****PLEASE NOTE - THIS IS IMPORTANT****

I have edited Chapters 7 and 8 due to the mass of PMs I received regarding Katara's character development. Feel free to go back and read those again if you like. Please be constructive when sending me reviews. Some of the messages I read were a bit more attacking than I would have liked. I understand Katara was too OOC. I have fixed it. But I would like to remind you, this is just a fanfiction and I am a human being (and a sensitive writer, at that). Please be nice. I will gladly attempt to the make the story better through revisions, but if I start feeling attacked again, it may affect me writing this at all. I know I'm being butthurt and sensitive. But writing means a lot to me. So just be kind, I will be kind, and the story will continue on.

I take your criticism to heart. I enjoy reading all of your personal takes on the chapters and how everyone reads it differently.

I would also like to note...Some of you were disappointed in Zuko and Katara's meeting. Many of you were very excited for them to see each other again, especially with how I had built up Zuko's emotions concerning her absence. However, please remember - their meeting was supposed to take place at the North Pole. It was supposed to be a positive reunion (at least on Zuko's part) but previously Mai, who had received the letter of Katara's awakening, burned it. Her and Iroh's attempts to tell Zuko of what they did didn't go as planned. Each character has their own motive, as is with any piece of literature - remember this with Mai as we see her development through the story. Zuko and Katara's less-than-friendly understanding of one another is just as shocking to them as it is for us - but things are not set in stone yet! We still have so much to see, so much development to experience! I hope I do not disappoint.

As always, thank you so much for reading.

Chapter 9: The Imperial Missive

Morning had come, greeting the still waters with oranges and pinks that filtered through the heavens and into the sky like strokes of a paintbrush. It was calm, the breeze warm – starkly unlike the crisp morns in the North – and Katara breathed deeply, her fingers already touching her barren neck for what seemed the dozenth time. It bothered her, the absence of her mother's necklace but there was naught she could do. It was up to the spirits if she could redeem herself enough for it to come back to her.

And all of her sins, all of her wrongdoings were scattered on the deck behind her. Blood had stained the metal floors of the ship, dry and caked, and bodies littered the area, still and stiff, eyes open and upturned towards the morning sky they could not truly see anymore. She had gotten sick many times since the hours before when she…

Yes, she killed them.

She had rushed to the railings, her sickness spewing from her mouth into the ocean far below. She felt more than just sick – she felt dead, just like them. The realization of what she had done engulfed her, washing over her like a deluge of unforgiving sin and boastfully dismal victory. Is this who she was? Those years she didn't remember, the thoughts that Azula put into her head, the visions, the dreams… What was real? Who was she?

Motherly Katara, Just Katara, Patron-of-the-People Katara… These titles, these names, these praises, all whispered to her during the anniversary celebration in the North, but could she believe any of them? Did they even know her at all, or did they take advantage of her blank memory in attempt to convince her of who she ought to be?

But she could not lie – she had never expected to kill.

It was though…once she saw the first one go down, it was easier to make the others follow suit.

This is all for Sokka. This is all for Azula.

At least that was what she was wont to tell herself, for how could she face her victory with grace when the face of so many men stared at her, unblinking and immobile? They had families, no doubt, they had sisters and mothers and sons and wives and they would never go home. They could never go home again.

But this is my justice to you.

I was robbed of the chance to go home, too.

Earlier that morning when the sun had still not yet risen and the body of the ship's captain was still warm at her feet, she had bent that soldier's blood, pulling him – and that scar – closer to her so she could bind his hands behind his back with the ropes they had so desperately used to capture her. They failed, however, and those who fail never live long enough to tell the story of why they didn't win but something stopped her from killing him. She felt the need to, but that scar, that gods-awful scar that haunted her dreams was staring her in the face and she knew, oh yes she knew that it was him, the brother Suki had told her about. It was Azula's brother, the bastard, and so she did not kill him but rather dragged him down to the cells below decks. She thought he would have put up a fight but he seemed dazed, he seemed confused and out of sorts with the way he just kept staring at her and then looking away as though he instantly regretted it.

She had thrown him inside the cell and he stumbled to the wall, hitting it hard before turning to look at her one last time and…his eyes were so golden in that moment, golden and conflicted, and they began closing.

He was the only survivor on the ship, that she made sure of as she sprinted down every hallway, down every deck and into every room of the ship, ripping open the doors or simply using waves of water to crush the metal down but something was wrong! Something was so wrong and her chest started tightening, keeping air from leaving or entering her lungs and she clutched her throat as she ran, willing the pain of her fears to pass quickly.

Azula.

She wasn't there, she wasn't there, she was supposed to be there! The dreams, the visions, the pictures in her mind she believed the spirits gave her – they were all wrong.

I have been forsaken.

I have been deceived.

They lied to me!

And so she kept running, checking every room, every storage cell, ripping down tapestries and throwing inkwells and bottles against the wall on which they shattered violently in her rage. She spent near an hour bending icicles and shooting them into the wall with speed and strength until there were almost a hundred of them sticking out of the metal, but this did not quell her anger nor her frustration. She had been betrayed.

Azula was not there. The Fire Lord was not there.

All this time, all of this tracking, and for what purpose? To take a lowly brother as a hostage?

That was the first time she had run to the side of the ship, her sickness falling from her mouth. That was the first time she let angry, crazed tears drip down her chin as she destroyed whatever she could get her hands on. Her eyes were bloodshot, no doubt, but she didn't care; she grabbed at her hair, pulling on it painfully as she surveyed the deck filled with the bodies of soldiers but no sign of a Fire Lord.

But now it was morning. Hours had passed and, though she did not feel any better, she felt more in control of her thoughts. And that was she needed – she needed to think. She needed answers.

And as it happens, I've got a good source in my grasp.

She turned away from the sea, eyes narrowing as she strode across the deck, ripping open the door and descending the stairs towards the cells.

Zuko rubbed his eyes, groaning with the stiffness that had settled over his limbs in the hours since he had been holed up in the cell.

One of my own cells!

The irony was too much for him; he laughed at first, but that was before the cold set in and the thinking began. It was dark where he lay and so he did not know whether or not it was still night.

It had been five years; five years, and he didn't hear a word from her. Five years and he spent two of them in utter shock that she could not be with him. It was another year and a half before he finally felt numb to the realization she was dead.

And all this time…

He gritted his teeth as he pulled his knees up to his chest. Why had no one told him? Why had Aang, his closest friend and ally, never mentioned her survival? Did they think he was stupid? By their own right, Zuko hadn't ever exactly been a man of good first impressions, but he had always thought they became true friends. It hurt, definitely, but it didn't hurt as much as watching her in front of him, touching him so softly, so warmly – until she suddenly pulled out a dagger to…

Yes, to kill me.

And yet, she did kill his men! Without a second thought, without a second glance she bended their blood and murdered them. This was not the Katara he knew – this was not the same fierce, overprotective, stubborn waterbender he had come to call his friend. This was someone angry and violent and bitter and it scared him how these two people wore the same face.

What could have happened all those years ago to make you change this much?

He wanted her back. He wanted the familiar girl with the wide, determined blue eyes to come down the stairs and call out his name, to tell him it was all a mistake, and he would forgive her; he would believe her in an instant.

And her face – the face that came to him when he was sleeping, the face that haunted the ripples in pond water…when he saw her face, it was enough to break his chest.

She was beautiful, even more so than he remembered, but terribly so. The full lips, the dark skin shimmering with droplets of water, the waves of deep chestnut hair, the slender frame, the way her brow furled when she was frustrated… All of that, he remembered. All of that never left his mind in the past years, but it was the eyes – her eyes were so different than he remembered that he could not bring himself to believe it was truly her. Her passion, it was still there, but this passion was an angry one, a lethal one. It was a hunger that seemed insatiable, but the vulnerability, the fear that was hidden deep down… He saw that, too. If only for the briefest of moments, if only for the changing of the tides, he saw that, too.

He scrubbed his face with his hands, groaning into his palms. His head was pounding; it hurt terribly and his throat was parched and felt prickly. A small bowl of water near the cell's iron bars caught his attention.

Did I sleep?

He didn't remember her coming down to give him water. He must have slept, if only for a little while. He caught himself wondering if she watched him in his slumber, remembering things the way he remembered them.

His lips curled into a smirk at the sight of the bowl of water.

Would you have me lap at it like a dog?

He plunged his hand into the water, splashing his face and sighing with the refreshment. He drank greedily, each gulp deep and cold but it wasn't long before an uneasy feeling arose in his stomach followed by a strangely familiar bitter aftertaste. He grimaced, pushing the bowl away as he clutched at his belly, fighting the urge to retch. He pulled at his hair, grimacing as the cell and the ground around him swirled, the floor pushing and pulling and he felt sick, he felt so nauseous; his head was pounding as his vision blurred. He could feel himself falling forward, but he didn't notice until his cheek met the cold, hard ground and he was panting, he was gagging, he was pleading with his body to feel normal again.

Damn…

She poisoned him. Is that what this was? His water was laced, there was no doubt about it.

But with what?

He growled angrily, throwing his hand forward in a futile attempt to ignite flames against the iron bars of his cell but nothing came out, nothing protruded from his fingertips. Nothing happened.

Zuko closed his eyes, rolling onto his back.

She laced his water, yes, but with a special herb that suppressed bending. It was one of his uncle's teas – one she no doubt found in his chambers. He laughed a low, guttural sound to himself.

The irony is too much… Imprisoned in my own cell, poisoned with my own herbs…

You've gotten even smarter, Katara.

Should I hate you for it?

He thought he could never hate her. But what else was there when the bodies of his men plagued his own ship's decks? What else was there when there was nothing but his own sickness, rising up in his throat and preventing him from bending – the one thing that ever came naturally to him?

He cursed her – he prayed Agni, Yue, that the spirits of the Avatar would curse her-

Footsteps.

They were deft and quiet, but he could hear them anyway. Was it her?

His stomach was roiling with unease but he forced himself to sit up anyway, panting from the effort. His gaze swam unnaturally, dots of color blurring his vision and he squinted, trying to see into the darkness before him.

Is it still night?

The footsteps paused and Zuko began to wonder if she had changed her mind, but the sound echoed softly once more and within a matter of seconds he could see the faint outline of a dark figure as it crept towards him, her copper arm alight with the flame of a torch she was holding.

Then:

"Are you deciding to cooperate?"

Her voice was distant and that of a stranger – this voice was empty and cold and harsh. Zuko's jaw tightened. No, he did not like the sound of her voice now.

He ignored her question and instead responded with his own, though he already knew the answer: "Why can I not bend?" He could see her coming even closer until she was a mere few feet away from his cell, the flame of the torch throwing her shadow up against the metal wall.

"Would you rather be tied so tightly you cannot turn your head, let alone move your arms?" she retorted.

Zuko shrugged, letting his eyes close. I will beat you at your own game.

"I could still bend with my feet," he replied. He could almost feel her smirking when she spoke, "It was a tea leaf, infused in your water. It suppresses bending ability for twelve hours. Or, that's what the label on the jar read. I'm pleased to see it was an honest description. Your chambers were full of nifty toys like that, you know."

Zuko could feel the muscles in his jaw twitch.

Surely you already knew that, Katara?

"The chambers belonged to my Uncle before they belonged to me," Zuko grunted, pushing down on his knees as he struggled to stand. He didn't want her to see his limbs so shaky, but there was naught he could do about it except glare petulantly at the ground as he rose up to meet her. When they were face to face, he froze. Flamelight flickered against her copper skin, casting oranges on her face and darkening her shadows around her lips – those lips that used to call him a friend – but it was her eyes that startled him the most. They had never appeared so blue to him, so beautifully cerulean and filled with every tide, every wave the ocean has ever pulled and with the torch's light, there was fire in her eyes. There was fire in the sea and two clashed, they fought, they danced and so red and orange licked the blue of her irises but it was a violent fight and an angry one. Her brows drew sharply together as she glared at him, her eyes narrowing into slits.

Zuko grunted, letting his body's weight lean against the bars of the cell door. His face was hot and flustered from the intensity of her eyes but her livid gaze was enough to help him regain his senses and so he looked up at her through his bangs, forcing himself to remember all she had done in the past hours. He wanted to look past the familiar face, he had to. She was not the same.

You really did die after all.

"He will come for me, you know – my uncle," Zuko seethed, holding his stomach as sweat dripped from his hair into his eyes. "His determination is unmatched, but you already knew that…"

She looked confused. "Why would I know anything about your uncle?" She sighed, placing her hand on her hip. "I don't want money."

"Then what do you want? Kat-"

"The Fire Lord."

Zuko blinked, straightening up. His face was blank, he knew, but he also knew that his mind was even more so. He blinked again. The… Fire Lord?

The Fire Lord.

Things weren't adding up, not at all – her inability to recognize him as an old friend, her refusal to admit she ever knew Iroh, her violence, her lack of conscience, the way in which she so quickly killed people and… yes, it was as though she didn't remember him at all.

And it was him. He was the Fire Lord. Surely she knew that?

So this was how she would repay him, then. He, who tried so hard to save her and cherish her and protect her. He did all he could! He lived with his failure for years, he let his heart wither away inside of his chest until all that was left was the part of him that was the Fire Lord. This was her repayment – death and treason and revenge.

"Why are you doing this?" he shouted, pounding the iron bars with his hands. She flinched and her eyes narrowed and he knew she was focusing on his red scar, the wrinkles on his skin seemingly dancing in the flamelight. Her hair was wild and untamed from the rain and the fray, hanging in her face in messy strands that stuck to her skin. Those hair loopies that framed her face were the only piece of her that remained the same and for some reason, that made Zuko even angrier. He lurched forward, snarling as he reached through the bars, grabbing her by her tunic and yanking her forward. She dropped the torch and hit the metal hard, grunting from the impact as he leaned down towards her face, only iron separating them.

"Katara," he growled. "Stop acting like you don't know me!"

"I'm not pretending!" she fired back, squirming against his hold. "Just give me Azula, you bastard lord."

Zuko swayed from the nausea of grabbing her so roughly, but he struggled to keep his ground. He blinked slowly, trying to wrap his mind around her words.

"Azula?" he muttered absently. His grip on her softened, but she didn't try to pull away. She just stood there, still and rigid.

"Did you know I was coming?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet. Zuko's lips pursed into a line. Katara continued, "Is that why Azula isn't here? Because you knew I was coming for the Fire Lord?" She grabbed his wrists, pulling him forward sharply until he hit the bars, gasping from the impact. "Did you trick me?"

"You're crazy," Zuko breathed, his face no doubt laden with horror. What happened to you in all of those years I wasn't there?

Her face twisted, livid and dark. "I am not crazy!" she shouted, pulling water out of her waterskin and using it to slice him across the face. He let go of his hold on her, stumbling back and holding his cheek. Blood dripped slowly between his fingers, his skin stinging. He grimaced, his hand trembling as he dropped to one knee, his stomach roiling.

She squatted down, her gaze never leaving him. She reached through the bars, pushing the bowl of water towards him.

"Drink," she said with a coy smile. "You look parched."

He glared up at her between his fingers.

"You're not like I remember," he panted, rolling onto his back. His hair stuck to his pallid skin from his cold sweat. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm the nausea in his veins.

Katara rocked slowly back and forth on her heels before sitting back and pulling her knees up. Her eyes were flickering with something, but he didn't know what. She was silent for a long while and he wondered if she would ever speak at all. Then:

"Do you like games?"

He rolled onto his side, pushing himself up.

"You tell me. Why don't you-"

A loud clang echoed through the walls of the ship, the metal vibrating and drumming with a deep, gritty hum. Zuko's head snapped up, his eyes squinting at the ceiling. Katara scrambled to her feet in alarm, her hand slipping beneath her dress and pulling out a dagger so fast it was as though the blade just appeared in her hand. She looked at him like she was about to say something and Zuko rolled his eyes, snapping,

"Relax. It's not like I can go anywhere."

She stiffened, but with a "hmph" she turned and ascended the stairs, her hair trailing behind her.

The moment her figure disappeared around the stairwell, Zuko slumped back down to the floor. His breathing was labored and short and he scrubbed his face with his hands in frustration.

Nothing makes any sense.

Uncle, hurry.

The High Consult was muttering something under his breath bitterly, but to Mai his words were indiscernible and more or less a low hum. It annoyed her, at the very least, but she sat quietly, hands in her lap while he pored over parchments, maps, and letters. His fingers gripped the table so hard his knuckles were white, the veins in his hand blue and taught.

"How long does it take for an old general to reach a stationary ship?"

Mai sighed, draping her arms over the back of her chair.

"A few days, at least."

The consult – what was his name? Shaozu… Yes, Hou Shaozu, perfect for an aristocratic ass – smirked at her vainly as he retorted, "Ah, I was not aware women were so well informed on naval operations."

Mai bristled.

Agni forbid a woman understands the concept of distance.

She stood, her noble robes swishing angrily around her ankles.

"Careful, consult. Your ego is showing." She poured herself a glass of wine fermented near the orchards in Ba Sing Se. The Earth Kingdom never held much glamour for her, but she appreciated the beauty of the farmland there. Even more, she appreciated the effects of alcohol when dealing with a pompous man of the court.

"You can stare at a map as long as you want," she continued. "It does nothing to change time. The General will send his message when he sends it; you will gain nothing from glaring at pieces of paper all day." She sipped her wine slowly, her eyes never leaving his, which were shadowed some by the hood of his court robes.

"My thoughts exactly," he replied to Mai's surprise. "What we need is action. This pirate – perhaps assassin, even – has not only committed acts punishable by death, but challenged our entire nation. This pirate has challenged you and the whole ancestral line of Fire Lords."

"That's a bit of a stretch, wouldn't you think?" Mai glowered. In truth, she had no idea what Katara was planning – if she even had a plan. How many years does it take in the Spirit World before you lose your senses? She almost felt pity for the girl; Mai could not do it, she knew that much. She could not remain so still for so long and walk away the same person. But even so, action was a necessity.

"I do not believe it is a stretch at all," the Consult countered. "Is it a coincidence the North has sent us a petulant attempt at a martyr after the rebels became active in Yu Dao? Do you think there truly is no connection between the Avatar's sudden presence with the Earth King and this assassin that happened to take the royal barge outside of Yu Dao?" He sniffed, glaring down at the parchments once more.

Mai shifted. What the man said made sense, as much as she hated admitting it. No, Mai would not be the same person after so long in a comatose state – so neither would Katara. It was quite possible the waterbender was part of some bigger, unseen plot that went far beyond claiming control of a ship. That thought…It was greatly unnerving.

She swirled what was left of the wine around in her glass before raising it to her lips, her eyes never leaving the consult's. Is this a game, I wonder? Whoever blinks last has the final say with the pirate?

But nothing happened. No words were spoken. Mai poured herself another glass, conscious of the consult's judgmental gaze and finally, she let out a long, drawn-out sigh which sounded a bit more dramatic than intended.

"So," she drawled, letting herself sink back down into the plush chair at the parchment and map-littered table. "What do you propose we do?"

The High Consult clasped his hand behind his back, his thin mustache twitching.

"An act of war must be responded to with-"

"More violence?"

"Justice," he finished, glaring at her.

"My advice," he continued, "is to send a dozen ships to the Northern Water Tribe and seek out Chief Hakoda for questioning regarding the pirate and the Avatar's refusal to remain neutral. He must listen to reason – we will see to it that he does-"

"Yes, with more war."

The High Consult whirled around angrily, robes swishing. He pounded a fist down onto the table. "If it comes to war, then war we will face!" he spat. A lock of thinning dark hair broke free of its greasy hold and wiggled down in front of his forehead. "You women are not fit to rule – you lead with your hearts and with your emotions. If there is any wisdom I can offer you, let it be this: leave your feelings behind. Lead with justice and honor and logic. Lead with strength, without regrets, without pity."

"What you are suggesting, High Consult, goes far beyond justice," Mai said poisonously, rising slowly from her chair.

Try and at least hide your ego, old brat. You know nothing of diplomatic grace – you only know death.

The consult paused.

"Let me ask you this," he said finally: "How long have you been engaged to Fire Lord Zuko?"

Mai shifted at sheer mention of his name. What are you playing at? "That matter is of no concern to you."

Amber eyes narrowed, followed by Consult Shaozu's slithering voice that said, "Oh, I should think it does. In fact, it is of concern to the entirety of our nation, for who wants a Fire Lady that our Lord himself does not deem fit to wed? I see no heirs, Lady Mai. I see no permanent power in your grasp."

Mai bristled in fury. "And what, exactly, are you insinuating?" Her blood was boiling, so much so that, in that moment, she believed she could bend fire directly into his judgmental, infuriating face.

"I am stating only the facts," he replied coolly. You seem pleased at my anger, you half-wit ass of a consult. "Until you are wed, you are as replaceable as a lame horse."

Mai rushed past the table, her robes rippling violently against her outburst and she shouted – Agni, she hated shouting – "You know nothing! You are nothing but a glorified clerk-"

"As it may be, but I am a glorified clerk who has been here since before you were torn from your mother's wealthy teat."

Mai recoiled, her arm jutting out and knocking over the wine glass, which burst into shards of glass the moment it hit the floor, the wine spilling outwards and staining the crimson rugs with the red of blood.

"Upon my word, you can be tried for treason," she seethed, but her threat was futile, even she knew that.

"Treason?" the consult near laughed. "Treason for aiding the Fire Lord's bed maid with militant wisdom? I shall smile in court, if it be so. Tell me, my Lady, what would you have us do with the North?"

Mai willed her unbent fury to simmer for a moment so that, just perhaps, rational thought could enter her mind.

"Send an envoy – an ambassador. Speak with the Chief; do not threaten him so with an army at his gates. I would go myself-"

"And who would watch over the Fire Nation?" the consult asked, picking up the letter from Admiral Jun that spoke of the pirate's actions. "General Iroh is not yet to return for some weeks. The nation needs you here, if you are to secure any amount of power with your people. An ambassador can easily be ambushed by more pirates or rebels on the journey to the North. Water is dangerous – even more so when its tides have surrounded our fire."

The consult handed her the letter, as though prompting her to read it one more time, for maybe this time it would clear her mind of her weak thoughts.

My thoughts are not weak! I have seen the dictators, I have seen the Phoenix King, I have experienced all that was tainted in this nation. What will we be if I destroy everything the Fire Lord has worked for?

What will become of me?

His voice came again, but this time it was clearer, softer: "Send the ships, Lady Mai. If what we fear has come to pass, we have been abandoned by our Avatar. I fear the violence will not stop at Yu Dao. It will not stop at the pirating of our royal barge. Something much bigger is coming."

No, no… I cannot…I cannot think clearly!

Iroh, what would you have me do?

She could almost imagine him happily humming, eyes closing, as he recounts eras of peace and prosperity. He would then, of course, ask her what lessons she could take from the past – what was war, truly? What was peace?

It was all too confusing, all jumbled in her head – but this is my life now! This is the life I chose when I agreed to be wed to the Fire Lord.

A dozen ships… Far too many for friendly negotiation. Far too many. But Katara…she did not pause and think when she attacked our ships. She –

And then another thought, one far more unsettling than she thought possible: What if she did?

Mai was backed into a corner. There was no way out.

"How quickly we have sunken back into our old ways," Mai said, so quietly she did not if the consult heard her, but it did not matter either way. "The Fire Lord will-"

"I fear there may not be a Fire Lord left to speak of, my Lady."

Mai closed her eyes. If I do this… If I threaten the Northern Water Tribe with my own husband-to-be's troops… Am I better than Azula? Am I better than those we fought so hard to bring to justice?

Agni, when did I learn to care so much?

She sunk back down into the chair pitifully, holding her fingers to her temple. The consult came before her, holding out the letter that would send the Fire Nation's troops to Chief Hakoda.

"This is for the best," he spoke, not unkindly. "The North has betrayed us. We must save the man you love; we must save the future of even the poorest merchants. Send the ships. Secure our waters and fight the rising rebellion. There is only one other action that would prove worse than this – inaction."

Mai heart was trembling, trying to beat hard but failing miserably in her uncertain fear.

Let this be my act of love to you… Will you hate me for this?

Not anymore than you will for keeping Katara from you.

She felt like she was about to be sick. Her limbs were weary and weak, her temples throbbing painfully. And, at long last, after hours of dispute and futile attempts to convince High Consult Shaozu of any other option, she nodded.

The moment she did so, she felt the earth shift. She felt the winds change. She felt her life she wanted for so long to stay grounded, crumble beneath her feet.

He placed the parchment and a quill in front of her.

I am nothing but a puppet.

And she signed the imperial missive against the North.

A light chirp-like trill echoed above the Avatar's head.

Aang looked up, shielding his eyes from the golden sun of Ba Sing Se. The distinctive shadowed shape of Momo rose and fell in languid movements, his body spiraling gracefully through the air before the lemur came back down to rest on Aang's shoulder. Aang laughed, tossing up a small biscuit, which Momo caught greedily and nibbled on happily, cooing with comfort.

Aang scratched behind Momo's ears, smiling at how easy it was for the lemur to achieve joy.

I wish it was the same for me.

The Avatar sighed.

He had been in Ba Sing Se for nearly two months now, but it seemed as though his presence did nothing to change the rising tension between Yu Dao and the Earth Kingdom. Aang sat on an old fountain of stone, absently turning his staff over in his hands – doing anything, even if it were nothing, to keep himself busy.

Momo climbed down Aang's tunic, popping out of the fabric at his chest, wide, blinking eyes staring up at him.

"I know, Momo," Aang said quietly. "I don't know what to do either."

Aang had been expecting to see Fire Lord Zuko – his presence was made known a few weeks earlier, when Earth King Kuei had discovered his presence in Yu Dao, but Aang was out scouting other rebel ships along the coast during the time Zuko had meetings with Kuei; it frustrated him – Aang needed to be there, but there was not much he could do about it now.

How did it come to this?

The Harmony Restoration Movement was supposed to keep balance between Earth Kingdom citizens and Fire Nation colonists. It was supposed to help but before he knew it, before anyone knew it, the movement had turned into an attempt to eradicate the Fire Nation people from their homes. Aang saw Kuei's reasoning; he saw the reasoning in Zuko's refusal as well. But where did the Avatar's reasoning stand?

He did not know.

My duty as the Avatar…I must keep peace.

"How can I remain neutral in this, Momo?" Aang groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. He stood, tapping a finger to his chin, using the lemur as a silent consult – maybe if he spoke aloud, the right answer would come to him?

"If I side with Fire Lord Zuko, then Kuei will think I am against him. If I side with Kuei, then he will send troops to Yu Dao and force the colonists out of their homes!" Aang's arms began flailing as he talked, his pace getting faster and faster until he was walking in circles so fast, he had bent a small whirlwind of air without realizing it.

"But then there's the rebels – Smellerbee and Pipsqueak – and they're not making this any easier! Everyone's so upset, Momo, I don't know what to do. We only just resolved a war! Should I even talk about Katara? Did she get my gift?" He threw his arms up in exasperation. "What if it came off too strongly? She never even said if she still liked me back! Why am I so good at being the Avatar, but so bad at being a normal human being!" The small tornado started moving faster and faster, and an airborne Momo tried to beat his arms more frequently to try and out-fly the pull.

Momo made a small screech as he was yanked into Aang's whirlwind and he spun 'round and round until he was able to find a grip on Aang's tunic and pull himself up onto the Avatar's head, clinging for life.

"Hey, Twinkletoes!"

Aang stopped and the air around him vanished, the dirt and rocks it had collected clattering back down to the earth. He blinked a few times and looked up to see Momo still gripping tightly to his head.

"What are you doing up there?" he asked in confusion. "You're so weird." The lemur glared at him, slipping from his head onto his shoulder and shaking his ears.

Toph was coming towards him now, her bare feet kicking up dirt around her legs. Her arms were full and she muttered to herself, trying not to drop her precious goods.

"Look at all these cabbages I found!" she exclaimed happily, tossing one up in the air and catching it with her foot.

"Flameo," Aang said half-heartedly.

"Come on, what's got you down?" Toph replied.

Aang sat on the fountain once more, letting his head drop. "Everyone wants such different things. I don't know how to please them all."

Toph took a big bite of a cabbage, her face immediately twisting into disgust and she spit it out instantly, nearly heaving.

"You know, I had never tried cabbage before," she said begrudgingly. "Once was more than enough." She threw up her arms, tossing the mound of cabbages over her head and they soared surprisingly far into the distance. Aang swore he could hear a faint, pained cry of, "My cabbages!".

"Listen up, Twinkletoes. Rule number one: You can't make everyone happy." She plopped herself down next to him, but had forsaken the stone wall for the dirt, and grabbed her foot. "If you try to do that, you'll die from the exhaustion." Aang humph'd as she began picking her toes.

"Easy for you to say," he murmured pitifully. "I have whole nations depending on me. I have to make them happy. It's like the one job the Avatar has."

"Well, that, and avoiding worldly destruction."

"Each one affects the other."

Toph whistled. "Wise words, right there, baldy.

"Wasn't His Royal Poutiness here?" she continued.

Aang laced his fingers behind his head and went to lean back, forgetting he was merely sitting on the wall of a fountain. He teetered precariously for a moment, arms flailing about, before finally regaining his balance and sighing with relief.

"He was here a few weeks ago, not for long. I missed him when I was scouting the coast. Did you miss him too? I thought you were in the city."

"I was in the city, but I have a reputation to uphold!" Toph held up her hands as if she were revealing a slogan on a poster. "'The Blind Bandit Returns After Five Years'! Imagine the crowd! The glory! Ha ha ha ha!"

Aang chuckled. Toph's cackle always reminded him of the days of the Melon Lord.

I would give anything to have us all back together again like that.

"Is the Feet-Burner still refusing to cooperate?" Toph asked.

Aang shrugged, nodding absently. "Yeah. He doesn't want any part of the Harmony Restoration Movement to pass."

"Makes sense," Toph said, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest. "They're Fire Nation colonies. It's his peoples' homes. The Earth King is being a little unreasonable trying to expel them, if you ask me."

"Why do you say that?" Aang dropped his chin into his palm, listening intently.

"Because, Twinkletoes, the guy didn't actually have power for the majority of his rule as Earth King. That creepy Long-Feng guy had been brainwashing him." She sat up, animated with a memory. "Remember Joo Dee? Creepy. Anyway, I think he's on some kind of power trip. You just have to find that one thing that gets him to listen to reason."

"How do I know what that is?" Aang asked, desperate for anything that could help. Toph shrugged, replying, "I dunno. I'm not the Avatar."

"I guess-"

"Avatar Aang."

The two looked up, squinting against the sunlight that was cloaking the man in front of them in shadow. Aang brought his hand to his eyes, trying to peer into the face of the person calling out to him.

"How can I help?" Aang asked. The man bowed, the long sleeves of his green robes almost touching the ground.

"My name is Gu Yanwu, Grand Secretariat to Earth King Kuei and Ba Sing Se. Please, come with me. The Earth King wishes to speak with you. The matter is very urgent."

Aang stood instantly, gripping his staff tightly and he nodded, a pit of apprehension rising within his stomach.