Chapter Text
It doesn’t take any time at all to reach Erinnyes and before she knows it, Furina is looking out into mountains of green and cobblestone paths up to the Opera Epiclese. There aren’t any trials held today so the area is a lot more deserted but the few loiterers that are around would stare and gape at her presence.
The Duke of the Underwater Prison, a renowned Champion Duelist, a melusine and the former Hydro Archon are all walking together in casual attire; she couldn’t even fault them for staring because they are quite the sight, especially on a supposedly uneventful day.
Although Furina can feel the curiosity and concern in their gazes when they look at her, seated on a wheelchair pushed by Clorinde after months of no-show from the public since the prophecy’s passing, it doesn’t help ease the growing apprehension in her heart.
She does her best to ignore the stares, squashing the urge to squirm and flee from their watchful eyes, which makes her want to snap back to her role as Hydro Archon. She can’t help but feel as though she’s being judged by those eyes; they feel accusing and resentful, and even though Furina is half-certain its just all in her head.
Like how most things are.
Thankfully for her, it helps that her companions notice her growing distress and change their walking formation. Currently, Sigewinne is pushing her wheelchair while Clorinde and Wriothesley follow her on either side to obstruct her from the passerby’s view.
Her heart, which has been rapidly thundering with anxiety, calms down slightly. There is no denying how lovely it felt to be out in the fresh air like this, just to see the flowers bloom and the people go about with their lives.
Ahead, in the courthouse courtyard, the waters flowed down the fountains and soon converged at the Fountain of Lucine, just down the cobblestone path ahead. Everything about it was serene and tranquil as the swans danced elegantly across the stream.
Being able to be there, living through it all, knowing that this is the result of her five hundred-year-long performance. It almost brought her to tears.
Without even realizing it, she takes a deep breath and fills the air with melodies from a time long ago.
“Blue as the wings of a heron in the night. Like the rising of the tides on the shores of Isle Skye.”
She sings with such sweetness that her companions stop her at the Fountain of Lucine, mesmerized by the words that flow from her lips in soulful breaths of delight and air.
“They gleam evergreen, winds 'a whistling in the pines. Like a castle-crawling vine, like the grassy Glen of Lyon.”
Hearing such a lovely voice singing, eyes are immediately drawn towards them, towards her. This time no longer do their faces etch with even a hint of suspicion or confusion, just pure awe, as they too are swept away like the waves that brush the shorelines to the tune of her singing.
“And rich as the mud after rain upon the ground. They're a whisky hue of brown, braided river running wild.”
The people are not quite crowding; they are simply standing transfixed where they stood from the moment those melodies were carried into the wind.
“I fell astray, but in you, I have found. That I am ever bound to your hazel eyes.”
Their bodies gravitate towards the voice, bewitched by its soft, pleasant call but even then, they could not take more than a few steps without being lulled to a stop in a trance.
Wriothesley and Clorinde take care to make sure no one actually got too close, but even they are minutely distracted in the dulcet tones of Furina sweetly singing but a simple tune yet here they are, like mice to a piper’s pipe.
As Furina sings, her eyes are closed, and she pours her heart into every note.
“Long is the day when the moon obscures the sun. 'Tis the darkness they become, till the dawn upon the fjord.”
In a few short seconds, the entire courtyard became her stage and the people, her audience. They listen raptly, amazed; the melusines sway and hum along; the birds perch on branches and stones, nodding their heads to her tune.
And if one looks up, they may see a shadow of a figure looming near one of the opened windows of the Opera Epiclese. They listen intently, filled with admiration and perhaps a desire to get a little closer.
The weather has been slightly cloudy—not too gloomy yet not too scathing.
Furina is not sure what inspired her to start singing out of nowhere, but it felt right.
Pushed in a wheelchair up a place she used to both dread and anticipate with an eased heart, knowing this could never hurt her any longer, it just seemed right to sing the soliloquy etched in her heart to mark this milestone.
The streets aren't her stairs to the stage she loves and despises; the people watching are no longer the spotlight, expecting her to be someone she’s not; and the courthouse is no longer a waiting guillotine.
The words that fell from her tongue are not technically hers; they were penned and composed by strangers of a distant era. But for once, the voice is hers and there’s not a hint of the role she was stuck playing. For once, the choice to sing them is hers and not a cue that she has to follow.
It just felt right, like her freedom reclaimed.
With the last note, she opens her eyes to a wave of applause—not loud or boisterous like the ones she’s accustomed to in court with their exuberating cheers and obnoxious whistles whenever she makes a spectacle of herself to sell her godhood.
They clap their hands calmly and politely, smiling with joy and amazement on their faces, not from her show of some sham of divinity but purely for her voice and her singing. The kind of applause received by the best and most magnificent performers to grace the opera’s stage.
Furina inhales deeply, a feeling so light burst from her chest she could burst into tears.
A young girl approaches her, holding a rainbow rose. Quite the brave child she is since the woman, who is most likely her mother, goes pale and looks ready to faint as the little one approaches the lady, who is accompanied by her rather intimidating escorts, with not a tinge of fear.
“You sing nice Lady Furina!” The little girl in a cute bonnet remarks and presents Furina with the flower as if it were a divine offering.
It’s a single stalk, one she must have pluched from the courtyard garden grounds, its nothing like the lavish bouquets made with assortments of rare and beautiful flowers she used to receive and yet Furina feels this token is far more precious than any other she’s received before.
Furina accepts the gift with a soft "Thank you" and then tucks the flower into her clothing, wearing it as a medal for all to see.
The first flower for a performance she receives as Furina the human, not Lady Furina the Hydro Archon.
The girl suddenly frowns, looking rather worried. “Are you feeling better? Maman said you were very sick!”
Furina chuckles, patting the little one on her head. “Yes, I’m feeling a lot better now, thank you.”
Her mother steps forward hastily after that, slowly tugging her daughter back while sheepishly apologizing. “Sorry for my dear Lyra here,” the woman bows, picking up her small daughter and chiding her softly. “Honey, please don’t run off like that again.”
However, the child whines with a pout, “But it’s Lady Furina! She sing so pretty maman!”
Furina reassures the woman, “No, it’s fine, she’s very lovely. Have a nice day, you two.” Bidding them farewell and preening at the child’s praise.
Then she turns around and notices three faces staring at her. “What?” She stammers hotly, a little flustered by the unmoving awe in her small audience’s faces.
"I must admit, I’ve never heard you sing," Wriothesley remarks, clearing his throat. “But I can understand why you're so idolized now.”
"I enjoyed it too," his nurse said, nodding excitedly in accord.
Clorinde didn’t need to drop a remark, the proud smile on her lips say it all. Being who she was before, her position allowed her to spectate many if not all of Furina’s performance whenever she’s casted for a show.
The only thing that tugs at her heart is how much she missed her lady’s voice and the deep, soulfelt way she throws herself into the notes and melodies. Furina has always been an outstanding performer; that is an undeniable fact.
If only such skill wasn’t born out of her suffering, even if Furina did have the utmost love and is passionate for the arts of the stage, no doubt there will always be a bitter aftertaste of the reminder that the stage was once an endless nightmare.
“Oh you guys! It was a song from one of my earliest roles, maybe about three hundred years ago.” She muses with a nostalgic cadence to her voice. “Yeah, it felt... fitting.”
“You still remember the lyrics and melody after three hundred years?” The duke remarks with surprise.
Furina chuckles, “I remember each role and song I ever sung as those roles, they’re…… pretty much how I keep myself sane.”
“Because you didn't have to keep playing the hydro archon when you’re playing those roles.” Clorinde says the words for her, the grief she feels for Furina is a deep well that keeps sinking deeper.
“I….. love performing.”
Furina says, not aloud or in a proclamation. But in a whisper, like it's a secret meant only for her heart because its a pleasure she’s not allowed to indulge in.
“It was the one selfish thing I genuinely sought out to do for myself, even while playing my role as Archon."
Selfish she calls herself, her love and passion. Selfish as she tore herself apart and regarded herself so lowly for her people’s sake. Selfish, they once called her, because they could not see past the performance she put on to save them all.
Selfish, what a funny word to associate with this lady she pledged herself to. Clorinde can’t believe there was a time she ever doubted Furina—selfish—the word makes her skin crawl and fills her with the urge to puncture her sword through something—preferably herself, repeatedly.
Furina, lovely kind and all-too-forgiving Furina. What did they ever do to deserve her?
“Trading one mask for another must sound ridiculous but I treasured those times when, for just a little while,” She inhales a stretch of breath, her eyes glazed with relief. “I wasn’t the Hydro Archon.”
She pushes herself off the wheelchair, her body moving fluidly to the steps of a role from long ago. “I was Giselle, a peasant dancer from a small village or Ella, a maid in her own house. Aurora, a cursed princess waiting for her prince,”
The lady twirls and leaps; her hand movements are graceful and her footsteps are featherlight. Lost in her trip down memory lane, she danced and danced. The parts she played, the songs she sang, the routines she danced, each one floats through her mind.
For years she perfected her stage skills from the minor roles to backstage tech to the main leads and directing voice of an Opera. She has learned to wear as many masks as the number of instruments her body can fluently play, truly the title Fontaine’s darling star might just be the one moniker in her life so far that she can accept genuinely.
“Veronica, Hailey, Belle, Odette—” Her words cut off with a gasp as a sharp pain shot through her abdomen while a dizzy spell rattled her. Clorinde, who stuck close to her, caught her by the arms before she hit the floor.
Furina is seated on her wheelchair once more, this time a little sheepish from pushing herself too much. Sigewinne gives her a pointed stare that meant no more funny business or she’s pulling the gun out.
Furina glances back at the Opera House, a solemn look comes across the former archon’s face,
“None of these names are Furina and yet that’s why they didn’t need to be the Hydro Archon either.” She seethes bitterly, the stage brings her dread as much as joy or so she thought, “It’s funny how the role, Furina is the hardest of them all and, ironically, the only one that isn’t a mask.”
Or maybe it is? Who knows because it's not like Furina can tell which parts of her are hers and which are not. Focalors seemed convinced that her love for the art of performance is genuine but Furina can't begin to trust that divinity of hers to not get their opinions blurred together.
A passion tainted by trauma of a forced fate but oh did she love the stage.
“It has me wondering sometimes, did I love performing because it was forced on me and was all I ever knew or was it just something I enjoyed all along?” Her voice wonders quietly, meant only for her companions to hear.
A wet laugh escapes those lips, ”Would I have still loved it so passionately if it wasn’t how I lived my life?" she turns to face them, a steady smile with her eyes wide and not a tear in sight yet what painful sight she makes.
“Ah forget it, I got carried away there…”
“I don't know much about the performing arts or theater,” Wriothesley starts, his lips curve slightly with sympathy, “But I reckon not anyone can sing like you did if their heart isn’t in it.”
Furina looks up to meet his gaze, the man carefully pats her shoulder. “I believe the answers to those questions are there if you look for them. And only if you look for them." he tells her earnestly, and something in Furina felt soothed by those words.
She does not find an answer to her queries in them, but somehow they are everything she never knew she needed to hear. They push her around a bit more, making small talks or just letting her soak in the air that isn’t the walls of the Palais for once.
That is until it is obvious Furina is getting restless being stuck in her chair, “Here, c'mon, up you get.” Wriothesley offers, getting on his knees with his back towards the Archon urging her to climb on.
Clorinde cranks her head up to look at the courthouse then towards the sky, “It’s going to rain,” She declares, already regretting not having brought an umbrella.
Furina, who is completely mortified by the man’s gesture, is trying to talk him out of it. “You really don’t have to. This is hardly appropriate!” she reasons while Sigewinne unhelpfully tries to coax her to get onto Wriothesly’s back.
People are starting to stare and sure no one is actually going to say anything about it but still.
Exhaling a breath, the duke got up to his feet once more, “Can’t see how this is inappropriate.” There’s a glint in his eyes that Furina can tell means trouble, “Okay fine, I’ll just do this."
“Wait what—”
And then proceeds to pick up the former archon with his arms, carefully of course with an arm supporting her thigh and the other at her back, he’s not that careless to incur Sigewinne’s ire.
Clorinde’s eye twitch, “Nevermind, it’s going to storm.”
Ironically enough, it’s not like she’s doing anything to stop him, and if anyone observes closer they could see the small teasing curve of her lips.
“Wriothesley!”
Arms wrapped around the man's collarbone, clinging for dear life, Furina lets out a loud screech more out of surprise than fear. Her is face madly red and if she wasn’t so occupied with how nice it feels to be held in such a way—no matter how embarrassing the thought is—she would have shot hydro beams at the man for the sheer nerve of him!
Instead she’s melting in his arms as her worries and tenseness melts away as well.
The touch is not at all uncomfortable, but it does have her lightly pressed against his frame and the warmth is similar to that of an embrace, it feels oddly foreign. And it feels so good that it’s taking all the will she’s left to not snuggle in.
She can’t help it! She’d get the occasional hug from Clorinde from time to time when the duelist is up for it, and absolutely refuse to give in to Lumine’s whims of letting her have more than just a couple headpats per visit.
And after literal centuries of downright terrified of people knowing just what she is thus never letting them touch her and especially not skin-to-skin, Furina is without a doubt very touch starved.
Furina doesn’t need to see Sigewinne to know the nurse is pulling out her notebook and noting down touch starve for another of her ‘symptoms’, next thing Furina knows she’d add cuddle sessions into her treatment plan along with the physical therapy they’re already going to start on.
The duke laughs, gently bouncing the lady in his arms to steady their position, “Don’t worry, I won’t drop you; Clorinde would kill me."
The duelist scoffs, "Not before the Iudex is through with you first.” And on cue, the skies are darkening with the threat of downpour, she takes a glimpse up the courthouse windows, “Looks like he saw,”
Clearly none of these people are thinking rationally, the former archon can already see tomorrow’s grand headline. ‘From the heaven throne to the depths? Ex-Archon and The Meropide Duke Star Crossed Scandal?!’ She needs to contact Charlotte and bribe the girl to bribe the rest of the industry to shut up about her.
Furina throws one last pleading glance at her nurse, “Sigewinne?!” It’s fruitless she knows, but a girl needs to try.
The melusine gives her a stare, especially at how she’s not even trying to make Wriothesley put her down. “He’s very capable, plus your body must be sore from sitting on that for so long." she reasons and that was that.
The first couple droplets of rain starts to fall and the group begins running towards the nearest shelter.
“This, is, mortifying.”
But she’s smiling, it's crooked and shaky yet glossed with a sincere shine, and her friends are laughing along.
“Are you embarrassed, Furina?”
“He’s going to kill you,”
“He can try,”
Sigewinne giggles, “He easily can your grace! He just won’t,” she places her hand out under the rain that’s slowly thinning away even when it was pouring heavily minutes ago. “Even now, he couldn’t help it.”
Three pair of eyes turns towards her curiously, “What do you mean Sigewinne?” Clorinde asks, wondering what could the melusine have meant by that.
“Monsieur Neuvillette cares deeply about Furina and her happiness,” She says softly, turning towards the one in question. “Your friends are your happiness, of course he wouldn't dare take them away. That man would sooner cross the Sumeran dessert than upset you.”
Her words cause Furina’s breath to hitch, a hand clutches her vision tightly as it thrums lightly with elemental energy.
"If there is happiness for you even in things that upset him, he will disperse the rain to keep the day shining for you, even if it means keeping the storms bottled up in his heart."
Furina inhales sharply, genuinely wanting nothing more than to believe those words. But what right did she have to do so? How could she? She subconsciously burrows her head into Wriothesley's embrace, if only to avoid Sigewinne's gaze.
“Furina it may seem unlikely but try not to doubt his heart, just the one if everything else must be questioned.” Then her usually light voice takes an octave dive deeper, graver. “At the very least, he deserves that shred of acknowledgment.”
It felt like the melusine can read her mind. Wriothesley and Clorinde both appear confused, but Furina understand well and clear.
“I understand,”
She’s glad that Sigewinne at least isn’t coddling her in that front, because that’s the reality of things. Furina was hurt in the grand scheme of things but that didn’t mean Neuvillette walked away unscathed.
It didn’t mean she had no part in hurting him.
Life is a lot less dull after that particular outing, seeing how she’s able to manage her body’s limits, they’ve begun to get her on with physical therapy along with the other more up-in-her-noggin kind of therapy.
Lumine checked in a couple days ago, the traveler had sent Paimon away to come wallow in her misery while sprawled on Furina’s bedroom floor. Why Furina’s floor particularly she’ll never know, but the blonde was a flat pancake of depression on her carpet.
“f*ck this world, truly why me? Why do I have to deal with witnessing these tragedies I HAVE ENOUGH ANGST TO LAST ME THE NEXT SIXTY THOUSAND LIFETIMES WHERE’S THE FLUFF?!? YOU CAN’T ALL BE THIS SAD?!?!”
The former archon has no idea whatsoever of what’s rambling, only after she was calmed down enough to relay entirety of the ‘f*ckery called the Narzissenkreuz Ordro investigation’ as she calls it, Furina had to put her cup of tea down to recalibrate her thoughts, the tea inside untouched, forgotten and cold.
And then to her own displeasure, grabs the poor thing into a much needed bone-crushing hug. “What in the name of justice have you been doing? What? How is all that happening and none of us here noticed?!”
“Furina, Teyvat is so f*cked and I’m this close to losing it!” The traveler bemoans as she grumbles against Furina’s hold. “Also, it wasn’t that much fanfare honestly, and if there was it’s all happening down below probably as deep as the Fortress if not deeper.”
And then she’s shaking, gripping onto the former goddess and undoubtedly ruining her dress with tears and snot that Furina is going to have her launder once all this is said and done. The traveler is not human nor mortal, a creature from beyond Teyvat but Furina is beginning to piece together her supposed nature.
Furina pats her back. “You really ought to take someone with you on those kinds of trips, aren’t those Hearth twins fond of you? And for goodness sake, take the damn tissue!”
To be so horribly shaken like this, perhaps her kind has some kind of high sense of empathy on top of the deadly powerful adaptive constitution that allows her to use and manipulate any existing type of energy.
“It was so sad!”
“Shush now, it’s all done.”
“I miss my brother!”
“Oh that’s…..that’s deeper than I’m willing to go.”
Furina grimace, when did she became safe place for her lay down her worries?! She would think these are the kinds of breakdowns she’d have with much closer companions such Paimon or Navia.
Their relationship is rocky at best, and the only reason Furina is willing to let herself be vulnerable around her is because Lumine has seen her at her worst, there’s nothing left to hide when she’s seen Furina at rock bottom.
This mess she’s being is definitely far from Lumine’s true rock bottom but sometimes its odd, the former goddess just doesn't think she’s equipped with what it means to comfort her as nice as it is to have someone trust her like this.
But Lumine keeps coming back, with interesting tales and a warm smile, and each time she comes Furina minds it a little less. They exchange pastries, laughs, jabs, and tears, and to be honest, Furina is beginning to realize that she will have to settle for her insistence on friendship.
Hell, she might dare she say it—enjoy it.
It’s a little weird, unconventional as is the term Lumine would use, but isn’t that just who she is? What they are at this point?
Friends….. Furina is finding herself with an abundance of those lately.
Wriothesley has been dropping by whenever he’s up on the overworld which is oddly frequent recently as the man is dealing with certain relations and issues with the crisis relief efforts. They would sit together for tea and small talks, sometimes he'd push her around to walk about in the garden or become a supportive company during her physical therapy.
The man is likely busy yet takes the time to spend time with her. Furina can't help but enjoy and look forward to having Wriothesley's company, they share the same brand of humor and he's patient with her bouts of dramatics.
There's no reverence or any sort of formality between them that still exists between Furina and some of her other companions. Other than Lumine, he's the only other person who doesn't treat Furina like she's a fragile lass in need of constant coddling.
It was nice, having such a friend where there's just no…. expectations of who she's supposed to be.
With him, it's easy to just, be.
And perhaps that's why she finds herself letting a bit of her heart pour out to him. The quiet fearful insecurities she guarded so tightly in her heart unwinding if only just for a single intake of breath.
The man as always, listens raptly with a thoughtful expression. “I’ve no idea why but nonetheless, I'm flattered you trust me for these types of matters of heart and mind. Going forward, do you have plans?” he asks from the cushion he's sitting facing Furina's bed.
The former Archon sighs seemingly curling more into the small ball she already is on her bed, Furina shakes her head. “I don't... know. I think I'll leave the Palais after recovering but then..." Her words trails off, a faraway glaze in her eyes.
Wriothesley hums, “They said it was meant to be a trial, but you surprised them with the duel. I've heard recounts, but facing Clo….” his face winces with sympathy.
Furina chuckles when she remembers how he always tells her of the spars outcomes between himself and the champion is determined by Clorinde's mood and shenanigans tolerance quota.
She's a Champion Duelist for a reason after all.
“In hindsight, I guess I should’ve realized that would’ve been the trial my divinity told me of.” She muses aloud indignantly, allowing the idea to linger if only out of a curiosity of a what could have been.
"I do wonder how it would have turned out if I had gone with it."
(In another life, there was cutthroat trial, an almost assisted suicide just to prove a point and her work of 500 years of agony nearly crumbles to nothing by a couple pokes in the right holes.)
“..... badly, I'd assumed.” Furina shudders, as quick witted as she is, even she has to admit the traveler is entirely different ballpark of crafty.
“Worse than the duel that’s got you like this for months?” Intrigued, Wriothesley beckons her to continue.
“Scars on my body hurt less than the ones on my heart; their words would be crueler than a duel to death where I can’t die. If… if the truth was ripped out of me then…. What will all that suffering I endured for? I would resent them.”
The admission came from a deep dark place in her mind, one she feels shameful of having. Furina exhales shakily, her voice wavering as she speaks, “I do not want to resent anyone anymore. It's such a tiring thing, to be angry and hateful. I'm sick of it.” She grips the hem of her blanket so tightly her knuckles are turning blue.
“They should still apologize..." Wriothesley remarks with a sigh much like an exasperated older brother he somehow ended up being to his former archon.
Furina groans and shakes her head, “All they've done is apologize. I’m sick of apologies." She scoffs gratingly. “I just need to get over it; I will, I just need time.”
Saying sorry never fixed things, and it wasn't like anything truly important needed fixing. And yet despite her words, her shoulders slump with an obvious gloom at the unfairness of it all.
Perhaps the saddest part about this is that Wriothesley doesn't doubt it's what she truly believes to be true, and in theory it is. Time would heal her wounds, but she's not getting over anything if she couldn't even acknowledge the scars it left behind.
From his own observation of her in these few meetings, it's obvious Furina has an unconventional trauma response of subconsciously detaching herself from reality to cope. Almost like a reader making commentary of a character's actions when she's really talking about herself.
Wriothesley holds out a plate of pain au chocolat towards her, “Or maybe what you need is closure.”
She takes one and starts nibbling idly, “Closure?”
“You got yours with Clo and Lumine, and you guys are better now for it; you are doing better with them.”
Furina supposed that's true, “I’m not particularly close with... the others. It wouldn't matter.” she adds on stubbornly.
It’s as Navia said during the trial of the missing persons cases, neither her nor do the Spina ever held Furina or the court in any high regard. Her involvement in the mess isn’t surprising—It’ll be more shocking if they weren’t involved—and honestly Furina doesn’t really understand where she stands with that young demoiselle.
It’s awkward enough that one of her failures is what led to Callas’s death, it’s truly a wonder how Navia doesn’t hate her at all. Her letters are sweet and heartwarming to read talking about the daily lives of people of Poisson and the Spina recovering from the flood, even if Furina feels like a stranger intruding reading those.
For the Fatui bunch, that’s more self-explanatory. Although Neuvilette had enquired through his missives if she would like to take actions against them—more specifically the ones against a certain harbinger as she had no true quarrel with the hearth siblings—she had not given her word on that particular landmine of yuck.
Furina has staunchly ignored it till now. She doesn’t feel like kicking up a fuss about a matter long passed that truly only concerned her. She’s here, she’s alive and fine and doesn’t even have scars from that encounter to remember it by.
All in all, she could just pretend it was a horrid dream and be done with it.
She wants to tell Neuvillette to forget about it, water under the bridge but anytime she wishes to pen the words down, she remembers the bone chilling fear, the sharp agony of something clawing into her chest.
She remembers the painstaking effort it took to drag herself back to her room undetected with a bleeding wound without letting even a drop of blood leaving behind evidence.
She remembers the mind numbing pain as she leans against the mirror of her room after patching herself up the best she could with what meager supplies and skills she had on-hand, crying quietly as her voice incoherently calls for someone in the mirror that would not appear.
The former archon remembers and the pen would not move in her grip, her hands would shake, her vision goes blurry and a knot forms in her throat.
Furina remembers and finds herself being jolted back to reality by a melusine for being unresponsive too long and hours of memories blank and unrecalled.
How can she tell them to forget when she herself would be haunted by the memories?
Furina deeply sighs, “I don’t see why I couldn’t just let sleeping dogs lie; they said their piece, and I’ve said mine.”
Wriothesely sighs, “But it's not justice, is it?” he murmurs pointedly and watches as the words rattle through her like waves.
Furina nearly drops the pastry in her hand, slowly lowering the half-eaten dessert down to the plate in her lap. The stunned silence is more than enough of an answer, one that even Furina is aware she's been denying herself of.
Her voice quivers slightly as she whispers, "No, it is not."
How could it possibly be justice when one side walks away unscathed while she would bleed so long as the memory stains her mind.
Wriothesley watches as her face colours with conflict, what she thinks she should feel and what she actually feels warring like smudges of different colours. Its been so long thats she’s used to taking the pain onto herself to maintain the perfect image of an archon that it still takes time for Fruina to understand she doesn’t have to.
That it's not fair to herself how she denies herself the justice she dutifully gives others.
“Do you want it?” he threads carefully, and sees the desire flash across her face if only just for a second.
“Do I deserve it?” she counters, and it’s really hard to not be shocked at how such a vulnerable voice could held so much self-loathing.
A god’s burden really isn’t to be carried by humans.
"Since when did justice have to be deserved?" Wriothesley muses, a tsk leaving his lips.
Furina shakes her head sullenly, “I have no right to judge them anymore—What’s so funny!?” she suddenly squawks when the man chortles at her words. “I’m laying my heart bare for you and you dare laugh?!”
Wriothesely is covering his mouth to stifle his amusem*nt, “No no pardon me but pfft—Furina, you were never a judge and we do have an Iudex in this land for a purpose.”
“I don’t want to press charges!” She protests, the thought of another standing trial in the courthouse brings nothing but dread in her stomach. There’ll be none of that for her for the time being.
“Then don't; just have them judged, for your own sake.” He reiterates, “So you can have your closure and move on.”
The Duke stands up to clear away the teacups and plates, placing them on the cart. He then sits himself next to the former archon on her bed, giving her an assuring squeeze on the shoulder.
“God or not, you deserve justice too, Furina.”
Furina leans into the touch, another thing she appreciates about the man is that he’s not afraid to initiate skinship with her. “My justice…… I’ll… think about it.” she murmurs thoughtfully.
The lady smiles up to him, “Thank you Wrio,” to which the duke smirks, “And maybe have a petty revenge while you're at it,”
Furina snickers pleasantly at the suggestion, one she’s sure to take to heart. “I do miss being petty, maybe I will.”
Seeing her shoulders slack with newfound relief, his own tension at seeing her so wounded up eases. “Want a hug?'' He doesn’t need to wait for an answer before a smaller body comes barrelling into his embrace, clinging around his neck which he readily reciprocates.
The skies outside are turning muddy, the pair break away to the first few droplet falling on the balcony. Furina frowns, “His mood swings are horrendous these days…..” her comment is from a place of concern but there’s only a slight hue of exasperation on the duke’s face.
“He’s a dramatic one, ain’t he?” the man mutters to himself in that tone that implies he understands something beyond the obvious. Furina wonders if they’re ever going to tell her about it.
She waves him off at the door, “Wriothesley, thank you. For… reaching out and these visits….. It’s nice.”
“It’s not always I find someone who can appreciate good tea like I do, between you and me, maybe we’ll make Clorinde see sense.” he retorts while she rolls her eyes back at him fondly.
“I think I’ve had my fill of impossible feats for one lifetime, I’ll be cheering you on though!”
A melusine comes greeting them, here to prepare Furina for her physical therapy sesion in a few hours. He bids his last farewells with promise of letters and visits and walks off to wait for the elevator when unsurprisingly or not, he can feel the looming eyes of certain dragon on him.
“Ah, so you were around….” He drawls, swiveling his foot around to meet the draconic gaze of one Iudex.
As far as he’s concerned, they’ve always had a stable if not occasionally cordial relationship. Friendly coworkers at best, they were after all the two points that connects the overworld and the no-man’s land underneath.
However this would mark the first time Wriothesley is faced with such a placid cold gaze from the other, although he may appear calm, the weather outside storming with fervor is a dead giveaway of what the dragon is truly feeling.
How unfortunate of him, to have such obvious tells when one knows where to look.
The man wastes not a breath for pleasantries, “Do you intent to court Furina?”
He asks, voice leveld as neutrally as possible but even the ever-partial Chief Justice could not hide the simmering venom in his voice. It was a commonly belived myth that dragons or those of draconic traits often have highly possessive tendencies.
It would look like that wouldn’t it? To an outsider, he’s a man who is sitting in private one-on-one meetings with the former archons and Furina obviously enjoys his company and how he easily allows a few affectionate gesture between them with the occasional hug or hand holding.
Not that its any near the actual truth, he is fond of the former archon because she reminds Wriothesely so much of the kids under his so-called parents roof that he would’ve—had dirtied his hands to protect.
Furina, undoubtedly would fit right in with their lot.
But because he wants to see just how far he can press this, and to ascertain just how deep the dragon's feelings run—all for Furina's sake of course—Wriothesley does a stupid.
“And if I am? I think I’ll do well for a partner, don’t you think so?”
Something in the air, shifts as the last word leaves his lips.
Whatever he’s doing, its making Wriothesely’s own vision pulse warningly dangerdangerdanger. By doing a quick scan through his elemental sight, the man could see the air around them brimming with activated hydro energy particles.
The man Wriothesley has come to know as Iudex and later as the hydro dragon is clearly threaten by his relationship with Furina who he must have seen as his, he’s towering over Wriothesley with such a frosty look that it’s enough to spark some primal fear in the duke.
The skies outside thunders loudly, mirroring the grim look on Iudex's face. It’s not quite a glare, just an intense gaze with barely concealed fury swimming in those ancient eyes saying how dare you.
Thankfully, Wriothesley does not actually have a death wish.
Putting both hands up in surrender he takes a step back, “Geez, relax, I jest, I jest.” he assures him with a nervous chuckle.
The blaze in Neuvillette’s eyes dims, the man schools his expression and that menacing aura all but dissipates, as if it was nothing but Wriothesley's own figment of imagination.
A might of a dragon sovereign, how terrifying, how fortunate they are he's so fond of their darling star.
The dragon turns away from him awkwardly, “I….I apologize for that uncalled behavior. I was …. upset.” he sounds quite frankly sheepish about it.
Wriothesley stares at him with incredulity, if that is what he's like upset, he wouldn't want to know what a truly angered dragon would be like.
Shaking his head, he pats the Iudex shoulder, “Don’t worry, I actually have my eyes on a different lady, not yours.” his tone sly as he sees the way the other widens his eyes, a protest already on his lips.
“She’s not—!” Neuvillette cuts himself off, the dragon looks quite distressed at the thought. “Our relationship is not of romantic nature,” he amends, but even Wriothesley can detect the insecurity in his voice.
To be fair, this is the most expressive and emotional he's seen of the man and they are admittedly quite close acquaintances. He knows how hard Neuvillette works into understanding and sympathizing with human nature, and he's come a long way.
It's endearing to see that in the end, all roads still lead back to that one special lady in his heart, even if he refuses to allow himself to indulge in such thoughts.
Wriothesley laughs, dragging the man with him into the elevator, “C’mon monsieur, is that the kind of attitude that’ll get you her affections?” He teases, absolutely relishing the annoyed yet flustered expression that crosses the judge's face.
Teasing him is a lot more fun when he's finally getting the reactions he wants.
“Your implications are baseless and outrageous Wriothesley.” Neuvillette remarks sternly, a sharp edge in his voice that screams warning. “I would not sully Furina's honor with such outlandish implications.”
Ah, all roads do in fact, lead back to one lady in particular.
A pause of silence blankets them, to such statements Wriothesley has nothing to say. While he does wonder why Neuvillette never actively pursued the woman in all their centuries of ruling together, the answer apparently is one he never thought to entertain.
And in hindsight, it is pretty obvious. Neuvillette has been and will always be a man of duty first and foremost.
Neuvillette always held himself as the ever impartial Iudex of Fontaine, a high standard that most mortals can't even deign to perceive. Romantic endeavors with the nation's Archon would have been seen as a conflict of interest with how actively Furina participated in court proceedings.
And she was a god then, a deity of a nation he presides in. Neuvillette may have been a dragon sovereign, a creature as immortal as gods and perhaps more ancient than them, yet he undoubtedly followed Furina as a believer would.
But that was when she's an Archon, she's not one now. And yet the respect and reverence he feels for her only tripled after the prophecy’s passing, for all that she's not a god—she never was—Neuvillette, whether he realizes or not, never actually stops seeing her as one.
His lips say human but his heart and mind so clearly say goddess. His goddess.
And what faithful believer would ever think themselves worthy of their god's most intimate affections?
The elevator dings and opens to a lobby hallway, Wriothesley steps out first but grabs onto the door ledge, holding it open.
“Neuvillette, she’s mortal now.” he affirms gravely, not looking back at the dragon just yet.
“I’m aware,” comes a neutral reply from his back.
“Her time is no longer as vast as yours, less than a century even. Perhaps you should consider whether you want to be a part of her now mortally limited life while it is still possible or regret the memories and what could have been forever.”
He turns around and faces Neuvillette with a heavy gaze. “As your friend, I’d rather you not harbor that kind of grief and regret forever.” he tells him, hoping the dragon could understand his concerns.
“Forever is a long time, Neuvillette, I’m a mortal myself; I wouldn't know what living such a life is like.” Wriothesley may care for Furina, but Neuvillette is his friend too. He doesn't wish to see any of them suffering needless regrets, “Don’t do something you’ll only suffer for later,”
The other man stares back at him transfixed with a conflicted expression, his mouth open to say something only to fall shut wordlessly.
Centuries he's lived yet in that moment, Neuvillette looked……young, inexperienced and unsure of himself in a way that reminds Wriothesley so much of his youth days. And perhaps he is, what is five centuries to a creature that can live on for millennials?
Hopefully he won't spend too long grieving over a lost love that could have been.
“Be it as a beloved, a dear friend or just someone in her life that's a little more than a former co-worker…..” Wriothesley reaches out to pat the Iudex’s shoulder, and then gives it a sharp squeeze with just the barest hint of cryo to drive the point home.
Neuvillette doesn't even react to it, those slit draconic eyes still locked with his own gleaming a vicious intensity.
“Be something, everything, anything to her, just don't be nothing. If not for your sake then do it for her, it's the least she deserves. She's been alone long enough,” He gives the dragon one last nod and turns away, walking out of the elevator but not without one final say.
“She doesn't deserve this loneliness and neither do you.”
Neuvillette remains unmoving inside the elevator as the door slides shut. And only in this new stretch of solitude does the sound of ragged breathing of a certain Hydro Dragon Sovereign can be heard bouncing off the walls.
“Little do you know how I'm breakin' while you fall asleep. Little do you know, I'm still haunted by the memories."
The melody is soft, paired with the sound of piano keys dancing around the room, dainty gentle hands moving across the keys with expertise.
“Little do you know, I'm tryin' to pick myself up piece by piece.”
The words she sings are like whispers from a heart closed off, unspoken words she wishes to convey to someone but could not find the courage to muster. Why was it that she found it so hard to face him? Shame, guilt or anger? She doesn't remember anymore.
“Little do you know I... need a little more time…."
Furina had a nightmare, one that has her jolting up violently in bed trembling with unfounded restlessness. The clock tells her dawn is upon them in an hour or so, she didn't feel like going back to sleep.
So she snuck out—her glowing improvements convinced her nurse she doesn't need round-the-clock monitoring—a shawl thrown around her to keep warm and she made her way to her music room just a couple doors down the hall.
Between this and that, now she's sitting on her grand piano seat playing whatever note that comes to mind.
A mind that's brewing around the topic of a certain dragon.
She doesn't feel like playing any particular song so she lets her fingers play around with the keys and all the sudden she's playing a tune that's composed as she sings random strings of lyrics.
“Underneath it all, I'm held captive by the hole inside; I've been holding back for the fear that you might change your mind."
She knew he had seen her with Wriothesley that day, that he must be getting the wrong idea if the sudden storm is any telltale. The thought only makes her exhale tiredly, while sweet at first the protectiveness is getting a little too much. She’s not some damsel who needs her nonor defend!
Furina knows they should talk, like actually sit down and talk about….. about them and not these silly back and forth letters they're doing. Trying to pretend like everything is back to how they are before.
But she's so so afraid.
She's always been the coward that's all too ready to take the hits she needs to take for the sake of others, but this? This is so much more than just taking a hit, so much more than losing a friend, a co-worker, a partner.
Especially when she already feels as though she lost him.
There's so much unsaid words between them, a mountain so high it feels daunting to tackle. And each day of delaying the inevitable, it feels like the prospect of him remaining in her life is slipping through her fingers like sands in the desert.
They both have been through so much together with their own wounds and knives in their backs.
“I'm ready to forgive you, but forgettin' is a harder fight.”
She supposed that's what happens to a pair like them, you can only love someone so deeply before you start hurting them just as much.
“Little do you know I……. need a little more time.”
So lost in her head, in the haze of guilt, frustration and longing that she fails to notice another presence entering the room who was drawn here by a peculiar tune.
“Furina…?”
Startled, Furina whips her head around towards the aghast voice calling her name. Her pupils widen slightly at the sight of the one running in her head before her, appearing as if summoned by her feelings.
Perhaps in a way, he was.
Furina chuckles sheepishly, “Oh, N-Neuvillette, what are you…?”
Neuvillette stood by the door like a deer caught in headlights, his outer robes of his formal court garments draped on his forearms leaving the man only in his simple shirt and dress pants.
Last she checked, it was some ungodly hour of the morning, how is it the dragon is already up and about?! Furina supposed he might need a recap lecture about healthy working habits if that's how things are with her out of the picture.
Honestly, he should've known better than to push himself—The former archon’s mind screeches to a halt, mentally slapping herself. So easily she slipped back to the role she used to play! Furina mentally berates herself while pointedly trying not to let her unease show on her face.
“I…. thought…. I lost track of the time doing my work, I was going to check on you before retiring for a bit but I thought I heard…..” He reasoned, his eyes trails over to her fingers that are still resting languidly on the piano keys.
Surprise colors Furina's face, he had wanted to check up on her before retiring? The idea has her chest blooming with warmth. Has he always done that? It is certainly something Sigewinne never brought up to her, the thought has a small smile tugging at her lips.
Neuvillette looks at the clock hanging on the wall worriedly, “Does Miss Sigewinne—”
“Don't even start; she's so fussy about everything as it is.” Furina quickly hisses, the last thing she needs is Sigewinne knowing about her occasional solo nighttime escapades. “She'll shoot me down and drag me back to bed if she knows I snuck out."
Furina can stay on her feet for hours now ever since she started physical therapy, her recovery speeding up quite nicely and about time too.
But having cut him off so rudely, her outburst plunges the room into an awkward silence. She forcefully tears her gaze from him, eyes going back to the piano although none of the notes seem to sound right anymore.
Neuvillette seems to take her indifference towards his presence as permission to linger, the man moves to sit on a sofa across from her poised as an audience waiting for a performance.
Right, he heard her playing—the walls aren't thin, he’s just got dragon hearing—but her singing must've been far too soft to be heard. He doesn't appear to be expecting anything, in fact, Neuvillette looks as placid as ever.
And it takes a lot of mental reminders to herself that what's on his face doesn't necessarily is what he's feeling, an important fact Furina often forgets when dealing with the dragon face-to-face. Her hands tremble with each second of their continued silence.
The tension in the room builds up to a crescendo before the both of them break it with each of their own three words.
“May we talk?”
“You betrayed me,”
Neuvillette doesn't flinch but it's a near thing, his body jerks back slightly at her accusation and the guilt surprisingly shows on his face.
“It hurts, you know? How can someone stand in your corner for centuries and still be capable of that. I don't understand." Furina rambles on as she mindlessly plays a random tune, light and peppy unlike the words it accompanies.
It makes for a discordant ordeal, yet she doesn't sound angry, in fact her voice is unusually devoid of any emotion. Af if the notes of the piano is expressing her true feelings for her.
“I…” Neuvillette gulps, not entirely sure because when he wished for them to speak, this is not the setting he had in mind.
With Furina playing the piano as her words cut through him with guilt.
This, is almost like another opera.
Another performance Furina is putting on for him, and yet not really. Because the one speaking right now doesn't sound like the actress she was before…. It sounds like her. Perhaps it's due to their centuries of proximity, he could somewhat tell her words, in this very moment are her most sincerest.
“All those time, I keep thinking, he wouldn’t turn on me, he cares. He doesn’t agree with my ways but I should never doubt his loyalty to me.” Her fingers slams down on a major chord harshly, “Ah but I should have known your loyalty to Fontaine will be greater than that of to me.”
Neuvillette does not rebut, he will not deny her truths as cruel as they may sound in her words. The notes followed are softer, slower in minor chords, “What was I if not a pathetic god that goes along with her people’s whims?” her lips twitch with a smile that looks painful on a face so lovely as hers.
Far be it from him to let her disparage herself in any matter, “That is false, you built the foundations of this nation. I simply made sure it never crumbles.” He finally found the voice to say, to which she shakes her head in disagreement.
“Focalors—Nay, Lady Egeria built the foundations, Focalors simply picked up where she left off…” She sounds bitter, as if admitting it itself is awful for her.
“She couldn't have done it without you,” he reasons once more, the barest flicker of frustration eclipses his mind at the way she so stubbonely refuses to see what he sees in her.
Furina’s fingers come to halt, “You know I wondered, if one of us really had to die…… why couldn’t it have been me? Why her?” she wonders out loud with morbid curiosity.
Neuvillette feels a sharp spike in his heartbeat, “You know it doesn’t work that way,” he tells her calmly as he could despite the roar of grief he feels inside.
Furina laughs, the sound she makes is much smaller than her usual laughter and yet it's less empty than those boisterous cackling that fills the courtroom, the smile on her lips is harrowing. “Oh but it can be, I could’ve been the divinity and she the human. Imagine that? A role switch! Don’t you wonder how that path would have gone?” she chimes in a sing-song voice.
The dragon shakes his head, “No, I don’t need to wonder.” he does not hesitate to say, assured in his words to be true as facts. "Nothing would have changed; it would have just led us back to this very moment here."
Because Furina is Furina because she is human, and Focalors is Focalors because she is divine. Switch their roles and the only things that would have changed would be their names.
The woman looks at him with narrowed eyes and a heavy, placid gaze. “You are so sure….. We are not as alike as you might believe.” she drawls, if her aim was to intimidate him then she’s in for a surprise.
“I don’t think, I know.” Neuvillette claims earnestly, even going as far as to rise on his feet once more. “Was not I the one who met both sides of you? She is much like you, and you are much like her. Two halves that make up this person I revere and respect. You may not have been god, you are not divine even now as you stand before me. It does not make you any less worthy of worship and respect befitting of a god.”
The words suddenly left his lips in stream of sentences he didn’t realise he’s capable of, even the former archon is shellshocked at his proclamations. Her blue mismatched orbs round and wide as they stare up to hi in awe and wonder, the barest blush of pink dusting her cheeks.
The Dragon Sovereign could feel his own cheeks warming at his own words, at how easily they came to him. “To my eyes at the very least." he tacts on at the end, not once looking away from his partner in rule of the last few centuries.
He needs her to understand just how important she is, to him and Fontaine. And perhaps in more ways than just companions and co-rulers of the nation.
Furina ducks her head down to face her lap, the white fluff of her hair pools down and obscures her face from him. Neuvillette is rattled with concern and worry when her lithe frame begins to tremble and hiccups of snifling can be heard, her hands balling into fists so tight he’s afraid of them turning blue.
The sight of her distressed and in obvious grief shook him, the dragon falls to his knees before her, leaning as close as he could without actually crowding her with his larger frame. Hands reaching out anting to comfort her and yet coould not bear to overstep his place, he’s never don this for her but when he thought of how easily Wriothesley provided her this comfort, he can’t help but desire to do the same for her.
“Furina? Furina, did my words hurt you? I apologize for that’s never my intention my lady.” He explains frantically, and what a sight he makes, the high judge of the land unnerved to his knees by the mere sight of a crying mortal lady.
Furina sobs, rubbing her eyes with one hand and muffling her cries with the other. “Why…. why are you saying such nonsense O’Dragon Sovereign? To praise this usurper so?” She sounds heartbroken, and each word that falls from her lips is like shattered glass.
Neuvillette inhales sharply, "Not a word I have said is nonsense, Furina," he assures her, any reservations he had previously forgotten as he gently wipes away his goddess's falling tears with the pad of his thumbs and ignores how painful the feelings that bleed into him from them.
In spite of his reassurance, her tears continue to spill, each droplet that meets his skin sends a bolt of piercing anguish through his body. How can a small shard of something hold so much pain? Her suffering should have been over just as the prophecy does.
“Furina……” he takes her shaking hands, gripping them with a slight force when she tries to pulls away. His heart aches for her, wanting nothing more than to take away this burden she’s still drowning in despite their efforts.
“How can you stand me?! I don’t….” she wails between her choked up breath, her head still hung low as if ashamed to face him. “I don’t understand, after everything you still look at me as though I’m something important. You gave me a blessing even though Seven knows what I’ve done to deserve it.”
Neuvillette bristles at such slanderous statements, Furina is not something and the entirety of Fontaine still standing in existence is more than enough proof of why she more than anyone deserves a blessing.
“How can you look upon me, and not feel resentful nor hatred? What could i have possibly done to deceived you so greatly even now you think I’m worthy of any of this—” Her words are cut off when she is tugged into a firm embrace, a pair of arms cradling her preciously as the sound of a beating heart echoes against her ear.
The rain that follows outside isn’t thunderous, but it does paint the upcoming dawn with a glooming melancholy.
“Please refrain from saying such cruel things of the one dear to me,” he whispers his pleas to her in a voice so soft, for once the dragon finds no difficulty to express how saddened he is hearing her speak of herself so loathingly.
It’s enough to shock her into a stupor, allowing her to calm her erratic breathing by following the steady heartbeat. His slender fingers combs through her hair with obvious care, “How can I ever feel such thing for the one who gave me purpose? Is it not my right to decide what you are worthy of or not?” he reasons with her desperately.
He could not bear to hear another insult against her person even if the guilty one is herself. Furina buries herself into the embrace, she misses the calming scent of sea salt and mahogany associated with the Iudex. A string of muffled words can be heard, completely incoherent to mortal ears but not to enhanced draconic ones.
Neuvillette stills, “Do you….wish for me to…..hate you?” he’s horrifed of the very notion, even saying it out loud is making his insides twist unpleasantly. He could never, even if she asks it of him, Neuvillette could not hate her even if he tries.
And he’d sooner slit his own throat than to even let the thought of trying to do such a thing cross his mind.
Furina sighs, "It would have been easier if you had," she admits, her eyes downcast with guilt.
“Easier?” he sounds so scandalized one would think Furina admitted to a crime than a petty confession of feelings. Her—this dragon, always so silly, so forgiving. Always so much more than she deserves but Furina will still selfishly cling to him.
She lifts her head up to look at him, and what a pitiful expression he wears. Cupping that face with her hands, Furina smiles something forlorn, “You are kind Neuvillette, kinder than this mortal heart before you.” She murmurs softly, these words are for his ears and his alone.
"It is selfish, but if you hated me too... maybe I would not feel guilty for hurting you…" A hand of his found hers, keeping her delicate touch on his face as a frantic expression washed over him.
“Furina, you have never—”
“Oh but I have,”
Furina breathes out a shaky breath, she would not let him ignore her faults.
“You betrayed me that day, but was it not I who betrayed you first?" She speaks, rendering the man in front of her speechless, gaping at her slightly with surpise. Furina almost clicks her tongue in annoyance, did he think she’s oblivious to her faults?
“All those lies and deceptions, you bear your genuine concern and earnestness to me inquiring what secrets I'm keeping to save Fontaine because things are getting dire and it felt like I was deliberately hiding vital information, and what did I do?” she giggles bitterly, and like many human expressions associated with joy hers is anything but.
Her smiles are sad, her laughs are hollow, where humans use these gestures to express joy and happiness, she uses them to show sorrow and spite.
“I laughed at your face and diminished you.” At such claims from her own lips, Neuvillette adverts his gaze then, pulling away from her touch. Even he can’t deny of his hurts.
Furina swallows the lump forming at her throat with anxiety, “I hurt you so many times, but not once did your devotion falter. I was so cruel wasn’t I? After all you knew I was putting a show, yet no matter how loyal and dedicated you were, no matter how much you try to prove yourself trustworthy of knowing the truth.”
He won’t look at her, why won’t he face her as she confesses her sins? ‘Please, please look at me,’ her mind begs to acknowledge her, for him to see her now and still be by her side. A small dark voice whispers in her head, “He won't, why would he?”
Furina’s breath hitches, “I shut you out, every, single, time.” she all but chokes on those words. And only thne did those draconic orbs snaps back to her in attention, pupils wide as he looks at her. The former archon won’t even start to wonder what a miserable spectacle she must’ve looked like.
But she has come this far now, might as well finish the race. “What I endured for a single trial, you endured for centuries. Your betrayal started and ended in the same day, mine began from the moment we swore our oaths together to Fontaine spanning over the next four centuries.”
As much as how this entire ordeal is making her anxiety and fears go into overdrive, she can’t deny it feels cathartic to finally let this weight go. What it left her in the end isn’t even some kind of terror or ugly emotion, as she spoke the last of her confession to the judge, all she felt was exhaustion.
And in her exhaustion she fails to notice the rain outside ceased to pour.
Letting her eyes fall shut, she exhales deeply. “How can you not hate me? When the bigger traitor between us was me all along.” A sentence that should have damned her in his yees shouldn’t felt so freeing.
Furina expects him to pick himself up from the floor and leave, she expects him to maybe say something to condem her but instead she feels his hands gather hers in his, her knuckles is kissed with a soft brush of lips.
The sun is rising and rays of sunlight leaks through the windowpanes, shedding light on the two crouched figures in the music room. Furina blinks her eyes open to a breathtaking sight of her Iudex wearing a soft fond smile at her.
“I forgive you,” He tells her, simple and easy.
Furina gapes, her eyes misty with fresh tears, “What…. Why….?”
As if its so easy, as if it’s no hardship at all to do after the ridiculous tantrum she threw after he cleaned hers and that mirror-her’s mess. She’s not even sorry about it! She’s confessing her faults, that wasn’t an apology.
She would never apolozie for what she had to do to protect Fontaine, rewind time and she would still have done it again, and that’s why she wouldn’t accept any of the apologies she’s given. She did what she had to do yes, but so did they, so did Neuvillette.
It took time, months for her to steel herself to forgive them, and yet here he gives it, freely and easily.
“Because I want to,” the dragon answers her.
And oh she could laugh at that, an answer that is so unapologetically Neuvillette she doesn’t know why she’s surprised. “Just like that?” she sounds hysterical, she feels hysterical.
Yet Neuvillette nods all the same, “I find humans have an odd preception that forgiveness must always be earned. But is it not up to the choice of the one wronged to decide if one is forgiven or not?” he reasons, caressing her hands gently as he does.
“Furina, I am choosing to forgive you, that is my choice regardless if you think you are deserving of it or not.”
Unable to hold back the dam that’s bursting from the emotional turmoil she’s in, Furina throws whatever dignity or reservation she still retained and throws herself at him, “I’m so sorry!! I swear I never wanted to hurt you!! I’m sorry Neuvi!!” she wails, loud and a mess.
Neuvillette embraces her regardless, his eye crinkling with mirth at the old nickname she used to call him in private that he hasn’t heard of her using for months. “I forgive you Furina, for any and all wrongs.” He has always been sincere, but Furina swears that is the most sincere she has heard of him.
She burrows deep into his chest and says, "And... and I forgive you for everything." she honestly doesn’t know what she’ll do if he’s going to keep apologizing after this, relief floods her at his quick reply, “I gladly accept your forgiveness my lady.”
The sunlight bathes them in the quiet morning, the two of them cuddling on the floor, not quite ready to pull apart. Furina should worry about her being found missing when the melusine check in on her and sees she’s not in her room, but in that moment, she couldn’t care less.
“I don't want to lose you,” she suddenly admits out loud, the fear that’s clutching her heart making itself known.
“You won't, never.” Neuvillette remarks, swift to assure her.
She sighs, "It felt like I already did. I lost you in the only way it truly matters.” she says, because they aren’t the same people they were before the prophecy, what they had then was dyfucntional and could no longer work as they are now.
"Then, would you like to start over?" the dragon asks, humming reflectively. “Fontaine has begun anew, perhaps we should too."
The suggestion caught her off guard, but the fact he’s taking the first step forward this time brings an indescribable joy to her. For once, the smile on her face is one that is genuinely happy.
“Start over, huh, I'd... I'd like that.” She says, breathless at how easy it is. Has it always ben this easy? Or perhaps maybe…..it’s just Neuvillette.
Detangling themselves to stand on their feet, Furina clears her throat. “Hello, I'm Furina. It's a pleasure to meet you, monsieur.” With a timid smile and a quick curtsy, she introduces herself.
“Neuvillette, the pleasure is all mine, my lady.” the dragon replies, returning the gesture.
Flustered at the picture of her—the dragon as a perfect charming gentleman, Furina stumbles a few steps backwards and yelps when her hands snagged at something on a table near them. One thing jiggling causing another to follow and tumble, and then somehow it ends up turning a music box open, a soft ballad tune playing.
It’s like a scene straight out of a movie scene, the one where a series of coincidence happen to create a… a… does Furina dare to even say it?!? Romantic atmosphere for the couple to have a moment. Her ears tinted with pink, honestly she’s not this clumsy at all!
They are not having a moment!!
Neuvillette eyes trails towards the music box in recognition, “This feels familiar." he comments softly.
Nope, not at all!
Sheepishly, Furina laughs, "Does it? How long ago it was…..” She’s surprised he recognizes the tune, its the one of the traditionally played songs at formal balls a few centuries ago.
Specifically, its one of the songs composed to be played at his Iudex initiation ball, the one song she asked him to a dance to but is ultimately turned down.
The dragon’s smile wilted slightly, “I refused you that night. I was foolish.”
"Not really; I was still stepping toes in my steps then, hardly a decent dance partner," she says, shaking her head. Which isn’t exactly true, she wasn’t that atrocious at it but Neuvillette had been intimidating when they first met and she doesn’t doubt she would have stumbled.
Neuvillette nods, “You got better,”
To which Furina says, "You did too."
It’s a wonder if they’re still talking about their ballroom dancing skills or….. something else.
Holding out his hand, the Iudex asks her, “If I may ask, is the offer that night still valid?” he sounds shy almost, how endearing Furina could coo if she isn’s also about to combust.
Instead she gracefully takes the offered hand, realizes Neuvillette has not a clue what he’s doing despite that calm expression, and takes the lead to fix them into position. It’s a bit awkward to guide them with her position but they make do, they always do.
It’s a far cry from the ball dance hundreds of nights ago, under the stars and surrounded by fanciful glandeurs as the newly appointed Iudex and the nation’s archon. Now it's just an underdressed man and a lady in her nightgown dancing in a small music room in the wee hours of moning.
“I heard you’re a judge, the highest of the land." she begins to say, her tone much like that signsong way she spoke jours prior on the piano, this time light, unburdened.
Her gaze serene as she looks up to him, the most loveliest of sight. "Indeed, I am." The words all but gasped, he’s hardly breathing properly with how fast this heart races.
“I have a favor to ask of you, to judge those who once aimed to have me judged." She speaks with poised elegance of a performer of an opera, but this isn’t an opera, this juts Furina. “Iudex of Fontaine, Hydro Dragon Soveriegn of this land, will you judge them as they have judged me?”
She has no need to ask, she could have demand it of him and Neuvillette would have caved. They don’t hear as the music stops playing but they kept dancing, the dragon entranced by his lady lulled to think of much else other than the words spoken to him.
“Will you show me justice as you once showed her when you called them ‘not guilty’ for sins no longer theirs?”
His breath hitches as those eyes gaze up to him with an almost divine wonder and is taken away by her next words. Neuvillette isn’t sure how he’s still standing with the weight of such attention and hope on him.
“Will you give me a verdict for my actions towards Fontaine?” She asks, and the face of her divine flashes before him. The same face in a dress of blue and white who asked him to judge Fontaine.
Steeling himself to find his voice, he doesn’t exactly puts on his Iudex facade, merely taking up all the parts that makes him a fair judge. “Lady Furina, the humanity of Focalors. You are charged with centuries of deceit playing the part of a god you were not; in this case, you are guilty.” He spoke in a neutral rather than icy tone he uses in court.
He hears her inhale sharply, her hands that are gripping his as they dance tightens yet she makes no objections. They still danced and this still is an odd way to commence a trial no matter how informal, but somehow, it fits.
“However, Furina, the lovely woman who embodies justice, the selfless person who loves her people so much, suffered in silence to guarantee their future.” He couldn’t help lifting his hand from her waist to caress that awestruck face.
They were never so overly touchy with their fondness, but that was then, and this was now. Upon having his touches welcomed, Neuvivellette is certain the draconic parts of him has only been preening at each contact ever since.
Although how he’ll ever resist Furina when she looks at him so adoringly and nearly beside herself with tears, tears of joy he’s sure of this time, he’ll never know because he doesn’t have to.
‘Be something to her,’ Wriothesley had advised him, if Neuviellte’s more primal desires had its way, he wouldn’t be nothing less than everything to her.
Co-worker, partner, friend, confidant….and maybe one day, in the near future… maybe even a lover if she is amiable.
“The most marvelous actress to ever grace Fontaine’s stage, her opera capable of deceiving even the high heavens. This Furina, mortal and human, is forgiven of her sins.” he declares, voice laced with the authority of hydro.
“Thus my final verdict of her as high judge of this land; not guilty.”
Neuvillette catches her when her legs give out, arms coiling around her lithe frame protectively as she sobs and laughs as if all the pain and anguish before is stripped off her. “And… and what of her sentence?” she asks breathlessly with disbelief as if the reality of things hasn’t sink in just yet.
“She is to live out her life as a human to her heart’s content; she will laugh with joy and cry with anguish, thrive with success and fall with failures, and live as humans do with those who care for her by her side in each step she takes.”
Furina will get to live a life that is free of ridiculous burdens of the divine, that he swore, to himself and the divine she once was.
“Thus is her sentence, live as a human.” Neuvillette smiles as he says it, its the easiest verdict he’s ever given someone.
“Live as a human .... a heavy sentence, that,” Furina muses thoughtfully.
"Very. I’m sure she’d be glad to know this is not a sentence she'll carry out alone.” He reminds her, savouring how she leans in to press herself into his hold, seeking the affection she wants freely without holding back just as readily as Neuvillette is willing to provide her with.
“Very glad; she doesn’t want to be alone anymore.”
“She won’t be, never again.”
