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Owned by Fire	By : Andartha Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Het - Male/Female Views: 16516 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Avatar: The last Airbender and all the characters therein are the intellectual property of Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko and I, like all the other fans, only get to play with them every once in a while. I make NO profit from "Own

Chapter List
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Summary:
After Ozai’s defeat, Iroh and his brother’s former slave meet for a little chat and a cup of tea.
Author’s note:
Pairing Ozai/OC.
Het.
Starts about 3 months after A:TLA. Contains flashbacks.
Sequel to “Owned by Fire” and “Scattered by the wind”, but (again) can also be read as a stand-alone vignette.
Warnings: Mention of slavery; humiliation, non-con, NC-17 and trips down memory lane.
IMPORTANT: NOT death-fic, NO character death. Everybody gets out alive and appearances can be deceiving ^_~
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“Did I…..did I hurt anyone? I can’t remember…..I….they…I’m sorry.”
She cast him a short glance, her blue eyes rimmed red, then looked down again, head bowed; unmoving but for her hands that fluttered in her lap like a dying bird.
Iroh did not answer right away, instead handing her some tea. Steam rose from the brightly painted cup, playfully curling in the autumn breeze; at odds with the sombre mood. Holding the cup stilled her hands, but from her tense posture, Iroh could tell that tea and a friendly ear would not suffice to solve this problem.
He sighed wistfully. To reach the top of a mountain, one had often to walk strenuous paths.
When Ozai had been found dead in his prison cell, Zuko had recalled Iroh from Ba Sing Se immediately. That had been three days ago. The funeral was scheduled for tomorrow, four days after the death; enough time for each of the elements to release its’ hold on the dead man’s spirit and soul.
Iroh had spent the days since his return being busy indeed. He had gone out for supper with Ming, the pretty prison guard who had been so kind to him during the few months where he himself had been imprisoned and who had, until a few days ago, also guarded his brother. He had spent endless hours in the prison’s kitchen, trying to wheedle the recipe for Moo-Sow Stew from the head cook. He had played many, many games of Pai-Sho with anybody he could badger into a game. And yet, so far, all his delicate investigations and his careful questioning had yielded no hint of there being foul play involved in his brother’s death.
So now he was having tea with Ozai’s former pleasure slave, who, upon hearing of Ozai’s death, had completely lost it and wrecked his brother’s sumptuous bedroom, using water-bending skills nobody had known she possessed. It had only been thanks to the swift on-scene arrival of the some southern water-tribe members, including their own water-bender, Katara, that further catastrophe had been averted.
He gestured to a delicate porcelain dish filled with pastries, which was sitting on the tiny lacquer table between them.
“Please: Have a sweet biscuit with your tea. There is nothing you need to worry yourself about.”
After all, the cut on Hakoda’s throat where she had nearly sliced his jugular had been small and wasn’t really worth mentioning.
Hesitant, but obedient to his request, his guest picked one of the sugary wafers sprinkled with candied ginger. They were quite good and went well with the ginseng tea.
Iroh shuffled the silk cushion on which he sat around a bit to make himself more comfortable and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the sun setting beyond the jagged mountains surrounding the capital. The small part of the palace gardens where he had set up everything for their meeting was shielded from prying eyes and ears by a copse of ornamental maple bushes, their leaves a riot of russet and gold. It was quiet but for the chirping of a few cicadas. Soon the leaves would start too fall and winter would be here.
Winter had also been approaching when he met his current guest for the first time. How many years ago was that? Seven? Or was it eight?
.......It had been almost exactly a year after the event that had marked the beginning of the darkest period in his life…..
His son’s funeral had been held in view of the snow-capped peaks, not too far from the outer wall of Ba Sing Se, breached a mere week ago.
Four days before, Iroh’s world has still been intact. He had even been in a good mood that morning, studying the maps and discussing tactics with his Lieutenant Generals. They had besieged Ba Sing Se for 600 days already, but victory was sure. He had felt it in his bones; had seen it in his strategy unfolding like the bloom of a perfect chrysanthemum lily. He had been laughing at a particularly dirty joke a young officer had made when there was a commotion at the entry to the war room. It had irritated him. He had looked up to see what the emergency was and had seen the attendant bearing his son’s swords. For as long as this siege had lasted, Lu Ten had NEVER parted with those, even going so far as to keep them beside his bed. In those few heartbeats, Iroh’s whole world had come apart.
Watching the wind carry his son’s ashes to the skies, Iroh had asked himself for the first time if the chance at conquering Ba Sing Se was worth the price they were paying.
In the mornings that followed, when the blessed oblivion that sleep had brought ceded to the agony of knowing he would never see his son again, he began to realize that it wasn’t. So, shortly after the funeral, he had declared the siege of Ba Sing Se a failure and had sent his army home.
He had not followed his men back.
In Omashu, the first signs of tender green had been sprouting from the trees when King Bumi traded tea and rock candy and stories of loss with a golden-eyed, scraggly traveller.
The midnight sun was high in the heavens above the Northern Water Tribe’s main city as Master Pakku played Pai Sho with the same traveller. They spent days playing and philosophising about how to live on when a part of you had gone missing forever and which things in the world were worth living for.
At the Eastern Air Temple, apples had been hanging in the trees, ripe and sweet, but time had yet done little to dull the pain of his loss when Piandao, the younger brother of an old schoolmate had brought him even more bitter news: his father was dead, his sister-in-law exiled and his younger brother had taken the throne that should have been Iroh’s.
A year before, the Dragon of the West would have been furious at the treachery and would have raised an army to claim back the throne which was rightfully his, all without thinking twice about it. Now, he found that he just didn’t care anymore.
He had only returned home to see if maybe he could salvage something from the smoldering ruins of his family. He didn’t need a soothsayer to figure out that a happily ever after probably wasn’t in the stars for them, but he had to try.
Ozai had certainly been making that difficult. Iroh actually had had to file a request for an audience to speak to his brother. The Master of Protocol had kept him waiting for a few days, his smiles lopsided and fake as he reassured Iroh that the delay was simply due to his exalted Highness, the Fire Lord, being very, very busy. When the request had been finally granted, Iroh hadn’t been summoned to the Throne Room at midday, as court ritual had demanded, but to Ozai’s private quarters, late in the evening.
The new Fire Lord had obviously thought that publicly humiliating his elder brother was a good way of driving the point home that General Iroh was out of favour and no longer in line of succession.
When Iroh had arrived home, his quarters in the family tract of the palace had been cleared out and all his furniture and his possessions had been moved to a small, slightly derelict mansion in a part of the Capitol, where a lot of old military commanders and minor nobles had their residencies.
On the evening of the audience, Ozai hadn’t sent a palanquin to pick Iroh up, but then, Iroh hadn’t expected one. Instead, Iroh had walked all the way to the private quarters of the Fire Lord, a suite of rooms within the palace, connected by little gardens. There was a music room, a library, a room for physical fitness, several living and sitting rooms and baths, a strategy room, …anything the sovereign of a country might desire for his work and his comfort. Iroh had expected to be shown into the library or maybe the strategy room. He had not expected his brother to receive him in his bedroom, a room which had also been their father’s.
When he had been small, Iroh had played hide-and-seek in that bedroom with Ilah, their mother, hiding himself behind the rich crimson and gold tapestries or beneath the huge bed with its’ scarlet and copper drapes.
As bedrooms went, it was large enough to hold a sizable orgy. Right then, apart from himself, it had held only two people: his brother, who had been comfortably reclined on an opulently padded diwan, and a young woman, who had been kneeling right beside Ozai on the ground. She had been naked except for the artfully tied ropes holding her in position, accentuating her breasts and spreading her knees as far apart as possible. Her hands had been tied behind her back and her eyes downcast.
Not completely able to mask his surprise, Iroh had inhaled sharply. He had anticipated further humiliation, knowing his brother’s need to cement his superior position. He had not anticipated being made part of another’s degradation.
A short glance was all the acknowledgement Ozai had given his brothers’ entrance. Instead he had focused on the girl, whom he had been feeding a series of fat red grapes from a lacquer bowl. Grape for grape, he had commanded her to open her mouth and she had obeyed, her body rigid as a marble pillar. The first grape she had chewed furiously and Ozai had janked her head back, his hand buried in her artfully arranged braids. He had bent down to whisper in her ear: “Easy now. I want you to savour these grapes. Suck them. Lick them. And then carefully swallow. You’re going to need the practice”.
Iroh had cursed the fact that he had such fine hearing.
Finally Ozai had turned to his brother.
“Can you believe she tried to bite me only yesterday? Obedient slaves are so hard to come by these days, and this one is still a bit of a barbarian.” Ozai had smirked, his gaze sharp on Iroh. The meaning had been clear: was it equally hard to come by obedient brothers?
Iroh had raised his eyebrows, the epitome of innocent questioning. “Maybe she doesn’t like red grapes?”
“Hah.” Ozai had smirked. “She will learn to like whatever I choose for her.” And as the smirk deepened into something darker, Iroh had felt an icy chill tingle down his spine. Letting the servants find him drunk and disorderly for the next few mornings had suddenly seemed like a bright idea. Rumours that his son’s death had been too much for him had been already spreading and all he needed to do was to confirm them. After all, he had to show his brother that not only pleasure slaves could learn their lesson.
Without hesitating, he had bowed deeply to his brother…..his sovereign. “I’m sure she will.”
The appreciative smile Ozai had given him had utterly failed to reach his eyes. “Yes, she most DEFINITELY will. Dismissed. The head steward will see to it that you are comfortably settled into your new home and that you are paid a weekly stipend, as is your right.”
Seven years since that night. Maybe eight. Three or four of them spent playing the sedate, self-indulgent, slightly absentminded old man, broken by the loss of his son. Three years travelling the world with Zuko, the one good thing that remained of his family, raising and teaching they boy like he was his son. Almost one year chasing the Avatar. A few months fighting openly against the malevolent kraken the Fire Nation had become and helping the Avatar and his friends to defeat his brother. About three months helping his nephew and the Avatar reshape the Fire Nation and with it the world.
And yet, the few short moments he was now spending to drink tea with the woman who used to be his brother’s pleasure slave seemed long by comparison. Maybe because seeing her brought back so many unanswered questions and regrets.
“I remember you”. Startled by the whispered words, Iroh looked up from his reverie.
She was looking into the distance, gazing at the setting sun just as he had a moment ago. “I DO remember you.”
He bowed deeply to her, hands on his knees. “Please, accept my most profound apology for being part of your embarrassment all those years ago.”
For a few heartbeats, her dark mood broke and she laughed a bit. “It was actually a relief to have you there. Never would I have expected someone from the Fire Nation to blush while witnessing my humiliation. Least of all the brother of the one hurting me.”
She grew solemn again. “I would actually like to thank you. If I hadn’t seen that there were still people in the world who cared, Fire Nation people, I’m not sure if I would have made it past that first year with him.”
“Heh….well…”. Iroh scratched the back of his head.
She turned to him, looking him straight in the eye, something she hadn’t done before.
“Is he really dead? I think I remember the head steward telling me that he died, but sometimes I still see and hear things that aren’t there.”
Iroh looked at the cup in his hand as if he could find a different answer there. “It is true.”
“How?”
“We don’t know. He was found dead in his prison cell. We suspect he might have been murdered, but so far, our investigations have turned out nothing suspicious. It seems like he just willed himself to die.”
She closed her eyes, sorrow written into every line of her face, and silent tears started to seep from between her lashes. To his chagrin, Iroh took note that his teacup, filled with deliciously warm tea just a few seconds ago, was now rimmed with frost, ice forming fast on the surface. But to Iroh’s relief, the destruction she had wrought a few days ago wasn’t replicated.
Tea and cookies had become insufficient to deal with the situation and so Iroh left his comfy cushion to sit beside her. He gently patted her back, making mellow, soothing noises, and she leaned into his touch until he was cradling her in his arms. Silent crying turned into quiet little sobs and he could feel the wetness of her tears seeping through his robe where her head rested on his shoulder.
“I miss him.” His robe muffled her words, but his hearing was as fine as ever, so it didn’t matter.
It took Iroh a moment before he could answer, and he had to clear his throat, which had suddenly gone tight, before he could do so.
“He was my brother……and I miss him too. Most people wouldn’t guess that there were things about him that anybody COULD miss…but I remember him as he was when we were younger. Many of the good things that I now see in my nephew I used to see in him too. Heh…..can you believe, as a boy, he was kind and a little shy. He liked calligraphy and learning, and as young men, we spent hours in the library, plotting and planning the things we would do when I ruled and he was my most trusted advisor. He had some amazing plans for reforming the school system, so every kid would have a chance at getting a higher education.”
The memories of better times became more vivid with the telling and Iroh couldn’t keep a bittersweet smile from his face.
“I remember the morning I left for the Earth Kingdom. Ozai saw me off at the docks, to wish me well. He was holding Zuko’s hand and little Azula was riding on his hip because she wanted to say “bye” to me too, but she was too sleepy to walk that early in the morning, so Ozai carried her. I guess I was absent from home too much and too confident in the Fire Nations’ infallibility…and so I missed it when my brother completely stopped caring about his family and about the good things in life and became entirely absorbed by his quest for power. I think I will always regret not looking out for him more. But then, at that time, our family and our nation were still blinded to the truth.”
The old general sighed deeply. “I had always hoped that one day, my brother would find his way. End the war. Restore peace to the world….and to his family. I wanted my brother to live.”
She had listened intently and her tears had subsided as Iroh shared his memories of his brother with her. As Iroh finishes, she righted herself, rubbing her splotched and tear-streaked face with her hands. Iroh dug in the sleeves of his robes and came up with a handkerchief, which he offered to her. She accepted it and loudly blew her nose.
“Thanks for understanding.” Her smile was a bit unsteady, but there. “No one else here would”.
Iroh quirked an eyebrow at her. “Hmm…especially not your family?”
She laughed, a dry, mirthless sound. “Especially not my family. Least of all my brother. Being the whore of the man who nearly destroyed my people is bad enough….but admitting to loving him? I can just picture it.”
Her face pulled into a bright, cheery grimace. “Ooohhhh….Ozai was a TOTAL beast, but, ya know, he could be SO sweet an’ luvin’….ESPECIALLY after beatin’ me up a little, but really, such a nice guy when he felt like it.”
She dropped the fake cheeriness and snorted derisively. “If I’m lucky, they’ll think my time as your brothers’ slave has driven me mad. But I know I won’t be able to quietly listen to them celebrating his death and pretend to share their joy. Sooner or later, they would KNOW that I miss him, loved him…and they’d feel betrayed. And I don’t want to see distrust and worry and sadness grow in my brothers’ eyes as days go by. But I can’t lie to him either.”
She fell silent for a moment and the chill in the air sharpened. Finally, she hissed like a cat that had had its’ tail trodden on. “I’m not ever going to be rid of Ozai now, am I? His curse will haunt me ‘til the day I die.”
She looked aside, jaw rigid and nose curled in distaste. “I knew I had some hope of dealing with my feelings for him as long as he was alive. I hoped that one day, I would be ready to face him again, whole enough to tell him that I was over him and all he did to me. I hoped that one day, I wouldn’t care anymore whether he had been able to change into the good man he could have been or not. But now he’s dead and I’ll be forever stuck in a prison of “maybes” and “could-have-beens””.
Inwardly, Iroh sighed in relief. If anything, in all the years of dodging his brother’s spies (while secretly masterminding a conspiracy or two of his own in order to help good people defend themselves against the Fire Nation), his inherent skill at reading people had been honed to perfection, and he trusted his judgement on this one: She WASN’T involved in his brother’s death as he had feared she might be. For that, her grief at the loss of his brother was too genuine, as was her wish for Ozai to be still alive.
He had been suspicious at first, when the search of her possessions, which he had ordered, had yielded detailed reports on the developments at court since the defeat of his brother; hidden in a secret compartment in one of her trunks and written by her hand. She could have been a spy. She could have been an assassin. She could have been a madwoman, secretly using her waterbending skills to murder her tormentor. Her rampage in his brother’s quarters the day of Ozai’s death certainly hadn’t spoken for her sanity, and it might have been the continuation of violence secretly enacted earlier at the prison.
It would have been sad indeed, but not unthinkable, that during her enslavement, Hakoda’s sister had gone as mad as that other Waterbender, Hama, that Katara had told him about.
To his relief, all he has found is a young woman, hurt, confused, but ready to deal with the cards the fates have dealt her. For all that her feelings for his brother are twisted and warped by years of abuse, Iroh considered the anger she had shown at what Ozai has done to her and others as a very healthy reaction.
So Iroh smiled, poured both of them another cup of tea, which he firebent back to the proper temperature. She took the cup he offered and he amicably patted her elbow.
“Ahhh….do not be too hasty in thinking that a broken past, like a broken mirror, can not be repaired. I have learned myself that time does much to heal what you believe cannot ever be made whole again. Your family loves you and you love your family, and that is a strong bridge that can help people cross even the deepest chasm.”
“Hah! You loved your brother and it didn’t help him, did it?” An angry little furrow appeared between her brows, but snarling and spitting like a platypusbear, she wasn’t anymore, so Iroh figured things might go well after all.
“You are right, but who knows? Maybe it was only because his time was cut short. If he had lived….there ARE things that can change a man.” Iroh heaved another sigh, even deeper than the one earlier. Concerning the circumstances of his brother’s death, he had gained all the knowledge he needed…but there were other things he needed to know, things he has asked himself since the last time he saw his brother.
He looked her straight in the eye, golden-brown meeting sky-blue, and popped the question.
“Tell me, when my brother went to fight the Avatar, was there any good left in him?”
Her shoulders sagged and she looked down at the hands clasped in her lap.
“No. In the end, all that was left was a monster that gloried in bringing the world to heel. Destroying everything it touched. He was cold, inside and out; full of grim pride and satisfaction at finally ruling the world. But there was no spark, no joy. He was miserable….and he didn’t even notice, too blinded by what he thought was his brightly shining destiny. He chose power and glory over the pleasures of calligraphy, over the love of his son and over you and over me. And you can’t tell me those simple things didn’t make him happy, because I saw him smile when he was with me and I saw him smile when he told me about how he watched you and Zuko build sandcastles, just like you used to build sandcastles with him, and his smile was warm and kind and so fucking HAPPY……..but being happy JUST WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM.”
She was shaking with rage now, her hands balled to fists.
“There was a time where it wasn’t good enough for me either. I only learned to cherish it after I had lost what I loved most: my son.” Iroh said softly.
She looked at him, her expression fierce. “And Ozai had only scorn for his. He loved no one. The only things he cherished were power and domination.”
Iroh glanced up at the sky, where pale blue was darkening to a soft purple. She was right. Even if pushed by circumstance, people had a choice. When and where had the Fire Nation and his brother started to make the wrong ones?
He cleared his throat. “Growing up in the Fire Nation, especially in the royal household, it was difficult to learn to appreciate love and happiness. We were taught that both were dreadful weaknesses, and to be avoided at all cost.”
She opened her mouth to respond to that, probably something not very flattering, but Iroh held up his hand, asking for her permission to continue. She shut her mouth, which settled into a grim line, but let him continue.
“From the days my people first settled here, this has always been a rough realm to live in. There is not much land where you can plant and harvest food. The sea is often stormy and fishing is a dangerous business. There are earthquakes. Volcano outbreaks. Here, just the strong used to survive. And because strength was essential to our survival, only the strongest were allowed to rule. The members of our family have always been famous for their strength, their self-confidence and their audacity. However, with these traits it is the same as with fire itself: if not tempered by compassion and honour they will destroy everything within their reach. And we lost both the moment our grandfather, Sozin, attacked and wiped out the airbenders. It poisoned our family and our people. I was only lucky to realize in time. My brother and many others were not.”
“That’s an explanation…but no excuse.”
“No, it isn’t. But maybe understanding will help both of us heal the wounds the past has inflicted on us.”
“Maybe. But what about the future?” Her look was challenging.
A slightly mischievous smile crept onto Iroh’s face…..and camped there. “Hmmm….after the funeral, I will be going back to Ba Sing Se, to my tea shop. It is very busy these days and good servers of tea are hard to find! If you would like, you could come with me. It would give you time to make peace with the past, and I would be happy to have a server as pretty as you at the Jasmine Dragon.”
That got Iroh an eyebrow quirked at him. “An accomplished waterbender, certainly accomplished enough to blast your brother’s private quarters to smithereens….as a tea server?”
She slowly sipped some of her tea. “You know, Ozai used to curse the fact that you were so much older than him….and that many of your friendships and alliances had been forged long before his birth, so it was very, very difficult to find out any details about the espionage network he was certain that you were running.”
She gestured towards the sheets of paper that were peeking out from under the cushion Iroh had left when he came over to sit by her side.
“And reading the reports I wrote to keep myself occupied? And then going so far as to bring them to this meeting?” The snort she gave was not very ladylike. “Only a tea server? Or were you planning on using me as a bit more than that in case this little chat went the way you hoped it would? I am not stupid, GENERAL Iroh, Dragon of the West!”
Iroh laughed heartily. She was as sharp as he had suspected and she had found him out. “Yes. A tea server. And an agent for my spy ring. The peace my nephew and the Avatar are building will need protecting, and I think you amongst others will be very well suited to the job.”
She huffed a little, as if put out by the fact that Iroh had dared to even question her support for those who had defeated her master, her lover, her tormentor. But then she grinned at Iroh and nodded enthusiastically.
The easy bits taken care of, Iroh grew sombre once more. “It is Fire Nation tradition, that on the night before the funeral, the family will sit with the dead, to bid them good bye. Maybe you would like to sit with my brother’s remains tonight?”
“Yes….yes I would.” And for the first time, her smile was warm, if a little wistful
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Owned by Fire