Chapter Text
Lu-Ten
Ozai burned like all other men did.
It was Fire Nation custom to wear white when grieving. Lu-Ten did not grieve a tyrant, but it was expected of him to usher in the new era by closing the old one. He allowed his cousins to bear the mourning colors, bedecked in white and gold as their reviled father was reduced to ashes upon a pyre. Lu-Ten owed them that much. They had followed him into war and would now follow him into glory. As the smoke billowed and the Fire Sages halfheartedly chanted the funeral intonations to guide the Usurper to whatever hellish afterlife awaited him, Lu-Ten breathed in the scent of a new world arising from the ashes. Five days had passed since he won his throne; the days were little more than a disjointed blur that left him reeling from despair and drunk on victory in turns. He did not sleep. Partly due to the fact that the Fire Lord’s private chambers still reeked of Ozai. His restlessness was fueled by the dark beast that coiled on his neck whose insidious whispers never ceased. They had grown louder, Lu-Ten realized, as soon as Izon had sunk to the bottom of the sea. Lu-Ten could claw at his ears and still he would not know peace. He squinted his eyes shut, acutely aware of where the others stood around him. Zuko and Azula on one side, Lallo and Yaretzi on the other. The Fire Nation siblings were reticent and as still as stone. They were the epitome of Fire Nation grace and decorum. Zuko’s Water Tribe wife had refused to take part in the ceremony. As was her right, Lu-Ten thought. If she had chosen to spit on Ozai’s corpse then she would have been justified in doing so.
Izara’s primal gaze burned into his spine, mirroring the waves of heat that rolled off of Yaretzi even from where she stood. Yaretzi had spent more time with Lallo and Izara than she had with him, still boiling in rage over his actions during the overtaking of the city. She had spoken to him only once, after he followed her during the breakfast after the capital fell.
“I do not know you.” Yaretzi had hissed. “I do not know who you are, but you are not Lu-Ten. He would have never caused…this.” Her fists had clenched as if she was preparing to strike him, but the blow never came. “A part of me is dead. You took Izon from me. I am the one who failed him.” Neither Lallo nor Tenoch were able (or perhaps not willing) to placate her.
I did not want this to happen. But it had to be done, Lu-Ten rationalized. Izon’s loss tore a hole in him that could not be repaired. There was a sort of hollowness in his gut that was vast and hungry, threatening to pull him in until he imploded. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. Lu-Ten bit his bottom lip until he tasted copper.
One of the Fire Sages- the hastily appointed Chief of their cult- prodded at his uncle’s smoldering remains. “It is done,” he announced. “The Phoeni-” he caught Lu-Ten’s hot glare, “the Usurper Ozai’s remains will be interred in the Shrine of the Sacred Ancestors, as is Fire Nation custom. All Fire Lords, both renowned and infamous, are owed a place in the ancestral crypt. Such is the way of our nation.”
Lu-Ten scoffed. Ozai was undeserving of resting beside their esteemed ancestors. Yet he caught the Fire Sage’s meaning well enough. His uncle, usurper though he was, was still of the House of Sozin. He had been the recognized ruler of the Fire Nation for over two decades. As Tenoch and Dejen would remind him, certain sacrifices had to be made. He watched as the priests swept the ashes into an unmarked urn and covered it with a silken burgundy cloth. It would be easy, he said to himself, to simply wrench the vase from the man’s hands and dash it onto the ground. But truly what purpose would it serve? Ozai was dead, struck down by the hand of a teenage girl, while Lu-Ten yet lived to claim what was rightfully his. He straightened his spine as the clergymen arranged themselves in a rigid line, chanting incessantly and swinging their fragrant censers. Their steps were shuffling and desultory, as if they were simply passing through the motions for the sake of custom. Lu-Ten as Ozai’s successor followed them. He was trailed by his queen and then his younger relatives while Lallo took his place at the rear. This is how it must be. For all that Lu-Ten wished to have his closest friend at his side, Lallo’s rank within the royal family was tenuous. He would hold no titles except for those that Lu-Ten would give him. Lu-Ten considered it. It was within his right to name Lallo as a royally appointed governor or administrator of an island like Kheosho or Saowan. Perhaps even the Spearhead Atoll. There remained the matter of Zuko and Azula, whom Lu-Ten could not allow to run about unsupervised. Yet they also had an obligation to their House. All must serve.
He considered it as he walked. The Queen of Arakem had appointed her siblings as regional governors as well as spymasters. Azula would prove useful. If he could trust her.
Well enough. Should she conspire against him, then she would stare down a dragon’s throat. Izara was not his to command, nor was she particularly inclined to violence, but she would bear no hesitancy in protecting Yaretzi. Who was to say that perhaps Azula misstepped and Izara assumed she was endangering the Fire Lady? An unfortunate event surely, but the era of kin harming kin was meant to be behind them. It would be justified. I am only doing what is necessary. I’m only doing what is right.
The Shrine of the Sacred Ancestors was a secluded cloister that had seen entire dynasties rise and fall. It predated the first Sozin and his father, and his father’s father. Zuko, a seemingly unfailing fountain of knowledge, explained that the shrine was built by a god. Or demigod. Lu-Ten couldn’t remember. Upon looking up, he could believe it. He paused, awestruck by the red-streaked marble columns draped in vibrant green vines. They coiled around the stone and lined the entrance of the crypt. Some feet away was the shrine cut from obsidian and basalt. Upon the upraised pedestal was a marble statue of a woman holding the sun to her breast. Amaterasu, the solar spirit god, who was said to be the sister and lover of the chief spirit-god Agni. Clutching the hem of her dress and clustered at her feet were kneeling children. It was not so different from Citlali, Lu-Ten mused. But where the Mother of Dragons and Keeper of Stars exuded maternal warmth, Amaterasu carried the energy of martial, almost possessive, protection. Her features were soft but her eyes, though they were made of stone, they were carved with uncanny watchfulness. One goddess would nurture her children. The other would kill for them, many times over. Such was the difference between the Sun People and the firebenders of the archipelago.
The ziggurat temple in the jungle of the Sun People came to mind. The entrance sloped down into the waiting belly of the burial ground while the ceiling stretched higher into arches that reminded Lu-Ten of a man’s ribcage. There was no natural light to guide them, only flickering lanterns set in recesses in the walls. Simultaneously Azula and Yaretzi ignited their palms. One flame was blue while the other carried shades of pink. The two young women glanced at each other, sharing a look that Lu-Ten did not quite understand. The fire cast long distorted shadows against the walls and the low humming of the Fire Sages caused Lu-Ten to grit his teeth. The air was cold and yet somehow impossibly hot, causing him to tug at his collar. The others were seemingly unaffected. Their footsteps echoed. The small effigies in the walls were watching him. Watching, watching. Whispering amongst themselves. Lu-Ten forced his breathing to slow. He was never one for dark, confined spaces. For that reason he was reluctant to enter the temples during the early years of his childhood. It always came naturally to his adoptive siblings. Their mother was a priestess after all; they had known the secrets of the dragons even while they were in their mother’s womb. Lu-Ten had clung to Tuwa’s legs until she peeled him off with an exasperated huff. Moema would taunt him while Lallo would coax him further. It was a fear that took long to conquer.
The names of hundreds of Fire Lords were etched on the walls. Lu-Ten traced them with the pad of his fingers, trying to picture how they must have been. Was Izanai tall and gracile, or was he a stocky natural born soldier? Was Zeisara equitable, or was she brutally efficient? Ichiko was beautiful, he decided, and Sozin the Third was noble to the core. “These are our ancestors. This…is my family?” The dragonlord spoke with boyish wonder.
Half concealed in the dim light Azula rolled her eyes. “If you are my uncle’s son.” Under her breath she muttered “stupid.”
“Princess. Don’t antagonize your cousin, dear.” Lallo snarked. “Especially during such a solemn event and most importantly in such a holy space. I shan’t curse your cousin’s rule by committing sacrilege.”
The court priests were wise to ignore the exchange.
Lu-Ten bristled but held his tongue. He would suffer the snide mutterings from the Avatar and her crippled brother, and the harsh whispers of his army, but Lallo danced too close. Don’t fail me as well, brother. I beg of you. Lallo’s betrayal would be ruinous. Unforgivable. Unthinkable. Unless he had already been poisoned by those who sought to displace him? Of course not. They were brothers. Lu-Ten forced a smile of brittle mirth. “I am my father’s son as much as you are your father’s daughter.”
Azula did not challenge him. She squared her jaw and continued after the Fire Sages with her elder brother in her shadow. The quintet descended further into the mausoleum (which was much larger than Lu-Ten had envisioned) where at last they came to a halt at a deep-cut curved enclave. A sarcophagus in the shape of a coiled dragon rested within. The lid was askew. Lu-Ten’s breath hitched.
There were four ornate urns already lining the inside of the sarcophagus. Upon each was a gold plate with flowing calligraphy. He read the inscriptions. Names, Lu-Ten realized. Just as the others. But none of them carried the title of Fire Lord. There was no Sozin or Azulon- they slept elsewhere within the subterranean vault. The first was Fire Lady Ilah, his grandmother. The second was Sora, tucked carefully beside the other. A cold finger dragged down Lu-Ten’s spine. My mother. He tried and failed to swallow the lump forming on his throat. She had been tall, he knew, but had she loved him? Did she sing lullabies and whisper affirmations of his greatness while he slept in his crib? Did she and his father watch over him fondly while his grandfather Azulon, not yet burdened with unsoundness of mind, rocked him in his arms? The third urn was larger. Prince Iroh, the plaque read, Prince of the Fire Nation. His father. The man who was destined to be the next Fire Lord before his uncle betrayed him. A man who had sought to make their nation prosperous without forcing their way through doors they were not meant to enter, and instead they had called him a turncoat. Lu-Ten’s hands trembled.
“I loved my brother once.”
“Mother, Father…I’m home.” The words came as a strained whisper.
“You were the joy of my life. I would've given up my crown if I could have watched you and raised you. I would have given up everything just to have you safe with me.”
“I loved my brother once.”
“I would have given up everything just to have you safe with me.”
“I pray that you will be the man that we all wish for you to be.”
The tears that ran down his face were hot and unending. Lu-Ten shook his head vehemently to dispel the voices and incomprehensible static noise. He heard his father, and Yaretzi, and the sneer of his uncle. He heard the crackle of fire. He heard screams that did not cease.
Yaretzi’s touch on his shoulder grounded him. Her face displayed concern. There was no forgiveness to be seen, nor unconditional love as there once had been. Just sympathy. “You are here,” his wife’s reassurance was for his ears alone, “not…in that dark place. You are here.”
I’m here. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
From the corner of his eye, he noted that Zuko and his sister stood paralyzed. Lu-Ten tore himself free from the despairing abyss and returned to the present. The fourth funerary vase was painted orange and white, with swirls of flame leaping from a raptor’s claws. It was new compared to the others, not yet possessing a thin coat of dust. The name plate bore the mark of a small fire lily.
Ursa.
His aunt’s remains were placed with the rest of their family. He had assumed that Ozai discarded his whore of a wife just as he did with the others he killed over the years. Their love was not worthy of songs (corrupted souls attracted corrupted souls) but no one could say that the bitch queen had not orchestrated or been complicit in the most heinous of her monstrous husband’s misdeeds. She was the knife in the dark. Lu-Ten observed his cousins. Zuko studied the floor. Azula stared blankly at the urn. Lu-Ten never deigned to question the princess of her relationship with her mother. Ursa had shielded her hatchlings from the worst of Ozai’s mania for the first years of their childhood. While I slept under stars that were not my own.
The Chief Fire Sage set the cremains in the hollow of the sarcophagus, next to the relatives that he had crossed in life. “May the spirit-gods weigh his soul. His flame has at last been extinguished.”
“His flame has at last been extinguished.” The other Sages echoed him as he sealed the stone dragon, enclosing the deceased members of the House of Sozin within. “Now we return to the living. The sun has risen on a new reign. The Usurper is dead.”
“Go on without me,” Lu-Ten ordered. “I would like to remain here. Alone. The names of my predecessors are unknown to me, I hope to at least learn some of them.” His brows twitched as Yaretzi hesitated, balancing her weight on her toes. He sighed. “Please.”
Lu-Ten turned slowly on his heel, taking in the minute details of the catacombs under the Shrine. Neither Amaterasu nor Citlali held dominion here, not in the darkness. The sun did not shine on dead men. He ran his hands over the wall. “You have a grandson, Father. I have a son, Mother. Another Sozin,” he chuckled. “I…could not bring myself to name him after you. The name didn’t suit him nor his destiny. A fortune teller told me that he would be the next Morningstar. I just hope that he is a greater man than me.” Lu-Ten blinked rapidly. He could hear the fading scrape of boots as the others retreated to the surface. “And you, Grandfather.”
After a few long minutes of silence, he prepared to exit. His breath appeared in white clouds before he warmed his blood with subtle firebending. Almost impulsively he turned back to the tomb of his kin. Lu-Ten smiled sharply.
“Goodbye, Uncle.”
He spat.
Azula, Zuko, and the Fire Sages were absent when Lu-Ten exited the Shrine. He found Yaretzi seated on the pedestal of the statue of Amaterasu with her arms hugging her knees to her chest. Lallo was close by. “I hope you found what you needed, brother.” The Sun Warrior made a gesture for Lu-Ten to walk in front of him. He extended his hand to his sister. “And you, Fire Lady. The messenger hawk from Bishara should fly in any hour now.”
The arrival of the ship from the Estival Peninsula was delayed by efforts to clear the wreckage left behind by the Fire God’s Prophet. Soldiers had transformed into laborers, using their earthbending and firebending to move and meld. The Avatar’s crippled brother spent most of his time in the lower parts of the city, accompanied by his fellow Tribesmen, sketching possible reconstructed architectural designs. The Avatar, Princess Yue, and Yaretzi were collaborating on an effort to provide temporary housing and other necessities for the displaced residents. The Air Nomad and Yaretzi flew tirelessly from the palace to the hastily constructed shelters with foodstuffs and supplies. Five days could only amount to so much, but their work was valiant all the same.
For the first time Yaretzi genuinely appeared happy. “I do not need to wait. Izara and I will leave immediately.” Her cheeks flushed with excitement. For a moment, when she looked at Lu-Ten, he saw the beautiful young woman who idolized him, who would burn men alive for him, who bore his son, and the only person he truly loved. She was not the jaded priestess that he had forcefully created by his actions. “We are going to see our son.”
Lallo seemed to exhale in relief. “A real Fire Nation Prince makes a grand entrance on a dragon’s back. Never mind the fact that he can’t walk yet. Go on,” he waved his hands, “bring the little hatchling home. I’ll make sure Princess Azula doesn’t burn the place down.” There was a mocking lilt in his tone, just innocuous enough that it could be excused as familial teasing. “These halls will be blithe and blissful.”
Yaretzi was gone before Lu-Ten could formulate a response. With a fleeting glance back at Lallo, Lu-Ten tore after her. His heart sang with a long-awaited glee. Sozin. His heir. His son. “Our son,” he whispered aloud. Yaretzi had already reached Izara and was scrambling onto the dragon’s back. Lu-Ten had an inkling of a feeling that she would have left without him had he not moved quickly enough.
His approach was stalled by Izara’s warning growl. The she-dragon swiveled her serpentine head. Yaretzi stared down at him from her place on Izara’s back. She did not extend her hand. Priestess and dragoness seemed to judge him as one entity. Lu-Ten cautiously reached up. Izara did not devour him, which he took as a good sign, and Yaretzi did not glare at him, which he took as a better one. After a moment’s pause Izara lowered her left shoulder to accept him.
While it did not quite feel unnatural, it felt strange to be on Izara’s back. Izon’s mind had been in accord with his own. Izara was not his to claim. She had never truly been at ease in his presence. He was no dragonkeeper. Not like Yaretzi, who could charm and enchant the dragons and speak to each one as if they were her kin. Izara flapped her wings. The muscles in her hind legs coiled and released, thrusting her skyward. She churned her wings to gain altitude as she rose above the highest pagodas of the Fire Nation palace.
The city below had a black scar cutting through the center- a remnant of the sheer force of the Fire God’s Prophet and Izon’s breath. To the west Lu-Ten saw the Avatar’s Air Nomad companion upon her flying bison. The saddle was laden with crates of goods and gold from the Crown’s treasury. The Usurper, for all his numerous faults, had made fiscally sound policies that made the Fire Nation rich for generations to come. He was good for something, Lu-Ten thought sourly. It would take months- years- to rebuild the lower quadrant of the city. The efforts were well underway. I did this.
Yaretzi was arrow-rigid. Her unbound hair fluttered in the wind. Lu-Ten dared to put a hand on her waist. She did not flinch nor did she lean into him as she once had. His wife steered Izara to the coastline, where the most damage had occurred. There were still piles of rubble and debris to be removed. Others would be repurposed in some fashion or another.
They flew beyond the warships that closed around the caldera. A flagship carrying a black and red dragon banner floated a mile away from the others, proud against the skyline. Izara let out a trill. She tucked her wings and fell into a spiraling barrel roll. Yaretzi shared her excitement in a giddy outburst. Lu-Ten clung to her tightly as Izara set her sights on the flagship’s deck. A number of figures appeared from within the belly of the ship, craning their heads in awe. The details of their features grew increasingly clear with every foot of their descent. The sailors on the deck scattered with cries of “dragon!” as Izara outstretched her legs to land.
Izara’s hind claws latched onto the railing of the ship’s hull, her wings causing ocean spray to soak the deck. Had she been any larger, Lu-Ten did not doubt that the vessel would have capsized. Perhaps one day she would surpass Izon and grow as large as Ran and Shaw. The onlookers gazed up at her in unconcealed awe. They were all from the Estival Peninsula, Lu-Ten knew, but the sight of a dragon in the flesh was a breathtaking experience time and time again. The topside men were a blend of Peninsular civilians, Arakemeti soldiers, and earthbenders from the outskirts of the Estival Peninsula’s territory. Lu-Ten spotted Sigei and the Water Tribesman’s sworn warrior, alongside a number of dogs. Izara leaned over the railing to allow Yaretzi and Lu-Ten to dismount before launching back into the sky to circle overhead.
Lu-Ten saw that his wife was trembling. He held her steady as Sigei and Tsigereda approached. The two of them were unscathed from the horrific battles that the others endured since leaving SunWatch. They wore white linen breeches and pale green shirts- the colors of their nation. In her arms Tsigereda cradled a cat.
Yaretzi let out a girlish cry. “Tozi!” The calico feline wriggled and sprang free from Tsigereda’s grasp. She landed at Yaretzi’s feet, purring loudly as she weaved in between her owner’s legs. The priestess’s grin was broad and bright. She scooped Tozi into her arms and scratched between her ears before turning again to Tsigereda and Sigei. Her apprehension was palpable. “A-and Sozin?”
Lu-Ten spun on his heel at the sound of a woman’s giggle.
“Here.” Bishara stepped forward from where she had been nestled behind Sigei and two other soldiers. She wore a pristine white dress with long, billowing sleeves which she used to shield the head of a plump dark haired baby. “This one doesn’t sleep when he hears pretty women talking. Or dragons for that matter.” She uncovered the child’s head, causing him to babble and kick his legs. His left hand gripped her braids. Bishara winced. “Yes, I see them too, little dragon. But you’ve got to let me go!” Sozin squealed and drooled, attempting to throw himself in Yaretzi’s direction.
Tozi, understandably, was forgotten. Yaretzi rushed to pull Sozin into her arms, his downy hair dark from his mother’s stream of tears. Lu-Ten watched as his wife reunited with their son, peppering his cheeks with unending kisses. A knot formed in his chest. His throat constricted.
I will destroy the world and create it anew for you.
Their son was of crawling age, and Bishara had reported that he already showed promise of being an early firebender. Lu-Ten saw himself in his son’s face, save for the curve of his nose. His satin-soft skin was darker than his own though not Yaretzi’s lovely copper. Lu-Ten stared at him. He was perfect.
I will clear every rock in your path no matter how large. I promise.
“Sozin. Sozin. Sozin,” Yaretzi repeated his name like a holy mantra. She clutched him to her breast and swayed on her feet. Her fingers ran over his cheeks and eyelashes, counting every finger and toe. “My Sozin.” At last she turned to Lu-Ten and presented their son to him as if he was the greatest treasure. Lu-Ten nervously drew closer and opened his hands to receive his son.
He’s the only good thing to come from me. He ruined all that he touched, he raged at shadows haunting the corners of his vision, but this…Lu-Ten found his hands shaking. Yaretzi held him steady, for once on the same accord. She winced at the baby’s iron hold on her hair, having traded Bishara’s braid for his mother’s. Sozin looked up at him with round eyes that were golden-tinged brown and a gummy smile that exposed three teeth. Lu-Ten found himself sweating. He took an impulsive step back. “Yaretzi, I can’t. He’s too…” Fragile? Too pure? Too unlike him? If he touched him then Sozin would be sullied like everything else. I’ll ruin him.
Yaretzi leaned forward until her lips brushed the shell of his ear. “He is your son.”
He was the greatest thing that she had ever given him.
She did not forgive him, Lu-Ten knew, nor did she fully trust him. Lu-Ten shook his head vehemently, pleading silently even as Yaretzi positioned his hands to hold Sozin. Her fingers were warm. The baby whimpered. His bottom lip began to tremble. “He doesn’t want me.” He knows he knows he knows—
Lu-Ten stepped away.
All smiles faded.
The color drained from Yaretzi’s countenance, leaving her expression shattered and stricken. She pulled Sozin closer. Lu-Ten could not find the words. Tsigereda, Sigei, and Bishara stared at him with blank, indecipherable gazes. Lu-Ten wished that the inferno had swallowed him just as it had Izon. When she looked at him once again, he was met by irises that were as hard and sharp and black as obsidian. Sozin peered up at him.
Yaretzi rose to her full height (which was not very impressive) and exhaled. She did not speak. Instead she turned away from him and retreated to the cabins of the ship, trailed by her cat.
Tsigereda looked from Lu-Ten to Yaretzi and cast nervous glances at Bishara and Sigei. She fled after the dragonkeeper in a blur of white and green.
Bishara, the most savvy of the three, made a peace making gesture. Lu-Ten could see her struggling and failing to find the words to fill the tense silence. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Maybe it’s best you stay with us rather than fly back with her.” The earthbender winced. “You should leave her alone for now.”
“Yeah…” Sigei dragged his words, “I think so too.”
Lu-Ten’s mind reeled. A thousand voices screeched at him. He resisted the urge to cover his ears. He wanted to cry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
Yaretzi arrived before they did. By the time the flagship was moored at the port, Izara had reached the walls of the palace. They entered on uni-horses without fanfare. Lu-Ten found Izara perched on the roof of an administrative building while a crowd formed in the courtyard at the entrance. Servants and allies alike gathered to witness the arrival of the newest Prince, dozing while strapped to his mother’s chest. The Avatar and the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe were counted amongst their number. It struck Lu-Ten that they were all astonishingly young. Barely across the line that divided adulthood and childhood. Scarred, weary children. Sozin could be their nephew, or baby brother.
Lu-Ten was awarded only the most perfunctory acknowledgement. Even Lallo greeted him coolly before turning back to the new queen and his nephew. The new Fire Lord found himself nudged aside.
Katara, the Avatar, squeezed between her crippled brother and the Banka-Kadian thief, beaming and nearly vibrating with excitement. “He’s so big!” She gushed as Yaretzi passed Sozin to her. The Avatar accepted the sleeping baby with the utmost care. She moved so that those close to her could catch a glimpse of the Fire Lord’s heir, angling him so that Yue and all the other girls could coo over him. The young woman possessed a greater confidence in holding children than most, Lu-Ten noted, and he recalled that the royal family of the Water Tribes were more than just leaders. They were an integral part of their community. He had no doubt that she had held many newborns in the South Pole.
Azula surreptitiously sidestepped. Her movement led to Prince Zuko calling her name. The firebending princess halted and glared. “I don’t want to see it.”
Yaretzi did not take offense, or perhaps she did not catch Azula’s choice of words. “He is your kin, Princess.
“You’ve never even held a baby.” Zuko furrowed his brow.
Azula scoffed. “Because they are boring and they smell.” She paused and took a second look at her young cousin, eyeing him with generalized disdain. She ran the tip of her nail over Sozin’s cheek, as if testing his tangibility. Just as quickly she wiped her hands. “That one might not be so bad.”
“I knew you had a heart,” her brother teased. “It’s just shriveled and cold.”
Tenoch, as seemed to be his custom, intervened before the siblings could bicker. “The young prince is much too young to have his sleep disturbed by childish antics and useless spats. It is best that he joins little Rokuro in the nursery.”
Ah. Lu-Ten had forgotten about the whimpering little son of the Usurper’s most faithful advisor. Lallo was adamant about caring for him until the boy’s uncles came to claim him. Lu-Ten remained ambivalent in regards to the boy’s existence. A baby would never be harmed, and children were not guilty of their father’s sins. Yet he would extend no love nor effort for the child. Yaretzi and Lallo and Yue were free to coddle him as they wished. Spirits knew that he needed it. At least he is too young to remember his family’s demise. His mother, father, and sister died from ritual suicide rather than face the Fire Lord’s wrath.
I would have spared them. The wife and the children at least. They were guilty of no wrongdoing.
Katara passed Sozin back to his mother. A ring of girls closed around her. Lu-Ten deflated at the blatant disregard of his presence. Even Lallo vanished with Bishara, once again attached to his treasured earthbender. It was to be expected, he rationalized. Sozin was the future. And everyone loved babies.
It left him with his cousins, who were two sides of the same gold coin, and a stern-faced Tenoch. Zuko’s countenance was twisted in a strange grimace of awkward sympathy. Lu-Ten mused absently that there were few things that Zuko did not do awkwardly. His wife didn’t seem to mind, rolling her eyes in exasperation at his jokes and well-intentioned gestures of kindness.
“I take it that your reunion with Sozin did not go as expected.” Tenoch’s tone was carefully neutral. “What did you do?”
Shame flooded him. “Tenoch, I didn’t mean to!” But my hands are dirty. I just meant to protect him. “I reacted poorly. And now Yaretzi has shunned me. She hates me.”
Zuko twitched his remaining brow. “That’s rough.”
Tenoch shot a warning glance at the younger man. “Walk with me, Lu-Ten.” He beckoned his son-by-law with a come-hither motion.
The Fire Lord, in spite of the fact that he was a man grown, obeyed. Tenoch walked slowly but not without purpose. His hands were clasped behind his back. The years and wars had begun to wear on him; it was evident in the way his shoulders stooped and subtle lag in his gait. He led Lu-Ten through the halls, passing and winding through the inner corridors. The only sound was the click of their boots over the freshly polished tile. The interior was too dark, Lu-Ten thought. Too oppressive. Hodan’s court was bright and full of people, where gemstones were embedded in the walls and sparkled in the sunlight. SunWatch was breezy and warm.
After a moment’s pause Lu-Ten realized that Tenoch had led him to a garden. It was one of over a dozen, according to Zuko. The Phoenix Queen had loved to carefully curate open spaces and create themed, secluded gardens. This one was rather muted. The flowers were dark violet and deep burgundy, and the azalea shrubs clustered to form an impenetrable thicket. A fledgling peach tree grew in the center. Its fruit was small and misshapen.
Tenoch knelt to pick up a fallen shriveled fruit. He rolled it between his fingers ponderously. “This tree is still young,” he said, “and has not yet dug its roots too deep to be moved. This is most likely its first time bearing fruit. It’s ugly, no?” He extended the peach to Lu-Ten. “All things are ugly in the beginning.”
Lu-Ten snorted. “I don’t want to hear any of your riddles, Tenoch. Don’t preach to me about fruit.”
The elder sighed. “The rest of the Order always say that you young people are always in so much of a hurry. Now I wonder what Tuwa was teaching you back then. Fine. I am saying that this tree was given room to grow and to fail before blossoming. Mayhaps we put too much on you too soon. We should have given you more time to grow, or have chosen another. Prince Zuko was also slow to flourish.”
The younger firebender bristled. “Are you saying Zuko would be a better Fire Lord than me?”
Reflexively the Sun Warrior groaned. “What I am saying is that Prince Zuko has undergone a similar journey to you. He lived in the shadow of a destiny that was pressed upon him. He was meant to be the next Phoenix King and follow in his father’s footsteps. It was all he knew, and all he wanted to know. Ishragha once compared him to a lump of coal. But his father exposing his true nature, and his time away from the Fire Nation made him malleable and receptive to change. Both of you were born under immense pressure. But where you differ, son, is that Prince Zuko has taken that pressure and pushed back against it. He realized that he did not want to be the man that his father molded him to be. He was burned for it, but still he persisted.” Tenoch pressed the peach into Lu-Ten’s hand and curled his fingers around it. “The time has come for you to do the same. Now you must ask yourself: Am I the man I want to be?”
I want to be Yaretzi’s husband. I want to be the Fire Lord. I want to be Sozin’s father. I want to be greater than all my predecessors. I want to be a god.
———
The Temple of the Rising Sun was nearing completion. It would be some weeks yet, but Lu-Ten hoped that he would be crowned under the same roof as his ancestors. Messenger hawks had flown to all reaches of the archipelago, summoning noblemen and commoners alike to witness the coronation ceremony of the newest Fire Lord. Yaretzi remained cold to him, preferring to surround herself with the other young women occupying the palace. Lu-Ten saw Sozin only briefly from the cradle of his mother’s arms.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Lallo had said. “She is just…disillusioned.”
“What do you suggest I do to apologize, cousin?” Lu-Ten threw a glance over his shoulder.
Zuko grimaced as he trailed Lu-Ten, unable to offer much sympathy. He plodded behind Lu-Ten through the brightly lit corridors leading to the administrative complex to discuss the imminent departure of most of the Arakemeti forces. It was better to keep his cousin close, Lu-Ten thought, especially after his conversation with Tenoch. He will not supplant me as his bastard father did. I will burn the Fire Nation to the ground before I see him on my throne. Had he not suffered and sacrificed enough? The younger man scratched the back of his neck. “…maybe give her flowers?”
Lu-Ten let out a deriding snort. “Of course. There must be a well-versed horticulturist somewhere amongst the palace staff. Or did your father hang him as well?” He could feel Zuko’s amber glare. “Does Princess Yue speak to you about her? They have become rather…close.” They were married into the same family after all.
His younger cousin contemplated his response. “Not really. Girls are weird. It’s like they have their own secret language.”
Princess Yue was as politely courteous as one would expect. Their brief conversations were curt. She did not object when he requested to pet her polar dog, whom she had named after a Water Tribe spirit-god, and it relieved Lu-Ten that at least one animal didn’t hiss or bare its teeth when he approached. Beyond that Lu-Ten had little to say to her. He had offered her freedom and she chose instead to remain. She was useful, he knew, and dangerous in her own way. Some women were warriors, like Azula and the Avatar, and others were weavers. Yue was a pretty little spider; she had endured Ozai until she drove a dagger through his heart. Lu-Ten made a non-committal sound in his throat.
“The palace used to be a warlord’s fortress,” Zuko launched into a long-winded explanation of the many gates and towers and walls built around the keep and its myriad of gardens. Lu-Ten resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Apparently he built it to resemble the sun and its rays—”
“That is very nice, cousin, but I do not care to know every intricacy of our household’s architectural history. Save your vast knowledge for Sozin and tutor your future Fire Lord when he’s old enough.” Lu-Ten swallowed his irritation. Of course Zuko would know these things. He had grown up surrounded by their history. It was expected of him to be an exemplary Crown Prince.
After passing through the open air path from the interior keep to the stately offices, they arrived at the building where the elders of the White Lotus and the highest commanders of the Arakemeti earthbenders awaited them. Lu-Ten could hear the din of voices from within, interspersed with laughter and mirth. Zuko halted behind him. For a moment he considered letting his cousin enter first. It would not dampen the mood so quickly. Just as quickly he decided against it. Lu-Ten was cognizant of the fact that many found Zuko more palatable, with his gawky charm and familiar face, but Zuko was not the Fire Lord. Zuko was nothing and would have nothing had it not been for Lu-Ten’s goodwill. I am a benevolent and merciful man.
He was met by an expectant hush. The most decorated First Spears sat closest to the elders of the White Lotus, sipping on coffee or tea.
“Fire Lord Lu-Ten. Prince Zuko.” Lady Sagal’s tone was carefully measured. “Lord Dejen was just finalizing our plans. He has told me that your coronation will take place soon. The time has come for us to return to Arakem.”
Zuko nudged Lu-Ten. “My mom always said you should say thank you,” he whispered. “It might be a good time.”
“Queen Hodan has been very gracious.” Lu-Ten bowed. “And my gratitude cannot be expressed. I could not have come so far without your support and sacrifice.” He could feel Owiti’s condemnatory stare. Gakere and Chele joined him. “It saddens me to see you leave, but it is my hope that Arakem and the Fire Nation will forge a bond that extends beyond our generation. Perhaps in the future we might see a daughter of Arakem as a Fire Lady, or a son of the Fire Nation as a royal consort. When all is settled, I will invite Queen Hodan to visit the Fire Nation so we can finally sit as equals.” He saw Dejen nod in approval.
Owiti rolled his eyes. “It appears that the Dragon King must learn to stand on his own without the sons and daughters of Arakem supporting him.” He laid his hand flat on the table, revealing his jeweled rings. Chele and Gakere snickered. The three of them were like a three-headed desertdog, teeth bared in mocking smiles.
"Yes," said Chele, "there'll be no more support from our spears."
"Our earthbending will not shield him." Gakere bared his teeth.
Neither Sagal nor Dejen corrected him. Sagal invited Lu-Ten and Zuko to sit. “It is my understanding that the Avatar and her brother will stay to witness the ceremony. I would expect the Avatar to do so. It is her duty to ensure that all nations exist in harmony.”
Harmony.
The word struck a chord in Lu-Ten, triggering a memory that had been lost in the haze of recent events. His uncle had been driven by the desire to transcend mortality and to reach for the power of the gods by sacrificing his son and a dragon to initiate a new Harmonic Convergence. Harmony. The word sank its claws into Lu-Ten’s mind, drowning out the conversations around him. It felt complete. It felt right. He remained seated even after the meeting with the First Spears adjourned, stirred only by the feel of Dejen shaking his shoulder.
“Lu-Ten,” Dejen prompted. “There are still things to be done.” He bore a queer expression. “Are you well, Your Grace?”
Lu-Ten shook himself from his stupor. “Yes,” he mumbled absently, “I agree.” The chair toppled as he stood too quickly. Exhilaration flooded through him and Lu-Ten found himself unable to halt his thoughts. “Zuko, what is a Harmonic Convergence?”
Zuko froze where he stood. He searched Lu-Ten’s countenance before replying. “Why?”
Ah. So he knows.
Dejen hovered over them. Lu-Ten offered a noncommittal shrug. “Something I heard in passing,” he said, “I merely thought that you might have read about it at some point or another.”
His younger cousin ground his teeth, trying and failing to maintain a neutral stance. “It was one of my father’s interests.” His tone was curt and laden with suspicion.
Lu-Ten hummed. “Don’t fret, cousin. It was just a passing thought.”
The others ate dinner without him, but he was not offended. Lu-Ten instead chose to practice firebending katas alone. The undulating forms of the Sun Warriors did not come so naturally as they once had, and he found himself stumbling as if he was a little boy. Twice he spun and twice he fell. His golden streams of flame were not so bright nor so fierce. He let out a growl of frustration.
The firebender slipped into the Dancing Dragon form and channeled his inner peace, yet instead he was struck by an overwhelming sense of unease. His feet crossed, causing his chin to smash against the concrete. Lu-Ten tasted blood. Cursing aloud, he punched out a flash of fire. His heart sank in dismay. It was little more than sparks. Lu-Ten let out a wordless shout. He lashed out and from his fingers came a stream of fire that blazed across the courtyard, stoked by his anger and frustration. Every time he tried to perform a Sun Warrior dance, his bending was weak and his movement uncoordinated.
He could almost see Tuwa in the corner of his eye, shaking her head as her lip curled in disdain. “I didn’t raise you to be this. Tenochizun and Citlali have turned their backs on you. You are no longer one of us. After all I’ve done to steer you on the right path and now you’re lost.”
But I am, he argued. I am that and more. I’m not lost.
He was the Fire Lord, he was a Sun Warrior. He was the pinnacle of his father and grandfather’s bloodline. Let his son be the Morningstar. Lu-Ten would be the Sun.
Lu-Ten was not sure how long he stayed outside alone, working through various training circuits with rebellious vigor. The stars were his only companion. Although he could not see her, Lu-Ten knew that Izara was somewhere close by. Most likely roosting with the Air Nun’s flying bison while the Avatar’s leopard-caribou slept in another cloister. He began to move in desperation as his firebending grew weaker until it was little more than puffs of smoke. I’m not lost, he chanted, I’m not. His legs were a bruised purple. His knuckles bled. But he couldn’t firebend. He couldn’t—
Panic dragged its fingers down his spine, constricting his throat until he couldn’t breathe. The world closed around him. A camelephant sat on his chest.
Long shadows stretched over the dim corridors, revealing vile beasts at every turn. Lu-Ten crashed into walls, frantically running his hands along them to find his way. It was winding and unending, each corner leading to a dead end. Doors opened and a dozen voices called his name. He flew past them all, skirting a corner that led to one of the royal family’s private quarters. He sought the apartments of the last Fire Lady, his grandmother, which had remained vacant since her passing. His aunt had always shared her husband’s bed. The Fire Lord was driven by frenzied distress, leading him to bang on one of the doors until his fist ached. Boot steps followed behind. Lu-Ten knocked harder.
Yaretzi leaned on the threshold, expression clouded by exhaustion. Her hair fell about her shoulders in disheveled waves. The priestess immediately became alert upon recognizing him. “Lu-Ten?”
His name barely left her lips before he stepped into the room, dropping to his knees at her feet. Lu-Ten clung to her legs. “I can’t firebend, Yaretzi, I can’t firebend.” She laid at hand on top of his head. Lu-Ten held onto her as if she was an anchor and he was being thrown at sea.
For several long moments his wife did not speak. Her touch did not hold the warmth of devotion. Yaretzi tilted his chin until he was looking up at her. “Because you are not Lu-Ten.” The sentence struck him like an arrow to the chest. “You are not the boy that my mother raised. Nor are you the man that I love, and for whom I bore a son for. Nor the man for whom I have borne the burden of protecting you from your own actions.” She leaned down and suddenly Lu-Ten did not recognize her. “The turmoil within you can only be overcome by your own strength.”
The dragonlord gaped, feeling his hands fall free until he sank to the floor at Yaretzi’s bare feet and she did not stoop to help him.
“If you look for the light, then you will find it. But if you only search for darkness, then that is all you will ever see. There is still light in you. But you must find it.” His wife blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to stop the tears. “I cannot…I cannot save you. Not from them, not from yourself.” Yaretzi shook her head as if to dislodge a dark thought. “Now please, Lu-Ten, leave me alone.”
Anger and sorrow waged a war in his heart. He was not sure which one emerged victorious, only that his gaze hardened just as hers had. Yaretzi did not flinch nor did she flee.
“Please,” she repeated. “Not now.”
Lu-Ten rose, towering over her as he always had, and opened his arms like a child begging for his mother’s touch. Yaretzi denied him.
She hates me.
Why did she not understand? Why did none of them understand? His firebending was weak for now, until he could ascend to greatness. My uncle had the right of it. The only way to truly bring prosperity to the world is to guide them. My firebending will return. I know it. I don’t need to find the light. I am the light. Sozin deserved a worthy father. Sozin deserved the world, and Lu-Ten could not give it to him as a mortal man. Yaretzi did not look at him. All would work out in the end, Lu-Ten swore. Izon’s sacrifice had not been in vain. They would understand in time. The Avatar would agree with him. Balance was the key, and Lu-Ten would hold the scale.
Yaretzi called his name as he left. It was his turn to ignore her, striding away from her with renewed vigor, driven by the mania of insomnia. His steps were more sure. A calmness fell over him. The tangle of voices and sounds in his mind hushed.
He made his way to his own temporary chambers, not far from where Yaretzi slept. Lu-Ten threw the door open and staggered inside. He had the confidence of a self-assured drunkard. Dancing dragons swooped and dipped on the edges of his vision. The room was as he had left it. Its colors were austere red and black, as equally oppressive as it was comforting.
The rooms were not as large as the others, which led Lu-Ten to think that it might have been the personal chambers of a royal family member who ranked low on the order of succession. Most likely a little brother or younger sister who stood to inherit nothing, relegated to the less desirable rooms. For now Lu-Ten did not mind it. He moved further into the bedroom. There was a standing mirror in the corner, next to a table that held a lacquered box of grooming supplies. Lu-Ten opened it slowly, taking note of gold combs and gem encrusted hair brushes. He raised one of the hair brushes to the light.
Lu-Ten studied himself in the mirror. His topknot made his face appear even more severe than it was, accentuating his angular cheekbones and narrow eyes ringed by the dark circles of sleeplessness. His goatee had grown longer, much darker than his preferred style. He made a mental note to shave it. Lu-Ten pulled his hair free. It tumbled to his shoulders and settled across his brown and gold-trimmed shirt. The face in the mirror did not look like his own. There was a sort of uncanny recognition, a sense of knowing but not understanding. He ran the brush through his hair, watching himself all the while, and with each passing stroke his reflection twisted and contorted, forming too-wide smiles and too-wide eyes.
A man appeared to his left. “Father?” Lu-Ten paused.
“Now you must ask yourself: Am I the man I want to be?”
Lu-Ten furrowed his brow. “You don’t understand. I’m not the man I want to be. I want to be more. I need to be more. The world needs me.”
Tuwa appeared on his right. “After all I’ve done to steer you on the right path, you've lost your way. You’ve lost your firebending. You’ve lost your mind..” her voice merged with his father’s. “You’ve become-”
“A monster. Just like your uncle.”
“Shut up!” Lu-Ten hurled the brush at the mirror, cackling with glee as his father’s face fractured and vanished amid the broken glass and Tuwa vanished into dust. He laughed until his chest ached and his breath came in bursts that morphed into gasping, ragged sobs. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t understand. It was just, it was right. It was his destiny. Yaretzi would come around in time. They all would come around. But if only they would just listen.
A pale figure caught his eye, lounging in the corner of the antechamber where the door met the wall. Azula reclined in the singular chair like a viper-tiger after a hunt, her amber eyes watching him with a twinkle of smug amusement. Her position suggested that she had been there all along, patiently awaiting his return. A steaming cup sat at her feet. “I suppose next we’ll find you howling at the moon. Do keep in mind that it’s well past midnight. The whole wing heard you blundering through the halls like a blind bullpig. Your wife’s brother was rather cross that you almost woke up both of those…babies.” The amber eyed girl (young woman, really) yawned with dramatic flair. “They said that our grandfather did the same thing in his latter years. Seeing ghosts in the night, monsters under his bed.” She examined her cuticles.
Lu-Ten watched her warily. Azula moved with serpentine speed, causing him to stumble a pace when she stood. The sudden proximity made him uneasy. Azula cradled the cup. A tiny flame in her palm kept the liquid warm. She leaned forward until they were mere inches apart.
“In any case,” Azula sang, "I decided to be a good cousin and bring you some tea. It might calm your high strung nerves.” She pressed the teacup into his hand.
Lu-Ten looked down at it before bringing the cup to his nose. He sniffed. It smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. “You poisoned it.”
His youngest cousin’s grin was mocking. “Of course not. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it by now. You’re just as paranoid as my brother. Have you no faith in me? Your own flesh and blood.” Azula dragged her talon-like nails over his jawline, chucking him under the chin. “It’s chamomile. That old Sun Warrior said that my uncle was quite a tea connoisseur. I figured you'd like to follow in his footsteps.”
The dragonlord flinched. He sniffed the tea once more before taking a sip. It warmed him from within. Skepticism heightened his focus. “You’re toying with me.”
The princess beckoned him to drink again. She took a half-step back from whence she came. “I never really liked playing with dolls.” Her voice dropped into a sultry lullaby. “Goodnight, sweet cousin. Sleep well.”