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!

22. Acceptance

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Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender

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The world shuddered around him as his eyes fluttered open. The darkness dissipated, shrieking in his mind in defiance until it faded, leaving a void—a penetrating loss that echoed with a haunting whimper.

It matched the rest of him.

As Aang's vision cleared, he saw nothing—rather, he felt. There was something missing—something he had relied on for so many years. The buzz that accompanied him everywhere was gone, deprived of its powerful essence. It was inside him, but it was no longer present—as a constant, familiar, comforting presence. His hatred had retired to slumber, never to be what it once was. He would always have his hatred, for it was impossible not to feel hatred, but never would his hatred have him again. His hatred would never be his friend, confidante, or wife again; his hatred would only be his hatred, nothing more and nothing less.

There was a sense of mourning that swept through him at the realization—he was different, and that which he loved so powerfully was no longer with him as it used to be. It felt like part of him was missing, something intimate and trusting, something that gave him comfort, reasoning, reprieve, and focus. But it had never made him feel free, like he desperately wanted it to. He had spent years trying to twist Air's renowned wisdom, distorting interpretations to fit the criteria—the literal justification—he needed, to make himself feel just and pure by holding onto his hatred, warping all sense until it became nonsense. He did everything possible, looking for all excuses and harnessing them, to maintain his hatred, to make something wrong seem right. He had always tried but failed, deep down, which always infuriated him, but it was something he refused to stop, something he refused to change. For him, it was the only thing that was working, even if he knew it could never last, but he embraced it as much as he could, and it kept him alive. But he no longer needed it, which Gyatso showed him.

He was free now.

However, he never expected to feel sadness—a deep exhaustion that no joy or awe could pierce as his soul felt weary. But he knew that he would awaken from his exhaustion eventually—it was a when, not if.

Aang blinked slowly to register the dim light, remembering how Gyatso's eyes dimmed forever after Sozin's attack, but instead of falling into a seething rage that would destroy the world, he laid there, thinking about it. He recalled the expressions passing over Gyatso's beautiful face in his final moments before he died, the serene acceptance and willingness, the sheer readiness, radiating off him like the flames everywhere. Gyatso stopped fighting, willing to stop, for he accepted it; he accepted everything that happened around him to the Southern Temple, knowing that the same atrocities were happening at the other temples. He did not die with hate in his heart or violence; he died with acceptance, peace, and gladness, looking forth to the future he vowed would come.

It was the future that Aang would produce, bright with wonderful children born from and of Air—a new lineage.

A new race.

He knew he would never compare to Gyatso, and though he never knew Gyatso in his youth, he knew that Gyatso never possessed the hatred that he did nor the capacity for wrath and violence. He would never have the patience, kindness, and wisdom that Gyatso carried, nor the peace for the world—at least, not for a while. He had mastered his chakras, but he would not achieve anything more, for Gyatso achieved all in the world, for a long time.

For the first time, he understood what it meant to be Gyatso and, more so, like him.

It was his vow to become more like Gyatso.

As his body quivered in painful hunger, vision swirling, as he laid in the furs, Aang finally looked at the weight resting against his arm, knowing what—who—he would see.

Azula's face was peaceful in slumber, tilted down, leaving only the top of her head and face visible to him, but he stared, unable to do anything else; he soaked her in, absorbing her, memorizing her, and remembering her.

She was his wife—his Mother of Air.

He cataloged her appearance, marveling at the small things that he had forgotten. He had told Gyatso many things about her, but he realized that there were so many things that he had not told him, having forgotten them in his singular pursuit and focus. Wonder brimmed inside him as he beheld her, feeling her rest against his body, trusting him enough to allow herself to rest and be vulnerable, despite all the resentment he had obviously, brazenly directed at her for her blood. But if her blood made her appearance and personality, which he loved, how could her blood be terrible? How could her blood be evil if it gave rise to a beauty that dazzled him, leaving him breathless, knocking him over with a look? How could her blood be evil if it produced her, whom he loved?

It was ironic—it might be more likely that his blood was more evil than hers based on everything he heard about his race from Gyatso. His parents—Tenzin and Jinora were their names—were wise and enlightened and murdered for it, but what about his grandparents? What about anyone else? Gyatso told him about the black-haired Air Nomads, like himself, who were so renowned that they were the ones who discovered true flight, but they were also, apparently, the ones who committed atrocities by following a charismatic, determined leader named Zaheer.

There were no absolutes, were there? For so long, he had attributed a purity to Air that never was—or if it was, born of murder and systematic infanticide. But he learned the devastating truth that his race was more impure than pure; there was nothing pure about them; they weren't sinless like he had thought. They weren't victims of Sozin but themselves due to their cruel disregard and arrogant apathy, which they targeted at the other races, cultivating the horrifying reputation that he encountered, attested to by many whom he attacked in rage and incomprehension.

His blood was not perfect; his lineage was not perfect—not like he thought. Air was not special or renowned; they were not superior or better than the other races—not like he believed. Air was a maddening mixture of good and bad just like the other races—not like he wanted.

Everything was much more complicated—but, in a lot of ways, simpler, too.

The intense and overwhelming pressure to sire a new race remained, but it no longer paralyzed him; it no longer made him terrified of not living up to the expectations, of being forced to hate his children for their numerous faults, flaws, and imperfections—the blemishes manifested by their hybridized blood.

He could think of things in a new way without feeling shame, guilt, or hatred; he could see things as they were and as they would be.

Finally looking at Samir, he knew it was true. Samir was stretched out wildly, part of her body pointing one way and the other part the other way, limbs sprayed and bent awkwardly but peacefully, and her face was somehow jammed under Azula's arm. But Aang saw Air's colors draped across her, making him think of all the children he saw at the Southern Temple wearing the same. Looking back, he finally saw how rigid the other boys were even by the ways they carried themselves, by the words used, by the strict rituals and routines. He couldn't see anything unique about any of the boys he grew up with, even when he saw them briefly at the Southern temple when he went back; they all acted the same and looked the same, a distended mass of forgetfulness.

Where was the freedom?

Air taught that freedom must be nourished and kept alive all throughout your life, for there were always forces that sought to rob it from you, but it made him feel dead inside when he realized that Air had done nothing to cultivate and nourish the innate freedom in each of the boys he grew up with; rather, horrifyingly, Air had snuffed it out, suffocating them, robbing the breaths from their starved lungs. While it was not Air but the High Council, it was painfully obvious—it was a wonder he never saw it before!

They had become stagnant, arrogant, callous, and cruel in their beliefs, unwilling to change or remember what it truly meant to be a Child of Air; they murdered babies who didn't meet their apathetic inspections in pursuit of purity, losing their way, misshapen by the High Council's perverted will. He had for so long been frantic about casting Air into degeneracy by siring half-spawns, but truly, Air had already cast themselves into degeneracy due to the High Council's degeneracy.

It was madness!

The clarity he always yearned for finally arrived, and he saw clearly but painfully. The High Council, indeed, had led Air to their doom with many generations' worth of wrong, arrogant decisions. Air taught that you needed to see Life by roaming the world as nomads, but Gyatso was right! How many Air Nomads lived up to their titles during the last generations? How many roamed the world and spread friendship, the root of all love, as Air's wisdom taught? How many looked to Life for answers rather than the High Council? Had any Air Nomads he knew in his life besides Gyatso and the High Council left the temples?

The boys he was raised with in the Southern Temple never had a chance, deprived of freedom, cast into subservient, controlled roles in which deviation meant punishment. Had any of the boys ever experienced freedom?

Had he himself ever experienced freedom?

Yes, but it was not by living under the High Council's tyranny; the first time he felt free—actually free when looking back honestly and intelligently—in his life was during his vacation on Ember Island with Azula. And now he felt free with returning from that time, understanding the truth finally.

How had things become so backward that an heir of Sozin recognized and embraced freedom while Air's High Council, the most esteemed Elders in the world, could not, replacing it with control and oppression?

A half-spawn child understood freedom, unlike Air's 'pure' Elders, for Samir had an inherent freedom, visible in the things she did and the way she spoke. She wasn't an imposter or a fraud; she was actually a real Airbender. She took delight in the small things and laughed often, enjoying Life and living in it, yearning for fun, games, and amusement, even when she was sad. Even though Samir had next to nothing of Air in her except for her vibrant gray eyes, looking like a half-spawn of Fire and Earth, Air lived on in her so clearly; she was an Airbender and loved it, wearing Air's colors with pride and joy.

She was an Airbender—she was a real one, a nomad who was living her title by somehow being away from the Eastern Temple at the repurposed camp.

Azula must have gathered her while he was away.

Aang stared at Samir's slumber face, sprayed by her wild hair, amazed by the awkward angle in which she slept peacefully, and felt gladness; he was happy to know her. Never again would he be ashamed of her; never again would he resent her; never again would he hate her.

She was an Air Nomad, the first in many more generations than he thought; she was the first Air Nomad who would live by Air's true teachings, besides Gyatso and his parents, in a thousand years, likely—if not longer.

He gently reached across Azula's body with a trembling hand—he was so weak!—to brush Samir's hair away from her face. When his balance became threatened halfway through his movement, he guided several gentle gusts, which cleared sight of her innocent, wonderful face. Something choked seized hold him as he watched her breathe in rest, unaware of his presence; he had treated her poorly, not like a friend would.

He was exactly like the High Council! His only relief was that he was never absurd enough to throw Samir off the temple's ledge and watch her crash to the ground, sustaining Air's 'purity.'

Aang tore his eyes away from Samir and looked back at Azula's face, going back and forth several times, and realized that it was never the two of them who were unworthy for the positions seemingly destined for them, like he thought they were, for which he had hated them.

It had always been him who was unworthy—but never again!

As he continued staring at them, breathing them in, he admired how they seemed to fit together; it was a strange display with Samir's awkward resting position, for it almost appeared like she was trying to overtake Azula's position, but it somehow worked.

It seemed right.

Aang closed his eyes for several moments, imprinting it in his mind, before he swallowed and forced himself to his feet; he almost crashed immediately but caught himself. He caught sight of his garb and managed to put his pants on before foregoing the rest; he was not coordinated or energized enough.

He stumbled out of the tent, footsteps not as light and steady as he was used to.

The fresh air breezed over his face and through his hair and beard, and he paused at its impact for several moments. He had always thought the air tasted wrong and disgusting, feeling like a stain on the world, since he learned of his race's murder, but upon encountering it again, he realized that there was nothing wrong with the air; it was only something he attributed to it.

He had done a lot of that, it seemed.

Aang noticed Appa—Appa!—lying on his back, limbs extended in what seemed like a painful stretch and staggered over with a surge of rapid movements, falling to his knees several times and picking himself up again to continue. When he reached Appa, he brushed his hands over his head, upside down, to which Appa opened his eyes and let out a low moan of delight.

"It's me," he whispered in confirmation as Appa rolled over and began licking his face. "I'm back; I'm home."

Appa nuzzled against him, releasing a low croon, eyes vigorous with joy.

It caused tears in his own eyes, reminding him of something. "I'm so sorry," he gasped, drained. "I should have brought you with me. I didn't give you the chance to see them again. I'm sorry, Appa."

Another tongue to his face was the response.

He didn't bother wiping away all the extensive saliva as he continued petting Appa's giant arrow, fingers brushing through thick fur. "I saw them all again. I saw Gyatso again. It was the greatest thing I ever saw, and it taught me so much. It made me feel love again; it made me see the truth. I wish you were there with me. I'm free now. We can be free."

Momo chirped at him from Appa's horn, and he shuddered.

"You, too," Aang breathed. "I promise to tell both of you all about it." He shook his head, feeling Appa's saliva slither over his face, hair, and beard and cringed at his odor. "I'm surprised you even recognized me with how bad I smell. I need to bathe."

As he approached the lake, Appa and Momo followed dutifully and eagerly, for which he was grateful. He didn't want to be alone, but he also didn't want any of the others to find or see him, not yet.

He remembered how Gyatso encouraged him to bathe before he left the Southern Temple, which he did, culminating in a revival—a literal rebirth as he arose out of the water. But after he bathed, the Attack still happened, and it clung to him; its presence seeped in his flesh, reminding him. He did not regret his decision, not anymore, but he knew if he did not cleanse himself, he could fall into his previous pattern.

It was not to be—never again.

Aang pulled his pants off, nude, before he entered the lake, letting the water envelop him. He began to wash vigorously but gently, soaking every crevice of flesh before sweeping his hands over, pulling the stench away. It was rejuvenating and comforting, and it made him remember Gyatso, making him feel closer. He soaked his hair and beard over and over again, cleansing it of its matted grime, sweat, and blood, rubbing his fingers through both many times, scrubbing. He took his time, dedicating himself to the task, letting his body actually start to heal from its extensive and exhaustive ordeal—and his spirit.

It was Air's true revival.

When Aang exited the lake, soaked and dripping, he blinked in surprise to see Zuko standing next to Appa.

Silence.

He inclined his head while Zuko did nothing but watch him, eyes roaming his body, pausing at the key points where he knew he was much too thin to be healthy. He pulled himself into his pants, trying to think of what to say, but he shrugged after several moments, giving up.

"It's been a while," he greeted.

Zuko stared at him without expression before handing him a loaf of bread, surprising him. "I imagine you're hungry."

"Starving," he corrected and accepted the bread, taking a small bite to not overdo it; it was delicious and exactly what he needed. "Where did you get it?"

"Sokka and Suki went into the nearest town and bought it when you came back," Zuko said flatly. "We all knew you wouldn't eat anything left that's still stockpiled in the camp."

Aang blinked. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Five days."

"Of course," he muttered, annoyed but relieved.

At least it wasn't two months like after Ba Sing Se.

Zuko's jaw clenched. "I'm going to ask you this once—where were you?"

Aang chewed on another piece of bread and analyzed how to answer. He doubted the truth was believable, but he knew he needed to provide some type of answer. "I thought I could choose my fate," he answered after several moments. "But I can't. I see that now. I learned a lot while I was away."

"Did you learn loyalty?" Zuko asked, voice a simmering hiss; there was a dark anger on his face.

Considering how loyal he was to Air, he reckoned that Zuko alluded to something else, and by the look on his face, he knew what—or who. "She has my loyalty."

Zuko scoffed, disgusted. "I don't believe a word of it. You ran, which hurt her deeply. You hurt her by leaving like you did."

Aang's face shadowed. "I know."

"You don't get it, Aang," Zuko snapped, voice displeased, bordering furious. "Everyone has always left her. Uncle left her; Lu Ten left her; Mom left her; Grandfather left her; I left her; and Father left her by disowning her and trying to kill her. You were all she had left, someone she trusted implicitly. But the moment after you're married—yes, I fucking know about that—you run off and disappear. First, you go to the Spirit World, and your body is here, but then your body vanishes. We thought The Avatar died! We thought you were killed and reborn again, and it was only my mom who reassured us—who reassured Azula—that you weren't dead because her mother told her how it was when Roku died, and it was different. You could feel it in the air, and it was unmistakable. And then you're gone for two months! You left her just everyone in her life ever has. She never thought you would leave her, but you did."

"That was short-sighted of her," he said softly as he swallowed another bite of bread.

Zuko reached out and gripped him by the shoulders, shaking him, and he let him do it, understanding. "What the fuck happened to you? We were worried! She was worried; she was frantic."

Aang closed his eyes. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture or debate, believe me. I've had enough of those."

"You need to give us some answers."

"I don't know how to give them, to say what I experienced."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "You left because you regretted it, didn't you? You hate your marriage—I know you do."

Aang sighed. "Yes and no."

"Meaning?"

"I never regretted the fact it happened, only when it happened," he confessed. "I thought I would have at least another year before we would be married, so I would have a year to come to terms with it all."

"The fact you choose her to be the Mother of Air, a woman of Sozin's line."

"Yes. But after she died, I was so overwhelmed," he recalled, voice soft. "I panicked. And I was overjoyed that I managed to bring her back—because I wasn't sure I could. But then I did, and I was so happy. Nothing else mattered. She was here again, and I loved her. And for that moment, it was enough. We married. But then after, I realized what I did, and I felt guilty; I felt- "

"Ashamed."

Aang glanced at him before averting his eyes. "Yes. I went to find peace. That's where I went, Zuko—I swear."

Zuko was quiet for a long time, clearly assessing him with intelligent eyes. "Did you find it?"

"Yes," Aang confirmed in a whisper, a fierce, unmistakable fondness swelling inside him. "Only one person could give me my peace; only he could make me see things clearly."

"Based on what I know about you and what you've alluded to in the past, I'm guessing that you went into the Gardens of the Dead and spoke with your race."

Aang smiled slightly. "Something like that."

A rough sigh escaped, sounding like a brief eruption. "I'm glad you found peace," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "It hasn't been easy with you gone. You found peace, sure, but that didn't give Azula peace. You slept with her; you married her in Air's eyes, but then you ran off- "

He glanced at him, unimpressed, trying not to be annoyed; it was an effort, which he cultivated by tearing off a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. "Your argument would be better if you didn't sleep with your concubines so often."

Zuko winced. "I know, but I haven't used the concubines in a while."

"How long is a while?" he asked, curious.

"Nine months—close to ten now."

Aang was quiet for several moments, thinking about how Zuko could suddenly stop his 'habit.' There was only one explanation that offered both the motivation and peace to do so. "Katara?"

Zuko tensed before nodding. "Yes."

"You love her," he observed, watching him.

"I think I kind of always have," Zuko admitted, voice soft.

He smiled slightly. "I know."

Zuko rubbed his face hard in displeasure, disgruntled. "That obvious?"

"Only to me," Aang assured, turning to the lake, watching the water shimmer; he finally sat down. "I've lived before and loved before, each time differently, but it's nature was the same. I see that nature in you when you watch Katara and talk about her."

Zuko sat down next to him, eyes directed at the shimmering water, too. "Do you see that same nature in Katara when she looks at me and talks about me?"

Aang shrugged, surprised by the question. "I don't know. You and I have spent far more time together than me and her. I've really only seen her a couple of times in the past nine years. You'd have to ask her."

"I can't," Zuko muttered, face twisting. "She won't talk to me."

"Why?"

Zuko glanced at him, golden eyes bitter. "While you were gone, we mastered our chakras."

Aang blinked and finally stretched out his senses and immediately realized the truth; Zuko's chi flow was much stronger. "Congratulations," he commended.

"I saw the truth I was always denying," Zuko continued. "I saw her and what I want with her; I saw that I loved her and that I've always been looking for a woman like her. It turns out, there's no one better than her herself. I told her the truth about what I felt and how it made sense, how it started during the Great War with an indestructible foundation. I was honest with her. Mom told me to be honest, and I was."

He saw the conclusion of Zuko's honesty. "It didn't go well."

Zuko's fists clenched in his lap. "Not at all. It was all dragonshit. She was trying to avoid it; she was being a coward. I was honest, and she didn't like it. I told her about the foundation and how I wanted to keep building on it with her, but by doing that, I had to tell her how the foundation was always there, even when I hated her. She didn't like that, asked if there was anything else she needed to know, and I told her about the concubines."

Aang's brows rose, surprised. "You didn't?"

"I did," Zuko confirmed, face harsh. "I told her that I used them; I told her that I stopped nine months ago; I told her that none of them mattered at all; I told her I'd kill them if she asked me to. I was trying to make her see that none of them mattered. I don't care about any of them! I've never cared! But then she looked at me like she didn't know me and ran off!" A plume of fire spewed out of Zuko's mouth in frustration. "I've tried to talk to her since, but she won't hear a word of it; she won't listen. She's the most listening person I've ever met, but she won't even listen to me! It's fucking dragonshit! She's being a fucking coward!"

"Give her time," he advised, knowing it was the only explanation. "That's what it took for me with Azula."

Zuko laughed slightly, not sounding amused. "Of course. Here I was planning to rip you a new one for Azula. I was even thinking about challenging you to an Agni Kai. But then you got me talking about Katara, changing the focus."

"It wasn't intentional- "

"Maybe you could get through to Katara," Zuko said with mockery. "You ran off on Azula, and Katara ran off on me. You're both insane."

Aang shrugged. "Maybe. But I've learned a lot recently. Maybe I could share it with Katara, but I don't know what Katara's problem is with it. Jealousy?"

Zuko rolled his eyes. "There's nothing to be jealous over. I can't even remember any of the concubines; I've never wasted a thought thinking about them. When I was with them, some of the time, I was thinking about her!"

He hesitated. "You probably don't want to say that to her."

"I know," Zuko muttered. "But she shouldn't be jealous."

Aang nodded in agreement. "Air teaches that sex equals marriage; it is marriage. Maybe Katara recognizes that on some level and hates that you sullied Family by doing what you did."

Zuko sighed. "Azula said something similar. But what was I supposed to do? You know how bad it was back then."

He closed his eyes, recalling the pressures and stresses of the world during those years, how it was intense, teetering on catastrophe because too many people wanted vengeance and retribution. "You had your concubines, and I had my hatred," he whispered. "And we were married to each of them. It's what kept us alive, isn't it?"

"Yes, but not for lack of trying," Zuko said with slim amusement, brushing his fingers over the deep jagged scar extending across the curve of his neck, disappearing into the hair on the back of his head—inflicted on him by a concubine trying to assassinate him, Aang knew. "But I'm done with the concubines—I've been done with them for a long time. Are you done with your hatred? Are you going to be married to that or to- "

"I laid with her again when I came back," Aang interrupted, holding Zuko's gaze. "I meant it. I was half out of my mind in exhaustion, but I meant it; I knew what I was doing—it was the only thing on my mind. I wanted to show her the truth—I love her. I married her again. I reinforced my commitment, letting her know that it's not a mistake; it's never a mistake."

Zuko stared at him for several moments before grunting. "Tell her that, not me."

"I will."

"You're going to have to tell her a lot. What you did was dragonshit."

"I wasn't in the mood for the older brother protection speech all those months ago, and I'm not in the mood now."

Zuko's fists clenched. "That's not good enough- "

"Zuko," Aang interrupted, voice adamant but soft; it almost seared with its intensity. "I know. But I needed to leave; it was the only way. Now I have no regrets. I am at peace with what happened then, and I have peace that Azula is my wife. I love her, and she will be the Mother of Air." A smile stretched across his face, dimly noticing that Zuko looked relieved by the sight. "In fact, she already is Mother of Air, for Samir is her daughter now, isn't she?"

That had to be why Samir was lying in the furs with them in the tent—Azula recognized Samir as her daughter, adopting her.

"She is," Zuko confirmed. "She's a great kid. Everyone loves her."

"And you?"

"I'd rather be called 'Uncle Zuko' rather than 'Uncle Zuzu,'" Zuko drawled, "but Azula got to her first."

"She didn't turn her against you or anything at the Eastern Temple," Aang assured. "If anything, it seemed like she was proud of you."

Zuko snorted. "Yeah. Now she has my niece going around telling everyone I'm her 'Uncle Zuzu.' At least she says I'm not ugly."

"Azula or- "

"Samir."

Aang smiled slightly. "I've never thought you were ugly if it helps."

Zuko's only brow rose. "It doesn't. I don't care what you think I look like." He gestured to the state of his body. "You're pretty ugly right now, too, and I know you don't care that I think so."

He looked down at his emaciated body, disheartened. "Do you think Azula will care?"

"I would regain your strength as soon as possible," Zuko advised with a neutral look on his face.

Aang nodded. "I plan to."

"Azula said you said that you didn't eat or drink for three to four weeks."

That sounded right. "Something like that. Well, I had several servings of a stew probably about two weeks ago now or so. But that's it."

Zuko shook his head in disbelief. "Don't tell Katara it's true. She was so horrified when she heard it that I thought she might actually start talking to me again. She tried to heal you but couldn't do anything, which made her even more horrified. I was almost glad because I thought she'd finally talk to me again—but she didn't."

Aang grinned and elbowed him in camaraderie. "I'll tell her it was ten weeks if it makes her talk to you again."

A shocked but choked laugh echoed, along with a returned smirk. "That's a nice thought, but you need to think of what she'll do to you if you tell her that."

"Smother me?"

"I was thinking a lecture."

"The difference being?"

Zuko shook his head with a wry look on his face. "Samir's going to be able to talk her way out of anything with you and Azula as her parents. She's going to learn from the best."

"I don't talk my way out of things often," Aang defended.

"You talked me into letting your running off slide," Zuko said, unimpressed. "I was more pissed than anyone about it, including Azula and Mom."

He winced. "Sorry—I mean that. You know I do."

Zuko looked disgruntled before a deep, weary sigh echoed. "I know. I don't know what it is about you, but there's something different. I've sat here, watching you, waiting to see what I thought I'd see—but there's nothing. It doesn't exist, not anymore. I don't know how, but you're at peace. It's clear to me. You mean it. You're Azula's husband. We're really brothers now."

Aang thought of Gyatso and smiled, though it was sad; he knew it would become one of joy eventually, but the Attack was too near in his memory. "I made the right choice. She's my wife—my Mother of Air. I've loved her longer than I was comfortable admitting."

"I know," Zuko drawled, amused, before it faded swiftly, replaced by a daunting urgency. "But what about Sozin? You said you wanted Air free from Sozin. That's what this has always been about, hasn't it?"

Aang shook his head immediately. "No. It was about my guilt and shame in loving a woman of her line."

Zuko smiled without mirth, eyes boring into him. "Because of Sozin. Are you okay with that? Air will have Sozin forever now. Can you live with it?"

"Yes," he answered, not wanting to go into specifics but knowing he needed to give something. "I learned a lot. My assumptions were wrong. My race isn't as I thought they were, and I know Sozin isn't how I thought he was, either."

Silence.

"That's mature of you," Zuko commended, leaning back slightly, evaluating him from a new angle. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Me neither," Aang agreed, thinking of how difficult it was for Gyatso to convince him of anything, least of all the truth about Air and Sozin's motivations.

How miraculous Gyatso's steadfastness and patience were!

"The world is a complicated place," he whispered, brushing his fingers over the soil. "You think you have things figured out, surer of it than anything, but then something—or someone—comes along and puts you in a haze of confusion, horror, and denial. You can either reject it and keep your incomprehension, or you can embrace it and work slowly to incorporate everything you can to make it sensible—make it comprehensible. I would have decapitated myself before ever admitting my race's numerous flaws and crimes; I thought it would be that way forever. I would have murdered anyone who defended Sozin before ever assessing and analyzing him honestly; I thought I would keep that vow across all my future lifetimes."

He had looked into Sozin's eyes, stared at his face, and not killed him; he had spared Sozin, something that was unthinkable and impossible even the day before he encountered him. But Gyatso meticulously peeled away all the layers of deception and confusion strangling him, directing his focus, attention, and intelligence with gentleness and patience to see the truth—to see how all the horrifying, jagged pieces fit together to display an unbelievable truth.

Gyatso made him see What Is for the first time in his life, which allowed him to accept What Is.

"But it's changed," Zuko concluded, watching him.

Aang nodded. "I don't like Sozin; I don't forgive him, either. And part of me certainly still hates him, but I understand how it all happened—I understand. I don't know if I actually hate him. I don't like thinking about him anymore where I only thought about him before. I don't think that's hatred. I mean, how can I hate him when I understand what happened? I'm trying to hate Sozin, and I'm going to keep trying to hate him. He was a great man. Not good, but certainly great, and I realize that Air didn't have greatness—because greatness is always needed. Sozin was so great he was able to ruin Air, which was powerful and beautiful. What if I've always needed someone who's similarly great to bring back Air and make it strong, so it can't be ruined like it once was, because it was ruined once, meaning it wasn't actually great or as great as it could have been? And that someone who's great can't be me because I'm not enough. Azula could be, though—or rather, the greatness in her blood that she'll pass to our children, which will combine with my greatness to create children unstoppable and unconquerable. I realize now that there's something admirable about Sozin—there are actually many things admirable about Sozin. He had strength and will; he saw that something was wrong and worked to fix it; he saw what was happening to his race at the hands of my race and endeavored to fix it, doing everything he could. Not just anyone can conquer half the Earth Kingdom; not just anyone can lead an invasion as successful as Air's slaughter; not just anyone can keep a war effort going for so long; not just any great man can make descendants who are similarly great, if not understandably lesser. Air hated him; Water hated him; and Earth hated him—it will always be that way. But those were his enemies, and you can't ever trust what an enemy says about his enemies. You can't trust fully what Air, Water, and Earth say about Sozin. You have to also look at what Fire says about him, and Fire doesn't hate him and never will—because he was a Fire Lord of Fire and for Fire. I understand him now, and because of it, I can't hate him, even though I want to, and I'm going to keep trying to hate him. I understand what he saw; I understand what he heard; I understand what he felt; I understand what he learned; and I understand how it all mingled together in his thoughts, which he directed at Air. I always thought he was a madman, but he was profoundly intelligent; I thought he was too stupid to see what he was doing, but he knew exactly what he was doing. I even think part of him was sad that things had reached the points they did. I think he felt forced to act; I think if he saw another option, he would have taken it. I thought he always attacked out of hatred. It never occurred to me that he attacked out of love, but that's what it was, wasn't it? He loved Fire; he loved his race." He squeezed his eyes shut, seeing how it would have played out otherwise. "And he knew Fire was being threatened by my race; he knew we would destroy him. He knew that I would destroy him if the High Council told me to. He understood what was going on. He saw the consequences of letting my race live, continuing to plot in apathy. He saw there was no other option but to attack and wipe out the threat—the nuisance hated across the whole world."

It was painfully obvious to him that the Boy would have listened to the High Council, unknowing of anything else to do; the Boy would have murdered Sozin—or, more likely, captured him and brought him to the High Council, who would murder Sozin themselves in secret, keeping the Boy oblivious to it, which was powerfully possible since the Boy was naïve and gullible.

Zuko stared at him, amazed. "You really did learn a lot," he whispered, shocked. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

He glanced at Zuko. "But it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"It does."

"You can feel its rightness, can't you? You know that's what happened; you know that's how it all played out."

Zuko swallowed. "Right."

Aang nodded and reclined back, resting his elbows in the dirt. "Because that is what happened," he confirmed. "I learned the truth, and I accept it. It's the hardest thing I've ever done and ever will do, but I accept it. But because I accept it, I accept Azula, too. I don't know if I'll ever forgive Sozin—I really doubt it because I don't want to, and I'm never going to want to as far as I can see—but I can start something by embracing Azula as my wife, which she is. There's no woman better than her."

"Don't let her hear you say that," Zuko muttered with a look of wonder on his face. "I'm glad to hear you say that, I really am, but I don't want to hear her saying that."

He grinned. "I'll just tell Samir, who will say it for her."

Zuko groaned. "I can picture it now. 'Uncle Zuzu, why aren't you as good as Mommy? There's no woman better than her. Why aren't you the best man like she's the best woman?' Azula will probably laugh and laugh and laugh. It will be just like when we were kids."

Aang grin softened into a smile. "Something tells me that you want that."

"I want it in moderation," Zuko corrected quickly. "I don't want anything extreme, but Azula has always done things by the extreme."

"I think she's found more of a balance."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Of course, you'd say that."

Aang shrugged. "I think her and I make a good match. I think you and Katara do, too."

Silence.

"I'm tired of being alone," Zuko said with quiet finality. "I can be alone for the rest of my life; it's within my capability. But I don't want it. I don't want to be alone anymore."

Aang nodded. "Solitude can quickly become isolation. I haven't been The Avatar I should be; I never have been. You told me that I need to start thinking of the immortal because this is a game of gods. But I can't do it alone; I need you all. I tried to fight Ozai and Vaatu by myself, and I got Azula killed—because I couldn't do it alone. The only reason I wasn't reborn is that Azula dove in front of the lightning meant for me."

Zuko cringed. "Must be a family trait," he whispered, clearly recalling a similar instance in his life when he did the same for Katara.

"A powerful one," Aang observed, gray eyes knowing. "It made me more aware. I'm done with my isolation. It's time to be The Avatar that I need to be. It's not going to be easy with Vaatu, and there will be many losses before victories, but we'll win, and we're all going to come out of this, alive."

"Is that a promise or prophecy?"

"I hope it's both."

"Me too."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Zuko eventually left him sitting by the lake, citing his preference to meditate alone, as Agni rose. Aang watched the light rise, tracing it, wondering if Agni had managed to reform yet. It was probable that he had, but Aang admitted with dark satisfaction that he wanted Agni to still be struggling in agony to reform his body.

But with the three months that had passed, he was certain that Agni—and Devi, too—managed to reform, which meant Vaatu had two of the Elementals on his side again. For the first time, especially after realizing that Sozin's motivations had ran so much deeper, brimming with complexity and intelligence, he began to wonder why Agni allied with Vaatu. He already knew why Devi allied with Vaatu—that took no effort to discern. But what about Agni? Agni helped set everything in motion. It was Agni who Vaatu lured to the Tree of Time, helping set everything for the Great War in motion. But what did Vaatu promise Agni? Why did Agni decide to ally with Vaatu?

Did Agni somehow want revenge against him like Devi did? Was there something that Kuruk or Kyoshi did that enraged Agni and made him feel powerless, provoking him to avow revenge if he ever had the chance, which Vaatu gave him?

He had no idea and briefly wondered if he should go the Tree to ask It, but he had the instinct that the Tree would not tell him anything of substance, wanting him to figure it out himself.

Approaching familiar vibrations caught his attention, making his heart thrum swiftly in anticipation. It was the moment he had tried but failed to prepare himself for, trying to think desperately of something to say that could explain his radical change in perception, but the only thing he heard was his pulse rattling in his ears.

Aang stood to his feet and turned around, unable to do anything else, but froze upon seeing Azula, stunned.

She wore Air's colors, a new outfit that was not a mix of Fire's pants and his old upper garb; it was a fitted Air outfit, from her covered feet to the robes swirling around her chest, braced on her shoulders, down which her mesmerizing hair sloped in waves.

If he had thought that she was beautiful before, it was insignificant compared to what he now thought of her. He was unsure he had ever seen someone so powerfully attractive in his life, making him speechless from the beauty—all he wanted to do was look at her, for she awakened something inside him.

He wanted to love her and marry her again.

The fact that she was, of her own accord, wearing his race's colors filled him with emotions, for he knew that she knew the significance, implications, and declaration that she was making. When a woman came of marrying age and found her husband, she would distance herself away from her birth family and become an integral focal point in her husband's family, mothering the new generation. This was done by the styling of clothing, and if the woman's husband was of a different nation than she herself was, which while very uncommon, it had happened before with those of royal or high blood, the woman would only wear the garments of her husband's nation, declaring herself part of the new nation, showing her loyalty and love for him.

Azula knew what her actions conveyed by wearing Air's garments, and by the way she stared at him, she wanted him to see it.

She declared her attachment to Air, willing to distance herself from the Fire Nation, from her home for Air—all for him and her, for he knew she was earnest in her love for Air.

Once, she had been the worst of his enemies, even more than Ozai and Zuko, her own family, for she did what no one ever did—nearly killed him. But now, she held an esteemed position in his life, for he trusted no one more than her; he loved no one more than her. She put up with his madness, which he knew was extensive, and bore his cruelty, seeing what no one else did—she saw the truth and understood. She wanted to be the Mother of Air not for power, prestige, or renown; she wanted to be the Mother of Air because she loved Air and wanted to see it return to the world, for she understood Air and looked to freedom.

Truly, she was more Air Nomad than any of Air's past generations except for Gyatso and his parents.

He gazed at her—his Mother of Air!—beautiful form dressed in his race's garbs. Her black hair flowed down her back, framing her face in loose waves and the orange, red, and yellow colors swirled around her body beautifully, complimenting her fair, lovely complexion and golden eyes. How she had wrapped the garments around her body was different from anything that he had ever seen, but he recognized it; it was reminiscent of her Fire Nation attire in the way that it was presented, how she was able to move in it—all very form-fitting. From what he could discern, Azula would have no trouble whatsoever performing feats of bending in the Air garments, looking more perfect than she ever had before.

She kept staring back at him for a long time, silent, mesmerizing golden eyes roaming his face and bare chest, before she finally approached, face calm, but her golden eyes were intense. "Have I dressed appropriately?" she asked, voice not as light as she surely wanted.

Aang swallowed, mesmerized by how she looked in his race's colors. "If you wanted me to lay with you the first day we met, all you had to do is wear that," he breathed, unable to say anything else.

Azula smirked and raised one of her covered shoulders, emphasizing Air's colors. "Or simply be nude."

He was unable to deny it. "Yes."

She sighed in lament before waving a hand. "Probably best we did not."

Silence.

It was not awkward, but there was a tension, which Aang noticed immediately, something he knew she was aware of. It was not that neither knew what to say but that there was too much to say, and neither knew how to begin, how to flow into something so daunting.

Azula finally looked away, but Aang could not look away; he stared and stared at her, overwhelmed. "Last time we conversed here, it did not go well," she began, voice soft but neutral.

Aang remembered, nodding his head. "This one will be much better."

"Will it?"

He swallowed. "I'm not angry you're wearing those. I love it."

Azula glanced at him before something flashed over her face—a gladness. "So, my gesture of faith was right to make."

"Gesture of faith?" he echoed, confused.

Her golden eyes bore into him, fearless. "You said something to me when you returned, and I did not know if you meant it. I decided to take a chance—make a gesture of faith—that you did mean it."

Aang's brows furrowed, trying to think of what she alluded to before he tensed, realizing—she alluded to the fact he told her he wanted to marry her again after he returned, which culminated in their relations, no matter how brief it was.

"We're married," he rushed out, staring at her warily. "I told you when I came back, but I should have told you before. I'm sorry that I didn't. When we had sex after I returned your spirit to your body, we married in Air's eyes. That's the truth."

Azula's lips curled slightly. "It took you long enough to tell me."

He blinked, astonished, realizing the truth. That was how Zuko knew they were married, for Azula herself had already known! He thought Zuko knew because of something that Aang told him years ago. "You knew?"

She looked insulted briefly. "Of course, I knew. You are my husband, and I am your wife." She gestured dramatically to the Air garments that she wore. "Why else would I wear this?"

Aang hesitated, not wanting to make false conclusions, not wanting to read too much into her actions. "I thought it was because it's comfortable."

"Most comfortable," Azula corrected with a half-hearted smirk; there was a silent pain on her face, which she clearly tried to mask. But he knew her too well. "But I know we are married; I knew since the moment consummation occurred that we were married. Sex is marriage."

"You knew the whole time," he whispered, swallowing.

Azula stared up at him and nodded, silent.

He realized how deeply he wounded her with his actions, particularly since, unknown to him, she knew all along that they were married. When he went to the Immortal Realm, he thought she had no idea they were married; he thought the burden was only on himself. But the burden had been on her, as well, and he made her bear it alone, making her think that he rejected her, using her as a whore because he distrusted and hated her so deeply—because of her blood.

He needed to prove himself to her, show his honesty, affirming that he didn't care about her blood—not like he once did.

There was only solution.

Aang pulled water from the lake and created a sharp shard, holding it in his hand; with his other hand, he reached out and gripped her own, much smaller than his. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

Azula stared up at him. "Yes."

"Thank you," he whispered, grateful that she was willing to trust him when he clearly didn't deserve it. He grasped her hand gently and pulled it toward the ice-knife, knowing it would make her see the truth; it was all that mattered, as Air taught.

"You make it difficult to trust you," she drawled, brows pinching.

"Trust me," he soothed in encouragement.

He dipped the edge of the knife into her palm gently, cutting a small gash out of which her blood—her precious, life-giving blood—trickled. Aang smiled slightly and opened his palm and did the same, cutting a small gash, freeing his blood to the world temporarily.

"I love you," he whispered, staring at her, holding her restrained gaze. "I love all of you, even that part I didn't before." He clasped their bleeding hands together, blood mixing, compressed and unionized, and he kissed her fingers and the top of her hand. "I want you."

Aang watched as it happened; something cracked inside Azula, conveyed by her wavering face before he pulled her into a tight embrace. She kept their hands joined, compressed even more together by their chests, while wrapping her other arm around his bare back; he reciprocated, holding her against him, cherishing her.

"I'm so sorry," Aang breathed. "For everything, I'm sorry."

Azula's embrace tightened, and he took strength from her; they embraced each other for a long time, standing there, memorizing each other, becoming familiar with each other again, relearning who they were. He felt the wind breeze around them, not by his doing, and imagined Gyatso's warm, kind laughter and dazzling gray eyes directed at them in joy and pride.

He wished he could describe Gyatso to her in such detail that she felt like she knew him; he wanted her to know Gyatso.

Finally, Azula pulled back with several sniffs and laughed slightly, wiping away her tears. "Look what you have made me."

He glanced down at her. "What's that?"

"A wife," she whispered, amused, eyes red. "I have closure now. While you were gone, I was antsy and felt like I could not relax; I wanted to rest but never could. But now I can; I can be. I know we are okay; we are at peace. There is no conflict."

Aang tried to smile but it came out as a grimace. "I'm sorry there was at first."

"I should have never nominated myself for Mother of Air," she said softly. "Not for lack of wanting to do it and help you, but because it was not my right to do so. I should have let you decide and ask me. I am sorry it took me so long to see that."

He sighed as he healed both of their hands of the light gashes. "We both made mistakes. I made many more than you did."

"Naturally," she teased with a smirk.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew we're married?"

Azula's smirk disappeared as she was silent for several long moments. "Perhaps if I did not already know, I would feel irritated, but I wanted to wait until you could have the peace to admit that one of Sozin's heirs is your wife." Azula hands were precise as they gripped his. "I was content to have you in any way I could; if I were only to be your acknowledged mistress rather than your acknowledged wife, that was okay. I wanted everything you could give me, and you could not give me the title of Wife initially, and I understood why."

Aang stared down at her in awe. "You put up with a lot."

The smile on her face had a touch of conceit—well, more than a touch. "It is not merely any woman who can be the wife of The Avatar and Last of Air."

He cupped her face. "It's only you."

Azula's golden eyes were captivating. "Careful, Kuruk. We do not want me pregnant yet. We have a war to fight first."

Aang laughed. "I can ask Zuko for advice on how not to get you pregnant."

She rolled her eyes. "How he has not sired a brood of bastards by now I cannot say."

"Something about tea," he recalled, remembering Zuko's warnings. "He will probably buy us some when we leave here."

Azula nodded. "It would be very 'big brother' of him."

Aang's hands caressed her arms through her garbs, amazed, basking in the feel. "I can't believe you're wearing this. Where did you get it? Did you take it from the Eastern Temple?"

Azula's fingers brushed over his bare chest, making him shiver. "Yes. I went there while you were gone, thinking you might have gone there. I spoke with Pathik, who gave these to me, and brought Samir back."

He nodded, digesting the information. "You've been busy."

Her eyes roamed his emaciated chest, somber. "Not as busy as you," she whispered. "I am unsure how you are alive."

Aang laughed slightly, though he didn't feel amused. "Hatred. It's kept me alive all my life; it kept me alive for this."

Something passed over Azula's face, and he didn't know what it was—until she reached into her garments, peeling back the robe's layers, and pulled out parchment. "I also went to the Southern Temple, thinking you would be there. You were not. But I searched and found this in your quarters there. I read it. You wrote it to Gyatso months before you met me on Ember Island."

He accepted the offered parchment with a tentative, knowing the contents of the message—not specifically, but he knew the core. "Before my vacation."

Azula nodded. "I read it. I thought you might want to read it. I admire your honesty."

Aang looked down and read his letter to Gyatso, absorbed into its primacy:

Gyatso,

Where are you? Are you still hiding away somewhere? Are you in a place so remote that you haven't heard of The Avatar's return? Are you living on another lion turtle's back? Did you grow out your hair if you had any hair to grow and confuse your appearance to blend in with the other races? Did you stick to the shadows, living by night's darkness rather than day's light? Did you run to the corners of the world? Did you run until your feet were unrecognizable? Did you meet any other Airbenders who miraculously survived the Attack? Have you all banded together and found a stable shelter that has housed you for all this time? Have you created a new community of Airbenders, unknown to anyone? Have you lived untouched by the Great War except its first day?

I'm going to find you one day, Gyatso. I've scoured the world thirteen times over already, but I'll never stop until I find you—because you have to be somewhere. I can't be alone. I can't be the last of us. Don't you see what I've become, Gyatso? It's only going to get worse, and I'm scared for myself. I look at myself often and don't recognize who I am. Ever since I learned about The Avatar, I haven't recognized myself. But it's different now. Would you recognize me if you saw me now? When I find you, wherever you are, will you open your arms in greeting or close them to fight an enemy? I've changed so much—more than I thought I was capable of. The Boy is dead; he's a stupid memory, but I keep his memory alive even though he doesn't deserve it because the Boy is who knew you and has the memories of you.

Do you know what it means, Gyatso, being the Last Airbender? I have to father a new race of us. That's what the sages tell me, as if I don't know myself. I don't like the sages—they're idiots, who think they know everything and must advise me on what I need to do. I know more than they ever will what I need to do, and it infuriates me that they talk to me like a child. But they are right to, aren't they? I'm still a child in their eyes, on the cusp of manhood, even though I'm nineteen—or, rather, one-hundred-nineteen. They want a child to father children, and it's what the world demands. Everyone says that Air must be revived as soon as possible, but no one can even describe Air! No one knows what Air is like! If no one knew my appearance, no one would know what Air Nomads look like! They don't know our beliefs; they don't know our ethics; they don't know our practices; they don't know our customs; they don't know our wisdom; they don't know why we do things the way we do; they don't know our history; they don't know our culture; they don't know our race. And they dare tell me that they know what I have to do? No, they are despicable. The pressure is unholy—because the task is unholy. Everything that I love can only be loved by me; I can't share it with anyone, not even my children. Don't you see? How can I create a new generation of Air when the new generation won't be of Air? I have to father a half-spawned new generation, but there's no womb worthy in the world to carry Air because there's no Air womb; there are only Water wombs, Earth wombs, and Fire wombs. But no matter what I do, the new generation will be half-spawns, untied to Air as they will be called by two elements—and, thus, no elements.

I'm going to lose the purity of our blood, Gyatso, absorbed by the other races, who are so much lesser than us. It's so obvious watching them and analyzing them, looking at the ways they talk and the nonsense they believe. None of them were strong enough to end the Great War; they relied on me, a child, to end it. How could a child put an end to what men failed to for a century? Why did it take a child to stop what no one else could? How could none of them have the strength and will to stop fighting, to find peace and balance? How could none of them have risen above their innate weaknesses, realize their extensive errors, and just stop? How could none of them look to something greater than themselves instead of drinking the blood of their enemies? How could none of them see a murdered corpse and shudder? How could none of them see a raped woman and wither? How could none of them see a child's brains bashed in and die? It's pathetic; it's disgraceful; it's evil—because they're those things, aren't they? The Great War showed me, and continues to show to me the more that I think about it, what failures the other races are. We would have ended the Great War in months if not for Sozin's Comet; we would have shown the other races the way. None of the others have accomplished what we have. Look at our temples! Look at our artifacts! Look at the wisdom we pursued and the enlightenment obtained!

The others worship War, Gyatso—it's so clear to me. How did I never see it before? How did I make friends with them during the War? How could the Boy have been such a stupid fool like they were? It must be true, or parts of it must be. Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't actually enjoy it, deep down? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't anticipate the blood spraying against their flesh in a warm mist? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't look forward to seeing their enemies on a field of blood-soaked land? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't relish conquering others? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't find pleasure in making half-spawns with women who hated them and the half-spawns forced on them? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't disagree with its aims and objectives? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't care about solving problems and finding solutions to the plights evoked? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't ignore Air's higher teachings because they hated Air's higher teachings, searching for the thrill of slaughter and rape? There's only one explanation—they're in love with spilling blood and raping and murdering each other, even for a century straight. They are savages. It's said that Sozin claimed he was spreading civilization, but all he did was reinforce Fire, Earth, and Water's primitive and uncivilized states, enslaved to War. That's all he did. Water worships fighting, Earth rewards it, and Fire honors it. What's wrong with all of them? They're sick and pathetic. I want to be free of them, but I can't—I can't!

Because now I have to rely on them to revive Air, Gyatso. It's impossible, isn't it? But unlike last time, I'm going to watch us die. I'm going to be there for this slow demise—a gentle eradication that no one will notice but me. My children will not love Air like I do, for they will feel the touch of another Element. They are compromised forever, mutilated by Water, Earth, and Fire's primitivity. They are impure, unable to love what I love. Water and Earth are really no better than Fire, for they embraced what Fire embraced just as easily, falling into the weak sin of evil. And they're never going to learn—they will make the same mistakes, commit the same crimes, and live the same lives. Sozin led the world by the hand, and the world followed, facilitated by Water and Earth's pathetic natures. Sure, Water and Earth opposed Sozin, but they fell right into Sozin's beliefs and did the same things that Fire did, provoked by Sozin, unable to resist. There were no good guys in the Great War, were there? Both sides raped, pilfered, and murdered whenever possible—and there were many possibilities. There were no good guys because we were slaughtered off. We were the only race standing between the world's peace and the world's damnation. It was always us. We have always been the most important. It is of profound significance that the Great War happened, devastating the Mortal Realm for an entire century—a century!—only after Air was murdered, leaving a void of vulnerability, bereft of our protection. We were the only ones who could have stopped it all from happening. Sozin knew it—I know he did. It wasn't only about The Avatar, was it? The Avatar was by far the biggest part, certainly, but there was the hidden dread that Air possessed unrivaled strength and ancient wisdom, elevated above the other races. Sozin knew we could stop him, which is why he weaponized the celestial advantage of Sozin's Comet.

Our renown kept the world's balance, Gyatso, didn't it? It was never the other races, who are too stupid to do anything but go to war; it was always us. We were the world's saviors for countless generations. It wasn't even The Avatar, was it? It was always us, deep down. But what happened to us? We were wiped from the face of the world and not even a memory is left of us. The only memory that exists is that which fades in my mind, and I can't describe what we are in any intelligent way to convey an accurate picture and idea to anyone who will listen. But there's no one who will listen, is there? No one cares about Air but me; no one understands the loss; no one understands what Sozin did to us. And it wouldn't surprise me if Sozin reached out of the Gardens, past Death, and ruined us again. I'm never going to let that happen. I will take extensive measures to ensure that we are free from Sozin forever; I will sever the Mortal Realm from the Immortal Realm if I have to—if it is the only solution that will work. We must return, but how can we? Sozin accomplished his aims except for me. We are gone, and not even The Avatar's transcendent power can bring us back. I've tried. The only solution is to use the wombs offered to me, but there are no wombs acceptable to me. I find it more likely that the wombs available would poison my children before carrying them. Even if they are born, they will still be poisoned; they will be infected; they will be unnatural, won't they? My children will be degenerates. It's what's going to happen. It's unfair; it's unacceptable; it's worthless; it's ugly; it's evil. I know you will say that my children would be none of those things, and I agree, but the entire situation is those things, which will reflect on my children because they will be born of the situation, reflecting on them, making them those things in time. Or if not them, my grandchildren. No matter what I do, we lose—we go extinct. I'll revive Air only for it to die again. I don't know what to do about that. I'll end up murdering Air again!

It's too much, Gyatso. I think about Death a lot. Not a day goes by where I don't think about it. I've considered killing myself. I've made plans, written notes of my will and wishes, and swore I would go through with it, but every time it comes time to act, I can't do it. I'm even a failure at that. I've jumped off the temple ledge, plummeting to the ground, and I vowed not to use airbending to land so the crash would kill me, mangle me beyond recognition, but no matter what I did, no matter how I screamed at myself to not do it, I did it—I landed rather than crashed. I've tried to aim for the rocks, jump directly over them so I'd crash there, but I save myself every time. Why? Why am I such a failure? I've carved knives and spears and swords, and every time I graze the knife's edge across my flesh, whether my throat or my chest, I can't puncture. I've tried to impale myself on the spears and swords, but I destroy them each time before I'm impaled. I've tried to drown myself in the South's ocean surrounding our mountain range, forcing myself to the ocean's floor, but I save myself; I've tried bloodbending my heart to make it explode, and though I can hold my own blood and grip my heart, even squeeze it, I can't crush it. I've tried to set myself on fire and walk through blazing flames in the valley, but I counteract the flames with my firebending always. I can't stop myself. I've tried to suffocate myself, but my airbending won't do it. I can't make myself; I lack will, weak and pathetic—like the Boy. I've looked to the heavens and ordered lightning to strike me. When the heavens cried its tears of rain in refusal, I flew to its genesis and looked for the holy storms that shake the world, and I find them every time I look for them. I fly in the titanic storms born of Heaven, but they never dare touch me; they recognize my sovereignty, and I wish they didn't. I don't want them to. I've scared wild animals and tried to get them to attack me, and some refuse to, too scared, but others do. But when they rush at me, I don't let myself be skewered or trampled; I jump out of the way or stop the animals.

But there were other ideas, Gyatso. I've even tried something as simple as asking someone to kill me, but no one will. When I say The Avatar demands it, no one will do it. Even when I disguise myself with a hat and obscure my tattoo of mastery, and I ask people to end my life, offering all the money I can find and obtain, which is a lot, and I tell them how much it is, none of them will do it. I've snuck into some of the worst prisons in the world, from the Boiling Rock to the Dai Li's secret dungeons, encountering Sozin's kins of spirit, to finally give me the absolution I want. I've asked murderers to kill me—to do to me what they do best—but none dare. Not even the rapists will touch me! What's wrong with me? Why will no one do as I wish? Do they see something on my face that scares them? Do they see my eyes and stop themselves? Why? I've considered going to the one person I know will kill me for sure—Ozai. I've thought about sneaking into Ozai's cell under Zuko's nose and opening myself to the vengeance Ozai seeks. I've visited Zuko just for that purpose, surprising him by showing up randomly in the Caldera. Zuko didn't know that I was telling him goodbye, the only person I cared enough about to say goodbye to, and he had no idea. I snuck down to Ozai's cell in the night, induced slumber in the guards, and entered, unseen and unheard, into the cell. I watched Ozai as he slept. I was going to wake him up, attack him, belittle him, mock him, do anything it took to make him react in rage. But I couldn't bring myself to wake him up and go through with my plan. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I can't bring myself to go through with any of my plans, and it haunts me because my lack of will is disgusting and stupid—because I'm those things. It keeps me awake, untouched by sleep, which is as close to death as I'll ever get, it seems.

I can't kill myself, Gyatso. Something's holding me back; something's saving my life. But it's not a mystery; it's not something I need to ask you about. I don't need your advice or wisdom for it. Because I know exactly what's keeping me alive. I know what it is, and it's not love; it's not joy; it's not pleasure; it's not faith; it's not hope; it's not my memories; and it's not my instincts. It's something shameful but true, and I don't know how to tell you; I don't know if I should tell you. How do I tell you? How do I ruin your perception of me? How do I make you scared for me? How do I make you horrified by me? How do I do this to you? How do I wither your spirit and taint your memories, making you second-guess everything as I have for so long? How do I tell you the truth? But above anyone, I trust you, and I'm going to tell you. I know you're happy that I'm still living and that you would thank whatever is keeping me alive in gratefulness and joy, but you could never thank what's keeping me alive. I know you can't. You're going to be horrified and shaken; you're not going to believe it. You're going to deny it and look every which way for something or someone to blame rather than accept it. I know you will—because I've done the same. But it's true—it's all me. I know it will pain you; I know it will hurt you; I know you will never look at me the same way again. But I'm going to tell you the truth because I trust you to know my secret. I want you, you alone, to know my secret, and I know you don't want to know it, but I'm too weak to keep it to myself anymore. I've performed for everyone else in this stupid time, but I'm not going to perform for you. I refuse to perform for you. You're everything, and I trust you to know my secret.

I hate, Gyatso; I hate so much and so deeply. It's my hate that keeps me alive. I hate so much more than I love, and I think it will be that way forever. I know I shouldn't hate, but I do. I can't help it. Every time I try not to hate, I end up hating more—because I actually want to hate. I want my hatred; I want it more than anything that's possible. My hatred is my friend—my only true friend, for it's been with me the whole time during all this evil. It's the one thing that's been my confidant, loyal no matter what happens, regardless of the events that shape my damned life, and it's never judged me. It's slept when I've slept, mourned when I've mourned, traveled when I've traveled, attacked when I've attacked, and hungered when I've hungered. It's part of me, and I wouldn't have it in any other way—it's all I have left. Because, for so long, I've been hatred—I am hatred, Gyatso. Maybe I found my wife—the Mother of Air—in my hatred. Maybe that's it. Because my hatred is my wife. The truth is—I love my hatred, and I trust my hatred. I love hating because the only thing that satisfies me and makes me feel settled rather than lost is my hatred; the only thing that stabilizes me amidst all the madness gnawing at my mind and poisoning everything I do is my hatred. I know you're disappointed in me. I know I'm not supposed to hate, but I do. How can I not? I don't know how. You were murdered by a raping madman, and I'm not supposed to hate it? I'm not supposed to hate Sozin? I'm not supposed to hate Sozin's Comet? I'm not supposed to hate the world and everyone in it for letting this evil happen? I'm not supposed to hate Roku for sparing Sozin? I'm not supposed to hate myself for being such a miserable, pathetic, disgraceful failure? I'm not supposed to hate myself for it being my fault? I'm not supposed to hate The Avatar?

I can't do it, Gyatso—I can't. I have to hate. With every breath I take, with every beat of my heart, with every blink of my eye, with every thought in my mind, I hate—forever. I'm too weak to stop it, to stop myself from doing what I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't, but I don't care. I rationalize it by comparing myself to the Boy. The Boy cared too much when he left home—cared that he would be separated from you—which culminated in atrocity. Thus, I need to not care anymore. I know it's a stupid rationalization, but stupid rationalizations are all I have—because I don't have you anymore. But it's not just you. It's everyone. It's all the friends whose dying screams were swallowed by fire; it's the home that crumbled under the weight of ashes; and it's the world that wept invisibly in horror.

Air teaches to look to the Truth as it is ultimate and pure, something nourishing and fulfilling in all areas, but I hate the Truth because the Truth is—you are dead, aren't you, Gyatso? You died 107 years ago, didn't you? You died when the rest of us did. I should have died with you. It's my biggest crime that I didn't. It's not letting the Attack happen in the first place or sleeping in the ocean for a century while the Great War consumed so many men. The fact that I didn't die with you and our race in our allotted time is what damns me forever—it's going to curse me to damnation, which I welcome. I deserve nothing less. I should have died screaming like you did; I should have held my own heart, dripping with my life's blood, in my hands before I died; I should have watched, powerless, as Sozin led his Imperial Firebenders through the temple, slaughtering, raping, and pillaging; I should have killed all the Imperial Firebenders I could like you did before I died; I should have seen all the corpses of our race around me, faces melted and bones blackened, and joined them, mind suffocating from the smoke and ashes until Death was left.

I'm sorry my love killed you, Gyatso. Maybe if I had hated you instead, you would still be alive. That's another rationalization I use for my hatred. My love killed anything good in the world. Thus, the only way to fix it is to hate, instead; the only way to preserve anything good in the world is to hate. I know you disagree, but it's all I can do. What else can I do? I feel no love, and I don't think I ever will again. I made friends in this evil place at first when I had nothing left. It was a desperate attempt to try to hold on while I needed to stop Ozai. But it was never real friendship because none of them but one understands friendship. A Water Tribesman and girl found me in the Iceberg and released me. They told me I was part of their family, but they forgot their vow and turned their backs on me after the War ended. My earthbending teacher liked me, but she forgot about me and went to do other things. The only friend I have besides my hatred, Appa, and Momo is an heir of Sozin. Only an heir of Sozin understands friendship and what it means. It's disgusting; it shouldn't be this way.

Why did this happen, Gyatso? Why can't you tell me? Why can't you look at me and say everything's going to be okay? Why can't you smile at me and show me your heart? I want to feel something real again. I'm sick of this place—this damned, evil time. It infuriates and maddens me equally. There's nothing real about it; it's all fake and sickening. I keep waiting to wake up from the nightmare, but the nightmare is all I know anymore, which makes me retch just thinking about it. I'm sick of living in this world; I would destroy it if I knew how. There's nothing redeeming about this gross place. The people in it are imposters and frauds, too stupid to understand anything. Zuko's the only good one, I've found—and I've met countless people here because of The Avatar. What do they know about Life and Death? What do they know about wisdom? What do they know about nature? What do they know about intelligence? What do they know about willpower? What do they know about grief? What do they know about loss? What do they know about spirituality? What do they know about meditation? What do they know about restraint and serenity? What do they know about ethics? What do they know about freedom? What do they know about truth? What do they know about anything but war?

I've seen them and talked to them, asking questions, and challenging all their idiocy, and it's clear to me—there's nothing good about them, Gyatso, not like there was with you and our race. I can't believe I saved this stupid world and these even stupider races. I guess I'm a bigger idiot than they are. But I didn't save the world for them. It was never about saving the world, not this world that is so disgusting and evil. No, it was about stopping Sozin, who lived on in Ozai—that was it. It was never anything more, least of all 'saving' these fools who couldn't save themselves and mock Air to my face when they think I'm not paying attention. The only people I would ever save are those at the Air Temples if I could, never anyone more—because no one else is worthy of it. It's all so clear. I realize that now. I didn't realize it then when I did it, but that's what my aim was, truly. I didn't stop Sozin a century earlier, so I stopped Sozin's descendant. But why didn't I kill him? I should have killed him. I didn't kill him because I thought it's what you would want, but that's wrong—it has to be wrong. You killed all those Imperial Firebenders, didn't you? I know you did. Do you know how easy it would be for me to fix my mistake, to walk into the Fire Nation and walk out carrying Ozai's head? Do you know how easy it would be for me to peel Ozai's flesh from his bones and make a blanket from it? Then it wouldn't only be my hatred keeping me warm and alive. No one could stop me, not even the combined armies of the world if it came down to it. I'd listen to no one but Zuko, but Zuko couldn't change my mind. The only thing that stops me is that I don't care; I don't care about Ozai because Ozai isn't who I want. I want Sozin. If it was Sozin locked in that secret dungeon beneath the palace, I would do it; I would leave to do it right now after finishing my letter to you.

You're disturbed by me, aren't you, Gyatso? You see me now and can't reconcile what you see with the Boy. You see what I've become, realize the truth of my secret, and know horror because of it. That's how I felt when I learned about The Avatar. This was always destined, wasn't it? You would tell me that everything that's happened has happened for many reasons, even if they're stupid, evil reasons. You would say that it's destined, wouldn't you? But I'm destined this because of it, right? The Avatar is destiny. I'm the greatest evil to walk the Realms—I know it. Because I'm The Avatar, who is evil to the core. How else do you explain all of this? How else do you explain how far I've fallen? If you were here, I'd ask you to kill me, and I'd trust you to go through with it—because I trust you more than anyone to ever walk this world.

I don't know why I wrote this letter, Gyatso. I've written previous letters to you over the years, but it's never been like this. I was always scared to write this one; I was always ashamed. But something's changed. I'm still ashamed, but I'm not scared anymore. But even more than that, I'm tired. I'm tired of pretending. I keep performing for everyone trying not to scare them because I'm scared of what would happen if I scare them. I play a role to please and soothe others, none of whom deserve it because they're all idiots. Why do I waste my time and energy with them? I'm sick of it! I didn't attend the last Great Gathering because of it.

The point is—I'm tired, Gyatso. I want to rest; I want to feel settled; I want to feel freedom and know peace; I want to have everything I once had when my memories were my life. I can't be real with anyone, not even Zuko, the only good one here, because Zuko doesn't understand. I have to keep at the stupid performance for all the stupid people around me in this damned, evil time. There's no one like you here. I wrote this because I wanted to be real with you; I wanted to be honest with you. But I failed, didn't I? I failed because you're not here to be anything with. You're gone, only a memory that exists in my compromised, broken, fading memories, and I'm just talking to myself and going more insane, aren't I?

I'm sorry, Gyatso, I really am. I keep saying it, but it's never going to be enough—because nothing's enough. There's nothing for me in this life. I should kill myself. No one would miss me. The people who missed me were the ones in the temples when Sozin launched the Attack. I want to see you again, and the only way to see you again is in the Gardens. I know you're there, but something's holding me back from joining you. My hatred isn't done yet. I still have things to do. But I'll see you soon—just not yet.

I love you, Gyatso. I'm yours forever.

Aang

"I meant every word then," he confessed, heavy but unsurprised. He knew the Aang who wrote the letter would never have conceived, least of all foreseen, everything that would come to pass.

He never imagined he would see Gyatso again, able to tell him everything he always wanted to—but he also never would have imagined he would have let him die.

When he wrote that letter, it was possibly his lowest point—because it made him desperate enough to seek his vacation to Ember Island months later. Right before he left for Ember Island after finding the true flight airbending scroll, he had started to get better—because he was so tired, for hatred was exhausting but fulfilling. But not even its fulfillment could overpower the exhaustion after so many years. Really, the only way he could get better for that short time was because he was ready for a change, epitomized by his eager willingness to make something out of nothing with Azula on Ember Island, which was only possible because he had reached a point where he was looking for something different—something other than the hatred that saved his life for so long.

But after Ba Sing Se and her nomination for Mother of Air, the hatred returned, and it was difficult to stop, though not as severe as before meeting Azula on that vacation..

If only Gyatso had been able to see him back then, but something told him, deep down, that Gyatso saw him at his most hateful and horrible—more than anyone ever has—and still loved him, still willing to teach him and guide him—because he knew the Boy was still in there.

How he loved Gyatso.

Azula nodded. "I know."

He wanted to make her understand; he felt desperate for her understanding, staring at her urgently, almost frantically. "It was true then, but it's not true now. My thoughts have changed. Well, some of my thoughts have changed. I'm always going to hate, but I understand it now—I accept it now."

"I know," she agreed and wrapped her fingers around the letter, which he let her take. "I love your hatred as it brought us together."

"It almost ripped us apart."

"But I still love it; I accept it; and I know it."

Blue flames consumed the letter.

"And Gyatso knew, too," he whispered, staring into the distance. "He knows."

"I know."

He glanced at her, confused, wondering how she could possibly know about Gyatso when she had no idea that he used the Tree to go back, but before he could ask, a small body dashed toward them, draped in Air's colors, too.

"Aang!"

Samir crashed into his legs, almost making him lose his balance. "Hi, Samir- "

"Aang!" she squealed in delight, grinning up at him in awe, and he was surprised that she didn't feel disgusted by his physical state. "You're back! You're awake! You're okay! I missed you!"

He tried to keep up with the onslaught but laughed instead, feeling his spirits lighten. "I missed you, too."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," he assured and picked her up, gazing at Air's colors around her. "I'm sorry it's been so long."

Samir giggled and suddenly latched onto him in a fierce hug, tiny arms squeezing his neck. "It's okay, Aang," she said. "Mommy said you went wandering, and Air Nomads go wandering."

Aang stiffened at the obvious declaration of Samir referring to Azula as her mother, shocked. He knew it was true, but it was another thing to hear it; it was another thing to feel how right it was, how much he wanted to hear Samir say it again and see Azula offer no criticism or correction.

Azula accepted Samir as her daughter.

He patted Samir's back, rubbing gently, vaguely recognizing that he was mimicking Gyatso's actions to him. "I did, and I found what I was looking for."

"What was it?"

"The truth," he replied, glancing at Azula over Samir's shoulder; she watched them with an expression that he could not decipher. It almost seemed like amusement, but he knew it wasn't amusement. "I see things now. I'm sorry that I haven't been the mentor that I should be; I'm sorry that I was mean to you and judgmental; and I'm sorry that I demanded perfection."

Samir pulled back hesitantly, misting gray eyes locking onto his face, roaming, looking for a sign of deceit or cruelty; she looked vulnerable. "Really?" she whispered, voice breaking.

Aang squeezed her tighter and nodded. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn't want you; I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you aren't an Air Nomad." He tapped her chest, holding her watering, awed gaze. "You are an Air Nomad, Samir; you're a real Airbender, and I'm so happy that you are one. I love that you are one, and I want to get to know you more. I'm going to teach you everything I know, including the truth of Air that only two people in the world know."

She blinked. "You and Appa?"

He paused for a moment before shaking his head. "No," he said, spacing the word as he glanced at Azula. "Your mother and I, actually."

Samir sniffed, tiny fingers gripping his thin shoulders. "Really?"

Aang nodded. "You're an Airbender, Samir. You're the realest one I've ever met besides Gyatso. I want you to be an Airbender, and I want you to progress as you can progress. I'm sorry that I held cruel expectations."

Samir hugged him again, placing her face against his neck. "I forgive you," she whispered.

He rubbed a hand across her head. "Thank you. You're a true Air Nomad. You understand forgiveness and what it means. I have a lot to learn from you. But I want to know if you've done anything fun while I was gone."

Suddenly, she scrambled down him, nodding eagerly. "Yes. I was practicing!"

Aang perked up. "Really? Show me."

Samir swallowed before adorable determination swept over her face, concentrated in her wonderful gray eyes. She reached out and moved her arms, feet positioned in a strange way; each swipe of her arms was not identical, some faster and some slower, but Aang felt it instantly when it happened after several long, long moments. The air began to sway, not connected to him but Samir—the first time he ever remembered something like it happening since the Iceberg.

After several moments, she stopped and looked up at him expectantly, eyes wide. "See, Aang? Do you see? Did you see me do it? I did a trick!"

It was weak and feeble, unbelievably pathetic compared to anything he had ever accomplished many years younger than her, even surely as an infant based on what Gyatso had described, but he smiled with tears in his eyes, seeing the undeniable beauty—the gift before him, for he was no longer alone. "I see, Samir," he confirmed and reached out, hauled her into his arms, holding her under arms, palms pressed against her sides. "You're an Airbender!"

He threw Samir high into the sky with a flourish of airbending with a vivid laugh; he watched her sail into the clouds and leaped after her, following the wonderful sound of Samir's shrieks and laughs of delight. He flew closer, walking on the winds, and grabbed her, and she waved wildly at him. "Hi, Aang!"

Aang twisted around, holding her beneath him, both hands gripped on the sides of her stomach, but he did nothing else, flying forward. He watched Samir's hair billow back as her arms and legs extended in amazement, stretching as far as she could stretch; she clearly believed that she was flying.

"I'm flying!" she screamed in happiness, overwhelmed. "Aang, look! I'm flying!"

"You're an Airbender, Samir," he responded, making sure she heard his words, which he funneled into her ears. "This is your inheritance. You're one of us—forever."

He delighted in flying around with Samir, cherishing their shared inheritance for a long time, but he felt his energy fade quickly—his body was still recovering. Unfortunately, he needed to end their flight.

When he landed, Azula stared at him in wonder. "You mastered your chakras," she whispered, stunned.

Aang grinned. "I did."

Samir scrambled forward and tugged at Azula's hand. "Mommy! I flew! Did you see me?"

Azula blinked before finally looking at Samir with a smirk. "You were going so fast all I saw was a blur."

"Really?"

"Yes. You are an Airbender, Samir."

Suddenly, an overwhelming urgency flashed over Samir's face, almost seeming to jump in place. "Can I ask him?"

Aang frowned, confused. "Ask me what?"

However, it was clear that Azula knew exactly what Samir alluded to, for she shook her head with a patient look. "Not yet. He still needs to heal."

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

Before Azula or Samir could respond, the others began to join them, walking out of the forest and into the clearing. Samir immediately ran to Ursa with a chirped greeting of 'Grandma,' to which Ursa smiled and opened her arms for a hug, which Samir gave gladly.

Aang pulled his eyes away and stared back at the others, looking for a sign that something had changed in any of them, but beyond the clear mastered chakras for Katara and Toph, nothing was different. Even Mai and Ty Lee looked the same, and based on the way they directed their focus differently, Azula already had a conversation with them. But everything was the same, which didn't surprise him.

The truth was—he was the one who was different.

"Sparky told us you're awake," Toph greeted, coming forward and punching his arm—no less gently than usual.

She probably did it harder than usual, actually.

Zuko rolled his eyes while Aang rubbed his arm; the punch stung, particularly in his compromised state. "I said he's still recovering so we should be gentle."

Toph scoffed. "It's like you don't even know me."

Aang punched Toph's arm in return with a grin, surprising her as she winced from the force he applied. "Good to feel you, too, Toph," he responded, trying not to laugh.

She grit her teeth and massaged her arm where he had punched her. "You feel strong for as thin as you are," she said begrudgingly.

"I know."

Toph glared. "You may think you can fool the others with this skinniness act, but I won't be taking it easy on you. I expect a rematch as soon as possible. My mastered chakras are going to kick your ass."

He dimly noticed that Ursa had covered Samir's ears prior to 'ass,' but he nodded, deigning not to tell her that he had mastered his chakras, as well, expanding the vast divide between them. "It's going to be the same conclusion as last time."

"We'll see about that."

"Don't you mean feel?"

Toph smirked and punched his arm gently, almost like a fond tap. "Good to have you back, Twinkletoes. But be prepared for you to be beat so bad that Sugar Queen's going to have to heal you for days."

Katara shook her head instantly. "No, it won't be that bad, Toph."

"Whatever."

Aang looked at Katara. "It's good to see you," he offered, feeling awkward. He had a lot of things to say to her but didn't know how to begin.

Katara tried to smile, but her eyes were locked onto his emaciated chest. "I'm sorry. I tried to heal you- "

Aang shook his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who should apologize."

She blinked in surprise. "For what?"

Sokka rolled his eyes. "For running off again like a jerk, he means. I'm starting to think he's the Jerkbender instead of Zuko."

Zuko glared at Sokka. "You're about to see how much of a jerk I can be if you keep it up."

"What's gotten into you?"

"Your stupid advice."

"What stupid advice?" Sokka demanding, rounding on Zuko. "My advice is awesome! You should be licking my boots to hear my advice!"

"I should be sticking your boots up your ass!"

Aang ignored them, approached Katara, seeing the confusion on her face, and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling her stiffen in surprise against him. "I made you my mother and never asked if you wanted to be—I'm sorry. I'm sorry I blamed you instead of analyzing myself. I haven't made good decisions."

Katara embraced him back. "There's nothing to forgive. I forgave you a long time ago."

"Still, I'm sorry. I placed so many expectations on you, and you took it. You're so emotionally intelligent, but because of it, because you were the only one who realized your role in it, you put all the blame on yourself—when only some of it was. I'm taking responsibility now. I should have written you; I should have visited you; I should have made an effort rather than expecting everything to be done by you. I'm sorry, Katara. I treated you as my mother when you were only ever my friend, as you should be. You're my friend, and I want to be a better friend to you."

"I'm sorry, too, Aang," Katara whispered, voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I've never understood anything. I'm sorry I made it seem like I did."

Aang squeezed her briefly before pulling away, seeing the tears in her eyes reflected in his own. "We can start over now," he offered. "I'm Aang, and you're Katara—that's it. We can be friends as we should be."

She smiled, lips trembling. "I'd like that."

Sokka began to applaud mockingly. "About time! I could have told you this years ago!"

Aang glanced at him with a brief laugh. "It's good to see you, too, Sokka."

"Nope! You don't get to do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're a son of a bitch!" Sokka exclaimed, pointing at him with a rigid finger. Aang saw Ursa covering Samir's ears, and she wisely kept them covered. "That's exactly what you are!"

He nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry that I left- "

"Well, there's that, but that's not what I'm talking about! Look at your beard! What the fuck? It looks great! I mean, it looked like something died in it when you came back, but now it looks great; it looks magnificent. Fuck you! Why do you get to grow a beard while I can't?" Sokka pulled at the sparse hairs under his chin, frustrated. "Look at me! Now look at you and Zuko! You guys look amazing, and it's polardog shit! Why can two assholes like you grow beards while a good guy like me can't?"

Toph snorted. "Not sure I'd call you a 'good guy,' Snoozles."

Sokka glared at him, indignant. "The point is—how can there be such an injustice in the world?"

Aang laughed, unable to help himself. "Alright, Sokka. How can I make it up to you?"

Sokka grumbled under his breath before pulling several maps from his belt. "If you can tell me what these are about, I'll let it all go. This has been driving me insane."

Suki nodded in agreement. "It truly has."

Aang grabbed the maps and recognized the landmarks immediately. His eyes roamed the other maps, and it was confirmed. "It's the Immortal Realm."

Sokka blinked. "What?"

"The maps are maps of the Immortal Realm—a small fraction of the Immortal Realm."

Sokka sagged, but his face twisted in ire. "Son of a bitch! Why didn't I think of that? I went out of my mind thinking about it, and the answer was so fucking obvious, especially with spirits like Agni and Devi!"

Aang felt sympathy, surprising himself. "You didn't think of it because you've never been to the Immortal Realm consciously."

Sokka glared at Azula. "But she has! Why didn't she think of it? Or recognize it?"

He shook his head. "Because she's not me."

Azula frowned. "But why did Father have maps of the Immortal Realm? That is what is most pressing and worrisome."

Aang didn't answer for several moments as he analyzed the maps and saw certain areas emphasized with scribbles or others left alone. "Vaatu knows all of this like the back of his hand; he doesn't need maps." He stiffened when he realized the area of the Immortal Realm the maps reflected based on the enormous tree and a familiar battlefield—the Tree of Time. "This isn't Vaatu's map," he breathed. "I think this was Agni and Devi's map. Agni must have drawn all of these based on his memory of going to the Tree of Time, lured by Vaatu. The Great Spirits are terrified of this place. That's why Agni drew the map—to prepare himself."

Zuko shuddered. "I held something drawn by Agni himself?"

Aang nodded. "I think so."

Azula scoffed. "What is the big deal, Zuzu? It is said Agni carved the Dragon's Throne for Kai."

"That's different," Zuko dismissed. "That's a legend while this is real."

"Legends are real."

"But this is literally instead of literary. Agni drew those maps."

"But why the maps?" Katara asked, worried. "Why would Agni draw the map to begin with? You said to prepare himself, but what does he have to prepare himself for?"

Aang's eyes fluttered shut. "I think he and Devi were trying to narrow down where they thought Indra could be. This place terrifies the Great Spirits, and the Great Spirits avoid it like it's Death. But what better place for Indra to hide than in a place that terrifies not only herself but her siblings, some of whom search for her? It's clever."

"Is she there- "

"No," he answered immediately. "She's here in the Mortal Realm. That's how she saved Samir in Ba Sing Se. And if she was near the Tree of Time, I would know."

He would have noticed; he had to have noticed.

Sokka frowned. "But what are the symbols around the Tree of Time? Wait. And what is the Tree of Time?"

Aang looked where Sokka pointed and sighed. "It's Light and Darkness. And the Tree is the first spirit; It created the Immortal Realm."

Azula shut her eyes briefly. "I should have suspected it was the Tree."

"But there's no chance they can get to Indra?" Suki asked, watching him.

He shook his head. "If they're looking at the Immortal Realm, which I understand why—there are many more places to hide there—they won't find her. She's here, somewhere."

"That's probably what they've been doing while you've been gone," Toph said softly.

Aang hesitated. "It would have taken them a long time to reform their bodies. I honestly don't know how long. I think they are reformed by now, but I'm not sure. But you're right—Vaatu and Ozai have had too much time to act freely. That ends now. We're going to leave in the coming days after I recover a little more."

"Speaking of that, could you go put a shirt on?" Sokka asked, shaking his head. "You look like you're about to keel over."

He nodded, understanding. "I will. Then I'm going to eat, and we can discuss the plan. I have several ideas."

Katara clapped her hands. "Perfect. I'll make a big breakfast for everyone to celebrate the fact that you're back. We have enough supplies."

Zuko glanced at Katara. "I'll help you- "

"No," she said quickly—way too quickly. And Aang knew why based on his conversation with Zuko earlier, though it was clear he was not alone—it seemed that everyone knew by the looks on their faces. Mai was the only one who looked gladdened by it while the rest looked saddened.

Well, Samir just looked confused, not understanding the nuances of what was going on, and Toph looked irritated.

"Why?" Zuko demanded, brows pinching; his intense gaze rooted on Katara.

Katara blinked rapidly for several moments before she shook her head. "What does the Fire Lord know about making breakfast? You don't know anything about it. I need help from someone who knows and you don't- "

"I'll help," Suki interrupted, sharing a glance with Katara.

"I will, as well," Mai said.

Zuko glared at Mai, seeming betrayed, but Mai only glared back while Ty Lee hesitantly nodded. "Me too."

"We became skilled at making food during our banishments," Mai added.

Zuko said nothing, looking away, and Sokka cleared his throat. "Let's get to it! Whoever makes my food first is getting a huge kiss! Suki, you better come through for me."

Suki rolled her eyes but then kissed Sokka a little too long for it to be considered quick. "Does that work?" she asked innocently when she pulled back.

Sokka nodded after a surprised moment. "Works a little too well," he muttered as he grabbed Suki and adjusted her to stand in front of him in perfect positioning, shielding everyone from what was obviously the 'worked up' evidence. "Stand here for a minute."

Aang laughed and went to grab his shirt.

The breakfast wasn't awkward; he actually enjoyed it, able to express himself without hatred or fury. He interacted with everyone, speaking freely and honestly; he no longer felt like he was performing—as he had for years. He felt like himself in their presences for the first time since he had ever known them, able to laugh and smile without thinking of what his actions conveyed or if he was letting the performance crack at all.

There was no longer a performance.

"Tell it to us, Mr. Avatar," Sokka said, waving his chicken leg, which was, according to Sokka, a fine delicacy for breakfast. Apparently, Suki had to convince Katara to cook it. "Where are we going? We've been here way too long; we gotta move."

Aang nodded, watching Samir for a moment as she played off to the side with Momo, chasing him around. "I agree."

"You're not just saying that?"

"It's time to get to work," he replied.

Sokka sagged. "Finally. I've been going insane with all this being-stuck-at-an-impasse."

Toph rolled her eyes. "We know."

"We don't know where Vaatu or Ozai are, but we do know that they are together," Aang began, spacing his words so the others could comprehend his conceptions. "That reduces where they are. But I don't want to hunt them down, not now; I don't think that will work."

Azula nodded. "We must be prudent. While you were gone, we discussed heading back to Ba Sing Se. Do you want to go there?"

Aang hesitated, images flashing through his mind in a sobering blur. "I don't think I should be there. No one will want me there."

"Considering what you did to the place last time, that may be necessary," Sokka said, frowning. "I don't know why I didn't think of that."

Toph smiled tightly. "Because you weren't there."

"But if you thought it, why didn't you bring it up?"

"I was waiting on Twinkletoes; I was going to follow his lead."

Aang sighed and didn't feel as hungry, though he forced himself to eat to help his body recover; he also took a long drink, feeling everyone's eyes on him. "Let's think about somewhere else first," he said at last. "I know why Ba Sing Se is an appealing option- "

"And King Bumi rebuilt it," Zuko interrupted, catching his gaze. It felt like the first he had seen Zuko's eyes anywhere but in Katara's direction. "He's Ba Sing Se's king as far as I know now."

He hesitated before shaking his head. "If it's the last option, we'll go there. Where else can we go? Any suggestions?"

"We must build allies," Azula said immediately, and he still had difficulty looking away from the allure she presented wearing Air's garbs. Thankfully, no one had asked any questions, though Sokka had looked at Azula strangely several times. "This is a war of allies; this is a collective war, not a singular war. Whoever's allies are better wins. Our allies' capacity must surpass Vaatu's allies' capacity."

"But with Vaatu having Agni and Devi, two Elementals, on his side, our possible meaningful allies dwindle," Ursa pointed out, clasping her hands together. "This is a journey of recruitment. I assure you that Ozai has already begun raising an army."

"With my ex-nobles leading the recruitment," Zuko muttered, face twisting in ire and disgust. "I would tell you that Fire will follow you, but I'm not sure. So many have already betrayed us for Father, it wouldn't surprise me if there are more."

Azula's brow rose. "But who remains? All the most important figures in the Fire Nation have already left for the continent, disavowing you and Aang. The Fire Sages and Noble Houses were powerful additions, but I already concluded the Fire Sages' treachery."

Zuko looked surly. "The rest of the Nobles Houses could follow, and there may be a few disgraced military commanders who jump at the chance for retribution against me, sponsored by a significant power in Vaatu, combined with the familiarity of working for Father. The rest of Fire will follow us, but those powerful influences may not."

"But aren't the rest of the Noble Houses weak?" Suki asked, brows furrowed. "Could they make a difference?"

"They are minor, not weak," Zuko corrected immediately. "There is always a difference that can be made. I trust Uncle to keep them in line, but we have to prepare for the inverse. Father must have supporters everywhere in the world by now. We need to be careful. And if not Father, Vaatu has supporters; he has been busy while we languished here."

"What about the Sun Warriors?" Aang asked, looking at Zuko. "Have you been in contact with them?"

"Not in several years."

Azula's brows rose. "Sun Warriors?"

"The last Sun Warrior Tribe. They somehow weren't part of the Unification. They have lived separated from the rest of Fire for countless generations."

"And there live the last two dragons, Ran and Shaw," Aang added, watching Azula, wanting to see her reaction.

Azula's eyes widened. "Dragons? Two dragons escaped Sozin's sport? Uncle lied?"

"We met them," Zuko answered with a slight smirk. "The Original Masters. They are beautiful."

A look of envy flashed over Azula's face before it cleared. "It relieves me that the Sun Warriors did not suffer from famines."

Aang frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Zuko sighed. "It's why the dragons were hunted. There were too many famines, provoked by the dragons, who raided and stole food from villages, destroying whatever crops we can grow on our islands. Our soil isn't as fertile as that of the continent's and because of that, so many were starving. As you all know, the Fire Nation is made of a series of large volcanoes. The villages nearest to the active volcanoes were often dead within a year when famines struck. The dragons hunted down animals meant to feed the towns and destroyed their fields for mating grounds. Dragon-hunting began because Fire was under threat of dying. Over time, it slowly turned into a sport to achieve personal glory, but it never started because of Sozin's greed; its nature was never cruelty or apathy but desperation. We were desperate. It destroyed us to hunt the dragons, who were holy to our race, pillars of strength we measured ourselves against. But because of the Great War, it had to be done if we were to survive. It would have never happened if not for the Great War."

Sokka frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "What does that mean? What does the Great War have to do with it?"

"You can't afford a famine during a war," Zuko said shortly, only brow raised. "The signs were there that we would have another famine about fifteen years into the War, and we knew we would lose, dying of starvation, unable to fight or fend off an invasion, if the famine happened. It was starting; villages were wiped out. It would be a catastrophe. It's said that Sozin's heart broke forever that day when he was forced to order the hunting, but it was the only solution. He saved us again from dying of starvation."

"How did Ran and Shaw survive?" Azula asked.

"I don't see how they could have survived," Ty Lee pointed out but quelled under Azula's glare. However, she surprisingly kept speaking. "Sozin had Azar with him; they were the unstoppable pair who slew all of the dragons."

"There are still stories of Azar in the Noble Houses," Mai commented. "They are often used to get children to behave in fear of Azar rising from the ashes of the world to eat them. It worked on me when I was young."

"We know that!" Azula snapped, face too calm. "What I want- "

"Actually, we didn't know that," Sokka corrected. "That's quite interesting."

Azula inhaled slowly. "How did Ran and Shaw survive, Zuko?"

"We don't know," Aang answered. "But they showed us the true meaning of firebending; it was an ancient secret that they shared with us. They trusted us."

"We may not want to bring them into this," Zuko said slowly, face twisting. "They have survived so far, but they may not going forward. They're not a mated pair, remember? They're both females, unrelated, and the Sun Warriors say that neither was ever bonded."

Aang's head fell in dismay. "Then the dragons will become extinct, too," he murmured. "It will be just like the sky bison and winged-lemurs."

"That's why I'm hesitant to write, asking for their assistance."

"They would be good allies," he decided after several moments. "We need allies right now—that's what matters. If I have to, once all this is over, I'll speak to Agni about more dragons."

He would do the same with Indra and the sky bison.

Sokka's brows rose. "I doubt he'd want to talk to you after what you did last time."

Aang's gaze darkened. "I'll threaten him with having to reform again. The point is—we need allies, and they would ally with us, surely."

Zuko nodded in agreement. "I'll send a letter at our next location."

Toph snorted. "We have to turn to dragons because humans won't be our friends. What a time to be alive."

Katara looked pained. "Is there anyone who will follow The Avatar right now?"

Aang shook his head, heavy. "I doubt it."

"Which is why we must work on securing alliances and re-earning trust," Azula pointed out. "We can take nothing for granted."

"Earth won't join, even though we freed them from Fire," Toph mumbled, though the look on her face was fierce. "Ba Sing Se made it clear. The nobility everywhere is probably more allied with Vaatu than not—it's how it was in Ba Sing Se. The only nobility I trust not to be with Vaatu is Bumi—oh, and Sparky and Lightning Psycho and the non-benders over there."

Sokka gasped. "What about me? I'm a noble—and Suki. And so's Katara!"

"And Snoozles, Sugar Queen, and Fangirl," Toph added flippantly. "Everyone else, I have doubts."

"There is so much hatred," Katara whispered, shaking her head, looking overwhelmed. "I know why, but why can no one see that this isn't a solution?"

Aang closed his eyes, thinking of Gyatso. "This has been how the world has been for a very long time. It started during Kuruk's reign and culminates now. But this will be the last age it happens. When my age is done, so too is this imbalanced hatred."

Azula nodded firmly. "Well said. We already decided to stay on the continent, ruling out returning to the Fire Nation or going to the North or South- "

Sokka glanced at him, face urgent. "What if one of us—or a couple, like me, Suki, and Katara—goes to the North to stabilize it, to prevent Hahn from ruining everything?"

Aang stared at him, confused. "What? I know you don't like Hahn, but he- "

Azula placed a hand on his arm. "You are missing information."

"What information."

"I met the Sage of Water while I was in limbo."

Aang blinked. "Karluk was killed?"

"Murdered," Azula clarified. "He was not the only one, for all his masters, warriors, and apprentices were slain, as well. But before their murders, there were other murders he was investigating—many of the North's leading noblemen, specifically the nobles who supported Sokka, were murdered, bodies drained of their bending energies by a boy who had the appearance of a Child of Fire. Karluk said that Nobleman Hahn is to blame."

The words floated in the air, mocking him, and he shook his head. "What do you mean, the bending energies were 'drained' from their bodies?"

"Karluk said that he could not sense any of the bending energies, which are still there after death; there was only a void. These were once powerful Waterbenders, but they were no more, misidentified as non-benders."

Zuko looked solemn. "This is the second notification we've received about something like this."

Aang felt a piercing pain throb in his skull, causing him to rub his forehead in a vain effort to soothe it. "What was the first?"

"After Ba Sing Se, King Bumi sent a letter to Uncle, notifying him that one of his masters found a trail of bodies of Order members, all former benders that were drained of their bending energies, but all the murders happened before Ba Sing Se."

He glanced at Azula. "How long ago was Karluk murdered?"

Azula's face tightened. "I cannot say, but we believe that these murders all happened around the same time during Kuei's declaration of war against Fire, actions hidden behind a shroud of secrecy."

Aang closed his eyes, feeling guilty that during his vacation, so much had happened, which he was unaware of. "And this 'boy' did it, who looked like a Child of Fire?"

"According to Karluk," Azula confirmed.

"We think this is why Arnook never joined Kuei in declaring war," Zuko added. "We've already talked about it. These murders stayed his hand because he wanted to get to the bottom of it and discover the truth. These are unnatural murders."

"All murder is unnatural," Katara muttered, crossing her arms under her breasts.

Zuko glanced at her, hesitating for a moment before looking back at him. "Arnook clearly didn't know about the murders because he never joined Kuei in declaring war. He thought it was more important to investigate the murders and uncover the truth. Many of his leading noblemen were murdered—it was cause for massive concern."

Aang shook his head, trying to concentrate. "Who is the 'boy,' Azula? Did Karluk say?"

Azula sighed. "No, and I did not think to ask more. I thought I was dead, unconcerned by mortal affairs anymore. Karluk did not even give me a name, for he dismissed the name he knew the 'boy' by as an obvious alias."

"It's energybending," he said after several moments. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

"But you didn't drain the Loser Lord's life from him," Toph pointed out. "His body still had all the bending energies, didn't it? Lightning Psycho said these noblemen's bodies were drained of their lives by the 'boy."

"When Karluk confronted Hahn and the 'boy,' discerning the source, the 'boy' attacked," Azula explained. "He killed everyone but Karluk by draining their lives away, seeming to absorb it all somehow. Karluk was spared because he was a 'master,' immune to the damage. That is all I know."

Aang leaned forward, bracing his head in his hands for several moments, thinking rapidly before groaning. "I don't know. I need to think on it more. I can't give anything definitive right now."

Sokka looked urgent. "See? And Hahn is behind it; he was working with this 'boy,' according to Karluk. Hahn's going to try to undermine my position. Several of us—or just me—need to go to the North to keep things in line. Or you could go and straighten it all out."

He shook his head instantly. "No. If I do that, I'll lead Vaatu directly to the Ocean and Moon."

"Then just I'll go- "

"No, we can't risk that," he interrupted, adamant. "Vaatu doesn't know where the Ocean and Moon are. If he did, he would have already secured them as allies. We leave the North alone for now and focus on the continent."

"But the only way to make headway is by going to one of the Major Cities," Azula pointed out. "We must either go to Omashu, Chyung, Zaofu, or Ba Sing Se. We need a King of Earth who will ally with us, bridging the vast divide between us and the other Kings of Earth."

Toph snorted, looking grim. "And I'll tell you right now, Twinkletoes, that Chyung and Zaofu won't go anywhere near you."

"Ba Sing Se it is," he whispered, feeling a pressure in his chest. "I only trust Bumi to help."

Zuko's face twisted. "No, the more I'm thinking about it, the more it won't work. People would attack on sight if The Avatar returned to Ba Sing Se; they would see it as sacrilegious and unholy. King Bumi may want him there, but if word gets out that The Avatar's in Ba Sing Se, there will be riots; it will be pandemonium, and we'll have to restore order."

"And that includes just a sighting of The Avatar's sky bison," Sokka added, downcast. "That means we can't just fly in and land at the palace and go inside. People will see us. It will create a whirlwind of gossip and rumors, which we don't want. It could get back to Ozai for all we know; he could have spies or something."

"Assume he does," Ursa said quickly.

Suki nodded. "We need King Bumi's help to get Aang into Ba Sing Se unseen. But that means one of us will have to convince him. It has to be someone who would cause no suspicion showing up in Ba Sing Se, which rules out definitively Zuko, Azula, Ursa, Mai, and Ty Lee. Sokka, Katara, Toph, or I will have to do it."

Aang closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. "This is ridiculous. We just won't go to Ba Sing Se. We'll figure something out."

If it sounded like he was begging, it was because he was begging.

Azula's eyes crinkled, but she shook her head. "We need to go there, Aang," she said in a whisper. "It is the only way to start earning everyone's trust again."

"But who's going to go?" Katara asked, looking between herself and Sokka. "We don't really know Bumi- "

Toph's face twisted before she shuddered. "I'll do it. I'll talk to him. I'll walk right in, and no one's heart will jump or anything. It needs to be me. I know Bumi and his heirs."

By the look on her face, she dreaded see Bumi and his heirs again, which was peculiar, but Aang had greater things to worry about.

"Just tell him that I want to see him, regardless," he said softly. "He'll get us in. It's time to move forward—no more hiding; no more games. This matters; it all matters. This has been going on for so long. All families across the world, extending into the mists of forgotten names, have suffered under this for too long. The world has been like this for so long it seems normal, but it's not normal; it's wrong, and I know it's wrong—I feel it. But it won't be that way forever; this flame will die, and we're not going to choke on the smoke. No matter what happens, no matter the decisions we make, no matter the paths we walk, we're going to change the world forever. This has been an impending collision for generations, and I'm ready to collide; I'm ready for it to be over. The world is ready for the collision; it's been primed for it, screaming silently for a thousand years, and it's cries have gone unheard—until now. And we're going to respond; we're going to act. This has many sources and origins, which have sources and origins of their own, but we're going to do the work and heal the world, doing everything we must and comprehending everything we must comprehend; we're going to cleanse it of this maddening imbalance besmirched in chaos and instability. We're the only ones who can do it, and I believe we will—I know we will. I trust all of you, believe in your capacities, and know that it will be by your help and diligence that this ends forever. There will be resolution, and we will facilitate it. Vaatu and Ozai will do everything in their power to stop it. They will blacken the skies, evaporate the oceans, destroy the lands, and scream until the world dies if they have to, but we will stop them; we will win—it's assured."

Azula smirked. "No wonder you won the Great War."

"Where were you?" Katara asked, amazed, staring at him like he was a miracle; by the awed look on Katara's face, he knew that she felt like she was recognizing him for the first time. "Where did you go while you were gone?"

"I went home," he said vaguely, unable to bring himself to describe everything to them. He would one day, but that day wouldn't be today—it would be days long from now when he felt stable enough to tell them and bear all their questions.

The only one he planned on telling fully was Azula for now.

Sokka blinked. "You went to the Southern Air Temple?"

Aang nodded. "Yes."

Azula glanced at him with an unreadable look on her face but said nothing. He knew why—Azula and Samir had actually gone to the Southern Temple and not seen him. But it had been the wrong year—the wrong age.

"That makes sense," Suki commented. "I wondered if you went there."

"It's the most obvious place," Toph agreed. "But why did your body disappear like it did? Sparky screamed like a girl when it happened."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "I didn't. That was Sokka."

Sokka's eyes bulged. "No, it wasn't! Take that back!"

Aang exhaled a brief laugh, thinking furiously about an answer that would seem feasible to their unaware minds. "It was my mastered chakras," he said quickly. "I mastered them, which allowed me to do it."

"But why were you gone for so long?" Katara asked, concerned.

"I was looking for answers," Aang replied. "I found them. I'm sorry it took so long."

"That's okay," she assured, smiling at him, and he found himself able to smile back for the first time in a long time.

Samir dashed into the large circle and crashed into his chest, making him grunt; she adjusted herself so she was sitting in his lap, leaning back against him, spent, face red with exertion. "I wanna hear a song."

Azula's brow rose. "Are you tired?"

"No, that's why I said a song."

"I know a song, Samir," Ursa offered suddenly with a kind smile.

"Really, Grandma?" Samir asked.

Ursa nodded with surprise on her face before it cleared, clearly getting use to her new title. "Of course. It is beautiful and riveting; it is Fire. I used to sing it to your mother and uncle a long time ago. It is Sozin's song."

All eyes swung to him, but Aang only hummed; he would have once barred any song of Sozin being sung, but things were different. "I'm curious," he said instead. "Sing it."

"Very well," Ursa said, clearing her throat. "Here it is:

In old days, the world was dark, cruel, and cold
With ages of our prosperity sold
To tyrants branding evil, serving chains,
Marring Fire's honor forever with stains.
The burden endured for generations
With Fire enslaved to another nation.
No one could fight against it—no one dared
Until there was born a Fire Lord who cared.

Houka bent his knee and died 'neath our feet,
Crushed under our grief—his death did he meet.
Fire Lords respected his pledge to the skies
When they should have burned with ire from the lies.
We were enslaved for rising in a stand
Against foes who raped our race and land.
Houka's crime was never his vast attack;
It was his yield; he turned on us his back.

They came down from Heaven with searing chains,
Inflicting on us the most wicked pains.
Men, women, and children's lives were ended
By the hypocrites who were offended
We replied, to which they demanded charge
For their ills when they were guilty at large.
We trusted our Fire Lord like a new bride
But Houka betrayed our race and complied.

Zyrn did nothing, tied to our enslavers;
Ehktol only robbed us to pay the favors.
Elsine died too young to make a change
While Ojas did not think the tributes strange.
Henjul took the throne and tried to discuss
With them the levies extinguishing us.
They despised his noble attempts for peace
And vowed the recompense would never cease.

Henjul died, leaving Rylun as his heir;
Rylun was busy with the heir-less scare.
Akemi never had the strength to lead;
Kazuki was distressed by his weak seed.
Kohaku promised to end our kneeling
To make way for a redeeming healing,
But it was not him who secured our cure.
It was Sozin, whose light was warm and pure.

Let Fire say his name for all our ages!
May his accomplishments fill Life's pages!
Never has a man with such honor reigned!
He conquered our foes—by Agni ordained!
He recognized all of us by our names,
Calling us Agni's unique, matchless flames!
He thought of us with every endeavor!
He loved, worked, and fought for us forever!

Sozin walked the world while all others crawled;
He dared fight those tyrants with their heads bald.
He was like Agni himself with his grace;
He is foremost always amongst Fire's race.
His reign was renowned; his length of rule, long.
He fought long as possible, right and strong.
Men try but fail to fight their last affair;
But Death claimed him, 'sleep, scared to face him 'ware.

We await his return for all our days
Where he will rise again like Agni's rays,
Freeing him to finish what he began,
For he will ensure triumph as Fire's man.
We look to Agni and offer our prayers,
Thanking him for giving us a Fire Lord who cares.
We beg him to search his kingdom for him
And free him to save us in our days grim.

Earth and Water celebrate with him gone,
Knowing we are in the dusk, not the dawn.
What triumph is there without you, my lord,
When the world encircles us with a horde?
The world, again, is most dark, cruel, and cold,
But we know to follow your standard, bold.
If you see us again, it is enough.
If we see you again, it is enough."

Silence.

Aang looked around at everyone's faces, realizing and knowing that none of them actually understood the song; the meaning had been lost, too vague and subtle for them to comprehend the allusions. It was a song about Sozin breaking Air's enslavement over Fire for Houka's crime, for which he would have once screamed obscenities, dismissing it as all cruel, self-justifying lies.

But he knew the truth—it was true.

"I like that song, Grandma," Samir chirped, wiggling in his lap. "It rhymed!"

"A nice song," Katara said softly. "It says a lot."

Azula nodded. "It tells Sozin's story through Fire's eyes, how it was a blessing after centuries of torment. He was beloved deeply."

Sokka looked down at his hands, bitter and somber in equal measure. "I guess so. Fire really loved Sozin, didn't they?"

"They will never not love him," Zuko replied, taking a long drink. "We have no idea what Houka's 'attack' was that the song alludes to. But we know his crime, or what everyone thinks is his crime, in siring his heir by one of Air's nuns- "

"That kind of connection's happened before?" Sokka asked, waving a vague hand at Aang and Azula. "You mean, it's not just a one-off?"

"No. Houka's connection with that nun produced a half-spawn to sit on the Dragon's Throne—legend says that this half-spawn, Fire Lord Zyrn, was an Airbender. Our race killed him for it."

Aang was silent as Azula hummed. "That has never been a satisfactory explanation to me. I think it is more complex."

"As all things are," Ursa commended. "But whatever happened, Sozin redeemed us of it; he redeemed Fire and fulfilled our ancient promises to Agni. It is not my song at all. It was written after Sozin died, for Fire was in a state of mourning for a long time—many years. The war efforts suffered because of it. Nobody knows the poet, but everyone knows that it was sung one day in the streets of the Caldera and spread like fire itself. It reached Azulon's ears, and he ordered the song to be printed and copied for all to have access to it. He himself told me about it; he said that in spite of his tumultuous relationship with his father, he adored him most profoundly."

Zuko's sudden laugh startled Aang, and he glanced at him, glimpsing his amused and saddened features as he shared a glance with Azula. "The curse of Fire's royal bloodline—a son forever chasing his father's love."

"And daughters," Azula added, voice quiet. "I chased Father's love as much as you did."

"It's never going to happen again," Zuko said with a harsh insistence in his voice; he looked nowhere and everywhere. "I swear it."

Aang believed him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Zuko knew he was not exactly being subtle in trying to catch Katara's eye or attention; he had seen Azula rolling her eyes several times. But what else was he supposed to do? Aang said to wait, but he knew that would never work. Katara lacked the contextual awareness of everything that happened; she never knew his motivations for everything, least of all for the concubines. He needed to give her the contextual knowledge that she clearly, desperately needed; she couldn't figure it out on her own.

He also knew that Katara was aware of his obvious efforts, for she never once looked in his direction, stubbornly looking away—it was like at the Western Air Temple during the Great War all over again! But he knew he was irritating her and estimated that if he annoyed her enough, she would finally talk to him. But they needed to have a real conversation, for he didn't know what she was thinking, and she certainly didn't know what he was thinking. It needed to mimic how the conversation went after Azula attacked the Western Air Temple during the Great War in which Katara blamed him for her mother's death.

Confronting her when the emotions boiled for them both worked last time—it would work again.

After the breakfast, he found his chance to speak to her alone, finding her in her tent, packing for the imminent departure. "Can I talk to you?"

Katara went rigid but glanced back at him with a deep, disapproving frown. "You shouldn't be in my tent."

"Why?" he asked, stepping closer, feeling bold. "Are you afraid of what we would do to the furs?"

Her eyes widened before narrowing. "Zuko, stop."

He held up his hands. "Sorry. I just want to talk—I'm serious."

"I know you are," she whispered with a frustrated sigh. "I'm not ready to have this conversation."

"When will you be ready?"

"I don't know- "

Zuko shook his head, aggravated. "No, you know. You're ready for this conversation—you just don't want it."

Katara hesitated before squaring her shoulders, glaring at him. "I know how it's going to go. I don't want it to be this way."

"I wanted to be honest with you—that's why I told you what I did."

"I appreciate your honesty, but it doesn't change it. I can't trust you."

Zuko closed his eyes. "You have nothing to worry about. I'm never using the concubines again."

Katara sighed. "No, Zuko. That's not it."

"Then tell me what it is," he suggested with more heat in his tone than he wanted. "Stop making me guess. I wasn't lying to you about the foundation. It's there, and it's been growing. I want to build more atop it with you."

"But was the foundation built on a lie?" she whispered, agonized.

Zuko stared at her, confused. "What? Of course, it wasn't. I watched you and judged you, and you did the same to me—it's what attraction is. I came to know you- "

"But I've never known you!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands out. "Can't you see that?"

"You have known me the past year," he reminded, trying but failing to understand her perception. "You kept at it. You wanted to know me, even when I didn't want you to. I'm relieved you did. How can you say that you don't know me?"

Katara closed her eyes briefly, seeming to breathe for patience. "I've never known some parts of you."

Zuko wanted to exhale a flame in frustration, but he refrained. "What does that even mean? Of course, you're never going to know 'all parts' of me—no one knows all parts of each other. The only one who knows me completely is me, and the only one who knows you completely is you."

"I saw something I didn't know about you, something I didn't like."

"I was being honest with you! Do you really think I like everything about you?"

Katara looked away for several moments, discontent; it matched how Zuko felt. "See? This is what I wanted to avoid. I wanted more time to plan what I needed to say."

Zuko took a step closer, limiting the distance between them. "It's a yes or no question, Katara. If you need to think about it—need 'time to plan what you need to say'—that shows the answer. Tell me I'm wrong. What do you want?"

"What do you want, Zuko?"

Seeing no other option, he opened himself up. "I want to marry you—not now, but eventually. I want you to be my Fire Lady. I think we can accomplish many things together."

"No, I can't marry you," she said with a fire in her eyes.

Zuko stared at her, disbelieving. "Why?"

She squeezed her eyes shut; agony was on her face before it faded, replaced by a forced calm. "You ruined Family. How can I trust you after that?"

"What does that matter when we will make our own family?" he demanded, frustration and aggression warring inside him. "None of that matters!"

Katara looked at him sadly and nodded. "That's just it. You don't care that you ruined Family, and you don't care enough to learn—to realize the truth. You said we can accomplish many things together, and we certainly can, no doubt, but the most important thing we can accomplish has already been threatened because of what you did, and we're not even married."

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to stop the steam from flowing out his nostrils. "Exactly. We're not married. Why would you judge me by something I did when we're not married? That doesn't make sense! You judge me when we're together or something, not when we're not!"

"I judge you now to judge if you would be a good husband—a good father," she said quietly. "Would you be part of Family? Would you honor Family? Would you love Family? That's what Water teaches. But you ruined Family time and time again by denying its presence, by forcing it not to happen with those concubines. That's your pattern, and I don't want to risk that happening to me. Your habit is to ruin Family, I can't say for sure that you wouldn't ruin it again with me; I can't say for sure that you wouldn't ruin our family. There's doubt, and there can't be doubt—not about this. There can never be doubt about this."

His eyes roamed her face, looking for a sign of a trick, but there was only maddening authenticity. It was absurd! "You want me to have dozens of bastards running around?" he asked, finally seeing her insanity. "That would destabilize the Fire Nation!"

She glared, fire dancing in her blue eyes; it was nothing next to the inferno rising within him. "I want you not to have laid with a thousand concubines- "

"It wasn't a thousand," he snapped. "Stop listening to Azula."

"How many was it?"

Zuko hesitated, sifting through his memories for the concubines, but he could only remember the physical acts he engaged in; he remembered nothing about the concubines, unable to differentiate between them. He could say it was only one concubine, but he knew it was many—too many. "I don't know."

Katara's face withered. "Exactly," she whispered in a wavering pant. "You made a choice to lay with them but refused the conclusion; you made a choice to compromise your choice. We both know you're not sterile. What you did was unnatural."

"That's what a concubine is!" he shouted, appalled by her lack of understanding. "No man in the history of the world uses a concubine for Family! You think the conclusion of me laying with the concubines is children, but you're wrong. The conclusion of me laying with my wife, which I want to be you, is children; the conclusion of laying with the concubines is stress relief! A concubine's nothing more than that! Don't ever pretend that she is! Anyone who does is a dishonest idiot!"

Katara's eyes pinched. "I think you're wrong. What you did was wrong—it was evil. I've been trying to tell you that. I'm sorry that I'm not able to look past it, but I can't. How can I look past something that affects the most important thing in Family, the very thing we would build atop that foundation you keep talking about? We can't do this—I can't do this. Whatever we thought this was is wrong."

"You said you wanted to be my 'advisor,' and I thought that was an allusion to be my wife," he said, trying to control his temper; he felt it fraying. "This is something real between us. Don't ever tell Azula or Mom, but I've read enough of those stupid epic romances to know what this is between us. I'm not lying to you; don't lie to me- "

"I'm not lying to you," Katara interrupted, shaking her head. "I really can't marry you. Whatever this is between us isn't real enough."

"That's dragonshit," Zuko said, having a vicious feeling, revived by painful memories after the Great War. "You just want to abandon this because you can't handle it? You're just going to turn your back and not look into it? You're just going to go your own way and forget about me—about this? Is that it?"

Katara's breathing shuddered before she stiffened. "I think we need space to figure this out. I don't think it's possible, but maybe it is. But the only way to know for sure is by having space. Maybe we shouldn't talk for a while about anything but stopping Vaatu. Of if you can't handle that, we shouldn't talk at all. We'll talk to the others, not to each other."

"Of course, you'd be so weak to do this!" he exploded, fury filling him, almost spewing out of his mouth in a flaming roar, as it was the exact same thing that happened after the Great War. She was doing it again! "You weren't even going to tell me at all, were you? You were just going to leave me to figure it all out on my own—just like last time! This is dragonshit! It's weak! Weakness is your fucking nature, isn't it?"

He regretted the words immediately but couldn't take it back, not as Katara's eyes bulged in shock and pain, followed by anger. "I see I made the right decision."

"Katara," Zuko whispered in regret. "I'm sorry- "

"No, you're not," she hissed, fists trembling at her side, blue eyes blazing. "You're just sorry that I heard what you've always thought about me."

"You're not weak," he corrected, thinking rapidly in a panic. "But what you're doing is weak- "

"That's the same thing, Zuko."

Zuko stared at her in painful confusion, trying to stay in control. "No, it isn't. Just think about it- "

Katara looked icy. "I am thinking."

"You're thinking the wrong things! Everything you've thought about this is wrong!"

Some fire melted the powerful ice in her eyes. "My feelings don't matter?"

"That's not what I said," he denied, frowning. "Don't twist what I said. I'm talking about thoughts, not feelings."

Katara crossed her arms under her breasts, anger shivering through her. "My feelings are my thoughts."

"If you would let me explain- "

"You've explained enough."

Fire spurted out of his fists before he restrained himself. "But you haven't explained enough! Why wouldn't you marry me? None of this dragonshit! I want the real reason, Katara!"

"Why would I possibly marry you now?" Katara wondered, sounding almost hysterical, voice a ramble of emotion, thickening with choked tears. "I'm having trouble thinking of just one reason to marry you. You've laid with a thousand whores, think about murdering your father, say the most violent things I've ever heard, hold a terrible rage in your heart, and think that I'm weak. You said earlier that your bloodline's curse, sons and daughters doomed to chase their father's love and failing to earn it, won't happen again; you said you wouldn't let it happen. But how could you? How could you stop it? How could you be anything but like Ozai? You would never scar our children, but you've destroyed so much of Family already, which would impact our children. Ozai destroyed your family, and you're already so much like him. You could destroy our children just like Ozai destroyed you and Azula! Instead of their faces, you would scar their hearts—and mine!"

Zuko felt it as it happened; the crack he had slowly felt himself teetering toward swallowed him, pulling him down and down as he realized there was no convincing her. There was no persuasion; there was no explanation; there was no faith she would listen and understand. It was clear with its unholy chill, and there was no denying it; he ceased fighting it. He stopped trying, letting go. His heart roared in his ears, but he let none of it show. Nothing would show henceforth. His chakras remained mastered; he felt them remain mastered. But something washed over him—a return to the Fire Lord. It was like slipping into an old cloak of apathy and disregard, which he cherished after so long apart.

It was the only solution to such humiliation and cruelty!

He spun on his heels and walked away.

XxXxXxXxXxX

I hope that you all enjoyed it. Please leave a review and tell me what you think. I'd really appreciate it!

**When Aang awakens after five days, he has clarity for the first time since learning he was The Avatar, he talks to Zuko, who tears into him for leaving, but Aang is as honest as he can be without specifically revealing he went to the past. But he and Zuko reach peace before he sees Azula again, but she wears Air's robes to greet him, taking a chance that he did, in fact, mean what he said about wanting to marry her again when he returned. The gamble paid off, and Aang apologized for everything that happened, beginning a reconciliation. Aang then speaks with Samir and all the others, reacquainting himself with them and apologizing for his previous behavior.

Everyone decides to go to Ba Sing Se because it's the only option realistically. They need all the allies they can get, and they talk about the Sun Warriors, which raises the subject of the dragons. The Fire Nation hailed the dragons as their nation's symbol. It bothered me, that in Canon, Sozin just simply wiped them out because he wanted to. That honestly makes no sense, especially with the dragons as Fire's symbol of power and strength. So, I created a reason that seemed realistic, especially with the urgent backdrop of the Great War. Based on real human history, animals have been known to destroy crops and thus, food for humans; the mating grounds are real, too.

**Katara tells Zuko that she can't marry him because he destroyed Family, which is a big cultural difference that can't be bridged between them—yet. And also, Zuko isn't exactly smooth in convincing her or anything of the sort, which makes the divide bigger because his temper erupts.

Well, I think that is everything. I hope that you all enjoyed it, and I would really appreciate it if you left a review to tell me what you thought about it.

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