Chapter 1: The Divided Tribe
Chapter Text
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El viento helado aullaba por las calles de Agna Qel'a mientras Aang se apoyaba en el balcón tallado de sus habitaciones de invitados, mirando los copos de nieve.
"Todavía no puedo creer que haya dicho eso", murmuró, frotándose el cuello con una mezcla de incredulidad y diversión. "Parecía un completo idiota".
Detrás de él, Katara se burló, desenrollando con destreza un pergamino cargado de sellos tribales. "Cuéntamelo. A ese hombre le pasa algo muy grave; con razón ni sus propios aliados lo soportan". Su voz se elevó ligeramente, con ese tono peculiar que reservaba para la política norteña. "Lo juro, estos norteños..."
"Sí", suspiró Aang, volviéndose hacia ella. "Son... difíciles". La palabra parecía inadecuada tras semanas de lidiar con las intrincadas luchas de poder de la Tribu. La citación había llegado de repente: una súplica a la intervención del Avatar tras la desaparición de dos miembros de alto rango del consejo en medio de la creciente violencia entre facciones. La carta advertía de las consecuencias espirituales si el conflicto continuaba... y ahora, con Issuk (el progresista incansable) y Nanuk (el tradicionalista de línea dura) desaparecidos, esa amenaza se cernía más fuerte que nunca.
Katara arrugó la nariz mientras organizaba su itinerario. "No me malinterpretes, me encanta este lugar. Me recuerda a nuestros días de entrenamiento, ¿sabes? Cuando éramos solo niños." Su voz se suavizó. "Buenos recuerdos, a pesar de todo. Pero los espíritus, sus costumbres son tan... anticuadas."
Los labios de Aang se curvaron. «Las vistas lo compensan. Y bueno, al menos el frío ya no nos molesta».
Su risa en respuesta lo reconfortó más que cualquier fuego control. "Cierto. En fin", golpeó el pergamino, "la agenda de hoy: reunión de emergencia del consejo primero, cortesía de ese insufrible Sikuk, seguida de entrevistas con dos testigos. ¡Por fin, pistas reales!"
Esos testigos eran su mayor esperanza. Durante semanas, se habían topado con un callejón sin salida al investigar las desapariciones de Issuk y Nanuk, rivales políticos cuyas batallas ideológicas no hicieron más que intensificarse tras el fin de la guerra. La frágil paz parecía haber radicalizado a ambas facciones, con estos dos hombres en el centro... hasta que desaparecieron sin dejar rastro. Sin notas. Sin testigos. Hasta ahora.
"Por fin", gimió Aang, dejándose caer en un asiento forrado de piel. "Empezaba a pensar que tendríamos que decirle a Arnook que se los tragó un ventisquero".
La mano de Katara se posó en su hombro, rozando con el pulgar el filo de la flecha. "Seguro que están tramando algo. Ya sabes cómo se ponen estos hombres-niños".
Se le revolvió el estómago. "O se mataron entre ellos."
Una pausa profunda. Entonces, sus brazos lo rodearon por detrás, con la barbilla apoyada en su cabeza. "Ojalá que no. Pero esas cartas de ayer... esta es nuestra primera oportunidad real."
Su aliento le hizo cosquillas en la oreja, y tuvo que reprimir un escalofrío que no tenía nada que ver con el frío ártico. "Sí", logró decir. "Ojalá".
Nunca admitiría cuánto lo tranquilizaba su presencia. Cuando llegó la citación, dirigida a "El Avatar y sus compañeros", Sokka y Toph estaban inmersos en la construcción de Ciudad República, Zuko enfrascado en las reformas de la Nación del Fuego y Suki reconstruyendo a las Guerreras Kyoshi. Katara también tenía responsabilidades en el nuevo centro de curación de Bahía Yue... pero allí estaba. Como siempre.
Sus días seguían un ritmo familiar: planeando estrategias al amanecer, resolviendo disputas del consejo durante el día y, inevitablemente, terminando juntos al anochecer, intercambiando historias hasta que el sueño los vencía. A veces, al despertar, la encontraba acurrucada contra él, con su brazo sobre su cintura, protectora, una costumbre que le granjeaba las constantes bromas de Sokka cada vez que la visitaba.
Y cada vez, el mismo dolor se encendía en el pecho de Aang.
*Amigo.* La palabra le supo amarga. La había amado desde aquel primer atisbo en el iceberg, desde antes de saber qué era el amor. Ese beso robado bajo las ruinas de Ba Sing Se aún lo perseguía; su rechazo, la forma en que se había alejado... Había jurado no volver a presionarlo. Mejor esta frágil cercanía que nada en absoluto.
Pero ¿cómo podría su corazón traidor estar contento cuando su risa le aceleraba el pulso? ¿Cuando sus dedos, al recorrer sus tatuajes, le encendían las venas? ¿Cuando noches como estas —su cuerpo cálido contra su espalda, su aroma a sal marina y bayas de nieve inundando sus sentidos— lo dejaban sin aliento?
—Vamos —interrumpió ella su ensoñación, tirándolo hacia arriba—. Antes de que esos viejos inicien una guerra civil sin nosotros.
-
Las puertas de la cámara del consejo crujieron como espíritus moribundos cuando Aang y Katara entraron a la luz de las antorchas. El aire olía a sal y sudor rancio, cargado con la tensión de dos docenas de ancianos tribales divididos por ideologías.
—¡A Issuk lo llevaron a la fuerza! ¡Sus aposentos mostraban señales de lucha! —gritó un hombre corpulento desde el banco izquierdo, con su trenza de cola de lobo temblando.
Desde la derecha, una mujer con pieles de foca ceremoniales golpeó la mesa de hielo con la palma de la mano. "¡Mentiras! Nanuk jamás..."
"Suficiente."
La voz del Jefe Arnook atravesó el caos, más profunda que las grietas de un glaciar. La luz del fuego iluminó la plata de su barba al ponerse de pie. «Somos Tribus del Agua, no nutrias-pingüinos riñendo. Avatar», su mirada se encontró con Aang, «tus hallazgos».
Aang se levantó, plenamente consciente de la constante presencia de Katara a su lado. «No hay evidencia de actividad espiritual; las mareas son normales, no hay tormentas anormales. Pero si este conflicto continúa...» No necesitó terminar. Los restos carbonizados del antiguo cuartel espiritual eran testimonio de lo que sucedía cuando los espíritus se enojaban.
Un anciano demacrado de ojos lechosos se burló. "¿Y si son espíritus? ¿Arreglarás eso también, muchacho?"
Los dedos de Katara se movieron nerviosamente hacia su odre, pero la mano de Aang encontró la suya bajo la mesa; una breve presión tranquilizadora antes de responder. «Si hubiera espíritus involucrados, lo sabríamos. Pero sí», sostuvo la mirada del anciano, «yo mediaría. Con mi equipo». Su mirada a Katara fue breve pero deliberada.
Arnook terminó la sesión con una advertencia sobre la paciencia, pero cuando el consejo se dispersó, el anciano de ojos lechosos los interceptó en la antecámara.
—Perdiendo el tiempo —dijo con voz áspera, bloqueándoles el paso con un bastón tallado en colmillo de narval—. Esos dos enfurecieron a los espíritus. No volverán. Mejor reemplazarlos y seguir adelante. —Sus ojos nublados se clavaron en Katara con una precisión inquietante—. Lo entiendes, niña. Hazle entrar en razón.
Katara se irguió. "No abandonamos a los nuestros".
Los labios del anciano se despegaron dejando ver sus dientes manchados. «El sentimentalismo debilita a la Tribu». Se alejó arrastrando los pies, dejando a Aang observando cómo los hombros de Katara se tensaban; no de ira, sino de algo parecido a un reconocimiento.
"Estás de acuerdo con él", se dio cuenta Aang en voz alta.
Katara exhaló por la nariz. "No se trata de un acuerdo. Esta tribu..." Señaló los gritos que se apagaban en la sala del consejo. "Se están destrozando por símbolos. Las reformas de Issuk, las tradiciones de Nanuk... ninguno de los bandos recuerda lo que realmente importa."
Aang estudió su perfil: la firmeza de su mandíbula, las nuevas arrugas en las comisuras de sus ojos que habían desaparecido durante la guerra. Seis años los habían cambiado a ambos, pero algunas cosas permanecían: su inquebrantable brújula moral, la forma en que sus dedos aún buscaban los de él en momentos de tensión.
"Encontraremos la verdad", prometió.
___
De vuelta en sus aposentos, Aang volvió a desenrollar el pergamino de Uki. La tinta brillaba tenuemente: ¿agua espiritual? Katara contuvo la respiración. «Esto no es solo una súplica de ayuda. Es una advertencia».
Los testigos**
La luz de la tarde se filtraba a través de los cristales de hielo de la puerta de Uki cuando Aang llamó. La mujer que abrió tenía ojos como hielo de glaciar fracturado: afilados como para cortar, pero que albergaban algo más cálido en su interior.
"Eres el Avatar", dijo, haciéndose a un lado sin saludar. La cabaña olía a algas prensadas y hierro: hierbas curativas y armas antiguas. "Soy Uki. La compañera de Yura".
Katara arqueó ligeramente las cejas. Esto no se mencionaba en el pergamino.
Uki captó la mirada. "No es que importe para tu investigación. Pero como Issuk desapareció investigando su destierro..." Sacó una caja tallada de debajo de sus pieles para dormir. "Pensé que deberías ver esto."
Los dedos de Uki temblaron al abrir la caja. «Yura dejó esto». El colgante espiritual que contenía zumbó cuando Aang lo tocó, proyectando sombras azules que hicieron que Katara se estremeciera. «Esa energía... no se parece a nada que haya sentido antes».
—Hace diez años —dijo Uki—, Yura fue a exponer la hipocresía de Nanuk. Nunca regresó. Ahora, Issuk... —Sus dedos se pusieron blancos alrededor de la punta de una lanza—. Me llamarán paranoica. Pero en nuestra tribu, la verdad a menudo se congela antes de salir a la luz.
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El juego del viejo**
Tulok estaba esperando en la encrucijada, apoyado en su bastón como una araña en su telaraña.
"Avatar", canturreó, "He oído que has estado consultando... fuentes poco fiables". Sus ojos lechosos se posaron en el cinturón de Katara, donde ahora colgaba el colgante de Yura. "El consejo valoraría tu informe antes del atardecer".
Los dedos de Katara temblaron. «Qué raro que supieras dónde habíamos estado».
—Me ocupo de saberlo. —Le puso un pergamino en las manos a Aang: otro mapa rudimentario del Monte Kigluark—. A diferencia de otros, yo ofrezco *pruebas*.
Aang lo desenrolló. La tinta aún estaba húmeda.
El rastro falso
La cresta de Kigluark se alzaba ante ellos, sus laderas heladas brillaban con una inocencia engañosa. Las "pistas" dejadas por la facción de Tulok eran casi insultantemente obvias:
- Huellas del tamaño de un niño (demasiado espaciadas para ser naturales)
- La daga ceremonial de Nanuk clavada en la nieve (sin una gota de sangre)
- "Garabatos a carboncillo" en la pared de la cueva: "LOS REFORMISTAS NOS TRAICIONARON"
Katara pateó la nieve, levantando una nube de polvo. "Ni siquiera intentan ser convincentes".
Aang se agachó, pasando un dedo por las huellas falsas. "Querían que perdiéramos el tiempo aquí. Lo que significa..." Su mirada se dirigió al sur, donde el colgante de Yura latía débilmente contra la parka de Katara.
"...las verdaderas respuestas están en otra parte."
El fuego crepitaba entre ellos, su luz pintaba vetas doradas en las mejillas de Katara mientras le arrebataba el cucharón a Aang, que lo revolvía con demasiado entusiasmo. "Si le añades una especia más a ese guiso, ni Appa lo comerá", advirtió, chocando su cadera con la de él mientras tomaba la olla.
La sonrisa de Aang era pura inocencia mientras sacaba un hongo del caldo con precisión de Aire Control. "Solo tienes envidia de mi creatividad culinaria".
"¿Creatividad?" Katara resopló, dándole un manotazo en la mano. "La última vez que te pusiste creativo, Sokka juró que podía ver el mundo espiritual". Su risa se mezcló con el vapor que se elevaba entre ellos, cálido y familiar.
Mientras comían hombro con hombro, sus rodillas se apretaban con la excusa de compartir calor. La trenza de Katara rozó el hombro de Aang cuando se inclinó para robarle un champiñón. "Acéptalo", murmuró, su aliento cálido contra su oído. "Te morirías de hambre sin mí", bromeó Katara, rozando el dedo meñique de él al tomar la cuchara. El pecho de Aang ardía. Seis años. Seis años de su risa como la luz del sol, su tacto como un rayo, todo atrapado tras esa maldita palabra. Amigo.
Cuando el frío finalmente los obligó a esconderse bajo las pieles, Katara se giró con soltura, amoldándose a su pecho. Los brazos de Aang la rodearon por la cintura por instinto, hundiendo la nariz en su cabello. Olía a lirios árticos y sal marina, un aroma que lo atormentaba en sueños.
—Estás pensando demasiado alto —murmuró Katara en la oscuridad, mientras sus dedos trazaban patrones ociosos en su antebrazo.
"Sólo estoy planeando la ruta de mañana", mintió, mientras su pulgar acariciaba la curva de su cadera.
Ella se giró de repente, su rostro a centímetros del suyo en la penumbra. La luz de la luna captó el desafío en sus ojos azules mientras sus dedos encontraban su pulso palpitante. "¿Y esto?"
Aang se quedó sin aliento. El colgante ardía entre ellos.
"Mala circulación", susurró.
La risa de Katara fue un suave soplo contra sus labios antes de recostarse contra él. "Los mejores amigos no mienten, Aang."
Las palabras quedaron suspendidas en el aire helado mucho después de que su respiración se normalizara. En la silenciosa oscuridad, Aang presionó sus labios contra la línea del cabello de ella; un beso demasiado suave para despertarla, demasiado desesperado para retractarse.
Afuera, el viento ártico aullaba con desaprobación. Dentro de su frágil capullo de pieles y medias verdades, Aang se preguntaba cuánto tiempo más podría seguir fingiendo. La curva del cuerpo de Katara se ajustaba al suyo como la última pieza de un rompecabezas que no le permitían resolver; su latido constante era el único ritmo que podía arrullarlo hasta el sueño.
En algún lugar entre el fuego moribundo y la primera luz del amanecer, la respuesta llegó inesperadamente: *No falta mucho.*
Chapter 2: The spiritual journey
Notes:
Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay, but I was doing my best to get my ideas right. Fortunately, thanks to my friend SeleLovesKataang I realized that I need to publish chapter 2 and 3 together, so I hope you find it interesting.
Chapter Text
"I hope you like leftovers," Aang said with a smile as he handed her a bowl of yesterday's stew.
"Well, at least there was something left," Katara replied, returning his smile.
"What are we going to tell the council?" Aang's tone darkened with worry.
"That an old fool thinks we're just as foolish," Katara shot back, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on, Aang, those idiots are trying to play us."
"Yeah, I know... But Yura, Uki, Issuk—we still don’t know where to look or what exactly we’re looking for, aside from the missing people, of course," Aang murmured between bites.
"Hmm... maybe you could go to the Spirit World?" Katara suggested, pulling out Yura’s pendant. "Maybe this can help. Uki wouldn’t have given it to us if it wasn’t important." She turned the pendant over in her hands, curiosity bubbling in her chest.
"Good idea, but I don’t feel much spiritual energy around here," Aang said, shifting into a meditative stance.
"Then we’ll go somewhere you can," Katara declared, already packing their things with that fierce determination she always had when action was needed.
The courage to put backward old men in their place was an unrelenting fire in Katara—one that had only grown stronger after hearing Uki’s story. There was something unsettling about it, something that drove her forward. She didn’t know exactly what, but the mere thought of Uki being torn from her partner—likely because of Nanuk—ignited her hunger for justice.
---
"Do you think Issuk and Yura really used dark spirits?" Katara asked casually.
"I don’t know. But this pendant... I really think it can show us the truth," Aang replied, a hint of optimism in his voice.
"Uki and Yura must have been really close to want to run away together, don’t you think? I mean, they must have cared about each other deeply to leave everything behind and start over, just the two of them," Katara ventured, immediately regretting the boldness of her question.
"Yeah, I guess so," Aang murmured. "Maybe they really liked each other. I mean... who does all that just for a friend?" His voice wavered with insecurity, and Katara noticed the instant regret in his words.
"You don’t think someone would do that much for a friend?" Katara asked, her tone shifting—something between hope and disappointment.
"No, no, I mean—yes, but what I’m trying to say is—" Aang stammered before Katara cut him off.
"Look, there it is—the spiritual gateway," she said, pointing to the chasm below as they descended for a landing.
Katara wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his answer. Her feelings for Aang had always been a storm inside her. Of course, she loved him madly. Nights without him were like dances without music, storms without rain, houses without souls. Simply being near him, existing alongside him, made life worth living. She was happy just to be alive—to be alive with him.
"Okay, now I’m feeling strong spiritual energy," Aang said, hopping off Appa.
"I think I am too," Katara replied, feeling Yura’s pendant vibrate intensely.
They both stared at the object in awe, then instinctively locked eyes. They knew it was time.
"Alright, let’s do this," Aang said, setting up a temporary shelter with everything they’d need for the next few hours.
"I’ll watch over you," Katara said, slipping the pendant around his neck. She lingered longer than she’d admit, tracing the line of his shoulders and jaw with her gaze. When she realized what she was doing, she swallowed hard and let go, cheeks burning.
"I know," Aang said, meeting her eyes directly. Her blush deepened, and his did the same the moment he noticed.
"Eat without me if I take too long," he told her confidently. "Here we go." His voice blended with the hum of the pendant against his chest—then, in a flash, his arrow lit up with the glow of the Avatar State, and his body went still, his spirit gone to the other world.
"You’ve got this," Katara whispered to his empty form, knowing he couldn’t hear her.
As she waited, she couldn’t resist running her fingers over his tattoos. They were warm under her touch. Her hand drifted to his cheeks, tracing his features carefully—still delicate like when they were kids, but now with a maturity that made it clear he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a young man, undeniably handsome.
This wasn’t the first time she’d studied him like this. It had become almost a ritual—when he slept beside her, she could count his lashes, the freckles under his eyes, the way his brows arched so perfectly.
"Come back soon. Don’t make me worry," she murmured, nearly against his lips, before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Time passed, and hunger set in. She prepared a stew for them both with the ingredients they’d gathered that morning. She organized their clothes—even Aang’s, though she felt a little guilty for it. But as she unpacked his things, a folded paper slipped out.
Katara used every ounce of willpower not to look—but it wasn’t enough. She unfolded it.
**Avatar Aang,**
**For the unity of the tribe, the Council offers the hand of Princess Yue in spiritual marriage. Sign below, and you shall be recognized as Prince Consort, with the right to rule beside the next Chief.**
**— Arnook, Chief of the Northern Water Tribe.**
Her heart nearly stopped.
There was no name for the feeling spreading through her chest. Her worst fears, her darkest nightmares—none of them compared to what she’d just read. She had always known Aang belonged to the world, that his duties as the Avatar were essential. But this? This was a desecration. A grotesque act.
And Aang might be part of it.
Not to mention the obvious: he would marry someone. And it wouldn’t be her.
When they were kids, during the war, Aang had been painfully obvious about his feelings. They’d even shared kisses—clear proof that he’d had a youthful infatuation with her. But at Ember Island... she had rejected him. The war demanded it.
Afterward, she hadn’t wanted to pressure him. Didn’t want to seem desperate now that he was the revered Avatar. And some part of her had waited—waited for him to make a move. But that day never came. They remained just friends.
Now, looking back, her reasons for keeping her distance seemed stupid. And incidents like this letter only highlighted how ridiculous the situation was.
Years had passed since Aang had worn his heart on his sleeve. She didn’t know if he still loved her that way. What if he truly only saw her as a friend? What if she’d misinterpreted everything?
But things like what he’d said earlier—*"Who does that much just for a friend?"*—echoed in her mind. Aang and Katara had done countless things for each other. What if he *didn’t* see her as just a friend?
Katara wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.
If he had accepted Arnook’s proposal, it meant he’d already considered it. Already thought about marrying someone else. Leaving her side.
Before she realized it, tears were streaming down her face. She crumpled the parchment in her fist, clutching it to her chest.
*Why would he do this to her?* To his confidante, his partner in good times and bad, his childhood love, the one who worried about him constantly, who couldn’t sleep when he was gone, who loved him like water loved the wind?
*Why?*
By now, hiding her crying would be impossible.
Hiding—she didn’t want to hide anymore. Hiding had only brought her heartbreak. All because she’d never said anything. She’d loved Aang in secret for years, protecting herself from the possibility of his rejection.
Normally, she wouldn’t dream of hiding her thoughts or feelings from Aang. They always shared their worries, their opinions. But now... how could she tell him why she was crying when *he* was the reason?
"K-Katara—" Aang’s voice was hoarse as his eyes flew open, his tattoos flashing bright before fading just as quickly. Instinctively, she caught him in her arms as he struggled to recover.
He melted into her embrace, his own tears soaking through her parka. "Aang," she managed to say, holding him tighter. Seeing him like this shattered her. She leaned back, cupping his wet cheeks, forcing him to look at her.
They were so close...
Aang, still crying, couldn’t meet her eyes. He leaned in anyway, until she could feel his breath against her lips. Katara had to fight every instinct not to close the distance.
Then he pulled back—but not far. Not far enough to stop feeling him.
"Katara... I—" he gasped, still struggling to breathe.
"Shh... shh," she soothed, pulling him against her chest, rubbing circles into his back. "It’s okay," she murmured, even as the words cut like thorns.
When Aang finally steadied himself, he pressed his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes, letting the bittersweet comfort of his touch wash over her.
"Va’eira," Aang whispered, still resting against her. "A spirit. It’s her."
He explained that in the Spirit World, he’d been guided by an owl-eagle-wolf spirit to a massive entity—nearly as large as Koh or the Mother of Faces.
A skeletal figure covered in black ice, with threads of glowing water woven between its fingers like a loom. Its eyes were mirrors, reflecting the deepest fears of whoever looked into them.
Aang described it with lingering fear in his voice. He was the Avatar. He’d faced monstrous things no child should ever see—and he’d done it fearlessly, with the strength the Avatar required.
But here he was, trembling from the encounter.
"When I reached her, I asked if she could tell me about the pendant," he said. "She told me I’d have to find the answers myself. She led me to an ice labyrinth—one that reflected Yura’s memories. She said the pendant carries Yura’s essence and that it would help me. But I only found fragments..."
Aang let out a long sigh. Katara still didn’t understand why this had shaken him so badly.
"I saw Nanuk poisoning the Oasis ten years ago. Yura and Issuk stopped him." He paused.
"And then what happened?" Katara asked, her voice cold with shock.
"I don’t know. I only saw other things—different things." Aang rubbed his face in frustration. "I saw Uki screaming in despair. She looked... hurt."
Katara couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
"Uki yelled, *‘You promised you’d come back, and you didn’t!’ She screamed "She's got away" Aang’s voice broke. "That’s all she let me see."
"But... the spirit said she wouldn’t help you?" Katara pressed, uneasy.
Aang’s eyes glazed over as he looked away. "Actually... she did."
His voice was barely a whisper.
"She said she’s the Spirit of Broken Vows. That just like with Yura, if you don’t hold up your end of the deal, she curses you. She offered me a bargain—she’d show me the truth in exchange for something I could give. I offered her something, but... I guess it wasn’t convincing enough." He let out a sad little laugh. "So she proposed something else."
He stared at Yura’s pendant, now resting in his palm, glowing faintly.
"What was it?" Katara asked, her voice tight with dread, her hand gripping the back of his neck.
"That I have to choose," he said haltingly. "The pact has to be made at the Spirit Oasis. With blood. If I don’t fulfill it... she won’t tell me the truth. And there will be consequences."
"What kind of consequences?" Katara whispered.
"She will take your memories," Aang admitted, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible—the tone he only used with her when sharing his most vulnerable fears.
"I see," Katara murmured, her voice dropping.
They sat in silence until Aang finally broke it.
"But I swear it won’t happen. I’d never let her hurt you," he vowed, gripping her hands, searching her eyes. "We’ll find another way. We just need time—and maybe more information."
Katara sighed. "Alright. We’ll try."
But her mind was elsewhere.
The letter.
"Aang," she said, his name heavy on her tongue as she met his gaze, pain clear in her eyes.
Aang’s expression filled with panic. His eyes darted to the crumpled parchment on the ground.
"Katara," he whispered, voice trembling. "I—Arnook forced me to take it. He told me to think about it, that it was for the good of the tribe. I told him it was insane, that I’d never agree. I’m sorry—I didn’t want you to worry. You know I’d never do something like this."
He looked into her eyes, and Katara swore she could see his soul.
"I know... It’s just—we don’t keep secrets. We tell each other everything. I tell you everything." Her voice was barely audible, the words sharp with double meaning. She clenched her eyes shut against the pain spreading through her chest.
Suddenly, arms wrapped around her, pulling her against Aang’s chest. She could hear his frantic heartbeat. Almost reflexively, she sank into his embrace, her own heart threatening to leap out and join his.
"I’m so sorry. I never should have hidden this from you. I never wanted to make you cry," he murmured into her parka, his hands tracing comforting circles on her back. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to worry you."
"I know. It’s just... the thought of you considering it—" Her voice broke into a sob. "It hurt. So much."
"I’d never let that happen. I’d never let them take me from you," Aang said, his whole body tensing as he held her tighter.
"Thank you," Katara whispered, pulling back to look at him.
For a moment, the cold around them faded into the background. They stayed like that, drying each other’s tears.
"How long ago did he propose this?" she asked, her voice steadier now.
"Two days ago. During that private audience." Aang didn’t stop stroking her back. "I warned him I wanted no part of it, but he begged me to think about it. He forced it on me—said it was life or death. That the tribe’s survival depended on it." His voice shook. "And I was going to find a way to stop it. You know I’d move heaven and earth to—"
He cut himself off. Katara wanted to hear the rest.
"—to make sure it never happened," he finished, nerves creeping into his voice.
"Yeah... I would’ve felt better if you’d told me yourself," Katara murmured, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. Now that he’d grown so tall, she had to look up.
Aang ducked his head to hold her gaze. "I know. I’m sorry."
"Stop apologizing. It’s not your fault," she said softly, pressing her forehead to his.
Katara didn’t want to dwell on it anymore, but she couldn’t help how she felt. Yet here, in Aang’s arms, there was something about him that made her want to follow him to the ends of the earth. She knew she’d stand by him no matter how hard things got. She’d already chosen him long ago—and she knew it was the right choice.
"We’ll face this together," she told him, one hand cupping his neck, the other brushing his cheek. "I promise."
Aang nodded faintly against her.
Their eyes locked, tension thick between them. Katara wished with everything in her that Aang would just close the distance and kiss her already.
But instead, she felt playful lips press against the tip of her nose.
Though the contact disappointed her, she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped—one that Aang quickly matched.
"Let’s present our case to the elders. Maybe they can tell us more about Va’eira—and whether the pact is safe," Aang suggested.
"We could do that. And visit Uki—tell her what we learned," Katara added, enthusiasm returning.
"Okay," Aang agreed, his own energy lifting with hers.
"Don’t think you’re getting out of eating more of my stew," Katara teased, gathering ingredients.
"Never," Aang said with that laugh of his—the one that could warm the coldest heart. "Let me help you."
So they ate together, trying to piece together solutions, easing the tension with sudden jokes, shared smiles, and casual touches of reassurance.
Katara couldn’t stop thinking about their situation. "The Avatar and his duty," she mused melancholically. But she’d accepted that from the day they met—welcomed it with open arms. And now wouldn’t be any different.
Except this time, they wanted to take him away from her.
She wouldn’t allow it. The world had already taken so much from her—her mother, her childhood. Not this time. Katara was no longer a helpless little girl. Now, she had the power to defend herself. To defend Aang.
And she wouldn’t let go.
The Avatar lay in her arms now, sleeping peacefully. The sight alone was enough to unravel her.
"I’ll never let them take you from me," she whispered into his ear, not expecting him to hear. She held him tighter, nuzzling against the ba
ck of his neck, seeking his warmth, brushing her nose against his ear in a silent caress.
"I’d move heaven and earth for you too," she breathed, leaving the faintest kiss on his jaw before finally drifting into a deep sleep.
---
Chapter 3: If bigger dilemma
Summary:
Aang and Katara seek help from the Tribe elders, and learn more about Va'eira.
Aang's memories are still fresh, and everything that happened during his journey is revealed to us.
Notes:
Hello everyone, I hope you like this chapter and Flashback alert almost halfway through the chapter, I hope you can follow the thread and if there are any questions please tell me.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The icy wind howled through the makeshift shelter Aang had built the day before. It wasn’t luxurious, but its strategic positioning kept the cold at bay.
The moment he opened his eyes, he felt the arms of a waterbender wrapped around him. She seemed deep in sleep, her lips slightly parted and strands of hair strewn across her eyes and cheeks. The sight alone melted the young man’s heart.
He carefully freed himself from her grasp, pressing a soft kiss to her palm in the process. The Avatar had always been an early riser—meditating and training at dawn was second nature to him, a habit ingrained by his upbringing among the monks.
After his morning routine, he rigged a simple shower using his bending. A few adjustments later, everything was smooth sailing.
He dressed and groomed himself, then prepared the water for his companion’s shower. Though she was a master waterbender, she’d always loved how he set it up for her. Of course, they didn’t shower together, but they’d spent hours in hot springs, talking and relaxing. Now that he thought about it, he marveled at how, after spending nearly every day together, their conversations never ran dry. Moments like these were opportunities to make her smile—to let her breathe after the chaos of the previous day.
Sunlight barely filtered through the shelter’s seams, and Aang knew it was time. He leaned over the young woman, gently brushed the hair from her face, and kissed her cheek.
"Wake up, Princess. It’s time for your shower," he whispered in that playful tone he reserved just for her.
"Ugh," Katara groaned, stretching sleepily. "I’m not a princess. Just the chief’s daughter."
"Same thing," Aang murmured, keeping the joke alive. She laughed and hurled a pillow at him, sparking a brief, giggly battle.
"Okay, okay! You win, Princess," Aang conceded between laughs.
"Damn right," Katara smirked, victorious.
"Accept a peace offering from me, please, Princess," Aang pleaded theatrically, guiding her toward the makeshift tub he’d prepared minutes earlier.
Katara exhaled in relief at the sight. "You’re a sweetheart, Aang. Did you know that? ...Thank you." She turned to face him directly.
Aang flushed furiously under her gaze, feeling as if she could see straight into his soul. "Uh... y-you’re welcome," he stammered, rubbing his neck. But he quickly regained his composure. "Enjoy, Princess." He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a daring kiss to her knuckles, making her blush and shove him away playfully.
Aang left to give her privacy, stepping outside to survey the landscape and feed Appa. Soon after, he lit a fire to reheat breakfast.
"Ahhh," Katara sighed, stepping out with a towel drying her hair. She massaged her temples. "I really needed that. Thanks, Aang." She sat on one of the earthbent stools Aang had crafted, accepting the bowl he offered.
"Glad you liked it," he said, flashing her a smile reserved only for her.
"Okay, so—council meeting this morning, then Uki’s place this afternoon," Katara proposed between spoonfuls.
"Agreed. We should also request an audience with the Spirit Oasis shamans. They might know more," Aang added.
"And we could ask about the marriage," Katara’s voice dropped an octave, her gaze flickering away. Aang hated when she looked sad—especially when he was the cause.
"Of course. We’ll find a solution," he assured her, resting a hand on her thigh—their silent gesture of trust. Katara met his eyes again and nodded, offering a melancholic smile.
---
"You still haven’t convinced the Avatar to accept the marriage?" An elder councilman hissed at Arnook.
"He refused. Said he’d never agree to such a thing," the tribal chief replied.
"He is the bridge between worlds—the only one who can do this, Arnook. I know you grieve your daughter, but she sacrificed more than any of us for the Tribe. This is how we honor her." The elder gripped Arnook’s shoulder.
"I’m not sure. She’s... not here anymore. We should let her spirit rest," Arnook said, shrugging off the touch.
"Your sentimentality blinds you. The Tribe could be wiped out if we don’t offer them something soon!"
"I’ll consult someone else tomorrow,"Arnook muttered, his voice fraying.
Hidden in the shadows, the Avatar and the waterbender exchanged glances. They’d eavesdropped on the chief’s private conversation—a breach of ethics, but this involved chaining the Avatar to a life he didn’t want.
They slipped away unseen, pausing behind a pillar to process what they’d heard.
"What the hell does he mean by ‘offer them something’?" Katara whispered.
"I don’t know. If spirits demand a tribute, it’s because something’s wrong. I’ll negotiate another price," Aang said firmly. "They’re hiding something. They want us to clean up their mess again."
"Maybe ending this faction war will appease the spirits," Katara suggested, scanning for eavesdroppers.
"You might be right. This conflict is poisoning spirituality... Hey, in Yura’s vision, I saw Nanuk poisoning the Spirit Oasis over a decade ago. But if it’d stayed poisoned, I couldn’t have merged with La, and Yue wouldn’t have sacrificed herself."
"What if Nanuk kept attacking spirits? If he did it once, what stopped him?"
Aang’s voice darkened. "You’re right. Maybe our suspicions were correct—this whole mess is because they angered them."
"Well, we’re not much closer, but at least we’re making progress," Katara said, searching his eyes.
"We’ll keep moving forward. Don’t worry."
---
"There you are! I’ve been looking for you. The Spirit Oasis shamans will see you now," a man announced, guiding them to a grand hall adorned with intricate carvings. Seven elders sat around a circular table.
"Avatar, you honor us with your presence, "the centermost elder intoned.
"Thank you. As you know, we requested an audience," Aang replied, formal and poised—though nerves gnawed at him.
"Indeed. What brings you here, Avatar?" another elder asked stiffly.
"Va’eira. I encountered her yesterday. She offered me a pact. We want to know what you know about her," Aang said, steady despite the dread her name invoked.
"Very well. We will share our knowledge," the elder said, prompting the others to rise and retrieve scrolls.
"Va’eira is a spirit born from the Tree of Time. She emerged from humanity’s first betrayals in the Water Tribes—when leaders broke sacred oaths for power," one recited from a parchment.
"She is not evil, but relentless. She believes oaths are the foundation of spiritual balance," another quoted from an ancient text.
"A pact with Va’eira is no mere contract, Avatar," a third warned, milky eyes reflecting the floating spirit water. "She does not bargain with words... but with memories."
"Yes, well—hypothetically, if she’s already dictated the terms, and it’s not something I want... is there another way?" Aang asked, recalling yesterday’s ordeal.
"A timely question. If so, there is no alternative. She has chosen, and she will not negotiate," another elder explained, his gaze piercing.
"Before swearing anything to her, you must purify yourself—rid yourself of lies and burdens. Secrets." The elder’s voice turned sly. "We will cleanse you the night before the pact at the Spirit Oasis."
Aang bristled. He didn’t trust them yet. "How, exactly, do you plan to do that?"
The room fell silent until a smug elder smirked. "You will confess everything to Tui and La. Besides, you two are... close." He alluded to Aang’s fusion with La—and perhaps the proposed marriage to Yue. "You will immerse yourself in the Oasis, commune with the spirits, and clear your mind. Only then can you speak to them. They will prepare you—purge your impurities."
"The next day, you will be ready. When the moon is new and the pond is still, you may pact with her. But know this: if you break your word, the consequences will be severe."
"Believe me, I know," Aang murmured, the weight of failure crushing him.
---
When Aang opened his eyes in the spirit world, he was met with a towering figure of black ice and liquid silver—a skeletal giantess with mirrors for eyes.
"Avatar," the spirit crooned, her voice like cracking glaciers. "How delightful. It’s been a few lifetimes since we last spoke."
"Oh?" Aang replied, forcing his voice steady despite the chill crawling up his spine. She wasn’t the most grotesque spirit he’d encountered, but something about the way the silver veins pulsed beneath her surface made his skin prickle.
"Mmm. You’ve always fascinated me," she continued, leaning down until her fractured eyes were level with his. "The only human who will never be free. The others die, move on, become stardust or memories. But you? You are bound to this cycle forever. An eternal servant. And yet… you still try."
Then, the visions struck.
In the mirrors of her eyes, Aang saw Gyatso’s skeleton—the exact moment he’d found his mentor’s remains in the Air Temple. His stomach lurched, and he squeezed his eyes shut. But when he opened them again, the reflection had shifted: now it was Katara, her body half-submerged in inky darkness, the ground itself swallowing her whole.
"Ah, there we go," Va’eira laughed as Aang staggered back. "An old trick, but effective. Most humans tremble the instant they meet my gaze. You held out longer than most."
Aang’s throat tightened. He wanted to scream, to demand she stop, but his voice had abandoned him.
"But enough games. You and I are old friends, after all. We got along quite well when you went by Kuruk. You were far more entertaining back then—spent so much time here, drowning your sorrows in my halls."
"So I’ve heard," Aang managed, though the words felt like shards of ice in his throat.
"Yes. He grew so tired of the petty conflicts of your world. They fester here, you know. Rot spreads. Kuruk understood that. He knew how to keep us… content." Her voice dropped. "Well. Most of us."
"Right."
"But you didn’t come here to reminisce," she purred, circling him now. "You want something."
"A spirit guided me to you," Aang said, gripping Yura’s pendant tighter. "I thought you might help me understand this."
"Let’s see what I can do."
Her finger—long and sharp as an icicle—pressed against his chest, and the world shattered.
---
The Labyrinth of Ice
One moment, Aang stood before Va’eira. The next, he was falling.
He landed hard on a floor of black ice, the air knocked from his lungs. Around him stretched an endless maze of frozen walls, their surfaces shimmering with trapped memories.
"This is my home," Va’eira’s voice echoed, though she was nowhere to be seen. "Make yourself comfortable. The answers you seek are here… if you can find them."
Aang pushed himself up, his breath fogging in the frigid air. He had no bending here, but his body was still agile. He moved forward cautiously—until a glint in the ice made him freeze.
Inside the wall, Issuk and Nanuk stood nose-to-nose, their faces twisted in rage.
"Call my sister a ‘peasant’s whore’ again, Issuk snarled, his fists clenched, "and I’ll bury you so deep in the snow, even the spirits won’t find your corpse."
Nanuk laughed, wiping blood from his split lip. "She’ll be my wife soon enough. Your family should be thanking me for dragging you out of the gutters."
Issuk lunged. The two men crashed into each other, fists flying, until guards hauled them apart.
The scene faded, leaving only a date etched into the ice: 17 years ago.
Aang exhaled sharply and kept walking
---
Aang’s breath hitched as the labyrinth walls shifted around him. One moment, he stood in emptiness—the next, he was thrust into a memory not his own.
Memory: The Poisoning
Nanuk staggered back, blood dripping from his nose as Issuk’s fist connected with his jaw again. Behind them, the Spirit Oasis waters rippled ominously.
"You’re losing, Nanuk," Yura spat, her stance firm despite the exhaustion lining her face. "Stand down before you make this worse!"
Nanuk’s eyes darted between the siblings, his breath ragged. Then, with a snarl, he yanked a vial from his belt—thick, black liquid sloshing inside.
"If I can’t have this Tribe’s future," he hissed, "then neither will you reformers!"
Yura’s eyes widened. "NO—!"
But it was too late.
Nanuk hurled the vial into the Oasis. The moment the dark liquid touched the water, the moon above them snuffed out like a candle, plunging the world into darkness.
Yura fell to her knees, her voice breaking. "What have you done…?"
The memory dissolved like ink in water.
---
Memory: The Promise
Aang stumbled into another scene—Yura gripping Uki’s hands desperately, both women trembling.
"Listen to me," Yura whispered, her thumbs brushing Uki’s knuckles. "I—I can fix this. I’ll make a pact with a spirit. It’ll set everything right."
Uki’s breath hitched. "What kind of pact? Yura, you’re scaring me—"
"I don’t know if it’ll work," Yura admitted, her voice raw. "But if it doesn’t… I need to ask you something." She leaned closer, forehead pressed to Uki’s. "Would you run away with me?"
Uki didn’t hesitate. She surged forward, crushing Yura against her. "Try and stop me."
Their embrace fractured like glass, and the world spun again.
---
Memory: The Aftermath
This time, Aang felt the memory before he saw it—the howling wind, the bite of snow.
Uki was on her knees, a miniature tornado of ice and wind pinning her in place as she screamed:
"SHE’S GONE! YOU PROMISED YOU’D COME BACK!" Her voice cracked, raw as an open wound. "YURA! YURA!"
The tornado wasn’t natural. It pulsed with spiritual energy—Va’eira’s work.
And then, faint but unmistakable, a whisper threaded through the gale:
"She’s got away…"
The words curled around Aang like a noose.
---
The vision struck Aang like a physical blow. He felt the tear before he realized he was crying—a single, hot trail carving down his frozen cheek.
Uki had been torn from her lover.
And now, years later, she still hadn’t found her.
The taste of Uki’s grief filled Aang’s mouth—bitter as sea brine, sharp as ice shards. The agony of being severed from the one you love, of reaching for a hand that would never grasp back. It crushed him. For a moment, he let it.
As the Avatar, he knew the world was rarely fair. Tragedy was commonplace. Starvation, war, children burying parents, lovers parted by duty or death—he’d witnessed it all. And always, always, he had to be the strong one. The steady one. The guide who led others through the storm, even when he was drowning in it himself.
But here, in this frozen hellscape of stolen memories, he allowed himself to feel it.
This is the price, he thought, the weight of it cracking his ribs. The price of caring too much in a world that takes and takes. He knew it well. Had paid it a hundred times over.
But this time—
I don’t want to pay it.
The realization was selfish. Ungrateful. He was the Avatar, for spirit’s sake. A power this vast demanded sacrifice. His happiness for the world’s balance. His heart for its survival.
Yet the rebellion in his chest burned.
I want to break the cycle. The “hero’s burden.” I want—
But how?
He couldn’t even muster the courage to tell Katara the truth. Had sworn to himself he’d never ruin what they had, that he’d accept her choices—whatever she wanted, whoever she chose—without complaint.
But how much longer could he keep lying?
To her. To himself.
He’d convinced himself that silence was kindness. That swallowing his love whole would keep them both safe. And if Katara someday walked away? If she built a life with someone else?
He’d smile. He’d stand at her wedding and toast her happiness. He’d be whatever she needed—a shoulder to cry on, a compassionate friend, a lover if she ever asked—because her joy was his joy. Her heart, even ungiven, was the only one he’d ever cherish.
<She has the key to my heart>>, he thought, the admission scalding. <<And it will always belong to her>>.
---
Aang scrubbed at his face, forcing the tears away. He had to move. Had to—
The date.
It wasn’t etched into the ice like before. The realization unsettled him, but before he could dwell, the ground lurched.
Black ice swallowed his knees. The labyrinth melted, and suddenly—
He was back.
Va’eira loomed above him, her mirror-eyes gleaming.
---
The Pact
"Did you enjoy the show?"
Va’eira’s voice snapped him back. The labyrinth was gone. He was on his knees before her again, his cheeks wet.
"I wouldn’t call it that," he rasped.
"Oh, don’t be dull," she sighed. "You watched Koh steal your lover’s face once. This is nothing for you."
"You said you’d give me answers," Aang snapped.
"And I will. But first… a deal." Her grin widened, revealing teeth like splintered glass. "I am the Spirit of Broken Vows, Avatar. And nothing delights me more than a fresh promise."
"What do you want?"
"You already know."
Her finger pressed to his chest again, and this time, it was his memories that flooded the space between them:
- Katara’s laughter as they raced through the air on Appa.
- Her hands, gentle on his scars after a battle.
- The way she’d whispered "Don’t leave me" the night before the invasion.
"Ahhh," Va’eira breathed, delighted. "There it is. The dilemma that keeps you awake at night: ‘Choose her, even if the world burns.’" She clapped her hands. "Now that is a vow worth making!"
"And if I refuse?"
"Then your worst fear becomes reality. But…" She pretended to consider. "For old times’ sake, I’ll be merciful. I’ll just take you
r memories of her. Every glance, every touch, every whispered ‘I love you’—gone. Poof!" Her fingers wiggled mockingly. "What do you say?"
Notes:
Thanks for reading, I'm already working on the next chapters.
SeleLovesKataang on Chapter 1 Thu 07 Aug 2025 03:21AM UTC
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Bloomc on Chapter 1 Fri 08 Aug 2025 01:22AM UTC
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Vapor23 on Chapter 1 Fri 08 Aug 2025 03:41AM UTC
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Bloomc on Chapter 1 Sat 09 Aug 2025 04:22AM UTC
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