It wasn't uncommon for Aranea Highwind to seek him out. The two were regularly seen sparing with one another. Their similar combat styles and magitek enhancements complimented each other and made her an ideal opponent. Not to mention they shared an equal distaste for Chancellor Izunia. They often had bouts whenever they were stationed together. So Ignis was not surprised in the slightest when the deadly dragoon waltzed into his temporary office in the Formuth Garrison as if she owned the place and kicked the door shut behind her. "Ah, afternoon, Commodore. How are you and your men faring?"
Aranea made a slightly perturbed face at being addressed by her title, before unceremoniously dropping down into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs stationed in front of the desk. "About as good as can be expected, Specs. Daemons are getting feisty on the night patrols, but other than that nobody's pulled together the balls to attack our ship. Getting a little routine to be honest. Though, we did come across a little excitement last night."
Ignis glanced up from his paperwork to catch Aranea giving him a look. Whatever she had been up to was likely to be of interest to him then. "Do tell."
Aranea answered after a moment of fiddling with one of the clasps on her armor. "Well, I had the pleasure of receiving another off-the-books assignment from His Extremely Creepiness."
Ignis frowned. The chancellor was becoming fond of using Aranea for his errands. Errands that more recently tended to involve his likely unsuspecting childhood friend. "What did Izunia want?"
"Oh, you know Goldilocks." Aranea paused in her tale to wave her hand aloft in a humorous spoof of the chancellor's overly dramatic mannerisms. "If only I would be so kind as to accompany the young king and his merry band of babysitters spelunking in Steyliff Grove."
Ignis couldn't prevent his lips turning up in a slight smirk at hearing Aranea's impersonation of Ardyn's accent. She had been practicing.
Aranea grinned, pleased with his reaction to her performance. "Think I even had the boy band warming up to me a little by the time we made it back to the surface. Seemed to think I was a trustworthy source for information. Pretty boy was particularly concerned about you, Handsome."
"Was he, now?" So Noctis had been asking questions about him. At least he had likely read his message after all. It was relieving to know he had not completely burned his bridges with his old friend. Perhaps he could pass along more information through Aranea in the future.
A flicker of concern flashed across the dragoon's face so fleetingly Ignis wasn't entirely convinced he'd even witnessed it. "Hey, you wanna stowaway for one of my patrols? We should be staying near the Vesperpool tonight. Might inspect a few havens nearby. It'd be just like old times."
"That would be most reckless." Though a tempting suggestion Ignis acknowledged, if only to himself.
"Well, if you change your mind you know how to find me. Oh, and before I forget, there's one more thing." Aranea produced a periodical of some kind and laid it on the desk opened to the centerfold.
Leaning over the pages, Ignis studied the photograph that dominated the spread with dawning dread. She had found another one. His face was displayed prominently and just to the right of the magazine's gutter. The picture had been taken late in the evening, judging by the sky's orange hue, and his hair was caught up in the breeze, blown over his eyes which were focused intently a little to the left of the camera. Even the green contact lenses could not hide the brilliant glow of his magitek eyes at such close distance. The sunset's vibrant light had the added effect of making his faint scars appear more dramatic. This was likely taken right after his announcement on the imperial blockades. Skimming the cutline, he noted that one of the Meteor Publishing photographers was the culprit this time. At least it wasn't the cover of another adolescent tabloid. Ignis allowed himself a resigned sigh as his cheeks heated with embarrassment.
Aranea was far too pleased with herself and chuckled at his chagrin. "Don't look so glum, Handsome. I'm thinking about adding this one to my personal collection."
"Please tell me you're not keeping these." Ignis dismayed at Aranea's gleeful cackle.
Since meeting him during his military training and learning of his aversion to appearing in all forms of printed media, Aranea had made something of a game out of finding his photographs and showing them to him. She had dubbed his camera shyness hilarious and seemed to get endless amusement out of teasing him about it. Ignis had thought himself long over blushing for such things, but Aranea still managed elicit a reaction from him. Rather pitiful, in Ignis' opinion, considering such occurrences had become common place in the last eight years. It had all started during Lunafreya's sixteenth birthday celebration. The Empire had finally decided to allow Luna to perform her calling and she was to be inaugurated as the youngest oracle in history, at last permitted to go to the people in need of her healing. The imperials deemed their decision worthy of much praise and had invited numerous media outlets in order to gain attention for the momentous event.
Ignis remembered feeling awkward from a recent growth spurt and arriving to the ceremony with his hair far more windswept than he'd normally allow. The ornate white robes designated for his station had seemed off when paired with his usual gelled style, the modern look not meshing with the regal attire. At least he had convinced the seamstress to forgo the Dracula-esque collar for something a little less outlandish, but he did not want to slight his ancestors or his country by throwing out tradition entirely, so he left much unchanged. Normally, being of royal lineage, Ignis should have been familiar with an overly healthy share of public scrutiny. This had not been the case. While being home to the oracle did afford Tenebrae some autonomy, the imperials had claimed the children of the deceased Lady Sylva as wards. Ignis and his sister's actions were closely monitored and interactions outside the manor had been severely limited. He had not been brought before the public eye since the Empire's invasion into his home.
Somehow sensing his dilemma, Lunafreya had been quick to come to his rescue. She always preferred he go without hair product entirely, taken by the natural sweep of his bangs across his forehead. And Ignis, despite abhorring the feeling of hair in his face, accommodated her wish. It was her birthday after all, not that he'd ever been able to deny his sister anything.
It was on that day that the teenaged Nox Fleuret siblings, mostly obscured within the stewardship of the Empire, were presented to the world. People of Eos Magazine had never been the same. Ignis had received almost more attention than the oracle herself, appearing on the covers of printed media throughout Eos. Perhaps most worrisome of all of was the massive influx of people styling their hair just like his.
Mortified and convinced the hot blush on his skin would become permanent, Ignis had immediately vowed to never wear his hair like that again. Lunafreya was, of course, ecstatic at the development and had been quick to point out that if he changed it now the media would again be enraptured.
Further proof of his sudden popularity came by way of Umbra's return with the notebook he and his sister shared with Noctis. The younger boy had the cheek to send a magazine clipping depicting a close up of Ignis during the ceremony's proceedings along with the headline: Teen Heartthrob Hidden Behind the Empire's Veil. Beneath the clipping Noct had written a brief message thanking him for getting the fangirls off his back. Ignis hadn't known whether to throttle Noct or beg the other boy's advice. He'd chosen instead to inquire how the boy's training was coming along with Gladio, a point of endless grievance for the Lucian prince. That had been the last time Ignis had written to Noctis in the book.
The Empire had not been satisfied with the publicity created by the ceremony, believing the media had not painted them as the gracious host mercifully sharing the oracle with the world as intended. In fact, they were commonly portrayed in a rather unflattering light, if mentioned at all, as Lunafreya and Ignis found themselves in the spotlight instead. Having noticed the accidental attention, the Empire sought to make use out of the oracle's brother and Ignis was essentially drafted into the Imperial Army's service.
It would be a few years till he would meet Aranea. Already a rising star, the dragoon had claimed him to be something of a mystery and had been all too eager to puzzle him out. Ignis suspected it had more to do with how easily flustered his younger self had been. None the less, the woman had become an invaluable ally. Pulling himself from his thoughts, Ignis addressed said ally, "I wouldn't linger here long if I were you. I am arranging for Caligo to take command of this base."
"Aw, what, afraid the major suck up will try to include me in his delusions of grandeur? Honestly, the guy's barely more competent than that idiot, Loqi," Aranea scoffed.
"I'm actually counting on him being deployed with the suppression forces they've been stockpiling here for Altissia." Ignis smiled behind steepled fingers. "His incompetence should allow for a few surprises to make it aboard the airships along with the MTs."
Naturally, Aranea was delighted with his plan. "I always forget how devious you can be, Specs. Perhaps I'll move up my retirement plans after all. Men are getting antsy as it is the way the Empire is going. Might stick around for a few more patrols, though, should a message worth passing along come my way. It's gonna cost you some of those Tenebraen tarts I know you still experiment with now and then."
Bless this woman. "I will keep you informed."