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She did it.
It took a monumental amount of childish pleading, the first deployment in four years of her Power Pout (a technique she'd perfected in her childhood designed to get what she wanted from the people who loved her), and a promise to commit to a ‘No-Fonta, Water-Only Week’ (“Sweetheart, I already said I will go. Please don’t deprive yourself of the things you love in order to appease me.”) but Neuvillette agreed.
“You're here!" Navia took small shuffling steps down the hill, meeting him halfway as he trudged through the knee-high snow, looking breathtakingly handsome in a winter coat and moonlight. She threw her arms around him and he caught her with a gentle laugh.
They were at a nameless area just north of the Research Institute. Covered in white she almost couldn’t recognize the place, but she recognized some nearby ruins as the one where monsters and treasure hoarders often flocked. She could only imagine the fun Wriothesley and Clorinde had clearing them out earlier on the way to hers and Neuvillette’s destination.
Soft pink dusted his cheeks as he surveyed their surroundings. "I am indeed. To have a... snowball fight." He spoke the words carefully, like they were words in a foreign language he didn't want to mispronounce. Snowball fights were one of those “human things” he’d always harbored apprehension for — one of those small, inconsequential acts which provided no benefit besides a moment of joy.
Fortunately for Neuvillette, she'd prepared a pitch to make the concept of snowball fights not only more familiar, but enticing to a man like him.
She donned her best smile.
“Did you know that snowball fights are like the opera?”
He perked up. “The opera?”
“Yes. And like many operas, drama," she made a half-circle gesture in the air with her hands, "is the hallmark of a good snowball fight. Plot twists, elaborate battles, tragedy, vengeance — all of it. Drama is good. Drama is your friend tonight.”
The sparkle of interest shone brighter in his eyes with every word and she resisted giving herself a pat on the back. You're an unmitigated genius, Navia. You're speaking fluent Neuvillettian.
"As for the technical bits: there are no regulations for the size or shape of your snowballs, but it is against the rules to use anything other than snow to attack."
"Understood. Snow only.”
Navia smiled and kissed the corner of his lips. "Thank you for coming. I know you must be tired." He'd just retired from a ten-hour trial, after all. But snow visited the northernmost area of Fontaine only once a year, and really, what was she meant to do when he’d confessed to never having experienced a snowball fight in his life?
Neuvillette shook his head, regarding her with such warmth she was half-tempted to cancel their plans altogether so they could spend the evening cozied up in bed. "When it comes to matters of your joy, exhaustion is but stray lint on my robes."
She snorted. "But your robes never have lint on them."
"Precisely."
Then without warning, Neuvillette swept an arm underneath her knees and hoisted her up, making her squeal and squeak out his name. Smiling with satisfaction, he held her against his chest as he continued up the hill.
“Oh look, they’re here — argh!”
”Ah. Sorry.”
Wriothesley wrinkled his nose at Clorinde who didn’t sound sorry at all. Her snowball had struck the small window of exposed skin at his chest. Despite his Vision working to protect him from the biting chill in his everyday clothes, it didn’t prevent the pain of quite possibly one of the physically strongest women alive hitting him with a snowball.
He should have worn a scarf or kept his coat. Not that he’d dream of asking for it back, he thought, admiring the way the heavy garment always attached to his back fell almost to Clorinde’s knees, their sleeves swallowing her limbs all the way past her fingertips. She’d had to push them up her arms whenever they were in the middle of a battle but now she was pushing them back down, her hands hidden again as she watched Navia and Neuvillette approach with cool regard.
Wriothesley crossed the space until he was standing beside her.
“Is he actually carrying her?” He snorted with just enough levity on top of the condescension to indicate he was merely jesting. “Is she injured? Surely not. How unnecessary.”
“Hm,” was her only response.
Strange.
Clorinde was taciturn by default, and he’d taken delight in learning the many meanings of her silences. From the blank stare she leveled him with to express concern because he’d been working well past midnight, or the heavy sigh of relaxation she’d breathe on his chest when they had plans to lie in the next day, or the curt clearing of her throat when she wanted to spar. Context cues helped a lot with interpreting these silences, but this was the first time they were in a double date situation.
He decided to let it go, concluding that she must be feeling awkward knowing in less than a minute she would be throwing snowballs at her boss.
According to Navia, the evening’s flow was simple: it would be a battle of the couples. Those were the exact words she used and Wriothesley wasn’t embarrassed at how enticing he found the idea of going on a double date where he and Clorinde could pummel their friends (figuratively) into the snowy dirt with their impeccable teamwork and natural harmony as a unit. The Court of Fontaine may be enamored by the charming romance between the Chief Justice and the Spina di Rosula’s president, but as far as Wriothesley was concerned, only the deepest chambers of Meropide have borne witness to Fontaine’s love for the ages.
Still, Navia also made it clear that their statuses would be meaningless today and any injuries sustained (to the body or to the ego) would remain between them as friends.
He nudged Clorinde with his elbow, leaning down with a grin.
“Ready to destroy them?”
A beat. She glanced sidewards at him, then back to Neuvillette and Navia right as Navia giggled at something, before looking at Wriothesley again.
His grin faltered.
“Is everything alright?” He examined her head to toe. “Are you hurt anywhere? Do we need to go home?”
Her jaw clenched before she looked away. ”No.”
He traced her line of sight which again fell on their friends as they drew closer. They don’t seem to have spotted him and Clorinde yet, utterly immersed in each other’s eyes or whatever rot, but a light sparked in his head as he finally understood the source of Clorinde’s odd behavior.
Or so he believed.
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” he muttered next to her ear. “But that’s how we’ll win. They’ll be too busy making kissy faces and cuddling each other to even dream of beating us. Cuddling for goodness’s sake. What a waste of time.”
“Hm.”
“Chin up, Clorinde. Doesn’t the thought of it make you want to laugh?“
”The thought of what, exactly?”
“Us doing that. Me carrying you up and down a hill for no reason.” She was after all, the strongest woman he knew. If anything, it would be more fitting if she carried him and he would happily be paraded around draped across her arms.
The image made him chuckle, until he realized Clorinde was pinning him with a withering glare.
“You find it laughable then, that I would wish to be carried over a hill for no reason?”
He blinked.
“What?”
“Hey, you two!” Navia waved as she and Neuvillette came to a stop several paces away. Neuvillette set her back on her feet, patting away wrinkles that didn’t exist from her clothes, before they immediately tangled themselves into an embrace like two codependent squids. They watched him and Clorinde with curiosity.
Wriothesley could hardly spare them a heartbeat of attention, however.
Clorinde clicked her tongue, and he realized with dawning horror that she only made that sound whenever he did something stupid. His dreams of a flawless partnership with Clorinde — of them dominating the battlefield — began to crumble.
He gulped as she stared him down, her eyes tracing over his body like she was assessing the slowest way to butcher him. He'd feel more comfortable with her gun loaded and digging between his brows.
When she spoke again, her voice was colder than the air.
"I was unaware that my favorite pastime has been such a detestable ordeal to you this entire time. My apologies, Your Grace," Clorinde said lowly. "All those hours I’ve spent indulging myself in your arms… I suppose I'll just have to make sure you're physically incapable of being inconvenienced in such a way — ever again."
Neuvillette silently mourned the inevitable passing of his friend.
Wriothesley paled, shuffling forward and backwards in an indecisive waltz, as though he wanted to prove Clorinde wrong by scooping her up for the coziest, longest, most indulgent cuddle session recorded in Teyvat's history, and run for his life at the same time.
Clorinde suddenly snapped her gaze towards him and Navia.
"Untangle yourselves at once," she barked. "Navia, you're with me. Neuvillette..." She passed a steely look over Wriothesley before swinging her gaze back to Neuvillette. "Do your best to protect the duke, won't you? I would hate for him to get hurt too badly."
Everybody present was aware that Clorinde would love nothing more than to slaughter the Duke, yet she still didn't wish true harm to befall him.
That's it, that's the drama, a giddy whisper which sounded like Navia said in his mind.
Love was such a curiosity. Snowball fights even more so.
Still, Neuvillette didn’t want to be on opposing sides with Navia on his first snowball fight. He was just tightening his hold on her in protest when she pulled back and wagged a finger at Neuvillette's face with a cocky grin. "Don't think I'll go easy on you just because this is your first time."
Neuvillette blinked at the digit that was centimeters away from his mouth and met her eyes before gently kissing her gloved fingertip. Color filled her cheeks and a croak left her mouth.
Trying to conceal his disappointment, he whispered, “Will we be on the same side later?”
“Perhaps,” she whispered back.
Then she ran off to join Clorinde who was already building a wall of snow across the small field, leaving him with his new teammate as he sank slowly to the ground, slumped on the snow, looking like a freshly kicked puppy. Around them, the snow was uneven, raised into tiny hills or fortified into defensive barriers, erratic lines telling the tale of Wriothesley and Clorinde’s battle before he and Navia were there.
Wriothesley let out a distressed sound as Neuvillette stood next to him.
”I don’t understand why she’s mad at me.”
Neuvillette tilted his head, replaying the tail end of Wriothesley and Clorinde’s conversation. His enhanced dragon hearing could only gather fragments of it, but he recalled picking up the word “cuddling” followed by a derisive scoff, and Clorinde saying something about being carried up a hill. He didn’t know much about the personal preferences of Fontaine’s most formidable Champion Duelist, but he had it on Navia’s good authority that Clorinde was secretly affectionate.
“Could it be that Clorinde is feeling cuddle hungry?”
Wriothesley blinked at him like he started speaking backwards.
“She what now?”
”It happens to Navia sometimes. In fact that’s what she calls it. She lets me know when she’s craving affection and so I give her what she needs until she’s satisfied. Perhaps Clorinde is experiencing a similar deficiency?”
Wriothesley stared at him for a moment before realization dawned. “Shit, Neuvillette. You might be right.”
”Did you say something pig-headed about cuddling to her?”
He nodded with a grimace.
Then, with alarming vividness, a storyline unwound itself in Neuvillette’s mind. He may not be as skilled as Furina when it comes to constructing a story, but there may be a way he could utilize drama to return himself to Navia’s side whilst also providing reconciliation to Wriothesley and Clorinde. He will have to improvise, but with the key plot points planted in his mind, nothing could stop him from finding an opening to carry them out.
"Please protect me," Wriothesley whispered, fear swimming in his eyes. "I can throw a snowball like a gun can shoot a bullet, but Clorinde... she dodges them like they're floating Anemo slimes. And I don't know how she does it but her snowballs are so compacted I think she could break a civilian's bones through five layers of clothing."
Neuvillette nodded. "Don't fret. I am not without my strengths. I may be new to this snowy battlefield, but I am well versed in the strategies of our opponents."
The other man nodded gratefully, a teary smile breaking his lips as he hauled himself to his feet. "You have my gratitude. You see, back home, there's a woman who loves me — I think. And it's of the utmost importance that I get back to her by the end of tonight." He threw a sideways glance at the women across them, huddled together and gesticulating in discussion of their battle plan. Wriothesley spoke louder, emphasizing every word, "Do you understand, Monsieur? There's a woman I love, and I'd like to go home with her in one piece so that we may cuddle for a very long time. I will even take a day off for it."
Clorinde dismissed this entirely, and while Navia threw an amused smile in their direction, Clorinde snapped her fingers and Navia redirected her attention at once.
Teyvat slumbered peacefully that night. Save for a snowy hill on the outskirts of Fontaine, where a war swung in full force.
Fighting was clunky at first. It turned out Wriothesley’s teammate, the most powerful man in Fontaine, had nonexistent aim and a compulsion for creating perfectly spherical snowballs. But when Navia hit the side of Neuvillette's face with a cackle, he became as viciously productive as the machines in the Fortress. Each snowball was imbued with Neuvillette's desire for victory and vengeance for his slighted face — even though his arm always drifted just so the snowball would fly towards the general space around Navia and miss hitting the target herself.
Wriothesley didn't think Neuvillette was aware he was doing this.
He himself wasn't having much luck landing a hit on Clorinde either. But his wasn't for lack of trying.
Only ten minutes had passed since the snowball fight had commenced but Wriothesley could already feel a dozen bruises blooming all over his body, unable to slip in a throw without taking a hit every time he left the safety of their defensive hill. (Although funnily enough, his face remained unscathed.)
The battle continued until finally, miraculously, Wriothesley landed a hit on Clorinde's shoulder. He reveled in the indignant surprise in her eyes before she pitched a snowball at him. He raised his arms to shield his head, but felt only a soft gust of wind blowing on his left ear. He opened his eyes, saw Clorinde's face, and laughed in disbelief.
She missed.
Exhaustion was upon them, but this tiny victory pumped Wriothesley's system with fresh adrenaline. He smirked.
"Forfeit, Clorinde, and I'll keep quiet about your rusty aim —"
He ducked as a snowball roughly the speed of light whistled over his head.
"Don't test me, Duke." Clorinde assailed their barrier with three solid hits. "I also own knives, and I know where you keep your tea bags."
It’s been years since Wriothesley has properly felt cold, but Clorinde’s words struck him like frostbite.
Crouched behind their snow wall, Wriothesley turned to Neuvillette, betrayal and outrage simmering in his chest.
"Did she just threaten to destroy my tea?"
Neuvillette raised a shoulder and his indifference lit a fuse in Wriothesley.
“I'm certain Clorinde meant no true harm—“
He bared his teeth. "Bullshit."
Navia’s head snapped up and she gaped at Clorinde.
“Did you just threaten to destroy his tea?"
"I did."
"That’s pretty serious, don't you think? Imagine if I threatened to spike Neuvillette's Inazuman water collection with Fonta and Snezhnayan vodka."
Clorinde hummed. "Let's just say Wriothesley should consider himself lucky."
"What for?"
There was a beat of silence. Then, Clorinde’s nostrils flared as she glared at Navia, pink dusting her cheeks.
"I will eliminate you if you tell anyone. Even Neuvillette."
Navia raised both hands. "I promise I won't tell."
Clorinde stared her down before gazing across the hill again, holding out a hand for Navia to supply her with a snowball.
“I have a weakness,” she said quietly, “for the smile he makes when I brew us tea."
A dangerous energy emanated from the man before him. Neuvillette held his breath as Wriothesley rose to his feet, somehow dodging snowball after snowball as they shot past him. Then he extended an open palm and Neuvillette provided him with ammunition.
"Nobody, and I mean nobody, has ever been permitted to touch my tea," Wriothesley said, his voice echoing across the clearing. "No one but me...." His eyes softened. "And you, Clorinde."
Neuvillette nearly missed how he stealthily slipped in the words, "And also Sigewinne," for a gust of wind chose that opportune moment to blow.
"Yet you openly admit your willingness to betray that trust. It pains me to say this," Wriothesley clawed a hand over his chest, his face twisting in anguish, "but even you must pay the price!"
Neuvillette stole a glance at his Vision which now shone in a blinding pale blue, then at the snowball in Wriothesley's grasp now encased in a shell of smooth Cryo.
He frowned, standing slowly. "Wriothesley, be careful with that."
But Wriothesley had already taken aim.
Navia hummed in concentration, patting the entire surface of The Great Cuddle as she garnished it with the finishing touches — two oval indents for eyes, snowflakes on its cheeks, and a crown of big spikes. She moved back and her chest swelled with pride at the oversized fruit of her labor.
"Behold, The Great Cuddle," she whispered-shouted, grinning at Clorinde's back as her friend listened to Wriothesley's monologue, tossing and catching a snowball.
Clorinde glanced backwards and nodded. "Good work."
"Time to end this, then. I’m counting on you to keep them distracted.”
Hauling The Great Cuddle into her arms, Navia rose steadily to her feet. So suffused with satisfaction at completing their killer weapon and being one step closer to being on the same team as Neuvillette again, she failed to realize that she'd left the safety of their snow wall. She also didn’t notice Wriothesley poising to strike.
Navia snickered at the mental image of Neuvillette covered head to toe in snow, his eyes wide and jaw hanging, caught unawares by her attack from above. He would look devastatingly handsome in his disheveled winter clothes, snow on his lashes and the tip of his nose, and then he’d smile and pull her close and tell her it was a pleasure to be defeated at her hands, and —
Oh no.
She was getting cuddle hungry.
What came after happened too fast.
"Navia, get down!"
One moment she was turning her head at the sound of her name — then stars were dancing behind her lids as pain exploded on her face. Groaning lowly, she sank to her knees, keeping The Great Cuddle intact and letting it slide out of her arms before collapsing sidewards on the ground.
Blinking her eyes open, she spotted a puddle of red in her periphery, standing out like a beacon against the snow, before she closed her eyes again.
A frantic voice cried out her name from a distance, followed by swiftly approaching footsteps.
Her heart jumped, recognizing Neuvillette's subtle springwater scent.
In one fluid motion, his arms gathered her against her chest and he cradled her there, Hydro energy washing over her face and easing the pain. A silky material wiped at the blood on her upper lip as he murmured words of comfort, and she responded with a wincing smile. The practiced ease with which she fit into the warm crevices of his body and the way he tended to her filled her with satisfaction, and she found that she wouldn't mind staying this way for another minute or two.
Navia sank into him, letting her body relax, waiting for the pain to ebb.
Navia's head lolled against his chest. Thankfully she hadn't lost consciousness, but the sight of her so vulnerable summoned flames within Neuvillette. The more sensible chamber of his brain told him this was only a minor injury and that Navia was merely playing into the more “dramatic” aspects of a snowball fight. But when he drew away his handkerchief and saw the smears of Navia's blood on the ivory cloth, that crimson dominated his vision until it was all he could see.
Somebody was responsible for this.
Her blood did not spill of its own accord.
He tapped into his ancient draconic powers and breathed in the scent of snow, her Marcotte perfume, and the iron tang of her blood.
If drama was what his Navia desired, then he shall deliver to the best of his abilities.
A price must be paid, and he would not be a merciful collector.
He's holding her like an arrow is buried in her chest, Clorinde thought wryly. A broken nose, though indeed painful, was an easy fix once subjected to the care of a healer.
Neuvillette laid Navia behind a nearby defensive wall, unraveling his scarf and shedding his coat. He rolled the former into a pillow and spread out the latter into a temporary protection against the ground’s coldness.
"Is she all right?" Clorinde asked. It was a perfunctory question, seeing as Navia was clearly stifling a smile as Neuvillette fussed over her.
This, she would realize in two seconds, was a mistake.
Because Neuvillette had murder in his eyes. Dark, stormy eyes which now bore into Clorinde's as though she was responsible for Navia's current state. Her instincts screamed at her to reach for her pistol under his mercurial scrutiny.
Neuvillette's voice was dangerously low. "If you care for your duke at all, I will allow you ten seconds to join his side. After that —" His irises flashed silver, his teeth sharpening into fangs. "Justice will be served."
Clorinde crossed the field immediately, brushing her hand against Wriothesley's arm as they stood shoulder to shoulder. They watched Neuvillette as he counted down from ten at a tantalizing speed, his hair billowing with the snow as spinning rings of Hydro encircled him in crisscrossing patterns.
Wriothesley rolled his eyes.
"Why does he have to be so dramatic? I wanted to check on Navia too but he practically hissed at me to stay away from her." His tone was disgruntled but Clorinde saw the frissons of anxious tension running up his forearms and ticking the vein at the base of his neck.
Then she recalled a conversation she had with Navia earlier that afternoon. Something about likening snowball fights to the opera.
Clorinde pinched the bridge of her nose and didn’t dare to speculate how Navia described snowball fights to Neuvillette.
Instead, she placed a hand on Wriothesley’s shoulder and squeezed it.
"You would do the same for me," she said. It wasn't a question.
He sighed and shot her a smile. She was right. And she'd do the same for him.
Across them, the twin blue antennae on Neuvillette’s head were now glowing a bright cerulean as he counted.
"Three."
"You got our battle plan down?" he asked, encasing his forearms with jagged Cryo and shifting into an offensive stance.
"Two."
Tapping into her Electro powers, she nodded, sparks crackling within her palms, and spoke in unison with Neuvillette.
"One."
They surged forward to meet Neuvillette in an explosion of elemental energy.
Blues and violets.
Navia's eyes snapped open as a wave of elemental energy crashed over her, the crackle of it stinging her cheeks through the haze of pain in her nose. Forcing herself to sit, her eyes widened as bright sparks of Cryo and Electro twisted together in the middle of the field, arcing ferociously with Clorinde and Wriothesley's movements as they advanced on Neuvillette, powdery clouds of snow flying in their wake. Navia swallowed a scream when Neuvillette didn't dodge. Instead, he held his ground against the onslaught of superconductive reactions, conjuring a barrier of Hydro around him. Then raising one arm, the snow around his feet warped into dozens of dagger-shaped projectiles, and with a downward slash of his arm, they zoomed towards their two targets.
Wriothesley summoned a wall of ice, which turned out to be exactly what Neuvillette wanted.
They were all firsthand witnesses to Clorinde's prowess on the battlefield. In one of Furina's more ambitious exhibitions of Fontaine's extravagance, Clorinde had volunteered herself as a target for the Special Security and Surveillance Patrol department — Chevreuse included — and evaded a rainstorm of bullets with lightning-speed and agility.
In other words, she wasn't the type to hide behind a shield.
But she wasn't being fired at by professional marksmen. She was at the mercy of a Dragon Sovereign. An enraged one.
It took only one strike against Clorinde's back to send her crashing to the ground. With an anguished cry of her name, Wriothesley abandoned his place behind the ice and in a move which made Navia experience a strange sense of deja vu, he gathered Clorinde into his arms, gently brushing the hair from her face.
Another wave of Neuvillette's power pulsed through the air as he slowly rose to the sky. Above them, an azure circle of light and runic characters slowly expanded. The snow on the ground and the snowflakes falling around them glowed as they rose to the center of the circle, converging and taking shape —
Navia's eyes widened.
It was a massive broadsword. The kind used in executions from centuries past.
And it was aimed directly at Wriothesley.
Neuvillette surveyed the field with a giddy feeling in his chest. Everything was falling into place.
Was this what healing one’s inner child felt like?
He observed Wriothesley clutching Clorinde against his body, rather proud that he’d managed to mend their lovers’ spat and that his friend was now freely cuddling Clorinde as per her wishes. He was even brushing his thumb over Clorinde’s cheek and murmuring what Neuvillette assumed was sweet but pained reassurances to avenge Clorinde’s injury.
He suppressed a satisfied smile, and hoped that Navia was sufficiently entertained.
”I’m going to kill him for doing this to you. I’m going to drag him by his shit robes to Meropide and throw him in the dirtiest, most heavily rat-infested cell in fucking Fontaine—“
Clorinde chose to not point out that Wriothesley had done a rather good job at reforming the living conditions in the Fortress, and that there was, in fact, not a single rat-infested cell there.
”— drink tea and eat crackers while I watch the rats chew his hair —“
Navia staggered to her feet.
From high up, Neuvillette’s eyes locked with hers and the molten silver within them softened as he drank her in, looking relieved that she was standing again. She wanted to calm him down by calling his name in that gentle way that always made him curl deeper into her embrace at night, and she’d just opened her mouth to speak when a fresh trickle of blood dripped down her nose.
Darn it.
His nostrils flared as fury slammed back into his expression. His focus returned to — apparently slaughtering Wriothesley.
The glowing ring overhead pulsed with fresh power, expanding to cover the entire hill. Dozens of smaller swords materialized around it, white and sharp, and all pointed at Wriothesley.
"Are you insane?" Wriothesley shouted, throwing up a dome of ice. When he realized Neuvillette wouldn’t listen, he looked imploringly at her. "Navia, do something about — that!" He jabbed a finger in Neuvillette's direction.
"Do not speak her name!" Neuvillette thundered. A number of swords shot down, shattering against Wriothesley’s ice dome.
A part of her was dazed.
Neuvillette had always kicked up a fuss whenever she came home with a wayward injury, if not scratches from tussles with criminals, then from spontaneous fights with Abyssal monsters. Although he was working on his overprotectiveness, mostly a byproduct of his draconic instincts, she supposed suffering a nosebleed as a direct result of his own friend’s actions hit a particularly sensitive nerve.
Still it was breathtaking, witnessing his love for her with her own eyes.
Unfortunately, it was also a touch too dramatic.
Was this because of her opera pitch?
Navia grimaced and pinched the space between her brows.
Oh, sweet Hydro Dragon, it was.
She foresaw a conversation with Neuvillette about taking things too literally. For now, she had to act quickly before their friends got pulverized.
Her gaze landed on The Great Cuddle, still in perfect condition to accomplish its purpose. She ran towards it, heaved it into her arms, and imbued it with an armor of Geo.
Neuvillette's circle flashed again, brighter now. Clorinde had left Wriothesley's embrace and Electro crackled around them as they stood side by side in complementary defensive stances.
The smaller swords rained down like arrows. Clorinde leaped into the air and parried them, the snow swords disintegrating in the thunderbolts she left in her wake, moving so fast she was only a blur of light. Like a gigantic spiderweb of Electro being woven in an instant. Meanwhile, Wriothesley was encasing his fists in jagged blocks of Cryo. With powerful punches, he launched the ice towards Neuvillette, scattering Neuvillette’s focus as he was forced to either dodge or divide his energy to conjure a shield.
From the corner of her eye, Navia saw Neuvillette's face darkening with irritation before raising his vacant hand.
She summoned all her strength, focusing on the tip of the broadsword in the sky, squinting her eyes as the circle glowed almost blindingly —
Neuvillette's hand came down.
— and she hurled The Great Cuddle directly into the broadsword's path.
It was like a blue shooting star colliding with a golden meteor. There was a blinding light, followed by a powerful blast of wind that nearly knocked her off her feet. She shielded her eyes as cold air lashed at her face, and when she looked up again, a hundred Crystallize shards hung in the air, casting a soft blue glow on the hill.
Neuvillette whipped around and the remaining swords in the sky pointed at Navia. His eyes were focused, his hand raised and ready to attack again. When he realized Navia would be at the receiving end of the onslaught, the swords crumbled into shapeless snow and fell to the ground in heaps. His expression went from intense self-loathing at the realization that he had pointed numerous sharp objects at her, to confusion.
"Navia?” He disappeared in a flash of blue light and reappeared directly before her. “Why did you intervene? We were about to win."
"Win?" she shrieked. "You were about to kill them!"
He frowned. "No, I wasn't."
“Then what was that gigantic sword for? And all the smaller ones that were trying to hit Clorinde? The air is so thick with your power I feel like I’ve been swallowed by a Hydro slime.”
With every word his bewildered expression intensified.
"Was this not the point? The tragedy of your injury resulting in my bloodthirsty quest for vengeance?"
“What."
"Did you not describe snowball fights as ordeals of immense drama? Of tragedy and revenge?"
Her jaw went slack. "That was an exagerrated explanation."
"But I wasn't actually going to kill them, my dear."
"Then what in Teyvat is that?" She stabbed her finger towards the glowing circle in the sky.
"Theatrics," Neuvillette answered, as though she’d asked him what her own name was. "I was hoping you would appreciate it. I presumed that switching sides in order to avenge one's beloved was the perfect opportunity to enhance the snowball fight's drama. Perhaps I miscalculated." His lips pursed into a thin line. "I fear I’ve ruined the evening. Forgive me."
Neuvillette spoke with a straight face, but she knew if he were a dog his tail and ears would have been drooping.
Curses. Even staying exasperated with him was difficult.
She sighed and brushed the hair away from his face, trying not to smile at how he looked like a guilty kid with how he avoided her eyes before pulling him in for a hug. He immediately twined his arms around her waist and buried his face into her neck.
"It's all right, Neuvillette. Thank you for thinking of me." She peppered him with compliments, assuring him that misunderstandings happened to everyone and that she shouldn't have leaned too hard on the drama in her explanation. As they fell into silence, Navia glanced at Clorinde and Wriothesley.
The latter was fussing with the former's scarf, both unharmed but with Wriothesley looking a lot more harried than Clorinde. How did she even come out through that blast unscathed?
"Still,” she said, “I don't think it was clear to us that you were only playing pretend.”
Neuvillette pulled away and cocked his head.
"Is that so? I was under the impression that I’ve done Wriothesley a favor. Clorinde’s not mad at him anymore, is she?"
”Yes. Because they couldn’t tell if you were sending them to an early grave.”
His mouth twitched into a petulant pout before he cleared his throat. “Be that as it may, I do believe you and I won this round. They resorted to using their Visions to attack first, thus breaking the rules, thus disqualifying them. We won."
A laugh escaped her. She never knew how much a man such as Neuvillette bothered with the semantics of something as trivial as a snowball fight. Though she supposed if she cared about something, so would he. Affection warmed her chest as she grinned at him.
"I'm sorry to break the news to you, Monsieur, but I do believe you broke the rules first. I don't know if you noticed but—" she gestured to the sky "—you made all the snow clouds disappear using your literal ancient dragon powers."
"Ah, but everything I used to attack were all technically made of snow." His smile was full of smug satisfaction. It was the kind of smile that made Navia wonder if, in another life where he wasn't ordained by greater powers to be the highest judge, he could have lived a fulfilled life as an unknown yet successful attorney. "The rules presented before the match stipulated that only snow is to be used as weapons. It never said anything about the modification of snow."
Navia laughed, took his face in her hands, and kissed his cheek. "Silly dragon."
"Am I wrong?"
"No. I think you're completely right."
A few moments earlier
Navia's Geo-infused snowball soared towards Neuvillette's dramatic monstrosity of a sword, colliding with a powerful, staggering shockwave. A snowy blast of wind lashed at Wriothesley's face.
"Clorinde!" he yelled as the force of the explosion knocked her back in midair, and for a terrifying moment, it looked like her body had gone limp, plummeting head-first to the ground. But as he chased her falling form, Clorinde — his brilliant, capable Clorinde — rotated her body and landed on her feet.
A hush fell over the field. Hundreds of blue diamonds bobbed gently in the air and illuminated the field in soft light. The snow clouds sacrificed in the name of Neuvillette's revenge were gone, revealing a starry sky.
Some distance away, Neuvillette and Navia were having an argument he couldn't hear and didn't care to listen to. He rushed towards Clorinde who was fixing her hair as though nothing more than a strong breeze had ruffled it. Their eyes met for half a second before he barreled into her, clutching her tightly against his chest and burying his face into her bonnet. She patted his back.
"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling away to adjust her scarf. She shivered in response and for a frustrating moment, he wished he could summon Pyro so he could restore warmth into her skin.
"Don't look so worried." Clorinde looked at him oddly. "Are you okay?"
Good question. Thirty seconds ago, I thought Neuvillette was going to kill you and that I'd have to kill him and probably Navia too in the most violent murder that was and ever will be recorded in Fontainian history. You know. Because your life is worth more to me than anyone else's. Then I'd have to change my identity and live the rest of my life traveling across Teyvat as a nameless bandit, carrying only your gun, a broken heart, and a bounty on my head until a wild boar runs into me and I die.
Or maybe I'll skip all that and throw myself off Romaritime Harbor instead.
"I'm fine," said Wriothesley.
"Good to know." She stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders. "That was at least a decent warmup."
He laughed, manically. "I'm sorry. Warmup?"
She held up a hand, indicating him to wait as she called out to the other pair.
Neuvillette and Navia had shifted from whatever conversation they were having into hugging again, and they didn’t break their hold on one another as their heads turned in sync at Clorinde’s voice.
Wriothesley observed them with an odd twinge in his chest.
He didn’t know how they did it. How Neuvillette and Navia hugged in a way that made you think they were meant to exist with their limbs around each other’s bodies. Like they were salt and pepper shakers. Or the meeting point between the sky and the ocean.
"We're done here. Wriothesley and I are going home."
Home. Yes. That was what started all this, wasn't it? Wanting to go home with her.
Wriothesley hoped the smile on his face didn't look too stupid. She wanted to go home with him too.
Another surge of the strange sensation inside his ribs washed over him, and he nearly staggered when he identified the weird feeling inside him as being — oh Archons he didn’t know it was contagious — cuddle hungry.
Navia waved cheerfully at them. "Thanks for the game, you two. Good night!"
Neuvillette on the other hand, wasn’t avoiding their gaze so much as he seemed to be distracted by his own thoughts, his thumb brushing back and forth on Navia’s back. Navia nudged him and he blinked as though snapped from a trance.
“Ah. Yes. Good night,” he said, before redirecting his attention back to Navia and they disappeared into their little world.
Clorinde watched them for a lingering moment, and Wriothesley wanted to hit himself.
It was all quite obvious, wasn’t it? What Clorinde wanted from the beginning.
“Let’s go,” she was starting to say when he moved forward in two swift strides and he scooped her up from the ground. She made a tiny eep sound which he will cherish in his memories until the day he dies, and he adjusted his hold on her so the crook of her knees comfortably slotted against the bend of his arm. Her arms wrapped around his neck instinctively.
”What are you doing?” She did a spectacular job keeping her voice stern, but he was close enough to hear the breathiness in it.
He grinned at her. “Carrying you over a hill. What else?”
For a moment she looked like she might protest, but instead she looked away and said, “Very well then.”
"Thought so.”
He began their trek back up the hill, noticing that the snow clouds have returned and tiny flakes were falling all around them again. On a different evening this would have made him walk faster. But with Clorinde pressed against his chest and her head resting on his shoulder, he found himself wanting to admire the scenery for just a little longer.