"It would have certainly put you in her most esteemed graces," he says it with certainty, because he knows. Thinks he knows... hopes he does. After a moment, there's a dawning hesitance that chases his words. One that he tries to hide the sting of. He'll blame it on the exhaustion, and not the doubt that holds sway on his thoughts. "I believe, anyway. Unfounded accusations, as you say."

There'd never been a chance for anyone to earn that approval from his sister. Ravus had made sure of it. From pushing Lunafreya herself away to protect her, to entangling himself so deep in the thorns of the Empire that he could never pick the barbs free long enough to know someone half as decent as Gladio. More than that though, there's something about this persistence, about tracking him down like a hunter. It's the ability to do something about it. And even if it couldn't be done, the attempt would be there. Inaction doesn't much speak to either of them, Ravus thinks.

He pulls himself together long enough to swallow the lump in his throat.

"But I knew her, and I knew the measure of her heart. I think she would have loved the depth of yours."