The Recognizable Pattern Of A Waltz / Neuvillette

the recognizable pattern of a waltz / neuvillette

summary: the annual fontaine masquerade ball has arrived and the city is in a frenzy. it had been revealed by reporter charlotte that monsieur neuvillette is intending to start searching for a partner, and everyone wants a chance to dance with him. and yet, he falls for the person who feels least interested in dancing.

pairing: neuvillette x male!reader

a link to the playlist i created for this fic is here

The news had been plastered on every morning edition of the Steambird. The ladies and gentlemen were bustling with the news. Monsieur Neuvillette was searching for a partner! How had Charlotte gotten it out of him? No matter what she had, it was the biggest story Fontaine had seen since the water levels receded. And that was almost a year ago now. The world had moved on and kept turning as the Traveler had turned their eyes away from the nation of Hydro and focused on their next destination. You had seen them off the day they set out for Natlan, sharing tear-stained hugs and gentle words of encouragement. Their journey was more than halfway over, and they would be leaving Teyvat soon if all went well. The best goodbyes hurt the most.

Now that Fonatainians had been absolved of their sins, the world had returned to normal. As normal as it could get, anyway. The bakery you ran was flowing with traffic since Charlotte had interviewed the heroes of Fontaine. Your pastries sold out in less than three hours, and patrons nursed hand-crafted mugs of steaming tea under their noses. The life you'd always dreamed of.

"Have you heard the news?" A new patron asked, a fan hiding the bottom half of her face. When you shrugged, she chuckled. You heard. Every eligible person in Fontaine was talking about it.

"Monsieur Neuvillette is searching for a partner!" She almost squealed as you fiddled with your new invention. An espresso machine for brewing drinks that energize. The beans, shipped from Natlan, were a new delicacy Fontaine hadn't been ready for. And you were the only shop in the nation to sell it. A smart move.

"How exciting," you mused. "The usual, Celine?" You were too tired to deal with mindless gossip this early in the morning.

"Oh, yes! Thank you!" You exchanged Mora for a drink, and Celina tittered away like a bird that had just learned to fly. You smiled after her as you let the frothier spray steam. The scent of coffee and tea filled your nose. The smell you could die surrounded by. The way it clouded the mind and made it hazy, yet made your heart pound.

Others might call you crazy, but you believe that the perfect drink could solve any temporary problem. Your theory has yet to be proven wrong.

"If you keep staring at the windows, they'll explode," a voice called from the entrance. You turned your head up, and smiled at who'd entered your cafe.

"Clorinde, I was beginning to wonder if you'd darken my door," your tone was all tease, no malice. The duelist rolled her eyes as she stepped into the cafe proper. A door led to a fine patio that you had built from scratch, with some help from the Traveler and Paimon. Plants spilled off railings, and beautiful wooden tables soaked up the sunlight. It was full, bustling with the sounds of life.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," she chided. "I'm your favourite customer, and we know it." You made a face, pretending to think about it.

"Navia leaves generous tips," you teased, but a single glare from the champion was enough to change your tune. "Okay, okay, you're my favourite." The smile returned to Clorinde's face.

"Your usual? Or are you trying something new?" You asked. Clorinde was a pioneer in creating new drinks and catapulted many famed beverages like Romaritime lattes and rainbow rose tea to success. You owe her your originality, it is far too difficult to be innovative on your own.

"I'll have a black coffee, one sugar, please."

"Didn't sleep well?" You asked as your hands worked through motions you'd done hundreds of times. You could do it with your eyes closed, if you tried really hard. You'd never try, in the interest of not embarrassing yourself in front of paying customers.

"You could say that," she grumbled as you slid the mug across the counter to her awaiting hands.

"Tell me, are you going to the ball?" You groaned.

"Oh, no, not you, too! I swear, that's all everyone talks about!" Clorinde raised her brow at your small outburst. "What about it?"

"I'm being forced to go. Even Wriothesley is attending. It would feel wrong for you not to be present." You smiled at her words. After all this time, the friends you had made when the Traveler stepped onto Fonatainian soil had not abandoned you, as you'd expected them to. People still manage to surprise you.

"What's in it for me?" You asked. You hated social gatherings. All those strangers, all those voices. Too much of everything. For you to go, it had to be worth it.

"I heard rumours that the Palais was looking to cater their next annual meeting, I could put in a good word," Clorinde stated.

"As if Neuvillette wasn't already going to request me?" Your bakery was the only one he trusted the Melusines to go to, and had tried every item to see that it was to their liking. You'd even created a Melusine line of products, perfect for the tastes of the angels of Fontaine.

"I'll owe you a favour." Your brows rose.

"A favour, hm? I couldn't possibly pass that up!" Clorinde rolled her eyes.

"Meet me at the Opera Epiclise at 7 o'clock sharp," she instructed before turning her back on you and strutting out of the cafe.

You sighed and placed your chin on your palms and breathed out. Suddenly, your back straightened.

You needed a suit.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. Music poured out of the front doors, a tantalizing melody that spoke of love and heartbreak. Your suit, freshly tailored by Chiori, had bled your savings dry. Clorinde owes you for this. But, on the bright side, you had a new suit. It fits you perfectly. You'd have to close the shop five hours early to get a suit fitted in time. Luckily, most attendees had organized their outfits weeks in advance, and none were stupid enough to get it done so last minute.

No one except you, that is.

Either way, despite the tuts of annoyance from your tailor friend, you've been fitted to perfection. She'd even done your hair, something she didn't charge extra for.

The large clock in the lobby read 7 o'clock, and you had just made it inside. You spotted Clorinde, Wriothesley, Navia, and Furina milling about by the table you'd curated. Your bakery had been chosen to cater. Many long nights had made such a thing possible. Furina, the dessert lover she was, had two slices of cake in her hands. She spotted you and waved you over with a chocolate lava cake. You didn't hesitate to trot across the room to your companions.

"You came?" Clorinde sounded surprised.

"Couldn't resist holding something over your head," you replied.

"Ah, so that's how she got you to come," Wriothesley mused with a cross of his arms.

"She was very compelling," you shot back.

"I'm so glad you're here! Parties aren't the same without you!" Navia leaned against your arm and beamed up at you.

"Hello Navia," you hummed.

"Is it true that you made all of these desserts?" Furina asked with joy in her eyes. Aside from Clorinde, Furina spent most of her time in your bakery. You had offered her a job, but she refused. Being paid with sweets was enough for the previous Hydro archon. You just hoped word didn't get back to Neuvillette that you were approving unpaid labour.

"Although my social life withers, I did." You'd barely spoken to living humans during that time. Too busy with flour-coated hands and cramps in your legs from working until the sun rose. But the payoff is worth the hit to your sleep schedule. Who needs to sleep when you have coffee?

"You should have let me help you!" Furina raised her voice. No one glanced, far too used to their previous Archon's outbursts.

"It's alright, it was a lot of work, and I technically don't pay you, remember? It's illegal." Furina huffed.

"Oh please, I'm the previous Hydro Archon, I'm sure he'd let it slide." There was no need to ask who the “he” was. The Iudex was fond of the Archon, in how a brother cared for a sister. He’d never let someone take advantage of her, even if that someone was you. Fair to a fault. Or something of the like.

"The fact that you're the previous Archon is why I didn't want you to work," you shot back with a grin. Before the Traveler arrived, you'd thought Furina was pompous and childish, and her voice annoyed you. But, upon learning the true nature of her existence, you'd come to see through the five-hundred-year facade. You considered yourself one of her closest confidants, hoping she thought the same of you. You'd always been told that making friends as an adult was easy, but you'd suffered until recently. Owning a business didn't leave room for socializing.

"You're no fun!" The Archon whined. You only shook your head.

Guests whirled past you in blurs of blues, pinks, reds, and golds. The chandelier overhead sparkled in the reflection of the floor. You'd never had a reason to come to the Opera Epiclese, you'd never been interested in trials until the Traveler came along. Now, justice felt like it meant something. Fontaine was changing for the better.

"I'd love to dance," Navia swooned as the violins changed to an upbeat waltz. The steady thump of a snare echoed through the hall as members of the hive mind of the elite took to the floor with steps they'd been forced to memorize since birth.

"Then join me," Clorinde offered with a gentle smile. Navia took Clorinde's hand gently, like a scene out of a fairytale. The pair pushed into the crowd and vanished among the sea of smiles.

Slowly, though you wished you hadn't noticed, your friends moved away. Either to the floor or to mingle with others whom they hadn't seen for some time. Even Wrio got on the floor, struggling to teach Sigewinne to dance without stepping on his feet.

You've never been one for dancing. Most of your friends knew. They'd learned to stop asking you to join them months ago. Instead, you'd sit near your pastries and exchange pleasantries with people you knew. Then you'd go home and the night would be over. You'd return to reality, and never regret that you hadn't danced.

"You came," a hopeful voice spoke up from your right. Monsieur Neuvillette. You expected to see him, at some point, only briefly. You didn't think he'd scope you out. This masquerade was thrown in his honour; at least, partially. The Dragon that saved Fontaine from the great flood. He was a hero, just as much as the Traveler. And although people didn't know what to make of his status as Sovereign, they left room for him.

"Why does everyone seem surprised?" You asked. "Am I that much of a shut-in?" You knew what people thought of you. The talented baker who worked too much. And that was fine. You had your friends. Not everyone needed to know you properly, you had enough that did.

"You know that's not what I meant," Neuvillette whispered.

"I wanted to see what the fuss was about," you replied. That was partially true. Maybe you were swept up in the whispers. Neuvillette was searching for a partner. You wanted to see the fairytale unfold before you, as a bystander. Maybe your business would flourish from their union. More customers would be a good thing. You could afford to hire your first employee if everything went well tonight.

"Does it live up to your expectations?" Neuvillette asked as he took another pastry into his hand. He always treated your creations with a gentleness you'd never seen. Like every bite was precious.

"I'm disappointed by the lack of wine throwing, I was promised at least one public outing of an affair." Neuvillette snorted into his cupcake. The frosting collided with his nose and cheeks. Your hand flew to your mouth in shock as he spluttered. His hand came up to wipe the frosting off the curve of his lip and the tip of his nose.

"It's not too late," Neuvillette replied. You managed a gasp.

"How scandalous!" Your voice dripped with sarcasm. Not many knew how often Neuvillette frequented the opera for things other than trials. He was a fan of the Fontainian opera scene and was always hungry for drama. The less criminal, the better. Drama with no consequences except for those involved. The best kind.

"Balls like this are almost more entertaining than the opera," Neuvillette mused as he grabbed a glass of sparkling water. A special request of his, no doubt.

"They lack a fake death, though," you nodded along with him.

The music changed again. A melody you recognize. One from Mondstadt, if you remember correctly.

"Are you planning to stand here all night?" Neuvillette asked.

"I might spice it up and go stand over there," you replied and pointed to an open set of chairs on the other side of the ballroom.

"Well, then you have no reason to refuse." You furrowed your brows, but Neuvillette silenced you by holding out his hand. You stared at it for a moment.

"You're not going to let me say no, are you?" You asked the Chief Justice.

"You're welcome to say no, but try to be gentle with your rejection." As if you could truly reject him. Like many others in Fontaine, you can appreciate the looks of the Iudex. Anyone with eyes could.

"I suppose one dance couldn't hurt," you relented. Neuvillete didn't hesitate to pull you toward the dance floor. The crowd seemed to move like water as you both moved. Countless eyes flocked to you, and movement seemed to stop.

You tensed. Neuvillette felt it.

"Don't stop on our account," he announced to the hall. Instantly, at his command, the movement started again. You looked at your dance partner.

"Why are they staring?" You asked. Neuvillette took the lead and began to guide you. You weren't sure where he learned to dance, but you hoped he was better than you were.

"People are far too concerned with who I show interest in," Neuvillette responded. Your mouth fell open as he spun you.

"Interest?"

"Oh, you didn't know? I thought I was being very obvious." This was news to you. Your eyes shot to your friends, who were gathered around Charlotte. Her kamera was mounted. Furina smiled brightly, Navia made hearts with her hands, and Wrio shot you a wink.

"No matter, consider this as me making it even more obvious," Neuvillette continued.

"Are you courting me?" You asked, to make sure you weren't imagining things.

"I believe so, yes." Neuvillette dipped you, in perfect form. His hair draped over your face as you stared at him. His cheeks were flushed with warmth, his eyes wide and vulnerable. He was risking his heart by speaking, by breathing too close to you. "Do you accept?" His words fell apart into a gentle whisper. The air rushed over your face.

You needed to speak.

"Of course," you said. You meant it. You meant it a thousand times over. Afternoons chatting about water and tea blends, all the times he came in craving something sweet and a gentle smile, all the times you'd stare at him when he spoke of things he was passionate about. They all hit you like a tram. You were in love with him, weren't you?

Oh Archons help you.

Above you, Neuvillette smiled. And in the background, the rhythm changed into the familiar pattern of a waltz.