Water Under the Bridge
Speak of the Devil
Ignis stood under the showerhead, hands clasped behind his neck, as he clung to the kiss that he and Aranea shared. He vacillated between thinking 'it was a mistake' and 'best moment of his life'. Or, maybe he was overthinking it. That would make sense, considering he hadn't even been able to pull Aranea aside to properly discuss what the kiss meant, if it meant anything at all. Had she just felt so sorry for him that she figured allowing him a pity kiss would be sufficient payback for sticking up for her? Was it possible that she, too, had feelings for him that he hadn't picked up on until now?
Or maybe, just maybe, they'd let the wine lower their inhibitions that night and got caught up in the romanticism of the moment.
Typical, he thought bitterly as he let the water fall over him. He couldn't even enjoy what transpired between them because he was so caught up in the details. It was torture.
Pure, excruciating, emotional torture.
This all could easily be worked out if they could just talk to each other but, of course, their schedules had decided to clash this week— when Ignis was home, Aranea was gone and vice versa. Aranea was partnering with Cor more than usual to formulate new strategies on how to send out daemon hunters while the surviving populace of people dwindled over time due to sickness and death, while Ignis spent every waking moment either training alone or studying old tomes with Talcott.
Ignis could have let the hot water run over him for hours longer—it was a hotel, after all, and hot water was one of the few luxuries that those living in the Levelle were afforded—but he finally decided enough was enough, turning the shower off and pulling the curtain back while grabbing the towel off the nearby hook. Carefully, so as to not trip and fall, he stepped out of the tub and into the steamy bathroom, drying his hair with a towel before securing it around his slim waist.
Like a switch, his thoughts moved away from Aranea—if only for a short while. While he spent half his time reminiscing about their kiss, he spent the other half agonizing over the fact that he still wasn't talking to Gladio. Not even so much as a 'fuck you' was exchanged between the two since Ignis punched him in the jaw in the lobby. Thank the Astrals that Gladio was also on a different schedule this week, or their living situation would have been a whole lot more awkward.
No, Ignis would not apologize for his reaction to the situation or for what he did. He didn't feel an ounce of remorse for having assaulted his friend, feeling deep in his heart that Gladio deserved it for once, no matter how distraught he was over his sister's injury. It didn't give Gladio the right to lash out the way he did That didn't stop him from worrying about his best friend, never having gone this long without speaking. At least before, even when they were busy, they still managed to get a quick update on each other's lives or something. It was somewhat painful that the silent treatment was ongoing between the two.
One afternoon in passing, Ignis asked Prompto how Gladio was doing and if he was alright. Prompto hemmed and hawed, desperate to avoid getting caught in the middle, but he finally told Ignis that Gladio was doing fine. Now that Iris was a little better, at least able to hold short conversations, Gladio relaxed a little. Having been constricted to within an inch of her life and attacked ruthlessly by one of the Nagaranis, it was a miracle at all that she was even alive. She was far from clear to be discharged and had an even longer road to go before she was ok to fight again, but she was alert and breathing on her own and doctors reiterated that she would eventually make a full recovery. That was more than enough for Gladio, who remained mostly at the medical center for the time being in between daemon hunting.
With a sigh, Ignis shook his head and went through his routine of brushing his teeth, combing his hair back, and opening the door to the main living space so he could find an outfit for the day. As he opened the door, a bit louder than he usually did, he heard a startled cry and a loud thump as the other person stumbled backward into the wall and Ignis jumped back in surprise.
"Shit, dude," Prompto gasped. "Warn a man, why don't you. I didn't know you were home this morning. I figured you would be out with Talcott or something."
Prompto must have just come in from another long few days of guard duty, standing against the wall by the front door. His eyes were wide and he had a hand on his chest in reaction to Ignis storming out of the bathroom.
Ignis recomposed himself and stood taller, ignoring how cold the room was when all he had on was a towel and nothing else. "I could say the same for you, always barging in here like some sort of wild animal. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two in the art of stealth," he huffed, walking to his own small closet and picking out his Crownsguard attire for the day.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You should be used to it by now," Prompto declared, making no apologies for who he was. With a loud grumbling of his stomach, he laughed and continued past Ignis to the kitchen, ignoring the man as he, unabashedly, removed his towel and got dressed. It wasn't anything the roommates hadn't seen before in the years they'd known each other.
Raucously, Prompto shuffled through the pantry, the fridge, the freezer, and the cupboards looking for something to eat. When the first search didn't result in anything Prompto wanted, he lowered his expectations and looked again. "Anyway," he called out with his head stuck in the fridge, happening upon some leftover dinner that Ignis had placed neatly on the top shelf, "how's that Ardyn search goin' for you? Find anything good?"
"No," was all Ignis replied, shrugging his dress shirt on over his undershirt, covering up the numerous scars scattered all over his body, acquired throughout his life and during all the battles he'd fought.
Without bothering to heat up the food, Prompto grabbed a fork and shoveled the leftovers in his mouth gluttonously. The look that Ignis threw his way as he chomped and slurped didn't even faze him, only spurring him on to irritate the advisor more with his loud chewing. He was hungry and dammit if Ignis was going to guilt him into being polite right now.
"Dude, you really need to lighten up or something. You've been completely on edge lately. Are you ok?" Ignis remained quiet, focusing on buttoning his shirt correctly and getting it tucked into his slacks. Prompto finished his meal and threw the Tupperware and fork into the sink, shrugging off the ire glare from Ignis once more. "That's what I'm talking about. Can't even put something in the sink without you getting pissy."
"We don't throw dishes around, Prompto. We place them gently in the sink and clean up after ourselves," he griped, bending down over his nightstand and feeling around for his sunglasses to mask the facial scars.
"You know what you need? A nice, cold bottle of beer. Or a shot of whiskey. Or ten shots. I mean, if your mood is because of Gladio, I wouldn't sweat it. You know as well as I do that the big guy will come around. He always does," Prompto said with a slap to Ignis' back. When Ignis didn't respond, instead biting his lower lip in thought, Prompto tilted his head. "What? Not Gladio? Then what is it? Is it the research? Does Cor want you to head out on a mission?" When nothing grabbed Ignis' attention, Prompto exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. "If it's not Gladio, your research, Cor, then what else is it? I mean, the only thing left would have to be Ara—oh. Oh, shit. Is it Aranea?"
On her name, Ignis flinched and tensed under the sharpshooter's hand.
Bingo.
"Ahhh, we're getting somewhere. And the game of '20 Questions' continues! Did something happen? Is she ok?"
Ignis shrugged off Prompto's hand and returned to his closet, moving his hand along the inside wall where he kept his belts hung, avoiding the topic that this conversation was headed down. It was one thing for him to dwell on it alone, as he had, for hours and hours at a time. That didn't mean he wanted to talk about it.
Or, maybe he did. Prompto would know what to do.
With a deep breath as he found the belt he was looking for, Ignis frowned. "After everything that happened—with Gladio, I mean—Aranea and I . . . we shared a moment."
"You're gonna have to be a tad more specific than that. 'Sharing a moment' could mean anything. Did you talk? Hold hands?" Prompto's face lit up. "You finally had sex, didn't you?"
Halfway through with pulling his belt through his pant loops, Ignis stopped and glared at him. "No, we just kissed," he snapped as he brought his belt the rest of the way through and buckled it. "And, even if we did have intercourse, a gentleman never tells."
"Hey, dude, no need to get on your high-horse. I was just asking." He shoved his hands in his pockets, blowing a piece of hair out of his face. "But, hey! You kissed! That's awesome, man! You should be high on life right now. Why are you so bummed about it?"
Ignis shook his head, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose. "Because, during our kiss, Talcott came and unintentionally interrupted us. Right after that, her walls went right back up and she was guarded again. I don't know. I'm on the fence whether she truly has feelings for me. I want to believe she does, but this kiss . . . I'm confused."
Ignis heard Prompto flop onto Gladio's bed, chuckling. "She likes you. Aranea likes you a lot. Hell, I'd go so far as to say she loves you. We all see it and we've told you both to just go for it, but you continue to do this whole frustrating back-and-forth thing. What makes you think that, after your kiss, she still wouldn't return your feelings?"
Ignis shrugged, regretting telling Prompto anything. Gods, he hated feeling like a silly schoolboy with a ridiculous crush. He heard the thud of Prompto's shoes hitting the floor as he kicked them off, getting even cozier on the bed. Ignis wrinkled his nose, knowing full well that Prompto needed to take a shower and was probably soiling Gladio's sheets with his sweat-drenched and grime-caked outfit. Before he could reprimand the man, Prompto interjected with, "Have you talked to her at all? Or, wait, lemme guess; she's been too busy and you guys are too stubborn to just pick up a phone or something."
Ignis scoffed at the idea of calling her. "This isn't something I wish to discuss over the phone, Prompto. You of all people should understand that."
"Sure, but If I know you, I'd say this—and that fight with Gladio—has been weighing on your mind non-stop, hm? It's probably all you can think about, even though you know you have nothing to worry about. She's busy, you're busy, but I guarantee she's been thinking of that kiss, too. If picking up the damn phone saves you the headache of worrying and wondering, I'd say it's worth it. But, you do you. If you'd rather wait and do it in person, that's on you. You're almost 32 years old. I think you're old enough to know what to do."
Ignis stood there in awkward silence, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and frowning. He could just imagine the smug look that Prompto was giving him—corners of his lips turned up, eyes halfway closed as he regarded the advisor haughtily. Turning his nose up, Ignis grabbed his shoes and put them on, annoyed. "Talcott readied the vehicle with our supplies and he should be ready any minute now. We're headed down to Costlemark for a few days, so I'll see you when I get back."
"Alright, dude. Stay safe. I'll tell Aranea you said hi!"
Checking to make sure he had everything in his possession, he opened the room door and brought his blind stare over his shoulder to the younger man, still cuddled in Gladio's bed. "And, for Astrals' sake, take a shower and do your laundry. You're dirtying up perfectly clean sheets."
"What a waste of time," grumbled Talcott, shifting the vehicle into a lower gear as the road before them twisted and curved. Both him and Ignis were dismayed at the lack of information Costlemark Tower held. They overstayed their welcome, barely able to make it with the supplies they had left. Both agreed that maybe the information in the pages that were carelessly strewn in the car for them to find had been outdated and of no use. Or, maybe the pages were falsified. There was no other explanation. They literally came up empty handed.
They were no closer to finding anything else out about Ardyn Izunia, Proditious Izunia, or anything of the sort and it soured their moods. Reluctantly, they called the mission a wash and decided to return to Lestallum to pour over the texts they'd brought back from Steyliff.
Surely, they'd find something else buried in the books and scrolls that they'd missed before. Or maybe their ambitions were far too high and there wasn't anything for them to find.
"We'll keep looking. I'm not ready to give in, and neither should you." Ignis rested his forehead against the glass of the window, closing his eye. "We mustn't lose faith."
The rest of the car ride was heavy with silence as both let their thoughts wander until they made it back to Lestallum. Talcott slowed to a stop at the gate and Ignis immediately sensed something was amiss by the low muttering under Talcott's breath. The teen honked the truck horn several times.
"No one is at the shack to open the gate for us. I don't think I've ever seen a station unmanned," Talcott pondered. He sighed with irritation, opening the truck door and dragging himself out. "Hello? Can someone let us in?"
Ignis stepped out of the truck as well, easing the door closed but not shutting it completely. He remained beside the vehicle, head tilted as Talcott waited for someone to come get them. He laced his fingers in the links of the gate while his mouth formed a grim line. "Strange, I don't see anyone. There's a pile of clothing, but," he snorted, "why would anyone decide to strip nude and run around Lestallum?"
"Perhaps the heat was more than that person could take?" Ignis suggested humorously. "It is a fair bit warmer today than it has been as of late. No surprise that someone would want to strip nude in this heat."
"You got that right," he agreed, sweat dripping down his back as if to prove a point. Although both men were joking, they knew this was unheard of. In all seriousness, why would someone leave their clothes in a pile and go missing?
Well, at least they'd had the foresight to keep the gate locked, whoever it was.
"What should we do?"
Before Ignis could recommend anything, both men heard faint screaming. They listened intently, the screaming bringing both right back to years ago when the same type of screaming alerted the city to Cerberus' intrusion. Talcott walked back to the vehicle, grabbing his phone and shaking his head. "Sir, if you don't mind, I'm just going to climb the gate. I'll just be careful around the barbed wire on top. Sitting here isn't going to help us any and there's no way we can pull the gate open with the machine mechanism locked right now. Plus, we need the code to get the stupid thing moving anyway. I'll go find someone and hurry back, ok?"
"Don't worry about me," Ignis smiled. "I can take care of myself."
Talcott smiled in return and walked to the gate, ascending the chain-links with ease. Once at the top, he cautiously swung himself over, careful to grab at points on the fence that weren't so dangerous, but he still managed to obtain a few superficial cuts and nicks in the process. Instead of climbing down, he chose to just jump, the shock of his fall causing him to grunt in discomfort. Without another word, Talcott jogged away to find help while simultaneously searching out the source of the screams.
Alone, Ignis crossed his arms and considered what to do now. He debated climbing the fence as well, but decided against that option, choosing instead to stand around and wait. The screaming in the distance came randomly and Ignis grew anxious, wondering what could be going on within the city that he couldn't get to. Surely someone like Cor or Aranea had it taken care of, but the entire situation felt off.
Then, he heard nothing, almost as if he'd gone deaf.
The world around him stilled with only the sound of his own breathing there to punctuate the quiet.
Dread pooled in his stomach. This absolute silence was familiar. But how? He would have remembered if he'd experienced this before, but no. This was new.
Then, it hit him. When the train they'd all been riding on from Cartanica stalled, Ignis and Gladio split up to help the passengers and to fix the engine, leaving Prompto and Noctis alone. It was Noctis that had experienced this before, right before Ardyn made his appearance as Prompto. Noctis relayed the entire scenario to them as soon as he could, detailing how quiet everything became before hell broke loose. If memory served Ignis right, and it usually did, it was eerily like this moment.
"Hello, Ignis."
He whirled around so suddenly that he nearly fell backward, the enunciation of his name startling him. It was Aranea saying his name, her boots clicking on the pavement as she approached him with confidence and grace. Aranea, calm and fearless.
Aranea, outside of Lestallum, instead of inside where he was sure she would have been right about now.
He wasted no time dwelling on the specifics, chalking it up to her running an errand outside city limits, or training in her spare time. "Aranea, you've got to get out of here," Ignis warned, holding a hand out to detain her while keeping an ear out for the danger he was sure was within the area.
"Why would I do that?"
"Please trust me. Ardyn is here. He's— "
He was halted by the sharp sting of a backhanded slap across the face, the force of it surprising him. Wide-eyed and too stunned to even utter a single word, he raised a hand to his cheek in shock. He knew the area where she'd slapped him had already begun to redden and it hurt more than he let on.
"You don't think I can't take care of myself? You think I would honestly want you to protect me? My dear, you can barely protect yourself. You, with barely the sense to guide yourself from point A to point B? You, only half the man you were before Altissia?"
With a hand still to his cheek, Ignis furrowed his brows and took a step back. "What are you— "
Another sentence left unfinished as he took a hit to his stomach, doubling over and falling to his knees with his arms wrapped around his abdomen. Ignis felt his glasses slide to the tip of his nose but didn't have the strength to push them back up as he coughed from the blow. From above, Aranea still taunted him. "You fool. Who do you think you are, running around this world like you have a chance in hell of ever protecting Noctis from what lies ahead of him? He doesn't want you in his retinue. Why would he? You're a liability. Dead weight. A failure."
Ignis closed his eye, shaking his head. No, this was a dream. This wasn't Aranea. It couldn't be. But he had no way of knowing and it sure as hell sounded like her so, by all accounts, it had to be her. He wanted to warn her again that Ardyn was here and she needed to get away, despite the fact that she was torturing him with an endless barrage of insults and jeers. Regardless of how she felt about him, he never wanted to put her in harm's way. He'd rather die than see her get hurt.
However, he couldn't get the words out over her incessant teasing. "How does it feel, Ignis? Knowing no one can rely on you? Once the 'Jack of all Trades', now reduced to a bumbling handicapped fool; the laughingstock of all of Lestallum. Don't think, for one second, that anyone takes you seriously. Not Gladiolus. Not Prompto. No one. Why would they?"
Ignis choked on his words. On his knees, he hunched over and his glasses finally fell from his face, clattering on the stone under him. It wasn't possible to block her out as the words resounded in his head. "Tell me," she purred, one finger drawn under his chin and pulling his blind stare to her. "How is that injury working out for you? How does it feel to be all alone, forever? With only your thoughts to keep you company?"
"Stop . . ." Ignis managed, thoughts still on making sure she retreated to safety. "Aranea, I-I . . . get out of here, now."
"No one, including myself, will ever love you. You're damaged. Irrevocably broken. A man held once in such high esteem, now no more than a shell of his former self. What a shame, really." Her dark laughter startled him and he suddenly felt very afraid. This wasn't right. Something wasn't right. He reached out, feeling for her but was tossed away to the ground. "Just give into the darkness. You already live in it every day; why not just let it wash over you and take you away for good?"
Ignis couldn't listen anymore. He didn't want to. He clamped his hands over his ears, humming a soft tune to further drown out Aranea.
No.
It wasn't Aranea.
There's no way she could be this cruel and heartless.
This was not the woman he fell in love with.
His hair was being pulled and he felt the pain deep in his skull. He let out a yelp and whimpered, never having felt more helpless in his life than in this moment. What was wrong with him? He had been trained to fight, to survive, to live through torture tactics. It was one of the requirements to be in the Crownsguard. Yet, he could barely get through whatever this was. This emotional and psychological torment. It was a living nightmare.
Her breath was in his ear. "You're worthless. Useless. Don't even try to deny it. We all know it. Once you realize it, the better off you'll be."
He strained to turn his head up toward her, trying and failing to keep a strong face. "You're not serious, are you?" he practically pleaded, his voice scarcely above a whisper. He was too proud to cry over something like this, but the lump in his throat ached and he sunk deeper into himself, succumbing to Aranea's taunting.
It was more than he could take.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe, no matter what he did, he'd never be good enough.
Amid battling another rogue daemon, Aranea heard Talcott calling her name, breathless as he ran toward her. Without wasting another second, Aranea brought her weapon down on the daemon's head, crushing its skull, before she willed the spear away. "Sorry, daemons are managing to get into the city, so we've been on high alert. We've checked the entire perimeter of the city, but there aren't any holes in the fencing, so we're stumped." Then, she noticed that Talcott had arrived alone. "Small fry, where's Specs? Prompto said you both left for Costlemark together a few days ago."
"I had to climb the gate to get in," he started to explain. Aranea's forehead crinkled as she wordlessly signaled for Talcott to continue. "We were waiting for someone to let us in, but whoever was manning the gate stripped down and left. I had to climb up and around to get in. I would've opened the gate, but I don't know the code and I said I'd find you or someone else to help us."
"Let me get this straight; you guys drove back, sat and waited for someone to let you in, and realized that guard shack was empty and whoever was on duty just up and left their clothes?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Just great, she thought, pinching the bridge of her nose. "So, did Specs go back to the hotel or something?"
"No, I told him I'd be right back with help and he should stay—hey. Wait. You said daemons have been getting in?" Aranea nodded and Talcott brought a hand to his mouth. "Oh my gods. It makes sense. The Starscourge. People disappearing and their clothes . . ."
Aranea grew nervous as Talcott's face drained of color. "What's your point?"
Talcott took several steps backward, gearing up to break into a run back. "We read about this. The daemons are people. They're people like you and me and they don't disappear when they're afflicted with the Scourge. They turn into daemons. Someone's infecting the people and I think that means that Ignis could be in trouble."
"What?!"
"Don't ask! We gotta get back to the truck right now!"
Aranea ran past Talcott, panic clawing at her insides and her legs feeling like lead as he raced behind her. They ran together and finally weaved their way through the streets to the abandoned gate. In the distance upon their approach, Aranea recognized Ignis crumpled in a heap on the ground, hunched over with his hands covering his ears. It was a rather pathetic sight, not typical of Ignis at all.
With the code to the gates all memorized, Aranea dashed into the guard shack, punching in the six-digits. The glint of the AWOL guard's dog tag caught her eye and she picked up the pile of clothing in one hand while examining the tag in the other. Between the sudden appearance of the daemons in the city and the absence of the guard, there was something going on. Aranea yelled to Talcott to go find Prompto, Gladio, Cor, someone. Anyone. She didn't care who, but she needed backup.
As Talcott ran off again, Aranea fidgeted impatiently, the gate slow to open. She kept her eyes on the advisor, though he was still too distraught in his own thoughts and torments to notice she was there. As soon as clearance was granted, she ran forward and knelt to the ground beside him, trying to pull his hands away from his ears. "Ignis, what's wrong? Dammit, what the hell is wrong?" she begged for a response, holding his wrists tightly. "Look at me and tell me what happened."
He looked at her with fear, shoving her away and scuttling back. Before he could get far enough, she lunged forward, pinning him to the ground and holding him tight. "Fuck, Specs. What the hell has gotten into you? It's me! Aranea!"
Ignis was muttering something incoherent, trying to break free from her grasp as Aranea struggled to keep him under her, at least until help arrived. No amount of consoling broke through his reverie and she was shocked at how desperate he was to get away, his fingers scraping the ground as he fought for freedom.
"Ignis, stop! What are you doing? Please tell me— "
"Commodore Aranea Highwind! What a wonderful surprise! I was hoping to run into you after these terribly long years," a seductive voice dripped behind her, sending her pulse through the roof. "Having some trouble, are we?"
When Ignis stilled under her, she slowly stood and turned around, coming face to face with the aubergine-haired and flamboyantly-dressed Ardyn Izunia, looking exactly the same as he did when she was under his command. His hand danced idly in the air as he spoke and he didn't look to have a care in the world.
"You. What are you doing here?"
He sneered. "Why, I'm here to check on my handiwork! I live for chaotic situations and, between the daemons in your city and . . . this," he pointed at Ignis, "I'm sure getting quite the show."
"You?" she motioned to the city and the empty guard shack, "you did this?"
"Commodore, you don't really think this was all a mere coincidence, do you? I pegged you for a smarter person than that than to attribute anything to chance anymore."
Aranea growled, debating whether to draw her weapon on Ardyn or not, halfway remembering Ignis telling her that Ardyn was immortal, but she stopped when she observed a mischievous glimmer in his eye. "Daemons . . . tragic creatures, aren't they? They didn't ask for the fate they were handed, with their only salvation being death."
She stiffened. "What are you talking about?"
Ardyn ignored the weight behind her question, responding instead with, "What would King Noctis do if his friends were made to be daemons? What a sad, miserable scenario to come back to . . . much worse than simply coming back to this dark world." Ardyn made a wide, sweeping gesture toward Ignis, still in a ball on the ground with his eye clenched tightly shut. "What would that do to you, Commodore, if I freed Ignis from his personal, claustrophobic hell? It's not like he's much use in the state he's in now, is he?"
Aranea felt the heat of anger redden her cheeks, her eyes narrowing in disgust. "You bastard," she seethed. "What the fuck did you say to him? What did you do?"
"Now, why on Eos would you think it was I who did anything to harm the precious royal advisor? I'm offended you'd even insinuate— "
"Can it, fucker. You're not fooling me."
Ardyn sighed a long and drawn out breath, his shoulders sagging in mock defeat. "Well, I may have pretended to be you, but only for a moment," he quickly added, as if that made his actions any better. "Can you blame me? I've been so bored lately and it was either that or make him my pet. Daemons can really come in handy, you know."
"You lay one hand on him and I promise on Shiva's grave you'll regret ever doing so. You no-good, cock-sucking— "
"My word," Ardyn gasped, his hand on his chest and eyes wide. "Such foul words coming from such a pristine woman—and directed at her superior?"
"You were never my superior," Aranea spat venomously.
He chuckled deeply, the entire scene before him comical. With two large strides, he was standing inches from Aranea, but now his face was becoming distorted with black streaks of some tar-like substance leaking from his eyes. Hollowed eyes. Ardyn didn't care.
Aranea sensed that he welcomed this physical change, knew that it terrified her, but she refused to back down. Not now. Not for this asshole. Still, when he placed a hand on her cheek, smirking that devilish smile that he was so well-known for, she gulped down a scream.
Ignis was still behind her, but he wasn't making a sound anymore. His eye was open and his face was pale. Ardyn glanced over Aranea's shoulder at the mess of a man on the ground behind her and then returned his attention back to her. "I could turn him and everyone you know into daemons, just like I did your comrade, Ravus. It's so easy and I wouldn't have to lead such a miserable existence with them by my side. But, I wouldn't want to take away another loved one from you, not after seeing how well you're doing with this one in your life," he mocked, referring to Ignis.
"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"
"I've been called far worse for much smaller offenses," he bit back. "Well, Aranea Highwind, I'll let you get back to your 'friend', as you so lovingly call him before he spontaneously combusts. Although, my only request is that you tell him that if it's information he seeks on my heritage, he needs not look any further than the Angelguard prison. There he'll find all the answers he needs, right there for the taking," he advised, though his cheerful demeanor faded as he told her this, replaced with an air of hostility and evil when he sensed Aranea's hesitancy. "Fear not, my sweet subordinate—this is not a trap. If I wanted you or your new friends dead, I could have had your lives long ago. Death, you see, is a luxury only afforded to those few who are lucky to receive it."
"How thoughtful," Aranea snapped, brushing Ardyn's hand away from her face.
"If you only knew," he hissed, but soon the spite in his mannerisms was gone and back was the jovial attitude from before. He tipped his fedora. "As always, Commodore, it was wonderful catching up with you. Please, let's not let so many years pass before our next run-in, hm? I look forward to seeing you and your gang of merry men soon enough."
With the flick of his wrist, Ardyn turned and waltzed away into the darkness. Aranea swore she heard him laugh maniacally, but chalked it up to her imagination. The air was damp with heat and humidity, but Aranea shivered like it was colder than winter outside.
Harsh and ragged breathing from Ignis brought Aranea back and she was immediately by his side, one hand on his shoulder while the other brushed a few stray hairs from his forehead. Aranea hated seeing him in such a state. She forced a smile and spoke calmly. "Hey . . . hey Four-Eyes," she whispered as he turned to her, sweat beaded on his brow and down his neck.
"A-Aranea? Is that really . . ."
She nodded, settling into a seated position beside him, adjusting him so his head was in her lap. "Don't worry, it's really me. He's gone for now. Whatever he said," she ran her hand through his hair consolingly and did so again as she saw him close his eye and lean into the gesture, "whatever you were made to believe—just don't, ok? It's not true. None of it is."
He panted, drinking in the air as if he'd been deprived of it his whole life. Aranea laid a hand on his back, damp and warm from sweat. She felt her heart skip a beat as he looked at her and she swore he was deliberately making eye contact with her. He was finally coming to from his breakdown and he smiled wearily. "Hey."
"Hi," she whispered, smiling back
"We should get the vehicle back inside," he said and Aranea laughed.
"We'll do that in a minute. Let's just focus on you right now, ok?"
They may have stayed there for minutes or hours, Ignis lying in her lap, but Aranea didn't mind.
She would have sat there with him forever if she could.
Author's Note: Another late night update, but it's here! Ok, so it's only 7:12 pm here, but still. I have my reasons! First of all, today is my birthday so yay happy birthday to me! Husband bought me a PS4 so I played that for a while this week, finally got around to beating Pitioss Dungeon (I nearly cried when I beat it, I was so happy), and then I did all kinds of adult stuff like yard work. So, yup, that's why this didn't come out earlier in the day.
Also, I can't believe the awesome feedback I got with that kiss last chapter. I also can't believe that I've hit over 100 reviews on here! How freakin' exciting! I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for all of you, so thank you guys! You all are the real stars :D
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go replay FFXV on the PS4 because I'm just shameless for this game (despite its glaring flaws). It's my birthday, dangit! I do what I want!