[ Fontaine loves their rumors. Following trials, it spreads like wildfire. Business shared, opinions made and yet… this one? It was buried over time. Lyney felt a little shell shocked by it, almost betrayed in some weird way. He has his allegiances with the House but from his knowledge - Wriothesley was never among their ranks… huh.
The more Wriothesley talks, the more Lyney settles. Eyes shut, back to the chair and his heart settling from anxiousness.
There's a similarity, he thinks of how well people spoke of him and Lynette. Ulterior motives that he's sure Wriothesley have no clue of for his own life too. What paths they walked... different, but similar. He never got a chance to kill the ones that hurt Lynette – Father did and deep down, he is still bitter about it. ]
Life has a funny way to guide you. I’m sure you never would have chose this for yourself, would you?
[ Another question, another echo. He never wanted to be the Knave — but it saves his siblings from being groomed or the other House orphans from being trained. Lyney took the heavy brunt of work, sinned and let his hands bloody too.
He once told the traveler all he did was fib and oh, how that lie stung. ]
Rotten people deserve to be lost to the world. Squandering chances no one has but them… it’s a bit sick. The land of justice turned its eyes to those who deserved it. Who are we to blame? The people, our Archon, our order? No. I blame no one, but we took comfort in people that showed us kindness and allowed us to make choices. For better or worse, that was a luxury denied from us.
Edited (REWRITES THIS BC IM ACTUALLY COGNIZANT NOW...) 2024-01-23 20:53 (UTC)
[ All told, Wriothesley doesn't know what he might have chosen for himself. Choice and the agonizing lack thereof have played their roles in his life like left and right hands. One of the grand what-ifs, a question he can only begin to guess at. What he does know is Meropide in his time as an inmate was unlivable. Something had to give. ]
Then allow me to turn the question on you. Who's shown you kindness, Lyney? Humor me.
[ Goodness knows he's said enough about himself already. Lyney likely knows more about him than anyone else in the Fortress, now. And to think it came so easily...if he's made a mistake in showing his cards to a magician, he'll swallow it down with some tea. ]
Father. She'd expect it – that loyalty burned into his very soul. A debt he owes because she saved Lynette when he couldn't. Taken in Freminet when he had no one else. Kept a house of throwaway children into a true home.
But, his words were quick, too much for his own lips. ]
Cesar.
[ He feels vulnerable. ]
Lynette. Freminet. My siblings. [ Noticeably last: ] Father.
[ Father. He still hasn't met Arlecchino, never did find a way to have that cup of tea with her. Any urgent need for it is done and over with by now, but he does wonder what insights she could give him about her darling Lyney that the boy won't forfeit himself. Or that the boy can't see for himself: we are often our own biggest blind spots, after all. ]
Oh? The same Father who sent you and your siblings here with no contingency plan to speak of?
[ His curiosities for her aside, he does have that small criticism to offer. How can he not? She sent children down to this place, then left them entirely at his mercy. Either she trusts him a great deal for a total stranger, or this kindness of hers only goes so far. ]
If I had been the cruel villain you'd pictured me as at the time, what would she have done? You weren't making any concessions back then, and Lynette was entirely in my hands. [ He doesn't mean to challenge Lyney, but he does know the topic is bound to be a contentious one. He softens his tone just a touch, keeps his manner easy. Don't turn this isn't a fight when it doesn't have to be one. ] ...Genuinely. You know her better than I do. From where I stand, I've never been able to figure out that Father of yours.
[ Lyney shifts in his seat, unable to hide how uncomfortable the topic makes him. He knows... better than to question Father. Father's request for loyalty was all she asked of them. It means something to the Knave, more than Lyney would understand. He's seen men slaughtered for slander, he's seen reputations in shambles for doubt – he wonders what would have happened to Lynette if Father was in any other mood after his 'betrayal' last month. Going off script... removing himself from her equation.
One of her children were gone and one of her operatives were unable to carry out his duties.
It gnaws at his own ego. Casts fear in his heart. ]
To doubt Father's way is to spit in her face, to slap her hand away after feeding us. She would have brought this place down to the pipes, ripped it apart for her children. I know she would have.
[ Would she...? ]
We all knew the risks when accepting our orders.
[ Lyney knows there is no other option though. They had to accept that order. ]
[ ...There's loyalty, and then there's this. Wriothesley remembers what it meant to obey his foster parents, what happened when he didn't. The things endured by his siblings who tried on defiance for themselves. He's not in the market for more avenues of comparison between them--no, he's had quite enough of those, pushes the thought down again knowing it'll rise to the surface later--and so he won't assume too much. But no amount of tea could displace the bad taste in his mouth left by Lyney's insistence. The Fatui really are an underhanded bunch. ]
That's 'Your Grace' to you. [ Said with all the urgency of relating the weather. He's not looking to heighten tensions between them--not now, when things are...simpler, for once. ] But, if you're certain of her convictions, then I have no reason to doubt you.
[ Assuming he is certain. Lyney is prone to sweetening his words when it suits him--this much Wriothesley knows, if not the extent of it--and no doubt he'd do it for someone who has him so firmly under her heel. But that's not for him to dissect, not now, over tea and late into the night. What Lyney says, Wriothesley will take. No matter how he doubts it inwardly. ]
Then, let me rephrase. [ So as not to spit in her face, as Lyney puts it. ] This Father of yours. How did she come to be the hand that feeds you, anyhow? Surely I'm allowed to ask.
[ Tension bubbles in his stomach and he hates it. Hates feeling nervous, weak. He remembers this feeling when the first 'performance' reviews came in with Father... how she scolded him to be better. To be worthy of the House. He remembers feeling this way stepping on stage, with Lynette at his side... unsure if the crowd would give them a second glance.
Two orphans, to lesser forms to the plight of Fontaine's own desperation for entertainment. ]
Your Grace. [ He repeats through grit teeth, swallowing down his own anger. There's nothing to be angry for. ...Right? Wriothesley is ignorant, in a bubble under the sea from the things he and his siblings have gone through.
He backs off but the rephrase hurts even more. It takes him a good minute to speak – legs crossed and leaning back. ]
... She saved Lynette when I couldn't. Kept men from touching her, ensured they'd never sully any other person against their will. [ He isn't apologetic about how he speaks of the dead. ] Gave us protection, care, a reason to not hate the world. Two orphans were worthy enough... to finally have a home. One built in trust, in loyalty, with food in hungry bellies every night.
[ All roads lead back to Lynette, it seems. The snippet of the letter returns to him just as he thinks it's been properly placed aside. That taken with this worry about men sullying her. These two are...close, even for twins. Such is his perception, anyway--maybe Lyney would deem that another path Wriothesley has no right to tread, and maybe he'd be right. He hardly remembers much about his own siblings. He's no brother, no protector of anyone's virtue.
What he can say with confidence is that the hand that feeds you--in a literal sense--is a powerful one indeed. Wriothesley's been hungry before. Been without. Is it any wonder the kid would risk life and limb for the Fatui? Wriothesley is only so lucky being in a position to detest the organization: had they found him at the right time and place, he'd probably have given them total allegiance, too. ]
Doubt can be a healthy thing, sometimes. [ Lyney has no shortage of it for those outside his circle, after all. ] But I can see where your devotion comes from all the same. I don't need an audience with her to ascertain that hers is a capable hand.
[ How can they not? She's the other half of his soul. The moon to his sun. His first love.
If Lynette wasn't saved by The Knave, he'd have no loyalty. He'd take Lynette far away from Fontaine – to Mondstadt or Liyue, over unsure waters to keep her safe. But, his debt to the Knave was deep. It was the opposite coin to Wriothesley in a way. What-ifs and different paths...
Oh, what could have been. ]
She wanted to stop the prophecy just as much as our Archon. As you or anyone else in a position of power. [ And of course, his admittance falls soft. ] I already disobeyed her... It was my choice to burn that cabin to the ground.
[ Privately, he's wondered about that: Lyney being here, Lyney eventually being freed. The life he'll go back to above the waves. Wriothesley doesn't make a habit of it to pry into the Fatui's affairs, but he has eyes and ears out and about, ones that have observed none other than Lyney and this family he holds in such high regard. Based on what's been related to him, there's practically no way Lyney serves his sentence and returns to nothing but warm welcomes and fanfare. In other words...what will his punishment be, having strayed beneath the waves? ]
Those who disobey in Meropide have the opportunity to redeem themselves, up to a point. [ Gently: ] What of those who disobey in the House of Hearth?
[ It was different. Those that betrayed Father were betraying the Knave. To his knowledge, there was never a child of hers that betrayed the House of Hearth. They knew better. Their loyalty comparable to his own. The discomfort in his eyes was clear, once brilliant and now dulled and glossy.
Why is this man prodding?
Why is he asking of things they can't change? ]
...I don't know.
[ There's no way that Father would turn on them. ...He has to keep telling himself that. ]
[ What he expects is more sugar-coating, or else more defense of a world inherently indefensible. What he gets is a surprising show of vulnerability. No veneer of charm, no promises of any great escape, no assurances of Father's good judgement even in the face of a blatant misstep. Just a look in Lyney's eyes that speaks so much louder than cleverly crafted words. ]
Not knowing can be worse than having some idea. They say it only helps so much to brace yourself for a punch, but I like the blows I see coming a lot more than the ones that take me by surprise.
[ It's the closest thing he can give to reassurance when he doesn't know, either. And can't protect him from whatever the outcome might be. Should he ask again? For an audience with her, an opportunity to recommend mercy if a Harbinger has any to spare? He suspects Lyney's pride wouldn't allow for such a thing. ]
[ He can't do this. To question Father was blasphemy, it was a disgrace. Father had kept their family safe, ensured nothing would ever harm them... that they weren't just lost to the shadows and darkness in the world. They pay their prices, like everything else in the world – but that safety.
Oh, his Lynette...
Up to his feet he goes, dusting at his hips idly. ]
Whatever awaits me on the surface is what is suitable. My time here is by Fontaine's jurisdiction and judgment. My time returning to the House... Father's judgment will be just as well.
[ Lyney is fully aware of his 'betrayal', the risk of putting the House down its best operative. It ruins Father's plans and puts things at risk. It was his fault, but he'd choose Lynette's safety time and time again.
...Father couldn't save her this time.
He gives a curt nod to Wriothesley, his stomach tight with a forced smile. ]
[ Reassurance doesn't always work as intended, Wriothesley knows--but an unknowable pang of something flits momentarily in his chest as Lyney backs off. Maybe he's said too much, or too little, or maybe it's simple unease that reasserts itself between them. Whatever it is, the boy is done with this conversation. Wriothesley won't keep him.
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no subject
The more Wriothesley talks, the more Lyney settles. Eyes shut, back to the chair and his heart settling from anxiousness.
There's a similarity, he thinks of how well people spoke of him and Lynette. Ulterior motives that he's sure Wriothesley have no clue of for his own life too. What paths they walked... different, but similar. He never got a chance to kill the ones that hurt Lynette – Father did and deep down, he is still bitter about it. ]
Life has a funny way to guide you. I’m sure you never would have chose this for yourself, would you?
[ Another question, another echo. He never wanted to be the Knave — but it saves his siblings from being groomed or the other House orphans from being trained. Lyney took the heavy brunt of work, sinned and let his hands bloody too.
He once told the traveler all he did was fib and oh, how that lie stung. ]
Rotten people deserve to be lost to the world. Squandering chances no one has but them… it’s a bit sick. The land of justice turned its eyes to those who deserved it. Who are we to blame? The people, our Archon, our order? No. I blame no one, but we took comfort in people that showed us kindness and allowed us to make choices. For better or worse, that was a luxury denied from us.
no subject
Then allow me to turn the question on you. Who's shown you kindness, Lyney? Humor me.
[ Goodness knows he's said enough about himself already. Lyney likely knows more about him than anyone else in the Fortress, now. And to think it came so easily...if he's made a mistake in showing his cards to a magician, he'll swallow it down with some tea. ]
no subject
It should.
Father. She'd expect it – that loyalty burned into his very soul. A debt he owes because she saved Lynette when he couldn't. Taken in Freminet when he had no one else. Kept a house of throwaway children into a true home.
But, his words were quick, too much for his own lips. ]
Cesar.
[ He feels vulnerable. ]
Lynette. Freminet. My siblings. [ Noticeably last: ] Father.
no subject
Oh? The same Father who sent you and your siblings here with no contingency plan to speak of?
[ His curiosities for her aside, he does have that small criticism to offer. How can he not? She sent children down to this place, then left them entirely at his mercy. Either she trusts him a great deal for a total stranger, or this kindness of hers only goes so far. ]
If I had been the cruel villain you'd pictured me as at the time, what would she have done? You weren't making any concessions back then, and Lynette was entirely in my hands. [ He doesn't mean to challenge Lyney, but he does know the topic is bound to be a contentious one. He softens his tone just a touch, keeps his manner easy. Don't turn this isn't a fight when it doesn't have to be one. ] ...Genuinely. You know her better than I do. From where I stand, I've never been able to figure out that Father of yours.
no subject
[ Lyney shifts in his seat, unable to hide how uncomfortable the topic makes him. He knows... better than to question Father. Father's request for loyalty was all she asked of them. It means something to the Knave, more than Lyney would understand. He's seen men slaughtered for slander, he's seen reputations in shambles for doubt – he wonders what would have happened to Lynette if Father was in any other mood after his 'betrayal' last month. Going off script... removing himself from her equation.
One of her children were gone and one of her operatives were unable to carry out his duties.
It gnaws at his own ego. Casts fear in his heart. ]
To doubt Father's way is to spit in her face, to slap her hand away after feeding us. She would have brought this place down to the pipes, ripped it apart for her children. I know she would have.
[ Would she...? ]
We all knew the risks when accepting our orders.
[ Lyney knows there is no other option though. They had to accept that order. ]
no subject
That's 'Your Grace' to you. [ Said with all the urgency of relating the weather. He's not looking to heighten tensions between them--not now, when things are...simpler, for once. ] But, if you're certain of her convictions, then I have no reason to doubt you.
[ Assuming he is certain. Lyney is prone to sweetening his words when it suits him--this much Wriothesley knows, if not the extent of it--and no doubt he'd do it for someone who has him so firmly under her heel. But that's not for him to dissect, not now, over tea and late into the night. What Lyney says, Wriothesley will take. No matter how he doubts it inwardly. ]
Then, let me rephrase. [ So as not to spit in her face, as Lyney puts it. ] This Father of yours. How did she come to be the hand that feeds you, anyhow? Surely I'm allowed to ask.
no subject
Two orphans, to lesser forms to the plight of Fontaine's own desperation for entertainment. ]
Your Grace. [ He repeats through grit teeth, swallowing down his own anger. There's nothing to be angry for. ...Right? Wriothesley is ignorant, in a bubble under the sea from the things he and his siblings have gone through.
He backs off but the rephrase hurts even more. It takes him a good minute to speak – legs crossed and leaning back. ]
... She saved Lynette when I couldn't. Kept men from touching her, ensured they'd never sully any other person against their will. [ He isn't apologetic about how he speaks of the dead. ] Gave us protection, care, a reason to not hate the world. Two orphans were worthy enough... to finally have a home. One built in trust, in loyalty, with food in hungry bellies every night.
[ That was long ago, however. ]
I've never doubted her.
[ He lies, it's what he does best. ]
no subject
What he can say with confidence is that the hand that feeds you--in a literal sense--is a powerful one indeed. Wriothesley's been hungry before. Been without. Is it any wonder the kid would risk life and limb for the Fatui? Wriothesley is only so lucky being in a position to detest the organization: had they found him at the right time and place, he'd probably have given them total allegiance, too. ]
Doubt can be a healthy thing, sometimes. [ Lyney has no shortage of it for those outside his circle, after all. ] But I can see where your devotion comes from all the same. I don't need an audience with her to ascertain that hers is a capable hand.
no subject
If Lynette wasn't saved by The Knave, he'd have no loyalty. He'd take Lynette far away from Fontaine – to Mondstadt or Liyue, over unsure waters to keep her safe. But, his debt to the Knave was deep. It was the opposite coin to Wriothesley in a way. What-ifs and different paths...
Oh, what could have been. ]
She wanted to stop the prophecy just as much as our Archon. As you or anyone else in a position of power. [ And of course, his admittance falls soft. ] I already disobeyed her... It was my choice to burn that cabin to the ground.
no subject
Those who disobey in Meropide have the opportunity to redeem themselves, up to a point. [ Gently: ] What of those who disobey in the House of Hearth?
no subject
Why is this man prodding?
Why is he asking of things they can't change? ]
...I don't know.
[ There's no way that Father would turn on them. ...He has to keep telling himself that. ]
no subject
Not knowing can be worse than having some idea. They say it only helps so much to brace yourself for a punch, but I like the blows I see coming a lot more than the ones that take me by surprise.
[ It's the closest thing he can give to reassurance when he doesn't know, either. And can't protect him from whatever the outcome might be. Should he ask again? For an audience with her, an opportunity to recommend mercy if a Harbinger has any to spare? He suspects Lyney's pride wouldn't allow for such a thing. ]
no subject
Oh, his Lynette...
Up to his feet he goes, dusting at his hips idly. ]
Whatever awaits me on the surface is what is suitable. My time here is by Fontaine's jurisdiction and judgment. My time returning to the House... Father's judgment will be just as well.
[ Lyney is fully aware of his 'betrayal', the risk of putting the House down its best operative. It ruins Father's plans and puts things at risk. It was his fault, but he'd choose Lynette's safety time and time again.
...Father couldn't save her this time.
He gives a curt nod to Wriothesley, his stomach tight with a forced smile. ]
The tea was delicious, by the way.
no subject
He straightens his tie, nodding small. ]
...Take care on your way back.