#katara-centric

Aang-centric Fics

all i know is gone (but i am not alone) by @thinkingisadangerouspastime

14.7k words, oneshot, rated T

“I want you to make me a promise, Avatar Aang,” Katara whispered. This time, when she placed her hand on top of his, he didn’t pull away. “When this is all over, when the war is won… Promise me that you’ll grieve.” (alternatively: grieving is hard. aang’s friends work harder. a series of missing/expanded scenes from a:tla exploring aang’s grief through his friends’ eyes.)

the avatar's fear by @northerngoshawk

13.8k words, oneshot, rated G

"If you're not scared, you're not human." That, more than anything, should prove that the Avatar is human. After all, not even the Avatar is exempt from fear. Or: five fears that Aang has. Canon-compliant. Aang-centric.

i see them by @northerngoshawk

1.2k words, oneshot, rated G

I see them in everything. I see them in nothing. I see them in myself and everyone around me. I see them in the air I breathe, the water around me, the earth beneath me, the fire within me. And I won't let them go. Or: Aang's grief for the Air Nomads. Oneshot.

tell me (every moment was worth it to be alive) by @northerngoshawk

1.6k words, oneshot, rated G

When you have so many words to say, but no one to say them to, what do you do? You write a letter. - Aang writes a letter to Gyatso.

life is a burden (and the choice to bear it) by @northerngoshawk

1.3k words, oneshot, rated G

Life is broken. Life is beautiful. Life is cruel and unfair and takes and takes and takes, but it is also wondrous and joyful and gives and gives and gives, and it is a choice, a choice, a choice. Or: A hundred years of war has ended. Aang has time to think.

everything by @northerngoshawk

641 words, drabble, rated G

These broken pieces, to scatter alone, Those days we spent were not my own, And so we take our final breath, And look both ways to part in death. - Aang meditates on his people.

going back, moving forward by @northerngoshawk

2k words, oneshot, rated G

He smiles from across the table as he moves another piece on the board. Aang sits and looks down at the table, thinking over his piece placements, analyzing his strategies. And yet, at the same time, he can’t shake this nagging feeling in the back of his mind. This feels right… and so very, very wrong. - In which Aang has a near-death experience and finds himself speaking to Gyatso one more time.

dreamless dreams by @northerngoshawk

2k words, oneshot, rated G

Additional Note: also Zuko-centric

Every night, he dreams of death. Sometimes, he dreams of flames that tower high above him, like mountains made of fire, steadily closing in on him. He dreams of an angry demon with two embers for eyes, a large, heavy hand reaching out towards his face. He dreams of lightning that slithers around a silhouette staggering erratically towards him, two hands—no, claws—lifted up as her mouth twists in a sneer. Other times, he dreams of tornadoes of fire that turn the sky the color of blood, of fireballs raining down upon decrepit temples. He dreams of screaming children running away from soldiers with skulls for faces and elderly monks rushing towards them. He dreams of splattered red and dying whispers as the flames consume even the tiniest breezes. And then he wakes up. He always wakes up. - Zuko is plagued with nightmares about the war and the Air Nomad genocide. Aang helps him out.

these sleepless nights we spend (waiting to come home) by @northerngoshawk

3.2k words, oneshot, rated G

“If you don't mind me asking”—Aang’s voice shakes Hakoda from his reverie, and he turns to see Aang looking curiously at him—“why are you still awake?” (fire burning, burning, burning) (smoke wafting from a still body) (waking up to roaring silence) “Couldn’t sleep,” is all Hakoda can bring himself to say. He clears his throat and looks over at Aang. “And you?” Something flickers in Aang’s expression then, a flash of emotion that Hakoda notices only just in time. It disappears as quickly as it has come, but in that split second, Hakoda has seen it. Grief… and sorrow. - Hakoda and Aang have both lost too much in the war. Together, they learn what it means to live.

rain dance by MashpotatoeQueen5

6.8k words, oneshot, rated G

Five times Aang took a friend dancing in the rain. One time where they all took him.

for the living and alive by MashpotatoeQueen5

5k words, oneshot, rated G

Additional Note: also Suki-centric.

Bumi is one hundred and twelve years old and still around and kicking. Kyoshi grew up to be two hundred and thirty. It's perfectly reasonable to assume long life is a trait exhibited by more than just those who are good. Or: Aang meets one of the firebenders who took part in the original Air Nomad genocide, and Suki deals with the aftermath.

The Sound of Tears by MashpotatoeQueen5

2.1k words, oneshot, rated G

You don't get over the genocide of your entire people and culture in a day. You just don't. OR: Aang is grieving, Sokka is a good big brother, and he's not sure what he thinks of this crazy kid who's suddenly turned his life upside down, but he's gonna try and take care of him anyways.

Always by @adariasakura

13.2k words, oneshot, rated G

“You always do this,” Katara whispered. She hoped he could hear the hurt there, riding the waves of her voice. “I don’t have a choice.” Aang’s voice sounded bitter, a caustic edge she’d rarely heard from him surprising her as it cut into her heart. - Aang doesn’t come out of his fight with Ozai unscathed. He should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to hide it from Katara.

With You by @flameohotwife

2.5k words, oneshot, rated T

Aang is plagued by nightmares, and they get worse after Katara tells him she's pregnant. Then, meditation brings a shocking surprise.

Leaves in the Wind by @itsmoonpeaches

​4.1k words, oneshot, rated G

“Fire is life,” said Zuko. Aang blinked away Roku’s memory, eyes clear. “Fire leads the spirits home." - Or, after the war the Fire Nation offers reparations to the three nations. Aang remembers that there used to be a fourth one.

Mark of the Living by @itsmoonpeaches

5.7k words, oneshot, rated G

“Have you ever experienced something so horrible that you can never forget it?” Aang asked, glancing somewhere else other than him. It was said as if with trepidation, a whisper that Hakoda only caught because he was listening. Hakoda smiled ruefully at him. “I’ve lived my whole life in a war, Avatar. I know exactly what that’s like.” - Or, Hakoda and Aang form a bond through the years, and rites of passage are only a part of it.

Time Capsule by @itsmoonpeaches

3.7k words, oneshot, rated G

Once, Aang was a tall, rather broad-shouldered man hailing from the Northern Air Temple. He had a tangly beard that reached his midriff, billowing robes that he insisted he wore even though they were out of fashion, calloused hands that were skilled in woodworking, and an unrivaled passion for hot tea on a cool autumn day. The monks had called him Dorjee, a scepter, a representation of spiritual strength. He first wailed out his presence in the Eastern Air Temple, a newborn with a need to tell the world that he existed. He was told the midwives held him high above his birth mother so that he would touch the rays of sun that streaked through the open window, and that his eyes glowed for just a second into a brilliant blue. - Or, Aang remembers his people through the lives he's lived as other Air Nomads. He is the story of a lost culture.

Safe Return by @itsmoonpeaches

3.9k words, oneshot, rated G

“What are you doing here, Stinky?” Aang lifted his head, blinking at a rather tall aye-aye that stood on its hind legs, upright and bipedal. Like a human. Its gigantic yellow eyes were boring into him, observing him with outright judgement. It tapped one of its long, spindly fingers on its pointed chin. “These humans are making you work for it. You should be outside! Enjoying nature! You look like you need a bath too! Did you forget to wash again?” - Or, the winter solstice causes Aang to be all of his past lives. All at once.

What Was, What Is by @itsmoonpeaches​

3.8k words, oneshot, rated G

Additional Note: also Sokka-centric

She shook her head. The water splashed back into the bowl. “I’m afraid that everyone will forget about all the selfless things he’s done for us,” she remarked. “He’ll keep doing this for the rest of his life, Sokka. He already ended one-hundred years of war. Don’t you think Aang deserves something in return?” Sokka pulled his sister toward him until he clasped her in his arms. “You’re right,” he agreed. He let her go and gave her a grin. “I might have an idea." - Or, in the days leading up to Zuko's coronation, Sokka hatches a plan to thank Aang for all he had done for the world. It helps that everyone else is in on it too.

let no one mistake us for the fruit of violence by @calllaitas

3.6k words, oneshot, rated G

"We are infinite sources of love and healing, Aang. When you are hurting, when things get hard, you must not give into it, but instead let your energy flow down inside your body, and let yourself feel whole. Let yourself forgive. We know this to be true, the same way we know that the wind cannot be contained. The same way we know we are many currents, but we live in one sky. And it’s important to learn, don’t you think?" One hundred years go by in an iceberg. Aang wonders, sometimes, if Gyatso knows just how right he was.

Whisper to the Wind by @f0xfordcomma

1k words, multi-chapter (complete), rated G

The boy was scared. A month ago, he had been a child playing air ball in the courtyard. Laughing freely with his friends. Being bested at Pai Sho by his cherished mentor. He was a child—in his home, surrounded by his family. He was content, happy, carefree. Now, he was scared. He had his tattoos and he was the Avatar and he was scared… and they were going to send him away. Away from his home. His friends. His mentor. Away from everything he knew and everyone he loved! Away. ⇋ OR an exploration of Aang's thoughts, of Gyatso's reaction, and of how one hungry lemur changed the history of the world.

Drag You Down by @chocomd

133.9k words, multi-chapter (complete), rated T

Additional Note: Kataang, but with a focus on Aang as a character

After breaking up, Aang and Katara go their separate ways. But when unexpected events throw them back together, they have a hard time moving on—even if moving on is what’s best for themselves, and for each other. Kataang break up with eventual make up. No cheating or dating others. Post-ATLA. COMPLETE

Everlasting by @chocomd

4.2k words, oneshot, rated T

The war is over, and the Gaang gathers for one last time before going their separate ways. Aang struggles with the prospect of losing the only family he has left, but with some help from Iroh and accidental cactus juice shenanigans, he learns that friendships don’t have to end after saying goodbye. Rated T for accidental Tipsy!Kataang and Tipsy!Maiko. Written for Kataang Week 2022, Day 4: Drunk Kataang

Katara-centric Fics

broken pieces still belong by @thinkingisadangerouspastime

20.5k words, oneshot, rated T

"What if… What if I can't forgive him?" Forgiveness isn't easy. (And really, who ever said it was?) This fic follows Katara's emotional journey from the events of "The Western Air Temple" to those of "The Southern Raiders," as she experiences firsthand both the challenges and rewards of forgiving others (and perhaps even learns to forgive herself along the way).

children will listen series by @thinkingisadangerouspastime

5.7k words, series, rated T

Sometimes people leave you, halfway through the wood. / Do not let it grieve you. / No one leaves for good. / You are not alone. / No one is alone. / Hold her to the light now, / Let her see the glow. / Things will be alright now. / Tell her what you know. How are we hurt? How do we heal? Kanna-centric and Katara-centric companion pieces, exploring waterbending a language, the damage of war, and the process of healing.

i don't know who i am (but i won't stop trying) series by @northerngoshawk

4.1k words, series, rated G

It's hard when you can't remember who you were supposed to be. It's even harder when the world takes your identity away from you. But maybe those broken pieces can be found again, and even though it will never be what it once was, it's a start. We all have to start somewhere. - Katara, the Southern Water Tribe, colonialism, assimilation, appropriation, and learning how to find her cultural identity once more.

gods don't bleed (except you do) by @northerngoshawk

4k words, oneshot, rated G

If there was anything Katara learned from the legends and myths of her tribe, it was that the Avatar is a god. And gods aren't human. OR: Katara always thought that being the Avatar meant being a god. She learns from Aang that she is wrong. Oneshot.

Cloudberry Tarts by @vanillabutspicy

2.7k words, oneshot, rated G

Scarcity and war can birth traditions of resilience. After the war, Katara struggles to grasp at the deeper meaning of those traditions when she fears they might not have a place anymore.

blood on her hands by @thethiefandtheairbender

2.2k words, oneshot, rated T

Katara kills Yon Rha, and deals with the fallout.

The Waterbender's Heart by @chocomd

45k words, multi-chapter (complete), rated G

Katara is passionate about many things, but when it comes to Aang, even she doesn't know her own heart. Or, the story of how Aang and Katara got together after the DOBS kiss, told through missing scenes. Katara's POV.

Without Water by @chocomd

8.8k words, oneshot, rated T

Katara struggles to heal Aang after he is struck down by lightning. Five times she can never seem to do enough, and one time she discovers she is everything he needs. Or, the story of how the ordeal of healing Aang almost breaks Katara before she learns how to hope again. Written for Kataang Week 2022, Day 6: Quiet Moments/Healing Techniques

Lifeblood by @chocomd

Additional Note: Kataang, but with a focus on Katara

7.6k words, multi-chapter (complete), rated T

When a peaceful mission turns deadly, an injured Aang has to figure out how to reach Katara in order to survive.

The Cost of Winning by @chocomd

2.2k words, oneshot, rated G

Unlike everyone else, Katara isn’t afraid of Aang when he flies into the rage of the Avatar State. But she fears what losing Aang to the Avatar State might cost him.

monsters underneath by MashpotatoeQueen5

5.8k words, oneshot, rated G

“Life isn’t fair, Katara,” Sokka had told her once, eyes hard and knowing and caring and real, and she had tasted a challenge on her tongue and decided you couldn't know unless you tried. Life has never been fair but Katara will never stop trying to make it so. This is not soft or naive or an illusion of bravery, this is a strength, and it is hers, it is hers, it is hers. (Team Avatar gets captured, and they escape, and they live. This is how it happens.)

look into the sun as the new days rise by MashpotatoeQueen5

7.7k words, oneshot, rated T

It's one thing to say you're ready to forgive someone, and quite another to actually do it. Katara and Zuko become friends while dealing with the potential end of world. It involves a lot of hiking, shared trauma, and trying to reclaim their childhoods from the grasps of war. Oh, and the rest of the gaang is there too.

do whatever it takes just to stay alive by MashpotatoeQueen5

3.2k words, oneshot, rated G

They're on Ember Island, Sozin's Comet is coming, and Katara has a lot of thoughts about a lot of things. (Or: three times Katara feels the weight of war in her lungs, and one time she's able to let it go.)

The Soul-Farer by @itsmoonpeaches

11.5k, multichapter (completed), rated T

Hers was a culture of storytelling, of oral tradition that even the children found sacred to their people. It was the waters of their life, the legends and folktales that had to be told because there was no need to write them down when they had their songs and their words. From the great dancing Southern Lights where the spirits played in the festivals each year, to the Mother of the Ocean who complimented the moon. There were the tales of the folk of the highlands, those who had given themselves into nature and lived as shapeshifting beings that could change from animal to animal. Everything had a spirit, a soul. The weather, the mountainside, the iceberg that bobbed erratically upon the rough waters in the edges of a storm. - Or, Katara and Aang meet as children, and together they learn to live.

when can i say your name by @calllaitas

2.3k words, oneshot, rated G

Katara loves her mother with all she has, and that’s why, on the day when the snow falls down dark and ashy from the sky, the first thing she does is run back to the family igloo.

Ties That Bind by @flameohotwife

2.8k words, oneshot, rated G

“Moooooom! Bumi won’t stop poking meeeee!”

“She started it!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Enough!” Katara finally yelled, her every sense overwhelmed by the cacophony of noise created single-handedly by her three children over the last hour. Tenzin was off in the corner loudly attempting to play the new airbending flute Aang had made for him. Kya had been hanging streamers to celebrate the upcoming vernal equinox, animatedly telling Katara about her day at school as she traipsed all around the room, adding color wherever she could. And Bumi had been “helping” Kya, which mostly consisted of hanging the higher streamers and poking her when she was balanced on a chair, sometimes arguing with her interpretation of the day’s events.

Aang was gone. He’d been traveling on Avatar business for two weeks now and was set to return in a few days’ time. Katara was attempting to finish diagramming the next day’s waterbending lessons and look over a few medical questions the Republic City Hospital had sent over, trying not to lose her mind. Just then, Momo flew in, adding his own screeches to the mix.

She rubbed her fingers against her temples, seeking (and failing to find) a way to block out the sounds of screaming, fighting kids and squeaky notes. Inhaling a slow, deep breath, she forced her blood pressure back down on the exhale and prepared to face her children, setting aside her unfinished work for now.

((Written for Zutara Month 2021—Day 11: Lady of the Moon/ Day 21: Her Royal Majesty, Our Queen))

Long Live Her Serene Majesty, the Lady of the Moon, or: The Triple Goddess.

link link link

twas mighty cathartic (katartic??? cos it’s katara-centric lol bye) to write it, and i’m really proud of this one!! would absolutely love to hear your thoughts and opinions and whatnot if you read until the end (it’s rly rly long lol)

Rating: G

Word Count: 4k

Summary:

When Katara closed her eyes, she could see them: giants who walked across the earth, bringing peace and goodwill wherever they went. There was nothing they couldn’t do—no storm they couldn’t tame, no problem they couldn’t solve. The elders spoke of their deeds with reverent whispers and awed expressions. They aren’t merely men, they used to say. They are gods who walk among men. They are pure, untouched from the horrors of our world, with a terrible, terrible power and responsibility. Respect them with all you have, and fear them with everything you hold dear. If there was anything Katara learned from the legends and myths of her tribe, it was that the Avatar is a god. And gods aren’t human. - OR: Katara always thought that being the Avatar meant being a god. She learns from Aang that she is wrong.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary:

The ice crunches under her boots as she flees from the festival, ignoring her brother's calls amidst the indignant screeches of the dancers. Dancers. Katara furiously scrubs away at the burning tears that prick in her eyes. That wasn't a dance, what they were doing. Dancing is light, dancing is freedom, dancing is careless and joyous and fun. Dancing isn't mockery. It isn't supposed to be. - Or: Katara, cultural appropriation, and the struggle to remember who she is. Sequel to "teach me how to live my life (because I can't remember how)." Oneshot.

It's strange, the way life returns to normal so quickly after Aang's departure.

Well, it's not quite normal.

The distance between Katara and the rest of her tribe is different from before, no longer simply weary and distrustful as it has been since the men went off to fight and took the lurking threat of physical harm with them. No longer does she wish to be accepted by a people who would send a child out into the tundra alone, a people who would blame her for things that are not her fault and wish she had died on that fateful day, years ago. A people blind to kindness and forgiveness because of their fear. Now the distance between them is brittle and cold and sharp-edged, as if they are a pack of arctic wolves fighting off a lone polar bear-dog; worse, a polar bear-dog that they had taken in as a cub and then resented when it grew larger than they, with sharper claws and better skill alone than each of them could even pray for.

Katara finally understands now that she is the polar bear-dog in this situation.

And she has outgrown them, and their petty, frightened small mindedness.

Not that she can do anything about it, at the moment. She wasn't exactly sure whose idea it was, but Katara is tied up in the storehouse with half-empty clay pots and is thus unable to use her bending to free herself. I bet it was Sara, the bender thinks to herself. She never could look at me without glaring or flinching. And she was always watching me. Always. It was kind of creepy and definitely a warning, in hindsight. The last time she was tied up like this, it had been one of the warriors that had never seemed to be a threat. (Since then, Katara had thought she knew that the arctic wolves of the village were more dangerous than the ones outside. Perhaps she'll remember this time.)

(She does know the worst thing about growing up surrounded by wolves, though: they are many to her bear-dog's few, and have more eyes to watch with and sides to pounce from.)

She just wishes she hadn't been jumped from behind; Katara might have been able to bend herself out of the situation if she'd only seen them coming.

But no, she'd been watching Sokka “ready the defenses” and warn the children that warriors don't take “potty breaks.” (And she had always thought that was stupid of him; it wasn't like the Fire Nation was going to stop in the middle of a fight just because someone needed to go, so why shouldn't warriors go pee before a battle? La knows that Sokka took enough potty breaks when he went on “hunting trips.”) And then someone had hit her in the back of the head and she'd woken up in the storehouse.

Her wrists ache as she attempts to loosen her bonds, but she keeps tugging, tugging, tug- the ice beneath her begins to tremble and she topples over, as the pottery shatters and the hanging seal jerky and kelp drop to the ground. In an attempt to righten herself, Katara lands on a jagged piece of what was once a jar. She's bleeding now, but the ropes around her hands have slackened. She slips them off.

The ground continues to rumble and shake as she makes her way out of the hut and the scene before her nearly halts her: a looming monster of dark metal, black clouds billowing into the sky, icy ground giving way as the village wall begins to crumble, a fissure opening up to swallow-

She moves, suddenly, her pulse loud in her ears. Loud enough to drown out everything else.

A fissure is opening up to swallow Takerru. (Distantly, she thinks she must be right about his being a bender. With how unlucky that child is, there's really no other explanation.)

At the last second, she manages to haul him away from the spreading abyss. Her blood begins to stain his clothing, and he has gone limp from shock, but his heartbeat draws her mind back to the fore and she calms down enough to hide him in the tent farthest from the monster bearing down on the village.

Sokka, stubborn fool that he is, is standing upon what remains of the village wall.

She wants to leave him there. To run from the village and turn her back on this useless place. But she remembers, faintly, that he had been loved by her- by their Mother and- “Sokka, move!”

He doesn't listen. (But why would he listen to Katara of all people?) He doesn't move until the packed snow slides away from the monster and red-black, metal-skinned abominations come spewing from the monster's belly. Sokka charges at them.

Katara is truly frozen this time.

She does not register the rest of the village gathering around her, or the pitiful fight that Sokka engages in, or the way that blood has begun to pool under her still-dripping arm.

She is frozen: bones and blood made of ice, a sculpture joined to the ground beneath her. She's not breathing nor does she blink, though her eyes see nothing. (She can't even feel the heartbeats that had been so loud only seconds ago.)

Suddenly, one of the monsters is before her with its hand reaching out and its voice demanding something. Katara cringes away, unable to understand the words spewing from the creature. Katara's mind has conjured up dark eyes and black snow, the scent of burning flesh, and the sounds of malice.

It grabs Gran-Gran.

Katara does not come back into the present, but she reacts to this; her mind adds something new to the nightmare: burned bodies and foul smoke and silence as she bleeds out. No no no, please, Father, no! she, can just barely hear her own thoughts plead. The heartbeats are back, louder than she had ever heard them before, and it feels almost as though she could reach out a hand and touch them. Her whole body flinches.

It's like she wants to help, but- Part of her is just- She's almost-maybe-

(She's going insane.)

“He'd be about this old,” the creature continues, oblivious to her impending breakdown, “Master of all four elements?”

Katara stares blankly at it. (She's still not really there.)

This must frustrate the thing, because it throws Gran-Gran into her. The old woman flinches away from her though, and hides behind her just before the creature lets loose a blast of flame. The children scream.

Katara gasps and her hands jerk. But she still can't control herself and now she's starting to hyperventilate. Her hands are beginning to sting from the cold, especially the bleeding one.

“I know you're hiding him!”

Sokka charges with a roar, stopping the creature from firing at them again by drawing its attention. Within moments, he has lost his weapons, even that stupid boomerang of his, Arash is throwing him a spear and the other young boys are cheering him on. He gets his butt handed to him. And the creature advances threateningly.

This time Katara does manage to get her body to move- sort of. She looks down to see what's stopping her from rushing forward and scowls.

Turns out she has literally frozen her feet to the ground agai- She blanches, missing the way the boomerang has come back.

She's not bleeding anymore. And there is no longer a puddle beneath her hand.

Instead, her blood has frozen onto her fingers, all the way to the second joint of each digit, forming something like a bear-dog's claws. Her eyes widen. She squeaks, a sound covered up by the cheering of the children, and the frozen blood is immediately fluid again, falling into the snow with a quiet sprunch.

Oh no. She looks up again at the sudden silence. Why- Did they see-?

But no, it's only Aang, sliding to a stop on his penguin-sled.

She breathes again. She looks at her hand, surprised to see that it's bleeding again.

Wait. Aang?

Her head snaps up to face him. “Hey, Katara! Hey, Sokka!” And he smiles brightly.

Katara's incredulous, “What?” is drowned out by the sound of her brother's very unenthusiastic reply.

But then the metal-skinned creatures are attempting to attack Aang, and Katara misses her chance to ask again.

He blows several of them away, covers a few more in snow, and finally asks- sounding more serious than she's ever heard from him, “Looking for me?”

The first creature's voice is stunned when it (he?) asks, “You're the airbender? You're the Avatar?” A few of the tribe let out shocked exclamations. The creature (Katara's mind has cleared enough for her to recognize that it's actually a teenaged firebender, a boy with an ugly scar) ignores them, though, saying, “I've spent years preparing for this encounter. Training, meditating,” he sneers, “You're just a child!”

Aang, sweet, naive child that he is, is obviously confused by the statement, for he replies, “You're just a teenager.”

The creature blasts fire at him.

Aang dodges and deflects until some of the bending pushes the fire too close to the tribe. Reflexively, Katara's arm moves, but Gran-Gran grabs her and the children scream, but the fire dissipates on its own. The airbender plants himself between the villager and the firebender.

“If I go with you,” Aang asks, “will you promise to leave everyone alone?”

What?

A tense moment passes between the airbender and the firebenders while Katara struggles to get away from her grandmother, to peel the old woman's hand from her mouth, but the teenager nods (he's the one in charge?) and the other firebenders restrain Aang.

Gran-Gran sags in relief and Katara finally wrests herself free, shouting, “No, Aang, don't do this!” She takes all of three steps before the rest of the village grabs at her and pulls her back.

“Don't worry, Katara.” She can see the way that he has to force his smile not to drop. “I'll be fine.”

(Everyone misses the way that the teenagers glances at her, eyes lingering for a moment on her sluggishly bleeding hand.)

The group of foreigners marches back into the metal monstrosity that the Fire Nation calls a ship. The door closes with a hiss and it sails away.

For the first time in years, Katara can feel tears attempting to fall from her eyes. She doesn't let them. Instead, she closes her eyes and plans.

When the others finally release her, she opens them, praying, Father, please let this work.

Because it doesn't really matter if Aang is the Avatar. It doesn't really matter that he's been taken. He's the only person who had out faith in her for years, the only one who doesn't hate her for being born as a bender besides a woman long dead.

On top of that, she was the one who rescued Aang from the ice; she's responsible for him.

Katara's getting him back.

Father, she prays as she gets to her feet, have mercy on the fools who try to stand in my way.

Katara stands in the canoe, opposite of her brother, one gloveless hand being held above the water heedless of the chill. They are fishing right now, or trying to anyway; Sokka is scaring all the fish away.

“Mm, we're having fish tonight,” she hears Sokka say. The words echo in the quiet for a long moment, so she shoots him a glare. “I can already taste it.”

They say, 'don't count your fish before you catch them' for a reason, Sokka, she thinks. But she has long given up correcting her brother, having learned that the energy is better spent elsewhere. Like on the chores that she is neglecting to do so she can make sure that the tribe eats tonight. Right now, she could be tidying their living space, or laundering their clothes, or fixing the village wall... Or she could be fixing the tear in the village's one fishing net- the tear that made this trip necessary in the first place.

So she doesn't correct Sokka, even if she does think he needs to be checked. Instead, she bends the water around a fish that he has missed, carefully making the orb that she lifts from the sea smaller and smaller, and then dropping the fish and its barely-there swimming space into the boat. Katara has done this a few times now, so there are quite a few fish in the boat- and quite a bit of water.

Her brother notices the increasing wetness around his ankles. Which means I have to fix his shoes now. Joy, Katara thinks as Sokka mutters something about patching up the canoe- something about having her patch up the canoe.

Suddenly, all is still and Sokka is doing more talking and posing than fishing and Katara needs to get out of the boat before she pushes him in to the water and leaves him there until his lips turn blue. “Okay,” she says. Her voice is calm despite the anger rushing through her veins and she is proud of that. “That's enough for today. Let's head back. Now.”

“What?! But we haven't gotten any-” he turns around and sees the small school swimming in their boat- “...fish.” For a moment, Katara thinks that that will be the end of it, and she's so proud of her brother. She thinks he's finally growing up, finally going to help her and the village, not just build look out towers and pretend he's a warrior. Then he mutters, “Stupid magic water. Should've known when my feet got wet- this canoe doesn't even have holes.”

And she is so disappointed.

But he turns the canoe around and steers them towards home and she doesn't say anything.

That night, they have fish tea for dinner, with the promise of enough leftovers for breakfast. So Katara puts aside the iciness clinging to her heart and and instead fills the hollow of her stomach.

Tomorrow will be better, she tells herself. Just as she has for years.

They are out fishing again.

Yesterday, they had gotten enough that the village wouldn't starve, not just yet, but the stores of seaweed and blubber and seal jerky are too low to last the rest of the winter (and they haven't been able to find any seaprunes or seacucumbers this year, and Katara has no clue what they're going to do when the harsh summer months arrive and the sun disappears and the wolves are as hungry as the village is).

Yesterday, one of the children had fallen into the water. He is a strong swimmer- one with bright blue eyes and a love of playing in the snow that reminds Katara so much of herself when she was younger that she thinks he might grow up to be a bender too- so he didn't drown (La doesn't drown his favored sons and daughters, Katara knows, he only welcomes them home when they have already lived their lives and given up their spirits) and he has yet to fall ill.  But Takerru did fall into La's domain, and the commotion made it so that the women did not repair the net, and Katara was too tired yesterday to have done it after completing her chores and eating supper (and then helping with the children and doing some of Sokka’s chores).

So Katara is out fishing with her brother again.

She raises her hand, pulling up a fish- the first one that they've seen all day. “Sokka,” she says, the anger of yesterday washed away by the excitement she feels from seeing the size of this fish- it might be enough to feed everyone, all by itself! Katara just needs him to move closer to the edge of the canoe so she can fit it somewhere.

“Shh!” her brother whisper-shouts. He doesn't turn around, but even that doesn't phase her. Instead he raises his spear. “I think I see one. It's not getting away from me this time.”

“But, Sokka, I-”

“Not now, Katara.”

“If you could just-”

Somehow, the blunt end of his spear manages to jab her in the stomach. She looses both her balance    and the fish, and the canoe capsizes as she falls into the water. The two siblings flip the boat over and haul themselves out of the cold water, but the damage is done: the fish have been startled into hiding and Sokka has lost his spear, besides; and Katara can only bend out so much of the water clinging to their furs.

Sokka, starts to say something, but the boat is caught in a current and they're too busy trying to dodge ice floes to do much talking other than panicked shouting.

They end up stranded, their canoe smashed to pieces.

A wet, hungry and frustrated Sokka yells, “I knew I shouldn't have brought you along! Leave it you to mess everything up!”

Katara has had years to practice burying her temper.

But Katara is also hungry and soaked and frustrated and there's only so much a girl take. So she lets her anger out. “You are the most sexist, immature, nut-brained-! I'm embarrassed to be related to you!” She hears her bones crack from the force she swings her arms with.

Sokka cowers away from her, pointing nervously at something. “Uh, Katara-”

“No! I'm not finished! Every time we've gone out looking for food for the past year, all you ever do is pose and make funny faces at yourself whenever you see your reflection!”

“K-Katara!” The little patch of ice they're on rocks dangerously.

“And another thing- I do all the chores while you're running around the village playing warrior, including the laundry- have you ever smelled your dirty socks?”

Sokka's eyes go wide. “Katara, settle d-”

“Let me tell you: they. Are. Not. PLEASANT!”

“Katara!” Sokka lunges forward and grabs her as a huge wave rises out of the water and pushes their little patch of ice far, far away from where it was.

She sits up as soon as the bobbing slows and her bright blue eyes widen when she sees the cause. The entire ice shelf that had once formed a canyon around them is gone. “What...?”

“That's it!” Sokka spits out, pushing away from her. “You officially gone from weird to freakish, Katara!”

She freezes. “You mean I did that?”

He stares at her with hard eyes and Katara isn't sure she wants to hear what he has to say- she's seen that look on him, on the whole tribe, before. But she doesn't have to. Just as he opens his mouth again, a giant dome of glowing ice pushes its way through the water and through the glaring light, Katara can make out the form of a small person- a child- opening their eyes.

She remembers Takerru’s incident, the sight of small bodies sinking through the water- remembers once, when she had been outside the village, when she had stepped through ice and nearly drowned, alone.

“He's alive- we have to help him!” Katara grabs the whale-bone club that her brother carries strapped to his back and hops over to the glowing sphere. If several smaller floes move to make her path smoother, she does not notice. (Her brother does, but is more afraid of the being causing the light than his sister's subconscious use of her magic water; especially since the water isn't being destructive this time.)

She strikes the ice once, feels it rebuff the club.

“Katara, get back here!” her brother shouts. “We don't know what that thing is!” She ignores him.

Strikes twice, with more focus, and feels the ice begin to crack.

“Katara, no!” He reaches for her.

Thrice, and air billows out, pushing the siblings away from the sphere as it cracks and falls apart. A beam of bright light reaches for the heavens and a blinded Katara drops the club and mutters, “Father...”

(She misses the startled, squint-eyed look Sokka aims at her. He hasn’t realized that she’s not talking about Hakoda.)

A figure is cut against the light, standing atop what remains of the once-sphere. Then the light dies and Katara finds herself freed from Sokka’s arms, rushing forward to catch a small boy before his head hits the ice.

Sokka rushes forward, his club in hand, and makes to prod the child with it. Katara aims a look over her shoulder and he freezes, letting her gently lower the boy to the ice.

The child lets out a groan at this. Hazel-gray eyes open with a gasp and she frowns. Is he hurt?

“I...I need- need to ask… you...” she hears the boy whisper. He is thin and his colorful clothes thinner. The dullness of his eyes contrasts unfavorably against the brightness of his warrior’s tattoo, and Katara panics.

Hypothermia, she realizes. There’s no way she and Sokka can save him, not out here. He was in the ice too long. Her heart sinks. “Yes...?” she prompts. If she keeps him talking, will he live longer?

“Please, come closer.” She leans in, heart constricting. His face brightens suddenly and he pushes himself upright with too little force, “Will you go penguin-sledding with me?”

She blinks once, “Uh.” What? Penguin-sledding? Blinks again.

But the boy doesn't wait for an answer, raising to his feet and asking, “What's going on here?”

The question of the day.

That seems to kick-start Sokka though. He gets into what could be a warrior's stance as the boy rubs his head, brandishing his club. “You tell us! How'd you get in the ice- and why aren't you frozen?”

Katara frowns at this, wondering the same thing, but the boy just waves aside her brother's questions and looks around, still obviously befuddled. “I-”

A rumbling groan interrupts and Katara goes still. The strange child (because nothing about him seems to make sense), however, jumps into action, clambering over what remains of the icy dome and exclaiming, “Appa!”

What follows is an introduction to a fluffy monster, a sneeze, and a giant wad of smelly snot sticking to her brother. Katara watches all of this with a blank face and can only think, Koh's face, this day can't get any weirder.

Then, as Sokka attempts to rub the smelly green stuff off onto the ice, the boy says, “Don't worry, it'll wash out.”

And Katara scowls. Great. More smelly laundry.

The boy pets the fluffy monter. “So... You guys live around here?”

Sokka stops trying to clean himself off, reaching for his club again and spouting off paranoid theories about the boy being a spy. Personally, Katara thinks he's more likely to be a waterbender than some Fire Nation brat- especially with how innocent he seems- but she is worried that the Fire Navy is going to show up to investigate the light show, so she rushes through the rest of the introductions. Aang (turns out that that's his name, which seems to be neither Water Tribe nor Fire Nation in origin) sneezes, flying several feet upwards while doing so.

Katara was wrong. The day can get weirder. “You're an airbender.”

“Yep.”

“I must have midnight sun madness.” Sokka decides he's had enough for the day and insists on going home and leaving Aang behind. Then he remembers that the canoe is gone.

“Appa and I can give you guys a lift.”

Katara doesn't even blink. With how the day is turning out, she's half certain that the seaprunes in the soup last night were bad and she's going to wake up with a migraine and a bad stomachache. “We'd love a ride. Thank you.”

Sokka protests the whole time, even as Katara sees him climbing onto the bison.

“Hold on tight! Appa, yip-yip.” Of course, the bison can't really fly- which prompts Sokka's sarcasm, and the look that Aang gives her while she directs him to the village is creepy, even by full-stomach dream standards.

Katara wonders, still not quite sure if she's awake, if Aang knows the avatar, seeing as he's an airbender. But she hasn't been one to ask questions for quite some time, so she just lets the ride back happen in silence.

By the time they get back, nearly everyone is sleeping. The few who aren't glance at the boy from the corners of their eyes and disappear into their tents and igloos after frowning at Katara.

“Again?” those frowns seem to ask.

She forgets to remind herself that things will get better before she retires. She doesn't sleep well that night.