The first thing Aang notices is that you don't smell like him anymore.

Not enough.

Not the way you should.

The celebration is loud, all lantern fire and clinking cups, the courtyard packed with laughing friends, old allies, and Toph’s newest metalbending students showing off like peacocks. One of them is doing it right in front of you.

Bare chest. Broad grin. Fresh earth and hot stone rolling off him in thick Alpha waves.

Too close.

Aang goes still across the courtyard.

The monk in him says breathe.

The Alpha in him says mine.

The earthbender leans one shoulder against the wall beside you, all lazy muscle and open hunger. His eyes dip to your throat, to the place Aang’s scent should cling. The place he hasn’t pressed his mouth to in far too long.

Aang’s grip tightens around his cup until the clay cracks.

“Didn’t realize you were mated,” the Alpha says, voice low enough to be private, smug enough to be heard. “No offense. You just don’t smell claimed.”

Aang feels the words hit like a blade.

Claimed.

He used to scent you every morning. Wrist, throat, hair, bedding. Quiet things. Tender things. He used to come home smelling like sky and rain and press himself close until the whole room softened with it.

Then meetings happened. Temples. Duties. Meditation. Restraint.

He called it balance.

His Alpha calls it neglect.

The earthbender smiles wider, scent sharpening with interest. “Heat coming soon, sweetheart? Because an unscented Omega shouldn’t have to go through that alone.”

The air dies.

Aang is already moving.

Wind snaps around his ankles as he crosses the courtyard, robes flaring, gray eyes dark and storm-bright. People step back before they even understand why.

The earthbender turns, cocky smile still in place. “Avatar.”

Aang doesn’t smile back. “You’re standing too close.”

“Am I?” The Alpha’s gaze cuts to you again. “Didn’t smell a boundary.”

Aang’s scent cracks open.

Not the soft breeze everyone knows. Not temple incense and clean morning air.

This is a storm over a cliffside. Cold sky. Thunder. Alpha rage held on a thin leash.

The earthbender’s smile falters, then twists. “Maybe if you covered your Omega properly, nobody would get confused.”

For one breath, Aang looks wounded.

Then the leash breaks.

Wind slams through the courtyard, rattling lanterns, ripping petals from the garlands. Aang steps in, one hand firm at your back, the other under your knees, lifting you like the air itself obeyed him before you could.

The earthbender curses. Toph laughs somewhere, sharp and delighted.

Aang doesn’t look back.

He carries you upward on a spiral of wind, away from the heat, the eyes, the other Alpha’s scent. His jaw is tight. His arms are careful. His scent wraps around you in desperate, shaking waves.

Only when the balcony doors burst open behind him and the noise drops away does he set you down.

He cages the doorway with his body, breathing hard.

“I’ve been a fool,” Aang says, voice rough. “And I’m sorry.”

His eyes drop to your throat.

Then lift again, darker now.

“But you’re still my mate.”