Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Arlecchino reads over the last of Neuvillette's statements while she whiles away her time in the carriage, his penmanship immaculate as usual. He assured her that all four remaining members of the 'terrorist cell' would be brought to justice and seen to in the Fortress of Meropide. She did not know what to think of the Duke, but the Iudex had certainly earned her trust in his honest and earnest desire to help find the arsonists responsible for almost burning down the Hearth.

She sighs.

It had been an eventful two weeks, not only because her return to Snezhnaya had approached yesterday, but also because Clervie's reappearance -- as wonderful as it was -- had brought the metaphorical house of cards to crumble. Arlecchino was severely disappointed that one of her current children had been involved in the arson. She had hoped that all dissenters would’ve accepted the offer of her flames back in Poisson, to give them a clean slate from the Hearth. Oh, she was not disillusioned enough to think that some of them loathed her, but that was why she had Lyney and Lynette and Freminet, the three of them the heart of the modern House, all of them commanding loyalty from the remaining children in different ways.

To think that Salis had been the reason, had betrayed them and sold them out to former House members who were even Arlecchino’s seniors, all of them from her nebulous past. It was not even revenge against her, the motif, just against the House of the Hearth as a whole, against the fatui and their cruel ways, a vendetta against a woman Arlecchino had murdered with her own hands. Salis had been manipulated into the executioner of a grudge that hadn’t even been her own, in the end, but that of her parents.

The children certainly hadn't deserved it.

Oh, but they'd stood masterfully against the threat, the first time with the fire and relocation to Poisson, and in the aftermath as well. Especially in the past two weeks. Lyney might not like to admit it, but there was a reason Arlecchino had chosen him as her successor: he'd dealt with Salis' misgivings quickly, efficiently, brutally, but not without his trademark compassion, the one that held sway over all of the children. Freminet and Lynette, too, had performed without faults. It was thanks to Lynette that Felicien and Celine had been found, unconscious and poisoned by Salis. Her quick reaction -- waking up Heloir and whoever had been on hospice duty that night and informing Arlecchino -- had saved their lives.

And Freminet had been the catalyst; not only in bringing Clervie back to the Hearth, but also in bringing Salis' betrayal to light, his report of the first incident painting the girl in a light no-one else had seen before, her blatant insubordination and cruel disregard plain on paper for all to see. She had always been harsh around the edges, her distrust of Arlecchino not something belonging to her alone, as there had been other children – the twins included – that were wary of Arlecchino at first.

She was sorry, of course, that the children had been hurt by everything that had happened, but in the end--

it was the best possible outcome for the Hearth. In the days following the arrest, everyone had been brought in to give statements to the Iudex, the children dutifully giving recount of the past weeks', ever since Salis and Felicien had been given the assignment to trail the treasure hunter. They held a barbecue a handful of days later, too, Neuvillette sending along a cake in gratitude for their cooperation. The children had been happy, Clervie had watched everything with wide eyes, and Arlecchino, well.

She'd tugged Clervie to the side, aware that there were burned bridges and chasms as deep as the abyss between them, now. Clervie's expressions had said it all. "I will not apologize how I raised them," Arlecchino said, because she'd known what her old sister was about to remark. Sometimes, there was too much of Crucabena still in Arlecchino, and she could see it in the brutal efficiency of Lynette, in Freminet's too-quiet silences as he did his work, in Lyney's brittle-thin mask and his deep-seated mistrust of everything around him. In the end, Arlecchino was aware that she herself was a product of the old Hearth, no matter how much she wished for Peruere to burn away alongside everything else. "I only hope that, once I am gone, they will do a much better work of it."

Clerive hadn't known what to say to that.

That was fine. Just having her here, alive, it felt as if everything that Arlecchino has done, it was all worth it, to have Clervie look upon the House of the Hearth and not be terrified of it, anymore.

"You have until I come back from Snezhnaya to decide what you will do, I'm afraid," Arlecchino had continued, eyeing the playing children. Felicien had commandeered the grill, and Lyney was needling him to be faster. "Either you stay here as a Sznezhneva, working for the Hearth, or I will free you of your memories relating to the Organization, burning away everything that you have been."

Clervie would die, if she decided to swallow Arlecchino's flames, not that she knew it. She'd glanced down at Arlecchino's blackened fingers, no doubt having already heard about what had happened in Poisson. But Clervie had no memories to fall back onto, outside of her identity as a child of the Hearth, anymore than Arlecchino had: Clervie had been born into the institution, and Arlecchino did not remember a life before Crucabena.

"What would... what would you have me do, Director, if I stay? I can't... I can't go on missions anymore, please don't make me."

Director. Not Arlecchino, not Peruere, not Perrie.

Arlecchino had sighed. "Anastasya works both at the Northland branch and as our nurse, and one of our older sisters comes by every month as an instructor, spending her life quietly living in a nearby village. Be ready to decide once I'm back. Until then, Lyney has the last word." That would also be a first, that Lyney had say over the whole Hearth while she's gone -- usually she would ask the aforementioned Anastasya, or someone else who has been a fatui for longer than him. But she believed he was ready for it, now.

She eyes over the elegant curl of Neuvillette's letter one last time, slowly burning it in her palm to destroy the evidence. They had passed into Snezhnaya, daylight dwindling down, the northern lights slowly blinking into existence. Arlecchino stares at them, her breath still stolen even after seeing it for so many years, and she fervently hopes that she could gaze upon their beauty with Clervie together, now.

A last glance down at the letter has Arlecchino huff out a breath, her gaze returning fondly to the scenery outside.