…

Katara had promised herself long ago that she would never stand helplessly by again when someone she loved was in danger.

And yet here she stood, her arms chained above her head to an immovable marble column in the Firelord's throne room, unable to do anything more that watch as the man she loved fought for his life. And hers.

Knowing that the best way for her to help Aang right now was probably not to draw attention to herself, Katara glanced warily at the Crown Princess who paced agitatedly not far from where Katara was chained. But Azula seemed to be ignoring Katara completely, her jaguar eyes not veering from the conflict blazing between the Avatar and her father. She made no move to intervene, and yet every muscle in her body appeared tensed, as though the opposition she witnessed was reflected within her own body. Occasionally, and inexplicably, the Princess spoke to the air around her—Katara could see that something was clearly off about her.

But frankly what was going on with the Princess did not concern Katara at the moment. Right now, all her thoughts whirled in worry over Aang.

Having finally freed himself from the chains that had bound his hands, Aang now stood across from the Firelord, his hands and attention up, but not making a move. "We can end this here, Firelord Ozai," he said boldly to his opponent. "We don't have to fight."

Ozai laughed, a truly chilling sound. "I see you are as naive and stupid as ever, Aang. But seeing as my experiment with you has failed, it is high time time I ended it."

Katara gasped as a huge plume of fire then burst from Ozai's punched fist. For a moment she lost sight of Aang as he was engulfed in the hot flames! She choked on her own held breath until, with a relieved exhale, she saw him again, his fists and forearms bending the fire away.

Katara struggled against the manacles again, but it was no use. Right now she could be nothing more than a witness.

And a liability…

…..

Ozai let out another onslaught, and Aang stepped backward one step with each offense, dissipating the flames.

"I don't want to fight you," he yelled, reluctant to attack his surrogate father.

Ozai sneered. "You always have been a coward, Aang." More fire. "Always afraid of what needs to be done," two more burning punches that Aang deflected to either side, "and of what you could have become!" Ozai swung a low round kick of snarling flames along the floor. Aang jumped, suspending in the air to avoid the fire but still moving backward. "You have always dragged your feet even as your potential hovered right in front of you!"

"I tried to please you," Aang defended, stung by how easily Ozai dismissed his hours toil, his years of painstaking effort to become what he'd wanted.

"Please me?!" Ozai scoffed. "How could I be pleased with a spineless traitor like you!?"

He then ran at Aang with a surprising burst of speed. Aang jumped, diving over the Firelord, his foot launching off of Ozai's back to push himself up into the air while forcing Ozai down and clattering to the floor. Body straight, Aang flipped, turning like a screw mid-air to land behind, but facing, the Firelord.

When Ozai whipped around to face him, his hair was uncharacteristically disheveled, his face furious as he barked. "My Grandfather Sozin was right! The only good airbender is a dead airbender." And he brought his fiery fist swinging forward.

But Ozai's words turned Aang's resolve from reluctance to stone. The airiness in Aang's feet vanished and he dropped solidly onto the floor, punching the sky to bring a sturdy slab of earth up right in front of the Firelord. Ozai's fist connected hard with the stone, and he cried out, cradling his injured knuckles.

"You filthy ingrate!" he snarled and fire-kicked the stone down. But when it fell Aang was unexpectedly right there, advancing upon him, sending his own fistful of fire at the Firelord. Ozai knew of Aang's propensity for defense and evasion, so this charge came unexpected.

Ozai's surprise made his block slow, and now he was back-stepping, blocking and retreating as Aang advanced upon him. With each step Aang knocked Ozai off balance, switching between the elements to keep him guessing and retreating.

The Firelord had turned Aang into this Weapon, and now he had to deal with it.

One final blocked fire-punch from Ozai, and Aang sent the Firelord spinning and skidding to the floor in a whirlwind! Aang stood above him with his hands up, short links of severed chain dangling from the broken manacles on his wrists.

Ozai was wholly at the Avatar's mercy now.

But a sudden rush of fire hit Aang from the side, knocking him off balance and stumbling sideways to keep on his feet—the intensity of this fire's heat feeling very familiar.

Getting his feet under him, Aang turned to face Azula, who now stood protectively over her father. For a moment their eyes locked—betrayal, regret and resolve too complicated for words passing between them—then Aang was once again on the defensive. Azula's style had always been particularly ferocious and difficult to combat—precise, powerful and unthinkably quick. Knowing Aang's preference to seek height, Azula kept her assaults high, forcing Aang to stay on the ground, but all the while hitting him with such speed that he was forced to continually retreat.

But as he repeatedly batted Azula's blue flames away, their parry took on a familiar rhythm. Although countering her attacks took all of his concentration and his reflexes were taxed to their limits, Aang soon realized that she was holding back.

As was he.

"We don't have to do this, Azula," Aang spoke past her blue flames as her offenses sent him once again traveling circularly, backward toward the center of the room. "I don't want to hurt you."

Azula stood facing him, the orange flames of her father's throne burning brightly at her back. For a moment, conflict traveled over her face, a very uncharacteristic hesitation in her body stilling her forward onslaught and making her look young, so young.

But then hatred settled in her eyes, and she snarled at Aang, "But I do want to hurt you!" And she let loose a tremendous ball of blue fire from between her arms. The fire tore from her chest as though a wild, captive fire-monster had finally burst free!

On reflex, Aang made his own shielding ball of fire, his orange hitting her blue with a tremendous explosion, throwing everything backward.

Aang hit the marble with a heavy whack, his burned back screaming in protest. His spine arched in pain, turning him onto his side as he breathed heavily to recover.

He could see that the blast had also thrown Azula backward and to the ground, but she was quicker to return to her feet. Aang struggled, pushing himself to sitting as Azula advanced. Aang scrambled backward on his hands, his pain still disorienting, as blue fire ignited in Azula's hand.

"You would choose her," Azula seethed as she advanced, her arm slashing in the direction of where Katara was chained, "a filthy whoring peasant? Over me, the crown Princess of the most powerful nation in the world?!"

Ozai, having also been blown back by the blast, returned to his feet and moved to stand beside his daughter, his injured hand cradled to his chest. But Azula didn't seem to notice, all of her attention spearing Aang. Aang scrambled further backward like a crab-spider.

"I don't understand. We could have been everything together," her voice pleaded.

"I… We were never right for one another—"

"We were!" Azula screamed, a crazed panic in her eyes, the fire in her hand extinguishing as she reached something out of her pocket. "It would have been perfection…"

"Enough of this Azula," Ozai prodded. "End him!"

Azula's attention was suddenly torn from Aang, her eyes blowing wide as she looked bewildered at her father. Her mouth dropped open silently like a koi fish.

"I said, End him!" Ozai repeated impatiently. "Use your cold fire."

Azula's head was shaking and she took a step backward, clutching the object from her pocket to her chest. "Mai was wrong. I can find the right leverage. I can still force him to—"

"Azula!" Ozai fumed, pushing his way in front of her. "What is this prattle? Enough." Then turning to face Aang dead on, Ozai proclaimed, "Fine. I'll do it myself."

An electric crackle sparked in the air as the Firelord brought both his arms around in two large circles, a charge sizzling at his fingers. Aang barely managed to push himself back onto his feet, when his one-time father's face flashed blue in murderous delight, lighting shooting from his fingers.

…..

Azula moved before her brain said to.

The sound of a ripping heart burst from her throat as she lurched forward, plunging Mai's knife deep into the space beside her father's shoulder blade. He jerked under her and the electricity in his hands splintered, jolting through its master before bursting outward in all directions.

A heartbeat too late, what she had done hit her.

Like lightning.

…

The bolt slammed into his body with the force of a hurled mountain. Instinctively Aang had reached out his hand, as if to grab it, like racing to meet Death half-way.

Not even the consuming, vibrating power of the Avatar State could rival the intensity, the blinding potency of the lightning as it froze and burned its way through Aang's limbs. He felt his bones vibrate, preparing to shatter apart like the mighty oak's trunk beneath an electric shock from the sky.

Redirection must become second nature to you, Avatar. Faster than a reflex! Even—no perhaps especially—if it comes lighting fast.

Master Pakku's words rang with new truth in his stunned ears, and he grasped hold of the cold fire, cradling it to his chest like the infant version of his greatest fear, first in his arms, then down to his core, and then surging outward again, bursting free from his other arm that reached like a plea towards heaven.

The blinding white current exploded into the throne room's vaulted ceiling above the burning throne, tearing the building open, renting it like a veil, laying bare the black night beyond and its numberless witnessing stars. The foremost column—Aang's familiar whipping post—toppled, as if in slow motion, crashing down upon the raised dais, crushing half of the Firelord's throne and snuffing out the eternal flame with a tremendous reverberating boom. Bits of ceiling rained down upon them all like justice thrown down from angels' hands.

Aang's nerves sizzled, dancing with the keyed up energy of feeling Death's scythe slice the hairs off his neck, before being turned away to reap elsewhere.

Faster than a reflex, Aang wondered, bewildered, as he collapsed, shaking, to the floor.

…

The shock hit her with such force that every muscle in her body seemed to convulse simultaneously. She could see the flash behind her open eyes, taste the electricity on her teeth, the bolt traveling down her spine hotter than fire.

"Father, no…" Azula breathed, far too late, as she faltered, suspended like a towering, rootless tree in the wind…

Before crumpling to the floor, sparks still convulsing in her cells.

….

The sound of her own scream did not register in her ears until after it was all over.

Katara had watched with captive horror as the Firelord—with blinding speed—generated lightning in his hands! His sights had been set with deadly intent upon Aang, who'd stood across from him naive and unarmed.

But as the Firelord had brought his aim forward, Azula had fallen upon his back, causing the shaft of lighting to splinter into pieces.

Some of the electric surge had engulfed its creator—zapping the Firelord and his daughter in a terrifying seizure of white light—but the rest had emanated outward, faster than thought, in multiple directions, the bulk of it hitting the Avatar so hard that his feet slid twenty paces backward across the marble floor. His body seemed to glow and writhe, before he somehow, inexplicably, sent the lightning back outward, surging into the sky.

Only then did she hear the screams. Her own, mingled with the cries of all the others.

Aang fell to his knees—

The princess stumbled backward, falling to the ground and convulsing, spider-webs of electricity still skittering across her skin—

While the Firelord slumped onto his face, unmoving, his body steaming… The handle of a knife, pushed all the way to the hilt, in his back.

…..

Aang knelt upon the ground, his muscles protesting in an exhaustion like he'd never experienced before. Shocked, his sluggish mind struggled to register all of what had just happened. For a time it was more than he could manage just to remember the simple act of how to breathe.

But a sound snapped him back to reality. Aang looked up to see the Firelord, unmoving before him, and Azula curled upon herself beside him, sobbing like a lost child.

Aang had never seen Azula cry before—not in all the years they'd spent growing up together as adopted siblings—and the sound of it sent fear and compassion rushing through him, almost more powerful than the lightning he'd just held in his chest.

Sliding his feet unsteadily beneath him, Aang hobbled toward her. He pointedly averted his eyes from Ozai's still form, and covered his nose and mouth with his hand to block out the smell of charred flesh, as he rushed to his sister and collapsed beside her.

"Azula?" he asked tentatively. Her body convulsed, and his hovering hand above her shoulder sensed the tingle of electricity. "Azula, are you okay?" he asked, even knowing that she wasn't.

She turned her head toward him, her wet eyes dull. "Aaang…"

Rolling her onto her back, Aang gasped when he saw the gaping wound just under her sternum, gnarled burns like ancient tree roots spreading outward from it. The flesh there sizzled, still smoking. "Oh spirits, Azula…"

A helpless dread clawed its way up Aang's throat, choking him. Azula had tried to save him. And now she was dying for it! Despite her cruelty, Aang still cared for his sister.

He had to do something to help her!

In a panic, Aang ran for his knapsack, retrieved the canteen of water he'd stored there, and then raced back to Azula's side. Aang scrubbed tears out of his eyes as he hastily bent the water out of the canteen. Bringing the water to his hands, he gently placed them on Azula's wound, closed his eyes and released a deep breath.

He needed to heal her! He needed now, more than ever, to call that coveted healing magic into his hands. He concentrated with all his might.

He felt a sob rumble deep in his chest. Water from his eyes mixed with the water in his hands.

But nothing. Still nothing. His hands remained dim.

"Aang," Azula croaked again, grabbing his wrist with a weak hand. "Leave it…"

"No." Aang refused. "You'll be okay!" Shame consumed him, knowing his power was not enough.

Suddenly his head snapped up, looking toward Katara with a new desperate hope. "Katara! Please… help her."

….

When Aang's pleading eyes turned towards her, Katara became aware of herself again, as though she'd been witnessing all of this out of body.

But when Aang's words registered in her ears—"Katara! Please… help her"—suddenly she was thrust back inside herself. She felt her own heart beat loud in her ears, felt her arms shackled above her head ache with pain, felt her cheek sting sharply from Azula's slap.

Thus far she had been only a witness. But now she was being asked to act. And she wasn't sure she could do it.

Before she knew it Aang was racing toward her. As he ran he called a fallen stone to his hand, and—she flinched her face away—smashed the stone into the chain between her raised hands. Her arms fell limply down to her sides, suddenly flooding with the strange tingling sensation of blood rushing to her fingertips.

The stone dropped from Aang's fingers and his hands grabbed her, steadying her against the pillar, his eyes pleading. "Katara?" His eyes ghosted over her smarting cheekbone, and she saw him swallow. He brought his hand up to cradle her other cheek, gently moving his thumb over her skin, apology in his every move.

But there was urgency amid his regret. "Please, Katara—please heal Azula!"

Katara looked to where she lay, a heap of unmoving limbs and a smoking torso.

Aang's hand slipped into hers and he pulled her toward the fallen princess. Katara's feet moved to follow him, but her heart didn't move with her.

She hated the dying woman.

This woman had perpetuated the war, wreaked havoc across the Earth Kingdom. She'd hunted Zuko, her own brother, with deadly intent. She'd attempted to kill Katara more than once, and had tried to force Aang into a marriage he'd never wanted. Azula had brought Katara here tonight to use her—use her against Aang! A manipulation that had nearly gotten him killed.

The last thing Katara wanted to do was to help her.

But she haltingly followed Aang who dropped down beside Azula, lifting the dying princess's head and shoulders to cradle her in his lap. His eyes then fell upon Katara, begging her to help. "Please, Katara. I can't… I can't do it myself."

Katara's knees felt like steel, unable to bend. Her eyes tore from Aang's entreating gaze and fell upon the crown princess's face. Azula's gaze drifted to her, life dim but eyes still like swirling molten gold. But when they registered Katara, the molten turned solid and hard—even dying Azula's eyes held nothing but hatred for Katara.

"Please, Katara! I need you to heal her… she's… dying! I can't let her just die!"

Why? she wondered, narrowing her eyes at the way Aang held Azula so tenderly. His face was dirty, and she could see the trails his tears made through the ash and burns on his cheeks.

The princess's slow gaze also turned to the face of the Avatar, and something soft and vulnerable bloomed on her face. With no energy left for pretense and calculation, honesty alone remained in her dimming eyes. A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. "Aang," she croaked, a hand trying to lift towards him, but fell down again under its own weight.

"It will be okay," he told her, brushing her hair from her face.

Jealousy skirted the edges of Katara's indecision.

Aang looked pleadingly at Katara once again. "I tried to heal her, Katara. I tried! But I can't. Please, will you? For me?"

Compassion for him swelled within her.

She knew how much Aang had lost in his life. She couldn't bear to see him lose anyone else. Not when she had the power to prevent it.

So Katara fell to her knees, calling the puddle of fallen water to her hands and placing them on Azula's seared torso. She took a deep breath and felt the humming glow of healing generate in her hands and penetrate deep into the wound. The glow from her hands reflected in Aang's face as he watched Azula intently, hope and desperation all pleading for a miracle.

Suddenly Katara both heard and felt Azula gasp, life flooding back into her lungs as the wound closed under Katara's hands. The princess had been lucky that the electricity she'd been dealt was mostly secondary—the majority having surged through her father and out into the room. But even so, without Katara's healing it would have taken her life.

When Azula's eyes filled with life and her chest rose and fell with full breaths again, Katara sighed deeply.

She hadn't done it because Azula deserved it. Or because she'd forgiven the princess her many offenses against her.

She'd done it for Aang.

…

Death had been stripping her, one by one, of all of her burdens: Ambition. Pride. Perfection. The voices in her head. Her very body and mind. All of it had been slipping away like beach sand clenched in a chubby baby fist.

All that had remained was emotion. And her lips had smiled. Even knowing she would never have him, the love she'd felt had tasted sweet and his arms around her had been enough.

But as Life had surged back into her, all at once her burdens had returned, crushing the simple joy and thrusting Conscious Thought upon her once again.

"Azula!" Aang's voice emanated relief. "You're okay!" He laughed through his tears.

The happiness in his voice made her heart leap. Until she remembered…

Azula sat up abruptly, ripping out of Aang's arms as she did so.

"You've lost," Mai stated with dry frankness.

Azula's head swiveled frantically around her, taking in her surroundings like a flightless bird in a den of rattle-ferrets. She saw the destruction: rubble everywhere, the fallen column, the sky peering down at them from above. She felt the emptiness of the extinguished trenches that should have been burning with eternal flames.

And then her eyes fell on Father… and the handle of Mai's knife sticking out of his back.

"I thought you were having a wedding in the morning?" Ty Lee's bewildered voice said, "Not a funeral…"

A sinking abyss opened beneath her feet, and Azula startled backward, teetering on the edge. She had done it. She had plunged the knife into her own father's back.

Because he'd been about to kill Aang.

Aang

Her eyes found him, his arms still suspended from where she'd torn herself from his grasp. It made it look as though he was reaching for her.

"Oh, but Honey," her mother crooned, pity lacing her words. "He doesn't want you…"

"I know!" Azula snarled, throwing her arm out as if to push away the woman who spoke in her ear. "You don't have to say it!"

"W…what?" Aang asked her, his eyes concerned, caring. "I don't understand…"

He would never understand.

Azula's eyes flitted away from him and up to the waterbender, who now stood right behind him, distrust in her eyes as she watched Azula warily. She placed a careful restraining hand on Aang's shoulder.

Azula narrowed her eyes at that hand. For ruining her wedding she ought to burn the woman alive and then dance in the ashes!

"I'll murder you where you stand, peasant!" Azula seethed sitting up on her knees and glaring at the waterbender, angry and dangerous.

"Good idea!" Ty Lee affirmed.

"Not likely," Mai droned skeptically.

Her mother just tsked.

But suddenly Aang was standing too, placing his body protectively in front of the waterbender. "Azula," he said placatingly. "Katara just saved your life."

Laughter bubbled out her mouth. What?! She was now indebted to the water peasant? They should have just let her die!

The laughter bursting from Azula's mouth suddenly turned to fire! And then she was thrusting her fists at them both, blue flames surging forward as if from the mouth of a dragon!

But as the fire surged toward the pair, her flames bulged suddenly, fanning out as though they'd hit an invisible barrier. When the blue fire dissipated—the flames curling out into nothingness—Aang and the peasant had disappeared.

A sob gathered from deep inside her, building painfully in her throat. But when the pressure finally erupted from her mouth it sounded like laughter. She rolled onto her back and laughed and laughed and laughed.

It was then that she glimpsed him again, jumping weightlessly up the broken pillars and out into the sky, the thieving waterbender nestled forever in his arms.

…

"Otōto are you here?!"

As Aang and Katara crept quietly into Appa's dark stable, Aang ignited a tiny flame in his hand. Even cupping his other hand around the flame, the light seemed too bright in the pitch darkness.

Appa's ear flipped at the sound of Aang's voice, and then he stirred, shaking his furry head awake and opening his mouth in a tremendous yawn.

"Hey, Appa!"

Moving the light backward Aang then saw Otōto, the 12-year-old stable boy, stirring from his sleep nestled between Appa's flank and his middle leg, his head resting on Appa's paw. The image made Aang pause, remembering the many times when he had slept with Appa this same way.

Otōto sat up and stretched, giving Aang a bleary-eyed look as he squinted against the light. When recognition of Aang dawned on the boy's sleepy face, he then threw up his hands in exasperated scolding at Aang and laying back down defiantly, nuzzling his head in Appa's fur to get comfortable.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Aang chuckled, love for this boy filling his heart. "I'm sorry to wake you, Otōto. But this is an emergency. I need to take Appa away."

At those words Otōto shot up, surprised question on his face.

Aang moved quickly, transferring his fire to light one of the hanging lamps. He then grabbed a long strap off a hook in the wall and started tying it onto one of Appa's horns.

The boy got to his feet and walked toward Aang, looking more closely at him. Otōto put his hand on Aang's to still his work on Appa's rein, concern in his expression as he gestured first to the burn on Aang's cheek—where he'd taken a hard fire-punch from Ozai—but then, looking over Aang's entire disheveled form, he swept his arm to include all of him.

Aang felt the burn on his face gently with the pads of his fingers, painfully aware of the burns on his back as well, realizing that he must look pretty terrible.

He chuckled ruefully. "I'm okay, don't worry about me. I'm sorry, Buddy. I know this is a surprise. But it's not safe for us," Aang gestured to Katara and himself, "or Appa, anymore. We've got to get out of here."

Otōto waved his hands in frantic question.

"I know," Aang said, his heart moving in empathy for Otōto. "I know this isn't good for you. I know Appa is your job—"

Otōto cut him off with a reproachful swipe of his hand. He moved his arms passionately and then set a meaningful hand on Appa's furry head and then moved that same hand to his own chest.

"I know," Aang said with a thick voice, "I know Appa is more to you than a job. I didn't mean that."

Otōto looked at Aang intensely for a moment, but then grabbed the strap, somewhat petulantly, from Aang and began quickly tying it around Appa's other horn.

An alarm gong began banging in the direction of the palace. They all looked up sharply. Another, closer gong soon joined the clatter. Voices and commotion could be heard in the distance.

"We've got to hurry!" Katara said urgently as she rummaged through a pile of things in the corner.

Worry clenched in Aang's stomach, knowing they had no time. "It's a wonder that we got this far frankly, before they started the alarms." Then looking at Katara he asked, "What are you looking for?"

"A water skin, or canteen… anything I can take with me." She looked pointedly at Aang then. "I'm tired of being helpless, Aang! I need some water."

"All I had was that one canteen—but it got left with Azula…" Aang gulped, trying not to think of his adopted sister.

Otōto quickly tightened the knot he was tying on Appa's horn and then ran to a small pile of his things next to his chair. He pulled out a water skin and then rushed to Katara's side and pushed it into her hands.

"You would give me yours?" she asked, clearly touched by this boy's generosity.

Otōto shrugged bashfully, and Katara leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Otōto."

Otōto's whole face turned bright red and then he cocked an eyebrow at Aang with a devilish, gloating smirk. Again Aang laughed. The little imp!

But they had to move! Aang pulled on Appa's reins, coaxing his giant friend to stand and leading him out of the stable while Katara worked on filling Otōto's water skin to the brim from the pump.

They could hear soldiers clattering their way toward them. "We've got to go!" Aang urged. Katara ran to his side and he helped her scramble up onto Appa's back.

But as he prepared to mount Appa as well, he looked back at Otōto and stopped. He then looked to Katara and she nodded back at him with knowing support.

"I want you to come with us, Otōto. You can escape with me and Katara and Appa! We're going to the Earth Kingdom. Do you want to see the Earth Kingdom?"

Otōto paused, but then shook his head. He rubbed his fingers like counting coins, then gestured like he was patting the heads of kids smaller than him; he then puffed up his chest and pointed at himself with his thumb.

Aang nodded heavily. "You've got little brothers and sisters who need you? I understand. But…" Aang's voice suddenly stuck in his throat. "Appa and I, we're going to really miss you."

Otōto rolled his eyes, making an exaggerated crying face at Aang, teasing him for being a big baby. Aang laughed through his tears and tussled the boy's hair, pulling him into a hug and pretending not to notice that Otōto's eyes were glistening as well.

Then Aang was up, sitting on Appa's head, the rein in his hands. From this high he could see over the wall—there were rows of torches headed their way!

"Otōto, run out to the soldiers and point them in the direction we've gone. Can't let them think you helped us." Otōto nodded. "Be safe, Buddy."

Otōto ran off in the direction of the gate.

"Yip, yip!" Aang sang out. And Appa lurched into the sky, flying them away!

…

Quiet had fallen suffocatingly throughout the throne room when the princess finally pushed herself up, her laughter long since spent.

Her cold eyes feel upon the still form of her father once again.

Azula brushed her toes contemplatively along the edge of despair, testing the ground there—But instead she turned away.

Father had taught her to suppress unpleasant emotions. To ignore grief. To regret nothing. He had taught her to be stronger than her feelings and to find advantage in all things.

So she stood and walked until the tips of her upturned boots nearly touched her father's corpse. She looked down upon him passively.

Was this how Father had felt when his own father had passed? When Grandfather Azulon had suddenly died in his sleep?

Azula huffed derisively. She was far too clever to ever have believed that.

Had Grandfather Azulon trust Father as Father has trusted her? Azula regarded the knife in her father's back.

Trust was for fools.

Azula stooped and pulled the crown from Ozai's topknot, polishing it with her fingers as she turned her back upon him and walked calmly up the steps of the burning throne. Blue flames burst into life in the tiered platforms as she passed, the eternal flame igniting once again.

The flames warmed her as Azula stood before the throne.

"It's a good thing this chair is so big!" Ty Lee exclaimed. "There's room for you even with this pillar in the way."

Azula rolled her eyes but nonetheless turned and seated herself on the half of the throne that had not been crushed by the broken column during the fight.

"Guards!" she called loudly.

They surged into the room, as if her word alone had broken a dam holding them back. She knew they must have heard the commotion, and agonized whether to obey their Firelord or to enter and help. Now as they came in their eyes opened wide, taking in the destruction.

…And the body of her dead father.

But Azula was glad they hadn't intruded. Now history could be written as she wished.

"The Avatar has murdered my father," she said, placing the gleaming crown upon her own head. "Now I am the Firelord."

Ty Lee clapped. Mai sighed. And her mother wiped tears of joy from her eyes.

….

The first surge into the sky on the back of Aang's sky bison had Katara flattening onto her stomach on Appa's back, gripping hard with her elbows, fists and knees, a brand new plunging sensation in her stomach causing her to gasp. She'd seen streaks of fire shoot by them on either side, and even a lurch and bellow from Appa—indicating a hit—but they'd ascended rapidly, until they soared high and out of range.

But Appa's flight had been unsteady, and Aang had landed him on one of the many peaks of the caldera that reached like cold volcanic claws cradling the city.

"Are you okay, Boy?" Aang had asked in concern as he quickly dismounted—Katara right behind him—and checked Appa all over. "I know you took a hit back there!"

Appa bellowed and shook his great body as if in offense.

"No, I don't mean that, Buddy! You did great—amazing even!" Aang smiled proudly at his friend. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Katara watched as Aang nuzzled his head into Appa's forehead, rubbing his arms through his furry brown arrow. With his eyes closed, Aang spoke softer to his bison. "We can't rest long. I know it's hard to fly, Appa. But I'll help you…"

Wanting to give them a moment, Katara stepped around Appa's body to stand at the cliff's edge and look out at the city below them. They weren't "safe" yet, but seeing the palace—her prison—so small beneath them now broke open a dam of relief within her.

A warm hand slipped into hers, and she smiled gently at Aang as he stepped up beside her.

There was so much to say, but right now words felt inadequate. So Katara simply turned toward him, pulling him to her with a soft hand at the nape of his neck. Aang rested his forehead on hers, his eyes closing as he inhaled a relieved, shuddering breath. He seemed to glean strength from her, breathing in her presence as though he'd been drowning and she was air itself.

Fighting tears, she drew him closer still, twining her hand under his arm, holding onto the back of his shoulder to avoid touching his back. Aang dropped his face to the crook of her neck, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as though to prove to himself that she was—really and truly—there.

In that moment, all that needed to be said was in that hug.

I'm here. I've got you…

We're free.

….