|| The Harbinger's Guest ||

|| Part 18 ||

Note:
HeLLO!! It's been a while, yet again.

I've decided for the last few chapters I'm going to keep them quite small, so I can finish them quickly and have more motivation. I'm so so sorry for disappearing yet again, but if you're still here, I am eternally grateful. I promised myself I would finish this story. I hope you enjoy.

~

The main ballroom was far more vast and grand than the old one in the West Wing of the palace, instead showcasing polished floors and glowing chandeliers, bathing the room in a bright warm light. The tall, towering windows lining the opposite wall held little sign of freedom beyond, the night sky only providing darkness. Scaramouche's presence beside Aether was the only thing assuring him of his safety, but even that... didn't put him completely at ease.

The people inside wore glamorous clothing in an array of expensive dyes and patterns, showcasing their wealth and status, no doubt. Some of the clothing seemed more alike one another, in the same fashion as Aether had seen on other people in Snezhnaya, while others seemed like they had arrived from foreign lands. Most of the room seemed reserved for dancing, but there was a classical band playing on the opposite side of the room, raised by a stage about half a metre tall. There was also a long table across the far left of the ballroom, dressed in a white tablecloth, where the Jester and the Doctor were currently sitting. Meanwhile the rest of the harbingers seemed to be glittered around the room, speaking with guests. Tartaglia noticed Aether and Scaramouche while entertaining a pair of guests, politely excusing himself to walk over to them. He was wearing something like a military uniform in a light blue shade.

"Wow, you look nice," Tartaglia smiled at Aether. He glanced at Scaramouche, his smile turning into a playful smirk. "Did Scaramouche actually choose to wear something different for once? It's a shame you can never go somewhere without the hat."

Aether frowned, feeling like that comment had been a little insensitive, but then heard Scaramouche's scoff. "It's a shame you're not needed elsewhere, Childe. Like the abyss, for example..."

Tartaglia frowned. "Ha-ha."

Aether observed the exchange, and decided that their words did not hold any true malicious intent. Good. Tartaglia changed the subject. "Is everything set?"

Aether glanced around to see who could have heard, but supposed Tartaglia's words could just mean the preparation of the ball without any context of their situation. Scaramouche nodded in reply. "It should be. I'll leave you to it, Traveler."

"Where are you going?" Aether asked, turning his head to the Balladeer.

"I'm going to sit down. I'm not interested in dancing," Scaramouche shrugged.

"I find that hard to believe," Aether remarked.

Scaramouche's scowl returned before he turned away. "Well, no matter what your opinions are, I'm sitting down."

"Don't worry, bud," Tartaglia said as Scaramouche strode away. "Just stick with me."

Aether casted his eyes in Scaramouche's direction, where he had taken up a seat closer to Dottore than the others, yet still keeping his distance. Now that Aether considered it, his eyes drifting towards the Jester, he really didn't know much about most of the Harbingers up until now. Only Signora, Tartaglia, Dottore and of course, Scaramouche, had really made an appearance before he was taken here. He felt as if this wasn't the right time to meet them all.

Tartaglia walked towards the outside of the ballroom, and Aether followed closely behind. Some of the palace's staff were stepping around, handing out drinks in tall glasses and delicate little pieces of food. Intrigued, Aether took a piece that was offered to him, biting into it. Aether couldn't quite place what it was, sour and savoury at the same time, with a tiny hint of honey? Whatever it was, it was good. He took another bite.

"So you know what you're doing?" Tartaglia asked under his breath.

Aether stared ahead. He nodded.

"Good. I really don't think anyone other than Dottore feels interested in keeping you here," Tartaglia said slightly louder. "No offence."

Aether wondered why that might offend him before replying. "I don't think I was ever supposed to come here in the first place..."

Tartaglia eyed Aether for a moment before turning his gaze back to the room in front of him. "I'm sure you'll come back when the time is right."

"I think so too," Aether smiled for a moment. "Do you think anything will happen to you?"

Tartaglia understood what he meant. "Nah, they could never kick me out. I'm too special. Besides, if anyone, they'd pick on Scaramouche. We all know he's on thin ice."

"Why?" Aether asked.

"His loyalty is always being questioned," Tartaglia said. At least he kept his voice down. "He is powerful, but they worry he'll turn against them. I don't think he could do any serious damage, but with everything he knows, things could possibly go wrong. I'm not completely sure, I don't really follow that sort of thing."

It was Aether's turn to eye Tartaglia for a moment. "I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me."

"Don't worry, Traveler. Everything will work out— it always does for you eventually," Tartaglia smiled warmly.

Aether tried to return his smile. He knew there was supposed to be some sort of distraction before he had the chance to escape, so he watched the Harbinger's table and waited for something to happen. Soon, the rest of the Harbingers sat down at it, all but Tartaglia, who remained beside him. The chatter and movement of people around him passed him by, and he absentmindedly listened to the songs being played. Despite the warm atmosphere, Aether was more nervous than he had been since he first got here.

A while passed, and nothing had happened. Even Scaramouche was watching Pantalone expectantly. Pantalone chatted idly to Dottore, as if mocking the plan Scaramouche had prepared. Aether grew more nervous too. Aether noticed a shift as Pantalone looked forward again at the guests below him, crossing the dance floor and enjoying themselves. He motioned his hand up, taking his glass.

He sipped it. That was all. No announcement, no distraction. He even had a small smirk on his lips, as if he knew Scaramouche had been waiting.

Aether narrowed his eyes, and felt Tartaglia glance towards him, confused himself. Aether glanced down, his eyes widening now. What was he going to do now? Had he lost his one chance to escape? He shouldn't have relied on the Harbingers making a scene, of course the one time they wouldn't was when Aether counted on it—

Aether's internal condemnation was interrupted by a loud gasp from the crowd, and Aether looked up to see what was happening. His eyes flicked towards the Harbinger's table, where he caught what was happening just in time. An enraged Scaramouche had leapt across the table at lightning speed and knocked Pantalone off his chair, wrapping his hands around his neck and pinning the other to the ground as he buzzed with electricity. Aether's jaw dropped for a second before Tartaglia grabbed Aether's arm and hurried him towards the exit.

"I guess that was your distraction," Tartaglia chuckled lightly, as if the situation was a regular occurrence. It probably was, but Aether had no time to think about it. "Go, go!"

Aether spun on his heels and ran.