Gentle light filtered in through the open curtains in Ozai's private study, illuminating the scroll he was currently reading. When Ozai had made it clear to his father that he wanted more responsibility, the Firelord was hesitant. He knew Ozai desired war. The Firelord did not trust Ozai in the slightest with tasks of any importance, despite his age. Ozai was twenty-two, broad of shoulder, and sharp of mind. And yet, he would likely never see war. Azulon had only two sons, and as Iroh was the first born he was the only one who was allowed to go to war. Ozai had to stay behind in case his older brother died on the battlefield - otherwise no one would be groomed to take the throne.

Because of this, Azulon never considered Ozai to hold any real importance. He was a backup, someone of little consideration in his life because Iroh was strong and would not fail. He trusted in his older son to conquer and return home with great news - to make him proud through warfare. His second son would never see battle, and when Iroh ascended the throne, he would be utterly useless. He made this quite clear to his second born whenever he pestered him with hope of glory. Ozai would never have glory, he said, he was only a means to an end. He was frivolous royalty, stagnant in his position.

Ozai despised this fact. He was caught in a stasis between his younger years - of being told to stay quiet and not to voice his thoughts - and his adulthood - an empty period of his life. It seemed as if all he was destined to do in life was sit and wait for the death of his brother, something Ozai really came to understand in his teenage years. Azulon saw this in his son as he aged. Ozai's youthful naivete and excitement for life withered away and as he neared adulthood he was almost unrecognizable from his childhood self. Gone was the incessant questioning and pestering of his youth. As he grew taller he grew quieter, more pensive. As his voice became deeper it also became more elegant and refined, and the silver tongue of a politician grew where a child's used to be. Gone were his childhood friends. Oddly Azulon noticed they never came around anymore. Ozai was always alone when he called on him, deep in study or firebending training. It took Azulon off guard, although he wouldn't admit it, to see his son change so much. There was a dark aura around him that was never there before, and the boy's intelligence became clear as he aged.

It almost made Azulon proud to see his second born mold into something worthwhile. He was a gifted bender, after all, and he excelled in all his studies. By the time he was sixteen he had outgrown all his academic tutors, and he taught himself eagerly and regularly. When his father spoke Ozai no longer looked at him with awe and amazement, eager to be seen, but rather with a solemn consideration that spoke nothing of a child's wonder. Ozai's golden eyes, so much like his own, now became lidded and narrow. He was wide-eyed no longer.

At the dinner table, the only time Azulon ever regularly spent with his son, Ozai was reserved and solemn. When Azulon caught his son's gaze it burned. Burned with something Azulon had never seen before. There was a fierce intelligence in Ozai's gaze, just as in Iroh's, but Ozai's was entirely different. For years Azulon had never given a second thought to this second child, finding it a worthless pursuit to care for a purposeless child. Now that Ozai was a young adult Azulon was beginning to wonder if neglect had been the right choice for Ozai. He wanted to make his son more thoughtful, which he had succeeded in, as Ozai barely ever spoke on his own anymore, but the rest of the changes he was seeing were somewhat startling, and Azulon did begin to take notice in his as he aged.

If Azulon questioned Ozai about the war, he could always answer. Ozai read every intelligence report he could get his hands on, and he often questioned war generals and politicians in private to gain inside information. If Azulon asked Ozai about his firebending progress he would show him, and his forms were exact and imaginative. If Ozai asked about anything else, however, it was like he was talking to a stranger.

If Azulon used to ask Ozai about Iroh, he would become interested and obviously jealous. He loved his brother and he wanted to be him. More often than not Ozai was the one asking questions in his youth, eager to know where Iroh was and what he was doing. Azulon would shoot down these questions quickly and scold Ozai not to bother him.

Now, Ozai never asked. As a kind of test of Ozai's new resolve, Azulon would bring him up with him. He would dig into Ozai's sores, clawing right at what would hurt him the most.

"What do you think of your brother's conquests, Ozai? His accomplishments are the stuff of legend." Where Ozai used to look up at Azulon with wide eyes, envy and competition clear on his bright face, he now turned only slightly towards his father, his gaze calm and solemn as ever.

"Indeed, father," Was his reply, cold and austere. His gaze was as it always was now, dark and calculating, although just aloof enough to seem like a politician and not a murderer. And for a moment Azulon felt as if he was staring in a mirror, if only he was some thirty or so years younger.

Azulon stared at his son's face for a few moments, upset that he could not summon any reaction in him anymore. He wanted to look down at his youngest son, only now he did not look down, as Ozai was the same height as him now. He was broad of shoulder, too. His dark, shiny hair fell like silk around him. His crimson robes were crisp and immaculate, draping over his powerful frame. When Azulon stared into his son's gaze he couldn't read anything at all off him. Not anger, nor sadness. All he could detect in him was some hint of deeper intelligence, some aura of calculation and… emptiness. In truth he did not recognize Ozai any longer. Everything about his former self was gone. Now his son was not a hindrance but rather an accessory. Mostly worthless but yet brilliant and talented nonetheless.

However, Azulon was smart. Smarter even than his prodigal sons. Where Iroh was sometimes blinded by familial affection Azulon was not. He knew that with this new change came other consequences. What good would come from Ozai's reserve, or his intellect? There was simply no use for him. Azulon wondered, briefly, if his son had some ulterior motive in his actions, some sort of plan hidden from view. He would put it to the test, he decided.

There was a knock on the door. Ozai rose from his desk and went to answer it, silken robes flowing behind. He was taken off guard slightly to see his father standing at the entrance to his chambers. The firelord never visited him there, never. If Azulon ever took time away from governing, which he rarely did, it was almost always to see his eldest son - his favorite.

"I would like you to join Iroh and me for dinner tonight," Azulon said, his voice calm. Ozai showed no outward sign of shock or confusion, although he was taken aback. His father never dined with him if Iroh was around. He had claimed that Iroh and himself were discussing things that Ozai had no reason to understand; war tactics and political moves. Ozai had no idea what his father had in store. He inclined his head.

"Certainly, father. I am pleased to receive the invitation."

That was another thing Azulon noticed. Where Ozai used to try and use informal speech with him, as Iroh did, he no longer dared. Or, perhaps, he no longer wished to. Ozai had seemingly given up any hope that his father would like him. When Azulon first discovered this it made him pleased to see his son grow up and no longer care about such frivolous things as affection. But now, it seemed, along with distance came complete isolation. It was if Azulon could never truly speak to his son anymore. There was some sort of adept politician that had grown inside of him, saying things with no weight, responding with no meaning. The only emotions Ozai displayed anymore were fabricated. Azulon wanted to put that to the test.

At dinner Ozai was the perfect prince, the son his father always wanted. He listened to his brother go over the details of the war and the battles he had fought respectfully, adding little but to compliment him. Iroh was overjoyed, Ozai was a talented actor, and Azulon was furious. He did not trust this new change. He knew Ozai was trying to play him somehow. His acting was too immaculate, his speech and mannerisms to refined to be true. His son had acquired a silver tongue, and Azulon wanted to cut it off.

"What you were able to accomplish, brother, is truly amazing," Ozai lied through his teeth, his eyes kind as his looked at Iroh. Iroh, suspecting nothing, smiled in return gleefully.

"Thank you, Ozai. You are too kind," Iroh said, still smiling as he reached for more xiao long bao. Azulon narrowed his golden eyes.

"Indeed." His voice was steely and dangerous. Ozai looked over to his father, his eyes blank save for some pretend concern.

"Is something the matter, father?" Ozai asked, raising an elegant brow. Azulon wanted to take Ozai's duplicity and cut it out of him. However, his son's acting was too good for him to call him out on it, as Iroh would notice nothing. Actually, no one else would probably notice such a thing in Ozai. They would simply see him as growing up, realizing his place and being comfortable in it. Azulon was smarter than that, however. He knew Ozai would never be comfortable in his position. He hated being worthless, looked over like nothing more than the furniture. And his intelligence made him dangerous.

"What have you been doing, Ozai, while your brother conquers whole quadrants of the Earth Kingdom? What do you have to show for yourself?" Azulon's anger was evident, but he didn't care. Iroh's brows knitted together in confusion, and he looked between his father and his brother questioningly. Ozai showed only the slightest bit of concern. This seemed a random outburst of aggression on his father's part.

"Father, what's the meaning of this?" Iroh questioned, his concern evident on his face. Ozai raised a hand to still his brother's aid.

"I have been working on something, father, it is only that I haven't discussed it with you yet," Ozai explained, his voice low and calm. Azulon narrowed his gaze again.

"Oh, and what is that?" He said disbelievingly.

"I've been working on a solution to the problems our navy is having with southern watertribe guerillas. I've been drawing up plans that I believe will solve some of our problems in the south." Ozai seemed confident in his plans, and yet, not overtly so. Azulon huffed through his nose. His son could not fool him. He only wished to grab power and overshadow his brother.

"Really? I look forward to seeing your plans, Ozai! Those watertribe fighters have posed quite a problem in the past," Iroh chimed in, his joy returned.

"As do I," Azulon added, his voice dangerous, but less so than it had been. He didn't want Ozai to think he could fool him. He was old, yes, but not a fool. Iroh raised an eyebrow at his father.

"Why are you being so hostile to him, father? What has Ozai done to deserve this?" Iroh was not accusatory but rather curious. He wanted to stick up for his younger brother. Azulon suddenly realized he didn't have an answer. He calmed himself.

"Nothing," the Firelord mumbled.

At least, he thought, nothing yet.

A/N: I got a request for another chapter of this book, so here you go! Enjoy.