The desk hadn't been overflowing with work when he'd started, but Ozai can feel the headache forming behind his eyes all the same. To be fair to himself, he's been at this for hours, first skimming and resorting the various papers from his father's system to his own, and then actually working to answer, sign, approve, or reject each collection of missives or forms as needed.
...It's nice having fully unimpaired eyesight again. His left eye hadn't suffered as great a loss of vision as most seemed to assume from the surrounding scar, but there had been some damage along those lines, and reading had always been an activity that made the degradation starkly apparent. Either way, however, it seems he's doomed to chronic tension headaches for as long as he remains Fire Lord.
He signs off on one last form -- the official retiring of the oldest serving cruiser-style ships, specifically the Wani's class, funnily enough -- and sets down his brush. (He'd felt alien to himself directly after the first thoughtless signature he'd scrawled out had resulted in an abstract 'Ozai' rather than 'Zuko.' He'd laughed hysterically and only had the presence of mind to be grateful that he was alone after the fact. Still, at least learning to forge his father's signature isn't something he needs to worry about.)
He resists the desire to scrub his ink-stained hands over his face. A black-smudged face isn't the greatest look for a Fire Lord. Instead, Ozai wipes his hands free of any remaining wet ink with the cloth Dar Ling had gifted him before rolling up and sealing his last set of finished paperwork for the afternoon. (Or evening, he supposes. It's begun to get late in the day at this point.) Each of the wax seals get stamped by the imperial signet ring and then set aside to cure fully on racks that the servants will collect early tomorrow morning.
Ozai considers the dancing lights and shadows playing across the ceiling above his office's east window. On occasion, the flashes of light are tinted blue. Azula has yet to master the blue flame that she will become renowned for, but she's close. Her bending flares stronger and hotter in sporadic bursts without an apparent reason behind the fluctuations, but those same unpredictable spikes in power have been increasing in frequency. Ever so slowly, the princess progresses toward the goal of a sustained and consistent blue fire.
Ozai moves to the window to watch the small figure below throw flames of bright yellow and blue across the courtyard. All of eleven years old, and the child prodigy is well on her way to achieving a level of firebending mastery that few ever do. He's never really thought about how hard Azula was pushed to achieve her prowess in the art.
Zuko trains for two hours every day under the midday sun. Azula trains for three hours daily as Agni prepares to depart beyond the horizon. Both training regimes are aggressive, but there is no debate as to which is the more demanding of the two.
His sister may have been born lucky, but she had also earned the skill into which she had crafted her natural talent. Now the question is if he can coax his daughter into using all the skill and talent she is honing for something that isn't tormenting her brother and the servants.
Agni had called Azula 'dragon-hearted.' The Sun Spirit had listed her traits as fierce, loyal, and ruthless. Ozai can think of another dragon-like trait that applies to his new daughter. Namely, Azula is possessive. It's a step to the left of being protective, but maybe she could be nudged in that direction with some encouragement. It's worth trying, at any rate. Regardless of any long-term plans, however, he needs to speak with her after the task he'd given her at this morning's breakfast. The last thing he needs is for Azula to twist his words into a mission to hunt down any hypothetical intruders.
Decision made, Ozai once more makes his way to the training courtyard.
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Li and Lo hadn't allowed her to make any changes to her training. She isn't terribly surprised that the old crones are unwilling to budge on their schedule. It's been carefully crafted and tailored to her already, after all.
Azula doesn't doubt that she could push beyond the limits of her current regime, but she's been confronted with the fact that she would then need to sustain that higher level indefinitely and she is less certain about her body's ability to endure the demands without injury. How irritating. And then there is the time it would take away from her other lessons to consider as well. It wouldn't do for a princess of the Fire Nation to have a lacking education. Utterly unacceptable.
Instead of fighting against Li's and Lo's wisdom, however aggravating, Azula throws herself into the day's planned katas with a vengeance.
Most of the katas in question are heavily focussed on kicks to help draw out the blue fire she is on the verge of harnessing. The chi lines in the legs are thicker and stronger than the lines in the arms. They also provide a more direct path for the sea of chi in the belly to exit the body in flames than the pathways up the torso and then down the arms do. In short, a firebender can generally produce larger, hotter plumes of fire from their feet than their hands. Li's and Lo's theory is that if Azula can achieve regular results with her kicks, then the breakthrough for the rest of her bending should fall into place shortly after. It's as good a theory as any other that is available to them. The last known blue flame user died five generations before Azula's birth and the surviving records regarding the blue flame do not offer recommended methods or techniques for achieving the ability.
No matter. Azula has never shrunk from a challenge and she will not begin now.
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Ozai nods to Li and Lo as he enters the courtyard, joining them in observing the girl's movements through her assigned kata. He's never learned how to tell the twins apart. He's not entirely sure if his sister ever did, either, for that matter.
"Fire Lord Ozai," creaks one of the elderly women.
The other woman adds, "You honor us."
Ozai nods in greeting. "How is she doing?"
"Princess Azula's dedication is a credit to your line, Fire Lord," the first twin remarks.
The second twin continues the thought, "Her flames grow hotter by the day. We have hopes that she will have mastered the blue flame by the end of the month."
"I see," Ozai murmurs, watching his daughter jump high and come down with her heel wreathed in cobalt fire, "I would like to evaluate the princess' progress personally."
"As you wish, Fire Lord," both twins say together.
Azula works her way through another series of punches and kicks before she finishes her current kata and turns smoothly to regard him. "Father," she says with a disciplined bow, as if she is not sweating and fatigued from the intensive exercise she has been engaged in.
"Azula," he responds. He shrugs off his outer robes and drapes them over the arm of the bench Li and Lo are occupying.
Azula watches every motion with sharp eyes. She tenses ever so slightly as he approaches. He likely wouldn't have even noticed if she wasn't lacking her own outer robes, but, as it is, he sees the slight movement in her shoulders and the rebalancing of her weight.
"I was hoping you might feel up to a spar," Ozai says, tone kept carefully light. Azula does not relax.
"Of course, Father," the girl answers. There is the slightest of hesitations before she adds, "I had thought your new flames would take longer to bring under control."
Ozai blinks and then suppresses a grimace. The comment is precisely crafted to be neither an insult nor a questioning of the Fire Lord's judgement, but Azula had seen first hand how uncontrolled his bending currently is. How dangerous it is. No wonder she has misgivings about the exercise.
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"I do not have full control yet," he admits as he takes his place on the other end of the sparring arena, "I will be blocking and deflecting."
"I see," Azula says. She considers him for perhaps half a second more before sinking into a ready stance with a slow smirk, "I suppose I have outgrown my other sparring partners."
It is ridiculously relieving to see the reemergence of the boastful viper he remembers from his childhood rather than the cautious court mask. He never thought he'd miss Azula's arrogant, vicious side, but anything is better than witnessing her fear and knowing he is the cause.
"It won't be a regular thing. There are too many demands on my time to allow for it," Ozai says, mirroring Azula's opening stance, "Attack!"
Unlike Zuko, Azula does not hesitate. She throws herself wholeheartedly into a fierce assault with a rush of flame every bit as ferocious and determined as its bender. The fire flares bright white as he deflects it. Azula's bending is stronger and hotter than the best of Prince Zuko's flames had been, and the temperatures only soar higher as Ozai is forced to add his own chi to the flames to rip them away from the eleven-year-old prodigy and send them away in a safe direction.
Azula does not relent. Her attacks come quickly as she combines them fluidly, always in motion and changing the angle of her assault constantly. Even if he were to go back on his word and attempt to launch an offensive himself, Azula leaves few openings in her one-bender siege and what few exist would be difficult to take advantage of for anyone with less training than an Imperial Firebender.
He can't fault the results of Li's and Lo's lessons.
"Enough!"
Azula instantly dismisses the flames she'd been preparing to throw and bows. "Thank you for the spar, Father," his daughter says. Her breathing is deep but steady under her iron will.
Ozai glances at Li and Lo. "The princess is progressing well under your tutelage. I apologize for interrupting your regime for her. However, there are matters I must discuss with my daughter privately and I believe it would be appropriate for her to be excused from the rest of tonight's session."
The two old women rise to their feet, if slowly.
"We are pleased to hear our efforts have met your approval, Fire Lord," says one.
"And awed to witness with our own eyes the return of Agni's greatest blessing to the line of Kuzon," the other says.
Both bow shallowly, as is appropriate for the elderly who are no longer as sure on their feet as they had been in their youth. "Herald," they intone in parting, before rising from their bows and shuffling out the door.
Ozai waits for the women to depart and the door to close before taking the three strides necessary to close the distance between himself and his daughter. He then tugs lightly on one of the locks framing her face and says, "You did well, Little Dragon."
Azula blinks up at him, cocks her head slightly, and ultimately seems to decide to simply be pleased by the praise. Her smile is small but lacking the edge so many of her usual smirks and grins retain. "I'll do even better soon," she claims, "I'm very close to mastering the blue flame."
"You are," Ozai agrees, "but that isn't what I need to speak to you about." He nods toward the supplies closet and instructs, "Go fetch your cooldown supplies and a tall candle."
"Yes, Father."
Ozai shakes the sand from his shoes and settles himself on the stone floor beside the sparring field. Azula returns, seating herself across from him and placing the candle down between them. She pinches the end of the wick to light it before doing the same to the slip of paper still in her hands.
Ozai raises a brow at the chosen activity for the princess' breathing exercise. It's very... basic.
"I hadn't expected you to prefer to end your training with the Smolder Ring," he observes.
Azula glances at him before returning her eyes to the tiny embers slowly eating away at the paper. "Preference has little to do with my training, Father," the girl says.
"Then why choose it?" Ozai asks.
"It was the next in the cycle."
"Cycle?"
Azula glances at him again. "Instructors Li and Lo have made it clear that each breathing exercise they have assigned for the end of my firebending lessons focus on training different facets of the art. Furthermore, my instructors insist that all of my assigned breathing exercises be cycled through evenly to ensure that each is practiced regularly.
"Smolder Ring teaches restraint and fine control over the smallest embers. Breaths should be slow and shallow.
"Vacillating Tongue," she nods to indicate Ozai's single candle, "focusses instead on the controlled rise and fall of power. Breaths should be full with even inhales and exhales."
Ozai hums an acknowledgement and says, "You've learned well under Li and Lo." There is a small part of him that is still jealous of the training his sister had been given when they were children. None of his childhood instructors at the palace had explained the purpose of any of the exercises he was expected to do so clearly as Azula's have to her.
"Thank you, Father. They are adequate instructors."
The next three degrees are spent in silence as both royals focus on their different breathing exercises.
Ozai pinches out the flame of his candle, drawing Azula's attention. "About the task I assigned you this morning at breakfast," he says slowly, "it would be prudent to clarify a few things."
Azula's next exhale smothers the circle of cinders and she sets the paper aside to give Ozai her undivided attention. "You mean my mission to protect our home from traitors?" the girl asks. "I'm ready, Father. I won't disappoint you."
"I know you won't," Ozai says, "But to be clear, your job is to protect yourself and your brother. Nothing more. Do not endanger yourself needlessly. Iroh and I can protect ourselves. The palace can be rebuilt. Any traitors can be tracked down after the fact. If there are guards nearby, allow them to do their jobs to protect you. My first concern in the event of a coup or any other attack is your and Zuko's safety. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father," Azula says. She doesn't pout, but he can tell that she wants to do as much.
"And, Azula?" he says, "Don't create situations to get around my instructions. I don't want you anywhere near the fighting if it can be prevented."
"But --" Azula bites off her words and instead offers a stiff, "Yes, Sir."
Ozai sighs. "I know you're capable. The whole nation knows." She's more capable than any eleven-year-old has any business being. "You have nothing to prove, Little Dragon."
"I'd still enjoy the opportunity to do so, Father," Azula says, "I'm not sure what else my training has been for if not to dispose of traitors."
The Fire Lord bites back an exasperated sigh. He can't claim Azula lacks the skill needed to be effective in combat, and telling her that she is too young will only spur the girl to attempt to prove otherwise. "Sometimes, things happen on the battlefield that have nothing to do with anything other than luck," he says, "Lu Ten was a master, and a skilled soldier in his own right, but he still died when Iroh allowed him to join the men at the frontlines."
"And then Uncle broke the siege because he got sad," Azula sneers.
"Azula!" he snaps before he can stop himself.
The girl stares up at him with wide eyes for the split second before the porcelain mask is slipped on, hiding his daughter behind a polite, contrite facade. "Forgive me, Father."
"No, I shouldn't have snapped at you," Ozai says, frustrated with himself.
Azula says nothing. The mask remains firmly in place.
Ozai runs a hand over his face. Does Azula even know why and what she should be apologizing for? Or is she only apologizing because he became angry with her? Considering that Father had often voiced open contempt for Iroh after taking the throne, and also what Agni had mentioned of Azula's nature, Ozai has his answer.
He releases a slow breath. One problem at a time. Focus on just the step in front of you. The rest can come after that.
"Azula," he says calmer, softer, gentler, "Iroh broke when he lost his son. Parents are not supposed to outlive their children. Beyond that, morale among the troops was already running low. It had been a long deployment, and breaching the outer wall quickly turned the engagement into a treacherous and bloody bottleneck. Progress was costly in every way imaginable. News of Prince Lu Ten's death broke more than just Iroh's will to continue. Whatever mistakes your uncle may have made during the Ba Sing Se campaign, ordering the withdrawal after Lu Ten's death was not one of them.
"The nation mourned Azulon's passing as we would any Fire Lord, but during that time it was Lu Ten that the nation wept for. The children of the royal family, its youngest generation, represent the future of the Fire Nation.
"As such, what the nation and I need most from you is to remain safe and well. Sometimes, that might mean holding your ground and fighting until help can arrive, but more often it will mean avoiding battlefields altogether, regardless of where they erupt. Can I trust you to remain safe to the best of your abilities, Azula? And to help keep your brother safe as well?"
"Yes, Father."
He sighs. What more can he expect after frightening her again? "Good. Thank you," he says.
Azula blinks at him but doesn't respond otherwise.
The Fire Lord stands and offers his daughter a hand, assisting the child to her feet. "It's gotten late," he observes, "I won't keep you longer than I already have. Sleep well, Daughter. You are dismissed."
Azula bows and says, "Goodnight, Father." The girl doesn't stop to collect anything before leaving the courtyard.
Ozai watches her go and quietly hopes that fatherhood will be the one thing in his life that he manages to learn quickly.
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Zu-Ozai affectionately tugging a lock of Azula's hair as depicted by artist malistaticy. [https://64.media.tumblr.com/3fa7a77cbcc13b0f298e8a70b04d4ba9/39a6bd08842118e4-83/s1280x1920/26a8dbbb38c3aa9e0e15766b7f26decaa089f2d3.pnj]
"You Did Well, Little Dragon" by malistaticy
View the original full-sized post on AO3 or the contest entry on Tumblr
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