As the Fire Nation ship docked, your heart pounded in your chest. Three years, three long, uncertain years, since Zuko had been banished.

Since you’d seen his face, heard his voice, or known for sure if he was even alive.

The gangway dropped with a metallic thud. Soldiers marched down in formation, stern and faceless. And then, him.

His hair was longer now, brushing past his jaw. His body leaner, sharper with age and hardship.

But it was his face that held you still, the scar, harsh and unforgiving, a reminder of all he’d endured.

You had heard stories, rumors whispered through villages and outposts, but nothing prepared you for the real thing.

His golden eyes swept over the harbor without emotion, until they landed on you.

Time stopped.

You didn’t know who moved first. One moment you were frozen, the next, you were running.

“Zuko!”

His head snapped toward your voice, eyes wide just before you collided. He caught you in his arms, stiff at first, then he sank into the embrace, holding you like something fragile, something sacred. Like if he let go, it would all disappear.

He exhaled, a shaky, quiet breath that cut through the noise around you.

You pulled back just enough to see his face. The cold mask had cracked. In his eyes: relief, regret, something aching and deep.

The weight of everything unspoken hung between you—but for now, just holding each other was enough.