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“Excuse me, Sir, but you cannot enter.”
Aang looked down with surprise at the spear that had lowered in front of him, barring his entry to the Grand Opera House in Republic City. His eyes followed the shaft of the spear to the guard who held the other end of it. The guard stood solidly as gatekeeper in his place beside the richly adorned entrance to the theatre.
“I can’t enter?” Aang asked confused.
“You cannot enter.” The guard repeated with resolve. “Not unless you can provide your official stamped invitation.”
Aang looked at Katara, amused. He’d never needed to show an invitation before. Perhaps it was arrogant of him to assume he didn’t need one, but, well, that had been one of the few up-sides of being so singularly recognizable in the world.
“We, uh, misplaced our invitation,” he said, his hand mock-searching his body as though trying to find the lost invitation, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Do you think you could make an exception?”
“No exceptions,” the guard said. “The event tonight will host many of the world’s most important figures. We have been charged to secure the Opera House and ensure that no unauthorized persons gain entry.”
Katara, who stood stunning and beautiful in a new silk gown, held onto Aang’s arm and raised her eyebrows in incredulity at the guard. Aang was highly amused.
“Oh we certainly can’t have that!” he said, praising the guard. “You are to be commended for your vigilance in doing your duty!”
The guard pulled his shoulders back in pride; his partner standing across from him inflated proudly at the compliment as well.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“But, you see, I still need to get inside. Because, well…” Aang continued, pointing to the blaring blue arrow on his forehead, “I’m the Avatar.”
But instead of the usual deference and awe Aang was begrudgingly used to receiving after stating his title, the guard just sniggered, as though trying very hard not to laugh.
“No, you’re not.”
Aang was taken aback. Katara laughed out loud at her husband’s surprise. “You don’t think so?” she asked the guard, now clearly finding entertainment in the situation.
The guard turned his attention to her. “No. I don’t think so. We were warned about imposters like him, and we won’t be tricked!” The guard on the other side nodded in agreement.
Well this was new! Aang thought in bemusement. He hadn’t encountered a situation quite like this since he was a kid trying to take the ferry to Ba Sing Se.
“You think I’m an imposter?”
“I know you are.”
“Really?” Aang could hardly contain his enjoyment. “What gave me away?” he asked conspiratorially.
Katara glanced at Aang with glee in her eyes as she strove valiantly to contain her smile.
“It was the uh, the necklace,” the guard said motioning to the set of large wooden beads Aang wore around his neck. “Everyone’s wearing those right now, a fad. Too cliché for the real Avatar.”
It was true that imitation Air Nomad beads had become a fad—some stalls recently opened in the street market of Republic City were devoted wholly to the sale of them. But the one Aang wore was genuine. An over one-hundred-year-old original, in fact.
Katara brought her hand up and fingered Aang’s beads, playing along. “Shoot, Sweetie, we should have considered that. We wouldn’t want to appear cliché.”
Aang smiled down at her, the matching twinkle in their eyes exchanging an unspoken joke.
The guard continued, “You also don’t have the right…” the guard seemed to struggle to find the right word, “air about you.”
Despite the fact that Aang had stood in the presence of Koh and walked away unscathed, Aang wasn’t sure if he could keep a straight face. “Really?” he asked, suppressing his sarcasm. He turned to Katara. “Did you hear that, Sweetie? He says I don’t have the right air about me.”
Katara rolled her eyes at Aang’s self-amused grin.
“Naw,” the chatty guard continued. “You’re just too… nice. Too regular. The real Avatar would be far more imposing.”
“Good to know,” Aang replied as though taking mental note for his next charade.
“Anything else tip you off?” Katara asked the guard, trying hard not to burst into laughter.
“Well…” the guard glanced at his companion. The two exchanged a look before his fellow guard piped up, “There’s no way the real Avatar would wear that ridiculous beard!”
Katara sputtered, folding at the waist and completely unable to contain her laughter! Aang looked at her chagrinned. Aang had been a late bloomer when it came to facial hair. Despite overtaking Sokka in height not too far into his teens, Aang had remained baby-faced into his early twenties; he’d envied Sokka’s full beard for a full five years before he could grow one of his own. Only lately had he finally grown thick enough facial hair to sport this chin-strap beard. And he’d been inordinately proud of it.
“Don’t you dare mention this to Sokka,” Aang threatened, eyeing his wife good-naturedly.
“Oh how can I not?!” she replied without any remorse. “Oh, you’ll never live this one down!”
“Well, Sirs,” Aang said turning back to the guards and trying to ignore his wife who was wiping tears of mirth from her eyes while she continued to laugh heartily at his expense. “I guess you simply cannot be fooled! I suppose my wife and I will have to find some other way to entertain ourselves this evening.”
Turning Katara around and placing his hand around her waist, Aang started them down the long marble steps of the Opera House.
“But Aang,” Katara protested as they reached the bottom of the stairs and he began leading her down the sidewalk, “you’re not actually leaving, are you?! We really are supposed to be at this event tonight! Just airbend for the guards or something—I’m sure they’ll let us in!”
“Oh no, they don’t allow Avatar imposters in there!” Aang sang with a triumphantly devious smile. Katara knew full well that he hated the opera—he’d been looking for a way out of this obligation all week—so there was no way he was letting this perfect excuse not to attend get away from him!
“But Aang!” Katara protested, slipping her practiced hand into the one Aang had just shamelessly slid down her backside. “King Kuei will be there tonight! And Zuko!”
“Only if…” Aang said holding up a finger with dramatic seriousness, “they remember to bring their invitations.”
Katara laughed, and Aang swooped in with a kiss, unable to resist tasting of her merriment.
“I guess we’ll just be forced to find something else to occupy our evening.” Aang said joyfully as they rounded the corner.
“And what do you have in mind, Mr. Imposter?” Katara asked with a smirk and a sultry look.
Aang’s breath caught in his chest—Katara’s ability to fluster him never waned!
“Well,” he said stopping and bringing their linked hands around Katara’s lower back, pulling her towards him. “Maybe we could find a drink someplace…”
Katara raised an elegant eyebrow at him, her eyes equal parts tease and temptation.
“And some dancing,” Aang continued, dropping his hands to her hips and beginning to sway slightly. Katara hummed, her eyelids drooping and her arms finding their way around his neck.
“Then maybe we find a private place for a game of strip paisho afterwards…” Aang looked at his wife with dark, open lust.
“Hmm,” Katara murmured, “Not sure if you ought to be gambling tonight. Keep in mind you did just get thrown out in the streets for being a bad impersonation of yourself. Might not be your night for bets.”
“Oh no,” Aang chuckled, taking an even closer step towards her, bringing their bodies flush together. “Tonight, I’m feeling lucky.”
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