#and dante sassing his nephew

[jollibeaaa]

i,,,,,just,,,,,.,,,love,,,,;,,4dante,,,,so,,,,,much,,,,,

[rodeoxqueen]

AWAS

CHAPTER ONE: BE NOT AFRAID 

“Dante and Vergil return from Hell to tie up loose ends from their year-long absence. While they seek a sense of normalcy, the fates send them anything but.”

Contents: Violence, Blood and Gore, Brotherly Banter, Explicit Language, Slight Angst 

Rodeo’s Two Pieces: 

I'm very excited to show y'all what I have been working on since hell, November of 2020. Thank you kindly for sticking around.

Back to the present, where the world turned on its axis for months without the weight of the blood of Sparda upon itself, the tides had changed.

In the midnight, had the stars laid witness to the damn near impossible. A portal had opened from the underworld, and two brothers stumbled out. Clutching their swords, Dante and Vergil reunited with the human realm.

How long had it been? Of endless violence and humorous quips thrown at the other, as the years of the gnashing of teeth smoothened the rough patches of their disjointed childhoods?

“We’re back, Verg.” Dante chuckled, arm over his brother’s shoulder.

“We are.” Vergil echoed. The obnoxious weight fell off of him and landed on the ground with a thud.

Dante had got on his knees and kissed the earth that they now stood on.

“Don’t be a fool,” Vergil said, staring at the moon. After years of wanting to become one with Hell, he tilted the false king’s crown to admire the clear sky.

Dante rolled to the ground, sighing in relief.

“We’re back.” He repeated. His brother nudged him with the Yamato.

“Get up. We must find our way back.” Eyes closed and a grin across his face, Dante let the wind pass through his bloodied and matted hair.

“Now we sound like a real team.” Vergil scoffed.

After a few moments, Dante got back up. They had arrived back from Hell to a cliffside overlooking a city that was not Redgrave.

“I assume you have unfinished business in Redgrave.” Dante nodded.

“I sure do.”

The portal became a forgotten relic, the Sparda brothers nowhere to be seen, their demonic presence known to the world.

Dante was known for many things, but mainly for how much of a constant he had remained in everyone’s lives. Never changing, staying the same as he was, an unstoppable force of sarcastic expression.

And also a huge manchild.

Vergil rubbed his temples in frustration.

“Dante. When I referred to unfinished business, I was clearly referring to your shop.”

“Yeah? And I was referring to this.” Dante bit into another slice of pizza, practically moaning.

Vergil sat ramrod straight, sitting awkwardly in a pizzeria. The two were the elephants in the room, both slathered in demonic gore and toting swords. People either gawked or left the establishment.

“You are still an idiot after all this time.”

“Yeah, and I’m also still hungry.”

“Surely your business is more important than this.”

“Meh.”

The blue devil waited for him to finish an hour later, the long-held bill lengthening after months of his absence.

Of course, he had to have indulged a few pieces of his own. It was nothing like the gaminess of demon flesh he had forced himself to sustain upon. It was almost melting in his mouth, unlike the resistance of the shank of a demon. He was never one for vegetables as a child, Dante even more so. Yet the crunch of the toppings was well-received to Vergil, deprived of basic human sustenance for a few odd decades.

However, he found it unthinkable Dante would continue to indulge himself in this for as long as he did.

The door reopened and closed once more to reveal the broad daylight of the streets. Clean, pristine, the sounds of cars and people filled in the crisp air.

Vergil’s boots walked upon a paved road for the first time in ages, man-made and unassuming concrete with stubborn weeds growing from the crevices. No mouth-having crimson blooms that grew to a man’s height. Just simple creatures that fell softly to his weight on their fragile stems.

He had never been here before, where Dante claimed to be his home.

“What’s after this for you, Vergil?” Dante asked his brother, swiping a few demons out of his way.

Vergil, also in his triggered form, huffed a dismissive sigh.

“You know, you should stay with me. Devil May Cry’s always got a spare couch to crash on.”

“Why would I do that?” He slashed a horned devil in two, spewed in putrid green blood. Dante chuckled, knowing there was hesitance in his voice.

“Because I’m offering, big brother. When’s the last time you’ve had a place to call home?”

“I believe you know the answer to that question.” Vergil slid onto his knees under a crouching demon, disemboweling it from top-down. A final gunshot rang his ears, a noise he had to get used to with Dante’s reliance on firearms.

Dull thuds and a flash of red, Dante stood above his brother, offering a now-human hand.

The horde was cleared away like dust on a counter, gone with the wind. Vergil and Dante stood in silence, two children again.

The younger pulled his brother up, insistent stubbornness in his eyes.

“I didn’t hear a no to my offer, Vergil.” Vergil sighed, releasing his hold of his brother’s hand.

“You did not hear a yes either.” Dante chuckled, following his already-leaving brother.

From the past to the present, Vergil’s answer had been neither, never spoken of what he was to do after everything. Yet here he was, now the latter of the two when it came to guidance.

There were many ways the two could have made their entrance to Devil May Cry and have it be a smooth transition back from months of Hell. Dante kicking down the door with a loud “I’m back baby!” was simply not one of them.

Vergil saw that a familiar dark-haired woman was sitting on the desk, absent-mindedly waiting for Trish to return. A girl who once blamed him for her father’s corruption, now a woman with no heed to his presence.

Lady had dropped her nail file, eyes wide at the sight of the two brothers.

“Dante,” Lady whispered as if she was greeting a ghost.

“Yep, it’s me. In the flesh.”

“Dante…”

“Did you miss me? Love what you did to the place.” Dante commented at the cleaned-up shop.

Her face of still confusion warped into anger.

“Dante!”

“Oh boy.”

The next thing he knows, Vergil watches his brother get lectured like a dog. Standing up yet with the attitude of a man in a fetal position, Dante let himself become used to the sound of their tirades once more.

“You had the audacity to give the deed to Morrison. Crazy bitches?! Really!” Dante shrugged.

“I mean if I barked up your tree all day you’d be calling me a-”

“Hey, Lady.” Trish walked into the shop, icily glancing at the two brothers.

“Look at what the hellhound dragged in.” Lady pointed to Dante and Vergil.

“Oh please, I could smell them from a mile away.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Hell doesn’t have any spas. Shame we couldn’t freshen ourselves up before coming here.” Dante sassed. Trish gave a pointed look.

“As much as it was nice to do some hot girl things, we could put Dumb and Dumber to good work.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lady gave a toothy smile.

“How do you think we got this place managed? Money. Money that you now owe us.”

“Hey! I never said you had to do anything.”

“You’d be real upset if we didn’t do anything either, Dante.”

Finally, after sitting through an eternity of harsh words and steep bills, Dante had more than ever landed himself in shambles. Again. At least he was liberated to take a shower. After Vergil of course.

He was surprised to find that the water was still running, and even more elated that it was hot water. Man, maybe paying the bills was a good thing. It felt like ages of grime and gore had been swept off his skin, his hair finally a familiar stark white. In the steam of the bathroom, he breathed out relief.

When he stepped out, he was surprised to see Vergil laying on his bed completely asleep. Usually uptight and composed, Vergil curled in on himself wearing some of Dante’s clean sweatpants that caught dust from all the months they were gone.

With a smile on his face, Dante chose the couch for once and didn’t complain.

They all deserved rest, Dante taking his nap with a magazine on his face. Future Dante could deal with this.

He never expected there to be any neater ends than the frayed knots he left in his human affairs. Yet, he wasn’t alone this time. Neither of them was.

The next few days, Dante gave his nephew a call. Well, more like Nero called him and Dante finally picked up.

Vergil had gotten up after days of practical unconsciousness, foreign to the comfort of a bed, a place to stay, yet much obliged to remain where he laid.

He came down the stairs, rubbing his eyes still. Dante’s voice was muffled until he was in the same room, Dante speaking through the phone to his son.

“Hey, your old man’s here.” Vergil shook his head, having no interest to answer, yet Dante kept waving the phone in his face.

Taking the phone, Vergil heard his son take a breath.

“Hey, Vergil. Nice to see you back from Hell. Um, can’t imagine that was a fun time.” Nero said, unknowing of how to speak to his stranger of a father.

“Indeed.” Dante face-palmed, sitting with another one of his accursed magazines.

“Yeah, um. I have your book.”

“Hmm.” Nero sighed.

“Do you want it back? I’m coming over soon for business reasons.” A hint of desperation and embarrassment from Nero went over Vergil’s bedhead.

“That would suffice…”

“Alright-”

“Thank you, Nero.” Vergil blurted, seeing Dante mouth the words “say thank you.”

Nero stopped for a minute, a few moments of silence on Vergil’s side.

“No problem...Vergil. I got to go. Take care, alright?” Vergil hmmed as a response. The line went dead.

Dante’s grin immensely irritated Vergil, a man who was incapable of second-hand embarrassment.

“Stop that. Wipe that expression off your face. You wanted a conversation with me and Nero, there you have it.”

Dante propped his face up with his hand, a cat that ate the canary.

“Nah.”

Vergil growled in annoyance.

Unfortunately for Dante, and luckily for Vergil, bills had to be paid and jobs to be done. Morrison had arrived a few days later, pleased to see an old friend returned from the underworld. Walking in, he was barely surprised that the shop had returned to a pig-sty appearance.

“Morrison! Nice to see you again.” Dante welcomed, sitting at his desk. Vergil eyed the unfamiliar man, reading through a book.

“Got a new job for you boys. About time you got those girls off your backs about having your little vacation in Hell.” A familiar smell of cigar smoke traced the air, Dante leaning back on his chair, intrigued.

“So Morrison, what nasty demonic critters does this gig entail?” Dante asked, arms crossed.

“There’s a demon runnin’ around towns, causing a lot of trouble.” Morrison placed a photo down, blurred and poorly taken. Although, the grotesque purple skin and rippling eyes on its body didn’t leave much to admire.

“Huh,” Dante mumbled. Vergil examined the picture.

“I’ve never seen a demon like this before. Sure is ugly, though.” Dante noted, pointing at a flat and angular head, pallid yellow eyes that bulge out of its sockets on the sides, and needle-like teeth in multitudes.

“My sources say it’s been going North, the last town they passed was here. Just this morning. It’s making some distance, I’d get to it as soon as you can.” Morrison revealed a map, a red circle around a certain landmark.

“It’s scaring the shit out of people and causing some casualties to be contained.”

“Alright, we’ll take ‘em.” Dante stuck his hand out, expecting cash. Morrison tutted, patting Dante’s shoulder.

“You’ve been spoiled, Dante. Nah, you’re gonna bag this son of a bitch and then we can talk about payment.”

Dante groaned, taking the job. Morrison tipped his hat to Vergil. Vergil glared in return.

“It’s been nice catching up with you boys.” He called out, leaving the shop.

The door thudded as it shut, and the two were alone once more.

“Well, we just got our get-out-of-jail card. Come on, let’s get going.” Dante grunted.

“Must you complain about everything?” Vergil muttered.

Outside, it was late morning with a slight breeze. The familiar sounds of a motorcycle came to Vergil’s attention.

Dante had sat on Cavalier, expecting Vergil to get on.

“Must you rely on that garish thing?”

“It’s too bad you can’t fucking teleport somewhere you’ve never been. Get on the motorcycle.”

Dante patted the seat, Vergil obeying for once.

“Ready for your first job?”

“More than you are.”

They tore through the streets of Redgrave, going north.

The sun rose and started to fall, endless roads leading through towns and cities that paid them only a slight turn of their heads.

The map’s glaring red bullseye had become a dead-end of sorts, the two resorting to walking instead.

Redgrave had always felt muggy with the air of hell creatures around. Here, in this unmarked territory, it had felt clearer. But also more unsettling, the idea of a demon scuttling about more of an awful surprise.

They felt consumed by the empty streets, busted in windows, and vacated shops and residential places in their lonesome wandering.

Something before had wiped this location clean of humans, and now something else was lingering in its place.

“This area has been abandoned.” Vergil walked over giant cracks through the ground, leading to a deserted town.

“Not surprised,” Dante answered, thinking about a certain tree, “good thing we don’t have to deal with any more civilians.”

A buzz in his blood reminded Dante that something was certainly there. The alleys were a perfect spot for creatures to linger, waiting for prey.

As below, so above. A ringing through the air was quickly parried by steel. Dante’s sword stopped a shower of needles from stabbing him, a stray one cutting the side of his cheek. It jolted him as a creature bounded the rooftops of the buildings, a hulking mass of reptilian skin.

Vergil raced after the creature, having blocked all the assailant’s long-distance attacks. Claws dug through the tiles, running on all fours from rooftops to silently treading the paved roads.

It’s clearly after an objective.

Dante chased after the beast from the ground, firing shots at the agile demon. Vergil jumped buildings, gritting his teeth at the demon’s inherent ability to evade and attack back, dodging tail spikes.

The streets all lead to the town center, where a fountain long cleaved in two from giant roots, stood.

Dante and Vergil came across the demon, purple skin stretched over its pointed bones, facing a cloaked individual.

“Hey, pal-” Dante was shushed by Vergil, the two standing a distance away from the hunched-over beast, much taller than either of them when standing on its hind legs.

Neither of them had expected another person in this area, clearly an oddity in the shambles of civilization.

“Famulus. Servant of Raphael.” A rumbling growl echoed in the night in response.

“I’m obliged, filthy halfling.” It hissed, crouched over and leaning to leer to the monotonous voice.

“You will tell me where he is.”

“His brothers may have underestimated you, but my master has known of your presence. Sending his best, I, to exterminate you.”

The person said nothing, as all that was all that needed to be said.

“Looks like we found it’s been searching for,” Dante mentioned, alerting the attention of the formidable monster and unassuming humanoid.

Glazed-over eyes narrowed with bloodlust met the twins as they readied themselves for anything.

“I will bring Raphael the heads of Sparda, once I am done with you.”

The hooded stranger turned their head to the two. With their face void of any expression, the twins had no idea what to think of them.

A pulse went through the air, Dante and Vergil’s skin jolting at a sudden warm wave in the air. Milliseconds after, a rotating ring of golden energy rattled through the stones, passing through the spaces in the pavement that lead to Dante’s boots.

Vergil and Dante were thrown like ragdolls meters away by an unseen force, Dante hitting the ground twice and rolling to a stop as Vergil stuck a landing with the Yamato through the floor.

A golden sphere surrounded the bruise-colored demon and the humanoid, who cocked their head in a disinterested manner, glaring at the taller creature.

Dante touched the wall before them, warm and pulsing with life. Despite the magnitude, he noted how it didn’t seem to hurt him, only pushing back from his own applied pressure.

Vergil paid it no mind, conflict occurring right before their eyes.

Famulus lunged at the smaller person who dodged, hands grappling at a giant maw, throwing its body to the barrier.

Tail spikes unfurled and bristling, Famulus’ hackles rose.

On hind legs, the demon stood well-over the miscreant, who allowed the beast to come to them. No matter how fast Famulus struck, claws phased through the empty air where it expected pliant flesh. Even swipes of its giant tail between quick strikes and heavy blows had been easily dodged.

A rain shower of blade-like projectiles flew at them, their body dropping down to avoid several. Dozens stuck above where their head was, a near fatality.

A needle whistled as it was caught by a calloused hand, palm tightly wrapped around the quill aiming for their chest. Several had torn through their cloak, nearly pinning them to the ground. They let out a startled noise, moving themselves up.

Famulus ran at them, prepared to rip them apart while they were down. Surely a cowardly move than preferred, but a move nonetheless.

They whipped their head around, jaw gritted. The same clutched quill was thrown like a javelin straight into Famulus’ snout.

Pulsating pain and white-hot agony made the beast screech, purple flesh burnt and smoking.

They shook themselves free of any spikes, clad in ancient robes. Nothing a common human would wear now. Even a demon could tell something was off about this one creature in human skin.

This was no common miscreant come to place vengeance upon its master. Raphael had requested Famulus to obliterate this insect as if none of his lord’s underlings could defeat them.

You shall return them to their grave, Famulus. A low gravelly voice rang through the demon’s head, a present message. The snake-like eye in the middle of its forehead rolled back and returned when its master’s command became silent.

“Yes, I shall.”

The foe stiffened as if they had gotten the answer they had been looking for. Famulus knew that. And like the devil it was, it goaded their curiosity.

“You will never make it to my master’s domain. I will gnaw on your bones, putrid being.”

If only if Famulus knew that there was no goading a foe that was already plotting several paces ahead.

Lashing out, a meter-long arrow-like appendage was fired at them once more while the demon began to collect its true power from the air around it.

It missed the mark, sinking into the ground to have the intended target land upon the blunt end, balancing coyly. Several more jabbed at the barrier, sticking into the protective sphere as the cloaked being ducked and turned to avoid scythe-like claws and disemboweling long-distance attacks. Famulus struck a blow that surely meant death, supposedly cornering the prey, until they vanished in thin air. A hazy afterimage materialized and faded away, swiped into nothing.

Immediately, they appeared to the side of the demon, who just began to rear its head to perceive this teleportation.

Legs bent as they were parallel to the ground, they drop-kicked the reptilian brute, scaly skin rippling at the impact.

Famulus’s neck snapped the wrong way, letting out a moist creaking noise as the body stayed stubbornly rooted to the ground. Incapacitated, it could not stop the smaller fighter from leaping onto a begotten tail spike from the ceiling of the barrier, yanking it, and falling back down to its capitulum.

The hooked and jagged arrowhead bit through toughened flesh, securing them to the flat of its head, glowing hand pressing against the middle eye, the key to finding Raphael.

A once distinguished demon, Famulus lashed its head about like a common beast. The joints in its neck realigned, sickening crunches with each segment joined.

Pushing their energy into the convulsing eye, Famulus felt its connection to its lord become not of its own.

Paralyzed from the sensation of a pulling force, tugging away at flesh, and seeping their own life force into it, digging into its mind, Famulus’ muscles twitched and convulsed like an animal to be dissected.

Famulus snarled to itself.

The veins leading to the spike stuck in its head pulsed, conducting electricity straight to the open palm. A strained cry left their mouth as they relented their hold.

The final twist of its head thrashed them off to hit the ground.

Flashing images of a lair, of an iron throne, flashed through its mind.

Famulus had failed to hide his master’s location. And with that, its murderous intent grew.

Despite the finality of its fate, its tail swished with anger and boiling rage to either do the job or keel over in defeat.

The thief got up with little grace again.

Its many eyes had noticed the bloodstains within their cloaked form, old wounds from recent battles. There wasn’t much damage left for them to take.

No one could dodge the Mjölnir.

Dante felt the hairs on his arms stand at full attention. Brows crossed, the older Sparda swiped through bits of his hair that lilted up from their slicked-back position.

“Hey, do you feel that-”

A beam of dark lightning was emitted from Famulus’s tail, striking straight into the opponent’s chest, shards of pure energy slicing through the air with a symphony of cracks rattling the street. Several pebbles flitted off the earth, scorching hot.

The lightning was overpowering, the cries of the stricken muted, body curling to itself with arms stiffening at the chest.

Dante and Vergil both believed defeat was imminent, preparing to have to take out the demon themselves.

When the flashes of demonic power died down, Famulus had witnessed the impossible.

Even with the golden shroud having been faltered, the thunderstruck figure had not been smitten.

Famulus’s needle-tooth grin dropped at the turn of events, rearing back on all fours.

Black lightning danced off their skin, flickering yellow sparks onto the cobblestones.

“No one of that stature could be capable of such an atrocity, and still be human.” Vergil thought to himself.

Famulus was the strongest of the Pessulum litter, demons that nursed from the deadliest of storms to emerge the top of their species. The demon had killed bigger and stronger with less than it had exhibited today.

And now, this runt of a creature had stood against it with no fear, not even close to death? Taking its strongest attack with no problem?

A rush of fear chilled its electrified veins. Stories of the being, whispers amongst Raphael’s underlings, its master’s own grinding teeth at the news of his brothers and their sudden falling, proven true by the might of this mysterious being.

Famulus would live with no merit to his name, scorned by Raphael, seen as less by its inferiors.

“If that does not kill you then I will!” Famulus jumped, claws extended like scythes to slice flesh to ribbons.

Clumsily taking one step forward, tense arms fought back to form one hand pointing to the snout of the devil, the other to the skies.

The thunder was released from its subjugation, deafening annihilation.

A blinding beam of sheer gilden lightning shot right into the demon, many opaque eyes centering at the color of death. Through the other hand, thunderbolts went off like firecrackers into the atmosphere, exploding rapidly and chaotically.

“Holy shit,” Dante exclaimed, sparks dancing off the paved path and flittering in the air.

Vergil ground his heels to the ground, the frontward force of the explosion pushing against him.

The blow sank into purpled flesh, veins and nerves turned from putrid black to nearly white, keeping the demon trapped in the air, still positioned to pounce and disembowel. Famulus didn’t even make any noise, the renowned servant burned alive.

Seethingly hot, with the very air molecules shaking at the display, the twins watched skin and bone become ash and dust. Killed by one’s trump card.

Not even a fallen tail spike was left, the aftershocks settling the twice-over-cremated remains scattering to the wind.

The redirection of the lightning strike had taken a toll on the hooded figure, who straightened up shakily, face revealed for all to see.

A pair of eyes were two suns in the dead of night, a contrast to the light blue ones that perceived them.

Standing alone, centered by destroyed store windows and melted streetlights, they seemed impassive to their might. It was as if they weren’t just blasted with lightning, where their fabric was scorched the only evidence of the offense.

Dante and Vergil didn’t know what to do, not knowing if this person would attack them as well.

They stayed where they were, the moon right above their head, shining around their crown of messy hair.

“Be not afraid.”

Voice hoarse, their mouth moved differently than to the words they just called out.

Before the twins could think of anything to say, the figure beyond them collapsed.

Vergil was silent, still processing all of this. Who was this person? What were they looking for? Who was Raphael?

Dante rushed forward, heavy footsteps raising ashes from their resting place.

Vergil followed, the Yamato ready to be unleashed at any hesitation.

Dante turned them over, noting the strange force surrounding them had remained. As if someone larger was there.

A human face from under the worn, textile cloak greeted them, exhausted and at peace with unconsciousness.

Two lines dripped down their face from their nose. Bleeding crimson, a human above all. In-and-out, slow breaths moved their chest just enough to know they were alive.

“A half-demon?” Vergil questioned himself.

“If they killed the demon, do we have to split the cash with them?” Dante blurted. Vergil raised an eyebrow at the inquiry.

Before he could retort, Dante had lifted them, their stature dwarfed in strong arms.

“Let’s ask them when they wake up.”

“Dante, you are not bringing that thing back.”

“You’re right. I’m not. You are. Open a portal.” He said with a shit-eating grin.

Vergil reluctantly did so, the Yamato ripping open the fabric of space. He would regret this, he was sure of it.

[jaxsteamblog]

Who dies first?

For weeks, Katara had felt the weakening of his heart. They didn’t discuss it, since Zuko knew the lines of her face so well and had known before even she had realized it. They were both so old, they had even begun to recognize the age of their children. This reality was, of course, inevitable.

Izumi was no longer Fire Lord. Iroh II had ascended the throne years ago and Takara was the Crown Prince, going on adventures with his cousin Yi. 

And so many had already died.

While Zuko went to rest one afternoon, Katara sat in the sitting room of the palace. Azula’s son Dante - Katara’s great-grandson - served her coffee in small, delicate cups. She tried to remember how things were before, when her own children brought her tea. They did not have electric lights back then, or air conditioning or television sets. The electric cars didn’t run so fast and not everything had come with a screen. Katara could go in the kitchen now, where very few servants - no, employees - worked, and she could press a hand to a cool screen. It would read her hand print and serve her favorite dessert without any words spoken. 

It was convenient, sure, but she missed talking to people. 

“Mother.” Katara roused, noting that she had drifted in her thoughts.

“Kya.” Katara said with a desperate warmth. She loved her children so much, and she panicked at seeing their age. Izumi bent down and kissed Katara’s cheek.

“Hello grandmother.” Dante said and lightly hugged Izumi’s thin frame.

“Go and check on the dragons boy. I’ve been waiting for Kyrek to hatch for days now.” Izumi said brusquely and waved Dante away. Dante, ever the long suffering teen, rolled his eyes but darted away. Izumi huffed and sat down, still holding onto the head of her cane.

“He looks so much like his father.” Katara remarked and Izumi made a noise.

“Unfortunate really. But at least Azula settled on the Firebender in the end.” She said.

“There’s nothing wrong with other Benders Kya.” Katara said.

“Other Benders are not the descendants of Avatar Roku and heirs to the Fire Nation throne.” Izumi quipped. Katara laughed but shook her head, drinking some of her coffee. 

They settled into a silence that was only achieved in age. They were both just breathing in the same moment and that was enough.

“Will father wake up today?” Izumi asked suddenly and Katara sighed as she set down her cup.

“I think so. But I don’t know when he won’t.” She said. Izumi, ever stoic, nodded.

“You can go, you know. We’ll all be fine.” She said and Katara patted her daughter’s lap. 

“I know. But your father and I.” Katara stopped and looked around the room. She didn’t even recognize the palace anymore. 

“You’re named after my mother.” Katara said.

“I know.”

“But you’re nothing like her.” Katara added and Izumi laughed.

“I know mother.” She replied. “And Azula is nothing like her namesake, nor Iroh his.”

“So what if we don’t come back?” Katara posited. 

“What do you mean?” Izumi asked.

“I always thought that one day I would come back, and your father and I would have more time. But perhaps only the Avatar comes back, and the rest of us simply fade away.” Katara said. “We love you children, but your father and I just want another day together.”

Izumi was stunned into silence and Katara picked up her coffee again.

“Grandfather is in the spirit world.” Izumi said.

“Zuko has never been able to do that. I could go there, I think, but not your father.” Katara said. “And I won’t go there without him.”

“Mother, I.” Izumi cut herself off and sighed. “I know I am not a warm person.” Katara didn’t respond, but busied herself with her coffee.

“Kya made so many decisions over her short life that were hard. But she met every difficulty with a spine of steel. You’ve been pushed over out of a desire to make people happy, but Kya made every choice that made life better for herself and her family. I think I am more like her than anyone wants to admit.” Izumi finished.

“Well-” Katara started, sounding affronted.

“If either you or father had any ounce of devious ambition, you would have married much earlier than you did.” Izumi interjected and Katara grunted her acceptance. 

“Azula is vainglorious and insecure, and Iroh is about fame and family. By the time we get to the next Zuko, he’ll probably be moody and overly righteous. You’re not even dead yet and Takara is full of confidence and sass.” Izumi continued.

“So you think we come back?” Katara asked.

“Don’t be absurd. This just proves that personality is inherited and neither of you will ever really be gone in the first place.” Izumi retorted and Katara chuckled. 

“But it will never be Zuko and me again.” She said wistfully. Izumi turned a little in her seat and the two women actually looked at each other. 

“Mama, if I know anything, it’s that you and Papa will be together forever.” She said and Katara’s eyes started to water. 

“I love you Kya.” Katara murmured.

“I love you mama.” Izumi said.

Over the past week, they had seen everyone. Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nieces and nephews, even Korra had stopped by. Perhaps the universe was telling them it was time, and they had all had a sweet farewell with promises to see each other again. So as Katara left the sitting room, she kissed her daughter and told her she would be down later for dinner.

Katara walked down the hall and nodded to the strangers she passed. The government was being handled more and more by the congress and so there were never any ministers hanging around the palace. Servants were long gone and the palace staff changed almost every season. Everyone carried passes with embedded chips, verifying identities and allowing privileged access. People talking to earpieces had to halt suddenly, bowing in respect as they finally caught sight of the old Fire Lady. The respect she garnered was less about her power - which was nonexistent - and more about her status as a relic. 

She missed Iroh; she missed Rin, and Sokka. 

Katara staggered in the hall and braced herself against the wall. A guard stepped out of the shadows, speaking urgently into an earpiece while coming to her.

“Are you alright ma’am?” They asked, gently holding her elbow. Katara looked at them and was almost shocked to see a bare face and not an iron mask. She felt their spirit, and was more shocked to know that they were an Airbender. 

How had things changed so much?

“I’m fine. But would you escort me to my room?” She asked. The guard smiled and nodded.

“Code Blue resolved. Escorting Painted Lady to her room.” They said into their earpiece and then offered their arm. When the guards started to integrate technology into their protocol, Lu Ten had suggested the code name and Katara had found it amusing. Now it seemed like a sad satire, as she tried to imagine herself back in the paint and dress. 

Katara made it to her room without another incident and she closed the door firmly behind her. Zuko was still asleep on their bed and she slowly moved toward it. Their bed had been lowered years ago and Katara easily slid herself up and onto the mattress. As she did, Zuko shifted and rolled over, opening his eyes.

“Hello my love.” He whispered as Katara laid down facing him.

“Did I wake you?” She asked.

“Yes, but you’re always worth the waking.” He said. Katara smiled and leaned in to kiss him. 

“Izumi says we can go now.” She said when they parted and Zuko put a hand to her cheek.

“Well, now that we have her permission...” He quipped and Katara laughed. 

“I think we’ll be okay Zuko.” She said. “I think everything will be okay.”

“I know we will.” He replied and they kissed again. “As long as we’re together.”

“Mmm. You’re warm.”

“All the better for napping.”

“A nap does sound good.”

“Come here.”

“I love you Zuko.”

“I love you Katara.”

The siblings had not been in the same place at the same time in a very, very long time. Izumi had gotten into a fight with the Fire Sages when they attempted to cremate both bodies and Iroh had only managed to pull her off after she had hit the head sage with her cane a good number of times. 

Then Lu Ten and Izumi had fought over what to actually do. The Water Tribes - all four of them - buried their dead, either at sea or under cairns. As the former Fire Lady however, Katara was given the right to be cremated. Lu Ten wanted to take her to the South Pole, while Izumi demanded that their parents be cremated together. 

Kozin and Riza stood back, watching as their older siblings started throwing things at each other.

“Mom can’t come back unless she goes to Sedna!” Lu Ten shouted. 

“Their bodies have to stay together!” Izumi shouted back. “I can’t split them up!” Izumi collapsed, sobbing, and Lu Ten rushed to her, cradling her as she wept. 

“Mama and Papa have to stay together!” Izumi cried. Everyone was quiet, awkwardly trying not to look at each other while Izumi’s wails filled the room. Finally Undine, Riza’s daughter, stood from her seat and cleared her throat.

“Okay so, I have kind of a gross idea.” She said.

Izumi looked hollow as they all sat on the jet flying to the South Pole. The box in her lap could have been filled with helium for how tightly she was holding onto it. 

The funeral at the Fire Nation had been massive. Kiyi’s descendants had shown up and stood with the family during the cremation. Korra, Lu Ten, Kozin, Iroh, and Azula did the actual ceremony, keeping the Fire Sages confined to the dais for the rest of the rite. 

The nation entered a month of mourning and the flags in Republic City were lowered to half mast. Black drapes were put over the windows of the Fire Nation and Water Tribe embassies and the South Pole museum was open to the public with free admission for the month. Hira’a set a large bonfire and fireworks went screaming into the night sky almost every day.

Before all of that, however, the family had another rite to attend. Undine had flown back to the South Pole immediately after the cremation and started prepping. When the rest of the family landed in Haida, it was packed with people. 

All of the high ranking people from the Swamp Tribe and the Island Tribe had made it, and the Chief of the North had brought a long a dozen other families. It was a tense political time, since Undine’s daughter was a Firebender and ineligible for the chiefdom, and the North Pole had been suffering a low birth rate for decades. Power had been shifting to the Swamp Tribe since the fracturing of the Earth Kingdom and no one had ever wanted to say anything publicly. 

Now, with the Matriarch of the United Tribes dead, all of the leaders recognized it was the time to address things. 

Izumi didn’t care about any of it. She had rejected this part of her life a long time ago. But the Water Tribe would never let go of her.

Lu Ten held onto her as they stepped down out of the jet and the gathered crowd started to cheer. The prodigal daughter had returned, and she had come to honor the Great Mother herself. 

It was ambiguous if they meant Sedna or Katara in that moment.

The large family of Zuko and Katara were given a clear path to the sleighs. The electric motors were silent and Izumi wondered when they had stopped using polar bear dogs to pull them. She was getting far too old for all of these improvements. 

It took five sleighs to seat all of the family. They were massive vehicles but they slid over the ice and snow with ease. The blades hovered under the sleighs themselves, using magnets to disperse the weight so there was no fear of cracking even the summer ice. Still, Izumi clutched the box like it was liable to fly away. 

It took two hours for everyone to situate themselves at the coast. Korra, Izumi, Riza, and Undine took over for this portion. Korra, Riza, and Undine brought up a pillar of freezing ocean water. The water shifted as they pulled it up and a dragon formed. The crowd gasped in awe, but as Izumi saw the shocked faces of the Benders, she knew this had not been planned. Izumi’s eyes narrowed as she eyed the dragon.

She remembered all too well the last time they had met. 

“Aivilayoq.” Izumi muttered darkly, but the water dragon didn’t respond. Without another word, Izumi walked forward and held out the box in her hands. The dragon lowered its jaw and Izumi placed the box inside the swirling maw. 

“This is for Sedna.” Izumi said loudly. “My parents are being returned to her.” 

The water dragon snapped its jaws shut and swirled over itself, diving back into the ocean. 

It had been a gross idea, and Izumi didn’t want it discussed. While her parents’ hearts had been burned together, their bladders had been surgically removed beforehand and dried. The Polar Tribes believed the bladders held the spirit and that they must be returned to Sedna in order for the spirit to return. 

Now, as was the macabre custom, there was a large festival. Everyone got stinking drunk at the feast and stories were told about the great heroes, including their children. 

As Izumi looked around the room, she was startled to see how right she had been when she had spoken to her mother. Sokka’s face was reflected in fragments among various people. Toph’s laugh was heard from the throat of an over eager Metalbender. Iroh had Zuko’s angular features while Undine had Katara’s round face. Seven people in the hall were Firebenders because of Zuko. A Kyoshi Warrior was part of the royal family. The Avatar herself looked more like Izumi’s grandmother than Izumi did as her namesake. 

Katara and Zuko would indeed live forever.