*~To The Stars Shining In The Depths~*

[worcestershiresauce]

{None game PSLS}

Comments

[backstreetbard]

A year and a day.

In Fódlan, it has long been traditional for engagements to be set for that span of time.

In Teyvat, it has been set as the term of her incarceration in the Fortress of Meropide.

It retrospect, it was a mistake coming to Fontaine--she can see that now--but it had seemed like such a good idea when she'd been planning her vacation. She's heard so much about the beauty of the land of Hydro, heard of all the fascinating technology used in its cities, and it seemed to her like a crying shame for everyone to believe that it's the nation of her birth when she's never laid eyes on it herself.

Yes, yes, she's led everyone in Mondstadt to believe she was born in Fontaine, that she performed on its stages when she was younger, and she's fortunate that the people here are largely so trusting and that it's such a hassle to verify these sorts of claims. The only person who knew the truth was the Cavalry Captain, and only because he'd been the first one to meet her and he's as crafty as a fox. She'd asked him if there was a bank in town where she could exchange her coin for the local currency and he'd played along for the rest of the afternoon, deflecting that the nearest bank that could service her request was the next nation over, taking her to dinner and subtly plying her for information. It was something of an engaging back-and-forth while it lasted, her answers always charming but evasive until he finally confronted her about her true origins and admitted that there was only one currency in the whole of the known world. Fortunately for Dorothea, she wasn't the first off-worlder to appear in Teyvat, and the last one was a personal friend of his, and Kaeya was perceptive enough to see that she wasn't a threat to his town or its inhabitants. He helped her craft a new identity--still Dorothea Arnault, but now she was Dorothea from Fontaine, not Dorothea from Enbarr. He helped her gain Mondstadtan citizenship after learning more about her, how unlike the Traveler, she had no desire for grand adventures after surviving five years of war and a lifetime of hardships. All she wanted was a safe and quiet place to live and work that wouldn't put her in harm's way. She became a clerk for Ordo Favonius, helping with the mountains of paperwork that seemed to constantly bog down the acting grandmaster and cracking the whip on the more indolent Knights where the higher-ups wouldn't. It was a huge help to everyone, relieving a bit of the pressure that the overworked captains felt. After days of paperwork and delegation, she would sometimes slip into a slinky dress to go and perform at the Angel's Share for a small fee and all the tips she could collect.

It was not a bad life, but Dorothea could admit that it was monotonous after the constant ups-and-downs of the war. That's what gave her the idea to travel. The Knights could be without her for a few days while she explored the parts of Teyvat she'd heard of but never gotten to see. She books passage to Fontaine, books a room at a waterside inn, packs her bag and goes.

It doesn't happen immediately upon her arrival. No, they wait until she's settled into her waterfront room, wait until she's out and about, sitting under an umbrella at a streetside café and sipping a cup of sweet, fruity tea before the garde approaches her and asks her to come with him in a tone that makes it clear it is not a request. She's blindsided when they finally lay their accusations at her feet: identity fraud and forgery of official legal documents. As it happens, the Mondstadtan citizenship papers that she'd signed had required proof of live birth--something they wouldn't have even been able to obtain for her in Fódlan given the nature of her parentage, much less in Teyvat--and so Kaeya had simply created such a document for her and had someone in his network of informants slip it in at the court in such a way that it could never be traced back to him. If she'd stayed away, if she'd kept to her routine, if she'd decided to visit fucking Sumeru instead, she would have been fine, but now in a rather cruel twist of irony, the things that had been done without her knowledge to protect her were now coming back around to put her very directly in the line of fire.

Her day in court is a nightmare. The Archon--God of Justice (so called)--and her Iudex stare down at Dorothea from on high, and the people of Fontaine sneer at her from the audience; she doesn't answer their questions, can't answer them when they ask her who she is and where she's from. She denies having a hand in the forgery, but she won't give up the names of those who might be responsible. It's a non-starter, so she's not surprised when their machine delivers its verdict: guilty, guilty, guilty.

It's raining when she's escorted back to the water's edge, but not to her cozy room at the inn she'd booked but the austere entrance to the prison where she will live for the next 366 days. As appropriate as the rain feels, she wishes she could feel the sun on her face one last time before she's taken down into the Fortress' belly. She doesn't cry--hasn't cried through this whole affair--but her hands tremble as she's processed in, as she's brought to her cell, as the gardes look down on her as if she'd murdered someone in cold blood. It's almost more than she can manage. It's almost like she's back on the streets of Enbarr.

They put her to work the morning after her arrival, but it's clear after a few hours that she's not suited to manual labor. She'll be assigned other work, she's informed as she's given a handful of coupons for her effort. After rinsing off in a communal shower (only marginally better than the fountains of her youth), she finds her way to the kitchen for a meal that tastes like dust.

The rest of the day is free time, so Dorothea wanders, avoiding the other prisoners as much as possible but observing where they go. It leads her, ultimately, to the Pankration Ring, where men and women have gathered to watch their fellow inmates fight each other and even machines. It's a brutal display, but it reaches a violent climax when two prisoners as burly as wild boars tear into one another with devastating kicks and punches. The fight reaches a fever pitch, the audience shouting for their favorites, and Dorothea is getting up to leave when a flash of gray and burgundy vaults into the ring with a command to 'break it up, you two.'

It's over in a matter of seconds, the two combatants rendered unconscious by the man who now stands above them. A spattering of blood drips down his cheek--not his blood, she notes--and he hops down from the platform once the ring attendants start climbing up to deal with the incapacitated fighters.

From across the room, their eyes meet as he scans the audience, and Dorothea feels an icy jab of fear pierce her heart. He turns to speak to the nearby garde and she's gone in a flash, bolting from the arena as fast as her legs can carry her.

[worcestershiresauce]

It wasn't often that Wriothesley had to come down to the Pankration Ring. He'd retired a few years ago after he almost messed up his shoulder but that was something only Sigewinne really knew. He'd been working on watching himself since, a nasty scar was left from that aftermath on his right arm stretching from his armpit to his shoulder. It was one of many scar that littered Wriothesley's body, something he oft wore with pride when he used to go to the Prison's little gym like area to train on his off times from work.

It still felt like yesterday that he was just a prisoner himself. Now he was the man getting the new dossier of inmates coming in on the daily. Lately more and more women were being sent to the prison under the sea it seemed. It still didn't rival the number of men but it was enough that Wriothesley had started to take some new measures for them. A criminal was still a criminal but he wasn't going to let them go without any safety measures. The first order of business is he had designated one of the bathing areas and rest rooms for women only. It was only one spot in the entirety of the prison for now but it was a start at least. His next project was getting doors in some of the rooms for the women, he really didn't want to have actual bars used. It seemed barbaric even for his reputation.

That was all things he rather be focusing on instead of two idiots beating the shit out of each other. Seperating them was the easy part, knocking them out was a bit more messy. He lets out a sigh as he takes the two of them, dragging them by the collars of their shirts to the edge of the ring for the attendants to take care of from there. It's easy to climb down the ring and when he does he heads towards one of his garde's to grab a napkin to wipe his face clean.

It's then that he happens to look into the crowd and though he isn't looking to see anyone in particular his eyes meet with a face he's never seen before. He pauses, staring at the vision away from him. He has to squint a little to see her and what he thinks he sees does take his breath away but also causes his face to look a bit rough in the process. He's about to walk towards her to get her name but one of his garde's calls for him and he turns, taking the napkin and dabbing his face. It's only a moment he looks away and when he turns back she's already gone without a trace.

"...we had some inmates come in earlier today, right? I want a report of them all on my desk immediately." He starts to head back to the rink to help get rid of the crowd but stops and turns back to the same garde for a moment. "And some hot water for my tea, please."

With that he helps cleaning up the mess and when he gets to his chambers he finds a neat stack of folders on his desk. He hurries through them, looking to see if any of them remind him of that woman he saw earlier and he's almost done with them and about to give up when one falls from his desk into his lap. He picks it up, the file reading 'Arnault, Dorothea.' He opens it and a smirk appears on his face, grinning nearly ear to ear. "Found you."

[backstreetbard]

It's two days before Dorothea is approached by one of the gardes. She's done what's expected of her, worked the jobs she's been asked to work until her body ached, ate her meals and slept, so she doesn't know what the man could want when he picks her out of the crowd.

"His Grace wants you in his office," the garde says, and Dorothea balks.

"I'm hardly presentable."

"He didn't specify that you be presentable."

"Then he also didn't specify that I should come in smelling like engine grease, either. Give me a few moments to freshen up and I'll be right along."

Perhaps he's not used to that kind of audacity, or maybe he's not paid enough to care, but he sighs and waves her off. Dorothea bathes as quickly as possible, slipping into the clean(ish) skirt and blouse she's been provided and returning to the guard as promised. She has no cosmetics herebut her skin is clean and her hair combed neatly. First impressions are important, after all.

At the door to the office in the heart of the Fortress, the garde stands back and nods his head. Dorothea still hasn't figured out all the protocols of this place, but when presented with a door, you knock.

As soon as a voice from within beckons her to enter, Dorothea squares her shoulders and holds her head high, as if it were her office she's about to walk into.

"I understand that my presence was requested?" she calls out breezily, closing the door behind her and casting her eyes around until they land on the man behind the desk. Oh. He's the warden--the man who had so easily disarmed those combatants the other day. What could he want her for? She hadn't done anything wrong.

"Is there something I can do for you?" she asks, her fear only evident in the fact that she stays by the door until he summons her forward.

[worcestershiresauce]

It takes longer than Wriothesley was hoping for with the woman to arrive. In the time her to come up he had made a cup of tea for both of them as well as listened to an entire record before he hears a knock at the door. It's just in time too, he was about to send another garde to look for her and make sure she was alright. He's very curious to see what took her so long.

With the knock he bellows an "Enter" for her. Of course since it is a lady coming into his room he stands before the door even opens. It's only proper. He was going to pull out her chair for her but the moment she walks in his breath seems to get caught in his throat. Her pictures was stunning, but no camera could do her justice. She was curvy, so very curvy but that wasn't what caught his attention first. The way those darkened locks framed her face and made her light colored eyes stand out even more entranced him. He just stood there, saying nothing as she closed the door behind her.

The noise of the heavy door is what snapped him out of it and he had to physically shake his head a little before pointing to the seat in front of his desk.

"Please." His voice almost cracks before he clears his throat and tries to regain his usual cool composure. She's not even directly in front of him yet and already he's having a hard time. He's never felt this strongly about someone with just a glance before, it's a little terrifying.

"I wish to speak with you, have a seat. I promise I won't bite." Adjusting his tie he reaches for the tea kettle and places it near her seat along with a cup of tea that's still warm for her. "I hope you don't mind a chat over tea. I find it very relaxing in good company."

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea hesitates for just a moment before she comes forward and takes the seat indicated across from the man clad in gray. The closer she gets, the more obvious it becomes that this is one of the biggest men she's ever seen. Dedue, perhaps, had been taller, but not by much. He's broad and muscular, too--even the fur collar of the coat he has draped over his shoulders adds to the appearance of his bulk. Everything about him is imposing, surely by design. No one looks like this on accident.

He doesn't command her, though. He says please when he points to the chair. That's a good sign, isn't it?

"I love a nice cup of tea," she says, smoothing her skirt over her thighs and crossing her legs primly at the ankle. "I used to make my own before I could afford the good quality of tea. If you dry out apple peels and mint, it can make a very nice blend."

That's not what he called her in to talk about, though, and she knows that. Even so, she takes the cup in her hands, holding it delicately.

"Forgive my tardiness. Your garde caught me at the end of my work shift, so I decided I'd risk making you wait a moment while I freshened up. I hope you won't think ill of me, but a lady has to maintain her hygiene." She watches him as she takes a sip of tea, trying to figure out what he's thinking.

"What was it you wished to speak with me about, Monsieur?"

[worcestershiresauce]

He can't tell exactly what color her eyes are as she comes closer. He thinks they could be blue but there is a hue there he can't see that makes him think maybe they have some green in them. It's such a shame he can't see their true color but even so he's not sure he'd want to right now. Those eyes hold fear and timidness, nothing that deserves to be on her pretty face.

With her finally sitting he takes his own seat back down, no longer towering over her. "Hm?" He asks for a moment forgetting why he even called her here. "Yes, I was reading some of the files for the new inmates and yours caught my eye." It's not all that caught his eye but he isn't going to say that.

He lists his own cup of tea to his lips, it's nice how knowledgeable she is on tea. He'll have to remember that for later. "The tardiness is forgiven, don't fret over it and thank you for the tea suggestion. I'd love to discuss other teas another time perhaps."

The cup is placed down as they lock eyes. "Do you know what part of your file might have caught my eye, Mademoiselle?"

[backstreetbard]

If he asked her what color her eyes were, she'd tell him that a bard in Mondstadt had called them 'anemo green' and she'd been absolutely charmed by that description. His eyes are very obviously blue, though, and a rather frosty shade, at that.

The tea is good, at least. She can tell that it's a good quality leaf, that it was brewed at a good temperature and not allowed to steep for too long, that it was sweetened just to the perfect level.

"I can hardly imagine," she says between sips. "I wouldn't think there would be anything interesting at all in my file."

[worcestershiresauce]

Despite his rather frosty exterior as a whole he is trying to be cordial and kind in his own way, a small smile appearing on his face when she sips the tea.

"Your story doesn't make sense, not what's written down in this file anyway." He leans back, taking his own cup of tea against his lips before putting it down and crossing his arms over his chest, the buttons on his vest almost starting to strain.

"I'll cut to the chase, I don't think you belong here. I think you're innocent." He tries not to look her over though it is very tempting to take in every detail of her curves and person. "Obviously a forgery was committed but I don't think it was you. What I can't seem to figure out is why you are taking the fall for someone else. Is it a lover?"

[backstreetbard]

Dorothea acts perfectly nonchalant as Wriothesley points out the inconsistency of the story that landed her here in prison, but she nearly inhales her tea when he speculates as to the reason for her allowing herself to be incarcerated. She has to take a second to compose herself, clearing her throat as she sets her cup down.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I don't have any lovers at present." Even though it would make sense to assume she would be willing to do time in a lover's stead, Dorothea denies it firmly. It's true, too--she isn't romantically involved with anyone.

The truth is... sadder, actually, than being willing to take a punishment that should have gone to someone else. The truth is that the people who could have had a hand in forging those documents are indispensable, and she is not. It would have to have been someone in the Knights of Favonius--not Jean, she would never intentionally break the law--and given the fact that the majority of their numbers have been deployed for years on that expedition, the ones left remaining in positions of power are the ones whose work is necessary to keep Mondstadt running.

So. The math is simple. One of her friends forged the Fontainian birth certificate without her knowledge and got her to sign the citizenship paperwork, never expecting that the falsified documents to be uncovered. It was always possible, even if she didn't know it, and now that it's happened she has no way out without indicting one of her friends.

Ultimately, she made the call to face the consequences, knowing she's unimportant compared to the actual culprit. Mondstadt doesn't need her the way it needs them. No one does.

"Does the truth really matter in this case?" she asks. "I've already been convicted and sentenced. I don't think the court would appreciate you letting me go, even if you do think I'm innocent."