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His breathing is ragged, and you can witness the person kneeling before you is trembling with guilt, and probably fear, mixed with embarrassment. You don’t understand why he is trembling, now, of all time, when there is nothing to be feared about. Yet, having such a tender heart, you decide to also kneel in front of him to steady his shoulders.
“I have failed,” he whispers, with the voice as soft and tender as the yellow hue on the sky above.
“You have not failed,” you reiterate, objecting to his words. You can see him shaking his head profusely, to diminish your belief. “You have accomplished what you need to accomplish. It is not without your plight that we are able to save Noctis.”
You can feel his shoulders trembling evermore. Without any hesitation, you pull him closer to your embrace and start to stroke his hair softly. It is something that you wished you would have done years ago, but didn’t have the courage to do so. And somehow, without you knowing, both of your shoulders are also trembling. Both of you let out a long sigh as he rubs his tears away from his eyes. You do, too, but also from the new dawn that emerges from the horizon. Its warmth feels alien to your skin, after ten long years of being deprived by the light. Ignis can sense the warmth, too, the sky shining brightly in which he can perceive still from his translucent irises.
“Noct… I must get to Noct.”
Ignis immediately wriggles out of your embrace and haste to the throne room. Gladio and Prompto call for him, but Ignis doesn’t listen. He keeps pacing, making his way to challenge his own belief.
He will not die, is all Ignis wants to instil in his mind. No matter the vision he saw in Altissia, he still doesn’t want to have that prophecy fulfilled. Not Noct, his king, his best friend, his little brother…
That dawn, Ignis lost all three at the same time when his own hope fooled him. Upon his arrival in front of Noctis’ throne, without even trying to extend his arms and fingertips, Ignis knows. There is the king; slumped forward in his throne, with a royal arm impaled on his chest. However strong Ignis’ desire is to scream, not even a single tear escaped his eyes when he sensed that his king is gone, just like how Pryna parted her vision with Ignis before her passing. The very ritual that Noctis went through… It all was but a fate that Ignis cannot separate himself from. All of them were fated to accompany the king’s eventual death by preparing him for the first twenty years of his life. Whatever path Ignis chose that day, Noctis would have died eventually to eradicate the darkness and bring about the so-called light.
All of them groomed Noctis to prepare him for his misery, without them knowing.
At that thought does Ignis scream and sob as he falls to his knees, burying his face in Noctis’ lap. He wants to believe that Noctis isn’t waking up because of his disdain with waking up early, just like the prince used to do, and that Ignis has to once again wake him up, like he did all those years ago since they were young. Ignis doesn’t even bother to remove his visor as he presses his entire face in Noctis’ lap, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of a sturdy object sinking into his skin. The pain is too great to bear by the strategist, his mind numbing from the pain of losing three people at once that he loves very dearly from the bottom of his heart. Not even Noct's sacrifice in bringing the dawn was enough to console Ignis' mind. He wails silently, before Ignis is no longer able to conceal the pain too great etched in his heart, does he let out another scream and scream and scream into the morning light. You, Gladio, and Prompto quickly find Ignis screaming in front of Noctis, and the three of you make your way up the stairs to weep over the sight of your beloved king, slumping and unmoving. You also kneel down to the ground, crying as you hoped that this is just a mere dream, that Noctis is just sleeping and teasing the rest of his group with his usual prank of pretending to be asleep to avoid responsibilities. But the sight of him in his throne with a sword on his chest, you personally cannot deny reality anymore.
The king is gone, and so is the line of Lucis.
The morning sun hikes slowly up to the sky, its ray permeating through the cracks and openings in the throne room. The air no longer smells foul and rotten of monster flesh, but clean and sweet from the flowers growing in between rubble and stones, seemingly defying science.
All of you cries silently with each of your own pace. However, one thing comes to mind that all of you secretly agree.
Noctis cannot and will not be able to enjoy the sun again, with his family and friends. The king lost everything, long before he was chosen to be the king of kings.
The citizen of Lucis work hand in hand together to rebuild civilisation. Everyone partake in what they do best; some are expert in design and planning, the others provide meals for those who lift and carry around stones to once again erect buildings and shelters. Despite the commonly shared sentiment after losing their king, both the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive help in their own way, too. Disciplined and organised, even without any watchful eyes to monitor their every move. The desire to rebuild their home, and to continue on living is enough reason for people to band together. Even when it's late at night, everyone come together to create a makeshift emergency kitchen to rest and refuel themselves, before some of them continue working until the moon is no more.
"Gladio?"
You approach the man as he is walking towards a stack of cement bags, and you can see the perspiration trailing down his face and to his neck. He lifts his face up upon seeing you and give you a nice, wide grin. You smile back in return, because after years of being together in the Crownsguard and eventually the Kingsglaive, you have to admit that his raw smile is the best you've ever witnessed in your life. But you have a feeling that he knows what you're going to ask him, because he proves it to you before you could even mutter the question to him.
"He's in the kitchen."
You chuckle, a streak of embarrassment on your face is apparent. Gladio might have been quiet the whole time when it comes to the complicated relationship you have with Ignis, but you're also grateful with the gesture. So now all you do is nod before he taps your arm gently and gives you another beautiful grin.
"Take it easy. I know he's actually grateful for all the things you've done for him and shown to him, but he's taking it much more difficult than I thought he would be."
"I know," you nod again and let out a soft sigh. "I just wish Ignis is a bit more receptive to the help we offered him."
Gladio nods and he gestures at an empty bench to you so the two of you can sit together to talk and rest before continuing working until late at night. The smell of Ignis' cooking wafts in the air, even a lot of people starts to drop whatever they are doing to make their way to the emergency kitchen and lining up. Prompto is seen helping Ignis with distributing the paper plates and usher people to the nearest water dispenser, in which everyone quickly saturate the area. You can see how focused Ignis is with his cooking, a habit of his that seems to only grow with time; a sight that can never tire you. His fingers are as nimble as ever, how they glide gracefully to switch between gripping the knife, to moving the chopped onions into a bowl, to fetch seasonings from the spice rack, as if conducting a concerto. You have your doubt about his cooking skill when all of you grieved upon his loss of vision, but you swear to yourself that Ignis is even a better cook, even as the dark accompanies him. Silently, you have ingrained his spirit in the back of your mind; a gentle, yet constant reminder to keep on going even though you sometimes feel as if your life is falling apart. But there has been a nagging sound in your head, telling you that you want more.
You want more of him, of his very essence, his very being.
You let out a long sigh, your pupils silently following Ignis’ every move without you realising. Gladio can see how your gaze never falters, not even once, since the very first time you got introduced to the strategist. He can tell that you’ve been on the edge about Ignis ever since, a desire to own him, but not very sure on how Ignis will react due to his sole focus on the crown prince. You let out a sigh and ruffle your own hair a bit before standing up from your seat to give a soft look at Gladio. “I better get back to working.” You give the big guy a small wave, and he waves back, as you make your way near the kitchen counter to continue with the task you’ve assigned yourself the past few months; budgeting and inventory management. You boot up your laptop and opening up spreadsheet; the cells are dreadful to look at. But at this moment, you savour the blessings it brings; mandatory alone time when working as a negotiator and a leader in the field is tiring you for the past one year. A soft huff catches Prompto’s attention, and the blonde man chuckles.
“Rough night?”
Without doubt, you give him a nod and a small smile, “Busted.”
He laughs and returns to his station for a few minutes, before joining you on your table, chugging a bottle of water, taking his desired respite. You put your work on a halt to entertain Prompto and let out a small chuckle. “What?”
He laughs, nudging your shoulder a little with a hush, “I know you’re not working on your budgeting or whatever it is showing up on your blank spreadsheet.”
“Hey!”
He giggles, followed with your own small chuckle before closing your laptop, essentially calling it a night, not doing anything you thought you would be doing. He’s right; you were not typing anything into the spreadsheet. It was all a matter of pretence from your end, to keep yourself busy in order to calm the storm within you from your recent conversation with Gladio. Well, aside from the fact that all those numbers were temporarily scaring you off. But it’s all an excuse, as long as you can be near Ignis, though you know the man’s too focused on his cooking to even notice your presence, no matter how sharp his senses are by now.
“Give the cook some time.” Prompto grins at your direction before diverting his eyes back to monitor Ignis’ precise movements while chopping the veggies and putting them into the big, steaming pot, as if his fingers were dancing, following a constant tempo and rhythm. None of you actually dared to believe he would be able to overcome his own plight, yet here he is. Still the same old Iggy, just a bit more mature and rougher on the edges. Silently, you, Prompto, and Gladio agree that the day Ignis lost his vision was the day he slowly turned into someone he was always meant to be. Gone the timid advisor you all once knew, as he transformed into a more mature man who knows the weight of his responsibility, and is no longer afraid of the consequences.
All too well, you muse to yourself, balancing between wanting to embrace the new Ignis, while also trying to savour the fact that the man was once, well, a bit reserved. A trait of him that made you fall hard for him. Yet, you also regret the fact that you haven't been able to tell Ignis your true feelings. You've been dancing around your own reverence towards the man, not sure whether to tell him or to keep dancing away, increasing the distance every time you take a twirl. Each step you make around him only emphasis the distance you have created between the two of you; an exact opposite of the things you really want. But every time you have mustered your courage to tell Ignis your true feelings, reality zaps you back to humble you. How can you selfishly confess your feelings to him, when he’s already burdened by the weight of not just losing his vision, but the loss of his liege as well?
Your skin gets taut over your knuckles, turning white from all of the pent up desires and self control that are at war with one another. Gently, you release a pessimistic sigh. What should I do? I don’t want to regret living my life any longer than it already unravel!, you nag at yourself. All the while not realising that both Gladio and Prompto have been by your side, supporting your every move and decision, including your feelings towards the now lightless advisor. They both know your turmoil, and it seems the two of them know exactly what to do to support you in this matter.
Prompto jumps up from the desk and makes haste to Gladio who is about to continue working with the other civilians. He whispers something into Gladio’s ear, in which the burly man grins in response and gestures at the civilians to evacuate the premises for a while. Both Prompto and Gladio are hoping that if the course is clear enough, in return it will help to empty any self-doubt from you to make some advances. Within minutes, the area is cleared up. Ignis is fully aware that the area is getting sterile, but he relies on his hunch; perhaps the people are done with their dinner already and eager to continue their job. At the same time, you also lift your face up, seeing Gladio and Prompto waving at you before the two of them give you the biggest smirks and thumbs-up from the distance. Your face feels hot and warm at the realisation, silently thankful for their constant support, and you know you can’t mess this chance up.
“Ignis! Hi.” The awkward greeting does not deter Ignis from finishing the last batch of his veggie soup. Usually, he will make some extra batch in case people are getting hungry long after dinner time has passed. Ever the considerate, you think to yourself, or better yet, another reason why you since long desire his company, wanting to unravel and to be cognizant with his true self beyond the image of a retainer. There’s so much things to unearth from him, and you won’t let this chance wiggle away from between your delicate fingers.
“It seems dinner time is over.”
Ignis nods in response as he stirs the pot in front of him, and by the Astrals you can see a bit of smile carved on his mottled lips. You smile, too, even though Ignis isn’t able to see your smile any longer.
“I am well aware. However, I am inclined to complete this cooking to ensure that the next individual finds sustenance should they find themselves in need of nourishment during the night."
The food scraps lying around Ignis are scattered about, so you try to clean them up and throw them into the trash, “You just need to turn off the stove.”
And turn off the stove he does; his fingers reach for the lid to close the pot to ensure its quality and warmth. He leans against the counter and faces you with a gentle smirk and a vibrato, "I can discern that a thought weighs upon your mind,” Ignis continues with a chuckle before letting out a sigh, “However, I must admit it, I have no further intention to deviate my focus from rebuilding our hometown.”
“Ignis, I–“
He shakes his head, not wanting to hear the confession he longed to hear the most. You can see his concealed hand curled into a fist, which prompts you to occupy his personal space, knowing how much Ignis distastes a breach of his personal space. But you have to seize this opportunity that both Prompto and Gladio have offered you, so you pushed further and can sense a low growl coming from the advisor. So as of right now, you’re just mere inches away from him, his figure towering over you. But you’re not intimidated; you’re more petrified by the prospects of letting Ignis out of your grasp without ever knowing what the two of you feel with one another.
His fingers are a bit greasy from spending so much time in the kitchen earlier, but you give his hand gentle rubs with your thumb as you whisper, “Do you remember that one dance when we were younger? When we pretended to attend Noctis’ wedding with his girlfriend Betty the elephant as Lady Lunafreya’s replacement?”
The rumble of his laughs is something you don’t expect to be his response, but it’s just exactly the kind of response you hope for. At least it’s not him yanking his hand away from your tender grip. Ignis nods and put his hand on your waist to pull you closer.
"I do. It was necessary to keep the pretence alive, lest Noctis be left standing at the altar by Betty alone.”
The two of you slowly move your feet, swaying gently, following the music in your own minds around the makeshift kitchen to trace back the silly little waltz you did when you were younger.
When everything was simpler.
“One, two, three… One, two, three.”
Ignis surreptitiously mumbles the simple guide for you to maintain your tempo and steps, because you used to stomp on his feet during Noctis’ pretend wedding in the prince’s bedroom, and Ignis had to come up with something simple for you to adjust to the dance. In response, you put your arms around his neck to pull Ignis closer, and you can feel his fingers gripping your waist tighter, as if afraid that if he lets you go, that you will disappear forever from him; a notion that lately Ignis has been dwelling with before he goes to bed. He keeps challenging his own thought to make out your presence, whether it has always been this salient, or that he has been way too dismissive. Especially after he lost his eyesight, he feels the warmth shown by his comrades to double, triple even in most days, including yours. There is always a hand he can reach to steady himself, and the most prominent one being yours by how gentle and non-demanding your help is. Now that he can stand on his own two feet without the help of even a cane, does Ignis dare to tread something even more dangerous, with the price of letting the warmth of your palms go.
This is it. The moment when as if Ignis is taunting your resolve while the two of you keeps moving around the kitchen, the innocent waltz being proof that there has always been an obscure connection. You bite your lower lip, and take a deep breath.
“I know that you’re proficient in dancing, darling, but for Astrals’ sake, stop dancing around your own fate.”
Ignis stops moving and you stomp on his feet. The advisor hisses in pain, in which you quickly lift your foot away from his. “Oh my, Ignis, I’m so sorry–“
His adorned lips twitch and mumble, “It’s fine,” but you are so sure that the man is about to send you to the moon himself for stepping on him, again, after years have passed.
“You stopped moving, Ignis, that’s why,” you’re trying to defend yourself, but his grip on your waist tightens and now, you can see his marbled eyes gazing deep into you. “I wouldn’t be stepping on you if you don’t stop moving so abruptly.”
“It wasn’t that,” the advisor is now the one trying to defend himself. “I just can’t allow the thing that keeps me afloat for years leave me stranded.”
“We’re not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere, Ignis.”
You drill your eyes back on his, trying to gauge how deep his gorgeous milky ocean goes. The very eyes that taught you that there’s more to world beyond any royal duties, and it’s the principle that you are going to reintroduce to him after he turned distant after the incident.
“I’m tired of lying to myself, and to you… I know you are, too. I know your main focus right now is Lucis, our hometown, the place where it all began. But I know damn well an advisor doesn’t settle on just one focus at a time, nor do they only have one goal to accomplish.”
It’s as if you can see his gears in his head turning in all directions, bouncing around to refute your preemptive strike, a skill you developed along your journey with the bros. His response? A long sigh and a gingerly attempt to bury his face in the crook of your neck. You welcome the gesture with a beating heart, slowly running your fingers along the strands of dirty blonde that are getting sweaty and messy, his gelled pompadour sprouting everywhere to follow gravity. Slowly, somehow, the two of you starts swaying again to the waltz. You keep his head on the crook of your neck, wanting to savour the moment if Ignis decides to retreat. To your surprise, he doesn’t. Rather, you feel a gentle peck on the side of your neck.
“Ignis?”
It’s a soft whisper you confer, a simple yet loving gesture to let Ignis know that there is love for him, waiting just for him to either accept it or run from it, like he has always been. All you want from him is to open up, and completely free himself from his duty to the Crown that is no longer there. You understand that it's his way of coping, his own pacing to grieve over everything, but even you know this is more than just him grieving.
It's Ignis torturing himself with what could have been. Will Noctis still be around if they had not gone to Altissia? Is it really the fate bestowed by the gods they worship so much to impose such predicament? Such questions have been swirling inside Ignis’ minds for years, yet he still can’t find the answers. He beats himself up for Noctis’ death, even though he knows it’s all just fate that none can alter. In the process, pushing people away comes in a package, but he senses you’re the only individual brave enough to push past the barrier he has set up for himself.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
The two of you keep your pace, dancing away the night like the silly little argument the two of you just had didn’t exist. A sliver of smile is painted on both of your lips, followed by little sighs and chuckles that are meant to be kept a secret from one another. However, Ignis cracks his mask first and the vibration of his rumbling chest soothes you. He leads the waltz into a more undemanding tempo before the two of you stop dancing. His eyes are directed to your shining irises, and you swear to the remaining Astrals that Ignis can see you as clear as day.
“I only wish to be able to confirm the feelings you have for me with my own two eyes,” Ignis squeaks softly in your ear. “But alas, I can only rely with the other senses that I have, and I am overly concerned that when it comes to this issue, my other senses fail me.”
“Come now,” this time, you let out a hearty chuckle, the fear that was clouding your judgement has vanished, replaced by the feelings of being stranded in a beautiful meadow with him, your gut telling you that there will be a start of something new. “Do I ever fail to make myself clear with you, advisor?”
Ignis bursts out laughing at the title that rolls of your tongue so innocently. Never once in his life he ever thought that such title could sound so endearing to him. He pulls you into a tighter hug.
“I won’t let you go, do you understand me?”
You chuckle like a little girl, before pulling Ignis closer in return and nod.
“I understand.”
One, two, three. One, two, three.
That night, the little waltz continues until the citizens return for their second dinner of the night. Upon scanning the area, you catch a glimpse of Gladio smirking widely, and Prompto scrambling to hide his camera. You chuckle, before giving the two men a small nod, and decides to just ditch your spreadsheet for the night to help Ignis in the makeshift kitchen, though you’ve been wondering whether you can just permanently pass the spreadsheet to someone else starting tomorrow.