IV
When next I woke, I found us in the same position as before. As if being blind weren't bad enough, I found my body protesting from sleeping in a sitting position for so many hours. My left arm felt a sharp pain as I tried to move it away, reawakening from its numb state. I tried not to wake her, but to no avail. When she was awake, it was as if she were the same Aleya again—full of spirit and confidence. With the breaking of a new day came new resolution. She vowed to help me not only overcome my blindness, but to help me accomplish my goal of being ready for the King's return. She would assist me, she stated, with all I needed: From sensory training to combat training, from protecting the populace to investigating coming events. Part of me doubted her ability to render such aid. Another part of me knew nothing was beyond her reach. Once Leya makes up her mind, she stubbornly plots ahead until she accomplishes her goal. She defies all sense, which is most likely why I find her so fascinating.
Gladio and I argued that day. He intended to move forward with his training, and requested I stay behind to look after the refugees. He might have stated that it was because I had more practical sense, but I knew the true reason. He felt I was incompetent in my ability to fight. He thought of me as a liability. My suspicions were confirmed further on into the evening. I was getting my bearings around the city, and before I turned the corner close to the Hotel, I could hear Aleya and Gladio in animated conversation. Gladio spoke of my blindness, and assured her that he was looking out for my best interests. I'll never forget her reply: "Do you even know him? Well, I certainly do. I know exactly who he is. He is Ignis Scientia. There is nothing beyond him. You wait and see, Gladiolus Amicitia. Ignis can see in the dark."
My heart soared. I was on the verge of tears, again. It was the affirmation I needed. I clung to those words for the months that followed. In fact, I still cling to them.
Aleya arranged everything. First, she let me merely travel about town, taking in all the sounds and features. Then, she arranged for obstacles. On different days, there were different items barring my path. I often stumbled. To any other man, it may have seemed cruel. However, I knew her true intent was to train me. I viewed it as a welcome challenge. She never coddled me. In fact, she was hardly ever around, as she was working at the power plant, studying medicine, and tutoring Talcott.
Once I was able to traverse the city without incident, despite obstacles, we moved on. Next was training my other senses to peak proficiency: Touch, taste, sound, and smell. I had to identify objects, people, and locations by these characteristics. Once she thought me ready, she would invite me on tours throughout the city, and I carried on conversation as if I had sight, describing the surroundings as casually as if it were a normal autumn day in Cleigne.
Then there was target practice, which occurred near the gates of the power plant, at assigned times, and with different sizes and structures of targets. It wasn't long before my daggers and lance never failed to miss their intent.
I could, of course, have done all of this without her. However, it brought her joy to assist in my recovery. She's always found belonging in her usefulness. I also can't deny that I enjoyed working with her. It was just she and I, as in former days. Those days brought me an inner peace I had struggled to regain after my incident. Even though I at times would find myself increasingly frustrated at the lag in my recovery, with Leya near me, I found optimism.
She asked special permission for my lodgings with her to remain permanent. And when filling out the paperwork, she did not describe my disability as the reason why I should be made an exception. She stated I was the King's servant, researching the phenomena, and as she was my assistant, we had to work in constant tandem. The innkeeper was quite against it. It doesn't seem as if she likes me at all, although I can't possibly understand what I ever would have done to make myself so unlikeable.
She cooked all the meals, which were simple but tasty. She mended my cuts and scrapes. She sent out the Glaive to retrieve specific research materials. She was my light in the darkest of dark. Despite being blind, I feel those were some of the happier days of my life.
All wasn't perfect, though. I was troubled by the visions bestowed to me. Though I'm sightless in the waking hours, in my sleep, I could see in vivid color. I often had nightmares. I wasn't the only one. Aleya was apparently troubled by her own. In addition, there were often sirens alerting of a power failure, and Leya would be instantly on her feet, ready to attend to the emergency. The next door neighbors were obnoxious. I came within a hair's breadth of losing my patience on many occasions.
Despite it all, we seemed to enjoy falling into the old routine, working side by side.
But we both understood such things couldn't last. I had duties to attend to. I suppose we both did. I was troubled over it for some time, trying to decide how to break the news to Aleya. Surprisingly however, she anticipated even my departure.
The day I decided to break the news to her, I had Monica make up a meal for two and had Iris bring it to our tiny residence. I had procured a crate, and we were to use it as a make-shift dining table. There were no flowers in Lestallum, but I did find a candle. I was still sweating and rehearsing when she walked in, but she wasn't alone.
[FLASHBACK]
Ignis paused at the sound of an additional pair of feet following Aleya's. He turned his ear towards the sound. Boots, by the sound of them, but not the normal drag and drop of a man's stride. No, the steps were lighter and a bit shorter, a bit more confined than the angles a man's shoe would present. It was a woman's stride. It was accompanied by a soft metallic 'clink, clink, clink' along with a faint squeak of leather at every moment. His head lifted as he turned towards the sound. He already knew who it was before she entered. "Ah, Commodore. It's been a while."
"The Empire doesn't exist anymore, and neither does my title. It's Aranea now, Four-eyes." She apparently had never lost her brisk and abrasive manner. There was a pause as she surveyed the table in the middle of the room. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Not that I'm aware of," Aleya said, a tad of mystification in her voice.
Well, the surprise was now ruined, he supposed. He had expected to provide a semi-romantic dinner before he departed for personal training. He was uncertain why he and Aleya were always interrupted in some way before he could work up the nerve to speak to her properly. It was getting tiring. He cleared his throat. "What brings you here?"
"A favor; Or so I'm told." The metal chinked and the leather groaned a bit before he heard a plop on the floor at his feet, right about where the table would be. "You don't mind, do you? I'm starved."
He sighed. "No, of course not. Help yourself."
"Don't mind if I do. I'll count it as payment on your tab."
"What 'tab'?" He questioned her, beginning to feel the onset of a headache. Perhaps he could stay for one more day or two; It would give him time to salvage this situation and reschedule the dinner…
"Tab for my services. I don't come cheap."
"What are you talking about?"
He felt at hand on his shoulder. It was Aleya's; She had a certain touch he would recognize immediately. "Igs. Meet your new training partner."
" 'Partner'?" Aranea protested. "He's got a long way to go before I consider him any sort of 'partner'. Let's see how he does out there first." It sounded as if she were talking with her mouth full. If Ignis had held on to any hopes of continuing with his dinner plans, they were now officially lost.
Aleya drew closer to him, draping an arm about his shoulders. "This is what you wanted, right Boss? You wanted to continue your training. Prompto would be over-protective. Gladio wouldn't take you seriously. The Marshal's preoccupied. That's why Aranea's your best choice. She's tough, and she'll push you to your limits."
Aranea gave a half-laugh. "Damn right I will. I don't have the time or patience to hold back."
He frowned at her.
"Igs." She gave him a gentle nudge. "For Noct."
He sighed. "For Noct."
[Back to Entry]
I learned later that they had an arrangement. Aranea certainly did not come cheap, true to her word. I found out after a good deal of time had passed that Aleya was paying for her services in the form of favors or items. As money had become useless, people would perform favors or do odd jobs for the necessities of life, swapping services for medicinals, food, and clothing. I wasn't pleased when I heard about it; For where would Aleya be finding the time to do extra errands with all she already had volunteered for? Fortunately, the arrangement wasn't prolonged. My capabilities grew quickly. At the turn of two years' time, I was able to venture off on my own, and handle myself in battle…more or less.
There was one incident with a red giant that went unexpectedly awry. We were evacuating a small group of families that had sheltered in place, and we happened to be running low on restoratives at the time. Unfortunately, Aranea decided to deliver my half-dead and profusely bleeding carcass to Aleya.
It was unfortunate in so many ways. I hardly ever got to spend time with her at all since I began training…only in passing. Between my training and her full schedule, we tended to pass like two airships in the night, barely managing a greeting. Though, Umbra began paying frequent visits. As I had been honing my writing skills, I often wrote her letters and delivered them via Umbra to keep in touch. Though I had no way of receiving a reply, of course. I had no way to read, and I certainly wasn't going to ask Aranea or her brood to do so for me. So, I imagine my condition came as an unwelcome shock. At the time Aranea brought me back to Lestallum, I had last spoke to her six months prior.
We woke her with a fright. Aranea's never been the best to mind her manners. She simply threw open the door and deposited me on the shikibuton that was always there, awaiting my return. I could hear, though muffled and garbled as it might have been, and I could hear the panic in Leya's voice as she asked so many questions. I heard her lose her temper with Aranea.
"How dare you bring him back like this!" She had fairly yelled, at which Aranea replied with typical nonchalant arrogance, "You rather I left him out there to rot?"
"I expect you to keep your promise!" Aleya shouted back at her. "You said you'd look after him!"
There was a banging on the wall—our usual amiable neighbor, who shouted an obscenity at us and asked for quiet. Aleya—my sweet, calm, and virtuous assistant-screamed back at him. "You shut the hell up, you jerk!"
I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't even move. I kept fading in and out of consciousness. I could scarcely breathe. My body burned with pain. I was completely spent and broken. I couldn't intervene if even the gods had willed it.
Aranea retorted that she had made no such promise, and if Aleya thought I couldn't handle myself, she shouldn't have let me go.
Aleya's hands fumbled about my person, busying herself with my care. I felt my shirt being opened, my arms being raised and lowered, her feeling my neck and my legs, checking for broken bones and lacerations. "That's not what I meant! Of course he can take care of himself, but it's dangerous!" She spoke as she brushed my hair back and removed my glasses. "You're supposed to take care of each other! I gave you potions; Why didn't you use them?"
Aranea explained we were running low and such things and she had to use them on the civilians. That, of course, was the truth. I'd far rather a helpless woman or child to receive healing than myself. I'm fully capable of mending on my own. She explained that if she hadn't been looking out for me, she would have left me where I had fallen. And with that, she exited the room. I faintly remember her saying she'd be back in two days.
The last I remember of that conversation, Aleya had two fingers on my carotid artery, checking my pulse.
My assistant fully invested herself in my recovery. I was very severely wounded, I'm ashamed to admit. For at least the first day, I remained mostly unconscious. I would have vague awareness when Aleya mopped at my wounds, or tilted my head to consume water, or bathe my skin in cold water to fight the fever that had sprung up from infection. She used an elixive salve on the deeper cuts—a rare commodity. It must have cost her a fortune of some kind. She used a more common potion for the lesser wounds. I believe antidotes were not tangible; She had to try to clear the poison by waiting it out, trusting my natural ability to heal.
I remember Holly entering at one point, pleading for help at the plant, but Aleya refused to leave my side.
She sent Talcott to fetch things for her often. I suppose his studies were also postponed until I could recover.
There were other brief visitors too, but she quickly shooed them away, as my recovery required constant care and maintenance.
I must have been delusional at one point, because I saw the Goddess of Ice, clear as day.
I woke the second day to find Aleya curled up next to me on one side and Umbra on the other. Umbra noticed I had awoken first, and sat up with an excited whine. I only remember feeling terribly nauseated and weak as a newborn chocobo hatchling. The next few hours were a blur; I kept drifting off to unconsciousness. Each time I awoke, I was aware that Aleya was at my side, hand on my chest to monitor my breathing. Soundly asleep, no doubt exhausted. The last I woke, she was gone, and I could smell food—a soup of some kind.
Shortly after, I could stand long enough to make it to the communal rest area and had enough time to take a hot shower. After I ate, I felt like a new man.
[FLASHBACK]
Aleya sat cross-legged across from Ignis on the cold inn supply room floor that was currently her residence. She held the last of the elixive salve in her hand, ready to apply it. "Take off your shirt," she ordered Ignis.
"Pardon?" She may have seen to his wounds over the last day or so, but he hadn't been lucid enough to care about what the first aid entailed. Now, he was feeling painfully modest.
"Your shirt. You're almost healed up; I just need to finish this off."
He put an instinctive hand over the buttons of his shirt. "It's an expensive medication. Why don't you keep it for yourself, in case you suffer an injury?"
"Because I'm not the one boarding a magitek engine in a few hours."
"I'm sound. I'll be perfectly fine."
"You'll scar."
"I'm scarred already." He pointed a finger to his face. "I don't suppose a few more will matter."
"Well, it matters to me," she huffed. "Please, Ignis! It's not like I've never seen you with your shirt off."
Alarming embarrassment ran through him. She was right, of course. Not that he had ever been so careless to take it off himself in front of her. But she had been treating his wounds, nearly exclusively. Physicians had much to do in these dark times, and rarely paid more than an initial visit. Still, he didn't like baring his skin under his own volition.
"Ignis. Off. Now."
He sighed. "Very well." Bashfully, he worked the buttons with his bandaged hands until he was able to pull his shirt off from around his shoulders. He knew he was slender. He wished suddenly that he was blessed with the genes of the Amicitia family. "Get this over with, please."
She laughed. "You're worse than a girl."
He gave an expression of disbelief. "What do you mean?" He was suffering, and she dared tease him?
"You're so shy." She giggled again. "So sensitive."
"I'm not being sensitive," He sulkily replied. "It's—rather cold in here."
"Mmm. Okay, let's make this quick, then. We wouldn't want the King's dearest advisor to catch a chill."
He flinched as she touched his torso with a forefinger; More from the cool burn of the medication than from surprise or pain. He waited, trying to be patient, as she worked the salve into the long scratches in his skin. They rounded his shoulder blade, raked under his arm, and ended near his navel. The cuts had originally been excruciatingly deep, but he could tell now they were barely a welt. The medication had done its job well, and Aleya had done a fine job in ministering to him.
"You're healing nicely." Her voice, so near his ear that he flinched again. He had been lost in the sensation of the medication seeping into his skin.
"Thanks to you," he replied, beginning to slide his arms back into his sleeves.
"Wait, there's one more."
And with the last dab of salve she had scraped from the bottom of the jar, she ran a finger along the scar that ran from the back of his neck to the center of his chest. Now he was fully aware of how close she was, aware of how pleasant he felt. What she must have gone through over the last two days! All the faith she had put in him, only for him to disappear for months at a time, and return to her in such a terrible state! What nerve he had to expect her to drop everything and tend to him! That was precisely what she had done.
For months, he had managed somehow to keep the bulk of his attention on training. He had thought of her every single day, but had managed to push his emotions aside under the more pressing concern of survival and rescue. However, with her so close to him now, with her running her fingers along his wounds, while they were all alone…All the feelings he had for her came flooding back, and with an urgency and vengeance he had long since forgotten.
As she pulled her hand away, he reached out quickly and grabbed it, pulling it towards him. "Wait."
She had just begun to rise from her knelt position in front of him, and at his pulling her arm, she lost her balance. She fell forward and let out a slight yelp just before her face careened into his, her mouth landing squarely over his injured eye. Immediately, she scrambled backwards, but he held her hand fast. "I'm so sorry!" She apologized. "Did I hurt you? Your eye…"
Instead of answering her, he reached out with his opposite hand and grabbed her free arm at the elbow.
She paused, going perfectly still, no doubt noting the strange alteration of his mood. "Ig…Ignis?"
"Thank you," he murmured to her.
"Oh. I—It was nothing. I just…"
Although he loved to hear her voice, he knew where all the talking would lead: Misunderstanding, distraction, interruption. It was where talking always seemed to lead for the two of them. Not this time. No, this time, he was taking his chance. To cut her off, he moved his hand up, fingertips grazing her neck softly until they reached her cheek. He explored her skin in fascinated interest, noting the smoothness and softness, and the occasional imperfection. It was as if he were running his hand over a priceless piece of art. He heard her swallow hard and take a shaky breath as he trailed on, past her ear and through her hair. Upon coming to the back of her scalp, he smiled and rested the hand on her shoulder. Mostly bare skin, he noted. A very loose and thin strap—spaghetti strap, he heard it called once. He absent-mindedly toyed with it, rolling it between his finger and thumb, curious to the fabric composition.
Now alarmed, she tried to move away. He grabbed her shoulder. "Wait. A moment, if you please."
"Ignis, you should know there are some strange side-effects to the salve, sometimes…"
"I'm afraid it's not the salve. I want to tell you now, before anything else happens. Aranea could walk in at any moment. Let us be frank: I could be gone for months, if I ever come back at all."
"Don't say things like that."
His voice was low as he pulled her nearer, albeit with slight resistance. "Aleya, I want you to know; You are with me always. I think of you so very often. I fear for you. I desire to protect you, and to care for you. It drives me mad to be apart; I keenly desire to be near you."
He could feel her pulse quicken in his hands. "Maybe it's not the salve. You did hit your head, though. Maybe…"
He didn't let her finish. Before he could change his mind, he gave a quick tug. His mouth met her cheekbone at first, as he had slightly miscalculated. Brushing off the awkward attempt, he quickly followed through and then bobbed his head down, lifting his chin slightly, pressing his mouth to hers.
It was the first kiss of his existence, and he was blind. He had never felt more incompetent in his life, as for the first few seconds he tried to figure out how exactly to go about accomplishing such a thing. Yes, it was clumsy and dodgy, but after those initial moments, it was profusely exhilarating. For he admired the softness of her mouth, the texture of the curve of lip, the warmth, the slight quiver as he delivered. Again, she was a work of art to be explored, and he melted against her, enjoying the curves and contours of that lovely mouth he had wanted to meet for so long, the slight give in the softness of her cheek.
He scarcely knew what he was doing. The Ignis of two years ago—no matter how badly he desired something—would have waited for permission. He would have minded his decency and would have been the perfect gentleman. He would have waited for a perfect time and place, when everything was certain to arrive at the destination he planned. But in this dark world, he had found the wisdom in grabbing whatever light he could find, no matter how faint. He had learned such things were beautiful, rare, precious, and so terribly short-lived. He couldn't afford to waste any more time. He couldn't allow another moment to pass without making his feelings and intentions clear.
At first, she resisted a bit. It was natural, as she had been taken aback by his change in demeanor, and shocked at his subsequent actions. But after a few moments, some of the tension left her arms, and she began to relax. He then found her to change, welcoming his kiss, and then reciprocating with her own. She simply sank at that point, easing herself onto his knee in a sitting position. He took her hand, and she laced her fingers with his and brought their hands to her heart.
It was overwhelming. The only thing he could think was how much he loved her, and how desperately he wanted to prove it. There were no other thoughts at all. He simply could only think of her, of her figure in his lap, her hand in his, her mouth pressing back against his. Encouraged, his kiss became deeper, more forceful. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and shifted the position of his jaw, breaking away momentarily only to come back at her eagerly. He had never known a euphoria so sweet. He could taste her, feel her. The months of honed senses made everything so vivid and clear. He slid his hand up her back to her neck….and then it was over.
She abruptly moved away, jumping backwards. He lost his grip on her waist as she scrambled. Umbra, misunderstanding, leapt happily between them, giving Ignis a slobbery kiss of his own before pouncing at Aleya.
Ignis had always loved Umbra, until now. Now as not the time for play. He pushed him away and got to his feet quickly, concerned for her feelings.
"Igs—I'm…I'm sorry. I…"
"'Sorry?' Why in blazes are you apologizing?" He pushed Umbra down again as he leapt up on him.
She took a few short breaths. "Y-You're confused. I…I sh-shouldn't have…"
Confused? Did she think he had some sort of temporary dementia? Did she believe him to be hallucinating? He moved swiftly to cross over to her. Her back was to the wall. She turned her head as he brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. Noting her hint of fear, he stepped back, giving her space. "Aleya, that's not true at all. Can't you tell that I'm speaking with my heart?"
"You had a near-death experience. Something must be playing tricks with your mind. You don't really mean what you…"
"That's enough! You know me! Have I ever been so rattled so as not to think clearly?"
"Yes," She replied without hesitation. "A couple of times."
Well, he couldn't argue with that, no matter how much he wanted to. When Noct's life—or her own—was in danger, he tended to lose all sense. How well she knew him. "But that's not the case now," he assured her, taking her hands in his own. He leaned to meet her height and brushed his mouth against her cheek. "Aleya, I—"
But the door bolted open, and who should interrupt but Commodore Aranea Highwind herself?
[Back to Entry]
It was bloody awkward, and bloody embarrassing. Apparently the woman has never met a closed door she considered to be off-limits or private. What's worse, she had to be exaggerative about the whole scene. I know we were holding hands, our mouths only a hair's breadth apart. I know Aleya was pressing herself to the wall as if she could sink into it, and I know my shirt still hung off my elbows. Still, it would have been a kindness for her to quickly turn heel and walk out without a word. That was beyond her. She said something sarcastic about giving us more time. Aleya was so flustered, she shoved past me and ran out of the room, humiliated. I tried searching for her, but she was elusive until I finally had to depart.
It's been difficult since. I'm rarely ever in Lestallum. When I do manage to return, Aleya's gone. She's either at the power plant, tutoring Talcott, studying, or some such thing to keep her from having to face me. It's been nearly another six months since our last meeting, when we—when I—expressed my longing for her.
More to the point, I'm afraid things have gone awry between us. I've left her notes. I've sent her messages via Iris and Talcott when I am about in Lestallum. She never responds. For the first few times I returned, I made a point to stay in my familiar residence. Once I realized she was not returning, purposefully avoiding me, I decided to stay at the temporary lodgings afforded the Glaive and the hunters. I still tried my best to make contact with her, but to no avail.
I've gotten word from Iris regarding how she is faring since then. Deeply distressing to me, she seems to be volunteering for far more dangerous assignments; For example, going out to repair blackouts while a raid is in progress. So far the Glaive have kept the danger at bay, but it's only a matter of time. Every time I hear of a raid now, my heart begins to palpate uncontrollably. I can't help but to imagine her climbing a transmission tower in the middle of a battle, a prime target. I'd talk some sense into her if only I could find her.
That's not all. Talcott innocently and proudly proclaimed 'someone' has been seeing her—a man by that same name of Alvor. The same Alvor she mentioned the day of our arrival, and when she spoke to me over the phone in Altissia. He's a hunter, and what's worse, he's a native of Galahd and her long-time friend. Talcott implies the man has become a constant presence. This alarms me greatly. Have I not made my feelings known? Didn't she reciprocate? Why would she choose to ignore me and pass time with this other man? I'd be hurt if I wasn't so preoccupied with being angered. What sort of betrayal is this? She kissed me too, did she not? I wasn't the only one expressing passion that day. Now she goes into hiding for half a year? Completely ignores my attempts to speak to her? I've never known her to be so heartless. Perhaps this Alvor is a bad influence upon her.
Iris states that I've never really come up during their conversations together. She doesn't feel Aleya dislikes me though. She thinks she is simply too busy to communicate. I know better.
For example, it's taken me nearly the whole of two days to pen what's happened in the last few years. I was told my assistant was working a double shift when I arrived. I decided to wait for her here, at her residence. I've had visits from Talcott and Iris, but I've not received even a hint of a footstep from Aleya. Even the landlady came and yelled obscenities at me twice. At least she was kind enough to pay me a visit.
Here I am, with a full fridge and Aleya's hard-earned supply of various elixirs and antidotes that she's obviously stockpiled for me to use on my journey, but I don't have what I'm truly yearning for.
Perhaps I've done something wrong in my hasty attempt to confer my feelings. I'm no good at these sorts of things. Would if Gladio were here! He has a keen mind when it comes to dealing with the fairer sex.
The Commodore will be coming to retrieve me later tomorrow. I'd best get some sleep. However, this man from Galahd plagues me. I shall request an immediate return once our next job is completed. There are some crises that one cannot afford to wait out.