#And then Sigewinne subjects you to one of her healthy meals

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Fire and Dreams in Meropide

Summary: You have a nightmare. Wriothesley is there to pick up the pieces.

Word Count: 1174

CW/TW: fairly graphic descriptions of natural disasters, mentioned (not real) character deaths, hurt/comfort, Wriothesley calls reader duchess, nightmares, panic attacks

Wriothesley x fem!reader

A/N: For the italicized part the theme music is Erlkönig by Franz Schubert and the rest is fragile fantasy/Once-colored Memories from the Vortex of Legends Genshin Soundtrack

You run. Fire falls from a sky clogged with roiling black clouds, the miasma belching from a flickering, glowing fissure.

All around you, your neighbors and coworkers run with you, screaming, shouting.

Of course, next to you, is a beacon of calm in the chaos.

Wriothesley holds your hand, pulling you along. Both of your faces are covered, wet rags struggling to protect the delicate respiratory organs from the ash that falls like snowflakes to the burning ground. Despite that, you can see your lover’s eyes, intense and alert, but unpanicked.

The two of you hurry through the streets, ignoring the flame-licked houses you pass.

Ignoring the houses, that is until, a child’s cries come from one of the burning buildings.

Wriothesley stops in his tracks, scanning your surroundings for the voice.

When he sees the child, he tenses, glancing between you and the trapped child.

“Y--”

A tear slips down your face unbidden. “Do as you must. Just… try to come back to me.”

  Wriothesley pulls his rag down around his neck and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. No matter how you try to convince yourself otherwise, it feels like goodbye. “I’ll do my best. Wait for me at the evacuation point?”

You nod, cupping his face. “Be careful.”

You turn and continue running, feeling the chill of a cryo vision flaring to life. Several yards from your parting point you can’t help but stop and turn, only to see the love of your life disappearing into structure just moments before it collapses into burning rubble.

“Wrio. Wrio. Wriothesley!”

The sound of his name whimpered mere inches from his ear, startles Wriothesley out of a sound sleep. Without thinking he reaches for his vision and gloves, only to realize that you’re still deep asleep, eyes twitching violently behind your eyelids while tears seep from behind your eyelashes.

Wriothesley reaches for your shoulder, intending to shake you gently awake, when you scream his name and bolt upright. 

“Y/n, y/n. Y/n, please look at me.”

The warden shifts, trying to place himself in your line of sight. You curl in on yourself. “No. No. Wrio is gone. Wrio is gone. Can’t be real.”

Wriothesley groans, running a rough hand through his hair while the other sets his vision just behind him. He lets cryo energy coat his hand--not enough to be freezing, but enough to shock you into the moment--and touches your shaking fingers.

The moment Wriothesley lays his fingers on yours, his touch gentle but too cold to be anything but real, your eyes snap to his face. Your breath snags in your throat as the events of your dream speedrun through your mind, culminating in the last image of your lover’s disappearing frame. You gasp, again and again, trying but unable to force air into your lungs. 

Despite the warm bronzes of your shared room in Meropide and the metallic humidity that never seems to abate, the sensation is identical to the ash that clogged your dream-self’s throat.

“Wrio…” You rasp, pleading at him with your eyes.

“Y/n, duchess. Hold on.”

Wriothesley slides out of bed, tosses on his vision and coat, before lifting you in his arms, carrying you down the stairs to his office and setting you on a well-worn couch brought from the overworld. 

You continue to hyperventilate.

He hurries around the room, setting on the music you listened to prior to bed and starting a pot of tea. When everything is settled, he kneels in front of you.

“Y/n. Look at me.” Wriothelsey’s voice, while gentle, takes on a tone of command that you can’t ignore.

Your eyes meet his gray blue ones. Gone is the wary intensity from the dream, replaced by soft, wavering concern.

“Breathe, duchess. In, one two three. Hold it. Out, one, two, three.”

He runs you through the exercise recommended by Sigewinne many years before when his own nightmares ran him ragged, using the cool touch of his vision to center you in the moment.

Ever so slowly your breathing calms.

“Are you with me, Y/n?”

“Wrio….”

“Can you tell me what you hear, love?”

You think for a minute. “Music. We… listened to this last night.”

“Good girl. What do you feel?”

“Your hands are cold.”

“Good.”

Just then the pot starts to whistle. 

“Can I finish making tea?”

You are slow to nod, but when you do, Wrio leaves your side to finish the task. He brings back a mug of tea--fancy cups are useless in a situation like this, if you ask him--making sure your hands are steady before handing it to you and pouring one of his own.

As you take slow, careful sips, tears slip down your face and you start sobbing.

Wrio sets both cups to the side. “Can I hold you? Or do you need space.”

“Please, please. I thought you died. You did die. You left me, you left me.”

The Duke pulls you into a tight embrace, hating every shudder and desperately wishing he thought he were warm enough to give you the comfort you deserve.  “I’m here, duchess. I wouldn’t leave you.”

“But you would. If it were a child, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

“Can you start at the beginning? I can’t tell you the truth if I don’t know what I left you for.”

You stumble through the details of the dream, often pausing so Wrio can soothe re-surging panic. When you’re done, he lays his head on yours. “I would think, my lovely duchess, that I would have a plan for such an eventuality. And that you would--either bravely or foolishly--follow me in.”

“I--maybe. I don’t know. It hurt so bad. Watching the building---”

“Sshhh.”

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Wriothesley shushes you and shifts your head so your ear lays over his heart.

“Do you hear that, duchess? My heart beats and so does yours. I know it’s scary, but it was just a nightmare.”

“I know. I was still so scared.”

“And that’s ok. I’d probably be terrified if you did the same thing.”

You look up. “You would?”

“You’re my duchess, duchess. You think I’d just see you off like that?”

“You’d follow me.” The words are a statement, not a question.

“In a heartbeat.”

The two of you stay there for several long moments, the sound of his heartbeat easing the last of your tension.

It isn’t long before you yawn.

“Tired again, duchess?”

“No one sleeps well running from volcanoes,” you grumble, shifting so that you’re comfortably curled in the Duke’s lap.

“I wouldn’t think so. Do you want to go to bed?”

“Mmmm. No. Not right now.”

“If you say so.”

Despite your words, it’s not long before both of you are carried off to dreamland.

And if Sigewinne walks in and sees you curled up together and decides that the Duke and Duchess need a day off, then that’s her prerogative. You can always argue when you wake up. Until then, she wishes you sweet dreams and shuts the door tight.