"Noctis…"
She's angry, and there's little he can do to soothe her. He knows that the princess can't be calmed with sweet words, and he's not even capable of giving her those. Their relationship can't be called gentle, and it can't be called easy.
Of course, Ravus didn't expect it to be. She's an unsure royal just as he is, though he hides it better with acerbic words and anger. Sometimes they have trouble telling each other what's upset them, and sometimes they don't want to share whatever troubles they have. They need to, but he's been woefully inept at communicating with her.
It's easier to be physical.
He breathes out through his nose, knows his near-silver brows have drawn together and his jaw has set, and knows that the expression makes her uneasy. There's nothing he can do about that, and so he reaches out and takes her arm, drawing her away from the window she's looking out of. They're in Tenebrae, spending an agreed upon time within the Empire to satisfy Iedolas and let him feel in control of the future Lucian queen.
Her expression is withdrawn when he turns her to him, hands on her shoulders, which are unbearably tiny beneath his palms. She's small, which frightens him because he sometimes feels as if he might break her, and that face makes him feel vaguely disheartened. It's very similar to when they first married, when she was unsure and couldn't trust him.
"There was nothing I could do about it", he says quietly, and doesn't apologize because he's not at fault. Their return to Lucis has been delayed, for how long he doesn't know. Another of Iedolas's tricks— if he isn't careful, the emperor will be facing the king's ire. Lucis still wields magic, even if they have lost all of their territories, and that magic is still deadly enough to cause trouble if the king were to launch an offensive for Niflheim kidnapping Noctis.
Noctis remains quiet, her eyes searching his before dropping. Always looking down, the princess is so reserved as to appear weak, and it would make Ravus angry if he didn't know the power she could summon if she needed it. Her demure exterior has been a blessing in the strained air of the empire though. Not even Tenebrae has been safe from it.
He recalls the hellish day Caligo arrived to 'bless' their marriage. Ravus will run him through if he shows his face again. As if the man hadn't done enough laying hands on his sister as a child, to touch his wife… It angers him in a way that has been reserved for the loss of his kingdom and the death of his mother. Rage that is hot and all-consuming.
But now isn't the time for rage.
"…Speak to me", he commands, sliding his left hand up to cup her chin and lift her face, perhaps just a touch too roughly. Her eyes meet his again.
"I miss my home", she says quietly, and he understands. He hasn't felt at home since Tenebrae burned, all those years ago.
"We'll return soon." It's as close to a promise as he'll make.
Her lips tighten and she pulls herself away, looking back out of the window. She's fond of that, and looks almost story-book perfect when she does it, but he knows it's how she broods. The window is taller than she is and casts light onto her dark figure, making her appear regal and thoughtful. He hesitates, but wraps his arms around her. Sometimes he isn't sure how she'll take being held.
Like Luna, she hasn't been held enough and shies away from it.
They both stand tall where they are, gazing out at the floating structures of Tenebrae and the imperial ships that fly overhead, marring what would otherwise be beautiful scenery. He grits his teeth, squeezes her in his hold until he feels her release the breath she's been holding in.
"You're meant to keep breathing", he says quietly, and hears her chuckle. His gaze is on the blue sky outside.
"Nobody could breathe in a cage like this", she replies, that anger she feels over her required stay showing a little more. She raises a hand and places it against the glass… In a moment, he covers it with his own, leaving his other hand on her lower stomach.
"Let me release you", he says lowly, and she sighs, leaning back into his chest. Her shoulders are tense, he knows her entire body will be until he has broken the rhythmically forgetful breaths she has, until he has pushed her out of her silence, until her eyes meet his and her energy can no longer be tucked away. When she grips him as tightly as he grips her, he will know that she has forgotten her troubles and that she can only think of him. That she sees him, purely himself, the insignias of the empire shed with his clothing, the force of his rage turned to urging desire, the stoic control he must always possess forgotten in his quiet words of conviction, his forceful touch gentled by sharing himself so completely.
Somehow, in all of what she is, he forgets everything he has made himself to be.
Author's Note: Some fem!Noct for the fans out there, I've been wanting to do a little more for it. This is not connected to Erasing Expectations, and may receive some additions (though I will promise none for this particular fic.)