Work Text:
There had been some errors with production at the Sub-AIC in Yinglung Pass, which had been detected far too late, leading to a complete rebuild of the production line responsible for Pyrrolite parts.
It had become a logistic nightmare almost overnight.
Every altered production line affected another.
Every delayed shipment meant another department waiting on resources that would no longer arrive on time.
Every gas pipeline had to be recalculated and rerouted across the cliffs and chasms in the Northern Exclusion Zone.
Ore extraction quotas had to be recalculated, transportation routes adjusted, processing facilities reallocated, pipelines redone. Entire spreadsheets of logistics were rewritten, only to be discarded again an hour later when another discrepancy surfaced.
The Endministrator had spent nearly three consecutive days between the Dijiang and Yinglung Pass.
Meetings. Factory floors mapping. Inspection reports. Emergency conferences. Back to the factory. Then back again.
By the time the problem had finally been isolated - a seemingly insignificant calibration error buried deep within an automated assembly sequence - hundreds of completed Pyrrolite components had already failed inspection.
The losses weren’t catastrophic in itself.
But the timing… The timing could not have been worse.
Restoration throughout the Northern Exclusion Zone had reached its final stages. New settlements, relay stations and transport infrastructure all depended upon a constant supply of materials flowing from Yinglung Pass.
A delay now would ripple through dozens of ongoing projects.
It was exactly the kind of failure Endfield Industries simply could not afford. The kind of failure that occurred quietly and was taken care off overnight, without it bringing disturbance to what Endfield promised.
And so the responsibility, as always, settled squarely upon the Endministrator’s shoulders.
The Dijiang greeted him with familiar silence.
The kind that only existed after midnight, when the majority of operators had long since retired and only night shifts continued their work beneath dimmed corridor lights. The vessel never truly slept - not while it carried the hopes of an entire civilisation - but during those hours, it breathed differently. Quieter, slower. Machinery hummed beyond the walls, ventilation systems whispered overheard barely audible, and the distant rhythm of footsteps echoed only every now and then, before fading once more into stillness.
His boots echoed softly against the metal flooring.
He barely noticed where he was going, his shoulders aching with a deep fatigue that settled into muscles after days without proper rest.
The bridge of his nose hurt from having worn a protective medical mask almost without interruption for the better part of two days, safety regulations when working in the Exclusion Zone, due to the gas and dust whirling around the air.
Even the act of undoing the fastening beneath one ear as he walked toward his office felt strangely exhausting. His fingers seemed clumsier than usual, as though they, too, had reached the limit of their patience.
He looked tired.
Not merely physically, but mentally too.
The sort of exhaustion that settled somewhere behind the eyes and refused to leave. The sort that dulled thoughts without ever quieting them, replacing clarity with an endless background noise of unfinished work, pending decisions and problems that refused to remain solved for very long. Which, in turn, only created more stress, really.
Outside his office stood the usual pair of guards.
Even after Ardashir’s relocation, security around the Endministrator’s office had never relaxed. If anything, it had become stricter. The two operators straightened immediately upon seeing him approach.
They saluted. “Endministrator.”
He acknowledged them with a nod, barely slowing his pace. “Anything unusual?”
“No, sir.”
His gaze lingered on them for only a heartbeat, before he let out a quiet breath.
“... Good.”
The door slid open, warm light spilled into the hallway.
Unlike the dim corridors outside, someone had left the office lamps glowing a soft yellow that chased away the harshness of the ship’s colder colored walls. It painted long shadows across the floor and gave the room an almost lived-in warmth, a welcome sight, after spending so much time down between fissures and cliffs.
The scent of fresh tea lingered faintly in the room.
Ardashir looked up as he heard the sounds.
He had occupied the smaller desk next to the Endministrator’s own, several stacks of reports arranged with almost obsessive precision around him. Not a single sheet sat out of alignment. Pens had been returned to exactly where they belonged. Even the annotated documents seemed to follow an order only Ardashir fully understood, his workspace meticulously organised at all times.
Fiona sat nearby with two engineers from the Engineering Division, the four of them quietly reviewing newly entered Aether data destined for the Civilisation Band archives, collected in the midst of the logistic nightmare the Endministrator had spent days untangling on Talos-II.
Their quiet discussion stopped almost immediately.
“My Lord.” Ardashir rose the instant his silver-blue eyes settled upon the raven-haired man. Always proper and insistent on etiquette.
The Endministrator merely hummed in greeting as he set another bundle of reports onto his desk with considerably less grace than usual, the papers nearly falling over. “... Please tell me something exploded.”
Fiona blinked in confusion. “... Endmin?”
“If something exploded,” the Endministrator sighed as he pulled off his protective gloves one finger at a time, dropping them carelessly on the desk as well. “... it would at least justify the last seventy-two hours.”
One of the engineers snorted, the sound escaping before he could stop himself. Judging by the way he immediately lowered his head toward his tablet, he regretted it almost instantly.
“It didn’t…” Fiona admitted carefully.
“Pity.” Endmin’s voice remained flat, laced with dry humor born solely from exhaustion.
Ardashir watched him quietly.
His gaze lingered as the Endministrator reached up once more. First came off the medical mask. Then, after only a moment’s hesitation… his carbon fiber mask. The room grew just a little quieter.
Nobody commented on it, they didn’t need to.
The Endministrator rarely removed it in front of others, during working hours and off the clock. The simple act spoke volumes about how utterly drained he was. Dark circles rested beneath gray-blue eyes, dust streaked one sleeve of his usually immaculate uniform. Even his hair - normally messy in an intentional sort of way - had begun surrendering to several days spent beneath helmets, masks and dusty air.
“... The production line?”, Fiona finally asked, sensing that now might be the best opportunity to remove at least one topic from the Endministrator’s ever-growing list of responsibilities.
The Endministrator remained standing, back straight, composed, even now, albeit a bit tired, as he responded. “Recoverable.”
“The recalculations?”
“Finished.”
“Reconstruction?”
“Back on schedule.”
Each answer grew shorter, words slower, like every additional syllable required deliberate effort.
Absentmindedly, he reached for the cup of tea waiting upon his desk.
Cold.
He stared at it as if it had personally offended him. “... I forgot to drink it.”
Fiona looked a little guilty. “... I made that almost three hours ago for you, Endmin….”
“... I know.”
Silence.
The Endministrator remained standing beside the desk for another few moments, seemingly forgetting why. The rest of the occupants in the room didn’t dare move nor interrupt the brief moment of silence the man finally had, not with how exhausted he looked. Even the engineers were quiet, exchanging glances.
Gray-blue eyes lingered on nothing in particular. Not even thinking, simply… existing.
Ardashir had seen this behaviour before, far too many times. Centuries ago, yet it reminded him all the same.
After impossible decisions.
After sleepless nights.
After carrying burdens no single person should ever bear upon their shoulders.
The Endministrator had always done the same thing - he continued moving until someone reminded him he could stop, continued working himself into the ground, until every crisis had been resolved, every variable accounted for, every life secured.
Only then, when someone else quietly placed a hand upon his shoulder, would he finally allow himself to remember he was human.
Fiona slowly gathered her papers. “... I think we’ve finished for today.”
The two engineers exchanged glances before immediately agreeing. “Right.” “We’ll continue tomorrow.”
The Endministrator looked up, a little confused. “... Already?”
“It is well past midnight.”
“... Is it?”
Nobody answered. Which, in reality, was answer enough, really.
Within another minute, the office had emptied, the doors slid shut behind the last departing person, only silence remaining in the dim office space. Silence reclaimed the space once more, only the soft hum of the Dijiang’s engines remained.
The Endministrator let out a long breath. “I don’t think I’ve sat down all day.”
“You have not.”, Ardashir spoke, then. The first time he had spoken, apart from the greeting towards the other man, when he had entered.
“... You noticed.”
“I always notice.”
The raven-haired man chuckled weakly. “I suppose you do.”
He reached for another report, almost on instinct, standing next to his desk. Before his fingers touched the paper, Ardashir’s voice interrupted him.
“My Lord.”
Gray-blue eyes focused on the Phidia, blinking.
Without another word, the white-haired man crossed the office. There was no hesitation in his movements, no uncertainty, only the quiet confidence of someone repeating an action that had once been second nature countless times before.
He stopped directly before the Endministrator, much to the latter's confusion.
“... Ardashir?”
The white-haired man opened his arms. Just enough, a silent invitation.
The Endministrator looked at him for a long second, the soft look in Ardashir’s eyes, free of judgement and pretense, just care and worry. Only quiet affection that asked for nothing in return. With a tired sigh that sounded suspiciously close to relief, he stepped forward.
Ardashir wrapped his arms around him, carefully, never tightly. Just enough to remind him he no longer needed to remain standing on sheer determination alone, that he had someone waiting for him to help carry that weight.
One gloved hand rested gently between the tired man’s shoulder blades, the other settled lightly against the middle of his back.
“... You’ve been standing for far too long.” Ardashir spoke, voice quiet, almost like a murmur. Soft enough that it seemed meant only for the man resting quietly against him.
The Endministrator allowed his forehead to come to rest against the Phidia’s shoulder.. “... Yeah.”
“You have forgotten to breathe properly as well, holding your breath every few moments as though you expect another disaster.”
“... Hm.”
Neither spoke after that.
The office remained perfectly still around them, only the distant vibration of the Dijiang’s engines drifted through the walls, accompanied by the occasional whisper of circulating air.
The Endministrator hadn’t realised quite how exhausted he truly was until that moment. Though he didn’t cling to the man, didn’t collapse, but rather simply allowed himself to be held, the tension and exhaustion slowly bleeding from him in waves, as his breathing became steadier, deeper.
His shoulders finally lowered a little, muscles that had remained taut for days relaxed one after another in Ardashir’s gentle embrace. For the first time in seventy-two hours, he stopped carrying the weight of civilization.
Only for a minute.
The sound of the office door opening shattered the silence.
“Endmin, I need your signature on-” Chen stopped dead in her tracks, Her eyes widened.
For exactly one second, nobody moved.
Then instinct took over.
The sound of steel brandished rang through the office, Chen’s sword left its sheath in a blur. “Ardashir!”
The guards outside the door reacted almost simultaneously. Said door was slammed fully open, weapons were drawn, four rifles leveled immediately toward the Phidia. “Step away!”
Ardashir released the Endministrator at once and took one measured step backward. Both hands rose calmly into the air, clear into view. “My apologies.” His voice came out calm, not hurried or panicked. “I appear to have caused unnecessary concern.”
“Endmin!” Chen moved between them almost instantly, sword still raised, as she worriedly looked him over. “Are you injured?”
The Endministrator blinked. For the briefest moment, he understood toddlers. Understood, on a deeply spiritual level, why they occasionally screamed into pillows or threw toys across rooms. He, too, felt an overwhelming desire to throw something. But instead, he sighed heavily. “... No.”
“What did he do?”
Ardashir spoke next. “I embraced my Lord.”
Chen glanced at the Phidia, then back to the Endministrator. “He attacked you?”
“... No.”
“But he grabbed you?”
“... Yes?”
Chen looked ready to lunge anyway, the guards in the doorway tightening formation, rifles still drawn.
Ardashir remained exactly where he stood, looking entirely unbothered and unconcerned with four rifles and a sword aimed directly at him. “I had permission.”
“No way you did.”, one guard snapped.
Chen nodded sharply. “There’s no way he-”
The Endministrator’s quiet voice cut clean through the room. “I hugged him.”
Silence followed.
“... What?” Chen choked out, the sound something between a dying whale and a dog that swallowed a squeaky toy.
The guards stared.
Even Ardashir looked mildly surprised at the man’s words.
“I hugged him.”, the Endmin repeated.”
“... You…” Chen lowered her sword slightly. “... You what?”
The Endmin rubbed his forehead once, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ah, he could feel a headache slowly making its way into his skull. “I was the one who initiated physical contact.”
“... You…” Chen made a strangled noise somewhat between disbelief and shock, sounding entirely less dignified than the first one, somehow. “... You hugged him?”
The Endministrator continued to tiredly rub at one eye. “Yes.”
“... Voluntarily?”
“... Chen.”
“Voluntarily?”, she repeated.
“... Yes.”
One of the younger guards quietly looked toward his partner, leaning in for a whisper. “... Did… did the Endministrator just…” The other one leaned close as well. “... I believe he did.” A third one huddled closer as well. “Should we…” Guard number four pressed his head into the small circle. “I genuinely have no idea.”
Chen pointed accusingly between the two men. “Since when is this a thing?!”
The Endministrator opened his mouth. Closed it again. He… actually had no answer to that.
“... A few weeks.” Ardashir supplied.
Chen’s head whipped around so quickly, it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash. “You don’t answer my questions!”
“My apologies.”
“You apologising makes this worse!”
“I have been informed of that before.”
Chen gave him a rather dead-pan stare. “It absolutely does not surprise me!”
Despite everything, the Endministrator couldn’t stop the laugh escaping him. It was a short, tired sound.
The entire room fell silent again.
Chen then looked at him. Really looked at him. She saw the exhaustion clear on his face, the smile that hadn’t been there when he passed her on the Bridge before after he returned. She noted the way his shoulders had finally relaxed. Her expression softened, if only slightly. “... You look less dead.”
“... Thank… you?”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I… knew that.”
She signed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose at the situation. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t walk into… whatever this was.”
“It was a hug.” Ardashir supplied helpfully. That infuriatingly composed little smile had returned.
“I know what it was!” Chen almost barked out.
“Then we appear to understand one another.”
She closed her eyes, counted silently to five, reciting the Hongshan swordmancy manual in her head as to avoid throwing her sword.
Then, she pointed her finger directly at the Phidia. “... You.”
Ardashir simply raised one eyebrow. “... Yes?”
“If you ever do that without Endmin’s permission…”, she began.
“I shall not.”, the white-haired man interrupted her.
“Or manipulate him-”, she was interrupted once more.
“I shall not do that as well.”, Ardashir interjected.
Every answer came immediately, without hesitation, without offense and without any form of the usual tease in his voice.
Chen stared at him for several long seconds. She finally understood why everyone aboard the Dijiang found him so profoundly unsettling. When it came to the Endministrator, the immortal who had once terrified entire nations behaved with the earnest obedience of a very-well trained dog.. “... You’re infuriating.”
“I have also been informed of that before.”
This time, even one of the guards failed to suppress a laugh. It escaped as a snort, before he straightened immediately, clearing his throat and pretending nothing had happened.
The tension finally broke.
“Right. I’ll just…” Chen seemed to remember why she had entered in the first place. She produced an envelope, dropped it onto the Endministrator’s desk with perhaps slightly more force than necessary, gave both men one final suspicious squint, then turned on her heel and left.
The guards, probably underpaid to handle such situations, looked around themselves, before following suit, returning to their stations outside the office door. The office settled back into silence, as the door closed behind them.
Though, this one carried the lingering awkwardness of what had just transpired - the echoes of raised voices, drawn weapons, and Chen’s thoroughly exhausted disbelief still hanging faintly in the air. It was a stark reminder of their situation, even with their past.
For several moments, neither of them dared to break the silence.
The Endministrator picked up the envelope Chen had abandoned on his desk, thumbed idly through its contents without actually reading a single page, then let it fall shut again with a tired sigh. A problem for tomorrow. “... I should probably apologise to her later.”
Ardashir stood where he’d remained after the guards departed, one hand folded neatly behind his back once again, the other loosely at his side. “I suspect Lady Chen has endured worse.”
“I… somehow doubt that.”
“Optimism, my Lord.”
That earned another quiet laugh, small and weary in sound. But it was a laugh nonetheless. The Endministrator leaned both palms against the edge of his desk, lowering his head for a moment. “... That was embarrassing.”
“I found it rather heartwarming.”, Ardashir hummed.
“I knew you would.”
“I take no shame in admitting it.”
“... Of course you don’t.”
Their friendly bickering slowly faded out.
The Endmin stared absentmindedly across the office, into the general direction of the weapon displays behind the screen projector. “... Thank you.”
Ardashir looked back at him. “My Lord?”
“... For earlier.” The Endministrator remained facing seemingly no point specifically, rather than the Phidia. “I think…”, he searched for the right words. “... I think I needed that more than I realised.”
Ardashir’s expression softened, fond and satisfied all at once. “There is nothing to thank me for.”
“There is.” The Endministrator turned slightly as he spoke. “You’ve never once made me feel guilty for… not remembering. You’ve never tried to force anything.” His voice had become noticeably quieter as he spoke, carrying the weight of his thoughts. “Never… expected anything. You just keep showing up, knowing what I need.”
The Phidia held his gaze. “I made you a promise and I intend to honor it, even if you may not remember.”
“I know.”
This time, the silence between them was comfortable - the kind that required neither explanation nor conversation to follow up on words spoken before.
Ardashir watched the raven-haired man for another few seconds. The exhaustion he had carried hadn’t disappeared - it never could after only a single embrace - but it had lessened. His shoulders no longer sat quite so high, his breathing remained even. Some of the tension had finally left his face as well, judging by the tired smile.
The white-haired man had already crossed the small distance between them again, before he had consciously decided to do so. “My Lord.”
The Endmin glanced toward him. “Hm?”
“I fear… I am about to be rather selfish.” Ardashir smiled almost sheepishly, though there was no apology in his words, in his smile.
Gray-blue eyes blinked once at the words. “What do you mea-”
He never finished the sentence.
Ardashir’s hands settled gently against his upper arms, softly, reverent. Not restraining nor pulling - asking, waiting.
The Endministrator looked into those silver-blue eyes that had become so familiar to him over the past weeks for only a heartbeat, before he understood the unspoken question. His answer came just as quietly - a single nod.
The Phidia drew him forward once more.
This embrace was somehow even gentler than the first. Just as careful and measured, as though Ardashir remained acutely aware that he held someone precious who no longer remembered ever belonging in his arms, yet wanted to give the same comfort all the same.
The Endministrator, in turn, didn’t hesitate this time. He exhaled softly as he settled into the embrace, one hand lightly catching against the fabric of Ardashir’s blazer near his side, a gentle hold, grounding.
“... There you are.” Ardashir murmured almost inaudibly, the words spoken more to himself than anyone else.
The Endministrator closed his eyes. “... Mn.” Something heavy and warm settled in his chest, tugging at the burden he carried, slowly unravelling the weight of it and the man that carried it all at the same time.
For a long while, neither of them moved. Simply staying in that embrace, softly holding onto one another.
It felt… Peaceful.
A feeling the Endministrator had almost forgotten existed.
Ardashir looked down. The raven-haired man’s forehead rested lightly against his shoulder again. His breathing had slowed, his entire posture had softened. At seeing the Endministrator stop carrying the weight of the world for just these few moments, something inside Ardashir gave way.
He had spent centuries denying himself impulses that once came as naturally as breathing. Countless times he’d reminded himself that the man before him remembered nothing. That every gesture had to belong to this Endministrator - not the one who had been his before, not the one he’d promised himself never to chase.
He knew that.
He truly did.
Yet… Looking down at the man quietly resting against him, the temptation became almost unbearable.
Slowly - so slowly it was almost imperceptible - Ardashir lowered his head. He hesitated a fraction of an inch away, as though giving himself one final opportunity to stop. Then, his lips brushed lightly against the Endministrator’s forehead.
Soft.
Brief.
The contact was barely more than a featherlight touch, gone almost as soon as it had happened.
In his hold, the Endministrator stilled. And for one painfully long second, Ardashir wondered whether he had made a terrible mistake.
Yet, instead of a reprimand or the man pulling away, Ardashir felt the man in his arms seemingly melt. Not in a dramatic way, nor all at once, but… The last of the tension left his shoulders, his fingers loosened against the fabric of Ardashir’s clothes, like he was no longer trying to hold himself together with his fingers. A slow breath escaped the Endmin.
“... That…”, the Endministrator murmured quietly, eyes still closed, the crease between his eyebrows smoothened out, “... was nice.”
Ardashir closed his own eyes. The relief that washed over him was almost as painful as the weight settling in his chest, feelings threatening to bubble over. “... Forgive me”, he whispered anyway.
Gray-blue eyes opened at that, head shifting slightly to look up at the Phidia. “For what?”
“I overstepped.” His voice carried genuine remorse. “I allowed my emotions to outrun my judgement.”
The Endministrator looked at him for several quiet moments, before he shook his head gently. “... No.”
Ardashir blinked. “No?”
“You asked.”
The Phidia frowned faintly. “I… did not.”
“You did.”, the Endmin argued softly with a tired smile. “Just not with words.”
Understanding slowly dawned across Ardashir’s features. It seemed he had become rather obvious to the man in his arms over the time they had spent together. Or perhaps, he simply wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to the Endministrator. “... Ah.”
“You’ve been doing that a lot, always waiting, never taking.” The Endmin chuckled softly.
“... I try not to.”
“I noticed.
“... Still,” Ardashir said after a moment, “I shall endeavor not to presume again.”
The Endministrator considered his words, weighing his responses with a tired mind and slow thoughts. “You don’t have to avoid it because you’re… afraid. I don’t know what we’ll become, I don’t… remember loving you.”
“I know.”
“But…”, he smiled, small and honest, as he spoke. “... I don’t dislike being close to you.”
For Ardashir, those simple words carried the weight of lifetimes, a balm to his soul and a wound he had thought himself strong enough to endure by himself. He bowed his head ever so slightly. “... That is already more than I deserve.”
The Endmin’s frown was immediate as he reprimanded the man. “Don’t say things like that. You deserve…”, he searched for the right words once more, before settling on the simplest truth he could offer, one that he whole-heartedly believed in. “... to be happy.”
Ardashir’s expression became impossibly gentle and fond, as he glanced down at the man just a little shorter than him. “I am. How could I not be when you are here, My Lord?”
The Endministrator only let out a helpless little sigh. “... You really are impossible.”
“So you keep saying.”
That earned him another laugh. And for the first time in many, many years, Ardashir felt like the sound had finally become a part of his life once again, no longer just a sound he heard in his dreams, in his memories. It was present, with him now, and he would do his best to protect it at any cost. Even if it, perhaps, meant to be a little selfish at times.
It takes barely a few days until Perlica ends up cornering the Endministrator, just as the man was on his way from his office to the Bridge. She pulls him into the Singularity room and he briefly regrets taking a detour in the first place.
Her concern is evident on her features. Seems as if Chen had spoken to her about what she had witnessed late at night in the Endmin’s office.
“Endmin… Are you sure you’re alright?” Her voice is quiet, tentative and testing, like she wasn’t sure if she should even ask in the first place.
The Endministrator, as usual, believes she meant work, especially after the logistic nightmare they had to deal with in Yinglung Pass. “Very much so, Perlica, no need to worry about me.”
The Supervisor of Endfield simply furrows her brows, gaze sharpening at him. “I mean… with him.”
She knew bits and pieces of their history - Ardashir and the Endministrator - just not… the full picture. She didn’t know of the ring, of their promise or just how close the two had been. After all, she had been young, then, in training.
“I’m not afraid of him, if that is what you mean.” Leave it to the leader of Endfield Industries to play dumb on purpose, just to avoid interrogation about his lovelife.
The air left Perlica at the response. “I know, that isn’t what worries me.”
It went by unsaid that she worried far more than she let on. The Endministrator was a capable, independent man, after all. Insinuating anything else would be an insult to his very person. But, she cared, as did everyone around him. About him, his wellbeing, not just as their leader, but as a friend.
Her worry went beyond just that, though. With the bits and pieces she had found out about their past, she was worried he was carrying a guilt too heavy for his shoulders, or that Ardashir had, perhaps, become yet another burden for him, adding onto the many he already carried.
Perhaps, she feared the Endministrator felt responsible for the man who had once opposed them so diligently.
The Endministrator’s face softens at her concern. He was never good with handling such things, with letting others care for him like that. “Every time I look at him, I feel like…”, he begins, voice quiet, as his gaze drifts to seemingly nothing, “... someone entrusted me with something precious…”
The smile he gave was wobbly, didn’t reach his eyes and looked more strained than genuine.
“... and I broke it.”
Perlica realised, then, that there was much she did, in fact, not know.
She didn’t know just how far not only the guilt she had worried for seemed to go, nor how deep the conflicting feelings the Endministrator harbored ran. And yet, if she could take the burden off of him, she would do so in a heartbeat.
Wordlessly, she stepped close and simply hugged the man.
She remembers, sometimes, how he had done so. Rarely, but sometimes the occasions called for it. He had held her, so gentle and careful, softly rocking her like a father would with his daughter. Back then, when she was younger, a little reckless and wide-eyed in her eagerness to help, to be of use.
Now, it felt like it was finally her turn to repay the man in kind, and if all she could do was simply be there, to remind him that he wasn’t alone and that it was okay to feel things.
“I understand why you looked so haunted now, for weeks. Ever since Si mentioned that Nefarith had infiltrated the prison. How you looked at Ardashir, then. It makes… sense.” She mumbled into his coat.
The Endministrator in turn, hugged her back easily. Familiar, parental almost, his mind noted how much taller she had gotten when he wasn’t paying attention, growing into her station at Endfield. Truly a fine and formidable woman, perhaps more so than he gave her credit, sometimes.
“It’s… difficult. Especially everything considered. But I believe he is worth the struggle and mess I seem to have gotten myself into. Thank you, for understanding.” His words were spoken softly, gently into her hair, as he simply held her.
“Of course, Endmin. I may not like him very much, but… I will never doubt your decisions. Nor will I interfere when it comes to your own heart.”
The air seemed lighter, afterwards. Like the Operators around the Dijiang had noticed that Perlica was less tense, less uncomfortable, and followed suit. Perhaps it was the change in the Endministrator’s demeanor as well, everyone slowly coming to terms with the new changes. No one dared to question the Endministrator outright, after all, but doubt and furrowed eyebrows were difficult to smooth out, yet the Endministrator had learned patience from the best, after all, so he would wait.
The same day, M3 ended up visiting the office. Usually, she was found in the Medbay or on the Bridge of the Dijiang, always busy with something, rushing between duties the Endministrator wasn’t even entirely sure came from, or what exactly they were, but as long as everything ran smoothly, he wouldn’t question her. Not when she had been around long enough to earn his trust, even after his hibernation. He had enough work as is, without changing the schedules of Senior-Operators.
Her look was calculating, as she glanced between the two men working in harmony in the dim office space. “It’s nice to see you two talking again.”
The Endministrator looked up at that, a little surprised at her appearance. He had been so focused on his work, he didn’t even hear the office door slide open. “Again?”
M3 had a look of mischief on her face as she grinned. “You used to argue about tea.”
Ardashir looked up abruptly from his own paperworks, glancing at the woman with a frown. “I never argued.”
She looked like a cat who had just won a prize, entirely too smug as he stepped, much to his belated realisation, into her trap. “You absolutely did! Oh Endmin, if only you remembered.”
And that’s how the woman ended up in a chair she had pulled from god-knows-where, smug and filled with joy at telling the Endministrator stories from their past - mundane and domestic, like Ardashir had shared before, always careful to not let too much slip - that, somehow, all seemed entirely endearing at the cost of Ardashir’s dignity.
Ardashir, in turn, quietly suffers through the shame and embarrassment as she somehow manages to recount and remember things that his mind had completely banished out of his own thoughts ages ago.
With the smiles and laughs it pulled from the Endministrator, the Phidia decided it was but a little price to pay. The things he would do just to see his Lord laugh so freely, openly, smiling brightly and fondly went beyond imagination, after all.