Chapter Text
Zuko was born in the dead of winter on the coldest night that the Fire Nation had seen in a century. His mother, shivering but dripping with sweat, held him close to her chest and begged him to cry.
It was the last time he was able to cry freely and without punishment.
His father stood in the corner, silently praying to Agni, who gazed upon him with disappointment and disgust, that their child never cried. If not to spare his wife the pain of watching him die slowly instead of all at once, then to ensure that the first of his line was strong. He hadn’t cried yet, the full moon shone bright in the sky, and the flames in the room never faltered during labor.
Ozai didn’t want to be a failure like his brother. He didn't wish to sire an heir that was weak and without the blessings of Agni. Iroh was outside the door, waiting to hear the cries of his nephew, holding his son’s hand as he asked “why isn’t the baby making noise?”
Iroh hoped Ozai didn’t have anything to do with it.
—
When Zuko was one, Ursa went into his nursery, only to scream when she pulled back the blankets and revealed a black snake. Immediately, her mind went to Ozai. That he had done something to their son, released a beast to get rid of his problem.
Upon closer inspection, Ursa discovered that the tiny snake-like creature had wings and whiskers. He had the golden underbelly that matched her son’s eyes perfectly.
It was said that Sozin’s wife was a dragon—pink as a cherry blossom, eyes warm and brown with wings that caught flame. She wasn’t aware that another dragon existed in their bloodline. Sure, sometimes Iroh’s eyes became narrower in the bright sun—like a catopus—sometimes Ozai’s teeth were a little too sharp to be human, and sometimes Azulon’s mustache grew to look like whiskers and dry skin looked a bit too much like scales to dismiss, but Ursa had never thought too hard about it until now.
She told Ozai, hoping that it would make him love the boy. How wrong she was.
—
When Zuko was five, he sparked his first flame. When Azula was two, she did the same.
Ozai hoped that Zuko would either step down as future Firelord or succumb to illness.
He did not.
Instead, he weaseled his way into a war meeting. He spoke up, a wicked smile lighting up Ozai’s face as he watched his son so blatantly disrespect a high rank general. He determined that an Agni Kai was to be fought. Zuko accepted and Ozai was the opponent.
He had finally found a solution to his little problem.
—
Zuko knelt on the concrete of the arena, forehead pressed against the floor.
“Please, father. I only had the Fire Nation’s best interests at heart! I’m sorry I spoke out of turn!” He begged, trying to dip himself lower into the bow.
He heard his father step closer, his heart pounding in time with his pace.“You will fight for your honor.” His father demanded.
Zuko tried once more, “I meant you no disrespect, I am your loyal son.”
Tears leaked outside of his eyes, wetting the concrete beneath his face. Internally, he felt his dragon scream out—cry for him to fight, that his father got what was coming to him and to unleash their rage.
“Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!” Ozai screamed at him, towering over the boy.
Zuko’s skin shifted, rippling as his dragon tried to force his way out.
“I will not fight you.”
His father raised his hand and Zuko felt his torso begin to expand, bones in his arms began to creak and his knees try to shift backwards. Zuko had never tried to fight the transformation before, he had always let it happen. He felt his teeth sharpen in his mouth, his shoulder blades parting to allow wings to grow.
Zuko thought that this was the most painful experience anyone could go through—resisting transformation.
“You will learn respect and suffering will be your teacher!”
... Zuko thought wrong.