***NOTE*** I'm editing before I post the final chapter; the updated chapters are in this format ( I think it's prettier ^_^). If you're reading this for the first time I would wait for the updates, but if it's not your first time - I think you'll like the updates ;). I just want to thank you all for being so patient and loyal to the story. I have not forgotten any of you; I would've finished if it was not for you guys keeping me going. Thank you so much.

-Zorroami


600 Days – The Tale of Lu Ten

Original Story Written

by Zorroami

Based on the Nickelodeon TV series

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Produced by

Michael Dante DiMartino & Bryan Konietzko


Prologue:

All my life I've wanted to be a soldier fighting along side my father to bring honor and glory to my country and my family; a man who would protect his people from the barbarians that threatened our way of life and bring order to the world through our great conquest. It is after all our duty as the strongest race to aid those born inferior to a better life, even if they cannot see it at the time. All these things I was taught to believe – mind, body and spirit. Even as a child I knew that anything less than becoming a great general like my father would be looked down upon by the elders, unacceptable by my grandfather. Weakness. That's what they drilled into my young mind – the ultimate dishonor. If I was to dawn the thrown one day – the throne my grandfather sits on now and his father before him – there would be no room for weakness. The other nations could rebel and attempt to break down all that we have struggled to build up since the first colony was established over one hundred years ago. How proud that day would be when I would take the responsibility of leading our grand nation to victory in this war – how honorable. I would bring honor to all those who ruled before me and my future heirs would also be honored, fore they were sired into a great and noble family.

But, how different it all turned out to be.

'Great' and 'noble' I now know can't be used to describe my family. We have lost the very definition of the words the moment my great-grandfather proclaimed his superiority over the other nations; and now like sheep-pigs to the slaughter we continue down the path of death. There is no honor in war. There is only suffering. I watch day in and day out how it plagues my family, how they have suffered these past years. The very thing that I had hoped for all my years of childhood – the ceaseless training I received to be where I was – is a sham. I was blinded by my country's own blindness; spurred on with the cheap propaganda and slanted history books. I know that I am partly to blame for all that has happened because I believed the lies and allowed myself to fall into their trap. Never once did I question what was being shoveled into me until it was too late – and for that I have paid the price. For that my father paid the price. It grieves me to know that there is nothing I can do now to help anyone now. Had I known all that I do now, things could have been different. Yet, there is no use dwelling on what could have been – what should have been. Honor. Honor. Honor. You cheapen the word the more you say it and I can safely say that we throw it around far too carelessly.

If it had not been for honor . . . I would have my life.