Work Text:
Nothing but the sound of graphite scratching over paper.
It was almost soothing, he had to admit. The harsh tip running over once damp material, tracing every wave and imperfection in the surface. Wriothesley doubted that there was a single sheet in Fontaine left untouched in the great flood.
There his mind went again, to that god forsaken day. It could've turned out worse, he thought, if it had truly been Primordial water to crash upon the nation. Instead of being dissolved, those who weren't visionholders just got to drown naturally.
With a wry chuckle at his own thoughts, he looked back down at the document lying idly on his desk. So many people were saved, be it by finding a lone ship to seek refuge on or with the help of others, but the nation was still facing total disstruction. It had come as a mild surprise to him that many of the Court's buildings were already built with the intention to keep large masses of water out in mind, dating several hundred years back. Still, those less fortunate had entire homes crashing under the weight of water damage, not to mention the state of public domain. As Fontaine was in the motions of being rebuilt, many of the displaced citizens were taken under the wing of the Palais Mermonia or the Fortress itself, something he had agreed to given the fact that they weren't particularly crowded after the disaster.
Wriothesley let his hands slide over his face was a groan of sheer exhaustion. His fingertips prickled with the sensation of stubble, having fought its way back after the most recent, admittedly half-assed, attempt at shaving. The clothes he was wearing could use a good washing too, but... there were papers looking to be updated and he couldn't abandon them now that he'd offered Monsieur Neuvillette his help. The fortress was secure enough for them to be dealing with mere leakage at the moment, something relatively easy to handle in the eye of the situation out on the surface, and he decided to lend a helping hand to a good friend. How long was it since he'd last seen the sun? He couldn't recall. Weeks. Two, maybe three. As if the universe wanted to kick him while he was down, the hand reaching into his last box of tea bags found nothing but dust.
Gods, how he missed those days of boredom. How he yearned for the hours spent daydreaming in mild disatisfaction that he had nothing more to do than to solve minor disputes between prisoners, simply because he didn't feel like making the effort to leave Meropide that day. Rather than being too lazy, this time he felt like he was going to collapse halfway up.
He licked his lips and dug through the top drawer for one of those old notepads he had lying around, tearing out a sheet. Once he had a few words scribbled down and read it over just to check that his hasty handwriting was actually legible, Wriothesley sprung up from his chair like a man with a mission.
"Require some assistance with paperwork. Bring updated files of identified bodies and lists of people without documented residence.
PS: In desperate need of tea."
The Duke stepped out of his office, rubbing his neck as he eyed the morbid mixture of words on the note. He couldn't allow himself to care too much, no matter how depressing that sounded.
More bodies swept up on the shore to be identified. What color should we paint the fence we just rebuilt?
Groups of people that lost their homes coming together to create shelter out of the rubble. Liyue Harbor includes sweets in the most recent aid-delivery!
Now, he really shouldn't complain too much about that. Currently he would gladly take a cup of Primordial water over the stale taste that had settled on his tongue, and gods know how many of the teabags in Fontaine's possesion weren't completely soaked through by the flood and left with nothing but a lingering suggestion of herbal flavour.
As Wriothesley braved the steps descendant from his office, he caught a glimpse of his own relfection. While his hair usually had a habit of falling in a perfectly-unkempt type of charm, lately it looked more like the shed coat of a very fuzzy dog. His collar was pointing in two different directions, while the tie he kept wrapped loosely around his neck barely managed to cover the occasional stain on his half-buttoned shirt.
In the midst of self pity, the corner of his eye caught the view of a familiar head of blond hair rushing by. "Traveler!"
The young woman came to a screeching halt on the wet metal ground and nearly slipped, her head whirling around in his direction. He rushed closer, offering his hand in assistance.
"My apologies, are you alright?"
"Yes, it's fine-" she brushed her bangs out of her face, voice faltering when her eyes fell onto his state of dress, widening slightly.
Feeling a sudden rush of insecurity, Wriothesley cleared his throat. "Could I ask you for a favor?"
"...Of course."
He quickly handed over the note. "Would you mind delivering this to Monsieur Neuvillette? He should be up in the Palais Mermonia... Unless you were on the way back to the infirmary?"
The blonde licked her lips, readjusting the pile of fabric in her arms. Laundry, as well as several heavily stained bandages. "It's fine, he can manage for another hour without me. I'll just go drop this off, and..." she glanced down at the note, a soft wrinkle forming in between her brows. "Right, Neuvillette. See you soon!"
And there she went. It had taken her long enough to return to the Fortress after all was said and done. Having the option to travel wherever her heart desired, Wriothesley guessed that she'd fled to some place... dry. Either way, she was back to take some of Tartaglia's care off Sigewinne's little hands. Not that those were her outright intentions in her return from what he heard, anyway. He, too, was well aware of the Harbinger's plans to return to Snezhnaya as soon as his body was in the condition for travel, but everyone was too caught up in their own chaos to pay a single thought to the legalities of his false arrest, escape, and current predicament.
He let his eyes sweep over the surrounding level of the fortress. A walk would be nice, perhaps he could check up on Siegewinne, too- or... shit, the couch in his office became more tempting by the second. Additionally, he had no idea just how quickly the Iudex would make it down to here and didn't want to miss him- at least that was the justifaction he settled on as he headed back into his room.
How long since he last appreciated how comfortable this neat little couch really was? Wriothesley wondered as he got settled on the thick cushions. He barely used it lately... what a shame. Crossing his arms under his head, he threw a last glance at his pocket watch. It was 13:05 now, if the traveler left right away and found Neuvillette without issue- Ah, whatever. He was getting more sleepy by the second.
And sleep he did. The first peaceful one in a while, he realized as his mind slowly drifted out of its clouded state. No busy dreams, no upsetting voices recalled. Just rest. But alas, it was too good to be true, which he soon realized with a startled grunt as his eyes snapped open to meet the familiar head of long, white hair.
Neuvillette, alerted by the sudden noise, turned in his direction. His hands still rested upon the surface of Wriothesley's desk, though he quickly retrieved them to be folded behind his back. "You're up. I didn't mean to disturb you."
"How long have you been here?" He croaked out, trying desperately to clear his dry throat.
"About half an hour or so. I've used the time to check over the work. You said you require my assistance, but there doesn't appear to be anything wrong with them?"
"Oh, um- I didn't actually need help. I just couldn't think of another way to lure you down here."
Seconds after the Iduex's eyes widened, he failed to repress a short wheeze. The mumbled apology was hidden by his glove when he covered his mouth, looking up at him with an expression of subtle amusement. "Is that so?"
"Mhm." Wriothesley heaved himself off the couch. He stretched his arms above his head, listening for the satisfying crack when he rolled his neck. "I myself am getting exhausted, and I barely have any of the workload."
"I have responsibilities up there, Wriothesley. I can't just refrain from acting on them whenever I-"
Neuvillette's eyes were always fascinating to him. Especially when Wriothesley did something he hadn't anticipated, something intimate that made his eyelids pull back to reveal the complexity of his irises. Something he achieved flawlessly by drawing the back of his hand along Neuvillette's cheek.
"Take a break."
The room was lulled into a period of heavy silence. Confliction, consideration, longing. All of it displayed in a single twitch of his expression. And just when Wriothesley's self assured smile began to struggle in worry that hid plan may not have worked, his victory was announced with a soft, defeated sigh.
"Alright. Alright, I will."
Wriothesley's lips curled into a smirk. He looked back at the desk, briefly scanning the new documents before his eyes landed on two small boxes. "Tea?"
"Yes. And a few macaroons from Miss Navia."
"Did you visit Poisson?"
Neuvillette nodded quickly in reply.
While he started to unpack the things, the Duke sauntered a few steps away to get a kettle boiling. "How are they faring out there? It hit them harsher than the rest of us."
"The Spina is in the midst of rebuilding everything. Miss Navia..." he paused, frowning softly. "She seemed almost eerily put together."
His eyebrows rose slightly. "I don't know her very well, but from what Clorinde's said she's the type to push through anything. Do we need someone to keep an eye on her or something?"
"Clorinde was in her attendance the last time I saw the two of them, so I assume Miss Navia is taken care of." Neuvillette sighed, again, and unapologetically sank into the heavy chair by Wriothesley's desk. His long, slender fingers reached for the box of macaroons, deciding on one of a deep blue color.
"Do you want some tea as well?"
"No, I'll be fine. Thank you."
"You sure?"
"I'm fine, Wriothesley. You mustn't worry."
"What if I don't believe you?"
Their gazes met in a lingering stare, each utterly convinced of their goals. Eventually, accepting the second defeat of the day, the white haired man sighed and leaned back in his chair. Wriothesley finished preparing his tea and stepped closer, one hand reaching lower to give Neuvillette's shoulder a firm massage. His head tilted to the side with a soft groan and exposed more of his neck.
"Well... with the right words, I suppose I could be coerced to stay down here for a little while longer."
Wriothesley brought his lips down right to the pointed tip of his companion's ear. His voice was low, riddled with exhaustion, yet expressing a genuine need for companionship. "If you come back onto the couch with me, I can help you relax a little."
"...I'm afraid that's an offer even I cannot decline."
With his arm around the other man's waist and a triumphant smile on his face, they fell back into the cushions. He hadn't actually planned beyond this, if they would simply chat, or... either way, Neuvillette seemed to take the decision right out of his hands when he leaned his head against Wriothesley's shoulder.
"Are you planning to come up to the surface for your birthday? It's not long anymore."
"Mhm. That would be nice. The sun, taking a good walk..." he groaned in delight at the simple thought, his smile turning into a sarcastic grin. "If my bones can still take it."
"Thirty-eight is not what I would consider to be old."
"Coming from someone whose as old as the Court of Fontaine, that doesn't mean much."
"Hmph."
His throat rumbled with a low chuckle as he leaned in again, this time gently putting his lips against Neuvillette's neck. "Your hair is... so soft."
Once he received the breathy whisper of approval he had been hoping for, the hand he kept on the Iudex's jaw pulled him in closer. Gods, how he had craved this. Warmth, touch, something to take his mind off the horrors of the world if just for ten minutes. Their mouths pressed together intimately for a few seconds. Wriothesley's tongue soon met the pointed tip of another. Another feature about the dragon Lord he quite adored, something the average person wouldn't notice unless they made a closer inspection- which he personally had, many times. He felt Neuvillette becoming pliant to his touch, sinking slowly to lie down on the couch. This was nice. Calm. Predictable.
Until it wasn't. Now, Wriothesley was always aware that the other man was quite discrete with his affections. Almost coy, which was usually charming. But today things felt off. And he couldn't even pretend to be surprised. "You're distracted."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I understand," he sighed, shifting his body against the backrest.
"I just... I cannot help but feel full of guilt."
Neuvillette's hair played around his nose as he nuzzled into it and took in the fresh scent. He could really get used to this. "Your bear no sin in the eyes of the gods," Wriothesley breathed, "nor mine."
"I know. I know that I've lifted that weight off Fontaine's shoulders, but it feels like I've taken it upon mine instead."
It was a heavy weight, he could admit that. Ruling the nation, fulfilling something you could consider his birth right, without an archon by his side.
"Furina is fully human now."
Wriothesley glanced back up at that.
"She's split from the devine part of her identity." The sound of his voice was almost monotone, yet he didn't do a great job at hiding the visible sorrow on his features. "Five hundred years of suffering, and the only reward I've been able to give her is a short human life."
"Perhaps that's exactly what she wanted."
"...Hm?"
"Five-hundred years is an awfully long time. You don't think she's going to appreciate the rest she'll finally be able to get?"
"I'm not quite sure if you're referring to the fact that she's no longer acting as an archon, or her death."
Wriothesley's brows rose a little higher at that. "Maybe both. We're all bound to pass some day. Nothing is eternal."
"It doesn't seem fair." Neuvillette whispered, his words swimming in a flood of unshed tears.
"She's going to grow old. Make human connections. And her show with that theater group was quite the success, don't you remember?"
"Of course I do. I've seen her every single day for the last five centuries, Wriothesley. I doubt I'll ever grow less terrified of her death until it's happened."
The Duke sighed softly. He stroked the back of Neuvillette's head, letting him rest his face against his chest. There was a slight sniffle in his voice, undeniable at this point. "She'll pass. So will I, so will Miss Clorinde. But that isn't something you can change, mon chéri. And I'm going to assume that Lady Furina would get mighty angry if you were to try."
"...I suppose you're correct."
"You've found people to trust in the past, you'll find new ones, too."
"Not really. Not like this."
Their eyes met, once again, in a stare that couldn't be described as anything other than jaringly intimate. Despite how grounded he felt in their relationship, Wriothesley couldn't keep his heart from fluttering. It was true. There were very few people he held true trust in. Sometimes he didn't even trust himself. Neuvillette was an exception, in a way. One of the few times he had allowed himself to jump in head first without thinking... one singular moment of impulse turning into something stable, slow.
The fact that the Iudex kept to himself for so long, never created a bond alike to theirs, used to stun him. It sounded lonely, awfully so, even for someone that thrived on solitude. He'd wondered how he went so many decades without affection, without touch. Perhaps he was simply wired to withstand such circumstances, considering that he wasn't human to begin with. But Neuvillette was good at heart. He knew, now, that he stayed closed off with his own sorrow in mind. For every single death, now and five centuries ago, would hurt just as much as the last.
How could the gods be so cruel to bestow one of a nation's lifespan with the ability to grieve? Especially a gentle soul of his nature. It almost made the anger rise within him, to think of those divine hands laying a fate of such kind into his cradle.
"Do you ever think about what happens after death?" Neuvillette mumbled softly.
"All the time. What about you?"
He shrugged a little, burying himself further into Wriothesley's frame. "I wonder about the fate of others. Humans I've lost. Yet death seems so far out of reach to me, I... I don't know, it's never been something I've felt I should wreck my mind over."
"Well, different people believe different things. Some are convinced that the afterlife is a paradise, while other's simply think there'll be... nothing."
"Nothing? Nothing at all?"
"I highly doubt that could be a reality for a being like you, so there's no reason to worry. The divine rarely end up with a fate like that, do they?"
"Still. I can't decide whether that thought is terrifying or merciful, in a way."
"It can be both." He shrugged, again.
For the first time in a little while, they settled into a moment of silence. Simply holding each other, enjoying the warm presence of a body pressed up to their sides. Neuvillette had his head leaned over the armrest of the couch, neck bent with the curve. Unable to resist, Wriothesley popped the upper button of the deep blue collar undone. Undressing him always seemed a little taboo, with how much of his skin he covered in his usual outfits, but that very fact also made it a little more exciting. He kept that to himself, though. His lips found their spot on the small patch of now exposed flesh, touching it tenderly.
Wriothesley had heard people talk so many times. What an amazing father he could be. How, once you'd gotten to know him, they'd be jealous of the partner he was to end up with. Then there were the rumors, developing with every year added to his age. Why hadn't he settled down? Was he simply not interested in romance? It went from that, to people making up theories that he was either waiting for a specific prisoner to be released to announce his love, or simply sleeping around in their midst and keeping himself entertained that way. Both were incorrect, of course, though the latter especially always made him shiver uncomfortably.
In truth, he simply didn't intend to settle down. He was satisfied with the way his life was now. On occasion, he would allow himself to play with the thoughts of a different future. Adopting a kid of his own, giving them the childhood he never had. Tempting. Very much so. But when it came to realizing that dream, he was quickly made aware of several hurdles. He couldn't raise a kid down in the fortress, but choosing to leave them up there alone while he spent hours beneath the sea didn't feel right, either. The option of leaving Meropide behind completely was just as unattractive.
So he'd spend his days like this. Lying in the arms of someone he could close his eyes around. Even if they never gave it a name, never decided on a label. Maybe that would be enough- entirely undefined.
Neuvillette lifted the hand he had placed above his eyes, feeling the Duke's warm breath on his throat. A sigh, a rather deep one, which came to no surprise when he noticed the salty drops running down his own skin.
He knew that the dissatisfaction on his lover's face wasn't directed at him, but the tears themselves. So he quickly wiped them away and resisted the urge to fix his collar. Admittedly, it was nice to be bare around him. That was something he'd only learned about himself recently. At first, the way Wriothesley had studied every soft scale on his body had struck up some insecurity within him, but that quickly developed into a sense of comfort. Familiarity.
Still, he considered this office far too public to do so without a little caution.
"It's alright," the other man muttered, "you can let it out."
"No, I mustn't. They deserve some sunlight up there." He let out a soft breath.
"You can't keep your emotions bottled up forever, Neuvillette."
"I'll find a way."
Wriothesley rolled his eyes.
His lips pulling into something you could consider a grin, Neuvillette's eyes fell onto something colorful on the dark fabric of the collar before him. A sticker. Picturing... even squinting his eyes, he wasn't quite sure.
"Is that supposed to be your face on a shark?"
A curse echoed through the room. "I could've sworn that wasn't there before I went to sleep!"
"The door wasn't locked. Perhaps one of those little rascals simply strolled in here to check on you."
"Without me waking up?" Wriothesley frowned, starting to peel the sticker off his clothes.
"You were sleeping quite deeply when I arrived."
"Ah, well, I can't say that I'm not a little glad. At least it's a sign that their spirits are picking up."
He nodded gently, allowing himself to bask in the tranquil atmosphere a little longer. Though, his eyes soon fell onto the shiny pocketwatch on Wriothesley's hip.
"I should be heading out."
The Duke groaned, quite loudly, and wrapped his arms around him in a desperate attempt at imprisonment.
"Wriothesley," Neuvillette scolded.
"Don't leave just yet."
"I have to. There's work to do up top."
"I thought we agreed that you were going to take a break?"
"Haven't I already done that?" He blinked, fixing his collar.
With a slight scoff, his lover shook his head. "You can barely call this a break. You think an hour is going to amount to the weeks of work you've been doing?"
"My kind isn't as reliant on sleep, you know that."
"Fine, yes, I do, but that doesn't mean-"
Alas, he fought himself off the couch and back into a halfway-standing position.
"Come on. Don't go back to work right away."
"You never get exhausted of this, do you?"
"Pleading for you to stay in my arms? No, not at all. Either way, what are your next plans?"
"Maybe I'll pay Lady Furina's new residence a visit. I feel as though she's been avoiding me..."
Wriothesley nodded, looking quite disgruntled, and sank back down into a sitting position on the couch. Taking note of the now cold tea on his coffe table, he made a small grunt of distaste. While Neuvillette gave the documents on the desk a last look-over, the Duke spoke up again.
"Wait- you told me about the whole oceanid thing, and the... more than conveluted reproduction," he waved his hand slightly in the air, creating a dismissive gesture. "Anyway, if we no longer consist of oceanids, does this mean born Fontainians, you know... function as everyone else does now?"
Neuvillette's eyes widened at the simple thought. The revelation of Fontaine's former ways of reproduction had been a little unsettling at first, but he thought no further of it. It had come with the realization that there were truly no "accidental" pregnancies, at least not to both individuals involved. He raised a hand to cover his slightly agape mouth. "Oh. I should prepare to put more funding into that part of the education plan."
"Having a boom in population in a little while probably wouldn't be a bad thing, but I'm sure it'll come as an unpleasant surprise to many." Wriothesley let out a chuckle with an awkward ring to it. After a few seconds of silence passed, he rose off the couch as well to step to his side. Neuvillette received a soft peck on his cheek. "Go now, check on Lady Furina."
"I will." His heart sunk just slightly as he headed for the descending staircase. A part of him didn't want to leave this place behind so soon. Another knew, he couldn't stay forever. "And I will come visit you sometime soon again, if you don't mind."
"Do you seriously have to ask?"
"Well, you like your peace and quiet. I wouldn't want to disturb that."
"You could never be a disturbance in my eyes. Now get out of here."
With a last not-so-discrete pat on Neuvillette's behind and the huff of surprise that came with it, Wriothesley stood and watched how he left, face aflush.
The Iudex left the Fortress in a comfortable haze that day. His goals mapped out in his mind and his body comfortably warm, he headed for the surface. He should go by the Palais Mermonia first, yes, and then he could take on paying Furina a long overdue visit. He didn't want to be a bother, but recalled having something stored away in his chambers. A sword- quite beautifully crafted, and just as masterfully enhanced with a hint of magic. It had been a present once, long, long ago. Given the fact that swords weren't his weapon of choice, he kept it stored away with the anticipation of the day that his former archon would find interest in extensive combat activities that would require a blade of this kind.
That day had never come, but he couldn't let it waste away in its shell. The thought of it being sold pained him, he had to admit, yet it seemed a better fate than the former.
Whatever Lady Furina chose to do with it- today, Neuvillette had a plan.