Ozai stared at the wall of his cell. The time had blurred, he had been there so long. His son visited only to demand things from him. He knew he was a monster. He'd been for a long time. But a small flame of humanity still burned within him. This part now contemplated what he'd done.
I used to rule the world,
Seas would rise when I gave the word.
Now in the morning I sleep alone,
Sweep the streets that I used to own.
He once ruled the almighty Fire Nation. Now, he was just a prisoner, chained and guarded, powerless.
I used to roll the dice,
Feel the fear in my enemies' eyes.
Listen as the crowd would sing,
The old king is dead! Long live the king!
He used to control it all. He was feared, revered by his people. Now his son ruled, and it seemed they revered him even more.
One minute I held the key,
Next the walls were closed on me.
And I discovered that my castles stand,
Upon pillars of salt, pillars of sand.
It all changed so quickly. One minute invincible, the next his bending gone. He couldn't trust anyone, not even his own family.
I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing,
Roman cavalry choirs are singing.
Be my mirror, my sword and shield.
My missionaries in a foreign field.
But now, they were his only shot at regaining some honour. Ursa, if she still lived, and he was sure she did, she would return and guide his son. She could bring him a last shot at dying with some honour. He hoped that perhaps she would visit him and forgive...
For some reason I can't explain,
Once you go there was never,
Never an honest word,
And that was when I ruled the world.
Azula always lied. She got it from her father. His son was an honest man. He got it from his mother.
It was the wicked and wild wind,
Blew down the doors to let me in.
Shattered windows and the sound of drums.
People couldn't believe what I'd become.
The war. It changed him. No one, not even his wife, could believe the monster was once Prince Ozai.
Revolutionaries wait,
For my head on a silver plate.
Just a puppet on a lonely string,
Oh who would ever want to be king?
He was waiting to die. People called for his execution. He had never had a choice. Sozin was his puppet master. His son had been strong and brave enough to break the strings. Being Firelord was a curse. He hoped his son would overcome it.
I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing,
Roman cavalry choirs are singing.
Be my mirror, my sword and shield.
My missionaries in a foreign field.
His daughter, Azula, she wasn't as far gone as he was. There was hope for her. La-la, please, please get better. Redeem yourself. Win back my honour. Iroh, your brother, they will help you.
For some reason I can't explain,
I know Saint Peter won't call my name.
Never an honest word,
But that was when I ruled the world.
He would suffer in the Spirit World. He knew it. He was past redemption, but he could die honourably, having his family atone for his crimes. But he would never find eternal happiness, only suffering.
I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing,
Roman cavalry choirs are singing.
Be my mirror, my sword and shield.
My missionaries in a foreign field.
His son, Firelord Zuko. He could undo some of the harm. Ease some of the pain. His biggest disgrace could become the only way he would die having seen some of his horrors reversed. His son's wife was a healer. He hoped his son could heal the world, heal him.
For some reason I can't explain,
I know Saint Peter won't call my name.
Never an honest word,
But that was when I ruled the world.
I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender or Viva la Vida.