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Thorns of the Heart

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You loved your life. For once, everything was perfect, and you could not be any happier.  Your position as the curator for the Insomnia National History Museum was going smoothly and completely devoted yourself to your work. You thanked the Gods for the perfect job because your work is where you met the love of your life—and your biggest weakness—Ignis Stupeo Scientia.

You hear him shuffle out from under the covers and head towards the bathroom, and that was your queue to start his coffee. As you throw a half cup of Ebony beans into a grinder and set the grind to fine, you hear the sound of the shower starting. Humming to yourself quietly as you transferred the dark brown grounds into the coffee filter, you fill the compartment with water and start the drip. You feel incredibly drowsy, you are not a morning person whatsoever. You started to wake up earlier when you moved in with Ignis, because you found it hard to sleep in a cold, lonely bed without your source of comfort. You absent-mindedly play with a long lock of hair, as you think about how much you adored your fiancé, reminiscing of the first day you met him.

You were arranging a label under some new photography pieces that had been donated to the museum. This month’s theme was Heroes of Eos, dedicated to all the brave souls who have fought to keep the kingdom safe. As you began to install final label, you glanced up at the portrait before you. It was a beautiful action shot of a tall man with ash blonde hair fighting a Behemoth. How talented must this man be, to be able to capture his subjects grace and strength?

The subject emanated elegance from his pose, yet also exuded an air of brutal strength. His sleeves were half rolled up, and you could see his strong forearms flexing. In his hands were two large daggers, one pointed at the beast, and the other bracing in self-defense. His chiseled face was concentrated and stern and his glasses lay perfectly on the bridge of his nose. You swear you could see the subject's ripped abdominal muscles through his shirt, as he was mid-flex. This blonde man truly looked like a work of art. Gods, was he truly beautiful. 

You sighed as you glanced up at canvas once again, and placed the label underneath it.

"Prompto Argentum (b. 2101) 
Spec-tactular, 2121
You chuckled at reading the strange name of the portrait, why would someone name it something so...random? You let out a slight sigh and say to yourself, "Hmph. What an odd portrait name, sometimes I just don't understand artists."

Suddenly, you hear a dark, accented voice say, "Yes, I do say I must agree with you, miss." You jump at the sound of another's voice. You thought you were alone, as it was far too early in the morning for any visitors to tour the museum.

You begin your usual spiel "I'm sorry, sir, but visiting hours have not begun yet." As you turn your head, you happen to see none other than a tall, slender man, with ash blond hair and...wait. Were those glasses? The same glasses as the subject of Spec-tacular. Your pulse increased, and you felt yourself turn a light shade of pink.

"Oh, uh...." you manage to stammer out, nervous as all hell. The tall man spoke, his musky voice making you blush even deeper, "Do not be alarmed, I was simply passing by. The Gods were in my favor today and there was barely any traffic in my commute, so I decided to peruse the museum for a moment. I’m sorry if I had caught you off guard.” He smiled slightly, his emerald green eyes crinkling at the corners. The man stretched out a gloved hand, “I believe introductions are in place. My name is Ignis. Ignis Scientia. Advisor to the King, and lead Tactician. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Oh my Gods, oh my Gods, squealing to yourself internally. Keep it cool, don’t geek out, and stay professional.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Scientia. I am (Y/N), curator for the museum,” you reply, stretching your hand towards his. He delicately grabbed your dainty hand, and brought it to his lips and laid one delicate kiss on the top. You felt yourself shudder. “Please, call me Ignis,” he said, raising his cool eyes to meet yours, “would you like to grab a cup of Ebony with me?”


You snapped out of your reverie when heard your stomach growl. Suddenly, you something bitter, and noticed you had left the fresh coffee in the pot for far too long. Crap, I think I burned the coffee, you thought to yourself. Secretly hoping Ignis wouldn't be upset, you frantically tried to grind a new batch of beans before he was finished with his morning routine. Before you could shut the lid on the coffee grinder, you felt his presence in the kitchen.

“Oh! Good morning Iggy!” you said cheerily. You abandoned your idea of making a new cup, and poured him some of the slightly-burnt coffee, hoping he wouldn’t notice. You brought the mug to his place at the table and kissed him on the top of his head. “Morning, dear,” Ignis said, studying the newspaper in his hand. “What are you hungry for, (Y/N)?” your lover inquired. Your reply was the same as always: “Whatever you feel like making!” Ignis took a sip of his coffee, and immediately scowled, “(Y/N) dear… Why does my coffee taste so Gods awful?”

Your heart sank at his disappointment. You had never made a bad cup of Ebony. In fact, Ignis said the way you made Ebony was the best he’s ever had! A knot in your stomach formed, as a wave of anxiety crashed over you. “S-sorry, Ignis…. I lost track of time daydreaming. I can make you a new one!” You tried to fix the situation as best you could, hoping he would accept your offer. “No, that’s quite alright. Let me prepare breakfast for us for now. I can get a cup of Ebony on my way to work,” he said, as he felt your body language recoil in sadness.

He enveloped you in his sturdy arms, bringing you closer to him and he plays with your hair. You snake your arms around his waist and reciprocate the hug. You’re intoxicated by his scent—leather, fresh cotton and Ebony. The way he caressed you in his loving embrace soothed you. All of your anxieties and worries about ruining his day melted off your body. I should thank him for not being too mad at my blunder, you thought to yourself. You always tried to be as perfect as you could for Ignis. He was the Gods gift to you, he was someone who rarely ever made a mistake. Someone who deserved a partner who was faultless. In the head of the moment, you found your heart beaming with so much love that you couldn't stand it.

Without thinking, you let the words roll right off your tongue, “I love you, Ignis.”