"C'mon c'mon c'mon Iroh, don't you want to play with me?"

Iroh pressed his hand to his temple and forehead, feeling more forty than fourteen. "Ozai, no. Not right now. I have to study."

"Oh yeah? Then why you drawin' pictures?"

"They're called maps. And I have to draw them for my tutors, or else I won't be done by tomorrow, and I'll have to miss either tactics class or the morning drills, and the tutors don't like me doing that."

"...You hafta draw pictures for class? Woooowwww-" His ten-years-younger brother was still back on that. Iroh saw that Ozai had entirely missed the point. He shrugged and kept drawing, pouring himself more of the tea that'd gone cold. One of the maids came in to chivvy the little boy out of his room ("dinner and sleep, young man: early drills for you-" "awwww." and then a quietly closed door), and for a while he continued his studies.

"WHY ARE THEY RED?"

"Spirits of Moon and Air, Ozai!" Iroh shoved his chair back, dislodging his brother, who fell off its arm and onto his own. Iroh knelt down quickly as his brother began to cry; "no, look, look, Ozai, okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, look, stop crying, okay, it doesn't hurt that much, it's okay. It's okay. You're alright."

"No I'm not. Why'd you push me? that was mean, I didn't do anything it wasn't fair!"

Iroh's head was beginning to hurt. "I got startled. And you were doing something. I said for you to go away. Why're you back?"

"Because I wanneda talk."

"We can't. I've got to study. Look, if I explain things, will you leave?" Ozai nodded. Iroh nodded back and picked his brother up.

"Now," he hoisted Ozai up onto his back. "You see the red pieces? That's us. All the blue lines around are the Water Tribe ships, but the red ones - you see us all behind the cliffs?" A nod by his shoulder. "We're going to surprise them and cut off their supply line. That's going to make them weaker, and then they can't fight us anymore."

"And why're you have to draw all that?"

"I told you. Lessons. Now." He let his brother out a door, calling for a close-by guard to deal with him. "G'night."

"Iiirrrooohhhh."

"Good night, Ozai."

"But-"

Iroh shut the door and shook his head and went back to his cold tea and maps.


PTG: Nother challenge, this. Shortwrit.