Archive of Our Own ^beta

Humanity was a pool of water reflecting the image of the Hydro Dragon, who'd been born in the form of a human. To understand them was to understand himself, he'd reasoned that day he'd received the invitation to Fontaine, the day he'd left behind his life of solitude under the sea to visit the world of sunlight and of the 'divine'. The Hydro Dragon would then blend in with the humans of Fontaine and take up the surname 'Neuvillette', without a customary first name to go with it, and become their Iudex.

The law and trials, to Neuvillette, were a simple method of uncovering the truth of the human condition. Working backwards from a consequence, to the act, to the circumstances, and ultimately the motive allowed the curious dragon to understand humanity bit by bit. A theft of a loaf of bread may be done by a parent to feed their starving family, whereas a theft of a box of jewelry may be done by one whose envy dictates their thoughts. 

Although now he would no longer say that this method was foolproof in the way that a consequence must mean a singular motive. One case may have the theft of bread be done solely for the purpose of throwing it to the ocean because the baker once humiliated the culprit and another may have the theft of jewelry be done to sell it off and use the mora to buy an orphanage more than enough food for seven years. Four hundred years of serving as the Chief Justice taught him that human motivations were infinite in variety and limitless in ambition, just as a vase may be broken by either a cat or a bird, that even when he felt as though he completely understood humans enough, something would happen that forces him to reevaluate his understanding.

Just like Wriothesley's case.

A little more than two decades ago, he had to put to trial a gangly boy barely at the cusp of coming of age for patricide and matricide. The boy had arrived to court, his visible eye sunken and dead, though from the exhaustion of his undeniable crime or from his deep wounds of the flesh Neuvillette never knew and never thought to ask. Said boy had not only gone against any self-respecting attorney's advice to stay quiet except during cross examination, but had also confessed to the crime the moment Neuvillette began proceedings. And not just confess he had done, but also detailed planning the murders for over three years after finding out the unscrupulous trade of his foster parents. 

So had the suspect turned into a witness, that his testimonies coupled with evidence from his case were used in an investigation that immediately succeeded the trial, and with Neuvillette’s personal involvement in it he made sure to bring the root of the issue to justice. Through the taking of two lives had the boy saved his foster siblings and also the victims who had mercifully still been alive to be found.

Neuvillette, at the time, had found the entire case to be not unprecedented. Just before he'd declared the boy guilty to the disappointed public, he'd already known exactly what sentence to pass. What was shockingly unprecedented had been how the defendant had demanded it of him to find him guilty. 

Most murderers who'd killed for the sake of protecting others had fought to be declared innocent. The question of why had whorled endlessly in the back of his mind the entire time that, at the end of the trial, he'd had the boy held not in one of the holding cells for prisoners bound for the Fortress of Méropide, but in his office. 

It would be the first and only time the Iudex Neuvillette would speak to a defendant outside of court.

A few minutes later, he had found the boy sitting on one of his sofas, staring blankly at the one slice of cake prepared for him. Two guards had flanked him, saluting to Neuvillette and leaving the office with one word from him, and then they had been the only ones left. The skies as seen from the window had been overcast from the rain that had just recently stopped.

"Hello, Wriothesley," Neuvillette had said as softly as he could, but it had failed to grab the boy's attention. "That is your name, correct?"

“Yeah.”

Even with that, the boy had refused to meet his gaze and had remained unmoving, still glaring at the cake laid out in front of him. Or so he initially thought, because Wriothesley had found his voice moments later and had asked, "Why am I here?"

"You intrigue me," Neuvillette had answered, "I want to know why you'd insist on being declared guilty despite the entire Opera, even Lady Furina, advocating for your release or clemency. That, I could have done without question, but you have prevented your own sentence from being lightened. Why?"

"Do you often bring intriguing human criminals here to interrogate them for their motives, Chief Justice?" Wriothesley's stare, betraying a weariness no human child should bear, pierced through him.

Such a question might have been provocative, yet Neuvillette had brushed it off. This had been a youth. Said youth was emotionally dead, as the Melusines would say, and he’d known that oftentimes emotional death occurs when overwhelmed. Treating him with gentleness would be best. Wriothesley's trial had also painted the boy as someone observant and perceptive enough to have suspected his foster parents' genuineness and have arrived at the correct conclusion long before knowing of their sales ledger. "I do not always ask intriguing humans. However, now I must know. You should understand that I am the Iudex. Your sentence is, to me, a miscarriage of justice, even though I would have always found you guilty. You know I could have granted you clemency as much as the law allowed. It carries with it a gravity I cannot ignore."

"Huh," he’d said before appearing to think it over. "I did that because I just deserve it. Isn't that justice?"

"Most would say that justice is what the people think is justice."

"But aren't you the kind of judge that doesn't get swayed by public opinion and sticks to the law?"

Vautrin's trial had flashed in his mind, and the suddenness of remembering it had caused a light drizzle to fall from the skies. The moment a few raindrops stuck to the glass of the stained windows, Wriothesley's gaze snapped from the cake to the window for a moment before settling onto Neuvillette, the first time in their impromptu meeting.

"I always read your verdicts on the Steambird, and the law says that the taking of a life is murder. Whether it is planned or accidental, a life taken is a life taken. Don't you agree?"

"I would say so, yes."

"You just also said that you would've found me guilty anyway, so what's the point?" He had sneered, teeth clenched and fists curled and his visible eye suddenly losing focus—the first outburst of emotion Neuvillette had seen from the boy. "I'm going to the Fortress of Méropide. What's eight years compared to fifteen? There's no way for me but down to hell anyway. I already knew this way before I killed Mom and Dad. So I don’t get why you say I'm intriguing when all I really did was to say from the get-go that I'm guilty."

Satisfying it was not, as Neuvillette still found himself questioning it. Most guilty humans often attempted to get away from judgment. Perhaps, simply put, Wriothesley was not most humans and served yet as another example of exception. Maybe the key to understanding humans was to accept that aberration was the pattern?

"I see," Neuvillette had muttered.

"Okay," the boy had replied in a small voice before again looking forlornly at the rain outside. The blankness of his expression had quickly crumbled since his outburst, giving way to something else unreadable to Neuvillette. "Hydro Dragon… don’t..."

Somewhat curious, Neuvillette had said, "Is there something else in your mind?"

He'd only nodded as a reply.

"Would you like to share?"

There had been a long pause before Wriothesley had said, "I had an older sister, Marianne. She'd get us to the windows every time it rained just to sing a song and told us stories of the Hydro Dragon at bedtime, how it’s so strong that it could make huge tidal waves when it yawned and that when it’s sad it would rain."

Ah, the rhyme.

"I was nine when she left home. I'd stayed up and snuck to the window the night she got adopted 'cause I wanted to say goodbye. Then when I was thirteen, I read the Steambird a little while Mom and Dad weren't looking, and the man who adopted her was convicted of running a prostitution and gambling ring. I looked up the words in the dictionary. And I thought she must've felt so helpless."

Torrents of rain had begun to fall. Neuvillette had remembered that case, and he’d known the fate of a girl named Marianne, though he’d refrained from saying it when Wriothesley's eye had shed a tear.

"I ran away from home. Every time it rained, I thought, Marianne, you were so stupid to think that a little rhyme would save the Hydro Dragon from sadness. You weren't strong enough to save yourself. Who's going to save the others? So I planned for years to kill Mom and Dad. If not me, then who? Not the Hydro Dragon, because if it were really so powerful, why is it that every time we called out to it, the rain never stopped? When I ran away I tried praying to it instead of Lady Furina but none of them answered me! So if it’s real, I hate it so much!"

Along the storm outside, Wriothesley had shrunk into himself and sniffled, his tears falling in fat drops from his uncovered eye. Neuvillette had imagined at that moment a lost child curled up under a torn awning, desperately crying out for the Hydro Dragon to stop crying and to save him, and so he'd immediately edged closer without thinking, approaching as his heart had been rent by the sight of the sobbing boy furiously wiping his tears on the back of his left thumb. Wriothesley had turned from a level-headed defendant perfectly willing to accept his fate to a child reduced to fright at what had befell him. Poor little Wriothesley hadn’t been able to receive the help he once needed and hadn’t known what else to do to ensure the safety of the fellow little people he’d loved.

"I'm sorry," Neuvillette had whispered as he wrapped the little human within his arms. A hug always calmed the most frightened children, he’d remembered. He'd known his body ran colder when humans preferred warmth at their lowest, but the boy had leaned into his body all the same, now weeping into the fabrics of his clothes. With his remaining power over water, he’d felt the pure sorrow the human felt through the tears that made it to his skin. Sorrow, the one emotion Neuvillette had perfectly understood by that time, saturated the boy’s tears, causing him to embrace tighter.

Wriothesley’s handcuffs had prevented him from embracing back, so he settled on grabbing his vest with one hand and curling himself as much as he could against him. He had cried hard, tears falling in constant streams and causing the bandage over his right eye to soak, yet he'd kept his sobbing as quiet as he could. Hesitantly, Neuvillette had begun petting the boy's head and rubbing the boy’s back. Under his touch he had felt the knobs of the boy’s spine, and his heart had ached more. 

“Why’re you sorry?” Wriothesley had cried into his vest, gnashing his teeth as he’d spoken.

"I am so sorry that the Hydro Dragon couldn't save you when you needed him and cannot save you now from the fate that awaits you, so please, let him at least comfort you."

(Please don’t hate me anymore.)

The rain had still been falling heavily by the time Wriothesley’s thin body had stopped quivering, and for a long time they’d stayed together in silence with Neuvillette clumsily rubbing the boy’s back and petting his hair while the boy finally ate the slice of cake prepared for him and drank the water Neuvillette summoned from his personal stash.

When it had come to the time that Wriothesley must be sent to the Fortress of Méropide, Wriothesley had slowly pried himself off of the Chief Justice’s embrace, but when he’d looked up to his face, his gaze had gained a shine to them as if he’d realized something and had once again found a glimmer of hope after his hellish ordeal.

“Thank you, Chief Justice, for everything,” Wriothesley had said before the guards finally whisked him away to bring him to the bottom of the sea.

For fifteen years they would not see each other again; Neuvillette continued his duties as Iudex while Wriothesley served his sentence, the former presiding over a years-long operation to dismantle the trafficking web Wriothesley had blown the whistle for and the latter surviving in a dog-eat-dog world beneath the waves. Neuvillette even personally made sure to compensate all surviving victims, ensuring that they would never want for basic life necessities and help them find their footing in a cruel world. 

Then, at the very end of the latter’s time in the Fortress, the last administrator fled his duties and was promptly caught in Mondstadt of all places, and then only a few weeks later did Neuvillette catch wind of who’d taken over the Fortress. 

And it was not by a legal successor, but by an inmate. 

Wriothesley, during his time in the underworld, had gathered so much power among his fellow inmates that no one in the Fortress thought to question his takeover, but due to it happening after quite the public challenge to the previous administrator’s authority via a duel, many people of the overworld protested. Though his power did not extend to the Fortress of Méropide, Neuvillette fought back as much as he could. This was instantly met with controversy. On paper, Wriothesley committed the crime of usurpation of authority, and because of this it should naturally follow that the Chief Justice must not condone this act, yet Neuvillette exhausted everything he had in him to justify Wriothesley’s ascent. Good behavior, goodwill in part of the inmates and guards and staff, the motive of his crime fifteen years prior ultimately having been benevolence, good performance in the administrative tasks he took over, everything. 

Somehow, this caught the attention of Lady Furina, and in a rare moment of responsibility, she admonished the dissent, citing Neuvillette’s unimpeachable character and even her own wishes to ‘throw Wriothesley’s case into the sea and forget about it’ when the trial had commenced. All protests quickly died down, though Neuvillette painfully had to concede that he was in a god's debt, and the Palais Mermonia bestowed Wriothesley the title of Duke.

It was only when Wriothesley, now grown to be a few years over thirty, once again paid a visit to his office with his Cryo Vision shimmering proudly upon his person and his eyes having seen the worst of humanity yet emerging cloudless, did Neuvillette realize his own motive. He thought of the day he sentenced that terrified boy to fifteen years in prison, and how his heart shattered when the boy declared his hatred for the Hydro Dragon.

(Wriothesley, please don't hate me.)

—

And so, one may understand why Neuvillette was perplexed at the Duke’s strange behavior, though he would admit that he’d only noticed very recently. Embarrassing, really, because he considered the Duke his only true human friend he had.

He could pinpoint when it started. 

It was months after the prophesied Great Deluge had subsided and life had begun to return to normalcy. One day, on a winter day, Wriothesley was in the overworld to pay a visit to Neuvillette’s office and then, after work matters were done, gently took his hand to kiss. Before Neuvillette could comment on this kiss out of nowhere, Wriothesley quickly egged him into delegating the rest of his work to someone else and spending the rest of the afternoon in either Neuvillette’s office or apartment drinking tea with him. The matter of Wriothesley inviting him was not what changed, but Neuvillette’s prompt acceptance was. It came as such a shock to Wriothesley that the man’s eyes were as wide as saucers and he also accidentally dropped the teacup he’d been waving at his face. And then, after his short trip to Sédène to delegate his work and to make no one else disturb him, Wriothesley once again gawped at him like a fish. 

“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette murmured somewhat nervously as he took his seat on the sofa, but the warden still couldn’t stop staring at him. “Why do you look so scandalized?”

“So I can’t be surprised when I don't have to try to take you out to tea at least eight times?”

“Could I also not want to spend time with you? I do enjoy our private times together.”

The Duke managed to choke on perfectly-good air, the thing humans were meant to breathe. After coughing and pulling on his tie, he said, “Monsieur Neuvillette, I’m afraid that wasn’t good for my heart. Warn a guy next time, okay?”

With a quick look into the Hydro map of Wriothesley’s chest, Neuvillette quickly found out that the latter’s heart was beating hard and fast at an alarming pace. He’d never mentioned this ailment the times they’d met in person and even in their letters? Did he want to keep his illness a secret? “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to inflict upon you a sickness of the heart, though I fail to remember when I could’ve done it,” he said, though it seemed to achieve the opposite effect: Wriothesley seemed close to fainting.

“It’s… a different thing you’ve inflicted upon me.”

Now very alarmed, Neuvillette lifted a hand, glowing bright cerulean. “I am no doctor, but I now have complete command over Hydro. If I have cursed you by accident, I can recall it–”

“Wait, wait–,” the warden raised both hands up in a motion to stop him from touching his chest, “–it’s no physical ailment, don’t worry!”

“What could it be, then? Your heart is practically drumming within your ribs. It must be painful. I hate to be the cause of your sickness flaring up, even though I don’t understand how I could have cursed you unknowingly.”

“Well,” Wriothesley said around a lump in his throat, “I wouldn’t exactly call it a curse.”

“Then you must promise me that you will have Sigewinne look you over when you return tonight to the Fortress of Méropide,” he said with a finality to his words. 

“I assure you, Sigewinne has looked me over several times in the past, what, twenty years, give or take. Literally ever since the day I set foot in Méropide. She’s also seen me for this ‘thing’ for the past ten years. But no worries, she’s given me a clean bill of health every time.”

(Don’t be sick. Stay healthy, because I wouldn’t know what to do if you become sick.)

Before Neuvillette could open his mouth to ask what had happened ten years prior, because ten years ago he wouldn’t have considered his relationship with him as a personal one, Sédène strolled in with a cart taller than her, bearing their tea and complementary pie and biscuits. She wished them a wonderful time, complete with a strange wink at Wriothesley, then left just as quickly as she arrived. The doors to the office were quickly closed, and as soon as the lock clicked, Wriothesley took charge of the tea whilst Neuvillette took care of transferring the food and cups to their table.

"Neuvillette," Wriothesley said as soon as the tea was poured into their cups, taking his place beside him on the couch. His smirk was curling the edges of his lips but not quite reaching his eyes, betraying the existence of an emotion that could not be expressed fully. His heart did not cease to beat in a frenzy, instead beating faster. “I have something to say to you. Something I’ve wanted to say for ten years.”

“Yes?” He put down his teacup despite not having taken a sip. A secret kept for years always needed time to come out. He straightened his back, ready to offer an ear, to offer his support for whatever seemed to weigh Wriothesley down so much that he seemed so flustered. He’d never, in the entire time he’d known Wriothesley, seen the latter fidget with anything. Not even that time he had ordered him into his office to ask him about the motive behind his guilty plea. And when he finally said it, it was after choking again on nothing and pulling at his loose tie as if it were blocking airflow.

"Has anyone told you that your hair is beautiful?"

Neuvillette could not hide the sheer surprise at this years-long buried secret. "No. None have told me, at least directly to me. I do hear of others talking about it. What brought this on?"

"Because I, uh–," he scratched the back of his head, clearly stumbling over his words, "–I think they look like rivers of pure snow."

(I am like pure snow?)

His face twitched, as if his cheeks wanted to pull the corners of his lips up. "Truly?"

“Yeah. Since winter is your favorite season, I thought to tell you your hair looks a lot like snow.”

Neuvillette loved winter the most.  The sun, though it still shone irritatingly into his eyes, spent less time hovering over him. It would then always be cold and damp and dark. He felt at his peak in the cold and damp and dark, the water in the air caressing his face and soothing the chronic aches of his hip and leg. Oh, he could do with a dive into a freezing lake then.

“Snow is one of the forms water would take when it undergoes self-purification,” Neuvillette replied, “and so, yes, I find it lovely.”

“I hope that the next time you look into the mirror, you would see your pure snowlike hair and think of yourself as absolutely stunning.”

Gasping, he tore his gaze from Wriothesley’s strangely reddening face and looked down to his teacup where his reflection on the golden water mirror looked back at him. He suddenly felt the urge to lift the teacup to hide his face from the other man, though he didn’t understand why. When the tea made contact with his tongue, all he could taste in the liquid was an intense longing for him and not the flavor of tea leaves . And when he put it down, he already halved the cup—quite uncharacteristic of him, who preferred pure water.

“Neuvillette, I was going to ask you if I could braid your hair, but your, uh, hair things.”

“Hair things? Do you mean my rhinophores?” Neuvillette said nonchalantly.

“So they’re rhinophores,” Wriothesley muttered with a certain satisfaction, as if he’d just affirmed a secret hypothesis. “Your rhinophores were glowing bright blue earlier, but right now they’re really, really pink.”

He blinked. Even if he turned his head, he still wouldn’t see the back of his head where his rhinophores were, but he didn’t need a mirror to know that they were indeed shining bright. It would be strong enough to light up his former home’s grotto in the depths of the sea. He turned his body away—partly since he wished to hide his expression—and took off all his hair ornaments and said, “I now allow you to braid my hair, but please take care. I find my rhinophores to be very sensitive to touch.”

To say that Wriothesley happily took the opportunity to comb his fingers through the length of his hair would be an understatement. Despite having to face everyone and avoiding leaving his back open to anyone in his entire stint in Fontaine, in his entire term as Chief Justice, he found it relaxing to let Wriothesley sit behind him and braid his hair. His hands sometimes pulled on his hair a little too hard and grazed his suddenly much more sensitive rhinophores, yet Neuvillette barely suppressed his gleeful purrs. At some point, Wriothesley commented on them getting pinker, causing a feedback loop until Neuvillette physically could not glow brighter.

A part of him wondered how the Duke was faring with a strong light shining directly into his eyes.

“And there’s the last piece,” Wriothesley said as he tied the end of his hair with his ribbon. “And turn to me again.”

Neuvillette turned back. On the Duke’s face was an endeared expression and he couldn’t help but be transfixed by him, especially when he brushed the locks of his bangs away and tucked them behind his ears.

“You’re gorgeous, Neuvillette.”

And just as his fingertips ghosted the skin of his cheek, Wriothesley pulled back and laughed nervously into his fist, then started a different thread of conversation Neuvillette gladly followed. This time, it was about a group in Méropide that called itself the Beret Society whose leader he just apprehended. Apparently, he’d started investigating the strangeness of the Beret Society when the Mutual Aid Network—Vautrin’s lasting legacy—had put together a list of missing members of the Society and noted strange behavior consistent with cult victims. Wriothesley had then thought to inform Neuvillette and ask for advice regarding the cult leader, Dougier, since just thinking of the man made his blood boil.

They stayed in his office for hours, their conversation carrying on until they had to eat dinner, until Wriothesley yawned, until the midnight bell rang. 

(What’s this emotion?)

Later, when Neuvillette arrived at his private quarters and dressed down to his nightclothes, he stepped in front of the mirror behind his armoire’s door—a mirror not higher than his chin, for he only needed it to check how his clothes looked—pulled his braid hair over his shoulder, and dared to look at his own face.

For a long, long time since his birth, he’d agonized over his human form, his human limbs, his human face. Other dragons and even his subjects had given him a wide berth, despite still bowing to him as their Sovereign of Water. He’d always known why no one dared to speak to him nor approach him, only when they needed to. Why would a Sovereign who was supposed to be descended from the bloodline of pure Hydrovishaps take the mold of a human? 

He remembered being much younger and completely alone in his old dwelling beneath the waves of a sea unseen by the ‘divine’, shards of a broken mirror at the other side of his grotto and his human hand bleeding profusely, his human legs curled before him and his human hair his blanket. He’d lain there, uncaring of the utter calamity happening around him, drowning in his anxieties that he was fated to be the final Sovereign of Water and be the omen of the imminent and inexorable perishing of his kind. What grave injustice would it be to go extinct due to the forces of the divine and to exist unable to return to his original rightful shape, he’d once thought.

"I think they look like rivers of pure snow."

As the Hydro Dragon, Neuvillette was a being of the purest of water. Snow, the manifestation of water’s self-cleansing process, was what Wriothesely used to describe his hair.

“I hope that the next time you look into the mirror, you would see your pure snowlike hair and think of yourself as absolutely stunning.”

Perhaps his hair being white like snow was the way his current incarnation would show the innateness of the purity of the Hydro Sovereign.

And all of a sudden, maybe being shaped like a human was not so bad after all. Not an injustice. Not something that heralded the loss of his identity. Being human or even taking the form of one, as Fontaine had already shown him, was never a sin nor a curse. Perhaps a humanlike form simply was just one of the ways a vishap or a dragon could evolve to have.

"You're gorgeous, Neuvillette."

When he laid down on bed and curled into himself, he could see through his eyelids the blue glow from behind his head.

—

It was only days after that when Neuvillette realized that he should have noticed that the Duke was deeply suspicious that day, that this behavior was not strictly platonic.

Firstly, the Traveller and Paimon appeared in his office looking as mentally constipated as Wriothesley was that day he complimented his hair. Not even the chatty Paimon could get her words out for a few awkward minutes. The Traveller, after a perplexing series of gestures he didn’t understand the point of, begged him to taste a sample of water from a strange inverted fountain in the Chasm. Information about the lifting the curse of immortality placed by the ‘divine’ was involved, so Neuvillette did not hesitate to help. Although the water stank of toxic power, he was able to give the Traveller and Paimon everything he gleaned from the memories in it. They traipsed off excitedly to find a person called Dainsleif, off to another adventure. They acted just like the warden did—come in with a hidden agenda and then emerging at the end as happy as a clam.

Secondly, the Melusines, his beautiful special Melusines, were in on some sort of deranged plan they refused to let him know of. It was strange that they were plotting behind his back, as they have never plotted in secret involving him unless it was for something akin to a gift for his birthday or when they want him to take a break. Also strange that whenever he attempted to tease them about it, they clammed up even more and berated each other for ‘almost revealing’ their secret. Even stranger for them to outright say to his face, “it’s a secret, Monsieur Neuvillette! You shouldn’t know unless Duke Wriothesley is ready to tell you!”

Thirdly, the mentioned Duke. He'd initially thought of his mannerisms as a quirk of his personality. In the history of their personal relationship, Wriothesley sometimes sent him flowers ever since ten years ago alongside personal correspondence that became longer and longer the more they exchanged letters. Eventually they had to separate the business from their letters, the latter becoming much longer than the former as they wrote at length about things unrelated to work like the changing taste of springwater (Wriothesley could taste the difference in the water!) and the struggles of nerve pain and shoulder injuries (I want to help take away his pain.) .

First it was romaritime flowers, then lakelight lilies, then perhaps one could count the bottle of perfume made from lumidouce flowers. Then, on the same day the Traveller asked him to taste some water, it was rainbow roses. 

When Sigewinne , who was supposed to be in the Fortress of Méropide deep under the sea, strode in with the bouquet of rainbow roses and announced it was from the warden, who sadly could not deliver it on his own, Neuvillette could not draw in breath. Only after he placed the beautiful blooms in a vase and scoured his personal library for a book on flower languages did he allow himself to exhale.

Romaritime flowers meant loyalty.

Lakelight lilies meant everlasting promises. 

Lumidouce bells meant longing for reunions.

Rainbow roses meant romantic love.

With a noise that was a cross between a gasp and a purr, Neuvillette realized that Wriothesley was courting him all this time. The first gift of romaritime flowers lined up quite well with the ‘curse’ he’d accidentally inflicted upon the poor warden ten years ago. Then came the second realization; the ‘curse’ mentioned that day was just love. Sometime ten years ago, Wriothesley had fallen in love with Neuvillette and retained this affection for so long, only coming forward with it after a decade!

(Why would he love me? How could he love me if he hates the real me?)

“Sigewinne, I wish to ask you regarding human behavior, as you have spent much more time studying human psychology and have had much more experience with them in contexts outside of the court,” Neuvillette said once he found Sigewinne on a bench behind the Palais enjoying the sea breeze.

“Sure,” Sigewinne responded promptly, “I would love to help!"

He took a seat beside her, resting his cane between his knees. “Is it possible for humans to love someone they hate?”

“Huh,” she hummed, plunging deep into thought. “It’s possible. Many people often say they hate others but they do all sorts of things that mean they actually love them.”

“Would it apply to humans courting others? Do humans actually attempt to court someone they hated before they’d, er, caught feelings?”

"Is this about His Grace?"

Sharp as a tack, Sigewinne was. As someone dedicated to the study of human behavior and often used the mentioned Duke as her 'totally willing test subject', she must be. Now, though, Neuvillette could not shake the feeling that she was also studying him. "Yes."

"But he doesn't hate you," she said, frowning in thought. “He really, really likes you.”

"But if he knew what I truly am, he may realize his feelings of affection are misplaced."

It might have been the wrong choice of words, because the little Melusine was now blinking owlishly at him. "I'm really sure that even if he knew exactly who and what you are, Monsieur, Duke Wriothesley really doesn't mind. Do you know how long I've been forced to listen to him ramble about you endlessly?"

"No."

"Ten years! It was an eternity, Monsieur! And I am over four hundred years old."

Ten years. Wriothesley overtook Fortress administration eleven years ago. That long…?

"But he might always have been under the impression I am human."

Sigewinne dared to level him a gaze that he was sure she used on difficult patients. "I think you should use us, the Melusines, first in a thought experiment type that Duke Wriothesley likes to use," she said, "Let's start: Are the Melusines human?"

"Not at all."

"Do the humans of Fontaine know that the Melusines are human?"

"Of course."

"Do they hate the Melusines?"

Nowadays, not at all. He'd seen it for himself months ago. Dear little Kiara had once received a letter threatening to do something horrible to her if she had not quit her job as a detective of the Marechaussée Phantom, yet when the rumors of it spread right after he’d been seen in public, everyone and their mother basically formed a human fortress around her. Even other Melusines were affected in that the humans around them were on extremely high alert at anything that might hurt them. So extreme was everybody’s reaction that it made headlines for days and the citizens collectively decided to spoil every Melusine and to return retribution tenfold if they’d even smelled a whiff of hurt from them. He had even heard from Clorinde that one overzealous citizen attempted to choke a tree branch to death for ten minutes when poor Mamère screamed in fright, having mistaken said branch as a snake.

"No."

"So it follows that humans don't really hate nonhumans," she said sagely, nodding to herself. “I heard that other countries also don’t really discriminate against nonhumans!”

Neuvillette hummed in thought, twiddling the head of his cane. He knew of the gods’ familiars, as he considered them all ancient enemies, and considered them a possible threat against the justice he sought. The Anemo Archon himself had once been a sprite of air less powerful than a breath. Liyue’s illuminated beasts had once protected humanity against at least eight other rival gods. Inazuma’s youkai, though lesser in numbers, were still mixed among the humans. Sumeru had the children of the forest, though they all hid away in the shroud of dreams.

"I am not a Melusine. Wriothesley does not know, but long ago he has already said he hates me for never having saved him when he called out to me in his childhood.”

"Monsieur Neuvillette," Sigewinne sighed, then he felt two short arms wrap around his middle and a small body press against him. "I'm not a big one, but I know that hugs help comfort people. A big, big hug for you, Monsieur."

"Oh, dear Sigewinne," he said, putting a hand to her back and the other on top of her hat. “Thank you.”

"You really think His Grace hates you, but I know him. He really doesn't. Please trust me."

Of course, Neuvillette trusted all the Melusines. He lowered his head and bent his body to touch his chin on her head. “I do trust you.”

His eyes were about to flutter closed and his arms held the little Melusine tighter, but Sigewinne had to open her mouth again.

“And Monsieur Neuvillette,” Sigewinne added, likely smiling sharply, “care to tell me how you feel about his Grace?”

His answer came without a beat. “He is a trustworthy person and my closest friend among humanity.” Perhaps more, actually. Now that the Duke’s attraction to him made itself known, Neuvillette had to admit that sometimes he’d appreciated the Duke’s handsomeness from a distance, and now that said Duke was clearly courting him, it was awakening all sorts of hitherto unthought thoughts.

“Oh, ‘closest friend’, huh?”

“I have nothing else to confess.”

However, this did not dissuade Sigewinne. She anchored herself on his arm just as he made the slightest twitch to stand up. She then plastered on her big-eyed pout, a weakness of his he can’t hope to win against. “Please! I wanna win a bet! You have to say it or I won’t win!”

“This implies you already know you have won,” he pointed out. “Whatever it is, you must be correct.”

The little Melusine gasped, then after a beat, screamed for no reason, and latched onto his arm even tighter and started vibrating. While she was shaking uncontrollably, she squealed, “So do you have feelings for the Duke?”

“Silence,” Neuvillette whined. It lacked any of his usual authority behind it as he tended to have in court.

“You’re blushing! You’re blushing really, really hard!”

He refused to answer that with any further reaction and resolved to stare ahead with his famed impartial expression, but even though he could not see his rhinophores, the tips felt so warm and tingly like the time Wriothesley braided his hair. The thought of Wriothesley courting him all this time, for years, filled his chest with a fuzziness so unlike the unpleasant sizzle of Fonta going down his gullet. While Sigewinne snickered at him and teased him, his thoughts eventually drifted to what he knew of human courting habits. Neuvillette wondered whether he would do silly human things like serenading and giving gifts and spending time together and kissing. To his surprise, now that he has been on the receiving end of a human courting rite, he found himself wanting for more.

(I think I have fallen in love with you, too.)

—

However, how could someone come to love someone they hate?

That question puzzled him for so long after he realized Wriothesley's intentions. Though humanity often functioned as a foggy mirror through which he could start to understand himself, Neuvillette hadn’t a clue as to whether humans could go from hate to love, though to say he knew what vishaps would do is also not something he was an expert in. In his life before becoming Iudex, he had spent much of his time insulated from his kind, no thanks to his foreign and unchangeable human shape. In spite of his lack of knowledge, he could imagine that not even vishaps would go from hate to love. But he knew for a fact that the opposite happened often, that one could go from love to hate, as it did with violent divorces. 

So how could he observe a relationship like that if he didn't know where to look?

He sought answers through fiction. Books set in unreal worlds, while not a true depiction of true relationships, still offered much insight into the workings of human minds. Human-created fiction promised a peek into their complex little heads. 

One story was about the growing love between two people from opposite factions, a love between oppressor and oppressed. Although he personally found it lacking in substance after the first two-thirds, the relationship was forged through fire and time spent understanding each other and coming to care for each other, eventually overcoming social barriers and causing the downfall of the regime.

Another story presented a love story between two women, one an exorcist and the other a human-turned-demon, and while they attempted to kill one another, the exorcist realized that the demon was turned after the murder of her brother in the name of reviving a god. Eventually, the exorcist joins the demon's cause in killing the god and avenging her brother. This one he liked very, very much, mostly because he loved stories about the downfall of the 'divine'. He'd love to buy a copy of the sequel, actually.

The third book was not too much about romance, but a coming-of-age story wherein a teenage daughter begins understanding her traumatized mother's decisions, though the daughter does not forgive the horrible abuse. It rained in the Court of Fontaine for two hours after the end of the book, when he read about the mother’s death and the daughter’s simultaneous pain and relief. 

How complex human relationships can be, if fiction could portray them like this.

But even as he perused the shelves for fiction, he could not find stories of characters loving the people who failed to save them in their lowest times.

So how did Wriothesley come to love him enough to court him?

—

A rare day off for Neuvillette came in almost like a blink of an eye. So much work, yet eternity was transient. On this sunny day, he set out to Erinnyes, temporarily leaving his post in the human world to investigate the area for vestiges of Abyssal influence. But before he could even get out of the Court of Fontaine’s vicinity, he was met with three people he had never thought would willingly go together until that day.

“Over there, visitor, Nuwinett, over there!”

Neuvillette turned his head to the sound of the familiar voice, and he found himself smiling widely as one of the very young vishaps who’d assumed the shape of a Melusine bounded towards him excitedly. The vishap, who seemed to be walking on water, ran towards him carrying a large satchel.

"Careful, careful," he said, flinching when the young vishap tripped on a rock on the shore. "Pace yourself, little one, and do not rush. I'm here and will not go anywhere."

"Nuwinett! Visitor! Nuwinett!"

His heart filled with warmth as the vishap all but crashed into him with all the excitement of a child. Though vishaps did not have the same concept of hugs like humans, they often enjoyed the touch of another they loved. Mostly they pushed their faces together to breathe in each other’s breath, or simply cuddled together in a heap. The little vishap clung to his leg so cutely he couldn't help but chuckle when he tried to heave her up to carry her on his hip, no matter how painful it might be for his left leg. Only after a while was he successful at prying her off his leg and convincing her to hold onto his shoulders.

“Since you are here, I should ask: is there a problem in Erinnyes I should quickly solve?”

“Melusine!”

"Ah. You are here because you wish to see me?”

“Pahsiv!”

“So then, what brings you to the Court where I work, little one?"

The vishap looked up. "Sibling, sibling, sibling, sibling, friend, cousin, cousin, aunt, cousin, uncle, mother, friend, friend, friend, and many kind, swim, sea, swim, Erinnyes."

Many of the bathysmal hydrovishaps must have followed the beacon of his restored Authority to Fontaine, even though they hated the light. It might become a problem when humans discover them and attack unprovoked, but no matter, he could leverage his power and save them before they could be harmed, unlike what happened with the Melusines. Now, he was more aware of the people's admiration of him and their love of the Melusines, and he would use this to his advantage.

"Crown," she continued.

"Crown?"

"Shell, shell, shell, shell, shell, shell, shell, together, crown."

They stuck shells together to form a crown? "What is this crown?"

The young vishap thrust her paw into her satchel and pulled out a lopsided crown made of beryl conches and placed it on his head. It felt like it could collapse anytime, but he straightened his back as much as he could to balance the thing on top of his head. "Crown! Gift! Nuwinett, crown, dragon!”

Oh. The vishaps who made it to the surface cobbled together a crown of condensed Hydro just for him? How wonderful.

“I told you the beryl conches were way better on his general color scheme than the Liyue starconches you somehow have stashed in your bedroom! How dare you mistrust my judgment on fashion?!” A very familiar voice exclaimed, almost making Neuvillette falter in his hold of the vishap.

Furina, the one and only, was pulling at a certain someone’s sleeve and sticking out her tongue, and that someone was Wriothesley. Both of them were still standing on the water’s surface—Furina must have mastered her Vision enough to walk on water and Wriothesley was demonstrating such fine control that the thin ice under his heavy boots kept him afloat.

“Furina, water human, Rye, ice human, help, Pahsiv, shell, find, stick.”

“I see,” Neuvillette answered with unprecedented joy welling up in his chest.

Many months ago, just after Furina had abdicated, she had been avoidant of him, only ever approaching him when things had been dire for her. Despite his rather obvious pulling of strings to ensure her needs were met and her life as comfortable as possible, she’d run away from him one time when she’d spotted him in public. But now, after he’d apologized to her for being too harsh and allowed her to finally embrace him, she’d taken to dropping off random gifts for him at the Palais. And now, she has gotten out of her way to help a Melusine-looking vishap to craft him a gift.

However, it was perplexing that Wriothesley was here, for did he also not hate Furina, who had once pretended to be the Hydro Archon and focused the people’s attention onto herself? Who had never heard his pleas for salvation?

“Furina, Wriothesley, how come you are here together?”

“Allow me to grace your ears with a story!” And so Furina began her epic retelling of the adventures of Pahsiv the Strange Melusine, Furina de Fontaine, and the Duke Wriothesley of the Depths: Furina had bumped into Pahsiv somewhere southwest of the Court, and after a brief half-hour of attempting to parse Pahsiv’s words, had realized that Pasiv wanted to craft a crown for a ‘Nuwinett’, a visitor to Fontaine. On their adventures of picking up worthy seashells on the seafloor, they had come across Wriothesley, who inserted himself into the group as soon as he heard they had been looking for shells for Neuvillette. 

“He also thinks the starconches of Liyue would look better on you,” Furina scoffed.

Wriothesley weakly retorted with, “Hey, they’re blue, Neuvillette is blue. Usually.”

“But his hair is white! The bright turquoise of the beryl conch matches the color of his hair streaks when they glow!”

“Well, if you ask me about those glowing things, rainbow roses probably fit him more.”

“Argh! You are just a simp! S-I-M-P!” Furina spat, though not with venom, and punched his meaty arm with all her strength. Though, considering that even her swordsmanship was more of theatrical swordplay and her exercise consisted of dancing, it wasn’t much.

Neuvillette held his breath as he watched Wriothesley react to that powerless punch. The Duke only laughed and shrugged it off, much like how people would react to playful pinching or kicking or hair-pulling or even punching. He even immediately offered to teach her how to box more properly so she could land a punch that actually hurt him. Oftentimes, Neuvillette thought, it was a sign of closeness and trust, knowing that the other would not use so much force to hurt them. And it is never a sign of hate, although one can disguise it. Still, he could plainly see that when Wriothesley reacted not with annoyance but with fondness, there was nothing suggesting hatred.

“Have you two met before?” Neuvillette asked.

“Oh yeah,” Wriothesley replied, “I met her one time while she was buying tea.”

“And what exquisite recommendations the esteemed warden freely shared with me!” Furina said, and then hastily added, “Though I prefer coffee nowadays.”

“I give you half my tea collection and you like coffee more? Heartbreaking. I should dive back into Méropide and cry about it in my bedroom.”

“Dear Wriothesley, I must remind you, there isn’t any instant tea in the world!”

Wriothesley chuckled. “Still makes no sense. Tea is the best. But do tell me whenever you want to meet up for tea or even coffee. I’m sure you and I can work out a schedule.”

“I can bring the cake! Or, or, or!” She started pulling at the man’s sleeve again. “We can bake together! I just learned how to make red velvet cupcakes with cheese. You should try it!”

Wriothesley and Furina, baking together. Perplexing. So, after all, Wriothesley didn’t hate Furina at all. Perhaps because he realized Furina had been human all along.

“Neuvillette!” Furina bounded up to him, now pulling at his cowl. When she’d done it before during her reign as Archon, he’d been indignant, but now, he was ecstatic that she would dare vex him again. “Come with us! And little Pahsiv too can bake with us!”

“Nuwinett, question,” Pahsiv said, curious in her tone, “bake?”

“It is a method of cooking,” Neuvillette explained, his mind coming up with ways to explain the process in simple terms. “Humans often make dough out of many things like flour and sugar. They put the dough in the vicinity of a fire and wait.”

Pahsiv grimaced. “Fire, hurt, scary.”

“Aw,” Furina cooed, “but don’t worry. I can heal your boo-boos.” And with a flourish of her arm, she conjured a Hydro construct of a smiling Oceanid embracing a heart of pearl; her Singer of Many Waters.

“Ah!” Pahsiv exclaimed, now jumping off of Neuvillette’s grasp and approached the Singer, arms up and paw poking at its watery body, causing it to bounce. “Pretty!”

“Isn’t she?! I also have my Salon Members, do you want to play with them?”

“Pahsiv!”

Three more Hydro constructs emerged from the sea, and Pahsiv squealed in delight. Furina followed behind her, pushing her talents to the limit just to entertain her. Once they stepped back onto the water, Wriothesley turned to him first with a raised brow.

"That Pahsiv. She's no Melusine, yes?"

Wriothesley was always observant, always sharp, always blunt. The qualities of a man he found he liked very much. "I trust you could keep a secret."

"Neuvillette. Of course."

"Then, yes. She is not at all a Melusine. She has taken the shape of one. I taught her about them when she was born sixteen years ago, and took a liking to them."

"Sixteen years old. Wow. This whole time you had a secret not-Melusine daughter running around in Erinnyes."

"Tease me again about that tabloid article about me and my 'daughters' and I may douse you."

It was a test, Neuvillette reasoned to himself. Jests like these were common between close friends, and what is a courtship and a romance if not a different kind of close friendship? If Wriothesley could take Furina's joking punches and not hate her, perhaps he no longer hated him, too?

"You do treat them as if you were their father. You carried Pahsiv up like a baby!"

Oh, so Wriothesley took that positively. It made his heart flutter in his chest.

“Wriothesley, I wish to ask you something, too," he said, though his words came out a little more somber than he intended.

“Hm? Anything wrong?"

“Do you not dislike Furina?”

“Dislike?” His brows, initially shooting up in surprise, furrowed in deep thought. “Nope, not at all. You even told me just after the Great Deluge that although she never had been the Hydro Archon, she was fulfilling her duty as requested by the real one. She kept up an eternal performance just to save all of us, so I admire her. Tenacious people like that are rare.”

So that meant he no longer harbored hatred for her.

“Agreed. Rare, indeed, to find humans as strong as her.”

“Yeah,” he said, before the conversation petered away into a comfortable silence. 

The two of them watched from afar as Pahsiv and Furina played their games atop the water’s surface. Neuvillette put his cane before him and regarded the unlikely pair and thought about how the rest of his vishap subjects would react to such a friendly and bubbly human like Furina. Pahsiv was already playing with her, and as Pahsiv was considered a baby, they might warm up very quickly to Furina. Standing there he hoped that the rest of humanity would follow Furina’s example, not just in her endless solo of sacrifice but also in her readiness to accept all forms of life. 

The conflict between the dragons and the humans must stop one day to unite against the corruptive forces of the Abyss and beyond the planet, and Fontaine had already shown him that it could be possible with the Fontainians’ gradual acceptance of the Melusines. And, now, looking at the human man beside him, it could even be possible that love could blossom between the two races. As he studied his face, he etched into memory the colors of his eyes, how the breeze tousled his graying hair, the angle of his jaw, the scars on his face and on his neck, and the content smile curling his lips.

(How does it feel like to indulge in a kiss, like humans do?)

Neuvillette caught himself licking his own lips.

“A couple weeks after the Great Deluge,” Wriothesley started again, breaking Neuvillette out of his trance, “I saw Furina at the tea shop looking downcast that day. It was barely a month after her abdication. You know me, I always believe in second chances for everyone, so I approached her and befriended her. Goodness knows she really needed some that time.”

“I do regret that I could not support her enough at that time.”

“Honestly, me too. There wasn’t much I could do. We were never friends before. But it’s nice seeing her in her element, pun unintended–” he gestured vaguely towards the sea, “–and doing really great as a stage and film director.”

“She’d always found ways to persevere. She was strong and remains strong.”

“The strongest of all of us in Fontaine, but Neuvillette, even stones get broken by water."

“Yes,” he then somberly echoed, “Even boulders may be eroded by whirlpools.”

“So, I want to ask you to take care of her.”

Neuvillette blinked in confusion. “I already am. She will never want for anything for the rest of her mortal life. I keep watch over her needs. I assure you, I will take care of her.”

Instead of what he expected, Wriothesley just laughed. "It’s actually just because I needed to be in the Court two hours ago. Sorry to cut this short.”

“Oh,” Neuvillette dumbly responded, his shoulders drooping. “It is alright.”

“I promised Sigewinne to buy her bubble tea today. I really love you and love spending time with you, but if I want to be milkshake-free tomorrow, I have to be back by nightfall."

(You love me? I love you too.)

"Hardly the healthiest drink," was what Neuvillette chose to say.

"She's just trying to figure out how to integrate her milkshakes to my tastes, even though her stuff always tastes like the apocalypse distilled into a glass." He suddenly backpedalled, saying, "Not to insult your daughter, no, but I really can't stomach the thing no matter how I try."

"None taken, but I shall issue a final warning before I pour Hydro on you."

"I'll be sure to bring a towel next time. But before I go, let me do something so you’re not too upset you can’t see little old me more."

His heart jumped into his throat when Wriothesley took his hand in his and lifted it up to his lips. Though his hand was gloved, he could feel the warmth of his lips on the backs of his knuckles and the tickle of his breath when he exhaled. It sent a zing of lightning through his arm and to his spine, dissipating in his entire body. Pink light was undoubtedly assaulting the sight of anyone in the area who so happened to look in their direction. Even though this was the second time he kissed his hand, now knowing the emotion behind it resulted in a different experience.

“I knew it. Rainbow roses suit you much better,” Wriothesley said, winking.

“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette reprimanded without any bark to it.

“You’re gorgeous,” he replied, as if that had anything to do with apologizing for his insolence. He looked at the crown on his head and straightened it up gently, smoothing his hair away from his face. "Iudex Neuvillette, de facto ruler of this land, would you smite me if I said I really want to kiss you?"

(No, no smiting. Kiss me, yes, kiss me–)

"Kiss me, yes, kiss me," Neuvillette said, and before he could even think to panic about letting his mouth say exactly what was on his mind and about never having kissed before, Wriothesley already cupped his face with both hands, pulled his head down a little, and closed the distance between them.

It lasted for barely a moment, but it was like being splashed with pure and cool springwater, like being submerged in a placid pool, yet it was also like being hit with the full force of a tidal wave, like drowning in a maelstrom. The feeling of his Authority finally being returned to him and every single droplet of water connecting to his senses could not compare to this sheer joy. It was beautiful, utter helplessness.

The crown on his head toppled off his head and was only cushioned by Neuvillette catching it in a bubble before making contact with the sandy ground. Though he managed to save the gift from shattering, indignation welled up in him in that he realized he was still not fully into the kiss. To block out the rest of the world, he snaked his arms around the other’s neck and head and licked the other’s lips. The resulting whimper from and the tightening embrace made Neuvillette grin into the kiss.

When Wriothesley pulled away to breathe, Neuvillette tried to chase him for a second, and maybe a third, but he was stopped by a shaky hand on his shoulder.

“You would dare stop me,” Neuvillette weakly growled, “you would dare prevent me from getting what I want.”

“I dare.”

He kissed the smirk off of this brazen human’s mouth. Two kisses became three, then four, then sixteen, with laughter dividing their kisses. Eventually they settled on pressing their bodies together, arms around each other and their foreheads resting against each other.

"Anyways, I really should go if I want to return to the Fortress as soon as possible,” Wriothesley breathed out as he gently pulled himself away, though even with the distance between them, he still left one of his hands grasping one of Neuvillette’s. “I will see you soon."

"'Til our next meeting, Wriothesley. Write me a letter like usual when you get back."

(Please come back.)

He watched the man remove his hand, go past him and away, enter the Court of Fontaine, and it was only when Pahsiv called his name did he dare tear his attention away from his lingering presence.

—

A little over a week later, a waterlogged package addressed to Neuvillette arrived at his desk. It occupied a significant amount of space on his desk. His name on the water-damaged paper stuck on the side was actually written as ‘Ivcwncllc’, a fundamental misunderstanding of the Fontainian letters that spelled his name, and the only way the Melusines were able to figure out it was intended for him was because they’d spotted several vishaps swimming in the vicinity, as if agitated, but not attacking at all.

Thank goodness for the Melusines’ knowledge of his secret and their willingness to help him keep it hidden.

Without further ado, he opened it and peeked in. Nestled upon haphazardly tied seaweed were numerous shiny pearls of different sizes and colors, mostly black and gray in color, and so he almost had what humans colloquially called a heart attack.

Like humans, vishaps and dragons often gifted their loved ones beautiful trinkets and sometimes such things could be presented as a courting gift depending on the tastes of the recipient. Their having scoured the sea for pearls and gifting them to him must have been their way of helping him look for a courting gift that he could present to Wriothesley.

Goodness, Pahsiv and Furina must have seen them kiss quite publicly the other day. Embarrassing.

May the other Sovereigns poke thorns into his nonexistent tail and call his human incarnation the Cactus Dragon until his next life in the next forever.

Though, honestly, over everything, he had no idea how to react to the idea of his vishap subjects basically telling him through the human mail system to court the man already.

—

His next meeting with Wriothesley came soon afterwards, though 'soon' was subjective to Neuvillette. This time, it was once again outside of the Court and also of the Fortress, but Neuvillette did not approach immediately.

As much as he couldn’t fully understand others owing to a solitary and lonesome life even before his less than well-received entrance in Fontaine, he could quite clearly see from the hunched body just by the shore that the Duke was either mulling something over so deeply or he was sad. If he was sad, Neuvillette wouldn’t know what to do, and the only thing he’d be able to do perfectly is say nothing and do nothing. What had worked more than two decades ago, when the warden was just a newly-condemned murderer at seventeen years old, would likely not work now. From his spot by the trees he could see that there were no tears to wipe and no helplessness to protect, yet his heart ached seeing him alone.

They’d already established a close personal relationship and also had spoken about their troubles to each other. Perhaps he could help again this time.

“Neuvillette,” Wriothesley spoke in a soft voice when he sat down beside him and rested his cane on the sand. “You’re here.”

“I am here,” Neuvillette replied, though mostly out of not knowing what to say. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” He looked back out to the sea and sighed. “I’m fine. I just needed to clear my head, but I think my mood got worse after going up. But if I go back down, I don’t think it’ll help too.”

“May I then be of assistance?”

Wriothesley sighed, and though he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Have you already seen the radical proposition I sent you a while ago?”

By radical proposition he meant a certain personal letter. Often in these letters they’d rarely mix in business, only ever writing about little mundane things and their interests that Neuvillette supposed friends usually do. In that one, though, Wriothesley thought to close his five-page letter with a semi-serious pondering on whether the Fortress of Méropide should no longer be only underwater; that there should be an extension located on the surface.

“Are you troubled about it? I assure you, though I haven’t had the time to pen a reply, it has not offended me, if that is what bothers you.”

“Ah, well, that’s not really it, but it’s related to that. Remember the Beret Society I dealt with just after the Great Deluge?”

Neuvillette nodded. In fact, he’d just received a report that Dougier, though his sentence just elapsed, was brought to a holding cell and awaiting trial for his crimes in the Fortress. Once again, Dougier would face his Court, but now, Neuvillette had absolute sway over his punishment.

“It’s horrible. I can’t even say the conditions of some of the victims have improved much. Their therapy is five steps forward, six back. Sometimes you think they’re making progress, but something sets them off and they shut down for days.” He sank his face into his palms, then he pulled at his hair. “I think the Fortress is the whole reason they’re not recovering. It was where they were incarcerated and subsequently entrapped. I can’t get them out of there, so I am extending their suffering. I am a reminder of their special hell. And now that I’m here, I realize I’m enjoying a privilege that they should deserve, and it is absolutely fucking me in the head.”

Neuvillette turned this over and over in his head. Mentally, he reviewed every single line of the penal codex as well as law pertaining to amnesty and parole. He came up nigh-promptly with a possible solution to the problem and said, “Given the wording of the law, there is nothing that says all the guilty must be in the Fortress of Méropide.”

Wriothesley perked up immediately, eyes wide. “What?”

“In ancient Fontaine, the guilty used to be thrown out of greater society, and after Egeria took pity on them, they instead became the Watchers of the Primordial Sea in order to repent. Over time it only became a matter of social conditioning to send all the guilty to the Fortress as a punishment. Legally speaking, the guilty are to be cast away for a period of time, but never was it stated that it has to be Méropide. Since your ancestors never had the foresight to actually write this upon the law, you should take advantage of it.”

“How? The holding cells you have here in the overworld aren’t ‘prisons’.”

“Send your inmates to a psychiatric facility here on the surface. I know of one just southeast of Erinnyes Forest and near Lumidouce Harbor. I’m sure fresh air and being surrounded by nature would help them and you.”

The warden, earlier despondent, now looked elated beyond words. “I– wow, Neuvillette. And here I was moping about it all, and the solution was right there under my nose.”

“I would be very glad to do everything in my power to help you help them.” Already flashing in his mind were the forms and paperwork and orders he’d have to decree to ensure the safety of the affected inmates. And perhaps, if only out of a wish to indulge Wriothesley, he could also find a way to charge the leader of the cult in such a way that would net him a long sentence, without parole no less, that he would die in the Fortress, surrounded by people that would surely despise him, unless he were to miraculously be cursed with immortality. Well, if he were immortal, he’d have to spend the rest of forever cowering under Neuvillette’s crushing condemnation.

“You know, Neuvillette,” Wriothesley said, a dreamy smile plastered on his face, “it’s always you who gives me my hope back.”

(I give your hope back?)

“That brings me much joy, knowing that,” he said softly, a little smile on his face. He could already feel the tips of his rhinophores twitch in joy. “I also hope I do not bring you despair.”

“You don’t at all,” he answered, stopping any other doubtful thought from taking shape in his mind. “You never did.”

(Truly? )

“Truly?”

"Yes, you don’t." Wriothesley took one of his hands again and brought it to his lips. “The thought of you brings me joy.”

"You do not hate me," he said, less as a question and more as a realization. A wide smile, a kind of smile he was not used to, curled his lips.

"No,” he said, tucking his hair behind his ear again. “I don't hate you. I’ve never hated you. I love you so much, you have no idea."

—

Neuvillette took some time off later to dive into the sea.

The first rays of the sun were already peeking over the eastern horizon by the time he surfaced, a little trinket tucked safely in his pocket, though he wouldn’t take his hand out of it until he arrived home. Even though the little thing was encased in several layers of ultracondensed Hydro powerful enough to cause horrendous maelstroms that could sink massive arks much larger than Wriothesley’s Wingalet if only a single drop landed on the sea, Neuvillette took extreme care to carry it from the sea to his bedroom. He then spent nights after work focusing on crafting the most perfect trinket for his beloved human.

(I accept your courting. I accept it, I accept it I return it I return it–)

—

As the new authority of Fontaine, Neuvillette worked day and night working on reforms he’d never had the chance to as one second to the Hydro Archon. Lately, he’d begun assigning some of his former work to others, but even the process of offloading his duties to others somehow became more of a burden because of Fontaine’s rules demanding paperwork upon paperwork upon paperwork. Ironic, considering that he was trying to streamline the bureaucratic process. Despite being more than a god, the work was wearing on him.

He tried not to think about how the Morax had successfully retired by fooling the world about his death and stamped down all furious envy.

But now, new courthouses were successfully built and only needed to be furnished in the next two months before more junior justices can preside over smaller cases. Researchers were hard at work coming up with methods of harvesting the natural power of water without causing so much ecological damage. Now, many humans were on board with his visions and were trying so hard to help him achieve it. Very soon he would no longer have to take on so much that his current incarnation would expire at just over a dozen centuries of life. One day, he might even enjoy a life where he could choose to be at ease with the human side of his duties while he took care of supernatural issues. One day, he might even try returning to his true dragon form, even for a night, just to frolic in the sea. One day, he might take a yearlong leave and invite Wriothesley to a vacation around the world, just the two of them.

One day.

Today was unfortunately not that day. 

The height of summer was bearing down on him and though he was sufficiently hydrated and his office cooled as much as possible, the heat of the sun still seeped in and awakened the ancient memory of the searing weight that had crushed his predecessor’s bones. For the entire day he was only able to finish the easiest tasks. The final thing he did was to quietly inform Sédène he was taking a weeklong sick leave before locking his office and exiting the Palais. So exhausted was he that he could not even find the vigor to blink himself from his office to his bed. He needed to lean more into his cane as he trudged home, lest the final moments of his previous life haunt him and manifest in incomprehensible pain and a torrential downpour uncharacteristic of summer.

Somehow, the distance between his desk and his bedroom was so great that before he even reached the midway point, his left hip and leg spasmed, forcing him to stop by a bench and sit to ride out the waves of pain. He felt as if his entire body were engulfed in an inextinguishable flame. His hands gripped the head of his cane so hard that a part of him feared he could break it into little splinters and cause himself to get stranded on this bench until someone found him. Breathing in and out he tried to focus and empty his mind and gather enough energy to reach his destination. Thankfully it was already late at night and the avenue was devoid of people, because otherwise someone might have heard a pathetic whine that he could not suppress any longer.

“Whoa, it really looks like you’re not okay,” someone in front of him said.

Perhaps the avenue was not empty as he thought. Neuvillette blearily opened his eyes and looked up. “Oh… it’s you.”

Better this one than anyone else, not even the Melusines. His heart would break if he’d caused his sweet Melusines panic.

Wriothesley put down the bag of tea tins in his hand, knelt in front of him, and placed his hands on top of his. Neuvillette was sure Wriothesley could feel the tremble of his fingers. Blue eyes softened as he asked, “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen your, uh, horns, wait, rhinophores glow black before.”

“My ancient injuries are giving me grief,” he murmured. “I cannot walk like I usually can with my cane.”

“Need me to help?”

“Yes,” Neuvillette answered without hesitation. “I need your help.”

“Okay, hold on to me, and let’s get you home.”

Though Neuvillette was a bit taller, the Duke held him like a stalwart pillar. For each time Neuvillette needed to step on his right foot, Wriothesley allowed him to lean almost all his weight onto his shoulders, not once buckling. Whenever he found his body failing him, he was there to catch him and right him upwards with gentle words.

Warmth was never Neuvillette’s preference, in fact, the heat was detrimental to his health. Summertime was his weakness. Despite this, the heat radiating off Wriothesley’s bulky body was surprisingly pleasant. And with their bodies so close to one another, Neuvillette could smell the other’s scent—there was a hint of cedarwood in his perfume that was almost drowned out by the scent of aged pu’erh. Were he not in public, he would ask to drape himself on the Duke’s back to drown in more warmth and implore him to carry him to his home and tuck him into bed. So entranced was he by the Duke that walking home had felt less like an eternal ordeal and more like a stroll by a river.

His cane was already hung on the wall and he was already sitting on his bed by the time Neuvillette deigned to think about anything other than Wriothesley’s body against his own. 

“Would you like me to help you get ready to…, uh,” he paused all of a sudden, and Neuvillette could only let his rhinophores glow bright pink again at the unsaid request. Neuvillette had not yet given an answer to his courting, and now he was asking whether he needed help undressing. 

Though it was not a horrible idea, he reasoned. Wriothesley was a trusted man, and he truly would appreciate the help. “I do need some assistance taking my spats and shoes off. Contorting and moving my body when I am in pain always proves to not be worth the effort.”

“Leave it all to me,” he declared, dropping to his knees to unbutton his spats and untie his shoes. Later he even helped remove most of his judge’s robes, leaving him in only his blouse and pants, and left the room when Neuvillette changed into his light nightclothes. 

Wriothesley returned later with a basin of water and a towel, and when Neuvillette raised a brow, he shrugged and answered, “I figured you might want to wash your face a little before turning in tonight.”

“Is the water cold?”

“Lukewarm. I’ll cool it for you,” he said, before blowing into the water. One the water’s surface formed some frost, as if his breath was the freezing winds of Snezhnaya. He dipped the towel into the cold water, hissing as his undoubtedly warm fingers made contact with it. “I can wipe your face for you.”

“Thank you.”

Closing his eyes, he let his beloved human take a seat beside him and carefully wipe his face and neck with soothing cold water. Eventually he even let him towel his arms and legs. In the privacy of his mind he swooned at his heartfelt acts of service, that even if the mere damp towel couldn’t completely banish the ache, Wriothesley still serviced him as much as he could. Like he would give everything in the world to relieve even just a minor annoyance.

This was the essence of love, he realized. And now, all he wanted was to service him back, too, to give everything in his world in return.

“Your hair thingies aren’t black anymore. That’s good. Anything else I could do for you?”

And here he was, asking for more things to do. Perhaps it would be alright to request something else. “The cold is soothing for me. Is it possible to frost over my left leg?”

“Piece of cake,” he muttered. His hands ghosting over his clothed hip and leg, tiny amounts of Cryo flowed from his fingertips. Neuvillette sighed in relief as the burning fire in his leg was calmed and contained by the paper-thin layer of frost over his leg. Though it still smouldered and its embers may never fade away in his long life, the chill tamped it down until it felt as if he could go and sleep this night without fits or nightmares of his predecessor’s violent pain.

“Thank you, Wriothesley,” he murmured quietly as if drowsy.

“You’re most welcome,” was the answer. “Let’s get you tucked in so you can go and rest before starting tomorrow’s work.”

“Would it delight you to know I have the week off?” Neuvillette asked as Wriothesley unfolded the blanket by Neuvillette’s feet.

There was a beat before he replied, “I am most certainly delighted. Truth be told, the moment I saw you suffering quietly on that bench, I’d already intended to force you to one.”

“You’ve always been telling me to take a break. As such, I have taken your words to heart.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” One of his hands lifted to cup Neuvillette’s face. “I’d hate to see you collapse from your work, but if I’m free, I’ll be here with you like tonight.”

Affection and elation swelled and overflowed from within Neuvillette’s heart, prompting him to surge forwards and claim the duke’s lips in a chaste and transient kiss. The room was bathed in a soft blue light when he opened his eyes again.

“I love you very much,” he confessed, his hands’ grip tightening around his beloved’s palms and his head falling upon Wriothesley’s shoulder. “I love you with an intensity of feeling that I do not think I’ve encountered before in my life. A deluge even I can’t overcome. Something of a degree previously unimaginable to me that I want to bare to you my greatest secret.”

Wriothesley chuckled into his hair, his fingers combing through the snow white locks. "And what would that be, love?"

This was it. Now he must unveil his true identity to the man he had been trusting for years and now even loved. Neuvillette felt his chest tighten, and for the first time since he’d regained his Authority over Hydro did he feel true irrational fear. Wriothesley would never hurt him, would never do anything to shatter his heart, yet bearing one’s deepest thoughts to another was never easy.

Better to jump into scalding water now.

"I am the Hydro Dragon in your human legends,” Neuvillette blurted out, hiding his face in the crook of his beloved’s throat.

Perplexingly, Wriothesley only hummed and shrugged it off, as if it were something of no consequence to him. He kissed the top of his head and said, “You’re the Hydro Dragon and the sky is blue.”

Neuvillette lifted his head off his shoulder. He didn’t need to say a word for Wriothesley to understand his confusion.

"I already knew about you being the Hydro Dragon. Was that all?"

“How did you know?”

“You told me,” Wriothesley cut in, curling his body, tucking his head on Neuvillette’s shoulder, and clutching at his vest. The motion felt familiar. He embraced him back, his hands resting on the middle of his spine and on the back of his head. “After convicting me, I was crying when you suddenly hugged me and said to me something like, ‘I'm sorry that the Hydro Dragon couldn't save you when you needed him and can't save you now, so let him comfort you’. Remember?”

Of course. Yes, he had said that. How dare he forget? “So I did. But I thought you’d forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget, actuallly. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for years. That’s why I had the Traveller call for you when the sluice gate containing the Primordial Sea started failing. You’re the only one I know who could do it. The almighty Hydro Dragon that could stop a tidal wave.”

Him . Not Furina, who at the time everyone believed was the ultimate power over Hydro. “When you teased me about my secret, you meant this.”

Wriothesley smirked. “Yes. I called for you, the Hydro Dragon. As a kid I fell asleep to stories about how powerful you are and how every single drop of water on this world is your domain. If I hadn’t believed you the time you plainly said you were the Hydro Dragon, I should’ve already figured it out by the time you pushed the Primordial Sea back and came back up like you’d just wrangled a fussy cat."

Only Wriothesley would dare to compare the roaring Primordial Sea, once thought to be threatening the children of Fontaine, to a fussy cat. A single fussy cat would hardly pose an existential threat. Neuvillette chuckled lightly at that.

"Do you have any idea how much I am in debt to you for giving me even the tiniest sliver of hope and inspiration, when all I'd planned at the time was to rot and die in the Fortress of Méropide?"

He could not reply, only shake his head.

“And those many, many other times we talked about our problems to each other?”

Another shake.

"There hadn't been any reason for you to comfort me like you did, or to advise me, but you still did it, and it restored my faith in myself. Neuvillette, love, for more than half of my entire life, you were my guiding lodestar.” He leaned forward again to kiss him. “When I became Administrator, I wanted to follow your footsteps and serve justice, too, until I caught feelings the day I saw you outside in the rain, letting the sky cry for you.”

Nothing but sincerity was in Wriothesley’s eyes, and with his secret out and all doubt eliminated, all Neuvillette could do was laugh. “Oh, Wriothesley, all these years I’d thought you hated me. You said you hated me after your trial.”

“Sorry, love. It’s my fault. But in my defense, Your Honor Iudex Neuvillette, I was having a mental breakdown.”

“So it was,” he said. Wriothesley was just a child when he’d realized the extreme peril he’d been in, when he’d run away to plot the downfall of his parents, when he’d committed two murders, and when he’d been condemned to the Fortress of Méropide. Crying would be a suitable reaction.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said. “I’ll do anything to earn your trust again after accidentally making you think I hated you but no, I’d admired you then I’d fallen in love with you.”

Smiling, Neuvillette then said, “Apologize to me by opening my vanity drawer and finding a gift I worked tirelessly on. You will find a red box.”

“That’s easy peasy,” he chuckled, moving away to turn and open said vanity drawer. “There’s no box, only a ton of pearls–wait, false bottom.” He carefully pried the separator and fished out the box. “What’s next?”

“For some time I’ve realized that you have sent me many gifts, yet I have not given you any, despite my returned affections. Inside is a courting gift I fashioned by hand for you. Then come sit beside me again.”

Obediently, Wriothesley opened the box and pulled out a silver chain. It had for a pendant a tiny black shell just a tad smaller than his thumbnail. He returned to his place beside Neuvillette and presented the necklace.

“Like humans, vishaps and dragons would forage and mine for trinkets to gift to their loved ones,” he explained, pointing a finger at the pendant. “As for me, I would like to give you a piece of my heart nestled within this shell like what you humans do with lockets.” As he spoke, the shell glowed the cerulean blue of Hydro for a moment, lighting the room in its glow.

“Wow,” Wriothesley said breathlessly, “your eyes are glowing too.” He looked down again at the locket and clutched it in his palm. “I’m holding your heart in my hands.”

“Yes. So I request that you care for it as if it were me, too.”

“Of course, love.” He nuzzled his nose against the other’s before kissing him again. “Goodness, you don’t know how much I love you right now.”

“Show me how much you love me by staying the night and sleeping with me.”

"How bold!" Wriothesley joked, and then, quite sheepishly, “You’d have to let me borrow some of your clothes. My usual would be too uncomfortable.”

“Help yourself to my armoire, then.”

Neuvillette settled under the sheets, smoothing his own hair up away from his face and resting his head on the pillow. Eyeing Wriothesley, who was now changing into his borrowed nightclothes, he lifted the blanket and patted the empty space before him. Wriothesley slid in wordlessly and sighed when his head landed on the soft pillow.

“Also sleepy?” Neuvillette asked, carefully putting the blanket over his lover and tucking him in.

“Mm,” Wriothesley hummed as a reply, his eyes fluttering shut. The shell locket around his neck glimmered in the faint light emanating from the moonlight behind the curtains.

"I have one more secret to reveal to you, so don’t sleep yet."

"Mm?"

"That is the matter of my true name. The one that isn't 'Neuvillette'."

He snickered, finally opening his eyes again to look at Neuvillette. Drowsiness was already glazing his eyes. "Two secrets in one night. Record-breaking."

"The first hardly was a secret, given you knew about me this entire time."

"Okay, okay, I concede. I don't think I know your true name, though."

“Come closer, my beloved Wriothesley, and hear the name that no other human would know to call me.”

Wriothesley inched his head closer. Though jostling his body sent twinges of pain all throughout his body, Neuvillette leaned in further to whisper it into his ear, a quiet murmur like the rush of a brook meant only for the latter to hear.

“Say my true name,” Neuvillette pleaded. 

Wriothesley smiled sweetly and turned his head, and when his true name rolled out of his mouth a moment later in a low and sweet voice, the Hydro Dragon could not help but purr in pure delight. Buried under the cover of the blanket, Neuvillette pushed past the pain as if he already forgot his previous life's horrible death and tangled his arms and legs around Wriothesley. The weight of someone wrapping around him and the calming sound of a happy dragon’s purring made Wriothesley’s eyelids heavier and heavier until he eventually entered slumber, the Hydro Dragon’s name and professions of love on his lips.

Once upon a time, in the cold and dark cave he’d designated his personal quarters, he’d been alone. He’d rocked himself to sleep, his heart filled with nothing but dread and anxiety. No one of his kind would come to comfort him. Only his birthright as their Sovereign made them bear his existence and bow their heads. Now, he was in a dark room, his body pressed against a warm furnace named Wriothesley. The vishaps had even come to the world of humans and they had even proved to have no issues befriending humans. Some of them even crafted a crown for him to symbolize his reforging of and returning to his throne.

Visiting the human world and becoming Fontaine’s Iudex had not been a mistake, no. It was such a pleasure to be completely right that in observing humanity, he could understand his own self. Loving and being loved felt like the waters of a stagnant and filthy spring finally flowing, purifying itself on its way downstream. To be loved is to be changed, and to love is to understand oneself and others. Now he felt truly joyful, his body wrapped around a human lover and his previous terrors about his own existence gone, vaporized by the realization he was no longer lonely.