A Wriothesley X Reader Fic.
"If you knew what happened in the last 10 years of me waiting for you, what would've you done differently, Wriothesley?"
You woke up one day, dragged into the Court of Fontaine, for a crime that you didn't commit. The tri...
Wriothesley's memories burst in, reminding him of the past that they used to have. The ways they'd check over Wriothesley for scars while Wriothesley was too busy playing games with Celestia; their fates intertwined in a complex yet complementary manner. Wriothesley mulls over all of what they said. 'What does he mean by all of that? Used to hold you with?' His reaction, somewhat confused and surprised by that comment. W: "What... what do you mean?"
They stayed silent, silent in a verbal way. Yet the coldness of the water surrounding them, that encased them in this cage, showed weakness to the man that they once were. Their shivering and silent cries didn't help them to be higher than what Wriothesley thought they'd be. They'd become nothing but a shadow of the boy that they once were; happy and courageous; limitless and adventurous; manic and outrageous. Fleeting was the time in the prison, no sunlight nor sunsets, just the brown rust-worn metal all over them; machineries and pipes of every kind, small and big. When will the torturous paces end? For them, they didn't know anymore, the disparity between despair and hope is a mere bridge between life and death. For life meant him; now life without him, meant what for?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Wriothesley's thinking kept him uneasy. Pacing back and forth behind them definitely did not help pick up the pieces that they once had. They're a clean slate, yet Wriothesley could still see the original places of the pieces of the puzzle; by the leftover grime and glue that once held them together. He now sees what they meant by 'not murdering' someone, as this loser of an excuse of a human wouldn't be able to fight back against him, let alone kill someone in front of hundreds to see. The mugshots in his mind seemed all so fake, it was all too convenient. And to add that one would've known that they were once a crook; he felt the sharp edges of the 'murderer' puzzle don't seem to fit the pieces for the round connectors of the person he once connected with through the streets of the same crime scene they supposedly 'murdered' someone in. W: "You didn't murder anyone, did you?" Finally, he broke the silence that was building up. It was like his castles were crumbling, succumbing to a prisoner that seemed lost and confused. Succumbing to a friend that didn't belong here.
_: "You're a lost cause, how many times will I repeat that I didn't... I did not murder anyone." They stare down at Wrio, who's sitting to their left... _: "No matter how I try to remember everything, I couldn't because I didn't do it..." They plead in a desperate manner as if they're crying for help.
Wriothesley sighs, he couldn't see him as the murderer. Yet there are countless witnesses who could disprove that. He didn't know how to process everything, so the best thing he could do was to comfort him through all this. His arm wrapped around the other and then he pushed his body towards him.
They couldn't muster anything up in their mind. It's filled with thoughts of a cynical society, so unaccepting and unwelcoming to his kind. But then, as they were deep in thought, Wriothesley leans towards them and he hums lightly, a tune he's oh so familiar with. _: "What are you doing?" They asked. What was he doing, humming something from their childhood? Was he trying to play with their memories? What were his ulterior motives?
