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It was so… empty.
That was the first thought Furina had when she entered the new house provided to her by Monsieur Neuvillette. Her gut instinct had been to reject the offer, but the clouds outside the Palais Mermonia had already been so stormy, there really might have been a second flood if she had refused him.
She winced at her own joke. No, nothing will ever be as bad as that day, when all of Fontaine learned what she really was: a fraud, an imposter, a wicked thing who deceived an entire nation into worshiping her as its Archon. She did it to save her fellow humans, but in the end, a lie was a lie, no matter how well intentioned. And in the end she was human, no matter how well she acted to the contrary. It was only natural that someday her lie would come to light on the stage of the Opera Epiclese. The thought of being found out used to terrify her, but now that it happened all she felt was empty – like a hollowed out doll, lacking substance, yet looking the same.
An act 500 years in the making finally had its curtain call, and what a tragic end it had been. 500 years filled with indescribable loneliness and unbearable anguish, brought to an end by an outsider and her own people. 500 years, 500 years of waiting for her mirror-self’s prophesied trial. Furina never imagined it would be her facing judgment
Sometimes she hated her mirror-self, when the loneliness got especially hard or when another bout of research from the institute came up with no leads on how to stop the disaster. She had been so young, unknowing of the world aside from the face in the mirror and the prophecy ringing in her head. How could she have known what it would mean to lie to everyone for as long as she did? How could she have anticipated the pain of watching her people age and die while she remained the same? Years and decades started to lose their meaning to her, she could recall bits and pieces from the very start, but things started to… blur together, after a while. Whole decades could be in between what she could recall and she would never know.
She remembered what her mirror-self said that day – she was free, the prophecy had come to pass, yet Fontaine and her people still stood. Her mirror-self had kept her side of the promise, and if that’s true, then that meant Furina was mortal again, too. Time would pass like a river, only now she’d be carried along the current like everyone else.
What was she supposed to do now? Would the years pass by without notice like before, or would she be able to enjoy every moment, like any other human? The answer eluded her, but there was one thing she was certain of, standing in this empty house.
It was over.
When she cried that night, it was from relief.
—-
She slept a lot after that. Two weeks went by with her spending more time in a doze than awake. Some part of her, the part still stuck in her Focalors persona, threw a fit about this. A god was to get up bright and early to greet the day and prepare her outfit. Gods dress to impress, after all. But that little part grew quiet after the first day – when the sun got high enough to shine through her window and no one came to check on her.
That was another thing to get accustomed to – the chores. The servants in the Palais Mermonia were for the hydro Archon, not Furina, so clothes were left to the side of the room to pile up as days went by. The dishes – from when she could bring herself to eat – were starting to rival the abandoned tower on the borders of Fontaine. Looking at either of them brought a deep sense of exhaustion. Logically, someone needed to do them, to try and keep things in some semblance of order, but Furina wasn’t someone. She wasn’t anyone , really. From her very first day on Teyvat, she had been playing the part of someone else. She had tried being genuine at first, but her announcement ceremony had quickly proved how ineffective that would be. People didn’t look to gods for understanding or empathy, not when they could get that from any other human. Gods were above it all, powerful enough to rise up from the troubles of the world and watch them all from on high. Haughtiness and drama, loud voices and emphatic speeches, that was what people expected of Focalors the god, and Furina the human was nothing if not an actress.
How would the people of Fontaine react if they saw the state of her now? Sitting around in a bed she had never bothered to tidy up and surrounded by a mess of her own making? Appearances meant so much, back when she was Focalors. All of her clothes had to be made from the finest material, her accessories from only the most famous of jewelers. Even her gloves were embroidered by masters of their craft.
A god was vain, perfectly groomed at all times, they didn’t get a bad case of bedhead because they refused to brush their hair.
Were her role an absolute mess, she would certainly look the part. But there was no stage anymore, no overhead lights or peering eyes. Just her, in her room, curled up in a ball as she fought for the energy to do something. Essential tasks like going outside and getting groceries felt impossible, because to get food she would have to go outside, and to go outside meant subjecting herself to the staring, the whispers, the inevitable anger of the people she deceived.
They said all the world’s a stage, so when did Furina get stage fright?
She closed her eyes again with a tiny, shaky sigh, another tear streaking down to stain an already damp pillow.
—-
The food problem ended up solving itself, or rather, someone else solved it for her.
Small packages started appearing at her door in the morning, afternoon and night. Nothing in them was suspect, just snacks and drinks, along with a packaged meal. She could connect the dots, catching the tail end of a melusine beating a hasty retreat when she opened the door one time, but just in case it wasn’t clear, the notes at the bottom of the boxes made it abundantly so. They didn’t say much, just little reminders to eat and stay hydrated, always signed off with Monsieur Neuvillette or Lady Clorinde’s elegant scrawl. As time went on and Furina’s self-imposed isolation continued, the notes started to get longer, asking her how her day was or if she had found any nice ways to pass the time. But everyone had a breaking point, and Monsieur Neivillette must have reached his, because in the box containing her breakfast, the note at the bottom read as such:
Miss Furina,
It has been brought to my attention that you have not left your abode in quite some time. Your circumstances are extraordinary, so I hesitate to offer advice, as I am rather at a loss myself. But, should you ever wish it, the doors to my office will always be open to you, should you simply want company.
Company, such a strange word to her. She could be in an opera full of people and still feel so distant from them, the weight of her secret dragging her away from any chance of connection. It was simply too risky. To become close meant to be seen, and to be seen meant to be judged. Furina had been Focalors, a god above reproach, and as such no one could be allowed to come too close, lest they see the holes in her act.
Monsieur Neuvillette, Furina couldn’t say the thought of seeing again didn’t terrify her. Aside from the Melusines, he was the one person who had witnessed all 500 years of her performance as Focalors. What must have been going through his head? He had his original authority as a dragon sovereign now, surely Furina had lost her usefulness to him? She couldn’t even say it was for work reasons. She hadn’t been too involved in the proceedings and operations of Fontaine – a deliberate move on her part. To get too involved would leave the chance to make mistakes, and gods did not make mistakes. To his credit, Monsieur Neuvillette took to his role admirably, presiding over every trial without fail. In Fontaine, the trials were akin to a show, presenting the case of either side and determining the most likely scenario, but no one seemed to realize there was always an extra actor – the Iudex himself.
Through his many iterations of his role, Furina attained a sense of his character – a stern man, with a no-nonsense policy to breaking the laws of this region, but also a man with an unending sense of kindness. His sentences were never unbefitting of the crime, and Furina did not miss how the clouds would stir outside of the more emotionally charged cases. But no matter how kind he was, there was no arguing that Furina had done wrong. So why was he seeking her company?
It could be another trap , the more anxious side of her whispered in her ear. He had no issue using tricks to get you to stand trial before. What if this is much the same?
But she hadn’t broken any laws, had she? Fontaine had several odd and seemingly innocuous laws, but surely staying inside for half the month wasn’t illegal? Would the Iudex make it illegal if she turned him down?
Monsieur Neuvillette evidently anticipated her trepidation, for the next note read:
Miss Furina,
My apologies if my previous invitation proved to be too much. After performing for so long, it is understandable that you seek your rest. I simply implore you to take care of yourself. Reach out when you’re ready and no sooner, but know that there are people waiting to receive you.
Furina stared at that note for a long while after she first read it. Monsieur Neuvillette might avoid the truth in some cases, like their meeting with The Knave, but in all of her years she had never heard him speak an outright lie. Would it really be okay…?
She didn’t read the letter in the next box. The thought of what it might contain was simply too much for her.
She agonized over the decision for days after that, laying in bed and arguing with herself until she was too tired to stay awake. The potential consequences for Monsieur Neuvillette’s invitation were immense: she could be turned away from the Palais Mermonia outright, be accosted by angry Fontanians, and a whole range of other things that were possible if not plausible. But on the other hand, who else would know the full extent of what she’d been through? The traveler? Furina still felt too hurt from their trick to entertain reaching out just yet, but Monsieur Neuvillette… Lady Clorinde… She had fond memories of them both during her time as Focalors. Between daily tea times and talking about the latest fashion trends, they had both brought their form of warmth to her cold, lonely existence.
But does she have any reason to visit them now that she’s not their Archon? Was she capable of interacting with them outside of her role? She was too scared to find the answer, it could be what well and truly broke her.
—-
The traveler was at Furina’s door, she could hear the little fairy all the way from her room.
“Are you sure this is the right place, Lumine? We’ve already knocked three times and no one’s come to the door!” The little fairy raises her voice, grating on Furina’s ears. “Hellooooo? Anyone home?”
How long must Furina wait before they got the hint? It wasn’t the most polite of dismissals, true, but surely they could pick up the fact she didn’t want to see them?
They stayed outside her door for an hour. Furina only knew this because Paimon, whose name she learned against her will, would complain every five minutes about how she was bored. The traveler would quietly shush her, knocking in the door every ten minutes and waiting patiently, even when there was no reply.
Furina had to commend her persistence, if nothing else. She grabbed her hairbrush with a sigh and tamed her appearance into something remotely presentable.
When she opened the door, the two were off to the side, the traveler leaning against the wall of Furina’s house and Paimon floating beside her. The traveler pushed herself off the wall, a smile coming onto her face.
“Finally!” Paimon cried.
The traveler ignored her companion and instead said to Furina, “we were starting to get worried.”
“Why? Furina asked, “you have no business with me anymore, right? I’m not Focalors anymore, what could you possibly need from me?”
The look on the traveler’s face turned pained. Furina despised it, it made her feel like she was something to be pitied. The traveler didn’t catch her irritation and said, “Neuvillette mentioned that you haven’t been outside of your house since everything happened.”
“You’ll have to elaborate on ‘everything’,” Furina countered. “Could you possibly be referring to when you exposed me to all of Fontaine and flooded the country while fighting an abyssal narwhal?” She might have still been a little bitter about that. Take her to court over it.
Both the traveler and Paimon look appropriately sheepish. “Yeah…” Paimon said, rubbing the back of her haid, “we wanted to say sorry about that. We didn’t know it would, you know, set off the prophecy.”
Furina sighed. “Don’t apologize. I imagine the real Focalors had planned all of it ahead of time,” and conveniently left her in the dark so she could play her role to the best of her ability. She understood why, but that didn’t mean that she liked it. Furina crossed her arms to hide how one of them started to fidget. All this small talk, and yet they still haven’t said the reason for their visit.
The traveler, at least, can read a room. “Neuvillette has been too busy to come by himself, but he mentioned how he was worried about you. We wanted to see how you were doing.”
How she was doing? If she and Paimon took two steps to the left they would see just how well she was doing, but as if Furina would let them. “Well, as you can see, I am doing fine! Better than fine!” The looks on both of their faces did not speak of confidence in her words. “I-in fact, I was about to go to Cafe Lutece!”
Oh, what was she getting herself into, now? She hadn’t set foot outside her house for the better part of a month, she wasn’t ready! But oh, the pity on the traveler’s face had been too much to bear. And, well, this wasn’t exactly the first time her big mouth got her into trouble. In fact, one such instance had been when she accused those Fatui twins of murder after their magic show went wrong. Yet in doubt, one must follow through on what they’ve said. It would be fine, she would just go inside, get dressed, pop by the cafe, grab some macaroons, and go home before any crowds formed.
So why was the traveler tagging along?
Furina’s plans for a quick in-and-out stop were ruined the second the traveler fell into step with her. Yes, she could have let them into her house, but if she had done that, they would have seen what a mess things were, and Furina refused to allow that. Paimon, the enabler, grabbed them a table at Cafe Lutece while the traveler came up to the counter with Furina to place their orders.
The barista’s back was initially turned when they approached. “Just one moment, dear customer.” they fiddle with a few things before turning around, their eyes closed as they dusted off their apron. “Thank you for your patience! How may I– Lady Furina?!”
Every eye in the vicinity shot toward them. Furina sighed through her nose, stamping down the bubbling anxiety as she slipped on the mask she’d grown too used to over the years. Ah, but the mask doesn’t fit anymore now, does it? Now that everyone knows she’s not really an Archon, how well will this fit? But ill fitting armor is still preferable to going into battle with no armor at all. “Hello, madame, I was hoping to have some of your wonderful macarons!” She pulled out her wallet and put what she hoped to be an appropriate amount of mora on the counter. Judging by the face of the barista, the amount may have been a bit of an overshoot. “Oh, and allow me to pay for my company, as well! We’ll be sitting over there.” She pointed to the general direction of where Paimon was sitting.
The atmosphere when the traveler and Furina returned was… tense. Some part of Furina settled under the weight, the persistent fears she had entertained within the confines of her house validated. She put her cheek in hand and crossed her legs, leaning her elbow on the table, acting just like she had before everything came to light. “Now, what would you like to talk about? I’m afraid I’m not caught up on any recent plays or trials, are there any you might recommend?”
The traveler and Paimon share a look. “Furina… you don’t have to put up the act anymore,” the traveler said delicately, like she was afraid Furina might lose her temper at the suggestion.
“I don’t know what you mean!” Furina exclaimed, leaning back in her seat. Despite the uncomfortable conversation, it was nice to be outside for the first time in weeks. The sun hiding behind a few idling clouds, the wind rustling her hair, the scent of coffee and baked goods in the air, she was surprised to find that she had missed all of it.
The traveler decided to let it drop, choosing the change the subject. “I was talking to Clorinde the other day,”
“Oh?” Furina caught herself before she sounded too interested, “and how is Fontaine’s resident champion duelist? I’m sure she’s quite popular now after she had the gall to challenge a god.”
“She is,” the traveler confirmed, “but she also misses you. Neuvillette, too. That’s actually why Paimon and I stopped by.”
“And they said this?” Furina pressed, only to confuse herself. Why was she asking this? The answer would only hurt, and besides, if they missed her, they missed Focalors , not Furina .
The traveler hummed. “They didn’t, but some things don’t need to be said.” Her eyes narrowed, peering into Furina like she might be able to see something. Furina bristled at the look. “Do you not want to visit them?”
Furina sighed, sinking down in her seat a little. She broke eye contact with the traveler, looking off to the side as she mumbled, “what would be the use? I have no reason to see them, now that I’m not Focalors anymore.”
The traveler reached forward, wrapping Furina’s hand in her own. Furina almost flinched away before she saw the expression on the traveler’s face. Open, caring, concerned. It was embarrassing how fast she had to fight back tears from a look alone.
“Missing somebody is enough of a reason to visit.” The traveler told her. “Nobody’s going to blame you for taking your time to recover, but when you’re ready, I know they’d be happy to see you.”
The barista came at that exact moment, saving Furina from trying to speak past the lump in her throat. They dig into their snacks, with Paimon exclaiming her reviews of each dish between bites. It was cute in an odd sort of way. The air between the traveler and her companion was so light, free of any burdensome secrets or discomfort.
Could Furina have that, too?
—-
She woke up early the next day, just in time to catch the melusine placing her breakfast delivery in front of her door. She apologized to the poor thing for scaring her witless and asked her to pass along a note to Monsieur Neuvillette and Lady Clorinde. The melusine’s antennae perked up adorably as she nodded with enthusiasm.
Furina watched her go, wondering what their reply might be.
—-
The reply came with her lunch. It included a date and a time, along with a small afternote.
We look forward to your attendance.
—--
Furina fiddled with her hair one last time before declaring it fine, stepping back in the mirror to examine her outfit. It was different from her usual look of dark blues and whites – a pastel lavender combined with a light cream yellow. She dons her hat as the final accessory and steps out into the world.
Her trek to the Palais Mermonia wasn’t far, but she quickly attracted the attention of everyone she walked past. She tried to pay them no mind, humming a tune to herself to try and soothe her nerves. It didn’t work entirely, but it soothed her, and that was enough.
The melusine guards opened the door for her once she reached her destination. Her anxiety began to stir the closer she got to Monseuir Neuvilette’s office. Was this really okay? She wasn’t taking them away from something important, was she?
“Missing someone is reason enough to visit them.”
Furina closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Monsieur Neuvillette’s office was no different from how it was the last time she was here, aside from the table set up in the middle of the office, stacked tall with all manner of sweets and a teapot atop one of those new portable stove devices from the research institute. She was too far to see the exact details on the teacups, but she recognized it from the colors alone – it was her favorite set, one with small seahorses, crabs and octopi along the rims. The sun came in bright through the window, illuminating the table and the three seats set equal distance from each other.
Lady Clorinde and Monsieur Neuivillette paused their conversation when they heard the door open. When they turned to face her, Furina could see how their expressions shifted. Clorinde had always been somewhat easy to read behind closed doors, a simple softening of the eyes and an upturn of the mouth, but Neuvillette…
He was smiling. A wide one that forced his mouth to crinkle at the edges.
Furina stomped on the urge to turn and run, forcing herself to step in and close the doors behind her. “... Hello,” She said, her voice almost too small to reach them.
Lady Clorinde put her hand on her chest and bowed. “Lady Furina, thank you for accepting our invitation.”
“Yes,” Neuvillette joined in, “ I must agree with Lady Clorinde, it was a welcome surprise to receive your request for tea.”
Furina took a step closer, unable to resist the urge to fiddle with her fingers. “... I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“Don’t apologize,“ Neuvillette told her, “instead, let us simply enjoy each other’s company– ah, it seems it’s my turn to apologize, I did not mean for you to cry.”
Furina reached up and wiped away her tears with something that might be a mix between a laugh and a sob. “I think these are happy tears,” she said, taking the offered handkerchief from Lady Clorinde.
“Your outfit looks nice, those colors look good on you.” Lady Clorinde informed her. It was her own way of comfort. Furina had spent enough time with her to know that.
Furina took the seat Monsieur Neuvillette pulled out for her, sniffling and wiping her eyes still. “Thank you. I thought a wardrobe change was long overdue.” She couldn’t even look at her old outfit without the dread of 500 years clinging to it.
Lady Clorinde pounced on the chance, “perhaps we can go shopping together. I’m sure Lady Navia would love to come along.”
“I’d like that.” Furina turned her focus to Monsieur Neuvillette, who sat stiff as a board off to the side. It would be bad etiquette to only speak to lady Clorinde, and she’ll be honest, to herself if no one else: she missed him a lot. “Monsieur Neuvillette, are there any shows in particular you may like to see? Perhaps we can all go together – but I would like one thing, if we do.”
“Anything, Lady Furina,” Monsieur Neuvillette said. The intensity in his stare would have frightened Furina a few days ago, but now she saw it for what it was – eagerness. She could say anything in this moment and Monsieur Neuvilette would do everything in his power as the Iudex of Fontaine to fulfill it. Good thing her request wasn’t much.
“Could our seats be together in the crowd? I find myself getting tired of balcony seating.” In more ways than one. The only reason she had those balcony seats was because she was their Archon. She was just Furina now, and to figure out what that meant she needed to live like a human.
Monsieur Neuvillette’s eyes went soft. “Of course, Lady Furina.” He moved to turn on the portable stove, “now, our tea selection today is recommended by the Duke of Meropide: a chocolate-truffle blend that pairs well with our snacks. And to answer your question, Lady Furina, there was a recent performance that I found most interesting.”
They ate, they chatted, and all the while, Furina never felt like she was unwelcomed. They didn’t want Focalors the Archon, they wanted Furina, the human. When it came time for them to part ways, Furina took a chance and brought them both into a hug. She wasn’t terribly tall, so the scene must have looked comical to outsiders, but there was no one to see how they wrapped their arms around her in return.
Furina left the Palais mermonia, a skip in her step and a mental note to clean up her house. She would be having company in the future.