7
"I think we all agree here that should Ba Sing Se fall, the entirety of the Earth Kingdom will too. It is paramount to the Fire Nation's swift victory. The attacks must be continued."
Silence, save for the sharp crackles of Azulon's flames, reigns in the chamber. Ozai sits at the head of the table with arms tightly crossed, eyes training on the red and green markers scattered across the map before him and the others. He leans forward to inspect Ba Sing Se and its outlying villages and colonies. The green easily outnumber the red and Ozai looks up to his father, tries to stare at the man behind his flames.
"Ba Sing Se," Azulon's voice reverberates like a shattering echo, cold enough to extinguish his own flames. The general that had spoken, Shan, dares to look into the wall of flames. He flinches when Azulon slams a fist down on his armrest, and the flames grow taller. Angrier. "I will not allow it. We do not touch that city again, not yet. I have lost two generals in the assault on Ba Sing Se alone. I do not yet know what goes on in Omashu—and I am not hoping for the best. What makes you think I will throw more men to Earth Kingdom wolves so quickly, General Shan, when all you know is how to squander our men, our resources?"
Ozai nods only slightly to himself, eyeing Shan. He has given nothing but empty words. He has no backbone but only the power to sacrifice the men. He looks away when Shan's gaze flickers towards him. There should be more capable leaders in war, Father. Why can't you see?
"With all due respect, Fire Lord, if we discontinue the assault on the Earth Kingdom's greatest fortress, I fear we may lose the war altogether."
The flames dim for only a fraction of a second before they tower over the collection of shivering generals and one Fire Prince, licking hungrily at the ceiling. Azulon's shadow moves in a single jerk forward. "You would sooner demonstrate power foolishly than act like a true thinker, a man who knows war! Tell me, General, do you hope to subdue the enemy through methods of intimidation? Do you think these earthbenders will not stand their ground or even return to the field with numbers increasing tenfold?"
Shan seems to be swallowing with effort and he is lost for words. Ozai looks over the other generals who all seem to be content with staying out of trouble. Their eyes are either on the map or elsewhere—anywhere but on Shan, lest he ask for help, or the Fire Lord. Bujing looks up and meets Ozai's gaze, and shakes his head. The man is doomed he seems to say. Ozai finds no trouble with agreeing.
"Earth Kingdom forces are overpowering our men," Shan tries again. "If our men are driven out, the Earth Kingdom will have time to recover their losses and recuperate. And then they will come back with a vengeance."
"Your suggestions are fruitless ones," Azulon says, and Shan shrinks into his seat. "You have nothing more to offer me but daydreams out of a boy's head. You will remain quiet for the rest of this meeting and watch. Now," the Fire Lord pauses and reclines against the throne again, "Prince Ozai, I would like to hear your input on this. Our forces are suffering in the Earth Kingdom, battered by the earthbenders. What say you?"
Ozai jerks and stares up at his father's shadow, unused to being addressed directly—especially during a war meeting. Suddenly all eyes are on him, even Shan's, and they are heavy with expectation and hope. His hands curl into fists and his entire body stiffens.
He thinks he is beginning to understand the weight he sees in Iroh's eyes, the weight that is also present in Azulon's.
"I do not think it beneficial to have brutes leading our men," he starts, willing himself to be confident. "I believe a change in leadership will make all the difference. Someone must look out for our numbers first before burning Ba Sing Se. Patience and wisdom is key."
"A change in leadership, you say?" Azulon echoes, voice lilting with interest, "Do you have a candidate in mind, prince?"
"Fire Lord, I believe it is for the Fire Nation's best interests that you send one disciplined enough to know what risks to take and what is better left untouched." Ozai stops and takes in a breath. "Send me."
Silence falls again, and this time, the ringing in Ozai's ears is louder than ever.
"How was it?" Li asks, stepping up beside him and leaning against the balcony's railing. She is looking at him with thinly veiled concern, a softer side of herself that no one but Ozai himself is privy to. He should feel comforted by this, but he is not. His rage has subsided, but the storm has not died off.
"He said no. Said I wasn't ready, right in front of all those generals," Ozai spits, grimacing. "I told him I could do it, I could lead the men, but he refused. I am ready, but he wants me to believe otherwise. And maybe…" He drops his gaze and looks away. "Maybe I am what he says I am."
Li strikes the top of the ledge with her palm, a sharp, thunderous sound in the middle of their quiet companionship. Ozai has never known Li to be a gentle woman—really, he thinks she is the younger brother he never had—but she rarely looks at him the way she looks at something less, like a lowly wretch on the streets.
But he knows there is a difference. A decade of friendship does nothing less than that.
"Don't talk about yourself that way!" Her eyes are afire, but it is anger not directed at him. "You're no less than Iroh, you're no less than your father. You know this, Ozai—you know what you're made of."
"He doesn't see it," Ozai shakes his head. "His attention is spent on petty fools like Shan, reprimanding and reprimanding as if it would make a difference to the man. He does not touch the princes because he is an old fool, afraid his line will end where he sits if his sons die on the battlefield…a pity, really, because we could make a difference." He rests a hand on the ledge and sighs. "I could make a difference."
"You can," Li insists, taking a step closer to him. "The Fire Lord just needs…he needs to see you as more than just his child."
Ozai snorts. "You think he loves me, Li? No, if he had to love anyone," he looks down on the caldera city, though his thoughts were elsewhere, "it would be my older brother. Iroh was always the favorite, and now…now there's Lu Ten."
"You think your father's opinion will sway when you have children of your own?"
"No." Ozai shakes his head, the idea ridiculous to him. "The oldest will be placed first in line for the throne. You know this and I know this. It's been as such for as long as the records show. I cannot supersede it."
"But—"
He puts up a hand to stop her. "Enough. There will be no more of such talk. It…it's beginning to sound like treason."
"Fine, fine," Li sighs, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. She looks away as well. "It's just that this has been going on for as long as I can remember. You were always crying in school because your father picked Iroh instead to head out and visit the people…"
Ozai laughs wistfully, though it did nothing to curb the bitterness inside. "Li, I was twelve. I was just a boy."
"You were. And now here you are," Li turns to face him, her lips stretching into a smile. Warm as ever, Ozai thinks. "You're so…"
He raises an eyebrow, interest lilting. "I'm so what?"
She looks at him, blinks and then turns away. Shock flashes across her features for a split second, but Ozai can't be sure. "You're just different, that's all. More princely than ever."
"You mean I'm pompous? Arrogant? Possibly intimidating?"
"Yeah, all of the above. But for all that, Ozai," Li is staring into her palms, spread open before her, "you're a good man."
He can think of nothing to say to that and wonders when his old friend became so sentimental.
"Father told me about what happened at the meeting. You were not at dinner."
Ozai keeps his back to Iroh and rests his elbows on the window's ledge. He looks over the caldera city not for the first time that day and loses himself in its splendor, its magnificence. Even under the light of the moon, the city retains its fiery countenance. Ozai thinks that similarly, even in the face of adversity, the Fire Nation and its people will still stand and fight. Pride envelopes him.
A powerful land, with powerful people. Is it wrong of me to want to be its steward, its leader?
"Ozai?"
He turns on his heels and looks straight at Iroh. He suddenly remembers how much the man looked like their mother and relaxes, clasping his hands behind his back. The memory of Ilah soothes the tension in his body, his spirit. "I wasn't feeling up to it," he says, meeting Iroh's patient gaze. "Let's not talk about what happened in the meeting."
"Why not, little brother?" Iroh steps into his room, into his space, and Ozai is tempted to either send him out or walk out himself. But he doesn't, and he realizes it is because he does treasure the time his brother gives him.
And then he realizes he is beginning to see Iroh like Azulon.
"Alright, let's not talk about that." Iroh grins, the laugh lines on his face so familiar that Ozai's facial muscles jump in his jaw as well. "What about Lady Ursa and the great courtship? Tell me about that, at least. Even Father seems interested, you know."
"He does not." Ozai shakes his head. "And it's not courtship, not yet. It was only one letter. One invitation. She might not even turn up."
"Such little faith," Iroh playfully chides, chuckling. He reaches up and strokes his growing beard. "I, however, think the good lady will indeed show up for you. You did not see her face when she left after speaking to you, little brother."
Ozai snaps to full attention. "Why didn't you mention that before?"
Iroh merely grins, and Ozai tackles the older prince out into the hallway, landing at the feet of the Fire Lord himself.