Takes place some months after Measure Each Step ends

It was a rare thing to see Azula alone. She sat in Ursa's garden cradling a cup of tea in her hands, and she watched the rustling leaves of the palm trees contemplatively. She'd gained a new stillness during her pregnancy that Iroh had never seen in her before. Maybe it wouldn't have been so surprising, but she had been at the South Pole until a month ago. She'd returned enormously pregnant and strangely content.

When he approached her table, she looked up at him without a shift in her expression. Her golden gaze was unusually gentle.

"May I join you?" he asked.

She nodded and sipped her tea. Azula wasn't being unwelcoming; he had no doubt she would have sent him away if she didn't want company.

Iroh waved away the servant after the man placed a second cup down for him. He poured his own tea and took a breath. Jasmine, and by the hint of mint it was a blend from Gaoling. It wasn't his favorite tea, but his daughter was fond of it. Azula had not spoken so he asked her, "How are you feeling?"

"Like an over-inflated war balloon," Azula replied. Despite her words, she seemed happy. Far too happy to be ready to have that baby. She was still carrying it high, as pregnant as she was. She was beautiful and very womanly like this. She reminded him of Ursa, even with the sharper planes of her face and the unmasked intensity of her eyes.

Azula took a breath and winced. "And tired of my child using my internal organs as kicking practice."

Iroh watched the subtle flutter across Azula's belly. He itched to reach out and feel the movement of her unborn child, but there were certain liberties no one ever took with Azula—unless that person was Katara. She glanced at him, sighed, and rolled her eyes. "Honestly. I won't miss my body serving as the medium of communication between a child and the world. Touch if you want."

It was enough to bring tears to his eyes; Azula made no comment. Iroh placed his hand on Azula's silk-covered belly and grinned at the flutter against his hand.

Azula sipped her tea. "Since I've returned, the council members have all switched seats. All the women arrive early to sit as close to me as possible, and they all giggle and gasp when they see my child trying to stick its foot through my uterus. If Zuko extends his vacation, I will kill him and then resurrect him from the dead to become the fulltime Fire Lord again."

Iroh laughed at the mental picture of the council room and then because Azula had been so affectionate with her threat against her brother. The baby kicked again before Iroh withdrew his hand. He had no doubt Katara kept careful track of the baby's growth; he wondered how much Katara could tell about the child. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

Azula studied her teacup. "Katara tried to keep that secret for all of a week. It's a boy."

A boy. A son. A grandson.

Azula met his eyes. "May we name him Lu Ten?"

He had never expected it, and his surprise melted into sorrow and joy and love. Iroh began to weep. Though he couldn't speak, he nodded. Azula touched his hand, and he took it and squeezed.

The baby was crying in his arms, the soft cry of a newborn. He was a quiet baby, but he was strong and healthy. Iroh cradled that tiny velvety dark head in his hand and soothed him. "Lu Ten," he said. His voice was thick, but he smiled as the baby opened his blue eyes.

Iroh began to sing.

"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."

He said, "Welcome home, little boy."