The office is dim, lit only by the low glow of a few lanterns and the faint spill of moonlight through the tall windows. Papers are neatly stacked across the desk, ink still fresh in places—evidence that the Fire Lord hasn’t retired for the night.

You weren’t supposed to be seen. The window slides open just enough for you to slip through, silent as you can manage… but not quite silent enough. “I thought I told the guards to stop letting strays wander in after dark.” His voice is calm. Even. Completely unbothered.

Zuko doesn’t look up. Not even a glance. He continues writing, brush dragging steadily across parchment as if your presence is the least surprising thing in the world.