A/N: Whoo-hoo! More Zhao! He's fun to write. Got this up later than I meant to, but had a bit of an upset and then I got distracted with another story. In other words...

To my Transformers readers! I am updating 'Til All Are One this Friday! You read that right! There will finally be an update on that danged story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender. Nor do I own any chunks of dialogue lifted directly from the episodes.


Flight of the Phoenix

Chapter Three: The Failure


The room smelled awful. That in itself wasn't too surprising. Locked in that room were two boys; one already a teenager, the other on the cusp of adolescence; both growing, both changing and both capable of producing massive amounts of stink. It was one of the many reasons Zhao had a strong dislike for anyone younger than the age of eighteen. The teenagers always got so sweaty so fast and simply stunk until they could get themselves into a bath.

And after four and a half days of being locked in a room that was only a stone's throw from the boiler room so all the heat collected here and no chance to bathe (so the room reeked of foul body odors), with minimal amounts of food (enough to keep them alive and standing but not enough to allow them the strength to Bend to any great degree), and only two visits to the head within every twenty-four hours (causing the room to smell of human waste, though considerably less prominently), the overall stench was nearly overwhelming.

Oh, he imagined that the two boys had probably stopped noticing the stink after a while, but Zhao had deliberately avoided coming here during the voyage, so the smell was really brand-new to him. It took a moment for the smell to become tolerable and then he moved on. He knew how important capturing the Avatar had been to Prince Zuko and he wanted to see the boy squirm when he finally arrived.

Today was the day when Zuko's life would officially come to an end.

Zhao wanted to enjoy every second of it.

The guards unbarred the door and tromped in, brandishing their spears needlessly. It was little more than a show of power. The two boys didn't look up to doing much. The Avatar had slumped low to the floor, looking pale and drawn and there were darkish circles under his eyes. When he tilted his head up to look at the approaching guards, there appeared to be a very fine, barely noticeable gloss of dark hair on the shaved scalp. With his neck straight, the dark shadowing disappeared. The previously purple-black bruise had turned a yellow-green around the edges.

As for Prince Zuko, he didn't bother to look up or acknowledge the presence of the guards or Admiral Zhao in any way. A mark of disrespect. No matter the rank of the officer, one always acknowledged the entrance with the proper respect. Just because Zuko was the prince -- though it probably wouldn't be that way for much longer -- it didn't excuse him from being respectful to his elders.

The guards hauled the Avatar roughly to his feet, causing him to cry out as his injuries were mercilessly jostled.

"Careful!" Zhao barked, causing the guards to pause. "He is not to be damaged!"

A bit late for that. He added mentally, eyeing the bandages around the Avatar's left hand. The boy's hands were being rebound behind his back. For the duration of the trip, they had been tied in front of him to prevent any further injury to the wounded right shoulder, but now it was time for them to go behind his back. The same was being done to Zuko.

Despite the substandard meals and the lack of proper rest, the Airbender obviously still had some fight left in him, for he dug his heels into the floor and resisted every step of the way. Zuko stood up before the guards could reach him and exited the room under his own steam. The guards swiftly took up position on either side of him to negate the thoughts of any funny stuff. Zhao turned quickly to leave the foul-smelling room behind and slunk up between the guards to be right next to the prince.

"Trying to maintain your dignity, I see." the admiral said scathingly. Zuko didn't bat an eye. "I promise you that your father is going to rip every last shred of dignity from you before he allows you the sanctuary of a prison cell." He smiled, content in the knowledge that he had won. "And I am very much looking forward to seeing it."

The barely suppressed twitch in Zuko's eye informed Zhao that his words had hit a deep nerve and he walked ahead to catch up with the still-struggling Avatar.

"And you." he said to the boy, clamping a hand tightly on the injured shoulder. "It will be interesting to see what the Fire Lord has in store for you. We can't kill you, obviously, but there are a number of ways to keep you subdued."

"Try 'em all! My friends will be busting me out in two days! Tops!" the Avatar replied with an edge of the heroism that Zhao hated. "I'm not afraid of you!"

"While it normally is a very good idea to be afraid of what I can do to you, it's not me you should be afraid of for the time being." Zhao said with a smug smirk. Letting that linger, he lengthened his stride to get topside and check on the arrangements the Fire Lord had made for the two prisoners. Yes, everything was falling into place now. The Avatar, the last of the Airbenders, was in Fire Nation custody. All that was left now was to wipe out the Northern Water Tribe -- the Southern Tribe was too pathetic to make the effort worthwhile -- and crush the Earth Kingdom. And then Fire Lord Ozai would reign supreme over all the land.

Zhao couldn't wait.

Out in the port, the smaller warship found a place at the long docks. Iroh stood on the deck beside Lt. Jee, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his face carefully arranged as to not betray his feelings on the matter. He had never thought that he could be so unhappy to see his home country again; never thought that the air wouldn't smell as sweet. He could not smell any of the early-blooming wildflowers or the cherry blossoms that always bloomed at this time of year. The only scents that accompanied the wind were smoke, iron, sulfur, and brimstone, born from the presence of so many Firebenders and volcanoes. All the smells that supposedly existed in the depths of Hell. For a moment, Iroh wondered if he had stumbled through the gates of Hell by accident. He'd had no appetite these last four days and his tea had never tasted so sour.

This was wrong.

Fortunately, he was not the only person who had such thoughts.

"I did want to come home," Lt. Jee started. "But I didn't think I'd be coming home under these circumstances." His gaze slid sideways, off the shore he had yet to set foot on. "General Iroh, what do you think is going to happen to the prince?"

Iroh took a deep breath and released it.

"My brother is not known for his mercy." the old general said. "I'm afraid, Lt. Jee, that I cannot give you a straight answer. This is uncharted waters for everyone. We will have to be patient and see how the following events play out."

Lt. Jee did not appear very happy with the answer, but he chose not to question any further. There was no point; if no straight answer could be given. He wasn't going to admit even on pain of death, but three years at sea had heightened his tolerance levels, he had come to respect the prince and he had grown used to being around the impulsive idiot. There were times where Zuko could be a downright nice guy, rare as they were. Lt. Jee had a suspicion that if he asked around the crew, he would find that many of his ship-mates shared similar opinions of the prince. Wouldn't Zuko be surprised at the level of respect he unknowingly commanded?

But all of that meant squat now. They were back home and Zuko was powerless in the shadow of Fire Lord Ozai.

A strong breeze ruffled hair and clothes alike as Aang was finally forced above deck, as if the wind was greeting its last Bender. Despite the situation he was in, he looked around the port, gray eyes alight with interest. The deviations from his memory were subtle and he couldn't quite catch them unless he was really looking for them. A century's worth of erosion had narrowed the protective arms of the port by inches, widening the expanse of water. He could just barely see the volcano caldera where the capital city was located and wondered how different it was now.

To avoid running into anyone who might possibly still support their banished prince, the warships had been brought into the military harbor that was located up an inlet behind the capital city. It had added that extra half-day to their travel time, but it was small price to pay for bypassing the people looking for the next big story to gossip about.

There was a prison wagon awaiting the prisoners at the end of the dock on dry land, ready to be pulled by a team of ostrich-horses. The primal instincts started to take hold and Aang realized that if he didn't make an attempt to escape now, he wasn't going to get another chance.

He eyed the guards on either side of him. They were gripping his arms tight enough to make anyone else think twice about escaping, but other than that, they weren't paying much attention to him. He didn't have enough strength to Airbend his way out of this -- Zhao had seen to that -- but he had to do something and he had to do it now. That wagon was getting closer with every step.

Stubborn determination kicked in and Aang dug his heels into the dock. It was made of wood and this time, he successfully halted the forward procession. Before the guards could shove him along, the Airbender yanked himself backwards and out of the unprepared grips. He crouched low and in a neat spin-kick, knocked the guards down. The others rushed forward to stop him, but Aang dodged their attempts as well and leapt over the side of the dock into the moderately deep water of the port.

"After him!" a guard ordered.

"Into the water?"

"Yes, into the water! Don't let him escape! The Fire Lord would have our heads!"

Reluctantly, the guards dropped their spears, pulled off their helmets and followed the Avatar into the water. Zuko raised his eyebrow, half-marveling at the Airbender's courageously stupid bid for freedom and at the same time, cursing him. He was a fool if he thought he was going to get away.

The heavy armor had the Fire Nation soldiers sinking right to the bottom, but it wasn't like Aang was having much better luck. He was still had heavy chains on his arms, his wounds still pained him and four and a half days of sitting around and doing nothing expect staring at unchanging walls with bad food had taken a toll. With his arms bound, he wasn't as fast or as agile as he normally was. He also hadn't taken a proper breath of air before diving and he fought to rise to the surface.

Where the remaining soldiers were waiting.

Zuko winced sympathetically as the pole ends of several spears came flying at the Avatar, beating him about the neck and shoulders. The soldiers were quick to haul him out of the water -- he had surfaced just on the other side of the pier -- before he sank again. With the boy suspended limply between the two guards, groaning softly, the procession continued on to the wagon. A few soldiers stayed behind to help their comrades out of the water. Zuko breathed a soft sigh. He couldn't explain away the momentary hope that had sparked in his heart, but who was he kidding? Even if the Avatar had been successful in eluding the soldiers and making his escape, there was no way he would come back for the person who had done nothing but chase him around in hopes of capturing him.

No, he had to accept the full gravity of the situation. There was no one coming to rescue either of them.

Into the wagon they were shoved, the iron frame creaking and rattling as the ostrich-horses pulled it up the rough path. They would arrive at the "back door" of the palace. Zuko had only seen it once. When he had been four years old, a group of intrepid Earth Kingdom soldiers had attempted to lay siege to the capital city. To their credit, they had made it through the palace gates, forcing the royal family to be evacuated. He remembered being carried through an underground tunnel down to a heavily-fortified bunker. Had the Earth Kingdom soldiers made it any further in, they would have evacuated the bunker as a precautionary measure. Through the "back door". Every palace had one. It was stupidity not to.

A heavy, sinking feeling grew in the pit of Zuko's stomach as they passed through the "back door" and into the subterranean tunnels. Aang had regained his wits by this time and unlike Zuko, he did not have the same sinking feeling. He kept looking around, eyes wide with wonder. He had never known this part of the Fire Nation capital had existed.

"Hey, are we under the palace?" he asked curiously.

"Be silent." a guard said harshly.

"But I just want to know if we are." Aang said in a small voice, a look of hurt on his face. Was there something wrong with being curious?...

Zuko hoped that the Avatar would have the sense to keep his mouth shut and his eyes down when they were brought before the Fire Lord.

He closed his eyes on the trip through the palace proper. He did not want to see the corridors of the place where he had grown up. He did not want to see the faces of the palace staff. He could already hear them whispering and gasping. He didn't need to see. Memory guided his feet along a familiar path. How many times had he walked it; whether to see his father or his grandfather? All he knew was that he had walked down it often enough to traverse it with his eyes closed. He did not open his eyes until his footsteps went from soft carpet to the hard marble floor of the throne room.

To Zuko's unmatched horror, the throne room was packed with every official from within the Fire Nation capital and beyond. Instead of a sinking feeling in his stomach, his stomach seemed to be gone altogether, taking his lungs with it. He couldn't seem to breathe right and for a moment, the room spun dizzily. His heart pounded so hard, he thought it was going to burst from the confines of his chest. This was what Zhao had meant when he said that the Fire Lord was going to rip every last shred of dignity from him before granting him the sanctuary of a prison cell. Every important person in the Fire Nation was going to see the fall of their prince.

Zuko scanned the length and width of the throne room, searching out familiar faces. At least half of these people he had seen at one point or another in his childhood and all of them were loyal to his father. He saw his sister Azula, standing at the bottom of the steps that led up to the throne. Her eyes gleamed like molten lava in the light from the many torches, her lips curved in a vicious smirk of triumph. He couldn't expect any help coming from her. There was little love lost between the siblings. Azula must have been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Then he caught sight of his uncle, standing in the back and only half-visible. The old man glanced in his direction and a split second was all Zuko could take. A lump swelled in his throat and he tore his eyes away from his uncle. He didn't want to see the disappointment he knew would be there. He doubted he would ever be able to make eye contact with his uncle again. There would be no help coming from that direction either.

So this was what it felt like to be truly alone.

And then, from beyond the palisade of fire, Fire Lord Ozai rose gracefully to his feet, his face lit by the flames but still cold and expressionless. The fire parted for its master as he strode forward, down to the steps to the main floor. As he did, the entire convocation dipped their heads in a bow. The guards forced both Aang and Zuko to their knees on the cold marble floor, shoving their heads down in a mockery of subservience.

Ozai eyed the two prisoners being presented to him. The Avatar -- the runt of an Airbender who had defied the Fire Nation for one hundred years; by running and hiding. The dead Air Nomads would be ashamed to call this boy one of their own; much less take pride in calling him the Avatar.

And his own son -- the failure. A dishonorable, failure of a son. He wasn't going to give Zuko a chance to defend himself. As far as Ozai was concerned, Zuko had nothing to defend.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Ozai raised his hands, calling for everyone's attention. "I am glad that you were all able to gather here today, to witness this!" He pointed to the bound prisoners. "Our greatest victory! And our greatest failure!"

Zuko flinched, the words cutting deep. Aang winced sympathetically, though he had no idea what it was like to be called a failure by someone who shared your blood. He just guessed that it had to hurt.

"The greatest threat to total victory has at last been abolished! The noble Admiral Zhao has successfully captured and delivered the Avatar to our mighty homeland!" Ozai went on triumphantly. "His name shall be engraved in the hearts and memories of our people for all time!"

There was a great roar that reverberated throughout the cavernous room. Zuko grit his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. Aang shivered under the somehow unearthly sound. Ozai turned to the Airbender.

"How does it feel, Avatar?" the Fire Lord asked, still speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. "How does it feel to be the last of your people? To be the last member of a group of people who tried to eradicate the glorious Fire Nation?"

"What?!" The word snapped out of Aang's mouth before he could stop himself. "You've got it wrong! The Fire Nation attacked the Air Nomads! We don't even have an army--"

"Silence!" Ozai barked. "You will speak only when I allow you to."

He looked so dangerous, especially with the smoke rising from his clenched fists, that Aang's throat suddenly went dry. A scratchy coughing noise escaped him and he lowered his head. With so many people around him who were against him, it was in his best interest to say as little as possible.

"And you, my son." Ozai now turned to Zuko, shaking his head in a disapproving fashion. "How could you fail me so?"

Zuko tried his hardest to sink into the floor, to escape this situation. It was worse than he had imagined, with so many eyes focused on him. For the first time in his life, he sort of wished that he was an Earthbender. At least then, he could hide away from this.

"I generously gave you the means to redeem yourself." Ozai said, staring down his nose at the prince. "And you returned my good faith with unforgivable failure. I am ashamed to call you my son."

Zuko flinched again, his eyes starting to burn. He tried not to let it show, but it was anyways. He knew it from the sudden shift in his father's stance.

"A true prince of the Fire Nation does not show his feelings." the Fire Lord said. "You must be more of a fool than I had realized before. I am almost sorry that it has to come to this."

A hand holding a short dagger emerged from the depths of the long sleeve. Ozai unsheathed the thin blade and took three steps forward. He reached down with one hand and seized Zuko's phoenix tail. Zuko bit his lip as his hair was mercilessly pulled and drew blood when he realized what was coming next. With the dagger in his other hand, Ozai cut off the long tail of hair. He held it up for all to see like it was a trophy. The tears Zuko had been struggling to hold back overflowed and spilled down his face. The phoenix tails were a traditional part of Fire Nation dress -- every child with hair long enough wore their hair in such a fashion. To cut it off meant that you were publicly announcing that you had cut the ties of loyalty to your country. And to have someone else cut it off...

"Had you learned the lessons of respect and honor that your exile was to teach you, you would not be suffering such an indignity right now." the Fire Lord said. He ran his fingers through the unattached strands and then threw the phoenix tail into the flames. The smell of burning hair quickly became obvious in the crowded hall.

"You will never become the Fire Lord. I hereby strip you of your rank and title as the firstborn prince of the Fire Nation. You are a disgrace to this people and this country." Ozai spat, tucking the dagger away. He made gesture to the surrounding guards. "Take these two away to the prison tower. I never want to see them again."

The guards came forward to do just that. Aang fought for just a moment until two fingers were driven hard into his injured shoulder and the resulting pain was enough to stun him for a second or two, enough the guards could get secure grips. Zuko, on the other hand, seemed wholly resigned to his new fate and he allowed the guards to take him without a fight.

"Farewell, Zuko." Ozai raised a hand in what could be construed as a farewell to someone who didn't know better. "When the armies of the Fire Nation march victoriously over the ruins of Ba Sing Se, may you finally realize what road your dishonorable actions have led you down."

The Fire Lord then turned and marched back up the stairs, returning to his throne. The throne room erupted into another roar as the nobles and officials immediately began to debate over what this new development would mean for the Fire Nation. The Avatar had been captured, meaning their victory in the war was now assured. And their prince was officially announced deposed, meaning that Azula would one day ascend to the rank of Fire Lord; the first woman on the throne since before the reign of Fire Lord Sozin.

What did that mean?

Iroh was certain that he knew exactly what it meant. It meant that the Fire Nation was ruined in advance. If the next heir was Azula, of all people.

The Fire Princess couldn't be construed as sane in very many contexts. She was a prodigy; better than many of the master Firebenders out there and even better than her own brother. And she had known it. She was the favorite of her father and it had gone straight to her head, fueling the sadistic nature that had been present within her from a very young age. She had never played with her dolls. She had tortured them and burned them; had stuck their heads on pikes and had displayed them in the courtyard, causing the maids to hurry and clear away the grisly display before any visiting nobleman saw it. Her kind words were always laced with sarcasm and venom; she had never truly meant any of them. She seemed to enjoy watching people suffer -- especially people named Zuko.

It meant that when the day came that Azula took the throne as the next Fire Lord, the Fire Nation would finally trip ass over head. There would be no one there to help it back to its feet.

Only when they were so far in the pit that they couldn't see the sunlight anymore, they would realize what this war had led them to.

And on that day, Ozai would pay dearly for making such a foolish mistake.


They said that there was no place like home.

Some days, Iroh still wondered who this mysterious "they" were.

Nonetheless, it was true. Even if he didn't like the circumstances under which he had come home, it was nice to be back his own rooms after three years at sea; with its thick rug and wonderful view of the lake behind the palace. He always liked watching the moon rise over the water and some nights there would a light mist, making the view appear just that much more ethereal and mystical.

It happened to be one of those nights, where the mist shifted softly with the breeze and the nocturnal fish splashed gently along the surface. Iroh sat on the balcony with a hot cup of ginseng tea and watched the silver crescent moon ascend through the wispy clouds. He had brewed the tea himself. Bless the palace staff for all their hard work, but for the life of any of them, they couldn't brew tea just the way he liked it. He had found that it tasted better when he did it himself.

He sensed more than heard his chamber door glide open. Footsteps moved briskly across the rug and to the balcony door. There, his visitor halted.

"I came to see that you were settling in alright." Ozai said. "This must be quite a change from the warship."

"It is too cold in my room." Iroh said, not looking around.

"I find it too cold out here." Ozai replied. He sounded almost kind. "Come inside brother, and tell me about the last three years. You traveled the world. The things you must have seen."

"I am too tired tonight." Iroh said, not deterred. He did not want to speak to his brother more than was necessary and he was willing to spend the night out here if it came to that. "I am an old man. I need my rest."

"As you wish, dearest brother." Ozai said with the barest trace of a sneer. Etiquette dictated that he was to always be polite to his honored older brother.

He turned to leave.

"Ozai."

The Fire Lord paused and looked over his shoulder. "Yes?"

Iroh took a fortifying sip of tea.

"Was the scene in the throne room today truly necessary?" he asked, gently placing his teacup on the small table.

"Yes!" Ozai turned fully, his sleeping robe swirling about. "My son stained his honor by refusing to stand up and fight three years ago! He tarnished the noble image of this esteemed royal family!" Thin streams of fire blew from his fingertips as his hand lashed through the air. "It is essential that a traitor learns his place!"

"No!" Iroh stood up swiftly, restrained anger burning hot in his voice. "My nephew respected his father."

Iroh nearly bit his tongue. He did not know where such possessiveness had come from. But he had been more of a father to Zuko in six years than Ozai had been in ten years.

Golden eyes met golden eyes, both burning with the flames they were well-known for.

"The task of capturing the Avatar was given to Zuko. Not Admiral Zhao. Even I did not anticipate that Zuko would stand idly by while Zhao attempted to claim the honor for himself." the old general went on, keeping a careful eye on his younger, but less predictable brother. "Zuko spent three years hunting the Avatar. He would not allow his hard work to be taken by someone less deserving. He hunted the Avatar because he thought-- No, he believed that by capturing the Avatar, he would finally earn the respect and approval he wanted from his father. He was defending his right to his honor and you lay upon him a punishment whose severity is out of proportion with the supposed crime."

These words seemed to be a clincher, of sorts. Fire flared from within Ozai's tightly clenched fists and traveled up his arms to wreathe him in flames, but Iroh stood his ground. He would not stand by and listen to Ozai ream his nephew for an apparent failure. With what appeared to be great difficulty, the flames shrank back and Ozai calmed down. But he was still dangerous.

"Zuko is my son, disinherited or not. He was punished as I saw fit. He deserves every second of it." Ozai said. He drew himself fully upright, haughty and proud. "I am the Fire Lord. My rule is unquestioned."

There was no reasoning with him tonight. Iroh sighed.

"That it is." the old general conceded, tucking his hands into the opposite sleeves.

"I'm glad you still understand that." Ozai said. "I do not want to see you sent out to sea for another three years. I rather like having you at home again, brother."

At home where you can keep any eye on me, you mean. Iroh corrected silently. The power behind the throne is not your generals nor is it even you. It is myself and Zuko. You never make decisions that will positively affect your brother and your son. You are afraid that Zuko will succeed you and you know that if that happens, I am right there to support him. You know that you must keep us in the corner for as long as possible. You fear the day that we will slip free.

Ozai gave a short, curt bow; more to show respect to his older brother. "I bid you good night, brother."

And he then swept out of the room, his footsteps fading down the hall. Out of sight, but certainly not out of mind. Iroh turned around, knowing on this side of the caldera, below the rim and out of sight, was the prison tower. He could trace the path from the palace that led to that awful place. Perhaps he would visit it tomorrow morning, when he could find the time.

And then, perhaps, he would find himself an excuse to leave the Fire Nation. He did not want to spend any more time trapped in Ozai's corner. He had enjoyed waking up in the mornings to find himself in a new place. Traveling the world could be exciting if you had the patience for it. The journey could be just as rewarding as the destination and he had seen some truly magnificent sights.

He was never going to be able to enjoy a nice cup of tea while he was still here.