Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A grandfather clock was embellished with intricate markings, carved to weave a personal touch on the antique piece. Its pendulum swung back and forth, the rhythm slow, lazy, and almost hypnotic. The effect: I was forced to keep my eyelids open.

The clock and the waiting room had the same aesthetic-dark, rich tones with overwhelming detail. All common indications that luxurious spending was a daily occurrence for, and based on the somber color palette, serious matters.

My eyes already soaked up the surroundings. They were greedily gobbling up new sights, but were not satisfied as the new turned into the old. No matter how lovely, it would soon develop a sense of normalcy. Rather than the awe and wonder in the past. This area was no exception. Hours upon hours of waiting had dulled the experience.

So, I turned to see a new attraction instead. Down through the window, which rogue, streamed rays of light staining the dark oak polished floor, was the grand stage. The Opera Epiclese. Famously known for their strict sense of justice and all kinds of performances. It was one of the best contenders in the entertainment department. The oratrice loomed over the audience, the scales equal.

High above, the judge of the court sat in their chair. Another trial, it seemed, was about to start. I couldn’t make out the figure, blurry as it was, but it probably wasn’t the Ludex. He was much too busy to handle most trials.

A sense of relief filled me. There was a slim chance I would see him at the opera house. And the Chief Justice, according to his reputation, was not the kind of man who would go around randomly for no reason. He hardly stepped out of his office. But I had never met the man himself, trusting the people's word without doing so..

What kind of attorney would that make me? Certainly an idiotic one, and not the most sensible. In court, you cannot just base of people's perceptions. Because people are biased. They always will be.

You have to consider the most unlikely and absurd scenarios. And most importantly of all, you must present your side of the argument as clearly and fiercely as possible. Not because your mora depends on it. But because even if you don’t believe your client is innocent, there is always a chance they are. People are most likely not going to die by verdict.

But…I looked outside, the citizens unaware of my gaze burning at them. A silent and gentle fury encased my eyes.

In a nation like Fontaine, doing a crime and being convicted of it was death socially. Whether you are released or not, you will always be judged by your records. That prejudice would live with you forever. If wrongfully convicted, it wouldn’t be fair. Not to anyone.

No, not anywhere really, but Fontaine felt like it would be even harsher.

And so it infuriated me to no end how many terrible lawyers there were. Always chasing after mora and lying through their teeth. While yes, you are supposed to defend your client, but they never seemed to consider the other side. The same applies to them-they could get ostracized by their own people. While I couldn’t place the final verdict, I could try my best to make it a fair trial.

True, I was supposed to side with my client, but I was always expected to tell the truth as well. Even if it did cost me the case. Even if I was a reject in the eyes of the public. Even if I had to deal with the-

..in the end of it all, those lies were necessary to live. So what if you told people why they wanted to hear? It was their fault for believing it blindly. Wasn’t it? That was how reality works.

Condemning them under the same labels. That kind of prejudice.

Wasn’t that the same thing I was criticizing the people of Fontaine for…

…I felt my hands curling.

I looked back at the trial.

Pity.

I couldn’t watch the trial. I could gain some understanding of how Fontainians thought. The opinions and emotions that were locked up in this room were flowing freely in the one I was fixated on. A scoff nearly escaped my lips. A sound that would certainly draw the attention of many people. Not in a good way either.

Speaking of which…the line hadn’t budged. A slight exaggeration, but only a little more than a drop in the ocean. As long as that drop of bias wasn’t affecting the great sea immensely, it would be fine. The ocean, or the people, was made of millions of drops of “water”. That wouldn’t change. All those opinions couldn't be washed away.

The reason I was here? Simple, because of a boss and a single flyer. The paper was a glaring, obvious contrast to the other decor. Bright, vibrant, bold colors clashed fiercely with the somber tones. An eyesore. A funny one since the receptionist was glaring at the flyer. Brand new opportunity at the Opera Epiclese,a once in a lifetime chance. Will you be able to score a job at the opera house?

I almost smiled, this clearly wasn’t the work of the opera house.

The opera house is known for their whimsical and astounding performances. Described as magical, even tear-jerkingly emotional. It also acted as Fontaine’s greatest courtroom.

But even then.

It was always a performance. One they didn’t think too much about, but every law hinged on that ugly fact.

Until they, too, were forced on stage.

Forced to play by the laws they once ridiculed others for. That they hadn’t understood they were flawed.

But it no doubt lived up to its name. Tickets sold out in mere seconds. And people flocked to the place daily. So with that amount of funding...

Why were they opening up to the mass public when they could just hire already qualified people?

It didn’t make sense; the problem the Opera Epiclese.had was time, not resources. So it was better to throw money around and interview the best of the best off the bat instead of wasting hours getting many people who you need to train as well. It was a waste of productivity.

Unless, for some reason, they couldn’t. I looked at the lady at the front desk. Her hands were blurs, typing nonstop and a slight wince. Indications of fatigue.. Maybe, possibly. But was it work related? Not enough data.

Were those people refusing or unavailable to work at court? Mora couldn’t be the reason, and I couldn’t see them getting a better job opportunity than this.

So then what? If they started looking for employees from other nations to hire, it would imply that Fontaine was going through an issue of some kind-

Ah. That would make sense. I still needed some more context, but, for now, the logic lined up. I cannot base anything too seriously on guesswork. What was the biggest issue in Fontaine... the prophecy.

Words weaved and painted a picture of eternal doom. Crafted by gods and fate alike. Strings on a puppet stage. Your future was not your own. You cannot escape it. Simple as that. Fontainians are sinners, and they will soon drown with the nation itself. The only one living would be the hydro archon, on her throne. Weeping.

I stared at the people below. Their miniature figures looked like toy displays. Was that how the gods saw us from their palace high above?

If so, then a nation drowning was just a collection or set getting destroyed. They could just buy a different one. A more submissive one.

Then again, there wasn’t much to go off about them. I couldn’t tell what kind of person they were, only their actions without motive. It would be like presenting evidence in a case, but without a reason you can’t say they did it right? Unfortunately I couldn’t get all the facts. Or my job would be so much easier.

So then, going back to the prophecy and linking it to the situation now. A crisis the Fontainians couldn’t avoid. How could the people possibly react? Well, I think of two possible but definitely simplified options.

The first was the people who stayed. Mortals-human were not the best at tackling or preventing long-term problems. Their brains are hardwired to think about immediate threats.

So, a prophecy that hasn’t come to pass in 500 years. That wasn’t perceived as an issue. And it’s hard to move on to a new nation. Most people stay in the place where they were born. Nostalgia and good memories are ingrained in your brain, so that it makes it difficult to just...move on.

That would make up all of the fountainians living here.

The second was that the people understood the risk. This was usually the minority. But if my previous calculations were right. Improbable, the time period and lack of data-

No, such reckless thoughts under their eyes, god, it must be cruel to always think so much while under, under... Oh, what’s the point of all this?

This wasn’t my nation. So what if I wasn’t an idiot, and ignorance is bliss, one I could never have.

Not yet. I hadn’t gotten to the important stuff. Eventually, I would figure that out too. And then my life would be a living hell. If it weren’t for my boss, I would never come to this land of justice.

Because I will ruin the nation. Tear it to pieces with my mind alone.

As for why I took that risk. To take this job opportunity when it can only end up in certain disasters.

Well, to avoid suspicion. I had regrettably shown a profound interest in Fontaine.

And of course, my boss noticed; she always did. So when certain circumstances forced me to leave Liyue...

Well, wouldn’t you know it, a massive open opportunity in the best courthouse in Fontaine just happened to hit.

My overtime hours and the weird, bizarre cases that I managed to solve for her were, sadly, enough to deem me in her eyes as someone hard-working and very ambitious.

Meaning, I wouldn’t pass up this interview. She wasn’t wrong, if not for certain issues…

Say that same person was reluctant to do so and just made a decision that went against everything you knew about them, that would raise some alarm bells.

You don’t want the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing to think you need to be investigated.

So here I was stuck in a room I didn’t want to be in. With a bunch of people whose chances of passing this interview were next to zero.

Well, according to Ninnggaung, who so graciously managed to make this waste of time-no this grievingly long wait a bit more bearable by shortening it, the people in front of me were people who were deemed qualified enough by the opera house by resumes only. They went first but that wasn’t enough. Reputation wasn’t everything here. I fit the category quite nicely-

Even between my thoughts, I could sense that painful unease. It was obvious behind that pretense of calmness. The evidence was the constant tapping of the foot and shaking hands. Maybe they weren’t totally idiots if they understood enough to be nervous

Despite this, some were managing a passable sense of calm. Until they came out. While it is natural to be relieved or anxious that you failed. To have all of them be so tense and terrified almost was odd.

It could be my nerves, my twisted perception of the world.

Just what happens in that interview room? Could it be connected to the receptionist? She did seem on edge. A possible reason is that the massive influx of people had worn her down, but working at the opera house made people used to that. And there was the fact that a good receptionist can stay calm under pressure.

I paused, then spoke in a voice that was even. “Excuse me, miss, but what is the upcoming performance here?” Her head snapped up, then relaxed. She was being too obvious now.

“That’s...it's called l'illusion de la vérité. Performed by lyney and lynette.

Not entirely incompetent. She needed a bit more prodding.

“And at what time?” The question was polite enough. The intentions, well I couldn’t say they were pretty. I bore my eyes on her. If she knew what I was trying to do, then she would fall right into my trap. Hook and sinker. Don’t attract too much attention. Hint at it. And soon they will be far apart. Hypothetically, since this was based on an inference, not a fact-based theory.

“I’m quite busy right now, so I’m afraid I can’t answer your question. Sorry”

I almost smiled. While it was a valid response, a better one would be to tell an employee to give me a response instead. A transparent nervousness after a little interaction and avoiding the topic.

She was new. If the Opera Epiclese lost their receptionist as well, then their staff had to be dropping like flies. An excellent job at hiding it, since Fontaine rather…lively newspaper stories haven’t picked up the story yet.

Or maybe the press was told to keep their mouth shut, who knows?. Still had to figure out how Fontainians thought and acted. How this society worked. If it was the same as before. Then no, my judgments were severely flawed.

Life wouldn’t bend to my logic. And being human is the embodiment of randomness.

For now, at least...these thoughts will need to be edited and changed.

As much as I would love to question the other interviewee or gain more information from the receptionist, the timing was inappropriate. If you were going to a meeting. How would you feel if you were interrogated right before a big meeting? I don’t think anyone would appreciate that. Not to mention it would screw my data.

Everyone here was in the same environment. And while they should react differently, considering whatever the people had seen in that interview, whether these individuals came before or after, there was no way of saying they wouldn’t unintentionally get themselves in trouble for revealing anything substantial. My actions here were also under surveillance, so the possibility of someone realizing that I knew something was up was likely.

So not the best options. Not here, not now.

If the circumstances changed, how would I question someone? Well, one way was to bring their guard down..

Distracting them with something like-chess. My eyes landed on the table of two. There was a chessboard. Used, but not cleaned up. My lips twitched to move upwards, but stopped. Ironic, how much I inspected this room, the people, every single detail, yet a simple game avoided my gaze. A wonder of how much more I have missed.

The black side seemed to be capturing all of the white pieces: both bishops, a rook and a queen. Though the white was taking away their pawns. So it was hard to say who would win.

The game would only end when the king was captured.

"Celine Azura." That monotone voice could only have belonged to the receptionist.

It was my turn to walk into whatever hell they created in that interview. My foot tapped the floor twice, in a methodical way. It paused if they realized how it had betrayed me.

What a nuisance.

My worries were not consoled as the last person and left stiffly. Their awkward and rough movement, paired with a clenched jaw, gave them away.

No more stalling, this would provide some evidence for my theories. Maybe I just didn’t want to know.

“So I walked my feet across the lush auburn carpet, with hints of gold speckled throughout. The dark, polished oak floors lay beneath the daunting door.

It will be fine. I would be fine.

I raised a hand to knock on the door. Once, twice, three times. I heard the shuffling of...papers? It could be many other things..

Focus.

“..Come in." Deep yet gentle voice. Also seemed male. It struck a sense of familiarity in me. Odd, I didn’t know many people in Fontaine at all, and certainly not someone who is still living there.

I turn the gold doorknob and step inside to see-

A pale man wearing clothes of varying shades of blue, black, and accents of gold.

Several multi-colored gemstones were embedded in his outfit. A feather was pinned at the side of his hair. He was, as I predicted, organizing papers and reading them.

Silvery- white hair clashed with streaks of blue tied in a black ribbon. Most striking of his features was his light violet irises, which had sharp diamond-like pupils.

Where had I seen this man before? In a Fontaine newspaper article, coming here. Right on the front page-ludex.

Oh. I see why the others were so terrified. You would not want this man to be your interviewer. At all.

But that overwhelming, suffocating scent of primordial hydro..I’ve only smelled it once before.

No, it couldn’t be. Not him.

The hydro sovereign?

Chapter Text

Outside, the bright blue sky was covered with swirling, soft, puffy clouds above. The sun emits a gentle light, a precious light that cannot be bought. Endless crowds pass by me, giant masses of clues. Right now, my sharp eyes blurred over them all. Random spots and obscure shapes are all I am able to see. 

We take too much for granted, but if the sun were gone, none but the gods would be left in a cold and miserable world. Right down to the miracle we can even breathe, and still we-they are creatures who cry that it’s never enough. They are insatiable animals.

So, as I stared into the dismissal, gray pavement. Before the grime and dust had turned into that awful color, I imagined it would be quite lovely. Funny, those simple stones captured how I was feeling. 

The interview…I felt myself wince. 

His question rang clear and smooth. Clinical detachment.

“Pardon my rudeness, but have we met before?”A slight tilt. Curiosity-not concern.

One should not be offended if the Ludex was kindly cold. He kept his distance. Any high-ranking official would know that. In the justice system, and particularly in judges, bias would not be tolerated. 

And for Neuvillette, someone who was known for being a fair judge, having personal relationships could create preferences. That much I could infer. 

Even then, reality crashed into me again. The amount of selfishness for me to want him to even understand…

I guess I was caught off guard. A novice mistake, not for a lawyer. But how could I forget that…

“Dear child, please do not cry. I am rusty, and my memory isn’t what it used to be. Wasting your tears on me is futile. It pains me to see your sorrow. So promise me this-try to stay positive."

An awful squelching sound and a thump. I turned away, but her cold hand firmly held me while the other woman continued. Blue veins and flesh torn. The dragon's head severed, no, ripped, lost both body and soul. Blood sprayed on the ground. Embers stuck onto my ebony hair.

 I didn’t do it. It wasn’t my fault. 

And..he still had to be alive. He wouldn’t have died that easily. If it weren’t for my presence. 

I felt hot globs of tears roll down my face. I want to curl up into a ball and wail. Anything to stop the pain. Friends, family, neighbors, all lifeless bodies. And now..the dragon. 

  Light violet irises with sharp pupils, dull and glassy. Instead of emotions hiding in a stoic mask, they were gone. 

And those same eyes were asking questions that haunted me

A good lawyer cannot be faint of heart. Cases can range from gruesome to boring, and you need to keep a straight face for all of them.  Lawyers are still people. And people react to trauma. 

                       _________________________________________________________

I closed the door as my hand tightened on the old golden doorknob. The soft click rang out. But I didn’t turn to face him. My trembling hands would give me away. 

Great. Just great.

In any case, it was strange that the Ludex was conducting the interview. What would compel him to do so? No, a better question would have been what purpose would it serve for the Opera Epiclese?

As much as Ludex's reputation as a judge was seemingly incredible, I could not see him being an interviewer. Based on the press, the man’s personality, lifestyle, and even relationships revolved around his occupation.

As a judge, he would be good at asking questions…but those would be more pointed. Specific and targeted.  

The interviewees were already nervous, and seeing that most of these people were Fountainians, they saw him in court, setting the subconscious notions of being put on trial.  I could see this ending in disaster. 

However, his position could also have benefits. 

This interview was for attorneys specifically.  So being under pressure is something they are used to. So seeing how they would react or how quickly they respond is important, as well as after being caught off guard. Say like..a high-ranking official?  Using this man wouldn’t be a bad idea.

A risky one, but not terrible.   

But waiting too long would be even more suspicious. So I turned around. He was hidden between a mountain of paper, and the thick foul smell of ink was unmistakable. 

The design-smooth swirls of grey and white on a vase, placed inside it, were some digitalis. The tones of white, pink,  and purple spotty flower cups, the green stems drooped innocently from the ceramic. Neglected. 

A small portrait, with an oval silver frame, of an unfamiliar man with his children was displayed proudly on the desk. Silver, in all these gold accents. Dusty thin film covers the picture. 

It seemed that even in this person, the room demonstrated their difference from the organization as a whole. Individuality clenched tightly and seeped into these walls. But to what extent? 

So, the opera house was using someone else's office.   

The faint, dim, almost silent, shiny black vinyl record player was spinning. Seems the Ludex had made the room his own. Or what he was used to, at least. The faint splash of...ocean waters? Wait, no, that was Natlan natural hot springs, which was the soundtrack playing steadily on the round disk.  Preference in music-water?  

And..

I- the girl held the tea cup, carefully pinching the porcelain glass with her index finger and her thumb. The rest of the tiny fingers held the base. 

As the pair of light violet irises stared curiously at a peculiar human child.

I would find it likely that a dragon would find this wide-eyed girl, myself, an oddity. Though this whole situation was odd. The comfortable silence, the fact that despite the clear power unbalanced that this girl remained unharmed. 

Allowed to stay in the presence of a higher being.

Doing something called “tea etiquette”? 

Humans, with their confounding words and social constructs. 

Did the chief justice have to hold his tea exactly like that?

Not to mention, he was doing it slightly wrong.

Regardless, no matter the logic, the Opera Epilcese would not have made this so risky. Sure, the Chief Justice of Fontaine was a great option to scare the masses, but it was also a disrespect to his time.

They would not have gotten the Chief Justice's permission unless he wanted to. But why? Why would the man prioritize his own job over this? 

It couldn’t have anything to do with me, right? I had been careful, was it that-

I stared down at his black gloved hands, which were folded in front of me.

“Good evening, I am the Chief Justice of Fontaine. You can refer to me as Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette, he went by that name even now. 

Ridiculous that he remembered it. 

I wrenched my eyes to his light violet irises…

Which were dead and lifeless-

To see him glancing down at my records. 

I had imagined that.

…Ninnggaung might have put that incident in there. 

The pen clicked up and down, flickering. Like the grandfather clock in the waiting room.

Only, it seemed even more agonizing than before. 

“You are Celine Azura, correct?”

 Calm, calm, be calm-

“I prefer Azura.”

I forced my legs not to flee.

I despise him, hate him. Why him? What cruel twist of irony was this? What were the damn odds? 

I want this...pain to go away. I shouldn’t blame him. He-he did nothing wrong. 

I could just question him instead 

“…I believe someone else was supposed to conduct this interview.” 

He took a moment to respond.

 “That individual is hospitalized at this time.”

Hospitalized? And now the chief justice? The timing was odd to say the least. Right after my transfer to Fontaine as well. 

Coincidence or Correlation? But..the dehydrated flowers and dusty atmosphere. This room has been vacant for some time.  

“Was this person the inhabitant of this room?”  

The pen stopped clicking. “Yes.” 

I looked at the flower, so innocent yet so deadly. 

“What was this individual in the hospital?” 

“I do not follow. Could you please elaborate?”

“...I noticed the individual keeps Digitalis in a vase, close to their desk.”

Maybe if it were anyone else, they would have interrupted me, but Neuvillette, however he let me go off. Silent, but that seemed to be his own kind of judgment instead of cowardice. 

And it bored me to continue. 

I was maybe getting my points slightly docked in his mind. For being completely off topic, and I was doing this in an around-about way. Anyone else would do that. It made sense. 

Then again, I didn’t know him that well. But it was important. More importantly, if there was a chance of…

“Digitalis is the key ingredient of digoxin, a heart failure medicine. Digitalis, by consuming it in any manner or physical contact with the flower, can severely damage your heart. The effects are that Digitalis can slow a person’s heart rate.”

The silence was palpable. Any judge would know what I was getting at.  Bring a case to an attorney interview.  

How original. 

I was being pushy, painfully so. The possibility that I would not get the job was on my mind. It was already low to begin with.

However, I would rather get kicked out of the interview entirely than let this continue. 

“Pardon my impertinence, but once again, I will implore you to ask what the interviewer was hospitalized for? Even simple or honest mistakes have serious consequences. Regarding whether the odds were unlucky, the possibility of the worst scenario is attempted murder, must be considered.”

I relentlessly continued. “And chance this man does survive his trip to the hospital? Then, furthermore, could someone inflict worse.”

I glanced at the tea on the desk. This person might not know that the interviewer was in the hospital yet.

Or maybe they were attacking interviewers in particular. The foul ink, the smell of ink-

The glass shattered, blood spilled from his mouth, the documents stuck onto the ink, staining the carpet-

“So I recommend you throw the tea as well.”

Instead, I heard the click of a phone. Two calls were made. One to prolong the stay of the man at the hospital, specifically checking for digoxin poisoning, and two to dispose of the flower. In a calm, even tone.

The chief justice did all of this while looking at me. 

“Take your time.”

It probably was supposed to be a considerate gesture. To me, it was more like an insult. Stuff like this can happen any time, any place. Common.

So there is no such thing as shock or fear, only acceptance. All this gesture did was waste time. 

Time, time, time…no, it was running out. 

And why was he offering this? “Take your time.” His time was worth more than mine. Ridiculous. 

 “We can proceed.” 

“Very well, what would you say is the most difficult part of your job?”

“Balancing my social life with the law. Justice is an accepted theory, but the practice is highly disputed. Certain verdicts can disagree with the public, so they can enact their own punishments. Is this not another form of justice?” 

“You are from Liyue. How are you going to handle adapting to Fontaine laws and customs?”

“Liyue laws mainly consist of commercial laws, while Fontaine has a broader focus on a variety of civil topics. Acknowledging this, I have reviewed your cases and laws. So this will be a minor concern for the opera house.”

…This was going to take forever.  

_________________________________________________________

I failed miserably. That was the only outcome of this, whatever that was. One mistake can lead to everything falling apart, back right where you started. All the work and pain seemed pointless.  I didn’t have to open my mouth about the effects  of Digitalis, but I did. 

Maybe if it wasn’t the chief justice, I wouldn’t have-no, that was the person I was.

Always too emotional.

After that long and brutal session, I was free. So why did he feel the need to ask that? My rusty, crackled, thick, and scratched black chains were already heavy enough; why add another one?

“Pardon my rudeness, but have we met before?”

Deceptively innocent that question was. 

My lips curled upwards, teeth slightly exposed. “No, I believe you're mistaken.” 

The straight lines that the stone brick made warped into curvy and jagged patterns, pools of  twisted reality. The world spun dizzyingly. 

My legs attempted to escape the situation, faster-even faster.  But it was everywhere. Everything. Everyone. 

Heart and ribs throbbed furiously, like they were being ripped apart piece by piece. Limbs convulsively twitched. Stumble. Again. Again and again. 

Swim where? Anywhere-

A sudden thud. A railing. Railing? Railing. Yes. That. My fists gripped them tightly. 

Sharp, loud, impossibly short gasps escaped me-eluded me

Plip, plop, plip, plop, plip, plop, plip…

It was softly raining, and salty drops rolled down my face, tiny little pinpricks. 

There was no sniffling.