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Wriothesley grumbled as he once more wrote a firm letter to boating association that the Wingalet would not be permitted use for fishing. It wasn't like there was fish in the sky, and while the ship could certainly float, that didn't mean it was needed anymore then just a regular ass ship.
Between the fisherman and the tourist agents, Wriothesley was getting really tired of being pestered regarding the ship. He's been trying for weeks to find a moment to redock it inside Meropide, far away from star-filled eyes, but the prison wasn't in a state to welcome her back home. So instead it got to sit on the ocean waves above, drawing unneeded attention.
Honestly, Wriothesley wished he could just stuff it at the Court or somewhere, but after they had issues of people sneaking onto it, it became apparent that he had to get the ship away from the public.
Docking it in the middle of the ocean helped. Add to it the survelience and fear of Meriopede being directly underneath it, and it detered most people. No one could easily swim out to it without being caught in Meriopede's lights, after all.
A knock at his office door dragged him out of his musings of the ship. With a curse, Wriothesley stood and approached.
"Emergencies only, remember?" He growled to the guard as he opened the door. The poor man looked as exhausted as Wriothesley felt.
"My apologies, your Grace. Another fight has broke out in the production zone, and last I saw they were trying to utilize gardemek parts."
"Fucks sake." Wriothesley curses, pushing himself out of the office and towards the elevator.
You'd think with the miracle of no longer being cursed to dissolve the people of Fontaine would relax for a bit and not go about committing crimes. Turns out, even during a nation-wide disaster, assholes were still assholes.
The bulk of the new prisoners Wriothesley had on his hands were repeat offenders. The type that didn't end up in Meriopede originally because they were still at the wrist slapping stage. Their cases didn't even have a chance of being handled by the Iudex, instead assigned to the minor judges who worked under him.
With the removal of the Oratrice, some of those shits thought their rulings were "unfair". That they required a re-trial served by someone who had actual authority. They demanded to speak with Neuvillette, and often turned violent and dumb when ignored.
Well, now they would have to deal with Wriothesley.
"What's going on here?" The duke bellows as he looks down at the production zone from the light walkways. The miscreants had boxed themselves in around various gardemek parts, the type that would cost a guard's whole salary to replace. The fact that they had some of the guards weapons meant Wriothesley would need to demote or kick out some people.
What a bloody pain.
"Your Grace-" "WE DEMAND A RETRAIL!" A guard was cut-off from the shouting of who was likely the leader of this recent fiasco.
"I don't want to deal with you any longer then I have too, and if you think the Iudex won't just extend your sentence or send you to the restricted zone, you're wrong. So for the thousandth time, request denied."
"The esteemed Iudex would find-"
"That you're all an annoying group of whinners who need to be grounded like children." Wriothelsey interupted. "You've already had trial after trail. Do you not realize that Monsieur Neuvillette still reviews the case and approves the punishment?"
"Clearly whoever wrote the report lied, your Grace, otherwise the Iudex would see it fit to release us!"
The man kept yaking, going on about their rights and how clearly something was wrong if so many of them were demanding it. What Wriothesley saw, and what he new from experience, was that they just kept talking others into it. It was real simple to take a bitter soul and make them see enemies everywhere. Wasn't that hard to convince them that their trial had gone wrong.
And with Neuvillette's backlog of work, between his usual duties and the added influx from the vacated archon, they wouldn't get a re-trial for months, if not years.
During which time, they could weasel their way onto house arrest, pinkie promise they wouldn't run off somewhere.
Wriothesley had no intention of bothering Neuvillette and the Palais staff over this bullshit. These idiots were Wriothesley's problem and they'd stay his alone.
"If you think I'm above using violence," Wriotheslay says, interupting whatever bull the man is still spouting, "then you don't realize that no one here will stop me."
That shuts up the leader. Pinches his lips real tight.
Another man, one that is always running to the infirmary over the smallest of bruises, scrambles over words.
"M-Miss Sigew-winne w-won't let you!"
"Ah, my esteemed guest, it seems you've forgotten that, beside everyone else in Fontaine, Miss Sigewinne is busy with the relief efforts. The very efforts that you folks sought to take advantage of."
The man pales. "B-But she's the h-head nurse."
"And I've lent her to the Palas as part of a deal for supplies needed to patch up the house here to keep us all from drowning. Now, unless you want to drown and be bruised for the rest of your stay, shape up. Put down those sticks of yours and accept your punishment in the isolation beds for the night. If you're good it'll only be the one."
That seemed to be enough to convince the group to shape up. Not that they knew there were no true isolation chambers nor would Wriothesley allow for more than one day if they had them. Sure, they had a wing where people were more isolated, but there was still human interaction. Wriothesley didn't want to deal with people going insane under the sea anymore then he already had too.
With a grumble, he left the situation to the guards, with a stern order to not lose their weapons this time, and headed back to his office. The stalemate barely lasted twenty minutes, but there would have to be so much paperwok given the amount of people involved. Names from both the guards and the convicts, punishments dealt, jobs shifted, rules reminded, and so on. What was going to be a busy but possible evening turned into an overworked all nighter.
And when morning came, Wriothesley ignored the call of his bed to answer another knock on his door for yet more bullshit.
He was working with shortened staff given the state of the surface, and Wriothesley refused to pull for more. The fortress had to shape up if it couldn't even push through a few months of unrest. Inbetween incidents and accounting, Wriothesley was drawing up plans to change shifts and patrols. Possible rules to add, areas to designate for certain use. The fortress, while damaged from the flood waters, was overall stable. And with the Primodial Sea no longer a threat, there was more space to tap into.
Speaking of the sea, Wriothesley would have to arrange a meeting with Neuvillette to figure out the plans for it. The duke wasn't jumping to use some weird magic water anytime soon, but it would help to at least study it and collect reports on it.
It took five hundred years for the water to not be a threat. It wouldn't hurt to ensure it stayed safe for at least five hundred more.
Without Sigewinne to drag him for meals or force him into bed, Wriothesley has easily fallen into the numb mindset of work, work, work. Endless things needed to be done, and everything felt of priority. The unrest, while quieted, was brewing in too many people's hearts and eyes. Between them and the lack of sleep, Wriothesley's age old paranoia was flaring up.
He took to sleeping in the office, to only leaving it to deal with emergencies and the odd meal. He had his tea and water inside, and a couch to pass out on when it became too much. He'd be fine.
Sigewinne would be back down in a couple weeks. She'd barge in and drag him to sleep in the infirmary. Then Wriothesley could allow himself to rest.
His head is so full of cotton that he doesn't here the soft lurch of metal as his door is opened. And by the time he realizes people are storming up his stairs, its too late.
He's on the ground, desk thrown out of the way from way too many hands. They grab at him before he can strike, body sluggish and slow. Knees hit his chest, stomach, everything they can reach. He's smashed into the ground by too many bodies and hundreds of pounds.
Adrenaline kicks in. Wriothesley hisses and forces himself upwards. Ice bites into his flesh as he punches without thought. His own body falls into violence as his mind blanks, unable to comprehend all of the information rushing in after hours of mindless scribbles.
A particularly strong foot kicks into Wriothesley's back, causing his breath to catch and to cough. He can't seem to recover from the blow fast enough, another kick hitting his chest. A cough attacking seizes his lungs and drops him to the floor faster then any man could hope.
They take advantage of it. More feet, more fists. Something hard, likely some smuggled sticks or gardemek arms.
He's going to have some serious words with the proudction zone guards.
Someone steps on his neck and Wriothesley body spasms, tries to breath through everything. His arm swings at the person and he hears the crunch of their leg, his fist. He's coughing up blood, his eyes are blurred. He can't stand (did they put a table on his legs?) and still the violence doens't end. It doesn't stop.
At least when he killed people, he made it quick.
His body drops, face down in his own snot, with a rattling cough that ends in fractured ribs and broken bones.
There's a pause, one that Wriothesley's body refuses to take advantage of. And then the kicking resumes, the cussing loud and bouncing off the walls.
And then someone blissfully calls for it to end.
"H-He's dead already! L-let's g-go!" Huh, the scardy cat.
"Are you kidding me. I don't care if his corpse was cold ass frozen, he deserves to be mangled." Wow, bloodthirsty killer much?
...wait, none of the idiots rioting were killers. Petty theives and low-brow drug dealers. Weak shit that didn't know how to stab someone if they had too.
Wriothesley wills his lungs to ease, his chest to stop heaving. If he can just play dead, if he can just trick them-
"Let's go, Aaron." Someone else says, a voice Wriothesley can't easily place. "The longer we're here, the more likely a guard is to come by, and some of the guys are hurt pretty bad." Something in that tone conveys a warning. This tight knit group isn't tight enough to hold on if anyone croaks.
The leader, Aaron, kicks Wriothesley again. The duke forces down the cry that desperately wants to esacpe down.
"Piece of shit." The sound of spitting, likely onto Wriothesley. Finally the feet move away, the office door is creaked shut, and the room falls quiet.
Wriothesley counts to a full sixty before risking moving.
And is greated by the agony his body had endured.
Everything hurts. Everything weeps blood and churns his gut. He can't feel his legs, circulation likely fucked from the table on top of it, and his chest refuses to even entertain the idea of twisting for him to move.
His arms, hilariously, are the least injured. Had they not caught Wriothesley half-alseep, this wouldn't have been a problem.
Fuck though... everything hurts...
...Wriothesley blinks his eyes open to the strange feeling of being numb. He doesn't recall when he fell asleep, but he can't really... feel anything. The office is still mostly dark, the sea above absent of even the moon's light. At most his lamp is still on, but it doesn't help Wriothesley really see anything outside of shadows.
He tries to move, and he still can't. Worst, his arms have stopped agreeing and his chest can't even let him shift his neck anymore.
He's... cold... Wriothesley notices. It's the creeping kind that starts on the edges and crawls in. The kind that lingers far longer than winter or dread. His throat throbs, his fist aches, he recognizes this feeling.
Dying. Wriothesley is... dying.
There is no rush of adrenaline, no blinding hormones to accelarete his panic. His body is already spent from the fight, from his dumb stunt of not taking care of himself.
Fuck though, Sigewinne will be pissed. She hasn't lost a single patient lost under her care and here goes Wriothesley kicking the bucket the moment she's away.
A laugh, painful, soft... heartfelt... escapes Wriothesley. What he would do to be dragged to the infirmary bed by her. To hear her ceaseless lectures, to drink her abyssmal drinks. To not be alone.
Will she be the one to find him? Be the one to finally open that door when silence greets her knocking?
Sigewinne isn't a child, she's not fragile. But she is soft, she is caring, and she is so dearly attached to Wriothesley. The warden knows this, he's the same way.
And what does that mean for Neuvillette, who is attached to so few, who has lost so much. Sigewinne will deliver the news, she wouldn't let anyone else do it. And the Iudex has been so awful at handling grief.
He'll blame himself. Wriothesley is shortstaffed because of the chaos above. It doesn't matter that Wriothesley could have pulled them back, could have prevented this. Neuvillette will see this solely as his own short comings, no one elses.
Fuck, but isn't this just another burden for the Iudex? Another grief he won't be allowed to mourn as he pushes through everything to do his job. Will Wriothesley become another Carole? A hanging phatnom that builds a paranoia so deep in the dragon no one can truly extract it, not for hundreds of years?
The Fortress is meant to be independant. If Wriothesley dies here, if Neuvillette loses him, would the dragon really be able to leave it so?
Wriothesley coughs up more blood. There's no way he can survive this. He was so, so stupid and now... now his love will have to handle his mistake, his job, his funeral.
They never had forever, but fuck if Wriothesley didn't want to give Neuvillette at least a few more decades.
Neuvillette agree's with Sigewinne to vist the duke during her brief trip back to the fortress.
"His grace has an awful habit of not sleeping when I'm not around." She comments with a sigh. "I was worried about going topside, but he insisted on it. Kept showing me the deal he signed regarding it."
"Honestly," Neuvillette says with a shake of his head as they ride the elevator down. "He acts as though we of the Palas do not understand the weight he carries. I've already arranged to have more guards sent back to the fortress and extra materials for the repairs." He waves the folder in his hands. "As well, I have issued a gag order on the press with regards to the Wingalet. People are clinging to it too strongly, wanting it to become a tourist boat. Truly, they don't understand that some things are for emergency use only."
Sigewinne nods. "Indeed. Humans are so odd. They survive one disaster and act like another will never follow. Though, I can't fault them. They are likely just being optimistic. Or perhaps just not pestimistic."
"Perhaps its because we live so long that we can see further than what has only recently been resolved." Neuvillette says with a sigh.
Sigewinne giggles, before pointing at the folder accusingly. "I agreed you could talk to his grace about that, but nothing more! You're down here to relax as well, Monsieur! I can't have both the Iudex and the Warden falling ill due to overwork."
Neuvillette offers the melusine a tired but genuine smile. "I understand, Miss Sigewinne. How about after I speak with him, we all collect lunch from the cafeteria?"
"Oooh, you bet. I have some extra coupons, so it'll be my treat. Don't tell his grace, otherwise he won't let me pay for it."
"Of course, your secret is safe with me." Neuvillette says with a smile.
The two separate as they enter the foretress proper. Sigewinne on the way to the infirmary and Neuvillette to Wriothesley's office. The guards haven't seen the duke yet, but it's still early in the morning, and he's likely trying to burn through more paperwork. From what Neuvillette has gathered, the man has just put out another fire the night before.
"Your grace?" Neuvillette calls, knocking on the door. There isn't an answer, but it wouldn't be the first time Wriothesley didn't hear him.
Unfortuently that usually meant the other was sleep deprived. Wriothesley's senses were sharp and he hated to be caught unaware. Neuvillette wouldn't be surprised if Sigewinne already had a milkshake prepared for him, she likely figured this was coming.
"Your grace," Neuvillette tries again, just in case. When silence continues he opens the door and steps inside.
The creaking of metal wakes Wriothesley. He’s been fading in and out of consciousness for the past several hours. He hasn’t been truly coherent, a strange apathetic resignation making his thoughts languid and slow. The pain has long gone numb, as has his body. He doesn’t really comprehend that he’s still alive.
Noise, the call of his name. His ears are sharp but his brain slogs behind. It’s not until the ground shakes with heavy footfalls that pain screams through him, that Wriothesley truly awakens.
“Wriothesley!” Blurs of white and blue hold him, clutch him close. Wriothesley coughs up blood, body shifting into a livewire of pain pain pain.
“F-Fuck-” His breath stutters out. He tries to push down the agony so he can speak but words are swallowed with coughs and mucus.
“Hold on!”
For a terrifying moment, Wriothesley feels his heart stop. It has too, the way his chest seizes, the pain that laces through his lungs. His whole body tries to pull away from the power that is forced inside him. But the arms that hold him are worse then chains, dragging him into the dark depths of the sea.
He’s tilted and Wriothesley’s mouth erupts with bodily fluids. Saliva, blood, muscus, vomit. A horrible concoction forces its way out of his entire body and he can barely heave for breath between each wave.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’ll make it through this.” Someone... Neuvillette? It has to be Neuvillette, even with the stutter, even with the fear. It doesn’t sound like Neuvillette and yet it does. Raw, emotional, real.
“H-hey-” Wriothesley forces out around the coughing, the vomiting. “Hey, it’s- it’s okay I’m fine.”
“You are not fine, Wriothesley!” Neuvillette bristles.
Wriothesley can’t see his love, he’s held away from the judge. Which given how much of a mess he just made, is perhaps for the best.
He coughs, more blood, more spit. There’s a laugh in Wriothesley’s voice. “N-now I am, love. Come on, let me see you.”
Silence falls. Stillness, the welcome, calm kind, settles back into the duke’s body. But the arms that hold him, the breath that shakes behind him, are anything but.
“Neuvillette,” he says softly, “I’m okay.”
The judge slowly turns him around. Wriothesley hisses, he can’t stop the sound, but the pain isn’t all encompassing as it was before. Whatever weird emergency dragon aid Neuvillette pulled clearly did something right.
The dragon’s eyes and horns are glowing. Perhaps even his nails through his gloves. Wriothelsey has to blink his eyes a few times before he can make out the other’s face. And when he does… archons he wishes he could move his hands. Neuvillette should never look like that.
“Hey, love.” Wriothesley grits out. On his back, it’s a bit harder to speak, lungs straining for air.
Neuvillette crumples, face pressed tight to Wriothesley’s chest, hair falling into blood. The duke doesn’t say anything, allows Neuvillette a moment.
A storm brews in Neuvillette’s eyes when he pulls away. The blood on his face makes him look mad. Wriothesley forces his hand to move, to grip Neuvillette.
“Don’t kill them.” He forces out.
Sharp eyes, a dragon burning through a human’s visage, looks down at Wriothesley.
A nod, sharp and quick. There is no compassion, no mercy, in those eyes. But neither does Wriothesley have any. The idiots who rebelled need only be alive so that they can be punished. So that Wriothesley can make good on his threat to them.
Neuvillette sets the duke back down, but Wriothesley knows he’ll be looked after. A ripple of pure hydro goes out, likely calling to Sigewinne, as the dragon leaves the office.
Wriothesley has many regrets, but right now, he only regrets not getting to see Neuvillette in action.
Finding the fiends is an easy task for Neuvillette. All living beings have an elemental signature, and it is childs play for a sovereign to track it. They are in a few different spots throughout the fortress. He stalks the halls, water and power trailing behind him. The few humans who come across him scurry like ants. The dragon doesn’t even notice them.
Guards rush around him, and he can feel the comforting reassurance that Sigewinne has his love handled, and he is thankful, so thankful for her. He can turn his entire focus to the boiling blood in his veins, to the ice that freezes the ground below him.
Humans so foolishly consider the elements firmly separated, but in reality they intermix, they co-exist. As a being of the purest hydro, of the greatest control, Neuvillette has a hold on all aspects of life and water.
When he enters the production zone, he pulls his targets like puppets on a string. The water inside them, that makes up their body, bends to his will with not even a hint of resistance. He wraps them up in bubbles of water and their own blood. They won’t drown, he’ll permit air to shift from cell to cell, but they’re entire bodies will be nothing but water, nothing but agony.
From the production zone to the residence quarters and then to the infirmary. It’s empty, an ideal location to leave these asinine mortals.
Neuvillette is not kind when he slams the bubbles onto the floor, popping them and releasing the humans to painful gasping and sobbing. They vomit up the water that he forced into them, a twisted opposite to what he had done with Wriothesley just moments prior.
“For assaulting the Duke of Meropide and attempted assassination, you have all been sentenced to the bowels of the Fortress. You will be bound and isolated, left to rot and lose your wits. The death you so foolishly tried to inflict on another will be the only hope you have for relief, for escape.” Neuvillette bangs his cane, the sound loud and echoing endlessly in the echo chamber. The humans cower, they heave from sensory overload and fear. Neuvillette doesn’t care, doesn’t comprehend, these mortals, they dared to, they dared to-
“Neuvillette.” The sovereign turns sharply, looking up to the entrance of the infirmary. Wriothesley is there, still in his bloody clothes. Somehow he is standing there, breathing, alive and Neuvillette… Neuvillette-
“Well, you all wanted to have a re-trial. Looks like you got one.” Wriothesley says with a laugh followed by a cough. Sigewinne and a senior guard, one Neuvillette has known for every generation, help the duke lean against the railing. “If you all behave, I may just speak with the Iudex here on your behalf and lighten your sentence. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Wriothelsey-” Neuvillette hisses, eyes narrowing.
The duke meets his eyes with his own. The ice there melts, deceptively soft.
“Last I checked, I was the ruler here, love. You’re the one who gave me that power.”
Neuvillette is silent for a moment, taking in his beloved’s appearance, his vitality.
He almost lost that, he almost-
Neuvillette closes his eyes and exhales slowly. No one dares to speak as he recenters himself, as the dragon tucks away from the human heart that weeps far too easily.
His body shakes, he wants Wriothesley’s warmth. Neuvillette shifts his focus fully to Wriothesley, picking his beloved up like a sack of potatoes. Wriothesley, bless him, allows the carry though he mumbles about his image and his still numb bones. As Neuvillete carries him, the duke shouts orders to the guards. Makes some joke to a frightened convict, asks Sigewinne for some tea.
The judge doesn’t really notice any of it. He pays attention to Wriothesley’s warm body, his even breaths, his steady heartbeat. He doesn’t let go until they are in Wriothesley’s private chambers, until he sets Wriothesley onto the bed.
The smell of blood is still present, its on Neuvillette, it’s on Wriothesley-
“Hey,” Wriothesley says with a smile. “I’m fine, Neuvillette. For real this time.”
“You weren’t.” Neuvillette says, breathing through his nose, forcing his body calm as he settles on the floor, as he wraps his arms around Wriothesley’s waist so he can burry himself against him. “Beloved you weren’t.”
“But I am now.” Wriothesley says again. The warden leans heavily on top of Neuvillette. “I didn’t think I would be though.” He says, soft, vulnerable. Neuvillette makes a soft sound, holding him tighter. “I thought I was going to die. Not the first time I’ve thought that but, well, it has been a while.”
They hold each other. When Neuvillette finally pulls back, it is only to examine Wriothesley, to send a small ripple of his power through him. Wriothesley’s wounds, his body, are horrible. But the damage is fresh, and between Neuvillette’s emergency repair and Sigewinne’s care, he’s alive. Not well, not even close, but…
“You’re on bed rest for the rest of the week.” Neuvillette says.
Wriothesley laughs, coughs, holds Neuvillette like a gem. “Sigewinne said two.”
“Then we shall defer to her greater knowledge.” Neuvillette says. “And then you will be, as you put it, fine.”
Wriothesley chuckles, presses a soft kiss to Neuvillette’s hair. Grimaces when blood smears against his lip.
“Okay, as sexy as you going feral there was, we really need to get cleaned up. A bath will help calm you down, right?”
“And it will help you heal.” Neuvillette replies. He picks Wriothesley up again, nicer this time, more proper and without the anxious need.
Neuvillette takes him to the bathroom, and draws the bath. He carefully helps his love strip before stripping himself. They settle against one another in the warm water. Wriothelsey relaxes as Neuvuillette slowly cleans them both. The Iudex listens to the water, locating the echoes in Wriothesley's still healing muscles. Sigewinne probably gave him an adrenaline shot to get him to stand, with how damaged his legs are. Neuvillette understand why, recognizes his own loss of control, the need he had to see Wriothesley before he overstepped even further in the Fortress.
Caring for another as deeply as he allowed with Wriothesley was... difficult for the dragon. When his emotions ran high, his power answered and instinct threatened to take over. He was reminded of why he kept his distance from humans for so long, why he hadn't even allowed the Melusines or Furina as close as he did Wriothesley. It was... frightening at times.
"You're thinking too much." Wriothesley groans out, half asleep against Neuvillette.
"And you were not thinking at all." Neuvillette says with a scoff. "I doubt those minor convicts could get the drop on you without you neglecting yourself. Sigewinne and I will expect a full incident report in the morning."
"Neuvillette, I'm on bed rest." Wriothesley whines.
"Hmmm, yes, you're right. I suppose I'll just have to stay down here until you're better and I can receive it."
The duke grimaces. "Love you don't-"
"Wriothesley." Neuvillette interupts. They're eyes lock.
"The night." Wriothesley barters.
"A week."
"The people would go mad, Neuvillette. Three days?"
The Iudex sighs. "Very well, three days." He glares at his beloved. "But I expect frequent updates to your recovery, and once you legs are better suited to carry you, a visit."
"Neuvillette I don't want to bother-"
"It's not a bother, Wriothesley." Neuvillette interupts again. He cups the other's cheek. "You are never a bother. We both lead very busy lives, and Fontaine is still recovering from turmoil, but that does not mean we are to neglect ourselves. Beloved, if you fall, Meropide loses its duke, and I, my love. Do not take such things from us. Take care of yourself."
"Alright, alright, I hear you." Wriothesley grumbles. He bonks his head against Neuvillette's. "You better be resting up there as well, love. I don't want to hear you blasted some poor human because they snuck up on you."
Neuvillette sighs but doesn't speak again, sinking against Wriothesley as the water starts to cool.
After their bath, Neuvillette helps Wriothesley dress and they both settles into the duke's bed. Neuvillette falls alseep easily, reassured that Wriothesley is alive and well.
Wriothelsey lingers awake, watching his love breath. He feels the other's warmth, and realizing what he had almost lost, what he had almost caused Neuvillette to lose. The warden has never been good at stopping himself from overworking but if it would keep him here, beside Neuvillette, for longer... perhaps he would have to try.