"Man, I was lookin' forward to that gourmet seafood," Noct complained as Ignis led them from the camper that afternoon to the nearby haven. As Dino had been unable to secure them tickets to Altissia until the day after tomorrow, it seemed the wisest course of action to spend one night at the haven and one night at the hotel before they departed.
Of course, it came as no surprise to him that Noct was unhappy about this news.
"Iggy's right. We gotta save our funds for Altissia. Doubt there's gonna be any spots to camp there, so we gotta be able to pay a hotel bill until His Highness can get hitched," Gladio said with a smirk, ruffling Noct's hair until he slapped his hand away.
"And it isn't as though our celebration is cancelled," Ignis replied, shielding his eyes from the bright, hot sun to spot the grey stone of the haven at the end of the beach. "We can still check in to the hotel tomorrow night before we set out the following morning. Besides, the site is stunning—right near the crashing of the ocean waves. We should all sleep well tonight indeed."
"Yeah, I guess," Noct mumbled, dragging his feet and kicking up the sand onto the backs of Ignis's trousers.
At the sound of disappointment in the Prince's words, Ignis looked back and sent him a smirk from the side of his eye. "Besides, I believe we have bigger fish to fry today. If His Highness can manage us a fresh catch, we may yet be able to come up with a dish that will compete with even the Mother of Pearl."
"Really? So I can fish this afternoon then?" Noct said, his eyes growing suddenly wide and glittering as a slow smile crept up on his lips, and Ignis smiled warmly in return, pleased to see the rare look of elation that used to grace his face so often when they were children.
"Poor Coctura will never know what hit her," he heard Laura mumble amusedly from behind him.
Ignis sighed as he walked up the haven ramp. He'd been glad for her silence today and yesterday, for every time she spoke, he was reminded of the sheer mortification that permeated every moment he'd spent with her. He hadn't been able to manage a personal word to her since the night before last, knowing that he had slept, likely drooling, on the head a sovereign monarch the very first night they'd left the city.
And that was to say nothing of everything else he'd allowed her to do. Though he noticed that she'd never completed another chore directly for Noct after that first day, for which he was grateful, she had spent the last week and a half taking care of his own personal errands, doing prep work for their meals, and assisting with the cleanup afterward. It had been a guilty relief at the time, freeing him up to increase his studies of the area and get more sleep—even engage in better combat, but the shame of knowing that a queen had been pressing his dress shirts and trousers whenever she had found those secret spare moments to do so was too much for him to bear.
Then that she'd been forced to compromise her personal philosophies to compensate for their inadequacies . . . a circumstance which he regretted deeply but respected her highly for. And how had he repaid her? By demanding she eat his meal as though he were a child throwing a tantrum to get attention.
Gods, the indignity of it all.
He'd taken the list out of the armiger to keep her from serving him further, but she was already familiar with his routine. So of course it hadn't stopped her from having a fresh cup of coffee ready for him yesterday morning before they left Longwythe, just as his silence hadn't kept her from leaving a fresh loaf of bread on the counter before collapsing on her bunk this morning and another steaming cup of coffee as he'd awoken earlier this afternoon. Since she had arisen before the rest of them, he had a feeling he was to find more evidence of her labors as the day progressed.
She seemed to sense his need for space as they set up camp, because she helped Gladio assemble the new tent instead of assisting him with the kitchen equipment as she normally did. Noct and Prompto had decided to start fishing as soon as possible in the hopes of catching enough for dinner, and Ignis, grateful for the reduced audience, allowed them to go without finishing their own tasks. At the very least, he owed it to Laura to take her foraging to make up for his treatment of her, as Prompto had suggested, and he wanted to ask her with as few people around as possible. She never reacted the way he expected her to, as evidenced by the light that seemed to die in her eyes every time he referred to her as 'Your Majesty,' so he wasn't completely certain whether she would be interested or insulted at his request. He'd rather not have too many witnesses.
As to that light in her eyes, he was at a loss for how to handle that as well. He could hardly cease referring to her by her title. He really only used Noct's given name because they had been raised together as children, and even then, Ignis often used his title from the sheer force of his training. However, Noct had never displayed pain at its use, either, which made her case an anomaly in Ignis's eyes.
Having completed his tasks, he took his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket to wipe the sheen that had formed on his brow before turning to where Laura was setting the chairs around the fire ring.
"Would you care to accompany me on a foraging trip, Your Majesty? I am most eager to find some ingredients which our armiger does not yet possess, and I thought you might still be interested in learning more about our kingdom."
He thought he could hear Gladio snort at his words, but he ignored his reaction in favor of the woman straightening to stand in front of him. As he had predicted, that shadow of pain flickered across her eyes before they widened in surprise.
"Yes, I think that's a very good idea," she said softly, though for some reason, he doubted it was the foraging that she thought would be a good idea.
For the next two hours as they walked together, he was a paragon of professionalism, instructing her on the finer points of finding chocobeans, sweet peppers, and aegir roots among the grassy, breezy cliff faces. Ignis allowed her to lead them, however, in the small hopes that she would reveal one of her unimaginable wonders and include him in the discovery as she'd made a point to do since their first day out of the city.
She did seem to be steering them in a particular direction—past the winding road leading down to the quay and up the natural stone bridges of the cliff faces, and even through his cool demeanor, he couldn't hold back a secret shiver of anticipation at what she might show him next. Even the walk itself was cleansing to him, as the fresh, salty air made his breath come easier and the sweet relief of some greenery after so many days of desiccated brownness seemed to brighten his vision.
But at the moment, she was upset with him, and as usual, he was at a loss for how to handle the situation.
"Please, Ignis. I know you didn't bring me out here just to teach me the names of the plants and not even let me lift a finger to help harvest anything. Let me be of some use, please."
"I wouldn't hear of it, Your Majesty," he replied automatically, and he winced inwardly. He really ought to find some more graceful way to handle the situation he had found himself in with her. He'd never met a monarch that despised her title so, but then, he supposed he could understand why, with the death of her people. Perhaps he should rethink his strategy.
Chancing a glance at her, he watched as she halted, her face draining of color. "Please," she whispered, shaking her head in small, jerky movements. "Don't do this."
He decided that a change of topic was the best way forward for now. "Prompto has alerted me to the possibility that I may have overlooked your dietary requirements. I must ask for your forgiveness once again for my abhorrent behavior the other night. I'm afraid I couldn't discern from your choices thus far if you were vegetarian or vegan, so if you would be so kind as to inform me of your preferences, I shall endeavor to learn all I can to see to your needs."
She seemed to wither before his eyes, and he wondered at why this simple question could trouble her so.
"Umm . . .," she began. She closed her eyes and hung her head, cutting off her expression from his view. "Out here in the wild where we gather our own ingredients, I'm vegetarian," she said tonelessly.
"Very well then," he said in a cheerful tone in an attempt to get her to smile. "A carnivore and a vegetarian will certainly challenge my culinary skills to rise to new heights."
When she looked up at him again, the wind beating the strands of her hair that had come loose from her chignon against her face, he could see plainly from her bleak expression that he'd failed.
"You've been cold and formal with me since Longwythe. Why?"
"I am merely paying my respects to your station," he replied, lowering his gaze in deference down to the long, stringy grass at his feet in lieu of calling her by her title.
"You forget, Ignis, I'm not queen of anything any longer."
"Perhaps not," he said, looking back at her once again, "but you are still royal. I have a lifetime of training regarding the treatment of royalty that, I'm afraid, is not easily cast aside."
It pained him to say this, as traveling with her had made him so happy these past days; her companionship and warmth had dispelled the loneliness he'd felt like an unnamable hole inside him his entire life. It wasn't as though he were truly alone; he'd had Noct and His Majesty, both of whom he loved dearly, but the added complications of their liege-vassal relationship separated him somewhat. He'd grown closer to Gladio and even now Prompto, but close though they had become, these were still relationships of circumstances. Ignis also had the benefit of a blood relation in the Citadel, his Uncle Caeli, even if he couldn't often take advantage of the familial connection to hear news of his parents. He knew very well he was blessed to have all these kind people in his life.
But he had ceded so much of himself to her in these past few days, and the idea of going back to those sleepless nights, the hours of extra chores, the evenings spent alone—disquieted him, even with the gift of his friends and patchwork family. He found himself yet again questioning every principle his tutors had worked so hard to teach him in order to keep her companionship.
"You don't seem to have that issue with Noctis, and I don't want you to be my servant," she said as she frowned at him.
But he did have that issue with Noct. Torn as he was between raising the boy and serving him, he was always toeing the line between chastising parent, protective older brother, and respectful servant. He knew it was his duty to take care of him and die for him should the need arise, but beyond that, he was still unclear as to his role, even after all these years. It had been ripping him in two—but he had as of yet been unable to choose which he was supposed to be based on the promise he'd given His Majesty as a boy. He'd learned as he grew older, however, to rid himself of any ambiguity in order avoid entangling himself in such a mess ever again.
"Then what do you wish from me?"
Her eyes turned hard as she suddenly reached for his hand and dragged him across the footbridge that arched over the road they'd come in on the day before.
"Come with me," she said in a rough voice, and he followed, trying not to trip over the rocks hidden in the long grass. He was somewhat dumbfounded by her sudden change of the rules of engagement in this conversation, but certainly interested to see where she would take it.
Ignis couldn't recall the exact day holding her hand had become more about expressing their friendship than helping her realign; it had merely seemed to happen one day as naturally as breathing, though only when they were alone now that it was no longer a matter of professional assistance. He'd grown accustomed to entwining his fingers with hers each time she would simply grab his hand and pull him off somewhere without a second thought—just as she was doing now.
It was almost as though they were friends. He'd never had a friend, really—someone the same age as he that didn't need or want to be taken care of . . . an equal. But of course, that particular illusion had come crashing down on him in Longwythe, as she wasn't an equal, was she?
Without warning, she stopped short in the middle of the footbridge. She didn't let go of his hand but instead flung her other arm out to the horizon.
"Look at that."
Focused as he had been on his thoughts and his task, he hadn't noticed that the sun was beginning to set, and she had just brought them into full view of the quay as the light was turning Angelgard in the distance a dusky purple and setting the choppy waters of the bay on fire. It was, of course, the moment he had been waiting for the entire afternoon, but her harsh tone contrasted too much with the breathtaking view, and he had to take a moment to decide whether to be amused, bemused, or awed. He decided on a combination of the three as he looked down at her azure eyes shining in the early evening light.
"That," she said, her voice soft, "that's what I want from you."
This was why he wanted to keep her so badly—despite his training, despite the fact that his worth could never rise to her higher station. She saw him not as a caricature of a man who enjoyed cooking and cleaning and working without rest, but as a curious man, interested in exploring all life had to offer—because he knew he had experienced so little of life thus far. She had proven her unique view of him on those nights by the fire after having relieved him of the lonelier aspects of his life, when she had asked him not only the standard questions for getting to know a person, but questions no one had ever asked him in his life—questions he himself didn't always have an answer for. What did he like to do in his spare time? What would he do if he had spare time? What would he want to be if he weren't an advisor, if he could do or be anything at all? What were some of the little things in life that he loved?
He had repaid her for her thoughtfulness by answering truthfully and thoroughly, telling her details about himself even the Prince didn't know because he'd simply never asked: how he loved the grace, athleticism, and orchestral music of the ballet and wished he had more time to see the shows; how it would be his dream to travel the world and learn about all the cultures he had studied firsthand; his interest in fashion; his desire to learn anything and everything he could get his hands on; how he admired the quiet, restless beauty of nature—the beauty in all things, really; how he appreciated anything done with style, elegance, a flourish; even mundane things, such as his appreciation for a hot cup of coffee and a warm, flaky croissant on a crisp, fall morning. He'd confessed these knowing with absolute certainty that she wouldn't laugh or tease, but join in his interest enthusiastically, and she had. And since that first night, she'd gone out of her way to show him any wondrous sight she'd found, including the view he was now taking in.
Laura pulled their entwined hands up near his face, her forearm wrapped around his, and he was instantly brought back to their first night together by the campfire, where he had held her all night as she slept on his chest. He had stayed awake for over an hour that evening, despite his exhaustion, feeling her breath hit his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt and her pulse fluttering like a bird's wings against his wrist, just as it was now. She leaned forward on her toes and looked up at him so that their noses were nearly touching, and he sucked in a quiet breath, his mind wiped blank.
"This," she whispered fiercely, the tea-scented air from her lungs washing over him as she squeezed his fingers tightly. "This is what I want from you."
Ignis squeezed her hand in return, but his heart filled with apprehension. What on Eos could she possibly be implying?
"You see, that's the issue. As much as this," he gave their hands a little shake, "intrigues me, I'm afraid I don't know what it entails."
Laura searched his face for a long moment, and he wondered what she was attempting to glean from so deep in his psyche. "That's the beauty of it, Ignis. It entails whatever you want it to. I don't want anything from you that isn't given freely and unreservedly."
Why, oh why did she always say such enigmatic things to him? Her statement hardly cleared up the matter of what she wanted from him, and she couldn't possibly be saying that he had the choice to take whatever he wanted from her, as any relationship beyond friendship would be unthinkable. A servant could never be worthy of a queen; he would never be worthy of her. For all that he'd been surrounded by allies in his life that were all he had, they'd all needed him for something—mostly to take care of Noct. He'd never felt as though he could be wanted for more than his mind or of what use he could be, but her interest in him for who he was while simultaneously wanting nor demanding nothing from him in return meant everything to him. She'd even taken matters a step further and often gone out of her way to make him smile, to do something for him—a baffling yet touching aspect that he'd treasured. Would that he were more successful in returning the favor.
With everything she'd done for him, at the very least, he couldn't in good conscience continue to cause her pain like this. If she wanted to continue this friendship as much as he did, what was the harm?
"I don't want to be a queen to you. I'm not even your queen. Why can't I be Laura as I was before—just Laura?"
He was a practical man, if anything else, and if a queen directly requested that he call her by her given name, he could not refuse her. As for her friendship, he had time to figure it out. He wondered for a moment who he would become, how much more of his finely-honed etiquette he would cast aside in order to keep her should this trip last much longer.
"Very well, then, Laura," he said, giving her hand a final squeeze before letting go. "We should be getting back though, before the sun goes down completely and the daemons come out."
"Not that you and I couldn't handle them," she said with a smirk and mischievous sparkling eyes, and he was so delighted to have earned that look from her again that he couldn't suppress a slight curve of his own lips in response.
"Indeed!" he replied as they began making their way back to the haven.
As they walked back together, Ignis ruminated on all he had learned of and from her so far. As kind as she'd been to them all, there was still something nagging him about her identity—still too much about her that didn't add up in his mind. He knew in his bones that she hadn't yet told them the full truth, and he hoped to gather enough evidence, hopefully before they left for Altissia, to force her confession. What she might have to say could very well change everything for them.