Chapter 4: ‘Till Freedom Stirs Her Wings
8 8 8
She weaves a song of water,
She drinks of many things,
Like pain, and hope, and darkness,
‘Til freedom stirs her wings
8 8 8
Today, Mai thought about freedom.
She often visited this set of memories. She decided that they’d become her favourite amidst all the tedium. It wasn’t like they had much competition.
And so the black-haired girl lay on her back, the thin pallet doing nothing to cushion her from the hardness of the floor, and remembered the Fire Nation Academy. It was after the three of them had become friends, a few years following the wide-eyed innocence of backflips and crushing on Azula’s brother. She remembered the curriculum, rigorous and well-rounded at first, before they had been faced with the choice of weapons specialisation...
For Azula it had been the easiest. Already lauded as a firebending prodigy, one of the greatest the nation had ever seen, she hadn’t even had to choose. For Ty Lee, it hadn’t been quite as simple, but simple enough. Her natural, almost supernatural agility and flexibility, as well as her aversion to blood, had primed her well for the rare form of chi-blocking. The old mistress who had taught it hadn’t had such a promising student in decades, and had kept an eye on her all the years that they’d been through the more general curriculum of Arts and Culture and History... so in the end, Ty Lee hadn’t really needed to choose either.
For Mai, however, it had been a different story. She wasn’t a firebender. She was agile, but not preternaturally so. She was fast, but not exceptionally, and that was the same for nearly all of her attributes except one.
Her accuracy.
Even as a child, Mai had had a way with rocks and pebbles, a way that had been strongly discouraged by her parents, but had turned out to be her greatest asset. However, accuracy had only narrowed down the field. The Fire Nation Academy for Girls was prestigious and renowned, and it prided itself on the sheer range of specialisations available. Thus, even finding Mai’s specific skill had left her with a substantial pool to choose from. And as the deadline drew closer, Mai had grown ever more agitated under her expressionless demeanour, leaving her vulnerable to Azula’s taunts of normalcy.
Mai closed her eyes, and suddenly she was back in the dormitories again, and the princess sat straight-backed on the bed combing her hair. A few strands of hair caught in the brush and Azula tugged it out of her locks, frowning as she spoke to the girl by the window.
“You still haven’t chosen? Hurry up and decide. Your indecision is so pathetic.”
Mai’s arms joined underneath the folds of her robes and she said nothing, just shrugged. Azula’s eyes narrowed.
“Really, Mai, how long is this going to go on for? Make up your mind. How about archery or something?”
Mai shrugged again, looking away. “I don’t like arrows.”
With that, Azula frowned again, this time a deeper line that left a depression in her flawless skin. “Well figure out what you do like and do it quickly. Otherwise you’ll be left behind, and you wouldn’t like that, would you Mai? Being left behind, nothing special.”
Mai turned away again, so that Azula couldn’t see her grind her teeth.
And on it had gone, until the day before the deadline, when they went to the combined graduate demonstrations of the top students from both Fire Nation Academies. Mai let a faint smile trace her lips at the memory, so slight that it was almost invisible. It had been the three of them... no wait, Zuko had been there too... but for once, her eyes hadn’t slid surreptitiously over to his form. Because it was there, on that day, that Mai had found her path.
As it was wont to be, the field set aside for demonstrations was full of dazzling displays and eye-catching performances that held more showmanship than substance. It was good politics, in a place where the achievements of the children made one look at the parents closer, perhaps sizing them up for promotions or marking them down on the list of potential allies or foes. But it had not been the flashes of fire or the displays of exotic weaponry that had caught Mai’s eye.
It had been a boy, only a few years older than her. He’d stood out from the others simply because he hadn’t been gushing fire, or wielding an instrument three times his size. Other than that, there was nothing special about him. His mid-length hair had been pulled up in a formal topknot, and his armour was polished brightly like anyone else’s. Perhaps the only thing that seemed different was the look on his face.
Whoever he was, the boy had worn calm like a veil, no expression showing on his features as he’d faced a dummy made of rice paper as if it and he were the only things that mattered in the world. Hot rays stroked the space between them from the blazing orb in the sky, the air fluttering over the dummy and stirring lightly over his hair. As they’d watched, he’d crouched and unravelled something glinting from his fingers. And then, not even glancing back to look at his audience, he had reached out with whips of thorned wire so fast they could barely see him move.
The dummy had held together for an instant, before exploding without a sound.
Mai remembered watching with widened eyes as tiny pieces of paper had floated in the wind, feeling her thoughts soar free with them. There had been something about the moment, something that would stay with her forever. It wasn’t just the speed or the grace. It had been... the complete concentration, the airbrushed beauty, the sheer accuracy. With one short burst of movement, the entire dummy had dissolved, and she imagined holding that kind of freedom in her hands, pinning it down in her grasp.
The boy had straightened and bowed to no one in particular. By that time, the wires had vanished from sight as if they had never been. But the memory of their flight never disappeared from. Even now, she remembered the sheer poetry of the moment where everything had flowed, where his fingers had extended and hit a million points of accuracy, and just how her mind had whirled on from there.
By the time she’d settled on her choice, feeling a strange giddy rush in her chest echoing the paper in the wind, she’d turned around and the boy was gone.
8 8 8
“It was me.”
There was a breath. It was the Fire Nation, and so the braziers set into the walls crackled in the silence. Katara did not look away, every muscle in her body arched and tensed like she was about to fight. Her eyes were wide and glassy, and she seemed to hover in the air as Aang stared at her like the world was burning down.
And then he erupted.
“WHAT?!”
Zuko hadn’t known that you could bend sound, but apparently you could. The air seemed to ripple and then spread, and it crashed over all of them like an unforgiving tide, shuddering the walls. In the distance, the Fire Prince heard glass crack, and he winced. Windows were expensive, and it wasn’t like he really had a lot of money to throw around. But he certainly wasn’t about to intervene now. As he watched, everyone in the room mirrored his recoil. Sokka and Suki seemed to shrink back in the armchair, the latter’s arm tightening around her wounded partner as if to protect him. Momo had skittered to the floor at Aang’s abrupt ascent, and his green eyes now shone wide and frightened. Even Toph’s hands were clasped uselessly around her ears, real pain shining from her face.
But amidst them all, one person still stood strong, seemingly unaffected by the Avatar’s anger. Katara never budged, her elbows pressed tight against her sides as her hands clenched in front of her. As the soundwaves of Aang’s cry faded away, her eyes narrowed and she spoke, her voice low and dangerous.
“Oh fine, you want me to say it again?” A sort of frenzied determination crossed her face, and if Zuko had been standing, he knew he would have stepped back. “Well I will! It was me. ME! I killed Azula. Not Zuko, ME!”
The words soaked in like rain. There was a moment, and then the deepest despair sunk across Aang’s face and Katara watched as the boy before her became an ageless man, an eternal star. The change was subtle, but astounding. His grey eyes took a more ancient look than she could ever comprehend, and his young body shuddered under the strain of the world. And yet still he stood, strong... the strongest she had ever seen him. Stood, and exploded with the tightest control.
“I don’t understand, Katara. You... you know how hard it was for me,” he took a breath. “You know how much it took for me to find another way. I had to travel all the way to meet a lion-turtle before I could make sense of it all! I... I had to talk to my past selves, and have them tell me over and over again that I had to kill him, to go against everything I ever wanted, everything I ever was!”
Aang looked down, as if it suddenly pained him too much to speak. The movement shadowed his face for a moment, but Katara could see the second that it changed, and the tight control fell away from him. Aang’s head swung up again, and the look imprinted on his face was livid. For a moment, Katara seriously thought that he would lose himself and shudder into the Avatar state, but then it passed, and he was just a boy in front of her again.
An angry, hurt, boy.
“How could you, Katara?! You know how much life means to me! How could you just... throw it away like that?! How... how could you just kill her?”
“It’s not like I meant to!” she yelled. “It’s not like I planned it! How can you stand there and accuse me like that? I did the best I could!”
It was funny, how much rage could pour out of such a little boy. “Well clearly you didn’t, because Azula’s dead! And clearly you meant to, because otherwise we wouldn’t be standing here like this! You’re not answering the question, Katara! How could you just kill her?!”
The words travelled across the space between them in slow motion. To the onlookers, it was like a breath, painfully exhaled. Katara felt it shivering, felt it coming, and then it slapped her and it was her breaking point.
“Well I’m sorry!” Katara shouted, her fists clenched tight by her side. “What would you have done if your water was running out? If a comet-crazed firebender had just blown up half the stadium?What would you have done if Zuko was dying five feet away from you, and Azula was about throw a fireball down your throat?! Let him die?!”
Aang’s eyes shone furious. “I would have done something! I would have at least tried to find another way! I did find another way. I fought Ozai and I didn’t kill him!”
“Well good for you, Aang!” her voice cracked slightly, real pain swathing her eyes. “Good for you!”
He wasn’t finished. Breath heaved in and out, deflating his small chest, but then he misread the look on her face and his voice turned to pleading. “Come on, Katara, I know you’re not stupid. You’re one of the cleverest people I know! You could have thought of something!”
In the captured crystal of the moment, everyone knew the instant that she snapped. Somehow, the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. There was nothing in the wind, a stillness that didn’t seem bearable as Katara’s eyes seemed to freeze over. And when she finally spoke again, her voice carried the chill of an Arctic night.
“I did think of something. I’m just sorry that it wasn’t good enough for you.”
It slapped the Avatar across the face. Aang stepped back, shock and confusion wreathing his feet as the coldness crept across the floor and wound itself around their skin. The ringing silence that followed shot daggers in their ears. The moment might as well have been frozen in ice. No one moved, it was just the two players in the centre of the room, and it was a standstill, a standoff. And as Zuko’s gaze shuddered and slipped surreptitiously around the room, he knew that the shock written on their faces was written on his.
But he couldn’t sit by any longer, not while two of his friends suffered. It wasn’t right, it couldn’t be right, not after all they’d gone through together. And so Zuko opened his mouth, readying himself to say something even as his heart sank into his gut. This was between Katara and Aang, and he knew that he had no right to interfere, but...
Just before he spoke, there was a clattering in the hall outside, and everyone suddenly swivelled to face the door.
“Prince Zuko!”
It was Shen Li. Zuko’s head snapped up, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the young man’s timing. For a moment, he wasn’t sure whether he was grateful, but then that thought evaporated as the guard captain stepped forwards, agitation twisted in his stance.
“Prince Zuko! There’s been an uprising in the Eastern square!”
Zuko froze. “What?”
“An uprising! In the Eastern square! The remaining Imperial firebenders are trying to subdue it now, but you must come quickly!”
They didn’t stop to think. Within seconds Zuko and Aang were gone, the former sprinting for the entrance, the latter retrieving his glider before running out after him. The rest of them sat in stunned silence, the news taking a little while longer to sink in.
They had just risked their lives for a hard-won peace... and it was already over?
Then they moved as one. Sokka tried to stand, but he made it five inches before Suki dragged him down again. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed in his ear. “You’ve played hero enough for the last few days. It’ll be fine.”
Sokka wavered, “It doesn’t feel right,” but then he sat down again, just as across the room, Katara jerked in response and felt her hand spring to her waterskin. She was already drawing out the stopper when five small fingers clamped around her wrist.
Katara looked down in shock. “Toph?”
The earthbender held on, her mouth set in a grim line. “Twinkletoes and Hothead will be fine. But we need to talk.”
Katara wavered, her mind still caught in turmoil. Only seconds before, rage and pain had flooded her veins with such strength she’d wondered how she could hold it all. The stolidity of Toph’s gaze was what anchored her. With one last, semi-despairing look out the door where Zuko and Aang had vanished, Katara let herself be led away.
8 8 8
Toph took Katara to a balcony of stone. It felt right under her feet, the strength of the rock suspended above the air strangely comforting to her senses. When they reached the railings, the younger girl loosened her grip, and Katara took a shuddering breath.
“You wanted to talk?” she asked weakly.
Toph stamped her foot and brought up a seat of stone beneath her. “Yeah,” she nodded shortly. “But I’ll let you calm down first. Your heart’s pounding like a rabbiroo’s.”
“Thanks.”
The two girls were silent for a moment as Katara tried to calm herself down. She didn’t like the feeling of the anger still twisting inside her; it felt ugly as it tangled around her insides and poisoned her blood. She wanted to scream, she wanted to sob, she wanted to feel an ocean of water crashing around her at her will... but there was none around, and she didn’t dare cry out now. So she just felt it bottle up inside her, like steam pushing against a boiling pot, and waited for the explosion.
“Or... we could talk now,” Toph said dryly, her ear cocked to the ground. “Since it doesn’t sound like the fresh air’s doing much.”
“No it isn’t,” Katara agreed tightly, her fists still clenched. “I just... arrgh! I couldn’t even kill that... man, that monster who took my mother away. And... and I wanted to. And he knew that! So how can he blame me like this?”
Toph hmmphed. “Sounds like he’s not the only one.”
“Well of course!” the waterbender threw her hands up in disgust. “It’s not like I’m happy about this either! I didn’t... I didn’t want to kill her. I... Oh La, Toph. She spoke to me before she died. She asked me if she was a monster.”
The younger girl stilled. “What’d you say?”
“I told her no. I’d just watched half the people in the arena go up in flames because of her, and I said no.”
Katara shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “And I meant it. I mean, who am I to judge now? I just... killed her Toph. She died. In my arms. I could have healed her maybe, I don’t know... the thought didn’t even occur to me then. I was just so worried about Zuko, and she was about to shove a fireball down my throat, and I...”
“If you’d healed her, she probably would have just gotten up and tried to kill you again,” Toph interjected bluntly. She was beginning to be just a little bit impatient... worried as she was about both Twinkletoes and Sugarqueen, she hadn’t dragged the latter out just to hear her keep going on and on. She pushed herself off the slab of stone and let it sink back down into the ground again. “Stop trying to justify yourself. I get it. You killed her because she was about to off you, and Zuko was hurt.”
Toph paused. “How did that happen, by the way?”
Katara’s eyes clarified to form a translucent mirror. “Azula shot lightning at me, and he jumped in front of it to save me. La, Toph, I can’t describe it. It’s like... he filled up from the inside out with light. I haven’t been so scared since Azula killed Aang at Ba Sing Se.”
Toph chuckled dryly. “Wow Sugarqueen, you sure are making a habit out of this. A guy gets close to you, and then Azula shoots him down.”
Katara jerked, and annoyance filled her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hey,” Toph put her hands up in surrender. “I just wanted to point the pattern out. Take it however you like.”
“Huh,” Katara’s mouth thinned. “I’m not so sure you can just equate Aang and Zuko like that. Besides, I think your pattern has officially been broken.” Her voice slowed and saddened. “Azula can’t really do much of anything now.”
Toph rolled her eyes. “Oh lighten up! I don’t get you. Azula shoots Aang down, and you get all mad at Zuko. Azula shoots Zuko down, you kill her, and then you get all mad at yourself and Aang. Why aren’t you ever mad at Azula?”
Katara bit her lip. “It’s not that I’m not, it’s just...”
“Just what? I mean, it’s over now. Fine, it’s not like we condone indiscriminate killing, but you did what you had to. We were all ready to do what we had to to stop the war. And we won. Isn’t that what matters?”
Katara half-smiled. “When did you get so wise?” she joked weakly, before her eyes grew hard. Shivering slightly from the wind, she turned away to face the balcony, her arms crossed against her skin. “Seriously? Aside from my own feelings about that, that’s clearly not what Aang thinks.”
Toph felt a sigh work itself all the way up from her toes. Both Katara and Aang were older than her, Twinkletoes by only a few months, but they really didn’t seem to be showing it.
“Aang will get over it,” she said, trying to be reassuring. “You know him and his spiritual-ness, all higher self, chakras, forgiveness, and blah, blah, blah... he wouldn’t be himself if he stayed angry at you for long.”
Katara slumped at that, her elbows leaning forwards to rest on the railings. “That’s the thing, Toph,” she said softly. “I think it’s more complicated than that. I don’t know what it was, but while we were fighting back there I... I didn’t recognise him for a moment.”
Toph stared at the ground. “Aang’s... different,” she said. “I can feel his heartbeat. Before, it was all twittery, like a bird in a cage. Now it’s... I don’t know. Stronger. More sure. I know you didn’t see him when he downed Ozai...” she stopped abruptly and chuckled. “Fine, technically, I didn’t either. But I didn’t have to. When I stepped onto the rock with him, he felt like the mountain itself.”
Katara looked far away, into the steeples of the Fire Nation crags. “And tonight?” she asked softly. “When we were fighting?”
Toph looked down. “Like a bird in a cage again.”
Katara exhaled. “Great, just great. Not only do I kill Azula, but the day he comes back after the fight of his life I make him lose his control again. What else can I do wrong?”
Toph frowned. “Hey, it wasn’t like you were forcing him to do anything. It’s Aang’s fault he lost control, not yours. He just needs to solidify himself.” The little girl cocked her head and then looked sightlessly in Katara’s direction. “‘Sides, what’s with you? Why do you have to take the blame? I swear, Sugarqueen, you’re too motherly for your own good.”
At any other time, Katara might have argued with her. But tonight, the tumult of emotions that had flowed through her had left her just too tired. Perhaps that was why she spoke before she could think.
“Obviously I’m not being ‘motherly’ enough, or I maybe I’m not doing it right. Why else would Aang keep trying to kiss me?”
The instant the words were out of her mouth, Katara’s eyes went huge. Next to her, she didn’t see Toph smirk knowingly and test the ground beneath her feet as Katara reached out to try to snatch the words back from the air.
“No! I did not just say that. I didn’t. There was no saying. Heh...” she looked askance at the earthbender beside her, hopefulness in her voice. “I don’t suppose you could forget I said that?”
Toph’s smirk grew wider. “Not a chance, Sugarqueen. Besides, that’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
Katara groaned, and sank even lower onto the stone. “You knew?” she mumbled into her hands.
Toph scuffed her foot on the floor. “I’m blind, not stupid,” she scoffed, before her eyes opened wide. “Wait, don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
A light blush stained the other girl’s cheeks. Even though Toph couldn’t see it, she could feel the guilty twitch of Katara’s heartbeat and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Of course I knew,” the waterbender muttered. “At least, I guessed. It just kind of became obvious when he said it.”
“Then why didn’t you do anything?”
Katara moved up again, resting her hands lightly against the stone. “I... didn’t know what to say. I mean, we were in the middle of a war, Toph. I was confused. I’m still confused. Besides...” Katara shook her head in bewilderment. “He’s like... he’s like a boy to me.”
Toph arched an eyebrow and kicked up the seat of stone beneath her again. This might be a long wait. “Explain.”
Katara leaned her cheek on her palm and looked out into the Fire Nation. Its capitol spread out below, lights twinkling in the night, and she forgot completely that right now, beneath the peaceful exterior, the boy she was talking about was putting down an uprising. “From the beginning, when I found him curled up in that iceberg, I’ve just always felt like I needed to protect him. He was so small against the white, and again when my village tried to kick him out. And then he was swallowed up by that Fire Nation ship and I remember feeling so, so scared... I just wanted to know he was safe. Protect him. Like... like a child.”
Toph felt that surely now, she could be described as patient. “Uh... reality check, Sugarqueen. Aang’s the Avatar.”
Katara exhaled in frustration and turned away from the railing. “I know, I know that! Of all of us, I think I know that the best! I mean... I’ve always been there when he’s lost control, when he’s gone into the Avatar State, and it’s scary... but I’ve still fought my fear and I’ve held him. I’ve caught him. I’ve healed him. I’ve fought through screaming wind and boiling seas, and... I know what he is.”
There was a long, long, silence.
“No you don’t, Sugarqueen.”
Katara paused. “What?”
Toph stood, and the crunch of rock accompanied her. “You heard me. You don’t know what he is. You know what he was. Open your eyes, Katara. Aang has changed. How many times do you want me to repeat it?
The waterbender froze. How about never? Then I won’t have to think about it.
As if she’d said the words out loud, Toph let out a loud, hearty sigh. “Aang. Is. Different. Changed. Transformed. Metamorphosed. Whatever you want to call it!”
Katara shook her head in denial. “But he’s still Aang.” Still the boy I rescued. Still the boy I held.
Toph paused, as if considering that for a moment, and then she jerked her head, and Katara wasn’t sure whether it was a nod or a shake. “Maybe. But he’s Avatar Aang.”
Again, her blindness didn’t stop her knowing that the older girl was staring at her. Toph sighed again. Who’d have thought that Sugarqueen could be so dense? Then again, ice did float. Toph put her hands on her hips.
“Look, I’m not saying he’s someone completely different. He’s still the Aang we know. But changed. Evolved.”
Katara bit her lip. That did make sense. But still... “Then how do you explain what happened just then? Before?”
Toph blew a strand of her fringe away from her face. “What, when you two were yelling at each other?”
Katara nodded. and then remembered. “Yeah,” she said aloud, a slightly ashamed tone colouring her voice.
Toph smirked. “I don’t know, I think it’s pretty obvious to me. Aang’s the Avatar, not a saint.”
The waterbender looked away. “Whatever he is, he’s still a kid.”
“Oh really now?” Toph’s lip curled. “It sure didn’t feel like you thought he was just a kid at that dance.”
Katara froze. “What do you...?”
Toph just stood there, smirking, and all of a sudden Katara felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Oh. Right. That dance.
It wasn’t like it meant anything, I mean, we weren’t even dancing together most of the time, even when we were in that big circle... and it was just some crazy spur-of-the-moment thing, and...
With a moan, she crumpled onto the balcony again, leaning her forehead against her folded arms. “I am so confused.”
Toph snorted. “Yeah. No kidding.” The small earthbender stretched her toes, and then moved to clunk her own arms down on the thick stone railing. “The real question is, what do you plan to do about it?”
There was a beat, a pause, a break in the air as she thought. “I don’t know,” Katara said slowly, twisting her hair in her hands. It had grown so long since she’d left the South Pole. Or perhaps it hadn’t changed at all, it was just herself. “I don’t even know what I’ll do tomorrow, now, what we’ll all do after this war. I just know I don’t want it to end like this. I don’t just want to go back and live a quiet life and marry a boy like a good Water Tribe girl. I want...”
She stopped, suddenly, as an idea suddenly occurred to her. Toph’s skin prickled in the silence. Below her feet, she felt the vibrations coming from the girl next to her suddenly pick up speed, until her heartbeat was thrumming. When Katara finally spoke, her voice was low and urgent.
“Toph, what was it like when you left your parents?”
Whatever she had been expecting, she certainly hadn’t been expecting this. The earthbender took a deep, quelling breath before she replied. “It was... exciting,” she whispered. “It was scary. It was like nothing I’d ever done before... and it was just so freeing.”
Toph raised her head to the sky, and even though she couldn’t see the stars, she could feel the wind kiss her temple and she smiled. “And even though I know it must have hurt my parents, I don’t regret a second of it. I know that sounds selfish, but it’s true. If I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t be standing here right now, a war hero. If I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have become the greatest earthbender in the world. If I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have known you guys. Leaving made me find myself.”
Toph suddenly stopped. Katara’s heart rate had dropped again, and it beat surely and steadily now like a drum. The younger girl cocked her head. “Wait, why do you ask?”
Katara didn’t say anything, and then... “You said Aang had changed, right? That he was in control. Fully realised. He was Avatar Aang.”
“Yeah,” Toph resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn’t like she hadn’t repeated herself, or anything. “Why?”
Katara straightened and looked out from the balcony with purpose. Her eyes rolled across the Fire Nation, down to its beaches, across the ocean, and back again to its craggy peaks. A faint tugging pulled in her chest, calling her like Yue sung to her at night, and suddenly, for the first time since she’d sunk that ice dagger into Azula’s chest, Katara felt like herself.
Toph felt it in the stone, a subtle shift that made her smile. And across from her, Katara mirrored her grin.
Why?
“Because I think it’s my turn to run away from home.”
