The Court of Fontaine was always noisy, like a broken meka ticking under the endless drizzle. Jude barely noticed anymore. Back home, rain meant hoodies and greasy takeout. Here, it meant people in fancy coats, sipping tea while plotting the end of the world.
He'd been stuck in this soggy city for nine months, and the wonder had worn off quick. But Navia? She was different. Golden hair, a laugh warm enough to melt ice, and a claymore swing that made sure nobody forgot who she was.
They'd been together for about thirty weeks now. It hadn't started with fireworks, but with a slip. One rainy night, Navia lost her footing near the canal while tailing a suspect. Jude, passing by with a bitter-tasting Fonta in hand, caught her before she tumbled in. Instead of gratitude, she burst out laughing at his deadpan, "Careful, pretty sure Fontaine's healthcare doesn't cover canal diving." She'd teased him by calling him her "anchor" after that, and somehow, the name stuck.
Until today.
"Jude! There you are."
Her voice cut through the café like a hammer on glass—sweet but sharp. Jude froze mid-sip, the fizz of his Fonta dying on his tongue. Navia marched toward him, skirt snapping in the rain, eyes narrowed enough to put a sinner on trial.
"Uh, hey, love? Everything okay?" he asked, carefully setting the glass aside. Across from him sat Charlotte, pink-haired and giggling over a stack of photos.
"Just what, exactly?" Navia snapped. In one swift motion, she caught Jude's ear and twisted hard enough to make him see stars. The entire café pretended not to notice, though Fontaine thrived on gossip. By sunset, this would be front-page news.
"Navia—ow! It's not—" Jude yelped as she dragged him into the nearest alley, umbrella balanced on her shoulder like a weapon. Charlotte gave an awkward wave—and a quick photo. The Soaring Yellow Rose vs. The Dumb Boyfriend: Round One.
"You think I didn't see?" Navia's cheeks burned as much from anger as from rain. "Her leaning close, her hand on your arm, whispering like it's some secret mission? Spina di Rosula doesn't leave loose ends. And neither do I."
Jude rubbed his aching ear, heart thudding—not from pain, but from how her eyes blazed. He'd never admit it out loud, but she was never more beautiful than when she was furious.
"It was just photos, Nav. The disappearance case. Charlotte needed tips with the angles—framing, wide shots, rule of thirds. That's all. No flirting. Promise."
Navia narrowed her eyes, raindrops clinging to her lashes like tiny jewels. "Wide shots, rule of thirds…" she repeated, flat as a verdict. "You think I don't know a bad excuse when I hear one?"
Jude lifted both hands in surrender. "Not an excuse—just composition. Honest."
Her grip on the umbrella tightened, and for a second he thought she might swing it at him. Instead, she sighed, rain dripping from the brim of her hat. "You and your nonsense…"
"Hey, you like my nonsense," Jude said, flashing a crooked smile.
That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of her lips—dangerously close to a smile.
"You're lucky I do," Navia muttered, finally letting go of his ear. "But if I ever see another girl leaning that close again, anchor or not, I'll toss you in the canal myself."
"Noted. No canals, no close-ups," Jude said, rubbing the sting from his ear.
From the café behind them came a muffled click. They turned just in time to see Charlotte slipping out the side door, camera in hand, grinning like she'd just won the Hydro Archon's blessing.
"Perfect," Jude groaned. "Tomorrow's headline: Navia vs. Suspicious Boyfriend, Round Two."
Navia's smile finally broke through, sharp and amused. She slipped her arm through his and pulled him close under the umbrella. "Let them write what they want. At least this time, you won't be the one falling into the water."
Jude chuckled, tension easing as the rain pattered around them. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Navia didn't resist. For all her fire and fury, she melted into his hold like she'd been waiting for it.
"You drive me mad sometimes," she murmured, voice softer now.
"Better mad than gone," Jude said, brushing a strand of wet hair from her cheek. His hand lingered, the world shrinking to her stormy eyes.
The rain softened against the cobblestones, their breath mingling in the space between them. She tilted her chin up, lips parting just enough—
"Boss Navia!"
The shout shattered the moment. Both flinched as a drenched Spina di Rosula member sprinted into the alley, waving frantically.
"There's been another one! Same as the last disappearance—fresh this time!"
Navia's hand slipped from Jude's chest, her expression hardening in an instant. The warmth was gone, replaced by that sharp, commanding edge he knew too well. She stepped out from under the umbrella, already all business.
"Show me," she ordered.
Jude sighed, the ghost of what almost was still hanging in the air. Adjusting the umbrella, he followed after her, muttering under his breath, "One of these days, I'll get that kiss."
Navia glanced back just long enough to smirk. "If you survive long enough, anchor."
And with that, the rain swallowed them both.
The rain had turned into a proper downpour by the time they reached the shadowy streets of Quartier Marchand, where the canals twisted like veins through Fontaine. Marcel, a sharp-eyed member of Spina di Rosula, led the way, boots splashing through puddles that reflected the warm glow of gas lamps. Navia moved like a storm, claymore slung over her shoulder, asking questions fast: the victim's details, last sighting, anything unusual, or signs of that strange glow and mechanical hum from previous cases.
Jude followed, umbrella raised like a soggy flag. His ear still throbbed from Navia's earlier squeeze, but the memory of their almost-kiss made it feel sweeter than the pain. One day, he promised himself, no interruptions. No headlines. Just them.
They turned a corner into a small plaza, blocked off by crates and lanterns. Whispers from onlookers mingled with the smell of wet metal. Kneeling in the mud at the center was a striking figure: Lady Furina de Fontaine herself, former Hydro Archon, her tricorne hat tilted as she poked at the ground with a gloved finger.
"Oh, the tragedy! The audacity!" she cried, voice cutting through the rain. She straightened, cape swirling, and looked at the group. "Another soul taken! How many more must Fontaine mourn before this ends?"
Navia slowed, switching from fierce to polite. "Lady Furina. Didn't expect to see you knee-deep in mud. Any reports?"
Furina waved her hand, eyes twinkling at Navia. "Reports, my dear? When disaster strikes, who hides in the wings? I've been here from the start—talking to witnesses, looking for clues, embodying justice itself!" She struck a dramatic pose. "And you? Arriving with reinforcements. Perfect timing."
Marcel bowed, mumbling about securing the perimeter, and hurried off. Navia gave a small, amused smile. "Your flair never changes. But if you've found anything—"
"Flair? No, dear Navia, it's passion! The danger makes it beautiful!" Furina's gaze then shifted to Jude. He felt exposed, the umbrella suddenly too small. She studied him from head to toe, curiosity shining in her mismatched eyes.
"And who is this?" she asked, stepping closer. "A new recruit? An undercover agent? Oh… you're an outsider! That coat—Mondstadt? Inazuma? And that umbrella… very practical. Tell me, are you here to help or just lost?"
Caught off guard, Jude said, "Uh… Jude. Just Jude. Outsider for about nine months. I'm helping." He looked at Navia, half-expecting her to step in, but she only raised a brow, arms crossed.
Furina's eyes lit up. She circled him once, twice, like a director reviewing a scene. "Jude… how delightfully mysterious! But wait—" she spun to Navia, grinning. "Navia, you sly rose! You've been hiding something. Is he… yours? A secret weapon? A brooding bodyguard?"
Navia stepped closer to Jude, her gloved hand brushing his arm. "Not a weapon. Jude's my anchor. Keeps me from tipping over." Her voice teased, but her eyes softened on him for a beat.
Furina gasped, hands to her cheeks. "Anchor? Oh! A partner? A beau? How utterly romantic!" She fanned herself dramatically. "Tell me! Was it love at first splash? A duel under aquabus lights? He saved you from the canals, didn't he? What a hero!"
Jude rubbed the back of his neck, heat rising. "Nothing that grand. Just… caught her once. Stuck ever since." Navia rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the blush creeping up her neck, her fingers lingering on his sleeve.
Furina swooned, eyes sparkling. "Oh! A steady current to your whirlwind! Navia, you've found your match. We must discuss this over tea. And you, Jude—welcome. Any partner of Navia's is a star in my spotlight."
She straightened. "But back to work! These footprints—see? They vanish into thin air… or thin water. Maybe a hydro trick? Let's see if your anchor's eyes notice what we've missed."
Navia laughed, bright and free, slipping her arm through Jude's. "Lead the way, Lady Furina. And Jude? Keep up. Wouldn't want you slipping now."
He fell into step beside her, Furina's approval buzzing in his ears. The rain fell harder, the mystery deepened—but for the first time all day, Fontaine felt a little less like a maze, and a lot more like home.