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Neuvillette was no fervent admirer of trials, nor did he find any fascination in their proceedings. He understood their necessity, upheld their purpose, and respected the law. Still, no satisfaction bloomed from watching despair unfold within the courtroom. Of course, such thoughts would never cross his lips. The people of Fontaine needed their Chief Justice to be unwavering—a symbol of justice, not a man of turmoil.
Trials came in many forms. Some concluded swiftly, mere formalities. Others dragged on for days, leaving the participants hollowed by the time the final sound of his cane fell. Grief, anger, relief, regret, these emotions hung in the air like mist, clinging to him as he listened. No matter how well he concealed it, the weight of their emotions clutched at his soul.
It wasn’t the guilt of passing judgment that unsettled him. He accepted the burden of his role long ago. No, what haunted him was the sheer force of human emotion. Every wail of anguish, every trembling plea, gnawed at the edges of his composure.
He was not made to bear the storms of others, though he had grown adept at weathering them.
Rain fell. It always did.
From the window of his office, Neuvillette watched droplets trace their paths down the glass. Thick clouds loomed over the city, darkening the once vibrant skyline. Most Fontainians had retreated to the comfort of their homes, away from the weeping sky. Only the streets, polished and glistening with water, stood witness to the quiet sorrow of the Iudex.
How often had he longed to stand amidst the downpour, to let the rain wash away the remnants of the trials? He imagined it sometimes; the cool droplets on his face, the rhythmic patter drowning out his thoughts. But even those fantasies were fleeting. Paperwork awaited. Responsibilities demanded his return. The yearning never left him, though.
Sometimes, the water’s call grew unbearable. On those nights, Neuvillette would shed the weight of his title and slip away to the depths. The moment the waves embraced him, the ache in his chest eased. Currents twisted around him, urging him to stay. Each flick of his tail sent him further into the vast, endless blue. The sensation of water gliding against his scales lingered long after he resurfaced. Yet, the parting always left him hollow.
Fontaine could never be home.
Not like it once was.
Today’s trial had been particularly cruel.
A woman, trembling and broken, collapsed before the court. Her sobs echoed through the chamber, unrelenting. The accused, her former friend, stood motionless as the verdict was read. Betrayal and murder. Two words that sealed the fates of them both. Neuvillette kept his gaze steady, though the sight of her tear-streaked face haunted him still.
Even now, seated at his desk, he could hear her cries. Each anguished sob twisted into something deeper, something unbearably familiar. He glanced at his hands, still as the raindrops beyond the window. No judgment stained them, yet he felt the phantom weight of sorrow all the same.
A face surfaced in his thoughts. Golden eyes, steady and warm. Strong hands, calloused from centuries of battles and treaties. The memory of a laugh, low and rumbling like shifting rock.
Morax.
Neuvillette exhaled sharply, though no air could dispel the ache gnawing at him. It had been too long. Far too long. The warmth of that embrace, the reassurance of a presence so steadfast… he yearned for it. How could he not?
Morax was stone, enduring through the ages, while Neuvillette remained the sea, restless and eternal. For years, their paths had aligned, two forces in harmony. Yet duty was relentless. Liyue had its own burdens. Fontaine had its storms. And so, they endured apart.
But not tonight.
The decision settled within him like the first drop of rain upon still water. Neuvillette rose from his desk, the soft patter against the window offering no protest. His robes, damp from the lingering humidity, trailed behind him as he made his way through the empty halls of the Palais Mermonia.
By the time the city had quieted to a whisper, the Iudex was gone, and his paperwork left abandoned on his desk.
Zhongli stirred, the faint creak of his bedroom door rousing him from sleep. Candlelight flickered from the hallway, casting a silhouette against the wooden frame.
Even with the haze of slumber clinging to him, recognition struck instantly.
“Neuvillette?”
His voice, low and steady, carried no trace of surprise. Years may have passed, yet he would know that presence in any lifetime.
No response came. Neuvillette stood motionless for a moment, the soft patter of rain against the window lingering in the silence. Then, without a word, he shed his heavy robes, letting them crumple to the floor. The cane he carried clattered against the polished wood, abandoned without thought. Zhongli shifted, propping himself upright. Concern etched into his features as the pale figure approached.
The tension that clung to Neuvillette’s shoulders did not go unnoticed. Though the dim lighting masked much, Zhongli saw the weariness in those violet eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness.
A storm had passed, but the wreckage remained.
No words were exchanged when Neuvillette crossed the room, his trembling frame seeking refuge. Zhongli opened his arms without hesitation. The impact was gentle and fierce, as though the sea itself had thrown its weight upon the shore.
Neuvillette clung to him, fingers twisting into his loose hair. He buried his face against Zhongli’s shoulder, the warmth beneath his trembling hands grounding him. The Iudex’s composure unraveled, silent sobs wracking his form. Zhongli said nothing at first. His hands traced soothing circles along Neuvillette’s back, steady and patient. The weight of his lover’s sorrow pressed against him, but he did not shy away.
“What has thrown you into such deep sorrow, my Sovereign?” The question came in a whisper, his voice tender. “Clearly, it must be no small matter if you came all this way from Fontaine.”
Neuvillette did not answer. Tears wetted the bare skin beneath him, his breathing uneven. Whatever grief held him captive, it refused to loosen its grip. Zhongli did not press further. If Neuvillette wished to share, he would. Until then, the silence would suffice, for Morax had learned the art of patience. Years had molded him into stone; a steadfast presence, unyielding in his devotion. He would wait an eternity for Neuvillette to speak. But if words never came, that was fine too.
Zhongli pulled him closer, the rhythmic beat of his heart steady against Neuvillette’s ear. The storm outside raged on, yet within these walls, a quiet calm remained.
In the arms of his mate, the Iudex found solace.
The next morning crept in with soft golden light spilling through the windows. Zhongli stirred beneath the warmth of the blankets, the lingering remnants of slumber still tugging at him. His body instinctively reached out to the other side of the bed, seeking the comforting presence that had been there hours before.
Empty.
He opened his eyes, the absence of his mate becoming clear. The sheets were cool to the touch, though the faintest trace of Neuvillette’s scent still clung to them, the subtle reminder of the night before. Zhongli frowned. It wasn’t like Neuvillette to vanish without a word.
Pushing aside the covers, he let out a low sigh. The silence in the house was neither unsettling nor ominous, but it left him wondering. Where had his beloved wandered off to so early? Had he already set off to Fontaine?
A robe draped neatly across the armchair by the bed caught his attention. He slipped it on, the smooth silk cascading over his frame. It concealed just enough to keep the morning chill at bay, though the loose fabric left his chest partially exposed. Not that it mattered — the house was empty save for him (and Neuvillette?).
Barefoot, Zhongli padded down the wooden stairs, the faint creaks beneath his steps familiar. The distant sound of a soft simmer reached his ears, along with the unmistakable scent of something savory.
The kitchen.
Sure enough, there stood Neuvillette, his long silver hair cascading down his back in perfect waves without those accessories he loved so dearly. He moved with an unusual ease, stirring the contents of a pot with focused attention. The golden glow of morning sunlight illuminated him, casting a gentle halo around his figure.
Beauty incarnate, Zhongli thought.
Zhongli leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching the scene before him with quiet amusement. The Iudex of Fontaine, so poised and dignified in court, now stood in his kitchen tasting soup like a seasoned chef.
“Neuvillette? Love? Are you alright?”
Neuvillette barely flinched at the question. He lifted the wooden spoon to his lips once more, savoring the broth with a small hum. His shoulders loosened, some of the tension from the night before visibly easing. Zhongli approached slowly, concern softening his tone.
“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he murmured, his voice as calm as ever.
Neuvillette finally lowered the spoon, his violet eyes flicking toward Zhongli. There was no trace of the overwhelming sorrow that had consumed him the previous night, though a certain weariness remained.
“Sorry… about last night,” Neuvillette murmured. His hands lingered on the edge of the countertop, as though the marble brought him some comfort. “My mind was… elsewhere. I needed to see you immediately and didn’t know what else to do.” His eyes were cast downward, avoiding Zhongli’s worried gaze. “Forgive me if I caused you any trouble.”
Zhongli didn’t hesitate. He stepped behind Neuvillette, his arms wrapping around the other’s waist. The fabric of Zhongli’s robe brushed against the smooth silk of Neuvillette’s expensive blouse, their bodies fitting together with practiced familiarity.
“Oh, there’s no need to apologize, my dear Sovereign,” Zhongli said, his words laced with affection. His chin rested lightly on Neuvillette’s shoulder, his lips brushing against the delicate skin there. “I am here if you need anything. Truly. If you ever find yourself overwhelmed, you need only call through our bond. There’s no need to cross the entirety of Fontaine and then some to see me in such desperation. I will come as swiftly as I can. You have my word.”
The warmth of Zhongli’s breath against his skin coaxed a faint shiver from Neuvillette, though not from the cold. He tilted his head slightly, allowing Zhongli’s touch to linger. The weight of those words settled gently over him.
Zhongli pressed a tender kiss to Neuvillette’s temple, lingering just long enough to draw a soft exhale from the Iudex. Then, as though unable to resist, he let his lips trace downwards. The corner of Neuvillette’s mouth received a fleeting kiss, and soon after, the faint scar etched upon his neck, a mark of their bond, was met with equal reverence.
The bite had long since healed, though its presence remained. Not visible to all, but undeniable to those who understood. It was a symbol of devotion and of eternity. Zhongli’s thumb brushed gently along the scar’s edge, his gaze full of something far deeper than affection.
Neuvillette’s heart, which had spent the night weighed down with sorrow, now beat with a little more steadiness. He turned in Zhongli’s embrace, his hands finding their place at the other’s neck. The silk robe parted slightly, exposing more of Zhongli’s chest. Neuvillette’s fingers traced absent patterns along the warm skin, his touch slow and deliberate.
“Of course,” he murmured, violet eyes meeting gold. “Next time, I won’t be so careless.”
The small smile that followed, was genuine.
Zhongli responded with a slight chuckle, low, rumbling, and comforting. He didn’t voice his approval with words. Instead, he leaned in, and Neuvillette followed suit. Their lips met, the kiss slow and grounding. No anguish, no sorrow. Only the comfort of one presence melting into the other.
They lingered like that, lost in the quiet reassurance their embrace provided. Outside, the soft rain had slowed to a drizzle, droplets trailing lazily down the windows.
Zhongli held his dear Hydro Sovereign close. And Neuvillette, for the first time in a long, long while, let himself be held.