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Neuvillette stood before the modest apartment nestled in Fontaine’s heart, its whitewashed walls kissed by climbing ivy. The air carried the faint scent of rain, though the sky remained clear, a rarity in his presence these days. His gloved hand hesitated at the door, the weight of his role as Iudex momentarily forgotten. Furina was inside—his former Archon, his friend, his… something more, though he dared not name it. Months had passed since she stepped down from her divine mantle, and the silence from her had grown deafening.
He knocked, the sound soft but deliberate. No answer.
His brow furrowed, a flicker of worry tightening his chest. Furina had always been vibrant, a whirlwind of theatrics and charm, but the reports from her neighbors, kindly souls who kept an eye on her, spoke of a quieter woman, one who rarely left her home. Clorinde reported the same when he’d requested he check on her, so he knew it was true. His heart, still unaccustomed to such endless concern, ached at the thought.
“Furina?” he called, his voice low, resonant, like the tide pulling at the shore. Still, no response. He turned the knob, finding it unlocked, and stepped inside.
The apartment was tidy but dim, blue curtains half-drawn against the morning light, the lingering scent of dusty fabric and stale vanilla. A teacup sat abandoned on the table, its contents long cold. Neuvillette’s sharp eyes caught the faint tremble of a shadow in the corner of the room.
There she was, curled in an armchair, her knees drawn to her chest. Furina’s mismatched eyes, once sparkling and brighter than the sea, stared blankly at the floor. Her hands gripped the armrests, knuckles pale, as if anchoring herself against an unseen storm.
“Furina,” he said softly again, closing the door behind him. She flinched at his voice, a subtle jerk of her shoulders, but didn’t look up. Neuvillette approached with measured steps, his cane tapping lightly against the wooden floor. He knelt before her, his tall frame folding with a grace that belied his draconic nature. “May I stay?”
Her gaze flicked to him, fleeting, before dropping again. “Neuvillette,” she whispered, her voice fragile, like porcelain on the verge of cracking. “I… I didn’t expect you.”
“I came to see how you fare.” He kept his tone gentle, though the sight of her—so small, so still—kicked up an instinct inside, a protective one he’d rarely felt. But lately he felt it all the time, crushing in it’s insistence. “May I sit with you?”
She nodded, barely perceptible. He settled into the chair beside her, his presence steady, grounding. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Neuvillette had always found solace in quiet moments, and Furina, for all her flamboyance, had once confessed she did too, in rare moments of vulnerability.
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, her voice trembling. “I haven’t… I haven’t been myself.”
“There is no need for apologies,” he replied, his tone firm yet kind. “You owe no one your performance now.”
Her lips twitched, a ghost of her old smile, but it faded quickly. “It’s not that simple,” she murmured. “I close my eyes, and I’m back there—on that throne, lying to everyone, to myself. Five hundred years, Neuvillette. Five hundred years of pretending, and now… now I don’t know how to stop.”
He listened, his heart tightening. The weight of her centuries as Hydro Archon, the burden of upholding a facade to protect Fontaine, had left scars no one could see. He had known of her struggles, but seeing her like this, so paralyzed, not by physical ailment but by the ghosts of the past he couldn’t change, cut deeper than he expected.
“Furina,” he said again, leaning forward slightly, “you are no longer bound by that role. You are free.”
“Free?” Her laugh was brittle, her eyes glistening. “I don’t know what that means anymore. I sit here, and my body… it won’t move. My mind screams at me to get up, to dance, to live, but I’m… stuck. Like I’m still on that stage, waiting for the curtain to fall.”
Neuvillette’s gloved hand hovered, uncertain, before resting lightly on hers. Her fingers were cold, trembling beneath his touch. “You are not alone in this,” he said. “And you are not on that stage any longer. You are here, with me.”
Her breath hitched, and she finally met his gaze. Her eyes, one a summer sea, the other the darkest depths of it, shimmered with unshed tears. “Why are you here, Neuvillette? You have Fontaine to oversee. You don’t need to… to pity me.”
“I am here,” he said, his voice unwavering, “because I care for you.”
The words hung between them, simple yet heavy. Furina’s lips parted, but no sound came. She looked away, her shoulders curling inward. Neuvillette’s heart ached at her silence, but he didn’t press. Instead, he rose, moving to the small kitchen area. “Have you eaten today?”
She shook her head, barely noticeable if not for her messy curls swaying. He nodded with a hum, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and began preparing tea. The clink of porcelain and the soft hiss of the kettle filled the quiet, a small anchor in the storm of her thoughts. He returned with a steaming cup of chamomile, its floral scent soothing, and placed it in her hands, wrapping her fingers around the warmth.
“Drink,” he said gently. “It will help.”
She obeyed, her movements slow, mechanical. The tea seemed to settle her, if only slightly. Neuvillette watched her, his mind racing. He was no stranger to duty, to carrying burdens, but this was different. This was personal, tender, a realm of emotion he was still learning to navigate. His Furina… he needed to protect her. She deserved her peace.
“May I stay with you today?” he asked, his voice softer than the rain he so often summoned.
“You don’t have to,” she said, but there was a plea in her eyes, unspoken but clear.
“I want to,” he replied, and the sincerity in his tone made her breath catch again.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the distant chirping of birds and the occasional creak of the floorboards. Neuvillette’s presence was a steady tide, calm and unyielding, washing over her without demanding anything in return. Slowly, her grip on the armrests loosened, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.
“Would you like to walk?” he asked after a time. “The air is fresh, and the streets are quiet today.”
Her eyes widened, a flicker of fear crossing her face. “I… I don’t know if I can.”
“Then we will try together,” he said, standing and offering his hand. “One step at a time.”
She stared at his hand, then at him, searching his face for judgment and finding none. Hesitantly, she placed her trembling hand in his. Her fingers were so small, but she held on firmly, like he was a lifeline. She stood, her legs unsteady, and he supported her, his arm gentle around her waist.
They stepped outside, the sunlight soft against her pale skin. The street stretched before them, dotted with puddles reflected the clouds, their colors vibrant against the asphalt. Furina’s steps were slow, each one a battle against the weight of her memories...
Neuvillette matched her pace, never rushing, never faltering.
“You’re doing well,” he murmured, and she let out a shaky laugh.
“I feel like a fish learning to walk.”
“Or perhaps a mermaid,” he said, his voice warm, almost playful. It drew a small, genuine smile from her, the first he’d seen that day.
They reached a small bench near a fountain, and she sank onto it, breathless but triumphant. Neuvillette sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. The contact was subtle, but it sent a warmth through him he couldn’t quite name.
Love… could it be so strong?
“Tell me,” she said suddenly, her voice soft but curious. “Do you ever… feel trapped by your role?”
He considered her question, his gaze drifting to the horizon. “At times,” he admitted. “The weight of justice, of maintaining order, can be… isolating. But I have found purpose in it, and in those I care for.” His eyes met hers, steady and sincere. “In you.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, but the smile lingered. “You’re too kind, Neuvillette.”
“I am honest,” he corrected gently.
They sat there, the breeze carrying the scent of flowers and water. Furina leaned against him, just slightly, and he didn’t pull away. Her weight against his was all she needed, a reminder that she was here, real, and fighting her way back to herself.
“Will you come again?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“As often as you wish,” he replied without hesitation. “And even when you do not, I will be here.”
She laughed softly, a sound like bells, fragile but hopeful. “You’re impossible.”
“And you,” he said, his voice tender, “are remarkable.”
They stayed until the sun began to dip, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. Neuvillette helped her back to the cottage, her steps a little surer, her hand still in his. Inside, he prepared a simple meal—soup and bread, nothing grand, but made with care. They ate together, the silence now comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding.
Peace.
As night fell, Furina’s eyes grew heavy, but she fought to stay awake, as if afraid to lose this moment. Neuvillette noticed, his heart softening further. “Rest,” he said, guiding her to the small couch. He draped a soft blue blanket over her, tucking it gently around her shoulders.
“Stay,” she mumbled, already half-asleep. “Just… a little longer.”
He sat beside her, his hand resting lightly on hers. “Always,” he whispered, though she was already drifting into dreams.
Neuvillette watched over her, the moonlight casting soft shadows across her face. For centuries, she had carried Fontaine’s burdens alone, and now, he vowed, she would never have to again. He was the Hydro Dragon, the Iudex of Fontaine, but in this moment, he was simply Neuvillette, the man who cared for Furina more than he could ever express…
The rain began to fall outside, as gentle as his heart felt, a lullaby for the woman who had once been a god. And as Furina slept, a small, relaxed smile on her lips, Neuvillette knew he would return tomorrow, and the day after, and every day she needed him until her legs grew strong enough, until her smile was more genuine than it had ever been.
For her, he would be the tide that carried her home.