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“Order… Order I say!”
Neuvillette’s cane lands hard on the floor of the Opera Epiclese, ringing out with a resounding crack. But the crowd does not quiet - there is, it would seem, no order. He tries again. With a white-knuckled grip, he raises the cane once more as tendrils of blue gather around the tips of his fingers. The sound is like a gunshot. “ORDER.” The Iudex insists, voice stern and angered, quite unbefitting of his usual demeanor, yet even so, his words fall on deaf ears. His patience is running thin. The crowd is out of control: the usual murmuring of gossip has escalated to unbridled outrage, cries of shock and perplexion arising from the audience as they find that they seemingly cannot come to terms with the information they are hearing. The Iudex's shoulders stiffen as he catches Furina’s gaze from across the courtroom. Her lips are twisted into a knowing smile as she sits atop the prosecution’s desk with that same smug air she always carries when she knows she has got her way. It is, he notes to himself with a sigh, like dealing with a child. With any attempt of salvaging the situation abandoned, he speaks once more, more out of ceremony than of any hope of re-restablishing his authority. “The court is adjourned.” He vacates his seat, taking his leave as the crowd slowly begins to filter through the doors, showing no sign of calming.
At last, silence finally descends on the opera house, and as the doors shut with almost symbolic finality, Lyney finds himself ever so close to vomiting.
*
Lyney feels the world close in around him as Furina’s words echo through his mind; ‘And you are a member of the House of the Hearth, are you not?’. Spoken with a conviction and eloquence that only someone such as the Hydro Archon could muster, it's as good as a sentence from the Iudex himself as far as the audience are concerned. But this is not what worries the magician. No, he is no stranger to crime (though this one he truly did not commit) and a stay at the Fortress of Meropide does not faze him, or so he tells himself. No, it is not the imminent threat of imprisonment that causes his world to spin even as he clutches at the cold metal of the railing for support, even as he tries in futility to steady his shaking breaths. What truly scares him is the man behind him. He can feel the eyes of the Traveller set on him even as he tries to pull himself together. He can imagine the look on their face as they try to read him, sorrowful eyes pleading, begging that the words hold no truth, that there is some crucial detail missing, seeking a closure that Lyney knows he cannot give. He can imagine their face begin to darken as they realize that there is no trick, no hidden ploy, no ace up his sleeve that can refute the charges laid out before him - the evidence presented has been nothing but the truth. And even as his eyes begin to wet, despite willing with all his might that he must hold himself together for just one more moment, he can imagine ever so vividly, Aether, his savior, his one hope to avoid imprisonment, and his sole chance at a new life, turning around and leaving him.
The silence is too much to bear. The magician steels himself, not out of some excess of willpower, but out of necessity - for this means more to him that any onlooker could know. With one more agonizing breath, he turns around, and he is a showman once more, burying the pain that rips and claws at his heart deep beneath his act.
He was right to be scared. Aether stands before him, the two of them separated by a distance that pulls at the magician’s chest. They look confused, almost fearful as they search his face for answers, and Lyney almost falters at the sight. He can’t bear to see them like this.
“I apologise. I should’ve tol-”
He is cut off.
“You should’ve.” Their words are cold. The ensuing silence is agony. Lyney strides forwards, desperate to close the distance between them as he reaches out for their shoulder. He freezes halfway there as he realises that his hand is not welcome there anymore.
“A-Aether I…” The Traveller flinches at their own name. Lyney feels sick. “I didn’t know how to tell you, I know you’ve had dealings with the Fatui before, but I promise you, The House is different. We work by our own rules, we’re a family - Aether they saved me, you must understa-” His voice catches as he sees their fist begin to clench. “I promise, I’ll make it right to you. No more secrets from now on.” He tries to steady his voice. It does not work. Aether only stares, eyes half-glazed over as they expose a feeling the magician knows all too well; betrayal. Their face is etched with something far worse than disappointment and Lyney now knows exactly what Aether thinks of him. He’s sure Aether knows this - they can see it in the way the magician begins to break before their very eyes.
He had never meant to deceive. Ever since his time with Cesar, the magician swore never to lie about his family again. Concealing it had only ever created more pain - those who took pity on orphans such as himself, even those select few who learned to trust a trickster by trade became wary after they discovered where his allegiances lay. He was nothing more than a common thief in their eyes, and after a while, he found himself almost accustomed to the label. But this is different. To find himself standing before Aether, the man who has done so much for him, for his sister, without reservation and without question from the very moment the three had found each other in the harbor that day. To know that very same person who once entrusted their deepest secrets to him, who cared for him in a way The House never could, who needed help in their darkest moment and had no place to go, so came to him. To know they see him now as nothing but a liar; words don’t express Lyney’s pain. He wants to scream. He wants to run up to them, he wants to grab them by the shoulders and explain everything, try and make them see that that’s not who he is, that his family is beautiful and trusting and loving and nothing like the sickening Fatui schemes he knows Aether now thinks of. He needs to show them that it has nothing to do with those twisted politics, just a desire to protect those in need, as it had done for him, for Lynette, for Freminet. And he needs, above all else, some kind of sign that they still trust him. As the scene drags on he realizes it will not come.
Even as his heart yearns to right this wrong, he knows the Traveller has every right to be cautious - he can only imagine what they have faced in their time. And while Lyney knows precious little of Fatui politics, he knows enough to say that those in charge are not good people. He could not blame anyone for casting doubt upon someone such as Father, Archons, he even has his own reservations about her from time to time. But that does not change his situation and as this agonizing silence pulls them further apart, the truth of the matter comes to a screeching, sputtering halt before him - there is nothing he can do. He watches as the expression on Aether’s face morphs from confusion to anger to something Lyney can’t read. But he knows he’s watching all they had disappear before his very eyes - just like magic.
Right on cue, Aether walks towards the door, and Lyney does not move to stop them.
*
The night air is cold against his skin as he steps out the side door of the opera house. Even from here, Lyney can make out the sounds of the commotion out front as the crowds, now displaced from their seats, spill out into the night air. The pain that stabbed at his chest has lulled into a dull ache, and he has managed to get his shaking under control, at least for the time being. That, he is grateful for. His coat tails flap gently in the breeze as he overlooks the vast expanse of ocean that lays before him, offering the perfect backing for the main attraction that occupies his vision - the entrance to the Fortress of Meropide. How apt, he thinks to himself, as he takes up position by the railing. His arm offers a barrier between his wetted cheek and the frigid marble beneath. Silhouetted against the starry skyline, his world all at odds, he tries to find his peace. A single Garde lingers behind him, far too unnerved by the magician’s presence to offer any threat in event of an escape attempt, but fortunately for her, Lyney has made no plans in that department. In fact, he finds himself utterly bereft of any sort of thought as he takes in a lungful of icy air, closing his eyes and focusing for a second before letting it out in a long, weary sigh. His melodrama does nothing to quell the worry that eats at him.
He is aware of his sister before she makes herself known - she expects no less of him. She had been present in the courtroom earlier of course - as his sole accomplice in this crime - but had left swiftly and silently before his fateful encounter with Aether. He presumes she’s talked to him, and by the fact that she has remained silent, he knows for certain that negotiations did not go well. “What news, dear sister?” His imitation falls flat.
“The Traveller isn’t happy with us,” She appears from around a corner. The Garde tightens her grip on her spear as Lynette walks up to her brother, coming to rest a few feet short of the railing and folding her arms. The siblings ignore her. “I told him we’re sorry.”
“And?” Lyney enquires, though he knows the answer - his sister’s silence only serves to confirm it. They both knew they would struggle with this when they first met him in the harbor. They had always planned to tell him, but the opportunity had never presented itself, and the time had gone so quickly. Why did it have to surface now? To think it has been almost a month since that fateful meeting… Lyney idly wraps a finger in his hair and tries not to dwell on the current state of events as he reminisces.
In the weeks leading up to their meeting, Father had the whole family working overtime in preparation for the coming of the prophecy - unsurprisingly, most of Fontaine was (and still is) up in arms about the whole affair. He remembers the stern talk Father gave them about the importance of collaboration and loyalty in times such as these - she wanted them doing everything they could to help those in need, just as the House had done for them. And so, it followed that when a catastrophic flood struck the Romaritime Harbor, the twins were dispatched immediately. They travelled with all possible haste and arrived just as the last flecks of green were submerged beneath the monotonous blue of the Fontanian sea.
They had played in those hills as children, before the House had taken them in, before their days on the city streets; before their parents had passed. Lyney takes a deep breath - he does not want to break down again, not now and certainly not in front of his sister. But suffice to say, the memories of that life were tied to those fields - it was the last time either of them could remember being truly free. Being truly happy.
They sat by each other, overlooking the ocean. They did not talk - they were both thinking the same thing, mourning the same loss. What once was, what might still be had they not been victims of fate was gone, as the last reminder of the life they once shared was claimed by the waters. Noon turned to afternoon, afternoon to dusk, and still the siblings kept watch over each other, grieving quietly in each other’s comfort. Lyney rested his head on his sister’s lap, her fingers smoothing his mess of hair with idle affection, while his own hands clung loosely around Lynette’s. That day was when they first met the Traveller.
Even now as he sits and contemplates the prospect of lifelong imprisonment, Lyney still wishes he could’ve made a better first impression. It was Lynette that spoke as the blond-haired figure sat down beside them. It was she who told them of the home the two once had in those fields. It was only a few words, characteristic of his sister, and only just enough to sate the curiosity of this strange passer-by, but hearing those words from his sister’s mouth is what finally broke him. He remembers how the Traveller stayed with them, even as he began to cry into his sister’s arms.
He turns now to look at her, face silhouetted against the warm lamplight that filters through the door behind her. Her expression is neutral, but he can tell by the way she's holding herself that she’s nervous. He takes comfort in her presence alone, and knows she does the same - they both fear what is to come, but they are together. Yet even as the two of them stand and face their judgement as a pair, just as they have always promised, Lyney knows that there is more to this than the two of them. That thought alone feels like a betrayal of everything he has ever believed. He looks to his sister. He wonders if she knows.