The Final Battle of the Hundred Year War
1
Ozai lowered his hand. The letter he had just received slipped out of his fingers. It hovered briefly in the air… before it finally touched the floor.
Even though the boy's absence had become as common as that of his father, after being deployed to Ba Sing Se, Lu Ten being gone for more than just a military mission was… unthinkable. His nephew…
His nephew was dead.
How? Why hadn't Iroh been there to ensure it didn't happen? They had been deployed in the same mission, curses, what kind of risk-taking had Lu Ten incurred in that threw him into danger? Had it been his own choice? Had it been Iroh's orders? Had Iroh's greatest campaign of all time truly become enough of a failure that his own son had perished in his efforts to breach the city?
His chest heaved. There was something to this that he didn't want to acknowledge, at first… but as the truth about Lu Ten's demise gained ground, so did that unpleasant awareness. It grew in size and strength to the point where he couldn't help but snarl…
His hopes to gain Lu Ten's support on his quest for the throne would never be fulfilled now. Without the boy's failure to be the perfect heir Azulon would want him to be, the situation was entirely different. Iroh was now a victim of tragedy, and the wretched demeanor Azulon ever displayed, favoring Iroh mindlessly, constantly making excuses for him, caring nothing to acknowledge that his perfect son was, in fact, as imperfect as could be, was bound to grow worse still…
But he wasn't all that perfect anymore, truth be told, and Azulon couldn't hope to deny it. Daiyu had given him no more children.
Iroh was the firstborn, but his family branch now officially ended with him.
"The Fire Lord will need me now."
The words came from the man who had brought him the missive, personally: Shaofeng appeared troubled by the news, perhaps even regretting his attempts to aid Ozai by helping him make use of Lu Ten politically.
Ozai shook his head, making a hand motion dismissively.
"Go, then. He must be…"
His own words gave him pause: how was Azulon taking the news, actually?
He couldn't imagine the man would be torn up by sentimentality. Not Azulon. If anything, he would be outraged, ranting over what a careless whelp Lu Ten had been, letting himself die on a battlefield. Or would he show him more compassion than that? Had it been Ozai, there was no doubt he would have said words just like those, or he might have even rejoiced in his demise. But as it was Lu Ten…
This was a setback to Azulon's wishes. It was a blow against his legacy. Just as it was one against Iroh: Ozai's older brother was no longer a viable heir. Without a wife to grant him children, and without a child anymore… Iroh's tenure as Fire Lord would be brief, pointless, and he would be succeeded by Ozai himself before long.
Why wait, though? Most of all when the missive Shaofeng had brought him indicated that Iroh hadn't even chosen to stay and finish the siege, cowardly so: he could challenge Iroh to an Agni Kai as soon as he arrived. He would win, Ozai had no doubts, most of all when Iroh was at a low point, ripe to make the wrong decisions in a duel.
There was historical precedence for this. There were laws and rules that could be followed to enact this plan. If Ozai simply acted on them… Azulon would have no choice but to acknowledge Ozai's family as the main branch of the Royal Family, going forward.
Lu Ten hadn't served the purpose Ozai had in mind for him, no, but… he had still laid the grounds for him to make his move.
Ozai gritted his teeth before rising to his feet, facing Shaofeng.
"Before you go, please… request an audience for myself and my family with the Fire Lord."
"I… cannot say if he would receive you, as things stand," Shaofeng frowned, eyeing Ozai with unease. Ozai nodded.
"I know. Please try, nonetheless. It's important," he said. Shaofeng hummed.
"As you wish, Prince Ozai."
Ozai's heart raced as he marched through the corridors, in the opposite direction to that which Shaofeng had taken off through. He caught sight of a servant: he asked the young woman to seek his wife and tell her to meet him in their room.
He only had to wait around five minutes: tearful, wiping her eyes as gracefully as possible, Ursa shivered as she marched up to him, holding her own letter, reporting Lu Ten's death.
"Ozai…" she said. Ozai gritted his teeth. "Oh, I can't believe…"
"I can scarcely believe it myself," he said, stepping up to her, his hands falling on her shoulders.
"Iroh… he must feel as though he'd been the one to die. I cannot imagine the pain, I…" Ursa said, shaking her head and covering her mouth with a hand. "I've told the children. You won't have to do it yourself."
"Thank you," Ozai said, nodding. "I've requested an audience for us all with the Fire Lord."
Ursa's tears might have continued to spill freely if it weren't for those words. She froze up, looking at Ozai in confused disbelief. The Prince met her gaze with determination.
"What? Why?" she said.
"I've thought it over. This… this isn't what we were aiming for. It's not the same opportunity, but…"
"Ozai: your nephew's death is not an opportunity. Outright," Ursa said, fiercely: the outrage in her gaze spoke for itself… but Ozai was convinced that he could mitigate it.
"Even if you don't wish to acknowledge it at such… it can't be anything else," Ozai said. Ursa gasped. "My brother no longer has an heir, Ursa. He is much older than I. What do you think will happen when he passes away, without other heirs? If, by some misfortune, I were to die before him, the throne would be passed on to Zuko regardless. The only people left to carry the legacy of our family are… are our children, Ursa."
She wanted to deny it. To say he was utterly mad for thinking of such things right now. And yet… Ozai could tell Ursa had slowed down upon hearing his words. Her frown gave away that she was pondering possibilities… and so, he breathed deeply and launched into further explanations.
"I have requested this meeting to prove that we're here. That we can carry the torch Iroh most definitely cannot anymore."
"What if he remarries?" Ursa asked, scowling.
"If he hasn't done it so far, why would he do it now?" Ozai asked. "My father has never pressured him on that front. Doing it right after Iroh lost his son would likely not have a positive result for my father either way…"
"He might continue to pressure Iroh on that path anyway…" Ursa said, rubbing her brow with her fingertips. "Though you're not wrong. I… I can't seem to imagine Iroh choosing to remarry. He might even… he might even reject the throne, for all we know."
"He could. And where will that leave my father, then?" Ozai said. Ursa frowned.
"He could still… Ozai, this is dangerous. You can't poke the bastard when he's at his most vulnerable. He's already dangerous enough on any given day, worse yet when he has all these weaknesses you're keen on exploiting," Ursa said, shaking her head. "He will think you're an opportunistic fool, he won't even be likely to agree to this meeting to begin with, and…"
A knock on the bedroom door startled Ursa out of her explanations. She froze up, panic apparent in her eyes. Ozai scowled and stepped to the door, opening it to find a familiar Imperial Guard on the other side of it.
"The Fire Lord will see you in the Throne Room, in thirty minutes. Don't be late."
Ursa gasped. Ozai froze: it was quite easy to believe Ursa would see things so much more clearly than he could… thus, it was shocking to find her prediction disproven quite so quickly, just as she was voicing it.
"I… I see. We shall be ready on time," Ozai said. Shaofeng nodded, marching away.
Ozai's chest heaved as he turned towards Ursa with uncertainty: it was done. The first hurdle, settling the meeting, was out of the way. Now, all that remained was making the right calls, going forward.
"It's done," Ozai said. Ursa shivered.
"I… I don't know that we should face him. But now that we must, we… well, think well on what you will say to him, first of all. If his disposition isn't optimal, Ozai, please withhold from telling him what you want to. You know how to navigate your wretched father far better than I do, but still…"
"I will keep you safe," Ozai said, stepping forward and clasping her arm. "You, and our children."
"I… I'll go fetch them," Ursa said. Ozai nodded.
"This is for their sake. They will be free from my father's shadow once he realizes just how much we have outgrown it. And I'll see to showing that to him today," he said.
Ursa nodded, with hope, with hesitation, with uncertainty. She turned around and marched to the room where she had left Zuko and Azula: Ozai, meanwhile, breathed deeply as he rehearsed his arguments in his mind. He couldn't lead with that, no, but… everything had to be calculated, precise. He couldn't afford any mistakes now. Otherwise, Ursa's warnings and predictions would become a reality…
He swallowed hard as marched to his closet, changing into his best clothes. Ursa would come do the same thing shortly. A meeting with the Fire Lord demanded as much protocol as possible, most of all when any slip-up would be guaranteed to result in catastrophic consequences.
Twenty-five minutes later, Ozai marched down the Royal Gallery with his family. Azula walked with her head held up, proudly, while Zuko appeared nervous, ever uncertain upon facing his grandfather, who seemed to hold no love for any members of their family. Ursa, perhaps, was more apprehensive than Zuko, but she schooled herself into perfect calm as they reached the curtains and the guards flanking them entered the Throne Room, to announce their arrival to the Fire Lord.
"Zuko: you will sit at my right hand," Ozai said: the boy tensed up, but he smiled upon hearing those encouraging words. "Azula, you will sit by Zuko's right."
If Azula didn't particularly approve of that seating arrangement, she didn't voice her thoughts.
"Ursa… by my left," Ozai said: Ursa eyed him with uncertainty for a brief pause, but she nodded.
"As you wish," she said, pliantly.
A moment later, the guards returned: it was time for them to enter the Throne Room.
After performing the proper reverences for Azulon, the family knelt before the flaming dais behind which sat Azulon, perched as a vulture-wasp upon his seat. Nothing gave away that he grieved over his lost grandchild: he appeared the same man he ever was, shrouded among shadows and bright lights.
"Father… we have come to share our condolences for the passing of Prince Lu Ten," Ozai said, his voice devoid of sentimentality. No reaction from Azulon. "Our family shared many meals and evenings with Iroh's son. It is a deep wound upon the very heart of the Fire Nation to lose a promising leader with his natural charisma. May his strength be reborn in the hearts of our people, and may our March of Civilization ever continue, in his honor."
The words were practiced, careful… a barb, too, at Iroh's abandonment of the siege, leaving it in less competent hands than his own – though, would they be less competent? Ozai didn't know for sure. Nevertheless, he composed himself carefully as he launched into the next stage of his presentation.
"We shall continue the Fire Nation's legacy in his honor and embody the principles Prince Lu Ten ever lived up to in his years of service to our great nation. As you may see now, my children have continued their education successfully, in hopes of one day following their cousin's footsteps and bring forth great victories for our nation when they're ready. As it is, Azula shows much promise, scoring nothing but top grades during her first year in the Royal Academy for Girls…"
Ozai didn't glance at her, but he could guess his daughter smiled proudly upon hearing his praise. Zuko, instead, fidgeted next to him. Ozai's eyebrow twitched.
"Whereas Zuko continues his education with private tutors," he added. "Both are well on their way to growing into the dignified prince and princess that will suit our great nation. Azula, in particular, quite impressed me a few days ago by reciting all known Fire Lords, all the way to the dawn of our nation. Do show your grandfather what you have learned, Azula."
If his request caught the girl off-guard, she didn't show it: without losing a beat, the child, barely seven years of age, recited the names, the birth and death years of each Fire Lord, as well as the period of time they had ruled. Azulon scowled as she talked, but he said nothing as the girl finished her lengthy explanation. Zuko, beside her, appeared flabbergasted by the ease upon which Azula could answer her father's every question… for that wasn't the last one, either.
He was given chances to respond: Zuko failed to do it properly at every opportunity. At the very end, after Azula explained Sozin's successful strategy in the battle of Han Tui, matters took an even worse turn for the boy when Ozai asked Azula to demonstrate the latest firebending moves she had learned.
Her performance was splendid, but nothing pleased Ozai quite as much as the final move, a menacing, defiant kick that melded his daughter's flames into the curtain of fire that kept Azulon apart from their family. Without even knowing it, Azula demonstrated the ability, the potential, to challenge her own grandfather… and Ozai saw to acknowledging as much:
"She is a true prodigy… like her grandfather, for whom she was named."
A dangerous statement to make, and yet one Azulon had never known how to dismiss. The man said nothing this time, too.
"I'd like to demonstrate what I've been learning!"
Ozai's proud smile twisted downwards: he glanced at Zuko off the corner of his eyes after the boy rose to his feet. This was uncalled for… Ursa tensed up beside Ozai. The fool would ruin this entire matter by trying and failing to keep up with his sister…
Ozai cursed inwardly as Zuko's attempt at impressing his grandfather with firebending proved so poor that Ursa had to rush in, collecting him after he fell, for the second time, upon trying a move he wasn't anywhere close to mastering.
"I failed…" Zuko said: Ozai's fists clenched.
"No. I loved watching you," Ursa said. If Azulon hadn't sat right where he did, eyes upon the sorry spectacle Zuko had put on just now, Ozai would have rolled his eyes at Ursa's perpetual coddling of the boy. Curse him… if his failure had cost him all the progress he had made through Azula's far more competent displays, Ozai would ensure to ground Zuko for a decade. "That's who you are, Zuko: someone who keeps fighting, even though it's hard."
The words Ursa spoke were not meant for Ozai… but he took them as though they were, nonetheless: that was who he was, just as well. He leveled his gaze up at Azulon, defiantly so: nothing was quite as insurmountable as the mountain his father fashioned himself as. Defeating him was hard… but it would not be impossible. Today would prove as much. Today, he would finally…
"Prince Ozai: why are you wasting my time with this pomp?"
Ozai withheld the snarl that nearly slipped past his features. Finally, his father spoke… all be it to dismiss what he had witnessed across the past ten minutes, of course.
"Just tell me what you want! Everyone else, go!" Azulon commanded.
His hands now had been drawn together, fingers interlinked, as he watched Ozai with the menacing stare of a ravenous beast. He had shown no reaction to Azula's great feats… but he had taken up that position when Zuko's performance had begun. Ozai had noticed as much.
He knew Azula wouldn't be the flaw to exploit, but Zuko was. The first mistake, the first mishap… and that was enough for Azulon to take advantage of it, dismissing the family, calling everything a waste of time.
Nevertheless, nobody would be so foolish as to contest the Fire Lord's orders: Ursa led the children out, and Ozai was left alone in the Throne Room, with his unyielding father.
Ozai drew in a deep breath. He composed himself, deciding to be as blunt as Azulon had asked him to be.
"Father, you must have realized, as I have, that with Lu Ten gone, Iroh's bloodline has ended. After his son's death, my brother abandoned the siege of Ba Sing Se, and who knows when he will return home?" Ozai said: he pushed himself to his feet then, making himself look larger than before. "But I am here, Father, and my children are alive."
"Say what it is you want!" Azulon exclaimed: Ozai's heart pounded. Azulon knew exactly what he wanted. Why was he so adamant about making him spell it out?
He wanted there to be no doubt left, did he? Very well… so be it.
"Father: revoke Iroh's birthright. I am your humble servant, here to serve you and our nation. Use me…"
His direct petition, spoken thoroughly at last, was cut off by his father's angry voice: he leaned forward, with an accusatory finger, akin to a claw, pointed at Ozai.
"You dare suggest I betray Iroh, my firstborn, directly after the demise of his only beloved son?!"
Firstborn. As usual, the wretched word that burned upon Ozai's very soul as molten steel: Azulon never failed to bring that up. Ozai's blood curdled over it… just as it did over the volatile reaction his father was only starting to display. Unsurprising, and yet, even Azulon had to listen to reason. He would realize…
"I think Iroh has suffered enough," Azulon said, his voice softer upon speaking of his first son. "But you? Your punishment has scarcely begun!"
Azulon's rage saw the fire in the Throne Room flaring dangerously. Ozai stepped back as sparks threatened to spill over his body…
A whip of fire, nonetheless, struck across his chest, violently, burning the fabric of his clothes, forcing him to step further back for self-defense's sake.
His father glared at him defiantly: this was but the start, then. He meant to beat Ozai, to teach him a lesson through violence? Ozai scowled, knowing he was certainly more than competent enough to take his father on in a fight…
That was when Imperial Guards stepped forward. Ozai's certainty shook, and his gaze lost its determination. He believed he could fight his father evenly… but he didn't trust that he would be able to triumph in an uphill battle. There were several guards within the Throne Room, and if he had to defeat them all… direct duels were one thing. Fighting with all odds against him seemed to be the worst possible outcome for him…
But Azulon, to his surprise, raised a hand to stop the guards.
"We can do this the easy way… or the hard way, Prince Ozai," Azulon said. Ozai scowled. "Your thoughtless words, your carelessness… it's quite clear to me, as it would be to anyone who heard your shamelessness today, that you are as immature and unworthy of the throne you seek today as you were upon first being born! You know nothing of life, of sacrifices, of true pain! But I… I can very well teach you all the suffering you have been quite fortunate to escape from. Born too young to understand the pain of your mother's death… born too jealous to care when your brother's own wife passed away, and now, greedy enough to demand for a throne as soon as your nephew draws his last breath! Are there no lows to which you would not sink? Is there no boundary to your self-serving shamelessness?!"
"Father: I could defy Iroh in an Agni Kai. It has been done before…!" Ozai exclaimed.
"Ha!" Azulon scoffed, with no humor whatsoever. "I would not stand for it! Your brother, I said, has been through enough to deal with your deceptiveness, your callous chase for success and glory that you have done nothing to earn! You only prove you deserve to face the same fate he has!"
Ozai frowned: the same fate? Was he going to replace Iroh in Ba Sing Se?
It was a foreboding notion, he had never commanded a military incursion before, but… success would prove him the better son indeed. If he was to take his brother's place, then…
"Your punishment shall fit your crime," Azulon declared, and there was a burst of madness, of cruelty, in his wide eyes as he spoke to his son: "You must know the pain of losing a firstborn son by sacrificing your own."
The words sank in slowly. Ozai didn't move. His lips parted, and he took a step back.
"My… my own? My own children?" he asked. Azulon scoffed.
"The boy," he said.
Perhaps Ozai should have known then that he was not so different from his own father upon feeling relief to hear it was Zuko, rather than Azula, who would pay the price for his misdemeanor. He didn't process the thought, however: he simply scrutinized his father, waiting for further explanations.
"Why?" Ozai asked. "He… he's the sole male left among your grandchildren. Surely you do not mean…!"
"His death… will ensure that you stand on equal grounds with your brother!" Azulon scoffed. Ozai's eyes widened. "No firstborn male… no advantages for you to inherit the throne. No more chances to play the opportunistic leech, you dastardly excuse for a prince!"
"I have a daughter," Ozai declared, firmly. "If you wish me to sacrifice my son, my daughter's still…"
Azulon scoffed. Then, he laughed, throwing his head back. It was a rather awkward sight, with his hump making the old man's display seem far too unnatural to be anything but an act to ridicule his son.
"Your daughter?" he finally said, with dishonest mirth still. "And what makes you think she counts for anything?"
"You just witnessed her talents!" Ozai snapped. "Everything you demanded of me as a child, she can do it while being many years younger than I was when I failed you over mere technicalities! As for her firebending prowess, she far outdoes Lu Ten at her age, outdoes me, her uncle, I'd dare say even you!"
"You know nothing of what you speak of!" Azulon snapped, his alleged amusement gone now. "And that child of yours… that little weasel you're so proud of, through whom you insulted me by using my name for a daughter, no less! The second-born, too! Oh… she has the same odds of taking this Throne as a mongrel crawling in the streets of Ba Sing Se would! She will never take the five-pronged crown, Ozai! And neither… neither will you."
Ozai shivered: it made no sense. His father made no sense. If he wanted to uphold a legacy, if he wanted to see the Hundred Year War carried to the end… how could he dismiss his own family members, his own grandchildren, in this way? More so upon having lost the eldest of the three…
"Father, I beg you…" Ozai said. Azulon shook his head.
"Grovel all you care to, you pathetic whelp. By morning… I want you to bring that boy's corpse to the Temple. I want his remains burned. I want to make certain… that you are the loyal son you always claim to be. Aren't you, Ozai? You will follow my orders. You will do as I command. You will kill your son. Won't you?"
Ozai wanted to scream: of course he wouldn't. Of course he couldn't. Yes, better that it was Zuko than Azula, but… no. Zuko still represented a valuable asset for him. Until Ozai was in power, until the throne was his, Zuko was the main reason why anyone would acknowledge Ozai as a potential Fire Lord over Iroh… Azula wasn't enough as she was. But she would be, once the throne belonged to Ozai, once he changed things, once he had the final say…
But if he killed Zuko now, his aspirations would be gone. His hopes meaningless. His belief that one day he would be acknowledged… gone up in smoke with every ambition he had ever held.
"Why…?" Ozai started, looking at Azulon in confusion. "Why did you let me marry her?"
"What?" Azulon scowled.
"I married her and… and we've had children. One of whom is extraordinary," Ozai said, shivering. "You… you knew there was a chance that the joined bloodlines of Roku and Sozin would have this outcome. Why did you allow it? If you never wanted me to think, to hope, that I could amount to something in your eyes…"
"You forget, whelp…" Azulon snarled, "… that from the moment that woman's existence was made apparent to me, I hoped for nothing but the failure of your potential marriage, well before it even happened. The girl is another proof of failure, for she is but a girl… the boy? The living embodiment of everything you've ever proven to be, Ozai: even at your best, you're still worthless."
The blow should not have hurt so badly. It shouldn't have affected him as it did. He wanted to scream, to attack his father, to die under the flames of his multiple guards if need be…
He wanted to cry. To hold his wife and cry.
He wished Zuko had never been a bender.
He wished their family could have been demoted to a noble branch, fated to oblivion.
He wished he could be anything but the scapegoat through which his father expunged his worst bouts of rage and fury.
"The boy's corpse. By dawn. I will be waiting at the Temple," Azulon snarled. "Fail to deliver… and it may just be the two children, instead. Attempt to flee, and your wife may just join them in their pyre, too."
His heart froze: not them. If he had to sacrifice anyone… never Azula. Never Ursa.
"I… I will deliver," Ozai said, trembling: he dropped on his knees. "I… tomorrow. I will. I…"
He didn't know how he had managed to utter the words at all. The very notion of killing his son was so foreign, so impossible to fathom… he couldn't do it. He didn't want to do it. He shivered…
Better to lose Zuko alone than to lose his entire family.
"Begone, then, Prince Ozai. And be grateful… that I didn't reward your insolence with the removal of your title," Azulon snapped. Ozai glowered at him. "For what you have done certainly would have deserved that kind of punishment. But perhaps… I am being merciful today. You have Lu Ten's death to thank for that."
Merciful? This was mercy? Ozai pushed himself to his feet again, trembling in place…
He bowed his head. He didn't perform a proper reverence this time. He stomped his way out of the Throne Room: none of the guards stopped him. He had been told to leave, after all… and so, he did exactly that.
His feet carried him through the corridor that emerged directly into the Gallery: his head was spinning. He couldn't do this. He had to do it. He didn't know how. He had to figure out a way. But he…
How the blazes was he going to tell Ursa that he had agreed to kill their son?
He wanted to throw up. He wanted to scream. What kind of father could ever make that demand of his own son? How could this ever appear reasonable to Azulon? It was self-defeating, it was illogical, it was…!
Ozai stopped walking: he raised his gaze slowly, taking in that turtle, with clouds rising from its shell, up to the long, smooth robes of Fire Lord Azulon, as he had been depicted in his royal portrait. A blood-red sash rested on both his wrists, and twin flames stood upon his hands. He had been told, once, that the two flames represented him and his brother, Azulon's two brilliant blazes… now, he called that interpretation folly. Were it up to Azulon, there would have only ever been one son, and it wasn't Ozai. Nothing Iroh did, not a single mistake the wretch made, could ever convince Azulon that Ozai was the better choice, not when it came to anything…
He wanted to scream. He didn't dare, not with the guards nearby. He wanted to set that portrait on fire.
His own portrait would never take its place. Nothing he could do would ever be enough for Fire Lord Azulon.
All he could do to sate the bastard, and it would not suffice regardless, was the unthinkable crime of snuffing the light out of Zuko's eyes with his own hands.
It was curious, how times changed. How the years could make such blood-curdling horrors seem so insignificant now, in the face of bigger, darker, more terrifying ones.
Where almost twenty years ago he had found the notion of killing his own son so daunting… today, he didn't even flinch upon knowing that Zuko was bound to come to him shortly, swords in tow, ready to kill him.
Today, Ozai didn't think he'd hesitate or await anyone else's clever plans to bail him out of the dreaded undertaking… for he didn't dread it anymore. Zuko had failed him enough times to ensure that Ozai would be ready to kill him when the time came. As appeared to be the case now.
The portrait he had wanted to burn had merely been moved: it stood beside his own now. Ozai had been portrayed with dark flames upon his hands, the advancement and industrialization of his nation depicted by the platforms of flowers upon which he stood. His portrait was ornate, showing him as the heir to the greatness he had lived up to, the legacies of his forefathers… even his own father, no matter how deeply he had despised him.
Instead of looking up at his own picture, Ozai stood underneath the one that depicted his father. His hatred for Azulon had never decreased, not even slightly, after all this time. So much as standing near his painting filled Ozai with violent rage… but he could quell it this time. Azulon couldn't hurt him anymore. He couldn't threaten those he cared for. He couldn't force Ozai to do terrible things he had never wanted to do. Ozai had seen to that.
And yet… without being forced by his father's hand, it seemed his desired outcome was to pass, after all. Ozai breathed deeply, shaking his head dismissively.
"To think you asked this of me… it seemed the very worst command and punishment out of the countless you forced upon me," Ozai said. "And now… I sit back and wait for my son to arrive, so that I may kill him before he kills me. You must be rather proud of your grandson… surely you would have sided with the White Lotus if you still lived, not out of any shared beliefs, but merely… to spite me."
Ozai smiled slightly, without true amusement, much as his father often would. If there was an afterlife, and his father was being tormented thoroughly in it, it wouldn't be long before Ozai joined him there, he supposed. But he certainly hoped Azulon suffered great punishments in a nightmare of an afterlife indeed… so that he might not have a chance to watch as Ozai gradually became his heir in just about every way that mattered.
He could see now that he hadn't broken the man's legacy in the slightest. He had imprisoned a dragon, threatening to kill it, much as Azulon had done the same to countless creatures, even rewarding those who would slay them. He had devastated his daughter, hurting her countless times, enough that she might just despise him forevermore, should she live any longer than he did… just as Azulon had earned his utter hatred. He had lost his wife, and he had never been able to find her anew. He had guided the Fire Nation onto a war path, proudly seeking to make the most of Sozin's Comet, of every opportunity that arose afterwards… only to wind up becoming the Fire Lord who would lose the Hundred Year War.
"Perhaps you were right about me," Ozai acknowledged, his voice quiet. "Perhaps… I was always as worthless as you believed me to be. But… the more I think on it, the more I realize just how alike we were. Perhaps… you saw only your failures in me because it was easier that way. Recognizing them in yourself… that would have been too much agony for an ego far more fragile than my own, I suppose. You… you had to be perfect, didn't you, Father? And look where that brought you… where it brought me, too."
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply… he had to go inside the Throne Room now. He meant to wait there. But before that…
"She is… this nation's only hope. The one you likened to a mongrel from Ba Sing Se," Ozai said, bitterly, glaring at his father's portrait anew. "The girl you dismissed… the one you called an offense against you. My daughter… my child. She is more than you ever could have believed yourself to be. More than Lu Ten, Zuko, Iroh and I combined. She embodies the greatest potential of this nation in ways… in ways nobody ever did before her, and nobody will afterwards, either. She… she is my daughter. And she has outgrown you by so much that your name is but a footnote, if even that, in the wake of her greatness. If you can see us from wherever you may be… watch and stem in your endless rage, Father, as my daughter proves to be the worthiest member to ever be born to the Royal Family. The greatest prodigy… the greatest leader. Indeed, she might never become Fire Lord because of my mistakes… but if she ever had been, you can be certain that no one would so much as remember that there ever was a Fire Lord Azulon: they would only speak the name of Fire Lord Azula."
A final, spiteful glare, and Ozai turned his back on that portrait: the Throne Room he had escaped from, when he had been at the very ends of a rope so many years ago, awaited him now. Once again, he was backed into a corner… this time, one of his own making, different from the one his father had built for him long ago. This time, the enemy that came for him, be it the Avatar, his son, or the Gladiator himself… he had earned their rage, their hatred, their need for revenge. He would make them fight for it, of course he would… but they would be far worthier adversaries than his father ever was. If he was to die to any of them, he would not go down without a fight. And once he drew his final breath…
Once he was gone from this world, everything else would go up in flames with his death anyway. Including the Royal Gallery. Fire Lord Azulon's portrait.
He breathed deeply one last time as he climbed the dais. He cast the sparks that burned the barrier before his throne, upon which he took his seat. He straightened his back, hands resting upon his lap.
Rows and rows of soldiers filled the Throne Room. Shaofeng's troops… the Fire Nation's proper troops, too. His personal guards, as well. He had no recollection of ever seeing the typically empty room quite so crowded. The world map that often rested upon the trapdoor was not there: instead, the trapdoor was in perfect focus, as were the curtains by the entrance. Everyone watched, waiting for the enemy's appearance.
And so, Ozai did the same: he watched, and he waited.
His final retribution would not take much longer to arrive.
Their footsteps echoed in the heavy marble. The sunset was gone. It might not be the last, in the end… but at least Azula had a chance to briefly bask in its colors today, rather than focusing entirely on organizing warfare.
Her heart clenched as she progressed towards the Palace's front gates. As much as she had a general understanding of what awaited them next, there was uncertainty in how the enemy would operate. They had to be ready for any surprises, and she would be held responsible for every single mistake, every life that was paid today as Sokka cut through the Fire Nation on his way to ultimate freedom.
The Princess expected a similar situation to what she had faced during Rhone's attack: the Palace's exterior, however, wasn't as crowded now as it had been back then. The main force that occupied it was quick to assemble, and under the command of their leader, they performed a thorough, respectful reverence towards Azula.
Her heart pounded in her chest at the sight of that uniform: it was the first time in well over a year since she had seen any members of the Enforcers, much less the entirety of the armed force she personally had overseen until her downfall.
She stopped, admiring the sight before her, Chan and Renkai at either side of her. The Third Squad's members were nearby as well, respectful, but not as much as the Enforcers proved to be.
"Rise," Azula finally said: her long-gone annoyance over reverences had shifted into gratitude, with no shortage of remorse.
Mei Xun stepped forward: her eyes met Azula's, and the tall woman offered her a kind, heartfelt smile.
"It gladdens my heart greatly to see you once again, Princess," she said. Azula offered her a painful smile of her own.
"How I wish the circumstances were different," she said. "But I'm truly relieved to know you have remained at the head of the Enforcers despite it all, Captain Mei Xun. I can imagine your journey has not been easy… but if you have trained and protected the members of the Enforcers to this day, I can only be at ease for it."
"I'm honored by those words," Mei Xun said. "And of course, greatly honored to serve you once more. These are not the duties the bulk of our forces were trained for, I'm aware… but we will serve you as best as we are able."
"I regret that you'd need to take up different duties indeed," Azula sighed, her gaze trailing over the small army before her: over two hundred women stood ahead, ready for her commands. "For now, we will focus on the protection of the Palace itself. War Minister Aonu will attempt to contain the initial tide of the enemy forces: should he fail, we will be ready to fight back. Most our troops should protect near the gates, but I would not advise for your soldiers to man the walls. The enemy has proven to be quite adept at tearing down far more dangerous and larger walls in previous battlefields."
"I've heard. Ba Sing Se…" Mei Xun said, with a sigh, and a remorseful gaze towards Azula. "I haven't wished to believe it, but… the leader of the enemy forces is indeed…?"
Azula nodded, slowly. Mei Xun's face was torn by confusion, by pain.
"Knowing what we do about slaves now, I… I cannot pretend to be surprised that one of them would choose this path," Mei Xun admitted. "I never expected it to be him, though."
"I did. Most of all… because I don't believe that anyone else would be capable of what he has achieved," Azula said, with a tight, dishonest grin. "I fear we won't have the time or opportunity to speak at length about any of this, though. What matters most is…"
"That we're prepared to face anything," Mei Xun agreed, nodding. "I will ensure to organize my troops as you determine is appropriate, Princess."
"Very well," Azula said. "It's… it's truly a relief to work with you once more. Let us begin."
Beside Azula, Chan grimaced. The slim, hidden weapon he carried should not have felt as heavy as it did. The Princess's connections, the people who cherished her… the confusing words she spoke, the motivations he couldn't understand, the choices that seemed altruistic and treacherous all at once. He had never known someone as puzzling as Azula… thus, he couldn't tell, not yet, what the right course of action would be.
Renkai, by the Princess's other side, didn't hesitate. He, too, had been under the General's grip… but he, unlike Chan, seemed to know exactly who he was, and what he was doing. Chan couldn't help but wonder just how hard it had been for Renkai to reach that stage… for he was entirely lost right now. The hard-drilled concept of following orders urged him to fulfill the General's expectations, more so upon finding his suspicions might not be as far off-base as they appeared to be at first… but the sight of that inspiring woman, leading the forces who longed to serve her, stayed his hand. Just how much more had Azula been able to build, that he had never seen for himself? How much might she achieve in the future, if she had one, for starters? What kind of bastard would ever be ready to rob that possibility from her?
He hesitated. He knew that, if the moment came, he'd know what to do, how to act. But for now… he waited.
Just as the bulk of the Fire Nation's armed forces did. As War Minister Aonu did, organizing the defenses of the emptied bay area, preparing tanks and heavy weaponry that would keep the enemy at bay, as well as ensuring he retained a direct line of communication with the Palace from Harbor City. All barriers had been raised. All watch towers were manned and bolstered with supplies. A handful of hot-air balloons hovered in the sky – the last ones left, mainly meant to aid in coordinating troops, and occasionally attacking the enemy forces if they had a chance to do so. The population of the Capital and Harbor City had been sent underground.
Dusk sank across the world. No one knew when the enemy push would begin. Aonu felt the exhaustion over his body, but he couldn't shut his eyes. Not for one second. His heart raced so fast it felt as though his life's every remaining beat would be spent before the battle even commenced. Standing by the military leaders who listened to his orders before giving their own… it should have been a dream made reality for him, the fulfillment of all his ambitions and dreams, and yet as he waited, nervously, in the rising darkness, he feared he was in the middle of a nightmare instead.
This wasn't how he wanted to meet Renzhi again, but he knew his best friend, his gladiator, would stand before him anew sooner than later.
Zuko boarded his group's flagship, determination and fierceness plain across his scarred face. Aang and Katara would soon follow… but they fell behind briefly to bid their goodbyes to Sokka.
The fleet was ready. The time to rest, to exercise patience, had finally expired: the last battle to save the world from Fire Lord Ozai's madness would soon begin as the mantle of darkness spread, and the power of firebenders was weakened ever so slightly.
"You'll be okay?" Katara asked Sokka, as he walked up to their ship with her and Aang. The Gladiator nodded: there was no sign of placidness, of mirth, of kinder emotions across his face now. He was all drive and decisiveness, determined to begin the battle he had been waiting for ever since his campaign had begun.
"I'm ready for what's coming," Sokka said: the words struck his sister deeply, as her awareness of the peril they'd face churned upon her weary heart.
Warfare truly had proven far more devastating to her soul than Katara anticipated it would, at first. She finally understood why her father had stopped her from racing into the Fire Nation as soon as she found Aang: she never understood the world of war as deeply as she did after joining it. A part of her wanted to take a break, to cuddle up with Aang for a while, maybe a few weeks just to bask in peace, relinquishing the anguish of not knowing whether her friends or allies were safe and sound, if their strategies would work, improvising to pick up the slack whenever a sudden obstacle appeared along their path…
It would have been so much easier to stay in the South Pole. She yearned for her father and grandmother's company now, more than ever…
But she hugged her brother tightly, pressing her face to his armored shoulder, and reminded herself that this was the final stop. The last push. Success here meant the world would be free. She would have plenty of time to rest and cherish her loved ones after that.
Even so, the dangers of the future lingered in the air now. She swallowed hard as she pulled back, tears in her eyes as she gazed up at Sokka.
"I… I spent years fearing you were gone, Sokka," she said. "You've survived unthinkable, horrible things that could've destroyed you. You've overcome every damn thing the Fire Lord has tried to do to you. You… you can do it today again. I'm going out there now, but… I'm leaving and taking for granted, for a fact, that… t-that you'll live. That you'll win. That I'll see you again. That I'll never have to feel the way I did over those years again. You… you'll come back to us this time for sure, won't you?"
Sokka breathed deeply, clasping his sister's shoulder once more: his next embrace was even more heartfelt than the last.
"I love you, Katara," he said: his ominous answer, as earnest as it might be, caused his sister to tremble. "I'll do everything I can… to fix what I've broken. What everyone else has broken, too. I don't know what will happen next… but I promise I will see you on the other side, no matter what awaits us there."
Katara gritted her teeth: his words were far from reassuring, but she nodded. She had to trust him. She had to believe he'd succeed. The next time she saw him… with any luck, the world would be free. And maybe, just maybe, his own personal mission would have succeeded… for his sake, Katara certainly hoped it would. She wasn't sure how anyone would help Sokka compose himself if he was devastated upon losing Azula for good…
He wouldn't lose her. He couldn't. As wrong as her actions had been, as many mistakes as she had made… the woman Sokka believed in still had to be in there, somewhere. Katara believed in her brother… and so, she would also believe in Azula because of him.
Sokka watched her march up the ramp, into the ship where Zuko awaited. Several ships were hoisting anchors by then, and Aang sighed as he met Sokka's gaze.
"You're… you're really brave, facing this battle as you will. I think… both me and Katara would like to stand with you and help you if you need us. But… hopefully you won't," Aang said. Sokka nodded. "Not any man would be strong enough to… to give up on revenge as you have. It's for the better, I mean, revenge hurts the person seeking it even more than the one they resent, but…"
"It's not an easy choice for me," Sokka said. "But my priorities are what they always have been: I'll be the bait that will be dangled in front of their main forces. The rest of you can succeed where I won't. And if I find Azula at all… it very well might be that she will be acting as bait of her own, in her father's service. I'd be one sorry excuse for a husband if I left her waiting, now, wouldn't I?"
He didn't smile as he spoke the words. Aang shivered at the coldness he perceived in his leader's eyes.
"You're… you're sure you can face her? That you can… defeat her, if it comes to that?" Aang asked. "I hope it won't, but…"
"She most likely will make sure it does," Sokka said. Aang shivered again. "Could I actually call myself the Gladiator if I refused to fight when there's so much on the line?"
"Maybe not, but…"
"I will face her, Aang. And I will win," Sokka said, sternly. "I'm ready. I've always been ready for this. She saw to that. She built me up, strengthened me, convinced me of the potential she saw in me… and now, she will see the result of her blind faith in me. If in becoming this, I haven't become the man she wanted me to be… then perhaps she never knew me as well as she thought she did. Just as, if she backs out now, if she runs away and hides… she wouldn't be the Azula I knew, either."
Aang shuddered: finally, Sokka smiled slightly, even if with a hint of bitterness.
"Don't worry about us, Aang. You have a lot on your plate as it is," Sokka said, grasping his shoulder now. "Take care of yourself… of my sister. Of Zuko, too. You're the strongest person in this army, whether you want to accept that or not. You may not be ready to lead… but you'd better be ready to put your everything into saving those we love."
"I am. Absolutely," Aang said. Sokka nodded.
"Then you really are ready. That's what matters most," he said, patting Aang's shoulder lightly. "Go, Avatar. The time to end this war and build true balance is finally here. We won't waste it."
Aang nodded: he stepped forward, hugging Sokka tightly, and he dropped a hand upon Sokka's forearm guard as he pulled away.
"I'm glad… I'm glad you're our leader. There's no one else I'd rather have followed," Aang said, with a kind smile. "Thank you for everything, Sokka. See you… see you on the other side."
Sokka nodded: the Avatar clasped his glider, shaking it open, and he hovered in the sky briefly until he landed on the ship's deck.
The Gladiator watched the first ships set sail from the safety of the harbor in the Black Cliffs: Zuko's group took off into the night, on their way to the secret river. Sokka breathed deeply, chest heaving as more of his allies stood with him: this time, he turned his gaze to find Rui Shi by his side.
"Ready to come home, are you?" Sokka asked.
"How about you?" Rui Shi inquired. Despite himself, Sokka smiled a little.
"Might be hard to think of it that way until… until I see her again, I guess," he said. "Wasn't really the Fire Nation that became my home. It was her."
"Same for me with Song," Rui Shi said. "I've spread the word: no attacks underground this time. We will fight above it as much as possible. The civilians will go untouched."
"They better," Sokka sighed. "Won't be easy to keep so many people in check anyway… but we'll do our best."
He clapped Rui Shi's shoulder firmly: the thirty ships that comprised Zuko's fleet floated towards the south, meaning to round the Fire Nation from its southern borders until they found the secret river's entrance. The ships were small, manageable enough to navigate into the cavernous location from where they would access the Palace eventually…
But in order to ensure that Zuko's team would not be ambushed beforehand, to make certain that they would get there with as little opposition as possible, something else had to start before they arrived.
Toph waited by Appa, a hand upon his fur. She kept her eyes closed, and she jerked her head as a greeting to Sokka. He nodded upon seeing her: four more earthbenders, including Shanyuan and the Hallowed Rock, would fly with Toph and Kino to Fire Lord Azulon's wretched effigy.
"Ready?" he said.
"Was waiting for you to tell me to get going, actually," Toph smirked. "You're sending the others first, though, right?"
"I know you want to spend as little time as you can in the air, but you'll take off sooner than later anyhow," Sokka said. "I'll go tell Pakku, then. Stand ready."
"Gotcha."
Sokka's command reached the waterbending master shortly afterwards: Pakku bowed his head respectfully at the leader of the Gladiator Army before shouting his own orders at the sailors of the Northern Water Tribe's fleet. Little by little, the ships set out into the dark waters, as the night progressed further and further…
A bright light blinked in the distance. It wasn't quite so far as to be entirely impossible to discern… but distant enough that it would take time for the northern fleet to reach it.
In the meantime, Sokka boarded his own ship, followed by Azula's former guards. Little by little, the ships they had brought all the way from the Earth Kingdom, whether built by local shipwrights or poached out of the Fire Nation hands, began sailing into dark waters, far more slowly than Pakku's group.
Their strategy was simple. Not that different from Rhone's, Sokka reasoned, but this time, the secondary team would be far more ready to face pushback than Rhone's allies had been. As for the primary battlefront… Sokka had no intentions of dying a martyr. He would fight and live, if he could get away with it… He wouldn't charge into the bay with hostages, but with knowledge, strong allies and unbreakable fortitude.
The chains that comprised the Great Gates burned in the night, and the men aboard the Water Tribe ships watched them resentfully as they neared them. Pakku breathed deeply before bellowing his next command:
"Waterbenders: aim at the chains and strike!"
By then, the remaining soldiers within the watchpoint in the Great Gates noticed the enemy: their messenger hawks had already flown to report their approach, as their scouting duties had demanded… now, they readied themselves to counter an enemy they knew they couldn't best.
"We die with honor! We die for the Fire Lord!" commanded the captain, his voice shrill, aware that his life would most likely expire soon.
With that, the small ships designed for the defense of the Gates set out: armed with small bombs aboard their ships, they progressed ahead, intent on attacking the enemy forces once they were close enough… if they were ever close enough, that was. The waterbenders dragged their ships out of position, taking the ocean's water and transforming it into projectiles of ice, or long whips that were poised to strike against the enemy ships or against the gates themselves.
The Fire Nation forces appeared to think their only challenge would be stopping the waterbenders from tearing down the chains that crisscrossed between Azulon and the effigies of the dragons he had enslaved… thus, Appa's silent descent by Azulon's statue's feet went unnoticed, initially.
The statue was massive, even bigger than Ozai's in Omashu, Toph realized. She jumped off Appa's saddle, leading her earthbenders forward as a rather lackluster battle was unleashed behind them: the Fire Nation forces could do nothing in a sea fully controlled by waterbending warriors capable of overturning and tearing apart their patrol boats. Screams could be heard, the occasional blast too: the firebenders attempted to make use of their bombs to no avail, for Pakku and his forces countered every movement with potent, aimed blasts of water. Mist rose among them, as a result of clashes between fire and water: the Fire Nation defenders were at an ever-worsening disadvantage… more so when the earthbenders they had failed to account for began taking action.
"Ready?!"
Toph's question resulted in a most evident answer: all her powerful fellow earthbenders roared approvingly. She smirked.
"Tear it all down!"
A crack by Azulon's feet was soon met by another, then another. Little by little, the Fire Lord's statue lost its integrity as the earthbenders moved powerfully, striking kata upon kata to damage the very foundations of the Fire Nation's most famous defensive mechanism.
The patrol groups only seemed to notice something was amiss when the loud whirring noises of the chains, bound to Azulon and the dragons, started rattling in an unnatural manner. Their loss of focus was their damnation, of course: another burst of powerful waterbending caused the most resilient ships to take severe damage, with ice spikes tearing their hulls, or simply overrun by too much water to avoid being sunken. Where around ten patrol ships had rushed out to meet them, only two managed to escape back to the statue…
Only to stop, midway, once they realized their nation's safest defense was falling to pieces.
The cracks didn't stop at the feet. They didn't simply topple the statue in full. Instead, shards and chunks of the effigy began to crumble into the water, gradually progressing towards the arms, spread out as to hold those flaming chains.
"No… NO!" one of the Fire Nation survivors exclaimed, as Azulon's robes began to break down, his sleeves, his golden highlights…
His face shattered. His hairpiece as good as burst.
His arms were the last to break apart along with his head.
Toph roared with pride as the chains collapsed, sinking into the sea: that was her cue. The burning, oiled chains couldn't hold their own for another moment… for there was no oil at the space closest to where Azulon had held the chains, which joined at the center, their path crossing into the statue itself. Until the chain was properly torn, their ships would not be able to enter the Fire Nation waters… but Toph would remedy that quite soon.
Her allies ensured to keep the debris out of her way. None of it collapsed atop them. Appa, guided by Kino, helped by swatting away the chunks of statue that could have damaged them.
Toph stepped through the pebbles and shards of statue, kicking them unceremoniously, caring little if the soles of her feet got scratched or hurt by them before reaching the thick chain.
She grabbed the very center of that chain, warmer to the touch than was comfortable, but still easy to handle. She gripped it hard… and she screamed.
Her hands sank into the metal she turned malleable. Her bending's grip seized the chain powerfully, and she undid it with as much strength as she could muster. Little by little, the links that had seemed indestructible for years, attached to Fire Lord Azulon's effigy, fell apart, dropping deep into the sea…
Toph's scream heightened, then, she lashed out in full-blown, devious laughter, after the weakest link of the chain came undone.
She tossed either end of the chain away. Both sank deep into the water, and in doing so, the flames were muffled completely.
The world was dark anew, as night was meant to be. Toph's shoulders shook over the effort, but a wicked smile spread over her face. It had hurt, her hands had been lightly bothered by the heat that spread over the chains, even without oil… but it had been worth it. She had never felt so alive.
Thousands of eyes watched as the symbol of the Fire Nation's invulnerability fell apart. As the Fire Lord responsible for the longest stretch of the Hundred Year War faded from view, as though he had never stood there, protecting his nation, to begin with.
Sokka breathed in and out, hands gripping the railing of the ship he was riding. That was the starting point. The first stage of his plan had been fulfilled… at least, on their end. He'd have to hope that Zuko would be as successful with his own.
His ship continued steadily until it caught up to Pakku's own, slowed one. The Gladiator, his face and shape lit up by a Water Tribe lantern, bowed a respectful greeting towards the waterbending master, who nodded back in his direction.
"Lead on, General!" Pakku roared. Sokka nodded: he raised his hand, unsheathing his sword, aiming it towards the distance: the stretch between the Gates and the Capital wasn't too long. They would traverse it quite quickly.
He was on his way. His numerous promises would go fulfilled. She was waiting for him, wasn't she? He would reach her soon. Whatever might happen in consequence… what mattered was that he would see her again within the next hours. He would lead his forces as best as he was able… and he would stand before her once more, for the first time since they had been torn apart.
His voice echoed in the night, giving out a command that every ship captain, every soldier, every warrior on their side was ready to answer:
"GLADIATOR ARMY: ONWARDS!"