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· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Neuvillette curses under his breath after another failed attempt at opening his newly acquired possession.
He stares at the ornate box in defeat as he drops his tools and takes off his glasses, tossing them across his desk. The collector closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. He feels a headache incoming.
Neuvillette lets the sound of the cicadas outside the open window of his small, quaint home in the outskirts of the Court of Fontaine gradually calm his frustration.
Neuvillette doesn’t know why he is so obsessed with this box. When he saw it at the auction three days ago, something pulled him in. Neuvillette might be an avid collector of antiquities, but never before did he stumble upon an object that he just had to buy.
The box is beautiful; Made of a deep mahogany wood, the edges are lined with golden ornaments. Carved into the wood on each side is a gorgeous curling water dragon. It feels somewhat familiar, like an itch at the back of Neuvillette’s mind.
Neuvillette could break the box open to reveal the contents inside, but his heart revolts at the mere idea of destroying such a priceless piece of art, let alone risking damaging whatever is inside.
He had tried picking the lock, to no avail. The mechanism is sturdy, which really surprises Neuvillette given it looks centuries old.
He sighs and picks up the box once more, letting his dainty fingers absentmindedly caress over the dragons carved into the wood.
The collector frowns when his fingers catch on something beneath the box. At first, he thinks it’s just another ornament. But when he puts pressure on the indent, it caves in and a clicking sound is heard.
Did it… did the box unlock?
With his heart beating faster, the collector grabs the lid and attempts to lift it up once more. He gasps when it moves, and Neuvillette quickly lifts the lid to finally gaze at the contents of the box.
He freezes, eyes widening with wonder at what he sees.
Neuvillette takes the object with trembling fingers, lifting it up to inspect it better. He puts his glasses back on and squints his eyes.
It is a brooch, or a badge of some sort. The design is intricate, made of silver that has tarnished over the years, carved into the form of a curling wolf head.
Neuvillette’s fingers tremble even more as they caress over the brooch. A strange mix of anguish and yearning grips his heart. He has never seen this brooch before, he is sure. So why does it feel so familiar, just like the design on the box?
Neuvillette closes his eyes and brings the brooch against his heart. His eyes burn behind his eyelids.
Why does he feel… like he wants to cry…?
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Strange things start happening around Neuvillette’s house from the moment he opens the box.
He cannot explain it. Not with any rational explanation, at the very least.
Neuvillette lives alone. As such, he is used to the silence, only broken by the sounds of nature outside when he leaves his windows open, as well as the ticking sound of the grandfather clock in one corner of his office.
So when he begins to hear sounds as if there is a presence inside his home, he is left confused and on edge.
It begins with the creaking sound of the old floorboards in the hallway while Neuvillette is hard at work in his office deciphering old Remurian texts. Alarmed, he goes to investigate, but finds nothing. The doors are locked and there are no intruders in sight.
Then, he hears the creaking of a chair as if someone just sat opposite him at the dinner table while he eats his soup.
He wonders at first if his imagination is playing tricks on him, but when other strange phenomenon arise, he is not so sure anymore.
Like noticing objects move around the house that he knows he did not put there; a teacup from a set that had been gathering dust on a shelf, now suddenly sitting on a corner of his living room table; a book about old Fontaine finding its way to Neuvillette’s bedroom; the wolf brooch that had been left in the unlocked box now suddenly laying on a corner of his office desk, in plain view…
As the days pass, Neuvillette grows more and more worried and paranoid. Either he is growing mad, or someone has been breaking into his house to mess with him without leaving any trace of forced entry.
Eventually, he begins hearing whispers around the empty house. Whispers that sound incredibly similar to his name.
Those whispers soon become paired with the sensation of hands ghosting over his shoulders and arms, like a lover’s caress.
When it happens, Neuvillette feels so terribly cold, as if he has been dumped into an icy bath.
As the days pass, and the strange phenomenon happen more and more often, the collector becomes increasingly more terrified.
He wants to open up to someone about the strange occurrences in his house, but who can he confide in? He strangely has no memories of his past until a few years ago. He has been told that something traumatic in his past might have wiped his memory clean. While worrying, Neuvillette cannot do anything about it, so he learned to live without these memories.
Neuvillette doesn’t have any family as far as he can tell, nor anybody he is close enough with to consider friends. His colleagues would probably think him crazy. He wouldn’t blame them.
Neuvillette has always enjoyed his solitude; he is much more comfortable being surrounded by artefacts of Fontaine’s past which he is strangely obsessed with rather than people. His solitude usually wraps around him like a safe cocoon, but now it feels suffocating.
The silence that had been so cherished before now brings nothing but dread to him…
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
About a month after opening the box, Neuvillette is pulled awake in the middle of the night by the sound of broken glass.
He quickly sits up in his bed, heart beating madly in his ears.
There’s an intruder in his house.
Neuvillette opens the drawer of his bedside table and grabs the gun he hides there with a shaking hand. He gets out of the bed and doesn’t bother to change out of his nightshirt. He doesn’t have time for this.
The collector takes off the gun’s safety and silently walks to the door of his bedroom, left ajar. He peers into the dark hallway, but sees nothing. The sound of broken glass came from the direction of the kitchen. Probably the sliding door leading to the patio.
Neuvillette swallows nervously. He should call the Marechaussée Phantom, but he left his phone in the living room to charge it. He has to try and reach it.
Gathering his courage, Neuvillette silently slips into the hallway. He is careful not to make any sound as his bare feet pad across the old floorboards towards the living room, hugging the wall to make himself as small as possible.
He almost reaches the living room when he freezes. He hears voices in the kitchen, coming closer.
There are at least two intruders in his house.
Neuvillette knows he doesn’t have much time. He has to act quickly, or he’ll be discovered. He makes a run for his phone sitting on the living room table, with the intention of grabbing it and locking himself up in a room to make an emergency call.
He is spotted before he can reach his phone.
“There he is!!” yells one of the men.
Neuvillette turns around and aims his gun at one of the two men. They are dressed in all black, with a mask hiding the bottom half of their faces, a typical thief garb. Neuvillette guesses the countless priceless artifacts he keeps in his house are the reason for this break-in.
“Not a step further or I’ll shoot!” exclaims Neuvillette, cocking the gun. His hands shake too much, and he curses at himself for it.
Neuvillette doesn’t want to take a life, but he will defend himself if need be.
The man Neuvillette has his gun pointed at seethes to his companion; “I thought this would be an easy job. A harmless collector, you said.”
The other thief scoffs and takes a step forward, forcing Neuvillette to point his gun at him instead. “He is harmless. Look at the poor thing, shaking like a leaf,” he mocks.
“Leave my house now,” orders Neuvillette with as much anger as he can muster.
The thief takes another step forward while his friend’s hand reaches inside the pocket of his hoodie.
A gun. He must have a gun.
“I don’t think so, dove,” says the man that Neuvillette still targets.
Neuvillette sees the other man whip out a gun from his hoodie. He quickly aims at him and fires the gun, but it misses the thief’s head by an inch. Neuvillette doesn’t have time to fire another shot. The intruder closest to him lunges at him, toppling him to the ground. The gun is ripped out of Neuvillette’s hand, thrown far away, just as a hand closes around his throat, cutting off his air supply.
Neuvillette gasps and buries his nails in his attacker’s wrist, trying to pry it off. The man laughs cruelly and takes out a gun from his pocket. He pushes the barrel against Neuvillette’s forehead.
Neuvillette’s heart stops and his eyes widen in terror as he awaits the sound of the gunshot and the pain that will follow.
It never comes.
Neuvillette watches incredulously as the man holding him down is ripped away from him and thrown against the nearest wall by an invisible force. Neuvillette coughs, fighting for air. He sits up, and through tear-filled eyes, he witnesses the impossible scene happening in his living room.
While the man struggles to push himself back to his feet, the other intruder recoils as if something punched him in the face. His nose breaks under the impact, blood pouring down his face.
The collector can do nothing but watch with horror as the man is violently rammed against the wall, with enough force to crack his skull open.
The thief crumbles to the ground just as his partner gets back on his feet. He sees the body of his companion, blood pooling from his head wound, and he seems to think that Neuvillette is more trouble than he is worth as he tries to make a run for it.
He doesn't make it. Whatever invisible force is at play grabs him and topples him to the ground. Neuvillette watches, paralyzed, as a heavy book stopper from the nearest bookshelf floats in the air, before dropping down on the thief’s head, again and again. Neuvillette closes his eyes, not wanting to watch as the man is being bludgeoned to death.
Hearing the moans of pain and the wet, squelching sounds is already enough to turn his stomach.
A deadly silence soon falls over Neuvillette’s house. He carefully opens his eyes. He is shaking badly by now, terrified by everything that just happened.
The two thieves are obviously dead. Their blood seeps through the floorboards, and Neuvillette feels nauseous at the sight of it.
Terror overwhelms him. What killed them? Neuvillette wasn’t seeing things. Whatever murdered these men isn’t visible to the naked eye.
Neuvillette remembers every strange occurrence that happened in the last month. How he felt like he was being watched, as if there is a presence in his house.
And now that invisible presence has just killed the two intruders.
What if Neuvillette is next…?
This fear is what pushes the collector to stand up on shaky legs. As soon as he does, he feels that cold sensation wash over him again, as if ghostly hands are grabbing his arms.
And then he hears it. One word, whispered right against his ear.
“Neuvillette…”
Neuvillette gasps in fear and recoils. He stumbles back, and his eyes widen when something flickers in the semi-darkness in front of him.
A distortion in the air.
A humanoid figure materializes, ghostly and see-through, too blurry to discern any features. Neuvillette soon feels that cold touch against his neck this time. He quickly steps away until he has his back pressed against the wall. His heart pounds quickly in his chest as the ghostly figure becomes more defined before him.
It is a man.
Neuvillette, despite his terror, can't tear his eyes away from the ghostly apparition. They roam over a rugged but handsome face, a full head of messy hair, the shadow of a beard; he takes in the tall and muscular stature, and the noble, old-fashioned clothes the man is wearing. Neuvillette’s gaze stops on a familiar brooch of a wolf head pinned to the man’s breast and his breath itches in his throat.
“Who - who are you?” whispers Neuvillette in a mix of fear and fascination.
The man looks oddly familiar. As Neuvillette stares into the ghost’s empty eyes, intense emotions overwhelm him, leaving him winded.
The apparition steps towards him, and Neuvillette is rooted in place, unable to move. He knows he should escape—this ghost just killed two men, for gods’ sake—but his body refuses to cooperate.
He gasps and trembles when ghostly hands cradle his cheeks, followed by the press of cold lips against his own.
Neuvillette’s eyes widen in shock, and blinding pain suddenly tears his head apart. It hurts so much. All his senses become muted. A dark void takes over his mind before it is suddenly replaced by a slew of images passing before his tightly shut eyes…
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
“Congratulations, Your Grace. You found something you wish to do at last,” says Neuvillette with a polite smile.
Wriothesley’s answering smile is a mirror of his own, but the intensity behind his eyes sends shivers down the Iudex’s spine.
“I sure did.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
“Neuvillette!! Are you okay?!” exclaims Wriothesley as he rushes over, pushing through the panicked crowd running to escape the Opera Epiclese. Wriothesley looks incredibly concerned, more than Neuvillette has ever seen him.
The Iudex touches his side, and his fingers come up bloody. His eyes meet Wriothesley’s, and he sees the icy blue pupils darken with anger and panic.
Next thing he knows, Neuvillette is pulled to his feet and a strong arm winds protectively around him, keeping him pressed against Wriothesley.
“Close all the exits! Don’t let the shooter escape! Protect the Chief Justice!!” Wriothesley yells orders to the stunned gardes as he prepares to personally evacuate the Iudex.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
“No need to fret over me, Your Grace. I will be fine,” says Neuvillette, but despite his protest he lets Wriothesley undress him down to his white poet’s shirt, soaked through with blood.
Wriothesley lifts the shirt with trembling hands, and he lets out a shaky sigh of relief when he sees no wound where the bullet had hit the Iudex. The dragon’s regenerating abilities have already taken care of the superfluous wound. If the bullet had done more than graze his side, it would have been a different story.
“You’re asking the impossible of me, Neuvillette,” whispers the Duke with sadness.
Neuvillette doesn’t like to see Wriothesley so frazzled, especially when it is unnecessary. He cannot die from such wounds, he —
Neuvillette’s thoughts come to a screeching halt as a hand comes up to cradle his jaw. Wriothesley is so close that Neuvillette can feel his breath upon his lips.
“I know you’re stronger than most, but I could never stop worrying over someone I care deeply about,” confesses the warden.
Neuvillette’s heart skips a beat. He grabs Wriothesley’s wrist, but doesn’t try to dislodge his hand.
“Wriothesley…”
Their foreheads meet, and anguish swirls in the icy irises staring at him. “Seeing you wounded, bleeding… I almost lost my mind. All I could think about was losing you, the one I cherish the most in this life.”
Neuvillette exhales shakily upon hearing these words whispered against his lips, but they pale in comparison to what comes next.
“I love you, Neuvillette…”
He doesn’t know how to respond to such a heartfelt confession, doesn’t know how to interpret the storm of emotions raging in his own heart.
Wriothesley takes his silence for rejection. He smiles sadly. “I don’t expect you to say it back. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I couldn’t keep this a secret anymore,” he says forlornly.
Wriothesley is about to pull away when Neuvillette surges forward, letting their lips meet in a desperate kiss that he hopes conveys the feelings he cannot put to words.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Neuvillette whimpers, head thrown back against his pillow. His mind is overwhelmed with sensations, with pleasure, and he clings to Wriothesley’s back as the man moves in him, above him. Tears of overstimulation roll down his cheeks, only to be lovingly kissed away.
“I love you, mon coeur…” whispers Wriothesley as he laces their fingers together, and drives his cock deeper into the dragon.
Neuvillette keens, the broken sound soon consumed by his mate’s lips.
He has never felt such pleasure, never felt so loved and cherished before. He holds onto Wriothesley tightly as the man makes sweet love to him, carves a home inside him, brands him as his beloved possession.
Neuvillette wishes this moment would never end. He wishes the world outside of their frantic lovemaking would vanish, and that he can keep Wriothesley in his bed forever…
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
This is a nightmare. It has to be. Neuvillette can barely see anything through the tears filling his vision and the downpour beating down on his prostate form.
He feels the warmth of the blood on his hands, seeping through his grasping fingers as he desperately tries to stop the blood from escaping the gaping wound in Wriothesley’s chest.
“Beloved, please, stay with me!” wails Neuvillette, his voice breaking at the edges from the pain ravaging his heart.
The Duke of Meropide can barely keep his eyes open anymore. His breathing is ragged, growing increasingly weaker as life slowly drains out of him.
“Neu - Neuv…” he rasps, before coughing up blood.
“Don’t speak, please… Keep your strength. You have to hold on until a healer arrives,” says Neuvillette as he cradles Wriothesley’s face with a bloodied, shaking hand.
Deep inside, Neuvillette knows help will not arrive in time. Everyone is too busy dealing with the aftermath of the Celestial nail falling. No one else is around to witness Wriothesley’s dying moments.
Neuvillette’s tears fall, ending their course on Wriothesley’s face. “Don’t leave me… Please…” Neuvillette sobs uncontrollably, holding Wriothesley tighter in his arms.
He feels so powerless. Even with the vast powers of a Sovereign at his fingers, he still cannot save the one he loves the most in this world.
Neuvillette freezes when cold fingers graze his cheek, wiping away a crystalline tear. He opens his eyes to see Wriothesley’s icy blue eyes, glazed over, looking back at him.
“I… love you. Never… never forget that,” whispers Wriothesley so faintly that Neuvillette almost missed the words.
Before Neuvillette can answer him, Wriothesley’s hand falls limply to the ground, and his eyes slip close.
He grows lax in Neuvillette’s arms.
“Wriothesley…? Wriothesley!!” cries Neuvillette as he shakes his mate frantically. His heart breaks into pieces when he realizes that his husband isn’t breathing anymore.
The scream of agony that Neuvillette lets out brings the rain down even harder, as if the hydro dragon wanted to drown the nation in his tears.
The clashing thunder does nothing to hide Neuvillette’s anguished wails as he cradles his husband’s lifeless body.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Neuvillette ignores the frantic pounding against the front door of his house. He ignores the shouts, the pleading, and the tears he can hear in Furina’s voice.
It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does.
Neuvillette curls up into himself on his unmade bed, a bed that no longer holds his beloved’s scent. The sheets are cold, devoid of any warmth.
Wriothesley is dead. He’s not coming back. He’s been put into the ground earlier that morning for his eternal rest, under a torrential downpour.
Fontaine has been drowning for the past week in response to the hydro dragon’s sorrow, ever since Wriothesley’s passing.
Neuvillette wants to cry, but the tears have finally run dry. He feels hollow inside.
Nothing matters anymore.
Neuvillette clutches Wriothesley’s brooch tighter against his chest and he closes his tired eyes.
He wants to bury himself in the ground with Wriothesley and be laid to rest, never to wake up again. The precious memories he shared with Wriothesley are tearing him apart inside. He wishes to forget them so the pain will fade.
Wouldn’t it be better if they were lost to time…?
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
When Neuvillette opens his eyes after the slew of long-lost memories that assaulted his mind, he feels like a fog has been lifted from his mind. Grief, agony and longing sits heavy in his heart after relieving those few precious years he was truly happy.
His wish had been answered. To forget his grief, Neuvillette let time erode his memory until there was only a hollow shell of himself left, even forgetting who he truly is and everyone he once held dear to him. It was a gentler fate than living with the grief of losing his fated mate.
Tears run down his cheeks as he extends a hand to touch the ghostly cheek of the apparition.
“Wriothesley, my love… It’s you… I missed you so much…” sobs Neuvillette in a mix of relief and grief.
Suddenly remembering the few years of bliss at Wriothesley’s side is overwhelming. He remembers every kiss, every “I love you”, every dinner shared, every night of passion in each other’s arms…
He remembers Celestia’s sudden attack on Fontaine, and how Wriothesley gave up his own life to save Neuvillette.
He remembers his husband dying in his arms, and how grief nearly destroyed both him and Fontaine as a whole.
And now Wriothesley is here. He is real, tangible despite his ghostly figure. His touch is cold when it should be warm, but Neuvillette would recognize it anywhere.
“Neuvillette…” whispers Wriothesley, the murmur sounding pained and saddened.
“It was the brooch, then? Somehow your spirit lingered on Teyvat inside it…” says Neuvillette with awe and sadness.
All the weird phenomenon happening around his house since he found the brooch… It was all Wriothesley. His mate had been trying to make his presence known to him, surely…
“I love you, Neuvi… Forever and always…” Wriothesley’s voice is so very faint, and his ghostly figure flickers. It makes Neuvillette panic, fearing he will disappear again.
Wriothesley’s touch leaves him, and Neuvillette frantically grips his wrist, refusing to let him out of his sight.
Instantly, Wriothesley’s image regains clarity, just as a dizzy spell hits Neuvillette.
“You should stay away from me, sweetheart. The more I touch you, the more lifeforce I’m stealing from you. I don’t want to kill you.”
Oh… So that’s how Wriothesley can keep up a tangible form; by feeding on Neuvillette’s lifeforce.
If Neuvillette keeps their contact uninterrupted, Wriothesley will feed off him until there is nothing more to take.
He should let Wriothesley go.
But he doesn’t want to. Ever again.
Neuvillette grabs Wriothesley’s face and pulls him closer. The effect is immediate; another wave of dizziness hits him, but he refuses to let go.
“And I don’t want to keep living in this world without you. No more,” says Neuvillette in a voice torn apart by pain.
Their foreheads come together, and now that he can discern Wriothesley more clearly, he sees the sadness etched on his handsome features.
Wriothesley tenderly brushes his tears away. “Neuvi…”
Neuvillette smiles through his tears. “This is my decision. Let us leave this world together this time.”
He seals his promise with a kiss full of longing and desperation.
Wriothesley kisses him back just as fiercely, and when he wraps his arms around Neuvillette, the latter feels like he has been dumped in an icy cold bath.
He doesn’t care.
Neuvillette lets himself be consumed by his beloved’s touch, a touch he thought he would never feel again.
He kisses Wriothesley again and again, and his mind soon gets clouded by a feverish passion, born of his desperation and need. He has missed Wriothesley so much…
His mind is breaking apart in pieces, and the past superposes with the present. All of a sudden, Neuvillette isn’t laying on the ground of the living room in his empty cold house, having his life being drained from him with every kiss, every caress from his dead lover, but back centuries ago in his marital bed with his husband.
“Neuvillette… You are gorgeous, mon coeur, and all mine,” whispers Wriothesley as he slides home inside Neuvillette, as deep as he can go, finally joining them as one.
Neuvillette gasps and shivers. He feels the coldness all over him, in him. He closes his eyes and lets himself be swept away by happier memories of a bygone past.
The room is filled with their gasps and moans of pleasure, and the wet slaps of Wriothesley’s hips as he takes Neuvillette apart, drowns him in pleasure. His kisses are heady, and the praise he showers the dragon with makes him keen and tremble; makes Neuvillette meet each of his husband’s deep thrusts to get more of him.
Ghostly, cold lips claim his own again, and Neuvillette wants to cling to Wriothesley and never let go. He tries to lift his arms, but he feels too weak.
Cold and numbness seep through his bones and muscles, and Neuvillette knows the end is coming.
He should be afraid of dying.
He isn’t. Why should he, when it means reuniting with the man he loves in the afterlife?
Nothing in this life is worth living anymore without his beloved Wriothesley by his side.
When Neuvillette reaches the peak of his pleasure, it isn’t like a raging tide, but like the gentle waves that lap at the shore. He comes apart under Wriothesley, tears of happiness clinging to his lashes as Wriothesley guides him through the pleasure burning in his veins.
Wriothesley holds him close afterwards, and Neuvillette enjoys these quiet moments the most.
Wriothesley’s embrace feels like home.
Neuvillette clings to him, afraid that if he lets go, his mate will disappear.
“I love you, Neuvi… Forever and always…”
Neuvillette smiles through his tears. His vision becomes more blurry with every second that passes. He feels Wriothesley’s cold embrace all around him, and the press of frigid lips to his forehead.
“I love you too… beloved. Now and forever…” whispers Neuvillette.
His eyes slowly slip close, never to open again. The hydro Sovereign draws his last breath with a smile on his lips, and the most peaceful expression on his face.