Chapter Text
“Message for you.”
Aang startled awake from his nap as a heavy looking scroll bounced off of his head, clattering as it rolled across the cobblestone. He sat up from where he had been cuddling with Appa, rubbing the newly formed bruise to the left of his arrow. The bison grunted in irritation at the disturbance, before shifting slightly and returning to sleep. Sokka whistled as he walked away, juggling several scrolls carelessly.
The Avatar and his bison were parked just outside of the Southern Water Tribe’s newly built town hall. Inside, Katara and Hakoda, the newly elected Head Chieftain, were undoubtedly stuck in one meeting or another regarding the tribe’s reconstruction efforts.
The faint sounds of drills and hammers mingled gently with laughing and chattering villagers, creating a low background hum that had lulled Aang peacefully to sleep while he waited for Katara to finish this afternoon’s meetings. Momo chittered softly near him. It was a bright, sunny day; the scant cloud cover cast thin shadows across the village’s new buildings. The rise and fall of Appa’s snoring chest rippled a meditative pattern through the air.
He cherished these mundane moments of everyday life. Though he had enjoyed the constant excitement of the last year with his ragtag adventurers, Aang felt much more comfortable without the looming threat of Sozin’s Comet, imperial armies, or traumatized Fire Nation royalty on the hunt. Non-combative by nature, the Avatar was easing into his post-war role of diplomat very gracefully. His friends all took up their new posts with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Sokka and Toph both seemed to mourn the battles a little bit - the former stating his annoyance with world leaders constantly arguing the minutiae of blah blah blah, and the latter returning to her post as champion of the Earth Rumble. Katara was glad to be home, anxious to rebuild the legacy of the Southern Water Tribe. Zuko was trying his best not to crack under the pressure of the crown; in hindsight, winning the war was easier than fighting the battles that came after.
For his part, Aang loved not having to fight. Airbending came as naturally as breathing to him. He was careful not to neglect his training in the other elements, but he never unconsciously found himself manipulating water or earth the way he did the breeze. Every step he took, the wind was reaching up to meet him like an old friend - it felt like a betrayal whenever he fashioned it into a weapon.
There was something bittersweet about the ooh’s and ahh’s he received whenever he demonstrated his bending. Of course, he took great pride in being able to share his culture, but it ached to be reminded that he was the only Air Nomad the world had seen in a century. He couldn’t help but feel like he was a novelty to some people, like a museum piece come to life. In those moments, even surrounded by a delighted crowd and his ever supportive friends, he felt so incurably lonely.
Aang gracefully rose to his feet, gathered his mail, and lightly flopped back down to Appa’s side. The scroll itself was thick and tightly wound with withering, yellow parchment. A red ribbon with metal three pronged flame pendant kept it closed. A small envelope with an identical insignia was delicately tucked into the band, its blindingly white paper contrasting sharply with the aged scroll.
He reached for the envelope first, sliding it out of the ribbon and peeling the flap open. The letter inside was written in dark, imperial ink.
Avatar Aang, it read, I hope this letter finds you well. I discovered this scroll in the Royal Archive and thought it may be of interest to you. Though I wish I could have delivered this to you in person and accompanied you on your journey, I regret that I have been terribly busy as of late. Please be well and visit soon. Sincerely, Firelord Zuko.
Aang flipped the letter over, but there was nothing written on the back. How strange, he thought. It wasn’t like Zuko to be so formal in private correspondence. This time, he even forewent the little turtleduck doodles he typically drew on the back of his letters. Aang furrowed his brow sympathetically. The mantle of Firelord must be weighing on his friend quite heavily - Zuko looked more and more stressed every time they visited, despite his insistence that he was perfectly fine and definitely still able to work. Though Sokka and Toph were always the first to complain about how utterly boring the petty political squabbling could be, Zuko and Katara were the ones truly in the thick of it. Katara, at least, had the advantage of her father taking the helm. As Zuko’s father had been deposed - thank Tui, La, Yue and all the spirits for that - he alone bore the brunt of reforming a tyrannical militaristic society under the scrutinizing eyes of all the other nations.
A shadow cast over his letter and a voice interrupted his musings. “Whatcha got there?”
“Katara!” Aang cried excitedly, popping up to his feet to hug his girlfriend. “I missed you so much!”
The master waterbender laughed delightfully at his exuberance as he swung her around. The air beneath her feet was buoyant and supportive, giving her more hang time than would otherwise be possible. Her skirts swished and swirled around them in a tidepool-like arc. “Sweetie, it’s only been a couple of hours!”
Their eyes locked in a fond, mushy gaze that would have made Sokka gag. For a brief second, it seemed like they were the only ones in the world, the hustle and bustle of village life fading to a murmur around them.
“...So?” Katara prompted, ending the moment. “What is it?”
Aang set her down carefully on her feet, before picking up the scroll that he had accidentally flung in his excitement. “I don’t know. It’s from Zuko, but I haven’t had a chance to open it yet. It looks pretty old though, he said he found it in the Royal Archives.”
He pulled the ribbon binding off, unraveling the scroll as he began to read it.
Katara furrowed her brow. “Huh, that’s kind of strange, isn’t it? You’d think they’d want to keep old artifacts like this protected. Whatever it is, it must be important for Zuko to send it directly to you.”
“Yeah, he’s probably too busy Fire Lord-ing to come give it in person or something…” Aang’s voice trailed off.
His eyes were blown wide, his muscles tense as he started to read over the document. His hands had begun to shake.
“Aang? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer, too enraptured by the contents of the scroll. He read it through a second time, a third, turning it over to check the back before reading it through a fourth time.
“...Aang? Aang!”
His eyes snapped up. Katara huffed somewhat impatiently, but her wide eyes and knitted brow belied her concern. “I’ve been calling your name for a whole minute! What’s going on?”
Aang’s head swam with thoughts as Katara took the scroll to read it for herself. He watched as her jaw dropped slightly, sharp blue eyes darting back and forth across the crumbling, aged parchment. They both stood, stunned speechless at the scroll as the villagers continued strolling and chattering around them, oblivious to the Avatar’s aching and pounding heart.
After all this time, he thought. I might not be the last airbender after all.
--
“So, let me get this straight. Zuko mailed you a hundred year old classified Fire Nation military report saying that Air Nomad refugees may have escaped to some distant, uncharted territory, and now we’re going on a field trip to hunt them down?”
“Well, I don’t really like the phrase hunt them down, but basically, yeah.”
“...Well, alrighty then,” Sokka shrugged, as he tossed a couple of bags up into Appa’s saddle. He grunted as he pulled himself up the bison’s side before settling into a slouch, his eyes closed and hands folded behind his head. Hakoda followed after him. “I’m a little confused why Dad’s coming this time, but whatever. Wake me up when we get there or if you decide to stop at a shopping mall or something on the way.”
The atmosphere around Aang vibrated with thinly concealed excitement. He helped Katara up an invisible air-staircase, bowing dramatically in a caricature of Earth Kingdom nobility, before whooping and somersaulting into his usual position at Appa’s reins. Katara feigned a swoon. Hakoda grinned and internally rolled his eyes at the young couple’s antics as he settled into the air bison’s saddle just in time for take off.
In all honesty, he wasn’t entirely sure why he asked to tag along, leaving Bato in charge. It was an impulsive decision at the time, primarily driven by his reluctance to be parted with his children once again. Logically, he knew that Sokka and Katara could take care of themselves. They had proven that again and again, becoming war veterans and masters in their own right. In the three short years he had missed, the little kids he left behind grew to be stronger and wiser than he even considered himself. They even made friends in very high places - both figuratively and literally. Hakoda thought of a certain reformed seventeen year old sovereign while the Avatar’s flying bison rumbled underneath him.
Sokka was no longer a child playing soldier. He was a leader, a fully incorporated adult man of the tribe, a warrior. Hakoda had seen his little girl - who once struggled to so much as draw a bucketful of water from a well - freeze enemies in their tracks, wield droplets like daggers, and build whole cities from freshly fallen snow. Bato had joked once, just after the war ended, that the next time Hakoda blinked, he’d open his eyes to find both of his children being crowned royalty somewhere.
Hakoda would have found it funnier if he didn’t somewhat believe it to be true.
But for all that he was proud of his kids - and spirits above, he was so incredibly proud - he couldn’t help but think that they were both still so young. Sure, the war was still raging on when he was their age, but he at least had the chance to ease into adulthood and start a family before he went off to go fight.
His chest tightened to think of the opportunities they had almost lost while they were risking their necks on the front lines of a war he failed to protect them from. It seemed only a minute ago that they were little babies - and though he respected their independence and adult status in the tribe, they were still just teenagers at barely 15 and 16 years old.
Sokka snored, an abrupt sound that petered off into a soft sigh. He was turned onto his side, his face mashed into a duffel bag he co-opted into a makeshift pillow. Hakoda didn’t envy the scolding Katara would give him once she saw the puddle of drool forming on her stuff.
In his sleep, Sokka’s face was softened. Peaceful and innocent, his features were reminiscent of Kya in her youth. He’d inherited the strong arch of her brow, the pointed slant of her chin. Hakoda could hardly remember his wife ever looking that carefree - the war had been looming over their shoulders since the moment they were born, reports of new Fire Nation raids trickling in day by day as their neighboring villages were picked apart.
Kya might have worn a similarly easy expression as a teenager, back when she, Hakoda, and Bato joked around and went on silly adventures. They had fun the way kids who grew up in war-torn countries had fun - cherishing every moment, hyperaware that each day could be the last, stubbornly refusing to let invading forces ruin their time together.
When Katara first showed signs of being a waterbender, that look disappeared from her face forever. Instead, her brow was constantly pulled tight in worry over her precious baby girl, now a target of the Fire Nation.
Oh, if Kya could only see who that little girl has become! The sheer amount of power Katara held in her fingertips shook Hakoda to the core. He had been present throughout her early years, had watched her play at controlling little dewdrops, and struggle without any proper guidance. He had never seen true waterbending with his own eyes before - he never could have imagined how masterful Katara would become. While she once tried to force the water to conform to her will, it seemed the water now did so willingly, yielding to her every suggestion.
Sokka shivered slightly, still not waking from his slumber. This high up in the air, it must have been too chilly for him to stay comfortable in his sleeveless top. Momo settled around Sokka’s head, his tail wrapping around to form a faux moustache above his lip. The corner of Hakoda’s mouth twitched up. He slid off his furs and carefully draped them over his son, ignoring the goosebumps that threatened to break through his arms. Sokka exhaled, smiling as he shifted and sprawled out under his warm covers.
Hakoda stole a glance at his daughter. Katara sat facing towards Aang, idly bending the water from her gourd into shapes in the air. She seemed deep in thought, eyebrows pinched and mouth set into a thin line. She unconsciously flicked her fingers - the water rushed back into its flask at her command.
Hakoda closed his eyes and settled in for a nap. Yes, he thought, he was glad he asked to come along. He’ll be damned if he let another moment of their lives pass by without him noticing.
On the other side of Appa’s saddle, Katara shifted onto her knees, placing her elbows on the railing as she leaned over the edge towards Aang. She wore a grim and slightly tight expression, opening and closing her mouth hesitantly. Finally she sighed, setting her jaw and strengthening her resolve.
“Aang, sweetie, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Round, grey eyes flickered back. The airbender angled his shoulders towards her, leaning back as he took in her expression. He nodded immediately, before leaning down to ask Appa, “You know the way to Gaoling, right?”
Appa snorted in response.
Aang huffed, rolling his eyes and dropping the reins before making his way over to Katara. “Okay, okay, no need for the attitude.”
Large, earnest round eyes and a bright, sunny smile made Katara’s stomach drop as she shifted uncomfortably, pondering how exactly to give voice to her concerns. “I--”
“What is it?”
“It’s just…”
A warm and comforting hand dropped onto hers. “It’s okay, Katara. You can tell me anything.”
She closed her eyes, praying that her words wouldn’t upset him too much before forcing them out. “Look, I know you’re really excited about this and it’s obviously important to you, so I hate to rain on your parade. But honestly, I need you to know that I’m really, really worried that this isn’t going to turn out how you expect it to.”
“What do you mean?”
“We just don’t know what’s going to happen once we get there. The people that live there might be completely different from the people you knew...and that’s if anyone is there at all.”
“...you don’t think we’re going to find anyone there?”
Katara sighed, all energy leaving her in a huff. Her shoulders sagged, her mouth pulled into a grimace. “I don’t know. It’s just...I know how you felt when you found out about Monk Gyatso at the Southern Air Temple, how hurt and angry you were. You were in so much pain and I never want to see you that disappointed again.”
Aang gave her a gentle smile, but his eyes were cast downward solemnly. “Yeah. I know. A lot can change over a hundred years and I shouldn’t expect to find things to be the same.”
Katara’s heart seized at his expression. His normally bright and bubbly demeanor was subdued, hidden away behind the weight of deep and incurable grief. Spirits, this was why she didn’t want to say anything. Though they had won the war and put an end to the Fire Nation’s reign of terror, many things had been lost that simply could never be replaced. A hundred years of violence ripped irreparable scars into their world. Whole families were torn apart, villages burnt down, entire cultures and societies wiped away, leaving nothing behind but char and ash.
No corner of the earth was untouched. Even the walls of Ba Sing Se could not keep the war out. Though their visit to the Earth Kingdom city was brief, Katara vividly remembered how refugees poured into the city, desperate to create a new life, to leave their trauma and pain behind them.
Her little village also fell victim - they were a community of children and the elderly, living in constant fear of further invasion. All able-bodied adults were quickly whisked away to the war effort. Their numbers dwindled, their customs and traditions vanishing over time as their people were picked off, one by one.
She could empathize with Aang to a certain degree. After all, she was one of the last waterbenders from the Southern Tribe left in existence - though she shuddered to consider herself alike to Hama in any way. Katara feared her, loathed her, but most of all, pitied her. Despite her cruelty, Hama was one of the most tragic victims of the war. Since Katara was only ever able to officially study Northern-style bending from Pakku, Hama was the last true Southern-style waterbender. She was stripped of her friends, her family, her youth, and eventually, her humanity. What was it that corrupted her soul, caused her to finally break? Was it her desperation to survive, or her unconsolable loneliness?
In another life, could gentle, sweet-natured, forgiving Aang have turned out the same way?
But while Katara was one of the last Southern waterbenders, she still had her family, her village, and an entire sister-nation of Northern benders to rely on. Try as she might, she knew that she could never fully understand the depth of the pain Aang carried inside him. She had told him, once, that she and Sokka were his family now. And their little family grew and grew as they collected their ragtag gang of insurgents. They would always be there for each other, bonds forged in the heat of battle, but Katara knew there was no replacing what Aang had lost.
Though she knew it pained him to be reminded of the genocide and finding Monk Gyatso in the temple ruins, Katara could not allow him to walk into this new situation unawares. She tried to warn him the first time they visited the Southern Temple, too, but he had been blindly optimistic at the time and got his heart crushed because of it.
Aang tightened his grip on her hands with a gentle squeeze. His face was grim and serious, a far cry from the expression he’d worn the first time they had a conversation like this.
“Even if this whole trip turns out to be nothing, I owe it to my people to investigate...And even if we come across nothing but bones, it’s my responsibility to give them a proper burial.”
His words sat heavily between them, weighing the air down with solemn gravity. They sat in silence before simultaneously leaning over the saddle’s railing for a hug. The two stayed there for a moment, breathing in unison. Katara closed her eyes. She tried to communicate through her hug all the feelings that were hard to sum up in words, feelings of strength, empathy, and unwavering support.
Aang hooked his chin over Katara’s shoulder as she stroked his back soothingly. He squeezed her once and then pulled out of her warm embrace, softly smiling as a silent thank you for her concern. They settled back down to their respective usual positions, he at the helm and she situated safely in the saddle.
Appa rumbled as he flew up higher into the clouds.
--
Following a brief layover at Gaoling, where they picked up a certain loudmouthed Earthbender, Team Avatar was headed southeast past the remains of the Eastern Air Temple.
Well...almost Team Avatar, Toph thought wistfully, sprawled on her back with her earth-laden feet stacked on top of Sokka’s sleeping body. They were missing the entire Zuko faction, which included Suki at the moment. She and the other Kyoshi Warriors had been enlisted to serve as His Flaming Majesty’s Royal Fire-y Blazing Guards of Fire, or something like that.
On top of that, they were apparently taking Daddy Water Tribe with them. Not, of course, that Toph had any issue with Hakoda, but spending a couple months at home meant that she was more than ready to be rid of any parental guidance “helping” her out.
It had been wishful thinking on Toph’s part, to imagine that becoming a decorated war vet meant anything to her parents. She had been almost excited to come home, hoping that news of her many talents and successes would beat her to Gaoling. Perhaps...her parents would finally be able to know her as she truly was. A super badass, prodigy genius, tough, kick-ass-and-take-names Earthbending master, with an incredible sense of humor to boot.
Even if her wildest dreams wouldn’t come true, her family should at least be happy to have her home, right?
She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.
The moment she stepped foot in her childhood home, Toph instantly regretted it. Servants fretted to and fro, ignoring her protests as they quickly tried to make her look “presentable” before Lord and Lady Beifong caught sight of the little street urchin that dared track mud onto their expensive tile. The servants did their best to scrub her down and turn her into a porcelain doll again; a year ago, she might have obediently complied.
But now?
Hell. Nah. She was Toph freakin’ Beifong.
They wanted her rough edges sanded down until there was no part of her that she recognized. They wanted her to slip back into the mask she used to wear and cover up her ferocity with fine silks.
But now she knew what it was like to have friends and a chosen family that accepted her, that loved her for who she was, dirty feet and all. And now, she wasn’t going to accept anything less.
Okay, sure. Toph knew that her parents really did love her, and they were just really crap at showing it. They expressed their love in worry, which turned into control, which translated into “a bunch of old people bossing Toph around because they think they know what’s good for her”. And yeah, maybe her parents did know the ins-and-outs of survival in cutthroat high society, but who’s to say that she even wanted to be in that kind of society anyways? She’d much rather be somewhere cutthroat with, you know, actual throat cutting! (Metaphorically speaking, of course. Toph was more into “smashing” and “slamming” than “cutting”, but that was just personal preference.)
After a highly emotionally charged reunion, complete with shouting, crying, and many, many changes to their estate’s landscaping, the Beifongs eventually settled into something of a truce.
Toph would sit pretty through dinner thrice a week; Lao and Poppy would let her stay in her newly-erected mud hut and leave her alone. No complaining, no criticizing, and definitely no attempts at controlling.
Would she say her life now was perfect? Nah, not by a long shot. But it was fine, she was adjusting. Not everyone was like Aang or Zuko or Katara, with important predetermined post-war shoes to fill.
She was fine. Just...taking some time to figure stuff out. Find her place in life. Things like that.
Sokka yawned, jolting Toph’s feet off his body as he shook himself awake. Momo chittered angrily at having been startled.
“Hey! I was using that!” the earthbender protested.
He scoffed. “What, am I just a piece of furniture to you?”
“Maybe if you were a piece of furniture, I wouldn’t have to listen to you talk so much,” Toph shot back, automatically clinging to his arm as he scooted up next to her. She yelped slightly as Appa took a sudden dip.
“Yeah, yeah. You can pretend all you like, I know you love my dulcet tones.”
“Your dulcet tones make me wish I was deaf instead of blind!”
“Well, maybe if you were deaf instead of blind, you could see which finger I’m holding up right --”
“Sokka, Toph! Knock it off!” Katara scolded them exasperatedly. Toph could hear Hakoda chuckling from where he sat across from them, though he made no move to intervene. “Can’t you two sit quietly for five minutes without bickering with each other?”
“We were doing just fine before Snoozles here snored himself awake.”
“First of all, I did not snore myself awake! And secondly, you were the one who started it in the first place --”
Katara huffed in irritation. “You see what I have to deal with, Dad?”
Hakoda hmm’d goodhumoredy, making no comment.
“Aww, come on, Katara, we’re just joking around,” Sokka said in a pacifying tone.
“Yeah, we just gotta make up for lost time, that’s all. It’s been a while since I’ve seen his ugly mug!”
“Exactly!” Sokka agreed enthusiastically. “Hey, wait…”
Aang piped up from where he sat at Appa’s reigns. “Well, you guys are just going to have to make up that time later. It looks like we’re going to be arriving soon!”
The occupants of Appa’s saddle hooted and hollered in excitement as they started to get themselves ready to land. Katara and Sokka leaned over the side of the saddle, hoping to catch a glimpse of the uncharted territory beneath them. Toph stayed put, gripping onto Sokka’s bicep a little bit harder as Appa began his descent.
“Where exactly are we going?” Toph wondered aloud. “I didn’t think there was anything out further southeast than the Eastern Air Temple.”
She felt Sokka shrug his shoulders. “Ya know, I thought so too, but I figure there’s probably lots of places that exist that don’t get drawn on maps. Maybe this is one of those? If airbender refugees really did escape here, it makes sense that they wouldn’t want to be found.”
“I doubt the Fire Nation wanted to publicize that they let a bunch of Air Nomads escape,” Hakoda pointed out. “They probably would have tried to strike this place off of the map. Though, it is strange that the Fire Nation would know where they went and not try to finish them off.”
“Maybe they couldn’t?” Toph suggested. “Airbenders can be pretty slippery. The Fire Nation might not have been able to fight them without Sozin’s Comet.”
“I guess we’ll figure out soon! Aang, how long until touchdown?” Sokka asked excitedly. He started gathering up his things and shrugged his pack onto his shoulder.
“We started flying over land a couple hours ago. Right now I’m just looking for a safe place to land Appa. This forest is really dense though--”
“Sweetie, look!” Katara interrupted. “How about that clearing over there?”
“Great find, Katara!”
They must have been making goo-goo eyes at each other, since Sokka suddenly started making fake vomiting noises.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Toph shouted over the roaring wind as Appa descended faster and faster. “Less flirting, more landing. The sooner I get my feet on solid ground, the better!”
She braced herself for impact. Appa came to a sudden halt in midair, before softly settling on the ground with a grunt. Toph let out a loud whoop while she detached herself from Sokka, throwing herself bodily over the edge of Appa’s saddle, before landing in the gentle caress of dirt. The earthbender felt the vibrations of her friends touching down around her as they dismounted the bison. She took a moment to inhale, smelling the sweet musk of grass and acclimating her feet to the environment.
She paused, digging her toes into the dirt. The breeze tickled the grass, rippling through her seismic sense. Aang pranced his little dancer steps; bags bounced on the ground as Katara and Sokka unloaded cargo.
Sokka, Katara, Aang, Hakoda. Four. Momo and Appa. Eight. Toph. Nine.
Then why could she feel ten - no, wait, eleven...twelve...no, ten again - pairs of feet disturbing the earth?
“Hey, guys? How many people are we surrounded by?”