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To say the day had been arduously long would be an understatement. Most days seemed to be far longer than the normal twenty-four hours that the sun and moon allotted, but this day had seemed to drag on for at least a week. With reconstruction efforts well under way, hundreds of refugees, both originally native to Insomnia and not, had begun pouring into the city. While you enjoyed the fruits of your labors as you worked with the Chamberlain's office to ensure everyone had a full belly and a roof over their head for the first few weeks after arriving, today had been especially difficult in how a certain family had reminded you of your own. The resemblance of how the eldest sister clung to her three younger siblings, orphaned from the horrors of the Long Night, had haunted you well into the evening.
In her defiant eyes you saw yourself, how you had fought long and hard to give your own family safety and food, the youngest sister not even remembering what sunlight had felt like and then succumbed to malnutrition, how you had scraped through many a daemon attack just to lose your protective brother to a particularly nasty dualhorn plagued by the Scourge, how your last sister had decided enough was enough and joined the Glaive only to meet her own demise on her first rescue mission. The difference was, where you had failed, the refugee had, somehow, succeeded - with all her siblings intact and in tow.
Your constant grief had long since abetted, soothed by the annals of time. Almost four years of darkness had almost seemed fitting for how much you had lost, your soul almost finding selfish reprieve in how the very sky seemed to mimic your own despair. The only thing that had gotten you through it was him. The day you had met him had been a balm not unlike the moment the sun finally dawned over Eos. Grief, after him, came with small waves that more often than not lay still.
Now, though, remnants of the time between losing your last family member and the moment you met him were plaguing your thoughts. Worn down by the sheer volume of people needing help, the way that it just never seemed to stop and it likely wouldn't in the future. While it was a thing that usually brought you great satisfaction, seeing people settling, there was the consistent and constant reminder of the reason why. And so, when you were finally able to return to your quarters within the Citadel, world weary and fighting off the vestiges of forgotten grief, you nearly collapsed on the couch. Even that small respite was plagued by the thought that, had you not met Ignis Scientia, had not fallen in love and begun cohabitating, the luxury of even having a soft place to sit at the end of a day would not be yours. You likely would have been like the girl you had seen earlier - camped on a cot within a previously abandoned business office, where an employee had once sat working daily and never dreaming the prophesied Long Night would ever come to pass.
So wrapped were you in the vicious cycle of gratitude of your fortune and then guilt for the same privilege, you didn't even notice him come in some hours later. Ignis, in the way only he could without his sight, had come up behind the couch and touched your head tenderly.
"I think the time of sitting in darkness has passed." he murmured kindly, commenting on how he could tell the lights still were not on, only able to see shadows and flickers of light behind the pale eye that he'd told you had once been green. Though the sun had long ago set with its faithful promise to still rise the next morning, you had been so absorbed in your thoughts you hadn't bothered to even notice the apartment was swathed in darkness. His voice drew you immediately from your reverie, the very sound a breath of fresh air that you hadn't fully realized you needed.
Taking his gloved hand and holding it to your cheek, the supple leather a soothing comfort, you gave a long exhale. As though you had been holding your breath since meeting the girl that had unintentionally brought attention to your tiredness. His other hand brushed through your hair, continuing to soothe. He simply knew that something was bothering you, even if he didn't know the exact reason.
"Allow me to banish a few shadows, hm?" he offered after a moment of touch, gently removing his hand from your grasp to click the lamp on the side table to life. You blinked at the sudden illumination, your eyes slightly blurred as you looked toward him. "That's better."
He was dressed in his Crownsguard uniform, his hair impeccably coiffed back as always, save for the stray strand that artfully fell across his forehead. Removing his jacket, then folding and placing it over an armchair so it would be ready for him the next day, he made himself more comfortable within your shared home. With a practiced ease that had come from the years of learning to navigate his surroundings without a cane, he came around the couch to settle next to you, his still gloved hand reaching to where you were, he found your elbow and then traced his fingers lightly down your forearm to bring your palms together.
"Now, something must be amiss, with this dampened aura I'm sensing." he said quietly, as though he could already recognize that this was not a time for the regular volume of speech. His tone was, as always, the pinnacle of patience and kindness, and you shifted to lean your back into his chest, his arm welcoming you by wrapping around your shoulders. A light kiss landed on the top of your head as he pulled you closer. You never understood how his touch was so grounding, how with small and precise movements, that could only come from being almost completely blind, he could ease whatever happened to be on your mind. Whether it be something as silly as a failed recipe, or something as heavy as what was weighing your mind at the moment.
"It was just… a long day." you began as you allowed the way his hand caressed your bare arm in soft circles. You didn't have to look at him to know he was listening intently; he always listened. "I helped settle a family that reminded me… Well. She had two little sisters and a younger brother. Their parents… aren't here anymore… but they made it."
His deep breath of sympathy forced your head to rise and fall against him. Grip tightening, he pressed another kiss to your forehead.
"I imagine many conflicting emotions stemmed from that interaction." As he spoke, your eyes fluttered closed. Exceedingly grateful that you needn't explain it further. As Chamberlain to the King, he was in charge of, yes, advising the King, but for now his duties had expanded to overseeing repopulation and recovery. He knew well how myriad refugees were pouring in, and had countless councils day in and day out as to the logistics of such an endeavor. While he was rather removed from seeing the day to day action taking place, rarely having the time to greet any of them himself, he could understand fully how one person might stick out among the masses. "Are you alright?"
You shook your head. "No. But I think I will be. What's important is that they're safe. No matter if it makes me think of… my own family, or if I might-" You paused, wondering if your next thought would finally be the one he'd judge harshly. He never had given any such dismay at your own thoughts, accepting the conflicts as just being human, and you had no reason to think he'd be disappointed in you now. "If I might be a little jealous, and feeling my own failure at keeping us together."
"Ah. And that would be the crux of it…" he nodded, almost sagely. If you had been in a better mood, you might have given a light chuckle, but instead, you just pressed yourself further against him. His legs coming up on the couch as he laid back, having your full weight now flush against his side. He adjusted his arms rather protectively around you. The failure you had admitted to feeling over your family's death was no stranger to him. It was a conversation that you'd had several times, until he had helped you realize some form of closure. Logically, you knew it was not your fault, that you had done absolutely everything you could. Bad circumstance and ill-fated timing had been the culprits. "I'll remind you again, it is no sin to have warring thoughts, and it is certainly not unnatural for past wounds to reopen upon seeing such a blatant reminder."
"I know…" you whispered quietly and gave a deep sigh. Your next breath caught in your throat amidst a sob, and then it all came spilling over in the form of tears. "It just… made me sad."
The lame and simple phrase you proffered might have sounded childish to anyone else. But what you had discovered with Ignis was complexities could often be summed up neatly, offering comfort in a way that it could be listed as simple, rather than the struggle to fully describe and hash out any other vocabulary that might lie beneath the surface. It was enough, sometimes, to just state that you were sad, or angry, or even, on lighter occasions - happy or in love. And yet again, he signaled his infinite understanding by bringing your head to nuzzle onto his shoulder for comfort. The most eloquent man in all of Insomnia knew the power of the smaller words.
He held you, cheek to forehead, as you cried. His hands traveling well known trails along your back. There was no attempt to hush, no attempt to assuage, he only held on, waiting for your own mind to sort itself back into its natural state. How long you cried, you did not know, but you allowed it to fade naturally until your tears stopped, your breath evened, and your heart was aching with a pang of release rather than burden. As you settled, he brought his lips to your hair again.
"Come," he commanded, shifting to extricate himself from the cushions of the couch. You willingly followed as he sat you both up. "I believe I have just the sort of indulgence you might need."
"I don't think I should have another coffee tonight." You laughed lightly over your mutual addiction, a source of teasing from Gladio and Prompto that any children you might have together would be born with Ebony in their veins rather than blood. The coffee you had now was a far cry from what you both used to enjoy, but leave it to Ignis to figure out how to grow coffee beans and roast them to near perfection. "I'll just end up awake all night."
He chuckled good naturedly, with an affectionate squeeze around your shoulders before making to stand up. "While an Ebony is always tempting, I agree it is too late for one. That wasn't what I meant."
You had no time to voice your confusion as he pulled you to your feet by your hands. Stumbling into his waiting arms, he propped you up against him. His head tilted toward yours and you found yourself looking into his unseeing gaze, even if he was unable to make full eye contact.
"Tears might cleanse the soul, but… please allow me to assist with the rest."
"What?" you cocked your head to the side, thoroughly confused. It wasn't until he was leading you into the bathroom and turning on the faucet to the large bathtub you shared that you understood his meaning. "A bath?"
"Mm." he voiced his confirmation as he removed his gloves to better gauge the temperature. He twisted the knobs to adjust it to perfect, and then within a stride was opening the linen closet to pull out towels and terry cloths, "Choose your scent, my dear."
You huffed your laugh and set about your own assigned task. Bath oils and salts were not something currently in production, baser needs of food and shelter being the forefront of every citizen's mind, but for your birthday he had presented you with several options. He had never confirmed it, coyly teasing at having 'ways' of finding such luxuries during these trying times, but you knew he had made them himself using precious herbs and spices from the Citadel's kitchens. Settling on Tenebraen oak mixed with Duscaen orange, you handed him the bottle. Uncorking the bottle, he wafted it beneath his nose to determine which had been your choice.
"Almost perfect. Would you care to add vanilla to the mix as well?"
"This isn't a special occasion…" you protested the use of your favorite, though it was, subsequently, the one you had the most of. The others you used more liberally, favoring the rare Altissian vanilla for moments of celebration, or seduction, rather than it being a common occurrence.
"I disagree." he smiled over his shoulder, tipping the bottle carefully into the swirling bath to leave several drops of the oil. The wood and floral scent already permeating through the steam and, perhaps, making you more pliable to his suggestions from the relaxing effect. "I believe this to be just the occasion for a little of your favorite."
Shyly, you placed the bottle into his palm and it was worth it just to see the way his eye crinkled at your acquiescence. After adding the drops he placed both scents back into their proper place. How he had learned the way you had organized the assortment, you could only guess at. It was most certainly done in secret, how he learned his way around new things within your apartment. Likely he had stood before the set, taking in the scents of each one in order until their placement was engraved in his mind.
As the bath continued to fill, he stepped before you, the backs of his hands introducing himself to how you stood. His touch first reached your shoulders, and he took a half step closer, running his hands down your back until he could feel the hem of your shirt. Lifting it off your torso, he placed it into the hamper beside the door, keeping one hand along your waist before he continued to undo your pants. His movements were languid and purposeful, as he tugged both underclothing and trousers down and lifted each foot in turn to remove them completely. Fishing into one of your drawers, where he knew you kept your hair accessories, he lifted a large clip and deftly twisted your hair up and fastened it in place. And throughout all of it, you were silently watching.
This was different from seduction. The way he was touching you was familiar and intimate, but begged no response other than acceptance. This was the result of years together. Not that there wasn't an instant flame that burned in your stomach upon catching the way his gaze would somehow become heated when he caught a whiff of your perfume at just the right time, or when your hands would brush together when you both reached for the same vegetable when both of you were preparing a meal, or when he would murmur in your ear something so delightfully sinful and quiet that it made your knees weak. Yes, the mutual attraction was still definitively and, sometimes palpably, there, but at that moment - with his arms around your chest protectively, holding you close and pressing chaste kisses to your cheeks - what lie between you was almost more intimate than a fully sated appetite.
"Sounds as if the bath is almost ready," he told you, and you opened your eyes after enjoying the comforting embrace to glance over. Sure enough, the waterline was just about to the point where it would be dangerous to allow it to continue to rise. His hand never left your skin as he traced his palm down your arm and laced your fingers together. It would always strike you in times such as these at how his hands had changed when you had returned to Insomnia. They had been rough and calloused the first time you'd held them bare, but now, while the callouses still were there as he kept up his training and did more than his fair share of labor during rebuilding, they were supple and soft. He led you to the edge of the tub and stopped the water flowing, testing both the temperature and the height of the waterline with a finger that ran along the side of the marble. "Allow me."
His offer to help settle you into the hot, fragrant water did not go unappreciated. As you sank beneath the surface, the bath deep enough to cover your knees and breasts as you sat, a sigh of contentment escaped your lips before you murmured a tremulous 'thank you' to him. His hands only left you then, moving to begin removing his own clothing with brisk motions. Holding out his hand for guidance he really didn't need, you reached for it and he stepped into the bath and settled behind you. Leaning back against the sloping edge, he pulled you easily along with him, your head once again on his shoulder. The only sound for a moment was the sharp pitch of water being lifted by his cupped palm to pour over your shoulders, tension literally running off you with the rivulets the liquid made down your skin.
After a time, the heat seeping into your muscles and allowing your body to go slack against the one behind you, him all toned and lean muscle as your pillow, he seemed to take it as a sign to put the rest of his plan in action. You could feel his movements, lifting a woven terry cloth from the side of the tub, and then the sound of a bottle being opened. Even with your eyes closed, you knew it was the soap you still continued to make for the two of you, random lessons in survival and cleanliness still being as important now as when all production of most everything shut down. It was functional and practical, scentless, but more recently you had made it more indulgent and moisturizing by adding aegir seed oil.
He started with your hand, working with the worn cloth and lather on each of your fingers before moving up your to your palm, then wrist. Each stroke a different pressure, both cleansing and massaging muscle and sinew. You couldn't help a slight moan as he untangled knots beneath your skin that you hadn't even realized were there. And once your arm was sufficiently scrubbed and rubbed, he submerged the cloth to rinse it and then squeezed water from it to wash away the remnant bubbles. The sensation of it sent warm tingles through each of your nerves, causing a pleasurable shiver. Then you heard the bottle opening again to bring out another small dollop of soap, and he began again with your other arm.
It went slowly, him cleaning and washing away every speck of dirt and sweat from the day from your body. With every swipe of the washcloth, every dousing of the water, every touch of his skin against yours, you found more than just the physical remnants of a hard day's work being erased. He had insisted to 'assist with the rest' after your session of bawling like a forlorn child had helped to ease the pangs of grief your encounter had wrought. At first you had thought he meant the physical, once this repetitive ritual had begun, but now you were realizing that what the salty tears hadn't done, he was doing in their stead. To be so well loved, treasured, and cherished - and especially by one who had been a feature of steadfast strength, even in his own darkest moments of turmoil - was like having an elixir applied to the scars that were buried so deep, even you did not know how to reach them.
Of course, from his position, he was not able to reach all of you. So he proceeded to bend over you, stretching and plying your body as a new dimension to his care. As one limb flexed, another's tension was coaxed out until you were no longer sure where your skin ended and the water began. Every part of you was now clean, save for your hair, but you supposed that could wait until your morning shower, and he wrung out the washcloth only to drape it over the edge of the tub as you turned your body toward his. Now chest to chest, you sprawled over him and wrapped your arms around his waist.
"Thank you, Ignis…" you said against his skin as you placed a chaste kiss to his shoulder. One arm came to brace around the small of your back, and the other cradled your head as he lifted your face toward his.
"You're certainly welcome." he smiled down at you. "But I'm not finished just yet."
You couldn't help the furrow in your brow. "How? As… wonderful as this is, if you scrub anymore you'll probably reach bone!"
His laugh was clear and bubbled from his chest. Catching a stray lock of your hair in his hand, he tugged. "This… seems to be rather neglected, at present."
"That sounds like it involves standing up."
"It does."
An involuntary groan came from you as your buried your face into his neck with his light insistence that you would have to move. You were finally feeling more like yourself, more put together and whole, but it didn't mean that you were ready to relinquish the moment you were sharing, even if the idea of his hands providing the same treatment to your scalp sounded divine.
"I don't want to move." You couldn't help but sigh, but it wasn't without teasing.
"Hm, of course, if you would rather stay here, we can do so. But I daresay the expiration of warmth is soon at hand." At this infallible logic, you pouted through a small smile.
"Very well." You said through another long, exaggerated sigh, doing your best to imitate his familiar phrase of assent and longsuffering that was usually reserved for King Noctis' inane moments. You moved to stand up with considerable effort as you reminded your muscles what they were meant to do. He stood with you, the water rushing off both your bodies and cascading back down your legs. Catching your face between his hands, he pulled you in for a kiss.
"I thank you for your indulgence." he muttered against your lips, giving a playful nip - your previous tone not lost on him. You hummed a laugh and tangled your hands into the hair at his nape.
"I love you." You whispered as you parted.
"And I love you." His smile and voice was warm as a decadent chocolate. One more indulgent kiss was shared before he finagled you both out of the tub, bending to unstop the water and allow it to drain away. "A shower?" He offered and you hummed your agreement.
He was as good as his unspoken promise and combed his fingers delicately through your hair after your stepped into the separate shower. This time, however, you didn't allow yourself to relax as much as you had in your scented bath, the necessity of standing overpowering your previous treatment. But more than that, you intended to at least give a little bit back to him, even if you sensed that he wouldn't allow you to do exactly as he had done for you.
Once your hair was rinsed, he moved to shut off the water and you stayed his hand.
"Not yet." You said simply and he turned his head toward yours in question. The terry cloth was quite forgotten in the tub, and so you had to use your hands, but as if running your fingers along his stunning body was lamentable. You pushed him to be directly under the spray and soaped up your hands before moving around to his back. Your palms pressed against his shoulders as you began to rub in slow rotations.
"Far be it from me to complain of your lovely hands being on me, but I didn't mean this to invite reciprocation, my dear." he chuckled as he recognized what you were doing. Rolling to stand on your toes, you kissed the base of his neck.
"I know. But indulge me anyway."
He nodded and smiled over his shoulder, allowing you to continue. It wasn't quite the full body massage that he had given you, but you did do your best to work out any tightened muscles along his shoulders and back before moving to his defined arms, and then down to his impossibly long legs. You couldn't resist small kisses being placed at random intervals along his body after the water raining down had rinsed away all of the lather. For his hair, he was just simply too tall to reach, and so you coaxed him to sitting on the bench that had served to be a platform for far less innocent deeds while you had enjoyed each other before.
Standing between his legs, you worked your hands through his silken hair. His hands were on either side of your waist, tracing random patterns with his fingers as you reached for the shower head to detach it and wash away the same soap that you had made before. It was a delightful surprise that not only had the aegir oil aided in your skin being softer, but it had also allowed yours and his hair to shine far more healthily than it had before. Small signs such as this, of life returning to how it was before Noctis' disappearance, were continuous reminders of hope and that, while it would still be some time yet, the harshness of survival was ebbing back into simple luxuries.
"I think I'll make a few bottles of this soap to take to them." You mused aloud as the water began to run clear. Replacing the shower head, you turned off the water. Ignis wrapped his arms around you from his sitting position and pulled you close.
"To whom?" he asked as he kissed softly along your ribcage. Your fingers were once more in his hair, combing through and styling it absentmindedly to his preferred coiffure.
"The family I met today. I think they might need something to feel more… normal, or safe… Maybe like, their journey is over and they can begin to settle?" You paused, "I don't know, is that silly?"
"On the contrary," he smiled up at you, standing and then reaching for the pair of towels he had set out before your bath. "I think it is an excellent idea."
You helped each other to dry off, and before you could pick up your own comb, he took it from your grasp.
"I'm still not finished assisting you." he smirked, his still damp locks framing his perfect face. Once he had confessed vanity and pride in how he used to look, lamenting that you couldn't know him as he used to be - and further still, was very sorry he could never know exactly what you looked like. While you had seen a plethora of pictures, courtesy of Prompto, you were quick to reassure him as often as he needed that the scars on his face did not detract from his physical beauty. With time, his scars had lightened and faded, the large portion over his forever closed right eye no longer the angry maroon when you had first met him.
Rolling back up to your toes to kiss his cheek, you smiled at him.
"You are far too good to me, Ignis."
"I simply love you." he dismissed his own kindness with the humility that had drawn you to him in the first place. "Now," his tone instantly changed to business, "Kindly sit and allow me to tame your lovely hair."
You laughed as you took a seat on the vanity stool in front of the steam covered mirror. Towel wrapped around your chest, and his wrapped around his waist. With the same attention, the same gentleness and caring, he worked the comb through your locks and deftly fashioned a simple plait so you wouldn't awaken to a terror of unkempt curls and kinks. And once the bathroom was put back into order, towels hanging to dry and steam filtering out of the small window, he wrapped his arms around you once again.
"Are you now set to rights, my love?" he whispered against your ear. You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath against your cooling skin.
"Mm, better than I was before I woke up." You replied with a hum of contentment. While it still seemed as though he had given far more than you had, your relationship had never been one of contest of affections. Today had been your emotional day, and you quietly vowed that on his own, you would be there to soothe and offer comfort. That had always been how it worked between you both, an easy give and take for whenever the other had needed it, and you saw no reason to suspect that it wouldn't continue just as it always had. "But now-" you leaned into him with a stifled yawn, "I'm ready to just hold you as we fall asleep."
"That, my dear, is another excellent idea."
"Well, I've been known to have them time to time. Like being with you."
He chuckled and scooped you up into his arms, carrying you out of the bathroom and to your shared bed. As he brushed his lips across your temple, he murmured low:
"The sentiment is decidedly mutual."