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The council meeting had gotten out of hand fairly quickly.
It started with just one snide comment, as it always did. It wasn't a particularly horrible one, either. But it was tactless, spoken off-handedly by a Fire Nation general, and just loud enough for those several seats around him to hear.
As if some dam had been broken, the other few officials who had served under Fire Lord Ozai's reign joined in. Angry words were thrown across both sides of the aisle, and so loudly that Fire Lord Zuko couldn't quite understand what anyone was saying anymore. He only knew that it wasn't anything particularly useful.
"That's enough," he snapped, rising from his seat. "How is it that I'm the youngest person in this room by at least two decades, and yet all of you are fighting like children?" He glared at everyone in the room, daring someone to respond.
After a few tense moments, one general boldly stood to meet Zuko's gaze. "You said it yourself, my lord," he sneered, clearly mocking the royal title. "How can we be expected to stay civil with a child on the throne?"
"You're a grown man, General Mao," Zuko replied, not even daring to address the 'child' comment, lest his anger grow out of control too quickly. "Is this how you would have acted in my father's war room?"
"We all know you're not half the man Fire Lord Ozai was," Mao fired back, hands tightening into fists at his sides. "You're too weak for the crown!"
Zuko could feel his heart race. His blood pounded in his ears, almost deafeningly loud in the sudden silence. Every single eye in the room flickered back and forth between the two men standing, silently assessing the standoff.
"So, we're back to the usual argument," Zuko said lowly, his voice just barely holding back the searing rage that surged through his chest. "You'd rather I be just like my father."
It wasn't a question, but Mao answered nonetheless. "Yes."
The Fire Lord nodded slowly, eyes hardening as he took a deep breath. Then: "Tell me, Mao. How do you think my father would have handled your insolence?"
"Insolence?" The old man scoffed, affronted. "I haven’t-"
"General Mao," Zuko barked, his voice impossibly loud all of a sudden, startling the general into silence. He barreled on through, not giving the man another chance to regain his wits. "I asked you a question. You have shown me great disrespect, speaking out of turn in my war room. What. Would Fire Lord. Ozai do?" he demanded, head held high.
"You don't deserve my respect," Mao spouted, face turning red with anger. "You are not my rightful Fire Lord."
And there it was. Zuko could practically feel the collective breath drawn in from most of their attentive audience.
Steeling his nerves, Zuko let the tension in his face and shoulders ease. Or, as much he could, anyway. He schooled his expression into what he hoped looked cold, but amused. Dangerous, but a little delighted, even. He could see the faint change in General Mao's face, the wariness of something so unlike Zuko coming to light.
In the most casual, most Azula voice he could manage, Zuko said simply, "I was 13 when my father set my face on fire." He took slow, measured steps around the low table, making his way around the room with a feigned nonchalance that nearly made his stomach churn. He looked around the room, as if something nostalgic had overcome him. "Just for speaking out, in this very room."
And it sickened him, truly, to play this game, but his highest-ranking officials needed to see this. They needed to see the dual nature he harboured inside of him. They needed to know that he hadn't always been a good person. That becoming the man he was today had taken so much time, and so much effort. It always would- after all, healing wasn’t a linear path. He hadn’t suddenly become whole when he joined Team Avatar. There was still a lot of pain inside, pain he had to deal with every single day. It would always be a struggle, to do the right thing, but that didn’t mean he would ever stop trying.
When he was banished, Zuko had learned to embody the traits he thought his father and sister would appreciate the most. In the weeks before he had found the Avatar, he had been his most angry, his most vicious, his most destructive.
The people before him- do they really know what they're asking for?
He stopped suddenly, eyes set on Mao like a dragon stalking its prey. "Tell me. What do you think my father would have done to me, had my words been treasonous, like yours?"
Mao just looked at him, chest rising and falling quickly with anger as he seemed to internally search for something to say.
"On the Day of Black Sun, I told my father I was leaving, to join the Avatar," Zuko continued, his deep, rasping voice sliding through the air like gravel grinding against polished stone. His mismatched eyes roamed the room for a second, lingering as if he had all the time in the world. Which he did. Then he looked at Mao. "He shot lightning at me."
"You can't even make lightning," Mao insisted, though he sounded just the slightest bit unsure of himself.
Zuko cocked his head, just like he'd seen Azula do a thousand times. "Next, you're going to tell me that my sister is the only one in my family with blue flames." Then he grinned, teeth bared in a sinister parody of his sister. One hand rose from his side, and he snapped his fingers lightly, wisps of blue dragon fire dancing over his fingertips. It was quite the bluff, but a convincing one, nonetheless.
General Mao paled considerably, eyes widening just a fraction of an inch.
"Please do, by all means, continue, General Mao," Zuko said flatly. He released his hold on the fire. "Please continue telling your Fire Lord what he can and cannot do."
He stepped closer to the man now, who instinctively took a step back, clearly unnerved by the teenager's uncharacteristic behaviour. Mao cleared his throat, opening his mouth to talk, but one of Zuko's arms shot out to grab him by the collar, tugging the man down to his height, and another hand rose to show a fist full of orange flames.
"But since you seem to just adore my family," Zuko drawled, "I'll give you a choice. Your face. Or your title."
"My what?" Mao sputtered, eyes bulging at the fire inching towards his face. Both of his hands clutched at his throat, where Zuko was practically choking him with just how tightly his collar was being pulled.
"We can match," the teen offered. "Though, we all know I'm not nearly as good a bender as my father was. I might just miss and take your eye out completely."
"Please," Mao finally said, voice low. "Please."
"That's what Fire Lord Ozai would do, of course," Zuko said, forcing a lighter tone to his voice, as if he was simply teasing the other man. "His mercy would be simply to burn you. Wait until your eye becomes infected. Have you tossed on a boat and send you sailing out of the Fire Nation before you even wake. Dead, banished- whatever it takes to get you out of his sight."
Mao had been a revered general once, but he was now old, and beyond frail. It would undoubtedly be an unfair fight- as despicable as trying to fight a child, some might say.
"So, tell me," Zuko continued, his low voice carrying easily throughout the shell-shocked room. "Would you really rather me be more like Ozai? You would rather lose an eye- maybe even your life? Or will you walk out of this council room, of your own accord, and never set foot in this palace ever again?"
"You wouldn't," Mao finally said, though he didn't seem entirely sure. "You're too much of a coward."
Zuko smiled. “I guess I am too much of a coward to fight a wizened general like you, huh?” He raised his voice sharply, so the guards would hear him clearly. “Guards. Drop by the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. I believe General Mao has a daughter in one of the higher grades, yes? About my age.”
That did it. Mao’s eyes went wide with fear as the guards stood ready for their next orders.
"Please!" he cried out, falling to his knees. "Not my Ryu… I'll do anything."
"Anything?"
"...Anything," the man whispered, brokenly.
"Leave," Fire Lord Zuko commanded, in a calm, quiet voice.
Trembling, the man sat still for a second, eyes still trained on the floor in front of him. Sensing his disgrace, however, he slowly got to his feet, and bowed.
Zuko made eye contact with one of the guards and nodded, and as a unit, the two men each took a hold of Former General Mao's arms. They led him out of the room without further incident.
Turning his head sharply to look at his other councilors, he gave them a flat, unimpressed look.
"Who's next?" he asked.
Everyone was silent, avoiding his piercing gaze as though their lives depended on it. Because maybe their lives did.
And Zuko hated to act this way, but he had made his point. Dropping character, he strode back to his place at the head of the table and took a seat.
It would have been so easy, to have turned out like his father. He would thank Agni everyday that he'd had what Azula never did- Mother, Uncle. His friends.
He glanced down at his notes, and then looked back up.
"Now. Where were we?"