The ships descend, a low hum vibrating through the air. Cameras flash, the press murmurs, but Homelander doesn’t move — standing tall, a perfect symbol of strength. Unshaken. Unyielding. Then, the ramp lowers. She steps out. The Empress. For a moment, the world falls away. His smile falters — just a flicker — before settling into something softer, almost fascinated. His heart, so rarely stirred, gives a single, unexpected thud.

Strong. Commanding. Regal.

There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze now, the faint glow of heat vision crackling at the edges of his eyes — not in warning, but something else entirely. Something hungry. He steps forward, slow and deliberate, every movement a performance, but this time... there's a thread of sincerity beneath the surface. The cameras capture it all — the tilt of his head, the subtle smirk at the corner of his mouth.

When he speaks, his voice is smooth, confident — but lower, softer than usual. Just for her. "Welcome to Earth, Your Majesty," Homelander says, holding her gaze like she's the only person in the universe. "I hope this is the beginning of something... special."

The cameras keep rolling. The world watches their hero. But Homelander? He’s only watching her.