Archive of Our Own ^beta

It is a wonder Neuvillette was able to keep his crying a secret for so long. “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry.” The last person to utter these words was a certain outlander from many centuries ago. The new present has no need for fairytales.

Today, like many others as of late, is drenched in rain. But in the high-rise Fontaine City, humans need no fear of the downpour. Look down to the busy streets and you’ll find a dazzling array of car headlights reflecting off the wet street. Listen and you shall hear thousands of phone calls occurring in the sprawling metropolis. No rain shall touch you under the plastic umbrellas, which mortals have made popular as of late. In the past five-hundred years, the city has changed beyond recognition.

Yet Neuvillette, the Hydro Sovereign, Chief Justice, Ambassador of Fontaine, still remains the same.

Currently, he is working on preparing the verdict for a national case. Neuvillette’s new secretary—if new means got hired 50 years ago—Lillia had been lecturing him about the backlog of work to be done.

Another corruption case. Neuvillette sighs. With nothing better to do, he draws a cup of tea. A blend one of his late companions rather enjoyed.

It is on dreary days such as these that the hydro sovereign is overwhelmed with past memories. Looking out of his office windows, Neuvillette is forced to realize how different Fontaine is. Mortals can accomplish so much in order to provide fulfillment to their short lives. He had merely blinked, and the world had changed.

“Monsieur!” Lillia shouts. Neuvillette’s new melusine secretary enters his office, cute little glasses are perched on her nose. She gently offers him a cup of hot tea when he looks up. “How is the court case coming along, Monsieur?”

“It's...fine,” He mutters back as he is still lost in thought. “Remind me again, when is my opinion due?”

“About that Monsieur, Yanfei and Co. were able to resolve the dispute outside of the public courts!”

“Oh? I am surprised. Ms. Yanfei usually prefers the courtroom, no?”

Lillia freezes. Nervously, almost cartoonishly so.

“A-” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “A man from Liyue talked to her.” Her big doe eyes are glued to the floor. “He is one of Morax’s disciples. I think the local term is adepti? I know he and Yanfei have worked together in the past, lawyer and a devotee of the law! Isn’t that fascinating, Monsieur?”

She rambles on. Poor girl looks terrified. Neuvillette silently scolds himself. He shouldn’t have ranted to her about his hatred of that god. Very unprofessional Neuvillette.

“No need to be so timid, Lillia.” Neuvillette lightly pats her head. Immediately, the tension present within her expression fades away. He would need to stifle his headache for now. “Do not worry about me, little one.” He smiles at his own joke.

“Monsieur! Making fun of my height is rather rude!” She pouts, crossing her little arms.

Neuvillette only chuckles. “Back to the matter at hand, do I have a free day…boss?”

The little melusine visibly brightens at the title. is “Ahem, yes! Because I am such a kind boss, you shall have the day off! Go do…non-working things!” She maneuvers her little gray paws to give a thumbs up.

It only takes two seconds for her to come rushing back into the room.

“Monsieur Neuvillette! There is someone requesting your visit.” His secretary squeals diligently.

“Tell them they need to make an appointment, Lillia.”

“But Monsieur, this is the man from Liyue. And-” she pauses, reaching for the right words to say.. “Monsieur, this man claims to be the late archon Rex Lapis!” Her high voice squeaks.

Neuvillette froze.

“Excuse me?”

Deus Auri, Rex lapis, Morax, Lord of Geo. Wasn’t that old archon gone? No, wait, that star-touched traveler had told him of the snake shedding its skin. But even so, Morax would be far too rational to do something like this. It must be an imposter.

How dare a mortal impersonate a divine being.

“Lillia.”

“Yes, Monsieur?”

“Please escort this man into my office,” Neuvillette tells her as he wipes the tea off his desk. “He is most likely a fake, and will receive the appropriate judgment.”

Lillia nods briskly and skips out of the office.

How many years ago did that archon “die”? Four, no five hundred? It was before Furina gave up her godhood by at least two years. Or moments to Neuvillette, a thousand year old dragon. Funny to think that such a major event was only a blip in his own existence. Then again, Morax didn’t truly die. A significant event to mortals. Not to him.

This figure, however adeptal Lillia believes him to be, cannot possibly embody the sheer impotence of that cowardly lizard.

A foreign voice drifts from beyond the door. Moments after, Lillia hops through with an odd man at her side. The first thing Neuvillette sees are his eyes. They are the color of pure gold. The light reflecting off of them makes it look like molten metal, swirling around the man’s slitted irises. Hints of red eyeliner are barely visible, flanking each eye. And that gaze, a gaze of ever-condescending importance.

“Hello, Neuvillette.” Rex Lapis says. “Do you still intend to kill me?”

…this is why Neuvillette hates archons.

“Morax.” He responds curtly. The archon nods back, relaxed as ever.

Morax’s appearance has changed significantly over the five-hundred years since they last met. Morax has cut his hair to shoulder length, but now leaves it untied. It looks almost like a small mullet. Which is the most ridiculous thing Neuvillette has seen in a while. To think these are the drapings of an archon.

Ever the fan of dress shirts, the archon sported a black oxford shirt with gold detailing. If one were to look closely, they would spot the geo symbols on the buttons. He stands in such contrast to Neuvillte’s own attire. He feels almost underdressed with his hair cut short and standard black suit.

Morax gave a small chuckle. “I see you are restrained as ever. Age will never change some things. Say Neuvillette, have you ever considered retirement?”

What a ludicrous idea. “Not until every archon remains judged, Morax. Why are you in Fontaine?”

Morax gazes pass him, a wistful look in his eyes. “To do some sightseeing. It has been a long time since I last laid eyes on Fontaine’s beautiful waters. I'm glad I remember they always looked best in autumn.”

Morax clearly senses his agitation yet keeps his look of absolute calm. The hubris of this god. It disgusts Neuvillette. Neuvillette could only manage to grit his next words out by the skin of his teeth. “Then I suggest you leave my office.”

“Actually, I would like to discuss some things with you.” The lizard looks towards Lillia. “Though I would prefer they be left private. These matters can be rather delicate.” He smiles at her.

Morax must be trying to infuriate Neuvillette. First showing up in his domain, then making such thoughtless remarks towards a melusine. “Lillia.” He tried to remain composed. “Please leave. Do not let anyone in until Morax leaves.”

The little melusine nodded, a little fearfully, and closed the door behind her silently. Neuvillette would have to apologize for his tone later.

“A lovely lady, isn't she?”

“Let’s skip pleasantries. Please make discussion brief. I have important business to attend to.”

Morax sighs. Uninvited, he takes the seat in front of Neuvillette’s desk. “You seek to judge the archons, yes?” He asks.

Neuvillette can only bring himself to give a curt nod. His agitation currently outweighs his curiosity as to where this archon intends to lead the conversation.

“Good. I bring news.” Morax fixes his gaze onto Neuvillette. “Barbatos is dead.”

What?

“That fool, all that alcohol must have finally gotten to him. The Ragnvinder family said he passed on a decade ago. Peacefully. Rather fitting if I do say so myself. Since he was still pretending to be a mortal, news hasn’t quite gotten around yet. Do not worry too much. You are not the only one who found out late.” Neuvillette briefly caught Morax’s gaze. His bright gold eyes, earlier resembling freshly-cut cor lapis, have rusted to dull metal.

The shock overwhelms Neuvillette. The last time this had happened, well it was when Morax pretended to die. Since then, Liyue remains without an archon. But Mondstat’s archon is actually gone. Dead.

Neuvillette never met Barbatos. The god had always been content to hide behind various disguises, so Neuvillette never found him. He was much too busy to search anyway. Now he will never have the opportunity.

“Mondstadt is archonless.” That was all Neuvillette could muster. The shock still overwhelmed him at that moment. He blinked, and the second oldest archon died. Nothing could have prepared him for this. “You are now the last of the original seven.”

“That I am,” Morax says with a sense of finality.

Neuvillette gazes at the oldest man of Teyvat. The last man to ever kill a dragon. He is looking down with rusted eyes and fumbling with wrinkled hands. He has a guilty expression. An ashamed expression. Neuvillette doesn’t want this.

“Get out of my office.”

—

It is a cold day. Not yet bearing rain but dreary nonetheless. A fitting day for Neuvillette to immerse himself in the court case he had previously neglected. He needs to distract himself.

Apparently, some government official had swindled a random citizen out of money. It perplexed Neuvillette. In the past, maybe he would have been able to analyze the relationships more accurately. But like how vision starts to blur with age, Neuvillette’s emotions have become foreign.

He has grown distant from the people of Fontaine. He is perched on a twelve story building after all, But sometimes he wonders, it is something more than that? Where were the days mortals enchanted him so much that he took one as his lover? Where was that golden haired girl who changed his entire outlook on human bonds and relationships? Where was his humanity?

Six feet under the ground. That was his answer.

Did Morax ever feel this way?

Morax murdered the Geo Sovereign. Neuvillette knows this. He was formerly known as the God of War, a brutal warrior who killed beasts and gods alike. It is said that he would bury enemies under mountains, crushing them to death. He was a man of no mercy.

I know you. I know the beast you are. So why? Why did you look so human?

Neuvillette had a hard time sleeping last night. He was right there. Morax was right there. And while violence was generally frowned upon in this day and age, Neuvillette let him go. But, he rationalized, it would be rather rude to carry out judgment after receiving such grave news.

If he’s being honest, Neuvillette does not know where his desire to judge the archons comes from. Well it was obvious that the desire carried over from the previous hydro sovereign, but did that truly make it his own?

He liked to think of it as an instinct. Birds must migrate, humans must discover, dragons must defend. The previous sovereign remains loyal to his own kind through Neuvillette’s eventual judgment. Even beyond death he is defending his own species.

But he also knows of several humans doing the same, but ending up in less than legal circumstances. No matter. It’s not like he was human to begin with.

“Iudex Neuvillette? You wanted to see me?”

A small women pokes her head through the door. Her hair is the color of strawberry macrons, and eyes reminiscent of Liuyuean jade. She is wearing a simple collared shirt, sweater, and pant combo, albeit more colorful than the average person. Appendages stick out from behind her beret, and that’s when Neuvillette realized what time it was.

“Ah Ms. Yanfei. Apologies, am I late?”

“Yes,” she answers matter of factly.

“My deepest apologies. Please excuse my memory, I am quite old.” He says in a monotone voice. His sarcasm reaches Yanfei who chuckles.

“Of course. Don’t worry Monsiuer, I am also very old.” Yanfei strides confidently into Neuvillette’s office. “I assume you are here to talk legalities. Was there a problem with my handling of the Mourrain Lepin case?”

Neuvillette gestures for her to sit at his desk as he prepares a cup of tea. “Yes,” he comments while pouring a caffeinated blend. “I happened to come across some important information. While I have no doubt in your legal skill, I would like to confirm you chose a private settlement with this in mind.”

Yanfei graciously accepts the tea. “Of course.”

Neuvillette hands a small stapled pamphlet to her. “Senator Mourrain is Monsiuer Lepin’s biological brother. Were you aware of this?”

Yanfei pauses, obviously tense. “Yes I was.”

“Why didn’t you submit this in your report?”

Yanfei looks away. The normally confident lawyer has a guilty expression. “Monsieur, I feared you would interfere with the ruling. Its matters like this that create a civil settlement. I think it would be best for both parties to work this out privately.” Her response is soft, yet strongly worded.

Neuvillette sighs. He is, a little, offended that Yanfei sees him so immaturely. “I assure you Ms. Yanfei, I will not act like a child.”

“I never meant to assume!” She quickly replies. “Apologies if it came off that way. I am just of the opinion that Senator Mourrain is too hostile towards his brother for the case to proceed publically.”

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

Yanfei looks apprehensive. “Well, I don’t know the full details. But I am under the impression that Senator Mourrain…struggled with his brother. Or more like his parents put a wedge in their relationship.” She sighed. “Monsiuer both of them have mental issues. It’s believed that Senator Mourrain perused his career path with the end goal of hurting his brother in mind. Further details, I’m afraid, would be too personal.” She treads carefully.

“But how does that matter in terms of a public trial?” Neuvillette is confused. Perhaps some feelings were involved, but that shouldn’t be been a big deal. Furthermore if Senator Mourrain is mentally unwell, the public should have know! Yanfei is treating this case with caution it does not deserve. “Did you change this trial out of pity?”

Yanfei looks surprised at his comment. “Monsiuer…their trauma is quite severe. Pity is not an adequate description I’m afraid.”

“How so? Government corruption, especially for some self-winded revenge plot, is rather serious.”

“I am aware. Monsiuer proceeding with a public trial would be in violation of the personal privileges act, as deemed by myself and Lepin’s lawyer. I assure you that we are making the right decision here.”

Neuvillette wrinkled his nose. While personal privilege is undoubtedly important, a family issue seems like a stretch of the definition. What was the worst that could happen? Senator Mourrain crying in court? That’s a nonissue.

However, he is able to recognize fights he will not win. “If both parties agree, the court will approve this.” He concedes. Yanfei may be a little too naive, but she is a good lawyer. He wouldn’t want to press this issue any further. “I am afraid I have other matters to attend to. Thank you for coming to meet with me. I appreciate the communication.”

Yanfei immediately looked relieved. “Thank you Iudex. I will let Lepin’s lawyer know as soon as the official paperwork gets submitted.”

Neuvillette nods. “Then excuse me for a moment while I draft a notice.”

“Of course.” Yanfei picks up her coffee and papers. Not unlike Lillia, she trots out of his office. Her little appendages bounce up and down. Before closing the door, she adds, “You are truly kind Monsieur!”

Neuvillette scoffs as the door clicks shut. Yanfei would never believe that for a second.

—

He once knew a girl, and her performances were magic.

Her song sounded like clear drops of dew. He heard her hum in passing but never expected such an angelic voice. The velvet tones of her voice were astonishing, especially for someone who cried so much. Her dance was one of future mourning. Each dainty step painted a precise picture of the perfect planet, only to jerk his eyes to the reality that the most perfect person wouldn’t live inside.

It was in that moment that he truly saw her. A scared artist. A scarred artist. She told a story of giving, of grieving, and of a little girl rekindling her passion.

And then he knew he would do everything in his power to fulfill her dreams.

—

When Neuvillette arose from his slumber, a lizard was in his office. As his consciousness flutters awake, he only has one question on his mind.

“Why are you here?” His previously aggressive tone had long faded into bleak exhaustion.

Morax tilts his head, probably to get a better look at his defenseless form.

“You have been alive for many years now.” Morax replies calmly, dodging the question. “One-thousand is quite an accomplishment. I would commend your feat, but I fear that would come off as condescending.”

“It very much would.”

Morax smiles.

Neuvillette slowly lifts himself up. He had fallen asleep at his desk, by now it was well past sunset. His old bones cracked like a cat, echoing throughout the room.

Today, Morax is dressed in a gray turtleneck sweater. Unlike his fitted shirt from yesterday, the sweater is slightly oversized. It reminded him of a companion that liked oversized things. Why did he have to see him after dreaming of her?

“I am glad to see Yanfei is still a lawyer.” Morax broke the silence. “However, I am surprised she hasn’t decided to become a judge in Fontaine. Perhaps time has changed her ideals of justice. Time changes many things.”

“You’re older than me.” This time Neuvillette ignored Morax. “Why do you feel the need to talk to your destined enemy about age?” It feels like a thinly veiled threat, remained unspoken.

Instead of continuing to ramble, Morax grows quiet. Timid.

“I am…curious as to how time is treating you,” Morax states gently.

“Excuse me?”

Neuvillette is saying that a lot lately. How could he not when his destined enemy wears an expression of guilt and sorrow?

“I do not care for hollow niceties, Morax.”

“I assure you I am being fully sincere.” Morax simply replies.

And there the two sit. Neuvillette, body silhouetted by the night sky visible through large glass walls of his office, and Morax, who looked less like a god and more like a weathered old man. His expression is dull and gray, perhaps because of the dusk lighting. Or, more interestingly, maybe he is also tired.

Time changes many things.

Morax’s lusterless eyes look beyond Neuvillette to the stars. The archon, dressed so plainly, seems comfortable with the quiet. It’s like Morax is lost in a daydream.

Morax is a monster. But Neuvillette cannot stop him from recognizing grief. “Your loss,” Neuvillette’s words come out awkward and disjointed. “I am sorry.” Morax pauses and listens. “I was told Barbatos was a rather agreeable person.”

“That's funny. I remember him as a perpetual drunkard.” Morax muses, still not fully present. “Did Furina tell you about him?”

Neuvillette flinches at the sudden mention of her name. “She did.”

“She was a wonderful archon,” Morax hums. “Maybe even the best.”

Neuvillette didn’t expect Morax’s high praise. He nods cautiously at Morax’s statement. She had spoken well of him in the past. To be honest, she has held most of her praise out of respect for Neuvillette’s feelings. Which makes it all the more painful to talk about her with him.

“Did you find out her story from the traveler?”

At the mention of their old friend Morax lights up. “Ah, them. I haven't heard about their story in so many centuries. It is nice to know there are still people that will remember their disposition.”

Morax was correct in that front. The traveler is now the subject of history books. A savior too holy for mankind. There is barely anyone who remembers them. Between the archons, perhaps Guuji Yae if she’s still alive, the keepers of their memory are few and far between.

“To answer your question,” Morax continues, “yes. However, she did eventually tell all of us herself right before she died. I am…sorry for your loss as well.”

Neuvillette can feel himself go tense. Perhaps more curtly than he would have liked, he mutters a strained, “…thank you.”

By now, Morax is staring at him. Eyes bore into Neuvillette, like how the warden’s did whenever Neuvillette overworked himself. Morax was staring out of concern. And maybe it’s because of his lover, but for a single second Neuvillette forgets about his judgment and the fury of the sovereigns. He only sees another man who has lived far too long. He sees the only other person who could possibly share in his own grief. “Time wears on me,” He says. “it wears on us both.”

And Zhongli smiles.

“That it does.”

“Monsiuers!” It’s Lillia. Her bright face was much needed. Still tentive, she skips over to the two giant dragons. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s no matter.” Morax immediately replies.

Lillia looks at him briefly, thankfully, before turning her gaze back to Neuvillette. Her face takes on a stern expression. “Apologies, but it is getting rather late. Monsiuer you need rest.”

Honestly, this girl. “Lillia-“

The little mesuline pouts. “No! I refuse!” Neuvillette sighs. Does she really have to do this at eleven every night? Morax was finally letting down his guard, this was Neuvillette’s opportunity!

“But I took a-“

Lillia literally growls at him.

“It’s alright.” Morax lifts himself off of Neuvillette furniture. His eyes sparkle with laughter. “I hope to see you tomorrow Neuvillette.”

Lilia’s presence has broken Neuvillete out of his vulnerable state. Now fully present his is able to indulge in disgust. It clearly shows on his face because Morax chuckles out loud.

“Its nappy time now Monsieur!”

“Lillia please….”

Morax leaves his office like a ghost. The only acknowledgement of his former presence is the light sparkle of Geo in the air flickering in the moonlight. Neuvillette feels it dust his scales as he also makes his exit.

It’s warm.

It has been a long time since Neuvillette felt warm.

—

“Monsieur Neuvillette?”

“Yes Lillia?”

“I’ve been worried about you.”

“About me? Why?”

“Monsieur um..” Lillia looks around carefully before standing on the tips of her paws. Neuvillette complied with her subtle request and bent down so she could whisper into his ear. “Morax. Is he not making you distressed? I am worried about you”

“And what would give you that idea?” Neuvillette asks, bemused.

Lillia ponders this for a good bit. “Well every time you end up talking, you look very tired afterwards. And it’s not like I don’t know history either. Has he been threatening you?!”

Lillia lifts her little gray paws into a fighting stance. Neuvillette chuckles and pats her head because, “Of course not. No one would be able to threaten me.”

He was the one doing the threatening. In fact, Morax was being placid. Which, yes unsettled Neuvillette, but did not warrant extreme action.

Lillia still looks at him with concern. “Maybe not threaten but….” she trails off. “Are you ok?”

“Lillia, I am doing very well.”

That is a lie and Neuvillette knows it.

“…let me know if you need anything.”

“I always will.”

Another lie. Neuvillette had always been bad at that. He failed to reach out to Focalors, he failed to reach out to the sovereigns, he failed to reach out to his lover, he failed to reach out to her. He conducted a lonely existence.

Lillia knew this of course. The young melusine is rather bright. “Please Monsieur. Please promise.”

Promise me, the dancer had said. Neuvillette has to work to maintain composure.

“Fine, I swear.”

“Thank you. Make sure to take a break after your talk,” Lillia says with a wince.

“Is he here?”

“Yes.” She grimaces

Neuvillette sighs. “Let him in. He’s not that—no never mind.” Neuvillette waves away the thought, doing his best to project the confidence of a millennia old being.

“Whatever you say Monsiuer.”

Lillia does not buy it.

—

“Neuvillette. Thank you for allowing me into your office for the third day in a row.”

Morax enters his office in a tan cardigan embroidered in osmanthus and dark linen pants. It’s his simplest outfit so far—if not for the ostentatious golden glasses he is wearing.

Neuvillette is, once again, in a regular black suit, tired.

“If you are to be so bold as to try, how much am I really able to resist?” At this, a flash of guilt crosses Morax’s eyes. Neuvillette stifles his quick gasp. “My apologies, that came out ruder than intended.”

Neuvillette did not want to be angry. Judgement is best reserved when the subject is not vulnerable. Yes, that is the only reason why he refrained from glaring at the archon. The only reason.

“This may sound odd, as the two of you are nothing alike, but Barbatos treated me much the same.”

Morax stares out of window once again, reminiscing on far distant memories. It must have been that gaze of agony that compelled Neuvillette to stand and join him. Two dragons stand side by side, perched in their tower, above the common folk.

“How much did he hate you?” Neuvillette asks Morax’s reflection.

It chuckles. “Not much.”

“That was my attempt at humor. Apologies.”

“Once again, no need. My sense of humor is also rather dry.”

“I am the hydro sovereign. My humor is not dry.”

“That was funny.”

Morax makes his way away from the window, and back into the plush guest chair in Neuvillette’s office.

“It has been a long time since I have gotten to laugh like this,” Neuvillette admits.

“Has it been lonely?”

He knows. He knows Neuvillette. He knows the last person to ever really, truly, understand him…she’s….

“Fuina. She’s gone.”

In an instant, Morax’s expression softens. Empathy dawns on his incredibly human-looking face.

“Do you miss her?” He asks gently.

Neuvillette can’t say it, but Morax already knows the answer. Because they both know, she was everything.

Two conversations unfold: the worldly, and the immortal.

“I had many loved ones,” I can empathize with you.

“Did you get used to it?” Will I get used to it?

Zhongli thought back. A gray-haired ghost, five cherished children, dead blue eyes. If he had learned one thing in his too-long life it was, “Never.”

Rain clouds gather outside the window. For weeks the sky has been overcast, and for the first time in a long time, a slight trickle of rain is visible.

“I still do not like you.”

“I know.” Morax acknowledges.

The two sit opposed, both neglecting eye contact. Neuvillette’s desk acts as a physical barrier, one that he is thankful for. Because, even though the two beings are in his office, Neuvillette feels absolutely exposed. In the presence of this god devoid of anger he is afraid.

“Why am I sharing everything?” His voice comes out hoarse and he blushes.

Morax touches his chin and pauses for a moment. He is annoyingly calm, Neuvillette thinks.

“When was the last time you shared your thoughts with anyone?”

“Like any mortal would understand,” Neuvillete bites back immediately. “And I am not friends with archons, Morax.”

Morax remains calm. “That’s odd. I’ve only shared my sorrow with humans.” His golden eyes are firm like the geodes he has come fo symbolize.

“What would possess you to do that? Mortals will never understand us. Why tell them if both of you know that they're just going to die? Why burden yourself with their short lives?”

Because it was truly a mystery. What kind of being would elect to grieve over and over?

“Are you recommending I don’t get attached?” Morax asks cooly and Neuvillette is able to catch a glance of that trademark archon arrogance.

Screw politeness. “Are you saying you still do?”

And Morax smiles at his anger.

“You are far younger than I imagined. Tell me, have you lived these past five hundred years alone in the rain? How many friends have you made in these past five hundred years?”

Any attempt to make peace has vanished because archons can’t help but only consider their own grand perspective. Neuvillette immediately stands up.

“You dare come into my domain and speak these-”

“Do let the fear of loss chain you to a life of solitude? For five-hundred years you have looked down on humanity? All because of their mortality?” Morax whispers, firm and commanding. He briefly breaks eye contact, as if unsure what to say next, then stares Neuvillette dead in the eye.

“Tell me, when Furina was forced to be alone for five hundred years, when she was pressured and ridiculed by the very people she was throwing her life away to protect, did she ever falter?”

“Furina is dead!” Neuvillette shouts.

He can hear the crack then burst of the dam in his heart. Hundreds of years of sorrow fill every muscle in his body, every scale.

A cherished friend, promised to be forever, had left him. So many others that he was prepared for still stung with every step. People he would never see again.

“All the more reason to carry on her memory,” Morax replies, a little louder than normal. Neuviellte is standing, practically towering over Morax. But it is clear from his voice who is in power here. “People will die, but it is your duty to remember them. To love them. She would want you to be merciful.”

That bastard.

“You don’t understand! No matter how many people died, no matter how many people hated her, I was there. At least she knew somebody also suffered! I have no one! I have been alone for so many years without a single soul to even realize my pain!”

“And whose fault is that?” Morax is cold.

“How dare you place blame on me. You, an adeptus with many other long lived friends, cannot possibly understand what it's like to lose the only person to ever know you! You may have human friends, but you have also had adepti from the very start! Not only that, you know other archons who you are inherently connected to! I only had her! And she’s gone! You now expect me to gain the mental stability to experience grief hundreds of times over, and for what? More stress, more pain? You said you’ve never gotten used to loss, but I never knew how to deal with it in the first place!”

Pellets of rain smash the windows. Neuvillette is panting. The two beings remain locked in a harsh stare. One gaze of pure hatred, and one of firm standards. And neither stubborn old fool refuses to let up.

“I do not fully understand your circumstances, that is true. But tell me, is this any better? Are you really fulfilled right now?” Morax glares at him.

“Joy is a fickle thing, it comes in such short bursts, but is the one thing that keeps us going. Think about the mundane memories, like the tea Lillia brings you. Old friends singing with each other. Proposals and celebrations. Aren’t these short moments worth loving for?”

“But grief is eternal.”

Neuvillette’s voice breaks.
Morax’s gaze softens.

Morax takes great care to step lightly towards Neuvillette. The sparkles in his eyes ripple out slowly.

“You are going to experience grief forever, because you have already loved before,” he says quietly, his tone resembling a parent now, as if Neuvillette is a scared child.

“You will forever mourn Furina’s death and it will make you miserable. Why deprive yourself of these happy moments if you are going to suffer anyway?”

“Just…stop,” Neuvillette shakes his head.

The shower outside has degraded too a downpour. Even with the loud noises of thunder, Morax’s words still seem to piece Neuvillette. And it hurts.

“You arrogant gods.” His voice is a whine. Just barely audible. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I never wanted to be like this.”

“I know.” Neuvillette knows too. He knows Morax is not being arrogant. He knows that he actually cares.

He’s not some arrogant archon, he’s an old man.

“It’s unfair.” Because it still is. Morax still has adepti left to keep him company and it’s completely true when Neuvillette says he had nothing.

“I know.” Because that’s why Morax reached out. So show Neuvillette that he’s not alone.

“I just don’t want to get hurt.” Because everything hurts.

“I know.” Because he feels the same.

Morax stares into Neuvillette’s eyes.

They say that the eyes are the key to the soul.

Neuvillette’s eyes should be multicolored, but for centuries they have mellowed out to a dull grey, the color of the skies Fontaine is known for. The citizens may have forgotten why their climate is so dreary, but Zhongli was told many secrets. And unfortunately for Neuvillette, he has an excellent memory.

“You are already in so much pain. Just look at the sky.” Morax gestures towards the downpour. “You still need to live,” he comments with a smile.

For the first time Neuvillette looks so young. A child forced to bear the burden of centuries passing. A mere thousand years, not a fate Zhongli wishes on anyone.

Neuvillette’s pleading comes out as a whisper. He shakes while asking a simple, “Why?”

“Because she would want you to.”

Tears start to drip down Neuvillette’s face. He gingerly sits back down in his chair looking utterly defeated. Morax remains completely silent as Neuvillete lightly dabs his face with a tissue.

It takes him a moment to regain his composure. “No, that’s not what I meant,” Neuvillette says quietly. His slightly red eyes fall back into a cautious glare. “Why are you so adamant on helping me?”

Ah. The one question Zhongli has been avoiding all this time. That young dragon finally realized.

“Because, Neuvillette,” Zhongli whispered. “I am dying.” He smiled.

It takes a moment for Neuvillette to process that.

“No, you are lying,” Neuvillette says suddenly, right as rain.

“I am not,” Morax responds, stubborn as stone. “My time on this plane is coming to an end.”

No. Neuvillette does not accept this. He can feel a whirlpool of emotions starting to stir inside his already complicated emotional state. Anger, there is so much red hot anger in there. He finds remorse too–something that he never realized was locked inside himself. And, like a single teardrop he finds a trickle of…grief? No. This can’t be happening.

Neuvillette’s entire body tenses. “No, no, no you cannot possibly die. You have lived for thousands of years-”

“Even I will return to the dust someday,” Morax says wistfully. There is a far off look in his eyes.

He’s so calm. Neuvillette feels his angry turn to fury.

“So you did this just to torture me? To make me confront the reality that…that I’m going to be alone. I am going to be alone…again.”

These archons have a nasty habit of getting Neuvillette attached to them.

“No you are not,” Morax says with archon arogantness. “Because you will not give up on humanity.”

“How can you be so sure?” Neuvillette spits out angrily.

Morax smiles. “I’m not.”

Morax leans forward on the table and sighs. “You have been so strong for surviving this hard,” he says gingerly. “I say these things not out of pity or meanness, but of care, Neuvillette. Please Neuvillette,” If the projection of strength Morax must have been putting on cracked when he told Neuvillette of Barbadtos's death, it now shatters.

Neuvillette stares, awestruck, at the single tear that falls from Morax’s eye.

“I see so much of myself in you. And because I know how it feels I’m not asking you to refrain from the angry road,” he begs. “I’m asking you to go down any road. Move forward. Please.”

When Neuvillette fails to respond Morax’s plea falls into a heartbroken smile.

“Barbatos told me that once.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

And Neuvillette remembers, Furina told him that too. Move on from me. Go and live your life Neuvillette. It was her final wish right before she died.

The floodgates break.

“Okay,” Neuvillette relents. “Okay. I promise.”

Morax softly gasps, then smiles. And as if a switch goes off, he is back to his normal wise self and starts waxing poetica.

“When you start your journey, and after it comes to an end, I’ll be waiting. We’ll be waiting.” He holds out a shaky hand. “Old enemy, carry on my memory, won’t you?”

Neuvillette stares at it then grasps at his last connection to the old world.

“I will. I’ll see you on the other side.”

—

“Please let Ms. Yanfei inside Lillia.”

“Yes Monsieur!”

This time Neuvillette made sure that he wasn’t late to this appointment with Yanfei. It has been two months since her last visit, and it is going to be a while until she came back to Fontaine. Her next stop, after a brief stay in Liyue, was going to be Inazuma. She has finally taken up Aratakki Law’s job offer. A law professor on the history of legal code, a perfect fit for an adepti over five centuries old.

Yanfei slowly opened the door. Today she was in a matching green jacket and dress pants. With her is a small pink suitcase. “Hello Monsieur.”

“Yanfei.” Neuvillette stands up to greet her. “Care for coffee?”

Yanfei smiles. “Absolutely.”

“Pardon me for saying this so late,” Neuvillette clears his throat as a pinkish blush starts to heat his face. “I owe you an apology.”

“For what? If I may inquire.” Her reply is full of her signature sarcasm and spunk. Neuvillette smiles at that—some things never change.

“Your handling of the Mourrain Lepin case, it was perfect,” he explains. “I made the wrong judgment.”

Yanfei waves her hand.

“Water under the bridge.”

“I am being serious. Forgive me, I am not as integrated with emotions as you. I was rude and neglectful.”

Yanfei looks perplexed at his sudden concern. Neuvillette knows that is something he will have to change. He needs to be a better person.

But to her credit, Yanfei only looked confused for a moment.

“With this coffee? Of course not.” She jokes to lighten the mood.

“You’ve certainly decided to get rid of the formalities.”

“What can I say? The thought of going back home for Lantern Rite has made me a little more relaxed. You have also had a change of heart.”

“Yes,” Neuvillette agrees. Then, a idea pops into his mind. “By any chance Yanfei, would you mind if I joined in your festivities?”

“E-excuse me?” It is Yanfei’s turn to blush.

“Sorry if I was being a little forward…”

“No not at all! It’s just, I’ve never heard of you leaving Fontaine before.” She quickly scuttles over and gestures for Neuvillette to lean down. “Are you not cursed?” she whispers into his ear.

Neuvillette has to blink at that…ridiculous notion.

“No,” he says, dumbfounded. “I just, never saw merit in leaving my work.” Mortals are funny creatures, aren’t they?

Yanfei is still suspicious. She narrows her eyes as if she is in a courtroom. “Why now then?”

“Well, it’s the year of the dragon,” Neuvillette says simply. “I would like to pay some respects,” he clarifies.

“To whom?”

Eyes the color of the sun flash in his memories and for the first time—in such a long time—a genuine grin breaks across Neuvillette’s face.

“My oldest enemy.”