The moon hung low over Fontaine, casting silver light upon the rippling waters of the city’s canals. The air smelled of salt and fresh rain, a comforting blend that reminded you of the woman beside you—Furina, the ever-radiant Hydro Archon, who, despite her usual dramatic flair, was uncharacteristically quiet tonight.

You sat together on the marble steps of the Opera Epiclese, watching as the water below reflected the night sky. Furina had insisted on this late-night outing, claiming that “a grand affair such as ours deserves a backdrop of utmost magnificence.” You knew the truth, though. She simply wanted an excuse to spend time alone with you, away from the ever-watchful eyes of Fontaine’s citizens.

Her gloved fingers intertwined with yours, the warmth of her touch grounding you. “Tell me, ma chérie,” she murmured, voice carrying a soft lilt, “do you think the stars envy us?”

You turned to her, raising an amused brow. “Envy us?”

Furina leaned in slightly, a playful glint in her ocean-blue eyes. “Bien sûr! They spend eternity shining above the world, watching lovers reunite and destinies intertwine, yet they can never feel the warmth of an embrace, nor hear the sweet words of affection whispered between two souls.” She sighed dramatically, resting her head against your shoulder. “Tragic, non?”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Then let’s give them something to admire.”

Furina’s breath hitched for just a moment before she lifted her head, meeting your gaze. For all her theatrics and grandeur, there were moments—rare, precious moments—when she let down her walls. When her bravado softened into something more vulnerable, more real.

“I adore you,” she whispered, her fingers tightening around yours. “Not just as a fleeting fancy, not as a mere spectacle for the world to see. You are… everything.”

Your heart swelled at her words. Furina, who so often performed for others, was offering you something genuine, something unpolished and true.