Chapter Text
“The deed,” Princess Ursa said in a low, quiet voice, “is done.”
Prince Ozai’s study occupied the single largest room of their shared family villa. It was, by choice, a dark and gloomy place only just illuminated enough by the overhanging lanterns to see by. The Fire Lord’s second, disfavored son had a black and gold chair that bore more than a little resemblance to a throne seated behind a desk of immaculately polished cherry wood and onyx, trimmed with stylized golden flames, where he normally enjoyed entertaining courtiers and guests with his face cast in shadow. But unusually, he was not to be found there tonight.
Instead, the prince lurked in the deepest shadows towards the very back of the massive room, where the entire wall was covered by shelves stacked high with tomes and scrolls and maps, not far from a plinth upon which rested a beautiful scale model of the Fire Nation Royal Palace, sculpted and painted to his exacting specifications over five years ago. Ozai scarcely so much as glanced behind him as his wife slipped inside, her soft shoes barely making a sound on the wooden floor. There were no creaking boards in the prince’s personal space, of that he had made quite sure.
“I trust that you have taken care of the rest, then?” she continued, closing the door almost inaudibly behind her and walking slowly towards the prince.
“The scribes have duly recorded the last-minute changes to my father’s will,” her husband confirmed with the faintest of nods. “Come the morning, I will be crowned the new Fire Lord,” he took a deep breath, obviously savoring the moment.
Behind him, Ursa frowned but kept on walking closer to him.
“And our son’s life will be spared,” he added after a few seconds, as if that fact was a mere afterthought.
“I am… pleased to hear it,” she allowed herself to breathe a loud sigh of relief as she neared him, before switching to her most serious tone. “You will watch over them, then?”
“It will be as we agreed,” Prince Ozai replied in a faintly condescending voice. “You will leave the capital tonight and never return. The children will remain here with me as collateral, and as long as you honor our accord, then you have my word that no harm will come to either of them.”
Ursa did not believe him. The man who had been fully prepared to murder his own son with nary a word of protest mere hours before, the man who would betray his only brother over the still-cooling corpse of his nephew without hesitation and murder his father for the sake of power rather than love simply could not be trusted. He would never honor an agreement with a mere exiled wife who’d outlived her usefulness, who had no means of enforcing anything on the new Fire Lord. Leaving her precious little Zuko in this man’s hands…
That was why she had brewed more than one dose of poison this night. Ozai would never be such a fool as to accept food or drink from her as Azulon had, of course. But just as there were many types of toxin, so too were there many ways of delivering them. Such as the one currently concealed in the long, flowing sleeve of her elaborate formal robe.
“Then… that is all?” she asked, taking one more wary, silent step towards him.
“Of course it is,” he said at once. “Leave this place.”
Ursa should not have been even mildly surprised, much less disappointed. “We’ve… been married for more than twelve years now, Ozai.”
“And?” he sounded mildly irritated, eyes firmly fixed on the sculpture of the palace he had dreamed of making his own for so long. “You and I have nothing more to say to each other, and no business left between us. Be gone from here immediately.”
He didn’t even bother to face her for a final goodbye. Why would he? To Ozai, Ursa was merely the meek, submissive little wife that he’d held under his thumb for years. She was a weak firebender in her own right, valuable only for her bloodline. What was such a sad, helpless woman, barely a bender at all, to him? She, who loved her weakling runt of a firstborn so very much, could in the end do nothing to defy her prince’s wishes for the boy. Even their little girl knew who truly ruled in their family, knew that her father’s approval was everything.
Ozai loved no one but himself. He didn’t understand the idea of it at all, save as a weakness that he could exploit. No one with even a trace of humanity left in his heart could have thought that making a blatant power play against his grieving brother on the very day he had received word of his nephew’s demise could turn out anything but poorly. But all he had seen in Lu Ten’s death was an opportunity to make a grab for the throne. That was all he now saw in Ursa’s frantic desperation to protect her son. His own arrogance and greed, as ever, blinded him to the dangers.
Consenting to the princess’ plan to kill the Fire Lord had been a mistake on his part. Sending her to serve the poisoned tea in person, rather than risk himself, had compounded it. For, as Ursa had watched the light fade from Azulon’s eyes while his servants lowered him into bed, had seen the old man lie back against his pillow for the last time as if to sleep, a revelation had come upon the unassuming, gentle granddaughter of Avatar Roku.
So much good could come from the right deaths.
“Then I suppose,” the princess spoke softly, using the sound of her voice to mask the faint rustle of silk as she reached carefully into her sleeve, “that this is farewell.”
The blade struck with a speed and strength even Ursa hadn’t known she’d had. She closed the short distance between them in a split second. Before Ozai even had a chance to blink, razor-edged, poison-coated steel, driven by a mother’s all-consuming need to protect what was hers, pierced the back of his neck. It plunged right through his skin and muscle, sliced deeply into bone underneath, and severed the nerves within. The mighty prince, the all-powerful tyrant who had ruled over her life for so many years, simply gasped and collapsed like a mere puppet with his strings cut, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
The princess blinked. She hadn’t thought… she hadn’t dared to believe that it would be so easy. She had entered this room fully prepared to perish in fire as her husband’s last act of vengeance, as long as it would save her little ones. The substance thoroughly coating her dagger was the single deadliest one that the master herbalist knew of, even the slightest nick would have been enough to kill Ozai in short order. But there it was, plain as day. The man who could plausibly claim to be the greatest firebender left in the world, lying sprawled out on the ground, her envenomed dagger embedded deep between his shoulder blades, penetrating his spine. Blood oozed slowly from the wound, staining his rich robes an even darker shade of red.
“Ursa…” Ozai was staring up at her as best his twisted neck could manage, face contorted in shock. “You…”
“You didn’t…” the princess actually laughed, a high-pitched giggle tinged with equal parts hysteria and relief. “You didn’t guess? You didn’t see?”
The only response he could manage came in the form of a shuddering gasp.
“I killed Fire Lord Azulon to protect my son,” she told him, stifling one last giggle at how simultaneously absurd and liberating the moment was. “You were the one who was going to kill him without a second thought. What made you think I couldn’t do the same to you?”
“You… treasonous…” his baleful eyes might once have been fearsome, but now they only appeared pathetic to her. He coughed wetly. Speckles of drool mixed with blood sprayed across the polished wooden floor.
“No more than you, Ozai,” she said, looming over him. “The difference is that I did it for my son. You only ever did it for yourself. Oh and…” after all these years of watching this horrible man berate and abuse her poor sweet boy, she couldn’t resist the urge to return a small portion of it, “that I’ve won.”
The prince snarled furiously, and she knew that if he could have lunged up and strangled her with his bare hands in that moment, he would have.
“You will never be Fire Lord,” Ursa said, kneeling down beside her husband and running her manicured fingernails gently through his long black hair. “You will never lay a finger on my son.” She paused. “You will never poison my daughter with your lies again.” She smiled serenely down at the dying man. “May Agni condemn your soul.”
If Ozai had any final words to say, they would never be known. All that emerged from the prince’s mouth was a gargled hiss and a trickle of crimson that ran down his chin. He glared hatefully up at his wife one last time, his final expression one of sullen rage. Then his head slumped to the floor, and the spark faded from his golden eyes. And so, the man who might have become the greatest evil the world had seen in centuries was instead slain by treachery, his twisted ambitions left forever unfulfilled.
The princess sat back a moment and simply stared at the body, at the blood sluggishly oozing from it. That was really it, then. Her husband, her captor, her child’s tormentor, really was lying there dead on the floor. She really had killed him, just as she’d killed Azulon. She’d never have to listen to his cruel voice shred Zuko’s eager little spirit ever again. She’d never have to lay eyes on that horrible smile that crossed his face when Azula stole her brother’s belongings and burned them.
Ursa wondered if she ought to feel some sense of loss, some pang of sadness for the glimmers of a true man that had once existed in her husband, before he’d allowed his envy, his greed, and his bitterness to choke them out forever. But she didn’t. All she felt, in that moment, was a profound sense of release, a deep pain long weighing on her heart finally dissipating like a morning fog burned away by the rising sun. She’d done it. Her boy… no, both her children were safe now, even if the worst should happen to her. Iroh was not like Ozai or Azulon – he would take care of his brother’s orphans if need be. Lu Ten had grown into a fine young man under him, after all.
But now that she’d survived the deed itself, there was no reason that the worst had to happen. The princess had long been known around the palace as a pleasant, soft, motherly woman who loved small animals and her gardens, enjoyed poetry, flowers, paints, and theater. Even if she seemed slightly sad sometimes, there was nothing that would suggest to anyone that such a sweet, gentle lady might become a murderer. She wasn’t even trained to use her modest firebending for combat. No one save for the dead Azulon and Ozai, along with her underage children, would ever know that she’d had any reason at all to turn on her marital family.
The princess rose slowly to her feet, taking a deep breath while she composed herself. If she wanted to sell this story to the palace, to the nobility that would no doubt be working itself into a fit the moment the news broke, the scene would have to be set just right. She checked her robes and skin carefully, making sure there wasn’t so much as a spot of blood on them. Then with just a little effort, she conjured tears into her eyes from the abundance of them she’d held back for so long. She carefully allowed just a handful to trickle down her cheeks, smearing a little of her makeup. Finally, she opened the nearest door just wide enough, before throwing back her head and unleashing an earsplitting scream.
Agni knew Azula hadn’t gotten her acting talent from her father, after all.
“Guards!” Ursa shrieked, in her best hysterical wife voice. “Guards! Help! An assassin has struck!” She raced outside into the hallway, one hand clutching her chest, the other waving frantically. “Guards!”