I know I told y'all it'd be up within the week, but that nasty storm system that hit Arkansas and Tennessee so bad delayed a lot of my internet activity. Hard to update when you don't have power or reliable internet. (:

Anyway, this is the final chapter of the story, an epilogue of sorts. It, after the previous chapter, was one of the most emotional things I've ever written. This is the first work I've started and the first I've finished. I am grateful that each of you took the time to read this, and I hope this provides a satisfying end to the tale.

Also, if there's enough interest, I might add an appendix of sorts. A lot of my characters have backstories and their own tales and some of my ideas about how the Fire Nation operates in this story might be interesting to read. Let me know if it's worth writing.

Thank you for reading and thank you for the support.
Karynna

Some idiot had told Iroh that the pain would lessen over time. That the hurt from the loss of his best friend, his lover, his wife, would eventually fade away. Foolishly, he hoped for such release. He prayed to every guiding spirit he knew for relief from the burning, hollow pain that tortured him so.

But it was a most hideous lie. The pain didn't go away. It grew easier to manage, like a cripple slowly learning to limp along, but the pain never went away. If anything, it got worse.

Some days, Iroh limped on marvelously, able to restrain his feelings and to move on with the day. But then there were days—horrible, evil days—that knocked him to his knees, leaving him begging for some sort of end. Any sort of end.

Iroh stopped drinking tea the very next morning. Nobody could make it like Zania did, not that he cared to try. Tea was their connection, their bond. How could he celebrate it without her?

Iroh started drinking liquor the day Lu Ten learned how to ask questions. He wanted to erase his memory, try to forget the way those pretty eyes—Zania's eyes—widened with curiosity as the little boy observed the women of the court tending to their children. "Why don't I have a mama?" he asked so innocently. Iroh couldn't find an answer and his son soon had another question. "Why are you crying, Daddy?"

The alcohol didn't work, so Iroh tried a change in scenery. The military was an easy calling for a man so well-trained in the art of war, and battle provided a bitter escape. Adventure after adventure began to bring Iroh recognition beyond what his birth could give him, and he traveled to the many cities of the Fire Nation for parades and recruiting. All that pomp and circumstance couldn't save him from the haunted gaze of a young firedancer desperately trying to gain the attention of his troops. The bartender cautiously cut him off two hours after midnight, surprised any man could last so long drinking the way he did. But this was Prince Iroh, and surely he had better endurance than common folk.

The choice to hunt the last of the dragons was easy to make. Dragons were notoriously fierce; many men had died in the pursuit and Iroh wanted to join them. To join Zania. So he left his men behind, bravely and foolishly making the attempt alone. He said that he wanted no help so that nobody would doubt he deserved the honor. He really just didn't want anybody to save him.

But Iroh didn't die. He didn't even fight the dragons. He saw them bending as he stalked them and he couldn't help the sobs that overtook him. The way that the dragons flowed around the fire and moved with grace was too much like the way she bended. The great beasts heard his cries and found his heart to be pure, though shattered into innumerable pieces. They took compassion on him and his broken heart, taking him amongst the Sun Warriors and teaching him how to bend like the dragons. Like Zania.

Iroh's heart began to heal. It would never mend, but the gaping wounds began to scab over and the bleeding stopped. The pain stopped growing, stopped draining him of his energy and life. He returned to the palace, finding Lu Ten much larger than he was before, and more like his mother every day.

But instead of finding despair in the way Zania's son took after her, he found hope. He loved the way that Lu Ten brought his mother back to life in the oddest, most perfect ways. He marveled at the joy that the little boy brought him and embraced the role of father quite well, finding it more natural than he had anticipated. Life was beginning to look so much better. Perhaps not easier, but more enjoyable, more livable. Iroh even traded the firewater for tea every once in a while, sipping it slowly as he watched Lu Ten nap at his side.

All that blooming content was dashed in a single day. Iroh kneeled at his brother's side as Ozai desperately tried to remember the ancient vows. Ursa had never looked so dazzling than that morning in the temple as she recited her vows with ease. That wretched, cursed temple. It took every ounce of strength Iroh had not to destroy the world around him. His strength ran out soon enough, and he had to borrow some from the sake Zhao poured with uncharacteristic kindness.

The next year drizzled by in agony. Lu Ten watched in horror as his daddy slowly became a recluse, withdrawing from all the things that caused him pain. It was never enough for Iroh—he couldn't withdraw from himself—and the pain and the liquor turned him into an angry, violent man. He rekindled his old sparring partnership with Zhao, who frequently left the arena before the matches were even over, leaving Iroh to recklessly burn all he could find.

It was pain again that brought him out of his demented reverie. A sharp, physical pain delivered most aptly by the new Princess. Ursa had stormed into his chambers one day, slapping Iroh smartly across the face.

She slapped him again, trying to rouse him. "Iza would be ashamed of you."

"How dare you?" he growled, taking her fragile wrist in his hand. "Don't you dare pretend you knew my wife." Iroh dropped her hand and turned his back to her, growling, "Get out."

She didn't leave. "Do you know what Lu Ten said to me yesterday?" No response. "He told me that he wished Uncle Ozai was his daddy, because Uncle Ozai can remember his birthday." No response. "He told me that his real daddy didn't love him. That he didn't know how to love." Ursa could see the sobs shake Iroh's body before he even knew they were there. She continued softly, placing a slender hand on his brawny shoulder. "I know those things aren't true. You know how to love. Probably better than the rest of us ever will. I know you loved her, Iroh, and I know it hurts you for her to be gone. But you can't ignore the child she left behind. She died for that little boy, Iroh. Don't let that go to waste. Don't dishonor her like this."

He fell to the ground, weeping in Ursa's sisterly arms. Neither noticed Ozai open the door and peer in to find his brother in his wife's arms. Neither noticed the snarl in his voice as he led little Lu Ten back down the hall, nor the sound of the door closing behind him.

Iroh never drank again. He suffered the urge to disappear into a drunken haze with determination. When Lu Ten began to bend, naturally imitating his mother, Iroh resisted the demon, fighting it down with affection and praise for his son. When the great and beautiful Fire Lady Ila passed away in her sleep, Iroh struggled to mourn his mother without sinking into the depths of the bottle. When Ursa's belly began to distend with the beautiful blessing of motherhood, Iroh refused to drink himself into oblivion with his surprisingly unhappy brother. When little Zuko came kicking and screaming into the world, Iroh turned down the traditional celebratory glass, preferring a sweet jasmine tea. Zania's favorite.

Iroh found delight in the Zuko's infancy, having missed the opportunity to experience it with his own son. His nephew and his son soon became the center of his world and he spent every spare moment away from court with the little boys, basking in their purity. He learned how to be the jovial man he had once been despite the heavy heart he still struggled to carry in his chest. Everything and anything reminded him of Zania, but he learned to transfer his love for her to the people and objects and places that sparked so many painful memories.

Zania's best friends became Iroh's favorite little sisters. Rong had married a young lieutenant who was rapidly advancing in the military. When the woman wasn't at her husband's side in battle, she hung around the palace and provided an excellent sparring opponent with her brusque tomboy attitude and no-nonsense bending. Iroh found her to be an astute observer of the court, able to see through all the bull and frivolity to the heart of the matter and the true intentions of the lords and ladies.

Little Ursa continued to teach Iroh how to be a parent and how to manage the pain in his life. He adored his sister-in-law, though he became increasingly concerned with the way that Ozai looked at her, especially when she was with Zuko or Iroh. When he walked in to find Ozai's fist reared back to hit his wife, Iroh stormed through the room, pinning his brother to the wall as Ursa fled.

"I should have expected you here, protecting her. You always were a traitor, Iroh," the younger brother spat. "I heard you talking to her late in the night so long ago. She never came to see me when I was sick, but she was there for you. When Iza came along, I thought my problems were solved, but we know better, don't we, brother? She wasn't quite what you were expecting, was she? I should have known you would be left craving a real lady of the court. I never could quite trust you; I never should have trusted you. All you've ever given me was a weak title and a weak son."

"What are you talking about, Ozai?" Iroh hissed, searching his brother's face for anything other than malice. He found jealousy, anger, insanity, but couldn't figure out what in the name of Roku he was talking about. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are that your wife is here with you? That she loves you and always has? Those nights when you were sick, she sat with me trying to find the courage to come see you. Her entire world revolved around you, Ozai; it always has." He shook his head, his eyes glazing over with worn memories and wishes. "I would give every title I have to have what you have, brother. To have my wife by my side and to spend time with my son from the very start. I would give everything."

Ozai bared his teeth, snarling. "No point," he growled. "You already have it."

It would be years before Iroh finally understood that conversation. He never saw Ozai hit Ursa again, so he pushed the worries from his mind and returned to the life he was still learning how to enjoy. Though the pain never left him, there were so many things to be thankful for—the successful war, his new little niece, a good cup of tea—that Iroh became more and more like the young man he once was, before that awful trip through hell.

Lu Ten remained the light of Iroh's life. He taught him all the things a father should teach a son. Iroh took pride in the impressive way that his son learned how to fight with both sword and flame. Lu Ten was a natural talent at these things, just like his father. And just like his father, he had a smooth sort of charm with the girls. He danced like his mother though, strong and graceful.

When Lu Ten was old enough to join him, Iroh returned to the battlefield, earning the rank of general through hard work and pure skill. Father and son excelled in every battle, working together like a well oiled machine. Between the two sons of the Golden Flame, nothing could stand and city after city fell to their graceful triumph. Lu Ten showed great promise as a leader of the military forces. The men loved and respected him just as they did his father because he treated them with love and respect.

The same cruel hand of destiny that had taken Zania away revisited Iroh all too soon.

The Siege of Ba Sing Se had been a military wonder, partially devised by Lu Ten himself. Another five days, and the city would have crumbled before them. Not a single life would be lost in battle.

But a group of Earthbenders designed a last ditch effort to shake off the Fire Nation invaders, striking the division Lu Ten had been leading for three months. Lu Ten refused to sit back and watch battles from afar like other officers; he found no honor in letting other men die for him when he was supposed to be leading them to victory and glory and life. So he was on the front lines, shouting encouragement and orders. He was on the front lines, holding back the rebel Earthbenders so that a messenger could alert his father. He was on the front lines, rushing to push one of his men, a father of three, out of the way of an oncoming boulder. He was on the front lines, selflessly giving his life for another, just like his mother.

Iroh withdrew the army immediately, retreating into his country and his despair. The broken man returned to an equally broken palace. Mourning white draped the capital city as the people of the Fire Nation grieved the loss of first their Prince, and then their Lord. Azulon had died like his wife, quietly in his sleep, but not before naming Ozai as his heir. That same night, Ursa had disappeared, leaving gentle Zuko and wily Azula to the mercy of their father.

Looking back, Iroh would realize that those two had saved his life. Upon arriving at home, Iroh had started to believe that he had nothing left to live for. But then little laughing Azula knocked on his door, asking if he would help her find Zuko. They searched the halls in earnest, finally finding the boy in the garden with the little turtle ducks.

Another pain shot through Iroh's heart as he remembered Iza's voice teasing him for his fondness for the little creatures, but Zuko's tiny sobs brought him back to the present. Azula ran away impatiently as her uncle comforted her brother, but Iroh found he could never leave. Zuko was his last connection to humanity; Iroh would never let go.

Zuko reminded Iroh so much of himself, so much of Zania, so much of Ursa. It was hard for him to find any trace of Ozai in the gentle boy, but then, Iroh didn't quite recognize his brother anymore. Ozai's vicious rampages through the Earth Kingdom and the Southern Water Tribe seemed so far removed from the quiet young man that had once been the forgotten Prince. Power had driven the Fire Lord to the brink of insanity, coupled with a cruelness stemming from the loss of the balancing presence of Ursa. It seemed that the whole world would soon fall victim to his madness.

Yet, through careful contact with his wife's old Firebending master, Iroh found that he wasn't alone in fearing the worst of Ozai's intentions. The very notion that other people shared his concerns, people from all over the world, had shocked Iroh. Gratefully, he accepted their companionship and the brotherhood of the ancient order. He began to learn from them, to find solace in the solemn ritual and history.

When Zuko was thirteen, Iroh finally realized the full extent of his brother's madness. He tried every bit of reasoning he knew to try to dissuade Ozai from forcing Zuko into an Agni Kai with a full grown man, but nothing worked and when Iroh saw the Fire Lord step from the shadows, his heart broke for his young nephew. He watched in horror as Zuko begged for mercy, tears running down his pale cheeks. Ozai's voice held a dangerous tone Iroh hadn't heard since the time Iroh had stopped him from hitting Ursa, and a distinct chill ran down his spine as Ozai's eyes flicked to his brother and back to his son, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

That night, as he held his quietly sobbing nephew, Iroh remembered the pain in Zania's eyes as Iza finally relented and told the truth behind the scar she bore. He never fully realized the horror she must have felt as she had burnt her own skin, but now, with Zuko in his arms, he relived her pain through his.

The next three years were a blur of endless searching—Zuko searching the world for the Avatar, Zuko searching the world for himself, Iroh searching the world for traces of his wife. Their searches led them to the strangest places, places had never been able to enjoy as a conqueror, but Iroh could still find little pieces of Zania's heart in every port. Little trinkets and new varieties of tea brought her to life everywhere they went; everywhere they went, he saw her.

It was impossible to explain to Zuko just how much the spontaneous shopping trips meant to his fuddy Uncle Iroh, but the truth was that Iroh drew strength and patience from finding his wife in the world, the strength and patience he needed to stay by his nephew's side in their exile. Even once they found the long lost Avatar and Zuko's hope and determination had been renewed, Iroh still couldn't face a day without the reinforcing presence of his wife's memory.

Zania was with him through it all, through every moment of the war against his brother. From the cold battle in the north to the dark crystal caves in Ba Sing Se to the final flaming battle to finally finding his little sister-in-law, Iroh carried her with him in every word, every step and every breath. But it would be years before the pain finally ended.

Iroh sat quietly in a wooden chair on the balcony where Zania had last seen the sun. The ocean was still, and the waves were nearly silent as the red sky started to fade to black. He lifted his tea cup to his lips, breathing in the jasmine as he let the liquid slide into his mouth.

"Jasmine was her favorite," he slurred quietly as he stared into the sky.

"Whose favorite, Uncle?" Zuko asked, worriedly scanning his uncle's tired body.

"Zania's."

Zuko shook his head, confused, but said nothing. Iroh had been slipping in and out of the world lately, often speaking of, or to, some woman that nobody had ever heard of. Ursa had told Zuko to let Iroh talk, that there were memories that an old man needed to be lost in at a time like this. So when Iroh asked to see the ocean, Zuko had ordered the court to move to the slowly rebuilding Avatar's Temple for the summer, hoping it would bring Iroh back.

Instead, Iroh had fallen further into his own world, barely registering anything but the sun, the ocean, and jasmine tea. He spent his days on this balcony, watching the tide come in and flow out and watching the sun rise and set. Zuko had a sinking feeling that there would be little else left for Iroh.

But Iroh had no such dread. He was happier and more at peace than Zuko had ever seen him, especially now, as he was again lost in the sunset.

Zuko looked at the sky, wondering what it was that captivated Iroh. And suddenly, it hit him that Iroh had lived through more than what Zuko had seen, that Iroh had been young once, had been married once, had been in love once. He had never considered what his uncle's life was like when he was young, but could now see that Iroh had lived through much more pain and heartbreak and life than he had let Zuko believe.

With new understanding, Zuko looked back at his uncle, who had barely moved but sat now with his eyes closed. His frail hand still held the cup and saucer and there was still a hazy smile on his lips, but Zuko could see.

Ursa found them there, Iroh still looking with closed eyes out over the ocean, and Zuko kneeling before his uncle, head bowed in grief. She pulled her son to his feet, and together they left the balcony, leaving the Dragon of the West as he finally found peace by Zania's side.