He'd loved the people of Eos once.

And then things had changed, and that love died, turned to ash by his own flames as he battled against those he'd once admired and helped. His rage blazed on for years, putting him at odds against even his own. Fouls. They were mistakenly enamored – just as he had once been. Even his beloved.

His anger clung to him, stewing for almost two millennia before receding. Receding. Not vanishing. It was merely pushed from his mind's forefront as he and Shiva rekindled their former relationship.

It was almost humorous. She'd once been against those smaller beings while he'd vouched for them. Time had reversed those standpoints. He wanted to take back every word he'd ever spoken to her that cast them in the light she now saw them in, but wanted her more. Her presence. Her love. The mortals weren't worth fighting with her over.

And so they stayed together while the other four slept. She kept an eye on the matters of the mortals. He did not.

Not until he was duped by the eldest Caelum – brought to his very knees and forced into servitude, despite Shiva's attempt to come to his aid.

He might have enjoyed setting the Crown City ablaze another time, but not when his every action was due to the beck and call of the Accursed.

Only Bahumut's timely intervention saved the Chosen's father from death that day before the Chosen had even come to be.

Ifrit was thankful to the Chosen for one reason – the Accursed didn't need Ifrit while he was waiting for the boy to be born and grow.

He was not free. Not truly. One call from the Accursed and he would be powerless to stop himself. But the absence of orders left him able to return to Shiva.

They were both damaged. He with the very Scourge he'd caused and she from her attempt to save him from the Imperial forces.

Something had to be done.

Shiva found their solutions. Hers was the girl. The latest Oracle. She was to be the one to aid the Chosen King.

"I will guide her."

"Then do so."

Human lifespans were a blink. But so much would happen within this one.

"The boy… he will need guidance as well."

"The Chosen? Then guide him as well, if you must, once he arrives." The Chosen had yet to be born, but the time would come soon.

He should have known what was coming. She didn't plead, but the look she gave him then told him she wanted something from him. Needed something from him.

"My love… I ask that you watch over the boy."

He didn't want to. Walking among the mortals and watching over one was the last thing he wanted to do. But this was his only chance at freedom – at mending his and his beloved's wounds. His only chance of resting once more.

"And if the Accursed takes issue with my guidance and uses me against the Chosen?"

"You must make certain he does not know."

—

It was insulting. Degrading.

While his beloved had managed to find a place at the Oracle's side in a form that was respectable, at least, Ifrit had no desire to have the people surrounding the Chosen thinking him a messenger – or worse, realizing who he truly was. He couldn't draw attention that the Accursed would notice.

No, none of them would know who he was. None of them would even know he wasn't one of their own.

It wasn't difficult to claim the role of the Chosen's Advisor. Humiliating to take such a form, yes, but that small, weak form had done the trick. None of the young mortal candidates could have hoped to be more clever than him. His overly keen mind and bespectacled childish face were even considered adorable by the mortals. It was a challenge not to incinerate every single one of them that bent over or crouched down to speak to him. Instead he just gave them courteous replies and inwardly laughed at his own private joke every time he had to introduce himself.

Ignis Scientia. Fire. Knowledge. What a laugh indeed. His true identity was right in front of them, and yet they were too dense to even suspect.

And then the day came. The day he was to meet the Chosen.

The way the boy looked at him was different. Shy. Innocent. His smile was one of a pure untainted joy as he grasped Ifrit's hand with both of his own. Ifrit finally understood what all the mortals felt when they looked at him in this form – the boy was adorable. And for the first time in a very long while… Ifrit wasn't irritated by a mortal's mere existence.

—

The Chosen was an annoying mortal that was only currently tolerable because he was too young to have developed all the traits that made humans so unbearable. Ifrit was going to tire of him very soon, but he was going to put up with it and guide the whelp into saving mankind, and, more importantly, taking down the Accursed so Ifrit would be free again.

That was what Ifrit repeated to himself as he watched the small Chosen totter around: it was only the matter of time before the boy was just like all the rest. He was currently manageable, yes, but that was all. Not as much of hindrance as anticipated, but Ifrit didn't actually care about the boy.

And it took until Noct was eight for that lie he'd been feeding himself to completely fall to pieces.

Because he wasn't just the Chosen or the boy – he was Noct. He had been Noct for some while, and it had taken the small mortal's near death at the hands of a daemon for that to truly click in the Infernian's mind.

Noct had taken a trip to catch some fireflies. Nothing Ifrit cared to witness. Hardly dangerous.

And it was his error – his dismissiveness – that resulted in him clinging to Noct's hand as his fragile little heart fought to keep beating while he lied unresponsive in the Citadel medical wing.

Never again, Ifrit vowed as he finally accepted that the tiny human had reawakened a love for humanity within him that he thought he'd lost. Never again would Noct face this sort of harm before his ascension.

He cared about one human, and that human would not fall before his time.

—

He cared about two humans.

It was startling to notice. Unlike with Noct, there was no life threatening event that triggered the realization.

It had been a day like any other in his slow human life. Meetings. Checking up on Noct. Training.

Training had been fun that day. Despite having to hold back his power, Ifrit enjoyed locking blades in fake combat. He always won, of course, but Gladio was a challenging opponent when Ifrit restricted himself to his human body's limitations and switched over to daggers or a lance instead of the sword he'd been wielding for uncounted millennia.

Gladio had asked him afterwards about a cake for his sister, and of course Ifrit had agreed. If there was one thing he loved about living as a mortal, it was the little hobby of cooking that he'd picked up.

And then Gladio had made a comment. A nothing comment. Just words in passing as he clapped Ifrit on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Iggy. Dunno what I'd do without you."

The clap struck a feeling of fondness within him, and he found himself replying with, "Nor I without you. Whoever else could I complain to about Noct not eating his vegetables?"

And that was it. As Gladio headed out the door and his laughter echoed around the room, Ifrit realized that he had every intention of protecting the King's Shield as much as the King.

More sentiment for the mortals. Disgusting. Shiva was never going to let him hear the end of him growing fond of mortals again.

Well, it was certainly not mortals in general, at least.

Only two.

—

And then there were three.

If Astrals were capable of getting whiplash, Ifrit would have had it.

Gladio had been another case of him tolerating a human before realizing he cared, but Prompto…

Quite frankly, Ifrit had wanted to set the boy aflame when Noct first introduced him. He was obnoxiously loud, hyperactive, and irritatingly keen on physical contact. Not to mention his relation to that wretched human that had freed the Accursed and coaxed him into revenge in the first place. Ifrit just had to grit his teeth and pretend to be civil, because he saw how Noct livened up whenever the blond was around.

How that had morphed into fondness was beyond him.

After a couple of months of being close to tripping the boy into traffic and hoping no one noticed, there had been an incident.

Humans were cruel. No wonder they hadn't had a problem betraying Ifrit when those who hadn't even reached adulthood were harming their own.

"Who the hell was it, Prompto? I swear – they'll be expelled by tomorrow morning!"

Noct's rage was almost as hot as Ifrit's own. One look at the black eye Prompto was sporting, and Noct, Gladio, and Ifrit all were ready to personally march to town to that school and see how much those bullies would like a more fair fight.

…Not that a few teenagers facing an Astral was really fair, but that didn't matter because Prompto refused to tell them anyway.

For the first time, Ifrit saw through the boy's fake smiles and laughter, he didn't ever want to see any of Prompto's smiles marred by purple on his face ever again.

Oh well… what was one more to his list of protected?

Three was a good number. Their group felt… complete.

—