Disclaimer: Neither Avatar: the Last Airbender nor its characters belong to me, nor will they ever

Epilogue

Some time later…

Zuko woke to the sight of his three year old, blue-eyed daughter staring at him from the edge of the bed.

She smiled, removing her thumb from her mouth, when she saw his eyes open. "Hi, Daddy," she whispered.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, squinting. "Hey, baby. What time is it?"

"Dark," she stated simply.

He angled his head to look at the windows; it was still dark out. He looked to his left, where his wife slept curled up against him peacefully. Why did their daughter never wake her mother? He sighed. "It's too early. Now go back to your crib and go sl—" Zuko's brow furrowed suddenly and he sat up. "Who let you out of your crib?"

It was then that Katara stirred. "What's the matter?" she asked sleepily, rolling over to hug her pillow.

Oh, how he resented that pillow sometimes.

"Your daughter is up before the sun. Again."

"Why is she only my daughter when you think she's misbehaving?"

He frowned but motioned for the brown-haired girl to climb into bed with her parents. She settled between them. "Time get up?" she questioned.

Zuko laughed humorlessly. "No, it's not time to get up. Who let you out of your crib?" he asked again.

"I let me out," the child announced proudly.

"All by yourself?"

She smiled. "Uh-huh!"

Zuko looked at his daughter sternly. "You know how things work in this house, young lady. When you want to get out of your crib, you sit there and cry until someone lets you out. Yes?"

Katara laughed, propping herself up on her elbows. "Zuko, don't tell her that."

"But she's—"

"No 'yes,' I a big girl," the girl declared, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

The couple stared at her, at her serious expression, in momentary shock.

"She takes after you, you know," Zuko stated quietly.

Katara laughed and wrapped the child in her arms. "She most certainly does!" she said, planting a kiss on her daughter's round cheek. "I'm sure her sister has some influence as well."

"Hmm. Well, Leena, I guess it's time to move you to a regular bed, huh?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, her face curled into her mother's neck. "Big girl bed, like Nali haves."

"You didn't wake your sister did you?" Katara asked.

"No, she sleeping. I very quiet."

Zuko had to bite back his smile as the babe in the cradle across the room began to wail.

"Not quiet enough, apparently," Katara mumbled.

"I'll get him," Zuko said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Zuko watched his wife and daughter quietly as he crawled from the bed and crossed the room to where his son slept. The baby, who wasn't four months old yet, wailed for attention, his little face scrunched and red. With tender hands, he picked up his son and held him to his chest.

At times like these, he still couldn't believe they had come this far. He was just waiting to wake up from this dream…but he never did.

Kuzo quieted as Zuko rocked him and carried him towards the bed.

Not even dawn and half his family was awake.

"Mommy," Nali called from the door. "Leena's not in her—oh." She stopped short when she spotted her sister.

"She's in here, sweetheart."

Nali nodded and crossed the room to climb into bed, too. She curled herself around Katara's other side, and Zuko shook his head at the sight.

Now the only one missing is—

Before he could finish that thought, his older son entered the room, arms crossed, looking very upset.

"What's the matter, Roku?"

"His crying woke me up," he whined, pointing to Kuzo. At four, the Fire Nation prince was a young, mirror image of his father.

"Oh, you're all right," Katara said. "Come here."

He, too, piled into bed with his mother and sisters.

"Well, come on, guys. Make room for your father."

Zuko just sat on the edge of the bed, attempting to lull the baby back to sleep. Leena was already halfway there, draped across Katara like an extra appendage. He looked up to see Katara staring at him; she smiled when she caught his eye.

Spirits, she was beautiful. Years and children hadn't aged her a bit, not to him. She would always be that strong, beautiful, stubborn Water Tribe girl, even if she wore a crown in her topknot.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing," he said. No, there was nothing he could say, no words great enough to express the emotions welling inside him. Had a sage or fortune-reader told him he would be this happy, have this family, have the love of this woman, he would have bet his bending against it. His future hadn't been made of this…but with her, it had. And had it not been for the mutual love of a child, they may never have realized it.

But they did.

Katara watched her big, strong husband cradle their infant son to his chest. It still took her breath away. It probably always would.

Contrary to Sokka and Toph's teasing, she would give up all the trappings of royalty marrying Zuko had given her as long as she got to keep her family. Nothing else mattered when she was with them; everything else just seemed to fade away. Nothing else compared to small moments like these that brought her happiness, and nothing ever would.

The End.

Thank you for all of you time, support, feedback, and encouragement. You will never know how much it means. Truly, thank you.

And here's a special sneak-peak at my upcoming drama (and it is very dramatic, and intense, and angst-y). Don't ask me when it'll be published; I don't know. I'm about halfway through at 100 Word document pages, and would like to be a little farther. But I can't resist the tease. I hope you enjoy.

Katara made her way down the plank, determined: shoulders squared, jaw set, head held high. But on the inside, she was a mess. Her mind had gone from processing a thousand different thoughts a second to completely blank. She had stopped fighting as soon as they had left port, and she had stopped crying halfway through the voyage. No, she wouldn't shed one tear in the Fire Nation; she had promised herself that.

An entourage and a palanquin awaited her upon her arrival and, though instincts itched for her to refuse it, she didn't. Incensed that he was not there to greet her himself, she nearly boarded the palanquin without seeing Iroh.

"Lady Katara. My, you look lovely."

She hoped her smile didn't look like the grimace it felt like. "Thank you, Iroh. But please, call me Katara. I am not a lady." Yet.

He looped her arm through his. "It is 'Uncle' then. You must be fair. Now, I don't know about you, but I was never one for riding in these contraptions. I have two working legs, don't I?"

For the first time in nearly a moon, Katara smiled. "I'm with you there."

Iroh waved a hand at the armed guards. "I will be escorting Lady Katara to the palace. You are dismissed."

One brave soul stepped forward. "But the Fire Lord—"

"You can tell the Fire Lord that the Dragon of the West is escorting the lady. I believe he is quite capable of protecting her, don't you?"

The man swallowed. "Yes, general."

Iroh nodded and began to lead Katara up the busy streets that made the Fire Nation capital city. He pointed out various vendors and shopping districts and particularly good fire flake kiosks, no doubt to welcome her to the city in his own way. Yet despite his comforting presence, what awaited her at the palace ebbed at her mind, keeping her distracted.

"Katara?"

She started. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked if you'd like to get some tea before we return to the palace. I know the nicest little place—not as good as The Jasmine Dragon, of course—"

"Tea sounds wonderful," she interrupted with a sigh of relief.

Once they were seated and served, Iroh noticed Katara had touched neither her tea nor her pastry. "I am sorry about this, Katara," he said, patting her hand. "If I'd had a say—"

She shook her head, feigning a smile. "It's fine. I'm fine, really. It was a long journey, that's all."

Iroh pursed his lips as he searched her face. "I do not believe you," he said finally.

She shrugged but could no longer meet his eye. "I will do what I must for my people."

Sympathy filled the old man's eyes, and he squeezed her hand gently.

Observing that he had finished his tea, she rubbed her palms over her knees nervously. "Shall we go?"

"There's no rush—"

"I think," she said, "I'd rather just get it over with. If you don't mind, that is."

Iroh stood, again offering her his arm as they made their way down the last stretch of street to the palace. The large gates of the entrance opened at their arrival. Guards, lining the path and stairs, bowed as they passed. She suddenly felt as if she needed the support of his arm as he shot a stream of fire into the pneumatic pipes that kept the palace of the Fire Nation sealed.

"You're to see the Fire Lord in the throne room before you settle in your rooms," he said, almost apologetically.

She nodded, afraid of what might come out if she opened her mouth.

"Shall I accompany you?" he asked as they stood outside the golden doors of the throne room.

She began to shake her head, then hesitated. "If you could just…not leave."

He patted her arm before releasing her. "Of course. I'll be right here when you're ready. Remember, his council is with him at the moment. Try to forgive him if he treats you with…offhandedness."

Katara bristled. She did not come all this way to be treated with "offhandedness." But she asked, "What am I to do?"

"Do not look around as you walk in. Kneel and bow to the Fire Lord, but do not press your forehead to the floor—you are considered royalty and therefore more of an equal than a lesser. Then you bow respectfully to the council, who will bow in return. The Fire Lord should instruct you from there."

She sighed.

"Are you all right?"

No. "I will be."

Iroh gave her a sad smile. "I'm so sorry, child. You are very strong."

Not strong enough to get myself out of this mess.

He opened the throne room doors for her and she walked in alone. In her peripheral, she could see the council of about twenty men seated on cushions on both sides of the dais, looking down their haughty noses at her; but she kept her eyes on said dais and the man seated on it. She was somewhat relieved that the wall of flames was up; she didn't have to meet his eyes. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she knelt, and did everything exactly as Iroh had instructed. Then she waited…for what felt like forever.

Finally, she felt the flames before her recede and heard footsteps as the Fire Lord stepped down the raised dais. A hand was put in front of her face and she grabbed it, allowing him to help her to her feet.

"Lady Katara," Zuko addressed her, kissing her knuckles and bowing. "Thank you for coming. I trust your travels were comfortable?"

"They were, thank you."

She thought she heard him sigh. "Good. I'm glad."

She finally looked up to meet his gaze and found the look they held hesitant, wary, and guarded.

A member of the council spoke up. "And where is Chief Hakoda?" Another member nodded in accordance.

She saw Zuko's jaw clench before she answered. "My father was making last-minute arrangements when I left. He wanted everything in order but thought it best for me to arrive as scheduled. He, and the rest of his party, shouldn't be too far behind me."

"This is…very unexpected. His arrival should have been—"

Katara barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Politics, she could deal with; politicians, on the other hand….

"Enough," Zuko barked. "Lady Katara has had a long journey. She can answer any remaining questions you have later. You have seen she has arrived safely and in good health; I know this was, of course, your main concern. That should ease your worries for now, at least. Besides, you were all given notice of her party's delayed arrival when her letter came, informing us of this occurrence. And the letter from Chief Hakoda himself that affirmed her claim and sent his apologies."

None of them refuted his claim. Zuko seemed satisfied with their silence. "You are dismissed."

Mumbling under their breath, the men of the council shuffled out, and the grand door slammed loudly behind them.

An awkward essence filled the air and she hesitantly turned toward Zuko. Immediately, she was struck by the memory of the last time they had seen each other: she had laughingly rushed across the room to greet him, throwing her arms around his neck.

How times had changed.

A twist on the old, overused "arranged marriage" plot, I promise. Keep your eyes open.