.o.O Too Late O.o.

Twilight dimmed the halls of the palace, the gathering shadows lending a sinister touch to an innocent daily ritual.

Or perhaps not so innocent, not today, unlike every other day since Iroh had left for the war. Azulon missed his favorite son for many reasons, not the least of which was Iroh's abilities with tea. In his absence the duty fell to Ursa, the next most capable. It wasn't that Azulon's tastes were particularly demanding, yet she had found the task demeaning in a subtle way, as if he were trying to show how little his other son's family meant to him.

Ursa may not have been cynical by nature, but her life as a noble taught her the unwritten rules integral to her current standing. What was an honor given freely was a service when asked. However, it was not her place to question the Fire Lord.

Not even when he asked the one thing she would never give.

An hour of patient, painstaking coercion to get the story out of her daughter and Ursa still couldn't understand why Zuko's death was necessary. Her conversation with Ozai had served to muddy the water further. Neither was being entirely straight with her, but then, they never were. Even if she couldn't be certain if their story was true, previous experience told her to be cautious- act now or it would be too late.

So, in an attempt to shape her own destiny before it was shaped for her, Ursa was making tea, just as she had every other day for the past four years. This time Azula was sulking in the corner, though that wasn't very remarkable; after their frequent "talks," Ursa tried to force some kindness between them to make up for the lecture. Tea making was supposed to be a great time for bonding. Then again…

Well, Azula was Azula. Ursa didn't understand her, didn't like her attitude, and she had a strong suspicion that the feeling was mutual. Eight-year-olds shouldn't have such a critical gaze. Not toward their mothers.

She also had an aggravating habit of cutting Ursa in exactly the wrong way.

"It's not my fault Grandfather hates Dad. Maybe if Zuko tried a little harder, he wouldn't be so worthless, and Grandfather would-"

"Would what, Azula? If your story is true – and I wouldn't have believed it if your father hadn't backed you up – if it is true, you should consider yourself lucky that he didn't ask for your sacrifice as well!" Ursa hated having to use such a harsh tone on her own child. Why couldn't she have been more like Zuko?

"Dad would protect me. Azulon picked on Zuko 'cause no one's going to bother saving him."

Icy silence stretched out over the kitchen. Usually quiet at the late hour, it was compounded by Ursa's frigid glare.

"You're just mad because you know it's true," Azula muttered under her breath.

Her smug satisfaction faltered when she failed to elicit a response, and Azula broke eye contact to watch the tiny flames struggling under the teapot. Ursa, meanwhile, finished preparing the tea. Jasmine, and Azulon insisted on nothing but the best.

Azula was right, Ursa thought bitterly. They might be surrounded by nobility, yet not another person in the palace had the decency to stand up against injustice. At least Zuko had the courage to keep trying, when all their little world conspired against him. It was one of the reasons she still cared about having a family.

She could barely remember if Ozai had always been so cruel, so ambitious. Happy memories felt like illusions, slipping away from her grasp upon closer inspection. She had given up on him while he scarcely noticed her.

Today would be different, though. It was amazing, she mused, how much a simple cup of tea could solve. Strike quickly, decisively – that was the firebender way. In the past, Ursa had fought an uphill battle to protect her son. Today she would fix everything before it was too late.

Of course, what she was about to do was risky, and certainly not something she wanted Azula to know about, however unchildlike the girl acted. Besides, she realized with a start, it was far past Azula's bedtime.

How the time flew when danger threatened.

"Azula, I want you to go straight to bed." Ursa's command shattered the uneasy calm. "No dawdling. If I hear a word from the servants or your brother, you will be confined to your room tomorrow."

"Yes, Mother." Uncharacteristic meekness met a slight smile, but Ursa was too distracted by her thoughts to detect it.

It wasn't as though she enjoyed committing murder. She had no choice. The princess hardly noticed her daughter slam the door, but as the patter of footsteps faded, she removed several small vials from the cabinet that stored dangerous herbs. Azulon wasn't paranoid (the last court physician to think so had an unfortunate accident in his Agni Kai) but he had minor troubles that kept him awake. Sleeping draughts were a popular option for nervous types in the royal court, and just the other week Captain Zhao's young wife had passed away from a tragic overdose.

Ursa emptied the final drops of the third vial. Besides, the man was getting on in his years. And if anyone was blamed, it would be the servants. They had the unlucky task of measuring the dosage for the Fire Lord.

A pang of guilt assaulted her as the hapless servant entered and picked up the tray and one of the remaining vials to deliver to the Firelord's bedside. Ursa didn't even know the servant's name, and she might be condemning him to a painful death when Azulon couldn't be woken the next morning.

Sacrifices had to be made, though. If worst came to worst, she could help him - with the right spin to his story, he would just be banished. She wasn't a complete monster, after all.

One more task for tonight, and Ursa would be free to go to bed and put this nightmare day behind her.

.o.O.O.o.

The playroom wasn't that large compared to the scale of the rest of the palace and Zuko must have dropped his knife somewhere. His mother distinctly remembered seeing it fall near the door – someone probably kicked it aside, although the floor was bare, and no telltale glint caught her eye. She lit another torch with an abstracted flick of her fingers to make a cursory search.

A swift glance at the table revealed nothing, and the shadow-haunted corners were barren when she walked closer. It was beneath her dignity to search under all the furniture, but there was still no sign of the knife after she did so anyway. Could she get any luck today?

Another minute more, and she admitted defeat. The knife had totally disappeared. It would be a pity to lose such a valuable gift, so she would return in the morning to search again. Whatever their other morals were, no one wanted to be suspected of thievery in the palace, with Azulon's guards breathing down their necks.

Ursa sighed quietly and extinguished the last torch, gathering a few flames to her palm then passing through the curtained doorway. It swished shut behind her, the subtle rustle setting her nerves on edge until she looked back. As her heart rate calmed, she paced back down through the deserted halls to the wing where the royal family slept.

Her eyes adjusted to the velvet darkness, ears tuned to the measure of her lonely footsteps. By now, Azulon would have drunk his fatal potion. There hadn't been an outcry, so she was safe for the moment. Surely there would have been an uproar had he detected anything amiss.

The polished stone underfoot lent a slight echo to her steps here. She hesitated at the junction of two halls, eventually taking the passage that led towards the children's rooms. They had both outgrown her bedside stories, but it couldn't hurt to check on them. Zuko would probably be awake (how could anyone sleep with Azulon's threat hanging over their head ?) and she should really put his mind at rest.

The thick carpet now muffled the little sound she made, the remainder absorbed by the hangings on the walls. Some of these also told stories, mostly of dragons and of ages long passed. Ursa sadly traced a frayed edge. Sometime in the past hundred years there had been some serious editing in this section. Any story with references to the Avatar had been removed, though there were miniscule traces; the weave never matched perfectly, nor did the accumulation of dust.

Almost there; this bedroom was unoccupied, and the one by the turn was Azula's. Ursa squinted in the flickering light. Was her door open? She hurried towards it, anger and disappointment surging through her mind.

That girl couldn't be trusted with anything!

Where could she be at this hour? Clearly she was getting herself in trouble. Whatever it was, she would regret it. Ursa had a very trying day, and this was the last straw.

Some quirk of design had connecting passage widen into a full room before branching into other corridors, one of which led to Zuko's bedroom on the other end. It barley registered in Ursa's thoughts most days, and today she stormed through it, not even sparing the room its usual second glance.

Zuko's door was closed, giving no hint to whether he was inside. At Ursa's touch, it slid back smoothly, the oiled hinges allowing her to see in without waking the sleeping boy. He muttered softly as the light from her fire reflected around the room, otherwise fast asleep. Ursa cupped her hand around her light source, smiling again.

Zuko was fine, thank goodness. Ursa closed the door behind her, then debated whether to lock it or not, just in case. No, it might wake him, and she still had to find Azula.

Back in the central room, Ursa crossed through once again, but her temper had subsided enough that she noticed something off in her surroundings. Puzzled, she stood silently and let her gaze play over the other hallways that led away. The two she'd been through were dark, but the passage towards her own chamber had a single burning torch on one side. Its crackle mixed with another hushed sound: voices, somewhere in the corner.

Ursa was no stranger to eavesdropping, not that she liked to admit it. It had helped her several times during the last trying years, when she had felt almost as paranoid as Azulon was officially not. She closed her hand and put out the fireball, then crept quietly towards the glow of the torch.

A soft scrape of steel on leather. Then her husband's voice, unmistakable despite the whisper. "Would you really do it, if I asked?"

"Kill Zuko? Now?"

Ursa froze for a split second, ice trickling down her spine. What? And why? She had solved that problem already, hadn't she?

"Why not? Your mother has already eliminated one nuisance; surely you can do better than that pathetic woman."

Fiery rage seared away the ice. How dare he? Ursa stepped forward, a sharp gesture of her arms lighting every torch in the vicinity. "Pathetic? Me? Ozai, explain yourself!"

The conspirators flinched away from the intense blaze, but Ozai's expression was unperturbed. "So nice of you to join us, dear. You went through with your plan, I take it?"

"Yes," Ursa answered curtly. "I take it there's to be another murder tonight?"

His mouth turned upward in what might have been a reassuring smile, but more closely resembled a faint sneer. "Of course not. I was just… testing Azula's loyalty. You know me; I would never do anything to harm my only son."

Once, she knew him. At this moment, though? Ursa tried to meet his eyes, tried to hear truth in his tone, not mockery. "I should hope not." Frustrated, she turned her attention to the little girl hiding behind her father. "Azula, I told you to go to your room. These matters do not concern you, and you will be punished for disobeying me the first time."

The miscreant in question stepped fully into the light, injured innocence written on her features. "But Mom, I-"

"Your mother's right, Azula," Ozai interrupted. "We have things to discuss." At her father's word, Azula dropped her protest. As she started walking in the direction of her room, Ursa made a motion as if to go with her, but was halted by a hand on her arm.

"Let her go. She wouldn't dare defy my commands."

Ursa shook him off, but made no motion to leave, having lost sight of her daughter behind one of the ornate columns. "That's the problem, isn't it? She'll do whatever you say, but she doesn't bother respecting my wishes at all."

"Oh, you think she needs to learn respect? I assure you, if anyone should have that lesson, it would be your son." He held up a thin metallic object, letting the fire reflect off its silver surface. "At the very least, he should be a bit more careful with his gifts."

Ursa resisted an urge to grab the thing out of her husband's hand. "Where did you find Zuko's knife? I've been looking for it!"

"I? I didn't find it anywhere. Azula had it with her when she was going to her room."

"So she was the thief." Ursa's lips curled into an accusing frown.

"You give her far too much credit. I asked her to find a weapon and meet me down here. Tonight seemed to be the perfect time to teach her some of the more interesting side of politics." Ozai ran a finger down the blade, idly tracing the inscription. "I hope you don't mind that I told her about your little plot. It was too good of a demonstration to pass up."

Ursa recoiled from his lack of human concern. "She's only eight, for Agni's sake! Why on earth are you teaching her how to kill? She doesn't even act like a child anymore- you've turned her into some kind of monster!"

"It is a valuable lesson – you of all people should know that. Besides, she'll have to learn eventually. Power cannot be held by the weak."

Ursa's patience, already hair-thin, shattered into wrath. "Valuable or not, I will not have you destroying our children like that!"

"On the contrary," Ozai said, still unfazed, "You are destroying them with your weakness. Azula will be a model princess in a few years. Zuko, on the other hand…"

"Will be a decent human being!" Ursa snapped.

Her husband tsked softly, finally showing some response. "I thought you wouldn't understand. For me to be Fire Lord, I need a successor who will follow in my footsteps, a successor with the potential to be a great leader, an heir powerful beyond mere humans. I need royalty, Ursa, not a boy who falls down whenever he firebends."

Suspicion wormed through Ursa's blind fury. "It wasn't going to be an ordinary lesson, was it? You were going to have Zuko killed."

"Oh, believe me, I should have. Your interruption did change the lesson plans." He paused, considering his last words. "But no, I did say I wouldn't harm him, didn't I?"

Ursa clutched at the faint hope of restoring peace. "He may not fit your ideals, but he is our son." She cursed her tongue, unable to find a convincing argument. "He's still young. Perhaps after some years, some better training- "

"Yes, you have a point." He smirked, alerting every sense Ursa had to danger. "More training? Certainly. He could use a few harsh lessons. After a few years, he should come around to my way of thinking."

"Don't be too hard on him." Ursa shot back. "I'll watch you. If you do anything to make him conform to your twisted ideals, I'll be there before it's too late."

"That would be an interesting – even formidable- obstacle," he mused. "It will be a pity you won't be there, then."

"What?" Terror seized Ursa's voice. "Of course I'll be there, I'll be Fire Lady. I'll be by your side, just like we planned!"

His voice took on a tone of false regret. "I'm sorry, Ursa, but you will not. I can't have my legitimacy to the throne questioned, can I? The transfer will be suspicious as it is, with Iroh gone and only a few witnesses to Azulon's words. Of course, if everyone knew who the murderer was-"

"No! You-you can't treat me like that!' She struggled to get her emotions under control. "I'm your wife-"

"People say that a lot to me, I'm afraid. They fail to realize that, in fact, I can. I'm so sorry dear." Ozai raised his voice, obviously about to summon guards. "I meant to give you until morning, so you would have some time to say goodbye before you were banished, but if you're going to be this way..."

"You monster!" Ursa's arm reacted without her conscious thought. Hungry flames snarled across the distance and her husband slammed against a convenient stone column, shock written on his features. Then a pause, just enough for her intake of breath, and Ozai's body fell to the floor, stunned.

It was only a second afterwards that Ursa realized she was committing visible, irrefutable treason. When Ozai woke up, it would be the dungeon for her – or more likely, execution, her name dragged in the dirt as an extra insult.

She stooped by the body, unsure what to do. If she let him live, she was dead. If she killed him…? Part of her shied away from yet another murder, but it would be so simple. A fire dagger to the throat, and a story about an assassin, who killed the Fire Lord and then killed her husband when he was caught trying to escape.

So simple...

Act now or it would be too late…

Flames sparked from her fingers. They lengthened to the size of Zuko's knife, reassuring in their lethality. All she had to do was lower them.

Suddenly, a tiny hand seized her wrist; burning amber eyes challenged her to move. So, Azula had been spying on them. Somehow, Ursa wasn't that surprised, though she really didn't want her daughter to see her commit murder.

"Azula, go away," she ordered, praying that for once, her daughter would listen to authority. "This is the third time I've told you to go to bed. In the morning-"

"You won't be here." Azula refused to let go, despite her mother's efforts to shake her off. "Grandfather won't be either. I wouldn't kill Dad if I were you. I'll tell everyone."

Ursa laughed. She couldn't help it. Who would believe an eight-year-old, and a notorious liar at that, over her, the princess? The idea was ridiculous. The mother in her said that she should ignore Azula's comment and put the child to bed; it was too late to be having this conversation. Still, she had to ask.

"Would you really do it? Tell everyone that your mother was a murderess?"

"Maybe. You can't be sure now, can you?" It was eerie, the way the little girl seemed to read her mother's innermost thoughts. "Would you really do it? Kill Dad?"

"I-" Damn that child, she shouldn't be able to do this, not at her age. How could she look so sweet and innocent, yet so accusing at the same time?

"Why not kill me too, and silence all the witnesses?" Azula looked thoughtful. "I think that's why he told me, actually. You won't be perfectly safe unless you kill me too."

Ursa winced. Sure, no one would question her, but the smallest word could start rumors, and rumors at a time like this…well, it wouldn't be pretty. And there was always the other question, had Ozai told anyone else? She couldn't know, not now.

Azula had noticed the momentary hesitation. "If I was Zuko, this wouldn't be a question, would it?" she asked softly. "You always wanted me to be more like Zuko…"

Her mother almost jumped, stung by the accuracy of the criticism. "If you were more like Zuko, we wouldn't be having this conversation!" she countered. "Your brother doesn't betray people, and lie, and…"

Ursa trailed off and stared into the darkness, unwilling to pursue the implications.

"Really, Mother, I wonder where he learned that." Azula followed her mother's eyes into the shifting shadows. "Certainly not from you."

It was hypnotic, her ability to destroy one from the inside. Ursa could feel her world crumbling around her, yet she knew she could never lift a finger against the child. They were family, after all.

"Go to bed, Azula," she settled on. The same tired command, no more effective now than it had ever been.

Hypocrisy or safety? Either way, her daughter would always know…

"Aren't you going say goodbye, Mother?" The words brought Ursa back to reality. Yes, she would be leaving. It hurt her to let these monsters have her son at their mercy, but she had failed, hadn't she. From the minute Ozai had seen the throne within his reach, it was a lost cause. Too late.

She lifted Azula into a perfunctory hug, smoothing the little firebender's hair. "Goodbye, Azula. Promise me you'll be good."

"You'd never believe me anyway. I'm some kind of monster, remember?"

"Yes, Azula." Why disagree? It was true, however much Ursa regretted it. Perhaps she shouldn't have used those words in front of the girl, but then, it was Azula's fault for listening to things she was not meant to hear.

"Zuko'll miss you but I won't. Not a bit." Azula twisted out of her mother's grasp. "If he cries, I'll laugh at him."

Was she lying? Ursa had never been able to tell. It sounded true, and when in doubt Ursa believed the worst about her second child.

"I'll miss you, though," she replied. A lie that neither believed. Azula edged away, picking up the knife her father had dropped. Ursa stood up, wishing there was something else she could say all of a sudden, something to repair the rift between them before she left forever.

"Azula, I'm sorry. Maybe there were some things I should have done differently-"

"If you want to say goodbye to Zuko, you'll have to be fast." The little girl didn't even look up when interrupting, apparently fascinated with her new toy. "I'm going to call the guards."

"Azula…" Ursa put her hand on her daughter's shoulder, only to have it shrugged off. With a sigh, she turned and walked away to find her son.

Ursa didn't look back. Her chance to save either child had passed. Perhaps she had never even had one in the first place.

Did it matter though? At this point, it was too late.

Always, it was too late.

.o.O.O.o.