Chapter 35: Fire Lord's Decree
The hall fell into a hush as Fire Lord Ozai rose from his seat, his presence commanding absolute silence. Every noble, general, and dignitary turned their full attention toward the throne, their expressions a mix of reverence and anticipation. Even the clatter of dishes ceased, leaving only the crackle of torches to fill the air.
Ozai's voice, deep and resonant, carried across the chamber with effortless authority.
"For over a century, the Fire Nation has waged a war of destiny," he began, his golden eyes sweeping over the assembled elite. "A war begun by my grandfather, Fire Lord Sozin, and carried forth by his successors. A war that I intend to see finished."
A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, fists tightening in silent fervor. Ozai allowed the moment to settle before continuing.
"But even the greatest flames must be tended by worthy hands. And so, it is with certainty that I declare—should my time in this world come to an end, the Fire Nation will have a ruler strong enough to see our victory secured."
His gaze shifted to Zuko, who sat perfectly still, his face unreadable.
"One week from today," Ozai announced, "there will be a ceremony in the capital's grand plaza. There, before the eyes of our people and the spirits themselves, Prince Zuko shall be formally named Crown Prince of the Fire Nation—my heir, and your future Fire Lord."
The declaration sent a shockwave through the hall. Azula's fingers curled around the edge of the table, her knuckles whitening. Iroh's brow lifted slightly, though his expression remained inscrutable.
Zuko, for his part, betrayed nothing. He simply inclined his head in acknowledgment, as if this had always been inevitable.
Ozai raised his goblet, the dark wine within catching the firelight like blood. "Now, a toast," he commanded, "to the return of the future of the Fire Nation."
Every guest in the hall mirrored the gesture, their glasses lifted high.
"I give you, for the first time in three years—Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation."
"Prince Zuko!" the assembly echoed, their voices thunderous.
The wine was drunk, the moment sealed.
As Ozai sat back down, the feast resumed in full force—music swelling, plates refilled, laughter and whispered schemes weaving through the smoke-laden air.
But beneath the veneer of celebration, the currents of ambition and resentment churned.
Zuko took a slow sip from his own cup, his eyes meeting Azula's over the rim.
She smiled at him, sharp and venomous.
He smiled back.
The game, after all, was far from over.
The hall buzzed with murmurs and whispers, the news of Zuko's return and impending coronation as Crown Prince sending ripples of intrigue through the gathered nobility. But Zuko paid them no mind. His attention was fixed on one person, Azula.
She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "Would you stop looking at me like that?" she snapped, her voice laced with irritation.
Zuko merely smiled, slow and deliberate. "I missed my little sister," he said, his voice dripping with false warmth. "And how you've grown these past three years."
Azula's eyes narrowed, but before she could retort, Ozai cut in.
"Indeed, Azula has grown," the Fire Lord mused, his golden eyes assessing his son. "But so have you, Zuko. You've matured. And from what I've seen, your bending has improved significantly."
Zuko inclined his head. "Uncle has been helping me along," he said, gesturing toward Iroh, who sat quietly observing the exchange.
Iroh chuckled softly. "It is not wrong to say he has become one of the most powerful firebenders around."
Azula's lips curled into a smirk. "Oh? Then why did he lose against Commander Zhao in an Agni Kai just a few days ago?"
The table fell silent. Ozai's gaze sharpened. "What is she talking about, Zuko?"
Zuko didn't react immediately. Instead, he turned his smile toward Azula, his eyes glinting with something darkly amused. He gave her a subtle nod, as if daring her to continue.
Azula, relishing the chance to undermine him, obliged. "Zuko challenged Commander Zhao to an Agni Kai because he supposedly let the Avatar escape," she explained, her voice dripping with mock concern. "And he lost. Zhao is the commander of a naval base in the southern Earth Kingdom provinces. Hardly a worthy opponent for a prince of the Fire Nation."
Ozai's expression darkened. "Is this true?"
Zuko's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "So you were keeping tabs on me, little Azuzu?"
"Stop calling me that!" Azula hissed, her composure cracking for the briefest moment.
Then, like a snuffed flame, Zuko's smile vanished. His face turned cold, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he addressed his father. "I never let the Avatar escape."
The air around the table grew heavy. Even the nearby nobles leaned in, straining to hear.
"What happened at the naval base," Zuko continued, his tone measured, "was that I didn't trust Zhao, or anyone else, to ensure the Avatar's safe transport to the Fire Nation. So I had my crew leak false information: that Prince Zuko had found the Avatar but let him slip away."
Azula's smirk faltered.
"I wanted Zhao to underestimate me," Zuko said, his voice low and deliberate. "So I challenged him to an Agni Kai. I intended to lose, my pride nearly stopped me, but in the end, Zhao proved himself a capable firebender. He defeated me with lightning."
A murmur ran through the crowd.
"Fortunately for me," Zuko continued, his lips curling into a predatory grin, "Zhao's victory only made him more arrogant. He stopped questioning whether the Avatar was still on my ship. He stopped seeing me as a threat."
The silence that followed was deafening. Even Ozai seemed momentarily taken aback.
After a long pause, the Fire Lord exhaled slowly. "I was right. You have grown."
Azula's fingers tightened around her chopsticks. This wasn't the Zuko she remembered, the hotheaded, easily manipulated boy she could toy with at will. This Zuko was calculating. Dangerous.
Then, from among the gathered generals, a voice cut through the tension. "If the Avatar disappeared a century ago... why does he still look like a child?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered.
The hall held its breath. All eyes, Ozai's piercing gold, Azula's sharp amber, the nobles' curious stares, locked onto Zuko as he leaned back in his seat, swirling his wine with deliberate calm.
"The Avatar didn't age," Zuko began, his voice cutting through the silence, "because he was never dead. He was frozen."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. Even Ozai's fingers stilled around his goblet.
"A short time before Fire Lord Sozin attacked the Air Temples," Zuko continued, "the Avatar ran away. He was just a child, scared, selfish, unwilling to bear the weight of his duty." His lip curled slightly. "He cared more about what he wanted than what the world needed against the Fire Nation."
The nobles exchanged glances. Some muttered under their breaths, coward, weakness, a failure of destiny.
Zuko ignored them. "After tracking his movements and questioning those who knew him, I learned he was caught in a storm near the South Pole. His own power saved him—encased him in ice, untouched by time." He paused, letting the weight of the revelation sink in. "He was only freed days before my arrival at the Southern Water Tribe. The rest… you know."
The murmurs crescendoed. A century in ice? The Avatar cheated death? How did the prince uncover this?
Across the hall, Aang stiffened in his chains. His wide eyes locked onto Zuko, his chest tightening. None of this, none of it, had been ripped from him or his friends in interrogation. No torture, no tricks. Zuko already knew it all and just made up the stories for them.
'He knows too much.'
Aang's fingers curled into fists. Victor's warnings came back to his mind. 'Zuko is not what he seems. Trust nothing of what he does as Zuko but think of it as a façade he has to play. The prince's mask of arrogance, his casual cruelty—it was all a performance. And this? This was proof.' He thought.
Ozai studied his son with newfound intensity. "You learned all this without breaking him?"
Zuko smirked. "The Avatar is a child, Father. Children talk. Especially to those they think are harmless." His gaze flicked to Azula, a silent challenge. 'See how deep my game goes?'
Azula's nails bit into her palms. This wasn't just strategy, it was dominance. Zuko had outplayed everyone, even their father.
The general who'd spoken earlier shook his head in disbelief. "A hundred years… and he emerges unchanged? It defies nature!"
"Yet it serves us," Ozai declared, silencing the room. "A relic of a bygone era, unearthed just in time to witness his people's extinction." His smile was a blade. "Poetic."
The nobles raised their glasses in grim agreement.
Aang didn't drink. He didn't blink. He stared at Zuko, and for the first time, he saw him, 'truly' saw him. The Victor behind Zuko.
The prince's golden eyes met his. Just for a second.
Then Zuko looked away, laughing at some noble's jest, the perfect picture of a prodigal son.
But Aang knew now.
The monster in the room was Ozai.
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