Chapter Text
The rains had not ceased since the day she left. Three months, exactly, to the day. Furina had tried her hardest to shed away all the remnants of her old life, but old habits die hard, and this particular habit of counting days had begun when her grand performance as the Hydro Archon had. Old, indeed.
It had, however, taken on a new meaning. Instead of being a source of hopelessness and foreboding like always, it now gave her a strange sense of comfort, because she could feel the passage of time again, and each increment to the counter felt like it finally was able to mean something.
Three months ago, after the completion of her duties, she had rushed to her quarters, taken what little possessions she cared for, and ran. She was not proud of her actions in that moment, how the aftermath of the crisis played out, but she could not fend off the voice within her that just shouted at her to leave. It was easier just to listen. It was good to give in, for once.
After days of aimless yet determined traveling, she had settled within a small, nameless village at the edge of Fontaine’s borders. There was a part of her that longed to leave the nation behind completely, to leave behind the source waters of all the pain she had endured, but she never had the heart to carry through with the idea.
There were still anchors tying her to this land.
Neuvillette was the first to come to mind. He had been the closest thing she had to a friend these past centuries.
And yet, she couldn’t ignore the sharpness in her chest every time she recalled his face from when he delivered her verdict, even though she knew, deep down, he acted with the best interest of Fontaine at heart. She couldn’t erase the image from her mind, especially how he pointedly, purposefully avoided meeting her eyes as he pronounced her guilty. He had never done that to any of the other defendants he had condemned.
Perhaps that was why she left without offering him a proper goodbye — and in such a hurry as well, afraid that she would risk facing him again if he managed to find her somehow.
As much as her decision to leave was made and enacted in haste, she rather liked the new life she had stumbled across and haphazardly carved out for herself. She had found refuge in a humble, abandoned cottage that she managed to make her own. Not having daily, demanding obligations was also a strange and new experience, but not an unwelcome one, and she soon learned to fill her newfound free time with hobbies.
She learned to bake desserts, specifically the ones she had been so fond of from the city that she could no longer easily procure. She cultivated a garden, and soon rainbow roses and various local vegetables began sprouting from the backyard.
And whenever she grew restless, she would take a leisurely walk along the edge of the waters, always with an umbrella in hand.
It was also during one of these walks that she spotted two familiar figures off in the distance. She had come across people before along her strolls, usually villagers who lived nearby, but she had always adjusted her path accordingly in an attempt to avoid conversations and the scrutiny of their gaze. There was no telling if she would be recognized or not, even with all the changes she had made to her appearance, but better not to leave the situation up to chance.
But she was a hair too slow to turn around this time.
“Furina!” Paimon’s voice rang out.
Reluctantly, Furina stayed put as Paimon and Lumine approached, both soaked to the bone in the storm.
“You look so different now,” Lumine remarked with wide eyes. “And your hair, you’ve cut it short.”
“You two look — well,” Furina struggled.
“As well as we can be considering we probably look like wet dogs,” laughed Lumine. “We’ve been in the Sumeru desert for the past few weeks and only came up here to complete some commissions for Katheryne.”
“Yeah, it kind of made us forget about, well, all this water, so we didn’t prepare for the rain,” Paimon added.
The two companions joked and bantered easily, but Furina could see a kind of wariness behind their gazes whenever they glanced in her direction. Lumine and Paimon were just as uncertain about how to navigate the conversation as herself. Of course, how could they be certain? Last they saw each other, the traveler had deceived her and then proceeded to stand in a courtroom and tear down her centuries of work in the span of a short trial. They ruined her reputation, irreparably.
Still, Furina was able to admit that she missed having some semblance of company around after these last few months of solitude.
Despite all the complicated feelings that hung in the air, she also knew that Lumine was as good a candidate for the role as she was going to get. After all, Lumine alone witnessed the exact details of her five-hundred-year plight — though she knew not how, she had felt the traveler in her head as Furina herself was also forced to relive every single one of those long, interminable years — and that meant Paimon had to know as well.
So there was a chance they saw her as more than just a liar who deceived Fontainians and robbed them of a true Archon for centuries. Even if Furina struggled to see herself beyond that light.
So reluctantly, tentatively, she asked, “Would you two like to dry off at my place? I also have some cake I made recently that we could share.”
Paimon’s eyes lit up at the mention of food and agreed without a second of additional thought.
Lumine also nodded, despite the decision having already been made.
The trio made their way back to the cottage squeezed tightly under Furina’s singular umbrella. As they dried themselves and each began devouring a slice of crêpe cake, Lumine said, “Do you suppose this storm will let up soon? Maybe we can shelter in place here and wait it out.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Furina gave an almost imperceptible smile, expressing genuine amusement for the first time in a while. “It’s been raining for three months straight.”
“What!” Paimon exclaimed, brows frowning in consternation, mouth still half full of pale blue frosting.
Lumine chuckled, “What’s got our Hydro Dragon all worked up?”
Furina’s expression fell instantly at the mention of Neuvillette. She shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, I thought if anyone knew, it’d be you,” Paimon said, head tilted to the side with bemusement, not one for mincing her words.
“We haven’t spoken. Since the trial.”
Understanding seeped into Lumine’s eyes as she quietly asked, “He doesn’t know you’re here either then, I’m guessing?”
A curt nod of confirmation.
Lumine and Paimon shared a look that could only be described as pitying, and Furina felt an uncontrolled yet unwanted sense of bitterness welling up within her.
Why?
Why would they feel that way?
Was it because everyone else was able to move on with their lives but she alone couldn’t? Because she was still paying the price?
“I — I just remembered I have some things I still need to attend to,” Furina murmured.
Lumine nodded, hearing the implications clearly. “Right, it’s about time we head out, Paimon. There are still more commissions to finish. Do you mind if we borrow the umbrella, though? We’ll return it as soon as we’re able to.”
Furina gestured to it openly.
As the two companions walked off, Lumine hesitated and turned her head back to give a small wink. “Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone you’re here. Not until you say you’re ready.”
“Wow, you really weren’t kidding when you said the storm wouldn’t let up any time soon,” Paimon shook her head in disapproval.
She had returned a week later with Lumine, knocking on Furina’s door with the borrowed umbrella in tow.
They returned again the next week, and the next, and the next.
Some of the visits lasted mere minutes, just an exchange of greetings and gifts and goodbyes. Some were hours long as Furina sat listening to their vivid stories of faraway lands, of love and loss and experiences so foreign to her. Lumine and Paimon had both been careful to avoid any more mentions of mutual friends or acquaintances, especially Neuvillette, but it was eventually Furina herself who brought up the topic.
“How is he doing?”
Lumine paused, uncertain how to answer.
“I’d like to know,” Furina said in earnest.
“Oh, you know, how he is,” Paimon jumped in, laughing in an attempt to conceal the nascent strain in her voice. “Not the type to talk about his feelings at all, the same as always. He’s —”
“— not well,” Lumine cut in.
Paimon’s eyes widened as Furina’s own narrowed.
“He’s sick?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“He must be angry, then.”
Puzzled, Lumine scrunched her brows. “What makes you say that?”
“This,” she waved her hand at the brewing storm outside her window, “and the fact that he never got to see justice for my crimes of deceiving the people. I never answered for it properly. I’m sure he’s got plenty to be upset about.”
“Oh Furina,” Paimon reached out and touched her shoulder lightly with a hand. “Fontaine is safe. That’s justice enough.”
“I’m not quite sure he’d see it that way.”
The two companions fell quiet. They shared that look again with each other, but Furina chose to ignore it this time around for her peace of mind. Lumine finally ended up being the one to break the silence. “He’s hard to read, but I am certain he’s not angry. It’s more like...he’s off-kilter somehow. I understand if you don’t want to just take our word for it, however. Feel free to go and see it for yourself.”
The idea was unthinkable. “I can’t.”
And yet, the thought refused to leave her mind.
This was the first time Furina had walked through the streets in the City of Fontaine in relative obscurity. She had taken care to sport a large, wide-brimmed hat that easily covered her visage and a long, flowing dress that hid any semblance of her figure from the view of unsuspecting onlookers. Even her room reservation at Hotel Debord had been made ahead of time for her by Lumine, under Lumine’s name.
When she had informed the traveler of her plans to pay a brief visit to the city, Lumine surprisingly offered no opinions on the matter, nor expression of shock, and only asked if there was anything she and Paimon could possibly do to help.
Furina had been grateful for their presence as they tagged alongside her for the past two days, but as soon as they had stepped within the vicinity of the city walls, she had found that Lumine and Paimon’s renown drew them more attention than she would have liked. Her companions did seem to take note of her tension and together, had hurried to the hotel without any detours.
Sleeping did not come easily to her most nights, but she had been so drained from the trip that she collapsed into a dreamless slumber as soon as she laid down on the bed.
She had woken that morning bright and early, and yet, it was not until noon that Furina finally managed to leave the sanctity of her private room and started making her way to the Opera Epiclese.
This last leg of the trip she knew she had to face alone.
The walk along the promenade down to the Fountain of Lucine was simultaneously one of the longest and shortest ones she had ever had to withstand in her life. The rains were only a drizzle today, but even bad weather was not enough to deter Fontainians from idling around the fountain and the court. She passed them by, unnoticed.
She heard the sounds of the court proceedings just before she slipped into the main auditorium through the back, silent as a shadow. Most of the seats were filled already, with audience members who were too transfixed by the ongoing trial to pay her any mind as she gingerly sat herself down in one of the cushioned seats in the very last row.
The defendant appeared to be in the middle of a retelling of some engrossing tale, but she hardly listened as her eyes gravitated immediately to the reason she came.
Neuvillette’s face was settled into its usual placidity, but after centuries of having seen every one of his expressions, she could tell there was some darkness hidden behind the mask, even from such a great distance. Everything else was as expected. He was neatly groomed and dressed in his typical uniform, posture straightened, commandeering, composed. Lumine had been right to a degree. He wasn’t angry, and he betrayed almost no hints of being unwell, but there was something slightly off with his presentation. Thankfully, as she studied him, his gaze never broke away from the accused, taking in each of his words with careful consideration.
She appeared to have arrived right at the tail-end of the trial, because after the plaintiff shot back a final counterpoint, all parties fell silent, and Neuvillette raised a hand to his chin in contemplation of the facts presented.
A low buzzing began in her ear, drowning out the quiet murmurs of the crowd and Neuvillette’s voice as he began speaking again, presumably to deliver a final verdict. The scene laid out in front of her felt too familiar, too reminiscent of —
With her chest constricted and her breath fast and shallow, Furina could not stop herself from rushing out of the courtroom in a flurry.
A few opera house employees looked at her questioningly as she stumbled past them towards the grand entrance, but she paid them no mind as she pulled the brim of her hat down lower, further obscuring her face. Only when she stood in front of the fountain did she finally manage to calm herself enough to slow her breathing.
She lowered herself onto the edge of the fountain and forced herself to focus on the bubbling of the water and the tinkling of coins that a pair of children had just tossed in after making wishes. Anything to drown out the flashing imagery of her own trial that had invaded her brain just moments earlier. After a continuous while of this exercise, she was left feeling almost normal again, or as close to it as she could be, and so she was able to notice when whispering picked up in the crowds idling around her.
She didn’t dare look up.
“Lady Furina.”
There was no escaping it. She finally raised her eyes to meet those of the Chief Justice. “It’s just Furina now, did you forget?”
“Furina,” he corrected himself at her behest and sat down beside her on the fountain’s edge, though careful to maintain a distance between them. The whispering intensified further even as the bystanders all tried their best to come across as nonchalant.
Furina could feel her palms beginning to sweat, but Neuvillette’s presence helped somewhat in staving off the distracting surroundings. She spoke before he could. “How did you know it was me?”
“Your presence was enough.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant but decided not to pursue it. Instead, she rose to her feet. “Sorry to cut this short, but I do have to get going now.”
“Will you be more free tomorrow, then, perchance?”
“I —”
“It would...provide me a great deal of joy if we could speak, at your availability.”
He was terribly awkward, and he made Furina’s heart hurt a little. After a moment of pause, she found that she didn’t have the resolve to refuse. “I can come to your office tomorrow at the end of the day.”
He remained unmoving as she walked off, and in her bewildered state, she hadn’t even noticed that the rains had stopped.