Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE: Memory Lies In Us All
The day started like any other for Lady Rosalyne, waking up in warm cotton sheets, faithful maid at her side and a favorite drink immediately in hand as she was sat up in bed. Not much longer and breakfast was presented on a platter to her. Rosalyne gave a content sigh. A beautiful morning after a night of good rest.
Is it too much to ask to go back to this… permanently? Rosalyne wanted to remain cozy and warm forever like this. But days must start and that means she has a schedule to begin. From the assistance of her hand making in she was quickly and her usual dress, the corset back loosened as she did not feel up to having it too tight. She would most likely tighten it later, but for now a loose back did just fine. How she sat down at her vanity table she looked at the staff within the room.
“Please, may you all depart? I will not take too long by myself,” taking a glance at everyone in her room, there were far too many in here for her liking. She always did prefer her space especially in the mornings when it came to looking at her reflection.
Oh just by looking at her reflection it made her give a weary exhale. It's always her mother, that's always who she saw looking back at her when she looked in the mirror. She saw nothing of her father or her half siblings. Just her mother; her sculpted brows, her eye shape, even the curve of her lips like thin delicate lines of a painter. She used to adore being flooded with all types of compliments from the townsfolk, yeah now they only talk to her to compare her to her mother. She remembered being younger when her likeness to her mother wasn't as prevalent.
Nothing of her father was on her complexion, only hints of him were her eye color (but even then that was closer to her aunt's), the birthmark on her collarbone the same one as her father's, and that's the only things she could think of. The other things she hadn't mentioned to herself were all just similar to her grandparents on her mother's side. But she never saw anyone except her mother's stare back and it was awful nobody even noticed her as a separate individual from her mother, it had built up to this point where she could only hope to count the ways she didn't look like her mother.
Just this… beautiful completion that she cannot ever love, just desperation to make an identity for herself not based around her mother, growing up her Mother’s identical daughter, it… Used to be fun, but grew tiresome always hearing;
“oh, just an absolute copy of your mama, aren't you!” that one was from her old neighbor Marie. Maria was a housewife to a sailor and used to babysit her, so she didn't hold too much madness for the old woman for those types of comments.
“Look at your eyes, such pretty jewels, a shame the color doesn't match your Mother’s.” That was from a knight that she never got the name of.
“Aw, look at you! The perfect heir of Lady Lohefalter!” One of her mother's acquaintances who had only talked to Rosalyne's mother when she had lady problems and was fighting with her husband.
“What a pretty doll, aren't you? You should go into your Mother’s line of work!” one of her mother's coworkers, even though her mother didn't do a very important job in her opinion. Not that women had too many jobs back in these days she is forced to relive.
“Look at the newest heir of the Lohefalter bloodline, ain't she a beautiful girl? We should pair her with your son!” which she heard when walking through the town square. Two old ladies, she knew enough to know they were widowed, since they'd been talking like she was deaf, but she might as well have been since she never confronted it.
Rosalyne always stood quiet during those parts, affection that made her uncomfortable. She was just a pretty face to them, someone to take her mother's place or act as some kind of body double, sometimes she basked in it like the morning sunlight, sometimes it made her want to hide away until she could lock herself in a room like some stubborn child. No one truly saw her as her, just an accessory to her Mother. Until Rostam came along and made her world bright as the surface of the sun.
As she was sad before her vanity she pulled out a drawing that her darling, Rostam, had made her. How if her mother ever found out, oh how fast that drawing would be put in the fire. The drawing was of her with short hair, freckles, and a more warm complexion. Like her father. She very dearly wanted to look like her father, especially after he left the picture. Rosalyne understood why her mother didn't talk about him ever but it was really her mother's fault why all of it happened in the first place..
Rosalyne hid the photo once again, within her top drawer, below the sewing kit, before getting up, casting a glance at the window, her Father's oak tree stood tall and waiting, she smiled as she made her way out of her room. It was a symbol of how old their home was (but by now it's definitely been torn down to make use for something else). Her Father’s grand oak tree planted down in the dirt when the house plans started and still stood tall today.
Leaving her room, her maid was clearing the breakfast table where her Mother had likely had her meal. They exchanged soft waves to each other as Rosalyne walked down the stairs. I was promised she hadn't holed herself up in her room for more than about 8 minutes. Her delicate hand held up the side of the dress to avoid tripping, another holding the railing delicately. Her form was graceful and delicate as her Mother taught her to be. She truly is just a clone of her Mother, isn't she? No personality of her own, no look of her own, no one distinguished her from her mother to be anything but her mother's clone.
It didn't take long to get from the stairs, to the foyer, to the door to enter the family estates garden, and out she went. Steps delicate and careful as her dress was long and she wasn't too used to the heels she was expected to wear. She swore the hills she is expected to wear get longer every year. When she was in her early teens it was always kitten heels or 1 inch heels, then as soon as she hit 15 she was expected to wear two inch heels, then when she hit 17 it was two and a half inch heels which slowly grew into three inch heels, now it was four and a half inch heels, which would definitely turn it into five inch heels within a few months. With all those walking classes in-between too where she had to learn how to walk in heels, and do the stupid thing with the books on her head.
Rosalyne sat in her family’s garden, picking and choosing the most perfect red roses, heels discarded beside her. The ones she plucked were the ones that sang to her soul. It was peaceful in this garden, every plant here was put with purpose. No opposing winds, only gentle breezes lapping at her hair, drifting it off her shoulder, swooping her hair for her.
Oh how she loved this garden. Sitting under her Father’s Grand oak tree in Mondstadt City. Growing up here was tough love, a Father now away in war like her Rostam, but she worried less for her Father than for her Rostam, no matter what she promised her Mother.
“Lady Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter,” a familiar calm voice pierced the quest of the Lohefalter Family Estate. Rosalyne raised her head from where she weaved a flower crown of red roses. Her maid stood tall with an unusually happy grin, usually she wore a more saddened expression to match her Fair Lady.
“... My lovely maid, has news come in about my Knight?” Rosalyne asked with a quiet worry, though her maid’s gentle upturn lips brought a subtle hope she tried to keep from showing. ‘Hope is a disease when it comes to war’ her Mother had told her. She shalln’t hope she had promised her Mother.
“My lovely maiden, there has come news!” The maid’s dress swished delicately as she approached, handing her Fair Lady a letter with her address written in familiar handwriting. The Fair Lady’s heart nearly stopped. It was addressed to her from Rostam. Her Rostam.
“Rostam… oh, Rostam… How it's been forever since I was graced with a letter from him,” Rosalyne pulled the letter to her chest, tears welled in her eyes, painful pricks at her eyes, begging for release into the open warm air of a summer’s day. Oh how Rosalyne hoped it said her dearest is coming home.
Oh her heart hammered, mind replaying when her Rostam would hold her hand, guiding her through the gardens and speak her favorite poetry, occasionally pulling her into his arms, spinning her, kissing her cheek, making her blush. How they loved and held onto each other. When winter came, how he would wrap a blanket around her shoulders and warm her face with his chest, offer her tea and smile at every word she said. She took a deep breath, coming back to reality where she sat alone in the garden of her Father’s making.
Opening the letter, she hesitated… something felt wrong…
“My Fair Lady?” The maid gently spoke, making her look up.
“Oh, nothing, my darling maid, just a passing thought,” Rosalyne smiled up at her maid from her place on the bench, her stomach twisted when she looked at the letter. “Though… One request, it’s reasonable. My dearest maid, may I read this alone?” Signora asked her maid, her voice dropping to a sadder tone that her maid didn't catch.
“Oh! Of course my lady! My most well meaning apologies,” the maid bowed in panic, quickly leaving. That delicate swish now a frantic swoosh to leave. Her heels clacking against the garden’s stone path back up to the estate. Rosalyne watched her maid rush off. Such an easily panicked woman… Though, she can't blame her. She works around the Woman of the Estate, Rosalyne’s Mother… Signora gently sighed, looking up to the crystal clear sky as she closed her weary eyes.
Signora looked down at the note, her face fell. The letter heavy in her hands. “Oh, Rostam… Why do you do this to me?” Signora stood slowly, eyes on the letter, holding the letter delicately, her gentle walk near a float as she made her way to the bin. Her heels highlighted every step, usually Rosalyne loved the sound her heels made when they clicked, but it didn't mean much for Signora at the moment. Just made her feel more isolated and alone.
“My darling, how cruel, you’ll never come home to me. Fantasy doesn't compare to reality,” Signora’s hands tightened on the letter, creasing the sides of the envelope, Signora tossed the letter, watching it float down into the bin. “May your soul rest, but I cannot allow you near after what I've done…” Signora’s hands trembled as she looked down to her beautifully kept nails.
Signora blinked once and the place dissolved into flames, people from nowhere appeared behind her chanting “WITCH!” at the top of their lungs like a curse. She would face the music the same way in death as she did in life. Changing fate was possible, but she was more scared of change than she’d like to admit to herself.
Turning to the crowd of her peers, chanting against her survival. “Oh, Rostam…” Signora sighed as she made her way towards the chanters, hands holding each other at her chest. Her head tilted downwards “... Forgive my sins against your pure and devoted love, Rostam. Oh my devoted Rostam.”
Walking towards the chanters and flames, she walked away from Rostam and her chance at a happy ever after. Being with him after such sin? No, she couldn't. Her darling faded from her mind long ago. Now in death, he chased her like she chased him. She knew opening that letter would’ve made her happy ever after come true but she couldn't. She couldn't feel full like that, she became cruel. Rostam deserved a gentle love, like Rosalyne. Not her. In her head, she and Rosalyne were different, very different. Rosalyne stayed in that garden and held that letter. Signora was born after Rostam died, the cruel and vicious part of the once beautiful woman.
“Oh, my darling… You must move on like I have. I am not the kind and gentle love you once knew,” at this point she spoke mostly to herself as she walked the cracked path she wandered once before. Soon, the flames and crowd disappeared before her. Dissolving into the quiet silence Fatui Headquarters. Heels clicking against cold tile.
“... How much must I live through?” She lamented, slouching onto the table beside her. Watching how no one truly saw her. These were her memories, she knows how they all went, yet all slightly tailored more to how she wants to remember everything. Not how she truly remembers it.
The House of the Hearth kids came running to her, smiling and with gifts, making her genuinely smile, in reality, this was all fake. The kids just put on a show, but here… Oh, they truly loved her as Aunty Signora. Signora plucked the gifts from eager children swarming her, distracted from her negative emotions at receiving all these gifts.
Opening one after another, she just grew happy and content. Her ego sated from all the affection and love from the House of the Hearth children. She loved each piece. Ruby shoes, gemstones, colorful hair pieces, real gems and vintage clothes. Each gift grew Signora’s ego, oh these children truly know her, don't they? Oh, such well behaved children to her.
“You’re gorgeous, Auntie! So much like your father!”
“Open my gift next!”
“Aunty Signora! Here’s another!”
“Do you wanna try my baking, Auntie?”
“Oh, you children are just way too sweet~ Hopefully you cute lot don't turn into hard candies!” Signora chuckled with a happy smile, pinching one of the children’s cheeks and chuckling, the children laughed with her. Rosalyne’s smile turned gentle, gaze soft, is this how her children with Rostam would have been? Doting on her and around her like a little pack of puppies. “Oh, and of course, I'll adore whatever treat you have in store for me, little dove,” Signora patted the boy’s head who had offered her a box of baked goods.
These children adored her. Arlecchino’s smile was gentle as she supervised from the doorway, leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms. Signora made eye contact with Arlecchino, she smiled bigger which made Arlecchino offer her a nod. Oh, how sweet the Arlecchino in her head is. Speaking of her, where did Arlecchino’s children run off too? Usually they herd around her like well behaved sheep.
“And where have the adopted run too?” Signora asked, standing tall, graceful as ever as she took slow steps towards Arlecchino. Making Arlecchino straighten up and drop her soft smile.
“Lyney and Lynette are preparing for departure to Fontaine, they wish to be left alone to pack. Freminet is sick again, he won't be having visitors. If you wanted to see one, I'm sure Lyney wouldn't… Oppose,” Arlecchino spoke, her smile flattened into a line, crossing her arms across her chest. Arlecchino's eyes drifted to an empty corner, hands clenching around her upper arm.
“Busy bees, your children,” Signora’s hand drifted to her lips, chuckling softly behind it. Arlecchino's lips tightened but she nodded gently.