Ok this is the actual end guys ...
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Arlecchino strode through the icy halls of the hunted Palace, the weight of the Hydro Gnosis tucked away in the folds of her coat. The cold air stung her skin, biting through the layers of her uniform, but she didn't flinch. The towering walls of the palace, adorned with intricate carvings of Snezhnaya's history, were familiar to her—yet, today, they felt oppressive. The echo of her heels against the marble floors was the only sound accompanying her as she approached the meeting chamber of the Fatui Harbingers.

She pushed open the heavy, ornate doors to reveal the dimly lit room, where the most powerful figures in the Tsaritsa's regime had already gathered. The air was thick with tension, the kind that always simmered when so many egos were in one place. Each Harbinger held a different posture—some relaxed, others rigid, all calculating.

Pulcinella, the Fifth Harbinger, glanced up from a stack of papers, his small frame almost swallowed by the grand chair he sat in. Dottore, with his ever-present, disconcerting smile, observed her with interest from across the room, while Sandrone barely acknowledged her presence, engrossed in her own mechanical contraptions. Pierro, the First Harbinger, sat at the head of the long table, his gaze unreadable under the heavy fur of his cloak.

And then there was Columbina, leaning casually against a pillar with that eternal, lazy smile of hers, humming some soft melody as her gaze followed Arlecchino's every movement. Tartaglia
stood to the side, arms crossed, his lips twisted in a smirk, as though he'd been waiting for this moment.

As Arlecchino approached the table, she reached into her coat and revealed the Hydro Gnosis, setting it on the table before Pierro with a quiet, deliberate motion. The glimmering blue orb reflected the pale light of the room, its power unmistakable.

Pierro's eyes flickered down to the Gnosis, but his expression remained stoic. "I trust the mission was successful," he said, his voice low and commanding.

Arlecchino nodded once, her hands resting calmly at her sides. She didn't offer any further explanation. The silence in the room was deafening, but she was used to it—used to the weight of expectation that followed every move she made within the Fatui.

Columbina was the first to break the silence. She pushed herself off the pillar and walked slowly toward the table, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge as she circled it, her eyes never leaving Arlecchino. "The Gnosis... a rare prize, indeed," she said in a soft, singsong voice, her tone almost teasing. "Focalors must have put up quite the fight."

Arlecchino's expression didn't change. She kept her gaze forward, but there was a slight tension in her jaw. Columbina's steps were light as she circled closer, her presence like a shadow looming just out of reach.

"How does it feel, I wonder, to hold the power of a god in your hands?" Columbina mused, her smile deepening as she leaned slightly closer. "You, of all people, should understand the weight of such responsibility. After all, you're no stranger to power, are you?"

Arlecchino remained silent, her eyes narrowing just slightly. Columbina's smile softened, and for a moment, her playful demeanor faded. She stood upright, her tone taking on a more serious edge. "But power, dear Knave.., is nothing without purpose. Have you figured out what you'll do with yours?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper, laced with curiosity.

The room was still as Columbina's question hung in the air. Arlecchino's hand brushed the side of her leg, but she didn't respond immediately. She looked away from Columbina and instead focused on Pierro, who had been watching the exchange in silence.

Before Pierro could speak, Tartaglia, standing against the far wall, let out a dry chuckle. "Power... responsibility... What a joke." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, his smirk growing wider. "Let's not kid ourselves. The only reason you're ranked so high is because of that curse you carry." His tone was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. "It's not like you've ever experienced real grief. Not like the rest of us." He gestured around the room, then jabbed a thumb toward himself. "Your so heartless that you killed your only friend just to be on top"

Arlecchino didn't react immediately. She turned her head slowly to look at Tartaglia, her gaze cold and unflinching. The silence that followed his words stretched on, thick and tense. For a moment, it seemed as if the entire room held its breath, waiting for her response.

But she said nothing. She simply stood there, her hand still resting on the the side of her, her face betraying none of the emotions that might have been churning beneath the surface. Her silence, in and of itself, was an answer. She didn't rise to Tartaglia's taunts, didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, she held her ground, her presence a cold, immovable force.

Columbina, ever the mediator, hummed softly again, her voice cutting through the tension. "Tartaglia, dear," she said in a sing-song voice, her eyes drifting lazily toward him. "You forget, grief manifests in many forms. Not all of us wear grief on our sleeves."

Tartaglia snorted, but he didn't push further. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, his smirk faltering slightly as he crossed his arms again, content to watch the rest of the exchange in silence.

Pierro finally spoke, his voice breaking the stillness that had settled over the room. "The Hydro Gnosis is ours now," he said, his tone authoritative. "What happens next is for the Tsaritsa to decide." He looked around at the gathered Harbingers, his gaze lingering on each of them in turn before settling on Arlecchino. "You've done well, Knave. The mission is complete."

Arlecchino nodded once, her movements stiff and controlled, before stepping back from the table. Her eyes flickered briefly toward the angel, who was watching her with that same soft, knowing smile.

As the meeting began to dissolve and the Harbingers turned their attention elsewhere, Columbina caught Arlecchino's arm gently as she passed. Her touch was light, almost imperceptible, but it stopped Arlecchino in her tracks.

"Careful, dear," Columbina whispered, her voice low so only Arlecchino could hear. "You might not show it, but I know when something weighs on your mind." She leaned in just a fraction closer, her breath warm against Arlecchino's ear. "If you need clarity, I'm always here. But you already know what you want, don't you?"

Arlecchino didn't answer. She stared ahead, her face as impassive as ever, but there was a tension in her shoulders that hadn't been there before. Columbina, ever perceptive, smiled softly and released her arm, stepping back with a graceful bow of her head.

"Good luck," she murmured, her tone a strange mix of sincerity and amusement. "It seems you'll need it."

Without another word, Arlecchino continued her silent exit, the faint clink of her heels against the cold marble floor fading as she disappeared into the shadows of the palace halls.

The Gnosis was theirs. But what it meant for her, for the Fatui, for Snezhnaya—those were questions that lingered, unanswered, as the icy winds of the cold palace howled through the corridors,echoing a cry that rang through the cold,white night.

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Arlecchino returned to the House of the Hearth in silence, the echo of her last mission trailing her every step. The wind in Snezhnaya was bitter, cutting through the air with an edge sharp enough to remind her of the decision she had made only hours before. Snow fell lightly, coating the ground and muffling her footsteps, but nothing could silence the thoughts swirling in her mind.

The House of the Hearth stood tall and imposing, its black spires stabbing into the night sky. The warmth from within could be seen from afar, golden light spilling from the windows, a stark contrast to the cold exterior. The children would be asleep by now, dreaming peacefully, unaware of the weight their 'Father' carried.

As Arlecchino pushed open the grand doors, the familiar scent of burning wood and candle wax greeted her. The staff barely glanced her way, their respect ingrained in every nod and curtsy as she walked past. They knew better than to disturb her. She was not one for pleasantries, especially not tonight.

Each step through the hallways of the orphanage felt heavier than usual. The snow clinging to her heels, melted and left a trail of dampness behind her, but Arlecchino's mind was elsewhere. She passed by the grand staircase where portraits of smiling children adorned the walls, their joy eternal in frozen frames. Her eyes flicked over them briefly before moving on. Those smiles were her creation, her responsibility—but tonight, even they couldn't distract her.

Her thoughts kept returning to Furina, the Hydro Archon. The glow of the Hydro Gnosis, now in her possession, felt like a living thing, pulsing with the memory of the battle that had just taken place. Furina, vibrant and full of life—albeit chaotic and unpredictable—had met her end at Arlecchino's hands. It wasn't the first time Arlecchino had taken a life, not by any stretch, but this felt different. Killing an Archon wasn't just an assignment; it was a statement. It was a shift in the world itself.

Arlecchino reached her quarters, a cold and isolated part of the building far removed from the warmth of the children's laughter. Inside, the room was as unwelcoming as ever—dark, sparsely decorated, and cold. She removed her cloak and over vest, placing them aside with mechanical precision, then stepped toward the small table in the corner. There, sitting quietly, was the Hydro Gnosis.

Its faint blue glow illuminated the room, casting long shadows on the walls. Arlecchino stared at it, her face as expressionless as ever, though inside, her mind was anything but still. The image of Furina's face as they fought in that abandoned theater flickered through her mind—her shock, her pain, the betrayal written in her wide eyes. Arlecchino had seen it all. And then she had watched the life drain from those same eyes as she took what she had come for.

Furina's words echoed in her mind, though Arlecchino hadn't truthfully ment it when Furina whispered 'I love you Arlecchino.. ' the night they confined to one another

Furina's voice had cracked, a mix of disbelief and sorrow. The words were meaningless now. There had been no room for emotion then, only action.

A knock on the door broke through her thoughts. It was soft, hesitant, but Arlecchino recognized it at once. She didn't respond, and after a few moments, the door creaked open, allowing a small figure to slip inside.

It was one of the older children, a girl of about twelve, who stood at the threshold with her hands clasped nervously in front of her. Her dark hair was tied back with a simple ribbon, and she wore a modest nightgown. "Father," the girl whispered, her voice tentative, as if she feared disturbing Arlecchino's silence. "The children... they're asking about you. Will you come see them?"

For a moment, Arlecchino said nothing. She remained by the table, staring at the Gnosis, its light reflecting in her dark eyes. The child waited, shifting slightly from foot to foot, unsure if she had made a mistake by interrupting.

Finally, Arlecchino turned, her movements deliberate and slow. She walked toward the girl, stopping in front of her and lowering herself slightly to the child's level. Her gloved hand reached out, resting gently on the girl's shoulder. Though her face betrayed no emotion, there was a care in the way she touched the child, a restraint that spoke of the importance she placed on them.

"Tell them I'll come in the morning," Arlecchino said quietly. "They need their rest."

The girl nodded quickly, clearly relieved. "Yes, Father..," she said, her voice a bit steadier now. She gave a small bow before retreating from the room, closing the door behind her as softly as she had opened it.

Once the door clicked shut, Arlecchino stood in the silence once more, the weight of the Gnosis and her actions pressing down on her like a storm. Furina had been an Archon, a leader, and though her methods were often questioned, she had still cared for her people in her own way. And now, Arlecchino had taken that from her. The people of Fontaine would never know the truth—they would never know what really happened in that empty theater.

She walked to the window, her reflection barely visible against the snow that now covered the panes. Outside, the world was still, the snow falling in soft, quiet waves, blanketing the ground in white. Snezhnaya always seemed so peaceful from afar, but beneath the surface, there was always a struggle—just like the one within Arlecchino now.

Killing Furina had been necessary. The Hydro Gnosis was what mattered. But was it worth the sacrifice? The memory of Furina's eyes, full of hurt and confusion, lingered.

Was it truly necessary?

The Fatui had always demanded loyalty, efficiency, and results. Emotions were irrelevant, weakness unacceptable. Arlecchino knew this better than anyone. She had risen through the ranks because of her ruthlessness, her ability to act without hesitation. And yet, as she stood in the quiet of her room, staring out at the snow-covered streets, she couldn't shake the image of Furina's final moments.

Her hand tightened around the windowsill, her nails digging into the metal. She had made her choice. She had taken the Gnosis and completed her mission. But something had shifted. The satisfaction she normally felt after such a success was absent, replaced by a hollow emptiness that gnawed at the edges of her mind.

In the morning, she would see the children. She would don her mask of cold indifference and continue as the ever-present protector of the House of the Hearth. They would never know what she had done, or why. But tonight, in the stillness of her room, Arlecchino allowed herself a moment of silence—a brief pause to reflect on the weight of her decisions.

As the snow continued to fall outside, covering the world in a layer of pristine white, Arlecchino stood alone, the Gnosis quietly pulsing behind her—a reminder of the life she had taken and the burden of the choices she could never undo.

She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, staring intently into the flames that flickered and danced, casting long, shifting shadows across the stone walls of the dimly lit room. The heat of the fire barely touched the coldness of the air around her; it was as if no warmth could truly reach her.

The flames reflected in her dark eyes, but her face remained as unreadable as ever. The apology wasn't one born of regret but of duty—an acknowledgment of the act she had committed. A ritualistic confession, devoid of any real feeling. Yet, as the words left her lips, they hung in the air, heavy and oppressive, as if even the fire itself had stopped to listen.

She could still see Furina's face in her mind, the wide eyes filled with disbelief and pain. Arlecchino's grip had been firm, her sword swift, yet the image persisted like a ghost. The final breath Furina took, the way her body crumpled to the ground, haunted the space between every blink.

The fire crackled again, spitting embers into the room, and Arlecchino's gaze hardened. She never looked away from the flames, never allowed herself to show the slightest hint of hesitation. This was who she was, who she had been forged to be. And yet...

The memory of Furina's words gnawed at her mind, refusing to let go.

"I trust you.."

The accusation in those words was not something Arlecchino could simply brush aside, no matter how hard she tried. Caring had nothing to do with it. It never did. Or at least, it wasn't supposed to.

She shifted her weight slightly, her gloved hands tightening behind her back. The fire crackled again, louder this time, and she could feel the pulse of the Hydro Gnosis hidden away in her possession. It was hers now, a prize hard-won, but with it came an unexpected heaviness, a weight that wasn't purely physical.

"Furina," she whispered, the name barely audible, swallowed by the flames. She had spoken it countless times before in their interactions, but now it felt different—final, like a name etched in stone. Her mind wandered briefly to the theater, where the fight had played out, an empty stage once vibrant with life and now quiet, a tomb for memories that would never be spoken of again.

She remembered how Furina had struggled, not just physically but emotionally, how her eyes had searched for answers that Arlecchino had no intention of giving. The Archon had been unpredictable, a chaotic force, but there had been a certain innocence in her that Arlecchino had found... intriguing. Furina had been unlike the others. Unlike the world-hardened Harbingers, who knew the cost of their power, Furina still believed, still hoped. And that had made her weak.

Arlecchino exhaled softly, her breath visible in the cold air despite the fire. Was it weakness to care? Was it weakness to hesitate? Those were questions she could never afford to ask herself. She slowly walked in front of a red velvet seat and sat down..

The door behind her creaked open slightly, and a figure stepped into the room. Arlecchino didn't turn to acknowledge them, but she could feel the presence immediately. Columbina. She had an uncanny way of appearing at just the right moment, as if she could sense the turmoil hidden beneath the surface. Her footsteps were light, almost inaudible, but Arlecchino could always tell when Columbina was near. It was the unsettling calm she brought with her.

"Brooding again, Knave?" Columbina's voice floated into the room, soft and teasing, but with an undercurrent of seriousness that only someone who knew her well could detect. "You've been staring into that fire for far too long. You'll start to burn if you're not careful."

Arlecchino remained silent for a long moment, her eyes still fixed on the flames. Columbina, however, was not one to be discouraged by silence. She walked forward, her movements graceful and deliberate, until she stood behind the chair where Arlecchino sat ,her gaze now also focused on the fire.

"You did what needed to be done," Columbina continued, her tone gentler now, though there was a knowing edge to it. "But you're still thinking about it, aren't you? Furina, I mean." The angel spoke as she started to slither her hands onto the cold stone woman,resting her head on the crock of her neck.

Arlecchino's jaw tightened slightly, but she didn't answer. Columbina, of course, took that as a response in itself.

"It's funny," Columbina mused, tilting her head as if she were truly reflecting on the situation. "You don't often let things bother you. But this... this is different, isn't it?" She glanced sideways at Arlecchino, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Or maybe it's because you know it was more than just a mission. More than just another Archon falling to the Fatui."

Arlecchino finally moved, turning her head just enough to glance at Columbina. Her expression remained as inscrutable as ever, but there was a sharpness to her gaze now, a warning.

Columbina, of course, only smiled wider. "Relax, Knave... I'm not judging you. I'm just... observing. That's what I do, after all."

She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against Arlecchino's body in a way that was almost frightening, though there was always something unsettling about Columbina's touch. "You've done your part," she whispered softly into her ear. "The Hydro Gnosis is in our hands now. And Furina... well, she made her choices too. Don't let it weigh on you."

The fourth Fatui Harbinger looked back at the fire, her posture stiff but controlled. Columbina's words settled in the air between them, and for a moment, the only sound was the steady crackling of the fire.

"Choices..." Arlecchino finally muttered, more to herself than to Columbina. It was true. Furina had made her choices, and so had she. But even now, the image of Furina's face, that final question hanging in the air, refused to leave her mind.

Columbina leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "Knave, you don't have to carry everything alone. Not every decision needs to be cold and ruthless. Some things... they just are." She pulled back slightly, her smile returning, though this time it was softer, more genuine. "But you already know that, don't you?"

Before Arlecchino could respond, the door creaked open again, and this time it was Childe who entered. His presence was louder, more boisterous, as always. He walked in with the casual confidence that was his trademark, his grin wide and his eyes glinting with mischief. But there was something else too—something darker that always lurked behind his smile.

"Ah, Knave!," Childe said, striding toward them with a swagger in his step. "I heard you've been busy." He glanced at the fire, then back at her. "Taking down an Archon... impressive work. Though I can't say I'm surprised. I always knew you had it in you."

Arlecchino's gaze flicked to him briefly, then back to the flames. Childe's grin widened as if her silence amused him.

"Still," he continued, his tone shifting to something more pointed, "I can't help but wonder... what really drives you? I mean, we all know why the rest of us are here. But you... you're different. You've got that curse, sure, but you've never experienced real suffering, have you? Not like the kind that comes from watching an entire nation fall apart."

His words hung in the air like a challenge, but Arlecchino didn't react. Columbina raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them, her curiosity piqued.

Childe stepped closer, his smile never faltering. "You think you're tough, Knave. But you don't know what it's like—losing everything. Losing your best and only friend . That was real suffering. You? You're just doing what you're told. But one day, you'll face something you can't control. And then... we'll see if you're still as strong as you think you are."

The room fell into silence again, the fire crackling louder in the wake of Childe's words. Arlecchino remained still, her expression unreadable, her gaze fixed on the flames. But beneath the surface, something had shifted. The weight of her decisions, the choices she had made, the life she had taken—all of it pressed down on her, like a burden she hadn't anticipated.

Without a word, she stood up and turned away from the fire and walking toward the door, as her footsteps echoing in the silent room. Columbina and Childe watched her go, the former with quiet curiosity, the latter with a knowing smirk.

As the door closed behind her, the air in the room seemed to grow colder, the warmth of the fire unable to reach where Arlecchino had stood. Outside, the snow continued to fall, and in the distance, the House of the Hearth loomed large and silent, waiting for its 'Father' to return.

But even as she walked away, the image of Furina's eyes, filled with betrayal and pain, stayed with her—a reminder that some choices, no matter how necessary, left scars too deep to ever truly heal.

"Apologies,Miss. Furina.."

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Ok so like..i already had this part done.. but I as debating if I was gonna add onto this.. but yea! This is the real end :3! Hope yall like it and double post for today <3!!! I had so much fun writing this even though it was late post and crappy but ty for all of y'all who read this book! :3 I'll try to get start writing soon !!! Love you all lake Lillie's<3!

Edit: Please read ; "Burn Of A Harbinger" if you enjoyed this book<3! Keep in mind I am heavily hyper fixed on this ship (yes Ik..) but yes! There will be multiple books about this and possibly other ships or fandoms!! And you have any recommendations please ask!!

-edited December 22,2024 at 11:30..
-Edited January 4, 2025 at 8:01-..

-Your most Fabulous archon-

Furina De Fontaine~!