*𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒅.

“When watching after yourself, you watch after others. When watching after others, you watch after yourself.”

— Gautama Buddha

Location: Caldera City Time: A day after the City Hall meeting        - Opened for anyone -

     Toph had her hands extended and waving helplessly, wandering around the streets of Caldera City and bumping lightly into strangers. Muffled and innocent ‘I’m sorry’ escaped her lips each time she did it, a secret smirk harboring inside her conscience. Today was one of those boring days. She had nothing to do, Sparky was probably doing some boring Fire Lord stuff, Twinkle Toes was probably meditating at some boring cliff and Katara and Sokka probably still slept… boringly. Toph wasn’t sure if Suki would be around, the Kyoshi Warriors were usually early birds.

     “Oof, I’m sorry,“ she said to a stranger who she sensed turning around on his heels after their collision.

     “Be careful, stupid girl!“ he said, a flick of her finger enough for him to stumble on his feet when he later continued down the path, kissing the ground. “I guess pretending to be helpless can also turn out to be boring.“ She turned to the feeling of presence beside her. “Are you gonna bore me as well? Let’s do something fun for once after this hell of protests and political issues. We can throw pebbles at squirrels or go find a mud or a swamp and go soak ourselves in!“

This was Aang’s first free day since he’d defeated Ozai. Nothing had stopped since then -- he hadn’t had a break. But today, the day after Zuko’s big meeting, nobody needed him. Nobody had called him to another council meeting, or asked for his help, or... anything. So, Aang decided to take the chance to slip out of the Palace before someone caught him and asked him to do Avatar stuff, and went for a glide over Caldera City. He hadn’t seen it properly, from up in the sky, and it really was beautiful. All the bustling people, going about their day, selling things, making their way home. Life was going on as normal for the people not involved in the protests and political struggles. Aang smiled to himself.

And then he saw a man trip over and land, face first, on the ground. Not so interesting. But then he saw Toph standing a few feet behind him, unmistakable, even from above. Aang sailed down and landed silently behind his friend, spinning his glider shut and giving her a slightly teacher-y look he’d learned from Gyatso and Katara. He was going to tell her she shouldn’t use her bending that way, to trip people -- as someone close to him and Zuko, her actions might reflect back on them -- but he hadn’t heard what happened, and she probably had a pretty good reason, right? At least, he wanted to believe she did, because she suggested doing fun things, and he immediately dropped his desire to do the ‘Avatar thing’ and tell her not to misuse her bending. It was Toph. He wasn’t exactly surprised.

Katara chuckled behind her free hand. Just as she had been thinking about how much Aang had matured during their travels and the stress of the past few days, he practically turned into an otter penguin pup in his excitement. It was like someone had flipped a switch in the teenager the second she had mentioned that she could potentially have an idea. “Now don’t get too excited! I’m sure it’s nothing that Zuko hasn’t thought of himself,” she demurred. Though she hadn’t had the opportunity to personally speak with Zuko one-on-one since the fight with his sister, Katara was certain that he had plans to change the way his nation was run. In the time that he had spent with the gang teaching Aang firebending, Katara had grown to respect and to trust Zuko. She trusted that he would do the right thing by the Fire Nation as well.

“Right now his focus should be on the Fire Nation citizens and addressing their concerns,” Katara began, volume dropping in pitch to keep the conversation between the two of them. “But what about after his citizens’ needs are met? What about the citizens of the other nations? Will there just be more and more protests outside his gates?” She let her gaze trail over to the crowded streets, taking in the pitchforks and the shouts and the chaos. No, they couldn’t just leave their friend to fend for himself in a sea of discontent faced at the Fire Nation. “After Zuko addresses the concerns with his own Fire Nation council, I think we should propose something bigger.” 

Katara met Aang’s gaze once more, tightening her hold on his hand that she still held. “A council of nations. With representatives chosen by each nation to work with Zuko and his council. Everyone on equal standing to communicate and work together to bring about this new era of peace.” Realizing that her words had steadily gained volume from the force of her passion the longer she spoke, the waterbender paused for a moment before adding, more quietly, “After all, the crimes of the war are not the Fire Nation’s alone to atone for. All of the pressure shouldn’t be on Zuko.” With the words spoken aloud, hanging in the air between them, Katara suddenly felt a bit embarrassed; it wasn’t like she was the leader of a nation. She was just some teenage girl with a lot of opinions. “But like I said, Zuko has probably thought of this already.”

“Sorry,” Aang said, laughing in a good-natured way. He knew he’d probably gotten way too excited, but, even though Sokka was the ideas guy, Katara had some pretty good ideas too. Anything she came up with would be useful. Zuko needed all the help he could get to quell the angry protesters. So, Aang went quiet and watched Katara eagerly, waiting for her idea.

He nodded as she spoke. She was right-- everyone had demands and requests and stories they wanted to be heard, but change needed to start at the source, and the Fire Nation needed to be addressed first. But that crowd of protesters wasn’t just made up of Fire Nation civilians. Aang followed Katara’s gaze, and looked at the mixture of people standing together -- Earth Nation, even some people from the Water Tribe. They weren’t all there about the council. They couldn’t be. They had other issues, other reasons for protesting. Katara was right -- after the Fire Nation council, Zuko needed to look at healing the pain his forefathers had caused to other nations as well. But Aang knew that already. They all knew that, right? What was her idea?

     The former soldier quite liked the young airbender, the innocence in his voice and poise emitting rays of positivity and firmness that everything would be okay. As much as Qin wanted to bite into this sugarcoated fruit of hope, he couldn’t until he saw actions. That’s how he was trained like. He shouldn’t expect anything less and words didn’t satisfy him. Anyone could promise empty voids and play games of words. Something about the Avatar, however, made Qin believe in the good for the first time since all the blood spilled under Qin Lee’s wildfire. The youg boy’s soul was filled with good and it showed, contrasting Qin’s ichor filled veins.

      Qin felt sorry that for his sarcastic remarks and attempts to make Aang snap.  “I will take your word then. I had a-“ Qin bit his lip. Was this right? “I held a speech at these protests, alright? But it was needed. I think you out of all people will agree that pent up emotions are a ticking bomb ready to explode.“ He paused. “I’ve always admired the stories of the air nomads and their ability to meditate and completely let go of their turmoils.“ Just the mention of the now non-existant airbenders made Qin shiver. Even though he wasn’t even born yet when Sozin had completely anihilated their homes, Qin couldn’t help but feel some form of repentance was needed on his side.

     “Yes, that’s me. Qin Lee. Former soldier of the Fire Nation Military. Current atoner. Or at least I try.“ Qin cracked a small smile and dropped his dogtag underneath his linen shirt after. It wasn’t needed anymore. The soldier returned the bow and looked Aang in the eyes. He figured that the Avatar presented himself with his first name because the heavy shoulderplates of the Avatar duty were the new responsibility the boy had to live with during his entire life now. Qin kind of understood that problem. His onyx colors contrasted againts the airbender’s walnut tints, the moment of silence much appreciated by Qin. “I suppose I must believe you then, Aang.“ The firebender offered a small smile. There was no need to argue with a person who had nothing but good inside of their being.

Aang knew he couldn’t behave like that. He’d snapped at a former soldier, in front of the protesters. He was the Avatar -- he couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. So, he breathed slowly, and met Qin’s gaze, and heard him out. This wasn’t a time for more fighting. This was a time to listen, and understand, and be patient. There is a time for everything, Aang, Gyatso used to say. Even anger. Sometimes, especially anger. But now wasn’t one of those times.

“You’re right,” he said, peaceably. “Pent up emotions aren’t a good thing. You needed to speak I know everyone needs to be heard at the moment.” He turned to look at the crowd of protesters. Everyone needed to be heard, but everyone needed to listen too. The way they were all yelling and shouting over each other, no one was hearing anyone else. “The monks used to say that we had to let go of our turmoils,” he agreed, still looking at the protesters. “But they also used to say that you had to work through something before you could let it go.”

Katara solemnly watched as Aang turned to survey the crowd with glider in hand, once again feeling a pang of regret in her chest that the world wasn’t a kinder place. Instead, it was greedy and demanding, always taking, and taking, and taking. It had taken Aang’s childhood. (It had taken all of their childhoods, if she were to be completely honest.) And now, when the war was finally over—when a well-earned rest was just within their reach—it came calling with further demands and responsibilities. And because Aang was the Avatar, he was expected to sacrifice everything once again to answer the world’s call. And because Aang was Aang, he would do it without complaint.

It was too much weight for one person to bare. Just as Katara knew that Zuko would need Aang’s help, she knew that Aang would need help, too. So when Aang turned back to her with the quiet question of what she would do, Katara’s answer sprung immediately to her lips without hesitation. “I’ll be here to help you.” She reached forward to give his free hand a reassuring squeeze, her expression still serious but not as solemn as it once was. “I may not be the great Avatar,” she shot him a small teasing grin, “but I can at least provide another perspective. We’ll help Zuko through this.” She was confident they would. And then after… after the fire was put out here in the Fire Nation capital (no pun intended), Katara would figure out what path her future would take. She couldn’t promise Aang that she would always be by his side, but she would at least remain there for now.

For a moment, Katara just allowed herself to look at Aang, committing this moment to memory, her hand still gently holding his. Though he hadn’t lost his childlike demeanor, their journey had taken a toll on the boy—no, teenager—before her. She was so proud of the person he had become. He had done great things for the world, and Katara knew that he would continue to do more… even if she wasn’t there to see them. But she didn’t have time to sappily reminisce right now. “Are you planning to speak with Zuko again soon? I’m not a politician by any means, but I have an idea that may help…”

As soon as Katara said she’d be here to help, Aang felt himself relax. He hadn’t realised how much he needed her until she said she’d that. He knew it wasn’t fair -- she’d already travelled across the world for him, and faced danger so many times -- but he still needed her for whatever came next. She’d helped him so much. She squeezed his hand, and he wanted to throw his arms around her and hug her, but the protesters could still see them, and he had to act like the Avatar. Which meant no hugging his maybe-girlfriend. So he just grinned, looking at her so that only she could see.

“Yeah, we will,” he agreed, when she said they’d help Zuko. He liked that he could say we. He’d been afraid of her answer, afraid that, now the threat of Ozai had passed, Katara would want to go home to the Southern Water Tribe. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. If he could have gone back to the Southern Air Temple ruins again, just to see it -- if he could have taken some time for himself -- he would have done. But he couldn’t. Already, he could feel the responsibilities and pressures of being the Avatar weighing down on him. He’d defeated Ozai three days ago -- he could still feel the heat of Ozai’s flames burning through his rock shield, melting it, and he could still hear the clear ringing of his energybending, clearly in his head. He’d only just saved the world, but his duties weren’t done, and he knew it. When he talked about them, he focused on building a better world for everyone, and bringing peace, like Zuko had said. But when he thought about everything he still had to do? He felt tired and sick and overwhelmed.

Ming listened patiently to Aang speak about mastering the elements, then moved to sit on her knees beside him. She continued to listen as he told her about Sozin’s Comet, his fight with Ozai, and the Air Nomads. She tried to show little emotion out of respect, but once he finished, she could tell that Aang needed a hug. She put her arm around him, and tried to think of something that would make him feel better. “The Air Nomads aren’t gone. Sozin might have tried to get rid of them, but in your memory they’ll live on. And with every story you tell and lesson you give, they spread to a new mind, and live in a new heart. A person or peoples’ mark on the world isn’t always about heritage, but about culture too.”

Removing her arm, she left him to his thoughts as she retreated into her own. She tried not to revisit the day of Sozin’s Comet often, but remembered it vividly. It had started with Ozai declaring himself Phoenix King in front of the entirety of Caldera City. Ming had been there, in the crowd, thinking that the world had truly ended and that there was no hope. The feeling of dread lived in her stomach as she and the other civilians went back to their homes. She had taken Iroh’s suggestion, to call in sick, and thus was not in or around the Palace when the madness erupted.

She had, however, felt the power of the Comet in her blood. Sparks flew from her fingertips without her intending to do so, and the heat her body imitated was growing stronger every second the Comet was above head. She had thought she was dying, and stumbled outside to feel the breeze on her skin, a vain attempt to cool her body. Looking up toward the Palace courtyard, red and blue flames lit the sky. The battle was between Azula and Zuko, but she hadn’t known it at the time. Once the Comet was gone, Ming’s body relaxed on the ground outside her house, and history had been made without her knowledge. She tried to return to the reason she had asked to hear the story in the first place.

What was the lesson behind this story? The deadline of Sozin’s Comet had put pressure on Aang and his friends to achieve what hadn’t been done in a hundred years… A deadline, that was it! If it hadn’t been for Sozin’s Comet, Aang would have taken years to master the elements and then defeat Ozai, and nothing would have changed until then. Ming thought this to herself, not wanting to bring up the idea to Aang while he was still sensitive to the topic. Instead, she squeezed his hand with her own. “Thank you for sharing. Maybe someday you’ll write a book and everyone will know what really happened. I mean, I know the Ember Island Players did a play about you guys, but something tells me it wasn’t as accurate as your version of the story would be.”

When Ming put her arm around him, Aang realised all the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders. He tried to be aware of things like that a lot -- he tried to carry himself lightly, loosely, the way the monks had taught him -- but talking about his people just opened up a hole inside his chest. A black pit that hurt and hurt. He knew that Ming was right, and he had to keep the Air Nomad’s beliefs and teachings alive, and he knew that Guru Pathik had been right too, when he’d said that the Air Nomad’s love was still inside him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss them. He missed his friends, and his teachers. He missed Gyatso, even the Council of Elders. He wanted someone to play Air Ball and Air Tag with, someone to celebrate Yangchen’s Festival with, someone to glide with.

“Thanks Ming,” he said, in a quiet voice, not full of warmth and excitement like it usually was. He managed a smile. “I know you’re right. They’re still in here --” He put a hand on his chest, and it might have sounded corny, but he meant it. He wasn’t ashamed to say it. As long as he kept his people’s memory alive, they wouldn’t be gone. They had already been gone for a hundred years, while Aang had been under the ice. And now it was his job, as the last airbender, to make the world remember them.

She let go of him, but that was okay. They didn’t really know each other, and hugging like that didn’t seem like something she was comfortable with. He straightened up, and smiled at her patiently. He didn’t mind tell her his story, not if she wanted to hear it. She didn’t say why she’d wanted to hear it, or if it had helped, but he had the feeling it had, somehow. And that was good enough for him. He shrugged with one shoulder. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, casually. He hadn’t thought about it. Had the other Avatars written books about their deeds? He didn’t know. But he remembered the way his teacher in the Fire Nation had said that the Air Nomads had a formal military, and he thought that maybe a book would be a good thing, to set the record straight. And the Ember Island Player’s play had been stupid. He wrinkled his nose when Ming mentioned it.

     “Well, that’s a bit dumb. Somebody ought to be guarding our new Fire Lord, right?” Qin quipped, lifting his left eyebrow. “I reckon the Avatar is more than capable to guard him, though. After all, you are the one who put an end to the misery this world was.” But are you ready to put an end to Zuko’s tyranny, should he reach extremities much like his father? Qin wanted to ask Aang that, but he kept his mouth shut for now. Why should he ruin the ‘friendly’ conversation when he could keep the cards close to his chest?

     “How much time?“ he asked, sincerely. “I understand that, but is he planning on telling us he needs time for two months straight? I know this entire Fire Lord thing was unexpected as much as Ozai’s dethroning was uncertain just a few weeks ago, but I’m sure Zuko has thought about this in the past.“ Qin paused, considering his next words very carefully. “Leading, ruling, changing the Nation. All these years in exile which he presumably spent to hunt you, he must have had thoughts of dethroning his father and doing something else to the Nation. Good or bad.“

     Qin wondered if the Avatar had seen him protest and hold a speech in front of random Fire Nation villagers. He didn’t know if it was best to reveal his identity yet, but knowing the most powerful bender in the world personally was a privilege and an advantage. Schemes were forming in his mind and only if he had someone to share them with, Aang would serve as the promise Zuko would follow his orders. The Avatar had to remain neutral and aid in dire need for the world’s wellbeing, so Qin only wondered if he would practice his bending-taking skills against his very good friend, should the need arise. 

     The dog tag from his neck was hanging loosely. Qin didn’t cover it up on purpose. On the front of it, there was Qin Lee’s name and another name, which he kept close to his heart. He still wondered if she was alive. “I’m used to war and scars. I can’t help but be a sceptic of change. All these people will have a hard time getting used to their new ruler who they don’t know a single thing about. That’s all I mean.”

“People are guarding him,” Aang snapped back, gesturing to the literal guards standing at the gates of the Palace. He knew he’d spoken sharply, and he shut his mouth and exhaled slowly. It was the stress of the protesters, his protectiveness over his friend, getting the better of him. He couldn’t talk to anyone like that, especially not a Fire Nation citizen, in the middle of a protest. As he breathed out, he imagined the anger as a red cloud, billowing out of his mouth. It was a very old trick Monk Gyatso had taught him. 

When the stranger asked how much time Zuko would need, Aang saw him for what he was. Just a guy who wanted answers. And he wished he could give them, but he didn’t know. They couldn’t put a date on it yet. But, instead of saying that, he said, “Of course he’s had thoughts of it. But it’s not my place to talk about the Fire Lord’s plans.” He knew it sounded like he was dodging the question, and he kind of was, but it was true, too. “He’ll make a speech and tell everyone what his plans are when he’s ready to,” he said, in an even, calm tone. “In the mean time, I’m not here as his representative.” It was surprisingly hard to remember that, but it, too, was true. He was the Avatar, not Zuko’s ambassador.

Maybe that’s what she needed to do, trust those that knew more than her. But, wasn’t this different? Hadn’t they tried that and it ended up being a complete, throw-the-whole-world-into-chaos disaster? It was good advice, but how could she follow it? To trust blindly in a 19 year old who comes from generations of horrible people to lead the nation, it just wasn’t that simple. But, something inside her understood Aang’s story, too.

Hadn’t her own life parallel at least a bit to his own? In many ways, she had always known she was destined to help her country in a time after the Hundred Year War, but her time in the military had frozen her, too. And Iroh… he had gotten her out of her own iceberg, and she trusted him just like Aang had trusted those around him. So maybe it wasn’t that simple, but maybe it wasn’t that difficult either. All she needed was a fail-safe, something that could ease her and the other protestor’s minds while they gave Zuko the chance to prove himself. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Aang. I think I can relate, in a strange way.” 

She noticed his smile, and tried to put a small one on her own face to show him she really appreciated his presence. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you know that this last year was the year you had to take down Ozai and end the war? I mean, I just figure you need more than one year to master all four elements, but you didn’t wait.” She felt like maybe if he answered her, his story could give more direction to his own, and so she waited patiently for his answer with eager eyes.

Aang had liked Ming, when they met at the coronation party. He’d liked what she represented, which sounded kind of strange, but she’d represented change. She’d shown him what he’d always known, ever since he’d heard the Fire Nation had become an empire -- that not every Fire Nation civilian was like Ozai. Even Ming, who’d been as close to the Royal Palace as a civilian could be, had wanted change, and tried to do good. And now, here she was, involved in the protests, making her voice heard. As annoyed as he was that the protest had happened during Zuko’s first council meeting, he knew why they were protesting.

“That’s okay,” he replied, peaceably. He didn’t mind talking about what had happened to him, especially if it could help her. And, when she asked how he knew he had to take down Ozai, he couldn’t tell if she just wanted to talk about his Avatar journey to deflect from what she was going through -- which was fine -- or if she just wanted to know, or if she wanted to learn something from the story. It didn’t really matter. He smiled, a little more wearily this time. He realised this was his first time telling the story, since it had all happened. “Yeah, I would’ve liked more time to master the elements for sure,” he said. He could smile about it now, but when he remembered Roku telling him had to do it before the comet came, his insides still went cold. “It’s supposed to take years, but I didn’t have years.”

zuko nodded, not quite absently, at all that aang said. he was still captured in thought ; ideas of this and that, where fate would take him and the rest of his nation. little changes and little fixes added up over time. they could create a current that would drag them all under should he not be careful. he clenched his fists, blunt nails digging into his palms. he was going to be careful — and eventually, he was going to be great. he was sure of it ( not really, but he was hoping and wishing and doing all that he could to ensure it ). 

he looked surprised at his friend’s words. he didn’t consider speaking to the councilmen as an action, not really, but he supposed aang was right. it was the first step, a little one albeit, but he hoped it would show as progress to his people. “ you think they’ll see it as that ? ” he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “ if i could take bigger action, i would, honest. ” he felt incredibly young in that moment, like he were just a child playing pretend. “ but i don’t want to make a mistake. i don’t want to hurt people any more than they’ve already suffered. ”

Aang knew he shouldn’t take sides. He was the Avatar -- it was his job to be impartial. And he knew the protesters weren’t wrong. They’d lived under tyranny for years. They just wanted to be heard. But, as he looked at Zuko clutching his fists, his mind obviously far away, he couldn’t help but feel a little angry, on his friend’s behalf. This was Zuko’s first big action as Fire Lord -- his first time facing his father’s old council. And the protester’s had chosen now to act? It didn’t seem fair. Zuko hadn’t even been on the throne for three days, and people were demanding that he fix all of his father’s and grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s mistakes?

At least Zuko had done something. He’d shown the people that he was willing to change things. When he asked if they should see it that way, Aang almost shrugged, but he knew Zuko needed more than that, so he said, “I don’t know. I hope so.” People had been angry, out there. He had no idea if they’d see Zuko’s small action for what it was. He looked at his friend sadly. “You won’t make a mistake, Zuko,” he said, believing it totally. “As long as you listen to advice, and weigh everything up before you act, you won’t make a mistake.” Zuko wanted to be different from Ozai. And Aang had to believe that was enough, at least for now. “You’ll be able to take bigger actions. Just... not yet.” He took a deep breath. “But... d’you know what bigger action you want to take?” He didn’t want to put too much pressure on Zuko, but they had to talk about this.

At the sound of her name being called, Katara dragged her gaze away from the protesters, blinking as though waking from a dream. Though she should have expected that he would find her within the crowd, she was still surprised to see the Avatar suddenly standing before her. “Aang,” she breathed, reaching out to gently place a hand on his arm. Without even realizing she was doing it, Katara gave him a quick glance over to ensure that no harm had befallen him as he had made his way through the crowd to her. Though the teenager in front of her had defeated Ozai and saved the entire world, she couldn’t help but still feel protective over him even now. (It seems old habits truly did die hard.) Satisfied that he was safe and sound, she returned his smile. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Dropping her hand from his arm, Katara nodded, her smile turning solemn. “Yes… but I was a bit more distracted by the crowd.” She slowly shook her head. “I mean, we knew there was the potential for protesting, but I never imagined it would be like this.” She gestured a hand to the scene before them. Though some citizens had evidently been pacified by Aang and Zuko’s speeches and had dispersed, the majority of the crowd seemed to be just more incensed than before. “There is a lot of healing that will need to be done here. Not just between the Fire Nation and the people of the nations it wronged, but also between the Fire Nation and its own people.” She let out a slow sigh, blowing a few strands of hair away from her face. “Zuko is going to need all the help he can get.”

Though she was hesitant to broach the subject of the future, not completely certain herself where her path lay, Katara knew that she couldn’t put off the conversation forever. Especially with the gut feeling she had that this protest was just the spark of something more. Gaze determined, she met the Avatar’s eyes. “Zuko’s definitely going to need your help, Aang… Is that what you’re planning to do?” Now that the war was over. Now that they didn’t have a single common goal—like defeating a crazed Fire Lord—uniting them. If Aang said yes, would that become Katara’s plan too?

Being with Katara made everything feel better. Aang could ignore the crowd behind them, even if it was just for now. He felt calmer and safer immediately. But, when she said she was distracted by the crowd, his smile faded a little. “Yeah I know,” he said, seriously. He knew a lot of people were still angry, and they wanted justice, but this? When he thought about the work he still had to do -- the weight of responsibility that still hung over his head -- he wanted to run away, like he had at the Southern Air Temple. He knew that was wrong, and he’d never, ever, abandon his friends, and the people who needed him -- not after what had happened -- but it didn’t stop him from feeling it. He might have been a fully realised Avatar now, but he still felt sick when he thought about how many people were counting on him.

But, as bad as he felt, he knew it was probably nothing compared to what Zuko felt. He met Katara’s gaze. Part of him wanted to tell her that he didn’t know what he was planning to do -- what should he do, as the Avatar? Should he go visit the Fire Nation colonies, and try to get them to leave Earth Kingdom territory? Should he stay here, and help Zuko deal with the requests of the Fire Nation people? Should he try to rebuild the crumbling, ruined, architectures of his people, and preserve the Air Nomad culture? In his heart, he knew what he wanted to do. What he had to do. And he nodded.

the council chamber seemed smaller than he remembered it being as a child. if he closed his eyes, zuko felt small, everyone else towering above him in the vast room. and ? he was the equal of all else there, if not their better. for so long, he had given up on the idea of leading this room. it still felt unreal. the door to the room opened and he glanced over, his gaze narrowing as he prepared to speak ( maybe yell ) at one of the councilmen returning to fight for the cause.

instead, it was aang.

“ it went as well as it could have gone, ” he deadpanned. “ for my telling them the majority of them would likely lose their positions, i did imagine more fireballs being aimed at my head. ” it was the right thing to do to let them know that change was coming. there was no sugarcoating it or giving them false hopes. “ and i’m not surprised at the people, not anymore. they want actions, not just words. when i’m able, i’ll give that to them, but not any time sooner. ”

Aang stood with a straight back, trying to make himself taller. He didn’t even look around at the council chamber -- the place that he’d imagined in his nightmares, when he’d thought about fighting Ozai, the place where three generations of Fire Lords had planned. The room where Sozin had probably talked about destroying the Air Nomads. He gripped his glider a little tighter, but focused on Zuko. He needed to focus on Zuko right now. He knew people were angry, but his friend’s first council meeting was the worst possible time for something like this to happen.

     In any other instance, Qin would show his teeth to whoever had tried to bring him to the ground yet again today. But, he never expected to meet with the Avatar right after his peacemaking speech. Quite frankly, Qin wasn’t impressed with neither Zuko’s nor Aang’s attempt to convince everyone it’s all going to be fine. He wasn’t sure if the two now world leaders knew what the steps to making this right even were, but Qin had expectations for both, the new Fire Lord and the Avatar that had taken Ozai to his knees. Shall they not meet them, those protestors would turn into something more than just an angry mob. A civil war would form and things were going to get ugly.

     “I am calm. Or, I was.“ It was the sheer truth. He had done nothing but watch and see what would happen until he let out his emotions go like an overflowing bucket of poisoned water. Qin’s feelings and disgust from what the Fire Nation Royalty had done to him and much other soldier sin the Army was driving him sick and he had to say something back when he was ushered to. Maybe now fate was telling him that should he want his words to reach Fire Lord Zuko, they must pass through the Avatar as well. 

     “Probably.‘ Qin grimaced, fixing his cape and dusting off the dirst off his clothes. He was surprised that Aang had had noticed exactly this scene only. It was almost suspicious. “To what do I owe the audience of the Avatar in all his glory?” Bewildered, Qin continued. “ Are you part of the reinforcments? Or you’re here for a quick oolong tea?“ Qin sighed, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic on purpose. It’s been a lot around here as you probably have noticed. I must imagine everybody is confused right now, both protestors and royalties alike.” he paused. “I must say the people’s words have some truth to them, don’t you think?”

Something about this guy put Aang on his guard immediately. He carried himself like a soldier, and he gave Aang a dark look as soon as he spoke. He’d thought this would be an easy dispute to solve -- one good, simple, thing he could fix in a crowd of protesters all getting riled up and angry. But something told him that this was gonna be a bigger deal than just resolving an easy dispute between two angry strangers. For one thing, the other guy had left, but this man was still looking at Aang like he didn’t like him. Aang was used to that -- he knew he wasn’t universally loved -- but he hadn’t seen it for a while. He’d spent the last few weeks around his friends and allies, preparing for his big battle with Ozai. It was still kind of strange to be around Fire Nation civilians.

“There aren’t any reinforcements,” he replied. “We don’t need any.” That wasn’t completely true -- the Palace was guarded, but Zuko didn’t seem to be sending anyone out here to quell the protesters. And Aang thought that was the right thing to do -- it might turn ugly if the people thought they were being shepherded away. They had a right to be here, as long as they didn’t turn violent. But then, when the stranger apologised (at least, Aang decided to see at as an apology) he smiled a little. “But... yeah, it’s been a lot,” he agreed. He didn’t wanna have a fight with a complete stranger, after all. Not in the middle of a crowd, or at all, if he could help it.

A small smile, paired with his huge ears, was all it took from Aang to remind yourself that he’s a child. Even a smile tainted by worry and sadness still shone with the naive and wonderful nature a child should have. How could all of Ming’s frustrations with him not flood out of her at the sight? She thought about her own childhood, stressful and painful, and knew that it couldn’t compare to what he had gone through. Her frustrations were replaced by another familiar feeling: guilt.

She had put a child on blast in the name of political gain, and now she felt the repercussions. She looked into his eyes, and listened as he said that it was his job to be the Avatar. Ming couldn’t tell him that no, his job was to go to school, make friends and stay out late watching the sunset hoping for your first kiss- but she wanted to. Instead she listened to him, and contemplated what she could say instead. “Thank you, Aang. I’m doing better knowing you’re here, trying to help.” 

Her words didn’t flow with the direction of the conversation, but it was genuine none-the-less. She let out a sigh, and leaned against the wall. A familiar position, one she had used when they had first met, and one she harkened back to in uncomfortable times. She looked up, the sky was clear. I wish my head was the same. “I’ve said and done some pretty harsh things today. I think we’ve all acted without knowing, a bit. But that doesn’t make this any easier.” 

She looked at him, right into his eyes, and had to look to the ground. “I’m sorry, Aang. You’re,” She wanted to say just a kid, but hadn’t he lived more life than any adult she knew? “You’re doing the best that you can do, and I shouldn’t have acted as if that wasn’t enough. The truth is everyone has a part in getting to this point in our lives, no matter how small.” She felt tears welling up in her eyes, but tried to continue. 

“There’s this thing in the military that happens when you leave. It’s like, you’re back to being an infant again, alone and scared. But you’re actually this adult who needs to be a part of society, but you don’t know how because everything has changed- or it’s stayed the same and you’ve been gone too long to recognize it anymore. I guess I saw today as an opportunity to be part of something again, a group that needed me.” She blinked hard, trying to fight tears and her throat that wanted to close up. She took several deep breaths, and looked at him. 

“What we’re doing, it’s important. But no one knows the whole story, really. Do you think that we could try and piece it together?” She felt exponentially vulnerable and stupid, but what could she do? It had been a very rough day, for everyone. She wasn’t herself and she knew that, but maybe she needs to be uncomfortable and sappy to be a better version of herself, one that was worthy of leading the people.

Aang brightened as soon as Ming said he was here to help. It seemed random -- he’d liked her, at Zuko’s coronation, but now she’d been part of the crowd of protesters. He didn’t know her well enough to know where she really stood. “You are?” he asked, feeling kind of stupid for saying it. But he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, so he added, “That’s great.” Why would she say it unless she meant it? If she had a problem with what he’d said during his speech, she would have told him, right? At least, he hoped she would. But, maybe she was still awkward, because of the whole Avatar thing. Maybe she didn’t wanna speak her mind.

He met her gaze with his own widened eyes, until she looked down. And then he just went quiet, and listened. Just like when they’d first met at the coronation, he could see that she needed to talk. So, he straightened up a little, and listened patiently. He didn’t speak, or interrupt at all. He just stood there, taking it all in. Her voice sounded thick, like she was trying not to cry, and, suddenly, it didn’t matter if she was one of the protesters who seemed angry at him and Zuko for what they’d said, or if she was one of the protesters who was demanding change three days after Zuko had taken his father’s throne, and Aang himself had defeated Ozai. She was upset, and she needed someone to hear her out. So, he did.

“Yeah,” he said, gently, when she’d finished. “We can try and piece it together.” He thought about what she’d said, about being an infant again, and needing a group to make sense of the world now she’d left the Fire Nation Military. “I know what you mean, about not knowing what to do.” He looked over at the crowd, because it was easier than watching Ming looking so sad. “When I woke up from the ice, everyone expected me to be the Avatar. To fight in this war, and defeat the Fire Lord. But I didn’t even know I was the Avatar for more than a few weeks before I got frozen.” He watched the crowd, and clutched his staff tighter. “But I had to accept who I was, and trust people who knew more than me about this time -- my friends, my mentors, even strangers.” He didn’t really know where he was going with this. He guessed he wanted Ming to know that she wasn’t alone in how she felt, even though this wasn’t about him. This was about her.

Aang knew he needed to talk to Zuko. He’d encouraged his friend to speak, but the crowd hadn’t completely broken up, even after what Zuko had said. He didn’t wanna just leave them, in case things turned ugly, so he hung around outside for a while, until he was sure things wouldn’t get even more heated. And Zuko’s meeting had to be finished by now, so he gave the protesters one last look, and headed in through the front doors of the Fire Nation Royal Palace. He had a pretty good idea where Zuko would be, and, sure enough, as he headed into the now empty council chamber, he saw his friend.