My Son
One short moment stretched out over time became his living nightmare. There was a battle, a sword, and the enemies. There was sound of metal swinging through the air and then the silence before the cry. Time didn't allow him to be shocked. All time gave him was those few moments where the enemy was distracted at there victory. In those moments they lost there lives. He doesn't remember how, all he cares about is his wounded mentor, friend, family, and guardian lying motionless on the dirt.
The gash is wide, cutting across most of his stomach. Blood escapes rapidly, he tries to wrap it to no avail. Too much blood. The silence is overwhelming his ears and pounding hard at his chest. He took no notice to the tears streaming from his eyes onto the dying man. One drop hit a closed eye. And it opened.
"Uncle," he gasped. "Stay with me Uncle. You're going to be fine, it's not that bad." He was trying to convince himself much more than his Uncle.
"Prince Zuko," his Uncle chocked. "It's my time-"
"Don't say that! You're going to be fine!" he yelled while holding back more sobs.
"Listen Prince Zuko, no one can change my fate now, it is too late. But please remember that you will always have honor. Ones, who fail to see that, have lost their honor in their blindness."
"No, no, no," he chanted over and over. This couldn't be happening. It was too soon, far too soon. "Please, Uncle."
"Remember Zuko," he whispered. "You know, I always saw you as my own son." His eyes closed, leaving a broken boy crying over a carcass. The carcass of perhaps the only one left who loved him.