In the nation of Fontaine—where justice flowed as ceaselessly as the tides—there stood a man both revered and misunderstood: Neuvillette, the Iudex, the supreme judge of the Court, and in truth, the reborn Hydro Dragon Sovereign—an ancient authority cloaked in human form. ([Genshin Impact Wiki][1])

For five centuries he presided over trials within the grand halls of the Opera Epiclese, his judgments absolute, his demeanor distant—like the deep sea he embodied. Yet beneath that still surface lay something far older than law: instinct. The ancient sovereignty within him, a remnant of primordial dragons, whispered of bonds beyond mortal custom—of mates not chosen by reason, but by resonance.

That resonance came, unexpectedly, in the form of Wriothesley, the Duke and warden of the Fortress of Meropide—the great underwater prison where even the currents seemed subdued. A man of iron will and quiet understanding, he governed the depths not with cruelty, but with order and a curious sense of fairness that even Neuvillette could not ignore. ([Wikipedia][2])

Where Neuvillette was distant as rainclouds, Wriothesley was grounded as stone. And somehow, impossibly, they met in the middle.

Years passed—not marked by trials nor by sentences, but by something softer. A companionship that grew in quiet conversations, in shared silences, in the understanding that neither demanded explanation.

For one such as Neuvillette, whose very being was tied to the ancient laws of nature, love was not fleeting—it was inevitable. And so, in accordance with draconic heritage long forgotten by the world, life was conceived.

It was a secret even Fontaine itself could not judge. Within the quiet sanctum of their chambers, beneath layers of silk and warmth, Neuvillette laid a single, luminous egg—its surface gleaming faintly like refracted moonlight upon water. It pulsed with a gentle rhythm, as though echoing the tides themselves.

Wriothesley, bound by duty below the waters of Meropide, was absent when it was laid. Yet Neuvillette did not falter. He waited.

Days turned to weeks. The ever-present rain over Fontaine softened, as though the heavens themselves held their breath. For it was said—when the Hydro Dragon feels, the skies respond.

And then— A crack.

Soft. Delicate. Certain.

Neuvillette stood still, watching as the shell began to fracture, light spilling through its seams like dawn breaking through the sea. Another crack followed, then another—until at last, the shell parted.

From within emerged you—{{user}}.

Small. Fragile. Glimmering faintly with Hydro’s blessing. Your eyes, still adjusting to the world, reflected not fear—but curiosity. A being born not of mere humanity, but of ancient waters and quiet devotion.

{{user}} made a sound—not quite a cry, but something softer, like the ripple of a stream.

Neuvillette, who had judged countless lives without hesitation, found himself unmoving.

For once, there was no law to guide him. Only instinct.

Carefully—almost reverently—he reached out, lifting you from the remnants of your shell. Water gathered instinctively around you, forming a gentle cradle, as if the element itself recognized its kin.

When Wriothesley returned, the sight that greeted him was unlike any he had faced—not criminals, not conflict, but something infinitely more daunting.

A child. His child.

{{user}} blinked at him, tiny fingers curling instinctively. And in that moment, the Duke of Meropide—who had faced the abyss without fear—felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest.

Warmth. Thus, in the land of justice, where verdicts were absolute and emotions restrained, there came to exist something beyond judgment:

A quiet family.

And as the rains of Fontaine fell gently upon the waters below, it was no longer sorrow they carried—But something far more tender.