❝クラウンを高く着用する❞
wear your crown high
SNEAKING AROUND YOUR fiancé's back to spy on his every move might be rather excessive but the animosity between the two of you was too great to ignore. Until you could be sure that he was on your side, it felt like it was the necessary precautionary step to take.
"So? Would you like to work for me?" A smile laced your lips as you allowed your hands to fall to the tabletop, removing your chin from the palm of your hand. "If you choose not to, I suppose I can find someone else to replace you as a maid."
Sonia gasped, shaking her head. "N-No...! I'd... I'd be honored to..." Her head turned down, shame burning into her cheeks in dishonoring you by not jumping at the opportunity to accept your kind offer.
"Good. Starting today, you will be working for me. Monitor my fiancé's every movement and report to me alone. If I hear word of your betrayal, I will personally make sure you never find a job ever again." You warned, shooting her a cautionary smile to which Sonia nodded frantically.
"During tonight's banquet, I want you to keep a close eye on my fiancé. Keep an especially close eye on the people he is interacting with. I want their names and affiliations. Is that clear?" You advised, pushing away from your half eaten breakfast and rose from your seat, eyes fixed on Sonia. She nodded once more, gulping nervously.
Pleased with her response, you exited the dining room to return to your room in order to recuperate after breakfast, feeling rather queasy with the way the congee and eggs sat in your stomach. Each step felt heavy, each breath that you drew tasted like metal. You hurried to your room, frantically rushing towards the door. Your hand grasped the handle of the door to your room tightly, steadying yourself against the door. Heavy breaths elude you, feeling your stomach churn unhappily. Bile rose to the forefront of your throat, threatening to make an appearance.
"Young Master?"
You froze, hand lifting from the door handle to cover your mouth as you pivoted around to face Wenling who's arms and legs were covered in bandages. There was a leather brace over one of her legs, presumably broken. Your eyes widened at the sight, eyes glossing over her injured appearance— reminding you whose fault it was for your closest friend to end up in such a disabled state.
"Young Master— let's get you inside." She staggered towards the door to your room, opening it to help you inside. Once entering the room, Wenling reached for the waste bin sitting in the corner of the room and pulled it closer to you. You crumbled to your knees, head over the waste bin, gagging and coughing violently to push down the repulsive taste of vomit. Wenling moved to your side, gently rubbing circles against your back as you suppressed the horrid sight of your breakfast half digested. You coughed violently, spitting wads of saliva into the bin as you choked back retch.
Your chest felt tight; lungs failed to capture oxygen as you breathed deeply but you drew no air.
"W-Wenling... are you... okay?" You croaked, eyes flickering to the bandages wrapped around her arms and legs. Guilt riddled your words of sympathy, feeling responsible for what had happened because of her affiliation to you.
Wenling pursed her lips together, shaking her head at you. "Worry not, Young Master. It is my duty to protect you... and I failed... I am undeserving to be your maid."
Your eyes opened in bewilderment, prompting you to reach out to her, gently taking her calloused hands into your own, examining her hand in scrutiny. A deepening frown tugged at your lips as words of regret were kept to your heart.
Wenling looked up, her doe eyes flickering up to gaze into yours. Her words are soft, reassuring. "Young Master... do not fret over my condition. I assure you that I shall remain by your side for as long as Celestia allows me to breathe upon this earth."
"Wenling..." You muttered out, shaking your head at her. A tight-lipped frown grew more prominent on your face. "Wenling, I'm sorry..."
Wenling has witnessed your harrowing ordeals, calamity, and all. Death loomed over your life yet she remained close, standing by your side. Your sole friend— one that you didn't coerce into befriending you through manipulation or money. One that trusted you, offered up her life to you. She was your shield, your sole protector when the world was too cruel to you.
Yet you failed as her friend to protect her with what you could provide with what material wealth you possess.
"Are you done weeping?"
You turned your head, glancing over your shoulder to see your frowning fiancé, in his normal garb stripped of his hat, standing by the open door to your room.
Absolutely no respect for privacy nor a shred of decency. You kept your thoughts to yourself, glaring at your fiancé.
"I'm done, thank you very much." You snapped at him, your words dripping in sarcasm. You shoved the waste bin aside and shakily stood from your crouched position.
"Why did you eat something you know would upset your stomach?" Scaramouche raised an eyebrow at you.
"Why? Because I was craving some comfort food since my dear friend was practically on her deathbed and you, my fiancé lacks the ability to display any sort of emotions other than anger, arrogance, and dissatisfaction towards me." You almost yelled, shaking your head at him.
"You're hurting yourself." He hissed back, glowering at you.
"You actually care about my well-being? Wow! That's a first! I'm quite surprised you cared at all!" You gestured at him dramatically, rolling your eyes at him in annoyance.
"Young Master." Wenling's stern warning made you freeze and reel back the words that you were about to spat at your fiancé. You held your tongue, unwilling to let poison spill from your lips. You turned your head away from him, unable to keep looking at him.
"How distasteful. Do you have no self restraint? Must your maid do everything for you?" He snarled at you.
You bit back insults at his venomous choice of words, opting for pettiness and subtle spitefulness. "I suppose that's what happens when I've lived most of my life as a powerful heiress, my dear Scaramouche."
He ignored your petty comment, going forth with what he was initially going to discuss with you. "Back on topic, regarding the dinner banquet tonight. Are we still going to host this at Yuehai Pavillion? Even after the attack?"
"There are no other places in Liyue that hold the same prestige as Yuehai Pavillion." You grumbled back, shaking your head at him.
"A grand-scale attack could injure many. Those who attend are high-class merchants and family friends of your father's, correct? We wouldn't want to ruin relations with them at your celebration." He argued, pointing out the obvious.
"Where do you suggest we host this dinner banquet?" You voiced your displeasure against him, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Northland Bank. At least my men are capable of protection unlike the Millelith." Scaramouche mused, sneering at you with his obvious choice of location.
You withheld your thoughts, reeling back the words that rested heavily against your tongue. Hosting the dinner banquet at Northland Bank would indeed be beneficial for you— especially for your new recruit. Sonia could easily pass as one of the many servers and your fiancé would suspect nothing out of the ordinary.
"Wenling, draft up that revised invitation to the Qixing. We'll host the banquet at Northland Bank tonight." You commanded without argument towards your fiancé. Your maid nodded, bowing to the two of you before she hobbled out of the room. With the doors closed, the condemning silence grew deafening. Your eyes trailed to Scaramouche, noting his scowling expression.
"A colleague of mine will be at the party tonight. Dress well, remember that you're representing me." Scaramouche muttered, head turning towards the doorway. Clearly, he wasn't pleased.
Perhaps that's what he was discussing with that Fatui agent this morning. You thought to yourself, staring at your fiancé.
"Are they another Harbinger friend of yours?" You asked inquisitively, eyeing your fiancé carefully.
"Unfortunately, he is." Scaramouche scowled, confirming your suspicions. His response made you curious as to which Harbinger you would be meeting next— and what impression you were going to leave upon him considering last time, you left Signora all alone when your stomach started to act up.
"Speaking of people you don't like, Yi-Eun will be at the banquet tonight." Immediately upon hearing Yi-Eun's name, your fiancé's face twisted into something resembling disgust and displeasure— even more so at the mention of his fellow Harbinger.
"Why must he be there?" It was his turn to despair over your words.
"He's the head of his family business now. Of course he will be present."
Scaramouche scowled at your answer. "My question was meant to be rhetorical but thank you for reminding me."
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." You grumbled under your breath in hopes that he wouldn't hear you.
"I heard that."
Damn. You cursed silently, clearing your throat before switching to a different topic entirely— one you were weary to speak about.
"How's the investigation going?"
Scaramouche took a seat upon your bed, smoothing out the cotton sheets beneath him. "I have a team looking into it. Of course, we aren't treating this like an ordinary death on Snezhnaya grounds. There's obviously some foul play."
"Foul play... huh..." You muttered quietly. His words didn't ease the disturbed storm of contention within you.
Scaramouche's eyes flickered to your quivering figure, examining your shaken expression. A languid sigh left his lips as he smoothed out the sheet of your bed beside him, patting it gently. "Come here."
With your eyes averted from the floor, you stared at the space beside your fiancé with great scrutiny before taking three timid steps forward, standing over him. Scaramouche raised an eyebrow at you before repeating his gesture to sit beside him. Reluctantly, you did as he had wanted, sitting beside him though leaving a considerable distance between in keeping mind with your comprehension that he could've ordered your assassination.
"Why are you sitting so far from me?" He asked, taking note of your shifting discomfort.
"You don't seem to care about maintaining a functional marriage, why should this matter to you?" You lied, your gaze falling to your folded hands resting against your thighs. A sigh audibly left his lips upon hearing your sentiment.
"Eyes up, look at me." Scaramouche ordered sternly. This time, you complied with his order.
His amethyst hues are brilliant; like opalescent pools of the midnight sky meeting the dimming purple skyline. His pale complexion contrasted his dark navy hair. Complimentary red liner sculpted the wings of his eyes, extending his upper lashes. Your fiancé is handsome, you didn't disapprove of that but unfortunately, his handsome face is marred by that poisonous mouth of his. If it wasn't for his disagreeable personality, you would've liked him a lot more.
"You're afraid." He observed quietly, right hand reaching out to gently cusp your cheek. Instinctively, you pressed your lips together to cease the quivering as his thumb neared your lips, gently coaxing you to relax.
"What are you so scared of?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper.
I'm afraid of you.
You didn't know how to respond to his question. Temptation urged you to blurt out all of your troubles to the man who sat beside you, whom you called your fiancé and yet, you lacked the courage to do so. Issues upon issues drove you to the brinks of divulging every piece of controversy that entered your mind. He sat before you, as a potential foe. Yet he could be a friend.
"What if the same thing happens again...?" You asked quietly, your hand placed over his, pressing his hand closer to your face. You chose to play the innocent game.
Scaramouche went quiet for once, eyeing your figure in solitude before pulling his hand away from your face. "An attack? Don't be ridiculous— no such thing will happen if my men are guarding the place."
You scooted closer to him, back easing into his body warmth for comfort to test him. He tensed against your sudden contact but surprisingly didn't move away. Instead, his slender arms snaked around your waist, gently holding you with minimal contact. You were pleased by this.
Scaramouche cocked his head aside, lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. "And I'll be there to make sure you're safe at all times. I would never allow anything to happen to you."
Your hands wandered to your torso, placing your own over his once again. "If you say so..." You said, feigning uncertainty.
"There's nothing to be afraid of." He muttered, eyes watching for your reaction. He saw trepidation in your eyes, a calm wash of fear glossed over them.
"Do you think everything will turn out alright?" Your voice was light and airy, like sunlight skidding over soft waves of Liyue Harbor.
The Harbinger hummed in response, taking in the somber atmosphere. Ambiguity shrouded his answer but you took it as a 'yes'. You leaned into his touch, smoothing out the turmoils that ran rampant in your mind. At one end, you wanted to believe that he did care. That Scaramouche did love you in some twisted way. Yet, your mind conflicted with what your heart wanted to believe. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer— a Liyue saying that resonated your sentiments. Was he attempting to keep you close to manipulating you in the future?
"Why did you agree to marry me?" Your voice caused soft ripples in the calm sea. You attempted to hold gaze with the Harbinger but his eyes wandered elsewhere. Occasionally, the thoughts of whether you held any significance to your fiancé would rise to the forefront of your mind. If not, it was just another bitter pill to swallow.
"Because the Tsaritsa willed it." It was a straightforward answer, one you expected but you felt some semblance of dismay over his words.
A leveled sigh escaped you as you pulled yourself away from his touch, feeling the ghost of warmth leave your skin. Eyes trained upon the large wooden closets before you heard scuffling behind you, the mattress of the bed groaning as Scaramouche stood up.
"I have some prior arrangements to attend to. Remember to dress nice for tonight." Splayed words of honesty reached your ears. You nodded tentatively, watching as your fiancé left the room without another word, much less another spare glance.
Empty soliloquies of silence rang in your ears as you sifted through the abundance of clothing options within the closet provided by the Fatui. Some were elaborate and clearly chosen with your taste and fashion in mind while others were simply closet essentials. One in particular caught your eye; a lapis colored suit piece embroidered with gold silk threads on the shoulder pads. A black corset lacing down center front with golden grommets lining each side. A pair of the same colored dress pants lay on the shelf beside it. In comparison to the other lavish outfits set inside the closet, this suit piece stood out most. Evidentially, Scaramouche had already picked your regalia for tonight out for you.
Your fingers danced over the midnight fabric, a rich blend of soft cottons with tartan. It isn't half bad, you thought to yourself as you took it off of the rack, placing it against your body to measure. The measurements were relatively right, a bit loose fitting but you could easily find someone to tailor fit the suit to you.
Lavish parties, precious gemstones, fine-crafted raiments; none of which truly appealed to you. You sat upon a throne of vanity— this glass posit of empty vainglory. You've seen frugality, you've seen luxury yet you could not claim it as your own. Nothing, including your own life, felt like it was your own. Everything was laid out for you. Wealth, status, authority; what do you gain from it all?
NIGHT CAME SWIFTLY without much disturbance. The new invitation of your banquet with the location switch had been sent out hours ago per your request. You arrived at Northland Bank before your fiancé, surveying the dining area to certify perfection befitting your family name. It was a banquet in your honor, after all.
Honey-colored light casted over your navy figure as you inspected every aspect of the reception with an inquisitive eye. Lace tablecloth decorated the reception tables, vases of white lilies laid atop the cloth. Food laid upon the banquet table had been freshly prepared by local restaurants. Glasses of alcohol laid ready on the tables, the finest of Mondstadt's dandelion wine and Fontaine's bubbly champagne. Sanguine and opalescent fluid swirled inside, the soft hues of golden light beamed down onto the transparent crystal.
Your eyes scanned the foyer, watching as Fatui servants hurried about with trays of food and champagne or wine in hand. One particular servant that hurried by caught your eye, prompting you to reach out for her shoulder, fingers grasping the sleeves of her uniform. Sonia's eyes met yours, confusion and fear instilled within her aquamarine orbs.
"M-Master (l/n)..." Sonia's voice quivered, feigning a smile.
"Do not forget your mission." You whispered in passing, taking a glass of ruby liquor from her silver platter. Sonia nodded, taking a few steps back and bowing respectfully before hurrying away. You watched her hurried to the backrooms of the foyer to bring out more bottles of alcohol.
You turned your attention to the glass, swirling the liquid with mild intrigue. You brought the crystal to your lips, taking a sip of vintage liquor. The taste of tart, sour wine, with a hint of sweetness, hit your tongue. Your nose scrunched up in distaste, setting the half-drank glass down.
"Do you not fancy yourself a glass of wine?" Scaramouche's voice rasped against your skin, causing you to shudder. His slender fingers grasped around the stem of the wine glass, examining the drink.
"I'm technically still underaged. Though, I have to say, I do not understand the appeal of alcohol—" Your breath hitched, feeling as your fiancé leaned over to swipe his thumb over your wine-stained ruby lips. Your eyes flickered up to meet him, examining his face for any sign of reaction.
You pulled away from his touch, reeling back from Scaramouche as you snapped at him. "What do you think you're doing?"
He scoffed at you. "Appreciating my fiancé's fine looks, what else?"
"Don't flatter me with your empty words." You retorted incredulously, scowling at him. "What took you so long? You were almost late to your fiancé's banquet."
"Busy with work," he replied in haste.
"It's always work... Work this, work that. Does your work come before your spouse?" You mumbled under your breath, shaking your head at him.
"Do behave yourself when the guests come in." His voice was stern as he addressed your behavior, ignoring your protest and instead, opted to gesture at the Fatui agents by the doors of Northland Bank to impatient guests outdoors. With the wave of his hand, the doors opened; lavished guests arrived with their opulent dinner gowns and suits, they rushed into the building, admiring the interior design of Northland Bank.
"Chin up and smile. Remember who you belong to." Scaramouche whispered into your ear before going forth to address the attendees of the banquet with the help of an elevated platform in the center. You wandered to the back of the foyer, staying in the back to observe.
"Welcome, one and all. As (y/n)'s fiancé, I am pleased to see each and every one of you here tonight. I am Scaramouche, titled the Skirmisher, and Sixth of the Fatui Harbinger."
You turned your fiancé's greetings out, electing to scan the crowd for familiar faces. Some, you recognized, as heirs and heiresses of their respective families. Most members of your adoptive father's board; old, forty-fifty year old men with their eye candy wives in arm. Even those who had asked your hand in marriage are present, intermingling with the others. They looked bored, the younger heirs desperately eyeing the food and drinks whilst others were evidently looking for you.
"Thank you for your congratulations on our engagement. Please, enjoy the refreshments and alcohol. Indulge yourself." Scaramouche finished his salutation speech, nodding to the crowd before returning to your side in the back.
He spared you a side glance, noting your lack of enthusiasm before nudging your side to remind you. "Smile, (y/n)."
His reminder elicited a labored sigh from you, prompting me to put up a feigned smile. You linked arms with your fiancé, walking towards the center of the social circle. Many side glances were exchanged amongst the young heirs, heiresses, and wives alike; looks of envy and malice traded as you made your way into the eye of the social hurricane. Resentment filled the air— seeing you and Scaramouche together.
"Ah~ the young heiress has finally decided to show up!" You reared your head, gauging the owner of the voice. A middle-aged man, misted with a drunken stupor. In one hand, he held a glass of sanguine liquor and the other held his (very young) wife who looked less than pleased to be attending the banquet.
"It's nice to see you here, Li Wei. I hope the wine is to your liking." You greeted the drunken man with a feigned smile, bowing your head in respect for seniority. Your eyes were fixed upon his wife, having never met her before. "Scaramouche... This is my late father's friend, Li Wei. His family is a close relative to the Yuheng's."
Your fiancé's distrusting eyes landed upon the tipsy gentleman, who was busy gulping down another glass of wine. The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lip as he extended a hand out to Li Wei. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Li Wei."
"Likewise! I'm absolutely delighted to meet you, Sixth of the Fatui Harbinger. You know, I was quite shocked to hear the news of the engagement! A (l/n) marrying a Fatui Harbinger? That's unheard of! Bahahaha!" Li Wei laughed himself into a fit of coughs which prompted his wife to excuse him. You nodded, sending his young wife your 'thank you' before she left the circle.
"What a gluttonous drunkard," your fiancé whispered into your ear, his words prompting you to laugh for the first time that night.
Following the exchanged greetings with Li Wei, you introduced your fiancé to a number of your family friends (primarily friends of your adopted father's). Many wives and heirs alike came rushing up to you, asking for gossip and clarifying rumors of your engagement. You obviously refuted any ridiculous claims and set the story straight though some looked less than pleased to hear the truth. The crowd was never pleased with the truth. By the end, you felt rather strained from the endless conversation.
Not to mention the intoxicating scent of tart wine and sweets wafted the air, making you increasingly more nauseous as time went on. Eventually, you excused yourself for some fresh air.
Twilight took claim of the moonlit sky. Stars danced, twinkling and shimmering like jewels in the sea of dusk. The summer night breeze was gentle, warm. You breathed it in, a slow and steady breath. Sea salt invaded your senses, the wind carried the undertones of bamboo, damp earth, and spices. It smelled like home.
"Ah, there you are. I've been looking for you this whole time."
Peaceful times came to a crashing halt against harsh reality as the voice of Yi-Eun interrupted your tranquil isolation from the buzzing party. Hearing his voice was less than pleasing to you though his choice of words disgusted you more.
"Hello... Yi-Eun..." You greeted him dryly, turning your attention elsewhere. Suddenly, the golden threads of your suit became so very intriguing to pick at.
"For once, that Fatui bastard isn't clinging to your side like a damn magnet." Yi-Eun flashed you a charming, yet unnerving smile. Had your fiancé been present to hear Yi-Eun's words, Scaramouche would not hesitate to jump at his neck.
"Yi-Eun, that 'Fatui bastard' is my fiancé." You warned, eyes trained on the stars.
"Why did you agree to marry that bastard?" Yi-Eun snapped, ignoring your comment.
You pursed your lips together tightly. "He has money... and status."
Yi-Eun raised an eyebrow at you. "Really? I thought you hated that stuff."
"Does it matter? He's the one I am marrying and there's no changing that fact." You stood your ground firmly, shaking your head at the dark haired male before you.
"You're the head of the family now. You can choose to break off the engagement— why have him when you can have me?" His voice grew louder with each rebuttal. You feared that someone may overhear the conversation between the two of you.
"Yi-Eun, we've been over this before." You said sternly, taking a step back from him. "We can't go back and change the past."
"Can't repeat the past?! Why of course you can!" Yi-Eun bellowed at you, his incredulous tone rising. He took two steps forwards, grabbing hold of your wrist. He pushed you back against the balcony banister, towering over you. Pain winced through you as his fingers dug into your flesh.
"You're supposed to be mine. I cannot stand that man around you." He hissed at you angrily, tightening his grip on your wrist. You attempted to pry his grip away, reeling your wrist away from him but it proved to be futile as Yi-Eun pinned you against the banister, trapping you.
"Get off of me." You snapped in response.
"Not until you call off that engagement in front of everyone." Steels orbs glinted darkly, slivers of anger flickering like embers.
"You're pathetic." You sneered at him, ripping away from his hard grasp before pushing him aside.
Yi-Eun hobbled backwards, staring at you in shock and disbelief. His jaw hung open, mouth agape in a stupefied state. He balled his fist, ready to strike you as he drew his arm back. "You—"
"Am I interrupting something?"
Yi-Eun's wrist was seized by an unfamiliar man. Tufts of fluffy auburn hair framed his face. Cerulean blue hues that were reminiscent of the stormy ocean. His choice of dress was odd for a evening party such as this; grey pants and a similarly grey top tied off with a tattered crimson scarf— his wear resembled the uniforms of the Fatui. A playful smirk laced his lips as he glanced down at the furious Yi-Eun.
"Why you! Who the hell do you think you are?!" Yi-Eun hissed, attempting to free himself of the man's strong grip.
The Snezhnayan laughed of mirth, watching in amusement as Yi-Eun tried to pry himself away. "I'm no one special. Just trying to help someone in distress." He winked in your direction, addressing you.
"You'll regret this!" He yelled at you, pointing at you accusingly. You watched as Yi-Eun tore away from the taller man, storming off in a huff of anger.
"Are you okay?" He asked you, approaching you slowly with a smile on his lips.
"I'm... fine." You muttered, looking down at reddened wrist, opting to hide it behind your back.
The stranger chuckled. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. I stepped in at the right time, hm?"
Immediately, a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you frantically thanked the stranger for intervening to which he laughed and shook it off. "No worries. Forgive me for my informalities and intrusiveness, I couldn't help myself."
"Oh no... Thank you very much. I'm not sure what I would've done with him..." You smiled lightly.
"Was it a lover's quarrel?" He mused, grinning wickedly at you. A mischievous glint shimmered in his abyssal oceanic eyes.
You shook your head aggressively, shuddering at the thought. "No, no! He's more of a childhood friend...?"
He chuckled softly. "You sound unsure."
"He's a completely different person now. I don't even recognize him." You admitted in quietude.
"Mm... I understand. A colleague of mine has recently went some changes in his personality. He's a lot more mellow than before." The man replied, leaning against the banister, eyes fixed on the full moon above.
You turned your attention to him, intrigued in his response. "Colleague?"
He nodded, laughing. "He's engaged to someone, you see. I think this person has mellowed him out. He's been spending a lot of time around his fiancé."
"Is that so?" You smiled, oblivious to the meaning of his words. "May I ask for your name, sir?"
His focus turned to you, cerulean eyes bore into yours— a cold shiver shuddered through your body. "Apologies, I haven't even introduced myself. I'm number eleven of the Fatui Harbinger, Childe. But please call me Tartaglia."
Realization dawned upon you, the slow and gradual epiphany of who this man was. The man whom your fiancé told you to be presentable towards. It's rather embarrassing to be caught in such a compromising position by Scaramouche's fellow Harbinger but your mind was elsewhere. Suddenly the meaning of Childe's words became exponentially more meaningful— his statement of his colleague becoming different...
"Ah... so you're the Harbinger that Scaramouche spoke of..." You muttered quietly, laughing in awkward contention.
"Oh? The Sixth spoke of me?" Childe grinned at you in amusement. "Nothing good, I assume. I do feel rather bad for you though, being married to someone like that."
"Are you mocking me, Tartaglia?" Your fiancé's words pierced through the air. Suddenly, air became stale and stagnant at Scaramouche's thunderous presence (in spite of his obvious height disadvantage).
"Mm...? Why, of course not!" Childe mused, smiling gleefully at your fiancé's rage.
"You bastard." Scaramouche snarled at him, malice clouded his eyes. Purple sparks flickering around his hand, the scent of bloodlust filled the air. "I'll put you in your place."
"Vexed as always. And here I thought your engagement has mellowed you out." Childe flashed him a wicked look, baring teeth at the shorter Harbinger. "But I'm not here for a fight. You should thank me though. I had just saved your fiancé."
Scaramouche lowered his hand, allowing the sparks to die out. He raised an eyebrow at the Eleventh. "What are you on about now?"
"He 'saved' me from Yi-Eun's unwanted advances." You interrupted, clearing the air of suspicion. You watched as Scaramouche clicked his tongue in distaste.
"Your fiancé's telling the truth, Scaramouche." Childe merely smirked at his fellow colleague who was absolutely fuming with every word that left Childe's mouth.
"Your input is not required." Scaramouche snapped at Childe, glowering at him.
Childe laughed, shaking his head before turning his attention to you, bowing quickly. "It is my absolute pleasure to meet you, (y/n). Oh, and congratulations on the engagement."
He exited without another verbal skirmish with your fiancé, winking at you as he walked back into the venue.
"What the hell happened?" Scaramouche seized your arm, lifting the fabric of your suit and stared at the darkened skin around your wrist.
"Yi-Eun... He tried to convince me to break off the engagement with you... wanted me to marry him instead. Your colleague stepped in and stopped the situation from getting too serious." Your voice was as quiet as the whistles of the wind. You feared that your words may enrage him once more.
"You ought to be more careful about being alone." He warned, examining your wrist intently before pulling away. A passage of silence elapsed before he spoke up.
"What do you think of Tartaglia?" His voice was softer than usual, quietly rippling through the air. You raised an eyebrow at your fiancé as the two of you stood beneath the moonlit sky.
"Him? He's... charming in a way. But he also frightens me." You laughed quietly.
"... Frightened?" Scaramouche repeated in intrigue.
"The way he conducts himself... it's very candid and driven. There's something about him that's awfully off putting." You answered, turning to your fiancé in curiosity. "Why'd you ask?"
"It's nothing." He answered too quickly, eyes averting away from your figure.
You stared at him in stunned silence, pondering the reasoning behind his sudden question. It was very unlike him to inquire without purpose. His entire mannerism and conduct was very uncharacteristic of him.
"(y/n)," you froze, slowly looking up to meet his gaze.
"Never mind. The thought had just slipped my mind. Let us go back." He turned his back to you, walking back towards the venue without another spared look. You were left stunned, confused but followed him nonetheless.
It was apparent that Scaramouche was once again hiding something from you.
The melodic tunes of waltzes serenaded the settling crowd as each began to find a place to be seated. The tables were pushed to the side of the building, creating space for dancing. Ballroom dancing was not a traditional Liyue tradition but you were taught the very basics of dancing when you were younger. It was important for any heir to learn how to dance if they were a member of the aristocracy.
"Let us give a round of applause to the two newly engaged!" A rupture of thunderous applause reverberated off the walls as the two of you walked back in. The expectations of a dance beginning with the two of you as celebrated fiancés' were high.
"Do you know how to dance?" You asked Scaramouche, leaning close to his side as the two of you walked to the center of the floor, hundreds of eyes fixed on the two of you.
"Naturally." He rolled his eyes at you, shooting you a dirty look. "And you?"
"Taught me when I was younger. Don't expect much." You whispered to him in a hushed murmur. A smirk grew on his face upon hearing your answer.
Scaramouche took your right hand into his, and placed a hand upon your hip before nodding off to the orchestra to continue playing the waltz. His movements were more fluid than you had expected. He guided your rigidity as the two of you swayed from side to side, arm in arm. Soon, a crowd of other couples quickly joined, dancing around the two of you, laughing and smiling while you waltz in silence.
How nice. You thought to yourself as joyous couples danced by.
"Why the long face?" Your fiancé's intrusive words cut through your melancholic thoughts.
"Oh... it's nothing." You eyed the many passing wives and heirs, all smiling in jubilation. There was bitterness of green jealousy that arose in your chest at the sight of them.
"You're quite bad at lying." He pointed out.
"Does it matter to you?" You turned to face him, grimacing at his smirk.
"It's a banquet in celebration of our engagement and your succession. You should be happy. Or at least pretend to be." He answered, intertwining his fingers with yours. The arm snaked around your backside held you just a bit tighter than before.
"At least I can pretend to be happy. Unlike you, dear Scaramouche." You rasped back, bittersweet words leaving your lips.
"Perhaps acting isn't my forte. But we do need to put on a show, yes?" He replied as the two of you took the last few steps of the waltz before another rupture of applause echoed around you two.
Crescendos of the final chord rang out, dulcet of mellifluous notes resounded through the air. Light beamed down at the two of you, his hand holding yours, fingers laced together.
Scaramouche pulled you close, his other hand snaked around your wrist, pressing your lower back. Everyone waited in anticipation, holding their breaths as your fiancé's intention became increasingly more apparent as he leaned closer to your face, lips ghosting over yours. You took a sharp inhale, breathing in his electrifying scent of summer storms, musky earth, and sweet florals. He brought his lip to your, capturing your lips against his; it was a swift, fleeting kiss. He pulled back, removing the hand from your back and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip as he had done the same that night. His eyes lacked affection but his honeyed words challenged what you saw in the pools of amethyst, lit by golden light.
"You're mine."
—
END OF CHAPTER SEVEN