how-do-you-do-the-do:Can we talk about this scenefor a minute? Because I tear up literally every dam
how-do-you-do-the-do:Can we talk about this scenefor a minute? Because I tear up literally every damn time I watch it. After losing his son, Irohfought tirelessly to save his nephew from Ozai’s brainwashing, no matter howhard Zuko tried to push him away. But even after years of sticking by himthrough every dead end and reckless gambit, Zuko still goes back to his awful father. Onceagain, Iroh couldn’t save his son and it just kills him. Then the kid shows up with team Avatar, because it turns outsome of those proverbs got through to him after all.But the part that really gets me is Zuko’s perspective.Sitting outside that tent,he’s so damn scared. He’s so convinced Iroh hates him, he won’t even go inwithout a pep talk from Katara. Everyone else can see that Iroh will be proudof what his nephew has done since they last met, but Zuko can’t. When Zuko goesin to see the family he disappointed, he’s braced for yelling and fire and ragebecause that’s what he’s been raised to expect when he screws up. Pissing offhis father got him disgraced, burned, tossed in the street, told he didn’tdeserve to be alive, and shot at with lightening. A lifetime of experience sayshe should bescared. He doesn’t expect to be forgiven, he just wants Iroh to know he’ssorry. And then Iroh’s not even mad. NOT EVEN MAD.Mercy and compassion are so alien to Zuko that immediate forgiveness wasn’teven a remote possibility. He’s so utterly confused, but at the same time, so,so relieved. He hasn’t lost his only family. The only person who stayed by himall those years in exile. The only father who loved him.They both thought they’d lostthe only family they had left. Instead, they find themselves closer thanthey’ve ever been. And I tear up every damn time. -- source link