The curtains peel back slowly and Zuko can feel the soft padding of his daughter's hands crawling up his chest. He pretends not to notice but a powerful tug to his hair sends him lurching and Honoura reeling with laughter.

"Why do you always feel the need to pull daddy's hair in the morning?" He grabs her little hands and pulls her under the satin covers. She laughs as his breath tickles her face.

"You have such pretty hair, papa." Even though she proclaims this, her sticky hands are always threading through it trying to braid it, or just stroking it. He swears he is going to go bald one of these days. He rises slowly from his bed, bones creaking slightly from growing older. His daughter halfway clings to him and crawls up onto his shoulders.

"Daddy, why are you always so grumpy in the morning?" She places her fingers on the corners of his lips and pulls them upwards.

"Smile!" He laughs as she does so and grasps her tiny hands in his, kissing them. He carries her out into the garden where he sees his Uncle lounging near the pond, feeding crumbs to the turtle ducks and sipping Ginseng tea. Honoura scrambles off his shoulders and runs towards her grandfather.

"Why hello there my little turtleduck!" He scoops her into his arms and gives her small pieces of bread. She studies them slowly, her young mind trying to decide what to do with them. Finally she just chucks them into the water, scaring the creatures making them swim away.

She sticks out her lower lip into a pout. "Why did they do that, Grandpa?"

"You frightened them. Turtle ducks are gentle animals which must be nurtured in order to earn a person's trust." Iroh places more crumbs into his hand and gently lays his hand in the water. Slowly the ducks start to return, nipping their beaks at the bread. Soon he's teaching Honoura the same thing, and she smiles with delight as the ducks flock to her palm.

"Daddy look!"

Zuko smiles as he remembers his mother teaching him the same thing. He remembers Ursa's soft hands like it was yesterday as they sat near the pond. Her warm embraces and tender smile. It is a comfort to know that his daughter has something that he never quite had; a family. His mother would be proud of him he thinks.

Honoura screeches suddenly as the mama turtleduck latches onto her finger. Iroh quickly dislodges it; comforting the crying girl. Zuko rushes over, kissing his daughter's fingers and slowly wiping her tears.

"Why did it bite me, daddy?"

His mother's words echo in his head and he finds himself repeating the same thing. "Because that's what mother's do. And father's I might add."

Iroh strokes her hair gently as tears still stream down her face. He starts to sing quietly under his breath:

"Leaves from the vine
Falling so slow
Like fragile, tiny shells
Drifting in the foam

Little soldier boy
Come marching home
Brave soldier boy
Comes marching home."

"Grandpa, why are you crying?"

He smiles and wipes his tears away. "It's just someone that I love is gone now. But now I have you so now it doesn't hurt so much."

Honoura beams at the small bundle now wrapped in her arms. Zuko, now aged quite a bit, smiles as he caresses the small face of his new grandchild.

"I think you'll like the name I've picked out for him, Papa."

"What is his name?"

"Would you like to hold your new grandchild, Iroh?" Tears leak out of the crinkled scar on the right side of his face. She places her son in his arms. The great General Iroh, the dragon of the west, had passed away not too long ago. He had finally gone to be with his son, but had left a gaping hole behind.

"He kind of resembles you a little bit, I think."

"Yeah, he does."

"He's going to be following in the footsteps of a great legacy."

Zuko stares down into the sleeping face of young Iroh. Memories well up inside of him of his 'father' and how he had always been there for him. How he had supported him through every decision, even the bad ones. Iroh had tried to push him in the right direction and had always wanted him to find his own path. And he had found his path. He had raised a beautiful daughter and now had a handsome grandson. Iroh had always wanted the best for him. Now he was going to do the same with the next generation.

"Leaves from the vine
Falling so slow
Like fragile, tiny shells
Drifting in the foam

Little soldier boy
Come marching home
Brave soldier boy
Comes marching home."