They arrived in Insomnia in what could loosely be considered morning. Ravus had never seen it before, but distant memories almost made him believe that he had. Memories of a chill spring day sitting in the fog of green Tenebrae with a little girl who was sick for home. She tried to tell him she wasn't—as if she thought being homesick would make her less grown-up—but in the next breath she described the Crown City in such detail and splendor that he might have been standing in Insomnia instead of Tenebrae.
He had scarcely thought of those days in the past twelve years. They were from another life. A happy life, when he had a mother and a home. Now when he thought back to those few weeks, all he remembered was King Regis, the coward of the Caelums, and his Chosen son.
But, standing before the towering stone gates and looking up at the glow of the Wall above, it all came back.
He wanted to look on the city and feel disgusted. He wanted to believe it couldn't hold a candle to Tenebrae. And he might have, if not for that little girl. But when they caught sight of the Citadel, rising up in the center of the city with a great beam of light shooting from its midst, he saw the beauty she had described.
Would she be here?
Ravus shook his head. It didn't matter, anyway. Insomnia would fall tomorrow night. King Regis would die. And Ravus would have his ring—the artifact of the Gods finally within the hands that could change the world. If they left it to Prince Noctis then all of Eos was doomed.
They were presented before the court and greeted by the king himself. Ravus had to fight not to spit at his feet. That would have been base. He contented himself instead with a scowl that left no space for guessing what he thought of the Lucian king. The coward king.
The Caelums were a blight. It was a mistake to leave the ring and the crystal in their hands. Except—
Well. She wasn't present, anyway.
The Lucians hosted a lavish dinner on top of their tallest resort, complete with fireworks and caviar. Fools. Did they actually believe this was peace?
It was nearly a complete waste of time. But—just late enough to be called late and just early enough to miss nothing important—she arrived.
He only knew it was her because everyone stood and a murmur of 'Your Highness' swept through the crowd as she passed through with her twin. Without the context clues he never would have guessed that she was the same little girl he had known in Tenebrae.
Twelve years ago, she had been a peculiar child—cute, perhaps, but extraordinary only in that she spoke and acted as if she were ten years older. Or she had tried and frequently succeeded.
Now she was the woman she had always been pretending to be.
She was elegant. She was graceful. She was composed. She was beautiful. And she was in charge from the instant the lift doors opened.
Ravus nearly forgot to be disgusted by her choice of companion.
But Noctis was inescapable in his own right—for all the opposite reasons. How could someone so clumsy and incompetent be the Chosen King? Quite simply: he couldn't.
Neither of them addressed Ravus; Noctis glared in his direction while Ravus stared back and Reina inclined her head politely. He wasn't going to bow; he had no allegiance to the Lucians, but anything less was inappropriate for a woman of her standing. By the time he had decided to return the gesture—nothing more or less than she had given—she wasn't even looking at him, anymore.
Fool, Ravus. He hadn't thought of her in twelve years; why should she have thought of him? They were standing on opposite sides of a chasm and no one was planning on building any bridges. But he thought of that little girl and he almost looked for the rope.
He spent dinner watching her, trying to see the girl behind the woman.
Her nose was unchanged. Her hair as well. But the same could have been said of her brother—sitting with Luna, conversing with her, as if—ugh.
He turned his eyes back to the princess. And he found the most piercing eyes staring back at him. She caught his gaze across the floor and held it like a physical grasp he couldn't break.
And he realized.
She was still ten years older than she was supposed to be.
The woman who looked out at him wasn't a little princess who had spent her life walled up safe in her tower. She was a woman who had lost everything she had ever loved and, in spite of that, had clawed her way back to her feet and continued walking. He knew that look because it was the same one he saw in the mirror.
She smiled. An enigmatic smile, impossible to decipher—was she pleased to see him again, or was that the self-assurance of a ruler preparing to crush her enemies?
And then she looked away. The spell broke and Ravus was freed. He took a breath and drained his champagne more quickly than was proper. Though he turned back to pick at his meal, he continued to cast glances in her direction, throughout. She made polite conversation like a diplomat and a politician. She issued commands to her bodyguard like a general. She leaned closer to her father like a daughter and an attendant.
And she took Ardyn Izunia's hand, smiling and speaking and laughing with him.
Ravus rose and followed—as did everyone else—when they descended to the dance floor. Izunia was a man with his own agenda. If the emperor wanted to believe his smiles and honeyed words, that was his business, but Ravus wouldn't have trusted Izunia at his back.
He also didn't trust Izunia with Reina.
Lunafreya returned to his side. Evidently, her dinner partner had abandoned her to have a hurried conference with his father. Ravus stepped forward so that, even though they were on the opposite side of the stairs from the Lucian royals, he stood in between her and them. He meant to protect her even if she didn't recognize the charlatans standing before her.
"I gather that she has grown into a capable woman," Luna said after a moment.
"Have you a point?" Ravus asked.
"If you had misgivings about her choice of company…" She left the sentence unfinished.
"I do not fear for her safety," Ravus snapped.
It had been a lie when he began speaking. In the two seconds it took to complete the sentence, he believed it. He had seen what was behind her eyes. Perhaps Izunia was a loaded firearm with no safety but Ravus couldn't believe that the woman he had seen would ever take a man like the chancellor at face value.
In spite of that surety, it was uncomfortable watching them dance. Something gnawed at his stomach, angry and itching.
When they began the second dance, he knew what it was.
And it was equally, if not more, ridiculous than believing she might fall prey to Izunia's machinations.
He was here to watch Lucis fall and take the ring for himself. He was not here to dance with princesses and reforge lost connections from a decade ago.
It didn't occur to him that he could have walked away until the second dance was through and Izunia had brought her back up the stairs. By then it was over, anyway. He would put it aside and desist with such pointless thoughts.
He had all but turned away when her voice caught him.
"Commander—"
And held him. Her hand extended.
"Would you dance with me?"
Reina Lucis Caelum. The only Caelum he couldn't condemn, because in those few weeks she had been as near to him as his own little sister. And, though none would listen, she had tried to save Tenebrae. Even Ravus, young fool that he had been, believed the same thing everyone else had.
They were merely nightmares.
Nightmares of Tenebrae burning and faceless men falling from the sky. Nightmares of Ravus dragging her from the path of gunfire. Nightmares of his mother—
She was still holding her hand out to him.
He took it.
It wasn't until they were on the dance floor that he remembered he hadn't danced in twelve years, either. And yet, there he was, standing in the middle of the Crown City with all the diplomats in Lucis and Niflheim staring at him and, arguably, the most desirable dance partner in the entire capital.
Ravus set his jaw. He remembered where his hands went, at least. The rest was trivial. Of everything he had done since the last time they had met, this was undoubtedly the most insignificant hurdle. It was just a ridiculous dance.
What was he doing, anyway? He had more important things to worry about than—
Ugh.
Reina was as tiny as she had been twelve years ago. But with his hand on her back he could feel muscle flex beneath his palm. Hers was the grace of a duelist, not a dancer.
That didn't mean she couldn't have danced circles around him.
The song began, but Ravus hesitated on the first step. Reina stepped instead, hand tightening on his arm to lead him along. That was his job, Gods damn—
But any sharp words he had for her died on his tongue. She lead him for two turns until he had his bearings and fell into half-forgotten steps. From her face, it was impossible to tell whether or not she had even done it on purpose. But she had. She wasn't the sort of woman who took control on accident. Perhaps she did it naturally, but she would do it intentionally as well.
Once Ravus knew where he was putting his feet—and only then—she spoke.
"Ravus," she said, "It has been some time."
The statement said more than her words. The last time he had seen her, King Regis had been dragging her away. She had looked back when Ravus had called out for help.
Her father hadn't.
"I wish the situation allowed for a reunion, but I fear that is simply not the world that either of us live in. This is the closest I can grant you to a private conversation."
Here, in the middle of the dance floor, with three dozen people watching them. This was her private conversation. Then again, he hadn't heard a word of what she had spoken to Izunia.
"Perhaps another time," she said. As if there would be another time.
Ravus hissed, more annoyed with himself than with her. "I have no need of your polite conversation, Princess. I am here for one reason and one reason only."
Far from being offended or put off, she smiled. Not an amused smile: a regretful one.
"Indeed," She said. "You desire the Ring of the Lucii."
How could she know he wanted the ring?
"I know you would have no difficulty killing my father—at least in theory, if not in practice—for the price of the ring. Do you have the same lack of inhibitions where my life is concerned?"
He stared down at her, incredulous. Then his eyebrows snapped together and he looked away—anywhere else was better than her, if she was going to keep staring at him with those eyes like she could see straight into his mind.
"I would rather not fight you for it," she said. "You would lose; I would prefer not to watch you die for a second time. It was bad enough the first."
At first he thought she was talking about Tenebrae, but no. The look on her face said she had watched him die in the most literal sense. If anyone else had said it, he would have called them mad. But the last time they had dismissed her as fanciful, his mother had died and his home had burned.
"What did you Dream?" He dropped his voice; maybe no one could hear them from the dance floor, but he preferred not to tempt fate.
"I Dreamed everything from now until ten years from now. Would you like to know what happens if everything you have planned comes to fruition?"
Her voice said he wouldn't. But he did, anyway.
"My father will die. General Glauca will cut the ring from his hand and later run him through. It will come to you; you would be waiting for it, of course, but you would have no objections to Father dying, either. You'll put it on. The Lucii will be merciful to you. They will only turn your arm into ash instead of your entire body. They do not grant their power to those who would take it for themselves." She said all of it in a level, neutral tone, as if they were discussing the appetizers and wine. But she wasn't through.
"Over the next two months you will watch your sister drain away her life force, summoning Astral after Astral to form the covenants that will give Noctis the power he needs in the fight to come. It will eat you up inside, but no matter how you plead she will never stop. It will be only a matter of time before the Astrals take all of her—but she'll never makes it that far. Ardyn will stab her after she forms the last covenant with the Hydraean. You will nearly kill Noctis for that, but Ignis will be on hand to stop you. So you'll withdraw to Niflheim to confront Ardyn while you question everything you have ever believed about this world. In the end, nothing you will do really matters. He will kill you, too, and give you over to the Starscourge. You will die twice. The second time you'll beg us for it. And I'll wish once more that I could have done better by you."
The song had stopped. They had stopped moving and were standing in the middle of the floor while their small audience gave a lukewarm applause, but Ravus didn't even remember dancing.
He wanted to believe she was lying. She was lying. She only wanted him not to kill her father—she still wouldn't admit how much he deserved it.
But if they had believed her in Tenebrae…
"What must I do?" He asked.
"Ask me to dance."
What?
He blinked, and glanced around the landing. There was no where he could talk to her but this dance floor. And if they stood here too long in hushed conversation with the emperor and everyone else watching…
"Will you honor me with one more dance, Your Highness?" He forced the questions out.
"I would be delighted, Commander."
The lull in their conversation stretched on longer than was comfortable as the next song began and they fell back to automatic motions. Ravus watched her intently throughout.
"Well?" He asked.
"Stand with me instead of against me," she said.
Ravus fought back a snarl. "I will not work beneath that sad excuse for a king, whom you call Father."
"Forget about my father. I hold the power. Regardless of who sits on the throne, right now, I rule Lucis."
That was not the little girl he remembered. The one who sat quietly at dinner and stared at her plate, except when she shot her beloved father hopeful looks across the table. The one who stood in the hall holding her stuffed chocobo and pretending not to cry when she watched her father walk away. The one who always wanted to talk about her father when he wasn't around and went starry-eyed when he was.
Ravus considered her in silence for a long moment.
"It seems we have both been remade by these twelve years," he said at last.
"Twenty-two. And just the past ten have made a lasting impression on me."
Yes. She was older than she was meant to be.
"And if I stand with you?" He asked.
"Then I will save Luna's life. And yours…" She smiled and again it was completely devoid of amusement. "But that doesn't matter to you, does it?"
"No." Only Luna's.
"No." She wasn't just agreeing to his declaration of motivation. She was agreeing with the motivation itself.
She had lost everything, too. Now she was holding onto it with both hands and would give anything to protect it.
"For Lunafreya's safety." Ravus spoke, hardly moving his lips. "I will swear my life and everything I am to you."
He had made worse bargains for her. Like selling his soul to Niflheim. Something told him Reina wasn't interested in his soul.
Then again. She had changed.
"That will do," she said.
They danced without words for the remainder of the song while Ravus cemented his resolution to betray the empire. It hardly mattered. They had never owned his loyalty. But Reina… Well, perhaps she could.
It wasn't until the final turn and dip that he remembered.
"Reina—" He pulled her closer, leaning lower under pretense of drawing out the finish. "General Glauca—"
"Yes." She only smiled that little enigmatic smile again when he put her back on her feet. "I know."
She tucked her hand around his arm. It took a full second before he realized what he was meant to do and moved his feet again. Eyes followed where they walked, as did the lukewarm applause. When they reached the top of the stairs, her hold loosened on his arm.
"Thank you for the dances, Commander—it is so lovely to see you again, after all these years." Her hand slipped down his arm and she caught his hand, squeezing it once when she met his gaze. "Perhaps when this is all over, we can catch up properly."
And, in spite of the perfect political dance she was performing, he believed that she wanted to.