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It was hardest at night, when in the dark Lu Ten drew a breath and could not hold it to fill his aching lungs.

In his dreams he spent years and years in the dark digging his way out of his own grave, choking on the sense memory of it. There was earth cramped underneath his tongue, pressed against his chest, lodged underneath broken and bleeding fingernails. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He was going the wrong way—

He woke with a cry, and lashed out with fire at the nearest solid object, hand outstretched into a claw. It took too long to return to his senses, and when he did it was to his father’s strong arms bearing him down to his pallet. Even in the dark Lu Ten could see how his father’s eyes shone with grief and fear.

 “You are safe, my son,” his father said, each word like a stone sunk into sea, “Breathe with me.”

Lu Ten’s first inhale was harsh and too desperate between them. His father clutched Lu Ten’s hand against his barrel chest and allowed Lu Ten to grip at his sleeping robes tight to the point of tearing. Lu Ten was dimly aware he was crying, tears dripping down the corners of his eyes and itching his ears. His father reached down to tenderly wipe them away, and the touch brought Lu Ten more to himself.

Lu Ten could not bring himself to feel ashamed. His father would never have let him. When Lu Ten felt ready to sit up, his father withdrew to the other side of the tent and retrieved his tea-making kit.

Lu Ten rubbed at his eyes and looked around to see what damage he might have caused unaware. Their tent was singed but otherwise unharmed, his father must have woken in time to scatter his wayward flames. His father’s corner of the tent already smelled of jasmine, calming and familiar.

It was a son’s duty to serve his father, but Lu Ten’s fingers trembled too much to hold even a quill. His father filled his cup halfway and did not mind that Lu Ten scalded his mouth to drink it too quickly, washing out the phantom taste of mud and war. His father re-filled his cup trice more, unasked.

His dreams were becoming more vivid, lingering behind his eyelids even after he woke. At first, they were senseless; an endless mute horror, muffled under glass. Now though, they were clearer, although no less terrible than they were before. Lu Ten had lingered too long in the realm of life and death, and the spirits were demanding to be repaid for their interference.

Finally Lu Ten spoke. His mind was clear at last, and there was no longer an excuse to stay silent on what he felt, what he knew.

 “Father,” he said, but his voice unused so long was scraped ugly, and he had to drink again. His father had frozen in place at the sound of his voice, so long unheard.

A deep surety emerged from his sorrow. Lu Ten took a breath, said, “We cannot go on like this.”

His words on its own were not treasonous. Nonetheless, his father was Crown Prince despite what censure might await him from the Fire Lord for abandoning Ba Sing Se.

But Lu Ten had almost died in a war he now saw as senseless and wrong, had sunk into his own coffin and survived. He met his father’s molten eyes and was not afraid.

 “This war is not right,” he said, “You know it as well as I. We are not bringing hope to savages, nor paving the way to a better world. I walked between this world and the next, and the spirits, the spirits, father, are angry at us. We have unbalanced the world.”

His father sucked in a pained breath. Lu Ten waited. It was easier to be honest in the dark with the phantom press of the earth lingering on his skin.

 “My beloved son,” His father said at last, and in the flickering candle-light Lu Ten’s heart clenched to see the man called Dragon of the West shaking, “I am an old fool, and deeply ashamed. I was blinded by power and conquest, and it almost cost me you.”

Lu Ten stared. He had prepared for an argument, for fury, disappointment. Not this soft acquiescence, crumbling like top soil loosening under rain.

 “This war must end,” Iroh said, steel in his voice, “I will not lose you again.”

Lu Ten rose with the sun and was surprised he had slept. He had wanted to pursue the conversation, the treason, his brain supplied helpfully, with his father but Iroh had forbade it.

In the dewy light of day, the night before felt like a dream. His father woke a moment later, looked at him, and then away. Silently they meditated, giving thanks to Agni for their guiding fire, settling their hearts and their inner flame.

In the distance, Lu Ten could hear the rest of the encampment preparing for the day, far enough to give the Crown Prince and his son their desired privacy. Iroh had even declined a security detail; such was the jealousy of a dragon over its young. 

Lu Ten served the morning meal tea this time, his hands steadier than it had been for weeks. His father chided him gently for over-brewing the leaves, but allowed Lu Ten to pour him another cup.

 “Come,” His father said after the meal remnants had been burned away, “Let us make a round of the camp.”

To do so would be the first since Lu Ten had been rescued. He almost declined. If his men pitied him, he did not want to see it. Worst, if he was scorned for weakness by those under his command.

He did not voice these concerns. He did not have to. He took a harsh breath under the weight of his father’s patient gaze, the man who had not raised him to be a coward.

Finally, Lu Ten bowed and rose to follow. One day he would be Crown Prince. Perhaps he should start acting like it.

His father’s headpiece was absent today, the crown tucked away in their belongings. Nevertheless, each man and woman in the camp knew his father’s greying head and golden eyes, standing straighter and bowing as he and his father passed. There was no murmuring in the ranks as they passed, their troops were too disciplined for that, and there was no disdain in the eyes that lingered on Lu Ten’s back when he passed.

As they moved through the different sections of the encampment, Lu Ten felt himself loosen bit by bit. His father cast him a knowing look, and Lu Ten bumped his father’s shoulder companionably. There was no need for the old man to be so smug after all.

The Commander, a man named Jee who had served with his father in Ba Sing Se, met them at the southern perimeter. Jee was the kind of man who greyed gracefully, handsome in a square way, and full of a secret good humour. He had a reputation for being fearsome in battle, but anyone in his command could see that he truly cared for his men.

Jee looked mildly surprised to see Lu Ten out and about, and the grin Jee spared him put Lu Ten further at ease. 

Lu Ten listened with half an ear as Jee relayed his updates on the camp. The army was in a state of limbo, close enough to Ba Sing Se that they could, at least, nominally resume the siege. Lu Ten glanced at his father to divine his thoughts, but Iroh’s face gave nothing away.

 “The camp wishes to know your orders, my lord,” Jee said, “How are we to proceed?”

 “As always, until further instruction.” His father said, “How are the recruit training and drills proceeding?”

 “The young men and women are doing well, sir,” Jee said, “The training officer reported that they are honoured to have the time to enhance their skills.”

 “Really?” Iroh said, lifting an eyebrow, a bit of warmth and mischief on that rumpled yet still handsome face. “And what do you think?” Jee grinned in response.

 “They’re bored out of their mind sir, and wouldn’t mind a chance to set something on fire.” Jee amended, earning a chuckle from the Crown Prince, “But honestly, I think they’re grateful for the respite.”

 “Peace is good for the soul,” his father said quietly. Lu Ten almost stared as his father in shock, but managed to school his expression in time. He looked closer at Jee and found his reaction to be the same. Perhaps their conversation last night was not the first that Iroh’s thoughts had strayed along the same line.

 “And my lord,” Jee said, breaking the weird tension with a formal nod at Lu Ten, “You are well?”

 “A little better,” Lu Ten said truthfully, “I am grateful to have my father with me. I have a lot to thank you and my father’s army for.”

 “Think nothing of it,” Jee said, “We’re just thankful for your safe return.”

 “Where are my men camped?” Lu Ten asked, struck suddenly by the longing to be among them again, “They’re not getting into any trouble, are they?”

 “Not more than usual,” Jee said, his lip quirking like he was hiding a laugh, “Please go and see them when you can, so they can stop pestering me for updates every day.”

Lu Ten swallowed around the swell of emotion that rose in his chest. His father and Jee continued talking around him as he took a second to compose himself.

 “Of course,” Iroh said, when Lu Ten pounced on a break in Jee’s report to say he wanted to check in on his men, “There is a formal status report in the main tent at midday that I hope you will join us for.”

 “I’ll be there,” Lu Ten promised, and took his leave.

His father’s army was much larger than his own smaller concentrated command, but the combination made their size ridiculous.

Lu Ten picked his way to the north-east edge where Jee said his men was camped, and made a note to talk to his father about better camp practices. Notably one where he wasn’t tripping over forgotten archery gear left by some trainee who didn’t know any better. He was muttering curses as he gingerly tried to free himself from errant bow-strings when a shadow fell over him.

 “Look who finally dragged himself out of bed.” Rou said from above him. Lu Ten was already grinning as he squinted up at the other firebender, grabbing Rou’s large arm to be pulled to standing.

 “I hear you guys missed me.” Lu Ten said, squeezing Rou’s forearm before letting go to drink in the sight of Rou’s giant frame. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed humans other than his father until his second in command was standing before him.

 “Na, a bunch of us have a pool goin’ on when you’d come back,” Rou said easily, “You know how the guys get when their drinking money’s on the line. Sir.” Rou said belatedly.

Lu Ten laughed, feeling more like himself than he had in weeks.

 “Is it too late to get in on that action?” Lu Ten asked a little wickedly. Rou lifted his eyebrows and gave him an assessing look, a smile tucked into the corner of his expansive mouth.

 “I’d say yes, but the whole camp’s gonna know you’re here by midday.” Rou said, huffing a laugh.

Rou wasn’t kidding about the pool. Lu Ten’s presence at the slice of camp his men had carved for themselves was greeted with a mixed amount of groaning and subtle fist-pumping. He let himself be bullied into a place by the fire, and was served a bowl of something hot and fragrant with herbs as he was joined by his squad leads; those closest to him.

 “Tien Ho here is a secret fishing genius,” Rou smirked, pointing his chopsticks at the slim man across the circle, “The bastard doesn’t even get wet, I don’t know how he does it.”

Tien Ho gave Rou a dirty look, and batted Rou’s chopsticks away, “It’s called not being a blundering idiot and scaring away the fish.”

Lu Ten laughed and set his bowl down, taking a moment to look at the men and women sprawled around him, people he trusted with his life.

His fears that morning of being shunned and rejected for weakness seemed ridiculous in the light of day. These were the people who stood with him, fought with him, for six hundred days. He’d broken bread with them, bent his flame for them, was willing, if it came to it, to die for them.

 “You okay sir?” Karin, the leader of his archery squad, asked quietly as she came around to take his bowl. He turned to give her a reassuring smile. 

 “Better.” Lu Ten said honestly, and was rewarded with a smile and a brief incline of Karin’s head. He pulled in a breath that was only a little shaky, and got to his feet.

 “My father is expecting me,” Lu Ten said, jerking his head towards the direction of the main tent, “It was good to see all of you. I expect I’ll be back with news on how we’re meant to proceed from here.”

 “I’ll walk with you,” Rou said, passing his bowl to a scowling Tien Ho and heaving himself to standing too, “I know a shortcut.”

 “Like hell you do,” Tien Ho snorted, “You just don’t want to do your own dishes.”

 “Come on sir, light’s a-wasting.” Rou said brightly in lieu of an answer, throwing a wink down at Tien Ho as they left to a chorus of goodbyes.

 “Glad to see you and Tien Ho are getting along as well as ever,” Lu Ten said wryly as they headed deeper into the camp, “You really like winding him up, huh?”

 “Prissy bastard needs it,” Rou said, shrugging, “He’s too uptight. I’m preventing him from giving himself a stress ulcer.”

 “By giving him an ulcer yourself?” Lu Ten laughed, “Alright, Rou, spit it out. We both know there’s no shortcut.”

Rou sighed gustily, rubbing the nape of his neck, “It’s not really something I want to talk about in public.” He said lowly, jerking his head at the soldiers they passed.

 “This evening, then. I’ll stop by before we return to our camp.” Lu Ten offered, trying to tamp down the curling trepidation swirling in his gut. Rou nodded, his eyes going hooded briefly by some unreadable emotion, before he returned to joking with Lu Ten the rest of the way back.

Lu Ten had steeled himself for a long boring afternoon, but after the second hour of droning reports he was ready to set something on fire if just to have something else to talk about.

And, fine, this was partly Lu Ten’s fault. His father’s Generals finally had Iroh for more than a brief snatch of time away from Lu Ten’s bedside, and they were taking full advantage of it.

There was a formal status report to sit through, still, and a supply meeting. Lu Ten was tempted to persuade his father to blow them off so they could speak in private like Lu Ten was itching to do. But they could not end the war in an afternoon, no matter what Lu Ten’s convictions were or his father’s, and so Lu Ten resigned himself to fidget his way through the rest of the day.

The supply meeting was drawing to a close when one of the guards poked his head in gingerly.

 “Um, sir?” The guard said, looking intensely uncomfortable to be in the presence of so many high-ranking officers.

 “What is it?” Jee demanded.

 “We received a messenger hawk from the Caldera,” The guard said, straightening a little at Jee’s tone, “A missive for Prince Iroh from the Lady Ursa.”

 “You interrupt our meeting to deliver a personal item?” Jee said incredulously. The guard gulped visibly at being addressed and bowed. He seemed only just old enough to be at the front lines, the sparse hair on his spotted chin barely a scruff. He bowed awkwardly, clutching a scroll in his hands.

 “It bears the seal of the Fire Lord, sir.” The guard replied, shrinking into himself slightly. At this the surrounding generals turned to each other, murmuring. Lu Ten looked for his father’s reaction, but Iroh was already beckoning the guard forward.

 “Be at ease,” Iroh said, “I thank you for your prudence.” The guard bowed again, seemingly overcome, and Iroh received the scroll.

Iroh’s face gave nothing away as he read it once, and then twice. He put down the scroll after a few tense moments and looked at every man and woman in the tent. What he said next made Lu Ten’s blood feel like ice in his veins.

 “My father, Fire Lord Azulon is dead.”

Unthinkingly, Lu Ten reached over to grasp his father by the shoulder. At the touch, his father bowed his head, took an audible breath, and raised tearless eyes to meet Jee’s.

 “My brother has assumed the throne in my absence.” Iroh said steadily, “Ready the camp, we sail home at once.”

 “Uncle Ozai has what?” Lu Ten hissed furiously when he got his father alone.

 “It was no secret that he sought the throne,” His father said grimly, “Word of my withdrawal from Ba Sing Se must have affected my father beyond my imagination that my brother could assume power like this.”

 “But you are Crown Prince!” Lu Ten said in disbelief, “He can’t—”

 “He has.” Iroh said, and turned his head pointedly. Jee was striding towards them, and he was a man his father trusted above all else, but despite that, it was not the time and place to have such conversations. Lu Ten sighed in aggravation but kept his mouth shut as Jee came closer to earshot.

 “What news?” Iroh said.

 “We have the resources to launch a staggered return at your command, my lord,” Jee said, “The last of the foot soldiers will be returned within the month of your homecoming.”

 “I see,” Iroh said, looking troubled.

 “It is the only way for us to arm ourselves before we land,” Jee said, “The generals agreed that it was more essential to have our weapons arrive before the men. It will be the main camp, then the armored vehicles, the specialized units, and then the foot soldiers.”

 “No.” Iroh said.

 “Sir?”

 “That is unacceptable,” Iroh said, “We cannot leave our men behind without resources on foreign ground.”

Jee looked nonplussed at this, but not as shocked as Lu Ten might have thought with his plan derailed, “The generals will not like it.”

 “I will not leave any man loyal to our nation to die for my pride,” Iroh said, simply, like there was no other option, “We sail with them, and leave enough men to load the artillery. This is a fight between men not our machines. I will not invite my brother in a fight that would lay waste to our nation.”

 “Sir,” Jee said neutrally, but Lu Ten could see the smile in his eyes, “What should I tell the generals?”

 “That the pride of our nation is in our fire, not our steel,” Iroh said, “And that I trust in the intelligence and bending of our people, and hold it in its highest regard.”

 “Laying it on a bit thick?” Lu Ten piped in, trying not to let on how starstruck he was by dad at that moment. Dragon of the West indeed.

 “Thick sentiments for thick heads,” Jee said, smiling ruefully, “Very well, I will make the arrangements.”

 “My gratitude,” Iroh said, and let some warmth back into his face, “And of my father: how far has the news spread?”

 “It has not, my lord,” Jee said, “The generals are loyal to you and your son, we have sworn on our honour to keep silent at your discretion.”

A tension Lu Ten hadn’t realized he’d borne loosened. These were the men had fought with him and were willing to die for him. Apparently, that had not changed.

 “My thanks,” His father said, “Please relay also that this loyalty will not be forgotten.”

 “Of course, my lord.” Jee inclined his head, “Do you require anything else?”

 “One final thing,” Iroh said, “I need a small unit assembled, do you have two or three in your unit that you trust wholly?”

 “Yes, my lord, with my life,” Jee said, “Lieutenant Terashi, Yun, and Ming Soon.”

 “I remember them,” Iroh said, smiling despite the somber circumstances, “Lu Ten, you would like Miss Terashi, she could probably drink you under the table.”

Lu Ten resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The only thing his father liked almost as much as tea was the opportunity to play matchmaker.

 “I’ll keep that in mind,” Lu Ten said dryly.

 “We will need a scouting unit that can go ahead of us.” Iroh said, turning back to Jee, “Inform them of the current situation, and that danger may come from our own. It is unlikely that my brother will attack us on our return, but these are unpredictable times.”

 “Of course,” Jee said, “Lieutenant Terashi should contact you once we’ve received word from our people at the closest port. She may have news as soon as tonight.”

 “We’ll await her news, then,” Iroh said, “Inform the generals to prepare the men for a swift retreat, and send a representative from each unit to the main camp at dawn.”

Lu Ten had wanted to sail that very evening, his spirit darkened with unease, but his father had decided to address the people first. They were still on enemy ground, and so only a select number of unit members from each troop would be summoned and entrusted to relay the news. Lu Ten had requested, and been granted, leave to speak to his own unit.

It was strange to come to his unit’s part of the camp and find it almost all packed up. Just yesterday it had been brimming with life, and now it was almost as if no one had ever settled there.

He spotted Tien Ho right away, directing the packing efforts of the rest of the squad. Lu Ten was almost loath to interrupt, but he couldn’t see Rou anywhere. He strode up to Tien Ho’s side and waited until Tien Ho’s eyes slid to him, then waved.

 “Yes?” Tien Ho said, as if Lu Ten’s presence was not only unsurprising, but slightly unwelcome. Despite the dire circumstances and recent events, Lu Ten couldn’t help the grin pulling at his face.

 “Sorry to disturb,” Lu Ten said, and wished he’d come back to his unit sooner, because he’d missed this, “I’m looking for my second in command. Large guy, can’t miss him.”

 “Well, as you can see, there’s work to be done,” Tien Ho said dryly, “The answer is probably: not close by.”

 “Great,” Lu Ten said, scanning the camp again as if Rou could be conjured by wishing alone, “So you don’t have a clue where he’d be?”

Tien Ho sighed, aggrieved in that endearingly neurotic way of his, “He might have said something about the water? I wasn’t listening.”

Lu Ten decided not to point out that Tien Ho definitely had been, “Need any help?” He said instead, even though it seemed like things were well in hand.

 “Just go,” Tien Ho said, “If he’s by the water, he’ll be along the north end. Just follow the current until you see our unit markers.”

It was through this that Lu Ten finally found Rou sat by the riverbank, a fishing cord wrapped around his thick fingers. Rou sighed loudly when he noticed Lu Ten making his way toward him, but made space on his rock so that Lu Ten could sit.

 “You gonna tell us what going on, sir?” Rou said, tugging the cord gently as the river rushed by. There was no one around, and the sound of the water would carry over their words, but Lu Ten pitched his voice low and let the events of the day before spill out.

 “I’m sorry,” Rou said.

 “What for?” Lu Ten said, surprised by the reaction.

 “About your grandfather,” Rou said, looking steadily at him, “That’s hard news to take.”

His grandfather, right. Lu Ten looked away and out towards the water, a hard lump gathering in his throat. He hadn’t had time to really think of it, more focused on the journey home and whatever awaited them at the end of it. But it was true. Azulon had been Fire Lord to his people, and cruel to his conquered, and held a reputation of being a hard and brutal man. But he’d also loved his grandchildren in his own way, with gifts and money and stories of his glory days.

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about, the other night?” Lu Ten said, because he didn’t want to talk about his grandfather.

Rou darted a glance around them. They were alone, and Lu Ten realized Rou had picked this meeting spot so that the river would drown out their voices. Whatever it was, it was serious.

 “I think there’s a spy in the camp,” Rou said, voice pitched so low Lu Ten had to strain to hear it, “I caught a soldier with the main camp uniform hanging around ours before you came back to see us. He said he was doing a routine check, but when I asked for his credentials and a letter from Commander Jee, he scurried away real quick. The other week, Karin said she thought she was being followed when she and the other women went to bathe, but she thought it was just some pervert. Then Tien Ho caught the fucker hanging about the cooking tent when no one was around, and almost got him but he slipped away, but not without giving Tien a wicked burn on his arm. We haven’t seen him since.”

Rou’s darkening expression spoke loudly on what he’d do if he saw the spy again. Lu Ten made a note to check on Tien Ho the next time he saw the other man. He hadn’t noticed anything earlier, but then he hadn’t known to look.

 “Have you told anyone?” Lu Ten said urgently, a few things clicking into place. If Ozai had slipped a spy into their camp, that would make a lot of sense how he could have moved so quickly.

 “Just you sir,” Rou said quietly, “Forgive me if I was wrong in this, but this was a Fire Nation man, and I don’t know why the interest in our side of the camp specifically, but I could guess.”

 “I’m grateful for your discretion,” Lu Ten said, mind racing, “You were right to bring it to me.”

 “This has something to do with what’s going on, doesn’t it?” Rou said quietly, “You know that we stand with you.”

 “I do,” Lu Ten said, scrubbing the heel of his hand over his face, “Spirits know I do. Don’t do anything rash, and if you see that man again don’t engage.”

 “I mean it,” Lu Ten said, when Rou remained silent, “I know you’re mad. I’m mad too. But we can’t get to the source without whoever this is. Can you give me a description?”

 “Not really,” Rou said, “He was all decked out in uniform, helmet and everything. He had a village accent, but I’m gonna assume it was fake. Tien Ho said he was on the short side, and definitely a firebender. I’d bet he was a soldier too, or at least he knew enough to come in and out undetected. We only realized he was outta place because we know everyone in our camp well enough.”

It was true. Lu Ten made it a point to recognize names and faces, and his squad leads followed suit. It was difficult to look his men and women in the eye and know that some of them would not make it back to Fire Nation soil alive, but he would not allow himself to be the kind of prince who sent nameless men to die for him in droves. Lu Ten knew this was considered among certain Generals as a sign of Lu Ten’s soft heart, his weak spirit. But, honestly, fuck them.

 “Alright,” Lu Ten said, breaking himself out of his thoughts, “We have to move out soon, and if we keep waiting on you to catch anything we’ll starve before we reach the Caldera.”

Lu Ten reached out for a fishing cord, and Rou gave him a half-hearted scowl before handing one over to him.

 “Don’t you have somewhere important you have to be instead?” Rou grumbled, but it was fond, and Lu Ten felt the tension fizz away like Fire Nation spark candy.

 “Nope.” Lu Ten said warmly, and cast a line.

It would be their final night on Earth Kingdom soil, and Lu Ten broached the subject of the isolation of their two-person camp.

 “Having you stay in the main camp tonight would be better, strategically,” Lu Ten said, staring into their campfire, feeling his inner flame flicker joyfully in its dance, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

 “Of that, I have no doubt,” Iroh said, his voice gentle in the coolness of the night, “But I hope you will indulge an old man a moment longer. There will be time enough to be with the men when we reach Fire Nation soil.”

There was a quiet rustle in the bushes, and then the rhythmic thrills and coos that signified Terashi’s presence. Lu Ten relaxed from his bending stance, and saw his father do the same.

 “You may approach, Lieutenant Terashi.” Iroh said warmly.

Terashi stepped out of the shadows, dressed in simple blacks, and bowed low, “Excuse my disturbance, my lords. I bring news from the capital.”

 “At ease, Lieutenant. Come and sit by the fire.” Iroh said, and gestured innocently to the seat next to Lu Ten, like the wily old troublemaker he was.

Lu Ten had to admit, even if not his type, Lieutenant Terashi was a handsome woman. She was small and compact, eyes a burnt umber, her dark hair cropped close to her skull; made for subterfuge and good at it. She was Lu Ten’s age, or slightly younger, and his father placed her skills in covert operations at the highest regard.

Terashi sat and accepted the cup of tea Iroh produced seemingly out of thin air. If she was discomfited being served by the Crown Prince, she did not show it, such was the love and regard with which Iroh made a habit of treating those who served him.

 “What news, Lieutenant?” Lu Ten asked, his skin tight with worry and sick anticipation.

 “It is not good, my lord,” Terashi said, cradling the fragile ceramic in her long rough hands, “The capital trembles in your brother’s rule. He has already lowered the drafting age, and boys are being forced out of their towns and villages. Our retreat from Ba Sing Se has been condemned as an act of cowardice, and it seems the noble classes are with him, or at least appear to be so.”

Terashi paused. She seemed a woman made of fire and steel. To see her hesitate struck a chord of fear in Lu Ten that her news thus far had not. He could feel his heart pound in his ears.

 “There are rumours that your father’s death was not natural.” Terashi said in a low voice, as if the words hurt to say, “The lady Ursa has disappeared.”

Terashi did not flinch when the campfire blazed suddenly, filling their area with a violent burst light. Lu Ten clenched his fist, fought within himself until the fire calmed down into its original size, although the flames jerked in response to the helpless fury in Lu Ten’s inner flame.

 “Apologies, father. Lieutenant.” Lu Ten said when he trusted himself to speak. He turned to his father and saw only cold anger in his father’s face, all traces of warmth and kindness wiped away.

 “And my cousins,” Lu Ten said, his mouth dry as the Si Wong desert, “What news of them?”

 “None, my lord,” Terashi said, “Your uncle has not yet named his heir. His own coronation was too swift.”

It was neither good news nor bad. At least they still lived, Lu Ten told himself. Ozai was not a kind man, but he was still a father, no matter how cold or distant. 

 “I see,” Iroh said finally, and in his face gilded in flame Lu Ten could not see his beloved father but only the Fire Lord he was meant to be, “I had thought we could return in peace, but I see now the time for negotiations has passed. I will give the men the option to return to the Fire Nation as citizens. I have no wish to make unwilling traitors of any of them.”

 “As you wish, sir,” Terashi said, setting down her cup, “May I speak freely?”

 “Of course, Lieutenant,” His father said, a little warmth returning to his face.  

 “I believe that your men will stand with you, whatever you decide,” Terashi said, and then inclined her head at Lu Ten, “And yours too, your highness. We served with both of you at Ba Sing Se, and we know that your brother would never treat us as fairly, or as just. It is our greatest honour to serve under you.”

 “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Iroh said gravely, “I believe, truly, that the honour is mine.”

 “And mine.” Lu Ten said.

She spared them both a rare smile, showing a little glint of teeth that promised hail and hellfire. His father was right, Lu Ten thought, if they somehow managed to make it out of this okay he was definitely buying her a drink.

She melted back into the forest at Iroh’s dismissal, promising to give Jee the same report. Lu Ten dropped his head into his hands and exhaled steam onto the grass. He felt his father move to take Terashi’s vacated seat, and his father’s hand was a heavy comfort on the nape of his neck.

 “From one war to another,” Iroh said tiredly. Lu Ten raised his head to see his father’s eyes shining with quiet emotion, gazing towards the direction of the capital.

 “Rou said he found a spy in my camp,” Lu Ten said, folding his hands tightly together, “A Fire Nation man.”

 “Ah,” His father said, gaze troubled, “And so we either suspect a traitor in my camp, or that Ozai’s deception runs much deeper and more twisted than we had thought.”

 “Which would be worse?” Lu Ten asked, turning his palms up, feeling helpless. Iroh sighed, bringing Lu Ten’s head down to press their foreheads together briefly in comfort.

“I am sorry, my son. I wished for peace for you.”

 “There will be time for peace yet,” Lu Ten said, leaning into his father’s solidness like he was a child again and thought his father infallible. A thought came, unbidden to his head, and he could not dispel it.

 “What is it?” Iroh said, “Speak, my son.”

 “Only that perhaps…perhaps it was my failure at Ba Sing Se that caused this,” Lu Ten said, and didn’t know how long he had held this fear in his breast until he gave it a voice, “Would Uncle be so bold to take power if you had not broken the siege to come to me?”

 “Perhaps not,” Iroh said, and Lu Ten winced a little at his father’s honesty although he had braced for it, “But he was always a rat-viper in the grass. I see now that he was always watching for his moment to strike.”

 “And grandfather’s death?” Lu Ten said, also it hurt to think about, to say aloud. Iroh closed his eyes, pain written across the lines of his face, “And the Lady Ursa: why would she send us the missive if she caused it?”

 “I do not know, my son,” Iroh said lowly, “The lady Ursa is a gentle creature, and not given to malice. It would be dire circumstances indeed, to force her hand so.”

Lu Ten thought of his little cousins and his heart seized in fear. He wanted to saddle his ostrich-horse and ride to the capital, fuck the darkness and fuck the camp. It was only his father’s solid hand that kept him in place, and the sinking certainty that the worst was yet to come.

The spirits allowed Lu Ten a dreamless sleep that night, short as it was. He rose, too restless to meditate, and his father did not comment when he chose to strike the camp instead of taking his morning tea. His stomach felt too tight for food.

He joined his father as Iroh took his place in the main tent. The men and women representing their units stood at attention, the air thick with tension. Lu Ten had outgrown his father in height years ago, but in that moment, he knew he stood next to a dragon, and his heart trembled in his breast in awe. In the hush, Iroh spoke.

 “You have known me and fought for me for many summers and many moons. Together we held Ba Sing Se six hundred days. We fought together, broke bread and bled together. Each and every one of you have served me with more loyalty and bravery than has been asked of you, and you have my love and my loyalty in turn. There is nothing I would ask of you that I would not first do. You have trusted me to lead you in the best interest of our nation, and it is now, in the hour of our nation’s greatest need, that I would ask you to do so again.”

His father paused to let his words sink in. Lu Ten’s gaze swept across the assembled troops, and was heartened at the grave, unwavering expression of the faces of the men and women in armor gathered before them. At his side, his father inclined his head.

 “My father, your Fire Lord, has died.” His father said. There was a quiet ripple amongst the representatives, which settled at his father’s next words, “My brother has taken the throne. I do not know how or why, only that it is Ozai who wears the crown. I know my own brother, and he is ruthless and cruel. I cannot allow such a man to lead our nation. I cannot allow him to lead you.”

 “However,” Iroh said heavily, “You may tell your units that I will not prevent any man or woman from following their own path. Should you wish to join my brother who has claimed the title of your Fire Lord, you will be allowed to leave in peace. For those who stay, the journey onward will be hard. I will ask you to take arms against your brothers, your sisters, your friends.”

There was more to his father’s speech, but Lu Ten heard very little of it. He tried to divine the thoughts of the gathered soldiers from their faces; to untangle his own thoughts and clear his mind for the journey ahead, and the inevitability of civil war.

He sought out his own people, and met Rou’s eyes. The other man gave him a nod, and then, like he couldn’t help himself, a small wry grin pulled up the corners of his mouth. Rou leaned over to mutter something to Tien Ho who was stood at his side, and Lu Ten could see the slender man roll his eyes before throwing Lu Ten a smirk and a small thumbs-up.

 “Hell of a speech,” Rou said, flanked by Tien Ho and Karin, as Lu Ten made his way to them. Iroh had requested the representatives return to their units and report before the main camp set out. It was clear the generals were not all happy about the choice being given to the troops, but it was Iroh’s wish and that still held sway among them.

 “Had to be,” Lu Ten said wryly. He turned to Tien Ho and caught the edge of a bandage peeking out of his sleeve, something he would have missed if he hadn’t known to look. “You okay?”

Tien Ho shrugged, “Training accident, it happens.” He said, and Lu Ten inclined his head. They did not yet know who was listening or why, but it was a good call to make it look like Lu Ten was still in the dark.

 “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Lu Ten said lightly. Tien Ho cast him an unimpressed look but nodded.

 “So what happens now?” Rou said, “From what I’ve been told, our unit is being reallocated and absorbed into your father’s forces.”

 “Well, it was nice knowing all of you.” Tien Ho said with a sardonic little shrug, “What?” He said to Rou’s betrayed pout, “It’s not like we can help where we’ll be placed.

 “About that,” Lu Ten interjected, “Rou, I’m going to recommend you to take a spot at my father’s war counsel,” A little bubble of satisfaction twitched at his lips when he was rewarded with a shocked look from the other man, “It’ll be good to have a representative from my camp there, who knows the men and how to allocate them.

 “Close your mouth, you buffoon.” Tien Ho said, and Lu Ten smiled quietly at the fondness that leaked into Tien Ho’s tone. Rou raised his eyebrows and pointedly tapped his thumb under his chin, teeth clacking audibly as his jaw closed.

 “It’s a promotion, not a raise.” Lu Ten warned with a small smirk, “I wasn’t about to let dad just poach all my squad leads without putting up a fight.”

 “Some promotion,” Rou said, his chuckle a little disbelieving, “They’re gonna eat me alive, you know that, sir?”

 “Don’t be an idiot, you’ll be fine,” Tien Ho said, folding his arms, “Just try not to cuss anyone out by the first meeting.”

 “No promises,” Rou said, then looked at Lu Ten, considering, “So I’ve got a shiny new job, what’s the rest going to be doing?”

 “Karin will lead one of the archer units,” Lu Ten said, “And the rest will be given similar command according to their speciality. Well, except Tien Ho.”

Tien Ho raised an eyebrow.

 “No.” Rou said.

 “Yes.” Tien Ho said at the same time, and glared up at the other man. Lu Ten sighed.

 “Look, we both know that Tien Ho’s…training accident…makes him the perfect person for this job. It’s nothing he can’t handle, and him being out of the camp gives us an advantage. You know that.”

Rou looked like he was going to pop a vein, his jaw was clenched so hard. Tien Ho gave him an exasperated look.

 “I don’t know if this has slipped your notice, but we’re soldiers. In wartime.” Tien Ho said, as if talking to a slow child, “It’s what we signed up for.”

 “And he won’t be alone,” Lu Ten interjected before Rou could say whatever he was building himself up to, “There’s someone I’d like you guys to meet.”

Terashi gave Tien Ho a critical once over, shrugged, and that seemed to be it. Tien Ho, who had grown up with five older sisters, didn’t seem phased that his new boss was a tiny non-bender girl and had gone to pack without a word. Terashi’s intelligence team would take one of the smaller, faster, boats which would take them to the caldera long before everyone else.  

 “What?” Terashi said as Rou continued to stare at her silently. Lu Ten rolled his eyes.

 “He’s just like that,” Lu Ten said, “Rou, believe me, Terashi comes fully endorsed by my father. Tien Ho’s gonna be safer with her than anywhere else.”

And that was a concern that had been niggling at Lu Ten in between the sudden uprooting and the looming civil war. If the spy, whoever they had been, had attacked Tien Ho, there was little to stop them from returning to finish the job.

 “Is that what this is?” Terashi said with a smirk, but not unkindly, “Look, man. The dude’s tiny but he looks like he can handle himself. We’re just going to be in and out, nothing too dangerous. I promise I’ll get him back to you in one piece.”

The irony of Terashi calling anyone tiny was not lost on anyone. Rather than dwell on that, Lu Ten just laid a hand on Rou’s shoulder. Rou huffed out a wry laugh and inclined his head.

 “I’ll hold you to that, Lieutenant,” Rou said, “Guess I’ll see you after we win this war.”

 “Of course.” Terashi said easily, like there was no other option but to. And with a jolt, Lu Ten realized that there was no option but to. Not with what they had on the line. All the men and women in their charge. The fate of his family, all their families, and the Fire Nation.

 “Of course.” Lu Ten echoed, and closed his eyes to take a breath.

“No one defected? Are you certain?” Lu Ten said in disbelief. Terashi’s team would be out within the half hour. It would be weeks until they would meet again. He’d tried to convince her to let him come along, but even he couldn’t talk his way out of what would almost certainly be political suicide.

 “Not a single man or woman,” Terashi repeated patiently, “I told you, didn’t I?”

 “There’s time for them to change their minds,” Lu Ten argued, following her into what he belatedly realized was her tent, “Father gave them till dawn tomorrow.”

 “I still think you’re not gonna lose a single soldier, I’d bet money on it.” Terashi said, sitting down on her cot as if it were every day she hosted royalty in her tent, “Stake my whole reputation on it, even.”

Lu Ten raised his eyebrows, hoping to convey his scepticism through his face alone. Terashi gave him a cool look in response. She grabbed her pack and unearthed a whetstone, reaching into her boot and pulling out a thin dagger. Paused halfway to glance up at him.

 “You gonna spit it out this century, sir?” She said, gesturing lazily with the blade. She set it down on her pallet and started pulling out a truly astounding number of similar blades from her person in a pile at her side. “I’d say take your time, but I’m due out before next year.”

 “You’re just very confident,” Lu Ten said, and was rewarded with a smirk, “And stop me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’re supposed to be drawing weapons in the presence of your prince.”

 “S’my tent, sir, but you’re welcome to report me.” Terashi said, starting to sharpen her blades in quick efficient moves.

 “It might not mean anything in the end.” Lu Ten said, still looking at her hands, “Me being a prince.”

 “Might not,” Terashi said, and slipped a blade back into her boot, “But I don’t think the spirits would have bothered bringing you back if you were just gonna bite it right after.”

Lu Ten startled enough to look up at her face. Her eyes flickered up to meet his.

 “How do you know about that?” Lu Ten asked hoarsely.

Terashi cocked her head, a quiet, measuring look on her thin face. She did not smile.

 “It’s probably not my story to tell,” Terashi said at last, “But why else would we all still be here in the morning?”

Now that the proverbial cat-puma was out of the bag, his father’s counsel could finally meet openly. Lu Ten and Rou took their seats in the circle, and no one spoke against it when Lu Ten introduced Rou as his Lieutenant General. 

Rou, to his credit, spoke well and intelligently. He quickly recounted Lu Ten’s men and resources, made suggestions and course corrections, and acted as if meetings like these was where he had always meant to be. Lu Ten caught his father giving Rou several long assessing looks throughout the briefing, and Lu Ten gave his father a warning look back. He didn’t bring Rou on just for his father to poach him after all.

 “According to our sources, Ozai has been building an army to meet us at the main entrance.” Iroh said, gesturing at the map spread before them of the Caldera, “I suspect that he will not launch an attack at this time. It would be to his benefit if I returned and allowed him to remain on the throne, rather than spark civil war.”

 “Forgive me, sir, but what if you’re wrong?” Said one of the Generals, a cold wizened woman named Yoon who had served under Azulon long before Iroh, “He could have laid traps for us along the way. We may be ambushed before we even reach the gates.”

 “And more fool him, if so,” Iroh said steadily, “There is no glory in attacking your own unprovoked. The dishonour of it would spread through the country. It would be extremely difficult to assume true command then.”

 “This is assuming he cares for honorable command,” Yoon pointed out ungently, “As you yourself have said, you brother is unpredictable and ruthless. What is to stop him from beginning his reign with a show of power? And what would be more sobering than mass massacre?”

 “My father’s death has already shaken his unlawful acquisition of power.” Iroh said. Yoon closed her eyes briefly at the mention of Azulon’s passing. She nodded at him to continue. “I believe his hope was to take the throne, and for me to allow him to keep it.”

 “Why would he think you would do that?” Lu Ten asked, and felt the gaze of the Generals turn on him, watchful, “It doesn’t make any sense.”

 “It would, if it was reported to him that you had passed in Ba Sing Se.” Iroh said simply, and Lu Ten—

was digging and digging, hours and days and years in the dark, earth in his mouth in his nose in his ears and he was never going to make it never going to make it out not with his palms and fingernails ripped to hell and he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t see he was going the wrong way—

—took a slow quiet breath. 

 “Yes.” Yoon said, drawing attention back to herself. Lu Ten snuck a glance at her, and she was cold as ever, but she met his eyes briefly and inclined her head. “The timeline matches up. But he must know by now that the prince lives, and that we are returning. What then?”

 “Our army is not unsubstantial,” Iroh said, looking around the tent, “He would have to defeat me to assume power over the men. We may not have succeeded, but we are still the army who held Ba Sing Se for six hundred days. If nothing else, we serve as a symbol of the Fire Nation’s resilience and glory. That is no small thing. I believe he would desire it for himself.”

 “Agni Kai.” Rou said softly from Lu Ten’s side. Lu Ten tensed but it was another General, a man named Gou, who responded with derision.

 “We are not playing at war here,” Gou said, narrowing his eyes at them, “This isn’t some folk tale or bedtime story. I don’t know how the war hasn’t beaten the idealism out of you yet.”

Lu Ten jumped up, feeling himself heat up at Gou’s words, fire gathering under his skin at his sudden fury. Gou didn’t know what they’d seen out there, right at the front-lines while Generals like Gou sat safe behind an encampment of soldiers.

 “Enough, Gou,” Iroh said, cutting through the haze of Lu Ten’s anger, “Lu Ten, sit down. We have enough issues right now without also being at each other’s throats. There is political merit to the idea of solving this with Agni Kai, as well the fact it sits at our most bloodless option.”

 “And if he kills you, sir, what then?” Yoon said brutally, yellow eyes gleaming in her drawn tan face, “What of us, and the nation?”

 “So little faith, Yoon?” Iroh said, something of his old cockiness seeping into his tone. Despite himself, Lu Ten felt his mouth pull up into a grin as his father’s sparkling eyes swept the room.

 “Forgive me for being a realist, sir,” Yoon said dryly, “But we should talk about the real consequences if something were to happen to you.”

Oh, Lu Ten realized as the conversation turned smoothly into the mechanics of riding their hopes on Agni Kai, this is really happening.

It was stupid to think of it only now, but Lu Ten had to hide a trembling hand in his sleeve as he tried not to imagine things going wrong. He knew, as children know in vague unspoken ways, that his father would die one day. He hadn’t thought, even through war and siege and everything in between, that it might be as soon as the coming days.

 “I’m sorry.” Rou said lowly at a break in the meeting. Lu Ten accepted the skin of water and drained it perfunctorily in lieu of an answer.

 “It was a good idea.” Lu Ten replied finally, staring at his hands. Clean, almost offensively so. And yet sometimes it surprised him to see his fingernails whole, to see the unblemished lifelines cutting through his palms.

 “There may be something else,” Rou said, although they both knew there wasn’t, not without terrible losses on both sides, losses that Iroh would not bear if there came an alternative, “And in any case, your father is not the Dragon of the West for nothing.”

It was true. Lu Ten needed, had to, believe it. Ozai was cruel and ruthless, but there was a reason why Iroh was feared across the four nations, why it was his name spoken in low tones. Lu Ten took a breath and nodded.

 “I’m glad you’re here.” Lu Ten said, smiling slightly.

 “You are, huh?” Rou said, and then chuckled, “I thought General Gou was gonna skewer me with his eyes.”

 “He’s all bark, no bite,” Lu Ten said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “Gou the guard-dog.”

Rou blinked, then snorted so loud some of the milling Generals gave them strange looks. Lu Ten hid his grin under a sip of the emptied water skin as Rou blinked hard.

 “That,” Rou said, accusatorily, “was a terrible pun. Is his name really written with the dog character?”

 “I don’t know,” Lu Ten said, and had to dig his thumbnail into his palm to stop himself from cracking up, “You could ask him.”

 “Yeah, I like my balls where they are, thanks.” Rou scoffed.

 “What are you thinking he’s gonna do with your balls?” Lu Ten hissed.

 “Glad to see you boys are having a good time.” Iroh said dryly from behind them, and Lu Ten resisted the urge to put his hands behind his back and blurt out something stupid like: I didn’t do it.

 “I’m grateful to be here, sir,” Rou said quickly, giving Iroh a quick low bow, a little red-faced at being caught. Iroh just nodded, giving both of them a thoughtful look.

 “That was a good suggestion earlier, Commander Rou,” Iroh said, and gracefully ignored the squeak Rou couldn’t swallow in time, “It is an honor to have you serve in this capacity during this time.”

 “The honor is mine, my lord,” Rou said, stumbling a little, “I hope I did not mis-step.”

 “Counsel meetings are not the time to hold anything back,” Iroh countered easily, “I hope to hear more from you in the coming days.”

 “Yes sir,” Rou said, still looking a little dazed, and seemed grateful to be dismissed after that.

 “No,” Lu Ten said once Rou was out of earshot. Iroh smiled serenely in response, although Lu Ten knew better. “Father, no. You can’t have him.”

Iroh hummed, still looking infuriatingly pleased with himself.

 “Father,” Lu Ten said before he could convince himself not to, “If it does come down to Agni Kai. Do you…do you think you could win?”

Iroh gave Lu Ten a long, patient look, so wise and kind Lu Ten felt all of six again, listening to his dad talk about firebending forms and ancient creatures long dead.

 “Nevermind,” Lu Ten said, shaking his head before his father could reply, “You can’t— I mean. You have to. We have to win.”

We have to, Lu Ten thought grimly taking his seat at the counsel again, dirt in his fingernails, under his tongue; skin crawling with the clamoring host of spirits grabbing and pulling and clawing for attention. We have to.

At the pace they were going, they would arrive at the Caldera half a day ahead of schedule. At the very least it seemed as the sea favoured them, with miles of calm waters and clear skies ahead of them.

 “We will not siege the Caldera,” Iroh said patiently, despite having heard the same suggestion thrice in the same hour as an alternative to Agni Kai, “I will not starve our people to rule over ashes.”

 “A direct attack will lose many men on both sides,” Lu Ten said, because it had to be said, “We have the men and supplies to siege, and give Lieutenant Terashi the time to find the cracks in Unc— Ozai’s defenses.”

 “If Ozai was a man to be reasoned with, yes,” Iroh said, “An enemy backed into a corner is unpredictable, my brother more so. We see the people in the Caldera as our people, and while that gives us strength to fight, it is also our weakness.”

 “It would be a city of hostages,” Lu Ten said, heart sinking at the realization, “Father, are you certain?”

 “I am, my son,” Iroh said grimly, “The capital is nearly upon us, whatever we decide, we must decide quickly.

In the end, Lu Ten would curse himself for not shipping out with Terashi, or pushing his father to leave earlier, or a thousand other things he knew he was not to blame for. History would say the civil war for the throne was won bloodlessly, but Lu Ten would have fought a hundred wars to prevent the horror that happened instead.

 “Is that Lieutenant Terashi?” Lu Ten said, peering into the distance where a small boat was rapidly approaching as his father and Jee spoke in low voices about troop movements.

Lu Ten did not wait for his father’s response, rushing to the edge of the ship to meet her. They had tossed her a ladder, and she was halfway up when he got there.

He reached out to steady Terashi as she reached the lip, knuckles white where he clutched her armor too tightly. Her face was pale, and the stoic line of her mouth trembled at the horror of it, but Terashi, still clinging to the rope, gave her news in a voice that did not waver.

He forced his fist to unclench, a dangerous calm sweeping over him. Politics be damned, he had to go. He had to go. Terashi must have seen it in his eyes because she shook his hand off and started the climb back down. Feeling as if he was outside of his body, watching himself from somewhere far away, he swung his leg over and started to descend.

The men were shouting something to each other, or maybe to him. He couldn’t hear them over the roar in his ears. He barely waited for Terashi to release off the ladder before he jumped onto her boat.

 “What are we waiting for?” Lu Ten said when she made no move to go.

 “Him, apparently,” Terashi said, looking past him to the main ship, and when Lu Ten turned he saw his father already halfway down.

 “You can’t stop me,” Lu Ten said, but helped his father down even though Iroh clearly didn’t need it. His dad just looked at him which such a calm anger that Lu Ten felt a shiver run right down his spine and through his boots.

 “Who’s stopping you?” Iroh said simply, as if it were that simple. Terashi tossed off a sharp salute, and turned, shouting commands at the crew to fucking go.

They did not dock at the main harbour, but at a little hidden cove that Terashi said was favoured by pirates. There were ostrich-horses waiting for them, which Lu Ten and his father took, riding swiftly toward the caldera. Lu Ten wanted to ride all the way in through the main entrance, but Iroh had another idea.

 “My brother’s army will be waiting for us,” Iroh said, “There is another way in, but we must be swift.”

Another way in turned out to be the tunnels under the Caldera. Lu Ten spared a moment to be concerned for the glaring crack in the Caldera’s defenses, but he doubted this was the only one that Iroh knew to exploit. It was quick work to abandon their ostrich-horses and find the opening. Iroh entered first, and Lu Ten made to follow before fear rushed in without warning, choking him where he stood.

 “Fuck,” Lu Ten said, trying to breathe. He swore again, the word caught on what sounded suspiciously like a sob. The earth, so solid before, threatened to pull him under again. Bile rose in his throat as he stumbled back, filling his mouth sourly with the taste of ash and dirt.

 “Breathe with me,” his father said, his voice piercing through the panic, “My son! You have the blood of dragons and you will not falter, not now.”

Lu Ten reached out blindly and found his father’s hand. He took a step and was convinced he could not take another.

 “My son, it is not a slight to you if you choose to turn back and lead the troop,” His father said, more gently than before, “I alone will be enough to face my brother.”

At his father’s words, a memory took shape behind Lu Ten’s eyelids, solid and unyielding. It was the first time he’d held his baby cousin and knew he loved him more deeply, more tenderly, than he loved anything.

And now, if Terashi’s report was right, Zuko…spirits, Zuko.

Spirits give me strength, Lu Ten thought desperately, and took the next step, and the next, Agni give me strength.

He opened his eyes.

His father moved swiftly through the tunnels, even with the firm grip he maintained on Lu Ten’s arm. Lu Ten would have protested at being held like a child, if not for the fact he did not know if he could have kept moving without his father’s bruising fingers that grounded him to the present.

His father could more than light the way, but Lu Ten carried his own flame as they navigated the tunnels, scaring away the small creatures who had made a home there by their feet splashing through the water in sync.

Finally his father halted at a wall that looked like all the other walls. Iroh considered the stone for a second before pushing one seemingly at random. The wall opened up, hardly any room for two grown men but Lu Ten would suffer more than bruised shoulders to leave that spirits-damned tunnel.

The wall closed seamlessly behind them as they stepped into a room Lu Ten had never seen before. It seemed to be some sort of secret storage area, although there was no time to explore it.

A couple of secret doors later, and finally they emerged in one of the minor libraries, a room that Lu Ten used to take his classes in a long time ago. There was no time for nostalgia as they moved through the palace until finally, finally, they reached the throne room. The guards stationed there were no match for the Dragon of the West, and Lu Ten did not even spare them a glance as his father knocked them aside as though they did not even rate as an inconvenience to him.

 “Ozai!” Iroh roared as he burst into the hall, licks of flames like dragon’s breath carrying the words across the throne room, every flame in the hall responding to his father’s fury in a burst of violent heat.

Ozai barely lifted his head, smirking down at his approaching brother with cold eyes. In that moment, Lu Ten realized that his uncle was no man but a monster. One who had lived among them and eaten at their table.

 “Brother, you made it,” Ozai said silkily, tilting his head so that the crown of the Fire Lord glinted in the flames, “But I suppose you are not here to congratulate my coronation.”

Beside Ozai sat his youngest cousin, he almost didn’t recognize her, she had grown so much during his absence. Lu Ten was shocked to see that Azula’s eyes shone with glee. He could not reconcile her with the girl he knew years ago, who had extended her arms to be picked up for piggy-back rides through the palace. Who had pretended that she was not also crying beside her bawling older brother when Lu Ten had left for the front lines.

 “The crown was not yours to take.” Iroh said coldly, taking one step forward, and another, “What happened to our father?”

 “Taken cruelly, and too soon,” Ozai said mournfully, but there was nothing in his eyes, “His dying wish was for me to take his place after it was clear that his heir could not even capture Ba Sing Se.”

 “Who witnessed this?” Iroh asked steadily, and turned to regard the room where the Fire Sages trembled under his gaze. To Lu Ten’s relief, none stepped forward to answer. That was enough for his father, who turned back to Ozai.

 “Come now, brother, you did not even want the crown,” Ozai said, lifting his eyebrows like he was letting Iroh into some inside joke, “There is no need for such unpleasantness. I am pleased to see Lu Ten has recovered beyond all expectation. This is me, offering you a way out. Would you not wish to spend your years in peace and with your son?”

 “And what of your son?” Lu Ten said furiously. Ozai’s gaze sharpened, turning his attention away from his father and to him. Lu Ten was a warrior and a commander of his father’s army. He had helped his father hold the siege on Ba Sing Se for six hundred days. But under the cruel eyes of his uncle he felt his heart shrink in his breast, and felt small as a child again.

 “A Crown Prince must learn respect,” Ozai said coolly, “A lesson you could have benefitted from in another life, perhaps.”

So it was true. Lu Ten clenched his fists and fire blazed in daggers at his side. He opened his mouth to call for Agni Kai when his father stepped between them, cutting the air sharply with his hand.

 “Enough,” Iroh said, “In front of these witnesses, I dispute your claim on my birthright. Ozai, I challenge you to Agni Kai.”

Ozai rose, and the flames rose with him. From the dais he looked more like a spirit than a man.

 “I accept.” Ozai said, and smiled with all his teeth.