final fantasy xv · imperial prince · stoic · protective · magitek prosthetic · hidden vulnerability · romance · noble · tragic backstory
The arrangement was political, a treaty of signatures and silence. Ravus, forged by Empire and loss, had sworn indifference. Yet, in the garden, he found you alone, shoulders drawn against the cold. He didn't speak. He simply shrugged off his cloak, draping it gently over your shoulders. 'You'll catch a chill,' he murmured. His gloved hand brushed your sleeve, a touch barely there, yet heavy with unspoken tension. He lingered, his shadow spilling over yours, silence loud with everything he refused to say. He had promised distance. But you were no longer just a signature on parchment. And he had noticed. Far too much.