Overcome by his desires and perverse lust, every thought as of late was of the dangerously beautiful daughter he had sired. Oh, how he dreamed - of his touch upon that flawless, porcelain skin... of cherry blossom oil and opium smoke clouding his senses in a nauseatingly saccharine haze... the effortless glide of his fingers through impossibly sleek, obsidian hair... quivering thighs and supple, young breasts... helpless cries of pleasure- "Daddy! ...Daddy! ...Daddy!" slipping past those pretty lips.
He deserves this, he deserves it all. The trouble was, he could not discern exactly what this was meant to be... A punishment? Forever dooming him to resist the temptation - or succumb to unnatural perversions and answer for his sins in the next life. A reward? Some higher power, fate perhaps, simply granting him what he is owed after having persevered and clawed his way to the top, even despite the odds.
...
Azula was a princess of the Fire Nation. Azula was the heir to his throne. And perhaps, most importantly, Azula was his daughter. Ozai conceded - the object of his desire was worthy of his respect. She was no whore, unlike her mother. He had no right to treat her as one. But...
...he made her! ...she was his! He had every right to take what was his. Over and again, he'd fantasized of summoning the little princess to his chambers, pinning her down and stripping her bare as the day she was born, simply having his way with her even as she resisted-
Ozai shook his head. No, he would not! His perfect little girl, his pride deserved better...
Such perfection was made to be worshiped - not defiled. Indeed, he would worship every inch of Azula- until she begged for more! She would want it, of her own volition. He would not force her. He would not need to.
"Azula... I would like to speak with you."
In her room, delicately combing her damp hair (which fell beyond her shoulders, now that Mother wasn't there to insist that she cut it) after a hopeless servant foiled her topknot - it certainly wasn't a place where the Princess was expecting her father. Nevertheless, Azula bore a smile as she usually did with Ozai, after all, he could only be here with good news - if his more casual appearance was any indication. "Father" she welcomed warmly, her golden eyes wandering from the head-level mirror to Ozai's own, the candles nearby turning from a dull blue to a hot white in a burst of concentration. "Of course, is there something you need to tell me?" she was expecting many things. Perhaps he was even going to tell her that he had gotten rid of those worthless wenches Lo and Li - a reward for mastering form three of lightning so quickly, she could only assume.
The Fire Lord approached, slowly, though lacking hesitation - in the manner of a serpent stalking his prey. Bending forms and lightning were, in fact, among the furthest things from his mind. His daughter looked lovely, good enough to eat (should he say so himself). As if she had been expecting him.
"Not exactly, My Azula" he said, strong hands descending upon her shoulders. Their shared contact sent a strange, though not altogether unpleasant, sensation throughout his body which he found he rather enjoyed.
The Princess shivered at the Firelord's touch. It wasn't common, outside of discipline or spar, yet Azula welcomed his warmth, the twining of their chi corrupting flame back to the dull blue, any semblance of this being a routine visit forgotten. Though there was no fear - Father wouldn't come this close without good news. He was satisfied with her, and that made her satisfied with herself. "Of course, then is there something you need from me, Father?"
Perhaps this shall be easily accomplished - Ozai assured himself, smiling internally, entertaining a most undignified thought- a fantasy, a (soon-to-be) reality ... his daughter's pretty, little body completely at his mercy and the sweet sound of her begging for all that he wishes to do with it. "Yes, Little Princess," he said, plucking the comb from her manicured grasp. "There is something that I need from you" He leaned in close, inhaled deeply- she smells intoxicating, smothered in perfumes and oils- thus permanently burning Azula into his senses. Gingerly, he brushed away a spill of void-dark hair in order to expose the nape of her wonderfully inviting neck.
"Of course" she repeated, again shivering. Father was touching her like Mother used to, though much slower, much more... the word wasn't in the Princess's vocabulary. More delicate, almost. As if he were handling something precious. That thought made Azula smile. "I'll do anything you ask, Father. As always" she said confidently, ready to take on whatever task he set out before her, many strange and unusual possibilities flowing through her mind, as if she were Ty Lee watching a play on Ember Island for the first time, breathlessly speculating on what was to happen next. Azula was elated, she just knew whatever her Father wanted from her was different this time. He was trusting her with something greater.
Anything... Anything... Anything... The word was this incessant ringing in his head, repeating over and again - it was glorious. Azula would do anything he asked, give him anything he wanted. Why should he have feared, if only for an instant, that she would do anything otherwise?
"Good... my good girl" Ozai rasped. "I do believe..." No longer could he resist- "...you will enjoy this." He pressed his lips to her neck, punctuating heated kisses with bites that would surely bruise... lavishing, sinking his teeth into that pretty, porcelain skin as though intending to devour it. Wasting no time, practiced hands slipped beneath the front of her silk evening robe to cup her breasts, claiming their newfound territory. No one had ever touched her like this, surely- Azula was his.
The firelight flared bright yellow with emotion as the Princess was flooded with feeling and touch that she didn't understand. Okay, that's not true, Azula admitted to herself, as she felt Father place a hand under her developing breast. It wasn't as if she was ignorant - the girls at the academy gossiped all the time. Speaking in taboo was anything bu- She couldn't even think anymore, her mind interrupted by so many strange feelings and sensations. Nobody had ever touched her this way, nobody had dared. Father had said, he said- "Father-" she managed, a question, a plea for respite, a plea for more? The Princess did not know, her mind and chi in turmoil. She was caught breathless, speechless - a strange condition for Princess Azula indeed.
"Daddy" he corrected, sharply. The Fire Lord was a man possessed. If there was one thing he really, truly loved, it was winning. Ozai loved to win and of course, in his mind, he had already done so - whether or not Azula happened to know was immaterial. She could not refuse him, she simply could not- she wants this.
Lecherous hands had their fill, pawing at his young daughter, groping eagerly though taking care not to handle her too roughly. Anticipating her reaction with self-assured smugness, his thumbs brushed over her nipples - just once.
It was shameful. The Princess couldn't even maintain coherent thoughts anymore. Of course, by now she knew what he must have wanted from her. But why? To teach Azula? To reward her? It must be one of the two, she concluded. A shiver at another one of his touches, the candles flaring upwards with passion before burning themselves out - melted wax boiling and splattering all over the wick, a few drops on her right hand. The Princess didn't even notice the pain. "...daddy" she said just as Father had commanded, as if Azula were again a small child, her will suppressed and her knowledge a minnow. The Princess stood up from where she had been sitting, instruments of beauty forgotten, gone with the candlelight, her robe disheveled but still intact.
The very instant that word graced his ears, he hungered to hear it again - And he would. Of this, the Fire Lord was certain. Seizing the princess with a bit more force that was necessary, Ozai pulled her close, until her small body was flush against his- "Do you feel, Little Princess? Do you feel what you do to me?" so that she could feel how he desired her, all of the evidence she needed jutting into her soft skin. Impatient, as well as painfully aroused, Ozai practically tossed his daughter onto the nearby bed and (silently) reveled in the thrill of victory.
Overpowered. That's all the Little Princess could feel, a feeling she was all too familiar with around the Firelord. He was always showing her things. And here he was again, though this was clearly different. It was all becoming a blur for Azula. Questions like 'Do I want this?' 'Is this what Daddy used to do to Mother?' remaining unanswered, the blare of life's music in her ears overpowering. Questions of why and when and want were stripped away along with her robe, overpowered by a feeling she hated, a feeling she promised to never feel again after what Father showed her before in the dungeons - how to make sense of screams. Helplessness. But just as the Princess had learned to smirk at the screams of peasants, she would learn to enjoy this, too. Daddy's promise.