To Be A Harbinger

To Be A Harbinger, pt. 9

"I'm sorry, you told them we were what?"

"Relax, Scaramouche. I told them you two were engaged. It's a simple tactic to earn their trust: send in someone with something to lose." Pedrelino sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Besides, you two are involved correct? It shouldn't be so much of a stretch."

"Well.... well yes, but-" Scaramouche couldn't find the words to get out of this. He finally sighed. "What if they use it against us?"

"You're Fatui Harbingers. If a few civilians clanking around can manage to maim one of you, I dare say I'd be relieved. Her Majesty needs strong warriors, not kittens." Pedrelino met both their eyes.

Lucille kept her mouth closed. Scaramouche wasn't so wise. He scoffed. His voice was low, not specifically directed at anyone. "Right, just the one."

Pedrelino didn't flinch. He put his elbows on his desk and propped his chin in his hands. "Scaramouche, you forget yourself. Not only am I the Tsaritsa's favorite, but I also have access to sensitive information regarding both you and Lucille."

Ice shot through her veins at the mention of her real name. Scaramouche had nothing to lose-at least nothing she knew of-and he had already threatened her with her name before. He wouldn't care what happened to her sisters.

Pedrelino wasn't done. "Besides, I've heard of your previous relations with Tartaglia. Don't act so high and mighty."

Scaramouche froze in place, and his superior smiled. "Your boat leaves at noon. You're dismissed."

Scaramouche turned around and walked out without looking at anyone else.

•••

"You're inexperienced." Scaramouche stated, leaning against the railing with Lucille.

"Gee, thanks." She rolled her eyes.

"Use it to your advantage." He watched the ice rolling by with the waves. "They know you're new, and they'll underestimate you for it."

Lucille simply nodded, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Scaramouche glanced at her before he kept going. "You're going to be my fiancée, you know. We need to be in love."

"You first." She scoffed.

"So stubborn. Why do you resist me so much?" He turned away from the waves to look at her.

"I could have forgiven it. All of it. Humiliating me in front of the others, trying to revoke my position," she hesitated, glancing around, "What you did that night."

Scaramouche felt his chest tighten. For some reason, he called up the night with Tartaglia. The way he felt for so long after, the stains he couldn't wash out of his head.

She went on. "But I will never, ever forgive you for threatening my sisters."

Scaramouche rolled his eyes. "I was only trying to scare you."

"No you weren't." She met his eyes, and he was almost knocked off balance.

"So what? I didn't do anything."

"But you would. You will. You hurt people when you don't get your way, but this time, the only person getting hurt will be you." She leaned forward. Her face was darkened by the shade of his hat. He felt his breath catch in his throat.

Scaramouche set his jaw and grabbed her around the waist. He spun her around so that her back was pressed to the railing. "So the game continues."

He laughed loudly. Even as he turned to walk away, he knew he should stop and say something else. Apologize, maybe. He laughed at himself. The last time he said sorry to anyone, they were dead.

Lucille watched him walk away, and for the first time she regretted ever fighting Tartaglia. She should've settled for second. For him. She shook her head, turning back to the waves. She would never go back. Now she's seen who he really is, and she wouldn't ever put herself in the dark again.

•••

Mondstadt was like a breath of fresh air. Lucille enjoyed the new warmth that came with it. It was lively, and flowers covered the city. It seemed they were celebrating something.

The Goth Hotel was the only exception. It was stripped of flowers and streamers. The moment Lucille stepped inside, she felt her spirits drop.

"Here."

She fumbled to catch the ring Scaramouche flicked at her.

"What is this?" She frowned, holding it up to see it more clearly.

"Electro crystal." He said simply.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Why?" Lucille rolled her eyes at him.

"We're engaged. You need a ring." He carefully set his hat on a chair, making sure to fan out the fabric behind it.

"No thanks." She threw it back to him and flopped onto the bed. Of course they had to share a room. Why wouldn't they? They booked the entire hotel, but they had to share a room. Who was going to out them? Kyle? The cleaning crew had even been dismissed.

"Lucille-"

"Ayato." He flinched away from his name as if it could hurt him. Lucille sat up to glare at him. "Not so nice, is it, mon amor?"

Scaramouche forgot what he was going to say. She had surprised him, turning his own tactics against him. First his real name, then her native tongue. He cleared his throat. "Harlequin."

The name tasted sour, but he turned it into venom. "I think you forget, this wasn't my idea. If you wish to complain, file it with Pedrelino. We have a job to do, and your pouting isn't going to get in the way of that. Or did you forget your vow?"

Lucille bit her tongue. She knew he was playing her, she just didn't know how or what for this time. Both options were a loss. Finally, she set her jaw and reached for the ring held on his palm.

He pulled it back before she touched it. "I have a better idea."

"What?" She frowned.

"Can you cry on demand?" He smiled. Her heart skipped a beat. It was one of his real smiles, the kind she hadn't seen in months.

So she nodded. "Yeah, I can... I can do that."

"Wonderful. We're going to make these fools apologize to us." He laughed before kissing her.

Both of them froze, inches apart. "Did you just..."

Scaramouche snapped out of it and stood up straight again. "So what? I've kissed you in other places."

Lucille blushed, and she was relieved no one could see it. She also hated that he could. "I've never kissed you."

He ran a hand through his hair, turning to fumble with his hat. "Now you have."

Lucille grabbed his hand and pulled him to her. He stumbled and fell onto her, pinning her to the bed. She held onto the back of his neck to hold him down and run her fingers through his hair.

"So you really mean nothing by it?" She held onto his waist with her free hand.

"Of course not." He scoffed, but he didn't move.

"Neither do I." She pulled him down and caught his lips in another kiss. His stomach churned as he tried to ignore how it made him feel. How he wished he never had to leave. In another life, maybe he would have held her sooner. Maybe it wouldn't take her selling her life to his archon to make him realize he loved her.

She shoved her tongue into his mouth when he realized he'd lost. She won the game. She beat him at his own damned bet. And in that moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the kiss, and the fact it would never happen again when she found out she won. So he fought back with his own, trying to savor as much of this moment as he could.