And of course, it didn't last.

It never could have lasted.

Iroza's memories were lacking in foreknowledge, and he was no fortune peddler, but war was war.

And war never.

Became different.

He knew enough to know that nothing good of his would last.

He struggled, smiled, and pretended.

He tried to be a brother, a son, a nephew, and a cousin.

All of them, and he wasn't particularly good at any of them.

He had more luck as a sibling, but that was also where he tried hardest.

They were kids, with the capacity to be decent people, being raised in a toxic environment.

Just a shitty situation.

He could relate, and so he could connect with them easier.

Not that it mattered.

Honestly, it sometimes felt like the universe was oonspiring to fuck over his family in particular.

Specific parts of his family, that is.

Parts that werent his father.

A lot of things just started going wrong all at once.

His cousin died before the walls of Ba Sing Se.

Then his uncle abandoned the siege in his grief, returning home a failure.

His father tried to wiggle his way into being heir, which really didn't work out until it did.

His grandfather unceremoniously kicked the bucket, his mother disappeared without explanation or investigation, and his father ascended to the throne.

All hail Fire Lord Ozai, first of his name, protector of the realm, yada yada.

This was all within a week or two.

What a hot streak of garbage.

Life was so different after that.

Life under Fire Lord Ozai was much worse than life under Prince 0zai.

If that was even possible.

Smiles and easy jokes between siblings were harder to come by.

Azula was all smirks and quips at other people's expense.

That didn't change.

But it was crueler.

Pointed.

Her quips turned into jabs, feeling out weakrnesses in others.

Exploiting them.

She always looked to their father as an example.

She wanted to be like him.

And for her, that meant every conversation was a contest.

Every genuine smile was something to be mocked.

They were still twins.

He understood her.

Sometimes he wished he didn't understand her quite as well as he did.

Zuko was better.

The best of them, as he always was.

But he retreated from Azula because of who Azula started to turn into.

And he retreated from Iroza for much the same reason.

It was disappointing.

But it was also understandable.

Azula was an ideal daughter.

Iroza was the mockery of an ideal son.

Almost satirical, if he ever put any heart into his acting.

Zuko recoiled from Ozai's vision of a model son, and Iroza refused to hold that against him.

Their father wanted a son like Ozai was to his father.

Iroza had no lost love for his grandfather.

To him, the man was just a stern face sitting on a throne.

Possessing great power and demanding respect, but he never registered the man as an actual person.

Even when they met in less formal circumstances.

He was just a face.

A cardboard cutout of a man.

Ozai wasnt just a face.

Iroza tried to treat him as just a tace, but the man was just too present.

Even when he started training Azula one on one, his subtle taunts and condemnations still found a way to reach him.

Iroza was never unaware of how little the man thought of him.

He was always around.

For better or worse.

Worse.

It was worse.

But it wasnt nearly as bad as it was for Zuko.

Zuko was a good kid, his mother's son in more ways than one, and Ozai despisedthat fact.

Iroza at least never gave the man an overt reason to punish him.

All of his rebellion was in mannerisms and hollow respect.

He went through the same motions Azula did, but they were just motions.

And anyone could tell if they looked hard enough.

Zuko wasn't as subtle in his rebellion, since he was a good kid and all that, but it was even worse.

He didn't know what kind of man his father was.

So how could he know to be subtle?

Zuko wanted his father's love and respect.

But Ozai only cared about himself.

He was a narcissist like that.

He valued Azula, true enough.

But only insofar as her talent and ruthlessness made him look like a competent father, teacher, and leader.

Even Iroza, for all that there was nothing like love or respect between them, was afforded special training and preferential treatment.

Over Zuko, that is.

Because he was competent, ruthless, and had nothing but good things to say about the war and his father.

The difference was in how genuine it was.

Azula was genuine.

Iroza was not.

Zuko was genuine, but it was in al the wrong ways.

Their father wasn't shy about choosing Azula over both of them.

And he wasn't shy about choosing Iroza over Zuko.

It was a loud, obvious signal as to what qualities the man valued in his children.

For a long while, it seemed like that was as far as it would go.

Emotional abuse.

Azula said as much, which was surprising.

Not that she would pick up on it, but that she would be so optimistic.

And it was optimism.

Zuko wasn't one for subtlety.

Not now.

Not yet.

He hadn't figured it out, so he would have to learn.

He would learn the hard way.

He would go too far, step over some line without realizing, and that would be that.

Iroza said as much, and it wasnt surprising at al.

Pessimism came easier to him, after all.

And so he wasnt shocked when Zuko stepped out of line.

The boy attended a strategy meeting and let his goodhearted naivety fly in the face of some faceless general.

Sacrificing loyal fire nation troops was bad, he said.

Super controversial.

How dare he.

Iroza rolled his eyes in his mind.

He wasn't shocked when Zuko was challenged to an Agni Kai as a result of that. Worried, sort of, but not shocked.

Zuko was kind of asking for it, honestly.

Trying to be a shounen protagonist in an environment like this?

He was past-due for a reality check.

Had get knocked around a bit, embarrassed a lot, and with any luck it would be a good learning experience for the kid.

That didn't happen of course it didn't happen.

Iroza stood in the crowd, next to his sister and his uncle and watched.

He watched as Zuko turned around, his quiet resolve immediately giving way to shock and horror.

He watched as Zuko fell to his knees, apologizing and reafirming his loyalty.

Refusing to fight.

Tears in his eyes, he looked up at their father and begged for mercy.

When Ozai closed one hand around his son's top knot and gently cupped his face with the other, Iroza watched.

The chamber was bathed in orange light, and he refused to so much as blink in the face of it.

Zuko screamed, a sound he would never allow himself to forget, and Iroza forced himself to keep watching.

His brother's body wernt limp, bare skin smacking against the stone floor as their father cast him aside and walked away.

And his gaze remained on Zuko.

He couldnt tear his eyes away.

The burn.

The smell of charred flesh in the air.

The way their father had scorched his face with so much cruelty.

Intent.

Precision.

It was disgusting, of course.

Morally abhorrent, and unforgivable.

And just.

Fascinating.