Moments later, Ursa left the study, her breathing shaky, her gaze lost. Her steps were slow, almost dragging. When she crossed the hallway where Ren waited hidden in the shadows, he watched her in silence. She didn't see him. Or she didn't want to. The woman kept moving, heading to her quarters, where she would start packing like someone who knows a part of her life has ended.
Ren waited a few seconds before entering the study.
Time to close the deal.
Ozai was with his back turned, holding a jar of liquor, breathing deeply.
—"Is everything done, Father?" Ren asked with a soft voice.
Ozai wasn't surprised. He was already expecting him.
—"Yes," the Fire Lord replied. "Ursa will leave tonight. Forever."
Ren lowered his head with a sad expression… perfectly executed.
—"She… didn't understand your vision."
—"She was becoming an obstacle," Ozai corrected. "She was poisoning the wrong child."
Ren felt a shiver of satisfaction. But he kept his mask intact.
—"Should I say something to my siblings…?" he asked with innocence.
—"No. They won't notice her absence until tomorrow. And by then, it will be too late."
Ren nodded.
—"Father…" he whispered, "I will always be by your side. I will do what the others cannot."
Ozai placed a hand on his shoulder. A gesture that, in any other family, would mean affection. In this one… it meant pact.
—"And that is why I need you," he said with cruel sincerity.
Ren bowed his head.
"A tool that doesn't fulfill its role is condemned to be a sacrifice." Ursa had failed. And Ren… had been the one who sharpened the knife.
That night, while clouds covered the moon, Ursa abandoned the palace. Some would say it was by her own will. Others, that it was out of love for her children. Ren knew the truth: Ursa had left because he found the perfect way to remove her from the board.
The next day.
Hallway near the palace's inner garden.
Zuko was sitting against a pillar, knees pulled up, eyes swollen. He had cried so much he had no tears left, just ragged breathing and a pain he couldn't understand. Ren appeared without making a sound. He stopped at his side without saying anything, watching the garden wet from the rain.
Zuko spoke first, his voice broken:
—"Mom left…"
Ren didn't look at him. He knew that if he showed direct compassion, Zuko would break down even more and stop listening. So he said what the boy needed to open up:
—"I know."
Silence. Zuko swallowed.
—"Will she… come back?"
Ren finally turned his head to him. He put on a sad, but controlled expression, the kind of expression that makes a child think: he understands this better than I do.
—"Sometimes, Zuko…" he said softly, "some people leave when they feel like… they no longer have a place here."
Zuko frowned, confused.
—"What… what do you mean?"
Ren looked at the ground, as if hesitating to reveal a painful truth.
—"Mother… was changing. Lately she argued a lot with Father. You heard it, didn't you?"
Zuko lowered his head. The memories were blurry, but yes: muffled shouts behind closed doors.
—"I… thought they were just tense," he whispered.
Ren took a deep breath, as if speaking hurt him.
—"Father always tried to do what was best for the family. But lately…" he lowered his voice, "Mother didn't trust his decisions. Nor you. Nor Azula."
Zuko opened his eyes wide.
—"D-didn't she trust me…?"
Ren looked at him directly. He knew the wound was open.
—"She loved you, Zuko… but she was afraid. She thought… you weren't ready to be strong."
The boy clenched his fists.
—"I am! I can train more! I can prove it!"
Ren tilted his head, like someone lamenting something inevitable.
—"Maybe that's why she left. Because she couldn't accept how things are changing. And Father…" he made a significant pause, "he is very affected."
Zuko raised his head.
—"Really?"
—"Even if he doesn't show it," Ren whispered, "he is hurt. Losing the person who supported him… leaves him more alone than ever."
Zuko pressed his lips together hard.
Ren dropped the key phrase:
—"Perhaps… what Father needs now… is a son who stays by his side. One who won't disappoint him."
Zuko breathed tremulously. And Ren knew he already had him.
—"I want… I want him to be proud of me," Zuko whispered. "I want him to see that… I can handle it."
Ren placed a hand on his shoulder.
—"Then start today."
At that moment, Ren had already planted what was necessary: guilt toward his mother, a need for Ozai's approval, and emotional dependence on himself.
Later that day.
Private training room.
Azula was throwing fireballs at the targets with impeccable precision, but her breathing was fast and tense. Ren entered without announcing himself. The girl saw him and gritted her teeth, forcing herself to maintain her perfect posture.
—"Don't look at me like that," she growled. "I'm not crying."
Ren approached with absolute calm.
—"I never said you were. Besides… you don't cry. You think."
Azula froze. It was exactly what she wanted to hear.
—"Mother left because she wasn't strong enough," Ren said, dropping the bomb without softening it. His tone wasn't mocking, but cold and logical. And that made it more believable.
Azula blinked.
—"That's what I thought too," she replied slowly. "She… never understood what it means to be a princess of the Fire Nation."
Ren smiled just a little.
—"Exactly. She was afraid of your power."
Azula lifted her chin.
—"Obviously she was."
Ren walked in a circle around her, like a master evaluating a student.
—"But there is something else you need to understand, Azula. Father is more alone than ever."
The girl's golden eyes trembled barely.
—"And… why does that matter?"
Ren leaned toward her, whispering as if revealing a forbidden secret:
—"When a leader is alone, he trusts those who understand him. Those who can keep up with him. Those who are strong enough to walk beside him."
Azula held her breath. Ren continued with a soft but venomous voice:
—"Zuko will always seek affection. He will always doubt. He will always be… weak."
Azula smiled. Not out of happiness. Out of superiority.
—"I know," she said with absolute certainty.
—"But you," Ren added, "you can be what Father needs. His perfect heir. The only one capable of filling the void Ursa left. If you wish…" he took a step back, allowing her to process the power of the phrase, "you can become his absolute pride."
Azula clenched her fingers, excited, ambitious.
—"I want that. I want him to only look at me."
Ren watched as the blue fire danced around her hands. And he said the final phrase, the one that sealed his influence:
—"Then don't disappoint him. Nor question him. Nor contradict him. Be what he wants to see… and he will have you forever."
Azula nodded with ferocity.
—"I will."
Ren smiled silently as she resumed her attacks, each fireball more intense than the last. He had achieved what he wanted: Zuko now desperately sought the approval of a father who would never love him. Azula would now become the perfect daughter for a man incapable of being a father. And both, without knowing it, depended on Ren to interpret that chaos.