Chapter Text
The gelid water rushed to consume Freminet’s entire being, its numbing temperature seeping down into his bone marrow. Even though he flinched instinctively, being fully immersed in Fontaine’s waters was perhaps the most comforting experience, only second to being enveloped in his siblings’ arms.
His gasping breaths were deafening in the confines of his diving helmet. He grasped at it–-not to get it off, but rather to reassure himself it was still secured over his head. His knees curled to his chest, and he slowly sank towards the ocean floor, leaving behind a wispy trail of red. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, Freminet cared little for where the currents were taking him.
He felt so far away from his body, insurmountably far from everything but the pounding thoughts that were insistently chipping away at his sanity.
“N-no… Please! I-I have a family, a wife and child!”
The man target’s words were almost inaudible to Freminet, whose diving helmet cut out most outside sounds. Unfortunately, with the target hanging off of his lapels, merely a breath away, the assassin could hear every desperate plea that slipped from the target’s lips.
“I swear to you, I’ll get the Fatui their money! I just need a little more time, please! ”
Freminet robotically wrapped his stiff hands around the other’s, unhooking the target’s fingers from where they had a death grip on the fabric of Freminet’s collar. The target fell backwards, barely managing to catch himself before his head hit the hardwood floors of his very own mansion.
The target’s eyes were blown so wide it was a miracle his eyeballs didn’t just fall out of their sockets. Freminet morbidly wondered if the target could see himself in the reflection of Freminet’s diving helmet; if he could see what would be his last moments, or the utter terror engraved in every crevice and crease of his face.
“Um! My-My daughter, she just turned three. She’s s-so smart already, I always j-joke that she’s the complete opposite of me. And my wife! My wife is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, from the start I knew I didn’t deserve her.”
Freminet’s hand, which was reaching for the claymore strapped to his back, paused. The assassin’s halting movement seemed to spur the man on.
“Growing up, I didn’t have anything, you know? My mother was just some whore trying to make ends meet and my dad was a no-good deadbeat. I worked as a servant for some ill lord, he was so kind to me, called me ‘son’. I-I would wait until he was asleep until stuffing his valuables in my rucksack, including his late-wife’s wedding ring. I think he noticed, and knew it was me, but he never said anything. Finally, after he died, I-I snuck back into his estate and gave everything back, hoping maybe I could absolve myself from some sin. But that petty thievery was nothing compared to what I would do when I got older…”
Freminet’s knees nearly gave out on him. Hearing a story so similar yet so different from his own… He dug his blunt fingernails into the palms of his hands, hoping the tiny pinpricks of pain would stop his mind from spiraling with thoughts of his mother.
“I did time in the Fortress of Meropide, more than once, actually. I thought I was reformed, can you believe that? But then a Fatui agent approached me and… I never intended to con you guys in the first place, okay? I just… I knew that my hands were getting too drenched in blood, that with each luxury I enjoyed, the sins marring my soul only grew. Eventually, I knew if I didn’t get out then I would be damned to the Abyss, and I’m a selfish, cowardly bastard. But I swear on my wife and daughter that I was working to pay all my debts back …Do you believe me?”
Truth be told, Freminet cared little for the money the man owed the Fatui. He was only carrying out orders. He only obeyed because, after all, what would be the point of his existence in this world if not for his complete obedience to “Father”?
His hands fell limply at his sides, claymore still fastened to his back.
He was a monster, a heartless killer, a stain upon Teyvat. Yet, to kill this man, this man who talked so fondly of his family, who spoke of a childhood so similar to his own…
To kill him would be to kill a part of himself.
He slowly stepped back, feet unsteady. Bile burned his throat at the pure relief plastered on the man’s face.
“Th-thank you! Thank you, thank y–”
BANG!
The man fell face-down as a bullet ripped through his skull. Chunks of brain and flesh exploded from the wound and blood splattered everywhere, painting both the walls and Freminet in its rich crimson.
Freminet slowly looked up, away from the body–-oh Archons, the man’s eyes were still staring unerringly at him–-and saw one of “Father’s” Frost Operatives. Smoke wafted from the nozzle of the gun in her hand as she lowered it.
“I see I will have a very interesting story to report to the Knave,” she lilted and, even though her mask was covering the upper part of her face, he knew her eyes were boring into him.
“How shall I spin it? ‘You see, Madame Arlecchino, the little assassin you sent out to eliminate Antoine-–yes, the man who has stolen millions of Mora from the Fatui–-could not complete the mission. Why? The target begged for his life and–-get this–-the pathetic boy actually fell for it!”
The Frost Operative let out a fake, mocking chuckle, and Freminet balled his hands into fists. Not because he was planning on fighting her, no, but because he loathed himself immensely.
Underneath her words, he could hear the real message.
You’re weak. Useless. So, so damn useless that it’s a wonder you’re even kept around. You disrespect “Father” by being such a burden. Honestly, it’s a wonder why she hasn’t just dug her claws into your–-
Freminet could feel the tell-tale signs of tears beginning to well in his eyes. He blinked them back, berating himself for being so weak.
“Nothing to say? Hm, I guess you won’t mind if I’m the one to report back to the Knave, then.” She threw her gun to the ground, the weapon knocking into the lifeless foot of Antoine. The pool of blood beneath him had greatly expanded. Had Freminet been standing there for so long already, or was the wound so gaping that it bled that profusely?
“Clean this up, child. If this is tied back to the Fatui, it will be a diplomatic nightmare. Try to do at least this correctly, please.”
With that, she sauntered back into the shadows, and Freminet’s legs finally gave out.
As the memory receded, Freminet rapidly blinked and scanned his surroundings. He had gotten so immersed in the flashback that he had almost entirely forgotten where he was.
He was still steadily sinking and, judging by how dark the waters had become, he was deep in the ocean now. Deep enough that only a few slivers of sunlight managed to pierce through the surface. He slowly unfurled himself, wincing at how sore his hands were from the death grip he had on his legs.
It would certainly take him quite a while to get to the surface, he reckoned, and even then he barely remembered where he had plunged into the water anyways.
Lyney and Lynette were going to kill him, if hypothermia and lack of oxygen didn’t first.
He gave a few weak kicks of his legs, before stilling again. What would be the point, really? By now, the Frost Operative had surely reported his failings to “Father,” who would be utterly disappointed in him. She’d probably prefer it if he didn’t make it back home.
His siblings… well, they had each other. Freminet knew–-just like he knew which gear fit where in a clock and every word of every line in “ Pers the Penguin ”–-that they didn’t need him. He wasn’t their brother, not truly. Sure, they entertained him, cared for him, even, but when it came down to it, he was as replaceable as a broken piece of clockwork. At the end of the day, no matter how much he deluded himself into thinking his title as “little brother” meant something , he had to accept the fact that he didn’t belong. They were twins–-bound by blood, together from the very start of their lives-–and he was him, the pathetic boy they took under their wing because “Father” had grouped them together.
When his view became blurry, he realized he was crying. He ripped off his helmet and screamed, the sound barely carrying through the water. Tangling his fingers into this matted hair, he let himself sob (fully, gaspingly sob) for the first time in years. His tears washed away into the water as quickly as they came.
As he began catching his breath, he saw movement in the corner of his eye. With the sparse lighting, Freminet at first thought it was a figment of his imagination. But then he saw it again and his heart stopped.
It was a hulking shadow that barely had a form. As it approached him, though, he could make out more of it. A dragon, straight out of his favorite fairytales, was gracefully swimming towards him. Although its eyes were piercing, what caught Freminet’s attention were the two horns sprouting out of its head. They seemed to be surprisingly pliable with how they floated in the water, but most striking of all, was the illuminous, vibrant blue that they were pigmented with.
Freminet was entranced by the deadly beauty of the creature before him. When the dragon got close enough that its powerful swishes through the water jostled his body, he realized he should probably swim away.
He didn’t budge.
He couldn’t explain why he stayed there, essentially welcoming his gruesome death. Perhaps it was because death simply didn’t scare him, or maybe because the dragon was too resplendent to truly fear.
When it finally reached him, it circled him slowly, cautiously, yet kept a good bit of distance between them. As it reached his front again, its massive maw came right for his abdomen.
Freminet stiffened in anticipation, readying himself for sharp fangs to impale him, and slammed his eyes shut.
A gentle nudge against his stomach.
He peeled one eye open, the sight before him so surprising that his other eye shot open as well.
The dragon’s nose was pressed carefully against him, only just digging into his clothing. When he shifted his gaze upwards, he met the dragon’s eyes for the first time. They weren’t as striking of a color as its horns, but the intelligence they carried was striking in its own right. When Freminet only continued to stare, the dragon pressed its muzzle into him more, prompting him to look.
The entire front of his top was covered in blood, having permeated the fabric thoroughly enough that the water couldn’t wash it away. He trailed a finger along the path of a particularly large splatter, only a breath away from the massive jaws of the dragon.
“It isn’t mine,” he whispered, surprising both himself and the dragon. He wasn’t sure what made him speak–-he wasn’t even sure the dragon could understand him, anyway. His voice, even at a low volume, was scratchy and hoarse from disuse, and he cringed.
The dragon shocked him once again when it seemed to… nod? Its head jerked slightly up and down, and it backed away slightly from him.
“I…” he started, but quickly stopped. What was he going to say to a creature he had only just met, who couldn’t even speak? But when his eyes caught the dragon’s again, something about the understanding in them, the earnestness, caused words to come tumbling out.
“I didn’t… I didn’t hurt him, even though I was supposed to,” he murmured. “He had a f-family and I… well of course other targets probably had families, too, but…” he swallowed and his eyes fluttered shut. “I’m just a weak, weak fool. An embarrassment. But is it bad that I don’t even regret disobeying my orders?”
The last question came out much quieter than the rest and his head drooped. A huff of air from the dragon caused bubbles to spew at him, and his lips almost curled up into a smile.
“I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m no good at anything, really. Somedays I wish I could dissolve into the water, like the prophecy says. Then… then I wouldn’t have to feel like this.” He sniffled and whimpered, absently beginning to stroke the dragon’s muzzle. He felt the scales twitch under his fingertips, but the dragon did nothing to dissuade his shaky hands.
“You’re probably just a hallucination, huh? I’ve been down here long enough that I’ll probably pass out soon. At least, of all things I could hallucinate, it’s you.”
The dragon’s nose prodded at him, but he could feel his mind becoming fuzzy. His caresses along the dragon’s dark blue scales became half hearted and, without the strength to kick his legs, he began to sink again.
As he lost consciousness, he felt a mouth gently cradle him, and he figured there were certainly worse ways to die.
;
Freminet woke up slowly, feeling as if his mind was wading through molasses. As his eyes flickered open, he shifted his head to the side, feebly attempting to dodge the bright light shining down on him.
He began taking stock of where he was. Supple sand, a crab scurrying away from him, the faint sound of water lapping at the shoreline…
It was a beach, that much he could be certain of.
As he turned his head to the other side, he saw his diving helmet laying in the sand just as he was.
Had he washed up?
Trying to remember what had happened, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed at his eyes.
The failed mission. Diving. Sinking. The dragon…
He scrambled to his feet and ran towards the water. He barely noticed his hat slipping off and falling to the ground with a dull thump.
The dragon!
He stared into the distance to where the water’s refracting surface met the horizon. It had to have all been a hallucination, right? A farce his dying brain made up in order to ease him into death. But if that was the case, how did he end up on shore? Alive, at that.
He kneeled in the damp sand and dug his fingers into it.
The rational part of his brain insisted that the dragon couldn’t possibly be real (surely it would be common knowledge if a huge, majestic dragon inhabited Fontaine’s waters), but the part that still held on so valiantly to the fairytales he loved to read reassured him that his encounter with the dragon had actually happened.
The latter part of his brain gained merit when, looking down at his abdomen, there were several holes in his clothes. The holes revealed relatively small cuts that, as he brushed a fingertip along one, hardly hurt.
The dragon enveloping him in its mouth as his mind faded…
Though he hadn’t seen the dragon’s teeth, the size of the holes and wounds could surely line up with the size of them, right?
He pressed the heel of his palm into his forehead and sighed.
First things first, he needed to get back home. He didn’t know how long it had been, but the last thing he wanted was for the Fatui to think he had deserted. And his siblings…
As he got to his feet and gathered up his diving helmet and hat, it started to rain.