AN: Thank you for reading my little fic here. I would greatly appreciate any feedback or comments! Elements of this story were inspired by LuigiWife1551's fic, Sick Day. With her blessing, I continue!
Noctis stirred awake, bleary eyes blinking against the morning sun that vented though the material of the tent. It wasn't often he was given the pleasure of waking natural whenever he wanted; the prince was prone to sleeping in until late in the day, much to the frustration of Ignis. Yawning and stretching out, the man crawled out of the tent and looked around the campsite bathed in sunlight.
Almost immediately, he was accosted by a laughing ball of energy they had named Prompto. The blond thrust his camera into Noctis' hands, mouth stretched in a broad grin.
"Dude, check it out! I've captured the rarest of photos!"
"Errr—"
Eyes flicked down just in time before a gloved hand swiped the camera from Noctis. A rather dishevelled and ruffled Ignis was glowering down at the camera screen, pressing at the buttons.
"It is not at all amusing, Prompto. Where is the delete function?"
"Hey, no, give that back! I'm not giving up the treasure of Ignis Ungraceful! Seriously, you're like, the sloppiest sleeper. You were drooling on your book-pillow!"
"I was not drooling!"
Noct elected to side-shuffle away from the pair's argument, heading for the safety of Gladio. The larger man was packing up their campsite already, and loading the heavier things into the Regalia.
"They been like that all morning?" Noctis asked, jerking his head towards Ignis and Prompto.
"Pretty much. You feeling any better?"
Noct's face fell, as the last dregs of the blessing of sleep were knocked away by Gladio's words. The worry and torment of the previous night resurfaced as he recalled their conversation, and the prince sighed.
"...A little." He lied, decided against having the same conversation all over again. "We just gotta trust Luna, I guess. She figured everything out so far..."
A heavy hand clapped on his shoulder, nearly knocking him sprawling on his face. When he looked around, the taller man was beaming down at him.
"Exactly. Put a little faith in your subjects, Noct." He cast a glance to Ignis and Prompto, where apparently the cook had lost his grip on the gunslinger's camera, and Prompto had taken no time in celebrating his victory as he ran away with his camera in hand. "Even if, y'know, some of them are these idiots..."
A smirk curled Noct's lip for the first time in a number of days.
"Was the photo that bad?"
"Oh gods yeah. Glasses wonky, bedhair, drool. Iggy's not going to live this one down for a few months."
It took a fair amount of time to get the four of them back in the Regalia and moving along, with some compromise on Prompto's part that he may keep the illusive photo of sleeping Iggy if he promised not to keep showing it to everyone. Ignis had, reluctantly, agreed to stop threatening to throw the blond out of the moving vehicle.
Finally, they were on their way to Altissia. To Luna, to the Leviathan, and to the third of the Six that Noct would have to prove his worth to receive the blessing of. By all accounts of what they had read, the Leviathan was a difficult goddess, one warped in pride and bitterness of eons past. Still, if he couldn't convince the serpent that he was the True King, he would have no hope of cleansing the Starscourge. Noct bit his lower lip and cast his eyes to his feet.
So much was on his shoulders. So much he had never asked for.
So wrapped up in his own thoughts was he, that he didn't notice the car start to slow.
"Hey er...Iggy? You okay?" Prompto's tentative voice cut through the haze of his self-concern, and Noctis looked into the rear-view mirror. What he saw brought his brow furrowing and chased away his own demons.
"Pull over, Ignis." He commanded, leaning forward and putting a hand on the back of the driver's seat for leverage. "Seriously, you don't look good."
"I...I'm fine..." The man's usually strong tone came a little weaker than usual, though he did his best to remain composed, his back was held just a little too stiffly upright, his hands curled on the wheel a little too resolutely, as if the actions were requiring too much thought or energy. His face had dropped into paler shades, and a pinkish hue marred across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. More worryingly was the light clouding of his eyes, veiling the usual sparkling emerald hues and dragging them into a murky green.
Still, Ignis clenched his teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching in defiance. "A little tired from this morning's excursions, but fine. Please do not worry about me, Your Highness."
Internally, Ignis was pleading for Noct to let this go. Whilst he had woken later than usual, a pressure of a headache beginning to build behind his eyes and his skin feeling a little more heated than it ought to, Ignis had paid it no heed. If he was coming down with some paltry illness, he would deal with it silently; he would not allow such a thing to slow them down at this point, nor would his composure allow him to.
Though the would-be king settled back in his seat, he did so uneasily. He wasn't wholly convinced by Ignis' reassurances, but knew better than to argue with the man whilst he was driving. Instead, he turned an imploring look to Gladio, who nodded once in mutual understanding. After a few minute passed, he promptly tried to stretch, long legs hitting the back of Prompto's chair.
"Ahh...Iggy, time for a pit-stop anyway? My legs are crampin' up back here."
Sharp eyes turned to the rear view mirror suspiciously, but not one to accuse anyone, Ignis sighed.
"Very well. But we mustn't dawdle. I don't wish to waste the daylight hours when we could be travelling."
It wasn't long before an outpost etched on the horizon and, silently thankful, Ignis pulled over and parked. Where the rest of the group got out, he remained in the car, stealing a brief second to rest his head back on the chair and close his eyes.
The headache hadn't subsided he noted with distain, pinching the bridge of his nose and knocking his glasses up in the process. And yet, he was no longer too warm – a creeping chill was beginning to settle on his skin like a film of oil, despite the fact he felt warm to the touch.
If he was getting ill, Ignis would live in denial of it for as long as humanely possible.
"Would an Ebony fix it?"
The driver jumped a little, startled by Noct's voice. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the prince, standing next to him outside the car with his hand resting on the door. The dark-haired man looked concerned, and yet, seemed to be respecting Ignis' wish not to talk directly about his current state of weakness. He was quietly grateful for that, and offered Noct a ghost of a smile across a tired face.
"Nothing it couldn't fix."
He got out of the car then, shoes clicking on the concrete, when his vision swam. He staggered forward, nearly coming to his knees if it weren't for Noctis' swift reactions in grabbing his arm and hauling him upright.
"Woah, okay there Specs, you're definitely not just hiding some sniffles. Come on...let's sit you down, yeah?" He began guiding Ignis to the Crow's Nest to sit in the booth the others had secured, even as the man mumbled assurances and protests that he was quite alright.
As they approached, Prompto immediately leap to his feet to help Noctis seat Ignis down. Of the four of them, he was the worst at keeping his concerns from marring his features, and the blond looked between the two of them in a state of semi-panic, worry glistening in his eyes.
"Hey wh-what's up with him?" He asked Noct in a near stutter, before sitting down near Ignis and putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You okay? You want me to grab you an Ebony?"
Ignis managed a hoarse laugh, noting how both of them had so far jumped on his favourite drink as perhaps being the miracle-cure he needed. Perhaps they weren't wrong.
"Please..." He replied graciously if gracelessly, and watched as the blond hopped up again to head to the counter.
"You good, Iggy?"
Gladio was watching the other man with more than a hint of concern, yet less panic than the other two. Less prone to outburst of emotion, Gladio was nonetheless a man of action. If something needed fixing, he would fix it, and he was drawn restless if he could not. Ignis noted that restlessness starting to stir in the other.
"Yes, yes. I suppose sleeping outside on a book last night hasn't sat well with me, is all. I must have caught cold."
The last word, strangely, roused a feeling of nausea in Ignis, and he nearly caved to the temptation to rest his head on the table and close his eyes. A stoic sense of pride kept him from doing so, though he clamped his mouth shut quickly all the same. It was as if in saying the word his skin prickled and chilled further, a sensation that was bringing him to sickness and discomfort.
Perhaps he shivered, a motion he couldn't hide, because he felt the heavy fabric of a coat rest over his shoulders. He glanced up in confusion, before realising Noctis had removed his own jacket and draped it over him.
"Y-Your Highness, you have no need to—"
"You're cold, and you're wearing it. That's an order."
Ignis swallowed a protest behind Gladio's laugh.
"Aw man, you're going to start pulling that kinda crap with us? Besides, generals order. Don't kings like, command?"
Noctis shrugged, sitting himself down next to Gladio and opposite Ignis.
"Eh, whatever. Doesn't the king get to decide what it's called?"
"Is that an order?"
"Damn right."
Ignis smiled resignedly, tugging slightly on the jacket to adjust it better over his shoulders. He was thankful for the warmth, and appreciated the comfort that came with the scent held on the jacket; it smelt faintly of amber, a warm and earthy scent distinct to the prince. He quickly shook the notion off, thankful for the feverish hue already staining his cheeks that might hide any embarrassment he felt for the sentimental thoughts that flitted over his illness-ridden mind.
"One Ebony! Pipin' hot, dash of cinnamon, good splash of milk aaaaaand-" Prompto had returned with Ignis' drink, setting it down in front of him with one hand, and then dropping some sachets next to it. "Three sugars. 'Cause I couldn't remember if you took two or three..."
Oddly, of all of them, Prompto was the only one to correctly recall how Ignis drank his Ebony; the others, for whatever reason, frequently assumed he enjoyed his coffee black. Perhaps it was his demeanour, but in truth, the man preferred the drink in a sweeter variety. Usually, he drank it iced, but with the chill coursing relentlessly across his skin, he placed both hands around the cup for warmth.
"Thank you, Prompto."
It wasn't long before they had turned in for the night, having decided (and simultaneously forced Ignis to admit) that they could not travel in his present state. Though he sounded off his protests of being well enough to drive, the trio had half-pushed the man into a hotel room, and Gladio had accidentally shoulder-bumped into the lanky man, knocking him sprawling into a bed.
"Well, you're there now. May as well rest up." He had observed gruffly, leaving Ignis scowling.
Still, he kicked off his shoes, making a vain attempt to lean over the bed and tidy them somewhat at the side of it, before changing his shirt into one of the looser tee-shirts he brought with him, and switching his trousers for a pair of shorts. Usually, he would fold his clothes (and Noct's...and Prompto's...and Gladio's...) before going to bed, but the exhausted man could feel the fever beginning to prickle up his throat and coddle his head stuffily.
He made do with a best effort to leave his clothes draped over the arm of a chair, before curling up under the quilt, legs tucked in.
"Errr...Specs?"
"Mmm?"
"...specs."
At Noct's reminder, the prince watched with half-amusement as one arm emerged from the quilt-pile holding the glasses Ignis had neglected to remove before tucking himself into bed, and blindly settled them on the bedside table. The dark haired prince then turned to the other two men, unease filtering over his expression.
"You think he'll be okay? We can take a break for a few days, get him to a doctor..."
"He probably just caught a cold from being out all night. He'll be fine. Besides..." Gladio sat back in his chair, eyes lowered on his phone screen as he absently played a game with Prompto, far less animated about it than the blond, "Iggy'd burst a blood vessel if he thought you'd gone to get a doctor. The guy likes looking after people. Being looked after? Not so much."
"Yeah..." Noct felt a pang of guilt stir in his heart then, a reminder of just how much of the basics they left to Ignis sounding in Gladio's words. "But if he gets any worse—"
"Doctor straight away. Bust blood vessels or not." Prompto agreed, sitting as he was upside-down on his chair, head handing off the seat and legs swinging lightly in the air, "If it's just a cold, he should be alright by tomorrow though, right?"
"Here's hopin'. The idea of either of you driving is enough to send me walking..."
His sleep was not restful. A light film of heat clung to his skin despite the unrelenting cold he felt, a sweat that refused to break across his body. Lungs singed and prickled as breaths came clipped and ragged, limbs twisting fitfully into the bedsheets and quilt, tangling them about him. Ignis' brow creased, his jaw clenched, as the fever-dream burrowed through his mind and into his eyes.
Flames, the world was on fire around him, the air itself a thick haze that wavered and wandered about him, erratic and unstable. He brought his arms up in vain to shield himself from it, though the act was an impossible one; the high temperature was all round him, unremitting and constant. He had nearly forgotten what it was like not to burn...
He could see the skin of his hands peeling away before his eyes, flesh raw and exposed. In the distance, a looming great figure watched over him, lazily sprawled across a throne of bones. And there, searing through the haze, a pair of ruby eyes under a twisting mass of horns.
The expression was amusement; Ignis noted with some wounding of his pride, this creature was amused at his plight.
"...Pitiful creatures..." The word may have been murmured from the beast, but the air around them shook with the force of its voice. "...shall be reforged in my image..."
He didn't think it possible, but the air around them seemed to increase in temperature once more, the impossible scalding flaying the skin from his hands and arms, his face boiled and blistered, his eyes reduced to cinder—
Ignis gasped and choked as he awoke, half-locked still within the dream's grasp, and still tangled within the bed sheets and something else far larger than he was with a binding grip on his arms, had he been thrashing in his sleep?
"—C'mon Iggy, calm down! You're dreaming, it's just a dream, c'mon..."
The primal panic that seemed to have caught him in his sleep ebbed away a little as he froze, staring into the gloom at the fuzzy figures surrounding his bed. A light was flicked on, though it did little to aid his sight.
He didn't need to see to hear the fear in Noct's voice.
"Ignis, are you okay? We're gonna get you to a doctor, okay, but you need to keep calm. Your temperature's through the roof..."
He couldn't understand how or why. He felt like he was freezing to death, no longer trying or being able to hide his shivering.
"I-I'm...fine..." The words came out as rote, expected and practiced, yet with no support of his own tone or any belief to back them up. As such, the protest fell on deaf ears.
"No, you're not. You nearly KO'd Gladdy in your sleep, dude." Prompto pointed out, earning a low growl from the man next to him and a light flinch from the blond. "What? He did!"
"Not helping." Gladio turned his attention back to the fever-lost man he was half-restraining, loosening his grip and letting him lie back down on the bed. "You stay there. None of this I'm fine nonsense either. Prompto, go get him some water. Noct, keep an eye on Iggy. We can't move him like this, I'll fetch a doctor to come here."
Everything seemed to be swimming through mud, his mind utterly stagnant with fever and he loathed it. Ignis was an observer, he watched, he calculated, he reacted. Being slow was out of the question, let alone being muddled and without sense. Some stubborn parts of his pride tried its best to claw together some dignity and grasp of the situation, but for the life of him he couldn't piece it together.
Instead, he sat up in bed and huddled the quilt closer to him, the motion small and slow as if to try and hide it behind some semblance of his usual upright grace.
"...I'm sorry..."
Noct watched Gladio leave, then turned a sad smile to Ignis. The man was a sorrowful sight, hair twisted and messy, skin paled and blotched with illness, eyes sluggish and veiled in a glistening fever cloud. Somehow, he was still more refined like this than Noctis was most mornings.
"Well, makes a change from I'm fine, but you're banned from apologising now too."
Paws scampered through the grass, beating a speed across the dirt that brought clouds up in its wake. The dog torn through the early morning darkness, eyes set steadfastly before him, his duty calling him through any fear of daemons.
Umbra dashed towards his destination, a book tied to his back, a message written with great haste within for the prince.
Ifrit is among you.
AN: Once more, thank you for reading and thank you to LuigiWife1551 for the inspiration for poor Iggy getting a fever...I just had an angstier theory as to what caused it! Reviews would be greatly appreciated!
