A/N: I will be traveling next week, so I won't be adding another chapter. I apologize. But I hope you will accept this doozy of a chapter as a parting offering until two weeks from now…

As always, a big thank you to my awesome beta, FlameoHotwife! She's amazing!

….

A moment later, and the blue fire was gone.

Aang still stood above her in the training arena, but he'd let both the fire in his hands and eyes go out. He looked away from her as though he was ashamed. When his eyes returned her way they were softer. He extended his hand to help her up.

"I'm sorry, Azula. Are you okay?"

The care in his eyes was everything Azula wanted and also absolutely not enough. She wanted to slap his hand away. Or to take hold of it and never let go.

Not trusting herself to know which she would do, she ignored his offer and rolled to her feet on her own. "I'm fine. Of course, I'm fine." Her voice sounded strained, even to herself.

"I need to…" Azula's mind felt hazy, disorganized, "go."

She knew what she needed to do.

In a rush she walked towards the door, shoulders erect and proud; like a princess, of course. But it took great effort not to run. To get away or to get where she was going—she wasn't sure which drive was stronger.

"Azula?" She heard Aang's voice call after her, but she ignored him. She didn't know what she would say. For once her silver tongue felt like lead.

As she left the arena, at the last moment, Azula spared a last glance over her shoulder. She could see Aang crouching next to the waterbender, helping her up. Azula should have felt jealousy, anger, indignation. But she felt little. The waterbender didn't matter. She would be obsolete soon; no longer her concern.

Azula rushed through the doors and into the long, regal hallways of the palace. Although she had never given in to drunkenness herself, her gait felt slanted as though she had indulged. Walking took far more concentration than it should, like so many of the idiots she'd beheld who allowed themselves to drink past their capacities, becoming loose tongued and bumbling. She felt the need to focus on each step, lest she allow the tilting hallway to get the better of her.

Azula closed her eyes tightly, willing the ground to stop tipping. But behind her eyelids all she could see was Aang, standing above her, wielding her blue fire like it belonged to him. Like he was worthy to hold it!

She stumbled once and looked angry at the lush carpets, sure that something had tripped her. But the floor was pristine; nothing was there. "Cursed floor," she thought. A hall guard looked at her as though she had spoken. It made Azula angry. What right did he have to read her mind!

She hurried faster past the endlessly tall tapestries of her forefathers, fire blazing in their hands and in their long-dead eyes. What she wanted was a disgrace to them. To the long line of pure Agni blood in her veins.

She didn't hesitate when she arrived outside the curtain leading to her father's throne room. A sentry made as though he would stop her as she reached for the curtain, but one cold look from her and the guard froze, allowing her entry. Azula smiled knowing that no one else would be allowed such free access to the Firelord. No one else was as trusted.

Father looked up at her in surprise, the trio of fire sages in the room halting what they were saying. Father's brow furrowed in annoyance, but he held his hand up to keep the sage's silence, turning his attention to his daughter. "Princess Azula."

Azula saw Father's eyes dart over her body, and she realized for the first time that she was still in her training clothes. She looked down to see that not only was she inappropriately informal to address the Firelord in his throne room, but she was also covered in wet dirt from the fight. Azula was never dirty. Never a hair out of place. Realization of her unkept appearance filled her with shame.

Azula dropped to the ground in kowtow. "Father."

Although Azula couldn't see it from her position with her forehead to the ground, she heard the Sages begin to leave, their long robes shuffling. Father must have dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Azula smiled to herself, knowing that no one was more important in Father's eyes than her.

"Rise, Daughter," Ozai's voice echoed from behind the wall of flames.

Azula stood. Father didn't smile. "You have an urgent matter to discuss with me, Azula?"

Azula knew she would have to sell her request. She regretted not taking more time to prepare, to dress appropriately, to formulate her arguments. But she was here now, and she knew that only full confidence would do when proposing something like this to the Firelord.

"Yes, Father."

"Is it a matter… sensitive in nature?"

"It is, Father."

Ozai raised a hand without another word, dismissing the guards who flanked the room. Azula knew they would reposition again outside the doors, still guarding their Firelord, but no longer in earshot to hear what she had to say. Again, Azula swelled with pride knowing that Father trusted her enough to leave himself unprotected with her. He knew he could always rely on her. That she would never betray him.

"You may speak your mind, Daughter."

For a moment, Azula's mouth was empty, unsure how to begin her request. But she quickly regained her innate poise which filled her words with confidence. "I have a proposition to make: one that I feel will strengthen the Fire Nation, ensure our victory over our enemies, and bolster the power of our royal family."

Ozai's eyebrow raised intrigued, "Go on."

"I have thought long on your intent to send the Avatar with me to the Earthlands at the end of the season." Azula's voice carried strong throughout the large room. "And I support your decision for the brilliant plan that it is. However, I feel that an additional hold upon the Avatar would be… beneficial, as we introduce him to the workings of the empire and the conflict inherent in the Earthlands at this time."

Azula paused, allowing her words time to adequately resonate. Father nodded, a small smile on his lips. "And what is your proposal?"

For the first time since starting her speech, Azula's resolve faltered. She knew once she spoke the words, she could not take them back. And far more than tactical advantage was at stake for her, depending on Father's verdict. If he did not approve of her request, she knew she would lose more than just face.

But when she spoke her words were bold, showing no sign of her inner trepidation.

"I propose that the Avatar and I be wed. To create a more powerful union and further bind him to our family and our nation."

The words were out. And they hung in the silence, suspended and naked. Azula could not take them back.

Ozai sat back in his throne, his face shrouding with the loss of light from the wall of fire. He brought one hand to his goatee in thought.

"You have thought through all the implications of this request?" Ozai finally asked. "A royal marriage is binding, unbreakable."

"I am aware," Azula answered, her mind unwittingly calling up images of Mother: a woman banished, disgraced, but technically still married to her father.

Her father hummed in thought. Azula knew it was far from an approval, but the simple fact that Ozai had not rejected the prospect flatly filled her with yearning.

"The Avatar is powerful," Ozai said. Azula noted the way they both referred to Aang by his title, distancing themselves from any emotional biases his name might bring to the discussion of tactics. "The two of you would make a couple of unparalleled might. I admit that I have considered the match myself." At this Azula's heart leapt involuntarily, hope battering away unhelpfully inside her chest. If Father had considered a betrothal between her and Aang already, then it must be viable!

"And he is still highly influenceable," Ozai continued. "As you know, Azula, chains can be a challenge—an easy one to get out of, if one is resourceful. For someone like the Avatar, it is important to keep him shackled in mindsets, which are much harder to break than simple chains." She had heard Father speak this way before—this had been one of his original arguments for bringing Aang to the palace in the first place—and she agreed with his wisdom. But she didn't quite follow why Father was speaking about chains in a discussion of matrimony.

Or did she? Didn't she propose the prospect of marriage to Aang with this very purpose in mind? To bind him to her wholly, unbreakably? So that he would grow to feel for her what she already felt for him?

"How could I be assured that marital relations," the words were thick with implication, "would not cloud your judgement if drastic measures became… unavoidable?" Azula thought of their discussion last night; of what Ozai expected her to do with her Cold Fire if the Avatar became too problematic.

Azula assuaged his concerns. "My loyalty will always be to our nation, Father, and to you first and foremost. You know that nothing could obscure my judgement in this regard."

Ozai hummed, considering her answer.

No mention was made by either her or the Firelord of sentiment, of affection. Azula never anticipated there would be. Sentiment had no place in discussions of marriage among the royal family. Azula had never thought for a moment that when she married it would be for love. Even now she tried to ignore her true motives for making this request.

As Ozai continued to ponder silently, Azula found it difficult to breathe, the anticipation strangling her. After a long thoughtful moment her father finally spoke, "I see the brilliance of a marriage such as this. However," Azula leaned forward, her breath having stopped all together, "I fear a union of this nature would be… imprudent."

Ozai's words hit Azula like a slap to the face. Her hope fizzling like a hot coal dropped into water.

"Privileged as he is here, we cannot ignore that the boy is… of inferior blood, an Air Nomad. A bastard who never knew his own parents—his people having cared nothing for pedigree. To mingle our purity with him would be… heretical. A taint in our family line that could never be weeded out."

Azula had considered this. To debase herself enough to marry an Air Nomad would be disgraceful. But this is where her affection began to override her logic. She desired him. And she simply could not will away his lineage. Of course she didn't prefer that he was from a lesser nation, but it had become something she was willing to accept.

"It is a well known fact that my heir must be a firebender," Azula spoke, her voice carrying in the empty room. "Agni forbids a non-bender, or a child of Air, from taking the Burning Throne." Azula had already considered this possible complication. "But I can assure a firebending heir; we both know there are ways." No more needed to be said. Her meaning was clear to both of them.

If a Firebender could not be produced with Aang, there were other ways to get what Agni required. It was her blood after all that was royal. And Royals of the past had gone to far greater lengths to assure their heirs were graced with the Touch of Agni. What's more, if it was done discretely, Aang need never know.

Azula continued, "Perhaps the advantages, the assurances, this betrothal could provide would merit special consideration. After all, Aang is the Avatar. A firebender. And perhaps, over time, history could be persuaded to forget his unfortunate parentage." Azula knew the words were dangerous; a radical idea that could bring down the wrath of her father upon her. "Royals of the past have done as much for far lesser reward," she finished.

Azula expected her father to be displeased, for the Burning Throne to erupt now with his anger. But to her delight, instead he sat forward, his face in the light once more. A smile graced Ozai's lips.

He echoed simply, "For a far lesser reward."

…..

"Aang, my son, welcome!"

Aang entered into the Burning Throne Room a little apprehensively.

He hated this room.

Aang had been brought here his first day out of prison to meet his "new father." He'd barely been able to see Firelord Ozai above the flames, and the heat in the room had felt unbearable.

It was then that he'd been informed about the extinction of his people. Ozai had come down from his throne and put on a hand on his shoulder as he broke the news. Aang remembered dropping to the floor with grief, struggling to keep the terrible thrashing power of the Avatar at bay within himself. He'd seen the tattoos on his hands flash from white to blue, to white, and then blue again. But he had fought it! He knew what he'd done before in the bay—all the people he'd killed, all the destruction—so he'd fought for control with everything he'd had! Finally his tattoos had stopped flashing, and he'd collapsed panting on the tile floor. He remembered the coldness of the floor on his cheek, a stark contrasted to the heat from the flames drying the sweat on his skin.

There had been a commotion in the room when the Avatar State had threatened to overcome him; the guards having gathered around, their weapons pointed toward him. But Ozai hadn't moved. He'd stood over Aang with a hungry calculation in his eye. To this day, Aang is not sure why he hadn't run.

Despite how much Aang hated this room, he walked confidently forward, with his shoulders erect, the points of his pompous cape faced skyward.

But as he approached the burning dais, he could tell right away this was no ordinary summons. Aang saw that twelve Fire Sages stood in front of the flames, six on either side. Both sides of the cavernous room held a collection of the Firelord's counselors and advisors, seated as witnesses; he picked out Counselor Zhao's face. Azula was here already, kneeling on the ground before the Burning Throne as though she had just finished her kowtow.

He didn't know why he was here beyond the fact that Ozai had summoned him. But whatever it was, it seemed to be a big deal. No wonder Counselor Zhao had bustled and clucked, insisting Aang wear his best formal wear.

As Aang moved to join Azula, his eyes involuntarily glanced toward the foremost pillar in the room, the one closest to the Burning Throne. He could see the chains still hanging there.

Aang rubbed his forearm trying to will away the panic the chains stoked within him. I'm not here for re-education. He told himself. Not this time. He took a deep breath to will away his anxiety, forcing his hands to be still.

Aang arrived at the front of the room, every eye on him. He knelt down next to Azula and put his forehead to the cold tile. "Father," he said deferentially.

"Welcome, my son!" Ozai said again, giving Aang permission to raise his head.

Aang glanced at Azula. She sent him a sidelong look, a small smile on her lips. Aang had worried that she would be furious about their fight in the arena earlier today; he'd never meant to be so rough. He was relieved she didn't seem to be angry at him.

But then again, Aang had never been very good at reading his sister, as though the world he saw and the one she saw were fundamentally not the same.

"Agni has blessed our family this day!" Ozai's voice rang out loud for all to hear. "Agni has blessed me, His chosen vessel, with a revelation. A revelation that will shower down blessings upon our family, our nation, even upon the whole world!"

The optimism in Ozai's voice made Aang nervous.

Ozai looked down on Aang from the Burning Throne. "Avatar Aang, I have treated you as a son for all these years. And now it is time for you to become a true member of the Royal Family."

Aang's mind grasped for what Ozai might be referring to. A ritual? Or a legal adoption? Aang remained on his knees, listening quietly while fighting the urge to fidget; he was concerned that he didn't know where this was going. He had learned through painful experience that ignorance was rarely treated kindly here in the fire palace.

Ozai stood from his throne and brought his hands together in front of him, parting the flames as he walked down towards his children.

The Firelord's arms spread wide for all to hear. "It is time for my daughter, the Crown Princess Azula, to marry!"

A low rumble rippled through the assembly as the witnesses took in the news. Aang was surprised; he hadn't heard Azula mention anything about any marriage prospects.

Aang glanced at Azula. A smirk was on her lips, although she avoided his eye, a light blush coloring her cheeks. A feeling of insecurity began to grow within Aang. He was happy for her, he supposed. But what did her marriage have to do with him becoming a true member of the…?

Oh no.

Aang's stomach felt sick. He couldn't possibly mean..?

Aang couldn't bring himself to glance at Azula a second time. He usually looked to her for guidance on what to do in situations like this. But a terrible heat was rising in his face, and he couldn't look at her, afraid that she might confirm what he feared.

Ozai opened his arms above the kneeling forms of Azula and Aang, bidding them to rise. They both stood, their capes falling in lush waves behind them. Ozai held out both his hands towards them. Azula and Aang each placed a hand in one of their father's.

Aang wanted to object! To tell the Firelord that he had this wrong! That he would never make a good husband for Azula. That they would never be happy together. That he loved someone else… But he knew he could never give voice to any of these objections. Not here. Not in front of all of these people. Probably not anywhere.

Aang felt a consuming hollowness begin to erode slowly inside him. As a boy, Aang had once found a beautiful iguana-moth laying on the ground. It was large and lovely, looking like it might take flight any moment. But as Aang had approached, the creature had stayed impeccably still. Closer inspection revealed that the iguana-moth was hollow. A parasite had invaded the poor creature and eaten it from the inside. The iguana-moth looked perfect, but all that had remained was its outer, empty shell.

Ozai lifted their two hands high so that all could see them, then he brought their hands together. The action turned Aang and Azula to face one another. Aang's mouth was dry. So dry he could hardly swallow.

The Firelord's voice range out again. "As Agni has decreed, tonight I announce the betrothal of my daughter, the Crown Princess Azula to Avatar Aang. Their union will be sealed forever, adding to the glory of this house, the House of Agni!"

A loud murmur rumbled through the crowd, but it quickly fell silent. Azula looked up at Aang then, triumph shining in her golden eyes.

"Through the union of these, my children," Ozai placed a hand on each of their shoulders turning them to face the audience, Aang and Azula's hands still linked, "Agni will continue to raise up rulers for His chosen nation. To guide and protect not just this nation alone, but the whole world!"

As if on cue, the sages all raised their hands to the sky and began to pray, a chant that echoed with the sound of many voices. Soon the spectators in the audience joined in on the chant, raising their hands as well. "Agni be praised! Glory to our Firelord, Agni's chosen vessel. And glory to the continuation of his family's seed, forever and ever!"

Aang stared out at them, hollow. A perfect empty shell.

…..

The rest of the betrothal ceremony was a blur. Aang stood before all those people, his hand in Azula's, the chants, the heat, his own sweat dripping down his back—all of it felt like it was happening to someone else.

He wished it was happening to someone else.

At some point during the chants, the Firelord placed his hands upon their shoulders once more, beckoning for the two of them to follow him through the fire. They retreated with Ozai onto the dais of the Burning Throne—deities going back to the firmament.

Aang had never been on top of the Burning Throne before. He looked down on the witnesses below like a god looking down from a burning sky. The three of them stood regally upon the dais for another moment, praises still echoing off the vaulted walls and ceiling, before Ozai turned and led Azula and Aang through an exit between the pillars.

The praises were immediately muffled when the heavy black curtain fell behind them. Aang found himself in a small, private room richly adorned in scarlet colored velvets. Gold tassels ornamented the plush seating, matching an enormous gold-gilded mirror hanging on one wall.

Ozai stood in front of the mirror and looked at his children's reflection in it, a satisfied smile on his lips. "Well done, my children! This announcement will no doubt cause quite the stir among the nobility. But I'm sure with this ceremony, backed by the sages, your betrothal will quickly be accepted without dissent. We can begin making plans to expedite the wedding in time for you two to leave for the Earth Kingdom as planned at the end of the season."

Aang felt a protest crawl dryly up this throat. "Father, are you sure…?"

Fire leaped in Ozai's golden eyes—eyes so very like his daughter's—as his face whipped angrily towards Aang. Fear rippled through Aang, a child's involuntary shudder. And the words died on his tongue.

But Ozai's demeanor softened somewhat when he turned fully towards his surrogate son. He placed a hand on the back of Aang's neck comfortingly as he spoke to him. "I am sure, Aang. A marriage between you and Azula is wise and will bring great blessings to not only our family and the Fire Nation, but to the whole world. Thus far you have only borrowed our good name. But think of the good you can do for the world when you hold true political sway in the most powerful nation in the world? You and your children, and your children's children, will have the power to bring peace and prosperity to all, for generations to come."

Aang swallowed thickly, his throat so, so dry. Tears stung at his eyes, but he had long learned to control such things. Crying was disgraceful in the Fire Nation, and emotion was weakness. He simply stood, stone faced.

Ozai did not wait for Aang to respond, expecting his words to be accepted wholeheartedly without question. He turned to leave the small sitting room. As he opened the door, he turned towards his children one last time, the softness in his voice gone. "I have decided. And what I decide is Right."

Then Ozai exited. The loss of his commanding presence left the room deflated.

Aang stood motionless. Ozai's last words echoed inside him with the finality of a heavy stone lid sliding onto an urn.

It was decided. And it would be. Ozai's word was law.

It wasn't until Aang heard the swish of Azula's cape being removed and flung onto a chair that he was reminded that he wasn't alone. "Ugh, the pomp and circumstance of these ceremonies is always so tedious!" Azula denounced with a dramatic sigh. "But the laymen must be appeased I suppose."

She said the words with her usual derision, superiority dripping in her tone. But there was something in her demeanor that was off. She was watching Aang carefully. Gauging his response. Aang got the distinct impression that she was nervous.

Aang kept his eyes averted. He had no idea what to say.

Aang wondered what Azula thought of this new "arrangement." She didn't, at least, appear surprised. So she must have known about it beforehand.

"Come now, Aang, say something! You act as though you're waiting in line for execution." Again her voice was teasing, but underneath he heard… what? Vulnerability?

But still Aang had no idea what to say. He couldn't very well admit that he felt like he was in line for execution. He looked at his feet, still rooted to the same spot he'd been since entering the room.

He felt Azula approach him. She took his hand. His gut reaction was to pull away. But Aang had spend years ignoring his gut. So he let her. "Come now, Aang. Surely you can see what a cunning and brilliant plan this is." When he finally looked at his sister, he saw that she was blushing, avoiding his eye.

But her coyness quickly disappeared as she placed herself squarely in front of him, her body very close. Her eyes glimmered greedily at him. "One day I will be Firelord. And you and I will be the most powerful couple in the world!" She pulled on his hand, bringing him against her. She tipped her face up to his, her eyes burning. "Can't you feel the power between us? Don't you want it?! You heard what Father said." Azula looked down in uncharacteristic shyness, a blush coloring her porcelain features. "You can kiss me now, Aang."

Aang's eyes unfocused as his stunned mind struggled to keep up, to figure out what to do. Azula had beauty, power, intelligence and poise—most men would sell their souls to marry her. But Aang was not 'most men,' and his soul never belonged to him anyway. And now it had been sold. Sold to Azula. Irrevocably.

Despairing, Aang's thoughts inevitably turned to Katara. To the beautiful lie he'd been living imagining that he could actually be with the one he truly loved. It had felt so real. But in the end it had always been nothing more than an illusion. He could feel his dream of being with Katara slipping through his grasping fingers, being swallowed up in the hollow emptiness of his new reality.

Aang's eyes moved sluggishly to his own reflection in the great, gilded mirror. He looked ashen. Like a shadow. He felt disconnected from himself, as though the reflection was more himself than the man standing in his own body.

Azula tugged on his hand, drawing his gaze back to her. Her golden eyes flashed dangerously. "Didn't you hear me, Aang? I said, 'kiss me!'"

Aang closed his eyes and swallowed. His thoughts returned to what Gyatso had taught him about fragmenting—about doing something with his his body that he didn't do with his mind and heart. He knew that if he were to kiss her, he would be doing that with Azula. Because as much as he did care for her, love her even, he was not in love with her. And he didn't know if he ever could be.

But physical intimacy wasn't the only way to fragment oneself. Hadn't he been fragmenting himself already for years? Every time he fought, every time he sat with the Fire Sages pretending to meditate, every time he called Ozai "Father?"

Thus Aang closed his eyes and locked his heart away. He forced himself to lean into Azula with his body, circling her trim waist in his hands as she pulled his mouth eagerly toward her own.

….

Aang opened the door to his room woodenly. He felt leaden. Dead. Like the last merry spark inside him had finally been snuffed out.

He froze at the open door. His lamps were lit. His glazed eyes struggled to focus again as he forced himself to see.

Captain Li stood at attention in his room, Katara standing chained and blindfolded next to him. In his distraction Aang had forgotten Katara would be here tonight. He was late. How long had she had to wait for him? The answer seemed unimportant.

Aang's mind cranked rustily, his thoughts hard to process. Counselor Zhao had been at the announcement this evening. Didn't he think this inappropriate given the announcement? Maybe Zhao had neglected to inform the captain, who had been overseeing these visits for some time now, about the engagement. Or maybe he didn't think it would change anything. Aang was too tired to muster disgust at this whole twisted society.

Aang's drunken-yet-painfully-sober eyes looked at Katara. She stood in chains, yes, but what of his own?

Not all chains are visible.

Perhaps this is what he deserved? Karma for running away when he was a boy. For killing all those people in the bay. The Firelord had been merciful to him, good to him. Who else would invite a murderer to live in his home, treating him as their own child? Aang felt trapped, but maybe bondage is what he deserved.

Aang motioned minutely with his head, and Captain Li left the room.

Aang looked darkly at Katara again. She was beautiful and kind and good. He wanted her. He could have her too, tonight if he wished. He could finally take what he wanted. He couldn't choose where he lived, what he did, or even who he married. He couldn't seem to control one single thing in his life. But he could have her. Tonight.

His body wanted her. Aang walked over to her, lifting his hand. Silently he took off Katara's blindfold.

Her blue eyes looked up at him. She smiled.

And Aang's heart broke.

Because he knew that "taking" her that way would never make her his. Sure, he could taste her body, pleasure himself with her beauty. But what he had fallen in love with was her spirit. And he would never have that. Someone like Katara, despite her chains, was free in ways he would never be.

Aang had seen the way Azula was dominated by Ozai, and how in response she had dominated Mai and Ty Lee. Suddenly he understood that desire. To not just take it, but to dish it out as well. But just as suddenly, this new understanding made him sick. He couldn't be like that. He wouldn't.

Aang averted his eyes from her as he quietly worked to unlock her shackles. He felt shame at his thoughts. Of course he would never force himself on her. The thought sickened him. What was wrong with him? The desperation he'd been feeling since his engagement to Azula began to be all consuming, like a disease spreading throughout him.

He never should have left the Air Temple as a child. Even if he would have died from the same plague that killed all the other Air Nomads… Maybe he could have found a cure? Or at the very least died a free boy among those he loved. Among those who loved him.

Katara watched him carefully, no doubt confused by his sullen silence. He turned away from her. She has been the one bright spot in his life these past months. But where had he really thought things would go with her? Somewhere happy? Had he actually been a big enough fool to imagine so? Or an even bigger fool to truly hope? Of course for him, falling in love would only lead to heartbreak. He didn't deserve love.

Aang stalked toward his bed, ripping his ridiculous cape off and dropping it on the floor.

Azula loved him. She'd as much as admitted it, although not in so many words. And he cared about Azula, he wanted her to be happy. But she was cruel. And manipulative. She wanted from Aang what she could not force from him. She couldn't make him love her.

But Aang knew he was no better. He glanced at Katara with a pang of longing—Aang was no more likely to get what he wanted than his sister.

Aang began to tear off his formal wear—the armor, the sashes, the spirits-forsaken wide-sleeved robe—and threw them all into heaps.

"Aang?"

He felt his eyes prickle at the sound of his name on her tongue. It made him ache.

Aang unclasped the buckles on his high upturned boots and yanked them off.

A flare of irrational anger towards Katara spiked within him. This was really her fault! Aang knew that something had changed in Azula this morning, after fighting with Katara. And now he was engaged to the Crown Princess! Why hadn't Katara listened to him when he'd begged her not to fight?!

He flung the boot in his hand hard against the wall with a growl!

Katara stood very still, watching him.

Suddenly Aang's anger evaporated. His shoulders sagged, his whole body all at once feeling very heavy.

He knew he couldn't blame Katara. Had the fight this morning pushed Azula over some limit? Perhaps. But if Azula had wanted to marry Aang, then it would have happened sooner or later anyway.

Azula always got what she wanted.

"Aang?" Katara asked again, concern clear in her voice.

Aang tried to push the tears away, but he felt his chin crumple. He sat heavily on the side of his bed, tunneling his fingers into his hair. They caught in his topknot, so he yanked roughly at the small golden flame tying his bun. He wanted to throw it, but instead he brought it down to look at it, fingering the golden emblem. Eventually he tossed it resignedly into one of the heaps of his clothes on the floor.

He glanced at Katara, trying and failing to give her a half-smile.

"Um… sorry about all of that." He motioned half-heartedly to the clothes he'd strewn about in his tantrum. "I just, um…" but words failed him and he felt his hands rub roughly at his forearms. He tried to make himself stop, but he couldn't. He closed his eyes tight to keep the tears from falling.

Aang felt a weight settle next to him on the bed. He opened his eyes to see Katara sitting next to him, her beautiful face full of worry, of care. Without a word she opened her arms and as if by some unseen pull, Aang found himself drawn unwittingly into her embrace.

Aang held onto Katara, burying his head in the space on her chest beneath her chin, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. And for a time, he let go of reality. He imagined that the two of them were free and Elsewhere. That he could simply feel what he felt for her. In his dream, she loved him too.

The beauty of the image cut him deeply. He knew this cut would likely scar him for the rest of his days—a wish for what could have been, that would haunt him forever.

The unattainableness of it brought a rumbling sob from deep within him. And then another. He turned his face in towards Katara and gripped her closer to him. She ran her hands through his hair and rubbed his back gently, hugging his head and shoulders to her. She spoke kind words, some of which he didn't understand—what language was that?—but his soul knew what she was saying. "It's okay. It'll all be alright. I've got you."

They were all lies of course—she didn't even know what had happened—but he let himself believe them like he was a small boy in Gyatso's arms. He knew he would lose Katara. Like he had lost Gyatso. Never to be had again. But he was here now. And Katara was here now. And he wasn't going to squander it just because it could never be again.

Aang breathed into the moment. And let his love for Katara fill him to the brim. He let the sorrow and happiness spill over with his tears.

Aang wanted to pull back and kiss Katara—kiss her like he'd kissed her on the rooftop just last night!

But Aang could still feel Azula on his lips-a sanctioned kiss that had felt like cheating. And now, no matter how right it would feel, kissing Katara really would be cheating. His reality and his feelings were so at odds with one another, twisted and turned inside out. So Aang just clutched Katara harder, as though she could keep his world from spiraling.

This would be the last time he'd hold her. He knew he could no longer bring her to his room, to talk and laugh and play games. If Azula found out it would be disastrous. Already, just having her here tonight was dangerous. There would be no more of these escapes from reality, living out wishes that were damned before they started.

Aang cried for a long time. And Katara held him. He took comfort from her ever-giving embrace. She didn't ask him questions, but still she shared the burden of his pain. Eventually his sobs ran dry.

"Thank you, Katara," he whispered weakly.

She answered by pulling his head back and brushing his hair back from his forehead gently with her hand. The look she gave him was so tender it stole his breath. Her silent look asked him, but he didn't have words to answer. Not tonight.

Aang knew it was wrong not to tell her about his engagement. But he just couldn't bear to say the words out loud. The Air Nomads had believed that voice—the wind emanating from deep within—had the power to make Truth. Aang knew it was irrational, but he couldn't shake the superstition that somehow saying the words—I'm engaged to Princess Azula—would make it more real than it already was.

But thinking about Azula brought Aang back to reality. And the danger he was playing with.

"You better go," Aang said with more regret than she would ever know.

Katara nodded. Aang could see the confusion, the hurt in her eyes. But even though she did not understand, she trusted him anyway. She placed a sweet kiss on his cheek before turning shyly away and preparing to go. Aang's hand covered his cheek as if he could trap the feeling of her lips there forever.

As with times past, Aang very gently put her restraints back into place. With each click of the chains on her wrists and ankles, he felt the weight clamp on his own hands and feet. Last of all the blindfold: with the closing of her eyes, he closed his own heart.

Then, however, because he couldn't stop himself, Aang enfolded Katara in a last desperate hug, his hand cupping her blindfolded head to his chest. She couldn't put her arms around him, because of her chains, but she leaned into him, nuzzling his neck. His face crumpled in a silent sob again, but he hid it from her. I love you, Katara. The same superstition kept him from saying the words out loud; like somehow keeping the words inside could make them no longer true.

Last minute Aang remembered, and took something from his desk. Putting the note in her hand he said, "I almost forgot, someone gave this to me to give to you. I meant to give it to you this morning, but… well, things happened and I got distracted…" Katara nodded and put the note blindly in her pocket.

Katara left then, escorted away by Captain Li. Aang achingly watched her go until they rounded the corner and he couldn't see her anymore. Then he shut his door and turned back to what he'd always had to hold onto before she'd entered his life.

And Nothing welcomed him with her ever expansive arms.

…