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Of the increasingly large number of things in his life which can only be Avatar-related, this is definitely one of them. Zuko stands on the steps of the palace and looks down. The dragon looks back.
The guards raise their weapons and Zuko has to shout them down. "No. I said no! It's all right. Leave me." They look at him like he's crazy but they still back away. They've been doing that a lot lately. The rumours seem to have painted the new Fire Lord as a master of unknown firebending techniques - a genius able to raze the entire kingdom with one breath of flame. Only if he got mad at them for any reason, of course. Mai probably encouraged the stories, deciding they would amuse him. If nothing else, they can be useful on nights like this. What's he supposed to do with a dragon in the grounds? Other than admire it. When he was younger he had dreams like this.
Zuko sighs. For a being who is supposedly everywhere and anywhere (rumour is clearly running riot), Aang can be difficult to get hold of. Zuko writes the message and sets it alight. The ashes dance into the midnight sky. It's mostly a symbolic gesture, but Aang has to be around here somewhere. There's no one else who would do this for him.
Zuko doesn't wait long. Aang touches down behind him on a tiny gust of air, laughing. "Do you like it?"
"Aang, what are you…?"
"I have to restore balance, remember? This guy wants to talk to you. We're not sure how yet but maybe if we- or- hey. We don't have to talk right now. You look tired."
"So do you." So do they all. Apparently rebuilding takes as much out of you as the war. There's a lot to do and not a lot of people who can do it. They don't have much time for just enjoying the fact that there's a dragon there, right in front of him.
Aang smiles, little kid and the Avatar all at once. "Hey, Zuko."
"What?"
"Come dance with me."
"Aang." But Aang is already holding onto him, pulling him down towards the courtyard. The dragon roars – dancing colours in the flame. The fire spins around them and they're close enough – in tune enough – that he can hear Aang breathing. The steps are familiar; they practiced them in wartime until he could make the forms in his dreams. This is like a dream, dancing fire-bending forms within the dragon's blaze. Aang following his steps as though Zuko could still teach him something. Aang presses his palm against Zuko's shoulder, part of the dance. Zuko mirrors the gesture, sharing the weight. "Hey, Aang," he says. There is fire in his breath now.
"What is it?" Aang asks.
"Nothing," Zuko says. "Nothing. I mean. Thank you."
Aang grins and shifts into the next form. "I missed you too." Which wasn't what Zuko had said at all, but it makes no difference. They're dancing in dragon-fire and all their efforts will be worth it in the end.