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Epilogue

The wind was cold.

Even at midday, the sun shining, wearing her thickest parka, Katara found herself nestling closer to Aang. He had one arm around her shoulder, the other hand loosely holding the reins as Appa carried them through the bright blue sky.

"It'll be okay," Aang said. It was the fifth time he'd said it in the past hour—every time he did, as they drew nearer their destination, the more anxious she felt.

"You think so?" she asked. "You don't think it's a bad idea?"

He paused. Somberly, he said, "If one of the monks was still around to tell me more about my people—even if he was bad, I would want to hear it. Everything."

She and Aang had done a lot of talking in past weeks. About everything that had happened, about bloodbending, about in the clearing with the bloodbenders, Azula. Even about the days and nights when she had gone after the man who had killed her mother.

It had felt—good. And terrifying, too. She had never considered herself a secretive person, never thought of herself as having done anything truly bad enough to warrant secrets. Things that Aang wouldn't forgive her for. But—when she took a truly hard look at herself, she knew sometimes her memory was selective, that there were things she instinctively hid, did not explain fully, because they didn't fit what she wanted Aang to see of her. But she had accepted that sometimes the people she loved might see her when she wasn't at her best, or doing things they didn't agree with. If she wanted anyone to see her fully, just as she was, she wanted it to be Aang.

Aang, for his part, was always sincere, and thoughtful. He was supportive, but not mindlessly so—she knew he worried about her new willingness to use the power, even as he was also excited for the potential applications to her healing, and she worried where it might take her too. But as they talked and talked, sometimes in circles, it felt like they were working together on a problem, rather than at odds. And she didn't want it any other way.

She was also just glad to be able to take advantage of this time together. Since they were soon likely to be separated, perhaps for longer than they ever had before.

Appa began to descend through the clouds. The light wind rippled over her parka and through the loops in her hair, until she finally made out the white snowy landscape of the North. At last Appa landed with a heavy thump, sending snow swelling outward like an ocean wave, before it settled. Appa let out a low rumble of relief.

Aang hopped down from the saddle. He patted Appa's head affectionately before turning his eyes out to the snow, twisting and looping like the sand dunes of a beach. It shimmered bright in the sun, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes.

"I think it will be that way, according to Azula," Aang said, pointing. "Northeast of Whale-Bear rock. If she was telling the truth."

"Right," said Katara, feeling her stomach contract. "Okay. I'm going then."

She felt Aang catch her by her gloved hand, and pulled her into one last hug. "You'll be okay," he said, one more time.

She wrapped her arms around him in return, savoring his warmth. In his ear, she whispered, "I know, Aang. Thank you."

He let go and, taking a last breath, she turned. She made her way away through the snow, feet crunching with each step.

Katara didn't know how long she walked. She thought she imagined the sun creeping slightly higher in the sky, on the way to its zenith, before it would begin its long march to evening. The day was so oddly clear, especially for out on the northern tundra, they had decided it was better to land a far distance away, to avoid being seen too soon and spooking her quarry.

As Katara's eyes rose and scanned the landscape yet again, she wondered once more if this would turn out to be a fool's errand. After all, Azula had seemed—disconcertingly cooperative.

She pictured Azula in the shadows of her room, dominated with the crimsons and golds of Fire Nation royalty. Sitting up against her pillows after Katara's latest efforts to heal her, watching her.

"I suppose now you'll demand what you want to know," Azula had said casually. "Considering I expect there are no other water healers that would come here for me."

It was true—in the North Pole, Aang and Sokka had asked Chief Arnook if he would send skilled healers to help aid Katara in restoring Azula to full health. Katara had saved Azula's life with what felt like the pure brute force of bloodbending and the full moon, and she wasn't sure if Azula had been permanently crippled or not. Every time Katara touched her, her chi pathways felt like a knot impossible to untangle, a twisted mass. Azula had also mentioned blithely that she couldn't seem to firebend properly—which could be a lie, but if true, was also a concern.

Arnook had not said no directly, but demurred, saying that they had no healers to spare presently. Which Sokka had translated to mean no healers for psychotic princesses.

Before Katara had been able to reply—that she had no intention of blackmailing Azula for any reason—Azula had continued, "I suppose that, given if word gets back to the hag about who I am she'll do her level best to ensure I meet a premature end, seeing her imprisoned in a cold cell at the far end of the world would be to my advantage, too."

Katara still hadn't made a single argument or said a single thing before—if Azula was telling the truth, and not messing with her just to mess with her—Katara knew where in the vast northern tundra to find the old Southern master.

"If you do end up becoming evil, do let me know," Azula had added idly. "I could use the amusement."

Katara scanned the landscape again, the wide field of white. She saw nothing. Maybe Azula had been toying with her after all—that would hardly be a surprise. A deep sigh escaped her, though even she wasn't sure if it was a sigh of disappointment, or relief.

However, as she rounded the side of a large ice-covered cliffside, at last her eyes fell on something, an interruption to the endless white. A spot of brown like a tent made of fur, a wisp of smoke rising into the sky.

Katara's feet crunched against the snow, until at last she stood on the edge of the clearing, sheltered by the cliffside. A hunched figure sat on a log in front of a small campfire, poking at the embers with a long stick. As Katara came to a stop, the figure didn't look up.

Katara watched her for a moment, taking in the bent fingers, gnarled with age, the old eyes, set in folds of wrinkles, focused intently on the fire. Then at last Katara spoke.

"Hello, Hama."

Hama did look up then, just the briefest glance Katara's way, before her eyes returned to the fire.

"When they didn't come back, I knew they must not have succeeded," Hama noted. She paused. "Are they alive?"

Her tone was distant, detached, though not entirely in the way Azula's would have been. Not cold or uncaring, but rather like someone who had already spent a lifetime losing people, and had learned to be hard, always prepared for the worst.

"Yes," Katara said, as gently as she could. "We took them to the North Pole. They're under arrest right now, but Chief Arnook will be the one to decide what will be done with them."

"Amka?" she asked, tone still detached.

Katara hesitated. "Your student Nukka… stabbed her. When she found out Amka was really Princess Azula of the Fire Nation." It didn't really account for all that had happened, Zuko and his family's weeks of grief and pain, but it was close enough.

Hama didn't immediately respond. She poked the fire.

"And was she Princess Azula?" she asked finally.

Katara looked away. "Yes. I'm sorry."

Hama sighed deeply. "I suppose I should have known. Only an ashmaker would be that bad at making fire the traditional way. And with the luck I've had, the opportunity to get back at the Fire Nation was a little too good to be true."

"You don't sound angry," Katara said, surprised.

"I expect I will be, when I've had time to think on it more," Hama answered. "At least Nukka got her. Did the princess survive?"

"Yes," Katara said. "Though she's not—fully well."

"Hm," said Hama, a grunt that was somehow neither satisfied nor dissatisfied. She added, "I suppose I have to give the girl credit. She had guts, for an ashmaker. She let my students practice on her. We could have killed her at any time."

It was true, Azula had no shortage of confidence. However, Katara made no comment, and instead only gazed down at the old woman. A mentor she had once been glad to meet, a little bit of home deep in the Fire Nation. The old woman who had since then stalked her nightmares.

Hama, right now, looked strangely frail, shriveled up from hard years and hate. And for a moment, Katara allowed herself to imagine having lived Hama's fate—stolen from her home, locked in a cage, one by one losing Sokka, Suki, Toph, Zuko, Aang—everyone she had ever known or loved. To cruelty, neglect. Just the thought of the loss of her mother had the power to send her into a rage at the senselessness, make her want to do terrible things to the people who had done it. She liked to think she would never have targeted those who had nothing to do with the loss of her friends, but—worn down day after day, month after month, year after year, until the Fire Nation all became one face of evil, even its most innocent citizens offering passive support—alone, with no friends or family to ground her and keep her sane—Katara couldn't say for sure what she would have become.

Hama sighed again, at last putting down her stick. "Well, I suppose you're here now to arrest me and take me to the North Pole."

Katara, in spite of herself, smiled a little. "Unless you want to have another waterbending duel first."

Hama folded her boney hands together. "I think I'm a little old for waterbending duels."

"You weren't the last time we met." In spite of Katara's best intentions, a bit of accusation crept into her voice.

Hama turned her gaze from the fire to really look at Katara for the first time. Her old eyes were tired. "In spite of what you may think, Katara, I never wanted to hurt you or your friends."

"You had a strange way of showing it." The echo of Hama's laugh in her memory still raised the hair on the back of her neck. The feeling of losing control of her body for the first time, realizing the old woman she had thought of as friend, almost family, was turning her own body against her.

"No," said Hama. She was gazing at the fire again, eyes wistful. "I only wanted to make sure that, should you need to, you would be willing to defend yourself with all the gifts at your disposal. I had to push you, to show you that you could use it, if the need arose."

Katara blinked, surprised. Then she softened. "I guess maybe I did learn that lesson. I've had to use it a lot lately—though most of it was my own fault, since all this started when I used it on Azula."

Katara approached, coming to a stop just across the fire. "Hama, I… have a request to make."

"Before you place me back in prison?" she replied archly.

Katara shrugged. "I guess so." She took a silent breath. "Hama, I… want you to teach me more about the Southern way of waterbending. Everything you know and remember. Before our secrets, our culture, is lost forever."

Hama was silent for a long minute. She had picked up the stick again, and stirred at the ashes, sending up a flurry of sparks.

"A part of me wants to say no, purely out of spite," she admitted. "I don't know that I want our secrets going to help the Fire Lord and the other ashmakers, as that seems to be what you want to do with them."

"I help people that need it," Katara said, "whatever their nation. And Zuko's not like Ozai."

"For now," Hama said.

She sighed, then poked the smoldering end of the stick into a nearby patch of snow, sending a trail of smoke hissing into the air. She set the stick across her lap, resting her elbows on it. She stared into the fire for a long minute, the firelight flickering in her eyes. At last, she turned her eyes to Katara's.

"Very well then," she said. "I will teach you what I know. You are perhaps the most gifted young waterbender I have ever met, and you could likely do more with the knowledge than I ever could. And as you say, I'd hate to let us all die out, and let the ashbreathers win."

Katara felt a swell in her chest tempered by a vague knot of dread. It was not going to be easy, spending time with Hama. Though she was smaller and more feeble than Katara remembered, not quite the inhuman monstrous black shadow she had pictured in her nightmares, she knew the old woman was still a well of bitterness and anger. It would be an effort to keep it from bleeding into her own, feeding it. But she was not afraid of bloodbending or herself the way she had been—it existed, and it could be a curse, but also a gift, depending on how she used it.

The sun above shone brightly against the snow.

A/N: And! That's it. The end.

I mentally used the expression pulling teeth a lot while working on this story. I thought the first draft was already in a fairly presentable state when I first finished it in 2017/2018 (and compared to most of my unreadably long and meandering first drafts back then, it was), but as time went on I knew it wasn't really quite what I wanted, and had more growing to do. As always, I may still come back for more editing later, but it's exciting to have finally reached a finished state with this project that I've been able to share.

Now, as you've probably guessed, there is supposed to, maybe, be a Part 3. Which as of now, I have a partial first draft for, along with somewhat of a plan for the rest of it. It's still a long way from completion, and I'm not completely sure when/if that will happen, but I like the foundation so far, and it's very much my hope that I will be able to bring it to completion eventually. There's much more I'd like to explore with Katara and Zuko's stories, and Azula's, too. Wish me luck!

Thank you all so much for reading! If you'd like to check out any of my other Avatar work, I have a couple more stories up here (I'll admit that Path of Storms, an AU in which Katara kills Yon Rha, ended up cannibalizing some concepts from this story, but it explores alternative thematic conclusions), and of course you can find my comic adaptations of scenes from Baithin's epic fanfiction Distorted Reality on deviantArt, tumblr, or Tapas, by searching 'Avatar Distorted Reality.'

Once more, if you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope you all have an amazing rest of the year. Thank you so much again, and take care!

—Rocket

Posted 9/23/23