Princess Ursa had never been trained in any art of war beyond basic self-defense, and Azulon had been surviving assassination attempts since the Princess' mother was a babe in arms. She really didn't stand a chance.

It was a noble effort, though. She managed to enter his bedroom undetected, which was a worrying accomplishment that his guards were going to suffer for, and yes, he didn't actually notice her until a pillow landed on his face. But Azulon hadn't been asleep, and he had lived to ninety-five because he was blessed with reflexes that did not deteriorate with old age.

He grabbed at whoever was holding him down with a hand wreathed in flame, and knew it wasn't over when he felt flesh sizzle under his touch but heard no scream of pain and surprise. He rolled to the side instead of trying to push away the pillow, and a knife buried itself in the bed right where his throat had been a moment before. He grabbed the wrist above the knife as well, kicked hard at the stomach of his assailant, and let go. The figure stumbled and fell backwards, off the bed's platform and onto the stone floor, and finally made a stifled sound of pain. Definitely alive, but hopefully too badly injured to keep attacking. If at all practical, Azulon preferred to wound rather than kill assassins. The dead couldn't name their fellow conspirators.

He lit the lamps with barely a thought and looked over to the figure sprawled on his floor.

Ah, Agni.

After what had transpired in his throne room that afternoon, Azulon had more than half expected Ozai to finally try to kill him for real. But of course Ozai never did anything himself if he could let others take the fall for him, and of course he'd put the weapon in the hands of the young woman who was Azulon's favorite person in this whole palace (after Iroh -oh, his poor Iroh).

Ursa was holding both hands above her face, eyes wide and fixed on the peeling skin of her wrists. There was more horrified fascination than pain on her face, but pain would come later.

She jerked up when there was a sharp knock at the door. "My Lord, are you well? We heard a noise," the captain of the guard's voice said.

Azulon slowly stepped out of his bed, not taking his eyes off Ursa. "All is well. Return to your post."

"Yes, My Lord."

He truly liked Ursa. She was a much better conversationalist than Ozai, a better pai sho player, and much more pleasant to look at. This was very, very unfortunate.

Azulon sat on his bed, suddenly dreadfully exhausted. What to do with this? He should have dealt with Ozai properly and immediately, instead of giving him time to plan. But he'd been tired, so tired. True sleep eluded him more often than not at his advanced age, but he'd managed no more than a few hours of troubled slumber since the news from Ba Sing Se had come. Lu Ten, dead. Sometimes he could almost convince himself that he was ill and this was all no more than a particularly sinister illusion. He was so terribly old already. Surely no god or spirit would be cruel enough to wait until the very end to snatch away all that was precious to him?

He was slipping. He'd informed Ozai of the punishment for his betrayal of Iroh, but he'd neglected to set the sentence in motion before he laid his head down to sleep, and Ozai had taken advantage of his lapse. Azulon had miscalculated, and the price for his mistake lay whimpering on his bedroom floor. His daughter, a traitor as well. And what was Ozai doing right now? Where were the children?

Azulon closed his eyes. He was too old to even hold his family together. Where was Iroh? Lu Ten's ashes had been sent home, but no one knew where Iroh had disappeared to.

He needed Iroh.

But his firstborn wasn't here. The only capable ally he thought he had in this whole palace was right in front of him, very nearly a regicide. This disaster was entirely his to clean up.

"Did Ozai put you up to this, daughter? I had expected more independent thought from you," he finally said.

Ursa's eyes flicked to his, but she looked away at once. She sat up and began to pull her legs under her, but having to hold her hands away from her body made her uncharacteristically clumsy. The burns on her arms would probably scar if she didn't get treatment for them very soon. Unfortunate, again, but he had to speak with her immediately, and he couldn't risk patching her up just so she could whip out another weapon from between her robes the moment he dared blink. It wouldn't kill her, and she always wore long sleeves anyway.

As soon as she was on her knees, she lowered her head in deference. She held out her burned wrists helplessly, arms shaking.

"I do what I must, father. What choice did I have?", she said, loud and clear.

Azulon could tell she was fighting back tears. But she was talking. She acknowledged defeat and was trying to parlay with him.

She had the right idea, this traitorous, beloved daughter of his. He had become moody and maudlin in his old age. Perhaps something could be salvaged from this wreckage. If he didn't try, he would never know.

"Rise, daughter. I do not enjoy talking to your hair, and this is a conversation that should be had over tea." He stood up from the bed and walked past Ursa towards his pai sho table at the window. Much rustling of rich, heavy cloth told him she was struggling to her feet. He swept his sleeping robe around his legs, sat down, and waited for her to join him.

She was wearing a heavy travel cloak. Had she meant to flee, and abandon her children?

"Sit,” he ordered. “We will have tea now, and words."

Ursa looked at the tea pot on the window sill, clearly trying to decide if she could manage to handle the priceless treasure without dropping it. Azulon shot her a tired glare. "I will make the tea. Jasmine?"

A nod. "Thank you, father."

She'd managed to get rid of the wetness in her eyes. Ursa was no firebender and no warrior, but there was a strength in her that had intrigued Azulon from the moment he'd first met her, when she was barely fourteen. He had played pai sho with her then, in his garden, while Ilah watched them from the veranda and grilled the girl's mother about possibilities for a match between her and Ozai.

If they had to end their association now, it was fitting to do so with another game. He took out the two flat, ornate boxes filled with pieces and slid one towards her.

"We will play while we speak."

"Yes, father."

He gestured in her general direction and busied himself with preparing the tea. "The guest makes the first move."

By the time Ursa's shaking fingers had managed to negotiate the inside of the box and take out the piece she wanted, Azulon had placed a steaming cup by her right hand. They played in silence while he took the time to order his thoughts. Not that there were many that still needed ordering. Ozai had so very obviously been wanting the throne for so many years that Iroh had turned it into one of his standard dinnertime jokes. The sad thing was that Ozai had never been so close to his goal as before he opened his mouth to demand Iroh's birthright. Azulon was ancient, and Iroh was old. With Lu Ten gone, the throne would have defaulted to Ozai after a few decades anyway.

But no, Ozai always had to rush. He'd rushed when he married Ursa at sixteen, when he got her pregnant at once and she nearly died giving birth, when he tried to master lightning at seventeen and almost blew himself up, and when he tried to make Azula do a leaping crane form and the child cracked her head open. Ursa had almost cracked Ozai's head open in return. Now he had rushed again, and this time the consequences would probably be fatal. He'd made sure of that himself.

Azulon turned his attention back to the game just in time to see Ursa place a lotus tile on the board. It was a scuffed wooden piece that definitely hadn't come from the Fire Lord's ivory set.

"What is that tile?"

Ursa stared at the piece with a decidedly wistful expression. "It was a gift from Master Piandao."

Piandao? The sword master hadn't been near the capital in over a decade, and as far as Azulon knew, Ursa had never exchanged more than letters with her now-disgraced former teacher. Antique game pieces were definitely a new and peculiar development.

"And when did you have occasion to receive this gift?", Azulon asked.

"I met him quite by accident while I was traveling through the Hu province five weeks ago. He was staying at the same inn as I."

Piandao lived near the town of Shu Jing, in the middle of the Hu province. He was hardly likely to have need of its inns. Ursa saw Azulon's raised brows, but she only shrugged. "We talked over tea, and he gave me this. He said I should use it in a game in times of great need, and perhaps my opponent would recognize my plight and give me aid."

Oh, he remembered how fond Piandao had been of speaking in riddles. Iroh suffered from the same annoying habit, except that he was funnier about it. It was probably fortunate for Azulon's nerves that Ursa -and Ozai, when he deigned to speak at all- continued to favor the direct approach.

But really, she had to know that she had much to lose and nothing to gain by associating any further with Piandao. "If I were you, daughter, I would not display reminders of Piandao inside the walls of this palace."

"Why not, father? His views on the progress of our great nation are a little unique, but he keeps them to himself and causes no harm. He left your court almost twelve years ago and hasn't caused the slightest bit of trouble since." She shrugged again. "Except for those one hundred soldiers, but, well. I'm sure they must have been interrupting some kind of important business."

Of course, Ursa did like to pretend she was about a fourth as intelligent as she actually was. Playing dumb was always a useful tactic for a woman, and it was twice as effective at the royal court. People who didn't know Ursa fell for it hilariously often, and she was never even trying very hard.

Still.

"Piandao does not keep all of himself to himself at all times!" Azulon jabbed a finger at Ursa's chest and watched her start. Tea sloshed over her trembling fingers, and she hissed. "I know you hear the whispers of the court better than my own ears ever could. They say Piandao left the capital to spare you scandal. They say that your son does not resemble Ozai at all in either skill or temperament. They notice that Zuko displays a remarkable and rather inexplicable affinity for swordplay."

This time she flushed, darkly, and the corners of her mouth twisted. If she were a hedgefrog, she'd have puffed out her spikes.

"You dishonor me by even listening to such vile slander, father!"

Azulon almost laughed at how grossly offended she sounded. As if repeating idle court gossip was the worst he could possibly do to her after she'd just tried to smother him.

Then the color drained from her face as quickly as it had appeared, and her eyes widened.

"Is that why you would sacrifice Zuko? You believe he isn't of your blood?", she breathed.

Azulon frowned. Sacrifice? That was hardly how he'd describe it. "What do you mean by that?"

She blinked, slowly. "Azula said... My daughter heard you speak to Ozai. You told him that you would punish him for betraying Iroh by making him murder his own firstborn son."

For a moment, he was truly certain that he must have heard her wrong.

"Did Ozai confirm this?"

"Yes,” she replied at once.

He'd been expecting Ozai to make a grab for the throne from the day the idiot proclaimed he wanted to name his children after the father he held no love for. That had been too transparent, a beginner's mistake, but Ozai had been extremely young then. He had learned. Oh, he had learned. When had he gotten this cunning? While Azulon was busy chuckling over Iroh's jokes?

"He has tricked you. Foolish woman!" Azulon didn't even try to keep the snarl out of his voice, and Ursa's stiff hands jerked again at his outburst. He should have known it would be something as vile as this. He should have known.

"I do intend to punish Ozai,” he continued. “He has been looking to court my favor and discredit his brother long enough. He thinks my old eyes are blind, and my old ears deaf. Yes, he betrayed Iroh, by openly requesting that I name him Crown Prince now that Lu Ten is gone. And yes, I will punish him for his outrageous demand, as is my right as his sire and his Fire Lord."

There was something desperate and calculating in Ursa's look of surprise, as if she was considering trying to choke Azulon with the pai sho tiles if the next thing that came out of his mouth wasn't to her liking. She'd never struck him as the type who'd take desperate gambits. Then again, he wouldn't have expected her to try to smother him, so perhaps it was time to consider that she might have hidden depths.

"Ozai will lose his place in the order of succession and all the noble titles he has earned,” Azulon went on. “He will also be forced to give up his son, although I suspect he will consider that the least of his losses, given how he treats the child. Zuko will be given to Iroh to raise as his heir."

Ursa's mouth fell open. Azulon glared at her. Why had she believed Ozai's lies? "I hardly see why that arrangement would upset you enough to brandish a knife at your Fire Lord. Your son is much fonder of Iroh than he is of Ozai, and Iroh likes him. He will continue to live in this palace, and surely Iroh will not try to exclude you from his life. One day your son will wear my crown and you will be Dowager Fire Lady."

"You don't want Zuko dead?"

Azulon stared.

It had to be shock that made her speak like that. He had had dinner with her and her children only four days ago, before the news about Lu Ten came. She had seen him take Zuko's rice bowl and warm it for him after the boy had spent most of the meal squabbling with his sister -over what again? Something about the proper way to feed turtleducks. Ursa couldn't possibly think for a second that Azulon would want to slaughter that same child only days later later.

But she did. She looked at him and thought him capable of decreeing the murder of his grandson. This was what they had come to. This woman who knew him, who had lived under his roof for her entire adult life, thought that he would play with the lives of healthy young princes as if such beings grew on trees.

"We are in the middle of a grand war for our very existence!” He didn't bother to conceal his anger. “Our house just lost one of its three heirs. Do you truly believe I would weaken us further by ordering the senseless death of a second? Do you?"

It took Ursa a moment to realize he was expecting an answer. She gave a tiny shake of her head.

Azulon found it hard to look at her all of a sudden. He'd been accused of many things in his life, most of the time with good cause, but that he would live to be accused of this...

"At least do me the courtesy of respecting my abilities as a politician, if you cannot respect me as a grandfather,” he sighed. “I will allow no harm to Zuko. Or to any other child under my roof."

She stared at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. Perhaps she was.

Ursa hadn't been there for Azulon's greatest deeds and triumphs. While he was trampling the last pathetic remnants of the Earth armies in the Hu Xing provinces, Ursa had just been learning to walk. At the time when he captained the first siege of Ba Sing Se, she hadn't even been conceived yet. Her parents were just learning to walk when Azulon led the legendary charge at Garsai and defeated three hundred earthbenders with only forty of his father's Imperial firebenders. Ursa knew about all of that only from tales and ballads, like everyone else.

And she wasn't the only one. Iroh had been at Azulon's side during some of his conquests, but Ozai was even younger than Ursa, if only by a few months. He, too, had formed an image of who Azulon was and what he wanted based on scrolls and songs. But he would never, ever realize that Azulon might be different from who he used to be. He saw his father every day, and it still hadn't even occurred to him that Azulon might have other priorities in his last years than reaching new heights of ruthlessness, conquering more land, and delighting in the fact that his grandchildren managed to make bigger and better fireballs every day.

Ozai honestly didn't see that Azulon simply wanted Iroh and the rest of them to inherit a secured and peaceful empire.

Once Ozai had a goal or a thought, he would cling to it against all reason and any attempt at persuasion. But Ursa now, she was adaptable. She changed her tune and her opinions when the circumstances shifted or she received new information. Azulon had seen that particular difference in their characters played out during countless dinner conversations, when Ursa would change her mind in the middle of a discussion and argue against Ozai when she'd been on his side before. That always seemed to infuriate him so much that she might as well have taken her chopsticks and stabbed him in the back with them.

Ursa could be made to understand what Azulon wanted. Judging from the almost comically astonished look on her face, it was beginning to dawn on her already.

But what to do with Ozai? Could he be redeemed? Azulon had never quite understood him, but he was royal blood, and one of only two precious sons. What he had done, though... At least Ozai had only lied about the danger to Zuko to make Ursa lose her head and do his bidding. At least he hadn't been so depraved as to actually inflict violence on his son. But were there any lows he wouldn't sink to, if he would damn the mother of his children by ordering her to murder his own father?

No. He couldn't risk leaving Ozai free. Perhaps he couldn't even risk leaving him alive, but Azulon did not feel up to considering the possibility of a trial and an execution. Later.

Ursa was hardly the embodiment of loyalty, but at least she could be counted upon not to harm the children. It made sense to keep her. But he needed her to be absolutely certain that her offspring would be safest if she remained loyal to him. She was attached to Ozai, perhaps even now, and he might persuade her to trust him again if she felt at all insecure about Azulon's promises.

"Answer me this, daughter. Do you believe me when I say I wouldn't allow a single hair on your children's heads to be touched?"

She nodded, quite decisively. "Yes, father."

"Good." Azulon leaned forward. "Let me be blunt, so that I may make myself entirely clear. I could not care less if your son is truly of my blood or not. I will continue not to care. We have experienced quite enough calamity without inflicting a bastardy scandal on our house. The issue is moot."

She drew herself up, once more radiating affronted dignity. "Father... My Lord, I assure you that...", she began.

She was a good liar, she always had been. He truly couldn't tell if she spoke the truth now. The blush, the glower, the heat in the voice -she was a perfect picture of a virtuous and deeply offended lady. Too perfect? Who knew.

"Do not interrupt me, daughter. I have just lost one grandson and seem poised to lose even more of my foolish family. Your marital fidelity or lack of it is the least of my worries."

She closed her mouth with a snap but continued to glower at him.

"It would be embarrassing if your son bore any physical resemblance to the sword master, but he takes after you, and he can firebend,” Azulon went on. “That is the only requirement for him to ascend to the throne. His actual level of ability is of no consequence."

He could see the explosion brewing in her eyes before she opened her mouth. Really, the temper on this woman. Ozai almost deserved her.

"Zuko is a gifted bender! Ozai simply refuses to see that he..."

"Silence!" She snapped her mouth shut again. But Agni, the look on her face. She was sitting at his pai sho table in the middle of the night, she'd been badly wounded in an attempt to assassinate him, she'd accused him of being a kinslayer, but she was pouting at him because he'd made a vaguely insulting remark about her child.

Women.

Azulon had made up his mind, and any more talking from her or from him could only make this interminable night even longer. It was time to finish.

"The tutors of my grandchildren send me reports about their progress, daughter. I read these reports. I'm perfectly aware that your son is not the total incompetent Ozai makes him out to be. Stop arguing with me and do as I say, and he will wear my crown before your hair turns white."

Thankfully, she took the hint this time and bowed her head. "I am loyal to you, father. Please forgive me my lapse in judgment. I feared for my child and lost all reason,” she murmured.

"I suppose that is the natural thing to do for a mother. We will end this tonight. Tell me where Ozai is."

"In our rooms,” she said at once.

"Is he waiting for you?"

"Yes."

"As I said, now that we have lost Lu Ten, I have no wish to lower our numbers any further. But I clearly cannot trust Ozai." Oh, what to do with that man? Later. Later. "You will not see him again. I trust you have no objections."

Her thunderous expression seemed genuine enough. Perhaps Ozai had finally gone too far with her. "None, father."

"The Fire Sages will pronounce your divorce at sunset tomorrow. You are still young, and I would prefer that you marry Iroh and have more children. But he will probably refuse and I will not live long enough to force the issue, so we will concentrate on ensuring the safety of your existing children for now."

No, Iroh would not want more children. Not after this.

"I am sacrificing a powerful and healthy son, and I count on your children to be adequate replacements. I expect them to grow strong."

"They will not disappoint you, father."

"See that they do not. Ah, one more thing." Azulon's coffers were almost empty. They'd already conquered and looted everything of real value in the Earth Kingdom save for Omashu and Ba Sing Se, and unless Iroh decided to unleash bloody revenge on the city of the walls, they had very little chance of capturing either of those strongholds in the near future. They needed financial support from their nobility, and there was one man who was both fabulously wealthy and influential enough to turn all of Azulon's nobles against him if he was so inclined. Governor Treung had promised both gold and support, but only if his daughter could wed the Crown Prince.

"We cannot afford to weaken our alliance with Governor Treung. I expect he will have no objections to betrothing his daughter to Zuko instead of Lu Ten,” Azulon said. “You know the parties involved better than I do, so advise me. Do you foresee any difficulties with this change of plans?"

The ghost of a smile flitted across her face. "No, father. I expect it will go well. Treung Mai is the same age as my children, and she visits often. She and Zuko are good friends."

Ah. How convenient. "That is at least one point in your boy's favor already. Very well. You will discuss the matter with the Governor's wife tomorrow afternoon. We must not leave them in uncertainty." She inclined her head again.

"Enough talk. Guards!"

The door opened, letting in the captain and two of his men. Ursa shook her sleeves over her burned wrists before the guards could get a good look at her.

"Go to the room of Prince Ozai and arrest him. Use force if you must,” he ordered. “Take him to the prison tower. Station guards outside the rooms of Prince Zuko and Princess Azula, and do not let them leave or anyone enter until I give the word. And send a scribe to this room."

The captain blinked and didn't move. Azulon supposed he could forgive the man for disbelieving his own ears.

"Must I repeat myself?"

"No, My Lord. It will be done." They backed out of the room, and the sound of running footsteps soon disappeared down the hall. Azulon prayed that Ozai would realize he was finished and not cause trouble, so that he might get at least a few hours of rest tonight. He was so dreadfully tired, and his head ached so very much. He rubbed his face and sent a longing glance towards his bed.

There was a knife in his mattress. Agni, he'd have to call in the servants to get rid of that and the sheets he'd burned while fighting off Ursa. He'd never hear the end of it.

"I call this game, father,” Ursa's voice interrupted.

Azulon's eyes shot to the board.

Well. He'd let himself be hemmed in, and Ursa's battered old lotus tile was in perfect position to capture his remaining jasmine and lily tiles in one move. This was a remarkable first. Ursa was a comparatively strong opponent, but Azulon had been playing pai sho for the better part of a century, and he could usually finish her off without even paying attention. Only Iroh managed to deal him a defeat every now and again.

"Oh. Well done, daughter. Very well done,” he admitted.

Ursa smiled. "You are an old man, father. Easily distracted by gossip and the face of a beautiful woman."

Azulon blinked and narrowed his eyes, really looking at the table for the first time since they'd started playing. There had been something off about the patterns on the board for the last few minutes, but he'd been too busy dealing with her treasonous business to focus on it. That little sneak. She'd moved at least one piece while he hadn't been looking, and she'd done it several turns ago. By now he had no hope of figuring out exactly what she'd done, or of proving that she'd cheated.

He laughed. She truly was a stunning creature. If only Ozai had tried to hold on to her through love rather than fear and deceit.

"I am an old man, true. And you are impertinent, and a liar, and a cheat. I regret that I will not live to see what you will be like as our Dowager Fire Lady."

He began to gather the pieces and placed them back in the appropriate boxes, still chuckling. Yes, he'd made the right decision by keeping Ursa. She might turn out to be exactly as much of a backstabber as her husband, but at least she did it with style and humor.

"How old are you now, daughter?"

"Twenty-eight, father."

Already? It seemed only yesterday that she was a thin girl who ran barefoot through the gardens and played tag with Lu Ten. "And your children?"

"Zuko is eleven. Azula will be ten next month."

"Do they enjoy tea yet?"

"I'm afraid not. They share a rather impatient disposition. Zuko will pretend to enjoy it, if his uncle is the one brewing."

She glanced to the side.

"I mean, his father," she amended.

Good. "All skills are learned through mimicry in the beginning. Pretense will do for now. Send him to the southern garden after your morning meal. I understand he possesses a set of child's practice swords?"

"Yes, father. They were a gift from Lu Ten."

Azulon knew the origin of every single piece in Zuko's ridiculously expansive collection of sharp toys. His guards kept a very close eye on all weapons that entered the palace, even those hidden in the secret furniture and wall compartments that the little prince thought nobody else had discovered. (Azulon had slept in Zuko's bedroom as a boy. He'd made most of those compartments.) But it was nonetheless amusing that Ursa seemed to feel the need to stress again that Piandao had nothing to do with the child.

Really, Azulon was only needling her because it amused him. She was at least as likely to be innocent as guilty. There was no denying that Ursa had been close to the man while he had taught her philosophy, calligraphy and pai sho. But Ursa's ill-advised overt affection towards Piandao and Zuko's startling love of swords were hardly proof of anything. And there was the fact that Ozai had never tried to murder the sword master -although he might have decided that openly engaging with Piandao would only mean fanning the rumors that he was a cuckold.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to call the sword master home and have him teach the boy. Zuko would need a capable master if he was truly as talented as Iroh claimed, and Ursa would certainly enjoy the man's company. If Piandao truly cared about her, he wouldn't refuse a summons from the Fire Lord if it suggested that Ursa might come to harm if Piandao stuck to his refusal to leave his castle. And if Piandao had one reasonable bone in his body, he'd be missing the court and the prestige of being a royal instructor by now. How entertaining could the Hu province possibly be? Azulon had traveled through it often enough, and its only distinguishing feature was that there seemed to be no end to it. Surely no man could be so attached to his principles that he would spend his days in isolation in that backwater land if the other option was a life of luxury in Caldera.

And if the boy really was his, Piandao would most certainly appreciate being allowed to live near what was probably his only child. Yes, Azulon decided, he could kill two birds with one stone and bring Piandao and his strange ideas back into the fold. He might even earn himself another diverting pai sho opponent.

Also, Iroh used to enjoy Piandao's company. Azulon would invite the mad king of Omashu into his palace if he thought it would bring even a little joy back into Iroh's life.

"Have the boy bring his swords, I wish to test him on all of his skills. I will oversee his education until Iroh returns,” he told Ursa.

"Yes, father."

"You will wait here until word arrives that my orders have been executed. Then you may see the physician and visit your children. You will explain the circumstances to them and ensure that they remain calm. I am having a very, very bad day, and I will not have it made worse by loud tantrums."

"As you wish, father."

"Nothing is as I wish it." It came out much more bitter than he'd intended.

She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. He could smell the stench of her burned flesh, and the wound looked fiercely red even in the muted light of the lamps. He had done that. He'd never burned anyone of his family before. The closest he'd ever come to it had been a training accident with Ozai twenty years ago.

"Take heart, father. Things can only improve from now on."