Smile
Chapter Two:
Hanging
Never again would he consider rum—never. Not even if he had to kill his own mother and had to spend the evening after doing it alone with nothing but a case of rum would he drink rum again.
Yes, this may be a hard feat to accomplish as the prince of and a general in the (heavy drinking) Fire Nation and it's army, he thought foggily, but as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. . .
He moaned lowly, and turned away from the mirror, temples throbbing from the booze-soaked bash he'd held last night with his friends.
After closing all of the curtains, and crawling back into his bed without bothering to change out of last nights clothes (again), he stared at his mosaic ceiling, eyes blurring.
He tried to sleep. He had a meeting with his father in six hours.
But after ten minutes of blissful silence, he heard screams and laughter, and the banging of furniture being crashed into.
Ten minutes after that, Ozai and his friend learned the most important lesson of all; not the stern 'don't spar in the house' rant his father constantly gave them all, especially Iroh, but the even more important one.
The one about Ozai's room being just two rooms down from Iroh's. The one, simple, easy rule that would get you hung from your balcony by your ankles if you disobeyed it.
After Iroh shot off a few fireballs at his younger brother (which he sadly dodged, even upside-down), he stared at both of them flatly as he stood leaning on the balcony's thick stone railing.
"Now, children, what have we learned today?"
His brother and his friend glared up at him sourly, before grumbling the answer, hair swaying from the slight breeze.
". . .Don't spar in the house when Iroh is hung-over."