❝ WOULD YOU HAVE FOLLOWED ME TO THE LEFT OF ELYSIAN? ❞
As heiress to Teyvat's greatest trading company, you sat at the summit of nobility and wealth. Thus at the age of twenty, you were arranged to marry someone befitting your wealth and status- wh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
YOUR FIANCÉ LAID down an ultimatum; asking you to choose between him and the colleague whom you had met just two weeks ago. Though to you; the choice was obvious, you would, without a doubt, pick Scaramouche over a man who you happened to meet by accident during your ceremony a fortnight ago. Yet, it came to you as an absolute shock that your oh-so-confident fiancé would ask you such a question. The pride began to waver within the proud and defiant Harbinger.
Childe was certainly handsome, attractive but you would never be so shallow in picking someone for their looks over someone you've grown to (somewhat) understand in the last month or so. Even if the arrangement of this marriage was somewhat contrived, you felt some semblance of intimacy towards Scaramouche, even if you were sure he did not. Nonetheless, his question bothered you— why would he make such a sudden turnabout in his actions and words to question whether you would pick him or not?
And in that moment, suddenly everything seemingly made sense. Why Scaramouche had been fidgeting the entire day and asked for you to avoid the Eleventh if you saw him. Why the Tsaritsa had questioned you, asking if you were happy with the marriage. Why your fiancé would question you of such a ridiculous proposition and why the Eleventh acted so familiar and nonchalant towards you—
You were originally supposed to marry Childe.
Your fiancé is a prideful man, there's no doubt about that. Every Harbinger held their heads up high, keeping their chin leveled so that the prestigious crown of their title could remain atop their head. Scaramouche, in particular, could not comprehend the follies of marriage, the picturesque perspective of matrimony but if there was something he understood and comprehended, it was his own ambition and pride. He refused to bow down to anyone other than the Tsaritsa and would never, in a million years, lose to the Eleventh. Not to mention, there was something else at stake other than his own vapid arrogance.
"Scaramouche..." Your voice faltered at the epiphany, staring at your conflicted fiancé. You could only imagine how badly wounded his pride must be for him to question you so blatantly of your pick between the two.
