Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time the Pyro Archon walked into Xilonen’s workshop, it had seemed so simple—a routine request: a small adjustment to her sunglasses, something about the temple tips slipping during “important Archon business.” Xilonen had no idea that this would be the beginning of something far more exhausting—and infinitely more complicated.

Now, she was slumped over her workbench, head propped in one hand, her eyelids heavy. The rhythmic clang of the hammer striking metal, the heat of the forge, and the soft crackling of the flames had become a soothing lullaby, dragging her closer and closer to sleep. Her tools lay scattered across the workbench in disarray, some still warm from hours of use. Xilonen had been working all day, the sun’s golden light now shifting through the windows, casting long, glowing beams that slanted across the workshop floor.

Her hand slipped off her chin, her head dipping forward, the familiar weight of sleep pulling her under.

Then came the voice she dreaded.

“Xiloooneeeen!”

Her heart leapt in her chest, the rush of adrenaline snapping her awake. Her eyes flew open, her pulse quickening as she jerked upright in the chair, suddenly and acutely alert. That voice. She knew it too well now—loud, cheerful, and carrying with it the unmistakable energy of Mavuika. The Pyro Archon.

Xilonen’s gaze shot toward the front of the workshop, panic bubbling in her chest. She needed an escape. Her eyes darted from the door to the window at the back of the room, her mind racing. She could hear Mavuika’s footsteps approaching—quick, determined, and impossibly enthusiastic.

“Xilonen! Where are you? We need to go over the specs for the sunglasses again!”

Xilonen winced, her whole body tensing. Her eyes flicked back toward the window. It wasn’t exactly meant for a quick getaway, but it had worked before. The memory of her last desperate escape flashed through her mind: she had barely managed to hop through the window and bolt down the alley, making it just far enough for Mavuika to eventually give up.

I could do it again, she thought. Her muscles tensed, ready to spring toward the window, the urge to flee overwhelming. She didn’t have the energy for Mavuika today.

But the door creaked open before she could move.

“Ah, there you are!” Mavuika’s bright voice filled the room, followed by the Archon herself. She stepped inside with that signature swagger, the sunglasses—those sunglasses—precariously perched on top of her head. Her wide grin stretched across her face, and her eyes sparkled with an eagerness that made Xilonen’s stomach twist.

Caught mid-motion, Xilonen froze, halfway out of her chair. The window was no longer an option. With a resigned sigh, she sank back into her seat, mentally cursing herself for not being quicker.

Mavuika strode into the workshop as if it were hers, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “You weren’t trying to sneak off again, were you?” she teased, eyes narrowing playfully.

Xilonen forced a smile, trying to hide the weariness gnawing at her bones. “Mavuika,” she greeted, keeping her voice as neutral as possible, though there was no hiding the exhaustion in her tone. “What brings you here this time?”

“As if you need to ask!” Mavuika laughed, waving her hand dismissively, her vibrant energy bouncing around the room. “It’s the sunglasses, of course! The ones you made me last week?”

Of course. Xilonen’s eyes drifted toward the sunglasses perched atop Mavuika’s head. The very same pair she had spent days crafting with painstaking precision, using only the best materials Natlan had to offer. Indestructible, she had thought. But this was Mavuika. Of course, there was something wrong.

“They’re still in one piece, I see,” Xilonen commented dryly, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Her tail flicked with irritation behind her, a telltale sign of her growing frustration.

Mavuika beamed, entirely oblivious to the edge in Xilonen’s voice. “Oh, for now! But I’ve been thinking… You know how the temple tips are a bit too smooth? I’m worried they might slip off during important Archon business.”

Xilonen raised an eyebrow, though the effort was exhausting in itself. “Important Archon business?”

Mavuika nodded enthusiastically, throwing her arms up in a dramatic gesture. “Training! Combat! Climbing mountains! You know, stuff that’s life or death! I just want to make sure they stay put during the heat of battle.”

Xilonen stared at her for a moment, trying to make sense of the request. Her patience was already fraying at the edges. She had designed those sunglasses to withstand a literal volcano. Now she had to make sure they didn’t slip during some imagined battle?

“I’m fairly certain I designed them to survive a pyroclastic flow, Mavuika,” Xilonen said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “I’m sure they can handle you climbing a few mountains.”

Mavuika laughed, though this time there was a sheepish note in it. “Yeah, but, you know… just to be sure. You never know what kind of chaos I might run into!”

Chaos. The word couldn’t be more fitting. Mavuika was chaos in human form. Xilonen had grown used to her energy, but it was always exhausting, like trying to calm a wildfire with your bare hands. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress the bubbling frustration, but her tail flicked again.

Finally, she exhaled, long and slow. “Fine,” she muttered, reaching for her tools. “I’ll adjust them. But this is the last time, Mavuika. These are the best sunglasses in all of Natlan—you won’t find anything better.”

Mavuika clapped her hands together, eyes shining with delight. “I knew I could count on you! You’re the best for a reason.”

Xilonen turned back to her workbench, biting the inside of her cheek. She didn’t feel like the best. Not when her hard work was constantly being tested by Mavuika’s impossible standards. “Give me a couple of days,” she said, her voice clipped. “I’ll reshape the tips and make sure they don’t slip during your… Archon business.”

“A couple of days…” Mavuika’s voice trailed off, and Xilonen didn’t even have to turn around to know that she was pouting. She could feel the weight of Mavuika’s disappointment behind her. “But… I kind of want them now.”

Xilonen froze, her grip tightening on the tool in her hand. Slowly, she turned to face Mavuika, one eyebrow raised, her voice low and sharp. “Now? You do realise I can’t just snap my fingers and make it happen, right? Who do you think—”

She cut herself off, biting back the rest of the sentence. Who do you think you are? The words burned on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them down. She knew exactly who Mavuika was. The Pyro Archon. Only the most powerful figure in Natlan. Not exactly someone she could dismiss like a regular customer.

Xilonen closed her eyes for a brief moment, inhaling slowly to calm the frustration rising in her chest. When she opened them again, she muttered under her breath, “The things I do for you…”

“What was that?” Mavuika leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Nothing,” Xilonen snapped, her voice tight. “If you want them now, I’ll see what I can do. But don’t expect miracles.”

Mavuika’s face brightened, her grin returning full force. “I knew I could count on you!”

Xilonen sighed heavily, already feeling the long hours stretching out before her. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited. I’m only doing this because I hate hearing you whine.”

Mavuika gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “Whine? I do not whine! I’m the Pyro Archon!”

“Mm-hmm,” Xilonen muttered, already turning back to the workbench, her tools glinting in the firelight. “Just… sit down. I’ll get started.”

As she reached for the sunglasses, she felt a presence behind her. Mavuika hadn’t moved. Of course, she hadn’t. She was practically hovering over her shoulder, leaning in so close that Xilonen could feel the heat of her breath.

“What’s that tool for?” Mavuika asked, pointing at one of the more delicate instruments.

Xilonen closed her eyes for a beat, biting back her irritation. “It’s for detailing,” she replied, keeping her tone as steady as possible.

“Detailing what?”

“The tips of the glasses, like you just asked me to do,” Xilonen said, the words strained as she ran the tool along the frame. “It’s to make sure they don’t catch or hurt you while you’re doing your ‘important Archon business.’”

Mavuika made an appreciative sound, her breath still far too close. “Oh! And what’s that one for?”

Xilonen’s patience snapped. She set the tool down with more force than necessary and turned to face Mavuika, eyes narrowing. “Mavuika, you’re being distracting.”

Mavuika blinked, taken aback. “What? I’m just watching.”

“Yes,” Xilonen said, exasperated, “but I need to concentrate. If you want these finished tonight like you asked, you need to stop asking me what every tool does. Just… sit down. Over there.”

For a moment, Mavuika’s expression faltered, her lips pulling into a small, disappointed pout. Xilonen immediately looked away, feeling a pang of guilt, but she wasn’t in the mood to entertain Mavuika’s endless curiosity. Not today.

After a beat, Mavuika straightened, her usual smile returning. “Fine! I’ll sit over there,” she said cheerfully, pointing to a small bench near the hearth. Without another word, she skipped over to it, plopping down with the grace of someone who had never known exhaustion.

Xilonen let out a quiet sigh of relief, turning back to her work. “Thank you,” she murmured under her breath, her focus returning to the task at hand. “Maybe now I can actually get this done.”

Mavuika sat in relative silence, but Xilonen could feel her gaze every now and then, as if the Archon’s sheer presence was enough to fill the room with the same restless energy. Despite that, she forced herself to focus, hands moving deftly as she made the requested adjustments to the sunglasses. The sound of metal against metal was all that filled the space for a while, with Mavuika—thankfully—keeping quiet for once.

The time crawled by as Xilonen worked, the warm glow of the forge casting flickering shadows across the walls. She’d managed to make good progress despite the occasional glance Mavuika shot her way. The Archon had stayed remarkably quiet for the last half hour, but Xilonen could still sense her presence—Mavuika’s boundless energy always seemed to fill whatever space she was in.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Xilonen gave the last piece of metal a gentle tap, inspecting her handiwork with a critical eye. The sunglasses gleamed in the low light, every edge polished smooth, every adjustment precisely made to fit Mavuika’s ridiculous request. Satisfied, she set her tools down with a small sigh of relief, leaning back in her chair to admire the finished product.

She held the sunglasses up, turning them slightly in her hands so the firelight caught on the metal frames. They were solid, sturdy—exactly as they should be. No way Mavuika could break these. Not unless she tried.

“All right, Archon,” Xilonen said, a hint of weariness in her voice. She swivelled around in her chair and held the sunglasses out toward Mavuika. “What do you think?”

Mavuika shot up from the bench like a spring, her excitement bubbling to the surface again as she rushed over to Xilonen’s side. She leaned in close, eyes wide and sparkling with delight as she studied the sunglasses.

“Wow,” Mavuika breathed, her enthusiasm barely contained. She reached out, gingerly taking them from Xilonen’s hands. “They look… amazing!”

Xilonen folded her arms, watching Mavuika with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Of course they do. You wouldn’t expect anything less, right?”

Mavuika ignored the teasing, slipping the sunglasses onto her face with a flourish. She turned her head from side to side, clearly admiring herself in the polished reflection of a nearby metal plate.

“They feel… perfect!” Mavuika grinned, pushing the sunglasses up her nose. “No slipping, no pinching. Just like you promised!”

Xilonen couldn’t help but smile at the sight, though she tried to hide it by running a hand through her hair. “Well, I’m glad you approve,” she said dryly. “I’m pretty sure this is the best pair I’ve ever made.”

Mavuika nodded enthusiastically, completely missing the sarcasm. “You really are the best, Xilonen.”

Xilonen, despite her fatigue, felt a flicker of warmth at Mavuika’s words. She wasn’t used to this level of praise, especially from someone as important as the Pyro Archon. Still, she wasn’t about to let Mavuika know that.

“Well, next time, maybe give me more than half a day to work on them,” Xilonen said, her voice laced with mock exasperation. “I’m not a miracle worker, you know.”

Mavuika gave a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of her neck. “Yeah… sorry about that. I just couldn’t wait to see them.”

Xilonen rolled her eyes, trying to keep her cool exterior intact. But watching Mavuika beam like that, so genuinely happy with the sunglasses, made it hard to stay annoyed. There was something strangely endearing about the Archon’s excitement.

Xilonen stretched her arms over her head, her ears flicking at the satisfying feeling of a crack in her joints after hours of work. She cast a glance at the door, her mind already drifting toward the idea of finally getting some well-deserved sleep. Her bedroll, tucked away in the corner of the workshop, was calling her name.

“Anyway,” Xilonen said, trying to keep her tone light but with a subtle edge of finality, “I’m glad you like the sunglasses. You’ve got what you came for, so… you’re all set.”

Mavuika, still admiring her reflection in a nearby polished metal plate, seemed completely oblivious to the underlying message. “I do! They’re even better than I imagined!” She turned to Xilonen with a wide grin. “You really outdid yourself this time.”

Xilonen offered a small, polite smile. “Thanks. So… I’ll see you next time you need something—hopefully not too soon, though. I could use a break.”

She emphasised the last part, hoping Mavuika would pick up on the fact that it was time to leave. But the Pyro Archon just laughed, waving a hand as if the idea of a break was some sort of joke.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be back in no time!” Mavuika said cheerfully, crossing her arms and leaning against the workbench. “I’ve been thinking about some other improvements for the next pair, too. Like, what if we added something extra to the lenses? You know, something that could block out blinding light during a battle! Or maybe—”

Xilonen’s smile faltered as she stared at Mavuika, her eyelids growing heavier by the second. “Uh… right, sounds interesting.” She glanced meaningfully at the door again. “But, you know, I’ll definitely need a couple days to think about that. And rest. Definitely need some rest.”

She hoped this time Mavuika would get the hint. But, to Xilonen’s mounting dismay, Mavuika plopped herself down on a nearby stool, clearly making herself comfortable.

“So, tell me,” Mavuika said, completely ignoring Xilonen’s subtle attempts to wrap things up. “How did you come up with the idea for these sunglasses in the first place? Was it something you learned from your elders? Or did you just figure it out on your own?”

Xilonen suppressed the urge to groan. She could practically feel the soft bedding under her head, the peaceful quiet of her empty workshop… slipping further and further out of reach.

—

The second time the Pyro Archon came looking for Xilonen, it wasn’t a simple request. This time, the sunglasses had already been broken, shattered in some careless misadventure. Xilonen, hidden high above her workshop, thought she might just escape the chaos for once. She had spent the morning steeling herself for peace, convincing herself that, for today, she would not deal with Mavuika’s inevitable calamity. But as always, she had underestimated the persistence—and unpredictability—of her Archon.

Xilonen perched on a narrow ledge near the cliffs above her workshop, concealed under the shadow of a scraggly tree. From this vantage point, she could see the whole winding path that led down to her front door—a path that had now become a lifeline for her sanity. Ever since Mavuika’s visits, she had learned the necessity of strategic retreat.

And now here she was again.

Mavuika strode up the dirt path like she owned the place. Well, technically, she did own all of Natlan, but that wasn’t the point.

From where Xilonen crouched, high above the workshop, she could make out every little detail as the Archon approached—the endless length of red hair tumbling down her back, shimmering in the afternoon sun as if every strand were spun from flames. It glowed and swayed with her every step, making Mavuika seem larger than life, the fire of the Pyro Archon herself reflecting through the golden-red of her eyes. Those eyes, like burning suns, scanned the terrain with an energy Xilonen had long since come to dread.

Xilonen’s ears flicked in mild annoyance as Mavuika’s voice echoed, cutting through the otherwise quiet afternoon air.

“Xiloooooneeeeeeen! Are you home?” Mavuika’s voice boomed with that endless, boundless energy, the same enthusiasm she’d brought the last several times—and probably the same as the next would bring too.

Xilonen sighed, leaning further into the shadow of the cliffside, careful to keep still. From behind the tangle of branches, she could just barely make out the top of Mavuika’s head as she neared the workshop door.

She’s going to break down the door at this rate, Xilonen thought with a mixture of amusement and resignation. The Archon had no concept of subtlety, that much was obvious, and as usual, there was a certain inevitability to the way she moved, as if even her searches held the same intensity she brought to battle.

Mavuika stopped at the entrance to the workshop, her head craning from side to side, her brilliant red hair catching the afternoon light. It was an unfair kind of beauty, Xilonen found herself thinking, watching the way the strands caught the sun like fire-glazed silk. The light seemed to set her entire figure ablaze, a living flame that never burned out.

Not for the first time, Xilonen considered just how much the Archon contrasted herself. Where Mavuika was a wildfire—wild, consuming—Xilonen was quiet, reserved, a creature of precision and patience. Her own shorter hair, a blondish hue that almost seemed to shimmer in certain lights, framed her face in a far more utilitarian way. She didn’t need the grandeur, not in her line of work. Not that she ever could match Mavuika’s firestorm of energy if she tried.

“Xilonen! You here? It’s important! The sunglasses—well, I broke them! You won’t believe how it happened!” Mavuika’s voice rang out with that unmistakable tone of glee, as if breaking the sunglasses had been an adventure in itself. Xilonen could almost see the grin pulling at Mavuika’s lips, the little sparks of joy she always seemed to carry in her golden-red eyes.

Of course, you broke them , Xilonen thought, pressing the heel of her hand into her forehead. She could feel the dull throb of an impending headache. Sometimes, she had to wonder if Mavuika was deliberately testing the limits of her craftsmanship. No matter how many times Xilonen reinforced the frames, no matter how much care she put into crafting those lenses to withstand the Archon’s wild antics, Mavuika always found a way to return with another disaster.

But that wasn’t her problem right now.

Her problem was making sure she could escape this encounter without being seen. She had hoped—perhaps foolishly—that today would be different. Just one peaceful afternoon. One without loud knocks, without chaos, without Mavuika’s boundless energy filling her space.

Was that really too much to ask?

Xilonen shifted slightly on the narrow ledge, her green eyes narrowing as she assessed her options. There were the cliffs above her—steep, but not impossible to climb if it came to that. She could make a run for it and scale the back of the cliff before Mavuika had time to notice. Or maybe she could just wait it out. Maybe, if she stayed perfectly still, Mavuika would give up.

Doubtful. Mavuika never gave up.

Below, Mavuika was pacing in front of the door now, her long hair catching the breeze, almost hypnotic in the way it fanned out behind her like a fiery banner. The sunlight glanced off her skin, giving her the appearance of someone not quite human, a being forged in flame. Her presence was larger than life, as if the world itself shifted to accommodate her.

“Xilonen!” she called again, frustration creeping into her voice. “Please don’t be hiding from me again! I need you!”

There was a faint pout to her words, and Xilonen’s ears twitched. I’m not hiding , she told herself, flattening against the stone of the cliff. I’m… resting .

But Mavuika’s next words made her sigh again, this time more heavily.

“I really did break them! They’re practically in pieces!” Mavuika cried, holding up what Xilonen assumed must have been the sunglasses, though from this distance, they looked more like a pile of shattered glass.

Xilonen groaned inwardly. Not again. She’d spent hours on those, reinforcing them with materials that were supposed to withstand anything. Clearly, anything didn’t include Mavuika’s chaotic lifestyle.

She let her head fall back against the rock behind her, staring up at the cloudless sky.

I just want one afternoon , she thought, her green eyes drifting closed for a brief moment. One afternoon of quiet. That’s all.

But peace, it seemed, was a luxury Xilonen could rarely afford these days.

She peered down again, catching sight of Mavuika’s frown, the way the Archon crossed her arms, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She could almost hear the gears turning in Mavuika’s head, the mounting determination. She wasn’t going to leave, was she? No, of course not. If anything, this was a challenge now. Xilonen could practically feel the shift in the air—the moment Mavuika decided she wasn’t giving up anytime soon.

That’s when Mavuika did something that made Xilonen’s heart sink. She moved away from the door and turned her gaze upward, scanning the cliffs.

“Xilonen?” she called, her voice louder now, echoing off the rocky outcrops. “I know you’re up there somewhere. You can’t hide forever!”

Oh no.

Xilonen pressed herself flat against the cliffside, her tail curling anxiously behind her. Her heart quickened. She knew that tone all too well—the one Mavuika used when she was on the verge of making this into a grand chase.

Xilonen stayed as still as she could, her body pressed tightly against the cool stone of the cliff, barely daring to breathe. Below her, Mavuika let out an exaggerated sigh and threw her hands up in mock defeat.

"Fine! I guess I’ll just… come back later."

Xilonen's ears twitched, straining to catch every word as Mavuika’s voice faded slightly. Through the branches, she watched the Archon’s figure hesitate at the door, one last glance cast back toward the workshop before she turned away, finally beginning her walk down the path.

A wave of relief washed over Xilonen, her shoulders loosening as Mavuika's bright red hair slowly disappeared from view. Ah, thank the Archons, she thought, her muscles unclenching, the tension she hadn’t realised she was holding draining from her body. She leaned her head back against the rough stone of the cliff and let out a deep, quiet breath. Finally.

The breeze shifted, carrying the distant scent of heated earth and fire—Mavuika's familiar presence fading with each step she took. Xilonen’s eyes drifted shut for a moment, savouring the quiet that had returned, the stillness she so desperately craved. The soft rustling of leaves, the distant hum of insects—everything seemed to fall back into place.

But just as she was about to relax fully, a voice—far too close—sounded right next to her ear.

“Oh! There you are!”

Xilonen flinched so violently that she nearly toppled off the ledge, her hand instinctively reaching out to grab the nearby tree for balance. Her heart lurched, pounding hard against her chest, and her breath hitched in her throat as she whipped her head around, eyes wide with disbelief.

Standing not two feet away, her grin wide and triumphant, was Mavuika.

“M-Mavuika?!” Xilonen stammered, her pulse still thundering in her ears. "How in the world…?"

There she was, Mavuika, in all her fiery glory, standing on the narrow ledge as if it were the easiest thing in the world, her red hair glowing in the afternoon sun, her golden-red eyes gleaming with mischief. Her posture was casual, one hand resting on her hip, as if she hadn’t just startled Xilonen nearly out of her skin.

 "Oh, you know, I thought you might be up here," she said, casually brushing a bit of dirt off her sleeve. Her voice was as light and cheerful as ever, as though startling Xilonen half to death had been part of the plan. “I mean, it’s not the first time you’ve vanished when I came looking for you.”

Xilonen just stared, utterly dumbfounded. How had she even…?

It shouldn’t have surprised her. Mavuika wasn’t just anyone. She was the Pyro Archon, after all—powerful, unpredictable, and infuriatingly good at showing up in places she shouldn’t. But still, sneaking up on Xilonen like this? On a cliff? It was unsettling.

“Well, I wasn’t… hiding,” Xilonen said, her voice a little too tight as she tried to regain her composure. She straightened up, doing her best to sound casual, even though her heart was still pounding from the shock. "I was just… taking a break."

Mavuika gave her a playful look, her golden-red eyes gleaming with mischief. "Up here? On a cliff?"

Xilonen’s mouth opened and closed a few times as she searched for a plausible explanation, but none came to mind. Mavuika, as always, didn’t seem to need one. She took a step closer and, with absolutely no regard for personal space, plopped herself down right next to Xilonen on the narrow ledge.

“So,” Mavuika began, as if nothing strange had happened at all, "about those sunglasses..."

Xilonen sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. She already knew what was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. "You broke them."

“Yep!” Mavuika replied brightly, her voice full of that boundless energy that made it impossible to stay mad at her. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the shattered remains of the sunglasses. "I fell down a hill while chasing a—well, it doesn’t matter what. But the sunglasses? Totally wrecked."

She held out the broken frames with a sheepish grin, and Xilonen couldn’t stop the groan that escaped her lips.

"Really?" Xilonen muttered, taking the broken sunglasses from Mavuika’s outstretched hand. She examined them briefly, noting the deep cracks in the lenses and the twisted frames. "I don’t know why I even bother making these things indestructible if you keep finding creative ways to break them."

Mavuika leaned back against the cliff, her carefree smile widening as she stared up at the sky. "Well, I guess it’s just a special talent of mine. You know, finding all the ways to test your craftsmanship."

Xilonen snorted, despite herself. She rolled her eyes, her annoyance softened by Mavuika’s irrepressible charm. “Great. I’m honoured.”

Still, despite the frustration, Xilonen found herself grinning—just a little. There was something oddly charming about Mavuika’s persistence, even if it meant another long night of repairing the sunglasses. The Pyro Archon had a knack for turning the most exhausting tasks into something almost… endearing. Almost.

Xilonen took the sunglasses from Mavuika’s outstretched hands, her fingers brushing over the warped metal. Her brow furrowed immediately as she turned the frames over in her palm. The more she inspected them, the more ridiculous it seemed. The frames weren’t just cracked—they were mangled, practically unrecognisable.

"Archons, Mav…" Xilonen muttered, disbelief colouring her voice. “How did you even—”

One of the arms was bent at a bizarre angle, like someone had twisted it in a vice, and the bridge between the lenses was snapped clean in half. It was as if the sunglasses had been through a war zone. Xilonen raised her eyes to Mavuika, her voice dripping with exasperation.

"You snapped the frames and bent the arm. Did you get into a fight with a boulder?”

Mavuika only laughed, leaning back on her hands, completely at ease despite their precarious perch on the cliffside. Her long red hair shimmered like molten lava in the sunlight, flowing in a way that seemed almost too graceful for someone who regularly broke everything in sight. "I told you, it was just a little fall. No big deal!”

Xilonen stared at her. No big deal? She rolled the broken frames over in her hands again, the twisted metal gleaming dully in the afternoon light. If this was what “no big deal” looked like, Xilonen didn’t want to imagine what a serious accident might involve. Her gaze shifted from the mangled sunglasses back to Mavuika’s face, and a sudden realisation hit her.

“You were wearing these, right?” Xilonen’s voice sharpened, the concern cutting through her usual irritation. Without thinking, she turned fully toward Mavuika, reaching out with one hand to gently grip her chin, tilting her head to inspect it more closely.

Mavuika froze, her confident grin faltering for the first time as Xilonen leaned in, her green eyes scanning Mavuika’s face with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. "You could’ve gotten hurt, Mav,” Xilonen muttered, her fingers brushing against Mavuika’s cheek as she tilted her head, looking for any sign of injury.

Mavuika’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. Her usually bold demeanour wavered as Xilonen’s face hovered mere inches from hers. Too close. For once, the Pyro Archon had no witty remark ready. "Uh… I’m fine,” Mavuika stammered, her voice coming out softer than usual.

Xilonen, entirely focused on her task, didn’t notice the sudden shift in Mavuika’s tone. She turned Mavuika’s face gently, checking her jawline, her fingers lingering against the warm skin. “You cracked the frames in half. You could’ve taken out an eye.”

Mavuika’s heart pounded in her chest, but it wasn’t because of the fall. "I’m fine,” she repeated, her voice unsteady. The usual bravado was gone, replaced with something far more vulnerable. She wasn’t used to being this close to Xilonen, not like this. And the attention? It made her head spin.

It wasn’t until Xilonen’s emerald eyes met hers that Xilonen seemed to realise just how close they were. Her hand froze, still resting on Mavuika’s chin, as a heavy silence fell between them. For a moment, neither of them moved. The tension was thick—unspoken, undeniable.

Suddenly, Xilonen pulled her hand away, awkwardly retreating as she settled back onto the ledge. Her face flushed with realisation. "You could’ve gotten hurt!” she blurted, a little too loudly, as if trying to shake off the lingering awkwardness. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to regain her usual composure.

Mavuika, still feeling the warmth of Xilonen’s touch on her skin, blinked a few times, struggling to shake off the flustered feeling that had crept up on her. "I-I’m fine," she repeated, more defensively this time. She waved her hand dismissively, trying to sound casual, though her voice lacked its usual confidence. “Please, Xilonen, I’ve been through worse.”

Xilonen narrowed her eyes slightly, still unconvinced. "You’re lucky you didn’t get more than just broken sunglasses. These were supposed to be unbreakable, you know."

Mavuika chuckled nervously, her usual confident tone slipping back into place as she leaned back on her hands. "Yeah, well, I guess I’m just really good at testing your limits."

Xilonen sighed, running a hand through her hair. The irritation that had gripped her moments ago was melting into something softer, an exasperated fondness she couldn’t quite hide. "Be more careful, Mav. Next time, you might not get so lucky."

Mavuika grinned, nudging Xilonen playfully on the arm. "You worry too much. I’m the Pyro Archon, remember? I don’t go down that easily."

Xilonen, despite herself, found a smile tugging at her lips. "Doesn’t mean you should push your luck," she muttered, though her voice had softened. No matter how reckless Mavuika could be, Xilonen was relieved. She was okay, and that was all that mattered.

"Well, I’ll try not to break anything else," Mavuika said with a playful wink, her usual bravado fully restored. "But you’ll fix these, right?"

Xilonen groaned, looking down at the wrecked sunglasses again. "I’ll fix them," she muttered, pocketing the mangled pieces. “But for the love of the Archons, Mav, try not to break them again the moment I hand them back to you.”

"No promises," Mavuika replied, her grin turning mischievous.

Xilonen shook her head, slipping the sunglasses into her pocket with a sigh. She shifted slightly on the ledge, ready to head back to her workshop and get started on yet another repair. Her ocelot ears flicked as she stood, and with a single, fluid motion, she slipped gracefully off the ledge.

Mavuika blinked, sitting up straight as Xilonen seemed to vanish from view with one fluid motion. Her heart leaped, a quick panic flashing through her mind— Had Xilonen just fallen?

She scrambled to her feet and rushed to the edge of the narrow ledge, peering over it, her breath catching in her throat. But her panic melted away in an instant.

Below, Xilonen landed effortlessly, her sleek, feline grace as natural as the breeze that ruffled her short blond hair. Her ocelot tail flicked behind her, a lazy, confident swish, as if she hadn’t just dropped several feet from a cliffside. Xilonen straightened up, her green eyes calm and unreadable as she casually adjusted, her ears twitching in quiet satisfaction. Without a glance back, she was already heading toward the workshop, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Mavuika’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Uh… okay,” she muttered, blinking at the spot where Xilonen had just been. “I guess we’re just doing this, then.”

Mavuika took a step back, eyeing the narrow ledge she had to descend. Xilonen had made it look so easy—too easy. But Mavuika wasn’t exactly the “graceful acrobat” type. She could take on volcanic eruptions without breaking a sweat, but cliff-jumping? That was another story. Her confidence wavered slightly, but only for a moment. She steeled herself, took a deep breath, and swung her legs over the edge.

Her movements, however, weren’t nearly as smooth as Xilonen’s. Instead of a graceful leap, it was more of an awkward scramble, her feet slipping on the rocky surface. She used her arms far more than she’d have liked to admit, gripping at anything solid to steady herself. By the time she finally made it to the ground, her cheeks were flushed from the effort, and Xilonen was already halfway to the workshop, her tail swaying lazily behind her.

Mavuika dusted herself off, grumbling under her breath as she hurried to catch up, her usual confidence dimmed by the less-than-elegant descent. “You know,” she called after Xilonen, her voice a little breathless, “you could’ve waited. Not everyone can just leap off cliffs like that.”

Xilonen glanced over her shoulder, her emerald eyes glinting with amusement. Her ocelot ears twitched slightly, catching the slight whine in Mavuika’s tone. “You’ll be fine. You’re an Archon, after all,” she said with a teasing grin. “Besides, if you keep following me around, you’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Mavuika huffed, finally reaching her, her usual bravado returning. “Yeah, well, maybe not all of us are acrobats,” she muttered, casting a quick glance at Xilonen’s tail, which flicked in rhythm with her easy, confident stride.

Xilonen only shrugged, turning back toward the workshop door. “Agility comes with the territory,” she said, her tone casual, almost dismissive. “It’s not my fault you insist on breaking things and making me fix them.”

Mavuika chuckled despite her bruised pride. “Fine, fine. Just let me in this time, okay? I don’t want to have to climb up to find you again.”

Xilonen paused at the door, casting a quick glance over her shoulder, her lips curving into a smirk. “Fair enough,” she said with a flick of her tail, the teasing still clear in her voice. “No more ledges for today.”

As soon as Xilonen opened the workshop door, the familiar heat from the forge embraced her like an old friend, its warmth soothing the lingering fatigue that clung to her limbs. The rhythmic crackle of embers hummed in the background, a constant companion to her work. This place, her sanctuary, felt safe—until Mavuika followed behind her, trailing an energy that disrupted the calm with every step.

Xilonen moved with effortless grace, her body slipping into the familiar rhythm of the workshop. Her tail flicked with precision, matching the subtle shifts in her focus as she reached for her tools. But even as she immersed herself in the tasks at hand, she could feel Mavuika’s presence lingering at the threshold, like an eager flame just waiting to be stoked.

Mavuika leaned against the doorframe, her golden-red eyes gleaming with curiosity as she watched Xilonen work. She made no attempt to hide her fascination with the blacksmith’s fluid movements, the way Xilonen’s ears twitched and her tail curled with each new task.

"I still don’t get how you can move like that," Mavuika remarked, shaking her head in amusement. She stepped further into the room, her voice carrying a lightness that was impossible to ignore. "You’re like… a shadow. One second you’re there, and then poof! Gone."

Xilonen barely acknowledged her, her fingers already wrapped around the handle of a hammer. She tested its weight in her hand, her mind focused on the task ahead. "It’s just practice," she replied, her tone clipped and practical. "Or maybe it’s because you’re too loud to notice when someone sneaks off."

Mavuika raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing on her lips. She moved closer, undeterred by the subtle edge in Xilonen’s voice. "Oh, I see how it is. You’re saying I’m loud?"

Xilonen’s lips twitched into a smirk, though she didn’t look up from her work. "Did I say that?"

Mavuika rolled her eyes, her grin widening as she leaned against the workbench. "You might’ve implied it," she muttered, but her usual fire was tempered, her voice softer as she watched Xilonen with an unreadable expression.

A moment passed, and Xilonen felt the familiar weight of exhaustion creeping up on her. She reached for the shattered sunglasses, picking them up as if they were fragile glass, despite how indestructible they were supposed to be. The frames, snapped and twisted, seemed to mock her—another mess to fix. Another sleepless night.

"Okay, for real though," Xilonen sighed, her gaze fixed on the broken frames. "These can’t be fixed in a day."

Mavuika blinked, her usual grin faltering as she processed Xilonen’s words. "Oh," she said softly, as if caught off guard. "Well, how long will it take?"

Xilonen didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she set the sunglasses down and grabbed her notebook, flipping through pages of sketches and commission notes. Each page was a reminder of how behind she was, how much more work was waiting for her. Her fingers tightened around the edges of the notebook, her frustration mounting.

"A week," she finally said, her voice flat. "Maybe more."

She ran a hand through her hair, her ears flicking in annoyance as she stared at the pile of unfinished projects. "I’ve got other commissions to finish first. People who’ve been waiting patiently for their orders," she added, her tone hardening with a hint of bitterness. "Unlike some."

Mavuika’s eyes widened in disbelief, her body tensing with shock. "A week?!" she exclaimed, her usual lightheartedness crumbling. She pushed off the doorframe, crossing the space between them in a few quick steps. "No way! I can’t wait that long! What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

Xilonen’s tail flicked sharply, her irritation finally bubbling to the surface. She turned to face Mavuika fully, her arms crossing over her chest as her green eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, ‘what am I supposed to do?’" she demanded, her voice edged with frustration. "You’re the Pyro Archon. You’ve got an entire nation to run. Surely you have more important things to focus on than a pair of sunglasses."

Mavuika huffed, waving a hand as if to dismiss Xilonen’s point entirely. "That’s not the issue! What if something happens, and I’m out in the field and—"

"—and you’re forced to go without sunglasses for a few days?" Xilonen cut in, raising an eyebrow, her sarcasm biting. "I’m sure you’ll survive."

Mavuika pouted, her usual confidence replaced with a flicker of desperation. "But I don’t just want to survive, Xilo. I need to thrive." She crossed her arms, her expression suddenly serious. "Do you know what the sun’s like out there? Blinding. You expect me to handle that and Archon duties?"

Xilonen let out a long, slow breath, feeling the pressure of the day settle heavy on her shoulders. “It’s just a week, Mav,” she said, rubbing her temple with the heel of her hand, trying to stave off the tension building behind her eyes. “I’m one person. I can’t drop everything just because you broke something again.”

Her voice had an edge sharper than usual, and the weariness was clear, even to Mavuika, who immediately stiffened at the change in Xilonen's tone. The Pyro Archon wasn’t used to hearing this kind of irritation from Xilonen, and her fiery eyes widened for a split second before she crossed her arms and pouted, clearly not pleased with the answer.

“But I don’t have time to wait around!” Mavuika protested, her voice climbing in frustration. “A week feels like forever!”

Xilonen’s tail flicked behind her in agitation, a subtle yet unmistakable sign of her dwindling patience. “Maybe if you stopped breaking them in the first place, this wouldn’t be an issue,” she snapped, her tone sharper than intended.

Mavuika blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden edge in Xilonen’s voice. Her lips parted as if she were going to fire back, but instead, she raised her hands in surrender, her expression softening. “Okay, okay,” she said quickly, her tone losing its bite. “I get it. I’ll try to be more careful. But…”

Xilonen groaned under her breath, already turning her back on Mavuika as she set the mangled sunglasses down on the workbench with a loud clink. “No ‘buts,’ Mav. A week. Maybe less if I can clear through some of these other orders.” Her voice was firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

Behind her, Mavuika slumped against the wall dramatically, crossing her arms and sticking out her lower lip in a childish pout. “A week… That’s so long, though,” she muttered, sounding more like a petulant child than the Archon of Natlan.

Xilonen’s ears twitched in irritation, her tail giving another agitated flick. She bent over the workbench, her hands running over the other half-finished projects stacked in front of her. “Mavuika,” she said, exhaling through her nose as if trying to reign in her temper. “I’ve got a long list of people who’ve been waiting patiently for their orders. If you don’t let me work in peace, you’re going to end up waiting even longer.”

There was a brief silence as Mavuika seemed to weigh her options, the cogs in her mind turning behind those golden-red eyes. “You sure you can’t squeeze me in?” she asked finally, her tone hopeful but laced with mischief.

Xilonen could hear the playful grin behind her words, even without looking up. Her patience hung by a thread. “Mav,” she warned, her voice low, “I swear to the Archons—if you keep pushing, I’ll make you wait two weeks.”

Mavuika gasped, her hands flying to her chest in mock horror. “Two weeks? You wouldn’t!”

Xilonen’s ears flicked with a mixture of irritation and reluctant amusement. “Try me.”

For a moment, there was quiet. Xilonen felt the weight of Mavuika’s gaze on her, but she kept her eyes firmly on her work. The silence stretched, and then she felt Mavuika shift, moving closer. “Well…” Mavuika began slowly, a sly grin creeping across her face as she leaned in. “What if I offered you something in return?”

Xilonen’s ears twitched, but she didn’t look up. She had heard that tone before—smooth, playful, and entirely too persuasive for her own good. “Mav, I’m not interested in any of your ‘trade deals’ or favours,” Xilonen muttered, her hands busy adjusting a different commission on the workbench. “I already told you—I’ve got a lot of work to get through. It’ll take a week.”

“No, no, hear me out,” Mavuika persisted, her grin widening. She pushed herself off the wall, moving to stand directly behind Xilonen, her presence unmistakable. “What if I could… let’s say… give you some extra time off? You know, as a reward for your hard work.”

Xilonen stopped what she was doing, her head turning ever so slowly to look at Mavuika, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Extra time off? How exactly do you plan to do that?”

Mavuika puffed out her chest, looking incredibly pleased with herself, as though she had just offered the solution to every problem in the world. “Well, I’m the Pyro Archon, aren’t I?” she said with a flourish, her voice dripping with confidence. “I can give you some time off, no problem! I mean, who’s going to say no to the Pyro Archon if I tell them to give my favourite blacksmith a break?”

Xilonen blinked, utterly stunned by the sheer audacity of Mavuika’s plan. “Wait... you think you can just dictate when I get time off?” Her voice carried a sharp edge of disbelief, as if she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the absurdity of what she was hearing.

Mavuika, on the other hand, beamed like she’d just come up with the perfect solution to everything. “Of course!” she declared, puffing out her chest with pride, clearly pleased with her so-called brilliance. “I’m the Pyro Archon! If I say you deserve extra days off, then who’s going to argue? Besides, you’ve been working so hard. Don’t you think you deserve it?”

Xilonen just stared at her, trying to decide if this was Mavuika being serious or if this was her usual blend of playful chaos and misplaced logic. With Mavuika, it was hard to tell. Half the time, her ridiculous ideas somehow turned into actual plans, leaving Xilonen to deal with the aftermath.

She let out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head in disbelief as she leaned back against the workbench, arms crossed over her chest. “So, let me get this straight... You think you’ll just walk into my clients’ homes, tell them their orders are delayed because you’ve decided I need time off, and expect that to go over smoothly?”

Mavuika tilted her head to one side, golden-red eyes narrowing slightly as if she was giving it serious thought. “Well... yeah, why not? It’s not like anyone’s going to say no to me. You deserve a break after all these late nights.”

Xilonen pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep her temper in check. "You… you do realise that's not how it works, right?" Her voice was slow. "I can't just stop working because you tell everyone I need time off."

Mavuika waved her hand dismissively, already brushing off Xilonen’s protests like they were irrelevant details. “Sure you can! I’ll take care of everything. Pull a few strings, make some speeches— ‘For the good of Natlan, our blacksmith deserves a vacation! ’” She even spread her arms out dramatically, like she was already imagining herself on a stage, delivering this grand proclamation.

Xilonen stared at her for what felt like an eternity, her eyes narrowing as she tried to process the sheer madness of it. Finally, with a sigh, she threw her hands up in defeat. “Okay, Mav. Fine. You can explain to the people why their swords and armour aren’t ready because you decided I needed time off.”

Mavuika’s grin only widened, clearly thinking she had won this little battle of wills. “Great! So, I’ll expect the sunglasses to be done in... three days, then?”

Xilonen’s eyes narrowed to slits, her tail swishing behind her in a slow, deliberate arc. “No. Still a week.”

Mavuika pouted instantly, her enthusiasm deflating like a balloon. “But—”

“No ‘buts,’” Xilonen cut her off sharply, her voice firm as steel. She crossed her arms and glared at the Archon. “You’re not bribing me into skipping the rest of my work just for your sunglasses. Not even if you’re the Pyro Archon. ”

Mavuika opened her mouth, probably to argue further, but one look at Xilonen’s unyielding expression made her reconsider. She slumped dramatically against the doorframe, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Fine. A week, then.”

Xilonen allowed herself a small, victorious smile as she turned back to her workbench. “Thank you,” she said, her voice lighter now, though there was still an unmistakable edge of amusement to it. “Now, if you’d kindly let me get back to it, maybe I’ll even surprise you and finish early.”

Mavuika’s eyes brightened at the possibility, and she practically bounced in place, leaning forward eagerly. “Ooh, really?”

Xilonen rolled her eyes, but her tone was teasing now, the tension between them easing. “Maybe.”

Mavuika grinned wide, already forgetting the whole argument in favour of her excitement. Xilonen couldn’t help but smile to herself as she watched Mavuika from the corner of her eye. The Archon might have been reckless and exasperating, but there was something undeniably endearing about her boundless energy. It made the chaos just a little more tolerable.

–

Xilonen was hunched over her workbench, diligently filing down the edge of a sword she'd been commissioned to make. The repetitive scrape of metal on metal filled the quiet space, its rhythm soothing. Each stroke of the file seemed to sync with the quiet hum of the forge, the crackle of embers flickering in the hearth. This was her world—the calm precision of her craft, the tangible heat of molten steel beneath her fingertips. For once, the workshop was still, the only sound the steady hiss of the forge and the whisper of her own breath.

But peace, in Xilonen’s world, was always temporary.

“Xilonen!”

She froze mid-file, her ocelot ears twitching instinctively at the sound of her name being called from outside the workshop. A groan slipped from her lips, unbidden, as tension settled into her shoulders.

“Xilonen! The Pyro Archon is looking for you!” came the familiar, far too cheerful voice from beyond her sanctuary.

The words hit her like a jolt of lightning, and her body responded before her mind could even catch up. In one fluid motion, she stood, so abruptly that her chair nearly toppled over. Her eyes darted to the door—her usual escape route—then to the back window, the more desperate option she'd come to rely on when things got too chaotic. The thought of leaping through it, sprinting into the alleyway, flickered in her mind like a well-worn memory. It would be easy. She could feel the cool air brushing against her as she ran, hear the crunch of gravel underfoot.

But this time, she stopped herself.

No. Not again. You’re not going to flee like a cornered animal every time she shows up.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. Deep, slow breaths. She could feel the tension crawling through her muscles, but she didn’t move. I’m not running today , she resolved, forcing her heartbeat to slow. Mavuika had already found her twice—both times with her sunglasses in hand, and both times Xilonen had bolted. It was becoming a pattern, and a humiliating one at that. She wasn’t some skittish creature to be chased down. Not anymore.

Instead, she walked to the centre of her workshop, her footsteps deliberate. Arms crossed, she waited, the weight of her decision settling in her chest. If Mavuika wanted to come by, fine. Xilonen braced herself mentally for what was about to unfold.

The familiar sound of quick, eager footsteps approached from outside—heavy, hurried, and unmistakable. The rapid beat echoed through the quiet air, disrupting the fragile calm. Xilonen’s tail flicked behind her, the only sign of her building tension. She kept her gaze fixed on the door, already preparing for the whirlwind of energy about to burst through.

The door swung open with far more force than necessary, and there stood Mavuika, framed in the entryway, her long, fiery hair cascading over her shoulders, catching the light like a burst of flames. Her golden-red eyes, like twin suns, sparkled with a mixture of sheepishness and undeniable excitement.

“Xilonen!” Mavuika greeted, her voice as bright as ever, though there was an edge of nervous energy to it. She took a half step into the room, hesitating slightly, as if she knew what she was about to say wouldn’t be met kindly. “You’ll never guess what happened this time.”

Xilonen didn’t move. Her arms remained tightly crossed over her chest, her expression stoic except for the slight quirk of one eyebrow. “Oh, I think I can guess,” she replied dryly, her voice edged with weary exasperation. “And it involves the sunglasses. Again.”

Mavuika hesitated, her grin faltering for just a moment before it returned in full force. She reached into her pocket, a nervous laugh escaping her. “Well… yeah.” With a sheepish smile, she pulled out what used to be sunglasses—now reduced to shattered fragments.

Xilonen’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the damage. The lenses weren’t just cracked—they were completely shattered, tiny spider web fractures crawling across both lenses like broken glass frozen in time. One side of the frame was entirely caved in, with shards of glass rattling loosely inside the twisted metal.

Her jaw dropped. She blinked once, then twice, not even bothering to hide the disbelief on her face. The absurdity of the situation hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken.

“Mavuika,” Xilonen began, her voice slow, as if each word required extra care to avoid snapping. “How... how did you manage to shatter the lenses?”

Mavuika shrugged, still holding out the wrecked sunglasses as if they weren’t a total loss. “So, you know how I was at the volcano, right? And there was this, uh… explosion? Not a big one! Just a small volcanic tremor, really. I got caught in the middle of a hot ash cloud—long story short, the sunglasses couldn’t take it.”

Xilonen’s eyes widened, and her jaw went slack for a moment before she managed to speak. “You wore them into an explosion?” The question escaped her, half incredulous, half exhausted.

“Well, yeah! They’re supposed to be tough, right?” Mavuika’s signature grin returned, though there was an unmistakable tinge of awkwardness behind it. She gave a small shrug, as if that somehow justified everything. “I figured they could handle it.”

Xilonen closed her eyes for a long moment, pressing her fingers to her temples as if trying to physically push away the rising tide of exasperation. This woman… She inhaled deeply, holding onto her last thread of patience. Every encounter with Mavuika stretched it a little thinner, and today was no exception.

“Mav,” Xilonen finally said, opening her eyes and fixing a flat stare on the Pyro Archon, “these are sunglasses . Not armour. Not a shield. Sunglasses. You don’t wear them into a volcanic ash cloud and expect them to come out in one piece.”

Mavuika gave a helpless shrug, still rocking slightly on her heels like a child trying to avoid getting scolded. “But you’re so good at fixing them! And besides, I didn’t get hurt, right?”

Xilonen groaned audibly this time, her frustration reaching a palpable level as she dragged a hand through her already-messy hair. “That’s not the point! At this rate, I’m going to have to make you sunglasses out of solid iron.”

Mavuika’s eyes lit up instantly at the suggestion, her grin widening into something dangerously enthusiastic. “Oh! Could you do that?”

“No!” Xilonen snapped, waving her hand in exasperation. “That’s not the point. ” Her tail flicked rapidly behind her, betraying her growing agitation. “You shouldn’t be destroying them in the first place! These were meant to withstand combat, not volcanic eruptions!”

Mavuika’s shoulders slumped dramatically, her usual confidence dimming for a moment as she shuffled a little closer, her golden-red eyes taking on a pleading glint. “Sooo… you’ll fix them?”

Xilonen stared at her, her expression hovering somewhere between disbelief and resignation. Her mind raced, trying to grasp how they had ended up in this situation again . How did someone as powerful—and supposedly wise—as the Pyro Archon keep doing this? And more importantly, how did Xilonen keep letting it happen?

With a sigh, she unfolded her arms and walked over to Mavuika, gently taking the shattered sunglasses from her hands as if they were some rare relic rather than the third pair Mavuika had ruined. “You know,” she began, her voice low and tired, “at this point, I’m starting to wonder if you’re breaking these on purpose or if you’re really just that clumsy.”

Mavuika’s grin faltered slightly, her hands coming up in a defensive gesture. “I swear, I’m not doing it on purpose!” she protested, her voice edging toward pleading. “I just… tend to get caught up in the moment.”

Xilonen arched an eyebrow, her tail flicking behind her in irritation. “Right. The ‘moment,’” she muttered, turning the shattered lenses over in her hands, the spiderweb cracks reflecting the low light of the forge. She sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on her shoulders. “A week,” she stated flatly.

Mavuika’s face fell, her whole posture deflating. “Another week?!”

Xilonen met her eyes briefly, her gaze calm but firm. “Yes. A week. Maybe longer, considering you didn’t just crack them this time—you shattered the lenses.”

“But…” Mavuika’s voice was filled with a kind of exaggerated dismay, almost childlike. “I don’t have time for that! You can’t just make me wait forever!”

Xilonen stifled the groan rising in her throat, already moving toward the workbench with the broken sunglasses in hand. The weight of her exhaustion was pressing down on her. “Mavuika, it’s been not even three days since I last fixed these. I’m one person, and I have other commissions to deal with. You’ll have to wait.”

Mavuika leaned dramatically against the doorframe, her entire body radiating disappointment, the very picture of someone who wasn’t used to being told no. “I don’t like waiting.”

Xilonen’s response was as dry as the desert heat. “Clearly.”

A loud, overly dramatic sigh filled the workshop, making Xilonen’s ears twitch. “It’s just…” Mavuika’s voice carried a pitiful edge, her eyes glancing toward the broken sunglasses. “I really liked those lenses.”

“I can tell,” Xilonen muttered under her breath, the sarcasm in her voice sharp enough to cut through steel.

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then Mavuika straightened up, a hopeful gleam in her eyes as she stepped forward. “What if I… promise not to wear them during the next volcano trip?”

Xilonen paused, the humourless smirk creeping onto her face as she half-turned to meet Mavuika’s gaze. Her lips twitched into the smallest of tired smiles. “You should’ve made that promise after the first pair, Mav.”

Mavuika’s pout deepened, but there was a flicker of playfulness in her expression as she threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, fine. No more rolling down hills, no volcanic eruptions, no ash clouds—got it. I promise this time.”

Xilonen fixed her with a long, sceptical stare, her ocelot ears flicking back in disbelief. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her tail flicking more rapidly as she tried to hold back her frustration. “Your glasses aren’t there for you to find every possible way to break them, Mav,” she said, her voice tinged with exhausted exasperation. “They’re not waiting for you to test them in every impossible situation before you realise that you just can’t wear them where they’re going to get broken.”

Mavuika winced, rubbing the back of her neck with a sheepish look. Her bravado seemed to crumble just a little, and she took a small step closer, her usual confidence giving way to something more vulnerable. “I know… I know,” she mumbled. “It’s just… I really liked those sunglasses.”

The shift in Mavuika’s tone made Xilonen pause. Her eyes softened, and the sharpness of her frustration ebbed away, replaced by a twinge of guilt. Mavuika, despite all her reckless energy, looked genuinely disappointed. Xilonen let out a slow, measured breath, feeling the weight of her own irritation dissipate. She uncrossed her arms and glanced down at the broken frames in her hand, her heart tugging just a little.

“You know,” Xilonen began, her voice quieter now, “I don’t make them just so you can keep coming back with a new disaster every week.”

Mavuika blinked, her playful grin faltering as she caught the shift in Xilonen’s tone. There was something in the blacksmith’s voice, something unfamiliar—a kind of softness, almost a plea—and Mavuika wasn’t sure how to respond. “I know. I… I guess I just don’t realise how often I get into these situations.” Her words came out quieter than usual, more tentative. It was rare for Mavuika to feel unsure of herself, and that uncertainty lingered in the space between them.

Xilonen exhaled slowly, shaking her head as she stepped closer, her ocelot tail curling slightly behind her. “You’ve got to take better care of them, Mav. Just because they’re made well doesn’t mean they’re invincible.” Her voice was firm, but there was a crack in the usual armour of exasperation, something gentler edging its way in. “They’re still fragile, just like—”

She stopped abruptly, the words catching in her throat. Just like what? Her thoughts tangled as she tried to finish the sentence, but the moment felt too raw, too close to something she wasn’t ready to confront. She swallowed hard, feeling the heat of the forge pressing in around them, though it was no longer the fire that made her skin feel warm.

Mavuika tilted her head, her golden-red eyes fixed on Xilonen, and for the first time, there was no teasing, no playful deflection. Just an openness, a question hanging in the air between them. “Like what?” she asked quietly, her voice soft, the usual bravado completely absent.

Xilonen’s ears flicked nervously, and she cleared her throat, trying to steady herself. “Like… things you care about,” she said, though her voice faltered as the words came out. She glanced down at the broken sunglasses in her hand, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the jagged edges of the shattered lenses. “They need to be taken care of. Not just thrown into the middle of a volcanic explosion.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Mavuika’s lips, but it wasn’t the bright, confident grin that usually accompanied her mischief. It was softer, gentler, like she was seeing Xilonen through different eyes. “So you’re saying I should be more careful with things I care about?” Her tone was light, but there was something deeper there, an understanding she hadn’t quite grasped before.

Xilonen felt a warmth rising up her neck, not from the forge’s heat but from the closeness of the moment, from the way Mavuika’s gaze lingered on her. She hadn’t meant for the conversation to get so personal, but now that it had, there was no backing out. She was caught in the Archon’s golden eyes, and for the first time, Xilonen wasn’t sure if the racing in her chest was frustration or something else entirely.

“Yeah,” Xilonen mumbled, shifting her weight awkwardly, her tail flicking behind her. “Something like that.”

The air between them felt heavier now, charged with a tension neither of them knew how to name. Xilonen’s heart thudded in her chest as she looked up again, meeting Mavuika’s gaze head-on. There was something different in the way the Archon was looking at her—something softer, something more careful. It made Xilonen’s pulse quicken, her thoughts scrambling to make sense of the unfamiliar sensations coursing through her.

Mavuika’s grin had melted into something more sincere, the playful edge replaced by a rare note of seriousness. “I’ll try to do better,” she said, her voice lower, more earnest than Xilonen had ever heard it. “I mean it.”

Xilonen blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Mavuika was always so full of life, always bouncing between reckless enthusiasm and casual bravado. But this? This was new. This was the Pyro Archon without the flame, without the fire, just a person standing in front of her, making a promise that sounded… real.

She wasn’t used to this version of Mavuika—this calm, this sincerity. It tugged at something deep inside her, something she hadn’t even realised was there. 

“I…” Xilonen hesitated, searching for the right words. The sincerity in Mavuika’s voice, the vulnerability in her gaze—it was disarming. For the first time, Xilonen didn’t know how to respond. She swallowed, her eyes darting away as she tried to pull herself together. “Good. You should.”

But her voice lacked the usual bite. It was softer, almost uncertain, as if she was as surprised by the moment as Mavuika was. The air between them thickened, and for a split second, Xilonen wondered if Mavuika could hear the pounding of her heart in the quiet of the workshop.

Mavuika didn’t move, didn’t speak right away. Instead, she took a small step closer, closing the distance between them. Her golden-red eyes, always so full of fire and energy, had softened to a warm glow, like embers after a long burn. She stood close enough now that Xilonen could feel the gentle heat radiating off her skin, and for the first time, it didn’t feel overwhelming. It felt… comforting.

“I don’t want to break things that matter to me,” Mavuika said, her voice so quiet that Xilonen almost didn’t hear it.

The words struck something deep inside Xilonen, she opened her mouth to say something—anything—but found herself at a loss. The honesty in Mavuika’s voice, the openness in her eyes—it made Xilonen’s chest tighten in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Mav…” she started, but her voice faltered again. She looked down at the broken sunglasses in her hands, the pieces of something fragile that had been so easily shattered. 

Mavuika smiled softly, a gentle, almost shy curve of her lips that made Xilonen’s heart skip a beat. “I mean it,” Mavuika repeated, her gaze steady. “I’ll take better care. Of them..”

Xilonen’s breath caught in her throat. She felt the weight of Mavuika’s words settle over her, and in that moment, something shifted. She wasn’t just the Archon anymore. She wasn’t just the loud, energetic force of nature that stormed into Xilonen’s life and upended everything. There was more to her, something softer, something fragile that Xilonen hadn’t seen before.

Something that made her realise she did care too.

“I’m glad,” Xilonen managed to say, her voice soft but steady, though the undercurrent of warmth in her tone betrayed her attempt at casualness. “Because if you bring me another pair like this, I’m going to have to start charging you.”

Mavuika laughed, a genuine sound that seemed to fill the entire workshop, making the air feel lighter. The tension that had built between them dissolved like embers dying out in the forge. “Fair enough,” she replied, her shoulders easing as she leaned against the doorframe, that usual spark returning to her eyes. “But hey, you haven’t kicked me out just yet.”

Xilonen’s tail flicked behind her, the usual exasperation she felt when Mavuika showed up lingering, but now it carried a different kind of weight—something warmer. She met Mavuika’s gaze and, for a moment, found herself pausing, searching for a reason she hadn’t yet sent the Archon away. Why had she always let her linger, even when she turned up with another impossible request?

“No, I haven’t,” Xilonen admitted, the words leaving her quieter than she intended. She didn’t need to say more—both of them knew the significance of that unspoken truth. The heat from the forge cast a soft glow across Mavuika’s face, the usual fire in her golden eyes tempered by something gentler, something vulnerable.

The silence stretched between them, not awkward but thick with unspoken thoughts. Xilonen’s heartbeat a little faster, and she found herself wondering—what if she hadn’t kicked Mavuika out because she didn’t want to? What if…

Mavuika’s soft chuckle broke the tension, her hand brushing lightly against Xilonen’s arm. The touch was brief, but enough to send a jolt of warmth through her. “Well, I guess that’s something,” Mavuika said, her voice carrying a note of sincerity beneath the usual playfulness. “Thanks for not giving up on me—or the sunglasses.”

Xilonen’s heart skipped a beat, and she glanced down at the shattered lenses in her hands, suddenly acutely aware of how close Mavuika was standing. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what it would be like if the Archon stayed longer—if her visits weren’t always about broken glasses or impossible repairs. If maybe she just… stayed.

But Xilonen pushed that thought aside quickly, feeling her cheeks warm. She shook her head, refocusing on the task at hand. “Just don’t make a habit of it,” she said, her voice steadying as she moved slightly, putting a little more space between them. “I don’t have time to keep fixing your messes.”

Mavuika smiled, her expression softening in a way that made Xilonen’s chest tighten. “I’ll try to keep things in one piece,” she said, and there was something deeper in her tone, something that lingered longer than her usual banter. “Just for you.”

Xilonen blinked, her heart fluttering at the words. Just for you. She turned away, moving back to her workbench as if the act of picking up her tools could somehow ground her, pull her back from the edge of whatever it was that had shifted between them. She carefully set the broken sunglasses on the table, but her fingers trembled slightly as she did so.

“Good,” she muttered, her back still to Mavuika. She focused on the metal pieces in front of her, trying to steady herself. “Because the next pair is defintely on you.”

Mavuika’s laughter filled the space again, bright and full of warmth, and Xilonen couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Even with her back turned, she could feel Mavuika’s presence as strongly as ever—her energy, her light. There was a weight to her laughter now, something deeper that Xilonen couldn’t quite place, and it lingered even as the sound of Mavuika’s footsteps began retreating toward the door.

Xilonen kept her eyes fixed on the workbench, even as she heard the door close behind the Archon. The usual sense of relief that washed over her when Mavuika left didn’t come this time. Instead, there was a strange emptiness that settled into the silence of the workshop.

She stood there for a moment, her tools clutched in her hands, her mind still caught up in the warmth of Mavuika’s words, the light brush of her hand, the way her gaze had softened at the end. Xilonen’s tail flicked nervously behind her as she let out a slow breath.

It wasn’t frustration making her heart race this time.

—-

By her next visit, Xilonen wasn’t surprised to hear Mavuika’s voice calling out cheerfully from the workshop door. But something in her was different this time. It wasn’t just the usual frustration over another broken pair of sunglasses. This time, something deeper, something inside her , felt like it was starting to crack too.

The door creaked open, and Xilonen barely looked up from her workbench, already knowing what it was about. She had memorised the rhythm of Mavuika’s entrance by now—the familiar footsteps, the boundless energy that somehow managed to seep into the air before she even said a word.

"Xilonen!" Mavuika’s voice rang out, as bright and familiar as ever, though there was a subtle hesitancy this time, as if even she couldn’t ignore the growing pattern. "Guess what!"

Xilonen sighed, her ocelot ears twitching slightly at the sound. “Let me guess. You broke them again,” she muttered, not even bothering to lift her gaze. She’d been right every other time, after all.

The telltale sound of shuffling feet reached her ears. Mavuika stopped mid-step, her grin faltering just enough to show guilt creeping in. "Okay, yes," she admitted, pulling the sunglasses from her pouch with a guilty shrug. "But this time—"

Xilonen cut her off with a tired sigh, rubbing her temples and finally setting down the hammer she’d been working with. She stood from her bench, her tail flicking lazily behind her, eyes finally locking onto the familiar, shattered mess in Mavuika’s hands.

“Mav, this is the billionth pair I’ve made for you.” Her voice was softer now, and the weight of her words hung in the air between them.

Mavuika winced, her usual confidence ebbing away under Xilonen’s exhausted gaze. “I know, I know. But, in my defence, there was this—uh—incident involving a lava flow and—"

Xilonen cut her off with a weary shake of her head. The frustration was there, but beneath it was something heavier. She wasn’t angry, not exactly. It was more than that. She looked down at the sunglasses, the frames twisted and cracked, and something inside her deflated.

“Mav… maybe I’m not the right person for this.”

The words left her mouth before she had fully processed them, but as soon as they were out, Xilonen felt the weight of them. She wasn’t just talking about the sunglasses. The doubt, the frustration, it had been building quietly, creeping into her thoughts each time Mavuika returned with another shattered pair.

Mavuika blinked, the ever-present energy in her dimming as she processed what Xilonen had just said. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice softer, her usual cheer replaced with concern.

Xilonen let out another long sigh, running a hand through her hair as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I mean… I’ve tried everything. Reinforced the frames, used the best materials, made adjustments every time. But no matter what I do, you always come back with them broken.” She gestured toward the sunglasses in Mavuika’s hands. “It feels like… I’m just not good enough.”

Mavuika’s face fell, the broken glasses all but forgotten in her hands. She stepped forward, her voice quieter now, more sincere. “Wait…Xilo, no. That’s not true. You’re amazing.”

But Xilonen shook her head, the self-doubt that had been gnawing at her for so long finally surfacing. “I don’t feel amazing, Mav. Not when I can’t make something that lasts more than a week with you.”

Mavuika stepped closer, her usual playful energy replaced by a quiet, steady presence. She set the sunglasses down gently on the workbench, her gaze never leaving Xilonen’s. “It’s not you. It’s me. You know how I am—I’m not exactly careful. And the things I deal with? They’re not exactly… normal.”

Xilonen met her gaze, the doubt still heavy in her eyes. “But that’s my job, isn’t it? To make things that can withstand what you deal with. And I’ve failed. Every time.”

The sight of Xilonen, usually so composed and steady, looking so defeated made something twist painfully in Mavuika’s chest. She couldn’t bear seeing her like this—especially not because of something she had caused. Taking a deep breath, Mavuika reached out, her hand resting gently on Xilonen’s arm.

“Xilonen,” she said softly, her voice steady but filled with something deeper, “you haven’t failed. You keep trying. You’ve never given up on me, or these stupid sunglasses, even when I keep coming back with them in pieces.”

Xilonen’s tail flicked behind her, but she didn’t pull away from Mavuika’s touch. Her eyes dropped to the floor, her shoulders slumping as she muttered, “I dunno…”

“No.” Mavuika’s voice was firm, almost commanding, as she stepped closer, her hand tightening just slightly on Xilonen’s arm. “You’re the best in all of Natlan. You’ve made so many incredible things, even if I keep breaking mine. The problem isn’t you—it’s me, being... well, me.”

Xilonen’s eyes softened at the words, and something in her chest loosened, if only a little. The weight of her self-doubt still lingered, but now there was something else there too—Mavuika’s sincerity, her unwavering belief in her. And it wasn’t just about the sunglasses anymore.

“You’ve never given up on me,” Mavuika continued, her voice dropping to a whisper now. “And that’s why I keep coming back. Not just because of the sunglasses, but because of you.”

Xilonen’s breath caught in her throat at that, her tail curling behind her in nervous flicks. She could feel the warmth of Mavuika’s hand on her arm, could see the honesty in her golden-red eyes, and suddenly, the distance between them felt unbearably small.

“Mav,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, “you don’t have to say all that.”

Mavuika smiled, but it was softer this time, and there was a vulnerability in her expression that Xilonen hadn’t seen before. “Yeah, I do. Because it’s true.”

Xilonen blinked, her chest tightening—not with the weight of her self-doubt this time, but with something warmer, something that made her heart race in a way she wasn’t ready to admit.

For a moment, they stood there, the forge’s heat a mere backdrop to the quiet, shared warmth between them. Mavuika hesitated, her hand still on Xilonen’s arm, her gaze flickering with an emotion that felt... deeper.

“Okay, so… maybe,” Mavuika said slowly, breaking the silence with a nervous laugh, “maybe I could’ve been a little more careful. You know, with the sunglasses.”

Xilonen arched an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite herself. “A little?”

Mavuika winced, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. “Okay, a lot more. I mean, I didn’t have to roll down that hill, and maybe the whole volcano incident was... avoidable.”

Xilonen’s eyes narrowed, her tail flicking as she picked up on the subtle shift in Mavuika’s tone. “You mean to tell me that all these disasters weren’t just accidents?”

Mavuika hesitated, her usual bravado flickering like a flame in a strong wind. She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, glancing away as her hand rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. Her boldness faltered, replaced by something far more uncertain. Xilonen could see the flush deepening on her cheeks, could feel the energy shift in the room, the playful edge they usually sparred with slipping away.

“Well… I guess I just kinda…” Mavuika trailed off, her eyes darting up to meet Xilonen’s before looking away again, as though she couldn’t quite bring herself to say what she was thinking. There was a long, heavy pause, the hum of the forge the only sound filling the silence. Finally, with a sigh, Mavuika blurted out, “I enjoyed coming here. Seeing you.”

Xilonen blinked, her ears twitching in surprise. Of all the things she had expected Mavuika to say, that wasn’t one of them. “You… what?”

Mavuika gave her a small, nervous smile, her usual confidence all but gone now. “I mean, I know I drive you crazy with all this,” she laughed awkwardly, “but I guess I just liked having a reason to come back here. Even if it meant breaking something every time.”

Xilonen felt her heart skip a beat. Her tail flicked, curling slightly as the weight of Mavuika’s words settled into her chest, warming something she hadn’t realised was there. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the broken sunglasses in her hand as she processed the confession. So it wasn’t just about the sunglasses after all.

The realisation stirred something deep inside her—a feeling she wasn’t sure she was ready to name, but one that had been slowly growing with every visit, every exasperated exchange, every grin Mavuika had flashed her when she came through that workshop door. The exasperation, the frustration—it had always been there, but so had something else. Something softer. Something warmer.

“So,” Xilonen said slowly, her voice low and careful, “you’ve been breaking these sunglasses… just so you’d have an excuse to come back?”

Mavuika winced, her cheeks reddening further as she nodded. “Yeah… I didn’t plan on breaking them every time, but I wasn’t exactly trying not to.” Her golden-red eyes flickered with an honesty Xilonen hadn’t seen before, and her voice softened. “I like being around you.”

The words hit Xilonen harder than she expected. Her tail stilled, her breath catching in her throat as the reality of it sank in. Mavuika—chaotic, reckless, loud, and full of endless energy—had been doing all of this just to spend time with her. The broken sunglasses, the wild stories, the excuses—they were all just ways to stay close. And now, hearing Mavuika admit it out loud, something shifted in Xilonen’s heart.

For so long, she’d hidden behind her frustration, her irritation, using it as a shield to protect herself from whatever strange pull she felt toward the Pyro Archon. She hadn’t allowed herself to think too deeply about it, always brushing it off as annoyance. But now… now she wasn’t so sure. Her feelings toward Mavuika weren’t as simple as she had pretended they were.

Xilonen glanced down at the shattered sunglasses in her hands, her fingers tracing the fractured lines in the lenses. Mavuika had brought her nothing but chaos—broken frames, endless repairs, and far too many interruptions to her work. Yet… Xilonen realised with a sudden, startling clarity that she didn’t mind. That somehow, she’d grown to expect these visits, to look forward to them, even. And maybe… maybe she’d even grown to care about the person behind all the chaos.

Xilonen couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped her, shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. Mavuika’s unapologetic charm was infuriatingly disarming. “You’re unbelievable,” she said, but her tone lacked the sharpness it usually carried.

Mavuika grinned, her golden-red eyes sparkling with that same mischief as always, but now there was something deeper behind it, something warmer that Xilonen hadn’t quite noticed before. “What can I say? I like your company.”

That casual admission—simple, almost offhand—made something tighten in Xilonen’s chest. She felt the corners of her mouth twitch, despite herself, and before she could stop it, she was smiling.

“You could’ve just asked to visit, you know,” Xilonen said, her voice lighter than she intended, but soft with a newfound ease. “You didn’t have to break something every time .”

Mavuika blinked, clearly caught off guard by Xilonen’s words. “Oh… yeah, I guess I could’ve, huh?” Her voice was quieter now, the realisation of how unnecessary her antics had been settling in.

Xilonen chuckled, her ocelot tail flicking gently behind her, the motion slow and relaxed. “Yeah. You could’ve.”

For a moment, they stood there in the soft glow of the forge, the space between them feeling lighter than it had ever been. The usual tension that hung over their exchanges—the frustration, the annoyance—seemed to melt away, replaced by something far more comfortable, far more… meaningful. Xilonen no longer felt the weight of her doubts pressing down on her, and instead, something lighter filled the space where that heaviness used to be.

The silence that followed wasn’t the awkward kind. It was the kind that didn’t need to be filled, where just standing there, being together, was enough. Xilonen found herself glancing at Mavuika, and for the first time, she saw the Pyro Archon not as a chaotic force of nature that constantly disrupted her work, but as someone who had come to mean… something else. Something more.

“Next time,” Xilonen said softly, her voice carrying a gentle sincerity that surprised even her, “just come by. Even if you don’t break anything.”

Mavuika’s eyes lit up, the brightness in them returning, but this time, there was something softer in her gaze. Her grin widened, but it wasn’t the usual mischievous smirk. It was something more genuine, more vulnerable. “Really?”

Xilonen nodded, her smile widening just a little, though the gesture felt far more significant than she let on. “Really.”

For the first time in a long time, Xilonen felt at ease in Mavuika’s presence. Not because there was something to fix, or something to be annoyed about, but because… she wanted Mavuika here. And somehow, that realisation didn’t scare her the way she thought it might. Instead, it warmed her in a way that felt like the beginning of something new—something unspoken, but quietly understood between them.

Mavuika beamed at her, the tension that had hovered between them for so long dissolving into the warmth of shared understanding. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said, her voice teasing but soft.

Xilonen’s tail flicked lazily behind her, her heart still racing a little, but this time, it wasn’t from frustration. “I’m sure you will.”

For a moment, they stood in that shared quiet, the air between them feeling lighter, less burdened. But, true to form, Mavuika’s playful grin slowly crept back onto her face. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with the same mischief that always seemed to follow her.

“Soo…” Mavuika drawled, drawing the word out with an innocent shrug. “You’ll still fix them, right?”

Xilonen let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head but without the exasperation that had marked all their earlier exchanges. This time, there was no frustration, no lingering doubt about her craftsmanship or her ability. She knew what she was capable of—and more than that, she knew why she kept fixing these sunglasses, no matter how many times they were broken.

“Yes, Mav,” Xilonen said, her voice steady and confident, without a hint of hesitation. “Of course I will.”

Mavuika’s grin softened into something warmer, and for the first time, Xilonen felt none of the weight she used to carry. There was only the quiet certainty that she was more than capable—and that Mavuika, more than anyone else, had always known that too.

—

This time, when the Pyro Archon stepped into Xilonen’s workshop, something felt different. The usual crackling energy Mavuika carried with her was subdued, and in her hands—no, on her face—the sunglasses were still intact. Xilonen had almost gotten used to the routine: Mavuika barging in, grinning, holding out another pair of shattered lenses like a child handing over a broken toy. But not today. Today, Mavuika hadn’t come for a repair.

She had come for something more.

Golden light spilled through the workshop’s high windows, casting long, warm beams that danced along the scattered tools and the worn wooden floor. It was late afternoon, and in one of those sun-dappled spots, Xilonen lay on a low bench, deep in the kind of sleep only hard work can bring. Her ocelot tail curled lazily around her, twitching in the soft embrace of a dream. For once, the ever-busy forge was quiet, save for the distant crackling of a few leftover embers. There were no urgent knocks, no calls about the Archon seeking her out.

Just the gentle lull of peace.

Until the door creaked open.

Mavuika stepped in, her usual boisterous entrance muted as she hesitated just inside the doorway. She froze, her eyes immediately landing on Xilonen, who was fast asleep under the sun’s tender glow. For once, Mavuika didn’t want to disturb her. Xilonen looked so... different when she was resting, her ever-alert ears relaxed, her face softer, free from the usual tension that accompanied her work. Mavuika watched the slow rise and fall of Xilonen’s chest, the way her tail flicked now and then, the soft fur catching the light.

Mavuika smiled, a rare kind of smile—gentler, warmer. She stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The blacksmith always seemed so sturdy, so unshakable, always moving, always working. To see her like this, resting, vulnerable, bathed in sunlight—it stirred something in Mavuika, something that made her chest feel lighter. Maybe she should let her sleep a little longer, just this once.

But Mavuika was Mavuika. Patience was never her strong suit.

“Xilonen!” she called, her voice full of its usual exuberance, though softer than usual.

The effect was instant. Xilonen jolted awake, her ocelot ears perking straight up, her tail fluffing out as her instincts kicked in. Her heart pounded as she blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her surroundings, the remnants of her dream evaporating in the golden haze. For a split second, she looked around wildly, eyes sharp, ready for action.

Then her gaze landed on Mavuika, who stood there grinning like always, the sunglasses perched neatly on her face. Xilonen’s body relaxed almost immediately, though her heart still raced.

“Oh,” she muttered, exhaling a long sigh as she rubbed her eyes. “It’s just you.”

Mavuika giggled, the sound like a warm breeze breaking the tension in the room. “Sorry! You looked so peaceful, I almost didn’t want to wake you.” She rocked on her heels, her expression full of amusement.

Xilonen blinked a few more times, clearing the remnants of sleep from her mind as she sat up, stretching her arms. “You scared the life out of me, Mav,” she said, though there was no real annoyance in her voice. Just a quiet, tired sort of amusement.

Mavuika’s grin softened, and she took a step closer, her movements unusually calm. “You needed the rest. You’ve been working nonstop.”

Xilonen looked at her, a question forming in her mind. Mavuika hadn’t been this gentle before, and it caught her off guard. She glanced at the sunglasses, expecting to see the usual cracked lenses or twisted frames. She straightened in her seat, already preparing herself for the routine she knew all too well. “So, what happened this time?” she asked, still groggy, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “Did you break them again?”

Mavuika’s grin shifted, becoming more genuine. “No,” she said softly, stepping closer again. “Not this time.”

Xilonen’s brow furrowed, her confusion deepening. She studied Mavuika’s face carefully, her eyes flicking up to the sunglasses perched neatly on her nose. They were pristine. Not a single scratch. The frames gleamed in the sunlight, whole and untouched.

“They’re… in one piece?” Xilonen mumbled, her mind struggling to catch up. “You didn’t break them?”

Mavuika beamed, her chest swelling with pride, though there was a tenderness in her expression that hadn’t been there before. “I didn’t. I took care of them. Just like you said.”

Those words hit Xilonen harder than she expected. Mavuika had actually listened. It wasn’t just that the sunglasses were intact; it was the fact that Mavuika had made an effort, had cared enough to remember what she’d said. Xilonen stared at her, the realisation settling slowly but deeply in her chest. The warmth she usually felt from the forge was nothing compared to what bloomed inside her now, spreading through her like a quiet flame.

She had never doubted her craftsmanship, but this? This was different. This was Mavuika, listening, showing she cared in the most Mavuika way possible. Xilonen swallowed, her throat suddenly tight, her heart beating just a little faster than before.

Mavuika’s gaze didn’t waver. She was looking at Xilonen with a softness, a sincerity that made the blacksmith’s chest feel tight and full at the same time. Xilonen realised how close they were standing now, the space between them small, yet charged with something unspoken. Something that had been growing with every visit.

For once, Xilonen didn’t feel exasperated by Mavuika’s presence. There was no lingering doubt, no frustration at another pair of broken glasses. Instead, there was this warmth, this quiet, shared understanding that neither of them had spoken about before.

“You actually…” Xilonen trailed off, her voice unexpectedly soft, almost tender. “You listened.”

Mavuika nodded, her usual playful energy replaced by a quiet sincerity as she stepped closer, standing right in front of Xilonen. “I wanted to show you I could be responsible. That I could… you know, be better. Annddd I came to visit, with nothing broken!”

Xilonen’s chest tightened at the sound of Mavuika’s voice, so raw with honesty. It was rare to see the Pyro Archon like this—vulnerable, her guard down, as if she were trying to prove something important. And not just to the world, but to Xilonen specifically. That realisation made Xilonen’s heart stir in a way she wasn’t entirely prepared for.

Mavuika’s smile faltered slightly, her gaze dropping to the floor before lifting again to meet Xilonen’s. “You’re always so patient with me, always fixing everything, even when I keep messing up.” Her voice softened, barely above a whisper, carrying with it an almost shy undertone. “I didn’t want you to feel like I was taking that for granted.”

Xilonen’s breath hitched, her heart picking up pace as Mavuika’s words hung between them. It was rare for Mavuika to be so earnest, so exposed, and Xilonen could feel the weight of it. There was no teasing this time, no playful banter to hide behind—just Mavuika, standing there, asking for more than just a repair. She was asking for trust, for understanding, for… something else.

The silence stretched, the air between them thick with emotions neither of them had quite named yet. Xilonen could hear the forge’s embers crackling faintly in the background, but it was Mavuika’s presence that filled the room, making it feel smaller, more intimate. Xilonen felt herself leaning into that warmth, even if she wasn’t ready to fully acknowledge what it meant.

Then, Mavuika’s lips quirked into a grin, trying to break the tension, her voice turning playful again. “So… does that mean I get a reward?”

Xilonen blinked, momentarily startled by the shift in tone. “A reward?”

Mavuika’s grin grew, though there was still a touch of nervousness behind it. “Yeah. You know, for not breaking the sunglasses this time.”

Xilonen couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head as she crossed her arms, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her neck. “Alright, fine,” she said, playing along. “Next time you break them, I’ll only charge you half-price.”

Mavuika gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest in mock outrage. “Half-price? That’s barely a reward at all!”

Xilonen smirked, leaning back against the workbench, her eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

Mavuika let out a playful huff, but the smile on her face didn’t fade. Instead, she stepped even closer, the space between them shrinking until Xilonen could feel the warmth radiating from her. “You drive a hard bargain, Xilonen.”

Xilonen’s smirk softened, her gaze lingering on Mavuika’s face. The light in her golden-red eyes, the way her grin never quite left her lips, even when she was serious—it was all starting to feel a little too familiar, a little too close. And yet, Xilonen didn’t step away. Instead, she found herself meeting Mavuika’s gaze with a warmth of her own.

“Maybe…” Xilonen said, her voice lowering just a touch, her teasing softened by the undercurrent of something deeper.

Mavuika swallowed hard, her breath catching as Xilonen’s fingers brushed the edge of her sunglasses. There was a quiet intimacy in the movement, Xilonen’s touch deliberate, yet light, her fingers grazing Mavuika’s temple as she slid the glasses from her face. The warmth of Xilonen’s skin lingered there, a stark contrast to the cool air that filled the space between them.

With a soft flick of her wrist, Xilonen tossed the sunglasses over her shoulder, the clatter of metal on the workbench barely registering in the sudden, charged silence between them.

“Hey!” Mavuika protested, her laugh breaking the tension but only for a second. “I just said I’d take care of those!”

But Xilonen’s smile deepened, soft but knowing, as her thumb brushed along Mavuika’s cheek. “We’ll fix them later,” she murmured, her voice warm, teasing, like she knew this moment was bigger than a pair of broken glasses.

Mavuika’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening at the touch. She’d faced down volcanoes, battled fierce enemies, but this—Xilonen, so close, her presence so steady—it was more overwhelming than anything she’d ever faced before. Her hands hovered uncertainty near Xilonen’s waist, fingers trembling, unsure if she should close the distance or pull back. But the magnetism between them left her no choice.

“Mav,” Xilonen whispered, her voice a gentle murmur, the words carrying a weight they both felt. Her green eyes locked onto Mavuika’s, their usual sharpness softened with an unspoken emotion. “You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

Mavuika’s throat tightened, a lump forming as the vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to feel bubbled to the surface. Her gaze flicked between Xilonen’s lips and her eyes, searching for something—reassurance, understanding, maybe permission to let go of the act. “I just didn’t want you to think I didn’t care,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

“I know you care,” Xilonen replied, her words as soft as her touch. “I’ve known for a while.”

It wasn’t just what she said, but how she said it—so certain, so gentle. For Xilonen, there had never been any doubt. Every time Mavuika had burst through the door, her sunglasses broken, her stories ridiculous, Xilonen had known. It had been there all along, in every teasing comment, in every rushed repair—Mavuika’s way of reaching out, of making herself known, of wanting to be close. But this? This was something deeper, more real than Xilonen had expected.

Before Mavuika could find a response, Xilonen leaned in, her lips brushing against Mavuika’s in the softest, most tentative kiss. It wasn’t rushed or full of bravado; it was delicate, testing the waters of a space neither of them had dared to step into until now. The kiss was slow, full of everything they had left unsaid.

Mavuika’s hands, shaky at first, found their way to Xilonen’s waist, pulling her closer as she responded, her usual confidence slipping back into place, but this time, it wasn’t about show. This was different. This was real.

Xilonen’s tail flicked lazily behind her, the tension in her shoulders melting as the warmth of Mavuika’s body pressed against hers. The world outside the workshop seemed to blur and fade, leaving only the steady rhythm of their hearts filling the quiet. Xilonen had always been good at focusing—on her work, on her craft, on the fire of the forge. But right now, Mavuika was her only focus, her touch, her warmth, the way their lips fit together like this was something they’d both been waiting for, without knowing it.

When they finally pulled apart, Mavuika was breathless, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. She looked at Xilonen, her usual grin starting to creep back into place, brighter than before, a little bit bolder.

“So… do I still get half-off next time I break them?” Mavuika asked, her voice light but the sincerity still lingering in her eyes.

Xilonen scoffed softly, the sound like a release of all the tension that had been building between them for so long. Her fingers traced the line of Mavuika’s jaw, lingering just a moment longer. “We’ll see.”

Mavuika’s grin widened, her hands tightening slightly at Xilonen’s waist, holding her there, not wanting to let the moment slip away. “I can work with that.”

And then, as naturally as the sun slipping below the horizon, Xilonen leaned in again. This time, the kiss wasn’t tentative or hesitant. It was steady, certain. There were no more questions, no playful interruptions—just the quiet hum of the forge and the warmth of their bodies. The world outside didn’t matter, not right now.

Xilonen’s thoughts, which so often ran wild with doubts, with worries about whether she was enough, whether she could craft something indestructible for Mavuika, fell quiet. In this moment, she knew. She was enough. This wasn’t about proving anything. It never had been.

They stood there, wrapped up in each other. Two hearts finally finding a place to settle, forged in more than just a fire.