Ash's chest ached at the raw strain in Ignis's voice. The Dragon Lord stood rigid, shoulders squared like he was bracing for battle, golden eyes burning with a storm of emotions he refused to name.
Ash took another careful step forward, the crutch tapping softly against the marble. "I'm not trying to make anything difficult," he said quietly. "I'm just… tired of pretending. You're standing there telling me to stop, but your tail keeps reaching for me. Last night you wrapped it around my ankle like you were afraid I'd disappear. You flew across half the continent the moment you heard I was hurt. Tell me that's only about duty. Tell me it's only for your daughter."
Ignis's jaw clenched so tightly Ash could see the muscle jump. His tail — that damned, honest tail — flicked once before curling tightly around his own leg in clear punishment.
"Duty is all it can be," Ignis growled, the words forced out like they physically pained him. "Seraphina cares for you. She sat by your bedside. She helped pull you from that river. You make her laugh. She will be happy with you. I will not steal my daughter's happiness because I… because I cannot control my own weakness."
The confession hung between them, heavy and fragile.
Ash's heart twisted. "Weakness," he echoed softly. "Is that what you call it when you look at me like I'm the only thing you've wanted in centuries?"
Ignis's golden eyes flashed with something close to panic. He turned sharply away, robes flaring, and stalked toward the tall windows as if distance could save him. The afternoon light poured over his dark chocolate skin and obsidian horns, outlining every tense line of his powerful frame.
"You are my daughter's intended," Ignis said, voice rough as grinding stone. "The man who will stand beside her, rule beside her, give her the future she deserves. I have spent decades ensuring she would never be second to anything. And now I stand here—"
He cut himself off with a low, bitter sound. "I refuse to become the kind of father who covets what belongs to his child."
Ash limped closer until he was only a few feet away. "She deserves honesty too, Ignis. We all do."
Ignis whirled back around.
For a moment the mask shattered completely — raw hunger, guilt, and aching longing all laid bare in those molten eyes. His claws flexed at his sides as if he wanted to reach out and pull Ash against him, but he held himself back with visible effort.
"Do not speak to me of honesty," he snarled softly. "You came here to woo my daughter. You smiled at her, made her laugh, built something real with her. You even brought her to your empire. And now you look at me like this? Like I am the one you cannot live without?" His voice dropped to a broken whisper. "It would be easier if I hated you for it."
Ash's breath caught. "Ignis…I..."
"No." Ignis held up a clawed hand, stopping him. His tail lashed violently once before he forced it still again. "I have decided. This… whatever this is, ends here. I will stay until the threat to the alliance is handled. I will do what a responsible father does. I will watch you stand beside her as you should. And I will bury this weakness so deep it never sees daylight again."
The words sounded final. They sounded like a king passing judgment.
But Ash saw the way Ignis's hand trembled slightly at his side. Saw the way those golden eyes kept drifting to his mouth, to the crutch, to the way Ash favored his injured leg. The Dragon Lord was fighting himself harder than he'd ever fought any enemy.
Ash gave him a small, sad smile. "So do you not care that I might just.... stop caring..."
Ignis's golden eyes flashed with something raw and dangerous. For one heartbeat, the Dragon Lord looked like he might close the distance and silence Ash with claws and mouth and sheer overwhelming presence. Instead, he took one deliberate step back, shoulders rigid, tail lashing once before he forced it still.
"Stop," Ignis said, voice low and strained. "Do not twist this into something it cannot be. You will not stop caring for Seraphina. She deserves better than half a heart, and I will not be the reason she receives it."
Ash's grip tightened on the crutch until his knuckles whitened. "And what if my heart was never fully hers to begin with?"
Ignis's jaw clenched so tightly Ash heard the faint grind of teeth. The Dragon Lord turned away sharply, presenting the broad, powerful line of his back as if it were armor.
"Then you are a better actor than I gave you credit for," Ignis said coldly. "You laughed with her. You prepared rooms for her. You risked your life in that river while she watched. Do not cheapen those moments now because you feel guilt toward me."
He glanced over his shoulder, golden eyes hard.
" Like I said. This ends here. Whatever weakness this is—whatever momentary madness the incense began—it dies tonight. You will court my daughter properly. You will make her happy. And I…" His voice roughened. "I will stand as her father and watch."
Ash felt the words like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to argue, but Ignis raised a clawed hand, cutting him off.
"Enough, Prince Asher. Do not make me repeat myself anymore."
The denial was ironclad. Ignis had wrapped himself in duty like a shroud, and right now, no amount of honesty seemed able to pierce it.
Ash exhaled shakily. "Fine," he said quietly. "If that's what you need to tell yourself."
He turned and limped toward the door, the crutch tapping like a slow heartbeat. He paused at the threshold, not looking back.
He lingered near for a long moment, heart pounding. He saw the genuine torment in Ignis's eyes and knew pushing now would only make the Dragon Lord retreat further behind his walls.
"Fine," Ash said softly. " I'll be a good little future son-in-law just like you wanted."
The title landed like a slap. Ignis flinched.
Ash needn't needed to turn around to feel that.
He closed the door gently behind him.