Work Text:
The hall was no hall at all, but a sea of pale blossoms swaying beneath a light that had no sun. At its heart rested a pearl of impossible size, hollowed into crescent arcs that cradled the figure within. A small figure lay draped across its curve, her voice threading lullabies through the stillness, as if the stars themselves leaned closer to listen.
Arlecchino felt the curse in her hands ease, soothed by the melody she had not heard in months. She paused, letting the sound temper the fire that burned across her scars, as though the song itself carried the memory of gentler days.
Two, perhaps three heartbeats passed before she forced her steps forward, quiet as a shadow.
Yet before she could close the distance, the lullaby shifted. Playful—knowing.
“Does this count as a win?” Columbina chirped, as though waking from a dream.
Arlecchino's mouth tugged, almost a smile, though the weight of it felt unfamiliar on her face. Of course she noticed. Here, in this place, it was impossible for her not to.
Well, it might be the only place where she could ever win against Arlecchino.
“Call it whatever you want,” she said with an amused huff.
Columbina's smile lingered, a crescent curve against the silver glow. She let the silence stretch long enough for the blossoms to return to their slow rhythm. Then, tilting her head against the pearl's curve, she broke it with a murmur that carried like silver across water.
“So,” she said, half-curious, half-amused. “They decided to send you this time?”
Arlecchino simply shrugged. “They must be running out of options.”
Columbina laughed—soft, nearly indistinguishable from the rustle of petals. It drifted through the hall like another verse to her song. “Since when are you so dutiful?”
The question tugged Arlecchino's lips into a sharper curve. She stooped, plucked a fallen blossom, and offered it to the Moon Maiden herself. “They may have sent me,” she said, “but I am here because I chose to be.”
The feathers behind Columbina's head fluttered slightly. She accepted the fragile petal; their fingers brushed in the process, and once again Arlecchino's curse quieted, as though it basked in the moonlight.
“Talking as if you're not also taking advantage of me,” Columbina said with a sigh. “As if you're not here for your own... reasons.”
Arlecchino leaned closer, hand rising to cup Columbina's face. The sensation—don't ask her how—was like touching the moon itself.
“My dear Kuutar,” she whispered, “you are as radiant as I remembered.”
The feathers fluttered again as the lunar surface blushed faintly pink. “That sweet mouth of yours...” she murmured, laughter catching in her throat, “...always so dangerous.”
Arlecchino merely smiled.
That one was dangerous, too.
Columbina twirled the petal once more before letting it drift back into the sea of blossoms. Her smile lingered, bright as the glow around her.
“So,” she murmured, voice lilting with amusement, “how do you plan to return me to them?”
Arlecchino's eyes flicked to hers, unreadable. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me,” Columbina said lightly, as if they were speaking of nothing at all. “Because I don't think you've thought that far ahead.”
Arlecchino exhaled through her nose, almost a laugh, and leaned back against the pearl. “You're pretty talkative today, Columbina.”
“Well...” Columbina tilted her head, feathers swaying gently. “I suppose I'm a little excited to have my favorite co-worker, of all people, visit me here.”
Arlecchino huffed, amused by the statement. “Favorite, huh? Sandrone would be sad.”
Columbina chuckled softly, tilting so the feathers frame her face. “Then I'd appreciate it if you keep it a secret between us.”
“Mm, sure,” Arlecchino answered briefly. “It would be bothersome otherwise.”
Columbina chuckled, agreeing.
The realm quieted with her laugh. Petals drifted lazily through the still air, catching in her dark hair before dissolving back into light. Neither of them spoke for a long while.
At last, Columbina tilted her head, breaking through the hush. “How have the children been doing these days?”
Arlecchino tilted her head, as if to ask, ‘which ones?’—which made Columbina giggle a little, before adding, “Everyone. But to start, maybe the twins and little Freminet... How have they been?”
Arlecchino's eyes softened slightly, scanning the drifting petals as if the answer might lie among them. “Lyney has been learning new tricks for his performances. Ambitious as ever, he is—or perhaps a bit reckless? But I suppose that's what makes him shine.”
Columbina hummed, watching how the usually ruthless Knave gentled as she spoke of her children. “And Lynette?”
“I've tried warning her about her sugar intake,” Arlecchino said with a sigh, “but she didn't seem to appreciate it.” A small chuckle escaped. “Not very pleasant for her, apparently.”
Columbina giggled, the petals around them quivering as if laughing too. “You should've just let her.”
Arlecchino gave her a brief, are-you-serious? look, then continued. “And Freminet... he spends more time diving these days. Swimming through every channel and stream he can find.” A soft smile flickered across her face. Columbina didn't miss it.
She matched it with one of her own. “Then I suppose they've all been doing well. Good to hear, since their Father is as busy as ever.”
Arlecchino let out a quiet sigh, more amused than weary. Her gaze lingered on Columbina. “And you? I heard you've used too much of your power for the Tsaritsa.”
“Don't worry, I've managed,” Columbina answered, though her voice betrayed the strain. “It's just quieter here than I'd like.”
“You've been in the Fatui for too long that you despise the quiet now, huh?” Arlecchino teased.
Columbina tilted her head, feathers stirring like a breeze had brushed them. “Perhaps. I did enjoy the chaos.”
Arlecchino sighed, once again amused by the statement.
“Even if you miss them... I still wouldn't advise you to come with me,” she added. “For now, I only came to see how you were.”
“And perhaps to get a taste of the cure you've longed to find?” Columbina asked, but there was no hostility in her tone.
Arlecchino didn't answer immediately. Instead, she drifted her gaze elsewhere. “I'll tell them I'll bring you back once your powers are fully restored,” she said at last. “Until then... I'll visit from time to time.”
Columbina's feathers quivered, her smile softening. “Mm... that sounds like you,” she murmured. “Always making it sound as though you're doing it for them, when really, it's for yourself.”
Arlecchino didn't say anything. The petals drifted between them, pale as snowfall, dissolving as they touched her coat. Her jaw tightened, but only for a heartbeat.
“Still, I don't mind. Even if you come here for your own agenda, even if I despise those who only come seek me for my powers...” Columbina said, her voice as light and distant as ever, “...I don't mind. If it's for you, I'd gladly help.”
Silence filled the realm once again.
Then, Arlecchino quietly huffed through her nose, like she'd been caught off guard. “You talk too much for someone who sleeps all day.”
Columbina smiled faintly, tilting her head against her hand. “Mm... maybe it's because you're here. Otherwise, I'd rather dream.” Her eyes flickered open, like stars barely peeking through clouded skies. “And don't frown so much, Arle. You'll frighten the blossoms.”
Arlecchino glanced at the drifting petals, the corner of her mouth twitching. Then, with a quiet step, she settled beside Columbina against the pearl's curve.
Columbina shifted only slightly, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair away from Arlecchino's face, tucking it neatly behind her ear. Her fingertips lingered just long enough to smooth the faint furrow in her brow.
“You see?” she murmured, light as a feather. “The blossoms don't look so frightened now.”
Arlecchino let out a low sound—half a scoff, half something that never quite formed into words. Her eyes slid sideways, catching the faint gleam of Columbina's smile, and for a heartbeat she looked as though she might brush her hand away.
But she didn't.
Instead, she leaned into the touch, the fire in her hands quieting as the glow seeped into her bones.
“If you were half as gentle as you are, I wouldn't yearn for you as much,” she said, a faint crack in her voice as honesty took over. “Being with you calms every fiber of my being, Columbina.”
Something in Columbina's chest ached at those words. Such a raw vulnerability coming from one of the strongest figures she had ever met.
Her smile curved faintly, gentle as moonlight on water. “Mm... what a selfish thing to say,” she murmured, though her voice carried no scolding, only warmth. “And yet, I can't bring myself to mind.”
She let her hand fall, not to withdraw, but to rest lightly against the side of Arlecchino's jaw, her thumb brushing the faintest line of scar. “If calm is what you seek, then you'll find it here as often as you like.”
Arlecchino chuckled quietly. “Then, shall I stay a little longer?”
“Stay,” Columbina said, the blossoms around them turning red. “...and let the blossoms witness a gentler side of you.”
And so, Arlecchino stayed.