Chapter Text
“The Elton Trench?”
“Yes!” Charlotte stabs at the weathered, heavily inked map, hat barely atop her frazzled hair as her eyes burn straight through Lumine. “It’s the only place I could think of. The Elton Trench is infamous for the number of dead bodies tossed in there by the underground! It’d only make sense they’d throw the papers away with the victim, it’d be like killing two birds with one stone!”
Lumine blinks, eyeing the illegible scribbles overtaking the other half of the map. It matches the dozens of other papers pinned to the wall by thumbtacks, crossed over with a rainbow of strings probably stolen straight from Chioriya Boutique. “I don’t know, Charlotte. If it was that important, wouldn’t it make better sense to burn it?”
Charlotte lets out a mischievous giggle that sounds even less stable when she pours her coffee over a stack of sugar cubes. “Ohoho, you’d think so, but considering how rare it was for anything to produce smoke in Fontaine that isn’t the smithy, it was usually safer for people to throw things into the water and hope the animals take them.”
Her confidence is unwavering. It only makes Paimon, hovering nervously behind the traveler, ask, “And…you think a box of papers lasted for four hundred years in salt water?”
“Of course! Everything’s definitely been waterproofed.”
“Because…”
“Because-” Charlotte pauses - not to breathe, but to knock back the coffee. In the same breath, she swallows and gasps, “-the waterproofing methods we use at the Steambird are the exact same methods we’ve been using since before the Cataclysm.” She flaps a hand and reaches for the near-empty coffee pot. “And there’s no way that formula would give up on us now. It’s gotta be there, I just know it.”
She moves to bring the pot directly to her mouth. Lumine grabs her wrist and gently slips the handle from her grip.
“Okay, okay, let’s not do that.” She sets the pot aside and pats Charlotte’s still-curled fingers. “ You need to get some sleep. I’ll go look for the…” She leans over to read the bold red letters on the map. “The mysterious Elton Files. How long have you been awake, exactly?”
“I…stopped counting after the fifth pot.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor first, then get some rest.”
Lumine ends up bringing Charlotte to a doctor herself. Once she is fully tucked away and asleep (after a helpful dose of melatonin), Euphrasie lets out a heavy sigh. “Thank you, Traveler,” she says, handing over the promised bag of Mora. “I was this close to calling the Gardes just to get her out of the room.”
“Oh, it was no big deal,” Paimon says with a cheery wave. “If anything, Paimon’s surprised Charlotte didn’t try swimming in the Elton Trench herself.”
“That’s because you need specific licenses to dive, much less scavenge, around the Elton Trench, and she’s still waiting on the paperwork to renew hers.” Euphrasie’s jaw tightens as she shakes her head. “Plus, she hasn’t had the best luck when it comes to diving for a scoop.”
Lumine’s honed instinct almost tempt her to ask, but she knows better than to pry on something so personal. Instead, she pulls out the map that Charlotte refused to let go of until the medication kicked in. Though much of it has been crossed out, a circle surrounds the northern half of Elton Trench, along with multiple arrows to emphasize her point. “What’s so important about the Elton Files in the first place?”
“Hm…how much do you know about Fontaine’s history?”
Lumine recalls the hours she’d spent trapped in Annapausis, the time spent in Merusea Village, and the days exploring the lost world of Remuria with Osse. “Not much.”
Euphrasie’s lips twitch. “Then I’ll keep it brief. The Steambird has been in operation for centuries, and we once had a journalist that descended from some important figures in Fontaine’s history. Some of it was lost, some destroyed, but a sizable amount had been, allegedly, preserved and thrown into the water to hide a big secret.”
“A big secret?” Paimon echoes. “What kind?”
“One involving Lady Furina’s one true weakness,” Euphrasie whispers before chuckling. “It’s not really that important, considering everything that has happened, and I bet Charlotte was hunting down the other rumor that spread from the missing files.”
“That being…”
“That it involves the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide.”
“Yeah, that sounds like something she’d want to find.” Paimon shakes her head before turning to Lumine. “Still, that does sound kind of tempting, right?”
Lumine makes a face as she eyes the map. The circle takes up much of Salacia Plain. In fact, the center of the circle is the open mouth of Elynas, where the current flows away from inner levels of Merusea Village. “It does,” she admits, folding the map up. “Do you think Charlotte would be mad if we went investigating without her?”
“I think she would forgive you if you brought back those files.”
“...and if I don’t?”
“Then this conversation never happened.”
With that, Euphrasie bids the duo farewell, heading back to the Steambird while Lumine and Paimon head for the lift.
“Elton…” Paimon says as they head up. “Wasn’t that the last name of the lady that fought against Elynas?”
“Admiral Basil Elton,” Lumine recalls with a nod. “She was the one that Ahes liked to learn about, remember?”
“Oh, right, the captain of the Sponsian!” The doors part, allowing the pair to step out onto the harbor. “If that’s the case, though…why would there be rumors about Wriothesley attached to it? Or Furina’s ‘weakness’...whatever that means.”
“We won’t know until we go check.” Lumine waves to Aeval before climbing onto the path next to the boat. “Ready?”
Paimon nods and grips the traveler’s shoulders. “Ready!”
The waters of Fontaine still surprise Lumine whenever she enters. The waves cushion her plunge, the sting just enough to hurt before fading with her exhale. Its currents carry her wherever she wishes, and if she stilled for long enough, she could almost hear the gentle song of all who have come before her in the tides. As sunlight ripples through the surface, Lumine can only think of Freminet and agree. If she had a choice, she would stay under until she was covered in Lumitoile.
But for now, Lumine eyes the waterproofed map, then kicks towards the fossilized maw of Elynas. The last time she had swum under its teeth, it’d been to escape the jet that had expelled her from the tunnels of A Lonely Place. Even now, she has to put more effort into her kicks.
“Uh, is it just Paimon,” the fairy says over Lumine’s shoulder, “but does the mouth look kind of…dirty?”
Lumine squints, watching as random books and broken wood come floating out of the tunnels. Before she can respond, a new figure follows: a Melusine with bobbed hair and pink fur, weighed down by a giant crate in her paws. When she is far enough, she allows the crate to sink to the sand, kicking up a giant cloud in its wake.
“Canotila?” Lumine calls.
Canotila freezes mid-clap, head swiveling before tilting. “Traveler? Paimon?” The Melusine, thankfully, swims to them first. “Did Sedile ask you to help clean up, too?”
“Clean up?” Paimon leans over to eye all the floating detritus casually drifting out of Elynas’ mouth. “Is…that what you’re doing?”
Canotila nods, a hint of defeat in her eyes as her feelers droop. “Sedile caught Laume and I digging through the archives and saw how messy it was. She said we should spring clean, like how the humans in Fontaine do, then told me to discard the belongings I no longer use…”
Lumine blinks, then bristles. “But not the Book of Esoteric Revelations, right?”
“Of course not,” Canotila says quickly. “Even I understand the pains you have gone through to collect its pages. If it were possible, I would have the book tethered to me at all times, like Paimon is to you.”
Relief escapes the traveler in bubbles while Paimon soothes her hair. “How come you guys were digging through the archives, though? Is Laume looking for something?”
Somehow, Canotila manages to wilt even further. “Laume heard that a journalist from the Steambird was looking for something and swore we had something like that. She began to pull everything from its shelves, then it began to pile up, and then…well, you heard the rest.”
A journalist from the Steambird? Lumine shares a knowing glance with Paimon, the small fairy perking up. “That journalist…it wouldn’t happen to be Charlotte, would it?”
Canotila finally straightens. “Are you looking for it, too?”
Lumine ends up surfacing, entering the village through the southern point. When she reaches A Very Warm Place, she just barely spots the pink horns of Laume working through the piles of books.
“Laume,” Canotila calls, yawning. “I brought help.”
“Huh?” Laume stands, then bounces to peek over the stacks. “Oh! Traveler, Paimon, welcome back. You’re gonna help clean up?”
“Actually,” Paimon says, “we might be looking for the same thing you are!”
After a quick rundown, Laume hums, tapping her paw against her face in concentration. “Hm…that does sound pretty similar. We’ve called it the Records of Fidelty, since it glows pink and fuzzy.”
“Uh, that might just be a Melusine thing,” Paimon says.
“Agreed,” Canotila chimes in. “To me, it looked black and white, and it always seemed sad.”
“Still, we labeled it as such, so if you find a box called Records of Fidelity, that’s it!”
And with that, Lumine and Paimon get to work. Much of it is…just regular books, random supplies and nonsensical belongings that Lumine sets in the discard pile. At some point, Sedile pops in to check on the progress, then balks when she learns Canotila convinced her to help clean.
“That’s not how you should treat guests!” she scolds before offering Lumine and Paimon some snacks.
They are quick to refuse.
But finally, two hours later, Lumine finds a box encrusted in barnacles and salt that almost cuts her hand when she tries to pull it out. She flinches and glares at the box, then tenses. “I found it!”
Canotila and Sedile sandwich her legs while Paimon lands on her head, all three crowding close as Lumine sits back. Barnacles seemed to have sealed the lid shut, half-obscuring the label one of the Melusines must have stuck on there centuries ago. It takes some careful pressure from the traveler’s true strength to crack the lid off, and with a few firm shakes, the box drops with a harsh thud.
“Woah…” Paimon gasps as Sedine sticks her paws inside.
“Hah, I knew it!” she cheers. “They’re all still perfectly fresh. I knew this was it!”
Sedine is right. Within sits a pile of documents, each freshly preserved as if they’d pulled it from the shelves of the actual archives in the Court and not the corner of a damp cave. Its top-most page makes Lumine’s stomach curl: a newspaper clipping celebrating the election of Basil Elton as the Narzissenkreuz Institute newest Director, dated over 500 years ago.
She pinches the corner of the newspaper clipping, the waxy sealant shielding it from her skin’s oil. None of it seems of interest, more eye-catching due to the information she’d unearthed while dealing with Jakob Ingold and the Narzissenkreuz Ordo than anything. She can place faces to the name well enough: the matching twins Alain and Mary-Ann, the cold stare of René. She knew they were all orphans once, living together under one roof, and yet reading the recipes that note who likes what flavor of cookie still surprises her. To think Jakob, who nearly revived the very beast they’re living in, hated strawberries feels…wrong. Too humanizing. A far cry from the monsters they all became.
Just as Lumine opens a book labeled Odyssey , a photo slips free. Paimon catches it for her, then gasps. “Wait, this is…”
“Hm?” Canotila leans over to look, feelers wibbling. “Oh, look at that. It’s Sister.”
“Sister?” Laume gasps. “It is! Oh, they’re so small!”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Paimon says just as Lumine grabs the photo. She expects to see a Melusine, but just as she remembers that the Melusines couldn’t have been born around the time of Basil Elton’s death, she finds herself staring at a photo of a younger version of…”Wriothesley?”
It certainly looks like it, at least. Black and grey-streaked hair, mischievous little smile on a face still soft with baby fat. Even stranger, the child wears an older uniform reminiscent of the Maison Gardiennage, holding a broadsword in one hand. But there is no denying it when she flips it over. Written on the back reads Wriothesley - our valiant knight!
“That…can’t be right,” Lumine mutters to herself. She knows Wriothesley’s origins are a bit of a mystery (as is the case with every orphan she’s met in Fontaine), but there’s no way he’s over 500 years old, right? “Why are you calling him ‘sister’?”
“Because Wriothesley’s our sister!” Laume says as if that is enough of an explanation. “Erm…was?”
“Is,” Canotila corrects with a nod. “They’re still Wriothesley, therefore, is. ”
“But can it still be you if you have to leave and come back?”
“Well, steam and rain are still water, aren’t they?”
“Um…” Paimon cradles her head and looks helplessly at Lumine. “Paimon is lost…”
Lumine runs her thumb against the picture and sighs. “You’re not the only one.”
She tucks the picture away for later and returns to the box. The only other object of interest is a wax-sealed bottle. Its contents appear to be some kind of letter, and when Lumine holds it up, both Melusines recoil as if flashed with light.
“It’s still so bright after all this time…” Laume gasps with awe.
“What is it?”
“A letter, I think,” Canotila says. “We never opened it, but my guess is that it’s a goodbye letter. A lot of people throw them in the water all the time.”
Lumine frowns and eyes the letter. A wax stamp seals the letter within: six flower petals. “A daffodil?”
“Mm. Narzissens,” Canotila says with a nod. “I remember reading about them before.”
Lumine almost crushes the bottle then. So, a strange photo of Wriothesley that the Melusines insist are their sister and a sealed bottle with a letter, stamped with the symbol of the Narzissenkreuz Ordo. “Do…you have any idea who this box belonged to originally?”
“Mm…I think there’s a paper in there?” Laume stretches over the edge of the box, pushing aside recipe books and old records to retrieve another letter. “Right here! Addressed to Lady Furina.”
“Oh, goddammit-” Lumine groans as Laume reads the letter aloud, its writer thanking the Archon for showing interest in preserving the legacy of Basil Elton and the Narzissenkreuz Institute.
“It’s kinda ironic that we’d find that box inside of Elynas now,” Paimon says as the traveler massages her head.
“This was supposed to be simple,” Lumine groans back.
Canotila pats her thigh in some attempt at comfort. “I’m not sure about the rest of it, but if you want to ask about Sister, you could talk to Sigewinne. She was the last one to see them before they had to leave.”
“Or ask Sister directly,” Laume chimes in. “Though, I don’t think he remembers us anymore.”
Lumine sighs and tucks the bottle and letter into her inventory next to the photo. “Yeah. Do you think you two could bring that to the Steambird for me? We got some investigating to do.”
After the pair agree and disappear down the tunnels, Lumine snags Paimon’s wrist and reaches for the waypoint inside the Fortress of Meropide. She’s been reprimanded a handful of times for showing up in the prison unannounced, but it was better to chase the trail before she got swept up in another request. The guards don’t seem bothered, at least. One even warns her that Wriothesley is in a meeting when she strolls by.
“How about Sigewinne?” she asks.
“Where she always is.”
Sigewinne perks up when Lumine enters the clinic, eyes sparkling. “Traveler, Paimon!” she greets. “I didn’t know you were visiting! How have you been?”
“We’ve been good, Sigewinne!” Paimon says as Lumine eyes the clinic. All of the cots are empty, but the nurse’s desk overflows with equipment she doubts she’d ever figure out how to use. “You seem busy. Is this a bad time?”
“Oh, no, no. I’m just reorganizing.” Sigewinne waves a hand at the supplies before hopping off her stool with a smile. “What can I help you two with? Do you need a checkup?”
“No, more like your opinion with something we found.” Lumine flicks her hand, a perfect imitation of Lyney’s flourish as the photo slips between her fingers. “Does this look like His Grace?”
Sigewinne blinks as she takes in the photo, then gasps so hard the little wings on her back flutters. “It does!”
Lumine frowns. “Okay, better question: is this Wriothesley?”
And to the traveler’s confusion, Sigewinne giggles and shakes her head. “That’s a tricky question…I guess the answer is, at that time, yes?”
Lumine and Paimon share a glance before the fairy cocks her head. “What does that mean?”
“That’s Wriothesley before he became my sister,” Sigewinne says with a confident nod. She gestures to bring the photo closer, smiling wide. “I didn’t think any photos of them survived after they passed…they look so cute! Look, their hair is different, too! Oh, they were so sad when they realized it changed after they woke up. Where did you find this?”
Paimon manages to summarize their past few hours for her. When she finishes, Sigewinne nods slowly and tugs her chair towards one of the cots. “It’s a lot to explain. You might be better off sitting.”
They take her advice, and once everyone is settled (without the suspiciously red snacks that she insists help with digestion), the Melusine smiles down at the photo.
“This is…Wriothesley,” she starts after a moment. “Wriothesley…Ingold, I think was their name. When Monsieur Neuvillette offered to bring us to Fontaine, they decided to change it to something else. They said it was because their unique hair made them… them, and without it, they weren’t the same. But I know their odd coloration was from an experiment they did with their brothers, so…” Her smile fades. “I think they just wanted to get rid of whoever Wriothesley Ingold used to be.”
“Brothers?” Lumine echoes. “Like…Jakob Ingold?”
“From the Narzissenkreuz Ordo, yes.”
Paimon gasps, hands over her mouth. “But…we met Jakob. He never mentioned a Wriothesley…”
“Well, if it was recent, then Jakob probably didn’t feel the need to. They were already dead.”
“ Dead?! ”
“Mhm!” Sigewinne nods with far too much enthusiasm for the topic. “It was pretty famous for a while. A lot of people tried to write operas about it, but Monsieur Neuvillette banned the topic from ever being published. He said it was too controversial and would upset the reputation that we Melusines worked to build.”
Sounds like him. Lumine frowns, massaging her forehead. “But why do you call him sister? The others say the same thing.”
“Ah, that one’s easier.” Sigewinne offers the photo to Lumine, smiling. “Apparently, they were in a fight in Elynas and got really hurt. Whatever created us also saved them from their injuries. To us, that made them our sister. Monsieur Neuvillette thought so, too, but he never looked at them the same way he looked at us.”
Probably because they were human… Lumine shook her head quickly. “What happened after that?”
“They…” Sigewinne’s feelers wibble once more, her smile falling. “A lot of stuff happened, and…at the very end, before they died, they asked me to help protect Lady Furina. I had a feeling something was going to happen, but they promised to come back, and they never break a promise.”
The clinic falls quiet, Lumine barely noticing over her own thoughts stirring. She’d seen Furina’s own memories during her trial. Not once did she see or hear any mention of this stranger. Had it been buried so deeply in the actress that she no longer remembered? Clearly, she had to have known something based on the letter from Elton’s descendant in the box.
Before Lumine could ask, heavy footsteps echo from the entrance to the clinic. “Hey, Sigewinne,” Wriothesley’s voice calls, his hulking frame appearing not a second later, “did the Traveler stop by-Ah. There they are. I hope I didn’t keep you two waiting.”
“H-Hello, Your Grace,” Paimon squeaks. “We were only stopping by just for a few minutes to ask a question. Right, Traveler?”
Lumine doesn’t have the chance to respond, words stuck to her tongue. Seeing the Duke in person only reaffirms the identity of the subject in the photo. Sigewinne happily waving the photo at him does not help.
“They found a photo of you when you were a baby!” she says with glee.
Wriothesley hesitates before the last step, face scrunching in confusion. “A baby photo of me?” he echoes. He takes the photo from the nurse once he joins the group, and to Lumine’s surprise, he just laughs breathlessly. “Ah, you mean old me.”
“Woah, woah, wait.” Paimon holds up her hands. “What do you mean by that? Did you already know about…all of that?”
“Sort of.” Wriothesley shrugs, a wry smile on his face as he hands the photo back to Lumine. “Miss Sigewinne used to tell me this fairy tale all the time to make me feel better when I told her that Lady Furina walked out in the middle of my trial.”
Lumine accepts the photo, gently rubbing her thumb over the other Wriothesley’s face. “But…you don’t believe it?”
“I don’t see how,” Sigewinne tuts. “All the other Melusines said the same thing, remember? And you have the exact same hair!”
“Yes, and you also like to teach them how to gamble,” he counters before running a hand through his hair. It does little to smooth down the prominent spikes. “Also the grey streaks are from all the stress you guys put me under.”
The Melusine gasps, wings fluttering as she pinches the Duke. Considering her height, she can only reach his leg, but he still flinches like she got his cheek. “Well, I’m being entirely truthful, so that’s on you for not believing me.”
Lumine watches the exchange quietly. After everything she had learned about the Fontainians, the idea that one could be reborn doesn’t surprise her as much as it should. There isn’t much of a reason for the Melusines to lie, either. In fact, they’re some of the more trustworthy people here.
They promised to come back.
Wriothesley’s too preoccupied with bickering with Sigewinne to notice the pained expression on the traveler’s face. By the time he looks her way, she’s on her feet and smiling. “Heading out?”
“Yep.” Lumine stretches her arms overhead. “We still have some things to look at.”
“Aw, okay.” Sigewinne hops off the stool to bow to the pair. “If you guys have any questions, though, don’t be afraid to ask!”
The sunlight burns once Lumine lands in the Court of Fontaine, her eyes watering as her pupils shrink. Paimon lets out a groan and shields her head.
“Paimon’s so lost…” she whines, burying her face into Lumine’s hair. “How could we miss hearing about someone so important this whole time?”
Lumine shakes her head. “Considering what Sigewinne said about Neuvillette, it sounds like a lot of different people were working to keep it a secret.”
“But they don’t sound like a bad person,” Paimon says. “Sigewinne even said they worked to protect Furina, and if it’s true that they and Wriothesley are the same person…”
Lumine almost wants to remind Paimon that Wriothesley was once an inmate of the Fortress of Meropide himself. The concept of good and bad is subjective. She’s sure that, in the hours before his trial, everyone thought the young boy that murdered his foster parents was some unhinged psychopath biting the hand that fed him.
Still, Paimon is too young for that, and Lumine still has the bottle and letter in her pocket, so she shakes her head and says, “Let’s just find Furina.”
It takes no time at all. They’d started their little search early in the morning. Furina never rises before noon. When they pound on her apartment door, the former Archon’s hair sticks anywhere but down, still dressed in a wrinkled nightgown that drags on the floor.
“Huh? Traveler?” Furina clears her throat and stiffens up, somehow radiating a sense of poise despite her appearance. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Calm down, I’m not here for anything official,” Lumine says while Paimon waves.
“Yeah, we know you’re still waking up.” She pats the traveler’s shoulder. “We even brought you breakfast!”
Furina blinks, then deflates ever so slightly. “A-Ah, what did you…”
“An affogato with extra ice cream and La Lettre a Focalors, ” Lumine recites from memory. “Freshly made as of…ten minutes ago.”
“I-I see…” Furina flushes, but she shoos the traveler from her door. “You interrupted my routine. I still need to get ready. Meet me at Café Lutece in ten minutes!”
Furina arrives in nine. Lumine allows the pleasantries to roll, idle conversation flowing between herself, Furina, and Paimon. The ex-Archon talks of a new play. The travelers regale their latest adventure after returning to Mondstadt for a bit.
“What brings you back to Fontaine, then?” Furina asks.
“Ah, well…” Paimon waits for Lumine’s nod of approval before saying, “we were here to help Charlotte look for something, and then one thing led to another…”
“As it always does with you,” Furina sighs with a hint of amusement. “What were you looking for? I may no longer be the Archon, but Sedene always prioritizes my requests whenever I need to research something for a film.”
Paimon freezes this time, waving at Lumine to speak. The traveler clears her throat and sits up. “Actually, that’s why we wanted to talk to you. It was about something called the… Elton Files .”
Furina barely flinches, befitting of a veteran actress, but from the way she sets down her spoon belies her inattention. “The Elton Files? It certainly sounds like something worth investigating.”
“It does, indeed.” Lumine slips her hand in her pocket, just slow enough for the actress to track her movement. “Which is why I wanted to ask why your name was mentioned as the one who requested the files in the first place.”
She sets the sealed bottle and letter on the table and waits. To her credit, Furina only stills for a breath before chuckling.
“I see. Wrapping me in another conspiracy, hm?”
“Just out of curiosity.” Lumine waves a hand lazily. “We already heard everything about Wriothesley Ingold from Sigewinne.”
And that gets Furina to sit up, eyes widening. “Y-You did?” Her mouth falters, but the second passes, and she leans back into her seat with a huff. “What does it matter? Of course my name would be on those forms. What kind of leader would I have been if I didn’t try to learn about my enemy?”
Lumine and Paimon share a glance as the fairy repeats, “Enemy?”
“Surely, you’ve heard of the Narzissenkreuz Ordo?” Furina asks, waving a hand. “They tried to assassinate me in the middle of a play.”
Enemy? Assassinate? The words swirl in Lumine’s mind, clashing against the Melusines’ soft smiles and kind words. That doesn’t sound right. “Sigewinne told me they died protecting you.”
“They died because I killed them.” It sounds harsh and bitter, but there isn’t the kind of pride that comes from someone that bested their attacker.
Lumine tilts her head, unfazed. “Sounds like you regret it.”
“I-Wha-Of course not!” Furina blurts out, only to freeze under her stare.
“And it sounds like something you’ve had to tell yourself a lot.” Lumine almost grimaces, the familiar pang of betrayal stinging her chest. At least during their trial, she understands now that Furina had stubbornly held her lie for the sake of Fontaine. It’d been her nature to lie for the past five hundred years; it wasn’t something she could unlearn in a year.
But Lumine knows if she’d been in Furina’s place, she wouldn’t ignore something so important. Already, she has someone stringing her along by the nose. At least with her brother, she can still get some answers out of him if she catches up.
With a sigh, the traveler rises, gesturing for Paimon to follow. “I won’t pry, Furina. I just…wanted to drop those off.” She nudges the bottle towards the former Archon. “I…I don’t know about you, but I don’t like when I’m left wondering why. If it gives someone closure, then use it.”
“Traveler…” Paimon awkwardly glances between the pair before bobbing her head. “Um, see you around, Furina!”
She chases after Lumine, gently tugging on the traveler’s hair. She starts to hum, but the traveler knows better.
“I’m fine, Paimon.”
“If you say so…” Paimon returns to fiddling with her hair. “But if you ever want to talk, don’t forget that Paimon’s always here to help!”
Lumine’s lips curl in a smile, though it doesn’t reach its usual strength. “Yeah, I know.”
…
The bottle is the same as she left it.
Furina turns the glass over in her hand, watching the letter shift within. She’d sealed it with wax when she decided to discard the entire box along with you in the Elton Trench. It’d been pointless - what point was there to seal the bottle if the goal was to allow the water to destroy its contents? - but the buried part of her still clung to some hope that she would reach a day where she could open it.
And…that would be today, wouldn’t it? A day where she no longer has to worry about the prophecy. A day where she could finally relieve herself from her role of Focalors, God of Justice, who feels no guilt for the death of her dear equerry.
It’d been instinctual when the Traveler showed her the bottle, falling back to the same answers she threw at anyone who dared ask her what happened. For a century after your betrayal, she spat nothing but vitriol and disgust, desperately hoping the people would learn to avoid the topic when they saw how upset it made her. Instead, it only seemed to spur them on. It took Neuvillette and a violent thunderstorm destroying the harbor for the gravity of the topic to sink in.
Do not speak ill of the Melusines, nor the dragon that betrayed them , or else face the Archon’s sword.
It’s right up there alongside referring to all Melusines as ‘she’.
But now, she is only Furina, free of her obligations, and now free of any repercussions your lies would give her.
So, before she can convince herself otherwise, she chips off the wax seal, pops the cork free, and pulls open the letter.
At first glance, its brevity offends her. Then she reads it again, again, again, vision blurring as she frantically tries to blink her tears away. As a human, she is free to believe whatever she wants, and as she presses the letter to her chest, she feels the rush that can only come with the truth overtaking her heart.
One day, I will return as someone new. Do not mourn me. As I am now, I loved you, was loved by you, and that is enough.
…
“You still don’t believe me, even after seeing that photo?”
Wriothesley huffs as he waits for the kettle to finish heating. “I just think it’s a little unrealistic.”
“And not long ago, Fontanians being made of water was also unrealistic!” Sigewinne counters. She accepts the offered cup with a bright ‘thank you’ and nod, adding a dollop of a mysterious yellow substance that Wriothesley never bothered to test. Once he is settled with his own cup, she says, “And you know what my sister used to say: water that has turned to steam-”
“-will always return as rain,” Wriothesley completes for her.
“Mhm.” The pair fall silent, each savoring their own cups before Sigewinne nods. “Besides, how else would you explain choosing the same name my sister left behind when you came to the Fortress? I bet you they left it on purpose because they knew you would carry it on for them in the future.”
Wriothesley recalls the day he’d found the name in the obituaries while cleaning his foster family’s attic, how one sister bet that he couldn’t pronounce it correctly only for it to flow freely from his mouth. Now, he just sips at his tea and shrugs. “Only a coincidence,” he says before adding, “and we aren’t made of water anymore, anyway.”
Sigewinne pouts, but she continues to swing her feet smugly. “Either way, you stayed true to your word-”
“I do that quite a lot, and yet people are always surprised.”
“And you sound just like them, too.” Sigewinne giggles before lifting her cup. “Call it what you will. Whatever it is, I’m sure the world is happy to have you back.”
Wriothesley recalls the way Furina left during his trial, then the fairy tale Sigewinne would regale whenever the topic of love came up (which usually came after he finished sending the then-Archon the highest quality tea he, for some reason, knows she would like).
“ I hear true love is knowing someone’s favorite breakfast so that they can face the morning filled with happiness. ”
“ I just want to make sure I’m still in her good graces after disappointing her. ”
To which Sigewinne would only giggle. “ Lady Furina could never hate you. ”
The Duke shuts his eyes and allows the steam to warm his nose, then shrugs. No matter who he was then, there is someone here now , and as Sigewinne empties her cup, he reaches to fill it automatically.
Sigewinne beams, eyes sparkling. “Thank you, Your Grace!”
Wriothesley returns the smile with ease. “Any time, Sigewinne.”