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They had pronounced Lu Ten dead by noon—when the dust-streaked sun over Ba Sing Se blazed brightest. A fitting end for a prince of the Fire Nation, murmured Lu Ten's allies.
General Iroh arrived just as the sun began to set. He would have come to see his son sooner, he claimed quietly, if it weren't for the shock that had rendered his limbs stiff and slow. He approached the shrouded corpse at the pace of a particularly weary anteater-sloth, and the men observed that the General's once proud features were sagging as though his very facial muscles were grieving.
Iroh lifted the cloth. He stroked Lu Ten's slack jaw, his hollowed cheeks, ran a finger under the shadows beneath shut eyes.
"What were his last words?" Iroh breathed.
The men shuffled. They had anticipated Iroh's query in much fear. Not a soul in the room had been with Lu Ten during his final moments, and so not a soul could recollect anything other than his own hammering heartbeat in the midst of thick battle, his own panicked pleading as he fought to resist death.
The colonel that sat by Lu Ten's limp fingers rose to meet the General's eyes. The colonel was a man clever, clever enough to have earned his rank at a young age. He had been the closest to Lu Ten, and therefore he was the most favourable to Iroh. So when the lies fell from his tongue, he felt not a dash of remorse.
"'I am, above all, pleased to have served my country to the end.'" recited Colonel Long. He had lifted the line from one of the old war journals he had read during his studies. He did not expect Iroh to be familiar, not when those journals had belonged to a lowly soldier forgotten entirely by the royal family. "General, I was by the Prince's side in battle, and was given the great honour of being his confidant before he passed. I assure you that he fought most admirably, saving myself and our soldiers without a moment's hesitation."
The men struggled to restrain collective sighs of great relief. Each of them were reminded of the Colonel's smooth tongue, and were grateful to him and his quick thinking. Lu Ten's supposed last words were vague and generic enough to be spared from suspicion— of course the son of the heir to the throne had died a patriot. Not even the General could deny the idea.
Iroh let out a shuddering sigh. "He said that? Truly?" At Long's bow of assent, Iroh sighed once more. "I wonder," he went on, "if I could have uttered the same, had it been me who perished, and not my beloved Lu Ten."
The room had been still before; now, not a limb so much as quivered. The men were stunned, needless to mention. Treason had entered their ears and many were afraid of punishment for even the crime of bearing witness. Stunned still, were the men at hearing the treason from the widely respected General Iroh, the Dragon of the West, son of Fire Lord Azulon. Granted, the General was grieving terribly, and likely not in his right mind— and besides, his words were of harmless musing—
But the men were tense anyhow.
".... If I may, what do you mean by that, sir?" Long asked tentatively. He fingered the trailing, thin wisps of his beard. "I was under the impression that you, most of all, would gladly sacrifice yourself for the good of the Fire Nation— you have said as much yourself before, I recall...."
Iroh spared Long an unfeeling glance. "I have indeed, I admit. And I admit, too, to being awake at long last, from a long sleep.... I have only left my dream to step into a nightmare, and I do not believe this one shall end. I no longer have my only solace, my Lu Ten. I no longer can keep up the good faith in front of you all. You are welcome to betray me, if I disappoint."
"Betray you? Sir!" Long stood from the bedside stool, his mouth working silently for a beat before he continued, "I understand that you are mourning, sir, but you cannot mean to abandon your post, not now, when we are so close to victory!"
Iroh was lowered over Lu Ten's body, and he was then whispering in Lu Ten's ear. Long, who was the nearest, could not catch what Iroh was saying to Lu Ten, though he assumed that it was something of the sentimental sort.
"Sir," Long repeated.
Iroh turned his head to face him, but otherwise did not move. "I notice," he said, "that you, and these soldiers, do not seem much saddened."
Long refused to falter. He did not even pause to puzzle over Iroh's accusation. He merely said, "I cannot vouch for others, but I must tell you that you are wrong, if you'll forgive me, General. I have stood by the Prince for many a year, and I owe the success of my career to him and his infallible strength. I shall miss his wise leadership. In his place, sir, I shall strive to better our outcome— I shall make this siege a success. I will aim to witness the conquering of this stubborn city. And I believe that this is how the Prince's death shall be best avenged."
"What is it that you remember of my son's strength, and his leadership?" Iroh asked.
Long said, "I remember much. Prince Lu Ten's fire lit flames of courage in our hearts. In battle, he lifted us to our feet whenever we wavered, he did not flinch in the face of danger, he was steadfast in his honour—"
"Stop," Iroh said.
Long stopped.
"You wish to take my son's place? Very well," Iroh said, at last rising. "I shan't be around to stop you."
The soldiers murmured amongst themselves. Colonel Long clenched the hilt of his sword. The sun disappeared over the horizon, and shadows crawled through the partings of the tent. A torch was lit. Iroh made the motion to leave.
"Sir!" Long stood in front of the exit, brows furrowed in apprehension. "You can't leave. We need you here. The army won't be so quick to follow me, they have rebelled against even the Prince before, and without your presence there will be no firm order—"
"Do as you like," Iroh said. In his hand was a lock of thick, dark hair. No one has noticed Iroh cutting it from Lu Ten's head, perhaps it had been just a moment ago when he was at Lu Ten's ear, but how had he done so that quickly, that silently?
Iroh repeated, "I shan't be around to stop you."