[fic] Son of Heaven

[wildgoosery]

Title: Son of Heaven
Rating: PG
Word Count: 10,600
Summary: Iroh's son is dead, and his appeal to the spirits has failed. But his grief is interrupted when he's called away from Ba Sing Se to deal with an insubordinate unit: the Rough Rhinos, who've been making sport of Earth Kingdom peasants.

What he finds in the mountain forests takes his life on an abrupt turn.

Notes: Many thanks to hoshizora for looking this over for me, to achtung_baby for her time and talent in the service of a REALLY EXCELLENT ILLUSTRATION, and to avocado_love for giving me a reason to finally write it! This fic was originally posted as part of the avatarbigbang, but has been revised somewhat in the meantime.

***

"Please," he said. He fell to his knees, the damp moss soaking his robes. "I have come all this way."

"Then you are a fool."

He bowed lower, his fingers splayed and pressed into the mud. He felt chilled water and grit and the slick decay of vegetation against his skin; the smell of wet earth filled his nostrils; his own heart thundered against the cage of his ribs. But he knew such sensations were deceptive here, divorced from their significance in the world he knew. No true forest had ever been so still and silent as this; empty of all but the trees, the kneeling man and the three who stood before him. And no living creature had ever looked as they did, motionless but for the animal eyes that regarded him with cold, implacable distain. Monkey, Rabbit and Ox; ore, wood and earth. His time in the Order had taught him that much.

His bending had abandoned him. He could see no sky beyond the dim canopy, nor feel the pulse of the sun that he had drawn upon since childhood. Heavy fog blanketed the ground on every side, a cocoon of endless twilight that stifled all sense of time. He didn't know how many days had passed, nor if they even existed in this place.

"Please," he said again, the illusion of his voice dry and rasping. "Return my son, Lu Ten, to me."

The monkey frowned, now annoyed as well as bored. "This is not the afterlife."

"We did not take your son," said the rabbit gently. "Nor is he ours to give."

"I know well the power of the spirits," said Iroh. "Surely this boon would be a trifling one for beings as wise and strong as yourselves."

"Your people have ravaged our land," said the ox, low and unhurried. "You have burned our forests and poisoned our rivers. You have slain our mortals and crushed their cities. You have enslaved our chosen people, those who channel our land's energy through their bodies and bend our earth to their will. Your people have destroyed the land of their birth, and no longer speak to the spirits tied to their own soil." The ox's small, black eyes narrowed. "You dare appear before us, mortal, with your empty heart and hands soaked in blood? Who are you to ask for favors?"

"I do not expect your aid to come without cost. I offer you the most that any man can give. My life, in exchange for the life of my son."

The monkey waved his hand dismissively. "A mortal's death is of no value to us."

"I am the heir to the throne of the Fire Nation. I have killed hundreds of your people and broken through the walls of their capital. My grandfather started the war that has ravaged your lands. I offer you a chance for vengeance."

"Your departure from the mortal world will not undo the damage your bloodline has wrought," said the ox. "If you wish to end your life, do so on your own. Your body is more useful to the trees and animals of our forests than it is to us."

"I will give you anything. Surely there must be something you desire."

"Koh would gladly steal your countenance," the monkey sniffed, "but I doubt he would offer much of anything in exchange."

"Nor could he," the ox rumbled.

"Nor can any of us, little mortal," said the rabbit, soft and sympathetic. "What you are asking for cannot be done. Even if we could rifle through the masses of the dead, and even if we could find the soul of your son among them, his body can no longer contain it. It has died and begun to rot. His time in the mortal world has ended."

Iroh pressed his forehead against the mossy ground, cool against skin that burned with shame and helpless rage. He grieved for all the years he had spent at war; for all the simple joys of life and family he had sacrificed at the alter of his nation's greatness. He had left his beloved wife behind, the swell of new life just visible beneath her robes, and gone to subdue uprisings in the Hu Sin provinces; and he had returned to an empty bed, the earnest sympathy of his sister-in-law and a squalling infant son. Neither birth nor death had ever waited for him.

As soon as Lu Ten was old enough to ride a Komodo Rhino and weather a storm at sea, Iroh had begun to take him along on his campaigns to the east. He had taught Lu Ten the arts of strategy and combat, nurturing his talent for and insatiable interest in both. Only reluctantly had Iroh allowed his boy to be sent away to the academy, and upon his graduation Lu Ten had formally joined the elite forces of the Dragon of the West. He would be at Iroh's side for the greatest campaign in their family's celebrated history -- the conquest of Ba Sing Se -- rather than serving on some distant shore, too far away for Iroh to aid or protect.

Father and son had laughed together amidst the ruins of the outer wall, their eyes stinging from the smoke. They had drunkenly rambled through songs of victory and conquest at their camp just inside its borders, the field of some poor Earth Kingdom peasant flattened beneath their tent. Yet as Iroh had begun his assault on the great, sand-colored expanse of the first of the city's inner walls, Lu Ten had gone to investigate a disturbance further along their front lines.

A handful of Earthbenders had ambushed his unit, sucking them and their mounts down into the ground, their mouths and throats filling with sand. With all the jubilant chaos of triumph, no one had missed them until far too late.

Iroh had pulled his son from the earth and wept, the tears carving paths through the dust on Lu Ten's face.

Now he lifted his head. A trickle of illusory mud ran down along his nose and into his beard. "If you need only a body to house his spirit, then take my own," he rasped. "I am old, but there are years left in these bones. Give them to my son."

The monkey sniffed. "You aren't a jug, so easily emptied and refilled."

"Your son has gone," said the rabbit. "Let him rest."

"Go back to your war, fire breather," said the Ox. "You are not wanted here."

The rabbit stepped toward him, her white face solemn but not unkind. "Walk with me, little mortal," she said. "I will help you find your way."

They left the mossy clearing together, the rabbit walking upright beside him with short, quick strides. The fog thickened as they went, and the fabric of this world began to fray at the edges, trees and moss and water growing thin and insubstantial. Iroh thought he could hear the crackle of a lantern, and the cool air smelled of incense and decay.

"Your death is of no use to us," said the rabbit. Her voice seemed very far away, although she still kept pace at his side. "But your life is another matter."

"I don't understand."

"Your family has taken so much from our land," she went on, echoing as if across a great, still lake. "But fire brings life as well as destruction. And your hands can quell the flames of war as well as they can stoke them."

"You told me you cannot bring back Lu Ten," he said, keen with urgency. He could see the canvas of his tent through the mist.

"I cannot," said the rabbit. "Your son is beyond help, now." She smiled, the expression strange on her long features. "But another is not."

"I don't understand," he said again, his own voice reed-thin. But she was gone before his lips had formed the words.

He was sitting crosslegged on the floor of his tent, his legs and feet numb, his mouth parched and his stomach aching with hunger. A filament of smoke curled from the bowl of incense beside his knee. The body of his son was laid out before him, the young face gray and perfectly still, the armor still caked with earth.

That night, Iroh stood beside the funeral pyre with the whole of his army behind him, hundreds of men at rapt attention for a ceremony worthy of a prince. Iroh recited Lu Ten's lineage, as was custom, his voice still rough with grief and exhaustion and faltering in places. But he made no other speeches that night, though he had done as much for a dozen others who had died under his command. No words he could think of would do justice to what he had lost.

He watched the flames leap toward the stars, casting long shadows on the city walls.

***

Days passed in a haze of mourning. The hope that had stayed his grief was gone, and he collapsed entirely beneath it. He sat alone in his tent and watched the strip of wall and sky he could see through a gap in the canvas, floods of sunlight and moonshine swelling and receding on the sheer, smooth stone. He felt adrift in a frozen sea, numb and aching as the waves broke over him. He held Lu Ten's helmet in his lap, a strip of the hard leather polished by his thumb.

He knew his men would only wait for so long -- that mutiny loomed closer with every hawk he ignored and every officer he turned away. The siege had been a long, hard one that lasted through two winters. Many of his men had died, crushed and smothered and beaten by turns, and those who'd survived had done so with too little food and too many months away from their homes. Now that their prize was finally at hand, the agrarian ring behind them and the dwindling strength of the Earth King's army distracted by raids to either side, the camp seemed to vibrate with anticipation. They had resupplied with the city's own farms and storehouses; they were fed and well-rested. Naught but their general's silence held them back.

Iroh watched the hours pass over the wall -- the prize that had cost him so dearly -- and wondered how long it would take for someone to kill him and take his command.

A part of him wished they would hurry.

On the fifth day, the light in his tent changed abruptly. He blinked and turned his head, and realized that the flap had been pushed open and his second-in-command, Lieutenant Jee, stood in the doorway.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," he said, not waiting for Iroh to acknowledge him, "but a hawk just arrived for you."

Iroh lowered his eyes and turned away again. "I will attend to it later."

"It's about Colonel Mongke," Jee went on, as if Iroh had not spoken. "The hawk is from a military outpost in the Feng Shu mountains. Mongke's unit has been hassling the villages in the area."

"The Rough Rhinos?" Iroh frowned, irritation burning away a little of the fog. "I sent Mongke to protect the colonies along the coast. What business could bring him so far inland?"

"He's been burning peasant villages."

Iroh clucked his tongue. "I've told him time and time again. They cannot grow our rice if they're dead."

"Shall I send orders for him to break off and return to his assignment?"

"No," said Iroh. He stood, his legs trembling from disuse. "Such orders would only be ignored. I will have to go myself."

"Then I'll accompany you," said Jee.

Iroh walked to the far corner of his tent, where his armor was laid out atop a low wooden chest. He carefully set Lu Ten's helmet beside his own. "I am reluctant to take you away from the front, Lieutenant," he said. "Your talents are of far more use here. Why waste them on an old man?"

Jee had served under Iroh for many years, and could not have missed the implied dismissal in those words. To press any further would be tantamount to ignoring the wishes of his commanding officer, and Jee had never been the mutinous type. But he did not leave the tent, and when Iroh turned to face him Jee's posture was tense with stubbornness.

"I can't in good conscience let the crown prince of the Fire Nation travel without an escort," he said. "It would be a dereliction of my duties and a betrayal of the trust the Fire Lord has put in those of us who serve you." Then, more quietly, "Your family has lost enough already. Don't invite more grief into their lives. Sir," he added, an afterthought in a moment between old comrades.

The transparency of implication went both ways between them. Iroh frowned. "If I had any plans to harm myself," he said, "by now you would have found my corpse dangling in this tent."

"You know as well as I do, Sir, that crossing the Si Wong desert alone would do just as good a job as any rope."

"I have made the passage on my own before."

"When you were thirty. And you were damned lucky then."

Iroh lifted his breastplate from the chest, its lacquered surface gleaming in a sliver of daylight. "A lieutenant doubting the judgement of a prince?" he rumbled, warmed by a hint of his usual good humor. "My brother would have challenged you to an Agni Kai by now."

"Which is why I thank the whim of fate that he was born second."

Iroh's lips twitched, not quite a smile but the closest he'd come in some time. "Tell the head groom we will require a pair of eel hounds. We leave at sunrise."

***

Eel hounds were normally reserved for messengers, with burdens too large or too important to trust to hawks. But Iroh's rank and royalty were each enough to merit an exception, and the evenings he had spent playing pai sho with the groomsmen won him the swiftest animals in the stable.

Desert, plains and the first, scrubby borders of forest flew beneath their mounts' swift feet. Soon they had reached reached the mountains, scaling the eastern slopes and then following the course of a snow-fed river. It lead them down into a sheltered valley thick with maple trees, the trunks so dense in places that the eel hounds were hard-pressed to wind between them.

Despite his many years in the field, Iroh had spent very little time in forests like this one. For an hour or so he was almost able to enjoy it, the sweet smell of greenery soothing away some of the weight that still pressed on his heart.

But as they neared the village where Mongke and his men had last been seen, Iroh could feel the change in the air. Ash clogged the streams they crossed and dusted the leaves of trees.

The village was a dense, squat rectangle of buildings, protected by walls on all four sides and by a dam a short ways up river, which formed a reservoir to get them through the summer and kept the valley from flooding in the spring. A small regimen of Fire Nation soldiers was stationed here, by all reports more successful than most at establishing some kind of peace with the locals. The hawk concerning Mongke had come from the regiment's commander, a captain named Wei, who was finding it far more difficult to maintain order when the smoke of burnt houses filled his valley more often than not.

A young corporal took their eel hounds at the gate, visibly anxious at having to manage two beasts that were twice his height. But the groomsmen under Iroh's command trained all their charges flawlessly, and the eel hounds seemed happy enough to be led to a paddock outside the village walls.

"I'm sorry, General," the corporal said as he returned to where Iroh and Jee were waiting at the gate. "Normally I'd bring them right to the stables instead of leaving them outdoors, but there's…ah…"

"I understand," said Iroh kindly. "I imagine five Komodo Rhinos require quite a bit of space."

The corporal relaxed by a fraction. "I'll have them moved as soon as possible, sir."

Iroh waved this off. "No need. We will not be staying long. And I would hate to put you at odds with Colonel Mongke," he added with a twitch of a smile. "He is not a flexible man, particularly when it comes to his mount."

"General Iroh!"

The voice came from inside the wall, and Iroh turned in time to see a middle-aged man in an officer's uniform striding over to them, the gate having swung open far enough to let him pass.

"Captain Wei," said Iroh as the other man bowed. "It has been some time."

"General," said Wei, straightening. "I apologize, I didn't mean to call you away from the front. I had only hoped you might send aid to-"

"You were of invaluable service to me at the battle of She Heliu, and for that I owe you a great deal more than this small favor. Besides, I had a hand in training Colonel Mongke when he was still a cadet, and he remains my responsibility as general of the eastern forces. It is no trouble at all, Captain." A quick smile. "Now. Where have the Rough Rhinos stationed themselves this afternoon?"

"The inn, sir. They prefer it to the barracks." Wei flinched. "Their last…excursion was several days ago. A village just over the next ridge. They've been celebrating ever since."

"I understand," said Iroh quietly. "Take me to them."

***

The Rough Rhinos were an unusual regiment, one of the many consequences of the ways in which Iroh and his brother did not see eye-to-eye. Mongke had moved in the same circles as Lieutenant Commander Zhao at the Academy, a connection that had encouraged the worst in each of them in Iroh's estimation. However, like Zhao, Mongke had excelled in every area the military valued, although he lacked his friend's ambition. Once he'd attained a sufficient rank to win the command of his own division, he had seemed content to enjoy the privileges available to a young Colonel.

Unfortunately, in Mongke's case that included making sport of peasants - particularly women, in a manner that Iroh still shuddered to think about. This broke no particular rule of the Fire Nation Army, and as a general Iroh had known he was expected to tolerate it. But as a man he could not, and he had stripped Mongke of his rank and all the "privileges" it afforded.

A week later, word of this had reached Prince Ozai, who had foregone a military career but far excelled his brother in the arena of politics. Iroh would never know precisely what had happened - whom Ozai had whispered to and what favors had been called - but by the end of the month, Colonel Mongke had been reinstated and given the command of a small, elite unite, ostensibly meant to safeguard the colonies from rebellions.

Although it had been easily within Iroh's abilities to correct this, and although his conscience had weighed greatly on him for allowing such a man to stay in any sort of power, he had seen no way of remedying the situation without embarrassing himself and making a spectacle of his family. To correct Ozai's interference he would have had to draw attention to it. So he had allowed Mongke and his "Rough Rhinos" to continue with their particular idea of duty, and returned his attention to the westward push toward Ba Sing, the excellent company of his officers and staff, and the continued education of his son.

Two years had passed since then. If Captain Wei was to be believed, they had been busy ones for Mongke.

The building Wei lead them to was more of a large house than a proper inn. Wei explained that one of the wealthier Earth Kingdom families, who'd lost all four of their their sons to the war and were too elderly to make their own living, now rented their spare rooms to the scattering of merchants and pilgrims who passed through this valley. Their daughter ran the business, and Wei's men dealt with the odd troublemakers.

They were hard-pressed, however, to deal with trouble that outranked them all. And once Captain Wei had pointed out the inn to Iroh and Jee, he bowed and hastily retreated to a safe distance, clear across the village square.

The entire company was seated around the inn's single table, the wreckage of a large dinner and a great deal of ale between them and their signature weapons propped against their chairs. Iroh remembered all the men who'd ever served with him, and the Rough Rhinos were no exception. Ogodei, Yeh Lu, Kahchi, Vachir and their colonel - once they'd stood around the cooking fire and sung war songs of their own creation, chronicling the exploits of the Dragon of the West and the men he commanded.

Today they watched him suspiciously over their cups, sparing Jee only contemptuous glances. Under the table, Kachi's hand gripped the shaft of his halberd.

Mongke scowled. "General Iroh."

"Colonel."

"I see you've brought your dog along with you."

Jee tensed beside him, but Iroh's voice was smooth when he spoke. "I suppose I should not be surprise to hear you mock another man's loyalty, given how you have occupied yourself in these mountains."

"We've wiped out a rebel camp and claimed several villages in the name of Fire Lord Azulon. All in the line of duty, and not of any consequence to you."

Inside the sleeves of his tunic, Iroh's hands tightened into fists. "Your 'duty' does not extend to slaughtering farmers."

Mongke leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "You have to burn a few houses if you want to be taken seriously. You know how these mud-slingers can be. If they had any sense they'd already be on our side. The rest are too stupid to understand anything but fire and their own blood."

"There is no excuse for the mistreatment of women and children. And no advantage in razing the fields that feed us as well as them."

"Somehow, I don't think Fire Lord Azulon would agree."

Iroh was now so angry that he could feel himself shaking, his fingernails pressing deep crescents into his palms. "My father would never wish for a colonel in his army to disobey a general."

"I don't think he'd wish for his general to be a softhearted, peasant-loving fool, either," said Mongke with a sneer, his men chuckling appreciatively into their cups. "I wonder which he'd find more fault with."

"I have allowed you to retain your commission against my better judgement. Do not tempt me to-"

"What? Court-marshal me?" Mongke chuckled. "I'm sure your brother would have something to say about-"

"Prince Ozai is not Fire Lord," Jee barked, apparently unable to stay silent any longer. "Nor is he your superior officer. His opinion is no concern of yours."

"History says otherwise." Mongke's smirk widened. "Doesn't it, General?"

Jee took a step forward, a curl of smoke rising from his fist, but Iroh held out an arm to stop him. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble when he spoke to Mongke again. "You will leave this village tomorrow to return to Xibei Province. You will continue your patrols of the colonial borders. You will no longer menace peaceful villages. If I discover that you have not followed these orders in full, no favors you have it in your power to call upon will be enough to save your position."

Iroh rested a friendly hand on Jee's shoulder, and although his tone lightened there was yet steel beneath it. "Come, Lieutenant. Perhaps Captain Wei can be convinced to invite us to tea. I am told that a particularly exquisite jasmine flower grows in these mountains."

Jee's nod was stiff but he didn't argue, and the two of them turned to walk out of the inn.

"Is that all, General?" Mongke's laugh was incredulous. "You didn't actually come all this way just to scold me, did you?"

Iroh paused in the doorway but did not turn. "I will tell the groom to have your mounts ready by dusk. I trust that will be enough time to prepare."

The afternoon sun was warm on his face as he stepped out into the village square, but he took no pleasure in it. The hard, icy lump had formed in his stomach again, which no amount of sunshine could thaw.

***

Captain Wei's tea was excellent, and the sitting room in his small apartment as pleasant as one could hope for from a military man so far afield. A vase of wild chrysanthemum sat in the corner, and the windows overlooked the kitchen garden his housekeeper maintained. But Iroh had difficulty savoring any of it. The tea's perfume held no charm for him, and his eyes looked past the garden to the forested hills that rose over the village wall, their dense canopy rippling in the breeze.

Iroh carefully placed his cup on the lacquered table. "Thank you for your hospitality, Captain. But I am afraid I must excuse myself. I have not yet surveyed the damage to the surrounding villages, and it is time that I began."

Jee frowned. "General, you can't be serious. It's nearly sunset, you won't be able to see anything in an hour."

"I can see what I need to by moonlight," said Iroh as he got to his feet. "And the night air is quite relaxing, don't you think?"

"Sir, Mongke's raids have attracted rebel soldiers to the area," said Wei anxiously. "It is not safe for you to wander the forest alone."

"Your concern is appreciated, Captain, but unnecessary," said Iroh, not unfriendly but not to be argued with, either. To Jee, he added, "Make certain the eel hounds are fed and watered before you retire. I will not be gone long."

Jee began to push himself back from the table. "Sir, perhaps I should come with-"

"It is only a walk, Jee." He flashed a tight smile. "And I promise you I will return from it."

Soon after, Iroh moved along the narrow village streets with a young fox cat as his only companion, the windows to either side tightly shuttered despite the pleasant evening air. The sunset painted stripes of orange and black across the plastered walls, buttery light and deep shadow unmarred by human figures. Iroh was saddened by this, but not surprised. The soldiers would have no desire to cross Mongke's path, and the Earth Kingdom villagers had every reason to fear the idle cruelty of his men.

Captain Wei had conducted a noble experiment, and its success suggested that the dream of benevolent rule might not be an impossible one. But the Rough Rhinos were a reminder of the truth - that this village was an anomaly, and one the current Fire Lord had little interest in encouraging. Wei had long downplayed his own role here, an occupier pretending at equality. But Mongke destroyed that illusion with every word he spoke and every village he burned, and no pretty words of cooperation and harmony could conceal the fact that Wei's soldiers were unwilling to pay the price of stopping him.

Iroh's father was an old man. Soon enough, his own reign would begin, and with it his chance to restore some measure of decency to the conduct of his armies. Iroh was not young himself, and had little hope of attaining real peace in his lifetime. But perhaps Lu Ten…

In these moments, he felt as if he'd walked into a solid wall of memory, the rush of recollection like a physical blow: a frantic search begun too late, nostrils and mouth and eyes caked with dirt, the sickening meat-smell of a funeral pyre.

Iroh paused mid-stride and covered his face with his hands, until the shuddering wave of grief had passed and he could breathe again.

***

The night was clear and the moon near-full, bathing the fields and the dam protecting them in its indifferent blue light. Iroh brought no lantern and his arms stayed at his sides. When he first stepped into the deep shadows beneath the leaves it was as if he'd entered a cave, cool and damp and secretive. The trees were naught but silhouettes against an indigo sky, scraps of starlight glimpsed between the branches. The moon's glow pooled on the forest floor, throwing all else into impenetrable darkness.

Wei had told him where the closest of the burnt villages lay - a mile to the east, over the ridge and down into the next valley. He walked because he could not bear to be still, and his mind was too clouded with bereavement to choose another path.

Iroh remembered, dimly, how furious he'd been with Mongke a few hours before; how the man's indifference to suffering and disregard for life had stoked flames of righteous anger in his heart. But that anger had abandoned him, now, and an ugly, buried part of himself was glad to see it gone. Why mourn a few dead peasants, when their armies had shown no mercy to him? Why bother with the ruins of an Earth Kingdom village, when the walls of their capital had cost him a son? They had taken Lu Ten from him. They had choked the life from his flesh and blood with their soil. He owed them neither pity nor compassion. He should burn this forest to the ground.

"No," he whispered. He stopped and held his hands out before him, the palms dappled by moonlight. "You have seen enough of death, old man."

A flash of white caught his eye, and he shifted his gaze to the mountainside once more to find a small, white creature in a shaft of luminance. A rabbit, sleek and still and unafraid. It looked up at him with unnerving scrutiny, its long ears swiveling to catch the night's whispers. He felt it could see through him, exposing those dark places that he preferred to forget.

He was the son of Azulon and the brother of Ozai, and for all his enlightened distain his hands were as bloodied as theirs. He could chastise Mongke all he liked, but in his heart he knew the fault for these mountains' tragedies lay at his own feet. The Rough Rhinos had all been talented, promising officers - if Iroh had been a better man, a better mentor, surely it would never have come to this. Surely he could have guided them onto a different path.

He had traveled all this way to mourn, but what use did Earth Kingdom dead have for his grief? He dishonored their spirits with belated concern, useless but for how it soothed his own guilt.

Iroh bowed, his eyes lowered. "Forgive me, swift one," he murmured. "I have intruded on your wood too long. I mean no disrespect."

When he straightened, the rabbit was gone.

But in the moments that followed, while his feet were still and his breath slow, a soft, living sound rose from the underbrush beside him. A human sound.

Iroh raised one hand, and a flame burst to life in the air above his palm.

A few short strides away, a boy crouched beside the trunk of a maple tree, half-hidden by the mulberry that grew between its roots. His hair was tangled with mud and twigs, and his wide, frightened eyes shone from a face streaked with soot. He stared at the fire in Iroh's hand, his mouth open as if to scream. But no sound came out, his body and his voice alike frozen in his terror.

Iroh closed his hand, snuffing the flame. Night-blind, he stood very still and spoke in soft, gentle tones. "Are you alone, child?" The boy didn't reply, and Iroh knelt slowly on the forest floor. "My name is Iroh. I would like to bring you with me, to keep you safe and give you something to eat."

He could hear the boy's quick, shallow breaths, and extended an open hand toward the sound. "I will not let them hurt you anymore."

Seconds passed. Then a much smaller hand took hold of his own, cold and rough with dirt. The boy's grip was fierce with loneliness and fear, enough so that Iroh's fingers were soon numb. But he didn't pull away, and they walked down the mountainside together, toward the pricks of lamplight in the valley below.

***

Jee was waiting beside the village gate, his iron hair gilded by the lamp that hung beside him. He watched with his arms folded over his chest as Iroh's silhouette crossed the fields. And he jerked into a straighter posture when that shadow resolved itself into two figures instead of one.

The boy hung back as they neared the gate, although his grip on Iroh's hand didn't loosen. Jee looked between the two of them, eyebrows arched and questioning. But for the moment, the demands of his station trumped his curiosity. He nodded to the boy, only a little awkwardly, then turned his attention to Iroh. "General, Colonel Mongke and his men left an hour ago. They weren't kind to the groomsmen but they didn't do any damage. Captain Wei sent a man to tail them until they've reached the border of Xibei Province."

"The inn is free, then?" asked Iroh.

"Yes, sir, but remember Wei offered his private rooms for you to use tonight-"

"Which I will happily retire to," said Iroh. He smiled down at the boy beside him. "But first, I believe my guest is in need of a good meal."

"Of…course…" said Jee. He eyed the boy with an air of somewhat anxious interest, then turned his inquiring gaze back to Iroh. When no further explanations presented themselves, he sighed a little wearily, signaled to the night watchman, then lead Iroh and his charge through the gate and toward the village square.

A lamp still burned in the main room of the inn, and when Jee rapped the door with his knuckles a woman's voice called out, "One moment!"

Soon after, a young girl opened the door for them, her hair in braids and a cotton robe tied over her night clothes. Behind her, a woman Iroh presumed to be the innkeeper was standing beside an upside-down chair, attempting to reposition a leg that had gotten knocked out of place. "I'm sorry, I'm still trying to get things in order again," she said. She banged the leg with the bottom of a heavy jug, then set the chair right-side-up again and smiled wearily at her guests. "Anything I can get for you?"

"A meal for this young man," said Iroh, indicating the boy who was still clutching at his hand. "And a pot of tea for the lieutenant and myself."

The innkeeper took in the boy's clothes and hair with a measured glance. "We have our own bath in the back," she said. "You're welcome to use if if you want to." She spoke directly to the boy, which Iroh appreciated, and which encouraged her daughter to come closer to get a better look.

"My name's Zengui," the girl told him solemnly. "I'm supposed to be in bed but I was helping my mom." The boy didn't reply, but his grip on Iroh relaxed somewhat. "What's your name? Why're there sticks in your hair?"

The innkeeper patted her daughter's shoulder. "He's had a long day, sweetheart," she said gently. "Why don't you show him where to sit while I get him something to eat?"

Zengui took the boy's free hand, and after one last squeeze he let go of Iroh and allowed himself to be led over to the table.

Iroh couldn't be certain how many days the boy had been left to wander alone in the forest, but he drank long, deep gulps of water and ate whatever was set in front of him. Zengui had seated herself at the table beside him, and his meal was accompanied by her unbroken stream of chatter - about her father, gone away to war, and the grandparents already asleep upstairs, and how she and her mother worked hard to manage it all. The boy never answered, but he watched her out of the corner of his eye as he ate, and that attention was apparently enough to satisfy her.

Across the table, Jee and Iroh held steaming cups of tea, sipping them meditatively while the innkeeper finished tidying the room. "Oh, you're the general!" she'd said when Iroh had introduced himself. "Captain Wei told me I have you to thank for getting rid of those asses, but I'm afraid they made a bit of a mess on the way out."

"They made a mess of things while they were here," Jee muttered now, soft enough that the children didn't notice.

"One that I am responsible for," said Iroh.

Jee frowned. "There are thousands of orphans in these forests, sir. You can't buy a hot meal for all of them."

"Perhaps not. But I can help this boy. It may not be much, when measured against the sorrows of the world. But to him, I can make some small difference."

"Are you sure that he's…" Jee lowered his voice even further. "Should we be looking for his parents?"

"Would you leave your child alone in the forest, Lieutenant?"

Jee flinched. "Perhaps…they've just been separated…"

"No," said Iroh. "He was not far from the village, and it has been several days. If any of his family had survived, they would have found him." Iroh looked down into his teacup, his shadowed reflection wavering on the surface. "Have you not noticed, Jee? There are no refugees in this village. I have not seem them camped in the fields, nor traveling on the roads." He shook his head. "No one is going to come for this child. He is mine to look after, now."

Jee sighed and drained his cup. "Well. He's old enough to be useful, at least. I'm sure the innkeeper would take him in if you asked her to, since her daughter seems to like him well enough. You could give her a stipend of some kind, it wouldn't have to be-"

"You misunderstand," said Iroh. "The boy will be coming with me."

"You're not serious."

"Completely."

Jee leaned in closer, his voice a harsh whisper. "Sir, I have done my best to be respectful of your rank and trust your judgement, but I'm beginning to wonder if you're in your right mind. I know you feel badly for these people, but they're Earth Kingdom peasants and they can take care of their own. And on top of that, you don't know anything about this boy! You don't even know his name!"

Across the table, the boy made a small, muffled sound through a mouthful of bread. As Iroh looked up at him, he swallowed and tried again. "Jet," he said quietly. He was looking at Lieutenant Jee.

"I'm sorry?" said Jee.

"My name," said the boy. "It's Jet."

He turned to Iroh, then, afraid but heartbreakingly hopeful. And as their gazes connected a deep, insistent pang swelled in Iroh's chest, one that sharpened into pain at the thought of what those wide, brown eyes had seen

"Where're we going?" the boy asked, a little wary.

"To my home," said Iroh. "In the Fire Nation."

"The men who…" Jet's expression darkened. "They were from the Fire Nation, too."

"I know," said Iroh. "And I am sorry that I was not here to stop them. But not all men from my country are so cruel, child. And I will be there to protect you.

"He's right," said Zengui, who had been listening curiously since Jet had first spoke. "Captain Wei's a Firebender and he's really nice. And he," she pointed at Iroh, "came here to get the Rough Rhinos to go away."

"Rhinos?" Jet murmured. There was now a hint of awe in how he stared at Iroh. "You got rid of them?"

"They did not belong here." Iroh smiled, slight and weary. "Perhaps none of us do."

Jet considered this, taking a contemplative bite of stew. "Do I have to go?"

"Of course not."

"Okay," said Jet. Another bite, chewed and swallowed, then, "But you're going."

"I have been away from home for far too long. These bones of mine ache for their own bed."

Jet nodded. "Then I'll go, too."

The innkeeper came to fetch him for his bath, then, and to take her own daughter to bed. Once Jet had been assured that Iroh would still be waiting when he was clean, he allowed himself to be lead away through the rear door of the room. Watching them go, Iroh couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to see his own wife and son together like this.

But there was little time for such musings. The moment the three of them were out of sight, Jee rounded on Iroh again. "General," he said with anxious urgency. "Surely you mean to return to the siege of Ba Sing Se before going home to the Fire Nation."

"I mean just what I said."

"It's been nearly six hundred days, you can't just-"

"We have no business here, Lieutenant," Iroh rumbled. "It is so simple a thing to speak of men like Mongke as the root of the world's evils, but in truth how different are we? We have both imposed our wills upon the people of this nation. We have both taken countless lives and turned our heads from suffering. My reasons may be different, yes, but what does that matter to the dead? My neglect was their undoing, as surely as the Rough Rhinos themselves. At least Mongke does not pretend at innocence."

Jee's brows knit, the lines around his mouth deep with concern. "General…I understand how you feel. I know how difficult these past weeks have been for you. But this isn't something you're going to be able explain away. Think about how this will look to the Fire Lord. Think about what you're brother will-"

"I cannot stay any longer, Jee," said Iroh, soft but unyielding. "You may reject my orders, if you wish. You may take up the task I have abandoned and lead our armies through the walls of Ba Sing Se. But you will do so without me, old friend."

Jee sighed and ran a hand down over his face, tugging at his beard. "I'm probably crazy," he said. "But I would follow you through much worse than this, sir."

Iroh reached out to pat Jee's shoulder. "I hope, for both of our sakes, that you never have to."

***

Jee was sent back to the front with a letter for each of Iroh's officers, explaining their new orders, thanking them for their loyal service, and promising that no dishonor would fall upon them for dereliction of duty. That shame would be bourn by the general alone, and alone he would face the Fire Lord's retribution, whatever it might prove to be.

Iroh himself wasn't entirely sure. His father was a great believer in Sozin's dream of Fire Nation greatness, and had spent his reign finishing off the last of the Southern Waterbenders and pressing further east across the Earth Kingdom plains. But Azulon was also a doting father, and Iroh his favorite son. He had never liked Ozai's unpredictable ruthlessness, and had sought to mold Iroh after his own, cool efficiency. Like Mongke, Ozai preferred to raze whatever inconvenienced him. But Iroh intuitively understood that a single flame, at the right place and time, could be of more use than a hundred Firebenders. In their father's mind, that made him the superior heir.

But Iroh spent little of his journey home worrying of such matters. His belongings would be crated and sent to the capital, along with those of his son - Jee would see to it that nothing was missed. The only arrangements he had to concern himself with were those of travel, and a general of his stature had little trouble booking passage for himself and his young companion on a supply ship headed for home. They steamed out of Xi Damen, the largest of the colonial harbors, less than four days after their paths had first crossed.

Iroh's decision to bring Jet home with him had, at first, been as much a matter of decency and obligation as anything else. The affection he'd felt was the same that any child would have elicited, trapped in such dire circumstances and so badly in need of kindness.

But that distant concern proved to be short-lived. A few days of sea air, hearty meals and free reign of the ship's labyrinthine corridors had a profound effect on Jet. Once guarded and quiet, during the voyage he unfolded into a friendly, curious boy of surprising intelligence and seemingly effortless charm. And a deeper, warmer fondness began to grow within the old dragon's heart.

The innkeeper's parents had given Jet several changes of clothes, saved from their own sons' childhoods and packed away in case of future brothers for Zengui. Perhaps because he knew they'd be out of the question in the capital, Jet insisted on wearing them while they were at sea, though Iroh had bought him several tunics in the Fire Nation style before they'd boarded.

Iroh had worried, at first, that this would attract unwanted attention from the officers and crew. But Jet had a knack for worming his way into people's good graces. He asked eager, insightful questions about the ship and how it operated, lingering in the engine room and galley and cargo bay and investigating them all with equal relish. When someone made a remark about dirt-eating, shaggy-haired peasants, Jet simply acted as if he hadn't heard them. Soon enough, the other sailors were coming to his defense, and by the time the Great Gates of Azulon came into view such "jokes" had been forgotten entirely.

Every night, Jet would climb into bed and tell Iroh what he'd done and seen that day. He had learned the name of every man on the ship, and his stories were rich with small details and surprising moments of insight. They talked for hours, until Jet was tired enough to lose the thread of his thoughts. Then Iroh would recite the ballads he'd learned when he was young, and watch as the low rumble of his voice soothed the boy to sleep.

But this peaceful interlude was only that - the space between two lives, short-lived by design. On the morning of the fifth day, they passed through the narrow stone gate of the inner harbor, the ship's lieutenant signaling to the harbormaster with the ball of flame in his hand. Iroh brought Jet up to the bow, and the two of them stood side-by-side and watched as smaller boats guided theirs into its slip.

Above the royal plaza and the sprawl of the harbor city loomed the smooth cone of a volcano. "That is the Fire Nation capital," said Iroh, pointing to what they could see of the caldera. "The volcano has been dormant for thousands of years, but rivers of lava still course through it. My family built their home here many generations ago, to be close to both sources of our power - the heat inside the earth, and the sun that shines above us."

"What's a volcano?" asked Jet, who had never so much as left his valley before.

"It is a mountain filled with fire," said Iroh. "The stone at its heart is so hot that it that flows like water."

Jet stared at the volcano's cone with naked awe. "That's where we're gonna live?"

"Yes."

"You have a house?"

"I have a residence in the palace."

"How big is it?"

Iroh chuckled. "Larger that it has to be, with only the two of us rattling around its halls."

Jet looked up at him. "So you don't have any kids."

"No," said Iroh softly. "I do not."

"That's too bad," said Jet, his attention now drawn to the dock workers ready to tie their ship in place.

"It is," said Iroh. He reached out to tousle Jet's hair, which the boy generously tolerated, then stood with his hand on Jet's shoulder as they watched the activity on the docks below.

He had little idea of what sort of reception awaited him; what familiar faces, if any, he would find at the end of the gangplank. A hawk from Ba Sing Se would have arrived several days ago, and he had made no secret of his travel arrangements in Xi Damen.

The Fire Lord rarely left the palace complex, but Ozai might very well have come to gloat over his brother's failure. Or perhaps Ursa would have brought her children to welcome him home. In the years since his own wife's death, Iroh and his sister-in-law had grown quite close, and he had always been particularly fond of her son.

Iroh had already packed their scant luggage for the servants to take to his home, and Jet had, as promised, changed into his new clothes and allowed his hair to be pulled into a rough but serviceable queue. They were among the first to disembark, and the docks were relatively clear as they descended the gangplank together.

Thus was Iroh afforded a perfect view of his welcome - his personal palanquin with four men to bear it, and the somber countenance of his butler.

"Zhongshi," said Iroh as soon as he was near enough. "It is good to see you." He gestured to the boy. "This young man is Jet. He will be our charge for the time being."

Zhongshi bowed curtly to Jet, barely enough to count toward decency, then said, "A great deal has happened in the last several days, your highness."

"Has Mongke complained to Ozai so quickly?" said Iroh, only half in jest.

"Your highness, I am sorry, but my news is both grave and essential for you to hear. I would urge you to return to your residence with me at once, so that I may inform you of all that has changed."

Iroh frowned. "If it is that important, I would prefer to speak to my father first."

Zhongshi had served Iroh's household for nearly thirty years. In all that time, Iroh had only seem the man noticeably disturbed on two occasions: when a fire broke out in the kitchen and nearly killed two of the maids; and upon Iroh's return from the Hu Sin provinces, when Zhongshi had given him both his infant son and the news of what had happened his wife.

Now he stared at a point in the center of Iroh's chest, his face pale and his lips a hard, thin line, and Iroh felt as if an Earthbender had opened the ground beneath him.

"What has happened?" he asked quietly.

Zhongshi lowered his gaze. "The Fire Lord has passed, your highness."

Iroh drew and exhaled a long, slow breath, his eyes closed as he searched for the calm in his heart. When he opened them again, he asked, "When is the coronation?"

"Yesterday, your highness."

***

Iroh's residence was a part of the palace complex, and lavish in a manner befitting the crown prince. He had moved into these rooms the day of his wedding, their furnishings and compliment of servants a gift from his father for the occasion. Lu Ten had been conceived and delivered here, and his wife had died in the room that became the nursery. It was still filled with the toys Lu Ten's childhood, the shelves covered in dust cloths. Iroh had wanted to turn it into a study for his son to use, when Lu Ten was a newly-minted officer, but Ursa had convinced him to leave It be. Lu Ten would have need for a nursery someday, after all, once he'd had a chance to settle.

Now Zhongshi hovered in the doorway as Iroh pulled the cloths down, folding them carefully to trap the dust inside and then handing them to Jet to stack beside the door. Jet did his job dutifully, but his eyes were drawn inexorably to the uncovered shelves, and he tripped several times over table-legs in his path.

"When we're done," he said to Iroh as he took another cloth, "Can I maybe play with some of these? Just a little," he added, as if unsure how far to push the issue.

"This will be your room," said Iroh. "You can play with anything you like, as much as you want to."

Jet stopped walking and hugged the folded cloth to his chest as he gazed hungrily around him. "My own room?" he said. "This is bigger than…" He stopped abruptly and went to add his burden to the pile, and Iroh sighed a little to himself. He would not force Jet to talk about what had happened. But he hoped the boy wouldn't try to keep it inside himself for too long.

Apparently, this was the break in conversation Zhongshi had been waiting for. "Your highness, I am very sorry to interrupt," he said quickly, "but another messenger has arrived from the throne room, and-"

"You may tell the Fire Lord that I am attending to urgent business," said Iroh cooly, "and will request an audience when I have finished. If he is so anxious to speak with me, he is welcome to come and join me for tea."

"Of course, your highness," said Zhongshi. He bowed and left the room, and Iroh grit his teeth as he waited for the moment of anger to pass. No amount of rage could change what had happened - to his father, to Ursa, to his crown or to his son. There was no point in indulging in it.

"Iroh?" He looked up, and saw that Jet was holding a wooden box in his hands, its lid set back on the shelf beside him. "What are these?"

Iroh's eyes widened in mock alarm. "You have never heard of Pai Sho?"

"Why, is it a game or something?"

"A game!" Iroh shook his head and clucked his tongue as he crossed the room. "Pai Sho is to other games as a hurricane is to a burp."

Jet held out the box for Iroh to take, although his expression was skeptical. "Is it fun?"

"I think it is."

"Will you teach me?"

"Of course."

Together they moved the toy ships that had been set atop the game board - a round wooden table with a grid carefully measured out its surface, and animals painted all along its sides. It had been a gift from Admiral Jeong Jeong for Lu Ten's thirteenth birthday, and Jet admired it eagerly as Iroh dragged it out into the center of the room.

Outlines of the ships had been left behind in the dust, and Iroh brushed it way with his sleeve. "I can teach you the rules in an hour," he said as he rifled through the box of tiles, selecting the standard foundation set and laying them out on the board. "But it will take some time for the true richness of its strategy to reveal itself to you."

Jet wrinkled his nose. "That sounds like a lot of work for a game…"

"Your highness?"

Iroh glanced over at the doorway, where Zhongshi was once again standing at respectful attention. "You have a guest," he continued once he was certain his master was listening.

Iroh sniffed. "Has my brother decided to honor us with his presence after all?"

"It is not the Fire Lord sir. It is your nephew."

"Ah!" Iroh got to his feet, his grin wide and honest. "Please, bring him in."

Moments later, he heard a child's running footsteps echo down the marble hallway. And when his nephew, Zuko - Prince Zuko, he reminded himself - appeared, out of breath and somewhat disheveled, Jet immediately got to his feet as well, clumsy in his eagerness.

Of course, thought Iroh. Jet had not seen a single other child since they'd left Zengui and her inn.

"Jet, this is my nephew, Zuko," said Iroh, gesturing to the other boy. "Zuko, this is Jet. He will be staying here with me from now on."

Zuko had always been a shy, sensitive boy, for whom Iroh held a great deal of affection. But there was a frightened, desperate quality to his expression, now, that Iroh had never seen before, all the more painful to regard for how little could be done to help.

"Zhongshi told me what happened," said Iroh gently. "I am very sorry, Nephew. Your mother was a singular woman, and she will be missed."

"Thanks," said Zuko in a small, soft voice.

"Iroh's teaching me how to play Pai Sho," said Jet, either oblivious to the painful moment or deliberately ignoring it.

"Oh," said Zuko.

"Do you know how to play? It sounds kind of hard…"

Zuko looked down at the board. "It's not bad," he said. "I'm not very good, though."

"You're better than me," Jet pointed out.

Zuko blinked. "Huh. Yeah, I guess so."

The three of them sat crosslegged around the board, and for some time Zuko watched mutely as Iroh explained the broad strokes of the game for Jet's benefit, playing both opponents himself and explaining his reasons for each move.

Beneath this amiable exterior, however, Iroh was keenly aware of his surroundings - that this was the childhood room of his lost son, filled with toys that had been gifts from his father, whose dying wish had been to strip him of his birthright. He never forgot, for even a moment, that both of these boys were orphans, one in fact and one in spirit; that he had abandoned his greatest military campaign and left his career in shambles; that it was absurd for them to be playing games in the face of all that had happened.

He turned to Jet, who chewed his thumbnail thoughtfully as he listened. The boy's hair, not quite long enough for a proper queue, was already escaping to hang haphazardly around his face, and he had undone the top fastening of his new, crimson tunic to make it looser around his neck. His skin, scrubbed clean and on the mend from a hundred small cuts and burns, glowed a healthy nut-brown in the afternoon sunlight.

Iroh thought back to one of his last conversations with Jee, in the dining room of the inn after Jet had been put to bed. "Are you sure about this?" Jee had asked with genuine worry. "Bringing him to the palace? At the mercy of those vultures at court? He's never going to pass as Fire Nation. He'll be an outsider all his life."

"Then we will be outsiders together," Iroh had replied.

In the present, Jet leaned forward to study the board more closely. "Wait, I don't get it," he said, pointing at the Lily tile that Iroh had just placed. "Doesn't that create a disharmony if it's so close to the Chrysanthemum?"

Zuko peered down at the tiles. "Yeah, but…" He took another tile from the box and placed it in the center of a formation. "See, when you put the wheel tile here, you can rotate these other ones like…see, like this."

"But isn't it in the way, now?"

"Kind of…but if you don't play it, that's just a space for the other guy to play a knotweed tile, and that'll kill all the harmonies you set up over here anyway. At least this way you still get your points, you know?"

"So then where should I put the Rhododendron?"

Iroh watched for some time as they bent over the Pai Sho table, Zuko patiently answering Jet's questions as he played through the rest of the teaching game Iroh had begun. Zuko had loved Lu Ten, regarding him as more of an older brother than a cousin, but Iroh had never seen him speak more than a handful of words to another boy his age. Zuko had never been one for making friends, although Ursa had insisted he would grow out of it one day.

"See, it's not really that bad," said Zuko once he'd placed the final tile and walked Jet through the scoring. "I'll bet you could play right now, if you wanted."

"I guess, but I don't see what the big deal is," said Jet. "Just put the right flower tiles next to each other and don't let the other guy mess you up. That's it, right?"

"That is the most basic strategy, yes," said Iroh, making the boys jump a little. He hadn't spoken in nearly an hour.

Jet looked dubious. "So what else is there?"

Iroh picked up the wheel tile, rolling it between his fingertips for a moment before he spoke. "The secret to mastering Pai Sho," he said, "is to learn to see more deeply than your opponent. It is easy to play entirely in the now - to place your tiles where they can help you quickly, and think only a handful of moves ahead. Against a weaker opponent, that strategy may work. But a master knows better than to be so impulsive. The more difficult task, by far, is to watch as your opponent passes you by, and learn to use their haste against them. A true master understands that another man's shortsightedness can only increase his own strength."

Jet considered this, his eyes still on the board. "So it's okay to let them hurt you now," he said quietly. "Because…then they won't see you coming later. When you're stronger than they are."

"Yes," said Iroh. "There is nothing weak about biding your time."

"Um…" Jet and Iroh looked at Zuko, who was twisting his fingers nervously in his lap. "Uncle Iroh, is Jet allowed to go outside?"

Jet's small body tensed with eagerness, and when Iroh said, "Of course," he jumped to his feet.

"Where?" asked Jet.

"My mom has…had a really nice garden. With turtleducks. You can feed them if you get some bread."

Jet whirled on Iroh again. "Can we get some bread?"

Iroh laughed. "Ask Zhongshi, he will find something for you in the kitchen."

"Can we borrow Lu Ten's ships, Uncle?"

"They belong to Jet, now. Ask him."

As the boys chose which of the model sailing ships they wanted to bring, and Zuko described, in great detail, which crafts in the Fire Navy they were based on and what ancient battles they'd fought, Iroh smiled quietly from beside the Pai Sho board.

***

The spirit world is closely tied to the mortal one, its eerie geography anchored to real forests, mountains and rivers. The guardians of the Earth Kingdom, with whom Iroh had plead for mercy, would have no connection to Fire Nation lands. His small, short life was no longer of their concern. The rabbit's keen eyes would not see him here.

But Iroh did not regard gratitude as a performance. Honor required no witness.

In the moonlit garden his sister-in-law had once tended, Iroh knelt beside the glass-smooth pond and touched his forehead to the ground. He bowed toward the eastern wall and the distant shore beyond it.

"I am not worthy," he whispered, his breath stirring the grass. "But I will try to be."

***



illustration by achtung_baby