𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐍 ↷ scaramouche x reader

CHAPTER TEN . 死のダルケット

Vainglorious was the word you often used to describe your adoptive father— his fixation with obtaining more wealth and honor had finally caught up to him.

Evidentially, growing up without a mother figure in your life meant you lacked the capacity of comprehending the ideals of nurture and love. What you read in fairy tales and myths contradicted what you saw within your own adoptive parents. Marriage, as you perceived it, was supposed to be picturesque, this elysian of love. What you saw, in reality, was the continual scrutinizing of one another— the infidelity and the arguments. There was no love and if there was left, the passions of romance had long been extinguished under the heels of lechery.

What she had taught you about the concept of love and compassion eluded you; as her ideals died with her. You grew without her teachings, learning only from what you read and saw.

There was a semblance of Ying Yue in Wenling— the gentleness and benevolence of maternal instincts. Your head maid has been with you since the start, hired to look after you as a friend and servant. She is four years your senior and though she wasn't much older than you, she is certainly gifted with a maturity you did not have. Though you never saw your mother in your personal maid, she did dote on you like one. Perhaps it was more of an instinctual habit of looking after you.

"Your mother was a good woman." Wenling often said to you, repeating the sentiments of your dead mother to remind you of how much Ying Yue supposedly cared about you.

"What's so good about her anyway?"

Those sentiments fell on deaf ears as you grew to feel apathetic towards your mother. Maybe it was the beatings by her husband that drowned out the feelings of motherly love. Maybe it was her inability to cast away the pain and suffering you crumbled under whenever her husband was around. Maybe it was the fact that she had left you to fend for yourself through the rigorous training that you weren't prepared to undergo. Maybe it was the feeling of abandonment that was too far too familiar for you and in that, you detested her for leaving you.

Everything culminated into one ugly response whenever your mother's name was uttered in your presence— hatred. Disgust, abhorrence, abomination, detestation; you absolutely loathed her name and existence.

All of her presence had been wiped clean, her memorabilia, painting, and photography. You did not wish to see the woman who had abandoned you after swearing to protect you, to love you. You took it upon yourself to rid her presence everywhere (of which your late adoptive father agreed with). Slowly, Ying Yue's existence faded to a tormented backdrop of violent youth and wretched childhood. She became nothing more than a bad dream, a nightmare.

Often, the question of whether or not your adoptive father has finally seized your independence came to question. Were your thoughts and feelings a product of your own personal belief? Or was it the cruel teachings and influence of the despicable man who claimed to be your father figure?

Even though you detested Li Chen as much as the woman who had forsaken you— there was no doubt that he still possessed leverage over your life. That shadow of compliance you remained under, it wasn't so easy to escape.

It was that very darkness that you thrived in; the plague and disparage. Your domain of sovereignty— the only aspect of control you had over your own life. Li Chen had only ever taught you to harm, to taint, and to tarnish. Ying Yue had only ever taught you the woes of love; how love was used to hurt others, how love could only bring others pain, how love did not exist.

Romance could not persist— romance only brought on ruination and suffering. Blind love came and went, dying as the embers of passion were smothered by the quarrels and tumult of woes.