Work Text:
When Furina rouses, the remnants of a dream tinging her subconsciousness, she is blanketed by a strange warmth that is both heavy and pleasant. She blinks blearily, eyes slowly adjusting to the light, and when she attempts to raise a hand to rub at them, she finds that she is completely immobile. In a panic, she almost dislodges the weight atop her, only to realize that the Traveller is sprawled above her and responsible for the tight grip around her fingers.
Distantly, she recalls the other girl reaching towards her before everything went dark. Whatever happened afterwards had been a blur, aside from a far-flung memory of dancing on a stage, golden eyes beholding her every move. It had been an intimate affair, her heart laid bare, yet her true self had not been met with scorn nor disappointment. She had been looked upon with such gentleness that she nearly wept anew, were it not for the spotlight that bore intensely on her brow.
“Lumine,” she murmurs, the name a novelty on her tongue. A secret for a secret, the Traveller had said back in the trap. Her real name, in exchange for Furina’s burden.
The former Archon delicately smooths her free hand over Lumine’s hair, bright like spun sunshine. Even through her silk glove, she can tell that the strands are fine to the touch. At the contact, the other girl sighs and curls closer; it is only then that Furina notices the tearstained cheeks that mirror her own. Something in her softens, compelling her to readjust Lumine to be more comfortable, the Traveller’s chin tucked onto her shoulder. The arm around her tightens in response, followed by a small sound of contentment.
She knows that there should be more urgency in her movements, that she lacks the time to indulge in such little things. Still, with the prophecy fulfilled, there is the tiny, selfish hope that even as Fontaine dissolved, she was no longer the sole witness on her throne. Heaving a shuddering breath, she almost misses Lumine stirring, a familiar pair of golden eyes alighting on hers.
“Furina?” she calls, addled with drowsiness. She makes to withdraw her hand, but the former Archon threads their fingers together.
“Stay, please,” Furina requests quietly, exhausted and bereft of any inhibition. She had already been exposed before the entirety of her country; there was little left to lose.
Her heart seizes when Lumine frees her hand regardless, but it quickly settles when the same hand finds its way onto her reddened cheek, regarding her with the same tender expression as before. With a muffled sob, she surges forward and buries her face into the crook of Lumine’s neck, her hat knocked off its perch.
“It’s okay,” the Traveller soothes, her own voice quivering. “I’m here. I’ve got you, I promise.”
Furina had thought she had no tears left but they rise again, beading her eyelashes like delicate jewels. Outside, the sound of rushing water is akin to thunder, raging against the sky. The structure of the Opera Epiclese groans and heaves, the noises its own kind of swan song. For her part, Lumine continues to hold her, steadfast and warm. It is not until they hear faint shouting that they carefully disentangle themselves, though Furina still keeps their fingers entwined and refuses to let the other girl stray too far.
The carpets are completely waterlogged, each squelching step prompting a fresh puddle to surface. Lumine leads the way in case there are any remnants of primordial seawater, but it is Furina who pulls her along once they pass the threshold of the main entrance. There, they can see Fontanians reunite with their loved ones, their cries of joy a welcome cacophony. Some descend from the tops of trees and others rise from beneath stone rubble, all worse for wear but most definitely whole.
“The prophecy… was wrong?” she whispers in disbelief. The thought had never once crossed her mind, but the presence of the Traveller lends it some credibility. For the first time, she dares to hope, to exhale after nearly five centuries of bated breath.
“You did it,” Lumine says, gentle, and when Furina turns, she is met with genuine affection that she never thought could be afforded to her. Her eyes search the other girl’s gaze with the expectation that she will soon wake, once again alone in her ostentatious apartment at the Palais Mermonia. The affirming squeeze on her palm begs to differ, however, and Lumine steps closer, eyes sheepishly lowered to their conjoined hands.
The former Archon inhales sharply in response, her senses suddenly flooded with the scent of flowers and the sea. With an incredulous huff of laughter, she leans up to touch their foreheads together, her tears this time those of gratitude and relief.