The children are both already there by the time Ozai settles into his place at the head of the table. From the look on Azula's face, she's been taunting her brother again, though Ozai had not overheard anything on his way into the room. Prince Zuko, for his part, looks anxious, almost nauseous. The boy also looks incredibly young, devoted, desperate, and naive. How had his father looked at this child and burned off half of his face?
The prince's fidgeting brings his attention to the fact that he's staring.
Ozai turns his gaze away from Zuko and breaks the suffocating silence hanging in the air. "Eat," he instructs the children. The Fire Lord frowns down at his own plate. There is a certain painful irony in realizing the fact that he has a better appetite cloistered in a room full of generals discussing the logistics of war -- even if the goal is disengagement -- than he has dining with his family. He forces himself to eat anyway. Just because he has no desire for the food doesn't mean he won't be able to keep it down, and a Fire Lord running on empty is one that gets less work done.
The suffocating silence is back, only filled by quiet chewing and the use of chopsticks. He realizes belatedly that both children are waiting on him, watching him for cues on how to act. He's not sure what to do with that, so he decides to ask a question.
"What rumors have you heard over the past day?" he asks. At the very least, Azula will have plenty to say. His sister had always loved knowing more than she should.
The girl doesn't disappoint. "Oh, the servants have been whispering about all sorts of crazy imaginings, Father," Azula reports with a familiar smirk on a too-young face, "I've heard them speculating about you and spirits, mostly. They've spoken of everything from possession to madness to a curse." The girl scoffs. "They obviously haven't seen your new flames, yet. Clearly you have found Agni's favor and been blessed, not cursed."
"New flames?" Prince Zuko asks, finally bringing his gaze up from his plate to look at his sister. A moment later, the boy's questioning gaze swings instead to Ozai.
"You hadn't told your brother, yet?" he asks, scrutinizing his new daughter's face.
"I thought you might wish to share the news yourself, Father," Azula says sweetly, "But I apologize. I seem to have spoiled the surprise, anyway."
Ozai smothers the desire to display his exasperation. He'd eat his shoes if Azula hadn't been hoping that withholding the information would somehow trip up her brother. He makes sure to keep his voice calm and measured as he says, "Don't lie to me, Azula."
The girl's eyes widen in shock. "I'm not --"
Ozai raises a hand to halt her protests. "Don't," he says firmly.
The princess lowers her eyes and flushes furiously. Ozai doesn't think he's ever seen Azula's face so red before. Zuko seems just as stunned as his sister.
Ozai decides to move the focus of the room along. Azula is always worse when she feels embarrassed. "What else have you heard?"
"It wasn't a rumor," Zuko says slowly, every line of his frame marked by the same hesitancy that Ozai remembers suffering every time he knew he'd fallen short in his father's eyes, "but Uncle explained about court etiquette during councils. I'm sorry for speaking out of turn, Father. I understand now why it was disrespectful."
Ozai remembers having a similar conversation with Uncle a week after the Agni Kai, when he'd had a chance to recover from the worst of the fever. He also remembers the first few weeks of court as Fire Lord, when assumptions built on that same conversation had caused him to stumble. Uncle's explanation had left out some very relevant details in an effort to shield his recently-banished thirteen-year-old nephew. It wouldn't have mattered if the Avatar had stayed lost and he'd never returned to court. And yet, this Iroh has no reason to believe that Prince Zuko will never again step foot inside a Fire Lord's council. Perhaps Iroh has explained more to the prince than Uncle had to him, but somehow he doubts it was as thorough an explanation as it should have been for the child that will have to live with the consequences.
"We'll discuss that further after breakfast," he says. Ozai notices the prince's golden eyes fill with dread but he doesn't know of anything he can say that will reassure the boy. "For now, we should talk about what happened yesterday."
"Of course, Father," Azula says, her composure once more flawless.
Zuko nods, hands fisted in his lap.
Right. How is he supposed to explain this?
"I met Agni," he ends up blurting, for lack of a better way to begin, and immediately feels like an idiot as two sets of widened eyes stare up at him. Agni help him. He has no idea how to handle children. These days, his expertise runs along the lines of military leaders, law enforcement, interior ministers, nobles, ambassadors, and foreign heads of state, almost all of them multiple decades older than himself.
"He gave me his blessing and instructed me to end the war," Ozai plows on. What else can he do at this point? "Last night, I gave the order to cease aggressions on the frontlines, and there will be more meetings in the next few days as the generals and I hammer out the best way to start bringing our soldiers home. At some point, we'll have to open negotiations with the other nations to establish a more lasting peace." He hesitates for a moment before deciding there isn't a good way to say this next part. "Making such an abrupt change in the direction of the country will leave many of our people... dissatisfied. Some may become motivated to do drastic things."
"Treasonous things, Father?" Azula asks, sharp-eyed and calculating.
"Perhaps. It's likely. And there will probably be more than one group or individual driven to cause trouble because of the changes ahead of us." Ozai meets both sets of young eyes before saying, "There's a chance some of that trouble could find us inside the palace walls. If someone threatens you, do whatever it takes to protect yourselves. If both of you happen to be together at the time... Zuko, I want you to run for help. You're faster than your sister." At least, the boy will be until said sister figures out how to propel herself with firebending. "Azula, cover for your brother. Your bending is more advanced than your brother's is. And don't hold anything back. In that situation, you'll be defending your family and your nation."
"Yes, Father," Azula preens.
Ozai almost wishes he could be as pleased about worst-case-scenario planning as the girl is. Still, so long as both children survive, he'll find a way to deal with whatever fallout develops from effectively ordering an eleven-year-old to kill. (The older he gets, the more he tries not to think about just how young all of them were when destiny dropped the duty to end the Hundred-Year War onto their shoulders.)
"I can fight!" Zuko objects, "I'm older! Azula should be the one to run!"
Ozai grimaces. "No." He can't say he's surprised by the outburst.
"But I --"
"Enough," Ozai speaks over the boy, doing his best to not to snap as he says the word. While he isn't particularly angry, while he knows exactly the sort of desperation that is driving the boy, certain habitual responses have become ingrained when confronted with open insolence in his own palace. He knows it isn't how Zuko intends to present himself. He also knows that fact makes the behavior no less dangerous for either of them, particularly with the current political climate and what it will surely evolve into as Ozai pursues peace. "You have been given your role. If circumstances unfold in a manner that prevents you from fulfilling it, then that is the way of things, but do not subvert my orders to chase after your own glories. I am Fire Lord. You will yield to my commands."
"I didn't mean to suggest -- I-I'm sorry!" The prince swallows dryly and offers a quiet, "I'll run for help."
Ozai bites back the frustrated sigh that nearly escapes him. He returns his attention to his half-eaten breakfast, unsure how to offer comforting words or even break the tension in the air. His mother would have known what to do, but he remembers less of her with every year that passes. He doesn't know what the right thing to do is. Just figuring out who he is has become more complicated than he could have ever imagined. He does, however, know these three things:
He is Ozai.
He is Fire Lord.
He will not be his father.
Those three facts are enough of a foundation for him to rebuild himself.
The rest of the meal is eaten in silence, with Azula visibly smug and Zuko withdrawn, but although Ozai finishes eating first, he does not rise from the table until he is certain the prince is done with the meal.
"Thank you for having breakfast with me, Azula," he says.
"Of course, Father," she responds smoothly as Zuko hunches into his shoulders, "Shall I tell my instructors to increase the intensity of my firebending lessons? To better prepare myself for any future battles against traitors?"
"The goal is to ensure your own and your brother's protection," he reminds her, "not to humiliate your opponents with flashy moves."
"More defensive katas, then," Azula says decisively.
Ozai huffs a wry laugh. "Even prodigies can only master so much of their craft at once," he tells her, reluctantly amused at this diminutive Azula's obvious maneuvering. And then, because a part of him has always wanted to do so, despite never quite daring an attempt, Ozai reaches across the table and gently tugs on the nearest of the loose locks of hair framing Azula's face. His daughter's surprised blink followed by her utterly baffled expression makes indulging in the impulse entirely worthwhile. "Have a good day, Azula," he says, struggling to suppress the amused grin threatening to break across his face.
Ozai turns to the sullen boy glaring a hole through the table. "Zuko." The prince jolts back from wherever his thoughts had taken him. "Walk with me," he says, holding a hand out to the child.
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Zuko's eyes slide from his face down to his hand and back again. His bafflement looks remarkably similar to his sister's expression. Tentatively, as if not sure it's really happening, Zuko grips Ozai's hand and allows the man to help pull him to his feet.
Ozai sets an easy pace through the halls. A part of him wants to lead his new son to the garden courtyard with the turtle-duck pond that Ursa had favored, but instead he begins to retrace a path back to the training courtyard he'd met Agni and Iroh in earlier.
It is only when Zuko carefully shifts to press more firmly against the hand on his back and walk just a little closer that Ozai realizes he has reached out without thought to physically guide the boy through the palace corridors. Ozai brushes his thumb over the teen's spine and the reaction is almost immediate. Zuko stands taller and his stride gains confidence. From the outside, it probably doesn't look much different from how Azula had reacted last night when placed in a similar situation, but the prince's frame never manifests the tension that had marked the princess' reaction. The difference is... worrying, for all that he doesn't know its source.
The Fire Lord and his son have the courtyard to themselves when they arrive. Iroh has long since departed and Azula's firebending lessons are always scheduled from evening to dusk, when the shadow of the palace and the setting of the sun will push her just that much harder during her exercises.
"You said Iroh spoke to you about some of the peculiarities of court etiquette during council," Ozai begins, settling on a bench near the entrance and gesturing for the prince to take his place beside him. There isn't much to look at in this particular courtyard, though Ozai notes that the servants have not yet been in to rake smooth the sand of the sparring field and it remains uneven from this morning's workout.
Zuko perches on the edge of the bench, twisted to face Ozai rather than the empty courtyard and with both hands fisted in his lap. "Uncle explained that during a council meeting the floor isn't open for anyone to speak except for when the Fire Lord calls on them. I broke the rules of your court, so it was you that I disrespected."
Ozai fights back a scowl. That is precisely what he'd been told. Does Iroh really think that half-truth is sufficient for a child that will continue to live in the palace? He isn't worried about Bujing trying anything. As cruel, wasteful, and petty as the general can be, he isn't a fool. And for a man so callous with the lives of new recruits, he is surprisingly lenient when it comes to children. No, he's not worried about Bujing, but there are others who wouldn't hesitate to attack the prince if given an excuse, regardless of his age and status. Some -- particularly ambitious nobles -- might target him specifically because of those things.
"You managed three counts of disrespect when you spoke out," Ozai corrects, "Not one." The boy shifts in discomfort but holds his tongue. "You spoke out of turn in a Fire Lord's court. You questioned a general's honor. Finally, you insulted a guest of the Fire Lord, and thus you insulted the Fire Lord." There is a reason the nobles and generals have grown skilled at making backhanded comments. "Only one count was ever Bujing's to claim, and he chose not to pursue the matter." Ozai traces the tale of footfalls and tumbles in the sand. "That covers your misconduct in the throne room. Did Iroh speak to you at all about the Agni Kai itself?"
Zuko sounds uncertain as he says, "I know how Agni Kais work, Father. Opponents fight under the light of Agni so he may lend his strength if he favors one combatant over the other. The fight continues until either first burn, when one combatant is forced out of bounds for the chosen arena, or voluntary surrender. What more would Uncle have needed to tell me?"
Ozai pinches the bridge of his nose. He isn't sure how much he wants to tell a thirteen-year-old about the cruel circumstances surrounding the Agni Kai that would have left him literally scarred for the rest of his life. Still, Iroh had chosen to say nothing? Maybe things hadn't progressed to the part where Zuko had disobeyed his father's command to fight, twice, but even then there are some things the prince should know.
He drops his hand and looks directly at the young teenager. He immediately decides to skip over the customs and traditions involving guests in court. Firstly, he has no idea if Iroh had been denied the right to fight in his nephew's stead or if Iroh had simply assumed that the prince was in no real danger. Secondly, there will be time to go further into the intricacies of court politics when Zuko is older and less focussed on the shame of this latest misstep.
"An Agni Kai is nothing to be taken lightly, Zuko," he says, making sure to keep eye contact with his son, "'First burn' can easily be death and sometimes it is. Fleeing the boundary, rather than being forced from it, leaves the loser branded as an honorless coward. 'Voluntary surrender' must be freely accepted by the other combatant and most would not deign to do so. By the time a conflict has reached Agni Kai, the involved parties are typically looking to repay the insult in bloodshed. It's too late for apologies at that stage. That is the nature of the challenge."
Zuko is looking green.
"If for any reason you participate in another Agni Kai before you become Fire Lord, be sure of your reason and do not offer surrender more than once. After you enter the arena, you are committed to the fight, regardless of who your opponent may be. Do you understand? An Agni Kai is not a spar. It is not only your honor but your life at stake. You must be ready to fight upon entering that arena."
"B-but you didn't -- You wouldn't have --"
Ozai looks away from the shaken prince, unable to watch as the boy's understanding of the world threatens to shake itself apart. It isn't fair. Not to the boy and not to himself. But this is a necessary lesson.
"It is due to Agni's grace that you left the arena unharmed." He takes a steadying breath and confesses, "My world was turned on its head yesterday. The person I was then could not have fathomed becoming the man I am today." The statement is true several times over, whether he considers 'yesterday' to be the day six years in his past or the day he lived through before this one. "I accepted your surrender. The man you stepped into the arena with would not have. It is Agni's influence that saved you, not your refusal to fight. I need to know that you understand, Zuko. Hesitation and reluctance have no place in an Agni Kai. It does not matter who your opponent is once you are in the arena, you have to be prepared to fight."
"I, I understand, Father," Zuko says.
Ozai scrutinizes the child's face. "No," he concludes, "you don't. But you will grow to understand. In time. Do not accept another challenge until you do."
The prince stares down at his lap and mumbles an obedient, "Yes, Father."
"Good."
Ozai considers the sandy training arena again. He's going to push things further, he decides. It had been a vague idea when he'd chosen to come back to this courtyard, a possibility, but he's certain of his course now. The prince needs to learn the difference between hesitation and restraint, and he needs to learn sooner rather than later. Even if the lesson takes a few repetitions to sink in, they can begin here today.
"Get up. We're starting practice now." His bending is too unstable to risk returning fire, but he should be fine to block and deflect. Ozai rises to his feet and shrugs off his outer robes, leaving them draped over the bench as he strides over to the sparring field.
Zuko clambers to his feet in a startled awkwardness and hesitates by the bench rather than following him. "But you said not to --"
Ozai takes his place at the far side of the field. "This is a spar, not an Agni Kai. Its purpose is to learn and improve. It is not a fight of life and honor. Join me."
"Yes, Father." The boy's fear is clear from his eyes to the slow removal and careful folding of his outer layers to his reluctant manner in crossing the space and settling into an opening stance.
"Attack."
Zuko stares at him with wide eyes. "I, I can't!"
"You can."
The prince remains frozen.
Ozai releases a long, slow breath and forces himself to remember who he'd been at thirteen. "It isn't disrespectful and you're not going to hurt me," he says, careful to keep a level and gentle tone, "Start slow. You are Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. You can do this."
That does the trick. Ozai can see as his son finds his resolve.
Zuko does start slow and his conflicted motivations make his flames weak, but Ozai takes the opportunity it provides him to observe. His son's forms are mostly correct, but he can see the flaws in the foundations that Uncle had drilled out of him during the three years of his banishment. A too-wide stance here, an incorrect angle there, sloppy breath control in general. It's a better starting point than he'd had with a certain scatterbrained airbender, but the prince definitely won't appreciate it when Ozai has him busted back down to drill the basics. He'll have to speak with Iroh later. As Fire Lord, he doesn't have enough free time to devote to personally taking on his son's daily firebending training.
The teen stumbles and flushes in embarrassment.
Ozai tips his head in acknowledgement but commands, "Continue."
Zuko nods and pushes past the mistake, flames growing stronger as he grows gradually more confident in the exercise and his role in it.
Ozai briefly turns his observations to his own bending. The fire flares and shifts into brighter hues in the split-second that Ozai uses to redirect the flames, but they dissipate as he releases them and never reach the tell-tale white of his new bending. He doesn't think the prince even realizes what the difference Azula had hinted at is, not just yet anyway.
The spar continues for some time and Zuko slowly works his way through more and more advanced forms. Eventually, Ozai decides he's pushed the boy as far as he should for one day.
"Enough!" Ozai yells over the roar of the flames.
Zuko's next strike is promptly aborted halfway through the movement, the fire fizzling away just in front of his fist. The prince bows, exertion clear as what little breath-control he had retained to that point quickly falls apart with the conclusion of the spar.
"Thank you for taking the time to train with me, Father," the child pants.
Ozai crosses the field as the prince straightens and offers his son a smile. He places a hand on the boy's shoulder and says, "You did well."
The boy flushes with pride before doubt creeps over his face. "But my flames were weak, and I stumbled on form three, and --"
"Zuko," Ozai interrupts and the child obediently falls silent. "You are thirteen and you are learning," the Fire Lord says, "You are going to make mistakes. That isn't the question. The question is will you push yourself back to your feet after every fall?"
Zuko blinks up at him in surprise, but it isn't long before the boy squares his stance and declares, "Yes. I will."
"Good." Ozai squeezes his son's shoulder before letting go. "I'll speak to Iroh about your training going forward," he informs his son as he strides over to the same closet of supplies that Agni had raided earlier in the morning.
Ending a training session with a breath-control exercise is a long tradition in the Fire Nation, especially among firebenders. Oil lamps, jars of oil, metal frames, metal posts with hooks, ceramic targets, paper targets, rectangular slips of paper, a variety of candles, and several candle holders all crowd the closet, even as neatly arranged as they are. Ozai feels his eyebrows climb his forehead when he realizes that several of the candles must have partially melted at some point and are bent over the paper slips. A quiet snort escapes his composure when he gets hit with a small epiphany and a sudden, wild desire to ask the Sun Spirit's opinion on wax as a general substance. He'll have to instruct the servants to rearrange the closet with the candles tucked away on the lowest shelf and kept separate from everything else, or possibly have them placed in a different closet altogether. For now, he selects two of the shorter, slender candles that remain straight and a pair of matching holders before closing the closet.
Ozai sits cross-legged on the stone floor outside the sparring field and begins to set up the candles. "Join me."
Zuko promptly settles himself across from the Fire Lord. Ozai holds an upturned hand between them, but his eyes are on the prince as he calls forth his bending. Fire leaps high in his hand, startling the boy, before Ozai tames it into a more appropriate and easily maintained fistful of flame hovering over his palm. His son's eyes fill with wonder and an excited smile spreads across the boy's face.
"It's white!" Zuko exclaims, "Are those Agni's Flames? Like the legends?"
Ozai smirks. "They are. Unfortunately, Agni's gift has left my control shattered, and it will take time for me to relearn what I have lost." The Fire Lord carefully lights the candle wicks and then releases the handful of fire so that it dissipates harmlessly in the air. The little flames left behind burn in cheery, well-mannered yellows atop their candles. "You could probably beat me in this exercise right now. If you concentrate."
Zuko looks between him and the candles, once more hesitant and uncertain.
"It isn't disrespectful," Ozai encourages, voice gentle, "It's practice. For both of us."
Zuko contemplates the words and candles alike for another long moment but then nods with new found determination. "I am honored to be considered a worthy opponent, Father," the boy says, "I accept your challenge."
Ozai grins at his son. "You're still going to have to work for your victory."
Zuko offers a smile of his own in return that is only slightly tentative. "Yes, Father. I plan to."
Ozai chuckles and then both royals fall into matching breath patterns as they begin, one candle burning yellow and orange while the other blazes brightly before being tempered into a more controlled tongue of white.