Before you read: Hello lovely readers! The following are just some need-to-knows before you read, ok? Ok! This is a darker Fic than most, but I can promise you that it will be deep. And yes, the prologue is hard to read, a bit gruesome (it is rated T you know), and depressing, but I promise that it won't always be that way. It is a Friendship Fic. Also the character's ages are a bit older (example: Zuko - 20, Sokka - 20, Katara - 17, Aang - 15, Toph - 15, Azula - 17, Mai - 17, Ty Lee - 17, Iroh - Old), it had to be done to have this Fic make sense. And in the chapters to come, I will always have italics for flashbacks. One last important note, always read my AN's because usually they are rather important. I think that is what you need to know, just for the prologue right now, enjoy.

Thank you, and this prologue is dedicated to my wonderful BETA's, storm-of-insanity, and forgetmenot45, without you, this Fic would not come to it's full potential!

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WARNING - Character Death.

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Disclaimer - I do not own Avatar or any of the characters, this plot, however I do own.

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“It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at the worst if he fails at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

- Theodore Roosevelt. From a speech given in Paris at the Sorbonne in 1910

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Prologue: The Power of Sacrifice

It all seems too real – being tortured by a past I can’t change, a past that I wish I could rewrite with all of my heart. This nightmare won’t leave me, I am bathing in its malice, in its utter cruelty, and I know that as long as I live, it will always linger in my mind – tormenting me. As long as I live.

I have never been one to sleep away long blissful nights. I often struggled while sleeping, my mind bringing forth grueling images of my memory. But now, now I cannot sleep at all, I cannot escape the pain. It is relentless – destiny, and fate, in its brutality.

How did it come to this? How in the world did it come to this?

It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

One would like to think that heroes are always supposed to be victorious. One would like to think that all stories have happy endings, where there is no sacrifice, no loss, no grief, and no pain. But we all knew, at one point that if we were going to win, if we had any hope of triumph, there would be sacrifice, there would be loss, grief, and pain. It is the price that we all paid; it is the price that comes with war. We all knew it.

I remember being on edge, on the day of battle. On that fateful day, the one day that would shatter the entire world's dreams and hopes forever. I remember hearing the roar from our diminutive scrap of an army; we had so much hope then. We had so much spirit. We were so sure of victory.

I remember looking over the edge of the boat as we prepared in silence for what was to come. The mechanical marching of the army before us would have made any grown man shudder. But we were not just ordinary men. As we neared the empty port, well aside from the fifty thousand man army that stood on its border, waiting for us, the silence was eerie. We should have known it then, we should have sensed it. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

The silence screamed for us to leave, to turn back while we could. But my Nephew, he was too stubborn; he had waited for this day for six long years. He would not give it up for just some silly "Feeling." Training, sparring, studying, planning, the man was a miracle worker. One would think he was immortal, that he never slept; actually I know for a fact that he didn’t for the most part. He worked tirelessly, he was a machine, and earned himself the respect as a General in the army. He could have taken control of the entire military, if he just asked, but as the honorable man that he was, he wanted to earn his position. Zuko quickly gained all of the men’s admiration; they would follow him into any battle, they would follow him to death. He led in silent example, stunning the men with his capability, spirit, master Fire bending, and his extreme loyalty. Zuko had a charisma to him, one that even I found entrancing.

Above all, I should have sensed the silence, the presence begging me to speak against fate’s will, against this day. But like my Nephew, I too, had waited far too long for this, far too long. I remember Aang hovering above our small fleet of boats on the Bison of his. You could sense the tension radiating off of him, even though he was just a kid, surprisingly enough he was far more mature than I could have ever thought him to be. His sense of duty was one to rival Zuko’s, and that in and of itself spoke volumes about the young boy. With every night drawing closer to the eve of battle, every inch of his child-like attitude and innocence disappeared. All but an inch. With every morning he became more secluded, he concentrated on generating his powers – bringing them to their fullest capability. By the end of it all, I did not even consider him a child. He was a man, and an honorable one at that.

I remember listening to the Water Tribe warrior begging his sister not to come. He did not fear for his own well being, he feared for her fate. He thought of nothing else, the boy was stubborn that way. I remember listening from my room as she screamed at him. She knew that it was as much of her duty to help the Avatar as it was his. Which in truth, it was, if not, all the more. But Sokka would rebuke anything she said, he had to find an excuse to any point she brought up, he was too afraid to lose her. After the death of their mother, and sadly their father in a sea battle, he couldn’t stand to see the last surviving member of his family be mercilessly slaughtered by the Fire Nation.

I remember listening to her asking him why he was allowed to fight, why he can go and be the hero, why he could stand against the face of evil, and she could not. Why she could not fight for Aang, for their parents. I also remember listening to him finally give in, I watched as she looked him solemnly square in the eyes.

“I’ll be fine Sokka,” she stepped forward and squeezed the air from his body, hugging him like it was their last.

Within seconds she left, running up the stairwell to prepare herself for the oncoming battle. He fell against the wall, utterly alone in the dark hall as she left.

“Have you ever been able to feel death coming?” The boy had asked me when I came out of my room, in full Fire Nation armor. I never willingly entered into battle without my full ensemble, it was a tradition. I sighed and stood there, not the least bit surprised to see him.

“I believe that each person knows, or can sense when their time is coming,” I stood next to his sulking form.

“And what if it is not your death that you sense?” His voice was so distant and hollow. Though I knew what he spoke of. Rather, who he spoke of.

“We are about to face the greatest battle of our lives. One that many believe will claim all of us. It is normal to feel death calling. We all do.” My words had no effect on him, and I knew they would not, but it was all that I could offer.

“I know you fear for your sister, we all fear for those who are closest to us. But we cannot stop the inevitable. If she does die, it will have been doing what’s right,” I sat next to him, draping my arm over his shoulder.

The boy said no more. We stayed in a comfortable silence in the dark hall, awaiting the call of battle.

I remember standing on the ship deck with my good friend, Toph. We had met so long ago, she had been so small and surprisingly powerful, she also had shut down her emotions completely to the world. Though, since then I have learned many things about Toph. Yes, she was stubborn, but in her stubbornness was her strength. Toph was possibly the strongest person I knew, not just physically, but her will, her will was her true strength. I remember her powerful little fists clutched so tightly that her knuckles turned completely white. She was completely silent, but her clouded eyes were closed to the horizon, almost as if she were trying to keep herself from weeping.

“I don’t want to die.” Her weak voice popped out of her mouth. “I know that doesn’t sound like me, but every time I try to tell myself that everything is going to work out, that we will be okay, I just know something is going to happen. I try to forget my fear… but I can’t. I am afraid… I don’t want to die.”

“No one does, but we cannot stop it if the time does come.” It seemed that this day, I could not find the right words, the one’s that normally came to me so easily. I could offer no comfort. Perhaps, it was because, I too, felt as they did.

“Iroh, something is wrong, I can sense it, and I just know this is not right.” She tried to plead reason for her fear. I should have listened.

“It is just nerves. Everything will go as planned.” I answered her monotonously; my mind was off in the distance. Perhaps in some way I knew what was going to happen, I just refused to admit it.

I remember gathering my own private troop of men as we boarded another boat to attack from the Northern shore. Before I had left, Zuko came to me, knowing that this could be our last chance to say goodbye.

“Never give up without a fight.” I said before gathering my Nephew in a bear hug. He was not the one to talk before battle. But he did return the hug and offer a smile. Something he had learned to do over these last few years.

I remember quietly speaking to my men on the land, as we put the plan into action. We were to clear the palace completely of its guards so that Aang and Zuko could have a safe entrance.

But it didn’t happen the way we planned.

They weren’t supposed to know we were coming.

My men were ambushed; Azula and her minions finished most of the men off with precision. Azula was not fazed one bit by the gruesome sight, she was trained to kill, it was a second nature for her. She did not stop, even when my men begged for mercy.

Two escaped, along with me, we had to find Aang and Zuko. We had to tell them that it was a trap.

But as cruel as fate is, I was too late. Far too late.

One would think that after so much experience in battle, with all of my wisdom, that I could have done something more. In fact, I take the blame myself.

I should have known.

Aang was already entering the Avatar state fighting off twenty Fire benders, as Zuko was struggling to fight off others. With his wild war cries, and a gleam in his eyes; he looked like a madman, of course, I must have too. Fighting for your life changes things drastically.

I remember turning my head, if only for one glance to the battlefield. I had to be wrong. My eyes had to be deceiving me. We only landed near two hours ago, and already we were defeated. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to win, as all heroes do in those famous stories. We were supposed to bring the world back to balance.

This was our destiny.

But perhaps I was wrong. Through all of the hysteria, there was one sight that caught me eye.

Sokka. He struggled against ten men alone, as he was dragging something and screaming. His face wet with tears, as his cries of agony echoed throughout the battle field. It chilled to the bone, the grief in the screams. He dropped to his knees holding the figure, a figure of blue.

“I promised her a happy ending! I promised her that we would be okay! I promised her!” His screams growing louder and louder as the soldiers closed in on the man, trapping him in their grasps, forcing him to leave his sister’s dead body behind.

“No! I have to take her with me! I promised dad I would take care of her! I am not leaving Katara!” He struggled once again, racking against the chains. But it was no use.

How did it come to this?

I also remember also seeing Aang go into such a rage after hearing Sokka’s cries; now he was fighting not only desperately, but with absolute fury. Apparently he was never really able to let go of Katara. I should have foreseen this. Every day I curse myself for not seeing this.

I remember watching Azula pull the same move that she had so long ago in the catacombs beneath Ba Sing Se. She took her opportunity and finished the job. She shot him in the back, like a coward. But this time, there was no one to heal him. Katara was dead, Aang was now dead. From the looks of it, most everyone had perished.

How did it come to this?

I do remember one soul, one person I longed to see. I prayed to Agni that she survived.

I should have expected it with the last scene of events. There crumpled up on the ground, near where Katara had once lain was Toph. A fresh burn stretched across her back as her face was buried in the ground. She was unmoving, and one who has seen as much war as I have, can sense death.

I shed her tears; I shed tears for all of them. But what I feared, what I feared the most was what I knew was going to happen.

My Nephew had vowed to me, the night before, that if he were captured alive, he would rather kill himself than to have the disgrace of being taken prisoner to his own country. It was tradition in the Fire Nation for the bravest of warriors, when there is no hope left, and death is certain, you take your life into your own hands instead of giving it willingly. Die on the battlefield. This death was considered the most honorable kind there is.

I remember trying to shout to Zuko, but yet again, fate never seemed to cease in its cruelty.

I could see the chains heat and turn red, he broke loose. He went straight for Azula, foolish boy.

My foolish boy.

It did not take long for the soldiers to restrain him once again. I remember watching as they first beat him to a pulp, and then Azula walked over to him, knelt before her brother on one knee and smiled lifting up his chin to look at her.

“Poor Zuzu.”

He spat in her face, too weak to call on any real flames, a fierce scowl twisted on his face. Without a thought she backhanded Zuko so hard that it drew blood. He just looked at her through feral, amber eyes as a wolfish grin warped his features.

“Is that all you can do Azula?” He hissed, sneering.

Within two seconds he was awarded his original goal. I watched, oblivious to the soldiers cautiously approaching me with binds in their hands, as Azula, in her madness, step back and freely opened fire on my Nephew.

My spirit broke right there.

I had to remember, I had to continue to remind myself, an honorable death.

I looked once more to the battle field, hoping in some way that this chaos was all a dream. But I was wrong, most of our once hopeful army was either in chains, or bloodied and broken beyond repair, sprawled onto the battlefield. I was lost in the blurry of men and the cold chains on my wrists as I, too, was dragged to my fate. I did not struggle, my body could not respond as quickly as it once had forty years ago.

I should have seen this coming.

How did it come to this?

How in the world did it come to this?

I do not know my fate, but it is bleak. I am only kept company by a young Water tribe warrior, who shares in my grief; though still through each other we find no comfort. But yet in my mind, in this damp Agni forsaken prison, there still is hope. A flicker. But it is enough to ignite a flame, if only the embers somehow, someway could be brought back to life. As I remember hearing myself once say.

“But we cannot stop the inevitable. If she does die, it will have been doing what’s right.”

It is the only thing that keeps me alive now days, the only thing that reminds me to keep pushing, if only for so much longer.

It is said that those who die for the greater good, those who sacrifice themselves for the lives of others, believe me; their deaths do not go unnoticed. Their deaths do not happen without retribution.

They did not die in vain.

They would not die in vain.

They died with a purpose, they died for the world, for the cause, but mostly… they died for each other.

After all, we all were willing to give our lives so that others may live. Perhaps one day it is their sacrifice that will save us.

One day.

Perhaps.

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AN: Alright, now I told this was rather depressing, but it had to be done. Also for those who might ask, this is not the last we see from Aang, Zuko, Toph, and Katara, I promise. They will not and never will be forgotten!!

Also with Zuko's death, I went off of the theory (but not exactly) with the Samurai, like in the movie The Last Samurai. If you don't know what I mean, have not seen the movie, or don't know why it would be honorable then ask and I will explain in the author notes in the first chapter.

Expect updates to be somewhere close to once a week or maybe a little bit longer. School sucks, softball is time consuming, and the holidays are crazy, not to mention that I have some new sets of Drabbles to keep up with too.

I was really nervous about posting this story, I had written this prologue a heck, and I mean a heck of a long time ago, and I have been debating whether to post it or not for about 3 weeks. I had to muster up a lot of courage because to say the least this out of all of my stories/drabbles this is probably the one that I actually write from my heart. I promise this does go somewhere, the chapters will be shorter, and a little slow to start out with, but it does have such a big plot and idea. So forgive me if I didn't catch your interest right away.

One last thing, please review. This is my first time writing in first person for a Fic. So if you don't think it was any good, then use Constructive critism. It is an amazing thing, and it really does help the author. Even if you don't have anything to say, just let me know what you think, or any suggestions, it inspires me to write more. I have such big hopes for this story!

Thanks!

LayDownMyPride