Chapter Text
Snezhevich: Orphans raised within the House of the Hearth are given the surnames Snezhevich and Snezhevna for males and females respectively. Some orphans will be given new names entirely along with their designated surname.
Snezhevich was the surname given to all male children of the Hotel Bouffes d'Ete. Similarly, girls had the name Snezhevna. Bennett, whose last name was Snezhevich, was no exception to this rule.
Bennett had gone through many last names—first, it was Villeneuve, then Noyer, and now: Snezhevich. According to the complaints he overheard from some staff, going up to the Palais Mermonia to request these name changes was a pain. Bennett had visited the Palais various times over the past month, and he was still thinking about it. It had been very high up, and very pretty. The employees were nice, and yet he didn't think about the place too fondly.
He had arrived at the orphanage only a few days ago. Beforehand, he had been floating around various places. Sedene's place was the most memorable, because everything in it was tiny—even for him, who was five years old. Maybe it was because Sedene was a melusine, and melusines were small.
Upon arrival, he was told his last name was now Snezhevich, and that they hoped he would settle in nicely. After he was shown to his room—shared with three other kids and warned by the oldest, Eudon, to hide his stuff for the first few days. Some of the kids had sticky fingers. The woman who was with him, laughed lightly, said, "If anyone steals your stuff, Bennett, then you can just come to me. I'll make sure to take care of them."
Eudon had snorted, and the woman had continued on her merry way.
The second day, Eudon had tried to wake him up for breakfast. In response, Bennett groaned and turned away. He tugged the blankets over his head, and said he wasn't hungry.
"Your loss," Eudon muttered, and then left the room. By the time midnight had fallen and Bennett realized he had not gotten up once, he quietly left his bed and snuck out the door. He was hungry, having skipped breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He didn't remember the layout that well, but he knew the kitchen was downstairs.
The last stair he went down let out an enormous creak, even though he had sworn the stairs didn't creak yesterday. He froze, and the same woman from yesterday suddenly appeared from a sideroom.
"Oh!" she said. "It's you."
Instead of replying, he just stared.
"I don't think I introduced myself," she continued. "I'm the director of the orphanage. You can call me Mother. You must be hungry, I didn't see you in the mess hall."
Silently, Bennett nodded.
She smiled, her wrinkles shifting. "Follow me. I can fix you something to eat. I hope this doesn't become a habit, though."
Bennett was simply glad to not get in trouble—this was a new, strange place. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be back at Sedene's house, where everything was small but at least it was familiar. Or, maybe, he considered. I could go back to living with Francine. But the one-month time period had already passed, and he was not going to go back to living with Francine again.
He sat on a chair dragged to the counter as she danced around the kitchen. She was skilled and graceful, humming a tune as she did so. "I don't cook often," she commented. "Usually, I leave it to the chefs. But, it's nice to feel a little closer to everyone. Cooking is the window to the soul, don't you think?"
It smelled warm—his stomach rumbled. The woman called Mother continued to stir the pot, sprinkling in a seasoning here and there. She pulled out two bowls, and poured warm soup into both—each with a spoon. She handed one bowl to him, and sipped at the other.
"Thank you," Bennett said.
The woman tilted her head. "So, is anything on your mind?"
He shook his head.
"I hope you're willing to come out of your room tomorrow," she said. "I understand that this is a new place, but sometimes you have to be brave, and be adventurous. You and Eudon seem to get along well enough, he could accompany you for the day."
Adventurous. That word makes his heart pound—and not in a good way. It felt like a big ol' rock had found its way into his throat, and wouldn't leave. "I don't wanna be adventurous." he muttered into his soup.
"Why not?"
"That's a thing adventurers do," he answered. "I don't wanna be an adventurer."
"Being adventurous isn't necessarily something only adventurers do," the woman called Mother said. "It's more…trying out new things, being flexible. Like not staying in your room all day. If you don't like that word, we could have you be, say…gutsy or courageous."
He bit his lip. That did sound a lot better than any word with adventure in it could be. "Okay," he said, nodding. "I'll be courageous."
Mother sipped on her own bowl of soup. "I'll tell Eudon to let you sleep in a little." She set the bowl down. "It's very late. So it'll do you some good to get extra sleep—tomorrows going to be a long day."
Bennett tried to gulp down the rest of his soup, only to find there was none left. The bowl was empty, and he stomach no longer rumbled. He would be able to sleep easy tonight, for there was a warm meal to set him to bed. Anxiously, he voiced a thought that had just entered his mind—and was trying to leave just as quickly. "I liked watching you cook," he said. "...do you think I could learn how?"
"See? You're already getting it." she cheered—although her voice never rose more than a whisper. "I'll put a word in with the cooks. Usually the older kids help out, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind someone a little younger in their ranks."
After that, Mother gathered the bowls and rinsed them off gently. Then she left them stacked on the empty drying rack. She said she'd get the pot later, and let him to the stairs with her hand pressed against his back. This time, they didn't creak when he went up them. Carefully, he opened the door to his room and snuck back into bed.
He fell asleep easier than he had weeks.
On the third day, when Eudon woke him up, he didn't groan and turn around. Or, well, he did. Soon after, though, he forced himself up and into his new slippers. Remembering what the boy had said the first day, Bennett reached into the small bag he had brought with him and let out a small sigh of relief when he felt that the expensive comb was still nestled there—comfortably within his pajamas and the blanket Sedene had given him.
"You're lively," Eudon commented.
Bennett yawned in response.
The two others who shared the room with them had already left. According to Eudon: Ives had woken up early and gone downstairs to read, and Lucien was on table-setting duty. "Mother asked me to show you the ropes," Eudon added. "So you'll be following me around for my chores today."
Bennett nodded, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Are we eating first? I'm hungry."
Eudon snorted. "Nah. Breakfast isn't ready yet…we're taking in the mail. Then breakfast."
"Got it." Bennett said.
Eudon made a follow me gesture, and then they both headed down the stairs. Despite the early morning, the orphanage was bustling. As they passed the kitchen, he spotted cooks carrying large pots and vaguely familiar faces ferrying around ingredient after ingredient. The living room sported the sight of Ives dusting the shelves and someone much older—even older than Eudon, who was 14, holding a clipboard and marking something for each person who walked inside.
Eudon flew right past them and into the front hallway—now that Bennett was more awake and more observational, he took note of the various photos on the wall. There were many, but one that stuck out the most was a large framed image of Mother, and a smaller, identical copy of her. They were both smiling.
Warm sun shone onto his skin as they stepped out from under the roof. Grass tickled his ankles, and Eudon went up the path all the way to the fence.
"This is where we get mail," Eudon said, pointing to the mailbox. "Every morning, someone from each room will come to gather it, alternating for the days of the week. We're in room one so we'll collect it each Sunday. It's up to the kids in the room to decide. Right now, me, Ives, and Lucien have it so the oldest goes first…then it cascades down to the youngest. "
Bennett listened dutifully, nodding along. "Got it."
"Since you're the youngest in our room now, it'll go: me, Lucien, Ives, then you. So remember to collect the mail three Sundays from now."
Bennett frowned. "But that's so far away!"
"Don't worry, we'll make sure to tell you when its your turn." Eudon reassured. "Now," he opened the mailbox. "We take the mail."
Inside the mailbox, there were three envelopes. Eudon gathered them, and on the way back told him, "Don't ever open them unless it's addressed to you. This is private stuff, yaknow?" However, right after that, he started shuffling through the envelopes and went: "Oooh, looks like Mari got a letter from her city boyfriend."
However, Eudon didn't open the letter, so even if it was gossip, it wasn't necessarily a breach of privacy. Upon walking up the porch steps, Bennett tripped over thin air. Eudon jumped in surprise, nearly dropping the letters. Bennett tried to break the fall with his elbows, and ended up skinning them instead.
And, as most five years old do when met with pain: he started crying.
Eudon, after quickly dropping the mail into Mother's office, had then led him to where they kept the bandages. Bennett sniffled the whole time—although the injury wasn't bad, he just couldn't stop. Not that Eudon's tight grip on his wrist was helping. Underneath the staircase was a cupboard, Bennett was glad to finally have his wrist free while Eudon opened it.
The pain from his skinned elbow was starting to fade into something more numb, now. After a few seconds, Eudon pulled out a pack of bandages and some weird liquid in a bottle. Then, he said, "Lemme see it."
Bennett obliged, showing the older boy his elbow. Eudon snorted. "It's not that bad," he remarked. "There's been—"
"Way worse." another voice joined in. Bennett whipped around, and found himself facing a girl around Eudon's age. "Way, way worse." a crude smile found itself across her lips and she held out a hand. On her palm, a harsh white scar sliced through her skin.. "Wanna know how I got it?"
Bennett, unsure of what to say, simply nodded his head.
"I was being a little dumb," she told him, her voice light and playful. "I was in the kitchen and I was learning how to use a knife. Mrs. Émile kept telling me all these things I shouldn't do, but I wasn't paying attention. Eventually, I dropped the knife and tried to catch it by the blade!"
Eudon giggled. "That was your own fault, Mari. And we all know it."
Mari groaned.
Bennett came to the conclusion that he wasn't sure if he wanted to learn to cook anymore. If knives had given Mari that scar, he didn't want to be anywhere near them.
Eudon huffed and then took a hold of his arm again. Once Bennett focused back on him he let go. "I'm gonna disinfect it." he said, grabbing a cloth and dabbing some of the liquid on it. Without warning, he then put the cloth on the wound and Bennett jerked back from the sting. Then, he wordlessly took a bandage and put it over the scrape. "There."
"Thanks," said Bennett. "Are we having breakfast now?"
A pleasant smell wafted from the direction of the kitchen. Mari made a noise, and left in the direction of the mess hall. Bennett assumed that meant yes.
Breakfast found him seated next to Eudon and a girl he didn't know. At this point, most of the faces were familiar. However, he struggled to remember everyone's name. Eudon introduced them, and he found out that her name was Alphonsine and that she was seven years old—but she said to just call her Phossie because Alphonsine was an old person's name. She pointed out that his name—Bennett, doesn't sound like it was of Fontainian origin. He laughed awkwardly and said it wasn't. She asked where it was from, and he told her Mondstadt.
She asked if he was from Mondstadt, and added, "but you don't look like you're from Mondstadt. Everyone from there is so pale."
"I've lived in Fontaine all my life." he told her, a little unwilling to mention that technically—technically, at least some fraction of his infanthood was spent in the varied regions of Natlan.
(He was never told how he ended up in the Windless Land, and he was too young to remember it anyway. For all intents and purposes, he had lived in Fontaine all his life.)
Phossie just hummed and shoved a croissant into her mouth. "Whatever." Then, she jerked up as if remembering something. "Oh, heads up," she said. "You better not mess up with chores or else you'll be sent to Dottore's labs!"
"Alphonsine," Eudon hissed to no avail. "You know that's not true—"
"Oh yeah?" Phossie snarked. "Then where did Peruere go, huh—"
To which, Bennett asked, "Whose Peruere?"
Eudon laughed nervously, and just waved it off. "No one you have to worry about."
The remainder of the day had him following Eudon around for various chores and jobs. Not only did Bennett help grab the mail, but he also helped: wash the dishes after breakfast, reorganize the living room bookshelves. Along with that, he sat in on the bigger kids tutoring, nearly broke a vase, and witnessed Lucien get in trouble for pulling on Phossie's pigtails.
Not once had he seen Mother—she must've been busy. By the time dinner rolled around, his feet hurt and he was so tired he nearly fell asleep in his meal. When dinner was over, he barely had enough energy to reach into his bag and see if the comb was still there. It was, and even though he was tired, he was not tired enough to fall asleep.
Moonlight spilled through the window, silver and cool. The orphanage was silent and he couldn't hear a single thing other than the low hum of insects outside. This place was very different from the Court of Fontaine, where he had lived before. Instead of the clicking machinery of the Gaurdmeks and the consistent low hum of technology, it was bugs and wind and grass.
For the second night in a row, Bennett quietly exited his bed. Instead of leaving the room, however, he tiptoed past the three other beds and to the window. Carefully, he hauled himself up onto the sill seat—he tried to open the window. It would not budge, not even with all his might. Even when he put his entire body into it, the window stayed closed.
"The windows don't open."
He jerked, his head snapping to the new voice. It was Lucien.
"They don't?" he echoed.
"Yeah. They don't." Lucien confirmed. "They used to, but some kids kept trying to climb through them. So they replaced them with windows that don't open."
He bit his lip. How far from the Court of Fontaine were they, he wondered. How far was he from the pristine roads and the machinery and the…his thoughts cut off. Not there. How far, he wondered, was he from the Palais Mermonia? From Sedene, and her house where everything was small?
How far away was he from Francine?
(From Mama, his mind whispered.)
He turns his head back to the window, staring up at the stars above. He couldn't see Celestia from here, but it surely hung in the sky.
Lucien sat across from him on the sill seat. When did he get there?
"I struggle to sleep too." said Lucien. "Sometimes I just wake up in the middle of the night and just can't go back. Or, I just can't go to sleep at all."
Bennett hummed in response, not entirely paying attention. Lucien kept quiet too after that. The time ticked by, minute by minute, hour by hour. The moon hung high—Bennett thought about the story of the three moon sisters that Sedene had told him. He thought about the moon being a corpse, and suddenly he didn't want to look up at the night sky anymore.
He got up from the sill seat and headed to his bed instead. Lucien turned around to face him. "Heading to bed?"
"Yeah," Bennett replied.
"Cool." Lucien said and turned back. "Being well-rested is good. If you're tired, you mess up."
"...Phossie said something about not messing up earlier," Bennett started. "She said that if you did, you'd get sent to—to some guy named Dottore's labs. Is that true?"
"Phossie exaggerates a lot," Lucien answered, unclear. "But that doesn't mean she's a liar."
After that, Bennett went to sleep. Lucien's words hung in his mind and he forced them down instead. It would do him no good to think about that stuff. So, instead, he dreamt.
His dreamt of the ocean—wide, infinite, dangerous. In that dream, he was a pirate looking for treasure and his crew had Mama as his right hand. Sedene sat in the crows nest to look for danger while Francine would help him plan their routes on the high seas. In that dream, he was the strongest pirate there was.
In that dream, he was happy.