the impasse
Aang's breathing starts to steady. Color slowly begins to return to his pale, soot-covered skin, and there is a brief, bitter moment where Katara wishes he would stay asleep. Would that not be a kinder fate- to fade quietly? His heart wouldn't beat in terror at the thought of watching her die at Ozai's hands. Knowing his life will end next. Or, who knows? she thinks miserably. Maybe he'll go first. It doesn't matter either way; the room grows imperceptibly brighter with each passing minute, stained now with the cold, unfeeling blue of the twilight hours. He's already rousing, eyes flickering beneath fluttering eyelids, and soon- too soon- she'll glance over and see the first reaching fingers of sunlight seeping under the heavy iron door. The dawn rising on Ozai's new regime.
"... Katara..."
She bites back a sob. He's been calling out to her for the last hour, but even with her hand snaked between the bars to rest gently against his cheek, or nudging gently at his chest, he doesn't respond when she murmurs back. After a while, she simply tucks her hand in his, determined to stay there until he wakes. She's long since lost feeling, but it doesn't matter now.
The door swings open, and Mai glides in, a shadow. A ghost. She balances a tray with two bamboo steamers in her hands. Gingerly, she kneels low, sets the tray carefully on the ground. Her hand rests at the edge, like she's waiting for a signal to push the steamers beneath the narrow food slot in the iron bars.
Katara never really looked at Mai before. She always seemed blurry, like someone only ever on the periphery. Azula's, or Zuko's. It seems almost strange to see her by herself, as if it wasn't possible for Mai to operate- or even exist- independently of her royal peers. But, now, Mai kneels across from her, and Katara sees that her eyes are a well of fathomless feeling, or no feeling at all. She stares for a long while. Too long- like she's sizing Katara up, determining the best course of attack. The best way to slip a knife between her ribs.
Katara shifts uncomfortably.
Finally, when she thinks she can't take another moment, Mai speaks. "You said he's looking for me." Her voice is low. It could almost be considered a murmur, and Katara gets the feeling that she rarely speaks above this octave. Even so, she's not soft-spoken; there's a steel there sharper than any of her knives.
"He is," Katara replies, finding her voice. "Or... He was."
"You saw him."
A brisk nod.
"When?"
"Right before you captured me. He went looking for you." A bitter laugh. "I'm guessing he didn't find you."
Mai's expression- already blank- flattens further. It's strange, like negative space. Like the blankness, the flatness, happens where emotion should. "Have you told anyone else?"
Katara shakes her head.
Silence falls again, several long, discordant heartbeats. Then, Mai slides the tray through the food slot, the lids of the steamers barely clearing the iron bars.
"Azula will be here in two hours," she says. Then she leaves the room without another word.
Katara glowers at the tray. A full stomach won't keep her alive any longer. Why would Mai bother? It was definitely Mai's idea; Katara sincerely doubts Azula is considerate enough to offer them breakfast. Still, though- she hasn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, and the sense of impending doom hasn't seemed to register to her stomach, yet. Steam curls beckoningly from beneath the bamboo lids.
She scoots over to the tray. With death approaching so quickly- so many variables beyond her control- it seems foolish to skip an opportunity like this one, however small it may be. Dying with a full stomach is better than dying on an empty one- and food might coax Aang to rejoin the world of the living. Just in time for...
Mentally, she swats that thought away, and lifts one lid.
It clatters to the floor. Katara presses the back of one closed fist into her mouth to stifle disbelieving laughter.
Inside sits a bowl, filled to the brim with nothing but steaming water.
Time is not on her side, but Katara stares at the bowls until the steam begins to dissipate to nothing but an occasional evaporating wisp. Another drop of water wasted while she makes up her mind.
Both bowls combined contain about a liter of water. And Katara could take that water and hide it- make plates of ice to tuck against her skin, under her sarashi, to whip out when her captors get within range. It could mean her escape, and maybe Aang's, too.
It's easy, dangerously easy, to imagine the surprised look on Azula's face: golden, glittering eyes wide, red lips parted in shock as Katara drives a frozen blade between the overlapping plates of the princess's cuirass, and into her black heart.
She smiles with perverse pleasure, but at the same time, she can feel Ty Lee's incapacitating strikes. Mai's allegiance is questionable at best; Ty Lee's is another thing altogether. The taste of vengeance would likely be sweet, but brief.
Her eyes dart to Aang. The second option presses forward.
She could heal him. A liter isn't much; but it's not nothing, either. It'll be enough to wake him up- he might even be able to stand, maybe fight, for short periods of time. With his mind focused, aware... perhaps the strength from his past lives would take over. He could use the Avatar State to lay waste to the Red Lotus, like he did in Ba Sing Se. Maybe he'd leave the Fire Nation Royal Palace a smoking ruin, and then they'd stroll to the stables, leisurely, to find Sokka, Toph, and Appa there. Iroh, too, frowning regally as Aang tosses Ozai and Azula, bound, at the true Fire Lord's feet.
Or, her mind supplies helpfully, Aang would be fully aware and lucid as Ozai's executioner kills him.
There is almost certainly a 'better' decision. A choice more likely to free them from Azula's grasp, or to end Ozai's reign before it can begin. But, Katara doesn't know what it is, and Aang's eyes are fluttering; his voice raspy in his throat. Whatever happens next, he deserves to be aware of it. To fight for himself. To speak on his own behalf. To stand on his own two feet.
She snakes the water from the bowls to hover in a heavy globule above her open palm before sinking it into Aang's body. She doesn't know where to begin exactly; any number of his injuries could arguably take precedence. Blood loss, hairline fractures on two of his ribs, intense bruising of his internal organs that will likely keep him doubled over in pain when he finally does wake. With a lack of time and resources, she makes her choice: assisting his body with processing the water to replace some of the blood he lost.
Beyond the heavy iron door, she can hear an increase in patrols. Heavy boots stomping past, loud protests, shouts of confusion. And a low buzz that seems to come from everywhere- like the panicked hum of an overturned bee-hive. The sound of a thousand voices asking, "What's happening?"
Aang's color is returning, starting from his center and working its way to his arms, his legs, his fingertips. His mumbling grows more lucid, and his breathing, shallow and rapid before, steadies. The first blinding rays of sunrise creep beneath the iron door as his eyes flutter open, and Katara breathes her first- and likely her last- sigh of relief for that day.
His hand grabs hers, where it hovers open-palmed above his chest. She smiles weakly when their eyes meet. "Good morning."
A low laugh. She understands; her casual greeting feels out of place.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I got trampled, clawed, burned. You name it." He reaches up with both arms, stomach muscles tensing like he wants to sit up.
She helps lift him, her shoulders pressed uncomfortably against the bars that separate them. She's reluctant to rush him- recovery from injuries like this takes weeks. They don't even have hours. "How much to do you remember?" she asks.
"Lu Ten. Hama. The Bhanti Sage. The Red Lotus attack." It's a whisper, barely heard above the buzz outside. His hands curl into fists in his lap. "You, falling."
She swallows thickly. That's enough to fill his nightmares for a lifetime, and they aren't out of it, yet. "After I fell, I found Iroh and Zuko. They're okay," she recounts. "As well as can be expected, anyway." Quickly, she outlines the the last twelve hours. The details of a hastily organized plan that will never come to fruition. Her voice grows weaker when she details her meeting with Azula; the twisted plans the Firebender has in store for them. "Hopefully, Sokka has taken Toph and Iroh far away from here. We were supposed to leave for the Western Air Temple by now."
He purses his lips. He looks better than before, the pale shadow on the stone floor, but he's still gaunt, lean. Exhausted. A ghost of himself. He doesn't even look at her when he whispers, "I failed."
In twenty years, she's never felt such pain. The fierce twisting of a cherry-red knife, straight to her heart. She doesn't even know how to formulate a reply- what she could possibly say to sweep away the palpable despair that fills the air between them at the broken sound of his voice?
"No, Aang- no, you didn't," she whispers, pressing closer to the bars to take his face in her hands. "We tried our hardest, all of us did... And I know Sokka got away. I know it. The Red Lotus won't win against the other nations-"
Aang's hands wrap around her wrists, cutting her words short. "Katara, you have to leave."
She tugs her hands free, and buries her head in them. The events of the last twelve hours assault her mind; an ambush, a hard fall into darkness. Escape with a prince who can't seem to pick a side. And now, this. Anger burns bright. Before she can begin to protest, he smiles that crooked smile, the one that makes her heart clatter around in her chest, the one lets her know in excruciating detail just how much she can love him. Or, like now, just how much she can hate him- hate that he could ask this of her.
"I can't fight, Katara," he murmurs gently. "I can barely lean against these bars."
Her head shakes hard, back and forth, blurring him. A noise escapes her- "No," repeated, over and over.
"Please." He's begging now, that crooked smile fading. "Don't make me- I couldn't- you could still escape, you can-"
"How could you ask me to leave you behind?" A sharp whisper. "How could you even think-"
He shifts slowly to her, reaching between the bars to cup her face in one hand. "I could split the bars for you." He nods toward the heavy iron door. "I could put a hole in the wall- I have strength enough for that. A fight, though? I wouldn't last two minutes. I'll be dead weight for you to drag behind you-"
"-Then, that's what I'll do, Aang-"
"- You can still make if if you go on your own. Katara, please-"
She pushes his hand away forcefully. "Do you think I could live with that, Aang? Could you?"
"I couldn't live with you dying because I was too afraid or too weak to let you go," he shoots back. His voice is stronger, matching her anger.
Her expression hardens. Over a year now, they'd been together. A year that she'd known him. Hated him. Tolerated him. Loved him, with more than she ever realized she was capable of. And this- she knows she would never forgive him.
"You won't have to live with it," she says firmly, making the choice for both of them. Sealing their fate. "Neither of us will."
A thousand emotions cross his face, roiling in the molten silver of his eyes. The argument plays out in the air between them. Words unsaid, darting back and forth between iron bars. Neither of them speak; their points fought, won, lost- all in the meeting of blue and gray.
He reaches between the bars again, drag her to him, his hands shaking against the column of her neck, her jaw.
Like you said, she thinks desperately as his lips move over hers, the bars pressed against her cheeks, if we're going to die, at least we'll be together.
When Azula finally comes for them, she sails past the heavy iron door like a conquering empress. Mai and Ty Lee follow her silently. All of them are dressed for war; Mai in shades of black and burgundy leather over her draping robes, Ty Lee in a sturdy linen uniform. Azula, of course, in full military regalia, medals from a war that hasn't even begun riveted into the breast plate of her cuirass.
Katara sneers. Easy to play war hero when you're the one writing the history books.
The princess notes Katara eyeing the new medals distastefully, and sweeps at one of the locks that frame her face, escaped from her sleek black topknot. "Do you like them?" she preens. The point of one long fingernail taps sharply against an intricate gold medal. "This one is for capturing the Avatar and his pet Waterbender."
Aang makes a noise of disgust, his hands curling quietly- threateningly- around the black bars.
The princess blinks in surprise. "Oh, your Holiness, what a pleasure to see you awake again. And just in time for the ceremony- how lovely." She turns to the guards that hover anxiously by the door. "The keys, if you please, gentlemen? We don't have all day."
There's a jingling sound as the closest guard pulls the keys from his belt and opens both cell doors. Mai slinks immediately into Katara's, a knife at the ready, and Ty Lee bounces into Aang's. Both have heavy iron manacles in their hands, and Katara fights a strange sort of panic in her chest. Animal, like a beast in a cage. The knowledge that those manacles mean her death, and the instinct to fight tooth and nail to keep them off her. But Aang is in the cell beside her, calm, almost meditative when Ty Lee pulls him gently to his feet and binds his hands behind his back with two resounding 'clicks'.
Manacles clamp cold and hard around her wrists, a quick judder she can feel in her bones as the locking mechanisms fall into place.
"A coup is not the same thing as a successful war campaign," Aang tells Azula grimly. "The other three nations will not let this stand."
A cold, condescending smile. "I wouldn't be so sure; certain individuals are uniquely positioned to benefit from our success. But, if daydreams of vengeance help you walk with your head high to the executioner, I suppose I shouldn't fault you for it."
"Do individuals speak for nations? Or, have you confused your own agenda with global interest?"
"It won't matter to you either way, in an hour or so." She flicks her chin forward.
At the princess's silent command, Ty Lee guides Aang firmly from his cell. Mai leads Katara, following several paces behind. It only takes a few steps past the iron door for Katara to understand why Aang insisted that she leave without him. His breathing rattles in his chest with each foot fall, and what little color Katara managed to coax back during their healing session begins to fade. He has to stop every twenty yards or so to catch his breath, and Azula taps her foot impatiently at each delay. When they reach a pair of sturdy wooden doors at the bottom of a series of stairs, Aang is ghostly white, his breathing coming in sharp gasps.
"For Spirits' sake," Azula complains, rolling her eyes skyward when he sinks to his knees at the bottom of the steps. She marches over, bending down to lift him roughly back to his feet.
"Leave him alone," Katara snarls, all but dragging Mai behind her to wedge herself between Aang and Azula, but all it earns her is a sharp kick to the diaphragm from Ty Lee, knocking the wind out of her and causing her to double over.
With Katara subdued, Azula lifts Aang roughly back to his feet. "You've had the honor of spending the entire night in the Royal Family's private wing of the palace," she announces sweetly, dusting a smudge of dirt from the tattered remains of his kasaya. She points one imperious finger at the double doors. "Through there is the main compound. This is your last chance to present a dignified image to the rest of the world. The people beyond these doors are the last people who will see you alive." She frowns, eyeing him critically.
Katara can see the princess's words for what they are, and the withering look that Aang directs to Azula tells her that he understands, too. Dragging a near-lifeless Avatar onto center stage hardly matches her artfully curated story of the conquering princess, the savior of her great nation. But, Aang only nods brusquely and squares his shoulders.
Azula smiles, clearly pleased. "Good. This way, if you'd be so kind."
When the double doors open, they are instantly plunged into the strangest dichotomy of chaos and order Katara has ever seen.
Servants and palace officials run amok in wide-eyed confusion. Papers are strewn everywhere- in some places, baskets of linens lay abandoned or overturned, as if the servant carrying them had disappeared into thin air. But here and there, chambermaids step carefully over the detritus, gilded food trays in hand, and valets on palace business glide around men and women who sit, weeping, on the red-carpeted floor. Guards march down the long hallways in twos and threes. Some of them have weapons drawn- others have no weapons at all. A pair of soldiers drag a babbling low-level officiant between them; the man's eyes are wide, and his voice warbles and cracks with fear, but there's still righteous indignation in his voice as he shrieks, "Murderers! Murderers!" His voice fades as the soldiers drag him down the hallway, beyond Katara's line of sight.
A Royal Guard Lieutenant emerges from an adjoining hallway, and drops to her knees when Azula passes by. "Your Highness," she calls, dazed. "Forgive me- is it true? Is the Fire Lord dead?"
Azula holds her hand up for the company to stop. She glides to the kneeling lieutenant, cupping the woman's face in one hand. "His Royal Majesty could not be in finer health," the princess assures her.
The woman blinks, bemused.
"Join your comrades in the palace courtyard," she continues, smiling like a mother would over a child. "His Majesty has important news for the future of our great nation."
Without another word, Azula leaves the lieutenant, gesturing lazily for the company to follow. As the group passes, understanding dawns over the lieutenant. She falls heavily against the nearest wall and buries her head in her hands, crying openly in the bustling chaos of the hallway.
"This is what happens when you overturn a monarch," Aang murmurs to Azula.
"You would know, wouldn't you?"
Aang's jaw clenches. "Roku did what he felt was right- and you've spent the last twelve hours proving that he made the right choice. All you've done is invite chaos into your kingdom. What's next? You kill your own people- the ones who don't fall in line?"
"I'd prefer not to," the princess replies with a shrug. "But, like I told your Waterbender, sacrifices must sometimes be made."
"Not by you, it seems."
An irritated flicker of a vein at Azula's temple- the dart of golden eyes to Katara. "Charming," she says acidly. After that, she ignores anyone that calls out to her.
She leads them to a small antechamber, a simple door in one wall, and a massive, ornate door across from it, gold inlaid into mahogany, depicting fire-breathing dragons curled around great pillars that hold up a lit bier. Katara recognizes that door. Beyond it is the balcony that overlooks the palace courtyard. Wide, sturdy; in plain view of everyone that stands below. Iroh once told her that the Royal Family often uses that balcony to make great speeches, or announce feasts. Or wars, she thinks, the voice in her mind small. Or executions.
Azula gives them a cruel smile. "I'll see you both out there. Ladies, you know your cue?" She doesn't wait for an answer; she sweeps onto the balcony, and is welcomed into the small group gathered there, all winsome smiles and congratulatory bows.
Even as the door shuts slowly, Katara can feel the nervous buzzing of the crowd gathered in the courtyard, growing louder and louder with each passing moment. Every so often, the measured, marching steps of palace guards pass by the antechamber as they sweep the hallways in search of stragglers. Each pass of the guards is punctuated with a deeper plunge into silence, until finally, the palace might as well be a tomb.
She drags herself closer to Aang, ignoring Mai's murmured protest. Her shoulder brushes his, and she looks up at him. His skin is still pale, still soot-covered. Sweat beads on his brow, over the sky-blue of his arrow. His eyes are lined in red, as if he's trying not to cry, but he gives her a weak smile, and leans down to kiss her. It's brief, the merest brushing of their lips- the last kiss they'll ever share.
The buzzing in the courtyard stops. A sonorous voice addresses the crowd, muffled by the heavy mahogany door. "This is a historic day for the Fire Nation."
She turns away; buries her head against Aang's shoulder. She doesn't want to hear another word- only wants to linger, to cherish for one more moment in the encompassing warmth of him- too warm, flushed with fever, but still Aang, still alive. The speaker continues. Her eyes squeeze tightly shut. If her hands weren't chained behind her, she'd cover her ears.
The doors open. Mai pushes her forward, into the light, and it takes a few moments for her eyes to adjust. The sun is risen, hovering just above the jagged walls of the volcano that surrounds the Fire Nation Capitol. Rays of pink and orange are dotted with flocks of island birds sailing between tufts of soft white clouds. A beautiful morning. Katara keeps her eyes on the horizon, pointedly avoiding the hundreds- perhaps a thousand- of Fire Nation citizens. The mixed bag of expressions she knows she'll see down there; horror, terror, pride, joy. Mai guides her up to a structure at the far end of the balcony; a sturdy, raised wooden beam, two chains dangling from it. A guard steps forward to unclip one side of Katara's manacles, bringing her arms in front of her before locking the manacle back in place. He raises her arms above her head to tether her to one of the chains. She's helpless, now. Defenseless. A quick look to her left, and she sees Aang similarly chained, but he gives her a reassuring nod.
Long, cold fingers dig beneath her manacles. Mai, checking that the cuffs are secure. The girl doesn't make eye contact as her fingers slide across Katara's palm, squeezing her hand gently. A gesture of comfort, perhaps. There and then gone, a phantom. Like Mai herself.
But when Katara's hand closes again, she feels something cold and hard- metal, like a pin, with two protrusions on the end. Katara almost stumbles in surprise.
Not a pin. A key.
Below them, a gasp seems to go through the crowd. A whisper, repeated a thousand times. "The Avatar." The buzzing returns in full force. It fills Katara's chest- it matches the welter of emotions, buzzing at the same frequency. She can feel it in her ears, in her fingertips. In her blood.
Movement at the corner of her eye. The sound of silk brushing polished stone. Ozai steps forward, his long black hair flowing down his back like the red silk of his robes. His hands are held out as if in welcome, as if he were some benevolent king ushering in a new era. Katara doesn't doubt he imagines himself that way. He doesn't spare either her or Aang a second glance, but Azula, at his right side, deigns to give them one triumphant smile.
"My citizens," Ozai calls, his voice ringing. "This night we passed is a historic one. Centuries from now, your children's children's children will read about it as the dawn of prosperity across all nations. A story of triumph, above treachery, above betrayal. A story nearly thirty years in the making, beginning with my father's reign, years ago."
He pauses dramatically, his hands lowering slowly, artfully. A flair for the dramatic, indeed.
"The night has brought us many deep, deep losses," he says, pressing one hand to his heart. "We will feel the scars for generations to come. But from the ashes, our people will rise, a phoenix, reborn. For too long, the powers of the world have hidden behind the guise of 'progress' and 'cooperation.'" He spits the words out in disgust. "From the shores of the Fire Nation to the glaciers of the Water Tribes, to the high stone walls of Ba Sing Se, we will carve out a new world order; one that prioritizes strength and power. It will take courage; it will take bravery. Those who have the strength to follow my vision will find themselves rewarded with the spoils of war, and when the rest of the world kneels at our feet, they will understand what power truly looks like." His lip curls, and at last, he flicks one derisive glance in Aang's direction. "And, we will start with him."
A murmur, shuffling movement from the crowd. A man's voice, small and lost among the throng, calls out. "What did he do?"
Ozai's expression twists savagely. His eyes dart to the nearest guard, who melts into the shadowed antechamber behind them. "He is a symbol of oppression. He was meant to represent all nations, to be a voice for all peoples. And yet, he holds us beneath his boot heel with the strength of a false idol. His predecessor murdered your Fire Lord. He has failed us, like Roku before him. The next time the Avatar's feet stand on solid ground, it will be in the world we have created."
Soldiers seep into the crowd below. Two of them drag the speaker from the throng and taking them beyond Katara's line of sight. She can hear his struggling protest as he's pulled out of sight, a hoarse, drawn-out yell that ends abruptly. The hair at the back of her neck stands on end. The crowd rustles in fear, and their eyes drag back to Ozai, who smiles as if nothing happened at all.
"Welcome to the new era," he purrs, and steps away.
Join, or die.
It's now or never, Katara thinks desperately, flexing the palm of her right hand to guide that pin into her waiting fingertips.
Soldiers- executioners- gather before her and Aang. Firebenders and swordsmen, as if Ozai couldn't decide which would look better.
In the cell, the decision was easy. She wouldn't abandon Aang to his death. She wouldn't spend the remainder of her days knowing that she left the man she loves to die alone.
The key sinks into the keyhole.
She still won't, but standing here now- a Firebender poised and ready to strike a burning hole through the center of her chest, a swordsman beside him, one hand wrapped around the leather-bound hilt of his sword- she's not so sure she's ready to give up on the whole escape attempt, either.
A soft 'click'. The manacle on her right wrist breaks loose. She leaves her arms above her head, and begins wrestling the key into the keyhole on her left wrist.
Azula steps around her father. Mai and Ty Lee flank her, and Mai reaches into a deep pocket to hand the princess an ornate scroll. Azula unrolls the scroll, and clears her throat. "It has been decreed that the Avatar will be executed first, followed by his accomplice, Waterbending Master Katara, for their crimes against the Fire Nation and, more specifically, the Fire Nation Royal Family."
It's an awkward angle; Katara's right wrist shrieks in protest as she works to slip the key into the keyhole without attracting attention.
"By the grace of his Royal Majesty," Azula continues, loud enough for the crowd to hear, "you have been granted the honor of choosing the means of your execution. The sword, or the flame. Make your choice, and meet your fate."
"I've committed no crime," Aang answers, his voice ringing. "I do not choose death."
Katara's panicked eyes dart to Ozai, whose glare darkens at Aang's response. His lips curl back over his teeth into a repulsive snarl. Even in the midst of her panic, Katara notes that Azula's eyes dart to her father, too. Just as frightened as Katara.
"The choice is the sword or the flame," Azula repeats, firmly, dragging her eyes back to Aang.
"Neither."
The key finally- finally- slides into the lock.
"Then the decision is made for you," the princess announces, a sharp edge to her voice that tells Katara that she's barely in control of her temper. "Swordsman, stand down. Master Firebender, the execution of Avatar Aang has fallen to you. Justice for the Royal Family, and the whole of our glorious nation, falls squarely on your shoulders." She shoots him a wild look, eyes wide with success so close. "Do your duty." Then, she steps back behind her father.
'Click'.
There's water down there; far below, a hundred yards away, at least, but Katara can feel it pulsing through narrow channels, sewers and drainages beneath the red dirt of the courtyard. She's only bent water from that far away on a few occasions, under controlled circumstances, in a safe environment. Controlling water from that distance takes practice, takes concentration. Takes time.
The Firebender advances. His eyes are blank, empty, glittering a fiery gold, with none of the warmth. "Avatar Aang, you have been sentenced to die," he intones. "Do you have any final words?"
She reaches for the water anyway.
Beside her, Aang's chest rises and falls. "Not for you," he says. His eyes close.
The Firebender draws a deep breath.
A roaring sound, a burning rush as the Firebender strikes.
And everything happens at once.
A wave crashes upward, over the edge of the balcony, drowning the platform in water, as Aang moves with a strength that Katara didn't realize he still had. Flame rushes toward him; his arms flex as his weight comes to rest on his shackled hands, and uses his legs to sweep a deafening gust of air at the Firebender. The man flies backward, his head colliding the balcony wall in a sickening crunch. Flames swirl, blinding her, but Katara protects herself and Aang by surrounding them in curling arms of ice.
When the flames dissipate, the balcony is in shambles; most of the gathered officials have been swept off their feet. Azula recovers first, flipping into the air to send blue fire at Katara. She drowns it with a low wave- simultaneously blocking several of Mai's knives, thrown unerringly at center mass.
"Cut me loose," Aang shouts. He uses both legs to kick one blast of wind after another at Ty Lee as the girl rolls under an arm of Katara's Octopus form, coming up for a series of sharp jabs. She goes skittering away when the wind catches her mid-stomach.
Azula is fully recovered now, her sopping hair steaming as she unleashes a barrage at Katara. Barely audible over the sound of her attack is her father bellowing with rage. "Finish him, finish them both! Kill that Waterbender!"
Three of Katara's six Octopus form arms swat away Azula's assault; the other three freeze the swords of Katara and Aang's would-be executioners, tossing the blades over the balcony with a whistling sound.
"Katara," Aang calls again, more urgently this time.
He stomps one foot on the ground, sending a spike of stone into Mai's stomach. The girl is flung backwards, the wind knocked from her lungs, and she crashes against Azula in a tangle of limbs. Katara steals a moment to freeze the chain above Aang's head, and sends a blade of water whistling toward it. Aang drops to the ground, and she dives for him, barely tucking under a flurry of hits from Ty Lee. She freezes Ty Lee's feet to the balcony, before ramming a shoulder into her stomach- there's a resounding 'crack!' and yelp of pain as one of the girl's ankles pops out of place when she crashes to the ground. Katara doesn't even slow down, blocking a swordsman's blade with a sturdy dagger of ice as it arcs downward towards Aang's sternum. Aang's breathing is ragged, face pale, but he uses his manacled hands to blast the swordsman against the balcony wall.
"We need to get out of here," she pants, spinning to block a blast from Azula before crashing a heavy wave over her. "Can you-"
The rattle of Earthbending cuts her short; Aang bends the stones on the balcony to form a low, protective wall around them. "Fly us out?" he finishes for her. He shakes his head. "Not far enough."
"Then we'll drop down; disappear into the crowd," she says, peering quickly over the balcony edge. She's selecting a good line of escape between the panicked chaos of the crowd below when she hears a sound, sharp and deafening. She shares one startled look with Aang, and they both peek above the wall.
Ozai and Azula stand shoulder to shoulder, mirrored images of movement, like a dance. Their fingers swirl in the air, fluid and fast, and a horrifying, crackling white light trails the path their fingertips leave. Out of the corner of her eye, strands of her hair lift slowly into the air, as if she's hanging upside down.
Sokka used to share stories of benders that specialized in certain forms, subsets of elemental bending so rare as to be almost legendary. Encounters with these benders almost always resulted in death for their opposition; their skill so lethal, their control so precise, that it was said that one could not stand against them, and live to speak of it. Lavabenders, Air Benders so strong they could create hurricanes, Waterbenders that could control the water within plants. And Firebenders, with the power to create lightning.
Her hands curl around Aang's shoulders and she hauls both of them backwards over the balcony railing just as a blinding fork of lightning detonates in the spot they were standing.
Red courtyard dirt kicks up in a furious howl of wind as Aang bends a cushion of wind to break their fall, but before Katara's feet are on the ground again, lightning is already roaring to life on the balcony above. She spares one brief glance at Azula- one foot on the railing, eyes furious and wild, energy trailing from her fingertips- and then she's running, dragging Aang behind her. Deafening explosions and powerful shockwaves of heat lick at their backs and heels as they sprint through the crowd. Plumes of dirt leap into the air with each strike, raining thick red clods of dirt down on anyone within range. Katara runs blindly, the margin between lightning strikes far too narrow for her to mount a counterattack. Instead, she drags Aang between cowering Fire Nation citizens, shouting in panic and fear as their princess sends shockwaves of electricity indiscriminately into the crowd. Her heart is in her throat- she spots a narrow gap in the soldier's defenses as the civilians join her in fleeing, pushing furiously against the army trying desperately to keep them contained in the courtyard. They might make it. They could make it.
But Aang is slowing with every step, his breathing coming in ragged gasps, his hand slipping from hers, until he drops finally, going sprawling into the dirt. She scrambles to lift him back to his feet, but it's no use; he can't go any further. He looks up at her imploringly.
"Don't you dare," she snaps. Tears stream freely. She looks at the soldiers, a stone's throw away. They're so close. They're so close.
A pale hand reaches from the crowd. Slips below Aang's left arm, slings it around an armored shoulder. A Royal Guardsman. "Let's go," he grunts, and Katara recognizes the gravelly burr of that voice.
Zuko.
He takes off running. He's fast, but with Aang's weight, it isn't enough. Katara chances a glance back over her shoulder as she shadows Zuko's footsteps. The princess is ten yards behind them, Mai and Ty Lee at her flanks. Mai sends knives spinning through the air; Katara darts low to protect Aang, as the prince deflects them with an expert flick of his sword. She leans down to lift Aang to his feet again, but it's too late. Azula is on them.
"Let us go," Zuko snarls, his sword wavering threateningly. "Let us leave, and you can have your stupid regime."
At the sound of Zuko's voice, Mai's eyes go wide; the second set of knives she has readied between her fingers drop to the ground.
But his sister ignores his sword, jutting one hip out and adopting a surprised expression. "Zuko. So glad you could join us; I was so sure we wouldn't be seeing you again. Father was broken-hearted. Did you hear his speech?"
A figure marches slowly through a red cloud of dust and dirt. Every nerve ending, every emotion in Katara's body feels like its being struck by Azula's lightning; dancing wildly, out of control, energy forking in every direction. She clutches Aang tighter. Ozai's steps are soft, almost leisurely. His robes are still flawless; dry again, somehow, and not a hair out of place. He's not even breathing hard. He eyes Katara, Aang, and Zuko, like they're insects he'll squash quickly. A disgusting inconvenience.
"This ends here," he announces firmly.
Katara waits for another speech. Another opportunity for him to wax eloquent on how the Red Lotus is going to triumph; why Aang's death- and Katara's, and Zuko's, too- is inevitable. But it doesn't come. He stares coldly, stock-still, until his hands flash outward in a circle, faster than Katara can track, and then she is surrounded by bright, white light.
She can't hear, she can't see, she can't think. There's pain, but not what she was expecting. Not the violent, searing pain of electricity coursing through her body. A deep rumbling instead, like she's been seized by huge fist and is being shaken within an inch of her life. She hugs Aang tighter and screams hoarsely against the pain, her face buried into the crook of his neck.
It takes another blinding moment- she can feel her bones rattling in her body- for her to understand. It's him.
He's lost control, she realizes when he begins to lift into the air, her arms sliding helplessly away from his shoulders. The vengeful spirit, like the Fire Sages wanted, all those weeks ago. Wild, uncontrolled. The courtyard judders furiously- great spires of the palace collapse in a deafening tumble. Slabs of stone slam against one other, cracking and splitting and sending civilians and soldiers alike fleeing for shelter from the Avatar's wrath. His eyes, blinding white, shift to Ozai, and the expression on his face contorts with rage. His manacled hands raise to strike, and Ozai cowers.
The ground stops shaking. Pebbles and stones and clouds of dirt hover in the air- but the courtyard falls eerily silent. Aang's eyes are still white- still blinding- but his hands lower slowly down again.
The earth stills; Azula moves. Lightning leaps from her fingertips. Katara tears water through a crack in the earth wide enough for Appa to sail through and crashes it over the princess. She twists with all her strength, flinging Azula away and sending her careening across the courtyard. Azula strikes a pillar with the sound of crunching metal, and falls to the ground, still. When Katara turns back to Aang, his eyes are turned skyward, brows furrowed in confusion. A shadow appears above them- like a huge stone, descending rapidly to the ground.
She closes her eyes. The earth rumbles, one last time, a cloud of dust sailing outward. It settles slowly. Outlines in red the hulking, enraged form of Appa, roaring defiantly and sending the soldiers and Fire Lord alike fleeing in the opposite direction.
a/n: one more chapter, and then we're done :) sorry for the delay, you guys. life catches up sometimes *shrugs*