Archive of Our Own

“Oh! I-I’m so terribly sorry Monsieur, but I really can’t allow you and your friend inside. The restaurant is closed for the night!” The young lady at the door profusely apologized for what must’ve been the third time. Based on her terrified expression and shaking hands, it wasn’t hard to guess refusing patrons of this magnitude hadn’t been included anywhere in her job description.

“Closed...? Is that so...? Well, that is indeed curious, then. In the many years I’ve been paying visits to Hotel Debord, I could only recall a handful of times when it was closed to the general public.” The Chief Justice mused to himself slowly, and then looked around the street as if the cracks in the pavement held the answers to his yet unknown queries. “I suppose it is what it is. Miss, would it be alright for me to ask you to explain the reason behind this state of things...? I hope it’s not too much trouble, it’s just that... I’m beginning to worry I’d missed a major holiday or event...”

Poor thing. He looked genuinely concerned about the clarity of his own mind. At his age, it probably wasn’t an unfounded concern, either.

“No, no, nothing of the sort! It is at no fault of Monsieur’s!” The employee was quick to clarify. “It’s only that tonight, the renowned Chef Escoffier is holding a seminar for our staff. Attendance is mandatory and as such, we are unable to serve our patrons as usual. You have my sincerest apologies, both of you! Perhaps I could instead interest you in some special vouch—“

“Seriously?” Up until that point, Wriothesley had spent the majority of the conversation observing from the sidelines – as he often did – but with the realization that they really wouldn’t be able to come inside, something inside him snapped. “You can’t make a single exception for the Iudex of Fontaine? You know he’s kind of... in charge here, right? Surely you have something in the pantry, waiting for tomorrow’s opening... Just put it out on the table and we’ll take care of the rest ourselves...” He was radiating pure entitlement – and yet, there was a noticeable begging note in his voice.

The Duke gritted his teeth. Normally, he’d be the last one to cause problems to innocent, underpaid employees. He wasn’t proud of his persistence just then, but... they really needed to get inside that fancy hotel. That night was supposed to be special. Special.

His sweaty palms balled into fists inside of his pockets. To be more precise: his right hand wrapped and clenched nervously around the small, velvet ring box he was hiding in one of them.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir!” The woman clasped her hands together and bowed, now on the verge of tears. “B-But that would go against our h-health and safety regulations! If something were to happen to either of you, our hotel would face terrible consequences and our staff would be at risk of going to the Fortress of Meropide... again!” Her voice quivered with dread as she uttered the name; she didn’t seem to be aware of who she was talking to. Laying low had its pros and cons.

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause that would be terrible...” He muttered impatiently under his breath.

“I-It’s alright! There’s no need to go such lengths... we will simply go and dine elsewhere, isn’t that right? Thank you very much for indulging us. See you another time, hopefully.” Neuvillette finally intervened before the girl could pass out from anxiety and pulled Wriothesley to the side.

“B-But—“ Feeling as though his hopes and dreams were disappearing on the horizon along with the nervous doorwoman, Wriothesley had quickly gone from denial to bargaining, “Oh, you know what? I actually know that Escoffier girl. She used to be one of mine. I’m sure she must have some dirty prison stories to her name... If only I scoured my memory... Now, I’m not saying blackmailing is a good solution by any means, but you have to admit, it is a solution—“

“Wriothesley...” The tone of his voice combined with what appeared to be sparks of pure elemental energy in the Hydro dragon’s eyes were enough to shut the scoundrel up real quick. “What has gotten into you tonight? I barely recognize you...”

To be fair, he barely recognized himself, too. He was far better at hiding it, but at heart, he felt no different than that shivering lady they’d just left behind.

“I’m kidding, I’m just kidding!” He flailed his arms defensively. “I’m sorry. I just... I know you’ve been really looking forward to this evening. I didn’t want you to be disappointed... even though you’d never say it out loud...”

“Disappointed? What nonsense...” He shook his head so fast it made the long rhinophores on his head wobble. “I’ve been looking forward to my day off because I’d get to spend it with you, Wriothesley, and not because we were supposed to sit at some restaurant. Don’t be absurd, I thought these sorts of things would’ve been obvious by now...” His eyes trailed downwards; the very same troubled, doubtful expression from earlier had made a prompt return.

Lucky for him, the shrewd Duke knew him well enough to be able to read it without much trouble: as usual, he must’ve been worrying about conveying his feelings properly. It had been a few years since he’d regained his authority and with it, he’d also accepted – thank the Archons – that being a fair, impartial judge and de facto leader of a nation didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t form any close bonds with anyone until the current eon had passed. After all, he was a firsthand witness to everything that had happened to Lady Furina after her long years of solitude. Nevertheless, even when he wasn’t struggling with the concept of being allowed to express his feelings, he still doubted his ability to express them exactly how he wished to. Neuvillette was exceptionally good with big words, but... none of them ever seemed grand enough to convey the sentiments of an ancient dragon. As such, he actually said very little in that regard which, consequently, became the root cause of his woes.

Thankfully, despite his own emotional shortcomings, Wriothesley was well aware that actions could speak louder than words and to him, the very fact that he chose to spend his elusive vacation days by his side was proof enough that he was among the most important humans to him. At least in theory... Frankly speaking, he wasn’t that good with his words, either... or actions, for that matter. But he did truly love him like he hadn’t ever loved anyone else in his life so... that was why he’d planned this whole thing. Before it fell into ruin faster than Remuria, that is.

“I know! Of course I do, love. But it wouldn’t hurt for us to do something nice outside of our workplaces for once, no?” He sighed. It really would have been nice. A gourmet dinner in a beautiful hotel that had witnessed so many of their most secret encounters... a dream that was all but gone. It was worthless to dwell over it any longer. He had more dire things to worry about, such as what the hell was he going to do next?

Was he supposed to just whip the ring out in the middle of the street, under a random lantern...? Or should he postpone... No, no, if he chickened out now, he’d never be able to convince himself to do it again. Not before the next Archon War. Also, it was their anniversary that night. It really was supposed to be nice, damn it!

None of the options seemed particularly appealing anymore.

At some point, the two of them had unconsciously begun to walk down the street again, in sync with each other’s steps, nonetheless. Night was starting to fall at the Court of Fontaine, and much as dusk was drawing curtains over the dusty blue sky, most of the surrounding establishments were starting to close, if they hadn’t done so already. The streets were nearly empty, par for an occasional Melusine officer passing by on her evening patrol.

As they neared the street corner, the Duke looked around cautiously:

“Hmm... do you think we’re out of Sir Arthur’s range yet...?”

Neuvillette also peeked over his shoulder, searching for the mechanical pelican located in front of The Steambird’s headquarters, and then nodded.

Wriothesley sighed again, this time with relief, and reached for the other’s hand. It wasn’t that they were ashamed to walk like that publicly, it was that... well, not everyone needed to know. Sometimes, even two recognizable figures like themselves wanted to have something only the two of them could cherish.

“So... what are we going to do now? I really wanted to take you somewhere special, you know.”

The judge sauntered by his side for a while, intertwining their fingers in the meantime, until finally, an idea seemed to have struck him:

“Well... as it happens... I can think of one location that I’d consider to be... special enough.”

“Enlighten me then.” Quietly, Wriothesley was praying he wasn’t about suggest his office; not that the location hadn’t witnessed its own share of worthwhile memories – perhaps even more so than the hotel – but when he pictured himself sitting in the visitor’s chair in front of his desk instead of a candle-lit restaurant, he thought he may as well propose to Sedene.

“Honestly, I find it strange that I’m the one suggesting it first.” He said, rubbing his chin and... was that a flicker of disappointment in his eyes? “Your secondary apartment shouldn’t be too far from here, correct? It’s right by the Palais, after all... Why don’t we go there?”

“Oh, right, right... the townhouse...” A fairly unwelcome reminder; Wriothesley scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. It was honestly one of the last places that’d come to mind. Of course, in the relatively short time that he’d owned it, Neuvillette had been invited over plenty of times – as the one who’d made the purchase possible by granting him his noble title, he held a second set of keys to look after it during the owner’s absence and as such, it wouldn’t be wrong to assume he spent more time in there than Wriothesley himself. He was also the only visitor, really... Clorinde, Chevreuse, and Furina had come for a housewarming party one time, only to call it a ‘mancave’ and sternly declare none of them would be coming back until he did something about the scarce, soulless décor it had come with by default. And the problem was, Wriothesley was a busy man... and a chronic procrastinator at that... In his defense, he didn’t exactly know what to do with it. He’d never owned a regular house before. And while he couldn’t accuse Neuvillette of being someone petulant enough to care about the lack of colors and textures in his ‘cave’, it was a bit embarrassing for him to admit he hadn’t done anything new about the lackluster décor in... a year and a half. Not to even mention, he couldn’t imagine that place being appropriate for a proposal, either. Perhaps it was time to concede defeat and accept the fact that he’d remain a bachelor for the rest of his days.

He cleared his throat before continuing:

“Ahem, yeah. Yeah, I suppose that’s our only solid option right now... It’s just that, uhh... I haven’t been there in a while, I must admit. I’m not sure if it’s in a state that allows for visiting. It’s probably dusty as hell and the fridge must be empty, and...”

Before he could finish making his sorry excuses, he was interrupted by a rare impatient tongue click from the Chief Justice:

“Tsk, I believe I should be offended by Your Grace’s cruel insinuations! Your apartment has been well taken care of while you remained at the Fortress!” He crossed his arms proudly; Wriothesley always enjoyed whenever the humble Iudex got all smug about the most insignificant and minuscule matters – however, this time, he couldn’t help but raise a brow at his claims, which made the other break under scrutiny instantly. “U-Umm, well, as you may know, I am rather busy with my daily duties, so... I gave a copy of your keys to Kiara. She and a few other officers were tasked with uh... ‘watering your plants’ a couple of times a week. Admittedly... knowing that you’d be coming tonight, I had asked them to do a little bit of shopping as well.”

“Oh, great...” Wriothesley’s hand flew to his temples, anticipating an incoming headache in advance, “Neuvillette... I’m not trying to discredit the Melusines’ trustworthiness by any means, but... did you tell them not to make any more copies? Because, uh... knowing their... ‘enthusiasm’... I wouldn’t be surprised if about a dozen keys to my house were being passed around Merusea Village as we speak...”

At the very least he didn’t have to worry about wall décor anymore. He expected nothing less than for the entire apartment to be decked out in stickers.

He was, of course, being a little cynical. Honestly, though...

The ring box was still very much bulging out of his pants’ pocket and yet, it couldn’t have felt more distant.

“Oh...? Oh. Oh, dear. Do you think that is the case?” Neuvillette’s beautiful face became utterly crestfallen as he covered his mouth with his hand. They both knew that the only reason he was asking that was because at heart, he already knew the answer. “W-Well, then... all the more reasons for us to go and check on it.”

Wriothesley blinked, surprised. He’d rarely seen him be so persistent about something that wasn’t related to law... or water.

“You really do wanna go there, huh? But... you’ve been there before. You should know it’s nothing impressive... it’s a work in progress, alright...”

“Its luxury far exceeds that of the ocean floor, I’m sure.” He chuckled all of the sudden before shifting his timid gaze away. It was a sweet look on him... very sweet. “You know I can be a bit peculiar about my diet, too, so... I was hoping that maybe... we could cook something together?”

“Cook together...?” Ah, well, that was also new. The Duke had to stop mid-step to take it in properly. Indeed, Neuvillette wasn’t exactly a... foodie in the most commonly understood meaning of that term. That was precisely why the suggestion seemed so unusual. They’d never done anything like it... it sounded quite tempting, actually. Perhaps the soft-spoken Iudex had some plans of his own that night. Wriothesley thought about it for a moment, but seeing no major downsides other than a tasteless procrastinator’s hurt ego, he eagerly accepted the offer. “You know what? You’ve convinced me. Let’s go! No time to waste, I’m starving! Just... don’t blame me if the décor makes you lose appetite...”

“Unlikely!” He replied, and laughed again as Wriothesley dragged him into a very non-dignified run across the empty street. Nevermind that running in public spaces after dusk between the tenth and twentieth day of the month was strictly outlawed. Nobody really knew why – not even Neuvillette himself. But what they were going to do? Put themselves on trial, or perhaps send themselves straight to prison?

Maybe that night wouldn’t be the one he popped the big question... but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be nice or special regardless. Actually, as the never-ending anxiety-ridden delirium of the past few weeks slowly faded away, Wriothesley felt a great wave of relief. He couldn’t say this wasn’t a good outcome, either.

Thankfully, once they’d arrived and discarded their heavy coats, they quickly found out that the Melusines have been doing their due diligence after hours. There were a few specks of dust flying here and there, and more than a few stickers peeked at them from different nooks and crannies, but it was nothing to be majorly ashamed of. For better or worse – most likely the latter – a year and a half after he’d purchased it officially, the apartment still carried that fresh ‘new house’ smell consisting primarily of paint and glue. The furnishings left much more to be desired: none of them were ugly or shabby by any means, quite the opposite. It was a rather pricy townhouse in a sought-after location, within a walking distance of Neuvillette’s office, nonetheless. It was just very... impersonal. Very far from Wriothesley’s personal aesthetic, that’s for sure. The thing was, he wasn’t sure whether changing the couch from a blue to a red one would’ve done much to help it simply not feeling like a... home. He couldn’t get used to the place. It was just so quiet and empty. At least at the Fortress, he was never truly alone. He hardly had the time to be bored, either – his inmates made sure of that.

That night however, the cold and bland atmosphere was no more; not with his dearest judge by his side.

And speaking of cold and bland...

“Those sure are... ingredients.” Wriothesley summed up as he pulled his head out of the fridge. It was not empty, oh no. It... was not even close to being full, either. It was just a very peculiar collection of ingredients, most of which he was sure had come from the wilderness rather than the grocery stall. How was that even possible? The Maréchaussée Phantom officers were stationed in the city, too!

Worst of all, there was not a single boar steak in sight! Not even squirrel or crocodile! There was a single, measly fowl with some feathers on it still, but it was in no condition for roasting. No sauces... and the only ‘spice’ to speak of was a small bundle of Marcottes.

Well then. His ideas... kind of ended there. Guess it was scrambled eggs in candlelight for them tonight.

“I... think I will be able to, umm... ‘whip something up’ with those.” Neuvillette unexpectedly blurted out, having thoroughly examined the contents of the fridge himself.

“You... will?” It was hard to hide the doubt in his voice.

“Yes. As you’re aware my dear, I prefer my food to be rather uncomplicated, so... I know a few recipes that are just that. Uncomplicated. Unless you have any ideas of your own?”

“No, no... the kitchen’s all yours.” He said, broadly gesturing around. “Just tell me what to do and we’re set.” He may not have always followed them, but... the Duke of Meropide still did best with clear orders.

“Splendid.”

And... get to work they did, though not without rolling up their expensive sleeves beforehand. As difficult as it was to realistically believe, Neuvillette had always insisted that the only thing he could properly prepare were soups of all kinds. It was difficult to believe because, well, how could a man who spent several centuries as a fully grown human only be able to cook intricate stews but not fry an egg or make simple porridge?! No, it was far more likely that he used that as an excuse of his own to only ever make what he enjoyed most. And that was, in fact, soup. His signature ‘consommé purete’ to be precise, which was also his choice for that night. Personally, Wriothesley sincerely doubted he’d be able to get full from that, but it was alright. Truth be told, his stomach was still a bit cramped from the whole proposal fiasco. He didn’t want to think about it for the time being, nor did he have the time to.

The sounds of clanking dishes and knives hitting the chopping board as Wriothesley worked his magic on the few vegetables they had quickly spread throughout the empty kitchen. This peculiar symphony wasn’t enough for the restless Duke, however, which soon ended up leading him straight to the record player. It was an old gramophone, quite possibly the same model he kept in his office, as well as one of the few custom pieces he’d actually brought into his so-called ‘summer home’. He was glad he had. It did wonders for setting the mood.

Wriothesley couldn’t say he’d ever felt this... cozy, before. The two of them were standing side by side, occasionally bumping elbows in the bachelor-sized kitchen. Chopping one carrot after another, he entertained himself with humming along to the tunes, although half of his attention had definitely been stolen by his lover’s rarely exposed neck, now that he had tied his silver hair up into a high ponytail, lest any of it fell into the soup. Neuvillette’s face was focused, diligent as ever. It was almost adorable how dedicated he was to making sure their dinner came out right.

“Come to think about it... doesn’t broth usually take ages to make? And then you gotta freeze and filter it... Are we going to wait that long?” He asked after a while, peeking curiously into the simmering pot.

“Hmm... I suppose you’re right. When I’m cooking for myself, I don’t typically worry about how much time it takes... but...” Neuvillette looked towards the pot as well before shifting his gaze to his own hands. “It does not necessarily need to take... ‘ages’.”

He snapped his fingers and with it, all of the sudden, the broth hissed and bubbled aggressively, starting to boil at full throttle despite the fact that the flame had not been increased.

“Pheeew... Impressive!”

“Thank you. I hope I can count on your help when it comes to the ‘freezing’ part, too.”

A Hydro dragon special, huh? Wasn’t he amazing? Wriothesley couldn’t help but laugh again. A few minutes later, as they were finishing the cleanup, he leaned over the stove again, attracted by the quickly intensifying smell:

“Mmh, smells quite good already... Have you tried it yet? Y’know, just to see if we got everything right...” Newly reminded of how hungry he actually was – considering he’d been unable to swallow a single bite since breakfast – he reached for the spoon, only to have his hand brutally smacked away.

“D-Don’t! It’s not ready yet...!” A surprisingly upset Neuvillette scolded him. “The flavor hasn’t been fully extracted, not to mention the temperature is not right for consumption. The water didn’t even have time to absorb the essence of the seasonings...!”

At first, Wriothesley was a bit puzzled, since he couldn’t recall using any ‘seasonings’ other than salt and a pinch of stale pepper – and the Marcottes, if one wished to stretch the definition – only to end up realizing the Iudex did not mean any of these. He was talking about the ingredients. The meat and vegetables... those were the ‘seasonings’ to him. To his water.

He groaned quietly; loving that man was a bit painful, sometimes, and not at all due to their long-distance status...

“Please, just a sip? I’m hungry!”

But yet again, Neuvillette found a way to silence his moaning – with a kiss, nonetheless, and though it’d come out of the left field, the other had no further complaints to make. It was absolutely perfect: soft, warm, and sweet. Without a doubt, no meal could ever come close to this exquisite flavor. Wriothesley was happy to be reminded that Neuvillette had always been a lot bolder when they didn’t have any company. Actually, that applied to both of them.

“Did that help...?” The Iudex asked innocently. Of course, he was nothing but innocent at all times.

“Hah, well... It was nice, but... not very filling. I’m afraid I might need a little bit more than that.”

“In that case... I’m afraid this will have to do.” And with that, Neuvillette grabbed one of the leftover pieces of carrot and shoved it in the stunned Duke’s mouth. Unfortunately, before the latter could retaliate in any way, he’d stepped just outside of his reach and appeared to have gotten lost in the music for a moment until finally, he turned around. “While we wait, perhaps... May I have this dance?”

Dance...? He really was in a chipper mood that day, wasn’t he? The look in his lilac eyes was dazzling, and the hand he’d extended – increasingly tempting. Alas, Wriothesley took an excruciatingly long time to chew on his rabbit food, leaving poor Neuvillette hanging as a form of small but sweet revenge for the sass.

He might’ve taken a tad too long in the end; the judge was just about to wilt in disappointment when Wriothesley dashed to his side, sweeping him into a clumsy but appropriately romantic little waltz.

They wouldn’t be caught dead doing any of this in public, which was why they’d fervently avoided any major party invitations. They weren’t bad dancers or anything, but it was something reserved solely for the privacy of their own home.

Right... The aroma drifting over from the kitchen was gradually taking over the artificial paint scent. The house was actually starting to feel like a home... Wriothesley was well aware that he should be inviting the other to stay over more often. Preferably forever. But, first things first, and the first thing on his list... had been rendered largely impossible by the events of this tumultuous but nonetheless pleasant night.

“Wouldn’t you agree that this is somewhat nicer than dining at Hotel Debord?” Neuvillette whispered into his ear, having rested his chin on top of his shoulder as they twirled around.

“Yeah, yeah... you know me too well, don’t you? I’m a stay at home kind of man at heart... but I’d always thought you were the one who enjoyed fancy joints?” Frankly, to learn he’d been pretending for his sake all this time... would be crushing.

“Oh, I do like to indulge myself in something extravagant now and then...” Neuvillette reassured him. “But like I said before... I like being with you above all else and... the only time I wish to attract people’s curious glances would be at my podium at the courtroom. Whenever I show myself in public I feel as though everyone’s looking at me – which they likely are, considering my status – and as a result, I end up doubting myself. Sometimes I even worry that after all those years... they way I go about tasks as simple as handling the cutlery is not... ‘human’ enough.”

Hearing such a confession out of nowhere was a bit of a shock. In fact, initially, Wriothesley had nearly tripped over his own feet because of it.

He could sort of see where the other was coming from, but it was sad to hear, nonetheless. Neuvillette’s ‘secret’ wasn’t so confidential as not to let anyone ever know about it, unlike that of Lady Furina – but it was still something he preferred to keep private, just like his obscenely partial relationships. It must’ve been weighing on him quite a bit, not to even mention the constant feeling that he was just ‘human’ enough to be dependent on Fontaine’s society, yet also not ‘human’ enough to feel fully accepted by it. In many ways, Wriothesley could relate. There were a hefty number of reasons as to why he stayed cooped up in his Fortress most of the time.

Thing was, whether he had his power and authority or not, Wriothesley considered Neuvillette to be among the most glaring examples of humanity and selflessness he’d ever seen. He was certainly far more human than some of the scum he had to deal with on daily basis. Even if he wasn’t, however – even if he really resembled a giant underwater beast straight out of Teyvat’s oldest myths – as long as his heart stayed unchanged, this particular human would love him all the same.

There was none other like him, truly.

“You table manners are a hundred times better than mine, I bet.” He joked, offering him a small smile, and then spun Neuvillette slowly, stealing all potential arguments from him. Once he had him back, his hands settled on his waist again, holding him a little tighter than before. “But in all seriousness, you don’t need to worry about these things around me, I hope you know that. Judging is your job, not mine.”

From the startled look in his widened eyes it was easy to tell the stoic old dragon had been moved by his words, though he did his best not to show it. Instead, he smiled right back at him, as simply as he could.

“I’m well aware. After all, that’s... why I lov— oh!” Interrupted by the vicious hiss of an overflowing pot back at the kitchen, the two were abruptly forced to part as Neuvillette ran back inside it to salvage their dinner, apparently more concerned about it that the self-proclaimed starving host.

Suddenly finding himself abandoned in the middle of the living room, the Duke of Meropide had never thought that his worst enemy would end up being an overzealous pot of broth. The discovery was rather bitter, nonetheless.

Luckily, he would soon be able to take it all out on the nefarious concoction by freezing and eating it; with the tiniest assistance from the power of Hydro, the soup quite literally flew back into the pot to be completed. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about Neuvillette’s overwhelmingly rare outspoken confession, which had been lost for good.

Before long, the two ever-hesitant lovebirds were able to sit down at the barely used table to enjoy their well earned meal. Wriothesley couldn’t have been more grateful for Neuvillette’s merciful act of leaving some actual meat and vegetables inside the otherwise ‘pure’ consommé. As it happened, Cryo users needed something slightly more solid than plain water to sustain themselves with.

And... that was where he truly believed the night would end. Just chatting as they sipped on their haphazardly yet lovingly made dinner in the candlelight, with the slight hope that now that they’d been in his house, Neuvillette would agree to stay the night, too. Wriothesley was hardly a demanding man. Ending things that way would’ve been perfectly fine by him.

As soon as he’d swallowed the first spoonful of soup, however... he was in for a shock he couldn’t have prepared for in a thousand years. Really, it was almost as if he’d been electrified the moment its flavor hit his tongue. As if someone had pulled a lever at the back of his head he never knew was there.

His reaction hadn’t been caused by the soup’s temperature or anything like that; his astonishment stemmed solely from its taste. Namely, the fact that said taste... felt familiar.

Familiar, yet also incredibly distant, but not so much that he wouldn’t be able to instantly recognize it. At first, he was just surprised, trying to place the source of his strange soup nostalgia and once he finally did...

In utter disbelief, he ate another spoon immediately. Upon the no less shocking confirmation, he dropped the utensil back into the bowl as both of his hands rushed towards his mouth.

Naturally, none of his bizarre behavior could’ve gone without Neuvillette taking note of it.

“Wriothesley...? Is everything alright? Did you burn your tongue...? Ah, please, don’t tell me we’ve added too much salt...”

“I... I know this taste. T-This exact taste... huh.” He finally stuttered out, words muffled by his fingers, though obviously, that revelation didn’t do much to enlighten the other.

“Do you...? Hmm, I’m unsure whether you’re trying to imply that it’s a good thing or not, but...” Neuvillette himself tapped his fingers against his chin, intrigued by the mystery. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever shared this recipe with you before. It’s not exactly suitable for most people’s palates. It’s my personal variation on the regular Fontainian consommé. I’m not sure where you could’ve tried it...” In order to examine it more thoroughly, he continued eating his soup, savoring each spoon as he did.

Wriothesley, meanwhile, was still utterly bewildered.

Technically speaking, there wasn’t anything remarkable about this watery consommé, apart from its blandness. No, that wasn’t quite right – the soup wasn’t bland as much as it was mild and delicate. Gentle on the stomach... which would be especially appreciated by those who hadn’t eaten anything decent in a week’s time.

It was hot – each mouthful sent pleasant warmth across his body, but as his head drifted away into the plane of memories, Wriothesley’s hands suddenly went stiff from the nonexistent cold.

Cold... indeed. That day, so many years ago now, was particularly cold and rainy for the season. It’d been raining incessantly since the early morning hours. By that time however, he was too weak to move out of the raindrops’ way. He was curled up in the corner of some dingy alleyway like the pathetic little thing he was, with only a couple of stray dogs for company. They were good boys... unlike him. He wasn’t so small anymore – it’d been getting increasingly hard to steal food.

To be completely honest, he didn’t remember too many details from that day. After a week’s worth of starvation, he was barely conscious to begin with. And he was angry as the devil – angry, because he’d never agreed to such a pitiful ending for himself. At the same time... he felt relief. He’d been getting more and more tired of the never-ending fight for survival. What was even there to fight for if nobody needed him, not even his own family?

That was when... he was unexpectedly approached by a Melusine officer, conveniently holding a bowl of hot soup that seemed to have come out of nowhere. It was bland, but nevertheless the best meal he’d had his entire damned life. And... it just happened to have been modified in the same exact way – with extra ingredients in order to feed the starving child.

Melusines were widely known for their kindness, so for the longest time, Wriothesley simply assumed the Maréchaussée Phantom had taken mercy on him that day. That one, and a few others afterwards. The free food wasn’t a given every single day, but it’d felt like whenever he was on the verge of giving up, something – or someone – would send that soup his way as a means to pull himself up by the bootstraps and keep going. The last time he’d ever had it was roughly a month before he was taken in by his foster ‘parents’.

There was one little detail that stood out in this sob-worthy story, however – one that had bothered him ever since he’d read Fontaine’s legal code for the first time.

Due to their troubled history with Fontainians, according to the law, Melusines were generally not permitted to give humans any unsolicited gifts or offerings. Not only that, but the Duke had since experienced their peculiar culinary ideas firsthand, living under the same roof with Sigewinne and all. Without discrediting the Melusines, he had his doubts as to whether they’d be able to cook something so... appealing to the human palate. As such, as an adult, he was left to wonder whether someone else had ordered the officer to feed him, as well as who that person might’ve been.

Wait a minute...

The realization wasn’t immediate, no. He was still too taken with the fact that a peaceful dinner with his partner could’ve so suddenly and unexpectedly reminded him of a deeply buried incident from his past. As he stared back into the puzzled eyes before him, slowly but surely, he began to understand.

His heart raced like it was just about to jump out of his chest.

“N-Neuvillette...” He measured his words carefully, unsure of how to even bring this matter up.

“Yes?” He promptly responded, as plain as could be.

“Are you... sure you’ve never cooked this particular dish for me before...?”

“Hmm... By all means, if you do remember such an instance, feel free to remind me, but the two of us typically tend to dine at restaurants or the coupon cafeteria, don’t we?” No matter how intensely he stared into those slanted pupils, there was nothing in them that suggested the other was purposefully lying. Relieving, if not very helpful. But Wriothesley wasn’t stupid, either. He knew how to push a man to the wall if he needed to. It came with years of interrogation practice.

“Perhaps I should rephrase my question...” He tried again, straightening up in his seat, which seemed to have startled the other even more. “It’s entirely possible you’ve never served it to anyone named ‘Wriothesley’, but... how about a different little kid who... just happened to have my face?”

“Umm... What might you be getting at...? I... truly don’t recall a... ‘kid’...” But before he could even finish speaking, Neuvillette’s face was already telling an entirely different story. Its fair hue had turned even paler, and it was now his turn to drop the spoon and cover his mouth in shock. “N-No... Y-You couldn’t have possibly remembered that... right?” He stuttered.

“Depends on what we mean by ‘that’. And what I do remember is a kind Melusine officer coming to me in a time of need... and giving me a dish that just happened to taste exactly like this... ‘personal recipe’ of yours.” After waiting to learn the truth for so many years, Wriothesley couldn’t help but act a little impatient. He was pushing him hard – straight into an inescapable corner. He would find out now or never. “But if I recall, Melusines are not allowed to give humans handouts so willy-nilly, are they now?”

“No... I’ve indeed prohibited it, based on many instances in which humans had taken advantage of their generosity...”

“Mhm. So... Your Honor, how can we possibly explain...” He stirred around his bowl, the slow clinking of the spoon counting long seconds he spent staring at the other expectantly, “...the soup? Was it you who sent it my way?”

“I-I...” It wasn’t often that the Iudex would shift around in his seat so uncomfortably, staring meekly at his feet as if he were the one giving testimony for once. “It was.”

In that moment, with those very words, Wriothesley felt his heart sink all the way into his stomach. It wasn’t a negative sensation, exactly – a paralyzing and overwhelming one, yes. Ever since he’d become aware of Sigewinne and Neuvillette’s correspondence which mentioned him more often than not, he’d had some suspicions here and there, but... it was nevertheless extremely bizarre to realize... every good thing that he’d ever experienced over the course of his entire life was all doing of one single man. Via a series of coincidences, nonetheless or, perhaps at that point, he should be calling it ‘fate’. He was never meant to meet Neuvillette personally, let alone befriend someone of his magnitude. And yet, somehow... it happened. Everything did. And despite everything, Wriothesley wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I-I apologize... I’ve never come forward about it because well, for one, I wasn’t sure whether you remembered that time or whether you’d like to reminisce about it if you did... The second reason was... my guilt.” Neuvillette continued to explain, unprompted, before the other could choke out a word. It seemed that this was yet another thing that had been weighing on him for decades. “I’m aware I should’ve done more than that... for you and many others. I wasn’t able to. At the time, I was sincerely convinced that in order to maintain my impartiality and thus uphold the justice and fairness of the court, I should not interfere with any human affairs. Even the smallest gesture has the potential of triggering a lengthy chain reaction of consequences as... as we can see in this case. I did so little and yet, it was still a breach of the rules. But, to be completely clear: I do not regret it one bit.”

At long last, their eyes met again, and wouldn’t move from each other for a while. Neither of them dared to lift a finger, let alone say anything. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence by any means – it was a knowing one, as both of them began to settle into the new status quo.

“But... why? I don’t get it.” Wriothesley finally asked. “You’re not exactly known for feeding stray orphans and trust me, I’ve got some pretty decent sources on that. So... why me?”

The anxious, remorseful grimace slowly began to fade from the judge’s face and instead, the corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile. The tips of his rhinophores were twinkling brightly.

“Honestly, I... I couldn’t explain or justify it to you if I tried. I... I just saw you were suffering so much at no fault of your own and... I suppose you’ve always been my one and only exception, Wriothesley.”

His voice was gentle as ever, but his eyes had an odd, lively spark in them. Mischievous, even. Wriothesley wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it before, even when the mighty Hydro dragon was at his most playful.

A slight shudder went down his spine; all of the sudden, he felt just as small as he was back then, cowering at the back of an alley. His face might’ve even gone half a hue redder than usual.

He knew he needed to say something, it was just that... there were no words that could properly describe the amount of gratitude he had. For that. For everything else.

“Umm... t-thank you for not letting me starve, I guess. T-Two times in a row now, haha... hah...” He laughed stiffly in a poor attempt at a joke before digging into the remaining life-saving soup before it could get any colder. The spoon was no longer sufficient – he lifted the entire bowl and slurped straight from it, certainly not complaining about the sudden opportunity to hide his face behind it.

“Oh... of course, you’re welcome. I promise that now that I’ve come to realize so many things... you can count on me to be there anytime you need.”

As if he wasn’t already, Wriothesley thought.

Truth be told, the part of him that struggled with extending his trust towards others still harbored a few doubts. Could all of it – not just the incidents from the past, but the way they’d been unearthed on that very day, during an otherwise unremarkable date night, have really been a series of fortunate coincidences? The Chief Justice of Fontaine... was never one to speak of his feelings openly, despite the fact that he had a lot of them – he was bursting at the seams with them, even, and only occasionally would they leak out in the form of scarce tears. This bland but heartfelt consommé may as well have been made of them. The bowl before him was brimming with feelings, too.

Maybe that was why he was so excited about the idea of cooking together. Maybe, not knowing how else to express himself, Neuvillette resorted to the one gesture he did know. Maybe it was subconscious for him – and maybe, it had all been planned from the very beginning. Not that it mattered anymore, though.

Wriothesley thought he couldn’t possibly love him any more than he already did. Alas. That day had proved him wrong. Sometimes, with all those buried feelings and unspoken words, he found himself doubting, or perhaps ‘fearing’ would be the more accurate term. It might’ve just been why he’d spent the majority of that week trembling like a leaf, racking his brain in search of an impressive enough way to propose. After all, how could someone as beautiful and wonderful as Neuvillette have truly fallen for him?

But, in the end, it was entirely unnecessary. Surprise to no one – he was a moron.

Of course he didn’t need a fancy restaurant or a townhouse, or even his dukedom to impress him – Neuvillette had cared about him long before he had any of that. Frankly speaking, he only had any of these things because of his kindness, no – love, as contrived as that may have sounded in his head. It was true, though. He was only sitting there because of him, too. So maybe that was all he needed to be; just... alive.

As difficult as it was to believe, let alone accept, no one had ever had nor would ever love him as much as that strange, ancient dragon sitting in front of him. And gods be damned, would he stay loyal to him forever.

Finishing the soup, Wriothesley slammed the bowl back down on the table.

“Sheesh, I’m really gonna need you to marry me.”

And in turn, Neuvillette nearly shoved his right off it.

“Huh...? M-Marry...? What...?” His eyes suddenly widened to the size of Visions themselves. He’d never seen him so flustered, either. “W-Wait... What did you say? S-Surely I’ve misheard it... hah.”

Uh-huh. That was a good question, indeed: what the hell did he just say?

He was thinking about it but... he wasn’t going to... He didn’t want to blurt it out! What the fuck? He didn’t mean to say it like that at all!

Wriothesley’s eyes, on the other hand, nearly shot straight out of their sockets. Realizing his mistake, he rushed to stand up, knocking down the chair behind him, and ran towards Neuvillette, rummaging through his pocket in a hurry:

“Wait, wait, no, no, no, shi— That’s not— Wait, hold on, I can fix it, forget you heard anything!”

The other clearly wasn’t going to argue, seeing as he was still too stunned to speak.

As soon as he passed the table, Wriothesley dropped – no, plunged – down to one knee, cleared his throat, and presented him with the ring he thankfully still had on himself.

“W... Will you marry me, Neuvillette?” His teeth sank into his lip; it took everything he had in him not to accidentally blurt out ‘please’ while at it. He might’ve been a little pathetic, trying to court someone so out of his league like a fool, but he wasn’t that pathetic just yet.

He stared up at him with those blue, downturned eyes and furrowed brows, breathing slowly, as solemn as if he were waiting for a verdict, again. He was nothing if not patient. There were no wrong answers here, so there was nothing to worry about... at worst, one of them would send him straight into the depths of the Primordial Sea, at his own will, nonetheless.

Neuvillette stared right back at him with a deadpan face that brought ancient sculptures to mind. His lips were only slightly parted, unable to utter any of the words that had gotten lodged in his throat. He, too, was very patient. After all, he’d spent so many years waiting for Wriothesley to get a hint. Perhaps in some ways... he still was.

“W-Wait, please... Could you, possibly... actually... be talking seriously? Why, all of the sudden...?! How could you catch me so unprepared?!” As if the Duke was looking into a particularly flattering mirror, the Iudex’s brows had also weaved into a frown, much more severe than even his own. The former had no idea what might’ve triggered the upset reaction, but he wasted no time to calm him down:

“I-I wasn’t planning... Eh, I mean, I was, for a long time actually, but my plans have changed... a few times... err...”

His eyes drifted towards the walls, the ceiling, until finally settling on the floor. Neuvillette’s, meanwhile, stole a couple of wistful glances at the ring waiting before him. Silver – a controversial choice, but one that Wriothesley was confident in – with the most subtle ruby inset in the band, easy enough to hide beneath a glove. Depending on the answer, there would still come a time for a fancier, golden one.

He looked like he was considering it, at least... or maybe it was his draconic instinct longing to add the treasure to his hoard.

Wriothesley was starting to feel cold sweat drip down his collar; what was that about not needing to worry? Perhaps a better question would be: how long was it acceptable to wait in silence for before defenestrating himself promptly...

Finally, the judge budged, trying to conceal his flustered face behind his palm.

“I-I couldn’t go as far as lie that... the thoughts of... m-marriage have never crossed my mind... Only I’m not sure if I can, that is... whether someone like me would be allowed to...”

Although he tried to keep it slight, Wriothesley’s face lit up at the news; all hope hadn’t been lost yet. He, too, would be lying if he claimed he was expecting any sort of proposal to go as smoothly as those shown in romantic films. They had duties to fulfill, both of them, and it wouldn’t be an overstatement to say the fate of their entire nation depended on how well they performed their respective roles. Luckily, he’d come prepared for even the toughest of negotiations. Talking the old dragon into trying any new tricks had always been a process, one he was well acquainted with by now. They didn’t call him ‘shrewd’ for nothing.

“Hey, look at me. We don’t have to run to the altar first thing tomorrow morning, right? I know how important it is for you to stay impartial and I respect it, believe it or not. That said, I... I just don’t think being a little bit partial to one man is going to completely jeopardize that.” He heard the quietest of sighs escape Neuvillette’s lips, which made him reach for the other’s trembling hand. “How about you forget about everything else – for just a moment – and tell me as plain as possible: do you... want to marry me? ‘Cause I... ah, not to be sappy but honestly Neuvillette, I can’t imagine anything I’d rather do than spend the rest of my life with you.”

He flashed him his softest, most charming smile. That one had to work, right?

“Do I... want? I want... I...” Neuvillette mouthed emptily, still struggling to collect his scrambled thoughts. All of the sudden, something must’ve clicked in place – he jolted up and shook his head so fervently it’d made his ponytail bob side to side. “O-Of course I do! Who else if not you, Wriothesley? Why would you even feel the need to ask in such a formal manner... Um, not that I don’t appreciate it... very much... Ah!”

Wriothesley didn’t need to be told anything twice, ever; he slid the ring onto his finger with the swiftness of well-executed uppercut and jumped right up, pulling Neuvillette along with him. His newly crowned fiancé had only barely managed to hang onto his neck before he was swept off his feet and spun around in an enthusiastic embrace that eventually turned into a kiss.

He might’ve been right earlier – Wriothesley really wasn’t his usual self that day. All that stress and anticipation might’ve fried the boxer’s battered and bruised brain for good. Hell, it wasn’t that long ago that he watched his inmates’ wedding thinking he’d never fit into such an idyllic picture – much less with someone whom he so deeply respected. He just wouldn’t want to inflict himself upon anyone, to be honest... But that day, he felt almost intoxicated, and it seemed that the realization that someone could, in fact, look after him willingly and care unconditionally, might’ve been the final push he needed to throw himself off the deep end. Damn it, he was happy with his pretty, awkward, kind-hearted, terrifyingly powerful dragon who understood him like nobody else and for some reason, liked him, too. Call him decadent, but much like imported tea and fancy summer homes, he thought he’d grown enough to have a go at this elusive thing called ‘marriage’, too. Maybe it’d just work out for them.

He was so taken with celebration, in fact, that he nearly missed the tiny murmur that had emerged somewhere around his neck:

“Thank you... so much...”

“Hm? For what? I should be the one thanking you! For the rest of my life, honestly...”

Neuvillette shook his head, nuzzling against him with the tip of his nose.

“When I first assumed this form... I’d never thought that one day, someone would be able to understand my feelings... let alone return them so beautifully... I thought I should... express my gratitude.”

Tut, tut. He was avoiding his gaze again. It’d be nice if he didn’t. Wriothesley couldn’t remember the last time he looked at someone with so much disbelief – probably around the same time he’d last heard words such as these – which was never.

Enough of that. Enough of all of that.

Before the other could stop him, Wriothesley’s hands snuck onto his back and picked him up like a bride to be.

“Here goes the Chief Justice, overthinking things again...”

“W-Wrio— P-Put me down at once, we’re too old for such... foolishness!” He scoffed in all of his venerable glory, yet the all-powerful Sovereign did nothing to free himself from the pesky mortal’s grasp. “I still can’t understand what has even prompted this—“

“The soup.” He summed it up briefly. “The soup was really good.”

There was no more surprise in Neuvillette’s lilac eyes, only concern. He must’ve thought the other had lost it completely – his hand even clutched nervously onto the Duke’s shirt.

“...That good...?”

“Uh-huh. Yup. Simply delightful. I might be addicted... Guess you’re gonna have to cook it for me every day forever, now. Sorry.” He declared, not feeling sorry whatsoever, and began to march.

“G-Gladly... but—“ Neuvillette shot a nervous glance over his shoulder, peeking restlessly at the fruit of their labor, remaining mostly uneaten in the rapidly cooling pot. “W-We haven’t even finished it! Where are you going? Wriothesley!”

“Bedroom, my love – I told you I’m starving, haven’t I? Some cravings even the most hearty soup won’t help with, I’m afraid.”

It was widely known that the Chief Justice didn’t typically enjoy being disturbed during his meals, rare as they may be, but luckily for Wriothesley, he hadn’t yet gotten tired of making special exceptions for his sake.