Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Monseiur Neuvillette?” Furina lifts her head from where she had been lounging on the couch. It is her a hundredth and fifty seventh April, and she isn't sure she can tolerate another one.

"What is it?" Neuvillette looks up from the pile of paperwork. They are in one of the upper rooms of the Palais Mermonia, enjoying the large windows and sunlit sky.

Furina hesitates. On one hand, Neuvillette is probably busy. On the other, he is the only other person in Fontaine who knows what it means to live for an eternity.

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” Furina asks.

“A walk? For what purpose?” Neuvillette sets down his pen..

“None at all.” Furina leaps to her feet. She throws the balcony door open, to a gust of refreshing spring air. She twirls on the terrace, her giddy smile not quite meeting her eyes. “The Archon and Iudex should be able to enjoy the nation they’ve built.”

The other reason, which she leaves unspoken, was she can't stand another minute in that airless place. The marble walls are too pale, carvings too ornate, the too-big hallways actually too small. 

Neuvillette puts down his pen and joins her at the balcony. Fontaine lies sprawled before him, clean stone arches, glittering waterways, and the gilded decoration in the town square. People are everywhere, adults running afternoon errands, children playing hide-and-seek. A few dogs chase after the pigeons, and a melusine saunters along in the sun.

“The view from up here is extremely nice.” Neuvillette watches the melusine disappear into a sweets shop, a satisfied smile on his face. “I do not see why you wish to descend to the streets, especially since if we were to do so, you would need protection, a bodyguard—”

"Not if you disguise us. Please, Neuvillette.” She throws out a hand, her eyes alight with wild hope. “We could go wherever we wanted. Purchase something from Hotel Debord. Stop to pet a dog. Nobody’d be taking pictures of us. Nobody would be looking at us.”

When he still didn’t look convinced, she adds “Besides, it’s National Furina Day.” 

“National Furina Day?” Neuvilette tilts his head, his blue eyes seeing straight through Furina. “I believed that was in October.”

“I just declared another one to be today.” Furina leans against the railing, the wind blowing the strands of her white hair over the ledge. “There are two National Furina Days now.”

“Even if I were to agree…” Neuvillette casts a glance towards the desk, at the stack of papers inevitably awaiting his return. “It is half an hour there and back. Not to mention the time we would spend there. A full tour takes about an hour, and—”

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" Furina slams her hands over her ears, unable to stand another word. “I demand you stop worrying about time. We are immortals. We have an eternity.”

Her voice breaks, the jagged shards cutting her throat as she whispers “Please, Neuvillette? We have eternity.”

“If it truly means that much to you.” Neuvilette stares at Furina, her face unreadable as a blank piece of stone. “Then I must agree. What disguise would you like?”

“Anything but this.” 

Neuvilette waves a hand. A shimmer of Hydro, and Furina’s suit turns black. Her skirt vanishes, replaced by elongated coattails that flutter behind her in the wind. Her hair, too, has turned black, the cut shortened, no longer weighing heavy on her shoulders. For himself, Neuvillette summons a simple adventurers’ getup, blonde hair, leather boots with a dark green coat and white shirt.  

“Wonderful! Exquisite!” Furina twirls, admiring her new outfit. She skps towards the door. “Come, my friend. Let us depart.”

A blur of Hydro, and they appear in a nearby alleyway, surrounded by dirty walls on both sides. The green shingles of the roofs above are stained, the alleyway full of scattered trash. Sewers run below the street, a pipe filled with water that had the faint cloudy feel of impurities, most likely feces.

“Eugh, what is that smell?” Furina pinches her nose shut, fanning the air ahead of her as she tiptoes around a pile of trash. “Do remind me to do something about it later.”

“Of course, Miss Furina.” The tips of Neuvillette’s ears quiver, eyes darting from shadow to shadow to be sure the alleyway was safe. “I believe we are in the Northeastern Sector. Well known for their cafes.”

“Cafes? Say no more!” Furina dashes into the street. Sighing, Neuvillette follows a few paces behind. The street outside is fairly busy, filled with the hubbub of a beautiful spring afternoon. A woman in a blue dress waves as she walks her pink poodle. Two kids chase each other around a nearby streetlamp, and three teenagers lean against the wall behind. 

“Can you smell it?” Furina turns to Neuvillette. “Caramel.” 

Neuvillette sniffed the air. He gestures to a nearby cafe. “My senses tell me it originates from there.”

“Well done!” Furina took off, a bell chiming on the door as she dashed in. The interior was small but cozy, well-lit with round tables and plush chairs. Dark plants lined a sandy, wood wall, and a poodle slept at the foot of the nearest table. The scent of sugar wafts through the air, sweet and buttery and warm.

“Look!” Furina grabs Neuvillette’s hand, pulling him towards the sign covered in near-illegible, looping script. “Isn’t it beautiful, how much they have?”

“May I help you, miss?” The cashier headed over, his hair the same shade of yellow as the Garde from before. Furina flinches before recovering, bowing extravagantly to examine the menu.

“Now what shall I order?” Furina peers at the items, scrutinizing each as if she were a culinary judge. “Do tell, what is good today?”

“Caramel croissants are our specialty.” He taps a drawing of a croissant covered in chocolate. “They come with hot chocolate.” 

“Splendid!” Furina clapped. “I’ll take two.”

“Great. That will be five thousand mora.” The cashier said. 

“Mora?” Furina stares blankly. “Oh. That mora.”

“Do not worry.” Neuvillette supplies a few golden coins. “I was sure to bring mortal money.”

“Thank you!” Furina throws her arms around Neuvillette, the force of her embrace causing him to stumble. “I’ll pay you back later.”

“Mortal money?” The cashier gapes for half a second before shrugging. So long as they pay, he doesn’t care who they are. “Take a seat. The order will be delivered to your table. Have a nice day.”

“So this is a day in a mortal’s life.” Furina walks through the maze of tables, bustling waiters, chatting parents, laughing teenagers, even a crying child. She runs her fingers over the edge of the nearest one, the smooth wood cool and refreshing as a dip in the sea. Warm smells, buttery croissants, sweet jam and bitter coffee waft through the air. The light tinkling of distant wind chimes, the soft whir of indemnitium and guardian meka echo through the cafe. The sparkle of sunlight on glass windows, the lush green plants adorning the cafe’s exterior—

This is what Furina is playing the role of an Archon for. The lies she tells, the loneliness, the pain, everything is all to preserve this one cafe. The rest of Fontaine fades away, a blur of water and white stone. This pocket of warmth and laughter, sunshine and pastries is the only thing that rested on her shoulders. Furina lets out a soft laugh. How much easier everything would be if it truly were just for one cafe. 

“Miss, excuse me.” A waitress stood behind her, a platter of cookies, tarts, and tea balanced on both arms. Her voice holds a forced cheer, the light and airy customer service tones ringing hollow. "Would it be possible to allow me to pass?"

Behind her the window, and beyond that a balcony from which the entirety of Fontaine is visible. Stone arced above white tiles and golden fountains, women with parasols and men in pinstriped suits strolling below. And in the distance is the ocean, a brilliant aquamarine blue against verdant hills.

Fontaine is beautiful, and fated for destruction.

“Miss.” The waitress speaks again, slightly sharper but still saccharine. “As I have said before, please do not block the pathways. Pardon me.”

“No, I can’t.” Furina snaps. She hates the tone the woman is using, the sweetness that saturated every word, the thinly veiled frustration that hid behind every syllable. Like the speaker wants to curse, scream, or at the least, speak freely, but never did. 

Even so, she regrets snapping immediately, clapping a hand over her mouth as Neuvillette gives her a concerned glance.

Perhaps that is why Furina turns a tad too sharply, banging into the nearby table to send a glass of lemonade crashing to the floor.

Furina doesn’t move, allowing the sour-sweet liquid to trickle into her shoes. Pieces of glass lie on the soaked rug, twinkling against the dark red fabric.

Is this what Fontaine will look like if the Prophecy comes true? Buildings crumbled like a child’s sandcastle, bodies strewn across the streets like dead rats?

“Furina!” Neuvilette is there in an instant, grabbing Furina’s shoulders as he turns her to face him. The lemonade evaporates, Neuvillette’s hair glowing as he dries Furina’s clothes. “Are you hurt?”

“Furina?” The waitress claps a hand to her mouth, horrified at playing a role in spilling lemonade on her Archon. “You’re—”

“No! No.” Furina smiles, her body cold as if she had plunged into icy water. “I'm sorry. You are mistaken. I am not the Archon.”

She turns and flees, the rhythmic thuds of her footsteps against wood drowned out by the chattering crowd. 

She stops half a block away, leaning on her knees as she pants. Her chest is too tight, she can’t get breathe, she is drowning, drowning, just like the people of Fontaine will if—

“Do you want a croissant? I managed to get one to go.” Neuvillette appears behind her. He sucks in a sharp breath as he sees Furina’s state. “Are you all right?”

“Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean–” Furina takes a deep breath, her face smoothing out as she says “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“If you ever have something you wish to tell me, I am always available to lend an ear.” He offers Furina the croissant. “These have a warm, buttery taste, not unlike water sourced from freshwater springs two to five miles away from the fire crab.”

“Two to five?” Furina latches onto the subject change, her eyes widening in fake surprise. “How specific. Do tell me why.”

“Close enough to be warmed, but not close enough that the sulfuric scent permeates the water.” Neuvillette’s expression turns dreamy as he waxes about the quality of the water. “It also has the most peculiar taste of some underground mineral, hot and refreshing at the same time.”

“You’re so particular in your choice of water.” Furina smiles before biting into the croissant. It is everything Neuvilette said it would be, warm, buttery, and with a slight hint of char. She lets out a laugh, slightly shaky but genuine. 

“Again, I would like to repeat that if there is ever something you would like to tell me, I am always open to lend an ear.” Neuvillette says.

“Just taking a walk with me is fine.” Furina takes a seat on the nearby bench. Neuvillette remains standing, Furina looking up at him as she asks “If anything were to befall the people of Fontaine, what would you do?”

Neuvillette pauses. “I am not quite sure. It depends on the type of disaster. I would, however, prioritize the safety of the remaining people and attempt to rebuild.”

“What if there is nobody left?” Furina whispers, her voice shattered like the glass in the cafe. "What if everybody were to die because you failed? What would you do?"

“Honestly, I am not sure.” Neuvillette draws a long breath. He takes a seat on the bench next to her. "But fortunately, such an outcome would be extremely unlikely." 

"Khaenri'ah." Furina whispers so quietly Neuvillette isn't sure he heard right. "That's what happens when we try to defy Celestia."

Neuvillette casts Furina a curious glance. "What do you mean by---"

Neuvillette cuts himself off as he realizes.

Furina gives him a wry smile. "That."

"If it's any comfort, Celestia has yet to wage total war on us. I have been asking the surveyors to routinely check the water levels every year." Neuvillette rests his hand on Furina's. His skin is surprisingly soft, but his palm is warm and steady. "They have been falling for the past four."

"They could suddenly rise." Furina mutters.

"Or they could remain constant for both of our reigns." 

"Then, it will merely become our successor's problem." Furina shakes her head.

"Then we shall have plenty of time to figure it out." Neuvillette frowns. The sky begins to darken slightly, and a few drops of rain hit the earth. "Is there something you aren't telling me?"

Furina freezes. Should she tell him, or should she keep her secret? The words sit bitter on the tip of tongue, and Furina desperately wants to spit them out. 

"I--"

A bright red ball rolls to a stop before Furina's feet. A little girl comes running after it, panting as she shouts back to her friends "Found it!"

"Is this yours?" Neuvillette holds the ball out to her. She takes it and disappears. 

To Furina, he asks "What is it that you wished to say?" 

"I don't think the macarons at the Palais are very good. The feet are too small."

To tell Neuvillette the truth would be an irreversible decision, and result in her risking everything. Furina isn't sure she trusts fate enough to do that.

"Very well." Neuvillette nods. Furina knows he doesn't buy the blatant lie. "I'll tell the chefs." 

He gives Furina a meaningful glance. "And if there are any other complaints, you can feel free to inform me. Even if their nature requires that they be kept a secret."

Furina nearly opens her mouth, but closes it just in time. The worst of the urge to spill her secret has passed, leaving a vague emptiness behind. For the first time that day, she is calm, with Neuvillette by her side. 

Furina smiles. "Perhaps in the future. But none for now."