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!

23. Forward

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Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender

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"You are recovering well."

Aang looked at Azula, who entered their tent, alone. "Where's Samir?" he asked, finding it strange that Samir was elsewhere. Since he had returned, Samir had been either stuck to Azula or him. Apparently, from what Azula had already told him, Samir was beside herself with joy when she awakened to see him in the tent after his return. However, she was devastated when he would not wake up. She had even hit him to awaken him, even tried tickling him, but he had felt none of it.

"Mother and Zuko are watching over her as she plays with Toph," Azula answered.

"Watching over Samir or Toph?"

She smirked. "Can it not be both?"

"Probably should be," he said with amusement. "Yes, I think I'm recovering well. Only four days later, and I feel much stronger."

Azula's eyes roamed his face. "You look much healthier," she commented, nodding her head. "I recognize you more now."

"Good- "

"But only physically," Azula clarified, boldness in her voice. "I recognize so little of you. I see something I thought I would never see—peace and clarity. Your hatred is mute now."

He paused, seeing the determination in her golden eyes, and sighed; he knew the conversation was imminent. "What do you want to know?"

Azula approached, assessing him with keen eyes. "Where were you? I have waited for you to tell me- "

"I haven't because I'm not sure how to tell you," Aang interrupted, honest. "I think you can believe it, but it was so extraordinary that it doesn't seem possible."

She looked away. "Does it have to do with how you mastered your chakras, which seemed impossible?"

"It has to do with everything. I experienced something revolutionary—words will never give it justice. It was a lived experience. But it changed everything."

Azula hummed and straightened her back. "If I tell you what extraordinary thing happened to me while I was in limbo, will you tell me what extraordinary thing happened to you?"

Aang frowned, trying to think of what she could have experienced in her limbo beyond meeting Karluk and the Air Nomad children she mentioned before he had erupted in a rage and fled. "You met someone else?"

She nodded. "Someone I hold in the highest regard and esteem. His influence over me was brief, but my memory cherishes him profoundly—more than anyone but you, Samir, Zuko, and Mother."

His surprise cleared for swift realization. "Your grandfather?"

A laugh escaped her before it faded. "No. I aimed to find him, but I found someone else instead—someone you love more than me, your wife."

Aang stared at her, glimpsing the innate awe shining in her golden depths. "You met an Air Nomad," he observed, knowing it was the only explanation as the last generation of his race was in limbo, too, since Indra was too compromised to fulfill her duties.

"I did."

"Someone I knew."

"Someone you love; someone you will love forever."

The wind sang around him, humming in his ears with a remarkable melody that he recognized; he wavered on his feet, seeing the truth on her face. "Gyatso?" he croaked, stunned.

Azula's face became radiant with wonder and excitement; it stirred his own awe. "Yes. When I was in limbo after Father killed me, Gyatso found me, or I found him, meditating in that place, and we spoke for a long time until you pulled me back. I wanted to tell you previously, and I almost did, but I did not think you could handle it."

He realized that before he left, she had tried to tell him—or wanted to—but could not. "He's who told you that Air fell," Aang realized, closing his eyes. "He's the one who told you the truth that you tried to tell me. Of course."

Azula's brows rose, intrigue and disbelief fighting over her face. "You know the truth of Air?"

"We fell," he said, opening his eyes. "You're right—Gyatso's right."

She shook her head with a brief, disbelieving laugh. "I hoped you would see the truth, but I never imagined you would see it so quickly. You know, surely, that Sozin's song Mother sang the other day was about Sozin and Air."

Aang nodded. "Yes."

"It said, 'tyrants with their heads bald.' You know that it referred to Air?"

"Yes."

Azula stared up at him, golden eyes roaming. "Yet you are calm."

"The song's true," he whispered. "I know it is—I saw it."

She gripped his forearms, fingers curling over the garment. "I wished I had told you before now."

He shook his head instantly. "No, you don't. I might have killed you in my hatred."

Something considering flashed in her eyes. "Or yourself," she whispered. "I feared you would wound yourself so grievously to get that chance to speak with him in limbo."

Aang only nodded, unsurprised; he should have recognized that the only one who could tell Azula the truth about Air was Gyatso, who was the one who told him the truth, too. But something—everything—told him that Gyatso had impossibly much more trouble telling and convincing him than Azula.

"Prudent," he commended.

"He adores you," she said, lips stretching in an amazed smile. "He was a great man, for he withstood Sozin's evil and did not succumb. It was a greatness beyond anyone of my lineage."

Aang smiled at her. "Until you, Zuko, and Iroh."

Azula shook her head. "We all succumbed to Sozin's anthem, to that darkness, but Gyatso never did; he was good always. He was amazing, and it was an honor I shall never forget that he chose to share that conversation with me. He loves you, Aang. He was your father, and I realized that being a father—or mother—is not merely for sixteen years; it is for a lifetime and beyond. Being a parent does not end with age nor death; he is still your father, Aang—forever."

He squeezed her hands. "He's the greatest thing to ever happen to me. If my mentor—father—was anyone else, I shudder to think of the result." Something heavy and awed permeated through him—the adoration and gratefulness for Gyatso. "The world is still here only because of Gyatso. I want to be like him so badly, but I'm not; I'm more like the High Council—like those cruel fools. I know I'm never going to accomplish everything that he accomplished."

"How so?"

"I don't have that kind of love that he did. I can't do it. Maybe when I'm older, but not now." He thought of what he did to Afiko and closed his eyes. "I have nothing like his love."

"I think you do; I see a lot of him in you."

"Maybe," he said, unconvinced, but thankful that she thought so.

She was quiet for several moments. "I told you what happened to me. Will you tell me what happened to you?"

"You did tell me," he observed. "But what happened to you happened to me—but in a different way. And it's affected me on every level."

"It has," she whispered, staring at him. "You look so much older."

Aang sighed and sat down on a protruding stone he raised out of the ground; he stared into the distance. "I feel it. I've caught up now. I feel like I lived one hundred years in those five weeks. I'm my true age now. Either way, it took years off my life." He felt the stress in his body, which lingered. "My body isn't the same. I pushed myself so hard. I'm still recovering from it—I feel it."

Azula's face pinched. "I do not want to speak of your death."

"I don't speak of my death; I speak of my life, which includes my death."

"You sound like Gyatso."

A brief smile flashed over his face. "Good." He stared at her, trying to figure out how to explain intelligently what happened to make her understand but giving up. "I went back—that's what happened. I went back to the Southern Temple and- "

Azula frowned. "No, I went to the Southern Temple, and there was no evidence of recent activity."

"Don't think of it as a there; think of it as a then. I was at many places, but I was also at the Southern Temple. It was the last place I was at before I returned."

She stared at him, silent for a long time, intelligence working furiously in her eyes. "Then, as in a time?"

"Then," he confirmed.

Azula blinked, leaning back slightly as she made the impossible connection, and he raised a stool for her to sit on, which she did instantly; her face was vigorous in effort to comprehend. "Explain."

Aang understood her fierce desire to know. "The Tree. I used It's power as my own and went back; I lived then again. I went back to the day when everything changed; it was the beginning of the end. I walked across Time."

She wavered in place, clearly overwhelmed by his description before she recovered. "Air's murder?"

Aang shook his head. "My twelfth birthday. It's when I learned the truth of who I am, and it's when everything became different; I was treated differently. It was five weeks before Sozin's Comet. I was in the Iceberg 99 years and five months. I saw the world again; I breathed that air again; I walked that ground again; I heard the vernacular of that age again. I lived again for the first time since I learned I was The Avatar." He locked gazes with her, seeing her speechless astonishment, and understanding it; he felt similarly, though he retained his articulation. "And because I lived again for the first time, it meant I wasn't dead inside; my mind and spirit weren't mute. I saw things, and I denied it for as long as I could, but the truth won at the end of the day—or the end of my journey—because the truth always wins at the end of the day. I lived again, and now I'm still living; I'm never going to be dead again. It was a miracle. I was no longer numb when I returned there; I was no longer hateful. I was in love, which cleared the way for understanding—though it was a long process. I was more stubborn than you can imagine, but Gyatso was patient; he loved me, which strengthened my own love. I was being born again the entire time I was there, pushing and squeezing my way through the womanly tunnel, following the dim light in the distance that only grew brighter and, thus, more painful—but more mesmerizing. I kept going, lashing out, kicking like a baby against my unknown surroundings that were crushing me, compressing me, pressuring me, confining me, trapping me, squeezing me, suffocating me, and drowning me. I attacked many people while I was there; I killed many people while I was there, while I was in my haze of rebirth. But after I met Gyatso—my father—I came out of the tunnel, swallowed by the light, and I was reborn, seeing the truth. It was a long process, but it happened; I was there; I was then. I learned everything. Gyatso made me realize that I had things backward. For so long, I had focused on what I wanted to say, what I wanted to see, what I wanted to hear, and what I wanted to feel. And that's what I expected when I went back—all those things, all my wants. But I never thought of my needs. Instead of what I wanted to say, what I wanted to see, what I wanted to hear, and what I wanted to feel, it was what I needed to say, what I needed to see, what I needed to hear, and what I needed to feel. I got all of it—there was no way to stop it, and I tried to for a long time, fighting against it, but it came anyway. I'm free now."

Azula stared at him, face frozen in an expression of shock—whether by the fact that he went back or his obvious enlightenment and freedom, he was unsure. "You were there the whole time? The two months?"

"No, five weeks. The first three weeks, I was in the Immortal Realm, going out of my mind. But when I went back, I appeared in this area on the continent—but 109 years ago, on the exact day of my twelfth birthday. I had a lot of ground to cover—a lot of travel ahead of me—and I kept going. I didn't have Appa, so it was only me." He gestured wryly to his body, feeling its low reserves of energy, which were steadily rising the longer he recovered. "That's why I became in such a state. I pushed myself with impossible effort; I only ate and drank a few times while I was there. You could say it was a literal pilgrimage—a spiritual awakening. I traveled across the entire continent, stopping at some places; I saw Bumi when he was young again, and I talked to him while he was asleep." He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the memory of Young Bumi, knowing he would be confronted by Old Bumi swiftly once he reached Ba Sing Se. "I beheld him, gazing at him; he was as I remembered. He was Bumi; he was my friend—my Bumi. All this time, I've thought of this Bumi here as an imposter and fraud—a stranger. But he's always been my Bumi, even now; he's still here as he always has been. I realize that now. After seeing him, I encountered the Dai Li, humiliated and threatened them, and kept on going. I made a mess everywhere I went; I would blend in, but everyone knew I was an Air Nomad. At first, I thought they would be happy to see me, but they hated me; they feared me—not because I was The Avatar but because I'm an Air Nomad. We were hated everywhere, despised. The only ones who had fond things to say about us were those in Earth's Major Cities because they never actually encountered us, apparently; they knew lies, not truths—like me. But as you can imagine, I didn't take it well when everyone hated me so openly, hated Air with such disgust and honest passion."

Azula's eyes brightened. "Yes," she whispered, sounding far away.

Aang bowed his head in shame. "Everyone called us Arrowheads instead of Air Nomads. I attacked many people—all the accusers I encountered. But they weren't accusers; they were observers who were telling the truth. I probably killed some of them and didn't realize it—and I did kill some and meant to kill them. But my goal was Sozin; I had him on my mind. That was my aim—kill Sozin and stop my race's murder, which prevents the Great War. I went from the continent to the Fire Nation, hitching a ride with pirates, who I killed because they discovered my identity, and I traveled along Fire's islands, meeting many more people who were much more insistent and vocal about hating Air and distrusting me because I'm an Air Nomad. I had little restraint, if any, for them, and I know I killed some. But I saw Kuzon again, talked to him while he was asleep, and made my way to the Caldera. But before I got there, I witnessed an execution with Daoron in charge of it."

"Daoron?" she echoed, voice amazed. "He was Sozin's right-hand man before he was killed."

"Who do you think killed him?"

Her eyes bulged. "You killed him?"

"He killed himself to keep me from torturing him. It wasn't right then but a couple days later I did. But he was leading an execution against someone—a woman who looked like you."

"Like me?"

He smiled slightly. "Your grandmother."

Her golden eyes narrowed. "Grandmother Ilah was not born- … Mother's mother—Rina."

"I met her; I saved her life from execution, actually. She was a good woman." He hesitated before sighing, electing for honesty. "She offered herself to me."

"Sexually?"

"Yes."

Azula hummed after a moment, unsurprised. "Of course, she did. Why would she not?"

He blinked. "What?"

She smirked. "Of course, I am not the only woman who perceives your greatness. My grandmother would, as well. I think I would be disappointed in her if she had not offered herself to you."

"You're so weird," Aang teased, grinning.

Azula's brows rose. "I prefer delightful."

"That, too," he agreed. "But I saved Rina from execution, and she told me a lot about the Fire Nation, how there was a rebellion fermenting against Sozin, but I know nothing came of it. She wanted to go with me to hunt Sozin, but I refused; I left with Roku's robes, which she had kept, which allowed me to blend in at the Caldera."

"As much as you could as an obvious Air Nomad," she observed, clearly staring to catch on and understand everything.

Aang nodded. "Yes. I killed palace guards, threatened your grandaunts, Li and Lo, and searched everywhere for Sozin. I went to his rooms—the Fire Lord's rooms—but nothing. He wasn't there; it was empty. But someone came in—a pregnant woman."

He watched her eyes widen in instant knowing. "My great-grandmother? Fire Lady Shala?"

He recalled his cruelty to Shala and winced. "Yes, it was her. But when I was done with her, there was part of her missing."

The widening became a bulge; she seemed to barely breathe. "The One-Handed Fire Lady was one-handed because of you?"

"It seems so," he confessed, withered. "I was angry, and she was making me angry." He felt profound shame and guilt—nothing new, unfortunately. "I reacted poorly. She tried to attack me, and I wasn't interested in restraint. I marred her hand forever, and Daoron said they would need to amputate it. I'm guessing it was amputated."

Azula nodded. "It was. It is said that Sozin banished anyone who mentioned her ruined hand."

"Probably," Aang agreed, feeling heavy by the weight of his actions—nothing new. "I terrified her out of her mind for Azulon, with whom she was pregnant. She was far along, but she wasn't ready to deliver him. But that didn't stop her body from crumbling under my cruelty; she went into a premature labor out of terror. She was so scared—I don't know if I've ever seen fear like hers, and I made her that way."

She closed her eyes as enlightenment flashed over her face. "That is why her labor was so difficult," she breathed, amazed. "Her labor lasted for days; it was legendary, literally creating a legend about Grandfather. We were always told that Grandfather was so powerful that only something even more powerful could lure him out of his mother's womanly tunnel, drawn by the magnificent fire above—Sozin's Comet. We were taught that it literally took Sozin's Comet to force Azulon out of his primal dwelling, for only something celestial could make him deign to grace the world with his magnificent presence."

"But that's what happened," he continued, shaking himself. "She confessed out of terror for Azulon, who I threatened to kill, that Sozin was away; she said she didn't know when he was coming back, and she was telling the truth. But I was so desperate; my mind was breaking from being so close but far to Sozin. I was deranged. My desperation was a sickness—it's always been a sickness. Everything I've ever done since I learned I was The Avatar was desperate; every move has been made out of desperation. I made Shala scream like never in her life, making its shriek echo everywhere in the palace, and I knocked her unconscious. But guards were running to the room, having heard the scream. I made it look like I attacked her—well, I did attack her. But I made it look like I raped her, giving the ultimate dishonor to a woman."

Azula stared up at him, face expressionless. "Cunning," she commented distantly, clearly imagining it.

Aang sighed. "I was desperate. It was horrible, but I thought it necessary. But it was my plan—it was the only thing that I thought would work to get me to Sozin because that's all that mattered. I let myself be found and captured about to murder Sozin's heir for whom he awaited decades after having 'obviously' raped his young bride, who he clearly adored, and who went into early labor due to the trauma she experienced. I thought it was foolproof. Sozin had to deal with me personally—he would never have it any other way. But Sozin wasn't there, and it wasn't Sozin I was brought to."

She laughed slightly, not sounding amused at all. "So, that is how Daoron died. No one ever knew. You killed him—or made him kill himself."

"I wanted Sozin," he recalled. "I tried to get him to tell me where Sozin was, but he wouldn't tell me. It was going nowhere for a long time. But he knew I was a Firebender, which made him confused by my tattoo of mastery. He started putting the pieces together, and I didn't stop him. He realized I was The Avatar, and he knew he wouldn't hold up under my power; he knew he would betray Sozin's location if I pressured him enough. That's when he slit his own throat."

Azula's brows rose. "To stay loyal to Sozin."

"Yes. I tried to heal him, but I could only stall his demise. I threatened him with everything I could think of, talking about his family, his sons, daughters, and wife—said I would do unspeakable things to them if he didn't tell me. He finally cracked as he laid there, dying; he said that Sozin was avenging Fire against Air. And he said that Sozin's Comet was imminent, which terrified me."

Her eyes narrowed. "I do not understand."

He sighed. "I miscalculated. I always thought that I left two months before Sozin's Comet based on my calculations of its newest appearance when compared to my birthday. I realized that Sozin's Comet doesn't return every century on a single, fixed date; it returns between a range of dates spanning a couple months. That's why I never knew how close I was to still being at the Southern Temple during the Attack. I thought I left two months before, but I actually left- "

"Three days before," Azula finished quietly.

Aang stared at her, shocked. "How do you- "

"Gyatso," she supplied, somber. "He told me."

"Three days," he confirmed. "And Daoron told me it was five days when he killed himself, which meant I had five days to reach the Southern Temple from the Caldera on foot while having had no breaks, rests, or true reprieves. It was one constant journey on my feet, always going, never stopping—and I had to stop in the South before I reached the Southern Temple."

Amazement was etched in her face. "How did you do it?"

Aang smiled but felt no pride. "Hatred."

"Of course," she agreed, voice soft but neutral.

"I had to go to the South first because I had to find the Boy," he explained. "I had to make sure he was where he was supposed to be; I had to be able to keep track of him—because I planned on stopping everything, which would mean he would leave the Iceberg and become me. He would take over while I would disappear. I needed to know where he was. But when I got to the South, he wasn't there; I searched everywhere in the ocean, knowing where he should be, but he wasn't there—that's what confirmed that I left so much closer to Sozin's Comet than I ever knew. But the Boy was nowhere to be found, and I needed to know where he was, and the only solution I could conceive, even with the dwindling time, was to go into the South and speak to the Tribesmen, see if they had seen the Boy or something."

Azula closed her eyes. "But it did not go according to plan."

He laughed slightly, actually feeling the barest hint of amusement. "That was the theme of the whole journey. Nothing went according to plan—because everything I thought I knew about that time was wrong. It was an agonizing feeling—it still is."

"I would imagine," she agreed.

"Water hated us even more than Fire did," Aang whispered. "They hated us; they wanted to kill me on the spot. One of them even talked about eating me. I finally got to speak to their Chief—Kuhna."

Azula's brows rose before she inhaled sharply. "You were the 'Gyatso' who visited him, warning of the Great War's imminence!"

Aang blinked. "How do you know that?"

She sighed. "I also met Chiefs Hada and Kuhna while I was in my limbo."

"Is there anyone you didn't meet?" he asked, amazed.

Azula smirked briefly. "Too many to name. But I spoke with Chiefs Hada and Kuhna briefly. They said the Great War was the fault of the 'Arrowheads.' Chief Kuhna mentioned an Air Nomad who visited him before the Great War; he said it was Gyatso. But when I later mentioned it to Gyatso when I encountered him, he denied it." She laughed suddenly with something fond on her face. "But he realized clearly that it was you all along, using his name as your own. He told me not to worry; there was nothing foul amiss."

Aang nodded, understanding; it sounded like Gyatso, and he felt a powerful kinship with and love for Azula due to the fact that she understood Gyatso, too. "I almost killed Chief Kuhna for his hatred for Air; it was obvious, and he was disrespectful. He wanted nothing to do with me, and I was enraged; we yelled at each other. I asked him if he had seen the Boy; he said he hadn't. But when I told him about the Great War, he was infuriated and accused me of evil—just like Air. He told me the biggest lie I ever heard in my life behind the lie that Air was innocent. But I didn't believe the lie and left, furious."

She looked curious. "What was the lie?"

He hesitated before shaking his head. "That will come back. It wasn't a lie; it was part of the truth that Gyatso revealed to me."

"Another constant theme, I surmise," she commented. "Lies that are discovered to be truths."

Aang was grateful that she was perceptive enough to understand. "Nothing went how I thought it would," he breathed. "But I'm still here, even though it didn't. I thought it would kill me, leave me nothing but blood and bones before dust—but here I am. When I got to the Southern Temple, it was everything I ever wanted, but then I listened to the High Council, heard the others arguing with Gyatso about me—my disappearance. They were political; they were arrogant and weak, petty as Kuei."

Azula nodded. "It makes sense."

He was still in painful disbelief, but he knew it was true. "They hated me, and they hated Gyatso. They were accusing him and condemning him, but what was most surprising—Gyatso gave as good as he got, if not more. He disparaged them severely, unashamed as their anger kept growing; he spit on them and disowned them as the High Council. I thought they were going to attack each other, and I knew if it happened, he would kill all of them. Gyatso was defending me against them, saying that my choice was the right one. He was proud of me for running away; he said he was planning to run away with me himself, but I beat him to it. He said he was glad that I was rid of them. The others were talking about executing him for his 'treachery,' but Gyatso didn't care. He said that everything was their fault, blaming all the madness on their heads, filled with arrogant rigidity. He called them tyrants to their faces; he was furious. I'd never seen him furious in my life, but he was."

"A righteous fury," Azula whispered.

Aang laughed slightly in agreement. "He was rebellious, rebelling against them. I always knew he was a rebel, but I never understood how deep it went and what it actually meant. I learned so much about him—things I never imagined or knew. I think I saw him for the first time in my life as he was, not as I thought he was. When I got him alone, I couldn't believe it—he was in front of me, alive. It was the best thing ever. He took things in stride and never lost his patience as I told him so many things, as I tried to convince him that I could save him—save all of them. He didn't care about the others on the High Council to be patient, but he cared about me to be patient; he listened to me and challenged me. I thought he would want me to save our race, but he rejected it; he denied it and said I was doing something so much worse than Sozin. I was defying What Is, actively defiling it. He talked to me, and unlike anyone else ever in my life, I listened—in time. He reminded me of the leaf in the wind."

Azula's eyes sparked in recognition. "He told me about the leaf in the wind."

A fond smile stretched across his lips. "Of course, he did. He believed in me—believed I could see the truth, accept it, and do the right thing. It wasn't easy for either of us, but we got through it. He made me see the truth, and I somehow accepted it. He got to the roots of the problem. And I watched him die; I let it happen. I watched everything, never looking away for a moment. I could have saved him; I could have stopped it all. But I chose not to, accepting What Is; I let him be."

"I am in awe of you," she breathed, impressed, staring up at him, wondering. "I never conceived you would make that decision if you had the opportunity."

"I didn't, either. I spoke with Gyatso. I saw the light in his eyes; I saw the beauty of his smile; I felt his touch, warm and true—it was everything I've ever wanted. I got to say everything I always wanted to say; I got to say goodbye and feel his love one last time. And no matter what I told him, how I murdered Ba Sing Se, how hateful I was, how I didn't care what he thought, he still loved me and showed me his love, being patient, warm, and kind. I don't know how he did it."

"Because he is wise."

"Wiser than me," he confessed. "I'll never be as wise as him. He was at peace; he was okay with dying. He said he didn't want to die hating, and he didn't—because I watched it happen, not interfering. Even when Sozin showed up, I didn't interfere."

Azula seemed to stop breathing. "Sozin? You saw him?"

Aang nodded, remembering. "I did. He killed Gyatso, and I didn't kill him in response. I spared him. I killed all his guards and the Betrayer, but I spared Sozin; I cursed him, but I spared him. My wrath was concentrated on the Betrayer. I killed him."

Her eyes widened. "Sozin?"

"No," he responded, glancing at her with a mulish twitch of his lips. "I met Sozin; I talked to him; I terrified him; and I cursed him. But I didn't kill him."

Her golden eyes bulged for several moments before she shook her head. "Then who did you- "

"Afiko."

She blinked. "Afiko? I have never heard of an 'Afiko.'"

"Because I killed him," Aang supplied, nodding his head in agreement. "The Betrayer. He showed Sozin where the temples are; he brought him to us. He betrayed his own race, and I killed him for his crime." He recalled Afiko's terror and felt nothing but ugly satisfaction. "I smothered his bending, took him to the heavens, flew next to Sozin's Comet, and dunked his limbs into its flames. Then I went higher, and I dropped him. I flew beside him as he crashed to earth, and he kept trying to reach for me even with his destroyed limbs, screaming hysterically for help, saying he was sorry, but I didn't help him—I only watched. And he crashed to earth—his body was destroyed; he was nothing but a puddle, which I shot lightning at again and again, not leaving a memory of him. The only memory there will ever be of him is my memory." He glanced at her. "And now your memory."

Azula only seemed fascinated. "Most inventive."

He sighed. "Air fell because of Air and no one else—Gyatso was right. Afiko betrayed our locations, and I avenged us—I avenged Air's betrayal from Air. I never thought it possible, but we were the source of our own damnation and, thus, destruction. I've never thought clearly about my race since I woke up in this time—not a single instance."

"I noticed," she said carefully, watching him.

"They were perfect because I needed them to be. Otherwise, it would have destroyed the world." He stared at her. "I would have destroyed the world. You know that, don't you?"

"I know you would have destroyed this time."

"Maybe that's the better way to put it," Aang admitted. "But I would have still hated the world that let the Attack happen. There's been no forgiveness in me for a long time. I don't think I'm ever going to hold a lot of forgiveness, but I'm trying to. I spared Sozin, and I knew—knew—I was never capable of it. But knowledge is always wrong."

Azula's lips twitched, though her eyes were dark with solemn understanding. "One of Air's primary teachings."

"I spared him, but I'm never going to forgive him. I watched him murder Gyatso."

Azula flinched at the reminder. "Right."

"But before that, Gyatso murdered everything I thought I knew about our race—about the time in which I was born, that world I idealized." A hoarse laugh bubbled past his lips. "It was just as ugly then as it is now. And I knew that, deep down—I did. Believe me, I did. Any time that evokes the Attack and Great War is rotten. But that rotten time had Air, too, meaning it was redeemed of its rotten-ness."

"I understand."

"But what I never realized—what I never thought possible—is that my race was part of that rotten-ness; they contributed to it. They were as sinful and ugly as the other races; they were more so because they did nothing to stop it—to stop themselves—unlike the other races who struggled and formulated beliefs, structures, and traditions to better themselves. They were human and so flawed," he whispered, pained. "Just like everyone. I thought this time was an ugly abomination forever, which it is. But that's only the form. The nature is beauty. And it's just like it was then. It was ugly and abominable then, too—maybe more so. I don't know. That's the thing—I don't know. I thought I did—unlike anything I've ever thought, I thought I knew how it was then. I thought my understanding complete. But I was wrong. I never would have believed it if not for Gyatso. Pasang, Tashi, Roosing, and Yingun could have told me, and I wouldn't have listened; I would have lashed out and ignored them; I would have destroyed the world. But Gyatso was the only one who I would listen to—and I did. It's never been me who's saved the world; it's always been Gyatso. Everyone knows my name and will for many generations, but no one knows Gyatso's name. It's his name that everyone should say, not mine. He should have been The Avatar, not Roku and not me. He had such love, and he tried to teach me that love—I know he did. But it didn't stick like it should have. Even after all the truths I learned, even after all of it, I killed Afiko. I couldn't kill Sozin, but I could kill Afiko, and I did. I told you—I smothered his airbending and flew him to the apex of the skies, so close that I flew beside the Great Comet and shoved his face into it, but not enough to kill him, only burn him. And then I dropped him from the heavens, and I watched him fall and crash; he screamed and begged; he pleaded and made promises; he flailed and sobbed—until he didn't. I didn't stop his death, and I felt no regret. I know the lethality of my actions, my wrath, but I did it anyway. I felt no love."

"I am not sure you were supposed to," Azula whispered after several moments, golden eyes clear; there was no judgment nor horror about inflicting such an agonizing death on one of his own race, even if it was against the Betrayer. "I think you are exceptional. No one could make that decision but you. You made the hardest decisions to make—as you do always."

Aang felt his throat tighten and nodded stiffly, tongue working hard to shape the words. "I saw the Boy, and I talked to him. I forgave him. I made that decision. That's what Gyatso said—he said that the Boy wasn't worth my hatred because the Boy was a good boy. I was a good boy. He said that it was time to forgive him—forgive myself—and mature, understanding things as they are and accepting What Is. Somehow, I did it. He said I needed to do what Air never could."

"You stopped falling," she observed, amazed. "You have started pulling yourself out of your own darkness."

"I had to accept the truth rather than embrace all the lies."

"Which were?"

It occurred to him that he could let the facts die with him; no one else ever had to know, least of all his Mother of Air. He could preserve the innocence of his race in the world's eyes. He could let the lie flourish forever. But he couldn't do it.

The truth was too important.

"We killed our babies," he confessed.

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"That's why there were never non-benders born to us," Aang explained, voice soft. "We eradicated the 'weakness' or 'impurity' from our lineages with a systematic murder of every non-bender born to us. The Elders would pitch the babies off the temple, and they plummeted into the valley. No one stopped them—no one knew about it. Chief Kuhna told me about it, but I didn't believe him—I couldn't."

"How did he know?"

He shuddered. "Because we murdered Kuruk's children he sired by the nuns."

Azula's eyes gleamed in recognition. "How many?"

"Eleven," he answered, ashamed—and furious, for Kuruk's fury filled him. "Any half-spawns and non-benders were eradicated. Any child that tainted Air's perfection, we murdered. We purged them from our blood, and the Elders succeeded in their aims. There were no non-benders born to us during the last thousand years of Air's presence. My lineage is the most 'pure' lineage in the world because I'm from Air. You think your lineage is 'pure,' but it's nothing when compared to mine. Sozin sired two non-benders, which was a sin in Air's eyes. But unlike Air, Sozin spared them, loved them, and made them princesses, even if he barred them from inheriting the Dragon's Throne. In your lineage, it has only been three generations since there was a non-bender who survived to have children, and everyone says that Sozin's line is the strongest in the world. But Air's lineage, including mine, hasn't had a non-bender in at least a thousand years—probably quite a bit longer."

She was silent for several moments, but there was no surprise on her face. "It makes sense," she said at last, offering no judgment.

He shook his head. "It makes too much sense," he bit out. "Perfect sense! It's all madness! I would have vomited on the spot when I realized it was true if there was anything in my stomach but hatred!"

Azula sighed, looking away, silent. "It is clinical," she whispered. "Detached. Is that not what Air pursued—detachment?"

Aang grit his teeth, fists clenching; he wasn't angry at her in the slightest. For the first time in his life, he understood exactly who he was angry at with accuracy and honesty—the true source of it all that wasn't provoked by lies and desperation. "I know. We went too far, which is what Gyatso said. We lost our way; we disconnected ourselves from our roots, enslaving us to confusing instability and malevolence, which breeds atrocities and arrogance, the source of all evil. I'm just disgusted, horrified, and sad that we fell so far. It makes me question everything, which is an agonizing feeling. Have I believed nothing but lies? Have I wasted years of my life cherishing something that wasn't real? Have I held emptiness rather than memories all these years? I hate the High Council."

"Leaders can either lead you to salvation or damnation," she observed, voice soft and solemn. "Air's High Council sounds unpleasant."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I think I'd attack them right now if they were in front of me. I had the chance to attack them then while I was there, but I was too confused; I didn't understand what was going on. I was trying to figure things out. But now I have it all figured out. There will never be a High Council again—that is my vow."

Azula's brows rose, surprised. "Are you sure- "

"Yes," he hissed, adamant. "It's my decision to make. Gyatso said I could make changes; he trusted me to make any changes that I saw fit. This fits. No more High Councils; no more Elders; no more idiots leading us to damnation. We're going to return to our roots; we're going to be nomads again, spreading friendship, which is the root of all love. We lost our way so deeply that I'm not sure we've been connected to our roots since Keska's reign. This was a long time coming—Gyatso was right. We were damned fools of our own making. It's our fault. I see that now."

She nodded. "I commend you. But there will always be a leader needed—you are the leader. There will always be a hierarchy, a structure of social power."

"I'll think of something," he assured. "I'll find what Air did thousands of years ago and revive that, not the nonsense we had in these last many generations. I'll refill the temples, and we will live as we should. We will be free and wise. We are cleansed of our sins, and there will be no vengeance and retribution from the other races. We have all lost so much, and we're going to rebuild."

"You already started with the temples," she observed. "Now you move to something more."

"We will move to something more," Aang corrected, catching her eyes. "You're part of this—if you want to be."

Azula smirked and raised one shoulder. "How did you know?"

He watched her in his race's garments, soothed. "I guess I always knew; it just took me a long time to realize it."

"Careful," she drawled, golden eyes delighted. "If you say such things, I might become pregnant."

Aang laughed slightly. "That wouldn't be a bad thing, would it?"

Something serious crossed her face. "You are okay with it?" she asked softly, eyes roaming his face, searching for a sign. "Okay with me? I know you have hated the thought of me for- "

He shook his head. "It was never you. I hated the thought of me loving you if that makes sense. My hatred had nothing to do with you; it had to do with me because I hated myself for loving you."

"I am unchanged," Azula said, voice rising slightly in insistence; she gestured to herself, draped in Air's garments, which was a stimulating visual he would never tire of. "Nothing is different about me. I am the same Azula you fled from in horror after marrying- "

"You never needed to change; it was me who needed to change, and I have."

"But you will tie me, tie Fire, tie Sozin to Air for all-time," she stressed with a grim urgency. "There is no going back once we start going forward."

Aang smiled slightly, amazed by the peace he felt. "There was no going back after Ember Island. You had me then, and I had you."

She was quiet for a long time before sighing. "I know. But I was at the Southern Temple, and I felt its absence. Never in my life have I experienced anything like it, not even at the Eastern Temple. We did that—to you and Air. You must be sure, Aang. I cannot do this only for you to leave years from now, unable to handle it—handle me. Remember your hatred—remember what you have always felt about me. Remember. We sacked the Air Temples and emptied them of their occupants- "

"The temples were sacked by Fire before," he interrupted in correction.

"What?"

He turned to her fully with clear eyes. "Or I should say—one of the temples was sacked by Fire before. Why didn't you tell me about Houka?"

Azula stared up at him, bemused. "What are you talking about?"

That confirmed what he had suspected. "You don't know."

"I have never heard of the temples being sacked before, least of all by Fire Lord Houka," she explained quickly, amazement on her face. "He sacked one of them?"

Aang nodded. "The Western Temple. You didn't wonder why its architecture is different from the others?"

Azula hesitated. "I did, but I never imagined that- "

"The first Western Temple was destroyed." Aang shook his head, trying to imagine it based on Gyatso's story, but he failed to imagine it. "Apparently, the fighting was so fierce that many dragons and sky bison fell out of the sky and crashed into and on top of the temple, destroying it; all that was left was the foundation, according to Gyatso."

Azula looked past him, conceptualizing it. "The Western Temple now is not Kirku's Western Temple."

"No," he confirmed. "It was built by powerful, artistic Earthbenders employed by my race, and they decided to build it in a new location unknown to Fire. That's why the architecture is entirely different. It's unlike the other temples because its creator was different; they're not the same at all, really. This is part of the song your mother sung about Sozin. This was Houka's crime- "

Azula seemed to almost groan as her eyes shut. "Of course. I always wondered what possible crime Houka committed to marry one of Air's nuns and sire his heir—sire Fire's heir—by her and ensure that his heir was an Airbender. It makes too much sense. Why did he attack? The song says that Fire was enslaved for rising in a stand against foes who raped our race and land."

Aang felt hollow. "Five Air Nomads attacked with the wind and slaughtered thousands of Houka's subjects like it was nothing. They were traveling on their sky bisons, and they came ran into a nest of dragons or something—Gyatso didn't know for sure, but he knew that it was a massive clash. The sky bisons and dragons were killed by each other, but the Air Nomads were so devastated by their sky bisons' deaths that they reacted in fury and attacked who they blamed for it—Fire." Aang felt his scorn for Kuruk return. "Of course, Kuruk didn't care at all what happened and let Air and Fire deal with the consequences, which culminated in Air's murder."

Azula watched him for several long moments. "How? What was the enslavement?"

"Air demanded recompense for Houka's disgusting crime, and Houka paid—he sired his heir by an Air Nomad nun and swore that Fire would pay tribute to Air for a thousand years to redeem himself—themselves—of dishonor." Aang's fists clenched, and he didn't know who his ire was directed at. "And we held Fire to it; we never forgave the Western Temple's slaughter; we held onto Houka's vow and blackmailed Fire into paying tribute every year for all those centuries. Sozin wanted out, but we refused, apparently."

Azula's face shuddered, realization like twin flames in her golden eyes. "That must be why he invaded Earth—to help pay off the debt sooner, taking some of Earth's resources and treasures to free his race from Air's demanded tributes. I suspect that is the reason for his invasion."

Aang nodded. "Maybe. Gyatso also mentioned there were several famines that- "

She gasped, and it sounded almost strangled; she stared up at him, eyes widening in discovery. "Yes. Sozin ascended the Dragon's Throne in the middle of the worst famine to hit Fire in generations. The stress from it killed his father, Fire Lord Kohaku, who was much too young to die; he reigned only twenty-two years. Compared to Sozin's reign of 128 years, it was a blink. But Sozin went to Air's High Council of Elders for help, and I thought it always meant help as in a sharing of resources, but now I realize that Sozin must have gone and demanded that the tributes end so he could use the extra revenue to help our race, who were starving and dying. He probably wanted to trade with Earth for food or something."

"But he had to get Fire out of the famine without Air's help, which is why he invaded Earth," Aang observed, tired. "We refused to end the tributes, producing even more animosity and hatred when there was already a lot."

"Yes. And now I understand why Houka was killed in a furious mob of his own citizens," Azula added, looking enlightened. "It was not only because his heir was a half-spawn and an Airbender; it was because he had certainly started the tributes to Air, which was unforgivable to Fire. We wanted vengeance against Air, not enslavement to Air, which he denied. Houka did betray us by siding with Air against his own race; he enslaved us financially to Air for centuries."

Aang nodded in agreement. "It makes perfect sense," he concluded. "That's certainly what happened."

Azula was quiet for long moments, clearly absorbing everything he had told her. "It all makes so much more sense," she breathed, awed. "There are roots; it was never random."

"Gyatso said that Air and Fire's hatred wasn't of 'this' generation," Aang recalled. "He said it was old and had boiled for centuries. There was never going to be peace or reconciliation. The High Council would never let it happen, and I don't think Fire was willing to forget. The Attack—a war—was always going to happen."

"Indeed. All of this has been building for so many centuries until it exploded with the Great War and Vaatu's return."

"Because Vaatu, at the end of the day, is the source of it all," he explained, weary. "The world—the Realms—are teetering towards the Darkness after being in the Light for so long. The Darkness was always going to rise during the last quarter of my unending reigns, impossible to stop—it would have been the opposite with the Light rising if Vaatu had been the one reigning the last nine thousand years. Everything's gone wrong because it was always going to. And my race's demise was part of it, the most heartbreaking casualty. But they did it to themselves—I see it now. They chose to fall and not pick themselves out of it."

Azula's lips quirked in a mixture of realization and pride. "They were not like you. You said you resembled those on the High Council, and perhaps you did once, but not anymore. You are so much more than them."

"I hope so," he breathed. "They murdered my parents."

Silence.

She stared up at him, stunned. "Parents?" she echoed after several moments.

"Tenzin and Jinora," Aang divulged, swallowing. "Gyatso told me about them. He was friends with them and knew me as a baby. My parents took me and ran. No one but them—and later Gyatso—knew that I was The Avatar because I was born five weeks early, but my parents knew even while my mother was pregnant, only months along—they knew. But when it was discovered by the High Council that I was The Avatar, the Elders stopped at nothing to get me. The High Council spent about two centuries' worth of stockpiled tribute looking for me after I was born. And they found me eventually. They murdered my parents and pulled me from my mother's lifeless arms. I was two years old when it happened."

Azula absorbed the story with care, clearly analyzing and listening. "They sound worthy and wise," she commended. "They sound like Gyatso, strong enough to rebel against the High Council's tyranny."

He felt choked with emotion for several moments before he searched inside his robes until he found what he was looking for; he pulled out the two portraits, sealed in scrolls. "Gyatso said they loved me with all they had," he whispered, voice thick as he gazed at the portrait of himself as a baby with his parents. "I wish I could remember them; I wish I could have known them. They wanted everything for me and paid for it with their lives." He clutched at the portraits for a moment, holding them, emphasizing them. "Gyatso gave these to me. It was a gift—a literal memory. And I want to share it with you."

She was silent, looking overwhelmed because she clearly understood the significance of his act; he was acknowledging her formally as his wife, giving her a trust he would never give anyone else, sharing with her a part of himself that he would never share with anyone else.

To his surprise, Azula's face transformed when she saw the portraits; she looked awed to see mature Air Nomads—his own parents—other than himself or Gyatso. Her eyes roamed his parents, pausing on Tenzin, clearly seeing the resemblance, before she assessed Jinora. But when she looked at the portrait of himself and Gyatso, her eyes brightened with emotion, beginning to mist as she swallowed. "That is how he should be remembered," she whispered, voice soft but insistent—on the verge of a hiss. "Him laughing, living in joy and freedom. This should be the statue at the Southern Temple, not whatever that miscreation is that is there now."

Aang understood but had never had the will to destroy the statue or create a new one. "I know. After all this is over. I'll create a new one. I want your help in making it."

Azula wiped at her eyes subtly, nodding, as she looked back at his parents. "They embody how I always imagined Air Nomads after studying Air's priceless wisdom," she said, surprising him. "When I thought of Air Nomads, I pictured something like them. Perhaps it is because I always thought of you, which reflects them as their son, but there is something in them that draws my eye." She traced her fingertips across his parents' outline in wonder. "There is a strength; there is a might and renown; there is so much warmth and expression; there is trust and joy; and there is a genuineness unlike anything I have seen in portraits of my family. We are all about performance and looking as noble and imposing as possible, but your father and mother seem real, which gives them a nobility beyond anyone else." She glanced up at him with a light in her eyes. "It seems you are royalty, as well, descending from royalty."

He swallowed, staring down at her in awe. "I guess so."

Their eyes remained locked, and the air seemed thicker and heavier—but also more vigorous. "It fits," she said softly, looking back down at the portraits.

"I look happy there, don't I?" he whispered, staring at himself as a baby. "I look peaceful and content; I clearly loved and trusted them."

"As all babies do."

"I'm glad I had it, even if I can't remember."

Azula said nothing, simply gazing at the portrait with him, and he found himself staring at her rather than the portrait, awed by the fact that she seemed to care; she seemed as amazed by it as he did; she stared at his parents, himself as a baby, and Gyatso with eager eyes.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I think I was a cute baby, don't you?"

She smirked up at him. "You were a beautiful baby. What happened?"

Aang laughed. "I'm guessing you were as beautiful as a baby as you are now."

"Zuko always claimed that I was uglier than a turtle duckling, but he was simply jealous," she dismissed, eyes gleaming. "He merely wanted all of Mother and Father's attention for himself. He is a renowned hoarder."

"Well, you hoarded all the beauty between you two," he praised. "There's nothing beautiful about his appearance."

Azula glanced up at him, amused. "Well said, Avatar," she drawled with a curl of her lips. "If I did not know better, I would think you were trying to woo me."

He furrowed his brows, playing along. "Me? I'm nothing more than a simple monk."

"You are so much more."

"Does that make you a nun?"

"I think princess suffices. Regrettably, you are no prince."

He smiled without bitterness. "I think The Avatar will suffice."

"It works for me," she clarified with a brief laugh. "Somehow, we work. The Fire Princess and The Avatar."

"That's the truth, and Air is all about truth," he approved. "I want you; I want all of you. I accept you—I love you. There are no doubts or misgivings anymore. I'm sorry there were for so long, but it's clear; I feel clarity for the first time since I can remember. I understand what freedom means, and what makes me love you so deeply is that you understand what freedom means, too. You knew before I did."

Azula's golden eyes gleamed with emotion. "I am older than you."

"Not anymore," Aang whispered. "I've lived all my years now; my age is no longer missing. I'm over 121 years old. I've always felt old in my spirit—it's always been there."

"I have always seen the weight in your eyes."

"But now it's in my body, too. It matches, and there's no going back. I went back and realized the truth of things; I see What Is and accept it. I've loved you for a long time, and the only time I started thinking about marriage significantly was after we met on Ember Island. And in the time since then, I thought about marriage more than any man to ever live."

Azula laughed slightly. "For you tried to talk yourself out of it."

Aang nodded. "More than you know. But we're married. I married you because I want you—I love you. There's no one I trust more to help me revive Air than you." He shuddered and released a quivering breath. "From what it seems, Sozin was a much better man than most of the monks during our last generations. He loved his race and fought for them, and he reminds me of Gyatso, for both of them possessed will, rebellion, spirit, and intelligence. Gyatso was better, of course."

"Of course," she agreed, but he knew that she meant it; there was no mockery in her voice or eyes.

"I've always been terrified of our children inheriting anything from Sozin, but now I'm not; I'm actually scared that they'll inherit things from the High Council."

Azula looked somber. "I understand."

Aang sighed and gripped her hands. "I'm never going to like Sozin, but I saw him; I looked into his eyes and spoke to him. He was powerless before me, even with the Great Comet endowing him with renowned strength. But I spared them. Yes, I cursed him, but I spared him. I understand now, and I can see what he was as he was. He loved deeply and passionately; he loved Fire with everything he had. If our children inherit that kind of love for us and our family—for the new race we'll create—I will understand. If our children inherit his love and love Air as loyally and fiercely as he loved Fire, I will be overjoyed and not resent its source. I don't know if he was a good man, but he was a great man, and I've realized that Air needs a great man. If we had a great man like him born to us, perhaps we could have saved ourselves with him leading us. Maybe that man was Gyatso, but Gyatso told me he devoted himself to raising me as best he could, not focusing on the others."

"You are that man," she observed with conviction. "Gyatso prepared you for it, and your innate greatness is beyond any man to ever walk this earth."

"The point is—I'm okay," he breathed, staring into her eyes. "I accept you. I love you and all that you are; I love what you are. Sozin doesn't scare me—you don't scare me. I never had a real estimation of my race or of Fire—now I have a balanced one. I want you as my Mother of Air; I want you to be everything that I know you are and are capable of. Besides Gyatso, I've never met someone who intrigues me, fascinates me, challenges me, and loves me like you do; besides him, you are the wisest person I've ever known with a deep, honest intelligence and a mischievous sense of humor. You're actually like him in a lot of ways. You actually keep up with me like him, unlike everyone else."

Azula's lips quirked, golden eyes delighted. "Gyatso would say the same, I imagine."

He laughed and almost kissed her for knowing Gyatso well enough to observe something so true with such accuracy; after a moment, he embraced the impulse and leaned down, bringing his lips to hers. She responded with no hesitation, pulling him closer, lips moving against his. For the first time, he explored her without overwhelming urgency or hysteria consuming him in burning fires. He felt how her body molded against his firmly and complementary, how her lips danced with his, how her tongue teased his, how her hair brushed his hands and flowed through his fingers, and how her breaths supplied him with life, passing from her into him from their harmonized proximity.

"We should not follow this to its logical conclusion," she whispered, pulling back, glancing down at his noticeable erection.

Aang inhaled slowly, calming himself. "Why's that?"

"We have one child on our hands during this; we do not need another."

He nodded, understanding. "We'll wait until you can get some of that preventative tea Zuko told me about."

Azula hummed, promises entering her golden eyes. "I am sure Ba Sing Se will have a supply."

"Or we could have Zuko make it himself," he suggested, hoping she would agree, which meant he could marry her again—as he powerfully wanted to. "I've tasted his tea; it's horrible. Surely if you drank it—of if I drank it—it would prevent life since it tastes like death."

She laughed, and he loved the sound; he had forgotten how much he did. "Only Zuko could brew a tea that makes The Avatar's seed sterile and a daughter of Agni's womb barren."

"Should we ask him?" he asked, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

He failed according to the smirk on Azula's face. "I thought Air Nomads were wise."

Aang frowned, reminded of the obvious. "Air is wise, but the Air Nomads weren't."

Azula closed her eyes. "Forgive me. That was foolish."

"No," he whispered. "We were foolish. You spoke the truth. How is the truth foolish?"

"There can be consequences to speaking the truth."

He thought of his cruel reactions to whenever he heard the truth spoken during his journey. "Only when the listener is insane."

"Indeed," she agreed softly, clearly thinking about her own experience with insanity. "I am relieved we have both come a long way."

"I couldn't have been the Father of Air with how I insane I was, but now I can be."

Something passed over her face—a seriousness that surprised him. "Speaking of children, Samir wants you to be her father."

Aang nodded, recalling Samir calling him 'Daddy' before he left to ambush Vaatu and Ozai—that seemed like a whole lifetime ago. "I know."

She didn't seem surprised by his knowing. "Will you fulfill her longing?"

"I've always planned to," he admitted. "It was just reaching the acceptance part of it that was hard. I love her but hated that I did."

"Due to her imperfection. She tarnished Air's perfection in your eyes."

"Yes. Forever, I thought and felt like I was tarnishing my memory of my race by reviving Air, by choosing to embrace her as a daughter, choosing to embrace her as one of us."

"I know."

"It was that 'perfect' memory I have—had—of them that was never real, only the memories of a child, which are unreliable and confusing. In my mind, they existed as the pinnacle of civilization and enlightenment. I've accepted it—it took a long time. Many people died so I could understand it. But that's just about accepting her as an Air Nomad; it's different for accepting her as my daughter. I know I have to bring back Air, and I know it's a good thing—it's the best thing because I can make us who we are supposed to be—but I wonder if our children, if Samir, can live up to the ideal I have in my mind."

Azula remained quiet for several moments. "No child can live up to a parent's ideal."

Aang closed his eyes. "I really want our children to; I really with Samir to."

Her hand grazed his bearded face with gentle fingers, and her golden eyes were intent. "You will have decades—centuries—with our children, and our children will surpass the old Air Nomads in every way, for you will guide them, and I will temper your expectations. I know the experience of trying to live up to a father's impossible standards."

"You have no expectations of them?"

"I expect them to struggle living up to the legacy of the blood in their veins, living up to the legend of their parents, for we are most legendary; I expect them to rebel and go their own way; I expect them to fight and love. Your memory of your race was always tarnished because it was incomplete. You had twelve years with the Air Nomads of old, some of which you will never remember. Now your memory of them is complete, thanks to Gyatso. So will your memory henceforth be complete as you will have so much more with our children, who will enhance your memory of Air."

"I'll finally get to see the full totality of Air," he realized. "I've seen Water, Earth, and Fire, but not Air—not yet. And Samir will be the first one."

Azula hummed. "She is a charming daughter," she observed with a slight but awed smile on her face that he was certain she was unaware of. "I hope to be a charming mother in turn. What of you? Will you be a charming father?"

He sighed. "I think you're more charming than me."

"Flattery, flattery," she drawled, but she nodded in approval. "Yet, it is true. I did not think I was ready to be a mother, but here I am. What of you?"

Aang thought of Gyatso and his wisdom. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Really?"

Aang stared at Samir, who was frozen in place, eyes wide and mouth hanging open; she wasn't breathing. Azula stood near him while Zuko, Toph, and Ursa stood more at a distance; he didn't mind the audience. "Yes. You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's my offer to you. I want to be your father. I love so much about you. You can think about it if you want."

Silence.

He hesitated, worried at Samir's silence, and crouched low in front of her, bringing them to eye level; she seemed to stare through him, lost in her own mind. "I'm a pretty lousy mentor, but I think I can be a better father. I don't want to pressure you, and I'm sorry if I am, but it's up to you, okay? I'm willing; I'd love to—because I love you. I think you are many wonderful things, and you have the potential to be so much more. I'd like to see you for all my life. I want to watch as you grow and mature; I want to watch as you figure things out; I want to watch as you learn about the world- "

Suddenly, the wind picked up with an insistence that caught him off-guard; though it was weak, he knew its source instantly, which was stronger than anything before—by far. Samir dashed forward in a blur, crashing into his chest. Unprepared, he fell onto his back with a grunt but wrapped his arms around her as she seemed to simultaneously curl into him and squeeze as hard as she could.

"You're my daddy!" she exclaimed, looking up at him with a wild, awed grin, face red, vivid with joy.

Aang laughed. "So, you accept?"

"You're my daddy!"

"Careful," Azula interrupted, shaking her head with fond amusement. "He is still recovering, Samir. You must be gentle."

Samir pouted. "But he's my daddy! He said yes!"

Aang snickered and leaned down. "I think she's just jealous," he whispered into her ear.

She giggled and grasped at him, leaning into his warmth; she seemed to never want to let go. "Mommy doesn't get jealous."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Nuh-uh," she said shaking her head with pride. "I figured it out."

No wonder Azula was so fond of her. "I think she does get jealous," he countered with mock seriousness. "You know why?"

Samir's head tilted, gray eyes curious. "Why?"

"Because she's not an Airbender like us," he whispered, grinning.

"Air's amazing," she whispered back with a laugh. "I don't wanna be a Firebender; I love being an Airbender."

Aang squeezed her and surprised himself by kissing the top of her head. "I'm glad you do, Samir. I'm so happy to know you; I'm so happy to be your father."

Samir settled against his chest, nestling. "Me too. You smell so much better than Toph, Daddy."

Toph cleared her throat. "Don't think that just because Twinkletoes is your dad now that I won't chase you around, Hitchhiker."

Samir giggled as she looked back at Toph. "You can't catch me! I'm an Airbender. And Uncle Zuzu will help. He likes me."

Zuko sighed but glanced at Toph with an evaluative eye. "It's true, Toph. She's my niece. If you upset her, you'll have to answer to the Fire Lord."

Toph blew bangs out of her eyes. "What a suck-up," she muttered, glaring at Samir. "But trust me, Sparky, you don't scare me."

"That's because you haven't seen my face," he said dryly.

Samir gasped. "No, Uncle Zuzu! Your scar's so pretty! It's not scary."

Apparently, Samir had already made a similar declaration as Zuko didn't look surprised, only grateful. "Thanks, Samir."

"You're welcome!"

Toph waved a hand. "I'll take your word for it, Hitchhiker. But, Sparky, even if your face looked like half of a platypus bear egg, you wouldn't scare me. Twinkletoes scares me way more than you."

Azula's brow rose. "And what of me?"

Samir giggled and shook her head. "Nuh-uh, Mommy! You're not scary!"

Aang almost laughed at the disappointed look on Azula's face. "She used to scare me, Samir," he said, squeezing her delicate body gently.

"Nuh-uh," she denied, shaking her head, clearly thinking it was impossible. "Mommy's not scary, Daddy. She's nice and funny."

Azula looked proud at being called funny and glanced at Zuko. "See, Zuzu? I am funny. I always told you so."

Zuko scoffed. "I think you mean weird."

"I am delightful. Right, Samir?"

"Uh-huh!" Samir held an outstretched, seeking hand to Azula, face hopeful. "Come join us, Mommy! We're a family!"

Azula blinked, emotions cycling over her face in such a rapid succession that Aang couldn't discern anything but surprise. Finally, she gracefully accepted Samir's hand and lowered herself next to Aang. Instantly, Samir pulled her as close as she could, gripping the Air garments.

Aang saw Zuko and Ursa watching them with proud expressions on their faces, but he was fascinated by Toph's closed eyes; she looked happy, lips stretching in a relieved smile. But it was nothing compared to the joy inside him. For the first time since he could remember, he felt content as he held onto Samir and Azula in a group hug—his new family and home.

The new Air.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Zuko's mad at me."

Suki laughed slightly, glancing at her. "Oh, I think that's obvious. But I think it's also more than that."

Katara sighed, helping Suki finish packing; they were leaving shortly to fly to Ba Sing Se, and she felt nervous about being so close to Zuko in the saddle. "I told him the truth. I was honest like he was with me."

Having already heard the story, Suki pursed her lips for a moment. "Are you sure you're not jealous? If I found out Sokka laid with a thousand concubines, I'd be pretty jealous—and angry."

She flinched. "I'm a little jealous, but it's not really jealousy. It's more like a heartbreak. How could he do that? How could he stay loyal to me, to the family we would build, after having all those women? And those women were probably beautiful, and they were certainly Fire." Her face twisted. "Only daughters of Fire would ever 'service' the Fire Lord."

Suki nodded, looking sad. "It would be hard."

"But he said that he hasn't 'used' one in over nine months," she recalled, face pinching as she struggled to see a way for everything to work out. "I just don't know, Suki."

"Do you love him?"

Katara nodded. "Yeah. My mastered chakras showed me. Him and I have always had a connection. But I don't think that's enough. How can it be when all these concubines are in his memory? How can it be when he's destroyed Family over and over again, denying it its existence by not having children?"

"I don't think the concubines wanted children, either."

"Then they're as guilty as he is," she pointed out. "None of it makes sense! It's insane! I never thought that Zuko was insane like Azula, but there's clearly a connection. He turned his back on Family over and over again, refusing it. He laid with those concubines but denied the natural conclusion of lying with them, literally killing Family. And it was all intentional—he knew what he was doing because he gave the concubines preventative teas. It's the only thing that makes sense, knowing him as I do."

Suki nodded. "It's like what Sokka says—wanting to have his cake and eat it, too."

"Exactly. What he did was never meant to naturally conclude in Family even though that's its natural conclusion. He just used the concubines for nothing more than satisfying himself because it was all about his lust—he didn't care about what he was doing. He never had it on his mind to produce children by them, the essence of Family. I can't look at him the same way now—I hate it."

"It doesn't seem like he can even look at you now," Suki said softly, watching her with gentle, solemn eyes.

Katara's jaw clenched as she recalled how Zuko acted to her since she said she could never marry him and obviously went too far by saying he would be like Ozai and inflict scars—but on her and their children's hearts, not on their faces. But her hysteria and emotions had been so strong and turbulent that it ripped out of her. And it was a valid question she had to consider because she never imagined him capable of using concubines to murder Family over and over again. What else didn't she know about him?

"He's acting just like he did during the Great Gathering," she whispered, recalling how he treated her after not seeing him for seven years. "And it's like how it was when we first showed up at the Caldera."

Suki's eyes pinched. "I think it's a little worse."

Katara understood. "I know. Now he won't even look at me at all. It's like I don't matter, like I'm nothing to him. There's no evidence he's ever loved me in his life. He might have destroyed the 'foundation' and razed it nothing. He's just apathetic when I'm around—just like he's the Fire Lord! It's not even hatred, which is the difference. When we showed up at the Caldera after we got his letter, it was so clear that he hated us—hated me. Now there's nothing. It's just apathy, which is so much worse." She groaned and placed her face in her hands, heart beating faster. "I hate this. I don't know what to do."

"I don't know what to tell you," Suki said, face twisting in uncertainty. "I've never had to deal with anything like this."

"But Zuko also thinks that I'm weak," she whispered. "He screamed it at me, so I know he meant it. I can't look past that. Why would I?"

"I don't know."

Katara tried to smile. "Just be warned that the trip to Ba Sing Se is going to be awkward."

Suki's smile was more genuine. "I'm aware. I'm sure Toph will keep things interesting."

"Or Azula," she muttered. "She's back in Aang's good graces. That's why he doesn't mind her wearing those Air robes."

"I gathered," Suki said, nodding. "We'll see how it works out. For Aang's sake, I hope it does."

Katara surprised herself by agreeing. "Me too."

"And for what it's worth, I hope you and Zuko can work it out."

"Me too, but I don't see how."

"Me neither."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Can we talk?"

Aang turned around, startled. "We're about to leave," he observed, confused by Sokka's sudden request.

Sokka looked solemn. "It won't take long."

He judged Sokka's seriousness for several moments before nodding; he pulled Samir off his shoulders and sat her down on the ground. "I'll be right back. Help Azul- I mean, Mommy."

Wasn't that going to take some getting used to?

Samir pouted. "Where are you going, Daddy?"

"I have to talk to Sokka."

"Don't take too long—not like last time."

Aang winced, realizing she referred to his three-month absence. "It won't be long. Why don't you make sure everything's tied down in the saddle with Mommy and Suki?"

Samir nodded eagerly. "I can help!" His daughter—his daughter!—dashed towards Appa and tried to use airbending to leap into the saddle but failed; she settled for climbing up Appa's tail and scrambling into the saddle, where Azula and Suki were ensuring that all the supplies were secure.

He followed Sokka out of the clearing and into the forest, giving them privacy. "What is it?" he asked once Sokka paused at a tree, rubbing his fingers across the bark.

Sokka stared at him, eyes roaming his face. "Are we good?"

"What do you mean?"

"Last time that we really talked, you were throwing me around the room like it was nothing."

Aang sighed as he recalled his behavior before leaving for Ba Sing Se; that was so long ago. "I'm not proud of that, but you said something stupid."

Sokka nodded, face surprisingly serious. "Yeah. I can't deny that."

"But I'm sorry for doing that," he continued. "I've had a hard time forgiving like Air teaches, but I want you to know—I forgive you for that. I should have then, but I'm sorry that I didn't."

"I'm guessing it's been pretty hard to live up to those perfect ideals."

He blinked before nodding. "It has. I've failed all my life, but I think I'm starting to get better. I've needed those ideals to look to. That's why I've always loved my race—because they pursued and looked to something marvelous. And they were successful for many generations—until they weren't."

Sokka scrunched his face before exhaling swiftly. "Alright—this is gonna be ugly, but I'm going for it. I know they weren't weak. Well, I've always wondered how they could have been wiped out in a single day, even under Sozin's Comet. The only conclusion I've come to is that they were too weak and stupid to fly away. It's the only thing that makes sense to me. They would have been way faster than the dragons, especially on the sky bison, but they were too weak to do it. But that's not been my problem with them. And I guess that I should have told you that rather than assuming you knew it. What happened to them is a tragedy, and I'm sorry if I ever made you think that I didn't understand that. It's always been a tragedy. But it wasn't until I met you that the Air Nomads became real to me. Knowing you and listening to all the stuff you would talk about, it pissed me off like you wouldn't believe."

Aang only stared at him. "I believe."

Sokka sighed and rubbed his forehead, hesitating. "I'm sorry. It's just that it always pissed me off when you would sprout off all that so-called wisdom. I thought it was a bunch of nonsense, reeking of polardog shit. And it wasn't until you started talking about that fucking pacifism that everything made sense to me. I realized that Air, literally, was too weak and stupid to survive, to last even one day against the Fire Nation. They were too weak to fight back and too stupid to change their philosophies and nonsense. I know I'm pissing you off, but does that make sense?"

"You're not pissing me off," he corrected, shaking his head. "Air teaches that fighting is wrong until it's necessary, and we forgot there's always a point when it's necessary. We should have fought; we should have preserved ourselves."

Sokka hesitated, looking at him strangely. "You're taking this better than I thought you would."

Aang laughed but felt little mirth. "I haven't been who I should be, and I'm sorry that I treated you poorly. I don't think you should have ever said things in that way- "

Sokka winced. "Yeah, I've realized that. I just never thought Air had anything to offer. I've traveled the world and been everywhere. I've seen what Earth and Fire have to offer, but I've never seen that Air has anything to offer. To be honest, I still don't, and that's always been my problem. I'd wonder what's the fucking point of you talking about them like they're gods or something. I would get so pissed off during the Great War when you kept talking about them like they were the best things ever, and it was only Katara's scary eyes that kept me from running my mouth to rip that stupidity to shreds."

"That might have saved your life," he observed distantly, thinking back. "If you ever said anything back then, I wouldn't be ready to hear it. I would break, and hatred would swallow me—because that's all there was, deep down. You never knew how close I was to breaking—I was so close. There wasn't a day where I didn't wonder if I would run out of distractions. That's why I threw myself into training so hard or playing games or doing anything to distract me from what was haunting me, always waiting and lurking, always waiting to possess me."

"I should have seen that," Sokka admitted, ashamed. "I'm sorry that I didn't."

"It's better that you never knew," Aang countered. "I was certainly bitter that none of you had any ideas about it, but if you had, it would have made the distractions less real, which wouldn't have been a good thing."

Sokka was quiet for several moments. "I always knew you could win and defeat Ozai back then—I knew it. But what always scared me was that you would fuck it up because you're an Air Nomad. I thought that innate weakness and stupidity would seize hold of you, which would cost us everything. I always thought our victory had everything to do with The Avatar and nothing to do with you being an Air Nomad. In fact, I thought you won in spite of you being a stupid Air Nomad. That's how I used to think."

Aang watched Sokka's face. "What do you think now?"

He swallowed. "That it was the best thing for you to be an Air Nomad. If you weren't an Air Nomad, I'm fucking sure that you would have killed all of us after waking up in this time. I mean, you're The Avatar. You can do anything, especially after seeing your race's slaughter. If you were a Firebender, your aggression and rage would have possessed you; if you were an Earthbender, your stubbornness and determination for revenge would have possessed you; and if you were a Waterbender, your grief and hysteria over the loss would have possessed you. But none of it did. I don't think any of it ever has, despite what you may think. Because if you ever did become possessed by any of it, this world be gone—I'm fucking sure of it. But I've realized that only an Airbender could have endured all of that and come out of it, literally saving the world by not destroying it. You being an Air Nomad saved all of us; you being of Air saved all of us. You have the strongest strength I've ever seen in my life, way more than anything I've ever heard of, and I just wanted to tell you that. I know we've had a lot of problems, but I'm in awe of you. I'm thankful that you have that amazing strength that belongs to an Air Nomad and no one else. So, thank you for not killing us and instead of saving us. I know none of us made a good impression on you."

Aang swallowed, trying to keep his throat clear of obstructions. "Thanks, Sokka," he whispered. "I don't regret anything I've done—well, that's not true. I feel sick just thinking about Ba Sing Se. But you're right—I should have written you guys a letter in the South after the War; I should have tried harder and done my part."

Sokka sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Maybe. I don't think it would have made much of a difference."

He thought back and nodded, feeling drained; he had been through too much lately. "I think you're right. But you were right—the blame was never only on you. I shouldn't have blamed you and treated you like I did. I assumed so many things that I shouldn't have. We were children, all of us, but especially me. I was still just a young boy whose purpose had ended. Without the distraction of the Great War and the looming threat of Ozai, the truth was all that was left, and I couldn't escape it; all that was left was my hatred, which had always been there, festering and boiling, haunting me, making me feel insane. I was alone in a world that was foreign and wrong, impossible to understand; nothing was ever the same—it couldn't be. I was forced to deal with all of that by myself because you and Katara and Toph weren't there. While you were all at home with your families or living with Bumi and, thus, finding a new family, I was alone. All I had was Appa, Momo, and my past lives for comfort and solace, all while living in the graveyard of my race. You all just left after the Great War with hardly a goodbye; you said that you were going home to the South, but that wasn't my home. I didn't have a home anymore, and none of you seemed to realize that, if not care. The only one who understood that was Zuko, and I think that's because he didn't have a home anymore, either—his family was shattered, leaving only himself. I wanted you and Katara to understand because you said I was part of your family, but you never understood."

Sokka looked old. "No, we didn't," he said, looking past him, inhaling deeply. "I'm sorry that I never made an effort to understand."

"I'm sorry that I never made an effort to understand," he replied, amused slightly. "We all made mistakes. None of us ever spoke about what we were going to do once the War was over, and I think that's how it started. I didn't actually want to talk about the end of the War because I knew the truth would be waiting for me, but we probably should have talked about it. But I realize now that even if you were there with me after the War, it wouldn't have actually changed anything. It only would have been more distractions, probably making it worse in the long run. Somehow it all worked out; the ways things went was the best way. It's What Is."

Sokka laughed in amazement, staring at him in disbelief. "Who are you? You're certainly not the Aang I know."

Aang smiled slightly. "Because I'm not. Part of me died, but I'm still here. I never realized that was a part; I thought it was the whole. Now I'm free from those chains."

"It really is good to see you," Sokka said after several moments, clearing his throat. "I mean that. I know there's been a lot of polardog shit between us, but it's so good to see you. I've missed you."

"It's good to see you, too, Sokka," he said honestly.

Sokka held out his hand. "Are we good?"

Aang clasped it, fingers wrapping around Sokka's forearm. "We're good."

Sokka nodded in relief, eyes closing for several moments before they opened. "Good. That's good. But don't think for a second that I'm not still jealous of your beard."

"I know," he replied with a brief laugh.

"I mean, I never imagined you guys with beards!" Sokka exclaimed, pained. "I thought you were all hairless! Did all the monks have beards?"

Aang smiled. "Gyatso only had a mustache. I don't know why he shaved his beard. But everyone else had beards, yes."

Sokka sagged. "It fits with the wisdom, I guess."

"Something had to."

"What does that mean?"

"We weren't perfect," Aang divulged. "Things aren't as I thought. I'm still learning a lot."

Sokka chuckled and looped his arm across his shoulder, leading him back to Appa. "Welcome to what it's like for us mortals."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Thankfully, the flight to Ba Sing Se was short because it was so awkward! The only ones who seemed carefree and unworried were Samir, Azula, and Ursa—three generations of daughter, mother, and grandmother. She wondered briefly if really counted because Samir wasn't Azula's daughter by blood, but she acted similar enough that it probably counted. Maybe it was the Fire in her blood—she wasn't sure.

Then there was the fact that Ty Lee was always looking at Samir, heart beating faster, something she knew that Azula was certainly aware of. It was clearly the only reason why Ty Lee hadn't introduced herself to Samir or approached her at all, keeping her distance. She had caught Mai watching Samir several times, but it was much more subtle than Ty Lee's blatant staring.

She knew there was something she was missing—something significant—but there were other things on her mind, possessing her attention and energy.

While she knew that Aang, Sokka, Suki, Mai, and Ty Lee were thinking about Ba Sing Se itself, especially Aang, wondering if they would be run out of the city, she didn't share those thoughts. She was worried about seeing Bor and Bumi again after she had run without telling them in the middle of the night. Sure, Bumi had probably felt her leave, but Bumi had never tried to stop her. But Bor had no idea about her plan until he awakened to find her packing, which culminated in her knocking him out, unable to tell him to his face why. Instead, she had told a servant to tell him that she was going to the Fire Nation to see the Fire Lord, but she hadn't even had the guts to tell him the real reason.

But Bor surely figured it out on his own.

By the time Appa landed outside of Ba Sing Se at a safe distance to prevent people from attacking on sight of The Avatar's sky bison, her nerves felt noticeable. She hoped that the others couldn't tell, but she knew by the way Katara was looking at her, something was slipping through her defenses.

Shit!

Instead of discussing it, she helped everyone unpack and quickly said her goodbyes, going over the plan one last time. She would go into Ba Sing Se and reach the palace, having a personal relationship with Bumi that no one else but Aang had. But since Aang was hated, he couldn't appear broadly like she could. Once she reached Bumi, she would tell him what was happening, and he could sneak them into the palace, where they would be safe from all the prying eyes of Ba Sing Se's new citizens.

It was a relief to get away from Zuko and Katara; the tension was almost making her choke on her own insanity, provoked by their insanity! She had no idea what happened. All she knew was that Zuko suddenly changed. He was normal when Katara wasn't around, but whenever Katara approached, appeared, or was heard, he changed; he became like stone, heart slowing down with a chilly precision.

It actually reminded her slightly of Azula during the Great War, although it was certainly different. She never felt scared of Azula during the Great War, but she didn't like being around Zuko when he became all 'Fire Lord,' as Azula observed quietly to her when she asked if there were any clues as to what happened.

But she suspected he resembled Ozai much more than he did Azula, particularly by Azula and Ursa's reactions to him being all 'Fire Lord.'

Just thinking about it gave her a headache, but thinking about Bor made her feel nervous and unlike herself, for she felt no confidence, only worry and anxiety. Not to mention the thought of being in the same room with Bumi after what he did to her and said to her.

It would have been a relief when Ba Sing Se's towering walls approached if it did not signal that she was closer to Bor and Bumi than she had been in over a year. But she squared her shoulders and marched forward, refusing to show any of her anxiety on her face.

When she reached the wall, a group of guards appeared. "Who are you?" one asked.

"You can't tell?" she scoffed, punching her fist into her palm. "I'm Toph. King Bumi and I go way back. I lived with him for a while."

"Are you his mistress?"

No, but she had technically been his grandson's mistress. "That's a funny joke," she said with a tight smile. "Are you a dead man?"

"Of course not- "

"You're about to be if you don't let me in."

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say as the guards shifted into fighting stances, pressuring her back.

Toph didn't feel like making a scene—that's how she knew that she was so worried about seeing Bor again!—and raised her hands in innocence. "Okay, okay—I get it. I'll just go. I don't want trouble. Does that sound good?"

"Don't try anything."

"I wouldn't try anything," she defended.

"You look like you would."

"You look like you're full of shit."

"I was about to say the same about you, Toph."

Despite herself, she respected the main guard, who was doing all the talking. "Alright, alright. I'm leaving. Don't get your heads stuck in your asses looking for me."

Toph left before circling back to far enough where no one could see her, least of all annoying guards. Ensuring she was alone and unseen, she tunneled into Ba Sing Se, driving deep into the catacombs before ascending, timing her appearance just right in the place she wanted to be—all while being unsensed by any Earthbenders.

While it was definitely tricky and took much of her concentration, it didn't take long.

She popped out of the earth into the palace and swiftly repaired any evidence that revealed an intrusion. She began walking, realizing instantly that there were clear changes to Ba Sing Se's palace; it was very similar to Omashu's layout, which ensured it was much more formidable and better structured for war rather than being for show.

Bumi had always said that Ba Sing Se was like a pretty girl—all about appearances with no substance.

Toph walked the new layout, agreeing with the severe changes, before, suddenly, the stone surged up and trapped her; she fought vigorously, but even with her mastered chakras, she couldn't break free.

She knew who it was, and she stilled her heart and tried to remain calm.

"Well, well, well," Bumi's familiar voice cackled with amusement, drifting through the air as his uneven footsteps lumbered toward her. "Look what Death dragged in. You here to assassinate me?"

"We both know I'd fail."

Bumi circled her, and she had no idea what her face was showing or suggesting—she hated it! "I'm too old for games. Why are you here? Frankly, I'm surprised you want to be anywhere near me."

Toph's jaw clenched. "I don't. But I'm not here for you; I'm here for a mutual friend of ours."

"The Fire Lord?"

Not surprised because Bumi knew she went to the Caldera after Zuko's letter arrived, giving her the excuse she needed desperately to leave, she shook her head. "Someone older and closer to your heart—closer to home, if you will."

Bumi was quiet for several moments. "Aang?"

She blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Yep."

"Interesting," Bumi commented, clearly observing her, though she was surprised by his lack of reaction to the fact that Aang sent her. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."

Toph tried to maintain disinterest, but it was difficult—as always—when she was in the presence of someone who intimidated her so much. He was the Fucker of Fire, so much greater than anything she was capable of! "You don't know everything."

Bumi just snorted and released her. "I know why you left. Isn't that enough?"

"Nothing's enough until you're lying in a pool of your own blood," she snapped.

"Your earthbending's stronger," Bumi commended, not taking her obvious bait. "Mastered chakras?"

Toph didn't even try to figure out how Bumi knew about mastered chakras; she had learned long ago that he knew so many things—and had done even more things. "Yep."

Bumi laughed. "Good for you. Didn't think you had it in you."

She grit her teeth. "You've never thought I've had anything in me."

"That's not true," Bumi denied. "I've always thought you had shit in you."

Toph sighed. "Thanks," she drawled. "But only shit?"

"You heard it here first."

Why had she volunteered for this? Right—Aang couldn't do it himself. "Is everyone in the palace loyal to you?"

Bumi's head tilted. "Meaning what?"

"Are they loyal to you or to Ba Sing Se?"

"They all came with me from Omashu. Why?"

"You're going to have a dangerous guest, and their loyalty is needed."

"You're not dangerous, Toph."

She exhaled roughly, growing more and more irritated and frustrated. "Fuck you. I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about Aang."

Bumi laughed briefly. "You were serious?"

"Yes!"

"Aang's wanted nothing to do with me ever since the Great War ended," Bumi said, voice quiet, floating in a stream of sorrow and regret. Toph refused to feel bad for him like she used to—she had learned her lesson. Nearly being killed cured her of all her insanity. "And this is Ba Sing Se. I don't think he wants to return to the scene of his crime."

Toph rolled her eyes. "Why do you think I'm here? He knows he'd be attacked by everyone here but you and those loyal to you. He sent me."

Bumi was quiet, breathing oddly calm. "Why? Why come here? Where is he?"

"He'll answer the 'why,' but he and the others are outside the city at a distance where no one can see them. We flew on Appa. We need you to sneak us into the palace without creating a stir, and we need everyone in the palace to keep the fact that we're here a secret."

"Others?"

Toph counted on her fingers in a list: "The Fire Lord, the Fire Lord's mom, the Fire Princess, the newest Airbender, two Water Princesses, one Water Prince, and two Fire noblewomen—and Appa and Momo."

Bumi's heart stopped for a moment—she actually felt it, astonishing her. "Newest Airbender?" he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

"Yep. Aang adopted her."

Suddenly, faster than she was prepared for, Bumi grabbed her arms and yanked her closer; she gasped, tried to fight his hold, but his strength surpassed her own; his hold over the earth was supreme, no matter how desperately she tried to fight against him—to kill him before he killed her!

But Bumi just stood there, staring at her face. "You're not lying," he breathed, trembling.

Toph tried to escape and managed to wiggle free—because he let her, she knew. "Fucker," she muttered, trying to put distance between them. "Of course, I'm not lying. I'm not a monster—like you."

"How long does he want to stay here?"

"We didn't really talk about that. We're wanting to get allies, and we know there's no stronger ally on the continent than you."

Bumi's head nodded. "The city isn't as populated as it once was; it's only a fraction. But those who are here are more open-minded, yet I wouldn't trust them to know that he's here. They'd be terrified, certain that they'd meet the same fates as those who lived here previously. The fallout was horrible; the clean-up was even worse."

Toph scoffed. "I was here when it happened. I know better than you do."

"I'm happy to have him here," Bumi said distantly, seeming lost in his memories—probably thinking of Aang in better years. "He can stay as long as he needs to."

She nodded, stiff. "Good."

Bumi seemed to assess her, watching her for several long moments; his heartbeat never changed. "You're not going to ask where he is?" Bumi asked, voice softer but stronger simultaneously.

Toph's fists clenched, hating how her heart jumped in recognition; she knew Bumi felt it. "I know where he is."

"And where's that?"

"Up his ass."

"Nope—hasn't been for a while."

"Then he's up yours," she muttered.

Bumi laughed. "I've missed our talks."

She hadn't missed their 'talks' at all in the slightest. "Me too."

"Don't bother lying," Bumi dismissed, unaffected by the fact that she was lying. "But I'm serious. He's not the same. He's matured."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't expect you to. He can tell you himself."

"Then why are you?" she demanded in a hiss. "I don't like you."

Bumi's heart didn't flutter or change in the slightest; it remained constant and steady. She hated him for it—because he made her feel so unsettled like he always had! "What makes you think I like you?"

Toph's jaw clenched. "I know you think it was Bor who ran me off, but it was really you. I could deal with Bor, but I couldn't deal with you anymore."

"You couldn't deal with the fact that you agreed to marry him."

She flinched, shocked that Bor had told him, but if he had been so heartbroken after she fled the night after she said she would marry him, he would turn to Bumi. "I couldn't reject him; I had to say yes. I didn't have a choice."

Bumi snorted. "What a bunch of badgermole shit. There's always a choice. You just didn't like your options and chose the one you thought at the time was more pleasant—as we all do."

Toph's fists clenched. "I didn't tell him to be an idiot and ask to marry me; I didn't tell him to make things so much worse; I didn't tell him to go way too fast; and I didn't tell him to start planning our lives or something."

"I didn't tell Sozin to start the Great War, but it still happened," Bumi sneered in disgust. "I adapted. I never ran like a cunt. I did what I had to do- "

"I did what I had to do!"

"As I did when you tried to ruin everything."

"You threatened me!" she hissed, heart racing. "You said you would kill me if I told him the truth! You said you'd chop off my feet, hands, and breasts to make me a real blind girl—completely undesirable! You crushed me like a fucking shitstain!"

Again, no change in heartbeat. "Then why'd you stay for so long after I threatened you? Four months is a long time."

"I stayed for him."

She would have left much sooner if she had known how stupid Bor was—like his grandfather. But the problem was—she had always known. But she had denied it and tried to ignore what was inevitable, especially with stupid things like love.

Stupid love.

"You would stay as his mistress but not as his wife?"

"That's different."

"Then tell me what I don't understand about a royal court."

Toph sneered. "You wouldn't know royalty if it nestled in your ass-crack!"

"You wouldn't know willpower if it nestled in yours."

She turned away in furious disbelief, hating him. He always got under her skin, intimidating her! "I have willpower, Bumi. I don't care what you think about me, which takes willpower. I stayed for four months after you threatened my life, which takes willpower. And I tell you now to go fuck your dead mom, which takes willpower. I don't tell everyone I've ever encountered since I left about your secret, which takes willpower when all I want to do is scream it at the top of my lungs. I know that you hate me, but I don't care, which takes willpower."

Bumi hummed, fingers tapping against each other in thought. "You're wrong. I've always liked you, Toph. If I hated you at all, you would be dead. And you know I'm not lying. I've just never liked you with him."

Toph shuddered as the memories swarmed her, how terrified she felt as the Fucker of Fire unleashed his power against her, leaving her nothing more than a blind girl. "Don't think this changes anything," she hissed, knowing it might erupt in a fight, but she was prepared! She was ready! And if Bumi almost killed her, she was certain that the commotion would get Aang's attention, causing him to appear, intervening, and saving her life. "I didn't forget what you did—what you said. And I still know the truth. What makes you think I won't tell him what you did? What makes you think I won't tell him how you became the Fucker of Fire only because you were the Fucker of Earth first?"

Bumi snorted. "Because I already told him."

Her eyes widened, astonished. "What?"

"You have the best ears I know—you heard me."

Toph rebelled against the impossible. "No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did," he replied, voice stupidly amused. "He was shocked, and he's still upset about it, but he knows about it. I think he's starting to understand it."

"You threatened my life because you didn't want him to know the truth, but the moment I run off, you go ahead and tell him?"

Bumi shrugged. "It wasn't 'the moment,' but I saw that you were right. I told him the truth when we came to rebuild Ba Sing Se."

Her temper cracked. "You fucking son of a bitch! Are you serious? I've stayed away for over a year because I've been sure that you would fucking kill me if I showed up, and it was for nothing!"

Well, she had also stayed away because Bor was a gigantic fucking idiot, but she was still pissed as Devi!

"It wasn't for nothing," Bumi replied. "I think it was good for you to be away. I would have preferred if you hadn't been away with his heart, but he's learned a lot."

"You're a stupid cunt-face!"

"I've been called worse."

"I'm sure by the royal family you murdered," she hissed.

Bumi's heart slowed so slightly she would have missed it if she weren't so focused. "Probably," he agreed in a whisper, voice far away. "I made a choice, Toph. You don't understand because you've never been faced by a choice like that. But it was my choice, and I would make it again, even though it damns me forever. The only reason we survived the Great War was because of my choice. Earth held strong because of me. You weren't alive and know nothing of what it was like. It was chaos, and we were being pushed back. Fire was unstoppable, led by Sozin himself, razing our territory. We needed a strong king who could fight back, but we had none. I made a choice to change that, and I saved our race from enslavement."

"You just enslaved yourself."

"It was a sacrifice I was willing to make, something you're not intelligent enough to understand."

"I'm not a genius like you are, but I can smell badgermole shit. You've always been full of badgermole shit, Bumi. You slaughtered an entire family to justify stealing Omashu's throne to fight back in the Great War."

Bumi shook his head. "I didn't say it was the right decision; it was a decision that I made, which I have to live with, and I have lived with it. Don't think I don't think about it. I think about it—about them—often. I know it was a crime—I'll never deny it. But it was the only choice I could discern at the time, which is a result of my limitations. I wish there was a better one, but it's what I had. I don't understand why you're so shocked by it."

Toph scoffed. "I'm pissed that you lied to Bor and Anju for so long. Does Anju even know, or is it just Bor?"

"Only Bor," Bumi said after several moments. "He may have written the truth to Anju in a letter since we've been here, but I don't know."

"Your entire claim is based on a lie," Toph spat. "Earth is about history. Our race is built on history. But what have you done? You've wiped away history and supplanted it with your fucking lie! You've had Bor and Anju growing up believing a massive lie—and you knew it the whole time. You're like my fucking parents, controlling everything, pretending to live a life that's badgermole shit and forcing your grandchildren to go along with it!"

Bumi snorted. "Since you're blind, I can't blame you for being so unimaginative, but it's still stupid. How do you think kings appeared in the first place? By doing the exact same thing I did. How did Guron's family hold Omashu's throne for so long? By doing the exact same thing I did. It's the nature of power, which I don't expect you to understand because you've never held power in your life."

Toph's jaw clenched before she smiled coldly. "Then tell Aang about it; tell him what you did—confess your crime."

Silence.

His heartbeat throbbed with something she couldn't decipher. "That's my decision to make," he said at last. "I know you haven't told him already, but remember that."

"He'd never believe me," she admitted, but she knew if she told Azula, Aang might believe it coming from Azula. "But you should tell him. It's the only way I'd believe you."

Bumi snorted. "If you think I've ever cared what you think, I haven't made myself clear."

"You made yourself clear."

"As you did to Bor when you left after saying you'd marry him."

Toph exhaled roughly. "I fucking hate you."

"Whether you believe it or not, everything I've done has been to help you. I do like you, Toph."

"But you don't like me with Bor," she finished with a roll of her eyes, teeth grit. "But how does almost killing me help me at all?"

Bumi's breath released in the air in a soft huff. "You don't have everything figured out—always remember that. You think you know everything based on one side of the story. You have no fucking clue why I did what I did, and you don't know what it was like; you don't know what it took; you don't know what it cost me; and you don't know the penance I've paid for my crimes. I want you to learn. Things are more complex than you think. When you first came to Omashu after the War, you said you wanted me to teach you—that's exactly what I've been doing."

"This isn't what I had in mind."

"It's not about what you have in mind; it's about what the world has in mind for you," Bumi whispered, voice faint, absorbed by memories. "Do you think I wanted to be this? Do you think I actually wanted to be the Fucker of Fire? I didn't want any of it. I wanted a different life—a better life. But it wasn't possible, and this is what I am. I'm sorry that I almost killed you, I really am, but you didn't actually leave me a choice, did you?"

Toph flinched at the reminder, knowing it was true. She had been possessed by the urge to tell Bor the truth, and no matter what Bumi did, short of what he actually did, she would have tried to tell him. "You could have gone about it better."

"Maybe. But I don't think you would have learned anything. Life is living lessons constantly and trying to remember and retain them. Maybe you learned what the Great War actually was, not that weak badgermole shit you played a small part in, since it was so horrible that it pressured me to find a solution in the abominable. Those are the types of lessons I had to learn during the Great War. The fact I want you to find lessons like I did means I do like you."

"But not with Bor."

Bumi shrugged. "Yep."

"Go get him," she said, nodding her head to where she thought Bor was. "Let's get this over with. Aang's antsy, and he wants to see you—not sure why he possibly would."

While Bumi left, she prepared herself—and her heart—to feeling and hearing Bor again. She had to keep him from seeing anything on her face, such as her nervousness or anxiety; she had to keep him from seeing the truth on her face. But she also didn't want to seem cold or distant with him because she still loved him. She had to strike the necessary balance to keep things stable and bearable.

However, when she felt Bor's heartbeat for the first time in over a year, her own heartbeat increased its rhythm. She felt the impulse to straighten her posture and clean her garbs or wash her face—or something! She cared what Bor thought of her, including her appearance, and while there was a part of her annoyed by his continuing hold over her, there was a much bigger part that was relieved.

She still loved him, after all, but what she didn't know was if he still loved her.

He should hate her, but Bor had never exactly done things according to what 'he should' do, especially with being the Fucker of Fire's grandson. Or had breaking his heart finally pushed him to be and act like what 'he should'?

Toph nodded her head, being sure to look at his face when he stopped in front of her with Bumi next to him; her heart refused to slow down—the damn nuisance. "Long time no feel, Bor," she greeted, relieved that her voice was strong and steady. "And here you got Ba Sing Se's throne to look forward to. How times have changed."

"It's good to see you, Toph," Bor replied quietly, heartbeat slowing down. "Grandfather mentioned Avatar Aang is here. Please guide us to where he is. It would be an honor to house him for however long he needs."

She felt her face twist at his soulless but formal response, realizing that things would never be the same; too much had happened, separated by a time before and time after. There was a break that impacted both of them, and though it had impacted her a lot longer than him, he finally registered its presence and played his part.

But did she even want to fix the break?

Toph had no idea.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Aang was surprised by how little anxiety he felt about seeing Bumi again. Usually, when he knew he would see Bumi again, like at the Great Gatherings, he could barely think straight, scared and nervous, wondering how he would measure up in Bumi's old eyes. He had stayed away from Bumi for years, unable to spend time and get to know him again, too distraught by the wrinkled visage rather than the youthful one he remembered and cherished. Old Bumi was never Bumi in his eyes—just a mistake sent to haunt him because the world was evil.

But he felt a fierce and joyous anticipation to see his friend—his friend!—again. He had a lot of time to make up for, and he just hoped that Bumi would be as happy to see him.

It had been far too long since he had seen his old friend.

Azula cocked a brow at him. "Will you sit down?"

His pacing didn't waver. "I can't," he said with an urgency that belied the peace inside him. "I'm seeing Bumi again. I mean, actually seeing him again. I've never seen him since I woke up here; I've only looked at him and feared him, resented him, and grieved him. But he's here, and I'm about to see him again. I need to figure out what to say. I'd tell him I want to ride the mail chutes, but- "

Samir's head tilted. "What are mail chutes, Daddy?"

He recovered from his innate confusion at being called 'Daddy;' he was adjusting much more swiftly. "It was a game Bumi and I used to play."

"It sounds fun!"

"It was," he agreed, grinning. "I'll take you one day."

"Yes! Okay."

"Aang, don't damage your recovery," Katara warned gently but with a hesitancy in her eyes. "If you need to sit, just sit."

He shook his head, glancing at her with a smile—how strange it felt to smile at her again after so long, but it felt nice! "I'm fine, Katara. I'm feeling a lot better." He exaggerated the swing of his arms and rhythm of his legs. "Can't you tell?"

Sokka rolled his eyes. "I can," he mumbled. "All bones and energy—just like when you were as a kid."

"Not as much bones," he stressed. "I'm recovering well; I'm filling back out."

"How can you fill out without eating meat?"

Zuko snorted. "The same way I filled out eating predominantly fireflakes."

Sokka gasped. "Why would you eat fireflakes when you have all the komodo chicken you could want?"

"I like fireflakes."

"And you don't like komodo chicken?" Sokka demanded, aghast, looking like he had heard of a confessed crime. "What's wrong with you?"

Azula smirked. "Many things, I assure you."

Zuko scoffed, glancing at her with an irritated look. "You have the same things wrong with you, you know."

"I married before you did, Zuzu," she drawled, golden eyes amused and light. "I am more loveable than you."

"I think you mean leav-able."

Aang sighed at the reminder of his long absence, though it was undoubtedly worth it. "That was me, not her."

"See?" Azula observed, golden eyes amused. "I am loveable."

Something flashed over Zuko's face, and Aang knew that Katara was on his mind. "And I'm not?"

"I think you're nice, Uncle Zuzu," Samir chirped, snuggling against Azula's side as she looked at everyone fearlessly with innocent eyes. By the way that Ty Lee was watching Samir, Aang reckoned that she knew who Samir's father was—or suspected. "Isn't Uncle Zuzu nice? Tell him."

Mai only spun her knife, silent, while Ty Lee stared at Samir with inquisitive gray eyes; Ursa and Azula both acknowledged Zuko's 'niceness' while Sokka and Suki agreed, but with more of a grumble on Sokka's part; and Katara looked at Zuko with searching eyes, but Zuko didn't even seem to notice, ignoring her completely—like she wasn't there.

But Zuko shook his head with brief amusement. "You all have a lot of work to do on your 'sucking up' abilities. There were some nobles in the Fire Nation would bow and recite an entire annal of devotion to me and my line."

Sokka scoffed. "Like I would ever say any of that nonsense and mean it."

"None of them did, either, because they betrayed me," Zuko pointed out with a disgruntled smirk. "You'd fit right in."

"I don't look like them."

"You're right—you're too ugly."

Sokka pulled Suki closer. "Suki thinks I'm just fine. Right?"

Suki rolled her eyes with a fond look and patted his chest. "It was absolutely Sokka's looks that wooed me. When I first saw him, I couldn't breathe normally for several hours; I thought I was dying."

"Exactly- wait, seriously?"

Katara's grin flashed. "If only Toph were here to tell us that she's lying."

"Sokka's pretty, but not as pretty as Daddy and Uncle Zuzu," Samir declared, sounding like the expert on the topic.

Sokka raised a brow at Samir in challenge. "I think you're wrong."

Samir shook her head solemnly. "Nuh-uh. Daddy is really, really high, and Uncle Zuzu is not as high. But you're really not as high."

"Thanks," Sokka drawled, shaking his head.

"You're welcome!"

Azula smirked. "I happen to agree with her."

Sokka rolled his eyes. "You're biased. Suki has a clear mind rather than a murder-y one, shaped by her time as a Kyoshi Warrior. She totally thinks I'm the best."

"I think I'm the best," Suki corrected with a triumphant smile. "But you're a close second, Sokka."

Sokka nodded immediately. "See? We're awesome, and you're not."

Katara stared at him in wonder. "How did you arrive at that conclusion?"

"Through logic."

Zuko snorted. "Must be some pretty illogical logic."

Sokka waved a hand with a wild grin. "Azula could tell you all about it."

Aang smiled while Azula raised a curious brow. "Was that supposed to offend me?"

"It was supposed to make you stew in helpless displeasure, trapped in your own illogical logic."

"You're silly!" Samir declared, pointing at Sokka with a giggle.

Katara smiled fondly at Samir. "Oh, I like you, Samir—you're absolutely right!"

Samir beamed. "Thanks!"

Aang opened his mouth to interject but paused as he felt three Earthbenders, one of whom was very familiar to him, approach under the ground. He motioned for the others to prepare themselves, and silence befell them all as everyone stood to their feet, waiting for the inevitable.

The silence was pierced swiftly when Toph, Bumi, and a young man—an ugly man—burst through the ground almost simultaneously.

Bumi looked at him instantly and blinked for several moments before a wry grin crossed his face. "What do you call a monk with hair?"

Aang blinked back, unprepared for the question. "An Air Nomad?"

Bumi cackled. "A Hair Nomad!"

Sokka groaned. "Son of a bitch! Why didn't I think of that?"

Aang laughed and slammed into his old friend with a fierce hug, squeezing tightly. "It's so good to see you, Bumi."

Bumi squeezed him back with noticeably less strength. "I can tell you actually mean it this time."

His eyes closed at the truth, pained and ashamed that Bumi always knew how uncomfortable he had always felt around him since the Iceberg. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry—don't," Bumi said pulling back with a gentle look on his face, shining in his lopsided, almost maniacal eyes; it soothed whatever residing stubborn anxiety he had felt. "Just be you—it's all I've ever wanted."

"But I am sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry it took so long—in every way."

Deep emotions passed over Bumi's face before he swallowed; his lopsided eyes misted, blinking rapidly to clear them. He grunted, composing himself, clearly aware of the audience, and reached up and yanked at Aang's beard kindly. "What's this? You really are a Hair Nomad."

"Stop rubbing it in!" Sokka exclaimed. "We get it—you thought of something clever!"

Aang ignored him and grinned. "It won't stop growing. What else am I supposed to do?"

Bumi chuckled. "I used to say the same thing about my children. 'They won't stop growing. What else am I supposed to do but feed them?'"

"You're old like Guru Pathik!"

Aang whirled around and saw Samir staring at Bumi with awe in her eyes. "That wasn't very nice," he said, defending Bumi, grieved that Bumi was so old. He accepted it at last, but he was still saddened by it.

Bumi laughed and waved him off; he approached Samir with curiosity, clearly recognizing the Air garbs she wore. When he saw the gray eyes, a strangled gasp erupted as he glanced at Toph for the briefest moment before crouching in front of Samir with the agility and fluidity of a much younger man. "Well, I'll be," he breathed, awed, staring at Samir in astonishment, unaware of the tears spilling out of his eyes. "You're an Airbender."

Samir nodded proudly, unashamed; she wiggled away from Azula and swirled her arms, emphasizing the vibrant colors; in response, the wind picked up minimally—so minimal that only someone like him could sense it, but it seemed like Bumi was aware of it by the overwhelmed expression on his face.

Aang was just relieved that she was getting better, no matter how painfully slow it was.

"Uh-huh!" Samir exclaimed with enthusiasm. "I'm an Airbender! I'm an Air Nomad, too!"

Bumi wiped at his eyes, staring at Samir with a kind, soft smile; it belied the imprinted harshness set in the deep wrinkles of his face. "Yes, you are. My name's Bumi. What's yours?"

"I'm Samir."

"Samir, you have given this old man the greatest gift. How can I thank you?"

Samir's face puckered for several moments, clearly thinking deeply before she grinned, face flushing in delight. "I wanna do the mail chutes!"

Bumi's laughter erupted in the air as he glanced at Aang fondly. "She's a true Airbender."

Aang smiled. "She is. She's also my daughter. I adopted her."

"She's also a Hair Nomad, too!" Bumi said, reaching out and holding his hand up; Samir slapped it in recognition for a high-five. "You're not going to go bald, are you, Samir?"

Samir giggled. "Nuh-uh! I like my hair! I have nice hair—like Mommy."

Bumi's eyebrows rose high as he finally seemed to register that Azula wore Air's garbs. "Mommy," he observed, lips quirking as he clearly took in her appearance. "That's interesting."

Azula raised an eyebrow at Bumi in turn. "Do you recognize who I am?"

"Should I?" Bumi asked mischievously, lopsided eyes sparkling in the dimming sunlight. "Is there anything memorable about you beyond your appearance?"

"I guarantee there is."

"I agree. There'd have to be to catch Aang's eye. If I had known I was meeting a princess today, I would have worn a better robe."

Azula smirked. "I think what you have on is fine, Scourge of Fire."

Bumi shook his head with a grin. "You are too kind, Princess Azula. But I must say—you're even lovelier than the stories I've heard. Had I known that Aang's extensive efforts to keep you safe after the War would make you look at him fondly, I'd have done it myself! I'd have whisked you away for myself, no matter the Fire Lord's decree."

"That would be a declaration of war," Azula pointed out, amused.

"And many would die in that war," Bumi lamented. "Because I'd never give you up; I'd let the continent drown under a tide of blood to keep you with me."

"Most romantic."

"I know. So many men on both sides would die because of your beauty."

Azula looked proud while Zuko rolled his eyes. "Then it is a good thing The Avatar whisked me away, not you."

Bumi winked. "Absolutely. Something tells me he's more competent than me, even though he's old like I am."

"I help keep him young," she assured, laughing genuinely. "I think that you and I will get along fabulously, King Bumi."

Looking at their two smiles, Aang felt wary of the stunts that the two of them could pull off together.

"Just Bumi, and I know you do," Bumi agreed with a laugh as he finally looked toward the others, and Aang followed, finally seeing the young man Bumi brought with him. The young man was not beautiful or handsome at all; he was far less than average in appearance, possessing nothing remarkable or enticing; he was ugly. But there was a resemblance to Bumi in the eye color and overall face shape—but nothing more. He wasn't the only one who had noticed the young man's—Bumi's obvious grandson—ugly appearance as Sokka, Mai, and Ty Lee all watched him with brows raised. Aang knew he wasn't the only one who noticed how Toph pointedly stood far away from Bor, positioning her body differently; she was tense, and her face was tight, lips pursed.

"I'm Bor," Bumi's grandson introduced, locking eyes with Aang as he bowed, falling to his knees, seeming to tremble in excitement; his ugly face was flushed with awe, eyes seeming to burst. "It's an honor, Avatar Aang. Grandfather has told me so many things about you. I was raised on his stories about you."

Aang bowed back. "Thank you, Bor. I'm sure you and I will create memories, too. You can tell those stories to your children."

"I will, Avatar Aang."

"Just Aang."

"Bor will take Ba Sing Se's throne once I deem him fit," Bumi explained, nodding his head. "He'll be a good king."

Bor stood straighter, glancing at Toph for a small moment, which Aang knew he wasn't the only one who noticed. "Thank you, Grandfather."

"But that's not surprising," Bumi assured. "He was always going to be a good king. What is surprising is your new friends, Aang." Bumi's eyes locked on Mai, brows furrowing. "This is unexpected. I never thought that I would be in the presence of the daughter of the man who tried to steal Omashu from me and name it New Ozai."

"I never thought that you would still be alive," Mai countered dryly, raising a brow.

Bumi cackled. "Oh, I like you, blunt and straight to the point! For a noblewoman, you're nothing like those pretentious wusses!"

Ty Lee smiled and glanced at Mai. "King Bumi, if you keep it up, you'll make Mai blush."

"Not like you're making me blush!" Bumi retorted turning to Ty Lee with a charming grin. "Look at you! If I didn't know you were the acrobat I heard about, I'd think you were a princess, too!"

"You flatter me, King Bumi," Ty Lee gushed, lips stretching. It was the first genuine smile Aang had seen on her face since he had met her. "But I must insist I hear no more of it. An acrobat must never have a big head."

Bumi snorted but nodded in approval and turned to Ursa and raised a brow in intrigue. "You're the Dowager Fire Lady."

Ursa looked impressed by Bumi's knowledge of Fire's titles. "Your eyes are as strong as your earthbending, King Bumi."

"I must say you're very beautiful," Bumi praised with a crooked grin. "No wonder your daughter is so remarkable. She clearly came from an equally if not more remarkable woman. I could write songs about your beauty—I just might. I think I just found what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. Once Bor becomes king, I'll devote myself to my new occupation—a poet to sing about the Dowager Fire Lady's renowned, noble beauty. I would marry you right now if I knew you'd say yes. You are most beautiful, and I wouldn't mind the company—and it'd be a good alliance for your son, too. Certainly much more beneficial than that stupid alliance Kuei kept trying to pull with his niece."

Zuko stared at Bumi in pained disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"I'm never not serious about beautiful women," Bumi defended.

"She's my mother."

"Who is a beautiful woman- "

Zuko closed his eyes with a deep groan. "Just keep me out of it."

Ursa laughed graciously and waved a hand. "Your exploits are legendary, King Bumi, but I must decline your generous offer."

"I understand," Bumi said with a wink, but something on his face alerted Aang that he knew why Ursa would never accept his offer—she loved Ozai. "Message me if you ever change your mind. I would fight for the honor of your hand."

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's a terrifying thought."

Bumi smiled but became more serious, staring at Zuko, nodding his head in respect. "It's an honor to have the Fire Lord visit Ba Sing Se."

"An honor to be here, King Bumi," Zuko responded quickly in formality; he seemed much more comfortable than hearing Bumi offer to marry his mother. "Thank you for allowing us passage into the city."

"Please," Bumi dismissed with a snort. "I'm not like Kuei. You know that."

"I do, which is why I'd never mind an alliance with you, even if that alliance's form nauseates me."

Bumi inclined his head before turning finally to Katara, Sokka, and Suki; he cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "No introductions needed. I saw you all at the last Great Gathering."

Sokka's eyes narrowed. "You saw Zuko, too, but you just introduced yourself to him. Are we not good enough for you or something?"

Katara rolled her eyes and stepped forward and smiled. "Bumi, it's good to see you again. We wish it was under better circumstances."

"You, too, Katara. Not sure it could be much worse," Bumi said in consideration.

Sokka scoffed. "Sure it could. We could all be dead."

Bumi chuckled. "Alright. You just earned yourself a formal greeting."

"Thank you!"

"It's an honor to have the Water Prince visit Ba Sing Se."

Sokka nodded. "The honor's all mine, King Bumi."

Bumi turned to Suki and smiled. "Since you're married, Princess Suki, I'll spare you my charms, but don't ever think it's because you're not beautiful."

Suki smirked. "Believe me, I would never think that."

Bumi laughed and inclined his head. "It's an honor to have one of Water's princesses visit Ba Sing Se."

"Thank you, King Bumi."

Samir tugged on his hand, and Aang looked down; her gray eyes peered up at him. "I'm hungry," she whispered—or tried to. It wasn't a real whisper since everyone heard it.

Bumi whirled and clapped his hands. "I bet you are, Samir! Come on—I'll get us all fed. I'm hungry, too. I assume everyone else is."

"Are you insane?" Sokka exclaimed, eyes wide. "Well, actually, I think that you are- "

"Sokka!" Suki smacked her husband's arm. "Don't say that! We must be diplomatic."

"Oh, sorry," Sokka said, not sounding or looking apologetic at all; Bumi looked like he respected him for it. "Of course, we're all hungry. Lead the way, King of Ba Sing Se! Look at that—I could be a poet, too."

Bumi snorted but waved his hand, gesturing for them all to follow him. "Follow me—you, too, Appa and Momo. Bring everything you brought with you. I'll have rooms for you, and the chefs will make a welcoming meal."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Azula felt a pervading sense of awe, which refused to leave her; in fact, the more she thought about it, spending energy trying to decipher it, the more awe she felt, making her feel breathless and overwhelmed.

Things had worked out.

She was still married, and based on Aang's miraculous journey in meeting Gyatso and seeing the monumental truth of What Was and What Is, they would stay married for the rest of their lives—for he accepted and loved her without shame. It was an unthinkable change based on his previous behavior; it was a monumental revolution in his thinking and understanding; it was a stunning reversal compared to his outlook and treatment of her, even before their marriage. Ever since Ba Sing Se, something had changed within him—she had felt it. But it was not until she read Aang's honest letter to Gyatso that she realized what happened. He had reverted back to the man he was prior to his vacation to Ember Island—before he met her. All the layers he wrapped around himself vanished, revealing his nature, which was ugly, bitter, hateful, and dark.

But as she watched him interact with the others, especially King Bumi, at the dinner table in Ba Sing Se's throne room, raised by King Bumi himself, she marveled at him, amazed; she was clearly not the only one as Katara stared at Aang with such relief and joy that Azula could only feel similarly. She realized, again, that Aang's layers had vanished, revealing his true nature—joyful, kind, and intelligent. Every form he had taken on in his quest to survive in an unholy world without Air had faded under his intensive struggles, culminating in his miraculous recovery in understanding and of freedom.

She thought Aang could never surprise her again after fleeing like he did in hatred and disgust after their marriage, but she was more surprised by him than ever before. He had surprised her on Ember Island with how patient and kind he was, mixing enticingly with his cunning mischief and powerful intelligence; he had surprised her with his formidable, resilient bearing, so attractively different from the boy she encountered during the Great War; he had surprised her with his willingness to forgive her for her crimes; he had surprised her with his actions at Ba Sing Se; he had surprised her in his transformation after Ba Sing Se; he had surprised her with his distrust of her nomination for Mother of Air; he had surprised her with his obvious disgust and hatred for her blood; he had surprised her with his cruel treatment of Samir, out of whom he expected the impossible; he had surprised her with his aversion for Pathik; he had surprised her by wanting to take the fight to Vaatu and Father; he had surprised her by laboring over her dead body for a month as he pulled her spirit back; he had surprised her by marrying her upon her return; and he had surprised her by running off after their marriage with hatred visible on his face, gray eyes seething in disgust.

But now she was more surprised than ever before, for his change was remarkable and noticeable visibly; his bearing was different. He looked different, carrying himself with a light sway, gliding everywhere he went; his voice was different, not as tight and constrained, a symptom of the perpetual effort in restraining himself from screaming his fury and hatred at anyone and everyone, all born in an evil time; his smile was different, for it was a real smile, loosened from its rigid reserves; and his laugh was different, ringing through the air clearly with health and genuine vigor, no longer wavering or darkening in discord.

It was a miracle that she never imagined, even with her abundant intelligence, but upon learning the source of his change, it all made sense. She owed it to the man who she considered more of a father than Father, however shortly she had known him. Although Aang took the titanic, audacious initiative to use the Tree in ways no mortal could ever conceive, it was Gyatso who helped fulfill the journey, guiding Aang as he always had. Aang had seen Gyatso—seen his father! He lived in the world that was his world again! He had seen everything he missed! He saw the faces he dreamed of and heard the voices lost to the winds! He fulfilled all his deepest longings and desired! He lived in a perfect world—until he realized it was equally if not more imperfect than the world he had awakened in after a century of war.

He learned the truth of Air, beckoned by Gyatso's patience and wisdom, which she knew firsthand; he learned of his race's crimes, which she never knew of but did not surprise her in the slightest; he learned of Air's fall in which Air was victims of themselves, not Sozin; he learned—or relearned—Air's ancient wisdom of being the leaf in the wind; he learned the truth about Fire's motivations and the Great War's culmination of ancient feuds and strife; he learned of his parents, who he resembled in unique ways; he learned about Gyatso's nature and experiences; he learned of the High Council's tyranny; he learned everything he never knew he needed, all guided by his honest intelligence and Gyatso's gentle guidance.

It left her awed. It was not the fact that he went back, though it impressed her beyond measured; it was the fact that he experienced another lifetime, obtaining everything he ever wanted, and recognized the truth of things and accepted What Is.

He was the greatest man to ever live.

Azula spent a lot of time—most of her time—watching Aang since his return, trying to process the radical changes—and she knew that she was not the only one, though she was the only one who understood how radical it was, even beyond Toph.

Gone was the hate-filled man who shimmered into being after Ba Sing Se, bursting out of his protective layer crafted by Ember Island; gone was the bitter and resentful man who terrorized the world with his apathy and disregard, which everyone felt on some level, whether spiritual or emotional; gone was the man who wanted the world to die, including everyone in it, all born in an evil time; gone was the man who courted grim horror and honored malice; gone was the man who propagated moral terror and wished destruction to befall anyone who gazed upon him, for he wanted no one but his vanished, forgotten race to gaze upon him; gone was the man who basked in hatred and found purpose in its icy fingers, like the very depths in which he slept for a century; gone was the man whose powerful genius focused on the impossible; gone was the man obsessed with purity and was unforgiving towards compromise; gone was the man who made her dread.

In his place, she saw a new man, though one she had suspected to exist, hidden beneath rotting, reeking layers of hatred, bitterness, incomprehension, and malice.

She had seen hints of him during their time on Ember Island, but now she finally saw him, and still, she loved him—she might love him deeper than previously. While she loved his hatred and always would, for his hatred saved his life and brought them together, she would always fear it, for she knew the depths of that hatred, attested to in his heartfelt, real, and raw letter to Gyatso in which he confessed of his dark thoughts with a chilling accuracy and haunting precision.

But she no longer saw his hatred—nor did she feel its presence. She knew it existed still and would forever, but it was dormant rather than alive, shrieking its power and potency.

Azula continued to watch him, intermittently glancing at Samir to ensure that she was safe and attended to or busy, imprinting in her mind how he interacted with King Bumi; his laughter rang in the air, and his gray eyes, though possessing innate storms, were brighter, and she swore she saw living lightning burn in the depths, alighting his face with joy and genuine contentment—there was peace and freedom, things she never thought he would ever obtain.

Gyatso had told her when she encountered him in her limbo, and while she had believed him, there had been a deep part of her that doubted she would live to see it—but there Aang was, peaceful and free. It was miraculous! It was a change worthy of a man and not a god, for gods never changed, but Aang revealed he was a man like any other.

He was the greatest man she had ever encountered or heard of—she was proud to love him. She wanted to show him how great she thought he was—she wanted to marry him again. Unfortunately, they had not laid together since his return, but she expected to rectify that intolerable neglect, albeit understandable since he was recovering, upon their turning in for the night. When King Bumi had guided them to the palace underneath the city, she had left briefly to one of the shops near the palace after; she had bought a large supply of preventative teas.

"Are you still technically King of Omashu?" Aang asked, sitting in the place of honor beside King Bumi; on Aang's other side sat Prince Bor. Azula was content to sit farther away from Aang with Samir, for it provided her an excellent vantage to watch and marvel at him. "Or did you pass the throne- "

King Bumi chortled and chewed on a piece of lettuce. "My granddaughter's queen now. Her name's Anju."

Aang's brows rose. "You named an heir? It doesn't really seem like your style."

"I know why you think that," King Bumi said with a brief cackle, his unnerving lopsided eyes glowing green like emeralds. "But kingship is different. Without an heir, no king rules; he just holds the throne with his ass."

Azula glanced at Zuko, who stubbornly showed no emotion; she looked to Katara briefly, seeing her mimicking her brother's behavior, thought much less successfully. Whatever Katara said to Zuko, though she had her suspicions, had provoked Zuko to manifest his powerful resemblance in temperament to Father, which annoyed her.

Something passed over Aang's face. "But your father wasn't king; you weren't a prince. Is that what happened to your predecessor? He didn't have an heir?"

King Bumi's eyes darted to Samir before glancing at Toph; he sighed and shook his head. "We'll talk about it later. But in Omashu, there is a tradition where anyone can challenge the king for the throne. You can issue your own claim."

A light sneer was on Toph's face, surprising Azula—she was not the only one. "Is that what you did, Bumi?"

"I tried to, but my predecessor wouldn't accept," King Bumi answered, voice solemn.

Toph blinked, a haunted realization crossing through her features. "Oh."

King Bumi smiled at Aang, though it was more a grimace. "Anju was answerable to the tradition like all to sit on the throne before her."

"And she won?" Aang guessed, chewing on a piece of lettuce that he had plucked off of King Bumi's plate. "She was challenged, right?"

"She was challenged by several arrogant Earthbenders for the throne, but she swiftly dealt with those posers. It was really fun to watch, actually; she made me proud."

"It was amazing to see," Bor finally spoke, and his eyes were focused on Toph. "In fact, Anju used a move that Toph had shown her to seal her victory."

"Good for her," Toph responded flatly, looking down.

Was Bor the 'boy' Toph had referenced during their time at the Eastern Temple?

"Your bloodline is in charge of half the Earth Kingdom," Azula pointed out. "If you achieve dominion over Zaofu and Chyung, you will equal the Fire Lord in power."

Aang scoffed, face twisting. "That was Kuei's plan. He wanted to be the King of Earth to equal the sole Lord of Fire."

King Bumi laughed. "Like he could have ever pulled it off. He could have taken Zaofu and Chyung, but he would never gotten me. I would have put him back in his place."

Zuko raised his chalice. "I hope you mean places—scattering parts of him everywhere."

"I knew I always liked you, Fire Lord," King Bumi commended. "That's exactly what I mean. The world's a better place without Kuei in it—I'll drink to it forever."

"I'll beat you to it," Zuko said and downed his chalice's contents in one large swig. He swallowed and placed it back on the table before he stood to his feet. "With nice thoughts now in my head, I'm going to bed. I have not slept well lately."

Various 'goodnights' echoed while Azula inclined her head, though she watched Katara momentarily, who kept her head down, face directed stubbornly at her meal. "Sweet dreams, Zuzu," she said.

Samir nodded eagerly, though exhaustion was clear on her face. "Goodnight, Uncle Zuzu. If you tell your war story, you'll go to sleep really fast. Just do that!"

Azula hid a smile, though she felt it failing based on the way Aang looked at her, while Zuko glanced at Samir in confusion. "What?"

"Go," she urged, trying to keep Samir from observing the distressing but amusing news that Zuko was a horrid storyteller. "Sleep well."

Zuko nodded and shrugged but paused as Mother leaned over and whispered something in his ear with a loving pat to his bearded cheek. He nodded, smiling slightly, and kissed the side of her head before he left, not once looking in Katara's direction, and based on Katara's tight posture, the rejection stung.

"I think Uncle Zuzu has the right idea," Aang said, amused as he nodded at Samir's yawning face.

Samir shook her head, eyes hazy, but her face was admirably stubborn. "I'm not tired."

Sokka snorted. "Good luck, kid. I always tried that, and Katara would just lecture me until I actually fell asleep."

Katara glared at him, half-hearted. "That was Gran-gran."

"Same thing," Sokka dismissed. "You'd just sit there and nod along with everything she said. You're such a suck-up."

"You always want to sleep, Samir," King Bumi advised. "I wish I had slept more when I was younger."

"Is that why you're so old?" Samir asked, curious, head tilting. "Because you didn't sleep?"

Aang and Sokka laughed while King Bumi's lopsided eyes sparkled with amusement. "Something like that. You don't want to get old like me, do you?"

Something horrified crossed Samir's face. "Nuh-uh! No!"

"Then you need to sleep well while you can," King Bumi concluded with a wink at Azula, no doubt thinking he was helping—he probably was, in fact. "A night's rest keeps you looking your best."

Aang grinned, nodding at Samir. "It's true, Samir. I slept for a century and didn't age a day."

Azula was shocked by his good mood in referencing something so contextually volatile while Samir gaped at him. "Really?"

"Yep," Aang confirmed, grin not wavering at all; in fact, it stretched. "I started sleeping at twelve, and when I woke up a century later, I still looked twelve."

Samir scrambled out of her seat and tugged on Azula's hand. "Come on, Mommy! I need a story so I can sleep! Hurry!"

Azula shook her head but followed Samir's urging, wishing everyone a good night's rest; she only meant it for Aang, Mother, Toph, and King Bumi. Aang followed her out and sounded much more enthusiastic and genuine in his 'goodnights.' When they reached their rooms—one room for her and Aang, and another one for Samir, directly attached to her and Aang's room, separated by a door—Samir huddled against her as Aang ushered them in.

"I wanna hear about Gyatso again," Samir whispered. "A new story."

Aang paused and glanced at Samir before his gray eyes rose to meet hers. "Gyatso?"

Azula nodded. "I told her a story about her grandfather."

Samir looked up at Aang with pleading gray eyes. "Can you tell me about Gyatso? Please?"

He immediately picked Samir up and placed her in her bed, excited. "Absolutely. What do you want to know?"

"I wanna hear a story. Mommy told a story."

Azula sat next to Aang on the bed. "It was about how Gyatso compiled a secret stash of fruit pies- "

Aang glanced at her, startled—and awed. "He told you about that?"

"He did, and I told a story about it for Samir," she explained, feeling proud that she shared an intimate knowledge with Aang—the only one who knew the truth of Gyatso's fondness for fruit pies. "You need to tell a similar story."

Samir nodded, gray eyes blinking with slow precision; she was trying to stay awake. "Please, Daddy?"

Aang was quiet for long moments, clearly thinking rapidly for a story to tell Samir. Finally, he began, voice soft and gray eyes far away. "When Gyatso was young, he liked to travel the world; he wanted to make friendships everywhere he went because friendship is the root of all love, and Air is all about friendship. He spread love and connection, living as a true Air Nomad, not living under the tricks of a council of fools. You see, Samir, this council of fools was called the High Council, and everyone listened to the High Council—everyone but Gyatso."

"Why?"

"Because the High Council was wrong," Aang explained, voice stronger but still soft. "The High Council wanted there to be no friendships; they wanted to limit the love in the world because they wanted to control everyone, hating anyone who disagreed with them and dared think differently. They wanted to tell Air Nomads how to live their lives; they wanted to manage their lives. And no one challenged them for many years—many lifetimes. Their control grew stronger, tightening like a fist." He held up his hand and slowly curled his fingers into a tight fist, showing Samir. "The High Council strangled Air of its essence—of its roots. The High Council severed all that we are and tried to replace it with something false and wrong. We let it happen because everyone accepted it; there were no challenges to the High Council—until Gyatso, because Gyatso was the only one who rebelled. Gyatso was very rebellious, and he knew that the High Council was wrong—so, so wrong. He couldn't stop them because they were too powerful, but he made sure to never trust them. He walked his own path; he went his own way. He didn't trust the High Council's so-called wisdom; rather, he trusted the wisdom inside him that was always there when he looked for it, which he always did. He looked inside for answers rather than outside; he found freedom and loved it forever."

Samir snuggled into her pillow, peering up at Aang. "What did he do?"

Aang smiled distantly. "He did what he wanted to do, not what the High Council wanted him to do. He traveled everywhere. He went to the South to go penguin-sledding, and he treated the penguins so kindly that the penguins never told on him to anyone."

"Penguins don't talk!" Samir giggled, twisting slightly. "Animals don't talk!"

"Animals talked to Gyatso," Aang replied, gray eyes sparkling. "There was nothing he didn't know. He heard the world and all the languages, including the animal languages. He traveled to Fire's islands and made friends there, playing games and spreading cheer, wisdom, and kindness; he went to Earth's continent and visited with everyone who would visit with him. He loved living his life and showed others how to do the same; he pointed everyone toward freedom, love, and wisdom; he pointed everyone toward What Is because he understood the world better than anyone around him. You see, Samir, Gyatso could have conquered the world; his power and persuasion were greater than anyone's. He could have smacked aside anyone who fought him, anyone who challenged him if he wanted to. I think he could have beat the High Council if he really wanted to and had nothing to lose. He was the strongest Airbender in the world, capable of incredible violence—but he chose a different path. He made a choice. He saw what he could have if he pursued power to conquer the world, and he didn't want anything to do with it—it disgusted him because he saw it for it was. He saw that conquering is enslaving, not of others but yourself. Gyatso loved freedom and never enslaved himself to anything, least of all conquering. He made the choice to live and let others live, too; he let people be, a literal act of love because Gyatso believed in love and freedom. His friendships lasted his entire life, and there was no one but the High Council who ever had a bad thing to say about him."

Samir blinked slowly, trying to stay awake. "Because the High Council's bad."

"Right," he confirmed. "When he was older, he met two other Air Nomads who thought like he did; they were rebellious and didn't like the High Council, either. They were a married couple, a powerful monk and nun who were unlike any of the other monks and nuns; they were nomadic and lived their lives according to their own sense rather than the High Council's will. He must have been like a father to them because he loved them deeply, and they loved him, too. He showed them around the world while they taught him a lot about the world, showing him the way things are. They taught him Air's truth, putting into words the feelings that had always gnawed at him but could never say. They were brilliant people, and Gyatso was the only one who understood their brilliance and was able to keep up with them. But the monk and nun had a baby son who was in trouble."

"Really?" Samir gasped, seeming more awake while Azula listened with profound interest, suspecting what real events had inspired Aang's bedtime story.

Aang nodded, gray eyes bright. "Yes. The High Council wanted to take their baby son from them; they wanted to use their baby son as a weapon to direct at whom they pleased. The High Council didn't love their baby son like they did; the High Council didn't love their baby son at all. The High Council only cared about using and hurting their baby son and controlling him like everyone else, forcing him to live and act the way the High Council wanted."

Samir's face puckered in indignation. "That's mean! The High Council's stupid!"

Azula kept quiet as Aang laughed slightly. "Very stupid, Samir—the High Council was very stupid. But the High Council couldn't see their stupidity. The High Council hunted for the monk and nun's son, sending many bounty hunters after them—to capture and kill. But the monk and nun escaped with Gyatso's help, and Gyatso helped them for years, confusing the High Council by leading them on a different trail; he sabotaged all the High Council's efforts for years, helping his friends, spreading love and freedom. But the High Council found them, and Gyatso was hurt in the attack, unable to stop it. The monk and nun died, leaving behind their young son of two years old. The High Council took that boy and tried to control him, but Gyatso never let them; he fought for that boy and, when it was clear no one else could handle it, raised him well with decency, love, kindness, patience, and wisdom. That boy was me."

Her breathing stalled momentarily at the confirmation while Samir's eyes bulged. "Really?" she whispered.

Aang nodded and pulled out the two portraits that Azula had already seen; Samir had not seen them yet. "Yes. I want to show you something. This is me with my parents, Tenzin and Jinora; the other is me with Gyatso."

Samir didn't reach out to grab them, only stared, mesmerized, by the portraits Aang held out to her, positioned for her gray eyes to absorb and remember. Her eyes roamed, going to and fro, back and forth, over and over again, never blinking; she looked awed to see other Air Nomads besides her or Aang—Airbenders of and from Air, a race that was no longer in the world, except for Aang.

"Gyatso looks fun," Samir whispered, staring at Gyatso's immortalized laughing face. "I like him better than that statue. And you were a cute baby, Daddy. And your mommy and daddy were pretty. You look like your daddy."

"Thanks, Samir," Aang said, pulling the portraits away as Samir laid back, face exhausted. "Will you be able to sleep?"

"Uh-huh. Can I see it again tomorrow?"

Aang's grin flashed. "Absolutely. One day, when we all go back to the Southern Temple, I'm going to build statues based on both portraits."

"Can I help?"

"You can paint them."

Samir nodded, eyes drifting shut. "Yes. I like that."

Azula went to follow Aang as he slipped off the bed, but Samir reached out and grabbed her hand, blinking drearily at her. "You'll be here?"

"We will be in the next room," Azula assured, gesturing to the door. "Now sleep. Your dreams will be pleasant and nourishing; you will learn things about yourself that you never knew."

"Uh-huh," Samir whispered, fingers slackening, eyes shut, and Azula followed Aang out of the room and into theirs, connected to Samir's.

"That was a good story," Azula commended once she shut the door behind her. "But it was true; it was not only a story but an account."

Aang smiled distantly. "Yes. I'm glad she wants to know about him."

"Indeed," she agreed, voice soft. "I want to know about him, as well; I want to know more—I want to know everything. He is a greater man than any to walk this world except you."

"He's so much greater than me," Aang whispered, eyes far away, lost in a haze. "I'm glad I got to see him one last time."

"I am glad for you."

He blinked and stared at her, focusing on her Air garbs for a moment. "I'm glad that you got to know him, even if it wasn't for very long. It makes me love you even more."

Azula's lips stretched slightly. "It was a thrilling experience. I see why you love him and have missed him so dearly. I know it means nothing, but I love and miss him, as well- "

"It means something," Aang corrected, stepping closer. "It means something because I know you mean it. You're not just saying it to try to appease me or make me feel better or anything. You actually mean it—I see it in your eyes."

She released a slow breath. "He answered so many of my questions; he taught me the truth and never once lost faith that I would comprehend it. He believed in me. He reminded me of you. When we met on Ember Island, I did nothing to earn your faith; you should have imprisoned or killed me—but you surprised me with your faith and willingness to believe in me. It was the same with Gyatso. When I met him, he should have scorned me, for I am born of the race that slaughtered him, descended from his literal murderer. But he loved me and endorsed me; he believed in me without asking for anything in return. He said that he loves me and referred to me as his daughter, as is Fire's tradition. He accepted me and embraced me as the Mother of Air. He was not displeased or frustrated or disgusted; he was not anything but serene, kind, wise, and loving. He was delightful and splendid; he made me learn, laugh, and love. I anticipate seeing him again, for I know I will one day."

Aang swallowed, closing his eyes for a long time. "Thank you," he breathed. "You understand him; you understand what I mean when I talk about him. And you understand what I mean when I talk about Air. It's not like my understanding, but it's enough."

Azula straightened with a smirk. "I must live up to my title of Mother of Air, yes?"

"You live up to it," he retorted, staring at her in ways that thrilled her blood. "And I'm the only one who can say that."

"Gyatso said it," she pointed out, watching his reaction.

He only laughed briefly. "Of course, he did. I told him about you. He asked. I told him everything that happened."

Azula shook her head in wonder. "That is how he knew so much, for you provided him all that knowledge. He did see the future—through your eyes."

"Right."

"And I suppose you sought not to make me appealing in his eyes."

Aang winced before nodding, followed by a chuckle. "You suppose right. But looking back, the fact I was so adamant against you only made him appreciate you, holding you in deep regard and fondness."

"What did you tell him about me?"

"I told him we're married," he recalled, squinting slightly in recollection. "He enjoyed that. I told him about your beauty and intelligence; I said that you loved Air and understand it, looking to it for answers and wisdom; I said you're free and know how to stay free because you had triumphed over so much already, holding a strength that is fascinating; I said you're a powerful Firebender of your line; and I said you love the truth and are very wise. And I told him you're a princess. He was amused by that and seemed proud of you for having so much figured out. And I agreed with him after I got my head on straight."

"Benevolent of you," she commented softly. "I know it was difficult."

"It was, but I know it was the right thing—I see that now. It's What Is, and you're part of What Is as my wife—as Mother of Air. And being with you now, I'd have it no other way because you understand. I meant every word I said to Gyatso about you—and I meant all the words I didn't say. I said terrible things about you, and I thought even worse, but I don't mean them anymore because I learned. I understand clearly now. I hope you know that, and I'm sorry that I ever directed my hatred at you. I hope you can forgive me, but I know better than anyone that forgiveness is the hardest thing to ever do. If you need time, I understand."

Azula gripped his robes, pulling herself closer. "I do need time," she agreed, framing his bearded face with her hands, fingers curling into his bushy hair. "I need the hours of this night. A night's devotion will redeem us both. Only then will I forgive you."

Aang grinned. "I think you're just trying to seduce me."

She raised a brow in delighted challenge. "I try to love my husband."

"Must be hard," he replied, gray eyes flashing with memories.

"It is a lot easier now," Azula dismissed, not wanting him—or her—to dwell on mistakes made. "Perhaps I must reward you for making it easier. I think I must. It would be the honorable thing to do."

Aang looked like he was trying not to laugh, but he nodded in seriousness. "It would be very freeing."

"Indeed. We must embody our Elements as we unite to create a new race. But I surmise that we need to practice for such a serious endeavor."

"I think you're right."

Azula reclined on the bed, peeling away her Air robes, revealing her smooth, fair flesh. "Shall we?"

Aang smiled and joined her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

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

**Aang and Azula finally talk and lay everything out in the open. Unlike with the others, Aang is willing to tell Azula everything that happened to him. But he gets a powerful surprise in the fact that he wasn't the only one who had the chance to speak to Gyatso—Azula got the chance, too, when she was in her limbo. Aang tells her everything, and they discuss Air, Sozin, the Great War, Vaatu, and Air and Fire's ancient animosity stemming from Fire Lord Houka's counterattack on the Western Air Temple, for which Air taxed Fire for centuries. There's nothing that Aang hides from Azula, being honest 100% for the first time with her—because he can be 100% honest with himself now.

Aang adopts Samir and becomes her father officially—it was a long time coming.

**Sokka and Aang finally confront each other! Really, the whole problem that enveloped everyone was the fact that none of the Gaang EVER talked about what they would be doing after the Great War. Why would they, especially Aang? I think that would be the most realistic thing for a bunch of children and teenagers who are so focused on a goal that they lose sight of what will happen afterward. It explains everything perfectly as to how Aang and all of the others were expecting different things to happen; they never thought the same because they never talked about it! But Aang and Sokka make peace and clear the air between them, making everything good, reaching an understanding. Things are much better than they were because everyone can trust each other again.

**The Gaang arrives at Ba Sing Se, and Toph sneaks in to gain passage for the others. However, she sees Bumi again, and old wounds roar to life. She's still bitter that Bumi almost killed her for finding out his secret and trying to tell it to Bor—that Bumi murdered his predecessor and his entire family, clearing his path to Omashu's throne to turn the tide of the Great War in preventing Earth being conquered. Remember, when Bumi is introduced, Aang never mentioned, and it is never shown, that Bumi was a Prince in the flashbacks. I find it much more compelling, especially with his advanced age, that he was never a prince and fought his whole life to do what he needed to do to win the Great War, even if it meant committing abominable crimes in the name of the Greater Good.

Also, it's finally revealed what happened between Toph and Bor. Bor asked Toph to marry him, and she said yes even though she didn't want to—she wasn't ready. To escape it, she left that same night in secret and knocked him out when he tried to stop her. Luckily, she already had a place to go because Zuko's letter had already arrived, giving her a valid excuse to leave. But she, Bor, and Bumi all knew the real reason. And Bumi almost killing her and threatening to make her a real blind girl should she ever tell his secret left a really bad taste in her mouth. She had to get out of there.

I know that Zaofu is a city in Legend of Korra, but I needed a good city for one of the four Major Cities in the Earth Kingdom. I always thought that it was interesting how there were different Kings in the Earth Kingdom. There was the King of Ba Sing Se - Kuei - and the King of Omashu - Bumi. Surely, there are other Major Cities as the Earth Kingdom is the largest of the nations geographically. I added Zaofu and Chyung so that there would be four Major Cities. Now, Bumi's bloodline will be the ruling families of both Ba Sing Se and Omashu.

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.

Stay Safe
ButtonPusher