Story [Avatar: The Last Airbender] Fire Doesn't Have to Burn (Iroh Decathlon)

Title: Fire Doesn't Have to Burn

Author: devilinthedetails

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Genre: A variety of genres.

Characters: Iroh; Zuko; Lu Ten; Ozai; Piandao; Izumi; Azulon; Azula; Ursa; Pakku; General Zhao; Sokka; Princess Yup; Tui and La; OC's.

Summary: A compilation of stories written for my Iroh Decathlon for the Fanfic Summer Olympics.

Index of Entries:

Dragon Slaying. 110 Word Hurdle. Iroh; Zuko. Post #2.

Lost Son. 400 Word Cross Country. Iroh; Lu Ten; OC. Post #4.

A New Fire Lord. Single Sentence Shotput. Iroh; Ozai; Lu Ten; OC. Post #6.

Burned. 100 Word Sprint. Iroh; Ozai; Zuko. Post #8.

Gentle Fire. 200 Freestyle. Iroh, Zuko. Post #10.

Radiant Love. 4x100 Relay. Iroh; Zuko; Lu Ten; OC (Iroh's Wife); Piandao; Izumi. Post #12.

Dragon in the Rock Garden. Water Polo Poetry. Iroh; Lu Ten. Post #14.

Adopted Son. AU Archery. Iroh; Azulon; Zuko; Lu Ten; Ozai; Ursa; Azula. Post #16.

Asylum. 1500 Word Dash. Iroh; Azula; Zuko. Post #18.

Wisdom of the Ocean and Moon. Fantastical Fencing. Iroh; Pakku; General Zhao; Sokka; Princess Yue; Tui and La. Post #20.

Dance of Sun and Shadow. Prime Time Coverage. Iroh; Azulon; Ozai; Sun Warriors; Ran and Shaw. Post #23.

Decathlon finished 8/22/2021. Thread always open for reading and comments as always! Also my muse finally cooperated, and I was able to post a bonus thirteenth entry for the Prime Coverage event 2/8/2022.

 

Title: Dragon Slaying

Genre: Family; General.

Characters: Iroh; Zuko.

Event: 110 Word Hurdle

Summary: Zuko asks Iroh what it was like to slay the last dragon.

Dragon Slaying (110 Word Hurdle)

“You slew the last dragon.” His nephew stared at him with gold eyes wide as wish lanterns at Fire Festival.

“In my own fashion,” he answered, a lie and not a lie.

“How did you slay the last dragon?” Impatience permeated his nephew’s tone now.

“With great patience and humility and a little bit of cleverness but not too much cleverness.” He looked at his nephew with a fond twinkle in his gaze. “Dragons don’t like it when people are too clever.”

“What was it like to slay the last dragon?” His nephew’s voice was hushed.

“Beautiful.” He remembered the rainbow fire Ran and Shaw had breathed. “Beautiful and melancholy.”

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting! Iroh is one of my absolute favorite Avatar characters, and I'm really looking forward to being able to explore him in more depth throughout this decathlon.

It warmed my heart writing young Zuko's persistent, eager questions, and I liked that Iroh was trying to teach Zuko about patience, humility, and a little bit of cleverness early on since as you say those are vital elements to achieving any goal.

And of course Zuko will later learn exactly what Iroh's dragon slaying really entailed.

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Title: Lost Son

Genre: Angst; Drama; Family; General.

Characters: Iroh; Lu Ten; OC.

Event: 400 Word Cross Country

Summary: Iroh learns his son is lost forever.

Lost Son (400 Word Cross Country)

Despite all the strategies Iroh had devised with his son and his other commanders, the inner walls of Ba Sing Se hadn’t fallen, after all. Their attacks had been repelled, and they had been forced to retreat in disarray. It was a defeat and disgrace that would need to be reported to his father.

He should’ve been in his tent, composing that report right now. Instead, he was outside, desperately seeking some sign of his missing son.

One of his senior officers, Lieutenant Nakamura, approached him.

She bowed before saying, “General, we’ve found your son.”

Her grim expression told him that Lu Ten hadn’t truly been found but had been lost forever. Killed in action. Dead trying to conquer a city so far from his home. The bright promise of his life extinguished like a candle. His life over before his prime began.

“Show me,” he ordered, his voice empty as all the ambitions and dreams of glory that had brought him and the Fire Nation troops he commanded to the fabled walls of Ba Sing Se.

“Yes, sir.” Lieutenant Nakamura bowed again before guiding him to a cart where his son’s body lay forever motionless. Blood drenched his uniform. He would need to be cleaned. Washed as if he were a small boy who had gotten dirty darting through mud puddles and dressed in a mourning-white shroud.

His face was smashed almost beyond recognition by a boulder hurled by some earthbender manning the ramparts of Ba Sing Se. The pearls of his teeth shattered. His nose a purple pulp.

He gazed into the eyes that only yesterday had been shining as Lu Ten swore that they would meet together in triumph when they broke through the inner walls of Ba Sing Se and began to make their way through the rings of that grandest of the Earth Kingdom’s cities. Now those eyes were devoid of emotion. Devoid of sparkle. Devoid of life.

He leaned forward, cradling his son’s lifeless body to his heaving chest.

“I’m so sorry, son.” He cried out in his anguish, knowing no apology would ever be able to restore the dead to life. “I failed you.”

Apologizing not for failing to conquer Ba Sing Se, but for the misguided beliefs that had led them to besiege Ba Sing Se in the first place. Lies he had been taught were true. Lies that killed Lu Ten.

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting! My heart did break in about a million pieces for Iroh as I was writing this storyI get tears in my eyes whenever I watch the scene of Iroh mourning his son outside the walls of Ba Sing Se. I really think that Iroh would've tried so hard to be a good and loving father figure, so it feels especially tragic to me that he would feel that he had failed his son. I do think Lu Ten's death was something really shattering for Iroh. Something that made him realize just how wrong the Fire Nation's war was, and how it was destroying the children of the Fire Nation as well as the rest of the war. At least there is the comfort of knowing that Iroh doesn't stop loving people after Lu Ten's death and that he is able to enjoy a very close, father and son like bond with Zuko. So that is definitely a consolation to me. And I do promise not all the Iroh entries will be so sad! With Iroh, there have to be some happy and hopeful moments, that's for sure!

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Title: New Fire Lord

Genre: General; Angst; Drama.

Characters: Iroh; Ozai; Lu Ten; OC.

Event: Single Sentence Shotput

Summary: Iroh cannot bring himself to care who is the new Fire Lord.

A New Fire Lord (Single Sentence Shotput)

“Fire Lord Azulon has passed, and Ozai has seized his throne,” Lieutenant Nakamura told Iroh as if she expected him to care when Lu Ten was dead, his ashes buried beneath a lonely Earth Kingdom tree.

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting! I'm so glad that you found it very understandable that Iroh would not think about or care who was the next Fire Lord after his son's death. I think Iroh never had that ruthless, cunning ambition to rule and be Fire Lord that Ozai had, and then with his son's death, it would be impossible for him to care about that sort of political maneuvering that would feel so hollow and empty to him with Lu Ten gone. I think Iroh at this point just wants to mourn his son and has no interest in engaging with Ozai in a power struggle to determine who should be Fire Lord after Azulon. And in this next entry we will see what Iroh is willing to confront Ozai about...

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Title: Burned

Genre: General; Drama.

Characters: Iroh; Ozai; Zuko.

Event: 100 Word Sprint

Summary: After Ozai burns Zuko, Iroh confronts his brother.

Burned (100 Word Sprint)

Iroh didn’t confront Ozai when he stole their father’s throne. The throne Iroh should have inherited, because after Lu Ten’s death he didn’t want to rule. He wanted only to grieve.

He did, however, confront Ozai when his brother burned his nephew’s face deeply, savagely enough to leave scars.

“You burned his face.” Iroh ached to shoot flames at his brother.

“It was to teach him respect.” Ozai flicked him a contemptuous stare. One that said his compassion was weakness. “You weren’t hard enough on your own son. You raised him to be soft. That is why he is dead.”

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha Thank you so much for reading and commenting! Ozai definitely made me mad just writing him in this because of how he abuses Zuko and says the most hurtful thing possible to Iroh. I just think Ozai is one of those truly evil people who goes around saying and doing the most horrible things and coming up with the most twisted "excuses" for doing so imaginable. So, we certainly got to see that on full display in the last piece. At least this next piece will be a softer story featuring Iroh with an adorable young Zuko.

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Title: Gentle Fire

Genre: General; Family; Mush.

Characters: Iroh; Zuko.

Event: 200 Freestyle.

Summary: Iroh teaches his nephew that fire can be gentle.

Gentle Fire (200 Word Freestyle)

Iroh sat on a mat, one hand resting lightly on his nephew’s back, while the other cradled a tiny flame in his open palm.

Zuko’s bite-sized fingers were outstretched, reaching for the orange blaze reflected in his mesmerized, golden eyes.

“Fire can be gentle,” he explained to his young nephew just as he had once taught his own son, because he knew it was a lesson Ozai could never impart on the boy. A lesson Ozai had never bothered to learn. To Ozai, fire was ambition, drive, and destruction. It was fury in fearsome, flaming form. It wasn’t understood as pure energy, the source of all radiant life through the sun that never stopped shining over their heads. That couldn’t stop shining over their heads lest they all die in cold darkness. “It doesn’t have to burn. It doesn’t have to rage and be feared. It can warm and comfort. It can provide light, beauty, and color.”

Zuko might be too young to understand the words. Too little to remember the lesson, but at least he would recall the lightness of an uncle’s touch. The feeling of a fire that warmed but didn’t burn. That provided light and didn’t blind.

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting on my work!I'm so glad that you found this to be a beautiful lesson because I find so many of Uncle Iroh's lessons to be beautiful, and I really wanted to channel that spirit of gentle wisdom into this lesson Iroh tries to teach a young Zuko. And I think Iroh will continue to enforce this lesson in how he treats Zuko as Zuko grows, and that is why Zuko will ultimately be able to see the gentler side of fire. Iroh teaches Zuko so much, and it just warms my heart.

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Title: Radiant Love

Genre: Family; Romance; Friendship.

Characters: Iroh; Zuko; Lu Ten; OC (Iroh's Wife); Piandao; Izumi.

Event: 4x100 Relay.

Summary: Throughout his life, Iroh experiences all kinds of radiant love.

Radiant Love (4x100 Relay)

Squealing in the Setting Sun

Iroh felt affection surge through him like the waves crashing against the Ember Island beach where he sat as the sun set copper into the ocean. Lifting his young nephew in the air, so that Zuko squealed and laughed in delight, tiny arms flailing and little toes curling.

Across from him, his son Lu Ten laughed in an echo of Zuko’s contagious joy. Lu Ten was building a palace in the sand, its crowning glory a tower rising from the center.

Iroh found himself wishing that the sunset, the palace in the sand, and the ringing laughter would last forever.

Elopement

“Your father will never accept our marriage,” murmured Manami as Iroh kissed her on a blanket spread over a black sand beach. Her hair was still fragrant with the cherry blossoms worn in it for their elopement.

Half the marriages on Ember Island were elopements born from the sea-wild sense of abandon that came with too many tropical beverages spiked with alcohol.

Iroh drowned her in kisses, tasting salt on her lips and tongue. That night, as they lay together on the black sand beach, they made a son, who became the only reason Fire Lord Azulon accepted their marriage.

Lotus Friendship

Iroh never expected the deep friendships he found around the world in the aftermath of his life shattering when the son he made with Manami on that Ember Island beach died. Friendships that rose beautiful as the White Lotuses for which their Order was named. Friendships that helped him find himself when he felt lost as his son.

It was Piandao, who suggested over glasses of sake he should travel the world, seeking the wisdom of all the Nations, and gave him a lotus tile pass. Years later, it would be Piandao who nominated him as leader of their Order.

Jasmine Dragon Charity

“Why do you shut your doors for business and serve only the poor for free one night a week, Great Uncle?” Izumi asked him, slicing bamboo shoots for the spring rolls they’d offer with oolong and lychee tea that evening.

He didn’t trust her to prepare the tea, since she was her father’s daughter.

“Ba Sing Se took your father and me in when we were exiles with nowhere to go,” Iroh explained. “I try to repay that charity by opening the doors of the Jasmine Dragon to the poor. Everyone should be able to enjoy a cup of tea.”

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting! Writing adorable young Zuko being lifted in the air by Iroh just warmed my heart, and I loved being able to include Lu Ten and his wonderful laughter into the beautiful moment and memory. Almost every time I go to the beach, I find myself wishing it could last forever, so I could totally relate to Iroh's desire for that moment of peace and joy to last forever.

I really enjoyed writing Iroh having a tender, lovely moment with his wife, and I couldn't resist adding the cherry blossoms and beach to make it even more delicious with the cherry blossoms and the beach. I just have a soft spot for Ember Island, what can I say?

I really am a fan of Piandao, so it was a real treat to be able to include him in this story and to explore a little more of his friendship with Iroh. I totally picture Piandao as being a true and invaluable friend to anyone in the White Lotus!

And I very much wanted to celebrate the beauty of international friendship and the White Lotus organization so I am so pleased that came across in a poignant and lyrical way for you!

It was a true joy to be able to write about Iroh's teashop and the charitable endeavors he engages in there. And I got a big grin on my face as I wrote his interaction with Izumi. I also can't blame you in the least for wanting those spring rolls since my stomach was starting to growl for spring rolls as I typed that part of the story, haha

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Title: Dragon in the Rock Garden

Genre: Poetry; Family.

Characters: Iroh; Lu Ten.

Event: Water Polo Poetry

Summary: Iroh, Lu Ten, and a dragon in the rock garden.

Dragon in the Rock Garden

A dragon, crimson-painted,
and gold gilded.
Reflecting the radiant rays
of the cracked egg yolk
yellow sun.

Crouched, ready to strike,
to claw the beating heart
out of any fearsome enemy,
by the northern wall
of the family rock garden.

Lu Ten’s plump fingers,
sticky with watermelon juice,
clutched between his own.
Explaining to his son
what dragons were.

How they had once been
devoted guardians
and loyal protectors
of the Fire Nation.
How they had been
first firebenders.

How they drank the sun’s flame,
carried it down to the earth,
and taught humans
how to breathe
and weave with fire.

How they had been hunted.
How the last dragon
not carved from stone
was supposed to be dead.
Slain by him so he could be named
Dragon of the West.

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting on this Iroh Decathlon!I'm so glad you found this to be an excellent bit of poetry since I don't write much poetry and am always nervous about how my poetry comes out. And it makes me so happy that you found it depicted a nice scene. I am really enjoying the opportunity to write about Lu Ten and his relationship with Iroh because it is nice to be able to write about a loving father like Iroh.

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Title: Adopted Son

Genre: Family; Drama; General.

Characters: Iroh; Azulon; Zuko; Lu Ten; Ozai; Ursa; Azula.

Event: AU Archery

Summary: After Lu Ten's death, Iroh adopts Zuko.

Adopted Son (AU Archery)

When Iroh returned from the failed siege of Ba Sing Se where his son had died, he discovered that Ozai was exiled from court. Banished to his country estates having apparently offended their father for some reason Iroh couldn’t bring himself to care about because he had no interest in political maneuvering. It had always been Ozai who was the cunning one. The political schemer. And look at where that had got him. Exiled from their father’s court. Far from their father’s favor.

Ursa and Azula, Iroh understood, had been banished to the countryside along with Ozai. Zuko, however, was still at court. That was interesting. Iroh didn’t know what fate his father had planned for Zuko. Only that Fire Lord Azulon never did anything without a reason and always had a lotus tile tucked under the long sleeves of his sweeping royal robe.

Iroh learned what this reason and tucked lotus tile was in his first private audience with his father in a sunlit garden where they sat on a stone bench beside a fish pond, watching red-and-gold koi swim in slow circles through the shallow water.

“I was grieved to hear of Lu Ten’s passing.” Father’s voice was rasping. Not at all the commanding one Iroh remembered from his childhood. Proof that time was a river with a strong current sweeping them all out to sea where they would drown. “To lose a beloved son, that is a pain no father should ever have to experience.”

How many beloved sons of other fathers had Iroh killed in the Earth Kingdom? The sorrows he had caused were as beyond counting as the grains of sand on the Ember Island beach where Lu Ten had been conceived. An echo of how his grief seemed to be beyond tears.

“I will remember him forever.” Iroh inclined his head. “He will live on in my memory and my heart. If I forget him, he will die a second, more horrible death.”

The golden scales of the koi fish shone like tears in the sunlight. The crimson ones like droplets of fresh spilled blood. Iroh had seen too many tears and too much blood waging his father and grandfather’s war in the Earth Kingdom.

“Your brother dishonored Lu Ten’s memory and you.” Father’s eyes burned like fire. Age had not diminished his capacity for the fury born and bred in him by his own father, Sozin. “As soon as word reached him of Lu Ten’s death, he sought a private audience with me. Paraded Azula before me and had her perform her firebending for me like she was in a circus instead of my throne room. Reminded me that he had two children, and you had none with Lu Ten gone. Tried to usurp your proper place in the line of succession. Urged me to betray you while you were in your mourning period for your lost son.”

Father’s words should have felt like a knife in Iroh’s back. Would have felt like a knife in Iroh’s back if he had expected loyalty and love from Ozai, but he never had. Ozai had never showed him anything except distrust and hatred. Could it really be considered a betrayal if it was entirely predictable?

“That is Ozai.” Iroh sighed, weary of Ozai’s relentless ambition and ceaseless jockeying for power. “A venomous snake crawls through the dust, so we cannot be surprised when its belly is dirty nor when its poisonous bite tries to kill.”

“I told him that you had suffered enough with the loss of your son but that his punishment was only beginning.” The flames in Father’s eyes seemed to rage all the hotter now. “I banished him from court with Azula and Ursaand told him he must know the pain of losing his firstborn son.”

“You don’t mean--” Iroh’s question broke off, cracking in his horror.

Surely, Father wouldn’t have ordered Zuko’s death. Yet, a creeping fear hissed inside him like a viper, there was nothing Father wouldn’t do. He had conquered Earth Kingdom provinces at thirteen and driven the Southern Water Tribe to the cusp of extinction. He was not a man who could be called compassionate or accused of any softness. He was hard as ice with the seething hatred of a volcano steaming within him.

“I don’t mean the boy should die.” Father waved a dismissive hand, obviously irked by what he doubtlessly deemed to be Iroh’s excessive sentimentality. “If I meant that, the boy would be dead already, not living at court.”

“What do you mean then?” Iroh’s forehead furrowed as he struggled to comprehend what his father was saying.

“I mean, Ozai’s words brought an injustice and imbalance to my attention.” Father’s tone was glacier cold. “I mean that I will rectify that injustice and imbalance. With Lu Ten dead, you have no child to be your heir, but Ozai has two children. Two potential heirs. I will take his firstborn son from him and give the boy to you to raise as your heir. Thus, he will know the pain of losing his firstborn son and of overreaching.”

“It won’t be a pain to him.” Iroh shook his head. “Ozai doesn’t love Zuko.”

Sometimes it even appeared as if Ozai hated Zuko. Despised the boy because he wasn’t a firebending prodigy like his younger sister. Loathed him because he hadn’t inherited Ozai’s defining ruthlessness but instead shared a certain softness with his mother.

Iroh had yet to be convinced that Ozai was even capable of love. Ozai had never loved their father or Iroh. Nor had he ever indicated any love for Ursa, the woman their father had ordered him to marry. He didn’t even seem to love his favored child, Azula. He praised her and had ambitions for her, but that wasn’t the same as loving her.

Iroh knew that. Any truly loving father would know that.

“No, he doesn’t,” Father agreed in an unfazed, unflinching manner that suggested he was very much aware of this harsh truth. “However, you do.”

“I do.” Iroh couldn’t deny that. Wouldn’t deny that. He had tried to offer a father’s love to Zuko, realizing that Zuko would never get a father’s love from Ozai. “I have tried to treat him and love him as if he were my own son.”

He felt himself choking on the words that were another sad reminder of his lost Lu Ten.

“I’ve seen that.” Father was all tartness. “My vision may be dimming with age, but I’m not blind yet, and I could see that much.”

“A blind man can hear and feel love even if he can’t see it,” Iroh murmured.

“It’s settled then.” Father’s reply was crisp as cackling fire. “Zuko will be your adopted son, and you will be his father. I’ve already written the proclamation making it so.”

Iroh was surprised and didn’t know why he was. Adoption within extended families had a long, storied history in the Fire Nation. It was an ancient custom dating back to the days of competing warlords, not some new notion invented by his father in later years. One relative with multiple children might give one in adoption to a relative with no offspring or whose offspring had died, lost to disease or a battlefield as Lu Ten had been. It was meant to ensure the survival of bloodlines.

“It’s not so easy to uproot a tree from one orchard and plant it in another, Father,” Iroh pointed out, respectfully as possible. His father had a tendency to ignore feelings and all matters of the heart when making his proclamations. Even about family matters. Sometimes especially about family matters where questions of dynasty were concerned. Zuko might not have been loved by Ozai, but he was loved by Ursa. Her love was the soil and the sunlight in which he grew strong. Without her, he might not grow as he should.

“Nevertheless, you require a replacement son and heir.” Father’s nostrils flared rather like a dragon preparing to breathe fire. “Zuko will be that replacement and heir.”

Iroh’s head spun. To Father, most people were replaceable. When Iroh’s beloved Manami had died giving life to Lu Ten--now sadly dead as well, another casualty of a hundred year war--Father had been adamant that he should remarry. Produce another child. Have an heir and a spare like Father himself did.

That phrase--heir and spare--was so utterly encompassing of how Father saw their family. Iroh was the heir. Ozai the spare. The spare whose birth had cost Iroh’s mother her life.

Father had never remarried after Mother’s death and never been able to forgive Ozai for living when Mother had died. She had been, Iroh thought, the one person Father had loved above all others. Above any heirs and spares. The only one who was truly irreplaceable to him.

“Lu Ten cannot be replaced.” Iroh felt his throat constricting with grief.

“Regardless, you must have a son and heir.” Father’s voice made it clear that his decision was as final as if it had been carved in stone. “Zuko will be that son and heir. He has already been told of his fate. No doubt he will be waiting in your chambers to greet you properly.”

Properly would mean formally. Would mean kneeling. Iroh had never expected or wanted such formality and kneeling from Lu Ten. A bow if remembered and a hug had been all Iroh had ever wanted. Kneeling seemed to create a gulf, a chasm that could not be easily crossed, between father and child. Perhaps that was why so many fathers in the Fire Nation were so enamored of the posture. It reinforced their authority. Their power over the offspring they towered above.

When Iroh had taken formal leave of his own father and returned to his chambers, he discovered that Zuko was indeed kneeling and waiting for him. Of course Zuko was. He would’ve been taught by Ozai that was the only acceptable manner for a son to greet a long-absent father. With a strange knotting in his stomach, Iroh realized that Ozai having taught Zuko this discipline, this respect, this knowing his place, would have made him a good father by the standards of many in the Fire Nation.

“Zuko.” Iroh knelt on the floor as well and pulled Zuko toward him for a hug. The sudden movement seemed to startle Zuko, whose spine stiffened as if he expected to be beaten. Perhaps he did expect to be beaten. Maybe Ozai had taught him to expect that too. Gently, he patted the boy’s back. Trying to provide unspoken reassurance that he would never hurt him. “I just want to hold you. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Tears glimmered in Zuko’s eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

“Sorry for what?” Iroh stroked soothing patterns into the boy’s back.

“Sorry Lu Ten is gone.” The tears began to stream down Zuko’s cheeks. “I miss him.”

“Me too.” Iroh pressed a kiss into Zuko’s forehead as he had done to Lu Ten when he was small and able to be held like this.

“I remember him sharing firebending tips with me.” Zuko swiped at his tears with the sleeves of his robes. “And I remember how I used to chase after him on the beach at Ember Island. I remember how we’d both laugh into the salt-stingy wind when I did that.”

Zuko’s words filled Iroh to bursting with the ringing memory of Lu Ten’s wild, uncontrollable laughter. That was how Iroh wanted to remember his son. Laughing forever. Eternally happy and free. Running on a beach against the wind.

“As long as you remember that, he’s still alive in your memories and in you.” Iroh hugged Zuko tighter too his chest. “As long as you remember him, he won’t really die.”

His own father had told him something like that when his mother had passed. Told him that people died a second, more final, death when they were forgotten. When their names were never again spoken by breathing lips. When they were lost to oblivion. Faded into the emptiness of eternal quiet.

“Yes, Uncle.” Zuko nodded. Then faltered. Floundered. Slapping his forehead in a gesture of forgetfulness. “I mean, Father. I keep forgetting you’re my father now.”

“It’s okay, son,” Iroh said. The first time he had referred to Zuko as that. A milestone on what would be their path together as father and son. “We both have a lot to get used to now. We’ll have to adjust to these changes together, won’t we?”

“Yes, Father.” Zuko gazed up at Iroh with wide eyes. “Now that you’re my father, will you beat me if I disappoint you? If I make you angry?”

That would be a question a boy raised by Ozai would ask.

“I’ve never beaten you before, have I?” Iroh rocked Zuko in his arms, hoping the rhythm would be comforting.

“No.” Zuko shook his head. “You’ve always been kind to me, but I thought that was because you were my uncle, not my father.”

Ozai would’ve taught Zuko that fathers were cruel. Strict and stern. The icy opposite of everything kind and loving.

“You could never disappoint me,” Iroh said as kindly, as lovingly, as he could. “And if you anger me, I will scold you and then forgive you. But I will never beat you. So put that worry from your mind.” He cupped Zuko’s cheek. “Nothing will change now that you are my son except that I will love you even more than I did before.”

“I love you too.” Zuko relaxed, leaning into Iroh’s touch. “But I do miss my mother.”

He missed his mother. Made no mention of missing Ozai or Azula. There was nothing unexpected in that for one who knew all the family drama and pain as Iroh did.

“You will see her soon and often,” Iroh assured him. “I won’t prevent you from seeing her. You must wait, though, for her to return from her exile to the countryside. You would risk the Fire Lord’s wrath otherwise.”

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting!So glad you found the talk between Iroh and his father wonderfully touching. It was definitely interesting for me to explore Iroh's relationship with his father and a universe where Azulon doesn't order Zuko to be killed. And it makes me so happy that you found the conversation between Iroh and Zuko so heartwarmingI love writing Zuko and Iroh interacting and showing their deep affection for one another. And I have had a hankering to write an Iroh formally adopts a young Zuko type story for awhile, so this AU Archery event seemed like the perfect opportunity to indulge that urge. Writing about Iroh and Zuko fondly recalling Lu Ten brought both warm feelings to my heart and tears to my eyes because Iroh lost so much when his son died, but it is so good that he has Zuko to love and to comfort him. That is how he will find his healing from his grief, and Iroh would be able to give so much assurance to Zuko over the years. The two of them are just so good for each other, providing one another with what they need, and that is probably why I enjoy writing their dynamic so much.

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Title: Asylum

Genre: Family; Drama; Angst.

Characters: Iroh; Azula; Zuko.

Event: 1500 Word Dash

Summary: Iroh visits Azula in the asylum.

Asylum (1500 Word Dash)

The asylum where Azula was confined as much for her own safety as everyone else’s was its own tiny island. An island that might have been considered beautiful and peaceful if one didn’t know, as Iroh did, the torment of its inhabitants and the patient doctors and nurses who tried to heal them.

At the asylum, Iroh understood, Azula was both patient and prisoner. Nobody was permitted to visit her without the Fire Lord’s permission.

Iroh had sought that and been granted it in formal writing--a pass to survive any official’s beady-eyed scrutiny--a few days ago.

“I must try to reach Azula,” Iroh had said to his nephew as they walked a garden path beneath cherry blossoms in their proud, pink prime. “It’s been too long since I tried to reach her.”

So long, in fact, that he couldn’t remember when it had been. So long, it was lost in the mists of time that too often clouded his mind these days. So long, it was a guilt and grief keenly felt in his old age, cutting like a poisoned knife into the tranquil retirement that should have been running his own teashop in the bustling tiered city of Ba Sing Se.

“She is unreachable.” Zuko shook his head. Jaw clenched. Gaze somber and almost sorrowful in the blazing noon sun. “Trapped in her own insanity.”

“Nevertheless, she is my niece.” Iroh folded his hands together beneath the sleeves of his robes. “I must try to reach her.”

“The way you reached me.” Zuko’s face softened. Became less brooding.

“The way I reached you,” Iroh agreed gently. “You will give me permission to visit her?”

“I will give you anything you want if you ask it of me.” Zuko cracked a wry grin. “You know that, Uncle.”

Silence save for their footsteps crunching along the pebbled path followed for a moment before Zuko went on, “Be wary, Uncle. She truly is crazy now. Her rage burns hotter than ever, and now it is uncontrolled. More violent than it was when she kept a tight grip on herself and her sanity.”

“I will be careful, nephew,” Iroh had promised on that pathway scented with cherry blossoms and then felt himself swept up in the unexpected, fierce typhoon of Zuko’s embrace. It was still strange and wonderful to him when his nephew hugged him first. Initiated a display of affection between them. In the past, it had always been Iroh who tugged Zuko in for an embrace which he would submit to with varying degrees of stiffness.

Cupping his nephew’s burned and scarred cheek, he had added, mild as spring rain, “Don’t worry about me.”

Now, sitting on a stone bench in Azula’s private garden--being the Fire Lord’s sister came with certain comforts and privileges even in an asylum--Iroh couldn’t help but worry about himself as he watched one of Azula’s attendant nurses pushing her wheeled chair out to meet him. The attendant nurse was flanked by a quartet of highly trained guards skilled in chi-blocking.

The guards weren’t there to shield Azula from harm, Iroh knew, so much as they were to protect her doctors, nurses, and anyone foolhardy enough to visit her as Iroh was from the sudden blue lightning surges of her wrath.

The nurse rolled Azula over to Iroh, so they were sitting face-to-face beside a pond where a long-beaked and even longer-legged crane was fishing for a meal.

Finished bringing Azula over to her guest, the nurse retreated to a discreet distance where she could keep an eye on Azula while still granting her some semblance of privacy for her conversation with Iroh. The guards followed the nurse like an entourage.

Iroh thought he might have to be the one to speak first--to try to break the tension between him and Azula--but it was Azula who remarked with a wild giggle Iroh hadn’t heard since she was a little girl playing on the beach or in bubbling fountains, “Forgive me if I don’t bow, Uncle. I’m unaccustomed to visitors.”

“I should’ve visited you more.” Iroh dipped his head. Remorseful. Regretting how broken she was and how he had let her be alone in her brokenness for so long. “And sooner.”

“Why bother?” Azula scraped at her cuticles. An ugly, harsh sound for a now disheveled girl who had once been immaculate in her hairstyling and makeup. “I know you hate me. Just like Zuzu. Just like my mother.”

“I don’t hate you.” Iroh struggled to regain control over the conversation. Wondering how he had lost control of it in the first place. If he had ever had control of it at all. If Azula had been the one in control of it. Seizing it and twisting it to her own insane ends. “Neither does Zuko. Neither does your mother.”

“You left me here to rot. So did Zuzu.” Azula made an odd snarling noise. Like a wounded animal that would bite anyone who approached it even with the intent of healing its injuries. “And my mother. She left me with my father. She thought he cared about me, but he didn’t. He left me in the Fire Nation when we should’ve burned the Earth Kingdom to ashes together. When it was my idea to burn the Earth Kingdom to ash. He humiliated me in front of everybody. Not just by leaving me in the Fire Nation when I should’ve been by his side, but by naming me Fire Lord only to elevate himself to Phoenix King above me. Turning what should’ve been my moment of greatest glory into shame.”

Azula pressed her lips together. Her entire frame shook with grief or fury. Perhaps even with both. Maybe they were the same bitter, choking emotion to her.

“I don’t hate you,” Iroh repeated. That was true now even if it hadn’t always been. How could he hate someone so shattered? Especially when they shared his flawed flesh and blood? “There wasn’t the closeness there should’ve been between us because I thought you reminded me of your father. Now I see you reminded me too much of myself--of how I used to be--and I wasn’t ready to confront that.”

“I remind you of yourself.” Azula laughed but there was more emptiness than amusement in it.

“I was once my father’s favored child just like you were your father’s favored child.” Iroh tried to keep the pity out of his eyes, knowing how Azula would hate it if she spotted it.

“I was my father’s favorite child and look where it got me?” Azula’s derisive flick of her wrist seemed to encompass the entire asylum. “A luxurious prison but a prison nonetheless.”

“And you achieved what was once my dream.” Iroh could taste ashes in his mouth even after all these years when he remembered his defeat at Ba Sing Se. How he had lost his beloved Lu Ten forever. “You conquered Ba Sing Se for the Fire Nation. I used to think that was my destiny, but it turned out not to be.”

“And what’s my destiny to be, Uncle?” Azula hissed like a seething flame. “To be locked up here forever?”

“Who would claim to know their destiny?” Iroh felt compassion for her rooted in his deep sorrow for his lost son. Where else could it have been grounded but his grief? “It is impossible to predict the twists the path of one’s life will take before they happen.”

“I lost everything I cared about.” Azula’s fist clenched as if she might have hurled a bolt of cerulean lightning if her firebending wasn’t constantly blocked by her vigilant guards. “Perhaps that was my destiny.”

“At Ba Sing Se, I thought I lost everything I loved too.” Tears welled in Iroh’s eyes, and he didn’t care if she saw them. Either she would empathize with his grief or she would not. He could not change her feelings and was at peace with that. “For awhile, I couldn’t bring myself to care about anyone or anything. Eventually, with time for healing and reflection, I was able to discover and rediscover. When I was young, my father told me that when a nation is in the darkest moment of its history, hints of the bright empire it will be can be seen. So it was with people, he said. When we are at our lowest ebb, we can sometimes glimpse the heights we will reach when the tide turns and comes in again. My father was wrong about many things, but he was right about that.”

“Reflection.” Azula stared down at her fingernails. “I suppose I have all the time in the world for that now.”

“Reflection is one of life’s great gifts and mysteries.” Iroh inclined his head to her. “Along with compassion.”

“Compassion.” Azula’s words were sharp. Sardonic. Searing. “I don’t believe in that. Nothing in my life has prepared me to believe in that.”

There was, Iroh reflected, sorrow in that even if she didn’t believe there was.

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha As always, thank you so much for commenting on my Iroh Decathlon!This story was definitely a very intense one for me to write. I really wanted to write a piece where Iroh would try to bridge the gap with Azula since to me one of his greatest traits is his compassion and belief that people can be redeemed so I wanted to showcase that here, but at same time, I didn't want to do any sort of rushed redemption with Azula. So I ended up focusing instead on how broken she was and how she saw herself as an object of loathing. But at the same time I like to still think that redemption and healing might be possible for Azula in the future. Just not right away and not quickly, but perhaps earned over time with effort.

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Title: Wisdom of the Ocean and Moon

Genre: General; Spiritual; Fantastical; Friendship; Drama.

Characters: Iroh; Pakku; Zhao; Sokka; Princess Yue; Tui and La.

Event: Fantastical Fencing

Summary: Iroh and the wisdom of the ocean and moon he finds in the Spirit Oasis of the Northern Water Tribe.

Wisdom of the Ocean and Moon (Fantastical Fencing)

Iroh’s travels after Lu Ten’s death had taken him from the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom to the frozen snow-white and ice-shiny city of the Northern Water Tribe. While in the North Pole, he was staying with Master Pakku, proud member of the White Lotus and strict, sarcastic instructor to the male waterbending students. The female waterbending students did not become Master Pakku’s pupils, Iroh quickly learned. They weren’t to be taught dueling. Instead, they were to be educated in the ancient art of manipulating water to heal by Yagoda, head of the Northern Water Tribe’s healers.

Yogoda’s teaching style considerably less sharp and severe than Master Pakku’s, Iroh gathered from how some boys would mutter in misty plumes of breath that they wished they were being taught by her instead when they thought Master Pakku’s attention was elsewhere.

Iroh saw this because he enjoyed watching Master Pakku train the next generation of waterbenders. He was fascinated by the technique and philosophy behind waterbending. How attuned it was to the ebb and flow of energy in one’s own body as well as within the body of any enemy. How often it sought to absorb like a wave and then redirect the force and energy of an attack against its originator. There was something very clever and elegant about that.

Something that made him wonder if he could apply similar theory to firebending to discover new forms. Citizens of the different Nations being able to study and learn from each other was one of the grand purposes of the White Lotus organization, after all.

Perhaps, Iroh thought, stroking his beard as he watched Master Pakku shout the boys through their stances, he might be able to integrate waterbending philosophy and style into redirecting lightning. Maybe a safe channel through the body--like the canals winding through the Northern Water Tribe’s great city--for lightning to travel could be found or created. Of course, if the lightning strayed from that safe channel, it would be very destructive indeed.

It bore contemplation, and he was still reflecting on such issues and possibilities that night as he ate bowls of steaming seaweed stew and boiled halibut with Master Pakku for dinner.

“I’m learning a lot from watching you train your boys in waterbending,” remarked Iroh, savoring a morsel of halibut. Food in the Northern Water Tribe wasn’t spicy as it was in the Fire Nation, instead it was rawer. More focused on drawing out the natural flavors of the ocean that infused it. Each bite tasted of salt and sea. A reminder of where it had come from. “I think I might be able to apply some of the techniques and philosophy to firebending. Perhaps to redirect lightning by allowing it to flow through a safe channel through the body and then to be released toward a more desirable location.”

“An intriguing idea. Worthy of exploration.” Master Pakku chased and speared a stray knot of seaweed with his chopsticks. Then flashed like lightning one of his sardonic smiles. “Worthy of exploration if it doesn’t get you killed, that is. If anything goes wrong with your new technique, you could be fried alive. Your organs burned to a crisp like blubbered seal jerky but less tasty.”

“That is the risk,” Iroh agreed, continuing to munch serenely on his halibut, unfazed by the graphic mental image Master Pakku’s words had painted. Very little could destroy his appetite. Eating a meal with a friend was one of the true pleasures of life. “We firebenders aren’t particularly afraid of being fried alive or burned to a crisp because we grow up playing with fire and not fearing its burn. Same as your young waterbenders aren’t afraid of drowning.”

“Humph.” Master Pakku’s lips pursed. “Just don’t I didn’t warn you of the dangers of your experimentations.”

“I wouldn’t dream of claiming such a thing.” Placidly, Iroh finished his halibut and began to turn his focus toward devouring his seaweed stew.

A week into his stay, Iroh spent a long day meditating on the flow of chi through the body, outlining a precise path from the fingertip receiving the lightning bolt, up the arm, to and through the stomach, and then up and out of the other arm. It would take incredible discipline and care to wield such a technique, and the person couldn’t be afraid of getting burned to a crisp.

Such fear could result in a loss of concentration, and any distraction might lead to a deadly lapse in control. This would not be a technique that could be used by novices. Only firebending masters. Firebending masters who were open to learning from the wisdom of the other Nations.

After that day spent in meditation on a new form of firebending, he had imagined that his revelations would be finished until at least the next sunrise, but he had reckoned without Master Pakku’s announcement that he was finally willing to show Iroh the most sacred place in the entire Northern Water Tribe. The sanctuary to Tui and La, twin spirits of Moon and Ocean, around which the whole city was built in reverence and protection.

Such an invitation--such an honor--could not be refused when offered. He bowed, accepting the honor and the offer when it was made. Of course he did.

His manner appropriately sober, befitting the sacrosanct spirit domain he was about to enter, Iroh followed Pakku to a green oasis that was the warm, beating heart of the Northern Water Tribe. A faint music--like the crash of a tide hitting a distant shore--echoed in his ears. The sound of the ocean dancing with the cycling moon overhead.

“The Spirit Oasis.” Pakku led him across the wooden curve of a bridge toward a pond that seemed to ripple with serenity. “Where the spirits of the Moon and Ocean dwell. Few from the Fire Nation have set foot here since the dawn of the Hundred Year War.”

“I am humbled to be in the home of the Moon and Ocean spirits.” Iroh bowed toward the pond where he sensed the spirits he spoke of resided.

With Pakku beside him, he sat cross-legged before the pond on a soft patch of ground. The only piece of land in the North Pole that was not frozen snow and ice. That was spirit-blessed so that verdant grass grew from it.

In the pond, he could see two koi--one black with a white dot on its forehead; the other a mirror image--swimming around each other in an eternal, ceaseless circle of the moon and the tide it forever pushed and pulled. A circle with no beginning and no end. A circle of constant change and transformation. Of the union and balance of opposites.

“It’s beautiful and peaceful,” he murmured, letting the wisdom of the Moon and the Ocean spirits wash over him like a calming wave.

“Sometimes, when babies are born who seem unlikely to heal, whom even our greatest healers cannot cure, their parents bring them here at the full moon.” Pakku gazed into the pool, the swimming fish reflected in the deep, drowning blue of his eyes. “Their parents pray to the Moon spirit and dip the babies in the water. At such times, the Moon spirit may be moved to pity and may bestow some of its own spirit to the baby so that the baby might live. Healing the baby when nobody and nothing else could. Such babies always bear a sign of the Moon spirit’s favor. Moon-white or moon-silver hair as a mark of the Moon spirit within them, giving them life.”

Years later, it would be the memory of this tranquil visit to this gorgeous Spirit Oasis that would fuel his fury when General Zhao captured the Spirit of the Moon in a bag and threatened to slay it. That made him issue his own threat that whatever harm Zhao inflicted on the Moon Spirit, Iroh would return on Zhao tenfold. That made him determined to prevent the destruction of the Moon because it wasn’t just the Water Tribe, as foolish, impulsive Zhao thought, that would suffer if the Moon was obliterated from the sky.

If the Moon was gone, the Fire Nation would suffer as well. The Fire Nation was comprised of islands, an archipelago scattered amidst Ocean, and it was the Moon that controlled the tides. If the Moon disappeared, the Ocean would rage wild and unabated. It could hurl tsunami after tsunami at the Fire Nation, wrecking it like driftwood. And the world itself would fall out of its orbit around the Sun with no Moon to anchor it in its proper place. Their world was meant to dance with the Moon as the tides did.

And, when the light of the Moon seemed to have gone out forever, when Zhao appeared to have won despite Iroh’s fiercest fighting and firebending, he remembered Pakku’s words about babies with moon-white and moon-silver hair as he sat, head bowed, with a lifeless koi cradled between his hands. Mourning the loss of the Moon with three children of the Water Tribes. One of which was a girl with hair the color of the moonlight that would be gone from the world forever if she didn’t return the gift of her life and spirit to the Moon.

“You have been touched by the Moon Spirit,” he said gently, regretting what she would have to do to restore the moon to its place in the sky. “It’s life is in you.”

“Yes.” She lowered her moon-blessed head and then lifted it again. In the oceans of her eyes, he could see the glistening dawn of her understanding. The knowledge of her duty. Of the sacrifice she would have to make to maintain balance in the universe. There was sorrow and courage in equal measure in her. “You’re right. It gave me life. Maybe I can give it back.”

“No!” The Water Tribe boy rose a second after her, clutching at her fingers. He loved her. That much was obvious to any man with an ounce of compassion in his heart. “You don’t have to do that!”

“It’s my duty, Sokka.” The girl’s eyes were closed now. As if she had already departed this plane of existence for a more spiritual realm.

“I won’t let you.” The boy’s hand still cupped her fingers. “Your father told me to protect you.”

“I have to do this.” The girl’s eyes were wide. Bright. Unflinching. Focused on sacrificing for the community as only a daughter of the Water Tribe could, and this time the community was the world.

She slipped her fingers free of the boy’s and brought them to rest over the dead koi’s body. Over the fish Iroh stretched toward her with grief heavy in his heart.

The fish glowed like moonlight. The girl’s bright eyes dimmed and closed forever. The mystery of one life, one spirit, ebbing and flowing into another filled the silent, solemn Spirit Oasis.

The koi stopped glowing. The girl collapsed into the boy’s arms. He stroked her cheek. Must have felt no pulse and no breath. Hugged her to his chin and chest. Announced in a broken voice that she was gone.

The fish remained motionless. Iroh didn’t know whether the girl’s sacrifice had worked--had managed to revive the Moon Spirit--or if she was another life lost in vain like his own son Lu Ten had been.

Too many long heartbeats later, the girl’s body vanished, and the fish in Iroh’s hands began to shine again. With tenderness and reverence, he returned it to the pool that was its home, watching it swim white through the water. Looking like healing and hope reborn.

 

I've enjoyed all of your Olympic entries, but I think that this one might just be my favorite! Which is saying something, given the quality of all your writing for this challenge.

Oh, yes! I'll be there in a second to read it if you do. There can never be enough Iroh content.

Alrighty, I much would have rather been here for every update, but as this has been a crazy month that kept me offline more often than not, I'm gonna have to just do a mega review now . . .

This line was so Iroh! And fitting for the dragons too, I imagine.

How else can you describe such a wonder as that? Zuko will understand when he's older.

Oh, but this hurt.

This part cut like a knife, it really did. That's the best way to explain Iroh allowing Ozai to usurp his power. In his grief, what else could he have done?

This was nauseating, and I admire Iroh's control. It would have been oh so tempting to fry Ozai to a crisp right here. But as much as Ozai needs to be held responsible for his actions, there's a scarred and traumatized boy who needs Iroh even more right now.

This glimpse was beautiful!

I LOVE the idea of his marriage to Manami being an elopement. Because Iroh so would.

And I love, love, LOVED seeing all of these glimpses of the growing Order.

Yep. I can see this.

This was such a perfect detail!

And another great detail.

I loved the wording of your prose here.

And this definitely sounded like a bit of Iroh's wisdom.

Whew. This entire scene was charged with so much energy, and I loved the AU aspect of it all - of Azulon taking Ozai's heir for Iroh in answer to his scheming. It fits better, in a way, than Azulon calling for Zuko's death. Which is something very interesting to consider.

Oh! Zuko and his big ol' capacity to love. This scene was just precious and heartbreaking.

I loved every bit of this and could have quoted the whole thing. Azula . . . she went really far down a path that it's not so easy to walk back from. But she can if she wants to, and her family will be there to help her along the way.

I LOVE how this led to Iroh's method of redirecting lightning.

Too true! I really enjoyed Iroh and Pakku's verbal sparring.

But what I liked best was how you ended this set on a note of hope through Yue's sacrifice. It felt fitting, and was a very satisfying conclusion.


Well done with these, and congratulations on finishing your decathlon! I truly enjoyed the entire collection.

 

@Mira_Jade Thank you so much for reading and for your super thoughtful commentMy deepest and humblest apologies for the delayed response! I admit that I had the idea of writing and posting a thirteenth bonus entry for the Prime Time Coverage event, and I was holding off responding until I had that to post. And finally I have that thirteenth bonus entry to post, so hopefully you can enjoy that as well! I think it makes the story come full circle in a way and fingers crossed you will feel the same!

This Iroh Decathlon did have a special spot in my heart because Iroh has a special place in my heart, so I am absolutely delighted that this was your favorite of my Olympic entries

I must admit that I got a chuckle out of Iroh's line about dragons not liking it when people are too clever, and I'm so glad it was a highlight for you as well.

Yes, Zuko will indeed understand when he is later and experiences that indescribable marvel for himself. That will be a shared truth and understanding that can bond uncle and nephew even more deeply.

It really broke my heart to write about Lu Ten's death and how much it grieves Iroh and makes him really realize just how awful the imperialist lies of the Fire Nation that glorify war and violence are. Lu Ten's death is just such a shattering death for Iroh that it brought tears to my eyes writing about it.

Yeah, I think that Iroh would have been too trapped in his grief and numbness to want to engage in a power struggle for the throne with Ozai. So I really wanted to capture that sense of grief and numbness.

Writing Ozai almost always makes me sick to my stomach. He is just so evil and unrepentant in his evilness. Like he never experiences a flicker of remorse for any of the horrible, abusive things he does and says, and he always has a way of finding the exact worse thing to say and do. So, yeah, it would have been extremely tempting to fry Ozai to a crisp right there, but Iroh is able to overcome that impulse and focus on trying to provide healing and support to a traumatized Zuko. Iroh is going to pour himself into being there for his nephew.

Aww. Thank you. So glad the beauty shone through in that bit since that little flashback on the beach of Zuko, Iroh, and Lu Ten always seemed so sweet to me and it was nice for me to be able to include it in my story.

I one hundred percent head canon Iroh as eloping and marrying for love so I am overjoyed that you embrace my head canon in that regard. I just totally picture Iroh as a guy who would marry for love and not politics, and that would be part of why he doesn't remarry and why his bond with Lu Ten was so deep.

The Order is one of my favorite parts of the Avatar series (really shows the bond between the Nations and how they all have something to teach each other) and it was such a treat for me to be able to explore the dynamic of the Order a bit in this Decathlon, and I am so pleased that you enjoyed those moments as much as I did writing them. Yay!

Oh, thank you! Writing the scene between Iroh and Izumi just warmed my heart and that line might have been my favorite in it, so it is wonderful to know that it resonated with you as well!

I couldn't resist having Iroh think in terms of pai sho, haha. I bet that type of analogy just comes so naturally to him.

I admit that I was particularly proud of that bit of prose so nice to hear you appreciated it as well.

The AU of Azulon taking Ozai's heir for Iroh to adopt and raise instead was a really fascinating one for me to write. In a way, it made more sense from a dynastic perspective since instead of Zuko being dead, he would become Iroh's heir, and Ozai does end up "losing" a son (whom he never really loved) and Iroh gets a second chance at raising a son he loves. And it gives me a wonderful excuse to write an Iroh adopts Zuko AU.

Zuko's capacity for love and that shared grief that he and Iroh share over Lu Ten totally had tears streaming down my cheeks as I wrote that scene. It was just a very raw and real one for me.

It was really interesting for me to look at the dynamic between Azula and Iroh since I hadn't given it that much thought before writing that story, and that conversation between them did become very emotional for me as a writer. Especially the part where Azula just flatly states how she doesn't believe in compassion because nothing in her life prepared her to believe in it, and Iroh feels this natural sorrow and compassion for her.

I like to hold out the hope for a possibility of an Azula redemption arc just because she is so young at the end of Book 3, and I think she was raised in a really twisted way by Ozai so I do wonder if repentance and healing could come to her eventually once removed from Ozai's influence. But it would be a long, hard road featuring many conversations like the one she had with Iroh.

I really loved the idea of Iroh learning how to deflect lighting from watching water bending techniques, so it was a real joy for me to be able to create a whole fanfic exploring that concept, and I am so happy that connected with you!

Iroh and Pack are two great characters, and it brought such a smile to my face to have them interacting with each other and engaging in some friendly verbal sparring matches.

That last story took me a long time to write because I wanted to connect all the different time periods together in a way that hopefully felt flowing and seamless and I wanted to capture that sense of hope in Yue's sacrifice.

Thank you again for the kind words, and I sincerely hope you will enjoy this bonus entry

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Title: Dance of Sun and Shadow

Genre: Action; Adventure; Drama.

Characters: Iroh; Azulon; Ozai; Sun Warriors; Ran and Shaw.

Event: Prime Time Coverage

Summary: Iroh's quest to slay the last dragon.

Dance of Sun and Shadow (Prime Time Coverage)

Iroh knelt before his father in the otherwise empty throne room. The flames –produced by the Fire Lord’s ceaseless bending, intended to intimidate and overawe any who sought an audience with the country’s indomitable, fearsome leader–formed an impenetrable wall. An uncrossable barrier between father and son. Divided the chamber into territories of flickering crimson-orange light and black shadow with ever-shifting boundaries as battles between fire and darkness waged.

“Father,” he said. Getting to the point quickly because his father despised time-wasters and disemblers. “I would beg a favor from you.”

Father liked it when his sons begged. It was the sweetest music to his ears. A reminder of his authority and power over them.

“A favor?” Father arched an eyebrow. Attention captured. Interest piqued. “What favor would that be?”

“Father, by the time you were thirteen, you had conquered the Hu Xin provinces.” Iroh folded his arms together beneath the sweeping sleeves of his red robes. A formal posture assumed when addressing a superior. One he hoped might mask his nervousness from his too-keen father. “I am sixteen and have never had such a moment of glory. I would beg the opportunity to prove my courage and mettle.”

“Your ambition does you credit, my son, but your position as heir to the Fire Nation is very different from mine.” Father’s usually severe face was strange. Almost soft. “By the time he had me, my father was an old man. I had to prove my strength swiftly so that none in the Fire Nation would doubt my right to rule after my father’s death and so that nobody in the world would dare to challenge the Fire Nation after I inherited my father’s throne.”

Father’s features were no longer soft but carved in sharp relief. Etched with the slight, smug smile of a man who, as a boy, had burned cities to the ground to proclaim himself and his nation victor over the ashes. “I did not have the luxury of time. You do since I am not in my hobbling dotage yet.”

“I know that, Father.” Iroh inclined his head. Deciding the situation required delicacy. It was never a good idea to step on a conversational land mine and have it explode beneath his feet. Charring him. “Still, I would ask the chance to prove my worth to you and the Fire Nation. This would be no disrespect to you. I only seek to honor you.”

Father considered this for a moment. Then demanded crisply, “You have a vision of what this chance would be?”

“Yes.” Iroh risked lifting eyes bright with eagerness to his father. “It is rumored that there is one last dragon. One that has not been killed. With your permission, I would go on a quest to find this last dragon. To hunt it down and slay it.”

“That is quite a quest for one so young to undertake.” Father studied Iroh intently before concluding curtly, “Nevertheless, I grant my leave for you to undertake it and will honor you greatly if you succeed. Take what soldiers you need to accompany you on your journey. I will not quibble over the details.”

Iroh hesitated and then said, “I was not planning on taking any soldiers with me. I would prefer to complete my mission alone, Father.”

“As I mentioned, I will not quibble over the details.” Father waved his hand dismissively. Irked as ever to have cause to repeat himself. “Go on your quest with my blessing, Iroh.”

Iroh left his father’s throne room. Packed his supplies. Gathered his weapons. Donned his armor. Saddled and rode his faithful komodo away from the palace. Toward the western fringes of the Fire Nation where the ruins of the ancient Sun Warrior civilization lingered. Dropping into decay. Fading into the misty niches of forgotten memory.

He suspected that if a last dragon did exist–if chancy rumor was correct–it would have sought refuge in the remains of the civilization that had first learned to ride dragons. The place where the friendship between dragons and humans had hatched as if from a warm egg.

He had, most dangerously, lied to his father. If a last dragon did still roam the world, Iroh had no intention of slaying it. Only of communing with it. Learning its secrets because his reading of dusty old scrolls had taught him that dragons were the first firebenders. He wanted to discover the deepest mysteries and truths of firebending from its first masters. If he found this last dragon, he would pay tribute to it, not kill it.

After over a week of hard riding, he reached the remains of the once-great Sun Warrior civilization. Unsure of what he would uncover in the ruins and not wanting to lead his beloved komodo rhino into danger, he dismounted.

Patting the creature gently on the back, he ordered in a whisper, “Stay here until I return for you.”

Komodo rhinos were fiercely intelligent. More than clever enough to understand and follow such a basic command.

Iroh didn’t know exactly why he whispered. Something about the ruins loomed like a shadow of death over him. Chilling him. Prickling his flesh. Alerting his every sense to the possibility of an unseen, lurking peril.

Because he felt as if the abandoned ruins weren’t so abandoned after all. As if he were being watched. Judged. Found wanting. Deemed worthy of punishment.

Forcing himself to be cautious but courageous, Iroh took a steadying breath and advanced warily into the remains of the Sun Warrior civilization.

He saw and avoided springing a trap. A trap that didn’t appear ancient. As if it had been set long ago by a people now gone from the world. As lost to history as the dragons as they had ridden.

A trap that looked new. Set recently.

He was so busy puzzling over the trap, its implications, and its origins that he didn’t see or hear the spear-wielding warriors leaping down from the buildings around him. Encircling him so that escape was unpromising at best and impossible at worst.

“Who are you?” The warrior who appeared to be leader of the group that had ambushed Iroh prodded Iroh in the chest with the tip of his weapon.

“I am Iroh.” Iroh raised his arms in surrender even as he permitted a defiant pride to permeate his voice. “Eldest son of the Fire Lord Azulon.”

“Humph.” The warrior snorted and shot Iroh a scathing glance. “Have you come without an army to conquer us in your father’s name?”

“I have not come for conquest.” Iroh shook his head. “I have come humbly seeking the last dragon.”

“Why would you seek the last dragon?” The question was scornful as the mistrusting inquisition continued. “To kill it?”

“No.” Again, Iroh shook his head. “To learn from it as an ignorant pupil. The dragons were the first firebenders, and I would learn from the last one if I can.”

“There is no last dragon here.” The warrior studied Iroh speculatively as if wondering if Iroh had truly traveled so far to learn and not to conquer. “There are only the first dragons. Masters Ren and Shaw. Not all who would learn the firebending mysteries from the Masters survive to tell the tale. Are judged worthy. Those found lacking are devoured. Consumed by fire.”

This sounded impressive and intimidating, but determined to prove that he was undaunted and would not be found lacking, Iroh lifted his chin resolutely. “I will take my chances. Flip my coin. Roll my dice.”

“You have bravery if nothing else.” The warrior grunted. “You will need it when you stand trembling before the Masters.”

Perhaps it was Iroh’s courage more than anything else that made the warrior lead Iroh–still surrounded by a suspicious entourage–further into the heart of the city. To a tiled pyramid mosaic depicting an azure and a scarlet dragon stealing fire from the sun.

The warrior–who seemed to be the chief priest among his people as well if his headdress was any indication–explained the legend to Iroh in a manner that managed to combine reverence with menace. “Long ago, when the world was new and had finished few revolutions around the sun, humans did not know how to harness fire. To build it or bend it. To use it to create warmth and light. In such a miserable state, they shivered in the cold and darkness every night when the sun fell from the sky. They were such sad, frail creatures that Ran and Shaw looked on their suffering with pity. The two great, first dragons flew up to the sun and stole some of its fire. This fire they breathed over the humans, who now discovered within themselves the ability to make and bend fire. The jealous sun, however, was not happy that Ran and Shaw brought fire to humans and taught them how to bend it. In anger, the sun hid its face from the world. That was the first eclipse. The first Day of the Black Sun when without the light and head of the sun, firebenders could not produce or bend any flame. When firebenders were at their most powerless and vulnerable.”

Iroh was overwhelmed by this lore. This peeling away to reveal a history that stretched back to the dawn of time. To the birth of firebenders. To the gift the dragons had bestowed on humans so many millennia ago.

He was even more awed when they took him to the temple where he learned the dance of the dragons Ran and Shaw would expect him to demonstrate when he awaited their fiery judgment.

With humility and gratitude blazing in his heart, he accepted a part of the sacred flame to nurse between his cupped palms. To fan and shield with his fingers and life force. To offer to the dragons in homage and reciprocation of the fire they had first given humans long ago.

With the dragons flying and swooping around him, he joined them in their dance of light and life. Their dance to spark heat and banish cold. Their dance to kindle hope and drive away darkness and fear.

The dance ended. The dragons perched and breathed over him. In their fire, he saw pure, radiant energy in every color of the rainbow because fire was light, and light contained every color.

Changed and shaken by this encounter with the transcendent, Iroh climbed down the long flight of stairs to rejoin the Sun Warriors.

“Will you report us to your father?” The chief priest asked Iroh upon his return.

“No.” Iroh couldn’t fathom such a betrayal of the sublime truths he had learned from the Sun Warriors. From Ran and Shaw who had breathed light and life into the world. Stolen fire from the sun for the sake of a feeble, pitied humanity cowering in cold shadows. “I won’t betray the secrets I learned here to anyone. I will tell my father that I slew the last dragon.”

So his father would more easily swallow this story, the Sun Warriors gave Iroh with the skull of a dragon who had died years ago. With his firebending, he charred the white bone to a barbequed black so it would seem as if he had dueled with it to its destruction.

Over a week later, he knelt once more in his father’s throne room. Presenting the burned skull of the dragon as the trophy of a battle he had never fought. At least not as his father envisioned it.

“You have slain the last dragon.” Father’s eyes gleamed with an approval that usually would have left Iroh warm from top to toe but now only made his blood freeze in his veins as he became stone cold. Cold as a statue in a winter garden. His lie was necessary, but it brought him no pleasure to lie to his father, who expected no deceit from him. “I will name you Dragon of the West in a ceremony hosted in your honor. Will that please you?”

“If it will please you, it will please me, Father.” Iroh ducked his head as he provided the proper, ritual response to his father’s generosity.

“It does please me.” There was a rare, radiant affection in Father’s tone. A feeling almost of sparking sunlight disconcerting from such a harsh man. “Your triumph pleases me, son. You please me.”

Father might have been pleased with Iroh’s victory but Ozai was bitter and went to no pains to conceal it at the celebration where Father bestowed the title Dragon of the West on Iroh.

“I know you lied and tricked Father somehow.” Ozai emerged from the shadows like a bat to remark loud enough for only Iroh to hear. Intended for Iroh’s ears alone. “You would never have been able to slay the last dragon. You lack the ruthlessness to do so. Blood is the one thing for which you’ve never had an appetite. The only food you can’t stomach.”

Ozai flicked a pointed, disdainful glance down at Iroh’s heaping platter of roasted duck in plum sauce.

Ozai himself was razor-thin as if sustained only by a diet of poisoned, barbed words.

“You shouldn’t speak about things you don’t understand, brother.” Unruffled, Iroh chomped into his ample serving of roasted duck. With Ozai, a calm exterior was often the most effective counter to any insult. “Though I suppose that would mean you’d never get the opportunity to open your mouth, and what an immeasurable loss that would be for the rest of us.”

“You rely too much on our father’s good graces.” Ozai gritted his teeth. Jaw audibly clenching. “But you won’t be his favored son forever. How will Father feel, after all, once his uncovers your falsehood? Discovers your deception? Unearths your betrayal. Fire Lords don’t like to be tricked, do they?”

“You have no proof to substantiate your accusations.” Iroh was weary of his younger brother’s envy. Tired of his taunts. “Approach Father on that shaky ground if you wish, but don’t be surprised when it caves and crumbles beneath you.”

“I will not stand in your shadow forever.” Fury flashed like lightning in Ozai’s eyes. “One day, I will be the one in the sun, not you.”

“One day you will be the one in the sun?” Iroh echoed. Chewing over his brother’s words as if they were a piece of tough, indigestible meat. Answering with counterthrust of his own because that was the rhythm of their relationship. Attack and riposte. Always and forever. “Hmm. That almost sounds as if you would be Fire Lord. Should I share this ambition of yours with Father?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Ozai hissed with all the venom of a viper. Face pale. Pale as curdled milk. As death.

“Try me.” Iroh squared his shoulders in challenge. “Then you will see exactly what I dare to do.”

He would protect the secrets of the Sun Warriors. Of Ran and Shaw. The Masters who had first taught humans firebending. The ones who had dared to steal fire from the blazing sun. The ones whose vibrant spirits he would honor forever. Until the last hot breath left his lungs.