Into the Depths

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1: 𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓮

The moon hung low over Fontaine, casting its cold light on the flowing rivers and the grandiose stone structures of the city. Wriothesley stood atop his prison fortress, gazing out at the dark horizon. The cool night air bit at his skin, but it did little to bother him. The weight of his duties was always heavier than the cold winds of his domain.

From a distance, he could see the distant glint of light on the surface of the water, where the grand statues of Fontaine stood, reminding him of a city on the precipice of change. It was then that he felt the unmistakable presence—a calm yet commanding presence, like water itself.

"You're still here?" Neuvillette's voice broke through the silence, smooth like velvet yet firm as granite.

Wriothesley turned to see the Hydro Archon standing before him, dressed in his usual regal attire. His eyes, pale and unflinching, met Wriothesley's with a mix of curiosity and caution. Their gazes locked, and for a moment, something unspoken lingered between them.

"I could ask you the same thing, Neuvillette,"

Wriothesley replied, his voice low and steady.

"Aren't you needed in the courts tonight?"

Neuvillette stepped closer, his every movement like water—fluid, graceful, yet unyielding.

"A few moments alone won't hurt. Besides, the court can wait."

His gaze flickered to Wriothesley's face, lingering for a heartbeat too long.

"I thought you of all people would know that."

The unspoken tension between them thickened, and Wriothesley felt an unusual tightness in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time Neuvillette had lingered in his presence this long, or looked at him this way. Usually, their interactions were cold, transactional—this was something different.

Wriothesley felt the heat of his own pulse as he let out a sharp breath.

"Why are you here, really?"

Neuvillette smiled, though it was a quiet, knowing smile.

"Isn't it obvious?"

He took another step closer, close enough that Wriothesley could almost feel the heat radiating off him.

"I came to see you."

The tension between them was palpable, like an invisible thread drawn taut. As Wriothesley and Neuvillette stood in the quiet of the night, neither seemed willing to break the silence that hung heavily between them. Neuvillette, usually so composed, seemed to struggle with the words.

"I've been thinking about what you said,"

Neuvillette finally said, his voice soft yet piercing.

"About the trials Fontaine faces... The pressure of justice, and the burden we bear. But we can't carry it all, can we?"

Wriothesley's heart skipped a beat. Neuvillette's words always seemed to cut through him, stirring something deep within. He had always been the stoic one, the one who hid his emotions behind a mask of ice and steel. But when it came to Neuvillette, he found it harder to keep up the facade.

"You're right."

Wriothesley replied, his voice almost a whisper.

"We can't carry it all. But we must try, even if it tears us apart."

Neuvillette's eyes softened, his gaze no longer distant, but focused—intense. He reached out, almost hesitating before his fingers brushed lightly against Wriothesley's hand. The touch sent a jolt through Wriothesley's chest, and he stiffened, though he didn't pull away. It was like fire meeting ice—a dangerous yet magnetic pull.

"Perhaps."

Neuvillette murmured, his hand lingering for a moment longer before withdrawing.

"But there is no shame in sharing the weight."

Their eyes met again, and the silence that followed was heavy with meaning. Neither said more, but the words were clear enough in the space between them.