Water Under the Bridge
Is This a Date?
When Aranea arrived home, she half expected to find Ignis waiting for her, but was sorely disappointed when she learned he was gone. Instead, he was off closer to Cape Caem with Gladio and Prompto.
Ignis was on a mission. He was ready to confess his feelings to Aranea. It was time to lay the cards on the table and put his heart on the line. It just so happened that he was also ready to unveil how far he'd come within his culinary accomplishments as well. He wanted to make Aranea a dish that resembled the dream dish she'd talked about years ago—the seafood pasta meal she practically drooled over.
Killing two birds with one stone, he'd cook for her and, over dinner, he'd declare his undying love for her. She'd reciprocate, but not without chiding him for how long it took for him to come to terms with his feelings. They'd lean over the table, kiss passionately, and live happily ever after.
Or, something like that.
With Cor's approval, and with Prompto at the helm, the three piled into an available truck and jetted off to the coast of Cape Caem, where they hoped to encounter a Karlabos—a, now rare, beast whose meat would pair well with the dish that Ignis had in mind. Gladio and Prompto were all too eager to help Ignis as it was incredibly atypical for the three of them to have any time together anymore. They were usually busy with fighting daemons, guarding Lestallum, or heading off to Hammerhead (though Prompto was always up for a trip to Hammerhead if it meant a chance to see Cindy).
The battle against the Karlabos was almost fun and, unexpectedly, easy. They cracked jokes between each link strike, bumping fists and laughing while taking down the crustacean. Ignis moved with no issues, now more accustomed to fighting using only his sense of hearing, very much tuned in to what was going on around him. Every time he landed a hit, Prompto or Gladio cheered.
Once the animal was felled, Ignis closed in on his prey, feeling around and slicing the meat that he'd need. There was so much that he almost debated leaving some behind but, between the three of them, they managed to pack every last bit into the cooler that they could. Afterward, they found a nearby haven and Gladio got to work setting up camp.
Neither one of them cared about the sleep they were foregoing, instead choosing to stay up well into the next day, reminiscing about everything in their lives. Prompto took silly pictures of them and they looked back on the old photographs, with Gladio and Prompto detailing most of the photographs to Ignis so he could remember, too. When a picture of Noctis showed up on the screen, they'd turn serious. The absence of their Prince was raw in their hearts, but they pushed aside their grief, opting instead to rejoice in the memories of their missing friend.
No one felt the least bit upset when it came time to pack up and head home because they knew that it meant possible good things for Ignis. At first, Ignis remained relatively tight-lipped about his plans, not wanting to reveal too much in case his plan went awry. Plus, he didn't want to deal with the teasing he was sure to receive from Prompto and Gladio.
Somehow though, in the middle of the trip home, Ignis let slip his recent dreams of Aranea. It started innocently enough with him just talking about the premise but, the more he talked, the more he realized how much he should have kept quiet about the whole thing. He immediately shut his mouth when he realized what it was he was saying, but the damage was done. There was no turning back from that divulgence.
"A nurse?" Prompto howled.
"How did you keep something like this from us?!" Gladio jeered. He was sitting in the backseat and he pushed Ignis' head forward in jest, but his hand was slapped in retaliation.
"Was she a hot nurse? If you know what I mean?"
"Prompto, eyes on the road," Ignis reprimanded, knowing his friend well enough to know that Prompto was easily distracted when it came to driving. "And that is none of your business."
"SHE WAS!" Prompto screeched as he and Gladio high-fived each other. Ignis just rolled his eye and sunk low in his seat.
He thought that, maybe, both men would grow tired of ragging on him, but the harassment continued until they got home. It got worse as they unloaded the truck, and it reached an infuriating pinnacle when they made their way to their room. They wanted to know everything. It was irritating, but Ignis knew he had no one to blame but himself.
So, he tried to appease them by telling them the more toned-down aspects of his dream, skirting around how sensual it was, though he took care to mention that it was set in an asylum and he was unable to do much of anything while restrained by a straitjacket.
Prompto sneered, nudging Ignis with his elbow. "You know what that sounds like to me? Sounds like you're crazy about Aranea, but you don't feel like you can do anything about it because your hands are tied. Get it? Because it's an insane asylum? And your hands are in the jacket? Get it? Get it?"
"You actually believe that rubbish? That dreams have underlying meanings?"
"Sure I do, especially if believing it means giving a release to those repressed emotions of yours! A dream like this can't be entirely random. Even you can't deny that."
"Oh, for Astrals' sake. You can twist any dream to insinuate a number of different meanings. Don't be foolish," Ignis rebuked.
"Whatever you say, dude."
At the end of the week, once Aranea was settled, Ignis nervously walked down the hall to her room. His heart thundered in his chest and his palms, having foregone wearing his gloves for the day, were slick with sweat. Every few steps, he would start to turn around to go back to his own room, but then would gather the courage to continue. Once he reached the end of the hall, he tugged at his shirt, then his sleeves, then pulled at his collar and raised a fist to knock on the door, quietly as not to disturb the rest of the hall.
The door opened and a voice—not Aranea's—greeted him happily. "Ignis! My Gods, I feel like it's been ages! How are you?!" He felt arms wrap around his abdomen and smiled as he realized it was Iris who answered the door. It wasn't often he spoke to Gladio's younger sister anymore. She'd become one of Lestallum's most sought after daemon hunters, rivaling her brother and even Cor himself.
Ignis returned the hug. "Iris, it's good to hear your voice. I hope you're well?" he asked as she nodded enthusiastically, but then quickly responded with a "yes" instead as he couldn't see her nodding. They both caught up briefly on what they'd been up to as of late. When their conversation ran its course, Ignis almost turned to walk away before remembering why he was there in the first place.
When he asked if Aranea was around, Iris told him no. Aranea was in town for a bit and would be back later, but she wasn't privy to the exact time. Iris promised to let Aranea know that he'd stopped by for her, but Ignis asked instead that Iris let Aranea know that he'd very much appreciate her company come Saturday night, if possible.
He knew Iris had that same Amicitia smirk planted on her face that her brother always got when things were just too funny to let go. She understood what it was that Ignis was implying with this invitation. Once more, and slyly, she agreed to let Aranea know of his message and both hugged each other goodbye.
Saturday came too soon and Ignis was in full-on 'get-stuff-done' mode. He put Prompto and Gladio to work, having them clean and organize their room while he busied himself in the kitchen, eagerly cooking the best seafood pasta dish he could.
It had taken a lot of failed recipes and plenty of emotional breakdowns to get back to this point in his culinary expertise, but Ignis had finally come full circle. To make things easier for him, he made sure that every spice had its place on the counter, every utensil was meticulously set in the drawer by the stove to make it possible to find them, and the pantry, though paltry, was organized to a fault. As long as everything was kept in place and remained relatively unmoved, Ignis found that he was just as good, if not better than before at cooking.
He just prayed that his progressions reflected on the dish he wanted to share with Aranea.
Tonight, while whistling, Prompto ran a rag over the nightstands, consoles, and ledges in the room, leaving no surface undusted. Typically, Prompto was careless in his cleaning, but right now he was trying very hard to clean up to the same standards that Ignis used to clean to. Prompto just wanted everything to be perfect for Ignis and Aranea. He was a romantic at heart.
As he stood on his tiptoes, cleaning shelves that had never seen so much as tchotchke or picture frame, he paused his whistling and sneered, calling out for Ignis' attention. When the advisor looked up, Prompto giggled. "So, how long should we stay gone for? I mean, if we're being realistic, you shouldn't need more than . . . what? Thirty seconds?"
"Excuse me?" Ignis balked at the offensive insinuation, nearly letting the spatula fall from his hands. "What, pray tell, are you implying?"
Gladio picked up a laundry basket from beside the blonde and nudged him as he walked by. "Prom, come on. That's not very nice."
"Thank you, Gladio," Ignis sighed, relieved that his friend had his back.
Gladio stifled a giggle. "We all know a minute should be more than enough time for them."
This comment sent both men into hysterics. Ignis frowned, taking the handle of the pan with all the Karabos meat and flicking his wrist once, twice, three times, tossing the meat in the air so each side was browned and cooked evenly. "You two are absolutely juvenile," he rebuked, but this made them laugh harder.
"Aw, hey now! At least one of us will be getting—"
Just as Ignis tried to stop Prompto from finishing his sentence, knowing where exactly it was headed, Gladio piped up with his own revelation. "Who said he's the only one getting anything?"
Ignis clamped his mouth shut and returned to cooking, not wanting to bring any unwarranted attention back on him while Prompto whirled around, stunned. "Hold up! What the hell? When have you been getting laid? And with who?"
Gladio threw a random sock into the laundry basket and picked the basket up, setting it on his hip and smirking. "Don't worry about it."
"Oh, that's just typical," he snapped. "'Don't worry about it'? You know, you would still have girls lined up to fuck you."
Gladio puffed his chest out proudly. "Girl. One. Singular, thank you very much."
Ignis snorted and Prompto's face fell. "One? One? Sheesh, what kind of twilight zone are we in that Iggy is possibly having sex tonight—" Ignis voiced his protests from his spot by the stove, but he was drowned out as Prompto continued his tirade, "—Gladio is having sex with one girl, and I'm still not getting so much as a wink from Cindy? This is bullshit!"
The larger man placed a heavy hand on Prompto's shoulder in consolation. "Don't worry, man; you still have your hand," Gladio joked as Prompto shoved past him with an irritated 'fuck off' under his breath.
Despite the random quarreling, the three worked together in sync to get the place ready for the evening. There was one more instance where the three were distracted by conversation; Gladio and Prompto asked Ignis if he was going to tell Aranea of his plans to backtrack to the Royal Tombs and dungeons for information on Ardyn.
Ever since the bar and overhearing the conversation between the hunters about Ardyn, it was all Ignis could do not to run out and discover information at any given moment. The thought of that man traversing around the world, unaccounted for, made the hairs on the back of Ignis' neck stand on end. Since then, he had dropped hints here and there to Gladio and Prompto throughout the last month that he was interested in finding out more about the Niflheim Chancellor. At first, when he tentatively brought it up, Prompto and Gladio denied that he'd even find anything at all and they tried to convince him to let the issue go. Telling him to brush it aside did nothing to quell his curiosity and he became insatiable, his inquisitiveness never waning. It didn't matter if he'd find anything worthwhile; he had to try. When the two men asked Ignis again what his plans were as far as telling Aranea of his leaving, his silence was answer enough They went back to cooking and cleaning after that.
The aroma of Ignis' cooking wafted through the air. Gladio and Prompto begged to have one taste, one bite, just a small morsel of what he was making as it had been far too long since they'd enjoyed a proper meal from him. They only withdrew when Ignis swore that he made more than enough, not only for him and Aranea, but the two of them and even Cid as well.
Cid—poor man—had been beside himself cooped up in a new city, his cantankerous personality the talk of the town lately. Ignis knew the seafood he used to cook all those years ago greatly pleased Cid and he hoped this would pacify him for a while.
A few hours later, the room was finally cleaned. The food was simmering on the stove and Ignis requested one of the men—he didn't care whom—to watch it while he stepped away for a quick shower before Aranea arrived. It didn't take long for him to get ready. He combed his hair back and donned some slightly distressed jeans with a white undershirt and gray cardigan, an outfit he rarely wore but remembered at the last minute. He asked Prompto to find said outfit for him in his closet, not wanting to pick out the wrong thing and risk looking incredibly foolish in front of Aranea after all these months.
Upon getting back to the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the faint scent of cologne on his neck and collar, a sharp knock sounded at the door. All three men stopped what they were doing with Prompto and Gladio spinning to look at Ignis. Without looking up from the pan, he pointed languidly and said: "Well, don't be rude; someone get the door for the lady."
Gladio grabbed his book from his perfectly made bed and Prompto checked to make sure he had everything before both headed out, smirks plastered on both their faces. They opened the door and there, looking cute but not overly done up, was Aranea. She opted to wear something a little more low-key tonight: a plain black t-shirt and jeans. Nonetheless, Prompto and Gladio could tell she clearly went out of her way to look good, even if Ignis would be none the wiser.
"We were just leaving," Gladio smiled, stepping aside so Aranea could enter the room. She moved cautiously between the two men as they snickered under their breaths.
Over his shoulder, Prompto waved a hand. "Save some food for us, Iggy! We'll be back later!"
"Don't do anything we wouldn't do!" Gladio added.
"That doesn't leave much for me to do then, does it?" Ignis retorted right as his friends exited, leaving Aranea standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Now alone, to a certain extent, she played with a crisp envelope she'd folded into her back pocket. It was her final letter she was in the middle of writing to Ignis before getting the good news that she was coming home. Instead of sending it by Chocobo, however, she decided she would hand it to him in person today. Maybe. The decision in her mind hadn't been finalized yet.
Aranea almost jumped when Ignis emerged from the kitchenette, a dish towel in his possession to wipe his hands. He smiled knowingly. "Please, make yourself at home."
A pink hue stained her cheeks, her breath catching in her throat as she flinched, tearing her hand away from the envelope. She wasn't sure if it was the time apart or if it was something else, but she had to admit that he looked utterly gorgeous. "Long time no see," she choked out, barely able to maintain a strong façade in front of him.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he quipped, clearly amused at his own joke. When he didn't hear Aranea react, he frowned. "That . . . that was a joke."
At first, Aranea was unsure how to take the jab at his own handicap, but when she saw him finally crack a smile, she grinned in return. "Good to know you haven't lost your sense of humor while I was away. You still think you're so funny."
"My dear, I don't think I'm funny; I know I am."
She clucked her tongue in dismay and rolled her eyes, her hands behind her back as she continued to stand uncomfortably. Ignis smiled, welcoming her to, again, make herself at home as he returned to the stove, checking one last time on the food before deeming it worthy enough to officially plate and serve.
While he was occupied in the kitchen, Aranea strode around the room, wondering if she should take a seat on the bed, the random chair by the entertainment console, or go ahead and sit at the dinner table. Before she could decide, her eyes landed on the drawer of the nightstand, ajar to reveal a stack of tattered and ruined envelopes, marred in their journies across the world.
Her envelopes.
Aranea froze. She hadn't realized he'd actually kept all her letters. In all honesty, she thought maybe he would have tossed them or something. Really, what reason would he have to keep them at all?
Gingerly she knelt down, hovering on the balls of her feet as she took one envelope between her fingers. Indeed, it was her handwriting on the front with an address directly to him. She peeked over the bed to make sure Ignis was still busy with dinner before she pulled the drawer open a little further, her fingers fanning the envelopes out so she could get a better look. They were all there—every last one.
Unreal. She never imagined he'd hold on to them, but he did. It was overwhelming, everything she was feeling at this moment. The final letter in her pocket remained and she wondered if she should sneak it on top of the other ones laid before her or give it to him directly. If she put this one in the drawer with the rest, Ignis would never know and her feelings would remain safe. Then again, it wasn't like he was aware of the extent of her feelings now. That is, unless he had someone else read her letters to him, but that was unlike him to have done.
"Find something of interest?" Ignis' accented voice drawled as he breezed behind her coolly, knowing full well what it was she was looking at.
Quickly, she snapped the drawer shut and stood up, spinning around to face him, self-conscious. "Oh, uh . . . no. Just admiring the woodwork, that's all."
He smirked at her white lie. "Well, when you're finished with that, come have a seat. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised with what I was able to pull together for dinner."
Curious, she cocked her head and shadowed close behind to the table where Ignis put down two plates with the Karlabos meat and pasta dish, almost exactly like the one she described years ago when asked about her favorite food. He smirked with satisfaction, crossing his arms once both plates were set down next to two glasses of water, one for each of them.
"How . . . when did . . . with wh—"Aranea stuttered, absolutely stunned that he went to such great lengths to recreate what she'd yearned for.
Ignis acted as if the entire dinner was no big deal. "I had time on my hands and finally felt confident enough in my abilities to cook again," he explained, pulling out the closest chair to him so she could sit. Aranea was hesitant at first but then she smiled, sitting in the chair as he pushed her in. He continued as he took the seat opposite of her. "Gladio and Prompto, of course, were the eyes of the operation when it came to procuring the necessary ingredients. I ventured a guess that, after all your hard work these last several months, I should prepare you something to take your mind off things. At least, for the next few hours or so."
Aranea was touched. More than touched, actually. When Iris let her know that Ignis wanted her to come by, she hadn't expected any of this. She felt the envelope in her pocket press against her earnestly, daring her to present it to him right then and there. She wanted to. Oh, Gods, how she wanted to. If Ignis could see her, he'd know she was waging an internal battle mere feet from him. As it were, he blindly indicated that it was alright to eat and Aranea ignored the burning urge to hand over the envelope in favor of satisfying her newfound appetite for pasta and seafood.
As they ate, they caught up on the lost months between them. It was like no time had passed between the pair. They teased each other relentlessly, laughed at dumb jokes, and Ignis listened while she told him about her trip back to Lucis. All of this came between bites of food—Aranea praising each bite and repeating how it was the best dinner she'd ever had. Understandably, it wasn't the first time Ignis had ever heard those words from anyone, but it was practically gospel coming from Aranea.
In the midst of another mouthful of food—of which Ignis scolded her for, as it was impolite to speak with one's mouth full—Aranea snickered. "You know, Specs, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this was a date," she tested, pointing the prongs of her fork at him.
The statement caught him off guard. He wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin, trying to remain calm at her accusation. He hadn't intended for this night to come off as a date, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't alluding to any type of romance. After all, wasn't that the entire reason that he got the Karlabos meat, made this fantastic meal, got somewhat dressed up, and invited her over?
When he didn't respond, Aranea laughed, taking his silence for refutation. "Don't worry, I know it's not. You're just trying to be nice, I know," she said, playfulness tinging her words. "Besides, I don't do the dating scene anyway, so you're safe there."
Those were not the words that Ignis was expecting. His carefully laid plan was slowly unraveling at that avowal. "That's quite a bold statement."
Aranea shrugged. "Bold, but true."
Ignis weighed her words, unintentionally scrunching his nose in response. "Surely someone like you has no trouble at all finding a suitable person to date," he remarked, taking a sip of his water and leaning back in his chair.
"No, not at all. It has nothing to do with who wants me, but more of who I want . . . or don't want, rather. Or something. I don't know."
"I'm not following."
Another shrug of her shoulder, this time accompanied with a quick toss of her hair away from her eyes. "I swore off dating, relationships, and that love bullshit a long time ago."
Ignis paused a beat, waiting for her to explain. After remaining quiet, he prompted her with: "And why is that?"
She examined him, seeing that he was genuine about wanting to learn the whys and how's of her choices. "You asked for it." Aranea loudly exhaled and gulped down the rest of her water. "Alright. Well, my last relationship . . . he was everything to me. I mean it—he was my world. We met and went through the Niflheim military training academy together, becoming practically inseparable. Once we graduated the academy, we, along with Biggs and Wedge, made the decision to go on our own and work for ourselves. But we learned quickly that the mercenary life is not for the faint of heart, you know? We were living gil to gil, barely making ends meet. Well, he had the bright idea to commission into the Niflheim military so that we could have a steady life together. I was worried that the military would force him to choose work over me, but he promised me it would never be like that. So, I believed him, against my better judgment, and he commissioned while I remained a mercenary.
"At first, everything was as he said it would be. He was high in the ranks so his schedule was a great compromise between what we both wanted—him getting enough face time in battle and a hefty paycheck, while I still got to see him more often than not. I was crazy in love with him and young and stupid.
"Then, the time came where he was gone more than he was home. The distance and the workload caused us to fight a lot and it always ended with me accusing him of choosing work over me, putting his selfish desires over wanting anything to do with me. Trust me, I know I'm a bitch for even throwing that in his face, but I digress.
"We had one particularly bad fight before he was sent to the frontlines of a Niflheim/Lucian battle," Aranea faded off, becoming lost in the memories. She smiled ironically. "I don't even remember if we apologized or hugged or kissed or anything before he left, but it was the last time I saw him. He . . . he was killed two days later with a shot to the head."
She played with her hands under the table, suddenly very interested in her cuticles as she spoke. "I think, had Biggs and Wedge not been there to take care of me those next few months, I probably would have died of starvation or something. I was an absolute wreck, Ignis. For years, I blamed him, blamed myself, blamed the entire world. The three of us—Biggs, Wedge, and I—tried to make it work as mercenaries, but the money just wasn't there and eventually I commissioned in the military, too. But I swore, from the day he died, I would never put my heart out there again, just to have it ripped out like that. I wouldn't risk falling for someone who made work their relationship, or who could possibly die at any moment's notice like that."
She'd opened herself up to Ignis and, yet, he sat, quiet and paralyzed. He had a million things we wanted to say, but nothing seemed appropriate. Ignis went the safe route and expressed his condolences. "Aranea, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
Aranea let out a condescending laugh. "Save it, Specs. I've passed the point where all the civil pleasantries mean much of anything anymore, as awful as that probably sounds."
Ignis nodded and said, "All things considered, though, you can't fault a man for trying to survive. Maybe I'm biased, but I know how it is having your life revolve around work and responsibilities."
"Yeah, but you didn't sell your soul to the devil—A.K.A. the Nifs."
Now she wasn't making sense. Ignis narrowed his eyes. "I'm not following. How can you say that when you were in the ranks of their military when we met you?"
"That's because I met Ardyn," Aranea stated matter-of-factly, taking note of how the name inflicted a touch of fear on the advisor's face. "We got to talking and he swindled me with promises of money and stability. I think he knew how emotionally wrecked I was and took advantage of it. I was easily manipulatable and he obviously needed someone to do his bidding without so much opposition. Enter me, stage left. I was his girl."
Aranea studied Ignis from across the table and he remained stoic. When he looked at her, emerald-green eye now white and intimidating, she veered her gaze back to her plate, pushing the leftover food around. Her fork scraped roughly against the plate, punctuating the silence.
In a strange change in subject, Ignis pursed his lips. "So . . . you really have no want to court again?" he prodded, almost as if the entire conversation were forgotten in his mind.
Aranea tilted her head back, eyeing him down the length of her nose, wondering—but gradually catching on—why he was so interested in her love life right now. "I guess if the right guy came along and swept me off my feet, I'd give him a shot," she mused.
"Would you?"
"I wouldn't be opposed to the idea . . ."
A shift between them. Ignis gathered that Aranea was leaned forward in her chair, anticipating his next words. Now's your chance.
"Aranea, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. Something that has been weighing on my mind for some time now," he started, sitting up straighter with his hands in his lap. He heard her stop and he was curious how she was looking at him right now. Was she concerned? Frustrated? Indifferent?
"Oh?" Was the only thing she said, one eyebrow cocked as she put her fork down, giving him her undivided attention.
He took a deep breath, priming himself for the best way to tell her what was in his heart. Nerve-wracking moments were everyday occurrences throughout Ignis' life. He'd had more than his fair share of them before: Waiting up for Noctis' hopefully stellar exam grades to be posted, all those times he had to stand before his Majesty in front of the Royal Court, a vague phone call one night from the Insomnian police stating that Prompto and Noctis were in custody for their antics at a nearby arcade. However, all those instances, and more, had nothing on this moment right here, right now. He was a rattled ball of nerves and there was nothing he could do to hide that.
But he was ready. It was as good a time as any. Just as he opened his mouth, a muffled ring of Aranea's phone interrupted him. After the third ring, she growled and rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Specs. One second?"
Ignis gave a curt nod and she answered the phone with an impolite, "What, Cor?" For the next few minutes, he listened as she bickered back and forth with him, her voice loud and terse one minute, then quiet and strained the next. "I literally just got back from fuckin' Accordo, and now you want to send me away again? Why the fuck can't you go? . . . No, of course I don't want to watch over this fucking city. Do you not know me? . . . Well, shit, if I had known that, I wouldn't have unpacked my stuff so fast when I got home!"
While she was talking, Ignis sat back and reconsidered his confession. Was now really the best time to tell Aranea just how much he cared for her? She already told him she wasn't looking for any sort of relationship, and for some rather valid reasons. Ignis couldn't promise that, when Noctis returned (because he would), that he would also return to making his life all about his work. He couldn't promise that he'd never put his life on the line for his liege, because that's what he was sworn to do.
He closed his eye and dropped his head, deciding that it was best he try to forget his feelings for Aranea. It just wasn't meant to be. Maybe if things were different and life wasn't so complicated, they would have worked out. For now, he'd have to be happy with just having her as a close friend and comrade.
". . . Yeah, I know. Fine, when do you want me ready? Ok, yeah. Thanks," she sighed, waiting a second before slamming the phone face down on the table.
When she didn't immediately offer up what it was that Cor wanted, though Ignis could very easily assume what he asked of her, he cleared his throat and placed his napkin from his lap right next to his plate. "Leaving again, so soon?"
Aranea shook her head. "Tomorrow afternoon, Iris, Biggs, Wedge, and I are driving out to the old Meldacio Hunter's Headquarters. Some of the hunters out there said they're having a hard time fending for themselves. They want some backup for a week or so until everything gets back under control." She chuckled sarcastically under her breath and turned her attention back to Ignis. "Sorry, before we were rudely interrupted, you wanted to tell me something?"
Ignis' mouth went dry and he tried to stall for time by taking a sip of his water, but that would only hold her off for so long. Finally, he put his glass down and moved his chair forward slightly so he was closer to the table. "I . . . I . . . well . . ."
She huffed irritatingly. "Spit it out, Specs. What's on your mind?"
He imagined her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes narrowed. Her elbows were probably resting on the table and he wanted to call her out on it, even though he wasn't entirely sure if he was right in that assumption or not. Another long pause and he found his voice again. "I'm . . . Well, you see . . . I-I'm . . . leaving, too," he finally said. "Steyliff Grove. I want to find out more about Ardyn. Who he is, what are his motives, something, anything. I can't say for certain, but there has to be something, somewhere, about him."
Aranea didn't like the idea of this, that much Ignis could tell. He figured she was caught off guard by it. Her breathing had all but stopped and he couldn't detect any movements from her. "Alone?" she asked coldly.
"Oh, absolutely not. I plan to ask Talcott to accompany me on this quest. Between the two of us, we're bound to find something. I've also heard that he is particularly fond of the times of Lucis past, so what better way to get more acquainted with the history of the world and land than to go to the tombs and dungeons?"
He wasn't looking for her approval, but he was hoping she'd say something. He despised when she went silent like this. It always meant she was seething or that she was unnerved. Ignis reached across for her hand, but she jerked back. Whatever tender moment budding between them just minutes before was suddenly gone, replaced with sadness and irritation. There was no point in sitting, making idle conversation anymore. Slowly, he pulled his hand away and rose to his feet, exhaling while taking her plate and stacking it on his.
As he walked to the kitchenette, her meek voice stopped him. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
With both dishes in his hand, he turned back toward her. "Aranea, I have to do this. I need to do this. Returning to the royal dungeons can't be any less safe than if I were out battling daemons with everyone else. There's no such thing as 'safety' anymore and there hasn't been for some time."
The chair she was sitting in scratched against the carpet and soon she was in front of him. They both stood there in a stalemate of sorts, knowing neither one could convince the other that they were right and the other was wrong.
As if to offset the tension between them, Aranea began to take the plates from Ignis' hands and his grip on them tightened. "You are my guest. You needn't do anything lest it's to relax. Allow me to take care of this," he stated firmly. Aranea stubbornly tried again to grab the plates. Using his height to his advantage, Ignis raised them high above his head so she could no longer reach them.
She growled and threw her hands up. "Fine, fine. You win."
With a forced smirk, he glided passed her with ease, putting the plates in the sink and washing them with scalding hot water. Aware that Aranea was watching him from the entryway of the kitchenette, he smirked and threw a sideways glance her way. "We've come far since we last stood here together," he ruminated, placing one of the clean plates off to the side as he finished up with the second one.
It felt like just yesterday that they were standing in the same kitchen, her feeding him playfully and him unsure of how he really felt about her. His words stirred something inside her and she crossed her arms, leaning one shoulder against the entryway. "Yeah, we have. . . haven't we?"
They faced each other, both hoping the other would say something. There was so much in the air between them, unsaid words palpable. When neither gathered the courage to speak, Ignis returned to washing the plate and, when finished, he dried both dishes off and stacked them in the cabinet behind him. With both hands still on the cabinet knobs, he sighed and looked at her with a sad smile. "You'd best be off, Aranea. You'll need your sleep if you hope to be in any decent shape for tomorrow, loathe it were for me to be the one to send you away."
Aranea blinked, her arms falling to her sides. She knew, in her heart, there was more he wanted to say, but the words he spoke made it clear he wasn't ready to reveal anything to her yet. The envelope from earlier once more entered her mind and she reached into her back pocket for it, examining it a final time. If he had nothing left to say to her, that was fine. It didn't mean she had no words for him, written or otherwise.
She stepped forward and nudged him with the corner of it. A flash of recognition passed across Ignis' eye and he took it from her as she laid a hand on his arm, squeezing it. "You stay safe out there until I get back, ok? Don't try to play hero because you feel you have something you need to prove."
"You as well," he breathed, taking in her touch and her proximity to him. With one final squeeze, her hand fell away and he heard her footsteps recede to the door. She paused one final time and opened the door, softly closing it behind her.
From the kitchenette, Ignis dragged his feet to his bed, final envelope in hand. Something told him that this envelope held a letter that expressed a hell of a lot more than any other letter she'd sent him before. Call it a hunch, but Ignis flipped it and twirled it in his hands, more desperate than ever to know what it said.
Why was this so hard? Three simple words. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less. He felt a heavy sadness wash over him. It wasn't that he was regretting the fact that he was withholding his feelings from her, but Gods, it didn't make anything any easier. Knowing also that she was worried again about his safety and wellbeing, especially when it came to exploring the Royal Tombs and dungeons, made him restless, though he'd have to push those anxieties aside.
It was high time that someone knew who this 'Ardyn Izunia' character really was.
He stretched behind him and felt around the surface of his nightstand for his phone. Using voice commands, he asked to be connected to Talcott. One ring, then two, and Talcott's voice sounded through the speakerphone.
"Talcott? It's Ignis Scientia. I have a rather large request to ask of you, should you choose to accept it . . ."
Author's Note: A lot of notes here, so here we go!
I'm late I know! So sorry! I let this week get away from me and then I spent a huge chunk of today rereading and editing this. As I wrote this chapter, it became a lot more detailed than I originally anticipated, so that was interesting to work through.
I also got the news that I'll be headed to Atlanta, Georgia this week for 8 days for work. I anticipate long long hours at work and, coupled with the fact that this next chapter will be lore heavy and lacking in the HighSpecs aspect, I am going to try my damndest to get the chapter out on time. However, I also am trying to be very realistic and note that it's possible that the chapter may be a day or so late, if not a little later. I will keep my Tumblr updated (same name as here, in case you need it!), but that's where my mind is at right now.
Also, holy bajeebus! I upped the rating to M and you all STILL are following! Wow, was not expecting that! My gratitude is beyond words at this point! Also, glad to know that the final scene in the last chapter went well with all of you :)
Another thing I want to mention is I am so sorry for my lack of responses this last week to all my reviewers. In case you didn't know, this site's reviews were down for a bulk of the beginning of the week. By the time they came back up, I was pretty involved in work so I hardly had time to get back on here and respond. Please know that I did read them all and I loved every little bit of them. This week I will make sure to respond as soon as I can because, truly, you taking time out to let me know how you like the story means the world to me. I say it every week, but it's true. I'm so sorry, but I promise I'll be responding to each review this week (that is, unless the system goes down again lol).
As always, you all blow me away every week. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I love you. I appreciate you. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart.