Archive of Our Own

"Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she."

- Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

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Indris was acting strangely.

Not that Ravion was unused to it – Indris was always one to act odd, but it was more so that he was acting especially odd, which had stirred Ravion into a state of anxiety. 

He hardly saw the man anymore, always rising too early and returning home too late, with Ravion only hearing his whereabouts from Xera rather than from Indris himself. On its own, it was easy enough for Ravion to ignore. What Indris did with his time was really none of his business. They were both grown, after all, not petty youths who needed to be attached at the hip at all times. Ravion had no real reason to believe that Indris had less than acceptable excuses for being too busy to speak to him, and so he squared away that feeling of wrongness as wholly irrational and let it slide.

The distance, however, gave him pause. 

When Ravion got the (infrequent) opportunity to ask about how his trips went, Indris would merely respond in clipped one-word sentences, steering every conversation Ravion tried to stoke back to his “unfinished duties” and his “slacking off” – never mind that Ravion had all but finished his duties ahead of schedule due to Indris’s scarcity, leaving him without anything to give his time to. Something Indris would have noticed (maybe even praised), if he were around for it, but his time was seemingly better served above Sal’thorin as opposed to inside of it.

Indris had become increasingly and alarmingly distant, and though he couldn’t quite place the blame on any specific person, he could certainly pinpoint when the distance first took root.

The trouble began with the arrival of Misarte’s Scion.

Eironn, ripe apple of the Dark Forest’s eye, didn’t have to try to make the people of Sal’thorin love him, noble and commoner alike. His assistance in lifting Misarte’s curse immediately endeared him to the people, and it only grew when they got to meet him in person. Everyone who came across him just couldn’t stop raving about how wonderful he was, how much they envied the people of Misarte for having such a lovely and handsome man to call their herald of the divine – the sort of backhanded praise that Ravion had years of practice in taking on the chin.

What he had little practice in, and what had taken him completely off guard, was watching Misarte’s golden apple catch the eye of Indris.

It didn’t take long for the pieces to click into place for Ravion – Indris’s coldness, his distance, it all began to make sense. Mystery solved, crisis averted, Ravion wasn’t happy about it in the slightest. In fact, the mere thought of Eironn being the reason for Indris pulling away had left a sour taste in his mouth.

Ravion could understand, rationally, why Indris would prioritize doing...well, whatever he was doing with Eironn. If Indris had been paying even the slightest bit of attention to what Ravion had been telling him recently, then he’d know how important it was to strengthen Sal’thorin’s bonds with the Topsiders – rubbing elbows with the Dark Forest’s scions, non-exempt from Ravion’s diplomatic endeavors. If that’s what Indris was actually doing, then he should feel relieved – after all, any ally to make the integration with the topside easier for their people was desperately needed, and the Dark Forest could not be a more perfect ally, no matter if the nature of the allyship was platonic or … anything else.

Perhaps it was that Ravion was left completely in the dark that led to this...ever-present discontent. He had no way of knowing that his imagined scenario was actually happening, and Indris’s lack of desire to tell him aggravated the pervasive feeling that he was being left on the outskirts of something significant.

More than that, Indris had never left him out like this before. Never intentionally, at least. He certainly never left him out in favor of telling a stranger everything instead. And, yes, Eironn was a stranger to Indris – at least compared to Ravion. No, especially compared to Ravion. It was irritating how easily Indris seemed to pass him up for the blond scion at every chance he got, for days at a time, even.

Ravion all but chewed through his cheeks as he watched the scion corral Sal’thorin’s hero towards the metal carriage that took them to the surface, where sunlight as golden as the boy’s hair awaited them. Xera stood to the left of Ravion, chattering on and on about useless drivel and even more useless reports that awaited him, chatter that went through one ear and out the other. Part of Ravion wanted to follow them. Shoulder his way into their little date (Ravion scowled at the thought) and find out what exactly it was about Misarte’s boy that had Indris on a hook like this – and why it seemed that he was turning his back on Ravion and the people of Sal’thorin in favor of him. He knew there’d be no point in doing so. He’d only serve to further ruin Indris’s mood with his presence.

Indris smiled at something the scion said – a slight thing, one easily overwhelmed by the toothy grin of Zanie or even the quiet amusement of Magister Merlin, and yet it had the effect of a punch to the gut in Ravion. Indris never smiled at anyone. He rarely smiled at Ravion – and here was the kind and beautiful Eironn, bringing it out of him in no time at all.

Ravion’s stomach churned. He quickly turned on his heel, disrupting Xera in the middle of her lectures. “Come, Xera, we have work to do.” Ravion gritted his teeth, hardly waiting for her response before storming off, away from the hero and the scion.

The worst part was that Ravion had no one to blame but himself—a conclusion he came to in one of the evenings he spent burning the midnight oil and pacing circles in the drawing room, alone.

He hadn’t really considered the loss of Indris until suddenly it was there, an open wound in his chest and space in the chair where he used to sit on the nights Ravion sought his idle company. He found himself actually missing the captain's nagging, the back-and-forth chatter that offered some brightness in this dark and dreary place. Indris had brought solace that even if he was a caged canary singing in the deepest pits of a dwarven mine, there was at least someone by his side to hear the song. And now he didn’t even have that – only the chilling realization that his coal miner was off chasing other canaries above ground, where their lungs weren’t polluted by soot.

He should never have sent Indris to the surface if this was what it would lead to.

If only I’d known, Ravion chided himself sardonically, I could have had him a bit longer if I’d kept him away from the sun’s embrace.

He had to be honest with himself. There was nothing to hold onto, for Indris was never truly his. It was hardly the fault of the hero that he was unable to choose Ravion over anything – or anyone – else. Standing next to the golden, righteous ray of sunlight that was Eironn, who was Ravion, really, by comparison? The bitter fruit from his mother’s withered branches, who’d never known anything else but darkness and was incapable of creating anything but darkness. Ravion always knew he could never compare to the sun. It didn’t hurt any less to have that truth play out before his very eyes. He thought...well, he didn’t know what he thought Indris would see in him. Maybe someone to share a bit of his light with, although clearly that was asking for too much.

Ravion sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He needed to get a grip. It’s not as if Indris gave him any reason to expect more from him. It's just... well, he thought he’d earned it, didn’t he? He thought he’d put in the work worming his way into the chinks of Indris’s armor. Ravion foolishly believed he deserved more than to watch someone else reap the benefits of Indris’s softened heart.

With a resigned sigh, Ravion passed his thumb and index over his tongue, reaching out to snuff the lone lit candle in his room – when suddenly he heard a knock at the door.

It took an embarrassing amount of time for Ravion to react. He just sat there, hand poised over the flickering flame and eyes locked onto the door. He tried to remember the last person he recalled giving the address to this particular estate, one of the few he had to the name that he considered completely secure. The Magister? No, they hadn’t been in Sal’thorin for some time now. Xera? No, she was far too responsible to be up at this hour.

….Indris?

No.

Another set of knocks; quieter this time, as if the person had lost a bit of confidence in themselves to disturb him. With great hesitation, Ravion bundled his thin robe over his chest and crept out of his office and towards the empty foyer, wincing at the chill spreading through his bare feet from the cold stone floor. He cringed inwardly at the thought of receiving an unexpected guest in such an...unkempt state, but for the life of him, he didn’t care enough to make himself look presentable before opening the door. After all, anyone who arrived at anyone’s door at this hour had to be certifiably audacious -

Ravion stood frozen in the open doorway, staring at the man on his doorstep. An unexpected guest, the runaway dog, was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest like he was the inconvenienced one.

Indris stood on his doorstep, shuffling nervously in place before Ravion announced himself. He was dressed simply tonight, a thick dark cloak blanketing his shoulders and billowing around his feet. He wore no armor, just a plain white shirt and dark trousers. Behind him, the spores and moss in Ravion’s garden glowed a faint blue-ish green, letting him know exactly how much of his evening he’d lost by spoiling his mood over the hero and the scion. The thought of losing precious hours of sleep over those two filled his chest with a prickling irritation.

“...Finally remembered I exist, have you?” Ravion drawled. The white haired man’s brows drew together into a sour expression, put off by Ravion’s vitriolic greeting. As quickly as Indris’s irritation appeared, it was replaced with that familiar stony mask just as quickly.

That, too, irritated Ravion. 

“We don’t have much time to waste, Ravion,” Indris stated in his usual urgency, like the world was always on the verge of tipping onto its head. Maybe in the past, that’d be Ravion’s cue to poke fun at the man, smoothing down the notion that the world would break apart if he didn’t act immediately. But he was in no such mood to assuage Indris’ worries – if, of course, he had any at all, if that scion hadn’t dispelled the last bit of Indris he could have kept for himself. He reached for Ravion’s arm that hung lame at his side, still speaking in that urgent tone, “Get dressed and come with me.”

The tip of Indris’ fingers grazed the crook of Ravion’s elbow, and he jerked his arm away like a kicked pet might flinch away from his owner. Through this slight touch, though, Ravion could feel how cold Indris’s hands were against that patch of skin, even through the sleeve of his robe. He must have been out all night with Eironn, Ravion thought, his mouth taking on the taste of bile and the inexplicable urge to tear the world apart with his bare hands spreading through his chest with a prickling heat.

“You seem so sure that I'll let you take me wherever you please.” Ravion sneered, lips pulled back from his teeth in a halfway smile, halfway snarl, “I'm not a dog, Indris. I will not blindly follow you.”

“Surely you're not serious.” Indris blinked hard, unable to believe that there would be a day when Ravion would look at him the way he was. It startled him, and Ravion took great pleasure in throwing him off balance.

Really, what was wrong with this man? Only Indris would have the audacity to blow him off for so long and still be confused when Ravion lashed out in response. All that time with the golden boy on the surface had to have scrambled his brain; it was the only thing that made sense to Ravion.

“Yes, you think everything I say is part of one elaborate game, don’t you?” Ravion crossed his arms tight over his chest, the chill of the outdoors settling into his skin. “Well, I couldn’t be more serious. I don’t wish to see you tonight, Captain.”

Realization seemed to strike the man like lightning, accompanied by a dawning look of horror behind his usually steely violet eyes. “You’re upset with me,” he uttered, notably lacking in remorse. He said it how he said all things – plain and matter of fact, even touched with surprise, of all things. In matters of feelings, Ravion should have known better than to get upset at Indris’s blunders, the way he could trample all over one’s feelings and still make them feel foolish for having them in the first place, even feel foolish for blaming him in the first place, because he never knew any better. It was this very thing that enraged Ravion now.

How dare Indris discard him like he was nothing? How dare he make a fool of him? How dare he not even be sorry?

“Really! How could you tell? An unfeeling brute like you, I was sure I’d have to spell it out for you.” Ravion gritted through his teeth, injecting as much of the ugliness and venom he could muster into his words.

Neither Ravion nor Indris said anything for a while. Indris’ face crumpled, a hurt expression twisting his features that stood as a warning sign that maybe, just maybe, Ravion was going too far. That the wound he was digging his thumb into had begun to bleed. For a second, his heart faltered, the anger he was riding on tripping over itself. Unfortunately, he was in too deep to stop himself.

“Out with it then. What is so important that you’d show up now?”

Indris opened his mouth, then closed it, the surety Ravion had seen in him evaporating in a single breath. “I...I wanted to show you something.” Indris admitted mournfully, his shoulders slumped, and brows tilted downward into a downright pitiful look, successfully taking all the wind out of Ravion’s sails and leaving him feeling utterly shameful, and then upset all over again at how easy it was to forget his rage when it came to Indris. It was pathetic, Ravion was pathetic.

“Is it urgent?” He asked in resignation. Indris straightened instantly, that nervous look appearing again.

“To me, yes, but if you mean objectively, then -”

Ravion began to close the door.

“Ravion.”Indris’s hand shot out, gripping the door and rendering Ravion physically unable to close it any further. His eyes were wide, softened in a way Ravion didn’t know he was capable of. “...Please?”

Ravion’s pride screamed at him not to give in. It was just the perfect opportunity, wasn’t it? He could put his foot down, make it clear to Indris that he was not a person to be trampled over. He was capable of far worse than petty cruelty, and it’d be no skin off his nose if he hurt Indris at this point. Didn’t he deserve it, after all he’d done to him? After abandoning him?

“...Give me a moment to change.” He grumbled, stepping backwards into his home and shutting the door with a heavy slam.

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It was rare to see much life in the city after evening fell upon it. With only the bustling noises of the nocturnal wildlife that encased the stony city, Sal'thorin lay in peaceful slumber, the silence that blanketed the cobbled streets broken only by the pair of rulers that tread through them.

Ravion and Indris hadn't said much of anything to each other since they left his estate. Where normally Indris would walk in stride with Ravion, tonight Ravion walked two paces behind him and silently allowed himself to be led wherever Indris was taking him. Every so often, Indris would cast a woeful glance over his shoulder, checking to make sure Ravion hadn’t remembered his anger and slipped away while he wasn’t looking. And every time, the dour look would soften, and he’d turn back around, his fingers flexing open and closed at his side. He was wary of Ravion. Worried in a way that Indris had refused to admit to, never mind explain why.

How...confounding. Indris was the one in the wrong, so what sense did it make that Ravion was the one feeling remorseful? Of course, Ravion had no right to lash out at either Indris or Misarte's Scion but really, the whole thing would have been avoided from the start if Indris had been more forthcoming, rather than running around trying to hide this...whatever it was that he had with Eironn.

Maybe this is what this unusual outing is for, Ravion wondered, worrying the bottom of his lip. Maybe this is him attempting to break the news to him – news of his new darling, the surface dweller come to unite the lowly Sal’thorin and the ever-righteous Dark Forest, news that Ravion’s company would no longer be required – or permitted. Ravion’s heart twisted.

“Careful.” Indris’s voice broke through his thoughts, his hand gripping Ravion’s forearm and yanking him away from the rocky ledge of the unfamiliar dwarves cave before he could topple off the edge. Ravion lurched back, knocking his shoulder into Indris’ chest – somehow, without his noticing, the two ended up swapping places. He peered at Indris, whose face was pinched into a rather endearing look of worry.

“Apologies. I wasn’t paying attention.” Ravion cleared his throat, turning away from Indris with flushed cheeks. If the white haired captain had a response, he didn’t speak it. Beside him, the ground crunched and scraped underneath Indris’ heel as he turned back to the path. Though Ravion didn’t receive a verbal acknowledgment, he never lost Indris’s touch – something he didn’t notice until he was dragged away from the ledge by the man’s uncannily strong grasp. His fingers hooked on the end of his elbow and slid down until they were dancing around the thin length of Ravion’s wrist. He waited for Indris to venture further, for him to reach until their fingers interlocked, but the moment never came. Instead, Indris cast him a single tired glance before his stony mask locked back into place.

“We should be arriving soon. Stay close.” Indris said, too soft to count as a command but firm enough that Ravion couldn’t argue.

With that, Indris tugged him along, into the final passages of the dark, unfamiliar cave. Ravion surveyed their surroundings. He didn’t feel any closer to wherever it was they were going. It was dark since they left Sal’thorin, and they didn’t have the churning magma of the Ember Mine illuminating their way, only the sparse and occasionally lit torches nailed to the walls. Ravion picked up on the sound of crunching dirt and stone, but also… dripping water and...animal noises? Too far off to discern, but present and much more lively than he was used to hearing in the wilderness around the city.

Ravion was gripped with the sudden and sinking knowledge that he wasn’t being led just anywhere.

Indris was taking him to the surface.

Ravion stopped, twisting his arm so he was grabbing Indris in return. The captain looked back at him, tilting his head in an unspoken question. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a while. The two stood in silence, Ravion’s fingers digging into Indris’s arm.

“...Why now?” Ravion whispered, the words reverberating through the cavernous passage. In the distance, he could see a faint light from what must be the open mouth of the tunnel that would lead to the brilliant and bold surface dwell of Esperia. His curiosity began to swell within his chest, but he waited for Indris to explain why. Why couldn’t he have simply brought Ravion with him and Eironn, why this one trip worth leaving him alone for days at a time?

A chill settled in Ravion’s chest as he waited for Indris to betray himself, and he realized that he couldn’t read Indris at all. How? How could he not know what Indris is thinking?

Indris turned away from him, facing that dim light in the distance. “You’ll know soon enough.” He said, soft and tepid.

So he walked, and Ravion followed, chasing his friend into this unfamiliar world he’d only ever heard about in stories. The gravel beneath their shoes turned into soft grass, and the moist air of the dreary cave took on a sweetness in every gasping breath Ravion took. Stone and root seemed to meld together into one harmonious canvas. Above their heads, foliage twisted and tangled together under the endless expanse of sky, craning their branches up to the heavens like children’s hands reaching for the mobile above their earthly crib. The sky was dark, cradling a pale and prim celestial body in its endless expanse.

It was beautiful, but...

“Is this the sun? It looks different from the Magister’s descriptions.”

Unfastening the clasps of his cloak, Indris averted his gaze from Ravion's face, sweeping those violet eyes on the grassy expanse beneath their feet. “The sun would hurt your eyes.” He murmured. “This is the moon.” Ravion startled at that. He hadn’t thought of the sun as being capable of hurting people. Everyone who’d spoken of the surface during the day only came back with nothing short of glowing reviews, going on and on about how beautiful it was, how bright it was. Now that he was up here himself, he could acknowledge the celestial body in the sky was still beautiful, still bright (brighter than Sal’thorin, that is), but also calm. Gentle.

Indris took his cloak and flicked his hands out until the fabric covered a patch of the dew-clung grass near the edge of the cliff. He plopped himself down on top, crossing his legs awkwardly while fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeve. Standing over him, Ravion noticed how the moon’s light caught in the paleness of Indris’s hair and skin, making him almost glow in the face of the shadow Ravion cast over his figure. Indris was always quite beautiful like this; his ability to capture and emit pure light was one of his best qualities, one of the many that made Ravion feel small by comparison.

“Would you sit? You’re making me nervous.” Indris blurted, his ears and neck beginning to flush a bright pink as he looked up at his friend. Ravion smiled instinctively, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head.

“You? Nervous? I never thought I’d see the day you -”

“Enough. Just,” Indris’s hand shot out, yanking the prince down by the wrist, “Sit with me.”

Ravion stumbled, falling rather ungracefully onto Indris’s cloak, nearly falling on Indris himself with a muffled and inelegant grunt. He leaned heavily against the captain in an attempt to steady himself, and noticed at once the warmth radiating off of Indris, felt even through the two layers of cloth that separated his flesh from Ravion’s. He hadn’t been in the state to notice it before, when Indris’s hand clutched at his arm, but now that heat covered him all over, holding the night’s chill at bay. Ravion considered sinking into it, soaking up the warmth like a reptile on a warm stone.

Dangerous, dangerous desire that jolted Ravion back into his body, and sent him hurtling away from a bewildered Indris. Heart thrumming in his chest, Ravion began to curl in on himself, cursing Indris silently for not bringing a long enough cloak to allow him further distance.

Taking a deep breath, Ravion turned his eyes up. The moon was bright and round against the dark backdrop of the heavens. The stars glittered like jewels where they freckled the canvas of the sky.

“The moon is quite beautiful. Does it always look like this?” Ravion pondered aloud, resting his chin on his knees. Beside him, he could hear the soft rustle of Indris’s hair against the collar of his shirt as he tilted his head up to the sky.

“No, not always. It's only once every month, at least that’s what Eironn and Magister Merlin have said.”

Once every month. A flash in the pan opportunity, seeing this celestial in its fullness. Ravion thought back to when Indris first began to avoid him. When was it? Shortly after the curse was lifted, some time last...

A tiny, breathless laugh escaped Ravion, eyes fixed to the moon, for he couldn’t bear to face Indris and not fall headfirst into something terrifying. “All this time you’ve been away, it was for this.” He said thoughtfully, grip tightening on his legs. The final piece clicked into place, and suddenly, Ravion felt as though he could’ve wept.

He hadn’t been replaced. But he certainly had been cruel.

Oh, how undeserving I am of you.

Indris was quiet for some time, quietly gathering his thoughts like he was wont to do. Ravion could practically see his face, the tenseness around his mouth, and the darting of his violet eyes as he tried to sort his words into the most effective order. Ravion loved to watch him like this. Even now, when he couldn’t stomach the thought of laying eyes upon him, he still yearned for the familiarity in studying that face he knew so well.

“...I thought about what you said. How light burns those who spent their lives in the shadows. I thought of my first experience on the surface and how...blinding the surface world seemed at first. The sun is beautiful, yes, but simple. An imperious, omniscient presence that basks and burns in the same breath. But the stars, the moon – mages dedicate their whole lives to deciphering them, but for the average surface dweller, it’s a light to guide them home in the dark, or simply a beautiful thing to look at.” Indris mused quietly, drawing out each word deliberately, “Still, I could only think of you. What you’d want. What you’d like. How bright the sun would be and how it could hurt you.”

Ravion could hear rustling again, could feel Indris’s eyes on him.

“I could never hurt you.”

Indris, you know just the way to make things worse, Ravion thought with despair.

He felt so unbelievably foolish, thinking of Indris as the kind of man even capable of hurting him intentionally. Indris would always remain the same as he was – a steady ray of light, too bright and too warm for a terrible creature like Ravion to ever be worthy of.

“And here I thought you’d finally grown tired of me,” he said sardonically, feeling more miserable and unworthy than before.

Indris chuckled – scoffed, more like, as if the sentiment was so absurd. So absurd, even, that Indris didn’t dignify it with a response. Instead, he moved closer, the heat off of his skin returning like a scalding blaze. Ravion tensed, wanting very much to lean away but wanting even more to lean in. Ravion brought his eyes down from that beautiful moon to the blades of grass below their feet, swaying in the gentle nighttime breeze.

“I...I could’ve killed him, the scion.” Ravion finally continued, his voice ruined and raw with tears he hadn’t realized he was storing within himself. “For taking you away from me. I could’ve killed him.”

An ugly confession – the only thing Ravion was capable of saying, for he lacked the compassion that seemed to alienate him even more from the likes of Indris – something that seemed so innate to Indris and Eironn.

This was only proven further by the sudden alarm in Indris’s voice, the heaviness in his palm as he rested it over Ravion’s nearest hand. “If you’re upset, be upset with me, not with Eironn,” the savior warned him. Ravion smiled at that, his heart wrenching further in his chest. Yes, this is only how they could be.

“Upset with you? You’re not listening, Indris...I could never hurt you.” Ravion said with a sigh, one that would typically be tinged with melodrama but now only seemed drenched in melancholy, “Resent you, maybe...but never hurt you.”

Nothing ever worked out that way, though.

“...I hurt you anyway. I was so angry, Indris. More than I could bear. More than you deserved to bear.”

Ravion remembered the shattered look in Indris’s eyes as he stood on his doorstep, the anxiety that wracked his frame during the whole journey here. Try as he might, Ravion always fell short of compassion when it mattered the most.

He took a shaky inhale, curling his hands into a fist under Indris’s warm fingers. “And it wasn’t his fault. Why would it be? His only crime was being everything anyone – everything you could ever want.”

Ravion pulled his hand away. Or he tried.

Indris wouldn’t let him go.

“You seem so sure of what I want,” Indris said.

“Of course I am, Indris, I know you.” Ravion turned to Indris, his expression crumpling into an ugly, wounded thing as the truth began to spill out. Indris’s eyes widened, a flurry of emotions Ravion hadn’t the mind to parse in the state he was in. “You deserve the best that the world has to offer; the sun, the moon, all of it. I know that I have nothing I can offer you, not like he can. I can’t compete with the sun, Indris. You need more than my envy and my cruelty."

You need more than the moon.

“You need more than -”

He slipped. No, he was falling – pushed, or rather pulled, into Indris’s embrace. Ravion gasped, reeling back, but found that he couldn’t move – could hardly breathe when Indris kissed him.

The world could have ended right then, that second, and Ravion wouldn’t have cared in the slightest. Indris’s lips, like the rest of him, were warm and slightly rough against his. He curved his fingers along the back of Ravion’s neck, tangling in his hair like roots intertwining in the earth. There was no running from Indris, no hiding. All Ravion could do was wrap his arms around the man’s shoulders and bring himself impossibly closer. All he could hope was that Indris would take those shadowy parts of him and bathe them in his redeeming light.

Ravion was eclipsed, his shadows overtaken and overwhelmed by the depths of Indris’s love.

“I don’t want the sun,” Indris murmured, trailing his lips over Ravion’s thrumming pulse.

“I want you. Only you.”

That night, under the blinking stars and the gentle moon, Ravion took what he was always meant to have.