13 AE
The Avatar's House
Zephyros
Aang's official training was set to begin. He was leaving Zephyros the following morning to head to the Northern Water Tribe, where he'd meet his already appointed waterbending master. He was feeling all sorts of things in that moment; excitement, worry, fear. No, he shouldn't be afraid. He had nothing to be afraid of...right? He had had a meeting with the Elders earlier that day, where they had performed a special prayer for him and provided him with the necessary instructions for when he arrived to the water tribe.
"We will be in contact with you during your time there," the Grand Elder at the time had promised, his tone wistful. "We aren't worried. We know that you can and will master all the elements with ease. You are a not an ordinary child, so we expect extraordinary results." Aang had nodded in acceptance, bowing low before them. "Thank you. I won't fail you." "We know you won't," the wizened monk replied matter-of-factly. "It is not your nature to fail, and we don't expect you to develop that habit now. We're counting on you, Aang."
Now, in his private quarters within his specially set apart home, the words rung deep. He couldn't fail. His people needed him. The world needed him.
"Failure's not an option. Weakness's not an option either." He said this to himself, a command that he was determined to follow as perfectly as he has been following the
Just then he heard a knock on the door. "Aang? Are you awake?" It was Gyatso. Aang invited him in, and his mentor came in, closing the door behind him. He went to sit on the bed next to Aang, his expression light yet Aang could see a glimmer of something akin to sadness in his eyes.
"Aang, I know that we may not see each other for a while."
Aang nodded, keeping the lump in his throat down. "Yeah. I...I'm going to miss you."
Gyatso smiled sadly at him and wrapped a comforting arm around him, bringing him closer to him. "I will miss you too. You're a brilliant child, so full of light and wonder. You're destined for great things, Aang." Aang tried to fight the tears forming, hugging his mentor, his friend, his father. He knew Gyatso wasn't his biological father, but he had raised him for his most of his life. And now he wasn't going to be able to see him for possibly years.
"I will write to you every day," he promised, looking down at him with such pure love that Aang didn't even try to hide it anymore, and started crying.
"I don't want to leave you." The old monk held him, letting him cry it out. "I know Aang. I'm sorry that I can't come with you. But you will be fine. Your masters are all powerful and knowledgeable in their respective elements, and they will keep you safe." The boy sniffled and looked up at the elder with swimming pools of grey. Gyatso wiped his tears and planted a tender kiss on his head.
"There now, don't cry. We can't have you water bending accidentally now, can we?" Aang smiled and laughed a little at the stupid joke, and wiped at his eyes. "I just wish I didn't have to go. I'm excited to learn but I want to be here." "I understand. This is a new and scary thing for you. But it's going to be worth it." Gyatso then sat up straighter and reached into his robe to pull something out. "Here," he said, holding up the item. Aang looked at it and gasped. It was a medallion similar to Gyatso's, smaller but the design and make were identical. "I had this made for you to take. I know that you're not allowed to carry anything personal with you, but technically this is mine." He winked and Aang, overwhelmed with gratitude, threw himself on to the monk, who happily caught him in his arms, nuzzling him deeply.
"Oh, Aang." For a long time they just sat there and hugged, not saying anything yet saying everything at the same time. They enjoyed each other's presence, soaking up every last bit of it, knowing that they were going to be separated for months, years even. The thought was unbearable, and yet they both knew the sacrifice was a necessary one. Aang needed to master the elements, all of them. He needed to be strong. He needed to be ready.
Upon his request, Gyatso stayed with him that night, holding him the way he used to when he was much younger and innocent. He whispered words of love, pride, and joy in him. He told him he believed in him. He knew he would do great things. "You will be a powerful Avatar," he spoke, his voice more a pronouncement over him than a simple platitude. He knew. He knew what this boy could do.
And he couldn't wait for the rest of the world to also know what he could do.
Aang had returned home that evening, fatigued and desiring nothing more than to just go to bed. His attendants greeted him upon arrival, and after he carefully shooed them away, he headed to his private chambers. His bath and necessities were already prepared for him, as always. Being the Avatar afforded him the luxuries of royalty without actually being royal. It was something the Council had insisted on back when they first told him the truth of who he was. Going from the more communal style living at the Southern Point Temple, which was where he lived in the city since he was eight, to having his own home at twelve, was nothing short of jarring. At first he tried to resist it, didn't want the help of his attendants, and was admittedly doing things to give them trouble.
But now, thinking back on it, he couldn't understand why he had ever fought this. Being young makes you dumb, I guess.
He settled into the bath, and as he soaked in the warm waters, Aang's mind drifted to the Council meeting from earlier that day. The discussions had been long and demanding, the weight of leadership ever present on his shoulders. But as his thoughts turned over the words exchanged, another face crossed his mind—Kima.
He hadn't seen her at all that day, though he had expected that with how occupied he had been. Still, it was something to consider. His schedule for the following day was clearer, and he decided he would use some of that time to speak with her. There was still much she needed to understand about Zephyros, about what would be expected of her. Perhaps then he would determine if she was ready to leave the house and see the city herself.
The next morning, Aang had already been awake for hours. He had eaten breakfast, completed his morning meditation, and attended to other matters before setting himself in the sitting room. A stack of letters awaited him, personal messages from friends and acquaintances scattered across the city and beyond. As he sifted through them, reading with quiet focus, Linh appeared at the doorway.
She gave a respectful bow. "Kima has finished her breakfast, Avatar."
Aang nodded, setting aside the letter he had been holding. "Bring her in."
Linh left, and moments later, she returned with Kima in tow.
Aang looked up from the letter he was reading as Linh entered the sitting room with Kima following close behind. He set the parchment aside and offered her a small smile. "Good morning, Kima. Please, have a seat."
She hesitated for only a second before stepping forward and lowering herself onto the cushion across from him. Her posture was tense, though she tried to appear at ease.
Aang studied her for a moment, then asked, "How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?"
She glanced down at her hands before answering, "I'm feeling better." There was a pause, and then, reluctantly, she added, "I… had some trouble sleeping."
Aang's brows knitted together with concern. "Why?" he asked gently. "Did something happen?"
Kima shifted uncomfortably. "No, nothing like that," she said quickly, but there was something in her tone that made it clear she didn't want to talk about it.
He regarded her for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright," he said, letting the subject drop. "I also wanted to apologize for not seeing you yesterday. I usually have a full schedule when I'm in the city. But today is a light day, so I wanted to take some time to talk with you."
He leaned back slightly, giving her space. "If you have any questions, you're welcome to ask."
Kima remained silent, her fingers lightly gripping the fabric of her clothes as she struggled to form a question. The quiet stretched on long enough that Aang let out a short breath through his nose, tilting his head slightly.
"Wow," he said dryly. "You're really taking advantage of this opportunity to ask me anything."
Kima's lips pressed into a thin line before she finally spoke. "Why am I here?"
Aang blinked at her, the amusement fading from his expression. For a moment, he didn't answer, his gaze drifting slightly as if even he wasn't sure how to respond. Then, with an almost reluctant honesty, he admitted, "I don't know."
Kima's breath caught slightly at the admission, but before she could say anything, Aang looked at her again and asked, "Would you have preferred to stay at the Air Temple?"
Kima clenched her jaw, her heart pounding at the implication that those were her only options. She forced herself to meet his eyes, her voice quiet but firm. "I would've preferred to be home. In the Southern Water Tribe."
Aang was silent for a long moment, studying her face. Then, instead of responding directly, he asked, "Tell me about your family."
Kima hesitated again, and he caught it immediately. Before she could try to deflect, he raised a hand slightly, his voice steady. "I'm not going to do anything to them," he assured her. "I just want to know."
She swallowed, glancing away before answering. "It was just my mother and my little brother. My father died when my brother was still a baby."
Aang's expression softened. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said sincerely. "And… I'm sorry that you're separated from them." His voice was quiet, almost regretful. But then, just as softly, he added, "I can't let you go yet."
Something in Kima snapped at those words. The frustration, the helplessness—everything boiled over at once.
"Why not?!" she burst out, her voice louder than she intended. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet room, and the second the words left her mouth, she froze.
Her breath caught in her throat as fear settled in. She had just yelled at the Avatar. At the most powerful airbender alive. The most powerful bender alive, period.
Aang's eyes flickered with something unreadable, and the air in the room felt unnervingly still.
Aang exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers drumming once against his knee before stilling. "I didn't want to tell you this," he admitted, his tone quieter but firm. "But with the way things are going… you were going to find out one way or another."
Kima stared at him, her heart hammering in her chest as he continued.
"The Southern Water Tribe isn't united," Aang explained. "There are those who have accepted the Empire, who understand that resistance only brings more suffering. And then there are those who still insist on fighting back. Because of that divide, tensions are rising." His gaze flickered toward her. "It's only a matter of time before there's a full split. And when that happens, the Wind Sentinels will be returning with more force than ever before."
Kima felt like the breath had been knocked from her lungs. Her mind reeled, trying to process what he had just said. A heavier presence. A take over.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.
Aang didn't react, only continuing with a measured calm. "With things the way they are, I saw no point in taking you back. You'd only be caught in the middle of it, and I couldn't risk that. And frankly…" He sighed, leaning back slightly. "I didn't know where else to take you."
Kima barely heard the last part. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning everything else out. The Wind Sentinels were going back. And this time, they wouldn't just be maintaining control—they'd be crushing any remaining resistance.
Without thinking, she leaned forward, her voice breaking. "Then stop them."
Aang blinked. He hadn't expected that. He tilted his head slightly, genuine puzzlement apparent on his face . "What?"
"Stop them!" Kima repeated, desperation lacing her words. "You're the Avatar! You could—"
"I won't," Aang interrupted smoothly.
Kima stiffened. "You—"
"I agree with it."
The words were simple, spoken with no hesitation. And they terrified her.
Kima's breath hitched, and for a moment, she could do nothing but stare at him. A sickening chill crept down her spine.
"Why…" Her voice came out unsteady, barely above a whisper. "Why are you even telling me this, then? If you aren't going to do anything about it?"
Aang let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Because you asked."
His words hit her like a slap.
Kima clenched her jaw, her hands tightening into fists in her lap. She had asked. And he had answered, not with remorse, not with uncertainty—just fact.
The room felt colder now, the air heavy with something unspoken.
And for the first time since being brought here, Kima truly understood just how dangerous the man in front of her was.
He didn't care. He didn't care about anyone that would get hurt as a result of this. Why would he? As far as he was concerned this was just another stumbling block in the Air Empire's rule that would be corrected.
Aang watched her closely, his sharp gaze reading her as easily as the wind read the sky. He leaned forward just slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his chin.
"I know what you're thinking," he observed, his voice lighter now, almost amused. "But I'm not dangerous to everyone, Kima. Only to those who threaten my people. The Empire's rule. Its guidance."
Kima didn't respond. She barely breathed.
Aang waited a beat, then tilted his head. "Before you were taken… was your family on our side?"
The question struck her like a blade between the ribs. Kima's stomach twisted, but she forced herself to stay still. To keep her expression smooth.
"Yes," she said, her voice steady.
Aang smiled. It wasn't the soft, reassuring kind. It was knowing. Amused. He saw right through her.
"Then you would've been safe after all," he mused. "If you were still there."
Kima clenched her hands in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. She could feel her pulse in her throat, but she pushed the rising panic down. If he already knew she was lying, what was the point of pretending?
"Then take me back," she challenged. "Right now."
Aang didn't answer immediately. He let the silence stretch between them, his expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, he let his eyes drift over her—not in a leering way, but in quiet assessment.
Finally, a small smirk tugged at his lips. "Actually, I think I like you better in Air Nomad colors than those of the Water Tribe."
Kima tensed. She was still wearing the simple robes Linh had given her—nothing extravagant, but unmistakably similar to what the Air Acolytes wore.
Aang's gaze lingered for just a second longer before he leaned back, clearly satisfied with his own remark. "They suit you."
Kima said nothing.
But inside, something in her twisted into an even tighter knot.
Kima barely registered Aang's words.
The air felt thinner, her chest tight. The moment he mentioned the Air Nomad colors, the memories crashed into her like a tidal wave—rough hands gripping her arms, Banzan's cold voice, the stone walls of the temple pressing in. The feeling of being so utterly powerless.
She didn't realize she had started crying until Aang's expression shifted.
"Hey," he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. "I was just making a bad joke."
But Kima couldn't respond. The weight of everything—the past, the present, the looming future—wrapped around her like a stranglehold. Her breath came shallow, fast. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The room felt smaller, the walls too close.
Aang sat up straighter, his sharp gaze flicking over her as he realized what was happening. Without another word, he moved.
A gentle current of air wrapped around her, cool against her overheated skin. It circled her chest, her shoulders, guiding her breathing, regulating it. Aang's voice came next—steady, controlled.
"Breathe in."
She gasped, trying to follow.
"Hold it… now, out."
The air shifted again, like an unseen hand easing the panic from her lungs. Slowly, her breath evened out. Her shaking subsided.
Aang exhaled quietly, watching her carefully. "I didn't mean to push you like that," he admitted. He looked almost… guilty. It was a strange expression on him. "Come with me."
Kima, still dazed from the attack and the lingering effects of the airbending technique, didn't resist as he stood and helped her up. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her, but Aang's grip was firm, steady.
"I want to show you something," he said, leading her outside. The crisp evening air hit her first, followed by the gentle rustle of trees.
He guided her toward a small, separate building on the property—one she had never noticed before. It wasn't grand like the main house, nor as rigid as the temple structures. It looked… different. More secluded.
Aang slid open the door, revealing what lay within.
Kima blinked.
The air was thick with something she couldn't describe—something old, something powerful.
The room wasn't really a room at all, but a lush indoor garden, bathed in the soft glow of floating lanterns. Exotic plants spilled over carved stone pathways, their leaves shifting as if moved by an invisible wind. A small pond shimmered in the center, reflecting the golden light like a portal to another world.
"This," Aang said, his voice quieter now, reverent, "is where I go when I need… clarity."
Kima barely breathed as she stepped inside. The energy here—it was different from the city. Stronger. More alive.
Aang walked further in, glancing back at her. "The spiritual energy here is ten times stronger than anywhere else in Zephyros." He paused, watching her closely. "I come here when I need guidance from my past lives, and to just connect with my spiritual being more."
Kima swallowed.
The weight of the air here pressed against her skin, but it wasn't suffocating like before. It was vast. Watching.
She didn't know what to say.
Aang gently helped Kima sit down near the pond, making sure she was comfortable before settling next to her. The air in the garden was cool, peaceful, almost reverent. He adjusted himself, taking a moment to breathe deeply, his eyes soft with understanding.
"This place," he began quietly, his voice carrying just the slightest trace of reverence, "was built by the monks long before I came here. It's not just a garden—it's part of the city's heart, a space meant for reflection and growth. It's here to help people ground themselves when everything around them feels too chaotic."
Kima's fingers curled around the soft fabric of her clothing as she gazed around, taking in the lush plants, the floating lanterns, the calming rhythm of the pond. But despite the beauty of the space, her mind was still clouded with turmoil. The memories—so vivid, so sharp—continued to pull at her.
Aang's eyes softened as he looked at her, sensing the weight of her emotions. "I know it's hard. But sometimes, to heal, you have to let yourself feel everything that hurts... and then let it go."
Kima's gaze flickered away from him, her jaw tightening. She wanted to argue, to pull away from the vulnerability he was asking her to open herself to, but instead, she found herself sitting in the stillness, unsure. It was a battle within her—a battle to hold on to everything she had endured, everything that had brought her here.
"Just try," Aang urged gently, his voice calm but firm, as though he knew how hard this was for her. "It might feel impossible, but you've already made it this far. Try to let it out. Just for a moment."
Kima hesitated. She didn't want to. Letting go felt like surrender. It felt like weakness. She clenched her fists, her breath shallow as she fought the rising tide of emotion.
But then she glanced at Aang, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. There was no judgment there, just understanding.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She closed her eyes slowly, willing herself to focus, to ground herself in the moment.
For a while, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the garden, the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. She tried to listen, to focus on her breath. Aang had given her the space to feel, but it was hard.
As she sat there, Kima allowed the pain to surface. It wasn't easy, not by any means. The past—the memories of being dragged from her home, the cold, impersonal faces of the Air Nomads, what happened with Banzan; the helplessness she had felt—stung sharply, but she didn't turn away this time.
She focused on the stillness of the pond, the soft, steady glow of the lanterns above. The air, so light, so refreshing, helped to soothe the chaos inside her. Slowly, cautiously, she tried to let the anxiety and pain trickle away.
But then, a flicker caught her attention.
She opened her eyes, just for a second, and saw Aang sitting across from her, his gaze fixed on her with quiet patience.
She wasn't sure how long he had been looking at her, but there was something about the way he watched her—a sense of knowing, of understanding—like he wasn't just seeing the person she was, but the person she could become.
Kima blinked, her heart skipping a beat as she found herself staring back at him. Her breath caught in her throat. There was no judgment in his eyes. Only quiet encouragement.
Aang gave a small, reassuring smile, his presence in the space a calming force. "It's okay," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to do this alone."
Kima swallowed, her mind swirling, still processing everything—her pain, her fear, and the new sense of safety she had found in this strange place.
The garden felt like a different world, a world where things were slower, more grounded. She wasn't sure how long she would stay here or what would come next, but for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could start to heal.
Aang gave her a few moments before asking quietly, "Are you feeling better now?"
Kima took a slow, steady breath, still trying to center herself after the wave of panic had subsided. "Just a little," she said, her voice low, uncertain. The tension still lingered beneath her skin, but the air felt lighter now, the oppressive weight of the panic beginning to lift.
Aang's expression softened, his eyes filled with regret as he shifted closer to her. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean for you to get overwhelmed. I'll be more careful with what I say around you. I didn't realize how it would affect you."
Kima didn't know what to say to that. The apology, though sincere, felt almost too sudden, too calculated. She glanced down at her hands, unsure of how to respond.
"Thank you," she finally said, her voice quiet, unsure if she was being entirely honest with herself. The words felt hollow as they left her lips, but she couldn't find the right ones to explain the confusion swirling inside her. There was something unsettling about how quickly his demeanor had changed. One moment, Aang was almost distant, joking with her in a way that honestly rude, and the next, he was apologizing with the softest, most considerate tone. She couldn't help but wonder: Which version of him was real? The sarcastic, almost spiteful side, or the gentle, apologetic one?
Her thoughts tangled together, leaving her feeling uneasy. What was the truth beneath his actions? Was it all just another layer of something carefully crafted, or was she seeing the true him—someone who could flip between personalities without warning?
Aang seemed to sense the shift in her mood. His gaze softened further, as if he understood her confusion. "If something's bothering you, we can talk. You can ask me anything, Kima. I'll be honest, but I'll also be considerate." His words were calm, offering reassurance, but there was an underlying tension in his voice—like he was waiting for something.
Kima hesitated. She wasn't sure what to ask, or if she even had the right to ask anything at all. But the weight of the silence pushed her to think about the things that had been left unspoken, the questions she was afraid to ask.
After a moment, she looked up at him, her voice soft but steady as she finally spoke. "Have you… ever been scared of anything?"
Aang blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. For a moment, he didn't say anything, just stared at her with a flicker of surprise before his expression shifted to something more thoughtful.
"Yeah," he said slowly, his voice quieter now. "I've been scared." He paused, his gaze turning inward for a moment, as though recalling something distant. "But I don't let fear control me. I push it aside when I need to do what I have to do."
His eyes met hers again, steady and open. "But there's nothing wrong with being afraid sometimes, Kima. It's part of being human. We all feel it. What matters is what you do with it."
His words lingered in the air between them. There was a rawness to his admission that struck her—a vulnerability she hadn't expected from him, especially not after the way he had been acting earlier. For a brief moment, she wondered if this side of him was the real one.
Kima swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. "I guess that makes sense," she murmured, though she wasn't entirely sure it did. It felt like something she couldn't fully grasp, not yet. Fear was a tricky thing. She wasn't sure if she could ever let go of the fear that had taken root in her chest, but hearing Aang's words, hearing that he too had faced fear, made it feel just a little bit more bearable.
Kima felt the weight of the space pressing against her again, the peaceful energy not enough to fully settle the tension still coiling in her chest. After a long pause, she finally spoke up, her voice soft but determined. "Can we leave here?"
Aang turned toward her, giving a slight nod as if he understood. "Of course," he said gently, offering her a reassuring smile. He rose smoothly to his feet, extending a hand to help her up as well. She took it, and as they moved toward the exit, Kima felt the cool air of the evening wrap around them, its embrace comforting after the stifling energy of the garden.
Once outside, the sounds of the city filled the air—distant chatter, the rustling of wind through trees, the steady hum of life moving around them. Kima breathed it in deeply, feeling the change in atmosphere.
"You're free to spend the rest of the day however you like," Aang said as they walked side by side. "Whatever makes you comfortable."
Kima glanced over at him, uncertain. "What are you going to do?"
The question seemed to surprise him, though it was brief. His brow furrowed slightly as he thought for a moment, the corners of his lips lifting in a half-smile. "Well, on days like this, I mostly catch up on correspondences from my friends, do some meditation… just clear my mind, work on my bending to refresh myself. Sometimes I take a walk or go for a flight around the city." He glanced at her, his eyes soft. "Today, though, I'll probably just stay at home and read. Maybe later I'll do some bending practice, just to keep in shape."
Kima nodded, absorbing his words but still feeling something gnawing at her. She didn't want to go back to her room alone. She didn't want to be left to her thoughts again just yet. She glanced at Aang, a nervous tension knotting in her stomach.
After a moment of hesitation, she asked quietly, almost as if testing the waters, "Would it be alright if I… stayed with you? For a little while?"
The request hung in the air between them. Aang froze for a brief moment, clearly caught off guard by her question. His eyebrows raised in surprise, his mouth opening slightly before he closed it again, clearly unsure of how to respond.
"Stay with me?" he repeated, as if the words were unfamiliar in his own mouth. He studied her for a second, his expression softening, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "Are you sure? You don't have to, if you don't want to. I mean… you're welcome to do whatever you'd like." He paused again, considering her carefully. "But, if you're asking to just be around while I read or meditate, that's fine. I wouldn't mind the company."
Kima looked down, embarrassed but relieved that he had said yes. "I just… don't want to be alone right now," she admitted softly. "If that's okay with you."
Aang gave a gentle nod, his expression warm now. "Of course, Kima. I understand. You can stay as long as you like." His voice was sincere, and there was a kindness in his gaze that made her feel, for the first time in a while, like she was welcome.
The uncertainty that had lingered between them seemed to ease just a bit, and as they continued walking back toward the house, Kima couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief. This was a great opportunity for her. He was busy the rest of the time, today he would be in his natural habitat doing what he'd normally do. She could observe him, see if there was anything that she could use to help her situation. She didn't really want to be around him too long, but she figured if she was going to escape eventually she might as well get him to trust her more.
And I really have to work on not reacting to everything he says.
Although he had promised to watch his words she wasn't sure if he'd actually keep to it. She'd just have to hide her feelings, and not give him any reason to suspect anything.
How bad could this be?
The day passed in a quiet rhythm, punctuated by moments of soft conversation and the occasional sound of paper rustling. Kima sat across from Aang in the sitting room, content to let the stillness settle over her. She daydreamed idly, letting her thoughts drift through the quiet comfort of the space. The soft glow of sunlight filtering in through the windows cast gentle patterns on the floor, and for a moment, it almost felt like everything could be calm again.
A knock on the door interrupted her quiet reverie, and a servant entered with a tray of tea and light snacks. The aroma of jasmine and honey filled the room, making her stomach rumble slightly. Aang nodded his thanks as the servant set the tray down in front of them. Kima took a sip of the tea, finding the warmth of it soothing, and glanced at Aang, who was already absorbed in his letters.
"Would you like something to read?" Aang asked, glancing up from his writing, noticing how Kima seemed restless.
Kima nodded slowly, intrigued by the idea, but unsure of what she would like. Aang motioned for the servant to bring something. A few moments later, a scroll was handed to Kima. As she unrolled it, her eyes widened in surprise.
"It's a legend," Aang said casually, noticing her expression. "A romance from the Earth Kingdom, actually. It's about a couple from ancient times, and it's believed they're the reason Omashu was named."
Kima's curiosity piqued, and she looked at him in disbelief. "You have this kind of reading material?"
Aang smiled a little, leaning back in his chair. "I've collected a variety of stories over the years—some are historical, some are just… interesting. I thought you might enjoy this one."
She began to read, captivated by the tale of two lovers who defied the odds of their time. The love story unfolded with the power of fate and courage, and Kima found herself drawn into the narrative. She could feel her mood lift just slightly, distracted by the romance and the strange connection it had to Omashu.
Aang finished reading his letters and set his stationary aside, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I'll probably meditate in a bit," he mentioned, glancing at Kima. "Would you like to come with me?"
She nodded, her attention still caught by the scroll, but she didn't object. She wanted to stay near him, even if she wasn't sure how she felt about his practices yet.
Aang led her to a small, secluded room that she hadn't noticed before. It was simple—bare stone walls and floor, with only a few cushions scattered on the ground. The atmosphere was peaceful and serene, a stark contrast to the chaos Kima sometimes felt in her own mind.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath. "I meditate three times a day," he explained quietly. "It helps me stay centered, especially with everything going on. You should try it sometime."
Kima nodded, standing off to the side. She watched him carefully, unsure of what to do with herself. As he settled into his quiet routine, a strange sense of discomfort settled in her stomach. His calm reminded her too much of the mornings she spent in the temple, kneeling with the other captives for prayer. It was disconcerting, but at least he wasn't telling her to join him.
Aang was still deep in his meditation, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was still present in the room. Kima hesitated, feeling the urge to ask him something, but unsure of how to phrase it.
"How often do you go to the temple?" Kima asked suddenly, before she could stop herself.
Aang's eyes snapped open, irritation flickering in his gaze for a brief moment before he smoothed his expression. "Not often," he replied sharply, his voice tight. "Only when it's urgent."
Kima flinched at the tone, feeling guilty for interrupting. She stood there for a few moments, unsure whether to say anything else, but something within her couldn't let it go.
Aang took a deep breath, closing his eyes again, trying to return to his meditation, but Kima could sense something was different. He was distracted, and the stillness between them was tense. After a moment, his eyes flicked open again, his expression more focused now, but with an edge of impatience.
"Is there something else?" he asked, his voice gentler, but there was a firmness to it now. "If you've got something to say, you'd better say it now. I won't be able to talk until I'm done here."
Kima took a breath, her heart beating faster. She hadn't meant to bring this up now, but the concern she'd carried for so long bubbled to the surface.
"I had friends at the Air Temple," she said quickly, almost in a whisper. "They were the ones who tried to escape with me."
She paused, unsure if she should continue, but something in Aang's gaze told her to keep going.
"I'm worried about them," she admitted, her voice shaky now. "I… I don't know what happened to them. I was hoping you could check. See if they're alright?"
Aang went silent for a long moment. His gaze softened, and though he didn't say anything immediately, Kima could feel the weight of his consideration.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded slowly. "I'll see what I can do." His voice was steady, but there was a quiet determination behind his words. "I'll check for you."
Kima felt a mixture of relief and gratitude wash over her, though she still felt the lingering weight of uncertainty. But she was glad that he would at least check for her, and that would be one less thing to worry about.
Lunch passed in a quiet haze, the soft clinking of utensils the only sound breaking the silence. Aang seemed lost in thought, his gaze distant, his brow furrowed as he poked at his food. Kima watched him carefully, unsure if she should disturb him. She didn't want to break his focus, whatever it was, and yet the stillness between them felt heavy. She glanced at her own plate, taking small bites, but her mind kept drifting back to Aang. Was he upset about something? Had she said something wrong earlier?
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her nerves creeping up on her. She'd never been good at reading people, but she could tell something was different about the way Aang was acting. His usually easygoing demeanor had disappeared, replaced by a quiet seriousness.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aang glanced up at her. His eyes softened slightly as if he'd just realized she'd been waiting for him to say something.
"Did you like the food?" he asked, his voice casual, though his expression still seemed deep in thought.
Kima blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question. She hadn't realized how much time had passed in silence. "Oh, yes," she said, trying to sound as genuine as possible. "It was good."
Aang nodded slowly, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "Typically, a strict vegetarian diet is required for everyone living here in Zephyros," he said, his voice distant again. "But I know the Water Tribes have various dishes that include meat."
Kima felt a twinge of discomfort at the mention of meat. She thought about the meals she used to share with her family back home, how different they were from the food here. But she didn't want to make things awkward.
"Yeah," she replied quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. "We have a lot of different dishes with meat in them."
The truth was, the air nomad diet didn't bother her in the same way it once did. She had grown used to it, but she couldn't deny the longing she sometimes felt for the heartier meals she was accustomed to back home. She just didn't want to say it out loud. She didn't want to sound ungrateful, especially not to the literal air nomad Avatar.
Aang's gaze flickered to her, his eyes narrowing slightly. He knew. Kima could feel it as he looked at her, and her stomach twisted uneasily.
"You don't have to lie to me," Aang said gently, his voice lowering. "If something concerns you, you can talk to me. I'll listen."
Kima froze, caught off guard by his words. She hadn't expected him to see through her so easily. She felt heat rise in her cheeks, but before she could speak, he surprised her with something she hadn't anticipated.
"I have a way to get you food you might enjoy more," he said, his tone suddenly light, almost reassuring. "If it's something you miss, I can arrange for it."
Kima's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected him to offer to get her anything different. She hadn't even known if he would care enough to consider her discomfort. Her gratitude surged inside her, overwhelming her for a moment.
"Thank you," she said, her voice soft but filled with sincerity. "I really appreciate it."
Aang smiled, his expression gentle. "Of course. I know you're adjusting to a lot here. If I can make it easier, I will."
Kima felt a sense of relief settle over her. For the first time since arriving in Zephyros, she felt a little more seen, a little less like a stranger in this place. She still had a long way to go, but Aang's kindness—his willingness to understand—was a rare comfort she hadn't expected.
She didn't know how long it would last.
After lunch, Aang excused himself to change into something more comfortable than his usual robes. He mentioned that he'd be spending some time doing a bit of bending practice, but that it would be nothing too intense.
Kima nodded, still processing everything that had happened over the course of the day. As Aang stepped away, he instructed one of his attendants to take her outside to where he practiced.
The open area behind the main house was quiet, with only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the distant hum of life in the city. Kima sat down on one of the stone benches, her mind racing.
It occurred to her, with a small jolt of surprise, that she'd never actually seen Aang bend before. She had heard stories, of course—the tales of how powerful he was, even for an Avatar. His control over the elements was supposed to be unlike anything anyone had ever seen, his skill honed over lifetimes of training and experience. But those were just stories.
The reality of it was something different. The idea of witnessing him bend firsthand made her stomach flutter nervously.
She couldn't help but wonder how much of what she had heard was true. Was he as powerful as they said? Was it really as unnatural as the stories made it sound? The thought of it made her uneasy, but she tried to push it aside. After all, Aang had said it would just be a refresher—nothing too intense, nothing to worry about. He wouldn't let things get out of control, right?
Still, she felt a knot form in her stomach as she waited, watching the door where he had gone to change.
Moments later, Aang emerged from the building, now dressed in lighter clothes—simple, form-fitting pants and a loose tunic that allowed for more freedom of movement. His usual robes were nowhere to be seen, and the change made him seem more relaxed, less formal, in a way that Kima hadn't seen before.
He stretched his arms above his head with a small sigh, as if shaking off any remnants of tension from the day.
"This is something I do occasionally," he said with a slight grin, stretching one more time. "Just to keep up with my base skills. It's nothing too serious."
Kima nodded, watching him carefully. His words reassured her, but the tension in her chest didn't entirely dissipate. She still couldn't help but feel a little nervous, especially now that she could see just how fluid and natural his movements were.
Aang took a few slow steps into the open space, positioning himself in the center of the area. His eyes closed and he breathed in deeply, and for a moment, he was still, as if preparing himself. The air around him seemed to shift, responding to his presence.
Kima watched, trying to calm her racing thoughts. She had to admit, there was something mesmerizing about the way Aang moved. Even in his most casual moments, there was a sense of power in his posture. It was both awe-inspiring and slightly intimidating.
Still, she told herself, it was just a refresher. Nothing she needed to worry about.
Aang's movements were fluid as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Kima sat in silence, her eyes fixed on him, waiting for what he would do next.
He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, his breath steady. Kima noticed the air around him ripple slightly, though she couldn't quite place why. It was as if the world itself was responding to him.
Without warning, he raised his arms, and a gust of wind swept across the clearing, lifting the blades of grass and sending them swirling through the air. But it wasn't just any breeze—Aang controlled it with precision, guiding the air in intricate patterns that seemed to bend to his will.
He spun his arms in a controlled, fluid motion, and the wind followed, forming a spiral that rose into the sky before cascading outward. Kima watched in awe as he made it look so effortless, as if the wind were an extension of his own body. The gusts seemed to wrap around him, swirling like a dance, before he abruptly stopped, letting the air settle.
She blinked, trying to process what she had just seen. She knew this was airbending—she had seen it before in the monks, but never like this. What Aang had just done wasn't just a simple technique. It was advanced—far beyond anything she had witnessed. The control, the finesse… It was like he had molded the wind itself, shaping it into something far more intricate than she had ever imagined.
Kima bit her lip, keeping her amazement to herself. She was still too shocked to say anything, her mind racing as she tried to wrap her head around the sheer mastery he had displayed in just a few moments.
Aang stood still for a moment, his breath steadying, as he took a quiet moment to center himself. Kima thought he was done, ready to finish for the day. But then, without a word, his posture shifted again, and this time, his focus was on the earth beneath his feet.
Kima froze, her heart skipping a beat.
Before she could even comprehend what was happening, the ground around Aang's feet trembled slightly. He crouched, pressing his palms against the earth, and in one smooth, powerful motion, he pushed his hands outward. The earth beneath him responded with a rumbling roar, rising into jagged, jagged slabs of rock. The stones moved with a force she had never seen before—heavy, solid, and unyielding.
Kima watched, wide-eyed and unable to look away. She had never seen anyone earthbend in real life, let alone with this kind of power. She had heard stories, of course, but seeing it firsthand was something else entirely. The way Aang manipulated the earth—so effortlessly, so with complete control—it was overwhelming. She felt a mix of awe and fear, the kind of fear that came from realizing just how much power was at his fingertips.
The rocks shifted, raised, and twisted before crashing back into place. The earth settled, the tremors fading, and Kima was left staring, breathless, at the aftermath. The ground was disturbed, cracked in places, but everything was still.
Aang stood, exhaling again, his chest rising and falling steadily. He then shifted again, his focus narrowing as he prepared for the next element. Kima wasn't sure what to expect after the raw power of his earthbending, but she watched closely, trying to read his movements.
He raised one hand toward the small pond at the edge of the clearing, and with a slight flick of his wrist, the water rose in a smooth arc, floating just above the surface. At first, it seemed like a simple display—elementary, even, something she had seen many times before in the Southern Water Tribe. The water twisted in the air, moving with a calm flow, like the currents of the sea.
Kima relaxed for a moment, reassured by how familiar it seemed. But then Aang's other hand reached out, and that's when it happened.
The water, which had been rising gently, suddenly froze midair, suspended in time. Then, with an almost imperceptible shift, it split into multiple streams, each one spinning in opposite directions. The water arced, weaving together in complex patterns, moving in synchronization like a living thing. The streams danced, interweaving and spiraling in the air before they rejoined and fell back into the pond.
Kima stared, completely mesmerized. She had never seen anything like it before. This wasn't just waterbending—it was something beyond anything she had learned or witnessed in the Southern Water Tribe. The fluidity, the control—it was as if the water itself had become a tool, an extension of Aang's will, and he was shaping it with such ease. There was power in the movement, something raw and beautiful in the way the water responded to him.
Her unease returned. She had always thought of the elements as separate, as something you could understand if you studied long enough. But seeing Aang—he was a master of them all. His bending wasn't just about skill; it was about something deeper, something she didn't fully understand. It made her feel small. Fragile.
When Aang finished, he lowered his hand, and the water settled back into the pond. He turned toward her, his expression soft but curious.
"Have you ever seen a move like that before?" he asked, his voice light, as though he were asking about something casual.
Kima blinked, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of awe. "No... I haven't," she admitted quietly, her mind racing. She had seen waterbending before, but this—it was nothing like she had ever encountered.
Aang smiled faintly, almost in amusement. "I actually learned that one by accident, years ago, when I was just starting to learn waterbending," he explained.
Kima's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected that. "You... you learned it by accident?" she echoed, her voice betraying her shock. "But how?"
Aang gave a small shrug, his eyes drifting toward the pond. "I was training with my master back then. He had just taught me the basics, but I kept experimenting, trying to push the limits of my bending. One day, I was trying to combine waterbending and airbending in the same motion, and... well, I made the water freeze and break apart. It took me a while to figure out how to control it, but it was the first time I truly understood the fluidity of the elements."
Kima stood still for a moment, taking it all in. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. For someone like Aang, bending was second nature, like breathing. He had mastered not just one, but all four elements. And this particular move—it felt like something far beyond the teachings she had known.
Her unease only deepened, but she hid it behind a quiet, thoughtful expression. What was it like, to be able to do so much with the elements, to be able to bend them all with such ease? Was it freedom—or was it a weight that only someone like Aang could truly bear? She had never considered that being a bender would be something seen as heavy; as a non bender she didn't have that concern. But then again, she's never been in the presence of a master - wait no, Aang was beyond even a regular master or teacher. She's never seen anyone do anything like he's done so far, and the thought both intrigued and terrified her that one person could have that much power.
Aang stood still for a moment, his breathing steady, as if gathering his thoughts before the final element. Kima watched him, her eyes flickering from his face to the space around them. She couldn't deny that every element had been impressive in its own right, each one showcasing a level of control and grace that she hadn't expected. But something about this—fire—felt different. Aang was not just bending an element; he was about to do something she hadn't seen before.
He turned toward the center of the clearing, and there was a slight shift in his posture, a stillness that seemed to draw the air in closer. Then, with a deep inhale, his palms came together, and he exhaled sharply.
At first, the flames that erupted from his hands were ordinary enough—a burst of red-orange fire that sparked and roared to life in the open air. Kima's breath hitched, watching him manipulate the flames with ease, guiding them into twisting forms. But then—then the fire changed.
The flames began to glow with a distinct bluish hue, casting an eerie light on everything around them. The blue fire crackled with intensity, almost alive, like it had its own energy, its own will. It wasn't just fire; it was something else entirely. The intensity of the flames burned colder than any fire Kima had ever seen before. It wasn't just powerful—it was unnatural. Kima gasped. His fire is blue! I've never seen that before! I didn't even know that was possible!
Aang's movements were fluid, and with one quick motion, the blue flames shifted into a wide arc, swirling around him in a display of raw strength and precision. His control was effortless, as if the flames obeyed him without question, each twist and turn carried out with a mastery that left Kima in stunned silence. She had seen skilled firebenders before, but this—this was something else.
It was as though Aang was bending the very essence of fire itself. The flames rose higher, almost as if they were reaching for the sky. And the color—it was the blue, the unnatural coldness of it—that was all Kima could focus on.
She had heard stories, tales whispered among the people of the Air Nomads and the surrounding nations about the Avatar's true abilities. About how his bending went beyond the natural. About how he wasn't quite like the others. But seeing it for herself—it made the stories seem almost too tame, too simple. Aang's bending wasn't just about mastery of the elements; it was something more. Something rare. Something scary.
As the fire began to die down, Aang's hands lowered slowly, the flames flickering out. His face remained calm, composed as he did his final breathing, but there was a strange energy around him. Kima could feel it in the air, a pulse that didn't seem quite right. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine.
There was something about him—something unsettling.
Kima had spent so much time watching him, trying to understand his movements, the way he seemed to control everything around him so easily. But now, with the fire gone and the clearing once again calm, she realized there was more to Aang than she could comprehend. She could sense it now, this strange undercurrent in his energy that seemed to linger, like a shadow cast over him.
She wasn't sure what it was, but it terrified her.
The stories she had heard—the whispers about Aang's power, his abilities being something only heard of in legends—it all clicked into place. She had felt the weight of it, seen it in his bending, and now she could sense it in his energy. Aang wasn't just the Avatar; he was something more. Something that, even among avatars, was rare.
As the silence stretched, Kima stood frozen, unsure of what to say or how to feel. She had thought she understood the elements—had thought she knew what it meant to be connected to them. But now, with Aang standing before her, so effortlessly mastering the forces of nature, she understood that his power went beyond anything she had ever known.
And it frightened her.
Aang looked at her, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his gaze, something distant, as though he sensed the unease she was trying so hard to hide.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice calm, but Kima could hear the subtle edge of concern in his tone.
She couldn't answer right away. Instead, she just nodded, her heart racing in her chest. It wasn't just the bending that had frightened her—it was the feeling of being in the presence of something so far beyond her understanding. Something so powerful, it made the air feel heavy, as though the world itself was bending around Aang's will.
"I'm... fine," she whispered, but the words felt hollow even to her own ears.
Aang studied her for a moment longer, but he said nothing. He seemed to sense the shift in the air as well. And for the first time, Kima wondered if perhaps he, too, understood what it meant to be something... more. Something that was, in its own way, unnatural.
A/N: And here's the LONGEST chapter I've done so far! Wowwww! This is definitely one of my favourites so far! I bet no one saw Aang having blue fire in this universe coming, but as the story goes on you'll see why it makes sense for him specifically in this world. Also, I wanted to do something to get them to interact with each other, so this is it! And yes, in case it's not obvious yet, Aang isn't completely evil, but he's definitely not completely good either, and you'll see more of both sides as the story continues. Butttt, I hope this is interesting to all of you!