Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“How did you do it?”

Fire Lord Zuko looks up at the sound of his son-in-law, Yoshiro’s, voice, tearing his eyes away from the toy he was carving – a skill he learned from Hakoda and Sokka, for his grandson who was expected to be born any day now.

At 59, almost 60, the smooth skin of his youth had been replaced with wrinkles and sunspots, but his eyes were just as bright and shiny as ever as he smiles, patting the space next to him. “This is about becoming a father, isn’t it?”

Yoshiro gulps, nod, and takes a seat, long legs folding underneath him.

Zuko sets down the carving knife and brushes the wood shavings out of his lap. “I hope you’re not thinking about walking out on my daughter.” He quips nonchalantly. His face is drawn into a blank expression, his mouth a tight, sharp line, and Yoshiro stills. Despite being a firebender, the Fire Lord who also happens to be his wife’s father, gaze, is enough to turn his blood cold and he wonders if he ever felt the same in the presence of Chief Hakoda.

He wonders if he'll have mastered his own intimidating demeanor when and if he has his own daughter. 

Years later and despite the gracious acceptance of him into the Royal Family, and Lady Katara’s constant reminder that he’s done more than enough to prove his worth, the last thing he wants to do is get on his bad side, especially after he so diligently fought for him to recognized and given the same status as all Royal Consorts, despite the position never being filled by a male before.

A beat passes and the aging man smirks. “That was a joke.” He claps him on the back. “Relax, I’m just teasing you.” Another pause. “Besides, Zumi would murder you with her daggers before I ever have to.”

“Tell me about it. That’s partially why I’m here bothering you. She said I was smothering her.” He frowns. "And so did Kya. Both of them shooed me away." 

Zuko's lips quirk up into a grin. He can practically hear Kya telling him he's getting on her sister's nerves and Katara scolding her for teasing him. “Water tribe women are very independent. Almost to a fault. Although, I’m sure you’re used to that by now. You’ve been a part of this family for what? Over 15 years?” He chuckles. “A lot longer if you count primary school, however, I certainly never suspected the boy that used to hide under my desk during hide and go seek would end up with my eldest.” He shrugs. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

Yoshiro never imagined falling in love with the Heir to the Throne either. It was merely by chance that their mothers ran into each other, a rare occasion in itself that the Fire Lady had a baby Izumi out around Caldera like they were members of the general public, if it weren’t for the arsenal of guards trailing behind them, and they struck up a friendship after a few playdates.

“But to answer your question…I’m still doing it. Parenting doesn’t stop once your kids are grown and out of the house. They still need you, admittedly, and it hurts to admit this, so bear with me, just a lot less.” 

Mizuki and Ryu were still teenagers, but at 18, both were steadily pushing the boundaries of adulthood. Luckily, because they were the youngest of the family, as such, they weren't just his and Katara's babies, but their older siblings' babies too. 

He looks at his son-in-law. The lanky, awkward kid he watched grow up was now a dignified, young man, complete with a beard and all. A younger, immature version of Zuko would've been jealous of the magnificent facial hair. He was bare-faced for much of his thirties and then forty hits and not only did he grow one, but it was also suspiciously peppery and gray. 

He’d make a great ruler by Izumi’s side one day and it made him happy that she found someone that truly cared for her beyond her royal status. Growing up, he had very little friends outside of his sister’s circle until he joined the Avatar, and it was hard to tell who really liked him for him, or for what he could offer.

“You’re a lot older than I was when I became a dad for the first time so that's working in your favor. I was twenty-five and still pretty stupid.”

(After all, it took Izumi kicking in Katara's womb for the first time for him to fully understand that it was actually happening and her being pregnant wasn't just a figment of his imagination.)

Yoshiro sucks in a deep breath. “And how did you feel? Throughout Katara’s pregnancy?”

“Honestly, I was scared. I’m not going to lie to you and say I was ecstatic from the day she told me until the birth because I wasn't. I couldn't sleep for weeks.” He shakes his head. “Even with my uncle’s and own father-in-law’s guidance, I had no idea if I could do it. Would I repeat the same mistakes Ozai made? Would I overcompensate so much for his shortcomings that I coddle them? Would he or she even like me? Would they see my scar and start crying? But my friends and family all had so much faith in me. Katara had so much faith in me. They knew I would be the best father I could be and more than anything else, they knew I would love my kids and that was enough. It was more than what my forefathers could say for their kids.” He squeezes his shoulder. “You’re not going to get everything right all the time and you're only setting yourself up for failure to expect that. There’s a lot of trial and error and no stage is better or worse than the other. Cherish the newborn phase, and the terrible twos, and the teen angst, because one day you're going to wake up and you're going to be giving this talk to someone else wondering where in Agni's name did the time go." 

Zuko dabs at the corner of his eyes with his sleeves. Of course, he was going to cry. He's been a waterbag since his first and the tears only got worse with each one because wow, he really was doing this dad thing and was quite good at it...

"And besides, you’re not alone here. Katara is itching to take over as Gran-Gran and I've been practicing my dad jokes." 

Yoshiro chuckles. Humor has never been his father-in-law's strong suit, but he wasn’t going to tell him that.

He looks into his eyes, gold meeting gold. “When you hold your baby for the first time, every single doubt you’ve had about becoming a father is going to wash away and be replaced with nothing but love and affection for this tiny little human that’s half of you. Trust me. I still look in awe at Izumi and her siblings every day." He sighs. "Now, does that answer your question?”

“Yeah, it does, actually. I’m a lot less nervous now.”

A member of the wait staff walks into the meditation garden of their residence in Republic City. They would spend half of the year here and then the other half in the Fire Nation as Izumi slowly transitioned to take over the throne, with Katara staying behind to help them the first few months of their son's life. Zuko already had his schedule perfectly mapped out for visits every other week. 

“Sir Yoshiro. Fire Lord Zuko.” She calls out, getting their attention. “It’s time.”

In an instant, the 34-year-old is up on his feet, one hand extending downwards to help up his father-in-law and Zuko takes it, grumbling to himself that he’s old, not incapacitated, but issuing a thank you anyway. As he begins to walk off, a pep in his step that wasn’t there earlier, Zuko calls out after him.

“And whatever you do, do not look down!”

Chapter Text

Republic City was known for it’s fast-paced lifestyle, the sprawling metropolis coming alive at night with patrons rushing to the dancefloor of jazz clubs, pro-bending matches in full swing at the arena, and live radio shows detailing everything from breaking news to local stories. A frequent visitor and part-time resident, Zuko was no stranger to the hustle and bustle of it all himself. He made it a goal to take Katara out for a night on the town complete with her favorite restaurant and the hottest live band until her feet ached from dancing all night in the high heels that he told her not to wear in the first place every time they were in the area.

Thrust into responsibilities bigger than them at such a young age, they didn’t have the normal teenage dating experience, their idea of dates often being afternoon tea while she helps him write speeches and sneaking out in the middle of the night in their disguises, so it was fun to act like they were high schoolers trying to squeeze in as much as possible before curfew and making out in the back of taxis.

Yet, as he holds his grandson, there is a calm, peaceful stillness that reminds him of early mornings in the South Pole when he wants to do nothing else but burrow underneath the covers as the smell of Gran Gran's cooking filled the air. 

Zuko, quite frankly, never imagined himself as a grandfather. To be someone’s grandfather meant you had children of your own and that was something he looked forward to the least about being Fire Lord- the mountain of paperwork, long, boring meetings, and assassination attempts more appealing than possibly ruining a child life’s before they even turn 16. 

And he was convinced, he would ruin it. 

After all, his Uncle’s relationship with his late cousin and then him seemed like an exception to the rule. One out of generations of daddy issues, poor parenting, and abusive fathers.

He could make a baby (and even that made him nervous for he wanted whoever the mother of his future heir was to at least enjoy the process and not just see it as a chore like the many that came before her), with ease. It was raising it for a minimum of 18 years and then depending on him for every little thing for a significant portion of their lives that made his heart race with fear and apprehension.

In retrospect, running a country at 16 seemed much, much easier. If he messed that up, he could merely blame it on his youth because seriously, who thought a teenager who spent the past 3 years of his life hunting down a child having that much responsibility was a good idea? Or dictate much of his tasks to his council. 

He chose to be hands-on out of fear that the fragile constitutional monarchy could easily turn into a dictatorship again with the wrong person in power. 

But truth be told, he doesn’t even remember when exactly all this changed for him- when the need for an heir became less of a duty and more of something he wanted if he didn't think too much about everything that could go wrong. He fell in love with his best friend, a stubborn waterbender who made his knees feel like jelly, and then one day, the thought of being someone’s dad didn’t seem so bad. In fact, the idea of watching her stomach swell and grow with his child, raising one (or more) with her, quickly became a treasured fantasy that he desired to become real. 

So when he held Izumi for the first time, a tiny little thing that felt so fragile in his arms, he knew he wouldn’t be another Ozai.

Ozai didn't love him but the love he felt for his wife and children would transcend lifetimes. 

His grandson gurgles in his arms and Zuko smiles, peering down at him. It's then that he notices he’s crying, watching as a tear falls onto the blue swaddle blanket Katara made for him. “Hi Iroh, I’m your grandpa.” He chuckles a bit. “Agni, that feels weird to say.” Zuko shakes his head, mindful that he doesn’t tickle him with his beard. He would not be the one responsible for making him cry and subsequently, waking his daughter up. "Allow me to explain. See, you’re named after my uncle, who also just so happened to be like a father to me, so that makes him your great-grandfather. Yes, I know, it’s complicated…”

“Mom?”

Katara’s head snaps in the direction of her eldest’s voice. Izumi was all too eager to pass her son off to his grandparents to get some sleep after a long labor and short birth and neither one of them were complaining, soaking in their new titles. 

“Hm?”

“Is dad going on one of his tangents again?”

“Oh, sweetie.” She walks over to the bed, bending fresh water into the cup on the table as she goes with a smile on her face. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

Chapter Text

Zuko is lying in bed next to his wife when he hears the faint trace of footsteps approaching down the hall. There’s a childish giggle followed by a harsh, whispered “shhh” and he smiles to himself before pretending to be asleep. Even at his age, his body can’t resist being lured out of sleep by the pull of the arctic sun. He’s been laying there for roughly 15 minutes just enjoying the stillness and trying not to disturb Katara, who still slept wildly and hogged the covers.

After stepping down from the throne, he retired to the South Pole with her. She gave him over 40 years in his homeland, it was only right he made her's, his. Truth be told, he was quite fond of the quieter lifestyle anyway even though the rural village shores he arrived on all those years ago certainly weren’t the same today – the Southern Water Tribe growing into a bustling, college town of some sorts as many returned from their studies in the Northern Water Tribe to work at the school and start local businesses. 

When they weren’t traveling around the world to visit their friends and family or taking impromptu vacations to some remote island, their grandchildren were coming to them, spending their winters at “Gran-Gran’s house” (as if he didn’t live there too). It was an annual thing that Zuko looked forward to every year, wanting to cherish every possible moment he could get with them before they officially thought they were too cool to spend their time with a 67-year-old man that cracked horrible dad jokes but made up for it with stories about his adventures as a boy and cool, firebending tricks.

The door creaks open and a tussle of short, brownish curls peek in followed by a sleek, black wolf tail. “Shh, Ilah.” His grandson, Iroh, chides, gently scolding his little sister. “Gran-Gran and Grandpa are still sleeping.” He snickers, covering his mouth with his hand. “They’re old now.”

Zuko’s eyes pop open. “Hey!” He yells muffled by the thick fur lining of the blanket. “I am not old!”

“Grandpa!”

“Papa!”

Ilah runs over first, jumping into his lap and he lets out an exaggerated groan as he sits up. “You’re awake!”

He chuckles. “Of course, I am, snowflake. I rise with the sun.”

“And Gran-Gran rises with the moon.”

Zuko presses his forehead against hers. “That’s right. She does.”

The four-year-old frowns. “So, that means she’s not coming with us to watch the polarbear-dog pups come out of hib-hib- “ She sighs. “Hibanation, huh?”

Iroh snickers and Zuko gives him a very pointed look. “It’s hibernation, but good try.”

That’s more like it.

He sighs. “Unfortunately, no, kiddo. But that doesn’t mean we won’t have fun.” He grabs her hands. “Besides, she’ll be here making all your yummy favorites.” He leans in closer to them to whisper. “Don’t tell her I told you this, but she even had fire flakes imported from the Fire Nation because she knows how much you like them.”

Not to mention, how much he liked them. If there was anything he missed about his own home country, it was that and several other treats but Izumi always did her best to ship some to him separate from the supply meant for the market. The Water Tribe kids made a challenge out of seeing who could eat the most without their tongues burning. 

The two of them beam, bright grins splitting across their faces and Iroh fist-pumping. “Alright!”

“Now” He sets Ilah down on the floor, her feet sinking into the soft, fur rug. “Go wash up and get dressed so we can go. We don’t want to miss it!” He looks at his grandson. “Help your sister, please.”

Iroh nods, taking her hand in his. “C’mon, I’ll heat the water for you.”

Zuko shakes his head as they walk out, the door closing behind them. They had running hot water so there was no need to heat it oneself anymore, but Ilah hadn’t shown any signs of bending yet. Whether she was merely a late bloomer or a nonbender like her mother, it was hard to say but Iroh took every opportunity he could to use his ability and she loved it.

Ilah thought bending was one of the coolest things ever. She always begged him and Katara both to put on a show for her before bed. 

It made him smile to see his grandchildren getting along instead of using their skills or lack of as a tool against the other.

He feels Katara stir beside him, and he directs his attention to her. “Goodmorning, love.”

“Morning.” She pulls the covers back slightly, squinting at the sunlight peering through the window. “Ugh, how does that not bother you? What is it? 6 in the morning?”

“Seven.”

“That’s still too early.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “After all these years, you’re still grumpy when you wake up.” He nudges her in the side with his elbow, winking. “Real mature for a 65-year-old.”

Katara snorts. “Says the guy that complains about the cold when he married a Water Tribe native and moved to the South Pole with her.”

“Hey, these old bones don’t warm up the way they used to.” He leans down, kissing her on the shoulder and nuzzling his face into her neck. “Besides, that’s why I have you.” He presses his lips against her earlobe. "You know you still set my blood on fire."

“Yeah, yeah, and you know those two are bound to come in here again at any minute so it’s best you tame that dragon of yours. And I’m not talking about Druk, either.”

He laughs – it’s loud and hearty and it makes her heart flutter. “You know, some would find my youthful spryness a good thing.”

Katara rolls over onto her side to face him, a bright smile on her face and that same, familiar twinkle in her eyes. “I do.” She runs her hands up and down his torso, humming at how warm he is. “But later, handsome.”

Zuko returns her smile, blushing a bit at her compliment and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I’ll hold you to that, beautiful.” They lay in comfortable silence, holding each other, before it’s broken by a sharp shriek in the washroom.

“Papa!” Ilah whines. “Iroh’s splashing me and getting my hair wet!”

He groans, his face dropping into a pillow with an exasperated sigh. “Why does she always call for me?”

“Because she knows Papa Zuko will always come to the rescue. Remember that phase when you were the only one who could get her to sleep? Zumi almost demanded you fly back to the Fire Nation.”  

He sits up and Katara helps him put on his robe, tying it around his waist from behind. “What can I say? I am the baby whisperer.” She gives him a chaste kiss on his scarred cheek- there was a point in time Zuko avoided small children, too afraid he'd break, hurt, or scare them, and now he's a pro at soothing cranky infants, entertaining toddlers, and breaking up petty fights between teenaged siblings, and then he’s up and out the door.

As she listens to the giggling and laughing, the words of Aunt Wu play in her head.

“You will marry a powerful bender one day.”

And while she did, she’s also married a really amazing man.

Chapter Text

“Hey, grandpa?” Iroh asks with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“You know how Uncle Kallik and Auntie Yue are having a baby?”

Zuko raised his sole eyebrow. Yes, he did know that. The entire family, extended included, were in Ember Island for the holidays. They had outgrown the beach house over the years with their brood alone expanding to include six children, so he had it renovated and presented it to Katara as a Mother’s Day gift.

Over breakfast, his firstborn son announced that he and his wife were having a child.

“Yes. I do.” He pauses. “What about that?”

“Well, where do babies come from?”

The former Fire Lord blanched a bit.

He knew this moment was coming – after all, he remembers the exact moment Izumi, Kya, Kallik, Jiro, and finally, the twins, had this same question. And truthfully, it was a lot less nerve-wracking and unsettling this time with practice under his belt – but it didn’t make it any less uncomfortable and awkward, solely because it meant his grandson was growing up.

And he didn’t want that.

Because it also meant that he was getting even older. The Fire Sages were already asking about plans for his funeral – if he wanted to be buried where the other former Fire Lords are, or next to his wife in a custom mausoleum (of course, that’s what he wants with a shrine dedicated to Katara and all her excellence), if he wanted the luxury extravagance and display of wealth that accompanied other royal funerals (no, because that wasn’t who he was), and who was to preside over his transition to the Spirit World (Aang if he doesn’t go before he does because he’s the most spiritual person he knows) when he doesn’t plan on dying anytime soon.

He was only 70 for Agni’s Sake, fifteen years shy of the average Fire Lord’s life span, not including those who are descendants of the Avatar.

In his wife’s culture before the war, it was common to reach old age. Gran-Gran herself lived to be 103 before peacefully succumbing in her sleep.

Hakoda and his mother were both still alive.

He thought he still had time.

How could the grandson he saw come into the world be this old already that he wants to know where babies come from?

That means, it won’t be long before Ilah, who knows way more than she should, she takes after her mother in that regard, asks, and Agni, the only thing harder than watching his children grow up, is watching his grandchildren grow up.

There was something so bittersweet about knowing that while his legacy would always live on, he'd only be around for a part of their lives and that one day, he would be just a memory. 

Zuko purses his lips together. “Does your mom and dad know you’re curious about this?”

He never wanted to undermine Izumi and Yoshiro’s parenting. If they weren’t ready for him to have this conversation, then all he could do was suggest that they talk to him about it before it was too late. He wouldn’t take that step without their approval.

He and Katara got a lot of judgment from others for their soft parenting methods and as nervous as he was about childrearing and sought out advice from others, all the unsolicited commentary and overstepping of boundaries quickly became very annoying.

Iroh nods, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Yeah. Mom told me to ask you.” He pauses. "She said you're good at this kind of thing." 

He chuckles. “Of course, she did.”

But truthfully – he’s happy that even at 45, his daughter, his firstborn – the one that made him a father, still needs him.

It was either that or she took joy in putting him in awkward, uncomfortable situations.

But, nevertheless, this is what being a grandfather was all about, passing on knowledge and wisdom to the younger generation, teaching him how to woo romantic interests, sparring matches even though he's going to pay for it later with sore muscles and achy bones, and buying all the fancy toys and gadgets their parents said no to - Ilah took full advantage of that one.

So, he gestures to the cushion across from him, pouring another cup of tea.

“You see, Iroh, babies are a lot like a good cup of tea. And to make one, you need a few ingredients…”

Chapter Text

“You’re a stubborn, old man.”

Zuko hissed as his wife ran cool, healing hands over his torso.

“You know you don’t heal as fast and as nicely now, right, Zuko? We’re not teenagers, anymore.” She sighs. She was able to repair the torn muscle and stop the internal bleeding but even her capabilities had its limits. “This is going to scar.”

The former Fire Lord shrugged. “What’s one more?”

Katara frowned, displeased with his nonchalance and carelessness. “One more that could’ve killed you.” She refrains from mentioning “again.” That it was another one, one of many, that was a result of a failed assassination attempt.

The only thing making the situation slightly better was the circumstances. The same way Zuko launched himself in front of a comet-charged lightning bolt for her all those years ago, although the memory and fear she felt was still fresh, her self-sacrificing, determined, and protective husband was willing to give his own life if it meant their eldest child and firstborn was safe. And she knew in her heart that he'd do it for all of her siblings too. It was one of the several reasons she continued to fall in love with him, six children and grandchildren later. 

The Red Lotus had managed to pick off several of the world’s leaders one by one, shocking citizens across the Four Nations. Upon notice that they were heading for the Fire Nation next, he’d cut a trip to Kyoshi Island to visit Sokka short, pushing Druk as fast as his wings would carry him. She followed him a few hours later on the next airship out.

They’d learned early in Zuko’s reign when threats to his (and everyone he loved’s) life were a near-daily occurrence that it was best to stagger their arrival and departure times.

It was far too risky to be in the same place, at the same time. 

It was only after the last of Ozai Loyalists and rebel organizations were disbanded and imprisoned that they began traveling together again, but not without added security and guards.

Izumi assured them that she was fine. Not only could she protect herself, trained in several martial arts forms, the Royal Family’s Secret Service was considered some of the toughest and most skilled soldiers in the world. Only the finest from the respective nations’ branches were considered and all had to go through the Kyoshi Intelligence Program.

And they knew Yoshiro wouldn’t hesitate to defend and protect his wife by any means necessary either, but still.

She was their first baby and although she was 60 years old with adult children of her own, they, he made a promise that he’d be there for her until his last breath.

If that last breath was for protecting his daughter, then so be it.

“But Izumi is safe.” He murmured, the pull of exhaustion beginning to seep through his bones. Katara was right – he wasn’t a teenager anymore, but he certainly wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction and admit she was right. “That’s all that matters.”

“And she’s going to give you an earful when she gets down here and sees you all bandaged and bruised up because you wanted to be a badass and join the fight like you’re not 85 years old with a bad back and arthritis.”

He scowled at her, grumbling. He knows his wife means well, after all, they’ve been together for over 60 years. But he was still mobile and spry, to an extent. He wishes she’d stop making him sound so decrepit as if he's wasting away when his physician said he was in good health otherwise. 

“My back is not ba-ow.” He winced as a muscle spasmed, seizing the left side. Katara just shook her head, rubbing a hand soothingly over the appendage, clicking her tongue, and an ‘I told you so’ written across her face.

“Well, as long as my tongue still works and can make you-“

“Ew, please don’t finish that sentence.” The sound of their eldest’s makes their heads turn in her direction.

Katara offers Izumi a small smile, taking note of the dark circles under her eyes.

She was truly her father’s child, running herself ragged for the sake of her country, throne, and people.

“Hi, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. But you know, alive.” Izumi bites her lip, avoiding looking at her father lying in bed, wounded, because of her. Instead, she shoves a hand in his direction. “Thanks to this guy. The Father Lord.”

When Kallik was a boy, he’d gotten into the habit of calling Zuko that and it wasn’t long before all of his siblings were doing so.

Her mother frowns. She knew that voice and face. It was Izumi’s stoic, brave face when she was trying not to cry and be strong.

Years ago, when she and Yoshiro first decided to go their separate ways, she made the same face, pretending that it didn’t hurt, but her parents knew her all too well and all it took was for Zuko to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug for her to burst into tears, worried their relationship and friendship would never recover.

But then, he asked if she wanted him to beat him up for her and she started laughing through watery eyes and a runny nose.

“Oh, honey.” Katara coos soothingly, crushing her in her arms, a place she's always felt safe. She pulls away, rubbing her shoulders. “I’ll let you two be alone so you can talk.”

While she was so proud of her husband and the man he was – a much better father that Ozai could never even imagine being, she was used to seeing him this way, having nursed many of his wounds in the past.

For Izumi, it was new. Her father always seemed larger than life to her – he was her superhero.

To see someone she thought was invincible in this way was a scene a child could never truly be prepared for, no matter how old they were. When Hakoda fell ill and became a shell of himself, his old, warrior days just stories and memories, Katara could barely stomach watching him waste away.

A part of her still regrets being unable to see him over into the Spirit World.

It felt cruel that he survived so much only to be taken down by an unexpected sickness no one saw coming. She only found solace in knowing that it was her healing skills that kept him comfortable and around for much longer than what doctors said was typical, the pain of being unable to save and protect her mother still hurting. 

Katara closes the door softly behind her and several silences pass before it’s broken.

“Are you just going to stand over there like a statue or are you going to come over here and give me a hug? Or do I have to come to you?” Zuko sighs, shifting in the bed to push himself up and Izumi rushes over. “Dad!” She cries, alarmed and concerned. “Let me help you.”

He huffs, but lets her assist anyway. “You’re just like your mother. Always treating me like one of her patients." 

She purses her lips. “That’s funny. Mom says I’m a lot like you.”

Zuko chuckles. “You know, we never told you this but when you were a kid, a nasty rumor spread that you weren’t mine because you couldn’t bend. Some people couldn’t believe that two such powerful benders could have a non-bender child, even though both your mom and I have non-benders in our families.“ He looks at her, smiling. “But I never had any doubt.” He winks at her. “You have my dashing good looks.”

“Oh, for Agni’s sake, can you stop being so casual and pretending like you didn’t almost die?!”

The outburst is so loud and sudden, that he’s certain the guards standing outside the door and in the hall heard it.

He frowns. “Well, I guess this is a bad time to mention that little outburst was also a lot like me, huh?”

Izumi wipes her eyes, dabbing at tears with her fingertips, and Zuko takes on a softer expression. “Oh, Zum.” He reaches out to grab her hand, she squeezes it, almost as if she’s checking to see if he’s still here, and his heart melts the same way it did all those years ago when she wrapped her tiny hand around his finger. “I really scared you, didn’t I?”

 “Yeah, you did. When they came and got me and told me what happened, I-“ She pauses, taking a deep breath. “I know I’m the child and you’re the parent so I’ll always be your little girl, but I couldn’t help but feel like I failed to protect you.” She looks him in the eyes, memorizing his face. “I’m the Fire Lord. It’s my job to keep my people safe. What good am I if my 85-year-old father with a bad back and arthritis is still fighting my battles?”

Zuko scoffs. “Will you two stop saying that? My back is fine and I do not have arthritis.”

“Would you prefer if I said rheumatism?”

“Watch it. You’re not too old to be disciplined by your father.”  

Izumi chuckles and he grins. “There’s that pretty smile I love, again. You’re back to looking like your mother. You know she stole my heart that way.”

“Dad, you say everything about Mom stole your heart.”

“Well, it’s true.” He puffs his chest up. “That’s why I’m 85 and still getting it in.”

“And now you've ruined it. Great. Thank you for that visual as if 18 years living under your roof and having five siblings wasn’t torture enough.”

“Oh, come on. You had a wonderful childhood.” He pauses. “Way better than mine, that’s for sure.”

“I did.” She shakes her head. “And that’s why it will hurt so much when you do go.” Her face morphs into a serious expression again. “I felt nothing when Ozai passed even though he was my biological grandfather. There was nothing to miss, mourn, or grieve because Papa Koda and Iroh gave me so much love, that I never felt like I was looking for his. What am I supposed to do when you’re gone and I can’t hug you anymore because no one will compare to you and your hugs, daddy.”

“You haven’t called me 'daddy' in a long time. I missed it.” He grabs her hand again. “I’m sorry that I scared you, but I will always protect you and look out for you, even when you don't want me to. I'm your father no matter how old you get it. It's my job. And if I could live forever so I can keep watching you grow up, I would. But one day, I will leave this world. But only physically." He pauses. "Every time you start missing me a little too much, come say hi to the spirit world so we can have tea.”

“I’m surprised you’d want a tea party after all the ones Kya and I forced you into when we were children.”

“And that is one of my fondest memories even though you were serving me hot leaf juice. Now, will you do your dear old dad a favor and give me a proper hug and not that too-cool-to-hug-your-weak-and-ailing-father half hug you were doing?”

Izumi rolls her eyes, laughing and leaning forward to hug him the right way. “I thought you said you didn’t have a bad back or arthritis.”

“I’m old. Humor me.”

“Now, are you up for visitors, or is it way past your bedtime, old man? Because Ilah may be 23 but she wants to know if Papa beat up the bad guys."

Zuko smiles. “I do need my rest, but yes, please send in my favorite granddaughter.”

“Ugh.” Izumi groans. “Don’t start that. Kanna is my niece and I adore her but I am not in the mood to break up a fight between those two. You’ve already given me enough grays for the day.”

“I’ve given you grays!? I was gray by 40 because of you and your siblings!”

“You and Mom are the ones who decided to keep having them!”