A/N: Well one particular part of one particular scene in this chapter gave me WAY more trouble than it should have. It took me DAYS of revision to get it right (one paragraph should never get that much attention!). Thankfully I have an awesome beta, flameohotwife, who helped me to finally get it right! You're the best, Hotwife!
…
"And how about you, Aang? How is your waterbending coming along?"
The sound of Firelord Ozai's voice pulled Aang from his thoughts—thoughts that just so happened to have been about waterbending… or more accurately about his waterbending teacher.
"Oh, it's uh, coming along great. I'm learning a lot."
Ozai smiled from his place between his children at the head of the table. "Counselor Zhao reports to me that you are making astounding progress, my son."
Aang ducked. "Oh, I don't know about that. I just… have a great teacher." Aang knew this wasn't the best way to reply to the Firelord. Ozai didn't like the natural modesty Aang was prone to, but Aang had never quite been able to shed the trait.
Ozai, took a sip of tea and glanced at Azula. "I've been too busy to observe your lessons. But I understand that Azula has. What do you think, Azula? Of Aang's waterbending?"
Aang looked at Azula a little nervously. Azula had never been one to pass up an opportunity to tear Aang down in front of her father. It didn't help that as far as he knew, Azula had only observed one of his lessons with Master Katara, and not a very exciting one at that: one that had been little more than a long and failed attempt by Aang to water-heal.
Azula looked back at Aang while she answered her father's question. "I've only observed once, and not long enough to make any concrete judgements. But I'm sure Aang's progress is astounding as usual." Aang was surprised by her response; his eyes thanked her for her broadly generous answer.
The corner of Ozai's mouth raised in approval.
For a time all that could be heard was the soft clink of chopsticks and the crackle of the fire in the giant hearth behind the Firelord's chair. Azula pushed away a dish of lotus root stuffed with seasoned rice that she clearly did not care for. Aang didn't mind. It moved the dish closer to him, and he liked it. It was one of the only vegetarian dishes on the table, plus it reminded him of something the monks used to make.
"And what of your studies with the Fire Sages?" Ozai's voice broke the silence.
Aang shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Oh they're… fine."
Ozai's eyes narrowed.
Aang tried to clarify. "I meditate with the Sages nearly every day. And it's… um…" How could he answer truthfully? Boring, mind-numbing, an absolute waste of his time? He opted for a lie instead. "I think it's really helping."
Ozai's immaculate brow rose in interest. "Really? Do you feel that you are getting closer to learning how to access the Avatar State?"
Aang had a feeling this question would come. He knew how much Firelord Ozai wanted him to master the Avatar State—how much he had always wanted him to master it—but Aang had lied about this issue in the past, and he knew it was unwise to overestimate his progress in this particular aspect of his training. "No. I'm sorry. I don't know that I am any closer to unlocking the power of the Avatar State."
Ozai's expression turned hard.
Azula glanced at her father, and then discretely at Aang. "Perhaps the Sages aren't as sage as they claim to be," she suggested derisively.
Ozai took a long inhale before releasing it slowly. The fire in the fireplace rose and fell with his breath.
The Firelord then motioned once in the air with his hand, and three servants quickly approached the table, removing the royal family's empty rice bowls. Three more servants immediately placed fresh bowls full of green-bean soup before them. Aang looked at his bowl. Among the Air Nomads, green beans had been a savory dish—here in the Fire Nation it was a dessert. At first it had been jarring for him to eat green beans in sweet soup, but now he could appreciate both dishes.
They ate their dessert in silence. When the dessert bowls were cleared away, and tea was brought to the table, Ozai finally spoke again. "I have need for you both to travel to the Earth Kingdom."
Aang and Azula both looked up in surprise. "What?!"
A thrill zinged inside of Aang at the prospect of leaving the Fire Nation, of traveling the world again! Azula, on the other hand, looked clearly more shocked than excited.
Unflustered, Ozai picked up the elaborate tea pot and began pouring tea. "Aang, what do you know about… Zuko, Azula's brother?"
Aang noted that Ozai did not claim Zuko as "his son." Azula's brow furrowed, her look apprehensive.
Aang cleared his throat before carefully choosing his words. "I… know that he betrayed you. That he… was banished."
Ozai nodded. "Indeed. Zuko is a traitor to the Fire Nation and a dishonor to our family."
This was the first time Aang had ever heard Ozai voluntarily speak about Zuko; the first time Aang had ever heard him say his son's name aloud. It made Aang feel uneasy.
"I showed mercy to Zuko by banishing him. His crimes could have earned him a one way trip to the executioners. But I exercised restraint. Mercy. But in return for my generosity he has continued to dishonor me."
Aang noticed that Azula's jaw clenched.
"Zuko and my traitorous older brother are seeking to overthrow me. They have raised an army of rabble, of riff-raff and troublemakers from among the other nations that are opposed to order, justice, and peace."
"I… have never heard anything about this, Father." Aang replied, trying to stay neutral. Trying to understand what he was hearing.
"I want you to go to the Earth Kingdom and find Zuko and his 'rebellion,'" Ozai said, "and I want you to end them."
For a moment Aang felt like he couldn't breathe; like the air had been knocked out of him. Then a wide abyss slowly opened up inside of him, a pit of never ending dread. Never before had Ozai asked him to… kill.
"Surely there must be… another way. Perhaps we could talk to him? After all, Zuko is your son—"
Ozai slammed his teacup on the table, the fire in the hearth roaring into the chimney. "Zuko is no longer my son!" he spat.
Azula sipped her tea calmly.
Aang looked back towards Ozai, dread taking root and growing inside of him. The Firelord spoke again, this time with more composure in his voice. "Zuko is seeking to destroy me, my son. He wishes to usurp the throne from me, from your sister. He seeks to stir up war and discontent and violence. He is dangerous. The best way—the way that will preserve the most lives—will be for you to find him and use the power of the Avatar, the Great Spirit of Peace and Order, to stop him."
Aang looked to Azula for help, for some guidance as to what he should do. But she simply sat across from him, back straight in her chair, sipping her tea. She didn't look Aang in the eye.
"This is why I need you to complete your training as soon as possible, my son. Lives are at stake. We need you, Aang."
The words reverberated in his brain, echoing through his skull in the voice of Gyatso. Guilt caught in Aang's throat. His hand began to rub his forearm under the table, turning the skin there red from the friction. It hurt, but the hurt reminded him where he was. He was here. Not back in those dark memories, drowning in the grief and guilt his thoughts sometimes plunged him into.
"And whether you are ready or not, you and Azula will travel together to the Earth Kingdom at the end of the season."
A look passed between Ozai and Azula; a heavy something communicated without words.
Despite the trepidation Aang felt, he unconsciously lifted his chin and pulled his shoulders back. Aang had spent his life mastering physical forms to bend the elements. He could shift from Earth to Fire to Air seamlessly. But he had spent the last years of his life mastering the art of body language, of deception, as well. The haughty lift in his chin was more a knee-jerk attempt at self-preservation than of real pride, but it was a way to buy himself time while he digested this new disconcerting development.
Aang bowed his head obediently. "I'll… do my best, Father."
"Yes," Ozai said confidently. "I'd expect nothing less."
….
Katara laid back on the palace roof. Even though it was long after sunset now, the red tiles were still warm from being baked all day in the hot Fire Nation sun. She closed her eyes and took in a large breath of the clean night air. She let the light of the full moon soak into her skin, the moon-rays filling her with a zinging energy.
Katara peeked one eye open when she heard a familiar gust of wind. Aang had popped up over the lip of the rooftop in his usual "upward fall." He was carrying another armload of things (this was his fourth load).
"Well I think that's everything!" he said, kneeling down next to her to carefully set down a white cloth tied at the corners over something bulky. "Unless you want anything else?" he asked solicitously.
Katara looked at the abundance of the things Aang had brought up on the roof and laughed. "Nope, I can't think of a single thing that I could possibly need that you haven't brought already! I mean, how many throw pillows do you really think we need, Aang?"
Aang looked at the small mountain of items he'd brought and rubbed the back of his neck shyly. "I just wanted you to be comfortable."
She laughed again and sat up, pulling a pillow towards her and propping it up behind her back. "I am quite comfortable, thank you."
"It's not everyday I get to sit under the full moon with someone I care about!" Aang said. "I just wanted tonight to be special… but then again, I guess anytime I get to be with you is special." The bashful smile Aang sent her way made Katara's breath catch. He was often saying things like this-things that might sound corny coming from anyone else, but somehow felt nothing but sincere coming from Aang.
"Well it all looks lovely," she replied with a soft smile.
Aang smiled widely and pulled one of the larger pillows towards him and in front of where Katara sat. He then propped a wooden tea tray on the roof tiles and the pillow, making a sort of level table that accommodated for the slant of the rooftop. Aang then began untying the corners of the cloth bundle he'd just brought onto the roof.
"Well, I hope you're hungry, because tonight I brought something special!" He brought out a four-tiered bamboo steamer basket and set it on the make-shift table. "I've got some xiao long bao, a couple of banana-leaf zhongzi, a basket of shu mai, and some steamed walnut cake." Katara wasn't familiar with most of these foods, but the excitement in Aang's eyes filled her with anticipation. "I also have dipping sauces, of course," he said as he pulled the items out of the cloth and set them on the table one by one, "some pickled veggies, and a bottle of apple-vinegar to share!" Aang held up a dark bottle last and smiled.
Katara teased, "All of this for me?"
The soft, affectionate look Aang gave her as a silent reply made her stomach flip a somersault.
"Well it smells delicious," she said avoiding his eye simply because his stunning dark eyes were making her blush. Katara then bashfully took Aang's hand and pulled him up to sit next to her, the tea-tray table set before them.
The two of them sat side-by-side, laughing and flirting while they ate the delicacies Aang had brought. The moon shone brightly above them, like a large silver chandelier commissioned especially for this occasion.
"Why there appears to be only one walnut cake left," Katara teased, snapping her chopsticks above it like a small shark about to capture its prey.
"You can have it," Aang smiled warmly.
Of course Aang would give it to her. Aang was always like that, ever giving, ever kind. Katara realized that in many ways it was these small gestures that made her feel so cherished.
"No, we can share it," Katara replied, picking up the cake with her chopsticks and biting off half of it. She then held the other half out to him. He looked at it a moment before opening his mouth and talking the cake in his teeth from her chopsticks. She watched the way his lips closed around it… how his jaw flexed when he chewed…
Katara forced her eyes to look away, a blush rising hotly in her cheeks.
When the food was all eaten, Aang folded up the dishes back in the cloth and pushed the tea tray away. He then pulled out the bottle of apple-vinegar.
"Shoot!" he exclaimed, "I knew I forgot something! No corkscrew for the bottle! Wait a sec, I'll be right back."
"Give it here," Katara said extending her hand for the bottle. Aang put it in her hand.
Holding the dark bottle in one hand, Katara coaxed the liquid inside upward, her hand moving above the bottle like it was gripping and releasing an invisible ball. The pressure at the top began to shake the bottle, until pop! the cork and half the liquid came shooting out! But Katara stopped the liquid mid-splatter, sending it instead back inside the bottle.
Aang reached out and caught the cork on its descent, his eyes bright with the trick of it. "Wow! Now that is a good use for waterbending! No wonder you're a Master!"
Katara laughed and replied jokingly, "Because I can get a cork out of a bottle?"
Aang looked at her with absolute seriousness. "Yes. A move like that takes so much precision, such a high level of fine motor control! That's harder than commanding a big wave for sure."
Katara considered his words and decided that she agreed with him.
"The monks always taught us to use airbending for everyday tasks, celebrating if one of us kids came up with a new way to work with our element."
Katara noted how easily Aang spoke of the other airbenders now. It hadn't always been so. Back in the beginning, Aang had seemed to grow uncomfortable whenever his life from before was brought up—not because he seemed ashamed of his people—but because somehow he felt the topic was taboo. Katara loved how freely Aang spoke of his people with her now.
Aang continued, a natural affection for his culture in his voice as he spoke. "None of our airbending forms were specifically designed for fighting; they were designed to help us befriend the Air, to partner with it in different ways." A smug smile played at Aang's lips. "If our airbending forms also turned out to be helpful in a fight, well that was just kind of a bonus…".
Katara wondered what it would have been like back a hundred years ago, with all the monks and nuns and air-children roaming the world. The airbenders sounded like delightful people. Thinking of their teaching philosophy added yet another tally to the long list of reasons she was sorry the airbenders were now gone.
For not the first time Katara considered whether she should say something to Aang, about how the airbenders really died. The topic had not come up between them since that first night in Aang's room when he had told her that he believed the airbenders had died in a plague. Katara wanted him to know the truth. He deserved to know the truth!
But the information was dangerous… Not to mention how it could jeopardize her own reason for being here…
Aside from that, Katara also knew that she was selfish. She didn't want to ruin the blissful moments of happiness she and Aang snatched together, stolen from an otherwise miserable situation. She didn't want Aang's smile to disappear… to burden him with even more pain…
Still, she knew deep down that it wasn't right to try to protect him. But before she could decide how to broach the subject, Aang spoke again, and Katara willingly let herself be distracted.
"I love all of the elements. But I've always preferred bending to fighting."
"Don't we use bending to fight?" Katara asked.
Aang laughed once. "Sure. But fighting is just one use for bending. A narrow one too, in my opinion. Think of all the other ways we can bend! Construction, transportation, cooking, art! Airball for crying out loud! Those are all better uses for bending if you ask me." Aang laughed, a touch of scorn in his voice.
Katara considered Aang. The Avatar. The Fire Nation's greatest Weapon.
The fact that he was such a gentle soul made his current situation truly tragic.
The thought was deeply depressing. And Katara didn't feel like ruining this night with Aang. So she opted for a diversion.
Katara held up the bottle in her hands. "So do you have glasses in your mountain of supplies?" she asked teasingly.
"Nope!" Aang said snatching the bottle from her and downing a long gulp. "We're going to drink right out of the bottle like heathens!"
Katara laughed before taking the bottle Aang offered back to her. She drank a long swig. The sourness of the vinegar made her tongue tingle, her face puckering exaggeratedly.
Aang laughed. "It's good, I promise. You just need to get past that first kick."
Katara swallowed the liquid in her mouth, noting that the sweetness of the apple did make it go down smoother.
Aang smiled and reached for the bottle, taking another drink. For some reason the action reminded her of her family. Not her most recent family: Zuko and Uncle, since she'd never seen either of them drink straight from a bottle (refugees as they were, some proper aspects of their lives as royalty seemed to have stuck with them). But it reminded her of her real family. In the South Pole. In the springtime, when warm walrus-mare milk could be acquired from the wild herds, her family had taken turns drinking from the carved bone ladle; each drinking and then refilling from the bucket before passing it on to the next person.
Katara thought of her family—her mother, her father, her brother, even Gran Gran. She'd lost them all. Most often when something reminded her of them, she would feel depressed, or even angry. But curiously, not right now. Sharing the apple-vinegar with Aang just brought a feeling of home; home without the pain.
Aang stretched his long body out on the roof, pushing the pillows he'd bothered to bring up here aside in favor of just laying on the red tiles, one arm up under his head. Katara did the same, laying next to him, noting that the tiles were a little cooler than they'd been an hour ago. "So you don't want the pillows you hauled up here after all?" she asked teasingly.
Aang turned his head to look at her and smiled. "Naw. They were for you really. I don't need much to be comfortable. Airbenders don't really get cold, because we can control the air around our bodies, so I don't need any blankets. And when we traveled as a kid, I usually slept right on the ground, or maybe on Appa. No need for a bedroll or anything. I prefer not having all of that stuff." Aang gestured a vague hand towards the pillows.
They turned their attention toward the sky, the giant silver moon throned as queen in the velvety star-speckled blackness of it. Again Katara felt the vibrating energy she seemed to receive from the moon. She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, relaxing more fully.
The action reminded her of something Uncle Iroh had taught her long ago. It had been rare for their little band of wandering refugees to enjoy any semblance of security in those early days of traveling with Zuko and Iroh. It had been dangerous to travel in such a small group and with so few supplies, not to mention that for a long time Katara hadn't even completely trusted her Fire Nation traveling companions. Katara had begun to carry the worry and stress of being constantly on high alert in her body. It had started to take a toll on her ability to relax and to sleep.
But she'd noticed that Uncle Iroh never seemed to have any trouble sleeping, even in insecure circumstances. She'd asked him about it one day, and he had told her that as a seasoned war veteran, he had spend years in unsafe territory. Initially he'd been unable to let his guard down. But at some point he had had to learn to trust his safety to those around him, and give himself permission to let his guard down. He'd accepted that something might happen to him while he slept, but he'd learned to trust his companions to do their best to keep him safe, just as he would do for them when it was their turn to sleep. "I recommend that you trust me, Katara. Trust that I will do all in my power to keep you safe," Uncle had said. He'd then taught her some relaxation techniques, including the deep breathing she had just done. He'd helped her learn how to put her guard down in all the small moments she could. She knew she was still prone to worry, but she had gotten better at being able to put it aside.
Katara breathed deeply again and felt her body relax even more as she laid next to Aang. The fact that she was on a towering rooftop, surrounded by enemies, was superfluous to this moment. She trusted Aang. And she could put the worry about other things aside for the moment.
She noticed that Aang seemed at ease as well and mentioned it.
"Oh I'm very good at living in the present," Aang shamelessly bragged. "And in the present I am here, under the open sky, with you." Aang reached out and took her hand in his; Katara's body thrilled at the contact, loving the way he'd become unafraid to reach out to her. "I can't imagine a better moment to live in."
Katara squeezed his hand, and he smiled at her. But his eyes quickly became sober as he turned them back towards the sky. His voice was laced with regret when he spoke, "But sometimes I live in the present to avoid thinking about the future. Or the past. It's not always a good thing."
Katara's mind was brought back to her own regrets. Which of course brought her thoughts to the rebellion. To Zuko. And Iroh. She missed them, her 'found family.'
It had been some incredible luck to have even seen Zuko's small life-boat out in the open ocean all those years ago. After the massacre of her town, Katara had salvaged her tribe's best intact canoe and left the South Pole. She'd already been at sea for several days by the time she spotted Zuko's boat. If the weather hadn't been so serene that day their small boats would have certainly missed each other entirely.
Zuko had called to her then, waving his hands desperately. Katara had been wary, not sure what type of sailor was calling to her. But his pleas for help had stirred her, and she'd ultimately turned her canoe and waterbent her way towards him.
Prior to leaving the South Pole Katara hadn't known how to propel a canoe forward with waterbending. But after hours of paddling and getting nowhere in the deep ocean, necessity had taught her, through trial and error, that there was a better way (funny how facing death at sea can bring out some wonderful waterbending innovation).
When Katara had gotten closer to Zuko's life boat, however, she'd realized that the sailor who called to her was dressed in a Fire Nation soldier's uniform. She'd stopped abruptly and turned to flee, to leave Zuko to fend for himself. And Katara would have left him there, if it hadn't been for the desperation in the young man's voice. "Please! It's my Uncle! He's… not responding. Please! I need your help! I'll do anything!"
Katara had spared him a second look, noticing that the soldier was still a boy, not much older than herself. Compassion had sent her back to help him.
And Katara was endlessly grateful it had.
Katara had tied her canoe next to theirs and apprehensively climbed aboard their larger (although not by a lot) boat. Uncle Iroh had lain unconscious on the boat's floor. Apparently he'd been drugged before being shoved off in the lifeboat with Zuko. By the time Katara had found them, Iroh showed signs of extreme dehydration.
Katara had rushed back to the cooler box in her canoe. She'd filled the box with fresh snow (that she'd kept frozen through her rudimentary waterbending skills) and pulled a large handful out of it. She had then begun forcing small bits of snow into Uncle's mouth, letting it melt down his throat. Iroh's lips had been blue from the cold by the time he'd woken after several hours of she and Zuko taking turns forcing snow into his mouth, but at least the snow's water was fresh, the ocean itself being undrinkable.
Katara recalled how she had also needed to force Zuko to drink the snow as well, but his mind had been so distraught over his Uncle, that it wasn't until Iroh had woken that Katara had really been able to make Zuko drink.
"Do you know anything about Zuko, the Firelord's banished son?"
Aang's words startled Katara back into the present. His question was so random and so on topic with her own thoughts that for an irrational moment she wondered if Aang had been eavesdropping on her memories.
Katara's guard suddenly shot up. "Why… do you ask?" she asked warily.
Aang shrugged one shoulder. "He was mentioned at dinner tonight," Aang answered vaguely. But Katara noticed how he didn't look at her, how he rubbed his forearm distractedly. "I just wondered if you knew anything about him."
Katara had no idea how to answer, her mind recalling countless memories of Zuko over the last seven years. Finally she settled on something very vague. "Yeah, I've heard of him."
Neither of them said anything more for a time, both lost in their own churning thoughts.
"I met him once, you know," Aang's voice broke the silence. "He's the one who broke me out of the iceberg when I was twelve." Yes, Katara knew that already. "I don't remember a lot about him, just that Zuko did a lot of yelling and stomping. But his uncle was nice. He played pai sho with me." Katara felt a pang imagining sweet old Uncle baiting an unsuspecting Aang with a game as they sailed off to lock the boy in prison. She had to swallow a lump that rose in her throat.
Aang jerked to sitting and rested his forearms on his knees. He picked up the cork he'd set nearby and started pulling little bits of it off with his fingers distractedly. Katara sat up as well, glancing at him, trying to gauge what he was thinking. He was clearly bothered.
"Why do you ask, Aang? About Zuko…?"
"No reason." His reply was too fast. "He was mentioned. And I wondered." Aang broke the cork in half and tossed the two halves away.
Again Katara wondered if she should tell Aang. About the Rebellion. The war. About what happened to the Airbenders. But she knew that to do so would likely cost her her life… and even more deterring was the fear that it might cost Aang his life as well. She'd always rationalized that she had time; she could tell him later if she decided to. Katara opened her mouth, wanting to speak. But not knowing what to say. Or how to possibly say it.
But Aang was suddenly on his feet before she could say anything anyway. Katara stood as well.
Aang began fidgeting, his hand rubbing harder on his forearm. Katara walked up close to him and took his arm, stopping the movement. His eyes locked with hers. "What's wrong, Aang?"
"Do you know that I spent time in prison?" Aang asked seemingly out of the blue; his agitation making his attention sporadic. "I was there for four months. I looked it up once, just to know how long I'd been there. Because it had felt like eternity." Aang's voice broke on the last word and he looked up toward the sky, blinking rapidly. Katara could hear the shame and fear in his voice.
Katara's eyes darted over Aang's face. He winced, as thought something had hurt him. He jerked his arm out of her hand and began rubbing his wrist again. Suddenly Katara could see it. The chains were gone. But it was as though Aang still felt them there. Like he was trying to get them off.
"Do you know why?" he asked her, the question sounding like an accusation. The wind on the roof was picking up a bit; Katara's skirt began to flap around her ankles. Was a storm blowing in? No, Katara realized. It was Aang.
"Why what, Aang?"
"Why they put me in prison?!"
She did. It was because he's the Avatar and the Fire Nation saw him as a threat to their tyranny. But it was clear that he thought it was because of the destruction he caused in the bay while in the Avatar State. Katara's chin began to tremble, imagining Aang as a scared little boy locked away in a cell. A boy who didn't know what was going on and had accidentally lost control of an ageless Spirit of Power that lived inside of him.
"Aang," Katara took his hand, trying to get his attention. To calm him down. She could see that he was beginning to hyperventilate. The wind began to whistle as it sped over the peaked roof. Katara remembered how high up they were, and a sudden fear gripped her. She tried to brace her feet more firmly on the smooth roof tiles.
"It's because I killed people, Katara!" Aang's voice croaked out. "And now they want me to…" A blinding white light flashed so brightly that it left Katara seeing spot-glimmers. She blinked, not knowing what had happened.
When she could see again her hand was empty. Aang had walked several paces away, his back towards her. The wind had stopped—the air now unnaturally still. Katara swallowed, her heart pounding.
"Aang?" Her voice was hardly audible. She stumbled towards him and touched his back. "Aang? Are you okay?"
"I'm sorry, Katara."
"Don't be."
"I don't mean to burden you with my… crimes. I just want you to know. So you know what I really am. It's okay if you don't want to see me anymore. I'd understand."
Suddenly Katara's temper flared! What did he have to be sorry for?! Aang had never meant to hurt anyone! He'd been a little boy!
"Aang, look at me." He didn't turn. "Look at me!" she demanded again, pulling on his shoulder to turn him around to face her. Still he looked down and to the side, avoiding her eyes.
"You listen here, Aang!" Katara commanded, righteous anger in her voice. She put one hand on his cheek to make him look her in the eyes. "I do know what you are! You are a beautiful person, inside and out." A sob caught in her voice. Instead of trying to talk more, Katara just pulled Aang into her, hugging him tightly. He buried his face in Katara's neck and gripped her back tightly.
"None of this is your fault, Aang," Katara soothed, stroking the back of his neck. Her next words came out in a whisper. "I know who you are. And I love you…"
Aang pulled back sharply at her words, a raw vulnerable hope plain on his face. His eyes glimmered intensely, the light of the full moon reflecting round orbs of light in their grey depths; his gaze an unconditional surrender as he searched her face. Searched for what? A lie?
The Truth?
And then he was kissing her, full and on the mouth! Katara's eyes opened wide for a brief elated heartbeat-opened in surprise, not objection. But in the space between one breath and the next—between indecision and certainty—she pulled him resolutely towards her, kissing him fully in return! He whimpered softly between their enclosed mouths, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. Katara matched his hunger-her hands gripping his back, his shoulders, his hair. Aang's touch trailed fire on her body, his mouth stealing her breath even while it gave her new life.
She wanted this! She did. She hadn't perhaps realized it until this exact moment, but she had needed Aang to kiss her like this for so long now.
This was Truth. The kind of Truth that you don't realize until it's standing beside you, inside of you and banging on your chest, screaming to be heard! Katara's mind and heart and body were all present, all making this decision as one. Katara's whole self kissed Aang back.
She didn't know how she had let it happen. But in this moment Katara knew that she'd let herself fall, irrevocably, in love with the Avatar…
…..
Aang breathed deeply, then lifted his arms and began the airbending form.
He'd learned this one when he was around nine or ten, although most airbenders were not introduced to it until they were in their mid to late teens. Aang's ability to pick things up quickly had sometimes also caused him to get bored easily, and when he'd gotten bored, he'd been more inclined to get into mischief. So Gyatso had not held back in teaching Aang the more advanced forms, to challenge him (if for no other reason than to keep Aang out of more trouble).
Having learned this form at such an early age, practicing through it now was almost as natural as walking. Aang closed his eyes, and let his body turn him, this way, then that—knees bent, feet light, ever ready to rotate if resistance presented itself. Aang let his mind turn as easily as his body, acknowledging his thoughts and letting them blow this way and that as they willed.
And of course, right now his thoughts swirled with Katara.
Last night Aang had kissed Katara in a euphoric, disoriented stupor. Over and over, without hurry but certainly not without urgency. The kisses were long and deep and somehow able to make time disappear.
Her words—I love you—had made Aang's heart gasp, as though he had been submerged and drowning all these years, and those words, her words, had finally brought him up for a desperate gulp of life-giving air. To be loved—when he'd already loved her so fervently—was as much relief as it was elation. And he'd given himself over to it fully.
I love you too, he'd said to her with every kiss. At least he'd thought he'd said it out loud, he honestly wasn't sure. But out-loud or not the words had been infused in his every worshipful touch.
Aang wondered if they would have ever stopped kissing if it weren't for how, in his elation, he'd begun to raise them off the tiles of the roof in a joyful, swirling wind. Katara had squealed into his mouth and jerked to get her toes back on the ground. Of course they hadn't risen more than an inch or two off the rooftop, but the action had woken them both from their blissful daze and brought them back to where they were.
Aang's eyes opened from the glorious memory at the sound of the heavy wooden doors of the arena being hauled open. Aang turned towards the doors and waited eagerly for Katara to come through them.
It had only been a couple of hours since Aang had left her to attend his sunrise meditation with the Fire Sages, but the time apart had felt long. Funny, how that could be. But if Aang had his way, he would spend every waking (and otherwise!) moment of his life with Katara!
Aang fingered the note in his pocket as he trotted towards Katara. With all the happenings of last night, Aang had forgotten to give her Sokka's note. But no worries, he could give it to her now.
But when Katara was finally near, he took his hand out of his pocket, her beautiful blue eyes causing him to forget pretty much everything.
"Hey," he said, feeling an unexpected bashful, fluttering in his stomach.
"Hey," she said quietly back, a playful tease in her eyes.
Aang stepped towards her, close, not hiding the warmth in his eyes. "I missed you," he said softly.
"Missed me?" Katara laughed, "We've only been apart a few hours…"
"I know."
Katara blushed. Then whispered back, "I missed you, too…"
Aang reached out his hand, unable to not touch her. He reached up, just to tuck a stray stand of hair behind her ear…
When a sudden flare of blue flame cut between them, burning his hand and bursting into life at their feet! The surge of heat sent the pair of them jumping away from one another. Aang sucked in a hiss of pain and shook his hand—the one that had just touched Katara's hair—as a searing red burn emerged on the back of it.
Aang and Katara looked up, and there above them on the second story balcony stood Princess Azula, her golden eyes raining rage down upon them.
….