Chapter Text
The tides are ever-changing. They are destined to ebb and flow and bring about change to the land, whether through disturbing the sands or washing something ashore. It was him who one day washed ashore when a particularly strong wave carried him. He’d been abandoned by the foam, his fair skin slick and long platinum-white hair plastered to his nude frame. A group of fishermen caught sight of this pitiful man and cautiously approached, speaking in tongues strange to him. They looked amongst one another, then to the man, who had the animalistic instinct to cover as much of his exposed flesh as he could. Despite his defensive posture and vulnerable state, his eyes burned and were trained on the group.
The fishermen clothed him in rags they had on hand and took him to their village. There, the mysterious man had learned enough of their language—the language of Fontaine—and had taken a job distributing cargo with the same fishermen who discovered him. He’d survived like this for years: learning and working. Never once did the fishermen question where he’d come from; however, the villagepeople were all too eager to press. He himself didn’t even have the answer until decades later, when the bits and pieces fit together. His memory was patchy. And he would tell them so.
For the longest time, his body had felt unnatural—foreign. Just as foreign as this land and its people. It had taken him a week to get used to breathing air without it being on the mind. A month to have enough currency to afford a small, decrepit place of his own. Half a year of listening in on passing conversations and reading texts to become fluent in their language. And a year to finally have the trust of the village’s people, as he would help out where he could with or without compensation. He’d asked to be called Neuvillette.
Neuvillette insisted on a solitary life, and it had been that way for years of little to no interaction. Until he’d received a letter. Addressed solely to “You,” the writer promised one of the finest seats in the Opera. It was only through the passing of quite some time that he’d learned the letter to be from Focalors, who’d chosen him to witness and judge her humans. And so he’d worked his way gradually up and into the upper echelons of society, learning human behavior along the way, including the greed and selfish tendencies. It became his job to overhear such cases, perched in the highest seat in the House, and lay out rulings. As a Iudex, he remained impartial and distant when it came to relations outside of work as he saw fit for the job. The solitude may have impacted the average human, which he was not even. It never bothered him before.
Supporting Neuvillette every step of the way was Archon Furina, ruler of Fontaine, who saw his potential just as Focalors had. They all believed him to be some sort of divine being blessed and sent to them from the Primordial Sea. His lifespan, unusually long to humans, only added to that belief. For around four-hundred years, Neuvillette maintained his rank and worked tirelessly for his people. And once he’d learned what he was, he’d left that secret locked within him. Only the mysterious traveler and his companion that helped Fontaine endure its Divine Judgement were aware. And now after their departure, the Leviathan of the waters was able to return to his work helping the people without interruption. Or so he’d thought.
“A dog. I like dogs. I want one of those big ones that look terrifying but can be cuddly.” The Duke of Meropide announces as he lounges, limbs spread, on the sofa in the Iudex’s office. The way his arms nonchalantly rested behind him pulled his tight vest taut against his broad chest, the buttons threatening to pop.
“But… it would never see the light of day down there, no?“ Neuvillette replies without looking up from reviewing a document.
A sigh. Then, “Yeah. True. I wouldn’t wanna deprive any pet of sunlight. Earlier, I thought about, like, a lizard or something, too, but thought about the sunlight thing.”
“Yes. Reptiles need ultraviolet light from the sun to process food,” He pauses, then still without looking at the other man, asks, “Was there… something you needed, Wriothesley? I trust you didn’t come all this way to discuss a pet for your office at the Fortress.“
Wriothesley sits up, then leans on his knees, clasping his hands together. “Never beat around the bush, do you?” He chuckles softly, “I… know I never told you everything about my past. Hell, nobody except my adopted siblings are aware. I’m just… fuck. Overwhelmed right now.”
Only now does Neuvillette look up from his paperwork, quickly setting down his quill, folding his hands together, and resting his calm gaze on the other man. “Please continue.”
Wriothesley stands to his full towering height, running a hand through his fluffy black hair streaked with occasional strands of gray. “I never thought I’d be looking back on my past, you know? I didn’t want to. I had a chance at a new life, don’t need to look back.”
After Wriothesley doesn’t speak for a moment, the Iudex does. He stands up from his chair and steps in front of his desk. The two lock eyes. “So what has you looking back?” There was that cute slight wrinkle of concern between his brows that Neuvillette gets, as the rest of his expression is trained to remain neutral and calm.
Wriothesley would think to admire it if he wasn’t so stressed. “I’m reading files of new inmates. One of them was one of my adopted siblings. Despite all I did to help us, seems like she still had a shitty life. Wound up in the wrong place with wrong people. I mean, shit, she looked rough when I watched the inmates being processed. Been on all kinds of drugs, or so her report says, and I believe it based on how she looks and acts. So I wanted to know why. Why she went down this path after what I did. I thank the gods she didn’t recognize me. It’s been that long, I guess, and me staying out of the public eye helps. So I went against the rules and sought her out to ask what happened.”
“Your own rules, I might add.” Neuvillette interjects, and despite the concern on his brow, a slight smile teases the corner of his lips. Recently, he’d become better at cracking jokes and teasing. Understanding humor and sarcasm was not something he was good at. Wriothesley was thankful he’s able to witness this elusive side of him.
Again, he can’t admire it for long. He shrugs. “This was a situation where I had to do what I did, or it’d eat me alive. And… she told me basically that it wasn’t over. So I didn’t free us. I thought I did. I always knew there were more, but… but I thought I sent a message, and—“ He clenches his fists.
“You can’t blame yourself for that.” Neuvillette frowns.
“Tell me you’re certain that everyone involved in that vile, abusive ring is either locked up or dead.”
The Iudex parts his lips. “I can’t say for certain, as much as that pains me to admit.”
“I know. I knew the answer.”
“Wriothesley…” His voice softens, “You are aware that I would be more than happy to send people to investigate if you can offer a lead, yes?”
“Don’t have one. Just a hunch and my sister’s word. Which I can’t even take fully seriously since she’s probably been altered by all the drug use.”
“Then you know what you have to do. Though, you didn’t hear that from me.” Neuvillette turns back to his desk.
He hears Wriothesley release a breath, then his clunky boots stepping on the tile to stand right beside him. “Do you think I’m paranoid? Fontaine just seems so… good now. Barely any crime. It’s hard to believe that any members of this ring would still be active or even free from punishment. But supposedly she fell into their hands again with no place to go.”
“I don’t think you are paranoid. I want nothing more than justice for those who are wronged. So I do not think poorly of you for being worried these people are still out there. With that being said, if you learn more, please inform me, and I will do my job.” He turns to him, looking into the other man’s piercing light blue eyes.
In the decade or so of the Iudex of Palais Mermonia being business partners with the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, all the years of meeting each other face to face, Neuvillette has never seen the Duke so distraught. Normally, Wriothesley keeps a cool head, his voice even and unwavering even during deals with other businesses that sour. The man feared nothing, it seemed. And for good reason, for if he couldn’t charm his way out, he could beat his way out. This made Neuvillette recall Wriothesley’s trial two decades ago.
All of the evidence pointed to the boy who was barely a man. He’d murdered his adoptive parents in cold blood, and in the process, their house went up in flames which spread to the surrounding houses before being doused. When asked why, he wouldn’t elaborate further than, “Because I had to.” Was it psychosis? Rage? It was revealed that him and his siblings, also all adopted, endured horrendous physical, sexual, and emotional abuse. All children at the time. Though, this was not known during the trial. Even so, the public deemed him a danger and refused to allow him to be released, arguing that he had still committed murder. Everyone in the audience just believed him to be a typical lower class delinquent who killed his parents for drug money. His cocky attitude and blunt answers during the trial did not help.
Lady Furina was initially excited to view this trial from her box high above, and she’d occasionally giggle and lean in from her chair at certain points. Quickly, however, her mood soured and she grew bored as the boy confessed guilt immediately when Neuvillette posed the question.
This even shocked Neuvillette, who leaned back in his chair for a moment as a wave of hushed chatter rose in the crowd. “Normally they put up at least a bit of a fight.” Furina had whined later.
So it was no surprise that when Neuvillette announced his usual phrase, “According to the Oratrice Mechanique D’Analyse Cardinale…” the machine had spit out a paper reading ‘guilty.’
So, his sentence in the Fortress was given, and as the guards moved to haul him to his feet and out, he stood willingly. Though easily compliant, he’d given the middle finger to the room in a dramatic gesture and declared, “There’s wolves in sheeps’ clothing among you. Punish them for what they’ve done.”
And with that, he allowed himself to be taken away, never to see the light of day again until his sentence was served. Neuvillette purses his lips as the room erupts into chatter. He is silent for a moment, his expression drawn into confusion and concentration, and he raises his glass of water to his lips. He allows the chatter to persist for another moment before slamming his cane to the ground and requesting order. Of all the displays the convicted performed, only this one had roused him. He’d been threatened. Scrutinized. Mean-mugged. It never bothered him and he’d never thought again of it. But this interaction stuck with him. This call to action. How much did he know?
Years after the trial, when Wriothesley had been in his early 20’s, Neuvillette came to him unexpectedly. The inmate had effortlessly adjusted to the harsh conditions and people of the Fortress of Meropide in those years, establishing himself as a man not to be underestimated. He knew the ins and outs of the system, and knew just how to make the most of it. Winning countless fistfights in the ring granted him notoriety and coupons—the form of “currency” within the Fortress. Yes, he’d been doing well. Most knew to bet on Wriothesley, inside and outside of the ring.
So it was a shock to him that two of Meropide’s corrupt guardsmen approached him, informing him he’d had a visitor. Visitors weren’t allowed. He’d been in the Fortress’s gym as he would every early morning before attending his job fixing up the manufacturing robots, another way he earned coupons.
Without looking up from his current set on the benchpress, he grunts, “You must be pretty damn important to be given access down here. Or maybe I’m the one that’s important.”
A low, soothing purr of a voice returns, “I would say both of us are of equal importance, yes.”
This makes him return the barbell to the rack with a clang, and his eyes rest on the tall, thin silhouette in the doorway. He hangs on the bar for a moment before rising to his feet, and without taking his eyes off of the other man, stands before the pull-up bar beside the door. He makes to grip it, then with his arms still on it, relaxes and leans down, looking at the Iudex in an almost intimidating yet playful manner.
The Iudex, also without taking his eyes off of the inmate, commands the guardsmen, “Please, leave us. I may handle the rest myself.”
They look in between each other in disbelief, give a slight chuckle and shrug, then exit. It’s just them and the two automated Gardemeks that accompanied Neuvillette. Wriothesley sniffs a short sound of his nose as he studies the meks.
“For your protection, right, Monsieur Neuvillette?” His forehead drops as he now stands just above the Iudex.
Neuvillette is unfazed. His blank expression remains as he simply replies, “I can very well handle myself. The Gardemeks are just a show.”
A smirk spreads on Wriothesley’s lips. His eyes shamelessly run along the Iudex, and now that he was close, Wriothesley notes how gorgeous the man is. Neuvillette looked as if he’d attempted to choose clothes from his wardrobe to not draw attention to himself, wrapped in neutral tones similar to that of Meropide’s uniforms, though the quality and attention to detail was undeniable still. He was a few inches shorter than Wriothesley, though still over 6’0. He seemed to have a natural swimmer’s build, with very broad shoulders that tapered into a tiny, slim waist. His hair had been tied up and tucked into a hat, the brim able to hide some of his face. Though, as they maintained eye contact, Wriothesley could see all of it. His long, thin face and high cheekbones matched his long and thin nose. Few wrinkles betrayed how little the man smiled, and his skin itself was porcelain and blemish-less. His bright gray eyes were lidded and framed by long, dark eyelashes. His prominent Cupid’s bow of his full lips gave his face a seemingly constant pout or frown.
Neuvillette himself recalled his first close encounter with the other man. He’d not been intimidated by his body language; no, it was his appearance. Though, ‘intimidated’ may not be the correct word—his feelings during the moment continue to leave him confused. He found himself at first oddly unable to look away from the way the inmate’s tight white tank top hugged his large, muscular pecs as he moved. His impressive biceps were also on display with his confident movements. His hair swooped as he hung his head, nearly covering his slitted eyebrows and squinting, icy eyes which were a shock compared to his black hair. His skin was also pale, untouched by the sun for years, and dark circles sat below his eyes and thick eyelashes. One of his ears was heavily pierced with several hoops and a black stud.
“Huh.” Wriothesley hums.
His next movement was sudden, and though Neuvillette was caught off guard for a split second, he could have easily apprehended the man. He didn’t, likely out of curiosity. Wriothesley had struck the first mek quickly—a blow to the midsection, before a swift movement to its back, hand between the metal plating of its neck. Using this now deactivated mek, he moves on to the second as it swings its blade for him, striking the other with a clang. He tosses the first mek against the remaining one before using the same attack from behind. A hand up the neck, fondling the wires, then it drops, powered off. He stands back, making no further movements.
“Right. Just in case they were recording.” He claps his hands together.
Neuvillette raises an angular brow. Still relaxed, he says, “Shall I make you pay for the damages?”
“Oh, they’re not damaged. Just powered-down. You know, we make these things down here? Can’t use my own products against me. Especially when they suck. I mean, damn, they need an updated model. The modifications I would suggest…” He sighs, placing his hands on his hips.
The Iudex glances at the meks on the floor. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Uh-huh? Go on.” The inmate approaches again, leaning against the wall.
“I want the Fortress’s hand in partnership.”
Wriothesley pauses for a moment, then shrugs. “I’m not the guy you wanna talk to, then. You’ll wanna speak to the warden. Cowardly, unfair piece of shit that he is.”
“And that is why I chose to speak with you.”
“Out of everyone here? Me.”
“There are wolves in sheeps’ clothing. We will punish them.”
A confused expression crosses Wriothesley’s face for a moment, then realization flickers. “Hah. Again, I’m not the right person.”
A slight frown crosses the Iudex’s pretty features. As he makes for the door, he glances back at Wriothesley. “Well. Your sentence is almost up. If you change your mind, come to the Palais Mermonia and ask to speak with me. You don’t have to tell them anything about you or our meeting. I’ll make sure of it.”
It was a short time later when Wriothesley did, in fact, pay him a visit. The man seemed stubborn, so part of Neuvillette hadn’t expected it. Yet, he also gauged the man as someone who wanted things to change, and was damn well capable of making that change. It was on a day where the sun was obscured by soft gray clouds and the slight pitter-patter of rain sounded on the pavement. Neuvillette was standing outside the Palais after needing a break—a rare occurrence. He’d chosen to admire the rain, allowing it to fall upon his perfect skin and seep into his expensive clothes. Focused on the way the droplets fell upon the petals of planted flowers, he watched their stems bob and petals fall under the weight. He wasn’t aware of how much time passed, nor was he aware of his surroundings.
He tenses and nearly jumps when suddenly a shadow drops over him and the rain no longer touches him. Whipping around, to his side stood a slightly familiar tall figure holding his umbrella out to him.
“You… alright there?” Wriothesley asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course, why?” He glances confusedly at the hand gripping the umbrella’s pole.
“…Heh. Alright, Monsieur. Let’s discuss things.” Still shielding him from the rain, he nods towards the doors.
“Very well. Join me in my office.” And with that, he begins up the steps, his boots clicking on the stone.
Wriothesley tucks his umbrella away, chatting as they make their way through the lobby. “Do you always stand out there and get drenched when it rains?”
“It does not bother me. I find it soothing, actually. Haven’t you tried it?” He smiles at the Melusine receptionist as she chirps a ‘Welcome back, Monsieur!’
“I don’t like the feeling of my clothes sticking to me from it. I mean, it can be nice to watch under cover, though.” He steps through the office’s doors as Neuvillette holds them open for him.
“Please, take a seat. I’ll preface by asking if you’re able to keep this conversation between us.” The Iudex drifts down into his high-backed chair.
“Definitely. It’s better that way.” He replies, spreading his legs and leaning back on the couch.
“Am I right to assume you’re considering my proposal?”
“I wouldn’t have bribed my way out for the hour with a bunch of coupons if I wasn’t.”
“Wow. That’s… alarming.”
The inmate chuckles. “I can see why you want better control over the Fortress. Though, not to brag, but not just anyone can do it. Gotta have the right amount and connections.”
“Yes, well. You mentioned the warden’s corruption?”
“You could say that.”
“And… based on your performance in the… er, fight ring there, most, if not all, of your fellow inmates think highly of you and choose to bet on you.”
“I’m flattered. You’ve been doing your research, huh?“
“I do what I can. Do you think they would follow you if you were to succeed the current warden?”
“And how am I to do that?”
“However you want. Though, I beg you to not catch another sentence.”
Wriothesley smirks. “I like how this sounds. So, what do you get out of this arrangement?”
“Should we form a partnership, the Fortress of Meropide could provide Fontaine with better protection through Gardemeks produced there. You already manufacture them there, perhaps we could increase the output and fine-tune them? The machinery is all already there, along with the resources—ore deposits. This would also open up many jobs for your inmates, hopefully creating more opportunity for fair trade and coupon exchange in the Fortress.” He explains, his expression unchanging.
“Hm. Sounds like it could work. And in return I and the Fortress would be funded by you and the Palais?”
“Handsomely so, yes. Your’s and the inmates’ hard work won’t go unrecognized.”
The inmate nods slowly, tapping his fingers on his knee. “One more request.”
“Yes?”
“Can you import teas from around Teyvat for me?”
Neuvillette doesn’t speak for a moment. When he does, it’s warm and genuine. “Odd request. But I can gladly fulfill it.”
Within the next month, the previous warden stepped down and flew under the radar mysteriously. The inmates of the Fortress had no complaints towards Wriothesley taking his place, and Neuvillette hadn’t questioned what happened. Most willingly followed their new warden’s new rules and policies, and all those who didn’t were quickly corrected by him. He had the whole facility in his palm and he grew comfortable with it.
PRESENT
That evening, after the Palais had closed to the public for the day, Neuvillette locks his office just as the sun was beginning to set. Wriothesley had bid him farewell earlier and went back to the Fortress after stating he’d look more into the situation with his sibling. So now that the Iudex was free to return home, he pauses at the marble banister outside, looking at the city below. A soft pang resonates in his heart, a feeling he’d been unfamiliar with for the longest time. Only recently had he placed it as the human emotion of loss—of missing a friend. He’d not spoken to Furina since Fontaine’s Judgement, when Focalors had given Neuvillette the power stolen from his people to be able to pardon the sins of her people. As a result, Focalors had given her life, and Furina’s act to hide how powerless she really was had been exposed. Her role as a “fake Archon” had fallen apart, and she’d stepped down from the position, glad to be freed of the stress. Though, now she’d retreated into herself and become a recluse, feeling the weight of guilt of duping her people while not being able to help them herself.
Neuvillette couldn’t understand the pain she’s been through, but as the Judgement loomed, he could spot the cracks in her. They’d been by the other’s side for centuries, grown to trust one another, and led their nation to prosperity. The Palais didn’t feel the same without the appearance of the Lady. He found himself standing on the steps up to the home she’d confined herself to.
Adjusting his posture, he knocks a few times on her door. A moment passes, then another, before finally, the door cracks open, and the ex-Archon’s doll-like face pops uncertainly out. Her expression quickly morphs into surprise.
“Hey.” Her hollow greeting was painfully unlike the extravagant, dramatic demeanor she once held. Her voice was scratchy, likely due to how little she’d been using it lately.
“Hello. It’s nice to see you again.” The Iudex replies softly.
Furina stares at him for a moment, countless emotions running through her deep blue eyes. Without warning, she throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around him. At her short height, her face presses into his chest the way a daughter would bury her face against her father. Neuvillette stiffens, caught off guard, before gently patting her head and returning the emotional, friendly hug.
“It’s been so… so long.” She breathes.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you for four-hundred years.” Finally, she draws back and looks up at him.
“You did what you had to do. What you were assigned to do. I have no qualms.” He reassures.
“Do you want to come in? We can catch up.” She steps back, opening the door wider.
“Certainly.”
Furina’s new cottage was quaint and cozy compared to her previous personality’s lavish house. Dimly lit and mostly open-plan, touches of her taste did still persist with the royal blues and arranged flowers. She gestures for him to sit on the sofa.
“Do you… want anything? Tea? Oh, that’s right, you only really like water, right?” She sighs, “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”
“Don’t worry about it. I did show unannounced. No, I don’t need anything, thank you. I worry for you.” He crosses one of his legs over the other as he stares her down.
She laughs, though there was no humor in it. “I… wow. No, I’m free, now. I don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“They worry for you. You hide away, despite claiming that you’re ‘free.’ So are you really? Why do you remain so… for lack of better word, depressed? I apologize. I… struggle with understanding human emotion. I may be reading you incorrectly. Is it another emotion?” He insists.
She looks down. “No, you… you’re right. It’s just hard to look at them, you know? The people. They looked up to me to save them. To find a solution. And I couldn’t. I could just pretend to be the insufferable, dramatic icon that ruled them. It was the traveler, Focalors, and you that saved them.”
“You gave them hope.”
“Hope did nothing to save them.”
“There were no casualties.”
“I still feel guilty, Neuvillette.” She finally meets his eyes, her own wide and pleading.
“I wish I knew what was going on in your head. But I can tell you with full certainty that you have nothing to be guilty of. Focalors gave you a role. You took it. As did I when she gave me my role. I don’t believe anyone out there blames you, or has any ill will towards you.”
She messes with her sleeves. “I… I don’t even know how to reintegrate. Do you think they’ll give me a hard time?”
“They’d be foolish if they did. No, they’ll treat you as the human you are. I think you worry over nothing.”
“Neuvillette… I’ve never been able to say this before. After all these years, I have considered you a genuine friend. And I don’t think I had many real friends.” She offers a slight smile.
“I’m glad to be so for you. I don’t think I had many I considered a friend, either.” It was true. He’d denied every advance anyone made.
“What about the Duke?”
“What about him?“
“I dunno. You’re both really loyal to each other. And he’d come visit a lot, from what I remember,” she then adds with a roll of her eyes, “I knowww, I’d pretend to never know his name and forget who he was. But I always knew. Even if he doesn’t ever tell people who he is and just how monumental he is. And he’s really good-looking, too. So I’m sure that was a plus for both of us.”
“I… am glad to see you’re feeling better enough to gossip as you used to.” Neuvillette raises his eyebrows.
“What? Gossip?” She scoffs, “I’m just saying what I know is the truth. I think he’s your friend, too.”
“I can’t have many friends with my standing.”
“Bullshit. Sorry.”
“I’ve explained this to you before…”
“You’re just bad at socializing and scared to get close to people.”
Neuvillette releases a slight sigh, leaning back on the sofa to adjust his position. “I did not come here to discuss my thoughts. I came here for you. Maybe I’ll ‘socialize’ at the next Opera. If you return to the stage.”
“Wha—so now you’re bribing me?” She teases, placing her hands on her hips. “Also, talking about water from around Teyvat for an hour is not socializing.”
A small smile forms on the Iudex’s lips. “Hm. I do mean it about you returning to the stage. I really thought you were a brilliant actress. Enough to bring one to tears with your performances. Not… not me, of course. I’m sure others share the same sentiments.”
“Aw… you big softie,” she considers this for a moment, her smile fading into a distant stare. “Maybe one day. When I get back into the groove.”
He nods. “When you feel ready,” then rises to his feet, “Ah, I should get going. It was lovely to talk to you again. Please, don’t hesitate to reach out to me again.”
“I appreciate you, Neuvillette. Always have.”