Ursa awoke in the embrace of her beloved.
He brushed a stray hair away from her gaze and smiled. Her heart squeezed itself against her too small chest, filled to bursting and so full of all the things she wanted, needed, and would have killed for. Joy was too sweet a poison to let go. A moment was all it took to bring her back through to all those years ago when they'd first met all the way to that fateful night she'd resigned to her fate.
"Ikem," she spoke his name like a prayer answered, and dug herself deeper into the covers that still had his scent.
"We can't stay long," he said with a soft nudge.
She looked up and saw the light that always cradled her with its gentle warmth, the same one that had been there since she first realized how her inner fire danced and flared with, to, and for him. The years had not been kind to him, the wrinkles of worry there for the world to see, just as the years had been cruel to her. Love lost and found again was not meant for long in this world.
Not when she was already someone else.
"I know," she said.
It was wrong, she knew. She'd always known. But she needed to do so even then. He always gave her everything she wanted. So she took what she'd always known she wanted. His first touch were embers glowing against her long cold skin.
The plays spoke of love like a destiny fulfilled, like it was the stars in the sky aligned while rainbows bridged the lovers apart back together. She knew better than to listen to the well-wishers and fortunate.
Love was a writhing, demanding, insatiable thing that wouldn't let her look away from the person she'd become. Love was a daughter bargained for the lives of her parents and imprisoned in all the ways that mattered. Love was an unfathomable, endless depth that swallowed all light and the seas and oceans and everything the Ursa before her used to be.
Love was asking the one person she could still hold onto do something that broke his heart. He'd never married, he told her, not that it mattered. Not anymore.
"I need to get back at the theatre soon."
Ikem rose from the bed—her fingers still locked in his. She let him slip away. Ursa couldn't keep him any more than Ozai had her heart. It had always been his choice to stay, she just chose for him to live on through the pain she'd had to live through.
Ozai believed himself a dragon when he was only a snake spitting water thin venom. He said her Ikem died the night she bore the two, the grief had taken her so thoroughly she'd let him have her that night. But he never had her heart, because he could only ever see the stars above him and never the forest stood on the ground he was crawling on.
Ikem left her quarters through the window like a thief with a clutch of pearls, but instead only kept what truly mattered.
The rest of the day was a blur.
A consequence of taking in the other nations within the Fire's dominion, besides the occasional banditry, was a need to enrich the cultural heritage of a growing, united people. The Fire Lord asked her to lead the creation of new stories that all peoples could see and appreciate, together if possible. Plays used in her humble village used to be about virtuous dragons and thieving evil water spirits, but now they needed a more politically correct depiction of the classics.
It was easier back when the world was black and white, even when all there really was was red.
Besides plays there also needed to be more songs, poems, statues, paintings, and dances and festivals and all other manners of things people could experience together with each other regardless of heritage for they were all now one people—even coerced.
The boy was his father's son, but she wouldn't hold that against him.
Ursa later met with the director of the troupe in charge of bringing one of these new plays to life—a certain man now known as Noren but she'd always known as Ikem. There was much discussed behind closed doors and more work done, and would continue to be needed done. Discreet were the ways of the court, knowing yet unseen, of honor among thieves.
Surprise came one day in the form of a simple reminder.
"Mother," her daughter said, "please make sure Zuzu never finds out."
She said nothing, because there was no need. Zuko was never meant to know. Even if she knew her daughter already her own thoughts in the matter.
"It's your decision, mom, life's too short to spend unhappy." Her youngest neither voiced his disagreement or support, only saying that her choice was what mattered in the end.
Open secrets, the ones everyone already knew but never talked about, the kinds of secrets that some who couldn't live with the truth turned to for comfort or to fill the missing holes in the hearts.
Her nights had been warmer ever since she'd met Ikem again.
Another day much later, she presented what the troupes had amongst the ones ready for first watch: The Prince and the Fire, The Snow Princess, The Earthenware Man, The Armadillo-Lion and the Elephant-Mouse.
Another day after she had an extended practice with the troupe handling The Prince and the Fire. A troupe that hailed from the humble little village of Hira'a. The practice took them all though the night getting the beats of the story to perfection. Putting the finishing touches on any piece was always the hardest.
The court was always a delicate balance between duty and needs and things that needed no mentioning.
It was another tiring night when she'd caught him staring at her again in that way as if the stars shone in her eyes.
"We can just run away, you know," he said.
And she knew that. Her children would survive—were surviving and would continue to do so even after she'd left, if ever. The twins wouldn't ever let anything happen to Zuko—even her. He might hate her, and she could accept that. To be human was to make a stand regardless of whatever was right or wrong, to choose what we wanted because we can and owed it to ourselves to be who we were. He was a terrible little boy for spouting such careless ideals.
But Ursa could never hate any of her children.
"I want to, I really do. But I have things I need to do and can't let go off."
Ikem wrapped an arm around her. "You know I'll always have your back."
She took his hand and held it against her. "I know you will."
Right or wrong mattered, but happiness mattered to even if that must come at the cost of the suffering of others. Ursa couldn't accept how her own happiness was taken from her for so long, but she also couldn't shake the guilt of how Zuko would take it. Azula and Raizu would understand in their own ways. They already knew what she was doing. Everyone who mattered already knew what she was doing.
Except the one person who would get hurt.
And what was she to do? To weigh her happiness against the illusion of a happy family? There was also the option to tell her son about… whatever this was. But he wasn't like twins. He was her dear sweet boy who was loved by the turtle ducks and hugger her to sleep when he'd had bad dreams.
Ursa could wait to tell her boy the whole truth later, but she couldn't deny the choice she'd always wanted to make.