Chapter Text
Neuvillette did not take their advice.
At least, not for a good fortnight. He deliberated over it long and hard - spent what probably totalled to a full day of pacing back and forth in his office, staring blankly at to-be-done paperwork, or gazing out over the streets of the city from what had become his favourite haunt just outside the Palais Mermonia. So deep was his contemplation that his grief had taken quite the dip in intensity, and for the first time in a while, the skies were beginning to clear a little.
Perhaps this allowed him to convince himself he was making more progress than he was. In fact, he was just as miserable as before. He was just too busy thinking about other things to dwell on it as much.
Before now, Neuvillette's mornings and evenings had always started and ended with Furina. She was the first person he saw once the sun had risen, and the last he bid goodnight to after the day's work; their journeys to and from the Opera Epiclese were almost always taken in tandem. Hers was the presence that defined time - both as his only constant in five hundred years of service, and the comfortable checkpoint of his daily routine.
Things were different now, of course. These weeks without her by his side had felt like one endless day. Just as water sought equilibrium, he found no peace without her to herald the night.
Ah... what a sorry state he had been reduced to. Furina would surely laugh if she knew. How he longed to hear the sound.
Trials had finally resumed at the Opera Epiclese - most cases had been placed on hold while the aftermath of the flood was being cleared up, and then there had been the matter of how the final verdict would be delivered, now that the Oratrice was inactive. After some thought, Neuvillette made the statement that he, as Chief Justice, would simply do the job himself.
Most people accepted the decision immediately. It made sense; after all, the Iudex had only once disagreed with the Oratrice's judgement, and even then it had been clear to all that it'd be impossible for the Fatui Harbinger to be guilty in the missing girls case. He was four years old when it started, for goodness sake...
This, of course, was not what was on Neuvillette's mind. To him, 'the trial' could only mean one thing, and he replayed those few hours over and over when the Palais Mermonia grew quiet.
He declared Furina guilty. The Oratrice, as it always had, agreed with him, only to take the sentence further than he'd ever wanted it go. The trial had gone far further than it ever should have, and he couldn't accept it. So, it was with some relief that he announced he would be the sole judge from now on.
There was some relief to returning to his usual work routine. When he focused on the case at hand, it was easy to quell the voices in the back of his head - as long as he didn't look up.
How much of it had been part of the act, he wondered? How much did Furina truly live for the spectacle of the courtroom - how much of it was true entertainment, and how much of it was endless, desperate hope that this trial would finally be the one to end it all?
The fact that he didn't know frightened him.
The ground beneath had been unsteady since the day he leapt to the sky and declared the nation innocent. He hadn't truly touched solid ground since. The dragon hissed uneasily inside his chest. How could it rest easy, realising that it it may not have ever truly known the treasure it longed to protect?
But who else could recognise true gold, but a dragon's cunning eyes? Neuvillette had been fooled by the facade, but it had never been a matter as simple as that. He had long since been caught beneath the spring's surface, and in its reflection all masks dissolved. Furina kept her pain a closely guarded secret, never faltering, never giving in - but her joy, though fleeting, shone like the millions of stars in her eyes.
In plain words, her soul drew his, just as the moon did the sea. It was something that resounded even louder over the roaring waterfall that had occupied each of their minds for five hundred years.
He had he avoided seeking her out, for fear she might look up at him with stranger's eyes and turn him away, but he'd only been trying to guard his own feeble heart. The possibility that she would turn away - just as he had turned away on the day of her trial - ached like a dagger in his side. The shame bubbled and corroded, until it felt like the dragon was attempting to claw out from his skin itself.
There was nothing for it. On a day that might have been mundane as any other - the sort of days they'd once spend chatting idly on the aquabus for long after they'd reached their stop - he found himself with an ounce of her courage, and left his office in the middle of a document.
He forced himself not to dwell on his destination, knowing he might lose his nerve if he did. He'd long since memorised the address; it wasn't far from the Palais Mermonia. Had he done that on purpose?
...yes, he rather thought he had.
Knock, knock.
He'd thought the wait would be unbearable, but now that he stood here, he felt oddly serene. All his worries seemed to have gone quiet. He'd been quite the fool this whole time if it had been this easy all along.
Then the door opened, and Furina looked up at him.
In an instant, there was a rumble, and rain immediately began falling once more.
Not again, said an exasperated voice in the back of his head. Somewhere down the street, a harried mother hollered for her children to help take the laundry inside.
Furina blinked. Then she laughed - loud and bright, just as he was used to, and his heart clenched - and began ushering him inside. "You're going to drench yourself! Come on, in you get."
He had to stoop to fit through the archway, and stopped short as Furina shut the door behind him. It bewildered him just as much as it angered him that she should be relegated to such a humble abode after all she had done. Stowed away to be forgotten, like a poor souvenir after a holiday. How was this just? Was this truly what Furina wanted?
"Do you want some tea?" He heard her ask. "Wriothesley dropped off some new blends..."
Then she paused and shook her head with a short laugh. "...no, how could I forget? Water for the Hydro Dragon, in a stone receptacle - nothing more, nothing less. Sit down, Monsieur."
Neuvillette found himself stumbling as she trotted off down the narrow hallway. She navigated this space with an ease she'd never had in her old chambers. Of course, he'd come in many a time to find her tangled up on the bed, or sprawled out on a chaise lounge as she bemoaned the lack of interesting things to do, but her rooms had always been so big that she didn't seem to know what to do with the space.
It seemed she was more at home in this cramped apartment than she ever had been there - than she had been with him. He wondered if the rain was getting heavier again.
He attempted to shake the feeling off, then sat down (the sofa creaked worryingly) and breathed a sigh. He was glad to see her lively, truly he was, but surely she was still hiding something from him. Five centuries had left several lifetimes' worth of wounds that he was sure would take several more to heal, and yet she was smiling at him as usual. Perhaps her voice was mellower, her expressions less animated, her speech patterns distinctly lacking in her usual theatric, but...
"Here you are!" Furina announced, practically waltzing in and setting his drink in front of him. "Now... to what do I owe the pleasure, de- ahem, Monsieur?"
Dear Iudex, echoed a quiet voice in the back of his head. He ignored it. "I..."
"If it's about the pasta, Clorinde's already been on my case about it," She said, folding her arms. "And, as I've been telling her, it isn't like I'm not trying other recipes! I've got to eat something while I'm still learning them."
"No, that isn't it." He kept his eyes on his cup, watching as his reflection floundered for something to say. "I wanted to see you."
There was a long, frozen silence - unbroken even by the sound of breathing. Neuvillette dared to look her in the eye, and found disbelief. He felt his stomach sink.
"Well, you've gotten your wish," Furina said at last, but now her bravado was feeble. "How gracious of me, right?"
"Furina," He started, but she had already turned away.
"Stop it." She muttered. "Don't..."
She rose to her feet almost automatically, turning to run. It was a motion he was the familiar with - the same one she used to escape the courtroom, the same one she had used to escape him when he had tried to extract the truth.
He had let her go then, resigned himself to more extreme methods, and it was a decision he would find himself at odds with for what was likely to be the rest of his life. He couldn't let it happen again. He couldn't be the reason she left again.
"I—"
"Stop it, I said!" She snapped, and took another stumbling step towards the door. "Why— why are you doing this to me? I'm done. My role is over. Take your place on the stage and forget about me."
His heart clenched. "I could never forget about you."
"Why not? You have everything you need now." She was trying to sound cold, haughty, but for the first time he truly heard past the act. "Your birthright is yours. Fontaine is safe."
"I have nothing without you."
Furina froze. And then she turned around. Her face was carefully composed, and for a moment he thought of Focalors, stood beneath that ebbing blade.
"I am nothing," Furina said with an ironic lift of her hands. "Nothing and no one. So what exactly do you want from me, Monsieur?"
His breath stuttered. He could think of nothing to say - nothing that could bridge the impasse between them, nothing that could capture the depths of all he felt with simple words.
Slowly, he knelt before her, and bowed his head.
Furina went silent. He dared not look up at her, felt almost unworthy to meet her eyes.
"I know I do not deserve to ask for forgiveness," He murmured. "I regret your trial more than you could imagine. I regret that I failed to see you for so long. I..."
"Neuvillette," She sounded a little panicked. "What are you— get up already— please. I don't..."
"You deserve more than this world can possibly offer you." He could feel his voice failing him, but forced himself to press on. "More than I or Fontaine have ever given you. I couldn't ever hope to quantify all you have done. I wish I could give you my years for all you have sacrificed... I wish I'd known your heart as well as I loved your soul.
"...I want to stay by your side from now on. I want to know you in all your humanity. That is my selfish wish."
She stood there, unmoving, for what felt like eternity. Then there was a clatter - she knelt beside him, threw her arms around his neck, and wept.
He caught her without so much as a pause, found that she fit with him as neatly as a puzzle, and perhaps he had been made to hold her. Furina didn't say a word, only shook, struck him weakly as she wept - and the dragon curled its wings around her, drank her tears from her cheeks, crooned in gentle harmony with each sob. I was so alone. I didn't know when it would end. I thought I would die. I thought I had failed. What do I do now? Who am I now?
You've worked so hard. You've been so brave. You were strong in sorrow. You are beautiful in grief. I am here. I am yours.
O, my Furina... all your tears, I shall repay.
"So..."
"So," Furina echoed. The rain outside had slowly dispersed; the room was quiet now, save for the rustling of her clothes as she shifted in her dragon's arms.
Neuvillette trailed a gentle hand down her back. After a moment, he asked quietly, "Do you still plan to stay here?"
"Probably." She glanced up him, faltering slightly at the subtle disappointment in his eyes. "...I mean, I like it here. It's cosy. And I don't think it's a good idea for me to start wandering around the Palais Mermonia now - think of how it'd look to the press."
"I could sneak you in under my coat," Neuvillette mused. "I'm sure the Melusines would be willing to look the other way."
Furina stared at him for a moment. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. "Oh, honestly! The things you think of— what next, will you put me in a suitcase and drag me in that way?"
He didn't mind her teasing. Rather, he allowed himself to revel in it. Maybe this cramped little apartment wasn't so bad. Though lacking in opulence, it was a place away from the pressure of work, from the judgemental eyes of the crowd - somewhere to forget his duties, and remember his livelihood.
The guilt was still bitter in his mouth, but now he could taste something sweeter. The dragon purred deep in his chest, curling its claws around its treasure, and chirruping happily when she reached up to tangle her hand in a lock of his hair.
He sensed it was still volatile. These weeks would not vanish without a trace. But, for now, he could release himself and rest.
O, tides, I have returned to the moon.