Blood Benders

Epilogue

Chapter 2,

Time After That

The amount of people here made her want to cry. They were all here to see her baby. Zuko seemed equally moved. The gifts were loaded onto wagon after wagon. Ursa, who knew none of these people nor cared that they were here. The little girl was crawling- much to the amusement of her cousins. Kaya and Yue- Katara realized they had no original names for any of their family's kids- were watching her roam about her royal play area as if there were no other joy in the world. This, too, made Katara want to cry.

"Sea prune?" A bag was placed in front of her face. She looked up and smiled at her brother. He had aged in the past year. He had stopped being the young man wishing for a few more moments with his loved one and become a stronger man who could handle not seeing his sister for so long. He was beginning to look like Hakoda, though infinitely more... using the word attractive for the purpose of describing your brother- in comparison to your father- was odd, but she could think of no better word. She contributed the good looks to their mother.

"You know, I think I might love you." She ate more than a few. It was not lady-like. No one was watching, she thought. And if they were, so be it. The Fire Lady ate food. Alert the public.

"Ah, good. I was beginning to feel used." He said, taking a few himself. Little Kaya chose now to attack her father for another hug. She stole prunes and squealed, but forgot all about them when she saw Ursa again.

"Boy this time?" Katara asked, looking at Suki. The signs were barely there, but the parents knew what was happening. And Katara wasn't an idiot.

"Hopefully." Sokka said smiling. Katara knew he was anxious to have a son. No matter that his daughters were the center of his world, a son would secure his family name. She wished she could help him in his plight, but it was not her place. She belonged to another family now. She had her own family now.

"Well, good luck. Sokka, you're all staying for the play, right?" Her voice was quiet.

The man nodded, "Yes, of course. A play about us? How could I pass it up?"

She laughed at him. Maybe he was still the little kid she used to know. Katara wondered, though, how their group would handle watching it. They were adults, and they had been so during their time of suffering. She knew that she would probably cry. As much as old wounds were healed, greatly replaced by joy, there was still a memory of pain.

She only hoped the Ember Island Players did their stories justice.

…

Zuko knew how serious the production company was about anything they did. He wasn't disappointed with their portrayal of his life. He went through each memory, and he was surprised at how closely the acting came to the actual events. He supposed he shouldn't have been astounded as he was. Katara had, after asking him, granted them permission to interview the royals and their friends. The information they gathered was serving them well.

Katara cried a few times, and she tried to hide it. But Zuko smiled, knowing how she felt. It was hard to watch everything they'd gone through once more. The pain was still there, if he looked. But watching someone else bear his pain- and it seemed so real- was easier. It was an odd thing, to be sure, but entertaining nonetheless. There was plenty of things he had missed the first time around.

After the play was over, the g'aang headed to the back room. They had been invited to meet their actor counterparts. That was strange, too.

The actors were all chatting and congratulating each other on another job well done. It was the actress who played Katara who spotted them first. The respective groups silenced themselves and stared into something of a mirror.

"It's them." The Sokka-actor said.

"They look just like us." The real Sokka said.

"Do they?" The real Toph asked, a laugh in her voice.

"Yes." Aang answered her.

A laughter erupted from everyone at once. They began mingling and conversing with each other, each person finding their actor and giving them praise and criticisms. When all was said and done, Zuko invited the entire group of actors back to the palace. It was too interesting not to have it painted, he said.

…

Katara looked up at the painting, in awe of how much she looked like the woman there. The stories were there, of course. She had heard all about her great-grandmother and how she and the Avatar saved the world. But this painting was living proof they were related. Katara hoped she would look as pretty when she was older.

"Nanna, was she brave?" the little girl asked.

Her grandmother replied, "The bravest."

"Was she strong?"

The older woman smiled, "The strongest."

"Nanna, did she know me?" The little girl kept watching the painting.

"For a few days. But my father- your great-grandfather- grew very sick, and died suddenly. She went with him the following day. They always belonged together."

"Did she love me?"

"Yes, little one. She loved you very much. She gave something to me when I was old enough, which I gave to your mother. One day, you will wear her grandmother's necklace."

The little girl's eyes filled with wonder, "It's an old necklace."

"Yes it is."

…

The history texts captured their victories, their losses. Their accomplishments. But not the romance of Katara and Zuko. Within a few generations, the story was lost. The group moved on, and it was the Avatar who remembered the longest. Aang was somewhere in the spirit realm, with the story. He was willing to share all he could with-well, with himself. When the time came for another war- lead this time by the legacy of Toph Bei Fong- Aang was surprised. Though he had allowed Toph to create the armies, he never expected it would lead to war.

Many of his former selves laughed, neither had they.

The Ursa Academy stood for hundreds of years, until it was destroyed by a great and terrible bending war, wiping the last remnants of Lord and Lady Zuko and Katara from the planet. Though time forgot them and all they stood for, there was a time after their deaths when all sung their praises.

To the people they saved and the world they created, there was no forgetting them. Any of those who lived during the Fire Nation 100 Years War knew who they owed their freedom to.

Written on the statues erected were words that the whole nation clung to.

The most beautiful sea:
hasn't been crossed yet.
The most beautiful child:
hasn't grown up yet.
Our most beautiful days:
we haven't seen yet.
And the most beautiful words I wanted to tell you
I haven't said yet..

A/N: The poem above is "September 24th 1945" by Nâzım Hikmet Ran. I didn't write that.

You guys, this is it. The end. We're done, you and I. But, I did promise something else. Another story. By the time you finish this, it'll be out.

I'll either see you there or I won't.

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. The love and support for this story was more than I could have ever dreamed. Thank you guys for sticking with me this long. I love you!

Also, check out DA for (I think thier name is) Scribbles. They drew a picture for me! For this story, and it's humbling that it is so. It's the first thing anyone's done for something I wrote.