Chapter Text
Fatherhood suited him, that’s what Clorinde had said and, quite frankly, Wriothesley was inclined to agree. He’d gladly admit on more than one occasion he’d day dream about what it would be like to have kids of his own- what they’d be like, dealing with scrapes and bruises and any fights they’d pick and inevitably win (because they were his kids in his day dream, of course they’d win). Maybe he’d adopt some of the kids under Percy and Fennel’s care, give them a good home.
Alas, both of these things were stalled by two roadblocks- time and finding a woman who’d ‘tolerate’ him (jokes made in good nature, and they weren’t wrong). Eventually, he’d just shelved the idea save on nights when he was bored and too alone with his thoughts.
Somehow, in hindsight, that made the fact he was the mate of Fontaine’s Hydro dragon and the parent of said dragon’s clutch all the more absurd.
Not that he was unhappy with this arrangement, quite the opposite. Perhaps a bit...shocked initially (not that you could really blame him in that moment) but he’d stepped up, he was proud of his mate and he’d be proud of and kids they’d have...or pups, as Neuvillette referred to them.
Three girls- Carole, Lucille, and Sandrine, which had been a massive shock to his system. He knew all the parenting books in the world wouldn’t prepare him for three feisty girls, much less three feisty dragons.
Whereas most human infants were still immobile and otherwise helpless at a month, they were eager to get moving as soon as their eyes opened. It was a struggle with their long serpentine bodies and how frequently they’d trip over their paws, but they build their strength in the bathtub of all places. They were naturally aquatic creatures, so it didn’t take long for them to adjust to splashing around in the water with an astonishing amount of ease. Honestly, it was a delight to get soaked in the bathroom doing this, even if it meant cleaning up the inevitable lake that formed on the floor afterwards.
After that, all bets were off and they were given free reign of the house...sort of. They were fine in their nursery or the pen they’d set up in the living room (as natural swimmers climbing was, understandably, not their strong suit). Outside of that it was the risk of tumbling down the stairs, getting stuck between sofa cushions, trapped in cabinets, and, the worst, ending up underfoot while either Wriothesley or Neuvillette were wandering around. Wriothesley had already accidentally stepped on Sandrine’s delicate finned tail when she’d been eagerly weaving between his legs.
Neuvillette had forgiven him because, obviously, it had been an accident and nothing a bandage wouldn’t fix, but Wriothesley had been fully prepared to banish himself to the Fortress of Meropide indefinitely for it (at least until Sigewinne cracked the spine of a book against his skull). He’d made up for it by being extra doting the next few days.
Sure, every parent in Teyvat could say every day was a learning experience but dealing with baby dragons felt like a very...unique kind of experience, as he noted when he plucked a completely powder covered Carole from the pile of flour she’d knocked over after playing in the cabinet.
So long as they were happy and healthy he didn’t mind the chaos overmuch. It warmed his heart to hear that familiar happy chirping when he came home before scooping all three of them up in his arms (something he was determined to do every time now, after Navia had complained she only had two hands and couldn’t hold them all at once).
It was raining this particular day, and not a light drizzle.
Normally, he’d rush out to meet his mate because weather of this sort never bode well, but Neuvillette had specifically sent word to Wriothesley asking him to come to the surface. The trial he was overseeing was taking longer than anticipated and he wouldn’t be home on time.
He sighed, watching the downpour past the high windows in the living room, a faint rumbling of thunder disturbing an otherwise calm afternoon.
“I hope he’s okay…” he said quietly, not really expecting a response but got one anyway in the form of a worried trilling sound.
He felt a tug on his pant leg and looked down to find Carole pawing at him in concern. It was surprising how big they’d grown within the span of two and a half months. They were slightly larger than a housecat, and she could reach above his knee when she managed to rise up on her hind legs.
Much like their father, the girls were strongly aware of the emotions carried through the waters of Fontaine, and rain in that regard was no different. The only problem was that being out in it made them borderline inconsolable. They could feel Neuvillette’s sadness and would cry out for him, and they’d remain in that distraught state until the parent in question, and only the parent in question, would comfort them once his own emotions had been tended too by Wriothesley.
It made him feel slightly worthless in that regard, that he was unable to tend to his own children’s distress immediately...not for lack of trying. It was just one of those elemental things he had to accept.
He knelt down, stroking his hand down her back, being careful of her silver fins and rhinophores.
“You know daddy’s sad, don’t you?”
Another rumble of thunder and her fins twitched, ice blue eyes staring up at the dark sky before she pushed off his leg so she could rest both her front paws on the glass, tail swishing back and forth.
She let out a soft whine.
“Yeah, me too,” he wanted so badly to out to find Neuvillette like he used too. To chase him down with an umbrella, lecture him about catching a cold (“Dragons don’t get sick,” he’d assured him) before going home together. Wriothesley couldn’t help but feel that being home right now meant he’d skipped all those valuable steps and was neglecting his duties as a lover and a mate.
“You know what I bet he’s doing?” he lightly ran his knuckles down his daughter’s side, nudging her and making her squeak in surprise, “I bet he’s moping around out in front of the Palais Mermonia getting soaked, and then?”
He gently pushed her over, tickling her soft exposed belly with his fingertips. She squealed in delight, wriggling but making no effort to escape the attack.
“He’ll come home looking worse than a mass of beached kelp,” he laughed as he picked her up under her arms so she was more or less sitting like a normal child. In response to his teasing, she stuck out her tongue and slapped her tail against the floor.
It was remarkable how quickly the pups picked up on certain behaviors, far quicker than any human child could. Although Archons help him, Carole was picking up most of her mannerisms from Sigewinne. Granted, the nurse would probably be displeased to learn his daughter was far cuter when she did the same things.
He smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before lowering her back down, hopeful their little tickle fight helped ease up some of her stress. It seemed to have the intended effect, she bounced right back up onto her feet.
“Let’s see if we can cheer your sisters up,” he said with a smile.
The three of them were never especially far from each other, so he wasn’t surprised to find Sandrine on the sofa looking similarly depressed, but Lucille was, strangely, absent. Wriothesley gave his present daughter a gentle pat and looked around, puzzled.
“Where’d your sister go?”
Sandrine stretched, her obsidian scales rippling and pale blue and white fins flexing, but beyond that, her response was to let out a huff and nip his fingers.
“That wasn’t an answer, young lady,” he scolded, albeit half-heartedly. She licked at them before hanging off the edge of the sofa so she was looking at the floor.
“Okay, fine,” he sighed, leaving Sandrine to her carpet contemplation in order to investigate the rest of the first floor with Carole diligently following behind him. She’d stop occasionally to look for her sister in a flower pot or a cabinet, only to come back with a disappointed whine.
While it was cute that Carole seemed to be under the assumption they were playing some sort of game, Wriothesley was getting concerned. Out of the three of them, Lucille was the least prone to mischief (she took after Neuvillette like that). It was surprising she hadn’t been on the couch next to Sandrine, or one of the other chairs.
He gave thought to checking upstairs, but knew it was still something of a struggle for the pups to climb them and he knew he hadn’t left her in their room…
He returned to the living room, where everything was exactly as he remembered it- including Sandrine hanging partially off the edge of the couch, but she seemed to have slid forward slightly more so she was actually looking under it.
Wait a minute…
He got down onto his hands and knees, lowering himself down so he was practically chest to floor. Sure enough, there was a little trembling heap of silver scales and teal fins. From her protective ball, Lucille poked her head out from under her tail, blue eyes glassy.
“There you are…” he let out a relieved sigh, “Come on out, sweetie.”
She lifted her head a little more, but dove back down for cover just as quickly when a crack of thunder resounded throughout the house, making the windows rattle. Once again, she was a tiny quivering knot of scales, whimpering quietly.
Carole made that worried trilling noise again, now laying on her belly next to Wriothesley, looking at her fearful sister.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure her gently, “The thunder isn’t going to hurt you, it just sounds big and scary.”
When Lucille risked peeking at them again, Carole got back on her feet, doing a play bow and letting out a happy chirp to try and comfort her sister.
It didn’t do much to pique her interest, she went back to hiding again. Carole deflated and flopped down onto the floor with a defeated noise.
“You tried, at least,” Wriothelsey patted her head.
Normally, he’d leave her there to calm down but this was the last thing he wanted to do on a day like today, for Neuvillette to come home only to find two of his daughters because the third was too afraid of the weather that he, albeit unintentionally, caused to come out.
“Sorry about this, Lucille, I’ll make it up to you later,” Wriothesley stuck his arm under the couch, shoulder jammed awkwardly against the frame. He groped around the carpet for her, and eventually, his fingers brushed against something smooth as cool right as he heard the door open.
“Wriothesley?” Neuvillette called.
“Neuv- Ouufh!” he choked as Sandrine jumped off the couch, bounced off his ribcage and to the floor as she raced Carole to the foyer, which was immediately followed by a chorus of joyous chirping. Oh how he wished he wasn’t stuck, it was always a delight watching the girls run around their father’s legs and play in his coattails.
“Why, hello to you too, my dears,” he greeted warmly with a bright laugh, “But there seems to be only two of you, and where’s your father?”
“In the living-,” Wriothesley felt a sharp, stinging pain as something pierced the webbing of his fingers between his thumb and index finger, “Ow!?”
He banged his shoulder against the frame again as he retracted his hand like he’d just grabbed a hot pot on the stove. Rather than a burn, however, there was a bright red, crescent shaped wound, blood starting to seep over his palm.
“Wriothesley?” Nevuillette finally came into the room, two delighted pups squirming in his arms.
“W-welcome home,” he grimaced, clamping his other hand over the injury to stall the bleeding.
“What happened?” Neuvillette asked in alarm, practically dumping poor Carole and Sandrine onto the couch before taking Wriothesley’s hand in his.
“Lucille bit me.”
“What? She’s never bitten anyone! Not hard enough to draw blood anyway…” Neuvillette frowned. “Why did she do that? What happened?”
“I probably asked for it honestly…” Wriothesley winced, “I was trying to get her to come out from under the couch.”
“Why...why is she under the couch?”
The rain had let up somewhat, thankfully, which was no doubt aided by Neuvillette coming home to his delighted daughters.
“Was she playing and got stuck?”
Wriothesley bit his tongue and glanced at his other two girls, who were clearly still worried about their sister. If they could speak, he got the feeling they would chastise him if he lied.
“Wriothesley…?”
“The thunder,” he said finally with a heavy sigh.
“Thunder?”
“Yeah, during the rain...she got scared of the noise,” Wriothesley kept his gaze on the space under the sofa, “I...was hoping she’d calm down and come out when you got home.”
When he looked back up, Neuvillette was visibly dismayed and his face fell and, in response, the downpour picked up again but much, much heavier, to the point it actually startled Carole and Sandrine.
“A-ah! Neuvi! I-I’m…” Wriothesley quickly rearranged their hands so he was holding Neuvillette’s instead, “I didn’t mean...this isn’t your fault, you can’t control it.”
“I...I know but…” he hung his head.
“You had a bad day, and we don’t even have to talk about it…” Wriothesley said somewhat frantically, “Everyone has bad days. Look, Carole and Sandrine are happy, and I am too-.”
“I’m…” Neuvillette was still very dejected. This was not going as well as Wriothesley had hoped…
He sucked in a breath, “They weren’t playing outside were they?”
Wriothesley shook his head but then tried to comfort him with a smile, “Carole was at the window all afternoon, she was worried about you.”
As if to emphasize his point, Carole reached over from her spot on the couch to gently tap her father on the shoulder, making that happy trilling noise again.
Neuvillette gave her a sad smile but the rain didn’t let up as he looked at his lap.
Wriothesley wrapped his arms around his mate, hugging him tightly and rubbing his hand up and down his back. He wanted to ask about the trial but felt that could wait, if they discussed it at all. Perhaps tomorrow, he didn’t want the girls to hear about the trials and, most likely, Neuvillette didn’t either.
“It’s not your fault, it’s just like when I stepped on Sandrine’s tail,” he comforted, “That’s all it was, it’s just an accident.”
“How is my inability to contain my emotional influence on the weather an accident?” Neuvillette asked shortly, voice muffled into Wriothesley’s shoulder.
“It’s...it’s just one of those things that happens,” Wriothesley explained, “Don’t worry about it so much.”
Neuvillette didn’t reply when he sat back, looking away, face filled with shame and sadness.
“Neuvi…”
There was a soft chirruping noise, a very reluctant sounding one as another rumble of thunder ended it with a tiny gasp. Lucille had been slowly crawling out from the safety of her little cave, but flinched back, fins drooping.
A small distressed noise escaped Neuvillette’s throat, one of those more dragon-y sounds he’d become more inclined to make since the pups had been born. He just became more dejected until Lucille finally slid out and clambered up onto his lap.
She raised herself up on her hind legs so she could rest her paws on his chest, squeaking softly to try and reassure him. He looked down at her, gently stroking his hand over her delicate fins.
“I’m...sorry for scaring you,” he said, smiling a tiny bit, but there was still a pinch of sadness in his expression. Another thunderclap, muffled at is was, sounded. It was farther away than the previous one. Lucille still tensed up, she didn’t flee however.
“There, see? Nothing to be scared of,” Wriothesley grinned and lightly nudged his daughter in the side like he did with Carole earlier, but avoided knocking her over.
Neuvillette gathered Lucille up in his arms and hugged her, she happily nuzzled up before managing to wriggle out of his grasp, over his shoulder, and then under the collar of his jacket where she vanished into his coat.
“L-Lucille!” he protested with a laugh as she slid down his back, becoming a lump under what of the fabric was pooling on the floor, her tail still visibly swishing back and forth from where it poked out from the hem. The rain was steadily letting up again and no more thunder sounded as Neuvillette was jumped by Sandrine and Carole.
Wriothesley let out a quick sigh of relief, glad to see his mate smiling and laughing as Sandrine pounced on her sister under Neuvillette’s coattails.
“Now, now, be nice,” he chided as Sandrine bounded off when Lucille climbed out to bite at her. Carole happily circled her sister, pawing at the floor and chirping, eagerly asking to play.
Lucille looked up at Neuvillette, hopping up onto his lap again so she could climb up and lick his cheek.
He laughed softly, “I love you too, my dear.”
With that, she ran off to join her sisters, chittering happily, a far cry from how she’d been mere minutes ago.
“There, see?” Wriothesley smiled, “Kids are resilient, nothing’ll keep em’ down for long.”
Neuvillette sighed, “I know, I should’ve…”
“C’mere,” Wriothesley moved over on the floor so he could wrap his arm around Neuvillette’s shoulders, tugging him closer so he could rest his head against his chest.
“You’re all good,” he kissed the top of his head as Neuvillette sighed heavily.
“I’m sorry...the trial...it involved children.”
Wriothesley sucked in a breath through his teeth and squeezed his shoulder.
“Yeah, I guess it’s hard to keep being objective about that sort of thing when you’re a parent now.”
Neuvillette nodded, “It’s not that...I can’t still be objective about it but…”
“I didn’t say that you were. Stuff like that...it’s difficult not to worry about it possibly happening to it yourself,” he paused, “What was the verdict?”
“Guilty, what else would it be?”
“So I’ll be seeing them soon. I’ll be sure to give them a...warm welcome,” Wriothesley assured him, wrapping his arms tight around Neuvillette, “People who hurt kids aren’t exactly viewed positively by other prisoners.”
“Normally I wouldn’t condone such abuse of power but I think it’s somewhat...justified here,” Neuvillette said with a somewhat dark chuckle, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just admit to planning to abuse your power for the sake of justice.”
Wriothesley pulled back, gasping in mock offense, “I never said I’d abuse it. I just might write off a suspicious death in the production zone as an accident-.”
“Wriothesley.”
He held his hands up, “You heard nothing.”
Neuvillette gave him a dubious look, raising an eyebrow, Wriothesley grinned.
“You can’t prove it in court-.”
“Wriothesley, shut up,” Neuvillette rolled his eyes and got to his feet. Wriothesley in turn quickly followed his partner.
“I’d like very much to not think about anything work related for a little while,” Neuvillette shrugged off his judicial robes. Wriothesley seized the chance to come up behind him and wrap his arms around his slim waist.
“Fine by me,” he hummed, “I was thinking maybe pizza for dinner, I found this great recipe from Mond-."
A spectacular clatter erupted from the kitchen, followed by frantic scrambling as Lucille bolted out of the room and dove for cover under the dining room table right before a lid rolled past the doorway.
Wriothesley detached himself from Neuvillette and rushed over to the kitchen to find the pot cabinet open and the contents dumped all over the floor. Sandrine popped out of a large cauldron and Carole stuck her head out of the now empty space.
“Guess we’ll have to seal that cabinet off too...for poor Lucille’s nerves at least,” Wriothesley rubbed his temples.
“Good luck with that,” Neuvillette knelt down to retrieve the daughter in question, who, had she possessed fur, would have no doubt resembled a terrified cat.
Wriothesley thought about all the time they’d managed to get through his attempts to keep them out of various places, mostly the kitchen cabinets...and the drawers...and the closets...and Archons, they'd figured out how to untie knots with their teeth. He groaned.
“You can help, you know.”
“And ruin the satisfaction of watching my darling daughters outsmart their own father? Never.”
“Okay, now it’s your turn to shut up…”
Neuvillette regarded him smugly before his smile disappeared, “You-you might want to stop Sandrine before she knocks over the-.”
Another crash, glass this time. Wriothesley grimaced.
“That...was the olive oil, wasn’t it?”
“Same shelf but no, that was the white vinegar.”
“Someone’s getting put in the pen after this…” he turned back around to find Sandrine on the counter, attempting to slink away from the scene of the crime. She realized she’d been spotted, slipping and sliding on the spilled vinegar as she attempted to flee.
“Oh no you don’t! Get back here, young lady!”
All things considered, if there was anything Neuvillette relied on most when it came to parenthood, it was his instincts. That sort of paternal ‘sixth sense’ as Navia had called it to know when something was amiss- pains, sadness, hunger, attention...or just when it had been suspiciously quiet for too long.
It was like some kind of switch had been flipped as soon as he was aware the eggs were fertilized, an instinct to be almost hyperaware and protective...even if it had resulted in him breaking Wriothesley’s ribs and almost drowning Navia by accident because she hadn’t announced her presence beforehand.
He’d refused to budge from their nursery once they hatched, blind and vulnerable as they were. Yes, he had Wriothesley, but...somehow that knowledge didn’t soothe his nerves as much. Not that he told his mate that, and Wriothesley had just brushed it off as something expected. He’d carried those eggs for eight long months, after all. Of course he’d be reluctant to part with them.
It had been a delight to watch them finally open their eyes, all three of them having the same piercing blue eyes ringed with yellow as their human father. They minded them as they struggled to figure out how to coordinate their long, slender bodies...especially Sandrine, who Neuvillette worried was going to hurt herself because of how determined she was to move.
Wriothesley had assured him that bumps and bruises were just a part of being a kid, and Sandrine had indeed proven herself to be the fastest learner. She was quick to learn to swim, make a massive mess, and then promptly escape despite still being dreadfully uncoordinated, leaving Wriothesley to chase her down and then mop up the puddles of water all over the second floor.
Lucille was the softest and most delicate of the three of them. Not weak, but wary and easily startled, the light sleeper prone to crying for her parent’s attention late at night, and she loved books. While unable to read her own at present, she’d always indicate her desire for a story by pawing at the bookshelves. The ones that held her attention the most were Fontaine’s famous detective stories, and she’d inevitably complain loudly when bedtime reading would be left at a dramatic cliffhanger for the following night.
And then there was Carole…
Carole, the sweetest, brightest, most passionate of the trio. Always the first awake, always the last to sleep, always chasing after her parents, always eager to play with her sisters. Neuvillette loved all his daughters equally but he seemed to share a special bond with her.
When he had a bad day, she was quick to be at his side. She was always eager to be closer with him, always the first to greet him when he came home…
Perhaps it was daft to assume so, but part of him wondered if some shard of her namesake’s soul had ended up in her. He hadn’t asked any of the Melusines about it, somehow the thought of it was too painful. Carole, his Carole, was her own person. Not...some second chance. Times like when she’d bite his rhinophores to get his attention reminded him of this occasionally (the original Carole would never have done such a thing.)
As such, he’d become very familiar with the distinct cries from each of them and was woken up by Carole crying in the middle of the night. It wasn’t her usual cry of hunger or attention, something about it sounded more...urgent?
Wriothesley was sound asleep so Neuvillette was mindful as he climbed out of bed, retrieved his silk robe, and quickly and quietly made his way to the nursery.
The room was lit by a glass orb filled with faintly glowing purple jellyfish on the dresser, casting pleasant outlines on the ocean themed furniture, including the shell shaped crib where Carole was propped up on the side. Her crying changed to worried trilling sounds as soon as he walked through the door.
She moved to the other end of the inverted nautilus shell, then back to her original spot.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gently, “If you’re hungry-.”
Before he could pick her up, she darted back into the middle of the cradle, pawing at the bunched up, handmade quilt and making worried noises again. Lucille was up as well, nosing at the same blanket, prodding the conspicuous lump in the middle.
With a worried frown, he reached into the cradle and lifted the blanket to find Sandrine curled up under it. Not an unusual sight for this hour, all things considered. It was how worried her sisters were acting that concerned him.
She wasn’t very responsive, even when Neuvillette folded the blanket back. Her black scales were a sharp contrast to the white cushions, fins down in a resting position, but after a minute, he could see the strain in her tiny ribcage, like she was struggling to breathe. She didn’t react like she usually did with annoyed noises and growling until they managed to pry her out of bed (a very Wriothesley thing to do).
She let out a long, weak whine, not a sleepy protest but one of clear discomfort. He brushed his hand along the side of her face and was immediately alarmed by how warm she was.
He knew their natural temperatures weren’t dissimilar to his or Wriothesley’s (albeit his was often slightly lower) so for her to be this hot…
It abruptly occurred to him she’d been very lethargic earlier, not as eager to play and her appetite had been rather poor. He’d brushed it off as perhaps she was tired or just having a bad day, but now, to his horror, he realized he’d been far too careless and had neglected his duties as a parent.
Frantically, he gathered up his daughter, bundled up in the blanket and rushed back to the bedroom. He grabbed Wriothesley’s shoulder and shook it hard enough several times to make the bedframe rattle noisily and bang against the wall.
“Mnng...guh-wha-?” Wriothesley slurred, still clearly half asleep, “Neuvi, what-?”
“Something’s wrong with Sandrine, she’s all warm and she’s not moving and the girls were-,” everything came out in a hysterical rush, to the point Neuvillette wasn’t completely sure he was still coherent and he probably would have continued until he ran out of breath until his mate grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Neuv, slow down,” he rubbed his eyes with one hand, “What’s going on?”
Neuvillette drew in a shaky breath and looked down at the limp pup in his arms, “I-I should’ve paid more attention...she was acting odd and…” rain began tapping against the windows, “She wasn’t...I didn’t think-.”
“Neuvi, what’s going on?” Wriothesley asked repeated with more urgency in his voice.
Neuvillette swallowed and looked up at him guiltily, “I...I think Sandrine is...sick.”
The response was almost instantaneous, like Wriothesley had been skewered with a bolt of Electro. He reached over and cradled her face in his hands.
“She’s hot…” he stroked his hand down her back, eyes filled with worry, “My poor girl…”
That quiet distressed whine tumbled out of Sandrine again before she sagged in Neuvillette’s arms.
“W-we have to get her to Sigewinne, she’ll know-.”
“Neuv it’s-,” Wriothesley picked up the clock on the bedside table and held it closer to his face, “It’s three in the morning. I know you’re worried but I’m not slogging all the way to Meropide at three A.M. for a fever.”
Neuvillette very vehemently wanted to argue, and had opened his mouth to do so, but Wriothesley had already plucked Sandrine and the quilt from his arms and was making his way to their bathroom.
“Let’s run you a bath, get you cooled off,” he soothed, turning the lights on and lighting up part of the bedroom, “Fevers are the worst, you must be achey all over.”
He got a distressed whimper in response.
“You poor thing…”
It was still raining.
Neuvillette got up and followed after his mate, nervously gathering up the fabric of his robe in his hands.
Wriothesley was kneeling next to the tub, Sandrine carefully balanced in one arm. In the light, she looked even worse- her fins were drooped and almost ashen, having seemingly lost all the bright blue they usually had. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was shivering, which turned into a full shudder before she curled up against her father’s chest.
“Shh...it’s okay,” he said over the splash of the water in the tub, “You’ll feel much better after this, I promise.”
“She looks cold, why are you running a cold bath?” Neuvillette demanded watching Wriothesley turn the knob for the hot water on ever so slightly.
“Because fevers make you hot, it only feels like you’re cold,” Wriothesley replied, checking the temperature of the water before quickly shutting it off, “That’s normal, anyone who’s ever had a fever could tell you that.”
“I’ve never been sick,” Neuvillette replied shortly, “A-and they shouldn’t get sick either, not with human illnesses.”
“Did you forget they’re still partially human? They probably have some of the same vulnerabilities,” Wriothesley replied, unwrapping Sandrine and laying aside the blanket, “Every kid has at least one bad sick day, sometimes a few. It’s normal.”
“B-but…”
“Neuvi,” he sighed, “We can take her to Sigewinne tomorrow if her fever doesn’t clear up, but my bet is a cool bath, some juice and a good night’s sleep will do the trick just fine.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Neuvillette snapped before he could stop himself, "Is there some kind of medical study somewhere proving its effectiveness?”
“I know that because I’ve personally tested it. What’s gotten into you, Neuvi? I promise we can take her to-.”
“No, now.”
“I’m willing to bet a million Mora she tells you the exact same thing,” Wriothesley shot back, “It’s just a fever, she’s not coughing or vomiting, right?”
“No, but...she’s not eating as much and-.”
“C’mon, if you- wait, you said you’d never been sick,” Wriothesley sighed and shook his head, “When you feel like death warmed over, you don’t want to eat anything. It just feels like too much work. Again, personal experience.”
Neuvillette approached anxiously as his mate lowered the totally limp pup into the tub. He had only filled it up so it was about ankle deep, so Sandrine wasn’t totally submerged and her chin was propped up on a rolled washcloth to keep it above water. Nevuillette curbed the urge to remind him she could breathe underwater.
Her tail swished back and forth sluggishly.
“There, see? I bet you feel better already,” Wriothesley gently stroked her head, “Could you pass me another washcloth?”
Neuvillette retrieved one of the spares from the little shelf beside the tub. Wriothesley submerged it, wrung it out, and then lightly brushed his thumb over it until there was a faint sparkle of Cryo energy on it. Obviously not enough to freeze it, based on how it was still flexible as he draped it over her body, earning him a surprised squeak.
“Sorry, just a little extra to cool you off,” he explained, smoothing his hand over the cloth, “We have some Zaytun Peach juice don’t we?”
Neuvillette didn’t reply, still staring at Sandrine in the tub until Wriothesley looked at him and snapped him out of it.
“Neuvi?”
“Y-yes, yes we have some. Why?”
“I said some juice would help.”
“How?”
“Well, for starters, staying hydrated is good. For another, why are you suddenly arguing with me about this?”
“I’m not arguing.”
“Maybe but you’re second guessing everything I’m saying,” his brows furrowed, “I know I’m not Sigewinne but I’d like to cite my experiences as a sick kid as a source here, if that helps.”
“But they shouldn’t get human sicknesses! That’s what I’m saying, it has to be something more serious!”
“Neuv, I hate to say it like this, but they’re my daughters too, and I’m human. Of course they’re gonna catch a cold bug here and there,” Wriothesley was visibly irritated now, ”Just...trust me, please? I know you’ve never dealt with someone getting sick like this, but I have. Sandrine will be fine.”
Every part of Neuvillette’s instincts were screaming. He shouldn’t leave Sandrine alone, she needed immediate and proper medical care...what if she died!? If what Wriothesley said was true and she shared some of his human health risks, then they had even more reason to go! Humans could die from fevers! This wasn’t right...this shouldn’t be happening…!
“I can’t...remember where the juice is,” he lied, looking away, “Is it alright if I stay with her instead?”
Wriothesley seemed to know right away that he was lying, but let out a heavy sigh regardless and turned away, “That’s fine. I’ll go get it. Keep an eye on her.”
Neuvillette sank down next to the tub as Wriothesley got up and walked out. There was clear tension in his shoulders only covered up when he threw on his black cotton robe.
The pang of guilt Neuvillette felt was so sharp it hurt and in response, the rain got heavier, weighted with his worry and shame.
The pups were almost three months old, they were supposed to be past this, weren’t they? He’d watched his mate care for them before, but it had been superficial things like cuts and bumps and bruises, not sickness. That was a completely different beast in Neuvillette’s eyes. Sickness was dangerous, invisible, and was rampantly destructive, millions of people perished to it. How could Wriothesley be so lax about it?!
A confused trilling noise snapped him out of his thoughts as he looked down to find Sandrine looking around but struggling to keep her head up. She wriggled, trying to climb up the side of the tub but being prevented from doing so because of the sloped sides.
“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he said gently, reaching down to pet her sides to calm her down as he so often did. Instead of leaning into it like she usually did, however, she squirmed away, slipping back down into the water.
Neuvillette attempted to calm her again, but as his fingers brushed against her side, she flinched.
She let out a noise of protest which then changed to a cry that Neuvillette had never heard before. He liked to think he was familiar enough with the whole scale of sounds his daughters made- ones for attention, because they were hungry, or when they got stuck in the couch, those happy trilling sounds they made when they wanted to play.
Not this sound, it was a very oddly specific one, a desperate one. She made it again, so Neuvillette attempted to comfort her again but this time, the cry was much shriller and she snapped at his hand. It wasn’t one of the playful nips or curious gnawing, she would have definitely drawn blood if she’d actually bitten him.
She cried again, sliding back down the edge of the tub.
“Neuvi? Everything okay in here?” Wriothesley had returned with a clean blanket and a small shallow glass of pink juice.
Sandrine let out that cry again, but warbly and much quieter, and that was when Neuvillette realized what it was. She didn’t want him to comfort her, she wanted Wriothesley, the cry was specifically for him. In her sickly state, his presence wasn’t enough.
She continued making noise until Wriothesley came over, placing everything to the side so he could reach down, easily coaxing her back into the water and stroking her fins. Only then did she quiet down…
“What happened? Is she in pain?” Wriothesley asked, re-rolling the other washcloth up before nudging his daughter back over to it, “It doesn’t look like she threw up...I could hear her all the way downstairs.”
Neuvillette was too stunned. He didn’t understand. It was natural they responded to him more favorably as the dragon, if there was anyone who could comfort them, if they craved the attention of anyone…
The rain fell harder, heavy droplets pelting the glass. Wriothesley looked up in confusion.
“Neuvi? Hey, what’s- Neuvi!”
Neuvillette got to his feet and rushed out of the bathroom, ignoring Wriothelsey as he called after him.
“Neuvi! Neuvillette!”
Even the usage of his full name didn’t stop him. He fled to the closest room, the girl’s nursery, and sank down on the couch, putting his face in his hands.
As if the torrential downpour wasn’t enough evidence, he was deeply hurt by this realization. That he couldn’t even comfort his own daughter when she was sick, and worse still, that she’d physically recoil like she’d been burned.
He didn’t understand, had his resonance changed somehow, his touch? He felt repulsive. What good was he if he couldn’t even do that?
A familiar chirruping sound caught his attention, followed by a soft thump. He looked up to find Carole, having escaped the crib, padding across the floor over to him.
“Don’t worry, your sister is with your father,” he said with a forced smile. Carole responded by pawing at his pant leg and looking up at him with eyes he was familiar with- piercing blue with a faint ring of yellow around the pupil. Looking at them made his chest ache.
She stood up on her hind legs, paws curling over his knees before she pushed herself off the floor and up onto his lap.
“Well...look at you,” he said with a soft laugh as she swished her tail back and forth proudly. It didn’t last though, because his thoughts wandered back to Sandrine and his face fell again.
“I’m...sorry...I messed up,” he reached for her but stopped, hesitating. What if she responded the same way?
Carole climbed forward, resting her paws on his chest and curling up against him, a soft purr resonating in his ribcage. He slowly wrapped his arms around her and drew in a shaky breath.
Maybe he hadn’t been ready for this...he’d given in to a wholly selfish desire to fulfill a wish he’d never thought would ever come true. Even with everyone around him acting like it was a wonderful thing, a blessing, how lucky he was to have Wriothesley to help care for his- their children. Instinct could only get him so far…what did he actually know about being a parent?
“I’m sorry, I’m a bad father…”
“No, you’re not.”
Neuvillette looked up in surprise to find Wriothesley there in the doorway.
“Where’s Sandrine?”
“Asleep on our bed. She was out like a light as soon as she had some juice,” he replied, walking over to the crib to give an eager Lucille a gentle head pat, “And her fever did go down, if you’re wondering.”
Neuvillette opened his mouth then looked away shamefully, “I’m...sorry...for doubting you.”
“Neuvillette,” Wriothesley sighed, scooping up Lucille before joining him on the couch, “I get...that you were freaked out and I don’t blame you at all, but…”
Carole’s tail thwapped against Neuvillette’s knee to get him to pay attention.
“Panicking won’t help anyone. If she had something worse, you’d better believe I’d be waking up Sigewinne about it,” he looked at him seriously, “But...you know I wouldn’t risk our daughter’s lives for something as pathetic as my ego.”
Nevuillette’s throat constricted, “S-she snapped at me when I tried to comfort her...I don’t understand...they’ve always…”
“Probably because you were freaking out,” Wriothesley said bluntly before sighing again, “And...I get that. Really I do, I was worried too. A kid getting sick can be really scary for parents, especially new parents, but you know how sensitive our girls are, plus the rain-.”
“They’re...not out in it though…”
“No, but they’re not stupid. They know rain means you’re sad and they worry.”
Neuvillette felt a twinge of guilt again.
“They’re at the windows until you come home and they’re always happy to see you, and it always brightens your mood, doesn’t it?”
Neuvillette smiled and nodded, “Always.”
“So, no, you’re not a bad father, and they don’t hate you. I don’t think they ever will so long as you love them,” Wriothesley continued, “Sandrine was just stressed out, and she didn’t need any more stress on top of what she already was experiencing. Don’t worry, she’ll be chasing us around the house like normal tomorrow.”
Carole chirped in agreement, pawing at his chest. He let out a soft laugh and stroked her head.
“You’re...you’re right. I’m sorry...for overreacting."
“Don’t apologize for that, we’re both first time parents, we’ve got different smarts about different things,” Wriothesley replied gently, “Just...have some faith in me, okay?”
Neuvillette rested his head on his shoulder and inhaled his mate’s familiar scent, leather and rust and plain soap.
“I’ll...I’ll try. Just tell me if I start doing it again."
Wriothesley kissed the top of his head, “No problem. Now, let’s go back to bed, shall we?”
He stood up, Lucille still in his arms, Neuvillette followed with Carole in his. Sandrine was curled up asleep near the head of the bed, just as Wriothesley had said.
He held his index finger up to his lips to indicate to be quiet before climbing into bed and carefully arranging Lucille in the middle near her sister. Neuvillette did the same with Carole, remembering how often they did this when they were still eggs. It warmed his heart thinking about how many times he’d wake up to find them all snuggled up against Wriothesley with his arm curled around them.
Neuvillette carefully leaned over the pups to kiss his mate, which was immediately followed by a series of very irritated noises.
“Someone’s jealous,” Wriothesley laughed as Neuvillette pulled away to look down at his two expectant daughters. He chuckled and kissed the top of Carole’s head, then Lucille’s. He went to kiss Sandrine but froze up, he didn’t want to wake her if his touch still bothered her but…
“Well?” Wriothesley nodded towards her, “It’s not fair to kiss two girls but not the third.”
He had a point. Neuvillette pressed a light kiss to the top of Sandrine’s head. She sighed and shifted a little, but didn’t stir, thankfully.
“Sleep well, my darlings.”
Neuvillette usually wasn’t one to sleep in. Work usually required him to be in fairly early, but last night’s incident had thoroughly exhausted him. It was unprofessional but honestly? He was perfectly happy to stay in bed...at least until he felt something tugging at his scalp, then the familiar sensation of contact with his rhinophores and-.
He jolted awake with a pained yowl when whatever, or whoever, was playing with his rhinophores bit down. He'd managed to sit up in time to see a familiar aquamarine and silver blur bolt out of the room.
“Wha-? Mnng...what now?” Wriothesley groaned, covering his face with his hands. Lucille had also been woken up, she blinked sleepily, yawning and stretching before getting up and gracefully sliding off the bed.
“Carole and her bad habits…” he grumbled, checking his rhinophores to ensure there wasn’t any damage.
“Well, that’s one way to get you up for breakfast,” Wriothesley yawned before smiling lazily at him, “Good morning, by the way.”
Sandrine stirred, shifting in the blanket before raising her head and blinking before just as quickly burrowing back into her nest.
“Is...is she still not feeling well?” he asked nervously, reaching over and stroking the fins on her back. He noticed some of the color had returned.
“Does she still have a fever?”
Neuvillette shook his head, “No, she feels normal again.”
“She’s just fatigued from being sick. It happens,” Wriothesley explained, “Fevers suck the energy out of you, she’ll probably want to just sleep today. We just need to make sure she stays hydrated...maybe we can see if she gets hungry. She probably will, if she didn’t eat much yesterday. But keep it light, sometimes your stomach can still get messed up. So your consomme might be appreciated for once.”
Neuvillette gave him an exasperated look, knowing full well that his brood had a tendency to turn their noses up at his preferred food and favored meaty meals much like their human father.
“That aside…” he rolled his eyes and thought for a moment, “Light foods...something like gelatin?”
He wasn’t entire sure what ‘light foods’ entailed, something with few ingredients perhaps?
“Gelatin is perfect,” Wriothesley smiled and Neuvillette couldn’t help but let out a quick sigh of relief. It didn’t last because the next thing he heard was a series of thumps that got progressively further and further away until it stopped abruptly.
“And...someone just fell down the stairs. Again,” Writhosley shook his head, “It’s going to be one of those weeks, isn’t it?”
“Possibly, but…” Neuvillette smiled at his mate, “I know everything is going to be okay."
A cry interrupted them before Wriothesley could respond. It was definitely Carole from somewhere on the first floor.
Wriothesley chuckled, “Don’t worry, bumps and bruises are my specialty.”