A Young Princess's Guide to Usurping The Throne | Chapter 11 (Patreon)

"Do you know why I've summoned you, Zuko?" Ozai's voice dripped with irritation as his piercing gaze bore down on his son. Zuko felt himself shrink under the weight of his father's stare, his heart racing wildly as he fought to swallow the lump of anxiety lodged in his throat.

"No, father, I do not..." Zuko replied, his voice trembling with sincerity. Ozai could hardly comprehend how he had fathered such a fragile creature—weak, spineless, the boy seemed perpetually haunted by his own shadow. Ursa had done him no favors with this child, but at least she had rectified that error by bringing Azula into the world.

"Let me ask you, Zuko, what have you truly accomplished during your time here? You excelled in your studies, as I expected. I arranged for you and your sister to be tutored by the finest minds in our nation," Ozai's voice grew colder as he continued, "Yet your firebending remains mediocre, and the fault lies solely with you. Instead of honing your skills, you coddle your mother—a grown woman, cared for by a mere child."

Zuko's eyes narrowed at Ozai, a flicker of defiance igniting within him, but Ozai's smile twisted with satisfaction at this shift. "Your swordsmanship is your only redeeming quality. Master Piandao has trained you well, but is that truly all you have to offer?"

"Father, I—" Zuko began, desperation creeping into his tone.

"Quiet." The word was soft yet carried an undeniable authority. Ozai rose from his seat, looming over Zuko, his hands resting heavily on the boy's shoulders.

Zuko instinctively shivered at the touch, an uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach. "Your sister, younger, wiser, and far more talented, has achieved things I struggled with at her age. She is already well-respected in the military, despite never having set foot on a battlefield. Our men admire her. She has aided me in my endeavors, thriving in a political landscape that should be beyond a child's grasp. Though her bending may not meet my expectations, she wields it in ways never before seen."

Ozai tightened his grip on Zuko's shoulders, leaning in closer, his voice a whisper that sent chills down Zuko's spine. "All of this accomplished by a young girl, while her brother sits in a corner like a turtle duck. Such disgrace should not be rewarded... don't you agree, my son?"

Zuko clenched his teeth, and gripped his hands into a fist. Yes, it was undeniable that he was overshadowed by his sister's strength, and while he devoted himself to caring for their mother, she was out there, forging a brighter future for their nation and uplifting their people. Yet, in his heart, he felt an unbreakable bond; he could not fathom a world devoid of her presence.

Zuko's heart sank, the weight of his father's words crashing down on him like a tidal wave. He felt the sting of shame and anger rise within him, "I will do better..." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of despair and determination. "I will, father."

Ozai's gaze pierced through his son, a cruel smile creeping onto his lips as he released his grip on Zuko's shoulders. "Empty promises. I expect to see results, or I will have no choice but to assign one of our servants to care for your mother in your stead."

A low growl escaped Zuko's throat, his eyes blazing with defiance as sparks flickered at his fingertips. Ozai reveled in the moment, his smile widening. "Do not glare at me with such venom, boy. This is no one’s fault but your own. The further you lag behind, the more I am compelled to intervene. Do not test my patience any further."

Zuko's anger subsided, but doubt gnawed at him. Was it truly his fault? Was he so weak that he couldn't surpass his current self? Did his love for his mother make him vulnerable? NO! His love for her was a strength, a promise to protect her until she recovered. Yet, he felt perpetually overshadowed by Azula; every achievement of hers was a reminder of his failures. What could he do to distinguish himself, earn his father's approval, and ensure his mother's safety? Zuko swallowed hard, the lump in his throat heavy with desperation. "What must I do, Father?"

Ozai's smile twisted into something predatory. "I will host an event for the youth to demonstrate their strength. It will inspire our subjects, showing them that the future of our nation rests in capable hands. Your sister will be there, and you, Zuko, have one task to secure your place by your mother's side... win the event and defeat her. That is all you must do."

Ozai’s finger tapped against the polished surface. The current exploits of his daughter grabbed his interest more than he realized. The engineer standing before him had gone pale enough to look carved from wax. He kept glancing toward the factory doors as if expecting rescue. The surrounding workers had already been discreetly cleared away, leaving only Ozai, his guards, and the unfortunate man who had become the target of imperial displeasure.

Ozai lifted his chin. “Do you care to explain yourself?”

The engineer swallowed so hard his throat bobbed. “My prince, I—I apologize, but you are not permitted to conduct inspections of this facility without prior clearance from Princess Azula.”

For a moment, the silence that followed was more dangerous than any outburst. Ozai’s left eye twitched. The engineer seemed to notice it and immediately regretted every breath he had taken since birth.

“Have your wits deserted you entirely?” Ozai asked, each word clipped and cold. “I am her father. I am a prince of the Fire Nation. And you are telling me that I require permission from my own child to walk through a factory that stands on Fire Nation land?”

The engineer bowed so quickly he nearly lost his balance. “With respect, my prince, the facility is not under the state ministry. It belongs to Ember Industries.”

Ozai’s expression sharpened. “A company is a company. The nation rules the company.”

The engineer dared to lift his eyes only halfway. “That would be true if the company were state-run, sir. Ember Industries is privately owned by Princess Azula. She funds the operation, sets the regulations, and maintains the board. All security protocols were drafted under her authority.”

Ozai’s lip curled. “You speak as though I ought to be impressed by a child playing merchant.”

The engineer’s hands trembled, but he pressed onward, clearly understanding that retreat would not save him. “She is not playing, my prince. She has contracts, shareholding records, audits, labor protections, and inspection schedules. She is the one who pays us. She established the rules before the first furnace was lit. Only those listed on the board may enter restricted sections without her approval.”

Ozai stepped forward, and the engineer unconsciously stepped back.

“So you are refusing me entry,” Ozai said. His voice was low now, almost conversational, which only made it worse. “Because my daughter has hidden herself behind paperwork and employed enough men to believe they can tell a prince no?”

The engineer broke into a sweat. “No, my prince, never that. It is only that… the rules are very clear. Princess Azula was specific. She said that no one, not even family, may enter certain areas unannounced. Safety reasons, she said.”

Ozai let the words hang in the air. “Safety reasons.”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Are you suggesting I am unsafe?”

The engineer nearly choked. “No, of course not. I only mean that the machinery in the west wing is delicate, and the chemical process in the refinement chambers can become volatile if disturbed without proper preparation.”

Ozai regarded him for a long, unreadable moment. Then he asked, “And who taught you to speak this way?”

The engineer blinked. “My lord?”

“You did not suddenly gain this confidence by yourself. You are a factory man. A worker. Yet you stand here speaking to me about protocols and restricted chambers as though you were a minister.”

The engineer hesitated, then answered with a nervous tick, “Princess Azula did, my prince. She insisted we learn the language of the work. She said if we were trusted with machines, we had to understand them. If we were trusted with responsibility, we had to speak about it responsibly.”

Ozai’s eyes narrowed, though not from confusion. The notion was wise; clearly, he glossed over how much his daughter had absorbed within his presence.

“She taught you all that?”

“Yes, my prince. And many others.”

Ozai looked past him, into the interior of the factory. He could hear the distant thrum of mechanisms, the faint hiss of steam, the clink of metal against metal.

“Tell me,” Ozai said, “how many men here answer to you?”

The engineer looked baffled by the question. “None, my prince. I answer to the foreman, who answers to the district director, who answers to the board.”

“And who answers to my daughter?”

The engineer hesitated only a moment. “Everyone, if I am being honest.”

Ozai’s gaze flicked to him.

The engineer hurried on, words spilling out now in a fever of self-preservation. “Not in the sense of fear, my prince. In the sense of structure. Princess Azula reviews the major decisions. She approves budgets, expansions, manufacturing changes, and hiring policy. She does not stand over us every day, but she does not need to. The system is already built.”

“The system,” Ozai repeated with a thin smile. “How admirable.”

The engineer, too nervous to judge whether that was praise or condemnation, simply nodded.

Ozai walked a slow circle around him, and the engineer’s shoulders tightened visibly with every step. “And what exactly does this system produce that is so important I may not see it?”

The engineer swallowed. “Weapons, industrial tools, fuel filtration systems, alloy reinforcements, shipping mechanisms, and processing equipment, my prince. Some designs are military-adjacent. Others are civilian. The princess believes that industry should strengthen the nation at every level.”

Ozai stopped. “Military-adjacent.”

“Yes, my prince.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

The engineer’s face reddened. “I only mean that some of the equipment could be adapted for military use, though much of it is intended for commerce and infrastructure.”

Ozai gave a soft hum of acknowledgment, though it was the kind that made a man wish he had said less. Then he asked, “And she built all this by herself?”

“No, my prince.”

The answer came too quickly, and Ozai’s eyebrow arched.

The engineer rushed to correct himself. “I mean—she designed the framework. The concepts, the prototypes, the organizational structure. But she has teams for testing, refinement, implementation, and logistics. She said ideas are only valuable if they can survive contact with reality.”

“That sounds like something she would say,” Ozai murmured.

The engineer, emboldened by the fact that he had not yet been executed, nodded. “She has a way of making difficult things feel inevitable.”

Ozai looked at him sharply. “Be careful.”

The engineer froze. “My apologies.”

“You sound as though you admire her.”

He considered lying, then apparently decided that honesty was the safer path. “I do, my prince.”

“Why?”

The engineer stared, clearly aware that the answer mattered more than the question should have. Because she listens. Since she grows in knowledge. She does not waste time posing as inept; humility is not her thing. She expects perfection, thus she honors those who meet it. She brought conditions here up faster than any administrator I have ever seen. She cut out waste. Higher production. Extended instruction. She even had us rework the runoff systems so the sludge would be separated and treated instead of dumped into the river.

Ozai’s eyes narrowed again, this time with something that might almost have been grudging interest. “The runoff systems.”

“Yes, my prince.”

“So my daughter is now an engineer, a financier, and an environmentalist.”

The engineer hesitated, uncertain whether that was a trap. “She would probably object to the last title if it were phrased that way.”

At that, Ozai gave a faint, humorless exhale that might have been a laugh in a less dangerous man.

The engineer, emboldened only by his terror, continued, “She also makes sure the workers receive lessons in basic literacy and technical understanding. She says people who understand what they are doing can do it better."

Ozai regarded him in silence.

The engineer hurried to add, “It has worked, my prince. Production improved almost immediately. We lose less material now. Fewer accidents. Fewer defects. It is… remarkable.”

Ozai’s gaze drifted past him again. Then Ozai asked, “If I wanted to enter, what would happen?”

The engineer stiffened. “I would be obligated to deny access, my prince.”

“Even if I ordered you otherwise?”

The engineer’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked like a man standing at the edge of a cliff and trying not to look down. “Technically, yes, my prince.”

Ozai turned to him fully now. “Technically.”

“Yes.”

“And if I chose to make this dispute public?”

The engineer’s face blanched. “I would prefer not to imagine that, my prince.”

“Yet you do imagine it.”

“I must, sir.”

Ozai’s expression held for one long, dangerous beat. Then he asked, almost softly, “What kind of person gives a factory worker the courage to speak to a prince this way?”

The engineer’s answer came after a pause. “A very frightening one, my prince.”

That surprised Ozai enough that his mouth twitched, though the expression vanished before it could become anything resembling amusement.

Then he looked over the engineer’s shoulder into the factory once more and made his decision. “Very well.”

The engineer blinked. “My prince?”

“I said very well. I will not cause a scene here.”

Relief flooded the engineer’s face so quickly it was almost comical. He bowed deeply. “You have my sincerest gratitude, my prince.”

The engineer bowed once more, lower this time, as Ozai turned and began walking away. His guards fell into formation behind him without a word.

Ozai had never anticipated this. This degree of growth was absurd; one would need years of preparation to properly create the necessary plans to have this running smoothly. Though he should not be surprised, the girl interacted with several of his own associates, so granting access to timber and a varied range of metals. Most likely, the workforce required came from the slums and were jobless; hence, she opened another avenue in which those without education would benefit from in-employment experience. Though she stayed inside his corner the future could be uncertain, if she grew strong too quickly she may reject most of his own teachings and words. It was brilliant but dangerous. Because of his own planning, his own father also saw the girl favourably.

He might have to pay his wife a little visit; she has uses. Although he himself couldn't slack behind, being a prince was all well in good, but becoming Fire Lord might be necessary to be quickened faster than he had anticipated. He already gave Zuko the push needed to help the boy improve. He could tell the boys stability relied heavily on his mother, that could be easily used, for now he needed to have a small talk with his father.

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