Koh."
"Indeed."
"I wish I was bold enough to do that," he admitted quietly. "I could go to the Gardens of the Dead and cherish my people and cleanse myself of this madness."
Roku's lined face became more pronounced in his concern. "The world cannot endure The Avatar's absence again- "
"I know!" Aang interrupted, voice rising. "I know. But I want it. The world betrayed me, and I want to betray it, in turn. Maybe Kuruk had the right approach."
"Kuruk was always corrupt, like we all are, but he was corrupted so much further by his grief over Ummi's demise," Roku countered, keeping his gaze. "You have always been a gentle soul. Do not become corrupted by grief as Kuruk did. It is an all-too-familiar sight—a man's heart overtakes his soul, obscuring the man he once was. You have suffered your whole life, Aang, and that is my fault. I failed in my duty, in ways that are unbecoming of an Avatar, and I left you the burden of fixing all my mistakes. Nothing from the past one-hundred twenty years would have happened if I did my job."
"I've forgiven you for that, Roku."
"But you resent it."
"I resent the situation, not you or the fact that I've forgiven you; I resent all of this; I resent my life and the things I've been forced to do."
Roku only closed his eyes, ignoring Aang's words, and he saw memories of his life flash before his eyes and, throughout it all, he heard Roku's voice. "You were different from the other Air Nomads but never realized until you were told of your identity as Avatar much too soon. When you awoke from a century's sleep, it was to a world ravished by war. Everything was different, and you were bereft of Air, with no one to share in your grief because of my mistakes. You were given the impossible task of mastering the elements in less than a year and defeat the Fire Nation. You have witnessed so much death, and people died by your hands."
Aang tensed in outrage, ignoring the sudden images of the Northern Air Temple, Fire Navy, and General Fong's Base—and so many others. "That wasn't me; it was The Avatar State! If anything, it was you! It's always been you!"
"It was you- "
"No, it wasn't! I'm of Air! I would never kill- "
"You are The Avatar," Roku corrected softly but pointedly. "You are of Air, yes, but you are also of Water, of Earth, and of Fire—just as I was and just as every Avatar, Air Nomad or not."
"But I would never kill those people!" Aang cried out in disbelief.
Roku looked sad but immovable. "You would never kill on purpose. You are capable of unimaginable rage, Aang. When The Avatar State is triggered when you are in emotional distress, your anger combines with all your predecessors and all the negative mortal emotions they experience during their reigns as Avatar. When this happens, people inevitably get caught in the crossfire. When gods fight or get angry, mortals are the ones who die, not the gods."
Aang shook his head, trying to stop the flashes, the mists of absence—for which he was responsible! A deep part of him recognized that Roku was correct, but the sightless eyes were too much; he couldn't accept it; he couldn't! It meant ruining the only thing he had left!
He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring his tears. "My only connection left with my people is the fact that my hands are clean—just as theirs were. I killed no one; I wouldn't. I'm innocent and pure like they were."
"I killed during my reign as Avatar," Roku divulged with a grim smile, whispers of sadness at the edges. "I should have killed Sozin—I know that now. Even though he was my best friend, I should have killed him for the good of the world. But I refused, allowing sentiment to cloud my judgment—and you know the result. I should have killed him."
Aang couldn't disagree with his announcement. "You should have," he mumbled in agreement. "What about those others? Do you regret it?"
"No."
"What?" he demanded. "Sozin deserved it, but those didn't- "
"You know nothing about those events nor who those people were," Roku retorted, voice hard, on the brink of reprimanding. "You cannot judge that which you don't know. Otherwise, you could never condemn those who praise Sozin's actions against your people."
His eyes narrowed into slits, the air around them beginning to howl with displeasure. "Don't ever say such a thing! Anyone who says that deserves the fate of my people!"
"And Ozai?"
Aang froze and shook his head. "That was different. I took his bending. And I don't regret it; I never will."
Roku seemed weary. "Just as I will never regret killing those people I killed out of necessity. I wish I could say I did regret it, but I don't; they deserved it. It is our duty to preserve peace no matter what, Aang; we must keep balance. That is the sole purpose for which The Avatar exists. I know you were born of the Airbender, but you are a Waterbender, Earthbender, and Firebender, too. You are all the elements, just as you are all the nations. Sometimes the only solution is the vilest. In every lifetime, we have killed because there is always a threat, and it is The Avatar's duty to prevent threats. Do you think the Air Avatars haven't killed?"
He tensed and stubbornly held firm. "They didn't."
"If you are so sure, summon Yangchen, and we shall hear the answer."
Aang swallowed, unable to summon her, remembering her words to him the day before he faced Ozai all those years ago.
Roku smiled kindly and began to fade away. "You must make the hard decisions; you must do what I couldn't. Think about the advice I've given you, and, though you have transformed, retain your familiarity; do not become someone unrecognizable. Remember who you are. You are never alone, Aang."
He absorbed the dispersed mist that was Roku, mind in turmoil.
Feeling further separated from his people, he flew down to the library, one of the biggest parts of the Southern Air Temple. Initially, he had been surprised it survived the attack over a century ago, but he was more than grateful, nonetheless. The scrolls were even pristine when they should show signs of erosion and decay.
He spent much of his time in the library, trying to absorb everything he could about his people. When he ran away all those years ago, he hadn't known everything he should have about Air Nomad culture, only twelve. Now that he was the last of Air, he imposed on himself the pressure of mastering the knowledge available to him.
The library was massive, and he always felt wary that Wan Shi Tong would try to pilfer the Air Temples of their knowledge, which had been amassed for thousands of years, since the dawn of the Air Nomads. Every time he left the Air Temple, something tightened in him, a wariness; he was only restored when he returned and found the knowledge untouched.
But it still grieved him, for Airbenders should be in the library studying and learning, marveling at the countless scrolls and frescoed walls that stared back at them, cradled by innumerable ancient pillars of inscribed marble shining under Agni's rays. He had almost completed sorting through and reading all the scrolls in the Southern Temple, but he worried about the other countless scrolls in the Northern, Western, and Eastern Temples.
He decided to worry about it later; he didn't like thinking about Pathik.
Aang landed and rode an airball down the halls until he reached the center of the library, waiting and undisturbed. He squatted and leaped toward the ceiling, long in distance. Blurring past dozens upon dozens of rows, shelves, and columns, he kept going until he reached his last stopping point, almost near the top; his head was almost touching the ceiling. He hovered with the use of an airball, which he fed every few minutes to sustain himself, and he lost himself in the scrolls, feeling a slim connection to those who copied down the scrolls.
He was reading something his people had written; he was touching something his people had touched; he was breathing the same air as fellow curious Airbenders.
Gazing forever, he went through scroll after scroll before one on the top shelf caught his eye. It was unlike other scrolls; it looked incandescent, divine, as if Indra herself created it. The symbol of Air engraved on the seal looked alive when he floated closer. Eager, he waved his arm, and the air carried the scroll to his awaiting hands.
Aang released his airball and floated back down to the ground from the massive height. Upon reaching the floor, he unfurled the scroll and sat down at one of the tables, gray eyes eagerly devouring the text. The rays of Agni streamed through the window, and he easily read the characters. The further he read, the more his eyes widened until they bulged from their sockets, and he knew disbelief was carved into his features.
The scroll was one of an ancient airbending form. It detailed how an Airbender could achieve true flight without the use of a glider or a bubble of air as Aang had used in The Avatar State multiple times, specifically against Ozai during Sozin's Comet.
After rereading it multiple times, making certain that his eyes weren't deceiving him, Aang looked up in awe. How could he have never heard of such an ability for an Airbender? He always thought it strange how airbending didn't advance beyond what he already knew, but now, he knew better. It made sense that true flight was achievable for an Airbender, for each of the bending arts had an advanced power that only few could ever achieve, nonetheless master: Waterbenders could bend the very blood in someone's body during the Full Moon, Earthbenders had the potential to bend metal, and Firebenders could generate lightning and, apparently, combustion-bending since Combustion Man had been hired by Zuko.
And now, Aang finally unearthed the advanced power for Airbenders.
Aang looked back down at the scroll, eyes roaming over the two sentences. Let go of the misconceptions that plague you, the text whispered. Enter the void, embody Air, and walk on the winds.'
He looked up in bemusement, flabbergasted by how little the scroll detailed about the actual ability. He didn't have any misconceptions that he was aware of, so why did he still need a glider or The Avatar State to fly?
The Avatar State! Directly before Azula shot him with lightning in Ba Sing Se, he had been weightless, glaring down at the Dai Li agents and Zuko, floating as if he were the Air Spirit herself. Aang looked at his tattooed hands, realizing that one or more of his predecessors had unlocked this ability, the ability of true flight for Airbenders. But he had no idea who it could be. There have been countless Avatars, since the beginning of Time. He was the World Spirit incarnate, so any of them could have unlocked true flight, but Aang had a feeling that very few actually did.
Aang summoned a familiar face.
"Hello, Aang."
He smiled at Yangchen, feeling closer to his people than he had in a long time with the knowledge of a lost airbending ability. "I found something I thought impossible."
"Do tell."
"Have you heard of true flight?"
Yangchen's brows furrowed. "Yes. Why?"
"What do you know about it?"
"Only legends, tales that old Airbenders wove when they could no longer hold a glider."
Aang frowned and held up the scroll for her to see, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "You've never seen this?"
Yangchen's eyes widened in surprise, her ethereal features a mass of shock. It was the first emotion that Aang had ever seen from her besides sorrow, pain, kindness, and distance. "Where did you find it?" she breathed out, disbelief echoing in her words. "It looks- "
"Alive, I know," he said, pointing up to the shelf from where he took the scroll. "It was on the top one. My head was grazing the ceiling by the end."
After scrutinizing the shelf for several moments, she shook her head, eyes finding his. "I never believed those tales. But it seems the legends are true."
"You think it's possible?" he asked, eagerness surging through him.
"It is strange," Yangchen corrected. "Why did the Elders of the Southern Temple put the scroll in the library where any Airbender can find it?"
"Knowledge is for everyone," Aang recited. "The libraries in all the Air Temples are designed so that the more complicated and advanced forms are on the higher shelves. The more you practice and train, the higher you can jump, reaching higher levels. Only a true Master of Air could have ever hoped to reach that high- "
Shockingly, Yangchen waved his words away, looking impatient; it seemed impossible, but it was true. "Yes, I know, but I have never seen an Airbender who achieved true flight; I have never heard of one who did, and I lived long. If there was always a scroll detailing that ability in the Temple's library, why have I never heard of a Master of Air who mastered such an ability, nonetheless you since you were raised in this Temple with the scroll seemingly here all this time?"
Aang started to speak but blinked in realization as he didn't have a factual answer; he began to understand what Yangchen implied. "The Elders didn't—or wouldn't—put it there," he commented at last.
"Yes, you have reached the same realization," Yangchen said, beginning to fade away. "This is something that you must contemplate without the distraction of myself nor Roku. You need more knowledgeable Avatars. Go deeper into The Avatar Cycle to find the answers you seek. Those who reigned thousands of years ago might know something."
Aang absorbed Yangchen and stared at the spot where she had just been before glancing at the scroll still held in his hand. Excitement surged inside him, something foreign—it was a beautiful reprieve from all the stress, burdens, and chaos! The thought of discovery had the little Airbender he was as a child leap in joy, and Aang felt almost giddy. He had to discover true flight immediately!
But there was no one to share it with at the Air Temples.
If he wanted peace as he pursued his discovery, he needed a place elsewhere, one where he could just be Aang rather than The Avatar.
Aang leaped out the wind into the courtyard below, something light in his chest for the first time in a long time. Appa greeted him with a familiar roar, and Momo wrapped himself around his neck, the fur tickling his skin.
Those two had been through it all with him, standing by his side, and they were all the same—the last of their respective kind.
He was always asked if he had found Airbenders during his travels, but no one ever asked if he found any sky bison or winged lemurs. But Aang never forgot to think such a thing; he searched frequently, just as he did for his people, flying through towns and villages, asking people who had never before seen a sky bison or winged lemur if they heard rumors of creatures similar in appearance.
But Sozin realized his depraved desire.
It was more heartbreaking for Appa and Momo, honestly, for Aang could have children, but it was different for his friends. There were no sky bison nor winged lemurs for Appa and Momo to mate with to produce children. When Appa and Momo died, the breed of sky bison and winged lemurs would be extinct—forever lost to legend.
Feeling his excitement dwindle so quickly into despair, Aang tried to put such ruminations of how all the Children of Air, human and animal, were to extinction away.
He needed to be elsewhere than the Air Temples.
"What about it, guys?" he asked, petting Appa's forehead and staring into those familiar, intelligent, loyal, warm eyes. "Maybe a vacation would be a good thing, wouldn't it? Does that sound like a good idea? I know I need one. What about you?"
Momo shrieked in agreement while Appa roared, and Aang smiled, having his answer.
He began to construct a suitable plan. They would need to travel to a place where no one would ever expect them to be, for Aang didn't want to think about being The Avatar nor face the expectations of such a thing; he wanted to focus on solving the mystery of the mysterious scroll. He wanted to drop off the face of the world for at least a few months and not be reminded of his grief, and none of the Air Temples would help him do just that. He couldn't go to Ba Sing Se nor Omashu, and he didn't like Zaofu and Chyung. Plus, Appa would be seen in the distance, and the cities would react, rumors of his arrival spreading like fire itself. The Water Tribes would only try to garner his favor, offering viable brides to become the Mother of Air, and even more importantly, he didn't want to see Sokka, Katara, or Suki.
The Fire Nation was all that remained, but while Aang desperately wanted to see Zuko, it ensured he remained The Avatar. He couldn't visit Zuko; he had to go elsewhere and ruminated for several moments on the perfect, suitable place for his purposes.
Ember Island.
It would work for his vacation if it worked during the twilight of the Great War when tensions were higher than ever. And who would suspect that The Avatar would hide in the very nation that had slaughtered his own?
"You guys remember Ember Island?" he asked, feeling his excitement increase and his preparations.
He had to plan ahead. There would need to be enough food—and, thus, money—to last the trip, and he had to think ahead to where he would stop for the nights to rest, for a sky bison wasn't conspicuous, and neither was Aang's appearance. Air Nomads were unforgettable when seen and could never stay in the shadows, but Aang needed the shadows of obscurity. He needed to blend in, and his tattoos disclosed his identity more than any words he could speak; the arrows on his hands were often the first thing people noticed when he tried to blend in before when wearing a hat.
Aang needed to grow his hair out and wear his headband, just as he had after the fall of Ba Sing Se, for which Azula was responsible, as King Kuei constantly reminded.
He didn't want to think of King Kuei; he didn't want to think of anyone, actually.
Only himself.
He noticed Appa stand to his feet, intelligent eyes alert, determined, and ready. Momo chirped at him and looped himself on of Appa's horns, and Aang raced back into the Temple, gathering the coins necessary for such a trip, a blur of color as he returned. With the scroll held tightly in his tattooed hand, Aang leaped onto his friend's back, commanding him to begin the journey to the Fire Nation, to Ember Island.
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Appa sat down in the courtyard of Zuko's home on Ember Island, and Aang hopped off, inhaling in relief as he gratefully stretched his legs. With a surprised eye, he appraised the place and noticed that it looked the same as it did eight years ago. It seemed Zuko didn't like being at his family's old vacation home, so Aang thought that his friend wouldn't mind if he stayed there for his vacation, especially since no one in the Fire Nation would dare to be caught on the Fire Lord's property. But he didn't understand how Zuko didn't like being at such a place, which was beautiful and perfectly placed to allow for the maximum breeze.
He quickly realized that Zuko was too busy to enjoy his home on Ember Island. Aang briefly considered flying to the Caldera and kidnapping Zuko to join him on his vacation, but he knew an uproar would be the response.
It wouldn't look good if The Avatar kidnapped the Fire Lord, and he doubted anyone would understand his reasoning.
But it was an entertaining image, and Aang smiled as he ran his hand through his black hair. It still felt weird, no matter how much time passed, but it did feel nice; it allowed him to exist unseen. One of the downsides to having his tattoos was that people always knew who he was and, inevitably, worshiped him. Although he always tolerated it, he didn't like it or think that he was deserving of it. He was more deserving if the people cursed his name, not hailing him as a god.
Looking at his reflection in an oval-shaped piece of ice that he created, he assessed his appearance and determined in relief that if he was wearing his headband, no one would ever recognize him as long as he kept the tattoos on his hands invisible. During the rare times he had to stop and gather food for himself, Momo, and Appa in towns on his trip, nobody looked at him twice. He had just been a regular human instead of the Master of the Four Elements. It felt nice being normal. No one knew who he was, and now that he finally arrived on Ember Island, he could finally take a much-needed break.
It was a promising vacation designed to pursue his thirst for discovery about Air.
Appa grumbled at him, and Aang laughed in amusement, watching his friend's eyelids already begin to droop. "Yes, go ahead, buddy. You're safe here, I promise." His best friend immediately plopped himself down and, almost instantly, was asleep.
Momo chattered at Aang drowsily and curled himself around Appa's horn, eyes fluttering shut. Aang smiled and truly hoped that his fellow last-of-their-kind found females of their kind. After making certain that they would be undisturbed, he turned around and entered the house.
The house was dark, eerie as the dust was thick in the air, and Aang felt the tissue around the scar on his back tighten in warning, foreboding whispering in his ears.
Ominous shadows were at the forefront of his mind, and his thoughts of discovery of Air were forgotten. There was someone inside; he could sense it. Rather than immediately finding the intruder—who would be bold enough to trespass on the Fire Lord's property besides The Avatar?—with his bending, Aang elected a diplomatic approach; he really didn't want to be The Avatar.
"Hello?" he called out, voice carrying intentionally. "I'm Kuzon, a friend of Fire Lord Zuko's. I know you're there. Is everything alright?"
There was no response, and he continued down the halls, eyes darting to and fro, looking for signs of change since he was last at the house. There were none, and as he paused at one of the pictures on the wall, he felt the air currents shift.
The intruder was behind him.
Aang almost groaned, knowing that he was in the presence of someone dangerous, for not just anyone could sneak up on him; still hoping for a diplomatic approach, he slowly raised his arms in innocence and turned around. He didn't feel much concern for his life, considering there were countless maneuvers he could wield to overpower and capture the intruder—his favorite was smashing the intruder through the wall by blowing through his mouth with airbending.
When he finally faced the intruder, it was a beautiful woman, most strikingly attractive; her features were noble and familiar. He loomed over her, eyes cataloging that her posture was tense. There was something familiar about that, and he dimly wondered if Zuko had any cousins besides Iroh's dead son, Lu Ten. Who else besides the Fire Royal Family would be in the Fire Lord's home?
Their eyes met—gray versus golden—and Air forgot about him, for his breathing stalled.
Lightning.
Aang squeezed his eyes shut, unable to help himself as the onslaught of images was too intense for him to handle. It was Ba Sing Se, and the caverns burned under blue flames, and the Dai Li and Zuko surrounded him. There was Katara doing her best but failing. There was Aang committing himself to The Avatar State, consumed by the power of all his lifetimes. But there was scorching and agonizing pain before darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, surprised that he was still alive, those familiar golden eyes were wary but curious. It wasn't a nightmare, and it wasn't how he wanted his vacation to go! He was in control, and he had planned it all out!
"Control is an illusion," Gyatso whispered in his memories, and Aang swallowed, wishing for the comfort of the illusion.
He knew those golden eyes, had envisioned them in his dreams for years, and hysteria threatened to overwhelm him just like her lightning once did.
"Azula," Aang whispered.
Her eyes widened in surprise before they narrowed dangerously; her body tensed even further, and he knew she was close to an eruption. But because she didn't immediately attack him—even killed him because she could have—he felt something unclench in his soul. Something was off, and while there were many similarities, there were just as many differences; she had changed.
But he didn't know what to do. Azula was obviously out of her cell, but she hadn't killed him when she had the chance, and Zuko would have sent a warhawk if Azula had somehow escaped.
What was going on?
Aang lowered his hands, and, as he knew they would, Azula's eyes darted down and latched onto the visible arrows tattoos on his hands. "Avatar," she breathed out, and the sudden fear that was on her face was surprising and unlike the Azula he remembered.
But he wasn't The Avatar she remembered, and she clearly realized it.
The fear remained on her face, the first time he had ever seen such an expression on her lovely features, which suddenly were aglow from the sapphire flames held in her hands. "He let me go," she said adamantly, eyes almost desperate. "Zuko let me go. There was no escape."
Aang waited for her to press an immediate attack after her declaration, but she never did, only waiting, growing more tense the longer he didn't answer. Why did his vacation—his much-needed vacation—have to be ruined? Clearly, the world was punishing him for trying to take said vacation.
"Why would Zuko let you go?" he questioned, voice polite, still prepared for an attack; he still held out for hope that it was all a big misunderstanding, and he could still have his vacation.
Azula snuffed out her flames and tilted her head up at him, seeming proud. "Due to necessity. My life was in danger."
"There goes my vacation," he muttered, almost wishing she would attack him so he could respond with bitterness.
"Vacation?" she asked, surprised. "You are not here to capture me?"
"No. This was supposed to be my vacation."
She didn't seem at all apologetic about ruining his vacation. "Zuko knows you are here?"
"Not exactly."
Azula almost seemed to smile and something like respect flashed over her face. "And you thought trespassing on the Fire Lord's property was a suitable vacation?"
Aang shrugged, still waiting for her attack. "No one was supposed to know."
"I know," she challenged, eyes becoming more alert. "What are you going to do?"
He sighed rather than groaned—no matter how much he wanted to groan—and sat in one of the chairs. "Listen. I'd like to hear the details of why you're in danger."
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That's all for this one. Please, leave a review so I can get feedback!
**So, Aang is all alone, save for Appa, Momo, and his past lives—pretty lonely. Okay, I really wanted to focus on the Air Nomad Genocide because the show, for all its strengths and great plotlines, really kind of brushes it aside and doesn't do a good job exploring the impact of something so monumental and depraved. I mean, it's genocide. And the only one remaining of that culture and civilization is a twelve-year-old boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I wanted to focus on Aang's situation, for it's unlike any situation in the world of Avatar, and there's so much depth and so many layers. Frankly, not enough was done for Aang. I love Zuko, and I love his story, but I think Aang's story had even more potential than Zuko's, and, ultimately, it falls kind of flat because the entire backbone of his story seems brushed aside and not explored (I know the reason for this is that it is a children's show, but the point still stands).
I know this chapter was mainly flashbacks, and the timeline is kind of confusing, a hallmark of relying on the memories of characters who jump around from event to event with no adequate progression. So, eight years ago before the events at the end of this chapter (and beginning when Aang opens his eyes from his meditation), the Great War ended. Aang then spent about a year in the Fire Nation helping Zuko consolidate his rule and then he flew around the Earth Kingdom doing Avatar things; then he went to the Northern Water tribe, spent time there, and then he went to the Southern Water Tribe and 'broke up' with Katara before leaving. Then he went to the Southern Air Temple and began the process of fixing all the Air Temples, which takes years. So, it's about three years after the Great War until Aang starts restoring the Air Temples. Interspersed through all of this is the Great Gathering, and none of the flashbacks to Aang at the Great Gathering are the same convention; each conversation takes place at a different place in time at a different Great Gathering. And then there's Aang's flashbacks of his talks with Gyatso. Hope it all makes sense.
I wanted to explore the politics of the Avatar world after the tragedy of the Great War, for, in my estimation, there could only be more tragedy until healing takes place. Look at real-life world history with World War I and World War II. World War II was a direct response to World War I—provoked by other causes, too, of course. So, I think it's possible for peace to be an impossibility after the Great War in the world of Avatar, and I hope I explored those motivations enough and provided understandable but maddening reasons for it.
The Katara-Kuei set-for-marriage thing and how and why it happened will be explained in later chapters. And Kuei's differing characterization will be different. Although, if you read the comics (which I don't recommend because the comics sucked, and I regret my time looking at them), Kuei is shown to be willing to go to war with Zuko over the situation of the Colonies when Zuko refuses to move his people from the Colonies (I changed that in this because of the political pressure that Zuko is facing on both sides, and he mistakenly thought it would send a message of goodwill to the other nations that he was willing to compromise. Basically, Zuko made a rookie mistake.). So, it doesn't seem too far a stretch to depict Kuei like how I'm depicted him.
And yes, Aang did kill people in Canon. I think that it's completely illogical to deny it. Just look at the Northern Water Tribe during the Fire Nation invasion. After Zhao, the utter buffoon, had killed the Moon Spirit, the Fire Nation's victory was assured until Aang goes into The Avatar State and wipes out their entire navy. How many men were on those ships? It was more than ten thousand, I'm certain. And then, what about General Fong's Earth Kingdom base in The Avatar State episode? After Katara was 'drowned' under the Earth, thus triggering The Avatar State, Aang decimated the entire base, including all of the buildings, and healing huts. I'd reckon that people were occupying those shelters during that fiasco. And what about The Northern Air Temple episode when Aang rides an avalanche over many Fire Nation soldiers? They weren't going to survive that, especially falling off the mountain.
Aang, personally, has a higher body count than anyone in the series not named Sozin.
I'm sure that you noticed, but I did use Guru Laghima's saying from Legend of Korra but changed some of the wording. I wanted Aang to discover true flight because I think that if anyone could truly 'unlock' such an ability, it would be him. Also, the true flight is the same thing Zaheer somehow unlocked in Legend of Korra, and the same thing that Aang did in the caverns of Ba Sing Se in the Season Two finale before Azula shot him with lightning, if you remember.
About Zaheer—I enjoyed him as a villain, but it was ridiculous how he seemed to master airbending almost immediately. The only person that we know of, in Canon, who can do something like that is Aang himself, like when he was learning waterbending before Katara kind of ruined it for him, and that is because he's the Avatar and a natural prodigy, a genius when it comes to bending. "I've mastered the elements a thousand times in one thousand lifetimes, and now, I must do it once again."
I liked Zaheer's action scenes, but that was about it. It was just nice to see an "evil" Airbender, basically. But that can't distract from his absurdity. His reasoning for his entire employment as a villain made no sense at all. Zaheer's rhetoric is something about freedom and only true freedom exists when darkness rules all and there is no government. So, he's basically an anarchist, but he doesn't even really have a good reason for being one, from what I've thought about. The reality is—he didn't get his way with the legal system during his younger years and decided to illogically declare that the entire system was corrupt because of his own bratty and petulant attitude. If you can offer some good insight into Zaheer's philosophy and actions that let me know that I'm completely wrong. I'd appreciate it because I truly enjoyed Zaheer except for his philosophy which seemed, at least to me, like that of a man-child's.
Tell me what you think, everybody!
Stay safe
ButtonPusher
