Water Under the Bridge
Angelguard
"So then, I said I wanted to take Cindy out sometime because she's the angel of my dreams and stuff, but then—"
"Prompto, shut up. Hush! . . . Do you hear that?"
"Um . . . did I hear what?"
"SHHHHH . . . I hear something . . . it sounds like it's coming from . . . "
"Oh fuck. Dude . . . Gladio, that's Aranea's voice. In our bedroom."
"Holy fuck."
"SHIT DUDE THAT'S IGGY AND ARANEA IN OUR ROOM. Dude! Your plan worked! You totally called it! But . . . well, fuck! Now they're in our room, and it doesn't sound like they're gonna be done anytime soon."
"Well, what do we do? We can't cockblock and sleep there tonight."
"There's no cockblocking for this; they're already in the middle of whatever the fuck it is they're in the middle of."
"Sex, Prompto. It's called sex."
"Ughhhhh, no! Don't say that! Ignis doesn't have sex! He doesn't know how, ok? . . . UGH! I don't want to hear him moaning her name anymore! We gotta get out of here."
"Oh, yeah? And where do you think we should go? Some of us have to get some sleep so we can be on daemon duty for the next few days. I mean, you think Cor and Talcott have space in their room for us?"
"Hell no, their room is like two doors down from ours. We're in the fucking lobby and can hear those two going at it. I practically hear his balls slapping against her! No way, I'm not going to get any sleep if we stay with Cor and Talcott. Fuck it, let's see if Cid's still up. Maybe he has a spare couch or something."
". . . Not a bad idea. We can give Iggy hell for this in the morning, or next time we see him."
"Yeah, he definitely deserves some shit for making us look for somewhere else to sleep."
Cid thought maybe he'd be able to fix up the boat in a week, tops. Unfortunately, time and neglect wore the vessel down more than any of them could imagine and it would take some in-depth muscle work and a hunt or two for a new part to get it running again.
When he received the bad news that it would take two months at least—maybe sooner if Talcott was willing to put in longer hours to help, Ignis feigned disappointment. If he had to wait, then that's the way it had to be. He threw his hands in the air and sauntered off, his face twisted into a look of dejection that they would have to wait until the boat was fixed before anything more could happen with their studies.
Secretly, he was happy that this meant more time with Aranea.
Since their night of passion, they were damn near inseparable. If he was coming back from the rare case that he was on daemon duty lately, Aranea was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs in the Levelle lobby, ready to ravage him right there if he'd let her. If she was pouring over paperwork at the desk in her bedroom, Ignis' hands would just so happen to find themselves on her shoulders, under her shirt, carded through her hair. On the off chance that they both were free, Aranea would suggest they hone their lance and spear skills in the field where she used to spar with him, but it usually ended with them disheveled and panting as they threw their weapons aside in favor of a passionate make-out session that would quickly spiral into an explicit tryst against a tree.
In between the moments that they couldn't keep their hands off each other, they were laughing and talking about everything under the metaphorical sun. They shared coffee, Aranea would read the book she gave him for his birthday, and they'd sit or lie there in each other's arms, just enjoying the company. It was like the night of his birthday had destroyed the final brick in the wall between them and, without either one saying it, they were an official item.
Of course, this did not come without teasing from Prompto and Gladio.
"Heeeyyy . . . what's that on your neck, Iggy?" Prompto pointed out, a finger poking hard into the muscle of Ignis' neck as he stood over the stove, cooking a meal to bring to Aranea after a long day of work.
"Hmmm . . . that looks like a bruise, Prompto," Gladio chided from behind, sneering over his shoulder.
Ignis felt the familiar flush of embarrassment and irascibility heat the apples of his cheeks and spread down the back of his neck. Prompto knew he hit a nerve and twisted his finger deeper into the mark. "I think it's more than a bruise, Gladio . . . I would say that looks like a—"
"Alright, you two," Ignis yelled over their tongue-in-cheek banter, rolling his shoulder enough so that Prompto's hand was knocked away. The irritation of the two friends laughing at Ignis' love mark was enough for him to just throw the pan that he was cooking with down and storm out, but he didn't. He continued to man the stove patiently, counting minutes in his head and smelling the aroma of meat and vegetables in the room.
"Hey, Prompto! Do you think Aranea makes Iggy her bitch in the bedroom?"
"Oh, without a doubt! Have you not heard their screams in the bedroom? I swear, I've never heard Ignis moan so loud in my enti—"
Ignis now whirled around, spatula in hand, forcefully smacking the two out of the kitchen. "Will you two shut. Up. Now?"
"Iggy, it's perfectly natural to have a sex life!" Gladio sneered, landing a firm hand on Ignis' shoulder before he was shoved away again.
"Yes, but I'd rather keep my sex life private and away from you two if that's alright?" he scowled, eye narrowed and teeth clenched.
Prompto was now sitting on the edge of Ignis' bed, still laughing. "It's a little hard to keep something like that private when you have hickeys on your neck and you two are screaming each other's names loud enough that we can hear it in the lobby!"
"We do not!" Ignis decried, though he knew it just reaffirmed the inevitable truth. At this point, his normally pale face was as red as scarlet and he tried frantically to keep his focus on the food before him, but it was so hard when his two best friends were giggling and taunting him just feet away.
The laughter faded for only a second before Prompto whispered under his breath: "I bet she wears her heels in bed."
"I bet she ties Iggy up and has her way with him."
"He likes it."
"Oh, no shit, he likes it! You've heard the way he screams her name," Gladio chortled, moving on the bed suggestively, acting out what he was saying. "'Oh, Aranea! Yes, right there! Oh, Gods yes! Fuck me, please! I need you!'"
Prompto devolved into a fit of giggles, high-fiving the man while Ignis did a horrible job of pretending to ignore them. It's true, he had become quite loud in the bedroom and, no, he wouldn't change a single thing when it came to his and Aranea's sex life, but he still loathed the fact that Gladio and Prompto found every opportunity to rag on him for it. With a loud huff, he took the stir-fry off the stove and divided the food between two plates, reaching under him into a drawer for some aluminum foil to cover it on the trip down the hall.
Carrying plate in either hand, Ignis condescendingly glided from the kitchen, through the common area, and to the front door. He felt Prompto and Gladio's judging and focused eyes on him the entire time as he fumbled with the doorknob, finally pulling the door open to the brightly-lit hallway. With a surge of hostility, Ignis throw a glare over his shoulder and said, "You are just envious that I'm good at everything I do . . . including my bedroom activities."
It was supposed to throw them off and shut them up, but it only aroused more cheers and encouragements as Ignis rolled his eye and strutted out the door, letting it click loudly behind him as he walked down the hall to Aranea's bedroom.
He knew that she was home tonight. She'd been gone the last two days and a quick phone call from her alerted him that she would be waiting in her room for him to stop by. At some point in the midst of their ever-hastening relationship, they'd exchanged keys with each other on the off-chance that either one wanted to stop in and visit for a bit.
It was this key that Ignis used, balancing both plates on one forearm, to gain entry into Aranea's room. Iris would be out for the next night or so, slowly but surely getting back into the swing of things after her injury in Meldacio.
Upon entering her room, Ignis heard the sound of water running in the bathroom to his immediate right while steam billowed under the crack of the door. Knowing exactly where the nearest table was (Aranea gave Ignis a very detailed guided tour so he could move freely about, without worry of bumping or running into anything), Ignis set the two plates of food down, took his shoes off, and knocked on the bathroom door. Not a peep was heard, so he took his chances and opened the door, only to be assaulted by shower mist and humidity. "Aranea?" he called out, one foot still outside the bathroom in case he was mistaken.
There was the sharp sound of the shower curtain pulled aside and he couldn't help the smile that curled the edges of his lips as Aranea exclaimed his name in surprise. "Fuck, Ignis; I would have gotten ready earlier had I know you would be here so soon!" she reprimanded, the water still running as she stepped out. He felt her soaking wet hand on his arm, pulling him earnestly toward the tub. "But, now that you're here . . ." her voice trailed off as she hinted what's to come. "The water's still hot, after all."
"My love, I'm still dressed," he tried to protest, only half-heartedly pulling away from her but secretly loving how she didn't want to wait a single second to have him. It didn't take much for his resolve to crumble when it came to Aranea, stepping into the shower with her, clothes and all.
Immediately, her hands were all over him, peeling his gray t-shirt, soaked from standing under the showerhead, up over his body and onto the shower floor. Though only two days had passed, Aranea kissed him as if a million years had passed since her lips were on his. Ignis pulled his gloves off faster than he'd ever done before, tossing them somewhere behind him so that he could feel her body with his bare hands. He smirked as she leaned in, his name stifled by her burying her mouth into the crook of his neck.
"I missed you," she rasped, nails raking down his back to his pants. It was a far cry from the Aranea that Ignis had gotten to know over the last several years; the one that kept her heart closed off and guarded. They were having fun; carefree, innocent, but carnal and sensual all the same.
"I . . . Aranea, I made you dinner," he protested through kisses and gasps while she groped at his belt and pants, palming him roughly and smiling as he panted at her touch.
The water cascaded around them as they stood under the spray of the shower. Ignis pushed aside how uncomfortable, heavy, and tight his pants were getting as they took on more water, in favor of Aranea's firm touches and sharp nails. He may have snubbed Prompto and Gladio for noticing the hickey on his neck, but he'd ask Aranea to mark him again and again if it meant a lifetime of her in his arms like this.
"Dinner can wait. Unless you are on the menu," she breathed, her full lips tugging at his earlobe and her tongue licking along the shell of his ear. Gently, he allowed her to guide him against the tile of the shower wall. Ignis couldn't deny that he was absolute putty in her hands when she used that tone. He'd do anything for her.
"You . . . um . . . but you need to . . . ahhh . . . you need to . . . "
"No, what I need is you. Right here. Right now."
Well, if she insisted.
He was done objecting. With a curt nod, his eye rolled into the back of his head as she finally managed to worm him out of his pants and underwear—socks included. He wanted to tell her that she really needed to eat, if only to keep her strength up, but the words died in his throat as she kissed her way down his chest, abs, sides, and hips, all the way to his member, hard and waiting for her.
The tile felt cool on his back, a stark contrast against the warm steam and water that enveloped the pair in that shower. He leaned back and allowed her to take him in her mouth, moaning sweet nothings into the air as he threaded his fingers through her wet hair, gasping as she hummed on him, soft vibrations causing him to quiver involuntarily.
It would never get old, her lips on every exposed inch of him. For a while, he played nice and innocent, careful to not hurt her while they engaged in sexual acts, but it was never enough for her. Or, for him. Gradually, they learned that they loved the passionate hair pulls and the biting of the skin. The dirty talk. The scratching and needling until the other was almost ready to cave and cry 'uncle'.
He didn't plan on being seduced by the Commodore when he came into her room tonight. Honestly, he really intended to just bring her some dinner and maybe catch up before they fell asleep for the night, but he wasn't complaining as her tongue ran along his length and her hands found their way up his stomach, tracing the lines of his muscles that were his abs. His hips rocked and he tugged at her hair to keep himself from sliding down the tile to the floor. Every sensation and every thought were narrowed to what Aranea was doing to him and she laughed at how ruined he'd become within minutes.
Ignis felt the heat pool in his stomach, on the very brink of coming undone. Every sensual touch and every drag of her tongue threatened to push him over the edge. He tensed, his body tight and rigid, but Aranea stopped and withdrew. She stood up, breasts pressed against his chest and Ignis couldn't help the low groan of disappointment as she laced her fingers with his. "You're wicked," he bristled, letting go of her hands while his fingers found their way up her arms, across her back, digging and trailing harsh red marks all over her body.
"Oh, come on now, you know I'm not that wicked. Now that I've got your appetite worked up, want to finish this in the bedroom? That is," she pulled back and brushed his hair away, wet and clinging to his forehead, "unless you'd rather just eat that food that you prepared for me."
"Fuck the food," Ignis admonished, reaching behind her to shut the water off and whisking her away to the bedroom as she shrieked and laughed playfully.
Two months later, Cid, with Talcott's help, had the boat ready to go. At some point in that week, Aranea picked up what was assumed to be a stomach virus of some sort. She couldn't keep anything down and it took every last bit of her energy to drag herself out of bed every day. Ignis insisted that she stay behind, if for nothing else than to have access to whatever type of medical care she'd need, but she was adamant in coming with—This was important to him and, in turn, it was important to her. After some intense arguing and some angry words, Ignis gave in and allowed her to join them. They all piled into the truck and drove down to Galdin Quay with the boat in tow.
As Talcott drove with Cid in the passenger seat, Ignis kept a careful ear out to Aranea beside him in the backseat, waiting for any hint or tipoff that she was going to be sick again. The lack of music and conversation in the truck was unnerving, but he held Aranea's hand across the bench seats, his thumb rubbing across the top of her hand and her knuckles. He wanted to ask if she was feeling ok, but the last time he did—only the millionth time—she told him to shut up and stop asking.
Illness didn't suit her well, Ignis thought cynically.
They reached the Quay with no incident and, lucky enough for them, there were no daemons to contend with as Talcott backed the truck down to the dock and in the water enough for them to unlatch the boat successfully. Without a word and barely a game plan in mind ('Let us get to the island, grab what we need, and get out,' was the only thing that Ignis could think of), Cid powered the yacht to life and the four crossed the water to the infamous Angelguard Prison. It wasn't a far distance, but the island was distant enough that they could settle in to have a conversation going.
"It's just interesting to me that Ardyn would want us to look more into his history," Talcott chatted idly, standing under the awning with his arms crossed while Ignis had taken a seat on the cushioned bench in front of him. Aranea stayed taciturn, her eyes fixed on the horizon in the distance.
Pushing his glasses up farther on the bridge of his nose, Ignis waved a hand nonchalantly. "It makes me wonder just what he wants us to find. There has to be more than just his lineage that he's leading us to. I'm as perplexed as you are. Regardless, we must be quick. Grab whatever we can find. Take notes—"
Gagging and dry-heaving stopped the conversation when Aranea rushed from her seat to the side of the boat. Ignis was immediately on his feet, the look of pure apprehension all over his face. He heard her throwing up into the water. "Aranea?"
"I'm . . . "More vomiting, coughing, and heavy breathing. "Fuck, I'm ok. Probably seasick."
The water was a lot choppier than it would have been if this trip had taken place before darkness settled in, but it wasn't anything that Ignis thought she couldn't handle. He felt so guilty, though he was the one that urged her to stay behind. It didn't assuage any of his remorse.
"Ya'll alright back there?" Cid called out over his shoulder, his voice carried by the wind.
Ignis was now at Aranea's side, one hand on her forehead to check for a fever and the other hand holding her hair back from getting in the way of her retching. Talcott reassured the old man that everything was ok, but they all overheard Cid mumbling something about how she should have stayed behind if she was so sick and how she was merely a hindrance right now.
"Fuck off, asshole," she hissed under her breath. Ignis raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and continued to stand by her with a hand on her back.
She stayed put at the boat's edge even until they slowed in front of the shoreline of the menacing natural structure. The craft sputtered and Cid navigated it to a point where they could jump out without getting too wet.
"You kids go on and do your thing; I'll wait here for you to get back. Sound good?" Cid asked, but it was more of a declaration than anything.
With a hand on Aranea's elbow to steady her, Ignis nodded his acquiescence. "Sounds good. We'll be quick. Hopefully an in-and-out job."
Through her nausea, Aranea tittered. "Ha, that's what she said."
"Charming." An eye roll, then Ignis motioned for Talcott to lead the way, listening for his footsteps a means to get around while still holding Aranea's arm. She tried to shrug him off, but he just held on tighter. It was evident by the look on his face that he was concerned about her wellbeing.
They trudged through the beach grass, sand moving under their shoes, up the worn and weathered stone steps to a small shack—a stone structure at the top of a very sandy hill, beat to hell by the elements. Talcott 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at the building while Ignis let go of his lover and took off his gloves, reaching out to touch the slime and age of the stones. Algae, salt, the occasional bug. He felt it all and it sent chills down his spine.
He'd done so much research as a child and young adult about this place, but it was surreal that he was here now. On his back, Aranea's hand splayed in a loving gesture, yet she was still weak. Ignis turned to her and forced a smile, but it lacked the strength and charm of his usual smiles. They were so close to their goal, but it was terrifying knowing what they may, or may not, find.
One at a time, they filtered into the building and crammed into what Ignis assumed as a one-bedroom-esque type of place. He attempted to move around, but he found he bumped into a cold wall here, a makeshift stone bed there. He shivered, but from fear or just the atmosphere, he wasn't sure. This place was chilling, but fitting for what they were here for. He almost let a snort escape him at the fact that the most villainous of people—Ardyn—led them here.
Fitting.
Ignis shook his head to clear his mind, remembering they were here on a mission. "It doesn't seem like we have much ground to cover, so just check every nook and cranny. As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think the Chancellor would send us here for no reason. There's something here he wants us to find."
"Either that or the motherfucker wants us dead and it's a trap."
"Thanks for that, darling," Ignis hissed sarcastically, only to receive a shrug in return. "Anyway, let's rifle around; see what we can scope out?"
"Yes, sir!" Talcott saluted, immediately looking for something for them to go on. Aranea, on the other hand, was less enthusiastic and regrettably moved away from Ignis' side. The advisor remained at the entrance of the prison, fingers tracing along the stone and grout. His mind wandered, thoughts running rampant about how lonely it would be to live here and feeling sympathy for the person unlucky enough to be stranded here. Did that person feel as terrified and isolated as he felt behind his clouded eyes and scars? Blind, with no way out? Scared and sequestered from everything they knew and loved?
He heard Talcott cry out in pain and it brought him back to reality. "Ack," he said. "Don't try to reach behind the desk. Nearly got my hand stuck!"
"Duly noted," Aranea said dryly, her hands moving in the corners of the small and damp room.
While they continued, Ignis frowned. He wanted to help so bad, and he could have. How hard was it to just run a hand on the ground? In a corner? Up the back of some stone bed? He could have, but he felt paralyzed. Once they found this, it meant really delving into and understanding the hells of the world.
Maybe that was taking it too far. They were here for Ardyn Izunia, after all. Still, Ignis believed there was more to this. It was more than that. Ardyn was playing a game and Ignis was determined to beat him at it. After all the mind games, the psychological manipulation, the wondering and the guessing, Ignis needed to push past his fears and inhibitions.
With a cautious step, he knelt and held a hand out, running it along the underside of some sort of concrete table. When that led to no leads, he got lower and reached as far as he could until his fingers touched what he could only assume was the stone wall of the shack.
Nothing.
A sigh and he leaned back, crawling around to the edge of the table, repeating the process.
Nothing.
Always nothing.
This went on for another five minutes, give or take, before Ignis rolled his eye and crouched down on the balls of his feet, annoyed.
Then, an idea.
"Wait," he held a hand up. "The Chancellor didn't say that the information would be inside the Prison, correct?"
Without looking up, Aranea continued to flash a light into another crevasse. "Uh, no, I guess not? He just said whatever information you wanted, it was here on this island. So, I guess it could be anywhere."
Ignis stood up, his legs tingling from lack of circulation from squatting down for so long. "If I may, I'd like to examine the perimeter of the building."
Talcott blinked, but Aranea waved her hand—though it was a lazy wave as she was fighting another round of nausea. "Sure, Specs," she dismissed, but with a different tone than he was used to. Loving? Warm? Affectionate? He smiled all the same. "We'll just be in here. Can't be much ground to cover, right?"
A nod and he carefully stepped down the stone stairs he'd remembered about coming in. He smelled the saline air and heard the rough waves crash against the shore. The grass, overgrown and unruly, tickled his arms. As strange as the scenario was, he found the entire thing bizarrely serene. It brought him back to the time where he first came to Galdin Quay. They were driving down the coastline; the resort was just ahead. Gladio observed quietly from the back seat, while Prompto and Noctis excitedly detailed what they would do as soon as the car was parked by the beachside.
Ignis' breathing hitched at the memory.
Gods, did he miss Noctis.
While kicking his feet around along the outer edges of the prison, Ignis let his thoughts drift back to his charge. His Prince. His friend. Where the hell was he? What was he doing? Surely, he wasn't dead, as Ignis was still able to summon his own weapons. He had to be ok, as Ignis and Gladio had done everything in their power to ensure he'd be successful in life, as the heir to the throne and Future King to Insomnia.
He missed the times they'd sneak out together late in the night back in Insomnia, and then stealthily moving through the hallways when they returned before the sun came up. He missed the way that Noctis would eye him every time he was asked to eat his vegetables, disdain and fury emanating from every pore of the Prince's being. More than anything, he missed the comfortable silence, the contagious laughter, and his childhood friend. It hurt more than he ever let on that Noctis was gone and no one knew when he'd come back. Life had gone on without him, but he was still everywhere all the same.
Ignis wanted to reintroduce Aranea to him as the woman he fell in love with. He wanted Noctis there when he would ask for her hand in marriage, standing by his side when vows are exchanged. It was a huge hope that maybe Noctis would be his future children's godparent, and Ignis trusted him wholeheartedly with that title. As much as he loved Aranea and lived for every waking moment with her, there was also the other part of Ignis that pined for the day that Noctis would return so they could all go about their lives happily, reintegrating with each other with the sun finally shining high over them.
The wind blew his hair and Ignis almost thought that everything was sunny and happy in Eos—almost. He kicked his shoes under the sand, along the edges of the shack. A few rocks, here and there, but then he nearly kicked something bigger. It wasn't a shell or a rock.
It was a book, nestled outside in the back of the Prison.
At least, that's what he thought it was.
"Talcott! Aranea! Come, look at this!" he exclaimed, brushing aside dirt and sand to pull the object from the ground. Some stumbling steps and Aranea and Talcott were at his side as he proudly held up . . . well, whatever it was.
Talcott took it delicately and flipped through the pages. He let out a hearty guffaw. "Well, this may be what we came here for!"
"Seriously? We came all this way for a book?" Aranea grumbled, her face still ghost-white after her nausea episode from the boat.
"Woah, not just any book, guys; Ignis, this is the book. He—the Chancellor—wasn't kidding. I mean, this thing is all about the Izunia lineage! Pictures, old notes . . . this is legit!"
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. Very. I can't . . . I mean damn! This is so interest—"
Aranea cut Talcott off, annoyed and exhausted. "This is great and all guys, but the old man's still waiting for us at the boat and I'm ready to head out. So, can we go now?"
Ignis wished he could see Aranea, if just to properly assess how ill she was. Her voice alone told him she was sicker than she was letting on, but she was trying to hide it. Maybe to keep his worries at bay? Either way, it was a horrible ruse and Ignis was not buying into it. He stepped aside for Talcott to walk ahead, following close behind with a hand resting supportively on the small of Aranea's back.
The ride back to the mainland wasn't as eventful, but Aranea kept quiet for most of it. Ignis kept an ear in her direction, waiting for her to get sick again. Luckily, she did not and they made it back to land and jumped out of the boat one at a time with Cid poised to throw the rope out to moor the vessel to land.
Ignis had difficulty tying the rope off in such a way that the yacht wouldn't float away, so he beckoned for Cid to come assist him. Aranea stood indolently behind the two men and Talcott paced back and forth, scanning page after page of the book in his hand.
Talcott took his eyes off the pages for one second, his face falling and his steps ceasing. "Uhhh, guys? GUYS?"
Up ahead, a group of daemons surrounded the entrance of the resort and were quickly closing in on the four. Cid smacked Ignis' hand away from the ropes, alerting him to the dangers before them without saying a word. Ignis heard the shrieks and wails of the daemons and immediately went into defense mode, the rope slipping from his hands into the water beneath them.
"Get to the truck, now! Just run!"
"But the boat?" Talcott alerted to no one in particular.
"Fuck the boat, boy! We need to get out of here! No, don't bother tethering it; we don't have the time! Let's go!"
Ignis heard the waves begin to pull the Caelum yacht away from the docks, while at the same time Talcott and Cid's footsteps were pounding on the wood under them, charging toward the truck still parked at the front of the docks. Ignis began to follow, but he didn't hear Aranea behind him.
"Go, seriously, I'll be fine," she yelled out over the commotion. He immediately knew that she had begun to throw up again, one hand on the wooden pillar while she leaned over the raucous waters.
Ignis stood between Talcott and Cid yelling for them and Aranea vomiting into the ocean, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. His knee-jerk reaction had him grabbing her, unfazed by her gagging in his ear while she pressed her hands to her mouth. He carried her the entire way, praying that he wouldn't smack headlong into the truck. Luckily, Talcott had started it and Ignis used the sound to judge how much farther he had to run with a sick, protesting Aranea in his arms.
He flung the backseat door open and threw Aranea in, jumping in and slamming the door while urging Talcott to gun it to safety. The wheels spun out but finally gained traction and they were all thrown back into their seats as Talcott sped right at the daemons. The smaller ones were easy road bumps; the larger ones, however, scratched and clawed at the truck as they passed, yet couldn't stop them as they powered over the hills and onto the paved road, speeding home to Lestallum while the boat drifted away from land.
"Aranea, this stomach flu has gone on long enough. When will you allow me to take you to the infirmary?"
Iris stood in the doorway of her and Aranea's bathroom, arms crossed, while Ignis held Aranea's hair back for the umpteenth time that week as she threw up into the toilet. He rubbed her back and Aranea groaned in misery, her forehead resting on her arms as they formed a bridge of sorts across the sides of the toilet.
"Ignis, I promise she'll be ok. I'm taking good care of her," Iris said with a half-watt smile.
He scowled, but not at Iris specifically. "She needs medicine. Fluids. Something. She's not keeping anything down and this has been going on for how many weeks now? No, she needs medical attention," he snapped.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Ignis, I'm fine. It's just a nasty, persistent stomach bug. And hey," she smiled wearily, "I've lost five pounds because of it."
"You don't have five pounds to lose, my love. Please, just let me take you to the medics and get you something to get rid of this once and for all."
"I said I'm fine," she ground out as another wave of nausea forced her to turn back to the toilet. Ignis sighed and pulled her hair up higher away from her neck while massaging her back softly. He continued to sit on the floor with her, concerned, until Iris piped up that maybe some bottles of water or saltine crackers would be useful right now.
"Could you please get them, then?" Ignis asked, worry apparent in his tone.
Iris shifted, undoubtedly distressed. "I mean, I could but—"
"Specs, could you just get the damn crackers for fuck's sake," Aranea interrupted with the most annoyed and irritated voice she could muster. It flustered him and the fleeting look of hurt flashed across his face, but he nodded slowly and kissed the top of her head.
"I'll be right back, then," he surrendered his spot on the ground, dreading the fact that he was leaving her side for a single minute. "Please, consider going to the medical center, though. Please?"
Aranea groaned and he kissed her one more time, turning on his heels and scooting passed Iris. When he left and Iris was sure that he had closed the door, she knelt by Aranea and pulled her hair back for her, braiding it and tying it off with a spare ponytail holder.
"Highwind, when are you going to tell him? You can't hide this from him forever and you're almost out of the first trimester. He needs to know, don't you think?"
With a shake of her head, Aranea closed her eyes and sighed, hanging her head over the toilet.
Author's Note: Well, first thing's first . . . I didn't post an author's note in the last chapter because I honestly didn't feel it was necessary, and I'm glad I didn't. I was ridiculously excited with the feedback that I got and I couldn't ask for anything more. I mean it when I say that waiting for that moment was just as excruciating for me as it was for you. But hey! Now we're here and things are only gonna get crazier from here, especially with Noctis' return on the horizon :D
Also, can you guys believe this story is longer than the second Harry Potter novel? Hahaha! You guys have read a novel and I'm shocked that I wrote it! This is all because of you guys! Thank you so much for the love and support. Don't worry, we still have a few more chapters to go, but still! This is just surreal for me.
Finally, I'm headed out for business again this week (I actually was gone for a huge chunk of this week as well and wrote a lot of this in the airport, on airplanes, and my hotel room) so I'm going to try very very hard to get this next chapter up on Sunday. I don't expect a delay, but if it gets posted way late at night (Eastern Time in the US), that's why.
You guys are the best. I love you and thank you!