Part Two: Living in the Dark

Ignis was sure to make breakfast for Prompto and Gladio the next morning, before heading out. He knew it wouldn't placate them, but it was a peace offering of sorts. They sat around a small table in their room, eating in silence. Prompto tried to start a conversation every now and then, going on about dancing with Aranea the night before and whether or not they thought she liked him, but he received only curt answers from Gladio.

Finally, Ignis had it and put his fork down. "If you don't agree with me going, Gladio, that is fine. But we needn't part ways like this."

"Stop talking like you're not coming back," Gladio shot at him. Then, after a moment, "What are you hoping to get out of this? Are you just chasing a nice piece of ass around? Cause that seems like a pretty stupid reason to get killed and fail Noct."

Ignis went rigid with anger. "Of course I'm not chasing a 'nice piece of ass' around. I want to get better. I need to get better. I need to learn to fight with this—with this goddamn condition that I didn't ask for!" The raised voice took the other two by surprise. Ignis rarely shouted. "And, unlike you, Aranea is willing to help me."

"Well…" Gladio softened just a little. "You could have fooled me, with the way the two of you were dancing."

Ignis relaxed too. "It was just a dance. No need to read into it."

"Yeah, and she danced way more with me, for the record," Prompto jumped in, taking the opportunity to ease the tension.

"Fine," said Gladio. "Go and get her to train you, or whatever. But hey, promise you'll look out for yourself, you hear me?"

"I promise."

—

Aranea had already filled up the bike when Ignis arrived at the gas station—there was just enough fuel left for a round trip. He'd brought food supplies, weapons, and a few magic flasks, and they picked up a selection of curatives at the shop. Neither of them spoke about the night before, instead making small talk and focusing on the task at hand as they secured everything to the bike.

"All right partner, ready to hop on?" asked Aranea.

"Indeed. I presume you know how to ride one of these?"

"Of course. I didn't always have an airship."

Aranea jumped on the bike and turned it on. Ignis carefully found his way onto it behind her. His helmet accidentally clanked against the back of hers.

"Watch your head. And hold on tight!"

She sounded almost giddy, like she was setting out on an adventure—not a daemon-slaying mission in a post-apocalyptic world, but a real, exciting adventure. Like Ignis did a few months ago. He wrapped his hands around her waist as she revved the engine and sped off.

—

Ignis found the bike ride nerve-wracking at first. He was completely at the whim of Aranea, and she liked her speed. But after the first stretch, he began to trust her judgment and even started to enjoy himself. The wind was blowing in his face, which brought him back to the Regalia, and he imagined he was driving. In his mind, it wasn't dark outside, but a beautiful morning. The sounds of daemons lurking about were nothing more than harmless animals grazing. He hadn't felt this free since before everything in Altissia happened. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

The ride took the good part of a day, so they stopped whenever they needed a quick break, as long as there were no daemons about. They would have a snack, Aranea would update Ignis with anything of interest that she'd seen on their ride, banter about who the better driver is (Ignis insisted it was still him), and then carry on. They soon developed a comfortable routine, and Ignis looked forward to hopping back on the bike after a break—and setting his hands on her waist again.

Despite these distracting thoughts, he knew he had to keep his mind on the task at hand. This was about learning to live with his condition, not about the woman he was holding on to. He wasn't naive though; he couldn't deny the flutter he felt from being so close to a beautiful woman like Aranea—and he certainly remembered she was beautiful. He had noticed her lips first, peachy against her pale skin and curving into a mischievous smile, and then her eyes, which were almost innocent and doe-like when she wasn't challenging someone to a fight. He found himself looking for every memory he had of her face and cataloging it so he wouldn't forget any detail he had noticed.

Aranea slowed down the bike and entered some rugged terrain. After a few minutes, she pulled over and turned off the bike.

"Here we are, at the campsite," she announced. "Everything still looks good from here, no daemons around—at least not right now. We should build a fire and get the lights going though. Then we can get started with some training."

The campsite was a flat, raised area that had been outfitted with bright lights placed in a circle around its circumference to keep daemons at bay. Since they ran off batteries, they had to be used sparingly, only when hunters were staying on the grounds. A fire also had to be built as backup in case the lights failed.

It was late evening by the time Ignis and Aranea finished setting up camp. They were tired and needed rest, so the daemon-slaying would have to wait till the following day. They had a brief training session, focusing on defending against Aranea's stealthy attacks. She posed a challenge at first, getting most of her attacks in, but Ignis slowly began to pinpoint the sounds that gave away where she was and how she was approaching—the vibration of her footsteps, the air from her moving arms, her trailing scent. By the end of the session, he was defending and parrying more often than not.

"Great job, partner," she said breathlessly, removing her armor. "I gotta say, I'm impressed. I was worried at the beginning, but I swear you're developing eyes on the back of your head."

"I hope you didn't go easy on me," Ignis replied, sheathing his daggers.

"Not a chance. I never go easy on anyone—blind or not."

Though famished, Ignis resisted Aranea's attempts at wooing him with Cup Noodles and cooked them a hearty and well-seasoned meal of meat and vegetables instead.

"I have to admit, this tastes pretty great," Aranea said with a mouthful of food. "Sorry Cup Noodles, you've been dethroned."

Ignis laughed, pleased with his creation. Unlike fighting, cooking had come back a lot easier and was one of the times he could feel most like himself.

They sat around the fire, eating and talking about how he can continue to sense his surroundings and adapt his techniques. Then, during a moment of silence, Aranea's mood shifted.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Of course."

"Do you regret it? Your sight, I mean."

"There's no point in wasting time regretting. It won't change a thing."

"Sure, but sometimes you've gotta feel angry, right?"

He felt that bubbling feeling again, but didn't want to give it any further acknowledgement. He wanted to change the subject instead.

"What about you. Any regrets?"

"Hmm…" she thought for a moment. "Does a crappy upbringing count?"

"You regret your family?"

"Sure. It's your typical messed-up sob story. Absent father, drunken mother, no siblings… Yeah, I can see how I might regret that."

"That does sound difficult." Ignis agreed, surprised at her candidness. "But if it weren't for those things, you probably wouldn't be who you are now."

Aranea shrugged. "Would that be the worst thing? I'm sure I could have turned out better. Trust me, I'm far from perfect."

"Striving for perfection is only suitable in the culinary arts. If people strive for it within themselves, they will be forever disappointed."

"Ever the pragmatist."

They sat in silence again, Ignis considering just how much he wanted to share. To his surprise, he found himself willing.

"My father was also absent and I had no siblings. My mother wasn't a drunk though. She was wonderful."

"Was?"

"Unfortunately, she passed several years ago. It was she that taught me to cook. She worked on King Regis' kitchen staff since before I was born. She loved cooking, and always sat me on the kitchen counter while she worked, explaining everything to me. When I was old enough, I began to help. But she was worried about me not having a male figure in my life, and Regis worried that his son had no friends to help look out for him. My uncle, who happened to be on the King's staff, arranged that I become Noct's "adviser"—if you can call a child that at such a young age."

"So are you so devoted to Noctis because it's your duty or cause you grew up with him?"

"It's true that it's my duty. But I couldn't be duty-bound to someone I didn't believe in. Noct is the closest thing to family that I have."

"And Gladio and Prompto."

"Yes, of course."

"You should consider yourself lucky then. That's three more than I have."

"Surely a woman like yourself would have no trouble finding someone to, you know… make a family of your own with."

"Ha, can you imagine. Me, a wife and mother? What are we going to do, go daemon-slaying for our family holidays?"

It was true that Ignis had difficulty imagining Aranea with a baby strapped to her. But he also suspected she wasn't as hard-as-nails as she liked to put on.

"I'm fine on my own," she added, but Ignis got a sense that she was saying this to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. "And besides, I'm hardly looking for anything serious during the end of the world."

This he could believe, and understand. "We should probably retire for the night," he suggested.

"Yeah, busy day tomorrow. But look at us. We've done some team training, eaten well, and even got in a heart-to-heart."

"I'd say we're off to a great start, partner."

—

There was plenty of room for both of them in the tent from what Ignis could tell. He made himself comfortable on one side of the mat while Aranea changed into something for sleeping.

"I like to sleep in my underwear, but I guess I don't have to worry about you seeing me," she said.

"Indeed not."

She made herself comfortable to his right, a little closer than he expected. Ignis removed his shades and drifted off slowly, exhausted from the day but happy that he made some progress during training, and also that he could feel Aranea's warmth nearby.

—

Aranea woke first. Her instincts for safety kicked in immediately, and even though she didn't move, she took stock that everything seemed in order outside; the lights were working, the fire was still on, and daemons could only be heard faintly. She then looked to her side, at Ignis' sleeping form. He was on his back, but his face had fallen towards her. She realized he had taken his shades off. She hadn't seen him without his glasses before.

She propped herself up a little and took a closer look at his face. He really was handsome, with a strong jawline and nose, high forehead, and nicely shaped lips. She studied the large scar covering his left eye, and thought it looked like a starburst. There were smaller scars too, one on the bridge of his nose, another on his lower lip. She dared to raise a finger and gingerly trace the starburst pattern of the scar, feeling the tight, smooth skin. Then she realized what she was doing and lay back down, hoping he hadn't noticed.

This had all been so strange to her. When he asked to join her mission, she first assumed he was just trying to get it on with her like many other guys would, and she was ready to tell him off. But he seemed to genuinely want her help, so she obliged. She didn't even know why she'd asked him to dance after. She had a soft spot for Prompto, like the little brother she never had, so it was easy to indulge him. But as she had sat with Ignis, looking so genuinely down at not being able to join in, her heart broke a little—not something she was used to feeling at all.

But even more surprising was how he sprung to life in the middle of the dance floor. In a rare moment of submission she let him lead, though she was not the type to let men—or anyone, for that matter—tell her what to do. And when he pulled her in close, she was almost certain he would kiss her. Her heart was nearly bursting out of her chest in nervousness and anticipation, but then he made a passing comment and pulled away. She collected herself, vowing to keep things simple from then on.

So what was she doing here now, tracing the scar on his face while he slept?

—

After a filling breakfast that Ignis insisted on, they set out on their mission. Aranea still found it strange to be eating breakfast and starting the day when it was so dark. Ignis said he just pretended it was a beautiful dawn and that the days still changed from light to dark to light again. Aranea felt a little jealous that he could continue to live in that belief while she couldn't escape the perpetual night, but thought better of saying anything.

The reported daemon infestation was about an hour's walk away. They left the bike and supplies in the safety of the campsite, taking only the weapons they needed and Ignis' cane, which he refused to part with, despite Aranea's insistence that he didn't need it. Aside from a few minor skirmishes along the way, the daemons had thankfully stayed few and far between. They had been increasing in number ever since Noctis disappeared into the crystal though, and Ignis suspected they will only multiply over time.

They stayed quiet during the long walk to avoid unwanted attention, but then Aranea whispered, "Do you hear that?"

"Yes… daemons. More of them."

"We're near the road. This must be one of the spots we have to clear. Are you ready?"

"After your impeccable training? I should think so."

The first set of daemons went down easily enough. The second put up more of a fight, but Ignis managed to hold his own and proved to be a great help with taking advantage of the daemons' weaknesses. Aranea moved even more swiftly than in training, so much so that Ignis often wasn't sure where she was until she'd call out instructions to him—"To your right, now!"—and he'd hurl a fireball in the direction.

He was using his daggers too, often slashing into something, sometimes hitting air. He had to focus hard on the telltale signs of where the daemons were, but they made it easier by not being particularly quiet.

After a full day of daemon hunting up the road, Ignis and Aranea were exhausted. There was still another stretch of road to cover, but they had made good headway and decided to leave the rest for the following morning—the daemons were unlikely to respawn that fast. They walked back to camp in silence, taking care to avoid attracting more daemons. Every now and then though, Aranea would reach out to Ignis to guide him over tricky terrain. Though usually impatient and eager, she didn't mind having to look out for him.

—

Back at camp, Aranea sent a quick update on her phone and checked in with Biggs and Wedge. They had almost cleared the roads on their end. She also sent a message to Gladio, telling him that Ignis was not only fine, but proving to be a worthy fighter because, of course, she was an excellent teacher. All she received in response was a simple "good." Not a man of many words, that one, she thought.

After another hour of training that Ignis insisted on, an exhausted Aranea sat and watched him prepare dinner, moving with little trouble at the table where he chopped and mixed and stirred. She imagined he'd fit well into a nice kitchen with a nice family.

"So we talked about how ridiculous I would look as a wife and mother," she said. "But what about you?"

"I think I'd make a fine wife and mother."

Aranea let out her low, throaty laugh. "Well, you are the mom of your group."

"Why do I always get pegged as the mother?"

"Admit it, you like it."

Ignis looked in her direction and raised an eyebrow. It was impressive how he could do that—pinpoint where a person was and throw an expression at them as if he could see them.

The conversation flowed easily throughout dinner. Ignis regaled Aranea with stories of his adventures with the guys, and Aranea shared her best victories and closest calls in battle. They moved on to their childhoods again, and Aranea surprised herself as she shared stories she had never told anyone. Some were difficult for her—but Ignis waited patiently while she tried to find the right words.

Ignis imagined her eyes turning from expression to expression as she spoke. He pictured her biting down on her lips as she tried to contain a strong emotion. He wanted so badly to reach out and take her hand—she was sitting close after all—but he was worried it might make her retreat. She struck him as the type who needed to be approached slowly and carefully, given space to go at her own pace.

And beyond that, Ignis kept reminding himself to keep his feelings in check. She was beautiful, he was still in a vulnerable state, and the world had gone to mayhem. It was easy to want to give in to whatever it was that he felt. But it would only needlessly complicate things, and for what?

He had been so lost in his thoughts and listening to her stories, he didn't even notice when a small section of the lights surrounding the camp went out and Aranea stood up suddenly, at the ready. But she was tired and just a fraction too late, and a flailing daemon jumped her. Ignis snapped out of it at her scream and sprung in her direction, but another daemon appeared and grabbed hold of his leg. He fell, his dinner plate still in hand, but he twisted and smashed it on the daemon's head. Stunned for a moment, it gave him just enough time to reach for a dagger and impale it into the thing. He imagined it went straight through its eye.

He threw the now-limp daemon over the edge of the camp and followed the sound of Aranea's struggle.

"Get them off me!" she screamed.

Ignis reached in to what seemed like a pile of wriggling bodies, pulling them off and stabbing them one by one till Aranea was no longer overwhelmed. She hadn't had a weapon on her and her armor was off, leaving her vulnerable, but now she rolled toward her spear and brutally exacted her revenge on the rest of the beasts.

When they were all gone, she examined the lights and found that the battery for a small section had died out, leaving an opening for the creatures to crawl into the camp. Apparently their fire hadn't been large enough either. She removed the dead section and closed the circle of the remaining lights back up, cutting off a part of their campsite space. She added wood to the fire, then noticed that Ignis hadn't moved from the spot where he was standing.

"It's all fixed now," she said.

"Good. You're not hurt?" Ignis asked.

"Just some scratches. Nothing to be worried about. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

But he didn't seem fine. He looked angry, or scared, or something. He was almost trembling.

"Ignis… Are you sure you're okay?"

He trembled harder, holding his dagger desperately as he stood in the middle of the campsite. "I didn't hear them coming."

"Neither did I."

"But… I need to hear them."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, it was just an accident. The lights were shot."

"No. I should have heard them." That thing was bubbling up again. "I damn well should have heard them." The feeling was getting stronger and he struggled to push it down. "What happens next time if I don't hear them?"

He fought hard against it, but then he was picturing Noctis standing in front of him, daemons springing up from every direction without warning, tearing him to pieces, and he could do nothing. There would be too many for him to keep track of. He would fail. He would fail Noctis. He would fail everyone. And it was all because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time for a split second in Altissia—just one second that seemed so cruel now.

He couldn't keep that bubbling feeling down any longer. He didn't want to. He needed to release it. So he dropped to his knees, let go of his dagger, took off his shades, and covered his eyes with his hands, shoulders heaving.

"It's not fair," he said, almost inaudibly, and then tears streamed down his face.

Aranea walked over and kneeled down in front of him. "It's not," she whispered. She reached out and took his shoulders gently, pulling him towards her. He didn't resist, falling forward into her arms and burying his face in her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and she held him for a long time.

Part 3: Coming soon…