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Ignis knew that Ravus was up to no good the moment he heard him enter the kitchen and felt him start to glare holes into his back with his gaze. He decided to pay him no heed, focusing on the task of pouring the right amount of flour into the measuring cup, but if years spent married to the King of Tenebrae had taught him anything, it was that the said King did not like to be ignored. Soon enough, Ravus let out an annoyed huff, and stepped closer, leaning over Ignis’ shoulder to look at what exactly was he preparing.
“Another attempt at recreating the pastries?” he asked with an air of poorly faked casualness, and Ignis did not even have to look at him to know that he was smirking.
“Yes, I’m using a different kind of sugar for the crust this time,” he replied. Noctis and Lunafreya were supposed to visit them that night, and Ignis was really set on trying out yet another modified recipe.
“Mmm,” murmured Ravus, taking a step back, seemingly losing interest. Ignis did not let his guard down, however, because the man was still looming in the kitchen. He did not have to wait long - Ravus’ next words made what he wanted perfectly clear. “What if I told you I know exactly what you’re doing wrong?”
“Do you, now?” said Ignis, trying to sound dismissive. That it was. His vague premonition slowly morphed into an absolute certainty - and he did not like it even one bit.
“But of course.” Ravus’ tone was one of pure, malicious mirth. “I’ve got the recipe. Luna and I used to bake them all the time when we were children.”
“Really.”
“I bet half of my kingdom that you are dying to get your hands on it.” He was baiting him, clearly. Ignis realised that he was putting more force into kneading the dough than strictly necessary.
“Hmm.”
“Tell me, Ignis,” purred Ravus, finally getting fed up with Ignis’ lack of acknowledgement. He caught the younger man’s arm and turned him around, so that they were standing chest to chest, and put his palms on the countertop, effectively trapping Ignis between his arms. Their lips were so close that they almost brushed as Ravus whispered his next teasing question. “You want me to impart that knowledge to you, do you not?”
“Well, will you?” Ignis swallowed hard, forcing his expression into a carefully schooled mask. He did not dare move.
“So that you can bake the pastries for that spoiled brat?” sneered Ravus, suddenly taking a step back. “Don’t be asinine.”
And with that, he turned on his heel and left the kitchen, but Ignis did not miss the wicked grin that lit up his face. Of course, he knew the recipe. He had a suspicion, of course, but never asked about it, knowing full well that Ravus would not miss out on the opportunity to mock him about it. ‘Really, Scientia, you can’t figure it out on your own and have to come crying for help to me? I’m truly disappointed.’ He could practically hear the other’s voice in his head.
Ignis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
A war, then.
Very well. The master tactician had already developed a plan.
Operation R: Ravus’ Recipe
Objective: Obtain the recipe for the Tenebraean pastry at all costs.
Strategy: Bribery
How does one bribe a King, when said King can have anything material that he could possibly want? Ignis pondered this question for several days and concluded that his only chance was a favour. Something that Ravus could not possibly wish to decline, something that would make his life simpler. With that in mind, he waited for an appropriate moment - and it came sooner than expected, along with the dry, summer air.
Ravus had just returned from an official meeting and dropped heavily onto the couch. In the safety of their private rooms, he could let his facade down, his whole posture slouching.
“You look exhausted,” said Ignis, approaching him from the behind, and placing his palms on his shoulders. “The meeting with the lords did not go well?”
“A bunch of fools, each and every one of them,” groaned Ravus in response. “They’ve spent an hour, an hour, Ignis, arguing over the crop yield this season, which is something that I’ve discussed at length with various committees four times, I’ve signed a decree that perhaps is not an ideal solution to the problem, but that’s the best we can do at the moment. We were done with it, yet apparently, basic arithmetics is far too complex for these imbeciles because they seem to be unable to comprehend the fact that we simply can’t afford a more sustainable solution. And that was only the first point on our agenda.”
“Mmm,” hummed Ignis, proceeding to gently massage the muscles of his husband’s tense back. Seeing him so tired… Ignis almost resigned from carrying out his plan, but he did not forget about his objective - he would get the recipe, no matter the cost. He steeled himself inside and spoke softly. “I’ve looked into your schedule for this week, dear. You’re overworking yourself.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s not like I can help it.” Ravus let out an exasperated sigh. “My attendance is of substance.”
“What if I could relieve you of some of the responsibility?” He could see the King opened his mouth in protest, but he cut him short. “No, hear me out. I suppose nobody would dare to question your decision to allow the royal consort to take over some of your work.”
“I must admit, it’s a rather tempting proposal,” replied Ravus, his voice oddly quiet. “Would you really do this?”
“Well,” started Ignis. He really hated what he was about to do, but he did not see another way. “If I could ask you for just one, tiny favour in return…”
“Ah, there’s the catch - and here I thought you were simply worried about me,” scowled Ravus. All the softness and vulnerability suddenly vanished from his expression. “What is it?”
“Nothing much, really,” said Ignis, idly stroking the other’s broad shoulders with open palms. “But I hoped you could share the secret of the pastries with me…”
“Oh, no. Not in a million years,” hissed Ravus, abruptly jumping to his feet. “I’m deeply offended. How on Eos did you arrive at the conclusion that an attempt to bribe me would work?”
Ignis sighed deeply, watching his King’s back as he stormed out of the room. Mission failed, it seemed. But it did not matter - truth to be told, Ignis did not really expect such a simple trick to work, and besides, he had already prepared a plan B. But he felt a slight pang of guilt in his chest - perhaps trying to bribe his husband with a promise of allowing him to get more than a few hours of sleep was a bit of a low blow, to put it mildly. The accusation still rang loud and clear in his ears.
Even though Ravus refused to share the recipe, Ignis took over half of his meetings anyway.
Operation R: Ravus’ Recipe; Attempt 2
Objective: Obtain the recipe for the Tenebraean pastry at all costs.
Strategy: Bargaining
Ignis had to admit, that the attempted bribery could not, even under the kindest scrutiny, be qualified as one of his best ideas of all times. But what if he left some room for discussion? What if he could strike a bargain? He was prepared to give up a lot - no, more - he knew he would have to - negotiations were practically part of Ravus’ job. Of course, he would not go easy on him just because they were married. But Ignis had a trick or two up his sleeve as well, so that morning, he felt confident as he seated himself across Ravus on the opposite side of the kitchen table.
“Ravus… you know that Noctis’ birthday is approaching, right?” he asked innocently.
“Don’t even remind me,” groaned Ravus, hiding his face behind the newspaper. “I wish I could forget.”
“I have a proposal for you - what if we make a deal?” There was no point in tiptoeing around the issue, after all. They both had their jobs to do and meetings to attend in roughly thirty minutes, so Ignis did not want to waste any time. “You tell me the recipe for the Tenebraean pastries, and I will make sure that you can excuse yourself from the party around midnight.”
“Unacceptable. My secret is too precious to be sold at such a lousy price,” said Ravus, his brows furrowing, but Ignis was surprised to notice that he seemed amused rather than annoyed and that he did not reject the offer immediately. “I do not wish to attend the party at all.”
“That would not be possible. Let’s make it ten?”
“Ten minutes, perhaps, and I’m leaving.”
“Eight in the evening, and not a second earlier. You can make it through an hour of the party, I assure you.” Ignis grew increasingly bolder. This time he would surely succeed. Ravus absolutely despised parties of all kind, and Noctis’ birthday the most.
“Hmm, perhaps,” hummed Ravus after a thoughtful pause.
“Do we have an agreement, then?” he asked carefully, not yet sure if he could proclaim the victory.
“No. But it was amusing to see you try.” Ravus actually chuckled, putting the newspaper down and getting up from his chair. On his way out, he leaned in to press a soft kiss on Ignis’ cheek, but the strategist dodged his lips and huffed, annoyed. Ravus only shrugged, giving him the most radiant smile, and left.
Another attempt - another failure. No matter. What kind of strategist would he have been if he did not have a backup plan for a backup plan?
Ravus might have refused the final offer, but when the day of Noctis’ birthday party came, Ignis politely excused him from most of the event, on account of a migraine that he did not have, anyway.
Operation R: Ravus’ Recipe; Attempt 3
Objective: Obtain the recipe for the Tenebraean pastry at all costs.
Strategy: Blackmail
Third time's a charm, is what they say, is it not? Having suffered two spectacular, humiliating defeats, the whole affair was becoming a matter of pride to him. Ignis was loath to resort to such drastic measures, but his husband had basically been asking for it with his stubbornness, had he not?
“That’s it, Ravus,” he exclaimed, standing in front of the King’s desk. “I’m going to give you an ultimatum - either you give me the recipe, or I’m going to tell Luna what exactly happened to her chocolate cake.”
“Blackmail, Scientia? You’re truly getting desperate, aren’t you?” Ravus raised a single eyebrow, looking up to Ignis from his paperwork. He leaned back in his chair, elbows spreading wide, his hands connecting by the light press of fingertips. “I hope you do realise that I could have you executed for treason?”
“You would do no such thing,” huffed Ignis. “We are married. But I’m not joking.”
“Oh, worry not, I would have never accused you of having anything even resembling a sense of humour.” There it was again, the smirk inevitably making its way to Ravus’ lips. “But if you want me to treat this insanity seriously, have it your way. You can’t prove anything.”
“Except that I can. You were unlucky enough to be caught by a certain stray photographer. Fortunately for you, I secured the evidence before he could share it with anyone - but if you don’t comply, I may let something slip…” Truth to be told, Ignis was really lucky that time. Prompto was his dear friend, but he could not possibly allow him to run around with such an incriminating material. Besides... Ravus, with chocolate smeared on his cheek after a failed attempt to wipe it off his lips, was simply adorable. Ignis would never admit it out loud, but in moments like that, he found himself to turn incredibly possessive.
“I’m going to murder this kid, slowly and painfully,” muttered Ravus, pinching the bridge of his nose. “A no is a no. Do whatever you want. I dare you.”
“Very well,” said Ignis, his voice stern. He rushed out of the King’s office, fully intent on contacting Lunafreya immediately. But halfway through the corridor, he realised that he was, in fact, acting ridiculous. She probably knew the culprit anyway, and if not, he really did not want to upset her even with something as silly as her brother eating her cake.
Yet again, Ravus refused to tell him the recipe, but Ignis did not act on his threat anyway.
Operation R: Ravus’ Recipe; Attempt 4
Objective: Obtain the recipe for the Tenebraean pastry at all costs.
Strategy: Flattery
One of Ravus’ greatest flaws was his ego. Flattery will get you everywhere, was it not yet another thing that people kept saying? In all honesty, Ignis had grown wary of the common knowledge, but he was running out of ideas, and it was not that he had any dignity left, after all. He had to be careful with this one, however. Ravus did not take compliments lightly, and if he wanted to make it work, he had to choose his timing impeccably. The problem was that the days on which the King was in a good mood were rare, and the hardships of rebuilding the country caused these days to become even fewer and further between.
Three weeks had passed before Ignis was able to put his plan into action.
Ravus was reclining on the sofa, reading a book, absentmindedly stroking Pryna’s thick, white fur with his human hand. He was dressed in the casual clothes - a simple black t-shirt and jeans - which in itself was a highly unusual occurrence. Ignis stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight. Ravus looked… well, maybe not relaxed, but less troubled than he usually did. It was a good sign, all things considered. He made his way to the couch, and sat down on the soft carpet next to it, resting his head on his husband’s lap.
“Sweetheart,” he hummed, smiling. “How are you feeling?”
Ravus paused and blinked. Marked the page. Slowly put the book down. Blinked again.
“Are you ill? You must be running a temperature,” he said, placing his palm over Ignis’ forehead, his brows furrowing. Ignis could not help but grin.
“I’ve only wished to know how is my husband feeling, is it that grave of an offence?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Sweetheart? Seriously?” replied Ravus, but his words lacked their typical, mocking edge.
“Would you prefer ‘honey’ instead?” Ignis snorted at the utterly disgusted scowl that appeared on his husband’s face. “Relax. I just wanted to tell you that there are moments when I realise just how much I love you.” He slowly moved upwards, bracing his hands on both sides of Ravus’ head so that he could look straight into the mismatched irises. “I can’t help but be impressed by your kingly demeanour, your effortless aura of authority. When I watched you today, dealing with this pathetic excuse for a minister… I wanted to kiss you right there and then, regardless of who was watching.”
“You’re delirious.” Ravus could roll his eyes all he wanted, but he could never deny nor hide the faint blush that coloured his cheeks.
“And you are incredibly intelligent and handsome.” To emphasise his words, Ignis pressed several feather-light kisses onto Ravus’ brow, cheeks, nose. “I am truly a lucky man. And surely, my beloved King wouldn’t mind…”
“All right, all right, enough, I’m not giving you the recipe,” Ravus cut him short, letting out a deep, tormented sigh.
“I wasn’t going to ask for it,” huffed the younger man, burying his nose in the crook of Ravus’ neck.
“Really, Ignis, now you’re just being offensive.” Of course, Ravus was right. The lie was way too obvious and superficial, and he felt mildly insulted that Ignis was not even trying. The younger man chose to scoop closer to his husband as if he could hide from the scrutinising gaze even further.
“I mean everything I’ve said,” his voice was barely above the whisper, and if Ravus heard his words, he did not acknowledge it.
At this point, Ravus might have been simply being mean about the whole thing, but even much later, Ignis stood by every sweet word he had said anyway.
Operation R: Ravus’ Recipe; Attempt 5
Objective: Obtain the recipe for the Tenebraean pastry at all costs.
Strategy: [Top Secret]
Ignis hoped that maybe one day, Ravus would be able to forgive him.
What he was about to do…
At all costs.
“Ravus, dear, I really hoped that it wouldn’t have to come to this,” said Ignis. His face was an inscrutable mask as he slowly approached Ravus. “But I am afraid you leave me no choice.”
“If it’s about the pastries again…” sighed Ravus, not even bothering to finish the sentence.
“This is your last chance.” Ignis pulled off his gloves.
“I told you. No. What’s that cryptic tone all about?”
“Forgive me, love.”
Ignis surged forward.
The last resort. A weapon of ultimate destruction.
The sound that came out of Ravus’ lips could hardly qualify as something that could have been produced by a human being. It was wrong, it should not have been possible, yet the shrill shriek tore through the chambers, only narrowly missing the frequencies that could have upset the very layers of the known universe.
A carefully trained ear could have almost distinguished several words in that infernal sound - the names of the Six, called upon separately or collectively, yet all in vain.
Profanity.
Suddenly, it stopped. All that remained were broken wheezes, the only vocalisation that the abused throat was capable of.
Through the heavy, ragged breaths, the King of Tenebrae managed to rasp out one utterance, vaguely sounding like ‘I thought that marriage was supposed to end this war’. Whether he meant his marriage to Ignis or Noctis' marriage to Lunafreya, and which war was he referring to, remained unclear.
In all honesty, there was nobody around who would care about this. There was no mercy. No hope.
The vicious onslaught decreased in intensity, and Ravus found himself capable of producing a coherent sentence.
"That's against about every ruling of the Insomnia Convention, you better cease this immediately, or else...!"
Instead of complying, Ignis, the strategist, the tormentor, the executioner - added another weapon to his already powerful arsenal - a smug smirk and one raised eyebrow.
“I’ve warned you,” he said, his voice soft. “Who would have thought, that the great King of Tenebrae was so ticklish.”
Ravus was furious.
“I will not stand this humiliation any longer,” he growled. He looked deep, deep within himself, trying to find some remnants of his strength, something that would allow him to retaliate, to fight his oppressor. He was not fast enough.
Ignis chose that moment to deal a killing blow - he leaned in, kissing Ravus on the lips, as softly and sweetly as possible.
He pulled away abruptly, turned on his heel, and walked away, with a self-satisfied air, bearing a strange resemblance to a cat that had just got the cream.
Ignis might not have managed to get the recipe out of Ravus, but it was worth it, anyway.