Chapter Text
"Princess Azula invited herself to Prince Zuko's firebending training today," Iroh says, eyeing Ozai to judge his reaction.
That's not overly surprising. Azula never wastes time in pursuing her goals.
"What else?"
"Ozai?" Iroh's tone is frustrated.
"You wouldn't be upset about Azula showing an interest in spending time with Zuko or you unless it caused a problem," Ozai says bluntly. "So, what was the problem?"
Iroh glares at his tea for a moment. Eventually, the older man says with forced blandness, "Her presence was a distraction."
Ozai raises an eyebrow. That is hardly the whole of it. "Combat is rarely undergone without distraction."
"A lesson for later in Prince Zuko's tutelage," Iroh insists.
"Iroh."
The staring match stretches, but eventually Iroh breaks first.
"Your children bicker incessantly!" Iroh bursts, throwing a hand out in the general direction of the training courtyard. "No sooner had I soothed singed feathers than a new argument sparked to life! I could almost have set an Earth Kingdom clock by their yelling, every degree on the degree."
Iroh rubs his forehead as if warding off a headache. The general scowls anew and continues, "Princess Azula insinuated Prince Zuko was a fool on at least four separate occasions. I could barely get a word in over their screaming match. Prince Zuko was understandably unfocussed for the entire two-hour session."
"Ah." Ozai considers the account. "Did Azula seem as frustrated as Zuko?"
Iroh glowers. "These are Prince Zuko's lessons," he says, "Princess Azula's feelings are not --"
"Iroh. Tell me, what was Azula's mood? Was she equally as frustrated and loud as Zuko?"
"Yes, the princess was equally upset!" Iroh relents.
"Then this is a problem that will resolve itself," Ozai concludes.
Iroh gapes at him. "Ozai! They were practically at each other's throats!"
"They're children with strong opinions," Ozai says, reaching out to start dishing up his plate before his lunch period ends.
"How can you dismiss this so casually?" Iroh demands, and then hisses in accusation, "You told me Princess Azula was a fratricide risk!"
"Not over something so petty as this," Ozai denies. "Also, he's her only readily available playmate. Mai's and Ty-Lee's visits have to be scheduled. Azula never does anything without calculating the cost to herself. A yelling match is a short interruption. Anything more serious would leave her bored."
Iroh recoils.
Ozai sighs.
His friends had reacted similarly whenever he was foolish enough to reminisce on his childhood aloud. Yes, much of it had been terrible, and his sister had been his tormentor as often as she had been his playmate. Still, is it so wrong to occasionally miss pieces of his youth and feel a little nostalgic for times long past? At least his childhood hadn't included being hunted by a pack of hungry owl wolves, or capsized by the local sea monster, or lost all alone in a mountain range, or trapped under a mountain range. Toph had a special fondness for the story of her first meeting with the badgermoles near Gaoling.
"If Azula is as frustrated as Zuko, it means she is also as invested in the effort as he is," Ozai explains. "If she was trying to be a hindrance, she'd be smug or overly sweet." An eleven-year-old Azula was nowhere near the master manipulator his sister had grown into being.
"That was a possibility you considered?" Iroh asks, temper simmering.
"A minor one," Ozai says, trying to remain patient, "and, from the sound of it, not one that needs to be considered further. She's trying, Iroh. She wants Zuko to improve. I know you don't see it, but this is a good step for Azula and Zuko."
"You're right. I do not see any of what you claim." Iroh drains his teacup and refills it. "Please, explain what it is that I am missing."
"...They're siblings," Ozai says, already knowing how insufficient the words are. Even Sokka and Katara had only accepted that explanation about Azula roughly half the times he had given it.
Iroh stares, eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "I am aware."
"You're aware, but you don't know," Ozai says, struggling to figure out how to put the tangle of loyalties, resentments, and raw emotions into words that will be understood.
"I do happen to have a brother of my own," Iroh notes wryly.
Ozai scowls. "And how many years separate us?" he asks.
"Very nearly seventeen," Iroh answers with a frown.
Ozai nods. "Meanwhile, Zuko and Azula have less than two years between them. And your only child was Lu Ten. You do not understand siblings, Iroh, and especially not the relationship between Zuko and Azula.
"You didn't grow up with the constant rivalry. You certainly didn't grow up hearing whispers about an unfortunate birth order. You didn't grow up with a begrudging playmate and peer that was simply yours, regardless of desire or anything else.
"Zuko and Azula push away and cling to each other in turn. Loud arguments are them being children learning how to work around and with each other in an environment that would just as soon see them tear each other to pieces.
"I'm doing what I can to correct that, but they're royals. Some of that pressure will always exist for them. But I promise, if Azula is frustrated and kicking up a fuss, it's because she's genuinely trying and irritable that success comes more slowly than she's used to achieving. Kind words and gentle instruction are one skillset that doesn't come to her naturally. She'll need time to learn just as much as Zuko does.
"This is good practice for them, though. And you'll be there to keep it from escalating to shoving and spark throwing."
Iroh groans and runs a hand over his face. "Are my niece and nephew always such a handful when they are together?"
Ozai answers, "They --"
"Don't say anything!" Iroh backtracks in a rush. "I dread hearing what you might have to say on the matter."
Ozai shrugs. Iroh is hardly the first to say such a thing to him.
Iroh sighs and rubs his eyes before glowering at Ozai. "What even brought this on?" he asks.
Ozai offers another shrug. "Zuko's progress or lack thereof came up during breakfast," he says. "Azula took it as a personal slight, and decided she wanted to help. She should have asked your permission as Zuko's firebending master, though I'm not..." There are two strong inner flames heading toward them, one of which burns too hotly to be mistaken for anyone else. "Tell me about the tea."
Iroh blinks at the sudden order. "Ozai?"
"Oolong, Iroh," Ozai insists, rising from his seat.
Iroh begins an uncertain lecture and Ozai gestures for him to keep going. Ozai stalks quietly to the door and waits.
The two flames have stalled a few paces from the entrance.
Ozai creeps closer and puts an ear to the thin wall.
"...we go now? Uncle's just talking about tea!" Zuko says in a hushed hiss.
"Shh!" Azula responds, "If you want to go, then go!"
Ozai smirks and pads with softened footfalls back to the door.
"Welcome to the Fire Lord's Dining Room," he says as he opens the door to his children's shocked faces, "Today's special is oolong. May I show you to a table?"
Unsurprisingly, no one else understands the joke. That's alright. He's still amused.
"Father!" Zuko yelps.
Azula freezes in place.
Ozai's grin is wry as he steps back from the door to leave space for the children to enter. "Iroh was invited to a breakfast. It's only fair the two of you join your uncle and I for a lunch."
"Really?" Zuko asks, face growing hopeful.
"Really," Ozai affirms, tilting his head to beckon them both inside.
Zuko smiles and slips past him into the dining room. "Hello, Uncle."
"Hello, Nephew," Iroh returns, a tad exasperated but no less indulgent than he always is of Zuko.
Azula adopts a painfully straight posture and approaches Ozai as if she were part of a death march. She stills when Ozai catches her shoulder before she can pass him by.
"I'm not angry, Little Dragon," Ozai assures quietly as Zuko and Iroh fall into chatter at the table, "but I do have some questions and notes. Do you understand?"
Azula stays tense under his hand and keeps her gaze locked directly ahead of herself, further into the room, like a miniature soldier at attention. "Yes, Father."
She doesn't, but she's trying, and she'll learn in time.
Ozai nods. "Good," he says and tugs her hair, breaking her stiff posture through pure shock. He smiles when Azula finally turns her head to look at him. "I'm proud of you for wanting to help your brother," he tells her. "We just need to work a little on your technique for doing so."
Azula blinks at him, startled and clearly trying to process the words. Ozai only grins, shifts his hand to her back, and gives her a gentle push forward as he instructs, "Go sit."
"You know, it's quite rude to eavesdrop on your elders' conversations," Iroh notes, raising an eyebrow at his nephew.
Prince Zuko ducks his head with flushed cheeks. "Yes, Uncle," the boy acknowledges the reprimand, but makes no half-hearted promises to behave more appropriately in the future.
"Hah," Iroh sighs, filled with the bitter-sweet and wistful longing for his own childhood misadventures, "the follies of youth and curiosity."
Zuko shifts on his claimed cushion, one that Iroh by all rights should have shifted to the moment the crown prince had been invited to join the table, but the young prince had settled before Iroh could even begin to rise. It is a small matter, in private, but one the new crown prince will have to be trained to better navigate in the future.
"We weren't listening for long," Prince Zuko says. "Azula was worried we annoyed you too much and Father might be angry with us."
"Your father is not angry," Iroh assures. If anything, Ozai is entirely too complacent about the children's behavior. Still, it would not be helpful to undermine Ozai to anyone, least of all his own children and heirs.
Princess Azula glances between Iroh and Zuko as she sits at her brother's side. The girl's lips purse, but no loud critique follows the dissatisfied expression as had been the case only a few degrees earlier.
"Princess Azula," Iroh greets with a nod. A part of him wishes Ozai had never pointed out her nature to him. Now, he cannot unsee all the small ways in which Princess Azula interacts callously with everyone around her.
"Uncle," Azula returns curtly. Is it awkwardness, disregard, or heightened defenses in the face of expected punishment? Iroh is uncertain which is more likely from a niece he is coming to accept he does not know as well as he should.
Ozai reclaims his seat at the head of the table. "Iroh was just telling me that Azula joined Zuko's firebending session this morning. Apparently, there was a lot of yelling," he says, smirk wry and tone dry as the Si Wong Desert.
Prince Zuko hunches down in shame.
Princess Azula keeps a neutral expression and court-precise posture, but there is a tension in her shoulders that gives away her unease.
Ozai sighs and prompts, "The two of you should apologize to your uncle for making his work difficult."
Iroh does not blink, nor squint to study Ozai for any tells of tomfoolery, but it is a near thing. It has not been his experience that royal heirs should have need to apologize for almost anything, let alone something as negligible as causing an instructor some minor hardship during a lesson.
"Sorry, Uncle," Zuko mumbles.
"I apologize for my behavior," Azula offers stiffly.
Iroh tips his head to acknowledge both children. "Thank you. I am sure it will not become a problem again."
Ozai snorts. "I wouldn't count on that."
Iroh stiffens. So do the children. Iroh glares at his brother.
"It's not today's problem," Ozai dismisses, which does not reassure the children, but the Fire Lord offers the matter no further consideration. "Speaking of... Azula, I said you might be able to convince your uncle to let you assist, not that you should invite yourself into the session without seeking Iroh's permission. Such methods are for stubborn members of court, not family. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father," the girl responds, glancing briefly at Iroh.
"Good." Ozai asks, "Now then, was anything positive achieved in today's lesson?"
Zuko fidgets and Ozai rests a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"There was notable improvement on two meditation breathing patterns," Princess Azula reports.
Iroh frowns. "While that is true, it was procedural only. Prince Zuko is still struggling to internalize the underlying concepts and embed the physical memory." He would prefer to discuss this outside of the boy's hearing, but that is not the scenario Ozai has set here.
Princess Azula scowls over Iroh's correction, but she does not refute it.
Ozai hums, releasing his son's shoulder. "Procedural will do for now. It will lead into proper muscle memory for the early katas."
Iroh's frustration returns. "It will lead to stiff, rigid bending," he warns. "You asked me to fix the errors in Prince Zuko's technique. Continuing down this path could establish more poor habits."
"Iroh," Ozai says, "he's thirteen. You can refocus on the underpinning philosophies once he reaches a level where they matter. While you're working through the beginning, allow a procedurally correct performance to be enough. Prince Zuko needs to be able to see the progress for himself, or he'll spend the entire time frustrated."
And then Ozai tosses in a comment Iroh had not anticipated, "I certainly was at his age."
"You were?" Zuko asks, wide-eyed. Behind him, Princess Azula looks similarly surprised and curious.
Iroh is simply baffled. He does not recall hearing anything about his younger brother's struggles in his training. On the other hand, he had seldom paid Ozai much attention at all in those days. How much does he actually know of his brother's past? The answer, to his shame, is clearly not as much as he had assumed.
Ozai hums. "I went through a rough patch in my training. It lasted for years." The Fire Lord sighs and gives his heir a rueful smile. "And now, I'm back at square one, trying to relearn control." Ozai lifts a hand, summoning a bright burst of flame before tamping it down to a practical fistful, and then extinguishing it. "Considering it seems to be a side effect of the blessings that come with the heraldship, you might want to start taking notes on what proves to be helpful in your current lessons, Zuko. There's a good chance you'll be revisiting them when you take the throne."
Prince Zuko makes a complicated face, though the reasons behind it are not difficult to guess. Iroh, too, had once been a crown prince, caught between the excitement and dread of the privileges and responsibilities that came with a future destined for the nation's throne.
Ozai chuckles and pats his son's shoulder. "Take heart. You'll find out when it's your turn that being Fire Lord is mostly about discovering new ways to fail, picking yourself and the nation up, and hoping desperately that the world is still holding to the unspoken agreement of pretending all monarchs are incapable of making mistakes."
That... is certainly an interesting way to look at being Fire Lord.
Prince Zuko moans in despair.
Ozai laughs.
Lunch continues on, with only one, rather devastating, realization to sully the rest of the otherwise pleasant meal.
"You all have no appreciation for tea!" Iroh bemoans the freshly exposed fault in his remaining family members. He turns to address Ozai directly. "Is your barbarian palate hereditary? You are ruining your children!"
Ozai nearly chokes on laughter. He sets his cup down with a poorly controlled clack. "My apologies, Sifu Hotman. I suppose you'll have to arrange more tea lessons."
Iroh stares at his younger brother, unable to suppress his distaste.
"Where did you hear such an old word?" he asks in disbelief of his own ears. "You never even met Grandfather Sozin!" Which was for the best.
Grandfather had gone more than a bit mad in his last years. He had mistaken Father for Avatar Roku on more than one occasion, thankfully always while caught in memories of boyhood days when the two had been close friends rather than bitter opponents. It had led to odd conversations with ancient and bizarre slang positively littering Grandfather's speech.
Ozai snorts. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. But, considering the company I keep, is occasional century-old slang really that surprising?"
Iroh wrinkles his nose. "Please tell me the spirit in question is not Agni." It is already a struggle to properly revere Fire Lords who use words as ridiculous as 'hotman.' Iroh is not sure he will be able to look at his patron spirit in the correct light if he learns the great spirit regularly utilizes such terrible vocabulary.
Ozai's smirk twitches with repressed laughter. "It wasn't Agni," he promises, only to add, "Should I ask him what slang Kuzon the Uniter liked to use?"
Iroh sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Has Ozai always been this much of a brat? "I do not believe that is necessary."
Ozai chuckles. "As you wish," he relents.
Despite himself, Iroh feels a smile steal across his own face.
When lunch concludes, Azula waves Zuko off and hurries after her target.
Many changes are happening quickly, and Azula had underestimated Father's new regard for Uncle. She does not understand it, but she does see it. Father is as fond and warm with Uncle as he has become with herself and Zuko. Uncle is apparently to be considered 'family' now, and the concept is carrying far greater weight these days than it had before Father's ascension to the heraldship. It is, therefore, undeniably in her best interest to court Uncle's favor sooner rather than later. Also, it has become a prerequisite for fixing Zuko's abominable firebending.
"Uncle!" she calls, walking swiftly -- not running -- to catch up with the elder royal.
Uncle Iroh pauses and glances back in surprise. "Princess Azula! I had not expected to see you again so soon. Is there something I can help you with?"
Azula stands as straight as she can, shoulders back and chin up. "I hope so. Father has recommended your aid in my new project. Would you be willing to join my firebending session this evening?"
Uncle blinks and then smiles. He bows. "It would be an honor."
Azula relaxes. Good. Uncle does not seem to be holding on to his frustration with her earlier behavior during Zuko's firebending session. Perhaps this endeavor will not be as difficult as she feared it might be. "Thank you. I'm afraid I must leave for my other lessons currently." She is risking tardiness just with this brief diversion, but it is of critical importance to achieve Uncle's good opinion.
"Of course, of course," Uncle Iroh says with a chuckle. "I will see you this evening, Niece."
Azula nods. "Uncle," she says before walking away -- never running, not in the halls -- with speed in her stride. If she cuts through the secret passage near the royal kitchens, she should be able to reach her destination before the start of her next lesson block.
Azula smirks.
Princesses don't have to worry about decorum in secret passageways.
She wonders if she'll be able to beat her best time today.