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The day has been saved for now, but still, Neuvillette cannot help but have a heavy heart as he leaves the Traveler behind. He makes his way back to the Opera House in a light rain that doesn’t so much touch him as it sinks into him, his clothing never even getting wet as he absorbs it and it whispers to him quietly. Up ahead, he can see Lady Furina, hurrying along to the Opera House as well. He can’t see her face, but her movements speak for themselves: that jittery gait as she skitters up the stairs, those shaking hands.
She’d been spying, he knows. To make sure the Knave really left. She may not have been in sight before, but her presence is like a waterfall – her energy is heard, even when it cannot be seen.
What has happened today has greatly unsettled her and he cannot blame her for this. The prophecy has been weighing her down lately, or so he thought. Now he’s not sure it was only that, even with the rising of the Primordial Sea. The entire situation with the Knave stunk of fear and Neuvillette—
There’s something wrong with his ward and he will get to the bottom of it.
Furina wasn’t meant for fear, for sadness. And though she might need to shape up as an Archon, he has always tried to give her time to grow. This is the nature of Egeria's legacy, of the new order between the hydro dragon and Archon — forever one dying before the other, raising the next generation with as much care as they can.
He had known long before Egeria died that he would likely be responsible for her successor, and it is not a duty that leaves him unmoved.
Neuvillette will not pretend he understands the mind of a teenage girl, let alone one as complex as Furina's, but he has always done his best by her and today will not be the exception to that.
There’s a trail of water in the foyer. His frown deepens. If she wasn’t even repelling the rain… She’s normally so fussy about the way she presents herself too. He sighs and snaps his fingers to clear it off the floor, shooing it towards a decorative vase against the wall. No need to bother the staff with it.
He nods to the Melusine guarding the entrance and follows the direction the trail went.
He finds her in the tea room, grey and uninviting now the clouds outside have darkened. None of the lights are on, despite the archon wearing a circle into the carpet with her pacing, and the cake is left once again untouched on the table.
Furina is absolutely drenched, her clothes wet and her hair plastered to her face.
She stops pacing abruptly when he turns the light on. Her face looks thunderous, even in the warm yellow glow of the lamps, and though she’s tucked her hands behind her back it can’t hide the tremble entirely.
"We need an emergency disaster plan," Furina snaps. "Now!"
Neuvillette blinks. "There is one in place, my lady. In truth, we utilized part of it today to evacuate the immediate vicinity of the prison. We will need to amend the evacuation plan to properly include the prisoners for future incidents, but I can retrieve our current protocol for you. "
Furina splutters, wiping wet locks away from her face. "Then why did I, the beloved Focalors, not know of this? You are in my employ to keep me informed!"
Neuvillette straightens his shoulders. "I am in your employ as your Iudex. I am the judge in your court, to uphold justice in this nation. Everything I do besides that, I do of my own volition and for your own good."
Furina takes a step back, her eyes wide. She switches gears quickly as always, though, crossing her arms and averting her eyes. He can almost hear her mind buzzing. "Still, I… This is important!"
Neuvillette nods gravely, watching as her coat drips water onto the carpet. He could easily get rid of it, but somehow he doesn’t think it would be appreciated right now. "It is. And I will speed up your education about state matters like these now it has become an immediate issue. You’ve been doing very well lately, forming your own opinions and starting to take your mantle up. But some things require instruction and explanation. I will provide this to you when there is time."
A few months ago, Furina had begged him to let her get a jellyfish haircut. Begging in a manner of speaking, that is; she had loudly declared it her right as the great Focalors to get a trim that looked like one of the many creatures she reigned over — and quickly took a peek at him after to make sure he wasn’t frowning before pretending the quick check for approval hadn’t happened at all.
It is now plastered against her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. She looks small, and lost, like a drenched kitten adrift in a big world she can’t quite make sense of.
She turns to anger again, generally her first response to not getting her way. A mask. One of the many. "Then teach me now!"
"Soon," Neuvillette says, leaning onto his cane. "But not today. I’d say we have other matters to discuss right now. What happened with the Knave?"
An inscrutable expression passes over her face, before she turns her face to the side again, huffing. "Nothing much. She insulted me, can you believe it? Said I didn’t care about my people as much as cake!" Her voice cracks. Everything about her screams don’t touch me, don’t come near me. Her arms are crossed so tightly that she might as well be hugging herself.
Abruptly, he feels about five centuries older. It weighs him down. "That isn’t true, as I am quite sure you’re aware. But that wasn’t what I was talking about. What did she do to you?"
Furina bristles, making herself as big as possible, which really isn’t very big at all, as small and slight as she is. "Like a Fatuus like her would manage to best me!"
"Lady Furina," Neuvillette says calmly, for all it is grave. "I am not calling your capabilities into question. As your foremost protector, all I am asking is for you to be honest with me."
"How dare you insinuate I, Focalors, would stoop so low as to lie!" But there are tears in her eyes, and they are not of frustration. His heart hurts.
The rain outside the window worsens.
Neuvillette doesn’t understand the minds of teenage girls. But even so, seeing her, standing here in the middle of the tea room, small and young and scared, he only knows one way to react to that.
And just like Egeria had reached out to him, so long ago, so too does he now reach out to Furina.
It’s just a hand, gingerly settling on her shoulder, but… it seems to be the drop that makes the bucket overflow. Furina bursts into tears and throws herself into his arms. His cane clatters onto the floor. She nearly slaps him in the face in the process, but he can’t bring himself to care, too busy gathering up the cold armful that is his archon and cradling her oh-so-carefully. She cries into his coat, great heaving sobs.
"You," he whispers, "have been carrying this alone for far too long. Have a little faith in me please, my Lady."
He raises his hand to her head, hesitating for only a moment before carding his fingers through her wet, bone-white hair in a soothing motion. This is his failure. Perhaps he’s been pushing her too hard, that it had been so hard for her to share this with him. How difficult it is, sometimes, to be both her only refuge and the only one who will expect more of her and tell her he does. Tell her the truth.
Show her what she needs to grow, instead of letting her slowly drown in an endless sea of adoring faces that cannot see her for who she truly is.
Young and lost. But also brilliant, a seed just starting to grow into something strong. Something beautiful.
It’s a balancing act he still hasn’t truly gotten the hang of, even after all these years.
Furina is still sobbing into his chest, and all he can do to comfort her is hold her, and very subtly dry her off by repelling the water so she’ll at least start to get warm again. It’s a good thing archons don’t get colds. Her only reaction to the absence of the water on her person is to hold him even tighter.
By now she’s talking while crying so hard it’s almost hard to understand her. "How dare she… she… plunge her hand into my chest!"
His blood runs cold.
Furina doesn’t even notice him stiffening. "It hurt, Neuvi! It hurt! I… I just wanted to play with the cat!"
Her sense of safety violated. Her body violated.
Lightning flashes across the sky outside, in the deluge.
He’d heard of the Fatui hunting the gnoses, but this is something he cannot forgive. He cradles her tighter against his chest until she’s basically sitting on his arm, patting her hair softly as she buries her nose into his neck. Her tears soak his shoulder.
"I know," he whispers. "You just wanted to play."
What do you do, when your child comes to you, their world shattered?
What should he do, when the Knave has torn something irreplaceable from Furina, something far more priceless than her gnosis could ever be?
He shudders, anger, fear and sorrow mixing in his chest like salt and sweet water, becoming a brackish mix that makes nobody happy. He wants to take her away, under the waves and into the blessed depths, or, now that too has become unsafe, into his office and its endless tones of soothing blue. It’s one of the most well-guarded locations in Fontaine, but most importantly: it is his.
Just like Furina. His responsibility. His treasure.
He never quite understood how children change you until he had to guard her, just a newborn, from all the monsters lying in wait to usurp her power. All children need to be guarded jealously, but archons especially so, and Neuvillette just so happens to be a dragon.
But he has spent too long repressing those instincts, knowing they often do not fit into the society he now lives in. But then again, baying for blood and praying for justice, that's how this country has always been.
He doesn’t know what to do, so he falls back on his second instinct, ingrained after so many years.
He will have to have a talk with the Knave. One Father to another, so to speak.
After all, to harm Focalors is one of Fontaine's gravest crimes, and by Furina, he will have her justice.