She was smaller than he'd anticipated. She sat in his lap and kicked her legs back in forth with an adoring smile. She called him Papa and he liked that.
He was glad to say she had her mother's eyes and her skin, but her bending abilities were most definitely from his side.
He always smiled when they talked, happy that his daughter cared for his words and his snuggles just as much as she did for her mother.
"What is that, Papa?" she asked, grabbing at his fingers and poking at the golden ring he wore there. He shifted his knee, making himself more comfortable when he realized that even though she was little she still weighed headily on him.
"It's a ring," he explained in his gentle voice, something he'd learned from his own mother.
"Why do you wear it?" A child's curiosity was never contained, especially in a grown up world, a political world, a Fire Nation world.
He kissed her forehead. "In the Fire Nation, we bond rings with our own flames. I wear it because I'm married to your mommy. I'm bound to her through devotion and love."
The little girl stuck out her tongue in childish disgust.
"Love? That's so gross!" she squealed, her hand still on his.
He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly. "I love her just like I love you." he said into her wispy hair, letting her go when she squirmed and squeaked.
He watched her toddle off into the bedroom, seeing his wife cradling their younger son, all while knowing that what tied them together would last a lifetime and if they were lucky, forever.