Water Under the Bridge
February 7th

Several weeks had passed since Ardyn's intrusion and his hint on where the best place would be to find any and all information on him. When Aranea finally divulged to Ignis that Ardyn told her of the location amid his own hysterics, she was quick to add that she didn't think it was a great idea to go. In fact, she said, she almost didn't want to tell Ignis any of this at all but felt she owed it to him to let him know. It almost felt dirty keeping something like that from him, she admitted.

Ignis had his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled as he let out a long and heaving sigh, only moving to readjust one of his suspenders so it sat better on his shoulder. Talcott held his head up with one hand and flipped back and forth between his notes and the books before them. Up until now, both tried to think of everything they could to avoid having to go to Angelguard Prison, a small island off the coast of Galdin Quay. Well, more so Ignis than Talcott. The teenager was always ready for adventure.

Talcott was adamant that they go, falling short of begging to head out, while Ignis played out all the ways in his mind that this could work against them. Getting to the island, first of all, would be a major obstacle. Of course, they could call on Cid for help in restoring and repairing the old boat that the used to get to Altissia; plus, he was always itching to put his brainpower to work, griping that he was growing dumber by the second with nothing to keep him occupied. He could easily get the old Caelum yacht up and running out of Cape Caem and they could be on their way to Angelguard in no time.

But, what if Ardyn was lying? What if, despite his promises, it was all a ruse? True, Ignis could very well hold his own in battle and he proved that time and time again over the last ten years, but it would only be him, Talcott, and possibly Cid alone on this island without any backup. At the same time, Ardyn didn't seem like a man who would swear by something and then lie. In a twisted sort of way, Ignis figured him a man of his word.

Still, the thought of relying on Ardyn for anything at all, including pertinent information on their studies, made Ignis sick to his stomach.

So, Talcott and Ignis returned to their books and scrolls, scouring over paintings and pictures, reading and rereading notes for the millionth time. The Prophecy painting was laid out across an empty part of the table, held down in the corners by stacks of books that weren't needed at the moment.

"Ignis," Talcott whined, bringing his head to the table and banging his forehead on it several times in frustration. "We've already looked through this book. I could recite it in my sleep by now."

"What about the pages that Ardyn left in the truck for us?"

"Nothing. Just the same old stuff on Costlemark and how Proditious was the ruler of Solheim. Like I said, I think Ardyn left those pages just to get us out of Lestallum. Costlemark is huge and has a lot of history on Solheim itself, but there's nothing there regarding the Izunia lineage." Talcott let his head rest on the books, his voice muffled. "I know you keep saying no, but I think we should start looking into going to Angelguard," he urged again, as he had since learning of the prison island.

His eye flitted to the teen and he sounded a little more irate than usual. "I'll think about it. Now, let's get back to the information we have right in front of us, for the time being."

Not wanting to get on Ignis' bad side, Talcott frowned but acquiesced, sitting up in his chair and rubbing his eyes. They both knew the real reason Ignis wasn't looking forward to going to the island had everything to do with his run-in with Ardyn before. Like always, Ignis compartmentalized the horrors of that day to the back of his mind and went about his days like nothing happened. But, still, they knew that something that day had set Ignis' drive and motivation back and it almost appeared like some days he was ready to throw in the towel.

The door to Ignis' room flew open and Aranea charged in screaming. "Specs! Small fry! Quick, we need you!"

Ignis sat forward in the chair while Talcott looked up from the book he was studying. Aranea crossed the room and grabbed Ignis by the hand, aware that he wasn't wearing his gloves. She pulled earnestly, forcing him to stand and follow behind. "What's the matter?" he asked while Talcott followed them.

At first, she didn't answer, just weaving him through the hall, down the stairs, and out of the Levelle. Every time he struggled to get his hand from her grasp, she held on tighter to the point that he could almost feel the loss of circulation to his fingers. He was growing annoyed—as everything seemed to make him lately—and, with a final tug, he pulled away. "Aranea, I'm very busy today. If this isn't important, then I ask that you allow Talcott and myself to return to our studies. Are daemons loose again?"

"No."

"Is someone injured?"

"No."

"That settles it. I'm going back to my room."

Aranea grabbed his hand again, holding him back while she looked at Talcott with a smirk. Talcott couldn't understand why she was so insistent that Ignis go with her, but she was never one to do something for no reason. She was the true definition of a free-spirited person, but at least she always had a plan.

"Maybe we can take a short break just to see what she wants," he suggested, much to Ignis' dismay.

"Listen to the kid, Specs, and follow me," she insisted, never relinquishing his hand from her grip. "Do you trust me?"

Ignis raised an eyebrow at her question. "Perhaps."

"Then shut up and come with me."

The trio began to march onward again and Ignis groaned. "I'm starting to think this may be a bad idea."

"Ahhhh, loosen up. It won't kill you to take a five-minute break."

"Is that all the time you'll need?"

Aranea ignored him but gave Talcott a knowing wink. With every complaint that came out of Ignis' mouth, Aranea's smile grew wider. The path that they were taking was incredibly familiar, though not one Ignis took all too often. Still cross, he sighed and realized exactly where she was taking him.

"Aranea, I don't have time to grab a drink with you at the bar. As I mentioned beforehand, I have work to do."

"I think it can wait for this," she hinted as they entered the bar.

"Wait for what?"

There was a split second of silence, the trio standing at the entrance of the bar before the room exploded with a loud "SURPRISE!"

Ignis blinked, not really comprehending what was happening. He turned his head to Aranea and then to Talcott, utterly confused. "Surprise . . . for what?"

Prompto's loud and cheerful laughter reverberated from beside one of the tables. "Dude, you're the worst! Do you not know what today is?"

"I . . . no? I'm afraid I don't."

Aranea elbowed him in the side, giggling. "Seriously Specs? Does February 7th ring any bells?"

As if a light bulb went off over his head seconds later, Ignis' face changed and he was now looking incredibly sheepish. "My birthday," he acknowledged, but then rolled his eye in a joking manner. "You don't think I really believe this is all for me, so much as it is a reason for you all to get inebriated?"

That accusation sent another round of laughs throughout the bar and Ignis found himself relaxing into the situation. Aranea wasn't trying to annoy him at all. They'd planned this party for him and he nearly ruined it with his ill-tempered attitude. He turned to apologize to the Commodore, but she'd already walked away.

It sounded like everyone was there. Prompto and Cor. Cid's gruff voice could be heard somewhere nearby and it sounded like even Cindy—an even worse workaholic than Ignis—had taken the night off to make the trek out to Lestallum. Iris, quieter than usual, sat on a stool by the bar where Talcott joined her.

And, Ignis could not mistake that familiar laugh. That contagious, amiable laugh that could crumble the angry façade of anyone.

Gladio, arms crossed and standing proud, was toward the back where the pool tables were. It didn't matter how long they'd gone without talking; he still showed up to his best friend's birthday party and Ignis felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. They still had much to talk about and they had all night to get to that point, but for him to show up it was definitely a start.

Prompto eagerly tugged at Ignis' sleeve and not a single second was spared as the festivities got underway. Everything sounded so lively, from the conversations that Ignis overheard to the music that was beginning to play, a stark juxtaposition to the world they'd grown familiar with right outside the building.

There was a lot of small talk at first. It wasn't often that everyone was in the same room at the same time for anything other than the occasional town hall meeting, so everyone took this opportunity to relearn what was going on in each other's lives. When everyone had their drinks and the platters of finger foods were eaten, someone proposed that Ignis opened his presents. After some convincing, he sat in a chair while Prompto handed him some crudely wrapped boxes. New Orichalcum daggers from both Prompto and Gladio ("Great for when you go off into battle. Gladio picked them up at the Medalcio Hunter's HQ a while back and we thought you could use a new weapon!"), coffee grounds and some rare cooking spices from Iris and Talcott ("It's not Ebony, but hopefully it'll do. And you can never have too many spices for cooking!"), the promise to buy however much alcohol he wanted from Cid and Cor, and then Aranea threw her present into Ignis' lap.

"Don't get too excited. It's not as awesome as everyone else's stuff," she griped. When he finally got the box opened, he reached in and picked up a book. Eyebrows knitted in confusion, he flipped through the pages and frowned, but Aranea was quick to explain. "It's the same book I started to read to you when we camped that time. We never got to finish it because your lame ass started to fall asleep, remember? I figured, between you not being able to read anymore and the fact that I haven't had time to get further in the book, we could read it together. Well . . . um . . . I could read it to you since obviously you can't read it yourself since you can't see and all if you want no need to commit to anything like I said it's a dumb gift," she said, her words one long run-on sentence of awkwardness.

"You're wrong," he smiled, flipping through the pages again. "It's not a dumb gift at all. In fact, it's the most thoughtful gift I think I've ever received. Thank you, Aranea."

Color flooded her cheeks, but she pretended like his compliment meant nothing to her. "Yeah, whatever. I mean, you only turn 30 once in your life, right?"

"32."

"Huh?" she looked confused.

"I'm 32. Not 30," Ignis corrected, placing the book back into the box and moving the box to the stack of other presents beside him. By this point, everyone had meandered away to converse more and Aranea remained, towering over Ignis as he sat in the chair with his second cold beer of the night in his hand.

Aranea couldn't believe that so many years has flashed by. She could've sworn it had only been 7, maybe 8 years. Ignis could virtually hear her thoughts and he took a sip of his beer. "9 and a half years of darkness, give or take. I'm as thrown as you are. A bit strange how fleeting time can be, even when you don't feel you have much to hold on to."

"Damn, Specs. That's a bit dark."

"Such is my life these days," he joked, albeit with a hint of sardonicism. It didn't stop Aranea from snorting out a quiet laugh and they both were relieved that, even in the midst of hell, they could still find humor in the darkest of situations with each other

Both went their separate ways for a few hours, Aranea gravitating toward Biggs and Wedge and occasionally Iris. Prompto and Cindy, on the other hand, declared that the party was too quiet for their tastes and opened the doors of the bar to the general population of Lestallum. As more and more people crammed inside, dying to enjoy a night of fun and debauchery, Ignis slipped outside to one of the patio tables and chairs, appreciating the quieter atmosphere that the patio had to offer. Inside, the blonde duo turned the music up to its max and it sounded more like a nightclub than a dingy bar.

The songs crossfaded one into the next, their sounds blending into one incredibly long track. Ignis lost track of how long he'd been alone outside before someone joined him, scraping the chair against the ground and setting a shot of potent liquor in front of the both of them while taking a seat. The person didn't say anything else at first, so Ignis waited

"Hey," Gladio greeted stiffly, but he was trying nonetheless.

"Gladio."

It was tense but still comfortable. Weird, but familiar. The anger had completely subsided from the fight, but that didn't make this exchange any easier to start. Ignis heard Gladio edge the shot closer to him, almost as if this was his way to get the conversation going, but Ignis pretended he didn't notice. He loved Gladio dearly as they'd been friends forever, but he wanted his friend to talk. Say something. Not use a shot of alcohol as a social lubricant and hope that would suffice.

Gladio sighed. "Ok . . . look. I'm . . . sorry," he finally managed, though Ignis was sure the word probably tasted like acid coming out. "I'm really sorry. I hate not talking to you and this radio silence is killing me. I let my anger get the better of me and I never truly blamed Aranea for what happened, honest. I was pissed and scared and . . . fuck, Iggy, I wasn't thinking straight, ok? She was the accidental scapegoat and I shouldn't have gone after her, or you, like that."

Ignis pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, considering this apology. Of course, he knew he was no saint in the matter—resorting to violence in that second wasn't Ignis' proudest moment, so there was that. He sighed, echoing the same sentiments that Gladio was no doubt feeling right now. "It was a hectic situation, indeed. I fear you forget that I know you better than you know yourself sometimes. I . . . also apologize for the role I played in that fight," he smirked. "But karma came for me in the form of bruised knuckles for a while for punching you like I did—though I'm sure my hit did little in the way of leaving a lasting effect on you."

Gladio chuckled. "My jaw ain't made of glass, you know. It takes a lot more than that to really hurt me. But, I gotta hand it to you, you landed a nice punch. Stunned me for sure."

One more time, Gladio nudged the shot glass to his friend. "So? Can we lower our weapons and wave the white flags? Realize that I'm a total asshole and I deserved what I got?"

Ignis took the shot in his hand. "Let's let bygones be bygones." He brought the shot to his nose and immediately pulled away at the scent, his face pinched with disgust. "Bloody hell, this smells like pure rubbing alcohol."

"It's the best shit that Rosaline—err, I mean, the bartender—has," Gladio recovered his slip up too late and Ignis raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Close enough with the bartender to know her name?"

"Ahhh, shut it. Anyway, a few of these and you'll be on your ass in no time."

"Well, if it's all the same with you, I'll just take one."

Together, they raised their shots and Ignis felt Gladio's calloused hand on his shoulder. "To you, brother. Here's to hoping this year will be your best year yet. Happy birthday."

With sharp inhales and tentative smiles, they slammed the glasses to the table and quickly brought them to their mouths, the liquid damn near painful going down their throats. They made various faces, waiting for the burning to subside as it warmed every inch inside their chests.

"Shit," Gladio hissed, regaining the use of his voice before he took a swig of beer to rid the taste of the liquor.

"Indeed."

Two more pairs of footsteps—no doubt Cor's and Cid's, Ignis judged—approached and Ignis turned his ear toward them while Gladio waved them over.

"Well, if it isn't Prince Noctis' Chamberlain and bodyguard," a gruff greeting from a voice tinged by age and a few too many cigarettes. Ignis smiled and nodded his head as he felt Cid's hand slap him on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Somehow, despite his years, Cid retained much of his strength and vigor. "Happy birthday, son. Havin' yourself a good time?"

"Yes, sir. Just catching up with Gladiolus over some drinks. What brings you and the Marshal out here?"

"You youngins and that shit you call music damn near causing my eardrums to rupture. I can't hear a goddamn thing anyone is saying to me. My granddaughter seems to like it, though, so I don't have the heart to have the staff turn it down," Cid complained.

"Mind if we sit with you? Trying to have a conversation in there is impossible," Cor asked, not wanting to intrude on Gladio and Ignis' discussion, but Cid was already pulling a chair out to sit so Cor reluctantly followed suit.

Cid never was a man known for his manners, or lack thereof.

They four fell into a steady stream of dialogue: tales of King Regis and Clarus, how Noctis wouldn't eat his vegetables no matter what Ignis did, the night that Gladio stumbled home from a high school party and Clarus was waiting in the wings of the hallway to scold him. Nothing was off limits tonight. They all laughed and even Cor could be heard chuckling a few times.

Then, the talk deviated down a more serious avenue. Cid leaned forward, elbows on the table, as he pointed a shaking finger in Ignis' direction. "So, a little birdie told me you might need my help soon."

"Sir?" he questioned, trying to wrack his brain as to what he'd need Cid's help for.

"Don't play dumb with me, son," Cid clucked. "That protégé of yours came and asked me to fix up Reggie's old boat again so you two could jet on over to that Angelguard Prison. Said you was too stubborn to admit you needed to go there and you needed a push to get your ass up and movin'."

Ignis scowled, more than vexed that Talcott went behind his back. "With all due respect, that is not his decision to make. We will make do with the information we have now. No sense in putting ourselves in danger just to figure out who the Chancellor really is—or was."

Gladio shifted in his seat, but it was Cor that said what the other men were thinking. "If you're serious about this research, it might be a trip worth considering. It's ok to be scared, Ignis. With everything you've been through, and with the recent incident outside the city limits," Ignis recoiled when Cor brought that up, "it's natural to want to stay within the confines of safety."

"Marshal . . ." Ignis warned, careful to keep an even tone so it wouldn't sound like he was defying him in any way. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Iggy, listen to the guy. He has a point," Gladio mumbled.

He felt cornered. "You don't understand the power that we're up against. Or, maybe you do, who knows. I just don't think it's a wise move for myself and Talcott to get on a boat to Angelguard when we don't even know what is there anymore. Ardyn may have said it's not a trap, but what if it is? What if we get there and we're ambushed? No slight at Talcott, but I can't say we'd survive just the two of us if there was something there waiting for us. After all, let's be frank; there's only so much I'm capable of doing."

Cor nodded, pondering the response with a sip of his drink. "Would you feel more comfortable if I sent someone like, say, Commodore Highwind along with you?" he proposed. "I feel strongly that Highwind would be a great candidate to accompany you. Perhaps I could talk her into joining you? I know she's fairly busy, but I think I could possibly send her your way for a few days."

Gladio snorted and received two confused looks and one glare that could kill, if possible. "Gladiolus," Ignis clipped, using his full first name to hammer home just how irritated he was getting. "Something funny?"

Shaking his head, Gladio waved him off and shut his mouth by chugging the rest of his beer. Then, Cid leaned back and sneered. "Ahhhh, now I see. It's funny because of course she would accompany you. The girl is crazy for you. The Chamberlain and the Commodore; a power couple in the making."

Ignis balked at the suggestion. "Yes . . . I mean, no! Errr . . . well, she's an attractive woman from what I remember, but she . . . Marshal, Cid . . . I . . ."

By now, Ignis had gone ten different shades of red, stuttering and stammering inarticulate words and phrases. The sight of the Royal Advisor unable to defend himself under such scrutiny made the other men roar with laughter.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Aranea interrupted, quieting them with her velvety voice, though a few snickers still manage to escape. "Mind if I steal the birthday boy for a dance?"

Gladio couldn't help himself as he buried his head into the crook of his elbow on the table and laughed. "It appears my friend has a case of the giggles," Ignis excused dryly as the redness of his cheeks dulled and his natural color returned. "Also, I don't imagine the type of dancing I'm familiar with would suit this sort of music."

Aranea rolled her eyes, her hands on her hips. "Oh, Gods no, Specs. We'd be laughed right out of this joint if we did any of that formal, stuffy waltzing shit here. No, you're following my lead tonight."

Oh.

He appreciated her request, but the dancing that she had in mind wasn't something he'd ever been comfortable with. It wasn't that he hadn't ever gone out with Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto and tried it. Gods know he'd been pulled out onto the dance floor numerous times by various women and he really did try, in the midst of hundreds of other lust-driven and sweat-slicked bodies, but his overanalytical mind usually ruined everything when he questioned if he was moving ok, if his hand was placed in the right spot. If the girl was having fun. If. If. If. It was never enough for him to just go with the flow. He'd typically end up frustrated and stormed back to the bar, where he'd remain hidden until the rest of the guys, drunk and breathless, sought him out so they could leave.

Her fingers were now reaching for him, pulling at his striped shirt sleeve insistently as he sat steadfast in his seat. The bass of the dance song playing throughout the bar was deafening, even though he was outside, and Ignis predicted a headache in his near future, brought on by the pounding music and maybe one too many beers. He didn't want to dance, his face pleading but he still wore a polite smile.

In a last-ditch effort, he waved away Aranea's hand, fumbling with an excuse, but irritated that he needed an excuse at all. It was his birthday; wasn't a simple 'no' enough? He moved to grab his drink, growing warmer as he'd been nursing it for far longer than he meant to, but Cid groaned and kicked Ignis under the table. Hard. It would leave a bruise on his shin in the morning for sure.

While cursing under his breath, Aranea took the opportunity to yank him up by the bicep and pull him away from the three men. Ignis could almost hear Cid ragging on the two of them over the beat of the music and then the faint clinking of his, Cor's, and Gladio's bottles as they toasted to Ignis' misfortune.

The dance floor was sparse of people, that much he could tell. The lack of anyone around him made Ignis strangely self-conscious. Either Aranea didn't notice or she ignored how stiff he was because she now had an arm draped up his shoulder and around the back of his neck, moving her hips into his.

He'd been up against the biggest of daemons, faced down the Niflheim Empire, ventured into the darkest of dungeons in all of Eos. All of that, the fear he felt in those moments, couldn't compare to the absolute trepidation he was feeling right now while dancing with Aranea Highwind.

Aranea leaned into his ear, beer on her tongue. "I thought you said you could dance," she teased, her fingers playing with the fine hairs on his hairline at the back of his neck.

"I can in a professional setting," he yelled back.

"Oh, pull the stick out of your ass and have fun for once."

"Pardon?" he said, reaching up to grab her hand from his neck but her laughter stopped him.

"You heard me! Let loose for once in your life and just dance with me!"

He wanted to push her away. He tried with every fiber in his being to tell her that he was incredibly uncomfortable with this, that he just wanted a nice night of drinking and talking with friends on the night of his birthday, but he knew she wouldn't listen. Then, he felt her turn away and suddenly her ass was pressed into him and her left hand was in his hair, moving just so it would entice him enough. She dropped low to the ground, practically sitting on the floor, before rising slowly, making sure to take her time as she straightened up in his hips, resting only for a split second over the crotch of his pants. Ignis felt his face flush and they both knew exactly what it was she was doing.

They weren't dumb.

One side of him wanted to deny her and walk away, to knock back a few more beers and just chill. His other side screamed for him to stay. After all, when was the last time that he really threw caution to the wind? He didn't have anyone to answer to right now and the object of his affections was literally in his hands, begging for him to give in with every move and every touch.

Who did he have to answer to right now, anyway?

For a brief second, he felt her hesitate, sensing that he truly wasn't comfortable with the situation, but his hands flew to her hips, holding there and stopping her from leaving. The tempo picked up and he inched one hand down slightly and let his other hand join hers, interlacing his fingers with hers as they were still curved around the back of his neck. He realized she was wearing a tank top as her arms were completely bare all the way up to her shoulders and he noted she was just a little taller than usual, concluding that she must have been wearing her high-heeled boots that night. Tank top, jeans, her boots . . . the image of her in his head was enough to end him right there.

In that moment, he let go. All of his hang-ups, all of his inhibitions, everything that was holding him back. He let it all go, chalking it up to the alcohol. Sure, he thought. That would be his excuse. It was the alcohol.

It certainly wasn't the fact that a very attractive woman (as his memory recalled) was grinding into him, the heat between them unmistakable.

His fingers dug into her thigh, her blue jeans flesh against her tight, muscular physique, and he smiled at the feeling of her hand in his on his neck. Aranea reciprocated his unexpected eagerness with another slow dip down to the ground, once again slow in her ascent. He bit his lower lip to stifle a moan and knew if she continued dancing the way she did, she'd notice his arousal for sure.

"A bit of a dangerous game, wouldn't you say?" he cautioned.

"What?" she replied innocently, her doe-eyes shining as she glanced over her shoulder at him, barely able to make out his features in the dark bar. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

If it weren't for the music, Aranea would have heard him hum a sarcastic response, but the only thing she was able to make out was his tightened grip on her hips, twitching and wanting to take things further but gentlemanly enough to remain where they were for decency's sake. He leaned into her, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on her neck, salty and damp from sweat.

For the entirety of the next song, both danced in sync with each other, her ass pressing precariously into his pelvis. The beat faded into a much faster tempo and Aranea turned around, now placing both her arms around Ignis, loving to watch how he seemed to melt when she played with his hair. She smirked as she felt one hand snake up her back, palm against her while his other hand remained steady on her hip. It was hot and the bar had begun to reek of sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes, but they didn't mind. They were too lost in each other to care.

Even now as Ignis found himself grinding against her, trying his damnedest to remain present and focused, it was utterly useless. She'd broken him. Completely and mercilessly tore down his walls without any remorse and left him wanting more. She was his drug and he was an addict and Gods did he love it. The rush. The thrill. The sin of it all. Everything about her tantalized him in the best way. He felt like he was drowning in Aranea and everything she was and he had no want to be saved.

She looked up to see the edges of his lips pulled upwards, a devious thought on his mind, no doubt, and she leaned up to his ear. "You're so hot when you let loose, you know that?" When she saw him cock his eyebrow playfully, she laughed. "If I had known it would only take a few drinks and some loud music, I would have suggested this eons ago."

"Commodore, what is it you're secretly implying?" He pressed his forehead to hers and attempted to catch his breath—from the dance or his proximity to Aranea, he wasn't sure. They were close. Almost too close. Ignis couldn't recollect a single time that they'd been so close to each other and he cursed himself for letting so much time go by before they got to this point in their relationship. Friendship. Whatever it was, he didn't care right now.

Titles be damned.

He was vaguely aware that they were slowing their dance, though the music continued to blast around them. This moment was almost akin to the one where they shared that kiss, everything in the world coming to a halt. Ignis brought his hand from her back up to her neck and started to lean in, his lips almost on hers, but a dull flash of a light jolted him out of his attempt. Annoyed, he snapped his head up toward the source of the light and Aranea pulled away as well. Prompto ran up and smiled. "You guys looked really cozy, so I thought I'd snap a picture for prosperity's sake!" he yelled, turning his camera so he could show the couple—well, mostly Aranea—the snapshot, but he stopped short. Fear struck his heart at the look of pure loathing that Aranea shot him and he made a weird, inhumane whining sound, immediately retreated with his camera in hand as he took a few more random photos of the party.

Though the song still thumped its incessant bass, loud enough to feel in the pit of anyone's chest, Ignis realized how parched he was as he had difficulty wetting his lips. He extracted himself from her hands. "Shall I grab us a drink?" he suggested, heart beating fast and sweat falling down the side of his face. When did it get so hot in this bar? "Something other than alcohol? Best to stave off the dehydration now to avoid a hangover tomorrow."

Aranea shook her head. "No thanks, Specs. I'm ok for now," she said. "If you want to get back to the bar, the path behind you is clear so you can just walk straight back and not hit anything along the way."

"Are you sure you don't want anything? I'd be more than happy to get you something. I am, after all, the guest of honor, apparently," Ignis smiled. A genuine smile. One that Aranea hadn't seen in so long and, for a brief second, she debated taking him up on the offer, if just to get lost in his smile for a little bit longer. But she declined and excused herself, saying she needed some air. Or, at least, that's what Ignis thought she said. He tried to get her to stay but, just as quick as she'd been to grab him before their dance, she was gone, leaving Ignis standing alone on the dance floor.

In the back of the bar, where the pool tables were, Prompto found respite from the angry Commodore and displeased advisor, promptly taking over for Cid in the pool game that was currently ongoing between him and Gladio. All three watched when Aranea walked away from Ignis.

"Great job," Cid said sarcastically.

Prompto groaned his displeasure. "I wasn't trying to get her to leave! I just thought they looked too good together not to get a picture!"

Cid's laugh devolved into a coughing fit, only remedied by another long sip of his beer. Gladio lined up his shot, one eye closed as he brought the pool cue back. He struck the billiard ball just right so that it banked off the far corner, coming back and nudging the nine ball into the side pocket. "Bets on whether they seal the deal tonight?"

Prompto rubbed the cube of chalk over the tip of his cue, rolling his eyes dramatically. "No way. The furthest they've gone is kissing, and even that took forever! If they haven't had sex by now, they probably never will. Besides," he tapped his foot impatiently, "did you not see how she totally just abandoned him?"

Gladio straightened up, assessing the table and pointing his stick. "Back pocket," he declared. Before he bent over to take the shot, he smirked. "Yeah, but I have a good feeling about tonight."

Cid agreed, but Prompto was still skeptical. "I know that smirk. That's the smirk of a plan forming in your head."

"Oh, do I ever. Just a matter of getting them alone 's all."

Pulling the stick back a couple of times, and with a clean strike, he made contact with the white ball and it smacked against the eight ball with a loud crack, sending it clear across the table into the pocket that Gladio called.

It was getting late and the party dwindled. The string of Lestallum citizens coming in and out of the bar soon ceased. Much to Prompto's dismay, Cindy escorted her grandfather back to his apartment and she headed home to Hammerhead. Iris, Talcott, and Cor sat outside with their drinks and enjoyed each other's company without having to worry about daemons for once.

Inside, Ignis sat at the bar with Gladio and a dejected Prompto, the three of them chatting animatedly with the bartender. Ignis couldn't help but smile at how happy Gladio sounded when talking to her—Rosaline, was it? Ignis thought. When Gladio noticed that Ignis was losing steam, stifling a yawn with knuckles brought to his mouth, he beckoned for Aranea—standing in a corner while Biggs and Wedge played darts—to come over.

"Hey, could you do us a solid and walk Ignis back to the room? He can't hang with the big kids anymore and he could really use help getting all those presents back home," Gladio asked when she got close enough while Ignis shot him a look.

"Um . . . sure?" Aranea shifted skeptically. "I mean, I'd be happy to, but why can't you or Blondie take him?"

Prompto, at first confused that Gladio was putting this on Aranea, caught on to his plan and he moved to the edge of his stool. "Well, we're not ready to leave yet!"

"What makes you think I am?" Ignis scoffed as Aranea's eyes drifted from one man to the next and then back to Ignis. With a shrug, she chugged the last bit of her beer and leaned between Gladio and Ignis, one hand resting on the advisor's shoulders while her other hand slammed the beer bottle on the bar counter.

"This party was getting pretty lame anyway. I was ready to leave a half hour ago. Come on, Specs. Let's get your stuff and walk you home."

"But . . . really, I'm . . ." He tried to reject the thought of going home, but another yawn quieted him and he conceded to leaving with Aranea, unable to figure out why Prompto and Gladio were so eager to have him leave with her. With some parting words and another round of 'happy birthday's' from everyone, Aranea gathered up the handful of gifts and Ignis fell in step with her as they spilled out into the familiar damp air of Lestallum.

They made small talk on the way home, strangely awkward with each other, especially after their sexually-charged dance. It was as if the last years were moot and they were brand new to the idea of conversing together. More than once, they'd accidentally interrupt the other and apologies were made. It was embarrassing.

Finally, they made it to the Levelle and ambled up the stairs together. Ignis unlocked the door and stood aside, holding it open while Aranea scooted inside, balancing the handful of presents in her hands. Once inside, Ignis closed the door softly and moved around the room, turning on one light for her as she placed the presents on the table in the corner on top of the mess of papers and books that were left from earlier. Outside, there was quiet chatter in the streets. If they didn't know any better, tonight seemed just like a regular night out with friends. No death. No destruction. No apocalypse.

Crossing her arms, Aranea turned to the man who'd become her constant companion since the world went dark. "I hope you had fun, Specs. I know you probably were upset with me for dragging you away earlier, but I hope it was worth it. You deserve a good time once in a while," Aranea broke the silence, playing with her hands but never averting her eyes from him. They stood on opposite ends of the room, the space almost like a giant chasm between them.

"I did. Thank you. You all went above and beyond to ensure I had a great time. It was perfect. Everything I imagined."

Aranea nodded, opening her mouth and then shutting it. He stared at her with that beautiful smirk of his and it scared her enough that she averted her gaze to the floor. Scared her. He scared the ever-living shit out of her.

She looked back up and smiled, but it was forced and lacked emotion. "I should go. You're probably exhausted. Long day, right?" she laughed nervously.

Ignis grunted his assent but barely moved aside as she strode toward the door, attempting to skirt around him. He grabbed her arm. "Stay," he whispered.

The actions and the words tumbled from his mouth before he could even stop them and it was in that moment that he realized what exactly Prompto and Gladio had in mind when they coerced Aranea to walk him home. They saw it. Everyone saw it. The whole damn world saw it. It seemed he was blind in more ways than one, but tonight he would force himself to see what was right in front of him.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You don't have to leave," he breathed. "Stay the night. Stay with me."

Her mouth went dry and words evaded her as she blinked rapidly. He gently pulled her closer but she yanked her arm away, her heart thudding hard inside her chest. "What are you doing, Ignis?" she hissed, only to watch his face fall. "We can't. I can't. You . . . No. This can't happen."

"Aranea?"

"I have to go. You need to get some sleep and obviously you've had way too much to drink."

He still looked wounded and she could see his heart break before her eyes.

"I'm perfectly cognizant. I—"

"Well, then you don't know how to handle your alcohol, clearly," she retorted, nearly stumbling over her own words.

Ignis attempted to reach for her again but she backed away. "I thought . . . Surely I'm not mistaken? I thought—"

"You thought wrong." She stormed toward the door. "Good night, Ignis. I'll see you later."

"Aranea—"

"I said good night."

"Wait!"

"What?" she snapped with her hand on the doorknob, throwing a glare over her shoulder.

His hands were clenched by his side and he tried to fight it. This wasn't the moment. She still needed time. No, he couldn't do it. But the words bubbled up inside of him and he couldn't stop them and he could only imagine the shock on her face as the words were finally spoken out loud for the first time.

"I love you."

Author's Note: Well, this chapter definitely got away from me! A lot happened during this party and a short chapter wouldn't do :) And I know I'm an evil person for the cliffhanger, but you still love me, right? ;)

I am so excited with everyone's reaction to Ardyn in my last chapter! I wasn't anticipating that big of a reaction, so obviously I did something right when I wrote him.

Usually, when I write these author's notes, I never remember what to say and then, as soon as I go to post, everything I wanted to write comes right back to my brain. I'm at that point right now where I know I had a ton to say, but I can't seem to remember. So, meh shorter author's note today with absolutely no point to it lol!

I love you guys so much and all the love I receive with every chapter. You guys really don't know how much it means to me :) I say that every week, but it's true!