Light of the Soul

[vayleen]

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender, which belongs to Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko.

Light of the Soul



The air was cold, bitter. Katara watched the bow of the ship push gently through the ice drift as they got ever closer to the Water Tribe’s village. Dread filled her heart, radiated from it, making her stomach drop and her head swim.

She needed to do this.

When she saw the village, from the great fortress wall, to the large communal snow dome trademark to her father’s village, a pleasant feeling of homecoming temporarily truncated the anxiety. That is, until she saw the figure waving jubilantly on top of the wall.

“Katara!”

Katara was swept off her feet into the bear hug after taking only two steps from disembarking. She looked down at the rugged, handsome face of her older brother and his large grin. Selfishly, she wanted that grin to go on forever. She wanted to get right back on that ship and sail away. But that would be wrong.

“You only missed your messenger hawk by two days, you must have really booked it down here,” Sokka said, setting her on her feet.

Katara adjusted her coat, smiling at him. “I had to see you-” she started.

“Yes, tell me more about this mysterious visit in the middle of our winter and your summer. Why you’d come down here when it's so cold-”

“Sokka, we need a... place to talk,” Katara interrupted, suddenly anxious to get it over with. What if he went on, what if she had to talk to the whole village, put it off, forgot about it. Impossible, but...

Sokka studied her face, trying to read her expression. Did he notice her smile was off?

“We can talk in Dad’s tent. He’s inland at another village. They’re having problems with their fisheries... well, that’s not important to you. I’ve been using it to go over trading routes and supplies while he's gone,” He smiled again, warmly, and took her hand.

When they got to the tent, Sokka lit three candles on the center table and then tied the flaps shut to keep the heat in. “Sorry about the mess,” he muttered, shuffling papers around the large table to make room for the tea saucers over the candle flames.

Katara sat stiffly next to Sokka and studied his face. He already had a few laugh lines around his eyes. She hoped the evidence of past happiness would remain there forever.

“So, little sister,” Sokka said, handing her a saucer. “Tell me why you're here.”

Katara sipped the tea, glanced away from her brothers face into the golden, flickering flames.

“There was a raid ten days ago,” she said softly.

Sokka’s face grew grave. “Which village? How bad?” he asked seriously.

“It wasn’t a village this time. It was... it was the palace. I’m not sure how it could have happened. There were so many of them, they were so well-organized. They must of had someone on the inside-” Katara stopped, realizing she was talking too fast.

Sokka was trying to absorb what she said. “I was there just last spring. That’s not enough time to stage a raid like that, one of our people would have heard about it.”

“Our people were all dead or defected,” Katara said bitterly.

Sokka was processing this when panic overtook him. “Katara, why are you here? What happened? Is Hiko all right-”

“He’s fine. The family is fine. Except-” Katara’s voice broke, hitched on the word. She felt like she couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“Katara, what happened?”

She hated the panic in his voice, his eyes.

“Sokka... Azula-”

“No,” he whispered.

Tears ran down her face. “Sokka, Azula is dead.”

“Spare me!” Sokka shouted, marching down the shadowed, echoing hall, waving a hand behind him in the general direction of the raving woman he was trying to get away from.

“If it isn’t one thing with her, it’s another,” Sokka muttered darkly. He hated this place. Well, that wasn’t entirely true - he liked the Fire Nation well enough but the palace was depressing. It was the middle of the day and it was dark and dreary in there.

“Sokka!”

He was a brave and fierce warrior. Which sometimes meant knowing when to duck behind a heavy tapestry and hope the angry woman shouting his name didn’t see where he went.

He peeked behind the edge as he heard her footsteps walk past him. Azula stopped about five feet away, craning her neck towards the other end of the hall. His eyes drifted the the well defined lines of her back, revealed between her ridiculously puffed pants and the blouse that only came down to her ribs. She had a thin gold chain wrapped around her waist that moved as she walked.

Sokka smiled to himself as he thought about what it would feel like if he ran his fingers along that chain, and what the difference in texture would be like between the metal and her skin. Then he tried to shake the thought out of his head. He had to figure out a way to break himself of those daydreams.

Unfortunately, the commotion of his head hitting the tapestry rustled it enough for the fiery woman to notice.

Azula did an about face and stared right at him, gold eyes boring into the tapestry. Sokka wondered if it would catch fire.

He had a few options. He could run, but she was faster than him, so he’d have to find another place to hide, and it was a long hallway. He could step out of his discovered hiding place and hope he could do or say something that would stun her enough that he could get away again. Or he could commit suicide.

Reluctantly, Sokka folded his arms and stepped out from behind the tapestry and towards the fuming young woman.

“You left in the middle of our conversation,” Azula accused in a deceivingly calm voice.

“That was a conversation?!” Sokka asked, in a faux shocked voice. He tapped a finger on his chin, as though contemplating. “I suppose here, with the huge rooms where half the time you can’t see the ceiling... you’re right, ‘indoor voice’ takes on a whole new decibel in places like this-”

“I don’t appreciate being left mid-sentence in the middle of our discussion-”

“Okay, Azula? Let’s work on our communication by first agreeing on terminology. Because your definition of ‘conversation’ and ‘discussion’ is a bit different from mine-” Sokka said, smiling even though his temper was frayed. His hands had reached out of there own accord like they wanted to choke some sense into her. He clenched his fists and brought them back.

She almost had steam coming out of her ears. “Be serious Sokka! Not everything has to be turned into a stupid joke-”

“Maybe you need to laugh from time to time! You’re always completely serious! Laugh every once in awhile, it wouldn’t kill you,” Sokka said.

Azula sniffed. “I can't help it if my sense of humor is too sophisticated for you,” she said.

She’s such a snob! he thought. Why do I bother? Why am I even standing here? “I can’t even remember what we were talking about in the first place,” he said, more to himself than her, and feeling like he was giving up on something but not sure what.

From the look on her face, he surprised her. She couldn’t remember either.

“Later, Princess,” Sokka said, walking past her. He held a hand against his forehead as he walked away unhappily. He always felt drained after arguing with Azula. Never in his life did someone manage to take all the energy out of him by just arguing.

Sokka glanced back once. She was right where he left her, hugging herself, but instead of her usual perfect posture, her shoulders were slumped over.

Katara let him hold her as he shook. His face remained still and blank, but his body was shaking so much she had to keep her jaw clenched so her teeth wouldn’t rattle. After awhile, he pulled back from her and leaned forward, clutching his head. Katara ran her fingers through his hair, thinking. Knowing she should ask.

“You were having an affair with my sister-in-law, weren’t you?” she whispered.

Sokka suddenly sat up, shoving papers, saucers, ink and brushed off the table in one angry swoop. “How did it happen? How?! Why wasn’t I there?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Sokka, you couldn’t have known-” Katara started, reaching a hand towards his face.

“I should have been there!”

The shout was enraged, tortured. His face contorted with pain, his hands were clenched so tight his dark skin paled.

Katara reached forward again, touched his face, but it was like he couldn’t see her. “Sokka,” she whispered, “Oh, Sokka.”

“I need to know, Katara,” he said, eyes still not seeing.

It wasn’t a memory she liked to visit. She spent days on the ship lying awake, crying, wracking her memory for something she could have done different. If she had just gotten to that courtyard earlier, if she had grabbed a guard or two or four for help on the way, if only if only if only if only...

Katara was running through the palace, frantic, heartsick. She had just pulled the blood right out of the heart of the rebel that grabbed her ankle, pulling her to the ground. Never had she done something so brutal, but she was right at the foot of Death's door. She did what she had to do.

She had to find Hiko and Zuko. She strained for their voices, all her senses on alert to find her family.

Katara ran down the deserted hallway. No guards. How many rebels were there? They must have taken out, or paid off the guards beforehand. Was there one for each member of the royal family? No, there was another one after her but she froze him to the spot. He was probably still there.

She hoped he died a slow, pneumonic death before the guards found him.

The air took on a feel of electricity. Katara followed it, heart speeding, steps increasing.

She stumbled into the courtyard. The hair on her neck stood on end. There were three completely charred, unrecognizable human-shaped objects on the wall next to her.

There was a woman slumped in the grass, robes wet. She wasn’t moving.

“Azula!” Katara shouted, running towards her. She didn’t look at the figures. She pushed the fact that one of them was wearing a palace guard’s uniform away.

Katara tried to push the other woman onto her back, sick to see her robes were soaked with only blood, and was shocked to see how pale she was. Too much blood, Katara thought. Please, Spirits, please, my sister, my friends, please...

There was a shuriken wedged under Azula’s collarbone. Blood was welling up from the wound. Katara didn’t take it out, afraid the wound would gush. Water was in her hand and over the ripped skin. Katara’s breathing hitched. Too much blood, her mind told her. No! No no no no...

“Katara,” Azula whispered, her eyes searching, unseeing.

“Don’t talk, Azula-” Katara said.

“Katara, look at me. Please...”

Katara looked up from her work, tears blurring her vision as she felt Azula’s life draining away, her spirit already too weak. “Don’t give up, Azula. Please. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Azula looked like she was trying to smile but only managed a small grimace. Her eyes searched, finally able to focus. She looked at her, gold into blue. “You look the same,” she whispered. “Blue eyes.” The grimace widened, actually forming a small smile. “Tell him... I’m... sorry...” Her eyes lost their focus. Katara saw them fading, the glow of the water useless in her hands. All she could do was take the pain away.

He wasn’t sure how he got into this position. He had been minding his own business a moment ago.

Sokka was visiting again just to see his nephew. The gurgling, fat thing was probably the most delightful bundle he had ever seen. He was born with blue eyes, just like every baby, but Sokka wondered if they would stay blue or if they would turn amber or gold. And would the parents fight over what element he might bend? If at all? Not that they’d have a choice, but it was fun to think about.

The only one not impressed with the tiny baby was Azula. When she held him, she almost looked scared. Plus she held him with both hands at arms length, giving him the eye. It was ridiculous.

So he had been walking when he saw Azula reading on a bench. He squared his shoulders and made a show about walking past her.

She said something snide about Hiko taking after his family and how she felt sorry for him.

Sokka said something about wishing it were true so that, at least, he’d be good looking.

They went back and forth for a minute like that. It was one of their more petty and insulting arguments, meaning one, or both, of them was tired.

Somewhere she had gotten up. He loomed over her, shouting back at her word for word. He stepped out of line but he couldn’t remember what he said. But the look on her face was so shocked and hurt, he remembered regretting it. He couldn’t really remember much about the argument, because what came immediately afterwards stayed at the forefront of his mind, and remained sharp until the day he died.

She had tried to hit him. He caught her wrist. She tried using her other hand but he caught that too. Instead of letting her go, he untwisted their crossed arms, abruptly turning her back to his front. He felt the lines of her body form into his, and was so shocked by the contact that he immediately released her wrists.

Azula stumbled a step away from him. Both of them were breathing heavily from the argument, or at least he wished it was the argument that was making it hard for him to breathe. Azula spun around and took the step back towards him, making Sokka take a half step backwards. She fisted her hands in his blue robe around his chest so he couldn’t step back anymore.

The expression on her face was fierce with something that reminded him of hunger. Sokka’s mouth went dry. He stepped back towards her, grabbing her elbows, slowly moving his hands up to her shoulders.

“Azula...” he whispered. He tried to get a handle on how fast his thoughts were rushing around his head. Her skin was soft, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparked, she smelled fantastic... What in the name of Karma was going on?

Her face was suddenly so close. Did she lean up towards him or did he lean down towards her? He could feel the warmth of her breathe on his lips. They must have only been a hair’s breadth apart when everything came crashing down.

“I... I have to go,” she whispered. And then she was gone.

When did he close his eyes? All he knew was that a moment ago there was a warm, vibrant, alive, woman in his arms, and when he opened his eyes she was gone.

Sokka slumped onto the cobblestone path and sat there until his body stopped flushing hot and cold.

It was long past dark but neither of them felt like moving. Katara heard two meals go on in the communal snow dome while they sat there together, Sokka sprawled on the pelt of a mole-bear as he absorbed his grief and lost himself in his memories.

Katara didn’t stop running her fingers through his hair. She wasn’t finished with what she had come to say, but she wasn’t sure how to tell him. She wrestled with herself as she thought about it. He was already hurting so much. But she knew it was something Azula would want. And it was something he’d want to know, wouldn’t forgive her if she didn’t tell him.

“Sokka... there’s something else.”

He shifted a little, the only indication to Katara that he heard her.

Katara had felt when Azula’s heart stopped beating, not long after she expelled her last breath. She was still irrational about it, thinking she, a bloodbender, could make her heart beat, even when the fire princess’s broken body had lost the blood needed to pump the heart.

But then Katara felt the second heartbeat.

It fluttered like a tiny hummingfly’s wings. Katara traced the final path of flowing blood, with growing horror and sorrow, from Azula’s still heart to her still flat abdomen, when the humming sputtered and stopped.

She wasn’t sure when Zuko and the three dozen guards with him found her, slumped over Azula and crying. She must have been a little hysterical, though at one time she would have said nothing can push her past the breaking point.

She sent the messenger hawk the next morning with just a few words - I’m coming to see you. Then she dressed herself and her small son in white, and said goodbye to her sister. While she was gone, Ursa, Zuko, Hiko, they would be okay while she did this for her brother. And for Azula.

Sokka didn’t move again until she was finished. Katara wasn’t even sure he was breathing. Then he was up, looking straight ahead and away from her.

“I have to go,” he whispered, getting up.

“Sokka, it’s the middle of the night, you’ll freeze to death out there!” Katara said, horrified, as Sokka untied the straps holding the tent shut.

“I have to, Katara!” Sokka said, yanking the tent open.

Katara scrambled up and moved towards the tent opening. Sokka was running towards the back of the wall. He was up and over it in a matter of seconds. She closed the tent. She would give him an hour, maybe two. Then she was getting Pakku.

In her heart, she knew he’d be back before then. So she sat down before the golden candle flames on the table and started to meditate, thinking of her family. And her home.

The last time he saw her, he had asked her to go back to the South Pole with him. He wanted to marry her.

She didn’t say no, but she didn’t say yes.

“Why can’t we live here awhile?” Azula whispered in the dark, tracing patterns with her fingernails on his bare chest. “We could stay on Ember Island for a few weeks if you want.”

“I’m needed at home,” Sokka said, looking up at the ceiling, thinking about the trading agreements he had to work on, about the long winter months about to hit the tribe with long nights and cold.

“I could say the same thing, Sokka,” Azula countered. “The government is too unstable right now. I can’t leave Zuko and Mother when they need me.”

“I need you too,” Sokka whispered.

Azula looked up at him. Her gold eyes almost glowed, they were so bright. He turned his neck so that he could see her better, lifted the hand not attached to the arm around her waist to brush her cheekbone. She turned to kiss his fingers.

“I know you do,” she whispered. “We’ll find a way, you and I. But maybe now isn’t the time.”

“I’m tired of waiting,” Sokka said, voice passionate. He was tired of waiting, of visits once or twice a year. He wanted to wake up with her everyday and fall asleep next to her every night. She challenged him, brought his thoughts to focus. He did need her, more than anything in the world.

“Me too,” she admitted. “Let me think about it, Sokka, please? Then... we’ll have to tell the family.”

Sokka winced. It was the only part of the whole affair he’d sooner put off.

“Okay. But I’m coming back in four months,” he told her. “And then I want an answer.”

Azula pushed herself up, brought her face up close to his. “You’ll have one,” she whispered. “I promise.” They sealed it with a kiss.

He walked until he reached the hills. Sleepy penguins shifted and hobbled away as he climbed. He didn't notice.

When he reached the highest hill he could find, he sat down abruptly. He pulled his hood tighter over his ears and looked out at the sky. And waited.

The lights came slowly. There weren’t very many that night, just a small, drifting white river in the sky. Strangely, he thought of his mother.

His ancestors believed the spirits of the beloved dead traveled in those lights.

The river shifted, waving across the sky. Sokka watched the light until he was sure they wouldn’t come any closer.

“I’m sorry too,” he whispered. Tears finally welled up in his eyes. “I love you, Azula,” he said.

He watched the lights until only the stars were lighting the sky.

The End