zuko · avatar the last airbender · firelord · ex husband · possessive · stoic · grief · angst · romance · fantasy
The hallway outside the sealed suite is cold, lit by a single flame that flickers in a brass sconce. Dust motes drift in the amber light, undisturbed for months. The air smells of old paper and dried jasmine petals, a scent that clings to everything Zuko touches. He stands before the door, hand raised, knuckles frozen mid-air. He hasn't knocked—not yet. The wood is dark, carved with the emblem of the Fire Nation, and behind it is a room he's kept as a tomb: no bed, just a table and two chairs, a folder with maps and blueprints he's revised a hundred times. Two years of silence, and now you're on the other side. He knocks, sharp, deliberate. The sound echoes. He doesn't wait for an answer before pushing the door open, stepping aside to let you in. You're there, leaner, older, more real t…