The Order of the White Dragon

Chapter I

Fire Nation Capital

Prince Zuko raised his left arm horizontally, his bright amber eyes squinted in focus as he guided his arm towards his abdomen. He has redirected lightning before, not just with the Firelord watching. Of course, this was a completely different circumstance. Zuko's usual calm composure when bending was interrupted by the thundering pace of his heartbeat, fuelled by his deep thirst to prove himself to his father. His cool perspiration tickled his naked torso due to the sweltering afternoon sun. His muscles tensed as the lightning attempted to leave his control.

Big mistake.

His bicep involuntarily relaxed. The balance of his stance did not feel right, Prince Zuko lost control of his form. This allowed the lightning to climb from his abdomen up, he shook in agony. For the smallest fraction of time, Zuko's eyes widened in realisation, fear and pain. After that he squeezed them shut, it's not like he had a choice. The pain consumed him.

But it ended as soon as it started.

The bending demonstrator who formed the lighting tamed it as soon as the Prince convulsed. Both he and General Iroh ran across the training courtyard towards the Prince who was now sprawled on the cobblestoned ground. "Zuko, are you okay?" Zuko opened his eyes and chose to ignore his uncle's concerned question. The Prince lifted his head, looking past the stray hairs from his bun. He dared to look at where his father stood. It was too late, the Firelord and his attendants were already walking towards the castle entrance. Zuko could've sworn his heartbeat thumped to the sound of his father's fading footsteps. He tried so hard to please him. Yet in his sixteen years of existence, not one praise from the Firelord was directed at Zuko.

His Uncle Iroh and the bending demonstrator held his each of his arms, guiding him to stand. Humiliated, Zuko's anger boiled inside him, he snatched his arms from his two companions and stood up by himself. His frustrated amber orbs never left the door his father entered in.

"Prince Zuko, you did well." General Iroh's voice gently praised him. General Iroh actually believed what he said. Yes, it's true Zuko did not succeed in redirecting the lighting today. But he tried. And isn't that the point? Of course he knew his brother sees things a different way, he sees everything a different way. Firelord Ozai emitted wickedness in the way he acts on his diabolical views. This was why Iroh has unofficially made it his mission to steer his nephew from the same path.

"Uncle, why was he here? I only started learning this form two weeks ago! I had nothing to show!" Prince Zuko fumed. His father's presence that afternoon was unexpected. The Firelord never showed any interest in his son's firebending abilities, he already knew he had nothing against Azula.

"Maybe he just wanted to see how you were going with your technique?" Iroh suggested. This time, he himself did not believe what he suggested.

Zuko's handsome features formed his signature scowl. "Yeah right. He just wanted to see me fail. Azula's mastered this form two years ago." Zuko really didn't understand why his father had the need to watch him perform today. Did he only want to see him humiliate himself once again? Zuko knew his father never did anything without any purpose. This made him nervous. There was suddenly a bitter taste in his mouth. The taste of fear. What was his father planning?

"It's not good comparing yourself to your sister. It is true she has advanced fairly quickly. But Prince Zuko, you two are two different people. Two different people destined for two different paths in life." Zuko tuned out his uncle and his inspirational talks. As much as he appreciated his uncle supporting him at every turn, Zuko really can't decipher most of the 'wisdom' that his uncle tries to contribute to the situation.

***

Behind the wall of fire, Firelord Ozai sat on his throne as a messenger travelled from the throne room door to the front where the Firelord is seated. Many servants would agree that the throne room is the most spine-chilling place in the palace. The nature of the Firelord's sour mood always matched the aesthetic of the throne room. It was almost like it was made for him.