I apologize for the lack of posting. Finals got me hard, my little sister graduated high school, I had to move out of my house, and there's aaaaalways interesting problems with the fambam. So, again, I'm sorry! I made you wait a long ass time, but here's and new chapter and I'm getting a head start on the next one. Hopefully I'll get that one up soon as a way to say thanks for waiting :)

Chapter 3: The Pond of the Turtle-Ducks

You don't look half bad, you know…

She squinted at herself in the mirror, turning her backside towards it to admire the detailing of the back of the dress she had just put on. It was beautiful and perhaps were this another time, she would have felt like a princess of the North but on this day, she suddenly hated the over-bearing detailing of the pretentious robes. She frowned as she stilled, watching herself think.

You've got to be joking. You look like a trophy wife who has passed her prime.

They were harsh, the words her mind was offering her - but it didn't mean they weren't true. In reality, she had not slept in the four days since she opened her eyes to strange hands pinning her down in the Spirit World. She couldn't sleep, no matter how hard she tried. Sea prunes, it was annoying, but her body remained steadfast in its decision to not listen to her. And so her eyes appeared dark and sunken in with bags under them and her cheeks looked sickly thin; she didn't bother with the makeup one of the chief's servants had tried to offer her earlier that morning. Anyway, it was offensive being offered it – I know I look ghastly, I don't need you to notice it, too – and so she had slammed the door closed in the girl's face and tried to fall asleep for hours after that.

At the very least, I can dress nice. Can't I?

Well, she certainly thought she could but looking at herself now, she was overcome by a desire to smash the looking glass, but she forced herself to remember they had already switched out the mirror the other day when she had cracked it with her brush.

It's not the mirror's fault, Katara.

It wasn't hers either, though, right?

Her fingers twisted in her hair as she pulled it back into a braid, the beaded loops softly swinging against her cheeks as she worked. When she had finished, scowling that her arms were already so tired, she surveyed herself, turning her head to see all the angles. She huffed in annoyance, ripping the end of the braid free. I look twelve with my hair up.

She froze, letting her hands drop from her head. That was just it, wasn't it?

She wasn't twelve anymore, she wasn't three-and-ten. She wasn't even five or six-and-ten, experiencing love and her changing body for the first time. No, she had missed out on all of that. It only made sense she could not wear her hair the way in which she used to, the way she loved to – she was not a girl anymore. She was…eight-and-ten. So old. She had passed the traditional marrying age. She had nearly passed the traditional child-bearing age!

Don't be so dramatic.

She rolled her eyes at herself, combing her fingers through her hair as she let it fall freely down past her waist. She had told Gran-Gran she wanted to cut it, but the crazy old woman near throttled her at the mention of it.

"Your hair is far more beautiful than mine ever was! To have such length and shine… You have good judgment, granddaughter, but you must have knocked your head penguin sledding to think you could ever cut it," she had said sternly, her hands on her hips. Katara had smiled, shaking her head at her grandmother as she enveloped her in a warm hug. It was strange, but Katara felt as though she had to lean over more to hug Gran-Gran than she used to.

I knew she was old… But is she really that small now?

But she was an idiot. She had merely grown taller. She frowned again.

Losing all of your memories and waking up from a coma years after your last thought is not all it's cracked up to be.

Ignoring her darkly humorous thoughts, she pulled her shoulders back. It was time she backed away from the mirror. She looked ill and pale and thin and weak, but it was not her fault. It would be her fault if she stayed that way and… perhaps, initially, she was going to. But…

Sokka.

No one would mention him. He had not returned. Gran-Gran changed the subject to her father's upcoming arrival the moment Katara mentioned her brother. She was hastily told about the arrival of some warriors that lived off the southern coast of the Earth Kingdom – they were distinguished, highly respected guests in the north and the leader was very good friends with the Avatar. She was given the make-up then (which, in hindsight, made sense for such an important occasion) and then the dress. She was suspicious and she was scared and anxious, but mostly she was frustrated.

Where was he? He should have been the first person she opened her eyes to. He was sexist and he was a pig, but he was protective as well and so he should have been there!

But he wasn't. And if he were indeed hunting, it was a long trip.

Five years.

Lady Mai looked out towards the courtyard, leaning against the wall of her office. She sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around her. It was slightly chilly in the very early morning, though they were in summer's peak. It often rained during the warmest months and she admired that, but on this morning the sky was clear and the world was still as pale rays of sunlight began to awaken. She heard quacking and tilted her head, her eyes flitting to the fountain. The pond appeared empty for just a moment before a fuzzy duckling's head popped out of the water, its turtle shell breaching the surface as it turned over. Its brothers and sisters followed suit before the mother appeared from the shadows cast by the tree looming over the water.

Five years ago today.

Her heart felt heavy – heavier than normal. Most of the time, she was just being an apathetic, Agni-may-care brat and she knew that. But today…Today she had a reason. Even the palace seemed quiet. Granted, the sun had not yet fully risen but by this time there were always swarms of servants and cooks and guards already preparing for the day. Everyone was on edge. Everything was still and even the sun was afraid to show itself.

Five years ago today our nation changed.

And…Lord Ozai.

Ozai.

She could still see him now with his straight ebony hair, his pointed beard and his malicious golden eyes beneath thick brows. She had only seen him smile a handful of times – and each time, it was when he was watching Azula perform her bending, but even then, his smile was frightening and unforgiving and hard. Mai never liked his eyes; they were yellow with craze like…

Like Azula's were, towards the end of it all?

She shook her head, scowling to herself. There was no point in dwelling on the past, though she could not stop images of Azula's butchered hair from appearing in her mind.

At any rate, Lord Ozai's eyes were sickly and yellow – nothing like the gold of her fiancé's.

Can you not say his name, Mai?

Well, sure… She could. She could say it. She had dreamt of being able to say it again, the way she did on Ember Island. She could feel her cheeks heat up at the memory. She was five-and-ten then and she cared for nothing – there was nothing to care about. Except, of course, her hot-headed firebending lover. Well, as fate would have it, he was her lover once again, but it did not feel the same. He liked her during those young years. Their fights had passion then, or so she thought they did. His lips were warm and soft and laden with something unstable but sweetly so. She had loved that, she had always loved that. She still did, but it was something she had not experienced again. Those kisses were in the past and so was her heart – so was his.

Mai sighed, leaning her head against the wall as she watched the turtle-ducks.

He always loved the turtle-ducks.

Of course, though, he would never admit it. She allowed herself one soft smile before shaking her head and turning away from the window to sit at her desk. There were papers everywhere – some still unrolled as she had not yet had the time to read them. Documents, letters, agreements, treaties, requests, invitations… It was all too much at times, but…

She would be the Fire Lady. She would have all the power her father so foolishly lost and she would have more of it.

Sometimes that thought hit her like that Beifong girl's earth wall and she would become frightened and short of breath. If her father knew she was questioning her abilities he would surely knock those thoughts from her head. He would tell her she did not spend years at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls just to be a weak, faithless girl. She was a woman and she was a powerful one and it was true. She watched her father's mistakes; she learned what not to do and so she did not even cry when he was jailed for his treachery. The Firelord had been gracious enough to pardon him after two years and, in that moment, she knew she loved him again for he would be nothing like his tyrant father.

And in all of her mind's scenarios for what is waiting for her as the Fire Lady, her fiancée loves her.

It was a petty and childish idea for love, but Mai wanted it badly. Her face spoke of distaste and apathy and boredom but on the inside, her heart was lively and shy whenever she was around the Firelord. Sometimes it frustrated her – she had already had him years ago, so why was she shy now? At any rate, he didn't seem to notice, but he never cared to notice anything at all. He had grudgingly, at the meddling of the nobles, asked for her hand three years ago and had spent each following day devising reasons to put the wedding off. She was not getting any younger – what if I've reached my peak? – and she refused to be an old hag of a bride. She hated weddings – they were loud and crowded and long, but she could bear with it if it meant marrying the handsome, honor-obsessed lord while she was young and beautiful. It would surely be a story to boast of when I lay dying. It would be something Azula could never beat me at.

But…none of that was happening. He was more distant than she ever was to anyone and he never spoke, nor rarely showed himself outside of his throne room and chambers. His office remained closed to anyone aside from his uncle and even the general received limited meetings. For a while after his coronation, he seemed better. Mai had seen him nearly every day and, while he still did not smile often, she could see his eyes were more relaxed and no longer rimmed with red. He began sleeping again, he did not seem resentful of her company and it was not long before he asked for her hand in marriage in the throne room.

Part of her had always imagined it happening in front of the turtle-ducks, his smile causing his scar to wrinkle, but instead he knelt in front of a wall of fire with a hard expression.

And will your eyes match your father's one day?

After her acceptance, she rarely saw him but twice a week. Even then, it was flitting and he was gone before she could ask him if he required any services to lessen his work.

What have I done wrong? You loved me once. I know you did.

But one day, she found the answer. She had taken her lunch outside on the patio to the gardens for she was in a strangely wistful mood that was very much unlike her usual self. There was splashing, gentle and soft, and she peered around the corner, her eyes focusing on a dark-haired man sitting on the edge of a fountain. She felt the heat rise to her face as her heart began racing. She watched him lean down and throw a small piece of the bread roll he held into the water. The turtle-ducklings quacked happily, dipping their faces down into the water.

You look…happy, Firelord. Maybe one day…

I can make you look like that, too.

One of the ducklings lifted its head out of the water suddenly, sending streams of water into the air. The Fire Lord pulled back slightly and she watched his lips curl into a smile as he trailed his fingers across the pond's surface, his face distant as he touched the water.

His eyes were…so golden, she remembered, so golden and sad and they began closing.

It hurt to watch. How had she not seen it?

She never thought much of the avatar's companions. She never cared to learn their names and even now, their faces were blurred in her mind. But there was one person she distinctly remembered, someone she could not believe she had already forgotten.

The waterbender.

That time she saw the Firelord at the pond, his eyes glazing over as he watched the ripples in the water, she knew. She knew it all. That girl was dead, wasn't she?

She remembered, after the last battle, being released from the prison at his command. Ozai was dead. Azula was gone… The Fire Nation was falling to pieces and still the scarred son rose to the throne, but there was only a handful of blue robes at his coronation. There was red, green, yellow… The nations were there, each offering thousands of their citizens in celebration The Avatar, the blind girl, the Kyoshi Warriors… They were all there. But what about that waterbender and her food-obsessed brother? There were only some warriors from the Northern Water Tribe, and that was all. The coronation marked the new era for the Fire Nation, but the Firelord did not smile.

It was as though Mai did not exist. Her congratulations towards him went unnoticed. She could feel something was wrong – this was a day for celebration, but the unease, the regret, the sadness overpowered any thoughts of hope! Even the Avatar's gray eyes were empty.

It was only when she found the Firelord bending past midnight that night, his rage turning his flames blue (which she was proud of, for she knew he always struggled with his bending) that she realized the cause of his pain. She watched, silent and breathless, as he screamed out a woman's name and fell to his knees, his head dropping back and he cried.

Five years ago….Five years and Ozai was gone, the nation was rebuilding and the new Firelord brought peace and fire together.

She had not seen him in days, but she knew why.

Five years ago on this day, that girl died and the Firelord changed.

Katara died and he broke apart beneath the moon to which she belonged.

His eyes narrowed slightly at the wicks in front of him, flames bursting to life, dotting the thin white candles. He bowed his head, the warmth of fire tickling his face. His thumb ran over a cool blue stone on the altar, the etches on the surface tickling his skin. He picked it up gingerly, the blue silk to which it was attached flowing over his hand. It felt cool to the touch, reminding him greatly of water.

His chest felt heavy.

He closed his eyes, fighting to keep his mind still, but the moment darkness stared back at him, he could see…ripples, streams, gentle laps of water, twisting and curling and pulsating beneath a shimmering moon.

Yue, help me.

He cradled his head in his hands, his fingers grasping at his hair. His throat tightened almost painfully.

It's just not fair!

He wanted to scream. He wanted to rip the curtains and tapestries from the wall until the room was barren and destroyed. He wanted to run, to disappear from the palace that felt more like a prison. He would, in fact, rather be at the Boiling Rock than where he was now.

But most of all, he wanted to forget.

He could not stand seeing the blue eyes that plagued his dreams. He wondered what his uncle would do, were he in his position.

And had it really been that many years already? It was…funny, how long he had spent groveling to her. She despised him for almost a year – with good reason he supposed – but when he had decided to abandon his lineage and commit treason for the Avatar, she made him try and try and try up until the end, when she finally forgave him. She was always remarkable like that – stubborn, too, which drove him mad constantly. But that was what it took to be wanted by her, to be her friend, and… And it took so long. But he finally, finally proved himself to her and then…Then…

Lightning.

In one moment, it was all gone.

He felt almost guilty that he no longer felt able to cry. It was as if he owed her at least that much. He owed it to her brother, too. Children of the Water Tribe… could he not spare tears, when she moved oceans to save him and her brother merged Fire Nation sword-wielding with the traditions of his own people? Could he not honor them? He couldn't…He couldn't even save her, like she did him. He couldn't even smile with their memories, when her brother fought to keep them in high spirits…always. He let them down.

He had tried to shut it out for so many years; most days, he could be numb. But on this day…

It still hurt, hurt so badly.

His hand gripped the necklace tighter as he brought it to his face.

Bring them back, Yue.

Yellow eyes appeared beneath crudely cut bangs, shimmering and twitching with malice. It made her shudder, the look those eyes gave her…

Azula always lies.

Don't look at the eyes!

But she couldn't help it, she could not, and her own gaze flitted up to the savage face looming over her. Where was she now? Where was Hei Bai?

But… No. She wasn't in the Spirit World anymore. She had come back, Aang had brought her back to worried faces of the North where she could finally make her voice heard again. She was…safe.

Did Hei Bai miss her?

Could he still feel her presence in the gentle ponds or was she completely gone from that world, a mere mortal already forgotten?

She was lying on the ground. Her eyes were frozen, transfixed on the girl looming over her. Her haircut was terrible, but now was not the time for a joke. But, what time was it? Where was she?

She turned her head, looking around her.

A courtyard. There was smoke on the pillars surrounding the great area, showing signs of a struggle involving fire. A tapestry on the far side of the yard, hanging limply from the wall was tattered and burnt, but she could vaguely see the signia of a flame embroidered onto the thick fabric.

Fire Nation.

She was in the Fire Nation…but why?

I never meant to leave my home!

"You lost, you know."

Her head snapped forwards again. The girl standing over her leaned down, bringing her face close to Katara's. Her heart began beating wildly but she fought to keep her breaths even, if only to feign strength.

"The Agni Kai," the girl continued. "You lost."

Katara began shaking her head, but she felt rooted, frozen upon the ground. Her body was not listening to her!

"My poor brother Zuzu lost once, too, just like you. He got off easier, though… He left with only a scar and exile." She stood up, hands on her hips, smirking at the waterbender on the ground. "You didn't get so lucky."

Katara swallowed painfully, her fingers twitching at her sides. Maybe… Maybe if there was water…

The girl's foot slammed down on her arm, preventing her from moving. Katara gasped, squirming frantically.

"You are so weak!" the girl cried, cackling loudly. "I wouldn't even have called that a real Agni Kai. You might as well have just given up."

Katara's eyes narrowed angrily, her lips twisting into a snarl.

"But you always lie, don't you?" the waterbender growled. "So it must have been some fight."

A voice.

It was… It was hers.

My voice?

She could speak, she could hear herself speaking, she…

Please, gods, don't let this be a lie!

But it was not a lie, for the girl recoiled for a moment before her face settled back into its horribly sadistic smirk.

"Well," she drawled, leaning back down again, "here I was worried you had forgotten all about me. I heard dying does that to people. I guess I was wrong."

Katara huffed, fighting to turn her head away from the girl's gaze as she whispered, "Where is my brother…Azula?"

Azula whirled around, walking away for a moment, her hands clasped behind her back. She did a small circle in the courtyard and Katara grimaced as her chest began to feel hot.

"Does it hurt?" Azula sneered.

It… It did hurt. It hurt so badly. Her skin was itching, blistering, smoking as her dress began burning away. Katara wanted to scream, she wanted to scream so badly and she could now, but she could not give her the satisfaction! No, she could not be weak. She had lost…She had lost the Agni Kai, Azula said so!

But Azula always lies.

And what if, this time, she didn't?

Azula stopped in front of her once more, this time squatting down. Her fingers pried away at the fabric on Katara's chest, revealing an angry, blistering hole where her heart should be. Azula grabbed Katara's hair, yanking her forward off the ground until their foreheads touched.

Don't be scared. Don't be weak. Don't…

"You lost, water peasant," Azula chirped. Her eyes were yellow, so yellow it was inhumane. "I beat you. I killed you. My idiot brother was beside himself, for I, the true Firelord made him watch while you burned away! I killed you! And now… I will gladly do it again."

And then blue surrounded her, but not the blue she loved. No, this was not water, this was electricity, winding like snakes through the air as Azula brought her hand to Katara's chest – the way in which Katara had, in her past vision, touched the scarred man – and the hole burned bigger as the lightning entered her chest, unforgiving, blistering, and sharp, so sharp she couldn't breathe and the pain…the pain, it hurt so badly she almost couldn't feel it. Her mind was swirling, Azula's voice becoming more and more distant as her laughter echoed in the courtyard as she screeched, "Zuzu! My favorite family member… Was once not enough? Have you returned to watch the show again?" Katara's eyes flew open one last time and the scarred man was suddenly there, sinking to his knees, his hand reaching out for her. He was holding his chest – he has…the same scar as me? – as he tried to crawl forward, but he shuddered before dropping to the ground, still.

There was screaming then as the lightning filled her mouth. It was piercing and hair-raising and Katara cried, writhing on the ground as she fought to close her ears to the sounds of this scream – gods, make that sound go away! – but when she opened her eyes to the final surge of light, she was looking down at herself on the ground and realized the wails were coming from her own mouth.

She bolted upright, her chest heaving with sobs as her body shuddered violently, her hands painfully grasping at her sheets. Sweat dripped from her chin – maybe they're tears? – as she threw the blankets from her body, unable to stand the hot itchiness on her legs and arms. There were hands holding her – not this again…not this! Let me go! – but they were warm and calloused and they shook her gently. There was a man saying, "Katara… Katara!" and she opened her eyes, her vision blurred as she looked up at a dark-haired, tan-skinned man with striking blue eyes. They were… So familiar.

"Sokka…" she breathed, tears of joy overpowering the tears of fear in her eyes, but the man was shaking his head softly, still muttering her name, over and over again. He makes my name sound…nice. Her eyes adjusted. It was dimly lit in her room; the other candles had burned their way down save for one and still it feebly tried to light her chambers. She quit struggling, letting her eyes focus in on the face in front of her. The hair was dark, yes, but there were streaks of gray in it. It was not shaved on the sides and pulled back into a warrior's tail like her brother's, no, it was pulled halfway back into a bun with a familiar dreaded lock of hair swinging against his cheek. His skin was weathered and worn, but his eyes remained prominently sparkling. Katara shuddered, throwing herself forward with child-like sobs, her tears dampening the wool of his Water Tribe tunic.

"Dad," she cried, "Dad… Dad…"

His arms wound around her, squeezing her so tightly she could not breathe, but even if she could, she would not have for these arms, these strong, warm arms were holding her and he was so comfortable, so familiar, and she trembled, breathing in the scent of her father. He was stroking her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp and she released all tension in her body, sinking against him as her heart fluttered wildly. She feared it would burst from joy and relief but, if anything, it would not be a bad way to die.

"What's happening to me?" she whispered, clinging to him. He pulled back, holding her out at arm's length as he smiled, his hand cupping her face and wiping her tears from her cheeks.

"You are plagued with terrors," he replied softly, "but they are only of the mind. You are stronger than them – that, you should always be certain of. More importantly…" He beamed, hugging her once more. "You are safe. My daughter… I knew you were too stubborn to let Azula defeat you."

Black hair; crudely-cut bangs. Yellow eyes. So…lupine.

Lightning.

Katara gasped, yanking back from her father.

"Azula always lies!" she cried before cradling her head in her hands. Her temples were throbbing painfully as she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images to pass. They are of the mind! They are of the mind. I am… stronger than them.

"She does always lie, Katara," Hakoda insisted, "but you are with me. You are safe. No one can hurt you now."

She sniffled, reaching out for her father's hand.

"I want you to tell me what happened to me…on that day. Please, dad. I need to know. I can't stand these images in my mind. I'm unable to understand them or control them, so maybe… Maybe if I knew everything, I would be okay." She looked up at him, her eyelashes heavy from tears and he stroked her cheek again.

"Of course," he murmured. "I understand that you have met the Avatar. I'm sure he has already told you many wild things of your past with him – all fun things, no doubt. But do not shun him or turn him away; he speaks truth. You and Sokka traveled with Aang for a year, helping him gain strength to fight Firelord Ozai."

"Firelord… Ozai. The Hundred Year War?"

Hakoda nodded, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Yes. You ended it, Katara. You saved us all." His face crumpled into a teary smile. "Your mother would be so proud."

"It is hard to believe," she replied heavily, "that I…left home and Gran-Gran. I left everyone to be with a kid and…somehow, we did all of those things you said we did. The last memory I have is arguing with Sokka in our canoe." Her voice dropped to a thin whisper. "I was only three-and-ten then."

"While Aang was facing his destiny against Ozai as the Avatar, you fought alongside the Firelord's banished son. You fought his sister, Azula. I can see you have seen her in your night terrors and visions. The trauma of that experience did not leave you alongside with your memories."

"Did she really beat me?"

Hakoda looked at her for a moment, shifting on the bed before his gaze dropped to his hands holding hers. "It appeared that way," he said, his thumb tracing circles over her skin. "We thought we lost you. Aang brought you back to the North; you were in a deep coma – one we thought you would not awaken from, but Aang abandoned all uncertainty. He traveled into the Spirit World near every day and remained there for hours, just looking for you."

"Hei Bai was looking after me," Katara replied quietly. "I was alright, at least in spirit."

Hakoda smiled, tilting his head. "Aang reached out to him, pleading with him to take care of you."

"He…did?"

"He wanted you to be safe. Spirits do not usually provide aid for mortals, but Hei Bai remembered you. You and Aang helped return him to his true form and wash his anger away. He felt indebted to repay the Avatar, and so he agreed to act as your guardian until you could be found."

"Why couldn't Hei Bai just tell Aang where I was, if it were that important?"

"Even spirits don't know everything, Katara. It took Hei Bai a while to locate you, as well. When he did… He knew it was not his purpose to give you back. Aang needed to find you on his own. It was a test to his endurance and strength as the Avatar but, more importantly, as a spirit. His heart guided him and," he laughed here, "though you were quite elusive, he never gave up. That was what the spirits wanted to see."

"I see." Katara fidgeted, her fingers brushing over the burn on her chest. "So Azula gave me this?"

"She was a prodigy. She has never played fair. In an unguarded moment, she struck you." She could hear sadness in her father's voice and it pained her greatly, but she struggled to keep her face straight though her heart began beating wildly as visions of her night terrors began piecing themselves together. "Azula wanted nothing more than to win, no matter the cost; no matter who she destroyed in her plight. Her older brother brought you back to us. To see you…so limp in his arms…" Hakoda lurched forward, pulling Katara into his arms again. "I thought I would never see you again."

Tears welled up in her eyes as her grip tightened around him. She buried her face into his neck, wetting his skin with her tears but he did not pull back; if anything, her hair felt damp from him, too.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"Don't, Katara. Don't feel guilty. It has been your weakness and your greatest strength – to care. So don't apologize. Don't feel as though you owe us something in return. We only wanted you back. I would have waited a lifetime just to have you again."

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too."

She pulled back, sniffling. "But what about Sokka?"

Hakoda's face hardened, but she could see a flicker of…something in his eyes. What was it? Everyone she asked about her brother had the same strange look when she spoke of him. It frustrated her, but now…Now she was getting angry. Her eyebrows knitted together as her eyes narrowed. She stiffened, her gaze never lifting from her father's. If I could read your mind, would I want to?

"He's not here," Hakoda said.

"Where is he?"

"You will know, but do not worry," he said hastily. "He is happy."

Katara let out the breath she had been holding in. So, that's it? He left, after the war? What a jerk… He could have at least stayed until I woke up! Why was that so hard for anyone to tell me? Did they fear I would spiral into a depression without him? If he wanted to leave, I'm glad he left. I want him to be happy. Jeez, that idiot.

Hakoda stood, holding up the dress Katara had hastily thrown off earlier after insulting her mirror image. He laughed, but it seemed more strained and force than before, but Katara shook the thought from her mind. I'm reading too much into things.

"I must admit, it isn't a dress I could really have ever imagined you in, but it is pretty." Katara rolled her eyes, snatching it from his hands.

"Thanks, I guess, though I'm not too fond of it either." She fingered the cool fabric, her eyes following the intricate embroidery.

"Aang picked it out, believe it or not." Hakoda folded his arms, his mouth hardening into a line. "Though I'm starting to wonder just how revealing it is when you put it on."

Katara scoffed, her lips pulling up at the corners into a smirk. "Please, Dad. Have you seen him? He's still such a child. I don't think he could have ulterior motives about me even if he wanted to."

Hakoda grunted, waving his hand. "Well, no matter. I will leave you to your changing."

"What's going on tonight, anyway?"

He paused at the doorway, looking back with a smile. "It's the five year anniversary of the Hundred Year War, though we have added a little celebration for your return to the festivities. The Firelord isn't able to make it and is not yet aware of your awakening, but the Kyoshi Warriors should be arriving in a couple hours. One of them is eager to see you – as well as a stubborn earthbender you used to butt heads with constantly. Don't fret if you cannot remember them, we have already explained the situation. They just wanted to see you and to celebrate. You were all very good friends, but you will figure that out soon enough."

Katara looked at the dress in her hands. "We were all….friends…"

"You should wear your hair down," Hakoda said suddenly. "It reminds me of your mother."

Katara looked up, her mouth parting in a small "o", but he was gone.

Alright, mirror. Moment of truth.

She eyed the makeup on the vanity with uncertainty and sighed.

All this pressure now that I know people are coming just to see me…

Thanks, Dad.