Work Text:
Piandao knew Ozai was not a good father. He knew it with all his body, and strove to be a surrogate for his beloved student.
Piandao knew this. He saw the emotional scars the boy revealed with every word, clumsy and nervous in childish innocence, crushed hard under the grip of rejection.
But it was one thing to know that Ozai was not a good father, and guide the child towards something better, and an entirely other to see the marks left by the man.
Small burns and bruises the boy seemed to think was normal.
It could not go on.
And so, the night of Prince Zuko's 12th birthday, Piandao made his move.
The man in question was asleep, the guards knocked out.
Pitiful excuse for security.
Nobody would blame Piandao. He made this appear the work of a novice.
He was that much of an expert to know he wouldn't be a suspect.
After all, he was not in the capital. He'd sent a present and apology ahead of time, citing illness as his excuse for absence.
He looked down upon the sleeping Fire Lord, and was struck with the realization that truly, the Fire Lord was only a man.
The people waited for an Avatar to arrive, to smite the great evil that was this man, but he was just that.
A man.
A man who slept, who ate, who breathed.
A man of noble standing.
A man with a fancy hairpiece.
A man who didn't understand the blade, only bending.
A man who could bleed.
The deed was quick, and Ozai awoke to pain and gurgling.
Piandao stared down at the man as he bled, describing the brilliance of his son and the crimes against the world he had perpetuated.
He watched the scowl turn to a silenced yowl as he did away with his hands and feet.
A moment passed, and Fire Lord Ozai was dead.
Piandao wrote a note in a style that mocked Ozai's handwriting, and slipped away into the night.
'A man who dishonors the Nation with his brutality cannot lead us. A man who dishonors his family by never returning cannot lead us, not truly. The child is best suited for the crown, too heavy for his young shoulders. This war must end, we've done enough. Let the death of a cruel man, to nation and family alike, be the start to the healing of a broken world,'