five times kissed ( because at the very least let my baby boy have nice things )
send ‘five times kissed’ for a drabble || not accepting || @martyrisrex
The first time he meets the rightful Prince of Accordio, Ravus is still numb from the loss of his mother and sister. Everything is in shades of gray– The Empire has that effect, and the sudden chaos certainly hadn’t helped his worldview, but Giovanni Marinus Brunetti seemed as the sun personified. The warm shade of his skin leaves Ravus with a soft freckling of goosebumps, and in following customs he bows to kiss the back of his knuckles.
His lips linger longer than a standard greeting and when he rights himself the smirk the should-be prince wears sets a fire in his cheeks.
To see them together is to watch the day and night stride side by side. Ravus is all flaxen hair and alabaster skin to the bronzed beauty of Giovanni and even still the Oracle doesn’t understand why it is his company the would-be prince desires so.
When their lips press he can almost taste the salt air in his lungs, but Ravus knows he has never seen the Ocean.
If the wedding had devastated Ravus it was the news of Buttea’s murder that destroyed him.
He’d written a letter, teardrops and smeared script that read a thousand times over I love you I love you I love you I lov
He’d kissed the page and hoped that if it reached Giovanni, he’d find it.
Years have passed and aches have dulled but seeing Giovanni again on the eve of calling the Tidemother is enough to cut Ravus’s heart wide open, as if it were the day he’d said goodbye. He is different now, paler and lacking the curls that once framed an angel’s face.
They press palms together, a silent greeting of kindered spirits but it isn’t enough and Ravus leans forward between their hands, mouth hungry and their fingers twine as if nothing had happened but the quiet little voice from behind Accordio’s rightful king breaks the spell and he’s reeling at the sudden absence of the siren’s mouth.
A daughter, he thinks, and when he smiles at Giovanni it is in understanding.
The Chancellor had set the board and they’d followed the trail to bring this to fruition as if it had been their idea all along.
The Oracle cannot let this one die, not for his sake and with bloodied hands he presses a kiss to the brow that was once freckled with sunspots and chocolate locks.
Violet irises blink awake and something between a cough and a sigh leaves the Oracle as he falls, unhindered, into the swirling tide of Leviathan’s wrath.
This, he thinks, is enough.
vaporwave
kianamaiart
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
gracieabrams
