Okay, decided to put up my drabbles in one place. This one is one of my favorites, I am posting them in no order.
Title: Breathe
Word Count: 376
Warnings: attempted murder, suffering.
Challenge: #22 Latin Phrase
Notes: "Dum spiro spero" (While I breathe, I have hope)
Iroh forced himself to look down at the pitiful figure lying on the bed. Iroh had to punish himself and burn this image into his mind. He had foolishly allowed this tragedy to happen and now he would have to face the consequences. If only he had said no, if only he had been more stern with his nephew, everything would be all right.
This morning, the face had been the handsome face of Prince Zuko, Heir of the Fire Nation, the face of the future of the land. Now it was heavily bandaged and swollen. The once white bandages were stained with red blood and yellow pus.
Those were Fire Nation colors. Iroh had never realized how the red pennants of his nation had been dyed with the blood of the young. That was what war was. Old men bristling about and young men dying. "What's his future?" Iroh had asked a few moments ago.
"Well, that all depends on if his fever breaks. It's very high and it's putting him in a high amount of pain. He may not survive the fever. Then there is the infection. At best, he will be scarred. The extent of how badly is unknown. At worst, he could be deformed and blind. I just don't know," the healer had replied.
Iroh had a plan of his own. He had always carried a poison in his pocket, in case of capture. The deadly liquid was quick and painless. Within a few minutes, Zuko would not feel any more pain. A few drops and Zuko would be where no one could ever hurt again.
Iroh did not know how he would go on each day without Zuko's smile. Yet, what other choice did he have? This must be done. The Zuko he knew was gone. He lifted the bottle, ready to touch it Zuko's lips. His pain was almost over!
As he touched his lips, Iroh felt the boy breathe. It was slow but steady. Was that imagination? Yes, there it was again. Zuko was breathing. Zuko was still alive, clinging stubbornly to that obdurate will to live.
Iroh pocketed the bottle, listening to the music of Zuko exhale and inhale. It gave him hope.
A/N: And so begins a journey.