#fleurentia

Ravus strides down the hallway towards the throne room with purpose. By now, he is familiar enough with the building that he no longer requires an escort. And besides, today, he is here not on a diplomatic mission but a personal one.

If Noctis is surprised to see him, it doesn’t show on his face, though his eyes glint with curiosity when Ravus comes to stand in front of him. Amicitia stands guard at his side, watching him with a similar sort of interest.

Their eyes on him do nothing to ease the tension in Ravus’ shoulders.

He’s loath to admit it, but he has been plagued by nerves all morning. Around the young king, he feels out of his depth, not yet freed from the guilt over all the grief he’s caused the man nor familiar enough with him to be at ease in his presence.

“Your Majesty,” he starts, and immediately corrects himself, choosing the more appropriate way of address for the matter at hand. “Noctis.”

The King’s eyebrows rise. “Ravus.”

Ravus straightens himself and looks Noctis in the eyes, determined to see this through the proper way.

“Noctis,” he repeats. “I stand before you today not as a Son of Tenebrae, not as a delegate of the Queen, but as a man who wishes to discuss a personal matter with you.”

Noctis nods. “Of course. Alone?”

“Please.”

Noctis signals to Amicitia, who nods in return and vanishes quietly. 

Ravus does not miss the way he looks at him as he passes. He has no doubts that his audience will later be discussed at length with the King’s most trusted.

Well, let them discuss. If he were ashamed, he would not be standing here right now.

“During the past ten years, I have had the fortune of forging a great many bonds with people from your kingdom, bonds I value greatly,” he starts. 

The words, rehearsed as they are, come to him easily and sincerely. They are, after all, nothing but the truth.

The next part is no less true, but it takes considerably more effort.

“However, there is no one I value quite as dearly as your advisor, Ignis Scientia. He has become a precious friend to me. One to lean on in times of need and one I will gladly do the same for, shall he require it.”

Noctis watches him with startling intensity, his face betraying nothing. 

The image of a quiet, round-cheeked child in a too-large wheelchair springs to Ravus’ mind. For years, that image has haunted his memory, convinced that his sister was dying for this small, powerless child and it would all be for naught. 

Looking at Noctis now, the thoughts he used to have fill him with shame and it takes everything to hold the King’s gaze.

“In Tenebrae, it is tradition for a man to stand before the mother of the one whose hand he chooses and ask her permission. But given that Ignis has no family left, I stand before you instead, Noctis, who are as close as a brother to him.”

Once, during a starlit night in the safety of a haven, Ignis told him of the uncle who had raised him, dearly beloved and long gone. He did not mention his parents at all, and that told Ravus all he needed to know. It was then that he had resolved to wait however long it took Noctis to emerge from the Crystal, the person who came closest to being family to Ignis.

Noctis stands, slowly descending the stairs. His golden knee brace clicks softly with every step until he comes to stand in front of Ravus.

The sudden proximity, while well-intended – Ravus has made it clear that he’s here on personal business, and Noctis is respecting his wish by speaking to him at eye level – only serves to make him more anxious.

“So you’re… what, asking me for Ignis’ hand?” Noctis asks. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Not in marriage!” Ravus hurries to clarify, then backtracks when the implication of his words registers – Ignis, a mere affair, not worthy of marriage – and adds, “Not yet, that is, perhaps never unless he wishes to– I simply– for the moment, I only wish to court him.”

A few agonising seconds tick by, and then Noctis says sternly, “Well, then you should ask Prompto and Gladio too. They’re as much his brothers as I am.”

Only years and years of practice prevent Ravus’ expression from crumbling. 

Of course – Amicitia and Argentum are as close to Ignis as anyone could be, yet it hasn’t even occurred to him that they, too should be asked.

Argentum, he imagines, would be easier. It is in no small part thanks to Argentum that Ravus wears a new, scourge-free prosthetic arm, and he gets along decently with the man. Certainly, he could be reasoned with.

Amicitia, however. 

He and Ravus have long since buried the hatchet and are on fairly amicable terms these days, but their interactions, with very few exceptions, have been strictly business. And Ravus has once visited Lestallum with particularly ill timing, arriving just in time to bear witness to Amicitia questioning an unsuspecting young woman on her intentions with his sister. That is, until said sister struck him up the head and told him in no uncertain terms to stay out of her love life.

His face must give something away despite his best efforts, for Noctis’ serious expression breaks and he – laughs.

Ravus searches for words but comes up empty. Perhaps he has not quite thought this through, but to laugh at him feels needlessly cruel – perhaps he has misjudged the King after all.

“Sorry, sorry,” Noctis wheezes, struggling to contain his laughter. When he speaks again, a playful smile remains on his lips. “That was a joke, sorry, that was mean. It’s just, you don’t need my permission to date Ignis, you know. That’s his decision and his alone. If he wants to be with you, he should.”

“I have not… asked him yet,” Ravus admits. There are other things he would like to say, none of which being appropriate to say to the leader of a country with which one is maintaining diplomatic relationships. “He does not know I have an… interest in him.”

“Oh,” Noctis says. He looks mere seconds away from laughing at him again. “Okay. Start with that, then. Tell Ignis first, and then you can figure everything else out together.”

It sounds embarrassingly simple when put that way. It is anything but, of course, but when laid out like this, it does not seem like a task quite as daunting as Ravus has envisioned it to be. It sounds like Noctis believes there is a chance that Ignis will not outright reject him, which is more than he hoped for when the King started laughing.  

Ravus nods and bows stiffly. “I will. Thank you for your time.”

He’s halfway to the door when Noctis calls his name. Caught by surprise, he turns to face the King once again.

“I didn’t mean to dismiss Tenebrae’s traditions like that or make fun of you. You don’t need my permission to date Ignis, or anyone else’s except his, but you do have my blessing. All I ever wanted for him was to be happy, and I think you two would be good for each other.”

Startled by the sudden sincerity in Noctis’ voice, Ravus’ words fail him once more. Noctis has seen right through him, has seen how much his approval means to Ravus, and has given it freely and without hesitation.

“Thank you, Noctis,” he answers finally. “Your blessing means more to me than I can say.”

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