A I R B E N D E R

All my life I watch them as I hide up here alone Hungry for the histories they show me

"Look… Aang, I know you're only trying to help both me and Azula," Zuko began, softening his stance and voice. "I'm sorry I snapped," he apologized, sighing deeply as one hand went to his hip and the other on his nose. Putting his hand over his face when he was stressed was a good place to hide.

"I care about my sister deeply, I do," muttered Zuko, taking a deep breath then as he looked up, collecting himself to speak. "But… when I'm in that same palace and… she's saying those same things and… bringing up those same, horrible things… reminding me of them, taunting me with them, and they happened a couple rooms over… Aang, it feels like they're real again," he admitted quietly, feeling a bit stupid. Of course they weren't real. They were over a decade ago.

"All of a sudden, I'm nine-years-old again and my father is back down the hall," murmured Zuko with a deep sigh. He hated feeling small like this. He hated that Azula — and their father — still could do this to him so easily, whittle him down to nothing.

"I want to help her, Aang. I really do, and… it's not fair to put this all on you, either. You have more than enough going on yourself as the avatar," he derailed, quickly racing past his vulnerable admission. "You don't need to take my crazy, screwed up family problems and add that to your plate on top of everything else, Aang. Don't do that to yourself. It's torture, trust me, and it's not your burden, Aang. It's mine."

Aang listened in silence as Zuko spoke. He could see the exact moment the anger left him, collapsing under the weight of something far heavier. The frustration had never truly been about Aang. It had been about the exhaustion of years of wounds that had never been given the chance to heal before someone came along and tore them open again. As Zuko spoke of Azula, of the palace, of feeling like a frightened child whenever she dragged the past into the present, Aang felt his heart ache for him in a way words could scarcely capture. And when Zuko finally fell silent, Aang lowered his gaze for a moment before looking back up at his friend. There was no argument in his expression, no desire to convince or persuade.

"Zuko, I don't think you're running away. You've spent so much of your life carrying things that were never yours to carry that you've forgotten the difference between responsibility and suffering."  Aang's eyes drifted around the room, taking in the ornate walls and polished floors of the palace. It struck him how strange it was that so many people looked at this place and saw power when all he could see were scars. "You’ve been carrying your father's expectations. Your nation’s expectations. The pain of being hurt by the people who were supposed to love you. And you’ve spent years trying to fix things that were broken long before you were old enough to understand them." His gaze returned to Zuko.

"And you keep looking at Azula and thinking that if you can just say the right thing, or be patient enough, or help enough, then somehow you'll finally be able to save someone from all of this. But every time she throws those memories back at you, every time she reminds you of what happened in this palace, you're not standing here as Fire Lord anymore. You're that little boy hearing his father's footsteps in the hallway and waiting for whatever comes next." Aang swallowed hard, and for a moment, he hesitated, searching for the right words.

"When I found out what happened to the Air Nomads, I kept thinking that if I had been stronger, maybe I could have stopped it. If I had stayed instead of running away, maybe somehow things would have been different. I’ve carried that guilt for years. Part of me always will." His expression softened with old grief. "Katara once told me that sometimes all you're doing is hurting yourself because you think suffering is what you owe the people you love, and I think that's what you're doing now." The words were gentle, spoken with all the care of a friend reaching toward another.

"You love your sister. Nobody who has listened to you talk about her could doubt that. But loving her doesn't mean you have to stand in the middle of every fire she starts. Loving her doesn't mean you have to let her drag you back into the worst moments of your life every single day until there's nothing left of you." His eyes drifted once more to the palace around them. "And honestly, I don't think this place is helping either of you. Every room here reminds her of Ozai. Every hallway reminds her of the person she was taught to become. She wakes up every day surrounded by the same world, and then she sees you, and suddenly all the anger and resentment she's spent years building has somewhere to go." Aang sighed. "And you wake up in the same place where your father burned you. The same place where you lost your mother. The same place where your grandfather ordered your death. The same place where you were taught that your worth depended on earning someone else's approval. Neither of you gets to escape it. You're both trapped inside the same memories." For a long moment, he simply looked at his friend.

"That's why I want her to come with me. Not because I think you're failing her. Not because I think this is your fault. And not because I think I'm somehow better equipped to deal with her than you are." Aang shook his head. "I want to take her away because for the first time in her life, she needs a chance to exist somewhere that isn't shaped by Ozai's shadow. She needs a chance to wake up in a place where nobody expects her to be a prodigy or a weapon. She needs room to figure out who she is without this palace whispering in her ear every waking moment. And I think you need that chance too. You keep talking about this like helping Azula is a burden you have to carry because she's your sister. But whenever you talk about her, I don't hear someone who wants to abandon her. I hear someone who's drowning."

Aang stepped forward and rested a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "You don't have to prove how much you love her by letting her hurt you. And if there's ever going to be a future where the two of you can sit down together and truly begin healing, then I think it starts by giving both of you the space to become something other than the people this palace taught you to be."

  ❝𝓣hank you so much for letting me accompany you,❞ Opal said happily with a bow of respect to the one and only master of all elements. ❝Learning everything that you have to offer will be quite a difference from the walls of Ba Sing Se.❞ She admitted, straightening her posture once again to look up at him. ❝Though it's a welcome change. One I have with open arms, ready to embrace it. I'm done being confined within stone walls.❞ She gave a small shrug of her left shoulder. ❝Do I have to sign any waivers? Or—❞ Her voice trailed off; it was meant as a lighthearted joke. Thus far, she didn't think that they would need her to sign anything. But, since it was her first time joining something like this, it couldn't hurt to ask.

“Waivers?” he repeated with an amused shake of his head. “No, nothing like that. The Air Acolytes don't have forms or contracts. Just a willingness to learn, help one another, and keep an open mind.” His gray eyes sparkled with humor. “Though if we did have waivers, the first line would probably say, 'Air Temple Island is not responsible for unexpected enlightenment, accidental self-discovery, or sudden urges to meditate at.'”

The teasing faded into a warmer smile as he looked at her. He could hear the sincerity beneath her joke, and the excitement and uncertainty of someone stepping into a completely new chapter of her life.

“I think I understand what you mean about wanting something beyond stone walls,” Aang said, his gaze wandering briefly to the open sky stretching across the harbor. “The Air Nomads believe the world is meant to be experienced. We travel because every person, every culture, every corner of the world has something to teach us. Freedom isn’t just about going wherever you want. It’s about keeping your heart open to change.” His attention returned to Opal, his expression encouraging.

“And from what you've told me, it sounds like you're already embracing that lesson.” He spread his arms toward the temple around them, the courtyards, gardens, and endless sky beyond. “So consider yourself welcome here, Opal. No waivers required. Just curiosity, kindness, and maybe a little patience when it comes to meditation. Some of the acolytes still fall asleep during the longer sessions.” Aang lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Between us, I did too when Monk Gyatso was teaching.” His grin widened. “A lot.”

  ❝𝓔asy for you to say when you can bend elements with your mind and it would take a second for you to get the slop and stench off you.❞ Sokka remarked flatly, continuing his way to the river to wash up. He knew it wasn't going to be an easy fix, he might be in there for hours. And it didn't help that the smell was stuck in his nose. Almost the kind you can taste. ❝Like she'd do that for me after I mocked the breakfast she made this morning— and you'd be mad too if you had bog sludge in your underwear.❞ He added, raising his hand to press against Aang's face, playfully pushing him out of the way.

Aang let Sokka's hand squish against his face, his head tilting dramatically with the shove before he stumbled a step sideways. A laugh escaped him despite the smell still hanging in the air.

“Okay, okay, that's fair,” he admitted, rubbing his cheek where Sokka had pushed him. “I'd probably be grumpy too if I had bog sludge in my underwear.” His grin softened into something more sympathetic as he watched Sokka continue toward the river. The joke was funny, but he knew the situation wasn't. The smell alone was enough to make anyone miserable, and Sokka had gotten the worst of it.

“You know, you don't actually have to spend hours scrubbing.” Aang quickened his pace to catch up beside him. “I could help.” He lifted a hand, a small breeze curling around his fingers. “A few airbending sweeps would knock most of the sludge off before you even get in the water. It's not as good as a bath, but it'd save you from smelling like a swamp monster all afternoon.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “And maybe it'll help Katara be a little less mad when she finds out what happened. No promises on that one, though. You're on your own about the breakfast comments.”

❝ Air... bending? ❞ Head tilts with curiosity and intrigue, smile turning more uncertain with her lack of knowledge. However, she could see that he was very proud of this mastery, and that made her happy to see.

❝ Well, I can't say that I know what 'airbending' is exactly, but... if you're a master, you must be very good at it! ❞ Her smile grows once more. Hands clasp together in her lap as she leans forward slightly to meet the boy's gaze, an excited twinkle in her own eyes. ❝ Maybe you could show me? ❞

“Really? You want to see?” The question tumbled out before he laughed softly. “Well, airbending is the art of controlling air. My people, the Air Nomads, have practiced it for thousands of years. It's not just about fighting, though. It's about freedom and movement and living in harmony with the world around you.” His voice carried pride as he spoke of his culture. Even at twelve, there was something unmistakably earnest whenever Aang talked about being an Air Nomad. It wasn't simply a skill to him; it was part of who he was and he was eager to share it. “And yeah, I guess I'm pretty good at it.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “The monks said I became an airbending master younger than anyone in a really long time.”

Despite the modest gesture, his excitement quickly returned. Aang floated to his feet and extended a hand toward her as he laughed, delighted by her curiosity. “Watch this!”

With a simple sweep of his arm, the wind curled upward into a spinning column beside him, carrying leaves, petals, and dust into a tiny dancing whirlwind. It spun harmlessly through the air before unraveling into a gentle breeze that drifted across the field. His eyes flickered back to Rapunzel's, eager to see her reaction. “Pretty amazing, right?” he asked, unable to hide his smile. “And that's just the easy stuff.”

— | | 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃'𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄 . Growing up , hugs were rare . Kind words were scarce . Love was distant . She wasn't used to be people wanting to be around her , beyond the small handful of friends that she had . Azula didn't know what it was like to have someone around who 【 genuinely 】 cared about the thoughts in her head , or who wanted to make her stop crying before she had even gotten the chance . In her room , on her bed , was someone who wanted to do 【 all 】 of those things , and Azula wasn't sure if it was too late to jump out the window into the garden below or not .

It wasn't . She still had time . . . Or , so she 【 thought 】 . Her mind kept telling her to run , to leave her only comforting spot and find somewhere to hide . Her heart , on the other hand , was telling her to wait , because he was drawing circles against her knuckles as if she were made of glass . Her eyes slowly opened , 【 watching 】 the clockwise motion of his thumb . She counted how many rotations he made , and how many it took before she stopped shying away from his touch . The answer was fourteen . . . One for every year that Azula 【 begged 】 for someone to listen to her , but no one ever did .

❝ Trust . . . is a foreign concept in this household . ❞ Azula muttered against the edge of her pillow , her arm tightening its hold . She kept her eyes on their hands , and how they seemed to fit 【 nicely 】 within one another . He guided her hand with steady reverence , not letting it fall until 【he 】 decided to set it down , meanwhile , Azula's eyes followed it upward . His lips brushed the back of her hand , and her own parted in a 【 silent 】 gasp of uncertainty . Golden ambers lifted to his grey - blue ones . Not long enough to be important , but enough for Azula to 【 search 】 them for an answer that she was certain he didn't possess . When he released her hand , just as tenderly as he had taken it , Azula set her hand joined her other on the pillow .

❝ How do you know it was for me , and not for you . . . ? ❞

Quiet eyes watched as Aang's hands moved through the space between them . It took 【 everything 】 in her not to pull away when he slowly undid her hands from her small , squishy layer of protection . In just a few , brief moments , Azula found herself 【 exposed 】 to what he had to offer . Her pillow sat beside them , now — her shield gone , with just him to protect her , now . Then , Aang moved again . This time , he moved close enough to her that Azula could 【 smell 】 the summer poppies and wind - swept grass beneath her nostrils . He moved with caution , the kind of caution that made Azula wonder if he still 【 feared 】 the monster that so many viewed her as .

Regardless of any of that , once again , she didn't pull away . She did not push him away , either . For the first time in a long , 【 long 】 time , Azula let someone hold her the way she had always 【 wanted 】 to be held . Aang pulled her to him closer until she was tucked beneath his chin and against his chest . For a while , Azula just stayed still . Her arms remained by her side , her eyes 【 peering 】 over his shoulder at the canopy that draped behind her bed . Subconsciously , her breathing began to match his . She wanted to cry . . . She wanted to scream . . . She just stared , while his fingers combed through her loose strands like they were water . It wasn't until he said his two , small words of comfort , did Azula 【 finally 】 allow herself to feel . Her hands rested against his sides , head 【 bowing 】 beneath his chin into the comfort he provided . More silent , poisoned tears fell from her shut eyes . Each one that fell held a 【 painful 】 memory from each year of her life .

It would appear . . . Azula had found love where she thought it was 【 never 】 supposed to be . However , she didn't hate it . . . It was just something very 【 new 】 to her , and something that scared her more than words could ever say .

Aang felt the change in the way her breathing gradually fell into rhythm with his own, the way the rigid tension that had held her body together for so long began, piece by fragile piece, to unravel in his arms. She was still trembling and crying, but she was no longer bracing herself for impact. For maybe the first time in her life, she was allowing herself to be held, and that realization settled heavily in his chest as Aang continued running his fingers through her hair, smoothing back dark strands that had fallen loose around her face.

Her question had been left to linger between them — how do you know it was for me, and not for you? — and for a moment, Aang was quiet. His cheek rested lightly against the crown of her head as he considered it. "Because if this were for me," he said softly, "I would be asking something from you. I would need you to get better as fast as possible. I would need you to tell me I was helping. I would need some kind of proof that I was making a difference." His hand drifted slowly down her back before returning to her hair. "But I don't."

Aang's arms tightened around her ever so slightly in quiet reassurance.  "I don't need you to be anything right now. You don't have to be strong. You don't have to be composed. You don't have to be the Fire Nation princess everyone expects you to be." A sad smile touched his lips, unseen against her hair. "You don't even have to talk." The room fell quiet again except for the soft sound of her breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric when he shifted enough to keep her comfortable.

Aang could feel the dampness of her tears against his robes, and every drop seemed to tell the story of years spent carrying burdens no child should have been asked to bear. The more he listened, the more impossible it became to imagine leaving her alone with them. Maybe that’s why he was called here tonight. Not because he was the Avatar. Not because he felt responsible for saving everyone. Simply because the thought of her sitting in this room by herself, grieving and hurting with no one to turn to, had felt wrong in a way he could not ignore.

"Trust isn't supposed to be something you learn overnight," he murmured. "Especially not after a lifetime of being taught that affection can be taken away." His fingers slipped through her hair again as his gaze drifted toward the darkened window across the room. "When I was a kid, Monks Gyatso used to tell me that the hardest thing about learning to fly wasn't jumping." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "It was believing the air would catch you."

His hand settled between her shoulder blades, warm and steady. "Most people think faith comes after you've been caught a few times. But sometimes it comes before. Sometimes all you can do is take a small step and hope the thing beneath you is real." His eyes lowered again to the woman in his arms. "I think that's what you're doing right now."

There was no judgment in the observation because he knew how difficult this was for her. How much courage it took for her to remain in his arms when every instinct was telling her to run. How much strength it took to cry when she had spent years convincing herself she didn't need to.

Aang lowered his head slightly and pressed a lingering kiss against her temple. The gesture was tender, instinctive, protective in a way he’s never felt before, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "You’re the bravest person I know, Azula.” His hand continued its slow path through her hair. "You're letting someone help." Aang closed his eyes for a moment and held her a little closer, wishing with all his heart that someone had done this years ago. Wishing someone had sat beside the frightened little girl hidden beneath all the fire and anger and simply told her she didn't have to earn being loved.

She should have heard those words long before tonight. But since no one else had said them, he would. "You deserve comfort, Azula. You deserve kindness on your bad days just as much as your good ones." He rested his chin lightly atop her head once more. "And no matter what anyone taught you growing up, love isn't something you're supposed to earn." His fingers brushed gently through her hair again. "It's something you're supposed to be given."

Aang simply held her, allowing the silence to settle around them once more. He didn’t rush her grief. He didn’t try to fix it. He only remained where he was, steady and patient, offering the one thing she had been denied for far too many years. Someone who stays.

"Huh?" Sumiko patted her cheeks lightly, as if trying to feel around. "Is there something on my face?"

“Yeah, but I got it,” Aang says with a smile, ever so gently brushing the powdered sugar from her cheek. “You must be a baker?” He guesses.

The just vibes trio 🎶