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The blizzard had raged on for days, with no end in sight. Her camp had long since been wiped out by bandits, leaving her abandoned, injured and days away from the closest village or town. She had been trudging through the frozen wasteland for days on end with almost no rest, half dead and frostbitten limbs barely able to carry herself through the thick snow. Just when she’d felt her limbs give out, she’d spotted it out in the distance.
Her salvation, a glimmer of light, stark against the raging storm.
With the last of her strength she pressed onwards, breaking out into a sprint that left her tasting blood in the back of her throat, her limbs almost completely numb. She stumbled through the snow like a madman, desperate to reach the light that grew closer, and closer, and closer until…
She tripped over something in the snow.
Arlecchino would never admit it now, but at the time she was so frustrated that she broke into tears, wailing in desperation until her voice gave out, hoarse from dehydration. She tried to stand, but her ankle was twisted in an odd direction and could not support her weight any longer. It was only then, through tears of anger and fear, that she had decided to turn around and see what she had tripped over.
The corpse at her feet stared back at her, its face frozen in horror.
She shouted in alarm, stumbling backwards as her eyes darted around the camp to reveal more and more corpses, all mangled and dismembered, their faces caught in that same horrified expressions, as if they’d witnessed something beyond their comprehension before they died.
It was at that moment that she felt the touch of another’s hands on her shoulders.
“Oh dear, aren’t you a poor little birdie,” the voice sung from behind. It was soft, melodic, almost hypnotizing. She was entranced almost immediately, frozen by fear and curiosity. “All lost alone in the snow. Where is your nest, little bird?”
She felt the hands slip further down her shoulders, slipping underneath the hem of her shirt to clasp her throat. She swallowed—in fear or anticipation, she couldn’t tell.
“‘m not lost,” she lied. The other laughed softly, their breath fluttering against her exposed neck.
In any other context, she would have thought the position was almost… intimate, with the figures soft and lithe hands spreading across her throat and clavicle in an almost sensual display, their breath warm against her skin. It didn’t take a genius to tell that it was a threat, however, all it took was a short glance to the mangled corpses strewn across the campsite to know what the figures' intentions with her was.
“You’re so funny, little bird.” she felt the others lips against her neck, nestled right above the artery. Their lips were soft, smooth. She could feel the sting of sharp teeth beneath them. “I think I quite like you.“
“I don’t—” she choked on her words when the figure pinched the sides of her throat. “I don’t think I want to know what that entails.”
The figure stilled, lessening their grip on her throat.
“What do you think I’m going to do to you?” They asked, voice soft and laced with a threat.
“I think you’re gonna kill me,” she answered truthfully. There was no point in lying, not when she was seemingly so close to death. “I assume you killed everyone else here. Why stop with me?”
“You don’t seem too bothered by that fact.” So they were going to kill her.
“Why would I be?” She laughed bitterly. “Even if you spared me, how far away is the nearest town? You weren’t far off the mark when you said I was lost. There’s no way I’d manage to make it back in time. If I don’t die by your hands, then I’ll die to the elements.”
The two of them fell silent, the air filled with nothing but the howling winds and their soft breathing.
“I think I quite like you,” they parroted the words from earlier, although this time, she had the odd thought that it sounded almost… genuine.
She didn’t get the chance to think of much for longer, however, as exhaustion finally took hold of her injured body.
The last things she felt before drifting off into the quiet nothing, was the sensation of soft hands moving up to cup her cheeks, and a pair of soft lips pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.
~~~
She awoke hours later, dazed and confused, in a room she did not recognize.
The first thing she noticed was how comfortable she felt. She was resting on something soft and warm, and her wounds were gone, completely healed. In fact, she had never felt so invigorated in her life.
The second thing she noticed was that, judging by the view of the Zapolyarny Palace out the window, she had somehow wound up in the capital, even though she knew for certain that she was located weeks away from it previously.
The third thing she noticed was that there was a letter on the nightstand, sealed and stamped with the wax seal of the Fatui Harbingers.
She felt her heart drop to her stomach, hands shaky as she picked up the letter. Thousands of thoughts raced through her head—what would the Tsaritsa’s own vanguards even want with her? Had she somehow offended them? She had tried her hardest to stay out of the Fatui’s path, as it was a well known fact that they did not take kindly to mercenaries. Had they somehow learnt of her reputation? She unsealed the letter, desperate to learn.
Inside was a simple note, resembling a postcard more than an actual letter. The margins were filled with scrawling gold lines depicting delicate birds flying through clouds and snow and intricate, interweaving lace like patterns. She ran her hand over the lines, breathless in awe.
She turned the card over to find a message written in that same, scrawling gold ink, and immediately her blood ran cold.
‘Little birdie,
I hope you find your room to your tastes, I pulled many strings to place you there. I told you that I liked you, did I not?
The Tsaritsa requests your presence. I do hope you don’t mind me telling her about our little meeting, but how could I not? Little brave birdie, talking back to a Harbinger. I’m sure you’d make a fine fatui.
Love,
Columbina’
Columbina. The third harbinger. She’d met with the third harbinger .
She was doomed.