Chapter Text
This meeting had been just as lifeless and unspirited as the last one, Lady Furina’s anxiety and stumbling while amusing at first, was dry and irritating now. She was no closer to finding a solution to Fontaine’s impending doom, and she insisted on playing dumb at every opportunity; if Arlecchino hadn’t needed the Gnosis, she was sure the Hydro Archon would already be dead.
False pleasantries slid back and forth across the table like ceramic saucers catching on glass, both of them diplomats, both knowing it was all an act. They sipped tea from Liyue, heated in contraptions from Fontaine, songs from Mondstadt filled the room, while incense from Inazuma burned in the corner. Arlecchino’s mind started to drift, her focus no longer on the woman in front of her, but on memories long gone.
Her childhood had been full of exposure to different cultures, after all, a King should be expected to engage with all of the world’s most powerful people, no matter where they are from. Days of pain on the training ground interspersed with gruelling lessons in the classroom, although Arlecchino had always loved the haikus from Inazuma.
Her mother had been an absolute slave driver behind a veneer of kindness and her only respite in this world of agony were the few tender moments she shared with Cl-...
Movement snapped her away from the sunny days collecting bulle fruit, Arlecchino’s eyes snapping fully open to find Furina reaching across the table for the last slice of cake. Furina jumped slightly at the rigid gaze thrown at her and froze. She laughed nervously, withdrawing her hand somewhat, Arlecchino sitting up straighter with her eyes still transfixed on Furina’s hand.
“Would you like the last slice of cake, Miss Arl-...”
“...-ruere?”
Her mind blurred and she stood face to face with a phantom. Clervie reached out with a plate, the last slice of the House’s sponge cake atop it. They’d been training all day, cuts and bruises littered their body, a rather nasty cut on Clervie’s left cheek still bleeding slightly despite Peruere tending to it earlier.
Her stomach growled in anger, she hadn’t eaten in two days; none of them had, but this was all part of the training to become King, mother had said. What had Clervie said to her? Arlecchino’s mind swam dizzily, probably the exhaustion; her curse allowed her to push herself even more than the other children, but her body would always catch up with her eventually.
“Huh…?” she mumbled.
“I said, would you like the last slice of cake, Peruere?” Clervie asked as she smiled at her.
Clervie had always taken care of Arlecchino, even to her detriment sometimes. Her mother’s false kindness becoming lost in a mirror of purity, despite the cruelty of their world. Despite the beatings, the hunger, the endless competition… Clervie had always had a heart full of love, she had always been Arlecchino’s true hearth. A roaring fire in the cold, cursed life she had been burdened with.
Arlecchino would always protect her, always cherish her. She’d even forgo the last slice of cake for her, just to see her smiling.
“No thanks, Clervie. You’ve always had the sweeter t-...”
“...-ooth.”
“Eh?”
The world rushed back to Arlecchino, the sands of nostalgia and memory washed away by the dumbfoundedness of the Hydro Archon. She could feel pressure building behind her eyes, but her tightly wound veneer snapped back against it, the feelings would be buried until she was alone.
“If you’re sure then...” Furina spoke again, reaching for the last slice of cake.
She ate it with her hands, eschewing the decorum that would be expected, and cramming as much cake in her mouth as possible. Arlecchino’s heart twisted, she ate exactly like Clervie always had, recklessly devouring her food no matter the situation.
Perhaps that was why she hated Furina so much, for all the things about her that reminded Arlecchino of Clervie. There was a hopeless obliviousness to her, to the reality of their situation; Furina would never bear the pains that Clervie had, and still keep smiling. Clervie would look out at the world begging for an end to her suffering, and still manage to keep strong.
Furina would never be willing to sacrifice her life for the things she cared about, and it enraged Arlecchino every time they met.
Furina’s plate clinked on the table, yet again drawing Arlecchino’s thoughts back to the present. She smiled nervously again, always a false smile, and sipped at her tea. Arlecchino bolted upright, her legs snapping straight as she loomed over Furina, the smaller woman almost dropping her teacup in shock.
“Lady Furina, I believe it’s about time to end our appointment. I have other responsibilities which I must attend to.” Arlecchino said, a faint growl echoing in her throat.
“O-of course.” Furina responded, a quiver to her voice. Furina escorted Arlecchino to the door, The Knave half a step ahead of her. “I look forward to the next time we meet, Miss Arlecc-...”
“...-ere.”
Arlecchino was back in the past. Clervie stood in front of her again, they were now in their late teens; taller and much stronger than they ever had been. Arlecchino remembered this moment, they were being sent out into the wilds for a week; more survival training, but they had been forbidden from travelling together, they had to survive alone or they would suffer remedial action upon their return.
Clervie beamed at her, radiant as ever despite the bags under her eyes and the echoes of trauma lurking behind her irises. The dusk light warmed the colours on her face, rainbows forming on the surface of her eyes. Arlecchino hadn’t thought about it too much at the time, but it was the most beautiful thing that she’d ever seen in her life.
Her arm reached out on its own, touching Clervie’s jawline lightly as she stroked a faint, old scar with her thumb.
“Be careful out there, Cler-...”
“..-ina.”
The warm skin under her thumb turned pale and cold. The woman in front of her was no longer smiling with love, but stood frozen and shaking in fear. Furina couldn't even blink, raw terror in her expression as tears formed in the corner of her eyes.
“I-I’m sorry.” Furina whispered.
“I’m s-sorry.”
“T-thank y-ou.. for the cake.”
“Thank. You…”
Something in Arlecchino’s chest twisted, a tightness she hadn’t felt for years. Trauma tearing at the burnt and blackened stone that occupied the centre of her ribcage. Fingers fell from Furina’s face, Arlecchino’s arm falling limply by her side, the Archon still visibly shaking as she turned on her heel and walked away.
Sharp metal heels stamped out a staccato rhythm as Arlecchino stormed through the streets of Fontaine. Grey clouds threatened to rain almost as much as her countenance threatened to murder, people not even trying to hide how much they were trying to avoid her. The feeling in her chest tugged her forward, urging her to run to her destination, her mind reining in the feeling despite the agony.
The door to the House of the Hearth flew open, slamming against the wall behind it, plaster cracking under the force. The door swung closed just as quickly, rattling in its frame and causing the other denizens of the House to jump, all eyes on Arlecchino as her heels dug into the polished wood beneath her feet.
Rarely used, and always locked, her bedroom was on the top floor of the House. Three flights of stairs later and she stood breathing heavily as the key turned in the lock, the faint smell of dust lingering in the air. The bed was pristine, the curtains were drawn, and a large but functional wardrobe in the corner stood undisturbed.
She stalked over to it, the door to the bedroom closing softly behind her, and she pulled the bottom drawer to the wardrobe open. A rapier sat in the drawer positioned pristinely in front of a lockbox, she ignored the cold steel and pulled the lockbox from the drawer, placing it on a dresser to her side.
Arlecchino ran her fingers under her collar, reaching for the thin silver chain that lay on her skin. Tugging it out, she found the key that always sat over her heart, a delicate piece with the bow in the shape of a lumidouce bell. The key slid into the lockbox, the well oiled lock turning with barely a click, and the lid slid open.
Two soft toys stared up at her and she let out a shuddering breath. Two rabbits laid there, one white and black with ears standing up, the other pink with long floppy ears. They gazed up at the sky, in much the same way that her and Clervie had watched the stars, side-by-side in silence.
Mother had insisted they had all learnt sewing, so that they may maintain their own clothing while at the House. She had told the children to create little dolls of themselves as practice, with varying rates of success. She and Clervie had taken it upon themselves to create each other’s, really it was Clervie’s idea, but the smile she had said it with made it impossible for Peruere to decline.
Arlecchino’s fingers trembled slightly as they traced over the surface of the pink fur. Her teeth clenched as she fought the pressure behind her eyes again. She didn’t cry then, she hadn’t cried since, and she refused to cry now. Blood roared in her ears, and a small whine threatened to escape her throat; her other fist clenched as her eyes closed and she turned her head away.
“Thank you…”
“I’m sorry…”
Her voice cracked, and a sob bubbled up in her throat. The sound of her grinding teeth echoed in the lonely space, and balefire played along her clenched fist lighting the room in a haunting red light. Her eyes cracked open, her vision blurring through the moisture on her eyes, but something caught her attention in another corner of the room.
The light from the balefire flickered off some needles of a sewing kit left sitting from when Arlecchino had taught Lynette how to sew, not by force, it was something the girl had asked to learn. She walked over to it, digging out fabrics, thread, and stuffing, and sat back down at the dresser, before a soft knock at the door delayed the start of her sewing.
“Yes?” She answered.
“Father?” A timid but calm voice asked as the door crept open.
“Lynette. Do you need something?”
“You seemed angry, is everything okay?” Lynette asked, with a small flick of an ear.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Arlecchino lied, swallowing tightly.
“Then I shall leave you to it then…”
Lynette turned, closing the door behind her, before hearing a much quieter, more subdued “Lynette?” from the darkness.
“Yes?” she asked, curiosity reaching her voice.
“Am I a good Father?” Arlecchino asked, looking longingly into the lockbox and Clervie’s doll.
“You are harsh and strict.” Lynette started. “But you are fair. You saved us, you trained us, and you take care of us.”
Arlecchino nodded in the dark, almost shocked at hearing that many words from Lynette in one go.
“Without you, I would be dead, or worse. It may not be everyone’s idea of what perfect parenthood should be, but you are the best parent I’ve ever had.” Lynette concluded, agonising seconds passed before she closed the door again.
Arlecchino reached out for the pink toy in the lockbox, pulling it out and crushing it against her waistcoat with both hands as if she were trying to stuff it into her chest. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip, and a long, grief-stricken groan rolled out of her mouth, years of emotional control failing to resist it.
Her soul fractured into a thousand pieces as the walls of her mind collapsed, memories of eating cake, picking flowers, healing wounds, and laying in silence together, all flooded through her. She clenched her eyes tightly shut but, much like Clervie had fallen from her arms all those years ago, tears fell from them like streaks of starlight in the night sky.
* * *
Furina strode into her office in the Palais Mermonia, another successful trial concluded and her spirits had been lifted. Her disastrous meeting where The Knave had subtly threatened her long forgotten, or at least rationalised away until next time.
Her steps drew short as a steaming cup of tea, a slice of cake, and a mysterious box sat on her desk. As she peered closer, she noticed the aroma of the tea: her favourite, and the cake was one of Hotel Debord’s limited slices. She sat down at her desk, curious looking down at the box before pulling at the ornately tied red ribbon.
She gasped as she found a soft toy inside, it was clearly a version of her, but in the form of a rabbit. Blue coat, blue hat, and amazingly clear gemstones for eyes; the craftsmanship was second to none, but there was no name, no return address. Whoever had sent these gifts had done it anonymously, and she wondered if she would ever find out who it was.
As she devoured the cake with her hands, her attention was drawn to a note that had been hiding under the slice; two words in exquisite penmanship…
I’m sorry.
How I Long To See
Rainbows In Your Eyes Again
Watching Stars In Spring