Archive of Our Own

Clorinde, as always, slams his door open with no finesse nor subtlety when she enters Wriothesley’s office. It's not the first time, and he’s sure it won't be the last—

But, well.

“Ah, Miss Clorinde.” Wriothesley sighs. “My door. Again.”

She ignores him.

Well, he expected that. It’s nothing new for her to barge in so fearlessly where even fools feared rushing in. “Alright, fine,” he concedes, resting his chin against his steepled fingers. “Next time you abuse my door, though? You’re buying me tea. So.” He smiles politely. “What can I do for you today?”

With all the grace that she’d opened his door with (which is to say, none), she says,

"Your Grace, I have bad news."

He finishes off his cup of tea. Shameful as it is to not savor the taste, it's much better to finish it off while it’s warm instead of leaving it to cool while he deals with whatever this new problem is.

He stands up, dusts his gloves off, and nods. "Alright, what is it this time?”

A new source of Primordial Seawater found by Sinthe dealers? An escaped inmate? Sigewinne poisoning someone again with well-meaning meals and more rumors circling beyond the usual gossip of cannibalism?

"The Chief Justice…"

He freezes. For an imperceptible second, in that blip of time as Clorinde glances down at his tea cup, he feels his entire body pausing where it stood behind his desk.

Then he breathes.

This is Neuvillette he's talking about. A Sovereign Dragon with more centuries on his belt than Wriothesley can even begin to count, and strong enough to single-handedly hold back the Primordial Sea after it broke through the sluice gates.

"…has been compromised by a ley line disorder. He's healthy physically, based on recent observation, but…"

The silence that lingers as Clorinde pauses is pregnant enough to have Wriothesley feel its weight with every fiber of his being.

He sighs, rubbing at his forehead. Trust Clorinde to tiptoe around him because of his relationship with the man. If only she’d hesitate the same way in opening his office doors, but oh well.

Tone dry, he says, "The suspense is killing me here, Clorinde. Mind just giving it to me straight?"

She clears her throat. "To put it bluntly, the Chief Justice seems to have a case of memory loss. They've yet to conclude if it's temporary or not, but I wanted to give you a warning."

Given your status as his lover, she doesn't say aloud.

"Oh." He breathes out a heavy sigh, dropping back into his chair and closing his eyes with…what? Relief that his lover is not dead, just temporarily inconvenienced? Dismay? Disbelief?

Sure, it’s concerning that Neuvillette could be affected by a ley line disorder so easily what with his status as the Hydro Sovereign, but he’s not dead. And seeing as Clorinde looks more concerned for him than harried and in need of assistance, he can only surmise that Neuvillette hasn’t lost enough of his memory to be a, hm, “temporary inconvenience” to the overworld.

Thinking so, he says, "Seeing as you look more nervous for me than for Fontaine as a whole…”

He opens his eyes, smiling at Clorinde in bemusement. "Would it be correct to assume that he's not, well, acting out-of-character? Not rampaging—" like the dragon he is, "—or causing a fuss up on the surface?"

She squints her eyes at him. "No. Are you not the least bit concerned that he might have forgotten you?"

He gives a shrug. "A life lost can never be returned, but a few memories lost can just be remade anew. So long as he's healthy, then it's not as big of a deal as you made it out to be. Unless there's something else you're not telling me..?"

"…he's only forgotten you, Your Grace."

He accidentally knocks his knuckles with a thunk against his desk.

"Huh?"

This brings him to here and now, where he's been kindly(?) dragged up to the surface by Sigewinne, with Clorinde holding up the fort in the underground.

He hadn’t even been given the time to process the issue at hand. He can certainly handle a crisis faster than the average man, perhaps, but is that really enough of a reason for him to be immediately thrown to the metaphorical wolves—or, well, dragon —instead of allowing him to get his bearings first?

"I'm sure he'll be fine in no time, Your Grace!" Sigewinne assures him, her little hand clutching onto his fingers as she leads him to the door of Neuvillette's bedroom.

This mischievous Melusine, for all that she looks cute, must have figured that it would be better to throw him at the problem instead of letting him stew in the possible consequences of Neuvillette’s condition. He can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not that she’s still studying the psychology of humans…

Anyway.

He supposes it’s lucky that Sigewinne has the authority to order where the Iudex may be allowed to recover. Had it been otherwise, they wouldn’t have the privacy they do now to be able to visit him. It’s one thing for the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide to make business visits to the Palais Mermonia—but to personally visit a vulnerable Chief Justice, when he insists on maintaining impartiality?

Sigewinne clears her throat. “Ahem!”

He looks over at her, cocking a brow in question. “Hm?”

“Monsieur Neuvillette is recuperating in his home because he doesn’t have any physical issues that can be dealt with using medicine, or by having human doctors see to him,” she tells him. “It’s not because we’re trying to keep you a secret, Your Grace.”

He blinks.

Then—

“Wow,” he laughs, a little out of breath with his disbelief. “I thought you were studying psychology, but are you actually doing research on telepathy?”

“So I was right!”

He pats her on the head with a gloved hand, then moves that same hand to the doorknob leading to Neuvillette’s room. She gives him a look like he’s a stubborn child (and he probably is, from her perspective), but doesn’t stop him when he opens the door in lieu of replying to her.

Click.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he says, donning a smile as he waits for Sigewinne to enter before closing the door behind them both.

Neuvillette, for all that he has memory loss, does not look at all displeased or confused at Wriothesley's entrance. 

But then, Neuvillette has always been perfectly polite regardless of the identity of his guests.

“Please, it is no intrusion,” Neuvillette says, shaking his head. Stuck in bed as he is, he looks perfectly hale—not a hair out of place, nor a lash unsharpened, with a face so clear and unblemished by signs of mortality. He's dressed down to a white blouse, which may as well be the only sign that something is off.

Beyond that, he looks the same as always; it feels strange to think that there's anything wrong with him at all.

“Sigewinne,” Neuvillette says, smile soft and fond on his face as she scurries over to him. His hand is gentle as it rests on her little head, stroking her soft hair with undeniable fatherly affection.

Then he looks to Wriothesley. There is none of the usual warmth in his eyes, none of that unspoken adoration; all that’s left in those amethyst eyes is curiosity. 

A little less predictably, Neuvillette asks, “I take it this is my mate?”

Wriothesley clears his throat. What a blunt way to ask if they’re in an established relationship. “Well—”

“Yes!”

Wriothesley side-eyes Sigewinne’s enthusiastic interruption, but gives in to a nod eventually. Far be it from him to deny Sigewinne; he’s not going to make her out to be a liar now. Even if she is, on occasion. “I figured it'd be safer not to immediately open with that, but I guess the worry was unfounded,” he admits. “Yes, that's me.”

Neuvillette holds out his hand. Wriothesley, confused, looks to Sigewinne for instructions, only to see her smiling brightly and nodding her head in Neuvillette's direction.

Well then.

He goes over to the other side of Neuvillette's bed, and takes the hand held out to him. Neuvillette, in a move that would be completely out of character prior to their relationship, raises his hand to—

Sniff him?

“If you wanted to say that I need a bath, you're more than welcome to tell me instead of giving me a closer whiff,” he jokes, smiling fondly at the raised eyebrow he gets in return. “I'm a big boy, I can take it.”

“You are rather… big, as you say, but I believe it is still proportional to your age as a mortal man,” Neuvillette agrees, making Wriothesley bite back a snort of laughter. “But no, I did not “smell” you to imply anything untoward about your scent. Rather, I wanted to confirm something.”

“And? What was it that you wanted to confirm?”

Neuvillette does not immediately answer. No, more than that—he raises Wriothesley's hand to his face and starts pressing his nose and lips against his wrist as if intending to…

Oh.

Oh.

“Is it your scent?” he guesses, eyeing Neuvillette's utterly pleased expression as he starts purring, closed eyes and all, against his pulse. “You're purring like a cat, you know. It's cute, but I’d have thought you’d need a bit more convincing than this. I had a presentation prepared and everything.”

Neuvillette blinks mid-scenting. It’s adorable, how he remains exactly as he is—that is to say, with his face half-buried into Wriothesley’s arm—while speaking. “Did you?”

“Just kidding. I was prepared to make my case, but not to that extent.” He considers his words for a moment, eyeing the way Neuvillette goes back to scenting him—as if possessed by draconic instinct, completely forgetting the fact that the Neuvillette before the accidental memory loss would never be so open as to do this in front of Sigewinne.

He ends up asking, “Was your scent on me all the proof necessary to confirm our relationship status? That’s a bit anticlimactic, isn’t it?”

“No, not at all,” Neuvillette hums, nosing up the inside of his elbow as if it were completely natural. Perhaps, in a more private setting, Wriothesley could say he was used to Neuvillette scenting him like this. But Sigewinne is observing, and Neuvillette has always been careful and subtle in showing his affection…usually.

Hm. This certainly brings up a lot of questions, given his current behavior.

Neuvillette goes on to add, “Rather than my scent alone…I can also taste how you feel, and how I felt for you before the incident.”

“Huh. So all that scenting has a purpose, it would seem,” Wriothesley muses, taking a seat on the edge of Neuvillette's bed and allowing him more access to his arm. “Not like we planned for you to lose your memories, but it seems rather convenient in hindsight that you’ve scented me as often as you have.”

A pause.

He smirks, one fleeting thought lingering with his amusement. He says,

“Unless, this is all just a ruse? Surely not.” He rests his free hand against his chin, index finger tapping over his lip. “Our respectable Chief Justice would never resort to a ley line disorder for an excuse to seek out affection, would he?”

Neuvillette pauses in his scenting, pulling away from his arm with a frown. There’s no flicker of guilt on his face, though there’s certainly more confusion than before. “Pardon, am I imposing..?”

Hm, so it wasn’t a ruse. If he truly has some form of amnesia, then this could only imply that Neuvillette is just naturally affectionate. Perhaps he’d always been holding back, for Wriothesley’s sake.

He’s not sure how to feel about that.

“Oh no no, not at all.” He shakes his head. “This is rather tame in comparison to what you'd get up to before the incident.”

Neuvillette blinks. “Is that so? Then, may I ask what acts I usually partake in with you, prior to the incident with the leylines?”

He gives Sigewinne a look.

Sigewinne blinks, and smiles innocently back. Then, with no regard for his mental health whatsoever, she says, “I’m already aware of the sexually intimate acts you engage in with Monsieur Neuvillette, so there’s no need to worry! I have to make sure you’re both healthy, after all!”

Oh.

His smile falters. “I am, frankly, appalled to know that.” The words fall slowly like molasses from his mouth, heavy as they are with disbelief. He’d been surprised enough that Neuvillette could be incapacitated in some way by a ley line disorder, but to know that Sigewinne is aware of such intimate details? “Seeing as I never said anything, then I can only assume it was Neuvillette..?”

“That’s right!”

Oh, wow.

“Oh, Neuvillette, you are one lucky man,” he says, shaking his head and, consequently, the disbelief out of his system. “I would have interrogated you on this if it were any other day, but you don’t even have the memories to answer.”

“I do have memories of Sigewinne,” Neuvillette tells him. He looks so innocent about it too, you’d never expect that he’d be the type to talk about his sex life with a Melusine , of all creatures. “As she is a qualified nurse, I can only presume I told her of our activities as I trust her with our sexual and reproductive health.”

“Isn’t she like a daughter to you? Ah, who am I kidding,” Wriothesley huffs, taking his hand back from Neuvillette’s hold to rub his face. “You’re a dragon, and she’s a Melusine. I often forget that there are differences in what we believe to be conventional.”

Melusines are centuries older than him, after all. No matter how cute and innocent they appear, they are still more familiar with the grisly details of crimes than him, having lived far longer lives with jobs that brought them closer to active crimes on the surface. What was sex compared to the blood and gore of murders?

Still. He’s allowed to be discomfited at the idea of sharing such private information with someone he believes to be innocent in appearance, even if not in experience.

Neuvillette’s low voice brings him back out of his thoughts.

“Are you displeased with me..?”

He looks up, and smiles a helpless little smile when he sees draconic eyes staring sadly at him. The looming rain clouds from outside his window do nothing to hide just how dejected Neuvillette is at his reaction. “Oh, come now, don’t make those eyes,” he pleads, reaching out to cup a pale cheek. “I can’t even be mad because you don’t remember anything about me.”

Neuvillette leans into his touch, long lashes fluttering closed for a moment as he nuzzles into his palm. It’s certainly interesting, how unabashed he is in taking affection when the Neuvillette he knew before the incident always gave him a look as if to assess how open he would be to intimate gestures. Because he has knowledge of Wriothesley’s traumatic experiences? Because he’s cautious with making Wriothesley uncomfortable?

Whatever the reasons were, this Neuvillette now is, to put it succinctly, way too comfortable with being intimate with a veritable stranger.

“...is it not more worthy of anger that I’ve forgotten you?” Neuvillette says, eyes slowly opening to take him in. He makes no move to detach himself from Wriothesley’s arm, however. “You seem to be far too kind, Wriothesley.”

Wriothesley chuckles. “Kind? That’s the last thing I’d call myself, but sure, I’ll take it.” He takes his hand back, and makes a mental note of the longing that flickers through draconic eyes before fading into nothing.

To Sigewinne, he says, “Regardless of how much Neuvillette has told you, could you give us a bit of privacy? I understand that he can tell you anything, but ah…please consider my human sensibilities.”

“Right, humans can be very sensitive when talking about intimate matters,” she muses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Then, I’ll give you both your privacy! Just call me if you need anything!”

“Will do.”

Like that, she leaves them both with a cheerful wave, the light pitter-patter of feet, and a click of the door.

He watches the door for a second longer, and feels a smile tugging at his lips when he senses the burning gaze directed his way. He turns back, and allows the amusement to settle on his lips when he finds Neuvillette practically drinking him in, slit pupils making no secret of the way they take in his face, his neck, his hands, before returning up to settle their gaze on his eyes.

“To answer your question earlier,” he says, meeting that draconic gaze head-on, “we did, in fact, engage in intimate activities. And by that, I mean sex.”

“I see.” Neuvillette nods. “Yet you seem to regard my actions as being overly familiar..?”

“You have memory loss, remember? Wouldn’t it only be natural for you to feel awkward?”

“Myself? Would it not be more uncomfortable for you, Wriothesley?”

“I’m not the one dealing with a stranger, Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette tilts his head for just a fraction of an inch, like a confused pup sounding out where his voice is coming from. He says, “But you are no stranger, as you are my mate. I do not see why I should feel awkward. My mind may not recall the memories we share, but I know my scent, and I feel what this body feels.”

“Oh, is that so?” he drawls, scooting just a tiny bit closer to Neuvillette. He smiles when Neuvillette leans in instinctively, almost like a snake seeking out warmth in winter. “Then, does your body remember what your mind does not?”

Neuvillette shakes his head. Wriothesley would have taken such an honest answer as is, but Neuvillette says—

“I’m afraid I cannot be certain…I would be grateful if you would allow me to touch you, so I may once again familiarize myself with you.”

“Wow.”

He laughs. Once he thinks he’s done laughing, he laughs again, having seen the (honestly, adorable) befuddlement written all over Neuvillette’s face.

That silken voice asks, sulky, “I fail to see what is so amusing…”

“You. It’s you who’s so amusing, Neuvillette,” Wriothesley says, chuckling still as he wipes at his teary eyes. Phew, what a hoot. To think he’d be laughing this much after what happened to his partner, and not even out of sadness or despair. He explains, “Had it been anyone else, I’d think you were merely trying to seduce me.” Even if the truth is that Neuvillette truly is looking for a practical way to regain his memory—

Neuvillette frowns. “Am I not doing it correctly?”

“Oh. Oh wow,” Wriothesley says, words choked up from laughing too much. “Are we sure it’s just the memory loss that’s the problem? I don’t seem to recall my Neuvillette being so, ah, charismatic in this way.”

That naturally pallid face pales with a subtle kind of dismay, and the looming rain clouds outside his window spread out with a great darkness that has even Wriothesley taking pause. Neuvillette asks him, “Was I…not considerate of you before I lost my memory? Did I fail to remind you of how much I adore you?”

“Okay, hold up, that’s not what this is.” He puts up a hand, physically halting Neuvillette from what he knows will be a deluge of concerned questions. Here he’d thought it was bad enough that Neuvillette pre-memory loss was constantly concerned with his occasionally self-deprecating jokes; he hadn’t thought such a thing could affect even post-memory loss Neuvillette. “You were plenty affectionate, even before the memory loss. Verbal flirting wasn’t necessarily your forte, though—that kind of thing was more up my alley.”

Neuvillette does not look at all comforted by that. “I…see. You are too generous with me, Wriothesley. You seek to comfort me, when it is I who has fallen short of being the ideal mate for you. Perhaps the loss of my memory is a chance to correct my errors…”

He laughs helplessly. Since when did it become this way? He’d only corrected Neuvillette on his odd misunderstanding, but somehow, it’s become a self-flagellation session all without his permission.

“No, Neuvillette, you’ve never fallen short of anything, especially not with me,” he assures him, “You’re the best partner a man like me could ask for—if anything, you’re too good for the likes of me.”

Lightning strikes from outside Neuvillette’s window, lighting up that crestfallen face in all its ethereal glory.

Ah, damn. Not the best timing for that joke when he’s forgotten, huh?

“Wriothesley…”

“Ah, how could I forget? You’re not used to my jokes, and you have no context for what I’m like,” he says, feeling awkward with the helpless look Neuvillette is throwing his way. “I didn’t really mean that—I was just being hyperbolic, like always. You don’t have to look so sad for me, Neuvillette.”

“But you do believe it. I am no expert on humanity, and I fear I will always fall behind in understanding how mortals work…but I can feel it in my heart that you are not lying, even with your jokes. How could I ever be too good for you, when I am the one who is so clumsy with courting you properly? Even my words fail to express how eager I am to get to know you once more.”

Wriothesley digests those words. Savors them on his tongue, lets it settle heavy and warm in his stomach, and breathes.

He’s always believed Neuvillette to be the same as him when it came to perceiving the world, in that they both looked to the future and planned for contingencies—because they always saw the worst possibilities, more than anyone else. Because they’re both leaders in every sense of the word, and they both have people, an entire nation, that they wish to protect.

But, once again, Neuvillette reminds him: where Wriothesley hopes for the best and expects the worst, Neuvillette—millennia-old Neuvillette, the sole Chief Justice who has looked over Fontaine for 500 years—could still be so innocent in loving him, even without a single memory of who he is, of what he’s done.

He smiles wryly, and reaches out to take Neuvillette’s hand in his own.

“You have never once failed in loving me, I promise you,” he says. He forgoes all sense of caution and settles himself against Neuvillette’s side, letting Neuvillette’s inside arm wrap around his waist as he rests his head against his shoulder. “You’ve always done your best, more than anyone else I’ve ever known. You’ve proven me right, over and over—love should be warm, and it always is, with you.”

He closes his eyes, and breathes out a sigh.

Eventually, he confesses,

“You passed judgment on me once, when I was a child. My foster parents were selling my siblings as livestock, and no part of me could condone it—so I murdered them, using gauntlets that I would re-design and tinker with to become my weapons today, as the Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide. You, and the Oratrice, had judged me guilty. I agreed.”

The arm around him tightens. Wriothesley wonders, with some amount of masochism, if Neuvillette will finally push him away.

But he doesn’t.

Rather, he tucks Wriothesley closer into him, taking his hand away from Wriothesley’s hold to embrace him with both arms. Instead of pushing him away, he pulls him closer—not to question him, nor to restrict him, but to give comfort.

Wriothesley laughs a breathless little laugh.

How odd, that I’m the one being comforted.

“This is strange,” he teases, tone light as he uses his now-free hands to wrap them around Neuvillette’s back. “Why is our impartial Iudex hugging a criminal after being told of his past crimes?”

“...you were a child.”

“A child is not absolved of sin just because he is young.”

“You were a child,” Neuvillette insists, squeezing him tightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to ground him, remind him that he’s here, alive and well and loved. “I may not remember our past, but I am not so ignorant that I would fail to recognize that it was a sin you did not commit willingly.”

“I could have come to the Gardes.”

“And yet, you did not. The law failed you when it could not find you in time.”

“Neuvillette…”

He feels the shaky sigh that Neuvillette breathes over his shoulder, and gives him a squeezing hug in return. How was it, that he could be so lucky to be loved like this? It doesn’t matter that Neuvillette is the Iudex, that he’s the Hydro Sovereign, that he has so many centuries under his belt and more to come—

Neuvillette, the man, chose Wriothesley. Even with all his sins, and even with his mortality, he chose him.

This man who says he does not fully understand humanity, could be so kind as to look at Wriothesley’s wounded heart and treat him gently, instead of taking his callous jokes and going along with them. Instead of pandering to Wriothesley’s self-deprecation, his loving heart has always—both with his memories and without them—chosen to argue, to remind him:

You are loved. You are adored, and it is inequitable that you do not love the man I have chosen to love, Wriothesley.

Love should be warm, and isn’t it fortunate? Isn’t it so very lucky of him, that he could find someone with such endless warmth?

“It wasn’t your fault, either,” he says, rubbing Neuvillette’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “I chose to accept my sin, and I chose to atone in the Fortress. You did well in accepting my choice.”

“...”

He chuckles. “I promise you, I don’t hate myself that much. Sigewinne would have my head if I did.”

Neuvillette huffs out what seems to be a laugh. “That is a relief to know.”

“It would be a greater sin, I feel, to disregard the kindness shown to me in all my years of life.” He pulls away to face Neuvillette properly, and quietly marvels:

This cheek that he’s cupping with his scarred hand, belongs to a man who could love him even without a single memory of him. This smile being turned his way, is the smile of a man who could love him so unconditionally that the loss of his memory could be so seemingly inconsequential.

He hums, stroking a pale cheek with his calloused thumb. Remembering his earlier point, he says, “It’s just that, such jokes are already a habit at this point…”

Neuvillette frowns in dissatisfaction.

“...though I suppose that’s no excuse,” he adds, smiling with all the charm he can muster. “Forgive me?”

“My mate is a sly one,” Neuvillette murmurs. Though displeased, it’s easy to see from the frown growing faint on his face that Wriothesley’s smile has softened him up. Yup, still got it. “You must know that I cannot deny you.”

“Even without your memories?”

“I chose you for a reason. I am certain, both with or without my memories, that I would feel the same way.”

Neuvillette raises a gloved hand to place it on Wriothesley’s own. Instead of taking his hand away from his cheek, he presses the hand even closer—even turning his face to shamelessly press a kiss into his scarred palm.

Well, there goes all his worries about Neuvillette’s memory loss.

He hums thoughtfully. “Are you quite certain this wasn't all an excuse to have this discussion with me? I’m starting to doubt the veracity of the report about your memory loss…”

“I am, indeed, without memories of you,” Neuvillette assures him, lowering Wriothesley’s hand so he can kiss his knuckles. “Which, while a pity, must be an opportunity to get to know you once more. I am no vulnerable mortal, as you know, so I’m certain the ley line disorder must have been influenced by my past self’s wishes in some way.”

Wriothesley opens his mouth. Closes it. Then opens it again with a wordless “wow ”. He’d been concerned at first, aware that the ley lines fed on elemental energy to maintain its network of memories, but with Neuvillette’s honesty…

Unbelievable.

“So this is, potentially, your fault? Huh. The Chief Justice who has never sought to take a break, has connived his way into illness so he won’t deal with work and, instead, spend his time getting to know his lover again.” He shakes his head. “What has the world come to?”

“Your teasing tells me that this has been a much-needed respite for the both of us.”

Wriothesley’s eyebrows both rise up to his hairline in disbelief. “Uh-huh. Well now, I’m starting to think I’m a bad influence on you.”

“I’m quite certain that isn’t the case.”

“You’re sure about that? The Neuvillette I know has never willingly chosen to take a break.”

“I suppose that means I’ve made the choice to make a change—”

Neuvillette comes close, nuzzling his cheek against Wriothesley’s own, before descending to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Scenting him, Wriothesley’s brain supplies helpfully.

“—as I wished to spend more time with my mate.”

“Wow.”

Neuvillette teases sharp fangs against his neck, making him laugh at the ticklish sensation. “Hey now, Sigewinne is still outside. You shouldn’t start what you can’t finish.”

“I see.” Neuvillette pulls away with a sagely nod of understanding. “Then I will inform her that I am hale enough to engage in sexual activity so she may permit us full privacy.”

“Okay, first of all? Please don’t.”

Neuvillette doesn’t even have to say anything for Wriothesley to know he’s confused. Truly incredible, that the respectable, widely-admired, sole Chief Justice of Fontaine could be so blunt with something so clearly inappropriate for the average mortal. Wriothesley knew that he himself has made, and will continue to make, inappropriate jokes that deserved the Chief Justice's occasional scolding—but this? How could such candor with regard to sexual matters be any different from the indecorous nature of his own dark humor?

“I’ll talk to her, so you sit tight,” he warns, untangling himself from Neuvillette to make his way to the door. “Not everything has to be spoken aloud, alright?”

“...the words unspoken are the flower,” Neuvillette mutters. An Inazuman proverb? Even Neuvillette looks mildly confused at the words that have escaped his lips, but Wriothesley supposes that’s agreement enough.

Click.

He calls out, “Sigewinne—”

“Monsieur Neuvillette is physically healthy, so there are no concerns if you wish to engage in intimate activities!” Sigewinne interrupts, cutting him off with an angelic smile even with her questionable words. It’s as if she’d been waiting all along for him to open the door, what with how expectant she looks while standing in the hall. “That’s what you wanted to ask, yes?”

“You two truly are father and daughter.”

“Heehee!”

One would think the most stressful thing in his life at the moment is the issue with Neuvillette’s memory, but no; what’s truly stressful is having to acknowledge that Sigewinne is perfectly aware and encouraging his…sex life with Neuvillette. The support is nice and all, and Sigewinne is definitely much older than him and is his senior in the Fortress by experience, but.

She is, technically, Neuvillette’s daughter. Her occasional bouts of mischief and harmless little threats certainly did not help in putting a stop to the innocent impression Wriothesley has of her.

He rubs at his forehead. “I just wanted to let you know that you can go first— not because I intend to put the Monsieur through some vigorous exercise,” he cuts in, seeing the eager light in Sigewinne’s eyes, “but because I intend to discuss the ley line incident further.”

“Aww. You have my guarantee that it’s fine though, as the Fortress of Meropide’s Head Nurse!”

“This really isn’t something you should be giving a guarantee for in the first place. In fact…isn’t it more important to know if he can regain his memory?”

“Oh, but he can! It’s only temporary memory loss, after all,” Sigewinne explains—as if he should’ve known without ever asking. While it’s true that he could already guess that this was the case, he really doesn’t like how she’s teasing him with such information like this.

He narrows his eyes at her.

“Was this a collaborative effort between you and Neuvillette, before he lost his memory?”

“Technically, no..? But I had some idea on Monsieur Neuvillette’s wishes, so…”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough.” He sighs, the sound coming out like a disbelieving laugh as he pinches the bridge of his nose. What a joy, to know that his concerns were entirely unfounded. “Then is there any way we can jog his memory faster? I doubt Neuvillette truly wants to remain like this for too long.”

“I really wasn’t lying when I said that physical intimacy could help? That’s counted as procedural memory after all, and it will certainly jog the rest of Monsieur Neuvillette’s memory!”

“...you know what? I expected that, but I was hoping for another answer. It’s unfortunate that we’ll have to leave Neuvillette suffering for longer—”

“Huh? But, Your Grace!”

“See you later at the Fortress, Sigewinne. Go on ahead.” He waves at her as he gradually closes the door, watching her disbelieving expression in that slowly shrinking space.

She pleads, “You can’t really be refraining just because of me..? Your Grace, I swear I only asked for medical and health purposes!”

“I know, Sigewinne.” He smiles, no sincerity in his face whatsoever. “Bye now.”

“Your Grace!”

Click.

“You heard that, right?”

Neuvillette looks like a downtrodden puppy, the way he looks down at his clasped palms where they rest on his lap. One would doubt their own eyes seeing the Chief Justice looking so meek, but Wriothesley’s familiar enough with all his expressions that he takes it in stride. “Ah…yes, indeed,” Neuvillette mutters.

“You’re aware of what must be done so your memories return?”

“...you need not force yourself, Wriothesley. Sigewinne has good intentions, and her words may be true, but if you are in any way unwilling—”

“Oh?”

Wriothesley slips his necktie off, before going on to unbutton his vest, then his dress shirt. He smiles placidly while divesting himself of all clothing, even when Neuvillette looks upon him with pure confusion.

“Who said I’m unwilling?”

“But, earlier, you spoke of refraining..?”

“Much as I love you, and I do care for Sigewinne immensely, I don’t find it at all enjoyable to know that I’ve been toyed with, nor do I enjoy other people nosing into my business. I’d allowed your pen pal status with her before as I thought it was merely a case of espionage, but—as you can see, the case is different now. So, Monsieur Neuvillette…”

His smile widens as he holds onto both ends of his folded necktie, giving it a solid pull until it's taut between his hands.

“You will have your memories returned, but I’m afraid you’ll have to be punished for a bit along the way. I’m sure you’ll accept the consequences of your actions, right?”

Neuvillette opens his mouth, staring at him with wide eyes. Even from this distance, Wriothesley can see the tremor in those amethyst irises, the shaken quality of his breathing as he struggles (and fails) to keep his gaze to Wriothesley's face instead of any lower.

His pale face is, also, noticeably flushed.

Still, Neuvillette obediently answers:

“...yes.”

“Good, good. Then—”

He makes good time climbing back onto the bed, legs spread over Neuvillette’s waist as he effortlessly ties up both pale wrists to the headboard. Once that’s done, he sits back, full weight on Neuvillette’s lap—and smiles when he feels the growing bulge underneath him.

That smile on his face widens even further when he looks up, and is met with the sight of dilated pupils and flushed cheeks.

“I’ll begin, Neuvillette.”

Needless to say, Neuvillette regains his memory in one night, all with Wriothesley’s efforts.

(Wriothesley may have initiated and taken control at the start, but that certainly didn’t last long when faced with the instincts of a dragon—and one so desirous of his mate, at that.

Ah, well.

Having control was fun while it lasted.)