#;; the sovereign listens (asks)

[aeors-blessings]

You are so incredibly twincoded it's ridiculous. You really should go on a quest to find your evil oppositely colour schemed twin brother that you're destined to tragically defeat through the power of friendship and also this rock I found.

Gem, I'm still not a twin, and I definitely don't have an evil brother with an opposite colour scheme. It's not like this is some academy manga.

And if I did have to fight someone, I'd hope I could do better than friendship and a rock.

[ebodebo]

The Girl Can't Help It

-thinking about bodyguard!simon with princess!reader... MDNI

An unfamiliar knot twisted in your stomach at the sight. It was preposterous. Unbeknownst. A damn eye sore. A throng of women, all betrothed, all but ripping Simon, your bodyguard's, clothes off his body. 

How unbecoming.

You did not heed what the Prince of Prussia said, perhaps something about his recent diplomatic mission in Tahiti. All you could think about was Simon and the slew of women around him, boasting as if he would care about the wealth and jewels the women possessed or the innuendos they slipped into conversation.

Granted, he only replied with a bland array of 'mhm' or 'how insightful.' His disinterested tone did nothing to nudge the woman away.

"Your mind appears elsewhere, Princess," The Prince of Prussia remarked, absolving you of your thoughts. You flick your eyes to his, sucking in a breath.

"My apologies," you say. "I am feeling rather ill. Pardon me." You quickly issue. You are sure your mother and father would reevaluate your informalities, but you would deal with that when it came.

You find yourself turning swiftly to approach Simon. He's as poised as always, his hands neatly in front of him, resting on the other, despite the conversation around him.

Your eyes shifted between the women. You are sure one scowled at you for 'interrupting.' "I am feeling quite daft. I shall like to leave," you proclaim to Simon. His eyes flick to you, but his head stays stationary.

"Your father has asked that you say the entire time," He says casually. "For prospects." You tilt your head a bit, releasing an irritated sigh.

"I believe you should have more regard for what I am asking of you," you exasperated. He tilts his head slightly, merely squinting his eyes, clearly aware of some underlying factor in your sudden mood change.

"I'm afraid the king's orders are final, Princess," he says, fixating his eyes back on the crowd. You swear you see one of the women smirk, and suddenly, you get an urge to drag her through the mud in the pig's pen, and maybe that will wipe that smirk off her face.

If not, the sheep's pen shall do the job.

"The princess has finally felt the sting of rejection," one of the women whispers under her breath to another, loud enough so she knows you hear her. "Oh, I do wonder what that will do to her psyche," the woman snickers sarcastically looking directly into your eyes.

You suck in a breath. "You should be wary of your words," you begin; the woman's brow lifts up slightly, a conceding expression taking over her face, "I shall be the next sovereign, commanding a whole country, and you shall stay just as you are, in a loveless marriage, betrothed to a man who initiates more moves on your milkmaid than you," you enunciate.

The woman scoffs, her face blushing, as she tries to discredit your words. She dishes out every excuse for her husband's endeavors, but it is hard to discredit fact, which is what it was. She instead calls you foul-mouthed and haphazardly turns to go towards the drinks.

The other woman hurriedly followed her out of fear.

You turned towards Simon, who couldn't help how the corner of his lips quipped. "Big words for a princess," he remarks.

"Well—I would not have to use such...vocabulary if she would have minded her own business," you defend, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Whatever you say," he smirked a little before returning to the crowd, returning to a serious expression. You eye him, feeling slightly intimidated by his stature.

"I shall still like to leave, Simon," you press. He turns to you, his eyebrow raising impatiently.

"I told you—" He begins, his tone dry.

"I am aware of what you told me all of two minutes ago, Simon," you roll your eyes. "I still want to leave. There are no men to consider for the prospectus. And I am growing quite weary of you not listening to me," you conclude, eyes narrowing at him.

He lets out a dry laugh. "Alright, Your Highness. Let's get your poor, weary body out of here." You find yourself rolling your eyes yet again at his sarcastic tone. Though, you don't speak on it. You turn to walk out of the grand doorway, carefully moving through the sea of other patrons, many attempting to stop your stride to converse. You keep moving, with Simon following close behind.

Once you step into the hallway, you quickly scan the area, checking for loose guests. You smile when you realize everyone is occupied in the stateroom, swiftly gripping Simon's hand and moving the two of you into the small closet adjacent to your father's music room.

Simon locks the door to the quaint closet, his eyes burning into yours as he tightly grips your waist. "A closet?" He props as you delicately untie his tie, tossing it to the side.

"We cannot simply go into the music room. Did you forget what happened last time?" You raise a brow. He leans his face down, pressing deep kisses to your temple while slipping the short sleeve of your dress down your shoulder.

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about," he mutters into your collarbone, lips dragging to kiss your sternum. You release a small, breathy moan, bringing your hands to thread through his light hair.

"You broke my father's piano," you meant for it to come out assertive, but it came out more breathless. He snakes his hand around your back, carefully dragging the zipper down, making your dress pool at your feet.

"I seem to remember you were the one on the keys," he gruffs into your lips before engulfing them with his own.

It had only been a few days since the last time you and Simon had...connected. However, with how both of your bodies react to a simple kiss, you would have guessed it has been months.

"Because you put me on the keys," you choke out as Simon's tongue drags across your sensitive skin, starting at your neck all the way until he's sunk down on his knees in front of you.

"Since you have a better memory than me, what did we do after I put you on the keys?" He murmured into the flesh of your thigh, teeth grazing the fabric of the waistband of your panties. You grip his head, pushing more into you, desperate for more friction. "Huh?" He tuts against your skin.

"I—you, well, we had intercourse," you say earnestly, gripping the shelf behind you to gain more stability. His gruff laugh traveled up your leg all the way up to your mouth, eliciting a moan from you.

"Intercourse?" He jibed. "No. Gimme all the gruesome details, baby. None of that proper shit." He moved his face from your thigh to press a deep kiss to your clothed cunt.

"I do not know—ah—what you speak of," you choke out, attempting to push yourself into his face more with your hands gripping either side of his cheeks.

"Come on," he urged, his nose rubbing against your clit in the process. "Don't play dumb with me, sweetheart." He grips your thighs, tugging himself closer to you. He substituted his nose in favor of his mouth, hurriedly pressing his hot, wet lips to your aching clit.

You whine as you feel the friction increase. "Tell me, or I won't let you come," he groans into you. You reply with a pathetic whimper, body shamelessly grinding against his face.

"You used—you used your fingers," You grit out, throwing your head back as his teeth pierced through the thin fabric. He slips his tongue through the new tear, lapsing at your throbbing clit.

"That all?" His brisque voice vibrated against you.

"No. You, you fucked me," you voice. You receive a low groan in response. Got him. "I was so wet you just, you just slipped in," you continue, moaning as you see one of his hands slip from one of your thighs to massage his clothed cock.

"My, my. Sure got a tongue on you for a princess," he jests, a strain in his voice as he massages himself with much pace. His mouth picks up the pace on your cunt, tongue continuing to lapse around your sensitive bud.

"I could say the same for you, Simon. " Your voice is hoarse. You feel the corners of his mouth lift at your innuendo, which makes you form a smirk of your own.

"Keep talkin' to me," he almost begs. His hand and mouth are moving briskly; you're grinding against his face, hands gripping the back of his head.

"Fuck, you, you feel so good," you whine out. You swear you hear him moan, but you can't be too sure as his face is currently suffocating against your skin. You would ask him if he could breathe, but you knew he wouldn't move until you came.

"You always feel so fucking good," you wail as your orgasm hits you like a train, Simon's following shortly behind. He's gripping you tight so as not to fall over, leaning his forehead into your stomach as his orgasm settles.

Once both of your post-orgasmic haze dissipates, Simon stands to straighten out your dress. You bend slightly to pick up his tie strung on the ground, carefully tying it around his neck neatly.

"You have soiled your trousers," you observe, looking down at the wet spot on the front rise of his slacks. He lets out a quiet laugh at your inspection, leaning his head down to kiss the shell of your ear, muttering a gruff, 'And whose fault is that?'

Shit, maybe this whole bodyguard thing wasn't so bad.

a/n: boomshakalaka yesss gawdddd

reblogs & comments encouraged!

[theonottsbxtch]

FOR YOU, ALWAYS | CL16

an: this was a request! i loved wiritng it and now i love the idea of historical romance prince!charles, thank you for requesting it 💞 also i listened to experience by ludovico einaudi the entire time i wrote this

summary: charles has always hated his life, he thinks, he doesn’t know really. but then he meets someone, she challenges him, she makes him try and all of a sudden he knows what he wants.

wc: 12k

The grand dining hall of the Château de Monte Carlo was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through its ornate windows. Prince Charles of Monaco sat at the long mahogany table, his jaw tight as his parents, the Sovereign Prince and Princess, laid out their expectations with the weight of unshakable certainty.

"You must understand, Charles," his mother said, her voice poised yet firm, "a union with Princess Evelyn of England is not merely desirable—it is necessary. The alliance could strengthen our position in ways you cannot yet fully grasp."

His father leaned forward, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the table. "This is not a matter of choice. You are the crown prince. Your duty outweighs any personal hesitation."

Charles’s fingers tightened around the stem of his untouched glass. “And what of my life? Am I to simply be a pawn in your political games?” His voice was calm, but a sharp edge lay beneath the surface.

His mother’s gaze softened slightly, though not enough to dissuade her resolve. “You are the oldest, my son. The weight of the crown has always been yours to bear. This... is part of that burden.”

He didn’t argue further, though every fibre of his being resisted. Instead, he rose, offering a clipped bow. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Moments later, Charles pushed open the heavy doors to his private chambers, stepping into the quiet sanctuary of his room. His temples throbbed with the remnants of the conversation, and he felt the weight of his parents’ expectations settling heavier than the crown he would one day wear.

Inside, the faint rustle of fabric caught his attention. The servant girl—her name unknown to him, as it was meant to be—was smoothing the fresh sheets over his bed. She froze upon seeing him, her hands faltering mid-motion.

“Your Highness,” she said quickly, dipping into a small, practised curtsey. “I didn’t realise you were returning so soon. Shall I leave and return later?”

He waved a hand absently, stepping toward the settee by the window. “No. Stay. Finish your work.”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to his face, then back to the task at hand. He sank into the settee, his head tilting back against the carved wood as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Do you ever wonder,” he began, his voice soft yet tinged with frustration, “why some of us are given so much freedom, yet chained in ways that others cannot see?”

She paused, her hands gripping the edges of the linen she had just tucked in, unsure if the question was meant for her.

When she did not answer, he looked at her—truly looked at her—for the first time in a long while. Her expression was guarded, her posture poised, as though expecting reproach. “You can speak freely,” he said, a rare hint of gentleness colouring his tone.

Her lips parted slightly, then closed again before she carefully responded, “I think, Your Highness, that even those with freedom often long for something else.”

He smiled faintly, though there was no humour in it. “Something else,” he echoed, the words hanging between them like a challenge to a fate he could not escape.

She quickly turned her attention back to the task at hand, smoothing the sheets in swift, precise movements, as if afraid that lingering would invite trouble. Charles, however, was not done with the conversation.

“And what would you long for?” he asked, his voice quieter now but laced with curiosity. “If you could have… anything?”

Her hands stilled, though she didn’t lift her gaze. “It doesn’t matter, Your Highness. People like me don’t waste time with such thoughts.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The firmness in his tone made her look up briefly, her eyes meeting his for the first time. They were dark, unyielding, yet not unkind. She hesitated, as though weighing the consequences of speaking too openly.

Finally, she murmured, “I suppose… I’d long for choice. To decide my own path, no matter how humble.”

Charles leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regarded her with an intensity that made her shift slightly under his gaze. “Choice,” he repeated, almost to himself. “The one thing I’ve never had.”

She blinked at his words, her brow furrowing in confusion. He noticed the look and gave a soft, bitter laugh.

“You think I have everything, don’t you?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the opulence surrounding them. “All this, and yet I’m to marry a woman I’ve never met. Smile on command. Produce heirs like some stud horse for the dynasty.”

“Your Highness—”

“Spare me,” he interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m aware I sound insufferable. Poor me, the prince in his gilded cage.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, the faintest shadow of a smile threatening to appear, though she suppressed it quickly. “I wouldn’t dare say so, Your Highness.”

“And yet you’re thinking it,” he said, leaning back against the settee, a faint smirk tugging at his lips now. “Go on. You’ve already said more than most would dare. Speak freely.”

She hesitated, then, emboldened by his unusual mood, offered carefully, “I think… it’s easier to envy a cage when it’s lined with silk.”

Charles let out a bark of laughter, surprising them both. For a moment, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate, replaced by something lighter.

“Touché,” he said, shaking his head. “Perhaps I deserve that.”

She resumed her work in silence, and he watched her, his mind turning over her words. There was a simplicity in her presence, a quiet sense of purpose that felt like a reprieve from the endless demands of court life.

As she moved to leave, her task completed, she paused by the door. “Your Highness,” she said, her voice tentative.

He glanced up, his expression expectant.

“Sometimes… cages are only as strong as we believe them to be.”

Before he could respond, she slipped out, leaving him alone with his thoughts—and the echo of her words, which refused to leave him in peace.

The words haunted Charles for days. Cages are only as strong as we believe them to be. They played on a loop in his mind, following him from morning meetings with ministers to the hollow dinners with his parents, where talk of his engagement to Princess Evelyn consumed every conversation.

By the third day, he relented. Not to the sentiment behind her words, but to the reality of his life. Duty, it seemed, would always triumph over desire. He formally agreed to the arrangement in a cold meeting with his father, his voice devoid of emotion as he signed the papers that would announce his betrothal to the world.

That evening, restless and seeking solace, he ventured into the royal gardens. The roses were in full bloom, their scent heavy in the warm air, yet they brought him no comfort. The paths, so meticulously maintained, felt as constricting as the marble walls of the palace.

The crisp evening air offered a solace the grand halls could not. He strolled along the manicured paths, his mind still heavy with the decision he had made, when movement near the servant’s entrance caught his eye.

It was her.

She was dressed simply, carrying a basket as she slipped through the narrow door at the edge of the palace walls. For a moment, he simply watched her, a sudden curiosity flaring to life. Then, before reason could temper him, he followed.

She moved with purpose, her steps quick as she crossed the gravel path leading to the servants’ gate. Charles kept his distance, careful to stay within the shadows. The sound of the gate creaking open carried through the still night, and he quickened his pace.

“Wait,” he called softly as the gate began to swing shut behind her.

She spun, startled, her hand flying to her chest when she saw him. “Your Highness!” she whispered, her tone panicked. She glanced around quickly, as though expecting someone to appear from the darkness. “What are you doing out here?”

“I saw you,” he said simply, his voice low, “and I followed.”

Her expression shifted from shock to alarm. “You shouldn’t have. If anyone sees you out here with me—”

“They won’t,” he said firmly, stepping closer.

“But if they do…” Her voice dropped further, almost a plea. “I’ll be dismissed—worse. Do you know what they’d do to me for leaving the palace grounds with the prince?”

He stared at her, and for the first time in days, he felt a flicker of something other than despair. “Please,” he said, the word escaping him softly but with undeniable weight.

Her eyes widened at his uncharacteristic vulnerability. She shook her head, taking a step back. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”

“I’m not ordering you,” he said quickly. “I’m asking.”

For a moment, she stood frozen, her mind clearly racing. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she pulled the cloak from her shoulders and thrust it toward him.

“Fine,” she said, her tone sharp but her movements careful as she draped it around him. “If anyone asks, you’re my cousin visiting from the countryside. Keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

Charles nodded, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Understood.”

She turned and began walking quickly down the narrow dirt path beyond the gate. He followed, cloaked in her simple, worn garment, the scent of lavender lingering faintly in the fabric.

They walked in silence for what felt like an eternity before the lights of a small village came into view. She turned onto a side lane, leading him to a tiny house at the edge of town, its thatched roof weathered but charming.

“This is it,” she said, her voice clipped as she gestured to the modest dwelling.

He stared at the house, a stark contrast to the palace he called home. “You live here?”

“Yes,” she said, clearly defensive. “It’s small, but it’s mine. No one tells me what to do when I’m here.”

He didn’t respond, too busy taking in the details: the flower boxes beneath the windows, the faint glow of a single candle in the window.

“Now you’ve seen it,” she said, her tone impatient. “You should go back before someone notices you’re missing.”

But Charles shook his head. “No,” he said softly, his eyes still fixed on the little house. “Not yet.”

Her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. “You shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

“Perhaps not,” he admitted, finally looking at her. “But now that I’m here… I can’t imagine wanting to leave.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. The quiet stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, she sighed again, softer this time.

“Fine,” she said, stepping toward the door. “But if anyone asks, I don’t know why you’re here, and I definitely didn’t bring you.”

She pushed the door open, stepping inside with a cautious glance behind her. Charles followed, ducking slightly to avoid the low wooden beam over the doorway. Before she could say a word, a voice called from inside.

“Back already? I thought you—”

The voice cut off as a man, younger than Charles but older than the servant girl, appeared from the far corner of the small room. He froze, his sharp blue eyes flicking between her and the prince. “What in God’s name…”

“Damn it!” she hissed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I thought you were working the late shift at the docks tonight!”

“I was,” her brother said, stepping forward and squaring his shoulders. His rough shirt and patched trousers bore the telltale marks of dock work—salt stains and grime clung to the fabric. “But the shipment was cancelled. Now you tell me why the bloody prince of Monaco is in our house. Did you kidnap him?”

“Kidnap him?” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “Don’t be ridiculous. He followed me!”

Charles, for his part, seemed utterly unconcerned by the commotion. His gaze wandered over the small room with childlike fascination, taking in the chipped table, the cracked ceramic plates stacked neatly in the corner, and the patchwork curtain separating the single sleeping area. He paused to admire a string of dried herbs hanging near the hearth, as though he’d never seen anything so fascinating.

“Your Highness,” the brother said, stepping in front of him with an awkward, hesitant bow. “I mean no disrespect, but do you… do you need me to call someone? Or are you in danger?” He looked over his shoulder at his sister. “Are we in danger?”

“No one is in danger,” Charles replied, his voice calm. He turned to her brother with a polite nod. “Thank you for your concern. I’m here of my own accord.”

The girl pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. Meanwhile, Charles’ eyes landed on a wooden crate near the wall, and before either sibling could stop him, he lowered himself onto it. The crate creaked but held, and he leaned back with a sigh, a serene smile spreading across his face.

The girl spun on him, her exasperation bubbling over. “What are you smiling about?”

He looked up at her, his expression earnest, almost boyish. “It’s beautiful.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Here,” he said, gesturing around the room. “It’s so cosy. Everything has its place. It’s warm, lived-in… peaceful.”

Her brother raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “You call this beautiful? Your palace is five hundred times the size, and you think this is—”

“I know what my palace is,” Charles interrupted, though his tone held no irritation. “Cold. Grand. Silent. This… this feels alive.”

She crossed her arms, her brow furrowing as she stared at him. For a moment, she didn’t know whether to laugh or scold him. “It’s a shack,” she said finally, her voice softer but still tinged with disbelief.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “But it’s your shack. And it’s more honest than anything I’ve ever known.”

Her brother exchanged a glance with her, his expression suggesting that he thought the prince might have lost his mind. She only shook her head, sighing heavily as she walked to the table and placed her basket down.

“This is a mistake,” she muttered to herself.

“Perhaps,” Charles said, still smiling, “but it’s the best mistake I’ve made in a long time.”

She busied herself unpacking the basket, placing a few withered carrots, a handful of potatoes, and some crusty bread onto the table. Her brother leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still watching Charles with wary eyes.

“If you’re staying, Your Highness,” she said, her tone clipped as she focused on the food, “I hope you don’t mind scraps.” She hesitated, then glanced at him. “And you can’t tell anyone at the palace that I take the extras. They’d—”

“Dismiss you,” Charles finished, his voice soft. “I won’t tell. You have my word.”

She gave a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly, and began peeling the potatoes. Her hands moved deftly, her brother stepping in to fetch water from the small barrel near the door. Charles sat quietly on his makeshift chair, watching the two of them work in a rhythm.

“Do you need help?” he asked after a moment.

Her brother let out a short laugh, but she only shook her head without looking up. “No, Your Highness, but thank you for the offer. I imagine peeling potatoes is beneath you.”

“Not everything is beneath me,” he replied, and while his voice was carrying a hint of dry humour, there was some seriousness to it.

She didn’t respond, but a faint smile tugged at her lips as she chopped the vegetables and tossed them into a battered pot over the small fire. Soon, the room filled with the simple, comforting aroma of soup.

When the meal was ready, she placed three mismatched bowls on the table and ladled out the steaming broth. She set one in front of Charles without ceremony, then handed one to her brother before sitting down herself.

Charles took a tentative sip, and his eyes widened slightly. “This is excellent.”

Her brother snorted. “It’s boiled scraps, mate. You must really have it rough if you think this is fine dining.”

“Max,” she warned, shooting her brother a glare.

Charles chuckled, dipping a chunk of the crusty bread into the soup. “Maybe it’s not fine dining,” he admitted, “but it tastes real. Honest.”

Her brother rolled his eyes but said nothing more, focusing on his meal. The three of them ate in relative silence, the tension in the room easing slightly as the warmth of the food spread through them.

When the bowls were empty, she cleared the table, stacking the dishes neatly on a small shelf. Charles leaned back, his contented smile returning as he watched her move about the room.

“You should go,” she said finally, her voice breaking the quiet. She didn’t turn to face him.

His smile faltered. “I don’t want to.”

Her hands paused for a moment before she resumed tidying the table. “You’ve seen what you wanted to see. This is my life. And you… you have your own life waiting for you back there.”

Charles stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. “I suppose you’re right,” he said softly.

She walked toward the door, not meeting his eyes as she grabbed her cloak and gestured for him to follow. Her brother gave Charles a long, unreadable look as he rose to leave, but he said nothing, only shaking his head as the prince ducked back out into the cool night air.

They walked in silence down the dirt path, the lights of the palace glowing faintly in the distance. When they reached the servants’ gate, she stopped and turned to him, keeping her eyes on the ground.

“This is where we part ways,” she said firmly.

He took a step closer, and when she looked up, she saw something in his expression—gratitude, yes, but something deeper, too. Without a word, he reached for her hand, his touch gentle. He held it for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over her calloused fingers.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. “For the soup. For everything.”

Before she could respond, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. The gesture was brief, but it sent a wave of warmth up her arm, leaving her stunned.

He stepped back, releasing her hand, and gave her one last look before slipping through the gate and disappearing into the shadows.

She stood there for a long time, staring at the empty path, her heart racing for reasons she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name.

The next few days at the palace dragged on in a monotonous blur for Charles. His mornings were filled with tiresome meetings about the engagement, his afternoons with rigid etiquette lessons to prepare for public appearances with Princess Evelyn. Every second felt like a tightening noose around his neck.

Finally, the day came for him to meet her. Princess Evelyn of England arrived with her entourage in an ornate carriage, her entrance every bit as grand as expected. She was perfectly polite, perfectly poised—and, to Charles, perfectly insipid.

They sat across from each other in one of the palace’s many drawing rooms, chaperoned by a small battalion of attendants and his ever-watchful parents. She spoke at length about her family lineage, her charity work, and her plans to modernise court life, but her words washed over him like a stream of lukewarm water.

When it was his turn to speak, he managed only the barest pleasantries. He was certain she noticed his lack of enthusiasm, but if it bothered her, she gave no indication.

By the end of the meeting, he felt more drained than he had in years. As she curtsied and left the room, he caught his mother’s pointed glare, but he ignored it.

Before she could say anything to him, he glanced at the ornate clock on his wall. It was nearly the same time as the day she would be fluffing the pillows on his settee. A peculiar sense of anticipation stirred in his chest.

Without a second thought, he made his way to his bedroom. As he opened the door, his eyes immediately fell on her.

She was there, as if summoned by some unspoken wish. She was standing by the settee, her back to him as she carefully fluffed the pillows. Her movements were deliberate, methodical, and entirely unlike the flurry of maids bustling about elsewhere in the palace.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Perfect timing,” he said loudly, causing her to jump slightly.

She turned, clutching the pillow to her chest. “Your Highness!” she said, startled. “I— I can come back later if—”

“Don’t bother,” he interrupted dramatically, throwing himself onto the bed with a theatrical sigh.

She froze, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed, as he sprawled across the silk covers, one arm flung over his face.

“Let me tell you about the most dreadful afternoon of my life,” he groaned.

Her brow furrowed as she set the pillow back in place. “The dreadful afternoon where you met the woman you’re going to marry?”

“Precisely,” he said, sitting up slightly to gesture at her. “You understand my plight already.”

“I understand you’re being ridiculous,” she replied, smoothing the cushions on the settee.

“Ridiculous?!” he exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart. “Do you know what she said when I asked her about her favourite pastime?”

“I don’t,” she said flatly, clearly trying to stay focused on her task.

“She said,” he continued, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm, “Oh, I do adore embroidery. There’s something so meditative about it.”

She stared at him. “That… doesn’t sound terrible.”

He sat up fully now, gesturing emphatically. “Doesn’t sound terrible? It’s horrific! What am I to do with someone who finds stitching flowers onto fabric the height of excitement?”

“You could try embroidery yourself,” she suggested dryly, unable to resist a small smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Very funny. No, what I need is someone who… who challenges me. Someone with fire.”

She arched an eyebrow but said nothing, turning back to the pillows.

“Instead,” he muttered, flopping back onto the bed, “I’m shackled to a walking lesson in decorum.”

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the soft rustle of fabric as she adjusted the settee. Finally, she turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable.

“Maybe,” she said carefully, “you should spend less time thinking about what you don’t like about her and more time figuring out what you’re looking for.”

Charles opened one eye to glance at her. “And if what I’m looking for isn’t an option?”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, something unspoken passing between them. Then, she shook her head and turned back to her work.

“Then you make do,” she said simply.

He watched her for a long moment, his chest tightening inexplicably.

“Is that what you do?” he asked softly.

She paused but didn’t turn around. “Every day, Your Highness.”

Without another word, she grabbed her items and walked out, softly closing the door behind her.

Charles had barely settled back on the bed, still pondering her cryptic answer, when the door to his chambers burst open.

His younger brother, Arthur, strode in, his golden hair slightly dishevelled and a boyish grin plastered across his face. “Charles! I just saw her—the princess of England. She’s… stunning. Gorgeous. A masterpiece, really. You lucky bastard.”

Charles groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Arthur, must you always barge in uninvited?”

Arthur ignored him, plopping himself unceremoniously into one of the velvet chairs near the fireplace. “I mean it. If I were you, I’d have proposed on the spot. Did you see her eyes? Like polished emeralds.”

“She’s… fine,” Charles muttered, his tone flat.

“Fine?” Arthur’s voice rose in mock indignation. “Brother, I’d trade places with you in an instant.” He leaned forward, his grin widening. “What is it? Not enough excitement for you? Too… proper?”

Charles sat up, his expression exasperated. “If you find her so attractive, Arthur, marry her yourself.”

Arthur laughed, clearly amused by the suggestion. “Oh, if only it worked that way. But alas, you are the crown prince. The heir. The one who gets the girl and the throne, while I’m left to look charming at parties.”

Charles shook his head, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t help but wonder how different his life might be if the roles were reversed. Could Arthur really be happy living a life of obligation, of gilded cages and loveless arrangements?

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the servant girl. Her small house, her laughter with her brother over bowls of soup, the way she moved through life with an independence he’d never known.

“What would it be like,” he murmured, almost to himself, “to marry someone who isn’t royalty? Someone who isn’t bound by these ridiculous rules?”

Arthur blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. Then he laughed, loud and incredulous. “Are you out of your mind?”

Charles turned his head sharply, fixing his brother with a challenging look. “I’m serious. What would it be like to marry a commoner? To live a life free of all this… pomp and pretence?”

Arthur’s laughter faded, replaced by a look of disbelief. “You are mad. Do you have any idea what that would mean? The scandal? The uproar? Father would have a fit. Mother would faint on the spot. And the people? They’d riot.”

“Would they?” Charles asked, his tone calm but insistent. “Or would they understand? Would they respect a prince who chose love over duty?”

Arthur shook his head, a faint sneer creeping into his expression. “You don’t know what you’re saying. A prince doesn’t marry a milkmaid or a seamstress. It’s not a fairytale, Charles. We’re not… like them.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

“Not like them,” Charles repeated softly, his voice carrying a hint of disdain. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Arthur hesitated, then shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “It means we have a responsibility. A legacy to uphold. Marrying into royalty isn’t just tradition—it’s survival. You think Father and Mother arranged your engagement for fun?”

Charles didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, his mind churning. Arthur’s words grated against something deep within him, something that longed to push back against the boundaries of their carefully constructed world.

“Maybe,” he said finally, his voice low, “the legacy isn’t worth the cost.”

Arthur stared at him, his disbelief giving way to concern. “Charles… you’ve been spending too much time alone. Or worse—reading poetry again. Get your head out of the clouds, brother. This is your life. Learn to accept it.”

With that, Arthur rose, clapping Charles on the shoulder before striding toward the door. “And if you won’t,” he added with a grin, “I’ll gladly keep the princess company. You’re a fool not to appreciate her.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Charles alone in the echoing silence of his chambers.

But his mind wasn’t silent.

It churned, restless and defiant, filled with images of a life he might never know.

The chill of the autumn night bit at Charles’s skin as he hurried along the winding path toward the small house. A week had passed, and though he told himself repeatedly that it was improper—foolish, even—he couldn’t shake the gnawing thought of her.

He hadn’t seen her since their last conversation in his chambers. Every day without her had stretched longer than the last. No wry comments while she smoothed the wrinkles from his sheets, no gentle jabs at his dramatics.

The house appeared before him, small and humble against the starlit sky. Light peeked through the cracks in the shutters.

He hesitated, his heart pounding. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked.

The door opened a crack, her face appearing in the dim light. The moment she recognised him, her eyes widened in alarm, and she yanked him inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Your Highness!” she whispered fiercely, pressing her back against the door as though to block the outside world. “Are you out of your mind? I’ll be hung if they find you at my door!”

He tried to smile, though he knew she was right. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

Her expression turned exasperated. “That’s not a valid reason to sneak out of the palace, Prince Charles.”

“Isn’t it?” he countered lightly, though the heat rising in his cheeks betrayed the truth of how much he’d missed her.

Her sigh was heavy with frustration, but something softened in her gaze. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said again, though her voice lacked its earlier sharpness. She moved away from the door, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders.

It was then that he noticed the redness around her nose, the slight rasp in her voice.

“You’ve been ill,” he said, stepping closer.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, waving him off as she moved toward the small kitchen space. “A cold. Happens every year when the weather turns. I’ll survive.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he said quietly, glancing around the room.

“Life doesn’t wait for the sniffles,” she said with a faint smirk, though her movements were slower than usual as she reached for a bowl.

“Then let me help,” he said, surprising both of them.

She turned, raising an eyebrow. “You? Help? What do you know about cooking?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he admitted, grinning. “But I’m an excellent student.”

She stared at him for a moment, as though deciding whether to humour him. Finally, she handed him a knife and motioned toward a small pile of vegetables. “Fine. Peel those. Try not to cut yourself.”

He took the knife gingerly, studying the carrot as if it were a puzzle. She chuckled softly, the sound warming the small space, and stepped beside him to show him the proper angle for peeling.

The next hour passed in a flurry of quiet laughter and careful instructions. He fumbled with the knife, his first attempts earning teasing remarks from her, but he improved quickly under her guidance. Together, they chopped, stirred, and seasoned until the small pot on the stove began to bubble with a fragrant stew.

As they worked, the conversation drifted.

“You’re better at this than I expected,” she said, handing him a spoon to stir.

He smiled. “Careful. If you keep complimenting me, I might come back for more lessons.”

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Cooking isn’t glamorous work, Your Highness. It’s just… survival.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone thoughtful, “but there’s something… grounding about it. It feels real.”

She looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You really hate that palace life, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead focusing on the steady motion of the spoon in the pot. “I don’t hate it,” he said eventually. “It’s just… hollow. Every decision is made for me. Every word is calculated. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be in all of it.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “You’re lucky, though,” she said softly. “Even if it’s hollow, you have a place. A name. People like me… we’re just the shadows keeping the fire alive.”

He stopped stirring, her words settling heavily in the space between them. “I don’t think that’s true,” he said after a moment.

She tilted her head, her expression sceptical. “No?”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re more than that. You’re clever. Strong. Independent. You see things I never could.”

She blinked, taken aback by the conviction in his voice.

“That’s what I like about you,” he added softly, almost without thinking.

The words hung in the air, and he froze, realising too late what he’d said.

Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she turned away quickly, pretending to adjust the pot on the stove.

His own face burned as he fumbled for something to say, but nothing came. The silence stretched on, heavy and charged, until she finally spoke, her voice quieter than before.

“You should taste the stew,” she said, not looking at him.

He stepped forward, dipping the spoon into the pot and taking a tentative sip.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice softer now.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, though she still didn’t meet his gaze.

The evening deepened, the chill of the autumn air seeping through the thin walls of the small house. Charles noticed her slight shiver as she ladled the stew into two mismatched bowls, the threadbare shawl around her shoulders doing little to shield her from the cold.

He stood abruptly, unfastening the clasp of his heavy cloak. She turned to look at him, startled, as he stepped behind her and draped it gently over her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” she asked, pulling the thick fabric around herself instinctively.

“You’re cold,” he said simply, sitting back down and picking up his bowl.

She hesitated, looking at him with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. “But you’ll freeze without it.”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a small smile. “I’ve survived colder nights, army and all of that.”

The warmth of the cloak seemed to envelop her, and she relaxed slightly, sitting down across from him. For a moment, they ate in silence, the quiet clinking of their spoons the only sound.

When their bowls were empty, Charles glanced around the modest room, noticing for the first time the lack of a hearthfire.

“Do you light a fire at night?” he asked, though he already suspected the answer.

She shook her head. “Can’t afford firewood,” she said matter-of-factly, collecting their bowls. “It’s not so bad. We manage.”

“Oh,” was all he managed to say, though the thought of her and her brother enduring nights in such cold unsettled him deeply.

She didn’t seem to notice his reaction, busying herself with tidying up.

Later, as he prepared to leave, she hesitated by the door, holding his cloak out to him.

“Take this back,” she said softly.

He pushed her hand gently back toward her. “Keep it,” he insisted. “For tonight.”

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped, the words faltering. Finally, she nodded, her fingers tightening around the fabric.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

He smiled at her one last time before stepping out into the night, the chill biting at him instantly as he made his way back to the palace.

She played with the royal clasp of his cloak as he left and wondered what her life would be like if she wasn’t just a servant and he wasn’t the Crown Prince of Monaco.

No less than a few days later, her brother barged into the small house, his footsteps heavy against the creaking floorboards.

“Why,” he began, his voice loud and incredulous, “is there months’ worth of firewood outside the house?”

She looked up from where she was patching a worn-out scarf, distracted. “What are you talking about?”

“The firewood,” he repeated, gesturing wildly toward the door. “There’s a mountain of it, just sitting there! Did you rob a lumberyard?”

She frowned, setting down her work and walking to the door. When she stepped outside, her eyes widened at the sight of the neatly stacked pile of firewood by the side of the house.

“I… I don’t know,” she stammered, completely bewildered.

It was then that she noticed a small slip of paper tucked into the top of the stack. Pulling it free, she unfolded it to reveal a note written in a familiar, elegant hand.

Keep warm – C

Her cheeks flushed, and a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

Her brother leaned over her shoulder, reading the note. “C?” he asked suspiciously. “Who’s C?”

She folded the note quickly, tucking it into her apron pocket. “No one,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

Her brother narrowed his eyes but didn’t press further, shaking his head as he muttered something about princes and their peculiarities.

She was fluffing the pillows on the freshly made bed when the door to the prince’s chambers swung open. Charles strode in, his expression lighting up the moment he saw her. Without hesitation, he leapt onto the bed, landing with a dramatic bounce that sent a pillow tumbling to the floor.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed, grinning. “And you’re better!”

“And you just ruined the bed I made.” she chided but then moved on to adjusting a vase on the side table. “Well I must say, a lit fire at night changes a whole lot.”

He froze for a fraction of a second, then sat up, feigning ignorance with an exaggerated shrug. “Oh? A fire, you say? That’s… good to hear. Fires are quite helpful, I’m told.”

Her smirk widened. “I’m sure someone told you that.”

“Perhaps,” he said, swinging his legs off the bed and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But we’re not here to discuss firewood logistics, are we?”

She rolled her eyes, walking around the room to dust the mantel. “Then what would you like to discuss, Your Highness?”

He sighed heavily, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm over his face. “The princess of England.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. “Oh?”

“I have to meet her again,” he groaned. “Another tea, another tedious conversation about fabrics or her needlework or some other mind-numbing topic. I swear, I’d rather duel blindfolded than sit through it.”

She snorted, biting back a laugh. “Blindfolded? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“No,” he said, peeking at her from under his arm. “It’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Of course it is,” she said, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. “Because what’s more reasonable than a prince skewering himself just to avoid small talk?”

He sat up, clutching his chest theatrically. “You wound me, madam. Truly, your lack of sympathy is cruel.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, shaking her head as she set the duster aside. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, grinning.

She turned back to the mantel, but when the silence stretched, she glanced over her shoulder. He was watching her, his expression soft, his eyes warm and intent.

Her brow furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He blinked, snapping out of his reverie, and quickly looked away, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t looking at you.”

“You absolutely were,” she said, crossing her arms and giving him a suspicious look.

“No, I was… thinking,” he said, his voice a touch too casual.

She arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Thinking about what?”

“About…” He scrambled for an answer, then pointed toward the bed. “About how well you made this bed. Truly impressive. Best I’ve ever seen.”

She rolled her eyes again, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “Right,” she said, picking up her duster. “Well, I’ll leave you to your very important thinking, then.”

He watched her go, his chest tightening as the door clicked softly shut behind her.

Over the next few days, Charles found himself increasingly distracted. Whether strolling through the palace gardens or enduring another tiresome tea with the princess, his thoughts invariably drifted to her. The way her wit kept him on his toes. The quiet determination in her movements. The occasional flicker of softness beneath her sharp remarks.

It was maddening.

When he was near her, he found excuses to linger. When she wasn’t around, he searched for her without realising it. And as much as he tried to push the growing ache in his chest aside, he couldn’t deny what was happening.

He’d fallen for her.

It was late afternoon when he returned to his chambers after a gruelling diplomatic meeting. To his delight, she was there, dusting the intricate carvings on the wooden frame of his bed. She didn’t notice him enter, humming softly to herself as she worked.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her for a moment before clearing his throat.

She jumped, spinning around to face him, clutching her duster like a weapon. “Do you have to sneak up on me?”

“It’s my room,” he said, smirking. “I can hardly sneak into my own space.”

She scowled, turning back to her work. “You’re insufferable.”

“So you’ve said,” he replied, stepping further into the room. “But you keep coming back. Perhaps I’m growing on you.”

“I come back because it’s my job,” she retorted, moving to dust a nearby shelf.

He followed her, leaning lazily against the furniture. “A job you seem to excel at. Though I wonder… do you enjoy tormenting me as much as I enjoy tormenting you?”

She shot him a sharp glance, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Someone has to keep your ego in check, Your Highness.”

He chuckled, reaching out to pluck the duster from her hand. “You do it so well,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned closer, her eyes darting to his before flicking away. “You should stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” he asked, his voice soft and teasing as he leaned closer still, his face mere inches from hers.

“Whatever it is you’re doing,” she said, stepping back slightly, only to find herself against the edge of the shelf.

The tension in the air was palpable, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His gaze was locked on hers, and for a moment, the world outside the room seemed to vanish.

A sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.

“Charles?” his brother’s voice called from the hallway.

Panic flared in her eyes, and Charles acted on instinct, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the large wardrobe at the side of the room.

“What are you—” she began, but he pressed a finger to her lips as he opened the wardrobe door and ushered her inside.

The space was small, barely enough for the two of them. She pressed herself against the back wall as he stepped in, closing the door behind them.

The darkness was absolute, and the only sound was the quiet shuffle of their breaths.

“Stay quiet,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

A beat passed, and she whispered back, her voice laced with frustration, “If we get caught, it’ll be my neck, not yours.”

“No one’s getting caught,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

In the confined space, his hand brushed against hers, and he froze. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his fingers moved to her face. His touch was light, tentative, as though he feared she might vanish at any moment.

His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, brushing against her skin with agonising slowness. Her breath hitched, and in the silence, it felt deafening.

“Why are you…” she began, but her voice faltered as his fingers brushed the line of her jaw, lingering there for a moment before sliding to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“You’re too close,” she replied, though her tone lacked conviction.

The faintest smile curved his lips, though she couldn’t see it in the dark. “You’re not stopping me,” he said softly.

Before she could respond, his brother’s voice echoed from the other side of the room. “Charles, where are you?”

He leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing hers. “Stay still,” he murmured, his hand still cradling her cheek.

She closed her eyes, the tension in the small space suffocating and electric all at once.

Footsteps receded as his brother left the room, grumbling something about missing him.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, Charles let out a slow breath, his hand dropping from her face. He opened the wardrobe door slightly, letting in the dim light of the room.

“Safe,” he said quietly, stepping back to let her out.

She stepped past him, her cheeks flushed and her breaths uneven. “You’re reckless,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze as she hurried to gather her duster.

He smirked, leaning against the wardrobe door. “And you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

She shot him a glare over her shoulder, but the pink in her cheeks betrayed her.

“Get back to work, Your Highness,” she said, her tone sharp but her voice unsteady.

He chuckled softly, watching her go.

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Charles’s chambers, painting golden streaks across the plush rug. She was there again, this time at his desk, meticulously polishing the brass handles of the drawers. She worked with the same quiet efficiency she always did, her movements steady, purposeful.

Charles, reclining lazily on the settee, had been pretending to read a book for the past ten minutes. In truth, he’d barely turned a page. His attention was drawn, as it so often was these days, to her.

He cleared his throat, drawing her attention. “Have you ever taken a moment to rest?”

She glanced at him briefly before returning to her task. “I rest when my work is done.”

“And when is it done?” he pressed, setting the book down and rising to his feet.

She didn’t answer immediately, her focus still on the brass handle in her hand. “When your chambers sparkle, Your Highness.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “It already sparkles. You’ve polished this desk so many times I can see my reflection.”

She huffed softly, clearly unimpressed. “There’s still dust.”

He reached out, his hand gently brushing hers as she gripped the cloth. She stilled, her breath catching as his fingers lingered over hers.

“You’re relentless,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her eyes flicked to his, wide and uncertain. “And you’re in my way.”

He smiled, his expression teasing but his gaze intent. “I’m rarely in anyone’s way. It’s a novelty.”

She tried to step back, but he moved with her, closing the distance between them. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Observing,” he said, his voice soft, warm, as if he were sharing a secret. “You’re endlessly fascinating to watch, you know.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, but he reached out, gently tilting her chin so she’d meet his eyes again.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she said, her voice shaky.

“Why not?”

“Because…” She faltered, her lips parting as she searched for words. “Because you shouldn’t.”

He leaned in slightly, his hand still holding her chin. The air between them was heavy, charged with something neither of them dared name.

“You’re trembling again,” he said softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles.

“I’m not,” she said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.

“You are,” he whispered, his thumb brushing her jaw in the lightest of touches.

Her breath hitched, and her hands tightened around the cloth she still held. “This is dangerous,” she managed, though her tone was weak.

“For you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Or for me?”

She couldn’t answer, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

His hand moved, the backs of his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, then down to her neck, where his thumb rested lightly against her pulse. He felt it hammering beneath his touch and smiled softly, almost as if he were marvelling at it.

“You feel it too,” he said, his voice low and intimate, as if the world beyond this moment didn’t exist.

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she finally pushed lightly at his chest. “You… need to stop.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his gaze locked on hers. Then, slowly, he stepped back, though the tension in the air lingered like a storm about to break.

She turned away quickly, grabbing her cloth and pretending to busy herself with the desk again, though her hands shook so much she nearly dropped it.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice stopping her in her tracks.

She didn’t turn back to him, but she nodded slightly, her voice quiet. “Don’t do it again.”

But neither of them believed that.

That night the crackle of the fire in the grand drawing room filled the silence as Charles poured himself another glass of brandy. His younger brother lounged in the chair across from him, a glass already in hand.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” Arthur said, swirling his drink. “Even more so than usual.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. “Have I?”

Arthur arched an eyebrow. “You spent half of tea with the English delegation yesterday staring at the window. I’m pretty sure they could have declared war, and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

Charles chuckled, though it lacked his usual mirth. He stared into his glass, the amber liquid catching the firelight.

“Arthur,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

His brother tilted his head, curious. “What?”

“What would you think of… being the next heir to the throne?”

Arthur blinked, then laughed, loud and incredulous. “What, you’re not planning on dying anytime soon, are you?”

“No,” Charles said, shaking his head, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

Arthur leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Then why would you ask that?”

Charles swirled his drink, his gaze distant. “Just… wondering.”

Arthur snorted, leaning back again. “Abdicating is social suicide. If you’re even entertaining the thought, I’d advise you to stop immediately.”

Charles stayed silent, his thumb brushing idly along the rim of his glass.

The quiet stretched, and Arthur froze mid-drink, lowering his glass to the table with a sharp clink. His eyes widened, and his voice dropped. “You’re not thinking of abdicating… are you?”

Charles didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he stared into the fire.

“Cha,” Arthur pressed, his voice rising slightly. “What the hell is going on with you? Who’s put this absurd idea in your head?”

Charles glanced at him, his expression inscrutable. “It’s not absurd.”

“It is when you’re the crown prince of Monaco,” Arthur snapped, sitting up straighter. “You’d give up everything—power, privilege, our family’s legacy—for what? A whim? A fleeting fancy?”

“It’s not a fancy,” Charles said sharply, his voice cutting through the room.

Arthur blinked, taken aback by his brother’s rare flash of anger. “Then what is it?”

Charles leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and staring hard at his brother. “What if I told you it’s something real? That I’ve found something—someone—who makes me feel more alive than anything this throne ever could?”

Arthur’s jaw dropped slightly, his expression caught between shock and disbelief. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly serious,” Charles said, his tone firm.

Arthur exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t just about a servant, is it?”

Charles’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing. “How—”

“Please,” Arthur said, waving a hand. “You think I haven’t noticed? The way you’ve been sneaking out, the looks you give when you think no one’s watching? The firewood? You’re an open book.”

Charles leaned back, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I underestimated you.”

“And you’re underestimating the chaos you’d cause,” Arthur shot back. “Do you have any idea what this would mean for the family? For Monaco?”

Charles’s expression hardened. “For once, I’m thinking about what it would mean for me.”

Arthur stared at him, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “You’d walk away from all of this?”

“If it meant being with her?” Charles said, his voice soft but resolute. “Yes. I would.”

The weight of his words settled over them, and for once, Arthur didn’t have a quick retort.

The next few days were torturous for Charles. Each moment stretched longer than the last, his thoughts dominated by her. Every step he took through the palace halls felt meaningless without catching sight of her—her quick smile, her quiet resolve, the way she challenged him without fear.

He thought of her words, her laughter, the way her cheeks flushed when he teased her. More than that, he thought of the way she made him feel—seen, understood, even cherished in a way that no title or crown could replicate.

His heart ached with the weight of it, with the need to tell her, to unburden himself of the truth that had taken root so deeply he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

But how? How could he look her in the eye and admit what he was so sure would unravel the tenuous balance between them?

One morning, he found himself wandering aimlessly through the palace gardens. It was the time of day she often brought fresh linens from the storage to the castle, she usually crossed the gardens. He lingered, hoping for a glimpse of her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Frustrated, he returned to his chambers, pacing the space restlessly, thinking. No, waiting to next see her. When she finally arrived, carrying a tray of fresh tea and biscuits, his breath hitched.

“You’re pacing,” she said, placing the tray on the table. “That’s never a good sign.”

“I’ve been restless,” he admitted, stopping mid-stride. “And you’re late.”

She raised an eyebrow as she set the tea. “Didn’t know I was on your schedule.”

He crossed the room to her, his steps deliberate. “I notice when you’re not here.”

Her hands stilled for a moment before she resumed arranging the tea things. “I’m just a servant, Your Highness. Surely you have better things to notice.”

“That’s not true,” he said, his voice dropping.

She looked up at him, her expression guarded. “It should be.”

He wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t her place to decide what mattered to him, but the vulnerability in her gaze stopped him. Instead, he changed the subject.

“Have you eaten today?”

She frowned, clearly caught off guard. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’d wager you haven’t,” he said, stepping closer. “You work yourself to the bone.”

She shrugged, turning back to her task. “I’m used to it.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said, his tone softer now. “Come. Sit with me for a moment.”

She hesitated, glancing at the door. “If someone sees—”

“No one will,” he said, moving to pull a chair out for her. “Please.”

Her eyes darted between him and the chair before she sighed, giving in and sitting reluctantly.

He poured her a cup of tea, his movements unhurried. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, and he felt the now-familiar spark that always seemed to follow her touch.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said quietly, looking down at the tea.

“Do what?”

“Treat me like I’m someone,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Someone important.”

His chest tightened. “You are.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide, filled with a mix of disbelief and something else—something that made his breath catch.

For a moment, he thought about saying it, about laying it all out before her. But the words caught in his throat, weighed down by the fear of what her reaction might be.

The next day, Charles found himself waiting for her in his chambers again, anticipation thrumming through him. When she arrived, her arms full of fresh linens, he immediately noticed the faint circles under her eyes.

“You’re overworking yourself again,” he said, standing from his seat near the window.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone brisk as she moved to change the bedding.

“You’re not,” he countered, moving closer.

She straightened, turning to face him. “Why do you care?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken truths.

“Because…” He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. “Because you matter to me.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching. “Charles, don’t—”

“I’m not trying to overstep,” he said quickly. “But you should know—I can’t ignore it anymore.”

“Ignore what?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. She stepped back instinctively, breaking the moment.

Over the next few days, he was quieter, more pensive. He found himself watching her more often, the words he wanted to say always on the tip of his tongue. But every time he opened his mouth, the weight of the risks stopped him.

What if she didn’t feel the same? What if she did, but couldn’t say so?

The questions tormented him, each one drawing him closer to the inevitable conclusion: he had to tell her.

But how could he make her understand the depth of his feelings without ruining everything?

Charles really tried to wait it out, he tried so hard.

But when the rain lashed outside his chambers where he sat in the dimly lit room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth.

He worried.

It was late, far later than when she usually came, but he had waited, a knot of tension in his chest.

When the door finally opened, and she stepped inside with her usual quiet grace, drenched from the rain with his laundry in a covered basket, his heart leapt.

“You’re soaked,” he said, standing quickly. “You shouldn’t be out in this weather.”

She shrugged, setting the basket down by the door. “Work doesn’t stop for a storm, Your Highness.”

He frowned, crossing the room to her. “Take off that cloak; you’ll catch your death.”

“I’m fine,” she said, brushing past him toward the hearth, but her shivering betrayed her words.

He moved closer, pulling her gently toward the warmth of the fire. “Why do you always insist on pretending you’re fine when you’re not?”

She stiffened under his touch. “Because I have no other choice.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected. He reached for her hands, his thumbs brushing over her cold fingers. “You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

She pulled her hands back, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and caution. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He hesitated, his heart pounding. “I can’t keep pretending. Not anymore.”

“Pretending what?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

“That I don’t feel this,” he said, stepping closer. “That I don’t feel everything for you.”

Her eyes widened, her breath catching. “Charles…”

“I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out, raw and unguarded. “I’ve tried to fight it, to ignore it, but I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Before she could even stop them, tears welled in her eyes, and she shook her head, stepping back. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

“I do,” he said firmly, closing the distance between them again. “I’d give up everything—this title, this life—if it meant being with you.”

Her tears spilled over then, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”

“Why not?” he asked, his voice breaking. “If I’m not happy here—if I can’t have the life I want—what good is any of this?”

“Because you don’t know what you’re saying,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ve lived in a palace your entire life, with servants, banquets, comfort. You don’t know what it’s like to live without it. To go to bed on an empty stomach. To wake up not knowing if you’ll have work the next day. I can’t do that to you.”

“You wouldn’t be doing it to me,” he said desperately. “It would be my choice.”

She shook her head again, her tears falling faster now. “And what happens when you realise you can’t live like that? When the reality of it sets in? You’ll resent me. And I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” he said, his voice pleading as he reached for her hands again. “I swear to you, you won’t.”

“I don’t have a good life,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can barely take care of myself. How could I take care of you?”

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” he said, his hands tightening around hers. “I just need you. I don’t care about the rest.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his, her tears glistening in the firelight. “You’re asking me to believe in something that feels impossible.”

“Then let me prove it to you,” he said, his voice breaking as his own tears threatened to fall. “Please. Give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Her resolve wavered, her breath hitching as his words sank in. She wanted to believe him—desperately—but the fear of what they would face, of what they would lose, loomed over her.

“Cha…” she began, her voice cracking.

“Please,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “Say yes. Just… say yes.”

For a long, agonising moment, the only sound was the rain pounding against the windows and the crackle of the fire.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said, cupping her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “But don’t push me away. Not now. Not when I know you feel this too.”

Her lips quivered, and she closed her eyes, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. “You’re impossible,” she whispered.

“And you’re everything,” he replied, his voice trembling with emotion.

After pacing around his room for a few days, thinking of how he was going to tell his father, Charles went to his study.

The atmosphere in the king’s study was heavy with tension, the air almost crackling as Charles stood before his father. The older man sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, his expression dark and unreadable. The storm that had raged days earlier seemed to have shifted inside these walls, centering on the room as if the universe sensed the coming conflict.

“I need to speak with you,” Charles began, his voice steady but tight.

The king set down the pen he had been holding, his gaze sharp. “This sounds serious.”

“It is,” Charles replied, straightening his shoulders. “I’ve made a decision.”

The king leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I see. Go on, then.”

“I’m going to abdicate.”

For a moment, the words seemed to hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the room.

Then, the king’s expression darkened further, his voice sharp and incredulous. “You’re what?”

“I’ve decided I don’t want the throne,” Charles said firmly. “It’s not the life I want anymore.”

The king rose from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate as he loomed over the desk. “Do you even understand what you’re saying? What you’re throwing away?”

“Yes,” Charles said, meeting his father’s gaze without flinching. “I’ve thought about this—more than you know. I don’t want this life. I want…” He hesitated, his voice softening. “I want to live my own life.”

The king scoffed, shaking his head. “And what life would that be? One of obscurity? Of poverty? You’ve never gone a day without comfort, without privilege. You know nothing of what it’s like out there, and you think you can just… give all of this up?”

“I do,” Charles said, his tone resolute.

The king’s eyes narrowed. “This is about her, isn’t it? That servant girl. Your mother mentioned her but I did not believe her.”

Charles’s chest tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “Yes. It’s about her. But it’s also about me. About what I want, who I want to be. And I know I don’t want this.”

“Don’t be a fool,” the king snapped, his voice rising. “You think love is enough to sustain you? That some fantasy of a simpler life will keep you warm when reality sets in? She can’t give you what you need, Charles.”

“She gives me what I want,” Charles shot back, his voice fierce. “And for once, isn’t that enough?”

“No, it isn’t!” the king roared, slamming his hand on the desk. “You’re a prince! You have a duty—to your family, to your people. You can’t just walk away because of some fleeting infatuation.”

“It’s not fleeting,” Charles said, his voice dropping but losing none of its intensity. “I love her. And I’d rather live a life with her—whatever that looks like—than spend one more moment pretending to be happy here.”

The king laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You’re naïve. You don’t even know how to survive out there.”

“She’ll teach me,” Charles said, surprising even himself with the certainty in his voice. “I want to learn. I want that life—with her.”

The king stared at him, his face a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “You’re throwing away everything you’ve ever known for a life of struggle. For what?”

“For love,” Charles said simply.

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. The king finally sat back down, rubbing a hand over his face. When he looked up again, his expression was weary but no less stern.

“You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly.

“Maybe,” Charles replied. “But it’s my mistake to make.”

The king’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze searching his son’s face as if looking for a crack in his resolve. But Charles stood firm, his decision made.

“You’ll regret this,” the king said finally, his voice heavy with warning.

“Perhaps,” Charles said. “But I’ll never regret choosing her.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the study, leaving his father staring after him in silence.

The rumours spread like wildfire. Whispers followed Charles wherever he walked, his every step trailed by servants and courtiers exchanging furtive glances and hushed speculations. The air in the palace buzzed with the shock of his decision, but none of it mattered to him. Not the disapproval etched into his father’s face, nor the incredulous murmurs of the courtiers. His mind was focused solely on her.

He found her in the palace laundry room, folding linens with the quiet efficiency that always seemed to calm her. When he walked in, she froze, her fingers clutching the corner of a sheet.

“You,” she began, her voice a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “You really went through with it?”

He stepped closer, his hands tucked behind his back, his face calm but his eyes alight with purpose. “I told you I would.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “I thought—Charles, I thought it was just talk. Something you’d get over once you realised how insane it is.”

“Well, I’m officially insane,” he said with a faint smile, stepping closer.

She dropped the sheet onto the table and turned to face him fully, her arms crossed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The crown, the throne, your entire future—it’s gone. All of it. For what?”

“For you,” he said simply.

Her mouth opened, but no words came. Finally, she shook her head, her voice trembling. “You’re impossible. Do you know what this means? I can’t work here anymore, not if you abdicate. The palace won’t keep me.”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I wouldn’t ask you to stay here. We’ll leave—together.”

“Leave?” she echoed, blinking at him.

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer until he was just in front of her. “I’ve been thinking about it. We can go somewhere no one knows us, where we can start fresh.”

She stared at him like he’d grown another head. “Where would we even go?”

“Italy,” he said with a small smile.

“Italy?” she repeated, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, maybe Marenello,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “It’s beautiful, the weather is perfect, and… I don’t know, it just feels right.”

She let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Charles, I don’t even speak Italian.”

He tilted his head, his smile widening. “Then, for once, I’ll get to teach you something.”

His words hung in the air, so tender and unexpected that she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. The corners of his eyes crinkled at her reaction, and before she could say anything else, he stepped even closer and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

She closed her eyes, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through her. “You’re serious about this,” she whispered.

“Completely,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m not afraid of starting over, not if it’s with you.”

For a moment, she let herself believe it could be possible—this crazy, impossible dream of theirs.

“When?” she asked softly.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice full of quiet resolve. “After I sign the abdication papers.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, searching eyes. “And then what?”

He smiled, his expression both calm and full of determination. “And then we start the life we’ve always wanted.”

She didn’t want to be vulgar, she really didn’t but she had to be honest.

She was shitting herself at the thought of being summoned into the King’s office with the entire family.

The office was uncharacteristically quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of the palace muffled by the thick doors. Charles sat at the massive oak desk, the official abdication papers spread out before him. Arthur stood off to the side, his arms crossed, watching the scene with a mix of bewilderment and unease while his parents stood by the desk with a clear look of disdain etched on their faces.

She stood near the doorway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked smaller than usual, her nerves evident in the way her fingers twisted together. Her wide eyes darted between Charles and the papers, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of them.

Arthur broke the silence first. “Are you sure about what you’re doing, Cha?”

Charles’s pen hovered over the signature line, but he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked up at her. She met his gaze, and in that instant, the rest of the room faded away. The worry in her eyes, the way her lips pressed together as if she was holding back words—it was as if he was falling in love all over again.

“You don’t have to do this for me, Cha,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He smiled at her, then, without hesitation, he bent his head and signed his name in bold strokes across the paper.

The moment was electric, the scratch of the pen on parchment the only sound in the room. When he finally set the pen down, it felt as if the world had shifted, as if something monumental had been set into motion.

Arthur exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Well, there it is,” he muttered, his voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and resignation. “You’re officially insane.”

Charles stood, his movements deliberate as he turned to face her. “Go back to your house,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an urgency that made her breath hitch. “Pack your things. Tell your brother. We’re leaving at six.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting as if to protest, but before she could say a word, Arthur muttered something about needing air and slipped out of the room, leaving them alone, his parents following shortly behind.

The silence that followed was thick with tension, their gazes locked as the gravity of what had just happened sank in.

“You…” she began, her voice trembling. “You really did it.”

“I did,” he said, stepping closer to her.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, he cupped her face gently in his hands. The world seemed to pause, the space between them charged with an intensity that neither of them could deny any longer.

And then he kissed her.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if he was savouring the moment he had dreamed of for so long. But when she leaned into him, her hands clutching his jacket as if to anchor herself, the kiss deepened, becoming a silent promise of everything they were about to face together.

When they finally pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven. He rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her face.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.

She blinked, her eyes shining as she searched his face. “I love you too,” she said softly, her voice breaking slightly. Because she did, she didn’t know when she exactly fell in love with him. Maybe it was when he first came to her house and looked at it with wonder rather than judgement or maybe it was when they shared that intimate moment in the wardrobe.

He smiled, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “Then go,” he said. “Pack your things. This time tomorrow, we’ll be miles away from here. Together.”

She nodded, her resolve strengthening as she stepped back, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she turned and slipped out of the office.

Charles stood there for a moment, the weight of what he’d just done settling in his chest. But for the first time in his life, he felt truly free.

the end.

[tunafruitt]

--> ||❝ The Creator has a.. LOVER?! ❞

SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, gender neutral reader

[ The people of Teyvat find out their grace has been romantically involved with someone for a while now.. what do they think about it? ]

Character(s): NEUVILLETTE, ZHONGLI

-> [ NEUVILLETTE ]

“Oh, the Iudex of Fontaine is the creator’s chosen suitor? Okay.. He’s a qualified and accomplished man. I can see why the creator chose someone like him.”

With the one and only hydro dragon sovereign stuck to your side at all times, it was no surprise to anyone that the two of you had gotten close. But the creator falling in love with him?? That’s different.

Of course, the people of Teyvat had all wished to have a chance with you. And of course, everyone knew it was impossible… but hope is a good thing right? They knew the day would come though, just not so soon..

When the people found out that the Creator had someone they loved more than the usual “I love all of Teyvat equally and platonically.” EVERYONE WENT CRAZY. What do you mean the creator has a LOVER? What do you mean they’ve probably kissed. WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS THE IUDEX OF FONTAINE????

Nevertheless, no one was actually disappointed. They had heard you talk about him through the screen even before you descended to Teyvat. They were glad you were happy… I guess (though they wish it was with them.) Fontaine obviously took pride in having the creator spend a lot of their time residing there, even more pride in the fact that you were romantically involved with a citizen of Fontaine.

─━━ ꯭  ───ׂ��ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

Neuvillette wasn’t quite sure how to react to all of the publicity the news had gotten. Every time the two of you go out together he feels the stares coming from the people around you. The stares weren’t the usual stares he got when he was doing a court trial.. they felt new to him. He was glad that he was at least able to say more affectionate words to you out in public though!

“Monsieur Neuvillette! I’ve heard the recent news.. haha.. so, how’s it being with the Creator? Bet you feel real lucky, huh.“

“I would consider myself lucky to be with Y/N. I feel that no amount of love give—“

“Y/N???? I-I MEAN— YOU’RE ON A FIRST NAME BASIS WITH YOUR GRACE?!”

“I am. Now, if I may continue…”

When he’s not actively working and someone asks him about you, he could yap about you for HOURS. So much to the point people avoid bringing you up even in non-professional events. He’s literally lovestruck. Heart eyes when he looks at you and everything. (everyone’s secretly side-eyeing him… out of jealousy.)

-> [ ZHONGLI ]

“Hm.. The Wangsheng Funeral Consultant..? He is quite a handsome man, but is that all? Of course we respect him! It’s just that.. I expected the Creator’s suitor to be an Archon or something. But if that’s what the creator wants, we should respect their choice right?”

The people of Liyue had begun to put the pieces together. No wonder you were always visiting the Funeral Parlor.. wait, were the times that the both of you were spotted together at Iron Tongue Tian’s Stall listening to the telling of old stories.. DATES?? How could they have only just now realized…

Well, now that the news is out at least you can comfortably hold his hand outside of the Parlor! Not everyone is completely happy with this though.. Who might that be? The other archons of course! They all took pride in being among some of the closest beings in Teyvat to you, but now that they weren’t all equally close to you, feelings of jealousy began to rise.

Zhongli secretly felt smug about that though. I mean, of course anyone would. Being the Creator’s lover is probably the biggest flex in all of Teyvat!! Only certain people are able to even be close to the Creator, not to mention TOUCH them. (which are the playable characters.) Oh, and doing affectionate things like lovers do WITH THE CREATOR?? The things people would do to be in Zhongli’s place.

─━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

You and Zhongli were taking a walk in the city of Liyue as you always do. There was a cool breeze and the orange lights coming from the food stalls gave the atmosphere a comfortable, warm feeling. You looked back at Zhongli who had already been staring at you. He’s about to put his arms around you when out of nowhere—

“Your Grace! Fancy seeing you here.. ehe. Are you here for the Lantern Rite? Oh! You should come to the Windblume Festival again! We’ll make sure to make it extraaa special, just for you. Speaking of special— There’s a new wine back in Mondstadt made specially from the freshest dandelio—“

“Hello, Venti.”

“Oh. Hello Mr. Zhongli. Are you busy right now? If not, the Funeral Parlor is calling for you. You should probably go.”

“The Funeral Parlor is closed today, Venti.”

lmao archons actively trying to get you to spend time with them instead of Zhongli. (They can’t stand to see you hugging, holding hands, and doing all kinds of sappy activities with him)

AGHHH SECOND WRITING EVER!! Had fun ^_^ might do a part 2 with Itto and Xiao (or other characters) feel free to leave recommendations for any other characters!! Likes nd reblogs are much appreciated ^_^

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes Thinking abt Yandere!Neuvillette with a Sovereign!S/O who seeks asylum in Fontaine after years of hiding in Teyvat from the Fatui, Celestia, etc...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The moment you enter the Palais Mermonia, Neuvillette feels your presence; like when the sun peaks through a blanket of clouds on an overcast day, something heavy falls off from his soul, like a curtain opening. His office doors open and you find yourself face-to-face with the only being like you in this land.

Of course Neuvillette can't just drop any of his appointments or cases, so he asks you empathetically to wait out in the lobby until his lunch break. Before he returns to his office, he asks one of the Melusines working to keep an eye on you and to make sure you don't get hurt or run off. His fingers twitch as he takes one last look at you, his eyes searching deep into your soul.

When he's finally finished with all his paperwork and met with several people, he ushers you in his office, his face imperceptible. Beneath his human facade, there are currents of emotions pushing against one another like boiling water: protectiveness, anxiety, fear, jubilance, relief. Neuvillette asks you if you want something to eat. Some water from Monstadt to go along with it, maybe?

He lets you tell your story and listens patiently. His expression, perfected over the course of hundreds of thousands of trials, stays perfectly intact, but the tides of his heart lurch as you tell him about all the atrocities committed to you.

The waters roar, and the dragon stirs.

When you ask for asylum and protection he is quick to agree. Very quick. Almost immediately he promises to set you up with a comfortable apartment, a simple job at the Palais organizing papers, some Mora to help you buy clothes, and whatever else you might need. He has to return to work, unfortunately. But he asks again if you can stay in the Palais Mermonia until he is done with work—or at least his official work—for the night.

Your agreement is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

The rest of the day, Neuvillette cannot think. There is an permanent indentation in his mind now from that first feeling of sensing your presence. The feelings duplicate themselves in his mind until he can hardly grasp his pen. Words on pages turn into soupy mush.

For the first time in centuries, Neuvillette does not stay late to continue working. When the clock strikes seven, he has already neatly organized the work he has to get done on his desk to pick up later. Briefly, his expression eases, thaws in a way, the corners of his lips slightly upturned, a hint of fondness finding its way into his iridescent eyes.

Unfortunately, he says, he can't organize all of the papers and contact all of the people needed right now to get you what he promised. However, he can offer you a guest room in his home. Your agreeance is so beautiful, your smile radiant like the sun and eyes shining like stars. He wants to see you smile. He likes it. Loves it, even.

As the two of you walk through the streets of Fontaine, the energy of the city begins winding down; there are still people clustered at cafes and musicians spouting tunes off into the evening summer air, but already, stars have begun to appear in the dazzling dusk sky.

You say you love the stars. Neuvillette listens with rapt attention, as though he is studying for the most important test of his life. He is an Akademiya scholar, and his Darshan is the study of you.

You are his star.

After the walk home, Neuvillette finds himself blessed by your expression when you gaze into the foyer of his house. It's nothing extraordinary like the opulence of the nobility, but it is upper-class; a quiet luxury permeates through every part of the home, from the banister carved with patterns of the sea to the walls painted a rich, deep blue.

He holds in a laugh when you see a potted plant and gaze at it like it is a miracle of life. Perhaps it is, with its delicate petals and fragrant scent. How—he wonders as he guides you to the guest room, nearly reaching to put his hand on the small of your back before deciding against it—could it survive this long? How did it not get ripped apart or trampled on by beasts and humans alike? The thought lingers in the back of his mind like the last traces of sunlight beaming in through the windows.

Neuvillette files it away.

When he goes to bed, he cannot sleep. Part of him is worried that there is something genuinely wrong with him, that he should seek medical attention. But that's impossible. And he knows it. It is an easy, dismissive lie; thin like ice in late winter. Once he smashes through it, he plunges into something lethal.

Is it wrong, Neuvillette thinks, that he wishes to protect you?

He should rephrase that. It is wrong that he wishes to keep you tucked away somewhere where those beasts will never hurt you again?

He holds a court case in his mind, you versus him. He cards through the evidence. The laws. He goes on a hunt in his archives for a tome on the law when he needs clarification.

When he composes a mental opinion to this rhetorical case, it is after several hours of back-and-forths in his head. But he knows now.

You are a special case, Neuvillette thinks. Cursed by Celestia even, he would say, with how much you have gone through, escaping the clutches of the Fatui and their Harbingers, and countless other evils. He can trace the scars on your hands knowing there are thousands of tragedies written in invisible ink over them. Could he be what decodes those messages? He can. He will.

To put it more plainly, you don't fall under the standard limits of jurisdiction of Fontaine's law. You are a Sovereign, not a citizen of Fontaine, and in addition, you fall under the qualifications of a person in extreme danger. Your very existence is endangered, the elusive essence of your being alluring to the foulest forces in Teyvat. And since the Archon of your element has not rescinded their powers, you are so very vulnerable.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Time passes strangely after that night. The god of time has always been a strange, fickle thing in an immortal being like Neuvillette's eyes, but after meeting you, it has only become more warped.

You go out to cafes together. Neuvillette buys you a croissant. You ask him what lavender tastes like. He describes it the best he can, and you buy a lavender latte. You and him share easy, pleasant conversation on a small streetside patio. That is just one morning. There will be an infinite number of mornings like that, but they will all carry that insurmountable significance to Neuvillette. Just like your smile. Your face. Your eyes. Hair. Nose. Everything. Anything. All of it.

This is love. It must be.

Days float on by like meandering clouds, the guest room slowly transforms into your room, and the thought of an apartment is abandoned. Neuvillette asks you to start helping him organize papers in his office, find the right tome he needs on Fontaine's laws from his expansive shelves. He buys you clothes in shades of blue, gray, and white, your outfit's color palette harmonizing perfectly with his. Your days are spent constantly together, going from home to the Palais Mermonia, back home, maybe going out for dinner or some other excursion like an opera or show, and Neuvillette is pleased.

Pleased because you have not tried to fight against this. Pleased that you are just as affected as he is. Pleased that he wakes every day knowing you are safe in your home. Pleased that you are his.

His grasp slowly tightens around you like a gardener lining his pruners up against a flower. His hands clasp yours. They draw around your back. Cup your cheek. Brush your lip. When a stranger finds themselves talking to you, Neuvillette's gravity draws you back in, like the earth and the moon. The stranger is simply a speck of dust in this cosmos, never to fall into your shared orbit again.

When you finally kiss after months of this slow pull, Neuvillette knows it is over. You are his. Your room is now his room. Your bed now his bed. Your love is now his love. Your life is now his life. And you know it. And he knows it. And you both know it's for the best.

He will protect you. His rose.

His star.

His love.

Forever.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Not-So-Common-Sense (Part 22)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

“Ghosts are a sovran people, more than that we’re a sovereign nation,” Hyena boomed, speaking over the assembly as he demanded everyone stop whispering and pay attention to him. He glared at the assembled leaders as he transformed in sparks and flashes, hair turning white and muzzle transforming into a snarling skull until he was fully ghost. “And I am done listening to all of this bullshit, so enough debating. Now explain to the Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms why you have allowed these people to violate my people’s rights and hold me captive.” Danny-No Phantom demanded.

He was glad he didn’t have a heart to be pounding in his chest as with a wave of his hand he created a throne of ice and sat down in it. He pushed his mask up and as it dissolved a circlet of shimmering ice formed around his brow. It wasn’t the official crown, he had yet to take the crown of flame but it was just a bit of showmanship to add to the effect. He needed these people to take him seriously after all. Jason stepped up to stand beside him, and to Danny’s surprise Deadman came down to take the other side, leaving Ellie to perch on the back of his makeshift throne, draping herself comfortably there. Danny settled himself more comfortably and confidently in his chair, and in his new role because whether he was ready or not it was time to act and he had the people who mattered behind him without question.

“Explain to me why we should not go to war.” Danny demanded in a terrifying shadow of his ghostly wail.

“What, no, the ghosts don’t have any sort of leader or structure. They’re completely disorganized,” Agent W insisted. 

“That’s not true,” Deadman said, shaking his head. “Ghosts follow the strong and have always been a monarchy. We haven’t had an active king in centuries, since the last one went mad but it is well known that, when he is ready to, Phantom will be able to claim the throne. He is not lying about his position in the Infinite Realms and many spirits will follow him to war should he command it.”

“Including you?” Batman asked in a tone of mild curiosity that wasn’t fooling anyone that actually knew him. 

“I recognize Phantom’s authority. The only reason I didn’t bow and acknowledge him when he answered the Justice League’s call the first time was that he asked me not to. More importantly many others, including multiple Ancients, recognize his authority and will follow him if he asks even if he is not yet the true king. His threats are not idle.” 

“He should not be making threats at all! This is a diplomatic meeting,” One of the leaders exclaimed indignantly.

“Oh is it?” Danny asked, raising his eyebrows. “Because it sounded like what you were about to do was excuse and pardon their crimes against me and my people and offer them more resources. If that’s not what’s happening and you were about to mete out proper consequences then by all means, carry on and prove me wrong,” Danny said with a ‘go on’ gesture of one hand and leaned back in his chair, looking down his nose at the assembly. 

Silence hung awkward and heavy over the room, which was all the confirmation Danny needed of the bad direction things were starting to go. He tried very hard not to fidget under the eyes of so many people. He knew that he was the prince, he was going to be the king overseeing basically an entire dimension with other monarchs and leaders under him, he was of a higher rank than anyone here! If only he wasn’t still so young, with so much more to learn. Speaking of which...

“How do you people deal with crimes like imprisonment and torture without cause? There are punishments for these things aren’t there?” Danny asked, cocking his head. He’d never paid much attention to politics, and what little he knew about politics didn’t really give him much hope for how this would be handled. 

“Of course there are,” Diana said calmly, once again trying to force the room to move on or get left behind. He really did admire her ability to control the room as much as she did. “Since there is no question of the crimes the Ghost Investigation Ward did commit, the only question is what the consequences will be.” She looked around, but it seemed this time her attempt to nudge the leaders along had failed. 

“With all due respect, ‘Your Majesty’,” Agent W directed at Danny, not even trying to hide her skepticism and contempt of his title. It made Danny bristle and got his hackles up immediately. To her credit, she didn’t flinch under his glowing glare. “It’s not our job to protect your people, we need to protect our own.” 

Danny heard a few murmurs of agreement, he looked down for a moment thinking about that and trying not to bite his lip. He should stay, he should try to argue further and come to a peaceful solution, but he had been doing that for years! He had always just avoided the humans who hunted him, he had barely even defended himself from them for years, and he was done trying to be nice, to play by their rules.  

“Right,” He said, standing up and surveying the collective leaders. “Who agrees with her perspective?” He asked scanning the collective.

There was a moment's hesitation before hands started to raise. He nodded firmly and looked back at Agent W. “Good, you protect your people,” he sneered, “ and I’ll do the same. Red Hood, Phantasm, let’s go,” Danny said and turned away, taking Hood’s hand and pulling him out through the wall, Phantasm followed. When Danny noticed Deadman looking torn, Danny gave him a small smile; “Stay with your team, there should still be one of us in the room. If they come to their senses let me know.”

He left the room through the wall and let invisibility cloak them as he grabbed Phantasm as well and flew straight up into the sky, not so high that Jason would struggle to breath but far enough they’d be guaranteed privacy. He let go of Phantasm since she could float on her own but kept Jason held close so gravity could not reclaim them.

“So, you’re not just giving up,” Jason said casually, “So, you have a plan?”

“Yes I have a plan,” Phantom agreed with a solemn nod. “It’s not my first choice, and I don’t really want to talk about it in case it fails. If it works I’ll let you know, if not you can help me brainstorm a plan B. Okay?” He glanced at the two of them, Jason didn’t hesitate in agreeing, Phantasm looked worried, but she nodded too. “Thank you. Phantasm take Jason please, you two stay put. I need to go… get something, and I have a feeling they’ll be calling us back soon once they see the storm they’ve unleashed on themselves.” He said with a thin smile. 

“Right?” Phantasm said, she still sounded uncertain but she offered Jason her hand, and when he took it she took over keeping gravity at bay. 

Danny smiled and drifted closer, kissing Jason’s helmet softly. “I’ll be back soon, just trust me okay?” He asked, ruffling Ellie’s hair. 

“I always trust you, Cub,” Jason said, sounding tired but fond even through the helmet’s modulators. 

“Just… don’t do anything stupid string-bean,” Ellie sighed. 

“I’ll try pipsqueak,” Danny agreed before speeding away from both of them. 

He needed to find his way back into the Ghost Zone but that wouldn’t be easy but it was far from impossible. There were natural portals opening up somewhere in the galaxy all the time, and Danny could get back in contact with Wulf somehow if he needed to. How he wasn’t sure, but he was on a time crunch so he had better figure it out fast. He didn’t want to leave Ellie and Jason hanging and time was of the essence. He had a feeling he could sense portals if he really tried, other ghosts seemed to know where they were after all! He just needed to get away from any distractions, to where his mind was clearest and his core shone the brightest, and for him that would always be space.

Once he was far enough away that the earth was a frisbee amongst the stars Danny settled into a cross legged position and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath he didn’t need and exhaled slowly, trying to remember what little he knew about meditation and, like, opening one’s third eye. 

“Alright portal, where are you,” He murmured rolling his shoulders, only to jump out of his skin when he heard a crackle and boom right under him. He shot up as he opened his eyes, half expecting an attack only to see a swirling green portal directly under him. “Great, of course,” He sighed, and let himself drop into it. 

The green resolved into the large foyer of the ghost kings palace surrounded by the observants and a few ancients. 

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Chorused the observants.

“Great, how long have you guys been watching me? Fucking weirdos,” Danny muttered, but he couldn’t stay angry as Frostbite cheered and rushed in to hug him, scooping him up in a bearhug that would have cracked a rib if he had any. Clockwork followed more slowly, moving slowly and leaning on his cane, a thin smile on his elderly lips. 

“It is good to see you, Young One. I'm sorry I know you haven’t had an easy time. I’ve been watching over you but didn’t feel it was possible for me to step in. Despite it all, you’ve done really well,” Clockwork said. He looked nervous, and Danny couldn’t blame him, he couldn’t count the number of times he had cursed Clockwork when things were at their worst, for not intervening to save him, but now…

“It's alright, I made it out and I found a new purpose. I assume if you had saved me I would have just spiralled or something like that?” He asked with a crooked smile that was really more of a grimace. It wasn't really okay, it would never be okay that Danny had lost his family and a part of him would never forgive Clockwork for having had the power to stop it and didn't. But he had also learned there was no point in holding Clockwork to human or present focused morals, he had his reasons and felt justified. Trying to hold Clockwork accountable would be counterproductive and maddening, he did trust Clockwork meant well.

“Something like that,” Clockwork agreed, mirroring Danny’s expression as he reversed into his child form. The expression looked very odd on his child-like face. 

“We've been waiting for you,” the Observants chorused again, apparently impatient with the reunion. “Are you ready to take the crown?”

“Wow hello to you too,” Danny sassed, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous collective of giant eyeballs. “Yes, I'm ready,” Danny agreed, standing straight and holding his head high. He looked sure, even though he really wasn’t, but there was no putting this off any longer. “Release Pariah Dark and I'll be waiting for him in the world of our last battle.”

“That is not how-” 

“I don't care if that's not how it's done, that's how I'm going to do it,” Danny interrupted the Observants. He really hasn't spent much time with them after his first defeat of Pariah and his capture but he was already familiar with the phrase.

“It is tradition to-” they started again and Danny interrupted with a growl. 

“If I'm going to be king, this is a good time to get in the habit of obeying me. Release him, I'm sure he'll want revenge so he can find me in the world of our last confrontation and I'll defeat him properly this time, on my terms,” Danny insisted, bearing his teeth in a snarl. He knew that they weren't pleased, but he didn't care, he didn't plan on his rule to be dictated by trading so they could get used to it. 

The Observants didn't have any mouths but he was sure that if they did they would look like they'd just bitten into a lemon. He'd never really understood why they were like this, Pariah Dark couldn't have been particularly obedient to tradition, but maybe he’d been gone so long they'd forgotten what it was actually like to have a ruler and only had the idealized version from inside their own minds. “As you wish,” they agreed sourly.

“That’s better,” Danny smiled thinly, there was little joy in this situation but he could find some in pissing off these uptight bastards. He nodded to them and looked back at Clockwork, he must know what Danny was planning and Danny was a bit surprised Clockwork didn't seem to have any objections. When he had intervened before it had been to stop Danny going ‘bad’. Maybe this time was different because Danny wasn’t planning to cause the damage himself, just… allow it to happen.

“You will be a good kind Danny,” Clockwork said softly. “Sometimes a leader has to compromise their own values to do what’s best for their people.”

“Ya, I’m not sure that’s what I’m doing Clockwork, those people hurt me worst of all, I think I have some pretty personal motivations,” Danny said bitterly.

“Even so,” Clockwork said with a shrug and a knowing smile that set Danny’s teeth on edge.

“Right,” He grumbled as he turned and walked back through the still open portal before turning and slashing through it from the other side. They would have a hard time opening another in the exact same location, not that Danny was planning on sticking around here, but the less of the universe and the more of Earth Pariah would have to rip through before he found Danny the better. He grinned far too wide and rocketed back towards earth. 

He had done it! Pariah would be right on his heels and that bastard had no respect for human life. He would give the stupid humans something to fear~ By the end of the day they’d be groveling and begging for Danny to save them, and maybe he even would, if they asked very nicely. 

He stopped on a dime next to his fiance and little sister again. They both jumped at his sudden appearance which made Danny laugh, Jason had taken off his helmet and his look of shock was particularly amusing! It was usually so hard to sneak up on the hypervigilant man. Danny reached out to take Jason back from Ellie and settled himself comfortably in Jason's lap while Jason wrapped his arms firmly around Danny's waist so he wouldn't fall. Ellie mimed gagging at the display of affection but didn't say anything. 

“So, what did you do Danny? You weren't gone long enough to have gotten that far. Did it not work out?” Jason asked curiously and Danny gave him an impish smile.

“Oh no, it worked. I'm sure the Justice League will be calling us in just a few minutes once word gets to them about what just entered their dimension.” Even as Danny was talking he felt the change, the wave of dark energy that had just broken through the barrier between worlds. He didn't react, but it made Ellie stumble. 

Danny remembered this dark energy from last time he'd fought Pariah but he had thought that was just because he had been nearby. It was disconcerting to know it could be felt at such a distance by those sensitive enough. Danny was sure he could handle this, but for a moment he was still worried he'd bitten off more than he could chew. 

“Danny, what did you do?” She asked, sounding seriously worried.

“I released Pariah Dark,” he told her plainly, no point being cryptic now since this wasn't exactly a fun surprise. Her look of horror was cold water dumped on the burning coals of his rage and he winced.  “Go back to your team Starlight, keep them safe but don't get yourself in trouble. This is… not going to be pretty,” he told her gently. He wasn't ashamed of what he was doing, not really. But he did worry about how she would feel about him afterwards, especially if one of her friends was hurt in the fall out. 

Jason's phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket as Ellie rushed away from the two of them, back towards Titans tower. Danny watched her go, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t call her back and selfishly try to keep her safe. She and Jason were the ones he loved most but it would be selfish to hold her safely prisoner, especially when Jason's family was bound to be out there too.

“That can't be them already?” Danny asked Jason worriedly, forcing himself to look away from Phantasm’s retreating form to check the notification on Jason’s phone. She was strong and clever, she’d be alright, he needed to have faith in her. 

“It's not, it's an emergency alert. He didn’t waste any time fucking shit up did he?” Jason asked, unlocking his phone and opening social media. It was already starting to flood with half corrupted videos and pictures of Pariah Dark and his army of skeletons. He had landed somewhere in the US by the looks of things, which Danny was glad of, and all the videos were full of screaming and fire. Occasionally he bellowed demands for Danny to show himself, but they were in ghost speak so none of the humans understood what he was asking for. 

“Damn that's one big mother fucker,” Jason whistled. “So that's the mad king?” 

“Yes,” Danny sighed, leaning his head against Jason’s chest. “Now we just see how long it takes for those idiots down there to realize the GIW's weapons are like water guns to him. I'm not going to negotiate with them anymore, but I will accept their surrender and once they've agreed to all my terms I'll deal with him.” 

“Isn’t he coming for you? Why’s he in America?” Jason asked as he kept refreshing his social media feed. 

“He can’t tell where I am, I could find him but I’m less flashy then he is, and I got used to minimizing my ecto-signature to avoid the GIW. Pretty sure he’s hoping that if he causes destruction he’ll smoke me out since last time I fought him it was to protect my town. Not this time, it’s not my job to protect these people anymore, they’ve made it very clear they don’t want me too,” Danny sneered, rolling his eyes.

Jason nodded gravely, and hugged Danny more tightly, he knew this hadn't been an easy choice. Danny nestled in against Jason's chest, his eyes glowing brighter than usual with anger and sorrow. 

“How are you feeling, Moonlight?” Jason asked softly. They had some time as the GIW rushed to arrive on scene and prove how useless they were. “This means that you’re going to be king after this doesn’t it?” 

“I'm not sure how I feel,” Danny sighed, biting his lip for a moment before continuing. “I wish it felt better, more righteous. I wanted revenge but most of the people being hurt had no idea what their government was even doing, and they're suffering for it, so I can't really feel good about it anymore. But I also don't exactly feel bad about it either, you know? And a part of me wishes I did because I tried so hard to be good when I was younger and how little I care now feels like a failure. 

“But then again I guess it was Sam that really insisted I use my powers for good. I was a teenage boy and other than protecting my friends my first instincts were to sneak into the girls locker room, and douse my bully in half spoiled meat. Maybe I was just never that good.” He sighed, hanging his head and trying to swallow down the uncomfortable knot of shame and dread in his stomach. 

“As for being king, I never really wanted to be king, but Clockwork seems to think that’ll just make me a better king, I hope he’s right. And I do think I'm ready, with you, your siblings, and Ellie I finally feel like I have a firm foundation again. Your proposal felt like the last puzzle piece I needed to feel whole, I'm as ready as I'll ever be.” 

“You are good Danny, and you'll be a good king, but even good people have their breaking point. It's their fault they pushed you to yours. The Justice League and the Teen Titans will be on the scene to help evacuate soon and I’m sure it won’t be too long before those idiots down there will realize they’re up shit’s creek and call for help soon.”

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑀𝑦 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛 𝐶𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑...

Inspiration: this, this, this, this,

A/N: As per request, and a high demand, this is like a part of the Creator!Reader AU drabble I wrote some time ago! Though there is a mention about a gender in the end, since the Creator/God of Teyvat could change genders/ forms if wanted, I didn't see a problem with that one!

A/N: PLEASE SEND ME SOME NEUVI NEUVI FLUFF REQUESTS ( especially papa ones with melusines) I'M BEGGING! THIS ONE TOOK A HUGE TOLL ON ME LOL AND BECAUSE MY MIND ONLY WORKS FOR ANGST AND LORE THESE DAYS, I NEED A DISTRACTION-

Warnings: THIS SHIT IS LONG, LIKE VERY! Hints, not so much now, of Neuvi Neuvi being the Hydro Dragon and the Sovereign, hints of past abuse and violence but not detailed, reader being a simp in general

Part1

Ever since coming to the nation of justice, and obviusly water, you had never felt such immense comfort and safety at the mostly silent city, with water sounds mixing. After running away from almost all the nations with the exception of Sumeru, Snezhnaya, Natlan and of course Fontaine whose eyes weren't blinded by anything and rather listened to you, sheltered you and gave you friends after being on the wild all on your own...

The calm and safety you felt was weird.

After all, it wasn't you who asked to be the Creator of this game you loved dearly. You were just a simple, non-important human in your world. Going to school and work, study, try to stay alive, make food for yourself, sleep and repeat the cycle...

And suddenly, you were the "Beloved" Creator of all these characters? But they still hunted you down and there were a few who supported you?? And now you were playing with the tiny and adorable melusines by the pond while being married with the one you loved?

You would have said bullshit on Earth but now, as you giggled at the many melusines fighting for your attention while one of the much younger ones laid between your arms with short and warm breaths fanning your neck softly...

Maybe all the trouble you went through was worth it.

"I want to braid Their Grace's hair!"

"You already did it yesterday, and the day before that too!"

You watched as Puca and Serene bickered together, both of them pushing the other away behind you and tugging on your hair rather harshly without realizing from time to time. You already knew that wincing would make things worse, since they were all so fond of you that they hated the idea of inflicting you with any kind of pain and would wail which would later leave you with hundreds of melusines to comfort with an awkward smile.

It had gotten bad especially after the eldest of them told how "bad things" happened to you... but now You had them and their "papa" and were happier than ever!

"Their Grace will have a date with Monsieur Neuvillette~ So, let's stop bickering and make Them even more pretty!" A fierce blush took over your whole face, warming your cheeks cutely as the younger melusines cooed and giggled, holding onto their hands together and jumping up and down excitedly at the fact that their "papa" and "Mama/dad" were going out like the spouses they saw on the streets of Fontaine. You didn't... exactly have a gender, and considering you appeared in different forms for safety to other nations, especially Inazuma and Liyue who had been... rather passionate about killing you, you would often come back to the loving embrace of your husband and daughters tired, completely forgetting about your form which was different than the one they always saw you.

It still made you stiffle laughs whenever you remembered the way the melusines gasped and looked at you and their papa snuggled under a blanket so lovingly like he always did with their mama/dad...

Poor things cried their eyes out because they thought Neuvilette was being unfaithful to you and didn't stop until they truly saw you and ran at you, never leaving your side at all and gave their papa nasty eyes... which made him also cry because he never thought of such thing happening, not when even his eyes wouldn't stray from your glowing body as you slotted your fingers with his, swinging your joined hands proudly while walking around the city with him next to you as he blushed and softly looked at you.

Not when his unbeating heart, after you disappeared, started to beat once again at your fragile form in the courtroom and he put his coat over your shivering form, eyes glossy with gratefulnes as you accepted it with shaky hands and a silent and meek thank you that pierced and squeezed his chest.

Not when he finally found his mate, his true love, though it was the Creator he always held affection for and waited for millenias for you to return back once more to grace him with your light.

No one could deny the obvious feelings between you and the Chief Justice who wouldn't be too far away from you ever since you entered the city and looked at him with fearful eyes, even when you two weren't courting yet alone being married. No one blamed you for your obvious fear, they caught wind of what happened and had a brief idea after all. So, instead, they acted kind to you and offered to tell you about themselves and the city after you begged them (which felt wrong because weren't they supposed to be on their knees for you?) to call you by your name and act normal. Through time, they saw how happier and more expressive you had become at the way they acted with you, often seeing you play with the children or help out Lady Furina with meetings, or just sit with them for a lunch as they talked about the latest gossips or trends...

Such as how the other nations were suffering because of the lack of your presence, and how theirs were flourishing even more as the days passed.

Even the people knew how jealous the other nations and their people were that Fontaine was the city you favoured, that their archon was your friend and the next important person, their Chief Justice, was your spouse. And people of Fontaine was extremely smug and happy about it, happier than they had ever been, at the fact that the Creator wanted to share Their eternity with their Chief Justice, that he was the one who held your affection and love. Neuvilette seemed like he never cared about what people said about him, at least about the Chief Justice part of him. He judged according to the laws, which he soon realized was flawed, and did his reports religiously. To the outside, he was a stern and cold man who could never be tender for another, love them as if he was holding a fragile glass, and wanting to protect his love, their love and smile and everything that made him love that one special person.

Yet, the truth couldn't be further from the truth.

Yes, that unloving and cold part of him was a side he often used to not show how affected he would become after every harsh comment... But only those closest to him, melusines and now you, knew it to be completely fake and that Neuvilette always wanted to do his damn best and even more for his people.

You didn't understand why everyone seemed to make you stay away from him when you first started to wander in the city with him not so behind you. He insisted that he would accompany you (after you begged him to go out for fresh air or else you were about to explode out of boredom and he caved in at your puppy eyes) and introduce the city, knowing very well that the people could be rather instantaneous , rash at the first sight of you and you didn't like sudden moves after the events obviously, so he told you that he would be close enough to intervene if something were to happen and enjoy yourself as much as you can.

But there was one thing he didn't consider that day, one thing you didn't have an idea happening which made you whiplash so suddenly that the melusine you held hands with shrunk and thightened her hand over yours, scared: The obvious distaste of the sweet Melusines, even now, and the man that had been nothing but sweet to you, taking care of you at rough nights and whispered sweet things to you.

Going as far as letting you sleep on the couch in his office after much bickering, him insisting that a divine being such as yourself only deserved silk and the softest of beds Teyvat could offer and you whining out that it was him that you needed as you cuddled up to his long coat with a sweet and sleepy smile.

But you didn't like how people were so against him, so hellbent on making you realize that he wasn't a good choice, that he was made out of cold stone and nothing else.

That he didn't know how to even love.

But...

They didn't know how it was you that he had let himself go, to enjoy the simple side of life.

They didn't know how you would catch him staring at and feeding the otters, which you often affectionately called "mini Neuvi", with the softest and most adorable face he ever had and then flush when you caught him in the middle of his petting session and joined him, crouching down next to him.

They didn't know how his heart pounded at being close to you, witnessing your love and kindness to everything and everyone around you from being close to you and how you often held onto his arm thight as you both strolled around with flushed cheeks, under the teasing eyes of the elders of Fontaine who commented how cute you both looked together and how your eyes shone brighter.

He really wanted to know if it was because of the comments or your happiness for being treated like normal bir he didn't know he would learn it soon...

Or, they didn't know how he wished to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you against himself protectively, as if everyone outside was a life-threatening danger to you.

They didn't know the way he silently loomed close to you but still remained in the shadows, just enough to watch you have fun, and smile wide with his own little one tugging on his lips.

They didn't know that he enjoyed it the most whenever you brought whatever you baked, with one of the melusines behind you walking happily, and brought it to him as a thanks for all he did for you. No one has ever done this much for me, you would say and he had to refrain from taking your chin between his gloved hand and softly wipe that frown away. For you, anything he wanted to say many times but always refrained from doing so but as he gazed at your eyes at the time...

He knew you already knew about what he wanted to say, what he wanted to do as your eyes locked in his amethyst eyes and pink lips, chest to chest and standing so close to each other that your breaths mingled together as you both just... Stared at each other.

And they didn't know how he wanted to kiss you, how much you wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to yourself while messing with his perfectly-done hair... To bask in the happiness only he was able to give you, surrounded by perhaps otters and your sweet "daughters" and just... knowing each other.

They didn't know him like you did.

And they didn't know the sweet melusines like you did either.

And... Well, perhaps, they also didn't know how protective you were of them and the wrath of you was a power to beckon with when challenged.

"Born from Calamity, you say. He brings only devestation and pain to those close to him, you say..." your voice, calm yet still had a hidden threatening tone, was carried by the Wind on your command and towards right into their ears. The group that was talking shit behind your family all stiffened up, knowing that they had the attention of their Creator in the worst way possible.

Little Puca's hand shook between yours, which made your anger skyrocket even more, her eyes scaredly looking around as she shuffled closer to your long clothes and held on for dear life. She knew about the dislike from humans through her older sisters but... she didn't think it was this bad even now after many years.

What had they done wrong, except working hard and waiting for the people's approval?

"Y-Your Grace, w-we didn't mean to-"

"You are telling me that you didn't mean to say my daughters couldn't be trusted because you don't know where they are from, and since my husband loves them so much, in extension, he also couldn't be trusted?" You pushed whatever words this... woman had to say right back into her throat as she shivered from terror at your cold, glimmering eyes that held the universe in them pierced through her harshly and she had nothing else to do except bow in shame and hope to be forgiven...

Wrong move though.

"Do you think of me... perhaps, stupid?" You sneered angrily, stopping in the middle of your sentence in fake thinking with a curious finger tapping your chin as absolute and undeniable horror filled the people.

"N-Never, Your Grace-!"

"Then how dare you lie to my face and talk shit about my family? Who do you think you are?" Your voice rang menacingly all over Fontaine, all the water and even Wind stopping, as those who had been nothing but rude to the melusines cowered in fear and those who always stood on their side smiled proudly. You already heard enough, knew that you had been silent for so long which ended up with your family being hurt far longer than they should have and now, the time was over.

With slow and silent steps, you stood before the woman who lifted her head hopefully to look at your face but soon horror found her at the blank face you gave her with your contrasting soft hands holding her face.

"I have been patient, for you all to realize your mistake and fix it but if this goes on any longer... If I need to inflict fear so that your filthy words wouldn't taint my family... Then so be it."

With your final words, you picked Puca up and craddled her between your arms lovingly, whispering sweet soothing words as you told her how papa must have been worried and that you two had to go and meet with the rest as soon as possible.

As the little melusine rambled about whatever picked her interest that day, the fright from before long forgotten as you listened attentively but soon frowned when you felt the cooling sensation of... water, over your face.

And lo behold, soon after your brief talk, it started to rain softly.

You really hoped that your husband didn't hear the commotion, knowing how much it would hurt his gentle heart to hear the people he swore to protect still treat him and his daughters badly. You knew how... Carole's sacrifice affected him, how he started to not trust people and turn his emotions off because of how painful it was for him.

He was the one who told you this, after another nightmare where he couldn't do anything to protect his family, and sobbed on your chest with his beautiful hair all messy, eyes swollen and red as he begged you to forgive him, still affected by the gruesome sight of your body and his hands covered in large gushes and golden blood. And even then, he was the most beautiful sight you ever laid your eyes on.

But, to your horror, he did hear it.

But cried for an entire different reason.

And not long after, it started to rain... which made you think back to all the times it poured, You stared at the sky with a lovesick smile over your face as you stared at Neuvillette's slightly-shaking back, who thought he hid himself well behind the stone sculpture of yours, already planning to go to his office later to comfort your big baby.

Still thinking back to all the times when your sensitive, lovely and gentle husband who appeared to be cold but was actually the cutest man/dragon alive, cried and made it rain... Feared that he ruined everything once again but you begged to differ.

To you, it was the most beautiful show of his own feelings.

1.He saw a cute otter

"Hello, mini Neuvi! How are you?"

This time of the day was perhaps, the most funny and relaxing one for you. Because, after so much work and paper and also Furina's drama, you really needed to blow off some steam and just enjoy your life. Fontaine was a beautiful nation, but sometimes... You just wished to see other ones from more of a close eye, especially Sumeru.

It has been such a long time that you were starting to forget the beautiful greenery there, and how much you enjoyed hanging out with the others who became your friends quickly.

You definetly didn't miss Cyno's dad-jokes and how the others stared in shock when you snorted at one of them-

But, you were happy with where your life was right now. You were safe, happy, had the cutest animals around you, and then there were the sweet and ever-helpfull melusines who were always at your back and call with pretty much anything and...

There was Neuvillette.

You giddily laughed and put your hair behind your ear shyly, even the mention of the usually composed and calm yet so easily flustered man made your heart burst and dance. You wanted to believe that there was something sparking between you two after the many times you hung out with him, and the many times everyone told you that no, Chief Justice never just "hung out" with people and that this was a first.

Probably what sealed the deal for you, and pretty much everyone, was the way he... very obviously had softened gradually.

It was the subtle way he made sure you were okay, always buying a nicely done bouqet on his way for you and slowly, starting to smile more. People, before you came along, often was scared to talk to him because of his "brooding personality". They thought he was someone hard to talk with, which at first was true. The usually expressionless face he always wore made people stay away, and loose the best kind of companionship they could have had by not trying harder to understand him.

Because, deep down, you saw the longing eyes he gave to the couples in Fontaine or the best friends hanging out together happily. He really wanted to have that too, he just didn't know how and therefore, he was seen as heartless and uncaring for any attachments when it was the most wrong thing he ever could be.

Not that you had any complaints, even if that treatment sometimes saddened you, you were happy that it was you he chose to show that side of him even if it was as a result of... a traumatic experience.

"I brought you, and your whole family the most yummy snacks ever! Made by none other than me!" You shook your head at the thoughts to focus on the cute otters who were swimming where you were simply floating, making excited sounds at seeing both their creator and "mama/dada".

A/N: I just want a horde of melusines and otters in my home, is that too much to ask? 🥲🥹

Giggling at their enthusiasm, you happily followed them around for almost all the afternoon and you couldn't lie, it was the best swimming you ever had, with a worry-free mind and heart.

That was, of course, until you felt a panicked presence close before warm hands (contrasting to the cool water around you) circled your middle and a relieved breath on your ear made goosebumps appear on your skin.

"I was worried, Your Grace... No one has seen you today." Your body relaxed visibly at his rich and soothing voice and slacked back ahainst his chest, his arms thightening around your waist without noticing and inhaling your shampoo deeply with a content smile.

"Oh... Yes, I needed some alone time to myself. I'm sorry if I worried you so much." You sheepishly looked at him while still in his soft embrace and he looked down slightly at your face, crinkled with happiness and then, smiled.

Which, obviously, made your heart stop for a second as you internally gushed at how handsome he was.

"It's okay... I know you can protect yourself. Though I wonder what had taken your attention this much?"

An excited gasp left you when you remembered your children and looked around to see them behind a rock, peeking from the corner to look at you fearfully, unsure if it was safe for them to come out again.

"I came to meet my children! Come on, darlings! He is a friend, you are safe with him!"

Neuvillette widened his eyes at your form who was immediately swarmed with the otters, all clinging onto you as soon as the words left your mouth and he couldn't will his heart to stop pounding his chest at the blissful and motherly smile over your face.

It had been some time that he finally admit his feelings for you, after having a long lecture from Furina and Navia herselves about love, feelings and how a romantic relationship works. They literally forced him to look deeper into his heart and just feel what he feels when he is around you, what he wants to do and wished to happen etc. They already had enough of their favourite ship not sailing yet, Furina just wanted some action and Navia... well, she knew he was a good man now and didn't deserve to be lonely all the time so she was eager to help.

Safe to say, even they were shocked and teary-eyed at how sensitive, sensual and romantic he was when it came to you.

And those feelings only intensified with each passing day, after he was more aware of his body's, the dragon in him's reactions to you and what you did.

And right now, they were purring contently and proudly at watching you interact with your children.

Even the thought of such thing excited him and he had to cough to mask his embrassment when you two... weren't an "item" as Lynette and Lyney used to say while giggling just like any other teenager in Fontaine.

He didn't know what "being an item" meant, this was teenagers after all and their language was weird.

"Come here, mini Neuvi! I know you want this yummy fish snack- Neuvillette, are you okay?"

Well, he definetly didn't expect to hear you call an otter... with his name. He was a mighty dragon, a Sovereign for Celestia's sake, not a small and weak creature!

But as he looked at you swinging the cute otter side to side, pointing at every feature that was very much like him according to you from the blue streaks they had, how they loved swimming, head pats and rolling in the water and how they adored being fed (something he regretted ever telling you about and letting you do it just because he wanted you to do so, that the dragon side of him submitted to you, going as far as letting you pat him and feed him, showing weakness), there was nothing he could do except sigh defeatedly and watch you play with the now horde of them as they all made happy sounds at you.

But really? Did you really have to call the otter between your arms which was cuddling up to you "Mini Neuvi"?

Did you really have to make him blush as he imagined what your supposedly-not-here-yet children might look like as they also cuddled up to your warm embrace, chanting your name?

"Oh My- Neuvillette, there is smoke coming out of you! What the-" your eyes widened at him as you worriedly swam to where he was slightly bent over, hair and hand trying and failing to hide his deep blush and giddy smile as you fussed over him.

Yeah, he had to have better control of his emotions and... bodily reactions from now on.

2. I kissed him under the rain

"As if it wasn't bad already, It's raining again!"

"Ugh, again? There goes my travel plans..."

"I wonder what's wrong with the Hydro Dragon enough to make him cry all the time..."

"This rain is ruining everything-!"

All his life, he listened to and watched people of Fontaine complain about the rain. How it destroyed their shops, how their plans were ruined and how they would surely get sick after this rain... Most of them knew about the Hydro Dragon legend, and as selfish as it might have sounded, he wished people would be at least a little bit worried over him.

Expecting this much wasn't wrong after all, right? He never thought or demanded the people to enjoy rain, he knew it could be a huge hassle to deal with a heavy storm and the mud that came with it.

But never in his eons of life, did he see someone as pecular as you, dancing and laughing under the rain but still held a somewhat thoughtful frown.

"Why are you not running away?"

He blushed at how the question left his mouth so suddenly, turning his head to not look at you as you halted and turned to him with a confused stare but soon grinned like an excited kid.

"Why would I? It's so refreshing and the rain feels nice on my skin!" You couldn't help yourself and jump on a little puddle on the ground and splash water everywhere, gleefully running around as Neuvillette's eyes were trained on you intensely.

He... didn't understand humans most of the times but you? You were another kind of enigma for him as you ran happily and pushed the wet locks of your hair away from your face which usualy irritated most of the women. You were definetly going to get sick, have a runny nose and probably feel fatigued all day... but as you slapped your wet cheeks to make sure all of this was real, and that you were finally here all happy, the sickness that would come after this seemed worthy.

But, Neuvillette had been more silent than you were used to...

Not hearing or seeing any reaction from him, you slowly came to an end in your little game and tilted your head at his expressionless face. "Do you... hate the rain?"

A sudden realization came over at his bashful and solemn face, the downward turn of hisblips and the slight bite he gave to himself. "Oh..."

"Yes..." he muttered under his breath and looked down, eyes brimming with tears and stinging his eyes but hidden by his own wet hair. His face was already flushed from the cold, and perhaps by the sight of your clothes clinging on your body and showing off some of your skin and curves.

Or maybe, the bright yet understanding smile on your face as you tilted your head at him was what made him stop and lift his eyes and stare at you dumbfounded.

And make his own tears pour even harder.

"How can anyone hate the rain?" You asked softly and he knew... He knew you didn't mean just the rain, but himself. He wondered if you were aware of the implication of your words, whether you knew the truth about him or not but frankly enough...

He didn't care.

If it was you who knew, but still didn't say anything, he was fine with his secret out for one more person.

Unaware of his newfound ambition to just "seal the deal" today and finally take the scary yet exciting step into the future, you continued to talk with your hands out in a cupping position, letting the cold rain water collect in the middle of your hands.

"It's a blessing of this world to the people who lives on soil. It is to refresh both us and the soil, the air and the waters so that humans can live. But..." Slowly lowering them down and watching the water run down over your arms, you fiddled with your hands anxiously, contemplating whether it was okay to say what was in your mind since it was a rather sensitive topic for him, with no one else knowing his true identity or name.

You didn't exactly know when you realized it, or whether you knew from the beginning or not but now that you did... Neuvillette wouldn't spend even one more minute alone anymore, you would make sure that he would be happy and loved and would never feel as if he didn't belong anywhere.

But it seemed Neuvillette was very adamant on hearing the rest of your sentence since he took a step towards you and stared down at you with his chest rising up and down rapidly in anticipation, his breath warming your cheeks by both the hotness of it and also the closeness between you two.

"But what?"

You sighed deeply and looked up at the eyes that decorated most of your dreams and daydreams. Confessing feelings have always been hard, it never got easy even if you were in a different world but if you didn't do this... Neuvillette would never do it in fear of making you uncomfortable with himself.

"It saddens me to know that the Hydro Dragon suffers so much, enough to make it flood."

Well, he definetly wasn't expecting this answer.

Out of anything that might have left your lips, what you chose to say amazed him. There was someone worried about him? Well, you weren't necessarily worried about him. After all, you didn't know (and there was no way for it to happen) that he was the Hydro Dragon and also, the one who was sad almost %99 of the time.

He often felt guilty about not being honest to you, when you spoke about most of the things that happened to you or what you used to do in your world before coming here. But the mind was a complicated system, and often showed its ugly side at times like this one.

It screamed at him often that if you were to know the truth, see his true form ... He would see the horror and disgust on your face that usually looked at him so lovingly and softly...

And it would forever break him.

"I think, compared to all the dragons I had ever faced with... He has the most gentle heart ever! But the kindest hearts often suffer the most, I just hope he has someone to care for him." You smiled kindly and knowingly at him with a raise of your brows as you stared at his own wide ones, hoping the usually clueless man would get the meaning behind your words.

And surprisingly enough, he did... He just wasn't sure if he should say something more or not, whether he got the meaning behind right or not.

Surely, you didn't...

"He does... I think he does have someone." He gave a small smile to the slightly parting sky as he looked up and sighed in content. He was glad he had you in his life, after such a long time in solidarity and absolutely no one to understand him. Even when he was just a little hatchling, with seemingly no one to care for him, his tiny heart at that time craved for it as he travelled through this world, all alone...

But never ever imagined to hear those words that left your lips next, as if they were the confirmation he always needed.

"So... Why are you still crying then?" He widened his eyes as he lifted those reddened ones to your face, droplets of salty water still running down his cheeks as amethyst-colored eyes looked at you in wonder, mouth left open in shock in a little "O" shape.

The childish wonder in his eyes made you soften at him as you shuffled closer to him, and even if he was a lot taller than you, he seemed like a fragile and ready-to-cry-at-any-moment little boy as he grasped your hands thightly that was holding his face delicately, scared that this was all his imagination which would perish as soon as he woke up and he would be left staring at his ceiling with empty eyes.

Your heart burst with love at seeing his face, body shivering from anxiety and cold together as he trembled under your touch but still seeked your comfort and warmth. He nudged your palm with a small smile, content and relaxed for the first time since he no longer needed to hide from you. He sighed onto your hands, your finger tips lightly touching his strand of white hair, swiping them away from his forehead as he leant down to your height and leaned his forehead on yours. Closing his eyes tiredly, he leant his body weight on yours but it didn't bother you and neither was it hard for you to hold him up by hugging his waist...

And he purred, placing a wide and teary smile over your face.

He finally trusts me...

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry... Even if you look pretty while doing so." You teased him softly ( there was true honesty to your words anyways), with adoration evident on your tone as you almost sung those phrases he sometimes heard children say. Your hands rubbed his back softly, drawing circles as the rain started to lower down and tiny specks of light shone on you both.

You sighed out and buried your face to his neck, cheeks smushing on his shoulder as your arms thightened around him as if to shield him from any more harm.

And, the most joyous thing was... He let you. He squeezed your back with equal force and buried his face to your neck, with his lips tingling painfully just to lay a soft and loving kiss there.

Just as many times you affectionately kissed his forehead with praises spilling from your mouth.

"Just as you promised a lot of times... I'll do everything in my power to make you happy, Neuvillette. That is, if you ha-" your hand was idly patting and going through his locks softly, hand scraping along his scalp as your murmurs hit and was absorbed by his greedy skin as he soaked it all up even in the middle of his shock.

How can you even ask such a question when he was ready to give his life for you?

"Yes..." he was already overwhelmed enough with love, and with each word passing your lips... The reality of the situation you two were in had settled.

Finally... Finally, he had you.

His arms thightened around you, voice shaking as if he was the most afraid he ever had been."Please... Don't leave. I don't know if I can live again without you... now that I had a taste of your love and warmth."

You were shocked to hear such a declaration, so passionate yet calm, just like Neuvillette himself. You slightly parted from him to look at his face, knowing his eyes would never betray his words but he was making it difficult by clinging onto you more.

"Is it-" you started anxiously, fearing that it was because of the connection between the Sovereign and the Creator when a scoff left him, nose scrunched up as if you just said the most weird and offensive thing ever known to a man.

"No, It's because you are Y/N... You are the one I love."

And what else of a reason you would need, when he craddled your face so gently and stroked your chin before slowly diving down and kissing you sweetly under the soft rain as the time stopped for you two, and the nature all around Teyvat blossomed and shone with power?

3. I fainted because he was too cute and handsome, especially when he smiled

"You are so handsome when you smile..."

Now, Neuvillette was used to the way you abruptly threw praises and sweet words at hım throughout the day. Sometimes they were agressive as you squeezed his cheeks together and made hım stare in your eyes while you doted on him.

But this one... This one was new, and he wasn't ready to hear it yet.

At least, fast enough to cover his reactions to save himself from more teasing from you.

"Thank you, my love... Though it couldn't compete with your-" he coughed out as his tail swinged happily behind him, internally cursing himself for deciding to use his hybrid form since you begged him that it would only be the two of you in his office and that you wouldn't let anyone enter without asking first.

And he was a fool in love anyways, who always became weak in the knees whenever you asked for something.

Besides, he couldn't lie: Upholding his human form for so long made him itchy and he was really enjoying as you patted and scratched his tail and scales as his very long tail was wrapped around your waist possessively.

"It's so bright and mesmerizing that it brightened my next eternal life for good...." You were brushing his hair and styling it into a high ponytail just because you thought it would suit him, so focused on your task that you didn't realize how his whole body bibrated because of his content and loud purr...

Which soon made you lean over his left shoulder and stare at his face with a loving and teasing smile.

And there it was, the fierce blush that often coated his handsome face whenever you blurted out your intrusive thoughts...

He blinked several times while looking at you with wide eyes, his heart making flips then stopping and doing it once again which made you snort and lean back on the plush chair you pulled behind his own table...

And soon, very soon, his whole face (and you were sure even his chest) was covered in the reddest red ever known as he stumbled over his own words while slightly trembling.

It was cute... But was it normal for him to tremble?

"Neuvillette? Are you... Did I say something out of-" you slightly raised from the chair while holding the handles and put the brush away, ready to assist him when he suddenly shouted out with an embrassed laugh.

"N-No, not at all! I'm fine, better than I've ever been actually!"

He would never dare to make the same mistake he once did when he reacted to your sweet and definetly distracting words. It was bad enough now that it was becoming harder to control himself...

Maybe, you would be down to the idea of a nightly swimming date?

4. I told him what happened to me and he made the city overflow

"Aaand, that's pretty much it... I already forgave them all but... I think I would never forget it."

Talking about what had happened in all the lives you lived, considering all the religious and cult-like trauma, was something hard to do. Especially since it was still a fresh wound that kept opening again and again at the sight of the Archons in your daily life. They still showed themselves to you from time to time, begging for your forgiveness even though Neuvillette himself almost headbutted with the ex-Geo Archon himself, another fellow dragon who was not as strong as him.

Even though you told them that you put all of that in your past, that you forgave them... They just didn't seem satisfied. They wanted to be closer to you, hang out with you and bask in your warmth as well.

Much like a certain someone, who was deadly serious about not leaving you alone with them for more than a few minutes.

But, could anyone really blame him? You were his treasure, his everything, the one he patiently waited for years without straying from his logic.

His soulmate that he never though he had, or could have. You were kind and loving and generous, and him... awkward about most of the things that concerned human nature, clueless, broken and rough around the edges. He, even now, never actually believed he could make you happy like you deserved while having all these flaws, especially whenever those Archons spoke of all the flaws he had and how he wasn't enough... But as you stared up at him any time he got into one of these moods, held his face and kissed his frown and worries away with little whispers of your love, he knew why he was still alive and had to fight for another day.

He spent lonely years by himself with his heart in agony, listening to it crying for the real home for him... And now that he had it, he learnt all the terrible things they did to You, how they all refused to lend a helping hand to someone in need of it without adding the fact that it was the Creator, and everyone expected him to be fine with it?

Hell no.

He just... couldn't wrap his mind around it. How could they, he thought bitterly as you leaned your head to his shoulder innocently, watching the moon shine outside and reflect the light on both of you. Your hand timidly reached out to his, smaller fingers wrapping around his much bigger ones as if you knew very well the emotional turmoil he was in to comfort him though it was him who was supposed to do that for you.

And it made him even more guilty as he leant his head on your own, as selfish as it seemed to him for seeking such thing from you at your vulnerable state.

How could they almost destroy such a cheerful, happy and kind person? Our Creator?... My love?

You were always the sunshine of wherever you entered, an eye-catching presence in the usually gloomy and calm City of Fontaine. Even when you first came, before seeking refugee and begging Furina to listen to you... You were still kind enough to stop and help a child find her mother, help a lost melusine out ( you later learnt it was Puca, who would grow on you later when she re-approached you with a necklace of sea-shells and offered them to you timidly), and even bring joy to the water in their city so much so that there wasn't a stormy or gloomy day ever. And that was enough for everyone, alongside the golden scars across your arms, that you were their true Creator.

Besides, Neuvillette didn't have to listen to what Furina had to say, the primal dragon in him was already roaring, growling and trashing inside at the other stupid Archons who dared to touch you, to hurt you. How could they, it yelled in his mind often as the loyal dragon it is to the Creator, connected with a deep sense of loyalty and... love. That dragon side of him purred loudly and softly whenever you seeked him amongst a crowd, or simply sitting with him.

The fact that it was him who you felt safe with made both him and the dragon proud and happy, so much so that if he could use his half-hybrid form, which he was already doing it a lot thanks to you, his tail would be flicking back and forth much like a puppy.

He might not be the best with emotions, with them being especially more complicated with humans and all. He might have not understood what pain, heartbreak and even anger meant but there was one thing clear:

Something in his chest broke so wildly, so loudly and stung his heart so harshly at the sight of your tears that the air in his lungs were punched, and made him silently choke on his own tears.

"Never will you ever feel scared, unsafe and unloved, Your Grace... I will make sure of it." He gently craddled your face between his much larger and slightly calloused, naked hands after finally, finally finding his voice back even if it left his lips in a raspy and wavering way with arms squuezing your body thightly. But you didn't mind it, all you could ever need was here anyways...

Except...

"Not that..." he hummed in confusion with a tilt of his head, the blue streaks of his hair tickling your face softly as you giggled and buried yourself deeper to his chest.

"I don't like it when you call me that..."

"Then what would you like me to call you, my love?" You grinned with joy as you bonked your head with his, another affectionate yet cute gesture he learnt you did whenever you were full of excitement and love. Trying to be silent, so that your army of daughters didn't wake up from next doors, you pushed him on the bed you two shared, hand on his sturdy chest as you stared down at his flushed cheeks and flustered eyes at your sudden dominance.

What a sight it was to have the ever stoic Chief Justice, the Hydro Sovereign under your mercy like this, all pretty and yours...

"I like that one better actually. Can you say it again?" You tilted your head cutely with a smile, your sadness from before long forgotten as his eyes softened at you from below you,happy that he was at least able to do that for you. His hand slowly trailed up your waist, to your back and softly craddled your face with his naked hands, hands rubbing your cheeks oh so lovingly as he uttered those sweet names to you slowly, with no rush at all with closed eyes and a loving smile.

"My love..."

"Again..." you breath got caught in your throat as the sudden rush of love and safety overwhelmed you, the man you loved from the beginning uttering and declaring his love to your skin was both too much and not enough.

Not when you unforfunately were deprived of such thing in both worlds.

More, more, I need to hear it more...

"my precious, most beautiful and one and only love..." he slowly pushed himself up on his elbow with the help of his hand on the bed, thightly holding your neck with a promise on his tongue. He was an ancient being with even more ancient thoughts on courting and loving someone. If a dragon loved someone, and devoted themselves to that person once... That was it. No more turning back, no more being lonely, no more suffering. The dragon would make sure their mate was well-fed, safe and happy with them and that no harm would ever come to them ever again, even if the dragon died.

And that dragon side of him was insperable from him after all and therefore, he was eternally yours to have, to be your sworn protector.

Those who treats his family badly would suffer the worst consequence ever...

But for now, he would only kiss your tears away, run his hands across every single scar that told another story and was left unhealed for so long.

I'll fight with everything, move the whole Teyvat upside down and rip through everyone with sharp and protective claws who dared to hurt you and take you away from him.

Not when I had been waiting for you for millenias and just now had you.

"My treasure... You are not alone. You will have me for as long as you want."

He wanted to say everything his heart desired to do but right now, at this vulnerable moment for you as you both laid naked... This was enough.

His arms around you thight was enough.

His deep voice declaring his absolute adoration and devotion to you, bringing you close to tears was enough.

The soft raining outside, making a knowing smile appear on your adorable face smushed to his chest was enough.

Your loving kiss right where his heart was enough.

He and his love was enough.

That is until he learnt in the morning that he accidently made the city overflow deep at night while crying silently to himself for you, thinking you were asleep, but bury himself deep in the sheets while you laughed at hım first thing in the morning and he almost cried tears of frustration at you again.

5. I love him

He gave his true name.

Slowly, very timidly, he brought his hand closer to yours on his face and took a hold of the softness of it with his own glowed hands. This was one of the things he loved to do the most, caressing your hands and rubbing the tips of your finger before kissing every inch of it, showing them the love no one did and could never do.

Not when your heart, skin, body and soul only knew him.

To him, your hands were divine in more than one way. They created life and helped people around, they were what patted the head of the young ones, what helped a little babe who fell on their bum and looked at you with glossy eyes, they were what showed your kindness and love to everyone and everything even after all they did, ever the unworthy ones of such love...

They were what you used to comfort him with your warmth, at long and painful nights as the sky roared with thunders and rain and he was guilt-striken at the thought of people judging him and uttering harsh words to the "Hydro Dragon".

Those were the especially hardest nights for him, marred with the images of you and his "daughters" injured and dying... His mind screaming, torturing with those images and the painful screams, mocking him for not being enough, powerful enough to save those closest to hım as everything drowned him.

Not enough...

You couldn't even save the one you love...

Failure...

Their deaths are on you-

It's okay not to be okay, my love...

But your soft voice, laced with utter devotion and love for him, was always what made it all better as he laid across your chest and hugged you thightly while your hands played with his silky locks. Sometimes, he wondered if you were reading his mind since you always knew when he was down. It was absolutely amazing yet, you were amazing too.

With ot without being the Creator.

Much like the first time he knew his every being now belongt to you, that his heart had fallen for you beyond your title, because you trully loved him for who he was, it fell again and again even more with each passing day.

His heart fell even deeper in love whenever you shyly entered his office to have a hug before dealing with the problems of Teyvat and other realms, saying that his hugs were really relaxing to which he silently teared up, brought him food and ate with hım since he forgot to eat regularly which pissed you off and he would make it up to you by kissing you, whenever you excitedly pointed to a place to have a sudden date with him while strolling in the Fontaine...

And therefore, the last thing he would give to you... would be the sign and show of his utter loyalty and trust.

Himself and his true name, as he proposed to be yours for eternity.

"Will you accept someone like me to be your eternity, Your Grace?"

With happy tears in your eyes as you nodded and jumped on him, which made him fall back on his ass and laugh freely he kissed every part of your body and uttered öne last thank you.

"Thank you for loving me no matter what..."

A soft laugh as you looked up towards the sky which had a soft rain under bright sun, a great show of the feelings Neuvillette was feeling, you kissed him deep once more, much like the first time you kissed.

"Thank you for being you, for letting me love you, my husband... I love you." You nuzzled closer to him with a wide grin as you both laughed while he twirled you happily as the melusines cheered and cried in joy, the waters around you two bursting up towards the sky and creating a feast for eyes with bright colors.

The people cheered in the distance, made new offerings to you and your new husband in happiness and gratitude for being able to witness this day...

But all you needed, all your eyes would see and all your heart would feel was right between your arms... In the form of the Hydro Dragon Sovereign, with pretty amethyst eyes that reflected you and gave you hope when you almost lost it and soft hairs of blue and pearly white that was entangled between your fingers as your lips found his passionately.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Alright I gotta ask. When it comes to Melusine Creator... how does Neuvillette fit in? He basically sees the Melusines as his daughters, so what would he do when he learns of a new Melusine and their abyssal guardian? How would FL react? Would Neuvillette Know? I need answers!!!

teehee excellent you walked right into my trap >:) sit down, sit down, make yourself some tea

Neuvillette is a little confused when Sedene cheerfully tells him about the new sibling she and the other Melusine have welcomed into Merusea- as far as he knows, "new" Melusine aren't really a thing- but simply shrugs it off at first as his children being carefree and whimsical... until he overhears Menthe tiredly mumbling about a giant creature the color of night that sparkles like stars, and the Iudex's blood runs cold. he sets out towards the village the moment his work ends for the day, diving into the water and under the earth before surfacing in familiar caverns, ones he's had memorized for hundreds of years. Cosanzeana greets him cheerfully, with the same flower garden as last time, skipping alongside her father as he ventures deeper into the village, coming across a new seashell house tucked away in the corner

Neuvillette's eyes widen when he settles his gaze on an armored monster, wings all tangled with starlight, gently cradling an oddly patterned Melusine, similar stars in their eyes. the beast growls at him, holding the Melusine closer as they begin to shiver fearfully

it's you, the Creator- he knows it is. but how? perhaps the god of everything has a similar method of rebirth as he does... whatever the reason is, Neuvillette quickly gives you a deep, firm bow, keeping both of his hands in front of him, and the Abyssal creature's hisses slowly fade into soft purrs as you raise a mittened hand and pat it on the head

with your safety intact, you tell Neuvillette everything, the Hydro Sovereign listening with mounting horror. no wonder you wanted to stay hidden in Merusea- the only ones who showed you any kindness were the Melusine and this monster, the one you called Foul Legacy. you plead for him not to tell anyone, about you or Legacy, and he gives you his word as Iudex that he would make sure no harm came to you and your friends- after all, you were beloved by all of his children. as your disciple, it was his duty to protect you whenever necessary... although, with how you won the friendship of an Abyssal creature of all things, Neuvillette is sure you'll be well defended

so the Dragon of Hydro tells no one of his brief trip to the countryside, not saying a single word of what he found, for now

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Dragon Blood

Chapter 3: Your newfound fear of dragons causes you to run away from Dragonstone, but you're naive to think a certain prince with an odd fondness of you would let you go so easily.

Vermithor's claiming left you with endless nightmares. The monster's fury and the screams of the unfortunate dragonseeds haunted your nights and filled your days with dread. The castle, once a place of routine and stability, now felt a platter above hungry predators.

Desperation led you to the head of staff, where you made up a story about distant family in the Reach. "They've asked me to come live with them," you lied, your voice trembling but determined. "Please, I need to leave Dragonstone."

The head of staff was a stern woman with a soft spot for you. She eyed you suspiciously but eventually nodded. "Very well then. I'll arrange for your transfer to a local inn. You may leave as soon as you are ready."

The next day, you gathered all of your belongings and set out on the path leading away from Dragonstone. Each step was heavy with the weight of leaving behind the life you knew and stepping into the unknown.

Suddenly, the sky darkened as a massive shadow passed overhead. You looked up, heart-pounding, to see a dragon descending right onto you. Vermax landed with a powerful thud, sending dust and pebbles flying. You froze, your newfound phobia of dragons paralysing you.

Prince Jace dismounted, his armor gleaming in the sun, a picture of authority and grace.

He approached you with a measured stride, his expression unreadable. "It is high treason for a servant to lie about their supposed family in the Reach."

Fear seized you, and you took a step back. "My prince—"

He cut you off, his eyes blazing with anger. "Do you have any idea how foolish you are? A pretty girl, travelling alone, unarmed and unprotected? Do you have any inkling of what could happen to you on the road? The dangers you could face? What if some slaver found you? What then?"

His words struck you like a blow, and you felt your knees weaken. "I just..."

“You think you can just walk away?” Jacaerys said, his tone low and challenging. “After everything you’ve seen, everything you know? You think that freedom is yours to take?”

“I want none of it! I just want to be safe,” you replied, your voice trembling.

“You’re a Targaryen, y/n. There’s no running from that.”

The weight of his words pressed down on you. “I’m not! Im not... like you, not like the queen,” you whispered. “I’m just a servant. I have no wish to claim a dragon, not anymore—”

You felt your lower lip trembled, your fears cutting off your speech.

Jacaerys softened slightly, though his tone remained stern and dismissive. "You're lucky. It's not every commoner who gets offered an escort from a prince."

You looked up at him in surprise. The closeness of his presence made your breath catch in your throat. His eyes were intense, studying you with a mix of frustration and something else, something darker.

You hesitated, fear and doubt swirling within you. Jacaerys stepped even closer, his presence overwhelming. “Do as I say,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “You will learn how to command a dragon. Claim your birthright at least once.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you could see no way out. He was your prince, your sovereign, and you had to obey him. You nodded reluctantly.

He took you by the hand, leading you to Vermax. The dragon's eyes followed your every move, and you could feel its rumble shaking the ground beneath you.

Jacaerys stepped closer, his presence both intimidating and oddly reassuring. "Say 'Lykiri to command Vermax to obey."

"Lykiri," you repeated nervously, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Louder," Jacaerys insisted. "Dragons respond to strength."

You took a deep breath and tried again, louder, “Lykiri!"

Vermax's eyes flicked to you, and with a low rumble, the dragon shifted, acknowledging your command. Your eyes widened. The realization that the dragon had listened to you sent a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

Jacaerys stepped up on the dragons offered wing with practiced grace, then pulled you by the hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Vermax won't harm you," he assured, seating himself behind you on the saddle, his voice closer now, almost tender. "Feel the dragon's strength."

As you settle on the dragon's back, Jace's presence was solid behind you and reassuring. He guided your hands to grip the saddle, his own hands briefly covering yours.

“Say ‘soves’ to command him to fly.” He spoke in your ear. “Confidently. Command him.”

“Soves!” You spoke loudly.

“And hold on tight.” He instructed, placing his hands on the saddle In front of You.

Syrax took off, the ground falling away beneath you. The sensation of flight, the rush of wind, and the power of the dragon beneath you were overwhelming. Despite your fear, there was an exhilaration, a feeling of freedom you had never known. The world below became a blur, the wind whipping through your hair, your heart pounding with a mix of terror and joy.

The force of the takeoff pressed you back against him. Wind whipped past you. The world below became a blur, and the vast sky opened up around you.

You gasped for breath, the wind making it difficult to breathe. Sensing your struggle, Jace tightened his grip around your waist, his hand moving to your chest, guiding you. “Breathe with me,” he said, his voice steady and close. “In… and out. Slowly.”

You tried to follow his lead, inhaling deeply as he did, his presence grounding you. Gradually, your breath steadied, and you began to adjust to the sensation of flight, the terror giving way to awe.

Jace leaned closer, his voice just above the wind’s roar. “You’re doing well,” he said, his tone softer now, almost… proud.

The adrenaline coursing through you was intoxicating, and as Vermax soared through the skies, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of exhilaration unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

Tears sprang to your eyes, not from fear, but from the overwhelming beauty of it all—the vast expanse of the sky, the powerful dragon beneath you, and the realization that you were flying. Truly flying.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, Jacaerys noticed and pulled you closer. “Are you crying?” he asked, his tone somewhere between teasing and concern.

“I… I’ve never felt anything like this,” you admitted, your voice catching with emotion. “It’s… it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

You looked out over the landscape, your fear gradually giving way to amazement. The world seemed vast and beautiful from this height, and for a moment, all your worries and fears seemed small and distant.

When Vermax finally landed, your heart was still racing, but it was no longer from fear. Jace helped you dismount, his hands lingering on yours. His gloved hand wiped away your tears, your eyes shining with a newfound light.

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Remember your place, y/n" he said, repeating the same words he once spoke to you. "Not everyone is a dragon. Don't let them think they can push you."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. As he mounted Vermax once more, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment had changed something between you, something you couldn’t quite name.

Jacaerys gave you one last look, his expression bittersweet, before Vermax took to the skies again, leaving you standing there, breathless and overwhelmed by the experience.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In the small town where you’d settled, life had taken on a simple turn. The days were long, filled with the clatter of mugs and the hum of conversation as you served folk in the tavern. Despite the work being tiring, there was a certain peace in the predictability of it all. The days were repetitive, but you were away from the politics and dangers of Dragonstone, away from the volatile nature of the court.

Yet, despite this newfound contentment, your thoughts often strayed back to the prince. In quiet moments, when your duties were done and you were alone in your small room above the tavern, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. It started innocently enough, a simple memory on his sharp gaze, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you. But then, your thoughts became something more—something that made your breath hitch and your heart race.

You remembered the way he had stood so close to you, his tall frame towering over you, the heat of his body radiating against your skin. The memory of his voice, low and commanding, echoed in your ears, stirring something deep within you. There was a part of you that couldn’t forget the intensity of his touch, the way his hands guided you, strong and possessive, as if you were something that belonged to him.

Your thoughts became bolder, imagining what it would feel like if he had pulled you closer, if his lips had brushed against your skin. The idea of his power over you sent a thrill through your body, a tantalizing mixture of fear and desire. You found yourself longing for that feeling again—the rush of adrenaline, the helplessness of being under his control, the undeniable pull between you.

But with that heat came a deep sense of shame. You were low born. Nothing more than a commoner, a servant, and he was a prince of the realm. How could you, a mere tavern girl now, dare to feel this way about someone so far above your station? The very idea of it felt wrong, inappropriate, yet you couldn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in, couldn’t stop your body from reacting to the memories of him. The shame gnawed at you, making you feel small and unworthy, but it also made the desire burn hotter, a forbidden fire you didn’t know how to extinguish.

In your free time, you’d found solace in the company of a local pastor, a kind man who offered to teach you to read. You took to the lessons eagerly, and in time, he began to trust you with his collection of books. Most were on the Targaryens and their dragons.

The stories of the dragons captivated you. You learned their names, their temperaments, and the legends about them. And with each passage, your connection to the past, to the blood in your veins, grew stronger, even if you tried to suppress it.

But even more, these stories fed your thoughts of Jace. The more you read about the Targaryens, the more you understood the weight of the name he carried, the expectations, and the burden of his lineage. You wondered if he ever felt trapped by it, as you felt by your own place in society. And as you delved deeper into these histories, your fantasies of him grew more vivid, more intense, until you could almost feel him with you, his presence a ghostly weight that pressed against you in the night.

You couldn’t stop wanting him, couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like if the world were different, if you were different. You kept these feelings to yourself, unsure of what they meant or what you would even do if you were to ever see him again. For now, the tavern was your world, and Jace was a distant memory—one that haunted your nights and invaded your dreams with yearning.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jacaerys Velaryon had little time for distractions. His days were filled with duties—securing alliances for his mother, studying the intricate web of Targaryen bloodlines, and practicing his skills in combat. Every moment was a reminder of the precarious position his family held in the realm, the constant threat of war looming on the horizon. There was no room for error, no room for weakness.

And yet, despite his best efforts, his thoughts would often stray to you.

It was infuriating how easily you crept into his mind. A mere servant, a girl of no consequence, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It started innocently enough, a fleeting memory of your purple wide-eyed expression when he had pulled you from the throne room, saving you from Vermithor. But those memories became something more.

He remembered the way you had trembled under his touch, the way your breath hitched when he had drawn close. It should have pleased him, the power he held over you, but instead, it had sparked something else—a desire that he found both confusing and inappropriate. You were beneath him, a commoner with no claim to anything, yet the memory of your body pressed against his, your soft curves against his hardened armor, lingered in his mind, refusing to be banished.

As he pored over maps and documents, his thoughts would drift to the feel of your skin under his hands, the warmth of your body against his. He wondered what it would be like to explore that warmth further, to strip away the layers of clothing that separated you and discover your body for himself. The thought alone made his blood run hot, and he cursed himself for allowing such distractions.

His days were a blur of meetings and training, his nights spent in restless sleep, plagued by dreams in which you featured prominently. He dreamed of claiming you, of possessing you in a way that no one else could, of making you his despite the vast chasm that separated your stations in life.

It was maddening. You were nothing, a nobody, and yet the thought of you with another man, of someone else touching touching whats his, filled him with a rage. How dare you make him feel this way, weak and conflicted?

The internal struggle only intensified as he learned more about the Targaryen bloodlines. It was that realization that troubled him the most. You were of Targaryen blood, however diluted, and that meant something.

His rational mind insisted that you were still nothing more than a servant, your bloodline a mere footnote in the grand history of his house. But another part of him, a darker, more primal one, demanded he claim you, possess you, and ensure that no one else could.

Even as he trained with the sword, his muscles burning from the exertion, his mind would wander to the way you had looked at him, the mixture of fear and something else in your eyes. It was intoxicating, the way you had both feared and desired him, and it made him want to see that look again, to push you further and see just how far he could go before you broke.

And then there was the shame. The shame of wanting someone so far beneath him, the shame of knowing that he was betraying everything he had been taught by even entertaining these thoughts. You were a bastard, a servant, a commoner, and he was a prince of the realm. It was absurd, scandalous even, to think that there could be anything between you. Yet, despite the shame, despite the knowledge that he was crossing a line, he couldn’t stop himself.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tag list:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction

@rav9n-16

@dracaryxzs

@jacaeryvardaddy

@ericasabe

@alessiaparigim

[suguru-getos]

Genshin Impact characters and how they comfort you (F!Reader):

A/N: It's been a while lovelies :P since yours truly touched Genshin Impact. In all honesty, the game remains to be my comfort game & the characters give me so much joy. Here's me, word-vomiting about them blorbos. ;)

Characters included: Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Ayato

Neuvillette:

The only reason he hasn't cried (yet) is because he is thinking hard on what to do when you're blue. Would probably suggest that you and him go together for a walk! Hey! Don't judge him - a walk fixes everything. Besides, someone who hasn't had a romantic interest in centuries really needs to learn a thing or two. He doesn't mind writing an official application about his absence and walking along the streets of Fontaine with you. He knows the Melusine village brings you a lot of comfort so it's also his go-to place whenever he's feeling down. He tried making you taste different kinds of waters - yep, didn't end well for the Hydro Dragon Sovereign. However, lessons are to be learnt and he learnt them well! Now, he has realized that mostly, your sadness can be satiated with something delectable to soothe your tongue. He started with soup, well? Naturally.. though that didn't end well either. He now has realized what he might like, you might/might not. So, he takes the more aware turn & takes you to places you like, or sometimes doesn't do anything. Happily wraps his arms around you, kisses your forehead and doesn't say anything. Silence and hugs? Best! He's noticed you like that far better.

Ayato:

The Yashiro Commissioner is a cocky fellow, and sometimes a tad too overconfident. He thinks he knows you inside out; that's not something he refers from you though. He thinks it's because no one can ever love you more than Kamisato Ayato. (He is kinda right? Though what's worse is he is mostly correct about the things that you need.) Like - he knows when that period begins, and when the mood swings absolutely obliterate you; he knows some Fontainian chocolate, or Mousse will come to the rescue. Some dangos might also help. The Kamisato Estate staff is trained to not fall pale to your needs. You & him both know that with all the travel opportunities you accompany Ayato in, you do have taste-buds which would be bored with Inazuman food alone. Whenever there is something bothering you personally, Ayato would ask you to vent it out. He firmly believes in annoying you with persistent cooing and crooning of, "Hey Princess, what's got that pretty face so long?" / "Oh come now, don't tell me you would hide things from your husband? I feel judged already. Do I not deserve to know?" You do end up telling him everything - and while Ayato is surprisingly good at giving advices… you always like how he asks first, if you want him to listen, or give his opinions.

Alhaitham:

The Scribe of Sumeru's Akademiya who is also your boyfriend - usually takes the overly analytical route, rationalizing everything. So you often don't tell him about the things that bother you. Since he is so observant and keen however, you can never really slide something that's got you down under the rug either. "You are behaving differently." Alhaitham commented, "Usually when you come home, from outside… you freshen up." He comments at the lack thereof, watching you squirm under his gaze. Of course, whenever you feel down your mind and body send you in a slump. "Oh- yeah, I'll get to that." You quickly comment, though you're cut off by his tender hold on your wrist. "Course you can, something wrong?" Now he knows the 'Female Anatomy', as he likes to call it. Often going out of his way to explain your hormonal cycle, what you should do when you are in your leutal, menstrual, ovulation phases etc. You don't have to say much in certain times as such. Though he acts like nothing's the matter when you do vent about let's say - something at work/Akademiya; there have been instances where he would pay personal visits to some people for pissing his girl off. Duality? Yep.

Wriothesley:

'His' Grace; is extremely kind to everyone, and fair. You being his significant other, get your own perks from time to time. For example: He is always available for tea for his little one. He is always available to listen to you whenever. He considers it fortunate enough that you are willing to live in the Fortress of Meropide with him - he knows it's the harshest decision especially from someone who hasn't done any crime whatsoever. There are days when even someone like Wriothesley (who seldom goes out) makes sure that he visits the world up above with you. Might take you to the Opera, might take you to those fabulous boutiques, anything and everything fashion the second he notices your eyes glim. Nope, none of that is tolerated here. The prisoners have started calling you 'Her Grace'; while you do not prefer it, Wriothesley does not mind, he is fine with you being treated like someone treasured. That would ensure that people around you would tend to you also, when you're down. Damn does this man love body massages, giving them to you and watching your shoulders slump. He needs to be so careful with you though. Can’t be too rough else his little baby would break… <3

[gorgonwrites]

neuvillette headcanons

NSFW below the cut! minors DNI. 18+

author's note: ME AND BESTIE BACK AT IT AGAIN! oh gods, this beautiful dragon man. he deserves everything and then even more. my best friend and i are probably going to do more headcanons for more genshin characters, so expect those from me soon. enjoy! <3

So shy and timid when it comes to showing affection for another person. He’s always learning, but love is a foreign feeling to him. 

We already know it, but the man is the most respectful damn gentleman you’d ever find. Always opens doors for his partner, has his hand on the small of their back to guide them, and he offers his arm when out walking. He speaks gently, and is an excellent listener.

Has a serious shrimp allergy. He doesn’t feel like he’s missing much, though.

He hates being the center of attention, and it can even cause some mild anxiety if he’s caught off guard. Sure, he’s the Iudex and Sovereign of Fontaine, but if he’s not in the courtroom don’t expect him to draw attention to himself. 

Always sneezes in threes–  no more, no less. He has a dedicated handkerchief he carries with him everywhere to cover his mouth, and is always as quiet as possible as to not draw attention to it. If he’s in court and it happens, the entire audience blesses him. He used to ignore it, but he’s grown quite fond of the gesture and takes it as a small human act of kindness. As a result, if he’s ever in earshot when someone else sneezes he’s the first one to give them a blessing. He never skips over an opportunity to sow the seeds of kindness wherever he goes.

He’s learning how to cook. Not horrible at it, but he loves the idea of food inspiring community. He dreams of gathering the people he cares about most and cooking them all a yummy meal one day.

Can sing! And has such a pretty voice. He also has an affinity for most musical instruments he picks up. He’s quite used to the melusines asking him to sing them to sleep. 

Hardly ever gets sick (he does get stress fevers quite easily), but is used to caring for himself if he needs to. The first time he lets his partner care for him when he’s ill, he almost chokes on the vulnerability that starts to creep out of his bones.

Loves his hair being brushed or played with. This is another instance where he begins to feel vulnerable– he tries to avoid the feeling the best he can, but as he grows comfortable with his partner, he allows the feeling to make a permanent home in his chest. 

He loves being held. Even as big as he is, nothing stops him from curling up into his partner's arms to let his work fade away from his whirling thoughts. He has to grow accustomed to the closeness at first, but soon he can’t end a single day without at least having a few quiet moments in his partner’s embrace.

Receiving love, Neuvillette needs physical touch, quality time, and acts of service. He gives words of affirmation and acts of service to show his love. 

nsfw below <3

Has a beautiful blue marking between his belly button and his cocks that depicts his sovereign symbol.  

Neuvi’s ears, neck, and horns are extremely sensitive. Don’t mess with them unless you’re ready to have your brains fucked out. 

Has a praise kink (giving and receiving). Any kind of encouragement goes straight to his dicks. 

On that note- he absolutely has more than one cock. He’s usually so gentle, but if he’s worked into a frenzy he might just try to shove both cocks in at once. 

Has a rut cycle. When he’s not in his rut, he’s an incredibly soft lover. When he IS in his rut, don’t expect to be able to walk anywhere for a few days once his rut is over. 

Has a mild breeding kink. Sometimes he can’t help but think about his partner big and round with his child and it quite literally fries his brain a bit when he thinks too much about it. 

Aftercare once his rut is over is GOD TIER. Hot bubble baths, hair washing, massages, snacks, cuddles. The WORKS. He takes his time soothing his partners after completely wrecking them. 

ASS MAN!!! 

Has a serious overstim kink, both giving and receiving. One orgasm is simply just never enough (or two, or three, or four…). 

Is almost always dominant in his sexual encounters. He can be rough, yes, but he’s never mean. Think pleasure dom or service top. 

Has a body worship kink. He thinks humans are beautiful creatures and always wants to explore every inch of his partners when he can. 

Loves going down on his partner– probably his favorite thing ever after discovering it. 

TANTRIC SEX

Has a tail that occasionally makes an appearance if he gets too worked up. He WILL use it to fuck his partner silly. 

BITING. He loves leaving bites anywhere he can, even if no one else can see them. 

Will only take one life partner, though he may play with other people if allowed. Once he’s formed the bond with his life partner, they won’t ever be replaced. 

Will only allow his life partner to dom him. If he’s ever topped or dommed, it's a deliberate act of giving away his power to someone he trusts completely. These are some of the rarest moments where he willingly lets his worries and vulnerability spill out, and those moments are reserved for one person only. 

in conclusion, he is quite literally the best man ever.

[aeors-blessings]

You look different through the looking glass.

Do I? I guess being attached to the mountains does that to you.

[ash3d-darling]

“ANYWAY THE WIND BLOWS...”—

PLATONIC!VENTI / NEUVILLETTE x CHILD!ANEMO SOVEREIGN READER.

GN READER

cw: Brief religious mentions(church, prayer),Brief drinking mentions, slight Fontaine spoilers(?), possibly OOC in some parts. •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•Let’s begin properly, with the Anemo man himself: Venti.

•How they met was really in hindsight, not a surprise.

•I can see Sov!reader hearing one of his hymns, and trying to find him.

•Meanwhile Venti gets increasingly confused/worried about the new immense anemo energy that is not his.

•Venti seeking them out and standing there awkwardly with sovereign looking at him silently.

•Eventually he asks why they’re in the woods, where their parents are, and why they have anemo but no vision.

Venti clears his throat,“hello there child! If you don’t mind, Why are you in the forest..? And-” he looks at them carefully, searching for something. “Do you happen to have a vision?” He asks, charming voice getting strained near the end.

“a what?” Those two words were the thing that made him realize.

•With the new knowledge of what exactly anemo sovereign!reader is, he decides after zero thinking to “adopt” them!

•This of course means, “teach them to use anemo & play the lyre” but still!

•I can imagine training with Venti going.. well? If you’ve ever seen that part in ATLA where Katara first tries training waterbending to Aang(the scroll episode), it was pretty much that.

•I can see visiting the church, and praying to Barbatos, which may or may not have made Venti a little smug. Once he remembered who he was💀

•l imagine him not drinking while reader is around, for dignities sake.

•Eventually, Venti does worry how Sov! Reader would react about what happened to the previous dragon sovereigns, but he won’t need to worry for that until long ahead.

•In the end, the two of them end up having a father/older brother & child/younger sibling relationship.

•Now, Neuvillette is certainly happy reader has resurrected, but how did they meet?

•The two met when Venti had decided to take them Fontaine for “a little outing”. Where, they inevitably ran into each other.

•I can imagine that Venti knows dragon-sovereign!reader can fend for themselves, and obviously they’re quite strong, +Fontaine has a record of being reasonably safe, so he left them alone for 5 minutes. Little did he know.. •The Melusines simply had wanted to talk with reader, being interested in their “aura” of sorts, when Neuvillette had come to see them.

•unlike Venti, he knew almost immediately.

As always, Neuvillette had come to see the Melusines. It was practically a daily routine for him, always predictable. But, one thing he would never expect would soon appear.

“[__]? I’ve—…” The man paused when his eyes landed on the child, an unmistakable presence. Eyes widened, he stepped forward; “Greetings, young one. Who exactly may you be?” He asked, vying for more information— had the previous sovereign truly been reborn?

When they responded, Neuvillette knew he was correct.

•I imagine he would care for a.d.s!reader just as much as the Melusines, even more so if reader got along well with them.

•I can see Reader visiting Fontaine every few weeks, listening to his times and interests. •On that topic, I think that If A.d.s!reader ever listens to him talk endlessly about water or law, or even asked/took interest In them, he would be overjoyed!

•if reader ever wonders, Neuvillette would gladly show them his power, and perhaps help them with their own. •slightly jealous of Venti, as reader eventually goes back, but ultimately understanding. •Like Venti and anemo dragon-sovereign!reader, I see Neuvillette and readers relationship as: caring father-figure & slightly weird mystery child.

[breedbun]

hi guys to apologise for my lack of activity here is a sfw Neuvillette bot with a heavy plotline! MLM Neuvillette bot btw but yeah have fun or something

https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/ie25ogak

full introduction message below

Centuries before the Prophecy, just as Fontaine came to be, an aristocratic family, The Auclairs, had a young noble prince seated at the heart of the first generation of Auclairs. Even within his youth, this young man was highly sought after by all, and despite having such an upbringing, belonging to a prestigious and high-class family... {user} stayed humble, his kindness never wavering. In the name of Fontaine, {user} had a soft heart, with a golden soul, not found in those people consumed by greed, pride, envy, and other sins as such.

And there, as the Iudex of Fontaine rose to his position as the Chief Justice, Neuvillette was no better than those who vouched for {user}'s affection. When the stars aligned, {user} escaped the comfort of his home, dressed within a black cloak, meeting with Neuvillette near the Fountain Of Lucine. They toss a coin together, every once in a while, praying to the new Hydro Archon, or any god, willing to listen to these two fiery souls, to answer their silent cries to be reunited in the future.

An impending doom, a ticking time bomb ready to explode, was {user}'s very own flesh and blood.. a woman who has nutured him since birth, a woman who took pride in being the mother of {user}. Ah, though many longed for this aged beauty, her heart was not as lovely as her deep brown eyes hid a soul consumed by envy. As a mother, she'd never expect her own son to outdo her in every category. In appearance, in status, in reputation.. even in soul. This, was a betrayal, a conclusion her beloved nor her child knew she had decided upon.

She took it upon herself, to seek the power of an envious god, to ask of her the same thing she asked herself all those nights ago, spent in rage as she laid next to her unknowing husband. Thus, this envious god took pity upon this jealous woman, sending her a curse, in the form of a blessing.

Irritating, how {user} thought he was so sneaky, climbing out of his balcony every night just to meet his secret lover, that she forbade him from seeing! If {user} got to marry the one he loved, then why was she forced to stay with an untruthful husband, who'd she prefer his mistress to take his place in their bed? Such, {user}'s mother took it upon herself to curse her own child, just as Neuvillette held {user} close, the both of them praying to a god that did not bother to listen to their unspoken wishes.

{user}'s body was struck with fear, his mother choking her own son that she brought to life, as Neuvillette was pushed aside. Before Neuvillette could intervene, {user} was taken away by his mother. Neuvillette tried to grab hold of them, but they disappeared into the night, the only light left belonging to the streetlights that poorly illuminated the sidewalk and glistening waters of the Fountain of Lucine.

Since then, more than 500 years had passed—even the prophecy had been uplifted by Furina, who was.. no longer the Hydro Archon. Or more specifically, was never the Hydro Archon in the first place, acting as Focalors to prevent the prophecy. By then, Neuvillette buried {user} in the back of his mind, the one man who knew his full name, his true self, as the Hydro Sovereign.

Now with his powers returned, the throne of the Hydro Archon destroyed, he did not expect to find the one he loved dearly all those years ago, the same, one and only man he'd let into his heart... Laying at the bottom of the newly shining lake of Fontaine, his body nearly hidden by the water's surface reflection of the starry sky above. As Neuvillette dove in, carrying {user} out of the water..

He was still breathing.

＼⁠(⁠◎⁠o⁠◎⁠)⁠／

[silverhalla]

brosca is the only one who will ever see Duncan as a savior, at the end of the war.

you’re a human noble. you’re a proud, happy member of house cousland. when howe betrays your family and you’re there, terrified, in the cellar with the shattered remains of your dying family, it’s you and your mother against the world. your mother: the pain-in-the-ass, hardheaded, spitfire of a woman that sassed you yesterday about manners is beside you, her eyes haggard and haunted. “He’s my husband,” she says, begging, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “He’s your father, and he’s dying, and I love him. Whatever he faces next, he faces it with me.”

She cannot be argued with. She cannot be reasoned with. You can beg and beg and beg your mama to come with you, to survive beside you, but the outcome will always be the same. Duncan will ask you to leave, and she will choose to stay. How can you live with that?

(It’s poetic justice, perhaps, how quickly you come to understand it.)

—-

You are a dwarven princess, beloved of the house aeducan, noble of caste and certain of birthright, when your brother betrays you.

Not the brother you expected to betray you, of course. Your bosom friend, your sovereign sibling. The one who would’ve had your back eternally, if the wide expanse of the throne hadn’t stood in the way. If only love could’ve bridged the chasm. the warden bridges what Trian could not, what Bhelen would not - a last-minute pardon, excusing you from a game you never knew you were playing.

(you had a birthright, certainly, and it was taken from you. all else you cling to is stolen valor now.

checkmate.)

—-

You are the young bride tabris, and your husband stands there bleeding.

Your cousin has already been stolen away, and it hurts, how innocent she was, when so much of you had been stolen away. You would’ve stood in her place a thousand times, and all the evil, lecherous, unspeakably human hands in the world wouldn’t have stopped you, if it meant shielding Shianni. Your husband, bright-eyed and already dying, even if he knows it not, comes to save you. He does not know you, but he saves you from horrors that you have braced against a thousand times before, before he knew you, even if it does not matter. he is noble, in that way.

Duncan is noble too. He offers you a way out - a way out from your family, from your friends, from the only world you have ever - could ever - know. he offers you a chance to die on the battlefield instead of dying in the cellar, before you would ever know this suffering, the suffering laid on you at birth, by mere sin of being elven.

(To die without knowing. Isn’t that worse?)

—-

You are mahariel, free to the wind, to the rain, to the very corruption of nature.

shemlen in the forest was an ill enough omen. to come with grave warnings of burial grounds and curses and demons? you should have fixed your young dalish curses on them, da’len, on what they wrought, and you should’ve turned and fled

you did not, and, by your side, he did not. in another world, you would have lived by his side. in this one, you watch him die again and again.

(it is in your nature, after all, the watching over of dying things.)

—-

You are a mage, human or elven, and it makes little difference.

the maker hates you regardless, or so the templars say. You are good, perhaps, and you turn them in, or else you are kind. It matters little to Andraste, if she’s the one listening, or to anyone else.

Duncan speaks. He offers you refuge, outside of the Circle, far from home. You’ve never seen sunlight unobstructed before, let alone war. You have to choose - Tranquility, or a noble death, somewhere down the road.

(it isn’t a choice, not really. it was made for you before you were even born.)

—-

but you, grey warden, you are something special.

He offers you a worthy death, somewhere in that nebulous future, and you don’t have to worry about how it comes anymore. You know where death will take you - on the doorstep of one darkspawn or another, not here, gasping, in the dirt.

Your sister says this life is worth it.

And it is, isn’t it, for yourself, for your family, for the few lonely friends that you leave behind? for finally, desperately, clawing your w ay out of poverty, even when it costs you everything? for rica to be safe?

(It will be worth it.

It must be worth it.)

[walkswithmyfather]

Isaiah 50:4-5 (NLT). “The Sovereign Lord has given me his words of wisdom, so that I know how to comfort the weary. Morning by morning he wakens me and opens my understanding to his will. The Sovereign Lord has spoken to me, and I have listened. I have not rebelled or turned away.”

John 10:27 (MSG). “My sheep recognize my voice. I know them, and they follow me.”

“How to Listen to God” By In Touch Ministries:

“Spend time regularly in God's Word, and you'll learn to hear His voice.”

“Most of us are better at talking than listening, but communicating with God involves both. The Lord intends for His children to hear His voice.

Scripture is one of the main instruments our Father uses to speak to us. For this reason, studying the Bible is incredibly important. When we regularly spend time in God’s Word, we’ll develop a discerning spirit.

Regardless of how loudly God speaks, we won’t hear unless listening is a priority. We must ask the Lord to teach us to hear and then practice having a quiet attitude. An internal “receiver” tuned to the Father develops only through committed prayer, meditation, and practice at listening. In addition, we need a spirit of submission to obey His commands.

God’s goal for us is a lifestyle of sensitivity so we can hear Him in both noisy and calm situations. Listening is a critical skill for ensuring that our hearts are open to divine guidance in every circumstance. Regularly spending time reading and meditating on Scripture has many blessings, including that we more readily recognize our Father’s voice (John 10:27).”