Iroh's Tale

Chapter 1

He was 13 and I was 15, only a few precious months from being a man by anyone's standard, and many years from living up to the label. We were being idiots, "dueling" on the palace grounds. To be honest, we were in fact inflicting more damage on the palace grounds themselves than each other. Scorch marks on trees and burnt sections of grass made the court yard look absolutely abused. I remember thinking in the back of my mind that the grounds keeper would be most displeased by our charring of the property. This very well may be the last memory I have of my little brother and me as we were. After that night, our lives slowly but surely took a different course.

This day, though, was ours. It was not uncommon to see us sparring, so our elders around the palace only watched in amusement as brother took on brother in a fight for superiority that extended far beyond training even then. I loved my brother. I loved him more than I loved anyone or anything; never forget that as you hear my tale. I loved him as much as I, a selfish prince, could. More so, I loved myself, so pride and sibling rivalry demanded that I kicked his ass.

Ozai was magnificent. He was strong and fierce and vicious in a way that I found it hard to be. He took the offensive at all times, single minded in his quest to best his opponent. He was a true youngest child, always brash and brutish in trying to prove himself, never thinking his actions through before acting. I still snigger when thinking that one could easily liken his fighting style to a tantrum, he would charge and scream and pound his fists until he was satisfied with the outcome.

Our trainers were the best. Really, our everything was the best, because what else would you expect for the two crowned princes of the Fire Nation? They taught us well. We were taught as many styles of combat that were practical. Both of us could hold our own in combat, using our training with weaponry, martial arts, and fire bending. We both had the potential to be two of the greatest fighters in the world, and our trainers knew it.

…And in case you were wondering, yes, my little brother was stronger. He was two years my junior, and he was stronger. I was superior in battle, however, which I'm sure you can imagine drove him crazy. Ozai, for every other thing he was and is today, was incredibly ambitious. He trained harder than I did and ate much better than I did to maintain his form probably from age six. Agni love him, he sucked up to father in hopes of harnessing just a fraction of the attention I received. He worked to be what I was and more. Really, everything that he worked so hard for just came to me naturally, as it is most of the time with siblings. He worked harder and it showed, but I was still better.

This day in particular, I recall, was scorching. It was only April and already the city was sweating, and I mean this in the most literal way possible. The heat personified everything, it seemed. The buildings emitted steam and the ground cracked, splitting angrily with every rising degree.

Ozai and I aided mother nature in her quest to char the earth at every possible opportunity. As we sparred, the court yard could be likened much more to the scene of a devastating natural disaster than the site of tea parties and home of turtle ducks.

As I said before, my brother was always on the offensive. He came at me with everything he had, throwing wild punches and relying on brute strength. I only did enough to block his attacks. He was in full force today and charged me in such a way that I was forced to back up until I was on the edge of one of the palace's many fountains. It was not often that my younger brother was able to put me in this position, with few options and no where to go.

The "avoidance" strategy that I often adopted infuriated my brother to no end. He found it weak and considered it "running from a fight." Now, however, I was backed into a corner and he knew it. The smirk on his face told as much. There would be little chance to use his attacks against him from this sorry position.

….No, I'm only teasing. This was classic Ozai. As always, he failed to assess the situation and take stock of his surroundings. My little brother lunged at me with commendable speed. I sidestepped him easily, sending the young man hurling into the fountain.

Sopping wet and with injured pride, Ozai glared at me from the fountain. I smiled, hoping to come off kind and not cocky, and said:

"Wonderful, little brother! I was getting tired of sparring myself. A dip in the fountain sounds quite refreshing."

I plopped in unceremoniously and began splashing around like an otter puppy. Next to me, Ozai looked like the picture of dignity. He tried to look disapproving, but eventually he broke into a grin and began splashing around as well.

A few short hours later and I was longing to retrace my steps back to that fountain and to once again adopt the care-free attitude that I often would lay on extra thick to coax my little brother into having fun. It was growing darker, but not cooler, and I was sweating in the window of my father's study, only half listening to him lecture Ozai. A full moon was beginning to take over the sky as the sun sank lower on the horizon.

It was only when I heard my own name come from my father's lips that I tore my gaze away and redirected my attention to the Fire Lord.

"...and furthermore, what business do you have distracting Iroh? The eldest prince must maintain focus on his bending and his studies, Ozai," my father had a way of spitting Ozai's name that made it seem synonymous with 'foolish boy,' "...and I would hope that you would strive to do the same. You may have the luxury of slacking off, but your brother does not. As heir to the throne, Prince Iroh must not lower himself to destroying the palace grounds while scampering behind his hyper little brother, appeasing him by splashing about in a fountain in a most undignified display." The Fire Lord actually huffed at that last part.

Ozai was stiff as a board, keeping his back straight throughout the entire speech. He received each accusation without complaint, his countenance showing the shame he felt at displeasing his father and Lord. We both stayed silent until the older man was finished, and even after, allowing his words to sink in. Ozai didn't point out that I was abandoning my studies of my own free will. He did not blame me for initiating the sparring session, nor did he mention that I was the one who caused and encouraged the "undignified" stint in the fountain.

And neither did I.

I was the eldest son of Fire Lord Azulon, the crowned prince of the Fire Nation and heir to the throne. I was the golden boy, the favorite, and I could do no wrong. Nothing was ever my fault. I knew it, and Ozai knew it. I had always accepted it as a fact and I could only assume that my brother did as well. And the case was closed. My father turned his back on my little brother, and the young prince finally allowed his shoulders to slump and a hand to run nervously through his hair in an uneasy gesture that I recognized well from these meetings we had in the Fire Lord's study. We made eye contact briefly and my teasing wink was met with a small frown. The boy was too serious for his own good.

I leaned back once again on my seat in the window pane, letting one leg dangle outside. There was little pleasure to be had in those nights spent being lectured by my father on the heavy matters that being head of the most powerful nation on earth entailed. Often I felt smothered by his sentiments of propriety, power, and the affairs of the world. At least from my position, with half of my body exposed to the outside world, I felt as if I could jump out the window at any time and be free from the palace, and free from my father's words, and free from what it all meant.

My father had a few more words with Ozai, inquiring about his training and progress with his school work. He distractedly ran his hand along the volumes on his large bookshelf, forcing my younger brother to give a progress report to his back. I found myself once again shifting my attention to what was now the night sky until my father felt he had spent enough time conversing with the youngest prince, and sent him away with a wave of his hand a curt "You're dismissed."

Once Ozai had exited, I chanced a glance at my father. He had made his way over to his enormous map of the world and its divided territories, spread out on a table which took up an entire quarter of the room. I sighed and pressed my fingers to my temple, gently massaging in wake of the head ache that was already ensuing. In my days at the palace, my father and I spent countless hours alone, him speaking of the state of the world and our rightful place at the top and me mechanically reciting the things I learned from my history and government tutors that I was expected to say.

Don't get me wrong, it isn't as if I didn't believe in what my father was teaching me. My father the Fire Lord was a leader, a strong one at that. He was passionate in his beliefs and was adamant that I carry on his legacy as a ruler. I hadn't any other point of view but his to go off of, nor the inclination to seek one out. I respected his ways, I did. I respected him.

I respect him still.

But I was bored. I was restless in the way that all boys are when they are on the brink of becoming men. I didn't want to learn about what's going on in the world and the war from my father's summaries and his wild gestures to some map. I wanted to explore it myself and to help the war effort in a hands-on way, to become a war hero and be treated with a hero's welcome wherever I went, to be wonderful and brave and a leader in my own right, to be more than the golden boy Prince Iroh. And yes, eventually, I wanted to stand tall like my father and head meetings in the war room. Meetings that I wasn't even allowed to attend until months later, after my 16th birthday.

16. I have to chuckle at how old 16 seemed to me. I couldn't wait. 16 would be the beginning, I was sure of it. And looking back, I suppose I was correct.

One fact that I am privy to as both a former prince and soldier is that while the aggressor in a war may seem savage and thirsty, while blood is spilled and battles are deadly, the reasoning behind all of the terrible and wrong can seem so reasonable and right from the safety of a palace. My father would go on and on about how wonderful the Fire Nation was, how prosperous our people were, how our economy continued to thrive. He explained that we had the most advanced technology in the world and that efficiency of every day tasks was vastly improved when our technology was improved, and that we had to support our schools to continue to churn out competent inventors, business people, and workers to keep our country running smoothly and continuing to advance.

He also told me that the rest of the world was not as lucky as we were. He spoke of savages of the North and South poles, who could barely keep themselves alive when facing off against the harsh climate, let alone properly take advantage of the fact that they could hold a monopoly on sea food and furs in the trading industry. He spoke of the Earth Kingdom, which had plenty of factories and a steady production of goods which the Fire Nation would be willing to buy if only they didn't tax us so harshly, which was unfortunate not only because they had goods that were not readily accessible in to us, but because their economy could honestly use the revenue. Their poverty rate was staggering even then. My father lamented that their work conditions were shameful and that many people died on the job every day, as their factory workers had to run the machines using earth bending. Workers would literally bend themselves into the ground, practicing methods that we would kid about being from the "stone ages."

And my father the Fire Lord said, of course, that he could make everything better. He had a sparkling view of some distant utopian society where our prosperous nation would swoop in and make everything right in all areas of the world. He would recite these sweet sounding words to me just as his father did to him. We were to introduce our technology to every nation to not only make the quality of life better for their people, but to increase the efficiency of the production of goods and let our nation reap all of the benefits as well. We would teach them our ways and insist that they utilize our practices, form like governments, let their children be schooled under our teachers. And four nations would become one, existing in harmony, under the Fire Lord. For the greater good.

My father said that we were doing the Spirit's work, what should have been the Avatar's work. Finally uniting the divided nations. He said when the Avatar disappeared, it became even more prudent that we carry on his duty. I remember the lesson in Elemental History and the grave way my tutor spoke of the Air Nomads, how they were selfish and refused to hand over the Avatar so that we might raise him and utilize his might to carry out this sacred duty. I was taught that the Air Nomads didn't see our vision of balance, that they would have corrupted the young Avatar and hurt our chances of sharing our wealth and prosperity with the world. They didn't fit into the new world order, and so they simply didn't need to exist.

I can now acknowledge how ironic it is that my father thought he was fulfilling the Avatar's purpose, but when a man decides what his path is, he will take whatever twisted route which may lead him to his desired destination. My grandfather chose his path, and my father chose to follow.

You see, everyone eventually comes to their own crossroads. A time to choose. They thought they had chosen good, I do believe that. I have to. Because had my choice been made based solely on my father's words and the things I had learned within the walls of that palace, I would have chosen the same.

But, the path to one's crossroads can begin at any point at any time. My journey just happened to begin with a hot evening, a seat in the window, and the sound of Fire Lord Azulon's voice shoved to the background of my mind while I sat daydreaming about flying to the moon. It began with just the slightest of hesitations, and I remember not what my father was lecturing about that particular night but what was directed toward me at the end:

He looked up from his map. I somehow registered that he had stopped talking. I glanced over to see him looking at me expectantly, as if wanting the answer to a question. I shrugged sheepishly, looking back outside as to avoid his gaze. He sighed in annoyance. And then he said:

"Prince Iroh. I can not begin to fathom why it is you admire the moon so much," he shook his head, walking toward the window in a few purposeful strides. From my seated position, my father absolutely towered over me. He stood tall and proud as always, the very vision of power, the glow of the moonlight reflecting off his face only making him appear more intimidating. "Your head should be right here. Great things are going to happen very soon for our nation, for the world, Iroh. Things that you will be at the front and center of." He gestured to the map with his right hand, still intently looking at me. "The day that the Air Nomads breathed their last breath has passed. They refused to align with the new world order. And if it is necessary, we will char the very earth of the Earth Kingdom until they concede our power. Should any waterbender attempt to douse our flames, well, then..." my father gave me a smirk and directed his attention to the moon outside, as did I in his wake. "...they may find that the very moon that grants them power comes crashing right down on them."

And there it is. The reason that this seemingly ordinary day in the life of a spoiled prince sticks out so firmly in my mind. Even being who I was, as loyal to the Fire Nation as could be, I remember staring up at the full moon that night. It was so big and majestic and imposing.

I couldn't help but think that if the moon did come crashing down, it would crush all of us as well.