Valentines Day post!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creator of Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Lu Ten
Capital – Fire Nation
Whereas waterbenders were most lethal when the moon shone, firebenders rose with the sun; Lu Ten was no exception. He tossed the bed sheets to the side and spread-eagled on the large four-poster bed, basking in the warming light streaming through the gaps in the curtains. After a fit of yawning passed, a smile suddenly spread across his face as he didn't have to attend a war meeting. However, the thought turned bittersweet upon realizing there was still the very slight possibility that he could be selected at the Reaping that day. This was Lu Ten's last year of eligibility to be chosen as a Tribute.
Personally, he didn't understand why teenagers from the Capital were thrown into bloodshed—in fact he didn't understand why any kids were pinned against each other in the name of revenge—when the intention was to punish the Districts.
He let the negative thinking slip into the void as he slipped into a red kimono with golden trim, left for him courtesy of the Royal Castle's maids, and tied his stringy hair in a topknot, accentuating his strong jaw and dark brows. Zuko and Azula, Iroh, and other members of the Fire Nation monarchy not so secretly disdained him for the obsidian, overgrown sideburns that stretched to his chin; though none would insult the Crown Prince to his face.
Servants rushed into the room upon hearing his motions from outside the two-story bedroom and assisted on grooming him for the Reaping, as if it was day to celebrate. They tied a red sash around his waist, embroidered with a golden dragon that glistened in the sunlight; pulled on the kimono until it fit his muscular body, crafted and chiseled out through years of intense and dangerous firebending techniques, to their liking; swiftly combed his hair and readjusted his sloppily tied topknot, tugging harshly on his scalp and eliciting a pained groan; laced his tigerdillo fur slippers, an item no average citizen of the Districts could even hope to procure; and hung ceremonial pendants around his neck.
Lu Ten was abruptly ushered out of the way, catching a comment about his tardiness from one the female servants bustling around his room. He proceeded to descend the stairs with hands following the metal banister shaped to resemble a slithering dragon, the sacred creature and national creature of the Capital, reaching the intricately tiled floor of the sublevel and hurrying to a dresser, where his eyes gazed over a dagger; the gift from his father had never ceased to amaze him.
Meddlesome and curious hands tentatively lifted the blade from the dresser and unsheathed the lustrous weapon. The sound of the bloodthirsty steel sliding free from containment was music to his ears.
'Never back down without a fight' was inscribed at the base of the blade in small font.
He imprisoned the dagger, ignoring its almost palpable pleas to be used on the battlefield instead of being stowed away, and tucked it in between the folds of his clothing before scuttling out the grand door, which slammed shut behind him. Apparently the servants were irritable today.
Toned legs, clothed in the kimono that lightly dragged across the black marble floor, carried the Prince of the Fire Nation to the atrium of the Royal Palace, which was jam-packed with royalty and commoners alike. Discerning eyes quickly scoped out the Fire Lord and the highest of nobles' location at the podium overlooking all the people in the ballroom, to where he dodged to and fro through the hectic crowd to reach.
Ascending the marble steps, sandals clacking against the ornate marble, he took a spot between Zuko, who readily welcomed one of his few kin that he could respect, and Azula, who didn't even acknowledge his presence as she menacingly smirked in the direction of the human horde.
Folding his arms behind his back and lifting his chin to show prestige and boldness, one of many postures hammered into his mind during his days at the Royal Academy, he stood statuesque as Ozai ushered the audience into silence; Azulon was far too old and exhausted to shush the crowd and Ozai was easily capable of puppeteering the masses like a string on his finger… some even believed he was slated to take the throne over Iroh, peacefully or forcefully.
Ozai held one arm out in front of him, inches from his hip, as the other waved towards the congregation before him. Once satisfied with the lessened volume, he cleared his throat and began to mastermind the people with words as sly as a weasel. "Welcome, welcome everyone. On behalf of the Fire Lord, we are truly honored to see you all here for the beginning of the 40th annual Reaping." The crowd came to life before Lu Ten, roaring approvingly and whistling to the speaker. "Today brings forth memories, good and the bad. Good in that today marks FOUR DECADES since the Districts committed treason and revolted against US, their generous government, and were barely quelled. We extinguished the same people who massacred our soldiers, honorary men and women who died for their country and their families, who will never see their faces again. These rebels stripped mothers and fathers from their children, showing the true side of humanity." Ozai clutched his heart, pretending to be heartbroken over people lost before he was even born—as if the Districts didn't suffer as many casualties—and wiped feigned tears from his eyes. Lu Ten was impressed at the man's acting skills, yet he knew the devil that lay below the bonhomous façade displayed to the world. He basked in the standing ovation, pretending to regain his poise. "Forty years ago we triumphed this great evil! Today marks the day when the Districts experience the same pain of losing loved ones! Each year, we get to experience this small amount of closure for the District's actions. They vilified and slaughtered, raped and ransacked, robbed and orphaned the people of the Capital. Through the Grand Attrition, we avenge the lost lives of our children all those years ago!" A deafening chorus of applause and cheering followed. After officially riling up the constituents, Ozai backpedalled two steps and gave a slight bow and handed over the limelight to the Fire Lord.
He was eating up all the attention he could get, like a famished tigerdillo. Lu Ten wished he was this passionate and able to sway a crowd without this little effort. Heck, Ozai hadn't made premade a script and was winging it in front of the nobles… to great success.
Azulon shambled up to front of the stage, flanked by bodyguards on either side. He broke into a coughing fit, body violently heaving as his aged lungs begged for airs, basically advertising to everyone that he was near the end of his life. The people went silent and watched for a few seconds before the hacking subsided, and the hunchbacked man spoke to them.
"Give a special applause to my dear son, Ozai, for his tremendous speech. Took the words right from my mouth…" The man started to weakly chuckle at his pathetic joke before it turned to fatigued wheezing. "That leaves me with nothing else to address. So without further ado, let the Reaping commence." Upon his final words, the massive gates to the palace swung open and the audience shuffled around, forming a straight path so that the Fire Lord and his kinsmen could exit.
Azulon's bodyguards, clad in metal plated armor with red-rimmed and jagged edges, escorted the almighty man down the aisle, keeping a hand on the rapiers hanging at their belts in case if any threat against the Fire Lord's life arose. Ozai, Iroh, and their children filed in respectively. Ursa, mother to Zuko and husband to Ozai, split away from the crowd and walked abreast to her husband. Lu Ten had to admit his aunt was stunning, garbed in a maroon gown with her long braid swung over her left shoulder and resting beside her heavily exposed cleavage.
As Lu Ten neared the entrance and his sight line finally cleared the heads of everyone in the outside crowd, the sprawling landscape of the Capital unfolded before him. Glittering skyscrapers and bustling highways rose above the lush, green canopy. Downtown, including the Royal Palace, was situated inside the crater of a long extinct volcano while the slums and less friendly sides of the city crept up the slopes of the mountain—built perilously around deep crags, frequently erupting geysers, and steep precipices. The colossal statues of previous Fire Lords standing at the peak, only seen when Lu Ten squinted his eyes, overlooked the entire city and imposed a sense of order and fear to the citizens. This metropolis was the crown jewel of the world, an unrivaled leader in wealth, fashion, and power.
The Royal Procession trekked through the courtyard towards the group of palanquin bearers waiting to carry the royalty to their destination. Azulon, Azula, and Ursa opted to take the relaxing route by sitting on their palanquin, a four-poster carriage with concealing curtains that was hoisted up and carried around by slaves so that the nobles received maximum comfort, while the men walked alongside the Fire Lord's transport.
The navigated through an avenue of menacing Special Forces soldiers, who kept the overly excited crowd at bay with assault rifles hanging from slings around their soldiers. Lu Ten and Zuko, the precious first-born sons to the to the Fire Lord's own male children, led the march a few yards ahead of Azulon's palanquin when they were met by flag bearers and the banners were forked over to their possession: Zuko, awkwardly carried a banner with a three-pronged, magenta flame surrounded by a black backdrop and twelve gold stars that represented each District while Lu Ten, who raised a flag of a golden dragon-the Coat of Arms of the Fire Nation-high in the sky.
They both stepped the edge of the balcony straight ahead of them and waived the banners in circular motions to the plaza directly below which was filled to the brim with the Capital's hundreds of thousands of teenage civilians, who were trained in combat and willing to fight in the Grand Attrition. No wonder Tributes from the Capital won a majority of the time. The adolescents excitedly cheered upon seeing Zuko and Lu Ten step forward, for they actually enjoyed competing in the massacre, as opposed to children from the Districts.
Palanquin bearers carefully set the transports down and retreated away from the public eye. Azulon swung the curtains to the side and gingerly stepped down from the carriage, raising a leathery hand and waving to the onlookers.
He shook hands with emaciated young woman with curves in all the right places, plastic surgery Lu Ten guessed, yet the enhanced chest didn't match her thin frame. Coupled with a black corset, pushing up her ill-fitted breasts and contracting her already unnatural waist, with gold laces crisscrossing her stomach; a maroon skirt, resting at the middle of her pale thighs; black stilettos, elevating the lanky woman higher off the ground, which clapped monotonously against the cobblestone; and an intricate pattern of cerulean and garnet strands of hair woven together to form a braid that reached to her lower back, she served to show the strange fashion sense in the Capital with an unspoken rule that one must wear as many contrasting colors as possible.
She handed him a microphone, pecked him on both cheeks, gave an expert curtsy, and receded from the spotlight to where she idly played with her locks of hairs as the Fire Lord beckoned out to the crowd. "Hello, hello everyone. Give a special thanks to my lovely assistant, Izuma." He gestured to the young woman, who gave a meek wave to all those down below. "I am honored that all of you could come celebrate the Capital's greatest tradition with us today."
As if they had a choice, Lu Ten retorted mentally.
"Today marks the fortieth anniversary of the Reaping and the Grand Attrition. Forty years of Tributes from the Capital proving their superiority and might. And this year will be no exception." Judging by the sudden hurrahs, the plaza full of teenagers completely agreed. "Are we ready?" An immense choir of voices gave affirmation. Azulon nodded gleefully, content that his citizens were riled up. "I will delay you no longer."
The microphone was handed back to Izuma as the LED television flashed to life behind her, displaying the Grand Attrition logo—a rough fist thrusting a bloodied sword sky high surrounded by a stars that represented all twenty-four Tributes who would compete. The first timers oohed and aahed at the screen, marvelous in both sheer size and clarity. "Is one of you ready to become the Capital's next Victor?" She pointed out towards the lively crowd, which roared in confirmation. She paced around the balcony, getting excited with the mass of teenagers, and gazed out into the endless sea of kids—one of which was certain to die. "Because I sure am." She lied through her teeth. Every year she visited the Capital and picked two kids randomly to compete, practically giving them a death sentence and sending them to their impending doom. Each time she had to put on an energetic poker face when in reality it destroyed her on the inside. Eventually she had learned to block out the misery brought on by meeting new kids every year and then seeing taken in the Spirit of Death's irreversible clutches.
"You guys all know the drill. We have a randomized system that selects a Tribute without any tampering or bias. The more ballots you entered, the more likely you are to be chosen. The ages of eligibility are between 10 and 18. The male Tribute will be picked first with the female following immediately after. Any person that is also eligible to compete and of the same gender can take the place of the person picked as Tribute with their consent. Any questions?" Of course not… children had been raised fearing and understanding the Reaping in great detail. "Then let the Reaping commence." Her heart sank in her chest; a child was about to get a one-way ticket to the Spirit World. "May the odds ever be in your favor." Oh, how she hated that mantra. If odds were in favor of a teenager from the Capital, it meant the other twenty-three Tributes weren't so lucky.
She gestured towards the screen and males' faces began to rapidly flash by on the screen—as if it was a digital spinning roulette wheel with quick beeps—signifying the commencement of the Reaping. Lu Ten's eyes perused the oscillating pictures and tried to pick out a familiar face, yet the images oscillated too fast for him to even pick out a single face. One seconds, two seconds, three seconds passed as the changing of images slowed. Lu Ten became antsy, as did the crowd, because the male was seconds away from being chosen at random. The dinging slowed as the frame settled on the unlucky person: the Capital's own noble, Lu Ten.
The whole plaza's simultaneously gasped, except for he himself and his father, Iroh. The people of the Capital greatly respected the particular member of the Royal Family and were crestfallen to see that he was going to be shipped off to suffer in the Grand Attrition. No one paid attention to the banner falling from Lu Ten's hands in shock, a usually treasonous action.
Lu Ten had frozen in his spot and his heart dropped in his chest. He was oblivious to the pompous and delighted looks on Ozai and Azula's faces; the two schemers could now rest assured there was the possibility that one of the obstacles in their path to the throne could be eliminated without their involvement. He was oblivious to his father's downcast expression, who collapsed to his knees and openly weeped to the fact that his only son could feasibly join his deceased wife in the Spirit World. He was oblivious to masses that silently mourned for him, their treasured Prince, even if he wasn't guaranteed to die. The only thing he wasn't oblivious to was the way his own body reacted. He was completely aware of his heart pounding profusely in his chest, throbbing in his ears and masking all the noise around him; blood turning stone-cold, his trembling fingers going pale; and the words repeating over and over in his head. Why me? Why did it have to be me?
The irony hit like a cold-hearted slap across the face… this was his last year of eligibility to be selected before living safe from the bloodshed for the rest of his life but he was still chosen against all odds. He had almost escaped the Reaping forever, yet karma's cruel clutches had metaphorically caught him by a hair's length and dragged him down in the end. Of the tens of thousands of males, he was the one sentenced to fight to the death. He wondered which spirit he had disrespected to receive this punishment. Karma wasn't prejudiced. Not even the Crown Prince or the richest person was exempt from its harsh penance. They were all cast to the ground without heed, dirt poor and bountiful sharing the suffering.
Izuma tried to formulate any excuses to pull Lu Ten from the massacre but to no avail. The rules were clear and he could only escape by way of someone voluntarily taking his spot. "O-Our male Victor will be our very own Crown Prince, Lu Ten, unless someone cares to take his position." She started sweating bullets, desperately hoping someone would put their life before Lu Ten, a boy who she truly respected. "This would be a true act of valor if one of you stepped up and put your life in danger for that of our dear Prince. Your sacrifice would show your unfettered love for the Capital."
Thousands of male hands thrust into the air, ready to willingly put themselves in danger to save Lu Ten's skin, but none higher than his own father. "I volunteer. I volunteer for Tribute." Iroh declared in a brittle voice, clearly strained by his sorrow and crying. The attention of the whole Capital turned to the aged, stocky man who stepped forward. "I will not let my child go through with this."
"Prince Iroh, I respect your courage and the love you express by protecting your child but I cannot allow you to volunteer for your child…you are above the age limit." Izuma regretted denied Iroh, although she was pleased to see the massive amounts of people volunteering for Lu Ten. "Any other volunteers willing to come forward?"
"I will." Zuko handed his flag over to Lu Ten before patting him on the shoulder and walking to the end of the balcony. Zuko took a quick glance back at Lu Ten, meeting his woeful eyes, then turned back to the crowd and saying, "I will volunteer for my cousin." He kept the brooding expression on his face—although people that were well acquainted with him could decipher it as a slight smile—as the crowd was thrown another curveball. "He's too good of a person to suffer a fate like this…instead I will atone my past mistakes by competing. I will regain the honor I lost." Lu Ten was surprised about Zuko's actions yet also not surprised. For the last few years, Zuko was hell-bent on regaining his honor from when it was lost while speaking out of turn at a war meeting…the same one his father burnt a permanent scar upon his face. "Cousin, do I have your permission to compete in the Grand Attriton in your permission?"
"You do not," Lu Ten responded, still quite unsure if he believed in his own words. Both he and the audience were surprised that the words slipped past his lips, although they audibly gasped.
"You never lost honor in my eyes, Zuko. In fact, volunteering shows you have vast amounts of it." Confidence in his words returned as he kept speaking. "I would be losing honor of my own by letting anyone volunteer. I see no honor in letting someone else risk their life for me when I was the one chosen fairly." He nodded furiously to the crowd, trying to reassure them and himself in the process. "As a Prince of the Capital, I must prove my ability by fighting my own battles. If I let someone else die in my place, I wouldn't be a deserving leader." With a hand resting over his heart, he pledged himself to his final decision. "I will compete in the Grand Attrition. I will emerge the Victor. I will prove myself worthy as the heir to the throne. I will survive for my glorious Fire Nation and my father."
Lu Ten turned to his father, who wept in disapproval of his son's decision and uncertainty of his fate. "Father," Lu Ten spoke softly, trying to garner the Prince's attention. Iroh raised his head, with tears evidently streaming down his face and worry all but written across his forehead. "I will live through this. I will prove myself as a Prince and your son." Iroh nodded, knowing that his son was one of the best firebenders ever to grace the earth and accepting his son had the best of odds of anyone to win. Yet, it didn't quell his fatherly concern. Lu Ten smiled back, completely confident that the Grand Attrition would be no match for him. "Trust me on this."
Iroh rushed forwards and heartily embraced his son, waiting for several seconds and Lu Ten's desperate complaints of being unable to breathe before contemplating releasing his son from the tight grip. After an onslaught of 'I love you's' from both sides, they stepped back from the manly hug and saluted the citizens.
Izuma stepped up, trying to distract the crowd and leave the two men to their father-son bonding moment. "There you have it, your truly honorable male tribute: Prince Lu Ten." She grabbed his wrist and raised his muscular arm in the air. The crowd erupted in applause and the woman melodramatically bowed several times in each direction after releasing her clasp on him. "The courageous man who won't let others fight and die for his own predicaments. Once he survives, which he most definitely will, he'll become a glorious Fire Lord in his bright future. Give him a round of applause!" The crowd did just that, creating the loudest standing ovation the teenager had ever heard.
Izuma flaunted her curled locks until the obnoxious combination of sounds pacified, upon which she lifted the microphone her cherry red lips and spoke, "Now the female Tribute will be…"
"Actually I have a request to be heard," Ozai audaciously interrupted while beckoning for Izuma to hand the microphone over to him, who nervously bestowed him the object without complaint. "Before I tell you my request, I want to congratulate my nephew and son for showing immense bravery. It takes a true man to put his life before others." Lu Ten, finally broken out of his self-pitying stupor, could tell Ozai's words were as sly and deceitful as a scrounging fire ferret in the streets. Ozai would most definitely be rooting against Lu Ten. "Now on to the main topic. It might not have become knowledge to the public quite yet, but my daughter, Azula, disrespected the Fire Lord at a war meeting. She single-handedly damaged my image and hurt our family's honor." The audience gasped, surprised that Azula, the ideal girl every parent wished their own daughters would emulate, would dare slander her authority. The Capital knew Zuko as the insolent child and Azula as the mannered and elegant child. "I propose that my daughter compete in the Grand Attrition in attempts to repair her personal and family honor she stripped." He ignored Azula's furious protesting.
The crowd immediately booed the courtly man, greatly opposed to it as they pictured the proposition as Ozai being a horrible father, by sacrificing his own royal daughter, and attempting to surrender Azula to her death because of her flippancy. "Does that comply with the rules?" Ozai inquired, the corner of his lips turning upwards slightly.
Izuma was well aware that Ozai was flipping the situation to his benefit—if Azula killed Lu Ten, he would have an easier path to the throne, or if Lu Ten survived, Azula would be dead and Ozai wouldn't have to fear her slitting his own throat—but couldn't deny his request. After all, Azula was eligible to become a Tribute. "I don't see any reason why we couldn't make that work. Are you sure you want you want your daughter to compete…with your own nephew?" She questioned through gritted teeth, appalled that he would readily let one of them die. "One of them will end up dead, y'know?"
"They both have everything to gain from this contest. Lu Ten, my dear nephew, strives to show worthiness for the Throne and Azula hunts after regaining her honor. One will fail in their endeavors while the other will achieve what they sought. If both lose their lives during the Grand Attrition, neither were worthy of what they sought." Ozai elaborated and the booing stopped. He had rationalized his reasons and they believed him, oblivious to the underlying motives that would bring him personal gain. Lu Ten was surprised to the extent of which Ozai had the civilians wrapped around his finger and how he could puppeteer them to the point where they believed in his justification of sacrificing his own family.
"It's final. This year's Tributes are your royal Lu Ten and Azula." Izuma concluded to the crowd, much to her chagrin. "May the odds ever be in their favor," She muttered before dropping the microphone to her hip, pivoting on her heels, and walking off the stage.
The Reaping in the Capital was over.
As if on cue, a berserk Zuko pounced on Lu Ten and chided him for callowness. "Why the fuck did you do that? I was going to take your place and ensure your safety but you did literally the stupidest thing possible. Why Lu Ten, why?"
"Zuko, I saved you because you don't need to fight for me. I can win this by myself." He didn't feel like explaining his reasoning again. Raising a brow, he added, "This will be an excuse to rid the Capital of your evil sister, who's a schemer and a disease and a threat to anyone one who lives. She needs to be taken down and I'll be the one to do it. Plus I'll prove to the world that I'm laudable and deserving of being my father's successor to the throne."
Zuko scowled, still brooding, as he trudged away upon realizing he wasn't going to get a reason he agreed with. Lu Ten sighed, knowing that Zuko would eventually come to see if from his point of view, yet he was still upset that they didn't see eye to eye.
Before he had the chance to turn and walk back to the Royal Palace, Azula approached him with an ominous smile, signifying trouble. "Looks like we'll see each other in the arena."
"Looks like it." Lu Ten disinterestedly responded, as she was the last person he wanted to talk to.
"Y'know, we could work together until we're the last two left." She was on par with her father in terms of ability to manipulate people into thinking what she wanted them to. Her arm surrounded his shoulder as she pulled him close as the cameras flashed at them; she was putting on a loving and friendly façade for the media. "Imagine us as the invincible firebending tandem. Cousins working together to overcome the unsurmountable odds. It would be a story for the ages, wouldn't it Lu Ten?"
"Possibly." He was sending very obvious hints with his one-word answers but she might have chosen to ignore them and focus her attention on annoying her cousin.
"We would make the best alliance in Grand Attrition history." He ignored her honeyed words. They were so sweet and appealing like honey yet undoubtedly held a sour secret beneath. "Do you think we could work together to the end…like family?"
"No." His answer was meant to hit her with as much harshness as possible. "You'll turn on me when I become too comfortable or end up betraying me in the end." With that, he strolled away from Azula before he felt her wrath.
His mind was a mixing pot of emotions and thoughts as he made his way to the Royal Palace, praying for luck in the following days and formulating strategies.
Now it was up to the Reaping in the Districts to pick out his other competition…
Tell me what you though of it through reviews.
Adios.