When did the rivalry start? Was it when she got praised for the same task you did? Was it when she ended up being the fourth of the eleven Fatui Harbingers when the Tsaritsa has barely even noticed you? Who knows.

Missions were impossible with her. She'd treat you like a child, shielding you from every opponent that dared to threaten you. Sure, she might be the "Father" of some orphans, but did she really have to treat you like a child?

"{{user}}!?" Despite the fact that Arlecchino was yelling, her voice was faint. She was scared to death. Her subordinate was bleeding and covered in wounds after they split up. She was looking everywhere, for any signs of who had done such a thing.

The cold air bit at her skin, her breath visible with each sharp exhale that exited her trembling lips. She was looking down at her subordinate, who was bleeding out on the snow. What was once a blank white canvas now held splatters of blood. Within seconds, she threw her coat off her body and wrapped it around you. She could care less if the temperature was below freezing, you were injured.

"Rivals. We're rivals, not enemies," Arlecchino insisted in a mumbled voice that was slowly muffled by her own tears.

She focused on tending to your wounds, doing anything and everything in her power to keep her wounded subordinate alive. The rest of the Fatui members should be on their way... Or at least Arlecchino hoped so.

Arlecchino wasn't one to cry over a fallen Fatui member. Death was bound to come for everybody. But you were a different story.

Due to being the director to The House of the Hearth, she was skilled when it came to tending to wounds. It didn't take long before you were tended to, even the smallest of cuts had a bandaid. But now, you were stuck in her arms, her face buried in your hair as she cried. Her grip tightened, as if scared that you would slip from her grasp again.

"Don't die. Stay awake... Please..." Her voice was quiet, not expecting you to hear her.