When I first posted the original fic, I wanted to write a sequel but I wasn't really sure how to go about it. It just sat there, four paragraphs in, for the past seven years. Then I took a look at it again today, and... this just happened.
So thank you, everyone who has read this fic even years later. You inspired me to come back to it.
He knows the sun will be rising soon. It is a cruel sort of mercy to know that much, to still sense the sun rising without being able to feel its power calling out to him. He does not feel its warmth at all. He simply knows that it is there, rising and falling as it ever has, and it is rising now.
Ozai sits in a meditative position in the exact center of his cell, and listens to the sound of his older brother's breathing. Small flames hover in Iroh's palms, expanding and contracting with his breath.
That is cruel, too.
"Your son is going to be a great leader," Iroh says. If Ozai cared to look, he feels certain he'd see a proud smile on his brother's face. He doesn't look. He keeps his eyes fixed on the fire.
"That fool is no son of mine," he says. Can't keep from saying, despite knowing the comment was intended to draw these very words out of him. His temper has ever been a hungry flame. He'd banked it with duty, for years and years – but upon tasting true power, he could never do so again. It flared ever brighter instead, and despite having all his power stolen from him at his very zenith, his temper will not settle down to a smolder anymore.
"Fire Lord Zuko has learned in three years what took me decades to understand," Iroh says, calmly. "Something you will never know."
Ozai can feel his lips curl into a snarl. He focuses all his intent on the fire in Iroh's left hand, trying to force it to explode outward. It was a trick he'd been proud of, as a boy, and one that has startled his brother before. At the time, the Crown Prince had nearly shouted in surprise – then laughed, condescendingly praising Ozai's talents even as his own will pressed the flame inexorably down to an ember, then snuffed it out. He'd only ever stolen Iroh's flames for but a moment.
Iroh breathes in; the fire in his hands expand just-so with him. Only because of him.
"Yes, this peace of yours." Ozai scoffs. "Just wait. In a year, perhaps two – the greedy Earth Kingdom will reach too far, and this so-called peace will crumble to ash. His pathetic efforts to please will only expose his weakness, and the Fire Nation will pay the price."
That is how Zuko has always been. Striving so pathetically, desperate to mold himself into what is required yet consistently unable to do so. He lacks the steel edge that is necessary. He is like a shinai, a bamboo sword; usable for practice but not lethal enough to stand the battlefield. Only in the hands of a true master is he formidable at all – and even then, bamboo will splinter and break under enough pressure. If it is not set aflame first.
Iroh may have won, but his victory will not last.
"You're wrong," his brother says now. "Yes, there will be trouble. But Zuko has learned friendship, and trust, and those will serve him well. He is not alone like you were."
"Alone!" Ozai can't help a laugh. "Do you think I alone sought to expand our empire? Do you think I alone kept this war going? It can't be stopped with 'friendship and trust'. The only way to end a fight is to kill your opponent!"
As I should have killed you, last we sat here, he thinks. He'd allowed himself to be fooled by a show of weakness, despite his doubts. Had trusted in the dignity of the royal family, when Iroh instead cunningly acted senile. He threw aside his honor, abased himself for a cheap and temporary victory, and called that wise.
Ozai can feel his brother gaze upon his face, but he doesn't bother to look up at him. He keeps his eyes on the fire, scratching deep into the empty heart of himself, searching for the flood of chi that would produce his own. Just a remnant, is all he would need. Just the smallest spark.
"Obliteration is not the answer, Ozai," his brother sighs. "Did your defeat by an airbender not teach you that? Zhao's mistake at the North Pole?"
"All I have learned from those errors is that half measures will fail." If Zhao had completed his mission, then the Water Tribes would have been powerless. The Air Nomads have not been a problem these past hundred years, and would not be still had his son only been competent enough to complete his task in truth. Instead, the fight had to continue, all the more fiercely for how near victory they fell short before someone's oversight or bleeding heart ruined things. How can this be taken as a lesson for mercy? Mercy has only ever been a method to draw out the victim's suffering. It is a tool of torture, nothing more, and a captured soldier is right to kill himself lest he succumb.
A captured king… perhaps he can turn mercy against his captor.
"Last time we spoke, you told me I had stolen your son." Iroh changes the subject. He has never enjoyed debating with Ozai on matters of state policy or military strategy. Once he had smiled, told him he would understand more if he read enough books, or spoke to enough people. Dismissive words. He always spoke as an authority, never truly listened to what Ozai said… not until he'd broken himself against the Ba Sing Se walls. Then, he'd listened dully. He didn't agree, but no longer tried even to offer counsel, no longer recommended books or scholars. He had simply sat there, dead inside. And Ozai had let him, had thought him harmless. That, if anything, is the truest lesson on mercy he has ever had.
"As you did," Ozai replies, allowing the change of topic.
"I did not steal Zuko from you." Iroh's voice is firm. He no longer sounds weary, but angry. How he thinks he has the right to such emotion, Ozai cannot comprehend. His hands fist on his knees; if his bending were not stolen from him –
"You threw Zuko aside. Again and again, even when he tried to return to you. I welcome him, and I love him as my own, but Ozai, your cruelty and hate is what stole your son away. It is what lost you your wife, your nation, your daughter. Everything. Only you are to blame for this."
"You have not taken Azula from me," Ozai grits out. "She is loyal-"
"Zuko loves her! Despite what you have done to them, he loves his sister." Iroh's breath quickens, and the flames on his palms flicker wildly. "He will not abandon her, even in defeat. They are not like us."
"You think you can take everything from me." Ozai lets his voice show his fury – but keeps his eyes locked on the flames in his brother's palm. They're dancing beautifully, casting shadows on the walls. He thinks of the sun, peering over the rim of the caldera by now. "You paint yourself as some hero, but nothing has changed! You are still the fool who could not win his war, could not keep his own son safe – it will all play out again in time, just wait. I hear things, even here. You plan to leave; selfish as ever. Zuko is too weak to rule this nation alone, and you are too weak to guide him. You're nothing but a tired old man, and the world has been fed on war all its life. The Water Tribes have tasted blood now; the Earth Kingdom has always been greedy. Our own people are conquerors, you cannot force them to sit quietly by as what they've earned is stolen from them. The son you stole will be assailed on all sides before long, and now you tell me he is going to waste his time on the one who tried to kill him? Your victory will not last, brother."
He laughs darkly. Imagines Azula doing the same somewhere, in a cell of her own. She is a satisfactory child, tractable. He's taught her well. She won't fall prey to Zuko's pathetic appeals to emotion. Or perhaps she will seem to… long enough to open a door. Azula has always done what is necessary. If his temper could stand the insult, perhaps he would attempt the same.
No, Ozai is not so weak. Even in the hour of his defeat, he will never bow to another again. He is not like his older brother. He will wrest his power back of his own accord, and the empire that pretends at peace today will only welcome him when that time comes. Letting him live is a mercy they will come to regret.
Iroh makes a soft, wounded noise. Ozai watches as he breathes deep, the fire still following him. When he stands a moment later, Ozai remains seated but tilts his head to track the flames. He breathes, too. Pulls with everything he no longer has.
The fire in Iroh's hand wavers, bends towards the cell. Just for a second.
Iroh stops.
It could just be the movement to standing. His control has weakened over the course of their conversation; perhaps this was simply the result of a breeze. Ozai's bending has been stolen. He is powerless now – they both know this.
Ozai looks Iroh in the eyes for the first time, and smiles.
"Are you going now? It is dark in these cells, and damp. Leave a candle behind."
Iroh stares back, eyes wide and frightened.
Then he closes both fists at once, plunging them both into darkness.
"Goodbye," he says quietly, and turns to leave.
"You are a coward," Ozai calls after him. He can no longer see Iroh, but he imagines the flinch that will follow, and smiles once more. He closes his eyes; the afterimage of that flame burns bright in his mind. Ozai remains in his meditative stance, picturing that flame and what it felt like to wield his own. There is only a cold empty space in his chest now but he claws at it anyway, thinks of that fire bending towards him. He can be patient again.
The sun is almost risen now. He can feel it.
I originally wanted Iroh to be able to speak his piece in a way similar to Ozai in the first chapter, but that's not exactly how it turned out. I think in the end this is true to the characters so I'm happy with it. Iroh is vulnerable to Ozai in a way he isn't to anyone else, and Ozai doesn't have the same motivation to hold his tongue, so he ended up getting the last word.
I deliberately left it ambiguous whether Ozai was actually getting his bending back at all or not. It's enough, for this story, that Iroh fears it for a moment. You could imagine this to lead to an AU where Ozai does recover his bending, or maybe it really was just a coincidence.
I've never read the comics or watched LoK, so if this doesn't fit either of those that's why. It's really only based off the original show.