Azulon had quickly adjusted to his new role, impressing the masses with his decisive attacks and increasing victories. He eventually found a wife, Ilah, and she bore him a son, Iroh. Iroh was raised as every heir to the throne had been, though he showed an exceptional talent for strategic planning. Azulon decided to place the prince in the military, albeit in a high-ranking position far from the dangerous front lines. The happy-go-lucky young man respectfully accepted his father's assignment, and quickly proved himself in several decisive conflicts against the Water Tribes, earning an early promotion to general. He also displayed the natural gift for firebending that his father and grandfather had shown, even earning the nickname "The Dragon of the West" for a trademark skill of producing a torrent of flames from his mouth. As the Fire Lord grew older, he felt increasingly confident in his son's ability to take his place. Azulon's life seemed to be going so well, in fact, that it seemed almost inevitable that something wholly unexpected would present itself.

"You're WHAT?!" he bellowed at his wife.

"I'm pregnant," Ilah replied in an even voice.

"You can't be pregnant, we already HAVE a child!"

"I know."

"The royal family has no need for additional children! Only the first-born can ascend to the throne, having multiple children just fosters resentment and hostility."

"It was an ACCIDENT, Azulon! You know that!" she snapped, finally raising her voice.

"Well that doesn't solve our problem," Azulon muttered.

"What choice do we have? We'll simply raise him as well as we can and hope for the best. Maybe he'll turn out good-natured, like Iroh, and won't be bothered by it all." Azulon was not so optimistic.

To Ilah's credit, little Ozai seemed to be a relatively normal boy. His parents kept him occupied with mediocre lessons in firebending and military history, and he seemed content. On occasion, Ilah had to scold him for harassing the turtleducks, but otherwise he stayed out of everyone's way.

Which was, of course, only because he was spending his time in the palace library, supplementing his lessons with advanced firebending skills and textbooks on military tactics. He didn't care that he was second-born by a long shot; he knew he was destined for the throne. He didn't care that the Crown Prince was a few decades his senior; he would stop at nothing to seize the throne for himself.

Having exhausted all but the most dangerous firebending scrolls in the royal library, which even he wasn't foolish enough to attempt without more experience and training, the bored little prince wandered the palace looking for things to do and people to annoy. He eventually came to his parents' chambers, the door left invitingly ajar. Glancing around to check for guards, he silently snuck inside and peered around the empty bedroom. A colorful tapestry hanging from a far wall caught his eye, and he went to get a closer look. Running his hands along the smooth threads, he felt a slight bump behind the tapestry. He paused a moment, then moved to one end and carefully pulled back the cloth. The shadows along the wall darkened curiously where he had felt the bump in the wall. He slipped behind the tapestry and approached the hidden chamber. The tapestry offered the only real security, apparently under the assumption that no one would think to check behind it. The boy warily reached into the opening in the wall, and pulled out a small, dried-up scroll. The edges were cracked and crumbling, revealing the scroll's age. He delicately unfurled it, and his eyes widened.