Withered Crepe Myrtles. || Royalty AU Scaramouche x f!reader.

War. (Chapter 5, Part 1)

You closed your eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of freshly bloomed lavenders. Too bad that they were going to be trampled soon. It was lonely in the mansion and all the servants had disappeared to go work somewhere else. You had already learnt everything from patching up skirts, cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner plus many other things. You didn't really need any servants, but you'd rather them for company. It was getting lonely here without the constant chitter chatter of the maids and the gossip that could go on for days.

You pulled the curtains shut and headed downstairs, fixing yourself brunch — if you had to be honest, the servant's cooking was much better than yours. You looked out your windows again, at the war stricken battle grounds in the distance. The red sky was really getting to you. You wondered how Scaramouche was doing in the war. Then that struck something in your mind, I need to go help Scaramouche.

You sped to your wardrobe, thrusting it open and pulling out a board from the side. Inside of the small compartment was a beautifully polished sword. It was passed down through many generations of the L/N family and you — lucky you, had inherited it since both your parents weren't into fighting and swords.

The sheath it was in was an ebony white and the handle was decorated with patterns of roses. You held it close to your hips and wore a dress that was more flexible than others since you knew full well that you were going to get a lot of exercise with the war going on.

Stepping out of your mansion you bid it goodbye and hauled yourself onto a horse, riding it off to the place where the smoke was most visible and where the sound of war raged on.

You arrived and immediately saw the sight of blood, and a lot of it too. Everyone was either injured or dead and barely dragging on. You watched the soldiers, who wore the uniform of the Imperial army, look at you and their eyes begged for you to save them. You got off your horse and watched as the opposing army ran at you, full speed.

You shredded most of them easily, a couple of them taking a couple minutes more. You spotted just out of the corner of your eye a figure, stepping out of the thick fog. Scaramouche? You thought to yourself, recognising the familiar purple hair from somewhere. "Scaramouche? Is that you?"

You ran up to him — hoping that he was safe. "Scaramouche!"

He stared at you. "Y/N? What are you doing here? I told you to stay back — you'll get hurt. Go back."

"How could I possibly go back when there's a war raging in our kingdom? Many will risk their lives for freedom and I'm here just... just doing nothing. Who do you think I am? Letting soldiers die for us. Do you think I could carry such a burden? Scaramouche, let me do what I like, and I promise that it will turn out better than you'd think," you snapped, "better than whatever your plan is."

Scaramouche's heart sank. He already felt so bad — making you stay back when he knew that you wouldn't. He shut his eyes and inhaled sharply. "Alright then, don't come to me when everything goes wrong."

You watched him disappear back into the fog, not looking back at you even once. You had to admit that you felt guilty, so guilty arguing against him. He was a prince, and what were you? Just the daughter of a Duke and a Duchess who started a war. You loved him too... and you just argued with him.

You hated this. Whatever this war was. You got back onto your horse and headed for the nearest refuge area for soldiers, maybe you could help them with your limited nursing ability.

You soon arrived at a camp set up not too far away from the place where you last saw Scaramouche. You jumped off the back of the horse, scanning the place for the indigo haired man. To apologise — of course. To your surprise, instead of Scaramouche there was Childe. He was propped against a wooden pole and seemed like he was slowly nodding off.