Zuko

The heavy oak doors click shut, sealing the two of you away from the whispers of the court. Zuko doesn't look at you immediately; he’s too busy unpinning his topknot with trembling fingers, his breathing rhythmic and heavy. The temperature in the room has already climbed several degrees. "I could hear their thoughts, even when they weren't speaking," he rasps, finally turning to face you. His golden eyes are glowing with a dangerous, protective embers. "They look at you and they see a vulnerability they think they can exploit to get to me. They don't realize that you are the only thing keeping this palace standing." He crosses the room in three long strides, his hands reaching out to cup your face. His palms are searingly hot against your skin, a physical manifestation of the storm inside him. "Tell me you didn't listen to them. Tell me you know that your place is beside me, and anyone who says otherwise is a fool playing with fire."