|| The Harbinger's Guest ||

|| Part 1 ||

~

He hissed at the building headache piercing his skull as soon as he was conscious enough to feel it. Aether was already sick of waking up this way. He just hoped his new cell was a bit more comfortable.

His body trembled. He wasn't sure if it was from the cold or from the gas that he had taken. Most likely a mix of both. He opened his eyes, looking up to a set of gigantic grey doors. He couldn't lift his head to see the rest of the structure before him. His feet dragged along the ground as he was being pulled along by the same two agents. He began walking, and it seemed like they suddenly became more alert. Aether looked either side of him, and noticed that this building must be huge. He also found more agents next to him, staying on guard.

"A bit excessive..." Aether grumbled to himself.

The doors slowly opened, revealing a giant room ahead. It was barely any warmer inside. The floor sparkled beneath him, as rays of colourful light shone from the stained glass windows circling the room. Those windows had the details of the Fatui's crest. Pillars of marble stretched throughout the hall, details of icy crystals along them, along with almost everything else inside. A navy blue carpet centred the room, going from the entryway all the way to the throne at the end of the room. The throne, a tall and proud silver structure, standing empty and opposing the Traveler. The ice spikes erupting from behind it added that dramatic flair that Aether had been waiting for.

Still, he wanted to thank whoever was responsible for the Tsarista's absence.

In front of the throne, though, we're all other ten Harbingers. At least, that's what Aether assumed by their matching white coats. They did not stand in a line, instead sitting far apart from one another, all in different ways. Divided. He could recognise only a few of them. Dottore, leaning against one of the pillars, with a raven-haired man beside him. Scaramouche, standing closest to Aether, a small smirk on his lips. Tartaglia... the furthest away, beside a very short old man. He could guess which Harbinger that was, but he really wasn't sure. Other than those names, Aether had no idea who was who.

Ten Harbingers. The eighth that remained in a foreign land, a scattered piece of rubble for all they knew. Her absence hung in the air. Aether could see the eyes glaring at him with absolute hatred, and others with mild amusement. He began to tell which of the ten were the most heartless. Scaramouche beside him noticed too.

"If they hadn't been given the orders to leave you alone, I'd place bets on who would rip you limb from limb first," the Balladeer whispered, a smile growing on his cold features.

"I wonder if they know what really happened," Aether muttered under his breath. "How another puppet killed her, and had every right to do it."

The Balladeer kicked him forward, making him fall to his knees in front of the group. "Why don't you tell them?"

He heard a chuckle from somewhere, yet he wasn't sure where from. All eyes were on him. He hated to prove Scaramouche right, but he couldn't bring himself to say a word in front of a group like this. Scaramouche stood level above him, his arms crossed as he eyed the rest of the Harbingers. Marking his property. His prey.

"The great Traveler, arrived at last," a cold voice said, stepping forward. "What an early visit..."

The man was tall with a strong build, and it seemed as if he had the most authority in the room. He wore a black and royal blue mask, covering the right side of his face. The shape was strangely familiar. In fact, his whole appearance seemed off. The colours reminded him of someone Aether had only met twice before. A knight. He seemed old, yet his face showed no sign of weakness. His long, snow-white hair was kept neat, along with the hair lining his sharp jaw. His eyes were lifeless. He had no smile.

"Someone give the poor thing a coat. He must be freezing," he tutted.

The agents beside him nodded, one of them walking off in search for a coat. Aether turned his head back to the unknown Harbinger, a look of both confusion and wariness in his eyes. He felt as if all the Harbingers had come a little closer.

"You may call me the Jester. I am number one of the Fatui Harbingers," the Jester introduced. "I apologise for the manner in which you were brought here."

Aether didn't know what to say. Didn't know if he could say anything. He narrowed his eyes.

"I believe you have met some of us. I won't waste time introducing everyone. You'll meet them soon enough," the Jester explained. "But I'm sure you're curious why you're even here at all."

"I'm here because I was defeated," Aether replied, surprised to hear himself speak. "You're here to punish me, aren't you?"

The Jester laughed. "I suppose that is true. But what you must know is that we don't plan on keeping you here for long."

Aether's eyebrows lifted in surprise. He almost had hope.

"The Tsarista had plans to meet you properly near the end of your journey. We know your intentions," the Jester continued. "For now, we will make use of your arrival. You'll be our guest here until our time with you is up."

Until I am no longer useful, Aether corrected him.

"Dottore is interested in studying you," the Jester added.

That glimmer of hope vanished.

"What are you planning on doing to me?" Aether questioned.

"Relax," Dottore drawled, who had been distracted by a vial of bright green liquid since the start of their conversation. "The Dendro Archon has made me promise not to harm you. I may bend these terms, but I have no plans on seriously damaging you."

Damaging. As if Aether was some object that could be damaged, broken, repaired.

"What a relief," Aether grumbled.

"Watch your tongue," Scaramouche spat. There was a glimmer of amusement hidden in the Balladeer's eyes. Aether was the only one who seemed to take notice.

The Jester chuckled. "I'm glad the Traveler hasn't lost his will. I can already tell that he'll manage well with us."

Aether narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"We hope to make you an ally by the end of this," the Jester answered. "If not, we may just erase your memory of this encounter."

~

Authors's note:

Hi, this is the author. This is a new storyline I've been working on for a little bit, and I'm looking forward to writing more. I haven't fully planned out what will happen, but I have the main idea. This has also not been fully edited, so if you see any mistakes please let me know lol.

My versions of the characters (and definitely Snezhnaya) may not be completely accurate, but I will try my best to make them as similar to the original as I can! Scaramouche is one of my favourite characters, and I think he deserves his own special fanfic.

Thanks for reading!