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It started out as an innocuous comment here or there. Just him speaking his mind, giving an honest opinion about the performance of his children.
There wasn’t much to comment on at the beginning, his son had yet to develop enough to have much of an opinion on and his daughter hadn’t been conceived, but there was enough for him to take notice how the boy would respond.
Zuko. He was enough of a letdown as a child that Ozai couldn’t have hid his disdain. The product of two strong lines of powerful benders and spirit-blessed blood, and the child could barely survive his own birth.
He was an enigma, showing none of the inherent signs of bending until far too late and developing peculiarities and interests unbefitting his status. His mother indulged him, letting him latch onto her and spend time doing needless whimsy.
Ozai admits to contributing to this indulgence. He had attributed his wife’s blasé treatment with their son as a byproduct of her upbringing as a peasant but didn’t see the harm in it considering he himself was reared without a mother at all. Besides, he was far too busy maintaining his position at court to spare much thought on her coddling.
He had been lenient, and now their son suffered for it. Zuko was too weak, too soft, and spent far too much time caring about useless things.
Ozai would have given up on him if he hadn’t noticed the boy’s reaction to his contempt. One blatant unimpressed look and a remark sharper than normal had the boy wilting like a weed. It was pathetic how obvious he made his reaction known but what he did after showed promise..
Zuko refused his toys during playtime and spent his waking hours learning to breathe properly and pounding a small fist in his other hand before his frustrations finally led to a spark. The boy couldn’t make a steady flame but he could make a small fire spit and sputter in his cupped hands.
It wasn’t impressive, but was leagues better than when he would spend the day pretending to be dragons or pirates or whatever nonsense he would come up with.
That was the beginning.
From then on, Ozai was careful to craft his words and attention until the boy gave him results. It was a work in progress; Ozai needed to figure out what made the boy react and how. Too casual and it would slide off the boy like water, too harsh and he would run crying to his mother. Ozai learned that he would need to soothe the ache his cutting words caused; balance the truth with lies, after one scold to many made the boy despondent before becoming upset and willful.
He nipped that petulance at the bud; but it was an art he had to hone.
Parenting was a lot similar to court, Ozai mused. He had to be persuasive at times, but ultimately in control.
It became a sort of ritual. Whether Zuko was underperforming or going beyond his expectations, Ozai would give him a measured response, either reward or scorn, that made him work harder.
Another enigma, Zuko would always do disappointingly poor or shoot past what Ozai expected of him. Nothing was predictable with the child, even when he was often more disappointing.
(But sometimes, during quieter moments, when the anger boiling under the surface of his skin was only simmering, and his inner fire wasn't burning as hot, Ozai would be sparing in his critiques and more inclined to ignore when the boy was being peculiar.
It was a weakness. A chink in his armor that he had ironed out by the time his daughter was grown enough to be regarded.)
Azula.
Ozai learned from his past mistakes and wouldn’t let them ruin her like they almost did her brother. This time around, he had perfected his process and left nothing up to chance.
She had more potential than her brother from the moment of her birth. Announcing herself to the world despite it being the busiest hour of the day and showing her prowess at bending before she could properly say her own name.
She was the perfect candidate and Ozai would see that his results would yield the perfect heir.
Ozai took a pivotal interest in her upbringing. He was present and in charge of deciding how she would be reared. Oftentimes, it would be he himself who would take time out of his day to ensure her progress continued at its exceptional rate, and he made sure she knew it.
She got none of Ursa’s coddling. She never left Ozai’s scrutiny and he never let her get away with anything. Nothing short of perfection was accepted lest the imperfections stayed to fester and sully like it had with the boy.
It took time away from his other priorities and took additional effort on his part but the results were worth it.
The girl was better, stronger, consistent like Zuko never was. Time after time, Ozai got result after result until her own maintenance was self-sufficient. She knew what he expected, she kept herself at a higher regard and worked to reach it every time.
She was almost perfect. Almost.
As seemingly flawless as she was, Ozai noticed a certain detail about her that gave reason to concern. The price for his approval was meeting his standards for both his children. If truly pleased, he would be kind, even affectionate. Unlike Zuko, his daughter seems to have grown more dependent on it as she grew. Each criticism is handled with less grace and more desperation, although they were few and far between. Such a need made a good motivator but Ozai couldn’t help but think it would become a hindrance.
It was something to think about but not now. Either that day will come or it won’t. Ozai was a man of results and if this one failed him too then he would just have to cut his losses or make do.
It’s a pity that he didn’t have any more children to raise; the next one would have been truly flawless.