A/N: This is a story that attacked my brain while I was wondering why Zuko's daughter would name her son Iroh. She would've had to have known him.

I tried to leave the identity of Zuko's wife up in the air, because of events that occurred in The Promise Part 2.

Somebody said to me that Zuko's daughter's name is Honora. I would like to point out that "Honora" is merely her fanon name, it is not official. So I chose to give her a different name, because I don't like the name "Honora".

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. I also took the liberty of making up a name for Zuko's daughter, since Mike and Bryan haven't given us name yet.

Remembrance

She is a week old, new the world, unaware of almost everything, she will not remember this moment that is so important in her life.

"She's a beautiful little girl Zuko." Iroh states as he watches his nephew cradling his daughter.

The young Fire Lord gives a small smile, but doesn't look away from the baby in his arms, completely enchanted by her. "She really is."

Iroh comes to stand beside Zuko, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Have you picked a name for her yet?"

It is now Zuko turns to his uncle, the man who is basically his father. "Actually, I want you to name her."

Iroh looks shocked. "Me? But she's your daughter Zuko. What does her mother think of this idea?"

"She agrees with me. We think it would be an honor. And we're not taking no for an answer."

Iroh sighs. "All right, I wouldn't want the child to go through life without a name."

"Here." Zuko holds out the precious little bundle for his uncle to carefully take, and cradle himself.

She looks up at Iroh with her father's golden eyes, staring at him curiously.

"Iris." Iroh says after a moment.

Zuko's smile widens. "It's perfect."

She is four, and is climbing out of the crater that the Fire Nation capital is nestled in.

She will likely get in trouble later, but right now all that matters is reaching the top and seeing what's outside the city. Her mother has always told her that she would be able to start traveling with her parents when she turned five, but that's just too long to wait to see the world.

When she reaches the top and stands near the edge, her gold eyes widen as she drinks in everything she sees. There is the harbor, where the tiny forms of guards patrol the shore, and there is the vast ocean, which she has only ever heard about from Katara, her father's friend.

"Iris!"

With a gasp, she hides behind a rock, hoping that the person does not find her.

"Iris, I know you are up here." It is her great-uncle's voice.

She merely stays where she is, holding her breath.

But of course he finds her. "Iris, what are you doing?"

She sighs and stands. "I wanted to see what was at the top of the crater. I'm sorry."

Iroh smiles. "You're lucky I noticed you were gone before anyone else. Your father would likely not let you in the palace for a week." And to her surprise, he offers her his hand, with no scolding words. "Come on, we'll just pretend this never happened. But you have to promise not to go exploring again without someone with you."

She blinks and takes his rough and strong hand. "I promise."

She is six, and just beginning to learn to firebend.

She has teachers, trainers, children her age to spar with, but she prefers to have her father teach her, or when her father is too busy, to have her great-uncle instruct her.

That's what she is doing now, practicing a basic form under the watchful eye of her great-uncle.

"Check your stance." He calls to her, standing a few feet away.

"Can't we just move on to the next form?" She asks, tired of doing the same move over and over.

Iroh motions for her to come to him, and she does, as he kneels before her. "Iris, you must understand, fire is a volatile and powerful element. It takes much control and discipline to control. You must be adept at any one move before learning the next. Do you understand?"

She looks down, her face burning. "Yes great-uncle."

"Now, now, don't be ashamed. I understand your eagerness, your father was exactly the same way when he was young."

She snaps her head up. "Really?" Her father is so patient and even tempered, at least when she was in his company.

Iroh nods. "It took years, but he learned to be patient and to control his power. You will too. Just give it time." He gets to his feet. "Now, I think that's enough practicing. Why don't we go have some tea and play Pai-Sho?"

Her eyes light up, for although she never has beaten him, she loves playing the game with Iroh. She also has gained his love jasmine tea.

She is ten and visiting her great-uncle in Ba Sing Se, without her parents.

She loves helping him in his teashop, and adores staying in his roomy apartment, which she believes is the most comfortable and safe place in the world, even more so than her chamber in the large palace at home.

She enjoys his stories of his adventures, and she notices how sad he gets whenever he mentions the time he spent trying to take Ba Sing Se. She always wonders why, but doesn't want to ask.

One day, Iroh takes her to a hill in the outer ring of the city. He is silent the whole trip, and so is she, sensing the air of unstable emotion around him.

When they reach the hill, she sees a neatly stacked pile of rocks, and a faded picture, which holds the image of a strong faced and serious young man. Iroh places the basket he has brought with them on the ground and replaces the old picture with a new one, of the exact same man, and places incense on both sides of it.

"Great-uncle?" She finally questions softly.

"The picture is that of your cousin, Lu Ten, my son. He died when I lead the attack on Ba Sing Se."

She stares at the picture, at the serious yet warm eyes. "He looks so handsome." She remarks.

Iroh merely nods. "He was a fine boy."

She notices the silent tears on her great-uncle face. "I'm sure he knew you loved him."

Iroh gives a half laugh at her statement, which is so unlike anything a normal child would say.

She is thirteen and following her great-uncle down a dark and warm hallway in the prison she was never allowed to visit.

Her father had relented to let her go with Iroh, to see her grandfather, to see Ozai. She was frightened, she would admit, but she felt she had to see him; she had to know the man who had destroyed his own family, and who had almost destroyed the world.

They reach the cell and a guard unlocks the door, warning them that the prisoner is short tempered. They enter, and it takes a moment for her eyes to get used to the dimness of the cell.

After a moment she can see a man sitting with his back against the wall. This man is tall, and strong, with angular cheekbones and black hair streaked largely with silver. His eyes are cold, empty, and murderous.

"I see my brother has sought fit to visit me, after all these years." The man growls in a raspy voice, which was once probably intimidating.

"I didn't come to see you." Iroh replies simply.

"Then why did you come?"

"Your granddaughter wanted to meet you."

She steps up to where he will be able to see her clearly, her mouth open slightly, in awe and curiosity. "I'm Iris." She states softly.

The man, her grandfather, snorts. "Why would you want to meet me? Haven't you heard awful stories from your father about me?"

"And from most people." She says.

"Then why?"

"I had to see for myself. I had to see what kind of man would be willing to kill his child, would dismantle the world, would put so much pressure on his daughter that she lost her mind."

He is silent, but their golden eyes stay locked together, as if challenging the other to look away first.

Without shame, she relents. "I'm ready to go great-uncle."

She takes the hand he holds out to her and they leave the cell. She doesn't speak again until they are outside. "Great-uncle?"

"Yes Iris?"

"…I…I won't turn out like him or Aunt Azula will I?" She mutters, voicing a fear she has held for a long time.

Iroh stops dead in his tracks, causing her to halt too. He stares at her, his expression unreadable. "Iris, listen to me, and listen well. It is true you share the bloodline of people who were cruel and cold, but the blood of good people runs in your veins as well. Your great great grandfather Avatar Roku, your grandmother Ursa, who sacrificed everything for her son, and your father, who changed the Fire Nation. The power is within you to follow the path of those who did good."

She is silent, taking in his words, her eyes downcast. "…Including you." She whispers. She glances at Iroh, thinking he hasn't heard her, but his surprised eyes say otherwise.

Iroh takes her and hugs her to him, and she wraps her arms around his neck, feeling so safe and so loved in his arms.

She is fifteen and unashamedly crying as she watches her great-uncle growing weaker and weaker before her eyes.

Why did he have to get sick? Why him? Why not her awful aunt Azula, who even after regaining her sanity was still so cold? Why somebody so loved by so many people? Why somebody so wonderful?

"Please, please don't leave great-uncle." She pleads.

Somehow he finds it in himself to smile at her, take her hand. "I'm not leaving you Iris, not really. I'll see you again, don't doubt that. It will just be a while."

"I don't want to wait."

"Still impatient." He says in an amused voice, still smiling at her from his place among the luxurious pillows. "It will be all right Iris. I can be with you anytime you want me to. All you have to do is think of me, a memory, a story I told you, anything."

She bites her lip hard, resisting her tears. "I love you."

"And I love you, Iris. I am so proud of you."

Those words, words expressing pride in her, coming from someone who it means so much to hear say it, lead to another wave of tears from her, and she finds it impossible to keep them in check.

It's then her mother comes to put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's go Iris, and give your father sometime alone with his uncle."

She gives her great-uncle's hand one last squeeze and follows her mother out, forcing herself not to look back. As soon as she's in the hallway, she dashes away before her mother can protest, and locks herself in her room, crying hot tears and sobbing painfully.

She sinks to the floor, letting her tears exhaust themselves, before she goes to her dresser and stares at the ink painting hanging above it, the ink painting of Iroh, the eyes that looked upon her so warmly and lovingly her entire life looming before her. "I'll never forget. Never." She vows.

She is twenty-three-years-old and looking down at her new baby son, her husband sitting beside her, pride gleaming in his eyes.

"He's gorgeous Iris." He says.

She looks at her husband, a smirk playing over her lips, despite how exhausted she is. "Of course he is. Good looks run in his family."

Her husband slightly shakes his head, smiling gently. "So what are we going to name him?"

She looks back at the baby boy, his eyes as gold as his mother's and his grandfather's. As his great-great-uncle's. She remembers that her great-uncle had given her her name. She remembers the loving feeling that his name holds for her. She knows what her child's name is, what it has to be. "Iroh."

Her husband smiles, and nods in agreement, being a great admirer of the great general. "Iroh it is."

The End

A/N: Forgive me if the age I put for how old Iris was when Iroh was born is wrong. I didn't really want to put the time into doing the math, and it might've turned out to be wrong anyway.

Just a reminder, Iris is not the official name of Zuko's daughter; it is only one I made up for the sake of this fan fiction.