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Aang typically prided himself on standing strong when it came to upholding the beliefs of his people. It was his responsibility, his burden of loss to carry and his gift.But if he was being entirely honest with himself, moments such as the one he found himself in now, surrounded by a council of nations in which he was the only Airbending representative, it was difficult to remain pretending as if nothing was bothering him. He’d accepted a seat on the council of nations before fully understanding what it would mean to him, how it would feel . Every other representative was flanked with another member or two of their tribe.Aang stood alone.
He had thought that the duty of bringing peace in times of war in light of the genocide of his people would be the most profound burden he would ever feel, but in light of shouldering the burden of rebuilding an entire nation, all on his own, ending the war felt strangely inconsequential in comparison. Even Katara and Sokka could not stay beside Aang- they were acting as representatives for the Southern Water Tribe, in place of their father, who had been back home working on tribe restoration for a handful of months now. He knew that their position was equally as important as his, that they were only a few table places away, but Aang still found himself thinking that he wouldn’t mind Katara a little bit closer to him, just so that he could speak to her about what was running through his mind, what had him anxiously wringing his hands in a way that felt entirely uncharacteristic.
As if he’d spoken the thought out loud, Katara’s head perked up, her gaze drifting to his before darting away quickly. If things had been normal between them, he would’ve sent a subtle blast of wind her way, just enough to lightly ruffle her hair, just enough to see her smile, but things weren’t normal. Things hadn’t been normal between them since they had ended the war just a few months prior, and both of them had been endlessly darting around the subject since in an endless game of cat and lizard-mouse.
Aang liked to think that neither of them had been blind to the tangible thing that had been building between them since the moment the ice around him had crumbled. He hoped, at least. Somewhere between stolen conversations late at night when Sokka was long asleep and sidelong glances during bending practice, Aang’s faith in Katara’s reciprocation of his feelings had only increased.
He’d been so sure that he’d kissed her, in the Cave of Two Lovers, and again before he’d entered the Fire Nation. Both times, he’d waited for her to say something, anything, to confirm that those kisses had been just as earthshaking for her as they had been for him, but both times, she hadn’t. He’d pressed her about it only once, and the moment she told him that she felt confused, Aang had felt like an absolute and utter idiot . The idea that he’d made Katara uncomfortable… It was enough for him to do his best to suppress his feelings as much as he could.
That had left them where they were now- on opposite sides of a council room. Two teenagers who could end a war but couldn’t manage to communicate. Aang supposed that there was a bit of comedic irony present there, but truth be told, nothing felt funny to him at the moment.
Not with how the other council members were speaking about his people.
“Rebuilding Air Nomad Culture cannot be our greatest priority right now.” Aang was stirred from his thoughts by a dull thud of a fist slamming that echoed on the thick, map-covered wooden table. “We have just left times of war. Each of us needs to pick themselves back up. None of us have the resources to spare for a nation of one .” The words came from Hahn, Princess Yue’s ex-fiance, who had, regrettably, been made delegate of the Northern Water Tribes. His words were almost enough to send Aang surging up from his seat, but Katara beat him to the punch, her tone utterly irate.
“How can you say that?” Katara ran her hands through her hair incredulously, his jaw set. “Each nation standing on their own and neglecting the balance between our peoples is how the war started. The blood of the Air Nomads is just as much on the other nations for neglecting to remember that, for failing to come to the defence of the remaining Air temples after the first of the Fire Nation raids.” Aang flinched at the visceral reminder, the images it stirred, but regardless, Katara was right. She continued on, her voice dropping in volume and only gaining intensity.“It’s every nation on their own until it was your nation, the one that this “nation of one” defended only months ago.” She spat the last of the words out as if they were laced with venom, her disgust evident as she reminded Hanh of the water spirit form Aang had needed to take to ward off the incoming invasion.
“Please,” Another voice interjected, this one a general from one of the Earth Kingdoms. “The idea of prioritising peace and existing without an organised army is certainly well intentioned, but ultimately, I believe that all of us in this room can agree that this is what sealed the fate of the nomads. It isn’t safe for any of us to leave our nations equally undefended by relegating resources to the restoration of temples that will only sit empty for centuries.”Aang became acutely aware of a high pitched ringing that seemed to surge through him, drowning out all other sound. Back and forth, each of the council members surrounding him, each speaking as if the Airbender wasn’t there. And perhaps he might as well have not been. Who was he, to believe he could fix everything that had been broken so severely in the loss of his people?
The Airbenders were gone, and Aang knew that, but the thought that it didn’t seem as if anyone in the room cared if they stayed that way shattered him entirely.
Over and over, the voices overlapped, the ringing reaching a peak in Aang’s ears, his hands shaking with the tightness of his grip on his glider, which felt as though it was the only thing anchoring him to the physical plane. His past lives called for him, his control slipping with every careless word that slipped from another council member’s lips, until Aang rose, his tone alight with deadly intensity and precision.
“The Fire Nation’s sneak attack is what sealed the fate of the nomads, of all of the temples and traditions of my people.” Aang’s gaze swept over the table, and even without the promise of a thousand past lives of pain behind those eyes, the look he shot everyone in the room was enough to bring complete silence. “Do not imply that we were, in any way, deserving of the tragedy just because we believe in peace. The nomads did not invite that pain and suffering by choosing kindness. Fire Lord Ozai did with his tyranny.” He pushed back from the table, striding to the imposing wooden double doors, but not before turning to deliver his final words.
“Each of you should be well aware that you would’ve likely suffered the same fate, had it not been for my protection, alongside Master Katara, Warrior Sokka, Fire Lord Zuko, General Suki, and Master Toph.” His words were pure ice, polar storms, raging seas. “I would remember that the next time you try to rewrite the history of my people. Had it not been for this pacifist,” he continued, gesturing to himself, “None of you would be here to voice your thoughtless opinions .”Aang managed to bite back tears until he passed the opulent, well-carved marble archway leading into the Fire Palace’s royal gardens. There, only there, surrounded by the quiet embrace of cool night air, did he allow his mask of diplomacy and contentment to slip through his fingers as he sank down onto an unforgivingly cold stone bench, his head in his hands.
The wind swept through the garden more intensely, as if communicating its sympathy. As if even the wind itself could not help but pity this young boy, made into the sole survivor of his people far too soon.It was probably a good thing that Aang had interrupted the overlapping naysayers of the council the way he had, because Katara was pretty sure that she had been moments away from sending a tidal wave crashing over the lot of them. Aang, even in his evident irritation and hurt, had been too kind to the council, at least in her opinion, but then again, how could she expect anything else? His prioritisation of empathy had always been one of the traits Katara found so admirable, so compelling . As much as she knew that save for Sokka, not a single person in that room deserved Aang’s kindness, it was nevertheless so quintessentially Aang to remain civil and mature, even while those around him remained anything but.
The two of them had only gotten closer in the months after the war had ended. Days flooded with running from Azula and intensely focused training sessions had been quickly replaced by more free time than either of them knew what to do with, and the natural conclusion that the two had arrived upon was to spend all of that newly earned time with one another. Picnics, repairs to the Air temples, late night swims in lakes across the mainland with the stars reflected in the still, glassy surface of the pools of liquid.
It was in those late night moments, where Aang would lay next to her, his eyes fixed on Katara’s as she spoke, that she had begun to question what exactly this feeling was, the one that had begun to bloom in her chest whenever she looked at Aang. If she was entirely honest with herself, she knew that it had always been there, but now that the guilt of taking up the Avatar’s precious time in an era of war was no longer a concern, the feeling had quickly become too powerful to ignore.
It had only gotten worse with the way Aang had shot up in the last few months. Once roughly her height, he had quickly surpassed her, now towering over Katara by at least a head or two. His frame had filled out as he grew, sinewy muscle peeking through one-shouldered robes that had Katara blushing and averting her gaze during training sessions for reasons she still couldn’t quite understand. He’d grown up, that much was evident, both physically and mentally. He was no longer the scared boy in the iceberg that she’d found, and she was no longer the same girl he’d locked eyes with.
But as much as that was true, seeing Aang in so much pain just moments before was enough to remind Katara that no matter how grown and responsible he seemed, Aang was a kid , one who still needed support and consoling. He may have looked distinctly more like a man, at least of late, but he was still a kid.
She pushed through the wooden doors with a creak, her eyes darting back and forth until they snagged on orange and yellow robes through the leaves of a thick hedge. She didn’t particularly care if it was rude of her to storm off without an announcement of her departure, not when Aang needed her. Katara stepped gingerly between puddles, left over from the previous night’s rainstorm, and bent the ones that were unavoidable out of her way. Aang looked up as her footsteps drew closer, and she felt a physical tug on her heartstrings at the sight of the pinprick tears gathering in the Airbender’s eyes.
“Hey,” She breathed, settling down next to him on the bench. On a whim, Katara reached out to hold his hand between her own, and the moment she looked into his eyes, she watched as Aang fought off a wave of emotion.
“Looking into that room…” His voice was thick, the intensity of his loss evident.
“It feels so empty, knowing that I will only ever be the only Airbending council member. The only Airbender .” His eyes flitted away, looking up to the sky as if he were addressing the spirits themselves. “Is Hanh right? Is there any point to restoring the Air Temples, when they will only ever sit empty? Does it make me selfish?”“It makes you human .” Katara squeezed Aang’s hand, the one she had not let go of yet and did not intend to. “What’s the alternative? To pretend as if none of them ever existed? It’s not selfish, Aang, it’s prioritizing balance, which is what you’re supposed to be.” She bit her lip before continuing, softly. “I hate to watch you try to pull yourself into a million different places for these people who don’t even have the decency to speak about your people respectfully.”Aang let out a sigh. He looked down, and as if he’d just noticed their proximity, he tugged his hand from Katara’s, his face flushed as he buried it in his hands. “I feel so alone , in all of it. I don’t see how I’m supposed to rebuild an entire people, all on my own. And it still feels like I’m not doing enough. I hate sitting through all of these council meetings, listening to them pity my people instead of speaking about them as a legacy, but if I get angry with them, I’m turning my back on what the monks would have done in my situation.”“Aang. There's no precedent for any of this. The scenario you’ve found yourself in… unique feels too simple of a way to put it. None of the monks would judge you for succumbing to moments of grief and anger.”
“ I would judge me. I would not forgive myself.”
“You should.” She smiled softly, shaking her head. “Even the great Avatar, saviour of the world, is not without moments of imperfection.”Aang chuckled through his tears, his smile turning cocky. “You’d be surprised. I think you’ll find that I’m about as close to perfection as can be.”“I know,” she said simply, and the genuine quality of her voice was enough to send a blush blooming across Aang’s face. She pushed on, internally berating herself for letting that slip. “And I understand why you feel alone, I really do, but I’m right here, in your corner. Please don’t forget that. You’ll always have me there. If you’d escalated the situation back there, if you had snapped completely, I would’ve been right behind you, following your lead.”Aang’s nose wrinkled as he laughed at the idea of the pair of them fighting the entire council.
Katara shook her head, her eyes fixed on his. “Let Sokka, or Toph pull us back to reality. I’m right there with you, in everything .” In life too, if you’d let me, she added silently, her hands itching to pull his hands back to hers.
The space between them grew thick, tangible, taut with silence and unspoken words. Katara felt as though she couldn’t put any phrases to what was growing between them, this surge of energy that had been building since she’d split apart that icy prism.
“Thank you.” Aang finally broke that silence, his words thick with emotion rather than tears. “I… I don’t know if you’ll ever understand how much that means to me, to hear from you.
The tension between them was a thread, a connection, something tugging Katara closer. She knew that she needed to think before acting, needed to speak things through, but the feeling that had flooded Katara every time she was in Aang’s presence was flooding through her, drawing her to him as if he were bending her energy itself. Was it her imagination, or had Aang shifted closer? Was she seeing things, or had his eyes snagged on her lips? His face seemed nearer now, his dark-lashed grey eyes looking as though close could never be close enough.
Perhaps she would have learned how close could be close enough, if it weren’t for the loud thunderclap that had echoed above, startling the two apart. Katara had laughed, tugging Aang by the hand into the heart of the storm, sending raindrops dancing around his head.
Perhaps it didn’t matter that she didn’t yet have words to put to what was growing between them, sprung from seeds planted months before. Aang was here , and so was she, and that was enough for her, more than enough.She hoped it was enough to help him through this.