Aether woke up, nestled in between the sheets. He batted his eyes open, and his heart jumped when he took in his surroundings. He forgot that this was his new room. It was empty. Scaramouche was nowhere to be seen, and the fireplace was put out. The atmosphere was cold and icy, as a stream of colourless light pierced through the window on his left. The sun was trapped behind the clouds, as it must usually be in Snezhnaya. Aether sat up, running a hand through his braid. His memory of last night was a blur.
He sat up, stepping out of the bed. As soon as he did, he felt himself begin to shiver. He looked around, looking up at the false stars. When they were lit by that warm, orange glow, they were a thousand times brighter, and a million times more beautiful. Aether walked over to the fireplace, and searched for a match to light the charred wood beneath. He didn't have much of a choice but to use them. He found a small box of matches and expertly lit up another fire, blowing into the flames and watching it grow. He sat huddled nearby it, collecting the warmth, making sure to keep his hair far away from it.
After soaking in the warmth, he stood up and placed the matches back on the top of the fireplace. His eyes wandered straight to the box. Scaramouche's box. He looked around again, knowing that the room was completely empty. If he just had one peek, how would he ever know? After last night, though, he was conflicted with going against his one rule.
It's not like he wouldn't deserve it if Aether did check the box...
Oh, why not?
Aether looked around once more, and reached up to open the box.
Locked.
Of course it wasn't that easy.
He looked around, narrowing his eyes. His elemental sight still remained, and the chances of the key carrying electro energy were... slim, but if they were in here, and not with Scaramouche somehow, there was a chance he could find them. He looked at the box, and the smallest traces of electro were around it. He looked around, and found some more near the chair.
He approached it, looking carefully. He checked underneath it first and found nothing, as expected. Then, he checked in between the cushion and the arm. Left side, nothing. Right side...
A small, golden, rusted key sat at the very bottom, without any trace of electro on it. His elemental sight hadn't really helped him at all, but at least he found the key. He looked back at the box, key in hand, and considered the action once again.
Where is Scaramouche anyway? Aether wondered. How soon will he be back?
He walked back up to the fireplace and inserted the key into the small keyhole in the box. He twisted it, and felt the latch inside release. He paused, thinking about it one more time.
If I'm going to do it, I'll need to do it now, he thought.
He lifted up the lid of the box, and looked at the object inside. His heart sank. It was... a small doll. It was new, resembling its owner with its hair and white clothes. A single tear fell from its eye. Aether knew what it was for. Why it was here. Why it was special. He started to feel sick. No, he shouldn't have done this—
He felt a hand suddenly grasp his wrist, tightly and forcefully. He hadn't even heard anyone walk up to him. Aether knew who it was before he turned his head to them, his eyes wide.
"Keep your hands away." Scaramouche snarled, his words laced with pure anger. "What did I tell you?!"
Scaramouche pulled him away, his nails digging hard into Aether's skin. Aether stood perplexed, unable to say anything. All he could do was stare at him, his eyes wide... not with fear. Scaramouche didn't know what to say either. His hand shook as he gripped Aether, his eyes lit by his complete and utter rage. You could see the thoughts running through his eyes. They were all one word.
Die. Die. Die.
"I had one request," Scaramouche seethed, his grip somehow becoming tighter. "You— get out of my sight!"
Scaramouche tore away his hand, and Aether stumbled back. Scaramouche took the key from inside the box and locked it once again, his back turned to Aether. Aether stumbled back, looking at the red mark on his wrist. He knew he deserved it, but he wasn't about to beg him for forgiveness. At least he knew what was there. He looked at the Balladeer only once more before turning away and looking for his clothes.
There was a knock at the door, and the two inside the room looked up towards it, both unable to say a word. The door opened, and a woman dressed in the Fatui uniform walked a step inside.
"Dottore is ready to see you now," she said plainly.
~
Aether walked down the hallway, far colder than before. Scaramouche walked beside him, wearing the Harbinger's coat. Aether wore his coat too, but it didn't feel as comforting as it was before. The woman who had given them their message walked ahead of them, leading them down the levels of the palace in a way that gave Aether little to no chance of remembering the way back. Intentional.
There was an uncomfortable silence between the Traveler and the Balladeer, but then again, there always had been. This was just... worse. The woman ahead of them led them further and further down the hallway, and the deeper they went, the less effort there was into the design of the structure. This went on until they reached a wooden door, almost like the cellar door at the Dawn Winery. Unlike the Dawn Winery, there was a strange smell coming from inside. It was like a faint bundle of strange chemicals that made Aether's nose feel a little cold. The woman opened it, but she did not step inside.
"He'll be waiting for you inside," she explained.
Aether's jaw tightened, and he slowly followed Scaramouche as he made his way into the room. Past the doorway, the narrow room was made completely out of smooth stone. Aether followed Scaramouche through the dimly lit hallway. There were lights against the walls, almost like torches, yet there was no use of fire.
The strange corridor was curving in strange directions, and it almost felt as if they were going further down. They exchanged no words, but Aether almost wanted to say something. He had no idea what would be waiting for him in Dottore's laboratory. He had rested enough. There was still the chance he could fight his way out.
It took longer than Aether expected to reach the next door, which was far more different than the one from before. It was made completely out of steel, and there was a window at the top of it. It was too blurred for Aether to see anything out of it. Scaramouche opened the door, and as soon as it opened Aether felt that smell from before become far more heightened. It made his head start to feel fuzzy.
Scaramouche walked inside, unfazed by the surroundings that were completely unfamiliar for Aether. He followed, narrowing his eyes at the bright light above them. His eyes adjusted to the room, and he saw a long, wide room, fit to be called Dottore's laboratory. There were ruin machines hanging from the ceiling, and massive tubes fit to hold creatures of all kinds, filled with a strange teal substance. It reminded Aether of what Dottore was studying back in the throne room. A surgical bed sat in the middle of the room, and benches with random liquids and objects sitting ready for an experiment. Shelves holding things of all kinds were scattered around. The room wasn't neat or organised, as Aether had first guessed. It seemed like the owner of it would be the only one able to make sense of it.
Dottore stood beside the surgical bed, wearing about half the amount of clothing Scaramouche and Aether wore. He had long, black gloves on, and a white, simple button-up shirt. It hung loosely around his figure. He had simple black pants on and protective leather shoes, along with a black harness around his chest. His sleeves were rolled up, which shocked Aether the most. Wasn't it cold for him?
"It's about time," he murmured, his voice echoing throughout the laboratory. "Welcome to my lab."
"Your lair," Scaramouche mumbled.
Dottore chuckled. "You've been here enough times to know that I like to get started swiftly. Now that my segments have been erased, I have less and less time to get on with it."
"What do you need him for?" Scaramouche questioned, his voice lowering only slightly.
Aether stood silently. He was focused on the surgical bed. The instruments laid out on the table beside it.
"Oh, I'll keep it short for today," Dottore purred. "I won't physically examine you today. I just want to test one of my latest pieces."
Pieces. As if his creations were art.
"Take a seat, Traveler," Dottore directed. "Do you have a preferred name?"
Aether narrowed his eyes. "Traveler is fine."
"That would be like you calling me the Doctor all the time. It sounds a bit strange, doesn't it?" he chuckled. "I suppose, you could consider this a 'check-up'."
Out of the corner of his eye, Aether could see Scaramouche's hand turn into a fist.
"I'm sure there's something better to call you," Dottore suggested. "It's a shame you won't reveal your true name... how about—"
"He's not your pet," Scaramouche snapped. "He's a temporary guest, and if he wants to share his name, he will."
Aether turned to him, a look of surprise on his face. Scaramouche stared directly into Dottore's eyes. Well, his mask.
"Usually you leave your temper behind when you enter my lab, Scaramouche," Dottore grinned, leaving the Balladeer's name in his mouth a moment longer than needed. "Take a seat, Traveler."
Aether glanced at Scaramouche before walking forward. Aether noticed a seat beside the surgical bed, and sat down on it. Dottore looked through the drawer holding the instruments and took out a strange looking helmet, with a bunch of wires attached to it.
"I want to see what you remember from that day," Dottore explained, walking behind Aether.
"I expected your 'piece' to look safer..." Aether admitted quietly.
Dottore laughed as he handed the helmet to Aether. "It's safe. But you have to be unconscious for it to work."
"What?" Aether questioned.
There was a piercing sound that left a ringing in Aether's mind. It drowned out all other senses, until there was nothing but silence.