A/N: I've read some opinions that Ozai is proud of his daughter, but as power-hungry and maniacal as they both seem, I've got a somewhat different opinion. There's one paragraph that might possibly imply physical violence toward an animal and one toward classmates, which is why this story has been M for most of the time I've had it up. But with enough time and experience since writing it, I realize that it's not that bad. Except maybe on the animal. Because I love cute animals. :( So infer what you will on that. I like to infer it hauled tail out of there as fast as it could, but I'm an eternal optimist.
Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender nor any of the characters. Those are Nickelodeon's. And no one would ever pay me to do this, so I'm not making any money, either. The first line is a quote from the episode Siege of the North Part II. Credit where credit's due.
"I have a task for you."
When she raised her head, the fire glinted in her eyes, and for a moment he thought they burned as well. He knew that was ridiculous. She was a prodigy firebender, but no one could be filled with flames.
No human, at any rate. Yet the young girl who knelt before him was no mere human, as far as he had known. He wasn't sure if she had ever been human.
Ozai had seen the flames first when she was a child, no more than five. When she had been given a roo-cat, an exotic pet sent by her uncle from the northern plains of the Earth Kingdom. If it had bitten her, or if it had simply refused to play – he wasn't sure. She never had another pet. She never asked why not.
How terrified Ursa had been of the little girl's behavior. Her answer was to send Azula to the academy and hope that the other little girls there might rehabilitate her. But his wife didn't hear the stories that came back. Cruel stories of accidental fires set to ponytails and widespread fear of her baby's short temper. She never heard because her little girl was a little princess, immune from punishment. Ozai, on the other hand, heard it all. And how proud he was. So very proud.
Those days were over, when the occasional view he caught of his daughter brought him joy. When he was reminded that his line was strong, impervious. His only concerns had been for his feeble brother and the man's own incompetent son. As the Fire Lord crumbled away under their eyes, Iroh somehow clung to his favor like a fungus. They were bound by tradition – something that could not be argued nor burned off. And so Azula remained the only weapon that Ozai had.
In the meantime, he entertained her little pleasures. The pain she caused the other girls, or the torture she inflicted on her brother. What did he care? They were weak and she was strong. She would always be strong. She would always have the flames.
The flames were there the day Ozai was punished, and her mother never came home. They were there the day he punished his ruined son, throwing the worthless boy away from him. And they weren't flames of hatred or envy – flames he knew only too well. He could see it in her eyes, as he could see now, that she felt most alive at these moments. When she could sense the weak being destroyed.
The moment of Zuko's banishment was when his pride changed to fear. And fear to anger. To be sure, he still loved the strength he saw in his little girl every time she slapped a servant or set fire to sleeping guards. But when he burned his son, he saw something new in the flames of her eyes. Desire.
It was the same desire that he knew burned in him when his father passed away. A lust for power that held no love for anyone. He should have seen it all along – her hatred for life fueling her need to be immortalized, to be larger than the life she abhorred. And now he found himself sitting on the throne before his youngest child – his protégé – in the same position as his father sat before him many years past.
He gave her a task that he implied was of utmost importance. Bring back his traitor brother and worthless son. Just to stop further embarrassment. And the burning look she gave him belied her true desires. She wanted to see them both punished, beyond her thirst for power. So she would obey and fetch them at his behest.
She didn't yet realize that he hated her just as much as he hated them. And they all needed to be safely guarded. At least until the end of the summer.
There was a saying, to keep friends close and enemies closer. But how close should family be kept? And how to quench the fire in her eyes?