Chapter Text
The sky over Fontaine was covered with dense clouds. Though summer had just ended and the region had barely stepped into autumn, it had been raining for weeks. It was the kind of rain that soaked through not only into the bones, but into the thoughts: a rain that seemed to want to wash away more than just the city’s cobblestones.
Inside the Opera Epiclese, the atmosphere was solemn. Velvet blue curtains cascaded from above, and the echo of footsteps on marble blended with the soft tuning of string instruments. Golden chandeliers emitted a warm glow, but even that seemed insufficient against the chill brought on by the tribute to Callas, the former leader of Spina di Rosula.
Navia walked down the main stairs, upright and composed. She was dressed in a black velvet gown, lined with golden details shaped like rose thorns. Her hair, styled in an intricate updo, was held in place by a clip nestled among her curls, embedded by a big bow. Without a flicker in her expression, not a single tear was left to cry: there was no one left to accompany her. After Lumine’s departure and the death of her two bodyguards, Melus and Silver, she knew she only had herself, she had accepted it. Now, there was nothing left to do but move forward.
Once inside the main hall, on either side, Fontaine’s nobles and officials members from the Court turned to her, watching in silence. They couldn’t help but feel pity for her (though pity was the last thing Navia wanted from the crowd) Clorinde, standing in a corner, greeted her with a subtle nod, mirrored by several members of the judicial body.
In a side balcony, Neuvillette stood beside Furina, wearing one of his usual blue suits embroided with silver details. From there, his figure stood out in its typical temperate composure.
Furina, in a gown with bubble-shaped gemstones, leaned towards him with a frown.
”It’s raining again, Neuvillette. You’re going to ruin the whole evening…This looks like a funeral… What’s wrong with you?” She complained.
He didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on Navia.
The rain beat insistently against the window panes. Each drop, a judgment left unspoken, A regret never voiced.
Navia looked up just once as the distance between her and the stage grew closer.
That figure above, unchanging, impassive, embodied everything she had learned to despise.
How ironic.
That the same man who did nothing to save her father was now a witness to his tribute.
In the lobby, a man emerged from a side corridor. His coat hung open, revealing a black shirt that clung to his frame and a belt bearing the symbol of the Fortress of Meropide. His gait was carefree, as if unaware of the solemn act about to begin.
”You're late” said Navia, not stopping to look at him, eyes fixed forward.
“But right on time to cheer you up, princess” Wriothesley replied with his usual mischief, glancing her up and down. Their eyes met, and he gave her a playful wink “You look stunning. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Navia smiled to herself.
Wriothesley never took anything too seriously, but she couldn’t deny that he helped her feel more at ease in moments like this. Though he lived in the fortress and she in Poisson, both underground, they remained bound by their childhood friendship that remained strong before Callas shut it down for the sake of both organizations, Spina di Rosula and the Fortress of Meropide. The Duke gave her arm a warm squeeze before stepping away to give her space.
Inside, the ceremony began. A translucent glass screen projected memories: photos of Callas, fragments of official records, even footage of Spina di Rosula in action. The room was dimmed in dark reverence, lit only by the glowing echoes of the past.
Navia ascended to the dais at the same time a perfect silence fell over the crowd.
Her voice, when she spoke, did not falter. Each word was honed with the precision of someone who had long rehearsed them.
“I’m not here to glorify or exonerate. My father wasn’t perfect. He was brave, and he was also a man abandoned by the very system who swore to protect him…”
Neuvillette closed his eyes for a moment. The rain now struck the glass dome with more force.
“…Justice that refuses to see is as guilty as the crime it ignores. We won’t talk about redemption. We’ll talk about the truth. Because as long as we keep silencing pain with hollow speeches, we’ll continue to fail…”
When Navia stepped down, her gaze briefly met his. A long, sharp stare that held everything unspoken between them, so long that it made the Supreme Judge’s chest tighten.
The event continued with formal speeches and live music, but the energy had shifted. Drinks were served in a nearby gallery adorned with yellow roses, mimicking Spina’s emblem. Navia stayed to the side, holding a glass without drinking anything from it.
Furina was swarming around Neuvillette, demanding and capricious. Her tone was part theatrical, part reproachful.
”Why are you so quiet tonight? You usually intervene. People always expect you to speak…”
”It wasn’t my place to interrupt” he replied, eyes still on the room.
“Do you still feel guilty?” she asked, ready to defend him from anyone who dared to question the Iudex.
Neuvillette didn’t respond. Frustrated by his lack of reaction, Furina turned around, her heels clicking on the marble as she left.
Wriothesley approached Navia again, this time holding a glass of white wine.
”This place is riddled with false sympathy and cheap gossip. I have a better idea: we could sneak out before the next round of speeches. I doubt you want to hear strangers talking about your father as if they knew him.”
She raised a brow, amused.
“And where would you take me? To the fortress?”
“I have a secret library with very comfy armchairs and some excellent aged whisky. It’s not all work, you know. And you never come visit me…”
“A trip to the most dangerous prison in Teyvat doesn’t sound particularly tempting…”
“You’d be surprised how versatile my office is.”
She turned away, hiding a small smile. She was used to these kinds of advances from the Duke and typically let them pass.
When Wriothesley moved away, Navia found herself surrounded by assistants and officials suffocating her in empties small talks. She responded politely, with practiced softness. In a moment of quiet, her eyes found Neuvillette, now among the main floor guests. His steps were solemn and his presence imposed a royal silence around him.
He stopped a few feet away. The crowd parted, instinctively creating space between them.
Navia bit her lip. She didn’t want to interact with him—at least, not today. Not now.
“Navia” he acknowledged her with a slight bow of his head “Thank you for your speech. It was powerful and moving.”
“You don’t need to lie” she replied instantly, firmly, though she couldn’t meet his eyes “Part of it was directed at you.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched.
“I think it’s still valid” Neuvillette continued, trying to sound kind. As a dragon, he still struggled to grasp human emotions “How is the reconstruction in Poisson? I heard it’s nearly completed.”
“Don’t waste time with small talk, please” Navia shook her head “This isn’t necessary.”
She turned and walked away. Neuvillette followed her form with his eyes until she disappeared into the crowd. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to decipher the tension within his own chest.
That night, it kept raining in Fontaine. Even hours after the event ended, the city was still drenched.
In their rooms, both Navia and the Judge stared out of their respective windows, searching for answers to questions they couldn’t yet name.
In her chamber, the new head of Spina di Rosula tried to sort through her own heart. She chalked up her turmoil to the ceremony for her father.
Neuvillette, on the other hand, found himself stirred in guilt and…In something else.
Something that held his heart in constant tension.
Whatever it was…
It wouldn’t let the rain stop.