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89 Years, 6 Months, 3 Days
There was no such thing as a spontaneous public appearance for a god.
Every "casual" appearance Furina made at a boutique, art gallery, or fashionable new cafe was planned out weeks in advance. Routes were checked, shops were investigated, and Neuvillette's agents would ruthlessly background check every single barista who might touch Furina's food. He had agents walk the route for three days before Furina's "spur of the moment" appearance at an up-and-coming flower shop, mapping out every alleyway, balcony, and shadowy corner that could hide a threat to their entourage.
It was getting difficult to tell which of his fears were legitimate and which were pure paranoia; there was no way to be one hundred percent sure until something went terribly wrong. Worse still, his concern was beginning to annoy his patron.
"You don't need to hover you know," Furina sighed, waving and beaming at the small crowds that gathered when they heard their Archon was sighted in public.
"I am not hovering …"Neuvillette muttered, his eyes sweeping the street before them. In the near-century they had conspired together, Neuvillette found that Furina was hot or cold on his presence depending on the week. There were times when Furina truly seemed to be grateful for his support…and times that she didn't need him squawking over her like a giant territorial swan, thank you very much .
"Well, whatever you're doing, do it a few steps back please ,"Furina replied, never breaking her smile as she spoke quietly to him. "I know you think I'm just window shopping- ."
"A poor choice of words on my part," Neuvillette sighed. "Again, I apologize, but-"
"But it's been four weeks since I last showed myself outside the Opera or the Palais," Furina muttered between smiles. "People need to see their Archon in the flesh."
"Snezhnaya recalled their diplomats two weeks ago," Neuvillette reminded her. A routine return home, he was assured; the diplomatic and military branches of the Tsaritsa’s forces were simply “reorganizing”. As if the departing dignitaries would tell him if they planned to attack Fontaine.
"All the more reason to make an appearance and reassure the public that everything is fine," Furina said, irritation creeping into her voice. Even after she thought she had established herself as the Archon, she could still see people looking to Neuvillette whenever she issued an order; as though they needed his permission more than hers. Her irritation at being looked over was more than mere jealousy, however; contrary to what many people believed, Furina was not an airhead. She had spent the better part of a century creating Focalors in the minds of her subjects and was achingly aware of every threat to her public image. The peace Fontaine enjoyed was predicated on the idea that her people were led by a strong Archon; one that didn't need to rely on her familiar as much as Furina relied on Neuvillette.
Heaven itself needed to believe that Furina was Focalors in all her radiance, and it was simply too hard to shine in a dragon's shadow.
"Thank you for your concern, but I am capable of going for a walk by myself," Furina said, dropping her voice as the guards cut a path through the packed streets. “Please just let me work.”
"Suit yourself," Neuvillette growled, hanging back a few steps to let Furina peruse the street market unperturbed . There were times when his patience with Furina wore thin, especially when she seemed to think he took pleasure in being an overbearing nanny for a powerless demigod. He was glad Furina had found a love of the crowds; they needed someone to turn to after so much calamity had rocked their nation in recent memory. But with that love came a logistical nightmare; a shifting guard detail that had to take into account a dozen unexpected variables and random people approaching Furina in broad daylight.
Let's just get this bloody walk over with so we can get to the Opera, Neuvillette thought, watching Furina approach a new flower vendor to examine the rainbow roses on display. Furina always made it a point to stop at newer shops first; the fledgling businesses got a little bump of attention and the local economy got a shot in the arm from fashion-slaves looking to purchase the same flowers that graced Furina’s table. It was pragmatic, and Neuvillette could see why she did it…but something about the vendor behind the stall’s counter was off. He couldn't put his finger on it yet, but he seemed jitterier than most merchants when they met their Archon.
"Hey, what the hell, Henri?" A nearby guard whispered to his comrade as they watched Furina lean in for a sniff of a rose. "I thought you said there was a cute girl who worked at the new flower shop!"
"She was here this morning…maybe she went home sick?" Henri murmured. Neuvillette frowned, eyeing the tall, sandy-haired man in his late thirties across from Furina; neither cute nor girlish in any way. The man glanced around uncertainly, eyes flickering from Furina to the men hanging a few yards back and finally to Neuvillette. From across the canal, Neuvillette could see the man's pupils widen as he realized the Iudex was staring at right at him and his fingers twitched as he reached into his jacket for something.
"Oh I simply need your entire stock of these roses," Furina laughed, running her finger along the stem as she held the flower up to the sunlight. "This color is exquisite; how did you-"
A hand clamped around Furina's wrist, slamming it down on the flower stall and snapping the rose she was holding in half.
“E-Excuse me, what are you-” Furina turned, mouth open in a cry of surprise as a black, crackling knife emerged from a sheath in the flower vendor's jacket. The guards shouted something behind her, but time seemed to freeze as the blade arced down towards her throat. The split second before her death lasted a lifetime, the tip of the knife slicing the corner of her hat as it sought the soft patch of skin between her neck and shoulder.
Then an unearthly roar like the crash of a waterfall on stone flooded Furina's ears as the water from the nearby canal erupted in a ferocious serpentine geyser. The assassin, clearly not a seasoned killer, dropped his knife as the water snaked towards him and slammed him against the wall. The knife fell, clattering on the wet stone as Furina watched her would-be killer bounce off the stone wall and land in a heap on some pre-cut bouquets. The guards moved fast to restrain him, but Neuvillette moved faster, one arm grabbing Furina around the waist and pulling her back as the crowd erupted into panic.
For a few minutes, Furina couldn’t make sense of anything as the street descended into chaos. Her ears were ringing too loudly to hear the shouts of panic from the crowd as Neuvillette hauled her into a bookshop next to the flower stand. He was barking something at the shopkeepers, his viciously sharp canines flashing in the light as they scrambled out of the shop. Only when the shop doors slammed shut did Furina hear the roar of the crowd outside, the guards frantically trying to keep order and Neuvillette calling to her as he sat her on a stool.
"-rina…Furina!" Furina blinked as he tilted her head up to look at him. "Are you alright?"
"Fine…" Furina said automatically, not sure if she was telling the truth yet. “I’m fine.”
"Did he get you?"
"No…no just my hat…" Furina said, her finger tracing the jagged gash in the velvet with a sick sinking feeling in her guts. “I’m f-fine.”
“Are you sure?” The soft leather tips of his gloves, tilted her chin up, searching for any gash or knick on her skin. “I didn’t clip you with that geyser, did I?”
“No…” Furina said, barely even damp despite the fact an aquatic explosion had gone off a few yards from where she stood. “I’m…I’m f -fine, Neuvillette…”
She clearly wasn’t; her skin was unusually pale and her eyes struggled to focus on the shop around her. Furina wobbled unsteadily on the bench, breath coming in short, quiet gasps that she sucked through her nose.
"That man was a bloody coward," Neuvillette growled, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the shop was empty. "We'll find out who sent him; for now, let's just get back to the Palais-"
"We have the play this afternoon…" Furina mumbled, her voice distant and eyes glassy. “And…and I h-had reservations for lunch at Le Blanc …I can’t miss that…”
"What?" Furina waved him off as she stood, taking slow, calming breaths as she paced the lengths of the bookstore. "You're concerned about a play ? You nearly got your throat slit!"
"I…I said I would come to this performance," Furina said, rubbing her neck as she paced back and forth in front of the counter. "It's a charity gala…people expect me to be there."
Neuvillette suppressed a snarl of frustration. "That doesn't matter right now-"
"Doesn't…matter?" Furina turned, her expression hardening into a glare that was almost worthy of the Hydro Archon. "That's… all that matters right now."
"Furina-"
"If I just duck and hide after one maniac with a knife comes at me then what kind of god am I?" Furina asked, gripping the counter to try and stop her fingers from shaking.
"A prudent one," Neuvillette said before he could think better of it. "A living one…would you prefer to be a dead one instead?"
"I’d prefer to be one people put their faith in," Furina bristled.
"Getting attacked is not a sign of weakness," Neuvillette said. "You think people will lose faith in you because someone took a swing?"
"One man with a knife cannot be enough to shake an Archon," a clearly shaken Furina insisted. "What…what would the Raiden Shogun do if she were in my position?"
"You are not-" Neuvillette took a deep breath. "...she would have removed the man's head from his shoulders with a single swing of her sword, but-"
"But… I can't do that," Furina said, fists clenched at her side. "I can't snap my fingers and display my godly might…but I can sit and smile through a play and show everyone that Focalors is alive, unharmed, and unrattled."
"Make a statement from the Palais then," Neuvillette sighed. "This killer might not have been acting alone; there could be other assassins out there. Next time we may not-"
"I'm sorry…this isn't a discussion," Furina said softly but firmly .
"No, you seem more interested in dictating than discussing ," Neuvillette growled. "Does your own life mean so little to you that you'd gamble it over some public appearance?!"
"I wasn't put here just to survive, Neuvillette," Furina snapped. " Living isn't the only point; I have to live and keep their faith by any means necessary. I-"
Furina swallowed, pressing her lips tightly together until they stopped trembling long enough to speak. "If I look weak, I am weak…a moment of weakness could lead to an uprising. I-It could lead to an invasion; i-if I go home now, I'm telling the whole world that I'm scared. And who would believe in a god like that?"
"Furina-"
"Drop it!" Furina's voice rang off the walls, loaded with as much authority as she could muster.
Neuvillette’s jaw tightened, drawing himself up to his full height as he looked down at her. "...I can just take you home, you know."
"You think the guards will listen to you more than me?" Furina asked. It was a question that she had wondered for years now; Neuvillette was the greatest asset and threat to her charade and Furina knew it. If he ever turned on her…she wasn't sure the guards or even the people would have her side.
"Try," Furina said, advancing step by step towards Neuvillette until she had to look straight up at him. "Drag me through the streets kicking and screaming or just gag me and chuck me over your shoulder. And then we can have a real crisis on our hands; Iudex Neuvillette kidnapping the Archon-"
"Kidnap-" Neuvillette's indignant snarl was cut short by a soft knock on the door. "Who is it?"
"Captain Collette, sir," the captain of the watch called through the door. "May I enter?"
Furina smoothed her hair out, straightening up as she looked to Neuvillette for his response. "Well?"
The defiant glint in her eye was enough to make Neuvillette consider calling her bluff. She held his glare, unwilling to be the first to yield and almost daring him to make her come home with him. After a brief eternity, Neuvillette looked away with a frustrated sigh of acquiescence. "...let's just get to the Opera."
Furina took no pleasure in her victory; it meant she needed to find a way to keep the rising tide of panic at bay while pretending to be unperturbed by an assassination attempt. Like walking on a broken ankle, Furina would be hobbling for weeks after this…but that didn’t matter. The show had to go on.
Neuvillette caught her elbow as she moved to step past him. "If this becomes too much-"
"It won't be too much," Furina said, straightening her shoulders as she gently pulled her elbow away. "It can't be."
It was.
Focalors was a proud and high-energy god that demanded everything of Furina on her best days. This had been the worst day for Furina in eighty-one years, and Focalors still needed to shine brighter than ever. From the moment she stepped out of the bookshop to greet the crowds of relieved citizens to the moment she returned home nearly eight hours later, every second was spent in a feverish attempt to look unharmed. To hold herself together, even as her heart thumped painfully with every beat.
Smile, she reminded herself, though her jaw ached already. The day that followed was a half-remembered haze hidden behind a wall of barely restrained terror. She barely remembered lunch, the sight of roses on the table making her drop her knife with an echoing clang that drew the eyes of everyone in the restaurant.
Keep smiling.
She barely remembered the play, except for the sword fight that ended with one of the characters impaled through the neck. She remembered glancing around once or twice to see if Neuvillette was still near her, only to catch the craning necks of theater-goers whispering and nodding over to her as she watched the performance.
Smile.
She didn't remember the ride back to the Palais, didn't remember waving Neuvillette off for the night, didn't remember locking the door behind her as she entered her private quarters. Only when she was alone with her thoughts did the smile fall and the terrible dread she had been running from catch up with her.
Breathe, she reminded herself, her head spinning and legs wobbling as she made her way towards the bathroom. She sucked air through her lips in short, shaky gasps, gripping the sink for support as she studied her expression in the mirror.
I look fine, she told herself, even if her pupils were the size of dinner plates and she could practically see her pulse in her neck. Nobody could tell…nobody could tell…nobody could-
Furina looked down, peeling her sleeve back to reveal a grimy fingerprint where her assassin had grabbed her wrist. Had that always been there, she asked herself, grabbing a washcloth and frantically scrubbing her skin pink. As she rubbed it, the smell of wet loamy potting soil that clung to his overalls filled the bathroom, making her stomach churn as she remembered the look of malice in his eye when he lunged for her. She grabbed a tough, bristly brush from the counter, dragging the stiff bristles across her skin feverishly as her vision swam with tears. A fleck of red landed in the sink, and Furina looked down to see a splinter from the well-loved brush handle digging into the palm of her hand.
Furina had swallowed bile twice that evening; the third time, she failed. To her credit, she managed to stagger over to the toilet in time, throwing up almond sponge cake and black tea as she gripped the bowl for support. Blood trickled down her hand, only adding to her panic as she tried to frantically mop up the blood between gagging fits.
Breathe, she insisted, wheezing as she finally seemed to empty her stomach after minutes of painful retching. Silent tears streamed down red, puffy cheeks as Furina pulled herself into a tight ball on the floor, clutching her hand with some towels as she tried to will herself to vanish off the face of the earth. Each breath was a struggle against a tidal wave of anguish that forced air out of her lungs in choking, painful sobs.
Breathe, she begged herself, barely able to see her own miserable reflection in the floor-length mirror through her tears. You're alive…you didn't die…just breathe…just breathe…
But had she behaved perfectly? Did the people who saw her smiling and swanning around the city after an assassination attempt believe their goddess was untouchable? Or did she not smile wide enough? Did she laugh too hard or fidget too much when she caught people staring at her? Was this the day she gave it all away? All for a stupid flower? All for a play? Was this what ended her performance? Her arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, trying in vain to give herself the warm squeeze of support she needed. But like always, her touch wasn’t enough; it seemed that she could not even make herself believe that she was fine…how did she expect anyone else to believe her?
I have to go out there tomorrow… Furina thought, rocking slowly back and forth. I need to get myself together…I need to calm down…calm down Furina, calm down…
The more her demands for calm failed, the more agitated she became, teeth grinding together as she tried to keep her sobs to a reasonable volume. Not too loud; never too loud. What if someone heard her? What if someone was listening now? Even in her own room, she felt terribly and dangerously unsafe ; exposed, even as the silence of her living quarters pressed around her.
Finally, she could hold it in no more; Furina pulled a fluffy blue bath-towel down from the rack, crammed it in her mouth and screamed until her throat burned.
Neuvillette's ears twitched as he stood outside her door, hand frozen mid-knock as distant sounds of anguish came from the other side. It was a sound he heard so often in nightmares of aquatic doom; a sound he felt increasingly powerless to stop. Sighing through his nose, he lowered his hand, clasping it behind his back as he remained impotently frozen on her doorstep. She didn't want him there; she made it plain that he was overstepping his authority and sticking his nose where it didn't belong. The last thing she needed was him hovering over her while her world caved in...yet Neuvillette stayed. It seemed…wrong to turn away for some reason. Her grief would one day buy Fontaine a chance at a better life; this was the cost of averting a catastrophe.
If he could not ease it…at least he could witness it. At least someone would know the price Furina paid.
Furina woke on the floor of her bathroom, head throbbing and mouth dry as a bone. The light from her bedroom told her the sun would be up soon and that she had spent the whole night curled up on the bathroom floor, smothering her sobs until a fitful sleep took her.
Look at me…aren’t I just the picture of a proper god? Furina thought bitterly, pushing herself up with a groan. Her haggard reflection stared back at her from the mirror, dried tears clinging to her cheeks and eyes puffy from crying. Her palm had stopped bleeding, but an ugly scab clung to her skin; nothing some gauze and her glove couldn't hide from the world. Part of her didn't want to wash up; part of her was glad that she looked as hideous as she felt for once. But a nagging sense of shame had her reach for the washcloth again, meticulously scrubbing her cheeks clean and rubbing her aching eyes until she looked less like death.
Appearances needed to be maintained…even with Neuvillette. Furina was the only person who could afford to doubt her fitness to rule; no one else was permitted to see the cracks that were already starting to form.
What am I supposed to say to him? Furina thought. Miserable as the night had been, sticking to her itinerary and preventing a panic may have been the right choice. Still, Furina’s stomach twisted as she remembered their little spat in the bookshop; now as the shock wore off, she had to grapple with the guilt of lashing out at someone who was trying to look out for her. The only person who knew that she might be less than fine. But exposing the depths of her soul to Neuvillette was something she couldn’t afford; how many crying sessions before the dragon lost patience with his small, fragile little charge? How long before she irritated him into either overthrowing her or worse, leaving her?
The morning was already shaping up to be as depressing as the night that came before, and as tempted as Furina was to just hide in bed all day, her schedule wouldn't permit it. The Court had a busy day for her and declining any of her appointments might have set the rumor mill churning again.
Maybe Neuvillette had my schedule delivered already, Furina mused, padding towards the door that led into the atrium between their palatial apartments. Having Neuvillette across the way from her had been comforting at one point; now a thick haze of tension hung in the air as she opened the door, dreading to see either his disapproving scowl or his vacated apartment.
Instead, Furina found a sleeping dragon on her doorstep.
Neuvillette's broad frame was squished into two small metal chairs, his legs resting on one while he laid back in another. His jacket was draped over his chest like a blanket and his gavel cane was draped across his lap like a crossbow. Furina nearly tripped over him before she noticed him, startled into wide-eyed silence by the small snore that slipped out of Neuvillette’s throat.
Did he…sleep out here? Furina thought, frozen in the doorway as he shifted uncomfortably in his sleep. A thick knot formed in Furina's throat as she studied his pinched expression. It couldn't have been an easy sleep; the small chairs that lined the courtyard connecting their living quarters were meant for tea-parties more than slumber parties. And yet…he stayed.
Even after blowing him off…he's still here, Furina thought, terrified to move in case she roused him. The spell broke all too soon as Neuvillette seemed to sense her standing over him, eyes blearily opening and looking up at her.
"You're awake…" Neuvillette mumbled, pushing himself up in his chair.
"Barely…" Furina shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. "I didn't get much sleep last night…"
"I can sympathize," Neuvillette grunted, cracking his neck with a wince. "These chairs are not made for extended use."
"I think you may be using them wrong,” Furina chuckled, rubbing her arm as an uneasy silence drifted between them. “You didn’t… have to sleep here, you know?”
“Well…I didn’t spend all day looking for hidden blades just to let an assassin slip into your room after dark,” Neuvillette grumbled.
“I know, but-” Furina let out a frustrated sigh. “No, you’re right…I just thought I wouldn't need so much protection by now."
“You know every Archon has a security detail, don’t you?” Neuvillette sighed, tossing his coat off his body and leaving him only in his slacks, boots, and a shirt rolled all the way up to his elbows. The slender fins and patches of scales that curled up his forearms were something he carefully kept hidden from prying eyes under layers of voluminous robes; to her knowledge, Furina was the only one who saw him in anything less than his finery and the only one privy to the Iudex’s “skin condition” as he called it.
“Every other Archon is an Archon,” Furina said quietly. “They can afford to lose a little face now and then because they can back their authority up personally…I need you for that.”
“I thought that was our arrangement,” Neuvillette said. “Do you resent that?”
“...I resent that I keep needing you,” Furina said, frustration causing some of the mask to slip. “It’s not just about keeping appearances up, I-”
Too far, she warned herself. Furina’s lips twisted, a laugh bubbling up from her throat as if she suddenly found the whole conversation ridiculous. “You know something…never mind; thank you for all of your support, Neuvillette …I’m going to freshen up before-”
“ Don’t .” As she turned to leave, one word froze her in her tracks. It was spoken with the same tone he used on irresponsible prosecutors and cagey defendants; one spoken from authority that flowed in his veins.
“Excuse me?” Furina asked, trying and failing to sell indignation as Neuvillette rose from his seat to look down at her. She wished she could intimidate people with just a twitch of her eye like he did; wished she didn't need so much theatrics to be taken seriously. Furina often wished she could borrow the strength in his veins for a day just to see what a proper force of nature felt like.
“You were about to say something,” Neuvillette said, folding his arms across his chest. “Say it.”
“I’m…I’m not sure I’m a fan of this tone-”
“Tell me which tone you prefer then; the words won’t change,” Neuvillette said. “Say it.”
Fear trickled into Furina’s guts as her usual smokescreen didn’t seem to affect him. “If I had something to say, I would have said it by now.”
“I doubt that very much,” Neuvillette said.
“You think I’m lying to you?!” Furina snapped, fear quickly turning into a hot, protective anger that Neuvillette barely seemed to acknowledge.
“I think there are things you still keep hidden from me,” Neuvillette sighed.
“Would you like the key to my personal diary then?” Furina scoffed. “Since you seem to want to read my mind ?”
“ Don’t,” Neuvillette repeated in the same gentle but inflexible tone he used earlier. “I saved your life yesterday.”
“And for that, you have my most sincere thanks-”
“I don’t need thanks,” Neuvillette said. “I don’t need a parade for doing my job…and I don’t need to know every thought you have. But if you mean to say something to me…say it. Be honest, Furina.”
Honesty was a dangerous suggestion; honesty meant that Neuvillette might get a glimpse of how unlike Focalors she really was. Honesty raised the risk of him seeing something he didn’t quite like, but-
“I understand that I can be…stifling,” Neuvillette said, trying to word his thoughts carefully. “And…perhaps I need to figure out how to protect you without stepping on your heels, but-”
“That’s just it ,” Furina said before she could stop herself. “I still need you too much…more than I thought I would by now.”
It was a secret, shameful fear that kept turning in her stomach, only amplifying her feelings of being a complete and utter fraud.
“I thought I could stand on my own a little at this point,” Furina admitted, avoiding Neuvillette’s gaze. “I thought I would feel a little surer of myself by now…I thought I’d be able to do more than just lie to the world but-”
Furina’s shoulders sagged as she fidgeted with her dressing gown. “...I can’t. I’m just a liability that needs to be managed. Yesterday…yesterday wouldn’t have happened if it was you pretending to be the Archon.”
“No,” Neuvillette admitted a little too quickly for Furina’s taste. “It wouldn’t have…because no one wants to get as close to me as they want to get close to you.”
Furina blinked when the scolding she braced herself for didn’t come, looking curiously at Neuvillette as he stumbled on. “I am not well loved…or even well liked...or even well trusted just yet. No one would let me get that close; no one would invite me to tea-parties or salon openings. No one would care for me as Archon the way they care for you.”
“They care for the performance I put on,” Furina sighed. “They care that I show up and say witty things and look presentable for their friends-”
“And you are very good at that.”
“So what ?” Furina snapped.
“ So you show the people of Fontaine that their Archon cares for them,” Neuvillette said. “You show them that they have the favor of the gods; that their country is worth working and fighting for with you at the helm. Your lies, as you call them, are the same lies every leader tells every follower across the world; lies that aren’t yet true…but could be with enough faith.”
“ That is what matters…not all that matters, in my opinion, but much of it,” Neuvillette continued as Furina’s tight-lipped silence stretched on. “Some performances mean more than reality…this pageant of yours requires nothing less than the most spectacular lie ever told. Don’t think that you are any kind of liability… you are the only one capable of carrying out such a task.”
The only one; words that sat in Furina’s stomach like a weight. Nothing made her feel more significant…and more isolated knowing that if Neuvillette were to ever leave she would be forced to carry the weight of her task all alone…but would he?
“You are not some dead weight to be hauled around and maintained…and you shouldn’t demean yourself by thinking you are,” Neuvillette said, the silence unnerving him as he continued to fumble around for the right thing to say. It was such an odd concept to a dragon; that there could be a right thing to say in a right way at a right time. As if the truth changed depending on when and how he said it.
But the longer Furina stared up at him, mouth opening and closing mutely, the more he suspected the he had said the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong way again . And the silent tear that trickled out of her eye seemed to only confirm it.
Magnificent; I have made it worse, Neuvillette thought as Furina’s lip quivered in anticipation of the coming flood. “It seems I’ve put my foot in my mouth again… please forget I said anything. I will see if the kitchen can bring your breakfast up-”
Her hand caught his sleeve before he could turn to go, fingers brushing some of the shimmering blue and white scales that trailed up his forearm.
“ Don’t,” Furina croaked, shaking her head emphatically. “Y-You haven’t misspoken at all, I just…just…”
Despite the shame that hissed at her from the corners of her mind, Furina was powerless to stop the sob that slipped out of her lips. It was the pitiful, plaintive little mewl that lay at the bottom of her grief, the foundation of her sorrow crystalized into a sound only she had heard until now. There was a barrier between them that had always been there; Neuvillette might have been ready to defy destiny with her, but he had rarely seen her indulge in more than a tear or two of frustration. Her grief was shared with her pillows; it was a private and secret shame that Neuvillette was witnessing for the first time.
What am I supposed to do? In the absence of any sort of guidance, Neuvillette tentatively laid a hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. The weight of it seemed to be the final straw that buckled Furina’s knees, causing her to sag forward until Neuvillette caught her around the shoulders. Rather than recoil, Furina just slumped against him, the strength that had carried her nearly a century leaving her body in one painful gasp. Appearances had been kept long enough, and for a few moments, Furina didn’t care how she looked anymore. Neuvillette’s warm if slightly stiff touch was like water in a desert, and if she didn’t drink soon she would die.
Furina tried to remember the last person who held her as she cried, only sobbing more ferociously when she realized this might have been the first time.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” Neuvllette said, for what he didn’t know yet. “I don’t know what I’m doing…I just wanted to-”
Furina only wailed harder when he spoke, so Neuvillette made the tactical decision to just shut up until the bereft little demigod cried herself out. And Furina called herself useless when all he could do was stand there like a statue, bearing Furina’s weight as she granted herself the rare permission to fall against him. But for once, she wasn’t sobbing about the cosmically unfair situation she had been forced into; she wasn’t weeping in fear, doubt, or uncertainty anymore. The tears that stained his shirt seemed to be of pure relief; the cries of a marooned sailor calling to a passing ship for help.
Neuvillette listened to her sniffle as he watched the sunrise dance on the waters outside, giving her as much privacy and dignity as he could while still acting as a living handkerchief. He waited until Furina pulled her head off his shirt, looking wet, puffy, yet somehow relieved as she wiped her nose.
“Th…Thank you,” Furina croaked as she found her voice. “I just…I-I thought you saw me as useless.”
“No,” Neuvillette said, surprising both himself and Furina with the force of his denial. “No…you can’t think that way. You’re the furthest thing from useless…I just wish you spoke up sooner.”
“I w-was worried that y-you would think I was useless i-if I said I-I thought I was useless,” Furina sniffled.
“That…” Neuvillette blinked, and against his better judgment said. “That doesn’t make any sense-”
“ I know it doesn’t make any sense !” Furina wailed, head thumping on Neuvillette’s chest. “D-Do you know how frustrating it is to not make any sense?!”
“...I am the reincarnated lord of the oceans that spent the better part of last week overseeing an international legal dispute over a teapot, so I don't think either of us make much sense,” Neuvillette said, at least getting a soggy laugh out of Furina.
“Ugh…you were right ,” Furina muttered, wiping her eyes. “I-I wouldn’t be such a mess right now if I had just gone home after nearly getting stabbed -”
“But you might have averted a panic by keeping to your schedule,” Neuvillette argued, having spent the night trying to find some objective wrong in Furina’s plan only to come up empty handed. “You’re rather adept at reading a crowd by now; taxing as it was, it may have been the right thing to do.”
“Maybe…” Furina admitted. “Still-”
“ Still ,” Neuvillette sighed. “It’s done ; you survived. And we identified some blind spots in our security detail…this will not happen again, Furina.”
Furina nodded, trying to convince herself more than anyone as she looked up at him curiously. “...did he survive?”
“Hm?”
“My would-be assassin…did he live?” Furina asked.
“Yes, my people are going to question him later today,” Neuvillette said. “Why, were you worried I killed him?”
(An unearthly roar like the crash of a waterfall flooded Furina's ears as the water from the canal jumped out and slammed the assassin against the wall.)
“I’ve just …never seen you like that before,” Furina said. "I was sure that he died after I saw you throw him like that…"
“I…suppose I got a bit carried away,” Neuvillette muttered. “For a second I thought his blade found its mark; I thought you had been-”
Neuvillette swallowed, glancing warily at Furina. “Did I frighten you?”
Furina thought back to the surge of water that stripped the paint from the wall in one violent burst. She remembered the pearly flash of Neuvillette’s razor sharp teeth, the roar of fury that drowned out the crowd and the casual ease with which Neuvillette grabbed her and pulled her out of harm's way. It was easy to forget that her socially awkward aide-de-camp was a bonafide monster out of ancient myths. She lacked divine power, but primal aquatic might surged through Neuvillette’s veins, ready to be summoned with a raise of a hand. Even as her fingers gripped his wrists, she could feel it surge just beneath the surface of his skin, pulsing against her touch. Dangerous power; deadly power, and yet-
“No…” she said truthfully after a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of you…I think even if you had killed him, you wouldn’t have hurt me. I mean…you didn’t even get me wet.”
“Good…that's…well, good ,” Neuvillette cleared his throat with an emphatic nod. This seemed to calm him, his shoulders sagging as a barely perceptible sigh left his lips. Had he been worried that he scared her?
"...which means you can't just growl at me and expect me to do what you tell me to do," Furina said, eyes narrowing as some of her former spunk started to return. "Just remember that I'm not afraid of you the next time you threaten to man… dragon -handle me."
"Then I'll skip the threats next time," Neuvillette teased, glancing at the clock as it chimed six in the morning. The glint in Furina'a eye vanished, her shoulders sagging as the load once again settled on her back. "...I can see about getting your first meeting pushed up to eight if you'd like."
"No…in for a mora, in for a mint," Furina said, fingers brushing his wrist as she reluctantly disengaged their little hug. "And you have court today anyway…our audiences expect us.."
This time Neuvillette only nodded despite his trepidation; let Furina decide when she's had enough. “If it’s too much-”
“It may be,” Furina shrugged, tilting her chin up. “But I’ll manage.”
It was hard not to be fond of Furina when she stood there, teary-eyed and clearly sick but still willing to press on. Humans still baffled him in many ways; why two brothers would spend millions of mora on a legal case involving a teapot worth less than five was still a mystery. There were days where, after hearing every petty, ugly, and angry thing humans said to each other in court, he wondered if it was even worth trying to save these creatures.
But so long as Furina pressed on, so would he.
"I'll send some pastries up for breakfast then," Neuvillette said, stretching his neck with an ugly crack.
"Thank you," Furina said, lingering in the doorway for a moment. "For letting me get your shirt snotty. It…really helped."
"I just stood there ," Neuvillette said with a frown. "I didn't do anything...how was that helping you?"
"I…just spent the last eight hours shaking, throwing up, and trying to stop my heart from beating out of my chest," Furina admitted. "Crying all alone on the floor…like the worst had already happened."
Neuvillette's jaw stiffened, the muffled cries coming through her door keeping him awake long into the night.
"Just…knowing the worst hasn't happened yet…that I'm not alone…that helps more than I can put into words," Furina said, rubbing her arm sheepishly. "Just… standing there is enough. Even if you're not doing anything. Does that make sense?"
"Not especially…" Neuvillette admitted. "But I will defer to your expertise on the matter; I'm glad to… not do anything, if it helps."
"Job well not done," Furina chuckled before glancing at the clock with a sigh. "Alright…we'll talk later, okay?"
Please, she wanted to add, but she already had the terrible feeling that she was being too needy.
"Of course," Neuvillette said, finding himself strangely uneasy as she turned to go back into her chambers.
Much as he didn't want to let her out of his sight, they had their duties to attend to. Their road was too long to spend lingering on every pothole…but the memory of Furina's shocked expression as the knife lunged for her neck burned in Neuvillette's mind as he prepared for the day. He would not see that expression again; he would make sure an atrocity like this never happened again. Not just for Furina’s sake…but for his.
Neuvillette rubbed his neck with a wince. His throat still ached from the roar he had unleashed, an echo of his primordial power that came with a primordial urge. It was the urge to hoard; the same one that inspired the ancient Sovereigns to defend Teyvat in ages past. They did not rise up for selfless reasons; their power, their land, and their subjects would not be yielded quietly because they were theirs.
For a brief moment, as the knife lunged for Furina’s neck, Neuvilette was in touch with his ancestral power. For a second, he felt the tides roar with and within him, demanding blood for the assassin’s transgression. It was a roar of indignant fury reserved for a thief who transgressed into a dragon’s lair and thought they could steal what was his.
His. The word stoked something slumbering inside him, rousing the oldest and most primitive of draconic instincts that Neuvillette had fought for years to reign in. It was an instinct to possess, guard, covet, and defend his treasure against any that would take it away from him…and for some reason, it had been triggered by Furina.