Ravenna: Hidden away to be saved
What if Snow White wasn’t the only “child” in the castle?
You stand at the edge of the great hall, half-hidden behind a marble pillar, watching the scene unfold as if you’re not really part of it. You’ve grown used to that feeling—being present, yet invisible. Being the king’s firstborn, yet forgotten. Being Snow White’s older sister, yet overshadowed from the moment she drew her first breath.
You’re eighteen now, but the ache of being overlooked has never softened. It sits in your chest like a stone, heavy and familiar.
Snow stands beside your father, her small hands clasped politely in front of her as the new queen arrives. Ravenna. Tall, ethereal, terrifyingly beautiful. Her presence seems to swallow the room whole. Even the torches flicker as if bowing to her.
You watch as Snow curtsies, as the court murmurs in awe, as your father smiles with a pride he never once directed at you. You tell yourself you don’t care. You tell yourself you’re used to it.
But when Ravenna’s cold eyes sweep the hall and land on you—truly land on you—you feel something shift. A prickle at the back of your neck. A warning. Or a promise.
One moment the hall is filled with polite applause and stiff smiles. The next, screams echo off the stone walls. Guards rush forward. Snow is pulled away. You’re shoved back. Ravenna’s voice cuts through the chaos like a blade, commanding, sharp, absolute.
You don’t even know where you’re running to—just away. Away from the guards, away from the queen’s piercing gaze, away from the sudden violence erupting around you.
A hand closes around your wrist—cold, unyielding—and yanks you backward. You stumble, breath catching in your throat, and when you turn, Ravenna stands before you. Too close. Too calm. Too knowing.
You’re dragged through corridors you’ve never seen, deeper into the castle, past rooms that smell of dust and secrets. Finally, you’re shoved into a bedroom—lavish, but suffocating—and the door slams shut behind you.
You press your forehead against the glass, staring out at the distant treetops. Snow is somewhere out there. Snow, who has always been loved. Snow, who has always been protected. Snow, who has always been the center of everything.
You tell yourself you shouldn’t worry about her. You tell yourself she never worried about you.
But you do. You always have.
And you hate that you still do.
The room is silent except for your breathing. Meals appear and disappear without a word. No one speaks to you. No one explains anything. You sit on the edge of the bed, knees pulled to your chest, and wonder if this is how you’ll spend the rest of your life—forgotten again, but this time on purpose.
Then, after what feels like forever, the door unlocks.
You stand so quickly your legs shake.
“Why?” you whisper, the word scraping out of your throat.
“You’ll understand soon enough,” she says.
“What are you going to do to us?”
“I’m going to do nothing to you, darling.” Her voice softens in a way that startles you. “I took you here to keep you safe, love.”
But something is different now.
Days turn into weeks. Weeks into months.
And every day, Ravenna comes.
At first, you’re terrified. You expect cruelty, interrogation, punishment. But she never raises her voice. Never touches you without permission. Never treats you like a prisoner, even though you are one.
She asks questions no one has ever cared enough to ask—about your childhood, your dreams, your fears, your loneliness. She looks at you like she’s memorizing every detail. Like you’re not invisible. Like you matter.
And slowly—too slowly for you to notice at first—you begin to look forward to her visits. You begin to wait for the sound of the lock turning. You begin to feel something warm unfurl in your chest when she enters the room.
And when she leaves, the silence feels heavier than it used to.
You hate that you miss her.
One day, she enters without her usual guarded expression. She looks almost… nervous.
“Darling?” she says softly.
“When I first visited, you wanted to know why I wanted to keep you safe.” She steps closer. “Part of the reason is that you intrigue me. And the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I want to be around you. You have a hold over me, my darling. The power to have me do anything you ask. My heart is yours, my dear. I’ve fallen in love with you.”
“Yes, my dear. I wish I could go back and change things, but it’s pointless to wish. All I want is you by my side.”
For a long moment, you can’t breathe. Her words hang between you like something fragile, something dangerous. Ravenna—cold, untouchable Ravenna—looks almost afraid of your answer.
You step back, not out of fear, but to steady yourself.
“I don’t understand,” you say softly. “You’ve kept me locked away. You took me from my home.”
Her expression cracks, just slightly.
“I know,” she murmurs. “And I regret the way I did it. But if I hadn’t taken you, you would have been caught in the storm that followed your sister. The kingdom is shifting. Power is shifting. And you were vulnerable.”
You swallow hard. “Snow… is she really safe?”
“She is. But she is also watched. And she is also… useful to those who want to control her. You, however—” She steps closer, voice lowering. “You are not a pawn. You never were.”
You look away, unsure what to do with the warmth rising in your chest.
“You say you want me by your side,” you whisper. “But what does that mean?”
Ravenna hesitates. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen her search for words.
“It means,” she says slowly, “that I want you to choose to stay. Not because you’re locked in a room. Not because you fear me. But because you see me. Because you understand me in a way no one else ever has.”
Your heart thuds painfully.
You think of the months she spent visiting you—her guarded smiles, the rare moments she let her walls down, the strange comfort you felt when she was there and the emptiness that followed when she left.
She lifts a hand, hovering near your cheek.
“You don’t need to answer now,” she says. “I will not force your loyalty. Or your affection. But I will protect you. Even from myself, if I must.”
The door behind her is open.
Your pulse quickens. “If I step through that door… what happens?”
Ravenna’s eyes soften. “Then you walk beside me. Not as a prisoner. Not as a forgotten princess. But as someone I trust.”
You take a breath, feeling the weight of years—of being overlooked, overshadowed, unseen.
For the first time, someone is looking at you like you matter.
You move one step closer to her.
“I’ll walk with you,” you say quietly. “But I want the truth. All of it. About Snow. About the kingdom. About why you really brought me here.”
Ravenna nods, relief flickering across her face.
“Then come,” she says. “There is much you deserve to know.”
And together, you step into the corridor—no longer locked away, but stepping into a future you never expected.
The corridor feels colder than you remember.
For months, the only world you knew was the four walls of your room—your prison, your sanctuary, your cage. Now, stepping into the hallway feels like stepping into a dream you’re not sure you’re allowed to have. The air tastes different. Sharper. Real.
Ravenna walks beside you, not touching you, but close enough that you feel the gravity of her presence. She moves like a shadow made of gold and ice, her gown whispering across the stone floor. You’ve seen her every day for months, but never like this—never outside the confines of that room, never with the door open behind her.
Or at least, you’re supposed to be.
Your heart doesn’t know the difference yet.
Ravenna glances at you, her expression unreadable. “Are you well?”
You nod, though your pulse is racing. “I… think so.”
“You may speak freely,” she says. “You always may.”
You don’t tell her that freedom is a foreign language to you. You don’t tell her that you’re afraid of saying the wrong thing, of breaking whatever fragile understanding has formed between you.
Ravenna leads you through corridors you’ve never seen—corridors that feel older than the kingdom itself. The walls are carved with symbols you don’t recognize, runes that seem to shimmer when the torchlight hits them.
“This part of the castle was sealed long before your father’s reign,” Ravenna says, noticing your curiosity. “Few know it exists.”
“Why bring me here?” you ask.
“Because you deserve to see the truth,” she replies. “Not the version your father allowed you to see.”
You swallow. The truth. The word feels heavy.
You pass a tall mirror framed in blackened iron. You catch your reflection—pale, thinner than you remember, eyes too wide. You look like someone who has lived in shadows.
“Do not look at yourself with shame,” she says quietly. “You survived what others would not.”
You blink, startled. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking that.”
“You were,” she says gently. “I know the look.”
You don’t know what to say to that. You don’t know how she sees through you so easily, how she reads the thoughts you barely admit to yourself.
She leads you into a chamber lit by dozens of candles. The air smells of herbs and something metallic. Books line the walls—ancient, leather-bound, some chained shut. A table in the center holds vials of shimmering liquid, feathers, stones, and objects you can’t name.
You step inside cautiously.
“This is where I work,” Ravenna says. “Where I prepare what must be done to keep the kingdom from falling.”
You turn to her. “Why show me this?”
“Because you asked for the truth,” she says. “And because I trust you.”
The words hit you harder than you expect.
You’ve never been trusted with anything. Not by your father. Not by the court. Not even by Snow, who always assumed you were fine, who never noticed the cracks forming in you.
But Ravenna sees them. Ravenna sees everything.
You move toward the table, fingers hovering over a vial filled with swirling silver liquid. “What is this?”
“A protection charm,” she says. “For Snow.”
“Yes.” Ravenna’s voice is calm, but there’s something tight beneath it. “Your sister is… important. Not just to the kingdom, but to forces older than any of us.”
You turn to her slowly. “Then why take me? Why lock me away?”
Ravenna steps closer, her eyes softening. “Because you were the one in danger.”
You shake your head. “Snow is the one everyone cares about.”
“Not everyone,” Ravenna says, and there’s a tremor in her voice you’ve never heard before. “Not me.”
She looks away, as if ashamed of the vulnerability she’s revealed.
Ravenna moves to a shelf, pulling down a book bound in dark green leather. She sets it on the table and opens it to a page filled with sketches—sketches of you.
Your face, your posture, your expressions—captured in ink with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.
You whisper, “You drew these?”
She nods once. “I needed to remember you. When I could not see you.”
Your throat tightens. “Ravenna…”
She closes the book gently. “I know what you think of me. I know what I’ve done. But I need you to understand something.”
She steps closer, close enough that you feel the warmth of her breath.
“I did not lock you away to control you,” she says. “I locked you away because I feared losing you.”
You stare at her, stunned. “You barely knew me.”
“I knew enough,” she murmurs. “Enough to know that you were different. Enough to know that you saw me—not the crown, not the power, not the fear others carry. You saw me.”
Your chest feels too tight. “I didn’t… I didn’t know you felt that.”
“I tried not to,” she admits. “But every day I visited you, it became harder to pretend.”
You look down, overwhelmed. “I thought you were just… being kind. Or trying to manipulate me.”
Ravenna lets out a soft, humorless laugh. “If I wanted to manipulate you, darling, you would never have known I cared.”
Her eyes are no longer cold.
They’re warm. Vulnerable. Human.
Ravenna reaches out, slowly, giving you time to pull away. When you don’t, her fingers brush your cheek—light as a whisper.
“You are not forgotten,” she says softly. “You never were. Not by me.”
You close your eyes, leaning into her touch before you can stop yourself. Her hand trembles slightly against your skin.
When you open your eyes, she’s watching you with a look that steals the air from your lungs.
She steps back abruptly, as if afraid of what she might do if she stays close. “I should show you the rest of the castle.”
You nod, though your heart is still racing.
The rest of the day passes in a blur.
She shows you the gardens—overgrown but beautiful, filled with white roses that bloom even in winter. She shows you the library, where dust dances in the sunlight. She shows you the throne room, empty and echoing, where she pauses for a moment too long, her expression unreadable.
Everywhere you go, she walks beside you—not leading, not guiding, but matching your pace.
As if she wants you there.
You catch her watching you more than once. Not with hunger. Not with possession.
Something that feels like longing.
As the sun sets, Ravenna leads you to a balcony overlooking the forest. The sky is painted in gold and violet. The wind is cool against your skin.
“You’re quiet,” she says.
“I’m thinking,” you reply.
You hesitate. “About everything. About you.”
Ravenna’s breath catches, so faint you almost miss it. “And what do you think of me now?”
You turn to her. “I don’t know yet. But I know I don’t feel afraid.”
She exhales slowly, relief softening her features. “Good.”
You look out at the forest again. “What happens now?”
“That depends on you,” she says. “You asked for the truth. I will give it to you. But it will not be easy to hear.”
You nod. “I want to know.”
“And,” she adds quietly, “if you choose to stay… I will make sure you never feel forgotten again.”
But you step closer to her—close enough that your shoulders brush.
Ravenna doesn’t move away.
When she walks you back to your room—your unlocked room—she pauses at the doorway.
“I will not lock it again,” she says. “You may come and go as you wish.”
You nod, though your chest feels strangely hollow at the thought of her leaving.
She hesitates. “If you need anything… if you feel afraid, or lonely, or uncertain… you may come to me.”
You meet her eyes. “Thank you. For today.”
Her expression softens in a way you’ve never seen. “It was my pleasure.”
The door remains open behind her.
Night settles over the castle like a velvet cloak, soft and heavy. The corridors are quiet now, the torches dimmed to a low golden glow. You stand in your doorway, staring at the open hall beyond it. The freedom still feels unreal, like a dream you might wake from at any moment.
You should rest after the overwhelming day Ravenna gave you.
But your feet don’t move.
Your thoughts don’t settle.
Because all you can think about is her.
The way she looked at you on the balcony.
The way her voice softened when she said she trusted you.
The way her hand trembled when she touched your cheek.
You’ve never seen Ravenna tremble.
You’ve never seen her unsure.
You’ve never seen her human.
And now you can’t stop seeing it.
You take a breath, steadying yourself, and step into the corridor.
Your door remains open behind you.
But you walk away from it.
You don’t know how you know where her chambers are. Maybe you’ve memorized the path without realizing it. Maybe you’ve been paying more attention to her than you thought. Or maybe something inside you simply pulls you toward her, like a tide you can’t fight.
When you reach the tall, dark wooden doors, your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure she’ll hear it from the other side.
You raise your hand to knock.
Then the door opens before you can touch it.
Ravenna stands there, framed by candlelight. Her hair is loose for the first time you’ve ever seen, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Without her crown, without her armor of gold and steel, she looks younger. Softer. Almost fragile.
Her eyes widen slightly when she sees you.
“Darling,” she says quietly. “I didn’t expect you.”
You swallow. “I… couldn’t sleep.”
A small smile touches her lips. “Nor could I.”
She steps aside, allowing you in.
You enter her chambers slowly, taking in the space. It’s nothing like you imagined. You expected cold marble, sharp edges, a room as intimidating as she is.
Lit by dozens of candles that flicker gently against the walls. A fire crackles in the hearth. The air smells faintly of jasmine and something darker—something uniquely her.
Ravenna closes the door behind you.
She moves to the window, her silhouette outlined by moonlight. You watch her for a moment, unsure how to begin, unsure what you even came here to say.
“Today was… difficult for you,” she says softly. “I know that.”
You step closer. “It wasn’t just difficult. It was… overwhelming.”
She nods, still facing the window. “I should have eased you into it. I forget, sometimes, that not everyone has lived as I have lived.”
You hesitate. “Ravenna… why did you really show me all of that? The secrets. The magic. The truth.”
“Because you asked,” she says. “And because I want you to know me. Not the queen. Not the sorceress. Me.”
She steps closer, her voice lowering. “I have never wanted that with anyone.”
You feel the air shift between you, warm and electric.
“Ravenna,” you whisper, “I came here because… I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
Her eyes soften. “Nor did I.”
She reaches out, hesitating for the briefest moment before her fingers brush your hand. The touch is feather-light, but it sends a shiver up your arm.
Her fingers slide between yours, slow and deliberate, as if she’s giving you every chance to change your mind.
“You have no idea,” she murmurs, “what you do to me.”
Your heart stutters. “Then tell me.”
She lifts your joined hands, bringing them to her chest. You feel her heartbeat beneath your palm—fast, unsteady, nothing like the cold, controlled queen the world sees.
“You make me feel,” she whispers. “Truly feel. And I have not allowed myself that in a very long time.”
You step closer, your bodies almost touching. “I don’t want you to hide from me.”
Her eyes close for a moment, as if your words physically affect her. When she opens them again, they’re filled with something raw and unguarded.
“I don’t want to hide from you,” she says. “Not anymore.”
She lifts her free hand to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Her touch is gentle, reverent, almost worshipful.
You don’t know what she’s asking.
But you know your answer.
Her forehead rests against yours, her breath mingling with yours. She closes her eyes, and for a moment, neither of you move. You simply stand there, sharing the same air, the same warmth, the same trembling anticipation.
Her thumb strokes your cheek.
“You are the first person,” she murmurs, “who has ever looked at me without fear.”
You swallow. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“I know,” she whispers. “That is why I cannot stay away from you.”
Your heart feels too big for your chest.
She pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.
“Tell me to stop,” she says softly. “And I will.”
You shake your head. “I don’t want you to stop.”
And the space between you disappears.
Her lips hover a breath away from yours—so close you feel the warmth of them, the softness, the promise. She doesn’t close the distance. She waits. She gives you the choice.
You lean in, just slightly.
Her hand tightens around yours.
But she still doesn’t kiss you.
Instead, she whispers, “If I kiss you, I will not be able to pretend anymore.”
You whisper back, “Then don’t pretend.”
Her eyes darken with emotion so intense it steals your breath.
“Darling,” she murmurs, “you undo me.”
You lift your hand to her cheek, mirroring her earlier gesture. Her skin is warm beneath your fingers. She leans into your touch like she’s been starving for it.
“Ravenna,” you whisper, “kiss me.”
She presses her lips to your forehead.
A kiss that is tender, reverent, aching with restraint.
A kiss that says more than passion ever could.
When she pulls back, her eyes are shining.
“I want you,” she says softly. “But not as a moment stolen in the dark. I want you when you are ready. When you choose me fully. When you know everything.”
Your chest tightens. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She smiles—small, real, vulnerable.
“Then stay with me tonight,” she whispers. “Not as lovers. Not yet. Just… stay.”
And she leads you to the chaise by the fire, where she sits beside you, her hand never leaving yours. You rest your head on her shoulder, and she wraps an arm around you, holding you as if you’re something precious.
The fire crackles softly.
Her heartbeat steadies beneath your cheek.
And for the first time in your life, you feel chosen.
Not because of your title.
Not because of your sister.
Not because of what you can offer.
The fire crackles softly in Ravenna’s chambers, casting warm light across the stone walls. You sit beside her on the chaise, your head resting lightly against her shoulder, her arm wrapped around you in a way that feels both protective and hesitant—like she’s afraid you might vanish if she holds you too tightly.
For a long time, neither of you speak.
You listen to the rhythm of her breathing, steady but not quite calm. You feel the tension in her body, the way she holds herself as if she’s waiting for something—permission, perhaps. Or forgiveness.
You shift slightly, turning your face toward her. “Ravenna?”
She hums in acknowledgment, a soft sound you’ve never heard from her before.
“Can I ask you something?”
Her arm tightens around you, just barely. “You may ask me anything.”
You lift your head from her shoulder, and she immediately looks down at you, her expression open in a way that startles you. She’s not wearing her crown. She’s not wearing her armor. She’s just… Ravenna.
“What are you afraid of?” you ask quietly.
For a moment, she doesn’t answer. Her gaze drifts toward the fire, as if the flames might offer her a way out of the question. But you wait. You don’t push. You simply sit there, close enough that your knees touch, close enough that she can feel your warmth.
“I am afraid,” she says slowly, “of wanting something I cannot have.”
Her eyes close, as if the word itself hurts. “Yes.”
Your heart twists. “Why do you think you can’t have me?”
She opens her eyes again, and they shine with something raw. “Because I have taken too much from you already. Your freedom. Your certainty. Your trust. I do not deserve your affection.”
You shake your head. “You didn’t take my trust. You earned it.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “I do not know how.”
“By being honest,” you say. “By being here. By letting me see you.”
Ravenna looks at you as if she’s never been looked at before.
She shifts, turning her body toward you fully. Her hand lifts, hovering near your cheek but not touching—not yet. She’s always so careful with you, as if you’re something fragile. As if she’s terrified of breaking you.
“Do you know,” she whispers, “how long it has been since someone spoke to me without fear?”
“Years,” she says. “Decades, perhaps. I lost count. People look at me and see power. They see danger. They see a weapon.”
You reach up, gently taking her hand and guiding it to your cheek. Her fingers tremble against your skin.
“I don’t see a weapon,” you say softly. “I see a woman who’s been alone for too long.”
“You should hate me,” she murmurs. “You should resent me for what I’ve done.”
“Do you want me to hate you?”
“No,” she says immediately, the word breaking out of her like a confession. “No, I could not bear that.”
You lean into her touch. “Then stop expecting it.”
Her eyes soften, and for the first time, you see something like hope flicker there.
Ravenna withdraws her hand only to take both of yours in hers. She holds them tightly, as if grounding herself.
“There is something you must understand,” she says. “Something I have never told anyone.”
“When I look at you,” she whispers, “I see the life I could have had. The life I wanted before the world taught me to be cruel.”
Your breath catches. “Ravenna…”
“You remind me,” she continues, voice trembling, “that I was not always this. That I was once capable of gentleness. Of warmth. Of love.”
You squeeze her hands. “You still are.”
She shakes her head. “I do not know how to be gentle anymore.”
Her eyes close, and a tear slips down her cheek—silent, unexpected, quickly brushed away as if she’s ashamed of it.
“I am gentle with you,” she admits, “because you make me want to be.”
You lift one hand and cup her cheek, mirroring the way she touched you earlier. She leans into your palm instinctively, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Ravenna,” you whisper, “you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”
She opens her eyes again, and they’re shining with emotion so intense it steals your breath.
“You do not understand,” she says softly. “You are the first person who has ever looked at me and seen something worth saving.”
You shake your head. “I don’t want to save you. I want to know you.”
Her lips part, as if she’s forgotten how to breathe.
Ravenna shifts closer, her knees brushing yours, her hands still holding yours tightly. She looks at you like she’s memorizing every detail of your face.
“I have lived a long life,” she says quietly. “Longer than you know. And in all that time, I have never allowed myself to feel what I feel for you.”
Your pulse quickens. “What do you feel?”
She exhales shakily. “Everything.”
You swallow hard. “Ravenna…”
She lifts a hand, brushing her fingers along your jaw, down your neck, stopping at your collarbone. The touch is feather-light, reverent, almost fearful.
“You make me want to be better,” she whispers. “You make me want to be worthy.”
She shakes her head. “No. But I want to be. For you.”
Your chest tightens painfully.
You lean forward, resting your forehead against hers. She inhales sharply, her hands gripping your waist as if she needs the contact to stay grounded.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you whisper.
“I am thinking,” she says, voice trembling, “that if I kiss you now, I will never let you go.”
Your breath catches. “And if I want that?”
She closes her eyes, pained. “Then I must be certain you want it for the right reasons. Not because you feel lonely. Not because I have power. Not because I took you from your home.”
You lift her chin gently, forcing her to meet your gaze.
“I want you,” you say softly, “because you see me. Because you care. Because you’ve shown me more honesty than anyone ever has.”
Ravenna’s eyes shine with unshed tears.
“You undo me,” she whispers.
“And you steady me,” you reply.
She pulls back just enough to look at you fully, her hands still resting on your waist.
“I need you to understand,” she says, “that loving me is dangerous.”
You nod. “So is loving anyone.”
She lets out a soft, broken laugh. “You are braver than you know.”
You shake your head. “I’m just tired of being afraid.”
Ravenna cups your face with both hands now, her thumbs brushing your cheeks. Her touch is warm, steady, grounding.
“I will not kiss you tonight,” she says gently. “Not until you know everything. Not until you choose me with your whole heart.”
You nod, though your chest aches with wanting.
“But,” she adds softly, “I will hold you. If you’ll let me.”
You don’t answer with words.
You simply move into her arms.
She gathers you against her chest, holding you with a tenderness that feels impossible for someone like her. You rest your head beneath her chin, listening to the steady beat of her heart.
Her fingers stroke your hair slowly, reverently.
“Stay with me,” she whispers into your hair. “Just like this.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
And for the first time in her long, lonely life, Ravenna believes it.
You don’t know how long you stay in Ravenna’s arms.
Long enough for the fire to settle into glowing embers.
Long enough for the tension in her shoulders to melt beneath your cheek.
Long enough for your heartbeat to find a rhythm that matches hers.
When you finally shift, lifting your head from her chest, she looks down at you with an expression you’ve never seen on her face before — open, unguarded, almost fragile.
“Are you comfortable?” she asks softly.
You nod. “More than I expected to be.”
A faint smile touches her lips. “Good.”
But something flickers behind her eyes — something she’s trying to hide. You sit up a little straighter, studying her.
“Ravenna,” you say gently, “what’s wrong?”
She hesitates. And that alone tells you everything. Ravenna never hesitates. Not with her words. Not with her power. Not with anything.
“I am afraid,” she admits quietly.
Your breath catches. “Of what?”
She looks away, her fingers tightening slightly around yours. “Of wanting too much.”
You swallow. “What do you want?”
Her eyes return to yours, and the vulnerability in them steals the air from your lungs.
“You,” she whispers. “But I do not want to take anything from you. Not again. Not ever.”
You lift a hand to her cheek, brushing your thumb gently along her skin. She leans into your touch instinctively, her eyes fluttering shut.
“You’re not taking anything,” you say softly. “I’m giving it.”
You feel her hand rise, slow and hesitant, until her fingers curl lightly around your wrist — not pulling you closer, not guiding you, just holding on.
“Darling,” she murmurs, “if I kiss you… it will mean something. Something I cannot take back.”
Your heart thuds painfully. “I don’t want you to take it back.”
Her eyes open, and the emotion in them is so raw it almost hurts to look at.
She lifts her other hand, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Her fingertips linger at your jaw, tracing the line of it with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.
“Are you certain?” she whispers.
Ravenna inhales slowly, as if steadying herself. She leans in — not quickly, not confidently, but with the careful reverence of someone approaching something sacred.
Her forehead rests against yours.
Her breath mingles with yours.
Her hand cups your cheek, warm and steady.
And then, finally, she closes the last inch between you.
Like a question she’s afraid to ask.
It’s not a hungry kiss. Not a desperate one. It’s a promise — quiet, trembling, full of emotion she’s never allowed herself to feel.
You kiss her back just as softly, your hand sliding to the back of her neck, your thumb brushing her skin in a silent reassurance.
She exhales against your lips, a sound so fragile it makes your heart twist.
When she pulls back, her eyes are shining.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“For choosing me,” she says. “For seeing me. For letting me be something other than what the world made me.”
You rest your forehead against hers again, your hands still holding her gently.
“I didn’t choose you,” you say softly. “I found you. And I’m not letting go.”
Ravenna closes her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek — not of sorrow, but of relief.
She presses a second kiss to your forehead, lingering there.
