Chapter Text
On this fine, sunny day in Fontaine, the streets lay improbably awash in the wake of a storm.
In a certain corner of the City of Justice, where the noisy clang of the blacksmith resounded through the street around the clock, not even that din could drown out the thunder crackling through the air.
But that didn’t stop timid onlookers and gossips from craning their heads around corners and over balconies to brave the eye of the storm.
“What’s wrong with making one exception?!”
The voice of Aether, the renowned traveler, thundered onto the pavement.
“...Excusez-moi, but I’m sorry if I drew this line in the sand without worrying about the grains on the other side!”
The voice of Furina de Fontaine, ex-Archon and actress extraordinaire, splashed violently upon the cobblestones.
“Well... Is there anything else we can do? This performance really means a lot to the guy we're working for…”
The voice of Paimon, cutting irritatingly through like cold drizzle, pattered against the walls.
And Furina could take no more.
“Have I not made myself clear? You're barking up the wrong tree here! I don't want this job, and nor do I know anyone who would.”
For a moment, a flash of regret passed through her face and it seemed the storm might have abated then and there.
But it didn't.
“I… I have nothing more to say to either of you! Just leave me in peace! Y-you’ve upset my life enough already in the past few months and you come here, pushing when I'm already being reasonable to you!”
She took a deep breath.
“I know I was willing to talk to you before now… but since you’ve made yourselves very clear…”
“Don't you ever come near me with this sort of foolishness, again.”
“I… I’m so-”
“LEAVE!”
A slam of the door, a rattling turn of the key, and the storm had finally passed.
Immediately did the gossips whisper among themselves of this new development, with even a certain keen Steambird correspondent aghast at what she’d heard.
A few angry glares went unseen by the Traveler and his companion as they numbly trod back up the steps.
Aether’s dismay could only grow tenfold from here on out.
He was torn, utterly torn, between letting it show or remain buried behind a stonefaced mask. Never mind the fact that the situation had somehow resolved itself, Dulphy and Lauwick’s arguing, Paimon’s “Hey, traveler, are you alright?” melding into the static of the background as the past five minutes, going six, weighed heavily in his heart.
As soon as he’d gotten the commission, her name had immediately come to mind. Not just because she was the finest actress in all of Fontaine, heck, in all of Teyvat, he’d say.
I’ve just wanted to see you, all this time… he thought forlornly, the apology he’d had prepared since the day of the flood tasting like ash in the back of his mouth the further the situation escalated. And though he’d wanted to wring Paimon around - by the archons, how he wanted her to be a little more tactful than ever today in particular, to Furina of all people! - he’d had to admit some responsibility for starting all this.
He should have been more sensitive. He should have listened to his doubts before he’d even though Furina was prepared to take the commission.
He shouldn’t have pushed even after she’d said her very simple “no”. He should have told Paimon to do the same, left earlier, apologized while she still heard reason, anything-
Why didn’t he?
He should have remembered her tears. Half a millennium’s worth of suffering, and all he had ever did was crush her under more pain with his misguided intentions.
“...so lonely… just… how much longer?”
He heard the plaintive sobbing that had haunted him ever since the day he’d taken a rest after an evening hunt and sat on the Fountain of Lucine - the shock he’d felt, hearing her so tired and desperate despite not seeing her around, was something he swore he'd never forget.
“...Please, everyone, anyone, just listen to me. I swear, I really am your Archon…”
He saw just how battered she was, as he unraveled the fine tapestry of her painstaking work, all woven to protect Fontaine. She couldn't even bring herself to weep or laugh or revel once Fontaine had been saved; she immediately retired, exhausted, to solitude.
So why didn't he think for a second that she wasn't in any shape to take such a request? Now he remembered - but all too late.
As he despondently pondered his blunder, Paimon attempted to shake him out of his reverie. “Cmon, Traveler, we have to go! Gotta get to the… Rehearsal venue… Traveler…?”
He couldn't even apologize, all the chances for that were shot now. He couldn't even make amends.
“Traveler, what's wrong? W-wait, Dulphy, Lauwick, Just a sec… “
He’d never see her smile again. And even if it was part of an act, her smile was precious. One he’d sworn to protect, and yet had utterly destroyed.
And as he trod dejectedly towards Paimon and tried to keep his chin up, he tried to put the thought of Furina, cold, hurt and alone, away from his mind.
Just gotta get through this, now.
Behind the door, Furina let out a deep sigh as she sank back into the wood.
That hurt. More than anything she'd ever imagined or experienced.
All throughout her time observing the Traveler in his journey through Fontaine, she'd always held a high opinion of him. But as cruel fate and damning prophecies decreed, all her gratitude and admiration of the man she held so dear to her heart had to stay subsumed by the shackles of her role as "Hydro Archon".
All hopes of her ever approaching him, to be genuine, bare, even if just for a second - if not for herself, then for the sake of Fontaine - were snuffed out as soon as she declared her challenge to bring him to the Opera Epiclese to be tried, right at his very first steps into Fontaine.
When he stood for Fontaine, when he desperately scoured its hidden depths to save a people that were not his from their demise, when he sprang the snare to snatch her up for the sake of the nation she was supposed to protect, she dared not trust him - even when he gave her the chance, and even when her heart ached so longingly for it all the same.
“I can be your witness, Furina.”
She remembered the sincerity in his eyes, and wondered if the man outside, now leaving, was the same one. What a far cry from the person who’d taken her heart.
Coming all this way, to look down on her in her destitution? Cast mockery over her plight? And then, use her as a mere tool, a means to an end?
That was the extent that he saw her, wasn't it? A pawn. A sideshow. Entertainment to pass his time until he moved on to Natlan, or Snezhnaya, or whichever realm on Teyvat there was or wasn’t, and then left it entirely.
She should have seen it, as he so cruelly denounced her to her own people, exposed her for the utter fraud she was, working them to a frenzy as all her hope left her.
And yet, through the swirling haze of frustration and disappointment in her head, her gaze fell upon the kaleidoscopic panes of her door - and through the mess of colors, she saw him gazing back as he trudged slowly away through the street.
His eyes were full of longing. Regret. Sadness. And all those so similar to hers.
And for a moment, the kindness in her heart wished so desperately to give. To come rushing out the door with a hastily constructed alibi, regardless of the piercing stares of the Traveler, the companion, and the subjects she so desperately wished to avoid.
She wanted to immediately forgive, and forget, all to be with him, even if for just a moment. Her hand reached for the doorknob-
Then reality came crashing down, as she thought to herself.
“This won't be the last time I will be abandoned.” She sniffed, rogue tears snaking down her cheeks.
“I must get through this… I must be strong...”
But as he turned away, perhaps for the very last time, she could not ignore the surge of loneliness and despair bursting in her bosom.
And as she returned to her bed in a stupor, trying to clear her mind, those final images of him remained burned into her sight, and twice woke her to a tear-soaked pillow that night. Words sprang unbidden to her lips, said in the quietest of whispers, as if unwilling to betray her own self.
"...please... Come back..."
Days later, no headline in the Steambird announced the closure of the forlorn traveling troupe, so weathered by the trials of fate.
However, through a whirlwind of perseverance, catharsis and rediscovery, the troupe still soared on their last note, to a generous audience of about forty-three in the performing hall they called home, for the last time. Director Aurelie’s children, spurred on by the Traveler, had avenged and honored her memory - rediscovering the truth of her passing, and delivering the play flawlessly from start to finish, with even Dulphy soldiering on through her state.
Perhaps, Aether thought as a standing ovation ripped through the humble theater, that was how it was meant to end. With no fanfare, but with all the loose ends tied up.
...if only she was there to see it all. Maybe things would have gone differently.