Hey there! First time posting, I wish we can get along!😊
The soft patter of rain against the glass dome of the Opera Epiclese mirrored the quiet ache in your heart. You sat by the window in Nuevillette’s private quarters, watching Fontaine’s waters ripple under the gray skies. The city had always been beautiful, even on rainy days like this. But today, even the gleam of the aquabus lights couldn’t reach the heavy feeling sitting in your chest.
You tried not to dwell on it. Nuevillette was the Chief Justice of Fontaine—his responsibilities weighed heavily on his shoulders. But still, today was your anniversary. Not just any anniversary. Your fifth. A day that marked the years of love, struggle, laughter, and moments only the two of you shared.
And yet, all morning he had barely spared you a glance. No “good morning, my love.” No gentle kiss to your forehead. He had left early with no explanation, and when you tried to reach him through the Melusines or assistants, they all said the same thing:
“The Chief Justice is occupied.”
You tried to keep busy. Tried to remind yourself that love wasn’t always grand gestures. But the hurt was there. A quiet, blooming disappointment that wrapped around your heart like seaweed in deep water.
By midafternoon, you gave up waiting. You went home. Alone.
A soft knock at the door.
Confused, you rose from your place and opened it.
There stood Neuvillette. Elegant as always in his formal robes, though now undone at the collar. His hair, typically pristine, was slightly tousled from the wind. He held a small bouquet of dew-kissed lilacs—your favorite. His eyes, that deep and endless purple, held a softness you hadn't seen all day.
“…My dearest,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry I made you wait.”
You stared at him, unsure whether to cry or laugh. “You… you remembered?”
His expression faltered just for a second—a flicker of guilt there in his usually unreadable face. He stepped forward, holding the flowers out to you. “Of course I did. I could never forget something as important as you.”
Your throat tightened. “Then why did you ignore me all day…?”
He stepped closer, slipping his hand into yours gently. His tail swayed low behind him, as if mirroring his remorse. “Because I wanted it to be perfect. And if I told you… it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
He raised your hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against your knuckles.
“I made arrangements. Reservations. I even coordinated with the Melusines to ensure there’d be no disturbances.” He looked at you, voice lower now. “I wanted to take you somewhere special tonight.”
You blinked back tears. “You… you really went that far?”
A soft hum. “I would go further, if it meant seeing you smile again.”
Then, he stepped aside and gestured down the corridor.
“Come. Your carriage awaits.”
The ride was smooth, guided by an elegant aquabus carved with gold leaf and opal inlay. It took you far beyond the city’s central courts, out toward the hidden edge of the region—where waterfalls met ocean cliffs and rainbow sprays danced in the air.
There, nestled within a secluded cove, was a crystalline dome surrounded by bioluminescent flowers and flickering lanterns. Inside: a table for two beneath a ceiling of glass, where stars would soon shine above you.
He helped you step out, offering his hand like a prince in a storybook. “A place only the Iudex is permitted to access. I pulled many strings.”
You turned to look at him, awash in emotion. “Why all this?”
And he said—so simply it broke you—“Because I wanted you to know that I see you. Not just today, but always.”
Dinner was quiet laughter, soft smiles, glances that lingered. You ate under the stars. He poured your wine himself. He tucked your hair behind your ear when the wind swept it loose. He spoke less than usual, but every word was weighty, full of love.
When dessert came—crème fondante with violet syrup—he stood and pulled something from his pocket.
But inside… was not a ring. It was a necklace. A single tear-shaped pearl suspended from silver, glowing with hydro energy.
“I had it made from the droplet at the tip of my own tail,” he said softly. “It is part of me. Just like you are.”
You touched the pearl gently, your hands trembling. “It’s beautiful…”
He stepped behind you, clasping it gently around your neck. And as his hands lingered on your shoulders, he bent low and whispered into your ear:
“Happy anniversary, my heart.”
You turned and wrapped your arms around him tightly, pressing your face into his chest. He held you close—longer than he usually allowed himself to. His tail curled around your waist, slow and deliberate, until the sharp droplet tip rested just at your stomach.
“I thought you forgot,” you murmured.
“I never would,” he said, lips in your hair. “But if ever I make you feel that way again… remind me, and I will move the sea for you.”
And under the stars, in the quiet secret heart of Fontaine, the Chief Justice—stoic, composed, unreadable to the world—smiled softly.
