Fragments of Silence: Scaramouche x Aether

Prologue: Resonance of Sorrow

The air crackled with tension as Aether and Scaramouche stood across from each other in the domain's desolate landscape. The ground beneath them shook, the battle's power leaving cracks in the earth. Scaramouche's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, his slender form taut with the energy coursing through him. Aether stood firm, his expression set in determined resolve, his sword ready.

"Do you really think you can stop me?" Scaramouche sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You, who meddles in things you barely understand."

Aether narrowed his fiery-gold eyes. He had heard enough of Scaramouche's taunts, the endless bravado masking something more profound. "I don't care about your schemes," Aether replied, his voice low and steady. "I'm here to protect the people you threaten, no matter the cost." His unwavering resolve echoed in the desolate landscape.

Scaramouche smirked, a bitter curve to his lips. "Protect them? You can barely protect yourself."

Without warning, Scaramouche launched forward, his movements a blur as he struck. Aether parried, the clash of their weapons ringing through the air. They moved in a deadly dance, each strike and counterstrike a testament to their skill. The fury of their combat was palpable, a storm of energy and determination that filled the desolate landscape.

As they fought, Scaramouche's thoughts raced. He had expected Aether to be stronger, to be more ruthless. Yet, the Traveler hesitated. Why?

Their battle reached its peak as Scaramouche, in a last-ditch effort, broke free from his mechanical suit. The force of the fall propelled him toward the Gnosis, his hand outstretched to claim it. Aether reacted instinctively, reaching out to stop him.

Their hands brushed, a fleeting touch that bridged the space between them. In that moment, a torrent of memories surged through Aether's mind. It was as if a dam had burst, flooding him with images and emotions not his own. Scaramouche's memories—the pain, the betrayal, the centuries of loneliness and anger—washed over him in a relentless wave.

Aether's eyes widened in shock as he was pulled into the storm of Scaramouche's past. He saw it all—Raiden Ei's cold indifference, the hollow existence of a puppet cast aside, the bitter path of revenge that had shaped Scaramouche into the being he was now. The anguish, heartbreak, and relentless search for purpose were too much.

"No—!" Aether's voice was choked with pain, not his own, his body trembling as the memories tore through him. He staggered back, clutching his head as the world around him blurred. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think—only feel.

The fight was forgotten. Scaramouche watched with widening eyes as Aether fell to his knees; his golden gaze turned crimson and glassy with unshed tears. The Traveler's face was streaked with tears that continued to fall; his expression twisted in anguish that mirrored the deepest parts of Scaramouche's soul.

"Why...?" Aether's voice was a ragged whisper, broken by the weight of what he had seen. He looked up at Scaramouche, his red eyes filled with a sorrow that cut deeper than any blade. "Why... did you have to go through all of that?"

Scaramouche stood frozen, his usual smug demeanor shattered in the face of Aether's raw grief. He felt exposed, stripped bare in a way he had never been before. Aether had seen everything. His pain, his suffering—all laid bare.

Aether's tears fell like rain, unceasing and silent. He couldn't stop them or fight the overwhelming wave of emotion that had crashed over him. He could feel Scaramouche's despair, the suffocating loneliness that had defined his existence.

"No... you don't get to see that," Scaramouche hissed, his voice trembling with anger and fear. He stepped back, his eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. "You don't get to feel sorry for me!"

Aether shook his head, still unable to rise from his knees. "I— I'm not... I just..." Words failed him. What could he say? How could he possibly convey the turmoil churning within him? He had come to fight an enemy, but now... now he saw a person, broken and hurting. And he knew, deep in his core, that this truth was not something he could share with anyone. It was a secret that wasn't his to tell.

Scaramouche turned on his heel, ready to flee, to escape the unbearable vulnerability thrust upon him. He couldn't stand to face Aether's pity, his understanding. It was too much, too raw. He needed to get away.

"Aether!" Paimon cried, rushing to the Traveler's side. Her small hands hovered over him, panic in her eyes. "What's happening? What did he do to you?"

Nahida approached cautiously, her gaze shifting between the two with concern. But even she could not understand the full depth of what had just occurred. She knew Aether was in pain, but the source of that pain remained a mystery. "Aether, speak to us. What happened?"

Aether tried to steady his breathing and make sense of the storm within him. But all he could see was Scaramouche's pain, a pain that had been hidden beneath layers of anger and malice. And now that he had seen it, he couldn't just turn away.

Scaramouche cast one last glance at Aether, his expression unreadable, before turning and fleeing into the shadows. He needed to disappear, to hide from the unbearable truth that someone had glimpsed the darkness within him.

Aether, still on his knees, clenched his fists. He couldn't tell them. He couldn't share the burden of what he had witnessed. It was Scaramouche's story, not his. And in that silence, he made an unspoken promise to keep it hidden, to carry the weight of that knowledge alone.