No answer, not immediately. Just silence. Soon, however, it is followed by the softest of sighs that nonetheless shatters the utter silence in the room. The kind of sigh which weighs a lifetime despite being so feather-light, released at a question that he had in some parts not wanted to hear.

Or perhaps, at least not hear right now, with the answer still tight around his throat like a vice.

Slowly, delicately, the figure in the midst of the pile begins to push himself upwards, but just a bit. Ignis takes care first to pull Noctis and Prompto closer together, bends close over Gladio. Even with the words whispered against the man's ear, Ravus my overhear them regardless: "I'm just getting up for a bit of tea, love, and to pour Ravus a cup as well. I'll be back to bed soon. I won't leave you."

Not without his hands made bloody from the effort of trying to stay.

From there, he carefully extracts himself from the pile, going over Gladio through the blankets rather than navigating the mess which is Noctis and Prompto tangled together. When he finally pulls out, he takes a moment to adjust the blankets. Make sure the warmth doesn't leave them, even if he must just for a moment.

And with that.... A short, quick, commanding gesture to Ravus to follow him out of the room, his own steps dead silent against the wood as he pads over to the door.

He may as well make this not quite a lie, and so Ignis heads back downstairs. Doesn't speak a single thing until they've made it to the bottom, where he can stoke the hearth back into something once more, and fetch the teapot. With so much time passed, it might almost seem like he won't answer Ravus's question...

But he does. Quiet, and coiled tight in his throat. "The end of the prophecy."

Just what it means to be a chosen king.