7:00 PM

"Is it true?" Ursa demanded, her voice low and harsh. Her father-in-law had spies everywhere, and it wouldn't do for this conversation to be overheard. "Did the Fire Lord order you to kill our son?"

Ozai continued to stare out the window of his office, scowling at the sunset, a harsh profile in the twilight. "He did," her husband said simply.

If Ursa were a bender, she could have spat fire at him. "What were you thinking?" she railed, though she kept her voice down. "How could you make demands like that? Did you really think your father would reward your insolence with anything other than cruelty?"

"You are right," Ozai agreed, as unmoved as ever. "I should have seen this coming."

"What are you going to do?" she pressed him. Ozai always had some scheme. Surely he had thought of something now, some way out of this. But he remained as still and silent as a statue. "You can't actually be considering…" she trailed off in disbelief. He couldn't...he would never...his own child…

"What do you expect me to do?" Ozai said at last, sounding strained. "The Fire Lord has spoken."

"And if he asks you to sacrifice Azula next? Or…" She placed one hand over her abdomen, where the new child had only just begun to grow. They hadn't even told anyone yet. What kind of family was this child going to be born into?

Ozai looked at her at last. "He will not," he said resolutely. "I won't make the same mistake again."

"So you will only murder one of your children, then," Ursa said coldly, "because you are too much of a coward to stand up to your father."

"Standing up to my father is what started this," Ozai reminded her, taking a step closer. He spoke in a hushed tone now as well. "It's a punishment for my insolence, as you said."

Ursa lifted her chin, staring up at him, challenging. "Then why stop now?"

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. "What do you want me to do?" he repeated in desperation. "If I don't do what he asks, he will kill the boy himself. At least this way…"

She shoved him away from her. "Don't you dare try to justify it," she snapped at him, unable to stop her voice from rising dangerously. "Those can't be the only options." This was Zuko's life they were talking about. There was nothing she wouldn't do to protect him. Ozai should feel the same, as a father.

But her husband only looked defeated, as the sun sank lower on the horizon and the light from the window grew fainter. It fueled her anger even further, to see how little courage he possessed when put to the test. It infuriated her how the Fire Lord had once again broken his spirit and emasculated him. All his life, Ozai had endured his father's manipulations. And now it was Zuko who would suffer for it.

This could not be allowed. Azulon had to be stopped. And just like that, she knew the solution.

She reached for him this time, grasping both his wrists and pulling his hands towards her, turning them so the palms faced upwards. "If you have so little concern for blood on your hands," she whispered, "don't let it be the blood of an innocent."

Ozai stared at her wide-eyed, uncomprehending, perhaps not wanting to understand. But it lasted only a moment, and then his eyes narrowed and he leaned in close to her. "That would be sacrilege," he hissed. "It's blasphemy to even suggest it."

"Don't plead piety with me now," she scolded, squeezing his wrists. Her painted nails dug into the soft flesh, ever so slightly. "What do you think the spirits would do to a man who killed his own son?"

"Nothing so terrible as what they'd do to the one who killed their anointed," Ozai replied. His hands even shook in her grasp as he said it, as if he feared the mere whispered suggestion of the deed would be enough to bring Agni's wrath down on him.

Ursa released him, and turned away in disgust. He called her name as she fled the room, but she paid him no mind.

9:00 PM

Ozai came to her later that night, as her maid was brushing out her hair. By all appearances, she was simply preparing for bed. And when her husband sent the girl away, he showed no sign that he wanted anything more than time alone with his wife. Ursa remained seated at her vanity, meeting her husband's eyes in the reflection of her mirror.

She had long ago learned that in the royal palace, appearances could be deceiving.

"I thought about what you said," Ozai began. He didn't sound apologetic. That would have been expecting too much from him. "Maybe there is another way."

"Go on," Ursa said, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm listening."

"We could lie," Ozai suggested, coming to stand close behind her. "Send the boy away, make it look like he was dead, but keep him hidden until…"

"It won't work," Ursa interrupted. She couldn't believe that was all he had come up with. "Azulon isn't stupid. He'll demand proof that Zuko is dead." She swung her legs over the vanity bench as she turned around, her silk nightgown riding up around her legs and her dark hair flowing loose down her back. Her knees brushed against his, her bare toes grazing the tips of his shoes. "The only way hiding him works is if we all run together," she explained. She had already thought this over herself. "You, me, the children - we give everything up, and we run. Will you do that?"

Ozai scowled, his eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder. He said nothing. That was answer enough. His pride would not allow it. He would sacrifice Zuko, but not that.

"I thought not," Ursa said, standing. She folded her bare arms over her chest in the narrow space between the two of them. "It is a very good thing, for Zuko's sake, that one of us is not afraid to do what is necessary."

His eyes snapped up to her face in alarm. "What do you mean by that?" he growled.

Ursa did not hesitate. She did not tremble. "If you won't stand up to your father, then I will," she declared.

"You?" Ozai scoffed. "You're not even a firebender. You would raise your hand to strike the Fire Lord himself?"

"He threatened our son," Ursa reminded him. How quickly Ozai seemed to forget. "I have fire enough in me to punish him for that." In that regard she apparently had more fire than her husband.

Ozai placed his hands on her shoulders, gently this time. "Ursa, please," he said patiently, as if trying to reason with an unruly child. "Think about what you're saying."

She sighed and reached up to caress his face. "But I have, my love," she insisted. She was no longer angry with him. It was his father's fault, all of it, even Ozai's unmanly cowardice. It was his father who would pay for what he had done, at long last. "I will do what I must."

Ozai's grip on her shoulders tightened, just slightly. He closed his eyes, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "If you do," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin, "then so will I."

11:00 PM

In the darkness, Ursa clutched the vial to her chest, and drew her cloak close around her. She could not afford to be seen, much less to drop the potent concoction she had carefully brewed. It was a recipe her mother had taught her years ago, the part of her courtly education she had sworn she was never going to use. She was no scheming poisonner.

That had been before she had children to protect.

The Fire Lord's bedchamber was large, and surprisingly cold. That was the reason she shuddered as she stepped into the room. And it was surely the child she was carrying, and nothing else, that made her feel ill. She had come too far to doubt herself now.

Cautiously, she pulled aside the bed curtains. Her father-in-law slept soundly, nothing but a frail old man without his crown and his walls of fire to protect him. How could this man be so at peace with himself, while he twisted and broke his own family? How could he demand the murder of his own grandchild, and then sleep? He was not fit to bear the flame of Agni. It was no crime, surely, what she was about to do.

She worked the stopper free from the vial, wincing at the sound it made. But the Fire Lord slept on. It was a strong potion she had brewed. A few drops in the ear would suffice, and it would look as if the old man had simply stopped breathing in his sleep.

Her hand shook, and the first drop missed its target, splashing on the side of his face instead. She froze, not daring to breathe, but he merely shifted in his sleep, and did not wake. The next drop fell steadily where it was meant to go, as did the one after that.

She stayed to watch the poison take effect. She had to be sure it was done properly. Azulon's breath grew labored, shuddered, and finally ceased. That was it.

No guards burst into the room to discover her. No lightning struck her down from the heavens. She felt no different for having killed the Fire Lord. This was the great crime of which her husband barely dared to speak? She did not regret having committed it, nor did she question the righteousness of her actions.

Her hands still shook as she fumbled to replace the stopper in the vial. She should probably dispose of it somewhere. She hadn't thought of that when she had made the poison. She hadn't planned for what would happen after Azulon was dead at all. The only thing that mattered to her was that now Zuko was safe, and their whole family would be free.

4:00 AM

Ursa had not slept after she had returned to her own room that night. She had first washed her hands - there could have been some trace of the poison there - and then laid down in bed. Strange, that her heart beat wildly now, when the deed was accomplished and there was little chance of her being found out. But she could find no rest. She curled into a ball, arms wrapped protectively around her middle. She had done what was necessary. Her family was safe.

Finally, her maids burst into the room in alarm to bring her the news: Fire Lord Azulon had been found dead.

Ursa sat up in bed. Tears of relief spilled from her eyes, against her will. Let the girls think they were tears of mourning. It was the lack of sleep, and likely the child as well, that made her so emotional, now that the ordeal was over.

Ozai entered the room unannounced, took one look at her state of hysterics, and dismissed the servants. Ursa wiped her eyes furiously, trying to regain some composure.

"I almost didn't believe it," Ozai said calmly, standing at the foot of her bed. "Even when they told me he was dead, I thought it might be a coincidence. He was very old, after all. I wasn't sure you would really do it."

Ursa gripped the bedcovers in both hands. There was no use pretending in front of her husband. "You should never have doubted me." She felt the tears threatening to return, and fought them back with great effort. "I told you I would do what I had to."

"So you did," Ozai replied, folding his arms behind his back. He came no closer, offered her not the slightest show of comfort or gratitude. "And I told you I would do the same."

He had, and she had dismissed his words, her mind too full of plots for Azulon's death to consider his meaning. Now she began to fear that had been a mistake. Ozai always did have some scheme of his own. "What is it that you must do?" she asked warily.

Ozai sighed. "You have committed a great crime, Ursa. The new Fire Lord can not overlook the murder of his predecessor."

Ursa fixed her husband with the most resolute stare she could manage. "You are not going to tell Iroh about this," she stated matter-of-factly. It was not an order - she could not give him orders - but she willed it to be true, and knew Ozai would indeed keep silence.

"No, I will not," Ozai agreed. He raised his chin, as if to defy her nonetheless. "But my brother is not the Fire Lord. It seems my father altered the succession in my favor after all." His eyes dared her to challenge this pronouncement.

Suddenly, the pieces fell into place, and Ursa scrambled out of the bed in a rage. "You miserable coward!" she shouted at him. Azulon's spies had no one to report to now. There was no reason to speak in whispers anymore. "How dare you use me to do your dirty work! I am your wife, not your common assassin!"

"Did I force your hand?" Ozai shouted back. "It was your idea - I even tried to talk you out of it! Don't try to pin the blame on me for what you've done."

"Oh yes, you've acted very nobly in all this," Ursa spat. She was crying again, but didn't try to stop it. "You were too timid to lift a finger to save your own son, but you found boldness enough for the lies and forgery you needed to serve your own ambition."

Ozai took a deep, controlled breath. "Petty accusations do not suit you, Ursa," he said through gritted teeth. "This is serious."

"Was the life of your firstborn son not serious?" Ursa hated the way her voice broke as she said it. She had thought, in spite of Ozai's weakness, that they were at least in this together. But he'd had his own priorities all along.

"What about the life of your youngest child?" Ozai demanded, and Ursa placed a hand over her stomach reflexively. "Killing the Fire Lord is an act of treason," Ozai went on, his voice low and carefully measured now. "The punishment for treason is death. Did you think about that?"

The question stung. She was not so naive as he made her sound. She had known full well the risks she was taking. "I did not intend to be caught," she replied archly.

"But you could have been," Ozai insisted. "At least this way, I knew your sentence would fall to me."

At least this way. It was the same way he had tried to rationalize following Azulon's orders and killing Zuko. Ozai still believed he was doing the best he could for them, and not just serving his own interests. For the first time, Ursa truly feared her husband. She took a step back as he drew himself up to his full height.

"What you have done can not go unpunished," Ozai declared. "But let my first act as Fire Lord be an act of mercy. You will not face death, but banishment."

Ursa closed her eyes as she felt her knees tremble. She took another step back, hit the bedpost, and sank to the floor. He would not fight, he would not run, but he would send her away. Her husband was far more broken than she had realized.

"How can you do this?" she pleaded softly.

"For the sake of the child," came Ozai's answer, flat and without hesitation. "Isn't that what you wanted from me?"

And it was. All along she had just wanted him to protect their family. She had never imagined he would do it like this.

6:00 AM

It was not quite dawn when she stole her way into her son's room. Faint light was just starting to come in through the windows. She was not supposed to be here. Banishment was an immediate sentence. The dishonored had no right to goodbyes with their loved ones. But Ursa had already done things this night which she had no right to do.

Zuko sighed as she shook him awake, blinking in confusion. "Mom?" he whispered, sitting up. He was still wearing his clothes from the previous day. He must have stayed in bed since he had run from the throne room. He had been so scared, when she had found Azula taunting him.

She grasped him by the shoulders as he stared at her with sleep-clouded eyes. "Zuko, please, my love, listen to me," she whispered urgently. "Everything I've done, I've done to protect you." She pulled the boy to her breast, wrapping her arms tight around him. He leaned into the embrace with complete trust. He was still so young, so innocent.

She heard footsteps outside the door, and cast a furtive glance over her shoulder. There wasn't much time left for her to linger. "Remember this, Zuko," she said sternly, holding him at arms' length so she could look him full in the face. "No matter how much things may seem to change, never forget who you are."

Zuko nodded drowsily, and lay back down. Ursa let the boy go back to sleep. She had done all she could for him. Now she would have to leave him under his father's protection and care.

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, and stepped into the darkness of the corridor. She could only hope that Ozai's care would not prove to be the greatest danger of all.

7:00 AM

Fire Lord Ozai greeted the first sunrise of his reign in the palace gardens, by the turtle duck pond that had always been his wife's favorite place. Whatever peace she had found there, she seemed to have taken with her. He had let her take so much, and yet she hadn't found it to be a fair trade.

Small, hurried footsteps and shallow, labored breathing alerted him to his son's arrival. "Where is she?" Zuko demanded with all the fire he could muster. He sounded just like his mother.

Ozai did not know where she had gone. All that mattered was that she was not here. It was her choices that had made this necessary, and she had done it all for the boy. Zuko would never be able to comprehend the depths to which she had sunk for him. He would never know just how much they had really lost.

He gave his son no answer.