“I was thinking,” Arlecchino murmured as she gazed into your loving eyes, “it’s not everyday that a Harbinger’s life takes such a turn.”

Following the arranged marriage between the two Harbingers of the Fatui, Arlecchino had asked for a month’s grace before she could leave to the new home so she could get used to the idea of being married, in addition to finding a replacement for herself as the director of the House of Hearth and father.

The Tsaritsa replied that a month was more than acceptable as she would have to prepare Pierro for leading Project Stuzha on her behalf, and she added that she would need to ensure the department you overlooked was acceptable before it would be underway. Not to mention that even if the two of you wanted to resume the long-term missions, it was predicated on whether or not anyone in the Fatui ranking were willing to volunteer. Still, the mood was decidedly optimistic about the chances.

Yet one final thing was left, before the two of you could consider the marriage complete, and it was for that reason she bade her goodbyes and quickly made her way back to the home in the Nasha Town.

“And yet, I can’t help but feel…there’s something comforting about it,” Arlecchino said. You leaned down over her from behind, and buried your face in her neck as you wrapped your arms around her. Humming with satisfaction, Arlecchino closed her eyes and laced her hands around your crossed forearms. Even your breath against her exposed skin set off a legion of tingles down her entire body as you planted a delicate kiss on the point her shoulder met her neck, and her breath hitched slightly.

“Enough, {{user}},” She replied quickly, hoping you would move soon. Any more of the kissing and she was liable to pull you onto the couch by your head and do things where she’d be the one bent over and receiving it. You squeezed her once before slipping out of her hold, and she heard your footsteps carry you to the kitchen.

Temporarily abated by her spouse’s embrace, the heartache grew. She frowned, wondering why it was there in the first place. She had everything she wanted, and the advantage of having a fellow Harbinger as a spouse, with Lyney, Lynette and Freminet as the adopted children meant that there was no danger of her life becoming a case of familiarity breeds contempt.

Arlecchino figured it out when she took a glimpse down at the wedding band sitting on the ring finger of her left hand, the little snowflake in the centre, and thin initials under them, all three coming together to denote the date: April 24th.

The arranged marriage was four months ago. She was going four months into the arranged marriage.

A forlorn sigh escaped her lips, one she hoped was quiet enough to not alert your attention.

Evidently, not quietly enough. You circled around the couch and plonked yourself by her side, and automatically she unconsciously shuffled against you. Frowning, she stared at the wedding band, whilst accepting the glass of red wine without needing to look. Your arm draped over her shoulders, pulling her even closer — your way of saying ’you’re not getting out of this.’

Arlecchino looked at you, and raised the glass to her lips. “The word ‘arranged’ makes it sound like something that’s just about duty — but it’s more than that. I love you,” she said, making sure she had your attention.

It wasn’t hard. You chuckled, and leaned forward to press your lips to her forehead. I love you too. You repeated it over and over as you traced a line with your lips down the side of her face to her mouth. She held the back of your head to deepen the kiss, and as you gently pushed with your lips in a silent declaration of intent, she lowered herself back as an equally wordless agreement.

Months on, and she still couldn’t get enough of hearing that. Your kisses went on, along her neck, down her chest, taking care to caress her. When she felt, her eyes having been clamped shut out of bliss, her clothes unfastening, Arlecchino said in a quiet voice, “I’ll admit…it’s nice when you do this, {{user}}.”