Chapter 1: Letting You Go
Chapter Text
“This is why I was invited to Fontaine,” Neuvillette mutters, gaze following Focalors around the dimly lit stage.
“You were a pawn, just like Furina, my dear. Don’t look so sad, Hydro Dragon,” Focalors smiles.
Thoughts racing, Neuvillette closes his eyes. For 500 years, he has served Fontaine as their Chief of Justice. Over the centuries, he has not once questioned the judgment from the Oratrice— but now? Eyes burning, Neuvillette sighs, heartbreaking as he watches Focalors gracefully bow.
“Hydro Dragon, Hydron Dragon, don’t cry… You did what you were supposed to do, and now you will gain your full power again. Thank you for your service over these five hundred years,” Focalors bows, as the sword dangling over her head drops.
One last attempt, Neuvillette raises his arm, watching a piece of him fade away.
“I beg to differ that I’m the so-called winner here, Focalors,” Neuvillette wipes the one tear that slipped free. The room warms as the power returns—ancient energy that once was lost, flowing freely in his veins once again.
“I, Iudex Neuvillette—hereby declare, people of Fontaine, your sins are forgiven,” Neuvillette declares as his chest tightens.
Rain pours around him, allowing the cold, bitter water to soak his bones. The power sings in his veins, even though a piece of him leaves. Watching Focalors sacrifice herself burns into his memory. Of course, in her eyes, she did not see it that way. She was letting her people have their freedom—she won against the Heavenly Principles. Sighing once again, he moves on, Neuvillette has a duty, one that he cannot give up on… No matter how his heart aches, his body tires, or the pounding in his skull. Neuvillette’s duties never cease—though he wishes for a vacation. It has crossed his mind once in the past, taking a vacation so he could recover. He never acted on it, even with the long list of vacation days Furina rewarded him.
“One day, I foresee the vacation days being used,”
***
Sipping his chamomile tea, Wriothesley attempts to settle the nerves that have been building in his stomach for weeks. Fontaine recovered; they survived the onslaught from the prophecy. The many hands that had been involved made it easier than he had expected. Yes, they lost some good people, but they still had homes, loved ones, and warm beds to crawl into. The soothing tea spills down his throat as he continues to pour over the endless pile of documents.
He didn’t even want to think about the massive stack of documents on Neuvillette’s desk. Placing the teacup back on its saucer, he rubs a hand down his face.
Neuvillette.
It has been a week since they have chatted about anything other than the city of Fontaine. When Wriothesley even edges away from non-personal relations Neuvillette shuts him down. He hasn’t felt closed off from Neuvillette since… forever. Groaning, he flops against his desk, he has tried many times to engage the Iudex, but he runs in the opposite direction.
“Your Grace?” The small voice causes him to jump at his desk.
Sigewinne.
Turning in his chair, he catches sight of the sleepy Melusine emerging from his spare bedroom. Sigewinne normally would sleep in her own chambers, but since the prophecy—she has been staying in his place. Wriothesley could lie and say he hates it when he welcomes Sigewinne’s presence. Pushing his chair back, he makes room for Sigewinne to climb up his lap. Normally, she would only do with Neuvillette, but as of late, she doesn’t want to be apart from Wriothesley.
“I thought you were sleeping, Sige. Did another nightmare wake you?” He hums as she pulls the blanket up with her.
Shaking her head, she yawns, “I thought I heard movement. You told me you would be in bed at a more reasonable hour, Your Grace.”
Mentally cursing himself, he did agree to be asleep at a reasonable hour. He did attempt to lay down, but the anxiety settled into his chest. The dreadful weight forced him to gasp into the empty room. Not wanting to worry Sigewinne, he rubs soothing circles into her back.
“A document pulled my attention, I forgot Monsieur Neuvillette requested the document be finished by sunrise,” He lies.
Lying has come easier than it ever has before. Lying to Clorinde, Navia, and now Sigewinne. His throat burns as he forces the words out with a sad smile. Neuvillette didn’t need the document; he needed to have an excuse, but this was all he could offer.
“Do you think Monsieur Neuvillette is getting enough rest? I stopped in to talk to him, but Sedene said he wanted no visitors… Doesn’t that sound odd?” Sigewinne questions as she leans into Wriothesley’s chest.
No visitors?
That was odd for Neuvillette.
His door was always open, well his door was open for Wriothesley. His fingers move to slowly untangle the knots from her hair. His anxiety skyrocketed to a new high thinking about Neuvillette all alone in his office. Furina stepped down after the waters receded, moved out of the Palais Mermonia, and left all the Judicial decisions to Neuvillette. Wriothesley tried countless times to open the door, offering his help, but Neuvillette shook his head. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, his heart rate climbs thinking about Neuvillette.
Clorinde told him the last time she destroyed his door to confess his sins. His sins in question—how madly in love he is with Chief Justice, Neuvillette. At first, Wriothesley thought the feelings he had been harboring were: adoration. As time passed, he found the ugly green monster sticking its head when others had Neuvillette’s attention. Opening his heart to the Iudex had been the most exhilarating ride of his life. He was peeling back his layers, dropping his walls, and stepping out of his comfort zone—for a man who was now closing the door.
“I’ll stop by Palais Mermonia in the morning. I need to visit top side for some of that sweet bread you enjoy,” Wriothesley smiles down at the Melusine in his lap.
He is rewarded with a stunning smile as her eyes slip shut. Exhaustion weighing on Sigewinne from the recent events. Carefully standing, Wriothesley carries the girl into the spare bedroom. Gently laying her in the bed, he drapes the light blue blanket the Traveller gifted Sigewinne before they left Fontaine. Sighing peacefully, Sigewinne snuggles closer into the sheets. Smiling softly, Wriothesley brushes her hair off her forehead. Clicking on the small bedside lamp, Wriothesley exits the room, closing it behind him. Eyeing his bed, he stretches and settles back into his chair. Knowing Neuvillette is most likely doing the same for him brings him some comfort. Tomorrow morning, he would rise early and request a meeting with the Iudex himself. Even if he had to kick down the door, he would check on Neuvillette. Maybe confess his feelings, rubbing his temple he thought about stopping by the local florist. The streets were followed a week ago, but life had to return to normal. Sighing, he finishes the cold cup of tea and sets to signing the mountain of documents.
***
“Your Grace!” Sedene calls as Wriothesley nudges the door open. His arms filled to the brim with flowers and Neuvillette’s favorite water. Bringing out his dazzling smile, he lets the door swing shut behind him. Palais Mermonia empty but for Sedene and him—he did see Neuvillette’s window open. Two options stand before him; either Neuvillette never retired for the night or he arrived earlier than Sedene herself.
“Good morning, Sedene! I saw from the street that Chief Justice Neuvillette’s office window is open, by any chance could I request some of his time?” Wriothesley sugarcoats his words.
Normally he wouldn’t be this picky of his word choice, but Wriothesley needed to see Neuvillette. He watches as her gaze travels to the closed door; a frown ghosts her lips. He brought the Melusine’s favorite cake as a charm for her to open the door. He knew from the beginning he would be playing dirty to get a few minutes with Neuvillette.
“Actually, Your Grace, he has been waiting for you. He knew you would show up today,” Sedene whispers softly.
Eyebrows raising to his hairline, he leans down to place the small box in her hands. He wasn’t expecting Neuvillette to know he would be stopping by. His heart flutters in his chest as he pats Sedene’s head. Before he pulls back, she places a hand on him.
“Please talk some sense into him, Your Grace. He hasn’t left Palais Mermonia in days, we haven’t had trials, because he has been postponing them. He hasn’t opened his office door to anyone but you. I fear he might do something outlandish, but he hasn’t talked to anyone. He has denied Lady Clorinde, Lady Navia, and Sigewinne,” Sedene rushes out, eyes darting to the Neuvillette’s office door.
Stomach turning, Wriothesley attempts his most dazzling smile and winks, “No fear, Sedene. You know me, he can’t resist this charm.”
Sighing, she nods as she moves to the side. Other workers slowly filed into the room around them. Wriothesley stands, takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door. Anxiety settles into his stomach as he waits for Neuvillette to grant him access.
“Come in,” Neuvillette answers.
Swallowing the bile that threatens to come up, Wriothesley opens the door to find Neuvillette seated on the couch he had brought in for Wriothesley’s visits. Lifting his head, Neuvillette softly smiles as Wriothesley enters. Sedene pulls the door shut behind him as he slips the lock into place. He needs uninterrupted time with Neuvillette, no matter if there are trials or issues at the Fortress of Meropide. Wriothesley needs to either confess his love or at least keep Neuvillette open about what is plaguing him.
“Your Honor, I heard from the Steambird that you have been denying meetings,” Wriothesley teases, hanging up his jacket.
Neuvillette hums meekly causing the other man to frown. Wriothesley thought they were finally on solid ground with his teasing. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he stomps down the anxiety brewing.
“I know I have been difficult engaging with others the past few weeks. I apologize for how cold I have been to you and the others,” Neuvillette confesses.
Turning around, Wriothesley finally sees the scene in front of him. The Iudex’s office is spotless, papers tucked away, no mountain of documents cluttering his desk, his boxes packed away… as if he was getting up to leave.
“Monsieur Neuvillette, are we spring cleaning early this year?” Wriothesley teases again.
When he is met with silence, the Duke worries. He glances around the room again, taking in more details he missed on his entrance. Chairs tucked away, carpet rolled up in the corner, teapot Neuvillette bought of him—all gone.
“Wriothesley…” Neuvillette trails off as he rubs his temples.
He wishes the room would stop spinning; this wasn’t spring cleaning. He didn’t want to admit the feeling that was sinking into the pits of his stomach. Neuvillette tilts his head to the ceiling, his eyes glistening with tears. Wriothesley has never seen the man before him break. The bouquet falls from his hand as he rushes over to Neuvillette’s side. The Iudex attempting to turn away from the Duke.
He wishes the room would stop spinning; this wasn’t spring cleaning. He didn’t want to admit the feeling that was sinking into the pits of his stomach. Neuvillette tilts his head to the ceiling, his eyes glistening with tears. Wriothesley has never seen the man before him at his breaking point. The bouquet falls from his hand as he rushes to Neuvillette’s side. The Iudex attempting to turn away from the Duke.
“Is this why you have denied visitors for the last week? Tell me, Neuvillette. What is going on here? Because to me, it’s as if you are packing up and leaving,” Wriothesley spins around facing the Iudex.
Neuvillette’s face holds no emotions, but his eyes speak the words he cannot. Outside, rain begins to fall, soft at first. The Iudex’s shoulders sag as he lets his full body fall against the couch. Wriothesley watches as the stoic expression breaks; exhaustion riddling Neuvillette’s features. Dark circles under his eyes, cheeks sunken, and skin clammy. In all his years of knowing Neuvillette, The Duke has never witnessed Neuvillette this broken before.
Or maybe he has but Neuvillette never let him in.
Gesturing with his hand, the Iudex waits for Wriothesley to sit beside him. The room chilled with the outside rain dropping the temperature. The Duke didn’t dare to break the silence in the room. Clenching his jaw, he waits, waits, and waits. Neuvillette owes him an answer, but he would not demand his answer. Neuvillette sighs as he drops the hand that has been pinching the bridge of his nose. Anxiety rolls off him in waves as they sit in the awkward silence.
“I forgot how keen your eyes are, Wriothesley. I dare say, I could never hide from you,” Neuvillette hums, humorlessly.
“Why would you want to hide from me, Neuvillette? I have been nothing but frank with you from the start. I believe I deserve that much from you,”
Neuvillette’s intake of breath hurts as they lapse back into tense silence. Wriothesley mentally cursed himself, words rolling off his tongue before his brain caught up. This is it; he would be thrown out before his questions were answered. Placing his hand on the armrest, the Duke prepares to stand when he feels fingers slide into his. Yanking him back, he’s forced to stare into lilac eyes. Tears brimming, Wriothesley acts quickly, turning to cup the Iudex’s face. Actions cause Neuvillette to flinch, but he doesn’t back away from Wriothesley’s touch. Touches between them have always been here and there. Neuvillette’s touch scolding while Wriothesley’s is the balm. They never address the elephant in the room, happily dancing around the touches.
“Your Honor?” He pleads.
Shaking his head, Neuvillette briefly closes his eyes. Steadying his breathing, he appears to settle the sudden wave of emotion. The rain beats against the window as Neuvillette wages with the war inside of him. Pressing his cheek fully into Wriothesley’s palm, his eyes still tightly shut, he speaks.
“Please no longer refer to me as Iudex, Your Honor, or Chief of Justice. As of tomorrow morning, I will start a new adventure,” swallowing, he glances down, “I will be leaving Fontaine, Duke Wriothesley.”
I will be leaving Fontaine
Leaving Fontaine
New adventure
“What are you saying, Y- Neuvillette?” The Duke stutters.
Neuvillette smiles sadly as he cups Wriothesley's hands. Leaning forward, Neuvillette rests his forehead against his. No words are exchanged as they listen to the rain outside. Thunderclaps in the distance, sorrow coming off the former Iudex in waves. Tears silently stream down Neuvillette’s face as he struggles to find the words. This was also new for Wriothesley, in all his years of knowing Neuvillette– the man never struggled with finding words.
“As of lately, I have been feeling a sense of doom hanging over my head. Lady Furina stepped down and left every single decision to me; I thought I could handle it. But I keep returning to my conversation with the former Hydro Archon. I was invited to be the Chief of Justice for over five hundred years. Don’t give me that look, I think you knew before anyone else what I am, Wriothesley. You hinted at it a multitude of times but never pushed me. Here I am bearing my heart to you and you’re questioning me,” Neuvillette chuckles, wetly.
Wriothesley swallows, he knew from the moment he spoke to Neuvillette. That this precious creature wasn’t human. The power that surrounded him, how he carried himself, how he was always so composed in times of need– Wriothesley knew. He never pushed though, not once, not now.
“I am not questioning you, Monsieur. I’m attempting to wrap my head around these- these outlandish thoughts. You’re seriously leaving Fontaine?” Wriothesley struggles.
Neuvillette pulls back, dropping his hands from Wriothesley, but doesn’t move. Their thighs are firmly glued together, feeling the heat of Neuvillette’s body grounds him. His world continues to spin as Neuvillette gives him time to right himself.
“How long have you thought about leaving Fontaine? How long will you be gone? Who is going to take your spot? We– You…” Wriothesley trails off.
Neuvillette doesn’t respond, which further stirs the fear pooling into his veins. Yes, Fontaine is without an Archon. Yes, they would be scrambling to cover Neuvillette’s position. Yes, Wriothesley is being selfish, but he can’t help it.
Why didn’t Neuvillette speak to him?
“I didn’t speak to you, because I made my decision today. You would guess correctly. I haven’t been home. I know that thought has been swirling in your mind, Wriothesley. Please, if you allow me, I will gladly tell you as much as I know. But please, do not… do not despise me after this,” Neuvillette quietly begs.
“Of course, Neuvi. I could never hate you, please, let me into your world,”
***
Wriothesley drops into his chair, returning to the Fortress of Meropide hours later. He couldn’t bring himself to leave Neuvillette, but Sedene’s endless knocking forced him to return. Sigewinne sent word, politely asking for his help with some rowdy inmates. He made Neuvillette promise not to leave without saying goodbye, which Neuvillette smiled and told him when his boat was leaving. Rubbing his eyes, he turned to force the burning away behind his eyes.
He did as he promised, he listened to Neuvillette speak. The walls had been broken, and the floodgates opened. He sat there and listened to every single little detail of the man’s story. Not asking questions until the end, not overwhelming Neuvillette in the slightest. When had finished, Wriothesley understood why the former Iudex needed to travel. From the Duke’s understanding, Neuvillette hasn’t left Fontaine since he arrived. He doesn’t have answers to why he was born in his said form.
Turning the thought over and over in his head, Wriothesley stood to make his comfort tea. He didn’t request any while he was with Neuvillette. Not wanting to force the man to dirty his already clean office. Starting the kettle, he leans against the counter and ponders more. Neuvillette asked him if Wriothesley could settle the waves of his absence. The Duke, head over heels, agreed with no hesitation. Tomorrow morning, he would have all of Fontaine and Fortress of Meropide running on his shoulders. The kettle whistle pulls him from his thoughts, and he turns. Pouring the scalding water over the tea leaves, he lapses back in thought waiting for them to finish steeping. The smell of ginger and citrus fills his nostrils as he reviews the conversation from earlier.
“When do you leave?” Wriothesley asked as the midafternoon sunlight poured from the open windows.
“I leave at sunrise tomorrow morning,” Neuvillette answered while watching the sunlight dance.
Wriothesley wetted his lips as he thought about his next question. He needed to know, and he needed to know. If he could ever find Neuvillette again.
“I will not tell you where I am going, and please do not ask. I wish to travel to all of Tevyat. I will send letters. I would like to keep in touch with you, Wriothesley.” Neuvillette murmured.
Swallowing the burning questions, he nodded. Wriothesley could do this, and he would respect Neuvillette’s wishes. He turned to ask one more question, but it got caught in his throat when his eyes landed on Neuvillette. The dreadful air that circled him seemed to vanish. His eyes were sad but bright for the first time in eons. Tears clung to his long eyelashes as he watched the clouds from the window. The sunlight kissed his skin, bathing him in golden hues. Wriothesley’s breath caught in his chest as he watched Neuvillette soak in the sun. The darkening clouds from earlier left as Neuvillette bared his woes to the Duke.
“No worries, Monsieur. I will look over Fontaine while you are gone. I will eagerly await your letters and that your travels uncover the answers you are searching for.” Wriothesley forced a smile.
Neuvillette’s answering smile crushed his heart into a million pieces. His words answered unspoken questions between them. Reaching for his hand, Neuvillette squeezed his hand. Tears burned behind his eyes as he gazed into pools of lavender. The ache in his chest from letting Neuvillette go.
“Your Grace?” A soft voice calls, pulling him back to the present.
Only love can hurt like this.
“Your Grace?” The soft voice calls once again.
Pushing away from the counter, he turns to find Sigewinne accompanied by Clorinde. Quickly rubbing a hand down his face, he forces that same fake smile. Worry lines trace their features as Wriothesley’s eyes focus on them. Tears continue to spill blurring his vision more, as he tries to fight back the ache. Tiny hands engulfed his as Sigewinne rushed forward, while Clorinde asked him endless questions.
These questions he promised to answer tomorrow morning. Two sets of arms circled him as the tears continued to fall. Tears he didn’t even shed when he was sentenced to Meropide all those years ago. Tears he didn’t shed when he found out the true life his parents had given him. This ache doesn’t compare to the trauma he has carried over the years. Nothing compares to the ache– of knowing Neuvillette would be leaving tomorrow morning. Holding on tightly to Clorinde and Sigewinne, the floodgates broke, and the sobs escaping his lips did not sound like him. Shaking his head, he buries his face in Sigewinne’s hair, seeking the comforting smell of sea breeze and ocean salt. She always smells of Neuvillette, the aroma that once soothed him, now causes suffering.
Wriothesley doesn’t know how he ended up on his couch. His head pounding as sheds the last tear. Sigewinne curled up into his side while Clorinde sat at his desk. Paging through the documents piling up, she lifts her gaze feeling Wriothesley’s eyes on her.
“These tears. They are not from him turning you down,” She states, letting the page drop from her grasp.
Sighing, he rubs a hand over his face. Glancing down, he sees Sigewinne is fists asleep. Breathing deeply as her little fists curl into his jacket. Not wanting to disturb her sleeping he leans back. The weight of today sinks into his bones as he finds the words.
“Neuvillette is leaving Fontaine tomorrow,” He mutters loud enough for her to hear.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” She sputters, pushing back from his desk.
Pointing to the table, he gestures for Clorinde to come closer so they would not wake Sigewinne.
“Settle in, and I’ll tell you exactly what he told me earlier today,” Wriothesley states, his mind already replaying this morning.
***
The cool sea breeze kisses his skin as the sun peaks over the mountains. Wriothesley barely remembers closing his eyes last night. He might have gotten an hour after his conversation with Clorinde. She took her leave after the last of her tears had finished. Another person, Wriothesley, has never seen break. The tears had clung to her eyelashes, her makeup running as she cried into his shoulder. Neuvillette has been her boss ever since she was appointed to Champion Dualist. Chlorine has worked in close relations with Lady Furina and the Chief of Justice Neuvillette. Watching them both leave tore her heart in half, leaving Wriothesley to pick up the pieces.
Luckily, Sigewinne hadn’t awoken. He even left long before she even thought of stirring. He stepped away long enough to change his clothes, wash his face, and have the cold tea from last night. The streets of Fontaine were quiet, not even the earlier rises stirring. Neuvillette stands beside him, dressed down from his normal formal wear. His robes ditched, his spats gone, and his hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Simple white button-down and deep blue slacks for his long travels. Wriothesley couldn’t believe he was about to let this beauty of a creature slip through his fingers. His heart begs for him to say the three words sitting on his tongue. His chest tightens as Neuvillette faces him, a sad smile gracing his lips. A simple backpack on his shoulder and envelopes in his free hand.
“I never thought it would be me leaving. I always thought I would be standing here, letting you go,” Neuvillette softly murmurs.
Heart creeping to his throat, Wriothesley’s insides turning to lead as Neuvillette chuckles and shakes his head.
Please, don’t go.
“These are letters for the others if you could so kindly deliver them for me. They will notice my absence rather quickly. I fear the entire nation of Fontaine will notice my absence before I even finish boarding,” Neuvillette smiles.
Please, turn around.
Neuvillette catches his gaze while Wriothesley attempts to hide the tears pooling in his eyes. He made a vow that he would not cry until Neuvillette boarded the ship. Lying, breaking promises, what’s next? Another life of crime? Fingers catching his chin, and tilting his head up, Neuvillette smiles gently.
Please say you’ll stay.
“I have never seen you overcome with emotion before, Wriothesley. I think the heavens cried more on your sentencing than you. You’re allowed to cry– I will write to you when I arrive in neighboring Nations. Please take care of Fontaine, and yourself. For me, Monsieur,” Neuvillette smiles, as his thumb rubs soothing circles into the Duke’s skin.
Please, I am right here.
One tear escapes as he nods, and Neuvillette steps back. Placing the envelopes in his hands, the former Iudex smiles one last time.
“Safe travels, Neuvillette. I’ll do my best here, but please come back in one piece,” Wriothesley whispers.
Neuvillette graces him with one last dazzling smile. A true smile, one that he always saved for Wriothesley. The blue sky is bright, the sun is shining on them as Neuvillette boards the ship. Wriothesley could stand there all day, and he wanted to be rooted in that spot, awaiting Neuvillette’s return. Mustering up the courage, he shoots Neuvillette his best smile. The ache in his chest grew, his heart crumbling to pieces as the ship pulled its bridge away. Neuvillette is its last passenger and turns to catch the last glimpse of Fontaine.
Raising his hand, he waves goodbye.
He waves goodbye to his heart, his love, and his soul.
Only love can hurt like this.
Turning, Wriothesley scrubs his eyes. Locking away his emotions for later this evening, when it would be him and the four walls of his chambers. Squaring his shoulders, he had to make do on his promise.
Chapter 2: Starting Over
Summary:
The calm before the storm.
Wriothesley waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Sitting in Neuvillette’s chair, at Neuvillette’s desk, the Duke forces himself to read over the upcoming trials. The former Iudex was generous enough to leave all trials for the following week. Outlined in his perfect handwriting, down to the last little detail staring the Duke in the face. Neuvillette gave Wriothesley more than enough time to prepare for a new Chief of Justice. He attempted to pick Neuvillette’s brain, but Neuvillette politely declined.
Notes:
Hello! We are back with chapter two ready to go. I do apologize it took me so long to finish. I traveled for the first part of this month then major weather conditions forced my hand. I enjoyed all the comments that you have left, thank you for your kind words and this journey with me. This chapter is a bit more on the heavier side with emotion! I promise we will be getting to the good stuff soon. We have to marinate in our emotions for a bit. I hope you enjoy and as always, comments and kudos are welcomed!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The calm before the storm.
Wriothesley waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Sitting in Neuvillette’s chair, at Neuvillette’s desk, the Duke forces himself to read over the upcoming trials. The former Iudex was generous enough to leave all trials for the following week. Outlined in his perfect handwriting, down to the last little detail staring the Duke in the face. Neuvillette gave Wriothesley more than enough time to prepare for a new Chief of Justice. He attempted to pick Neuvillette’s brain, but Neuvillette politely declined.
“I am no longer serving in Fontaine, and I don’t think my thoughts matter, my dear friend,” Neuvillette softly smiled.
Hanging his head, Wriothesley smiles bitterly at the comment. He knew it was a long shot for Neuvillette’s guidance. The exhaustion written into his skin, so Wriothesley ceased his pestering. Finally, alone with his thoughts, he tries to think about anything besides Neuvillette. It is near impossible to think of his daily duties without Neuvillette sprinkling into his thoughts like summer rain. It has been four hours since Wriothesley said goodbye to Neuvillette. It’s surprising how much Neuvillette’s presence, words—the mere thought of him is intertwined in Wriothesley’s brain.
Their weekly morning tea gatherings.
Their weekly evening dinner gatherings.
Their fingertips brushed when they exchanged documents. The sweet smell of Neuvillette’s expensive shampoo lightly kissed Wriothesley’s senses when he settled closer. The long nights they shared in both their offices discussing mundane life. The brushing of lips one evening when they both had too much to drink. For Neuvillette’s sake, Wriothesley never mentioned it. But he never stopped dreaming of those soft, pink lips under his. Or how Neuvillette sighed into their gentle meeting of lips. These thoughts were for the dead of night– when Wriothesley was alone, missing Neuvillette.
The door opens, pulling him from his thoughts. Glancing up, the first to arrive at their meeting is Clorinde. Her eyes dull, not carrying the life he is so used to seeing. The dark circle's layer under her lifeless eyes barely nods as she drops onto the empty couch. Wriothesley prepared tea for their little meeting, hoping to soothe the painful news. Digging out the tea set, and burner pulled at the dull ache in his chest.
“Clorinde,” He offers lightly.
“I'd rather we sit in silence, nothing against you, Wriothesley. I do not have the energy for simplistic interactions,” Clorinde whispers running a hand through her hair.
Noticing for the first time since she entered the room, Clorinde is dressed down. As if she is in mourning attire rather than work. Her hat gone, her normally stylish purple hair pulled into a bun, shocks Wriothesley. He does not blame her though; his normal attire held no comfort that it usually carried. Nodding his head, settling into Neuvillette’s chair. Faintly smelling the reminisce of the sea breeze and the ocean spray from years of the Hydro Dragon residing here.
***
The doors open as Navia is the second to last to arrive. Her bright blonde hair flowed behind her. A pretty smile sits on her pale pink lips, Wriothesley is not stupid. He knows how stunningly beautiful Navia is. When she steps into a room, everyone is immediately at ease around her. Compared to Wriothesley, when he enters a room, everyone tenses until he cracks a joke or smiles. Forcing that same old smile on his lips, he nods to Navia as she glances around the room. Her gaze finds Clorinde first– her brow pinching ever so slightly. Her eyes linger on Clorinde before taking in the rest of the room.
“Yahoo! Apologies for my tardiness! I see you two, but where is Iudex Neuvillette? How odd, this is his office, is it not?” Navia hums as her eyes land on Wriothesley.
Swallowing, Wriothesley stands to offer his spot to Navia. A perfect eyebrow raises but she nods as she slides into his former seat. Clorinde captures Navia’s hand and pulls it into her lap. Her fingers entangling with the blonde’s slim fingers, Wriothesley averts his eyes from the happy couple. He holds no bitterness towards his friends, but his heart cracks watching others around him have what his heart craves.
“He must be running late for a valid reason?” Navia prompts again.
“We’re waiting for Lady Furina to join us as well, Lady Navia,” Wriothesley forces out.
Navia nods before falling into silence, her fingers tapping on her thigh. Wriothesley understands the anxiety that is eating away at Navia. Wriothesley had been vague in his initial invitation. Neuvillette’s stack of letters sits heavily inside of his jacket pocket. Wriothesley swore he would deliver every letter; he had a busy day ahead of him. Leaning against the desk, the Duke waits for their last guest to arrive. Neuvillette informed him yesterday as he was leaving his office that she would be returning to Fontaine today. Wriothesley asked one of his guards to camp outside at her home, awaiting her arrival. Checking the clock on the wall, their last guest should be arriving any moment. Crossing his arms over his chest, he waits. Waits. Waits. And waits. The minutes pass by like molasses as dread fills his stomach. Chewing the inside of his cheek, the thought of starting early floats through his mind.
Starting the meeting too early would mean he would have to start the same conversation twice. He already must tell the Steambird, the city, Furina, Navia… and Sigewinne.
Sigewinne.
He dreads the conversation he and Sigewinne would be having later tonight. Something told him she already knew, but he needed to be sure that she wasn’t last on his list to know. Running through the list of whom he had to inform once more, the door opens interrupting his inner monologue.
“Neuvillette! What is this? A Meropide guard camping outside MY home?!” Furina cries as the door closes behind her.
“And escorting me here like I’m some CRIMINAL!” She shrieks.
Her clear blue eyes land on Wriothesley—shocked, confused, and angry flash over her face. Her eyes darted around the office for a sign of Neuvillette. Her gaze finds Navia and Clorinde, then goes back to the Duke. Her brows crease as she looks over Wriothesley. Peeking behind him to see if Neuvillette is hiding. Dropping her theatrics, she scrunches her nose– sizing Wriothesley up. The former Archon and the Duke had struggled to agree in the earlier days. Starting from the day he had been sentenced to the Fortress of Meropide. She left during his trial, not bothering to stay after he pleaded guilty. Neuvillette told him not to look too far into it, but Wriothesley cares to believe he wasn’t entertaining enough for the former Archon.
“Where is Neuvillette?” She asks as her hands find her hips.
Snorting, Wriothesley couldn’t help himself. Neuvillette had been right, Furina would act like her normal self. Although, the air around her is softer. Not the same piercing stare as before or the underlying drama bleeding into her words. The Duke could sense her frustration building with every passing second. He needs to speak now before the entire room jumps at him. Praying to Celestia above he gestures for Furina to have a seat as he musters his courage.
“Lady Furina, happy you could finally join us. Please take a seat, we’re… we’re going to start without Monsieur Neuvillette,” Wriothesley half lies.
The lies continue to roll off his tongue when it used to be flirtatious lines. Furina huffs but finds her seat opposite Clorinda and Navia. The two close their conversation as Wriothesley pulls Neuvillette's letters from his pocket. Glancing down, his heartstrings pull as he thumbs over Neuvillette’s handwriting. The elegant swoops in the three women’s names. Handing the letters to their respected recipient, buying the time he did not have. Wriothesley exhales through his nose as he scans the room one last time. The three women eye him as he starts the conversation he had rehearsed since last night.
“Sorry. It has been… the last twelve hours have been exhausting. What I am about to tell you—I want you to hear from me and not the Steambird. I am handing out letters from Monsieur Neuvillette himself. You do not need to read them in front of me, you don’t ever have to read them at all. Listen to me first, then I will attempt to answer all your questions,” Wriothesley tries again.
With his heart in his throat, he attempts to collect his thoughts. Three sets of eyes watch him as he struggles to speak the words on his tongue. Lead forms heavily in his throat, and he closes his eyes briefly. Tears prick behind his lids, but he cannot cry now. Picturing Neuvillette’s smile from before gives him the strength he needs.
“As of this morning, there is no longer Chief of Justice Neuvillette. Before you panic, he is not dead. He is traveling all over Teyvat. He left this morning; no, I do not know when he is returning. As you know, we no longer have an Archon and now we have no Chief of Justice. That does not mean Fontaine will suffer, we are going to have to work with what we have, for now. I did not know he would be leaving, he told me yesterday. I respected his request to notify everyone when he left because he didn’t want to be pressured into his decision. I promise, no one was keeping this secret from any of you… I didn’t even know myself,” Wriothesley finishes.
Silence blankets the room as Wriothesley gauges their reaction. Clorinde glances away again, her bottom lip quivering. Navia’s pale blue eyes brimming with tears as his words sink in. Furina, not meeting his gaze, stares at her hands. Wriothesley watches as she wrings her hands in her lap. No matter the sorrow coursing through his veins, his eyebrow raises. Pocketing the information, he lets the three women ponder the news he has given them. Navia yanks her hand from Clorinde’s, tears furiously streaming down her face. Clorinde attempts to grab her hand, but Navia dodges her.
“You… You must be joking,” Navia half shrieks, jumping from her spot.
Wriothesley predicted her reaction, he is surprised at how long she kept her composure. He thought she would have interrupted him when he first said Neuvillette had left.
“Navia, if I were joking, I wouldn’t be struggling to keep my composure as well,” Wriothesley answers while running down his face.
A migraine settles behind his eyes as this is the start of many conversations throughout his day. He thought he would have more reasonable reactions, but he might have miscalculated. If Neuvillette were here he would be astonished by Navia’s outburst.
Stop thinking about him.
“I’m not sure, Duke Wriothesley. You are keeping together far better than the rest of us. Especially you, Lady Furina!” Navia spits furiously.
Pointing her finger at the former Archon, Furina shrinks onto the couch. As if she is sinking in so no judging eyes can see her. Wriothesley hums to himself, interesting. He did not foresee her reaction being so grave, but Navia could be a wildcard.
“Haven’t you been told it’s not polite to point fingers, Lady Navia,” Furina scoffs.
“Do not give me that, oh-so former Archon. You drove him away with—with your theatrical trials! You thought you were so high and mighty, but in retrospect, you are nothing without Monsieur Neuvillette,” Navia seethes, venom dripping from her words.
Wriothesley's jaw slackened, he did not know that this prim and proper Navia had a mean bone in her body. He did not plan on Navia losing her wits, but he could see where the President of Spina de Rosula was hinting at. But Furina did not deserve her hurtful and neglectful words.
“Lady Navia—” Wriothesley steps between them, protecting the former Archon.
“Milady—” Clorinde tries to reach for her again.
“No! You get to say nothing, you let him leave! You let him get on that boat and leave us! Your Grace, how daft are you?! You of all people should have stopped him. How will Fontaine function? How will Fontainians take the news? He left us—he left me,” She cries, throwing herself at the Duke.
Her fists beat into his chest as she sobs, her words unrecognizable from the cries. Wriothesley knows the pain—the ache, agony, and despair of watching your loved ones leave. Her fists continue to repeatedly strike him as he wraps his arms around her. Holding her tightly, her strikes lessen and lessen as she slacks in his arms. The fight drained out of her surprisingly quickly for someone who jumped lightning fast.
“We were supposed to have dinner tonight,” Navia's muffled sobs break the silence.
Wriothesley nods as he strokes her hair, his gaze meeting Clorinde’s, who let her façade fall. Tears track down her face as she silently cries behind Navia.
Oh Neuvillette, the mess you have left behind. Please give me the strength to settle the rising tides, Wriothesley thinks.
“Why did you let him go, Wriothesley? I finally opened the door for us to be friends, I wanted him in my life. I have already lost so many people, I cannot stand losing another,” She quietly pleads into the nothing.
The door slams shut and forces them all to jump. Craning his neck, he sees Furina’s letter in her spot, but the former Archon left. Recalling Neuvillette’s words again, he turns back to a grieving Navia.
Furina will not take this kindly, you’ll have to coax her out, Neuvillette’s words from earlier gnaw at him.
Navia pulls back from Wriothesley’s embrace, patting his shoulder as to dust off her outburst. Turning she spots Clorinde with a tearful face and loses all decorum. Throwing herself at the Champion Dualist, they collide and once again, Wriothesley averts his eyes.
Task number one was partially successful and so, so draining.
Oh, how he misses the comforting presence of Neuvillette.
***
“He’s truly gone?” Sedene utters, sadness lacing her words.
Sighing, she sits across from him. Neuvillette worked closely with all the Melusine. He said he would inform them all somehow, and Wriothesley did not question him. After ushering a crying Navia and barely holding it together Clorinde out of Neuvillette’s office, Sedene stopped in. A somber look painted on her features when she noticed Wriothesley sitting in Neuvillette’s chair.
“I’m afraid so,” Wriothesley answers while sipping his now cold tea.
“Let me know how I can help, Your Grace,” She states before leaving.
“Please make sure Sigewinne doesn’t find out. I—I need to be the one to tell her,” Wriothesley pleads.
Nodding, Sedene lets the door close softly behind her.
Rolling his shoulders, he lets his forehead hit the desk. Rolling his forehead, he tries to push off the constant pounding behind his eyes. The memories of his last migraine flood in like waves from a fitful sea.
“Do you suffer from these migraines often?” Neuvillette asks one afternoon, his brow pinching.
Wriothesley attempts to smile, but the pain in his facial muscles causes him to flinch.
“They have not been this terrible in eons—I suffered a lot when I was a teenager. Thank Celestia for Sigewinne. The cause is stress-related, and no need to worry yourself, Monsieur.” Wriothesley mutters into the wood of Neuvillette’s desk.
The Iudex hums and the duke tries again to lift his head with no luck. Black dots dance behind his eyelids, the noises from outside unkind to Wriothesley. He hears rustling and the soft click of the window closing, another soft click as the lights turn off, and more rustling as the curtains close. Cracking an eye open, Wriothesley stares as Neuvillette gently smiles at him. Offering his hand, Neuvillette pulls him to his feet, wrapping a strong arm around the Duke’s waist.
“Come, you must lie down. We can continue our meeting once your migraine passes.” The Iudex whispers into the darkness.
Wriothesley could feel an argument on his tongue, but Neuvillette shushed him. So gentle, so soft, and oh so delicate, Neuvillette unwrapped his arm and sat. Pulling on Wriothesley’s arm, the Duke falls into the Iudex’s lap. Shifting, Wriothesley drops his head into Neuvillette’s lap. Kicking his feet up, he closes his eyes and sinks into the cushions. Long, slender fingers scratch gently at his scalp, lulling him into a restful sleep.
“Sleep Wriothesley. I’ll be here when you wake,” He hears as those deft fingers continue their soothing trails in his hair.
The memory surfaced as the Duke continued to roll his forehead on the same desk Neuvillette would work at. The same desk he has worked at for centuries– but now gone.
“Archons, I miss you dearly, Neuvillette,” He mutters into the wood.
***
“He’s gone!?”
“I’m afraid so,”
“Do you know when he will be back?”
“I do not have a clear estimation, nor did Monsieur Neuvillette,”
It had been the same conversation between the last seven people to whom he had spoken. Wriothesley's right eye, now twitching, as he watches Charolette furiously write in her journal. Her eyes gleamed with unushered tears, but her hand never stopped.
“Did he leave Chief of Justice to you, Your Grace?” Charlotte asks, pen stopping.
Running a hand through his hair, Wriothesley grimaces. He is so tired of that question.
“No. He did not, nor will I be taking the position. I no longer fit with the overworld. I have been a creature of habit for years… I do better at handling than deciding someone’s faith. We will figure something out, we always do,” Wriothesley forces out.
Charlotte nods as she continues to write. Teardrops on her paper, but they do not stop her. His heart aches watching her, he wishes to reach out and soothe the agony. He isn’t the soothing type, but he might have to learn with Neuvillette no longer here.
“Do you have anything else for us, Your Grace?” Charlotte whispers as she rubs her eyes.
“If you can have this out tomorrow morning, I would appreciate it. I understand it is a quick piece, but the nation deserves to know. Some people believe he’s on vacation. I can only keep that lie up for so long. I would state that we have a few candidates in mind for the position, but I have the final say,” The Duke finishes, watching Charlotte’s pen.
The young girl nods again as her pink hair flows in the soft wind from the open window. The sun shines high in Fontaine with no dark clouds circling for once. The one time Wriothesley begs for rain, he is stuck with the brightest sunshine. His heart is heavy, his body full of lead from the constant waves of emotions. He misses the comfort of his bed, the heavy blanket that will bring him solitude tonight. The Duke has been holding in his tears, his throat burning and chest threatening to give out with each breath. He must be strong for his nation– the entire nation in his hands.
“Last thing, please keep this between you and me until the paper has been printed. I cannot have the city freaking out, and I still have some others that need to be informed before the headline tomorrow. I know it’s a rather large request, but I am willing to pay–”
Charlotte holds up her hand, shaking her head.
“You have no worries, Your Grace. Monsieur Neuvillette has always been kind to the Steambird, I rather not smear his name. He is doing what he believes is right and I understand. Even though, I do wish he told me goodbye himself. I can understand why he did not,”
The letter burns a hole in his jacket pocket. Chuckling to himself, he pulls the letter out from his pocket. Charlotte glances up at his chuckle, and her eyes widen at the letter he hands her. Neuvillette begged him to deliver his letters to most of the people he interacted with daily. Charlotte gently holds the letter in her hands, tears gathering in her ocean-blue eyes. Wriothesley didn’t have the energy to handle any more emotions. He had enough for him and Sigewinne. He needs to save that for later.
“I think he wanted to say goodbye in his own way, Charlotte. You know Neuvillette. If that is everything, I have another meeting to attend,” He rises from his chair.
Turning on his heel, Wriothesley tries to leave before he hears the sobs. Every single letter he has handed out has left his heart breaking more and more. Leaving behind a trail of shattered glass that he will be picking up over time. The Duke doesn’t despise Neuvillette, but Archons does wish to be done. He has no idea what the letters contain, but Wriothesley knows Neuvillette. He reaches the entrance of the Steambird’s office when hears the gasp. His eyes prick once again, but his shoulders through the door. The Duke is accustomed to being the villain in most stories, but this is downright cruel. Glancing at the sky, he watches as the sun starts to drop. His stomach growls, pulling his attention to what he hasn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday morning.
Following the mental checklist in his head, he has one more person to inform.
His dearest Sigewinne.
***
Dropping to his chair, Wriothesley sighs, throwing his arm over his eyes. Titling his head back against his seat, he tries to focus on the pounding in his skull. He is in utter disbelief that he finished all of Neuvillette’s tasks. Speaking to the Steambird about their latest issue tomorrow morning, delivering all his letters to their rightful owners, attempting to set up a new and fair legal system, along following through with his duties in the Fortress.
One more duty he needs to address, and then he can make his short trek to his bed.
“Your Grace! You have been away all day, and I thought you would stay on the top side this evening,” Sigewinne calls while closing his office door.
The Duke listens to her soft steps on his stairs. He should stand to greet her, he should make her some tea, and grab her favorite snack. There is no energy– nothing prepared him for this. Not his so-called parents, the Fortress– fucking hell Neuvillette didn’t even give him insight.
Guilt settles into his gut as he pulls his arm away from his eyes. Blinking, he lets his gaze adjust before he turns his attention to Sigewinne. Her bright eyes scan over him as he puts the stool beside him for her to sit. Wearily settling into her seat, Sigewinne turns so her shoes touch his thigh. Seeking a familiar touch in troubled times grounds him long enough to pull out the two remaining letters.
Sigewinne’s letter and his letter.
“Oh! Are these letters from Monsieur Neuvillette? You didn’t state you were seeing him today… Your Grace?” She pulls the letters from his weakened grasp.
The Duke tries to swallow, but it’s as if cotton is filling his throat. The ache from yesterday is growing larger and threatening to wash away the dam. Blinking, his vision blurs with tears he didn’t notice had been building. Sigewinne’s small hands find his face, tilting his gaze towards hers.
“Your Grace, I haven’t seen you this upset since you were a child. What’s wrong?” Sigewinne’s whispers.
Laughter bubbles in his throat as he covers her hands with his. Sigewinne and Neuvillette– once Clorinde– are the only ones who have seen him break. Hot tears continue to flow as he laughs. He has never been the one for social cues. Wriothesley does have the title of Duke, but Archons, he’s a scared child inside some days. Not knowing the loving touch of someone who cares for him. The one man he truly cares for– walked out of his life.
Wriothesley let him live.
He didn’t even fight.
“I let him go, Sige. I let him get on that boat and leave– he left Fontaine. He’s gone,” The Duke laughs as snot runs from his nose, “I didn’t even stop him! I even walked him to the boat. I let him walk away from his job, his home, his people– a-and me.”
Sigewinne’s small hands push harder into his cheeks, forcing him to look up from his desk. Wriothesley can’t– he physically cannot meet her eyes.
“Wriothesley, who did you let get on a boat?” She questions.
Shaking his head, he laughs again. Hot tears flow as he hiccups and his chest heaves. It’s been years since the Duke’s last mental breakdown. He isn’t one for showing emotion– words from his past haunt him. Showing tears is a sign of weakness. Weakness wasn’t allowed in Meropide– he would have been eaten alive. Old habits die hard. Laughing, he pulls Sigewinne into a hug and hangs on. Her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. He can’t stop the tears or laughing– he never got used to handling his emotions. Laughing at inappropriate times, like this for example.
“Neuvillette,”
She tries to pull back, but he buries his face into her soft hair.
“I let Neuvillette leave, and Fontaine will blame me for its failure,” The Duke sobs.
If only Neuvillette knew the mess, he would have left it behind. If he could see into the future the heartbreak he would leave behind. Water will tell him– that it carries past and present emotions. Sigewinne didn’t fight him, she didn’t move from his embrace. The letters fell to the floor when Wriothesley pulled her closer.
Forgotten for now but carrying more emotion than Fontaine could handle.
Tonight, for tonight, Wriothesley will forget his letter. Maybe, he will never read it. He doesn’t hate Neuvillette, no. The Duke hates himself for not offering to go or fighting for his love. Cat got his tongue, the lover in him begging Neuvillette to stay. At the same time, the freedom in him understands the need to spread his wings and fly.
***
“You seem used to the rough waters, Monsieur. Do you travel often?” Neuvillette hears beside him.
Smiling softly, even though the weight on his chest is dragging him to the bottom of the sea.
“No, the waters are rough, but they mean us no harm,” He answers while leaning back against the wall.
The former Iudex is not used to these conditions. He catches himself missing the comfort of his four walls. The desk he sat at every day, the chatter amongst his colleagues, even the trails.
Wriothesley.
Heavens above.
He misses Wriothesley.
Notes:
I am interested in a beta for this piece. If you are interested/have background/dabbled in proof-reading pieces, please reach out via Twitter DMs.
You can find me on here MsAFK
Chapter 3: Hottest, Saddest News in Fontaine
Summary:
Tune in below with the special interview with Duke Wriothesley
Citizens of Fontaine, it is with surprising and heavy news that as of today—Chief of Justice Neuvillette has resigned from his position. As for now, we do not know who will be taking his position, but the help of Duke Wriothesley from the Fortress of Meropide will cover the foreseeable future. Monsieur Neuvillette has left the city of Fontaine in his hands. We as a city will lend our support and our gratitude. We also will miss our Dear Iudex and wish him all the best in his travels.
“Do you know who will be taking his position, Your Grace?”
Notes:
Hello! I hope y'all are well- I want to start with a huge thank you for all your comments, your kudos, and the time for reading this fic. I thought I was sad writing this, but some of your comments make me go "Oh, man I'm more sad now!" I hope to get to your comments soon, I read them then totally got sidetracked by life. I will stop my rambling now- sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. I wrote it, erased it, rewrote it, and now I am throwing it to the wind. It does have more angst than I was expecting. I am nervous about this chapter, but I am so tired of staring daggers at it.
Wriothesley will be going through it for a little bit, please be gentle with him.
Again, comments and kudos are so welcome. Please enjoy and hug Wriothesley <3
Oh! Yes, Wriothesley FINALLY reads his letter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
STEAMBIRD NEWEST & EYE-CATCHING STORY
CHEIF OF JUSTICE NEUVILLETTE HAS RETIRED
Tune in below with the special interview with Duke Wriothesley
Citizens of Fontaine, it is with surprising and heavy news that as of today—Chief of Justice Neuvillette has resigned from his position. As for now, we do not know who will be taking his position, but the help of Duke Wriothesley from the Fortress of Meropide will cover the foreseeable future. Monsieur Neuvillette has left the city of Fontaine in his hands. We as a city will lend our support and our gratitude. We also will miss our Dear Iudex and wish him all the best in his travels.
“Do you know who will be taking his position, Your Grace?”
“I do not know at this time, but for now we will work with what we have.” Duke Wriothesley reported.
In this time of need, please be sure to remember Monsieur Neuvillette, respect his wishes, and lend your support to Duke Wriothesley.
Reporter: Charolette
Sighing, Wriothesley tosses the paper on his desk and rubs his eyes. The pounding in his skull persisted to cause him discomfort. He knew it was from crying all night. He couldn’t remember the last time he sobbed so hard, let alone in front of someone else. He didn’t shed a tear when he had been sentenced to Meropide. More relieved than anything to be off the streets, but terrified to fight for his life in the Fortress.
One underlying rule when he entered Meropide—do not show fear. The safest words he received as a child. The Gardes had been kind enough to let him change before his sentencing. Though a shower had been pushing it, blood was still caked under his fingernails from his so-called parents. Standing before the Iudex and the Hydro Archon had not been as terrifying as he thought. Maybe it had been the adrenaline running through his veins. His sentencing was more of a blessing in disguise. However, as a child, he could not wrap his head around the reason for the endless rain or Lady Furina leaving.
Do. Not. Show. Fear. Repeated like a mantra in his head. Rain poured during his lengthy walk to his forever home. Keep your head down, kid. Do not show fear and keep your nose clean. They could smell fear miles away like bloodthirsty sharks circling the newest meal. The Gardes were his saving grace, but as time counted, he believed more and more Neuvillette saved him from the shadows.
Glancing at the newspaper again, he reads the headline once more ‘ Monsieur Neuvillette has retired’. Angrily pushing the paper off his desk, the Duke slams his hands on Neuvillette’s desk and pushes himself to his feet. The rage coursing through his veins frustrates him—he isn’t mad at Neuvillette. His anger lies within. How could he be so fucking stupid to let Neuvillette leave Fontaine? How could Neuvillette trust Wriothesley to make the right decision for Fontaine and its people? Hands shaking, Wriothesley holds his letter. He should read it, but he can’t bring himself to read it now. Numerous meetings hang over his head like a guillotine, the weight Fontaine now riding on his shoulders. Tucking the letter back into his chest pocket, Wriothesley heaves his aching body away from Neuvi—his desk. Today would drag as much as yesterday and the day before and all he could think about was the silvery dragon that slipped through his fingers.
“Who know I’d be such a fucking sap,” He mutters, grabbing the stack of papers and heading out to the Opera Epiclese.
***
“With that being said, I think we’ll be fine with the Duke sitting in for trials, the Champion Dualist Clorinde running Meropide, and Lady Navia assisting where needed,” Sedene finishes, while Wriothesley stirs his cold tea. It should be Navia or Clorinde sitting in on the trials. Neuvillette had understudies that would fill in for him on the occasion he took off. Though now this would be a longer role to fill and Sedene, Navia, and Clorinde worried they needed more time or would back out. Wriothesley dreads being topside more than he needs to be. The sun on his face was peaceful, but interacting with all of Fontaine was not on his to-do list.
“Your Grace?” Sedene nudges.
Blinking, he sighs before an exhausted smile forces itself on his lips.
“Apologies, Sedene. Yes, I think that will suffice for now. I do not want to spend all my time away from the Fortress. I have faith in Clorinde, but I believe the people of Fontaine will enjoy her face more than mine,” The Duke lies.
If Sedene sees through his lie she does not comment. Silence blankets the room as she clears the desk and packs up the paper from the numerous meetings. Wriothesley couldn’t help being short with everyone. He has no malicious intentions, but the fear that runs through his veins. Navia, Clorinde, Sedene, Sigewinne, and even Neuvillette think he is a perfect fit for this job. How could he—a former criminal—be the best fit for this position? Wriothesley has learned many talents over the years, but this talent isn’t one he has in his deck of cards. Uncertainty eats at his stomach, could also be hunger. He could not recall the last meal that he had or when the last time hunger peeked its head.
“Your Grace, you are overthinking this and I can hear the clogs turning from here,” Sedene stops.
“How can I be overthinking this, Sedene? Pray tell you know what will happen, because I certainly see all of Fontaine rebelling against this decision,” The Duke snaps as he throws his hands into the air.
Sedene levels him with a gaze that would make mere humans shrink back. The Duke, though? Nothing phases him as he stares back, jaw clenching. He truly didn’t mean to have such a short fuse. Little sleep, little food, and too many emotions circling in his gaping chest.
“Your Grace, have you had a chance to read the letter Monsieur Neuvillette has left you?” She asks softly.
Shaking his head, Sedene sighs as she drops into the chair across from his desk. Sedene asked him kindly to stop calling it Neuvillette’s office for all their sakes, but he’s still adjusting. It has only been a day—maybe two at max. But, for Wriothesley it has been a never-ending nightmare and he’s begging to be woken up. Will he wake up tomorrow morning and will Neuvillette be waiting for him in this very office?
No.
Stop.
“I think you should read it—Hearing our endless praises will only make you more frustrated. What is that saying you humans use? From the horse’s mouth?” Sedene questions, a slight frown tugging at her lips. Barking out a laugh, Wriothesley clutches at his sides. Never in his life did he ever think he would hear someone call Neuvillette a horse. Nor did he think Sedene would struggle with simple human fugitive speech.
“It has been a few days, but we have all missed your carefree attitude, Your Grace. Please, think it over, read his letter, and please have faith in yourself,”
“Easier said than done, Sedene. But I will try for your sake and his,” Wriothesley mutters.
Nodding, Sedene grabs the tray of old tea and heads for the door. Gently closing the door behind her, Wriothesley slumps against the desk. The day is finally coming to an end, but long from over. He rolls his head over the cool surface replaying Sedene’s words as if they were a broken record. Curious prying at his aching bones, did Neuvillette mention him in everyone’s letter? He still had to track down Furina to give her Neuvillette’s letter. Furina hasn’t stepped foot out of her room since he broke the news. Clorinde attempted to coax her out, but Furina slammed the door in her face. Navia wasn’t ready to apologize and Wriothesley did not have the mental capacity to play referee. Closing his eyes, Wriothesley prays to Celestia above for some rest. Tomorrow holds more meetings, more fake smiles, and more heartbreak.
“Oh, Neuvillette. I hope Sumeru is treating you kindly,” He mutters as sleep pulls him under.
***
Seven long days have passed.
Seven long days with Wriothesley at the center of every ticking minute. Collectively a single day of sleep, maybe four days of food, and a short fuse. The Duke has been consoling most of the city and the Fortress of Meropide. His eggs are in too many baskets, and he wants to do nothing more than hide away. Running Meropide let him hide from everyone—no one could find him unless he wanted to be found. In the city of Fontaine? He stuck out like a sore thumb, and everyone had something to say.
From eager mothers and fathers offering their daughters' hands in marriage (did Neuvillette have to deal with this!?) To the angry women about Neuvillette leaving (get in line hags, I am just as upset as you are.) To the endless chatter of what is going to happen to Fontaine. Yes, that is the underlying question.
What is going to happen to Fontaine?
Glancing around the office, the sun has officially set, and the room has dropped in degrees. His stomach pleads for something, anything at this point. Maybe one of Sigewinne’s special shakes to cheer her up. The Duke knew what would happen to Fontaine—he just needed to read Neuvillette’s letter. He needs to read it, an unbearable ache in his heart. His brain has been cruel and unforgiving about the dire circumstances. Glancing at the letter on the desk, he pulls it closer.
What is going to happen to Fontaine?
The question repeats like a mantra in his head as he stares at holes in the letter.
“Get the fuck over yourself, Wriothesley. Rip the band-aid off, do it,” He mutters.
He should have read it when Neuvillette first handed him his letter, but he was too scared. The Duke couldn’t bring himself to read his last letter from Neuvillette. If he read it, it would be the final nail in the coffin. The coffin was his heart, and the nightmare would be real. Neuvillette would be gone still, and there would be no going back. Clenching his jaw, Wriothesley turns to the gramophone in Neuvillette’s—his new office, letting the needle drop onto the record. One he would play if Neuvillette were here with him.
Sinking into the chair where guests would sit, Wriothesley thumbed over his name one more time. It’s been one week without Neuvillette’s gentle smile, quiet laugh, and dry sense of humor. The Duke was sure he was going mad—he swore he saw Neuvillette in the Opera Epiclese. Sitting in the back row, long legs crossed, while simply observing the trials. The Duke almost broke his neck to catch a glimpse of who was there. It has only been a mere fragment of his imagination. Chest aching, he flips over the simple white envelope. Trembling fingers gently pull out several pages. Chuckling to himself, he settles back into the chair. Inhaling deeply, the papers smell of the slice of heaven Wriothesley has been searching for all week. The warm sea breeze and lavender dance around him as he breathes.
My Dearest Wriothesley,
Has a week passed, Your Grace? Or should I say the newest Chief of Justice? In your words, ‘Nothing gets passed you, Your Honor,’. I can hear you rolling your eyes from here, I am only poking fun at you, my dear friend. I knew it would take you a week to read my letters, so why don’t I set the mood for you? You say human traditions are silly but let’s be sentimental together for once. Let me take you to the place where I wrote these letters. You were never topside when I wrote these because you would have found me… It rained for several days leading up to my departure. There was no sadness in my decision to leave. Sadness lay in having to break the news to you. Before I continue, why don’t you make your way to my townhome? The very place we shared our first kiss. I would bet all the Mora in both our accounts that you thought I forgot… I did not. I’ll wait for you to arrive, the key to my home is in the top drawer of my desk. Safe travels, Wriothesley.
Sniffling, Wriothesley climbs to his feet while angrily pushing the tears from his flushed cheeks. Why did Neuvillette never say anything? The Duke had been certain Neuvillette didn’t want to remember their brushing of lips that evening. Yanking open the top drawer; he blindly reaches for the key Neuvillette mentioned. His chest burns, his body fighting for the air he cannot take in. His thoughts ran wild—why didn’t Neuvillette mention the kiss? Why didn’t Neuvillette confess to him then and there? Why didn’t he confess that evening? Fingers brush cold metal as he pulls the key out. Shoving it into his pocket, he spins on his heel and briskly walks out of the Palais Mermonia. He doesn’t worry about who could see him stomp out—Wriothesley sent everyone home early. Leaving him alone with his thoughts, the letter, and mountains of paperwork.
His boots are loud compared to the silence that graced the streets. It is well into the night when Wriothesley opens Neuvillette’s letter. Shaking his head, he quickens his pace. He knew the path like the back of his hand, having walked Neuvillette home many times before. Many nights holding an umbrella so Neuvillette wouldn’t get wet while the Duke’s entire right side would be soaked to the bone. Fontaine hasn’t seen unexpected rain in an entire week. Wriothesley has come to hate the sun. He used to crave a slice of the sunny days, but after this entire week—he wishes to see a droplet of rain. Wishing to blame his sour mood on other than Neuvillette.
Neuvillette’s townhouse comes into view as Wriothesley climbs the hill. Sighing, he fishes for the key that has settled deep into his pocket. Pulling the key out, he reaches for the door handle. Hesitantly, he shakes off his nerves. It feels almost wrong to enter Neuvillette’s home without him, but Wriothesley had been given permission. He was probably the only person—other than Furina—allowed to enter Neuvillette’s home. Turning the key, he hears the lock click and gently pushes the door open.
The foyer and hallway are bathed in moonlight while the rest of the bottom floor is pitch black. He’s tempted to call out hello, desperately wishing to hear Neuvillette’s reply. He knew that was false hope he’d been clinging to, but it couldn’t hurt.
It did hurt, it hurt so much. Following the dark hallway, he doesn’t bother with the lights. Too afraid to face the grim reality that Neuvillette would not be waiting for him in the kitchen with dinner cooking. He removes his jacket, dropping it on the counter. Pushing open the balcony doors, he reaches for the bottle of whiskey that sits on the drinking cart to his left. Sinking into the cold chair, Wriothesley takes one last deep breath. Pulling the whiskey top off, he slumps into his seat, ready for the words that have been burning a hole in his pocket.
I take it you have finally arrived at my home—I would say get yourself a glass of water, but you would tell me no. Maybe not a glass of water, but that awful, burning drink you had that one evening. Always so stubborn, Your Grace… Here is where you would tell me to get on with it. You can carry all the Fortress of Meropide on your shoulders. I have watched from the dark for many years now. You can lead others to victory, no matter the hand you have been dealt. I believe you to do just the same with the new position you have. I trust you; I have always trusted you. You were the first to know about what/who I am. I do not regret that, and I know you will take that with you until the day you pass. I would say good luck, but you will succeed, you will.
Wriothesley chuckles wetly as his throat burns, the tears threatening to flow but he can’t.
Not yet.
Now. That kiss. Yes. I do remember that kiss from all those months ago. I was surprised, but it was not unwelcome. I never thought I would meet someone—let alone a human that would captivate my waking and sleeping dreams. Not until I met you, Wriothesley. At first, I kept my distance. As we both know, I am five hundred years your senior. Some would think that would be a delicate age gap. I know you are waving me off as we speak.
How did Neuvillette know him so well? Fingers trembling, he bites his lip, sinking his teeth in to draw his attention away from the ache in his heart. A single tear drops from his eye as his chest heaves, the ache growing, the hole in his chest growing larger and larger as he reads.
I thought if I kept you at arm’s length like everyone else, I would not want you. But want you, I did. Do you remember when I said no personal relations with a single human being? Then talking to the Traveler, I caught myself saying I had personal relations with you, Your Grace. You broke through all my walls; you pulled the rug from under my feet—by caring. Simple acts of kindness, the brushing of fingers, or the whispered praises late at night. I thought I could do it, I thought I could let you in with no repercussions. Tea turned into dinner, dinner turned into late-night wine, and late-night wine turned into my heart yearning for you. The mere mention of your name would perk up my mood. Safe to say, after five hundred years—I got to taste love. You showed me what love is, Wriothesley.
Choking on his sobs, the Duke sets aside the letter as he replays the words in his head. He showed Neuvillette love while Neuvillette showed him what it felt like to be cared for. Blurring vision, he pulled the letter closer so he could try again.
To think I tried so hard to not fall in love with you. You don’t see how ruggedly handsome you are, nor do you say how you care for others. I have watched you not once, but multiple times offer your hand in times of need and have a gentle and heart-felt smile gracing your lips. When… When we thought the prophecy would be fulfilled, I did not care for Fontainians the way I should. I cared about you; I cared about if you could stand against the raging sea. My heart lies with you, Wriothesley and I feared the worst when the Traveler found me that day. I knew you could handle yourself, but I was still worried. You never cease to amaze me, Your Grace. I knew I never had to worry, but when you taste love—you worry.
Clenching his chest with his right hand, Wriothesley could feel the hole in his heart—bleeding and gaping. Neuvillette reached in with pretty his claws, squeezed his heart, and wrenched it out. Packaging it up neatly, wrapping it with ribbon and a bow to carry with him through Teyvat. Leaving Wriothesley with the jarred, bloody strings hanging loosely from the enormous hole in his chest.
I’m not running from you; I have every intention to come home—to come home to you… once someone can answer the endless questions I have about my existence. You have the Archons to guide you. For myself, I have no one and Focalors’ words did not ease the discomfort I have. Something tells me that I have not eased your worries, which I understand. I bared my heart to you through a letter, never giving you the chance to have closure or confess the love you have. I loved you in the dark, I will continue to love you in the dark as we are oceans apart. But as much as it pains me to say this.
Please move on, please find someone else to love you the way you deserve to be loved. Please, do not come looking for me. Even though, I wish to share this journey with you. I could not ask you to drop your entire life to find myself. So, for me, for you—Move on, Wriothesley. Find someone who can heal the scars I left on your heart. Find someone that can make you smile in your darkest moments. Find someone that deserves you… Do not settle, promise me. Live your life to the fullest, settle down, and never forget me.
I love you, Wriothesley.
Yours enterally,
Neuvillette
Yours enterally.
Yours enterally.
Yours enterally.
Rage, sorrow, heartbreak.
A million emotions pour into his veins as he rereads the ending paragraph. What a fucking coward. Of course, Neuvillette would confess his undying love and ask him to move on in the same breath. How could Neuvillette ask him to move on and give someone else his heart when Neuvillette’s carrying it through Tevyat at this very second? Wriothesley would never move on. He had no desire to bed another human, nor did he have the desire to fall in love with someone who wasn’t Neuvillette. Scrubbing his cheeks, he crumbles the letter and tosses it over his shoulder. He would regret that later, for now, he wanted to smash his brains into the patio table.
Neuvillette is a coward.
But so is Wriothesley.
Two pining idiots who do not know how to open their mouths. The cool night air wraps around him as he thinks back to the warmth from Neuvillette’s lips that evening eons ago. The warmth settles in his chest as his teeth chatter. The Dragon’s bed sat behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to climb into the very bed that smelled of him. The wind swirls around him as the storm continues to brew inside him and around him. The rain the Duke has begged to wash away his sorrows only fuels the festering ache.
“I’m not saying goodbye, Neuvillette. You are fucking insane if you think I’m giving up on you,” He breathes into the night air. His body slumps deeper into the chair as Wriothesley sobs into his trembling hands. The answers he has been seeking are finally answered, but it only raises more as the night drags on for the seventh time this week. Resting his head against the cold metal of the outdoor patio table, Wriothesley closes his eyes and prays for the Archons to strike him down now. After a long, terrible weak— thunderclaps over his head and the rain pours. Not soft, nor gentle like when Neuvillette’s emotions were drifting through them.
Anger, bitterness, and sorrow pelt his body as the rain beat into him. Soaking into his clothes, his hair, and his very bearing. The rain he has been asking for soaks his tears. Wriothesley thought the ache in his heart couldn’t grow any larger, but as the rain fell.
He begs for someone, anyone to put him out of this miserable aching pain.
“Archons, I hope you go fuck yourself, Neuvillette. You worthless coward,” Wriothesley spits, lifting the bottle of whiskey to his lips.
***
Head jerking, Neuvillette glances behind him. Thunderclaps in the distance as he watches sheets of rain cover Fontaine. He arrived in Sumeru a few days ago, but his heart asked him to stay close to the borderline. To watch over Fontaine for a few days—he wasn’t worried. Something deep down, those age-old instincts, asked him to stay. The wind whips around him, taking the hood of his cape off his head. His long locks swirl in the wind as he watches the onslaught.
“Did you read my letter finally, Wriothesley?” He softly wonders aloud as the wind continues to repeatedly beat against him. Is this how Fontaine felt when his emotions were uncontrollable? Watching from a distance is as if he is looking at how his life used to be. Neuvillette couldn’t complain. His life had been well in Fontaine for many years. Now obtaining his full power as the Hydro Sovereign. He has countless questions, he needs answers.
Glancing back at Fontaine, his hands ache. The power courses through his body, not as strong since he isn’t residing in his nation. He wishes to be back in his office across from Wriothesley. He wishes to see the smile that captured his heart all those years ago. The laughter would wrap itself around his body in its jolly cocoon. He begs to see Wriothesley.
“I’m sorry, my beloved. I promise to come back before you are old and gray,” Neuvillette softly whispers into the night sky.
“Hydro Sovereign?” A voice pulls him back. Sighing, Neuvillette turns to the man behind him and the young girl. He didn’t plan on meeting with his traveling companions for another day or two. They arrive early to collect samples from Fontaine’s water. The young girl rubs her eyes as a sleepy smile graces her face. Neuvillette has noticed the young girl smiles more than General Mahamatra does. Though, he does crack… oh, what would Wriothesley call them? Dad jokes! He tells a lot of dad jokes that make Collei groan in pain.
“Ah, forgive me. It hasn’t stormed in Fontaine for almost a week now. Watching it… is almost bittersweet,” Neuvillette fake smiles.
General Mahamatra nods but jerks his thumb behind him, “Collei has all her samples, I have finished my business. We can stay in the neighboring city for the evening, then we can continue back home. I have a few friends who would be interested in meeting you. Plus, I know the Dendro Archon would love to see you.”
“We can’t forget about the Grand Scribe,” Collei offers as a yawn escapes her.
“Please do not mention his name, but yes. The Acting Grand Scribe would enjoy meeting you as well. Come on, I’ve already sorted out our rooms and you to bed young lady,” General Mahamatra guides the exhausted girl.
Humming, Neuvillette glances back one last time to his home. The rain continues to beat against the nation. His heart aches as he pulls his hood tighter around himself. He hopes Wriothesley has read his letter because another one will arrive soon. Keeping his promise, this is the only way he has communicated with Wriothesley. He does hope the Duke reads his letter and prays he doesn’t move on. Neuvillette doesn’t plan on being gone forever nor does he wish for Wriothesley to wait.
He is selfish.
“It is okay to be selfish once in and while, Monsieur,” Wriothesley’s words bounce around in his skull.
He is a coward.
Neuvillette is selfish, those dragon instincts claw at his insides, begging for him to turn around and head home. Screaming, clawing, and snarling for Neuvillette to return home to the mate it had decided on. His–no not his but, who he desperately wants to be his— suffers due to his selfishness, although Wriothesley lets him leave. Wriothesley let him willingly get on that boat without batting an eye. Neuvillette hopes—prays that Wriothesley is waiting for him to return.
“Farewell, my beloved,” Neuvillette whispers turning away from his nation, his home, and his love.
Notes:
I will hopefully be posting more on Twitter, it has been some time since I have been so in love with writing. You can catch me on there for updates <3
Chapter 4: Planting the Seed
Summary:
Scrubbing his week-old stubble, Wriothesley glances around the Opera Epiclese. His back aches from sleeping at the desk in his– Neuvillette’s old office. He cannot bring himself to call Neuvillette’s office his new home. It tastes foreign on his tongue to call it his when it used to be a vacation spot. Even his office in the Fortress of Meropide wasn’t welcoming anymore. Left leg bouncing, Wriothelsey watches the room filled with common folk and reporters. Since Wriothesley has taken Neuvillette’s spot (for now) endless reporters have followed him around. From the time the sun rises, with bright and early rises to the setting sun and workers going home.
Notes:
Hello everyone!
I hope you are all well, I do apologize for the delay of this chapter. I deleted it, rewrote it, deleted it again, and then finally decided to throw it out there. I struggled with this chapter more than others. I have finally moved away from the writer's block that I had. I believe it's due to bringing more characters in and I am trying desperately to not write them OOC. Enough about how difficult this chapter was- let's get to the overview.
In this chapter, we travel to Sumeru! We finally meet Tighnari!
I will not be tagging every character in this story since the main focus is Wriolette. I will state in the author's notes where we are and who we will see. I will also state who's POV. Most likely we will see Wriothesley's POV, but in the next chapters, we will see Neuvillette's POV be the main focus.With all that being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Comments and Kudos are always welcome <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Two weeks have come and gone.
He blinked and Neuvillette’s sudden departure still sour in his mouth. Fontaine and its people are still shocked by their Archon falling and the Chief of Justice departing. The Duke doesn’t blame them, he wishes he could extend more of his thoughts and actions. But, he is also suffering– He is still picking up the pieces from his broken heart and others. Wriothelsey watches from the office window. Shocked the sun still warms his skin, and he watches the citizens below shielding his eyes. The walls around his heart are thrown high and tall. His eyes ache from the never-ending blinding sun rays. Rays that he used to yearn for, but now he wishes to hide away.
“Your Grace,” A voice gently calls.
Not turning from the window, Wriothesley nods his head.
“Your next case is soon, you best be leaving soon,”
Sighing, Wriothesley inclines his head. Neuvillette’s departure has aged him before his time. His body aches, his mind races, and his will is broken.
But as Furina always says– the show must go on. Criminals don’t take breaks and the city never rests. Court cases still need to be heard, victims need justice, and Wriothesley? Wriothesley needs a good night’s sleep and his thoughts to not think of Neuvillette. Shutting the window, Wriothesley turns and wishes for rain.
Rain that will never come.
***
Scrubbing his week-old stubble, Wriothesley glances around the Opera Epiclese. His back aches from sleeping at the desk in his– Neuvillette’s old office. He cannot bring himself to call Neuvillette’s office his new home. It tastes foreign on his tongue to call it his when it used to be a vacation spot. Even his office in the Fortress of Meropide wasn’t welcoming anymore. Left leg bouncing, Wriothelsey watches the room filled with common folk and reporters. Since Wriothesley has taken Neuvillette’s spot (for now) endless reporters have followed him around. From the time the sun rises, with bright and early rises to the setting sun and workers going home.
Wriothesley narrowly missed them in the mornings when he dragged himself out of bed. (when he made it to his bed. Lately, the office desk or the couch has been his bed.) The hungry vultures tried to schedule meetings with him but thanked the Archons for Sedene for canceling them. If he didn’t have Sedene, he would have surely gone insane two weeks ago. His left leg continues to bounce while waiting for the room to settle. He could call order, but his throat aches from the sobbing the night before.
“Your Grace?” Navia whispers beside him.
“Yes?” Pulling him from his thoughts, his gaze meets gentle rays of blue.
“Would you like to start or would you rather I take the lead?” Navia asks softly as she nods to the growing crowd around them.
No.
He’s a natural-born leader but Wriothesley has no willpower to command this room. That was Neuvillette’s job. He would like to crawl back to the Fortress of Meropide to never be seen. His body is worn, his nerves shot to hell, and his brain is fried from the meetings, the sleepless nights, and the yearning in his heart.
So no. He did not want to lead the hearing.
“No, but thank you, Navia. I was lost in thought, there’s no need to worry,” He attempts to smile, but it barely ghosts his ragged face.
***
Fury laces his veins as Wriothesley watches the now convict escorted out of the room. Red invades his vision– his teeth clenching as the convict screams and kicks. Clorinde is hot on his heels as he whines about a mistrial. He screeches that Wriothesley’s worthless scum that doesn’t know how to run a nation. That Neuvillette had been idiotic for leaving Wriothesley of all people in charge. That the Duke is in over his head and will never succeed. Wriothesley’s hands shake as he watches. Reporters snapping pictures of the man, Clorinde, Navia, and hopefully not Wriothesley. He wishes to return to his water fortress.
‘Take your worthless, uneducated, handsome face back to wear the likes of you belong, boy,’ the Convict snarled.
Odd choice of words, Wriothesley thinks irritability as he snatches the papers off the desk in front of him. He turns on his heel, heading for the spare office where he could sneak a nap, maybe a cup of tea— no. He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. He has done a marvelous job not thinking about— Neuvillette.
Fuck.
Rubbing a hand down his face, he prays no one is looking at him. He hasn’t been on his A-game for a week now. Neuvillette’s confession tore him to shreds. The sky opened for him and wept with him—even the Archons could feel his pain. He wasn’t angry– scratch that, he’s livid with Neuvillette. The man he’s been pining for confesses his undying love in… in a fucking letter. Thankful for the wind last night, it blew the letter under the wet bar so it didn’t get washed away in the downpour. Someone had been looking out for him. The letter burns a hole in his back pocket as he walks. Thoughts consumed with the thoughts of Neuvillette and his piss-poor confession. Shaking his head, that wasn’t what he meant. It was a beautiful confession, but why couldn’t Neuvillette say it to his face?
“Your Grace?”
Jerking his head, he turns away from Navia. His patience runs thinner each day hanging on by a single silk strand. He hasn’t spoken aloud what Neuvillette confessed nor has Wriothesley admitted where his feelings lie. He’s sure Clorinde and Sigewine know where he stands, but he isn’t ready. If he were to speak his thoughts on the matter… maybe the ghost would disappear. Or maybe, the ghost would transform into his waking nightmare. Maybe, he likes the pain of the ghost hanging over his shoulder. The endless dark cloud is his halo as he walks. Wriothesley could hear Navia calling for him, but he didn’t want to stop. If he stopped, someone would spot the cracks in his armor. His armor initially had dents, but now it’s falling apart. Barley hanging on by a thread, unprotected skin showing to every passing civilian, ready to stab him in the opening they have. Whether it’s with their judgment or their physical daggers, who knows?
“Wriothesley!” A firm hand yanks on his arm, pulling him to a startling stop.
Growling, he spins around ready to strike whoever thought they could put their hands on him. Long blonde locks come into view as Navia holds her ground. Her light blue eyes are wide, but she isn’t backing down from his snarl.
“I understand your frustrations, Wriothesley, but if you don’t let someone in— you will break. I have been there, please do not shut us out,” Navia begs as Wriothesley steps back.
“I appreciate your concern, but let me go, ” He yanks his arm away.
Clorinde would definitely be having a word with him about his behavior. For now, he doesn’t give a flying fuck. Wriothesley’s brain begging for peace, a reprieve, something from the hell his waking life is. Turning on his heel, Wriothesley shakes off her attempts to stop him. He doesn’t want her words of wisdom, her clear guidance, or shit. He’ll apologize later, he will, and he vows to amend the pain he caused.
“I’m sorry, Navia,” He mutters as he gently closes the door to Neuvillette’s side office. Closing his eyes, he rests his head against the door and listens for footsteps. Not many people knew of Neuvillette’s office here. Wriothesley had only visited a handful of times before his departure. Chest heaving, he reaches for the letter in his pocket sliding down the door. Fingers shaking he reads through Neuvillette’s confession again. His throat aches, but he will not let the tears fall again.
***
“I cannot believe you, Wriothelsey. What has come over you?” Clorinde snaps, shaking Wriothelsey from his thoughts. Glancing up from the document in his hands, Wriothelsey catches Clorinde’s cool expression. He hasn’t seen her this upset since her duel with Navia’s father. Crossing his arms, he leans against the desk, waiting for her to continue ranting. Her heels click on the marble beneath her feet as she stomps to him. She’s a head shorter than Wriothesley but that doesn’t stop the fear courses through his veins. Wriothesley stands his ground as she points a perfectly manicured nail into his chest. Her jaw clenches as her gaze stares him down. Gulping, Wriothesley slowly holds up hands as a sign of truce. He knew the word of his behavior would find Clorinde. Her precious little girlfriend would express concern when Clorinde smells bloodlust.
“Listen, Clorinde. I will apologize, I didn’t mean to snap at her. I regretted it the moment I turned around–”
“Snapped at who? What are you talking about?” She asks, pushing her nail deeper into the meat of his chest.
A small “o” takes over his lips as he waits for Clorinde to explain her sudden mood. He thought it had to do with Navia and it seemed he was wrong. Her deep purple eyes gaze up at him as she steps back, her hand dropping to her side.
“I heard from Sigewinne you haven’t been home to sleep in your bed. Then, I heard from Sedene that you have been sleeping here. You went to Neuvillette’s townhouse one night and that’s it. You cannot keep burning the midnight oil, it will put you into an early grave,” She lowers her voice, concern shadowing her features.
Sighing, Wriothesley runs a hand over his face, fingers grazing the five o’clock shadow. He doesn’t remember the last time he shaved or showered. It looks like Navia kept their early spat to herself although Wriothesley wishes she mentioned it. He would rather talk about his attitude than his sleeping habits. Closing his eyes meant he would have to confront the ghost waiting for him. Images of long silvery locks cloud his vision while lilac pools stare endlessly at him. The ghost of long nimble fingers across his cheek as he waits for the ghost to reappear. Fluttering kisses against his lips that he will never get to feel. His heart stings as he thinks about Neuvillette’s ghost waiting for him to close his eyes.
“Wriothesley?” Clorinde asks softly, shaking him from his waking nightmare.
“It’s nothing, Clorinde. I don’t want to go home, it’s too long of a walk, and going to Neuvillette’s doesn’t feel right,” Wriothesley mutters.
Clorinde sits in the chair adjacent to the desk, crossing her legs as Wriothesley stares at the floor. He knows she’s waiting for him to crack, they have been here multiple times. He can count on one hand how many people have seen him break. He trusts Clorinde with his life, but admitting the ghost that hangs over him would wash away the reminiscence.
“I didn’t know we were back to lying to each other. It has been a tiring two weeks for all of us— you especially. I’m not here to hound you, I’m here to help you. Let me in, Wrio. Please,” Clorinde presses while pinching the bridge of her nose.
If Wriothesley were anyone else, they would call Clorinde rude or apathetic with her gestures. But to Wriothesley this is how they communicate. They were not the touchy-feely type, they did not get into their emotions and hold hands. Normally, their talks of emotions would be done in the Pankration Ring. Instead of talking they could be punching their feelings out. He would have gear to protect his bleeding heart instead of paper-thin clothes.
Clenching his fist, Wriothesley turns to face the window, the sun dipping below the mountains. Painting the room in oranges, reds, and fading yellows from the long day.
“I wish I could say I’m not keeping you out, Clorinde. I think I’m keeping everyone out, it’s not just you. We both know it has been two weeks of pure hell, the entire Nation has us under a microscope, “pausing he licks his lips, recalling the letter in his pocket, “I read Neuvillette’s letter to me. I delivered all his last wishes and he wrote me a letter– a letter about his feelings for me. Do you understand what it’s like to receive a letter from someone you have adored but still left you?”
Clorinde opens her mouth but the words are spilling from Wriothesley like an open faucet.
“No, you do. You know what it’s like to be in love but the person despises you. You carry a torch like I do. We are the same you and I, but your person is still here while… mine is gone. I don’t even know if I will see him in this lifetime again,” Wriothesley finishes dropping his head into his hands.
Clorinde doesn’t speak, silence blankets the room as Wriothesley's shoulders sags. The pressing weight slowly lifts as he continues to speak.
“If he doesn’t come back– what will happen to Fontaine? What will happen to me? Will we be destined to communicate through letters until I die? We both know he isn’t human. I’ve known longer than I care to admit. He left me, Clorinde. I let him walk onto that ship… I let him leave me, you, the people of Fontaine because he deserves to know who he is. Why couldn’t I be selfish?” He asks as he turns to her.
Clorinde’s gaze sweeps over his face as she shakes her head. She attempts to stand but Wriothesley shakes his head. He’s too afraid that if she were to touch him the tears would fall. He would shatter at her feet and she would be stuck putting him back together. He’s fragile, he’s broken— it’s as if he’s a kid again. Searching for safety, the comfort of a loving parents’ embrace. Searching for anyone to care for him, the scared, broken child.
“Would you forgive yourself if you begged him to stay? You know the falling of Furina damaged not just her but Neuvillette. For many years, they both believed that she had been the main key to the prophecy. Would you?” Clorinde asks softly.
Turning his body, Wriothesley hides his face because he doesn’t want her to see his eyes watering. He swears softly before scrubbing his eyes.
“No, I wouldn’t. He deserves to be free, to find himself. But, why did he have to confess his love for me– through a fucking letter, Clorinde.” Wriothesley spits, anger clouding his tone.
“Maybe he couldn’t do it to your face. The same way you struggle with your emotions. You are both emotionally stunted men, Wrio. You’re at least human and we have no idea what Neuvillette is. He has even stated that he doesn’t do interpersonal relationships, but you broke that barrier with him.”
Rubbing his chin, Wriothesley knows that Clorinde is right. She’s speaking from experience, plus she has watched them dance around each other since Wriothesley took his position. Years of dancing around their emotions, their stunted, ridiculous emotions. He would tease Clorinde about her inability to talk to Navia without stuttering. Where he would be tripping over his own two feet when Neuvillette even glanced at him. Tuning back to the window, he watches the sun disappear behind the mountains. Another day gone, another day wasted. Another day added to Neuvillette’s absence. Another day of Wriothesley pretending to be something he's not.
“C’mon, let’s go get wasted. I’ll call Navia to join us, you know she’s a good cook. We can swap our letters,” Wriothesley shoots her a look as she smirks, “What? I’m curious to see Neuvillette confessed to you. Come on, Wrio. No one will know you are out, everyone believes you moved into the Palace.”
Snorting, Wriothesley reaches for his jacket. Throwing it over his shoulder, he gives Clorinde a small smile. Her face brightens as her hands grasp his bicep. Her fingers gently squeeze before letting go.
“I’m proud of you, Wrio. I know this must be difficult for you, but we’ll get through this together. It’s not like you can run all over Teyvat looking for Neuvillette, sometimes staying and waiting is the best we can do.”
“Yeah… Maybe,”
***
Wriothesley,
Writing to you will not feel the same— I want to hear from you, knowing a letter will most likely never come. Am I saddened by this? Yes, because I miss you desperately. I miss our late-night chats. I miss our tea outings on late Sunday mornings. This morning I rose thinking I’d be seeing you today… I had been proven wrong by a knock at my door. I woke up thinking I was still in Fontaine. This is quite funny now that I think about it because this dry heat is not for me. I could not live in this weather.
This pain that we are both carrying— I hope to make it up to you someday. I hope you save a cup of tea for me, even though we both know I prefer water. I savored our last cup of tea. You didn’t know the burden I had been carrying, but you told me you would always lend me an ear. The fear that was plaguing me when I thought about leaving. I hope you save me that cup of tea, I hope you lend me your ear when I return. To tell you all my travels, my discoveries, and my love.
Save me a tea while I save you a story.
Forever yours,
Neuvillette
A knock sounds at his door pulling Neuvillette from his thoughts. Sighing, he turns from the window. The morning air is already humid and uncomfortable. Wiping his brow, he reaches for the door right as another knock sounds.
“Pardon me, I didn’t know you were right behind the door,” the young girl from the other day jumps back. Green locks shimmering in the rising sun, a smile graces her lips. Pink dusts her cheeks as she wrings her fingers together.
“No worries, Miss Collei. I’ve been awake, I just finished a letter to send back home,” Neuvillette nods as he steps out of his room.
“That’s wonderful! I’m sure your Nation would love to hear from you… unless it’s to someone special back home,” She smiles as she gestures for her to follow him.
Smiling, Neuvillette turns his gaze to the wonderful vibrant greens around them. The General– Cyno dropped Collei and him off with the Forest Rangers yesterday afternoon. Another man would travel through in a few days to take him to Sumeru City. However, it appears the man is running a day or two behind due to a project extension. Neuvillette didn’t mean mind though, he could learn more from the Forest Rangers. He has been rising with them and attending easier missions.
Luckily with the Traveller crossing paths with the Forest Rangers, Neuvillette hasn’t had trouble. He enjoys that everyone isn’t staring at him like the citizens of Fontaine. He knows people are eyeing him, but they smile and nod. He’s an outsider but he isn’t being watched under a microscope.
“Ah, Neuvillette. How are you doing?” A voice calls from behind them.
Collei spins around as Neuvillette turns his head to catch large fox-like ears coming into view.
“Good morning, Tighnari. I thought we were on our way to find you,” Neuvillette questions as they fall into step with the Head Forest Ranger.
“I had to make a slight detour. I’ve been given word that we have to fetch your guide. A distress letter came early in the morning. Cyno's already on his way to retrieve the acting Grand Scribe. We’re going to meet them halfway so we can save Kaveh,” he huffs.
“You don’t sound that urgent or upset over this?” Neuvillette notes as Collei grabs his bag and hands it to him.
“No, I know Alhaitham will be worried enough for all of us. Those two have issues to work through, but Alhaitham cares for Kaveh. We’re tagging along in case it gets sticky,”
Nodding, Neuvillette reaches into his breast pocket. Collei would not be joining them since she is still recovering from an illness. Neuvillette hopes to ask Tighnari about it– Neuvillette remembers receiving some letters back months before the Traveller arrived.
“Miss Collei, if you could please send this letter off for me. It would be much appreciated,” Neuvillette smiles softly, looking at Wriothesley's name.
“Of course, Mr. Neuvillette. You can count on me, it’s early enough that it should be sent out this morning,” She salutes before rushing off.
Chuckling, he turns to see Tighnari waiting for him.
“I’m ready when you are,” Neuvillette offers.
Nodding, Tighnari pulls his bow from his back and they set off into the dense brush. Neuvillette smiles sadly thinking about the cup of tea that would be waiting for him. Heart aching, Neuvillette pushes through. Because he knows back in Fontaine, Wriothesley would be doing the same.
Notes:
I hope to not go a full two months without an update. I have a few events that will be wrapping up soon, but I am also in the Wriolette Bang! So that project will be my main focus for some time until it posts!
Wishing you all the best!
Chapter 5: Soiled Sheets and Missing Beats
Summary:
Long, slender fingers run through his messy hair, stirring him awake from restless sleep. Blinking into the dark room, Wriothesley groans as his hard cock brushes against his boxers. Uncomfortable, but he shrugs it off. The furthest thought from his mind right now is pleasure. The weeping hole in his heart still stings from Neuvillette– his confession, his departure, his missing piece. Fingernails continue to scratch his scalp, causing his body to melt into the silk sheets he has come to love.
“My love,” A familiar voice calls softly.
Wriothesley blinks his eyes, struggling to untangle himself from the simple sheet wrapped around his waist. Swearing loudly Wriothesley pulls the blanket out from underneath him as he tumbles over the edge. Warm, solid hands grab his arms, catching him before he crashes into the hardwood floor. His hands wrap around soft, but solid thighs causing the other’s breath to stutter as Wriothesley leans his head back.
Wriothesley believes his love has returned, their night is young. But how young?
Notes:
My goodness, time flies! So sorry about the silence on updates! I couldn't form a single thought. I hope I made up for it.
I do apologize for this chapter. I might be a little rusty. Also, sorry for the short chapter update! There will be more for the next chapter!!
Check the tags and ratings, because it has changed!
As always, comments and kudos are welcomed! <3
Chapter Text
Long, slender fingers run through his messy hair, stirring him awake from restless sleep. Blinking into the dark room, Wriothesley groans as his hard cock brushes against his boxers. Uncomfortable, but he shrugs it off. The furthest thought from his mind right now is pleasure. The weeping hole in his heart still stings from Neuvillette– his confession, his departure, his missing piece. Fingernails continue to scratch his scalp, causing his body to melt into the silk sheets he has come to love.
“My love,” A familiar voice calls softly.
Wriothesley blinks his eyes, struggling to untangle himself from the simple sheet wrapped around his waist. Swearing loudly Wriothesley pulls the blanket out from underneath him as he tumbles over the edge. Warm, solid hands grab his arms, catching him before he crashes into the hardwood floor. His hands wrap around soft, but solid thighs causing the other’s breath to stutter as Wriothesley leans his head back.
He couldn’t believe his eyes, he closed his eyes and counted to ten before opening them again. Wriothesley stares dumbfoundedly at gentle lavender pools. He submerges himself into liquid galaxies, his chin quivering as he slowly reaches for Neuvillette’s cheek. His fingers gaze at soft, porcelain skin. Neuvillette’s gaze widens as he takes in Wriothesley's face. Wriothesley has half a mind to hide his features, he doesn’t want Neuvillette to see how his leaving has taken a toll on the Duke. He tries to turn away, but Neuvillette catches his chin, tipping Wriothesley’s head back. Neuvillette leans forward as his fingers trace Wriothesley's beard, his sharp intake of breath his music to the Duke’s ears. Rosy pink kisses Neuvillette’s cheeks as he continues tracing Wriothesley’s cheeks and nose under his eyes. He opens his mouth, “When was your last night of good rest?”
Wriothesley laughs humorlessly as Neuvillette’s eyebrows pull together. His lips set in a hard line as Wriothesley snorted.
“Neuvi, it’s been weeks since I last slept peacefully. But, I think you know that I think you knew I would lose sleep over you leaving,” Wriothesley says lightly, praying to Celestia his words don’t anger Neuvillette.
Neuvillette draws back, but Wriothesley catches his wrists forcing Neuvillette to hold his cheeks longer. Wriothesley ran hotter than Neuvillette and always had will. The coolness from Neuvillette is comforting as if a piece of him is clicking into place after being broken. The rusty screws around his heart squeak as they begin to slide into place.
“A part of me wishes you stopped me from leaving, but I’m thankful you didn’t stop me… I learned so much about myself that I didn’t know. Most of all, I learned that the heart grows fonder when you’re away. I took you for granted, Wriothesley. Please let me express how sorry I am for—”
“Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for. Stop it, no, close your mouth. Please, listen to me. Neuvillette, yes, you tore me apart. It was shitty,” Wriothesley winces as Neuvillette’s eyes drop,” of you professing your love in a fucking letter. But I needed to know, you needed to tell me. You’re delusional thinking I would move on or even think about starting a life without you. You are my life, sweetheart. I would rather die to the pitiful slimes out there than live a life without you in it.” Wriothesley whispers, catching a lock of silvery hair between his fingers.
His throat is raw as he hears rain pitter-patter against the roof. It has been ages since the bittersweet melody of the Hydro dragon. Closing his eyes, he listens to Neuvillette’s sniffles and the rain outside. His fingers wrap around Neuvillette’s wrists, yanking him down into the sheets.
“My-y sheets smell of you, Wriothesley,” Neuvillette inhales as the tears flow down his pretty cheeks. Wriothesley should feel miserable for causing Neuvillette torment, but deep down he wants Neuvillette to suffer for the distance.
“I’d hope so, sweetheart. It has been only me sleeping on your sheets. I haven’t taken a lover in ages nor would I ever bring someone else in our… den,” He carefully chooses his words. Neuvillette growls at Wriothesley's words, he can’t help hiding his smile from Neuvillette’s knowing gaze.
“How much have you learned since I have been gone?” Neuvillette asks as the rain continues to fall quietly against the window.
Wriothesley mulls over his thoughts as Neuvillette leans against his chest, fingers idly tracing the hair on his chest. The Duke deflates as Neuvillette’s nails scratch his pecs, Wriothesley struggling to follow his train of thought.
“You left… You left journals—countless journals around your office. You’re more than five hundred years old– you look good for more than centuries old. I wish you shared these things with me instead of me finding them, but s’alright. I missed you, Neuvillette. Reading your words was like you were here with me,” Wriothesley finishes as Neuvillette chokes on his breath.
Neuvillette snuggles closer as Wriothesley wraps his arms around the dragon’s slim waist. He never thought he would be here again. The Duke had been convinced that he would never see Neuvillette in this lifetime. He swore on his life he would never take another lover nor would he be without Neuvillette in his next life. His fingers tangled in long silvery locks as they lay in bed, listening to each other’s breathing. Soaking in the moment, the calm before the storm. Someone has to know Neuvillette is back in Fontaine. If Wriothesley could taste Neuvillette’s power in the air, everyone could feel it. It’s as if in Neuvillette's return, his power has grown stronger during his absence.
“Neuvi, I thought you weren’t coming home. It has been a decade, I’m old, I’m graying– I don’t have much time left. You left me at a young age, I have aged, sweetheart,” Wriothesley admits, a ball forming in his throat.
He didn’t want to admit this.
He has aged like the richest, most expensive Fontainian wine. Wriothesley still turns heads in Fontaine, eyes following his movements throughout the city. Secret admirers would fill his mailbox at the Palamis. Women and men would alike throw themselves over him at events. He kindly declines because his heart yearns for a man away. A man who cherished him, who loved him but who walked away for a decade. Now, he is home. He is real, he is here. He can feel Neuvillette’s soft skin under his fingers. Neuvillette’s silvery locks between his fingers, wrapping around his fingers, under his nose smelling of sweet Romanritines. Wriothesley had been certain this smell would never surround him again.
Now though, Neuvillette is in his bed.
“My sweet, sweet, boy. You have aged, but you aged like a fine wine. The silver in your hair is prominent but lovely. Your beard, it’s lovely, my sweet boy. You are handsome, wonderfully handsome and I still love you,” Neuvillette softly sobs as he cups Wriothesley’s cheeks.
“Do you? Do you still love me? Your letters stopped seven years ago— you didn’t tell me where you were. I didn’t stop writing to you. Do you know how many letters I have written to you?” Wriothesley asks softly as his eyes water.
Neuvillette chokes as he opens his mouth but Wriothesley shakes his head. He doesn’t want to ruin their moment, if Neuvillette’s back then they have time to clear the air. They don’t have tons of time, but they have time now. Cupping Neuvillette’s cheeks, Wriothesley leans forward touching their foreheads.
“Don’t answer, we have time. For now, let’s bask in our glory, you’re here— in my bed, your bed. I’ve been waiting for this moment for eons. I know, deep down, in the bottom of my heart that you would come home,” Wriothesley gently kisses Neuvillette’s nose.
His heart aches, Neuvillette hasn’t changed since the day he left. It’s agony to see Neuvillette still as young as ever, where he has aged. Where Wriothesley has wrinkles around his eyes, Neuvillette's skin is smooth. Wriothesley hair has grayed over the years, he‘s not as spritely as he used to be. His job has aged him, he’s not the Wriothesley that Neuvillette left behind. He has withered, he has aged. he is old—- but the fire he carries for Neuvillette burns brighter than ever.
“I’m not as young as I once was but I would gladly have you… I do recall how you tasted that one evening, do you remember, Neuvillette?”
Neuvillette exhales sharply, whimpering as he leans closer. His lips ghost the scar under Wriothesley’s left eye.
“How could I forget, my Treasure? That night— that night has haunted me. I missed the way you held me, the way you made love to me,” Neuvillette breathes against his ear.
“You’re stunningly beautiful, Neuvi. Please, please, don’t let this be a dream,” Wriothesley begs, pulling Neuvillette on top of him.
“I’m here, treasure. I’m here,” Neuvillette sighs, sinking his claws into Wriothesley’s chest. Groaning, Wriothesley’s hips cant his cock begging to sink into Neuvillette’s heat. Neuvilette’s eyes glow brightly in the dark room. Swallowing, Wriothesley’s fingers bite into Neuvillette’s slim hips, holding him in place.
“Tell me you want this, please, fuck, sweetness. Tell me you want me even after all this time apart, tell me, ” Wriothesley groans, his nails biting into the scales kissing Neuvillette’s hips.
Gasping, Neuvillette throws his head back, pale neck column exposed for Wriothesly to sink his teeth into.
“I would love nothing more for you to fill me,” Neuvillette hisses, jerking his hips and rubbing against Wriothesley’s growing cock.
Words weren’t needed between them, their hearts beat as one as their lips met. Wriothesley wouldn’t last long, once Neuvillette’s heat wrapped around him. He hasn’t been with another man or woman since Neuvillette left. No one captured his heart, body, mind, or soul since the Hydro Dragon.
Their kisses turn hungrier as Wriothesley flips them over. His body covers Neuvillette’s—not a single scratch on his perfect, porcelain skin. Sitting on his hunches, Wriothesley gently lays Neuvillette’s legs around his hips.
“I’m not going easy on you, sweetness. I’ll devour you,” Wriothesley says, hotly.
“I’d have it no other way,” Neuvillette moans.
Wriothesley grips Neuvillette’s hips, watching Neuvillette’s empty hole flutter around nothing—slick leaking from his hole, pooling on the sheets. Clenching his teeth, Wriothesley watches as Neuvillette is lead out on his sheets. Tears filled his eyes, his skin flushed, and Wriothesley heard… the rain.
The rain.
It hasn’t rained in Fontaine in ages.
“Sweetness,” Wriothesley breathes.
Neuvillette grasps Wriothesley’s biceps, his claws biting into Wriothesley’s flesh. Wriothesley will wear his marks with pride. His cock pushes against Neuvillette’s dripping hole, groaning, Wriothesley bucks his hips. Neuvillette moans deeply while Wriothesley holds himself together. He will not last, he will not last.
“It will be okay, Wriothesley. I’m not going anywhere, I will be here forever,” Neuvillette sighs, his fingers tangling in Wriothesley's hair.
He blinks away the tears forming in the corner of his eyes.
“Will you… will you be here forever?” Wriothesley asks, emotions filling his throat.
Neuvillette’s skin turns cold, softer than before. Blinking, Neuvillette disappears.
“No, no, no, no— Wait, Neuvillette, please,” He begs, scrambling off the bed.
He trips from the tangled sheets and gasps, waiting for the cold floor to break his nose.
Grasping his chest, Wriothesley sits up in bed. His breathing labored from the wonderfully, wicked nightmare. His boxers soiled from the dream, but his heart ached because Neuvillette wasn’t in the sheets.
No trace of Neuvillette anywhere.
Glancing out the window, he watches the sun peek over the mountains, another day, another fucking day with no sign of Neuvillette returning.
“How long has it been since you have slept in your own bed?” Clorinde interrupts his thoughts.
Wriothesley cocks his head as he drops the papers on his desk. The thought of returning to his cold, scratchy sheets hasn’t crossed his mind since he’s been warming Neuvillette’s sheets. Even though Neuvillette isn’t there— the sheets, the rooms, and the furniture smell like him. Swallowing, Wriothesley doesn’t answer he busies himself with straightening his desk. Clorinde sighs as she drops into the chair behind his desk. Slamming her hand down on top of the many cases he has been shuffling, she forces his attention on her.
“I don’t mind you ignoring me in passing, but when we are alone. I would prefer you to still talk to me, Wriothesley. What has gotten into you?” Clorinde asks gently.
His shoulders shrug as he leans against the desk. She’s right, he can ignore her in passing because neither wants to draw attention to themselves. With the unruly waters from the last two weeks, neither wants to be in the limelight. Thank Celestia, Navia doesn’t mind being the center of attention. She has taken all the hits from the Steambird with her shoulders high. The citizens of Fontaine have demanded Wriothesley’s head. They were not expecting the outcasted Duke to take over. Neuvillette fought him to receive his title, but those only see a frightened criminal.
“Last night, I dreamt of Neuvillette,” Wriothelsey blurts out before he can stop himself.
“I wasn’t expecting this— never mind, what do you mean you dreamt of him?” Clorinde leans back in his chair, crossing her legs.
Sighing, Wriothesley pushes off the desk, if he’s going to have this conversation he’s going to need tea. Gesturing to the tea counter, Clorinde nods her head. He’s thankful Neuvillette didn’t remove the tea bar he had installed for Wriothesley visits. Pulling the warming plate down, he puts the kettle on and searches for the cups he washed last night. His fingers ghost over the cup he bought for Neuvillette. His heart clenches, but he pushes the cup to the back of the cupboard. Neuvillette never cared for tea, but he would humor Wriothesley during their breaks. He remembers the last time they had their weekly meetings. Neuvillette even asked for a cup of Wriothesley’s tea. At the moment, the Duke thought nothing of it. He had been excited to know Neuvillette finally wanted a cup of his tea. It was their last cup of tea they shared before he departed the following morning. Clenching his teeth, Wriothesley balls his fist before reaching for another cup.
Shaking his head, Wriothesley waits for the kettle to whistle as Clorinde hums in the background. Her barriers are lower since it is only the two of them in the office. He hasn’t seen her this relaxed since before Neuvillette’s departure. Wriothelsey picks through the countless tins of tea he has collected over the years. He chooses a peaceful citrus blend to calm their nerves. Dropping the leaves into the cups, he reaches for the kettle. The silence in the room is suffocating, he knows Clorinde won’t let his little dream slip out of her grasp. He would rather crawl into a hole than discuss his sex dream with her, but maybe she’ll have insight that he doesn’t.
Sitting the teacup in front of Clorinde, he drops into the chair across from her.
“I’m assuming you won’t let me weasel out of this? Forget I ever mentioned it?” He jokes as he runs his hand through his hair.
She smirks, “Now why would I do that? You must have had a delicious dream if you don’t want to discuss it.”
Scratching his neck, Wriothesley feels a blush heating his cheeks. Prolonging his dream, he cools his tea, inhaling the warm tangy citrus.
“How often have you had a sex dream?” Wriothesley asks as Clorinde spits out her tea over the cases on the desk.
Chapter 6: No Longer Loving You in the Dark
Summary:
He’ll display any signs of weakness for those he loves.
Pulling back, he sneaks out the front door. Pulling his hood over his head, he turns toward the Opera Eclipse. Towards a meeting he had no business being a part of. A meeting that would be his last meeting. Later today, he will beg Sedene to cancel all his meetings for the week. Wriothelsey winds through the quiet streets, and no one has stirred yet.
Notes:
Wow, it has almost been a full year... Sorry about that! Enjoy the update!
I started reading a new manhwa that got me back into the habit of writing here. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope to have more updates... that aren't years apart!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Wriothesley regrets opening his mouth, running a hand through his hair, and continues to read through the never-ending court documents. How did Neuvillette do this for endless years? Did he ever get tired of reading the same words over and over? Dropping the papers, he rubs a hand over his aching eyes. Clorinde didn’t leave Neuvillette’s office until an hour ago, when she threatened to ship Wriothesley after Neuvillette.
Wriothesley shakes his head.
She wouldn’t ship Wriothesley after Neuvillette.
Would she…?
Pushing back from the desk, Wriothesley stretches. Groaning as his neck pops from hunching over the desk. Steady rain hits the windows as Wriothesley watches from his seat.
“Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon… Don’t cry,” He whispers to himself, his heart aching.
Sigewinne used to inform him when the weather topside would be too unbearable. Wriothesley would take the stairs two at a time, racing to see Neuvillette and what had soured his mood. Normally, it would be over something silly, a misplaced pen, his water not to his liking, or it would be a trial that didn’t sit well with him. Depending on the trial, Wriothesley would have heard about it as he escorted the prisoner below. Most people wouldn’t notice Neuvillette’s mannerisms. They knew he was kind, but they didn’t see the twitch of his mouth when he was upset.
Wriothesley sighs, his shoulders sagging as he relives the last moment of Neuvillette stepping onto the boat.
Why did he have to say he would be fine? Why did he ever let Neuvillette set foot on that boat? Wriothesley should have suggested they go together.
But what would have happened to Fontaine if they both left? Most of the citizens of Fontaine want Wriothesley dead. They don’t believe in a former criminal running the show. Wriothesley didn’t believe in himself running the show. He thought Navia and Clorinde would do a better job than he.
“I’ll ship you off after him– you should have gone with him from the beginning, Wriothesley.” Clorinde’s words ring loudly in his ears.
Does he still have time to follow after Neuvillette?
Jumping to his feet, Wriothesley dashes out the door. Sedene looks up from her book, startled that Wriothesley burst through the door.
“Did Miss Clorinde say where she was going?” Wriothesley breathes, praying Clorinde mentioned where she was going.
“Miss Clorinde stated she was going home— it’s late, Duke Wriothesley. You should retire to bed soon.” Sedene mentions, glancing at the clock.
Wriothelsey glances behind him, wincing at the clock.
“Sedene, dear. Please go home. I’ll lock up for the night.” Wriothelsey shooes her out from behind her desk.
“But—”
“No buts, young lady. Look, I’m leaving with you right now, I have somewhere to be!” Wriothesley rushes them out the door.
Pulling out his umbrella, he hands it to her.
“Get home safely, please. I don’t think Neuvillette would ever forgive me if you didn’t make it home safely,” Wriothesley rests his hand on her shoulder.
Sedene glances up, her eyes serious as she looks over Wriothesley.
“You decided that you’re going to follow after Monsieur Neuvillette,” She states freely.
Wriothelsey glances above her head, and it was only the two of them on the street. It’s well past midnight at this point. In the distance, he sees Sigewinne waving from beneath her pink, dazzling umbrella.
“I– how did you know?” Wriothesley asks, uncertainty stirring in his chest.
Sedene smiles softly, her eyes far away as if she is recalling a memory.
“We knew from the beginning. Maybe even he knew from the beginning, but didn’t want to get his hopes up. You know him, Duke Wriothelsey. You know him better than he knows himself. Go after him, go find him. Bring him home to us,” Sedene whispers as she turns away.
“Sedene!” Sigewinne calls, closer now.
“Sige! I thought I told you I would be fine walking home by myself,” Sedene scolds, gently.
Sigewinne giggles as she approaches them. Skipping the rest of the way, she hands Wriothesley her umbrella as she smushes herself against Sedene’s side.
“I know, but I figured we could have a sleepover tonight!” Sigewinne smiles.
Wriothesley shakes his head, a smile forming on his lips.
“Go on, I’ll be home later. I need to stop and see Clorinde and Navia before the night is over.” Wriothesley waves them off.
He watches until they disappear around the corner before he all but sprints to Clorinde’s apartment.
If Sedene knows, then Sigewinne for sure knows what he’s about to do. He doesn’t care— scratch that, he does care about the state of Fontaine. But if he’s apart from Neuvillette any longer, he’ll drive himself mad. The rain seems to lighten as he turns the corner; he can see Clorinde’s doorstep in the distance. The lights shine brightly on the dark, wet street. He bets they are sitting on the balcony, sharing a bottle of wine as they discuss their days. He has shown up on their doorstep once, unannounced. He takes the steps two at a time, being sure not to slip and wake up the whole neighborhood.
Quickly knocking, he glances over his shoulder to be sure no one saw him or followed him to Clorinde’s home. The rain has stopped as he waits for them to answer.
“Who do you think it is?” He hears from the other side of the door.
“If I had to guess—” Clorinde opens the door.
Wriothesley sheepishly grins as he runs a hand through his dripping wet hair.
“I think I made my decision,” He says, smiling widely.
Clorinde’s shoulders sag as she watches the sun shine brightly through her doorstep.
“I wondered when you would show up.” Clorinde steps back, welcoming him into her apartment.
“Navia, dear. Please get him some towels. I think he has a spare set of clothes here,” Clordine thinks aloud.
“Unless you threw it out when you told me to get lost all the years ago,” Wriothesley jokes.
Shaking her head, she pushes him to the bathroom.
“Clean up, I’ll make some tea. I feel this conversation will take the better part of the night,” Clorinde yawns.
Navia returns with a towel and clothing, smiling softly.
“You made the right decision.”
Wriothesley hasn’t spoken his decision allowed, but he feels lighter already. As if a weight has been removed from his chest. Dropping his soaking wet jacket to the floor, he strips his clothes off for a shower. Clorinde would skin him alive if he sat on her furniture this wet. Turning the shower on, he basks in the warm steam surrounding him.
He makes his shoulder quick; he doesn’t need to catch a cold if he’s about to set off after Neuvillette.
But first, they need to discuss Fontaine.
Who would govern Fontaine while they are both gone?
“It seems you have taken my advice yet again, Wriothesley,” Clorinde yawns, placing his cup of tea on the kitchen table.
Scratching the back of his head, he ducks his head, hopefully hiding his tinted cheeks.
“Sorry, I knew you would be up. I figured Navia would be here as well. I need to speak to both of you… about the most recent developments.” Wriothesley stumbles over his words.
Navia pulls her golden hair into a ponytail while Clorinde rubs the sleep out of her eyes. Silence blankets them as Wriothesley sorts through his jumbled thoughts— running a hand through his hair, he sighs a shuddering breath.
“As we all know, Fontaine isn’t that fond of me. I haven’t been fond of Fontaine until recently,” wringing his hands, he chews on his lip, “But I think I need to follow after Neuvillette. I’m not this person he thinks I am. I’m not good enough to serve Fontaine. They want my head on a pike in the middle of the street. Not all of them, but most of them do not trust a reformed criminal.”
Clorinde nods while Navia listens closely. Wriothesley watches as Clorinde’s fingers tighten in her palm at the mention of Wriothesley as a reformed criminal. He came to terms with his past long ago. Before he even accepted Neuvillette’s offer as Prison Warden, he knew what he had done was wrong. No matter how hard he washed his hands, the blood would never come off. He didn’t need the blood to come off; it was a reminder of his past.
“That would never happen, Your Grace,” Navia breaks the silence.
Smiling, “I know, Navia. I have full faith in the system. More faith than I did was a child, but the system doesn’t have faith in me. I wasn’t fit to be this pristine leader— I’m dirty, I’m chaotic, and my methods are different from what topside is used to. It needs structure, and that structure is you two.”
Navia gasps while Clorinde snorts.
“You cannot be serious. You’re leaving Fontaine in our hands?” Clorinde laughs.
Navia's eyes widen as Wriothesley nods.
“I’m leaving. I’m not fit for this role— more so, I need to be by Neuvillette’s side. I never told him how I felt. I’m sure he knows how I feel, but I haven’t spoken it aloud. He would follow me to the end; I should follow him to the end.” Wriothesley's words spill over the table.
His chest heaving as he watches the golden liquid seep into the wood. The truth finally comes to suffer. It’s exhilarating as the truth is finally free from his chest. He would never have had the push if it wasn’t for Clorinde, Naiva… Neuvillette.
Clenching his hands into fists, he settles his nerves as the golden disappears.
“Alright,” Clorinde says, shrugging her shoulders.
“Alright!?” Navia exclaims, whipping her wide gaze to Clorinde.
“You mean it?” Wriothesley asks, stomping down the hope running through his veins.
“Why wouldn’t we? There will be ground rules, of course, before you take off. There’s much to discuss. I don’t want to go into this blindly. The entirety of Fontaine is riding on our shoulders. I'd rather not have Monsieur Neuvillette or you come back to Fontaine, burnt to the ground.” Clorinde nods, her violet gaze holding Wriothesley’s icy one.
“Of course, whatever you need. I will be departing in a week. There’s much that needs to be settled, and I would not leave you high and dry,” Wriothesley smiles brightly.
“Navia, dear. This isn’t new to you— I’ve seen you rule your people. You do an excellent job. Plus, I think Wriothesley has a few tricks up his sleeve. Something tells me he has multiple angles on this.” Clorinde pats her lover’s hand.
“Absolutely, Navia. I wouldn't suggest this if I didn’t think you two were more than capable of covering for me. I have a list of whom I want to speak with before I depart. It’s not a long list— Sigewinne, Charlotte, The Knave, and Furina. You two, plus Sigewinne, were the top three on my list. In the morning, I will schedule a meeting with Charloette, which shouldn’t be too difficult. The Knave… I think I call upon Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet to schedule a meeting. Miss Furina… I haven’t seen her since Neuvillette encouraged her to take some personal time.” Wriothesley wonders aloud.
“The Knave and Lady Furina?” Navia asks.
Wriothesley nods, mulling over his thoughts.
“It’s late— Wriothesley, sleep in the guest bedroom for tonight. Sneak out before the city folks start moving around. We don’t need a schedule on our hands— Are you speaking to Miss Charloette to keep this contained?” Clorinde questions.
“Bingo. I need to figure out what will keep her happy. I know this will be rather shocking to the City of Fontaine. But I need people to believe I am still here.” Wriothelsey stretches.
“I might have an idea that could help with that,” Navia schemes, reaching for a piece of paper.
“Didn’t I just say that we should all get some rest?” Clorinde mutters.
“It’s now or never, love! At first, I was skeptical, but I trust your judgment. Plus, with all of us working together, we can figure this out.” Navia beams, her smile lighting up the room.
Clorinde sighs, turning her attention to the coffee pot, “I’ll brew more coffee. Might as well hash out our plan now. I’ll call into work tomorrow, Wriothesley. You have a meeting with a Duke in the morning that you cannot postpone. While you’re in the meeting, Navia and I will get in touch with your list to make appointments.”
Wriothesley smiles, but it quickly fades.
“Before you do that, let me speak to Winne first. She deserves to know before everyone else.”
Navia and Clorinde nod in agreement.
“Of course, do not fret,” Navia smiles.
Sighing, Wriothesley leans against the chair. Exhaustion runs through his body after the excitement has worn off. He’s going through with his plan.
“I’ll follow you through Teyvat, Neuvillette. I’ll follow you to the ends of the world. Just wait, I’ll be right there,” Wriothesley whispers to himself.
The finished list sits in the middle of the table. Multiple pages lie around them as they fall asleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning. Wriothesley rubs sleep from his eyes as he pulls his clean coat over his shoulders. He watches as Navia and Clorinde sleep soundly through his quiet rustling. The sun just peeks over the horizon. Bathing Wriothesley in hues of orange and golden yellow. Breathing deeply, he counts to ten.
He hasn’t been this at peace in weeks. The inner turmoil seeps out through his feet into the floor. Leaving his glass empty for the first time since Neuvillette left. They might be oceans apart at this moment.
Teyvat is endless, but he will find Neuvillette. A little birdie told him where to find that troublemaker Childe and the Traveller. Plus, he knows some people in Inazuma. Wriothesley will find Neuvillette.
Through rain, shine, harsh winters, or blistering summers— He will find Neuvillette.
Crossing the small kitchen to the living room, he grabs the blanket off the back of the couch. He quietly moves back to the kitchen, draping the blanket over Clorinde’s and Navia’s shoulders. He lightly fluffs Navia’s hair while leaning in to kiss Clorinde’s head.
“I have never once held any hatred towards you, Clorinde. We didn’t work out, but I’m happy to call you my best friend. Shine brightly, I’m your biggest fan besides Navia. Who is taking my spot, and I couldn’t be happier. Love you, Clorinde, and thank you once again for everything.” He whispers into her hair.
Wriothesley isn’t the one for emotions; displaying emotions is a sign of weakness. Now.
He’ll display any signs of weakness for those he loves.
Pulling back, he sneaks out the front door. Pulling his hood over his head, he turns toward the Opera Eclipse. Towards a meeting he had no business being a part of. A meeting that would be his last meeting. Later today, he will beg Sedene to cancel all his meetings for the week. Wriothelsey winds through the quiet streets, and no one has stirred yet. Some bakers have started their mornings, some waving to him as he passes by. He inhales deeply, the scent of rain and fresh dough. Whistling a soft tune, he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.
Enjoying the first real morning topside since Neuvillette walked away.
“I’m coming, my love. I’m tired of loving you in the dark,” Wriothesley smiles.
The letter that sits on Clorinde’s table.
The final revised piece.
Appointments before Wriothesley Departs:
- Sigewinne (First and foremost)
- Sedene, although she already has an inkling (Damn Melisunes and their uncanny powers)
- Steambird (Charlotte– Juicy story about Neuvillette and Wriothesley's love affair)
- The Knave (Bribe the children of the Harth)
- Lady Furina (Bribe with Navia’s Famous Maracoons)
- Pack
Most of all, Safe Travels, Wriothesley. Please find Neuvillette and what you have been searching for.
Clorinde and I wish you the best, Wriothesley!
Notes:
Wriothesley, you silly, silly yearning.
Go get your man!
Kyky (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 08 Jan 2024 04:29AM UTC
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