#« chief justice » ⟶ ( neuvillette. )

[o-pandora-o]

I have a type, hear me out....

IS IT A COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT

[hopiufame]

Its fine tho, everything is fine guys

Hes not dead hes sleeping

[ccalxx]

Fontaine's Chief Justice (Iudex) - Neuvillette

[genshin-side-piece]

Sea otters hold hands when they sleep so they don’t drift apart so imagine Neuvillette unconciously doing that with his darling when they sleep together 🥺

This is so sweet, I'm going to melt. 💕💕💕

Personally, Neuvillette lives rent free in my head as a man who spoons. He recharges his social battery by wrapping you up in his embrace and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he drifts off to sleep. He's heavier than he looks, so the added weight isn't exactly comfortable, but you bear it for your own preservation. It's not like you have anywhere else to go. If you try to leave, he'll tighten his hold on you. Squirm too much or kick at him and he'll use those long legs of his to hold you still. If by some miracle you manage to slip away, then you may find yourself the victim of a midnight chase through the dark corridors of Neuvillette's home.

His hearing is uncannily sharp for someone of his age. You can barely brush the floor with your foot before he's awake and aware of what you're trying to do. Neuvillette's vision is good in the dark, better than in the day you think. It's almost unhuman. He moves a little faster as well. His normal attire is cumbersome, the weight from the robes slows him down. In the night, when he has little more than his nightshirt on, he can move with greater ease. His personal best is catching you before you had ever left the bed. He had drug you back one armed, tucking your body under his as he wrapped both of you back up in the blankets. There was always a gentle reprimand that followed the next morning; either in the form of a verbal warning to not wander in the night or being subjected to spending the entire day with him to make up for the insult of trying to leave him before he was ready for you to.

Some nights he would let you get a little farther. The hallway, the top of the stairs, once he had let you get as far as the drawing room. There was no rhyme or reason as to why he varied on the level of distance he allowed. You had originally chalked it up to how tired he was or his mood; but both of those were about as consistent as the weather. In the end you truly didn't know. At this stage you didn't need too. Once Neuvillette decided he was ready to chase, your adventure outside the comfort of his arms was over.

You would run and he would chase and in the end, he always found you. There would be a small struggle. Your brain felt there was something in squirming and screaming as he silently wrapped his long arms around you; but nothing ever came of it. He would chuckle at you or growl at you as he pulled you in closer, his thin lips running down the side of your neck as he held you tight. On the nights where he was more excited or he had reached the end of his patience, he would nip at you. It was never enough to do any real damage, but he enjoyed baring his fangs at you all the same. You always seemed to concede defeat much faster when his teeth brushed against your skin. The sensation was enough to make you go limp in his arms, a silent resignation that he had once again won.

Once you had, he would always laugh. Neuvillette was always delighted in victory. He would scoop you up in his arms, snuggling you even closer as he carried you back to bed; his bed. There he would claim you as his prize, wrapping you up in a tangle of sheets and limbs, denied the right to leave, until he'd had his fill.

[harmonysanreads]

I need a neuvillette dragon courting us but we don't notice till he's all sad cause he thought we was purposely ignoring his courting attempts😩😩🙌🙌🥲

Out of curiosity, I googled 'dragon courting rituals' but unfortunately, I didn't find anything unique or remarkable there. However, it is my theory that "dragon courting" in Neuvillette's case, will contain some traditions that will appear rather strange to humans. Reinforced by Neuvillette's voice line on vishaps:

This gets progressively funnier depending on which ‘era’ of Neuvillette you're in.

My personal favorite is freshly reincarnated Neuvillette, equiped with the emotional intelligence of a pebble and a teaspoon of understanding of the human world. He's confused about his predicament as he is and then the world throws this.. creature he feels the need to keep close in his life as if to screw him up some more. He observes you an unhealthy amount, yes, but, cannot make sense of the majority of what he sees. His memory is fragmented as well so he only recalls some things from his previous life. It takes more time than it should for him to accept that no, dropping freshly hunted animals or the mutilated remains of your enemies at your feet won't succeed in making you less afraid of him. He then opts for crystals, ores, gold—you know, the shiny things but, even those fail to make you rethink him as anything other than a monster. You can deny him for only a limited time as well because, in this stage of his life, he's the least patient. As the desires of his new form fester, he becomes more lenient towards brute methods.

His rough edges smoothen over the course of his time as Iudex. He at least, recognizes that courting in the human society puts consideration on matters such as mutual respect, compatibility, consent etc. and tries to follow decorum. While he isn't the most suave gentleman who'll effortlessly sweep you off your feet yet, he's not borderline savage at least.

Present Neuvillette on the other hand, is much more careful and does thorough research before making a move. If he's 100% okay with the repercussions that'll follow, he doesn't even need to rely on grand gestures to send the message to the public. His presence or, his name alone is sufficient to mark you. All he needs to do is talk to you in a certain way and in a consistent manner for Fontaine to eat it up. It may not be clear to you, but, it's obvious to everyone else and that's enough to eliminate the majority of competition. He'll still do some of the classic courting stuff like gift giving and (in his case) sampling water together. The insistence on being subtle might just become his undoing though, especially if you're equally oblivious.

[roseintherain]

He just wants to attend her concert pls let the man in

[winter-weepingwillow]

Neuvi-otter comic to soothe our soul

Neuvillette is such a sweetheart 🥺🤲 *gently holds*

Reblogs are appreciated!

[villain-byteniwoha]

Childe: if I had a nickel for every time I've been blamed for a foreign nation's water-adjacent calamity all the while under the supervision of an old, powerful dragon entity, I'd have two nickels

Childe: which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

[ariautomati]

Neuvillette wears frilly old nightgowns. no i will not be taking criticism

[scenearcee]

if the characters are not narratively intertwined and inseparable then I do not want them

[sad-sehna]

🥄🐉

[hopiufame]

That image of paimon is kinda versatile, so um here’sa blank one ur welcome:

[ccalxx]

NEUVINATION, WE WON! HE SMILED!!!!

ARCHONS, THAT PURE SMILE!!

Also the same man who have a pure smile:

DJSHFVSADJHFHJSDAF Archons, I'd commit arson for Neuvillette to look at me like that

[genshin-side-piece]

This is inspired by the anon from the otter one - imagine just getting sleepy so you go to sleep on the couch and wake up in Neuveliette's arms

I'm not saying I want to nap on Neuvi's thighs, but I would jump at the chance.

In a post archon Fontaine, Neuvillette often finds that his schedule is a bit more flexible than it was in the days before the disaster. Furina's independence, as well as his own, leaves him with more time to do as he pleases. It instills a joyeux de vivre in him that he had sorrowfully lacked for many years. 

He embraces the unique Fontainian ideology of relaxation and pleasure; in moderation of course. The country still needs to be governed, the paperwork still needs to be handled, but when there is time for recreation, Neuvillette seizes it with both hands and he doesn't let go. That means trying new things, seeing new places, or just spending his afternoons in the comfort of you.

In this new world, Neuvillette has made the discovery that you like to take naps in the afternoons. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled knowing that. Before the disaster, there had been the odd chance that Neuvillette could slip away early. The paperwork hadn't been heavy that day or the case he had been set to try hadn't gone ahead. The reason wasn't especially important. The opportunity to be with you was all he wanted and when it came, he happily availed himself of it. If he was lucky, he would return home to find you in one of your many spots, peacefully napping in either the sun or near the fire if it was cold.

Your relationship with him had been vastly different then. The two of you had yet to reach the accord where you would allow him to be in the same space as you. Because of that, the temptation to be near you, to touch you overrode any common sense he had when it came to allowing you to sleep undisturbed. Instead, Neuvillette would try to squeeze himself in next to you. The effort was clumsy and more often than not, you woke up before he could ever get you in position, but there were a few blissful seconds where he had you as he wanted you. Then, it had been enough. He had those rare moments with you, just as he had the night. Between the two it had been enough to see him through the long days that followed. 

Since the disaster had struck, your relationship with him and the silent agreement you had with each other had changed. While you were resistant to the idea of Neuvillette being so near, so often, you would on occasion be comfortable enough with him that you would fall asleep next to him or wake up curled into his side. His previous clumsiness when it came to moving you in your sleep had been replaced with a schooled technique that allowed you to remain blissfully unaware of him sliding in beside you. If anything he found that you tended to snuggle into him a little after he’d done so, if only to chase his warmth. He treasured those moments with you. In his mind he could pretend that the wall between you didn’t exist. That you were his and he was yours and the world around you existed only for this moment. 

For your part in all of this, you too embrace the new Neuvillette. His curiosity for the world around him resulted in an expansion of your privileges that hadn't existed in the world before the disaster. He liked to take you on long walks through the countryside with him or he would bring home new foods or new fashions for you to try. The change in monotony is a welcomed thing in your world. It added a sense of normalcy that hadn’t existed previously. You could for a time forget that you weren’t his captive and he your captor. You could lay next to him on the sofa, resting your head against his thigh as you listened to him read the latest detective novel or he shared the tamest of gossip with you. The dulcet tone of his voice was such that you could easily drift off into a dreamless sleep, content in the knowledge that when you woke up you would be safe and sound. 

[shadowcatzone]

-furina coming to the worst possible, most wrong conclusion. A Neuvillette/SO short (f!reader)-

Recently, chief justice neuvillette seems to have found a new favorite café. He only ever goes there, when before, he used to visit different places, cafés and bakeries alike. The coffee tastes marvelous, he claims. They serve his favorite cakes. Unfortunately, that meant he would sometimes bring colleagues. Wriothesley claims it's the worst coffee he's ever had, and furina does like the cakes, but that's pretty much it. But the chief justice insists, it's the best café around. Then he smiles at the owner of the café, who served it to him. An average woman, to furina. But he smiles at SO as if she was the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Ridiculous.

So furina calls upon a small gathering. "Wonderful, you all attended." "Aren't we missing the chief justice?" Wriothesley inquires. She sighs, shaking her head. "Oh, but it is ABOUT Neuvillette. So how could i possibly put him on the spot like this?" Ah. The other two exchange a glance - both wriothesley and clorinde can only guess where this was going without the chief justice keeping their archon in check. "Now, there's a very important topic at hand that i must warn you about." "Well, what is it?" Clorinde asks, almost not wanting to know.

"Alas, i have found out that our poor, innocent chief justice, is being drugged and poisoned!" Why. Why did they decide to be here. Wriothesley puts his face in his hand. "...And what made you think that?" "You've noticed it yourselves, haven't you? You yourself tried the coffee that woman makes. It's terrible! It must be poisoned! And she puts drugs into it to make sure that he'll come back! It's no wonder he has that strange, hazy look in his eyes whenever he looks her way," wriothesley wanted to keep her from getting into more trouble, but neuvillette, standing behind furina, presses a finger to his own lips to keep him from making his presence known. Ah, well. "And i'm sure she has some nefarious scheme going on to throw fontaine into utter chaos. Why else would she make sure THE chief justice returns to her pathetic little café? We need to immediately send guards over to watch and follow her every step, to find proof of her schemes and-" "-and then, surely," furina pales as she hears his voice, "you will drag her in front of the court, so i can show you - again - exactly why your false accusations don't hold up?" Well, neuvillette seems mildly annoyed, at the least.

"Please stay out of my private matters - it is far less likely that such a thing will happen to me, than it is for it to happen to you, mademoiselle focalors." Then he walks to exit the room, "i only came here to tell you that i will be late, as i am having dinner with the 'nefarious café owner' - if i find any drugs, i'll be sure to get them to you post-haste."

[boundinparchment]

Undertow

He stopped officiating weddings a long time ago. There was no time for such things as the Chief Justice of Fontaine. But your family insisted. As nobles are wont to do. Only the finest for their eldest daughter. Besides, you two were friends, after all. Neuvillette/Female Reader; in which the Chief Justice can no longer deny his heart on the day of your wedding. AO3 Story Link

A joyous day.

It should have been, at any rate.

At least for you.

As long as you were happy.

Or so Neuvillette told himself. Duty came first, after all. He had a whole nation to keep from setting itself aflame, be it from Focalors’ whims or the people’s fury. In serving everyone, he was, in fact, serving you.

And in turn, you, too, served the people. Few were so generous with their time and their skills, especially those in your social standing. Fewer still went on to study law, as you had; as heir, you needed to understand property laws and taxes and the words that bound your family to its estate and your place in parliament. Neuvillette would never let it be said that you did not know the meaning of long hours and hard work. Amid the vain and the greedy, you were pragmatic, and not without the wit to prove it.

That was what drew him to you. So many in your position used their wit as sharp daggers to stab others during conversation in a clever, charming way. You flipped the conversation back on perpetrators so often that he wondered why you never pursued certification exams.

“For one, it benefits my station far too much,” you said. “My ambitions are to be able to make life sustainable for all I’m meant to govern. Naive, perhaps. But I think those in my rank need to earn their keep, prove they’re worthy of their legacy. We owe it to the people of Fontaine.”

You were certainly not without a vision, even if you were Unblessed. It was better that way. You didn’t deserve the eyes of the island above on you anymore than they already were.

Neuvillete adjusted his cuffs as he glanced down at the book in his hands. A book you’d given him, annotated with your favorite passages and thoughts. He’d stayed up far too late trying to conceptualize anything other than his legal obligations for the ceremony.

The courtroom buzzed with anticipation. Focalors had rolled her eyes when she caught him getting ready but even she had made herself scarce for once after mumbling to just get it over with. Funny. And here he thought she might be present to laugh in his face and call him a fool.

A fool who took an hour to painstakingly braid his hair in a fashion that mimicked an Oceanid’s tail, as you had once shown him.

He stopped officiating weddings a long time ago. There was no time for such things as the Chief Justice of Fontaine.

But your family insisted. As nobles are wont to do.

Only the finest for their eldest daughter.

Besides, you two were friends, after all.

You would have settled for far less; or rather, you would have been happier with his presence in another capacity. He knew as much. His estate for the ceremony and party. A speech at dinner. A dance. Your smile had been so forced throughout the entire exchange about an officiant that Neuvillette was certain you might snap right then and there.

And yet you remained rooted. Dedicated.

If only the finest would do, why did they even consider the dolt standing before him to be eligible?

Hardly remarkable in accomplishments. The family coasted on interest earned through their holdings but were not without the occasional cousin who ended up with a debt record as long as one’s forearm. Neuvillette couldn’t even justify an excuse for a pedigree; bloodlines couldn’t, shouldn’t, be about trying to maintain whatever purity they claimed to hold.

No one could make that judgment.

Celestia might try, at any rate.

And the Chief Justice could hardly see your future husband comforting you should such a thing happen, let alone caring for the people. Neuvillette could only stare when the nobleman’s eyes caught his; your fiance looked away first and Neuvillette smiled briefly to himself. No. There would be no comfort in this relationship, no challenge, no ambition.

This man would snuff your flames with his own self-importance.

Neuvillette should have offered his hand instead when you’d told him. You seemed so resolute, so determined, to carry out your duty. And he was so patient that he might as well be a coward. Time would wait for him, not you. Instead, he’d pulled every string he could to find every shred of information for you, for your parents, approved the match with as much grace as a ruling.

Mulled over every file with a glass of brandy, trying to convince himself things would be fine.

Wouldn’t they?

Nearby, a musician began the song you had chosen to walk in with and the gallery rose in unison, like the sea, to watch.

The only thing you’d had control over was the dress, you’d admitted one night after dinner. Repurposed, you’d mentioned; all lace and fashionable lines, practical but elegant in its shape. He couldn’t pull his eyes away and he tried to remember to breathe as you made your way down the aisle. In all his years, he had seen many things, including the stunning shimmers of the previous Hydro Archon, but all of them paled to you.

Likewise, it seemed you couldn’t look anywhere else but straight ahead, Neuvillette realized: most looked towards their future spouse but your gaze was fixed on Neuvillette himself. His grip on the book tightened and he was thankful for the swell of the music to hide the squeak of leather.

You weren’t making the stabbing knife in his chest any easier.

The words came quicker than he liked as he began the usual spiel. Welcoming guests, reciting the names of the parties involved, and starting off with a brief speech on the strength of a union. He could read the passage from the book backwards if you asked him.

As a judge, he was meant to be the impartial interpreter of the law. There was no place for bias, for emotion.

His eyes would give him away to any discerning onlookers. Neuvillette was no stranger to rumors and gossip columns and no doubt someone could already see the questions he couldn’t keep from surfacing. It would be obvious, he realized. He kept looking at you and not the crowd, not the man with eager eyes who held your hand the same way one held a horse bridle: too tight.

Neuvillette cleared his throat and pushed away the anguish. It had no place here.

As the Chief Justice asked you to repeat after him, to recite the vows all Fontaine citizens gave on their wedding day, something inside him cracked. Couldn’t you see this would lead to nothing but misery? Weren’t you worthy of more? If you must marry for duty, then at least commit yourself to someone equally committed…

Your lips, painted to perfection (unnecessarily so, for you were already beautiful without such coloring), opened but silence followed. Neuvillette swallowed. Your eyes left his long enough to stare at the man holding your hand before you thrust your bouquet at him, gathered your skirt, and dashed back up the aisle.

Behind you, the courtroom ignited with all of the shock and drama as a high profile murder case as you threw the doors open and dashed into the lobby and eventually out of sight.

The only trace you’d been there at all was your veil as it floated to the floor silently, forgotten.

A joyous day.

It should have been, at any rate.

And yet you shouldn’t shake the knot in your stomach and the claw clenching around your heart. Sleep eluded you for the better part of the night and your maids tutted, pressing cold spoons to your eyes before you were allowed to eat. Food tasted no better than dirt over the last few months and all anyone saw was how careful you were watching your figure.

How you wished things were different. The ring on your finger felt heavy, clunky; a ball and chain around your ankle would have been easier to manage.

It hadn’t been so burdensome at first, of course. Things took time. Perhaps, eventually, you might enjoy your betrothed’s company for longer than a few hours. The potential was there.

But was it enough?

Your maids fixed your makeup, did your hair, swatted your hand away when you reached for just one sip of water.

They all gushed about your fiance, how handsome and charming he was, how well conversation seemed to flow. Every single one of them forgot that the conversations were nothing more than surface level discussions that made you want to gouge your eyes out with a spoon.

You’d almost begged Neuvillette to forge something, anything, that would make this arrangement null and void. Every meeting since the engagement had been heavily supervised under the guise of protecting the Chief Justice’s reputation and your honor, whatever that implied.

Expectation had been there for years, lingered like a ghost. Not from you but from everyone else who cast their eyes on your station. One rarely, if ever, captured the Chief Justice’s attention, after all. Your family had hoped, as others had, but you were content to simply converse over dinner, at parties, exchange books and philosophies and see the man’s smile reach his silvery eyes. He spoke of opera and art in a way so few of your contemporaries could. You tried to control the flutter of your heart when he locked eyes with you across the courthouse foyer after parliament adjourned and you swore you saw his eyes glow.

He was engaging, enthralling, and it was easy to see why the nation considered him such a celebrity.

But your friendship was more than the attention, than the allure of the Chief Justice and all that he encompassed. Some might not call his rulings fair but he saw all of the trappings that Fontaine itself was guilty of pressing onto all of its inhabitants. When you came up with ideas for proposals, it was him you went to for proper language and legal references, always attempting to stay within his schedule, of course. More often than not, he would continue to prompt you to think the proposal through, consider scale and the impact and the precedent.

Never once did he give you an opinion, naturally. Just a different perspective.

“You can be dazed tomorrow,” your mother said as she snapped her fingers in your face. “Your flowers just arrived and the photographer is insisting on family shots here, at the house.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you were dressed by deft hands. It had been something of a game with your maid to pass time when you felt like trying your dress on; little had you known how the practice would backfire.

Something tugged at your gut and you fought the urge to vomit at the thought of the hands (the wrong hands) that would undo the buttons.

No, you made your choice, you reminded yourself. The guilt would fade. The love would fade.

You were closer to thirty than you cared to admit. What your family took for a phase they realized would be a dangerous precedent for your siblings.

Everything you did was for the betterment of the people, you would argue.

What good was the betterment of the people when you were neglecting your duty to your family, was often the retort thrown back with as much acid as your grandmother’s strong tea.

Family.

Duty.

Honor.

All of it was bullshit if the common people were unhappy and left to fend off wolves from above and below.

You’d never subscribed to these notions and they were content to let it be until it was inconvenient. Rather than let you advise on financial planning, to grow an endowment that could take care of the yearly costs of the estate, you were to be cattle in exchange for financial and political support.

Or you would be cast aside, disowned and dishonored, your position taken from you as if it were a rug underfoot.

And so, you accepted all of it with a smile.

You endured.

Just as you endured the flash of the kamera, the fussing over your flowers and your veil during the carriage ride to the courthouse.

The press were eager, as they always were, for gossip and fashion and for a glimpse of the Chief Justice presiding over the ceremony. They weren’t here for you, not truly. Why, of all things, had your parents insisted he be the officiant?

Wasn’t it enough that you were giving up parts of your life, parts of your soul, for a person who would never appreciate them?

Your feet already ached from your heels. A wave of dizziness slapped you across the face as you entered the lobby and you pushed through it. Music began, the doors opened, and your body moved of its own accord, just as you had practiced the night before.

Neuvillette had declined the rehearsal dinner. The one time you were glad not to see him. If you had, you wouldn’t be here now, you were certain.

You gave a cursory glance to your fiance but your attention whipped back to Neuvillette almost instantly. He’d done his best but you could see the faded dark circles under his silver eyes. How late had he stayed up, you wondered. And how long had that braid taken him?

He’d let you style it once, and only once, in the privacy of his library. Waterfalls of silken fabric couldn’t compare to the beautiful blue and white locks between your fingers. He’d been attentive when you showed him the technique, pausing his case review to do so, but…

An ache from your feet ran up to your heart and sat, heavy with longing; it hurt to breathe.

The music swelled to a close and your father kissed your cheek before he passed you along to your fiance. He smiled and you tried not to be disgusted at the sweaty hand that held yours. You held your flowers in your other hand tighter, glad that the florist had missed a thorn in trimming your flowers.

Before you could blink, Neuvillette was already speaking.

And although he was addressing everyone as he read the passage you read aloud to him on a particularly gloomy evening, his gaze never left yours. The man witnessed and knew of the cruelest things the nation allowed, worked under Honorable Focalors Herself, and yet the expression on his face (such as it was, for he was known for his unreadable countenance) was as if…

It was gone in all but a moment as he cleared his throat and prompted you to recite your vows.

It was the subtle raise of Neuvillette’s eyebrows, the way his eyes widened just enough for emphasis that did you in.

Doubt. Anguish.

Was this what you wanted?

You turned your head, every intention to get the words across your tongue and past your lips in mind, when your voice simply wouldn’t comply. All you could see was a life shackled, compromise after compromise and always made against your favor. Concessions that eventually wore down to wondering why you ever bothered.

Did you want to throttle yourself, your spirit, your drive, for potential that wasn’t even there? When the man you loved would be forever kept out of reach?

If not this, then what did you want?

The answer was literally staring you in the face.

You shoved your flowers into your betrothed’s hands and pulled away, not caring if your dress carried sweat stains as you gathered the skirts and ran as fast as your legs could carry you out the door. Commotion behind you roared to life as you haphazardly made your way through the lobby, down to the entrance, and then dashed to the side garden to avoid the headline-hungry press.

There were few options to hide, all of them easy enough to locate. Your family would drag you back if they found you. Assuming they weren’t bickering and that the wedding was even still on from your fiance’s point of view.

A single drop of rain plopped on your head, sudden and cold. Followed by another. And then there was no sun left in the sky as rain came down in sheets, heavy and frigid. Thunder rumbled through your entire being. You couldn’t stay here. Over the roar of the rain, you could hear your name. You wouldn’t heed.

You were tired of coming when called, of giving your loyalty and love to those who sought to keep you from your happiness. No better than a hunting dog.

Soaked, your hair and dress now destined for the Abyss, you slid off your heels and made your way towards the one place you might be able to wait out the rain in peace.

Over the chatter of the crowd, the rumble of thunder was unmistakable.

Of course it would rain. It wasn’t like he’d done a terrific job of hiding his own bias.

The speed at which you’d run back up the aisle was a feat, given the shoes you wore. No doubt those wouldn’t do you any good in this weather. You were probably cold, overwhelmed…

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Neuvillette’s hand shot out. He grabbed the nobleman’s arm before he could move, already poised to go after you.

“Leave her be. These things happen. It is best for a neutral party to resolve these matters. Wedding planners, family, or friends are usually equipped for these situations,” the Chief Justice said matter of factly.

Fight back, you absolute–

Your betrothed’s arm relaxed in Neuvillette’s grip and it took everything in the Chief Justice not to summon his power and drown him there and then. If there was one person deserving of being reduced to their primal element…

Neuvillette’s voice cut above the crowd as he called for order, requesting that guests remain where they were and that, no doubt, everything would resume shortly. Your parents were already doing a poor attempt at damage control with your supposed-in-laws. Your siblings were casting looks at the door, half-debating if they should go after you; they weren’t like you, not as headstrong, not as independent, and one look from your matriarchal grandmother sent them further into their seats.

He intervened, diffusing arguments with ease, all the while wondering if you were okay. Your parents wanted to use city resources, send out police. For once, your fiance chimed in that such a thing might scare you and you needed help, not to be dragged back kicking and screaming.

“You should go, sir,” the young nobleman said quietly as the bickering picked up again. “You said it yourself: family or friends, and her family doesn’t seem keen to fight for her.”

The man’s smile was shaky but the Chief Justice appreciated the sentiment. At least he had a brain in there somewhere.

“Be sure to keep them from saying too much to the press. Should any ask, Her Honor is also behaving…in her usual fashion.”

Neuvillette was certain his absence wouldn’t go unnoticed and the fact that the press were still clamoring at the front stairs despite the downpour wouldn’t help matters. He paid them no mind as rain pelted him, drenching his robes and suit jacket underneath. The rain did nothing to affect his vision nor his drive to find you; he was unbothered by the chill but you…you always did love curling up right next to a fire and being bundled in winter.

There was one place you might go, he pondered, that few knew about and fewer had access to. Short of you running through the city in your dress (which would not be like you), you had little options to avoid the press but to stay near the courthouse.

He found you as he expected to, under a pavilion tucked away into a quiet garden on the property, wringing out your skirts and pacing, feet bare against the wet stone. You were never still when your mind was lightyears ahead of you, be it from following trains of thought or when you were attempting to force a filibuster. Your thoughts were likely half-way to Inazuma by now and just as tumultuous as the storms he heard so much about.

His breath caught when you jumped as you caught sight of him, eyes wide and anguish carved into your face. Neuvillette stepped under the cover of the pavilion, his robes and braid dripping unceremoniously and you immediately reached to wring his hair out gently, without so much as a second thought.

The Chief Justice took off his gloves as he let you finish before he took your hands in his. He could feel the bump on your finger where you held a pen, the tender spot where your flowers pricked you.

“I can’t do it, Neu,” you choked out, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”

“You don’t have to if it’s going to make you unhappy, if you cannot see a future with the person standing at the altar.”

He worked in rulings, evidence, facts; managing Focalors emotional outbursts was a terrible part of his job description but they never teetered into this territory. He was used to fleeting whims and de-escalation.

This? This was a decision that would change the course of your life. Not immediately, of course. But the future was a terrifying, uncertain thing, and you had expectations to contend with.

Expectations that did not involve him.

The pall of fear lifted from your face slowly, the same way morning dew disappeared from the grass. Something else blossomed in its place, like a sweet flower pushing through the cracks in the cobblestone streets, resilient and resolute.

“The thing is, I can. Just not with the man I was about to marry.”

Shooting him would have been less painful. Such an admission should have, as with all things today, been enough to make a heart soar, even manage to turn bitter water into sweet ambrosia. Your lips parted again before he could speak.

“And I understand you feel differently; you’ve never given me reason to believe otherwise and I am not asking for more than what you have to give. I would never do that to you. If I marry the man in there,” you nodded your head in the direction of the courthouse, “it will always be a lie. Maybe I’ll grow to tolerate him but I will never love him. Not like I love you. As I do now, I will spend the rest of my life looking into his eyes, wishing he was you.”

Neuvillette’s hands dropped yours to cup your face of their own accord. Before he could process anything else, he’d tilted your head up and pressed his lips to yours as if he was a man deprived of air. You were warm, despite the weather, and he could make out the familiar scent of your perfume amid the fresh flowers in your hair. He felt you relax, curve yourself into him, hands finding purchase on the soaked lapels of his robes.

He broke away, his face hot as he admired your swollen lips. Mixed in with your slight daze was that inquisitive expression he would never tire of, one you often gave to silently encourage him to continue speaking.

“Then no more wishing, mon amour,” he whispered, brushing away the stray tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. “Marry me.”

“Don’t just—”

“I should not have let it get as far as it has. What good is duty if your heart is elsewhere?”

“And where will we go, my Chief Justice? The people of Fontaine and our Archon might enjoy this scandal a little too much…it would be quite a spectacle.”

“Qiaoying Village is nice this time of year. I have an acquaintance in Liyue I can persuade to be a witness. Beyond that…we’ll let the current decide.”

His words shook something in you as you reached up and tugged at his cravat to pull him into another kiss. Longer than the last, smooth and steady like a morning tide, passion dancing like an undertow.