Disclaimer: AtLA does not belong to me, and I seek no profit.

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Swift Kicks

"No. That is wrong Zuko!" Ozai spat out fiercely, glowering over his son. Zuko's attempt at a flying axe kick failed horribly, he lay sprawled out on the grass nursing a throbbing ankle. Ozai reached down to the crook of an elbow lifting his son to his feet, leaning close so he was hovering inches from his face. "Failure is no option." Ozai was irritated by the tears falling from his son's eyes. So weak. "How many times must we go through this?"

The boy shook his head wretchedly, he wasn't even man enough to look his father in the eye.

"You will train until you get this form correct. You will never disappoint me in public again, boy. Understood?" Zuko nodded turbulently.

"What's going on?" A light feminine voice called out in concern.

Ozai groaned inwardly, releasing his grip on the boy's robes, he folded his arms behind his back, turning expressionlessly to face the untimely interruption. "I am instructing my child."

His wife stood tall, glaring coldly at him as she took in the scene. Her small daughter, trailing her as usual, was followed closely by a coddling maid servant.

Ursa strode right past her husband, falling to her knees beside the boy, who upon being released had sunk back to the ground stifling tears. "Zuko?" She embraced him before holding him out at arms length, taking inventory of his limbs no doubt. "Dear, are you hurt?"

"No." Ozai answered impatiently.

The boy sobbed pathetically on her shoulder, brushing away tears with the sleeve of one arm, while attempting to cradle his ankle with the other.

Ursa looked to her husband, her soft features changed rapidly from concern to anger. She thrust her chin up from the top of the boy's head defiantly glaring at Ozai, who in turn looked on the proceedings with obvious disgust. "How can you justify pushing our child like this? Just because you want him to show off to some stuck-up nobleman who doesn't even--"

Ignoring his wife's idiotic complaints he drilled ahead quickly. "Do not question me. I was far more advanced as a child, if he can't complete the form it's because he's not pushing himself hard enough. He is weak. You're making--"

"He's barely six years old!" Ursa interjected, holding the trembling fool closer. "You can't expect him to master--"

"Oh, but I do." Ozai motioned the wide-eyed maid servant away, leaving his daughter to stand next him. "I expect perfection. He will continue his lessons." He lowered his voice to his most commanding rasp, glaring down the bridge of his nose. "Now."

Ursa turned her head aside angrily, resting it again on Zuko's head. "After his injury has been checked." It certainly did not sound like a request, Ursa pulled herself and the boy up from the palace lawn to their feet.

Ozai was tiring of the woman's persistence. He shook his head, turning from the pitiful sight. He found that his daughter was peering up at him from the vicinity of his knees, an odd little smirk distorting her face. On any other child, Ozai supposed the curled lips would be termed 'endearing', but the way his daughter wore it... was almost mocking. As if stating plainly what she thought of the great Prince Ozai. It was a burning sting administered by a mere child. Ursa's child. Rounding on Zuko he yanked him from his wife's arms. "My child, won't be leaving here until he has mastered the form. I won't have my only son turned into some sissy mother's boy!" He shook the boy's shoulders violently for emphasis, enjoying the shocked look spreading across Ursa's face.

But even as Ozai spoke these words a swift kick caught him dead in the ankle bone. His eyes widened in surprise, his mouth twisting into a hateful grimace. Azula stood next to his rapidly pulsing ankle, her arms folded behind her back, grinning widely up at her father.

Ursa hastily snatched the three-year-old away from him, clutching Azula tightly to her body. Ozai was positively incensed with rage, gritting his teeth, he roughly thrust Zuko from him, the boy practically crashed into Ursa.

"Take your children and leave my sight." He turned his back to his family, glaring towards the high fountains in the distance. Ursa immediately led her children from the gardens, nudging Azula along, as she repeatedly glanced back at her father. Ozai cocked his head after them in revulsion. How could the spirits have punished him with such a son? And the girl. Ursa's daughter would prove even more worthless than her older brother. Weakness. My own blood. Striding slowly toward the nearby marble bench, Prince Ozai struggled to keep a limp from impairing his gait.

----

Inside the confines of the royal palace, the physician was called forth to Prince Zuko's quarters, the thorough examination of his injury revealed nothing worse than light bruising. The recommendation to not indulge in any physical activity prompted sighs of relief. Ursa smiled down at her son, trying to keep the heartache she felt hidden. Zuko bowed his head away, attempting to buckle his small crimson boot as he fisted an eye.

"Zuko?" Ursa rubbed his warm forehead. He raised his face to her slowly, his eyes teary once more.

"I failed." His voice was cracked in exasperation.

"No, Zuko." Ursa replied firmly, cupping his tear-stained cheek. "You're doing wonderfully, you've accomplished so much in such little time."

"It's not enough." Zuko pouted miserably, pulling his legs into his chest, gazing off to the side.

Ursa pulled him up onto his mattress to sit next to her, she rubbed his shoulders tenderly. "Did you do your best Zuko?"

"Yes." Zuko sniffed, bringing his damp sleeve up to mop his tears.

"You see?" Ursa smiled brightly, wiping away spare tears with her own sleeve, she pulled him to her breast. "Then you did exactly what you needed to do, and I will always be proud of you as long as you keep trying to do your best."

"What if your best isn't good enough?" His voice, muffled against her robes, trembled in uncertainty.

"Zuko," She clutched him tighter, "your best is always enough." Her son didn't answer, perhaps he was thinking this over. It may be he didn't believe her. Ursa could understand his confusion. Ozai. She pent her anger. Now was not the time for it. She kissed along Zuko's hairline until she felt his small head nod against her shoulder.

"I love you, Zuko." Ursa whispered softly into his ear, kissing it. He giggled slightly, pulling back to smile tearily at her.

"I love you too, Mom-- Oww!"

Ursa gasped in surprise, finding that Azula had made her way onto the bed and kicked her brother to the floor.

"Hey!" Zuko raged, shaking a fist indignantly, while rubbing his backside with a free hand.

His sister grinned down at him from the edge of the mattress, laughing in a way that could have been termed 'maniacally', but her mother found it begrudgingly endearing.

Ursa sighed. "Zuko, she didn't mean it." Her daughter's widened grin of victory just as soon faltered when her mother added slyly, "But she will have to be punished..."

It was Zuko's turn to grin maliciously. Azula's brow shot up in alarm and attempting to make a break for it, her mother's arms easily overwhelmed her, twisting her flat on her back, Ursa assaulted the tiny body in a barrage of tickles. Azula giggled loudly, half-heartedly fighting to keep the nimble hands from her. Zuko attempted to assist in the attack, but was quickly forced away clutching at his left eye, which apparently had gotten a tiny elbow shoved into it. The first casualty of a fierce battle.

"Why you little monster..." Growling playfully, Ursa untucked Azula's shirt, exposing the pale squirming stomach, she blew kisses into it loudly, her daughter squealed in delight.

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A/N: The Royal Family. Functional little group aren't they?

Perhaps this should not have been the first drabble, as I don't want you to get the wrong idea about things. While not every update will consist of 'incest' there is plenty of it to be had. (Meh, I really enjoy the pairing.)

But I'll always warn you of immoral acts at the top of the page, so you may definitely skip it if it's not your thing. Thanks for reading folks.

Last Note: These drabbles are in no way related one to the other. Unless they happen to be...huh.

--A head-butt to Ozai's crotch would have been a lot more symbolic. ;b