A star in the storm | Neuvillette x reader
Pairings: Neuvillette x GN!fontainian!reader
tags: angst, pining, tooth rotting fluff
Spoilers for the main archon quest of Fontaine!
The tide lapped softly at your ankles, the gentle waves weaving patterns in the sand like a soothing lullaby. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and lavender. You sat there, where the sea kissed the shore, your gaze fixed on the endless horizon as if searching for something just out of reach.
Behind you, Neuvillette stood silently for a moment, his long coat brushing against the breeze. The Chief Justice of Fontaine, renowned for his unshakable demeanor, found himself hesitating in a way that felt foreign to him. You had asked for his company tonight—a rare request. There was something in the way you spoke of the sea that had stirred an unfamiliar curiosity within him.
Now, as he approached, his lilac eyes softened at the sight of you. The serenity of your posture contrasted with the melancholy in the set of your shoulders. His footsteps on the damp sand were soft, barely disturbing the moment.
"You're quiet tonight," he said, his voice gentle, a deep contrast to the authority it usually carried.
You turned your head, your lips curving into a small, almost wistful smile. "The sea has a way of pulling thoughts out of you, doesn’t it?"
He nodded slowly, following your gaze toward the horizon. The waves rolled in, steady and unrelenting, their rhythm soothing. The sea had always resonated with him—a reminder of his own shifting emotions, calm on the surface but turbulent beneath. Yet tonight, it seemed subdued, almost as if it, too, was waiting.
"I wanted to tell you a story," you said softly, breaking the silence. Drawing your knees up, you wrapped your arms around them, your voice carrying a note of something bittersweet. "About something I saw the night the flood came to Fontaine."
His attention sharpened at your words. The flood—it was a memory he carried like a scar, etched deeply into his being. The weight of the lives lost, the chaos of the waters... and his desperate attempt to hold it all together.
You continued, your voice trembling slightly. "I thought I was going to die that night. The water was rising so quickly, and everywhere was chaos. People running, screaming, searching for safety. It was overwhelming."
Your hands clenched around the fabric of your clothes, and Neuvillette's gaze flickered to them before returning to your face. You were steady now, but he could sense the lingering echo of fear in your words.
"I was swept away," you admitted, your tone quieter now. "And as I struggled, I looked up. And that’s when I saw it."
Neuvillette tilted his head. "Saw what?"
"A star," you said, your expression softening as a glimmer of awe returned to your eyes. "It shot up from the Palais Mémoria, this stunning blue light streaking through the heavens. It was so beautiful. For a moment, I forgot everything—the fear, the flood, all of it. I just stared at that light, thinking, 'If I’m going to die, at least I’ll go with this image burned into my memory.'"
His breath caught in his throat. A blue light... He knew exactly what you were describing. It had been him. The surge of energy he had unleashed in a desperate bid to protect the people of Fontaine, to hold back the waters threatening to swallow them all.
"I don’t know why," you continued, your voice a blend of sadness and wonder, "but that light gave me hope. Even as the waters tried to claim me, even when I thought I’d never see another sunrise... I held on to that sight. It felt like a promise, like a sign that things would be okay. And here I am, alive to tell the tale."
He stared at you, his heart twisting at the sincerity in your words. You had clung to a moment born of his power, of his fear and determination to save Fontaine. You had survived because you believed in something he hadn’t even intended for anyone to see.
"The star..." he began, his voice quiet but resonant, "it wasn’t just a light. It was..." He paused, unsure how much he should reveal. "It was someone's attempt to protect what they cared about most."
You turned your gaze to him, searching his expression. "You speak as if you know," you said softly, your tone laced with curiosity.
He hesitated, then nodded. "I do," he admitted, his words carrying a weight he couldn’t conceal. "And I believe that star would be glad to know it gave you peace."
For a moment, silence settled between you, the waves filling the space with their soothing cadence. Then, tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve.
"Thank you," you whispered, your touch grounding him in a way he didn’t fully understand.
Neuvillette’s hand hovered over yours for a heartbeat before he placed it there, his fingers curling around yours. His touch was careful, as if afraid of breaking the fragile connection between you.
"Thank you," he replied, his voice low, his words carrying the depth of his own unspoken gratitude.
As the first stars appeared in the evening sky, he thought: Thank you for seeing me.
And in the quiet embrace of the shore, the waves seemed to carry the melody of something new—something that had always been there, waiting to be discovered.
The morning after your quiet conversation by the sea, Neuvillette found himself at his desk in the grand expanse of the Palais Mémoria. The familiar weight of responsibility surrounded him: stacks of neatly arranged documents, sealed letters waiting for his review, and the ever-present hum of Fontaine’s legal machinery. But for once, the solemn rhythm of his duties failed to hold his attention.
His thoughts, unruly and persistent, strayed to you. To the way your voice softened when you spoke of the star, your words carrying a blend of awe and vulnerability that stirred something deep within him. To the light in your eyes, a fragile yet resilient glow that seemed to illuminate the darkest parts of the world. To the quiet courage in your voice when you shared the memory of that night—the night of the flood.
He sighed and leaned back, his hands folded in his lap. It wasn’t like him to be so preoccupied, so drawn to fleeting thoughts. He had lived for centuries, had weathered storms both literal and metaphorical, yet this... This was different.
When he saw you again later that day, it was in the bustling marketplace. A soft breeze carried the mingling scents of fresh bread, vibrant spices, and the salt of the distant sea. Among the moving crowd, his gaze found you effortlessly, as if drawn by some unseen force.
You stood at a vendor’s stall, a bouquet of wildflowers cradled in your hands. Your fingertips brushed over the petals with care, and the sunlight framed you in a golden glow. Neuvillette froze for a moment, watching as your head tilted back in laughter—a sound so soft and genuine it seemed to momentarily hush the bustling world around you.
He found himself captivated, his heart betraying him with an unfamiliar ache. It wasn’t the grandeur of your actions that caught him—it was the simplicity. The way you held the flowers as though they were a treasure, the way you exchanged warm words with the vendor, the way the edges of your smile seemed to carry an unspoken kindness.
When you finally turned and saw him, your surprise melted into a warm smile. Raising the bouquet slightly, you waved him over.
“Monsieur Neuvillette,” you called, your voice light and inviting.
He approached, his composure intact but his gaze undeniably soft. “Good afternoon. I trust you’re enjoying the marketplace?”
You nodded enthusiastically, shifting the flowers in your hand. “It’s been so long since I’ve taken the time to wander here. Everything feels so alive today.” You held up the bouquet. “And I couldn’t resist these. Aren’t they lovely?”
“They are,” he replied, his tone gentle, though his focus lingered on you rather than the blooms.
The two of you walked together, your steps naturally falling into sync. The sounds of the marketplace faded into a pleasant hum as you began to speak, sharing the small details of your morning. You spoke of the street performers playing vibrant tunes, of a child chasing after a balloon, of a baker who gifted you a small loaf of bread as thanks for helping pick up scattered ingredients.
Neuvillette listened intently, though it wasn’t your stories themselves that held him captive—it was you. The way your voice rose and fell, the slight lift of your lips when you recounted something amusing, the way you looked at the world with an almost childlike wonder.
For someone who had lived so long, who had seen so much, you made everything feel startlingly new.
When the time came for you to part ways, you turned to him, your bouquet held loosely in your hands. “Thank you for indulging me today, Monsieur Neuvillette. It was nice to have company for a change.”
“The pleasure was mine,” he replied sincerely, dipping his head in farewell.
You smiled again, the kind that lingered even after you turned and walked away. He remained rooted in place for a long moment, his lilac eyes following you as you disappeared into the crowd. The faint scent of wildflowers lingered in the air, a quiet reminder of your presence.
That evening, Neuvillette stood by the window of his chambers, gazing out at the vast sea. The waves rolled gently under the pale light of the moon, their rhythm steady and eternal. Yet his thoughts returned to you—your words, your laughter, the way you had described the star.
How you had unknowingly described him.
He wondered what you would say if you knew the truth. Would it matter to you that the light you cherished, the star that had given you hope, had come from him?
For centuries, he had existed as a symbol—of justice, of power, of Fontaine itself. Yet in your presence, he felt less like an untouchable figure and more like... himself. The man behind the title. The person you had unknowingly reached.
As the waves whispered their endless melody, he allowed himself a small smile. You had unknowingly begun to bridge a gap he hadn’t even realized existed. And as your laughter echoed faintly in his memory, he found himself wondering—perhaps for the first time—what it would mean to love someone, not as a protector or a symbol, but simply as Neuvillette.
Neuvillette found Furina seated quietly in the palace gardens, her usual flamboyance subdued under the soft, golden hues of a Fontaine sunset. The tranquil koi pond before her reflected the changing colors of the sky, rippling gently as a breeze played across its surface. For once, Furina wasn’t holding court or dramatizing her every word—she simply sat, her hands resting on her lap, her gaze distant and thoughtful.
“Lady Furina,” Neuvillette greeted, his voice calm and steady as he approached.
She turned her head toward him, her usual theatrics absent. Instead, her expression was tired but softened by the quiet ambiance of the gardens. “Monsieur Neuvillette,” she replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Come to check on me again?”
“I’ve noticed you’ve been spending more time alone,” he said carefully. “I thought perhaps you might appreciate some company.”
Her brow arched slightly, though the gesture lacked its usual flair. “How considerate of you. I didn’t think the great Iudex of Fontaine made time for garden strolls.”
He allowed himself a small smile. “I believe even the busiest among us must make time to reflect. Shall we walk?”
Furina hesitated, her hands twitching slightly before she stood with a soft sigh. “Very well,” she said, smoothing the folds of her gown. “Lead the way, Monsieur Neuvillette.”
They walked along the gravel paths, the serene quiet of the garden broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets. Flowers in full bloom lined their path, their delicate scents mingling with the cool, crisp evening air. Neuvillette’s sharp eyes caught the occasional tension in Furina’s movements—the subtle way her fingers played with the hem of her sleeve, the furrow in her brow as if she were wrestling with unspoken thoughts.
“How have you been feeling?” he asked, his tone warm yet measured.
Furina’s steps faltered for the briefest moment. “Better,” she said after a pause, though her voice held a guarded quality. “I mean… I’m trying.”
He nodded, matching her unhurried pace. “That is good to hear. You’ve been through much lately, and it’s only natural to need time.”
She looked away, her fingers tightening on her sleeve before she spoke again, quieter this time. “It helps to have someone.”
That gave him pause. He glanced at her, his curiosity piqued. “Someone?”
Furina nodded, her expression softening. “Yes. Someone who checks on me, listens, makes sure I’m not completely drowning in my own thoughts.”
Relief flickered in his chest, though he kept his tone even. “I am glad you have such support. It is… a comfort, I hope.”
“Oh, more than a comfort,” Furina said, her voice lifting slightly. Her usual theatrical energy flickered to life as a playful smirk crossed her face. “And you’ll be even more pleased when you hear who it is.”
Neuvillette tilted his head, his lilac eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. “And who might that be?”
She stopped walking abruptly, turning to face him with a grin that could only mean mischief. “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
“I assure you, I do not,” he replied cautiously, though his mind immediately conjured a face—your face.
Furina rolled her eyes dramatically, placing her hands on her hips. “Oh, come now, Monsieur Neuvillette. Don’t pretend to be dense. It’s them—the one you’ve been hopelessly mooning over for weeks.”
The effect of her words was immediate. Neuvillette’s usually composed demeanor cracked, a faint blush coloring his pale cheeks. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a rare loss for words.
“Speechless?” Furina teased, clearly reveling in his discomfort. “The mighty Iudex of Fontaine, reduced to silence? Truly a sight to behold.”
Neuvillette looked away, his hand brushing absently against the edge of his coat as he composed himself. “I merely… appreciate their kindness toward you,” he said carefully.
“‘Kindness,’” Furina echoed, feigning exasperation. “You’re blushing like a lovesick poet, and that’s all you can say? Please, Neuvillette, you’re not fooling anyone. Admit it—you’re completely smitten.”
His shoulders tensed, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You are relentless, Lady Furina.”
“And you’re predictable,” she shot back, though her tone carried a rare note of sincerity. “But really, Neuvillette… isn’t it time you let yourself have this? You’ve spent so long carrying the weight of Fontaine on your shoulders. Don’t you think you deserve a little happiness for yourself?”
Her words struck a chord deep within him. For centuries, Neuvillette had devoted himself entirely to Fontaine, his duty consuming every aspect of his existence. He had never allowed himself to entertain personal desires or affections, yet the thought of you—your laughter, your kindness, the way you seemed to see through his reserved exterior—had become an undeniable presence in his mind.
“You seem more like yourself today,” he observed quietly, deflecting her teasing as he studied her with a soft gaze.
Furina’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Maybe that’s thanks to them,” she admitted, her voice quieter. “They don’t just help. They care. It’s… nice, having someone like that around.”
Neuvillette felt his chest tighten at the thought of you. The way you had extended your compassion not only to him but to Furina as well, asking for nothing in return, had touched him more deeply than he could express.
Furina’s teasing tone broke through his reverie. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
He frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Do about it?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Are you just going to stand there brooding forever, or are you actually going to tell them how you feel?”
He sighed, though his faint smile lingered. “Perhaps I will.”
Furina’s grin widened, a glimmer of satisfaction lighting her eyes. “Now that is something I’d like to see.”
As they resumed their walk, Neuvillette found himself mulling over her words. The garden’s tranquil beauty seemed to reflect the quiet hope stirring within him. For the first time in centuries, he allowed himself to consider the possibility of stepping out from behind the mantle of the Iudex—not as a protector or symbol, but simply as Neuvillette.
The Melusines had always been an observant presence in Fontaine, blending seamlessly into the fabric of daily life while quietly noting the shifts in the moods of its people. They held a special fondness for Neuvillette, their beloved protector, whose wisdom and kindness earned their undying loyalty. But lately, they had noticed something peculiar—a softening in his usually stoic expression, a wistful look in his eyes whenever a certain someone was brought up in conversation.
To them, it was as clear as the glistening waters of the sea: the Iudex was smitten. And so, a plan began to take shape.
Neuvillette was seated at his desk in the Palais Mémoria, immersed in his usual workload, when Melly, one of the more spirited Melusines, appeared. She tugged insistently at his sleeve, her small face glowing with excitement.
“Monsieur Neuvillette, you have to come! It’s really, really important!” she exclaimed, her shimmering eyes wide with urgency.
He glanced down at her, arching a pale brow. “Is there some manner of trouble?”
“Not trouble,” Melly replied with a grin that hinted at mischief. “Just… something you shouldn’t miss!”
Her insistence was so earnest, so determined, that Neuvillette found himself setting aside his papers. With a resigned sigh, he followed her, his long strides effortlessly keeping up with her eager skips. She led him through winding streets and quiet alleys, until they emerged at a secluded garden path near the edge of the city.
Standing there, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, was you. You stood with your arms loosely crossed, gazing at the sky, your expression contemplative. The breeze caught a few strands of your hair, and the sight stirred something deep within him—something he could neither name nor ignore.
You turned at the sound of footsteps, and upon seeing him, your face lit up with a warm, genuine smile. “Monsieur Neuvillette.”
“Melly,” he said with a sigh, glancing at the Melusine, who was now beaming with unrestrained glee. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Oh, nothing!” Melly said innocently, though her tail swished with uncontained amusement. “You two just looked like you needed a walk. Bye!” And before either of you could respond, she darted off, leaving only her giggles trailing behind.
Neuvillette cleared his throat, slightly flustered. “I apologize. It seems our friends have… orchestrated this encounter.”
You laughed softly, your voice carrying a lightness that instantly eased his embarrassment. “I don’t mind. They mean well.”
“Indeed, they do,” he agreed, his tone softening. “Shall we, then?”
You nodded, and the two of you began walking along the path, the garden alive with the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of crickets. The path eventually opened up to a quiet stretch of beach, where the sea stretched out endlessly before you, its waves glowing with the warm hues of twilight.
You slipped off your shoes without hesitation, stepping into the cool, lapping water with an ease that made him pause. There was something inherently captivating about your unguarded joy, the way you seemed to embrace the moment so freely.
“Come on,” you called, glancing back at him with a teasing smile. “It’s just water.”
He remained rooted on the dry sand, his composed demeanor unshaken, though a faint smile played at his lips. “I am content to observe.”
“Suit yourself,” you said with a light laugh, turning your attention back to the waves. Your movements were unhurried, your bare feet leaving faint imprints that the sea quickly washed away. As you wandered, you began to speak, your voice carrying over the gentle rhythm of the tide.
“I’ve always loved the sea,” you admitted, your gaze fixed on the horizon. “There’s something comforting about it. No matter how wild or stormy it gets, it always returns to this—calm, steady, constant.”
Neuvillette stayed silent, content to listen. You spoke of childhood memories, of collecting seashells and listening to the ocean’s lullabies. You spoke of the peculiarities of Fontaine’s city life, the little joys you found in its vibrant chaos. Each word seemed to weave a story, and he found himself utterly captivated—not just by your words, but by the light in your eyes, the way you seemed to find beauty in the smallest things.
After a while, you turned back to him, a hint of shyness in your expression. “You’re awfully quiet, Monsieur Neuvillette. I hope I’m not boring you.”
“Not at all,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. “Your thoughts are… calming.”
Your cheeks tinged with a faint blush, and you smiled. “That’s kind of you to say.”
As twilight deepened, the two of you wandered side by side, the world shrinking to the space you shared. For Neuvillette, time seemed to slow, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily forgotten. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so wholly present, so at peace.
Eventually, you paused, your gaze fixed on the shimmering horizon. “Thank you for walking with me,” you said softly. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he replied, his tone scarcely above a whisper.
When you turned to face him, your eyes held his for a moment longer than expected. In them, he saw not just kindness, but an understanding that warmed something deep within him—something that had long been dormant.
From the distance, a familiar giggle drifted on the breeze. Neuvillette glanced toward the garden, catching sight of Melly peeking out from behind a bush, her small hands clasped together in triumph.
A faint chuckle escaped him, and he looked back at you. “It seems the Melusines’ intentions were pure, after all.”
“They’re smarter than they let on,” you said with a smile, your gaze softening.
“They are,” he agreed, his voice tinged with quiet affection.
The waves continued their endless dance, the world around you fading into the background. And for the first time in centuries, Neuvillette allowed himself to believe in something beyond duty—a quiet, unspoken hope that perhaps, amidst the vastness of the sea and the ceaseless flow of time, he had found a moment worth holding on to.
The courtyard was alive with warmth and laughter, sunlight cascading over the cobblestones as Fontaine enjoyed a rare, perfect afternoon. Neuvillette walked with measured grace toward the Palais Mémoria, his thoughts preoccupied with the endless responsibilities awaiting him. Yet his steps faltered when his gaze landed on a scene by the fountain.
The golden light seemed to frame you in an otherworldly glow, your expression alight with joy. The sight would have been enough to steal his breath, but it wasn’t him you were smiling at.
A man stood beside you—confident, charming, he gestures animated as he spoke. Whatever he said must have been clever, because it drew a laugh from you, bright and unrestrained, a sound that struck something deep within Neuvillette.
He froze, his chest tightening as he watched the exchange. The other man handed you a small bouquet of flowers. You accepted it with a faint blush, your smile softening in gratitude.
Neuvillette turned sharply and walked away, his steps brisk, his heart aching with a feeling he couldn’t name—or rather, wouldn’t. Overhead, the clouds began to gather, the sunlight dimming as rain started to fall.
The rain didn’t stop for days.
Fontaine’s usual soft drizzles gave way to an unyielding downpour, mirrored the turbulence in its Iudex’s heart. Neuvillette secluded himself in his office, his desk untouched, his mind elsewhere. The rhythmic patter of rain against the windows offered no solace, only amplifying the echoes of his thoughts.
The image of your laughter haunted him, as did the warmth in your eyes when you looked at someone else. He had always cherished you from afar, his devotion silent and steadfast. Yet now, faced with the prospect of someone else claiming the closeness he had yearned for, he was left adrift, the storm within him unrelenting.
He didn’t expect the soft knock on his door, nor the familiar sound of your voice calling his name.
His head snapped up, his heart quickening at the sight of you stepping into the room. You approached with careful steps, concern evident in your gaze.
“I’ve been looking for you,” you said gently. “You’ve been missed.”
He averted his eyes, unwilling to meet your gaze. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself,” he murmured. “I am fine.”
But your expression told him you weren’t convinced. You crossed the room, stopping just in front of his desk. When he didn’t look up, you moved to his side, crouching so you were level with him.
“Neuvillette,” you said softly, your tone as steady as it was kind. “What’s wrong?”
His hands, folded tightly in his lap, clenched further. “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice low.
You frowned, undeterred. Carefully, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his temple before cupping his face. The tenderness of the gesture made him flinch, though he didn’t pull away.
“Please,” you urged. “Tell me.”
The quiet plea unraveled him. His composure cracked, the emotions he’d fought to suppress spilling forth. “It hurt,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Seeing you… with him.”
Your brows furrowed in confusion, and then understanding dawned. “Jaques?”
He nodded, his gaze falling to the floor. “I thought I could be content simply protecting you, watching over you from afar. But seeing you with someone else…” He trailed off, the words catching in his throat.
The rain outside seemed to intensify, as if mirroring the turmoil inside him.
“Neuvillette,” you said softly, your voice filled with something he couldn’t quite name. “You don’t need to hold back with me.”
He shook his head. “You deserve happiness, and I… I am hardly what you need.”
Your expression softened, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” you said firmly. “Do you really think anyone else has made me feel as safe, as cared for, as you have?”
His eyes lifted to meet yours, uncertainty and hope warring within him. “But… I saw you smiling—”
“Because they were kind,” you interrupted gently. “But kindness alone doesn’t mean they’re the one I care for.”
The storm inside him stilled, your words cutting through the maelstrom like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Do you mean that?”
“I do,” you said simply. “It’s you, Neuvillette. It’s always been you.”
The rain outside softened, its intensity fading as if the heavens themselves sighed in relief. Slowly, hesitantly, Neuvillette raised his hands to cover yours, his larger palms enveloping your touch.
“I never thought…” He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion.
“You don’t have to think,” you said, a small laugh escaping you. “Just feel.”
The quiet encouragement shattered the last of his defenses. Carefully, reverently, he leaned forward, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “May I?” he asked, his voice unsteady. “May I kiss you?”
Your smile widened, your hand moving to gently brush a stray strand of silver hair from his face. “You never have to ask.”
His breath caught at your words, and then he closed the distance. The kiss was slow, tender, unhurried. It was a melding of unspoken emotions, a quiet confession of all the feelings he had buried for so long.
When he finally pulled back, his gaze met yours, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he smiled—soft, genuine, unguarded.
“You’re remarkable,” he whispered, his voice laced with awe.
“And you,” you replied, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, “are everything I needed, even if I didn’t realize it at first.”
Outside, the rain had stopped entirely, the world washed clean and renewed. In the quiet of his office, Neuvillette held you close, his heart no longer heavy but light, full of a hope he hadn’t dared to believe in before.
And for the first time, he allowed himself to embrace the possibility of happiness—not as the Iudex of Fontaine, but as a man who had found a place for his heart.
