Leaves From the Vine: Lu Ten Survives (An ATLA AU)

Book 0: Healing.
Chapter 1: Homecoming.

-[X]A Scarred Face: War always carries scars. Yours only marks your face. Now no one can even look at you without wincing in pain, in disgust, and fear.
-[X]Trauma: Every night you dream of falling rocks, of your friends screaming. Of fire and explosions, and a falling wall that just keeps bleeding red. There were so many… so many. And you can't sleep at night anymore. The nightmares can't hurt you while you are still awake.
-[X]A Ruined Reputation (Birthright): Your Father was always the popular one. He was Azulon's favorite. He was the one who was to succeed. Ozai always viewed you as a threat, always being vocal… or not, about his desire for the throne, how he could win the war that your father could not. Your status is now questioned and even Azulon thinks you are not fit for the throne despite your sacrifices and dedication.

You looked at the bandages that were on your face and felt the itching sensation that the bandages were causing. "Don't itch it." You turned to see your friend, Jaka, reading a scroll, its contents unknown as you tried to sneak an itch on it. "Out of all you have done since we left the trenches, I would have hoped that following the doctor's orders would be something a prince would understand how to do?"

You found yourself scowling at that, but the sensation remained. "Never been one to follow orders from someone who doesn't understand just what this felt like." Trying again, you tried to scratch it, but your hand was slapped by Jaka, who instead, used the sheathe of his sword. "Ow."

"I told you, stop it." He said as he went back to reading. "It won't heal."

"When did you become a healer?" You swore as you looked at the scroll he was reading, but he pulled away.

"When we had to run away from the rock throwers before we could win." There was bitterness in his tone. "Can't believe that the generals retreated. We could have won."

You didn't need to look at his hand to see what it had cost him. A couple of months on the mend, before being back in on the action. He loved to fight, same as you… before it all went wrong. "What are you reading?"

Jaka seemed hesitant to show you. "It's nothing."

You glared at him. "Don't make me pull rank."

Jaka then shrugged. "The only time that mattered was when you wanted to be in the thick of it, and the general wouldn't let you take part." He paused. "I don't think you want to read it."

"It will give me something to take my mind off of things." You stated.

Jaka was indeed hesitant to hand over the scroll. "Lu Ten."

"Give it to me." You ordered as you reached for it, and Jaka did not stop you.

You saw what he was reading and frowned, with a single tear falling down your single uncovered eye.

Casualty reports from your unit. The 54th Engineers. The Sappers. The ones that blew a hole through Ba Sing Se… the ones who should have been the heroes of the war.

A few names stuck out.

Kuzon, the lowly colonial boy who had been slowly working his way as your second. He always had that smile under his mask… you wondered if he was smiling that night?

Jiro and Mai, some low-born nobles who had been hoping to get officer commissions, but instead were forced into the grunt work, because they knew how to read and write. Called into action because of the counterattack.

You think they died quickly when a boulder crushed them when they were planting explosives on the inner wall.

Iroh…

You closed the scroll and put your hands over your face, ignoring the unbearable pain that your face screamed at you to stop.

Their faces looked at you, with… smiles. Like they were waiting for you. Expecting you to come forward.
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Sleep evaded you.

Or was it you evading sleep? You did not know, but you took a moment to walk the deck of the navy ship. The night crew and watch were not surprised to see you out on the deck again. But no one said anything.

You just walked across the deck, the steel and iron that was battling the waves. The smoke signaled progress forward… and backward in equal measure. Going far away from where victory was supposed to be.

This was supposed to be the end of the war. A final desperate struggle that would end in the Fire Nation's victory.

All you could see was your father looking back at you. His spirit was seemingly at peace as he watched you from across the waves. Waving goodbye to you as you went home.

That was the only comfort. The others were not so welcoming.

In your dreams, you saw your friends. Your comrades, and all those who died.

They just looked at you with silent amber eyes. Fire where their their eyes should be. Embers where once was life, burned out.

It was why you couldn't sleep.

They were not screaming. They were not resentful, angry, or upset. They did not blame you for all that happened. All that could have happened, if you had been better… If you had been better.

The ghosts in your dreams were everyone who died under your command.

The ghosts you saw in your dreams were silent.

Watching. Waiting.

The embers in their eyes waiting for you to lead them into battle once again.
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That is why you don't sleep at night anymore.

You didn't want to see them again. You didn't want to lead them again.
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Grandfather was not pleased to see you. You bowed before his throne and did not dare to look at his face, or even to look above to hide your face in shadow. Out of courtesy for his rank, and out of fear that your disgusting and disfigured visage… would only make his fear realized.

That you were marked by his son's great failure. That you could not succeed without your father's guiding hand. There would need to be blame placed for the greatest military failure of the Fire Nation's long history.

But the Great Hero Iroh was dead, along with many of his command staff. Though not all of them, much to your detriment. You had no authority over the army in those final hours when you were wounded, you were wounded, and you had been placed in the care of doctors, trying to keep you alive.

But they had managed a masterful retreat away from the city, saving the army, and all the lives that were left to be saved.

And you… were sitting in a tent, trying to stay alive.

There always had to be a scapegoat. In war and politics, the rules were the same. And all shared the suspiciously same story.

That Lu Ten disobeyed the orders of the Dragon of the West. And the Dragon was killed because of his son's foolhardiness.

Grandfather said nothing for a long time. He made you bow. Kneel on the floor as he thought about the next words he would say.

"You have robbed me of my heir. My Son. The Future of the Fire Nation." Grandfather's throne was bathed in flames and the room grew hotter with each passing word. "In your quest for glory, you did not follow your father's orders. And he paid the ultimate price for it."

You remained silent, thinking of the ghosts that still haunted you. They had followed you because they believed in victory, and that you would lead them to it.

Your father had trusted you.

You wanted to defend yourself. But there was a time and place for everything. This was not a time for emotion or outbursts against the Fire Lord.

This was a time for you to be quiet. But at least one thing could be seen as hopeful.

You could see Azula, Zuko and Ursa. And visit Mother's tomb… and see father be buried.

"I do not believe the generals who scurry for my favor, to not be blamed for their failings to finish the job that my brother died to put them into a position to win… and the Army will know it too. You were not in command, and my son never gave you any real authority besides your little brigade of engineers to train you." He paused, growing angry at your continued avoidance. "Look at me Lu Ten."

You rose to your feet and looked at your grandfather's face. You saw him avoid you.. "All the people will see, is a hero scarred by the war. Who has returned home to recover, so that he may return to the front. In due time."

You did not miss your Grandfather's gaze, or rather the lack of it. How he looked away from seeing your face as if he could not bring himself to even look at it anymore.

"It makes me wonder if you are fit to succeed on my throne." He said those words, and that made you flinch. You didn't expect to see the throne for a long time. When you were an old man with a family of your own. Yet… it felt strange to finally hear those words said.

You had been an heir for as long as you lived? "You know nothing of the politics of your court like Ozai. You are no skilled general like your father. You are… lesser than both. A crippling trait when the Fire Nation needs strong leadership."

You gulped but did nothing to speak. Instead, you listened. "Were you still a child, I would take matters into my own hands. Mold you as I did Iroh and Ozai, so that you would be ready to take my throne. But your father was soft on you. I can see it in your eyes even now."

His eyes were looking at your feet. Not your disfigured and broken face. "He did not do what was necessary to prepare you for his untimely death."

When you said nothing, he spat. "Speak! Why do you not defend yourself, your honor, as the Heir to my Throne!?" He coughed once, then twice.

The Ghosts were in front of you, clouding your vision and pulling you into a black void. Waving… demanding… Encouraging you even, to do one thing. Remain silent. Silent as they were.

And you obliged. Because you were more a ghost than a person now. A shambling spirit waiting to join them.

"Be GONE! Be Gone from my sight you mute! Leave!" Grandfather seemed to be out of patience.

So you bowed. And left.

There was nothing more for you here.

Nothing more anywhere.
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You were home. You were safe.

That was what the servants said. Lies to your face. Your bedroom hadn't changed. It was a room for a child… filled with scrolls, stories, academic work, and letters.

Things that didn't matter anymore.
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What do you do now?:
[]Visit Zuko and Azula
[]Bury your father
[]Speak to Azulon
[]Rest
[]Write in

AN: enjoy.