He couldn't say, for sure, just when it was he had started to hate Iroh.

All he knew was that, over the years, he had slowly come to realize that Destiny had constantly snubbed him, and yet seen fit to heap favor after favor upon his older brother. A mother who hadn't died rather than raising the child she had just given birth to. A wife who didn't lust after the heart of another. A firstborn who wasn't a shameful weakling. Worst of all, however, he had Father's approval, and he didn't even seem to care that he had, with no effort at all, won the one thing that Ozai craved so badly.

If he thought about it, however—which he didn't do often, as he found the memory distasteful—it would have to have been the last time he had approached his father, at the age of eleven.

He couldn't even remember what he had asked for, now. All he remembered was the way Father had stared at him, unsmiling, eyes hard beneath his drawn brows, until he had quailed and shrank back, hoping against hope that the shadows would reach out and swallow him.

"Your brother," the man had said at last, each word clipped and cold as ice, "is the crown prince of the Fire Nation, a skilled bender, and a loyal son. Iroh is entitled to anything he desires. You, on the other hand…" The pause dragged on, just long enough for Ozai to count up each and every one of his inadequacies. "You are nothing more than insurance, an unneeded spare not worth the pains it took to birth you, much less your mother's life. You would do well to remember that."

He had swept off before Ozai could even manage to stammer out an answer.

Now, as he read the letter that had been sent from the battlefield, Ozai couldn't quite suppress the smile that was tugging at his lips. For the first time in his life, his perfect older brother had failed. Not only that, but now that his obnoxious brat of a nephew was out of the way, Iroh's line was ended—permanently. Never again would his father be able to say that he was not needed—not when the next Fire Lord was left without an heir.

That is, assuming that Iroh took the throne at all.

He stood in thought for a moment as the idea came to him. It would be risky—any audience with his father always was—but maybe, just maybe, if he framed his request in terms of service to his country rather than his own desires…

Snapping his fingers, Ozai summoned his servants, one to carry the request to his father, the other to inform his wife and children of the meeting. It was regrettable that he would be unable to exclude Zuko from such a delicate endeavor, but both of his children would need to be there if he wanted to stress his point. The boy had better not embarrass him again.

Not even his failure of a son could tarnish his mood for long, however. Not on a day like today, when for once in his life everything seemed to be going his way.

Now, brother, he thought as the servants dressed him in his best clothes, it's time you had a taste of what you've put me through.

A/N: In which we see the cycle of abuse in action.

I once watched a BBC special on what makes a psychopath, and found myself applying a mental checklist to the Fire Nation royal family. Apparently a certain variant of a certain gene, in combination with childhood abuse… well, that would certainly explain Ozai and Azula, and possibly Azulon as well.

Also, I was mildly disturbed by just how easy I found it to get into Ozai's head.