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Sacred	By : Metranome Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Slash - Male/Male > Aang/Zuko Views: 6607 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender does not belong to me. It sure is cool, though, ain’t it?

Notes: Don’t flame me. It won’t do you any good, and I won’t change anything just so as not to offend your delicate sensibilities. Anyone who thinks bullying will get them what they want is dead wrong. Constructive criticism (i.e., anything to do with details I may have forgotten about the show, or grammar/spelling/usage errors) is fine, even welcome. If it’s just that you don’t like what I’ve written, however, keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear it and you won’t get anything out of it.

Warnings: I think I covered warnings in the summary, but just in case: no kiddies are allowed to read this fic. If you’re under eighteen, get lost! I don’t want to frighten anyone or have the “PTA Brigade” after me for scarring their little angels (though, honestly, if you’re such an angel, what are you even doing here?). That said, enjoy the story!

In the lands of the Fire Nation, honor was sacred. It was not only a principle by which the people lived, but also what defined them. It was their highest goal and their greatest achievement. For honor, they would fight, and for honor, they would willingly die. And when one of these proud people was stripped of his or her honor, they felt as though they had indeed died inside.

In this sense, Prince Zuko was already dead.

The Fire Nation prince was dreaming. He stood on a battlefield amidst the bodies of fallen warriors. Every face he knew; they were all men he had trained with, fought with, and commanded at one time or another. He knew their names, and he remembered their voices. They had all died with honor, protecting the country they loved with all their hearts. Because of this, he felt only a moment’s grief for their passing; they would be rewarded for their courage in the afterlife, hailed as the heroes they were.

The dream shifted. The red sky and burning fields around him cooled, and the bodies vanished. Now it was dark and cold, and he felt himself shiver. He was alone, without even the ghosts to give him solace. There was no honor left to him, only exile and sorrow. In the far-off distance he could see the warm glow of his homeland, but even as he stretched out his hand toward it, it faded and drew further away. He knew deep down that even if he ran swifter than any being on earth, he would still never reach that place again. The home he had loved was forever lost to him. His heart broke, and he cried out with the agony of it. Tears streamed from his one good eye, and he sank to his knees on the frozen ground.

As he huddled there, arms wrapped tightly around himself in a vain attempt to ward off the chill, a light began to shine at the edge of his vision. It was so bright that at first he cringed away from it, shielding his face with a hand. When at last he could bear to look, he saw a shining figure standing behind him, and he knew the being’s face just as he had known the faces of the warriors.

“Avatar....” he breathed.

He could not bring himself to summon his usual rage at the sight of his enemy; everything was buried beneath the heartache. He stared helplessly up at the youthful countenance of the Avatar, the child who was his only means of redemption. And suddenly, he knew that the child—this child of only twelve summers!—knew. The Avatar knew the pain in his soul, knew the deepest wish in his heart. Those glowing blue eyes looked into the most hidden places inside of Zuko, and made him feel as though his entire life was open for the boy’s reading. The prince wanted to shield himself somehow, wanted desperately to hide from that penetrating gaze, but he could not even blink. Eons looked out at him from those eyes, and he trembled.

Then the Avatar came toward him, seeming to walk on the air itself. Zuko was at once terrified and transfixed, and when a small, shining hand reached toward him, he flinched in preparation for…he did not know, but certainly it would be pain of some kind. It was always pain.

But the pain never came. In its place was merely a brush of fingertips across his cheek, accompanied by an overwhelming calm. He felt serene for the first time in years, and it was, like so much else in the dream, too much. The proud young man loosed a choked sob, but he could not pull away. His eyes flew open wide when the Avatar spoke with a voice like thousands of voices in one, producing a sound like the dearest whisper and the loudest song all at once.

“Fire child,” he said. “Have peace.”

“How can I?” the prince protested. “I’ve lost everything. My honor, my home, everything that matters is gone.”

“Not everything,” the child who was much more replied. “You still have your heart, even if it is wounded. Use it, and you will gain more than you could ever dream of losing, even if you lived to be as old as I.”

“I can’t,” Zuko pleaded, unable even to curse his own weakness. “I don’t know how. All I know is that I must capture the Avatar if I ever want to see my home again. You can see into me so easily. You know what I have to do.”

The light around the boy became even more brilliant, even as he smiled sadly. “Follow you heart, Prince Zuko. It has always guided me, and it will guide you just as well.”

The light was growing too bright again, and Zuko could no longer see the Avatar within it, save for a thin silhouette. “Wait!” he cried. “How can I do what you’ve said? I don’t understand! Avatar!” But everything was going white, and he could not see anything anymore.

Then the dream lost its hold on him, and he woke. There were still tears trailing down his face. Zuko placed a hand over his eyes and willed the confusion away; he had a mission, and he would be damned if he let a dream shake him from his chosen path.

/I must find the Avatar,/ he told himself, just as he had so many times before. /Nothing will stand in my way./

And perhaps, he reasoned, the next time he saw the little monk, they would have a very stern “discussion” about how unsporting it was to invade another person’s dreams.

~*~*~*~*~*~

This popped into my head after seeing the "Avatar" marathon on Thursday. Zuko is really a very deep character, and he's got a big heart under all that gruff. And don't rag me about having the fire prince cry; I've damn well seen him do it!

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