*bows down low* may I offer you some Fleurentia in these trying times?
I wrote this for the 4th run of Zibe Time, a free, multifandom zine where everything is fair game (warnings are provided for each entry if applicable). You can download the most recent edition as well as the previous runs at .io/, completely for free. There's a whole bunch of different fandoms in each run, so it might be worth checking out in case anything turns out to be Your Jam.
This run's theme was Hot Mess Express and I just wanna say that the working title for this fic, right up until I submitted it and had to come up with a real title, was "Ravus is a cringefail loser" so that'll basically tell you all you need to know.
Please enjoy!
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."
Lunafreya answers the phone before it finishes ringing for the third time.
She sounds equal parts dazed and concerned, both of which are unsurprising given the hour at which he is calling. While daytime in Lucis, night has already fallen in Tenebrae and Lunafreya was surely already asleep.
It has also, since her resurrection by the goddess Shiva herself several months ago, been a recurring event for Ravus to call her in a state of panic, feeling a desperate need to hear her voice. Mere months are not enough to undo ten years of raw grief upon having lost her for what he assumed to be forever, and every now and then, his grip on reality slips enough that only her voice can soothe him.
"Ravus, what is wrong?" she asks when he doesn't speak for a long while, her gentle voice full of concern for him.
"Oh, Lunafreya, what a fool I've been," he sighs, feeling every bit like the lovesick protagonist from one of the many romantic poems he was forced to read as a child.
He recounts his conversation with Noctis, only leaving out the jest about Amicitia and Argentum – though he has no doubts that she will be hearing about that from Noctis himself in due time.
When he's done with his tale, he expects her to scold him for his foolishness and then comfort him with her usual kindness, but instead, peals of laughter sound through the speaker.
Betrayal, how dare she–
Ravus is tempted to end the call right then and there, but being laughed at twice on the same day after laying his heart bare – he may be a fool, he has committed a great many sins in his lifetime, but he doesn't think he deserves to be humiliated so.
"My dear, silly brother," she sighs fondly. "Whatever possessed you to ask Noctis for his advisor's hand? That tradition is outdated even in Tenebrae – any Lucian would think us decades behind in our values. I only wish you had called me before you went to Noctis, I would have talked you out of it."
Despite the scolding nature of her words, she's clearly amused. Ravus, even in his embarrassment, can't find it in him to feel properly irritated at her for it. He has, after all, made a fool of himself.
"I was… not aware the tradition was considered outdated," he confesses. No wonder Noctis was not at all receptive to his request.
"Perhaps you'd be more familiar with the more recent Tenebraen culture if you did not spend so much time in Lucis," she teases.
Ravus bristles. "Those trips are strictly diplomatic, just what are you implying?"
"Nothing at all," she assures him entirely too quickly. "Well, what is done is done. Now, you've only one thing left to do."
"I'm aware, thank you." Ravus allows himself a displeased noise – not a groan, mind you, but not terribly far from it. "I will… talk to him as soon as I am able to catch him alone."
On the other end of the line, Lunafreya giggles. The sound is beautiful and steals Ravus' breath for a moment, his heart clenching at the thought that it was almost lost forever. It won't do to dwell on these dark thoughts, however – not when she is alive and well and safe, awaiting his return to Tenebrae.
"I do hope you know that I expect an immediate report once you've spoken to him," she informs him.
In the solitude of his room, Ravus gives into the childish urge to roll his eyes even though she can't see him. "Goodbye, sister."
Despite what he told Lunafreya, he does not actually go to speak with Ignis right away. What he does instead is spend a frankly embarrassingly long time trying – and failing – to prepare a cup of coffee exactly the way Ignis likes it.
"How does one fail coffee three times? " Ravus mutters to himself as he pours the cup down the drain. He drank the first two himself, given that they were still decent cups of coffee, but a third cup wouldn't do his already strained nerves any good.
The fourth time is the charm, and Ravus quickly makes his way down to Ignis' office to deliver the coffee while it is still hot.
Carefully balancing the small tray on his prosthetic arm, he reaches for the door. Before he can fully comprehend what is happening, the door opens by itself and Ignis emerges from the office with hurried strides.
Ravus manages to dodge just enough that Ignis doesn't crash into his chest, but the sudden movement makes the tray teeter precariously before it succumbs to gravity and spills the cup's content down Ignis' dress shirt.
Both freeze, Ignis because he has just been attacked by a hot beverage, Ravus because he prays to all the gods that are left that the ground may just open up and swallow him whole.
"I'm sorry – that was careless of me!" he hurries to say when he realises that Ignis has no way of knowing just who poured coffee all over his front.
"Ravus? What-" Ignis asks, brows knitting together in confusion.
"I was going to pay you a visit, and I thought that you might appreciate a cup of coffee, but it seems that has backfired rather spectacularly," Ravus explains, feeling entirely lost. He stares at the large stain on Ignis' shirt and distantly wonders if the man keeps any spares in his office. He hopes so – Ignis was clearly in a hurry, and now he'll only be delayed further by Ravus' carelessness.
"Ah– that is very kind of you, and under normal circumstances very appreciated. However, you must excuse me – I have an urgent meeting in about ten minutes."
Ignis sounds genuinely regretful and doesn't seem too upset by the coffee shower, but Ravus still burns with embarrassment.
"In that case, I won't keep you any longer. I do apologise for delaying you further."
Ignis offers him a beautiful smile, and that is almost enough to soothe his anxiety.
"No need. I'll quickly get changed, and if you're amenable, we could have coffee together after my meeting? It's a nice day, we could have it in the gardens."
"Very well," Ravus manages, and most certainly does not turn on his heel and flee the premises as soon as he deems it acceptable.
It occurs to Ravus that he never did ask Ignis when his meeting is over, so he catches Ignis' assistant in her office and learns that he has a little under two hours left to calm his nerves and gather his thoughts.
He decides against bringing the coffee this time, unwilling to risk yet another disaster. Instead, he retreats to his room and spends twenty minutes trying to comb his hair the way Lunafreya sometimes does for him until he remembers that it does not matter what he looks like in Ignis' presence because the man cannot see him anyway.
In a flash of frustration, he hurls the comb all the way across the room.
"Someone who acts like a child should not even be attempting to court someone," he mutters as he goes to retrieve it, disgusted with himself and his immature behaviour.
If it weren't for both Lunafreya and Noctis now being aware of his intentions towards Ignis, he would give up on the issue altogether – simply resign himself to a life of unrequited pining, forever wondering what could have been. But alas, he just had to go and announce his desires to the world, and now he cannot possibly back out without ridiculing himself even further in the process.
"You've got yourself into a right mess," he tells his reflection. Mismatched eyes stare back at him – at this point, it feels as though his own reflection is mocking him.
Convinced that he may just end up losing his mind if he dwells on the issue any longer, he gets out his documents and starts working. Contrary to what Lunafreya implied on the phone, he is still here on a diplomatic visit, and busying himself with his work will at least keep his thoughts occupied until it is time to meet Ignis.
Ravus successfully loses himself in his work and is almost startled when his phone chimes with a new message. It's from Ignis, informing him that the meeting has ended.
He sends a short reply – a promise to meet him by his office so they may go to the gardens together – and is on his way, heart fluttering with the same anxiety that has plagued him all day.
Ignis is waiting for him when he arrives, smiling brightly upon hearing his name from Ravus' lips.
"Shall we head to the gardens, then?"
"Let's," Ravus agrees, falling into step beside Ignis. He holds out his arm, and Ignis easily slips his hand into the crook of Ravus' elbow.
Ignis, at times, makes it very easy to forget that he is blind. He moves with more grace than the majority of people with working eyes and he requires far less aid than one might expect. Although it looks near effortless, Ignis has once admitted to him that it takes a great deal of focus and effort and can get rather exhausting. And so, when in the presence of those he trusts, he will often let his guard down and allow them to guide him instead.
Ravus is lucky enough to count himself among the few Ignis trusts enough to slip his hand on their arm and let them guide him safely, and today is no exception.
On a normal day, that wouldn't pose an issue at all. It is, after all, an arrangement that has become most familiar in the past ten years.
But today, Ravus' thoughts are running wild and his focus lies entirely elsewhere, and so it doesn't occur to him at all to warn Ignis of the stairs ahead until they are both tumbling down the steps.
The impact of his torso on the edge of a step knocks the air out of him and his vision blurs dangerously. He comes to lie at the bottom of the stairs, breath hitching as sharp pain lances through his chest upon drawing in air.
Then, his brain catches up with him and he scrambles to sit up.
"Ignis!"
Ignis groans but pushes himself up into a sitting position. He doesn't appear to be in much pain and Ravus doesn't see any injuries on him, thank the Astrals. "Alright, I think. What about you?"
Carefully, Ravus breathes in, wincing when there is once again pain in his ribcage. He gingerly runs his hand across his chest and hisses – there is one spot that is too tender to be anything but an injury.
"I believe I may have fractured a rib," he admits, grimacing as he straightens himself out.
Ignis' eyebrows rise in alarm. "You need to get that looked at. Can you make it to the medical wing, or should I call for someone?"
"No, wait, I– I must discuss something with you, first," Ravus exclaims without thinking. "Please. It is important."
"More important than getting your broken rib looked at?" Ignis asks, brows furrowing.
"Yes. Considering how today has gone thus far, I fear if I don't tell you now, I will never tell you."
Never mind that he has just thrown the man he plans to confess his feelings to down a flight of stairs. Never mind that he has, prior to throwing him down the stairs, completely ruined his shirt with hot coffee. And never mind that he has utterly embarrassed himself in front of the man's brother in everything but blood and in front of his own sister.
If he had ever had even the slightest chance with Ignis, he's certainly lost it now, but he knows he would never forgive himself if he did not at least try. And while he's not certain that he could embarrass himself further than he already has, he's not willing to test his luck. At this point, the best he can do is simply get it over with so that he may return to his room and lick his wounds.
"Ignis… You were once my ally, fighting by my side when no one else would. It was an arrangement of convenience then, but the next time we met, you offered me friendship. Despite the many sins I have committed, you showed me kindness and understanding, you helped me through my grief and helped me find a purpose once more."
Ravus stops for a moment, catching his breath. He cannot bear to look at Ignis, who is listening to his words without a sound, cannot bring himself to watch his expression change as he works out what Ravus is trying to say – from confusion to… disgust, perhaps? No, not disgust, Ignis is not cruel enough for that.
His chest twinges, from his broken rib or from deeper within, he cannot tell.
"Over the past ten years, you have become a very dear friend to me, and I would not want to lose your friendship for anything. Yet, I must tell you, or I will never know peace – my fondness for you is no longer exclusively that of a friend but rather of a deeper, more intimate nature."
Ravus falls silent, praying to whatever god is still willing to listen to him that Ignis may grant him a swift and painless rejection.
"Ravus…" Ignis says softly. Ravus cannot see his expression – his eyes remain cowardly trained on the ground beneath him. "Are you… confessing to me?"
Ravus chuckles helplessly. It makes his ribs ache, but he cannot help it. He feels terribly out of his depth, and he's becoming more and more aware of how silly he must look, sitting at the bottom of the stairs unable to look the man he's trying to court in the eyes.
"I suppose I am… although I fear I am not doing it terribly well."
It's such a long time before Ignis says something – or perhaps it isn't, though it certainly feels agonisingly long – that Ravus is close to simply telling him to forget about it.
"May I ask how long you have felt this way?" Ignis finally asks.
It is not at all what Ravus expected, and it leaves him speechless for a minute.
"I cannot tell for sure," he says carefully. "If you wish to know when my affection for you stopped being purely platonic, I don't have an answer for you, for the lines have been rather blurry for the past few years."
"Years," Ignis repeats. It comes out unexpectedly strangled, and finally, Ravus looks up to regard him with concern.
Before Ravus can work out what he means, Ignis' unseeing gaze meets his with startling accuracy.
"Ravus," he says. His tone betrays nothing, and Ravus braces himself for the inevitable blow.
"Yes?"
"May I kiss you?"
For the second time today, Ravus feels the air being knocked out of him.
"You needn't ask," he promises. It comes out breathless and he feels somewhat light-headed all of a sudden, but he pushes himself up on his knees and meets Ignis halfway.
Ignis' warm, slender hand – gloveless most of the time, ever since he surrendered his eyesight to that blasted ring – meets his cheek, thumb sliding forward until it brushes against his lips.
Closing the distance between them, Ravus captures Ignis' lips with his own, and the first thing he notices is how soft they are.
Ravus does not have too much experience with intimacy – that is to say, next to none, apart from an innocent kiss with a serving boy, so long ago that it may have very well been in another life – but somehow, he cannot bring himself to worry about this.
Ignis would not mock him for it. Kind, selfless Ignis, who has always been more patient with him than Ravus ever allows himself to be. Why would this be any different?
Their kiss lasts an eternity and barely a fraction of a second all at once, and when they break apart, Ravus immediately reaches for Ignis' hand, carefully holding it in his own. His finger brushes over the scar on Ignis' middle finger, left by the ring that has burnt them both.
Does this mean that you return my feelings, he wants to ask, and, please kiss me again, but he finds himself at an utter lack of words.
"I must say," Ignis begins softly, turning his hand in Ravus' grasp and interlacing their fingers. "This is a… most unexpected development. A very pleasant one, but unexpected nonetheless. For years – why didn't you ever say anything? We could have had this the entire time."
For once, Ravus is glad that Ignis cannot see him. He imagines the flush on his cheeks to be rather unsightly.
"I was waiting for the right time." A pause, then he admits, "And perhaps, partly due to my own cowardice. I could not imagine that you might return my feelings. Besides, you never said anything, either."
"Ah." Ignis chuckles, somewhat sheepishly. "To be honest, I had assumed I was rather obvious – obvious enough for Gladio and Prompto to make fun of me, at any rate."
The confession leaves Ravus stunned.
"You will have to be frank with me, going forward," he warns, a little startled at the vulnerability he's willing to let show. "I'm afraid I am rather… slow, when it comes to matters like these."
Ignis lifts their joined hands to his face and leaves the ghost of a kiss across Ravus' knuckles. He's smiling, open and unguarded, and the mere sight of it leaves Ravus' heart soaring.
"I'll keep that in mind. We'll simply have to make up for the lost time then. But, I have to wonder, what made you decide that now was the right time?"
"Ah…" Ravus feels his face warm once more. Astrals, is that going to be a common occurrence now? "Forgive me, but it's a rather embarrassing story, and I feel like I've embarrassed myself enough for one day. I will tell you eventually, but not today."
Heavens forbid he is forced to recount the story of how he waited for Noctis to return, only for Noctis to dismiss him outright. No, that is a tale better told another day.
"Very well, I won't push," Ignis concedes. He lets go of Ravus' hand and goes to stand. "Now, we do still have to find a medic for you. Can you stand?"
Ah, right, his fractured rib. As if to remind him, his traitorous body sends another stab of pain through his torso as he moves to grab Ignis' outstretched hand and lets himself be hauled to his feet.
"I'll manage," he says and offers Ignis his arm once more. "Though I'd rather take the lift this time. I, for one, have had enough stairs for today."
Ignis laughs, curling gentle fingers around Ravus' arm. "I'm inclined to agree. Lead the way then."
Remember, you can download this zine for FREE :D This fic was written for Vol 4, but I have also written a fic for the 1st volume (themed Dinner Date, also a Fleurentia fic titled Granola Bars and Berry Tarts) and for the 3rd volume (themed Pride Time, an Ignis-centric fic that is very dear to my heart, titled What we are is but a choice).
You can also follow my Tumblr at thisfairytalegonebad.
That's it, I sincerely hope you enjoyed and I had a BLAST writing this ship again! I didn't think I'd ever write a fic completely from Ravus' point of view, I used to have quite a bit of trouble writing him, but now I feel like I've finally gotten the hang of it :)