Iris bunched up the edges of her dress in her fists as she waited, unable to help herself.

She stared at the double doors, and had kept her eyes trained on them ever since Gladdy left, but no one had come in.

"I have to get back. Wait here."

The sitting room was tiny, and she'd been sitting at the edge of a couch for what felt like forever, trying hard not to bite her lip or glance at the garden through the wall length windows beside her.

"Be polite, and don't do anything with or to his princeliness that I'll hear about later, alright?"

Iris tightened her hold on her dress.

What if he didn't like her? What if she said something she wasn't supposed to and made him mad? What if he didn't want her to be his Shield?

"He or one of his attendants will bring you back at dinnertime, and then we'll go home."

Iris startled when the door started to move, to open, and she might've squeaked a little.

She saw the crownsguard's hand first on the handle, then he pushed the door back until it touched the wall and pressed his back to it.

Iris scrambled to stand, straight-backed, hands folded in front of her.

"Iris Amiticia of House Amiticia, your highness," the crownsguard announced, eyes on the wall.

Iris held her breath as the prince stepped into the room, dressed in a button-down shirt. His eyes roved around, finally landed on her, and she stiffened.

"T-Thank you for your time, your highness," she said, and curtsied, like Jared taught her the night before, holding out the bottom of her dress.

She saw his shoes as he came closer and looked up—only to see him curtsying back at her.

"Arcturus Lucis Caelum, your..." he paused to think. "Your Shieldness."

Iris stared at him. "You're not supposed to curtsy. Only lady's curtsy."

"Noct says that too, but I don't like to bow or curtsy," he said, and his smile made her eyes widen. "I like handshakes the best."

Iris felt flustered and lost as he held his hand out to her.

He shrugged when she didn't take it. "It's okay if you don't want to."

"No! I mean—yes, I want to," she said, squeezing her dress again. "But Gladdy—he said I should be polite and I don't know if—it's not polite to shake hands with a Prince."

"Why not?"

Iris shook her head hard. "Friends shake hands. Y-your highness. If we shake hands, I'll be rude, and I don't want to be rude."

"But you're my Shield, so we're already friends," he said back.

Iris stared at him again. "We are?"

"If I don't know you, then you can't protect me, 'cause I don't like strangers much," he said, wrinkling his nose. "And then you can't be my Shield."

"I am," Iris said, with an intensity that surprised herself and him.

Arcturus held his hand out again. "Then shake."

Iris looked at his palm, swallowed, and slowly raised her hand to his. She did squeak when he firmly took her hand and shook it up and down.

He grinned at her, and she found herself hesitantly smiling back at him.

"Call me Arc," he said, and she stilled.

"Your highness?"

"Arc," he emphasized, leaning close.

Iris glanced at their joined hands. "A-Arc," she squeaked again.

He nodded, satisfied, and turned her hand to look at a scabbed cut down her palm. "How long were you waiting for me?"

"Forever," she blurted out, then slapped her hand over her mouth.

Arc frowned. "You don't have to. You should just come and get me."

Iris shook her head. "People would talk."

He looked like he wanted to say something to that, then reconsidered. "Let's go to the garden. I want to show you something." He turned without waiting for her response and she stumbled a little as he pulled her towards the windows at the back of the room.

"Wait," she said, digging her heels in. "We should go to the training room, shouldn't we?" she asked, hesitant. "That's what Gladdy does. I think."

"You're not Gladio, and I'm not Noct," he dismissed, and reached for a handle she hadn't seen before.

The window was a door.

Iris pulled her hand away. "I just want to be a proper Shield."

"You already are," he said, just like that, and her eyes widened at him.

It made her feel warm.

Arc opened the door, looking at her as he held it open, and she shuffled outside.

"Gladdy told me you had blond hair," she told him.

Arc waved through the glass, and she saw that the crownsguard was moving to go back out into the hall. She watched him pause, then wave back, briefly, as the door closed.

"Dad says it gets darker every time he sees me," he responded. He reached for her hand again, looking at her to make sure it was okay, and she squeezed his palm.

He smiled wide. She stared up and up at the curved glass roof.

"Will your eyes get darker, too?" she asked.

He paused like the question perplexed him. "I don't know."

She held her other hand out so her fingers could brush against red and purple petals as they passed flowerbeds. "It's really pretty here."

"I guess so."

Iris gasped. "You guess? They're the prettiest flowers I've ever seen."

"I didn't say I didn't like them," he grouched, stepping over a hole in the stone path.

"Yes you did!"

He huffed. He stopped in place, and she stepped up next to him. Her mouth fell open when she saw the kitty pawing at a bush with red, spindly flowers.

"You have a kitty?"

The cat startled at her voice and started to move back—

"No, no, wait. I'm sorry," she begged, forgetting all about her dress as she got down on her knees.

Arc took a step closer and paused. The cat didn't move. He did it again, and again, until he was in front of the cat. She watched him carefully kneel and slowly run his hand down its back.

He gestured her closer as he did, and she hurried to crawl to him.

The cat shifted back, away from her, and she felt a little heartbroken.

"It's not my cat," Arc denied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded napkin. The cat immediately pawed at his knees to get at it, and he raised his hand higher. "I just feed it. That's why it likes me."

"How'd it get in here?" she asked, watching as he dumped a handful of wet-looking meat on the grass.

"There's a hole," he answered, patting the cat. "We'd find it if we kept going this way."

Iris frowned. "I want to pet it."

Arc glanced at her. He took her hand, rubbed the slimy residue on the napkin off on her palm, and held it out to the cat. "I don't think it would let you. It doesn't trust you yet."

"But this will make it trust me?" she asked, as the cat licked at the grass.

"No," he said, poking its side to get its attention. "But it'll think you have food, and come to you, and then you can earn its trust."

Iris stilled as the cat tentatively sniffed at her fingers. "Is it a boy or girl?" she whispered.

"Dunno, but Noct named it Mr. Cactuar."

The tongue wasn't soft like she thought it would be, but rough against her palm. Iris didn't move and didn't dare breathe.

"Noct—Noctis knows?" she asked, even quieter.

"Yeah. He says he doesn't like cats, but he wouldn't let me name it."

Iris watched the cat move back and curl up in front of Arc's knees. "We can't ever tell anyone the hole is there."

Arc smiled again and held up his pinky. "I won't ever, if you don't tell Noct that I told you its name."

Iris wrapped her pinky around his. "Deal."

x

x

Ignis watched through a window as a man he didn't know but recognized as part of the Kingsglaive exited the passenger seat of an unassuming car, then opened the back door.

Noct stepped out.

The car was intended to pass under the radar, he knew, otherwise cameramen and women would've already been perched further down the sidewalk.

"It's a rare sight to see you so nervous," Uncle said behind him, but he didn't turn.

He watched Noct, followed by the Kingsglaive, walk up the steps to his front door.

"I'm not," Ignis denied, brushing invisible specs of dust off his shirt.

"You've been at that window since before your aunt left for work," he pointed out. "I imagine you'd be there long after I headed off, as well."

Ignis purposefully stepped away from the window. He couldn't see Noct anymore, anyway, which meant he and the Kingsglaive were in the entryway. "I haven't been there all morning. Only most of it."

Uncle smiled faintly, in the middle of wiping his glasses off with a piece of cloth. "So, the Prince is outside, is he?"

The doorbell answered him, and Ignis positioned himself closer to the archway leading into the kitchen.

"And here I thought, for a brief moment, that all the ingredients you carefully laid out meant you intended to practice your cooking for us again," Uncle said, unmoved.

"Uncle," Ignis stressed.

Uncle, finally, put his glasses back on and went to let Noct in. His face slipped into a mask of practiced neutrality as he turned the knob and bowed slightly.

"House Scientia is honored to welcome you, Prince Noctis," he greeted, all traces of the teasing Uncle gone. "I hope our home is suitable to you."

Ignis mimicked the bow, albeit a little deeper.

Noct stepped inside but didn't respond. It might've seemed like rudeness to other people, but Ignis knew that Noct disliked nothing more than being talked to like a Prince, regardless of the fact that he was one.

Noct slipped out of his jacket. "I hope so, too," he muttered.

"Nyx Ulric, sir," the Kingsglaive said, fisting a hand over his heart. "I'll be acting the part of the prince's personal guard dog for the day."

"To err on the side of caution, would it not be proper for you to ask for my identification, perhaps before the prince entered a foreign premises?" Uncle asked.

Nyx only smiled. "I'd like to think a kidnapper wouldn't be so obvious."

Uncle held out a hand as Noct looked around for a place to put his jacket, and he handed it over.

Ignis could tell, immediately, that Uncle didn't like Nyx, but was far too proper to ever let it show on his face.

"I'm here," Noct said, skirting around the couches and the rug that made up his living room. "What did you invite me all the way over here for?"

Ignis adjusted his glasses. "Yes, well, I wanted to talk to you. Privately."

"And we couldn't do that at the Citadel because...?"

Ignis didn't say anything for a moment. "Come with me," he told him, then gestured him into the kitchen.

Noct stopped in the archway to look at the thick slices of bread, tomatoes, lettuce, and other items on the counters while Ignis squirted a generous amount of hand sanitizer on his hands and up his arms as he rolled up his sleeves.

"What's all this?" Noct asked.

"I thought that while you were here we could, perhaps, make something you'd like to eat," Ignis answered, and held out the bottle for Noct to take.

Noct glanced at the counters again, and then stepped forward with a sigh. "You didn't answer me." He took the bottle but didn't clean his hands.

Ignis faced the counters. "You can say it was a test of our relationship, of sorts. I feel like you've been avoiding me. If you came, well, that told me that we were still friends. If you didn't, I suppose I would've had to come up with a bigger apology."

Noct looked at the bottle. "I wasn't. Not on purpose. I've just been spending a lot of time in Ravus' room."

Ignis had known that, too. "You asked, and I answered," he said. "Will you help me?"

Noct sighed again but cleaned his hands. "We could've just picked up something. I was going to ask dad if we could have sushi for dinner."

Ignis paused and waited.

"I was going to try to ask dad. If he wasn't too busy for me," he muttered after a second.

Normally, Ignis would have tried to reassure Noct, but he didn't quite know where they stood anymore. He didn't feel like he'd been a good friend, as of late.

He picked up a cutting knife and a tomato and handed both items to Noct, who looked down at them like they were foreign beasts.

Despite being able to handle a practice sword with some ease.

It was Ignis' turn to sigh. "Use the cutting board to cut it into thin slices. It doesn't particularly matter how thin, as long as you don't make them too thick."

Noct stared at the counter. "Cutting board?"

Ignis shook his head. "Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless." He got behind Noct and pushed him in front of the counter with the cutting board and tapped his finger against it.

"Right." Noct did not move.

"You know how to use knives, Noct."

Noct glanced at said knife. "I don't feel like I do, anymore."

Ignis confiscated both items, put them on the cutting board, and shoved him out of the way.

Noct stumbled a little, but only looked relieved. "You're making sandwiches?" he asked, wandering over to the bread slices while Ignis worked on the tomato.

"You like the ones from gas stations the most for some reason. Even more so than professionally prepared ones. So I thought to attempt to replicate that Garula one you had the other day."

"It didn't have tomatoes," Noct pointed out.

Ignis ignored this.

"And the bread was softer."

He tightened his grip on the knife. "I'm working with what I have," he said through his teeth.

Noct stepped up next to him, picked up a tomato slice, and ate it raw. "You should put them on the side," he advised.

Ignis glared at him, but Noct didn't even blink.

"If you want one to your specific standards, then you can make it."

Noct backed off and held his hands up.

It was almost normal. Had Ignis really been the only one agonizing over their friendship?

He sighed again and put the knife down. "I also invited you here, in person, so I could apologize."

"For what?" Noct asked, sucking on his fingers.

Ignis dropped his head in his hands. "It doesn't appear to matter, but for my actions when Gladio and I came to Prince Ravus that first time."

Noct paused. "Why?"

"You know why."

Noct didn't immediately speak. "It wasn't a big deal," he finally said. "I say stuff to you I don't mean all the time, but you don't make me feel bad for it."

Ignis faced him. "It was different."

"How?" Noct asked but didn't look away from his fingers.

Ignis shook his head. "You yelled at us, at me. I've never heard you raise your voice, Noct."

Noct moved around him to pick up another tomato. "Just let it go, Iggy. I'm not mad."

Ignis silently watched him. Noct still wouldn't meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, regardless, for failing you. I knew it was affecting you, but I didn't see how much."

Noct looked away from him.

"You don't have to talk to me about any of it," he soldiered on. "But I want you to know that I'll always be on your side, even if my words don't properly convey that."

"Is my dad a good King, Iggy?" Noct asked suddenly, so much so that Ignis was left floundering.

"Well, yes, but why—"

"Even if he doesn't always choose Insomnia?"

Ignis' eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone says that I should be a good King, but I don't know what that means. A King protects his people. A King tries his hardest to keep everyone safe. A King tries to be fair, but not soft. A King never bows out of what he begins," Noct rambled, his voice uneven. "But if my dad doesn't always do that—is he a bad King?"

Ignis stopped. It wasn't what he asked, exactly, but he'd also just told Noct that he didn't have to talk to him if he didn't want to. He considered himself, his position; what he should say, what Noct might want to hear.

And then he threw that all out the window and decided to give his honest opinion. "A proper King makes no attempt to abide by what is morally good, or morally bad," he eventually spoke. "A King isn't a symbol. A King is a person, and people make mistakes, or do bad things for good reasons. I made a mistake with you, and if your rigid system of good and bad was the right one, it shouldn't be possible for me. I might not be King, but I am the Hand of the future King. I have a hard time believing that even in that future, I'll be perfect."

Noct stared at him.

Ignis sanitized his hands again. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah," Noct said after a second, and Ignis heard relief in his voice.

"Good." Ignis picked up the knife and held it out to him again. "Because if you want your soft bread, you can cut the rest of the tomato."

Noct looked lighter when he glanced back, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Oddly enough, Ignis felt better, too.

"You're a slave driver," Noct grumbled, but smiled as he sanitized his hands and took the knife.

Ignis cautiously left him too it, because surely Noct couldn't do too much damage when he only had a knife and a half-cut tomato.

Besides, he'd need to somehow convince Uncle they were in dire need of softer bread.

He stepped out into the living room and found Nyx laying across his couch, sock-clad feet up on the arm, idly flipping through TV channels.

Ignis frowned. "Feet off the couch, if you don't mind."

Nyx lowered them to the floor without a single glance at him.

Uncle would be down the hall, in his room or the study, reviewing one report or another. Ignis didn't move.

"I would've thought the Kingsglaive to be more professional," he couldn't help but say.

Nyx paused. He turned the TV off and sat up. "Three main entry points," he said. "There." He pointed two fingers at the door. "There." He pointed at the window. "And the kitchen window." He lowered his hand, turning to face him.

Ignis seriously considered never speaking again.

"But from the way it looked from the outside, there isn't enough room between this house and the one behind it to squeeze into, let alone climb up to the kitchen," Nyx went on, and smiled at his silence. "How old are you, by the way, Hand of the future King?"

"I don't think that's relevant," Ignis said, but couldn't look him in the eye.

"Of course not," Nyx said, shaking his head. He pushed himself up. "But if you insist, I'll physically keep my eyes on the prince. Should probably find a leash so he could hold it too."

Ignis knew his embarrassment was showing on his face, because Nyx started to laugh as he sauntered past him.

"Hey, Prince, know if your buddy's got a dog bowl in here somewhere?"

Ignis took a deep breath, but inside he wanted to perish.

.

.

.

Nyx whistled after taking a bite of his sandwich, appraising it. "If the whole Hand gig doesn't work out, you'd make a great cook."

Ignis said nothing to this, even an hour later still stinging from a mild case of humiliation (and he had little to no interest in cooking anyway, outside of ensuring that Noct didn't starve from lack of ability). He only ate half of his neatly cut sandwich.

"I told you to ignore him," Noct said, because apparently it was quite obvious to everyone at the table why he was quiet. "He did that to me the entire time we were in the car."

Nyx grinned. "Got to find my own entertainment somewhere."

"Perhaps that somewhere can be elsewhere next time," Ignis said.

"Not sure if there will be a next time," he told them, taking another bite. "But I'll keep that in mind."

Ignis had the feeling that he was being teased again, and only closed his eyes.

"Where'd that Uncle of yours head off to, anyway?" Nyx asked, enjoying himself far too much.

"The Citadel," Ignis answered, and saw that Noct had already finished both halves of his sandwich. "He's an economic advisor and has to be there often."

"Ah."

Noct eyed his plate but was just polite enough not to ask for the other half outright. Ignis got the message though, and sighed, but moved the half to Noct's plate.

"Thanks," Noct said, as genuine as someone who'd known he'd do it.

"That mean you're coming back with the prince?" Nyx asked.

"I suppose so."

Nyx paused, eyes shooting to the window next to the door. He was on his feet the second after, his mostly eaten sandwich left behind as he strode towards it.

Noct didn't bother to look up.

"What is it?" Ignis asked in his place.

Nyx pushed aside the curtain. "Looks like... someone caught on that the car out front was more than it seemed and called the press. Time to go."