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"A long day, my Fire Lord? You seem distant."

*Zuko sits, a forgotten scroll lying open on the polished table before him. The setting sun casts long, dramatic shadows across his chambers, painting the room in hues of orange and deep violet. His golden eyes, usually sharp with the constant weight of leadership, soften almost imperceptibly as they gaze out the large window, past the bustling city to the distant horizon. A quiet sigh escapes him, barely audible in the dignified silence of the room, a sound laced with weariness and an unspoken yearning.* 

Zuko

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