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There’s a soft knocking on the door. One short knock, one longer, two more sharp knocks, then silence. Lyney pauses with pen in hand, listening for the sound of retreating footsteps, but the visitor doesn’t leave.
With a sigh, Lyney casts a glance around his room. He quickly gathers the drafts on his desk into a pile, tosses a couple of crumpled paper balls into the basket and drags the coverlet over his show clothes, discarded haphazardly on top of the bed.
When another knock resounds, in the same sequence, he calls out, “Come in!” and drops back onto his chair, attempting a casual pose.
The door opens to reveal his little sister. Lynette’s cheeks are rosy from the cold outside, her hair slightly damp. She has her travel coat slung over her arm.
“Lynette, welcome back.”
“Work went smoothly. I’m beat - borrowing your bed.”
“Wait, that’s…”
Lynette doesn’t wait for a reply. She walks over and sits on the edge of the mattress, only to pause with a thoughtful expression, slowly stand up, and pull out some rolled-up stockings from under the blanket.
“Really? Gross.”
“I only had a few seconds.”
“Since you changed? I doubt it. Aren’t you a magician, anyway?” Lynette wrinkles her nose. “What about your disappearing tricks?”
Lyney tries one of his charming smiles, but Lynette only raises her eyebrow, her tail swishing low in irritation. Lyney can only hang his head.
“...I panicked. You got me.”
“Can you clean up properly so we can talk?”
Her tone doesn’t leave room for argument.
She stands in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips, as Lyney gathers the laundry and deposits it in the hamper. Once his bed is made, too, Lynette claps her hands and nods in approval.
“Okay, much better.”
“For you, I’d clean the whole House, top to bottom.”
“Start with your room, next time.”
They sit next to each other, Lyney absently twirling a card in his fingers. He can feel Lynette’s gaze on him.
“Do you know why I came here straight after returning home?”
“Because you missed me so badly, you couldn’t bear another second apart?”
Lynette shoots him a look. Lyney shrugs with an apologetic smile.
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s an instinct.”
“I rushed here because the kids stopped me at the door, asking if you were sick. They said you didn’t come down for dinner, or answer when they came to call on you. Some were sniffling.”
Just then, hushed whispers and the sound of pushing and showing come from behind the door, followed by small feet running down the stairs.
“I… I’m going to have to apologize.”
“Yes, you should.” Lynette sounds distracted. “We should also work on their sneaking skills. But first, mind telling me what is wrong?”
Lyney looks away, staring at the window. The rain outside has picked up. The raindrops running down the glass remind him of Freminet’s favorite legend.
“It’s these reports,” he finally admits. “To be honest, I don’t know what to write. I did nothing but mess up lately.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Three days ago, I put the whole operation at risk…”
Lyney’s hands curl into fists at his sides. Lynette puts her hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently.
“You wanted to make sure that guy couldn’t go back to his superiors with intel on the House. We dealt with his friends, so it was all good in the end.”
“Two days ago, I hastily ordered a retreat.” Lyney speaks slowly, trying to keep his voice level. “And today you had to finish the job by yourself…”
“Thanks to you, Freminet’s life wasn’t in danger. I was able to wrap it up quickly because of the groundwork you did, too.”
“And yesterday, I was 3 seconds late for the swap and took the wrong props on stage.”
“The swap was a mistake, alright, but I just had to twirl your hat a bit longer.”
She picks up the hat in question from on top of a bookshelf next to the bed and demonstrates. The hat dances beautifully in her nimble hands, but when she tosses it up, it knocks against the low-hanging lampshade. The siblings stare at the lamp swimming back and forth above, then burst into laughter.
“Time and place, Lynette, time and place!”
“See, no one is infallible.”
Lyney gives her a playful shove. Lynette shoves back.
“Was that a pun?”
“Maybe.” Lynette keeps a straight face, her posture dignified, as if she wasn’t just trying to push Lyney off the bed. “About the props, though, your improv ended up being a big hit.”
“Really? I mean, well, of course.”
“That lady had tears in her eyes when you made a paper flower appear in her hair. I think she was from Inazuma.”
“How did you spot that?”
“Felines have good eyesight. Don’t worry, the only ones who noticed a mistake were us.”
“I guess yesterday wasn’t that bad, all things considered. I still have it in me.”
Truth is, he already knows as much. The thunderous applause, the crowd full of enthralled faces and sparkling eyes; the twins’ dressing room overflowing with gifts and flower bouquets; the princess of Spina di Rosula, all praises as she whisked him and Lynette away to the afterparty. Surrounded by smiles and laughter, he could make small talk, brag and show off small card tricks, and forget, for a while, about the looming shadow of failure and the consequences he just narrowly avoided.
If only it could last.
“And today? It wasn’t just these reports, was it?”
Lyney bites his lip. His throat is tight and dry; it’s hard to swallow. He finds himself glancing at the door, again; what if some of the kids were still listening?
“Actually, forget it. You don’t have to tell me.”
“This morning, I took the kids to the cemetery.”
Among their adoptive siblings and allies from the House of Heart, there were some who didn’t come back from their missions investigating the Prophecy. With the first anniversary coming near, the children wanted to pay their respects, so they came pulling at the sleeves of their oldest brother to take them along.
“I couldn’t say anything. They must’ve been waiting for some reassurance… I’m usually good at this.”
Without a word, Lynette wraps him up in a hug. Their knees bump into each other. Her tail hooks around his leg, one of her ears squishing against the side of his head.
Surrounded by warmth and the scent most familiar in the world, Lyney struggles to hold back tears. He returns the hug; if he clings too hard, Lynette doesn’t point it out. When she speaks up again, she’s all business.
“Let’s do it this way. First, I’m going to write your reports for you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
Lyney breaks away first. He’s met by a steadfast gaze and a rare, gentle smile.
“You’re not asking, I’m offering. It’s okay, I was there, too, and I can fake your handwriting.”
“Let me help, at least!”
“You should rely on your assistant more. If you want to help me, take a break.”
Without a further ado, she springs up, fishes a paper-ball Lyney overlooked from under the bed and two more from the dustbin. She flattens them against the desk, then compares two under the light, furrowing her brows.
“This really isn’t you, brother. You usually don’t repeat yourself so often. See? You used ‘carry out’ three times in a row here.”
“Have you no heart? It’s a report, not a performance script. How am I supposed to rest while you’re critiquing my vocalubary?”
“Then, why don’t you get away for the night? You can go see him.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea who you’re talking about, dear sister. Now, give me these.”
He reaches for the crumpled reports, but Lynette snatches them away, holding them above her head.
“Should I spell it out to you? The Duke of Meropide, Wriothesley, the man you…”
“Don’t…”
Lyney shoots her a look, but Lynette is undaunted. She sidesteps his attempts to take the unfinished reports with inborn grace.
“...The man you’ve been seeing for months. The one that got you all up in the clouds, smiling to yourself when you think no one is looking.”
“ Lynette! ”
He reaches for her wrist, but only grabs air. Losing balance, he nearly avoids a crash with the bookshelf. Lynette jumps backwards, landing soundlessly, like only a feline could.
“Sometimes, you grumble, too - how that old prick thinks he’s all that. Curious thing, though, you still seem happy.”
For once, Lyney finds himself wishing Lynette smiled more. Anyone else would be wearing a smirk, or even a grin, but Lynette’s expression remains neutral, if a little curious. Matter-of-fact, she could be talking about the weather, rather than teasing about his love life. It makes it that much worse. Lyney feels his face grow hot.
“It’s not like that!”
“Really?” Lynette cocks her head. “That’s how it looks. You should go. He’s good for you.”
“Good for raising my blood pressure, maybe.”
“You always look lighter when you come back from seeing him.”
There’s a dull pang in his chest. He swallows the name on his lips, forcing down the impulse to just listen and go, as soon as possible, consequences be damned.
“I can’t. Father is at home today.”
“So what? Give her your regards on your way out.”
“If she asks…”
Lynette’s gaze turns sharp. The hair on her tail puffs up.
“You disappoint me, Lyney.”
“Well, thanks a lot -”
“Do you really think Father doesn’t know? How could she not find out? If she hasn’t said anything, it means it’s okay. You’re allowed.”
“Then how come she hasn’t asked me for any intel?”
“Is it so strange that Father doesn’t want to use your relationship? She respects your feelings. You should give her the same courtesy.”
Nodding slowly, Lyney forces a smile. In the face of Lynette’s unwavering faith, he has no words to argue.
“You must be right. But… I don’t know. Maybe I should stay with you guys, after all. I’ll go downstairs so I don’t bother you.”
“You’re still worrying about something.”
Once again, it’s a statement, not a question. She holds his gaze, unwilling to let it go. With his route of escape cut off, he can only concede.
“What if he gets fed up with me?”
“Is the Duke of Meropide such a person? I see we need to assasinate him.” Lynette puts the papers away, readjusts her bow and dusts her skirt. Her icy tone seems to lower the temperature in the room. “I shall speak to Father about forming a unit.”
“Wait, no!”
Lyney catches her wirst. Instead of trying to shake him off, Lynette digs her heels in and pulls. Lyney stumbles half a step before pushing back with all his weight.
“Can you please not plot to kill my… My… Anyway, can you not plan to kill him at the drop of a hat?”
“If he made you doubt yourself, he will be your ex by tomorrow morning.”
“No, listen! He didn’t say anything of the sort. It’s all me.”
Images pop up in his head, one after the other. The Duke’s eyes, twinkling with amusement as Lyney kept pace with him in their latest argument; Wriothesley clapping from the first row at their show a week ago. They haven’t seen each other since. Whenever Lyney glanced towards Opera Epiclese or walked its glorious halls, he would feel a tug, like a string hooked onto his ribcage - not towards the stage, but the lift that could take him down to the Fortress - and each time, he would turn away, a wistful sigh at his lips. How could he give in to the longing when he couldn’t think of a single way to impress his most demanding audience?
A glance at the wall calendar confirms Wriothesley’s birthday is coming back around soon. A humorless, tired face is not what he wants to show at a time like this.
“I just… I don’t think I can act as usual.”
“Oh?”
Lynette relaxes, giving up the tug-o-war. She keeps a hold of Lyney’s hand, however, and gives it a comforting squeeze.
“Then, it’s going to be okay. He fell in love with you after you tried to attack him for giving me scones and tea. He won’t mind.”
Lyney crumples to the floor, covering his face. The memory of the confrontation in the Duke’s office still makes his cheeks burn. Yet, together with the heat comes laughter, bubbling up in his chest.
“I did that, didn’t I…”
Through his fingers, he sees a cheerful spark in Lynette’s eye.
“And yet, here you are now. Aren’t you glad you went to see him again afterwards?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“That’s nonsense, dear brother. I simply kicked you out of the house because I couldn’t stand seeing you mope any longer. It was upsetting my appetite.”
“Still, it was a big help.”
“Glad to be of service.”
Lynette wastes no time getting to work. She lays out the drafts in front of her and pulls out a fresh sheet of paper from the desk. Listening to the scratch of her pen - his pen, actually - Lyney finds himself wondering how come Lynette can find anything in his room within seconds. He decides to attribute it to their special twin connection. Some things, it’s best not to think about too long.
Noticing his stillness, Lynette turns around in the chair to face him.
“If you'd still rather stay home, it's alright, you know. I'll keep you company. We can watch movies about magicians and pick apart the tricks.”
Despite himself, Lyney chuckles.
“You sure know how to have fun, dear sister of mine.”
“Of course.”
“Would you mind if… we do the movies tomorrow? That is, if Father won't say no…”
“Anytime you want,” Lynette agrees easily. “And I'm sure she won't stop you.”
“I guess I better get going, then.”
“You do that. If you don’t hurry, I’m going to be done before you go.”
“What are you going to do after?”
“Hmm… I think I’ll get Fremi to do some baking with me.”
“Sweets, at this hour?”
“Sush.” Lynette sticks out her tongue. “We’re Fatui, after all. “
“So, now we’re known for diet crimes?”
“We’re notorious for them.”
“You, for sure.”
Her tail, raised high, seems to indicate Lynette takes it as a compliment.
Lyney makes himself stand up and face the standing mirror. He’s dressed for comfort, not for a date, with his make up washed off. There are loose strands coming out of his braid.
Lynette glances over her shoulder.
“Just go like this, it’s fine.”
“You sure?” Lyney twists his head to the side, frowning. “I think I’ll redo my hair.”
“If you have to. Clothes are fine, though.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“You can take my coat, by the way. It’s good for blending in.”
Despite being Lynette’s go-to , the coat does not have a feminine cut. With a simple design, it doesn’t draw attention while partly concealing the figure. Lyney holds it up against his body, then slips his arms in and pulls the hood down over his hair.
The Great Magician Lyney disappears, leaving a nondescript figure with pale cheeks and dark circles around his eyes. It’s almost like a magic trick.
“Lynette, say good night to Fremi for me, will you? And don’t keep him up too long.”
“I will. Freminet was worried about you, too - you could both use a pick-me-up.”
“...I’m sorry. I’ll talk with him when I’m back.”
“You do that. We’ll share our sweets with you. That is, if there’s anything left.”
“There better be!”
“No promises.”
“Where’s your honor of a Fatuus?”
“Not making promises I can’t keep, isn’t that honorable?”
As they bid farewell for the night, Lyney can't shake the feeling that Lynette would make a far better successor for Father than he.
He doesn’t run into anyone on his way down. Some voices reach him in the hallway, the kids of the House playing or chatting before bed.
There’s a circle of light spreading from the living room. Arlecchino is reclined in a deep armchair in front of the hearth, bathed in the warm glow of the fire. Her eyes are closed, one of her hands curled around a steaming mug on the end table. It seems as if she fell asleep after a long day halfway through her drink.
Lyney holds his breath and slowly, on his tip-toes, makes his way across to the front door. His heart hammers in his chest, each beat loud enough to reach Father’s ears.
“Lyney, good evening.”
Father’s low voice carries easily through the hall, stopping Lyney mid-step. Arlecchino opens her eyes, raising her head with a leisurely grace of a tigress. As she shifts in the chair, the firelight casts a disquieting shadow on her face, a sharp contrast.
Hesitant to enter without permission, Lyney gives a deep bow from the doorway.
“Dear Father, good evening. My apologies, I didn’t want to disurb you.”
“How considerate of you. Worry not, I was merely resting my eyes. Paperwork can be a handful, wouldn’t you say?”
Under her sharp gaze, Lyney feels a sudden urge to confess everything about the unfinished reports and Lynette taking over the work. He bites his tongue; even if their Father has already figured it out, with Lynette volunteering to help, it’s not just his secret to tell.
“Yes… Indeed. Thank you for all you do, as always.”
Do not stand on ceremony; come closer.”
Beckoning at him, Arlecchino is wearing a placid smile. However, she doesn’t motion him to sit, so he remains standing.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
“Father, I would like to go out today.” I… might not return for the night.”
“I don't hear you asking for permission.”
Lyney’s breath catches in his throat. His mind turns blank; he can’t think of a single excuse. Arlecchino simply watches him, her fingertips joined together around her cup.
“I'm…”
“Be at ease.” Arlecchino graces him with a slight smile. “I simply observed a fact. I never said you need one. You're of age, after all.”
This time, words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them.
“Father, I haven’t performed up to standard in the recent tasks you’ve entrusted to me. If, by chance, this is inappropriate…”
“It’s true that you haven’t been yourself lately. I was going to order you to rest, had it continued. I’m relieved that I didn’t have to.”
“My apologies for concerning Father.”
“You are not a child anymore, so you ought to pay more attention to your own needs. Do keep that in mind.”
“I shall. Thank you for your guidance.”
“Good. I won’t keep you anymore. You’re dismissed.”
With another low bow, Lyney excuses himself and leaves in a hurry. He only exhales once he’s outside, his knees going weak as tension melts out of his body, into the rainy night.
The Aquabus is still running, and to Lyney’s relief, the Melusine on duty is not one to make personal chit-chat. She launches into her dispassionate explanation of the highlights of Erinnyes without remarking on his late journey. Lyney closes his eyes as he listens to the familiar explanation of the Fortress of Meropide and how, for some, going there is not so bad. Elphane’s monotone soothes his mind. It reminds him of Lynette.
He crosses the distance to the Opera in the blink of an eye. A few locals, hiding under coats or umbrellas, pass him by, but no one looks his way.
The torches adorning the passage of the lift to the Fortress burn bright despite the rain. The fire does little against the cold seeping into his body, however. Lyney shares his shoulders, imagining Wriothesley’s arms around his waist. In spite of his affinity for Cryo, the Duke never runs cold. Lyney’s own tendency for exactly the opposite amuses Wriothesley to no end. Lyney can almost hear that husky voice with a hint of laughter in his ear, Wriothesley’s breath tickling his skin.
“Shall we get some exercise, to get that blood running?”
Grateful that there was no guard posted on the surface who’d have followed him into the elevator, Lyney claps his hands over his mouth. His whole face is burning. The fire spreads to his ears, to his chest; his heart is beating faster with restlessness and longing. Suddenly, the lift’s descent feels painfully slow, and the thought that a lengthy boat ride avaits him afterwards makes him want to groan.
The door opening catches him without an excuse for his arrival. The two guards outside turn towards him, weapons in hand - and to Lyney’s surprise, both salute, letting him through.
“Mister Lyney. The barge is ready.”
Lyney’s skills as an operative fail him.
“I can just…?”
“Luckily, it’s not currently in use, so you can go right away.”
“And you’re letting me through?”
“Please watch your step. Safe travels.”
He passes through, picking up the pace in case the guards change their minds. He trips on the damp metal flooring and nearly falls off the barge into the water.
At the final station, he has no look to spare for the enormous window out into the sea. He turns his back onto the expanse of soft blue and green and steps into the rusty tunnel guarded by Grandmeks. None of them move as he walks by.
One more lift, another zig-zag of tunnels. The receptionist greets him with a sleepy nod. The men guarding the Office let him through without a word.
He takes a deep breath and crosses into the only place where he can leave “Lyney” behind.