"World was on fire and no one could save me but you
Strange what desire will make foolish people do"
-Chris Isaak

Wicked Games

Aranea slammed her glass down hard on the pub table, gasping for air, then sneering at her two cohorts sitting across from her. Biggs and Wedge, her longtime friends and subordinates in the military, were still trying desperately to gulp down their craft beers, failing as the liquid dribbled out the corners of their mouths. Finally, Biggs gave up and, ashamed, placed the glass on the table while Wedge still tried to live up to the bet that was placed upon the two of them.

"Give it up, Wedge. You can't beat me," Aranea emphasized the final words, wiping lazily at her lips with her thumb. Biggs rolled his eyes and Wedge eventually conceded defeat, bringing the nearly empty glass of beer from his lips and mumbling angry curses under his breath. The two men placed their gil in front of them and Aranea reached across and swiped it into her palms, counting and pocketing it without a second though.

"We'll be broke if we keep this up," Biggs disparaged, shoving Wedge like it was his fault they lost the bet in the first place. Wedge pushed back, but Aranea didn't seem to notice, nor care.

"Not my problem," she stated dryly. "Maybe next time you'll learn your lesson before thinking you can take me on. Thought you would know this by now, but I'll keep taking your gil if that's what you guys want. No skin off my nose."

A loud, boisterous laugh snapped her attention over to a table of four young men. One of them, a large, tattooed man, was pounding on the table with his fists as he continued to howl and draw ire glares their way. To his right was a dusty-blonde man, cross-legged and rather annoyed as he sipped his—what appeared to be—scotch with pursed lips. On the other side of the table were two younger guys, laughing just as hard as the tattooed man. It looked like they were mercilessly cracking jokes at the annoyed man's expense.

"Well, they seem to be having fun," Wedge droned, knocking back the rest of his beer before raising a hand to call the server over. It was a busy night, so it took a moment or two for the woman to make her way to them, but she was apologetic and eager to take their order. Aranea nodded for another round, subtly motioning to put it all on her tab.

After all, it was her idea to go out this evening. How often were they in the Crown City, after all? It was a city that many outside the Wall only dreamed of visiting. Granted, they were here on governmental orders to speak with the king, tagging along with the emperor and some other officials, and fun was limited to just a few short hours of their trip, but still.

When the laughter died down, Aranea tutted disapprovingly and circled her finger around the edge of her glass, obviously bored. The table of four men burst into merriment again. "Who are those guys?" she hissed. "Goddamn, they're annoying."

Biggs peered just beyond Aranea's shoulder to get a better look and then shrugged. "Not sure, m'lady. Looks almost like th' prince and his entourage, but that's absurd, yeh agree? Out here in public like this?"

"Far too rambunctious to be the prince, I say," Wedge agreed. "They'd give the Royal Family a bad name if that were the case."

Aranea tossed her silver hair, tied up in braids and black ribbon, and scoffed. "Definitely. This district is too rowdy for the likes of royalty, anyway."

Wedge's face contorted and twisted into one of confusion. "But, Lady A . . . you're royalty.

"No, I'm a military official. There's a difference," she corrected, tipping her empty glass in Wedge's direction. "Besides, they seem like they're having too much fun for it to be the prince and his gang. Figured the Royal Family and its lineage would be stuffier or whatever."

The table of four men behind her shouted again and Aranea turned in her chair. She opened her mouth to yell at them to 'shut the fuck up', but stopped when her eyes caught that of the irate, bespectacled man. He was unamused as the two younger men, one blonde and the other jet-black haired, chugged their beers much like she had just moments ago with her friends.

He looked at her, intense and penetrating, and sat up in his chair, the ice in his glass settling as a single drip of condensation fell off the bottom and on the fabric of his pants. His features were sharp and he looked incredibly put together, the coeurl print shirt fitted over his lean, yet muscular, frame. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he feigned a grin in Aranea's direction, his eyes just about begging for help. She wanted to mouth 'Sorry' or something that showed she took pity on him, but all she could do was giggle nervously. The way he held himself, held that glass, held her gaze, made Aranea feel things.

"Sorry about that wait, guys!" the server from earlier yelled over the crowd, a tray of three drinks in her hand. Aranea snapped her head back to the table as her drink was placed carefully in front of her. "Let me know if you guys need anything else, alright? I'll check back on you in a bit!"

"About damn time," Wedge mumbled when she was out of earshot, taking a long gulp of his beer. Biggs followed suit, but Aranea turned back around to look at the guy she'd locked eyes with. His friends were still there—though their drinks were gone and the three of them looked progressively sloppy—but his chair was now empty. Her eyes darted around the room, hoping that maybe he hadn't left.

"Whatcha lookin' fer, Lady A?" Biggs asked, grunting as someone unapologetically bumped into the back of his chair.

At first, Aranea ignored his question and continued to look around the bar. With a sigh, she sat back in her chair. "There was a guy at that table. Glasses, spiked hair, dressed in a suit. Easy on the eyes, too. I think he left, though. He's not there anymore."

Wedge pointed just over her shoulder at a spot at the bar. "Yeh mean that guy?"

She spun around, following the direction of her subordinate's finger. It was hard to judge while he was sitting, but now Aranea could see he was much taller than she thought. His jaw was set firmly, displaying his frustration at the lack of service he was receiving.

"Yup, that's him," she confirmed. "And, what a coincidence! I'm incredibly thirsty." Aranea guzzled down her beer so fast, it even impressed her two friends. With an undignified swipe of her lips with the back of her hand, she scooted her chair back enough so she could get up from the table. She saw the knowing looks exchanged between the guys. "Oh, don't you dare throw those judging looks at each other. I'm in a foreign city, there's an attractive guy at the bar, and I'm single."

One of them, Aranea wasn't sure who, coughed uncomfortably. Then, Wedge frowned. "Single fer now. Yeh said things weren't cleared up with— "

Aranea practically leaped across the table to shut him up. "Ah! Ah ah, no! Don't even say his name. Don't ruin my good mood by bringing that fucker into this conversation. I'm single."

"Aranea, he had no choice," Biggs reasoned, his voice softer now.

"Yeah, he did. He could've had my back. That asshole chose to sit while I had to fend for myself in front of council. He didn't even so much as bat an eye while I got my ass chewed out for that mission . . . a mission he convinced me would be good for my career. So, no. Fuck him. We're done. Now, if you'll excuse me," she sneered, "I have a date with a hot gentleman at the bar."

"Call us if yeh need us!" Biggs hollered as Aranea disappeared into the crowd.

Ignis tapped his finger impatiently on the sticky, laminated wood of the bar, waiting to be acknowledged amongst the drunken crowd. The ice in his drink had melted to create a diluted version of the scotch he'd been working on. Normally, he'd order his scotch neat, but this was a cheap dive bar and the stuff he was used to was a foreign label to these people. As a result, he was forced to drink this bottom of the barrel stuff and he tried to offset the taste with some ice. A futile effort since all it did was water down the already shitty liquor.

His buzz was beginning to wane and he was growing irritable by the minute, internally seething and, if he were being honest, desperate to leave right now. The only reason he was even here was that Noctis was a nervous wreck with the upcoming peace talks with Niflheim. It would be the first time he'd show his prowess in front of not only his father but a foreign nation's leaders as well. Noctis wanted a night off from the stress of the every day and dammit if Ignis wasn't going to tag along to make sure his prince at least minded his manners while out.

Noctis had promised only a drink, maybe two, and then they'd go home. But, that was before Gladiolus, his Shield, insisted on coming to keep them safe and before Prompto, Noctis' best friend, begged to tag along. So, here was Ignis, sticking out like a sore thumb among the three as they drunkenly giggled and hiccupped over the stupidest shit.

"Excuse me, can I— "

"Sir, could you give me just a minute? These customers at the end of the bar were here first. I'll be right with you, though," the bartender hurried, popping open the tops of two beer bottles and rushing away from Ignis.

"Certainly," he hissed, rolling his eyes and bringing his glass to his lips to savor the watery alcohol. He flipped a gil in the air, watching it twirl before catching it in his palm, only to repeat the action a second and third time. With every passing second, he resisted the urge to snap at the nearest employee of the establishment for just one drink.

It was like he was invisible in this goddamn bar.

"You look thirsty," a low, throaty voice crooned from behind. Ignis jumped, startled by the intrusion. He looked over his shoulder at a beautiful, very well-endowed woman with the most devilish smirk spread across her red lips. "Need some help?" she nudged.

Ignis narrowed his eyes and moved slightly to make room for the woman at the bar. She scooted her way in and leaned with one elbow resting on the countertop while half-sitting on a stool. She didn't say anything else and Ignis debated leaving his glass on the bar and walking out the door. He'd had it with the night and the effort of chasing any sort of buzz was nearly exhausting at this point. Still, something about the woman in front of him intrigued him. "I've tried, but the service here is abysmal. I have great doubts you'll be able to accomplish what I've tried to achieve in the last five minutes."

The woman let out a hearty laugh and turned, leaning almost completely over the entire bar, her long fingers outstretched. "Hey! You! Bartender! Can we get some drinks over here? My friend here and I are thirsty and your sorry asses are going to lose out on a pretty sweet tip if you don't serve us!" she threatened, earning a few glares from surrounding patrons. The bartender nodded apologetically and came right over to grab their order. One scotch on the rocks and one 32-ounce beer on special.

When both drinks were placed in front of the pair and the payment settled, Ignis couldn't help but smirk and raise his glass to the woman who helped him. "Thank you for this . . . erm . . ." he paused, grasping at straws for her name.

"Aranea," she said, holding out a hand. Ignis shook it and admired the way she held herself and how firm her grip was. "Aranea Highwind."

For a brief second, a flash of recognition crossed Ignis' face. He'd heard that name somewhere. It wasn't a common name, by any means, and he specifically remembered that it was the name of someone who was an official. Someone who held quite a bit of power. The fact that he couldn't recall who it was he was trying to think of bothered him more than he cared to admit. Ignis figured it would be one of those things where it would come to him in an instant if he just stopped dwelling on it, so he put the thought aside for now.

He shook his head and smiled. "Ignis Scientia," he returned with his own name, clinking his glass to hers and savoring the smoky liquor as it sat on his tongue before swallowing. Gods, he needed this. He thought about ordering another one while he still could, just to avoid waiting in between drinks, but Aranea was one step ahead of him and already had her gil on the edge of the counter for another round. She shot him a knowing look with a wink and he smiled in return, swirling his drink.

"So, Ignis," she hummed, leaning just so the v-neck of her shirt revealed her cleavage, "what brings you out here on a Wednesday night? You looked bored as fuck, and this place doesn't seem like a joint you'd willingly go to on a weeknight unless you were dragged here by your buddies against your own free will."

"What kind of 'joint' do you assume I'd frequent, if not this one?" Ignis kept his eyes focused on hers, willing her to smirk when he didn't fall for her trap of seducing him with her low-cut shirt.

She took a long swig of her beer, eyeing him up and down and analyzing who she thought he was. "One of those high-class cocktail lounges with the padded, velvet booths, the girls in tight-ass black dresses, a man playing piano in the middle of the room, and hushed conversations," Aranea stopped, tilting her head curiously. "Did I get it close?"

Ignis shook his head and leaned casually against the bar, his drink in one hand while his other hand waved her assumptions off with an air of superiority. "I'm afraid you couldn't be further from the truth. I'd much rather be home right now as I have quite the amount of paperwork to sift through." He pushed his glasses up with his middle finger. "While I can't deny that I do love a good time, a tavern like this is not the type of place I'd call 'fun', so you at least have that correct."

"So, then why are you here, instead of at home like a hermit?"

He pointed through a gap in the mass of people to the table he was at before. "The young man with the black hair? The besotted gentleman sitting on the right-hand side of the table?" he began, embarrassed as Noctis and Prompto raced, again, to see who could finish their drinks fastest, but instead spewing the beer everywhere when Gladio made them laugh at some dumb joke. Ignis lowered his head in shame, covering his face with his free hand and sighing. "He's my student and I agreed to allow him a night out for keeping up with his work. It appears he's having far more fun than I usually would allow . . . but I digress."

"Oh, you're a teacher?"

He nodded slightly. "Private tutor, if you will, as well as family friend. His father took me in when I was a child and I've been indebted to them ever since. It's my duty to look after him, but I seem to have lost sight of that tonight." It wasn't a lie; more like omitting the larger aspects of what he did for Noctis and the royal family. One could never be too careful. Anything to keep Noctis' identity a secret from meddlesome strangers.

"I see. So, you're like, what? Super smart or something?"

A small chuckle. "You could say that."

"Arrogant, too. Cocky."

Ignis laughed again and, this time, his eyes almost lit up. He shot another quick look over to the three friends at his table, oblivious to his absence. "You know, I was about to head back to the table to babysit my friends, but would you like to accompany me outside instead? It's a tad stuffy in here and I could use the fresh air. We could keep a tab open if you'd like?"

With a small gesture to the door, Aranea complied. "Thought you'd never ask. Just lead the way."

Time flew when the two were outside chatting. It started out as small talk at first, but the alcohol worked to keep the conversation flowing, both uninhibited and flirtatious.

"Sexy accent you have there. You could read a dictionary and make it sound hot," she complimented. Ignis chuckled while another round of drinks, ordered earlier, was deposited on the wrought-iron table they were sitting at. The night air grew crisp, the telltale sign of the arrival of autumn, and both drank thankfully from their glasses in an attempt to warm themselves and hold off the chill of the night a bit longer. "Which leads me to my next question: are you from here?"

Ignis frowned. "I'm afraid I am not."

"Where are you from, then, if you're not from here?"

"Wouldn't you love you know?" he returned in a facetious manner, the liquor having turned his prior sour disposition into a more fun and carefree one. As she grunted her exasperation, he smiled and relented. "Tenebrae. I was born and raised in Tenebrae until the age of six, where I was then sent here to attend to the prin—er, my pupil."

Her eyes widened. "Goddamn, you've been working since you were six? The pay must be fucking killer if you've stayed as a tutor for this long," she remarked, receiving a narrowed glare from across the table. Aranea scoffed, crossing her legs in a huff but never turning away from him. Apparently, talking about pay was uncouth in his eyes.

When he felt she learned her lesson—though, he could read people enough to know that she was stubborn and really didn't care what he, or anyone else, thought—his face softened and he knocked his drink back. "What about you? Insomnia may be quite large, but I've never seen your face in this city."

She could feel her heart as it thudded against the inside of her chest. It would be foolish to tell him she was from Niflheim and she was just in town for the peace talks, so instead, she lied. "I'm from a small town in Lucis. Probably one you've never heard of. You know . . . one of those that are just outside of a big city."

He pursed his lips. "A town I've never heard of? Try me. I think you'll find I know far more than you think."

"I doubt it," she wavered, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him. "It's not a huge—"

"Where's it near? Coernix Bypass? Kettier Highland? Vannath Coast?" he listed, noting the crease between her eyebrows as she fought for composure. "You said it yourself, my dear, that I am quite intelligent—my knowledge of our world's cities and towns is no exception.

They were caught in a stalemate when Aranea started to drink more and more to busy herself. Ignis realized she wasn't keen on letting on where she was from, for whatever reason, and she wondered if he'd ever let up on asking. Finally, she let out a heaving sigh as she caught her breath from chugging her beer. "Tell you what; you take me out on a proper date one day when I'm back in town. Then, and only then, I'll let you in on where I'm from. Until you do, I'm keeping my lips sealed."

Ignis reclined back in his chair, regarding Aranea down the length of his nose. "Ahh, is that what we're playing at? A . . . proper date?" he tried the words out, much to Aranea's chagrin.

"It's only fair, seeing as I'm the reason you were able to get that drink of yours at the bar. Without me, you'd still be up there, waiting for that stupid bartender to come back to you," she teased, giving him a wink as she propped her chin up in the palm of her hand.

"And how might I properly come pick you up from your home if you don't divulge that information to me? You wouldn't make me search every remote village and town in Lucis looking for you, would you? It would be imprudent of you to allow that to happen," he stated, his voice dripping with dry humor.

The more he drank, the looser he felt. His synapses were dulled and his tongue was beginning to feel too big for his mouth with every drink he ordered, but he had no desire to leave this beautiful stranger alone.

Ignis was no fool; he saw the way the other men in this bar looked at her and the glares he received for being so damn privileged to even be in Aranea's presence. He knew if he even so much as blinked, one of several men would try to swoop in and take his place. Like hell would he let that happen. It had been far too long since he felt this strong of an attraction toward someone else and she managed to simultaneously paralyze and enliven him in both the best and worst ways. He wasn't about to let her go that easy.

But life never works out the way anyone expects it to.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask another question in an attempt to get to know her better, Ignis was shoved forward by someone splaying their arms around his shoulders. "Specs! Heeyyy buddy! Theeereee you aarre! Whatcha dooin' ou' here? We were lookin' all over for youuu," Noctis' voice slurred in Ignis' ear, reeking of the several beers he downed. Every word was dragged out, elongated and incoherent to the untrained ear. Ignis, however, had dealt with an intoxicated Noctis on many occasions, especially now that he and Prompto were both of legal Insomnian drinking age. His speech while drunk was nothing Ignis couldn't decipher. "Prom's s-sick as fuuckk in the bathroom and I'm tired and Gladio's like . . . dude is gone. So wasted. He's drunk and . . . heyyy, who's this?" he stopped, judging the woman across the table through a half-lidded stare.

Aranea snorted and Ignis shrugged Noctis' arms from around him. Upon standing, Ignis realized just how inebriated he was, the ground and his surroundings spinning, throwing his balance off so he had to grip tight to Noctis' bicep. After giving Aranea a sheepish grin, Ignis took Noctis to the side, in the shadows against the outside wall of the bar, and whispered firmly in his ear. "Highness, you've got to get a hold of yourself, for the love of the Six. You're going to draw attention your way and that is something we cannot afford right now, especially if Gladio is as incapacitated as you say he is."

Noctis cocked his head to the side, unable to focus on Ignis. "Duuuude, you gooottta stop using biiiiig words. In . . . inca . . . incapaticated? Inpacacipated? Iggy, duddde, it hurts my head."

Ignis sighed. "I assure you that my vocabulary is not the reason for your headache."

Noctis danced from foot to foot, nearly stumbling over at one point before Ignis managed to catch him, righting him and holding both shoulders in his hands. He searched Noctis' face for any sort of sign that he was cognizant, but it was clear that the prince was three sheets to the wind and had no idea the scene he was starting to cause. A drunken smile curled the corners of his lips. "Specs. I'm. So. Plastered." Every word was punctuated as if he wanted to hammer home just how drunk he was. "We gootta go hooooommmeeee. You dr-drove us so youuuu take us . . . take me . . . I'm tiiirrred."

Ignis pushed his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose and frowned. "Unfortunately, and rather irresponsibly of me, I've had entirely too much to drink and I'm afraid I cannot drive us home tonight," he admitted, embarrassed that he'd let his obligations fall to the wayside tonight, all because he was hypnotized by Aranea Highwind's charm and failed to keep track of his alcohol intake. "Noctis, would it be fine with you if I were to grab a cab for you and the others?" he kept his voice low and the mention of Noctis' name even lower. No one could know that he was the Noctis, future king of Insomnia.

Especially in a state like this.

"Duuude, come onnnn. You can't expect me to go hooommee all by myself. You have to—" he hiccupped and giggled, " –Specs, you have to come with. Iss my fault you are here. Alllll my fault and I'm just . . . Specs you're such a good friend, you know that?"

"Thank you, Highness."

Noctis sputtered a weird sound, something like a mix between laughter and a noise that showed his disapproval at the title. Although Noctis was royalty, Ignis knew he always preferred to leave the formalities at the door when they were out and about like they were tonight. Still, it was a request that Ignis couldn't find in his heart to follow. The use of the title was so engrained in him that it was just habit at this point.

"Ok, soooo . . . you're coming wi-with ussss . . . right? You hhhaaavveee to come wiiithh uss!" Another hiccup and snicker.

Ignis shifted uncomfortably, debating the best course of action in this situation. He could stay and chat with Aranea after calling a cab for his friends, but that would go against all of his prior vows and sworn oaths of personally seeing to it that his liege was always brought home in one piece. It didn't matter that Gladio and Prompto would be with him, especially if they were just as impaired as Noctis was.

Unfortunately, it looked like Ignis had no choice but to leave. He guided Noctis back to the table where Aranea sat patiently, amused at the pair. "Apologies, but it seems my friend needs help getting home tonight. I hope you don't find it rude of me to accompany my companions back to his apartment."

She shrugged. "Not at all, but then who's going to make sure you get back to your apartment alright?"

"I am apt to take care of myself. There's no need to worry yourself over my wellbeing, though I do appreciate the thought."

"Yeah, but safety in numbers and all that. Besides, this place is getting dull and I'm sure my friends already left to go back to their hotel rooms. So?" Aranea insisted, a twinkle in her eye. "What do you say, Ignis?"

The loud chatter of the bar patrons floated outside into the cool autumn air, creating a soft white noise. Then, Ignis smirked and took a chance—one he wasn't sure he normally would've taken if he were half as sober. "I don't suppose you have anywhere to be in the morning?"

"Not unless it includes sleeping in with you in your bed."

Ignis felt the blood rush from his head down to his member in his pants, yet there was still enough blood to turn his entire face bright red at the sudden forwardness of the woman he'd been talking to all night. It was suddenly hard to breathe and he wanted to moan at what she was brazenly implying.

Aranea kept a straight face, just innocent enough to drive Ignis crazy. As she finished off the last of her beer, he nodded. "I'll see to cashing out our tab and calling a big enough cab for the five of us. Meet us out front in ten minutes," Ignis instructed, leading Noctis away as he tried to drunkenly protest to release him at once.

Author's Note: Hello! I'm back! Got another multi-chapter fic coming your way! This is an AU and I plan on it being a lot darker and mature than my last one.

I'm excited to get this one going and I've talked at length about this for the last month with my husband and some friends, so I hope you guys enjoy! I'm happy to be back :)