Book 4: Light and Darkness

by ButtonPusherExtraordinaire

Air's murder was a symptom. The Great War was over, but the Greater War endured. The Realms are imbalanced, and Air's loss is but a sign. Years after Sozin's Comet, The Avatar's most ancient enemy reminds The Avatar of his existence. Lies and truths are disordered as the roots are infected from the chaos, to which The Avatar was ignorant. Things must change. The cycle must end. AU!

11. Trial

Thanks for the feedback, everyone! I really appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Start over. Do it again."

Samir huffed because she was tired, and she stared up at Aang hopefully. "Can I do it later? I'm tired."

Aang was tall, and he was taller than before! He seemed big and bigger! It was like he was his own shadow! "No, we started a few minutes ago. Do it again. I know you can do it."

He always believed in her! It was so amazing; it was better than what anyone else ever did for her. But Aang believed in her, and she believed in herself because he believed in her. So, she breathed in and out, trying to make each breath the same like she saw Aang do and show her.

"You're breathing wrong," Aang said again, moving his arms to the sides of his chest before he breathed in and out like he had showed her so many times already. But she was already breathing! She knew how to breathe! She'd been breathing ever since she was born!

But every time she said she knew how to breathe, Aang shook his head and said that she had to master the source.

What did that mean?

"No, Samir," Aang said, watching her breathing—or was he feeling it? "Do it like this."

He showed her how to do it again, but it was the same thing!

Samir's hands swung at her sides. "I am doing it. I'm breathing!"

Azula was close by, watching; she stood near Aang. But she said something quietly to Aang that Samir couldn't hear and walked towards her; she always liked how Azula walked. It was almost like Azula was an Airbender with how she walked; she wanted to walk like Azula did.

She loved Azula a lot; she loved Aang a lot, too! She wanted to ask them if they would be her mommy and daddy, but she didn't feel brave enough to ask. She couldn't handle it if they said no—because she really wanted them to be her mommy and daddy. She loved them!

Azula got on her knees in front of her and held out her hands. "Here," Azula said; she always sounded so calm and amazing. Samir wanted to be able to talk like Azula did. "Stand in between my hands."

Samir jumped in between Azula's hands and giggled when Azula pressed her hands against her chest and back. "That tickles!" she said while trying to squirm away.

Azula did that smirking thing she always did a lot. "Soon, only the wind will be able to tickle you. You shall be too fast for anyone to catch you and tickle you."

She gasped and looked at Aang. "Really?"

But Aang didn't look happy; he looked almost mad. "Yes," he said, but his voice was soft.

Samir didn't understand.

"Breathe like this," Azula said, hand pressing gently into her back before her other hand on her chest pressed gently, going back and forth. "It is a rhythm; it is connected. One breath cannot exist without the one before it and the one after it. It is a cycle, which has its source in the rhythm of connection. It must flow; it must be smooth. Do it with me; do it with my hands. Breathe with my hands."

Slowly, Samir breathed in and out when Azula's hands pressed on her chest and back, going back and forth. It was like how the waters in the fountain went back and forth; it started on one side and went to the other; it was like how the wind went one way before it went the other. It was amazing to feel it. It was kind of like that Air Nomad song that Guru Pathik taught her how to hum while Aang and Azula were in what Toph and Guru Pathik said was called the Spirit World for so long.

Aang was really happy when she hummed that song for him when he and Azula got back, and it was amazing when he hummed it with her because the air got heavy! It was like there were Airbenders in the sky pushing down on her body, telling her to be strong and jump up with them into the sky and be an Airbender like all of them.

Then Aang humming became Aang singing, and the air got so much lighter! It was like the air was getting tired of him humming, getting heavier or like Samir felt when she had to use the bathroom and really—really, really!—had to go, and waiting for him to sing. And when he started to sing, all the heaviness was gone, and it was really light!

She wanted to sing like that.

"Like this?" she asked, feeling her breathing become the same as the way Azula's hands showed her to.

Azula nodded. "Yes, well done."

She leaned forward, closer to Azula's face; Azula always smelled nice—really, really nicer than Toph. "But it feels the same as before," she whispered in Azula's ear, trying not to look at Aang who stood in front of them but still far away. "It's the same thing. It's still stupid."

Azula almost sounded like Toph when she laughed quietly; it was like a sniff after sneezing. "You will learn awareness. Do not worry."

"What does that mean?" she asked, pouting. "Awareness? What's that?"

"Awareness is born of instinct and control; it's all connected," Aang said, coming closer, and Samir wanted to stay between Azula's hands.

His eyes were always so pretty, but why weren't they as bright as they usually were? Why did his eyes—they were the same color as hers!—look different?

Was she doing something wrong?

She didn't want to do something wrong! She wanted to be an Airbender! She wanted to do what Aang did! She wanted to be like him! She had tried bending the other elements like he did, but she could only do Air. But that was okay. Air was so much fun! And it was always fun when Aang threw her off the temple and caught her.

Why couldn't they do that again? Why did they have to keep training and meditating? Meditating was stupid, and even though she knew stupid was a bad word—at least it was bad from what Aang said; Azula sometimes laughed when she said it; and Toph high-fived her and said it showed that she was tough—she knew meditating was stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Why was Aang meaner when they meditated? He wasn't fun anymore! Why couldn't he be fun? He was funner than anyone she'd ever met before! Why couldn't they go into the fountain and dunk each other? Why couldn't they gang up on Azula and make her all wet? Why couldn't they throw Azula and Toph and Guru Pathik off the temple and go and catch them?

"Now do it again, Samir," Aang said, and his voice was different; it was like his voice was the same as his eyes now. She didn't like it; it scared her.

Why was he being mean? Did he think she was gross again?

She didn't want him to be mad! She wanted him to be happy and laugh! She wanted him to love her! She wanted him to be her daddy!

"Do I have to?" she asked, looking down at her feet; it was weird wearing the wraps around her feet because she was always barefoot in Ba Sing Se, but she liked having the wraps—they were like brown and purple put together!—on her feet. It made her look more like how Aang looked.

She liked that.

"Yes," Aang said. "Do it again. Close your eyes, center yourself, breathe, and feel Air. It's basic meditation; it's the only way to manifest- "

"But it's boring!" she said, pouting. "Why can't we play?"

She liked playing. Playing was fun, and Aang was fun when they played. He was never mean when they played. And it was even more fun to poke Toph in the back and run away! And it was fun to hear Azula laugh while Toph chased after her—and just before Toph caught her, Aang was there, picked her up, and jumped over Toph, running in the other direction so amazingly fast!

She always won all the games, especially poking Toph in the back and not getting caught, because Aang was always on her side. But Aang wasn't on her side now, and she didn't like it! She hated it!

It made her want to cry.

"We'll play after you meditate and manifest your awareness," Aang said, voice sounding meaner. "This is simple. It's the easiest part of being an Airbender- "

Azula stepped away really fast and grabbed Aang's arm. "Aang, enough."

But Aang kept looking at her with his angry eyes, and she didn't like it! What did she do wrong? She did just what he told her to do! She did everything! She even did that stupid thing and blinked twice before she 'felt the Air'! Why couldn't she do it like Aang? Why did nothing happen? When Aang showed her how to do it, it was amazing! He breathed, and all the air around them danced and sang; it swirled like the water in the fountain when they played, brushing against her arms and through her hair; it lifted her off her feet and made her fly!

She wanted to fly again! She wanted to make her and Aang fly like Aang made her and him fly! But she couldn't! She couldn't do any of it right!

She was a stupid Airbender, not a smart Airbender like Aang!

But she didn't want to be stupid! She hated being stupid! Being stupid was stupid!

"This is not working," Azula said, looking up at Aang in a way Samir had never seen before.

Aang laughed, but it wasn't how his laugh always sounded; it sounded mean, and Samir didn't like it because it scared her. "I know that better than you; I know that better than anyone! I knew this was going to happen! I knew it! The moment Pathik started his nonsense, I knew it! This was always going to be the result! She's not listening to me! She can't even do the easiest thing possible!"

"I'm trying!" Samir said, feeling really hurt that Aang was mad at her; she felt tears in her eyes, but she tried not to let them fall. Nobody in Ba Sing Se ever liked it when she cried. She wouldn't cry again.

But she wanted to.

"Not well enough," Aang said, looking back at her. "You're an Airbender now, which comes with a responsibility that you must adhere to. This is bigger than anything you'll ever do in your life! I know you're limited because you're less than even a half-spawn, but you have to be able to do this! It's easy! There's nothing easier!"

Samir's tears began to fall out of her eyes. "I'm sorry!"

"I know you are, and I'm even sorrier that I knew this would be the stupid result of this whole stupid thing!" Aang gripped his head between his hands, almost spinning. "What was even the point of this? I knew this would happen!"

"A break is needed," Azula said, looking at Aang in a way that made Samir think she was mad, but it was hard to tell. But with Aang it was easy to tell. She liked Azula's way better.

Aang looked at Azula really quickly, and he looked meaner. "We just had a break- "

"You need a break."

"You need to stay out of this. This has nothing to do with you."

Azula looked mean now, and Samir stared at her in shock. She didn't think that Azula could ever look mean! "Aang," Azula said, voice low and angry. "You need to go- "

Aang's eyes widened before he looked meaner, staring at Azula with his angry, mean gray eyes. "Go? This is my home! Who are you to tell me to 'go'? You don't ever dare tell me to 'go' in my own home!" He stepped closer to Azula, and Samir felt scared as the air became tight like a hug—but too tight! It was like when she hung on to Aang when they went flying—squeezing as hard as she could. And it was squeezing her and Azula. It felt hard to breathe! "Who are you to ever tell me what to do here? This is my place, not yours! I'm Samir's mentor, not you! You know nothing- "

"Air teaches that wisdom comes from princes and peasants alike. Heed my wisdom, Aang—you need a break."

"Take your own advice," Aang said, waving his hand, and Samir watched with wide eyes as Azula slid to the other side of the courtyard from a powerful gust of wind. "You're ruining training. Samir needs to meditate. This is easiest thing in the world, and she can't even do that! She's not going to do anything else until she starts doing it right!"

Samir didn't know what to do! She didn't want Aang and Azula to fight, but they were staring at each other with anger.

"No. Samir needs a break from you," Azula said, marching towards Aang from across the courtyard with her golden eyes narrowed and determined. Samir didn't understand how Azula didn't feel scared, especially with Aang's mean eyes. Is that how Aang looked in Ba Sing Se before everything died? "You think you are teaching her, but if you continue your adamance, you will ruin her before you teach her. Is this how Gyatso taught you?"

Aang threw his hands in the air. "Yes!"

"Then he was a bigger fool than you."

Samir would have laughed at the look on Aang's face if she didn't feel so scared; he looked like one of the other orphans at the orphanage who made a funny face after eating something gross.

Aang stepped towards Azula, something dark on his mean face. "You can call me anything you want—I don't care—but you will never call Gyatso anything but genius, kind, and wise."

"You are only one of those things at this moment," Azula said fearlessly, glaring up at Aang. "You resemble Father more than anyone I have ever encountered, including Zuko."

Samir jumped when Aang flinched and the ground cracked under his feet. "No. That's not- "

"It is the truth. Take a break. Prove me wrong, Avatar. Father never took breaks."

Aang's face stretched like it did when he laughed after she tried to dunk him in the fountain, but it was wrong; it was stretched the wrong way! But then he vanished down the hall so fast that she couldn't even see him leave.

She whimpered and swiped at her tears. "I wanna do that! Why can't I do it? Why? I'm an Airbender, right?"

Azula watched her for what felt like a really, really long time before she sat on the edge of the fountain; she patted the spot next to her, and Samir dutifully sat down next to her. She nestled into Azula's side, feeling how warm she was; it was really nice. Azula didn't do anything until she placed a shy hand on her side, fingers wrapping across.

"You are an Airbender, Samir," Azula said, and her voice was calm and soft; it was better than Aang's voice when he was angry.

"He's mad at me," she whispered into Azula's side; it felt safe. "I don't like him being mad at me. I don't want him to be."

"Nor do I," Azula said. "However, the source of his anger is not you; it is himself."

Samir's face scrunched. "What does that mean?"

"I do not think he knows how to help you."

She gasped, pulling back and looking up at Azula with wide eyes. "But he's The Avatar. He's the best! He's the smartest!"

Azula's smile was small. "Sometimes, even the best stumble and fall; sometimes, the best cannot relate to anyone else."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Not everything makes sense."

"But that doesn't make sense, too!"

"Your bending struggles are not new, Samir- "

"Aang doesn't think so," she whispered, feeling like how she felt in the orphanage. Some of the other kids called her a whore's reject. Now she was The Avatar's reject. "I'm trying. Why can't he see that?"

Azula sighed. "He does see that you try. That is the problem. He sees that you try to so hard and passionately, so eagerly and enthusiastically, but he knows, deep down, that he cannot help you—for he has never needed to help anyone in his life but himself."

Samir didn't understand. "But he's The Avatar. Doesn't he help the world? I thought that's what The Avatar does."

"He has never had to help someone for something so personal and intimate- "

"What does that mean?"

Azula sighed and was quiet again for a long time before she spoke. "He is realizing that he does not have certain talents that he thought he did. Saving the world does not require talent beyond his genius, strength, and power. Training you requires something a lot more focused, a talent he has yet to manifest—though I know he possesses it."

Samir didn't understand, but she nodded anyway; it's what Toph told her to do when Aang was going on and on about stupid stuff. It should work for Azula. "But when will I get better? I want him to like me- "

"He does like you- "

"I want him to be proud of me; I want him to love me like he used to, like when I first became an Airbender, and he was so happy."

She sniffed and wiped away her tears. Nobody had ever been happy with her like Aang was; nobody had ever looked at her like Aang did—like she mattered.

But now she messed it up because she was stupid and gross.

Azula's hand was tighter on her side, but it didn't hurt; it felt good. "He is proud of you, Samir; he loves you like no one alive. He would die for you without thought. But he is so proud of you that he expects you to be like him."

"But I wanna be like him! He's amazing!"

And he was so fun! He was the funnest person she'd ever met! Everyone else was so boring! Even Toph and Azula! Toph didn't like dunking in the fountain! And Azula told her to always play with Aang when she asked her to push her off the temple!

Azula's hand lifted her chin until their eyes were close to each other; Azula had pretty eyes. They weren't pretty like Aang's eyes, but they were really nice. She'd never seen eyes like Azula's before in Ba Sing Se. She hadn't seen eyes like Toph's, too, but Toph's eyes were weird; they looked like milk. When she asked Toph if they smelled like milk and tried to get close enough to smell them, she was chased down the hall, and Toph sounded like the platypus bear in the zoo in Ba Sing Se with all her yelling.

"You cannot be Aang," Azula said. "Nor should you be. You should be you, Samir. You are the student, and the student is always more important than the master."

Samir frowned. "But that's not what everyone said in Ba Sing Se- "

Azula waved a hand, and Samir needed to remember to start doing that; she liked it. "Ba Sing Se was full of peasants; they knew nothing."

Her eyes went wide. "Even King Kuei?"

Azula's smile was a different kind of smile; it looked sharp like Appa's teeth. "Especially King Kuei. No one in Ba Sing Se could ever understand this, Samir, but you will, for you are special; you are the student of The Avatar. It will merely take The Avatar time to adjust." Azula leaned in closer with that smirk that Samir came to recognize as safe and kind. "The Avatar is as much a student in this as you are."

She didn't think so and looked down at her hands; they were small next to Azula's hands; they were small but clean next to Toph's hands; they looked small and normal next to Pathik's hands; and they were tiny, tiny, tiny—really, really tiny!—next to Aang's hands. "But I'm still stupid at airbending. I don't wanna be."

"My brother had trouble learning firebending."

"Really?"

"Yes, and he is the Fire Lord now. That is how far he has come."

Samir gasped, eyes wide. "The Fire Lord?"

Nobody liked the Fire Lord in Ba Sing Se; everyone called him mean names and said he was ugly. Everyone said the Fire Lord was evil and burned people! Everyone said the Fire Lord would grab her by the hair and eat her if he ever saw her! Everyone said he had a big, huge, large scar on his face!

She swallowed and looked at Azula; she felt scared. "Is he really ugly?"

For some reason, Azula laughed. "I have always thought so, yes. Though, my opinion is worthless. My mother always said Zuko was a beautiful boy, and I suppose she is correct. Thinking of my brother in such a way disgusts me. He is Zuko to me, nothing more, nothing less."

"Does he have a big, ugly scar on his face?" she asked, feeling less scared. If Azula wasn't scared of her brother, she didn't need to be, too. "Everyone says he does."

"He does."

"How'd he get it?"

Azula's smile looked like one of Aang's when he thought she wasn't looking at him; it looked sad. "A man you must never meet hurt him."

Samir blinked. "I didn't think the Fire Lord could get hurt."

"My brother was not always the Fire Lord."

"Does that mean you're the Fire Lady- "

Azula's laugh was louder, and the sound of it made Samir laugh, too. "I would let you push me off the temple if I were the Fire Lady. The thought disgusts me."

Samir stared up at her hopefully. "Can you be Fire Lady, then, please?"

She smirked and patted the side of her head. "I am the Fire Princess."

Her eyes went wide again, and she stared up at Azula in awe. "You're a princess?"

"The Fire Princess," Azula said, nodding her head. "The best princess. Certainly better than the Water Princess."

Samir tried to remember if she had ever seen a crown on Azula's head, but she couldn't think of one. She looked at her with confusion. "But you don't have a crown. I thought princesses have crowns."

Azula shrugged the shoulder she was nestled into, and she moved with the shrug before she went back to her normal position. "If a princess must need a crown to identify her, she is no princess."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Because you are not a princess."

"But I wanna be a princess!"

Azula smiled. "It is something you inherit from your lineage. Perhaps you can be the Air Princess once you master airbending."

Samir gasped. "Do you think Aang will let me?"

By the look on Azula's face, she didn't think Aang would let her. "Time will tell. If my brother sires a daughter, my title will be lost, and it will transfer to my niece."

"Is your brother mean?"

"He would never be mean to you. I would shoot lightning at him if he attempted it."

Samir giggled, even though she didn't think Azula could shoot lightning. "But then you'd be mean!"

Azula did that smirking thing again. "Sacrifices must be made, Samir."

"Are you gonna shoot lightning at Aang because he's being mean to me?"

She didn't want Azula to shoot lightning at Aang. Lightning sounded really cool but scary. She still wasn't sure if Azula could shoot lightning, but Toph called Azula 'Lightning Psycho,' and Aang never said anything or got mad at Toph when she called Azula that. Because Aang would yell at Toph if she insulted Azula, and Toph would stick her tongue out. But when Samir would start to stick her tongue out, too, Aang would tell her to meditate as punishment.

There was a weird look on Azula's face, and her voice sounded different. "Why?"

Samir swallowed. "I know he's been mean to me, but it's not his fault- "

"It is his fault," Azula said immediately. "And he is frustrated because he knows it is his fault. There is no fault with you. The problem lies in the novelty of- "

"What does that mean?"

"The problem lies in Aang being new at this. He has never been at fault when it comes to bending- "

Samir frowned. "But Toph said he stunk worse than a badgermole's poop when he started earthbending."

Azula shook her head. "He stunk for a single day before he understood it and accelerated his focus and stride. He has never been at fault when it comes to bending, as in he has never failed when he applied himself with understanding. You try to do it correctly and understand well enough—that much is clear to me—but you fail, and that failure is his fault because he is a bad teacher. Before, the fault in teaching always lied in others for Aang; now the fault lies in himself. He must adjust."

"So, you're not gonna shoot lightning at him?"

Azula's eyes were still pretty, but they looked dark; they looked kind of like Aang's eyes when he talked about Gyatso, which only happened one time.

Samir learned that she was never supposed to ask him about Gyatso.

"Of course not," Azula said, and it was weird because there was a promise—and it sounded like something else, too—in her voice that she had never heard. "Never."

Samir believed her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Zuko watched in the shadows as Katara practiced in front of the pond in the royal garden, movements graceful and soothing to his vision. He didn't remember granting her permission to be in the royal garden by herself, but he found that he didn't care; he also found it likely that Uncle undermined him and granted her access without him knowing, going behind his back. Or maybe it was Mother.

For the first time in weeks, he was free of intensive meetings discussing the state of the Earth Kingdom and the mystery of The Avatar's location; he went to the royal gardens to feed the turtle ducks and find solace in his solitude but stumbled upon Katara practicing her waterbending. Instead of moving on and possibly avoiding a conversation with her, he stayed, lingering; his eyes refused to look elsewhere as the water from the pond swirled around her beautiful body.

As she moved the water around, stretching into the bending forms of waterbending, he didn't know what to do. His anger at her, which was once so explosive, was muted; he found it hard to be angry at her, and he really tried to be angry! He tried to provoke his anger intentionally, thinking about how she disappointed him and dropped contact for years, how she hurt him with her disregard, reciting her cruel judgments against Azula, but nothing worked. He never realized it was happening, but she had cooled his anger towards her—and he didn't know how!

It was insane and infuriating!

Why couldn't things be simple?

He should walk up to her and demand answers, as the Fire Lord should, but he didn't have the will to stop her waterbending, to stop her twisting arms that sliced through the air in harmony with the water. She had no right looking as beautiful as she did, but he couldn't look away; he liked that she looked as beautiful as she did; he loved it.

But he disliked that he loved it—or, at least, he should! His fury should be stronger than ever, especially since she seemed so understanding and reasonable, making herself seem perfect, but his fury dwindled, and he could barely find it unless he was actively, deliberately looking for it!

Why?

"If I were anyone else, I'd say this is creepy," Katara suddenly called out, causing him to tense; her back was to him, but he knew her beautiful blue eyes glimmered like the water she held in the air. "What would people think of the Fire Lord watching me from the shadows?"

Zuko was quiet for several moments, debating whether to leave, pretend he was never there and force Katara to pretend, too, but his feet answered his ruminations—he approached her, softly crunching the familiarly trimmed grass in the royal garden. When he stood next to her, he didn't look at her; he looked at the water she held—but regretted it when he saw her reflection therein.

He could never win, could he?

"You should hear some of the legends about my forefathers," he commented idly. "I don't think you'd think I'm creepy if you heard what some of them did."

Katara turned to him, curious, and he couldn't help himself as he turned to face her, eyes roaming her beautiful face. "What did they do?"

It occurred to him that if he confessed of the madness in his lineage, he might scare her off and make her revert to hating him; it would be better than all the confusion he felt! Thus, he pressed on: "Several kidnapped prominent noblewomen and married them to boost the prestige of the lineage, producing renowned children. It's said that Kai marched across the Fire Nation and waged war by himself against the last tribe of Sun Warriors, the powerful clan that resisted the Unification. This last tribe was led by a powerful chief wed to an equally powerful chiefess. Kai razed the tribe, killed the chief, and took the chiefess for his own and married her, siring by her his heir. She attempted to assassinate him after the birth of his heir, and it's said he threw her into one of the volcanoes—no one knows which one—as a sacrifice to Agni for daring to assassinate his chosen ruler. Then there are stories of princes who, in their impatient waiting for the Dragon's Throne, would sneak into the houses of the nobility and watch the women undress, sometimes watching them sleep. If the woman was beautiful, the prince would join her in bed and demand her loyalty to her future Fire Lord."

However, Katara didn't look disgusted; she looked thoughtful and even interested! "Are these legends or facts?"

Zuko's only brow rose. "Every legend contains truth. The events might be distorted, but the theme is true. The poets love the legend of Kai and His Conquered Chiefess. You're lucky you haven't heard one of them rhapsodize about it. Also don't ask my mother; she'll rhapsodize about it if you bring it up."

Katara laughed, and it was a pleasant sound; he wanted to hear more of her laughter. "Really?"

"Mother loves the arts," he muttered. "She loves the epic romances, of which Kai and His Conquered Chiefess is one of the paramounts." He rolled his eyes as he remembered Mother and Azula discussing it many times during dinner before Grandfather's murder. There were even times Grandfather took part in the discussion. Zuko never knew whether to be amazed or disgusted. "Apparently, it's a tragedy. But I think it's fucking stupid."

She smiled and shook her head. "Maybe it's both."

He glared at her half-heartedly. "Something tells me you're more on their side than mine."

"It depends if it's a legend or fact," Katara said after several moments. "Or it depends which events are real or sensationalized. I assume it's a play."

"It is," he admitted.

"When all this is over, I'll have to see it and decide for myself. Maybe Kai wasn't creepy like you think."

Zuko sighed and thought of all the times he had spied on others, particularly as the Blue Spirit. "I'm creepy. The creepiness has to come from somewhere."

Katara's eyes were amused. "I don't think you're creepy. Rough around the edges, yes, but creepy, no."

He felt doubtful. "Azula says I'm creepy."

"And you believe her?"

"I have no reason to doubt that claim."

She patted his arm briefly, and it felt nice. "Yes, you do." Suddenly, she noticed the loaf of bread tucked in the crook of his arm on his other side and paused. "Am I interrupting your time with the turtle ducks?"

He blinked, surprised. "You know about that?"

"Your mom told me."

Zuko resisted the urge to groan. "Of course, she did."

"Your uncle also said something."

He gave up and groaned. "Of course, he did."

"And Azula said so, too."

Zuko stared at her, baffled. "What?"

At that, Katara laughed again, and her face stretched with the force of her amusement. "No, she didn't say that; that was a lie. I couldn't resist; I wanted to see the look on your face. But do you want me to leave you alone with the turtle ducks?"

Now was his chance to tell Katara to leave him so he could be free of her!

"No, stay," he said, instead—and of course, that's what he said! "You can feed them with me."

Katara beamed and sat in front of the pond; her gown looked soft to touch. "Come on, Fire Lord. I won't bite," she teased, a twinkle in her blue eyes as she patted the spot next to her.

Zuko rolled his eyes and sat down next to her—closer than he should have as he felt the warmth of her body, which didn't help. "Here you go," he muttered as he broke the loaf in half and gave her the smaller part. "Do small pieces of bread. You don't want them to choke."

She nodded and followed his instructions, dropping several flecks into the pond, which the turtle ducks ate swiftly. "There's nothing in the South like these," she whispered after several moments, watching the turtle ducks with an expression on her face he couldn't decipher—not that he was looking at her face. No, he was staring straight ahead, not looking at her—at least, that's what he should be doing! "There's so much in the Fire Nation that I never imagined. Don't get me wrong—I love my tribe. I spent years helping rebuild because I needed to, and I loved rebuilding, literally healing my tribe that suffered so much scarring and horror from the War. And I guess it was my duty, too, not only as one of the most powerful Waterbenders or as the last true Southern-born Waterbender but as the Princess of the South." She cringed, glancing at him with an apology in her eyes. "I don't like that title, even though I understand its use; I've never thought of myself as my tribe's princess. But I know I am—it's taken some adjustment."

"No wonder you and Azula don't get along," he drawled. "When we were kids, there wasn't a day that went by without Azula mentioning that she was Fire's princess, especially as we got older." He cleared his throat and adjusted his voice. "'How can you not see, Zuzu? I must be our princess in all ways, and I must resemble the image that people have in their minds when they think of our princess. If you were as smart as me, you would do the same thing, Prince Zuzu. It is our survival. I am Princess Azula of Fire, and you are Prince Zuko of Fire. Will we meet our destinies or not? Will we be as we should?' I never understood what she was talking about until I was older."

Katara smiled. "That's a good impression."

Zuko shrugged. "I grew up with her, and I would mock her to her face and behind her back as we got older. I got good at it. But if you want, I won't call you Princess Katara anymore."

She shook her head. "No, it's alright. I need to get used to it. I am the South's princess, and I've accepted that. Being engaged to Kuei really made me see it for the first time."

He didn't like the reminder of her being engaged to Kuei, and he knew why he didn't like the reminder, which irritated him. "I'm glad you got to rebuild your home," he said instead, voice softer than he wanted. "It's important. Maybe I always knew that and didn't want to disturb your efforts by sending a message or anything—I don't know. Maybe I knew you were rebuilding your family, and I was bitter and jealous that you had a family to rebuild while I had nothing—only something broken and irreparable, especially then. I had an imprisoned father who hated me, an insane sister who didn't see me half the time, a vanished mother who was nowhere, and a tea-serving uncle in Ba Sing Se." Zuko nodded, feeling worn; he refused to look at her. "I was jealous that you had your brother, father, grandmother, and sister-in-law—and so many more who you could trust, who you knew weren't plotting your death with assassins. I was jealous of how good you had it—how you had everything you wanted and how everything seemed to work out for you from where I was standing. I hated you for a long time because of it, and I interpreted you dropping contact as confirmation that I never mattered—that I was simply the weapon in your eyes that my father always wanted me to be."

Katara swallowed. "I'm sorry you thought that, and I'm sorry that I did nothing to counter that or make you think otherwise."

He snorted. "Even if you did something to make me think otherwise, I'm not sure I would have thought otherwise. As you know, I'm stubborn once I've made my mind up, and I made my mind up about you."

Her lips stretched in a trembling smile as her blues eyes misted slightly. "Thank you for not being too stubborn now to not rethink what you've made your mind up about."

"It wasn't for a lack of trying," Zuko muttered.

"I noticed."

He let a silence fall over them for several long moments. "I thought this was going to be a nightmare, you all being here," he said finally, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "And it was at first."

Her face revealed sadness. "I remember."

"But it's gotten better," Zuko continued, feeling mystified. "I don't know how—I don't know why. It doesn't make sense. But it happened all the same. I don't hate you being here now."

In fact, he was starting to dangerously like having her around—and Sokka and Suki, but to a lesser degree.

Katara smiled. "I like being here. There's so much in the Fire Nation that I never imagined. The world is a big place, and I think I forgot that fact when I stayed in the South, and if I go back after all of this, I think I'll forget again. But I don't want to forget, and I don't know if I can go back to the South. I mean, I love it, and I'll visit a lot, but I won't live there. Does that make sense?"

He felt confused but nodded. "Yes."

Katara nodded back, face vivid. "There's always been something missing for me in the South. I want to do something bigger; I want to make a difference and do something that helps not only my tribe but the world. And I think I'm old enough and mature enough now to handle it. I wasn't after the War ended, but I am now. I mean, during the War, I wasn't only doing it for my tribe; I was doing it for the whole world."

Zuko glanced at her, cautious. "Even for Fire?"

She glanced at him like he was insane. "Of course, for Fire! Everyone needed the War to end, and Fire suffered as much as anyone. It took me a while to see that, I'll admit, but it was so obvious once we stayed in the Fire Nation after Ba Sing Se fell. And, unfortunately, everyone still needs help, and everyone's going to need help after this new war ends. But this time, I want to be part of the healing after the war is over. I don't want it to be like last time where I went home. I want to play a big part in helping people—helping the world."

He felt even more confused. "What are you saying?"

"Maybe I could stay with you after all this is over, at least for a little while," she rushed out, watching his face; there was an anxious hope on her features. "I think it would be good for me—maybe be good for both of us. We could help the world heal."

He could tell she was insinuating something beneath her obvious honesty in wanting to help the world heal, but he had no idea what the insinuation was; he thought his extensive experience with Azula's games would have prepared him for something like this, but he had no ideas.

Damn.

He could hear Azula in his head: "Silly, Zuzu," she said with a laugh. "She is trying to tell you something. Use your intelligence—not that you have much to use—and figure it out. I would figure it out instantly."

Zuko stole one of the tiny pieces of bread for himself to distract—and buy himself time. "Are you sure? I'm sure there's a lot more in the South now since you helped rebuild all of it. You could help heal the world from there if you wanted."

At the expression on Katara's face, he knew he failed to comprehend her insinuation; he almost threw the loaf of bread at her in response. But that would be childish. The Fire Lord couldn't be childish, no matter what some of the legends about Fire Lord Zyrn described.

"That's true," she said slowly, brows furrowing; he had no idea what it meant. "I grew up there, and I stayed there after the War, but I'm not going to live there. I want to live here, where I can make a difference and help people—I can heal the world, kind of. It's become really clear to me that Fire and Earth are the two biggest political players and will be for the rest of our generation, at least. I can't help the people I need to by being in the South, which is so far away and isolated, not touched by everything that so many people are. I don't want to live in the South, Zuko. I realize that now."

He stared at her in disbelief. "And you want to live here?"

"Yes."

"Because you want to make a difference?"

"Yes."

"Then why not live on the continent? They have more problems than we have here."

She stared at him evenly. "I like the Fire Nation better. I want to live here."

Zuko frowned, thinking rapidly, and there was only one conclusion he could draw about why she would not want to live in the South. "Have too many people migrated from the North, compromising the amount of viable space? You could always expand the territory of the tribe. That way, you could have space and produce more ports, allowing for more messages between you and everyone else, making the South less isolated."

Katara blinked before laughing slightly, surprised. "No, no. There's already plenty of space in the South. What I've realized is that there's a lot more in the world than what's in the South; there's a lot more in the Fire Nation than what's in the South."

"More idiots, you mean," he muttered. "Not a single person in the South would welcome my father's return; most, if not all, of the nobility here would welcome his return."

She sighed but nodded. "Yes, but that's not what I mean. I want to be here after all this is over."

Zuko tossed a bigger piece of bread into the pond than usual, but the quickest turtle duck swallowed it with no problems. "What do you mean?"

"I spoke with your mom- "

He straightened and looked at her, something cautious brewing inside him. What was Mother up to? It better not be what he suspected! "You're speaking with my mother?"

Katara ducked her head. "Yes. She's told me so many things about Fire and politics, and how it all influences other things—how it even influences others, like Water and Earth."

He didn't understand how it was such a revelation for Katara because such a thing had always been painfully obvious to him. "It does," he confirmed.

"And I was thinking I could help you."

Zuko's only brow pinched. "Help?"

She stared back at him. "It seems like you need it."

He watched her, assessing her face before he realized she was serious. "I've done everything on my own so far, and I can do it again. I don't need help."

Something sad but determined flashed in her blue eyes. "I know. But it doesn't mean you couldn't use the help. I think I can help you. I want to make a difference. I healed my tribe as best I could, and I can't do anything more for my tribe—I see that. But I can heal the world by living here."

Zuko's confusion rose to new levels. "By living here, in the Caldera, with me, you mean."

Katara nodded. "Yes. Your mom thinks it's a good plan."

His eyes fluttered shut as he groaned. "Of course, she does."

"She said it makes a lot of sense," Katara continued, watching him with an amused smile. "And since I'm the South's princess, it will be good for relations and help the world see that healing is possible."

Zuko stilled because Katara couldn't be suggesting what he thought she suggested. It sounded just like Mother to try to advance a marriage to him born of a powerful political alliance to a girl he had already stupidly admitted to her whom he saw himself falling in love with.

His jaw ticked. "You would want to be an advisor to me, right? Is that what you're saying?"

Katara beamed. "Yes. I want to help the world, and I trust you more than anyone else to help the world."

He felt uncomfortable. "That's a lot of trust."

"You deserve it," she commended, eyes awed slightly. "You kept the world from falling into this new war for eight years. You gave the world eight years of peace when, I see now, that none of the nobility across the races wanted it. It was your will that kept the peace."

Zuko snorted. "Don't forget Aang. It was his will that kept the peace."

"It was you and Aang," Katara said. "But unlike Aang, you understood everything that was happening and what was at stake—or learned to understand it swiftly."

He nodded in agreement. "He had his own problems to understand."

"I know. It was you who kept the peace and gave the world peace—gave healing. And you never wanted this new war. Kuei provoked and provoked, and it was him who declared war, not you. And you let it reach war because you had no other choice—your back was against the fire."

Zuko laughed slightly. "More like the wall of flames, but yes."

Katara scooted closer if it was even possible, and her hand touched his arm. "You did it, Zuko, and I'm in awe that you did. And I want to help you do it again when all this is over."

"As an advisor?"

She nodded swiftly. "Yes. I want to help."

Zuko watched her for a long time, memorizing her hopeful but determined face—her beautiful face—before looking away with a sigh. "I'm inclined to accept your offer," he admitted.

Katara smiled. "Thank you."

"It's not official," Zuko warned, glancing at her. "It could change if something happens."

Her smile remained. "I know. But advisor sounds like a good position to me."

At this point, he had no idea if 'advisor' was an insinuation for 'wife' or not. Was everything in his head? Was he misreading the situation? What if her insinuation was something else? What was going on? Why was he being so pathetic? And what was Mother up to?

"And my mom gave her input into this?" he asked carefully, keeping his voice light.

Katara nodded and ducked her head. "She did. She's so wonderful, so kind and genuine. You know, she actually reminds me so much of my own… my mom." She looked back up at him, a soft smile gracing her even softer features. He couldn't find the anger at all inside him, and it produced a panicking sensation when he felt something else, instead—something he had tried furiously to prevent. "I'm really happy that you found her and have had the chance to reconnect with her. I mean, I did feel jealous at first when I discovered that she was alive, that you had found her, but it was nothing compared to how happy I am for you that you get to have this second chance with your mom."

Zuko's lips curled slightly. "Me too," he whispered, thinking back to those years after the Great War when he was most lonely and at the verge of his sanity. He had no one because Aang had needed to leave to complete his Avatar duties, Uncle was in Ba Sing Se, Father was a menace in prison, and Azula was locked in her cell, mind broken. "I didn't have hope, if I'm honest; I didn't think I was ever going to see her again. I began to think she was dead, and I pulled away my spies from looking for her to stop from wasting resources; I sent them to observe Kuei, instead. I could never find her; there was nothing to find. It was hopeless, and I considered planning a private funeral for myself to put her to rest—and put my heart to rest from ever having that hope."

"But then you found her," she finished; she shuffled a little closer, pressing her arm against his own. Zuko didn't mind the contact; he craved more of it.

He nodded faintly, remembering. "I did. It was an accident, and I thought she was someone else, an intruder, a trespasser. She almost killed me."

Katara's eyes bulged, shocked. "What?"

He forced a chuckle to put her at ease; it wasn't hard because he found how he located Mother amusing. "I was the Blue Spirit when I fought her, and it was too dark to see her face at first. She was living in one of my grandfather's estates—which is mine now—and I thought she was an intruder, not a guest."

"Why were you the Blue Spirit?"

"I was planning to spy on some nobles I thought were trying to resurrect the War Machine," he explained slowly. "But when I saw someone enter my grandfather's house—my house—I became distracted. Then I encountered her, and she attacked me; I responded until I realized who she was. But before I could say anything, she kneed me in the groin."

Katara's brows rose, and she looked almost amused. "Really?"

Zuko glared at her half-heartedly. "I wouldn't lie about being hit there. It fucking hurt; I couldn't talk. I had to rip off my mask to show her my face before she killed me. She apologized for hitting me there, but it still hurt a lot."

She nodded, enlightenment in her eyes. "Your mom really is like Azula. She battled the Fire Lord and still lives."

"Yes," he agreed. "But I'm glad I realized it was her. If I hadn't and killed her, I'd never forgive myself; I might have killed myself in shame and horror."

"Something tells me she wouldn't have made it easy to defeat her."

Zuko considered it before agreeing. "Yes. She made my father a better Firebender; she actually trained him to become a Master until he surpassed her in all areas. It wasn't until he met her that he became so renowned."

Katara grinned and elbowed him with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Kind of like you meeting us, right?"

He huffed but shrugged. "Fighting you as often as I did helped me a lot," he acknowledged, watching her. "I mean, Aang helped a lot because he's The Avatar, but he didn't help me as much as you did."

She blinked, surprised. "Really?"

"Aang never fought to hurt me," Zuko clarified, watching the understanding dawn on her. "It seemed like a lot of the time he thought it was all a big game, and he was actually having fun during it, even though he was so young, and it always drove me insane fighting him. He wouldn't even take it seriously, and he'd still kick my ass. But you were different. You wanted to make me bleed; you were serious."

Katara swallowed and looked slightly pale. "I wanted you to die; I tried to kill you."

"And that trained me. It helped me; it prepared me. Thank you."

The disbelief and pain on her face was vivid. "You're thanking me for trying to kill you?"

Zuko nodded, serious. "If not for you, all the assassins sent after me would have killed me. You prepared me. Thank you."

She looked ill by the thought but inhaled shakily. "That's not the kind of thanks I want from you."

"How presumptuous of you," he judged but elbowed her back gently with a small smile. "What do you want me to thank you for?"

"It came out wrong," she said after several moments. "That's not what I wanted to do for you; it's not what I want to do for you. I don't want to prepare you for surviving assassins or anything. I want to help you- "

"You did help me," Zuko pointed out, confused. "You saved my life."

Katara's face scrunched in pain. "No. I didn't save your life by doing that. I threatened your life, which made you save your own life!"

Zuko leaned back slightly in understanding. "Huh. Good point."

She stared up at him, disbelieving. "That's it? 'Good point'? That's all you have to say? I tried to kill you! I never helped you; I never saved you!"

"You did from Azula."

Silence.

Her face spasmed with a mass of emotions, cycling so rapidly he couldn't keep up. "I only had to do that because I was stupid and interfered. If I stayed away, you would have defeated her."

Zuko didn't have a retort against the truth she spoke but shrugged. "I don't regret saving your life, Katara, and you returned the favor by saving mine. Aang probably loves that—balance and all."

Katara was silent for several long moments, but as she stared at his face, eyes roaming his features, he began to feel uncomfortable. But he watched it happen. The familiar determination shone in her eyes and seeped into her features, strengthening her jaw as she tensed in preparation. It all catapulted him back to the Great War when he was most familiar with that expression crossing her beautiful face.

"Why did you save my life, Zuko?" she asked, peering up at him with an urgency he wasn't sure he had ever seen before.

"Because you were in danger," he answered, confused by her lack of understanding the obvious. "There was no way you were going to survive Azula's lightning; I knew it instantly. Only a Firebender can redirect lightning, and you're not a Firebender; you would die, so I reacted to prevent it."

"So, it was an instinct to save me?"

Zuko rolled his eyes; he had no idea why they were talking about this. "Yes. It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Would you have saved the others if they would have been there instead of me?"

Immediately, with the force of an alarm, Zuko began to see what she was getting at and hesitated. How would Azula get herself out of the situation? "You make me laugh, Zuzu," he heard Azula say in his mind. "How would I ever get myself in this situation? I am too clever! You must manifest your creativity, Brother. You have before, despite my doubts. Do it again."

"I would have saved Aang," Zuko confessed, spacing his words, having a risky plan. "But I wouldn't have saved the others."

Unfortunately, his ploy failed because Katara didn't look disgusted or outraged by his admission; she looked unsurprised and undeterred by his admission that he would have let Sokka—her brother—die if the roles in the scenario were changed. "Even Toph?"

"Toph would have handled it," he replied, hoping it was true. Toph could have raised a wall to defend herself. The worst that could have happened is she would have broken several bones from the crash of lightning slamming into her wall, which would sling her into another wall. Or Toph would have died as the lightning approached too quickly, and due to her blindness, could not distinguish that Azula's attention turned to her because her body never shifted—only her eyes did.

"Why didn't you expect me to handle it myself?"

Zuko grit his teeth and looked away from her, from the mesmerizing and striving look in her eyes. "Because I knew you were going to die."

Katara's eyes bore into the side of his face, but he pretended he didn't feel the pressure. "Even if it meant your death?"

"It was worth the risk," he said shortly, hoping she would drop the subject.

"Why was it worth the risk?"

He turned to glare at her, and he hated that she looked so calm and almost expectant. "Why are you asking so many questions?" he demanded, surly. "It happened nearly nine years ago."

Katara was quiet for a moment. "I want to understand."

"Understand what?"

"Why you felt the instinct to save my life when you wouldn't have done it for anyone else but Aang."

Zuko's jaw clenched. "If Azula shot lightning at herself, I would have saved her life, too. And Uncle's. And Mother's if she were there."

Her eyes narrowed in a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "You're deflecting."

Knowing that she was hunting for an answer, he refused to give her the satisfaction. "I wanted to save your life, and that's it. Why does it have to be more than that?"

Katara sighed and tossed another piece of bread in the pond to the delight of the squawking turtle ducks; she looked frustrated as her soft blue eyes flashed.

It was nothing compared to the frustration inside him.

"Because it doesn't make sense," she said at last, "and I'd like the truth."

"Nothing makes sense in war," he dismissed. "The truth is that you were going to die, and I didn't want that to happen."

"Why didn't you want it to happen?"

She was going to make him go insane like Azula!

He released a slow breath to control his temper. "Because you're my friend."

Immediately, he realized his mistake by not speaking in the past tense, particularly since Katara swallowed before a beaming smile crossed her face; he hated that it made him not regret his slip of the tongue. However, the distraction didn't deter her; if anything, it seemed to reinforce her conviction that the conversation was necessary!

Why—why?—did she want to have the conversation? What the fuck was going on? Did Mother or Uncle have something to do with it? He wouldn't put it past either one of them.

"But you said you wouldn't save the lives of your other friends," Katara pointed out, turning completely to face him; he refused to look at the small dip in her gown that drew his eyes to the valley and, thus, hills of her breasts.

Zuko shook his head stubbornly. "I would have saved Aang's life."

"But not Sokka, Suki, or Toph's lives, and they're your friends, too."

"We both know Aang was and is more important."

"But he's also more important than me," she stressed, eyes challenging him. "But you risked your life to save mine. Why? I wasn't a better friend than the others."

"Clearly not," he muttered with a scoff, but unfortunately, she didn't take the offered bait of his vicious criticism.

Suddenly, she placed her hand over his hand and squeezed. "It doesn't matter what the truth is, Zuko," she whispered, eyes pleading. "The truth is what matters. Why save my life?"

Zuko stared at her hand covering his, felt the softness of her flesh, felt how her kind fingers extended in a clasp, brushing his fingers and dipping under; it was strange but nice. No one had ever touched him in such a way. Mother had not held his hand since he was a child, and he would refuse to hold her hand now, but he knew her holding his hand wouldn't feel like the way Katara's hand felt holding his; Azula never held his hand since they were children; and none of the concubines ever touched him anywhere but his penis, testicles, or thighs.

It reminded him of the way her hand cradled his scarred face in the Ba Sing Se catacombs, gentle and kind, warm and compassionate, inviting and soft.

His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of her cool hand over his. "I didn't want you to die," he breathed, tired of fighting. He could fight another day. "You're important."

"But so are you. You risked the Fire Nation's entire future, which was only secured if you lived, to save my life."

"I didn't think there could be a future for the Fire Nation without you in it."

Realizing what he had admitted, Zuko stilled, mind on fire in its screaming, raging intensity to deflect and correct, explain what he meant in a way that aroused no suspicion. She couldn't know that he had watched her interact with the locals on Ember Island during the Gaang's stay before Sozin's Comet, amazed by her kindness and regard for Children of Fire, whom she should revile and despise; she couldn't know that her faith in people had mesmerized him and made him think of ways in which that faith could benefit his race, who had received no faith from anyone for far too long; she couldn't know that her advocacy for people ignited something inside of him, recalling to him the stories of Grandmother Ilah, who served dutifully next to Grandfather; she couldn't know that he had evaluated her by listening to the way she spoke, the words she used, the expressions her face expressed when encountering a problem that needed a swift solution; she couldn't know that he had judged her social skills as excellent and premier, even for a girl so young, and knew that she would make a worthy Fire Lady if offered the opportunity; she couldn't know that he considered how she would handle the burdens of rule and political pressures; she couldn't know that he wondered if she could place her healing hands—the same hands that saved Aang's life and his life from Azula's lightning, and the same hands that touched his scarred, scorched, webbed face without hesitation or fear, only kindness, compassion, and determination—on Fire and help heal them after the end of the Great War; she couldn't know that he compared her to Mother and assessed her based on the guidance that Mother's memory provided him; she couldn't know that he found her to be excellent and memorable, worthy of all the thoughts he spent thinking about her and considering the possible entwined future of a Fire Lord of Fire and Fire Lady of Water; and she couldn't know that he thought the precious future of Fire, for which he would never stop fighting, no matter the struggle and hardship, could be secured with her help!

But he came up with nothing to say to prevent those conclusions! He had no lies to utter to prevent her from thinking what he knew she was thinking!

Fuck!

"Am I interrupting?"

He was going to give Uncle the Dragon's Throne and Fire Crown, revoked claim be damned!

Zuko jumped to his feet like an Airbender and knew Aang would be impressed; he whirled towards Uncle and bounded up to him, who stood at the edge of the royal garden.

"Of course not!" he said adamantly, loudly, but he heard how his voice wavered with the force of the emotions boiling inside.

Uncle stared at him with knowing eyes, which teemed with joy and pride, and though he was relieved for the interruption, he almost groaned. He could only imagine what Uncle thought after finding the Fire Lord sitting with the South's princess in the royal garden, holding her hand, eyes closed, and face nowhere near as ugly-looking and furious as normal.

"What is it, Uncle?" Zuko asked quickly as he heard Katara approach from behind—he wouldn't look at her!

Anything jovial in Uncle's face vanished, replaced by weariness. "I have received information that must be shared with all of you. The others are waiting."

"About Aang?" Katara asked hopefully next to him.

Zuko glanced at her—damn it!—before shaking his head; he knew Uncle didn't want to have to explain things multiple times. "Not now. Lead the way, Uncle."

Uncle turned around and Zuko followed with Katara trailing next to him.

After utilizing one of the many secret passages, they arrived in Zuko's privy chambers, and he saw that Uncle was right—the others literally were waiting. Uncle sat in his customary position on the couch and grabbed the pot of tea. Falling back into something familiar, Zuko grabbed a cup and watched without annoyance as Uncle immediately poured both of them a cup.

He slowly reclined on the couch, electing not to sit behind his desk and, to his amazement due to her audacity and annoyance because he kept getting himself into these situations, Katara sat down next to him. Out of the corner of his good eye, he saw Mother raise an eyebrow from the other couch and smile.

Fuck.

Rolling his eyes at the undoubted train of thought that Mother had followed, he turned to Uncle; he would have to deal with Mother later. "By the look on your face, this isn't good news."

Uncle shook his head sadly in confirmation; it looked like he had shed several tears earlier based on the raw quality of his eyes. "No, it is not," he confirmed. "Though, it is unsurprising."

"Aang?" Katara asked, the hope on her face vivid and familiar.

"No, there has been no word from Avatar Aang," Uncle replied, face lined with the exhaustive knowledge of a terrible truth. "This intelligence, again, comes from King Bumi, who has confirmed that the Order has been decimated. We know for certain that there are three remaining members—myself, Bumi, and Pakku in the South."

Silence.

Zuko watched the pallor overtake Katara, Sokka, and Suki's faces. "Are you sure?" he pressed quietly.

Uncle sighed. "Perhaps there are more survivors, but they have not made contact. Knowing of Dark's power, I have doubts anyone else has survived. The Order will not be able to come to Avatar Aang's aid in this war. The enemy reached us first and crippled us; he exterminated us. It was Ozai, no doubt—I have no idea how he found our members, let alone our organization. Jeong Jeong and Piandao are both confirmed dead from what Bumi found."

Katara swallowed next to him, the sound audible to his ears from the stiff silence; everyone's disbelief was tangible. "Only three are left?"

"Piandao was killed?" Sokka looked at the sword strapped to his side in grief.

"I am sorry, Prince Sokka," Uncle consoled kindly. "Piandao spoke often of your achievements. He was proud of you."

Zuko opened his mouth, but Uncle pushed his cup of tea at him and gestured for him to drink. Reluctantly, he followed the suggestion and sipped his tea, feeling content as the warm juice filled his mouth and slid down his throat, coating his tongue with a delectable flavor. He leaned back against the cushions, posture slouching, and he noticed that Katara, though horrified by the knowledge of the intelligence learned about the Order, looked on in slight amusement from her vantage next to him, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Do we have a strategy to fuck up Dark's new advantage?" Sokka asked, brows pinched tightly; his face was determined with ire to avenge Piandao's death. "We need the Order- "

"There is no more Order," Uncle interrupted tiredly, face contorting in mourning; he looked haggard. "Truly, there has not been an Order since Air's demise. This has been a slow death, and its expiration occurred rapidly, but it was inevitable. I see that now."

"We can rebuild," Katara suggested quickly. "The world needs the Order- "

"The world needs The Avatar."

Mother frowned. "Yet, Brother, The Avatar decided that the world needs the Order by creating it."

Zuko blinked, surprised at that information, and he wasn't the only one. He knew that The Avatar was the commander and leader of the Order, but he never knew that he had created it.

Suki leaned forward. "The Avatar actually created the Order?"

Uncle closed his eyes and took a long sip of his tea. "A Water Avatar who reigned many generations ago. Her name was Avatar Keska, and she saw the need for the Order of the White Lotus after a terrible tragedy; she mandated its existence."

"What was the tragedy?"

"That knowledge was lost."

"Avatar Keska, Avatar Keska, Avatar Keska…" Sokka mumbled, face twisting. "I've never heard of Avatar Keska; the earliest Avatar I know of is Kuruk, and he was the last Water Avatar."

Katara glanced at her brother, brows rising in disbelief. "Yangchen?"

Sokka perked up. "Oh, yeah. But who was before Yangchen?"

Zuko sighed. "Avatar Jinzhai, whose predecessor was Avatar Boruk, whose predecessor was Avatar Keska, whose predecessor was Avatar Anil."

"Should have known you'd memorize the names of the past Avatars," Katara teased, though it was tinged by the grief of hearing the confirmation about the Order.

"That's as many as I know because I wanted to be prepared," he said simply. "Keska reigned around two thousand years ago, and that's how long the Order has been around, apparently."

"Until now," Uncle murmured, face scrunching. "We can try to rebuild, but it will take much effort."

Mother's eyes closed briefly. "Sounds similar to Air's rebirth."

Zuko winced at the thought. "What was the importance of the Order, Uncle? You've mentioned several things, but maybe if you clarified, we could create a plan."

Sokka's eyes lit up. "How does the Order work exactly?"

"How many members are considered a healthy number?" Suki asked.

"Who was Avatar Keska?" Katara asked. "Do you know exactly when she reigned?"

Uncle raised a hand to prevent further questions; his eyes were clouded. "There is no definitive answer as to when she reigned, Princess Katara, but I do know that her name was Avatar Keska, and she reigned around two thousand years ago, as Zuko said. That is all that is known about her, unfortunately. So much has been lost—and so much more now."

"Why are there no records of the Order?" Suki looked at the group and, upon seeing the bemused looks, clarified: "I mean, there are records of Chin the Conqueror's conquest through the Earth Kingdom, the forming of the Kyoshi Warriors, and there are even sparse accounts of a cult who worshiped that Earth Avatar named Boruk who Zuko mentioned. Earth's histories are detailed and extensive, including things about the other nations, and though we lost so much of our history because of the Great War, we still have a lot of records. But the Order isn't included in the ancient records, at least as far as I know, but what about the other nations? Shouldn't the other nations have their own records that potentially show record of the Order?"

Sokka shook his head, placing a hand on his wife's leg—to comfort himself or Suki, Zuko had no idea. "No, there's none in the Water Tribes as far as I know. Both my father and Arnook showed me everything of both Tribes, and there's no mention of the Order; I never saw anything. What about the Fire Nation?"

"I've never encountered anything," Zuko informed before looking at Mother. "I know you've been in the Dragon Bone Catacombs. Have you read anything- "

"Nothing about the Order," she answered.

Uncle's smile was frayed. "The Fire Nation tends to focus predominantly on the Fire Nation in keeping records."

Katara huffed out a brief laugh, her blue eyes amused. "Why isn't that a surprise?"

Suki gestured with her arms, raising them in the air. "But why are there no records detailing the Order of the White Lotus, Iroh?"

"The Air Nomads were renowned for their archives," Uncle said. "Air had knowledge of the Order; Air had knowledge of most things; it is said in each of the libraries in the Air Temples, the knowledge stretched back to when the Air Temples were built, which was countless generations ago—many Avatar Cycles, from my understanding."

"But those libraries are gone," Zuko said bitterly, remembering when he went to each Air Temple during his search for The Avatar. The libraries were sacked and destroyed—like all the Air Temples and Air itself.

It was astronomically, incalculably devastating.

"But why not the other nations?" Suki asked. "There must be a reason only Air had prevalent knowledge of the Order when the other nations didn't."

Zuko looked to Uncle for the answer and watched as he breathed heavily and sipped his tea, seeming to consider how to answer Suki's questions. "The origin of the Order's existence lies in its eternal quality; that was the idea."

"The Avatar's eternal," Sokka pointed out, frowning.

"In spirit but not body," Uncle replied. "The Avatar grows, lives, reigns, and dies—and then he does it again in his next life. There are decades between when The Avatar dies and when he is ready again in his next life to carry his burden. On average, this disparity is three to four decades before The Avatar begins his reign. But three to four decades is a very long time; a lot happens in a single year, let alone in three to four decades. Thus, The Avatar needs a helping hand before he is ready to reign."

"And that's where the Order comes in," Katara finished in understanding. "Because the Order would always have bodies to fill the void of The Avatar's absence."

Uncle nodded. "Yes. The design, though it failed, is that the Order keeps balance between the Four Nations in The Avatar's stead while he is reborn and training to endure his mantle—or during a time of absence, such as during a journey into the Spirit World. It is said—or was—that Avatar Keska's intention was that members of the Order would act as messengers for The Avatar. Despite his supreme power, The Avatar cannot be everywhere at once. For example, if an outbreak of chaos splinters the Fire Nation while the South is besieged by pirates who hold the Chief and his family hostage, The Avatar can only deal with one of the pressing situations; the Order would deal with the other."

"Who would go where?" Sokka asked, curious. "How is that decided?"

"That is The Avatar's decision—a difficult decision to make. But it is his alone, and the Order follows his command. Each Avatar is different. What Avatar Aang chooses to do in situations differs from Avatar Roku's method of choice."

Suki's head tilted, eyes considering. "And the secrecy of its existence?"

Uncle refilled his cup of tea. "The Order is shadowed by secrecy; its veil is lifted to a select few. Very few believe it exists and even fewer knows that it does exist. I dare say, to answer your question, Princess Suki, that Avatar Keska intended to use the Order as a group of individuals who would stay in the shadows and be able to disappear from a battle like smoke, loyal to no nation or Element—only to The Avatar. It is The Avatar's personal army that fights for the greater good and his own will."

"What if The Avatar goes bad in one of his lifetimes?" Sokka asked, daring to risk a glance at Katara, who winced; she obviously understood his line of thought. "Say, if The Avatar slaughters an entire city in anger, what would the Order do? Would the Order abide by The Avatar's will, or would it challenge him?"

"We would try to challenge him, but we would fail," Uncle said seriously. "Perhaps we could challenge Aang, but to challenge The Avatar is an impossibility. But The Avatar will never 'go bad,' Prince Sokka; The Avatar will make bad choices but still be oriented towards peace and balance."

Zuko knew he wasn't the only one wondering how slaughtering Ba Sing Se still meant being oriented towards peace and balance.

"How can it be rebuilt?" Zuko asked quickly. "This history lesson only goes so far."

Uncle's bushy eyebrows rose. "History informs the present; the only way to understand the present is to understand the past. These are critical times, which means that the before times were equally critical."

"How are we going to rebuild, Uncle?" he repeated, well-used to Uncle's proverbs.

"To replenish its ranks is a difficult task, for we have little room to maneuver and obtain members," Uncle said after several moments of ruminating, provided by sipping his tea, of course. "We want to cast as wide a net as possible, but I do not think we can."

"Then we do what we can to replenish the Order," Mother interjected kindly. "We obtain whom we can."

Sokka leaned forward, looking intrigued. "We can help if we know the intricacies of the Order. Start spilling some secrets! We can make some selling points if you do. What's the command structure?"

"The Avatar is the sole commander of our legions," Uncle reminded. "The Avatar orders, and we follow. However, there is a hierarchy—as there is with all things and must be. After The Avatar, there are four sages—one from each of the Four Nations, one for each Element. After the sages, there are five grandmasters—one for each Element, and a non-bender for the role of combat, which was Piandao before his… demise." Uncle paused, eyes closed with grief over his slain friend, and Zuko quickly refilled his cup of tea, hoping to bring him some small level of comfort. "Then there are five masters of each element and combat, which totals 25 masters in total, and each master oversees sixteen warriors and apprentices."

Sokka whistled. "That's over 400 members."

"A very low number for an army," Zuko commented, surprised.

"Because it's existence is a secret," Uncle reminded, looking forlorn. "There cannot be many members; otherwise, everyone would know of it, which The Avatar has never wanted. However, there have not been 400 members since Air roamed this world, Prince Sokka; there has been no sage, grandmaster, master, or any warriors and apprentices of Air for over a century."

"That's awful," Katara whispered. "We all know about the Genocide, but it is still shocking when faced with the true magnitude of such death."

Zuko closed his eyes in shame over what his bloodline had done, what his own great-grandfather had done: slaughtered an entire race, an innocent race, all so that he could murder a child.

"We can replenish the ranks, even without Air right now, but how would we do it?" Suki asked, distracting everyone from the morose thoughts of Air's murder.

Uncle nodded. "Before anything is done, I would need The Avatar's approval for any replenishment- "

"You'll get it," Zuko interrupted. "The only thing Aang would disagree with is the subjects of replenishment."

"I could become the Sage of Fire," Uncle said after several moments. "I do not think Avatar Aang will be displeased by that."

Sokka snorted. "It's not like you helped your crazy nephew chase him around the world or anything."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "It's not like you weren't asking for it. Who attacks a squad of soldiers in broad daylight with only a club and boomerang?"

"A Water Tribesman!"

"But you were a boy."

Sokka scowled. "You know what I mean."

"I don't," Katara pointed out. "I appreciated you protecting us when Zuko attacked, but looking back, I have to admit it doesn't make much sense."

Zuko winced at the memory. "It was more of a forced negotiation, not an attack."

"It was more of a dick move," Sokka grumbled. "And what else was I supposed to do? Let him strut in like he's the Chief?"

"Would have made it easier," he muttered, rejecting the impulse to rub the back of his head where Sokka's boomerang had crashed into his skull. "And less painful—for both of us."

Sokka crossed his arms and straightened, eyeing him. "I want a rematch. No fire, of course."

"Of course," Zuko agreed with more mockery in his voice than he should have based on Katara's brief glance at him.

Mother interjected with patience, hands sprawled on her thighs: "I think Avatar Aang will have no misgivings with Iroh's promotion to the Sage of Fire."

"I must have a replacement for the Grandmaster of Fire," Uncle replied, eyes narrowed in consideration over the teacup. "I hope you would consider replacing me, Ursa."

"Me?" Mother echoed, surprise blossoming across her face. "I must work to earn my place, not be given such a high position from the start. You did not become the Grandmaster of Fire immediately."

Uncle shook his head with a fond smile tinged by grief. "My journey was different from yours. I needed to prove myself; you already have."

Zuko nodded. "You're a powerful Firebender and always have been. We both know the deeds you've accomplished, the good and the bad." He saw the memory of Grandfather's assassination play in her eyes and knew she was going to retort that bending had not evoked her success in some accomplishments, so he spoke quickly: "It's not only bending. It's your mind. You're intelligent; you're wise. I think it makes sense that the newest Grandmaster of Fire has to be as wise as the previous one."

Mother was quiet for several moments before glancing at the others. "What do you think? I trust your judgments. Please be honest."

"You're perfect," Katara commended immediately with a smile. "You're a prodigy, and you have powerful restraint and kindness. Besides Ozai, Iroh, and your children—and Aang, too—you're probably the strongest Firebender in the world. I don't think there's anyone more worthy."

Sokka sighed. "You and Azula are probably too alike for my liking, but you make the most sense; you're the only option as far as I can see."

Suki nodded. "Your skills and capabilities are impressive. I have no doubt that Aang will approve."

"Neither do I," Zuko added.

Mother looked at Uncle after a brief smile. "Iroh?"

Uncle smiled. "It would honor me if you accepted the position."

"Very well, Sage of Fire," Mother said, bowing her head in respect and acceptance. "I will become the Grandmaster of Fire in the Order of the White Lotus—if Avatar Aang approves."

"He will," Zuko assured. "You are his granddaughter, after all."

Mother's lips twitched in amusement. "But whom will we welcome as the five Masters of Fire?"

Uncle silently poured himself a new cup of tea with a forced nonchalance; the wince pulling at the corner of his lips was one Zuko was familiar with. "Zuko and Azula are the only worthy Masters of Fire I can conceive, particularly for such a daunting situation."

Sokka groaned. "I knew it. Why do I have to be such a genius? I mean, Azula? I know I said we'd give her a chance, but there has to be someone else. I'm okay with Zuko, but… please tell me there's another girl in the Fire Nation named Azula who you're on a first-name basis with."

"We need the best going forward, and Zuko and Azula are the best," Uncle said serenely.

Mother laughed slightly. "You must ensure Azula never hears you admit that, lest she recite it often in your company to her own delight."

Uncle chortled, a broad smile splitting his face; it was a relief after so much grief having overtaken him for so long. "As if Azula would ever be caught in my company!"

"She is an obvious choice," Katara admitted carefully, face strained, "but is she a wise choice?"

"I know you all hold little fondness, if any, for Azula, but we must remember her fortitude and- "

"Her mind broke," Sokka interrupted bluntly.

Zuko refrained from losing his temper. "You know what happened, not how it happened. Don't ever believe or think that you understand it with all the complexity, nuance, and context."

"But she's insane- "

"Are you trying to piss me off?"

"For all we know, she's the one who made Aang as pissed off as he is!" Sokka snapped, glaring at him; Zuko glared back. "Her snatch keeps whispering to him! I don't trust her."

"If you think she's the one who made Aang as pissed as he is, you haven't been paying attention," Zuko replied quietly. "There's a lot more going on- "

"Azula is a mighty Firebender, strengthened by the premier blood in her veins, born of a lineage of power," Mother interrupted; she seemed remarkably calm listening to the slander of her precious daughter, though Zuko saw the ire shining in her eyes, conveyed by the tight fingers gripping her thighs. "We need all the power we can obtain for our side."

Sokka crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, disgruntled. "Why does this feel like the start of a boasting of Fire's superiority?"

"Because you have limited experiences with those of Fire," Mother replied sagely. "That is the truth of my daughter, and she would make a most worthy ally if you let her be one. She committed crimes, but so did both sides; no side in war is innocent or victimless; both sides are mired in filth and atrocity."

Katara looked down at her hands. "I don't like it. I don't see how I can trust her to have my back at all. But I can give her a chance—if she's willing to prove herself."

Zuko wasn't sure how Azula would accept such a wager, but Mother nodded firmly. "She will."

"Furthermore, it is not our decision to induct her into the Order," Uncle reminded with a secretive smile. "It is The Avatar's decision, and from what I saw and heard, she has his trust; he trusts her. If The Avatar approves, you should, as well. Zuko and Azula will be the Masters of Fire. I am certain Avatar Aang will approve."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked quietly. "It's risky. I'm the Fire Lord. If word ever got out that I was part of The Avatar's army, I'd have a revolution vying for my head."

"When do you not have a revolution vying for your head?"

Zuko rolled his eyes with gritted teeth. "I'm serious."

"Unfortunately, I am, as well."

"My focus is already occupied as Fire Lord. How could I be a member—a master, nonetheless—in the Order if I'm Fire Lord? The Fire Lord's primary focus will always be on the Fire Nation, not on serving The Avatar."

"You would be an honorary member," Uncle explained in dismissal. Apparently, he was already convinced of the rightness of his proposal. "Only masters can claim such a title. You will never ascend the hierarchy of power, loyalty, and responsibility, such as becoming a grandmaster or sage, unless you revoke your claim to the Dragon's Throne."

Zuko stared at him critically. "Like you did."

"Yes."

He leaned back slightly. "Is that how you convinced the Order of your sincerity?"

"Partly."

"That's why you didn't fight for your claim upon your return after your sabbatical."

"Yes."

Zuko's only brow rose. "I won't ever be revoking my claim."

Uncle's lips curled. "I once thought the same, but I admire your conviction; the Order will respect your choices—as will The Avatar. Your responsibilities will always be first to Fire."

"Fire Lord and the Master of Fire," he mused lightly, satisfied. "At least it makes sense."

"But who makes sense for Earth?" Suki asked, brows furrowed. "I assume King Bumi will- "

"He will ascend to the Sage of Earth," Uncle interrupted firmly. "To replace him, Lady Toph will become the Grandmaster of Earth; she is very strong. Bumi's grandchildren can become masters, but I know of no other Earthbenders worthy enough to become masters- "

Sokka's eyes sparkled. "The Boulder!"

Katara rolled her eyes in disgust. "Don't be ridiculous, Sokka. No."

"But he's perfect!" Sokka protested passionately; there was a dreamy, wistful expression on his face. "He's strong and on our side; he's the Boulder! The Boulder…"

"Should I be jealous?" Suki drawled with a smirk.

Sokka nodded, serious. "Yes. You'll never look as good as the Boulder in your life; I'll never look as good as him. That is one lucky bastard."

Before Zuko could comprehend Sokka's perspective, Uncle interjected: "We will keep the Boulder in mind, Prince Sokka. Is there anyone else who could be a Master of Earth?"

"Haru," Katara said after a moment of thought, and Zuko felt, to his annoyance, a surge of jealousy ignite in his heart.

Fuck.

"But we would have to find him first," she continued with a shrug. "I don't know what he did after the War. I'm not sure he'd still be at his village."

Uncle nodded. "We will consider the Boulder and Haru to join Bumi's grandchildren as Masters of Earth. As for Water, Pakku will be promoted to the Sage of Water, and Princess Katara will become the Grandmaster of Water."

Katara's eyes widened. "No, Iroh, I shouldn't be- "

"Now is not the time for modesty, Princess Katara," Uncle chided kindly. "Besides Avatar Aang and Pakku, you are likely the strongest Waterbender in the world."

Sokka nodded and clapped his hands with a smack. "Show some Water Tribes pride, Katara! You trained The Avatar!"

Zuko nudged her gently with his elbow. "And you did defeat Azula."

Katara looked sad. "You would have beaten her. And she was insane."

"Which made her unpredictable," he retorted. "And, thus, more dangerous—because she was different than any other time you encountered her. You won at the end of the day, and that's what matters. Be the Grandmaster of Water."

Her lips curled, and her blue eyes possessed a teasing glint. "I'll be ranked higher than you now, Fire Lord Zuko."

"If that is your aim in life, Princess Katara," he drawled.

Katara's smile widened, and Zuko pretended he didn't see Mother raise a cup of tea to cover the smile breaking across her face. "It's becoming my aim more and more."

"As long as your aim doesn't include assassins, I see nothing wrong with it."

Uncle watched him with knowing eyes before clearing his throat. "Are there any possible Masters of Water you are aware of, Princess Katara?"

Silence.

Zuko watched the thoughtful expression on Katara's face and quickly looked away, realizing his breach in control. Thankfully, Sokka didn't seem to notice, busy rubbing the sparse hairs under his chin in rumination. However, based on the way Suki glanced at him, he wasn't in the clear. Not to mention Mother and Uncle's pleased expressions.

Damn.

"Huu," Katara finally said. "He was a Waterbender who lived in a swamp in the Earth Kingdom; he was powerful."

Uncle nodded. "A unique solution. We will- "

"Don't you mean a Huu-nique solution?" Sokka quipped with a broad grin.

"Of course," Uncle replied easily while Katara rolled her eyes. "But what about from the Water Tribes? Powerful conventionally trained Waterbenders will be useful."

Sokka and Katara shook their heads. "All of the kids in the South are kids, too young, and the North would be pretty hostile with us, even Sokka, after what happened to Ba Sing Se. We're loyal to Aang, and the North won't be."

"Arnook and Kuei were close friends—how, I was never able to figure out," Sokka said before sharing a brief look with Katara; he looked pained. "Kuei's how Arnook gave me the North, but now, with Kuei dead, it's not going to happen. Even if I asked Arnook for powerful Waterbenders in the North, I'm not sure he'd respond, and I don't know how well-received I'd be if I traveled there now, not after Ba Sing Se, like what Katara said."

Zuko sighed. "I'll think of something," he assured. "You'll be Chief of Water."

While Sokka looked grateful, he didn't look convinced, and Zuko didn't know how to convince him, not now.

"All the North's Waterbenders are more loyal to the North than the whole Water Tribes, least of all to The Avatar," Katara described. "And unlike Zuko, they're not going to have Aang's trust to be considered worthy as members, least of all masters. And they're not as good and strong as Zuko, not by a long way."

"Naturally," Zuko quipped, unable to help himself.

"Blood of Roku and Sozin and all," Sokka muttered.

Uncle sighed. "That was my fear. For now, Princess Katara will be the Grandmaster of Water and there will be no Masters—pending Avatar Aang's approval. For the non-benders, I believe that- "

"We'll do it!" Sokka exclaimed, wrapping his arm around his Suki with pride. "We would be honored to join the Order of the White Lotus, Iroh."

Uncle chuckled. "Thank you, Prince Sokka, but who will become the grandmaster? Remember, there is no sage of non-benders."

Sokka's eyes widened before he sighed heavily. "I'd say me, but that wouldn't work. I'll be Chief of Water—hopefully. That means I'm in the same boat—ha, get it?—as Zuko. I'll have to be an honorary member as Master of Combat. Suki will be Grandmaster of Combat. She'd probably do a better job than me at it, actually.

Suki nodded with a brief smile at her husband. "I do have extensive experience with that type of leadership in a small group because I led the Kyoshi Warriors for a long time." A sudden frown overtook her face, and she paused for several moments before continuing: "Wait. I would be honored to accept, yes, but I will be Chiefess of Water. Will the same apply to me?"

Uncle hummed. "I am unsure. I know of no record of a ruler's wife being a powerful member of the Order."

"If the Fire Lady was in the Order, would she be considered appropriate to be Grandmaster of Fire or Sage of Fire?" Mother asked, brows raised. "Or would she only be permitted the designation of master? What do you think the Order's precedents would permit? What would The Avatar permit?"

"It would be the same judgment," Uncle said after several long moments of deep thought. "Princess Suki cannot be the Grandmaster of Combat; she must be one of the masters like Prince Sokka."

"But who will be Grandmaster of Combat?" Sokka demanded, throwing his hands in the air. "I'll be answering to this guy! It better be someone I like."

"I believe that the Ladies Mai and Ty Lee would be excellent choices to join, as well. One or the other can be the Grandmaster of Combat."

"What?" Katara's jaw dropped while Zuko stared at his uncle with his only eyebrow raised. "But they tried to murder Zuko! They even admitted it! Why would you want them to join the Order, Iroh?"

Sokka waved his arms. "And I don't like either one of them! What the fuck?"

Before anything more could be said, by Katara or anyone else, Uncle held up his hand, halting everyone. "I am aware of their actions, Princess Katara, but I have remained unconvinced of their treachery. If they are found innocent, they will be able to join. If not, they will be denied. And, Prince Sokka, they would be powerful allies to have during such times. Liking someone cannot be the deciding factor here like it can be at other times and places."

Sokka frowned but begrudging consideration was on his face. "Well, they are remarkable combatants…"

Zuko brushed his fingers against his neck, where Mai's shuriken had been buried, thrown with the intent to kill—and would have killed him if not for Katara. "They are," he murmured in memory. "If Ty Lee becomes Grandmaster of Combat, it sets a standard of chi-blocking. That could be useful."

"What about Smellerbee and Longshot?" Sokka asked, almost desperate; he clearly didn't want Mai or Ty Lee as the Grandmaster of Combat. "Any of the Freedom Fighters, really?"

Katara shrugged, though she glanced at him and offered a small smile; he didn't know why. "I have heard nothing from any of them since the Great War ended."

"The Yu Yan Archers would be excellent members, Nephew."

Zuko nodded his head at Uncle's observation. "They never miss," he recalled. Suddenly, he felt his shoulder ache from where Zhao had ordered one of the Yu Yan Archers to shoot him when he had saved Aang all of those years ago as the Blue Spirit.

Uncle sipped his tea. "I believe that we have created a plan, yes? Whenever Avatar Aang returns, I will discuss the Order's future with him, along with my suggestions and our agreed-upon plan. Does anyone else have anything to share?" When no one said anything, Zuko watched as Uncle placed his cup of tea to the side and stood up to stretch his arms. "I think that I will journey to the kitchen. It is midday, time for a refreshing meal; anyone is welcome to join me."

Sokka hopped to his feet. "Yes. Thinking about the Boulder works up an appetite! I've got to beef up."

Suki rolled her eyes with a fond smile and followed his lead. "I could eat, as well—much healthier, of course."

Before Zuko could mention that firewhiskey helped ignite the blood flow—at least it did his—Katara switched her position until she faced him completely on the couch. She looked expectant—and he had to leave! She clearly wanted to continue the conversation from earlier based on the look in her more-beautiful-than-they-deserve-to-be eyes, but he wanted nothing to do with it! He needed to walk right out and follow the others to the kitchen! He would! There was nothing he wanted more!

Of course, he stood to his feet and walked to the window, instead.

Damn.

Mother sent him a kind but proud smile, and he could only summon a grimace in response—not even a glare! What was wrong with him? He should have called out for Uncle to wait to discuss other subjects, but Zuko watched silently as Uncle strode out of the room with heavy footsteps with the others, all of whom left his private study and bypassed the Imperial Firebenders guarding outside.

The doors shut.

Zuko looked out the window, distracting himself by inhaling and exhaling softly, focusing on his connection to Agni-

"Are you still angry at me?"

He groaned and debated not answering, forcing her to feel his anger. She deserved to feel his anger! She deserved it all!

"Why would you ask that?" he said, refusing to look at her reflection in the window—of course, he failed.

She approached softly, and she looked wonderful under Agni's light. "Because I'm still angry at myself."

Zuko made the mistake of glancing at her in surprise before looking away; it was enough time to note the sadness and frustration on her face. "I know all about that."

"I know you do," Katara agreed quietly. "Maybe this is an easier question—are you still angry at yourself?"

Was he ever! He was angry at himself because he was too weak to tell Katara to go fuck herself; he was angry at himself because he hated the influence she had on him, even though he was angry at her; he was angry at himself because he recognized the conclusion of his thoughts about her, which were unacceptable—even if, once, he had thought the conclusion was impressive and reasonable; he was angry at himself because he continued to talk to her and listen to her; he was angry at himself that he hadn't used one of the concubines in so many months; he was angry at himself that he found Katara beautiful; he was angry at himself that he let Katara stir things inside him!

He should order a concubine right now and use her in front of Katara, showing her how much he didn't care! He had to indulge in his habit! Why couldn't he indulge in his habit?

When he had been banished and stuck on that damned ship for years until he captured The Avatar, the crew had taken him to many a brothel, and every time, he had lost himself in the touch of women, feeling everything fade away in the face of the great pleasure they had always given him. On his thirteenth name-day, it had been the first time, and ever since, he had used plenty of—too many—concubines since his ascension to the calling of Fire Lord. But there never authentic connection. For all of the concubines, he has never felt anything except lust towards them and, in some rare times, after his crushing loneliness had abated, disgust for himself.

But it was his habit—his alone. It was the only thing for himself. He had to share Uncle with Ba Sing Se, Mother with Azula, Azula with her madness, Aang with the world, and Father with his prison. The concubines were the only ones who were there specifically for him, only for him, just for him.

They were almost his loyal friends, in a way.

But, of course, he knew it was loyalty borne of his position and authority as Fire Lord; it wasn't him and who he was to whom they gave their adulation and love; it was to what he was.

"Not like I used to be, but yes," Zuko answered after several moments. "I know I can do better, but I don't."

Katara nodded—at least it looked like she did out of the corner of his bad eye according to the flash of motion of her hair. "I could have done so much more back then, but I didn't; I wasn't who I thought I was. I'm sorry that I wasn't who I thought I was. I'm sorry for me, yes, but I'm sorrier for you and Aang, who needed me, but I failed; I didn't care enough—when, once, I cared too much."

"War takes," he consoled, and he didn't know why. "It takes things from you; it spoils your perspective and outlook; it poisons your spirit and makes you someone you're horrified by. But it can also reveal someone you never thought you could be; it reveals the layers of yourself."

He heard her swallow. "I didn't want to be Aang's mother anymore," she breathed, voice wavering and faltering. "I wanted a break; I thought I needed it."

"You did," Zuko said, surprising not only her but himself. "You went through a lot and needed a break; we all did."

"But you and Aang didn't get breaks."

He closed his eyes at the reminder. "No, we didn't. But Aang got that six-month vacation with Azula, at least. I'm glad he did, even though I was kept in the dark and going crazy."

Katara was quiet for long moments, staring out the window as he did; surprisingly, she mentioned nothing about Aang's long stay with Azula. "I didn't want to be a real friend for a while," she confessed, voice shaking but true. "I didn't want to be relied on; I didn't want to be trusted; I didn't want responsibility or accountability. I wanted a break from everything—a long break. And I thought you could take care of yourself and wouldn't need a friend."

He frowned, finally looking at her completely; he felt insulted. "I did take care of myself. And Aang took care of himself, too; he's stronger than anyone I've ever met, and it has nothing to do with him being The Avatar—I think."

She smiled with tears in her eyes, and a small laugh escaped her, but it was worn. "But you shouldn't have had to take care of yourself—as in, you shouldn't have been so alone. And Aang, too. I was selfish; I wasn't a real friend or mother."

Zuko felt the impulse for mercy. "You're not Aang's mother, Katara- "

"But I was; I treated him like a son, and I loved him like one."

"You were always going to be a temporary one," he explained. "Aang doesn't need a mother anymore; he hasn't for a long time."

Katara stared at him. "Every boy needs a mother—you should know that."

Zuko sighed. "I know, but you're not his mother; you're not to him like my mother is to me. You didn't bring him into this world, and you didn't name him; you didn't instill in him values and responsibilities. He looked at you like one because he needed it for that time, for those moments—because every child reaches towards his mother for comfort after experiencing horror and grief, such as realizing the depths of Air's murder. You were like a mother to Aang then, but now you must be his friend; he's not looking for a mother, and he won't accept one, either. If he's interested in a mother, it's the Mother of Air."

He refrained from mentioning Azula's self-made, bold nomination for that prestigious title.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, vulnerable. "I didn't want to be a friend, and I decided not to be a friend, but by the time I wanted to be a friend again and reach out, it was too late; it was too long. I was a coward. I didn't want my friends to judge me. Anyone else in the world can judge me, but my friends? That scared me so much. And maybe that's why I kept having nightmares—because, deep down, I knew what I was doing was wrong and wasn't helpful in the long run, so I was punishing myself. I think I had the wrong strategy. If I had stayed with my friends, maybe I wouldn't have had the nightmares to begin with."

"How bad were the nightmares?"

"I couldn't sleep often."

Zuko thought of his memories, which poisoned his dreams, of Father's flaming hand descending to cradle his face. "I'm sorry you had them. Nightmares are grueling."

Katara stared up at him, blue eyes glimmering—with tears and something else. "Are you still angry at me?"

"I want to be; I'm trying to be," he muttered after several moments. "Why do you make it so hard? I should be so calm in my anger towards you that I could shoot lightning at you, but instead, I'm angry that I'm not angry."

She laughed slightly. "That's how it was for me after you joined us, but it was more that I was angry that I was angry. I shouldn't have cared so much, but I cared more about you than anything else. I should have cared that we had to find food or that the Fire Nation could find us, but all I cared about was that you were sitting with us like you were one of us; all I cared about was that Aang liked you so much and talked about you constantly, always going on about 'Zuko this' and 'Zuko that'; all I cared about was that Sokka was praising your intelligence and skills, saying 'he's not such a bad guy' and everything; all I cared about was that, everywhere I looked, you were there; all I cared about was that I was always aware of your presence. It was awful. You infuriated me with everything you did; nothing was as it should have been. And I couldn't think straight—all because you were there."

Zuko smirked. "I didn't notice."

Katara elbowed his side with a little more force than she had earlier. "But I was angry at myself that I was so angry at you—because I knew it was so obvious. So, I guess we're alike. But if it's any consolation, I think you're better at hiding your anger than I was. I mean, I told you to your face that I would kill you if you stepped out of line—and I meant it. And you actually looked concerned by the threat- "

He laughed slightly, surprising himself. "I wasn't concerned; I was surprised. But I respected you for it."

She looked offended. "I didn't scare you?"

Zuko refrained from rolling his eyes. "Someone's full of herself again. Of course, you didn't scare me. Considering that my father shot lightning at me right before I got there, your threat was very tame—and unimpressive—in comparison."

Not to mention Father admitting he was going to 'kill him' on Grandfather's orders, which he never knew was a deception until Mother revealed the truth to him. But he had believed the lie—and thought Father was making do on his promise to Grandfather that day in the bunker by shooting lightning at him.

Her blue eyes bulged, horrified and disbelieving. "Your dad shot lightning at you?"

For some reason, he felt fond of the memory; it was the first time in his life that he had felt alive—and it wasn't because of the lightning. "I told him to go fuck himself, and he didn't appreciate it."

Katara looked ill. "But you survived."

"I redirected it at him," he recalled, remembering those moments; it happened before he could blink, but his body reacted instantly, prepared for the moment by Uncle's lessons—even if he had never imagined Father would shoot lightning at him.

But Father hadn't hesitated to.

"I'm so sorry," Katara whispered, voice wavering with powerful emotion, and Zuko didn't understand why her eyes were filling with tears. He knew that a father wasn't supposed to shoot lightning at his son, but Katara's reaction seemed excessive for hearing of the act.

Her blue, watery eyes roamed his face in sorrow, and when her eyes began tracing his scar with tender anguish, he knew—he knew!

Katara knew about his scar.

"You never deserved it," she hissed adamantly, eyes riveted on his scar.

Zuko forced a laugh to escape him, trying to pretend like she was talking about the lightning rather than a flaming hand. "I know. I didn't accept the lightning, after all. I would have if I thought I deserved it. I shot it back at him."

Katara swallowed. "Zuko, I know."

He continued the performance. "I know—because I just told you about it."

"No, I know about your scar."

Zuko snorted but felt a rising panic inside him, threatening to consume his heart. "Because you helped heal it—but that was from a different lightning attack."

Katara gripped his arms, fingers tight but gentle—it was an odd combination. "I know what your father did to you, Zuko. I'm so sorry- "

He ripped his arms out of her grasp, putting distance between them; he felt cornered. He felt tempted to call on the Imperial Firebenders. "I don't want your pity!" he snarled. "I want to know how you know! Who told you? Who? My mom?"

"Iroh told me."

Zuko grit his teeth in ire. Perhaps he and Uncle would have that Agni Kai after all. "Of course, he did."

"Don't be mad- "

"I'm not fucking mad," he snapped. "I'm furious. He had no right to tell you! You have no right to know!"

Katara only looked sad. "I know. I'm sorry, Zuko- "

"I don't want your fucking pity!"

"What do you want?"

"For Father's face to match mine!"

Silence.

Zuko turned away with a bitter, hoarse laugh. "I don't actually mind the scar anymore—I don't think I do, at least. But I hate that the scar is what makes me look less like him. It should be something else—it should be because I look so little like him to begin with. I would rather take after my mom."

Katara approached softly, and he let her do it. "Your beard reduces the resemblance."

He sneered. "He'd probably grow a beard, enhancing our resemblance, just to spite me."

"He might," Katara agreed in solace. "I wish I looked more like my mom, too."

Zuko glanced at her. "You don't look like your mom?"

Katara shook her head. "No, I look like her, but I also look like my dad, too. It's the same for Sokka. We take after both our parents. But I wish my resemblance to her was like yours to your dad. I miss her every day."

He was quiet for a long time, letting the silence fill his ears. "I miss him, too—how he was when I was young. But I remember. I loved him—and I still do—because there was something lovable about him. He used to take me to the beach on Ember Island, and we would go in the water. We would swim and play; he would toss me in the water, and I remember him laughing. And I would spray him with water. It was fun. I loved it. I remember asking him questions about firebending and what it was like, and he was patient in telling me about it, saying that I would grow to become a powerful Firebender—like he did. That was back when he still had faith in me, I guess. But I miss feeling his faith in me, even now. It should be him and not Uncle by my side, helping me. It should be him instead of Uncle who took care of me and stuck by me no matter what. I love Uncle, but I hate that it was him who was there instead of Father. It should have been Father—I wanted it to be Father. I still want it to be Father, and I feel like a monster because I spit on Uncle's love every time I think about it—because I think about it a lot."

"I think your uncle would understand," Katara offered kindly, smiling slightly, lips quirking, blue eyes vivid, and he looked away quickly before he did something he would regret.

"I know he would, but it changes nothing. I love my father, but I hate that I love him. I don't want to love him. He scarred my face and shot lightning at me; he broke Azula's mind; and he manipulated my mom into doing something horrible."

"But you didn't kill him in retaliation," she said, sounding far away.

Zuko sighed. "No. I spared him when he didn't spare me. I couldn't do it then. If it happened now, I'd more than likely kill him, but I was young then."

Katara placed a kind hand on his arm. "I understand. He's your father."

"Sons have murdered their fathers before," he acknowledged, recalling all the ancient stories, which were true and wise—at least, that was Mother and Uncle's description. "But those sons were never my age when they had to make that horrible choice. They were more my age now, and I once didn't understand how they could murder their fathers, even if their fathers deserved it, like mine did and does. But I understand now how they murdered their fathers—I understand how I would murder my father."

She swallowed but straightened. "How would you murder him?"

Zuko's good eye widened in surprise that she was willing to discuss such a subject. "Quickly," he said after several moments. "I don't want to draw it out, extending his time of death. I want something instant. I've thought about decapitating him, but I don't think I could do that—I know I couldn't do that. Maybe lightning through his heart, I could do, but I don't think I'd ever be calm or serene enough to shoot lightning at him. I'd probably poison him. That's probably the only thing I could do to murder him."

He was well aware of the likeness to Mother's actions in murdering who she loved as her father.

"But that's murder," Zuko clarified. "Murder is much harder. Killing him would be a lot easier and more within my capability. If it was a sword fight or bending duel, I could kill him a lot easier. Murder is an action; killing is a reaction. Towards him, I've always been much more reactive than active, and that's how it will always be."

Katara inhaled shakily, uncomfortable by the conversation, which he knew he spoke of far too casually to be considered normal or healthy. "You've thought about it."

"He's my father, and I'm his son. I think about that a lot."

"Maybe it's similar with me and my mom," Katara said in consideration. "It's nothing so murder-y or anything. But she's my mom, and I'm her daughter. I think about that a lot."

He nodded. "As you should."

"I never thanked you for what you did for me, not really," she said in a rush, eyes awed. He guessed that she didn't want to continue speaking about Father—not that he could blame her. "There was so much going on, and I didn't tell you how much it meant to me. You gave me the chance to avenge my mom, and no one else would have ever done that for me. Dad and Sokka would have wanted him for themselves, but that was for me. You made it about me and let me make my decision; you accepted whatever I decided, even beforehand. Thank you, Zuko."

Zuko recalled those days in his mind when he recognized much of himself in her—and Azula, though he would never tell her that. There was a deep rage in her blue eyes, cold as the North and South, that was unnatural when compared to the usual, kind, and determined warmth; there was a tightness in her posture, a rigidness of her spine; there was an exhausting resolve that consumed her energy and frayed her spirit; there was a mania that burst in her eyes when she first laid eyes on Yon Rha; and there was only anguish on her quivering face when she chose to walk away.

"It's what I would have wanted if the situation was reversed," he said finally, smiling slightly at her. "If I were avenging my mom, I would have wanted help finding her murderer; I would have wanted acceptance about my decision, no matter my decision."

"But you would have killed him if he murdered your mom," she observed without judgment; she looked curious.

Zuko nodded instantly. "Yes. There would have been nowhere in this world where he could hide; there would have been no one who could protect him from me. Even if Aang decided to protect him, I would have still murdered that murderer."

It was a statement of fact; it was a belief. He had considered it in the past, particularly when he searched for Mother after the Great War. If he found evidence that she was murdered, he would hunt down her murderer and avenge her with blood and wrath. And he would have wanted a friend to help him, though there was no friend who would at that time.

Aang would have tried to stop him, reciting Air's wisdom, knowing, deep down, if he let Zuko murder Mother's murderer, he needed to be consistent and murder his race's murderer—Fire. But Katara would have helped, though, if she had been around and in contact; she would have understood in ways other didn't. Uncle would probably understand, but he was unsure if Uncle would have let him make the decision without reciting his proverbs or lecturing him, specifically at that time in his life.

And he wouldn't have wanted that, not in the slightest; he wouldn't have needed it.

"Why didn't you kill him?" he asked, intrigued. He hadn't asked her all those years ago, knowing it wasn't his business; it was her choice, and it was his choice to respect her choice, even if he didn't understand it.

He would always choose to murder Mother's murderer.

She looked down at her hands. "When I saw him, all that I saw was Mom's body; it was scorched and blackened, and there was blood. I thought about making his body that way—or asking you to scorch him. But I looked at him, and I imagined his corpse, instead. Where he was alive in a moment, the next moment he was dead—and I realized that nothing changed at the end of the day. The day would turn to night, the Moon would come out, and then the Sun would rise, and it would do it all over again. Nothing would have actually changed when I wanted everything to change." She raised a hand and sniffed, wiping several tears from her eyes. "I understood that murdering him wouldn't bring my mom back; it would change none of the pain that I went through—or my family went through—for all those years, and that's what I wanted to change so desperately. At the heart of it, murdering him wasn't satisfactory. Revenge wasn't good enough for me."

"For something like that, no," he agreed. "It would never satisfy—because it's not a reciprocity. Your mother's life meant everything to you; his life meant nothing to you. Revenge doesn't help in the long run, only the short run—because it doesn't change your situation. Aang helped me see that."

"But you would still murder your mom's murderer."

"I'm not perfect," Zuko defended with a scoff. "Of course, I'd murder him. I understand all of that wisdom, especially now, but I would still do it. I don't know how Aang doesn't. He chooses not to murder his race's murderer."

Zuko was unsure if that was because Sozin was already dead, or if Aang was living that wisdom.

He leaned much more towards the former, especially since Aang hated Azula's nomination for Mother of Air because of the blood in her veins.

"I thought Aang would understand why I needed to find him," she whispered. "And I was so angry at him when he didn't understand."

Zuko nodded. "It was his only way of holding on, I think. If he considered your perspective, he would realize that he should do the same to Fire. He couldn't face that yet."

Katara swallowed, looking pale. "I'm glad he didn't understand."

The horror of the inverse was terrible to consider, but after hearing about Ba Sing Se, he understood its possibility. "Me too."

Her grip on his arm tightened and became insistent; there was something desperate on her face. "But you understood. Out of anyone, you understood. Thank you. You let me make my decision."

"Do you regret your decision?" he asked, curious.

He was never surprised that she spared Yon Rha; he also wouldn't have been surprised if she murdered him. However, what did surprise him was the fact she spared Yon Rha without injury, without inflicting pain on him, wounding him, scarring him, or making him bleed.

That was what made it incomprehensible to him; he was never able to understand it. But he accepted it.

It was what made Zuko realize that she was incapable of murdering him if he 'stepped out of line.' If she couldn't murder the man who murdered her mother, she wouldn't be able to murder him if he murdered her 'son' in Aang, who would never compare to her mother.

"No," she answered.

"You can live with yourself and your decisions. That's what matters. That's what we all want."

Katara swallowed and averted her eyes. "You didn't ask about what I did."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "I'm never going to ask about it if you don't give me specifics."

"What I did to those men on that ship—what I did to their bodies."

He understood instantly what she meant, recalling the way those soldiers' bodies had twisted unnaturally, limbs creaking and groaning, magnified by the terror of powerlessness in the eyes. "Bloodbending."

Katara's gaze snapped to him, panicked. "You know what it is?"

"Aang told me," he explained, words spaced. "He told me about Hama and who she was, what she mastered and what she taught you—forced you to learn. I figured out that's what you did that night on the ship."

The panic on her face grew. "Did you tell Aang that I- "

"No. I never told him; I didn't tell anyone."

She relaxed, but the tension in her eyes remained. "Thank you. Why did you never ask me about it? After we got back, I was kind of going out of my mind thinking you were going to ask about it—but you never did."

Zuko was quiet for several moments, remembering his undying curiosity about what she did on that ship and how she acted after that event. "I was curious, but I didn't think it was my place to ask. You wouldn't look at me, even with hatred, after it happened, so I knew it was a big deal. And the way you held yourself after you did it was different, too. You looked tight, like you had walked in the wrong direction and knew it but kept walking in that wrong direction."

Katara bowed her head, ashamed. "I shouldn't have done it. I was a monster. I took a step I vowed never to take, and I did it knowingly; I did it willingly. I knew it was wrong, but I didn't care it was wrong; all I cared about was that it felt good in the moment to have that power over the man I thought murdered Mom. I'm a monster."

"You were a monster," he agreed. "But then you weren't. I appreciate that you didn't stay a monster. You could have used bloodbending on me; you could have killed me on that ship, blamed it on the Southern Raiders, and flown back to meet the Gaang with the news of my death, and no one would have dared doubt you. But you didn't. Thank you."

She shook her head, something anxious and distraught in her eyes. "How can you look at me knowing what I can do? That was evil."

Zuko almost laughed. "Again, I looked at my father often; you're much more appealing to look at."

"I'm serious."

He was, as well, but he wasn't going to say so, not after he had already stupidly admitted his affection for her beauty. "Look at what Aang did to Ba Sing Se. That was evil, but when I see him again, I'm still going to hug him because I've been worried about him. That's within my capability. And I don't think bloodbending is evil; I think it's useful."

Katara flinched. "No. I took that man's will away from him- "

"There are many ways to take a man's will from him," he said vaguely, remembering the legends of his forefathers. "All men take each other's wills at one point or another. We all feel powerless and not in control- "

"But this is his body, not his mind or spirit or whatever," she protested, the urgency and grief on her face striking. "You've never had your body- "

"I've been chi-blocked, and I know you have, too. It's a terrifying experience. To have your bending so suddenly blocked, it's wrong; it makes you feel not in control of your body, which you know is capable of bending but is unable to; it makes you feel powerless; it makes you feel terrified. It's not the same but similar."

"But it's not the same terror- "

"There are other terrors in life," he reminded. "It's not only the body; it's the mind, too. What else are your nightmares you told me about?"

Katara looked away. "But those nightmares are my problem. That man's problem was me, and it was because of me; it was because of my choices. He had nothing to do with it before I came and used bloodbending on him, changing his life forever, scarring him forever."

"You want to punish yourself."

"I don't want to, but I feel like I deserve it."

Zuko stared at her for several moments. "I imagine that man would think so."

She flinched but nodded. "Yes."

"What do you think he did after you released him?" he asked, curious to hear her answer. "Do you think he cried? Do you think he felt shocked? Do you think he felt relief?"

"Yes."

Zuko nodded. "Maybe he felt like he could breathe again; he felt freedom. Yes, he only felt that freedom because his freedom was taken away violently from him, but he still felt that restored freedom all the same—an amazing sensation. If he had a wife and kids, I think he hugged each tighter and kissed each longer. I think the day after you released him was the best day of his life—because he was alive and knew it; he was free and knew it. Agni never felt more reviving and warmer to him than that day after. I think he was in awe to be alive, grateful for that fact. No, he's never going to thank you or be grateful to you; he's going to hate you and fear you the rest of his life; he would execute you if he could; he would call you names that would make even Toph cringe in shock and horror. But he's still thankful and grateful—to Agni, likely, who he thinks spared him from a violent murder at the hands of a monstrous bitch. But that doesn't change the nature of what happened. You both walked away, breathing; you both walked away, living; you both saw Agni rise again; you both saw your families and loved ones again; you both felt thankful and grateful that you walked away from it; you both felt thankful and grateful that nothing unforgivable happened."

Katara's blue eyes swam with tears. "That's a horrible rationalization. What I did was unforgivable, and I know he thinks so! He hates me to this day forever, and he should!"

"Would he hate you if he knew why you did it?" he challenged softly. "I never hated you for why you did it because I knew the context. You thought he was someone else, and the moment—the literal moment—you realized he didn't murder your mom, you released him. That means something. If he was wise, he would understand that. He would still hate it, yes, and hate you, but so much more could have gone wrong for him that night but didn't. And he's grateful for that; he's in awe that he was spared further horror."

She wiped away her tears. "I still feel horrible about it- "

"That's not going to change. Maybe it's not supposed to change. You regret it, and what you regret you're always going to regret. Only by accepting it and realizing it will never change can you feel peace about it."

Katara laughed, but it sounded hollow. "You sound like your uncle. Do you even believe that?"

"I believe it, but I'm not there yet."

"I'm not, either. I don't know how to be. 'Monstrous bitch' is right."

Zuko shook his head. "Hama was a monstrous bitch from what Aang told me, but you're not; you're not like her, and you're never going to be."

Katara's fingers crinkled the edge of her sleeve, worried. "I don't know. I think I could be her; I think if it was me who was kidnapped from my home and imprisoned for years with barely any water, I would be like her."

He frowned. "To escape, yes, but Aang told me what happened—he told me. He explained everything, and I asked a lot of questions—I was fascinated and furious. Hama terrorized the village she stayed in for years. You wouldn't have done that. After escaping, you would have done everything in your power to go back to your home. Think about it, Katara. Hama could have chosen to return to the South, to her home, after she escaped with a little patience and ingenuity, but she chose—chose—to stay in enemy territory and terrorize and mutilate; she chose to keep walking that path. She chose to keep bloodbending; she chose to target innocents; she chose to be a monstrous bitch. And Hama never regretted it, did she? She saw it as righteous, justified retribution, didn't she?"

She blinked up at him. "Yes."

"She never felt guilt, only pleasure and desire. But you feel guilty about what you did; you regret it. And Hama targeted my race, targeted those of Fire, and the man you terrorized was of Fire, too—but you regret it while Hama basked in the terror she evoked." His fists clenched, his own rage at the fact that so many of his race were terrorized by that bitch, ignited. "If she was in front of me, I would execute her on the spot. But you're different. Your heart beats slower when you see people who are suffering, but Hama's heart beats faster when she sees people suffering—and it beats insanely fast when she's the one making people suffer. You couldn't be more different from Hama when you look past the surface."

Katara looked simultaneously convinced and unconvinced. "Maybe you're right. But thank you for not making a big deal out of my bloodbending, even though it was a very big deal."

Zuko nodded. "As I said, I knew why you did it; I always knew why you did it. What I never understood was why you didn't use bloodbending on Yon Rha until Aang mentioned the fact of the full moon. But I understand now."

"Thank you for everything," she breathed, lips stretching in gratefulness. "You were a true friend to me, and you were a true friend right now by talking to me. I hope I can make amends and be a true friend to you."

"You can start by joining the meetings that you asked to join," he offered impulsively, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it, not now—he probably would later, instead.

Katara smiled, blue eyes lighting up. "Really?"

"I can be a benevolent Fire Lord."

"And a merciful one," she added, staring up at him in a way that made his pulse thrum in its intensity.

Zuko cleared his throat and led her out of his private study. "And a hungry one. Let's join the others to eat."

Katara sighed as they passed the Imperial Firebenders. "Sokka's probably made a mess of himself trying to 'beef up' to look like the Boulder."

"His tongue will work it off with all the talking he does," he dismissed.

"But that will make him hungry again, and he'll do the same thing; it will become a cycle."

"I'll ban him from eating any more komodo chicken. If that doesn't work, I'll throw him in the cell that held my father."

Her brows rose. "Maybe you should rethink that benevolent label."

Zuko smirked. "And replace it with wise?"

Katara's laughter didn't provoke his bitterness or anger; he was slipping, but he didn't mind.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Ba Sing Se was different.

Hearing the stories and seeing the wreckage and death firsthand was painful; it reminded him of another story he couldn't comprehend completely and, when he journeyed to see it for himself, broke upon seeing the horrifying, madness-inducing evidence. But he didn't break upon seeing Ba Sing Se like he broke upon seeing the ruins of the Southern Air Temple; he only felt tired gazing upon the decimation.

He had seen a lot during the Great War, seen the horrors and atrocities that break men's minds, but Ba Sing Se's murder surpassed it all—except the Southern Air Temple when he went to visit it after hearing the news of Air's murder.

But he was older now—much older. He couldn't connect emotionally to things like he used to; he couldn't find that rage in his spirit about something so new; he could only find that rage when thinking about things that already happened to him—old things that had never been resolved, or if they had, resolved dissatisfactory.

Minimal success had been achieved in clearing away all the horror and destruction before their arrival; people didn't want to be near Ba Sing Se because they feared The Avatar's return, refusing to devote themselves to rebuilding the great city. Because of it, Ba Sing Se was more like how the Air Temples were after the Attack.

It was up to him and Bor to start its revival.

"Aang," he breathed, staring at the devastation. "Why did you do this?"

"Would he ever do this to Omashu?" Bor asked, voice rising slightly in worry. "Anju would be- "

"Anju will be fine," Bumi cut in firmly. He had left Omashu in Anju's capable hands, trusting her to rule generously but sternly with Batsu offering sage advice when necessary. "Batsu will be fine; Omashu will be fine. Aang's not going to do this ever again."

He believed it, but he knew no one else in the Earth Kingdom did.

"Why isn't he doing this himself?" his grandson demanded, disbelieving. "He should be rebuilding Ba Sing Se, not us. Where is he?"

Bumi had asked himself the same question and had no answer. "I don't know, Bor."

Silence.

"There's a lot of work to do," Bor whispered next to him.

"We can handle it," he assured. "We'll make this a city again; we'll make it Ba Sing Se again—with some changes. I'm going to add a mail chute system."

The morbid part of himself thought that, perhaps, Aang wouldn't destroy Ba Sing Se again if there was a mail chute system.

Bor crossed his arms across his chest. "What about the bodies? There's going to be so many we find that haven't been found yet and pulled out of the rubble."

"We will honor them and give them their rights," Bumi said tiredly. "It will be a lot of work, but they deserve it—all of them."

His grandson glanced at him. "Even Kuei?"

Bumi paused for long moments to consider it—to consider that piece-of-badgermole-shit Kuei. "He won't get a royal burial, but he'll get a burial," he decided. "But that's if Aang left anything of Kuei to find."

Personally, he doubted there would be anything of Kuei left; he liked the sound of that.

"But I don't know how to get people to help us rebuild; I don't know how to soothe their fears of it happening again; I don't know how to get people to populate the city again, to come and live here."

"Toph would know what to say."

Bumi rolled his eyes in disgust. "Don't be so vain as to think she'd do a good job at saying it."

He realized his mistake immediately but couldn't bring himself to regret it; he didn't and never would. It was the truth. However, Bor didn't agree, turning to face him, features flickering with hesitation and doubt before determination won.

Perhaps Bor was more like him than he thought.

"You've never liked Toph," Bor accused. "Why?"

Bumi sighed. In the ruins of Ba Sing Se, they were going to have the conversation they had put off for years, avoiding and evading it like Airbenders.

How fitting.

"I like her, but I don't like her for you," he explained patiently, keeping his voice calm and reasonable. "She walks all over you, and you let her do it. You're going to be a great man, and a great man doesn't let a girl do that to him."

"I'm supposed to walk all over her?" Bor asked, sounding disgusted.

"No. You're not supposed to let her have so much power over you. You can't say her name without- "

Bor's fists clenched. "I love her."

"I'm sure you do," he replied honestly. "But you have decisions to make, Bor—big decisions. Will she make a good queen? We both know she wouldn't."

"You never had a queen," his grandson protested, avoiding the fact that Toph, clearly, wouldn't make a good queen. Instead, he protested another point that had nothing to do with Bumi's point. Bor decided to focus on a false equivalency.

"I didn't need one," Bumi said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "You do."

"But that's not fair, and it doesn't make sense!"

"You're not me, Bor, and you never will be. I'm proud that you want to be like me, and it means a lot, but you're destined to fail—because you're not me and don't know what it means to be me."

Bor stared at him before averting his eyes. "If I knew you then, would we have been friends?"

Bumi had enough strength not to wince, but the pain in his heart was second to the honest knowledge that he would have been disgusted by Bor. But he couldn't admit that ever, and he never would. How do you admit to your grandson that, if you were the man you once were, you would find him weak and pathetic?

"I wouldn't like you, and you wouldn't like me," he said instead. "You only know me as this, but I was once so much more. And you'll be the same one day. When your grandson looks at you, he'll wonder how you were ever anything."

Bor shook his head passionately. "No, that's not true, Grandfather- "

"It is," he insisted. "You look for the Fucker of Fire and find him nowhere."

"Toph didn't see him, either," Bor mumbled, looking away.

Oh, Toph had certainly seen the Fucker of Fire eventually—when she defied his order not to try to tell Bor about his secret. She had wept from fear, pissing herself, during the encounter after he had almost annihilated her, only sparing her because he actually liked her and that Bor clearly loved her so much.

However, Bumi closed his eyes and decided for honesty, choosing to trust Bor a little more than normal. "If I was the Fucker of Fire, Toph would be dead."

Bor startled, looking at him with wide eyes. "What? Why?"

"Because she pissed me off—a lot. And when I was the Fucker of Fire, people who pissed me off had the habit of dying painful deaths."

"Just because I love her- "

"It has nothing to do with your love for her and everything to do with her," he emphasized. "She can't follow orders; she isn't a pillar of reliability. She makes a shit soldier; she honestly shouldn't have accomplished much of what she did during the War."

"Just because she's not like you doesn't make her bad- "

"You want to raise her to queenship," Bumi interrupted. "She has to be worthy of it, and she's not."

"But I'm not worthy of it, either, am I?"

"You're worthy because you're my grandson."

"But I'm not like you."

"No, but that's not what this is about. Toph showed me that she can't make big decisions, and a queen must be able to make big decisions—just as a king must. But you're not making big decisions, Bor. You're following the path she set before you like you're her shadow. You're not her shadow; you're a prince, and soon, you'll be a king. You can't be distracted by Toph."

Bor released a quivering breath but raised his pale face. "You wanted a big decision, Grandfather. Here it is—fuck you. I love Toph, and I'm not going to forget her. I want her."

Bumi's lips twitched in amusement. "That takes strength—well done. I don't say this to you to tell you to forget Toph. I say it so that you're mindful and aware. I say it so that you think about this rather than feel. If you want Toph as your queen, I won't stop you; it's your own decision to make. But you need to be aware of the consequences. If you don't change and Toph doesn't change, you will both fail. And every big decision you make will likely be the wrong one, and each one will haunt you—as my big decisions haunt me."

Bor stiffened in surprise. "What?"

Bumi sighed, knowing the time had come, but he thought he would have more time. Timing would always be a cunt. Toph would probably be pissed that his threat against her had been for nothing in the long run—he sure as shit was pissed about it. "It's time you know the truth, and even if you look at me differently, you need to know now. I need to prepare you."

"For what?"

"For what it means to be king," he explained distantly, feeling the grip of stained blood on his hands; it would never leave. "For what it means to make the big decisions you're going to have to make, especially if this new war grows like I think it will. You and Anju have asked before how I became king, and I told you it was a challenge to Omashu's prince before he took the throne, as Omashu's traditions allow."

Bor looked confused. "What are you saying?"

"I was lying my ass off—and that was back when I had ass to lie off."

"It was a lie?" his grandson echoed incomprehensibly, staring at him with disbelieving eyes.

"I couldn't tell you the truth because it was too painful, and I couldn't have you look at me with disgust, not you and Anju. But now you're a man, and you're inching closer to the big decisions you must confront." Bumi inhaled slowly and gripped Bor by his arms, locking their gazes. "I assassinated my predecessor and his family, eradicating his entire bloodline. That's how I became king."

Bor's eyes bulged from their sockets as he stumbled back; Bumi let him. "No, no, you wouldn't! Never! You're lying!"

"Not anymore," he said softly. "You've always wondered what it meant to be the Fucker of Fire, and this is what it means- "

"But that means you're the Fucker of Earth, too! You murdered a Devi-blessed king!"

"And Devi blessed and cursed me for it," he replied distantly. "I had countless victories, and my legend will live forever in the minds of the Children of Earth. But the real victories that I wanted—the real victories that I dreamed about when I closed my eyes—always slipped out of my grasp after I got close to them."

Bor squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, and Bumi felt the pain in his heart; it rivaled the perpetual pain in his thighs. "Why are you telling me this?" Bor whispered, voice agonized.

Bumi nodded, staring at the tight, clenched muscles of Bor's back. "That was a big decision, and it's stayed with me every day of my life; I think about it—think about them—a lot, especially as I've aged. Gulon deserved it; he was a weak man who only yielded territory to Sozin and couldn't look past his own asshole because his head was stuck up it." He felt indescribably old and heavy, worn and exhausted; it was the comprehension of guilt and regret; it was the comprehension of the truth. "But his family? His wife? His children? His son? His daughters? His cousins? None of them deserved it, but I still made the decision, and I acted on it; I committed the deeds—the slaughter—myself because I trusted no one else to do it, and because a crime of that magnitude could only be mine to commit. I wasn't going to taint anyone else with the horror and blood. And I did it. Part of me died that day with them; I think it was a bigger part than I ever thought. I wish I could say I didn't kill more innocents during the Great War, but I did; I wish I could say I didn't terrorize innocents, but I did. I was hateful, Bor, and I made many big decisions. And some of those big decisions haunt me now—every day I think about them. And I paid for my sins. All my children—gone. The two girls I thought about raising to queen—gone. All my friends in the Order—gone, except for Iroh and Pakku, but they are far away. All I have left, truly left, is you and Anju."

And you, Bor, are the son of the man who raped my daughter, killed my son, and maimed me, he left unsaid.

"Why?" Bor croaked, faltering in his stance; his perception and understanding were shattered.

Bumi only felt mournful and guilty. "Big decisions can haunt you. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did; I want you to be better. If you turn right where I turned left, you'll be alright; you'll be better than me. And that's all I want for you."

Bor sniffed and wiped tears from his eyes; he turned back around, and old eyes met red eyes. "I will be better than you."

"Good," he commended. "But I once thought that I would be good; I thought the decisions I made were the correct ones. It never occurred to me that my decisions could be the wrong ones. You need to consider what you do and the decisions you make."

"Which means consider Toph."

"Yes."

"And the girls you wanted to raise to queen? Was one of them my grandmother?"

"Your grandmother was a whore," he said, voice old but fond; he really had liked her. She possessed a memorable, skilled tongue, which he had enjoyed immensely many times—before she died due to one of the many outbreaks of disease during the Great War because of the infected water supply. "I had a lot of fun with her."

Bor winced. "I don't want to know that."

Bumi smiled. "In the future, you'll want to know more than you think. But she was a non-bender, and that made your mother a weak Earthbender."

"But I inherited your strength," Bor pointed out.

"And your father's," he said, unable to prevent the words.

"He was strong?"

Stronger than any Earthbender I've ever seen, he couldn't say, knowing it would raise more questions—questions that he refused to answer honestly, let alone think about.

"Powerful," he said simply in dismissal, shutting down those thoughts. Bor's father didn't matter; Bor mattered. "You have powerful blood in your veins, Bor, and your children will have powerful blood, even if you choose other than Toph. But with Toph, you can produce the beginnings of a line that could rival Sozin's line."

Bor looked unconvinced but nodded. "I know."

"I'm older now and wiser," he said, voice drifting. "I understand a lot more now; I know what matters. I'm a lot less angry than I used to be—much less hateful, even though I'll always hate. I'm just tired, Bor. And I hate Kuei for doing this, making me work so hard when I want peace, but peace isn't possible now and maybe not for a long time."

He wasn't sure he would ever see peace again during his life; there would never be a return to how it was before the Great War. And he hated Sozin so much for it that he felt like he was choking on all the blood spilled by himself and others during the madness.

"And that will make everyone remember Kuei for a long time—just like Sozin."

"I'll shit all over his memory," he vowed in assurance. "No one will say the name 'Kuei' without thinking of shit. I failed with Sozin, but Sozin was Sozin. Kuei is nothing next to Sozin. I'll destroy his memory."

Bor hesitated. "But The Avatar did this, not Kuei- "

Bumi shook his head. "In reaction. Kuei acted for years to provoke this, and Aang reacted finally—and in ways I never imagined."

He looked back at the ruins of Ba Sing Se, miserable in his exhaustion and knowledge. Everywhere he looked, there was desolation; he looked as far as he could, but he couldn't see past the desolation, too wide and large an area of death to find hope on the horizon.

But he would find that horizon and manifest it for the Children of Earth—as he tried so hard to do in the Great War.

"Help me rebuild," Bumi insisted, gesturing for Bor to follow him. "We have to. This will be your city."

Bor followed him without saying anything, but the silence was soon filled by the rising of Ba Sing Se's walls and the clearing of rubble.

Ba Sing Se's revival had begun.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Samir's progress was unbelievably disappointing—like he knew it always would be!

Aang found his supreme joy in her airbending diminish at her complete inability to comprehend any of the bending forms and philosophy necessary to achieve mastery. She wasn't a natural; she wasn't a prodigy; she wasn't skilled; she wasn't talented.

She was average. If possible, she was less than average.

But he didn't want an average Air! He wanted a superb and sensational Air! He wanted a genius Air! He wanted a prestigious Air! He wanted an elite Air! He wanted a real Air!

Because that was the only way that Air could never be destroyed again! But Samir was, like he always knew she was, an imposter to Air, not worthy of the legacy at all! It was disgraceful and pathetic!

For some reason, for reasons that eluded him except for her intimate experience in watching Zuko's struggles as a child and her own experience under her father, Azula seemed more understanding of Samir's shortcomings, shockingly. He thought she would understand his need for perfection and genius, but she firmly and quite easily argued against him—and he didn't know how she got him to agree with her by the end of it! Because he didn't agree with her, not at all, but he found himself, every single time, relenting to her rationale.

But it wasn't enough! Why couldn't Azula understand? Air needed to be perfect! It was the only reason why he resented her nomination as Mother of Air! She was impure and would never perfect Air, which desperately needed it! He couldn't help but wonder if he would have to kill his children by Azula rather than let them grow into monsters of Sozin's character if there were signs! It was unacceptable! Air needed to be the Air that was, but it couldn't do that if Samir was so lackluster in her ability and Azula only encouraged her calmly but efficiently!

It was maddening!

Watching Samir train and try to follow his instructions brought him no joy nor contentment; it only evoked in him sadness and lament—and frustration. It reminded him of his constant hatred—because nothing was as it should be! Samir wasn't who he should be watching doing the movements so poorly; it should be a real Airbender! She kept doing things wrong, not understanding what he was explaining and describing; she lacked the genius instinct of instant comprehension like he possessed, which is how he had always operated—except for Earth before he comprehended it instantly after his initial struggle.

Even throwing Samir off the top of the Air Temple into the valley below didn't bring him as much delight and pleasure as it initially had. He wanted her to reach out and catch herself with the air, not rely on him to catch her, but she could never do it on instinct; she could do nothing with airbending intentionally, no matter how much he coaxed her and explained everything.

She only used airbending when she wasn't paying attention; she had no control nor instinct.

But bending was all about control and instinct!

"You are intimidating her," Azula warned one time when he felt himself fraying at the edges of his patience in explaining things to Samir.

"I'm not intimidating."

"You are."

He stared at her in disbelief. "And you're not?"

She smirked. "Thank you. However, you know why you are intimidating; I lack that transcendence. You have struggled most minimally in all your bending throughout your life."

Aang felt triumphant. "I struggled with earthbending."

Azula rolled her eyes. "You struggled for a single day before you grasped it and progressed with genius speed. Do not bother denying it—I asked Toph about it. It took me years to master lightning; you executed it perfectly within minutes when I taught you on Ember Island."

He crossed his arms, frustrated. "But why can't Samir get it? That's how it works! I'm saying everything that Gyatso said to me! And Gyatso was the best Airbender in the world! He was the best master and teacher and mentor!"

She was quiet for several moments. "Only the best teaches the best. You are the best, Aang, but Samir is not the best and never will be."

"Because she's not a real Airbender."

"If you think such things, she will never accomplish anything. That is the struggle you must master- "

"I'm tired of struggling. I want her to get it and be an Airbender—a real Airbender! Why can't she get it? What's the problem?"

"My father remarked something similar about Zuko when he was a child."

Aang flinched. "That's different- "

Azula's brow rose. "Is it? You pressure her to be something she is not- "

"I made her an Airbender," he protested vehemently. "I manifested her ancestral connection! She should understand it! She says she feels Air, but she does nothing to prove it, except for happy accidents when she sneezes or accidentally runs fast! She needs to make gusts and ride airballs! She needs to mimic me! She needs to be a real Airbender like all the ones I grew up with- "

"She needs to progress at the pace she can; you cannot dictate her pace, or she will fail, which you do not want."

He stared at her uncomprehendingly; it was painful. "Why don't you understand? I need her to be capable so Air can be perfect- "

"Why is perfection so necessary?"

"It's the only way Air will never be destroyed again!"

Azula opened her mouth but closed it quickly; her brows furrowed, and something considering crossed her face. "Air can be perfect as the collective, but each Child of Air cannot be perfect- "

Aang shook his head. "No. Only if each Child of Air is perfect can Air be perfect—like it was. That's how it was before. And Samir's failing because she's not a real Airbender. But she's all I have! She's all I can have! She's not enough! I knew this would happen! Why did I let Pathik talk me into this? This was a stupid thing to do!"

She inhaled slowly with measured breaths. "My mind broke because such perfection was demanded of me."

"That's different- "

"How?" she asked, but he saw the displeasure in her golden eyes.

"Because I need to perfect Air and make it stronger and purer, so that crime can never happen to us again," he explained. "Your father demanded perfection because he was cruel and a terrible father; he wanted conquest."

Azula's brows rose; she looked unimpressed. "Father wanted a world of only Fire—perfection. That seems to reflect your yearning for Air's perfection."

Aang remembered Vaatu's proposition at the Tree of Time—how he would 'return' Air to the world, which turned into a bold deception that enraged him. "No, the world needs all the Elements. But Air is vulnerable and has been for 109 years. Perfecting it is the only way to prevent- "

"The Genocide from happening again," she finished.

Finally, she understood!

"Yes," he breathed in relief.

However, Azula looked annoyed rather than enlightened. What was going on? "You remind me of my father with your insistence about this."

"I'm nothing like Ozai."

A flash of anger appeared behind her vivid annoyance. "You cannot make that judgment, for you have no experience with my father but in combat. You have never conversed with him about subjects and philosophy; he is most intelligent."

"I don't need to," he pointed out, crossing his arms, insulted that she dared compare him to Ozai. She should know better! "He's a threat I'm going to neutralize."

Azula frowned; her jaw tensed. "Tell me, Avatar—what does Air say about perfection?"

He stiffened and exhaled a ragged breath. "That it's the enemy."

"Why do you strive to shape Air around an ethic that it does not agree with?"

Aang refused to answer for long moments, bitterness and resentment clashing into something unholy inside him. "Because it works," he said through gritted teeth. "You should understand that."

Azula smiled slightly, but there was a subtle pain on her face. "I wish it worked, but it does not, which is why I warn you of its inevitable failure. I worshipped that philosophy; I prostrated myself ardently—but it did not love me as I loved it. It broke my mind in the end, and I am elite. It will break Samir much sooner than it broke me." She approached, and he couldn't look away from her magnetic golden eyes, which were sharp and observant. "Samir is so joyful about being an Airbender; she loves it."

Aang's eyes drifted shut. "Yes."

"Open your eyes." His eyes snapped open at her order, connecting with her gaze. "Do you love that she loves Air? Do you love that she has such joy for Air?"

"Of course, I do."

"Do you want to smother Samir's joy in being an Airbender?"

Aang was appalled. "Of course not!"

Azula's eyes gleamed with triumph. "Then do not force perfection on her."

"I'm not forcing it; I'm trying to teach her- "

"By enforcing perfection," she concluded, daring him to contradict her. "Samir is a child, Aang. She must be taught patiently and wisely. What you do now reeks of folly. It is an incomprehension of difference. You think she is like you and should progress like you."

"No, I don't- "

"You know she cannot, but you expect it of her; you are beginning to demand it."

Aang sighed. "Maybe."

Azula's eyes narrowed slightly. "There is no maybe. Accept it. Upon sparring against you on Ember Island, I realized how much farther I must progress, how much more I must learn," she said, surprising him. "Aang, I never defeated you once in our spars, and I am elite. It is sobering; it is intimidating. Zuko, Toph, and… Katara had the easiest time training you because you are the most splendid student possible, prodigious in all aspects of bending, instant in comprehension and retention. But Samir is not you. You cannot expect so much of Samir; she is not like you."

His jaw clenched. "I thought that, since I made her an Airbender, she would become more like me- "

Azula laughed slightly, amused. "A bender's chi has nothing to do with a bender's mind. It is her mind which needs your help, not her chi. Yes, her chi flows with mediocre energy- "

"It's less than that," he muttered. "It's not what it should be."

"- but it is her mind that must connect with that energy and learn how to wield it and harness it until the process is seamless."

"That's what I've been telling her!"

"She is a child- "

"When I was her age, I was- "

Azula glared at him. "No. That is a doomed philosophy. No one compares to you at your age, whatever the age. Samir has a burden I wish on no one—she must live up to your severe expectations."

He recalled her nomination for the Mother of Air and how she had to live up to his expectations; he looked away, disgruntled and dissatisfied. "I need her to be- "

"It is no longer about what you need, Aang," she pointed out. "All masters realize this in teaching others. It is about what the student needs."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. "I can only give her what she needs if I have what I need."

Azula stared at him critically. "What you need is not something that Samir can provide."

"Because she has no control nor instinct."

"She does not," Azula agreed, calm. "But will that stop you? Will you let that tarnish this joyful endeavor?"

Aang exhaled roughly, the terrible truth ravishing his spirit; he felt exhausted. "I'm not the right mentor for her; I'm a terrible teacher and master."

Azula's silence for several moments confirmed her agreement with his painful observation. "Perhaps you can learn to be. You are the master of learning in each lifetime, yes?"

"I don't know if I've taught bending in any of my lifetimes. I don't know how to teach. I get it; it makes sense and is comprehensible, from the beginning to the end; it's all waiting there for me! I just have to look at it, and want to look at it, which was my problem with earthbending for that single day, and it's all mine. Why can't it be like that for Samir? Why can't she just be a real Airbender like all the ones I knew?"

"She is not The Avatar, and you are."

Aang shook his head. "It has nothing to do with me being The Avatar; it's with me being Aang."

Azula gazed at him, silent; she was unreadable; she looked too similar to how she looked when initially encountering Koh—and he hated it! "Aang is The Avatar- "

"Don't you dare assume you understand it," he snapped. "What have I told you? Aang and The Avatar aren't the same."

She waved a hand, displeased. "Yet the name The Avatar has chosen in this life is Aang- "

"The Avatar has nothing to do with this! I thought you said you were no longer interested in The Avatar!"

Azula's eyes widened slightly before she frowned; she looked irritated. "I am interested in Samir and her ability to master airbending- "

The air howled before he controlled it. "And I'm not? It's clear that she can't master anything! I should have never agreed to this!"

She stared at him fearlessly. "I think you are not only interested in Samir; I think you are also interested in yourself. You said you should not be her mentor, and you are correct. But you must be her mentor and make adjustments. It will be difficult, but you will triumph."

He flinched as his face scrunched. "I'm tired of things being hard. Once Air's revival began, it was supposed to become easy, but it feels even harder now." Aang gazed at the various statues in the halls of former Air Nomads, all of whom would be more worthy mentors than him. "I shouldn't be the Last of Air. I destroyed Air once, and I'll do it again. I know it."

Azula's eyes narrowed. "No, what you know are your limitations. Now you must work to meet Samir in the middle. She is willing; she is eager. But you must be willing and eager to accept her how she is as a student; she will not ride tornadoes for many years, perhaps decades—perhaps never."

He cringed. "But I want her to- "

"And I wanted my father to love me," she said with more heat in her voice than normal. "Wanting brings nothing without competent solution. There was no competent solution to earn my father's regard but to empty myself and drive myself to madness. Will Samir drive herself to madness in her quest to please you?"

Aang felt horrified. "Of course not!"

"How do you know?" Azula challenged flatly, golden eyes on fire. "Whether you like it or not, you remind me of him right now. Father never changed his outlook, and he never will—that is his sin. Will you change your outlook, Aang?"

His fists clenched. "I've already done that- "

"Remember what you told me about the source of Power?" she interrupted, gazing up at him boldly; he would admire her if he weren't so frustrated and aggravated. "You said Power's nature is coercion or liberation; it's power over versus power for."

Aang inhaled slowly for control. "What's your point? Power has nothing to do with Samir."

Azula's golden eyes gleamed. "Power is the nature of your relationship with her—and your relationship with any mortal. You are The Avatar- "

"I don't care about The Avatar!" he snapped. "I would kill The Avatar if I was noble enough."

"As you have claimed already," she drawled, unimpressed. "There is power in all relationships, Aang. But the relationship must be complementary; each side must have power, not only one side—not only you. In the beginning of relationships, I imagine, you have all the power, for you are The Avatar, and the weight and authority of your nature is felt by everyone who meets you, particularly since you are mature now. This includes Samir, whether she is aware of it. I have watched you train her, and when you become demanding- "

"I don't become demanding- "

"Yes, you do—because you are frustrated so easily when Samir does not understand instantly and mimic you while following your instructions. Your demands sound harsh and brisk. It influences Samir, and she remembers your innate authority, faltering in her joy and determination; she is desperate to please you and make you proud, make you love her. All the power is held by you. Samir must have a say, and you give her no say. You must change that."

"She has a say- "

"How?" she challenged.

"I tell her to ask questions!" he exploded, feeling on the verge of his sanity. "I tell her that she can stop when she needs to!"

Azula hummed. "Is it genuine?"

"Of course, it's genuine!"

"But does she think it is genuine?"

"How would I know?"

"You must know your student, Aang," she advised; there was a memory playing in her golden eyes, which he could not glimpse. "I suspect that she thinks, formally, she can ask questions and stop when she needs to, but informally, she cannot. Informality often defeats formality, especially for children." A glimpse of mischief crossed her face. "That was how it was for Zuko and I as children in the palace. You know I am right."

Aang looked away, disgruntled. "I guess."

Azula reached up and gripped his jaw; he allowed her to turn his head to meet her insistent gaze. "Will Samir achieve mastery through coercion or liberation?"

He ripped her hand away with a harsh flourish. "Gyatso never struggled teaching me- "

"You are not Gyatso," she replied, serene and composed. "How would Gyatso teach Samir?"

"I'm teaching her the same way he taught me!"

Azula sighed. "What works for one student does not always work for another student. In this case, how Gyatso taught you does not work for Samir. You told me that the other Airbenders in the Southern Temple were novices compared to you."

Aang flinched at the memory—the isolation and loneliness and heartache he felt due to the disparity between him and the other boys. The other boys never liked him as much as they liked each other; they always treated him differently, even before he learned he was The Avatar. But it was always bearable—until everyone learned he was The Avatar.

"They were," he admitted with a deep frown—whether at her line of thought or the memories, he wasn't sure. "But they were still real Airbenders- "

"Samir is a real Airbender—because she is an Airbender and living in the world, which makes her real. Your memory of those you knew before is no longer real as all those Airbenders are dead- "

"What about the boys I grew up with?" he barked, refusing to acknowledge that painful truth.

It would destroy him if he did.

Her brows rose in challenge. "Were they taught the same way you were?"

No.

There had been times when he had tried—really tried—to help the other boys master a technique that they were struggling with, but every time he tried, he could never help the other boys; they always got angry at him for confusing them. They said that Gyatso was teaching him wrong because the other mentors said to do things, master the techniques, in a different way.

"No, they weren't," Aang answered quietly. "Things were different. That's how it always was. I could never be like all the other boys. There was always something different about me, even from the beginning—I see that now. There were so many signs; there were so many things that I forced myself to overlook in fear of what I would find or figure out if I thought about it."

"Thus, things must be different with Samir," she consoled softly. "Why do you demand so much meditation from her? Why is meditation all you do? Why so much of it?"

"That's what Gyatso and I would do."

She looked doubtful. "You only meditated?"

"Of course not," he defended, feeling vulnerable. "We would meditate first and then we would practice forms and techniques; then we'd play games," he recalled, the grief stealing his breath—as always. "Sometimes we would go into the valley and race up the mountain through whatever means of airbending we were capable of, and whoever won would get an extra fruit pie." A raw laugh escaped him, and the first smile on his face in a long time stretched in memory. "One time, I hid Appa about a third up the mountain without telling Gyatso, and when I reached Appa during the race, we flew up the mountain and beat Gyatso." Something choked seized hold of his throat. "But Gyatso wasn't mad that I cheated. He said he was proud of my clever thinking; he said to always think outside of the box."

Azula nodded, and her lips quirked kindly. "Why not think outside of the box now for Samir? Help her as Gyatso helped you."

"I wish he could help me now," Aang breathed, devastated. "I need him here. He should be teaching Samir, not me. He was perfect. I don't know what I'm doing."

She nodded; there was a warmth on her face. "Did you enjoy the games with Gyatso the most?"

"Yes."

"Of course," she agreed knowingly. "I suspect Samir would love games as well."

He frowned. "I already throw her off the top of the temple into the valley and catch her."

Azula rolled her eyes. "That is madness, not a game- "

"It's fun," he defended. "Samir thinks so."

"Airbenders," she murmured without derision; she sounded rather fond, actually. "Why not race her like Gyatso used to? Not up the mountain, no, but perhaps first to the kitchen. Perhaps first to the airball court. I have noticed when she runs, she often uses airbending without realizing."

Aang hesitated. "I told her to stop doing that because it's not controlled or instinctive. Control only is mastered by following instinct, and instinct is born of awareness, but she has no awareness when she does it when she runs. That must change."

Azula stared at him knowingly. "I think you might need to change that. Perhaps she must run with airbending to become aware that she is doing it. She is not like you, Aang. You had awareness from the beginning; she must be taught awareness. You must go slow with her."

He gave up. "Maybe you're right," he admitted. "I thought you would be on my side, but you keep arguing with me."

"I am on Air's side," she clarified. "And though you are of Air, you do not always think clearly."

Reminded of her nomination for Mother of Air, he crossed his arms. "That's not your responsibility."

"Yet I take it on," Azula commented idly with a wave of her hand. "I am most generous and benevolent. However, there is more to my disagreement. I have seen firsthand and experienced the demands for perfection from my father- "

Aang stiffened. "I'm not Samir's father; I'm her mentor."

She raised a brow. "Is that not the same? Did Gyatso not love you the way I wished my father would love me?"

"I'll stop demanding perfection," he sighed, too exhausted to continue battling verbally. "I'll start with games and then work to meditation, not the other way around."

"Most wise," she commended.

Unfortunately, while Samir loved the games and racing, where she used airbending unintentionally, no improvement was miraculously made like Aang had hoped for; there were still the same problems and issues. In the two weeks since his return from the Immortal Realm and facing Vaatu, where he could have obtained the spirits of his race, who could guide him in teaching Samir, he only felt more frustrated; he felt it building and building inside him.

He felt terrified that he would commit another atrocity like Ba Sing Se.

How did Gyatso do it? How would he teach Samir?

Aang had felt his burden as the Last of Air countless times and always on a fundamental level, but he thought once he met or sired another Airbender, his burden would lessen. However, he felt his burden more than before—because he had to make all the decisions. There was no one to challenge him.

Well, Azula challenged him, but would that be enough? If she became Mother of Air, would she still challenge him and help him revive Air as best as possible, or would, once she received the renown of the position, become lethargic and uncaring? Was she putting on a performance for him to entice him, or was she genuine in her yearning to help and strengthen Air?

He leaned towards the latter, but he couldn't overlook the possibility, no matter that it seemed to become slimmer and slimmer with each passing day, that she was performing for him to deceive him, to trick him into giving her that renown and power.

She was an heir of Sozin.

Aang brushed his fingers across the murals and mosaics on the walls, staring at the faces he had never met. However, before he could ask aloud what he needed to do, Toph stomped down the hall with determination on her face. When she reached him, she pointed at him and grabbed him by the sleeve.

"We're having that talk, Twinkletoes."

He knew instantly what she alluded to and decided not to fight her; he rather looked forward to releasing his frustration.

She led him to one of the fountains, a place that, he noted, was located centrally; she would not be at a disadvantage if a fight erupted. "You're pissed at me," she began, crossing her arms. "Let's hear it."

Aang stared at her for several moments. "And you're mad at me."

"You're an asshole."

"You're a bitch."

Toph cracked her knuckles. "Perfect. Keep going. Let's get it all out."

He shook his head. "I'm still going to be angry at you after this."

"And I'll be angry at you. You deserve it."

"Why do I deserve it?" he asked, voice light to keep control. "Do you think you don't?"

"Fine. I didn't do things as I should have," Toph said, toes flecking small pebbles.

Aang was quiet for several moments before sighing. "I didn't, either. I'm not sure anyone did anything right. Maybe Zuko."

"He did avert war for over eight years," she pointed out with little happiness in her voice; she suddenly seemed tired and worn, like stone withered by the force of wind. "But you did, too—you did that right, at least. You did other things right, like restoring the Air Temples. This place feels amazing; I've never felt anything like it, and I know the Western will be the same if I ever visit there again—if you let me."

"I'd let you," he assured. "But thanks. It was hard work to rebuild."

Toph slumped. "I should have helped you rebuild; I could have been a big help."

On second thought, he clearly wasn't ready for this conversation and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his hands across his face. "I know."

"I know you know, Aang," she snapped, frustrated. "You've always known it, haven't you? But I haven't known it! I kept telling myself that I did what I needed to do, but I didn't do shit! And the only good thing that I had going for me I ruined! The only thing I did right after the War was telling my parents to fuck off—but after that, nothing! You should throw me off the temple like Samir!"

Aang briefly considered it—because he had already considered it during his angriest moments—before laughing; he felt no amusement. "You'd hate me for doing that—but that doesn't change anything, does it? You already hate me."

Toph tensed and was quiet for too long. "I hate feeling you like this," she said eventually. "I don't feel my friend anymore. Are we even friends now?"

"You already answered that by saying you don't feel your friend anymore," he observed bitterly.

"You know what I mean- "

"No, I don't—because we haven't talked like this since the War!"

Toph scoffed and kicked one of the pebbles hard enough to leave a crack in the ground, which she hastily prepared before he could erupt in fury that she dared desecrate the sacred grounds of the Air Temple. "That's not only on me, Twinkletoes—it's on you, too. But you liked staying away, didn't you?"

Aang stared at her for several moments before looking away; he found it easier to speak without looking at her, which mimicked her style of speech. "You all went home, but no one realized that I didn't have a home; I haven't had a home since before I learned I'm The Avatar. But you were my home—all of you. But you still had homes, and I wasn't your home; I wasn't part of your home. Your homes were elsewhere, and I wasn't welcome, not part of the family. You had homes, and I didn't—and you took advantage and didn't think of me. You left; you left me."

"You had Avatar duties- "

"If you think I've ever cared about being The Avatar, you're a bigger idiot than Sozin; I hate The Avatar."

She blew the bangs out of her eyes, quiet. "Why didn't you come with me?"

"I wouldn't have been welcome," he reminded with less patience. "Your parents hate me because, in their eyes, I stole their daughter from them. They would have demanded I leave, and I would have had to. But you didn't even ask me to go with you; you never asked what I was going to do." Aang gripped his glider before slackening his grip. "I've never been able to figure out if that was because you didn't care or you were incompetent."

Her face pinched. "I had other things on my mind- "

He nodded knowingly, almost aggressively. "Because I didn't matter then, right? Once the War was over, I didn't matter. You never cared about Aang; you only cared about The Avatar!"

Toph's face scrunched. "Fuck off with that, Aang. I thought you'd be okay! How was I supposed to know you couldn't handle being a man?"

The ground cracked beneath his feet before he repaired it. "Because I wasn't a man! I was the youngest out of all of us, and I still hadn't adjusted to being The Avatar and the last of my race!"

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"By using your imagination!" Aang snapped. "You were imaginative enough to master unorthodox earthbending! Why weren't you imaginative enough to realize anything about me?" The answer was clear, but it hollowed his spirit—as it always did. "Because you didn't care about me as much as you thought you did."

Toph was quiet before nodding. "You're right. But you also never cared for us as much as you thought, either. It's always about Air with you. We're second-rate next to them and always will be."

"Of course," Aang agreed because it was obvious, feeling no shame in admitting that clear, impossible-to-deny fact; it was the easiest thing in the world to admit. Air was better than everything else and anything else he could have; Air was better than any friends or family he could ever have. Gyatso was better than anyone in the Gaang and Azula; Gyatso was better than anyone in history; Gyatso was better than The Avatar. "You are second-rate in every way; you all are. Everyone in this time is; this time is damned and evil! But still, out of everyone, Zuko was the one who asked me to stay with him; he welcomed me into his home and spent every day with me. He chased me from the South to the North, and everywhere in between, but he was the one to understand friendship. So, because it was only Zuko who ever noticeably cared about me after the War, it became clear to me at the beginning that I wasn't wanted or welcome anywhere but the Caldera. It was hard at the beginning to stay away, but I got used to it; I adapted; I got good at it. I never wanted to be good at that. I hate that you helped make me good at it."

She crossed her arms. "You wouldn't have found me anyway- "

"You could have written a letter with someone's help- "

"Same for you!"

His fists clenched. "But I never knew where you were! You always knew where I was! All you had to do was send a letter to one of the Air Temples, and you knew I'd receive it. But I never knew where you were after you ran away from your parents. I would have had to send countless letters across the entire Earth Kingdom, and even then, I probably wouldn't have ever received a response!"

Toph was silent. "I'll agree with that—if you agree with the fact that it was the same for you writing a letter to Katara and Sokka in the South."

Aang's eyes widened before they narrowed. "Don't take their side. We're not talking about them; they're not part of this."

"I can't help but wonder if they are!" she snapped, digging her feet in the ground. "I think you're grouping me with them."

"We were a group- "

She held up three fingers. "You three were the first group; you three were the heart of the group because it all started with you and them. I came along later to make it four."

"I'm not talking about them," he declared, adamant. "You said you wanted to have the conversation, but now you're deflecting, making it about them. How very Airbender of you, Master Earthbender."

Toph jabbed a finger at him as she scoffed, broken. "You are so fucking unlikeable. If I didn't know the unfortunate truth that you actually are Aang, I'd kill you for claiming to be him."

Silence.

Aang gazed at her, seeing the sheen in her eyes; she looked near tears. "Were we ever really friends?" he asked quietly. "Were any of us friends? We were united by the single cause to end the Great War, but, clearly, that wasn't enough for our friendship—if we ever had a friendship. Maybe we only ever had an alliance."

Toph shook her head ardently. "No. I don't agree with that. We made mistakes along the way; we were children. We're friends—we're friends."

"But I don't know if those mistakes are ones that we can come back from. At least, I won't come back from them, and none of you deserve to."

Toph looked disgusted. "You know, you always talked about Air's ethic of forgiveness and everything. But you don't forgive at all, do you?"

Aang glared at her. "I forgave Azula."

"Badgermole shit," she dismissed with a mocking laugh. "If you'd forgiven her, you'd be fucking her right now, milking yourself in her, and starting Air's rebirth. But you can't forgive her lineage, which starts with Sozin."

"That's not true," he denied.

Toph jabbed a finger at him. "Don't fucking lie to me, Aang. I don't like it."

"Don't pretend you understand anything about this," Aang snapped, gripping his glider to prevent from reaching out and breaking her finger. "I have my reasons for everything that I do and have done- "

"Does that include Ba Sing Se?"

Silence.

Aang squeezed his eyes shut to repel Gyatso's ghost before inhaling slowly. "I was selfish, and I didn't care in the moment; I didn't care what I was doing right then and there. And I hate that; I hate myself; I hate The Avatar."

Toph looked surprised that he had admitted anything. "We're friends, Aang," she said after several moments. "We're friends who are angry at each other, but we're still friends."

"I wanted my friends after the War, but they weren't there," he pointed out, pained but bitter. "You weren't there. Why weren't you there?"

"I needed to visit my parents- "

"But why didn't you come to me after that?" Aang demanded, something hysterical and broken crushing his spirit. "I could have helped you. We could have been each other's friend—like we once were."

Toph sniffed; her gray eyes were milky with emotion. "I wanted to at first. I heard stories of The Avatar across the Earth Kingdom, and I traveled to find you, but I always missed you. I did that for a few months before I stopped; I stopped trying to find you."

Aang stepped closer, desperate. "Why?"

"I didn't want you to lecture me," she confessed, shrugging her shoulders, but her face was tight. "I thought you would be disappointed in me running away; I was ashamed and scared. I thought you may have changed, and I didn't want you to change from my Aang—so I stopped looking."

"Not very Earthbender of you," he pointed out softly.

Her resulting smile was bitter and raw. "But very Earthbender in choosing to stick to my decision. Very stubborn."

"I don't know what to do about this," he said finally after a long pause. "I really don't."

Toph jutted her chin out. "We weren't friends after the War—that much is clear. We both failed."

"You failed more than I did," Aang added with resentment.

She sighed. "We were friends before the War but not after. I'd like to be friends again."

Aang felt the intense longing but also hesitation; he felt distrustful and bitter. "I don't know how to do that."

"We can spar," Toph offered, looking eager and hopeful. "It's been forever since we've done that. And you've clearly got a lot better—a lot."

"I'm better than you."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'll test that."

"Will this new friendship pass the test?"

Silence.

"If I can be friends with Azula out of anyone, I can be friends with this Aang."

Aang inhaled slowly before he nodded. "Does Azula know you consider her a friend?"

"I'll deny it if you tell her."

"And I'll deny it if you tell everyone we're friends again."

He wasn't going to trust her, but he would give her a chance—quietly.

Toph snorted. "I can live with that. Now, about that spar…"

Remembering his vow to never use any element but Air on the temple grounds, he smiled. "I'm going to throw you off the temple."

Her face paled. "No, no- "

Aang dashed forward with the speed of the wind, picked Toph up before she could react, though she had started to, and bolted through the hall and to the ledge; he leaped off with Toph screaming at him unintelligibly. The wind in his face felt delightful and soothing, but Toph's shrieks provided the music he usually heard.

It was funny.

When he landed in the valley gently, Toph leaped off him with a croak and rubbed the dirt all over herself, rolling and writhing to feel everything; she cuddled the stones and glared up at him. "I take it back! All the way back! Around the world and back! We're not friends, Twinkletoes! Fuck you! I'm going to hate you for the rest of my life!"

Aang laughed. "Show me how much you mean it in the spar."

Without saying anything else, she attacked, and Aang responded—Earth versus Earth.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Azula was worried.

Ever since experiencing Vaatu in the Immortal Realm, her concern mounted, for she had seen Vaatu's power—a mere taste, she knew, but it was enough. Aang had barely been able to flee with her in time to preserve themselves.

It was imperative that he master his chakras, but she had no idea how he could achieve it. He was not ready, and it was painfully obvious, even to Toph, who did not understand the nuances of chakras. Azula herself did not fully understand them like Pathik, but since she achieved mastering them, her understanding was better than anyone but Pathik and Aang's.

But Aang was not interested in trying to master his chakras, not since his attempts initially had been disastrous. Even Azula had not expected him to struggle so powerfully; she had shared Pathik's judgment that Aang would master three to four chakras before it became apparent that was an impossibility.

Aang had only mastered one chakra.

It showed when he battled Vaatu in the Spirit World. However, she was relieved that they had returned relatively unscathed, for the possibility of their defeat was much more likely than survival, let alone success. It was a profound comfort that Aang had not become the Night to herald Vaatu's Darkness, for while she conversed with Father, it was the only thing consuming her thoughts.

Next to the absolute need to not arouse Father's suspicion, of course.

She had no idea what Vaatu showed Aang or told him, but it had produced in him a change since their return to the Mortal Realm almost three weeks ago; there seemed to be a darkened bitterness that seemed comfortable for him. It was like he had slipped into an old cloak or garment, at ease and almost relieved for the familiar. If he had reverted to who he was before the vacation on Ember Island, like she suspected, which had already been happening since he awakened after Ba Sing Se, she could not imagine any scenario in which he mastered his chakras any time soon, let alone soon enough to defeat Vaatu before the new war erupted.

There was overwhelming evidence that Pre-vacation Aang had been lingering since Ba Sing Se's murder, haunting the air, for it had been a long time since she had seen Vacation Aang, the one who attracted her and with whom she fell in love, though she loved Pre-vacation Aang, as well—how could she not?

The worry gnawed at her, settling in her chest in a weight that hounded her thoughts and mental energies. There was no clear solution; it was messy, and she despised messiness! Simultaneously, they needed to stay at the Eastern Temple so Aang could reach the point in which he could achieve master of his chakras, but they also needed to depart and reunite with her brother and the others to conceive a plan against the enemy, about whom they had received confirmation from the Face Stealer.

If they stayed at the Eastern Temple, she feared Aang would become so frustrated with Samir's painful lack of progress and ability that he would alienate her and smother her overwhelming, innocent joy in being an Airbender, which would hinder his ability to master his chakras. However, if they left the Eastern Temple to reunite with her brother and the others, she feared that his proximity to the Water Tribes peasants—Katara and Sokka—would diminish any small progress he had made until there was only deterioration.

Azula could discern no winning strategy, and always in war, there was a point where there was no winning strategy available. However, the fact that the point had been reached so quickly at the beginning of the new war was dreadful, for it suggested powerfully that, going forward, nothing would change. There would be no good decisions, only less desperate decisions. There were only evil choices, and they would have to discern which evil was lesser than the other.

It did not bode well.

It had occurred to her that she could flee and abandon her quest, her position as someone mostly trusted by The Avatar; she could choose to abstain from joining the new war, which was obviously inevitable; she could choose to start a new life, free from the immense and challenging burdens, which would more than likely rob her of years of her life, elsewhere; she could choose to take the easy path and withdraw from hardship and complexity.

But she never would. She had chosen the easy path once in relenting to Father's pressures and disregard, his dreadful demands of perfection, rather than fighting against him as Zuko did. She would not choose the easy path again, especially not for something like the new war. She knew, in her spirit, that she was to play an integral part; she was needed.

Aang—and, thus, the world, which included Fire and Air—needed her help.

Holding such profound fondness for The Avatar was a dangerous thing. However, she found extensive pleasure and delight as her experience with Father, which brimmed with danger, was so similar but different. With Father, she had to worry often and did but always because of him; with Aang, she worried for him—and the world with Vaatu's rise.

It was intriguing and fascinating.

She would fight with Aang and for Aang, and she would never waver in her endeavor.

Azula wandered the halls of the temple, looking for Aang, resolving to gather his thoughts about their next step. As she passed beautiful murals depicting Air Nomads and sky bison, she wished, not for the first time, that she could have seen what the temple looked like before Sozin was manipulated—he was not the villain of the story but a powerful pawn who made his choices but was guided into making his choices!—into starting the Great War by murdering Air, ravishing all four Air Temples and all the inhabitants.

It was remarkably peaceful, beautiful, and freeing at the Eastern Air Temple, more so than any other place where she had been, and she suspected it was the same at all the Air Temples. She loved her time at the temple, and if she were honest, she could see herself living at the temple, or any Air Temple, residing in peace and freedom. It was nothing like the Caldera, not one bit; there, expectations had always bore down on her like the sky itself, crushing her under the insurmountable weight, and most importantly, memories did not lurk around every corner in the temple conformed into the shape of Father.

But while she experienced no haunting memories, she knew Aang did.

Many times, since Aang had awakened from his slumber after Ba Sing Se, she had caught his longing looks to rooms that were now sparse; it must have been truly beautiful before the Great War, filled with Airbenders, vigor, and freedom. He would stare at nothing, such as a wall or pillar, agonized, moving his head around as if he followed something.

Though she never asked, she suspected that he saw the ghosts of the temple, and his mind and memory informed him of who should be there, but though he looked to and fro, there was no one; there were only imposters.

It was a morose fact that registered with her the longer their stay at the temple endured.

Finally, after walking to her favorite fountain, she found Aang.

She watched him for long moments, wondering how to raise her concern about his lack of mastered chakras without angering him. A reasonable argument did not seem likely, nor did a logical one, but there was no emotional argument possible for mastering his chakras—none that she could discern. Aang was remarkably reasonable and capable of extensive logic, but when it came to Air, around which his lack of mastered chakras encircled, he was compromised severely.

Azula had no idea how to solve that crisis, except for him mastering his chakras, which was a proven impossibility—due to its shared essence at Air's murder!

It was complex.

Normally, she delighted in complexity and anticipated its presence, but it was too complex for her; she could not solve it. It was up to Aang to solve it, but she was unsure he could solve it swiftly; he would solve it eventually, she knew, but time was not on their side.

They needed a quick and efficient solution!

"If you want to spar, Toph might be better than me," Aang called out with his back still to her, somehow feeling her presence. "She's frustrated she lost when we sparred."

Azula approached him. "Earthbending?" she asked, assuming that he mimicked Toph's sensory perception through her feet.

"Airbending," he replied distantly, staring at his reflection in the fountain.

Azula narrowed her golden eyes. "Airbending? How could you know I was there with airbending?"

"I can feel the vibrations in the air before people even move; every breath is a song in my soul. I see everything around me with airbending, similar to Toph's ability to see with earthbending. It works with the others, too. I sense body heat, and if you're carrying or drinking water, I sense you. Under the Full Moon, I sense the blood in your body and know where you are."

"Fascinating," she commented. "Those talents can be wielded to powerful effect."

"I'm aware."

Silence.

"You sparred with Toph?" she clarified, surprised slightly.

Aang glanced at her, irritated. "Yes, she's still alive- "

"That is not what I meant. Where did you spar?"

"In the valley."

That explained why she never felt the temple shaking. "Earthbending versus earthbending?"

"Yes."

"And you won?"

"Yes."

"Naturally," she drawled, brows furrowing. Clearly, his success in defeating Toph had not delighted him or relieved him of his burdens temporarily. Why was he sullen and distant? Only conversation would reveal the source. "How did you defeat her?"

"By not holding back."

His vague answers grated on her, and she elected with a blunter approach. Toph would approve. "Why are you sullen and distant? I thought sparring would relieve you of your burdens."

Silence.

"I didn't want to spar, at least not with her," Aang said finally.

Azula smirked. "If you wanted to spar with me, you merely had to ask- "

"I wanted to spar with another Airbender, but there was no one."

That explained his mood perfectly. "And Samir is not ready," she concluded quietly in realization, wishing she was surprised by his profound irritation with Samir's mediocrity and lack of 'real airbending-ness,' but she was not; she suspected he would always be irritated by Samir's mediocrity and lack of 'real airbending-ness.'

Aang's jaw ticked. "She's never going to be ready."

"You have a low estimation of her capabilities- "

He glanced at her, irritated; his gray eyes flashed. "I'm an Airbender. I know what I'm talking about; I know what she can do and what she can't do; I know what she'll become and what she won't become. She's not a real Airbender! She's worthless!"

"You do not mean that- "

"She has no talent or understanding; she's terrible! There always has to be a foundation from which to build for any bender, but she has no foundation. It's been weeks, and there's nothing. It's disgusting!"

Azula sighed, quiet for several moments, wondering how many times they had to have the same conversation. "She may surprise you. She has surprised me. I am most fond of her."

"I'm fond of her, too," he said quietly, eyes rooted on his reflection in the fountain; she stood next to him, lower in height and stature, but there all the same. She quite admired how they looked next to each other. "But I'm frustrated."

"That is how I feel towards you," Azula dared, watching him.

Aang laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound; it was nothing like the delightful laugh she enjoyed. "Why are you frustrated with me?"

"You do not dedicate yourself to mastering your chakras- "

Any slim amusement on his face vanished in his reflection. "I'm not talking about that."

"You must- "

The water roiled in the fountain, reacting as ripples swept through, waves lashing up towards where they stood near the edge. "I'm not talking about that."

When he had spoken of his ability to see objects with airbending earlier, Azula realized that she must be able to do the same with firebending. Everyone had a certain body temperature; Firebenders burn hotter than anyone, and if she focused, she should be able to see her surroundings, see things by the heat given emanating from objects and people.

Azula closed her golden eyes briefly, focusing on her inner flame. She began looking for warmth elsewhere, away from herself and she was rewarded when she felt a beacon of incredible and sizzling heat next her—Aang.

He was upset.

She chose to tactically retreat and, thus, advance into another volatile subject. "You frustrate me by your insistence about Air."

The air became oppressive and tightened around her; it almost felt like a grip had wrapped around her body, not enough to threaten but to warn. "Meaning what?" he asked, voice almost chiding. "Air must be insisted on—otherwise, it will be forgotten."

"I understand that- "

"You clearly don't."

"- but how does that help Samir?" she demanded, feeling like they were having a repeated conversation. "This is no longer about you; it is about Samir. If she is to become a Master of Air, no longer how long it takes, she cannot feel the brunt of your insistence."

Aang glared at her. "I know. But for her to be an Airbender, she must reflect the understanding; she must be a real Airbender, not this damned imposter and fraudulent to the core."

"Air is not the same- "

"That's the point!" he exploded, voice lashing out like a lightning strike; his gray eyes teemed with memories. "I have to get it back! And Samir will have to become part of it!"

She felt him with her firebending, feeling his warmth; he rivaled an erupting volcano, the very Royal Fire Catacombs itself beneath the caldera.

He was furious.

Azula stared at him as a horrifying realization notified her of the truth. "You do know that Air will not come back, yes?"

Aang clearly did expect Air to come back—the Air that was, somehow and some way, even if he could not see it or understand it. However, he closed his eyes for several moments before they opened; he looked exhausted.

"What do you see when you look at me?" he asked quietly.

Azula's brows rose before they furrowed. "Meaning?"

Aang did not look at her, only at his reflection in the fountain. "Meaning what I mean. What do you see when you look at me?"

"I see Aang- "

"You see Air," he interrupted, bold. "You see the last body to have all the blood of Air in its veins and heart. You see the last Child of Air to ever live." He pointed at his reflection, at his face framed by the long hair that obscured his tattoo of mastery and fluttered like the water in the fountain rippled. "This face will never be seen again in the world; these features will be forgotten. These eyes, this nose, this jaw, these lips, these ears, this chin, these cheeks, this hair, and this tattoo of mastery—extinct. Everything that's mine—everything that I am right now in this life—will never pass on and will be lost."

Azula frowned. "But your children by the Mother of Air will- "

"The Mother of Air will be of a different race of a different lineage and culture," he said flatly, and it was eerily silent in the temple; there was no sound of the wind or air, no melody of vitality like she had heard previously. Everything felt dead and silent; it prickled at her flesh and pierced her spirit, invading her thoughts. The absence was dreadful after having experienced the joy since Samir's rebirth as an Airbender. Was that what Aang felt all the time? "My children will not be my children; they will also be her children. I hate that. My children should be all of me."

Azula stared up at him, eyes roaming his unyielding face. "But your children would only be half of you and, thus, half of Air."

And if he accepted her nomination, the other half of his children would be half of her and, thus, half of her lineage and legacy—which meant Sozin.

"Half-spawns," Aang clarified needlessly. "They will be bastards. My own children—bastards. They'll be abominations and worthless—just like Samir. I see my future because of Samir, but I always knew it was my future. It's coming for me, and there's nothing I can do to avoid it. None of my children will be real; they'll be pathetic. There will never be Children of Air again; there will only be Bastards of Air and Abominations of Air. With each generation that passes after me, the presence of Air will shrink and shrink and shrink until all of my descendants are like Samir—from Air but not of Air, incapable of airbending talent and understanding, unable to even use airbending because they're not real. Eventually, it will get so small that it's undetectable; it's unnoticeable; it's forgotten; it's extinct." He finally turned to her, gray eyes deep and reviling. "I know exactly that Air's not coming back, Azula. I've known it, deep down, every day since I woke up in this damned, evil time. You're an idiot for thinking otherwise."

"But Air will be revived," she pointed out, feeling a simmering desperation in her mind. "It has already begun with Samir."

"I don't want Air revived!" he snapped at her before looking away. "I want Air returned. But it never will be. And it's Vaatu, Agni, and Sozin's fault—and my fault."

"It is not your fault- "

"Why did Vaatu choose Air?" Aang whispered, voice drawn. "Why not Water? Why not Earth? Why not Fire?"

Azula exhaled slowly, knowing she would anger him but having no other answer. "Vaatu chose Air because you were born of Air in this life. If you were born of Water, Earth, or Fire, he would have mandated the destruction of one of the other races, to whichever one you were born."

Aang's smile chilled her spirit; it looked hauntingly like one of Father's smiles—cold and distant. "Yes, because it's me. I'm the source of it. I always have been, and I always will be. I destroyed Air- "

"Sozin destroyed- "

"I destroyed Air because it was his terror of me that motivated him to do it," he pointed out, bitter. "I provoked him."

"His idea of The Avatar provoked him," she reminded. "It was his memory of Roku."

"It was his memory of me because Roku is me."

"It was Sozin. It was also Vaatu- "

"But I provoked Vaatu."

Azula stared at him, aghast at his unthinkable perceptions! "In what possible way did you provoke Vaatu?"

"I put him in the Tree of Time."

She could discern only one reason why he was so adamant in his absurdity—Vaatu himself. "What did Vaatu want with you?" she demanded, finally having the courage to ask the question that had gnawed at her ever since the moment happened. "He took you somewhere in the Immortal Realm. Where? What did he say to you? Is that what he said to you? Did he fill your head with the idea that Air's slaughter was his vengeance against you for imprisoning him as Wan?"

His face closed off as he shook his head. "It was nothing."

Why did she have the suspicion—why did she know—that it was everything? "Tell me why I do not believe you."

Aang hesitated, face scrunching in what looked like agony before he relented, sagging. "He took me to the Tree."

Azula's eyes widened. "As in the Great Tree? The Tree of Time?"

"Yes."

"Why did not you throw him into the Tree?" she demanded in disbelief. "That was the opportunity! You keep talking about how you need to end this war before it gets worse, and that was the opportunity! What happened?"

He looked down at his hands. "He gave me the chance to have Air back."

Azula stared at him incomprehensibly. The words registered, but the innate doubtful scoff was too powerful; she should feel relief and joy that Aang could have Air back, but she only felt a twisting distrust. It was too good to be true.

"Explain," she demanded.

"He said he could return to me Air," Aang said hollowly.

She blinked and marveled; she felt proud of him. "But you said no."

He swallowed. "I destroyed Air again. Vaatu could have brought my race back to me, even if only in spirit, and I destroyed them again by not giving them that chance—which they deserve more than anyone else."

Azula was amazed at such a possibility. "How would he bring them back?"

Aang was quiet. "He didn't say," he whispered after a long pause, and she did not know whether to believe him or not. "But I said no. Why did I say no? It's everything I've ever wanted."

She looked away, finding the overwhelming, indescribable yearning, wistfulness, and longing on his face painful to behold. "Perhaps you knew it would not be the same."

"Because they already died and remember their deaths," he said, dazed; he looked at his reflection, but she knew he did not see his reflection. Rather, he saw memories and images. "They would awaken in a world that was impossible to them; they would be like me. I couldn't have that."

"Do you regret your choice?" Her voice did not sound as strong as it usually did, and she resented it. "I imagine there is lots to regret."

"Talking with you right now, I don't regret it, but every time I've trained Samir since we got back, I do. I guess that means yes."

Azula nodded, feeling a shrill chill descend her spine. For the first time, she realized the true depths of her impulsive nomination for Mother of Air; she would be competing with his memory of Air for all her life, and all the children she bore him, all of whom would have half their identity and nature in her, would have to compete with his memory of Air for all their lives. It was exactly like Father! She always had to compete with Father's perception of a perfect Firebender and perfect daughter—and also with his perfect memory of Mother before she assassinated Grandfather, she suspected.

She could not endure that again, and she refused to put her children through such a thing, for she knew how horrific it was. She had vowed to help Aang, and she would with the battle against Vaatu and mastering his chakras, but if he accepted her nomination as Mother of Air, it meant that she would live under that expectation and pressure, which was so terribly similar to Father's demands.

Should she renounce her nomination for Mother of Air?

She could not arrive at an answer.

"All my race returned," Aang murmured with fervor. "What was I thinking? Even though it wouldn't be the same, it would be enough. The price is worth it; any price is worth it."

"Sometimes reactions are purer than actions," she advised swiftly, almost panicking. Who knew what Vaatu's 'price' would be for something so monumental? "You did not have time to think. Thinking can be a dangerous, rigid thing, Aang."

Aang turned to her, face carved in sadness. "Not as dangerous and rigid as a world without Air. They would be here somehow, and that's better than this damned absence; it's better than nothing."

By the look on his face, she knew he had doubts, which he did not want to have. He wished that he could have no doubts and accept Vaatu's offer, but those doubts persisted. She knew the only way to save him from succumbing to Vaatu's enticing proposition was to emphasize those doubts. She knew where those doubts lied based on their many conversations.

"But they would not be pure, would they?" Azula asked, holding his shadowed gaze. "You said they would remember their deaths, which means they would have tasted Death, enforcing on them permanent changes, yes? They would not be the Air you remember—the Air that was. Their purity would be compromised- "

His eyes snapped shut, and the agony blossomed across his face. "I know. Why can't they come back to me? Why? Why? Why?"

Azula looked down in shame. "I am not intelligent enough to answer that."

Silence.

"You asked me what happened with Vaatu and me," he said slowly, voice miserable. "What happened with you and your father?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "He still thinks I am loyal to him and devoted to his pursuits; he thinks I am his 'pivotal ingress' to you."

"Has he already started earthbending?"

Azula shook her head. "He did not say, and I did not think to ask. I had other subjects on my mind."

Aang stared at her, eyes becoming less dark but still subdued. "Do you think he suspects you might not be loyal to him?"

She hesitated for a moment, recalling Father's judgment that she was fond of Aang. "Anything is possible with him, but I do not think so. Not yet, at the least. I inquired about his location, and I have no reason to doubt the information he gave."

Immediately, Aang straightened, and the vigor and eagerness consumed his face, energizing his spirit; it was an unbelievable change. "What? Where? Where is he?"

Azula frowned. "We must have a plan. If you encounter Vaatu again, you- "

"If I encounter Vaatu again, I'll be ready," he interrupted. "I wasn't prepared last time because I wasn't sure what I'd be facing. Now I know. I have that understanding now."

"But your mastered chakras- "

"Aren't necessary."

She crossed her arms against her breasts, annoyed. "I believe you disregard the risk you face in encountering Vaatu again without your chakras mastered."

"I'll be fine- "

"What if he tempts you with that offer to return to you Air? Will you have the strength and reason to deny it again?"

Silence.

Aang sagged in defeat. "I don't know. What do you suggest?"

Finally! Eager to take advantage of the offered opening, particularly with the clear receptiveness he currently possessed, she nodded. "We have two options, but neither are satisfactory. We must choose the lesser of the evils."

He snorted in exhaustion. "I think I have enough experience with that."

"We need to stay here at the temple so you can master your chakras in a place that is of solace and comfort to you," Azula explained. "However, we also need to depart and reunite with Zuko and the others to conceive a plan to strike at Vaatu; we also need to divulge to them what the Face Stealer shared with us. Unfortunately, I do not believe either option is viable, not now, not yet."

Aang's head tilted. "What do you mean? I agree those are reasonable options."

Azula elected for bluntness. "Our foremost aim is for you to master your chakras, yes? Do you agree that is the most decisive way to end this new war before it arouses things horrible to conceive?"

"Yes," he muttered, begrudging, but she was relieved he was honest enough and insightful enough to understand the truth. "But what's the problem?"

"The problem is you," she said simply, though she added quickly: "I fear that your frustration with Samir's lack of progress and skill will hinder your ability to master your chakras, particularly since the reminder that the new Air is so lackluster compared to the Air you yearn for, which is only augmented by you being here at one of the Air Temples. Furthermore, I am uncertain Toph and Pathik's presences will be beneficial to you."

Aang, to her relief, only blinked and nodded, accepting her judgment. "What's wrong with meeting Zuko- "

"It is not only Zuko with whom we would meet," she stressed. "We will reunite with the Water Tribes peasants, who would diminish any small progress you make until there will only be deterioration. Unfortunately, I perceive no feasible way in which you can master your chakras right now."

Aang stared at her in a way she could not decipher. "If we returned to Ember Island for our vacation, just the two of us, maybe I could."

Returning to Ember Island was an enticing possibility—she truly loved Ember Island, which she never thought she would say as a child or juvenile. And she knew that her new fondness for Ember Island had to do with the memories she had created with her 'bodyguard.'

"That will be the last resort," she decided.

He grinned. "At an actual resort."

"Those are our options," Azula concluded, rolling her eyes, but she felt more affection than annoyance.

"I don't know," he said, trailing off, the struggle clear on his face.

"Those are our options," she repeated with patience. "I have thought about it extensively."

Aang grimaced. "I don't like those options."

"Nor do I, but I conceive no other option that is adequate."

He was silent for several long moments. "There's a third option," he said slowly, "and I like the third option."

Azula raised a brow. "Perhaps I would like it as well if I knew what it was."

He glanced at her, gray eyes vigorous. "Attack now."

She tensed. "No, that is- "

"We need to attack now."

Normally, she would agree with his tactical strategy, but she felt wary. "That is not prudent."

"It's perfect."

Azula gazed at him in assessment for several moments; his determination was impressive and belief-inducing, but he looked possessive rather than reasonable, which worried her. "You are an Air Nomad," she reminded, spacing her words. "You despise combat- "

Something resentful crossed his face before it was gone. "I'm not the Boy anymore."

"Perhaps you should be- "

"You never knew the Boy," he accused. "The Boy is why all of this is happening; he's why everything bad has ever happened. A new solution is needed."

She marveled in dreadful wonder at his line of thinking, which she knew he believed with the force of the conviction of his eternal, primordial spirit. "And you, you above all, think that assault is the solution?"

Aang frowned, crossing his arms. "I thought you'd agree with me."

"I would if it were any other enemy," she stressed. "This is Vaatu. We barely survived against him and my father- "

"That was in the Immortal Realm," he pointed out, triumphant. "This time, we'll be here in the Mortal Realm, and we'll have our bending; I'll have my bending."

Azula blinked, realizing he had an excellent point; it made her consider the idea in a whole new light. "And Agni and Devi?"

Something bitter crossed his face. "I'll deal with Agni and Devi."

"How?" Azula demanded, urgent. "They are two of the Elementals. Vaatu already has half of- "

"I can deal with them," Aang repeated, voice adamant. "I will deal with them. Vaatu's power won't get any bigger."

She crossed her arms. "Can Aang defeat Agni and Devi, or can only The Avatar?"

His jaw clenched before he looked away. "Aang will have a difficult time defeating Agni and Devi, but he can defeat them."

"And The Avatar?"

"You know the answer to that."

She did—one Elemental in Devi would be reformed of her allegiance to Vaatu while another Elemental in Agni would be destroyed for his help in heralding the Great War and Air's murder.

"It is a risk," Azula pointed out after several moments of consideration.

"It's a risk to let them gather more allies and power."

Azula sighed. "Father said he has obtained an army of peasants- "

Aang waved a hand, and she noticed that it was an action more reminiscent of her than him. "That's not going to be a problem."

She stared at him in wonder. "An army is not going to be a problem?"

He glanced at her with that haunting weight in his eyes. "You know it's not."

"Ba Sing Se," Azula murmured in understanding. "You can destroy all of them."

"I don't want to," he said through gritted teeth. "I never want to go into The Avatar State again, but I know I will."

"You cannot deny your nature," she agreed. "But regardless, you will not go into The Avatar State there. I know you. There will be an army, and part of that army will consist of some Dai Li who escaped Ba Sing Se- "

"Toph can handle them. You and I can face all the others."

She hesitated, doubtful over how simple he made it sound. "You hold much faith in me."

"You've earned it," he assured, and she refrained from pointing out that he had no faith in her as the Mother of Air—but did she even want that faith any longer? She was unsure. "We can stop them. We can win this war."

"But what about my father, Vaatu, Agni, and Devi?" she demanded. "We cannot face all of them- "

"I'll face them," Aang interrupted. "You and Toph will face the army- "

Azula wanted to shake him as his absurdity expanded—it was maddening! "That is absurd! Toph and I cannot- "

"You mastered your chakras," he reminded. "Your firebending is like how it was under Sozin's Comet. You could defeat anyone now, including this army of 'peasants.'"

She paused in understanding. "It is possible," she admitted, though she still did not like the risk. "However, it is not probable."

Aang nodded. "I know it's risky- "

"That does not adequately describe the powerful danger," Azula said flatly.

"But it's possible. It can work."

Azula's jaw clenched before she nodded. "Yes."

He approached her. "Where did your father say his camp is at?"

"The Hu Xin Province," she notified after several moments. The impulse to lie had occurred to her to prevent the risky plan from happening, but she could not lie to him, not now. "That is what he disclosed to me. It is where Grandfather had one of his most pivotal victories."

Aang smiled before it faded; he looked serious as he gazed at her. "I know you disagree with this decision, but I'm making the decision based on what I know our capabilities are. Maybe this decision is wrong, but it seems correct now."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why so urgent? Why attack now?"

"Vaatu has Devi now," he said, looking devastated by that fact. She did not know if it was because Vaatu had obtained Devi, or if it was because of Devi's judgment against Aang in the Immortal Realm—the fact she would rather ally with Vaatu than him. "I can't let him corrupt the others."

"He does not know any of their locations- "

"And I'm ensuring he never knows by attacking him now."

Azula was quiet for several moments, ruminating on his adamance. "The Ocean the Moon are in the North, yes?"

"Yes."

"And Indra?"

Devastation crossed his face. "I don't know where she is. She was in Ba Sing Se to save Samir, but that's it. I've never sensed her at all."

She quickly led him away from that subject. "Are you certain that my father or Vaatu does not know where the Ocean and Moon are?"

Aang opened his mouth before he hesitated. "Your father might know; it's possible. I don't know if you ever met him, but there was an Admiral named Zhao who- "

Azula tensed at Zhao's name. "I knew him; I despised him. The news of his death delighted me for months. It still delights me. He was nothing more than a second son who dreamed of being someone greater than his superiors."

He only nodded, apparently not surprised. She really was slipping. "Zhao somehow found out about the Ocean and the Moon—I suspect Wan Shi Tong's library because that's the only thing I can think of, and Roku agrees with me—and killed the Moon Spirit- "

"Which is how and why the Northern Princess sacrificed her life to save the Moon Spirit," she finished, remembering the story. She had never imagined that Zhao—how she hated that brute!—was responsible.

Aang looked anxious. "Do you think Zhao told your father where the Ocean and Moon Spirits are before he died?"

Azula shook her head. "I would wager all of the coffers in the Fire Nation that Zhao told no one about what he knew and anything else he had discovered. He was selfish beyond egotism." The disgust, rage, and dread swept through her. "His aim was to marry into Sozin's line, tying himself to perennial greatness."

Heat exploded from Aang's body, and his gray eyes boiled. "You mean?" he asked, unable to finish the thought that enraged him as much as it still enraged her. However, she felt pleased by the great sudden heat of his body; the fact that his anger was great enough to trigger his firebending showcased his affection for her, whether intentional or not.

But did she still want that affection, which would make her Mother of Air? She still was unsure!

"There was extensive correspondence between Zhao and Father about the possibility of a marriage." Azula's fingers curled into quivering fists, which she was unable to quell or minimize, feeling the memories of that horror surface. "It was finalized days before Zhao set sail to invade the North. All that remained was the agreement on my dowry, which Zhao wanted to increase by augmenting his prestige with victory over the North. Father ordered that I marry that brute on my sixteenth birthday, and I could only agree and follow his command." She exhaled sapphire flames from her mouth as her gaze locked onto Aang's. "Never before or since have I celebrated someone's death as much as I did Zhao's when I learned the news. I was inconsolable with joy and relief. I even prayed in thanks to The Avatar that day when I heard that you killed him. At that moment, you were not my enemy; you were my liberator. And for a single day, I could think of you as such. Thank you."

Aang looked uncomfortable. "That wasn't me. I had merged temporarily with La- "

"But you were in control, yes?"

"The Avatar was."

She inclined her head and adjusted her hands in a proper bow. "Thank you, Avatar. You spared me from him."

Aang did nothing for several seconds before he mimicked her bow perfectly. "I never liked him, even when I was so young. As a boy, I glimpsed the depraved ambition beneath the surface. I was always wary of him, certainly far more than I ever was of you or Zuko."

"I can assure you that he and Father got along fabulously."

"I can imagine."

Azula shook her head, trying to banish all thoughts of Zhao from her mind. "Enough of that brute. What about Indra? You said you do not know where she is, but can you contact her- "

"No. I can't sense her," he stressed, frustrated—not at her, but the situation. "I don't know why she didn't come to me in Ba Sing Se."

"I have an idea," she murmured idly.

Aang had the same idea as he sighed. "But she was in Ba Sing Se before I snapped. She could have come to me before. I don't know why she didn't; I don't know why I didn't sense her to begin with."

"Does it have to do with Air's loss?" Azula asked in consideration. "She must be weak."

"The Attack weakened her severely…" he muttered, trailing off in thought. "But I should still sense her. I should feel her. But there's nothing. It's like she doesn't exist."

"Would Pathik have any idea- "

"No."

"It never hurts to ask," she advised.

Aang's face twisted. "Yes, it does. You know it does."

Azula smirked. "Is The Avatar asking for my help?"

"Yes."

"Then my help you shall have."

A small smile crossed his lips. "Thank you, Azula."

XxXxXxXxXxX

That's everything! My apologies for the massive length. However, I liked the pacing of this one. Leave a review and tell me positive and/or negatives with the chapter!

**Aang struggles teaching Samir airbending! I find it very compelling that Aang would be a terrible bending instructor for someone like Samir. For a genius of Aang's caliber—above everyone in the world, literally—to train someone as average—perhaps less than mediocre—as Samir would be an exceedingly painful experience because Aang's not ready for it at all, and this doesn't even include Aang's struggles with Air's murder, which Samir symbolizes because all that's left of Air is mediocre and pathetic compared to what is used to be, according to Aang. Samir can have all the enthusiasm in the world—and does—but Aang doesn't have the patience because everything bending-related for him has been easy-peasy in comparison to others, including earthbending.

I see people talk about Aang's earthbending struggle often like it was significant, but it actually wasn't. Honestly, that was depicted as a single day of struggle. It wasn't like it was half a season he struggled with earthbending, which would have been significant for someone of Aang's caliber. However, it took him a single day to grasp it, understand it, and harness it, which is fundamentally genius and prodigious—which Samir will never be. And Aang struggles to accept Samir's mediocrity because he wants Air to be exceptional like himself—like the Air that was in his memories. It's entirely foreign to him; really, it's impossible and unthinkable for him. He's never had to struggle with bending like others do. Airbending was instinctive for him; waterbending was instinctive for him; firebending was instinctive for him as shown when Jeong Jeong was 'teaching' him; and earthbending was instinctive once he obtained understanding, which took a single day.

I certainly think that Azula would have a much clearer understanding of training Samir, as in the actual training and relationship between Master and Student. Aang has always been the best, deep down, which he knows. There's never been anyone actively better than him at bending—because he's The Avatar. However, Azula always had someone who was better than her at firebending. There was her grandfather, father, uncle, and mother—all powerful and renowned Firebenders who she tried to compare herself to but would never actually defeat any of them in real combat. Not to mention, Aang's need for perfection from Samir is frighteningly similar to what Ozai demanded of her, so Azula understands the situation much better than Aang. Unlike Aang, Azula struggled for years to master lightning and worked to make herself like her father as best she could and live up to the memory of her mother, living up to the legacy of the blood in her veins. She failed on all accounts, emphasized by her mind breaking at the end of the Great War, which she understands. She understands the impact of a father's pressure on a child, specifically a young girl who looks up to him, and Samir certainly looks up to Aang, even if she sometimes shouldn't.

**The Order of the White Lotus has been slaughtered down to, as they understand, three members: Pakku, Bumi, and Iroh. The Order is now being re-stocked with people who would be loyal to the Avatar. In Canon, it was never really discussed how the Order came to exist, so I created a little snippet that, I hope, would sound plausible.

Also, Zuko and Katara talk about a lot, incorporating a lot of subjects. Katara challenges him on why he saved her life from Azula during the Agni Kai because, again, it doesn't make sense upon analysis unless there is, in fact, a romantic angle on it. They also talk about Hama, motherhood, patricide, bloodbending, and monstrosity.

If any of you are uncomfortable with Zuko sleeping with concubines, it makes too much sense for that to be his vice. It was commonplace, based on the era the show is set in, for princes and kings to have multiple mistresses to please them. I'm pretty sure that we can all agree that Ozai would have done all of that to the highest degree, probably siring children that he forced the women to terminate so as to not create challengers for the Dragon's Throne. Zuko has thus followed in his father's footsteps, somewhat. Keep in mind that before he found his mother, he was also dreadfully lonely. All who he had was Azula, who was locked away, Aang, who couldn't stay in the Fire Nation because he was The Avatar, and his uncle, who lived in Ba Sing Se. It makes sense that after the Great War, Zuko would seek out a way to abate his loneliness, and if women offered themselves to him, it was the perfect way to do that. Furthermore, it's the only vice that doesn't obstruct his ability to be Fire Lord. Specifically, he can't get drunk as he needs to be clear-headed at all times, especially with assassins lurking around.

**Bumi and his grandson, Bor, appear as they begin rebuilding Ba Sing Se! Because Bumi, out of anyone alive besides Pathik, is the only one who survived the entire Great War, there's an incredible story to tell for him. But there's a lot of darkness in his story; it's not all good; he wasn't a hero or a villain because, to me, there are no heroes or villains in war, including the Great War—there are only players, especially at the top. Bumi was a huge player, the biggest player not named Aang, Sozin, and Azulon, but there's a lot of terrible things the big players do and commit. Bumi committed atrocities; he had to. There's a reason he was hailed as the Scourge of Fire and obtained such a fearsome reputation; there's a reason why he was called the Mad King. So, yes, Bumi's hands are blood-soaked—and with the blood of his predecessor king and his entire family to seize Omashu's throne to finally make a difference in the Great War. He committed many crimes. It's an incredibly tragic and dark turn of events, but it makes so much sense with the context of the Great War and his impotence in dealing with Air's murder and Aang's assumed murder, Earth's continual losses against Fire, and The Avatar's absence. He was a man who had such a willpower to defeat Fire and murder Sozin that he assassinated his king and seized the throne so he could give victories to Earth, providing hope for the people on the continent. That was his justification, and he believed in it for a long time, but as the decades passed and nothing came of his fateful choice, he realized it may have been the wrong choice. The victories he really wanted always eluded him, and personal tragedies continuously afflicted him, such as his children's deaths, his lovers' deaths, his maiming, and his last daughter committing suicide after bearing her rapist's son—Bor. Bumi has to live with the consequences of his fateful decision, including raising his grandson who was a product of rape against his daughter. It's terribly tragic, but to me, it makes too much sense.

**Aang and Toph finally try to clear the air, and while they don't really get anywhere, it was a good start as both said things that needed to be said.

**Azula and Aang discuss strategy, and Azula realizes the depths of her commitment as Mother of Air, if she becomes Mother of Air. For the first time, she has doubts about it—about Aang himself in his capability for Air and how he would treat her.

Well, that's all for this one. If you want, leave a review and tell me what you thought of the chapter. I'd really appreciate!

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