Skinny Love

Zuko

"Zuko." My voice came out, somewhat hushed.

He just stood there in his Fire Nation robes—the garments of a Firelord. Despite this, his hair still remained in his usual topknot with the Fire Nation clasp holding it in place.

Studying him, I noticed how much he has changed. He had grown a bit in that past years and had gotten even broader and more muscle toned. But it wasn't this that was startling, it was how much more angular his face had become; the sharpness of his jaw.

It was clear that the young Firelord was no longer a boy, but a man.

The golden rays sent shadows across his face and highlighted his whole body which was turned facing me.

Comfort coursed through me as I found the sameness in his kind eyes; always slightly more tender when set on me.

At that moment I couldn't help myself, I rushed towards Zuko and engulfed him in a tight hug.

My head rested on his hard chest as I absorbed his familiar scent and touch.

"Who's this?" He broke away, raising an eyebrow questioningly at the little girl still in my arm.

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I grappled for a response.

Ember?

My daughter?

Our daughter?

"Just a girl I'm looking after for now." I answered, trying to keep my voice even.

That was stupid.

I knew this would end badly.

He bent his head to see the lovely two year old hiding in her parka hood from the handsome man who also happened to be her father.

He gazed upon her fondly, his masculine features softening.

"She looks like you." His words accusing, but voice still gentle.

As much as I wished I could just tell him she was my daughter, I didn't want him to take pity on me for being a single mother at the mere age of seventeen years.

"Why are you here Zuko?" I changed the subject, avoiding the topic named Ember.

He narrowed his eyes, but obliged to the question, returning to his rigid posture.

"I came to see you actually."

"To see me? Why?"

"You see, the wound that Azula inflicted on me has been reopened after an intense sparring match." He scratched his head awkwardly, pink suffusing his cheeks.

Part of me cherished the awkwardness that hadn't changed a bit.

"Spirits, Zuko. When?" My motherly tone kicked in as I set my daughter down to access his injury.

"Just last moon," he replied cautiously.

Seeing the awe in my face, he regained his regal stance and attitude.

"I'm fine."

"Fine?!"

"Until it got infected."

The embarrassment had returned.