Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

A/N: This story was written during sociology after taking a test. It delves deeper into the relationship between Iroh and his son and Iroh and his nephew. Answers are reveled about Lu Ten's mother, his past, and his death.

"His Smile" is just a short and sweet story.

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His Smile
(A Short Story)
Written By: Cylisy

Iroh sipped despondently on his warm cup of tea in the pale darkness of the early morning. A kettle, mostly full, rested next to him in case he required a refill. There was a storm raging outside which gave the atmosphere an even darker feel. Heaven's fury curled in the sky, banging and roaring in a spectacular display of its power. The Dragon of the West sat on the thatched floor, listened to the tempest, and watched his nephew's door.

The storm was already underfoot when Iroh had stirred from his slumber. His night had been restless and he had been prematurely ripped from his slumber by the dreams that had haunted his thoughts. The dreams shook and rattled his mind, reminding him of sorrow filled days from long ago. The recurring image of a wounded son gathered in his lap persisted Iroh's dreams. He had dreamt this dream every night since Lu Ten's death and he had grown accustomed to them. They were very much heartbreaking indeed but he was able to get through them much easier than he had in the beginning but the most recent dreams were far different than the ones he was acquainted with.

The dream had begun like all the others with a bittersweet memory of his son's birth. He remembered his baby's first cries as he entered the world and then he recalled receiving the horrifying news of his wife's impending death. She had hemorrhaged during labor and there was not chance of survival. Iroh stayed with his love, cradling her soft, slender hand in his own while holding their dearest child in the crook of his other arm. The day after Lu Ten's birth, the princess was laid to rest.

From this point, the dream entered a far more surreal sequence of visions of Lu Ten's aging. Iroh caught glimpses of his son as the child learned to walk, talk, run, and play. He reminisced in the time Lu Ten misused his Firebending and had lit the curtains in the dining hall up in flames. He watched a game of tag that should have lasted much longer than it did. The sequence ended with a lasting portrait of Lu Ten's most precious gift; his smile. Oh, how Iroh loved his son's tender smile. The boy was soft at heart, always caring for everyone. Iroh loved him so very, very much and wished for his smile, his laugh everyday and while he knew that he would never hear his laugh or see his smile ever again he stilled wished for them with all of this heart.

The coming of the war was when the reverie drew sour. It had been a stormy day, just as this was engulfed in a raging tempest. It was the last week of the six hundred day siege of Ba Sing Se. The troops were sent out on a simple mission but they would inevitably be called back in for the last time. Lu Ten was a young man, a soldier, and he stood before his father, the General, with much pride. General Iroh smiled in spite of the war and informed his dearest son that he would be leading one of the troops into battle. The young man had hesitated, but he knew his duties. He smiled and left for battle wearing that tender smile of his.

It began to storm when Lu Ten marched down the hill—a dark omen of the time to come. The mission went completely wrong. Lu Ten's troops were ambushed by surprise and while they fought back as hard as they could, it was not near enough. The troops were overwhelmed and ruthlessly slaughtered. When Iroh received the news he released himself of all duties and rushed to the battlefield. He found Firebenders and Earthbenders littering the land with broken bodies. General Iroh searched for only a few minutes to find his son but those few precious minutes had been the longest of his entire life. His son was barely alive when Iroh discovered him blanketed in his own blood.

Iroh cradled his son's body in his lap, ignoring as the blood seeped into his clothes. He carefully rocked his body as he had once done when his son was a child. Lu Ten opened his eyes, tiredly, and looked to his father. He smiled.

The Dragon of the West pulled his son to his chest and wept as hard as he had when his wife had died. Why did his son have to die? Why? Why? Why…

"Father…"

His words were still fresh in Iroh's mind, as if they were said yesterday and not nearly six years ago.

"Don't…cry…father. I'm glad you…came…glad I could see you…one…last…time."

Iroh held him as tightly as he could without causing him more pain. He hushed his son, begged him to not waste his energy on talking even though the both of them knew that he was not going to live.

"I love you, father. I'll see you…again…right?"

"Yes, my son. I'll see you again," he spoke with choked words.

Lu Ten died with his boyish smile painted on his face, completely at peace with everything. It was a smile that would last forever.

This scene usually brought the end to the dream, but this stormy night had been different. The storm did not lift but continued to grow stronger as Iroh's body struggled to wake and his mind refused to rouse. His son's body began to morph in his lap. It slowly shifted into a slightly smaller frame, with a harder face, shorter hair, and the smile was completely gone. The face was younger, scowling, and was branded with a large gruesome scar completely covering the left eye and cheek. Iroh was holding his dead nephew. His second son was lying dead in his arms, but it was not his death that scared him. It was the scowl he wore that frightened him. He had died without peace.

Iroh knew his nephew was struggling to find peace but as the thought that his nephew would die without ever knowing peace alarmed the old man. What could he do to bring resolution to his nephew? To keep him from dying with an unfulfilled life? Just what could he do?

"Uncle?"

Iroh jumped at his name and looked up to see his nephew alive and well, scowling as he usually did. The dream was now just a memory. The old man smiled at the sight of Zuko standing awkwardly in the doorframe, dressed in his pajamas, with a slightly concerned frown hidden behind the dark scowl.

"You're crying…" Zuko said before looking shamefully away. It was forbidden to point out a man's tears.

Iroh raised a hand to his eyes and wiped his tears away. He softly said, "I am, aren't I?"

The uncle and son were quiet. Iroh lifted himself up slowly, cursing his aging body, and stood as tall as he could manage. He walked to his nephew, Zuko eyeing him wearily, and smiled at his relative. He reached out and enveloped the young man into a strong, warm hug. Zuko flailed around a bit before giving in and letting the old man hug him. Iroh stepped back, patted his shoulder and laughed. He returned to his tea filling content with himself.

While his uncle was paying him no mind, a smile briefly touched Zuko's lips.

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A/N: If you would, don't forget to check out my multi-chapter story "Lighting the Fire" staring Zuko.