Work Text:
Wriothesley enters the foyer of the Palais Mermonia, gruffly shaking the rain from his hair. Various Gestionnaires shoot him affronted looks and give him a wide berth, clearly thinking that he is some uncivilized brute that has come to cause trouble. To be fair, he would think the same thing if he were in their position. His status isn’t common knowledge to most Overworlders, after all, and his dark attire is a far cry from the stuffy cravats and buttoned overcoats of the Palais workers.
He pays them no mind, striding towards the front desk, coat flapping behind him (very coolly, if he does say so himself). The effect is partially ruined by the wet squelches that his boots make upon the tiled floor with each step.
Sedene greets him as he approaches the reception area. “Good evening, Duke Wriothesley. What brings you to the Palais today?”
Wriothesley rests his forearms on the desk, offering her a grin. “Sedene! Can’t a Fortress Administrator just stop by on his day off?”
The Melusine gives him an unamused stare. Tough crowd. Sigewinne would have at least humored him, but it seems the personnel in the Palais are more uptight. Maybe Neuvillette hires his staff based on their stoic personalities.
“Okay, you got me. I’m here to discuss some case files with Neuvillette. I believe he should’ve mentioned it to you as well?”
Usually for these sorts of meetings, Neuvillette would visit Meropide, but his schedule has been abnormally full. Wriothesley easily agreed upon meeting at the Palais instead. It would give him the opportunity to stop by his favorite tea house afterwards, anyways.
Sedene flips through a planner of what appears to be Neuvillette’s schedule. The Chief Justice wasn’t lying when he mentioned his unavailability. Even from a distance, the pages are crammed with impressively tiny writing. It’s a wonder that Sedene can even discern what it all says.
After a pause, Sedene blinks up at Wriothesley with a confused tilt to her head. “I don’t see it in his schedule… but perhaps he forgot to mention it to me. He has been exceedingly busy, after all.” She takes a quick glance at the closed doors of Neuvillette’s office. From her expression, it is clear that she’s worried about him. “Monsieur Neuvillette has barely left his office this entire week.”
Wriothesley is reminded of all the times Sigewinne asks him about Neuvillette’s workload. He is always quick to assure her that the man can take care of himself, but now that even Sedene is growing concerned, he can’t help but to feel worried as well.
He pushes himself up from the desk in one swift movement. “I can let you know how he is after I meet with him. That is, if you’ll still let me see him.”
Sedene nods earnestly. “You are Monsieur Neuvillette’s trusted associate, so I trust you too.”
It’s a little embarrassing how happy that simple admission makes him feel, the beginnings of a smile sneaking its way onto his face. Trusted associate . That’s high praise coming from Neuvillette.
“Thanks, Sedene,” he sends her a two-fingered salute as he makes his way to Neuvillette’s office. “Leave it to this trusted associate to get the job done!” He is almost certain that she rolls her eyes in response, but he doesn't look back to check.
He stops before the imposing wooden doors, giving it three firm knocks. “Neuvillette? It’s Wriothesley.”
There is a pregnant pause. Wriothesley’s brow furrows; he usually gets a reply almost instantaneously. He is about to knock again when he hears what sounds like a muffled cough.
“Please come in, Duke Wriothesley.” Neuvillette finally calls from within. His voice sounds off, but Wriothesley can’t pinpoint exactly how.
Wriothesley quickly pulls open one of the doors and slips into the office, being careful to shut it gently behind him. Neuvillette is sitting at his desk, poring over a veritable tower of paperwork. He looks up as Wriothesley enters, offering him a slight nod.
“Duke Wriothesley, I am glad you could make it,” he says slowly, clearing his throat. “I apologize for making you go out of your way to accommodate me.”
Wriothesley waves a flippant hand as he walks up to Neuvillette’s desk. “Perish the thought. I already told you that this is the perfect opportunity to stock up on tea.”
Neuvillette answers with a mild huff of laughter that comes off as more of a wheeze. This is followed by a light cough that is quickly covered by his gloved hand. Alarmed, Wriothesley snaps his gaze towards Neuvillette's face. Now that he is close enough to clearly see the man's features, Neuvillette seems… unwell, to put it politely.
The Chief Justice has always been pale, his "porcelain skin" a popular topic of envy among the ladies of the court, but today his pallor is sheet-white. Fine beads of sweat line the edges of his forehead. His usually sharp gaze is unfocused, pupils dilated and shaky. His eyes are accompanied with deep purple eye bags that even his makeup powder can't completely hide.
Neuvillette abruptly lurches up from his chair and makes his way to the tea kettle that he keeps at the corner of his office, interrupting Wriothesley’s musing. “I neglected to brew some tea in preparation for your arrival. Please forgive my discourtesy.” Neuvillette’s hands are visibly shaking as he pours a glass of no doubt astoundingly-luxurious water into the kettle, setting it to boil.
“I’m sure I can find it in my shriveled heart to forgive you.” Wriothesley faintly replies, gaze still fixed on Neuvillette’s trembling form. An uneasy feeling sits in the pit of his stomach. He aches to rush over and help, but he is frozen by decorum. Normally, he pays no mind to this propriety nonsense, but something about Neuvillette in particular has him hesitating.
As Sedene confirmed earlier, Wriothesley knows that he is one of the few people that the Iudex trusts. However, he also knows that this trust is primarily within their professional roles. He would be overstepping the bounds of approved etiquette and potentially shatter the delicate trust that Neuvillette has placed with him. The very thought makes his breath catch in his throat.
Wriothesley watches as Neuvillette sways precariously on his feet. Oh, fuck it. Throwing all of his previous thoughts to the wind, Wriothesley closes the distance between them. Confusion fills Neuvillette’s clouded gaze. “Your Grace? Is everything alright?”
“Am I alright? You’re the one I’m worried about here. With all due respect, you look like you’re about to collapse at any second.” Wriothesley quickly wraps a supporting arm around Neuvillette’s waist. As if on cue, Neuvillette’s legs seemingly give out from underneath him. Wriothesley tightens his grip, catching him before he actually falls.
“M-my apologies. It seems I was momentarily overcome with a dizzy spell,” Neuvillette says weakly, struggling to stand up straight. He makes an aborted movement as if to separate himself from Wriothesley, to no avail. “I am quite alright now, thank you for your assistance.”
Wriothesley blinks at him incredulously. Now fully upright, Neuvillette’s legs are still trembling like a newborn foal, even with Wriothesley’s firm arm around his waist. His face somehow looks even paler than before, bright spots of color sitting high on his cheeks.
“We seem to have different definitions of the word ‘alright’. Here, lean on me.”
"I assure you, there is no need—"
Neuvillette barely has the chance to cover his mouth with a fist before his frame is wracked by a series of wet coughs. Wriothesley hurriedly moves to further support Neuvillette’s shaking form, rubbing the man’s back as he coughs.
“Neuvillette, please,” Wriothesley urges, voice thick with worry. He swallows around what feels like a growing lump in his throat. “For my sake and yours. I just want to get you to sit down. Is that okay?”
Drained from his fit of coughing, Neuvillette responds with a weak nod; all the fight seems to have left his body. Wriothesley all but carries him over to the nearest couch, not letting go until Neuvillette is safely resting upon the plush cushions. He refuses to think about how alarmingly light Neuvillette had felt in his arms. It should be illegal for the indispensable Chief Justice of Fontaine to feel so fragile, as if a single gust of wind could blow him away.
The tea kettle begins to whistle. Neuvillette makes an attempt to sit up straighter. “Ah, let me get that—”
“Nuh uh. Let me handle it. I’m quite the master at making tea, you know.” Wriothesley walks over to the kettle before Neuvillette can protest further. Two unnecessarily ornate cups are already laid out with tea bags within them. It’s quick work to pour the hot water into each mug, adding two cubes of sugar to one. After a quick stir, he carefully brings both cups (on their respective saucers, of course) to where Neuvillette is waiting.
“Here you are, Monsieur. Freshly-brewed tea made by Meropide’s one and only Duke. Please enjoy.” Wriothesley hands Neuvillette the cup without the sugar before sitting down beside him on the couch.
“You have my thanks,” Neuvillette blinks gratefully at him. “I sincerely apologize for leaving you to make the tea. I have failed you as a host.” Neuvillette looks down into his cup with a quiet sigh. “And after all of the times you so graciously hosted me at Meropide… I must look terribly rude right now.”
Wriothesley stops in the middle of a sip of his own tea to send Neuvillette a disbelieving stare. The Iudex seems genuinely sorrowful, pale lips downturned as he idly stirs his tea. Concerning mindset aside, he looks unfairly adorable, like a downtrodden puppy. A sick, downtrodden puppy , Wriothesley amends when Neuvillette pauses his stirring to muffle another cough with his hand.
Wriothesley takes a moment to compose himself. “Neuvillette, look at me.”
Neuvillette looks back up at Wriothesley, quizzical.
“Never once have I thought you were rude in any way — you’re literally the most polite person I know. And even if, according to whatever fancy ‘etiquette’ you follow, not making me tea is considered rude, you get a pass. You’re clearly ill; it would be rude of me not to help you,” Wriothesley says, smiling lightly. “Besides, I like making tea for you. You always turn it down when you visit me, so this is a rare opportunity for me.”
Perhaps it’s his exhaustion lowering his inhibitions, but Neuvillette is visibly stunned. His eyes are blown wide, and his cheeks are tinted pink in a way that cannot be completely attributed to fever. He clears his throat. “I am undeserving of such high praise, but… thank you. Your tea-making is quite delightful.”
Wriothesley huffs a laugh, ignoring the way he can feel his face heating up. It’s too unfair. Neuvillette claims that he isn’t good with people, but he found the way to Wriothesley’s heart so easily, complimenting his tea with such a genuine expression.
“You can thank me by accepting my offer for tea next time you drop by Meropide,” Wriothesley says, hoping Neuvillette doesn’t notice his sudden bashful tone.
“I will be sure to keep that in mind for next time, then.” A rare smile graces Neuvillette’s lips as he takes a sip of tea. There is still a light tremor in his hand, but it is nowhere near as bad as it was earlier. He sets his cup back on its saucer, stoic once more. “Speaking of next time, we should discuss the files you came here for.”
Wriothesley wags a disapproving finger at him, shaking his head. “Nope! No more work, Monsieur Chief Justice,” he drawls, setting his cup down as well. “Sedene is worried about you. She told me you were overworking yourself this week, so I’m stopping you on her behalf. If she knew, I’m sure Sigewinne would give you an earful as well.”
The Iudex winces. If Wriothesley’s weakness is tea, Neuvillette’s weakness is undoubtedly the Melusines. Wriothesley is well aware of this fact, which is why he name-dropped two of them in the conversation. Neuvillette glances towards the closed doors, as if nervous that mentioning their names would summon them to his office.
“... Did Sedene really say such a thing?” Neuvillette asks, hushed.
Wriothesley offers him a solemn nod, resisting the urge to laugh. “Yep.” He makes sure to pop the ‘p’ for extra effect.
“I will have to deliver a personal apology for causing her undue stress, then. One for Sigewinne, as well,” Neuvillette mumbles to himself.
Wriothesley hums. “I’m sure that taking a break from work would be the best apology you can give them. That, and maybe some pastries.” He strokes his chin in contemplation. “Once you feel better, you and Sedene can bring some macarons down to Meropide to visit Sigewinne. We can have a little tea party.”
“That would be nice,” Neuvillette muses. Now that the mini crisis has been averted, he finally relaxes into his seat. His eyes visibly droop, nose wrinkling. Once again, Wriothesley is reminded of a puppy. For someone with such an imposing reputation, Neuvillette really is way too cute at times. A soft smile makes its way onto Wriothesley’s face.
The two sit in a comfortable silence. Wriothesley sips at his tea, watching Neuvillette’s blinks grow heavier and heavier until the man eventually falls asleep.
Wriothesley takes a second to take in the rare sight of the esteemed Chief Justice in such a vulnerable position. If only he had his Kamera on him. Neuvillette’s silky locks splay out where his head is pillowed on the couch cushions, a few strands freed from behind his ear to frame his pale face. His expression is relaxed and almost blissful, lightening the dark shadows beneath his eyes.
As much as Wriothesley wants to stare for longer, he should update Sedene before she gets too worried. And he can get a refill of tea while he’s at it. He reluctantly stands, gazing forlornly at Neuvillette’s peaceful form. After a beat, Wriothesley shrugs off his coat and gently lays it over the sleeping man.
“Sleep well, Neuvillette,” he whispers. “Get well soon.”