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See, the thing is, Katara's supposed to be the empathic one.
That was her thing, you know? She told her story countless times before, though never with the details filled in. The fire nation killed my mother, and Aang would look at her sadly, Haru would talk about his father, Jet would look at her with understanding and anger lurking in the edges of his eyes—and even Zuko will speak, that's something we have in common.
It will be ignoring the truth of the statement, in a way.
Because—Katara and Sokka both lost their mother, just like hundreds of other children, to the war and greed and cowardly men, but it's more than that, isn't it?
Katara didn't just lose her mother; she saw the direct aftermath of what happened.
How to describe it? The smell of burnt hair, the cinders that she breathed in; her mother's ashes, and a chard body with blood on the floor, in the snow, blood that looked so beautifully of spiderlilies. And Katara can't comprehend it, can't unsee it, and she can only feel her dad's strong arms holding her, holding her back as she tries to run to her, as if she could save her, somehow, someway, and she yells, and yells, and yells, "Mom! Mom! MOM!"
Not all fire nation. She knew that. She knew that from the start. It was why she was so infuriated by Jet, so betrayed, as he echoed the thoughts she thought in the dead of night where no one knows, and she hates it—hates him, for not knowing better, for not fighting, for losing hope—
She looks at Aang and she sees hope.
And Azula killed that hope.
Aang, she remembers, smelt so much like her mother did. Burnt. There was a charge however, in the air, something electric. Katara never hated thunderstorms, but in the months that Aang is asleep she will flinch at each one and wonder, when is he coming back to me?
Because Aang hadn't just been injured—he had been gone . She only just barely brought him back.
And for a long time, she was angry—angry at her mother for dying, her father for leaving, Aang for dying too, however brief it was, at Zuko for that moment she almost used her water on him, if she did Aang would be gone, he'd be gone, he'd be gone —
Her mother's murderer, the start of all this hate.
She is not a forgiving person. That's Aang. There are some on that list she has never forgave, and never will.
She doesn't need revenge anymore—and she doesn't know if it is because she is weak or she is strong, but she does know that she wouldn't want to face Aang as a murderer. She forgave Zuko, and knew he had his reasons—his past trauma and anger and heartache—and she knows when he takes that lightning for her, that she has never made a better choice—knowledge that is once again drown out by the searing desperation of, not again, as she smells burning flesh and electricity and ozone—
And Azula, his sister, cackled like it was all a joke in a play.
Katara is not forgiving.
She understands she has her reasons—her trauma and her anger and her heartbreak—she looks at the life of Azula and thinks, if this really was a play, it would be a tragedy. It's a detached observation, and it stings, because she's supposed to be the empathetic one—but despite their similarities, Katara can't muster up an ounce of sympathy.
Katara is not forgiving, but Aang is.
"Why do you go visit the fire princess?" Katara asks.
"Not a princess anymore," Aang reminds, "Nor an enemy."
"She was the enemy."
"And now, instead of the weapon Ozai made her, she will learn to be a girl," Aang replies evenly, pressing a kiss to her temple. When did he grow taller than her?
"Why?" Katara asks him. She does not understand. Aang hums, as if contemplating.
"Because I have the option to be kind, instead of cruel," he responds with a breath, close to a sigh, by her hair. "And I think Azula needs some kindness."
"She killed you," Katara choked.
"I know," Aang says gently. "You don't have to forgive her, Katara. This is just like before, isn't it? You don't have to forgive her, but you don't have to stay angry forever, either."
"I don't think I know how to stop being angry," Katara whispers.
"Me neither," she can feel how his lips smiled on her forehead. "Me neither."
"You're going to be okay?"
"I will be."
"She won't hurt you again?"
"I wouldn't let her."
Katara sighs. She lets go of just a fraction of her grief, when she says, "Okay. I trust you."
"You're the best girlfriend ever," Aang grins, and Katara smiles back.
Katara isn't forgiving. Aang is. And in this, Katara loves everything about Aang; it's as simple as that.