#management implementation recommendations

you started working in this dessert-cafe job just a little month ago. you've learned so much from your co-workers, from learning how to organize and fold boxes to memorizing each pastry and their ingredients for when a customer perks up their interest.

you mostly got trained in the cashier position, later shifted to barista, and now you can handle both easily.

you decided to earn some extra money during college and the job decided to hire some more people. you were nervous because you haven't worked in a while, but you hoped your skills and ambitions interested the hiring managers. fortunately, the interview went super well and luckily, you easily were able to be trained by the following week.

you sucked at conversing. you've worked cashier before, you've talked to people but you only had a script implemented in your brain when taking orders.

when customers compliment you and ask about your apron pins, you feel awkward to reply back. it's not that you don't wanna talk to them, but you don't know how to keep a conversation with a stranger when there is a line of orders. you feel rushed and overwhelmed to keep up a smile for a long period of time.

you've already met regulars in the cafe, witnessing how they interact with your coworkers casually. rather jealous, it was refreshing to see them be treated as if they were best friends. it makes you smile. one of the regulars you meet is a guy named jungwon. everyone, including your coworkers know him.

since it's cold season, he would come in with his gigantic, fluffy green bandana-like scarf and white gloves that had cat stitching to it. you complimented his gloves and he smiled back while saying thank you. the conversation died quickly when his order came out almost immediately.

you already have his order memorized. he would order a strawberry tart and an iced tea around the morning time. you remembered that he asked if there's any non-caffeinated drinks and how he dislikes them. you agreed along with him, recommending the iced tea that was added to the menu not too long ago. when it's super cold, hot chocolate would suffice his appetite. he has a child-like palette and it makes you smile because of his pure looks.

he would stay inside for hours to do work, whether with books or his laptop, in his regular hoodie, and sometimes wearing glasses.

you're not gonna lie. jungwon does have a cute baby-like face and how he has that bright energy that resonates inside the room the moment he steps in. he reminds you of a cat. a cute, curious creature.

whenever he smiles, his eyes smile along with him and you like his dimples too whenever you see it. he looks like a nice guy, you assumed.

the door opening with its bell made you snap back to reality.

it seemed that jungwon came with two of his friends.

"good morning," you greeted him with a smile as you stopped making boxes. you smiled to yourself to see that scarf that looks big yet comfortable to him.

"hey good morning." jungwon greeted back, walking towards you. you see his friends find a table to sit.

you decided to be santa and give his order free. only because of how many time he has ordered and continued to be a loyal customer.

(and because of his cute face)

you tilted your head with a slight smile as you looked at him, thinking. usually you would ask, "strawberry tart right?" and giggles would fill up the room. he would excitedly reply, "you remembered!" and that smile made you feel proud inside because he looked like a happy kid. he does have a nice smile.

but today, you're gonna go off-script.

"i got you actually." you said, looking at him with a confident expression. jungwon raised his eyebrows and blinked at you, looking confused on what you said.

you chuckled at his reaction, nodding your head. "yeah," you started walking to the barista side.

"an iced tea and strawberry tart right?" you confirmed, grabbing a cup to make the drink.

jungwon looked taken aback. he processed what is happening and lets out a slight scoff, his eyes starting to smile before his lips. he looks at you with awe, touched by your actions.

"yeah.." he lightly said, putting his wallet back in his pocket as you get into work.

"thank you." he genuinely spoke.

"it's my pleasure." you smiled reassuringly, pouring the powder in a separate cup for the hot water to dissolve.

he then turns around to walk to his seat as he will come back once you'll called him. your expression falls a bit when he left, hoping that you would make a conversation with him but you ignored it, focused on making the drink and letting the music inside the store flow into your ears.

"oh my god oh my god oh my god-" jungwon mutters under his breath too quickly for his friends to hear what he was saying. jungwon slides into his seat, his arms placed on the table and his head down with a clear, panicked expression.

"what happened?" riki, one of jungwon's closest friend, looks down at him as he was scrolling on his tiktok foryou page. he exchanges glances with sunoo who looks just as concerned.

"you guys didn't see?" jungwon looked up and whined with his lips pouted. jungwon is lucky that his back is faced to you so you won't see how red he is, and it's not from the cold weather.

"why what happened?" sunoo, another close friend of his asked.

"she remembered my order and gave it to me for free!" jungwon said as if he found gold on the sidewalk. jungwon then covers his face into his arms once again when his heart’s pounding.

riki and sunoo rolled their eyes, thinking it was something more serious. to them, jungwon's a little dramatic.

one month ago, when you've started working, it was on a random tuesday. when jungwon walked inside craving a chocolate croissant, he opened the door, and there you were. he found you organizing pastries on the display shelves, making them look pretty. he noticed a small smile tugged on your when you’ve finished, feeling proud whenever customers point and gasp when you placed them.

you had your short hair be into braids, giving you a cheerful look despite wearing a dark-colored uniform.

to jungwon, you were sparkling. he felt dumbfounded, as if everything around him was going by mindlessly, but his fixed stare to you was frozen. he felt something weird with you and he didn't know what it was. but he knew it when you smiled to him.

full of warmth and radiancy.

you sounded like you care. even though it’s just an order, you sounded attentive yet caring. he thinks it might be stupid to think if you care about his order, because truly, you sound like it.

sometimes he would hear you laugh with your coworkers and it felt like it was giving him strength when he was tired with his own work. he smiled when you tried attempting to make conversations with the customers. sometimes when you’re feeling unwell, he would magically pass you medicine as if he was your genie.

at first, you felt weirded out since he was a stranger but you realized that he has no bad intentions to you. he saw you coughing and passed you medicine which made you heart warm. you thought of it innocently.

at times, he would tune in with the conversations since he would sit near you and remember the things that you'd say.

you like blueberries.

winter is your favorite season.

art design is your major.

you're allergic to pollen and shrimp.

you like keychains and animals. sea otters to be exact.

everything about you screamed perfect to him and he wanted to talk to you. learn about you. but didn't have the confidence or how to approach without looking weird.

his once a week usual visit to the cafe became twice, to three times a week. his frequent visits also made you more curious of him.

"she's so nice..." jungwon mumbled his words.

"well yeah, you're a regular here..." riki said bluntly, receiving an arm slap from sunoo from sounding discouraging.

riki and sunoo finally saw you after getting curiously impatient to know what you look like. jungwon wasn't lying when he called you beautiful. you really are, which impressed sunoo and riki.

jungwon immediately texted his friends about you. every time whenever he comes by and sees you. even when you're not working, he complains and pouts to his friends for not seeing you. he would find a way to make time for you. half of his friends told him to straight up confess from his ass while the other half were teasing him about having the potential to start a relationship. riki stated that he was a freak for being (his nice words)

"too romantic"

"go talk to her! she's lonely right now." sunoo pouted, turning to see you. it was true, you were the only person on counter right now while your shift lead organizes the pastries. more of your co-workers will come by the next hour as it will get more busy later on.

"i can't..it's too late..." jungwon spares a glance at you, feeling down for missing an opportunity to talk to you.

"jungwon!" you called out his name. his strawberry tart and ice tea (you thought that his order fits his persona well) were displayed for him to get it.

jungwon gets up, gulps as he places a hand on his chest to calm his fast beating heart. he exhales as he turns around and sees you cleaning up the area.

he tries to be nonchalant and go up, but he immediately smiles when you looked at him with a bright expression. he can’t help himself.

"have a good one." you said to him as jungwon feels so giddy inside. he picks up the plate and the drink.

"you got a new pin.." jungwon nibbled his bottom lip, as if nonchalant when he had noticed it already when he walked inside the cafe. “i like it..” you looked down and smiled to yourself when he mentioned your new hello kitty pin added to the collection of pins in your apron.

"you have a good eye." you complimented. jungwon awkwardly coughed as he nodded. "i do..." jungwon replied but it's like a whisper.

you scrunched your eyebrows. jungwon looked at you and you looked back, awkward silence filling up. you were the first to laugh.

what was that about?

"alright, enjoy your morning." you didn't mind if it was awkward, he looked cute just now.

"you too." jungwon's lips curled, forming a dimple. you replied with a thanks as you go back on register.

you wanted to curl yourself up on your bed. you almost screamed a loud. you felt so distressed back there, being so close, in front of him, made you feel so nervous. you felt like you were fumbling really hard in front of him.

you thought to yourself, did i look dumb?

you gulped, frowning as your eyes glued to the counter. your thoughts taking over once again as you probably thought you lessened your chances of having a normal conversation with jungwon. jungwon’s friends needed him to make a move asap.

"trust me it's gonna work." sunoo encouraged, tossing him a piece of paper and a pen as riki snacks on the strawberry tart.

riki and sunoo was about to throw up, seeing that awkward interaction caused by jungwon. they wonder how you were smiling and laughing with him just now.

"a-are you sure?" jungwon panicked, grabbing them as his eyes widened in fear.

"yes yes yes!" sunoo said quickly, urging him to go before both sunoo and riki gets stressed and get a scolding.

you looked up and see jungwon come back. you both exchanged a small smile, "what else do you need?" you asked as you tilted your head, curious of what jungwon will get.

"your number." jungwon just stands there., staring at you with an awkward position.

you do the same because what?

your smile drops and jungwon almost cries when he noticed. your whole body freezes up. "what did you say?"

jungwon gulps before he starts feeling hot both inside and out. he takes a moment to speak.

"i-i've been wanting to talk to you for a while now..and i wanted to know more about you..." jungwon stutters says as if he's feeling guilty. you looked down at the counter and see him slide the paper and pen close to you. your heart quickens at the sight. he sees you thinking and it’s killing him.

you looked at jungwon and his eyes are waiting for your response. every second feels crucial. the silence’s full of tension. he's mentally preparing himself in case you reject him. he stares with you with his doe eyes and your body softens, taking a breather.

you smile. the same smile when you first met him.

you grabbed the pen, eagerly writing your number on the paper. you bit your bottom lip, trying to hold in the biggest smile you could ever make.

you slid the paper back to him as you looked away, controlling your smile.

"i'll be looking forward to your text mr. strawberry tart." you said as both of your faces are red but your hearts are beating as one. it was the start of a blossoming relationship between you and jungwon.

No Heels (Developed): Riddle has a height complex. He won't make a show of it, but you wearing heels does emasculate him. Especially if you're already taller naturally. For his sake, you choose to slay your outfits in flats.

"Are those new loafers? Oh - no, they're lovely. The embroidery is exquisite and I can see why Pomefiore's Housewarden models for their brand. I merely thought you preferred the heeled saddle-shoes we saw during the past weekend trip. I must have been mistaken. Never mind me. You look wonderful."

Playing Brain Teasers (Inherited): Riddle has this thing with memory - you don't know if he's really into preventing old-age Alzheimer's or what. He carries a book of teaser games like Sudoku, etc. for when he has downtime and you eventually get into them too.

"Oh! My Rose, would you care to join me for lunch? Trey's siblings recently mailed in a large collection of cross-words. You'll find they are both educational and entertaining - hm? I do not seem the 'type' for word-games? I assure you, even I can relax on occasion. There is no need to look so surprised." <- Riddle's been making a grand effort to do things he enjoys and become more personable. Trey's siblings did not send the collection. Riddle went into town and picked it out on his own. He also found a book on organizing excursions since he's big on quality time. He is dead-set on not being a neglectful or 'boring' partner.

Swear Jar (Developed): Tired of Riddle collaring Ace for his vulgar tongue, you suggest a Heartslabyul swear jar. When the jar gets filled, the money can be used to fund things like study materials and renovations for the dorm. Riddle liked this idea, but now implements it on anyone who sets foot in the Heartslabyul. Considering you spend most of your time there, you've had to develop a vast vocabulary beyond swearing. Oh - you also unironically use the word 'fiddlesticks' now.

Habits he steals:

Useless Expenses (Inherited): You are an enabler without a doubt. Riddle has always functioned with the bare bones - with function and efficiency being the number one priority. Ever so slowly - you've spoiled him with aesthetically pleasing stationary. At first all the needless purchases felt redundant - why buy the pillowcases with flowers when plain white is cheaper? You can invest in a higher quality this way. Yet you've ruined him with gifts that he had no choice but to use. Now he needs to buy the pens with little hedgehogs on them because studying doesn't feel the same with a plain ballpoint.

Slang Dictionary (Developed): With each passing day, all the students in Heartslabyul get more creative at bending the rules. That includes you. Riddle takes it upon himself to carry a 'little-black-book' full of all the sang words he is unfamiliar with. He does want to be a bit more 'hip' to understand you more, but at the same time he wants to bust any student being a smart-mouth. It's an ongoing battle *sigh*.

"Apologies, could you repeat that term for me? Surely it must be relevant to my lecture if you and Ace are whispering. 'Let him cook'? Do you think we are in a culinary lecture?! Have you not been listening to - ah. So it's in reference to letting me finish before interrupting...One moment. I need to make a note."

Chewing Gum (Developed): This is an ode to psychology. In short, eating is tied to a person's fight-or-flight. Instincts dictate that our bodies need to be in a calm state to eat comfortably. One day when Riddle was at his wits end, you tossed him a pack of sugarless gum and told him to chew. Disregarding Trey's unholy dental screeching, Riddle develops a gum dependence for when he's stressed out. On the bright side, his jaw has never been so sharp.

“Mimicry? You must be mistaken. Even if my influence has affected their person, surely there are only positive developments” == Riddle denies any changes if confronted. In truth, he’s well aware of how much you’ve helped him grow. It’s the opposite accusation that spikes concern. Riddle does not want others thinking you’re a mini-version of him. Rumors are not kind and neither is his current reputation. Making those amends is his burden to bare. He is flattered to see you paying attention to his mannerisms, and secretly proud that your bond is strong enough to affect the psyche.

Habits you steal:

Whistling (Inherited): Trey whistles while working in the kitchen or doing general chores around the dorm. He's not very loud with it, so not may students are bothered. Since you laze about in his shadow the tunes he goes through do become repetitive. Now you do the same when cleaning up Ramshackle. Grim wants to knock you both out because he can't take it anymore.

"Ah -- How'd you know it was me in here? Just because I bake for the un-birthday parties doesn't mean I live in the kitchen, you know. My whistling? Huh. Never thought that would be my calling card but there are worse things, haha"

Head-Scratching (Inherited): Trey's got a habit of scratching the back of his head when he's uncomfortable or nervous. That, or rubbing at the nape of his neck while adverting eye contact. You start doing this too whenever you're being scolded or put in a tough situation.

Dental Hygiene (Inherited): By far the most obvious shared trait. Trey enforces his dental habits onto everyone- you are no exception. You now own four different kinds of floss, two toothbrushes (one being electric), and have a strict hygiene routine. Your pearly whites have never been so clean. Eventually you become somewhat of a secondary enforcer, policing anyone who sleeps over your dorm to take care of themselves before bed. All of Heartslabyul learns that there is no going back when you scold Riddle for not brushing after his teatime tart, and live to tell the tale.

"Hey - uh, weird question? Were you handing out floss to the Spelldrive Team yesterday? Seriously? I though Grim was pulling my leg - oh, no! It's not weird at all! Those guys should have a better routine for all the meat they eat when bulking. I'm just shocked you got through to them." <- Very proud. Mildly cocky. He's been itching to get those negligent jocks to floss after their banquets his entire tenure, but steered away from that conflict like the plague. Thank you for making his dreams come true. Now if you could maybe get them to stop picking their gums with toothpicks?

Habits he steals:

Overbuying Food (Developed): Being a baker's son, Trey's good with finances and money. He's also meticulous with the ingredients he purchases for his bakes. You are not. You go to Sam's shop, buy whatever is on sale, and then bring it back home to improvise. This ends poorly more often than not, and behold! Trey has two Ramshackle sluggers snooping around his kitchen for eats. This is unpredictable and therefore he now never knows what amount to buy. You've ruined him.

Phone Calls (Developed): Texting is easier. Especially since phone calls can be a commitment that Trey dislikes being wrapped up in. Whenever Cater's name pops up as the caller, Trey knows he's getting an ear full. The thing is that you never. answer. your. phone. Either the text gets lumped in with the hundreds of missed messages you have, or Grim stole your cell to play mobile games. So Trey gives up and only ever calls. Either Grim will answer or you'll pick up thinking it's the snooze of your alarm.

"Hello? Prefect, where are you? It's me, Trey. Just calling to see if you're still coming to the Un-Birthday party? Riddle's getting a bit nervous since the schedule's set for the next hour. Grim's already here with Ace and Deuce - uh, want Cater to send a double to pick you up? I have a sinking feeling that you're asleep...Call me? Please?" <- He was correct. You called back not a moment after, half-asleep and hauling ass not to be late.

Speaking in Propositions (Inherited): Trey's normally good at keeping neutrality in a conversation, but getting a clear answer out of Yuu you is like solving a rubix cube. Either it's easy and instant, or a long game. Eventually your habit of indecisiveness rubs off on him and he asks questions more than answers them. Evidently this gets his younger classmen to stop asking for favors unless they really need to.

“Aha - really? I didn’t notice at all. Okay. Okay, I picked up on a few hints. What’s so wrong with them taking after me? It’s cute, right?” == Trey is the observant sort that picks up on his influence quickly. Not just anyone carries floss in their pocket at all times - and the looks from his dorm-mates when you offer some up is enough for the realization to click. Trey’s used to playing the respectable sort, and finds it endearing that you’re taking his good notes to heart. In truth, most of Trey’s mimicry is intentional. He’s a flexible guy who doesn’t mind altering his habits to fit your needs. Easier this way, y’know?

Habits you steal:

Speaking in Acronyms(Inherited): Now this is scary. The first time it happened, you had to take a pause and just re-evaluate your entire life. You don't use them nearly as often as Cater does, but somewhere along the line your brain must have rewired to speak in internet lingo. O-M-G you're TOTALLY twinning with him right now, period :)

Nicknames (Inherited): Again, frightening. You once swore against ever calling him Cay-Cay. It isn't very slay-slay. Yet you can only hear him use nicknames for so long until you're unconsciously calling people by them too. Especially since he's always dishing gossip. It starts in your head, which is fine. It's not like they know. Then you call Lilia 'Lils' and that old fart is just grinning behind his sleeve because ohoho~ young love <3

"Did you just- AHA! OMG DO IT AGAIN?! Wait, gotta get my camera out for this - wha? Oh, that's totes not fair! C'mon. Call me Cay-Cay. Just once! I won't even post it to Magicam, please? Lils won't believe me without proof! Pleasssssseeeee - " <- He actually doesn't want you to call him Cay-Cay all the time. Cater likes you using his given name, since it's more personal. Although the way it obviously slipped out on accident is just too cute to ignore.

Reality TV (Inherited): At first you don't like the gossip. It's cheesy, a bit annoying, and the shaky camera-work for nearly every show is headache inducing. Cater likes his dose of drama in his free-time, and Ramshackle has a tv that no one is using. It starts with him watching while you do other things around the dorm. Yet each time you pass the living area, you take longer to leave. Lingering around like one of the ghosts. Then he pulls you in with snacks and starts giving the low-down of what's going on, pulling out a bottle of tangerine shimmer polish to paint your nails. It's just one episode, watch it for him? Please? Oh no. No. No. Suddenly you're invested in who's the baby-daddy of little Ricky and what Chantel is going to do because her sister just lost the house to foreclosure.

"#KingdomOfDeadbeats - am I right? Ugh. I'm so glad we met if that's the dating scene back home...What?! I know it isn't real! Don't be a dummy, I was just joking! Ah! Stop! Don't hit me!" <- Half-hearted jokes about going on one of those talk-shows one day. You're an alien, after all - imagine the juicy drama and views his account would get from doing an interview? It's all jokes though. Cater likes spilling the tea, but hates being it. Don't ever abandon him and go out for milk though, kay? He doesn't want to pay Grim's child support. Otherwise he might have no choice smh

Habits he steals:

Phone/Web Games (Inherited): Cater's phone is mainly full of social media. He's not too into the gaming scene, it's not his peeps y'know? Alas, you download a few dress-up games and one MMO on his phone. First off - props on getting his phone. That's Cay-Cay's lifeline and not just anyone gets to play with it. Pray tell - what is this Wonderstar Planet (props if you know what is being ref.) and how can he become the most influential digital streamer on it? Congrats. He's addicted.

"Who's this Muscle Red and why's he bombing our raid - AH! He just tea-bagged me! So not cool...Prefect? STOP LAUGHING WE HAVE BETS ON THIS MATCH! There goes my collab opportunity, big fail" <- Muscle Red continues to make an appearance. Eventually he becomes Cater's official rival on stream, and Lils is all to invested in the tea cater drops during club meets. Side note. You're the one who gave 'muscle red' Cater's domain code. The lore thickens.

Internet Caution (Developed): This goes without saying, but Cater's well-known in the Magicam scene. He's very forward and knows his way around using charisma. Since you're not in the scene as much, he becomes more cautious of where and when he does streams. The change is so subtle that only the most observant people will pick up on it - but Cay-Cay doesn't want any creepos popping in if y'know what I'm saying. His sisters were the ones to instigate this change.

“Awe~ SRSLY?! That’s fresh news to my ears but good, right? Ne, are there any clips or pics? I need my evidence, y’see. Especially if my cutie is off taking notes from their one and only. C’mon, spill the tea!” == Cheeky Cater is well aware of what’s happening. He’d humor anyone out for some light teasing - after all, he isn’t by your side at all hours. His walls are probably the second most difficult in all of campus to bypass, so he’s both sweetened and nerved to see you picking up on his mannerisms. That’s proof of a strong attachment, after all.

Habits you steal:

Knuckle Cracking (Inherited): Deuce still does this from his biker days. It could be because joint pain from past fights, or possibly air retention in his knuckles from studying. Regardless, Deuce cracks his knuckles at least once every few hours and you began to mimic him. Some people groan at the popping sounds but it really does feel good to release the tension. Let's just hope neither of you dislocate any fingers on accident.

"Stop that! G-geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Thought you broke a finger...your hands are stiff? That just means you're studying a lot! I think...uh, let's break? I think there's some leftovers in the kitchen." <- Deuce 100% gets needing to pop those air bubbles. His hands get stiff from studying all the time, but don't crack them too much or you might dislocate something. Side note - he shows you how to wrap your fingers with a soothing salve. He used to do it after fights, but now it's a great help after class.

Double Notes (Developed): Deuce tries. He really does. Yet the lad just isn't great when it comes to book smarts. Seeing that he is dedicated to turning over a new leaf, you make a habit of copying all your notes. He isn't allowed to share them with Ace or Grim - else all bets are off. Sometimes you leave little 'good job' stickers on the last page for him. Is he a toddler? No. Does he peel the stickers off and save them? Totally. He is a good noodle. Suck it Ace.

Sewing (Developed): He breaks things. Most of the time it's an accident. You've learned to carry a mini-sewing kit for all the rips in Deuce's uniform. Same for mini remedies for stains and other problems. It's not like he's trying to get grass stains all over his under-shirt or to split the seam in his gloves (nearly every week). It just happens, and every time he comes to you with a kicked-puppy look with a promise of it being the last time. It is never the last time.

"Uhm...hun'? It happened again. I'm so sorry for bothering you but Housewarden is going to kill me if he sees the tear in my blazer! Can you fix it?! I can't handle another collar with my exam tomorrow! I need to breathe to focus! - really!? I owe you one! Snacks are on me tonight."

Habits he steals:

Bottomless Stomach (Developed): Have leftovers from dinner? Bring them over. He'll get the tubba-ware back in 1-2 days. Coupon for buy-one-get-one at Sam's? He'll take the extra and polish it off in less than a minute. Deuce becomes a human garbage disposal and is taking the unwanted condiments off your sandwich to eat. Just pick them off and leave 'em on the corner of his lunch plate. Even if he dislikes it, he'll down it so you don't have to.

"Mm. Oh, thanks hun' - its that all you're eatin'? You don't like the steam bun? It is a bit dry, but wasting food is disrespectful to the cooks! I'll finish it for you so have my fruit instead. You still need to eat" <- 10/10 very thoughtful and not picky at all. He is grateful to eat your cooking and will gobble up all leftovers at Ramshackle, but doesn't think twice to sharing meals in the cafeteria. He will notice though if you do not eat enough. Restocks the snack cabinet if he sees it's empty. Is touched if you routinely share things you know he enjoys, like saving half your frittata on purpose.

Early Riser (Inherited): See - even if you hate the mornings, there is no choice at Night Raven College. As Ramshackle Prefect you need to be up to take care of business before class. Deuce becomes your personal alarm clock because he wants some time with you before everyone else joins in. Mind you that he lives with three other dudes who threaten to end him every morning because his alarm wakes them up too. Eventually he can wake up without it, but the time leading is unpleasant.

"W-what? Seriously? I've been trying to be more like them! They're a good person and responsible so I've been trying to follow their example. To think we've been doing the same thing this entire time...." == Why would you ever imitate him? He's been trying his damn best to become an honor student worth respecting, and has a long way to go. To think you're comfortable enough with him to mimic his mannerisms? It's a pipe dream, one he doesn't grasp until it's put right in front of his face. You don't let anyone else pick off your plate other than Grim. The next time his clothes tear, he's already handing off his tie before realizing just what's happening. When you wrap his knuckles after a six-hour lock in at the library? He can't help but feel proud at how neat the bandages are. Suddenly the dark memories of hiding bruised knuckles from his mom are pacified with healing balm. Deuce views this development as a gift, and is grateful. Very, very grateful.

Habits you steal:

‘I owe you’ cards (Inherited): Ace's favorite social invention - the 'solid'. Nothing spells new-low like getting your friends to do stuff in exchange for a favor in the future. Most of the time Ace counts on people forgetting he owes them one, but you're not so gullible. The only difference between you both is that while Ace never fulfills his solid, you have a conscience. Give it a few more years. He'll get ya.

"I know this is the third ticket this week but - Oh! C'mon, cut a guy some slack, would you? I'm sorry for bein' late to our date. Yeah, it was shitty. I'm not trying to fight it, aright? I'm here now so let's have some fun and you can chalk three strikes on my tab. I'll even buy ya some candy - Ah! Okay! Two candies but that's where my charity ends!" <- Evidently, the 'I-owe-you' tabs cancel each other out from how often you both call in favors. It's just an excuse to do acts of service or express apologies without being too mushy. Ace is definitely keeping a track record of them though. Expect an ongoing log that dates back to the week you met, when he showed up homeless, collared, and looking to couch surf.

Profanity (Inherited): Ace swears like a sailor. Maybe not so much in his dorm because *cough* he's being policed. He holds no such reservations when you're both alone at Ramshackle. Unfortunately his potty mouth has a mind of it's own - it taints you, and you are a sham of a prefect. Ace earned a week-long collar for teaching you some Twisted-Wonderland exclusive curses. Riddle is not pleased.

Leaving the Windows Unlocked (Developed): There are only so many times he can sneak in through your window before the adrenaline-induced charm wears off. You have class in the morning, and can't be bothered to deal with him on nights he can't pass out in his dorm. Thank seven you have all of Ramshackle to yourself - because Heartslabyul sounds like a nightmare with the roommate situation. You can't leave the front door open for obvious reasons, but most nights the guest-bedroom window will be left slightly ajar in case he needs a place to crash.

"Pssst! Oi! Prefect! ...ugh, Grim! Wake them up, man! The latch is stuck. Don't go back to bed you furball! HEY! IT'S FREAKIN COLD OUT HERE SO LET ME IN ALREADY" <- Please let him in. If Ace has to spend one more night in that stinky dorm with three dudes, he'll string one of their dirty gym socks over your bed. No mercy.

Sleeping with Earplugs (Developed): Bitch Ace snores.

Habits he steals:

Notes Memo (Developed): Ace is bad with remembering things. Anniversaries? Dates? Allergies? He admits to not putting in a great amount of effort, but you can't say he doesn't try at all. He has a notes block on his phone dedicated to things like your go-to takeout orders and preferences. He even has a few alarms set days before any important events because even if you say no-gifts or plans...yeah, he's not that stupid.

Excessive Yawning (Inherited): You're always tired - it wasn't Ace's problem before but now he does feel a bit guilty. Dragging you into his messes felt different when you were just the prefect, y'know? Regardless, it's human instinct to mimic each other's demeanor so he'll openly yawn all the time - normally in succession of you.

"Hey...you're dozing off again. Am I seriously that boring to hang around? - Nah. Just messin' with you. I'd suggest taking a nap during next period but I doubt a goody-goody like you is gonna take that advice. Let's just ditch juice at lunch and go back to the dorm. Don't get mad if I forget to wake you up though"

Medications (Developed): Ace is the last person to become a human apothecary, but he's always got a pack of pain-reliever meds in his pocket with a few bandages, etc. He also attached one of those tiny capsule bottles to his keyring with some stomach meds inside. You took a spill running laps? Dang man. That sucks. Here's a band-aid for your knee. Curse you for making him the slightly-more responsible one.

Every week brought new revisions to the guest list. New accommodation requests. New diplomatic considerations. New security concerns. Apparently, gathering several hundred influential people into a single building required endless preparation.

Who could have guessed?

The sharp crack of practice weapons colliding pulled [Y/n] from his thoughts. The training grounds stretched out before him, filled with soldiers moving through drills under the watchful eyes of their officers. Firebenders practised coordinated manoeuvres on one side of the field while recruits ran endurance exercises on the other. Orders echoed across the yard.

It was familiar. Predictable. Comfortingly straightforward. Compared to palace politics, military administration felt refreshingly honest. A problem appeared. You identified it. You dealt with it. Nobody spent an hour debating where someone should sit during dinner.

Beside him, General Mak studied a series of deployment proposals spread across a nearby table while Admiral Jee let his eyes dart over another report. The veteran officers' expressions remained as calm and thoughtful as ever. Nothing about either of them seemed rushed. Nothing seemed forced. Even when dealing with difficult problems, Mak approached them with the same steady patience he applied to everything else while Jee always managed to take a step back and look at things without getting hung up on the smaller issues. After several moments, they set their reports aside.

"The security estimates have increased." Mak commented, putting a hand on his chin thoughtfully. [Y/n] sighed immediately. Of course they had. Mak glanced toward him, not judgmentally, not with amusement, simply as an observation.

Admiral Jee seemed to notice the increasingly defeated look on [Y/n]'s face as the strategist flipped through yet another collection of banquet-related reports. The older officer was quiet for a moment before speaking. 

"For what it's worth, there are benefits to the event." He declared, and [Y/n] looked up slowly. The expression alone suggested he had serious doubts about that claim. Jee remained characteristically calm. "The governors will be present. Representatives from allied nations will be present. Military officials who rarely have an opportunity to meet directly will all be in the same place." He glanced toward the training grounds where soldiers continued moving through drills. "The Fire Nation spent a century isolated by war. Gatherings like this help strengthen relationships that didn't exist a few years ago." The logic was sound. Annoyingly sound. [Y/n] disliked it anyway.

"You make it sound reasonable." 

"Because it is reasonable." 

"I don't like that answer."  

"I suspected you might not." Mak inclined his head slightly. His attention returned to the deployment plans spread across the table. "Many of the changes the Fire Lord has implemented only work because people continue speaking to one another." His voice remained thoughtful. "Trade agreements, reconstruction projects, military cooperation, diplomatic relationships." He paused briefly. "Events like this help maintain those connections." [Y/n] stared at the papers in front of him. Part of him knew Mak was right. The banquet wasn't just nobles showing off expensive clothing and attempting to gain influence by throwing their daughters at Zuko. Important discussions would happen there. Relationships would be formed. Agreements would be negotiated. Problems might even be solved. None of that changed the fact that he still hated the entire thing. The strategist sighed heavily enough that Mak glanced toward him again. "You remain unconvinced." 

"General..." [Y/n] replied tiredly. "I understand the political value. That doesn't mean I have to enjoy helping organise it." To his credit, Mak actually nodded. 

"A fair distinction."

The conversation gradually shifted toward the less pleasant side of the banquet. Jee lowered his voice slightly as he reviewed another deployment proposal. 

"The gathering itself remains valuable, but it does create... opportunities." He noted, and [Y/n] immediately understood what he meant. The strategist glanced toward the soldiers training nearby before returning his attention to the reports. None contained any information on the group they were discussing since they couldn't review that out in the open, but the words 'The Burning Eye' may as well have been plastered in invisible ink only [Y/n] could see on every single page.

"Especially for people who prefer large audiences." The strategist replied, and both the general and the admiral nodded once. Neither of them used names. They didn't need to. Too many ears surrounded them. The training grounds might appear noisy, but soldiers had a remarkable talent for overhearing things they weren't supposed to. 

"The more important the guests..." Mak observed. "The more attractive the occasion becomes."

"That's the problem." [Y/n] sighed. The event wasn't merely a banquet anymore. It was a room full of governors, diplomats, military officials, and influential nobles. The sort of gathering that naturally attracted attention from people who wanted to send a message. Mak folded one of the reports and set it aside. 

"Fortunately, opportunities work both ways." That earned a raised eyebrow. The general's expression remained thoughtful. "Anyone interested in causing trouble will expect us to focus on obvious vulnerabilities." 

"Meaning we shouldn't limit ourselves to obvious vulnerabilities." Jee continued. [Y/n] considered that for a moment while Mak nodded, pleased that [Y/n] got his inference. 

"Precisely." He replied, and the strategist nodded slowly. It was one of the reasons he appreciated working with Mak and Jee. The older men rarely spoke dramatically, but when they did comment on a problem, their observations were usually worth listening to. 

"We'll increase the number of eyes watching the room." 

"Reasonable." 

"Review every servant assigned to the event." 

"Reasonable." 

"And quietly prepare for possibilities we hope never happen." 

"The best preparations usually go unnoticed." Mak inclined his head slightly. That was true of military planning. It was true of security. And, if everything went according to plan, nobody attending the banquet would ever realise just how much work had gone into ensuring they enjoyed a peaceful evening. Unfortunately, [Y/n] suspected the people they were worried about would make every effort to prevent that.

For the first time that day, [Y/n] found himself smiling. Just a little. Not because the problems had gotten smaller. Not because the banquet was becoming any less irritating. But because conversations like this reminded him why he trusted Mak and Jee. Neither man was prone to panic. They didn't dramatise. Didn't waste energy complaining.

They simply looked at the situation as it existed and worked through it one step at a time. Which was probably the only reason either of them had survived the last month.

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. All three men looked up as Kenta crossed the training grounds toward them. The young soldier looked like he'd just stepped away from a sparring session, a thin sheen of sweat visible across his forehead as he wiped it away with one sleeve. Behind him, training continued uninterrupted. Firebenders practised forms, officers shouted corrections, and recruits hurried between drills.

Somewhere nearby, a familiar voice called out.

"Kenta." Unlike the shouting that usually accompanied complaints on a training ground, Hori sounded mostly tired. The other soldier was standing beside one of the sparring circles with a practice sword resting across his shoulder. "You can't just walk away in the middle of a match."

"It was a break." Kenta glanced back.

"It was a thirty-second pause."

"It was still a break."

Hori pinched the bridge of his nose. The expression suggested this was far from the first version of this conversation.

"I turned around."

"Mm."

"You were gone."

"Mm."

"And now I'm standing here explaining to recruits why my sparring partner vanished."

"I'm sure you managed." Kenta looked entirely unbothered. Hori sighed. A long, deeply exasperated sigh. Unfortunately, that was probably confirmation enough. By the time Kenta reached the table, he looked thoroughly accustomed to this sort of thing.

"General. Admiral." He greeted, and both Mak and Jee inclined their heads politely in return.

"Good afternoon."

"Soldier."

"Chief Strategist." Kenta then turned toward [Y/n].

"You're looking well." [Y/n] replied, and Kenta smiled. The young soldier's gaze drifted toward the reports spread across the table. Security estimates. Deployment schedules. Personnel allocations. Then back toward the two men.

"What are you doing out here?"

"We're reviewing security arrangements." Mak answered calmly. The general looked back toward the training grounds. "It is easier to evaluate what resources are available when you can observe them directly." Kenta nodded. That made sense. Mak continued. "The reports provide useful information." A squad of soldiers completed a coordinated manoeuvre nearby. The general watched them for a moment. "The soldiers provide additional context."

The explanation was delivered in the same measured tone Mak seemed to use for everything; thoughtful, reasonable, practical.

"Fair enough." Kenta considered it for a moment before nodding again. Jee folded one of the reports neatly. Then glanced toward [Y/n]. A faint smile touched his expression. Subtle enough that most people probably wouldn't notice it.

"And our Chief Strategist appeared in need of a change of scenery."

"I did not." [Y/n] looked up immediately. Both older men remained completely calm.

"The banquet documents suggest otherwise." Jee continued, glancing toward the reports that [Y/n] was gripping with enough force to tear through the paper if he shifted even slightly. Kenta looked between them. Then toward the stack of paperwork. Then back toward [Y/n].

"...That bad?"

"Yes." [Y/n] replied flatly. Jee couldn't help but chuckle. Mak nodded once. Kenta laughed. [Y/n] looked mildly betrayed. 

"Kenta." From across the training grounds, Hori's voice drifted over again. The soldier in question immediately sighed. "Kenta, are you coming back?" There was a pause before another exasperated sigh. "Or should I start training with the dummy?" Kenta glanced over his shoulder. Hori was standing beside a wooden training dummy now, looking at it with visible disappointment. The dummy, unsurprisingly, offered no response.

"I'll be there in a minute."

"You said that five minutes ago."

"It hasn't been five minutes."

"It feels like five minutes."

Kenta closed his eyes briefly. [Y/n] watched the exchange for a moment. It was terrifyingly similar to how he and Zuko complained at each other when they trained. He gestured vaguely toward Hori.

"How long have you two known each other?"

"Years."

"That explains a lot."

"It really does." The response came from Hori this time. His tone carried the weary acceptance of a man who had simply stopped fighting fate. For the first time all afternoon, General Mak chuckled quietly. A brief sound. Gone almost immediately. But genuine nonetheless.

Eventually, Hori gave up on waiting for Kenta to return and wandered over himself. The soldier approached the table with the resigned expression of someone who had already accepted that his training session was never getting back on schedule. His eyes drifted over the reports scattered across the tabletop. Then toward [Y/n]. Then back toward the reports. For a moment, he looked almost concerned.

"Chief Strategist." He started. [Y/n] looked up. Hori paused. "You look exhausted." The observation was delivered politely. Respectfully. And with just enough honesty to make it impossible to ignore. [Y/n] stared at him for a moment. Then sighed. The sort of sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep within his soul.

"I am exhausted." He admitted, letting his shoulders sag a little. Hori nodded. That tracked. The strategist gestured vaguely toward the paperwork. "I'm currently being forced to help plan a banquet that I want absolutely nothing to do with."

Kenta immediately looked sympathetic. General Mak remained thoughtfully silent. And Admiral Jee seemed like he was debating offering advice or staying out of it. A dangerous sign. Because it meant he probably agreed. Hori frowned slightly. The strategist stared at him for several long seconds. The look alone communicated years of accumulated suffering.

Before either soldier could ask a follow-up question, a familiar voice suddenly echoed across the training grounds.

"Chief Strategist!" The effect on [Y/n] was immediate. He froze. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head toward the entrance to the barracks. The Grand Chamberlain stood there, scanning the training grounds with the determination of a man hunting a dangerous criminal. Unfortunately, the moment his eyes landed on the strategist, his face brightened. Something inside [Y/n] immediately died. Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just a quiet, defeated death somewhere deep in his soul. His shoulders slumped. The life visibly drained from his face. Beside him, Kenta followed his gaze and immediately understood. 

"Oh no." Hori looked toward the approaching Chamberlain, then toward [Y/n]'s expression, and winced sympathetically. 

"That's unfortunate." Kenta added. The Grand Chamberlain immediately began marching toward the table. The moment he did, Kenta straightened. "Well." He pointed vaguely back toward the training circles. "I should probably get back to work." 

"Good idea." Hori agreed immediately. "Can't neglect training." Neither man waited for a response. They simply turned and walked away with suspicious speed. Within seconds, they had disappeared back into the crowd of soldiers as though they had never been there at all. Cowards. Absolute cowards. 

Mak and Jee watched them retreat without comment while [Y/n] continued staring at the approaching Chamberlain with the expression of a man watching his own execution approach. The older official crossed the training grounds with a stack of documents tucked beneath one arm, and judging by the amount of paper involved, [Y/n] already knew exactly what those documents were. Banquet reports. Somehow, despite standing in the middle of a military barracks surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, there was nowhere to run.

The Grand Chamberlain finally reached the table, looking far too pleased with himself for [Y/n]'s liking. 

"Grand Chamberlain." Mak and Jee offered polite nods in tandem.

"General. Admiral." The older official returned the greeting. Beside him, [Y/n] managed something that vaguely resembled a respectful greeting, though it lacked any actual enthusiasm. The Chamberlain either didn't notice or chose to ignore it. "I am glad the soldier was correct." That immediately got the strategist's attention. 

"Soldier?" He repeated, and the older man nodded. 

"One of the guards informed me that he saw you heading toward the barracks earlier this afternoon." He explained. [Y/n] stared at him. Somewhere in the distance, a recruit suddenly sneezed. The strategist immediately decided that every soldier in the palace was now a suspect. He would find out who it was. Eventually. The investigation would be thorough. Possibly vindictive. Almost certainly petty.

"What do you need?" [Y/n] asked before his imagination could become any more concerning. The Chamberlain adjusted the documents tucked beneath one arm. 

"Come with me."  

"That's not an answer." The strategist immediately frowned.

"It will be." The older man turned toward the exit. "On the way back." [Y/n] looked toward Mak and Jee as though searching for rescue. Unsurprisingly, none was forthcoming. The general simply folded the security reports together neatly and inclined his head. 

"We can continue our review later." Mak offered while Jee nodded, a small smile threatening to pull itself to his face. The strategist sighed heavily enough that several nearby soldiers glanced over. 

"Wonderful." He gathered his own documents from the table and tucked them beneath one arm before pushing himself to his feet. Then he looked toward Mak one final time. "If I don't return, tell Zuko I died doing what I hated." Mak was silent for a moment. 

"Banquet planning?" 

"Banquet planning." 

"A tragic end." Jee nodded thoughtfully. For the first time all afternoon, the Chamberlain actually looked slightly offended. [Y/n] felt vindicated. Then, with all the enthusiasm of a man marching toward his own execution, he turned and followed the Grand Chamberlain out of the training grounds.

Behind him, the sounds of training continued uninterrupted. Soldiers sparred. Officers shouted orders. Recruits practised drills. All of them blissfully free from banquet planning.

The lucky bastards.

The moment they left the training grounds behind, [Y/n] decided to get the inevitable over with as quickly as possible. The Grand Chamberlain walked beside him at his usual measured pace while the strategist carried his reports under one arm. 

"Is there a report that needs approval?" He asked. It seemed like the most likely explanation. Most of the Chamberlain's interruptions over the last month had ultimately led back to paperwork. Unfortunately, the older man shook his head. 

"No." That immediately earned a frown. 

"No?" The strategist looked at him suspiciously. If it wasn't a report, then what exactly had justified hunting him through the palace? "Then what is it?" For the first time since finding him at the barracks, the Grand Chamberlain looked oddly uncomfortable. The change was subtle, but noticeable. The older man cleared his throat and adjusted the stack of documents beneath his arm. [Y/n] slowed slightly. Now he was concerned. The Chamberlain was many things. Persistent. Organized. Occasionally infuriating. Awkward was not usually one of them. 

"Chief Strategist..." The older man began carefully. "You and Fire Lord Zuko are... very close." [Y/n] blinked. Of all the directions this conversation could have taken, that wasn't even in the top hundred. For a moment, he simply stared. He'd been expecting banquet reports. Security concerns. Guest lists. Another argument about heirs. Not this. Eventually, he managed to force out a response. 

"Yes?" The word came out more confused than intended. The Chamberlain waited. Apparently expecting more. When none came, [Y/n] gestured vaguely. "We are." He paused. "You already knew that." The strategist was still trying to figure out where this conversation was going. Everyone in the palace knew he and Zuko were close. They had known each other since childhood. The information wasn't exactly classified. The older man had personally witnessed half of their arguments and jokes alike over the months since he'd been back. "You are aware of our history." [Y/n] continued slowly. "You know we grew up together." The Chamberlain nodded. 

"I do." That somehow made the conversation even stranger. Because if the older man already knew all of that, then bringing it up now could only mean one thing. Unfortunately, [Y/n] had absolutely no idea what that thing was. And judging by the increasingly awkward look on the Chamberlain's face, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to find out.

"Then why are we discussing it?" The question seemed reasonable enough. Unfortunately, the Chamberlain's expression immediately became more awkward. He cleared his throat and looked away briefly. That alone was enough to set off alarm bells. The strategist had spent years dealing with politicians, ministers, and military officers. He knew what people looked like when they were about to ask for something. 

"Because..." The older man hesitated. "Perhaps the Fire Lord will listen to you on this matter." There it was. Immediately, every instinct [Y/n] possessed began screaming at him. He didn't know exactly where this conversation was going yet, but he had a horrible feeling he was about to find out. 

"What matter?" He asked anyway. The Chamberlain's hesitation somehow became worse. That was never a good sign. The older man adjusted the documents beneath his arm. 

"In preparation for the banquet, several noble families have submitted information regarding their daughters." He explained. [Y/n] immediately knew where this was going. Of course he did. The Chamberlain continued anyway. "Some governors have submitted information regarding nieces. And in one case, a cousin." The strategist closed his eyes briefly. Agni help him. The banquet again. It always came back to the banquet. 

"Continue..." He said flatly. The Chamberlain took that as encouragement. Unfortunately. 

"The intention was to allow the Fire Lord to familiarise himself with the attendees before the event." That sounded suspiciously polite considering what they were actually discussing. [Y/n] already knew exactly what those files were. They weren't information packets. They were recommendations. Carefully prepared introductions from ambitious families hoping to secure influence through marriage. His suspicions were fully confirmed when the Chamberlain sighed. "The problem is that he refuses to engage with them." [Y/n] couldn't even pretend to be surprised. 

"Meaning?" 

"Meaning he won't read them." The older man's expression grew increasingly frustrated. "Several remain unopened. Some were returned. One was apparently used to level a table." The strategist stared at him. Then stared a little longer. Somewhere deep inside, despite everything, a laugh threatened to escape. 

"Can't say I'm surprised." He replied.  

"Chief Strategist, the Fire Lord has been given every opportunity to familiarise himself with these young women, and he refuses to even consider it." The Chamberlain looked genuinely pained. [Y/n] immediately understood exactly why Zuko had done it. Which was unfortunate, because judging by the hopeful look the Chamberlain was now directing at him, the older man clearly believed he'd just found the solution to his problem. And that realisation filled the strategist with absolute dread.

"So, you want me to convince Zuko to pick a wife?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Precisely. And, as a gesture of goodwill for your trouble, you can have your pick of any of the women he doesn't pick that catch your eye. I'm sure they'd still be interested in someone of your rank if His Majesty wasn't available." The Chamberlain replied, and [Y/n] legitimately felt ready to vomit at the thought. He didn't know if it was the offer itself or the fact that the old man had basically referred to the women as a matter of compensation, but the whole thing still made his skin crawl, no matter how normalised this kind of thing was amongst the nobility.

"I'd rather set myself on fire." Came [Y/n]'s response after approximately thirty seconds of disgusted silence. The Chamberlain sighed. The sound carried the exhaustion of a man who had been fighting the same battle for months and was steadily losing ground. 

"Chief Strategist, the Fire Lord is twenty years old." [Y/n] immediately resisted the urge to groan. 

"I am aware." 

"He has no wife." 

"Also aware." 

"And no heir." There it was. The strategist kept his expression perfectly neutral as they continued walking through the palace corridors. 

Unfortunately, something unpleasant twisted in his stomach anyway. He ignored it. The feeling had become increasingly familiar over the last month. Every time someone brought up Zuko's future wife. Every time someone discussed potential matches. Every time someone spoke as though marriage was just another item on a list of political responsibilities. The Chamberlain kept talking, painting a picture of stability, succession, and noble alliances. 

Meanwhile, [Y/n]'s imagination betrayed him by briefly supplying the image of Zuko standing beside some carefully selected noblewoman at the banquet. The thought made the knot in his stomach tighten. He immediately shoved it away.

"No." The interruption was immediate. 

"No?" The Chamberlain blinked.

"No." The strategist folded his arms. "I'm not helping."

"You haven't even heard my proposal." The older man frowned.

"I heard enough."

"Chief Strategist, all I'm asking is that you encourage him to review the files." The Chamberlain looked increasingly frustrated.

"No."

"To consider the candidates."

"No."

"To think seriously about his future."

"No."

The answer never changed. Each response came just as flat and immediate as the last. The older man stared at him. Apparently hoping repetition would somehow improve the situation. It did not. The Chamberlain released another sigh. He clearly wasn't ready to give up. 

"Chief Strategist, I understand your concerns, but this is larger than personal preference." His tone remained patient, though there was a growing desperation beneath it now. "The Fire Nation requires stability. An heir provides stability. Marriage strengthens political relationships. The Fire Lord's future affects the future of the entire nation." The older man gestured vaguely as they continued down the corridor. "I'm not asking you to force him into anything. Merely encourage him to consider his options." [Y/n] immediately felt that knot twist in his stomach again. The image from before resurfaced uninvited. A political marriage. A political wife. A political future chosen because it was convenient and useful rather than because it was what he wanted. The strategist shoved the thought away before it could linger. 

"No." He replied flatly.

"For the good of the nation-" The Chamberlain sighed heavily. 

"'For the good of the nation.'" [Y/n] repeated mockingly. "I've heard that argument." His voice remained calm, but there was a firmness beneath it that hadn't been there before. "And my answer is still no." The older man opened his mouth to continue, but [Y/n] cut him off. "I know Zuko." The words came immediately. "Better than most people in this palace. And I know exactly how miserable this entire situation makes him." The strategist folded his arms. "He's spent years being told what he should be, where he should go, what he should do, who he should become." His expression hardened slightly. "I'm not adding 'find a wife and produce an heir' to that list just because it would make the council happy." The Chamberlain looked frustrated. [Y/n] didn't care. 

"If Zuko wants to marry someone someday, I'll be the first person to support him." The knot in his stomach tightened painfully at the thought, but he ignored it. "But I'm not going to pressure my best friend into something I know will make him miserable for the rest of his life. Not for the nation. Not for the council. Not for anyone." [Y/n] stopped walking again. The Chamberlain almost walked past him before noticing. The strategist looked tired. Not angry. Not frustrated. Just exhausted in a way that seemed to settle deep into his bones. 

"Maybe..." He started slowly. "You, the ministers, and half the nation would do well to appreciate the fact that Zuko is already working himself into the ground." The older man blinked. [Y/n] continued before he could interrupt. "He spends every waking hour trying to clean up the mess his father left behind. He's rebuilding international relationships. Managing reconstruction projects. Reforming laws. Negotiating with governors. Handling disputes. Putting out political fires that started before he was even old enough to vote on them." The strategist spread one hand. "Most people would call that enough responsibility for one person." The Chamberlain opened his mouth, but [Y/n] was already shaking his head. 

"Instead, every conversation somehow circles back to finding him a wife." His voice remained calm, though the irritation beneath it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide. "An heir. A marriage. A successor. Another noble family." The strategist let out a long breath. "Have any of you considered giving him a moment to breathe?" The older man looked uncomfortable. Good. "Agni..." [Y/n] muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "The man is trying to drag an entire nation out of a century of war, and somehow people still look at him and think, 'yes, but when are you having a child with a woman you've never met?'" He folded his arms. "At some point, it starts sounding less like concern for the Fire Nation and more like you're all treating him like a breeding bull." The Chamberlain immediately looked horrified by the comparison. [Y/n] didn't care. "He's a person. Not a succession plan."

His words hung heavy between them for a moment, and he couldn't help but feel a little lighter now that he'd finally managed to blow off at least a little steam. Eventually, the Chamberlain let out a slow breath.

"You are remarkably stubborn."

"Well, the Fire Lord learned from the best." [Y/n] pointed to himself. That actually made the older man look offended. Which, admittedly, improved [Y/n]'s mood considerably.

A long silence followed. The Chamberlain looked increasingly frustrated while [Y/n] looked increasingly determined not to help. Eventually, the older man sighed and rubbed at his forehead. Clearly deciding that one approach had failed, he tried another. 

"What about Lady Mai?" The strategist blinked. Of all the directions the conversation could have gone, that wasn't the one he'd expected. The Chamberlain seemed encouraged by the reaction and continued. "The Fire Lord appeared content during that period of his life. Perhaps there is merit in revisiting the relationship." For a moment, [Y/n] simply stared at him. Then he laughed. Not a polite chuckle. Not a brief snort of amusement. An actual laugh. The kind that completely derailed a conversation. The Chamberlain stopped talking and looked mildly offended while [Y/n] shook his head.

"There is a better chance of the Fire Island volcanoes freezing over." The answer came immediately. The Chamberlain frowned. 

"Surely it is not that unlikely." 

"It absolutely is." [Y/n] rubbed a hand over his face. "Mai and Zuko already tried being together." 

"Relationships can be repaired." 

"They aren't broken." The strategist sighed. "That's the point." The older man looked confused, which somehow didn't surprise him. "They already fixed things years ago. Just not in the way you're thinking." The Chamberlain remained unconvinced, so [Y/n] pressed on. "They care about each other. They'll always care about each other. But they're happier as friends than they ever were as a couple." The Chamberlain was quiet for a moment. 

"You truly believe that?" 

"I know that." [Y/n] immediately nodded. He had watched them since they got back. Heard how they were as partners from both of them and watched them somehow become better friends afterwards than they had been before. "Neither of them is sitting around wishing they were back together." The strategist folded his arms. "Honestly, if I suggested it, Mai would probably throw something at me." The older man considered that before reluctantly nodding. Apparently, he found that possibility believable. Which was fair. [Y/n] certainly did. 

"And The Fire Lord?" The Chamberlain asked. The strategist snorted. 

"Zuko would think I'd completely lost my mind." The answer earned another disappointed sigh from the older man. At this point, [Y/n] was beginning to suspect that half of the Chamberlain's life consisted of sighing whenever the Fire Lord refused to cooperate with his plans. Unfortunately for him, neither Zuko nor Mai seemed interested in helping.

Mai seemed perfectly content with her life. Zuko seemed perfectly content with his. Trying to force them together now would be absurd. The Chamberlain looked personally wounded by this information.

The Chamberlain was quiet for several moments after that. His expression remained thoughtful as they continued down the corridor. Then, with all the casualness of someone commenting on the weather, he rubbed at his forehead and sighed. 

"This entire situation would be significantly easier if you were a woman." He remarked casually. [Y/n] completely froze in place. Because even if you had given him two hundred years to come up with what he'd expected the Chamberlain to say, that wouldn't have even been considered to make the list. Slowly, the Chamberlain turned around. The strategist was staring at him. Not angry. Not confused. Just completely frozen somewhere between bewilderment and absolute horror. For a long moment, neither spoke. Then [Y/n] pointed at him. 

"What?" The question came out flat. The Chamberlain blinked. Apparently, he hadn't expected that reaction. "What?" [Y/n] repeated. "What does that even mean?" The older man looked mildly surprised that further explanation was required. 

"You possess considerable political influence." He began counting points off on his fingers. "You are close to the Fire Lord." Another finger. "You come from a respected family, despite your request to discredit the House itself." Another finger. "You are one of the very few people he genuinely trusts and does not keep at arm's length." The Chamberlain folded his hands behind his back again. "From a political standpoint, those are all highly desirable qualities." [Y/n] continued staring. The expression on his face suggested he was desperately hoping there was another conclusion hidden somewhere in this conversation. Unfortunately, there wasn't.

"Had you been a woman, the matter would have solved itself when you returned to the palace." The Chamberlain simply continued speaking as though this were the most normal discussion in the world. [Y/n]'s jaw dropped. The older man either didn't notice or didn't care. "You are already close companions. The political implications would be favourable. The public would approve. The council would approve." He paused thoughtfully. "And any potential children would likely inherit a strong strategic mind, which would be beneficial for future leadership, not to mention your aptitude for lightning." 

Silence filled the corridor. Absolute silence. The Chamberlain looked perfectly calm. [Y/n] looked like he'd just been struck by lightning. For several long seconds, he couldn't even find words. The strategist simply stared at the older man, trying to determine whether he was joking, suffering from a stroke, or had completely lost his mind. Unfortunately, the Chamberlain appeared entirely serious. Which was somehow the most horrifying possibility of all.

[Y/n] genuinely forgot how to speak. His mind was a complete mess of thoughts and emotions tripping over each other. Horror. Embarrassment. Disbelief. Confusion. The overwhelming certainty that this conversation should not be happening. His face felt like it was on fire. Agni above, if anyone overheard this discussion, he would never recover. The worst part was that the Chamberlain remained completely calm throughout the entire thing. There wasn't a hint of embarrassment on the older man's face. No indication that he recognised how utterly insane this conversation was. Eventually, [Y/n] managed to force words past the catastrophe occurring inside his head. 

"There is seriously something wrong with you." The statement came out flatter than he'd intended. Mostly because his brain was still trying to recover from being told that the nation's succession problems could theoretically have been solved by changing his gender.

"What?" The Chamberlain simply raised an eyebrow. The strategist stared at him in disbelief. 

"What do you mean, 'what'?" The older man looked genuinely confused. Genuinely confused. As though he couldn't understand why anyone might object to being discussed like a particularly promising breeding program. "You just spent five minutes explaining why I would be politically useful as breeding stock." The Chamberlain frowned immediately. 

"That is a dramatic interpretation." 

"It is the correct interpretation." 

"I disagree." The older man replied, while the strategist just rubbed both hands over his face, muttering to himself. 

"You know, for a man who doesn't seem to like me very much, you've given this weird-ass idea a concerning amount of thought." That finally seemed to catch the older man off guard. Only for a moment. Then he straightened again. 

"Personal feelings have nothing to do with practical considerations." Somehow, that answer made everything worse. The Chamberlain folded his hands behind his back and continued as though he were discussing military logistics. "The evaluation was perfectly reasonable." [Y/n] felt part of his soul attempting to leave his body. The older man pressed onward, completely oblivious to the damage he was causing. "You possess considerable influence, the Fire Lord trusts you, and your strategic capabilities are well documented." He paused thoughtfully. "It is unfortunate that you cannot bear children." The strategist made a strangled noise somewhere between a groan and a choke. That statement somehow managed to be even worse than the original conversation. Maybe because the Chamberlain sounded genuinely disappointed by the fact. Or maybe because he wasn't joking. There wasn't the slightest hint of humour in his voice. He meant every word. 

"Agni, help me..." [Y/n] muttered, burying his face in his hands again. The Chamberlain merely tilted his head. 

"I still believe you're overreacting." That only made the strategist groan louder. The Chamberlain, unfortunately, was not finished. "Politically speaking, it would have resolved several issues simultaneously." [Y/n] immediately regretted allowing the conversation to continue. The older man seemed completely unaware of the danger signs. "A trusted spouse. A clear successor. Continued political stability." He counted each point off calmly. The strategist stared straight ahead and focused very hard on continuing to walk. 

Unfortunately, his imagination chose that exact moment to betray him. For one horrifying second, his mind supplied the image of himself standing beside Zuko in ceremonial robes while half the nation watched. Then it got worse. Considerably worse. He immediately shoved the thought into the deepest corner of his mind and slammed the door on it. Agni above. He wanted to die. The Chamberlain, unfortunately, continued speaking.  

"And the resulting child would likely possess advantages from both parents-" 

"Please stop talking." [Y/n] made a strangled sound. The older man either didn't hear him or chose not to. 

"A strong strategic education combined with the Fire Lord's leadership abilities would have been-" 

"Please stop talking." This time, the interruption came immediately. The strategist rubbed a hand over his face. His ears felt hot. His face felt hot. Everything felt hot. Which was deeply unfair considering he wasn't the one saying these things. The mental image the Chamberlain had accidentally created refused to go away, no matter how aggressively he tried to kill it. 

Unfortunately, there was another problem buried underneath the embarrassment. A strange, uncomfortable feeling that had been appearing far too often recently. The same feeling that showed up whenever people discussed Zuko's future wife. Or marriage. Or heirs. Or anything even remotely related. [Y/n] immediately ignored it. As usual. 

But it was getting noticeably harder to.

"Chief Strategist?" The Chamberlain finally seemed to notice something was wrong.  Too little, too late. 

"I'm fine." He was absolutely not fine. The older man frowned. 

"You do not appear fine." 

"You're trying to have a conversation about my best friend impregnating me. In what universe would I actually be fine?" The strategist looked toward the ceiling. "I assure you, this is not improving my day." The Chamberlain seemed to consider that. 

"A fair point." That somehow made it worse. Because now the older man was treating the entire discussion like a perfectly reasonable administrative matter instead of the complete nightmare it had become. 

Meanwhile, [Y/n] was trying very hard not to think about the image that had lodged itself in his brain. Or the increasingly familiar ache in his chest. Or the fact that both seemed strangely connected. Instead, he chose the far safer option of deciding there was something deeply wrong with the Grand Chamberlain and focusing all his energy on that conclusion. It was significantly easier than examining anything else.

~*~

Later that night, [Y/n] found himself right back where he seemed to spend half his life these days: alone in his office with a stack of reports, a cooling dinner, and entirely too many thoughts. 

The palace had grown quieter as evening settled over the capital. Most ministers had gone home. Servants moved more quietly through the halls. Even the usual bustle beyond his window had diminished as the city prepared for sleep. Unfortunately, his mind had received no such instructions. A report sat open in front of him. He had supposedly been reading it for the last ten minutes. Judging by the fact that he'd reached the same sentence four separate times, it wasn't going particularly well. Nearby, the remains of his dinner sat mostly untouched. He picked at it occasionally out of obligation rather than hunger before inevitably becoming distracted again.

The banquet wasn't helping. Every time he thought he had successfully pushed it from his mind, something dragged it back. The guest lists. The security concerns. The nobles. The council. The endless discussions about wives, heirs, and succession. The entire thing felt like an approaching storm he couldn't avoid no matter how hard he tried. 

Worse, every conversation seemed to make the knot in his chest tighten a little more. The Chamberlain's comments certainly hadn't helped. The strategist groaned and dropped his forehead against the desk. Agni above. He wished the older man would stop trying to solve the nation's problems through increasingly disturbing marriage proposals. The image of the Chamberlain calmly discussing hypothetical children and political advantages resurfaced. [Y/n] immediately wanted to throw himself through the nearest window. Unfortunately, that would only create paperwork, which would somehow make everything worse.

And then there was Zuko. Somehow, despite all the other problems demanding his attention, his thoughts kept circling back to him anyway. The strategist closed his eyes and immediately regretted it. Every road his thoughts travelled lately seemed to end in the same place. 

The banquet led to discussions about wives. Wives led to thoughts about Zuko. The Chamberlain's insanity led to thoughts about Zuko. Half his memories somehow led back to Zuko. 

And buried beneath all of it was a strange, uncomfortable feeling he still refused to examine directly. Because the moment he acknowledged it, he suspected he would understand exactly why the thought of some political marriage bothered him so much. And that was a realisation he wasn't remotely prepared to have. So instead, he reached for another report and pretended the words in front of him were somehow more complicated than the disaster currently unfolding inside his own head.

His eyes drifted away from the report again. Not toward the banquet this time. Not toward the Chamberlain's increasingly disturbing opinions on succession. Instead, his thoughts wandered back to the Southern Water Tribe.

Back to that room.

Back to that night.

The memory had become annoyingly easy to revisit.

[Y/n] could still remember exactly where they had been sitting. The room had been dark except for the faint light filtering through the windows from outside. The distant glow of the fading southern lights had painted soft colours across the floor and walls while the rest of the world seemed to disappear beyond the glass. Neither of them had been particularly composed. He certainly hadn't been. He'd been exhausted, terrified, angry, and carrying far more than he should have for far too long. 

Zuko hadn't looked much better. The Fire Lord had spent most of the evening worrying about him, trying to understand what was happening, trying to help despite barely having enough information to work with. They had been sitting close enough that [Y/n] could still clearly remember every expression that crossed Zuko's face throughout the conversation. The concern. The frustration. The stubborn determination whenever he thought [Y/n] was being an idiot.

The strategist closed his eyes. Immediately regretting it. Because now the memories felt even clearer.

The sound of Zuko's voice.

The way they refused to let each other keep blaming themselves for everything.

The conversation had started as an apology.

It had become something else entirely.

Somewhere along the way, years of things left unsaid had simply spilt out between them. Not because either of them had planned it. Not because either of them had been ready for it. Because they had run out of ways to avoid it. For perhaps the first time since they reunited, they'd both been completely honest. About the fear. About the worry. About how much seeing the other person hurt affected them. And above all else, about how much they cared. The memory of it still made something tighten painfully in his chest. Not because he regretted it. Quite the opposite. Because every word had been true.

That was the problem.

Every word had been true.

[Y/n] slowly lowered his gaze to the report in front of him, though he wasn't reading it anymore. He was remembering the look in Zuko's eyes when he'd admitted how much he wanted to protect him. Remembering his own frustration when Zuko blamed himself for [Y/n] being targeted. Remembering the realisation that neither of them had ever really questioned it. 

Somewhere along the way, protecting each other had simply become natural. Expected. Instinctive. Neither of them had thought twice about it until that conversation forced them to put it into words. And once those words existed, once they'd admitted just how important the other person was, it became impossible to pretend otherwise. The strategist stared at the untouched report while the memory lingered stubbornly in his mind. Because no matter how many times he tried to focus on the banquet, the Burning Eye, or the mountain of paperwork covering his desk, his thoughts always seemed to circle back to the same conclusion. 

Back to the same person. 

Back to Zuko. 

And that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

[Y/n] dropped the report onto the desk. Then immediately buried his face in both hands. Trying to think. Trying not to think. A shaky breath escaped him. The office suddenly felt too quiet. Too small. Too confining. Agni above.

"I can't..." The words slipped out before he could stop them. Barely more than a whisper. The strategist squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "No." Something like that wasn't for him. It couldn't be. Not this. Not now. Not ever. 

The thought alone was enough to make his chest tighten.

So he did what he always did when confronted with something he didn't want to examine.

He started making excuses.

It was stress. That was all. Exhausted. Overworked. Stressed. The banquet was approaching. The Burning Eye was still out there. The entire nation seemed determined to shove Zuko toward a marriage he clearly didn't want.  Of course, he was upset. Of course, he was irritated. Anyone would be frustrated by that. Anyone would be angry on his behalf. Anyone would hate listening to council members discuss heirs and succession while completely ignoring what Zuko actually wanted. 

That was all this was. Concern. Worry. Protectiveness. Frustration on Zuko's behalf. Nothing more. Nothing complicated. Nothing dangerous.

The explanation sounded increasingly hollow every time he repeated it. Unfortunately, that didn't stop him from trying. The strategist dragged his hands down his face and stared at the reports scattered across his desk, trying desperately to regain control of the conversation occurring inside his own head. Unfortunately, his memories had already escaped containment. And once they did that, there was very little he could do to stop them. 

They moved before he could hold them back. Not toward the banquet. Not toward the Chamberlain. Not even toward the Southern Water Tribe.

Instead, they wandered all the way back to the day he'd returned to the capital. To the Pai Sho board. The first game after nearly ten years apart. The memory arrived with painful clarity. The quiet room. The board between them. The familiar pieces. And Zuko, sitting across from him, smiling. 

The strategist felt his stomach twist. Because he remembered what had happened. He remembered realising that the Fire Lord hadn't simply remembered him. He'd remembered everything. The strategies. The conversations. The arguments. The lessons. The games.

Eight years... Eight years apart, and Zuko had still remembered the exact moves from the last unfinished match they'd played as children. Not approximately. Not generally. Exactly. As though that final game had never really ended.As though he'd been carrying it with him the entire time. 

The realisation had stunned him then. Now, it just hurt.

[Y/n] leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. The memory refused to leave. The image of Zuko carefully rebuilding a game interrupted nearly a decade earlier lingered stubbornly in his mind. As if those years hadn't mattered. Like the board had simply been waiting for them. And with it came the awful realisation that no matter how hard he tried to explain away what he was feeling, no matter how many excuses he invented, his thoughts always ended up in the same place. Always ended up with the same person. 

[Y/n] felt something ache deep in his chest. A sharp, painful feeling that seemed to spread with every passing second. And he hated it. Agni, he hated it. Because no matter how many excuses he came up with, no matter how many times he blamed stress or exhaustion or the banquet or the Chamberlain, the feeling refused to disappear. It only got worse. The strategist lowered his head until his forehead rested against the desk. The wood felt cool. Solid. Grounding. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. 

Because somewhere beneath all the excuses and denials and increasingly desperate attempts to avoid the truth, he was beginning to understand exactly why the thought of Zuko marrying someone else hurt so much. 

And that realisation terrified him. 

So instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on literally anything else. The reports. The banquet. The Burning Eye. The weather. Anything. Anything except the fact that his heart hurt every time his thoughts drifted back to Zuko. And the fact that, despite everything, they always did.

As if the universe had personally decided he wasn't allowed to enjoy a moment of peace, there was a sudden knock at the door.

[Y/n] froze.

For one brief, hopeful moment, he considered pretending he wasn't there. Unfortunately, before he could commit to the idea, the door opened anyway. The strategist looked up and immediately felt his stomach drop. Of course. Of course, it was him. 

Agni apparently wasn't content with merely ruining his day through the Grand Chamberlain and several hours of emotional turmoil. Now the Fire Lord himself had arrived to personally finish the job. [Y/n] swallowed hard and forced himself not to look away. The timing could not possibly have been worse. Five minutes earlier, and he would have still been buried in his hands. Five minutes later, he might have managed to get himself under control. 

Instead, Zuko stepped into the room while [Y/n] silently cursed the gods, fate, and whatever cosmic force had decided this was funny. For one brief, horrifying moment, [Y/n] became acutely aware of every thought he'd been unsuccessfully trying to avoid for the last hour.

Then he forcibly shoved all of them into a mental box.

Locked the box.

Buried the box.

And mentally set the box on fire.

Problem solved.

"Hey." The greeting was casual. Familiar. Dangerously familiar. [Y/n] hated how much that alone affected him right now.

"Hey." His own response sounded normal enough. Hopefully.

Zuko closed the door behind him and took a few steps into the office. Then he stopped. The Fire Lord's eyes narrowed slightly. Not suspiciously; concernedly. The change happened so quickly it almost annoyed him. Almost. [Y/n] knew that look. It was the same look Zuko got whenever he thought something was wrong. Unfortunately, it appeared after only a few seconds of observation. 

"You okay?" The question came immediately. [Y/n] resisted the urge to groan. Agni above, the man noticed everything. One glance. One glance and somehow he'd already figured out something was off. The fact that Zuko was so good at reading him was usually comforting. Tonight it felt like a personal attack. The strategist forced his expression into something resembling normality and looked back down at the report in front of him. 

"I'm fine." He replied. Zuko remained unconvinced. Naturally. 

"You don't look fine." 

"Thank you for that assessment, Fire Lord." The sarcasm earned exactly the response he'd expected. None. Zuko simply continued watching him, waiting patiently. The same way he always did whenever he knew someone was avoiding a question. [Y/n] sighed. There was no point fighting it forever. "I just had a really bad day." That wasn't even a lie. It was just missing several important details. The Chamberlain. The banquet. The increasingly uncomfortable realisation he'd been desperately trying not to acknowledge for weeks, if not months. The Fire Lord studied him for another moment before slowly nodding. 

"That bad?" He asked. [Y/n] stared at the stack of reports covering his desk and let out a tired laugh. 

"You have no idea."

Zuko seemed to accept the explanation. Or at least accept that he wasn't going to get a more detailed answer right now. The Fire Lord nodded once and let the matter drop, something [Y/n] was immediately grateful for. A moment later, Zuko crossed the room and dropped onto one of the cushions near the window. He stretched his arms above his head before leaning back against the wall with a tired groan. The movement looked painfully familiar. They'd both been working too much lately. The strategist watched him settle for a second before forcing his attention back to the report in front of him. Unfortunately, that became difficult when Zuko sighed loudly. 

"The ministers keep giving me files." Another sigh. [Y/n] already knew exactly which files he meant. 

"The women?" 

"The women." The Fire Lord pointed at him immediately. The strategist couldn't help the tired snort that escaped him. Zuko frowned as he suddenly realised something. "Wait, how do you know about the files?" [Y/n] immediately regretted opening his mouth. Unfortunately, it was too late now.

"The Grand Chamberlain found me at the barracks this afternoon." That earned immediate understanding. The Fire Lord groaned and dropped his head back against the wall.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"What did he want?"

The strategist barked out a short laugh. The sound contained absolutely no amusement.

"What do you think he wanted?"

Zuko immediately looked like a man who had just remembered a traumatic experience.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes." [Y/n] sighed tiredly. The Fire Lord covered his face with one hand. [Y/n] continued before he could recover. "He tried recruiting me." That made Zuko lower his hand.

"Of course he did."

"He said you'd listen to me."

"Why?" The Fire Lord immediately looked offended. [Y/n] raised an eyebrow.

"Because we're friends."

"That's a terrible reason."

"It was his entire argument."

Zuko let out another exhausted sigh and buried his face in his hands. Meanwhile, [Y/n] found himself watching the Fire Lord for a second longer than he should have, immediately realising what he was doing, and immediately looking back down at his paperwork before his brain could betray him again. Eventually, Zuko rubbed a hand over his face.

"And what did you say?"

"What do you mean, what did I say?" [Y/n] looked offended. The Fire Lord raised an eyebrow. The strategist pointed at him. "I told him no."

"Good."

"Obviously."

"You'd be surprised."

"I really wouldn't."

Zuko snorted. The room fell comfortably quiet for a moment. Then [Y/n] remembered the second half of the conversation.

Immediately regretted it.

Unfortunately, the memory surfaced anyway. The strategist stared at the report in front of him. Then at the wall. Then anywhere except Zuko. Across the room, the Fire Lord seemed to notice. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"There's more?"

"No."

"[Y/n]."

"No." The response came far too quickly. Zuko immediately looked suspicious. The strategist sighed. Eventually, he lowered the report. "The Chamberlain also suggested trying to get you and Mai back together." Zuko looked horrified. Genuinely horrified. The reaction was so immediate that [Y/n] almost laughed. "Right?"

"Why would he think that's a good idea?"

"I asked the same thing."

"Mai would kill him."

"Probably."

"And then she'd kill me."

"Definitely."

That earned another laugh. A real one this time. Small. Brief. But genuine.

"I fix one hundred years of my father's mistakes, and somehow people still decide my biggest problem is being single." The frustration in his voice was enough to make [Y/n] snort. Because honestly? He understood exactly how Zuko felt.

For a moment, the conversation settled again. Comfortable. Easy. The sort of quiet that had always existed between them. Unfortunately, [Y/n] was becoming increasingly aware of how close this conversation was drifting toward the parts he'd spent the last hour trying not to think about.

[Y/n] made a conscious effort to return his attention to the reports after that. The conversation about the Chamberlain was at least familiar territory. Annoying, exhausting territory, but familiar. Far safer than the direction his thoughts had been trying to travel before Zuko arrived. 

So he picked up his brush, lowered his gaze to the document in front of him, and attempted to focus. The problem was that the words refused to stay words. They blurred together on the page, turning into meaningless lines of ink while his thoughts wandered elsewhere. Every time he managed to drag them back, they slipped away again. Toward the Southern Water Tribe. Toward the Pai Sho board. Toward the conversation beneath the lights. Toward Zuko. Agni, especially toward Zuko. The strategist clenched his jaw and forced himself to read the report again.

Across the room, Zuko watched him for a while. Then sighed.

"[Y/n]."

"What?" The strategist immediately knew he was in trouble. The Fire Lord raised his eyebrow.

"You've been reading the same page since I got here."

[Y/n] looked down at the report. Then back up. Then down again. Unfortunately, Zuko was right. The realisation only made him more annoyed.

"Maybe it's a very interesting page."

"It isn't."

"You haven't read it."

"I don't need to." The answer came immediately. The Fire Lord leaned back against the wall. "Something's bothering you." The strategist stared at the report.

"Work."

"It's not work."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know what you look like when you're annoyed by work." He paused for a moment, genuine concern beginning to lace his voice. "This is different." [Y/n] hated that answer. Partially because it was accurate. Mostly... because apparently Zuko even noticed the differences in how different irritations change even the smallest parts of his expressions. The room fell quiet again. The strategist forced his attention back to the page.

Security reports. Supply requests. Deployment schedules. Anything. 

Anything except the conversation in the Water Tribe. 

Anything except sitting beneath the southern lights while admitting things he'd spent years refusing to say out loud. 

Anything except remembering the look on Zuko's face when they'd talked about protecting each other. 

Anything except the Pai Sho game.

Agni above, especially not the Pai Sho game.

The memory surfaced anyway.

The board. The pieces. The realisation that Zuko had remembered every move after almost ten years apart.

The strategist felt something twist painfully in his chest, immediately shoved the thought away, and cursed when it came back.

Followed by the conversation in the Water Tribe. Followed by the banquet. Followed by the increasingly impossible task of pretending none of those things affected him.

Across the room, Zuko was still watching him. Concerned. Patient. Waiting. And somehow that only made everything worse.

The strategist felt cornered. Because at this point, he really only had two options. He could tell the truth. He could admit what was actually bothering him. Admit what he'd been thinking about for weeks. Admit why the banquet made his chest hurt. Admit why every conversation about wives and marriages seemed to leave him feeling worse than the last. 

Or he could do literally anything else. 

The second option was immediately more appealing. Unfortunately, the only distraction available was deeply embarrassing. Still, embarrassment was preferable to whatever emotional disaster awaited behind option one. With a silent prayer for strength, [Y/n] swallowed his pride and lowered the report. 

"The Chamberlain mentioned something else earlier." The moment the words left his mouth, Zuko visibly straightened. Concern immediately replaced curiosity.

"What do you mean?" The Fire Lord sat upright. [Y/n] already regretted this. Immensely. Unfortunately, there was no turning back now.

"He..." The strategist rubbed a hand over his face. Agni, he couldn't believe he was about to repeat this conversation. "After the thing about getting you to read the files... And after the thing about Mai... The conversation somehow got worse." Zuko's expression immediately darkened. The concern in his eyes sharpened into something more serious. 

"Worse how?" The question came out far too quickly. Clearly, his mind had already jumped to several unpleasant possibilities. The Fire Lord looked genuinely worried now, which only made [Y/n] feel worse about using this as a distraction. Unfortunately, he was committed. 

"Trust me..." He muttered. "You're not going to like this one either." [Y/n] let out a long sigh. Then another. The second one somehow contained even more regret than the first. "After I refused to help with the wife thing..." He began, already questioning every decision that had led him here. "The Chamberlain decided to explain why the entire situation would apparently be easier if I... were a woman."

The Fire Lord blinked. Once. Twice. Clearly waiting for the rest of the explanation. 

"He said I have political influence." [Y/n] rubbed a hand over his face.

"Okay." Zuko nodded slowly.

"He said we're close."

"Still okay."

"He said you trust me."

"I do." The Fire Lord frowned slightly.

"Exactly." The strategist lazily pointed at him. Unfortunately, he was now committed to finishing the story. "He then explained that if I were a woman, all of the succession problems would have solved themselves."

The room fell silent. Zuko stared. Not horrified. Not embarrassed. Just confused. Like his brain had briefly stopped functioning.

"What?"

"That was my reaction."

The Fire Lord continued staring. Apparently, trying to figure out how those pieces connected together. Unfortunately, the answer arrived a moment later. [Y/n] could practically watch it happen. The confusion disappeared. The realisation hit. Then understanding followed immediately afterwards. And suddenly Zuko's entire face turned bright red. 

"He didn't..."

"Oh, he absolutely did." [Y/n] sighed in exasperation. The Fire Lord buried his face in one hand. [Y/n] continued before he could stop himself. "He said we'd already be close." The flush spread further. "He said the council would approve."

"Worse."

"He said the public would approve."

"Please stop."

"He said any hypothetical children would probably inherit strong strategic abilities." The Fire Lord made a strangled noise. A genuinely alarming sound. One that suggested his soul had briefly attempted to escape through his mouth. The strategist nodded.

"Please stop talking."

"I asked him that too."

Zuko's face was now red enough to rival a volcano. Meanwhile, [Y/n] felt a small amount of vindictive satisfaction. Not because he enjoyed embarrassing Zuko. Because for the first time all evening, somebody else looked more uncomfortable than he did. Unfortunately, the Fire Lord still wasn't done processing the conversation. For several long seconds, he simply sat there. Silent. Red-faced. Staring at absolutely nothing.

Eventually, he lowered his hand and looked back toward [Y/n]. The expression on his face somehow managed to combine horror, disbelief, embarrassment, and profound confusion all at once. And the worst part? The strategist knew exactly how he felt.

The Fire Lord made a noise of profound suffering. Meanwhile, [Y/n] found himself feeling only a tiny amount of sympathy. A very tiny amount. Mostly because he had already lived through the conversation.

"Honestly..." The strategist continued. "I'm jealous."

"What?" Zuko immediately looked up.

"I'm jealous."

"Why?" The Fire Lord stared. [Y/n] pointed at him.

"Because you didn't have to stand there while he explained it." The confusion lasted approximately one second. Then the realisation hit. Then horror. Then embarrassment. Then a fresh wave of horror. The strategist continued anyway. "He spent five minutes listing reasons, and then he explained how all of those problems would apparently be solved if you could put a baby in me."

Silence. Complete silence.

Zuko froze. Completely.

The Fire Lord's face turned red so quickly it was almost impressive. For one terrifying moment, it looked like his soul simply left his body. His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. No words emerged.

[Y/n] watched the process with the detached fascination of someone observing a natural disaster. Across the room, Zuko looked ready to throw himself directly into the sun. Not metaphorically. Literally. Though the nearest volcano would probably suffice.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the Fire Lord managed to drag a hand down his face. Slowly. Painfully. Like he was attempting to erase the entire conversation from existence.

"Why?" The question emerged as little more than a whisper.

"I don't know."

"Why would he say that?"

"I don't know."

"Why would he think that?"

"I don't know."

"Why would he tell you that?"

"I asked myself the same question."

The room fell silent again. Neither of them looked particularly happy to be there. Eventually, Zuko lowered his head into his hands once more. The strategist could see the tips of his ears were still bright red.

Honestly? Fair.

Because every time [Y/n] remembered the conversation, he wanted to launch himself through the nearest wall.

At least now somebody else was suffering with him.

Zuko remained frozen for several more seconds before something seemed to snap. The horror vanished. The embarrassment remained. Unfortunately, it was immediately replaced by a level of awkwardness that [Y/n] had never witnessed before. 

"I'm going to kill him." The declaration came out of nowhere. The Fire Lord sat upright. "Actually, kill him." He pointed vaguely toward the door. "I'm serious." 

"Zuko." 

"No." The Fire Lord rubbed both hands over his face. "No, that's it. He's dead. Tomorrow morning." 

"Zuko." 

"What kind of conversation is that?" The words began tumbling out faster now. "Who says that?" Another gesture. "Who thinks that?" Another. "Who looks at two people and immediately starts-" He cut himself off before finishing the sentence. Probably because he physically couldn't. Across the room, [Y/n] let out a long, suffering sigh and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Unfortunately, he could feel the heat lingering in his own face. Agni above. This had somehow become even worse than when the Chamberlain originally said it.

Still better than admitting what he was trying to bury deep down, though...

The Fire Lord seemed to realise that panicking wasn't helping. Unfortunately, his attempt to recover proved significantly more dangerous. 

"I mean, obviously, that's ridiculous." The statement came out far too quickly. [Y/n] immediately felt his stomach drop. Somewhere deep inside, every survival instinct he possessed began screaming. Zuko continued anyway. "Not you." A pause. "I mean-" Another pause. "You aren't ridiculous." The Fire Lord looked increasingly horrified by his own words. "Agni..."

The strategist stared at the report in front of him. The report stared back. Zuko, meanwhile, was still digging.

"I just mean that we're friends." The hole got deeper. "Really good friends." Deeper. "We've known each other forever." Deeper. "Like family."

[Y/n] felt something twist painfully in his chest. The Fire Lord didn't notice. Or if he did, he misinterpreted it completely.

"The idea of us being..." Zuko gestured vaguely between them before visibly laughing so nervously it bordered on a panic attack. "...anything else is just..." He stopped. The silence lasted half a second. Then he finished the sentence. "Completely insane."

[Y/n] went very still. The strategist kept his expression perfectly neutral, years of political training finally proving useful. Because the alternative wasn't an option.

The sharp stab in his chest arrived immediately. Painful. Unwanted. Utterly humiliating.

And worst of all, completely deserved.

Of course Zuko thought it was ridiculous.

Of course he did.

He was the Fire Lord.

[Y/n] was his best friend.

That was reality.

It always had been.

The strategist forced himself to nod. Slowly. Calmly. As though nothing had happened. As though his heart hadn't just dropped into his stomach. As though every conversation he'd been trying desperately not to have with himself hadn't suddenly become significantly more difficult.

"Right." The word came out perfectly steady. So [Y/n] lowered his eyes back to the report and pretended to read it. Pretended not to notice the ache in his chest. Pretended not to care. And above all else, pretended that hearing Zuko dismiss the very idea so completely hadn't felt like being punched directly in the heart.

The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds. For Zuko, it felt much longer. Because now that the panic had started to fade, the words he'd actually said were finally catching up with him.

The Fire Lord replayed the conversation in his head. The Chamberlain. The embarrassment. The desperate attempt to make the situation less awkward. Then the words themselves.

'Like family.'

'Completely insane.'

"Oh... No..." Zuko's voice came out so quiet [Y/n] couldn't even hear it. His eyes widened. The realisation hit him like a falling brick. Agni. That was not what he'd meant. Not even remotely. His gaze immediately snapped toward [Y/n].

The strategist was sitting exactly where he'd been moments earlier, one hand resting against the report on his desk. His expression was calm. Neutral. Completely unreadable. Which somehow made everything worse. Zuko knew him too well. Knew how rarely [Y/n] let difficult emotions show when he didn't want them seen. The Fire Lord opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. For perhaps the first time all evening, he genuinely had no idea what to say. Because every attempt to fix the situation suddenly sounded like it would somehow make it even worse.

Meanwhile, [Y/n] kept his eyes firmly fixed on the report in front of him. The words blurred together. He couldn't have repeated a single sentence if someone asked him to. But he kept staring anyway.

Anything was better than looking up.

Anything was better than seeing whatever expression was currently on Zuko's face.

The strategist swallowed and forced himself to focus on the paper. Forced himself to breathe. Forced himself to think. 

This was reality. That was all. The thought repeated itself over and over inside his head. Reality.

Zuko was his best friend.

The Fire Lord.

The most important person in the nation.

Eventually, he'd find someone.

Eventually, he'd marry.

Eventually, all these conversations about wives and heirs would stop because there would actually be a wife and heirs.

That was simply how things worked. How things had always worked. And no amount of wishing otherwise would change it. The ache in his chest sharpened. [Y/n] immediately shoved it down. Again. As hard as he could.

Because whatever this feeling was, it didn't matter. It couldn't matter.

The strategist tightened his grip on the report. No matter how much he hated it. No matter how much it hurt. No matter how badly some part of him wanted things to be different.

This was reality.

And reality didn't care what he wanted.

So he would deal with it. Like he dealt with everything else. Quietly. Alone. And without letting anyone see how much it was breaking him.

The silence stretched. Not the comfortable kind that had always existed between them. Not the easy quiet that came from years of friendship and familiarity. This felt different. Fragile. Uncertain. The sort of silence where both people knew something had gone wrong, but neither knew how to fix it.

Across the room, Zuko sat frozen on the cushion by the window while [Y/n] remained behind his desk, staring at a report neither of them believed he was actually reading. Every instinct told one of them to say something. Make a joke. Change the subject. Pretend none of it had happened. Instead, neither moved. Neither spoke. The strange distance felt impossible. They had known each other for most of their lives. They could usually tell what the other was thinking before a word was spoken. Yet somehow, tonight, they felt even further apart than when they were separated.

[Y/n] glanced up for a fraction of a second. But he couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand why Zuko still looked troubled. The Fire Lord had said exactly what he believed, hadn't he? He'd made himself perfectly clear. The idea of them being anything more than friends was ridiculous. 'Completely insane.'

So why did he still look so uncomfortable? Why did he keep looking at [Y/n] like he was trying to solve a puzzle he couldn't understand?

The strategist hated the questions. Hated the hope they threatened to create. Because hope was dangerous. Hope led nowhere. So he forced himself to focus on reality instead. On what had actually been said. On what it meant.

Across the room, Zuko was having an equally miserable time. Because he couldn't understand why [Y/n] looked so distant. Or why the calm expression on his face felt wrong. Or why the strategist seemed determined not to look at him.

The Fire Lord replayed the conversation over and over, searching for some way to explain what he had meant, but every explanation sounded worse than the original statement. Worse, the more he looked at [Y/n], the more certain he became that something was hurting him. He just couldn't understand what. And that frightened him. Because, for perhaps the first time since they were kids, he genuinely couldn't read the person sitting across from him. Couldn't understand what he was thinking. Couldn't understand why his own chest felt tight every time [Y/n] refused to look up. 

So the two of them sat there in complete silence, separated by only a few feet and yet somehow unable to reach one another at all, each convinced the other understood the situation far better than they did, and neither willing to admit that they were completely lost.

~*~