This was my first A:TLA fanfiction, so it has a soft spot in my heart. I had written it when I was 14, t'was a while ago. Since my writing has improved a great deal, I've decided to make it better and re-post it. Believe me, my grammar has done some improving too.

"What makes you think you have the right to address your Fire Lord when permission wasn't granted?"Ozai asked his brother, before the older man had a chance to speak.

Iroh had bursted into the throne room. No hesitation, he didn't spend a second worrying about the guards. He had business with his brother. "Fire Lord? Is that what you're calling yourself these days, huh? Nice fantasy."

"Well, some fantasy. It's true, you old fool," the younger man replied, twisting his smooth dark beard around his index finger.

"Why?" Iroh asked.

"Why... what?" Ozai replied darkly, although he knew exactly what the retired General was talking about.

"You challenged him. Why?"

"It was to make him a man. He's a coward," Ozai replied. No mercy. No sympathy for his son.

"He's a child," Iroh was speaking to a man he used to think of as his little brother. Iroh still remembered the small child, about twenty years his junior, that he had tried so desperately to protect from the violent rage that ran through their family. A small child that grew up to be the most cruel man he'd ever meet. Worse than his late father, and even worse than Sozin himself.

"So is his little sister. You don't see her acting pitifully pathetic," Ozai scoffed, as he climbed down off of his throne, past the flames, and faced his brother. The heat of the fire was nothing compared to the heat in the conversation. Heat that took years of competition and hatred to spawn.

"You're not raising a child, you're raising a puppet. She's only 11," Iroh shook his head in disappointment.

"And you think you have the nerve to talk to me about raising children?" Ozai countered. "The only one you've raised is dead. Good job, by the way." Ozai knew exactly where he could hit his brother that would sting the most.

Iroh took steps closer to Ozai until their noses were practically touching. "You listen to me," he said threateningly. "You're turning your first born into an empty shell and your second born into some sort of weapon. I may not have been the best father, but at least I cared."

Ozai put his hand to his brother's chest and pushed him back. "I see no use for the boy, anymore."

"You're the fool, Ozai. You have a great son and you have no idea how to treat him," Iroh snarled.

"Well he is my son!" Ozai declared throwing his hands up. "I can treat him however I want. That includes breaking his back when I use it for a footstool and using his face to spar on." Iroh decided that he wouldn't mention if his brother's statement regarding his son was true or not. Ozai had his doubts about who fathered the boy, which made his hatred for Zuko all the more intense.

"I know you wish he was your own, Iroh," Ozai replied with an ounce of soulfulness, that they both knew was faked. "Well, you know what? You can have the brat and teach him the ways of tea and failure. He's disposable the way I see it."

"Oh, I plan on mentoring him further," Iroh assured him. "He's already a better man than you are, and as I've said before, he's only a child. When he's grown, he'll bring you down."

Ozai laughed menacingly. "Oh, please. Spare me this increasingly humorous conversation, big brother. He'll always be stuck right under my foot; Too cowardly to stand up for himself."

"Well there's a reason for that, you're scarring him," Iroh pointed out.

"How long did it take for you to figure that one out?" Ozai laughed at the sick act he had committed only a few hours ago.

"I didn't mean physically!" Iroh said, looking utterly offended. "He's a troubled boy, who desperately needs your approval and you deny him your love, your attention to his feelings, and your mercy."

"That's correct," Ozai said in a monotone voice, looking bored with the conversation.

"Tell me something, brother," Iroh said.

"What?" Ozai asked venomously.

"If he had been the second born, would things have been different between the two of you? I know what you're doing. You're treating him the way our father treated you, for some kind of an eye-for-an-eye. Maybe if he's not you're son, it will be better for him," Iroh finished quietly.

Ozai's eyebrow twitched in anger. He said nothing and looked up at the ceiling. "The words aren't there Ozai," Iroh said smoothly, finally feeling like he had a one-up in the conversation.

"I don't have to answer to you," Ozai spat.

Iroh chuckled although he found nothing funny. "That's what I thought," he said heading for the exit. "He'll be happier than you, and he'll grow up to be something extraordinary." Iroh moved swiftly through the curtain and left.

Ozai laughed.

He'd love to see it.

Thanks as always, please tell me of I have gotten better or worse.