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Now, this was an unusual sight.
"Lady Furina," Wriothesley said, his voice only giving away the mildest of surprise. "To what do I owe this honour?"
His unexpected guest jumped and made a bit to conceal herself behind a box. It did not work.
Quite aside from the fact that the former Hydro Archon had just turned up in front of him, how on earth had she managed to get in? Security at Meropide was so tight that a visitor had to sign a stack of waivers just to step past the front door. Even the Chief Justice could not simply come and go as he pleased, so how did Furina - who was, for all intents and purposes, now a perfectly ordinary citizen - manage to sneak in?
"I'm not angry with you," He said after a moment, though he wasn't sure why he felt the need to. "To be honest, I just wanna know how you got here."
Furina just stared up at him, eyes wide. She was still attempting to camouflage with the rusty metal around her, and though her current attire wasn't as flashy as her old outfit, it was still far too blue to blend in with all that brown. She looked a little like a cat who'd been caught stealing from the pantry; admittedly, it was an amusing sight, but he still felt a little bad.
"...can I tempt you with a cup of tea?" He asked eventually.
Wriothesley was not a religious man, nor had he revered Fontaine's beloved god the same way most of the population did. And, technically, Furina was no longer the Archon - she'd abdicated the throne once the flood was over. So it was strange that it was now, of all times, that he suddenly felt the need to be extra courteous.
Of course, he'd never had direct contact with Lady Furina before. The closest he'd gotten was during his trial as a teenager, and she hadn't even stuck around to hear the verdict then - he remembered feeling vaguely offended afterwards. And, since becoming Duke, the most communication he'd had with her was through Monsieur Neuvillette.
So it was quite the jarring change to have her sitting quietly on the other side of his desk, stirring her tea round and round the cup.
He lifted his own cup to his lips and took a lingering sip. The silence was a little unbearable, but he could barely think of anything to say. He'd have expected her to be more lively, based on what he'd heard of her performances, but she still had yet to say a word to him.
"It's good," He offered after a moment. "Promise. I'm not an expert brewer, but I'm hardly producing poison, either."
Furina cleared her throat and nodded. She still didn't drink it, though.
They sat in silence for another long while. He coughed. "...so, Lady Furina—"
"Just Furina."
"—ah, right... Miss Furina." It wasn't exactly what she'd asked for, but it felt wrong not to add any honorific at all. "How did you get into the Fortress? This place is supposed to be impenetrable, you know."
She was silent for a moment, though this time it seemed to be to consider her words. She seemed more at ease now that she realised he wasn't about to slap a pair of handcuffs on her and drag her to a cell. "...I hid in a box."
"A box?" He repeated, more than a little bemused.
"In your food shipments," She clarified. "With the flour."
Wriothesley stared at her for a moment. Then he burst into laughter.
Furina's expression shifted, then took a turn for the irritated. "Hey! Just what are you laughing at?!"
"Nothing, nothing, I just—" He took a breath and composed himself. "—it's that simple, is it?"
It was certainly a trope he'd heard of, but he couldn't imagine someone thinking it'd work in real life. Perhaps this was precisely why Furina had gotten away with it. And, honestly, it was a fitting way for a master of performance to enter the stage, wasn't it?
"Yes, it is," She said a little indignantly. "Anyway, you ought to be grateful that I—"
She cut herself off. Then she suddenly shook her head, and went back to staring down at her cup.
Wriothesley still hadn't quite gotten over his mirth. He took a while to make sure the lines of his face were stiff and serious again. In all that time, Furina only moved to take her first, tentative sip of her tea.
"...I won't ask why you're here," He said finally. "But you should really call ahead of time if you're going to visit."
Furina remained quiet. Wriothesley sighed internally. It was just like with Monsieur Neuvillette - he'd come down to take some reports just a week ago, and though his face had remained impassive, Wriothesley had gotten the feeling he'd been moping the entire time.
Were they connected? He didn't doubt it. Before now, the Iudex and the Archon had been quite inseparable as a concept. Most of their appearances in public were made together, and they were the one constant at every trial in the Opera Epiclese. He supposed it was difficult to adjust to being apart so suddenly. Though what was stopping them from simply seeking each other out outside an official capacity...?
He looked up at Furina again. She looked so small and lifeless. Quite the opposite of the booming presence she was said to have.
Seized by a sudden, inexplicable sympathy, he asked, "Penny for your thoughts?"
He only half-expected to get a response. Furina set her cup down on the desk - she'd managed to drain half of it while he wasn't looking - then sighed.
"...I wanted to get away," She said after a moment. "That's why I'm here."
Wriothesley tilted his head in a silent gesture to continue. Furina obliged.
"Everyone's always looking at me," She murmured. "Like I'm their god, or like I'm a monster. No matter where I go. Down here..."
"Meropide is isolated," Wriothesley finished for her. "No one cares who you were before you arrived. So, am I to assume you're arresting yourself?"
She shook her head. "...I just... needed a break."
Breaking into Meropide is serious business, the rational part of him wanted to say. It's not some kind of vacation spot.
But he couldn't bring himself to. For a moment there, Furina looked so... tired. It made any words he might have had evaporate on the spot.
"...mind telling me your story?" He prompted quietly.
He wasn't sure what had brought on the sudden empathy. Perhaps it was the fact that he knew Furina was already aware of his own story, and so wanted to hear her own. Perhaps he was just tired of dealing with such an unreceptive Iudex. Perhaps he was curious about what had really happened on the day of the flood.
Either way, he wasn't expecting much of it. But Furina looked up at him, and began to speak.
She was not a god. She never had been. Five hundred years ago, the god Focalors isolated her divinity and sealed it away in the Oratrice, leaving her humanity to walk Fontaine without so much as a Vision. Furina was as ordinary in constitution as anyone; she had simply been cursed with immortality. This was the true Hydro Archon's plan: to fool the Heavenly Principles, that the people of Fontaine be saved.
And so Furina had played her part. For five centuries, she maintained the act - kept the mask so close to her face that no one ever suspected a thing. She did not know the God of Justice's plan; all she knew was that she had to keep going, or else all would be lost. She could try, grasp at strings and search for answers, but no matter how long the solitude stretched, no matter how endlessly she suffered, she couldn't say a thing.
All ended with her trial. The Primordial Sea burst forth, and yet... no one dissolved. Focalors had deceived Celestia, and Fontaine was saved. Furina was free. But free to do what? She didn't know what to do now. She barely knew who she was.
Wriothesley was silent for a long time after the story concluded. It was the sort of fantastic tragedy that would play out on a stage - not to a real, breathing human. Nevertheless... he believed her.
Furina slumped as soon as she finished talking. There was a kind of exhausted relief painted across her face.
So he was the first person in five hundred years she had ever confided in. Wriothesley wasn't sure why he of all people should be afforded the honour. Had she refused everyone else? Or, worse - was he simply the first to ask?
There was still an inch of tea left in his cup, but it was stone cold. What do to, what to do...?
"Tell you what," He said. "You aren't opposed to Miss Lynette's company, are you?"
Furina lifted her head and gave him an odd look. "Why would I be?"
"I'll take that as a no." He wondered whether he ought to have telegraphed the invitation more subtly. Ah, nothing for it. "I'm having her around for tea next week. You're welcome to join us."
"...huh?" She seemed completely bewildered - but only for a moment. "A-ah, no! No need, I shouldn't impose."
"Impose? Dear me, no. We're friends now, aren't we?" He gave her a small grin. "There'll be cake."
That seemed to catch her interest. "...what kind?"
"Whichever kind you like. You're the guest of honour, after all."
"Hey! Did you not listen to a word I said?" She folded her arms, puffing her cheeks, and it was- kind of adorable, actually. Like watching a kitten hiss at its reflection. "I'm not the Archon, remember?"
"Ah, but Archon or not, you remain our Lady Furina," He reminded her, and dropped into a mock bow over his desk. "Forget godhood, you're still a celebrity. I might be all the way down here in Meropide, but even I've heard of your stage performances... say, if I put on a record, would you sing for us?"
"You're pushing it," She warned - and though he technically held the power here, him being Duke of the Fortress and her simply a former God, he found himself deferring automatically. "I'll have to see if I'm free. But I will consider coming."
Wriothesley's grin widened a little. It was easier to feel light now that she seemed to be behaving more like herself. Though... he supposed neither of them knew what 'herself' was.
"Excellent. Why not bring Clorinde with you?" He paused, then decided that, while he was here, he might as well help rebuild bridges. "And Monsieur Neuvillette, too, if you can wrangle him. We'll make a tea party of it."
"I haven't agreed to come," She retorted after a moment. He didn't miss the way she faltered a little upon hearing the second name. "...they're both busy people. I haven't spoken to either of them in a long time, anyway."
"Oh, but who could say no to our Regina of All Waters, Kindreds, Peoples and Laws?" He teased, hoping it might ease her mood a little. "Certainly not Monsieur Neuvillette, I'll wager. Clorinde might take a little more convincing, though..."
He chuckled to himself - then realised that Furina had gone quiet again. Soon enough he did as well, feeling it inappropriate to keep laughing when his guest suddenly looked so sombre. "Uh... did I say something wrong?"
"...I am not Focalors," Furina said finally. "I'm not the God of Justice, and I never have been. I've only ever been an actor - no Regina of Waters, or anything else. You do understand that, don't you?"
Wriothesley remained quiet for another moment. He sighed, rounded his desk, and sat down again, steepling his hands before his face.
"...honestly, I don't get this Archon stuff," He said finally. "What I'm hearing is that the reason we didn't dissolve is down to you. Sounds pretty godly to me."
"But I'm not." She sounded insistent now. "I'm human. I'm completely ordinary. I wouldn't have survived the Primordial Sea, either."
"Yeah, I heard what happened at your trial. People won't shut up about it." Wriothesley gave her an unusually stern look. "...I didn't agree with their methods before, and now... well, I suppose ignorance makes fools of us all. They shouldn't have done that to you."
"But what else could they have done?" She asked. "How else could they deal with the Hydro Archon who couldn't do anything to stop the sea?"
Wriothesley was silent for a while. "...I don't know. I guess it was impossible on all sides, wasn't it?"
Furina did not respond this time. Instead, she swung one leg over the her, chin leaning in her hand, and scrutinised him.
It reminded him of the figure he'd seen up on that balcony in the Opera Epiclese, on the day of his trial. Lady Furina had never seemed more godly then, and now, even in wake of the truth... to be honest, nothing much had changed.
"Look, Furina," He said after a while, finally dropping the formal address. "To be honest, I couldn't care less about Focalors and her grand plan. You spent five hundred years stuck in one performance - you didn't drop it even when everyone was turning against you. That's pretty damn admirable, and if I'm going to pledge allegiance to any god, that's the kind of God of Justice I'd be willing to pray to."
Furina didn't speak for a long while. Despite that, Wriothesley thought he spied a smile.
"...I don't want to worshipped as a god any more," She said quietly. "If I'm going to be praised, I want it to be for something I'm proud of. These five centuries of performance... I don't want to remember them."
"Then we'll never speak of it again," He said easily, and laughed when she looked up at him in surprise. "What? You're pretty good company, and haven't I proved I'm a decent guy to hang out with? Come on, you'll have to say yes to that tea party now."
Furina stared at him for a moment longer, then sighed and lifted her head high. He felt an odd flash of relief - this was the lively disposition he'd come to expect.
"Very well," She said in an unnecessarily grandiose voice. "I'll attend. Count yourself fortunate that I have the time."
"Oh, what a lucky Duke I am," He played along, though he wasn't nearly as good an actor as she was. He could play the part of an intimidating villain in the shadows - his encounter with Lyney proved that - but this sort of jovial make-believe was a little beyond him. "Is that a promise, then?"
She sighed in a theatrical long-suffering fashion. "Very well. We shall shake on it."
"Sure thing, madame." He stood up, then paused. And he wasn't sure what possessed him to do so, but the next thing out of his mouth was— "Actually, why not try something different - how about a hug?"
"A..." Furina gaped at him, as if she'd never heard the word before. "Huh?"
"Humans say 'goodbye' like this, sometimes," He said with a shrug that disguised how surprised even he was by his own audacity. "Or 'hello', or 'thank you'..."
Or 'I'm sorry you've been so alone', he added silently. He'd encountered so many tragedies in the Fortress of Meropide that he thought he was immune, but it was fitting that Lady Furina, Fontaine's most revered performer, would be the first player to move him in such a long time. Perhaps this was why he'd made the suggestion on the first place. Furina may have been human, but she was still five hundred years old; what she'd gone though was unimaginable.
And, though he wasn't sure why, he hoped he might be able to serve some solace. He supposed he felt he owed it to the actress whose endless work was the reason he was still alive today. Was this what they called the bond between an Archon and their people? He'd thought that was for only the most devoted and religious of followers, but clearly he'd been wrong.
Ah, but no - Furina did not want to be Archon any more. So, Wriothesley crushed the thought. This was simply comfort stemming from sympathy for a friend.
"...a-alright," Furina said finally, and looked just as surprised by her own words as Wriothesley felt. "Go on, then. How do you do it?"
"Just relax," He instructed her, and very cautiously took a step forward. This felt almost blasphemous. Furina had always been untouchable, in every sense of the word, after all. "Alright, here I go."
It wasn't like ge was experienced with this, either, but that was nothing to how foreign Furina seemed to find the whole ordeal. He managed to gather her in his arms with reasonable ease - albeit a little clumsily - but she seemed to find it nigh-impossible even to move.
"...how's that?" He asked after a moment, feeling almost unbearably awkward. This really wasn't like him at all.
Furina's voice came muffled through his jacket. "Is this how it usually goes?"
"Well... not quite." Normally the other party reciprocates, he added silently, but didn't say it aloud for fear of causing offence.
But Furina seemed to have figured it out herself. After a moment, moving so slowly he barely felt it happening until it did, she reached up and made her own attempt at returning the embrace.
"...so what is this?" She asked after a moment. "'Goodbye', 'hello', or 'thank you'?"
He was silent. Then he said gruffly, "Something else. It can mean a lot of things. Sometimes it doesn't even have to mean anything at all."
"Oh." Furina was silent for a moment longer. That long bit that stuck out of her hair was beginning to tickle his nose.
Finally, she shifted, and they both let go. Wriothesley cleared his throat, and put on a cordial grin once more.
"...well, it's certainly been an enlightening evening He said, and his smile wasn't insincere. "It was good to talk to you - truly. Feel free to break in again to see me some time."
"Hardly a good look for me to start breaking laws," She sniffed, but nodded, taking a further step back. "...thank you, Duke."
"The pleasure is mine, Furina." He play-bowed again, and this time she giggled a little. "You might as well drop the 'Duke', too. Just Wriothesley is fine."
They joked between themselves for some hours after that, and neither were sure how long it'd be until morning by the time he decided it prudent to escort her back to the surface. Luckily, no one was around to see them. Wriothesley was sure they made an odd pair - the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, and the former Hydro Archon of Fontaine, bantering like a pair of school children.
It was oddly refreshing, though. Both were used to reverence in their respective dominions, but behaved as mundanely as any person off the street would now - ah, the humanity!