Chapter Text
Sasrutha seemed different the next time Hafeeza was able to visit. It was hard to pin what exactly had changed.
She entertained the idea that it was just because he had recovered—all his bruises had faded and his gashes had closed over. The only indications he had been hurt were the prosthetics and the wandering eye, but even in that department, he had vastly improved. True, he still kept the crutches around as support, and some days, the wheelchair was all he could handle, but it was a far cry from crushed legs.
It certainly was very different from the last time Hafeeza had spent much time around him, during the amputation.
But that didn’t feel like it was it.
She thought it might have to do with how he was now more comfortable around Ba Sing Se, but that didn’t seem to be it either.
“So, how are you doing?” Hafeeza asked, because no one accused Hafeeza of being particularly subtle, and come on, Sasrutha was right there. She didn’t have to go behind his back to figure out what was going on.
“Considering everything, much better,” Sasrutha said. “And you?”
“Settling back into life,” Hafeeza said. “The Lower Ring’s being cleared of the last temporary infirmaries.”
Sasrutha nodded, gaze sliding from her, and she filled the time with idle talk. Sasrutha would chime in, but it always sounded like he was unsure of his place. To be entirely fair to him, recovering from what he went through was no easy feat, and though Hafeeza had been on the battlefield, she had not been a fighter. She had not been held by the Fire Nation. Ultimately, she had no idea what it had been like, and what it was now like, losing limbs and having to trust in absolute strangers.
“Do you mind ringing that bell?” Sasrutha asked at a point, nodding at a bell attached to the wall close to where the bed was. Hafeeza obliged.
“What was that for?” she asked as she sat down again.
“Yuvan’ll be coming up,” Sasrutha said quietly. That was another thing that felt off. While Sasrutha had never been loud, there was a difference in his voice now. Hafeeza held back a frown and thought as she stirred her drink.
Yuvan did come up, and he looked vaguely confused at the layout.
“Did you need anything?” he asked the two of them, though his eyes were on Sasrutha.
“I need to talk to both of you,” Sasrutha said, and Hafeeza suddenly got the difference. Sasrutha’s voice had always been soft, not quiet.
Yuvan shot a look at her, but Hafeeza just shrugged.
“What about?” he asked, and Hafeeza did not like how Sasrutha’s eyes shifted.
It didn’t mean anything was wrong. Maybe he was trying to find a way to say “Thanks for everything, but also I’d like to get the fuck out of Ba Sing Se.” Hafeeza wouldn’t blame him if that was the case.
“I want to help,” Sasrutha said instead, and it took a solid moment for Hafeeza’s brain to catch up to the words.
“What?” Hafeeza asked, partially because she wasn’t exactly sure what Sasrutha was even talking about.
“I want to help with what you’ve been doing,” Sasrutha said, and the pieces started to piece together in her mind.
Sasrutha, at best, just thought, at worst, knew about the underground rebellion.
“And was it that we’re doing?” Yuvan asked, voice as flat as it usually was.
“Rebellion’s my best bet,” Sasrutha said, finally turning those abnormal eyes onto them. He looked at Hafeeza with a nod, “You mentioned that there were ways to get around without proper identification. Could’ve been a thing only the Lower Ring knows about, but you,” now Sasrutha was looking at Yuvan, “get news despite there being no war in Ba Sing Se.”
Hafeeza was a mature rebellion member and thus, did not glare at Yuvan, but she was going to fucking deck him later. That was an amateur mistake, and yeah, Sasrutha had likely been despondent during his recovery, but there were other ways to cheer a person up.
To be fair, Yuvan did show his care very, very strangely.
“And then there are the Dai Li,” Sasrutha continued. “They’re obviously wrong, but some seem to believe in what they’re doing. That level of conviction, with their power, is a recipe for corruption. Since the two of you seem to have experience with evading them and doing activities they wouldn’t approve of, I’d like to join in what you’re doing and help.”
Sasrutha’s hands were folded in his lap, like that was a perfectly normal thing to ask, like this was a job application or something.
“You realize that with a confession like that, we could report you, right?” Hafeeza asked, just to gauge how much of an idiot Sasrutha was. Yuvan had been stupid, with leaking news of outside, but Sasrutha was trusting them largely based off speculation.
“I could also report you,” Sasrutha pointed out, and those pale eyes were hard now. So he wasn’t completley idiotic.
“With what evidence?” Hafeeza asked. “Sure, I’d probably get investigated, because I’m Lower Ring, but there’s no actual basis for your claims. Besides, you have your own… situation.”
Sasrutha winced. “True, there isn’t much, but I was found in Fire Nation armor. And you pulled me out. What if I was a Fire Nation soldier? Besides,” Sasrutha added, “some of the Dai Li… are around enough that they’d probably take it further.”
Now, Hafeeza did look at Yuvan, who looked as confused and concerned as she did.
“You’ve had contact with the Dai Li?” Yuvan asked.
“They come by,” Sasrutha said, “and I play pai sho with them.”
“You let Dai Li in,” Yuvan said, dazed. Hafeeza decided to re-evaluate Sasrutha’s intellect.
“It was before I had prosthetics,” Sasrutha said drily. “One came in. It’s not like I could have pushed them out.”
“But you play pai sho with them,” Yuvan said, sounding remarkably distressed about the fact that the game was pai sho of all things.
“I invited them, and now they break in to play,” Sasrutha said blandly.
“You’re not really supposed to interact with the Dai Li,” Hafeeza said. “Do you realize how that makes you look?”
“Not entirely,” Sasrutha said, “considering I’ve never been in this damn city before, and the only thing I know about the Dai Li is that they suck because of one vague warning Yuvan gave me and all their cryptic threats.”
“And you continue to interact with them?” Yuvan asked. “I don’t know how exactly you lie on the matter, but if you so much as question the nonexistence of the war, they take you somewhere and force you to think that there is no war until you’re thanking them for enlightening you.”
Sasrutha looked vaguely taken aback. “I… didn’t know it was to that degree,” he said, “but I can’t very well tell them to get the fuck out in the case I piss them off. To them, I’m just the weird, oblivious outsider who got in an unfortunate accident. Which, coincidentally, puts me in a great position to get information from them.”
Hafeeza decided to utterly and completely renounce any thought of hers that even implied Sasrutha was smart.
“So when they have a really close eye on you,” Hafeeza said, “you want to engage in illegal activities. The kind of things that they would, at best, kill you for. And you think we can help you with that.”
“Yeah,” Sasrutha said with a shrug. Somehow, that just ticked her off. That Sarutha was willing to discard his life with a shrug, and life that Hafeeza and everyone else had worked so hard to maintain and support.
“I pulled your ass out of a grave and you’re just going to put yourself in one again?” Hafeeza almost snarled.
Sasrutha looked taken aback, like he hadn’t even thought of it. Then his face fell into a mask, and she couldn’t tell what he was even thinking.
“I don’t have anything left for me,” he said, looking straight at her and then at Yuvan. “I don’t have a home to return to, or—or a family I can rejoin. I can’t go out and fight against the Fire Nation, not on the battlefield and that’s the only way I know how. I… I owe you and your families, and I owe this city for giving me the possibility of a new life. If I can help, I want to, and I will. It’s only fair.”
Hafeeza didn’t know what to say, in the face of that.
“You’re not—you’re not indebted to us,” Yuvan said, and she could tell Sasrutha’s little speech rattled him.
Sasrutha snorted. “You save my life, make sure I don’t die of my injuries, get me prosthetics, and think I can just… what? Stay in your home for the rest of my days without doing anything to help? Especially since the Dai Li come by every other night or so? If not to compensate for your time and efforts, let me help so I don’t feel like a freeloader.”
“Let me talk with Yuvan a bit about it,” Hafeeza said, gripping Yuvan’s arm and pulling him out of the room. “Stay here.”
Sasrutha raised his brows, but shrugged again, turning his gaze to the wall in that distant way he was so used to doing.
“What do you think?” Hafeeza asked Yuvan once they were a good distance from the room.
Yuvan stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”
In most other circumstances, she wouldn’t be. She’d take a look at all the pieces, at a man who appeared out of nowhere, who had communication with the Dai Li, who was able to put two pieces together and actually reach the right answer, and she would say it was all a set up. There were too many coincidences and little holes for Sasrutha to not have been involved in something.
But this wasn’t like most other circumstances. Maybe it was the spirit-touched eyes or maybe it was the fact that Sasrsutha was not a Ba Sing Se resident. But she didn’t feel alarmed about the situation, not anymore.
“He’s not lying, I think,” Hafeeza said, “and if we get him started on the more low level stuff, then if he spills to his pai sho partners, we’ll know and there won’t be much damage. He does have a unique position in that the Dai Li could spill information—”
“—or purposely leak it,” Yuvan pointed out. “Even if Sasrutha doesn’t rat, the Dai Li could figure out and feed him false information.”
“Or if not that, more people is better,” Hafeeza said. “And he could have skills that we need.”
Yuvan frowned, crossing his arms. “I don’t like this.”
“Because you didn’t notice, or because you think he can’t do anything?” she asked, drawing sharp satisfaction at seeing a wince.
“... I’ll talk to my ma about it,” Yuvan said, “but she might decide to cut him loose.”
Hafeeza didn’t like it, but Asha’s word was the closest thing they had to law. So she just nodded sharply and the two of them headed back inside.
Sasrutha was moving around pai sho tiles, and Hafeeza didn’t know if they were actual strategies or he was just forming flowers, but she did know that they really had to get him new hobbies.
“If you’re so concerned, I don’t have to deal with the Dai Li,” he said when he saw them come through. “If it’s any use, I know a bit about Fire Nation battle formations, strategies, and inventions. Or I could help with mechanics in general. Manufacturing items, and the like.”
“Were you a mechanic?” Yuvan asked.
“Not formally,” Sasrutha said. “But it intersected a lot with the metalwork I did.”
“Metalworking, huh?” Yuvan asked, and Hafeeza swore she could see the gears moving in his head. “How good are you?”
“I mean, the stuff I’ve made works,” Sasrutha said, “and compared to the other things around, they were fairly high quality.”
“What sort of things did you make?” Hafeeza asked.
“I’ve made a few swords and knives,” Sasrutha said, “and everything else is all over the place. I’ve made small figurines, clocks, items that open or do something else after a set period of time, little mechanical toys that move if you wind them up. Before… everything, I was thinking about sound and how to capture it, but I hadn’t gotten anywhere with that.”
“All with metal?” Hafeeza asked.
“Well, the toys weren’t completely metal—I’d just have to make the gears and other mechanical parts,” Sasrutha said. “And I didn’t get far enough with sound to see what it would require.”
Hafeeza turned to look at Yuvan, and almost rolled her eyes at the furrowed brows.
After a moment, Yuvan nodded. “I’ll talk to the head about your offer and skills,” he said. “My guess is that you’ll get set up with a blacksmith, and after getting established, will start work.”
Sasrutha’s shoulders relaxed. “When—when do you think you can let me know?”
Yuvan shrugged. “I’ll let you know when the decision comes. But,” he said, eyeing Sasrutha, “it’s… quiet work. Don’t expect to do something that’ll change the entire city. And don’t try to get any information from the Dai Li.”
Sasrutha opened his mouth, but Yuvan continued, “Look, I get it might be tempting, and I’m guessing that you were probably able to hide your mechanical knowledge from the Fire Nation, but the Dai Li are on another level. You’re already engaging way too much for a civilian.”
“I was going to say that I wouldn’t,” Sasrutha muttered. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
Hafeeza couldn’t help but snort, but she quickly sobered. “You’ll also have to act like nothing has changed,” she said. “If you start acting suspicious, even unconsciously, your chance of helping will be over before it even started.”
“I know how to keep secrets,” Sasrutha said, “and I have a very good pai sho face. It won’t be a problem.”
“Just make sure you deliver on that promise, then,” Hafeeza said, because what else was there to say?
Suddenly, Yuvan smirked. “You’re not setting up a good record, then,” he said, and Sasrutha turned to him, puzzled.
“You’re supposed to be having a pai sho game with my ma,” he said and Sasrutha’s eyes widened. He pushed himself up and, hurriedly bidding them a good evening, made his way out of the room faster than Hafeeza would have thought possible.
“What was that about?” she asked.
“He’s never been late to a game before,” Yuvan said. “It’d be suspicious if he was now.”
“He can just say he lost track of time,” Hafeeza pointed out. “Or that it was slow moving because of his prosthetics.”
“Ma gets terrifying if you miss a game,” Yuvan said. “She—actually, you don’t want to know.”
“When are you going to tell her, then?” Hafeeza asked.
“Probably sometime this evening,” Yuvan said. “It’d be better cause if Ma doesn’t know something’s up, she can serve as a good indicator of if Sasrutha’s actually good at acting.”
“Smart,” Hafeeza said. “Anyways, let’s get to the point of my visit.”
Yuvan just blinked. “What?”
“Studying?” Hafeeza said. “Since exams will be starting in a few weeks?”
It took a moment for the understanding to dawn on Yuvan’s face, and Hafeeza seriously wondered if Yuvan thought that she had come here just for Sasrutha’s spontaneous confession.
&&&
Sasrutha was an interesting young man, from his introduction to Ba Sing Se to his spirit-blessed eyes to how quickly he guessed at the rebellion.
He was also an exceptional pai sho player, which had immediately elevated him in Asha’s eyes.
“What do you think you can contribute?” Asha asked, wanting to hear it straight from his mouth. Yuvan had a tendency to embellish things, especially when it came to people he liked.
“Well, I’ve done quite a bit of metalworking and mechanics,” Sasrutha said. “I’ve made weapons before and regular contraptions. It’s not much, but it can contribute.”
“Where did you learn metalworking?” Asha asked. While not confirmed, Sasrutha had to have come from a fairly rural background. The use of metal, especially to such a degree to require metalworking as a separate skill, was something that the Fire Nation did.
“My mother pointed me towards it and I figured it out the rest after sh—I figured the rest out from plans.”
Asha decided not to press. She could tell where that sentence was going.
“So you never had a formal instructor?”
“My mother—”
“You implied that she didn’t directly teach you,” Asha pointed out.
“I’m not bad at it,” Sasrutha muttered.
“I’m not doubting you, but metal is hard to work with and harder to mold in some cases.”
Sasrutha frowned. “No, it’s not.”
Asha blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Metal is fairly malleable.”
Asha carefully took out her hairpin and handed it to Sasrutha.
“That’s metal,” Asha said. “Is that malleable?”
Sasrutha, right in front of her eyes, bent her hairpin in half. He didn’t break it, but he just bent the metal down as if it were as soft as wet clay.
“And then you can smooth it out again,” Sasrutha said, straightening her hair pin and using his fingernails to return some of the details that had gotten lost when he bent it.
And then he handed it back to her, as if that was a totally normal thing to do and Asha was a bit stupid for making him go through that procedure.
Asha took her hairpin, and, with all her strength, tried to bend it. Her hairpin had been a gift, and was made out of quality metal. It did not bend.
“I’ve never heard of a metalbender before,” Asha said. She saw the exact moment those words registered in Sasrutha’s brain.
“Metal—no. No, I’m not a bender.”
“Obviously, you are,” Asha said, feeling strangely calm.
“Metalbenders aren’t a thing,” Sasrutha argued. “Someone would have been one already. That’s—wouldn’t you have to actually work to be one? It’s not something that comes naturally.”
“What do you think you have then, super strength?” Asha asked, and Sasrutha fell quiet.
“It’s probably a strange manifestation of earthbending,” Asha said after a few moments of thought.
“How do you know?”
Asha shrugged. “Interactions with spirits always change things, so it makes sense that they might shift the range of what a bender could do. If you were another kind of bender, your eyes would change color or be another color initially. They stay green, though, like an earthbender’s.”
Sasrutha stared at the hairpin.
“I—I didn’t think it was anything special.”
“Did no one mention it?” Asha asked. If there were other metalbenders out there…
“I’ve never really worked in front of people,” Sasrutha said sheepishly. “Metalworking was a thing just for me and my mom.”
Asha supposed it made sense. It probably wasn’t as if Sasrutha had anyone to compare to, and with metal being scarce, he likely wouldn’t have seen how other people interacted with it.
“Would you be comfortable using your bending to help us?” Asha asked.
“Yeah, of course,” Sasrutha said. “I offered metalwork with that in mind.”
Asha couldn’t help but smile. “We’ll have to have another meeting before any final decisions,” she said, glancing at the clock. “You know not to speak of this to anyone?”
“Of course,” Sasrutha said. “And—thank you for the opportunity. If you choose me, then I promise I won’t let you down.”
Asha snorted. “This isn’t exactly a job interview.”
Sasrutha shrugged. “I wanted to thank you anyways.”
Sasrutha then left, and, as Asha prepared for her next visitor, she almost laughed. Metalbending. Who would have thought.
&&&
“So,” Noor said, leaning against the wall, “you got in.”
“It’s still being decided,” Lu Ten reminded her. “And I have to have a follow up meeting.”
Noor snorted. “Trust me, you’re going to get in. You’re useful, and while it’s not like they’re short on volunteers, the more in manufacturing, the less likely another operative will get busted.”
Lu Ten shrugged. “If you say so. You’re being careful?”
“Duh,” Noor said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been careful long before you came here.”
“I know,” Lu Ten said, “but it’s altogether too easy to get cocky if you’ve done something for a while, or if you think you’re getting aid. This may just be me nagging, but you can’t get relaxed.”
“I got it, I got it,” Noor said. “Do you want to hear what I found so we can start planning, or not?”
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”
Noor smiled, a quick little thing, and took her place seated across Lu Ten.
“I haven’t figured out your Dai Li’s route yet,” she said, “but I have spotted them a few times. I’m fairly certain they’re regulated more towards the Middle Ring, which, if my hierarchy is correct, means they’re up there within the system. Which makes sense since if they can disappear Middle Ringers without questions, they have to have power.”
Noor shot Lu Ten a smirk. “So you’ve got to be careful,” she said.
“Nothing else I can be,” Lu Ten said. “And Leila and her agent are both Lower Ring scouts?”
“From what I can tell, yeah,” she said. “So, it’s not great, but it could be worse. Your Dai Li could be Upper Ring agents.”
“We’d have to split up resources, unless we manage to draw their attention to something that concerns them both,” Lu Ten said, frowning. “I would say draw them in with smuggling between the two Rings, but that’s too great of a risk with very little reward.”
“Yeah,” Noor frowned. “Well, I do need to scout Green and Smiles out more, but if that’s the only connection, it could still work. The Dai Li know that smuggling is going on, and if we can fake it, that’s good for us in both ways.”
“Except for the covert nature of this entire plan,” Lu Ten said. “Or unless the—uh—super special group we both know of is willing to take suggestions out of nowhere.”
“I just need to join in as a tracker agent,” Noor said. “Then it won’t be suspicious.”
Lu Ten frowned. He was new to this, but, “Don’t tracker agents just… track?”
“Well, it’d be less suspicious,” Noor admitted.
“Except it’ll still be a few years until you can become a tracker agent,” Lu Ten pointed out. “Working with what we have now, we know a sure spot for Green and Smiles, and Leila’s general route. Have you tried following Leila?”
Noor shrugged. “A bit. It’s hard to keep up with her and her senior agent, so I haven’t been able to follow them all the way. Besides, so they don’t notice me, I put gravel in my shoes and that makes really long distances painful.”
Lu Ten decided he’d come back to the gravel in shoes bit later.
“And we don’t know the direction of Leila’s route or if she doubles back,” Lu Ten mused. He grabbed his crutches and pushed himself up, navigating towards a map of Ba Sing Se that he left in the corner. Noor figured out his intention and before he could even bend down, she was already unrolling the map.
“It’s too risky to mark things down,” she said.
“Permanently,” Lu Ten corrected. “Besides, I don’t know this city as well as you do. Spread it out on the table.”
As Noor did, Lu Ten scooped up some tiles. They were a bit too big to act as markers on the map, but they’d have to do for now.
“So, we know that there are stops at some of these locations,” Lu Ten said, laying some tiles down and letting Noor adjust them. “If we want to track the Dai Li to their source, then we should stake out those areas. The only question is how to do so efficiently and without drawing any attention.”
“… Divide and conquer?” Noor suggested.
“Something like that,” Lu Ten said, scanning the map. “If I set up a shop, which I’ll be able to do after obtaining a certificate of training, I should do so near one of the sighting areas. If you join me after your apprenticeship, then that’s an easy place to converse, and on your way to and from the shop, you can check the other areas. Wouldn’t be suspicious.”
Noor was smiling as she looked at the map.
“I’m guessing you’re definitely not going to tell Hafeeza,” she said smugly.
Lu Ten, wisely, chose not to comment.
“Um, Sasrutha?”
“Yes?”
“Are you happy?”
Lu Ten blinked, and Noor took that as reason to continue.
“It’s just… I know that this isn’t your home,” she said, “and that you miss your family and your friends. And I guess that you probably can’t go back to all of that, since you’ve decided to stay, but—are you happy? Do you really want to do this?”
Lu Ten tried to smile. He didn’t know how well it turned out. “I do,” he said. “Believe me when I say there’s nothing more that I want to do.”
“Okay,” Noor said dubiously, and Lu Ten, for a moment, wondered if this was what Zuko could have become, or what Azula would be. He tried not to think of it. “But are you happy?”
Was he happy? He certainly hadn’t been for a while, and even now, when Lu Ten felt more light-hearted than normal, everything was still lurking there, underneath the surface. The guilt and shame of his masquerade here, the horror of acknowledging what the Fire Nation’s legacy really was, and the helplessness, because he couldn’t change any of that. The Fire Nation would still be mobilizing, and even if there was no future attack on Ba Sing Se, there was sure to be raids all across the Earth Kingdom, and his own countrymen would do so gladly, or because they were conscripted to.
And then there was anger. So much anger, but Lu Ten didn’t have the energy to begin to unpack that.
“I’m getting there,” was all he said, and for all he knew, it could even be true.
&&&
Iroh used to know his place in life. He was General Iroh, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, the Dragon of the West, the pride of the Fire Nation and the keeper of other titles he had long forgotten. He was to lead the Fire Nation into glory and spread that glory across the world.
He had never labored under the illusion that it would be an easy job. Too many people thought that the Fire Nation was already glorious and needed no further improvement. There was also the fact that the other nations did not want to accept the Fire Nation. They were at war for a reason, and Sozin did eliminate the Air Nomads even more completely than he eliminated dragons.
Iroh did have times in which he doubted his nation. But those doubts were always overcome, because the Fire Nation was to be led into glory and it was Iroh’s duty to ensure that.
So when Achala left him for reasons he still didn’t understand, when he lost dear friends in the line of combat, he just picked himself up again and continued moving. That was how the Dragon of the West worked—the fires thrown at him only made him burn brighter than before. In some cases, he’d even wreak bloody vengeance at his attackers.
Maybe that was what people had expected of him now. That he’d grieve Lu Ten and then tear through the last of Ba Sing Se’s walls, to utterly destroy the city that had taken his son from him.
But there was a reason rest was mandated when learning firebending. A fire could only burn so bright before it burnt out for good. It felt like that was what Iroh was now. He had burned brightly for years, weathering everything and just fueling his fire higher, and now there was nothing left. There was no drive, no thirst for revenge. Just a yawning abyss in his chest.
Lu Ten, his beloved son, his darling child, had been killed in Ba Sing Se. The idea had been that Lu Ten would be a part of a rear attack as the Ba Sing Se forces would succumb more easily when they weren’t just focused on one front.
Iroh hadn’t even been afraid. It was a spirit vision that brought him to the city with visions of victory, and Lu Ten was spirit-blessed. Spirits take care of their own, was his thought. So he had focused on the troops of earthbenders that were assailing them and after the dust and ashes had cleared, only then, did his eyes wander to where his son should have been.
And there was nothing except for heaps of bodies piling in a crater-like structure, charred earth, and the smell of blood in the air. Iroh could see some of his medics trying to find any still breathing soldiers, and Iroh’s concentration was shot, waiting for a medic to come back with news.
Iroh wasn’t sure why he was surprised. If anyone else had been there, Iroh would have already seen that they were dead. A dying Fire Nation soldier had told a medic that there were earthbenders in the back as well, and they collapsed the group underneath them. Those at the front of the line fell in first, crushed by bodies on top of them.
Lu Ten had been at the front.
Iroh didn’t remember much of the retreat, didn’t remember anything until he woke up screaming during his spirit journey, because Lu Ten was gone and he was never coming back. Iroh would never get to see him again, and it was all Iroh’s fault. Not only was his spirit vision to blame, but Lu Ten had wanted to help Iroh and he had wanted to help serve his nation, a notion Iroh had put into his head.
Lu Ten was eighteen when he made that decision, when he decided his father and his nation were worth more than his own life. Iroh would give anything to be able to go back, to keep Lu Ten in the Fire Nation, or at least on an achievable campaign, because after having failed both his son and his nation, Iroh knew which loss he mourned more.
There was also the fact that it took losing Lu Ten to recognize the pointlessness of war, to understand why some Fire Nation citizens threw away their lives to fight their own nation.
Iroh wanted to pretend that conquering Ba Sing Se would have eased his soul. It would have been so easy. He would have been supported. But he supposed there was a reason that Achala had married him, after all, and it was not for these sorts of lies. He—he owed it to her, wherever she was, to try and stop the conflict that now consumed their son. He couldn’t do anything about her, or his son, or all the regrets he now had, but at least he could start to make amends, to help the other nations as he continued a spirit journey that was half an act, and half anything but.
It was… it was hard. Hard to confront everything he did, hard to deal with the loss of his son and everything familiar, hard to work with an organization that very obviously did not trust him, but he owed it to Achala and he owed it to Lu Ten to try. The spirits had made their point, and he would listen to them.
Except that hadn’t been it. Iroh tried to ignore the gossip he heard along his travels, but dead Fire Princes came up too many times, especially instances where Zuko was the dead prince. He had thought that it was just news about Lu Ten’s death, bastardized from the gossip trail, but eventually, he couldn’t take the pitying looks at the White Lotus bases and asked.
And they answered.
They said that the official word was that Earth Kingdom assassins killed Prince Zuko in retaliation for the damage done to Ba Sing Se. The son of the Crown Prince was killed, so why not the son of the other prince?
The things they didn’t say, but didn’t need to: there was little possibility that Earth Kingdom assassins made it all the way to Caldera; if this was done by any group, that group would be claiming the kill like they claimed Lu Ten’s death; the Fire Lord waited weeks before having a quiet burial ceremony, reportedly not even announcing Zuko’s death until asked.
Iroh returned to the Fire Nation. He knew to expect to see his country in a new light now, but a new perspective didn’t explain the rapid changes made in his absence.
There was an unfamiliar coldness to Ursa now. The first few days, Iroh thought it was the grief. Agni knew the range of emotions Iroh had gone through. But as the days passed, the coldness never abated. She kept Azula close, the way she had done with Zuko. Like she was protecting Azula.
Perhaps, if Iroh didn’t know better, he would leave it at the fact that Zuko had just been assassinated. Of course Ursa would be protective. But every time it was feasible, Ursa left Azulon and Ozai’s company, and if it wasn’t possible to leave without her daughter, she watched the scene with eyes more suited to an eaglehawk. Both Azulon and Ozai were under extreme scrutiny, but Ozai in particular. It looked to Iroh as if Ursa hated Ozai.
And Ozai. Iroh had always known that his brother wasn’t the best person, nor had he always understood his brother. But he couldn’t mistake the gloating in Ozai’s eyes, even as he said, quite apologetically, that had they known where to find Iroh, they would have invited him to the funeral.
Iroh just wondered how Ozai could look so unperturbed. Iroh had lost his son, and now Ozai had too, but he hardly seemed bothered. The most negative emotion he showed was annoyance whenever Ursa found a way to abandon him. Iroh’s world had been shattered when Lu Ten died, and by the way Ozai acted, Zuko hadn’t died. No, it was as if Zuko had never existed at all.
It wasn’t just Ozai’s doing—Zuko’s room had been cleared out completely, and except for the mention of the funeral, there had been no talk of Zuko, unlike the multitude of platitudes Iroh had been given for Lu Ten. The servants scurried away at his every appearance, and Iroh wondered what it said that his father expressed the deepest sympathies for Lu Ten’s death and did not once acknowledge his other grandson’s passing.
Iroh, at first, pushed all his worries aside. He had a duty here, and that was aiding the Order of the White Lotus.
But at one family dinner, he finally caught more than a glance at his niece.
Azula had always been a prodigy, and when he had seen her training when she was younger, it hadn’t been a question of if she’d master blue fire. It had been a question of when, and Iroh would admit that even he didn’t think it would be this soon. Even prodigies shouldn’t have been able to make blue fire at eight, much less hold it consistently.
Azula burned for minutes, and, glancing from Ursa’s clenched fists, to the glint in Ozai’s eyes, to how Azulon watched the entire scene, Iroh knew there was something very wrong here, and that something was tied inextricably to Zuko’s death.
Iroh could look away. He had other duties to attend to.
Iroh had spent long enough looking away.
Azula did not like him very much, that Iroh knew well. So, he did not take offense when trying to spend time with his niece proved to be a difficult endeavor. He did feel the tiniest bit annoyed when the distance spread to Ursa. Iroh used to have a good relationship with his sister-in-law, and he knew that if she wasn’t so suspicious of him, this would be a whole lot easier.
But he made do. Iroh plastered a smile on his face and offered tea and pai sho until they finally caved.
“This is a stupid game,” Azula said, frowning down at the board and sounding more like her brother than she likely knew.
Iroh took a sip of his tea. Ursa hadn’t, yet.
“If it is stupid, then you will be able to win easily,” Iroh responded smoothly, and Azula lifted her gaze from the board.
“Fine,” Azula said, and slid a tile forwards. Iroh looked down and almost laughed. Azula had chosen the white lotus tile.
“The white lotus gambit, huh?” he muttered and Ursa shot him a concerned look.
Azula copied her mother, but added, “You should reduce your tea intake, Uncle.”
Iroh blinked. And blinked again. And then blinked thrice just for good measure. “Pardon?”
Sighing almost dramatically, Azula said, “Zuko always said that you say weird things after you’ve had your tea.”
Iroh winced, eyes almost averting to the side. And it was there that he caught it—a glint in Azula’s eyes, like she was studying his reaction. Almost like she had been testing him.
Iroh wondered if he had passed.
“It’s your turn,” Azula pointed out, leaning back in her seat. Ursa’s eyes flitted from her daughter to Iroh, obviously catching that something happened.
Iroh wondered how much exactly he had missed over the years. Still, if anything, this promised a very interesting game indeed.
&&&
Achala was not a forgiving person. Considering she was Grand Lotus, perhaps she should have been. Perhaps she should have been a lot of things that she wasn’t.
But the point remained that Achala was not forgiving. She held onto grudges till it turned her sour, and drank injustices to remind herself of their bitter taste. This was why she couldn’t forgive, because she never forgot—she never allowed herself to forget.
She had been… not happier, but more light hearted when she was younger. Full of righteous rage that kept her going, but still, more believing in the ability of the world to change. Less willing to hold grudges. So, when she met an obvious isle-born soldier named Mushi, she hadn’t pushed him away. She was as rude and petty as the situation allowed her to be, but she didn’t push him away.
And as years passed and he kept coming back, the rudeness and pettiness and overall attitude turned more to banter. She knew what he did, as a soldier, but she also knew how many soldiers were drafted, and she knew what Mushi really thought of the war in their private conversations.
In short, she had allowed herself to forget what the Fire Nation did, because as they grew from strangers to friends to something a bit more than that, it was never Mushi she pictured when she envisioned Fire Nation soldiers, even though she knew that he was one.
And that was why, when he proposed, she said yes.
And then, that was when Mushi told her who he really was.
Achala still wasn’t entirely sure why she went along with it. There was the shock, sure, along with the fact that it may have seemed suspicious for her to call it off after she already said yes to his proposal. Perhaps it had been that naïve thought that an actual change could be made. Mushi knew quite a bit of what she thought of the Fire Nation, after all, and since Mushi was the Crown Prince Iroh, maybe some of those problems could actually start to get fixed.
Like she said, she had forgotten what the Fire Nation had done and continued to do. She had forgotten why she started fighting in the first place, forgotten how it felt to find Sasrutha’s beaten and broken body and to hold her brother as he died. She had seen so much anguish and strife everywhere, that for a moment, she was fooled into thinking that everyone suffered the same, that Iroh understood what needed to be done.
Everyone was suffering as a result of the war and the Fire Nation. But it was certainly not and never was the same.
No change, of course, happened through Iroh. So Achala spied, because she was a rising White Lotus agent for a reason, and tried not to think about her situation. She ignored the court, played the dutiful daughter- and sister-in-law, and tried to not think about how she felt about Iroh. She had a son with eyes as green as her brother’s, and though there was an insurmountable grief in her heart when she looked at him, Lu Ten was still the brightest part of her day. She had long cast away her beliefs, but a part of her wondered if Lu Ten was her brother reborn, and that part of her was selfishly grateful, if that was the case. She got a sister-in-law in Ursa, though not voluntarily, and then a nephew and niece as well.
And then, Ozai had played his hand. It was really her own fault, for getting too comfortable, for forgetting that Ozai, ever since she had come, was suspicious of her.
The choice was either stay to be executed for treason, or leave and never come back. While Achala knew that the Fire Lord liked her, he would certainly believe his son over her.
So she left. She wouldn’t do anyone favors, staying only to die. It would be worse for Lu Ten, she had thought, to see his mother killed as a traitor. It would be worse for Lu Ten if she died, because she had to work to end this war, and she couldn’t do that if she was dead. It would be worse for Lu Ten, because if she left, there was still a chance they could reunite.
So she left, for that small chance.
It didn’t make a difference in the end. Lu Ten had died first, and he couldn’t meet her ever again.
Achala thought that Iroh valued Lu Ten more. That was part of the reason she could leave in the first place, because for all his faults, Iroh did love Lu Ten, perhaps even as much as she did.
He—at least, the Iroh that Achala knew—would never have done anything to put Lu Ten in danger. So had he grown so arrogant that he thought he could take Ba Sing Se without much difficulty? Had he stopped caring about his son? Achala knew that Iroh could sacrifice the sons of others without batting an eye, but she had been banking on that parental selfishness to keep Lu Ten safe.
She should have known, though. She had once thought that Iroh could change some of the Fire Nation’s practices, and nothing had come of it. She shouldn’t have entrusted someone as precious as Lu Ten to him.
Maybe if Iroh had stayed with the nation he valued over everything else, Achala could live with what he had done. The little love she had for when he had just been Mushi would sour and turn bitter in her, just like everything else.
But no. Iroh felt sorry. He was sad that his son had died, and he wanted to make amends. Achala had wanted to scream when she was alerted that General Iroh had sought out the Order of the White Lotus in order to aid the anti-war effort. Because now? It was only now, after—no, because Lu Ten was killed that he realized what was wrong?
It felt like absolute bullshit. Iroh had known what was wrong with the Fire Nation for a long time, but he turned a blind eye to it all. Even before Achala had met him, he had known. He hid the secret of the dragons, after all.
It felt like a slight from the spirits. Lu Ten, like Sasrutha, had been spirit-blessed and had died much too young. But it was more than that. Achala, when she was younger and when she learned that human intervention would do nothing, used to pray to every spirit she knew that Iroh would stop pretending everything was fine, that he would actually work to end the war, that he would stop looking away.
Iroh wasn’t looking away now, but Achala had never wanted it to be at the cost of her son’s life. It should have never cost Lu Ten.
If she was with Guru Pathik or the other Grand Lotus, they’d tell her to let go of her hatred, to not hold onto it. It would not bring her son back, and it would not help her in the long run. If she had been strong enough to hold onto her beliefs, then maybe, just maybe , she could have done this and feel happy or at least content, for the first time in almost a decade.
Achala knew that once upon a time, letting go didn’t mean forgiveness or forgetting.
That was yet another thing that the Fire Nation took from her.
She gave in, in the end. Not because she saw the use of having Iroh in the organization, not because she thought he would actually change, but because there was nothing else of hers for the Fire Nation to take.
And perhaps, just maybe, she hoped that for the first time, she could take something from the Fire Nation in return.