Chapter Text
“Come join me for a drink,” Wriothesley said, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “It'll be fun.”
Neuvillette groaned in quiet protest as he donned the Fatui uniform Wriothesley had confiscated from some arrested Fatui men—the fabric stiff and unfamiliar against his skin, bearing the insignia of an organization he held in considerable contempt. He stared at the Duke judgmentally as the latter stood confidently in full Fatui Pyro Agent's regalia, smiling encouragingly while Neuvillette held a mask, the last piece of their decidedly undignified disguise.
“How are we gonna have fun in the city when people will be gawking at us?” Wriothesley had reasoned earlier, his logic infuriatingly sound. He had somehow managed to convince Neuvillette to go out for drinks and, more remarkably, had persuaded him to don the uniform as well. The only other person who could—and had more influence over the Iudex—was none other than Fontaine's former Archon, Lady Furina.
And Lady Furina was the sole reason why Neuvillette badly needed to unwind and drink.
She was the sole reason his chest ached with a dull, persistent pain that no amount of judicial deliberation could resolve—the sole reason he found himself staring at the rain-slicked windows of the Palais Mermonia at odd hours, wondering if she ever thought of him at all.
Once the two men had donned their disguises, they left the Palais Mermonia through the back exit and hit the streets. Just as Wriothesley said, no one was paying them any attention as they walked amongst the citizens. In fact, a lot of people even avoided them, which unnerved Neuvillette a little bit—though he supposed that was the point of wearing Fatui attire.
“I heard a new pub opened up in Fleuve Cendre,” Wriothesley said casually. “Let's check it out and see if they have any good booze.”
“Alright.”
A few minutes later, the two men were inside the pub. It was fairly new, the exterior hardly finished—outside paint incomplete and missing a signboard. Still, it was open to the public.
Neuvillette and Wriothesley strolled inside nonchalantly, earning a few disdainful looks on the way. The Duke led the Iudex to the bar and ordered two glasses of wine to start off the evening.
As the two men sat side by side, waiting for their drinks, they couldn't help overhearing snippets of what sounded like a serious discussion coming from a small group of customers behind them.
“She deserves to be happy on her own terms!” a gentleman with a mustache boomed, slamming his tankard against the round wooden table. His companions didn't seem bothered by the gesture, most staring seriously and some nodding in agreement. “I don't care if it means leaving her old life behind, I just want her to be happy!”
A hum of agreement drifted from most of his companions.
“I'm still devastated!” a woman echoed, her voice fragile and desperate as her fingers gripped her tankard. “I-It's just all too sudden!”
A younger man beside her sniffled. “I know!” His eyes were hot and glistening with tears, his cheeks flushed—either due to the alcohol or the subject of their conversation. “I can't believe this is the end…” Another sniffle. “The end for them! I-I just—”
“I can't accept it!” a young woman exclaimed, half rising from her seat. “It wasn't supposed to turn out like this!”
Wriothesley and Neuvillette exchanged glances while the bartender served them their drinks.
“Whoa, sounds like an intense discussion,” Wriothesley whispered, his interest piqued.
“Hmm.” Neuvillette nodded. He reached for his drink, bringing the glass to his lips. “I wonder what they are talking about?”
He took his first sip and then—
“Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette are supposed to be together forever!”
Neuvillette choked on his drink and spat it out. He tried to suppress his coughing, hoping not to attract the group's attention.
But all he could think of was that last sentence.
Did he hear it right?
“You okay, Neuvillette?” Wriothesley asked, more concerned for his friend than curious about what was just said.
“I'm fine, I—”
“It's over for them now!” an impassioned young man from the group said. “Lady Furina has left the Palais Mermonia and Monsieur Neuvillette!” He let out a miserable wail, dropping to the table to be consoled by his friends. “She's moving on from him! I mean—you've all seen how she's been living her life right now, right?”
A whine came from the woman earlier. “Ugh, it's been two years now! Two fucking years since we last saw them together. We've had two Fontinalia Film Festivals now—which she participated in, and I am happy for her in that regard—but no one has ever seen or heard them talk since then! Ugh, I feel so miserable.”
“Same here.”
“I wonder what happened between them?”
The volume of their chatter died down a little as the group exchanged theories.
Neuvillette composed himself, staring at his drink in pure bemusement.
Two years.
Two years since she had walked out of his life, leaving behind nothing but the faint scent of her perfume and the echo of her laughter in the marble halls of the Palais Mermonia. Two years since he had realized that whatever he felt for her was not reciprocated. Not in the way he desperately, pathetically wished it to be.
He had no idea that there were people talking about him and Furina like that. That there were strangers who wanted them to be together, who saw what he saw, who believed in a future that existed only in his most secret fantasies.
“Ah, those people—” the bartender suddenly spoke as he refilled Wriothesley's glass— “yep, they come here once a night every week to discuss the Iudex and the former Hydro Archon. Actually, they did that at a different tavern before. This pub was built by them just so they could have a place to… talk like that.” He gestured to the group where a few of its members were pathetically sobbing.
“They're… a strange bunch,” Wriothesley commented.
“Indeed,” Neuvillette said, though his voice carried a note of something wistful he couldn't quite suppress.
The bartender went on, “They actually call themselves the 'NeuviFuri' Fan Club—a little group dedicated to fantasizing about the romantic relationship between Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette.”
Wriothesley's face lit up with amusement while Neuvillette's turned crimson in embarrassment. But before either could say something, the bartender continued, “They've been miserable ever since Lady Furina retired from Archonhood, or as the NeuviFuri fans put it: 'divorced' from Monsieur Neuvillette.”
Wriothesley bit his lower lip to suppress his laughter.
Then their attention was pulled by the commotion from the so-called NeuviFuri fans.
“You know what? I am happy for Lady Furina! She deserves to be free and to be with someone better than that… that… lizard of a man!”
Neuvillette's jaw dropped at the insult.
He had been called many things over the centuries, but never a lizard. The absurdity of it momentarily overrode the ache in his chest.
“I heard a rumor that every time it rains in Fontaine, it's because the Iudex cries. And considering how many times it rains all year, I can say that the Iudex is a pretty pathetic man.”
Neuvillette's hands tightened around his glass.
Then another chimed in, “I share your sentiment. Lady Furina is far too beautiful and perfect to be with someone like him. She is way beyond his league!”
“Whoa, there, guys—I-I thought we want Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette to be together?”
“Calm down. They're just coping because Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette have been divorced for years and haven't interacted since then.”
“I agree. Anger and denial are the first stages of grief after all.”
Another bawled so loudly. “I don't care! I want them to be together again! My heart can't take it.”
“Their—” Wriothesley turned to the bartender— “discussions… sure are something.”
“The club's been around for decades, I hear,” the bartender shared. “Someone even says the club was formed centuries ago.”
Neuvillette arched a brow, his cheeks still warm. “Why would someone say or think that?”
The bartender shrugged. “I know it's hard to believe, but the club says they have 'ancient texts' containing details of Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette's relationship from a long time ago.” He paused, thinking. “I think it's just diaries and records of old club members—or maybe the founding members. Who knows.”
“You seem to know a lot about the club. Are you a member of the club, too, Monsieur?” Wriothesley ventured to ask.
The bartender went silent, his expression turning unreadable.
Neuvillette and Wriothesley exchanged glances again.
“Me? A member of the 'NeuviFuri' Fan Club?” the bartender said, his voice low and ominous.
And then—
“They wouldn't take me in the club!” he bawled, his eyes wide and glistening. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. “I showed them some stories I wrote about Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette and they said that they were too tacky! That my works are unrealistic and that Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette were out of character!”
He spun around and pulled some notebooks from the lower shelf and slammed them in front of Neuvillette and Wriothesley.
The Duke held back his laughter while Neuvillette stared mortified at the doodles in front of the notebooks.
Doodles of him and Furina kissing lewdly.
Heat flooded Neuvillette's face.
Then, the bartender flipped the pages, showing off his written works.
“This is the first story I ever wrote about them.” He pointed with his finger on the page. “Monsieur Neuvillette pining and yearning for his lady while it rains in Fontaine.”
Wriothesley chuckled softly. “I doubt that qualifies as 'out-of-character'.” He stared knowingly at his friend. “I, for one, can totally imagine the Iudex feeling as such, considering how long the two of them have known each other.” Wriothesley didn’t need to imagine it; he’d seen it firsthand.
The bartender nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. But this story's not the one they said where Neuvillette was 'out-of-character'.” He flipped through the pages, showing another story. “This! This is the one they didn't like.”
Neuvillette pulled the notebook closer to skim through the story.
And then his face erupted in crimson.
“This is—”
The bartender nodded smugly. “It's a smut story about Lady Furina and the Iudex!” He flipped to the next page. “I wrote here that the Iudex has some wild kinks and whatnot, because of course, as someone who has lived as long as they have, they wouldn't be into some plain boring vanilla stuff, right?”
“Right,” Wriothesley concurred, amused.
“And those fans said that my interpretation is entirely wrong! Pft, can you believe them? Do they think that Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette—who have been married for centuries—are prude and conventional? Especially in the bedroom?”
“I—” Neuvillette stopped himself from replying. His mind was still reeling from everything.
Afterwards, the bartender forced the two of them to listen to his reading of his 'NeuviFuri' stories, promising not to charge them.
But all Neuvillette could think about was shutting this place down the next morning, doing something about this matter before it could reach Furina.
“If she knew,” he thought, his face still burning. “If she knew that strangers wrote stories about us, that strangers wanted us to be together, that there were people who saw what I feel and believed it could be real...”
Would she laugh? Would she be horrified? Would she look at him differently, with pity in those beautiful eyes that saw through every mask he wore?
He couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear her pity, her awkwardness, her kindness that would only make the ache worse.
“I could charge him with possession of pornography,” Neuvillette mulled over as he read the very explicit stories with a serious face. The bartender was catering to another customer, leaving his materials with the Neuvillette and Wriothesley. “And perhaps throw him in jail while I… confiscate these materials.”
Wriothesley snorted. “You just want to keep them for yourself.”
“I—” Neuvillette's face flushed even darker. “That is not—”
“Sure, sure.” Wriothesley patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Monsieur Neuvillette.”