Welcome to the end of The Game. Thank you all for reading and leaving wonderful reviews! I wouldn't be writing without your praise.

Epilogue

Let's assume you were right
And play the game of charm and strange
And satellite
And when we've all had our fun
Deflate the stars
And put away the sun
And so we can call it a day

'Cause I'll never prove that my motives were pure
So let's remove any question of cure
'Cause even though you've made it pretty obscure
Baby, it's clear, from here—
You're losing your atmosphere
From here, you're losing it….

—Aimee Mann, "Satellite", Bachelor No.2 (2001)

"The events directly following these strange, forgotten days you already know. But what you probably didn't know, and what I learned much, much later, included some rather inexplicable circumstances…."

Second Sight

Sokka had no idea when he'd picked up the Firebender's face plate—that skull-like visage wasn't exactly a memento he cared to keep, especially tucked into the folds of his tunic so close to his heart.

But that night, once everyone else had gone to sleep, he lay down and held it up to the sky, gazing up at the stars and the waxing half moon through the eyeholes.

And for once—though not for the first time—he wondered what it was like to be one of them.

A Draught from the Well of Strength

"You want to learn to fight so bad? Study closely!"

And she did.

But it felt like she knew all the moves, knew exactly what the chauvinistic Waterbending master would do next. And it wasn't just keen reflexes that allowed her anticipate and counter each of his attacks….

A touch of something beyond her own abilities and instincts guided her through bending forms she'd never performed in her life—forms that were suddenly as clear as daylight in her mind. She commanded the frozen waves, the ice disks, the surges and swells of snow and sleet with all the raw talent of a prodigy…

…Or a seasoned master…

And though she lost, it didn't occur to her until later just how much power she had wielded.

Made To Last

It wasn't mistrust or curiosity that kept Jee from dropping the subject. He was just so stubborn and hard-headed that no explanation the retired general gave satisfied him.

He still couldn't figure out how that perfectly round hole had been bored through several feet of metal and piping, from the brig up to the main deck; or how the bounty hunters had managed to sneak aboard and sabotage the ship so thoroughly. He felt there should be a deeper investigation, before the repairs were completed so thoroughly they wouldn't be able to study the damage in detail. He voiced his concerns to the old general.

"Shoddy craftsmanship doesn't deserve a second thought," Iroh had grunted in dismissal over his teacup. He sighed. "They just don't make ships like they used to," he complained sullenly.

No one else questioned the revered military man's explanation of the events surrounding the unfortunate and near-fatal encounter with the bounty hunters…but it just didn't sit right with the lieutenant.

"Remember how that Xirxiu tore off the deck plating over the fore cargo hold like it was paper?" Iroh tsked. "I tell you, back in my day, they made ships to last…"

Hearing a rambling, drawn-out story coming on, Jee quickly refilled the retired general's teacup to keep him from regaling him with his extensive reminisces, then reminded him that Music Night would begin very soon, and would Prince Zuko perhaps like to play the Sungi horn for them tonight?

Belated

Back in the Air temples, birthdays were always celebrated with fruit cakes topped with fluffy, flavoured icing. The boys would gather for Airball tournaments and other games, followed by a kingly vegetarian feast. And the birthday boy would receive a blessing and one humble, treasured gift from the temple monks: a toy, a piece of pottery, a poetry scroll, a new pair of shoes, or even, if he had been especially good, a new glider.

Despite the simplicity of the celebrations, every little monk looked forward to his birthday.

So it was with a start that Aang realized he'd forgotten all about celebrating his natal day—the first one in over a hundred years. Thirteen was, after all, a big number for him: the first of his teen years, the first step out of adolescence… How could he have forgotten?

Then again, in his frantic quest to master the elements and save the world, it wasn't inconceivable that he had overlooked it...

Waterlogged

It must have been the adrenaline or the onset of hypothermia, because when he slipped into the sacred oasis sanctuary and spotted the Water Tribe girl standing by the Avatar, his heart snagged, squeezed and began hammering between his ears.

"He's my friend," he heard her say cheerfully. "I'm perfectly capable of protecting him." Her mellifluous voice echoed in his soul and called to him, like a siren song from a distant dream…

But the strange moment evaporated as he refocused.

"Well, aren't you a big girl now?"

What a strange choice of words, Zuko thought as shock and dismay registered on the Waterbender's face. He'd never seen the girl as either little or big, young or old—only as the enemy.

Turning Tricks (Waterlogged, part II)

He hit the ground face-first, jouncing his already bruised ribs. A white-hot lance of pain seared his chest. The smell of crushed grass filled his nostrils as he inhaled sharply to keep from crying out.

"I see you've learned a new trick," he gritted, pushing himself up with as much dignity as he could manage.

And why had he assumed that? Zuko shook his head, trying the clear the creeping fog in his brain, a silvery and luminous shape that seemed to be trying to coalesce into an obscure memory, or a dream of a memory….

He'd never fought the girl before, never studied her all that closely, or so he told himself. His focus had always been on the little Airbending monk.

So how would he know anything about the Waterbender's techniques?

Shooting Stars

"Look! That must be Aang!"

They followed where she led. No one questioned what Katara had seen because none of them had—or could—see it. Girls had sharper eyes, anyhow, right?

But just what had she seen through the mass of fat flurries blowing around them? The flutter of orange robes? The blue-white glow of the Avatar's tattoos? What else could it have been? Certainly not the bright streak of the Avatar's spirit arcing across the sky; because only the Avatar, being the bridge between the real and Spirit worlds and all, could see Spirits…right?

Right?

Bigger Fish

"The Spirits are not to be trifled with…"

Iroh had learned that the hard way. But as much as he disliked Zhao and would have gladly seen to it that the arrogant admiral learn that lesson, too, a gut feeling (and his enormous gut was fairly accurate) told him this was the moment he had to intervene. The critical event he'd learned about from the Crow Spirit was upon them.

Indeed, his Spirit eye could detect the faint, restless stirrings of the otherworldly plain, and if he squinted just so, he could almost make out a tall figure in white, gesturing, pointing toward the Water Tribe palace, that way, that way, hurry, hurry, hurry…

Lucky

"…And then she said he'd kill us all," the crusty old soldier laughed, slapping Li in the arm. "Can you believe that? That crazy old hag thinks a little Airbending monk can defeat a whole invasion force!"

The young private ignored the older soldier and focused his attention on the water. Ever since Admiral Zhao had taken him and the rest of Prince Zuko's crew and troops for this invasion force, he'd had an uneasy feeling. Something was going to happen, and the anticipation had him on edge. He simply hadn't been able to shake this sense of foreboding that hung over his head, even though he'd been excluded from the landing parties and left behind on the boat.

The other men had called him "lucky."

"As if a little boy can do anything to hurt us way out here," the other soldier drawled on. "I say, come and get us! They only leave the best behind to protect the ships, you know," he boasted.

Li scowled behind the stifling face-plate. He didn't think it was wise to tempt Fate, and he was certain his junior status had landed him in the same category as the slightly tipsy private he was currently on the watch with. What a disgrace.

He certainly had more discipline than the half-drunk cretin. Prince Zuko would never have tolerated such lewd behaviour. If Lieutenant Jee were here…

But Jee wasn't here: He was serving on Zhao's flagship along with General Iroh. For once in his life, the young private found he missed the reassuring presence of the two older, more experienced men. They would have put this man in his place.

But this wasn't Prince Zuko's ship. That was becoming more and more evident by the second.

He looked up at the sky again and wondered what had happened to the moon. It had been a cloudless night a moment ago, but now, it was unnaturally dark and things felt…wrong, somehow. That had only amplified his dread.

And then a bluish glow had filled the great city's interior. Every one of Li's hairs had stood on end until the light had faded, plunging the seas into darkness once more.

Since his ship was on the very outskirts of the patrol area, the private could hardly see anything that was happening in the hot zone, but he didn't dare leave his post for a telescope. So there was nothing more he could do but watch and.wait...

What in the world was going on over there?

"Heh, look at that! Those Water Tribe barbarians are going to try to attack us with more waves." The soldier pointed at the swell of water rising from near the base of the ruined wall. That strange and beautiful luminescence pulsed from within the black depths.

Li suddenly had a very, very bad feeling.

"These ships have so much ballast, they'd never be able to flip us!" The soldier laughed heartily and slapped the young man again on the back.

The hump in the water grew, and the eerie blue-white light it emitted intensified as it rose. Li's stomach somersaulted with fear.

"Huh," the other soldier muttered as the rampaging Spirit of the Ocean reared its head. "Now there's a trick I've never seen before…."

Lessons Relearned

He felt her body become nothing, her warmth evaporating from his embrace.

Her kiss, her words…she had expressed her love for him, for her people, without regret or resentment. She had willingly given up her life to restore the balance, to save the world, including everyone who lived in the Fire Nation.

She'd felt no anger or hatred in the end. She needed no vengeance. She only wanted to save those she loved…

And so did he.

He glanced over at the saddle, and was not surprised to see their captive had escaped. They had thanklessly saved Zuko from a cold, lonely, bitter demise, despite Sokka's protests. But he knew deep down it had been the right thing to do—the Aang thing to do.

Would Zuko do the same for any of them? He would have liked to think so…but it was hard to imagine.

The Water Tribe warrior slid his watery gaze to the old man—Zuko's uncle, a man he should have loathed simply because of his nationality—and felt…nothing. What purpose would holding him captive serve? He had helped save the Moon Spirit, helped save the world….he did not deserve persecution or punishment. He deserved…

"C'mon," Sokka prompted his sister, purposefully ignoring the Fire Nation general. "We should find Aang."

Without another glance behind them, they left that place of life and death.

And somehow, though he didn't turn to look back, Sokka knew General Iroh was smiling at him with gratitude. Because Sokka had given him and his nephew the one thing they both deserved most:

A chance.

"There were plenty of other instances where things just didn't add up or make a whole lot of sense," the old man insisted, "but all those involved deny that those events ever occurred, of course, because they don't remember." He sighed a little wistfully. "It's probably a good thing, though, considering that the Spirits and gods involved themselves in the whole fiasco. I suspect Fate and the Keeper of Dreams and Memories were not the only players in this game.

"As for the spiritual tether between Zuko and Katara…well, it never faded. Not really. An indelible bond had been forged between them, something deeper and more profound than a Spirit tie. Of course, Katara's soul was fused with her brother and the Avatar's, as well, but her connection to Zuko was especially strong. They would never admit it, but they could sometimes sense each other—what they were feeling, and when the other were nearby. Sometimes, their moods would shift dramatically if the other was particularly distressed or agitated.

"For a long time, I thought it was their natural dispositions as benders of Water and Fire—both can be extremely fluid, dynamic and passionate, you know. But I eventually began to see a pattern of behavior when we started traveling together. If one was happy and the other sad, they would either reach a middle ground, or else the one with the dominant mood would infect the other. It was all rather dramatic: Zuko was an angry young man who was so full of love he didn't know how to give; and Katara could be deceptively cheerful, when she was in fact prone to fits of depression. I'm certain they found their mood swings equally bewildering, but I guess most people chalked them up to teen angst. Let me just say their constant emotional battles played havoc on all our nerves."

He chuckled lightly and sipped his tea. "All things said and done, the bond brought them closer together. I do not think there is another pair in the world as well suited as Katara and Zuko are.

"Mind you, I've always had my suspicions that their relationship may have been the result of divine intervention. But who am I to question what the Spirits do? The results were more than satisfactory, if you ask me." He grinned. "Obviously, you know what happened to them in their later years, though I doubt you're interested in that story, being so young."

Two pairs of eyes, both glowing yellow against olive-tinged complexions, appraised the old man with skepticism.

"You're making stuff up again, Yeh-Yeh," the elder child complained. "Dad never caught the Avatar, and he never had Mom on his ship. Dad says he and Mom fought with the Avatar, and that they used to be enemies before they got married."

"That's also true," Iroh conceded with a broad smile, "but just because they can't remember, doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"Well, I liked the story," the younger child said with a wide grin for the man she called grandfather. "My favourite is still the Witch lady. She's scary, but kinda nice, too. And kinda funny."

"It's important not to judge people by the way they look," the old general advised her sagely. "You remember that, princess."

"But Dad's smarter than that," the elder child complained again. "I mean, no offense Yeh-Yeh, but you couldn't possibly explain how a perfectly round hole went through the deck, even if you tricked Commander Jee into forgetting about it. Dad would never let that kind of thing go."

"I think you underestimate your father's…er, capacity for obsession." Iroh grimaced. "He was rather of a one-track mind back then."

The boy ignored his explanation. "And the Witch woman—if she just went around wiping people's minds all the time, wouldn't she get in trouble with the Spirits or something? Wouldn't reality break down if she kept messing around with people's memories? And what about the moon? Would they notice that it was suddenly a half moon instead of a new moon? Mom would know about those kinds of things…."

Iroh sighed tiredly as the young prince poked more holes in his plot than a badger-mole in a mountain. He was definitely getting too old for bedtime stories.

"And besides," the boy went on, "Mom and Dad have never mentioned anything about any of those events. From what Dad said, you guys pulled in for repairs a few weeks before the Siege of the Northern Water Tribe, and then pirates almost killed him and blew up his ship. And then—"

"He was there, son, he knows what happened."

The siblings spun around. "Daddy!" they cried simultaneously, and raced into the Fire Lord's outstretched arms. He caught his son first and hugged him tightly.

"I thought you wouldn't be home until next week!" the young prince exclaimed.

"Change of plans," the Fire Lord said mildly, and smiled over at his old relative. "Did they behave?"

Iroh shrugged. "They were as well-behaved as can be expected…considering who their parents are." He smirked.

"Haw-haw, very funny." Zuko picked up his daughter and slung her still-pudgy form against his hip. "Has Yeh-Yeh been telling you lies about me and your mother again? If he is, maybe you can see him and me fight an Agni Kai." He grinned widely, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"I like his stories!" the little princess protested. She suddenly grew very serious. "No Agni Kais, Daddy!" she declared with a scowl, wagging an admonishing finger at him. "You might hurt someone again!"

Zuko arched an eyebrow at his uncle. "Have you been telling them the adult version of that story?" he asked.

"Oh, no, just the usual Fire Nation bedtime-story stuff, you know. Bloodshed, violence, the obligatory kissing scene…"

The young prince scrunched his face up and stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"I only expounded upon a few details for my guest's benefit," Iroh explained, gesturing to the slight man in the corner who had been diligently taking notes.

He stood now and bowed to the Fire Lord reverently. "Your Majesty."

"Good evening, Professor Zei," Zuko nodded in acknowledgement. "I hope you don't take my uncle's tall tales as fact for the Knowledge Spirit's library—they're more suited to fiction."

"Even in the most fantastic tales, there is a modicum of truth," Zei replied with an enigmatic smile. To Iroh he bowed deeply. "Thank you for sharing your story with me, Your Highness. I must retire so that I can make notes, but would it be all right to call on you if I have any questions?"

The old man nodded and bid him a good evening, and the young prince and princess bowed respectfully to their tutor before he exited.

"I do say, he's become worldlier since leaving that musky old library," Iroh mused. "And he's surprisingly good with the children."

"The Avatar chose wisely," Zuko agreed, and looked at his children, "assuming you like your tutor?"

"He's funny," the prince said thoughtfully. "Not ha-ha funny, but he does teach us some interesting things."

"I like it when he teaches about animals!" the princess declared and then gripped her father's collar. "Daddy, can we go to Kyoshi and ride the elephant koi?"

Zuko pursed his lips to stifle a laugh. "We'll see, dear. You kids go on and get ready for bed." Zuko put his daughter down and scooted them away. "I need to speak with your grandfather."

The brother and sister raced off, eager to obey their Fire Lord and father's command. Zuko watched them go, feeling a sweet ache in his heart.

"So, you still don't believe it happened?" Iroh asked, slurping his tea.

"I know better than to listen to your crazy stories, old man," the Fire Lord said with a bit of a smile. "Besides which, you haven't given us any hard proof, except in circumstantial evidence."

Iroh twisted his lips into a knowing smirk. "You should go speak to your wife."

"I will, presently." A honeyed warmth filled his soul. He was saving the best visit for last, of course.

"Just go see her."

A feeling of cold dread trickled into his heart. "Uncle, is something wrong?"

Iroh shook his head, but not trusting him entirely, Zuko excused himself and hastened to the Fire Lady's suite, a bud of panic threatening to blossom within him. Had something happened to his beloved?

His step was light and quick, nearly mute but for the rustle of his billowing silk over-robes. The leather soles of his shoes squeaked against the spotless black marble as he strode down the long corridor, slapping loudly when he broke into a scurry, a jog, and then an all-out run. Every jarring step loosened more fears: Was she ill? Had someone been harassing her? Was there bad news about her aging grandmother? Her father? Oh, gods, what about Sokka's children? What news of the Avatar? They had not heard from Aang in weeks…

He burst into her suite, a little winded not from his exertions, but from the trepidation that made his heart pound against the ribcage. Calm, calm, be calm…Uncle's voice pleaded. No, it couldn't be so bad, or else he would have met with the news as soon as he'd arrived home.

He called her name through the darkened rooms, smothering the anxiety in his voice. No reply came. To his relief, he found her sitting in the window seat in her boudoir, reading by the blue-white light of the moon and the soft gold glow of an oil lamp. Her brow was creased in concentration, her lips moving as she read.

Warmth spread through him at the very sight of her alive and well. Gods, but she was beautiful. Dark auburn hair flowed in wavy cascades over her shoulders; her mocha skin glowed in the ruddy light; and those keen blue eyes, wide and bright, shone like moonlight on the ocean.

Desire slugged him in the gut and a surge of lust flowed thickly through his veins. He wondered at how he could have failed to notice such radiant beauty in his youth, back when they were both just teens struggling to find themselves. And it was not just her fresh, exotic looks that he'd neglected to appreciate—she'd always been a force to be reckoned with, not just in her bending prowess but in her fiery temper, as well. Oh, to see her rail like thunder! No woman of the Fire Nation had her spark of life, or her steel will.

They'd truly been a match, once he'd gotten over his stubbornness and she over her grudge against him. He thought about all that time in the bygone days of their youth wasted on spiteful, heated words, politicking and bargaining when they could have been exploring their mutual passions in each other's arms.

To think it had taken a jealous little Air monk to get him to really notice the Waterbender and take action!

Regal-looking even in her simple robes of blue, the Fire Lady was so intent on the little gilt-edged volume in her hands that she hadn't heard her husband enter. He smiled wryly. She was always so studious when it came to her books. With a gesture, the Fire Lord made the lamp brighten and flare with gold sparks, and she flinched away from it, snatching her book away.

"Katara."

She turned and sent him a huge smile. "Hi, Zuko."

In two long strides, the Fire Lord crossed the room and embraced his wife, raining kisses over her face, drinking from her lips as a parched man at an oasis would. But despite his amorous intentions, the Waterbender seemed distracted.

"What's wrong, my love?" he murmured in her hair. She stood a little apart from him.

"It came to me again last night," she said a little hesitantly, drawing him down beside her on the bench. "The dream about the crow and the man in white."

Zuko pressed his lips together, squeezing her hand. "Tell me about it."

She turned back to gaze out the window. "We were in the Spirit Realm again. The crow and a man in white were there, as usual. But this time, there was a woman, too."

"A woman?"

"An Earth Kingdom woman. She was…old, but not that old. She had a young spirit. And she was…well, not very attractive. Somehow, I felt like I knew her." She looked into his face. "Zuko, I think she was the witch woman from your uncle's story."

He straightened. They'd both heard Iroh tell that bedtime story enough times to have each conjured up their own versions and visions of it in their imaginations. But Katara sounded very confident of the woman's identity.

"She just stood there, giggling like this was all a grand joke. But that's not the weird part," Katara went on, tunneling her fingers through her hair. "When I woke up, a giant crow was perching on the balcony. And he was…watching me." Her cheeks reddened.

Zuko's skin prickled. Bitter jealousy coursed hotly through him, and for a moment, he was bewildered by his reaction. For Spirits' sake, it was just a bird! He tempered himself and let her continue in earnest.

"Before it flew away, the bird dropped something onto the terrace." She went to her desk and picked it up to show her husband.

It was a hand scythe, the wooden pommel grey and cracked with age. Something about that crescent shape, the reddish-brown flecks of rust on the keen, serrated blade, and the menacing glint of the metal made Zuko think about a wild woman's rasping laughter. He reached out and tapped the blade with a fingernail. It twanged discordantly, and he shivered.

"What do you think it means?" she asked.

Zuko chewed his lip. His uncle wasn't one to play practical jokes, especially when they were at Katara's expense. Neither were his children. No one else, save the Avatar and her brother, knew about these dreams she'd been having since she was a teenager. So who would have left this eerie token for the Fire Lady?

His heart squeezed at the distress he saw marring the Water woman's delicate features. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. He soothed his fingers over her soft cheek, tilting her chin up to look into her sparkling eyes. "But the Spirits will give us the answers in time. Trust in them."

"You're right." Katara nodded after a moment. "I guess I've been hanging out with your uncle too much. He's put all kinds of fanciful stories into my head…" She gave a rueful little laugh.

"My uncle is many things. But above all, he is wise and trustworthy, and has even been known to tell the truth now and again." He grinned. "Let's just keep our minds open to the possibilities. I suppose we can all accept a little fantasy in our lives, can't we?"

Katara giggled. "I don't know when it happened, Zuko, but you turned out all right," she jibed, then wrapped her arms around his torso and squeezed him tightly, sighing. "Thank you."

He slid his arms around her shoulders, cocking a smile. "For what?"

"For just being you."

His heart warmed. He held her like that for a while, basking in the moon's soft light, then suggested they go to bed. While she conducted her toilette, he visited the children, who were already both asleep, and tucked them both in. How they had grown in such a short period! He would never cease marveling at what he and Katara had created together.

Exiting the prince and princess's room, he made one last stop to ensure his uncle had taken his medicine. Iroh didn't like to be babied, but Zuko loved him too much to leave him be. He bid the revered general a good night, then retired to his lady's suite, finding his wife already dozing lightly in bed.

As he shucked his clothes, he glimpsed the little book Katara had been reading, lying open on the window seat. The book was marked on a picture of a strange looking black bird. He picked it up and read the caption:

Samjokoh, the three-legged crow who serves Agni and carries the sun across the sky on his back.

His scalp prickled as a hazy memory surfaced; memories of nights around the great mantel eating sticky dessert cakes, while Uncle told stories harking back to the days before Firebenders, when Agni and the Spirits had walked the earth. One particular legend stood out in his mind, and it seemed strange that he hadn't remembered it until now.

Uncle had once mentioned that the Crow figured in a great many tales, even beyond the Fire Nation. Not only was the Crow a trickster, but he also had many guises and many counterparts. Uncle's bedtime story and Katara's dreams both mentioned the man in white, the Crow's spiritual half…

But what if there was another part to the whole? A third leg to be counted?

Three legs…three guises…three parts to a whole. The bird, the man…and the crow-talker woman….

Was that who the woman in Katara's dream was? Another incarnation of the Crow? Assuming that the crow named Bai-Bai from Uncle's story and the crow from Katara's dream were one and the same, was it not then possible that Bai-Bai was, in fact, Samjokoh disguised as a lesser Spirit? Could it be that Agni had sent his servant to do his work?

If so, what games had the Spirits and gods really been playing with their lives?

He shuddered, then chastised himself in the next heartbeat. Ridiculous. Uncle was a consummate storyteller, after all—it seemed he'd managed to plant his far-fetched ideas into the Fire Lord's head, too.

"Zuko," Katara murmured drowsily, "come to bed."

Tamping down these disturbing thoughts, Zuko turned his attention back to the present and gratefully crawled under the cool, silk sheets next to Katara. He leaned on his elbow and watched his wife, her mocha skin silvered by the glow of the moon.

She was his most trusted advisor, his truest friend, his greatest ally, his most worthy opponent, his life, his love, his Fire Lady. He wondered how Fate could have cursed him with such a tumultuous and star-crossed youth as his had been, then rewarded him with such a wondrous mate. Truly, Fate was a strange mistress, but he thanked the Spirits everyday that he was who he was and that he had lived the extraordinary life he did.

"Whatcha' lookin' at?" she asked sleepily, though her eyes were still closed. "You haven't been away that long."

"On the contrary," Zuko said as he began to reacquaint himself with her body, "I've been away far too long from you. And I want to make up for lost time."

The rest of the night was all about the here and now. Never mind what hazy dreams and forgotten memories held: He had spent far too much of his life looking backwards, with regret and anger and shame and resentment. The future was all that mattered.

Twelve years ago, the once-exiled and dishonoured renegade prince of the Fire Nation never would have thought he could have a happily-ever-after. But today, he had his kingdom, his throne, and his honour. He was surrounded by people who loved him and trusted him; loyal subjects, friends, a mentor and father, children, and most important of all, a life partner in Katara.

He loved his life now. And as long as he had his beloved wife by his side, he intended to enjoy every day of it until the bittersweet end.

THE END.

I'm sad to say this is the end of the "trilogy" that started with one crazy idea that hit me in the shower (The Ho'Wan Island Carnival) to the gruelling sequel (Bent), and which winded to the side with little drabbles including Deathly and As the World Falls Down.

Captured! The Zutara Musical was written as a kind of parody to this story, but it's a fairly different tale. If you have nothing better to do, check it out: maybe it'll give you a giggle.

I must depart the fanfiction world for a time while I work on some original fiction. All the encouragement and practice I've received working here has propelled me to try to complete and submit a Harlequin novel, which I've set myself to finish for the end of the year. I know I said I'd take requests and try to finish them; some of them are harder to suss out than I'd anticipated. I'll see what I can do, but not gurantees: I'm pretty tapped out.

Wish me luck: and if you want to be a beta reader for some trashy romance, e-mail me!

Best Wishes and Fishes,

Vicki So.