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Azula sobbed and sobbed, chained and kneeling on the floor in front of the group, bursts of fire pouring from her mouth.
Aang stared down at the defeated Princess, unable to feel anything but pity for her now that she had been brought so low. And he wondered just what it must have been like, living with the man who would burn an entire kingdom to the ground without a care in the world. From what he was seeing now, even his own family wasn't spared from his wrath.
His thoughts turned to Ozai's other child. Zuko hadn't been seen for months. Not since Ba Sing Se. They'd heard of him, of course. Hiding in the Fire Nation, they'd heard the gossip on the streets. How the Fire Prince had finally returned to stand at his father's side. Every time they heard something along those lines, it had been clear to see the effect the words had on Iroh. How he'd turned away, his shoulders tense.
When Iroh had come out of nowhere, and offered to teach Aang firebending, they hadn't known what to expect. It wasn't like they hadn't met the man before. They remembered him at Zuko's side when he'd been trying to capture them, but they'd also remembered him trying to stop Zhao in the North Pole. They'd decided to give him a chance to prove himself. And prove himself he had.
But along with his Firebending skills, he'd brought along stories. Of his travels, of lessons he had learned over the years, but also of his family. Of Zuko.
From Iroh, they'd learned a whole new side of the Fire Prince that had chased them for so long. Who had haunted their nightmares. All of a sudden, he wasn't some terrifying monster. He was a teenager. Just like them.
He was a teenage boy who had been forced to grow up too fast. Who had been crushed under the heel of his own father and left spiraling in the aftermath. He was a boy who no matter how hard he'd tried to be what his father wanted him to be, could not banish those final threads of kindness in his heart.
Coming to fight Ozai after those stories, it was difficult. They knew that eventually, they would have to face Zuko as well. He'd spent months at his father's side, and not one of them knew the effect that that would have had on him. They knew that they would have to take him down.
"Where is Ozai? And your brother?" Iroh asked. It was almost terrifying, seeing him look down at his own niece with eyes that cold.
Azula's sobs stuttered in her chest as she registered what her Uncle had said. Looking up at him with red, bloodshot eyes, she gave a shattered grin.
"The Phoenix King is in the Palace." She said. "Where he belongs."
"Phoenix King." Sokka snorted in the background.
"The fleet will be leaving any minute now." Azula said. "You're too late."
"Where is Zuko?" Iroh insisted.
"ZuZu hasn't left the Fire Lord's side since he came back." She scoffed. "Father wanted to make sure he was behaving himself."
Before she'd even finished her sentence, Iroh was stalking past her, making his way towards the palace with determined footsteps. The group hurried to catch up, leaving Azula behind.
"Where are you going?" Sokka asked.
"The fleet has not left yet." Iroh said. "No matter what Azula said, if there is a chance to stop them before any destruction occurs, we must try."
"Uncle… what are we going to do about Zuko?" Toph asked hesitantly.
"If my nephew cannot see reason." Iroh's fists clenched at his sides. "You know what we must do."
Slamming through the heavy wooden doors to the throne room, their eyes finally fell on the Fire Lord.
Lounging in his throne, elaborate golden armour adorned his head and shoulders. His eyes came to rest on their group and a mocking smile spread across his face.
"Brother, how nice to see you."
Iroh didn't respond, his attention fully on the other figure in the room. To the right of Ozai's throne, stood Zuko. Even clad in the fine armour of a Fire Prince, he looked terrible. He looked thinner, dark circles lingered under his eyes, and his entire posture just screamed of exhaustion. A deep purple bruise spread across his left cheekbone, large enough it blended into his scar.
Every time they'd met him, the anger in his eyes had always been clear to see. That bright, flaming rage that exploded in battle, that lashed out at those around him. Now, those eyes held nothing.
Aang shivered, discomforted by that empty gaze. He turned his attention back towards Ozai, as the Fire Lord pushed himself up and out of his throne.
"Nothing to say to me after all these years?" He tutted. "No matter. I have someone far more interesting to converse with."
That cruel gaze turned to Aang, who straightened his spine. This was it. There was no turning back now.
"After generations of Fire Lords failed to find you, now the universe delivers you to me as an act of Providence." Ozai said.
"We don't have to fight." Aang was careful to keep his voice steady, despite the shaky fear lingering in his chest.
"Fight?" Ozai scoffed. "I am Phoenix King Ozai. And you believe you can stand against me?"
"Enough of this!" Iroh spat, finally snapping out of his trance. "Put an end to this madness, brother!"
"Madness, you say? I am merely doing what our father could not! What Sozin could only dream of doing! This world belongs to me."
"You're about to kill hundreds of thousands of people!" Katara shouted, stepping forward. "And you don't even care, do you?
"Their sacrifice in my endeavour to better this world will be honoured." Ozai said, cold and unfeeling.
"Please, listen to me." Aang begged. "You have the power to end this. To stop what you're doing."
"You're right. I have all the power in the world!" Ozai bellowed, hands engulfed in flame as he lunged towards them.
Before long, the throne room itself was burning to the ground around them. His friends were scattered across the room, and Aang didn't know what to do.
He's too powerful. He thought, mind racing as he tried to figure out his next move. Ozai threw a tongue of flame at him, and it was flung towards the ceiling as Iroh redirected it. The old man had dragged himself up from the floor, hurt, but with eyes full of rage as he glared at his brother.
"This is getting tiresome, brother." Ozai sighed. His body began to move in familiar movements and Aang's heart sank as he saw the first hints of lightning beginning to form. The centre of his back burned. Iroh was preparing to redirect the lightning and suddenly-
Suddenly Ozai stopped, his arms falling limp as he choked on a mouthful of blood. A look of surprise spread across his features, as he looked down as the blade pierced straight through him. The blade withdrew, Ozai falling to his knees, and silence fell as his attacker was revealed.
It was Zuko.
They had lost sight of him in the battle, a stupid mistake in hindsight, but they'd been so focused on Ozai that they'd forgotten about him. Now, the Fire Prince stood behind his father, blood spattered across his clothing, and dripping from his sword. And still, there was nothing in his eyes.
"You're no son of mine." Ozai choked through his own blood, hatred swimming in his eyes even as the light left them. His body slumped to the ground, still.
Katara was pulling herself up off of the floor, Suki helping Sokka up and Toph was finally dropping her suit of makeshift armour. And Iroh?
Iroh was staring at his nephew with an expression so broken that it made Aang's heart ache. The old general was no stranger to death. He hadn't earned the title Dragon of the West by doing nothing, after all. But if there was one thing he had never wanted, it was for his nephew to have to take a life as he had. And now not only had he had to do that, he'd had to take the life of his own father.
"Zuko?" Iroh's voice trembled, as he reached out to him with a shaky hand.
The Fire Prince's dead eyes flicked up to look at his Uncle, and while recognition flickered in their depths, he didn't react. Iroh took a deep breath, before slowly beginning approaching him, keeping his hands up where they could be seen.
"It's alright." He said, coming to a stop in front of him. "It's over now."
Uncle reached down, curling his hand over Zuko's on the hilt of the blade.
"You can let go now." He said, gently. Zuko's fingers slowly uncurled from the hilt until the sword clattered to the ground.
"Uncle?" Zuko's voice was thin and hoarse.
"Yes?"
"I'm tired, Uncle." Iroh laid a gentle hand on the teenager's shoulder.
"Then let us find somewhere quiet. A man needs his rest." Iroh curled a protective arm around his nephew's shoulders, and led him out of the remains of the throne room.
He didn't look back.