Chapter Two

It seemed an eternity before Iroh was able to gather himself and rejoin the others. What should have been a victory celebration among the young group was instead filled with sorrow and confusion, and he could not blame them for it. The plan had been to win, for all of them to win, and for all of them to return safely and live happily-ever-after. He remembered a time when he had been so naive, when he had planned to take the city of Ba Sing Se in the name of the Fire Nation without losing a single soldier. And he had failed miserably.

Katara turned to face him, only to quickly turn away again. "Do not be afraid," Iroh said and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You were not the one responsible for this."

"I should have..." the girl started to speak, but Iroh held a hand up to silence her and shook his head firmly.

"You did everything you could have," his voice shook as he spoke. "Sometimes, no matter how much we may wish it, our best is not good enough. That is not your fault." He was silent for a long moment, unsure if he could ask what was on his mind, if he even wanted to know the answer. He took a long, deep breath. "Where is he?"

The girl shut her eyes again, another sob raking her body. "Still there. In the courtyard. I wanted to bring him, but I..." she trailed off, and Iroh watched as her tears flowed once more. Unsure of what else to do, he hugged the young waterbender closely, trying to maintain his composure while among the others. "You should," she began once she had calmed a bit. "You should go to him."

Iroh nodded and stepped back. "Be with your friends," he said in a gentle voice. "They will help you more than you think."

He struggled to bring himself to the courtyard, knowing what would be there to meet him. Still, Iroh had to see his nephew, had to see the truth with his own eyes. It had been the same when his son had died. He hadn't believed the young captain who had brought the news to him, had threatened to see him discharged from the army and exiled from the Fire Nation for such a cruel joke. But it had not been a joke then, and it was not a joke now either.

Fresh tears stung his eyes when he saw Zuko, once tall and proud, lying in a crumpled heap on the cold, stone ground. Already his skin had grown pale, his body rigid. A sob caught in Iroh's throat as he knelt beside the body, as he hugged what remained of his nephew tightly, never wanting to let go.

"You deserved better than this, Prince Zuko," he spoke softly, his voice breaking. Iroh's own throne had been taken from him, but his heart had been filled with joy at the idea of seeing his nephew rule the nation, having no doubt that Zuko would have been the first peaceful Firelord for over a century... But now that would never happen.

Iroh glanced up to see Katara standing a respectful distance away. "I'm sorry," she apologized and stared at the floor. "I didn't mean to interrupt..."

"It is all right, child," Iroh replied and gestured for her to join him, watching as the girl hesitantly approach. "He always talked about you," he commented as he lay Zuko's body back on the ground, folding the boy's hands over his chest. "Even when he was focused on hunting the Avatar." The girl nodded and looked down at the body, pushing Zuko's hair from his face.

"What do we do now?" she asked softly, and it pained Iroh to see the young woman who had gained so much confidence over the course of a year appear so fragile, so broken.

Iroh took her hands in his own.

"We keep living," he spoke. "It is all we can do."

The funeral was held early the next morning. Iroh dressed in his finest robes and tried to keep his memory on the present, not on the past, not on his son's funeral decades prior. No, he needed to focus on his nephew. Zuko had deserved that much, at least.

Iroh had witnessed two royal funerals before that day, and as he approached the grounds, he could not help but think that three was entirely too many, especially when two of the three had been younger than himself. Especially when two of the three had been, at some point in time, destined to rule. Especially when two of the three had died in the middle of his grandfather's maddening, pointless war.

The funeral pyre was stacked tall, one of the most magnificent, most somber, structures Iroh had ever seen. He had told the builders to spare no expense, and to work harder than they had in their lives, and it was clear that they had. He tried to tell himself it was only a stack of sticks and twigs, but he knew they would not remain that way for long.

Iroh turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Aang the Avatar was at his side, looking far older than the twelve-year-old he was supposed to be. "I'm so sorry," the airbender spoke. "I never meant for anyone to get hurt."

"I know," Iroh nodded and turned back to view the pyre. He had insisted that only Zuko's close friends and those who had helped the Avatar be in attendance. He did not think he could handle the nation's nobility claiming that Zuko would have been such a fine leader, not when he knew that they had all supported Azula, had all talked poorly of the exiled Prince. Though he did find it odd that Mai was nowhere to be found.

He shut his eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and re-opened them, watching as Zuko, clad in the robes of the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation was carried to his final resting place. Iroh had wanted him to be dressed in the Fire Lord's robes, but the newly re-instated Fire Sages had protested. After all, the prince had never been crowned.

The General and the Avatar approached the pyre. Iroh took a long glance at his nephew's body before turning and nodding solemnly at Aang. Both took deep breaths before sending streams of fire to the pyre. Iroh watched for a moment before turning away. "He is with the spirits now," he said, mostly to himself, before joining the others.

He stayed long after the others had gone, until the last of the smoke had died out.