A/N: Originally written around May 2006. I took Iroh's comment from "The Waterbending Master"-"Ever since I lost my son, I think of you as my own."-and wrote a story around it. Before I even watched the second season, I thought that Iroh's son died during his siege of Ba Sing Se. Turns out I was right! So in this story, I divide my time between Iroh and Zuko's departure from the Northern Water Tribe, and Iroh's siege of Ba Sing Se. The first and last horizontal lines represent a jump between past and present timelines; all other horizontal lines represent a short passage of time. Rated K+ for character death and adult themes.
Disclaimer: Wonderstorm: I own Avatar? Really? Konietzko: NO. Wonderstorm: (melancholy sigh) Wonderstorm: Why can't I make money with this story? DiMartino: Because WE'RE the only ones who can use Avatar to make money. Wonderstorm: (huger melancholy sigh)
Sons of the Dragon
The salvaged raft drifted gently on the calm ocean. The two princes were not yet out of sight of the Northern Water Tribe.
"Ever since I lost my son . . ."
Those words, spoken to his nephew over a day ago, echoed in Iroh's mind. Not a day passed that he did not think of Ru and ache inside. Eight eternally long summers had slipped by since his notorious siege of Ba Sing Se . . . since the day his son had died . . .
"Sir, the number of casualties is over two hundred, and the sixth division was unsuccessful in their attempt to breach the eastern wall."
General Iroh made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. Lieutenant General Myu's unsatisfactory report brought an unwanted end to an already exhausting day. Nearly two years they had been sieging Ba Sing Se, and Iroh could see now why it was chosen as the capital of the Earth Kingdom. The sturdy rock walls were all but impenetrable; the earthbending soldiers fought like caged rhinos. He had weathered two winters outside this city, and he had lost many soldiers. Still, the Earth city continued to hold them off, refusing to surrender, determined to prevail, and Iroh was feeling very tired.
"Pull the soldiers back," Iroh snapped; his voice was harsher than he meant it to be, and he was sorry. Myu nodded, took from his belt a small bison horn, and blew two sharp blasts. The steady roar of fire faded, and the Fire Nation soldiers plodded over the scorched ground away from the gates of the city. Ba Sing Se would survive another night.
As Iroh turned away, he saw one familiar face that made him smile. Ru loped up to his father and bowed respectfully.
"General Iroh," he said quietly. The boy not yet man lifted his head, grinning, and Iroh cuffed his shoulder fondly. Ru's optimism was contagious.
"This city is more trouble than it's worth," Iroh sighed, weary yet cheerful. Ru laughed.
"You'll manage it. The Dragon of the West has never yet lost a battle."
"Yes, well this dragon would like to fly home to his nest soon." Together father and son retreated to the safety of the forest.
The siege dragged on, day after day, and Iroh lost all track of time. The hot, fiery battles all seemed to melt together, and Iroh wished desperately for it to end.
The day started just like any other. The rising sun shone its pale light on the carnage below. The eastern wall had been breached, and earthbenders and firebenders alike were fighting for their lives. Iroh dodged lethal blows and flung fire nimbly, barely managing to avoid being struck down. The world was a mass of dust, screams, and bodies; and suddenly the earthbenders were retreating. It was over.
The soldiers who were still standing wiped their smudged, bloodstained faces and began to walk among the fallen, feeling each body for any sign of life. This was not a standard Fire Nation procedure; it was General Iroh's procedure. Save those who still lived. Leave those found dead. Iroh considered it the worst part of the battle. The empty, staring gaze of dead men and boys haunted his dreams many a night.
He glanced up from the soldier he had been examining and froze. Before him lay a body smaller than the rest, a body he knew. He stood up and staggered forward.
The thin, agile frame, the dark brown hair . . . Iroh couldn't breathe. He knelt down and turned the boy over. The cloudy, unmoving eyes of Ru stared into his own.
No . . .
He pressed his palm to his son's chest. There was no steady, pulsing heat—just a stale, thin sort of warmth hovering about him. Lifting Ru's mangled body gently, Iroh pulled him close and buried his face in the tangle of hair. Tears, more tears than he thought he could ever cry, poured down upon the ground. The earth seemed to grieve with him; it shifted and rolled as though it, too, were crying.
He could hear shouting as though from a long way off. At that moment, someone grabbed his shoulder.
"What are your orders, sir?"
Iroh looked up. Myu stood over him, his face tense. Then Iroh understood. The earthbenders had returned. It was they who had made the earth move. He opened his mouth and found he couldn't speak. He swallowed and whispered,
"Alert all the troops. We're going home." Myu stood still for a moment, then blew one long, droning note on the bison horn.
"Retreat! Fall back to the ships!"
Hundreds of black-and-red-armored men ran, back to the wagons that would take them to the ships. Iroh carried Ru all the way. He did not know how he made it away from the earthbenders; he could barely see his way through the fog of tears. All he knew was that he was climbing into a wagon beside his men, they were shouting to the rhinos, and all were riding swiftly away. His last glimpse was of one of the Earth Kingdom soldiers, who wore a numb expression so like his own. A horrible thought occurred to Iroh:
Was it possible that he had killed that man's son, too?
The soldiers boarded the ships hurriedly, some carrying the wounded on their shoulders. On the deck of his ship, Iroh was wrapping the body of Ru into the folds of a deep red Fire Nation cloth.
His son was dead. The battle was lost. And he was returning to the place that, before today, he had called home.
Iroh wandered aimlessly through the corridors of his brother's palace. Three days had passed since he had arrived in the Fire Nation in disgrace.
Had he really only been home for three days?
He reached out to stroke the intricately carved walls wearily. Many times he had walked through this palace with Ru, and they had laughed at the carvings together. He leaned against a pillar as the tears streamed down his cheeks soundlessly. Would he ever be able to laugh again?
A low noise caused him to look up. His small nephew stood alone outside an open doorway, knuckling away tears of his own. The poor boy, barely eight summers grown, was too miserable to make a sound. Moving forward slowly, Iroh reached out, took Zuko's hand, and led him silently down the hallway . . .
"Ever since I lost my son . . ."
His next words drifted through his mind.
"I think of you as my own." He looked across the small raft at his nephew. Zuko had been sleeping for most of the morning, ever since he had returned from within the Northern Water Tribe. He was curled instinctively into a tight ball in order to keep warm, and, even as he slept, he continued to wear a defiant, angry look upon his face.
Iroh made his way carefully along the boards until he was kneeling beside Zuko. Tenderly, he reached out and cupped Zuko's cheek in his hand, stroking gently. Zuko mumbled indistinctly and rolled over in his sleep. Iroh smiled through his tears. Ru was gone, and as much as he desperately wished that he could turn back time and undo Ru's death, he knew that he may as well be trying to touch the stars in the sky. There were times when he wanted to join his wife and son, but Zuko needed him as much as he needed his nephew. And Zuko had nearly died that day on his ship . . .
Iroh closed his eyes and listened as Zuko inhaled and exhaled, his breathing even with sleep. How he loved this boy.
His boy. Zuko did not belong to Ozai or anyone else.
He sighed wearily and lay down. Finally, the Dragon of the West slept. In his dreams, Ru grinned an impish grin and Zuko laughed softly . . . and Iroh was content.
*The End*
A/N: I don't know beans about war, so this story didn't turn out very true to a horrific battlefield. But I like it that way, because you wouldn't see any grisly scenes in Avatar, so this story is true to the show. I didn't know Iroh's son's name, so I made one up. In case you're wondering about the story's title, I figured Iroh had two sons, one biological and one adopted. And they were sons of the Dragon of the West. Read and review? Please?