Author's Note: I think, after 4 months and 16 chapters, you all have been patient enough. Remember, I rated this M for a reason :)

Water Under the Bridge
Up in Flames

"I love you."

Aranea froze, her hand gripping the doorknob so hard that her knuckles were white. She counted, forcing herself to breathe. All of a sudden, every snappy comeback and every snarky remark fled her mind. She couldn't think. Couldn't move. All she managed was a "what?" about five octaves higher than her typical voice.

"I said I lo—"

"No . . . I heard what you said, I'm not deaf. I . . . what?" she squeaked. If he weren't so damn anxious right now, Ignis may have found her loss for words cute. She was probably staring at him with the look of utmost bewilderment. He took a deep breath, but it didn't calm his nerves. In fact, it only served to make him even more aware of just how stressful this situation was.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, repeating what she'd asked him before.

"Aranea, I love you. I've loved you for longer than I care to admit. You can't stand there and deny that you feel it, too. Why else would you have pulled me on the dance floor tonight? Gifted me that book for us to read together? Continue to find reasons to spar with me, even when it's clear that I am capable of fighting on my own? That kiss we shared in your room? I can keep going. I have a memory like a steel trap, Aranea."

"I . . . I don't . . . Please don't . . . "

He took a couple of cautious steps forward but still kept a fair distance. He was afraid if he stepped any closer, it would intimidate her. Everything about right now was intimidating enough. "Give me one reason—one valid, honest-to-Astrals reason why this wouldn't work. Or, why you don't want it to work. Give me one good reason Aranea because it's killing me that you continue to give me mixed signals."

"Oh, fuck off!"

Ignis caught her arm before she could fathom fleeing. "Tell me. Just tell me!"

She exploded, emotional word vomit spewing from her. "Fine! You want to know why I'm hot one minute and cold the next? It's because I can't lose you! You have no idea how hard I've worked to keep everything and everyone away just so I don't have to go through the heartache of having them taken from me like he was," she yelled, referring to the man she once loved in her younger years. "I've tried every fucking day to put my feelings for you aside, but you . . . Ignis, I don't think you know how much you mean to me and how it tears me apart that this can all be taken away. It's fucking debilitating to think how strong my feelings are and that tomorrow something could happen and it—you—could be gone."

Ignis' hand went lax on her arm. "I haven't forgotten about him, Aranea. I know it may seem like I have, but I haven't. What happened between you two and his fate was unfortunate, but you're living your life by running from everything. Please, stop running and stay here—right here—with me. If I must fight down every daemon in Eos or face Ardyn head on, I will if it means I return home to you. Come Ifrit's lair or high water, I will always find my way back to you. You'll never lose me."

There was quiet, but then Aranea hurled another defensive excuse. "Well, what happens when the Prince comes back, hm?" she snapped.

"Aranea—"

"What? You seem pretty damn sure that he's returning. What about when he does? You'll pick right up and go back to his side, leaving me here."

"On the contrary; you would come with me."

"Funny. You know damn well there's not enough room for me in that relationship."

Ignis shook his head. "Have you not listened to a single word I've said? For you, I would make room. I wouldn't . . . I couldn't go back to Insomnia without you. It's not even a thought in my mind to leave you behind. You, Aranea Highwind, are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Before you, I had nothing. I was robbed of my sight, His Highness vanished, I could no longer viably fight alongside my friends . . . I was praying for Ramuh to strike me dead. Yes, I was waiting and praying for my own death. That's how despondent I'd become."

The cold and frank way he said that knocked the wind out of her, but he continued. "Then, you came along. You saved my life. You made me—forced me—to be someone I aspired to be and, along the way, you made me fall for you. Don't you see? We can't go the rest of our lives playing 'what if' anymore. 'What if I die tomorrow', 'what if you get sent away and don't come back', what if . . . there's already so much 'what if's' in this world right now, but we can end one of those right now. There's no 'what if' on how I feel about you. I love you."

She didn't say anything and continued to gape at him. Ignis took her silence as rejection and he stood taller, his stance rigid. "If you don't feel the same, then go," he whispered, giving her an out if she needed to take it. "I ask that you not pity me. It would be a bitter pill to swallow, but I would go on with my life as I'm sure you would with yours. I'd look back on these moments spent together with fondness if that's what you wish. I will leave you alone and won't speak of this again."

She was mute. Ignis wanted to yell for her to say something. Dear Gods, say anything. He wasn't sure how much more of this uneasiness he could take and, though he could only see darkness, he felt the need to avert his eye to the ground, his shoulders slumping.

At least he'd given it his all. He laid it all out there for her, but it wasn't enough. Ignis wasn't going to force her to love him and he wouldn't convince her if she was truly adamant that this was what she wanted. If she wanted him to leave her alone for good, he'd do that.

"No."

He snapped to, almost certain that he'd heard her wrong. Right? Did she . . . Was this . . . "What?"

Aranea shook her head, her voice barely audible. "I won't go. You know fucking well I can't."

Before Ignis had any time to comprehend her words or the meaning behind them—before he could ask her to elaborate—she grabbed him by the suspenders and threw him against the wall with such force that he thought he may very well crash into the next room. That would have been enough to stun him, but her lips were pressed hard against his as she simultaneously pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. Every synapse was alight with burning desire, leaving no room anywhere in his psyche to even consider the very thought of being stunned. She tugged him into her, again, by his suspenders and kept him there. She wanted this. Judging by the way she was biting his lower lip, her tongue playing with his with a needing desire that rivaled his own, she'd been wanting this for a long time.

Well, he wasn't one to keep a lady waiting and he wasn't about to start now.

Bringing one hand up to the side of her face while his other hand rested—no, more like gripped for dear life—on her hip, he put every emotion and every single loving thought he'd ever had about this woman into kissing her in return. Ignis wanted her to know that words alone would never convey the depth of what he felt for her.

Their kiss deepened and his back was against the wall. The soft sounds Aranea made into his mouth were turning him on faster than he ever thought possible. In an effort to give himself some relief from the gnawing urge to bed her right there, he tried to push her pelvis into his with a forceful hand, maybe squeezing her a little tighter than he meant to when he heard her hiss quietly.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't—" he apologized, wincing at the mere suggestion that he caused her any pain whatsoever.

She laughed. "I'm not a delicate doll, you know. Don't stop on my account." But he still wasn't convinced. Keeping her eyes on him, she turned her face into his bare hand, lips fervently kissing his palm. Ignis gasped as she captured one, then two of his fingers in her mouth, sucking slowly. Her tongue moving sinuously. He was paralyzed by what she was doing. What she was implying.

And she knew it. She fucking knew it.

She did this for a little longer before Ignis was so wound up with sexual tension that he ripped his fingers from her mouth, needing her lips on his again. This time, he wasn't as gentle as he had been before, his hands threaded through her hair and his teeth nipping at her lower lip.

Aranea's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, almost growing frustrated enough to rip the damn thing apart. But she finally got to the final button and her hands were now on his bare chest. "Fucking hell," she mumbled in between heated gasps and breaks in their kiss. "It's a crime to keep this body hidden under the damn outfits you wear."

Ignis mumbled a half-coherent thank you, though a red blush spread over his cheeks and down his chest at the compliment. Her fingers fluttered over his sides and she smiled as he reacted. "Sensitive?" she purred as she brought her hands up to his shoulders, removing his shirt and moving his suspenders so he was now topless with his suspenders dangling from the waistline of his pants. Aranea stopped, admiring him. His body. Everything. Slowly, she brought her face up to his, smirking as she removed his signature sunglasses from his face, surprised that he even let her.

But, in doing so, the act of removing the tinted glasses that had become a type of security blanket for Ignis brought a serious air to the room. In a moment of tenderness, contrasting with the heat and passion, she stood on her toes and brought his head down slightly, kissing his right eyebrow. His lower lip. The starburst-shaped scar that forever removed the sight from his left eye. She wasn't sure what came over her or why she did it, but it seemed right.

Ignis' chest heaved, his fingers tighter around her arms and Aranea pulled back, momentarily wondering if she'd made a mistake bringing his scars into the bedroom with them. He didn't move and her eyes searched his, looking for an answer. Something to tell her that he was ok.

Suddenly, it was Aranea against the wall as Ignis whirled her around and she was no longer in control. She smirked at his intense gaze, moving her head just enough to grant him access to her neck and, somehow, he understood. He nuzzled her head away further with his, kissing her cheek. Her ear. Her jawline. Licking the salty taste of perspiration and lust on her neck.

"It's not fair," Ignis' voice muffled into the crook of her neck. "I'm half-nude and you're still fully clothed."

She snickered, though it was more of a throaty snort than anything. "You have hands. Go ahead and make us equals, then."

Ignis didn't need to be told twice as he deftly reached for the hem of her tank top, lifting it over her head and then worked on getting her bra unclasped. When he did, she shrugged it off onto the floor. "There. Happy?" she said, standing before him completely shirtless, her pale skin practically glowing in the dim-lit room.

He tried to nod or give some sort of sign that, yes, he was happy, he was ecstatic, but instead he continued to cover her in kisses. Worshipping every inch of her body with his lips and tongue. He started to kneel before her, one hand unbuttoning her jeans while the other hand played with her breasts, teasing her nipple and eliciting a beautiful sigh. He wanted to hear that noise again and again if it was the last thing he ever heard.

Trailing kisses down her chest, rolling one nipple with his tongue, he wriggled her jeans slightly down her legs and her fingers dug into the back of his neck. It would have hurt if he weren't so overcome by desire. Finally, after deciding he'd riled her up enough, he was now kneeling before her, both hands firmly on her hips. He tugged at her underwear with his teeth, pulling them down so she was exposed to the air and he couldn't even bring himself to smile as she bucked toward him.

Aranea's hands were in his hair, grasping desperately as he worked her into a frenzy against that wall. Her face was tilted toward the ceiling and it took everything ounce of willpower to remain standing while he teased her with his tongue. He couldn't help but salivate over how sweet she tasted while using her moans and cues to learn what she loved.

"My . . . ah . . . can you . . . my boots . . . " she managed to stutter, wanting so badly to be out of her damn shoes. Ignis was enamored with the fact that she could barely put together a single sentence and Aranea looked down at him. "Specs, did you just fucking smirk while between my legs?"

Ignoring her question, he did as she requested, sliding one hand from her hip to the back of her boots, unzipping them slowly. Enticingly. Then, he moved to the other one but immediately pushed her, hard, against the wall again. "No," he demanded between breaths. "Leave them on, if not for a minute longer."

"Oh, have a kink for boots?" she teased.

Ignis didn't answer and Aranea was thankful when he went back to working his magic, drawing another gasp from her as he inserted one finger and then a second into her, crooking them so they pressed against the sensitive soft spot inside of her. She pulled his hair harder than before, her knees weak as his name died on her lips. He felt her tense up, nearing the edge of no return and he stopped, pulling his fingers out and leaning back to regard her with the smuggest look on his face. She wanted to smack it right off him.

Instead, she did one better.

Reaching down, she grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him up so he was standing again and she kissed him, biting, sucking, and licking his lips and chin. It was so arousing to taste herself on him and, judging by the way he was moaning into her, he agreed.

"You don't get to tease me and get away with it," she warned, kicking her boots off and then stripping out of her jeans and underwear so she was completely naked and a solid half a foot shorter than him. With a hand on Ignis' chest, Aranea pushed him backward several steps until the backs of his knees bumped the edge of his bed and she moved him to sit down. With a finger, she brought his chin up so he was looking at her. He was ravenous for her, hands perched on the bed and Aranea was sure she'd never seen the Royal Advisor look so disheveled and salacious. He was a beautiful sight, indeed.

Ignis' hands moved up her arms and he guided her onto the bed with him. As they fell back, Ignis tried to find her lips with his, but she evaded him. It was a game to her right now and he was playing right into it. He could practically feel the heat from her lips, swollen, all because of him. When he stretched up to her, trying once more to capture her in a kiss, she shook her head, her nose rubbing his in a teasing gesture. Instead, she shifted to straddle him, the heat between her legs settled not-so-subtly on his lap.

He tried to say her name. Tried to say something. But she encouraged him to lie back by gently nudging his shoulders down to the bed and he graciously obliged. When he was settled, she rewarded him with the kiss he worked so hard for before, parting his lips with her tongue and rolling her hips into his. When he hissed a beautiful sound of pleasure, she repeated the action again. And again. And again, each time grinding against the erection that pressed against his pants.

Dull fingernails dug into her thighs and she shot up, massaging her hands into his shoulders. "Ignis," she said, "it's not fair; I'm completely naked and you still have your pants on."

"You have hands," he sneered, echoing the words she teased him with when he said the same thing to her at the beginning of their session, "make us equals, then."

Her hair fell around him as she hunched forward to kiss him again. Ignis was almost a little peeved when she withdrew again, but her kiss moved to his neck, the sensitive spot on his collarbone. She kissed his chest, his sides. His abs. Her tongue drew a long line from his belly button to his trousers and she smiled as he shifted under her, his head still set firm in his pillow as he kept his face toward the ceiling. She had barely begun to do a single thing to him and he was already utterly debauched.

Aranea rested her cheek on his thigh, her eyes blown back with lust as she stared at him. She stayed like that for longer than necessary, as evident by Ignis sitting up on his elbows. "Is . . . ah . . . um . . . is something wrong?" he asked, writhing impatiently.

"No." Her hand, before on his knee, was now inching closer to his lap. His arousal. Oh Six, what had he gotten himself into?

"You're Ifrit reincarnated, you know that?" he mumbled, much to Aranea's chagrin.

"Oh, am I? Would Ifrit's reincarnation do . . . this?" she baited, palming him through his pants. Ignis groaned and threw himself back into the bed again, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Sheesh, Specs. I barely touched you! When was the last time you got any action?"

Ignis snarled and that was more than enough for her to keep going. With nimble fingers, she unbuttoned his pants, dragging the zipper down agonizingly slow. Ignis wasn't a man to curse much, but every vulgar and improper word flashed through his mind as he waited for Aranea to finish. When she figured she'd tortured him enough, she tugged at his pants, then his boxer briefs, and finally released his member. "Hm. Looks like I've got my work cut out of me," she giggled, wrapping her hand around him while he shifted to kick his pants off.

When he was completely unclothed, vulnerable to the air, he sat up again on his elbows, though it wouldn't do much as he couldn't see her anyway. It was more of a habit or just something to do until either one made their next move. Another smirk tugged at the corners of Aranea's lips as she watched him. "You know, I meant what I said earlier," she whispered, breath ghosting over the erection in her hand. "About you being hot when you let loose? Well . . . you should see yourself right now, Specs. You look gorgeous."

And, with that, she took as much as she could in her mouth and Ignis threw himself back onto the mattress, grasping for purchase as she bobbed her head up and down. Sure, he'd been starved for touch. Affection. Whatever. But, he'd never realized just how starved he was until this moment. This felt . . . Gods, could anything else feel as good as this? Her mouth sucking and humming on him, tongue flicking just right. He should've felt embarrassed at how free he felt, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Ignis was pretty sure he heard himself say her name, but he wasn't sure anymore what was real and what was just lust playing with his mind. The sheets bunched in his fists and he was vaguely aware of Aranea telling him to stop keeping quiet. So, he did as she requested and let go, allowing himself to moan a little louder. Curse a little more. With every mewling cry and every shout of unabashed pleasure, she took him deeper and played with him more.

If someone tried to ask him his name, where he was from, or what today's date was, he'd be clueless. Every thought, every fleeting contemplation, was focused on this moment.

He could have finished right then and there and Astrals did he want to, but he wasn't ready. With a harsh tap to her shoulder, he gasped for air as she stopped, confused. "Aranea, please. I . . . let me . . . "

Except, he didn't want to finish the sentence. He wanted to show her just what he needed from her. As she'd done prior when he kneeled in front of her, he reached down to grab her by the arms, pulling her up while at the same time moving gracefully—if he did say so himself—to settle on top of her between her legs. He was holding himself over her, hands on either side of her head.

"What is it you want?" she needled, her nails grazing from the top of his back, down to his ass and grabbing it without a single care. His eyes pinched shut and his mouth opened in a silent moan. Nails again down his back. Another thing—love marks—he would normally abhor but couldn't find it within himself to be concerned with that right now. In fact, he welcomed it. He almost wanted Aranea to mark him. Possess him. Make him hers.

Almost wanted it?

Oh, who was he kidding?

He was an absolute wreck for the woman under him right now.

"I . . . Aranea, I don't know how long . . . look, I hope you're not expecting—"

"Hey, Ignis?" His arms were beginning to shake at the weight he was putting on them and he tried to ignore it. Then, he heard the sweetest words, though crude, he ever thought he'd hear in his life. "Shut up, and please fuck me."

And he did. He sunk into her and they both moaned to the Gods above. As soon as he was inside of her, the warmth enveloping him, he lowered all his weight onto her and laid sloppy kisses over her once more. Her jaw, her lips. Her sharp cheekbones. He wished on everything that he could see what she looked like right now. It wasn't fair. It was downright cruel that he was relegated to a life of darkness, unable to see the one whom his heart sang for, but he'd negate that with every kiss. Every breath. Every brush and touch of his lips to every square inch of her would create a new image for him that he would commit to memory.

They moved rhythmically. She met his every thrust and allowed him to direct her hands above her on the pillow, interlacing fingers. Perspiration was forming on their brows, between their chests, making every movement slick. Hot. More than they could handle.

He was enjoying this, shocked that he'd lasted this long, but suddenly he was up on his knees all because Aranea pushed him up. She was quick, kneeling as well and breathing in his ear as she bit his earlobe. "Let's go to the wall."

"You don't—?" he was learning real quick that Aranea knew exactly what she wanted in the bedroom and he gave silent thanks to all six of the Gods for blessing him tonight.

She had him by the hand and dragged him to the nearest wall from his bed. With her hands on the disgusting blue wallpaper and ass sticking out, she faced the wall eagerly. Ignis wasted no time, running his hands down her back and between her legs as he found her, hot and waiting. He didn't want to play around anymore though, and neither did she. So, he lined himself up and thrust into her, bringing his hands to her breasts to stimulate her even more. She cried out in pure ecstasy and wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop. This was just too good, Ignis fucking her against the wall.

"Darling, say my name," he pleaded, hoarse and with desperate want.

Aranea obliged, whining and crying his name so loud, they'd both be surprised if all of Lestallum hadn't heard it. Ignis went wild, thrilled that she wasn't a silent lover. Something about her flagrantly screaming his name drove him crazy. He asked her to say it again and, with wild abandon, she did so while pushing back against him, creating more friction and tension. Her nails scraped against the wall while he dug into her hips hard enough to leave bruises.

They were so close, both of them. Near the tipping point. There was so much more Ignis wanted to do, but it was a losing battle to his ever-throbbing member still inside of Aranea. He didn't want to wait anymore. He couldn't.

With a bite on her shoulder, he stopped and threw her back to the bed, climbing on top of her as she arched into him. Ignis stayed, hovering over her, and he smiled. Aranea frowned and narrowed her eyes. "What? What are you waiting for? You get me all riled up with that and then stare at me with that weird look?"

Ignis kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then her lips. "I'm a lucky man tonight to be able to finally have you. All of you. I love you," he said, shocking Aranea to hear it again. But she knew exactly what he meant and pulled him down to her, another long and slow kiss to show what he meant to her. They made love, their kisses growing ever lazier and, yet, still romantic. They were one being—one entity. Nothing could come between them.

Aranea started to tense up as Ignis hit the sweet spot inside of her, over and over again. She wasn't sure how much longer she'd last, but she was trying to hold out for him. The look on his face told her that he was so enthralled with this and she didn't want to take that away from him. Not yet. But, ever the observant one, Ignis slowed down and brought his face closer to hers. "My love, don't hold back on account of me. This is as much for you as it is for me."

Nodding, Aranea surrendered her will to toe the edge of her peak. With a few more well-timed thrusts and his hands in the right places, Ignis could feel Aranea shudder under him, muscles rippling and nails clawing down his back as she came undone, repeating his name brashly. Working her through her orgasm, Ignis chased his release as well, stars exploding behind his eye as he moaned and whimpered into her mouth while finishing.

Boneless and spent, he collapsed onto Aranea, melting into her and listening to her heartbeat as it slowed. Her hands were in his hair and her nails were scratching along his shoulder blades and upper back, goosebumps appearing across his entire body. The after-effects of his orgasm left every part of his body incredibly sensitive and he was enjoying the beauty of the moment.

Ignis leaned up once more and kissed her softly, without tongue this time. At some point in time, he managed to get up and get the necessary items to clean themselves up. But, once that was done, Ignis crawled back in bed and pulled Aranea close, wrapping his arms around her tight abdomen, her muscles hard against him. One more kiss. One more tight squeeze.

He tried to stay awake, but his eyes were far too heavy to stay open anymore. Ignis drifted off to sleep with Aranea in his arms.

Ignis stirred, entangled in sheets that clung to him.

Sheets?

Just sheets?

The events of the night came back to him in a flurry of conjured images and he smiled. It wasn't a dream. Ignis had made passionate love to Aranea after finally confessing how he felt about her and they'd fallen asleep, wrapped up in limbs in a post-coital haze.

Turning over, he reached to the other side of the bed for Aranea, wanting to feel her. Hold her closer. Brush her hair from her neck and shoulders so he could wake her up with kisses and love bites. Instead, his fingers skirted a few folded and wrinkled pieces of paper scattered where she surely should have been lying, but that was all. Alarmed, he shot up and felt around for her, but it was true. The bed was still warm, but she was gone.

Ignis felt the rising anxiety burn his chest and distort his thoughts. With shaking fingers, he picked up one of sheets of paper and fought the urge to tear it up or crumple it. Instead, he tossed the paper aside and snorted. This was a cruel, sick game that Aranea was playing—sleeping with him and then leaving him a goodbye note that he couldn't read. How ridiculous was he to think that she would ever truly fall for him, only using him for a quick fuck and bolting before he could even wake up?

Gods, she had played him for a fool.

Then, a clearing of her throat. "Looking for me, Specs?"

Ignis whipped his head toward the kitchen, stunned to hear Aranea's voice standing in the entryway. "You didn't . . . you're still here? "

Her feet padded on the carpet and she came to the empty side of the bed, nudging his shoulder with a hot mug of something. It smelled like coffee, probably from his birthday gift. Tentatively, he took it with his jaw slightly dropped, still unbelieving of the fact that she hadn't left. She was here and he'd been so quick to assume the worst. The weirdest mix of guilt, elation, and relief surged through him, but he could only sit there and smile like an idiot.

When the cup was secured in his hand, Aranea scrambled into bed beside him, hugging her own mug to her chest while she cuddled close to his side. "What? You didn't think I'd actually leave you after last night, did you? Damn, you think that little of me?"

"You weren't in bed," he said dumbly as she ran her foot up and down his leg.

"I wanted some coffee. Didn't want to wake you or anything because you looked so damn relaxed for once. Did you know you have no worry lines when you're sleeping? I didn't think it was possible, but you don't. Oh, and you look about 5 years younger too."

Her fingers were tracing exactly where the creases would appear on his face when he was stressed, but they were nonexistent right now—a testament to how calm he was just sitting in bed with her at this moment. Then, they reappeared when he remembered waking up to the empty bed. "But . . . the papers?"

"Oh, ha. Yeah, those were the letters you kept in your nightstand. I got bored and wanted to see if you had any porno magazines or anything, but apparently, you're such a romantic that all I found were those damn letters." Ignis tilted his head and Aranea smiled. "What? I wanted to see what I wrote you, again. Call me sentimental."

He still hadn't touched his coffee as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Aranea was here. In bed. With him. He was still nude and she . . . wasn't? She was definitely wearing something, the fabric pressed into his side and against his arm.

Scrunching his nose in mock annoyance, Ignis asked, "Are you wearing my shirt?", to which Aranea hummed a soft noise to signal a confirmation. While he held the cup of coffee in one hand, he let his other hand trail up her thigh to where the edge of the shirt fell, passed her hips where he so lovingly noted she was still without her underwear, up her side and stopped when she giggled at his touch. Apparently, she was a little ticklish, twisting away from his fingers.

"It's more comfortable than me putting back on those damn jeans of mine and the tank top. So not overnight wear."

When she deemed it safe to curl back into his side, she moved back over and rested her head on his shoulder while he sat back against the headboard of the bed. They enjoyed the coffee in peace, Ignis sometimes pausing to kiss the top of Aranea's head. Everything felt as it should. What had taken them so long to get here? It was sweet and beautiful and oh so right.

The fact that Aranea had been looking at her letters again stayed on his mind. "Aranea," Ignis began, "what did your last letter say?"

She pursed her lips, swirling the coffee in her mug to keep herself occupied. "Why?"

"Well, something that weighed on my mind a lot since that night was the fact that you were home. There was no reason for you to hand over a letter at that point to alert me of your safety as you were standing right there with me in the kitchen. Perhaps I'm reading too far into things, but I have to wonder if there was something more in that letter that you, somehow, wanted me to know."

The silence stretched on and she continued to find swirling her coffee hypnotic. Ignis allowed her as much time as she needed, knowing that conversation and emotions were not the woman's strong suit. Finally, she took a deep breath and placed her mug on the nightstand. "I can . . . if you want, I can read it to you."

With a subtle nod, Ignis listened as she shifted over to snatch up one of the few unopened envelopes, dragging her finger across the top so that she could extract the letter from it.

There were a few half-hearted complaints and some proverbial dragging of the feet, but Aranea unfolded the letter and took a deep breath.

"My dearest Ignis," she began, voice quivering as nerves threatened to overtake her determination to read. "It has been almost nine months since I've seen your face, but who's counting anymore? Without you here, there's no purpose. No meaning to anything I do. It's hard waking up, not knowing if today will be my last day on this gods-forsaken planet. Not knowing if I'll return to you to confess what's in my heart. We lost a man on our team a couple of weeks ago, so forgive me, but death is weighing heavy on my mind.

Do you remember, way back when we were still so young when I camped with you and your friends? You cooked for me and forgave me for almost killing you guys. You smiled at me and I think I had a hunch then that I knew. I didn't want to admit it, but I think I knew then what I've only tried to deny ever since.

You're too good for me. You always have been. But now? You haven't seen what this world has done to people, but I have. In a fucked-up way, you got to maintain that chaste innocence and, as a result, you've stayed one of the good ones. I've already lost one man in my life that I loved with all my heart—I'm not sure I can do that again, were anything to happen to you. You're strong, you're brave, you're badass at what you do . . . but I'm not stupid to think you or I could die in this stupid dark world. I'm a coward, I know.

I suppose writing all of this in a letter when I know you'll never be able to read it is a shit-move on my part, but I can't bring myself to voice these things out loud to you. Please, Ignis, if I ever find the courage to admit everything in here, I pray to the gods (if they even listen to that bullshit) that you protect my heart. Protect us. Because, honestly, I'm not sure I'm strong enough to do that on my own."

At this point, Aranea looked up to see Ignis had placed his mug to the side and had draped his arm behind her, comforting her by holding her closer. He nudged her to continue but made it a little harder when he placed his head on her shoulder, kissing her neck and shoulder blade affectionately.

"I can't wait to finally get home to you. Maybe I won't be so stupid and I can finally tell you all these things to your face. Maybe. I don't know. I'm rambling now. I should just write it here. Ugh, why is this . . . ok. I love . . . I . .—"

The words almost left her mouth, written out on the paper in front of her, but Ignis had distracted her with his lips again. She turned into his arms, her lips parting as they kissed gently. Forgotten, the letter fell to the ground as he pulled her on top of him.

She didn't need to say the words.

It was obvious she'd loved him for a long time.

Author's Note: I have a lot I want to say, and honestly I had an entire thing written out, but I think maybe I'll let you guys tell me what you thought :)