Those Who Dream of Freedom (Scaramouche x fem!reader)

Chapter 17 ☆ Make a wish

☆ y/n

Scaramouche reaches his right hand around his body to grasp the hilt of his sword. He picks it up off the ground and holds it forward so it's pointing at me, then places his left hand on the hilt just below the other.

I do the same.

We both bend our knees, crouch down while keeping our chests straight, then stand up again and sit in the correct position — legs parallel, both feet pointing straight ahead, right foot in front of the left.

Scaramouche is full of adrenaline, lunging straight at me, roaring at the top of his lungs, raising his sword over his head at the last moment and slamming it down on me. I bring my own sword up as well, rolling it sideways so that the hilt is up and the blade is angled down and to the right, giving me protection against his strike. His blow bounces as our swords touch, and I strike toward his unprotected shoulder. Scaramouche is moving, but too fast, and I can't get my timing right, so my strike misses its target.

Scaramouche delivers another attack, this time a simpler one. He comes at me fast, sword pointed at my ribcage. However, I quickly parry his blow, his sword failing to get close enough to defeat me.

"You have your head in the clouds today," I notice.

But he gives me no answer, preferring to launch another attack on me. This time he no longer aims for my upper body, but instead goes for my legs. I swing my sword as well, parrying his blow once more and causing him to drop his weapon from his hands, which ends up a few feet away.

"You can do better than that."

"Shut up," he says as he goes for the sword.

It's weird. What's on his mind?

It has never happened before that I was not beaten even once. After taking his sword from the ground he launches into another attack, this time even fiercer than before, aiming for my feet again. I easily leap over the blade of his sword, and the moment he's taken by surprise, I aim mine at his chest, stopping inches from him.

He snorts, and I plunge my sword into the ground.

"If you have a problem..."

I don't get to finish what I have to say, Scaramouche throws himself at me again, like a madman. I narrowly dodge his next attack, during which I bend down to pick my sword away from my feet. His attacks all land on my sword, but the attacks I launch at him meet exactly the same end. There is nothing but the sound of wood hitting wood, and our heavy breaths. I fail to disarm him this time, the duel seemingly going on forever, as all of his fighting techniques fail in the face of my skill. I parry every blow he aims at me, each time with ease.

I've never seen him fight like that before, without seeming to know what he's doing. I can see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, a sign that he's concentrating. He's far too angry, and it's reflected in the way he wields his sword, as if to prove something to himself. Something's not right today, Scaramouche is never sloppy in battle, no matter how pointless it might seem to him to train when it's clear he's normally doing much better than this.

I end the fight with something that would immediately disqualify me if we took the exam now: I catch his hand like a wrench, and he drops his sword. He tries to bend down to pick it up, but before he can I kick him in the back of the knee, which sends us both to the ground.

"Are you crazy?!" he asks me immediately afterwards, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What's gotten into you?" I ask calmly.

But he doesn't answer me even now. Instead he shifts his gaze to the side, looking at the nearby lake. He sits up and remains in that position for a while, thinking about who might know what. I look at him instead, wondering what could have happened. If he fights like this at the Try-outs we'll fail in no time.