Chapter Text
Furina normally adored the twists of the trials in the Opera Epiclese. Today, though, she wanted to abandon her seat to the Hydro Crystalflies that she often spotted near the waterfront. (Any crystalfy would probably make a better Archon than someone as weak as-)
"-but is it truly murder," the defendant shouted, "if I merely did what this court was too cowardly to? None - and I mean absolutely none - of you" he spun around, pointing wildly at the audience, the prosecution, the Oratrice, and Neuvillette, "are brave enough to hold her accountable for her crimes!"
For a moment, Furina forgot the context of the case.
For a moment, she thought the defendant meant her, not the employer he had murdered over alleged defamation.
For a moment, she pictured Neuvillette staring up at her and declaring, without even a hint of regret, "Guilty."
For a moment, her mind threw her back to the night Arlecchino had- Except in this imagined version, Neuvillette loomed over her, not Arlecchino, and he had known she did not have the gnosis, but he attacked her anyway, and he did not even look at her as she lay on the ground.
The moment passed. Neuvillette would never do that to her. She hoped.
She leaned forward, feigning innocent interest in the case. She dug her fingernails into her leg.
Her thoughts were too fast, or perhaps people were just too slow, because when her mind finally cleared for the second time in as many minutes, the prosecution responded to the defendant's arguments. "Alleged crimes, sir. And need I remind you that if you had such grievances with your employer, you could very well have brought it before the court?"
The defendant tipped his head back and laughed. "This court is a court for jesters, for fools, for the incompetent!"
The lights of the Opera Epiclese had never seemed so bright.
"The only thing," he continued, "this place is good for is some entertainment! Serious matters are best handled outside the watch of an immortal with the mind of my daughter and a Chief Justice who can't understand the most basic of emotions!"
The crowd did not respond. Furina froze.
Would they applaud him? Agree with his perspective? Or would-
"What's the matter, Iudex?" the defendant sneered, "C-"
"Enough," Neuvillette declared, "I allowed the silence to continue to prove to you, and anyone who may be watching, precisely how unpopular your viewpoint is. As soon as you were given a chance to speak, your chose to lob insults rather than present an defense based in the intricacies of the law. Regardless of your opinion on myself and Lady Furina, this court will pass judgement onto you. I would advise that you spend more energy on mounting a legal defense and less on broadcasting irrelevant personal beliefs."
The defendant scoffed. "The only thing you're doing is proving m-"
"If you continue to insult the court, you cede your time to present your defense. Present it, or the prosecution will be given your time," Neuvillette said.
The defendant crossed his arms and sighed. "Well, you see, Fontaine's law has always allowed for self-defense. If someone is attacked on the street, they have the right, and even the obligation to fight back against their attacker. To not do so would even be a miscarriage of justice, since justice revolves around punishing the guilty, and by not fighting back, the victim is, in fact, allowing their attacker to succeed! So, when I was maliciously slandered and defamed, it was not only my right but my moral obligation as a citizen of Fontaine, the nation of justice, to defend myself."
Somehow, Neuvillette did not react to the absurdity of the argument. Just one more reason he deserved more than her. "The prosecution may now respond."
The prosecution stood, and in an exasperated tone, declared, "First of all, there is no legal precedent in Fontaine requiring a victim to restrain their attacker. If there was, we would not need the Gardes. Second of all, self-defense only applies when someone is actively being attacked. The defendant claims to have suffered defamation - which, due to the lack of a court case, is alleged, not fact - and thus was not being actively attacked. Their choice to kill their employer is still murder."
The crowd murmured in agreement.
"Does he want little kids fighting criminals?"
"Pff, he just wants a nation of vigilantes!"
"Yeah, if I was attacked by the Fatui, there's no way I wouldn't run!"
"Coward!"
Coward.
"Oh, shut up, you called the Gardes last week!"
Coward.
"What of it?"
Coward.
Furina knew that she should not let a single comment from a single person a fraction of her age have any effect on her. But what if? Could she even disagree? What had she done that night, besides lie on her bed and cry? The sounds of the crowd washed over her as the world drained away. If she had been braver, perhaps Arlecchino would be in the Fortress of Meropide already, far away from her (where she'd only escape, to come back and finish ).
She had never thought of herself as a coward when she had been younger. Every day, before facing Fontaine in the blinding light of the mid-morning sun, she had told herself that continuously casting herself before judgemental eyes was brave, but that younger version of her had never faced true judgement. The judgement of a crowd she couldn't tell apart meant nothing compared to the judgement she had felt that night.
Furina did not know much about Arlecchino. Arlecchino did not say a word to her that night, but she did not have to. Furina knew Arlecchino was originally from Fontaine. So while Arlecchino did not say a word, Furina understood exactly what her actions meant. Look at what you have done. I have now attempted to murder the god of the my nation, because she was too useless to respond to the single major crisis of her centuries-long reign. Everything I am is the product of your own failure. You have brought this upon yourself, and you cannot even do the bare minimum of stepping aside to let someone with any amount of skill handle the things you cannot. You are not even worthy of death - you ought to live with your failure. Why would I waste my energy killing you? Everyone knows you're just a waste of resources. I have better things to do than deal with a five-hundred-year-old infant.
"Order! Order!" Neuvillette shouted. "If there is nothing more to be said-"
The defendant jumped to his feet. "This court is-"
"If there are no new arguments of actual merit to be made..." Neuvillette paused, waiting for someone to interject.
By some miracle, the defendant kept his mouth shut.
Good. She couldn't focus during this trial. She felt so restless, but she could do nothing except sit and suffocate in her own head. Had someone turned up the brightness on the lights again? They were even brighter than they had been a few minutes ago.
"Then I find the defendant guilty," Neuvillette said.
The Oratrice roared to life.
Furina normally loved to watch it work. She had always found the process both fascinating and comforting, a sign of routine and truth.
But she could not watch it today. If she thought about the Oratrice, she thought about Lyney's trial (where she had-), and if she thought about Lyney's trial, she would think about Arlecchino, and she could not think about Arlecchino again today.
"According to the Oratrice, the defendant is guilty. Gardes, take him to the Fortress of Meropide. This trial is over."
The attendants stood up and began to leave. The defendant protested as the gardes dragged him away, and the prosecution turned to rant to their friend. She watched all of it, slightly jealous. She could never afford the same anonymity as the attendants or the exasperation displayed by the prosecution. Not as the Hydro Archon. Neuvillette glanced up at her, and she forced herself to smile brightly. Hopefully, from this distance, it wouldn't seem as fake as it felt.
As much as Furina wanted to burst out of the Opera Epiclese, she knew she couldn't do so without making a fool of herself. So she sat perfectly still and watched the last of the attendants trickle out of the courthouse before she slowly rose to her feet, barely keeping herself from grabbing onto the railing in front of her for balance.
Physically, she was fine. But the way her thoughts whirled made it feel like the ground would twist and drop out from under her at any moment.
People rarely visited the countryside outside the Opera Epiclese. They found it far too close to the courthouse for comfort. Several centuries ago, Furina had found a seed on the side of the road and she had planted it on the hills nearby, leaving it out of the way so that as few people as possible would bother it. By now, the seed had turned into a large tree; large enough that she could climb up into the branches and cry, the leaves obscuring her from view.
She tried to keep her head held high and her paces leisurely as she hurried to the shaded branches of the tree in case someone saw her, but if she were honest, she had no idea if she succeeded in looking nonchalant or if she appeared as much of a mess as she felt internally. If she were completely honest, she cared what people thought, but couldn't find the energy to perfect her appearance.
Just how much of a failure and a coward did that make her? She was unable to control herself, the one thing that she should be able to control unconditionally, to provide security to the people of Fontaine. She made sure they never saw her anxious or upset, and reassuring the people that she was competent was really the least of her duties.
And yet here she was, failing to do even that.
Everyone would be happier if Arlecchino had just killed her that night she plunged her hand into Furina's chest.