Summary: Ardyn issues an ultimatum, Ignis is inept to matters of his own heart, and Gladio falls in love with a baby coeurl.

"You," Aranea growled, fingers already curling up into claws.

"Me," Ardyn agreed pleasantly.

Realizing that this was a setup, she began to gather her things.

"Oh, please don't go just yet. We've only just gotten ourselves reacquainted!"

"This is what you've reduced yourself to? Getting someone else to summon me on your behalf?" she snapped. The woman who'd called her had claimed that she was a personal assistant. Aranea should've smelled a trap by then. Usually clients came to her direct, and they'd share mutual acquaintances. She'd never even heard of the company the woman had mentioned. "Play your games elsewhere! I'm done with you!"

"I couldn't very well call you myself. You would've hung up before I could even say anything!"

"There's nothing left for us to say to each other!" she said, voice rising up several notches higher. She now knew the reason Ardyn had picked this spot. With privacy assured, she could scream and shout all she wants and none of the other patrons would hear her. Which was starting to worry her somehow. Exactly what was he planning to do with her?

He held his hands up, palm outwards in a placating gesture. "There's no point in starting a dialogue with hostilities. So why don't we take simple steps and begin by sitting?" He pulled out a chair, and motioned towards it.

Aranea crossed her arms across her chest, stubbornly jutting her chin out. "No."

"Suit yourself." He sat down, leaning backwards so that it was easier look at her. "Would you at least dine with me? This is supposed to be a working lunch."

"No."

"Have you received my gift from your lawyer? I hope you find it satisfactory."

"I wouldn't know. I threw it out the window."

"You threw it-?" A genuine look of puzzlement crossed his face, his eyes searching hers as if discerning whether or not she was joking. "Did you really?"

"I imagined it was you. I was pretty high up at that time."

Ardyn suddenly laughed, a deep rumbling chuckle reverberating out of his throat before expanding it to a robust display of mirth. Never before had she met a man who seemed delighted that he'd just wasted millions of gil. "Ah, yes. Now I remember why I like you."

"'Coz of my charmin' good looks?" she snarled.

He made a show of considering this. "Well, yes. That too. Oh, I do so wish that you'd sit down, my dear. It's getting harder to talk to you like this."

"Then get to the point. I see your lips flappin' but they're still saying nothing."

"How is the Royal Advisor? Well, I hope?"

The mere mention of Ignis had brought a deep pang within her. She pushed it aside, fighting to maintain her expression. Ardyn's fishing for cracks, and if he finds it, he'll go for the kill. "He's alright."

"He seems like a very fine gentleman. It looks as if you've gotten yourself an upgrade. Didn't take long for you to find a new bedwarmer, obviously. Or did you fall into his?"

"Why would you care anyway? It's not like it matters anymore. Or is this your way of sayin' that you're jealous?"

"Perhaps I am. If I say that, what would you have done?"

"Hah, nothing. Probably call you out on your bullshit, but that's it. You're not capable of caring for anything or anyone beyond yourself. I should've stopped bothering myself about you ages ago."

"But you didn't, because you did it out of the kindness of your heart."

"Don't talk to me about kindness. You won't even know what that is."

"At the very least I project no illusions about what I really am. I wish the same could be said about you."

"Wow. And that makes you so much better than me. Do you want a sticker now? Or some extra dessert?"

"Well, I was about to order some...until you said that you won't be dining with me. And it wouldn't be proper now, would it? Me eating by myself?"

She leaned over, very slowly. Not once she broke eye contact. "Go ahead," she gritted out. "Enjoy yourself."

And she turned around to leave. She really should've done that: walk away and never look back. But Ardyn was so good...so good at reeling her in that she wondered how come she'd never learnt her lesson even after all these years.

"I heard that you're selling off our Lestallum home. Such a shame, really. I quite liked that one."

A fresh wave of righteous fury ignited within her. And it was twofold this time. She really couldn't decide which one she was angriest at the most, so she attacked both.

Ardyn found himself being yanked forward in his chair. She'd grabbed him by the front of his coat, face inches away from him, a snarl on her lips and a fearsome intensity in her eyes that burned right into his. He found it exhilarating - seeing this side of her. She was wild, feral, and hungry. Always hungry. Always yearning for something that she knew would never be hers. His first impulse had always been to subdue her, as he was wont to do towards everyone else. But she was special. He actually liked her like this. She's much more fun this way.

"Tobin and Ivy. You've abandoned them. What the hell's wrong with you? Ivy's very sick and Tobin had to sell off some of the things in the house just to make ends meet. Why'd you stop paying 'em? They've been working for you far longer than any of the other staff, and this is how you treat them?"

"I can't very well keep paying for broken tools now, can I?"

"Tools?" she echoed, fingers tightening around his coat. He could hear the strain of fabric, and if she'd ended up ripping his clothes, he wouldn't mind. Suddenly he felt compelled to touch her again. "Tools?! That's how you really see 'em? Must be real easy to live in your world where everybody else is sub-human except for you."

"And you, my dear." His fingers had crawled up to slowly grip her hands, and she'd been too angry to notice. It wasn't until he pried them off him, caressing her skin in process that she'd realized what he'd done. She yanked herself off as if she'd been electrocuted, looking utterly disgusted.

"Oh, don't act so shocked now. We've done far worse things to each other before," he smirked. "You really are looking better than ever. Rubbing shoulders with royalty must've done you a lot of good. And to think that you'd shunned that kind of life before. How is it now? Dining on honeyed kingatrice tongue every night? Sipping rose champagne and sleeping between silken sheets? You must be enjoying yourself immensely, especially with that Royal Advisor whispering sweet nothings into your ear."

"Quit. Spying. On me!" It was one of the biggest transgressions he'd ever done to her - sending out eyes and ears to violate her privacy and report back to him. His need for control and to be able to know everything had gotten the best of him, and she found it unnerving as she wondered just how much of her secrets that he really knew. Why must he still keep tabs on her now? What does he want from her?

"I'm just a man who happens to have friends everywhere-"

"Spies, you mean."

"I most certainly never asked them to keep tabs on you. That information was shared voluntarily-"

"After threatening them and theirs."

"Darling-"

"Don't call me that."

"Darling," he repeated with greater emphasis, "have I actually threatened you into divulging information you are not willing to give up?"

"No."

"Have I either used, promised to use, or intimidated with any form of violence on you?"

"No. You get someone else to do that. On other people."

"Part and parcel of the job. We learn to delegate as best as we can. Otherwise we'd never get anything done. But that is a different topic entirely. We're talking about you now." He suddenly got up, smiling down as he towered over her. "As a whole, I have been nothing but magnanimous to you."

She heard what he was saying, and she still couldn't believe how beyond ridiculous it was.

I may be an asshole, but I wasn't that kind of asshole to you.

And so she said it: "No. You're still an asshole. End of story."

"Oh, do not think that your pretty little boyfriend is entirely blameless. He sends spies after you as well. They watch you 24 hours, and report every single thing they see to him. Who you saw, where you went, what type of ramen you had for dinner…"

She narrowed her eyes. Ardyn's definitely paddling into dangerous waters now. "Liar."

"On the contrary. I am anything but. See for yourself."

He produced a brown envelope from his coat and handed it over to her. After a marked display of reluctance, she took it.

There were photos inside. Some in sharp definition, some grainy from enlargement. It seemed like something taken straight out of an espionage movie. The more she shifted through the shots, the more her fury mounted. Hadn't she been violated enough already? Not by one, but two men?! What is it with their need to be on top of everything?

She heard Ardyn's voice, sounding so far away. "He'd obviously thought that you're still untrustworthy. You don't exactly inspire confidence, do you? What with your recent behaviour and your previous affiliations…"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. Quietly. Measuredly. The calm right before the storm.

"I don't quite follow. What-"

"Is it because of what I did to you? That I used the excuse I was unhappy and then went behind your back and had an affair? I know it isn't an excuse, and it's wrong. I get it. You were hurt, and betrayed. Even more so when you knew Julian wasn't yours. This whole thing's messed up, that's what it is. And it's all because I was too chicken shit to look at you in the eye and tell you that it isn't working anymore. We've got nothing left to get back to, and that eats you up alive. I know it did to me. I should've said this to you before…"

For once her face wasn't contorted in anger or hostility. She stared at him with a look of sincere regret.

"I'm sorry."

Something flickered in Ardyn's eyes. His half-grin, earlier on so smug and teasing, was slowly fading away, being supplanted with...what? Regret? Sadness?

Pain?

For the briefest of moments, Aranea glimpsed his vulnerability. All he needed was an acknowledgement. An apology. If he'd ever harboured any hope whatsoever that they could get back together, however, that could no longer happen. That door's already closed for the both of them. Not only closed, but sealed tight with the only key thrown away.

Within that span of seconds, they'd both finally understood that.

He suddenly frowned, shaking his head as if ridding himself of those thoughts.

"He'd made considerable effort digging up your secrets, you know," he said.

"What?"

"Granting access to your military records was easy enough...thanks to my help," he went on, pulling out something else from his coat. "But of course I had to make sure that he didn't see this…"

It was another photo. Much older. She was much younger in it. It wasn't the proudest moment of her life, but it was still there, documented within blocks of black and white pixels. Details were smudged in some parts, but what transpired during the very moment that photo was taken was clear as day.

She recognized the Imperial uniform, the Crownsguard, the whiplash motion his head made as she pummelled him, the spatters of blood and spit on the grimy floor. She could even smell it: the coppery tang, the dusty fug of moldy walls, mixed with the stench of sweat and despair. She was really putting herself into it, because her superiors were watching, and because she had a lot to prove...not only to them, but to herself as well.

But mostly it was because it's much, much easier hitting a bound and defenseless man who was already on his knees and had surrendered himself to his fate.

She felt a wave of shame wash over her.

"Imagine what loverboy would think of you now, once he knows you're a Crownsguard killer."

"It wasn't-"

"You were the last person to see him alive. And I find it funny how...less than three days later, his wife's body was discovered. Right around the same time your own disappearance was noted."

"You wanna narrate a whole textbook of ancient history here, by all means do it. I'm out."

"Oh, there's going to be a whole lot more narrating, once the official tribunal takes place."

Her footsteps faltered. "What?"

"You honestly didn't think that they are simply going to let you walk away after failing your duties as a soldier and an Imperial citizen? This isn't some school club where you can just quit by not attending."

Aranea scrunched her eyes shut, fingers trembling as she clenched them into fists. It was a joke, really. One big screwed up joke. And Ardyn was the punchline. She knew this day would come. They would hound her, no matter where she was, and they'll never give her peace, until she gave them what they wanted.

"For betraying the Empire, and for colluding with the enemy, you now stand trial before the military council. Do await for correspondence from us for further instructions. Oh, and try not to skip town this time. I will keep on finding you, you know."

Ardyn cocked his head sideways. Aranea was turned away from him, so he couldn't see her expression. But the rigid line of her shoulders and back was already telling.

"You want to tell him about this? Or should it be me?" he said. "Because one way or the other, he will find out."

She said nothing.

He went on: "You should also tell Edna while you're at it. You know...since you're already in a confessing mood and all."

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"The Crownsguard's wife who was murdered. She was her daughter. It was your handiwork, wasn't it? I find it in poor taste if I end up accusing the wrong person. But I'm usually right about these things."

"She talks about not wanting to be back in a cage."

"'Course she doesn't," Gladiolus grunted. "Just look at what Ardyn's done to her. Listen, man...Aranea's a wild thing. You can't give your heart to wild things. They'll always want to break free and do whatever they damn well like. If you can't accept that, then you'll be in for a rough ride, buddy."

"What does one do, then?"

"Let her come to you. Be there for her when she needs you. Make it clear that no matter what, you'll always be home to her. Be a static point, really. You're pretty good at that. And for goodness sake be careful of what you promise her. She'll cut and run the moment she knows you're not keeping your word...and believe me when I say she's very good at spotting the signs. Amirite? Yes, I am. Whozagoodboyden?"

There was a tiny mewl, followed by a very contented purr. Ignis pursed his lips.

"Speaking of wild things, you really should take your own advice," he said, cautiously eyeing the baby coeurl rubbing itself against Gladio's boots. The thing was half-starved to death when the Royal Bodyguard discovered it, after being abandoned by its mother for being the runt of the litter. He'd brought it back to the Citadel, and introduced it to a mother cat who'd just given birth. She'd instantly adopted it, and now it was running around the Glaives' training yard, thinking that it too was a kitten.

Ignis had already lost count the times Gladiolus had brought home strange - and potentially dangerous - pets, and had also been privy to the tearful separation - mostly in Gladio's part - when it came to releasing said animal back into the wild.

"You're exposing the other kittens to a potential risk. What if it accidentally electrocutes them?"

"Young coeurls can only start usin' their whiskers from age one onwards. This lil' guy is barely three months. Look at him. How can you look at this dumb fluffball and not want to be friends with him?"

"When I think that he'll turn into a 200-pound killing machine?"

"Aw, don't listen to the mean man. He just doesn't know how awesome you are, eh Milo?"

"Oh, please don't name it," Ignis groaned. "You know it's even harder to let go once you do that."

The baby coeurl gnawed on Gladiolus's fingers as he tickled its belly.

"Aranea, she's...the kind who demands nothing and yet expects everything," he said, wincing slightly when the coeurl's claws cut a bit too deeply into his skin. "She wants loyalty? You give her 1000%. She wants acceptance? Well, you give her just that. But what she values the most? Honesty. If you can't look at her in the eye and tell the truth, then she's as good as gone."

"That's what I have been to her all this time! What else does she expect?"

Gladiolus sighed deeply, as if thinking that Ignis had missed the point.

"Met this guy once. He breeds fighter dogs and puts 'em in tournaments. All very illegal, of course. Anyway, he's got this butt ugly mutt. Clearly has seen better days. One eye's missin', ears all chewed up, body like a goddamn mangled carpet. Walks with a permanent limp too. Now normally dogs like that will get put down coz' they don't bring in any profit, see? I asked that guy what's so special about the mutt. He told me three men tried to kill it. It chewed the hand off one guy, bit another in the family jewels, and the last guy lost his nose. Literally."

"What's your point?"

"I'm sayin' Aranea's that dog. You try to corner her, she'll fight you to the death. Give her lotsa space, let her be in control of the situation, and she won't see you as a threat. Ya savvy?"

Ignis wrinkled his brows. He obviously didn't. "A threat? Are you saying that she thinks I might hurt her?"

"Booyah! The boy finally gets it!"

"I-I think I do. But at the same time I don't. What?"

Gladiolus had to do a double take. Ignis had always seemed so confident, so sure of everything; but now he just seemed so...lost. It was sad, really. His old friend reduced to this uncertain thing, questioning his every next step. Gladiolus perfectly understood why.

It's hard to be objective when your own heart and soul's at stake here.

"Listen: she says that people change, right?" said Gladiolus. "Things change? Those're her very words? Well, she'd just witnessed her Mr. Right morph into Mr. Fucking Asshole. And then she's got you. Another potential Mr. Right Now-"

"Right Now?"

"Yeah. Right Now until you too turn asshole-y and once that happens, she'll pack up and leave. What? Ya think she's gonna stick around for another stupid schmoe who can't or won't treat her right? Hell, she's probably thinkin' that she might be making the same mistake all over again."

"Well, there's no way of being certain until we both give it a try, isn't there?"

"That's what you gotta make her understand. Convincing her with words ain't enough. Gotta show her with actions. But for now? You wait."

Ignis said nothing. Gladiolus cast him a sidelong look. The man was obviously ruminating over his words.

"Sooo…" said Gladiolus tentatively. "Ya gonna do it?"

"Do what?"

"The prenup. When - no - if ya decide to marry her. I mean, love is fine and all, but you still gotta protect your assets. You've worked too long and too hard for what you've got. It's both a smart and stupid decision...dependin' on how you see it."

"After that meltdown I've witnessed? I think she'd already made it clear how she felt about it."

"She's one tough broad, I can give ya that. Would've banged her if you hadn't gotten to it first. What?" he challenged when Ignis gave him a sharp look. "It had to be said, okay? Anyone with half a brain could see how hot she is. A real handful, but still smokin' hot. Just the right type for you. If it ain't challenging, you'd never have bothered with her in the first place. I know you, Iggy."

"She isn't some game that I hunt for sport, Gladio!"

"I know that, dumbass. I'm just sayin' that you wouldn't settle for a wilting flower. That's just ain't your style. Still - I gotta ask this: when push comes to shove, do you know what your priorities are?"

"What kind of question is that?" Ignis asked testily. "Of course I know!"

"Just makin' sure ya still remember your oath. 'Coz with Noct, it's 'till death do us part' too. You've already said 'I do' and exchanged rings with him first. We all did. Aranea and Julian...well, they just gotta learn to accept that."

"And what does that make me any different from Ardyn?"

Gladiolus shrugged. He had an answer to that, of course. But he wanted Ignis to come up with his own. "Them's the breaks. It's been our lot since day one. Tough concept to swallow, I know, but...why d'ya think the Marshal never got married?"

"First you tell me to play to her tune, now you're telling me not to prioritize her," said Ignis in mild exasperation. "Which one is it?"

"Hey, I'm just givin' you two doors, man. Both leading to completely different sets of reality. What you do next is entirely up to you."

Ignis watched as the baby coeurl padded over to him, sniffing curiously at the tips of his shiny shoes. It took a half-hearted swipe at him, and its claws got stuck into the fabric of his trousers. It tried to free itself, but lost balance and fell flat on its face instead. Gladiolus chuckled, looking like a proud father watching his baby walk for the first time.

With a click of his tongue, Ignis bent over to extricate its paw. He wasn't about to let a silly furball ruin his pristine trousers.

The baby coeurl rolled onto the ground, as if enticing him to play with it. When he ignored the invitation, it lost interest and got up to look for other fun and interesting things.

He was beginning to understand Gladio's fascination with wild animals.

You respect it. Admire its beauty. Its power. But by no means never ever lower your guard. See it as what it is: this magnificent thing that could literally slice your face off.

Maybe with Aranea he should be like that too.

Ignis's brows were like dark stormclouds looming in the horizon. If there's a spot on the map that could aptly describe him right now, they'd usually be marked by a big red 'X', followed by the saying 'Here be dragons'. There'd be skull and crossbones signs too, placed for good measure. If that wasn't enough to deter clueless travelers, then nothing else will.

The migraine had been pounding on his left temple since early this morning. What started out as minor pinpricks of irritation, had bloomed into spikes of white-hot pain lancing over his brow and stabbing his eyeball mercilessly. It felt as if his brain was trying to pour itself out through his ears. Not even two doses of painkillers could help ease this vice-like sphincter around his head. Oh, if only he could just knife himself in the eye and bring an end to this misery! The sunlight, usually a welcome presence in his office, had now become his nemesis. He blinked, once again irritated at how bright the windows seemed to be. There was even a faint corona around the edges of his vision, pulsing and distorting with every beat of his veins.

A wave of nausea rolled over him. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and forced himself to focus on the Crownsguard standing before him. He was young, this Crownsguard, barely past his twentieth year. Was Ignis like him at this age? All nervous and sweaty and eager to please his superiors? Was this how he looked at King Regis back then? Come to think of it: could this person be lying about his age? He seemed more like he was seventeen, what with his acne problem and proclivity to roll himself on the balls of his feet as if he was a child reciting for a school play. It suddenly dawned on Ignis that the recruits were really getting younger as he was getting older.

He resisted the urge to bark the order to stand to attention. The young man was nervous, and how nervous he was could be measured by the number of 'umm's he uses in his sentences. Agitating him further would only increase the frequency of 'umm's.

"Repeat again what you just said, only with lesser sentences," he said. His tone could cause frost to curl upon windowpanes.

"Umm…"

"If you could tone down the 'umm', I would appreciate it greatly."

His instincts had told him that Aranea was trustworthy. But he was told by others that she was untrustworthy. Such a betrayal he had committed, all in the name of his king. He knew he could've just asked her outright, and she would've answered as honestly as she could.

Her military records had been too perfect, too truncated to be taken at face value. There were discrepancies within the timeline, empty spaces that didn't quite connect one thing with the other. The events leading to her escape from the Academy were never documented, nor were the actions taken as a follow-up to that incident. Surely a doctor could provide professional input at this point - inside her psych eval report, at least.

So he had her observed, discreetly. Never by a large team. Just two green Crownsguards. It'd be good field experience for them. Their reports of her had been tame. She'd gone to the convenience store, she took the monorail, she went to the Citadel for meetings and presentations. Just the usual humdrum of daily life. It seems like Aranea had fully slipped into her civilian's skin and had no intention whatsoever to go back into her former life. He didn't blame her. He understood her desires, even. He even understood why she never talked about that part of her to him. There's no point in sharing shame, or pain, when you're trying your best to put it behind you.

But still...

"So me and Pollux were watching her, alright? It was my turn, um, 'coz he already did the night shift. Um, we saw her exit the building and walk to the convenience store. She came back out with breakfast, but instead of going back into the apartment, she crossed the road and went straight to our car! I-I mean...I was shocked and all. None of the training manuals said anything about this, sir."

"You don't say?" murmured Ignis, with twisted irony showing from a finely-raised brow.

"So she knocked on the window. I woke Pollux up 'coz she might go behemoth-shit on us. Security precaution and all that so…"

"Go on."

"She gave us doughnuts."

Silence, as the true magnitude of the truth started to slowly sink in like a rock.

"I beg your pardon?" said Ignis, with measured patience. It suddenly occurred to the young Crownsguard that the more polite Ignis sounded, the angrier he really was.

"Doughnuts, sir," the boy - Ignis wouldn't deign to call him a man yet - repeated. Then, with the determined air of someone ready to say the truth come what may, he added: "It was strawberry-flavoured."

"My, what an interesting point of observation."

"Um-"

Ignis sighed deeply. His tolerance was hanging by a flimsy thread, and when he spoke, he spoke with the vehemence of a thousand deities and the full weight of their wrath: "So help me God, if I hear another 'um'..."

"Sh-shesheshe j-just started asking us questions, sir!" the Crownsguard stammered. "About who we are, about our mums, when are we going back for the holidays, that kinda thing. She's really just super nice and friendly. Frankly I dunno why you're even watching her-"

"What was that?" Ignis rapped out sharply. He wasn't like Cor. He doesn't tolerate lip from his subordinates.

"Sorry, sir! She gave us coffee and-and muffins too...with nuts. Sadly Pollux couldn't have any 'coz of his little problem…"

"Did she say anything else?"

"She asked who gave us the order to tail her, but of course we couldn't say. Classified information and all that."

"So much for a covert operation," Ignis muttered.

"But then she sorta knew…? I mean, I swear we told her nothing!"

"I believe you. After that what happened?"

"She said, she said…" the young man burbled.

"Yes?"

"Sh-she just leaned over and told me to say: Tell Scientia he's in deep shit." And because he somehow felt that a certain amount of decorum was in order, he added: "Er, sir."

The clock on the wall went tick tock. The Crownsguard's soles scuffed against the floor as he tried to maintain a proper stance. But he was so nervous and the Royal Advisor was looking at him like he was some disgusting creature that had just crawled out from the cesspool and oh God, he's so gonna get into trouble for this...he just knew it.

But whatever righteous punishment that was about to come upon him was stalled, when the door suddenly opened and in walked Aranea, marching boldly as she pleases, with the clear air of stating that whatever it was occupying Ignis right now - be it a national crisis or an apocalypse - he'd have to stop whatever he was doing and tend to her first.

"Ah, Caius," she said pleasantly, addressing the young man. "Nice to see you again. Now, fuck off. I've got business with him."

The young man sent a pleading look towards Ignis, who huffed and nodded. "I expect a full report in writing by tomorrow morning."

"Yessir!"

He fled the radioactive confines of the Royal Advisor's office, glad that he'd escaped with his skin and vital organs intact.

Ignis laced his fingers together. "How may I help-" he began.

A sheaf of photos fluttered towards him, some hitting him squarely in the face.

"-you?" he finished.

O-kay...so this is turning out to be that kind of meeting, then.

"You had me tailed," she growled. "Didja tap my phone too? Put hidden cameras in Noct's apartment? Make a recording of every damn thing I say? Let your men watch while we fuck?"

"I did none of that sort, I assure you."

She took a seat without waiting for his invitation, swinging her feet up and planting them onto the table, right on top of a stack of paperwork. She even had the brazen cheek to shoot him a challenging stare, as if saying: You may scare the living shit out of your staff, but I'm not afraid of you.

"Why did you do it? Are you dumbasses still hung up on the possibility that I might go rogue on you? Y'know, since everyone's expectin' it to happen, why don't I just do it for real, huh? Try to murder Noct with dental floss, or a Moogle soft toy. Yeah, I could see that working out perfectly."

When he spoke, the ominous creaking of thin ice could be heard in his tone. Enunciating each syllable clearly, he gritted out: "Get your feet. Off the table. Now."

She ignored him. "You could've just asked."

"Would you have answered? Honestly?"

"I might've. Eventually."

"See, that's where it doesn't work for me. I don't deal with maybes and eventualities. I deal with facts, and everyday I have to deliver them. I can't bloody well say you don't need to be observed without offering a valid reason why. Our relationship notwithstanding-"

"Relationship?" she sputtered in disbelief. "We bang our privates together! It can't get anymore relative than that!" She caught his expression, and added: "What, you think there could be something more to this? Hell, no! Especially when you've made it abundantly clear that you don't trust me! If we can't have that, what makes you think we even have a relationship? Because of Julian? He's just a...an excuse. You think you have the answers, but you're lookin' at the equation wrong."

Ignis had had enough. He was tired, his brain was exploding, and he really had no mental nor physical capacity to deal with this right now. "What then, is the right answer, pray tell? What sacrificial lamb could be offered upon the altar that would appease the ire of the great Aranea Highwind?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. She didn't even know what was worse: him being on the defensive, or him going beyond the point of caring and not even bothering to put up a fight anymore. She wanted him to push her back, dammit. Get that familiar rise out of her so that she could properly be angry at him instead of having this feeling of intense hurt and isolation.

"Do not, for even one measure of an instance, assume that I am beyond reproach in this matter," he said. "When it comes to the king, it is not just my decision alone. It is one of many. I have gone under intense scrutiny the moment my association with you has been let known. There's always a play, an angle that could be foreseen, and one misstep could prove disastrous for all. The royal court is no place for fairytale whimsies, as you and your overtly cynical mind had long ago surmised. Well, I for one concur. However, as much as I want you to believe that I trust you, those other men and women who also act as the king's advisor do not. I may bear executive authority on certain areas, Aranea...but with Noct's security I only play a partial part. So no - the idea to put you under observation wasn't mine per se. As it is, his safety is of the highest order, and it is my duty...my obligation to see it through."

They clashed gazes for a while. She was the first to look away. Shaking her head, she said: "You're just like Ardyn."

It was a riposte that cut so deeply that Ignis was momentarily stunned. How could she? How dare her? To even compare him to that lunatic?

She got up and went to the door. Pausing for a moment, she turned to him. "Y'know, I'm thinking that maybe with Julian we should just share joint custody."

There was a ringing in his ears which made him question what he just heard. Is she...really saying what he thinks she's saying?

She shrugged. "Like he spends a fortnight with you, and then another fortnight with me. Or alternate weekends. Whatever works."

He finally managed to move his tongue. "This is madness, Aranea."

"I know. What's crazier is us getting involved without really knowing each other. I'm not gonna go through that again."

"Aranea, I-" He felt a poker-hot stab of pain as he got up, forcing him to sit down again.

She was already gone.

She made her way to the elevators, eyes stinging with unshed tears. Cor was already there, with a group of people. He spotted her, looked at her up and down, and took note of the dark expression on her face. Whatever problems she's having, he's definitely not going to get himself involved.

The corners of her mouth set into a determined line. Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Things couldn't possibly get anymore shittier than this, right?

She marched up to him, and punched him right in the face.

Next episode: Aranea's confession.