A few weeks after Christmas and New years

Furina sat in a quiet room, her focus entirely on the canvas before her. The once-sterile walls of the chamber now bore faint splatters of paint—blues, whites, and gentle greys that resembled the sky meeting the ocean. Her brush moved in careful, deliberate strokes, adding texture to the scene she was creating. It was peaceful, something Furina had come to cherish in the chaos of her new reality.

The room was chilly despite the faint sunlight filtering through the tall windows. Furina's pale fingers trembled slightly as she held the brush, whether from the cold or something deeper she couldn't quite admit. Her short hair, still unfamiliar to her when she caught glimpses of her reflection, framed her delicate features. She wore a plain, light blue smock over her usual dress, its edges stained with dabs of paint. For once, she looked serene.

The soft creak of the door swinging open behind her shattered the moment of tranquility. Furina froze mid-stroke, her grip tightening on the paintbrush as the temperature in the room seemed to drop further—not from the cold, but from the chilling presence that entered. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Busy, are we?" Arlecchino's voice cut through the stillness like a knife. It was calm, almost pleasant, but carried an undercurrent of mockery that made Furina's stomach churn.

Furina didn't respond right away, instead resuming her work on the canvas, though her strokes were less steady now. "I don't have time for your games, Arlecchino," she said, trying to keep her voice even.

The sound of boots clicking against the wooden floor grew closer. Furina felt her heart race as the Harbinger approached, her presence looming behind her like a shadow. "Oh, but you always make time for me," Arlecchino replied smoothly. "You've been awfully quiet lately. I was beginning to think you were hiding something."

"I have nothing to hide," Furina snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. She set the brush down on the easel and turned to face Arlecchino, her blue eyes meeting the Harbinger's crimson gaze.

Arlecchino tilted her head, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She was dressed in her usual dark, tailored attire, a stark contrast to Furina's soft and subdued colors. Her gloved hands were clasped behind her back, giving her the air of someone entirely in control of the situation.

"Is that so?" Arlecchino mused, stepping closer until she was mere inches from Furina. "Then why do you look like a cornered animal every time I enter the room?"

Furina took a step back instinctively, her heel bumping against the leg of her stool. "Maybe because you act like a predator," she retorted, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound confident.

Arlecchino chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "A predator?" she repeated, as though savoring the word. "I suppose that's fitting, considering the prey I've caught."

Furina's cheeks flushed with anger and humiliation. She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. "I'm not your prey," she said, her voice rising slightly.

Arlecchino raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Bold words for someone in your position," she said, taking another step forward. Furina was forced to retreat again, this time bumping into the edge of the table where her paints were laid out.

"Stop it," Furina said, her voice breaking slightly.

"Or what?" Arlecchino challenged, leaning in closer. Her crimson eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was an edge of something darker, something dangerous.

Furina's chest heaved with frustration and fear. In a sudden burst of defiance, she shoved Arlecchino away with both hands, the force sending the Harbinger stumbling back a step. "I said stop it!" Furina yelled, her voice ringing through the room.

The silence that followed was deafening. Arlecchino straightened, her expression shifting from amused to something colder, more menacing. Her crimson eyes narrowed, and the tension in the room became suffocating.

"Well," Arlecchino said after a moment, her voice eerily calm. "It seems you've grown a spine."

Furina's breathing was ragged, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched Arlecchino approach her again, this time with deliberate, measured steps. The Harbinger's smirk was gone, replaced by a look of icy determination.

"You don't get to push me away," Arlecchino said, her tone low and dangerous. "Not when I've gone through so much trouble to keep you here."

Furina backed away, her hands trembling as she searched for something—anything—to defend herself with. Her eyes darted to the paintbrush on the table, but before she could reach for it, Arlecchino grabbed her wrist, her grip like iron.

"You've forgotten your place," Arlecchino said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Allow me to remind you."

Furina struggled against her grip, panic setting in as she realized how strong Arlecchino was. "Let me go!" she cried, her voice cracking.

Arlecchino's expression softened ever so slightly, but it wasn't kindness—it was mockery. "Oh, Furina," she said, pulling the former Archon closer until their faces were mere inches apart. "You're much prettier when you're scared."

Tears welled in Furina's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She glared at Arlecchino, her lips trembling as she tried to muster the courage to speak. "You won't break me," she said, though her voice was barely audible.

Arlecchino tilted her head, studying Furina with a faint smile. "We'll see," she said, her tone dripping with malice.

She released Furina's wrist abruptly, causing the smaller woman to stumble back against the table. Furina's knees buckled, and she slid to the floor, her body trembling as she tried to catch her breath.

Arlecchino watched her for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she turned and walked toward the door, her boots clicking against the floor.

"Clean yourself up," she said over her shoulder. "I'll expect you at dinner."

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving Furina alone in the room. She curled into herself on the floor, her sobs echoing in the empty space.

......

Furina remained on the floor for what felt like hours, her body trembling from the aftermath of the encounter. Her chest heaved with uneven breaths as her mind replayed the scene over and over again—the icy grip on her wrist, Arlecchino's chilling words, and the way the Harbinger's piercing gaze had seemed to strip her of every ounce of strength. Her hands clenched into fists against the cold floor, and she finally forced herself to sit up, brushing away the tears that had streamed down her face.

The room around her was silent save for the faint echo of her sniffles. The easel stood untouched, her unfinished painting staring back at her like a mockery of her attempt at peace. The colors she had carefully blended now seemed dull and lifeless, much like how she felt. Her head tilted back as she tried to regain her composure, staring at the ornate ceiling of the chamber. She couldn't stay here. Not like this. Not when Arlecchino expected her to come to dinner as if nothing had happened.

Dragging herself to her feet, Furina's legs felt unsteady, but she pushed forward. She leaned against the table for support, her fingers brushing against the scattered paintbrushes and palette. A small burst of determination flared in her chest—an ember amidst the ashes of her fear. She wouldn't give Arlecchino the satisfaction of seeing her completely broken.

Moving slowly, Furina made her way to the washbasin near the corner of the room. Her reflection in the mirror made her pause. The dark circles under her eyes, the smudges of paint on her cheek, and the faint red mark on her wrist where Arlecchino had gripped her—it all told a story of vulnerability she despised. She splashed cold water onto her face, rubbing away the traces of her tears, and took several deep breaths. Her short hair clung to her forehead, but she didn't bother to fix it. It wasn't about looking perfect anymore—it was about surviving.

———

The dining hall was lavishly decorated, the long table adorned with glimmering candles and fine silverware. The soft glow of the chandeliers cast a warm light over the room, but to Furina, it felt oppressive. The grandeur seemed mocking, a sharp contrast to the dread swirling in her chest as she entered. She had changed into a modest black dress, simple yet elegant, but even that felt suffocating under the weight of Arlecchino's presence.

Arlecchino sat at the head of the table, her posture relaxed as if she owned the entire world. Her crimson gaze flicked to Furina as she entered, a smirk playing at her lips. She wore a sleek, tailored suit that only amplified her intimidating presence, the dark fabric accentuating her sharp features and pale skin. Her gloved fingers toyed with the rim of her wine glass as she watched Furina with an expression of thinly veiled amusement.

"Ah, there you are," Arlecchino said, her voice smooth and welcoming, though the undertone sent a chill down Furina's spine. "I was beginning to think you'd decided not to join me."

Furina clenched her fists at her sides but forced herself to walk toward the table. She sat down stiffly in the chair opposite Arlecchino, her gaze fixed on the empty plate before her. "I'm here, as you requested," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arlecchino chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "Good. I was worried our little conversation earlier had upset you too much." Her words dripped with mock sympathy, and Furina felt her nails digging into her palms again.

A servant appeared, setting down a plate of roasted meat and vegetables in front of Furina. The smell was enticing, but her appetite had vanished entirely. She picked up her fork and pushed the food around on her plate, her thoughts racing as she tried to block out Arlecchino's penetrating gaze.

"So," Arlecchino began after a moment of silence, her tone casual. "Tell me, Furina, how are you finding your stay here? Have you adjusted to life under my roof?"

Furina's hand froze mid-movement, and she looked up at Arlecchino with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Adjusted?" she echoed, her voice shaking. "You've kept me here against my will. How do you expect me to adjust to being a prisoner?"

Arlecchino's smirk widened, and she leaned back in her chair, swirling the wine in her glass. "Prisoner is such a harsh word," she said smoothly. "I prefer to think of you as... my guest. A guest who has yet to show proper gratitude, mind you."

Furina's jaw tightened, and she dropped her fork onto her plate with a clang. "Gratitude? For what? For stripping me of my freedom? For making me feel like a pawn in whatever twisted game you're playing?"

The room fell silent, the tension between them palpable. Arlecchino's expression darkened, her playful demeanor replaced by something colder. She set her glass down with deliberate care and stood, walking slowly around the table toward Furina.

Furina's pulse quickened as Arlecchino stopped beside her chair, towering over her. The Harbinger leaned down, placing a gloved hand on the back of Furina's chair as she brought her face close to hers.

"You seem to forget," Arlecchino said, her voice low and dangerous, "that you are alive because of me. Your very existence is at my mercy. So, unless you'd like me to reconsider my generosity, I suggest you learn to appreciate your position."

Furina's breath hitched, but she refused to look away. Her fear was evident, but there was a spark of defiance in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "I won't be your puppet," she said, her voice trembling but firm.

Arlecchino's lips curled into a smile—not one of amusement, but of warning. She straightened and placed a gloved finger under Furina's chin, forcing her to look up at her. "Oh, my dear Archon," she said softly. "You already are."

The door to the dining hall creaked open, breaking the heavy silence. A servant hesitated at the threshold, their gaze flickering nervously between Arlecchino and Furina. "My lady," the servant said, bowing slightly. "There is a matter that requires your attention."

Arlecchino glanced at the servant, her expression unreadable, before turning back to Furina. "Enjoy your meal," she said, her tone dripping with condescension. Then she stepped away, her presence like a storm cloud retreating from the room.

Furina exhaled shakily, her body sagging with relief as the door closed behind Arlecchino. She sat there for a long moment, staring at her untouched plate, her mind racing. She didn't know how much longer she could endure this, but one thing was clear: she had to find a way out.

Her gaze shifted to the painting room door, where faint streaks of light filtered through. The embers of her resolve flickered to life once more. Furina may have been trapped, but she wasn't entirely broken—not yet.

———

Furina sat at the dining table long after Arlecchino had left the room, her untouched plate still sitting before her. Her mind churned with a thousand thoughts, none of them comforting. The encounter just now had left her rattled, her fragile composure barely holding. Every time she thought she understood Arlecchino's motives, the Harbinger would peel back another layer of cruelty, leaving Furina feeling even more exposed and helpless.

Her fingers tightened around the fork, her knuckles white as she stared down at her plate. What did she mean when she said, "You already are" Was this all part of some elaborate scheme, or was there something deeper, something more personal at play?

The door creaked open again, and Furina's stomach sank. She didn't need to look up to know it was Arlecchino. The room seemed to shift with her presence, the air growing heavier and colder.

"Still not eating?" Arlecchino's voice came from behind her, soft and laced with mock concern. "You should, you know. It would be a shame if you withered away here. I can't imagine what your people would think if they saw you like this."

Furina didn't respond. Her grip on the fork tightened even further as she heard Arlecchino's slow, deliberate footsteps approach. She could feel the Harbinger's gaze boring into the back of her head, making the hairs on her neck stand on end.

"I've been thinking," Arlecchino continued, her tone casual, almost conversational. "Perhaps it's time you knew why you're here. After all, keeping you in the dark doesn't seem fair, does it?"

Furina's heart skipped a beat. She turned her head slightly, glancing at Arlecchino out of the corner of her eye. The Harbinger stood just behind her, one gloved hand resting on the back of her chair. Her expression was unreadable, but her crimson eyes gleamed with something that made Furina's blood run cold.

"You're here," Arlecchino said, leaning down until her face was level with Furina's, "because I need answers. About you. About us."

"Us?" Furina whispered, her voice barely audible. She couldn't hide the tremor in her tone.

Arlecchino smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. "Yes, you and I. You see, there are... gaps in my memory. Things I can't quite place. But one thing I do know is that they all seem to lead back to you."

Furina turned to face her fully, her fear momentarily overridden by confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Arlecchino straightened, her hand brushing along the edge of the table as she began to circle around Furina like a predator stalking its prey. "Before all of this—before the change, before the mafia —I was someone else. Someone with a past that I can't seem to recall. And every time I try, all I get is... flashes. Images. Of you." She stopped directly behind Furina, her voice dropping to a low murmur. "Of us."

Furina's breath caught in her throat. She wanted to deny it, to claim she had no idea what Arlecchino was talking about, but something in the Harbinger's tone stopped her. It wasn't mockery or manipulation this time. It was genuine. And that made it even more terrifying.

"I've spent years trying to piece it together," Arlecchino continued, her gloved hands resting on the back of Furina's chair. "Who I was. Who you were to me. But you've made it very difficult, haven't you? Running away from your past, hiding behind your titles and your theatrics. Tell me, Furina..." She leaned down, her breath warm against Furina's ear. "What are you so afraid of?"

Furina's hands trembled in her lap, but she forced herself to stay still. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice barely steady.

Arlecchino let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Oh, I think you do." Her hands moved to Furina's shoulders, holding her in place as she stood behind her. "You see, I'm starting to think that you were important to me. That we were... close. But something happened, didn't it? Something that made me forget. Something that made you run."

Furina swallowed hard, her throat dry. She felt the pressure of Arlecchino's hands on her shoulders, firm but not painful. Yet the weight of her words was suffocating.

"You're wrong," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "I don't know you. Not like that."

Arlecchino's grip tightened ever so slightly, and she tilted Furina's head back by the chin, forcing her to look up at her. Her crimson eyes searched Furina's face, as if trying to pull the truth from her expression alone.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Arlecchino asked, her voice low and dangerous. "You're a terrible liar, Furina. Always have been."

Before Furina could respond, Arlecchino leaned down further, her lips brushing against Furina's ear. "But that's alright. I have other ways of making you talk."

Furina shivered, both from fear and the proximity of the Harbinger. She opened her mouth to protest, to say anything that might defuse the situation, but the words caught in her throat as Arlecchino's lips pressed against her neck. The touch was both tender and possessive, sending a jolt of fear through her.

"Stop," Furina managed to whisper, her voice trembling. "Please."

Arlecchino pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting Furina's. For a moment, there was something almost vulnerable in her gaze, a flicker of the person she claimed to have been. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the cold, calculating look of a Harbinger.

"Not until you tell me the truth," Arlecchino said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Furina's chest heaved with shallow breaths as she tried to think, to find some way out of this. But she couldn't deny the growing realization that Arlecchino might be right. That there was a past between them—one she had tried desperately to forget. And now, it was coming back to haunt her.

Furina's body trembled violently, her breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. She clutched her arms tightly, as though trying to hold herself together. The faint sound of Arlecchino's boots clicking against the polished floor as she walked away echoed in her ears, a cruel reminder of the Harbinger's looming presence.

"Very well, Furina," Arlecchino had said moments before, her voice chilling and calm. "It's only a matter of time before you break. And I anticipate it will be soon. For now, au revoir..." Her parting words lingered in the air, heavy and foreboding.

Furina's teary eyes drifted down to the single blue rose that Arlecchino had left on the table before her. Its vibrant hue contrasted sharply against the dark wood, its beauty masking the sinister message it carried. Her breath hitched as recognition dawned on her—it was the same type of rose she remembered from that day. The day The Knave had struck her down with her polearm.

Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch the delicate petals, her mind spiraling back to that moment. The rose, once a symbol of affection and loyalty, now felt like a cruel mockery, a reminder of the pain and betrayal that had marked her past life.

"But alas, apologies, Miss Furina...~" Arlecchino's voice, soft and almost playful, replayed in her mind, sending a shiver down her spine.

The dining room felt colder now, emptier. Furina's body shook with fear as she wrapped her arms around herself, gasping for air. Her vision blurred with tears as her mind replayed the moment of her death, the sharp pain, the betrayal, the overwhelming sense of helplessness.

"S-somebody get me out..." she whispered through sobs, her voice broken and desperate. "Please..."

At that moment, the heavy doors to the dining room creaked open. Furina flinched, her head snapping toward the sound. A young guard stepped in, their expression a mix of concern and hesitation. Dressed in the polished uniform of Fontaine's house guards, their presence was a sharp contrast to the eerie tension that filled the room.

"Lady Furina," Lian said softly, their voice steady but gentle, careful not to startle her further. They stepped closer with cautious, measured movements, noticing the rose on the table and Furina's tear-streaked face. "Are you alright?"

Furina's wide, watery eyes locked onto Lian, searching for any sign of ill intent. The paranoia that had rooted itself deep inside her made even the kindest faces seem untrustworthy. Yet, something in the calmness of Lian's demeanor gave her pause.

"I..." Furina's voice cracked. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "I can't... I need to leave..."

Lian knelt down beside her, lowering themselves to her level with a patience that spoke volumes of their character. "You're safe," they said softly. "Let me help you. I'll take you to your room, where you can rest."

Furina hesitated, her fragile pride warring with her overwhelming fear. Eventually, she nodded, her body too drained to resist. Lian offered their hand, waiting patiently for her to take it. With trembling fingers, Furina reached out, clutching their hand as though it were a lifeline.

As Lian helped her to her feet, Furina wobbled, her legs weak from the emotional toll of the evening. Lianis placed a steadying hand on her back, guiding her toward the door.

The hallways of the mansion stretched long and winding, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the walls. Furina walked in silence, her head bowed, her thoughts a storm of fear and confusion. Lian stayed close, their presence a quiet reassurance.

As they turned a corner, a burst of hushed laughter echoed from further down the corridor. Furina froze, her grip on Lian tightening. A moment later, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet emerged from a side hall, their faces lighting up with mock surprise as they spotted the two.

"Well, well," Lyney drawled, a sly smile curving his lips. "What's this? Our dear Archon being escorted by the ever-dutiful Lian? How charming."

Lynette remained silent, her sharp gaze fixed on Furina, while Freminet shuffled awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable.

"Leave us," Furina snapped, though her voice lacked its usual authority. She tried to straighten her posture, to regain some semblance of dignity, but the tremor in her hands betrayed her.

Lyney's smile widened, though his eyes gleamed with something colder, more calculating. "Of course, Lady Furina. We wouldn't dream of intruding."

With a dramatic bow, he gestured for his siblings to follow him. As they passed by, Furina couldn't help but catch the faint whispers between them.

"She's more shaken than I expected," Lyney murmured to Lynette, his tone almost amused.

"Careful," Lynette replied, her voice low and even. "Father won't tolerate any mistakes."

The words sent a chill down Furina's spine, but before she could process them, Lian gently urged her forward.

"It's alright," Lian said quietly, their tone steady. "You're almost there."

When they finally reached her room, Lian opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Furina to enter. She hesitated, her eyes scanning the dimly lit space as though expecting Arlecchino to materialize from the shadows.

"You're safe here," Lian reassured her. "If you need anything, I'll be just outside."

Furina nodded weakly and stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, her body sliding down until she was sitting on the floor. Her fingers tightened around the blue rose, its once-beautiful petals now crumpled under her trembling grip.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the memories, the whispers, the overwhelming sense of dread that consumed her. But the image of Arlecchino's cold smile, the weight of her words, and the sinister laughter of Lyney echoed in her mind, refusing to let her rest.

......

Sorry for the late post!!! It's my little sister's birthday today <3! Also ft LianisTired So this had to be quick!!! Hope you enjoy!!!

-Lady Furina De Fontaine (Ty for lots of read<3!)