Years later
The Royal Palace's war room was a circle of lit braziers, their flames high and disciplined, like soldiers guarding every word hanging in the air. Generals, commanders, and elite firebenders waited in silence, all eyes on the map spread out in the center. Ren stood behind Ozai, slightly to the left: not close enough to seem like a favored son, but just close enough to look like an important piece on the board. Zuko, barely a teenager, stood off to one side, rigid, trying to project dignity. Azula, eleven years old, sat perfectly straight next to her older adoptive brother, her hands folded in her lap, as if this were all just a show.
Then General Dae proposed his plan. A sacrifice of the front line. A maneuver to "gauge the enemy's reaction." Young, inexperienced men, used as bait.
Zuko couldn't hold back.
—"That's barbaric!" he yelled, stepping forward. "It's a strategy without honor!"
A murmur ran through the room. The general frowned. And Ozai, without even turning, said with a stillness that chilled you to the bone:
—"You do not speak without permission."
Ren watched Zuko with surgical precision. That outburst was perfect… too perfect not to exploit. He knew what was coming. And he knew who needed to look like the only one who still gave a damn about his little brother's life and sense of justice.
Zuko swallowed hard and dropped to his knees instantly.
—"I'm sorry, Father… I just—"
—"You have disrespected a general of the Fire Nation," Ozai cut him off. "And disrespect… is paid for."
Ren glanced at Azula. She was smiling a little. He, on the other hand, feigned alarm. He took a step forward, pure, calculated theater.
—"Father," he said with a flawless bow, "Zuko only spoke from his honor. He wasn't trying to defy you. He's just a child. I'll take the fall for him. If anyone has to be punished, it should be me, as his older brother."
Azula looked at him, surprised. The generals did too. Zuko's eyes went wide, unable to believe what he was hearing.
Ozai looked at him for the first time the entire meeting.
—"You'll take his fall?" he asked, his voice dangerous. "After you let your little brother humiliate a general in front of the entire Council?"
Ren bowed his head.
—"My duty is to teach him. If I failed, it wasn't Zuko… it was me."
A deadly silence fell over the room. Zuko felt his heart squeeze in his chest. And in that silence, Ren enjoyed—very discreetly—the effect he was having.
But Ozai didn't fall for it. The Fire Lord kept talking, calm as ever:
—"Interesting. Lately, you question my decisions more than you should, Ren. You seem to be forgetting your place. I thought you served my purposes… but more and more, I wonder if you're serving your own."
Ren held his gaze, steady and serene, as if he'd predicted every word. He knew Ozai's ego. He knew his paranoia. And he knew exactly which buttons to push.
—"My only purpose," he said, "is to serve the Fire Nation."
It was true… although "serve" really meant shaping it to his will.
Ozai didn't reply. He just passed sentence:
—"Zuko will face me in an Agni Kai."
Zuko's eyes filled with terror.
—"Against you? I… I never meant to—!"
—"The decision is made."
Ren just bowed his head, as if accepting the order. But inside, he thought: Perfect. Everything's falling into place.
The Agni Kai
Ren was kneeling beside Azula in the stands. Zuko was trembling in the center. Ozai, imposing, appeared through the curtains of fire. Ren showed no surprise. He just watched… like a scientist observing an expected reaction.
Zuko collapsed after the attack. The scar burned fresh, bright, brutal. Azula held her breath; Ren placed a hand on her shoulder, soft, reassuring.
He should thank me one day, he thought. Pain is what creates dependency.
When Zuko was dragged from the arena, Ren stood up. He didn't ask for permission. He walked over to Ozai as the generals filed out.
—"Father," he said. "Let me handle Zuko. He still… can be of use to us."
Ozai looked at him with open suspicion.
—"Useful to you, you mean. I've been watching you, Ren. The way you manipulate your siblings' emotions. The way you step in for them to win their loyalty…"
Ren didn't so much as blink. But behind his eyes, something sharpened.
—"If my actions bother you," he said calmly, "tell me what you want me to do."
Ozai stepped closer, his face a hand's breadth from Ren's.
—"What you will do is learn obedience. You will serve me when I need you… and only then. Until that day, you will stay silent and out of sight. Like the tool you are."
Ren lowered his head, the picture of humility.
Good, he thought. Perfect. Make your move. I already made mine.
Ozai ordered:
—"Guards. Take him to the dungeon. I want him isolated until further notice."
Zuko, still on a stretcher, cried out when he heard.
—"NO! He was just trying to help me! Father! You can't—!"
Azula, for the first time in years, showed pure fury.
—"Father, that's absurd. Ren has always been loyal. You can't lock him up like he's a criminal!"
But Ozai simply turned his back. The decision was final.
The guards grabbed Ren by the arms. He didn't resist. He looked at Zuko, then at Azula: one devastated, the other burning with rage. He gave them a smile that was barely there. A smile that said, Everything's going to plan.
After
When the dungeon door slammed shut behind Ren, Zuko fell to his knees, silent tears burning his throat.
—"No…" he whispered. "I can't lose him too…"
Behind him, Azula clenched her fists until they bled.
—"I will free Ren," she vowed. "Whatever it takes."
And so, in a single day, Ozai had achieved the exact opposite of what he wanted: He lost Zuko. He lost Azula. And he locked up the only son who could have served him faithfully… if he hadn't tried to control him.
Ren, in the darkness of the dungeon, closed his eyes.
Everything is moving. Zuko hates Ozai. Azula doubts him. And by the time I get out of here… neither of them will ever see him as their father again. Only as a tyrant.
He smiled. It was a perfect day.
Time waits for no one, and two years was proof of that...