we have all eternity (to love the dead)

soulmate au

Soulmates were everything a person wanted and more, or so the legends told. As a child, Katara had always dreamed of meeting her soulmate, of being swept off her feet by some dashing stranger, of hearing her name fall from their lips like snowflakes fluttering down from the pink sky above. She'd found solace in this perfect person, and she'd used their unlimited potential to distract herself from the horrors of war ever surrounding her icy home.

Sokka had teased her about it, her tendency to drift into dreams, but she knew he longed to meet his soulmate, too. As such, his barbs never dug deep.

The day Katara learned she didn't have a soulmate, she'd wept for hours. Her mother's words of comfort had fallen upon uncaring ears, because what did it matter that a rare few were born without soulmates, what did it matter that she could lead a happy life without one, what did it matter that she had such a unique opportunity for freedom in her passion, why, why did it have to be her? How was that fair?

Deep down, Katara suspected she'd always known. The name of one's soulmate was the first word spoken on a child's first birthday, oftentimes the first word they'd ever say. Sokka had known the name of his soulmate for as long as Katara could remember, and he would express his excitement about meeting her on only the quietest of nights.

Yue, he'd say, breathless, the word but a whisper slipping from the tip of his tongue. Have you ever heard a more beautiful name?

Katara would always giggle in reply. No, Sokka, I haven't.

Sokka would then stare up at the star-dotted, moonlit sky, his face and body washed over with a pale silver glow. You know, I bet the moon doesn't even hold a candle to her.

Every time, Katara would rest her head on his shoulder and agree. Every time, Katara was unable to offer up a name of her own. The signs were there, they'd always been there, the nagging terror that on her first birthday she had been—

"You were silent, sweetie," her mother had told her on her eighth birthday, holding Katara's face in her hands as Katara screamed and cried like a child whose future had been ripped away from her. To eight-year-old Katara, maybe it had been. "But Katara, listen to me. Just because you don't have a soulmate doesn't mean you won't find love."

"Yes it does, Mom," Katara had sobbed, shaking her head and trying to pull away from her mother. "It means there's no one out there who's perfect for me!" Years of fantasies, years of hopes and dreams, the possibility of freedom and the end of this war were gone, destroyed, torn to pieces, and there was no putting them back together.

"Shh, sweetie, I need you to take a deep breath," her mother had crooned, thumbing a tear from beneath Katara's eye. "I need you to listen very closely to what I'm about to tell you, okay?"

It had taken a minute, but Katara remembered that she'd managed to do as instructed, because even—or perhaps especially—at her lowest points, she would always turn to the advice of her mother. When her sobs had faded to quiet hiccups, her mother continued.

"I know it hurts to not have a soulmate, Katara, and it is more than okay for you to let yourself feel that hurt. But in some ways, I promise your life is better this way. Do you want to know why?"

Katara had nodded, doubt riddled in her bones.

"Because without a soulmate, sweetie, it means you get to have a choice. Some soulmates are destined to end in destruction or pain, others in tragedy, but you, Katara?" Her mother had placed a gentle, teary kiss to Katara's forehead. "You get to choose if that love is worth it. And the power of choice is something hard to find these days."

At the time, Katara had barely processed those words, instead letting her mother pull her into the tightest of hugs as she began to cry all over again. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair.