When The Walls Fell

[batrachian]

Title: When The Walls Fell
By: batrachian
Rating: PG
Characters: Iroh, Lu Ten
Content Notes: Offscreen character death. Set pre-canon, but involves references from late second season.

Miscellaneous Notes: Hey all. This is my first real honest-to-goodness fic! Preemptive credit to my awesometastic beta readers, tamouse and kaberett.


Iroh stopped writing when it became apparent that his writing was illegible and he couldn't see the paper anyway. How many letters had it been now? And they never got easier.

"A breath of fresh air. And perhaps some more tea." He eyed the cup perched haphazardly on the stack of papers.

Once outside, the setting sun seemed to light the camp ablaze. So many tents. So many people. None noticed him, but Iroh felt the weight of a thousand eyes pressing on his shoulders all the same.

Standing out here wasn't going to get those letters written. So many, over the last... had it been twenty months already? And he'd tried to be careful.

And yet, week after week, the letters piled up. So many sons and daughters, lost in this war. All for what? To hold on a little longer, to keep this charade going until Father moved on? Some prices are too high, yet he perseveres, because the cost of not going on would be far greater.

This week had been particularly bad. The outer wall had been breached, but the Earthbenders fought with twice the strength and tenacity now. The pace of their advance, already slow by most standards, had slowed to an almost glacial pace. Casualties were their highest yet, and Iroh was starting to notice the glances among the junior officers. Nothing overt, not yet, but eventually someone was bound to criticize his command of the siege.

A sound of trumpets snapped Iroh out of his contemplation.

"Make way for a Prince of the Fire Nation!" The cry rang through the camp, and silence fell as the group approached Iroh's tent. Who was it? Iroh couldn't imagine his brother deigning to come to the front lines himself. Ozai had always been a manipulator, a planner; he was happiest in the Caldera, testing and tweaking to see how many of the nation's strings he could pull. Iroh sighed and supposed it was a miracle he'd gone this long without his brother's direct interference, and walked down the slope to meet him.

And stood, staring in shock at the newcomer to the war camp.

"Lu Ten?"

The young prince dismounted and bowed deeply.

"General Iroh. I bring news from Firelord Azulon."

Iroh tried to conceal the sinking sensation in his heart, but couldn't quite keep the leaden tones from his voice.

"Come into my tent, then, Prince Lu Ten. It seems we have much to discuss."

**********

"This plan is dishonorable."

"But it will work. Can you claim as much? Your army has been camped here for nearly two years. People are getting impatient."

And by "people" Lu Ten almost certainly meant his mother and uncle. They had always been the most vocal detractors of Iroh's leadership style. To them the troops were as kindling, stepping-stones to a larger goal. They didn't take the time to agonize over the letters. Every life lost, every opportunity squandered in the pursuit of power.

"And these...people. They are not here. And so long as they are not, I shall run this campaign as I see fit."

"They are not here, Father. But I am. How long do you intend to keep me locked away in the Caldera, staying 'safe'?"

There was a bitterness there, and a steel that Iroh had not heard when he left the Caldera two years ago.

"So you have made your decision, then."

"Yes, Father. And I would appreciate some support from you. I need this." Anger and desperation played on Lu Ten's face, and Iroh wondered what had happened to his son in the last two years. Or had it been longer than that? He'd always tried to protect, to keep his son safe; now it seemed that those very efforts had driven him farther away than ever.

Perhaps it was not too late to mend bridges.

"Of course, my son. I spoke in haste. Where shall we begin?"

**********

The next morning, the advance group stole away before sunrise; it would not do to be seen in Earth Kingdom uniforms, not in the middle of the Fire Nation encampment. Iroh stood on the bluff, watching his son leading the group of a dozen riders, and had to suppress a shudder of fear.

"Farewell, my son." The words slipped from his lips, over the steam of the morning tea, and he stood, unmoving, until the band was swallowed up in the mists.

**********

"General Iroh, sir, news from the front."

Iroh nearly jumped out of his seat before remembering that this was supposed to be a day of rest.

"What is it, captain?"

"Sir, a group of men just reported in at the front lines; they're ours, sir, but wearing Earth Kingdom uniforms. And they're badly wounded."

Iroh was out of the tent before the captain had finished speaking, splashing lukewarm tea over the entire assortment of maps and battle plans in his rush. A mad dash to the edge of the camp led him to the scattered, wounded group of soldiers. Boys, fighting a war they didn't understand. And Lu Ten...

Lu Ten was not in the group.

"Where is he? Where is my son?" He fought to keep the hysteria out of his voice.

The least injured man sat up, wincing slightly.

"He... didn't make it, sir."

And something went cold inside Iroh. Lu Ten, gone.

Gone.