this is sort of fucked up but i mean it's zhao, so. he's a slimy old man and i really don't like him much. someone pointed out the way-too-much-fun he had messing with zuko and i couldn't stop noticing stuff, man
Zhao was born to command. That much he knows, knows he was born to give orders and burn the inferior, to find the moon and the ocean and burn them too, to bring victory and honor to his country, to his Fire Lord.
He was born to rise in the ranks, to climb the latter- to scroll gracefully up the steps- to the top. And so he does. And it is a remarkably straightforward process. He knows how to speak, how to talk his way in and out of deals and how to charm and how to build people and break them back down with a smile on his face. With his words and with his ferocity- he surpassed his master in that regard long ago, from the beginning, wears it like burning armor- he rises.
He will not stop. He will go down in history.
He knows—
He knows that the Fire Lord sees something in him, the spark of a leader. If he had been born a descendant of Agni (he can't imagine the power he would hold, the honor placed upon his shoulders), he would make good use of it- much better use of it than the prince ever will.
(Years ago he wouldn't have dared speak ill of royalty- still wouldn't dare to of the princess or his lord- but Prince Zuko is soft, has always been soft; he was baptized in fire, disgraced and exiled, and all he has learn to do is hide that weakness under layers of anger and false confidence; he is strong in all the wrong ways— it's almost painful to watch.
But he wants to watch- loves to watch. Loves how easy it is to rial him up, set him off- one low blow, one condescending word, and the boy goes off like a firework. It's so simple, fills him a toxic sort of glee, and he's amazed the prince hasn't learned better yet.
And the scar. It's hideous, and it's beautiful- he saw it happen, the sight (the boy on his knees with pleas and tears so fragile and small and moments away from changing forever) art to his eyes and the screams music to his ears. It's was a shame really; he was such a handsome boy.
He wonders sometimes if anyone touches it. He wonders if Zuko touches it. Zhao wants to touch it, to run his fingers along it and feel the fire underneath it. He wants to see if it tastes salty with tears, if there's the tiniest bit of feeling left or if it's just a bunch of nerve endings burned away. He wants to shove the boy up against the wall and lick the sparks from his mouth, yank back that annoying ponytail and bend him this way and that as easily as he does his fire, show the prince what real fire is, what real power is, teach him a lesson that will stick with him as deeply as the scar does. He wants to feel Agni's fire running through a body under his touch.
He wants to watch the ever-defiant look on his face crumble.)
—he knows that he will fulfill his destiny, carry out the plan the spirits set for him, find the fish- forever circling each other, disgustingly vulnerable in their earthly form- and watch the moon turn red.
And the Avatar- well he'd be a bonus.
And it would be priceless to see the look on Prince Zuko's face when he realized he could never go home.
(Zhao could help him, if he wanted to. Show him ways home without the Avatar, how to impress his father through military tactics and victories so great he'd be welcomed home as a hero, if he wanted to. Have him there by his side, if he wanted to.
He could do many things if he wanted to, but there are too many obstacles and General Iroh would never let the prince out of his sight and Zuko dared to humiliate him at their Agni Kai, didn't have it in him to finish what he'd started- weak, so weak, so soft.
So he won't. But he could.
And then Zuko is the Blue Spirit and Zhao is almost sad he won't be there to watch his tiny ship explode and to watch him burn and watch him drown.)
He will have to settle for the moon and the Northern Water Tribe- destroy the pathetic walls of ice and snow and do what he was born to do. Born to do.
Zhao the Moon Slayer. He will be eternalized in the history books.
Remembered forever.
Iroh is as soft as his nephew, is possibly the source of his nephews's weakness, ruins everything Zhao's worked for for years in the name of balance and other nonsense that the world doesn't need anymore.
And Prince Zuko is alive- strong in all the wrong ways, strong enough to survive an explosion with only a few bruises to show for it, strong enough to fight him when he looks like he hasn't slept in days. Strong for all the wrong reasons.
And soft. So pathetically soft. Soft, and when Zhao is swept up in a watery grasp, the prince actually tries to save him, tells him to take my hand, looks so ridiculously desperate and willing that Zhao could laugh if he wasn't about to die.
But the look- the look on Zuko's face when Zhao holds his hand to his chest in refusal, is wonderful, should be framed and put on the wall of his office, almost makes it worth it.
The moon is in the sky, and he drowns in a sea of green and blue and white and shimmering light.
Zhao the Moon Slayer. Slayed by the moon.
He much rather would've died in a sea of fire.