34. Tree
Mai perched herself on the branch, hiding among the waxy leaves. Azula would never respect me if she knew about this, she thought, finding a comfortable place among the gnarled branches.
The sun crawled higher into the sky, filtering through the leaves and leaving dappled patterns over her pale skin. Concerned about getting a sunburn, Mai didn't notice Zuko approaching until he was at the pond's edge.
Unaware of her presence, he knelt beside the pond and tossed breadcrumbs into the water. Several baby turtleducks swam up to him, eager for their afternoon feeding.
A rare smile found her lips.
35. Grief
They carried the casket to the unlit pyre, wearing blue, the sacred color reserved for ceremonies like weddings. Or funerals.
Iroh felt numb. As if winter itself had sunk its talons into his heart and frozen him.
Ozai laid a hand on his shoulder. Iroh turned, expecting a rebuke for his grief. Ozai's face was solemn, pitying. "Lu Ten was a child of fire. His embers will never die."
It was one of those meaningless platitudes people said when they couldn't think of anything meaningful. But Ozai had never understood kindness; perhaps such platitudes were the best he could offer.
36. Succession(150)
When the Fire Sages told him of the change in his father's will, Iroh was unsurprised. Hurt, yes. Disappointed, yes. But not surprised.
Perhaps he'd known when Ozai had claimed that Lu Ten's embers would burn on. Perhaps he'd known when he'd overheard Ozai confronting their father about the royal succession.
"If you're going to argue about this . . ." Ozai warned as Iroh entered the throne room. The aging general regarded his brother for a moment, then knelt in front of the dais.
"I will not challenge you," Iroh said, though he was certain of foul play. "You are Fire Lord now."
Ozai nodded. "Good. Then leave."
Iroh rose, folded his hands in front of him, and left. He didn't think Ozai understood the kindness he'd exhibited in stealing the throne from him. Lu Ten's death had left him bleeding; Iroh needed time to let those wounds mend.