Your Divinity Eternal

by daoguang_yongheng (antsinabox)

Summary:

The opera has drawn to a close. Focalors is dead - the Hydro Archon is no more. And Furina has left the stage, leaving a barren theatre where an adoring audience once cheered.

Neuvillette alone remains. If he should be the only worshipper left at the altar, so be it.

Notes:

i'm a staunch believer in the fact that focalors and furina are not two separate entities, they are simply two halves of the archon, focalors the divinity and furina the humanity. that being said furina is superior and definitely the one neuv is actually in love with, but i still consider focallette/neuvifuri interchangeable names

i got furina and baizhu's weapons right after each other in a ten pull while writing this so further proof that furina is the specialest gorgeousest bestest girl of all time!!!

this takes place after the 4.2 archon quest but before furi's story quest!!!

Chapter 1: Neuvillette, Alone

Neuvillette had been dreaming as of late.

He didn't have much need for sleep. But, these past few weeks, as that void by his side made itself more and more known - he found himself closing his eyes and losing himself in thought. If he couldn't feel that familiar presence in the waking world, he could only sleep to find it.

It wasn't ideal. More often than not, his dreams were incoherent; half the time, he didn't remember them when he woke. But, every now and then, he found what he was looking for; he'd find himself having tea, or watching a play. Not alone, as he had been ever since the waters had receded, but with his Archon by his side.

His Archon. That was wrong, wasn't it? Furina had never possessed the Gnosis. But, when he tested the title on that thought-to-be-familiar name - it felt wrong.

He relived that scene in his dreams, too. These were the worst to find himself in when he fell asleep. He stood there in that liminal space between courtroom and Celestia, and watched - over and over - as Focalors imparted the truth upon him, and executed herself.

But it never quite played out the same way. Focalors had been possessed of a face he found familiar, but of completely the wrong disposition. In this dream, however - the divine robes melted into a familiar blue uniform, and the halo into a mundane hat.

Focalors had danced, and the steps had been familiar. He'd watched Furina dance like that before - watched her rehearse for this performance and not even known it. Perhaps Furina herself hadn't, either; she was only following the script given to her, just as she had done without rest for the last five hundred years. She knew the steps without being taught. After all, they had been carved into her mortal body, just as she had been inscribed with false divinity.

"You are a devious one, Focalors," He'd muttered when it happened, feet rooted to the ground. A rueful frown on his face, perhaps a distant tremor to his voice. Those eyes were so familiar. A god he thought he'd known, and yet only met for a fleeting moment - a fleeting presence that left only faint regret behind.

But, when he dreamt, he choked. He moved senselessly, stumbling forward as if he could somehow force the blade to retreat. When he attempted to speak, air forced itself into his lungs in horrible, sharp shards, and if he could drown the breath out of himself, he would - anything to wake himself up, to remind himself this was not real, that Focalors was the one who had died, not-

"Furina! NO....!'"

She would have done it, too. Perhaps this was the worst part. Had Furina thought it necessary, he had no doubt that she would have taken Focalors' place beneath the blade.

Furina loved the people of Fontaine. Focalors had, too, but it was Furina's humanity that made her love all the more enduring. How else would she have pushed through that five hundred years?

"It's all so unfair for poor Furina," Paimon had sighed when he told the Traveller the story.

Unfair. Yes, that was what it was. Focalors had it easy - all she had to do was wait, and then take the easy way out, leaving Furina to act as a scapegoat for that half-millennium of silence. Even now, many Fontainians were convinced their 'Archon' had never done a thing for them after all.

Focalors split herself - gave Furina all the humanity, and kept the divinity for herself. She'd given her the ability to feel, and so condemned her to years of interminable solitude in an endless performance.

Humans felt loneliness far more keenly than a god did. Perhaps that was why Neuvillette had felt so numb when he first watched the Hydro Archon die. To know all she had suffered in all the time he'd known her - to know he had been so close, and yet so unknowing as to be useless. Could he have done something, had he known? Could he have helped soothe that aching void inside her?

In his dream, watching it happen all over again, this time with his Archon's head beneath the blade, he crumbled. Focalors hadn't bled when she died, but Furina did - crimson flooding the marble floors, blue creeping from the cracks and bubbling up into the cold air. All was a blur; all was meaningless. The rain came down in unforgiving sheets as he rose - high, high above the nation Furina loved so dearly. He stared into that unforgiving grey deep and he turned his head to the sky and howled.

Not guilty. Gods, not guilty. How could I ever have thought otherwise?

He had spent so long trying to understand human emotion. Ironic that a dream, of all things, would teach him grief.

Neuvillette had this dream more often than he would have liked. He couldn't decide whether it was better than nothing - whether he'd prefer not to see her at all, or at least be able to drink in her face one final time before the execution ran its course.

When he woke, he usually found a storm outside his window. It hadn't quite stopped raining ever since he'd let Furina walk away. The Traveller had even come to him with concerns as to the constant drizzling - and the more-than-occasional furious downpour.

He found himself replaying that damn trial in his head, over and over and over again. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but he knew coddling would help no one; Fontaine was in danger, and he couldn't allow its people to be lost. In complete ignorance of the truth - if he'd given in to doubt any sooner, revealed Furina's secret before Focalors had had enough time, he would have doomed them all.

Neuvillette had never seen Furina sob like that before. She'd begged her people to believe her, touched Primordial Seawater just to keep up the lie - so determined to see things through and save her nation that she didn't even care if she'd dissolve then. What if they hadn't diluted it? What if Furina had died before him there and then?

He shouldn't have approved using it in the first place. His attempts to persuade her to stand down had been fruitless, and when Furina placed her hand in that basin, he'd felt fear - true fear for the very first time, a jerk in his chest and a scrambled hammer to his heart. It was just as well Sigewinne hadn't been close enough to check him, too. Hyperventilation, flushed skin... he was sure he presented the very same symptoms.

It had all been a farce to begin with. He'd promised himself to shut off his heart as soon as he took his seat, to preside over everything with exact impartiality. When Furina had begged for someone, anyone to have faith in her - he turned away, too.

And so he had finally learnt shame. Neuvillette, even now, couldn't fathom it. He was her most devout follower, so why...?

He'd only been a little surprised when the Traveller first made their accusation - when the crime for which Furina would stand trial would finally decided. Even then, when he himself had declared her guilty, calm as ever on the surface, it felt like his world had come crashing down around him. When the Oratrice called for the Hydro Archon's death, it had shattered further. No. No. This wasn't meant to happen. The Archon cannot- Furina cannot-

The idea that Furina, his Archon, would lie to him for all these years had hurt enough to allow him to maintain his cold demeanour - but then the doubt had been replaced by ice-cold horror. To disobey the Oratrice was unthinkable, and yet he had been prepared to crush it to pieces then and there.

...but what did any of this matter? Furina was gone, anyway.

He'd returned to the Palais Mermonia to find her rooms in disarray. Furina had taken what little she considered necessary, and left.

He understood. Really, he did. Furina had playing in a torturous opera since she had been created. There would be no curtain calls; she deserved to rest now.

Neuvillette wished he had the Traveller's empathy, or Clorinde's blunt sincerity, or even Wriothesley's good-natured wit. If he had a softer tongue, knew how to worship with anything but his thoughts, he might have convinced her to stay. Instead, all he'd done was tie up the loose ends - tell her Focalors' plan, and what her last words to her had been.

Furina hadn't responded. She simply took a deep breath, face blank, and said - "I'm leaving now, Monsieur. I am tired."

"Where will you go?" He'd asked.

"I don't know. Anywhere that isn't here." She turned away. She hadn't looked him in the eye since the trial - since he had turned away from her. "...goodbye."

"We will provide anything you need," He found himself saying. Let me share in your grief. Let me hold you in your pain.

"Food, housing, clothing - we'll pay for it." I will be here, always.

"And your rooms will remain available to you, should you ever want to use them." Promise you'll come back.

Furina paused for a long moment. She'd removed her hat, and her uniform was dishevelled. And yet she still looked every inch the goddess he had devoted himself to for all these years.

"...thank you," She said, and walked away. He hadn't seen her since.

Furina had left most of her things, and many of them had gradually been migrating to Neuvillette's own quarters. He took something each time he found himself wandering through her rooms again; they'd already begun to take over the desk in his room.

He'd spent countless hours worrying about her already. Where was she living? Was she eating well? Was she sleeping sufficiently?

There were many who'd expressed a longing to see their Archon again. Others were still angry, still grieving - and many looked upon their once-god with suspicion and derision.

It was all so unfair. Neuvillette had never been a performer, but now he wanted to take to the stage himself, and shout it across the nation, loud enough for even Celestia to hear - be grateful! Be grateful that she loved you so much! Be grateful that she burdened herself for all these years, never to confide her pain in a single soul, all to save you! Be grateful for those nights she spent alone, never allowing herself to falter, always, always, always putting you all first!

Be grateful that she loved you so dearly! Be grateful that I loved her for long enough to learn to love you as well! Be grateful that she concealed the truth so perfectly for so long - or else I would have happily let you all drown to save her!

Fontaine had adored her. Was she still not the Furina who'd stood by them all these years? Was she still not their Archon, godliness be damned? Would he be the only one left to revere her now?

Who was Focalors, but a puppetmaster lying in wait? Furina may not have been able to manipulate the tides - that was fine. He could command the very oceans to settle for her. None loved the Hydro Archon as fiercely as the Hydro Dragon, after all.

In her absence, all was bitter. The constant rain was beginning to grow heavier by the day. People were complaining - they'd survived the prophetic flood, only to be drowned by measly storms in the end!

Neuvillette didn't care. They were all alive, and that was enough. If Furina, in all her humanity, could endure all she had, they could put up with some rain.

Furina had no command over water. Even so, he found himself whispering into the rain, hoping against all hope that she might find it in her heart to forgive him.

"My Furina, if you ever hear me - I will wait for you as long as it takes."

"For as long as the moon waxes and wanes, like a tide to the shore, I will always return to you."

 

Notes:

it's a personal hc (but also i'm right) that neuvillette looks so grieved by focalors guillotining herself because he sees furina in her. while they are not the exact same being they are still inextricably linked, so his perception of focalors is painted with same brush as his love for furina

so how about that finale quest huh.... hoyo always sets up a really good story in the trailer and then doesn't follow through?? even if they HAD to keep in the whole 'focalors is this other consciousness' thing, at least don't make the shot of furina's hat falling a cop-out... part of me was expecting focalors's deception to involve having furina die in her stead somehow, or else for furina to come in and insist on making the sacrifice herself. and it's just a shame they didn't at least give her some special effects like the other archons do in menus and stuff (bc as far as i'm concerned her strength and love for fontaine MAKES her an archon even without godly power)

anyway this will have two parts because i do want to bring neuvi and furi back together, but it felt like it made more sense to put that in a separate chapter. should be done in the next few days :]!!

Chapter 2: The Iudex, Disturbed

Notes:

i know i said neuvifuri would reunite in part 2 but every time i remember what they did to furina in that trial i get even angrier. logically i know they thought it was necessary or whatever but it was just so cruel i UGH

anyway this chap is just a little bit more catharsis for me so neuvi gets to be extra irrationally angry, as a treat

The rain still hadn't stopped - if anything, it was getting worse. Fontaine hadn't been truly dry since the flood; first had been the matter of getting the water out of all the nooks and crannies it had seeped into, and even after that, it was well-known across the nation now that one could not leave the house without getting damp.

Though it did little to quench their spirits, as delighted as they all were to have not been dissolved. Neuvillette supposed he admired them for that.

Or he would have, at least, were any rays of sunlight able to pierce the dark clouds over his head at the moment. With none privy to the depths of his mourning, none could understand why the Chief Justice seemed so consistently to be in a foul mood as of late. They put it down to the bad weather.

Neuvillette had long since been at odds with the dragon within. It had spent four centuries content to lie in repose, and so he had been at peace. Then it had woken on Focalors' execution, sniffing the air and purring in satisfaction as its rightful power was restored - but it had been a bitterly received gift. Even as the dragon revelled, he felt little but distant heartache.

But with that draconic glory came something else, too. He found himself inexplicably quick to anger - the dragon stirring in his chest and breaking into a snarl at a moment's notice. Perhaps it would have frightened him, had the rage not felt so... cleansing.

Seeing things through true dragon's eyes made everything seem new. It was as if he'd spent all these centuries underwater, and had only now broken the surface. Feelings came with such sharper clarity - and threw the all mistakes of his past into sharp relief.

Did Furina even know? The question had been ringing in the back of his head for weeks now. It struck him now that his words had not always been kind, that he had not always been patient - did she know how endlessly, hopelessly devoted he had always been? Did she know of the place she carved in his chest, as inextricably part of him as the dragon inside?

Perhaps even he hadn't known. He'd always acted without thinking before. It was only now that he was whole that he could feel that tear-shaped core of his beating heart.

He'd spent so many years below water, unable to understand who he truly was. Through it all, Furina had been his only constant, his only true companion; so different to him in outlook and attitude that it had sometimes felt like they'd never get along, and yet so unyieldingly present that, at the end of the day, he could not imagine a life without her.

Furina was essential to him. It was only with his dragonhood restored and all his memories in sharp clarity that he understood this. And yet he could still do nothing about it.

I have wronged you, he'd tested, but the words felt so inadequate beside the injustice that they became insulting.

I beg of you, forgive me, he'd tried, but couldn't conjure the strength to say it.

I miss you, he'd thought, but could only scold himself for his selfishness.

Perhaps this was why his temper had been so short as of late. He had yet to truly explode, but the near-constant storms still hadn't ceased. Day after day, night after night, he would dream, regret, and rage. Over and over, until it became exhausting, and still he did not know how to go on.

It was unbearable. He'd internalised human emotion over the years; he could feel petty frustration and simple joy, could empathise with a widow's grief and a child's excitement, but the ability to console still evaded him. He was human enough for the sorrow to sink its teeth in 'til he bled at the soul - but not human enough to know how to reach out, to make her understand how deep his adoration ran.

And so the ache in his chest grew.

 

---

 

When the Traveller and their fairy companion dropped by his office, remarking that the weather lately had been awful and he really should take a break, he accepted their invitation without thinking. He needed to clear his head, anyway. It was beginning to feel near-comedic to be doing something as mundane as paperwork with a mind as volatile as his had been as of late.

To be honest, he wasn't listening to a word either the Traveller or Paimon said as he followed them out of the city. They had passed by the marketplace on their way there, and he was quite occupied with whether or not the flash of blue he'd spotted by the fruit stand belonged to who he thought it did.

He felt rather placid as he followed them along the shore, watching for the sparkle of dew in the grass and listening for the splashing of his boots in puddles. The scent of Petrichor was rich on the air, and while the sky wasn't quite clear, the weather was drier than it had been for a while. And, while he couldn't tear his mind from the matter entirely, he found himself able to contemplate his options with a much more rational mind than he'd had.

The Traveller might know what to do, he mused. They'd been sympathetic to Carole and Vautrin's plight before, and they'd told him of the performance they had witnessed in Furina's inner world. Surely they would sympathise?

He lifted his head to speak, then found with mild surprise that they had arrived at Poisson. And there, hurrying up to greet them, was Navia.

He felt himself shrink imperceptibly backwards as she greeted them, and was grateful that Paimon's extra-enthusiastic reply drowned out his lack of response. It wasn't that he disliked the Demoiselle - in fact, he found himself relatively at peace as he listened to her chat with the Traveller - but there was a memory all three of them shared that he had yet to kick. He had led the trial, yes, but they had prosecuted it. He found it prudent to remain silent, lest he let slip all that lightning brewing inside him. 

And then the conversation turned. The Traveller looked in the direction of the graveyard, and enquired, quietly, at to how Navia was holding up.

Ah, right. She'd lost two dear friends when the waters rose in Poisson. It was a shame - especially after the loss of her father. He ought to offer his condolences.

He opened his mouth to make an attempt, but cut himself off nearly immediately. In his brief lapse in thought, the Traveller had changed the topic yet again, and whose name should be on their lips, but the one name he would crush them for decrying?

The dragon in his chest stirred. He tried to control his breath, but it had already begun to sharpen its claws.

"Oh, yes, Miss Furina..." Navia fell silent for a while. "...how is she?"

The Traveller said that they had not spoken to her since the end of the flood, but that she was taking time away from life among the people. Navia nodded slowly, a small, thoughtful frown on her face.

"Well, let's hope she gets back on her feet soon," She sighed. "All's well that ends well, right? I've forgiven her by now."

The Traveller nodded, and Neuvillette fought the sudden, seething urge to seize them both by the throats. To throttle them, drown them, fill them with seawater until they knew the taste of tears just as well as she did - to wipe the self-satisfied smiles from their faces and scream, you are not the heroes, how dare you think it is you should forgive, you are not worthy to even think of her!

There was a rumble from overhead, and only Paimon seemed to realise what it meant - as Navia and the Traveller paused to comment on the sudden change in weather, she glanced at him, eyes wide with worry. If he strained enough, he could keep his expression impassive, but this he could not hold back. The sky was growing incandescent with rage.

"Oh, goodness, that isn't good." Navia fumbled for her missing umbrella for a moment, then sighed. "Nothing for it. Let's run!"

She hoisted her skirts and sprinted off, with the Traveller not far behind, both laughing. Only Paimon remained for a moment, and she was still looking at him furtively when she drifted off after them. He couldn't bring himself to appreciate her concern.

I should have let you dissolve, he thought, savagely - and, as if following his vitriol, a lightning bolt descended from the sky, missing the Demoiselle by mere inches.

She stumbled for a moment, shell-shocked, then shook it off and continued. Nevertheless (though he doubted she even knew it had happened), Neuvillette said a quiet thank you to the Electro Archon for her impeccable timing.

In their eagerness to escape the storm, both Navia and the Traveller seemed to have forgotten about him. Good. Let them not entertain for even a moment the idea that he might be their friend, not after what they'd done, the trial they had orchestrated—

—but was he not the judge who'd presided over it? Was he not the one who had suggested they take this to the opera house in the first place?

The thunder quietened. The downpour, however, continued.

Neuvillette was soaked to the bone within minutes. He couldn't bring himself to move, even as the water ran down his face and blurred his vision beyond acuity.

Furina, He thought as the storm continued, some naive part of him hoping that, somehow, the water would carry his voice to her. Please...

Please... what? What did he hope to achieve with this endless rain?

He turned and started on his way back to the city. The others surely wouldn't miss his company - he'd barely said a word to any of them, anyway.

He felt quite numb again. The fury had come in a red-hot flash, and then... nothing. It seemed he was wearing himself out. He was going in endless circles now. Was this all he was doomed to be reduced to?

But what else was he supposed to do? Like a little marching toy whose key had been snapped off, all he could do was jolt himself forward. New cogs were useless when he had no one to push him forward.

So deep in thought he was that, by the time he found himself back on the streets of the city, it felt like no time had passed at all. The rain showed no sign of letting up.

"Oh? If it isn't Monsieur Neuvillette."

He looked up. Wriothesley was stood just ahead, wielding a umbrella large enough to cover both him, Clorinde, and the copious amount of shopping they were lugging along. On any other occasion, he would have been surprised to see them. As it stood...

"Duke," He greeted dully. "Clorinde. What brings you here?"

"Bringing Miss Furina some groceries," Clorinde said, and if she noticed his jolt, she didn't mention it. "I've been a little concerned about her nutrition lately."

"Ah." He'd been planning on slipping away as soon as possible, but this changed things. "So you have... spoken to her? Does she seem well?"

"She is... surviving." Clorinde was quiet for a while. "...I've tried to apologise for the trial, but she always insists I have nothing to apologise for."

Of course she did. Neuvillette's eyes flickered to Wriothesley, who simply held his hands up in defence. "I'm just helping Clorinde. I haven't spoken to her."

'Haven't spoken' didn't mean 'haven't seen'. He waited for another moment. Sure enough, Wriothesley continued, "She's definitely not as lively as she used to be. She seems... tired. As if she hasn't slept in years."

There was a pause. The rain grew heavier.

"...are you alright, Monsieur?" Clorinde asked after a moment. "I don't mean to pry, but you've seemed... unhappy lately."

Wriothesley glanced at her, eyebrows lifted high, then at Neuvillette.

Neuvillette cleared his throat and attempted to straighten his back. "I'm quite alright. Thank you for your concern."

"If you ask me, you should probably do something about it," said Wriothesley after a moment, giving him a meaningful look. He wondered briefly just how much he was aware of. "You're only making things worse for everyone if you stay stuck."

Both he and Clorinde were wearing matching expressions now. Neuvillette was silent for a long while. Then he inclined his head. "...thank you. I'll keep your words in mind."

He turned and headed back to the Palais Mermonia. The dragon grumbled inside his chest.

 

---

 

"It's been raining for weeks now," Clorinde said, gazing impassively up into the grey storm. How long had it been since they'd last seen the blue sky? "It seems the Hydro Dragon hasn't come to a decision on its judgement."

"Oh, from what I see, we're all to be judged," Wriothesley replied.

They stood there in the rain for a moment, then turned to watch the Iudex still slowly making his way down the road. For such an imposing figure, he made an awfully sad sight.

"...you know," Wriothesley began, "I knew they were attached, but I didn't think he'd take it this badly."

"I believe there are a lot of things we aren't aware of," Clorinde replied, and they exchanged another look. "...we'd better get going. Miss Furina's cake is going to get spoiled."

"Right you are. Let's- oh, blast, the carrots!"

One of their bags - insufficiently shielded by the umbrella - had gotten too soggy and split at the bottom. Wriothesley cursed and made after the vegetables beginning to roll down the street - Clorinde followed, attempting to keep the umbrella over both their heads and keep her own share of the groceries secure at the same time.

I hope Monsieur Neuvillette takes his advice, she thought with a sigh as Wriothesley almost slid face-first into a wall. The Palais Mermonia has already been so dismal lately.

Notes:

this was a mix of 'emotionally codependent' and 'pathetic sad yearning' neuvi which are my two favourite flavours of nvfr (evil laugh)

also snuck in some wriorinde qpr/bestie/work-married propaganda lol

proper neuvifuri reconciliation next time, trust

Chapter 3: Hydro Dragon, Home

Notes:

UHHHH HELLO ALL THE NEUVIFURI HOYO'S BEEN DROPPING? THE NEUVI POV LA VAGUELETTE COVER? TENDER NEUVI IN ANIMATIONS??? NEUVILLETTE HELPING FURINA JUDGE DESIGNS FOR HER ROOM? THE ICE DANCE?????

i did contemplate going big crazy insano mode unhinged neuvi but i just want good things for furiri and i felt like i was putting him through the wringer enough already, so i went the fluff route (feat. pathetic neuvi who missed his wife so much) instead

Neuvillette did not take their advice.

At least, not for a good fortnight. He deliberated over it long and hard - spent what probably totalled to a full day of pacing back and forth in his office, staring blankly at to-be-done paperwork, or gazing out over the streets of the city from what had become his favourite haunt just outside the Palais Mermonia. So deep was his contemplation that his grief had taken quite the dip in intensity, and for the first time in a while, the skies were beginning to clear a little.

Perhaps this allowed him to convince himself he was making more progress than he was. In fact, he was just as miserable as before. He was just too busy thinking about other things to dwell on it as much.

Before now, Neuvillette's mornings and evenings had always started and ended with Furina. She was the first person he saw once the sun had risen, and the last he bid goodnight to after the day's work; their journeys to and from the Opera Epiclese were almost always taken in tandem. Hers was the presence that defined time - both as his only constant in five hundred years of service, and the comfortable checkpoint of his daily routine.

Things were different now, of course. These weeks without her by his side had felt like one endless day. Just as water sought equilibrium, he found no peace without her to herald the night.

Ah... what a sorry state he had been reduced to. Furina would surely laugh if she knew. How he longed to hear the sound.

Trials had finally resumed at the Opera Epiclese - most cases had been placed on hold while the aftermath of the flood was being cleared up, and then there had been the matter of how the final verdict would be delivered, now that the Oratrice was inactive. After some thought, Neuvillette made the statement that he, as Chief Justice, would simply do the job himself.

Most people accepted the decision immediately. It made sense; after all, the Iudex had only once disagreed with the Oratrice's judgement, and even then it had been clear to all that it'd be impossible for the Fatui Harbinger to be guilty in the missing girls case. He was four years old when it started, for goodness sake...

This, of course, was not what was on Neuvillette's mind. To him, 'the trial' could only mean one thing, and he replayed those few hours over and over when the Palais Mermonia grew quiet.

He declared Furina guilty. The Oratrice, as it always had, agreed with him, only to take the sentence further than he'd ever wanted it go. The trial had gone far further than it ever should have, and he couldn't accept it. So, it was with some relief that he announced he would be the sole judge from now on. 

There was some relief to returning to his usual work routine. When he focused on the case at hand, it was easy to quell the voices in the back of his head - as long as he didn't look up.

How much of it had been part of the act, he wondered? How much did Furina truly live for the spectacle of the courtroom - how much of it was true entertainment, and how much of it was endless, desperate hope that this trial would finally be the one to end it all?

The fact that he didn't know frightened him.

The ground beneath had been unsteady since the day he leapt to the sky and declared the nation innocent. He hadn't truly touched solid ground since. The dragon hissed uneasily inside his chest. How could it rest easy, realising that it it may not have ever truly known the treasure it longed to protect?

But who else could recognise true gold, but a dragon's cunning eyes? Neuvillette had been fooled by the facade, but it had never been a matter as simple as that. He had long since been caught beneath the spring's surface, and in its reflection all masks dissolved. Furina kept her pain a closely guarded secret, never faltering, never giving in - but her joy, though fleeting, shone like the millions of stars in her eyes.

In plain words, her soul drew his, just as the moon did the sea. It was something that resounded even louder over the roaring waterfall that had occupied each of their minds for five hundred years.

He had he avoided seeking her out, for fear she might look up at him with stranger's eyes and turn him away, but he'd only been trying to guard his own feeble heart. The possibility that she would turn away - just as he had turned away on the day of her trial - ached like a dagger in his side. The shame bubbled and corroded, until it felt like the dragon was attempting to claw out from his skin itself.

There was nothing for it. On a day that might have been mundane as any other - the sort of days they'd once spend chatting idly on the aquabus for long after they'd reached their stop - he found himself with an ounce of her courage, and left his office in the middle of a document. 

He forced himself not to dwell on his destination, knowing he might lose his nerve if he did. He'd long since memorised the address; it wasn't far from the Palais Mermonia. Had he done that on purpose?

...yes, he rather thought he had.

Knock, knock.

He'd thought the wait would be unbearable, but now that he stood here, he felt oddly serene. All his worries seemed to have gone quiet. He'd been quite the fool this whole time if it had been this easy all along.

Then the door opened, and Furina looked up at him.

In an instant, there was a rumble, and rain immediately began falling once more.

Not again, said an exasperated voice in the back of his head. Somewhere down the street, a harried mother hollered for her children to help take the laundry inside.

Furina blinked. Then she laughed - loud and bright, just as he was used to, and his heart clenched - and began ushering him inside. "You're going to drench yourself! Come on, in you get."

He had to stoop to fit through the archway, and stopped short as Furina shut the door behind him. It bewildered him just as much as it angered him that she should be relegated to such a humble abode after all she had done. Stowed away to be forgotten, like a poor souvenir after a holiday. How was this just? Was this truly what Furina wanted?

"Do you want some tea?" He heard her ask. "Wriothesley dropped off some new blends..."

Then she paused and shook her head with a short laugh. "...no, how could I forget? Water for the Hydro Dragon, in a stone receptacle - nothing more, nothing less. Sit down, Monsieur."

Neuvillette found himself stumbling as she trotted off down the narrow hallway. She navigated this space with an ease she'd never had in her old chambers. Of course, he'd come in many a time to find her tangled up on the bed, or sprawled out on a chaise lounge as she bemoaned the lack of interesting things to do, but her rooms had always been so big that she didn't seem to know what to do with the space.

It seemed she was more at home in this cramped apartment than she ever had been there - than she had been with him. He wondered if the rain was getting heavier again.

He attempted to shake the feeling off, then sat down (the sofa creaked worryingly) and breathed a sigh. He was glad to see her lively, truly he was, but surely she was still hiding something from him. Five centuries had left several lifetimes' worth of wounds that he was sure would take several more to heal, and yet she was smiling at him as usual. Perhaps her voice was mellower, her expressions less animated, her speech patterns distinctly lacking in her usual theatric, but...

"Here you are!" Furina announced, practically waltzing in and setting his drink in front of him. "Now... to what do I owe the pleasure, de- ahem, Monsieur?"

Dear Iudex, echoed a quiet voice in the back of his head. He ignored it. "I..."

"If it's about the pasta, Clorinde's already been on my case about it," She said, folding her arms. "And, as I've been telling her, it isn't like I'm not trying other recipes! I've got to eat something while I'm still learning them."

"No, that isn't it." He kept his eyes on his cup, watching as his reflection floundered for something to say. "I wanted to see you."

There was a long, frozen silence - unbroken even by the sound of breathing. Neuvillette dared to look her in the eye, and found disbelief. He felt his stomach sink.

"Well, you've gotten your wish," Furina said at last, but now her bravado was feeble. "How gracious of me, right?"

"Furina," He started, but she had already turned away. 

"Stop it." She muttered. "Don't..."

She rose to her feet almost automatically, turning to run. It was a motion he was the familiar with - the same one she used to escape the courtroom, the same one she had used to escape him when he had tried to extract the truth.

He had let her go then, resigned himself to more extreme methods, and it was a decision he would find himself at odds with for what was likely to be the rest of his life. He couldn't let it happen again. He couldn't be the reason she left again.

"I—"

"Stop it, I said!" She snapped, and took another stumbling step towards the door. "Why— why are you doing this to me? I'm done. My role is over. Take your place on the stage and forget about me."

His heart clenched. "I could never forget about you."

"Why not? You have everything you need now." She was trying to sound cold, haughty, but for the first time he truly heard past the act. "Your birthright is yours. Fontaine is safe."

"I have nothing without you."

Furina froze. And then she turned around. Her face was carefully composed, and for a moment he thought of Focalors, stood beneath that ebbing blade.

"I am nothing," Furina said with an ironic lift of her hands. "Nothing and no one. So what exactly do you want from me, Monsieur?"

His breath stuttered. He could think of nothing to say - nothing that could bridge the impasse between them, nothing that could capture the depths of all he felt with simple words.

Slowly, he knelt before her, and bowed his head.

Furina went silent. He dared not look up at her, felt almost unworthy to meet her eyes.

"I know I do not deserve to ask for forgiveness," He murmured. "I regret your trial more than you could imagine. I regret that I failed to see you for so long. I..."

"Neuvillette," She sounded a little panicked. "What are you— get up already— please. I don't..."

"You deserve more than this world can possibly offer you." He could feel his voice failing him, but forced himself to press on. "More than I or Fontaine have ever given you. I couldn't ever hope to quantify all you have done. I wish I could give you my years for all you have sacrificed... I wish I'd known your heart as well as I loved your soul.

"...I want to stay by your side from now on. I want to know you in all your humanity. That is my selfish wish."

She stood there, unmoving, for what felt like eternity. Then there was a clatter - she knelt beside him, threw her arms around his neck, and wept.

He caught her without so much as a pause, found that she fit with him as neatly as a puzzle, and perhaps he had been made to hold her. Furina didn't say a word, only shook, struck him weakly as she wept - and the dragon curled its wings around her, drank her tears from her cheeks, crooned in gentle harmony with each sob. I was so alone. I didn't know when it would end. I thought I would die. I thought I had failed. What do I do now? Who am I now? 

You've worked so hard. You've been so brave. You were strong in sorrow. You are beautiful in grief. I am here. I am yours.

O, my Furina... all your tears, I shall repay.

 

---

 

"So..."

"So," Furina echoed. The rain outside had slowly dispersed; the room was quiet now, save for the rustling of her clothes as she shifted in her dragon's arms.

Neuvillette trailed a gentle hand down her back. After a moment, he asked quietly, "Do you still plan to stay here?"

"Probably." She glanced up him, faltering slightly at the subtle disappointment in his eyes. "...I mean, I like it here. It's cosy. And I don't think it's a good idea for me to start wandering around the Palais Mermonia now - think of how it'd look to the press."

"I could sneak you in under my coat," Neuvillette mused. "I'm sure the Melusines would be willing to look the other way."

Furina stared at him for a moment. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. "Oh, honestly! The things you think of— what next, will you put me in a suitcase and drag me in that way?"

He didn't mind her teasing. Rather, he allowed himself to revel in it. Maybe this cramped little apartment wasn't so bad. Though lacking in opulence, it was a place away from the pressure of work, from the judgemental eyes of the crowd - somewhere to forget his duties, and remember his livelihood.

The guilt was still bitter in his mouth, but now he could taste something sweeter. The dragon purred deep in his chest, curling its claws around its treasure, and chirruping happily when she reached up to tangle her hand in a lock of his hair.

He sensed it was still volatile. These weeks would not vanish without a trace. But, for now, he could release himself and rest.

O, tides, I have returned to the moon.

Notes:

little detail for you: the lines "just as water sought equilibrium...", "o [my furina], your tears, i shall repay" and "o, tides, i have returned to the moon" are references to neuvi's talent names, and him bowing his head is a reference to his skill voiceline

i suck so bad at writing actual direct intimacy and kisses and stuff though so i just. didn't

brain's still buzzing with nvfr ideas but i'm having trouble writing extended things for them,,, next up i think will be something silly and whimsical, a lighter take on nvfr's one week divorce (with maximum sad wet puppy neuvillette)

Notes:

THIS LINE from neuvillette in furina's story quest:
"Many people were once enthralled by Lady Furina's performances, myself included. I hope that one day, she'll be able to understand that our appreciation was always sincere."
they are making me SO insane

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of top 1 ship to make me actually try writing romance