Author note:

For all of you who liked the perfect happy ending a little warning: This epilogue is a bit bitter sweet (not terribly so, I think, but still). If any of you prefer stopping now, your choice :), but I always intended for this epilogue and the scene was always fixed. One of the very first ones to be decided in fact... (You can find a hint for this epilogue in the prologue...)

"Great-grandmother?" Her little legs carried her easily as the young girl skipped along the step-stones. "Great-grandmother, where are we going?"

Only a short distance in front of her, Ursa's Great-grandmother slowly moved along the woven path. Despite the uneven ground and her failing eyesight, the old woman found her path easily. She seemed to know it well, though Ursa herself had never been here before. She had been surprised when her great-grandmother had asked her to accompany her today. She rarely went out these days.

"I want you to meet someone, Ursa. So come along." The voice was rough, breaking up from time to time. Age had made her brittle. Ursa had never known her Great-grandmother any differently, but her parents sometimes told her of times past. Once, she had been a great warrior. Her blue eyes and dark skin had made her into an exotic beauty, who was well known in all the lands. But even more than her looks it had been her actions which every child was told of. She was – that's what everyone at least claimed – a 'living legend'.

Ursa wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean. All she knew was that Lady Katara had always seemed to have a keen interest in her. She was the stern but kind Great-grandmother, who had first noticed that Ursa was a waterbender. She was the only other waterbender still alive in the royal family, except for Lady Katara herself. Lady Katara once mentioned that she had had a son, who was also a waterbender, but he had died long ago in some accident. Ursa couldn't quite remember his name – the family was simply too big:

She had an older sister and two younger brothers and her father had several siblings – each with children of their own. Her father's father too, had had four siblings, with children and grandchildren. And that was only the royal family. On top of that came her mother's and Grandmother's siblings with – again – children. Simply put: Ursa had never really tried to keep track of them all.

"Come along now, Ursa. Don't dawdle." Her Great-grandmother called.

She hadn't even noticed that she had stopped to look at one of the lanterns that decorated the small path and now rushed to catch up.

It was a rather bewitched path, which they were climbing. They had left the capital in the early morning, but by now Agni had almost reached it's highest peak and they were still traveling. If they had been allowed to ride, they would have certainly progressed much faster, but Great-grandmother had forbidden it. 'This is sacred ground, after all!' Her Great-grandmother had informed her.

Not that Ursa minded. Quite the opposite. She loved the nature and was glad for any time which she was allowed to spend away from the stuffy palace. She certainly wasn't anxious to return to her studies and as long as Great-grandmother wished to keep her out, no one, not even Grandfather would say anything against it. One did not – as perhaps the firmest rule in their family – go against Great-grandmother. She had never met anyone who went against Great-grandmother.

So if Great-grandmother wanted to spend the day slowly walking up a mountain, that was just fine with Ursa. In fact her own mother had told her that it was a great honor that Great-grandmother had chosen her to come along on this excursion.

The walk was pretty enough. Every once in while they would pass a large stone monument. Most of them seemed old, but they were still well cared for, giving Ursa plenty to look at. The path smelled of incense, and wherever she looked she could see offerings to the ancestors: Fruit and rice and sake was piled high on the trays. Great-grandmother only stopped, when they finally reached the peak of the small mountain. The trees had been cut down so that the top was completely open and it was possible to look over the surrounding areas freely. On the highest spot stood the so far largest monument. It consisted of one very high stone pillar with several other pillars of various sizes placed around them. She couldn't remember ever beening to a graveyard before, but this certainly had to be one. Ursa couldn't read all of the Kanji yet, but she recognized the words Fire Lord and Agni on the central pillar.

Great-grandmother stood in front of said pillar, bowing deeply before it while mumbling something, which Ursa couldn't quite understand. Afterwards she pulled several sticks of incense from the folds of her Kimono and proceeded to light them. "Come over here and pay your respect, Ursa." The lady called and Ursa hastened to do as ordered.

She too bowed deeply and mumbled a quick prayer to honor Agni. Hadn't they already prayed enough at the temples at the bottom of the mountain? Oh well. It certainly wouldn't hurt, even though it was somewhat boring.

Hadn't Great-grandmother spoken about meeting someone? Whom would they meet on a graveyard? She was about to ask, when they moved on to one of the smaller pillars. The one they stopped in front of had a small stone plate in front of it, which was covered by a large incense pot. Different from most of the other pots, there were no sticks already light. Her grandmother quickly added several here as well. On the pillar behind the pot it said: "Fire Lord Zuko. Born: 46th year of Azulon, death 22nd year of Zuko."

There was something written below that as well, but she didn't know all of the Kanji. Her Great-grandmother seemed to guess what she was wondering about and read aloud: "Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right."

"That doesn't make any sense." Ursa complained and Katara smiled.

"Hopefully, it will be a very long time yet, before that makes sense to you, Ursa."

Ursa decided that that made even less sense, but let it be. Old people were weird sometimes and her Great-grandmother with her long, white hair was the oldest one she knew. "So who are we going to meet here?" She was getting rather impatient. Walking was all fine and well, but standing around solemnly certainly wasn't. That was boring.

Her Great-grandother smiled. "I want you to meet my husband, Ursa. Fire Lord Zuko."

Her great-grandfather? But wasn't he – forbidden? While her family and especially her parents were generally a happy lot and quite willing to speak of almost anything, there was one name that was never uttered. Her great-grandfather was a none topic. So much so, that she wasn't even sure why. Oh, she knew the stories, that he was crazy, or even worse, cruel. Of course the books never said as much, but they also never spoke about how great he had been. Not the way they did about almost every other Fire Lord. In fact the only Fire Lord discussed even less than Fire Lord Zuko was Fire Lord Ozai. And while her own parents might not have been willing to discuss him, her friends' parents certainly were. And her friends more than enjoyed sharing insider information with the young princess, who was normally so well informed. No, after everything she knew, Fire Lord Zuko was the worst thing that ever happened to the Fire Nation. Well, except for Fire Lord Ozai. If it hadn't been for the honorable Lady Katara, the rule of those two men, would have certainly led to at least the end of the Fire Nation. As it was, it was supposedly Fire Lord Zuko's fault that those terrorists, what were they called? 'Black something...' were still causing trouble. He, so they said, had refused to interfere, when they had started trouble far and wide in the Earth Kingdom. Trouble which – to this day - had never fully calmed.

"Oh don't look at me like that. You are almost ten years old now and it is about time that you learn some things. Your parents might be happy with leaving you in ignorance, but I certainly aren't. They think that not speaking of things is enough. Well, it isn't!"

"I don't think I understand, Great-grandmother."

"You remind me of him sometimes, you know?"

Ursa choked. She reminded her all important Great-grandmother of a crazy tyrant, who refused to help his neighbors? She had thought that Great-grandmother liked her...

"Both of you are so easily satisfied and though neither of you gives their trust easily, when you give it, it is absolute."

Her Great-grandmother turned her so that she had to look into those deep, blue eyes. "Your Great-grandfather is the best person, I have met in all my life and it's been a long one, Ursa. If you believe nothing else today, believe this."

"Then why does everyone claim that he was, well..."

"That, my dear child, is a long story indeed." Despite it's supposed length it didn't seem like her Great-grandmother would start telling it anytime soon. Instead she told her:

"Help me move that pot, will you?"

With the help of some bending Ursa quickly complied and moved the heavy thing aside. Sometimes water was truly the handier element than fire.

Underneath the pot a poem was revealed. Since she once again couldn't read it, her grandmother read it to her in a quiet voice:

"Sending out the dove

without any love,

I will not bow.

I don't know how.

The crazed ruler, so they said,

terrorized his people.

She will live through all this dread

and climb the highest steeple.

The former future Fire Lady

discovered his pain.

She could see: There was nothing shady

for what he felt shame.

The wind may bend a flower,

The storm may steel its bloom,

But even when great power

Calls for eternal doom

It will arise

Refuse demise

It is the nature of Jasmine

To bring together

The scary, scared and scarred,

the gentle, pure and true,

the hopeless and hopeful,

the fearless and fearful,

so they may become,

more than just a numb,

tired helpless group

in this endless loop.

And on the day they learn,

for what they all so yearn,

the reward they will earn."

Ursa recognized the first half of the poem. It had come from some terrible story about a Lady, who was forced to marry some cruel Lord, only to fall in love with him. In the end didn't they both die? The second one, she had never heard of before.

"You recognized the first half?" Her Great-grandmother asked and Ursa quickly nodded.

"That could have been me. In a way, it was. Even back then, your great-grandfather was rumored to be evil. Even more so perhaps than today and I, I came from the Southern Water Tribe, which had been almost completely annihilated in the 100 years war. It was part of a peace treaty and I, like most others, was sure that both the treaty and this marriage were fake. We called him a monster. Many do to this day."

"But he wasn't?" Because that was the essence of that stupid poem, wasn't it? That they had called him a monster even though he sort of wasn't?

"No, Ursa. He wasn't. Quite the opposite. He was one of the truest Fire Lords to have ever lived. He was honor and …."

Her mother had once told her that her Grandfather was always so angry and dour, because he carried a very heavy burden as the son of a Fire Lord. That he had to care for the whole army of the Fire Nation and with it for the nations safety and that wasn't an easy thing to do. That it made him stern. "So great-grandfather was like Grandfather?"

Great-grandmother seemed surprised at the comparison and Ursa hastened to explain, afraid that she had offended. "Mother once said that he was like a father who had to tell their child that it couldn't eat so many sweets, because they are bad for it. But that the child wanted them, because they are tasty. She said that, for the child, the father has to do the right thing, even if the child doesn't like that and that that can make you rather grumpy?"

She wasn't sure what she had said wrong, but her Great-grandmother suddenly laughed loudly. "Yes, yes! Quite right, Ursa! Fire Lord Zuko had to take the sweets from a lot of children and those children didn't like that one bit. I wouldn't have described him as grumpy, but it certainly was hard for him at times."

"Oh." Ursa supposed that she could understand that.

"He had to make a lot of hard choices for the sake of the Fire Nation."

"And never anything but." A hard voice called from behind them. Ursa quickly turned to see her Grandfather slowly climb up the hill. Though far younger than her Great-grandmother, her Grandfather seemed to have far more difficulties walking up the trail. "Are you telling the children stories about your oh so wonderful husband again, mother?"

"Shorai!" Great-grandmother sounded angry. While Grandfather seemed always angry, Ursa had never before seen Great-grandmother anything other than serene. Besides, in Ursa's opinion at least, one did not make Great-grandmother angry. It simply wasn't done.

"I am not a child any more, mother. You can't keep me from saying the truth, when you do not like it. Fire Lord Zuko never cared for anything other than his stupid honour and the Nation. The Nation, the Nation, the NATION." Ursa wanted to run. Her Grandfather was always a stern, forbidding man, but now he was fuming. If mother heard that she had had any part in making both Grandfather and Great-grandmother angry, she would get the scolding of a lifetime. She didn't even know why they were mad though. It really wasn't fair.

"That isn't true, Shorai and you know it. Your father cared deeply for you." This seemed to be an old discussion, but it was the first time that Ursa ever heard anything about it. The eyes of both of the honoured elders seemed to be lit afire.

"Great-grandmother?" She asked uncertainly, hoping to end the fight before it got worse, but was simply ignored by the two adults.

"Oh, and because he cared so deeply he married us off without so much as a by your leave? Because he cared so much all he ever spoke of was our duty to the nation? To the world? To anyone but ourselves?"

"We are royal." Her Great-grandmother answered just as heatedly.

"Born to serve." He added in a sneer. "That was all he ever spoke of. All my childhood long I was raised for no other reason than to serve."

"When I heard that first mother and then you left for Mountain Shouryou I feared that you would be at it again." A calm, powerful voice interrupted.

Ursa knew that voice. She rarely saw Fire Lord Iroh. In fact she could count the occasions where she had met him on one hand. Bowing low, she tried to remember everything her mother had ever taught her about court manners. How was the proper address for the daughter of a side branch of the royal family again? Even at her young age she knew that these meetings were important. That she had to make a good impression, especially when the excursion had turned out so badly. Fire Lord Iroh was like Great-grandmother Katara after all. They were important. At least that's what mother claimed.

"This is none of your business, younger brother. I will not have my grandchild's mind filled with your love-addled ideas." Grandfather turned to Ursa. "Come with me, child. This is no place for you."

Ursa though had no intention of coming. She knew her Grandfather and when he was in one of his moods, the last thing she wanted to do was walk with him for hours. He would certainly find plenty of fault with her in the hours they would have to travel. Especially since he had always seemed to dislike her for no apparent reason. Luckily her Great-grandmother seemed to notice her worry.

"She will not be going anywhere. She is old enough to learn of certain matters now, Shorai. Especially her, who is so much like my..."

Did her Great-grandmother choke? Ursa simply didn't understand. Moving closer to the tombstone, she tried to move away from the shouting adults.

"Mother, brother. Please. This is not the place to reheat this old discussion once more." The Fire Lord looked pointedly towards Ursa.

"It is both the time and the place now. I have agreed to let the history books say what they will, to keep the nation stable and the answers for those who do not know better simple." Her Great-grandmother stepped forward towards her son. She suddenly seemed even taller than she truly was. "I did not agree to keep his children believing lies. I did not agree to have his son take his name in vain. Do not forget your place!" She didn't shout. She did not need to. Ursa's mother had once told her that even though Fire Lord Iroh, ruled the nation, Lady Katara ruled the world.

"My place?" Her Great-grandfather shouted. "Believe me, you have made more than sure that I would never forget my place. But Ursa is my grandchild and as such I have first rights to her. I won't have you meddling with your oh so precious, supposed Zuko reincarnation. She is my grandchild!"

Ursa didn't want to listen anymore. She didn't understand what was happening and something told her that she didn't want to know either. Instead she opted to move behind the grave stone. Maybe, if they didn't see her, they would forget that she was even there. Hiding behind the thin stone, she pressed her back into the cool stone. Remembering the meditation exercises she had to learn during bending practice, Ursa focused on the water surrounding her. There was water in the small flowers growing away from the paths.

The flowers looked so pretty. She had looked forward to this excursion so much. Her mother had been so proud of her when she had been asked to accompany her Great-grandmother. Though no one explicitly said as much, a waterbender was not always welcome amongst the children of Agni. Ursa might have been young, but she wasn't stupid. With her Great-grandmother though that never mattered. She too wasn't a child of Agni after all. Several tears escaped from her eyes and Ursa angrily bent them away. She was a royal! Royals didn't cry like little babies.

She was meditating! Not crying! Redoubling her efforts she pushed everything but the drops now running down the stones out of her mind. They ran along the unusually even material with little trouble. They almost seemed to follow an invisible pattern as they took strange turns on their path to the ground. Intrigued the child pulled forth more water drops from her surroundings and began to let them run down the stone.

They too followed the same path. More and more water flowed along the same lines, turning them into darker shades compared to the rest, dry part of the stone. Wasn't that the same symbol as the one on her Great-grandmother's engagement stone?

Taking her finger she lightly traced the lines, before her hand finally came to rest in the very centre of it. The stone felt so nice, so smooth and cool. She rested her hand against it.

"... I will not have it!" Her Grandfather shouted.

Ursa startled, pulling her hand away from the stone. She hadn't even heard them anymore, so deep had she been in thought. She quickly checked, where the elders were standing, but luckily no one seemed to have noticed her absence yet. Turning back to the stone she hoped to loose herself in it once more, but it was no longer a single smooth stone. Instead right in the middle of the sigil, a part of the stone had moved out of the previously closed wall. It now stood perhaps a fingers width out. Grabbing it gently, Ursa pulled the stone out fully and discovered a small box behind it.

Was this supposed to be here? Would she be in trouble for removing it? What if those were her Grandfather's ashes?

She checked her relatives, but they were still arguing amongst each other, not paying Ursa any heed.

Gently she pulled out the richly decorated dark box and opened it's lid.

Inside lay, both to Ursa's relieve and her surprise, parchments over parchments. Opening the first, she read:

"Dear Uncle,"

It said in neat, but cramped handwriting.

"The days seemingly grow both longer and shorter at the same time. Every day gets ever more tiring and none of Katara's medicine nor her heeling seems to do more than ease all of my little pains anymore. I fear that I have grown old – far faster than I had any right to. It is alright now, though. I have lived both longer and happier than I ever thought I would.

I got to see them grow into almost adults, uncle. Proud, proud Shorai has outgrown us all with his bending abilities. Not even Azula ever reached his level of excellence. He is everything fire should be. Iroh though is so much like you, uncle, that it sometimes hurts my heart. He is gentle, yet firm and never minds to put the greater good before his own needs. And then, of course there are the twins. They are as different as day and night, but both bring an impossible happiness to anyone they meet. They are seemingly joined at the hip and loyal to a fault.

Even if I leave now, Katara will have all of them and my heart, certainly, will always remain with her. We have had more joy in our lives than anyone has a right to hope for.

I love them all so much it hurts my heart.

Watch over them, for I do not know if I ever will be able to do so again, uncle. I have done all I know how to ease their burdens and I pray everyday that it might be enough.

But as much as I wish to I have no longer the strength to carry them any further, uncle.

Watch over and love them in my stead, uncle."

A sob broke from Ursa's lips and she wasn't even sure why, but something about it tore at her heart, ripping it open.

Her sobs had to have been rather noisy, for suddenly her concerned Great-grandmother stood next to her, taking in the shaking hands holding an old almost crumpled parchment.

"Oh child." She whispered and lowered herself slowly to the ground next to Ursa. Gathering her close the elderly woman began rocking her gently.

"I don't even know who wrote this, but somehow. It is almost as if I knew him." Ursa sobbed.

"Sometimes I think that perhaps, child, you did. Sometimes I wonder if you came to us to remind us..."

"Remind you?" Ursa didn't understand.

"Remind us, why blood is red. Remind us of the nature of the Jasmine."

"What are these?" Grandfather suddenly asked, pulling the two women slightly apart with his voice. In his hands he held two of the parchments from the box, staring at them in disbelieve.

"I told you that night that even if his body had to leave, his heart would always remain." Great-grandmother chided gently. "I meant it."

It seemed as if suddenly all of Grandfather's strings had been cut, as he simply folded in on himself. "But... How can ..."

Now the Fire Lord too stepped closer, the fight from only moments ago forgotten. Gently prying one of the papers away from his older brother, he skimmed the text written on it and swallowed harshly.

"I was raised for it." The elderly man seemed terribly young to Ursa as he sat there on the ground staring uncomprehendingly at the second parchment.

"Yes." Her Great-grandmother whispered. "We raised you to rule and there was no one prouder of you than your father. You were everything he never was: Proud and certain. More powerful in your element than either of us could believe. You would have made an incredible Fire Lord, certainly. You would have brought Fire greatness, and we both knew it." Great-grandmother whispered. "I told you as much, Shorai."

"When he wrote in his testament that I didn't have the heart for ruling, I was so certain that he thought that I couldn't do it. All my life I knew that I would be the Fire Lord. Everywhere I went I was the next Fire Lord. Everything was done to prepare me for it, even when I hated it and then, he just took that from me. And just like that I was a failure."

"Oh child. We knew that our time was limited. He lived a lot longer than anyone ever thought he would, but our time wasn't endless and your siblings still so young. We couldn't tell if any of them would turn out to take the post willingly."

"Then why didn't he explain beforehand?"

"Would it have changed anything? If your father had told you that as amazing as you are, you would hate ruling every single day? That it would force you to be something you aren't? You were still so young. You didn't know yet, what ruling truly meant."

"'Shorai isn't meant to live his life solely for the sake of others.'" The Fire Lord read in a shaky voice. "How could he have known that? We were still only teenagers?"

"I can't tell you how exactly he knew that, but if there was ever a man, who lived for the sake of others than it was your father. He knew what it meant. He once told me in a quiet moment that he worried that you would be too perfect, Shorai. I know that you understood it as an insult to you, but he never meant it that way. He wanted you to be free. To fly as high as you could and drop as low as you should."

"But..."

There was an eerie quietness that Ursa couldn't really explain, but could certainly feel.

"Why didn't you explain later These letters, why didn't you...?"

Great-grandmother sighed. "They were never meant for anyone to read. He didn't want his children to see him as weak."

"But..."

"His children were never supposed to know, how hard..." Great-grandmother's voice broke again.

Ursa knew that it wasn't her place, but she had the terrible feeling that this was important. That whatever was happening, could influence the rest of her life. "I don't understand." She whispered.

Her Great-grandmother smiled at her. "Of course you don't. I think none of you really do. There are very few people in fact, who ever did. But perhaps it is time to break this silence. So let me tell you a story Ursa. It's the story of a young man. A young man, who on this day one hundred years ago made a very hard decision. You know that balcony from which you can see the city?"

Ursa nodded, it was known to be one of Great-grandmother's favourite spots.

"So imagine it with it's grey stone floor, the sky above him. Here he stood overlooking the capital city, his red armour shining in the bright sunlight like fresh blood, his cape warning all of his presence with its angry tail-like. Even more a reminder of his teachers though were his yellow eyes, so much like those of the legendary dragons.

Some would have called him the most powerful man of the world, some the most dangerous and yet others the cruellest, but if asked he would have called himself the loneliest of all. After all, with both his greatest enemies, as well as his closest friends gone, with his family dead either by his hand or their own, who was left to - if nothing else - look at him?

These days no one seemed to look at him anymore..."

Together the little group sat there until late at night, remembering a man, a life, a hope.

Hi,

I don't know what more I can say other than: Thank you! Thank you for 3.5 amazing years! For reading, discussing, waiting,... It meant a great deal to me to have someone read what I write!

I hope this bitter sweet ending was alright … This scene is one of the first ones I imagined: Old Katara standing with a young girl at Zuko's grave and telling his – their – story.

I hope you are satisfied with the answers I gave, because there will be no sequel... Maybe a oneshot, but probably not. If any of you have questions left though, feel free to ask.

I can now finally turn to my other story, which had to take a seat back to Jasmine for a very long time...

Thank you all! Especially those first reviewers, who bothered with Jasmine long before anyone else did and those who kept with me for this very long time.

Greetings for the last time :), Yorushike