Work Text:
"Don't Cry for Me, Fontaine"
The lights reflect in the water,
the city never fully sleeps.
I still hear the old voices,
lost in the silver glow.
I once stood high on big stages,
hiding my heart from every gaze.
But between cheers and applause
I only longed for happiness.
Don't cry for me, Fontaine,
I'm still here.
Not as a legend from stories,
but as a person with you.
And when the night kisses the fountains,
when the water speaks softly,
then I know that your heart knows me,
even without a crown in the light.
By my side walks the one
who understands my silence.
Who recognizes me when every mask
disappears in the morning mist.
She took the weight off my shoulders
when no one else saw it.
In her eyes, I found home,
so far and yet so near.
(Clorinde)
You don't have to be anything for this world,
no symbol, no distant star.
For me, you are just Furina,
and that's exactly how I like you.
Don't cry for me, Fontaine,
time has freed us.
From duty came a new life,
from longing, tenderness.
And when the waves move on,
one thing will remain:
My heart belongs to Fontaine forever –
and to her, who will walk beside me.
The applause seemed never-ending.
The crowd went wild, cheering for the petite, white-haired woman.
On the steps of the opera house stood Furina in front of a crowd calling her name. Her speech was over, but people seemed moved by her words.
Not by a grand performance.
But by her honesty.
A little further back stood dark-haired Clorinde.
As always, extremely attentive.
As always, eerily calm.
Her slender gloved hand rested near the hilt of her sword while her watchful gaze scanned the crowd.
But behind her professional demeanor, something else was hiding.
Pride.
Deep, honest pride.
She had seen Furina fight.
Not with weapons.
But with tormenting loneliness, strict expectations, and terrible fears.
And yet she stood there.
Upright.
So incredibly brave.
As the crowd slowly dispersed, petite Furina walked straight up to her.
Clorinde wanted to say something, but suddenly she was wrapped in two arms.
"Furina?"
Brutally ripped from her train of thought, the young woman could hardly react appropriately.
"There you are."
Furina hugged her tightly.
For a moment, Clorinde froze in surprise.
Then she carefully wrapped her arms around Furina in return.
"The speech was good," Clorinde said in a soft voice.
"Just good?"
"Exceptional."
An honest opinion.
Furina smiled.
A beautiful smile.
But during the hug, the former Hydro Archon noticed something.
Something that made her heart heavy.
Clorinde felt frighteningly light.
Her shoulders had become even narrower.
Her waist even thinner.
Even under her elegant uniform, Furina could feel how little weight the young duelist had. The tailor-made clothes lost their fit and hung noticeably looser.
As she pulled back a little, Furina’s differently blue eyes studied Clorinde more closely.
The fine, slim muscles were still there.
But the dark-haired young woman looked exhausted.
Completely worn out.
As if she had been carrying too much for far too long.
"Clorinde."
Furina's melodic voice filled the space between them.
"Yes?"
"You've gotten thinner."
Immediately, Clorinde looked away. Remarks and judgments of any kind about her body seemed to make her visibly uncomfortable.
"I'm fine."
That standard response.
"That wasn't an answer," Furina said, frowning.
"Furina—"
“Clorinde.”
The tone became unusually sharp.
The duelist fell silent.
Furina knew that look.
The look of someone who had learned to hide their pain.
Someone who always thought of others first.
Furina suddenly remembered all the years.
Every danger.
Every long day.
Every night.
Clorinde had always been there.
She had never asked for anything.
She had never complained.
She had protected Furina, even when she was exhausted herself.
And suddenly Furina felt a lump in her throat.
"You have done so much for me."
Clorinde immediately shook her head.
"That's my duty."
"No," the white-haired woman replied promptly.
Her voice was surprisingly firm.
"That was never just duty."
Clorinde looked at her with sad eyes.
Furina stepped closer. Her rather slender figure suddenly seemed much larger.
"You protected me when I was weak."
Her eyes became moist.
"You trusted me when I didn’t even trust myself."
Clorinde wanted to reply to something.
But Furina didn’t let her.
"You were always by my side."
The young duelist remained silent.
"And I got used to it."
A sad smile appeared on Furina’s flawless face.
"I expected you to always be strong."
Her hand gently rested on Clorinde’s cheek.
There, the soft hands barely had any padding.
"But today, I see how tired you are."
Clorinde closed her eyes for a moment.
The touch was gentle.
Almost cautious, as if the young Clorinde were made of glass.
As if Furina was afraid she might break.
"I'm fine."
"Maybe."
Furina shook her head.
"But you don’t always have to be fine."
For a moment, Clorinde seemed younger. Almost childlike.
Not like the famous duelist.
Not like a bodyguard.
But like someone who had been strong alone for far too long.
Furina took her hands.
They were slender, and on her right hand, Furina could feel a fine scar—a more than 20-year-old injury.
"I have spent my life serving Fontaine."
She looked at the magnificent city of Fontaine behind them.
"And I will always love the people. The heirs of the Primeval Sea."
Then she looked back at Clorinde.
Her voice softened.
"But I want to protect someone else too."
Clorinde's breath hitched.
"You."
Excruciating silence.
Clorinde's lips became dry.
"Furina..."
"You've watched over me for so long."
Furina smiled through her tears.
"Now let me watch over you for a change."
Clorinde lowered her gaze.
Her hands trembled slightly.
"I don't need protection."
"That's what everyone says who needs it the most."
For the first time that evening, Clorinde laughed softly.
A tired, but genuine laugh.
Furina immediately took the opportunity and hugged her again.
This time more carefully.
As if she were holding something precious. This situation completely matched the truth.
"From now on," Furina murmured against her shoulder, "I’ll protect Fontaine even more."
Then she held the skinny Clorinde a little tighter.
"And especially you."
And to Clorinde’s own surprise, this thought didn’t feel like a burden.
But like home.
The evening had quieted down.
People had long since left the square, and only the distant sound of the water could still be heard. Fontaine felt peaceful.
Furina and Clorinde sat side by side on a wooden bench by the shore.
For once, there were no obligations.
No dangers.
No spectators.
Just the two of them.
Clorinde had rested her head against Furina's shoulder. She would never have done something like that before. For too many years, she had told herself that she had to be strong, controlled, unshakable.
But with Furina, that had become easier.
She didn’t have to prove anything.
Furina noticed the slight movement and gently rested her head against Clorinde's.
"Tired?"
"A little."
"Then rest."
Furina's genuine concern came through in every single word.
Clorinde closed her violet eyes.
The warmth coming from little Furina was pleasant.
Healing and calming.
Almost strangely familiar.
And yet their lives had been so different.
Furina had lived through centuries.
Five centuries full of stories, hopes, mistakes, and sacrifices.
Clorinde, on the other hand, was only twenty-five.
For Furina, that must have barely been a moment.
This thought had often made Clorinde sad before.
Time felt unfair.
She herself would age.
One day grow old.
While Furina had already seen centuries pass.
"You're thinking."
Furina's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
"That obvious?"
"To me, yes."
Clorinde smiled faintly.
"I just thought..."
She hesitated.
"That twenty-five years next to five hundred isn't all that much."
Furina went quiet.
"Clorinde."
"Hm?"
“Do you know what five hundred years were like for me?”
The duelist opened her eyes. Right, she thought. She didn’t really know.
Clorinde
Furina gazed out over the surface of the water. Her quiet voice carried a clear note of melancholy.
“For a long time, I thought they would never end.”
Her voice was calm.
“But nowadays, they often feel surprisingly short.”
Clorinde listened closely.
“Of all those years, the ones I’ve spent with people are the most precious memories.”
Furina turned her head.
Her blue eyes were warm.
"Time doesn't become valuable just because it's long."
A hand rested on Clorinde's.
This delicate gesture said more than words.
"But by who you spend it with."
Clorinde's heart beat faster.
She lowered her gaze to her clasped hands.
Then I want to spend a lot of time with you."
The words came quietly.
Honestly.
"As long as possible."
Furina smiled.
Not her public smile.
Not the mask Fontaine had known for centuries.
But the real thing.
"I want that too."
Clorinde slowly moved a little closer.
Enjoyed the warmth of her proximity.
The peace.
The feeling of not having to fight for a moment.
She thought about how many years she had dreamed of simply being by Furina's side.
Not as a duelist.
Not as a bodyguard.
But as the person Furina trusted.
Now that wish had come true.
And as Furina gently squeezed her hand, Clorinde allowed herself to close her eyes again.
Not out of vigilance.
Not out of exhaustion.
But because, for the first time in a long time, she felt completely safe.
Right by Furina's side.
The conversation started quite casually. Furina and Clorinde were sitting together in a quiet lounge while the rain drummed against the windows outside. Fontaine's weather washed away sins and refreshed the mind.
“You know,” Furina said suddenly, “I still remember your promise.”
Clorinde looked up. “Which one?”
“The one from back then.”
Furina smiled gently. “You were eleven years old.”
Immediately, Clorinde felt embarrassed. A delicate pink appeared on her narrow face. “You still remember that?”
“Of course.”
Furina leaned back.
'You were terribly serious.'
A soft laugh escaped her.
'And so terribly thin.'
'Furina...'
'It's true.'
Clorinde sighed.
Furina still remembered that girl well.
The eleven-year-old Clorinde had already been polite and disciplined, but also way too quiet for a child. She had been slender, almost fragile-looking, with serious eyes that often understood more than they should have.
And yet, back then she had stood in front of Furina, shoulders back, chin up.
Determined.
"One day I will be strong enough to protect you."
Furina could still remember it word for word.
Back then, she had smiled and thought the statement was just childish idealism.
Today, she knew better.
Clorinde had meant every single word seriously.
"You actually did it," Furina said quietly.
"Hm?"
"You kept your promise."
Clorinde remained silent.
"All these years."
Furina studied her.
Time had changed her.
The skinny girl had grown into a beautiful young woman.
Still of rather slender build, graceful and elegant, but with the poise and strength of an experienced duelist. Her movements were controlled, her presence calm.
But Furina sometimes still thought she could see the child from back then in her.
The child with eyes far too serious.
"You know what always made me sad?"
Clorinde furrowed her brow.
"What?"
Furina's gaze softened.
"That even back then, you always wanted to protect others."
The duelist didn’t understand at first.
Then she noticed the expression in Furina’s eyes.
"Furina..."
"Even as a child."
Furina spoke carefully.
"You worried about others. You wanted to help. Wanted to be strong. Wanted to protect."
She paused for a moment.
"But I often felt like no one thought about protecting you."
Silence filled the room.
Clorinde lowered her gaze.
Not because she wanted to argue.
But because she didn’t know what to say.
Because Furina was horribly right.
Furina reached for her hand.
“You have a good heart.”
“Everyone does.”
“No.”
Furina shook her head.
“Not like you.”
Her voice was full of affection.
“You’ve stayed kind, even though life hasn’t always been kind to you.”
Clorinde felt her fingers tremble slightly.
“I just did what was right.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Furina smiled. A few minutes passed. The pleasant tension was almost tangible.
Hands still entwined.
"That's why I'm grateful."
'Grateful?'
'For your presence.'
Clorinde lifted her head in surprise.
Furina pressed her hand a little tighter.
'For the conversations. For your patience. For your loyalty.'
A small smile appeared on her face.
'And just for being there.'
Clorinde was suddenly speechless.
She had spent her life serving Furina.
She had believed that her duty was to protect the Archon.
But every time Furina said things like that, she realized that her closeness was valued not just out of duty.
But as a person.
Furina looked at her for a moment.
Then she smiled warmly.
"The little Clorinde back then would probably be very proud of the woman you are today."
Clorinde laughed softly.
"And the... Furina back then?"
Furina thought for a moment.
Then she moved closer and rested her head on Clorinde’s shoulder.
“She would have just been happy that she stayed.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
The rain continued to fall against the window panes.
And Clorinde held Furina’s hand tightly, while she enjoyed the quiet certainty that all those years hadn’t just brought her closer to her duty – but also to the person who mattered most to her.
The shared space remained quiet,
Clorinde still hadn’t let go of her hand.
The rain drummed softly against the windows while the two of them still sat in the calm lounge. The world outside seemed far away.
Furina looked at Clorinde with fascinated eyes.
Those intense, hypnotic, calm eyes.
The elegant and rigid posture.
The skinny yet toned body, hidden under heavy fabrics.
The woman who had stayed by her side for so many years.
Then the white-haired woman leaned forward. Furina opened the window in front of them. The cool, fresh rain air caressed her soft face. She breathed deeply through it.
“Furina?”
In response, Furina gently placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her.
Not dramatically.
Not theatrically.
Simply tenderly.
Warm.
So incredibly intoxicating.
For a moment, Clorinde even forgot to breathe.
When they finally pulled away from each other, Furina looked unusually embarrassed.
“Well…”
“Well?” Clorinde asked with a small smile. The young woman tried to hide it. But her heart was beating so wildly she thought it would burst her ribs.
Furina cleared her throat.
“I’ve prepared something.”
She reached beside her and pulled out a carefully decorated box.
Clorinde recognized it immediately.
“Cake?”
“Of course, cake.”
Furina sounded almost offended.
“What else did you think?”
“With you, it could have been a dramatic monologue too,” Clorinde teased.
“How rude,” Furina said, her cheeks flushed.
Clorinde chuckled quietly.
Furina opened the box.
Inside were several intricately decorated little cakes and pastries.
“So?”
Furina pushed the box closer.
“Would you finally like to have some cake?”
Clorinde looked at the sweets first.
Then at Furina.
Then back at the sweets.
Furina became suspicious.
'Why are you looking like that?'
'I'm thinking.'
'That sounds dangerous.'
A gentle smile appeared on Clorinde's face.
'I just realized that you're sweeter than the cake.'
Furina froze.
Her stomach fluttered.
"W-What?"
"Objective observation."
"Clorinde!"
The duelist looked completely innocent.
"Besides, I don't have to choose."
"Don't have to choose?"
Clorinde took one of the small tarts.
"I'll just take both."
Furina stared at her.
Then her face slowly turned red.
"You're getting bolder and bolder."
"Only with you."
For a moment, they looked at each other in silence.
Then Furina burst out laughing.
A real, happy laugh.
Clorinde couldn't help but smile along.
And while the rain fell outside, they shared the cake, the warmth of the moment, and the quiet joy of finally just being able to be together.
The former archon chuckled. She was determined to counter Clorinde's teasing words. With a mischievous grin, she looked at her companion.
"But my little Clorinde," Furina spoke slowly, "you are a real temptation despite your slender frame. Someday, I'll have you."
But all you have to do is look at me to know, thought Furina and smiled, that every word is true.