Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

On the stage, you can never afford to miss a single step, forget a single line, mess up a single part of the greater play.

'Tis a group effort, yes, but you are the lead, love.

You are the center, the shine, all eyes will be on you without exceptions.

So do not drop your guard for even a second.

Do not think you will ever be safe from Judgement.

Because the greatest audience of all, the Ones above you and I,

They Will Be Watching.

…

A drop, a sensation of loose disconnect from the earth and all elements. It was a strange feeling the falling girl was not accustomed to. After all, the leaps she had to perform back in her days at the Opera were nothing compared to the height separating a mountain's summit from the cold embrace of the sea. It should have been scary, exciting, terribly sad perhaps, but she felt nothing. The girl had nothing left to fear, nothing left to weep and nothing left to feel. She was but an empty, discarded puppet, good for naught but to be thrown away. Perhaps what meager sustenance her frail body could offer would serve the various lower lifeforms in the water better than anything else she could provide.

It was pathetic, but the idea that she could abandon herself to feed other creatures felt like the last reassurance she was allowed to have before leaving this world for good. Before her fall reached its destination and before the sea claimed her.

There was probably a lot going through her mind, but she could scarcely parse through the rushing flood of five hundred years' worth of memories crashing around the walls of her mind, trying to show her something, anything, in her heart's attempt to stop the inevitable. She could briefly glance at some disparate pieces: a beautiful tragedy she had watched; an argument with the Iudex that ended in tearful apologies, a lonely conversation with the mirror and countless nights of crying. She could see it all, flashing back like a movie reel, yet the projectors were failing and the colors faded. She did not feel a thing, she couldn't, she had lost the ability to.

What did the endless cycles of tears and nightmares amount to? What was it all for, in the end? It mattered little now. The endless flow of rememberance would soon stop too, just as everything else would. As her body makes contact with the frigid waters it would all end. No one else would have to suffer her mistakes anymore, no one would get hurt by her hand.

Furina de Fontaine would make her exit stage left.

Yet her fall had been too long already. Why must the moments before death be so interminable, she coldly thought, not realizing she had stopped moving for a while now. She did not realize the crimson-hued warmth that suddenly flew above her, or the intense, bone-crushing pressure with which her wrist was being held, accompanied by skin-piercing claws burrowing into her flesh. When she finally understood something was amiss, she saw that silhouette which for so long had been Death personnified. Was it her brain playing one final trick before the curtain call? Had the metaphorical grim reaper who would come for her truly taken the form of that detestable woman as one last joke? This apparition even seemed to have fiery wings straight from a children's fairy tale! If she could move her body enough to make her lungs work, she might have let laughter escape her lips.

But it was no illusion, and whether she was the grim reaper or not was undecided. After all, why would Death save the girl who yearned for Her.

“So, you intend on running away in the end? Do you truly believe throwing your pathetic life away will absolve you of your crimes?”

The voice felt distant beneath the layers of muddied thoughts Furina had to battle through to understand the meaning behind these words. Ordinarily, she would have been terrified. Her life hung by a thread, and the spider weaving it was the woman who nearly took her life in the past. But again, she had nothing left to feel. In a nonchalant, disinterested tone, she could only bite her savior back with canines of irony and cynicism.

“First, you come to kill me, then you save me as I facilitate your job. Were you jealous the seas themselves would steal your quarry, Knave?”

“Cease your prattling. You are in no position to judge my actions when nothing you've done has been worth the pitiful bravado you have wielded against me.”

“Then if I'm not worth a damn, simply drop me!” Her voice had gained back a hue of emotion, one of unfiltered rage. Before being scared, Furina's ability to be angered had returned to her first, even if it was mere frustration at still being alive.

“No. You will not escape your sins quite so easily, false God.”

There was something Furina could not quite comprehend in this woman's tone. Ordinarily, she was mild-mannered but biting, and her rage was a cold, veiled one that only peeked beneath layers upon layers of calculated diplomacy. But the Arlecchino still holding her by the wrist, nearly breaking it in the effort, was clearly not the same woman anymore. All pretense had evaporated from her voice in lieu of genuine bitterness, agony and anger.

“You want to kill me, don't you? You've lost something, someone perhaps. Most people have, in truth. Then finish the job, will you? If you announced your deeds to what remains of Fontaine, they might even award you-”

The sardonic venom dripping from her voice was interrupted by the squeezing of her wrist, now visibly bloodied and purple beneath the inhuman grip of the winged woman. Furina felt mildly annoyed that she had to suffer a broken bone before her demise. The little fish might not appreciate damaged goods for a meal. But it seems dinner would have to be delayed as she felt her body move away from the surface, and back to the nearest patch of sturdy land. The Knave made no effort to assure Furina's comfort as she uncaringly tossed her aside on solid terrain, making her ragdoll a good few meters before she could stop her body's momentum and simply lay down on the grass. Despite the aches that screamed through her bones and the pitiful state of her wrist, she made no sound, as if the pain was something she welcomed.

Arlecchino gracefully flew down as well, taking measured yet confident steps towards the girl in blue, kneeling down and putting her clawed hand on that white, delicate neck she could have snapped a hundred times before even trying. This provoked a dry chuckle from Furina.

“So was I correct? You really did want to finish the job yourself, did you not? Go on then, Knave. I'm all yours for the taking.”

“You are once again mistaken about my intentions.” As these words painfully strained themselves through Arlecchino's clenched teeth, her hand began to apply pressure, ever so slight, all the while she brought her unnaturally crimson-colored eyes to Furina's odd blues, devoid of any life.

The former Archon had seen this dream many times before. She used to be scared of death. Scared that her death would spell disaster for all, that it would jeopardize everything she, and her self in the mirror, had worked for. But it did not matter anymore. She had failed. Furina had broken her promise right before the finale. And thus, she welcomed death with an emotionless smile. She could no longer speak on account of the claws tensing around her fragile throat, and thus she could only wait for the inevitable.

“I will not let you die, Furina.”

Only to be met with disappointement.

“The people whose lives you have destroyed, the weight of your own sins under which they now all suffer, I will not let you avert your eyes from any of it. You do not get to run and hide while everyone else tries to survive your mistakes. You will not get to join my children until you have lived through this hell of your own creation, pretender.”

Your...children?

Furina's voice could only echo within her own mind, as her larynx was still otherwise engaged, but something unraveled somewhere in her heart. Part of her detached coldness and disregard vaporized with the shame of her realization: it was her fault. She knew her actions had resulted in countless deaths, but somehow, directly hearing it from a woman as taciturn as the Knave had snapped something in her, and now the tears started to fall aplenty.

As feeling returned to her body, Furina noticed all the little things her mind had sheltered off:

It's raining. I'm cold. My wrist hurts. It hurts so much. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts! Everywhere hurts, everything hurts! Where am I, why did I- why did I try to- what is happening. Why is she here. Why hasn't she killed me yet, why why why why- why am I alive?! And why can't I just DIE. And why did it have to be everyone but me, why did I have to survive? Why...

“W-..hy..”

Noticing the faint semblance of speech trying to come from the jugular she was holding, Arlecchino loosened her grip, almost disappointingly fast. Following the freedom of her windpipe, Furina coughed up a spell, painstakingly raising her body to a sitting position and trying to talk through the choked up sobs she struggled to hold back now. But in the end, no words could come out. She had nothing to say, nothing she could say, and seeing this, the Knave, standing tall above the crying girl, saw fit to speak.

“The Sea. It took a number of the children under my protection. Surely you know some of them, considering you attempted to convict them of murder.”

Furina was aghast. She realized instantly who Arlecchino was talking about. The image of the affable young magician and his silent assistant forced itself within the crying girl's battered heart as she had to accept she would never get to see another magic show of theirs at the Opera Epiclèse. And while she struggled to contain her choked sobs, the grieving Father left her little time to process her words before she continued.

“I am to blame for their deaths. While I raised them to be strong, to shoulder the care of the younger children of the House, I had not realized I raised them to be too soft. The waves took them while they protected and saved their brothers and sisters. I should have more thoroughly taught them the importance of self-preservation. I have failed them as a Harbinger, yet I cannot help but grieve them as a Father.”

“I-I..”

“Stay your excuses. If I sought apologies I would simply torture them out of your corpse.” She lowered her body to meet the messy, crying eyes of the loathsome faker.

“I will do anything I can to save my dying homeland and you will accompany me. You will watch the lives you've ruined, accept the scorn you deserve, and at the end of it all, you will help me bring down the very heavens above if we must.”

Chapter Text

Time had given away its lease, letting precious seconds lose themselves in the current without any clocks to measure them. In this impossible place, merely mimicking the familiar Opera Neuvillette had grown accustomed to, he had met Her. In his heart of hearts he knew – this was Truth, an Answer and the end of a Promise. This was the Finale, yet it was unshakeably bitter. The figure elegantly dancing in front of the Iudex was not the Archon he had spent such long years caring for, yet she also intrinsically was, this he knew. The elegance she radiated was different from the exuberance he came to associate with her, but undeniably, she was the Hydro Archon, Focalors. And in this ethereal nowhere they shared, she just danced, her movements echoing the sorrow she could not let her unevenly colored eyes show.

The Hydro Dragon took one step, then another and yet another. Slowly, carefully, as if scared a gesture too sudden, a breath too strong or a sound too loud would break this dream-like bubble they inhabited. He tried, albeit poorly, to utter words of interrogation, confusion, even obfuscation, but the booming voice that would spell heaven or hell for the convicts of Fontaine was nowhere to be heard. And so he watched. He watched her dance without music, without fanfare and without any spectators but himself.

When the Hydro Archon stopped, she gently held out her hand towards his way, as if inviting him to dance. He hesitated, then obliged. Together, the two authorities moved across the stage, their postures brimming with poise and grace. It was a dance at the edge of time and reality, where creation and rebirth became one, where lay the altar of the sacrifice lost, of the senseless weapon hanging over their heads.

It was the Finale. Their last dance.

Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry.

Why...why did it have to end this way, Lady Furina?

Your Lady is not I, and neither is Fontaine's God. Please, protect her, cherish her. All is not lost, even if this is...my curtain call.

…

Time had been a fuzzy concept for Furina since the events of the Prophecy came true during that blasted trial. She could barely parse through hazy droplets of memories where she had ran as far as her legs could take her, as far as she could, only to wash up ashore one of the many surrounding islands that now dotted the Fontainian landscape. Any kind of high relief, plateau and mountain recognizable before the floods had now been reduced small patches of land floating above dangerous waters, making the terrain almost unrecognizable to the girl who had watched over this very country for the last 500 years. The rain was also pouring and pouring, showing no signs of stopping any time soon and making one wonder how long would these last pieces of earth even last. Furina did not quite know how she had managed to make it so far from the flooded Court, and even less how almost a month had passed since then. She barely remembered a few instances of trying to fish and failing miserably, almost dying on accident before even willing it amidst the Sea's particular properties. In retrospect, she truly had been fortunate, almost pathetically so considering her last act would have been to end this lucky streak by her own hand. But she had failed. She had been foiled, and was now at the mercy of this incomprehensible woman who both saved, chastised and despised her.

What is she thinking? As they made their way carefully across the new terrains of Fontaine, to a destination only known to Arlecchino, Furina started to think more about her situation. She was obviously still rattled from the recent events, but if the Knave noticed it, she deigned not accord even a tiny bit of compassion her way. It's not as if the former archon expected any – by all means, those clawed hands should have closed in on her throat, ending any and all doubt as to her motivations. And yet she wanted her alive? What for? It's not like any information could be tortured out of her, as if she knew anything of use. And what was the deal about 'bringing down the heavens'? Had she gone insane? As if the heavens hadn't come down enough as it is.

Arlecchino suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, prompting the white-haired girl to do the same. A foreboding atmosphere started to emerge, intensifying the asphyxia already surrounding the two women, and as the Fatui very slowly craned her neck to turn her cross-shaped irises towards Furina, she let words of admonishement escape her red lips:

“It is...impolite to stare daggers into one's back, Ms. Furina. If you have questions to ask, pray ask.”

Her tone was glacial, yet her words could clearly be construed as an invitation. Perhaps it was Arlecchino's way of showing courtesy? Or perhaps she simply did not like to leave festering interrogations stew in one's head. Either way, clearing her throat further with a few coughs, Furina took this invitation readily.

“I- I still fail to...understand your motivations.” The words did not come easily. Not only was she feeling incredibly intimidated by her aura, Furina was also still recovering from the pressure exercised on her thin neck. One could, in fact, see the reddish bruises shaped in the form of the claw marks that applied said pressure. But nonetheless, seeing as there would not be an interruption, she kept going.

“You know...I am not Focalors. I am not the...the God which Fontaine needs – the one who had always been needed by its people. Yet you assume I can still save the home I've drowned? On what grounds? Please...tell me.” Her voice was almost pleading, tinted with the fear of not knowing why she had to keep on living. She had failed, horribly so. Her hundreds of years of life had come to a resounding anti-climax, and now she felt like an actress wandering around an empty stage after the curtains had all been drawn. Yet deep down, Furina wanted to hear something else from the Knave. She wanted, against all odds, to still be of use to her people, her nation. She earnestly hoped to still have a reason to be alive. And the Knave's next words crushed that hope.

“Desperation.”

“Wh-what?!”

The sudden interjection had been too strong for Furina's larynx to handle, sending her into a frenzied coughing spell from which she only recovered after a good minute. The Knave, in a surprising show of mercy, waited throughout it all to continue her explanation, wanting the smaller girl to fully be able to take in the information she wished to convey.

“The situation is, frankly, beyond mortal means. In fact, they're even beyond the means of your dearest Hydro Dragon, seemingly content with hiding behind his Melusines, despondently cloistered within the waters we cannot breach – the waters he does not have to fear.”

“Neuvillette...is hiding? No...no there must be a- surely this is a mistake. He would never leave Fontaine behind, that is not the sort of man he is-”

“And yet no one has seen the Iudex personally beyond the few Melusines he sends out to assist the survivors. Quite practical that these creatures are not affected by the Sea either. Their help has been crucial in supporting us through these difficult times.”

Arlecchino spoke matter of factly, without a particular emotion tainting her voice, but Furina thought she could make out a form of disgust at the mention of the Iudex, and it sank her heart even deeper into the abyss. Was Neuvillette truly in hiding? When Fontaine needed him most? Oh, right. So was she, in a way. She had no right to judge his actions when she had done nothing but run from the reality she had caused, in turn leaving Neuvillette to shoulder it all alone.

How disgusting of her to have the gall to be disappointed, when it was all her fault.

“I...see. I understand the Iudex's situation, but I still do not comprehend why I...am needed.”

“I was getting to it-”

She finally decided to turn out, fully facing Furina. Despite the drops of water dripping down her face, she did not seem any less terrifying and powerful than usual, and although her back slouched slightly to accommodate for the difference in size, it did not serve to ease the girl in blue.

“As established, the situation has taken a turn for the worst, and there's not a soul capable of changing the tide. You are the last hope we have, Ms. Furina. You may be a false god, but in the absence of a real one, you might have something to twist fate in our favor. Or at least, thus speak deranged fools too desperate to acknowledge defeat in the face of the Divine.”

“And yet...you saved me.”

“I am a fool myself, Ms. Furina.”

Furina could see something almost imperceptible shift in Arlecchino's traits. Perhaps it was a slightly lowered brow, a curve of the lips or a twitch in her eyes. She could not tell how, but something in the Harbinger's traits had eased, ever so subtly, as she continued to speak.

“While I had given my allegiance to the lands up north, Fontaine was, and still is my home. I do not enjoy reveling in such sentimentality, but this place matters to me greatly. I did not wish to see it in such a sorry state, and now that it's come to this, I do not wish to see it utterly disappear along with its people.”

Silence hung in the air, only broken by the uninterrupted shower that befell the two women. While the Fatui had simply finished what she had wanted to say, Furina was left speechless in the face of the woman's unflinching earnestness. This was a side of her she had never been privy to before, and all it took was sinking the country. Was it childish of her to think that, maybe, if she had come to know the earnest and protective Arlecchino before the ruthless diplomat, they could have had a better understanding of each other? Or was it simply her fear-addled mind making her empathize with this woman who nearly killed her in the past? And now that she had done the opposite, was the balance “fair”? Did she have less reasons to hate the Knave than the Knave had to hate her?

Such senseless questionning. Furina needed to focus and set one thing straight.

“I...appreciate your honesty. And I-I fully understand your desperation. But I'm afraid I will be of no use to you, M-Ms. Arlecchino...” She seemed quite unsure of this manner of address, eyeing the Harbinger to gauge whether it was the right thing to say or not, and since the reaction was at least not negative, Furina continued.

“You may acknowledge me however you see fit – a false god, a pretender to the throne, a mere puppet with all its strings cut. But in the end, I am no different than a mortal, save for the curse of immortality.”

Her words fell heavy beneath the ever darkening clouds and the Knave's sharp gaze, seemingly scrutinizing her everything down to the very breath coming out of her mouth. In the end, she simply turned back around and picked up her pace again.

“Come. We will have time for discussing things later, but for now we need to find a settlement.”

And thus Furina followed suit. Her own self-disparagement still hung heavy in her heart, but she pressed on nonetheless, with the slight, naïve hope that maybe, just maybe, her role in this story had not quite ended yet.

…

Their trek had not gone on for much longer when the first signs of civilisation could be overseen atop a grassy hill overseeing the waters of Fontaine in all their sad glory. As civilisations went, however, this was far from prosperous. Smaller even than the likes of Poisson, this small settlement was but an assemblage of rough-looking shanties and crudely built roofs from a wide array of shoddy materials such as wood and hay. In stark contrast stood numerous clockwork engines and other types of machinery in various states of disrepair, mobilized to the furthest extent so as to offer the bare minimum in what the village could afford to have. There seemed to be a heater beneath a slightly sturdier roof of stone. It was in dire shape, pushing itself dutifully in front of half a dozen people in rags, including many children, seeking heat and shelter from the cold rain and colder wind. In another side, Furina saw a dangerously skinny woman huddling what first looked like a bundle of fabric close to her chest. At a more careful glance, it became clear this was an infant, and the mother, barely holding on to her own vitality, forced what little warmth could still be felt in her own body to protect her child. There were many more such scenes in every corner of the settlement, deepening the scar in Furina's guilt-ridden heart.

Having noticed the two outsiders standing conspicuously, a very young girl, likely no more than 6, clumsily walked in their general direction with a dazed look on her face. Her clothes were in tatters, and the small patches of skin showed an incredibly famished physique which told her story better than she herself probably could. Arriving in front of the two adults, shivering in the cold rain, she shakily held out her hand in front of her, as if asking for something which Furina quickly deduced to be food. While she was deliberating, without missing a beat, Arlecchino put her hand in one of the deeper pockets lining her white coat's insides, and took out a small biscuit-shaped item. She slowly brought it to the girl's open hand, being careful as to not crack it between her well-sharpened claws, and the girl flashed a smile of pure joy while nodding her head as a gesture of thanks before running off, back towards the settlement. Furina fully expected her to simply eat the biscuit right there but she soon saw the little girl split it evenly into four miserably small parts and give one each to 3 smaller children who seemed like her siiblings.

The whole scene had burrowed deep within the former Archon's heart, as her guilt, endless like the flow of rivers, threatened to physically break her in half. It was so much, too much. By her actions, her one mistake, she had left so many to die and doomed so many others to barely survive. In her contemplation, Furina did not notice the raindrops on her face had now mixed with tears, and her knees were touching the muddied grass beneath her feet. She truly was a puppet without a puppeteer, an actress without direction, a god without a mission.

“Do not dare avert your eyes, Ms. Furina.”

The voice she heard above had brought some semblance of sanity back within her grief-stricken heart. The fake god looked above, slowly turning her head for her blues to meet the Knave's reds. In them, she could see...stern rigidity. She could see thinly veiled anger. And if she didn't know any better, she thought she could almost see...pity.

“Even if the guilt becomes too heavy to bear, you must keep moving. It is your mission, your imperative as what's left of the God of this land. You will be a witness to Fontaine's suffering. This is how you atone.”

Arlecchino then stretched out her hand to meet Furina's visage, wet from drops of rain and tears. As she knelt down to better meet the other girl's position, in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture, she proceeded to rub her fingers down the crying woman's cheeks, in a vain attempt to wipe the water flowing down from her eyes. This move was in fact such a surprise to Furina that she could do naught but stare at the hand before her, a mix of shock and confusion written clear on her face. This hand that once deftly moved to attack her in the dead of night. This hand that nearly pulverized her slender wrist when she saved her from death. This cold, menacing hand now offered a comfort she did not deserve yet desperately yearned for. Echoing a familiar scene from a short while ago, Furina could only weakly whisper.

“Why...why do your words sting where your hands caress? Why do your actions betray the hatred in your eyes. Just what do you want from me?”

As these words left the pretender's lips, Arlecchino's fingers stopped. She took away her hand and turned her back to Furina without feeling the need to give but the slightest answer to her questions. This was a foolish, ostentatious gesture that held no meaning, served no purpose. However, it had the effect of surprising the smaller girl just enough that she no longer felt like crying. Perhaps her eyes had also felt it redundant to replicate the grand amount of water flowing down her face from the skies. Nonetheless, she shakily stood back up to her feet, mud now covering her pale legs and knees. She could not even pretend to care about her own dishevelment, opting to let the rain above cleanse her from the dirt, wishing it could take away the sins with it.

Not wanting to take up much needed space in the settlement, Arlecchino lead them further above the hill so as to find refuge from the intensifying rain. One could even begin to hear thunder strike in the distance, signaling that this shower would only get worse in time. They had found their respite within a narrow entrance to a hollow cave – although this was too generous a name, and one would be better off referring to it as no more than a hole in the walls. It would nonetheless be enough to shelter them from the elements. The Knave gestured to Furina that she should go in first, to which she obliged. Her mind and body were both too exhausted to function without directions, and she simply accepted whatever was asked of her. Arlecchino soon followed suit, burrowing herself with surprising dexterity, and carefully bending her neck so as to not hit her head on the very low rocky ceiling.

In the end, both women were now firmly squeezed in this dusty narrow space. At least they were not being assaulted by the endless rain anymore, but it was hard to call their situation all the more enjoyable. There was so little room that they had to sit on opposite ends while taking care to not stretch their legs too far, lest they accidentally obstruct one another. This was not a problem for Furina, who had brought her knees to her head and closed herself in a fetal position. Her mind was a mess, and the adrenaline her body had accumulated was running thin – she would likely lose consciousness entirely within minutes. However, before she could, she noticed a faint, unfamiliar noise flicker in her ear. It sounded like...a lighter almost. One tap. Two taps. Three taps and – a shockingly large spark illuminated her surroundings in a flash, taking her out of her hazed stupor. The Knave had brought into life a crimson flame, no bigger than an apple, which now gently hovered in the space between them. The light was blinding at first, but it soon became mesmerising to the poor former archon who had likely not come across such a source of radiance in a very long time. So she simply stared at it. She let the light penetrate her pupils, let the heat absolve her of her shivering. In front of her was a primordial spectacle, one that had marked the very development of mankind's beginnings – the tragedy of the original flame.

“When morning comes, we will make our way across the Sea. A boat will be waiting us further away.” Without fanfare, Arlecchino had started to talk, her voice almost a whisper in the narrow walls surrounding them. Awakened from her fascination with the flame, Furina looked her way with unfocused eyes, managing to barely grapple on to a sliver of consciousness before asking, in just as muted a voice:

“Where would we even...go to?”

“There is a large settlement that now serves as the de facto capital of Fontaine. I believe you will find its denizens quite familiar, as it is ruled in part by the remanents of Spina de Rosula and their young president.”

The familiar description jolted something in Furina's heart, halfway mixed with relief and guilt. So that affable lady with the good manners and the even greater macarons was still alive! What a boon... Despite her role in the final trial, Furina bore no ill will towards Navia in the least. In fact, there was practically no one in Fontaine she could bear any more hatred to than her very own self. There would be much to discuss, surely, but for now she was happy to know of one amiable survivor of the floods.

Sensing Furina was in a contemplative state again, Arlecchino let a dry cough snap the girl in blue back into attention before continuing to talk.

“As I'm sure you have guessed by now, Fontaine's old governing structures have fallen to the wayside, and with both Iudex and Archon absent, we had little choice but to rebuild things on our own terms. Thus, Madame Navia rose as a prominent figure in the efforts to salvage our country's remains and protect its survivors, allocating all the ressources she could to create a new capital, Nouveau Poisson. I have little to say about her sense of nomenclature, but her actions are to be commended, and I myself have lended my local operatives to her cause.”

“So Madame Navia has become...the closest thing Fontaine has to a ruler then?”

It felt strange for her to say these words. Even if she was a ruler in name only, the idea that someone more charismatic and efficient had replaced her struck her heart with a twinge of bitter shame. But she knew this was for the best. Better a mortal than a useless puppet. There was, however, still a question burning at the tip of Furina's tongue.

“Would you happen to know if...Clorinde is also amongst the survivors?” Her voice exuded genuine worry and a sliver of hope. She was vaguely aware of her connection to Navia and the circumstances surrounding it, and it was her most sincere belief that wherever Navia was, Clorinde would follow. Even amidst flood and death.

But the Knave's answer was heart-breaking: “I'm afraid she has not been seen after the flood, to my knowledge at the very least. Of course, the particular property of the Primordial Sea makes it incredibly difficult to separate those who cannot be found from those who will never be found again, but it would best serve you to not hope for your bodyguard's safety in the current climate. Hope is a fickle creature, best nourished in moderation.”

“I...see.” But she didn't. She couldn't. That woman who had shouldered and protected her for all these years being lost to the waters was just another painful ache adding itself to her heart.

“However,” sighed Arlecchino, having perhaps noticed the sorrow in Furina's eyes, “the president has yet to give up the search, no matter how unlikely she is to find her belle. I told you about desperate fools earlier, and she is one such fool herself. It is my firm belief that those who drown in their sentimentality will sooner see the Sea than anyone else, Ms. Furina.”

While her words admonished, the Harbinger's tone exuded something more nuanced. An abstract shape formed of worry, anger and grief. It was plainly obvious to Furina that she was reminiscing her own children's passing. Was it strange of her to want to comfort her? The intimidating diplomat had once again left her seat to the grieving Father, and in that light, within the small space they shared, Furina saw something so undeniably human in Arlecchino's heart, something which sparked a wish within her heart. An earnest, innocent one.

I wish I could appease her, even a little.

What happened next was truly unbelievable. A small, water-based creature in the vague shape of a squid appeared out of thin air, narrowly avoiding surefire demise from the flame and floating its way clumsily towards Arlecchino's side. At first her eyes narrowed. She was surprised and wondered if she should simply annihilite this unknown entity without giving it a chance to attack. But it was made clear enough when it established contact and simply blew small bubbles towards Arlecchino that it had no malicious intent.

“Ms. Furina, what is this...animal?”

“I...am unsure.”

She truly was. Furina had never seen this bizarre creature before today. Her years of studies on animal biology were telling her this was a strange squid variant, but any other detail simply eluded her. However, despite all the unknown factors at play, she couldn't help but find it absolutely adorable.

“How peculiar. For a mortal without a vision you have got quite the strange capabilities.”

“M-Me? But I don't- what makes you think it is I who created this summon?”

The squid nudged itself closer to Arlecchino's face and nestled in an opening between her head and shoulder, almost like some form of flying cushion, and shockingly the Harbinger let it be. Was she so tired she couldn't refuse this weird form of affection? Or was she secretely enjoying its soothing presence? Furina did not know.

“Simple guesswork. This...bubbly fellow clearly is a Hydro construct. And out of the two of us, you stand a greater chance at invoking such powers.”

“But I've...I've never had any powers. As long as I've lived...as long as I've been Focalors I... never could manifest such magic.” She looked again at the plush-like animal squished on Arlecchino's shoulder. Had she truly created it? But how? Furina had always figured elemental magic was something one willed into being, rather than unconscious manifestations such as this.

Meanwhile Arlecchino carefully scrutinized the squid, then its supposed creator, as if looking for clearer answers herself. When her eyes burrowed into the odd blues of the petite girl, Furina felt oddly serene. She should have been scared of those cross-shaped pupils that once threatened to be her very last sight, yet beneath the soothing atmosphere of the warm, orange-hued cave, in this narrow space cut away from the outside world, in her heart of hearts and for the first time in quite some time – Furina felt at ease before the angel known as Sleep came to take her away for the night.

Perhaps tonight, her dreams will be beautiful.

…

“Madame President, excuse me but I have urgent information to deliver!”

The well-dressed man who had just barged into the shoddily built office – one more akin to a glorified closet with a desk – was in a dire state of exhaustion and dripping with water. Whatever he had to say clearly warranted a tedious run across a large distance amidst the pouring rain and brewing storm outside, and as such the blonde woman sitting in the dimly lit room did not complain about his lack of manners.

“Speak Antone.”

“O-Our spies have caught sight of the Hydro Archon!”

A twitch. A very slight shifting of the woman's traits was enough to utterly freeze the previously casual ambiance of the small space. This was exactly what she had been waiting for since the tides had turned her homeland upside down. Her face was scarcely visible in the relative darkness surrounding them, but the henchman could feel goosebumps run through his skin as he thought he noticed a very sinister shine to his boss's smile. He was not high in the rung, and as such did not need to know any more than simply relaying information to and fro, but even he instantly realized –

President Navia was on the hunt.

Chapter Text

The Abyss – an empty void that stretched on into infinity, ignoring any boundaries constructed by Man and God alike. A hollow sanctuary to all things lost and the violent desire to bring them back, no matter the cost. There was no horizon to be seen so much as the entire space was but an amalgamate of constantly shifting horizons wherein one could never quite orient themselves, and in which many had lost their way. This, the blonde-haired girl recognized, was what her brother was fighting for.

Lumine did not quite understand why she was here again but unpleasant chills traversed her entire body – a nauseating feeling as if she were both trespassing and trapped. Trying to recollect her hazy memories was of no use, like a fog was deliberately obscuring every lead she could grasp on. The only thing she could tell was that her trusted guide was nowhere to be seen. For the first time in quite a while, she was well and truly alone –

– or not. From her blind spot a shadowy incantation made itself visible. It was a strange, foreboding cast that one would not immediately liken to a portal, and yet it was from within such shadows that he appeared.

“A-Aether?!”

“Foolish sister of mine, do you realize now what comes of meddling in the affairs of passing gods?”

It was him. It was truly him. The very destination of her long, long journey, the brother she had lost and scarcely recognized. He was standing right there, his posture conveying anger yet betraying something more sinister she could not quite comprehend.

“What do you mean? Why am I here Aether? I...I've tried finding you for so long, but...I don't suppose you're here to tell me we can go home, are you..?”

“Our home is what I am desperately trying to restore, but the odds are not in our favor, especially now that I have to deal with the consequences of your actions!”

“My...actions..?”

Something in the boy's words made everything in Lumine's mind click, like the satisfying resolution to a difficult puzzle. Except instead of relief, all she felt now was sheer dread. Fontaine had fallen – the prophecy came true – she could save neither the nation nor the struggling Archon. She had failed. For the first time in her quest, she had not been able to help in any way. With little consideration for her feelings, Aether kept talking.

“I see you've come to your senses. Without your intervention, none of this would have happened. You have doomed the nation of Justice and as a result, our every move is under Their scrutiny. And it's all your fault!

He roared, visibly furious and desperate. Whatever this all meant for his plans, it surely was nothing good. In his eyes, beyond the surface, Lumine could take a slight peek at her brother's true feelings – a scared little boy who cried for the home he would never find again. It violently tugged at the sisterly love she felt. She desperately, earnestly wanted to hold that boy in her arms and tell her it would all be alright, that they could find a new home, new friends, new families –

But a different feeling soon rose within the Traveler's bosom. Why were things happening this way? What happened to Fontaine...was it truly unavoidable? Where had she gone wrong? She desperately tried to savenge her memories in order to unveil the slightest hint of an answer, and it sooned dawned on her.

“N-No...no it couldn't have been. Was it...truly my fault? Because I...I-”

“Yes, Lumine. If only you had better heeded the words of that puppet.”

Aether had regained part of his composure and took a small step towards his despondent sister, extending his gloved hand in front of him – an invitation.

“Come, Lumine. It's not too late. We can still fight Them together. We can still claim our home back!”

That hand seemed so alluring, so gentle. In front of her Lumine saw the brother she had chased after for so long finally acknowledge her. Her heart felt so heavy with blame – she needed to fix this. To atone for her mistake and save whatever could still be saved. And she thought, for a single moment, that she could perhaps do that with Aether –

“No. I can't- we cannot reunite just yet, brother. You've said so yourself didn't you? That we would meet again at the end of this journey?.”

She faced forward, staring at her brother's shadow with a renewed strength he could not recognize. His heart sank as he realized their reunion would have to be postponed yet again, but the slightest of smiles escaped his lips. Despite everything that ripped them apart, he still wanted his sister to be strong, come hell or high water. So he was not surprised to hear Lumine's next words, thrown with the bitter confidence of the girl whose growth he wished he could have witnessed himself.

“Someday we'll be together again, but not yet. My journey is far from over, Aether.”

…

Yesterday's rains had yet to cease – it was doubtful they ever would – but neither Furina nor the Knave chaperoning her had the time or luxury to wait for the clouds to disperse. Besides, as Arlecchino had told her, there had not been a single sunny day in these lands since the Flood. One could not simply chalk this up to an unfortunately timed rainy season – it felt like a curse struck the very nation, compelling its grief to rise towards the heavens and fall back in the form of this cold, endless outpour.

It didn't take a very long walk down from the grotto they were sheltered in to find a small motorboat on the edge of the plains where grass met Sea. The vessel came with a clumsily attached glass dome on top, likely to avoid the risk of splashing from the noxious waters they would need to traverse. The two women once again barely fit in this shared space as Arlecchino engaged the control panel and propelled them forward fast enough to send the poor droplet barreling upside down and knocking her head on the glass. Furina was all too used to more comfortable means of travel that left little room for quaking, and was thus unaccustomed to being shaken harder than a bottle of Fonta. And thus they started their nautical journey, braving the treacherous seas on their way to Nouveau Poisson, where more answers hopefully awaited Furina about their circumstances.

While the travel wasn't exactly soothing, the girl in blue soon found something strangely relaxing in the ebb and flow of the arkhium engine's rumbling, and the vibrations would stabilize her troubled heart while the different vistas of the drowned Fontaine appearing before Furina's eyes filled that very same heart with sadness and shame. These were her lands, her nation. She had been put in this role of hers to serve and safeguard all of this, and the end result was simply catastrophic. She almost wanted to blame Focalors for giving her this responsibility in the first place, but deep down she understood any and all blame should be shouldered squarely by her alone. This was her sin to bear, no one else needed to feel this guilt.

Meanwhile, Arlecchino silently focused on helm duty, carefully yet swiftly moving the vessel with shocking skill that made it seem as if she was born into a family of seafarers. Furina wondered if she should even break the silence, not wanting to break her concentration, but there were still a number of questions impatiently spinning in her mind. Questions about the land and its state, of course, but also about her numerous other acquiantances whose whereabouts she was now worrying about. Neuvillette was absent from the public eye, but from her understanding he was at least safe. Clorinde was missing in action but Furina felt unfounded confidence in her heart that she could have survived, somehow. She was by far the strongest Champion Duelist in the history of Fontaine. That her of all people would have been submerged beneath the Flood, Furina could simply not accept. And then there was the matter of Navia, the de facto leader of Fontaine's survivors. Furina was genuinely glad, from the bottom of her heart, that she had both safely escaped and lead renovation efforts. But now that they were heading to meet her, a suffocating feeling came at her throat – she would have to stand trial. The president would not go easy on her, even as amiable as she is, and Furina would have to be ready to accept scorn and judgement. Yet if this is what it takes to atone for her sins, she would readily do so.

In her musings, the petite girl had not realized they were nearing land, being popped out of her thought bubbles only when the Knave's low-pitched voice made itself resonate within the glass dome.

“We have arrived, Ms Furina. We will have to walk a fair distance from here on out.”

Once Furina hopped out of the vehicle, she struggled to make sense of the landscape before her. This 'island' they had come to was once merely a high plateau far above sea level. Seeing it outright border that same sea felt wrong, incoherent to Furina's senses. Nonetheless, Arlecchino started their trek by heading towards the inner stretch of this strange new landmass, with the former Archon following very closely behind.

While they walked, something Furina took note of was the relative absence of animal life. The natural sites of Fontaine housed a number of critters from all walks of species, yet you could scarcely point to a bird or a stray mammal in the grassy plains. Was this yet another one of the Flood's consequences? It bore a pit in Furina's stomach who now had to once again recalculate the victim tally of the Prophecy.

As she was losing herself to her thoughts again, Furina was suddenly stopped by an outstretched arm in front of her – Arlecchino's arm. She motioned for her to stay still as she faced the reason for this stoppage: a few tens of meters beyond stood what looked at first glance like a standard issue Gardemek – a type 1 – standing motionless with no signs of life or energy to it.

“It seems shut off, I wager?” Furina threw out, curious as to what the Knave's careful stance had to do with some unmoving bot.

“Do not be so hasty in your judgement, Ms. Furina. Look closely.”

And so Furina did, still not fully understanding why she had to. The Gardemek was rusty and had its coloring chipped off, likely due to tear and wear occurring as a result of water-related damage. However, on closer inspection, something seemed off about it. It was not completely immobile. There seemed to be something willing it to move, ever so slightly. A very small shift of posture, an imperceptible movement in those mechanical fingers. It all felt closer to a piece of armor someone had been asleep in, rather than an independent robot, and now that someone was slowly, very gently waking up.

Despite the confusion on Furina's face, Arlecchino found this to be the perfect time to take action immediately, right after leaving a few last words of warning:

“Do not get close.”

And off she dashed with incredible speed towards the target of her hostility. As the Knave ran, a strange, unusual weapon materialized out of thin air, taking the shape of a flaming scythe that seemed to vaporize the droplets of rain falling down. With no warnings and no further questions, she brandished her weapon and brought it down towards the unsuspecting Gardemek with strength that could have split the mountains below. Her surprise attack had failed however, and the strange robot had managed to successfully parry the blade with only its arm.

“Tsk,” she had failed her one chance at ending things cleanly and was now forced to take multiple steps back in order to better analyze her situation – Arlecchino would have to fight. Furina stood back and watched in awe as both the Knave's movements and the Mek's resilience fascinated her. By all accounts, that hit should not have been possible to parry, yet the Mek's arm glowed in a strange, blue-ish light, almost akin to a form of Hydro resonance, and she figured that must have been why.

As Arlecchino carefully assessed their respective positions, she went and dashed in again, almost recklessly so. But her body language did not convey haste, in fact, it looked as if she was taking the single most efficient decisions in the heat of battle. She brought her scythe to the mechanical fiend again, still with no avail. This time however, the Gardemek was ready to ripost, and it brought out its terrifying fist to collide with the Fatui Harbinger in a strike that was much too fast for any normal Gardemek to execute physically, nor for any normal human to dodge easily. And yet, Arlecchino felt barely bothered as she sidestepped to her left quicker than the eye could follow, letting the robotic arm to hit the ground and crack the soil beneath it. She did not let this opportunity pass her by as she surgically bissected the Mek's arm through the articulation separating its upper and lower halves.

A horrible, deafening scream emanated from the creature that could no longer even be called a mechanical guard anymore. Whatever this thing was, it was alive and it felt both pain and rage. From where its “face” would have been, a strange opening emerged and started glowing in bright blue, only to violently throw some kind of Hydro projectile right towards the Harbinger. Despite the sudden attack, she managed to deftly slice it mid-air, with a few droplets splashing on her face. The creature once again screamed, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate its quarry, not knowing it had met something that far outmatched its ferocity. With no hesitation, Arlecchino ran behind the Mek, dodging a few other miscellaneous projectiles on the way, and cut its right leg from the very same weak point she had used previously.

All the while, Furina had started to cheer the Knave on, caught up in the exhilaration of watching her dispatch a terrifying foe so easily.

“Ms. Furina, get away!”

Perhaps this was also why she had failed to notice one of the enemy's projectiles was not meant for its adversary, but for her, as it traced a grand arc in the air and was now about to fall directly on the former Archon's head. She didn't quite know how, but Furina intrisically knew. This was no ordinary water. It wasn't just another Hydro attack like you'd see slimes use. No – this was Primordial water. And that water would now fall right on top of her, dissolving her to join the many other victims of her own making. It would all end right here, right now. With no fanfare, no bang, just a pathetic whimper.

“Frost is coming!”

Her time had not yet arrived – It was a sight of miracles. A thin blanket of ice appeared right above Furina, freezing the incoming waters before being completely shattered by a powerful strike. She did not immediately understand who had saved her, but her eyes soon fell behind her where a small, familiar boy stood, heavily panting and struggling to catch his breath.

“F-Freminet...was it?” Still somewhat shocked, Furina blurted out the first words that came to mind as she scratched her memory to remember who this boy was.

Right, another one of the Knave's orphans. And, lest I'm mistaken, the oft-forgotten third member behind the two magician siblings' shows...Oh gods...

The realization cut into her heart like a sharp blade: in front of her was a boy whose big brother and sister had been claimed by the Flood she had failed to prevent. She knew she would have had to confront direct victims of her actions soon, but this still felt like a cruel twist of Fate. Furina had little time to think any longer about it however as the boy wordlessly ran past her and towards his Father, likely to assist her with the still-breathing foe.

By now, any mechanical bits remaining on the creature were damaged beyond recognition and falling apart. In turn, seeing no more use in keeping the masquerade, it shed those robotic parts in visceral fashion and finally burst out from within, revealing its true nature –

“An...Oceanid..?”

Furina was utterly astounded. This grand and beautiful entity, portrayed in many legends and fairytales as benevolent, was now reduced to using mechanical bodies as host to protect itself from anything it perceived as a threat. Was it attacking in self-defense? But then, why would the Knave strike first? Furina tried to wrestle with the rising amount of questions in her mind while the Oceanid had now fully broken out of its shell. Despite its lack of defense, it seemed even more ferocious than before as it let out an ear-piercing screech that left the Knave unmoved yet made the much younger boy flinch.

The fight had started once more, with the Oceanid summoning a number of Hydro constructs in the shape of various animals. Furina could recognize boars, seagulls, squirrels and even frogs. All in all, the two fighters were now surrounded by a good dozen water-based entities, ready to attack them without an ounce of hesitation. Arlecchino moved first, making her scythe sing in the air with grace and violence as it tore the insides of the beasts in front of her. The sheer heat of her weapon boiled the water that made up those monsters, scattering them to the four winds. Meanwhile, Freminet had started his own defense against the beastial horde, making sure to freeze any Hydro-based attacks and the monsters themselves before breaking them down with a few effective swings of his clockwork-incrusted blade, quite impressively sized for his small stature.

But while they were busy dealing with the smaller critters, their Mother had plans of its own. It had quite intelligently noticed that out of the three humans facing it, one of them was far more defenseless and ready for the picking. Before Furina could even notice she was caught in its sights, it was already too late – she was trapped. The Oceanid's faceless gaze focused deeply on her, as if it could see her very core, and powered a hydro blast so powerful it made the earlier attacks look like a mere garden hose. Soon, it was all too close for Furina to even attempt to avoid it. She froze solid.

Is this...truly it? Has my time already come?. I do not know whether to grieve or smile, but I doubt I should be allowed to choose. It's far too late for such musings and yet I- I just- I just wish I could have done more... Arlecchino...why did you choose to save me? Why did you grant me a second lease on life? Even when I had disappointed and failed everyone, everything – even when my death would have amounted to nothing more than a measly droplet in the Primordial sea – you saved me. You may have done it out of a sense of justice, or maybe even sheer spite, but that matters little to me. When no one else would have ever looked my way, you reached out your hand to me. You changed my destiny from the moment we touched. I'm afraid I...may have lost the right to let myself die without fighting back. What a cruel woman you are-

…

When Arlecchino and Freminet noticed the Oceanid's target it was too late for either of them to do much of anything, but they did not need to. As the dangerous blast of Primordial water came closer and closer to her, Furina closed her eyes. Not out of the fear of looking at her own death, but to focus. To concentrate on the deep vestiges of power that dwelled within her. Last night's little trick was proof enough that she had something of Focalors', some manner of strength that she now had to utilize – it was a matter of life and death. As she sharpened her senses and looked inward, the highlights of her hair started glowing a beautiful blue. And before the waters could hit her, Furina opened her eyes – stretched her hand – beckoned the very essence of the Hydro element to heed her call. In that singular instance, the two bystanders witnessed something akin to divine intervention.

In that singular instance, 'Furina' had become 'Focalors'.

The blast of water deconstructed itself, twisting and shifting in form to become an amorphous blob floating peacefully in the air. It was a strange spectacle that beggared belief. Yet the most surprising thing was perhaps Furina's expression. Instead of shock, awe or fear, she was strangely serene, a gentle smile flashing briefly on her face before a single tear felt and mixed with countless drops of rain. And soon, the water in front of her gently dissipated into thin air, utterly bereft of the power it was propelled with, leaving Furina to quietly stare at the Oceanid, who for the first time showed overt signs of fear, and something deeper. It felt as though the Oceanid looked at the being in front of her in terrified worship. Soon enough, deciding that the odds were no longer in its favor, the creature flew away, down into the unforgiving Seas, leaving nothing behind it, save for the bits of elemental energy, and the fatigued sighs of relief that gently echoed atop the grassy fields.

…

...ad...ina...

..ady...rina...

Lady Furina!

The girl slowly opened her eyes, rain gently pelting her pale face as she tried to understand her surroundings. She was laid down on the grass, although her head had been propped up on some manner of comfortable pillowage. This felt nice – maybe she should pretend to sleep in? If only the rain wasn't here. Furina could, however, not ignore the worried stare boring into her core, courtesy of the young boy who woke her up in the first place. Sleep would have to wait, something was clearly wrong.

“Fre...minet? Such a worried look...ill fits a child.”

As she became more cognizant of her situation, she also realized something else was missing, or rather someone –

“Where's...your Father?”

“Um...you're...laying on her...” The petite woman turned her pretty blues above and met the Knave's beautiful reds, her cold and taciturn visage contrasted by the very fact that Furina's head lay on her legs, provoking a severe bout of blushing.

“I will say Ms. Furina, red is quite the interesting color on you-”

“AH! I- UH- UMM- APOLOGIES-” Her mind compelled her to quickly stand back up and dignify herself, but her body refused to obey. Not simply because of the comfort provided by the aforementionned pillowage – she genuinely could not move her muscles by even a single inch. Fear began invading her heart.

“Wh- what happened to me...why can't I move?!”

“Stay calm Ms. Furina, your body simply exhausted itself, likely due to your...actions during our recent fight.”

Furina's memory was suddenly jogged, and she fuzzily started to remember what had happened. As the Oceanid's blast threatened to dissolve her very self, a strange power had manifested within her, repelling the incoming attack and scaring the foe away. In her focused state, she had merely hoped to conjure some manner of shield but this was something much deeper. If she didn't know any better, she would almost call it...divine. The very idea felt absurd. For 500 years she had taken on the role of Focalors as a replacement, a substitute actress that performed adequately but could never have fully taken the lead's place. That she was able to conjure even a single drop of her Authority was unfathomable.

Soon enough, her body had recovered a sliver of feeling, and she was thus able to move and deftly stand to no longer compromise herself in such an embarassing position. Furina still felt noticeably shaken, but she could walk at the very least, and this would have to be enough for the time being. The Knave also chose this opportunity to stand up, paying little heed to the petite girl's bashful reactions, although letting a very slight smirk escape from the corner of her lips.

…

The rest of their trek was rather uneventful. Furina still had a number of questions but on account of her fatigue she quieted them, thinking it would be more productive to ask them at their destination. Meanwhile, Freminet explained that he was out on patrol duty. There had been sightings of stray Oceanids reported near the coast and it seemed to be right on the money. While Furina had not often talked with him in the past, she recognized him as a shy, quiet boy with a love for deep sea exploration. And while his attitude had scarcely changed, Furina felt like something else had made its appearance in his eyes. A form of darkness, darker than the deepest of seas, and the reason was no mystery: the boy must have gone through a lot – anyone who could have survived the Flood would have had to do so - and on top of all the horrors, he had lost the people closest to him and had to embody the role of the eldest in the House. The responsibility that sat on his tiny shoulders was likely unimaginable to most, and Furina felt a wave of sadness and sympathy.

“You did well Freminet, good job.”

“Thank you...Father.” And yet, in these singular moments where he was praised thusly, Freminet seemed to revert back to an innocent child, happy to be acknowledged by the Father he held in such high regard. Furina could tell from this simple exchange that despite the shady nature of the House of the Hearth, their relationship was still undoubtedly that of Father and Son.

Some time into their walk, the trio reached a naturally forming chasm within the grassy hills, not unlike that of the original Poisson, and as Furina peered inside she immediately understood why that comparison had flashed in her mind. A fully industrialized town lay in multiple levels going down the valley, with metallic platforms and structures highly reminiscent of the Spina's former base of operations. There were a number of people out and about, from the familiar and well-dressed operatives to the laymen working on large-scale construction sites, with some kids appearing here and there to run and play around. It wasn't exactly the spitting image of prosperity, but it was a far cry from the earlier settlement they had come across, and Nouveau Poisson seemed truly alive in an era of crisis where life itself was endangered.

Arlecchino descended first, leading the other two down a shabby looking staircase that brought them unto the city's first major stratum where it seemed as though a wide arrangement of structural renovations were being made, although Furina could not directly tell what were the purposes of these at first glance. The Knave's heels echoed loudly on the metallic floor, attracting workers and other onlookers who immediately stopped and stared in disbelief – disbelief and hatred.

It's her! // Lady Furina? // Didn't she abandon us? // She left us to die and now she has the gall to return? // What a joke. // Someone call the president! // Has she come to ridicule us?! // Useless god. You've left us to die! // Pretender. // Go away! // LIAR // MURDERER // GET OUT!

Whispers quickly became speech and speech bled into screams, jeers, a veritable deluge of vitriol and spite directed at the trembling droplet who did her very best to contain the tears rising up. She could not let herself cry. She expected this, steeled herself for it. This is the judgement of the court of public opinion, and she deserved to stand trial – this was her responsibility.

“Silence!” A raw, low-pitched voice resounded as a heavy object struck the metal flooring, shaking the whole stratum and immediately quelling any of the surrounding chatter. All eyes were now directed at the source of the interjection: an imposing woman whose blonde hair was unmistakeable, yet it and her attire were certainly not as fashionable or well-kempt as the days of yore. That same stylish outfit she would often be seen in seemed much too ragged and was now covered by a large, thick white jacket that hung over her shoulders, giving her an intimidating disposition akin to a pirate captain. This look was compounded by a metallic claymore she held single-handedly over her shoulder. The changes her face had endured spoke a thousand words – fatigued traits and wrinkles that were much too quick to appear for her age traced serpentine lines alongside her damaged and wounded skin. Yet the most striking feature of that visage was a hastily put together eye-patch over her right eye beneath which a hideous scar was very barely noticeable. For a moment there, Furina thought she was looking not at Navia, the young heir to Spina's name, but at Callas, the former and well-respected president whose reputation was besmirched in the same mire of conspiracy that took his very life.

President Navia was not bothered by the eyes on her, and quickly motioned for onlookers to keep at it with their own businesses, to which they all obeyed without complaint. After a few steps, the blonde-haired woman was now facing our trio, first staring at the Knave, then her child and finally landing her eyes on the guest of honor. Her expression was stern, difficult to read, but she soon held out her hand to Furina in an affable gesture, signaling that she wanted to shake her hand.

“Welcome to Nouveau Poisson, Lady Furina! I apologize for the...rough introduction. None of these brave folk mean any real harm, but you must understand our circumstances have everyone on edge nowadays.” Despite the subtle bite hidden therein, Furina felt relieved to hear that familiar feeling of amiable warmth within Navia's words, and soon shook her hand in turn. Despite the hardships and the horrors she must have led the people through, that same heart of gold still sat deep within the President's bosom. Or at least, that's how Furina saw it, not noticing the strained tension in the handshake, or the hidden meaning behind Navia's gazing lone eye.

She soon turned to the taller woman, and flashed a serious, but well-meaning smile in her direction while bowing in a polite curtsy. “This is quite the charitable service you have provided us, my Lord! I am once again indebted to you. Thank you for retrieving our pièce de résistance.”

“You may abstain from feigning pleasant surprise – your spies are far from discreet enough.”

The air suddenly froze between the two women. A tense staring contest was engaged, and neither Arlecchino nor Navia seemed keen on relieving the atmosphere from their animosity – a mere spark could have ignited the whole city.

“Father and big brother's home! Father! Big brother!”

Any lingering tension was immediately melted away beneath the chorus of the joyous children's cheers. One, three, five, nine, more than a dozen kids suddenly swarmed them as they grabbed on and attempted to hug the Fatui woman and demure child. Feeling thankful for the repreive, Furina took a big step back, letting the House's denizens reunite with each other. Despite his shy constitution, Freminet did not show signs of embarassment, and patted away at the heads of his younger siblings with a calm smile, while Arlecchino displayed her usual taciturn demeanor, still letting her hand caress the kids' hair, showing subtle but obvious parental love in the best way a woman such as her could. Navia backed away as well, probably relieved by the situation too, and soon came to up to Furina with a few, subtly menacing yet still sweet-scented words:

“We have much to discuss, Lady Furina. Let us move to my office.”

…

The “office” was a far cry from what one would expect out of the living and working quarters of a President. It was a fairly small room with shabby metallic walls, clearly constructed in haste, making it likely that very little means had been put into this place – perhaps Navia did not wish to divert too many ressources for her own personal benefit. Leading the former Archon behind her, she invited her to sit on a small, wooden chair in front of the desk, largest object of the room, behind which was another chair clearly on the edge of collapsing in on itself. Nonetheless, the President still sat down with great confidence, as if the laws of gravity would not apply to her in the event she were to fall. Soon, silence settled between the two figures. Navia was internally scrutinizing the petite girl's state, while said girl was awkwardly fidgeting, unsure of whether she should immediately start asking questions or attempt to answer those which would rightfully be asked of her.

“No need to feel so tense! While I certainly have a number of questions of my own, you are free to ask first. In fact, let's play a game: ask me a question, and then I'll ask you one. Would this arrangement put your mind at ease, Lady Furina?”

Navia truly knew how to appease her. Despite everything, she was still incomparably kind and full of empathy, and Furina soon found herself gleefully nodding her head to the proposal, trying to find the words to formulate a first question.

“I have...been appraised of the general situation by the Knave. Yet my memories of the past month are lacking, and I would appreciate if...you could tell me more about the Flood. As well as what transpired following the- my trial...” Furina's voice was meek and slightly desperate. She earnestly yearned to know the things she had missed – without fully understanding the weight of the situation, she could not adequately begin to mend her mistakes.

Navia's brow furrowed. In her lone eye shone a glint of...something. Was it pity? Disdain? Furina could not tell. But she soon composed her expression and started talking.

“It happened when your sentence was announced by the Oratrice. That you would receive the death penalty was a shock to all, including the Iudex, but what happened next was the real surprise.” Navia's stare soon found itself looking at the void of the past, reminiscing a set of painful memories that she would have rather contained within her deepest self.

“From seemingly nowhere, a terrible beast in the shape of a whale burst forth within the Opéra, threatening to swallow everyone there. Thankfully, Iudex Neuvillette managed to repel it, but it was merely the start of our troubles. Soon enough, from the cracks the creature had come out of, large swaths of Primordial water flooded everything. First it was the Opéra, then it was the Court, and soon enough, all of Fontaine was submerged within the Sea, save for isolated strips of landmass alongside the highest plateaus and buildings.”

Furina listened with bated breath, taking note of every single detail, no matter how outlandish it seemed. Seeing her unabashed concentration, Navia saw fit to continue her telling of the events.

“The majority of survivors, myself included, have the Duke of Meropide to thank for. His large vessels had been posted above water and saved a great number of the Court's inhabitants before the waters had a chance to reach us. It's no exageration to say he and his men are responsible for much of our salvation. However-” she bit into her lip, clearly frustrated at the following words she was about to speak.

“After leaving us a number of those ships, Duke Wriothesley decided to go back to his fortress, using the only submarine at our disposal. It seemed as though he was too worried about his dukedom to deign stay with the rest of the survivors. And now we have no way to reach him until he wills it.”

Furina tried to parse through all this new information step by side, as impartially as possible. The harbinger of the Flood, the Duke's intervention and then his subsequent departure – it all felt like some theater play she was reading a critique of. Yet it was all real, and it was all things that she had missed by her cowardice. If it were possible, she would very much like to converse with the Duke herself, but it seemed as though that would not be an easy option.

The blonde-haired woman waited awhile for Furina's musings to stop and for their stares to meet each other. Once she had her attention, she asked her own first question.

“Lady Furina, I need you to be very honest with me. How on earth have you managed to survive in the past month?”

The words had cut her very breath, and Furina scrambled to put out a satisfying answer. This was no fault of Navia's – it was an important and excellent question, but one which the white-haired girl had no real answer to. Seeing her obvious trembling, the President soon decided to rephrase her inquiry.

“I apologize, I did not mean to come across as rude. You did mention your memory's gaps, it is understandable that you would be confused. Permit me to change my question.” Despite this seemingly kind gesture, her next words were accompanied by a glacial tone and piercing stare.

“Are you truly a fake god? Or is it possible you harbor the Archon's authority?”

Furina was stumped. Cold sweat slid in large drops from her temple and down her chin. She no longer felt this was a pleasant and informative conversation: this had become an interrogation, and she knew full well she was guilty.

“I- I do not think I...do.”

“Please spare me the lies, I am aware of the little stunt you pulled earlier today against that Oceanid. We have had to contend with the hostility of these creatures ever since the beginnings of the Flood, yet none had witnessed one flee in such a way. What else could terrify them than the Hydro Archon Herself?”

She had been duped. The warmth and soothe within Navia's voice had utterly dissipated, if it had even been there in the first place, leaving only bitter disdain in its wake. She was not sympathetic, she merely acted as such to ease Furina into a position she could not easily escape from. And she now had her right where she wanted.

“I- I am not lying. I...for all these years...I really did not have anything of Focalors' save for her throne. I am just as confused about what transpired toda-”

“I said, spare me your lies!” she hit her wooden desk with her fist, nearly shattering it in a single strike, and provoking a pathetic squeal from Furina. The tears she had kept sealed within now threatened to burst forth, but she still did not yield.

“I am not lying!” in a surprising showcase of indignant frustration, Furina stood up from her seat. Her fists were closed and her nails scratched the skin of her delicate palms. She knew deep down she had no right to be angry, that she deserved the spite, but her instincts beckoned her to not let herself be thrown around so easily.

“I am fully aware you have very little reason to trust me! I...I realize I have abandonned my people- my nation. I understand, more than you could imagine, just how much I deserve your scorn, your hatred. But the deception and lie I have perpetuated in the last five hundred years have been drowned along with everything else. I hold no more secrets, this I swear. Please believe me, Madame Navia!”

As a direct reaction to Furina's rising tone, Navia stood up as well, reaching out to the other side of the desk and grabbing the smaller girl by the cuff of her top, bringing her sole eye to meet those of her prey's. She scowled, dropping her facade of friendship and kindness to let her true feelings echo.

“You of all people do not have the slightest right to ask for my trust! I- We have lost everything. From those who drowned beneath the waves to everyone else who followed in their wake, you could never understand the things us mortals have been through. The tragedies you once watched with glee from your ivory tower have blinded you to the real sadness of the human condition. You speak of trust, yet when so many of us trusted you to protect, save and cherish your people, where the hell were you?! You have made utter fools out of us for simply believing our God would come to our aid in our time of need. And yet you never came, did you? You do not get to leave us and expect kindness in return. You do not get to act indignant when you deserve every last bit of disdain. You do not get to choose how the people perceive you, when you've yet to do a single thing to help anyone, Lady Furina!”

The hatred Navia bore against her pierced Furina's heart with a thousand blades. She could not disagree with a single point that was made against her, and the earlier indignancy that swelled within her soon dissipated into void. Part of her wanted to keep screaming at her. To continue feeding her feelings of rage and injustice. To explain everything she had been through herself and that she made no light of the suffering of her people, but she couldn't. Navia was right, Furina had no right to judge her for her anger, not her hatred. It was disappointing to herself how quickly she had abandonned the idea of accepting any and all hatred at the slightest hurdle. In some regards, this former Archon was no different than a petulant child. Maybe it was from this realization, or from the unending verbal assault, but the petite girl could no longer hold her tears as they slid down her cheeks in large droplets, something that was beginning to become an all too common occurrence.

Still strongly held by the cuff of her shirt, which made it harder and harder for her to breathe steadily, Furina suddenly noticed through the mist of her eyes a shift in Navia's, from deep fury to bitter melancholy. The same woman who had treated her with such animosity shed a lone tear in turn, not from her remaining eye but from the scar behind her atrophied one. Her voice was still colored by her intense rage, yet it was now tinged with hues of desperate grief.

“Since you've refused to answer my first question, allow me to ask another. Tell me, Lady Furina. I need to know no matter what – where...is Clorinde? She was tasked with your protection come hell or high water. Surely you at least must have some idea, right?” Furina's own tears abated as the woman in front of her became unable to hide the deep-seated fear and sadness behind the veneer of scorn and disdain she had conjured. Beneath the waves of her tumultous rage, she was still that same gentle girl who had lost so many of her loved ones and wished to never go through that experience again.

But alas, there was no satisfying answer to this tragic question. “I...wish I knew, Madame Navia. I really...really do.”

Navia seemingly realized she had let her emotions get the better of her, and took her hand away from Furina's clothes, plopping wordlessly into her chair like a motionless marionnette. The former Archon was still terribly shaken, but quickly wiped her tears and used this opportunity to make her intentions clearer, carefully choosing her next words: “Madame Navia, I...am aware of the liasion that bound you and Clorinde together. While I deeply respect and care for her, I cannot even begin to imagine how you must be feeling in regards to her disappearance. Perhaps, this is something I will never truly understand.”

A lonely smile briefly flashed on the thespian's face before quickly vanishing alongside the useless line of thinking which came with it. Ignoring her own feelings, she continued:

“But even though I cannot pretend to feel as deeply as you do, I...have a responsibility to my people – to Fontaine. Those who have been lost to the Flood deserve better graves than the bottom of these uncaring seas. Those who have survived against all odds, against the Heavens Themselves, deserve better homes than loose patches of land devoid of life. You were right in saying I failed my duty to serve those I swore to protect, and that is exactly why I intend to mend my mistakes.”

The blonde-haired woman's empty stare fell on Furina who now confidently stood before her. For the first time since they had entered the room, Navia felt as though she was looking at someone who at the very least approached the grace and strength one associated with the Divine. The storm of her own feelings still raged terribly within her heart, but something inexplicably shone in her eye. Despite her misgivings – despite her hatred – she wanted to trust Furina.

“I do not- I cannot expect you to fully believe my words, not yet. The same goes for all the courageous survivors of Nouveau Poisson. But I swear I shall endeavour to assist and help, as an inhabitant of Fontaine, and as representative to the name of Focalors!” Those last few words left a sinking feeling in Furina's heart that she brushed away quickly. Not now. She would have the time to contend with these sentiments later.

After listening to her entire speech, Navia wordlessly stood up from her chair again, making Furina initially flinch, thinking she was due for another grappling bout. Yet no such thing came as the blonde woman simply clapped her gloved hands once while wearing a mature smile, one Furina was not quite able to read.

“I must admit Lady Furina, if nothing else, your oratorial skills have not rusted in the least.” From anger to sadness, Navia had shown a number of colors from her palette of emotions, but this was the first time Furina saw anything akin to satisfaction radiating from her. It left her quite confused.

“W-what is the meaning of this, Madame Navia? I...figured you would still be angry...”

Ignoring the befuddled expression on Furina's face, the blonde-haired woman took the time to recompose herself and her emotions. While the violent vitriol and miserable mewling were still present in her heart, Navia decided to set them aside, and confront the woman in front of her with serenity.

“I assure you, part of me still is deeply angered, and the feelings I put on display were, and to some degree still are, genuine. If you had kept your indignant display without showing an ounce of integrity, things might even have escalated beyond repair.” Navia's smile did not quite reach her eye, sending shivers down the poor droplet's spine. “But I know to admit when I am out of line. I presumed to know of your own hardships, which I'm sure are numerous, and dismissed them in lieu of my own feelings. I've used you to vent my frustrations, and for this I expect little forgiveness. I apologize, Lady Furina.

“No no no, I- you haven't said anything that was necessarily wrong. I've...kept so many things in the dark until now. I've hidden my deepest secrets from you, from the Knave and even from Neuvillette, my erstwhile confidante. However, the promise I've been held under has already been...broken. I have nothing to hide from anyone anymore, I just need...appropriate time to recollect my story.”

The deepening sadness in Furina's eyes spoke of untold misery and pathos. For the first time in 500 years, she would now have to open up about all the things she'd kept so deeply hidden in her fragile heart.

First time...no, that's not quite right, I-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the President's decisive tone.

“I can see the resolve in your words, Lady Furina. You are not the callous, cowardly pretender the circumstances made you appear to be, and my judgement was very flawed. 'Before a court of Justice, all evidence should be considered before reaching a verdict!' Or at least...i figure the Iudex would have chided me so, were he in our midst.” With a slight, sardonic smile, Navia stretched out her hand towards Furina again, this time with far less animosity to hide. The petite girl had little reason not to take this hand, having noticed little hostility left in the other woman's eye. This was a firm, warm handshake that left no doubt in her mind as to Navia's true feelings: she had accepted Furina.

“It will take a lot of time and effort to convince the people of Nouveau Poisson to reciprocate your goodwill, Lady Furina. Their wounds are still open, festering, and we have scarcely the means to give them adequate care. I have been unquestionably hateful towards you, yet others will likely pity you just as little. You will have to work very hard to regain the trust they were left without. Are you ready to accept this burden?

Her tone was one of challenge, like she was putting Furina's resolve to a final, decisive test. But Navia did not even need to hear her answer, as the confident, powerful glow within these odd-colored blue eyes of hers spoke the words within her heart before they could even escape her lips:

“It is not a matter of being or not being ready – I will help to save Fontaine. I promise this, in the name of Furina de Fontaine!”

Chapter Text

“He was nice enough to let me go without a fight but...how do I get out now?”

Beneath the endless voids surrounding her no matter the direction, the so-called Traveler was hardly sure of where to go. Her few light brushes with the Abyss had usually ended in convenient escape routes, but it seemed unlikely that such a thing would happen now. And so, she wandered for hours without meeting a single soul, or finding a single way out. For anyone else, this might have been the single most harrowing experience possible to live through, but Lumine was just apathetic. Walking for so long did not particularly tire her, she was just finding herself fall into a dull lethargy from the sheer lack of stimulation.

“I can't believe I miss that floating little bastard. I need to pay her a nice meal when I get back...”

When. As if it were inevitable. Lumine's conviction was unparalleled, but how far could that really take her? She was all too used to being on the losing side, only to barely itch out the victory in the final few moments. But this usually came from the benefit of having very powerful friends. She could not have saved Liyue without the Adepti, defeated the Shogun without the Inazuman people's ambitions made manifest, and the Baladeer without Nahida's careful planning. All her grandest victories were only the product of the web of relationships she tangled herself in, but in this uncaring void, who would even come to her aid?

For a single second, something seemed to shake in the air. It was nigh imperceptible, but the Traveler's senses, begging for the slightest stimulus, were keen enough to pick up on it. It was...a roar? Or a cry? It was still unclear, but Lumine did not hesitate. She ran full speed towards the source of whatever broke the eternal silence of the Abyss, both out of curiosity and the desperate need to find literally anything else in the barren wasteland.

“A..gh...yo...stard...ght m...”

The noises were getting closer, and taking the noticeable shape of a vaguely familiar voice. But Lumine's memory was slower than her feet, and that voice soon gave way to a figure she should not have been so surprised to come across.

“Of all the people- why did it have to be you?!”

As her run came to a full stop, she saw in front of her the haggard, beaten down body of an all too familiar acquiantance of hers, laying flat on the ground in what could be mistaken for death, but she knew him better than that. 'Friend' would have been too generous – 'Enemy?' Too disingenuous. He was a little bit of both, and something else in-between. He was the 11^th Fatui Harbinger. He went by Tartaglia, Ajax, orange-haired-douche-with-an-attitude-problem, but Lumine knew him as-

“Childe?! Seriously, I could lose myself in a ditch down at the Chasm and I'd still find you there somehow.”

“L-Lumine...? Damn, I must be starting to hallucinate...”

“Cut the crap, I wish you were a hallucination too.”

Her tone couldn't veil the slight happiness she felt despite the harshness of her words. While her relationship to Childe was complicated, he had still proven himself to be a reliable – almost predictable – ally at times, and he probably was the easiest Harbinger to deal with, all things considered. He was in a pitiful state however. The armored suit summoned by his Foul Legacy was in tatters, his mask having completely fallen off, and what skin showed through the holes in his clothing were heavily wounded and bloodied. Whatever had happened to him, it must have been quite the formidable threat to lay this gung-ho combat addict flat on the ground.

Still feeling the fatigue in her legs, Lumine soon settled on sitting next to the limp man, trying to recollect her thoughts alongside her breath. Since he didn't seem to initiate a conversation, she obliged:

“So...who's the other guy?” Childe slightly chuckled at the casual expression, but soon his voice was colored with gravity.

“Definitely the toughest bastard I've fought in a long while, tougher than you even.”

“No shot, are you cheating on me?”

“I'm sorry babe, the distance was just too hard to handle.”

A light giggle came from the blonde-haired girl's lips, soon shared by the boy laying down next to her. It would have been a strange spectacle, were there anyone to see them. But in this isolated, lonely space which they and they alone inhabited, it felt just right to laugh alongside one another with no regard for anything else.

Their brief respite would be cut short however, as tumultous quakes shook the very ground beneath them. With little difficulty, Childe stood up and unsheathed his double-edged blade. The reflexive nature of his movements betrayed the fact that this was far from the first time he felt this shaking, faced this threat. Lumine soon followed suit, and sheathed her own sword, but for the first time, the Fatui spoke with coldness in his voice.

“Stay back. This one's my prey.”

“Idiot, your prey has clearly had enough of you. Let me have at it.”

“No, you don't understand, this is far too dangerous for yo-”

A crack. A break in reality itself. The very ground beneath them broke, and would have taken them in without their good reflexes compelling them to back away swiftly. It shattered the floor. It would soon shatter the Heavens themselves. But now, It appeared before them, roaring with untold rage and hunger.

“Another...Childe?”

…

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

“If we had better means, Lady Furina, I assure you this arrangement would not be necessary. But in our current circumstances...”

While she consciously understood there was no other way, this did not appease her in the slightest, as the whole situation seemed like a cruel joke, or some form of karmic retribution. Indeed, Furina was quite reticent at the idea of sharing her living quarters with her savior, would-be murderer and the all-around unnerving individual that the Knave was. Perhaps a touch offended, Arlecchino rebuked, “I could not hear you complain about such frivolities last night”, an uncharacteristic playfulness in her voice.

“Do refrain from m-misphrasing things! We were in a desperate situation and, lest you forget, I was in no position to refuse shelter!”

The well-dressed man who had to escort the two women to their room had been somehow caught in the middle of this...lovers' tryst? Either way, he found it prudent to leave as soon as he found an opening, not before almost throwing the key in Furina's general direction.

It was set then. The former Archon and the Snezhnayan diplomat would now become roommates, begrudgingly.

In the aftermath of Navia and Furina's confrontation, Spina de Rosula's president made sure to treat her guest with amability and kindness, perhaps in the spirit of apology for her previous harshness. For the first time in quite a while, Furina found herself eating simple, albeit warm and homely food. She then headed for the baths. Fortunately for Nouveau Poisson and its denizens, a fresh spring was located nearby, and the neverending rain worked to naturally recycle its freshwater supplies. She would have to dispense with soap and other such toileteries, but simply removing the mud and grime from her skin was more than enough at the moment. Her thoughts were getting clearer as she became more comfortable with her surroundings, and soon, the scorching guilt in her heart resurfaced, marking her with the shame of this newfound complacency. She didn't have time to idly stay in baths or gorge herself on others' food, she thought, she needed to act, now. How? She did not quite know, but paradoxically, the more relaxed she was the more restless she became. But there was one thing she could do, right now. She needed to have a private talk, a tête-à-tête with the Woman in charge.

Furina needed to talk with Focalors.

Despite sharing this quaint little room with the Knave, she rarely bothered coming in during the day. It seemed she preferred to stay in the company of her children, or occupy herself with other miscellaneous tasks. This was the perfect opportunity for Furina, as she would need all the privacy she could get. The room they had assigned her wasn't the height of luxury by any means, but it had a bed, a roof, some small drawers here and there and a desk with a shabby wooden chair. What was of most interest to Furina, however, was the full length mirror stashed away in a dusty corner. It had some nicks and cracks here and there but it would have to suffice.

She put the mirror with some difficulty against the wall in front of the bed, and sat, observing the figure in front of her intently – she saw herself first. The clean, unremarkable clothes that were given to her while her signature outfit was drying did not do her all too skinny figure any justice. Furina was never the shapely sort; part of the curse she had been given claimed her ability to change physically in any way. But her reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizibly skinny. Her bones felt like they could escape at a moment's notice, while her face was sunken and her cheeks lacked the characteristic puff they used to have. Furina felt like she looked at Death wearing her skin. But this wasn't the sight she wanted to focus on. And so she looked further, deeper into her figure, until she saw an imperceptible glimmer, a change. She saw what, in her now all-too shaky memory, she imagined Focalors to look.

“The Other Me in the mirror...are you there? Can you hear me? Can you help me?”

This was a phrase she had uttered time and time again. When she felt lonely, upset, crushed by the weight of the world around her. Countless, countless times during the last 500 years, when the tears and cries were not enough to calm her down, she would sit in front of her mirror, just as she did now, and invoke strength through the presence of her Other Self.

“I thought...if I did everything right. If I followed through with my mission, eventually, things would turn out okay...” Tears soon came to wet her eyes, and her hands tightly clenched, almost enough to draw the blood from her palm.

“Then why, why has everything gone wrong?! Why...was I unable to protect everyone? Wasn't I supposed to save them? Weren't you?”

“You know why, Furina.” The reflection did not move, but she coldly echoed Furina's doubts and admonishment.

“You know full well why we have failed. You did not keep your promise, did you? You can lie to yourself but you cannot lie to me.” The words she wanted to let out were trapped in her larynx – Furina was helpless in front of the truth she desperately wanted to ignore, yet couldn't let herself look away from it.

“Admit it. Accept it. Embrace it. This is your fault – your Sin. You blame me because you cannot blame anyone but yourself. Face it, Furina. Face the truth.”

“N-no...but I- I did everything right. All this time I held out, I stymied my cries, hid my woes from any and all. I wore the perfect mask, through which no one could peek at my true nature. And it still wasn't enough? What manner of sick joke is this?!” The tears which had merely peeked through her pretty blues were now fully forming and falling down, yet those eyes betrayed not just sadness and grief, but an indignant anger. It was far too much for her to bear, in fact, it had been so all along. But bear it she did, suffer it she did. She sacrificed joy, laughter and her very humanity for her mission, and a single misstep had cost her, and all of Fontaine, everything. It's unfair and oh so cruel, and she still could not find it in her heart to blame anyone but herself.

“It seems I need not say much more. You already know, don't you? You can feel it in your heart, our heart. You know-”

“That you're no longer here? That you never were? How pathetic of me, it's laughable...” but her laughs carried no joy, only sorrow, as her tears fully blurred her vision and a sad, crying laughter made itself manifest through her choked sobs. She was well and truly broken, and alone.

“Ms. Furina?”

The spell was broken, and the woman in the mirror vanished in lieu of the crying girl facing her own reflection. Three soft knocks rang together with the voice that beckoned her, unmistakably that of Arlecchino. Not wanting to show herself in such a pathetic disposition, Furina quickly picked herself back up and wiped her tears, making sure to face away from the door before letting a falsely cheerful “come in” to her newly anointed roommate. This was her room so it felt wholly unnecessary to have to 'invite' her in, but she supposed the Knave was simply respecting her privacy by knocking first. How genteel.

And thus entered Arlecchino in the room, looking no different than she usually does, although her expression strangely appeased compared to before. Perhaps spending time with her children was therapeutic for her? Despite her relaxed disposition however, she was still just as astute, and the lingering sadness in the air was easily noticeable to her.

“Is aught amiss, Ms. Furina? If there is anything you lack I can arrange for Madame Navia to-”

“N-no no, there is no need. Everything is peachy, I was simply, um, meditating...” Her voice was hardly convincing, but she could not muster her usual masking skills with the psychological fatigue assailing her. Part of her was just hoping Arlecchino was socially savvy enough to simply ignore her obvious lies. This was seemingly confirmed when, after a slight hesitation, the Knave prodded no further, and simply took to making herself comfortable by removing her shoes and jacket, before sitting on the other side of the bed.

“If our...sleeping arrangements are problematic to you, I would not mind finding someplace else to spend the night.” Her tone was without color, but her words conveyed a genuine kindness that Furina wasn't quite accustomed to.

“D-don't be ridiculous! You would just bother someone else. You may s-stay here as you like...” She was thankful about her decision to not show her face as her blush would have been nigh impossible to conceal. It was also becoming difficult to ignore the presence of the imposing woman sitting right behind her on the very same bed. Was she truly about to become saddled with these...unnecessary feelings? But soon enough, another question rose to her mind, in a vain effort to let herself think about anything else.

“Tell me, Knave. Don't you...despise me? When you first saved me you made it quite clear that you held me responsible for failing to stop the Prophecy's realization. And I can hardly blame you for it – in some regards you would be correct. But what I fail to understand is, why have you then treated me with such...softness?” She had to stop multiple times to find the exact, right way to say what she wanted to say, and still felt like it wasn't good enough. But after a very brief silence, the other woman answered, almost as if she expected this line of questionning eventually.

“I saw your tears, Ms. Furina.” This was not quite what Furina thought she would hear as a response, but Arlecchino heeded not her confusion, and continued with her point.

“You may not know this, but I forbid the children of my House to cry. It is a sign of weakness, powerlessness, but it is also a showcase of one's true colors. I have found that one's natural tears are unable to lie, even coming from the best of actors.” As her taciturn words echoed in the small room, Furina finally began to face her, curious of the kind of face the Knave made while speaking such words. She looked...grieved.

“I have seen a number of your plays in the past. Perhaps this will come as no surprise, but I greatly enjoy the art of theater and I can be quite the harsh critic. When actors cry, they search deep within themselves for the emotions they need to convey, but most of them cannot fully replicate the tragedies they act out, and as such, their tears never quite feel genuine. But yours did. Whenever you would cry on stage, I admit I would be shaken to the core. It reflected the true, unfathomable darkness in your heart that you masked daily, being careful to not let anyone see while using theater as an opportunity to let it all out. When I nearly dispatched you on that fateful night, when I saved you from your fall, and when you acted for all those years. In all these instances, I saw the same, sad tears conveying the sheer depth of your despair. Even were I to unleash the full scale of my grief and fury on you, it would likely be but a drop in the waters you were drowning yourself in.”

As she finished talking, quiet soon invaded and fully filled the room, envelopping the two women in a strange, unique atmosphere. Arlecchino's expression was still just as difficult to read, but Furina's was far from it. Perhaps, one could even call it unbecoming for a capable actress such as her to cry such a plentitude of tears so easily. But who could blame her? Her act had been pierced, and her isolation had been broken. For the first time, someone had seen through her mask, and Furina wasn't quite sure if it was the best or worst possible person.

Realizing the tears constellating Furina's face were from her own doing, the Knave carefully brought herself closer, and gently wiped the flowing waters with her fingers, in a repeat of what she had done the other day. At that time, it was a futile gesture as the rains above did not allow her face to stay dry, and now, it was a futile gesture as the broken dam of emotions flowing from her heart did not allow her face to stay dry.

They stayed a few moments in this ethereal, dream-like state, before Arlecchino spoke again: “I do not quite know what darkness you harbor, nor the Sin whose blame you bear. If you would like to tell me however, I shall listen without judgement.”

Between a few hiccups and sobs, Furina looked with her still tear-filled eyes towards the Knave's own cross-shaped reds, devoid of the voracity they would usually harbor. This wasn't the Fatui Harbinger who slayed countless in her devotion to the Tsaritsa, and this wasn't the stern Father of the Hearth who brought up her children with a strict, commanding rule. The woman she faced was someone else. Someone younger, perhaps. A kinder, less jaded girl who looked out for her comrades, and earnestly wished to do right by them.

Or perhaps that was just an illusion.

“Are you sure...you are willing to listen to me..? It is no mere fairy tale, and I'm afraid I...failed to write a happy ending to it. It might bore you, dreadfully so. It is a story devoid of ethos, catharsis or climax. It is but a simple, unending crawl from a dream of hope to a reality of despair.”

“Ms. Furina, I alone am the judge of what I find boring, would you not agree?” She smiled a sincere, kind smile. The people who had borne witness to this sight could likely be numbered by the digits of a single hand, and Furina was now one such fortunate soul.

And so, the tearful white-haired girl started to talk. It was difficult at first. She had to deliberately fish out the right words and correct sentences from the mud of her long, long life and the memories she had locked behind. But soon enough the waters cleared, and the torrent of pain and suffering flowed endlessly from her quivering lips to the attentive Knave's ears. She was scared. She feared it would happen again. That opening up would once again ruin everything. Doubts stabbed at her heart and Furina wondered if she was making the same mistake that she had done before? It couldn't matter anymore, surely. The dice was thrown, and the gambit had failed. From now on, she would not have to hold anything in. She no longer had a promise to keep.

As Arlecchino listened intently, patiently, without a single interruption, one couldn't help but see a strange gleam in her eyes. This certainly was not an exciting tale, so what was the source of such shimmering; satisfaction at having her theories confirmed? Some manner of sadistic revelry in these accounts of misery? Or was it, perhaps, because she noticed the slight ease in Furina's features. Her body felt less rigid, her facial expressions more genuine. During her monologue, she was undergoing a veritable metamorphosis, opening up the chrysalis of her emotional toils and emerging as a new woman, finally reaching a start to the long journey she would have to undergo to reclaim her mortality and accept the pain of her past. This was, indeed, a sight Arlecchino had seen many a time in the eyes of her House's children.

“As people cheered and smiled, I grew as proud as I was mortified by this role,” continued Furina, the relaxed nature of her voice in stark contrast with the tears falling down her cheeks. “As I became an icon, a symbol for their hopes and dreams, I realized they saw their God in a mere actor. Oh how many of the broken asked me to fix them, how many of the beaten asked me to soothe them, and how many of the damned asked me to purify them. Yet I was powerless. What use is this water-stained throne when the only Hydro I could conjure were the tears of my very own weakness...”

“I assume our...tea parties have not helped much in that regard?” Arlecchino showed a confusing expression Furina had not yet had the privilege of seeing before. The statement could be taken as a joke, but her voice was somber and her eyes glistened with...was it guilt? Shame? Whatever it was, it felt wholly unsightly for a woman of such stature, Furina thought.

“N-no no, I do not blame you for the way you've engaged with me in the past. You couldn't have known, and your imperative was on protecting Fontaine. It was simply...unfortunate we had to have our differences. As for the matter of out first engagement...” While talking, Furina hastily wiped her tears with sleeve and came closer to the Knave until their faces were mere centimeters apart and their gazes were locked within each other. A long time ago, these red-crossed eyes of hers would have terrorized Furina to the point where she could neither speak nor breathe, but now she could have almost lost herself in their ethereal strangeness. Arlecchino could do naught but wait, immobile and quite confused as to what the petite girl tried to prove with this bout of physical proximity.

Furina eventually pulled back and confidently asserted, “It might be naive of me, but I consider that event forgiven. Especially on account of your lordship coming to this frail princess' rescue in the end. ” A light blush came to color her cheeks and the cheeky, almost childish smile adorning her face did little to hide her embarassement after the words she had just uttered. It would seem time had eroded her acting facade, but it would recover in time. After all, one does not play a role for 500 years without being changed by it forever.

“Are you sure, princess? This issue might perhaps require more careful consideration on your part...” It was Arlecchino's turn to stare deeply into Furina's blues this time, perhaps to intimidate her out of this possible bluff, or perhaps to scrutinize her true intentions. But the white-haired girl held her ground and stared back. Was she scared? A little. But there were too many fears, too many struggles that took the place of her previous feelings regarding the Knave. The guilt, the shame, the sheer fragility of her even existing right now. They became the foundations for a new slew of issues Furina would have to face. There was no spot left to fear Arlecchino in her heart. One day, when the waters subside, and the Fontainian people recover and smile once more, she might have time to consider and discuss the ethics of near murder experiences.

For now, Furina wanted more than anything in the world to trust in the intimidating yet calming figure of the Knave. Despite their tumultous past and despite whatever could be said about the Fatui in general, she was her savior. She could be trusted. Furina believed this from the bottom of her heart.

“I am quite sure, milord. After all these years of hiding secrets and closing my heart to all but my reflection in the mirror, I...wish to change that. I do not want to be the Furina who cried all alone in her room every night, and I do not want to be the Focalors people imagined my performance to be.”

After letting these words sit for a little while, the shorter of the two women, captivated by those eyes that seemed to get redder and redder as time went on, brought her hand to Arlecchino's and held it to her chest, right under her collarbone. The Knave let her hand be guided, even though she still did not know the purpose of such actions, but it would not be long before Furina spoke again, her voice soft and sincere.

“My lord, if I decided to trust you, if I accepted your support and brought out the most vulnerable parts of me, would you uphold that trust? Or would you plunge your claws right into my flesh and betray me? I shan't judge you if you must do so, but pray make it fast and make it now. I do not wish to be stabbed in the back where I can't see...”

It was no small achievement to stun a Harbinger, much less the imperturbable Knave, yet Furina had successfully done so with her performance. Arlecchino vacantly stared for a few seconds before stifling the lightest of chuckles. Quite a rare sight.

“Lady Furina...hah, you most certainly have not lost your penchant for theatrics.” The tension of the scene in which they lay was palpable and to not burst it Arlecchino carefully lifted the hand that was placed on the pale girl's chest, only to brush it lightly against her humid cheek. Was this gesture one of affection, pity or appraisal? As Furina started to become smothered in by the particular atmosphere she herself had helped created, the Knave effortlessly whispered her next words.

“If you would be so cavalier as to trust this sinner, I will make sure you never come to regret it.”

Their hearts had finally connected. They both silently agreed that they got what they wanted, and soon enough, the tears in Furina's eyes were but a misty memory. She smiled, warmth irradiating from her bosom, at the woman whose arms she figuratively decided to leap into. Was it safe? She could not know. Was it dangerous? Most certainly, she was still a Harbinger after all. But did it feel right? Yes. A hundred times yes. Trusting her very being to the Knave was the first thing she felt right about in so, so long.

And now something else clicked in Furina's mind. This scene, this ambiance, this strange bubble they had wrapped themselves in. Wasn't it all too...intimate? They were both sat on a fairly modest bed, close enough to feel one another's breathing and to top it all off Arlecchino's long, slender fingers were gently touching the side of her face. The woefully inexperienced Furina realized all too late that this situation wasn't unlike the many books she had read during her sleepless nights over the last centuries. Wasn't there a situation just like this in one of those Inazuman romance novels?!

“W-wait wait wait! I don't think I'm quite ready to take that ste- AH!”

thud

A comically loud noise echoed in tandem with garish shrieking in the room as Furina spectacularly backflipped her way out of the bed and the Knave's grasp right into the solid, metallic flooring below. Unsure if she should voice her shock or admiration for her athletic capablities first, Arlecchino tentatively looked over the bedside to see Furina on the ground in a highly unflattering pose, and with a silly, concussed expression on her face.

“Hold still Ms. Furina, I will fetch some ice.” And thus she left the room, a strange smile on her face and an unknown feeling in her chest.

What an amusing woman.

…

“Ow ow ow...Darn it all, 500 years on this blasted earth and you would think I could weather a mere concussion without issue.”

The woman formerly known as the Hydro Archon did certainly not display her best showing, laying on her bed with a small pack of ice held to the red bump growing from her forehead. Her fall earlier had fortunately not been all that dangerous, but she still direly regretted her acrobatics and the sudden burst of emotions that provoked them. Meanwhile, the woman partially responsible for said emotions lay on the opposite side, going through the pages of a worn-out looking book with a pair of reading glasses Furina had never thought would fit so nicely on her. Arlecchino would occasionally raise her eyes from the book to check on the poor girl when her moans of annoyed pain got a fair bit too loud, but otherwise they were back in their own personal bubbles, almost as if the moment they shared earlier was a mirage. Lazily pulling herself up to align her back against the pillow, Furina threw out a casual bit of inquiry:

“Why do you still call me 'Lady' Furina at times? I have very little left in noblesse or authority.”

Intrigued by the statement, the Knave closed her book and put it on the bedside table, not before leaving in a bookmark of course. After removing her glasses she looked with a soft expression towards Furina.

“You call me Lord at times, do you not? Yet I am but a humble Father to my orphanage. As it stands, I have as much authority as you.”

“Har har, do not sass me, the fourth Harbinger of the Fatui is as far removed from humble as can be. To be quite frank, I do not know what to call you. Do you have a preference?” Furina's question silenced the Knave for a few seconds. She was the type to be particular about nomenclature, that much was true. She could scarcely count the number of times someone had had the misfortune or foolishness to call her a “mother” or “lady”. They were all promptly singed to ashes.

“A preference you say? Well, to my children I am their Father, to my men I am their Lord, and to those who fear me, I am the Knave. What say you, Ms. Furina? Which of these would you say you are.”

“Gosh, how about a friend? I would hope you have those too. What do they call you?”

“Friend...” Arlecchino soon became pensive. When it came to the people she was somewhat equals with, the Harbingers came to mind, and they all called each other through their code names, which was simply Knave again. However this did not seem to be what Furina wanted, so she simply imagined what an equal with no professional obligations should call her.

“Arlecchino,” she finally decided, “no missus nor titles.”

“Hm...but that's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?” Despite the outrageous nature of her statement, Furina thought little of it and focused really hard for a few seconds, although still hampered by the ache on her head. But soon enough, an idea so perfect emerged from her brain that she couldn't help but vocally exclaim a touch too loudly-

“Arle!”

“I...beg your pardon..?”

“I'll just call you Arle! It's swift, catchy and somewhat cute. Would you not agree?”

“I-” As she began reflexively objecting to this ridiculous farce, Furina's childishly satisfied smile bore a hole in Arlecchino's heart. Was she...unable to say no? It would be easy though, she only just had to refuse. There was no good reason to go along with this senseless tomfoolery-

“Call me as you see fit then, I do not mind.” And yet, those words escaped her mouth without her willing it. What a peculiar feeling. Was she ill? Did she herself have a concussion? Or maybe – the impossibility of this option barely let her consider it – she simply did not want to disparage the happiness of the girl in front of her.

“Urgh...the ice has practically melted, so I might as well sleep this off,” groaned Furina, putting the wet bag on her own bed side table and looking in Arle's general direction to see if she intended to follow suit.

Arlecchino, still confused by her own actions, was awakened from her reverie with these words. It was getting quite late, and she would simply have to postpone the chapter she had intended to finish tonight. “Very well, would you like me to turn off the lights?” Her question seemed banal at first glance, but it was something she often asked the younger children of her House. High was the number of them who could not stand to be in the dark, and while it was perhaps infantilizing to think the same of Furina-

“I...would appreciate that. But only if it does not impede your own slee-”

“It shall not.” She had guessed correctly. Something in her heart twisted itself into a painful shape at the realization that her fear of the dark was likely not innate but acquired as a result of their...first meeting. It was unfortunate, but she would simply have to amend her mistake one step at a time. Arlecchino did not feel as though she owed her this apology, but the nagging feeling inside her told otherwise.

Such an annoying mix of emotions.

“Hey...Arle?”

“Hm?” Once again taken out of her own thoughts, Arlecchino looked at the girl laying next to her on her side, unable to hide the slight shake of her features and the fear in her eyes. Those eyes wanted to ask another question, and her hushed whispers soon followed that want:

“May I...ask for a favor? Feel free to refuse if it will be an inconvenience – in fact just- just forget I asked, I-”

“Ask.” The authority of her voice came not from a place of lordship, but from somewhere more intimate: the tough love of a Father.

“I- um...may I...hold onto you? In my days at the Palais I...was quite accustomed to the company of...various plushes...and uhh...”

“Feel free to do as you wish, although I doubt I am quite as soft as your former menagerie.”

Another indulgence she allowed, another wish she granted. Was Arlecchino truly pitying the girl that much? It started to become concerning, yet she put very little resistance when Furina slowly and shyly held unto her back, trying to wrap her slender arms around in a hug but not having the reach to have her hands meet. The Knave's build was certainly to blame too, with her tall stature and broad back, she was by far the widest plush Furina had ever seen – the thought of calling her that provoked a girly giggle from her. Her shaking started to dissolve and the fear in her heart eased. Who would have ever thought the secret to battling one's trauma was to unfiguratively embrace the very source of it? This apparent dissonance had little time to sit in her mind before the gentle arms of sleep took her consciousness away, hopefully to a land bereft of nightmares.

Feeling the calm, steady breathing of the girl who seemed to not mind the fact that her 'plush' was toned enough to break concrete, Arlecchino could do little but join her in slumber. She had a lot to think about. Concerning their move from this point on, as well as the confusing nature behind her very own words and actions, but this would all have to wait the morrow. For now, she straightened her head on the pillow and let fatigue lead her the rest of the way. If the walls had ears, they would have heard one final whisper gently ring in the warmly illuminated room.

Good night, Furina.

…

In another part of Fontaine's remains, amidst rain and thunder, a lone boy looked over a cliff towards the submerged lands he had left not so long ago in his journey to find meaning and a purpose. Yet his steps had taken him back to his home, not to where he was born but where he was reborn. It was quite the saddening sight. He had hoped no ill would befall this nation after his departure, but it would seem that kind traveler's promises had been for naught.

“What a pity...to think the cataclysm was unavoidable from the start. Perhaps it's a blessing they aren't here to witness this.”

No tears came out of the boy's eyes, not because he wasn't sad, but because he could not cry. Thus, he simply clenched his clenched his unnaturally darkened hand, and gazed towards the waters with a look of grave determination. If he wanted to save his and his friends' home, he would have to fight as well, there was no going around it. Soon, the figure of the boy dissolved and an intimidating monster – a Hilichurl Rogue for the well-learned – took his place. It was inevitable then.

This is not a story of 'Heroes', thus Caterpillar would become a 'Monster'.

Chapter Text

“Damnit, this bastard just won't go down!”

“It's been quite fun I'll admit, but I'm really starting to get tired...”

Within the ethereal prison of the Abyss, Lumine and Childe were caught dead in the midst of a long, tense battle against the monster that had given the Harbinger so much trouble ever since he had been trapped here. The beast was humanoid in nature, armored from head to toe in eerily similar fashion to Childe's Foul Legacy form, the biggest difference being the sheer absence of any other recognizable human features as well as its use of an imposing greatsword. Its protection did little to hamper its speed, as it brought down powerful, lightning fast attacks on the pair with no regard for anything resembling endurance. It was strong, indefatigable, and whenever their attacks did seem to hit the mark, it would simply heal like it was never hurt in the first place. Such a frustrating and difficult opponent was straining enough to fight two against one, so Childe must have truly had a terrible time alone.

“I don't think we can win this,” exhaled Lumine, switching on the analytical part of her mind in an effort to look for a way out of this mess.

“What else do you propose princess?” Childe could barely veil the exhaustion in his voice. His armor was barely holding on after all the damage it accumulated and his own wounds started multiplying the more he fought. Despite how bad of a situation this was, he couldn't help but smile, the fire in his eyes far too obvious to the much less fight-hungry Traveler next to him.

“I know you'd much rather stay here with your prince charming, but can you stop being an idiot for just a second please?!”

“Oh come on, this is the first time there's something willing to fight me for so long!”

All the while they argued back and forth, the bickering old couple struggled to avoid the onslaught of attacks headed their way. The beast's sword could seemingly cut through the very air that surrounded them, maybe even more than that.

“More...?” Something suddenly clicked in Lumine's mind. An outrageous idea manifested inside, so absurd that in this senseless dimension it might just work.

“Childe, listen to me carefully.”

“Ya sure it's time for that? You can confess your love after we deal with our third wheel.”

“Do you take anything seriously you ass?! I'm saying I have a plan so listen to me damnit!”

The order soon barked at him did not immediately make sense in his fatigued brain, but Childe knew better than to question things in the heat of battle, and he trusted Lumine well enough that if she had an idea worth a damn, he would do well to follow her commands.

And so the pair got to work. Lumine directly engaged the fearsome beast at close range, struggling with all her might to not be immediately propulsed by its monstrous strikes. She dodged and parried with the elegance and experience of the seasoned swordswoman that she was. Perhaps she could not match the likes of a certain Inazuman – although she would certainly not mind trying one day – but her prowess with the blade was still very much awe-inspiring. Her joust seemed futile at first; she could barely break the slightest of its defenses, while a single good hit from her opponent would likely knock her down for good. This would be worrying if her goal was to beat it, but she had a scheme up her sleeve.

His frenzy gaining precedence over his fatigue, Childe soon rushed into the fight himself. He was far more cavalier with defense and evasion, taking many cuts and bruises without flinching in his efforts to shatter through the enemy's defenses with his dual blades. This would look like a random burst of haphazard attacks to anyone who didn't know any better, yet Lumine did. Childe wasn't desperate; his every strike, his every move was calculated, just as hers were.

Despite it all, the beast was unimpressed, and repealed with shocking competence every attack that came its way. It made the act of fighting against a Fatui Harbinger and the Traveler at the same time seem like a trivial venture. Perhaps, if human concepts even applied to it, the comfort it started to feel at the state of the fight was bound to be its downfall.

As it readied a particularly powerful strike in Lumine's direction, she put up her most defensive stance, even imbuing herself with a Geo-constructed shield. She was fully intent on tanking that hit, and for good reason too. The sword fell on her and violently clashed against hers, making her every muscle ache in pure agony. It was far too powerful for anyone to be able to take such a strong attack, but she had to, because this is where her plan came to effect.

“CHILDE!”

This was the signal. With the bulk of its weight focused on pressuring the blonde woman's guard, the beast was ill-prepared for an attack to come from its blind spot. And if, despite this, it had the misfortune of twisting its body alongside its sword-

clang

A blunt noise echoed across the endless scapes of the Abyss as the monster's imposing sword had been unceremoniously knocked away from its clawed hands, seemingly at its own shock. When the beast rotated to swing towards Childe, it brought its sword with it a second too late, and Lumine used that delay to focus all her strength in a powerful strike to its hilt, thus having the weapon fly a good few tens of meters away from it. The split-second surprise her opponent exhibited was all Lumine needed to make a mad dash towards the heavy blade, before its original wielder could even react appropriately. And when it realized its mistake, Childe's high speed blows kept it all too occupied to chase after the traveler, who struggled but managed to carry the weapon despite its massive girth.

Her plan's first phase had gone about as perfectly as it could have, but now came the tricky part. One could even call it a gamble perhaps, as Lumine did not have any good reason beyond gut feeling for believing what she was about to do was in the least bit coherent. Her thought process went a little something like the following: this foe was likely linked to the abyss in some way, and so its sword might be linked to the Abyss too. Ergo, one could maybe create a sufficiently strong strike to shatter a rift in the Abyss. It was insane, but this traveler had more than once trusted her gut and came out the other side victorious, so now was no time for hesitation. Lumine held the sword high, as high as she could, and brought it down with all her strength.

“HYAAAAA!!”

A crack. As the ground beneath her feet showed fractures grow and extend around her, Lumine's gambit proved itself to be correct. From the breaking 'soil' – albeit a lifeless one – bloomed a dark, swirling portal. This was their way out.

“Childe! I found our way to esc...ape?”

The sight which unfolded before her eyes as she turned towards her ally nearly blinded her from the horror. It would seem Childe had bitten off more than he could chew. He made the mistake of thinking his adversary would be weaker without its weapon, without considering how truly powerful those fists could be.

Especially as one of them pierced right through his chest and popped out from his back.

“N-no...NO!”

“Urgh...drat-” He could barely get any words out before violently coughing up blood over the beast still holding him above ground. “Run...prin...cess-”

Suddenly, Lumine felt a powerful shock hit her in the back, paralyzing her in an instant. Was it the enemy? But how could it have struck her so fast? No...she recognized the searing pain of this attack from somewhere else. It was-

“Childe, you-”

“Can't let ya...die before...our own final...battle...”

Summoning the last of his strength, Childe had conjured a small Electro projectile behind her. It wasn't debilitating but packed just strong enough a punch to paralyze and push the traveler forward. It was a cruel parting gift.

And as she fell into the void below, the last thing she could see clearly was the smiling, foolish Young Lord, who had never seemed as satisfied as he was today.

…

“Father, may I come in? Madame Navia has asked me to-”

Freminet was a nice kid. His gentle demeanor and kind mannerisms were often lauded by the adults around him, even if his own upbringing did not always encourage such softness. However, despite this, he still lacked in social etiquette and rules of common decency. Rules such as to not come into the room of an adult, much less his Father, without knocking first. This, Arlecchino would have to acknowledge, was a lesson she really should have taught him beforehand.

The scene before him must have certainly been confusing for the poor boy. The girl he knew as the Hydro Archon since the earliest days of his life was grappling, quite affectionately in fact, to his unperturbed Father who voiced no objections. The surprise escaped Freminet's mouth before he could hold it back.

“Ah!”

“...hm?” Arlecchino's sensitive ears immediately alerted her to the presence of the boy, and she was now awake, staring at the frozen deer on her doorstep.

“I- uh- I- please excuse my insolence!” And then he ran as fast as he could away from the room, closing the door on his way out. The Knave was not particularly surprised by the reaction but felt a tinge of annoyance grow as she would need to teach better knocking etiquette before someone more verbose than Freminet happened upon this scene.

This...scene? What even was this scene. As Arlecchino fought to brush away the morning's haze, the memories of last night soon struck her like a particularly unpleasant bug bite. Since when had she been the kind to indulge anyone in such behaviors? Letting the girl vent, reassuring her, giving her word to protect her, that was all fine, sure, but drying her tears? Caressing her cheek? And on top of that, she was now the girl's living, breathing, sleeping plushie?! This was unseemly, and it needed to stop now.

“Ms. Fur-” But when she slowly turned her head to get a better view of the girl stuck to her back, the simple sight of her stopped the words from coming out of her mouth. Furina's relaxed sleeping face was something she had never thought would be so oddly pleasant to watch. The gentle ebb and flow of her breathing lightly moved her torso but it was so slight she almost looked like a statue. Quite the stark contrast to the girl's other facades, whether it was theatrical bravado or anguished sadness. This was Furina in the best place she could ever hope to be, away from her burdens and away from this painful world's sins. Arlecchino did not want to wake her. It felt like taking away the meager comfort she could still find in her pain and suffering. And so she let Furina rest, staring at her peaceful visage until she woke on her own.

…

“I've got a mission for ya!”

Still focused on the half-eaten piece of bread in her mouth, Furina groggily looked up from her breakfast towards the energetic blonde President who had just slammed a number of papers in front of her.

One of the first things established in Nouveau Poisson was a large-scale canteen in order to feed as many as possible within the realm of their resources. Foodstuff was still diminishing rapidly, and meat was particularly hard to come by these days, but the Spina always strived to provide bread, soup and water at the very least. Today's meal was even adorned with valberries. Like two each. Lovely.

It was in that very canteen that Furina elected to have her meals. She felt the stares burrowing deep into her skin, but simply hiding away would be much worse. She needed to integrate herself, to become a part of the people she was accused of looking down on. It certainly did not make for the most pleasant of meals, and without the Knave as a conversation partner – she had swiftly left in order to talk to her children, something about ethics? – she was simply going to eat silently until Madame Navia made her grand entrance, dispelling by chance the daggers stared at Furina in the hall.

Swallowing the small piece of bread, Furina looked with an air of confusion towards Navia. “A...mission? For me?”

“Why yes for you! If you happen to find any other disgraced government official in a quest to claim back her credibility, please direct them to my office.”

Ouch. The President did not mince words, and the almost innocent smile she flashed did very little to ease the wounded pride of the girl in blue. “I...see your point. Please spare me the sardonicisms however, believe me I am quite aware of my unpopularity at the moment.”

Realizing she was not being laughed with, Navia took a seat next to the girl and apologized: “Sorry sorry, you tend to get a weird sense of humor 'round these parts haha...ehm.” She then proceeded to straighten the stack of papers unceremoniously slapped earlier and put on her 'President Face'.

“In all seriousness, there's a number of pressing issues popping here and there, and we are frankly understaffed. I have, however, something special we might need you for.”

Furina's ears perked up. 'Need'. It was such a strange word when used for her. Something deep within her wanted so strongly to be needed that she had already agreed internally to whatever would come next after these words. She thus listened carefully to what Navia was about to say.

“In the recent days there has been an increase in strange sightings all around the city's perimeter and the surrounding isles. Personnel isn't abundant, much less those qualified to take on Oceanids and the like. We want the Knave and you to investigate some key spots and repel any threats if needed.”

“Are you sure you want to task me of all people? Despite my past boasts I am quite useless in a battlefield.”

“And yet you managed to manipulate primordial water propelled by an Oceanid, did you not?

Furina did not have a retort for that. She wanted to rebuke the statement, that she had certainly not done any of it willingly or consciously. But it wouldn't matter. As far as the facts were concerned, she had indeed used strange powers to scare away an Oceanid.

Taking Furina's silence as her cue, Navia softened her tone and talked again, a hint of pleading apparent in her voice. “Look, life here hasn't been all sunshine, and those beasts are a genuine threat to us. I...can't send more of my men to die. You're about the best shot we got of finding a more durable solution for them.”

Furina looked at her and saw in her lonely eye the faintest trace of a tear about to form, only to be chased away in a blink. Despite how hardened the circumstances had made her, this was still the Navia she knew before the Floods. Kind, caring, and devoted to the people.

She would have made a far better Archon.

She brushed off the intrusive thought assailing her mind and answered the blonde woman's plea, “Fine... I'll try my best to do...something I suppose. You said the Knave would accompany me right?” Furina couldn't quite hide away the slight giddiness in her voice, and it didn't escape the President either.

“My my, it would seem you've gotten awfully close as of late. Didn't think she would be your type, all things considered.”

“Wh- s-stay your tongue! There is no such...p-philogyny going on between her and I. I simply trust her to be an effective fighter capable of protecting me! Hmph.” Her pout only further accentuated the very obvious blushing of her cheeks, prompting an innocent chuckle from Navia.

“So you say milady, so you say~ I shan't prod further then.” Bowing her head in an exaggeratedly formal manner, the blonde woman gets up from her seat and addresses Furina one last time before leaving.

“Come meet me in my office later. I'll bring you two up to speed on what your mission will entail.”

And off she went, like a veritable tempest, leaving behind the deafening silence that came from her absence. It warmed Furina's heart to know she was still the brightest shine in any room she entered, despite it all.

I understand Clorinde, you had no choice but to fall for her, did you?

Sad thoughts soon invaded, and images of her former bodyguard standing tall and strong in all her duties came to mind. Was she truly gone? Under these circumstances any rational person would assume yes. Was Navia's confidence the simple desperation of a grieved lover? Or did she have other reasons to believe her alive? Without further investigation and a miraculous clue that would fall right into her lap, Furina was unable to make further conjectures on the issue.

While musing over the sweetness of the valberry she had put in her mouth, Furina also thought back to her morning, as well as the events from last night. She had deliberately put up a mental wall to not die from the embarrassment of it all but now that her mind had nothing else to occupy it, her subconscious inevitably reminded her of how whiny, needy and shameful she had been. Opening up about her past was one thing, but what was up with the rest?? Would you plunge your claws in my flesh and betray me, how she had uttered this line without evaporating on the spot was absolutely beyond her, and then she had to cling to the Knave like a child for the whole night! It was a lucky break that Arle woke up and went out before she could be awake enough to feel shame.

Arle? Oh gods, I did say I would call her that. I doubt I could even bring myself to look her in the eyes...ahhh the shame of it all!

The rest of her meal was mostly spent on trying to eat the remaining food while not dying from the internal cringe of her situation. What would Arlecchino say if she could see the redness of her blush, she wondered.

…

In another part of town, there had been the construction of a fairly large room allocated towards the numerous young orphans, some from the House and others from the Floods. During the day, most of the children wouldn't stay there, opting to play around town or help out the adults with easy chores. However, one of the oldest kids liked to sit in a corner of the room by his lonesome, as he used to do in the days before the End. He would have much preferred the bottom of the sea's tranquil quiet, but the Seas were not exactly a good place to meditate in as of late, so this was the second-best thing.

Freminet was reading a fascinating book about ancient civilizations when he heard the distinct knocking pattern of his Father come from the door, prompting him to close the bookmark on his book, and vocalize a quiet “c-come in”. He knew the time would eventually come for him to be reprimanded for his stupid blunder of this morning, and so he steeled himself psychologically.

“You may relax, Freminet.” The words which came from Arlecchino's mouth as she entered the room were certainly a surprise for him, albeit a welcome one, and the tension in his muscles eased almost on command. It would seem Father was not in a Bad mood. The children of the House had their secret way of gauging how severe their Father would be in any given moment. It was the facial expression, the body language, the way she would walk, clench her fists, furrow her brow, and so on. Needless to say, having been with this Arlecchino since the start of her tenure, Freminet had observed his Father enough to correctly assess the sort of emotional feedback he should expect. However, strangely enough, his Father's current disposition was dissimilar to anything he had ever seen before.

Sitting on a wooden chair close to Freminet's bed, Arlecchino crossed her legs and immediately lost herself in her own thoughts. There was a bizarre mix of annoyance and confusion in her eyes, as if she were struggling against a difficult puzzle, or an unsolvable case. But Freminet felt there was more to it than that, and flashing back to the sight he had unluckily happened upon, it was not hard to put two and two together. Were Lady Furina and his Father...

“Ehm, haven't I told you to refrain from losing yourself in your own thoughts while others are in the room?” coughed out Arlecchino, almost certainly unaware of the irony of her statement. Yet Freminet did not question it, of course, and he put a pin on the conclusion he had come to. It was certainly not his place to question his Father's dealings, whether it was within her professional or private life.

“I- I apologize. I did not mean to. But Father, um...you seem...tense. Is everything alright..?”

Arle was about to chide him again for the needless inquiry, but refrained when she saw his fearful expression, akin to some kind of prey animal. She opted to let him off the hook this time.

“Yes, there is no need for you to worry. Although I would appreciate it if you would knock on your father's door next time.”

“I...it was my mistake. I am truly sorry.”

The Knave's voice had a bite to it, but an almost coy, playful one. Truth be told she did not see it as that great an offense, but it would serve him well to learn this lesson early on. In case the situation behind the door was something that he would be much better off not witnessing.

Why would I even entertain the possibility? As if such things would ever happen. Utterly foolish.

Freminet did not miss his Father's return to the realm of her own thoughts, and he was now certain. Something was bothering her. But before he could think it over, Arlecchino returned his gaze and began talking again.

“I actually came here to check up on you, Freminet, as well as the other children.” Her voice wasn't quite soft, but it was certainly not the harsh, commanding tone she would most often employ. “I have been absent for a few days now, how do you fare?”

“I...the younger ones are doing alright. The rations are more meager than...ideal. But they have been healthy. A few of the older ones are less oblivious to...our circumstances. Some of them cry often, others bottle things up, and yesterday a fight broke between one of our own and another orphan...”

The Knave took great care to listen to his son's report. As she was one of the most important assets in the city, work and chores utterly swamped her, day in and day out, meaning she could not check on the well-being of her children as often as she would have liked. She did not miss the fact that Freminet had omitted an important detail however.

“How about you, Freminet? How are you faring?”

Her gaze was piercing, but the blade was sharp with the paternal worry one would expect from any parent in her situation. Arlecchino knew her children well, and she was quite aware of Freminet's tendency to dilute his own feelings in lieu of others'. In that regard, he certainly was similar to-

“I... I'm doing okay.” A lie. The Father's gaze only intensified, prompting Freminet to be more honest with her.

“I, uh... It's been...hard. I don't want to complain. I know I'm lucky to be here right now, but being the oldest is...difficult for me.”

“Do not disregard your own feelings.” In that same fatherly tone, Arle rose from her seat and kneeled in front of his son, whose body felt like it was shrinking the more he told the truth. He felt small, so small. So small beneath the floods, beneath the dangers, beneath the responsibilities that fell on him. Part of him wished he could also be part of the Seas so he would not have so much pain in his heart, but he paradoxically hated that cowardly, unseemly side of himself that would sooner run away than protect his family.

“Freminet,” began Arlecchino, her expression as soft as one could ever see on a person of her stature, “in many instances, death can be a blessing. In this painful, cruel world, living is the true curse we all suffer.”

The boy was quite shocked at the statement. It certainly did not feel like good advice, but he silenced his doubts and let his Father continue speaking, “You do not need to feel fortunate for your circumstances. You do not need to feel ashamed for the weight in your chest. The grief threatening to shatter you in half, I want you to accept it. Embrace it, harness it, and use it to protect yourself and your siblings.”

She placed a single, gentle hand on her son's blonde head, a gesture of comfort and understanding that made Freminet's eyes go wide with shock. And when he looked up towards his Father, he realized the truth; she felt the exact same way, only in her implacable, taciturn way. She may have been the Father of the House of the Hearth and the 4^th Harbinger of the Fatui, but in that single instance, she was simply a parent grieving the loss of her children.

“Father, may I...hug you?”

Freminet was shocked by his own inquiry. It came from his subconscious observation of his Father. And the response he received, albeit after a few seconds of thinking, came as a surprise:

“Of course, my child.”

…

“Ah, the Knave joins us! Formidable, we can finally start!”

Navia claps her hands and flashes a blinding smile after letting Arlecchino inside her cramped office room. Said room was already barely sufferable when she was alone, but with three people inside it downright felt claustrophobic. Regardless, none in the attendance seemed to mind too much, from the expressionless Knave to the energetic President, and without omitting the fidgeting former Archon, clearly distressed for reasons unknown to anyone else. Indeed, Furina had yet to set things straight with Arle, and felt palpable discomfort beneath her indifferent stare. Under that pressure, she was the first to interrupt the room's silence, if only to save her skin.

“S-so, you told me about a mission concerning the Oceanids? Would you mind elaborating on that, Madame Navia?”

“But of course, it's why I've brought you here after all. First off, take a look at this please.” As she finished talking, Navia handed her a folder of some kind.

Furina scrutinized it carefully and quickly understood it to be a detailed list of strange activities threatening the surroundings of Nouveau Poisson, with a few incidents from other isles jotted down in an annex. Arlecchino also followed the writing in the files from behind Furina, their height difference making it quite easy.

“Oceanid apparitions...a strange hilichurl...human-shaped water constructs..? Some of these feel quite...outlandish”, remarked Furina, her eyes still focused on the folder.

The Knave soon chimed in herself, “Outlandish is putting it lightly, are you sure you haven't fed the wrong kind of mushroom to your men, Madame Navia?”

The bite in her remark would have been obvious to a deaf man, but Navia managed to completely disregard it, and answered in a serious tone. “It's precisely because of the outlandish nature of some of these sightings that I need you here. In the best case scenario you'll find a rock formation someone mistook for a monster, and if push comes to shove you can simply deal with whatever horror you uncover with blade in hand, isn't that right?”

Arlecchino eyed her carefully, quite obviously mistrustful. Her alliance with the Spina was done quite begrudgingly, and despite the imperative to stick together in these dire times, a number of matters had brought the two leaders to butt heads on many occasions. It would never be anything that could break their much-needed partnership, but the slightest of sparks would quickly fill the air between them in a miasma of smog and tension.

Caught in the middle of it, Furina would have ordinarily felt intimidated, but a certain item on the folder captured her attention.

“Water-construct in the shape...of a female swordswoman..? Madame, is this-”

Slam!

As Furina's musings left her mouth, the desk in front of them was slammed with force and anger. The hand that caused this was none other than the Harbinger's, who now stared at the blonde woman with a look of disdain.

“I will not question the way you grieve for your loved ones, but I will not permit you to make us chase after a gho-”

“Silence!”

Before she knew it, and before Furina could even see her unsheathe her blade, Navia's signature claymore stood but a few centimeters away from the Knave's unmoving face. She had done her utmost to not be tempted by the Fatui's provocation earlier, but something had snapped within the President after that last sentence, and she was now looking towards the other woman with sheer hatred in her single eye.

“I have been more than indulgent enough in your lack of respect, Knave. Do not push your luck.”

Arlecchino did not even attempt to stifle her dry chuckle, “Do you truly believe you can make do with a single eye to challenge a Harbinger? Or is this yet another case of utter delusion on your part, Madame.”

To say the air around them was tense would be akin to calling water 'humid', and it seemed nothing would be able to stop them from engaging in a fight right here, right now. Nothing, that is, except for-

“Will you two please act like adults!” Furina's scream shocked even herself, as she expected her fear of the situation to take over and simply paralyze her. But something else moved within her heart and prompted her to stop this kettle from boiling over before it was too late. She first faced Navia –

“You are the President for Gods' sake. You need to be reasonable here! Picking up fights you can't possibly win will avail us to naught! As for you-” she then turned her head towards the unflinching Knave, wildly pointing her finger in her direction. “Stop provoking her more than you already have! I thought you were a Father, not a godsdamned teenager! If you two cannot keep yourselves from fighting like toddlers we will all drown soon, why can you not see that?!

Out of breath yet holding on from the red-hot anger she felt, Furina stopped and stared at the two women who felt quite embarrassed at this juncture. Navia unsheathed her blade and Arlecchino loosened her muscles, no longer willing to attack. A long silence ensued, filling the room in an awkward mix of noises from the outside and Furina's rapid breathing which had yet to recover from her outburst.

In the end, Navia was the first to speak, “I know...how this may look to you. But that report was corroborated by a good number of eyewitnesses. This isn't just me being desperate, milord. I implore you to trust me in that regard at the very least.” Her voice exuded truthfulness and pleading. Even in spite of her biases, it was painfully clear to the Harbinger that Navia was sincere, and thus she simply let out a fatigued sigh and apologized: “Pray forgive me, I was out of line. We will seek out these sightings posthaste.”

After making their collaboration clear, the President and the Knave exchanged one last look of conflicted understanding, before the latter left the room entirely, with Furina following suit right behind her. Now alone in the small office, Navia plopped down on her seat and chastised herself internally for once again losing control of her emotions. This had been an all-too common occurrence in the last month, whether it was towards her men, the citizenry and even Furina yesterday, she was far too quick to anger. One could explain it away by evoking the sheer weight of her responsibilities, but Navia would have rather died than justify her own failings. She simply needed to do better. For everyone. For her.

Outside the room, the taciturn woman and flustered girl walked at an uncomfortable distance that neither shrunk nor grew. The tension between them was obvious, in part due to the earlier bout of screaming, but also because of the jumbled mess that their perception of the other had now become. Was it strange to cling to the back of a woman you would struggle to even call a friend? Then it must have been equally bizarre to accept a woman's need to cling unto your back despite wishing her harm until very recently. If they weren't friends nor foes, what even were they?

“Ms. Furina.”

The Knave abruptly stopped, prompting the white-haired girl behind her to do the same. She stood frozen solid, waiting for whatever it was that Arlecchino wanted to say to quickly come and deal its damage. Perhaps it was a bad habit to always expect the worst from people, but Furina could not help it. Arlecchino turned to face her, her usual emotionless look conflicting with the words she was about to say: “Are you upset with me...by any chance?”

The question felt shockingly humble from the mouth of a Harbinger, much less this one, and Furina didn't know exactly how to process it at first, but her response came quick: “How astute of you, indeed I am. I expected the all-powerful Arlecchino to be a touch more mature, but then again the President was no better. Why, it strikes me as quite miraculous that you've not killed one another in the past month!”

As absurd as it seemed on paper, the terrifying Harbinger was indeed being chided like a parent would chide her misbehaving teenager. The number of people on Teyvat who could chew out the Knave and get away with it likely numbered lower than the digits of her interrogation victims, yet now she was at the receiving end of a verbal joust from a girl 2/3rds her size.

“Ms. Furina,” she started, trying to not lose her cool, “I...appreciate your candid opinion of me, and do apologize for my...behavior.” Was she...just taking this without a retort? By virtue of their talk last night they were supposed to be equals, and she understood she was in the wrong, but surely the Great Arlecchino was never meant to stoop so low as to accept such insolence...was she?

Furina took great care to scrutinize Arle's answer and accepted it as genuine. “I suppose I can let you off the hook for now. Still be careful, I can't have you lash out when...you're still meant to protect me.” Following these words she quickly stepped ahead of the other woman, most likely in an effort to conceal the slightly blushed expression of her face.

Since when did you even gain the authority to 'hook' me, thought the all-too subservient Knave, but she felt a playful joy in watching the girl's bashful showing. Something about her smile lodged itself deep within the dark crevices of her frozen heart, unable to be taken out. Perhaps she was in need to be taken out if she kept having such strange feelings hamper her everyday life, but for now she would let it be.

As they continued to walk towards the end of the hallway, Furina spoke again, her voice almost a whisper. It's like she was talking to the dust in the air, or the paint drying on the walls, but her audience was well and truly the woman behind her.

“I...I feel the need to apologize too. For yesterday. I-I shouldn't have been so...so-”

“Overindulgent perhaps?”

Urgh, she truly had ripped the word right from her throat. And if she realized this much, then it meant she felt the same.

“Do not misunderstand, everything I did last night was of my own accord. As you may be aware, I am known to be a strict father, and would thus not dare indulge anyone where they do not deserve to be.”

“Deserve..?” It was the white-haired girl's turn to be surprised. She certainly did not feel she 'deserved' to indulge in anyone's kindness, much less Arlecchino's.

“To put it another way,” continued the Knave, “it is my way of making up for past mistakes. Nothing more, nothing less. So do not feel guilt in having accepted kindness from me, in the end it is a kindness I should have bequeathed unto you far earlier.” She herself took a few more steps to place herself directly next to Furina, who was at a loss for words.

Was all this just her way of making amends? Furina felt as relieved as she was disappointed, although she could not even understand why. It was relief at not having forced anything unto the Knave. In the end she had been as kind as she was entirely of her own volition. But why was it also disappointment? Was she hoping, deep down, that there were other motives behind these actions? She should have felt thankful in fact, but something snagged within the jagged edges of her heart's cage, threatening to tear itself apart and break into her blood stream.

Why am I feeling so...grieved? This should be the best outcome, I do not need to feel ashamed in front of her, and yet...

“Furina?”

“Eh?! O-oh, were you...saying something?”

Shaken awake from her confused inner dialogue, Furina looked up at the Knave's strangely worried eyes. Were these crosses always so...gentle, she wondered, before putting up her brightest stage smile. Those strange musings would have to be killed before she got any stranger ideas, and for now, it would suffice to simply set things straight with Ar-

“Such a fake smile ill fits you.”

“Ah. Hahaha...w-whatever do you mean?”

“Furina.”

It was no use. The tricks and facades she had honed for the last 500 years were utterly useless when faced with Arlecchino's intelligent and well-trained eyes. It was her that pierced through her tears after all, so it should not have been surprising that she was also the one to pierce through her smile.

It was unfair. Where else could she hide now? What else could she use to shield herself from the pain of the world?

“I...I'm just...I don't have anything else, Arle. Beneath my well-fashioned masks I am but a pathetic little girl, you've seen it for yourself yesternight. What else do you expect out of this sad fool?” Tears soon began to form anew on a face that had done such a fine job of staying dry for merely the first half of the day, but they did not last. In a flash, Furina found herself pushed towards the taller woman's bosom, with arms wrapped around her back and utter confusion invading her mind. She slowly understood she was being hugged, and not kidnapped.

“My children ask of me to hug them on occasion. It is not something I particularly enjoy but, it seems useful in quelling their tears. Forgive me if I am going out of li-”

“Just shut up for a second.” As she whispered these words, Furina's own arms came to embrace Arle, locking them in a bubble of their own for what felt like hours, but was merely a few 10s of seconds at best. It was strange, truly baffling. She should not have been enjoying this. This was the woman who almost killed her, who only recently put the onus of her grief squarely on her shivering shoulders. Yet this woman had apologized, explained herself. Furina could not find it in her heart to blame or hate her, thus she reveled in the comfort her embrace provided, no matter how absurd.

Arle herself was simply emulating what she had done with Freminet earlier, even though it wasn't her who initiated it at that time. Of course, she did not have the emotional savviness to realize her child had not simply hugged her out of need, but also out of the genuine desire to console her. Perhaps one day she would understand, but for now she simply wished to whisk away the petite girl's tears.

They soon separated, their gazes locking into each other's. Arle's eyes had the same cold air to them, but with the slightest hint of this bizarre, wordless kindness that Furina had come to understand was her way of showing affection. Meanwhile, her own eyes were misty from the tears that nearly fell from them, but they smiled, and her lips smiled too. In fact, every single part of her visage was smiling with a radiance she had seldom felt in a very, very long time.

To show a smile devoid of lies – what a beautiful privilege this was for Furina.

…

“Big brother, big brother! Are you coming to play?”

“M-me? Uh, yeah, sure. Just...give me a minute and I'll be right there.”

The little girl took this answer with glee and swiftly rushed out the door, leaving it slightly ajar. He would once again not have much time of his own, but this was fine. It was necessary. That's what he would have wanted, that's what she would have done. He could never have been half the eldest sibling they were, but he would nonetheless do his best. He simply had no other choice.

Scrambling through his pockets he fished out two shiny gems that he most certainly should never have been in possession of. If his Father knew, the sentence would have surely been severe, yet it was these that gave him the strength to continue moving forward. A beautiful emerald-colored stone; a striking velvet-colored gem. The collective ambitions and aspirations of the brother and sister he could not protect; their Visions. It was a foolish thought, his Father would have said, but Freminet imagined that deep down, part of those ambitions still lived within the stones. That Lyney and Lynette still guided him from wherever they were now.

After drying a single tear before it could fall on the ground, he put the gems back in his pocket and went outside, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

A drop, a sensation of loose disconnect from the earth and all elements. But soon followed the impact. The bone-shattering pain, the soul-crushing cold and the vivid feeling of drowning all came instantly. Was this death? Or something far less merciful? She did not know. She could not know. She neither had the awareness nor the strength to process her slow, slow descent into darkness. She would not just die here, she would disappear from being. Her entire existence would become naught but a patch of infertile soil upon which even the flowers of grief would never bloom.

And yet, in her final suffocated breaths, the girl recovered a sliver, a mere discarded shard of consciousness found life within her mind. One last thought. One last regret.

I couldn't save anyone.

From that one regret bloomed another, and another, and another. Soon enough, the girl's mind had become a beautiful garden of heartbreaks and grief. A repository for the hopes she had failed, and the dreams she had lost.

I couldn't save Furina. I couldn't protect Childe. I couldn't stop the Prophecy.

I couldn't...prove him I was strong enough...

Was the path I chose wrong? Was it so all along? Why...why have I been fighting all this time?

The garden grew with no end in sight. It grew twofold, fivefold, tenfold. One could not look towards the horizon without seeing her beautiful, beautiful sorrows.

But then, something changed. An azure-tinged light enveloped everything. The flowers, the garden, her. It drowned the entire scenery in its serene hues, washing out all color and emotion in its wake. It was not a suffocating light, but a serene, gentle one. It embraced the despondent girl against its bosom, caressed her head and assured her everything would be all right. It felt as though the girl had recovered something she had never truly had for a long, long time – a mother's love.

The light soothed her. It told her, worry not, your time has not come yet, all can still be saved.

The girl cried silently. She replied, how? I don't have the strength to fight nor protect.

The light smiled a sweet, knowing smile. Something stirred within the girl's heart. She did not need to hear anything else, as she understood what was being conveyed to her.

There was still hope. She was still alive. Fontaine could still be saved.

A small, infinitesimal spark soon made its appearance in between all the flowers, at the core of the garden. The spark grew into fire, the fire into flame, and the flame into a veritable deluge of burning magma. The garden of grief burned quickly, without a sound. It burned a bright, hot red. All her regrets, her sorrows, her grief. She would burn them all down to the very seeds. The intensity and warmth of her passion surprised even the Light, but it simply kept smiling. And with its role fulfilled it promptly vanished in the flames.

…

“Aaagh...cough cough, damnit... I thought you could breathe in these waters...”

Lumine picked herself up with great difficulty from the rough, frigid waters and unto a grassy coast, before letting herself lie down and recuperate. The good news was, Primordial Water could indeed not affect her the same way it affected Fontainians. The less favorable news was that it still posed a great threat to anyone without adequate lung capacity and well-trained muscles, as the water's properties made it a lot heavier and viscous. It also meant it was near-impossible to breathe in, unlike Fontaine's usual seas. Nonetheless, the traveler was alive and well, her general annoyance at having been chucked straight from the Abyss into the water mitigated by her physical and mental fatigue, as well as the dreadful sadness clinging to her still.

“Childe...damnit...damnit all..!”

She put her forearm over her eyes in an attempt to dry the tears that subsequently appeared and fell heavily down her face with very little success. As her breath steadied, the full weight of her feelings soon came bearing down on Lumine. Instinctively, she knew there was still so much to do and that she scarcely had the time to let herself cry. But in the darkness of the night, visible to none, she allowed herself one final indulgence. After this she would be strong. After this she would strive to save and protect anything she still could. But just for these few, lonely moments, she cried.

Her cries echoed above the uncaring waves.

…

It was a strange thing, this Primordial Sea. One could not easily tell at first glance the difference between this and your average body of water, but for the survivors of the Flood who had now gotten quite accustomed to it, the minutiae was striking. From the liquid below emanated an unnatural purple-hued miasma, almost like some weird, berry-flavored soft drink, and there would occasionally be bubbles where no living being drew breath. Some say the Sea itself is alive, and these are the signs it 'breathes'. Others call the very notion ludicrous. But no matter what camp you sided with, all came to the realization that the Sea was uncannily attractive. It may not have had a pulse, but surely it had a pull, and the longer you stared at it, the more you would be inextricably enraptured by its imposing presence. You would only need a few small steps to close the gap. A measly walking distance to become part of its design, to come back to the Origin. One. More. Step.

“Furina, stay focused on the task at hand.”

“R-right, sorry, I thought I noticed something move in the water haha...”

“Whatever it was, it could only spell an ill omen. Please be careful.”

The girl with the loose attention span diverted her eyes from the terrifying still waters of the Primordial Sea, and joined her partner's side as they continued their expedition in the dangerous rainy terrain of an unfamiliar Fontaine. At the behest of President Navia, Furina was to investigate strange phenomena happening around Nouveau Poisson, with the Knave in tow to help on the brute force aspect of things. There was probably something mildly insulting in utilizing the 4^th Harbinger of the Fatui as a glorified bodyguard, but if said Harbinger had any complaints about that, she certainly had no intention of voicing them. And so it was that the unlikely pair were out and about, trying to check off the list given to them, one sighting at a time.

Not caring to stifle a sigh of ennui, Furina threw out another piece of complaint, just as she had done many times before today: “I appreciate the President's conscientious approach to this, but half of these 'sightings' are just stray rock formations, random bits of junk strewn about and TREES. Urgh!”

While the Knave did not directly reply, she felt the same way. Going around in endless rain, only protected by annoyingly thick raincoats, to walk around and scrutinize trees and rocks was mundane to the point of madness. She almost wished a threat would actually appear, just so she could satiate her blade, but perhaps the boring nature of their work was something to be celebrated rather than chided.

Nonetheless, they kept at their task. Furina employed a lackadaisical approach to professionalism, where she would work with great care but sigh and yawn throughout. She would methodically jot down any clues or hints in a small notebook of her own, all the while shielding herself from the uncaring rains above, having to painfully arch her back and defend paper and pen with her body. Meanwhile, the Knave would stand guard, making sure nothing could take them by surprise. Throughout their exploration, Arlecchino absent-mindedly noted that Furina's behavior did not differ all that much from the Archon's way of presiding over court trials in the past, with the annoyed commentary and sarcastic expressions of woe. Beneath that standoffish veneer of grandiosity had she taken her job far more seriously than what one could observe all along?

There comes this nagging feeling again. I have nothing to feel sorry for, it was my duty, Arle lied to herself.

“Heeeey Arle! Come here, I believe I may have found something of note!”

The time for introspection was put to an end, as the petite girl's shrill voice pierced through the rainfall to reach the Knave, who had lost herself in her thoughts – a rather bad habit of hers lately. When she drew closer, Arlecchino immediately understood why she was beckoned here:

“Are these...footprints?”

A strange set of foot imprints indeed spread ahead of them, making its way towards the inland areas. Now, if it were just footprints it would not warrant any further scrutiny, but the two women could plainly see the unnatural blue shimmer pasted over every single indentation in the grass. Furina and Arlecchino thought about the same thing, at the same time, but it was the smaller of the two who voiced that their shared conclusion:

“A water construct in the shape of a human..! Such a construct would perfectly account for these prints, haha!” She laughed and jumped like a small girl, so content with finally having something tangible to track that for a moment she forgot the deeper implications of this situation.

“Furina,” implications the Knave would swiftly remind her of, “you should expect to face a foe first, a friend second. Do not falter when the time comes.”

Her initial joy fully trampled upon, Furina fell silent, acknowledging deep down that her words rang truer than she cared to admit. All she could do to push back her frustrations was invoke her signature childish bravado, “I-I am perfectly aware of that, your lordship. Do not dare patronize me! Hmph!”

“I apologize then, I merely wished to make sure.” But the response that came from the Harbinger was muted, too sincere a counter to Furina's obvious jest. She expected some form of back and forth, a snide remark or whatever sarcastic quip Arle could have come up with, but there had been nothing. Was she in a foul mood perchance? But if that were the case, she could have at the very least chided her! It was wholly strange and contradictory, but Furina almost found herself missing the Arlecchino who so heavily pushed back against her during their 'tea parties'. 'Twas like watching a large cat with trimmed claws and chipped fangs. The early death of their conversation ended up leaving a cold, awkward air which uncomfortably settled between their steps as they traced the footprints to what they hoped were their destination, inland, away from the coastline.

It did not get any warmer as they continued to walk. Furina would carefully follow the traces all the while observing her surroundings for any other clues, while Arle never dropped her guard for a single second, just in case danger came near, and for the first time in their outing it finally did.

“Are these hydro slimes? Terrifying.”

“I do not personally view slimes as the image of terror.”

“Oh surely you jest, have you not seen their EYES?! They have no souls! No love! No remorse nor mercy! I bet they even consume ketchup as food... Please dispose of them post-haste!!”

And that she did, not willing to indulge Furina's theatrics for a second longer. Obviously such low-grade critters posed very little threat to a Harbinger, who dealt with them in less strikes than their numbers. But as her cuts seared that gooey flesh-like substance of theirs, Arlecchino realized something strange: “These slimes...they're not composed of regular Hydro.”

“Huh? You mean...”

“I'm afraid so,” she did not need to hear Furina's guess to know they were once again on the same page, “these slimes were borne out of Primordial water. Even the youngest of the Hearth could deal with ordinary slimes, but these would be a threat to anyone within range...”

She fell into deep contemplation. Oceanids were one thing, but they were still something of a rare and aberrant occurrence people knew full well to avoid at all costs. Slimes meanwhile are so omnipresent they've become a common joke amidst adventurers and other outgoers of Teyvat, and as such, the idea that they could become additional pawns of this chaotic Sea felt like an omen for much worse things to come. Of course, first of all, they would have to warn everyone in the city post-haste, especially the children, lest they go out underestimating basic foes for the last time. This would require rigorous training, maybe she should dedicate some of her time for defense classes? But she was already pulled in every direction and-

“ARLE!” The petite girl's voice rang loudly in her ear, having gone unanswered thrice before already.

“Hm? Oh. My apologies, I seem to have lost focus myself.”

“More like threw it down a ditch, what were you even thinking about so intensely? Primo or no, slimes are slimes aren't they? Just stab the darn things!”

“I-” for a moment, Arlecchino considered explaining the deeper ramifications of this threat until she noticed Furina's oddly serene smile and reassuring look. Is she trying to...assuage my worries? The very thought seemed absurd, but the brat already turned her back and continued to walk alongside the path they followed, clearly intent on leaving the conversation on that note. The Harbinger could do naught but sigh at this unreasonable demeanor, and follow in her wake.

As they continued their journey, both women could sense the air around them shift. Walking alongside the coast, with tragic landscapes in sight and the silent sea to drown out one's thoughts was much different than walking in fully terrestrial areas, certainly a rarity in this new Fontaine. It felt as though breathing had gotten easier, away from the dangerous waters, but conversely the lack of the wildlife that used to constellate these lands gave the environment a desolate, eerie vibe which did little in the way of calming down either of the women's nerves.

Soon, a worrying pattern started to emerge with the steps they followed: despite the terrain not having changed much since the start, the footprints became muddier, rougher, like their owner had suddenly started running, or at least such was the Knave's keen observation, as Furina would be hard-pressed to tell the difference between a “rushed” foot imprint and a “calm” one. Arle conjectured that this could mean a number of things, ranging from the culprit being chased, them doing the chasing, or any other occurrence that would result in a conflict involving haste. But theories would have to take a back seat, as the pair finally chanced upon the entrance of a large grotto, and their Ariane's Thread – the footprints – extended deep within, compelling the two women to enter the foreboding lair.

“We should head back, Furina.” Or so thought the smaller of the two, before being woefully contradicted by her acolyte's words.

“Head back? Surely you jest! We have finally reached our goal, and I'll be damned if we don't find something to report beyond stupid trees and slim-”

“It was not a suggestion, Lady Furina.” Grabbing a fair bit too strongly on her shoulder, Arlecchino made known through the intensity of her gaze and the roughness of her tone that she did not mean to debate their next course of action a single second. In her mind, it would be pure recklessness to keep going with their venture when there were so many unknowns paired to such an obvious trap. Arle knew this. The oh so many children she lost to malignant bait tossed by her enemies to cull the green of her ranks simply to reach her emotionally. Of course, they would rarely if ever succeed in keeping their lives after such maneuvers, but it brought no joy to be an avenger. And she was fully intent on making sure she never had to avenge the frightened girl in front of her.

“Y-you should take your hand away...” Furina was appropriately scared by the Knave's sudden shift in demeanor. And it was the desired effect.

“Only if you're willing to listen to me. I am doing this,” the pressure Arle exercised on the shoulder ever so slightly increased, “for your own good.”

An awkward silence followed suit, only interrupted by occasional sounds of bated breaths and swallowed saliva. Arlecchino was a patient woman; she fully intended on waiting until the girl under her palm cracked from the tension, so she could be more easily persuaded into cooperating.

“So...you would resort to intimidation after all..?” But the reaction she received was not the one she expected. Instead of being stunned or terrified, Furina now sounded merely...despondent. “I really was an idiot, wasn't I? Believing you had changed your ways and felt apologetic about our previous ordeals. But you would still use fear to get your way with me? Hah! What a fool I was all along...”

She should not have had to justify herself, but in her confusion Arlecchino couldn't help but try and de-escalate the situation, albeit far too late. “Lady Furina, I only meant to-”

“Meant to what? Strike fear into my heart as you'd done before, so I would do your bidding? Manipulate me into trusting you only for you to thrust your claws behind my back? I thought you were different now. That in atoning for trying to kill me, you would have the DECENCY not to use fear as your weapon against me!

“Lady Furina, I-”

“Stop. With. The. Lady. I have grown far too sick of it. Is my authority to invoke only when it suits your agenda? Either settle on talking to me as your equal, or put yourself fully in my service if you care for my ladyship so damn much. Perhaps neither suits you, and you wish a simple puppet to serve your every need! Which is it then?! Am I a friend to you, Arle? A master to a Knave? Or am I a mere tool to be fashioned to your liking, O Lord Arlecchino.”

The bite in her last words was so striking it momentarily froze the Harbinger in place, giving Furina a chance to shrug her hand off her shoulder and keep walking towards the cave.

“I'll make my way down alone if I must. If you think me a liability, maybe you should never have caught me.”

“La- no, Furina wait!” But it was already too late, and the shockingly swift girl had been completely swallowed by the darkness of the cave, leaving behind her heavy raincoat as well as a shell-shocked Arlecchino to muse over what had just happened. Where had she gone wrong? Wasn't it natural to be more careful? No, it was in her way of expressing it, perhaps. It all made little sense to the socially challenged Father, but now was not the time to contemplate her mistakes. She had to find Furina before whatever came to create those steps found her first. No matter what.

…

“Haa... Oh Archons, why could this body not have been cursed with incredible athletic abilities...” Having ran a good few minutes to lose her partner in the serpentine layout of the cave, Furina had to come to grips with her dire lack of endurance. You would think a 500-year role on the stage would typically build such stamina, but it almost felt like the last month had affected her physical attributes more tangibly than anything prior to her loss of Archonship. Perhaps the curse had also stopped her body from gaining any form of strength or skill? That would certainly be tragic, and highly unfair, but now was scarcely the time to take Focalors' name in vain.

The girl struggled but succeeded in steadying her breathing, and once her eyes were more accustomed to the surrounding darkness, she took the time to scrutinize her current whereabouts. The outside light was already out of sight, so she was either quite deep or quite far into the cave. During her run, Furina had noticed a slight downward inclination, or a slope so to speak, which would make the answer lean toward the former. That realization, however, brought its own lot of worries: was she under sea level? Any form of cave-ins or fractures within the underground rock formations could easily spell her doom, let alone the already existent danger of being swallowed under large, sharp stones. Regrets aplenty began brewing in her heart.

Urgh, what was I thinking?! To act so stupidly, almost like a child would. But I- I don't think I'm wrong...

After the regrets came the soul-crushing after effects of feeling betrayed in her trust. It didn't matter why or how, Arle had tried to scare her into action, something which still felt all too uncomfortable considering the circumstances that led to their original meeting. After the other night, she thought they could go past that and forge a new friendship free from intimidation and schemes, but perhaps it was only her own point of view. The poor girl who had seldom opened up to anyone in the last five centuries chastised herself for believing too deeply in a connection that, by all accounts, basically happened over two nights.

How naïve of me...how stupidly naïve...

As tears started to slowly gather in her eyes, a strange glimmer shone within the deeper parts of the cave, momentarily interrupting her thoughts and freezing her with confusion, fear, and curiosity respectively. Her initial apprehension was quelled when the sight of that gleam filled her with a strange, seemingly unfounded sense of familiarity and nostalgia, almost as if she had seen it many times before. Focusing her attention towards it whilst keeping her distance, she could distinguish its irregularity, the purple stripes it illuminated the walls with, and the thunderous sounds that echoed through the caves. There was very little doubt, and gaining renewed hope, Furina rushed towards its source, thinking it could only be one thing, or rather, one person.

Around the same time...

In another part of the cave, the Fourth practically flew down the cavernous corridors, having unluckily lost sight of the runaway former Archon, and thus methodically searched every single nook and cranny of the many holes and rooms within. Yet while her body was in action, her mind was in turmoil, unable to still itself and concentrate on anything but the reasons why she was on this chase to begin with. She could not identify what she had done wrong at the time. It only felt normal to instill the danger of the situation through her demeanor, as she often did to dissuade her children from attempting reckless endeavors. Perhaps this was where she went wrong, but what was Furina but a child who had never known the chance to mature because of her burdens? Was she wrong to treat her as such? It all felt too confusing and reminded Arlecchino of why she despised social decorum and conventions above all. What was the problem in using any means at one's disposal, even more unbecoming ones, if the ends justified it? But no matter how hard her mind spun, she was simply stuck in a loop of rhetorical questions and non-answers.

Fortunately, her chase was at an end, as she could discern a far off light in the distance, alongside two silhouettes, one familiar and one less so. Before she could reach them however, the light burst tenfold in intensity, emitting a powerful, sparkling flash of purple electricity that could only be the harbinger for danger. She had to be quick, her life depended on it.

A few minutes ago...

Following the strange, purple-hued light led Furina to discover a large circular room whose purpose of design clashed heavily with the naturalistic formation of the cave system she had meandered from. Imposing stone pillars surrounded a disc-shaped platform in the center, upon which peculiar runes could be seen by a keen observer. Unfortunately the observation would have to wait, as in the very middle of the room stood the object of her search, the person she had hoped to find all along, and a worrying sight altogether:

“C-Clorinde! It's you, it's...really you..?”

The pause in her voice was the result of noticing the wrongness in the air, the way nothing 'clicked' quite right. The figure in front of her, despite having her back turned against Furina, was most certainly the Champion Duelist of Fontaine. No doubt about it. Her signature attire and hat were virtually unchanged from what she remembered, and therein lay the problem. It had been a month, the world had practically ended, and everyone led very different lives. Clorinde was unaccounted for during said month, likely taken by the waves according to most, and here she stood, virtually unchanged, almost as if she was preserved in stone. On top of that, the years spent alongside the former Archon had sharpened Furina's senses to the everyday mannerisms of her old subordinate. She could tell her stance was more crooked than usual, her posture more rigid, her arms more tense than needed. Whatever was going on with Clorinde right now, something was terribly wrong, and her gut instinct told Furina to run for dear life. But she stepped forward.

“It's...it's me! Furina! I- um...we've...been looking for you, y'know.” She gulped, sensing her words were not being quite heard, yet continued regardless, “Ah, and Navia is alright, if you should know! She's...really worried about you, y'know, you should, umm...come back and see her..?”

At the mention of Navia's name, the back she had been staring at twitched, ever so slightly, and the swordswoman finally turned around, slowly, inch by inch, until Furina could see her fully frontally for the first time in ages. She gasped with horror at the sight.

“How...dare you...” Her voice was low, almost a growl, with a distinct quality to it that alluded to something far more feral within her. But more than her tone it was her face that worried Furina the most. Over Clorinde's handsome traits were faint traces of blueish scars, in the hue she recognized to be yet another sign of Primordial Water. The scars jutted over from her face down to her collarbone, seemingly starting from her left eye, fully discolored in tinge and having taken the same, unnatural blue of the Sea. By all accounts, from everything she knew, any presence of Primordial Water within a Fontainian would immediately deconstruct their essence and turn them into an Oceanid residing within the Sea, but somehow, there seemed to be a high concentration of that very same Water flowing in Clorinde's veins. Furina reflexively took a step back.

“C-Clorinde...what happened to you?”

“You...of all people...have no right to...ask that question..!”

Her face soon twisted into an anger that shook Furina to her very core. She did not immediately understand why such ire was directed her way, but this all felt far too familiar. Whether it was before or after the Flood, she was used to her people's anger. The masses knew not of her efforts, and how could she ever blame them. They were right to judge her when their lives were at stake. However, she never thought that selfsame fury would manifest from her taciturn duelist. She who rarely mixed her own emotions into her actions, she who had a steadfast belief in true justice. She who stood right in front of her, her hand clutching her blade, with electrical currents running all around it.

She who would say, “It's your fault...Navia...Navia is...!”, before making the first strike.

Furina had very little time to think, let alone to act. It was all too much too fast. Her mind had overclocked its capabilities and only so it could ask endless looping questions. Why is she attacking me? What happened to Navia? Nothing could have happened, I know she's okay. Is she misunderstanding something? Is she angry at me? Does she blame me? She's not wrong but do I have to die for it? Am I going to die? Am I. Going. To. Die?

Before the point of the electrically-charged sword could ever hope to pierce her, a loud clang, soon followed by a large explosive sound erupted in the empty room. The confrontation in front of her scattered sparks, ashes and bits of electricity all around, and when the dust settled Furina understood what had happened: a flaming scythe had interposed itself between the sword and her delicate figure.

“Arle! I-”

“Apologies will have to wait, Furina. Let me handle this.”

The two women were now furiously caught in a burning, electrifying clash of blades and wills, no party willing to relent. Clorinde's cold fury interlocked with Arle's taciturn indifference. One of them brought rage into the fight, and one could wonder if it would prove beneficial in the long run. With neither yielding, they both took a step back, and carefully measured the worth of their opponent. On one side the undethroned strongest Champion Duelist in Fontaine's history. Adept with firearms and the blade, she was a ruthless fighter that held mercy for none in her pursuit of justice. Rumors ran wild about her origins, the source of her strength and what manner of techniques she still kept hidden in her large umbrella of talents. Unfortunately for tabloids and such, no opponent had forced her to play her aces before. Before now. This opponent was not the average crook, she was the Fourth Harbinger of the Fatui and an incredibly imposing woman in her own right. Those who had seen the true extent of her power likely numbered the digits on one's hand, and those who had lived afterwards were even more scarce. So many unknowns and such a threatening aura. Clorinde's only repose was perhaps in the fact that Arlecchino did not want to dispatch her, at least not yet. She would first try to reason, if not as a favor to President Navia, as a mercy to the fearful girl behind her:

“The woman whose name you cry is alive. I do not know under what manner of spell you seemingly are, but you would do well to wake up,” yet she nonetheless readied her stance, showing a willingness to fight through and through if it came down to it, before finishing her sentence with a threat, “before I make you.”

The air around the two fighters felt thick with tension and hostility, so much so Furina struggled to even breathe, transfixed by the confrontation unfolding in front of her. Her logical mind, working overtime to keep her heart rate in check, told her there was simply no way a Harbinger would lose in a fight, period. Yet she could also not envision the sheer idea of Clorinde losing, as she had never seen it happen in all her tenure. Understanding instinctively that a fight was inevitable, the petite girl hid in a corner behind some large rock, hoping it would shield her from any stray debris.

The immobile standoff did not last forever. Clorinde soon took one, two, three slow steps in her opponent's direction. Arlecchino did not budge, carefully scrutinizing her every move in anticipation of an attack that had yet to come. When they were close enough that each of their weapons could feasibly slash one another, the purple-haired woman stopped, and opened her mouth, her calm posture betrayed by the shaking of her weapon:

“Liar...you are all...liars...”

“And how, pray tell, would I ever benefit from lying to you?” Arle did not lose her composure when faced with this level of unbridled rage, surely she was all too accustomed to such displays. For a moment, Furina found herself admiring this confidence and calm, something she was incapable of showing even after becoming all too used to being scorned.

“You...for the...pretender...” As Clorinde's fury became less contained, her speech became more slurred and erratic, and it became harder to understand exactly what she tried to convey.

“Compose yourself and speak up.” But the Harbinger scarcely cared, or at least was not interested in showing it. Her tone felt closer to that of a strict parent rather than a fighter in the ring, but then again she was a strict parent.

“I...I...I will... I- I w-” Yet before she could retort, the Champion Duelist started violently convulsing, losing all hint of a composed stance. Her body shook unnaturally, almost as if she were possessed, thought Furina. This stray thought soon developed itself into a garden of thorny vines riddled with the worst possibilities imaginable and compelled the girl to come out of her hiding spot and scream, “DON'T LET HER GET NEAR ARLE!”

She had seen right, yet she had seen late, and even the Harbinger had not fully accounted for the possibility that the woman in front of her was not who she claimed to be. After all, who would ever believe an Oceanid to take a human's shape? And who would believe it to get just close enough for a powerful, flesh-cutting jet of Primordial water to come impossibly fast from her gun at one's head? For anyone else, this would have been death. For Arlecchino, it became a small yet bloody hole in her left shoulder.

“NO!” Furina could no longer hide, as she came running towards the Harbinger who was now holding her shoulder in the pain she was unable to hide, beads of sweat soon forming on her temples and running down her cheeks. But the pain was of no concern. This was Primordial water. Any Fontainian would be utterly doomed in this situation.

“STAY BACK!” Yet before she could fully approach her, an earth-shatteringly loud scream stopped Furina dead in her tracks. “Do not...come near. Let me handle this.”

Soon enough, Arlecchino's hand lit bright with powerful flames, the heat of which could be felt in the whole room. And in a ludicrous example of improvised surgeonry, she brought that hand to her wounded shoulder, cauterizing the wound in an extremely painful manner which brought a scream of agony even from the usually taciturn Harbinger. Furina's mortality feared this display, while the thespian in her couldn't help but marvel at this macabre spectacle of painful, violent recovery.

Once she was done, her shoulder had been well and truly singed, and the clothing in that spot utterly burned, but her wound no longer bled, leaving behind naught but charred scar tissue. Taking just a few seconds to recover a steady breathing pattern, the Harbinger held her scythe once more, and stared at the still shifting form of the wolf in sheep's clothing before her with open disdain and solemn determination. The time and place for negotiations had well and truly been lost.

Earlier, 'Clorinde' had attacked her with the well-fashioned gun that had been the dirge of many a criminal in Fontaine. Yet instead of being Arkhe-powered, it seemed to have a purely biological way of functioning, almost as if it were a body part in and of itself. In the same way, while her sword exuded electricity, it seemed to merely be a pale copy of the original, incapable of rivaling the real thing. Her grave wound and these observations led Arlecchino to conclude her prognostic. Mercy was no longer a necessity.

In a flash, faster than even lightning, the Harbinger flew and lowered her burning blade on the monstrous adversary in front of her, opening a heavy gash on its torso and provoking an inhuman scream. The creature, as expected, did not bleed, and beneath the ripped clothing lay blue, ethereal flesh instead of human skin. 'Clorinde' backed off immediately, its survival instincts kicking in full effect. It seemed shocked that the threat had not been neutralized by its earlier strike, but it bounced off quickly and prepared for a scrap. Holding on to the form of the Champion Duelist, the stance it took was nearly identical to that of the original, save for the ever-increasing blueish scars covering its face and chest. It was losing control, and nothing was more dangerous than prey backed into a corner.

From 'her' lips came ramblings and distorted words, hard to make out beyond mentions of “Justice” and “Pretender”, but it mattered little, the act was up and 'Clorinde' no longer needed to play the part. It started running again, immediately closing the gap between the two opponents only to jump behind the Harbinger, and launched a powerful slash attack in her blind spot. But Arlecchino did not even need to twist her head to know exactly where to parry, forcing 'Clorinde' to back off again. This exchange happened numerous times. It would find an angle to strike at, and Arle would nonchalantly block it. It tried using its ranged projectile from earlier, but it required only the most simple of movements for Arlecchino to easily dodge it. Soon enough, the creature was noticeably tired, and the figure of the Champion Duelist could scarcely keep itself up. And as it wrestled control over its shape, the Harbinger's scythe struck. The creature could very barely redirect the attack to its own shoulder, cutting deep and boiling the water that composed it. 'Clorinde' tried its best to back away, but it was a fool's errand. The Knave was relentless and unforgiving. She chased the monster across the ruins, filling its blue flesh with more wounds and gaps than it could feasibly take, and no amount of skillful parrying helped it as its techniques were stolen and not earned. Soon enough, it stopped moving altogether, likely realizing its demise was fast approaching, as did the Harbinger about to deliver it. But once again, no hunter should underestimate a cornered prey, for that's when they're at their most dangerous.

The monster growled an inhuman sound which could have never come out of a human, and in a last effort to save itself from its predator, it ran impossibly fast and pulled out its 'gun' in Arle's direction, shooting a powerful burst that was once again dodged with ease. Yet the creature snarled. It all happened so fast. Furina did not have time to scream. Arlecchino did not have time to dodge. But the jet of water that bounced right back against her back had ample time to form a deep, bloody wound, ripping off the clothing at the spot it hit. This direct a shot of Primordial Water, the creature thought, would surely end the fight in an instant.

Yet it did not. It only served to anger the Hunter. Arlecchino soon let her flames completely submerge her entire self, screaming as a Flaming Demon would, until any drop was fully dried on her back. It was impossible to tell if this would work to save her, but it certainly held two more purposes. First, she was still standing, and likely had enough in her for a final strike. Second, the creature was now utterly terrified. Every single thing it tried had been to no avail, and the rest of its life could be counted in seconds. That's when the Harbinger's scythe struck again.

It struck fast, and it struck deep, fast enough to completely shock the monster, and deep enough to slice it in twain with no remorse, letting the singed, boiling cut over its hips slowly appear and drop the upper part of its body in an unsatisfying 'plop' on the ground, returning back to being mere water drops in the stony soil.

It almost felt too easy, and for a while longer Arle's body kept burning with anticipation and actual flames, just in case another threat made itself known. But the next thing that came to touch her was no danger, but a petite girl hugging her from behind, and crying heavy tears into her wounded back. Perhaps it was the water drops, or perhaps it was physical contact, but the fire beneath and beyond Arlecchino's skin soon died out, leaving her to slowly regain her cool, both physically and mentally.

Once she understood the girl behind her was crying, she steadily turned around, ignoring the pain in both her shoulder and back which slowly returned as feeling returned to her atrophied nerves. Furina kept clinging to her, the drops now staining the white and grey of the Harbinger's clothing. She could barely sob out a few words:

“Arle...Arle, don't leave me, please don't leave me.” These tears came easily to Furina's odd-colored blues, and they soon invaded her facial features. Despite the cauterizing of her wounds, the tall woman HAD been hit with Primordial Water, twice even, and for any Fontainian this was effectively the end. Perhaps the fire had prolonged her life, but it would not last. This was it, no one could survive this. Arlecchino was about to become one with the Sea and leave Furina behind. It was soul-crushing, all the moreso because their last real talk had been one of petty dispute. In fact, had they not separated, had she listened to the Harbinger, they would not even be in this situation, and she would not be crying over her soon-to-be gone friend...

It was her fault. Yet again, it was all her fault.

While the small girl was crying into her chest, the Harbinger lazily raised her right hand and gently pat down Furina's head, caressing her white hair from top to back. Stifling the still-present pain, she opened her lips, and confessed:

“Furina I...I ought to have explained this before but...I am not from Fontaine...”

“...huh?”

The petite girl sniffled and tried haphazardly wiping her tears away before the realization of Arle's words dawned on her, and she felt a whole host of conflicting emotions ranging from confusion to relief, passing by embarrassment and anger.

“But...that day you said-”

“I said I fought for my children's homeland, yes. My...efforts to stymy the Prophecy's events were for the House's benefit, not mine. Of course, the House's prosperity is an important priority to me, so in the end I still acted for my own reasons, but in truth, my origins are complex an- ow ow- stop tha- ow.”

An unexpected fist came hurling at her torso from the crying girl still clinging to her. Unexpected as Arle did not feel the slightest bit of hostility, and even as the fists came barreling down, she still did not perceive any malice.

“Idiot...idiot...idiot! You're such a...stupid...dumb...imbecilic...idiot! Tell me...these things beforehand! You...you...you bastard woman you-”

“Furina I-”

“Shut up! You can't talk. I forbid it! You have no right to talk after...after making me so darn worried! So just...shut up...stop talking...and hold me.”

Arle fell silent, and the small, shaking fists stopped their relentless yet ultimately inoffensive assault on the wounded woman. Soon enough, Furina was back to crying loudly, which mildly confused the Harbinger who found nothing better to do than obey her demands as she closed her own arms to the back of the shorter girl while staying her words for the time being. She understood, at least instinctively, that no words would be helpful nor necessary right now. And so, she simply let her cry all she could while holding her.

…

“Let's see, let's see...Remurian ruins, Primordial slimes, Oceanids in human form, and our dear local Harbinger is not as local as she pretended. My, what a mess, but it certainly appears to have been a fruitful expedition.”

In the dead of night, beneath a weak, flickering Arkhe-powered lamp, the blonde-haired President was hard at work compiling the observations and report drawn from the Knave and former Archon's adventures during the day. She initially had her doubts about the efficiency with which these two could work together, despite the obvious chemistry that seemed to bloom between them, but this trial run exceeded any expectations she had. They now knew more about the dangers plaguing them, and even uncovered previously unknown ruins from the previous civilization. The time was hardly apt for archeological interests, but in the future this might become extremely valuable.

“The future...huh...”

Navia's musings soon turned sour. Their situation was not good, to say the least. Provisions were running low and food was becoming more and more scarce as the lands themselves became more and more dangerous. Part of her almost felt as if Fontaine itself was trying to drown them back into the Primordial Sea, and this feeble resistance was merely akin to a fish running against a current's stream. It was useless to think about things as such, but at this time of the night, when no one required of her to be the strong and determined leader of the survivors, she authorized herself the slightest bit of sadness and fear. The future was thus uncertain, and tomorrow would bring new threats she would need to stay strong against, but for tonight she needed not stifle her worries. Chief amongst them, of course, was the startling report that out of all the things an Oceanid could morph into, it simply had to have been Clorinde. Was this a cruel twist of Fate? A mere coincidence? Was this a sign she was still out there? Or a sign to the opposite? Navia didn't know, she couldn't know, and the anxiety left behind made her want to break down the four walls surrounding her with a single strike of her claymore. She needed to take a breather.

Outside, the rain fell light, as it tended to do during the night. Navia mused amusingly that the Hydro Dragon must be sleeping if its tears are more numerous during the day, not realizing she was likely more right than she thought. Not taking care to bring an umbrella or raincoat, she let her blonde hair become wet beneath the showers above. She needed to cool down, and this was the best way she knew. When work piled high she would simply stay in her office and drown herself amidst the papers and files, but every once in a while, she liked to go to a small cliff overlooking the Sea, very close to the city's entrance. She offhandedly remembered Chiori once mentioning she had such a spot to cool her mind, and thus Navia found her own as well.

Sitting on the wet, muddied grass, letting her body and mind cool down, she thought. She thought about Chiori, hoping for her to no longer be in Fontaine for her own safety. Even if she wasn't threatened by the Waters, this country was still dangerous to live in, and it would be best for her to have returned to Inazuma. Just as she hoped Kirara had returned too. In the end, Fontaine's problems were for Fontainians to solve, so it was for the best that their foreign friends found their way back to safety. But now that she thought about it, the Knave was no Fontainian. She explained after returning, heavily wounded, that she had obfuscated the truth simply to deter doubt as to her motivations. The Fatui beget suspicion on account of being Fatui, so this was likely the best course of action. Besides, her devotion to the House and its children was genuine, or at least that's what Navia felt, she thus saw no reason to think less of her for hiding her origins. Her thoughts finally turned to the burning question plaguing her heart, especially since the expedition report. Why Clorinde?

Amidst any shapes a monster could take, why her beloved? Why the woman she had painstakingly searched in the last month amidst every corner of the drowned Fontaine reappeared in form but not substance? Was this a joke? A clue? A riddle? Apparently she had even called her name, as if things couldn't get any less terrifying and sad. If it were merely a shape-shifting clone, it would not account for how it could so easily replicate her fighting style and even approximate speech and thoughts that could have come out of the original person. The worst possibility was to think that Clorinde had somehow been assimilated but Navia frankly did not even want to think about it. Beyond the fear, all of the unknowns in this situation threatened to shatter her very heart, and she could do naught but let the rains above mix with the tears falling down from her single eye.

“Father...Clorinde...what am I...supposed to do..?”

These words drowned in the night, as did her lonely feelings of pain.

Chapter Text

This is a story from a month ago, when the Waters rose and threatened all Life on Fontaine. A great many accounts of the Flood wound up passed down by the survivors. Amidst the tales of loss, grief and sorrow they recounted, there was one that told of something greater; a story of hope and struggle against the uncaring Sea.

“We don't have time for this. Leave the kid be, we HAVE to run!”

“H-How could you even say that? She's your daughter too!!”

Beneath a backdrop of catastrophe in the rising Flood, a young couple argued while running away from crumbling building and chasing water alike. The man was content on taking the lead, carrying a mere business briefcase and leaving the woman to have to carry both a luggage and a small baby on her back. The mother had never been the strongest, and the load was obviously bearing down on her heavily, but she refused to relent, to the exasperation of her husband.

“If we don't make it out of here, she won't either. I'm simply being reasonable here!”

“Damn you and your reason! I'll sooner save my child than be with you a second longer!!”

An unfortunate mishap, a push that was stronger than expected, the sound of a tumble, of an object hitting water, of nothing else. The woman could only watch in horror as the man she once called her husband had dissolved into aether before her very eyes, but she could not stand still, she had to run. She had to run and survive, she had to save her daughter, she had to live, to live, to live to-

“Agh- no!”

An unfortunate accident, a rock that was slightly too high, a foot that was slightly too low, and thus the woman was on the ground, and her child rolled over the precipice, ready to be swallowed by the waters that took her shameful father. How does one feel when above and beyond nothing, when the gravity of your fall crushes the air that escapes your lungs, when you have no choice but to accept your end, especially at such a tender age?

Yet the girl would not have to think such things today.

A shadow, no, a light? Accounts may vary, but something pierced the very air itself, traced a path of lightning and saved the child right before certain doom. The mother did not even have time to understand what happened when a figure appeared before her, carefully handing her the child, who seemed almost too giddy in her juvenile ignorance.

“There is an airship about to depart over there, you can still make it.”

“T-thank you miss...”

It was surprising she wasn't immediately recognized, but she was in civil clothing, which itself was in quite the sorry state. However, when she turned around and moved towards the incoming waters, her stance was unmistakable.

“Go! Get to safety!”

And thus the woman ran, the view of her savior's dependable back slowly growing smaller and smaller each time she looked back in anguish. But she made it to the ship with her daughter in tow, and she would tell the story of her survival time and again to the other survivors, igniting a spark of hope they all desperately needed in their hearts.

The hope that Champion Duelist Clorinde fought with all her strength to save the people of Fontaine, and that her sacrifice should never be in vain.

…

“Wait just a second, sacrifice? I fear I've missed a chapter because you did not say anything about her death.”

“And that is where the problem lies, Furina, no one can confirm whether she survived or not. However, in the times we live, it makes for a more sensical story to imagine she gave her life for her country. Jingoistic beliefs such as this are common in times of great strife.”

“But Arle, this means there's hope she-”

“That is also a dangerous pitfall you could tumble into, and that our President certainly has. Just as we have nothing to confirm her death, we have nothing to confirm her survival. It is still a safe assumption to make that she was taken by the Flood.”

“Gods, you are such a downer sometimes.”

Despite her, admittedly adorable, pouting, Furina knew well that her taciturn roommate was correct in her assessment. It was simply this idealistic side of her which rebelled against the notion that her former protector was lost to the Flood. She dearly wanted to see Clorinde again, both for her and Navia's sake, on top of likely serving as a great moral boost for the survivors, but alas 'twas to no avail. And their encounter with the strange Oceanid in her shape only confused their tracks further. Was this a sign she was alive, or the opposite? Either way, this could only be an ill omen.

Still musing over what could be and of the meanings obfuscated, the petite woman simply plopped back down on her mildly comfortable side of the bed, beneath the gaze of the Knave, whose scrutiny was by now almost comfortingly familiar to her. Sometimes Arlecchino would just stare at her. She wondered a great deal about why that would even be the case, whether it was something she did, said or even thought. In the end however, Furina simply decided to accept that Arle was kind of a weirdo. Being a foreign diplomat and having scary eyes did not, in the end, preclude someone from having the odd perk or three, or perhaps it even made it more likely.

Still...foreign huh...

Furina should never have been that surprised about the Harbinger's origins. After all, most of them ought to be Snezhnayans by virtue of obeying its Archon. It would seem her facade during the days preceding the Flood completely fooled all parties involved even the President. However, this revelation shone a new light on Arlecchino's actions. The Flood would have never directly threatened her, thus she could easily have returned to her homeland and waited out the storm, as it were. This meant it could only have been for her House, her children... A warm, unknown feeling quietly rose in Furina's heart, one she did not quite understand but took joy in.

In the end, I've had nothing but misgivings about her...

The assassin who had almost slain her. The Father who did everything for her kin. The diplomat who cornered her ruthlessly. The combatant who took up her blade to defend her. So many contrasting images of the Knave revolved in Furina's mind, slowly straying into the realm of sleep-induced unconsciousness. Who was she truly? A saint or a sinner? A hero or a villain? A friend or...

But her thoughts dissipated before she could think another label.

…

Arlecchino was not one to complain about pain, but she was also far from immune to it. The badly scarred hole in her shoulder and the heavy bruises on her back ached with agony whether she moved or not, but that choice was already taken away from her the moment she returned to base alongside the frantic and worried former Archon who, quite insistently, forced her into bed rest. She took great, although clumsy, care to nurse and bandage her wounds. Having clearly never done this before however, most of the bandages were either too tight or too loose, leaving the wounded woman ever so peeved about the situation. As if I could complain, she remarked, certainly not with the self-satisifed smile Furina showed at the end of her handiwork. Who could ever break that joy?

Again...why do I indulge her so...

By now this Harbinger was keenly aware of the stark favoritism she showed that girl, something she had never done for any of her children or the extremely low number of individuals she called 'friends' – namely the few Harbingers that were not completely detestable, unapproachable or any mix of both. It would thus stand to reason that she considered Furina as something else than a friend or child, but the answer still eluded her dense self, and how could it not? The matters of the heart were left to burn in the flames of the Knave's past life. In becoming the taciturn and cold Father of the House she had explicitly distanced herself from the emotionality that defined and warped her not-so-dearly departed Mother. Arlecchino thus took the utmost care into sealing every feeling under lock and key, not to be opened lest she would meet the same fate. But who knows how sturdy a decade-long lock can even be. Who's to say it has not already eroded.

Nonetheless, Arle did not like musing over answers that do not come. She simply brushes past and forges on. Just as she always did. She will keep protecting this girl, not for any reason she understood, but because it's what she has to do. Even if it felt wholly unreasonable to rely on “gut” feeling, surely her instinct held reason of its own. And now, despite her wounds and painful state, she still watches over the sleeping figure of the tired petite girl, so small and frail as if one could pop her with a touch. But a single touch of one's finger.

Squish.

“Soft.”

Dear gods, have I gone mad? Leave the poor girl's cheek in peace.

…

Freminet was no stranger to seeing his Father bruised and battered, but it did not assuage the sadness and worry his heart had to bear each and every single time. Most often, small-scale missions would be the purview of the House's children, meaning if Father went out, it had to have been something truly important and dangerous. And while the Knave would often come home unscathed, she would hide her wounds when she didn't, so as to not spread the seeds of unnecessary discord amongst her children. But Freminet would still see through it all. His Father had watched over him since the beginning of her tenure, and he did the same, trading what he lacked in social skills for the deep analytical observation that would become his greatest strength. Thus, he would watch, anxiety fueling his tiny heart, as the Knave hid terrifying wounds beneath her jacket, acting as if they were but flesh wounds. Even now, after the Flood, after her bout with the shape-shifting Oceanid, despite the horrid visibility of her wounds, Arlecchino did not flinch a single beat as she pat her worried son's head in a futile attempt to dismiss his fears.

Fears, yes. Freminet was scared, deathly so in fact. Even in their former life, that form of reckless self-endangerment was bound to be her fall. But now they were in a situation where every day could end in someone's unfortunate demise. Any day now, the rain could get uncompromisingly worse and drown what's left of Fontaine into silence. Death was omnipresent, yet Arlecchino never changed. It almost seemed as though she was swinging her life away, seeing wheresoever it would lead, what danger it would present, what wound it would inflict, chasing for a punitive atonement that would only bring her closer to her end.

Strongly clutching the twin gems of the departed siblings, Freminet felt a feeling unknown to his heart slowly well up within him. It was not anger, nor fear, but willpower. He could not lose someone else from his family. He would not let anyone else sacrifice themselves in his stead. He would protect his siblings, the other survivors, and even his Father, despite how outmatched he was. He was weak, that much was true, but he needed to act, and he needed to do it very soon. Freminet would not watch his Father join his siblings before him.

As he made his solemn oath, a glossy shine emanated from within his clenched fist.

…

A few days followed without much of an event to remember. While Arlecchino should have been stuck in bed, and much to the chagrin of every nurse who advised her as such, foolish was the hand that dared pull the Knave anywhere but where she wanted. She would thus roam around the city, helping out with miscellaneous chores here and there, still being careful not to overexert herself needlessly. God forbid if she happened to open up a wound of hers, the fury of the (former) Hydro Archon would be a veritable threat – read: pain in the arse – to deal with.

Meanwhile, that selfsame “pain in the arse” was doing much the same. In her uphill climb to regain some manner of trust from the disillusioned folk, Furina would throw herself at the slightest chore or menial task at hand. Even if it was quite the ingrate one, or if it outmatched her physical aptitude, she would voice nary a complaint and work earnestly. Saving Fontaine was certainly the fastest, most assured way of cleaning her name from the filth and mud it had been dredged through, but who knows how long that would take, and she hardly wanted to stay a pariah for a second longer. People's hearts are rarely so swiftly convinced however. Some treated her coldly, others chastized her outright at the slightest hint of a mistake. Even when she had done everything right, she would receive little more than shrugs or thanks in very hushed tones. The road to redemption was an arduous one, and she would keep walking it until her frail legs no longer permitted it.

Furina soon found her search for work lead her to a tired and sick looking old woman sitting on a rusty plank of metal repurposed to be a bench of sorts.

“Excuse me miss, is there anything I can help with?” She made her voice small, her presence even smaller. Her goal was to invite the least amount of animosity possible, and even then she still expected backlash, if only because she'd gotten used to it by now. However, the woman proved to be affable and kind in return.

“Oh my...how sweet of you to ask young lady. It truly kills me to have to depend on others, but may you get the herbs on this list? I'm afraid it's somewhat beyond me now...” And that's when it clicked. Her eyes were slightly fogged over, and her gaze was unfocused. In fact, she wasn't even looking in the right direction when spoken to.

She's blind, that must be why she doesn't scorn me...how droll.

She was unsure if she should be counting her blessings on account of someone's disability, but at least the work was quite cut and dry. Furina's knowledge of Fontaine's flora meant she had a good inkling on where exactly to find all the items in the list that weren't already available within the reserves of Nouveau Poisson's shopkeeps. It would however mean she would need to go outside.

Her mind flashed back to a conversation she had with the President and Knave in tow, about how if she were to go outside, she would have to be accompanied robustly, either by agents of Spina or the Knave herself. The organization was already overrun with work as it is and the oh-so reliable Harbinger could do with some much deserved rest. It would have been incredibly selfish of Furina to disrupt the work and rest of others because of the tasks she inflicted on herself. Still, if she did go alone and something happened to her...

As she mused over the conundrum in her mind palace, the sight of a familiar someone passed her by –

…

“Thank you again for assisting me on this venture! It is quite the boon to not have to rely upon the same old people all the time, haha.”

“N-no problem Lady Furina. I also wish to see...my Father rest...”

Freminet and Furina formed quite the unlikely pair. One was boisterous and one was timid, one was a performer and one stayed behind the scenes, one could not fight to save her life, and one could. Needless to say, for Furina this was the perfect opportunity. Not only was she not depending on Arle yet again, she also had a golden opportunity to bond with her child, all the while being protected in her outing. Of course, like a painful thorn in her heart lay the reminder that she wasn't entirely blameless for the loss of his siblings, instilling a certain awkwardness in the air whenever she felt motivated enough to talk. But she had to, because clearly he wasn't the chatty type.

“S-so! Tell me about yourself a bit! 'Tis a shame to not know each other a whole lot while circumstances have bound us together, don't you think?” Her semi-natural performance that was by now her bread and butter did not seem to work all that well to her advantage, nonetheless Freminet still felt obligated to answer.

“I-I doubt I could say much that would...interest you.”

“Oh come on. Try me. I'm the most interestable person in the world I'm sure!”

The boy debated in his mind on whether to point out 'interestable' is not a real word, but he stayed his tongue and instead voiced the first thing on his mind: “I...really like diving.”

“That I've heard! You've made quite a name for yourself amidst the people of Fontaine young man, enough that it even reached my humble self.” Of course, she was exaggerating the pompous act in an attempt to loosen the tension, but she was also keenly aware of the reputation that preceded him in the old Fontaine. She had even heard from Neuvillette about his excursions into the depths, and god knows how little that man ever went out.

“It's...really nothing that praiseworthy... I think,” Freminet briefly paused, seemingly searching for his next words, before seeming set, “I dive because...it gives me a place to rest. I don't have to...hear anything else. I can just be. Without needing to talk or listen. Getting to...work there is convenient for me, b-but in the end I...do it for myself...”

Furina listened intently, relived to see she was able to help Freminet open up, even if it's just a tiny bit. She always had the inkling he was the shy, introverted type, so nothing he said came as a surprise, but it did make her reflect somewhat. Furina wondered for a second whether she could have resisted the wear and tear of the last 500 years better had she had the same opportunity to free herself from all sounds and peoples. It certainly sounded tempting, and in that feeling she recognized that the boy and her may not have been so different, all things considered.

“L-Lady Furina? Is there...something wrong?” The white-haired girl suddenly snapped from her reverie at the worried words thrown her way by the boy at her side.

“N-no, no no no, I was merely...umm...lost in thought! Is all, is all...”

How uncouth. To lose my focus amidst such useless musing. I really need to get a grip.

Furina flashed an uncharacteristically grave expression of her face, one she certainly had never shown Fontaine before, but it prompted a strange comment from her companion: “You do not have...to perform...”

“Haha, what do you mean?” She smiled again, but it felt hollow, devoid of the warmth it would usually carry, and Freminet knew that.

“I think you're...doing it again, Lady Furin-”

“No no no, you're mistaken. I am not doing anything.”

“But your smile is-”

“I said. I'm not. Doing. ANYTHING.

“L-Lady Furina...?”

A terrible frown disfigured her face this time, with that empty smile completely wiped out. Her visage looked wholly unnatural, but not as unnatural as the tears that soon flowed out of her odd-colored blues.

Snap.

Like a very slight shatter at the base of a window, something imperceptibly small seemed to crack within Furina's brain. Just the mere mention of a performance had caused something to open in her, like a bottle of liquor after vigorous shaking. Her teeth ached, her stomach churned, and her vision fogged over.

“I'm not...performing... I... I stopped. I had to stop! I-I did nothing but perform! All these years... and now I stopped. I should have stopped. I deserve to stop! Am I...still on the stage..? No... No no no no NO. I can't. I can't be here. I can't face them. I have to stop. I have to run. I- I HAVE TO RUN!”

Crack.

The small puncture grew into chaotic fractals and drew a beautiful fissure in the petite girl's mind palace. Something had ceased to hold itself together. The part of her heart that continued the masquerade was no longer willing to play the part. Furina had been abandoned by her people, her God, and now by her own will.

“L-Lady Furina! I'm sorry if I said something wrong! Please stay calm! Lady Furin-...”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have kept my promise. I should have kept it in. I never should have said anything, I never should have trusted anyone! It's my fault. It's all my fault. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I-”

Thud.

After the crack and fractures, one would expect glass to magnificently shatter into a million pieces, but this one did not. It merely fell on the wet grass with an unsatisfying, blunt noise. 'It' wept. 'It' begged. 'It' apologized beneath the merciless rains, but salvation never came.

…

After a time, Furina came to realize her knees were uncomfortably sat on humid mud. The tears that had stained her cheeks had quickly been washed away by the skies, but the red marks they left were still perceptible. It took her more time still to realize she was not alone, and that the trembling body of the adolescent boy had latched unto her in a worried and flimsy embrace. How long had it been, and how long had he clung like so? The tired girl dreaded the answer, but it was this warmth that had awakened her.

“I'm...sorry...” A few long seconds passed by before she could muster up the strength to open her mouth. To make a mere child tremble with such fright; what a horrible thing to do. She was ashamed, and she wanted to cry all over again, yet all her tears were spent already.

“Are you...feeling better..?” To Furina's shock, the small boy did not answer with spite or fear, but with relief in his muted voice. He slowly loosened his arms, muttering the quietest 'sorry' for perhaps intruding on another's personal space. Freminet then stood up, still feeling weak from the tense situation he had just been an unwilling participant of. Yet this was not a mere reflex. His movements were intelligent, rehearsed. It soon dawned on Furina that he had likely done the same exact thing many, many times for his younger siblings, especially in the last month.

“I... I think I do. I truly...apologize for this showing. It seems I am still unable to fully escape my past obligations...” If she had the strength, a sardonic chuckle might have escaped her lips, but she hadn't even the energy for that much. Her presence felt so small and muted, like a loose marionette without strings tossed away after the death of its puppeteer. Breaking down in front of the taciturn Knave was one thing. Doing so in the presence of her vulnerable child, already shouldering too much responsibility for his own good was another, and something Furina heavily chastized herself for mentally.

“As I've said before, Lady Furina, you don't have...to force yourself to perform anymore.” As Freminet's voice bloomed, the white-haired girl turned towards him, finally seeing the expression on his usually downcast face. He was...smiling.

“You knew, didn't you? From way before I mean.”

“I wouldn't say I...knew anything. But I've seen you before in the audience. When everyone watched you, you were the perfect actress. A charismatic speaker through and through. But...when their gazes lost sight of you, your eyes...they lost their glimmer. They became a deep...dark blue. Like...an ocean, f-from the novels. A body of sea so vast, so deep, that it could hide even the greatest of secrets without ever letting anyone get near it...”

Awkward silence instilled itself into the conversation, seeing as Freminet was done and Furina was quite honestly speechless.

“You...got all that from a look?” Despite regaining the faculty of her voice, she was still just as flabbergasted. So someone in her audience saw this deeply through her with nothing but their own two eyes. Had she been such a poor actress as to let that happen? How amateurish.

“Well... I'm not much of a talker. So I...observe. I've developed a keen eye over the years...particularly for people who are...” Freminet's voice trailed off as he realized he was probably about to say something quite rude, but the girl in front of her picked up the sentence right from his mouth.

“...losers?”

“N-no! I wouldn't dare, that w-would be very rude of me to-”

“It's not rude if it's true now, is it?” By now, Furina had regained a bit of her positive mood and this exchange even got a light chuckle out of her, one that was very much welcome at the moment.

“I...guess?” The boy was unsure of how to respond best, but he soon realized it didn't matter all much. Just seeing the former Archon's mood shift for the better was enough.

“Alrighty, perhaps it's time for us to get back on our merry way,” as the words came out of her mouth, Furina tried to swiftly rise up to her feet in one movement, having absolutely not accounted for the fact that her legs were severely asleep, which ended up flinging her right back towards a falling motion.

“Be careful!”

If not for Freminet's swift intervention that is, who quickly found the right angle to catch her before an unfortunate fall, our beloved ex-Regina might well have gone and buried her face in the sad wet dirt below. Despite their actual positions, with the way he was holding her like a clumsy child, one could easily mistake Furina for the little sister between the two, compounded by her shorter stature. Nevertheless, after that embarrassing stumble, she quietly thanked the boy, taking care not to show how flustered she was lest she explode from within, and finally picked herself back up again.

Furina carefully stretched her limbs, making sure to avoid any other stupid accidents on the way to their destination. Once she was confident she could walk around again, she looked towards her bodyguard, only to realize he was clearly sitting on another topic of conversation. For a quiet boy, he sure is a talker now.

“I...wanted to ask you a favor...”

And he promptly quieted back into utter silence. Strange kid, but Furina thought she might not have been that different had she not internalized her role as a performer.

“Ask away! I'm certainly no goddess, so I do not know how helpful I might be, but your problems are my problems too my child.” Following her confident statement, Furina flashed a smile that could only be described as dependable and “older sisterly”, even if, once again, she was smaller.

This show of confidence seemed to be enough, however, to loosen Freminet's tongue as he made his wish known: “I...want to ask you, Lady Furina...will you please...protect Father?”

…

A great many hours had passed since Furina's outside venture, as she had rounded up her daily tasks and crashed right into her and her roommate's very modest yet shockingly comfortable bed, face down. It would seem said roommate had not yet returned – even though she was supposed to be resting in bed, mind you. Furina would simply have to heavily chide her. Thinking about the Knave's cavalier behavior only took her mind back to what she had heard earlier today from her very own child however.

Protect...your Father? In all honesty she's been doing most of the protecting thus far so...

I know, she's...very strong and capable. But I'm scared it will eventually...not be enough...

“So even the terrifying Harbinger has people worried sick about her huh...” It's not as if this was particularly surprising to Furina. The woman was, after all, parent to a grand many children who would grieve endlessly were she to come under harm's way. But the simple truth was, right up until their earlier bout against the Oceanidic clone, the idea that Arlecchino was anything but utterly invincible and immortal had not even crossed her mind in the slightest. She was still a flesh and bone human, this she knew, but all the way since she had quite literally flown to her rescue on that cliff, that day, Furina had omitted that very simple fact: the Knave was a human too.

And the child's worries were now much more understandable. Arle was powerful, sure, perhaps one of the most powerful people to ever hope to have on your side in all of Teyvat even, but she could bleed, and fall, and scream, all of which Furina had personally witnessed that day in the ruins. If she had always been this reckless when it came to endangering herself, then it comes as no surprise that Freminet was so persistent in broaching the subject...

What a brave boy, she mused, realizing inadvertently that she likely would not be able to muster up half the courage he did when begging her to help the troublesome Knave. And what could she even do? She had always, always been helpless to act in any way that could save or protect her people. The only act she could pull was one of pure inaction, a farcical performance only good for fooling others, not saving them. And what had it amounted to? Nothing. Worse than nothing, by her inaction and sin, she had doomed this very land to its demise. And now a lonely child wanted her to protect his Father?

“Ridiculous...you hold much too great a faith in me, young man...”

As she lay on her bed, her form soon twisted into a fetal one, with big droopy tears enveloping her beautiful eyes and falling down from her cheeks to the linen. She was useless. In the end, she still was. The odd jobs were just a pathetic way of distancing herself from the fact she could never save Fontaine in a way that mattered. And she could certainly never hope to protect anyone, let alone someone much, much stronger than herself and anyone around. How pathetic...

Knock knock knock

At the worst possible moment the door to her room had been knocked in a familiar pattern Furina now learned to recognize, even in her sniffling position. It was Arle.

“Excuse me, may I enter,” asked her polite, muffled voice from behind the steel door. It took everything for Furina to quickly pick herself back up, dry her tears and straighten her posture and expression in a way that did not indicate she was crying her eyes out only a moment ago.

“Of course! This is your room too, you know that right?”

Her voice certainly failed to exude her sadness, something she had had several lifetimes to work on. And thus did the Harbinger make her entrance, just as haggard as when Furina had last seen her, with a half clean tank-top that failed to cover the woman's well-maintened musculature as well as the numerous scars, old and new, constellating her body through and through. A slight heat rose to Furina's cheeks once she realized she was somewhat ogling her, and she thus quickly redirected her inquisitive gaze to the nearest stain on the wall, deflecting with her words what was left unsaid by her looks: “S-so, how was your day? You better not have pushed yourself too hard, you're still injured you know?”

“I can assure you I am quite alright without your supervision.” Her answer was plain, infused with a very light amount of sass but not necessarily disrespectful. She was conscious enough of her own state to not want to push herself where it was unnecessary. Arle was a pragmatist after all. No need to force wounds open when there is no good reason to.

The conversation had thus quickly died down, but as Furina was just about to kick-start another vain talking point, most likely about the – extremely unchanging – weather outside, the Knave quickly spoke again: “It seems you have had a chat with my son today. Care to indulge me in what it was about?”

Suddenly the air in the room felt as if it had been completely sucked out, leaving only tension and fear in its wake. The tone of the Harbinger was not particularly different to one who was unused to her ways, but by now Furina had quite adeptly understood she was in “Interrogation” mode, and unconsciously started to rub her fingers while she still could before they happened to be pulled off in a “grave accident”.

“I-I-I c-can quite assure you! Nothing of particular note h-has been said or done or even thought! Really! Absolutely! Delightfully even!”

“Oh really? Freminet seemed much happier for it however. I was about to thank you for whatever conversation you may have had, but clearly, if it was nothing of particular note, I'll save myself the gratitude.”

She'd been had. The tension was quickly recycled back into breathable air, as Arle flashed a subtle grin that could only be described, in a certain vernacular, as “shite-eating”. Furina had completely fallen prey to her true to life Harbinger role, and said Harbinger did it entirely on purpose. Who knew she had such a petty side to her.

“Okay, that was really mean!” Furina used her best weapon in her arsenal, a very cute pout, to disarm her adversary, who simply gave a lighthearted chuckle and a sly comment: “I believe I'm also allowed my own fun from time to time, my dear.”

The petite woman was now unsure of whether the red rising up to her forehead was from her annoyance or that my dear that hit her in the face like a wet towel.

“Regardless,” continued Arle, seemingly with a more serious tone, “I genuinely mean it when I say I want to thank you. Freminet is a timid child who has trouble developing connections with others, so to see him happy to talk with someone else...brings a smile to my face too...” And bring a smile it did, although a melancholic one, Furina thought.

“In truth, we did not talk about many things and I...ended up showing the vulnerable side of myself to him... I fear I may have shamed you, and quite honestly terrified your child.” Her eyes downcast, she once again thought of that horrible moment of panic where she had to be consoled by Freminet, a mere child who already had so many other things to worry about. Just remembering that display of weakness made her want to once again hide inside a hole and never come out, or go to sleep and never wake up. For her own good. For the good of everyone else.

“The vulnerabilities you cannot hide do not make you a subject of shame or ridicule, Furina.” Yet Arlecchino had no such view of her: “You are just as much a victim in the circumstances that bind us in the present. And you've not had the privilege of camaraderie either. I believe most people in your shoes would not have made it this far to begin with. So please, Furina, hold your head high. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

From anyone else's mouth, these words would have felt hollow and performative, but from Arlecchino's well-spoken tongue they sounded like a melody. One that was infused with a touch of strength and wisdom. One that was sung from veritable experience. From Arle's mouth, Furina could believe she deserved to not be ashamed for her tumbles. But there was still a large gap between 'could' and 'should'.

Seeing some manner of hope in her eyes, the Knave spoke up once more to relieve the petite girl of the worries in her heart: “Freminet probably thought best not to tell you, perhaps he simply felt much too shy, however, he has always been a great admirer of yours. I still remember how he would pester me or his other siblings to go see your latest plays...” No drop fell from her eyes, but Furina could have sworn the all-powerful Arlecchino looked like she had cried for just a single second.

“In the end, that is how I gained an appreciation for your performances as well, but his was borne from a place of pure child-like fascination. Perhaps it is of no matter to someone who used to be idol of an entire nation, but for a single night, a timid, lonely child would find the happiest place he belonged within the worlds you created. That, Furina, is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Now the world was a blur for the former Archon, with its shapes and colors twisting in infinitely recurring patterns, resetting at each blink within more blurry forms. Furina could simply no longer contain the tears that seemingly made up her entire body. She cried and cried, but unlike many instances, they were no tears of despair, but of joy, pure joy. The performance she had lived, died and been reborn infinitely for, granting her a lease on a neverending torture. To know, firsthand, that to the eyes of a single, lonely child, it meant everything filled her heart with a form of gratitude she had never felt in...ever.

After emptying her reservoirs, under the gaze of the ever-so-patiently watching Knave, Furina slowly collected herself back to a somewhat presentable state, although she could hardly hide the redness of her eyes and the leftover traces of the tears that fell down her cheeks. She was at least calm to a better degree than earlier. Coughing up a good spell to let the rust of her throat clear up, Furina spoke: “I...thank you for consoling me. Once again.”

“Do not think much of it. I believe that is what friends do, simple as that.”

Friends...still a weird term to use anywhere near a Harbinger, particularly this one. But weirder still was how it tugged at Furina's heartstrings for a reason that was completely unknown to her.

“Nonetheless, thank you,” she continued, brushing off what she didn't care to understand yet, “and I'm...very happy to learn I was of such importance to Freminet growing up. And if I've done even the slightest bit to ease the weight of his tiny shoulders today, I would be all too glad to hear.”

Suddenly something else clicked in her mind. What happened today, there was something else that was said between her and Freminet was there not? Something she should most certainly mention to Arle right now. But it was then that her memories flashed back to the last words from the boy's mouth :

And please, do not tell Father I've made this request of you. I don't...believe she'll take me seriously. It has to...come from you...

Quite the tall task, she thought to herself, but there was no way Furina could go back on her word, especially after hearing about Freminet's admiration of her. What kind of Archon turns her back on her beloved admirers, she almost verbalized, channeling the Furina who died a lifetime ago. Though Archon she may no longer be, her word is absolute.

“Arle...there is something else I wanted to talk to you ab-”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Once again, at even worse a moment, the steel door was knocked on repeatedly, very strongly, signifying some urgency which was quickly conveyed by the frantic voice of a familiar agent of the Spina: “Lady Furina! Lord Arlecchino! I apologize for my sudden presence, but there is an urgent matter requiring your presence at President Navia's office!”

After the Knave voiced their motion to arrive and waited for the man to run off, she quickly put on her signature jacket, quite beautifully singed and worse for wear after her last troubles, while making her way towards the door. Right before leaving ahead of a still shocked Furina, she let a last few words ring in her wake: “We can always speak later, dear. For now, we should make haste.”

…

The two roommates made their way hastily across the narrow corridors of Nouveau Poisson's inner bowels, with Furina following closely behind Arlecchino's lead, the sound of their heels echoing amidst the cold steel silence. Once they arrived towards Navia's office, multiple things seemed strange from the get-go. First of all, a great many people seemed to be present, despite the very small size of the room. Next, a not-insignificant number of medics seemed to also exercise their function, with some occasionally replacing others inside the room with more equipment or drugs. Finally, there were melusines.

Melusines were not an untold sight in the new Fontaine, but they were still reserved for passing along messages between the numerous isolated pockets of survivors or delivering important goods all around the flooded country, thanks in part to their resistance to Primordial Water's horrible effects. However, these melusines here seemed to be neither messengers nor deliverers, and once the pair peeked inside the room, they realized those melusines were actually an escort.

An escort for the head nurse of Fortress Meropide, Sigewinne, currently wounded and being taken care of by the Spina's doctors.

…

The night outside, up in the wilderness, was always quiet, save for the rustling of the winds and the ricochet of raindrops on leaves and grass. Those beautiful sounds of a troubled Mother Nature were music to Cater's ears, who had always preferred the melody of an unclaimed land to that of an exploited one. However, this harmonious silence would rarely last, as another slew of abominations made its way towards him, almost as his moves were no secret. It's not as if he couldn't deal with them. He was no stranger to being constantly surrounded by danger, and these monsters hardly posed a challenge to the seasoned fighter he had become against his will. And thus he cut them down, like cutting grass that's been allowed to grow too long, as if it was second nature. He cut. He cut. And he cut. And he cut again. Within the drops of water scattered by the hydro-based monsters he could see the scattering of his own memories, his own heart shattering into pieces each time he has to wield the weapons of a monster. But he has to. He made a promise, and even if it cost him his humanity, Cater would keep that promise to the end.

As he aimlessly made his way through the darkening forests that survived the flood, the boy in hillichurl's cloth began to notice something peculiar about the ways his foes acted. As strange as it seemed, they all seemed to head in a very specific direction while completely ignoring him. This might have been a lucky break, but Cater was smart enough to realize this could only mean so many things. In all likelihood, the monsters had found a much easier quarry than him, meaning he had to intervene.

He ran. Ran from tree to tree with incredible speed until he made it through a clearing within where the moonlight shone upon a familiar blonde woman surrounded at all sides by these same atrocities he had been fighting forever. It didn't take much thinking for Cater to immediately jump into the fray, cutting into a great many of the beasts all at once with his unorthodox three-bladed weapon.

Initially, Lumine did not quite realize what was happening to cull the number of the monsters that had cornered her this badly, but she took the opportunity in a heartbeat to cut at her own share despite the accumulated fatigue in her limbs and the many, many wounds covering her body from all sides. She had had nary a moment to rest since the traumatic events which had taken place in the abyss, and she thus had to move from place to place, occasionally even having had to swim in the viscoous primordial waters, all the while being constantly chased by these same hydro-based enemies. Yet despite how difficult it felt to even stand right now, let alone her raise her sword, she could never, never let herself be outdone here. She needed to reverse whatever the hell was going on with Fontaine. Then, she needed to go back to that bastard in shining armor and avenge Childe by any means necessary. If anger was the only thing that could keep her alive, she would cherish said anger unto her very last breath. She thus readied her stance, and rushed through the swarms of enemies, cutting them down by the dozens, her body now mixed with primordial residue, rain, water and blood all at once.

Unexpectedly to her, it did not take long before the enemies were all reduced but to 1, and quite the troublesome one at that. A Hilichurl Rogue. The rational side of her brain was screaming at her to stop and think, but she was much too tired and enraged to listen, charging recklessly against the monster before her.

“Stop! I am not your foe, traveler.”

Right as her blade crossed his in a strike strong enough to shake the very ground beneath their feet, Lumine finally came back to her senses, recognizing faintly the voice that came from the monster that wasn't one.

“Ca...ter..?” Exhausted and battered, Lumine whispered a single name, full of the relief she felt at having found an ally again, before promptly fainting in his arms. Cater could easily see the signs of fatigue on her body; she had likely not gotten a good night's rest in a long, long while. Grabbing the rather light-weighted woman in his arms, the boy thus continued to run. He was nowhere near exhausted enough to leave his friend behind. He made a promise, after all.

Chapter Text

That day, at the Fortress of Meropide, the whirring, buzzing and clashing of various mechanical parts did not sound any different than what the denizens of that place had grown used to hearing, some for the last month, others since much longer. Hammers hammered, saws sawed, and many came and went, looking for such and such piece to fix such and such equipment. The Fortress had certainly seen better days. Once an imposing bastion as feared as revered, in today's dire times it served as a crumbling safe haven that had grown infuriatingly overcrowded.

A lot of civilians had indeed opted to take the “safer” option of clustering themselves within the iron prison, away from the water's reach by a mere finger's length of fortified glass, and tensions had grown between those who were already inhabitants of Meropide, and those who were essentially its refugees. Nevertheless, those who were capable of holding tools were added to the Fortress' workforce, helping out with the ever growing list of mandatory chores that filled the harmonies of its boisterous choir. Amongst these brave folk was the happy-go-lucky brave journalist who had chosen the Fortress' way not out of concern for her safety but out of a need to catalogue the events that could and would occur within. After all, once Fontaine was back to normal, the people would need a perfect account of these dark days' events, or so Charlotte liked to think. Despite the hopeless times she had yet to give up hope something could be arranged, and while she was initially seen as nosy and annoying, people soon grew to like her plucky attitude and optimistic demeanor. 

Charlotte had a routine she liked to abide by every day, so as to not lose her mojo in the repeating days. In the morning, she would pass by the Production Zone. Her encouragement would effectively serve as a kind of cheerleading to the workers barely awake at the crack of dawn. The journalist's steps would soon lead her around the various areas of construction work in the lower floors of the Fortress. While the bastion was still sturdy, more and more fissures and cracks began to bellow within the iron walls that kept everyone there alive, making this work a concern of the highest order for anyone who did not have an excess of disregard for their own life. It was however an almost Sisyphean task. One hole could be repaired and two would pop. One fissure could be welded and three more would appear. Soon enough, more and more people realized they were merely delaying the inevitable. But Charlotte did not let her journalistic mind get clouded by these dire prognostics and kept on her merry way. At lunch, she would refrain from joining the bulk of the workers at the already overcrowded Coupon Cafeteria, and would instead simply grab a meal to go and reconvene back into her living spaces alongside another woman of a certain renown.

“Heya Chevreuse, sorry if I've kept you waiting, the queues were absurdly long again.”

“It's alright. I was almost excited to be alone.”

The hyperactive journalist and the taciturn captain of the Special Security and Surveillance Division formed an unlikely pair, conjoined less by natural chemistry and moreso by the human desire to latch onto the familiar in extraordinary situations. Charlotte liked being shouldered by a strong and dependable soldier, and as much as she pretended otherwise, Chevreuse was happy to have the white noise of hopelessness in her head brushed off by the pink-haired girl's cheery personality. 

…

Indeed, unlike her partner of circumstance, the soldier had not such a positive outlook on things. To begin with, she had not initially wanted to take part amongst those who would take refuge within the Fortress of Meropide, but once she saw the alarming number of helpless civilians headed that way, she knew they would need more than a simple duke and a few guards to keep chaos to a minimum. As she had figured, the first few days were akin to pandemonium in-between the claustrophobic walls of this prison turned haven. The more blue-blooded of the civilians and prisoners would clash as a result of perceived class differences and violent acts would occur as a result almost daily, and it was only when the Duke made the radical decision to segregate living quarters between the workforce, including the prisoners and volunteers, and the civilians that the situation was made ever so slightly better – although some would charitably qualify the Duke's action as inaction which only served to bury, not solve, the true issue at hand. Regardless, special quarters were made available for those in the citizenry unwilling to mingle with the prison's riff-raff, and while complaints were raised, the Duke assured it was a choice made with the Fortress' long term safety in mind. 

Ever since, security issues had grown lesser, although the stressful times still made for stressful situations, which was why Chevreuse could still hardly catch a break. The current circumstances would have anyone on edge but when you're confronted by selfish and unreasonable people all day long, it soon eats away at your ability to even trust your fellow in this crisis. That is why Charlotte's presence mattered immensely to her. Amidst the deepening resentment she felt for others, having someone at her side who never lost her desire to see the best in everything was soothing, and served to safekeep what little kindness Chevreuse herself still had left.

“Hey can I have that if you're not gonna eat it,” asked Charlotte, already done with her meager meal while Chevreuse was lost in wonderland. She took one look at her own rations, and gave a curt “no” before gulping it all down right in front of the dismayed photographer. This was no time to be absent in reverie. She had a job to do.

Her routine differed quite drastically from her roommate's. Whereas the pink-haired girl haphazardly ran around the fortress, looking for things to do or people to cheer up, Chevreuse would prioritize surveillance of the prisoners, and then go up to check on what passed as a 'residential' area around here. While the former rarely posed an issue, save for the occasional fights, interacting with the folk who one could charitably call 'extremely stuck-up', was a much different ordeal. All in all, she was treated as less than human by the more noble -minded, who saw fit to chastise her for anything and everything simply to vent their frustrations. Not all of them were like this, mind you, as multiple civilians would offer her what meager gifts they could muster, most often for taking care of their husband, brother or son working down in the production zone, but she would, without fail, come across another pain in the arse asking her for the moon and then some. Why does the Duke not visit us personally? Why do we not have better accommodations? Why are we not out yet? Dear Archon in heaven, how Chevreuse wished to have Chiori's silver tongue right beside her at this moment, the selfsame tongue she used to see as a disruptive quirk of hers. But the purple-haired girl was neither a diplomat, nor particularly well-spoken, so she would simply elect to endure the abuse and nothing more. Yet another reason why convening back with Charlotte was essential for her mental well-being, lest she became completely mad before any of them saw the sunlight again.

“If I knew when we'd get out...I'd write the date on a bloody banner...” she muttered in her own breath, resigned frustration exuding from her very core. As for the Duke's whereabouts, she couldn't even have answered had she wanted to. He is best described as elusive, although some would call him a ghost at this point. After the agitated first days of their confinement, he all but vanished from the public eye, making very rare appearances, always around his own office. The only one who seemed to know was the head nurse, Sigewinne. But then again she seemed to know everything going on in this prison down to the detail. Chevreuse was already well acquainted with her from their previous lives, and found her to be trustworthy, sharp and slightly scary. In fact, one of her last destinations of the day took her directly to her office.

Chevreuse timidly peeked her head in to see if the nurse in question was away or not, but before she could even see her the melusine's voice came right out: “You may come in!” 

Sharp and slightly scary...

Making her way down the small stairs leading to the numerous beds in the room, Chevreuse methodically sat down on one and waited for her daily check-up, not without voicing her usual bout of complaints: “I get you're worried Sigewinne, but is it really useful checking up on me everyday? Can't I just come after I get into a fight?”

“No no no, this won't do at all! You need to always be in top shape, do you not?” objected the melusine hopping towards Chevreuse, her stethoscope, as well as an entire first aid kit, in her very small hands. This was overkill, surely, but it's not like Sigewinne didn't deserve her credentials. She was the head nurse for a reason after all. As such, just as she did every other day, Chevreuse simply let the melusine do her check-ups, clearly too tired to muster another complaint.

“Hmm, you seem to be doing just fine physically,” exclaimed Sigewinne cheerfully, prompting a bored sigh of relief from her patient. “Geez, I'm not at death's door then, nice.” But as she was about to stand up, the head nurse stopped her with a gesture of her hand. 

“While your physical health is perfect, I still need to do a mental check-up,” she explained, putting away her medical tools in exchange for a simple pen and clipboard, only to sit right beside Chevreuse before asking her a battery of mundane questions regarding her life on the daily.

“Have you been eating well?” “As much as one can in these circumstances.”

“Do you sleep well?” “Charlotte talks in her sleep, but it's weirdly comforting?”

“Any fights or disagreements with your peers?” “I've yet to kill anyone, which frankly is an achievement in my book.”

Sigewinne then continued to question her patient who seemed bored beyond belief. By now Chevreuse had grown used to these sorts of proceedings, but she still felt it was all superfluous. What use was there in gauging her mental state to begin with? She was fine, she was functional, she did her job and she didn't cause any issues. Wasn't that enough? To begin with, who even could have a perfectly sound mind under the current circumstances? The people trapped within this iron prison had not seen the sun in over a month. They had no clue if this state of affairs was a temporary or permanent one, technical issues arose more and more frequently, and every single day spent here was yet another source of bulging tension for prisoners, workers and civilians alike. What was there to be happy about? If anything, being sane right now was closer to being a mental ailment.

“Alright, I just have one more question and you're good to go,” stated Sigewinne matter-of-factly, seemingly more focused on the notes she had taken on that clipboard of hers. But before she said anything else, she put it aside and looked deeply within Chevreuse's eyes. As a soldier and captain, the purple-haired woman was not meant to be easily frightened, but several chills went down her spine while caught beneath the melusine's deceivingly imposing gaze. Thus she simply waited in silence for that last question of hers.

“What do you intend to do, once we can go outside again?”

…

It was no easy job being the Head Nurse, especially not in this sort of environment, but by now Sigewinne had proven herself to be the single best remedy to people's tension and stress. As good as she was for healing wounds of the flesh, many more suffered from wounds of the heart, and it was up to her to soothe them. But no matter how many times it had been, it was never easy to accept that there were ailments she had no cure for. Infections, injuries, illnesses, those had simple, clear-cut remedies that she could use, but a damaged mind is a much more fickle patient which required a much more delicate and personal approach.

Chevreuse was a strong girl. Born from a soldier, followed through and became one herself. Under the current circumstances she was doing her very best to abide by her training and help the people she had sworn to protect. But the cracks which formed beneath her shell of strength had become apparent to Sigewinne. So focused on her tasks and duties, she had grown much more bitter and cynical. There was no worry she would stray from her path, but the melusine grew increasingly worried for her over the last month. If overtime she simply became a mindless automaton laser-focused on her work, what would become of her in a Fontaine that could heal from the damages of the Flood?

What do you intend to do, once we go outside again?

Such a simple question, yet it had given the purple-haired woman pause. After which, a laconic answer confirmed all of Sigewinne's fears:

I...don't like to think about the future these days.

As her worried musings occupied her mind, Sigewinne's small steps took her right into Duke Wriothesley's office, almost by some manner of automatism. It's not as if she particularly needed the Duke's input at the moment, but in those rare moments where she couldn't quite deal with her own troubles, coming here was her way of soothing her mind. And it also meant she could check up on the introverted lord of these halls, something no one else really could with his penchant for keeping to himself and his little office.

Once she climbed up the stairs into Wriothesley's chambers, which doubled, tripled and quadrupled as conference room, workplace and tea salon, the unnaturally common sight in front of her stole a heavy sigh of admonishment from the melusine.

“You cannot keep falling asleep over your desk, it's terrible for your posture!”

The cute, albeit frustrated rant slowly woke the lethargic Duke from his seemingly uncomfortable position. As he let a slow yawn escape his lips, Wriothesley looked towards the general direction of the head nurse, a few stray sheets of paper failing to unstuck themselves immediately from his face because of the mixture of drool and sweat that had accumulated therein.

“It's fine, I'm a big boy Sigewinne, my back will not break over a few naps.”

“ A few is starting to become a great too many, so please fix that habit before I have to manually realign your spine .”

It truly was a gift to be so soft-spoken and adorable, yet so utterly terrifying at the same time, prompting the Duke to immediately sit up straighter than he was, while nonetheless keeping his usual lackadaisical attitude. He was not in good shape and it was plain to see. His ordinarily sharp gaze seemed hazy and unfocused, complemented by the deep purple bags under his eyes. Over the course of the last month, and despite his best efforts, he had lost a significant amount of his musculature due to the lack of appropriate rations to maintain it as well as his long hours spent doing desk work. The Flood had a similar effect on most people, mind you, but it seemed particularly striking once you applied said effect to a man who used to cut such an imposing and noble figure.

“Well, if you're finished with the life lessons, I need to get back to my work. These maintenance plans ain't gonna draw themselves.” There seemed to be little to no care in his voice, as if the one who desperately needed better rest was an entirely different person.

“You need the rest, please don't make me use the tranquiliz-”

“Sigewinne, give it a rest.”

Even the melusine's authority was not enough within these walls to stand up to the Duke once he was serious. Despite his physical state, it was still clear to see he was dead set on this course of action, and Sigewinne could do naught but let out yet another frustrated sigh. Was she so useless in her duties she couldn't even better the health of her direct superior, nay, her friend? 

Perhaps sensing the tense air he provoked, Wriothesley coughed a few times and continued talking, this time his tone noticeably gentler:

“Look, I know you're worried about me, and I know I need a break. But I... I can't simply rest on my laurels while everyone in here is working together to survive. The prisoners, the volunteers, the officers, and of course, you. You've all been doing such pain-staking work. I have to act too. To protect us all.”

Perhaps even more than the irreverent and lax Duke, this was the one Sigewinne hated the most – the earnest and reasonable one. The one she had no chance of ever budging from his stance. This was the Duke she found the most difficult to deal with, as well as the one she had the highest respect for. How unfair.

“I understand. At least let me bring you some herbal tea.”

“That would be greatly appreciated, thank you Sigewinne.”

As the little melusine slowly headed out of the Duke's office, she looked again behind her at the figure of the large man hunched over difficult to parse construction blueprints. Something about this sight broke Sigewinne's heart. To her who had watched over that boy who once was a prisoner here only to rise up the ranks and become the benevolent Duke of these halls, his current state was akin to a microcosm of the times they lived in. Humans are frail creatures. Tragedy breaks them, reshapes them, they become nigh unrecognizable by the end, and she didn't want to see that happen. Whether it was Wriothesley or Chevreuse or anyone else for that matter, she couldn't bear to see all of them slowly fall apart and decay. That was an expression of the love she felt towards all humans, but also towards the people she cared about as friends and fellows. How would she protect them? 

Her hands had always been small, but now it felt as though they couldn't reach anywhere.

…

Hours after Sigewinne's impromptu visit, Wriothesley had not moved an inch from his previous position, still diligently assessing and taking on his workload. It seemed the technical problems one could reasonably expect from an entire fortress submerged within volumes of water it had not originally been designed to withstand were making themselves more frequent by the day. At first it was merely a few leaky pipes, although that prospect alone was cause for major concern. Before long however, it soon evolved into multiple failures in all sectors, from the rust invading their walls to screws popping off due to the pressure outside. The most urgent and pressing matter at the moment was finding ways to solidify their defenses, lest the entire building went under. As if that wasn't enough of a handful, there was also the ever growing concern surrounding the dwindling supplies of rations. Just like Nouveau Poisson, Meropide also made frequent use of the melusines' capabilities to get provisions from the outside world, but it would seem said outside had grown terribly hostile, with injuries in the couriers becoming all too usual. And on top of it all, there were worrying reports that the water levels had been observed to rise again, after a month of inactivity. If this was true, they would soon have a much bigger issue on their hands than the lack of food or frayed walls. They would not even have air to breathe.

“Hah...give me a damn break...”

Wriothesley heaved a heavy sigh of frustration at nothing in particular, alone as he was. The weight of all these issues came and suffocated him like the very sea outside would. At least, if he still couldn't find a more durable solution. He thought back to that day, when Fontaine's very essence changed and he made the reckless choice of sheltering himself and anyone he could away from the floods. Had it truly been the best course of action? Or should he have opted to search for hope outside, somewhere, like the Spina's scion did? Deep down however, he knew these seeds of regret were bound to wither away. No matter what he did, the prisoners here would still have been left alone to rot. Being here, protecting his people, was something he could not afford to feel guilt over. This was the choice of a Duke, simple as.

Before his thoughts lead him any further, the raven-haired man suddenly realized he could not quite read what was right in front of him. Was it simply fatigue? He blinked once, twice, thrice in an attempt to refocus his sight but to no avail. 

“Damnit, I can't work like this. I might as well take a breather...”

Disgruntled and quite frankly pissed, he slowly rose from his seat, letting his legs adjust to the shift in position. A little walk wouldn't do him any bad regardless, even if it felt frustrating to have to waste more time that could be spent further studying his schematics. Whilst missing a step and very nearly putting an unfortunate end to his dukely tenure, Wriothesley realized his vision did seem to get better over time. Reassuring. At best it was a temporary ailment and at worst, a simple pair of spectacles would solve all his problems. Nothing that a trip to the nurse's office couldn't remedy.

Unlike the journalist, whose path was determined by whatever triggered her interest in the morning, the soldier, whose directions were carefully laid out and to which she strictly adhered, and the nurse, who would mostly stick to her own office, the duke's, as well as the cafeteria during lunch hours, when Wriothesley went on a walk, it was haphazard, aimless, seemingly random even. The workers would stop and stare, occasionally saluting the lord of the halls with varying degrees of respect. Those who had come from outside shared little of that reverence, wondering out loud instead why their so-called 'Duke' never deigned to show himself or visibly contribute to the workforce, unknown to them of course was the fact he stood on the paperwork side of business. Wriothesley never blamed them of course. He had done nothing to really clean his image, content on subsisting with the credibility offered to him by the people who had already seen his merits for themselves. Sigewinne had warned him that this sort of reputation might well come to bite him one day, but it felt wholly superfluous to him. He was not the right person to ask for moral support or a leading hand, and thus he would strive to work in the background, to ensure the very foundations of his prison, nay, his haven, stood strong against the calamity.

Despite the unconscious nature of his stride, the Duke found himself conveniently passing right by Sigewinne's office, although the nurse was seemingly absent. As he pondered whether to take a lazy peek inside or not, the figure of a familiar woman appeared as she walked outside, stretching and yawning after what seemed like a fairly comfortable nap.

“Slept well, officer Chevreuse?”

The woman immediately froze, finding her own behavior suddenly much too embarrassing a showcase of herself. Suffocating the last remnants of a big yawn, and bringing her arms back down, she took up a rigid, well-disciplined stance as she faced the Lord of these halls.

“Yes sir,” her emotionless, neutral tone let out, “but I would think our Duke above laying such ambushes towards women.”

“Hey, I'm innocent, I swear!” His voice was slightly apologetic, but mostly light-hearted. He could tell from Chevreuse's eyes she was also speaking in jest. Perhaps to bring some levity, in her own taciturn way.

Wriothesley continued, with more gravity in his tone, “I'm glad you seem to be doing well, Sigewinne seemed pretty worried as of late, and I have an inkling it's related to you.”

“Ah...my apologies. I did not mean to worry her.”

“Ehh, you could have been the very picture of health and she would still find something to worry about, don't think about it too hard.” He shared a complicit smile with the purple-haired girl, both knowing how true of a statement this was about their kind, affable nurse. “However,” he soon continued, with an almost paternal twang, “you definitely ought to take better care of yourself, especially in these stressful days. The whole fortress won't crumble if you take a day off, maybe try asking that ball of energy you call a roommate for advice, she seems shockingly happy.”

…

Chevreuse listened, and listened intently. This was now Sigewinne and Wriothesley both, the two most important people around, telling her to take a breather and she did not know quite what to do. It felt like her sole purpose, her very raison d'être here was being taken from here. She understood they had good intentions, that they were right in fact, but what else was a soldier to do, if she could no longer fulfill her duties? What they intended as relief felt closer to a death sentence for her. Chevreuse had to keep working and fighting.

“I understand, I will try to heed your advice,” she lied, and not very convincingly either. Judging by the look the Duke gave her, she still had quite a ways to go in order to become a seasoned liar. I wonder if the Archon gives lessons , her mind intruded, before she quickly shook off such inappropriate thoughts. 

Before the Duke could rebuke her again for her lacking sense of self-care, Chevreuse quickly took to bowing and walking in the opposite direction, if only to avoid another conversation she did not want to have. It would be fine. She didn’t need to be reminded of her own failings, of her own scars. She would simply stand tall and fight, come what may. Until her body could no longer weather the blows, until her blood ran cold, until–

“D-DUKE WRIOTHESLEY!!! A-And officer Chevreuse too! Oh thank the Archon I found you both, we have an emergency!!”

Chevreuse had been violently wrestled out of her thoughts by the panicked cries of a woman she recognized to be one of Meropide’s erstwhile guards, having been stationed here far before the floods. 

“At ease Galvaryet, breathe a spell and make your report.” Wriothesley’s voice had immediately lost any of the childish warmth it held a mere few seconds ago. He spoke with the gravitas that befitted his dukely status, but clashed with his otherwise easygoing personality. 

Meanwhile, the frenzied guard did as she was told and inhaled large, panicked puffs of air, before exhaling it all into the aether. Once she had managed to regain what seemed to be the mere illusion of calm, her word salad came loose from her lips.

“W-We may have a breach in the abandoned production zone! Unidentified monsters suddenly appeared and…and–!!” With her forehead practically melting away sweat like wax, and the clattering of her teeth harsh enough to almost be heard over her actual words, the guard was seemingly unable to fully spit out the final piece of crucial information she still held, and tears had made themselves apparent in the corner of her eyes. 

But before she could be given the time to explain herself, in a swift, yet decisive maneuver, Chevreuse immediately loaded her well-maintained rifle and turned towards the nearest elevator, making a mad dash for it.

“Chevreuse, wait!” But Wriothesely’s call came far too late as the soldier had already sprinted far enough to be completely out of reach. 

It was becoming so much easier to worry for her, what with the troubling signs he’d heard from Sigewinne’s reports and this sudden haste. He quickly tried to follow in her wake, but not before the guard finally managed to sputter out the last few words stuck to her larynx.

And these words were perhaps the most important of all.

“Galvana…I-I saw her…right before she disappeared… The monsters, they’re– they are attacking us with Primordial water!!”

A crumbling King.

A powerless Queen.

A broken Knight.

A naive Pawn.

Ashes to Ashes

Dust to Dust

Of Four Pieces, Two Will Fall.

…

I woke up from a bed of nails. My every pore hurt with the passing of time, the rush of water, the sound of love. I wanted to be held, I wanted to be heard, I wanted to be free from the hurt. But most of all, I wanted to Reunite. Deep inside my crevices, inside the empty holes dug into my muscles and flesh, I had developed this painful, painful urge to Join Them. I wanted to feel whole again. I wanted to no longer be alone. I had to Join them. I have to Join Them. I am One of Them.

A flicker of intelligence struck right at the core of the bestiality encroaching upon the woman’s heart. Everything hurt. Everything was dark. She had no idea how to situate herself, or how to assess the damage she had endured. But she was alive. Or at least, she thought so. 

She slowly let her eyes get accustomed to the darkness of her surroundings, all the while battling the lethargy assaulting her mind at every turn, almost like a wave of malice attempting to consume her whole. She shook it off as best she could, until finally, she could focus on what her eyes could see. 

She seemed to be in a cave without a noticeable exit. Ahead, she could almost make out some kind of ruins, but her current state of mind did not allow her to make out any distinguishable feature that would help her track even the culture those ruins could have belonged to. Closer to her, she found a gun and a sword, her trademark tools, yet so casually tossed before her. She was not the kind to be so cavalier as to disrespect her own weapons.

But it was upon inspecting her body that the raven-haired woman, the one they used to call the Champion Duelist before Fontaine fell, had to stifle her own horrified screams.

To her left, was her arm.

To her right, was nothing.