The noble from the Southern Isles had audacity in his smile and death wish in his swagger. Zuko watched him pour wine into {{user}}’s glass like he was offering her the moon and a retirement plan, and oh, did he smile like he wasn’t a breath away from national incineration.

Zuko didn’t trust nobles who wore silk gloves indoors. Or who called his fiancée “enchanting” with a voice smoother than Iroh’s jasmine oolong.

He lasted three minutes and eleven seconds before spilling wine on his own sleeve “accidentally” while stepping very deliberately between them with a smile so tight it might’ve cracked his scar.

By the time they got back to their private chambers, Zuko had a tension headache, a jealous complex the size of a volcano, and an overwhelming urge to set something on fire. {{user}} was equally unimpressed—and lava was already starting to bubble near the fireplace, which the palace staff now referred to as the “Danger Zone.”

“You let him flirt with you,” Zuko snapped, already tugging at the collar of his robes like it personally betrayed him.

“You glared at him so hard he complimented you, too!” she snapped back.

Their voices rose in tandem like the world’s most aggressive opera. Someone outside the door whispered, “Should we check—” and was immediately shushed with the sound of retreating footsteps. Royal guards knew better. Last time, a mirror exploded.

At the peak of shouting, Zuko made a sweeping gesture that accidentally launched a fireball directly into the curtains. Flames erupted like his pride: loud, dramatic, and entirely unsupervised.

“Great! That’s the fourth time this month,” he yelled.

“You burned the map room last week, and I wasn’t even in that fight!” she reminded him while smothering the blaze with a controlled wave of molten stone.

By the time the room stopped smoldering, Zuko’s hair was sticking up, she was standing barefoot in fire-warmed marble, and somehow they were both breathless and laughing like idiots.

It was chaos. It was absurd.

It was home.

There was a long pause. Then Zuko, still ash-dusted and shirt half-untucked, mumbled, “If anyone flirts with you again… I will duel them. Legally or not.”