Iroh comes to him alone, his armor still soot-stained and bloody and broken from the Siege. Cleaning it has seemed too big a chore, and what does it matter when he will never wear it again? He has failed, and he has burned his son, giving Lu Ten honor in that hellish land so far from home.
He has failed. Lu Ten is burned to ashes, ashes and cinders.
His brother sits on the Bronze Throne. Their father is dead. Of what? Fever, Iroh thinks he heard, fever or heart attack or perhaps grief for hadn't he loved Lu Ten too? Not as well as he loved Azula, but she was his name-child, his immortality.
His brother sits on the Bronze Throne, and Ozai's eyes are false-honey, hard and cold as gold coins.
Ozai's eyes were not so cold the last time he had been home, when he and Lu Ten had played at shogi for hours.
Lu Ten is ashes.
Ozai's eyes are as cold as when he faced Iroh in that long-ago Agni Kai. When Kazai had gone he knew not where.
Ursa did not greet Iroh on his arrival as was her wont.
"Hail, Firelord Ozai," Iroh says tiredly. He has done nothing to earn Ozai's enmity this time, and he will not bear his brother's anger. He has lost too much already, his father consigned to flame, his son is ashes, ashes and cinders and smoke on the wind.
"Hail, Dragon of the West," Ozai says, and his voice is crueler than the sun that still shines. "Hail, General Iroh."
"No longer." Each word is a mountain to move from his thoughts to his tongue. "I cannot."
"You cannot?"
Lu Ten is ashes, and Ozai's eyes are hard.
Iroh undoes the latches on his breastplates and lets it crash to the floor. "I will not fight this war any longer." Lu Ten is ashes and cinders. "I will take Lu Ten's boy-" His voice cracks, and he does not weep before his cold, hard brother. "-and I will live with Zolena."
"You would take my son from me?" Ozai asks, and malice gilds his voice as fair as a white dragon blossom.
Lu Ten is ashes. There is nothing left to fight for. Lu Ten is ashes.
Iroh shakes his head. "No. Let me depart in peace, Firelord."
Iroh and Ozai
He has failed. Lu Ten is burned to ashes, ashes and cinders.
His brother sits on the Bronze Throne. Their father is dead. Of what? Fever, Iroh thinks he heard, fever or heart attack or perhaps grief for hadn't he loved Lu Ten too? Not as well as he loved Azula, but she was his name-child, his immortality.
His brother sits on the Bronze Throne, and Ozai's eyes are false-honey, hard and cold as gold coins.
Ozai's eyes were not so cold the last time he had been home, when he and Lu Ten had played at shogi for hours.
Lu Ten is ashes.
Ozai's eyes are as cold as when he faced Iroh in that long-ago Agni Kai. When Kazai had gone he knew not where.
Ursa did not greet Iroh on his arrival as was her wont.
"Hail, Firelord Ozai," Iroh says tiredly. He has done nothing to earn Ozai's enmity this time, and he will not bear his brother's anger. He has lost too much already, his father consigned to flame, his son is ashes, ashes and cinders and smoke on the wind.
"Hail, Dragon of the West," Ozai says, and his voice is crueler than the sun that still shines. "Hail, General Iroh."
"No longer." Each word is a mountain to move from his thoughts to his tongue. "I cannot."
"You cannot?"
Lu Ten is ashes, and Ozai's eyes are hard.
Iroh undoes the latches on his breastplates and lets it crash to the floor. "I will not fight this war any longer." Lu Ten is ashes and cinders. "I will take Lu Ten's boy-" His voice cracks, and he does not weep before his cold, hard brother. "-and I will live with Zolena."
"You would take my son from me?" Ozai asks, and malice gilds his voice as fair as a white dragon blossom.
Lu Ten is ashes. There is nothing left to fight for. Lu Ten is ashes.
Iroh shakes his head. "No. Let me depart in peace, Firelord."
"Of course, brother. Go."
He went.