Note:Officially on a one week Easter break from work! (Not to say that I don’t have anything to do for work, we’re still busy haha, but at least we don’t have to go in) Also, I actually already finished writing Ch.8 and 9 a week ago haha…. Just editing it.

Summary: When Prince Scaramouche picks you out of a random group of commoners to marry, your life is turned upside down. He’s mean, snarky, condescending and he doesn’t act like a proper husband or prince at all. However, when Prince Tartaglia from the neighbouring kingdom takes an interest in you, Prince Scaramouche finds himself even more annoyed than usual. This is the story of him and you navigating this roller coaster of a relationship.

Warnings: A LOT OF SELF REFLECTION, INTERNAL STRUGGLE AND CONFUSED FEELINGS FROM SCARAMOUCHE, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF GETTING SICK: THROWING UP, SCARAMOUCHE-CENTRED CHAPTER, you only show up for like, 30 seconds, lol, because of that, it might be a slow chapter overall, slow burn, does not exactly follow the genshin lore, AU, swearing

Word Count: 2.6k words

Summary and a recap on the Royal AU plots are here.

Read other parts:(Ruthless Prince Masterlist)

“It didn’t pierce her heart,” was the first thing the doctor says. The weight on Scaramouche’s shoulders lifted right then and there, only for it to multiply and be dumped back at the doctor’s next words.

“But the arrow wasn’t designed to kill anyway, the finishing blow is the poison-laced tip,” 

What’s that shiver up his back? Goosebumps? 

He was getting frustrated. He didn’t like this feeling. Why were there so many thoughts flitting in and out of his head? Why are there so many questions that he wants answered? Why is he trying so hard to stay still when all he wants is to pace back and forth? He’s never had to try and contain himself like this before. 

“I’m afraid there’s no guarantee. She’ll be sick for days and has to be monitored closely. The only thing I can do at this moment is to prescribe a week’s worth of antidotes,” 

Scaramouche spaced out then, just as the doctor finished talking. Kuni’s eyes glance up at the prince who is lost in thought, rather flabbergasted that he looked so out of it. “Prince?” Kuni gently chides. 

Scaramouche’s head jerks up the tiniest bit, processing the entirety of the conversation. His eyes linger on your unconscious form. You looked peaceful now, but he wasn’t sure what would happen later on.

“…Move her to another room…set Abigail, yourself and the head maids on rotation to watch her…” 

Scaramouche was wary of the incident. They kept the arrow to see if they could determine how it was crafted, where it was from, and he could not bring himself to trust the whole castle under circumstances like this. So, he asked Kuni only to place the longest serving knights to guard your door. Other than that, the whole castle was placed on high alert and the patrols outside had intensified.

Kuni bowed, and started making arrangements for it, walking out of your shared room along with the doctor, leaving Scaramouche in the silence with you. 

Strange. He thought. 

It was already quiet enough the past week, trying to avoid you and vice versa. Yet now…he didn’t think it was possible for it to even be more silent than it already was. 

It was deafening, the absence of sound. Like a ringing in his ears that wouldn’t go away.

He finally lets out that frustrated sigh he’s been keeping in, closing his eyes to calm his still disarrayed nerves. But every time he closed them he gets flashbacks of that arrow pierced through your chest. 

He grimaces, and opts to open his eyes instead. 

What do I do with myself? 

He has his arms crossed only to prevent himself from the impulse of throwing something against the wall. A vase. A chair. A pillow. Anything. And yet, his nails are digging into his flesh from how tight his grip on himself is. 

Where is this anger coming from?

He always knows where his anger is coming from. Be it something that pisses him off, a clumsy maid, things not going his way, too much paperwork, he always knows where it’s from but this time, he’s confused. 

Because it should’ve been for me but she–

Shouldn’t he be happy then? That someone took the hit for him. He should’ve been, because he was definitely saved from the days of agony and pain, but knowing that it was you who took the fall for him…that’s it. That’s where that feeling of wanting to throw up is coming from.

“…She despises me,”

“…I don’t think that’s completely correct, prince. Perhaps if you showed…a little more…support,”

Support?

Unfortunately, Scaramouche didn’t exactly know what that entailed. Was it not support enough that he gave you things that you liked? Well, now that you were bedridden…painting and tea probably wasn’t an option. So what? What would someone count as support? 

“What’s got you so spaced out today?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” 

“Oh, come on, you’ve hardly drank anything up until I shoved this glass to your face. I daresay I’m the better noble tonight,” 

Your expression. The way you tilt your chin up slightly higher to show how “superior” you were to him. The way a smug smile paints your face. He at once gets the sense that you’re trying to cheer him up, to put him at ease, despite possibly wanting to leave the party just as badly as he did.

The interaction echoes in the chambers of his mind. The way such a simple gesture, a simple sentence and a simple smile can give someone a sense of comfort. It was that elementary, that easy for you to offer him support. 

But for him, who didn’t ever have to give it to someone else, it was uncharted territory. 

Would it be foolish to try it? He felt…somewhat embarrassed, thinking of it. 

He shakes his head vigorously with a sigh. His mind had again wandered off to things that were unimportant. What’s important right now was to at least make sure you were going to survive. He’ll worry about this support thing later.

His first chance to practice “support” was given to him three days later. The first time you woke up after the whole ordeal. He hadn’t been in your room. It was Abigail, your etiquette instructor, that witnessed your eyes flying open and your arms pushing you up from the mattress.

She was startled, it had been so sudden, with no indications at all, but she was even more startled when you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed and started retching. Gagging, heaving, choking on air noises were all that Scaramouche heard when he entered the room, after Abigail alerted a maid to call for him and a doctor. 

Did he dare to look at the puddle of mess you made? He did, he had to see what exactly you’d thrown up, knowing that you hadn’t even eaten in days. 

It was mostly blood. The doctor warned that might happen when the antidote starts working the poison out of you. 

You took slow, deep breaths when you thought the sick feeling had passed, but you still stayed on the edge of the bed. You whimpered at all the sensations attacking you at the same time. Fatigue, hunger, exhaustion, pain and just this overall ill feeling in your stomach. 

Scaramouche heard it and turned to you after sending Abigail off to fetch maids for the clean-up. “Y/N,” he barely spoke your name, rolling it on his tongue seemed a little unnatural. “How…How do you feel?” He stumbled over his words. He definitely had not asked anyone that before, let alone be concerned enough to think about asking it. He was still standing tense at the foot of your bed, just watching you hoist yourself up with your arms and taking deep breaths.

Your head lolled towards him, blinking, not really caring what kinds of words left your mouth or his. You were just too out of it. “…Like shit,”

Scaramouche’s eyebrow quirked up, but somehow, that kind of answer was better than anything else you could have said, earning a small, amused grin from the prince. “Get back in bed,” he curtly commanded, strolling to the clean side of the floor as you rolled over to your back. 

“…Can I have some water, please?” you asked after a moment, feeling your throat on fire and just…the foul, irony taste in your mouth. 

Scaramouche obliged. There was no one else there to help you after all. With water already on the bedside table, he poured you a glass and passed it off after you sat up, chugging it down like it was a lifeline. You felt so thirsty. 

You winced though, when all that bad stuff had been washed down your throat, it nearly made you feel like gagging again, but you tried not to think about it as you stretch the glass back over to him. Scaramouche receives it, replacing the glass with a towel. 

You stared at the towel in your hand for a moment, wondering what the hell it was for. “…Wipe your mouth,” was his explanation and you made a sound of sudden understanding, doing as he said, realizing that you probably look like a monster right now. 

“Thanks…” and you throw the towel over to the bedside table, once again plopping down on the bed, only to feel a sharp pain on your chest as you do so, causing your hand to jerk upwards and push on your chest, where you thought the pain was coming from.

Ah, that’s right. You thought. That’s where the arrow entered. Bits and pieces of the incident comes back to you now, but it doesn’t explain why you feel so tired and exhausted. An arrow wouldn’t do so much damage, would it? To top it off, you didn’t even know how long you were out. 

“Scaramouche, are you fine?” you mumble, half delirious in your broken state. Scaramouche barely hears it and he raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

He waits, but he doesn’t get a reply. He realizes you’ve quickly fallen back asleep after that throwing up episode, and who could blame your battered body? He sighed a little, and left the room when the maids and Abigail returned. There was no point in staying there if you weren’t awake. Though he must admit, it was bugging him that you hadn’t eaten anything in 3 days. 

Scaramouche sought Kuni out the same night about that problem, finding him in his own, personal office. “Kuni,” Scaramouche greeted. 

Kuni looked up from the book he had on hand, “Prince,” greeting back naturally. “Can I help you?” 

“Y/N hasn’t eaten in 3 days,” 

Kuni was aware of that, and so was everyone else. Everyone was aware that there was a chance you wouldn’t survive. But for the prince to point it out, it was rather a strange thing to Kuni. It simply meant that he was watching out for someone else other than himself, and that wasn’t something that happened often.

“Yes, we’re hoping she’ll wake up long enough at some point, just enough to get some food into her system,” 

And then…Silence. Kuni peered over his reading glasses over to the dazed prince. It was quite obvious that the prince had been unusually quiet the past few weeks. It told Kuni that something had happened. Where before, the two of you would at least sit together and eat your meals, the prince suddenly took his meals separately from yours.

Kuni noticed it early on, but he wasn’t the least bit concerned. He had guessed that it had been some sort of disagreement, some sort of fight between the two of you. Most people would say that it was a bad thing. But, to Kuni, who had been the prince’s guardian for a long time, seeing him evidently avoid you, was a good thing.

It told Kuni that Scaramouche cared. 

Going through the effort of trying to avoid you meant that the prince was uncomfortable with something. And that was saying a lot when the prince’s usual emotions only consisted of anger and indifference. 

Kuni has to squint, but he sees the distress thinly shadowed over Scaramouche’s expression. It’s barely there, but he sees it. “…Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Scaramouche bristles, awkwardly rubbing his shoulder as he dives into deep thought. There’s so many things he wants to know. Who shot the arrow? Who did it? Why were they trying to kill him? Why am I waiting for her to wake up? 

“I don’t have control over the situation. It’s annoying,” Scaramouche says, translating what he felt into words that he was familiar with.

“…It’s called being worried, prince. Entirely natural,” Kuni took his reading glasses off and folded them atop his table, leveling his gaze towards the prince that he had served nearly his whole life. He watched as the prince’s body language shifts, uncomfortably looking away and off to somewhere unimportant, like the wall. 

Worry? Scaramouche ponders on it. Well, whatever it was, it eats at him, and it just doesn’t go away. The moment he wakes up he wonders if you’ve survived the night. At night, he finds it harder to fall asleep with the questions and what ifs in his mind. When he eats a meal at the table and you’re not there, he finds himself wondering if you’re hungry, and if your body would survive the days without any sustenance. 

All Scaramouche sees it as, isvulnerability, and Kuni sees that too. Sees how the prince struggles to accept the mess of unpleasant emotions he feels. Vulnerability was not an easy thing, not even for the normal, run off the mill guy. 

“What do you know about the princess, prince?” Kuni changes the subject, successfully diverting Scaramouche’s attention towards him, face now painted with confusion.

“What do I know about her?” Scaramouche counters the question back.

“Yes. What does she like, what she reads, what her preferred dishes are,” Kuni lists off and sees the familiar scowl on Scaramouche’s face.

“It’s not necessary for me to know–”

“Is that how you truly feel?” Kuni cuts him off and Scaramouche is rendered silent. “Communicating is not just merely an exchange of words, prince. It’s an exchange of experiences and opinions, both good and bad.” 

Scaramouche gets a flash of you animatedly talking to Kokomi and Tartaglia. The reason why you never showed that side of yourself to him was…because he never shared anything with you. That’s what Kuni was saying, and yet, it takes time for that to fully sink in to Scaramouche’s mind. 

He ponders on it for a moment, then scoffs. “It’s too late to think about that now,” and he truly felt it as well. He’d decided to be a pain in your ass from the beginning. He had no intentions–and still didn’t have any–to be nice to you. He didn’t have that in him. 

But to tolerate you? That. he found that it was something he could do and possibly even enjoy. He didn’t mind it as much as he thought it would, sitting in the art room and spending time with you, even though it was him just sitting and you quietly painting…being in the presence of each other…it was…different, but he couldn’t put a finger to what that feeling was. Comfort? Peace? 

“Why do you say so?” Kuni continues to prod the prince. This was the right time to do it, he thinks. If not now, then there wouldn’t be another time where the prince would let his guard down like this. “For as long as she lives, and for as long as you live, there’s a lifetime between the two of you, my lord. Well, assuming that she agrees to stay married,” Kuni coughed, because divorce wasn’t usually talked about in royal situations. What a disaster that would be. 

A lifetime, huh? 

Scaramouche knew that when he married you. He knew that the rest of his and your life would be bound together, but he didn’t care at that moment. What he cared about was ticking off the checkboxes that his father gave him. 

“I only offer suggestions, my lord, but perhaps, when she’s well and awake again, you might consider learning a bit more about her…She may one day be your greatest ally. Your father is a great king, but there were also many a times he would turn to the queen for guidance and support,”

Greatest ally? Support? Why would he need such a thing and why was everyone talking about it? He was fine by himself, and progressing just fine. Scaramouche was about to say something crass back, but there’s a knock on the door of the study. A maid peeks her head in and bows down a perfect 90 degree before straightening up again.

“The princess is awake. She requests the presence of prince Scaramouche,”

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Summary: When Prince Scaramouche picks you out of a random group of commoners to marry, your life is turned upside down. He’s mean, snarky, condescending and he doesn’t act like a proper husband or prince at all. However, when Prince Tartaglia from the neighbouring kingdom takes an interest in you, Prince Scaramouche finds himself even more annoyed than usual. This is the story of him and you navigating this roller coaster of a relationship.

Warnings: NOT PROOFREAD forgive me, longer than usual, a bit of fluff I guess?, medieval Karen alert

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary and a recap on the Royal AU plots are here.

Read other parts:(Ruthless Prince Masterlist)

You were distinctly aware that Scaramouche had sat next to you on the carriage enroute to the annual celebration. Before then, he’d always sat across you instead. Why were you paying attention to such details anyway? You’d been telling yourself not to overthink things, but it seems as if your mind just loved to wander,  especially after that small moment yesterday night. 

Try as you might to pretend that last night was nothing, probably just him being moody again, something inside you stirred in a way that had you curious, bordering on wondering if Scaramouche was actually starting to warm up to you…or maybe, possibly, even something more. 

You shook your head vigorously at the thought.

“What’re you doing?” Of course he had to notice and of course he had to give you a weirded out look. 

Your eyes darted towards and away from him all at once. “Uh…Nothing,” and then it was silent in the carriage again, up until the two of you arrived at the venue. 

It was a special one, unlike any other that you’ve been to before it actually looked simpler, yet it was still quite large with intricate ceilings and chandeliers, exotic looking windows and long elegant tables of food and drinks. 

Your arrival had to be announced. It was Scaramouche’s day and his presence was of the utmost importance. For some reason that didn’t bother you too much, though a lot of the attention would be on you for the night. Unlike usual gatherings, much of the guests were younger people. Possibly around your and Scaramouche’s age rather than the older nobles and aristocrats. 

Perhaps it was for that reason that you felt like there were a lot more stares on you than usual. 

“The opening dance will start in a few,” Scaramouche warned you, your arm hooked around his, a standard stance when the two of you enter a venue. 

A somewhat familiar face stops in front of the two of you. You reach back into your mind to look for her name. Ah. Right. Amaya. The young noble who saw you as nothing but dirt under her feet. 

“How can a nobody like you become the princess? We’ve all come from royal and pure blood, and then you, tainted and filthy like where you came from–there’s no way the prince would ever love you!”

You’ve seen her a few more times after that, in the same ladies tea party, but she didn’t speak up as much, seeing as the other nobles started warming up to you, regardless of your background. Amaya, however, you could see in the way she stood in front of the two of you that she was out for trouble.

“Prince Scaramouche,” she curtsied towards him, and completely disregards your presence next to him. Scaramouche’s eyebrows raise up, also noticing the lack of greeting towards you. Amaya wouldn’t even glance at you.

“Happy birthday, I’ve brought an extremely valuable artifact as a birthday present. I’m sure it’ll be to your liking,” Amaya was rather graceful. They all were. She motions her hand towards her left for a server to come forward. A perfect looking square shaped gift wrapped in golden paper was atop the tray he was holding, red ribbon encircling it. 

“If I may be so bold as to suggest something…I don’t believe she’s fit to do the opening dance with you…I heard that she hasn’t had the proper noble upbringing. I’m sure it’s stressful for her too,” Amaya threw you a fake smile as your eyes widened a little. She was really doing this in front of you, JUST as the two of you walk in. The night had barely even started and it was starting out with this, insinuating that you were nothing but commoner trash, and she wasn’t even done talking yet. “If you’d like, I’m confident that I’ll be able to do the dance flawlessly,”

Even the server holding the gift looked uncomfortable with her words. There was no world in which it was appropriate to suggest to the prince that he should do the opening dance with someone else who WASN’T his wife. The beginning was already looking grim for you.

There was a moment of silence, and you were at a loss for what to say, not knowing how far you could go with your words. However, a short snort of laughter cut through the tension, your eyes darted sideways, realizing that it was Scaramouche. There was a wide grin plastered on his face and he was looking at Amaya as if SHE was the trash beneath his feet. His momentary snickering gradually turned into chuckles, and his chuckles bellowed into obnoxious laughter, his head tipped back like a villain.

Your eyes were wide while Amaya was making her declaration, but they were full blown saucers now, watching Scaramouche laugh like a maniac and everyone in close vicinity was looking at him, astounded as well. “S-Scaramouche?” You started, wondering if he had finally gone crazy.

His laughing abruptly stopped and he leveled his gaze towards Amaya. His glare was unlike anything you’ve seen before. Sure, he always had one on his face, but this one was vicious, like you could be poisoned with just one look. And then, with humor in his voice, he asked Amaya “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Amaya was frozen in a second, and you couldn’t help but tug at Scaramouche’s arm with your own, like a mother who was embarrassed. You whispered at him, “Scara, just leave it,” you tugged again, but he didn’t budge. “You’re a great example of why I didn’t marry a noble, conceited witch,” 

“Scaramouche!” You hissed, aware of the eyes that were already turned towards your small group. Amaya was looking paler by the minute but Scaramouche was looking more entertained by the second. 

“Listen carefully, either you apologize or you’re going to leave and count on it that your family will be wiped out of noble existence,” Scaramouche gave his final command and Amaya immediately blurted out, looking straight at Scaramouche “I-I’m sorry! I apologize,” almost as if she didn’t know what was happening. 

But Scaramouche sneered, tipped his head sideways towards you and exclaimed, “to her,”

Amaya was horrified, but she still turned towards you, finally meeting your eyes and curtsied. “I-I-I” she seemed to be having some trouble.

“Now!” Scaracmouche was ruthless in his demands, and Amaya finally breaks.

“I apologize, princess!” you could hear the tremble in her voice. Shamed and embarrassed, she turned around and fled to the restrooms, you could almost see her watery eyes in your mind’s eye. The server was left standing there with the gift and Scaramouche clicked his tongue. “Throw that out, I want nothing from that family,” and finally tugged at you to retreat over to one of the tables with drinks. 

Scaramouche unwound his arm from yours and took one of the champagne glasses flawlessly, taking a sip from it as if nothing had happened and you were left staring at him, jaw slack and open. “Scaramouche, you can’t just–” you blinked, and looked around to see if anyone was staring at the two of you, then your eyes darted between crowds to see if you could catch a glimpse of Amaya again. Strange enough, part of you felt bad, despite the fact that Amaya was the one who struck first.

“Quit looking so worried, I’m the crown prince,” Scaramouche watches as your eyebrows scrunch up in worry. He doesn’t understand what’s got you so riled up or anxious. “Don’t waste your time over that hag.” and he meant it. You knew because his hand flew over to your chin and forced your gaze away from the crowd and towards him. “Stop. Forget about it,” 

Easy for him to say. He must be so used at making people feel like crap. You opened your mouth to say something, but he spoke sooner than you did. “If she isn’t showing respect then she doesn’t deserve it either,” then he dropped his hand away from your chin, but your gaze stayed on Scaramouche. Your shoulders relaxed. He had a point, but it was really strange coming from Scaramouche’s mouth. 

It’s as if when it came to other people he knew what the rules were, but for himself…it’s like etiquette didn’t matter. He could be rude and snappy all day long and yet he wouldn’t expect anyone to talk back to him.

You took in a long breath while closing your eyes and sighed it out just as slow. You kept your eyes closed for a moment longer before opening them with a half defeated and half accepting grin. “Alright, fine…I’ll just…wipe everything over, pretend it didn’t happen and get on with this party,” then you set your hand out to him. “Opening dance?” Suddenly you had the determination to show others that you DID know how to do the opening dance properly. Amaya be damned.

Despite being in close proximity of each other during the actual opening dance, it didn’t have the same intimacy as it did the night before. Perhaps because there were people looking at the two of you, scrutinizing the dance and probably whispering about how the two of you had no chemistry at all, or something. Nevertheless it ended without a hitch, and unlike the night before, you and Scaramouche came apart as soon as the dance finished, but your hands stayed together as you walked off the dance floor and onto another table with food.

He glanced sideways at you. “You were a little stiff,” he commented and you swerved your head towards him with a glare. 

“I was nervous, what do you expect?” It didn’t really feel great to be told that when you were so determined to show others that you had “perfected” the dance. 

“…It wasn’t a poor performance…but being stiff just makes you…heavier,” Scaramouche continued to talk as if he didn’t know he was digging his own grave.

“Oh now you’re calling me heavy! That doesn’t even make sense–I’m the same weight all throughout the dance!” you hissed at him and he turns to look at you with a blank look on his face as the two of you walk, though it looks as if he’s about to say something mischievous.

“…Then maybe you’re just naturally heav–”

“Prince Scaramouche! Princess Y/N!” You fumed at him, though he didn’t finish his sentence, he has a grin on his face. The two of you turn to see Kokomi curtsying towards the two of you. Your mood instantly brightens up. 

“Kokomi!” You can’t help but break away from Scaramouche’s hold on your hand and greeted Kokomi with a hug. She seemed like such a good break from a terrible start of the evening. Kokomi receives it and greets Scaramouche as well. 

“Happy birthday, prince,” she nodded and Scaramouche only let out a hum. “It seems like the two of you are getting along better these days,” Kokomi comments as you slide away from her hug and back to Scaramouche’s side.

“Nonsense.” Scaramouche pipes up right at the same time as you say “Hardly.” with a roll of your eyes. But Kokomi giggles, hiding her laugh behind her hand and moves on to a different topic. She fetches a black box from her sleeve, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand and hands it over to Scaramouche. “It’s done, milord. There should be no issues whatsoever with it,” She sounded so proud, but you had no idea what was in the box, and Scaramouche looked as if he didn’t have an idea too.

So, the first thing he did was receive it, and opened the top. There were two rings resting inside the velvet of the box. One was clearly for a female. A simple, silver band ring with a pearl embedded into the middle. The other was a larger and thicker ring. It was silver as well, but it had a mysterious sheen to it, like it wasn’t completely made of silver. 

Then it hit Scaramouche, a quiet “Oh,” escaping his lips. He closed it back and pocketed the box of rings. Kokomi looked far too pleased with herself. You only blinked, confused. “Is that… a gift?” you asked the two of them. 

Scaramouche doesn’t answer but Kokomi gives you an explanation. “For generations, our clan has been tasked to make pearl rings for the future king and queen. These rings are exchanged during the first birthday in which the prince has been wedded. They’re quite special, you see. The Sango pearls we use are one of a kind, magical properties are infused into the material and…well, you’ll experience it yourself later,” 

“Oh,” you let out just like Scaramouche did earlier. “I didn’t know about that,” your gaze moves to Scaramouche, and he feels it on him, questioning him as to why he didn’t say anything about it earlier. 

“…I forgot,” he simply said, and you buy it but you deflate, wondering if he really was fit for the role of king. He just…didn’t know how to communicate with anyone. 

“Why was it not exchanged during the wedding instead?” You ask Kokomi curiously, who is oh-so happy to answer your questions. 

“Back then the rings were originally simple gifts from the Sangonomiya clan to the crown prince on his birthday. I suppose that tradition just stuck despite some changes on the rings itself. So, in a way, youcould say that it’s simply a birthday gift,” She brought her hands together with a pleasant smile. 

Come to think of it, the wedding rings that the two of you exchanged during the wedding were…fake. Just for show. You exchanged them during the ceremony but they were taken off as soon as the whole thing was over and you didn’t see them again. Perhaps these were like replacements, or maybe the real ones. 

“Perhaps the prince can explain more about the rings if time allows. Now then, I’ll have to catch up with you later, princess,” Kokomi curtsied again, and smoothly leaves the conversation. Without her there it’s as if the two of you are back to your gruff demeanors. 

You cross your arms on your chest and say “Well?” to fish out an explanation from Scaramouche. He lolls his head lazily towards you. “You’ll see later, they’ll make a big show of us exchanging the rings, after we cut my birthday cake.”

Oh great. You thought to yourself. The whole thing was quite literally a show. Scaramouche’s birthday show for all the young nobles to see. It was rather horrifying and just as you thought you didn’t mind the attention, it really did seem like all of it would be on you for the rest of the night. 

Surprisingly, you and Scaramouche seemed to share the same thought. He didn’t like these theatrics either, and so the two of you silently agreed to just hang out on one table together, discreetly eating some food unless a noble disturbed the two of you and engaged in conversation. However, these ones were not that adept at making long conversations. The young ones would say something about the weather, ask how the two of you were and would have nothing else to talk about and leave almost instantly. 

It was like a blessing in disguise. 

When Scaramouche’s birthday cake was rolled out, you had to tip your head up to see the entirety of it. It was a royal lavender colour, and you didn’t bother to count how many tiers there were, it looked as if one poke would tip it over.

The announcer was talking. Something about celebrating Scaramouche’s birthday and it being a joyous occasion. You tuned it all out cause all you were focused on was not making a fool of yourself while the others watched on and clapped in awe at how grand the cake was. 

Scaramouche was passed a knife and he took it. Then, with the knife still gripped in his hand he seemed to offer it to you. “We’re supposed to cut it together,” You blink at him but follow suit, lest you would just stand there like a fool. You placed your hand atop his which was holding the cutting knife and just followed as his hand hovered above the cake. There was a countdown, and both of your hands pushed down through a piece, making a clean cut and perfect slice.

That piece of cake was set aside on a plate, possibly for the two of you to enjoy later. The theatrics didn’t stop there. It was the ring exchange now, and Scaramouche still looked as bored as ever as he fished it out of his pocket. 

“May our hearts always be connected,” Your head jerks up as you hear Scaramouche utter the words. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s picking up your left hand, ring ready on his other. You can’t stop the goosebumps that rise behind your neck, making you shiver. The words seemed out of place in his mouth, with his expression so blank it’s hard to think that he’s sincere, but then his eyes hold yours, there seems to be a slight squeeze on your hand as he slips the ring around your ring finger. “…no matter the distance, you’ll always be protected,” 

He finished just as the ring rests snugly on your finger, and he takes a moment to admire it on your hand, still splayed atop his. 

The sentences he said were your short wedding vows, and though it’s your second time hearing it, there’s something different about it this time around. “I–” You start, when you realize that it’s supposed to be your turn. You remember yours clear as day, because the two of you had practiced it back then, endlessly. 

His eyes follow your every move, from the way you picked up his ring, to the way there was a slight tremble in your hand when you picked up his. “I vow to always be by your side…” Your hands are a little cold, he notes…and yet…why does he feel nothing but warmth, watching your lips move to recite the vows? “…To be your shelter, your strength…and your bride,”

As you place the ring in the correct place on his finger, the two of you move your head at the same time, meeting each other’s gazes. Your lips are slightly apart in wonder. 

When did it become easier to say those words?

“Y/N,” Scaramouche rarely says your name, but when he does it sounds like a delicacy. Something that you only enjoy once in a while. You realize he calls your name to warn you, your heart suddenly leaps out of your chest and starts galloping like a frenzied horse.

You’re supposed to kiss. Why did no one tell you about this?

Scaramouche’s hand easily rests on the side of your face. You don’t think you’re ready for this. You’re slightly panicking and you only hope it isn’t evident as he starts to dip closer–

BANG!

You startle and jump, instinctively clutching at Scaramouche’s coat when the ballroom starts to register that someone had come in rather forcefully. There are sudden whispers all around you and it seemed as if the atmosphere had changed drastically. Scaramouche still has his hand on your cheek when he turns to face the intruder striding towards the two of you. 

Prince Tartaglia approaches. 

In full armor and battle gear, knights following behind him.

You aren’t aware that the pearl on your ring suddenly glows a fiery red.

Scaramouche has time to glance at his, the pearl sheen on his ring turns dark, almost black under the light. Then, as if reading your emotions clearly, he states “Being afraid does nothing,” he drops the hand that was on your cheek, and subtly places himself in front of you as Tartaglia nears. “Besides, I’ll make quick work of this uninvited bastard,” 

Scaramouche grins, and it’s as if an unspoken war had just started. 

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Summary: When Prince Scaramouche picks you out of a random group of commoners to marry, your life is turned upside down. He’s mean, snarky, condescending and he doesn’t act like a proper husband or prince at all. However, when Prince Tartaglia from the neighbouring kingdom takes an interest in you, Prince Scaramouche finds himself even more annoyed than usual. This is the story of him and you navigating this roller coaster of a relationship.

Warnings:mentions of sex, hints of character death, kind of fast paced, longer than normal, not much of Scaramouche here, but once you finish this chapter you KNOW that the next one is gunna be delicious Scaramouche angst. Aha.

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary and a recap on the Royal AU plots are here.

Read other parts:(Ruthless Prince Masterlist)

Scaramouche wakes up the next morning rather peacefully. His eyes flutter open, and it’s still quite dark in the room. The two of you have slipped away from your tight hold of each other, though your head is still resting on his outstretched arm. 

You’re both covered by the blankets, but he’s aware that the two of you are still completely naked under it. He feels a sigh on his lips, knowing that he has to get up, but, for a moment longer he stays by your side and inches the tiniest bit closer. 

His hand lifts up to gently rest on your cheek, careful not to wake you up…not that he thinks you would wake up so easily, after such a tiring night. He gives your cheek a quick stroke with his thumb, before he realizes that he’s just making things hard for himself, so he withdraws his hand back with another sigh. 

He pushes himself up in the next moment, swings his legs to the edge of the bed and gets ready to head out. While freshening up in the shower, he catches a glimpse of his ring, and he vaguely remembers it showing a fiery pink bordering on crimson glow the whole of last night…which only meant that those colours probably hinted on passion and…maybe something deeper. Something that he shouldn’t really think about right now.

He emerged from the bathroom still tired, but more awake and he walks on over to the door, battling with himself whether or not to give you a last glance. He loses the battle quite easily, and turns his head towards your form on the bed. Still peacefully sleeping. His hand on the door knob loosens. He didn’t have to wake you up. In fact it would probably be better if you slept through the whole war, rather than be awake and worry too much.

Still, he wanted to secretly see your eyes one last time before he left. It would give him some sort of comfort, but he shouldn’t ask for too much. One last look, and he turned the knob to the door, silently opening and closing it behind him. His first stop was the throne room, then the fields where the troops would be waiting on horseback and with their weapons ready. 

The atmosphere is instantly heavier the moment he steps out into the hallways. He only had his light armor on at the moment, the royal armor was kept in a separate room at the back of the throne room, along with valuable artifacts for battle. Scaramouche’s armor and artifact set was named “Kuzushi”. Specially crafted for a high level electro user like him, his armor and artifacts had to withstand thunder and harsh weathers, and at the same time enhancing his use of magic. 

In the same room, off to a corner of the royal backroom was a magical pedestal coated with golden paint. The stone column had intricate carvings on it, and on the top, hovered what looked to be a glowing, purple chess piece. Scaramouche gazed at it, almost longingly. It was protected by a small magical barrier, anyone who touches it will be zapped and deflected away, even Scaramouche. The only ones who had access to it was the King and Kuni, both of which would not give the gnosis away to Scaramouche until they thought he was ready. In reality, the magical barrier could probably be broken by a strong enough vision-wielder. 

The electro gnosis.

Once upon a time it was the one thing that Scaramouche had sought after. The electro gnosis could only be used and held by the current king. At the moment, that wasn’t him. His father, being out on business, decided to leave the gnosis in the Kingdom, knowing that it was safer here than out there. It was an infinitely powerful device, with it, he can probably win the war easily but…he wasn’t allowed to wield it yet. That, and he heard that it held immense power, possibly stronger than a delusion…and Scaramouche was cautious around things like that, for obvious reasons. 

His father had given him five conditions before he could take the throne, one was to get married, which he quickly tried to check off his list, thus meeting you. The next was to show that he was ready to lead the kingdom. The third was to have complete reign over his powers demonstrating that he was an able fighter, both physically and mentally. The fourth was just a matter of coming of age, and finally the last, was to understand the importance of companionship. 

The last one…Scaramouche had yet to wrap his head around it and was confused as to how his father could possibly “test” that he understood what “companionship” was. But now was not the time to think about it. Scaramouche pried his eyes away from the electro gnosis and heads to the field. He’s met by Kuni midway, who confirms the plan with him.

“I’m to stay here with the princess by your orders, and if anything were to happen…To take her somewhere safe,” Kuni repeats and Scaramouche nods. “Are you sure about this, milord?” Kuni asks and Scaramouche closes his eyes.

“You also think it’s the best option, don’t you? Besides, if they were to somehow infiltrate the castle, someone who can fight has to be here,” Kuni doesn’t say anything, but deep inside knows that this is the best way to keep you safe. He accompanies the prince to the field, assisting him in the preparations before the knights left with him.

Scaramouche had a war horse ready for him, and he hoisted himself up as everyone straightened up and greeted him. There were lines and lines of knights and horses, all waiting for his command. He swept the entire company with his gaze, he wasn’t much for speeches, but he would never wish death on any of them.

“…I’ll take the front…Their army has delusions…” Scaramouche started. “I’ll weaken them first, and no one moves forward or attacks until I give the signal, is that clear?” 

A chorus of “Yes your majesty!” echoes out in the field.

“Anyone who doesn’t follow will be dismissed from the title of knights immediately,” Scaramouche threatens, making his point that they had to wait for his signal. They HAD to, for their own safety, though the way he snarls out his threat makes it seem uncaring. 

“One more thing,” he adds as his horse turns to go towards the back gate, ready to head out the kingdom walls. “Leave Tartaglia to me,” 

For threatening his kingdom and his peace, Scaramouche would not let him get away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Princess?” There was a light knock on your door, you could barely make it out, what with you still weaving in and out of dreamland. You had a false sense that Scaramouche was still next to you, so you stirred, and ignored the knocks on the door.

Moments later it came again. 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Princess?” Your brows furrowed, and your eyes groggily peer open. You blink a couple of times, adjusting to the brightness of the room and took a few seconds to lay there and think. You realize Scaramouche isn’t here, and that’s what makes you sit up on the bed, blanket pooling down on your lap.

You’re bare and naked, your mind starting to work a little clearer, the events of last night coming back to you bit by bit. It’s still quite clear in your mind…Scaramouche’s kisses, the way he caressed you, the way the two of you crossed over to that point of intimacy. It brings a subtle heat to your cheeks, but you finally answer the person at the door.

“Yes, I’m awake,” and it was obvious by your voice that you had just woken up. There’s a pause in knocking, before Kuni speaks from behind it. 

“Good morning, princess…Might I request you to change into your light armor? It’s for safety purposes, you see,” He explains and you do remember that a special light armor was fitted just for you, and you guessed that “safety purposes” meant when things went south… If Scaramouche died, and if you had to flee. 

Scaramouche…

You were suddenly conscious of the ring on your finger, picking your hand up and immediately checking the glow of it. You sigh in relief when you see the pearl shining an incredibly dark red…though you had no idea what it meant. 

“I understand, Kuni. I’ll be out in a minute,” You say, loud enough for him to hear on the other side, your thoughts instantly sliding back to the prince.

How long had he been out? Daylight was already upon you, which means that the battle must have started already. You saunter towards the curtains, pulling it back to reveal the glass balcony doors. 

You try to see if there’s any sign of battle out there, but the kingdom walls were much further than you thought, and it was impossible to see beyond them. You stare for a moment longer, before glancing at your ring again. Still red. 

You already knew you would be constantly looking at it throughout the day. 

You draw the curtains back again and proceed to get dressed into the armor specially made for you. It wasn’t really much of an armor as it was a leather corset and a black cloak. You guessed it was so that it wouldn’t slow you down much, this thing was made for fast escapes rather than a full on battle. 

There’s a subtlePLINK that you suddenly hear, and for a moment you stop pulling up your brown leather boots to listen closely, freezing in place. You don’t hear it anymore, and you think nothing of it, continuing to pull the last piece of the light armor on and making sure everything was in place.

PLINK.

There it is again, and this time, you stiffen when you hear it. Purely because it was not a sound that was familiar to you. It takes a few more seconds before another PLINK follows, and you deduce that it’s coming from the balcony doors. 

You walk over to it just as you did earlier, clutching at the curtain to draw it back, wondering what it was that was making that sound, just as another PLINK reaches your ears.

It’s an arrow, the sharp tip of it knocking into the glass balcony door with a PLINK and falling onto the floor. That’s where the sound was coming from, the arrow tip deflecting from the glass. On closer inspection, a large crack had started to form, and when you pick your eyes up, you’re met with a familiar smirking face, arrow drawn back, ready to pierce the glass door again. 

Tartaglia chuckles from outside, watching the horror dawn on your features. “Oh, princess, I was hoping you were still in dreamland,” he mutters to himself, letting the arrow loose, it flying towards the same glass panel he had been focusing on all that time. “Well, since you’re awake, I suppose I can be a little louder now,” He pulls on his clawed gloves, walks toward the balcony door just as he watches you run away from him, towards your bedroom door, pulling it open to let a flood of knights in. 

Tartaglia totally ignores the sudden surge of knights in your room, he retracts his fist back, and punches through the glass door, effectively shattering it, maneuvering his hand to turn the knob, letting himself in. The knights standing guard outside your bedroom start to attack Tartaglia while Kuni quickly drags you away.

Kuni has his hand tight around your wrist, running with you towards the throne room. “Wh-Why is he here?!” You try to ask, gasping for breath as you ran. Kuni doesn’t answer because he doesn’t know for sure, but he had an inkling and he had to make sure that he took the right steps to keep you and the kingdom safe. 

He pushes the door to the throne room open, then drags you towards the back room, revealing the royal armory to you. The one that Scaramouche had just been in, hours before. And…at the back and far corner of it, was a pedestal coated with golden paint. The stone column had intricate carvings on it, and on the top, hovered what looked to be a glowing, purple chess piece…

The electro gnosis.

“I haven’t a clue how he knows about this,” Kuni fumbled with his breast pocket, “but this is the only thing of value in the castle right now…and if this gnosis falls into the wrong hands…” He retrieves what looks to be a coin, engraved with the Kingdom’s crest. He pushes the coin into a similar sized hole on the pedestal and it gives off a light glow, before Kuni safely snatches the electro gnosis into his hand. “Entire countries could fall,”

He thinks about it, and he thinks about it hard. Scaramouche would not come back in time, he must still be out there in the heat of war. So what were the chances of Kuni beating Tartaglia, a vision-wielder, in battle? 

A mere 10%, he calculated. 15 if he was lucky. Him who had no vision versus Tartaglia who had honed it for years… There was no way. They miscalculated, they didn’t think Tartaglia himself would head straight to the castle, and now they were stuck with a big problem.

“Princess…” Kuni grips the electro gnosis in his hand, but releases it, opening his palm and stretching it towards you. “I’m sorry…but I’ll have to entrust this to you,” 

You stare at the glowing chess piece and slowly shake your head. “What do you mean? I can’t take that! Isn’t it valuable? What do you want me to do with it?” You were near hysterics, you could tell no one anticipated Tartaglia to show up. Neither did you. For all that time you only thought that he was interested in Scaramouche’s electro vision, nothing else. You didn’t even know anything about what this chess piece was. 

Kuni takes your arm and forces the gnosis into your palm, folding your fingers over it, and immediately starts leading you away. “It’s the electro gnosis, princess…It’s complicated to explain right now but it’s important that it’s kept safe…away from the wrong hands…” 

The two of you have gone back to the throne room, steps hurried. “How do you know this is what Tartaglia is after?” You hiss at Kuni, trying to keep up with him.

“I don’t. But it’s possible. Now keep it somewhere safe before we step out into the hallway,” Kuni stops at the the throne room door, watching as you pat yourself down, looking for a pocket on your leather armor, when you find one, you slip the gnosis in, making sure it was snug in there. “Not to worry, princess, we’ll flee together… We’re going out to the field, taking a horse and traveling to the next kingdom over. But if something were to happen… You’ll have to keep going,” Kuni pauses before he finishes his sentence, “By yourself,”

“What do you–How can I go by myself I don’t even know– What about my parents? I can’t do this alone!” When faced with an emergency one just had to do their best to cope with the sudden changes. You were not very good at that, but neither were other people. Thrown into an unexpected and dangerous situation, everything had happened in a span of a minute or two and your mind was still struggling to keep up with the sudden change in plans.

“I’m sorry, your highness. We have no time. For now let’s focus on getting away,” Kuni explained. Yes, he could stay and fight, but he already determined that he wouldn’t be able to best Tartaglia. So the best option was for him to flee along with you, and hopefully keep you and the gnosis safe. 

However, when Kuni pulls the door to the hallway open, stepping out along with you, Tartaglia was already approaching from the end of the hallway, it doesn’t look like he’s hurt at all, and you could guess that the knights were no match for him. That, and he had his own men with him, the penchant on their hips glowing a strong hydro blue colour. Delusions.

“Go!” Kuni pushes you towards the direction of the field, he runs just behind you. It’s still a long run towards your destination, but you had never pushed your legs so hard before. Your gasps for breath and pants are so loud in your ears, along with the whip of wind on your face. 

Arrows suddenly fly past you, and you yelp, ducking your head a little as you continue to run. 

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” A flash of blue is all you see, there’s a big wave of water out of nowhere, suddenly crashing down the hallways, the waves riding up the walls, coming up to devour you and Kuni. You feel your body weight thrown around, weightless with the water and seconds later you’re drenched from head to toe, pushing yourself up from the wet floor, coughing. 

You’re separated from Kuni, he’s closer to Tartaglia than you are, and it’s here that he knows he won’t be able to escape. He doesn’t turn around, but stands up and wields his blade confidently, “Princess, you have to go,” 

Still on the ground, you watch in horror at how the Snezhnayan knights surround Kuni, Tartaglia at their front. “Oh?” Tartaglia chuckles, not making a move to attack. “This doesn’t have to be difficult, my friends, just hand me what I need and we’ll go… Well, when I say that, I mean that I’ll obliterate Scaramouche with his kingdom’s own electro gnosis…and I’ll come back to claim this castle as my own. That includes you, princess. So just sit tight, alright?” 

Kuni clutches the sword tighter in his hand. “How do you know about the electro gnosis?” 

Tartaglia tips his head back a little with a laugh. “Oh Kuni, you underestimate my former friendship with Scaramouche. He talked about a lot of things when he was younger, just an innocent little boy who wanted all the power in the world. He’s been obsessed with that gnosis just as much as I’ve been, of course he’s talked about it.”

Tartaglia then shrugs his shoulders with his arms out. “Pity though…that he seems to have lost interest in it during the past few months. I wonder why… Well, no matter. If he isn’t going to use it…” Then he expertly twirls his bow in his hand, another flash of blue, his bow has morphed into hydro twin blades, excitement in his eyes. “Then, I will,”

He takes a fighting stance, Kuni does too, but he shouts over at you, trying to break you out of your shock. “Princess. Go. Now. Please!” If he was going to die, he at least wanted to know that you got out safely. 

You jerk up, body confused and mind muddled. You had no idea whatsoever what to do but you push yourself up, slightly heavy with the water and continue down the hallway.

Field. Horse. Run away.

You kept repeating that in your mind. You feel that if you stop chanting it, you would forget everything and veer off course, that your brain couldn’t handle so many things right now except 

Field. Horse. Run away.

“…Follow her,” Tartaglia tells his few men, “I’ll deal with Kuni…” Tartaglia didn’t anticipate the fact that you had the gnosis, it was exactly as Kuni planned. At least he’d be able to buy you time. 

In a blink of an eye, the fight starts with a series of clash and clangs. Kuni tries his best to deter the Snezhnayan knights from going after you, trying his best to slow them down and pushing them back. But with five of them and one of him, his focus couldn’t be split in so many ways. All four knights successfully break past Kuni in pursuit of you, and now it was just him and Tartaglia.

“Kuni…you’re not a bad fighter… I’d say better than most of my knights, even… We can still talk this out. How about it, comrade? Pass the gnosis on to me, and I’ll make you my right hand man in the new era of this kingdom.” Tartaglia stretches out his hand, he was quite serious in his offer, but Kuni only scoffed. 

“…You were never very reasonable as a child, Tartaglia… All you wanted to do was to fight, to train, to be strong… You and the prince were power hungry, blind for the pursuit of strength in almost the same ways…but I daresay Scaramouche has changed…” Kuni, despite the situation, smiles. “There are things…people…more important than power. I’m glad the prince is slowly understanding that,” 

Tartaglia drops his hand to his side with a condescending smile. “He’s become weak, that’s what happened,”

Kuni feels that the real battle is about to start, and he can only pray that you were well on your way, that you were fast enough to flee, or else his sacrifice would be in vain. “Not at all, on the contrary… the prince has gained a different kind of strength, a stronger will to protect the things around him,”

Kuni goes back to his fighting stance, “……I only wish I could have seen his transformation through, until the end,” 

In a flash, Tartaglia and Kuni start to meet blades. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rush of wind on your face just spurs you to go faster. The horse gallops at high speed, yet you don’t know where it’s going. You followed a trail into the woods, thinking that it would be the safest way out of the kingdom. At some point the horse broke through the woods and crossed a small drawbridge out of the kingdom walls, a moment later, you’re galloping through a different trail again, this time it seemed to climb up to the mountains. 

You almost fall off when the horse suddenly stops, neighing angrily and becoming confused with the sudden barrage of arrows that whip by the two of you. You hold on to the reins for dear life, almost getting thrown off at the abrupt stop. You look behind you to see the four knights at a distance, still far off, but catching up at incredible speed. They must have taken horses from the stables too. 

“Go, go!” You mutter at the horse, kicking its sides to get it running again. It thankfully obeys, but now you’re frighteningly aware that death is just behind you. You hold on to its mane and reins. It seems to go faster than before, as if feeling your distress and possibly recognizing that the two of you were in imminent danger. You don’t know if you imagine it but it sounds as if the other horses are getting closer, the sound of their hooves reaching your ears. 

You yelp in surprise once again when the horse suddenly stops, yet again nearly throwing you off of it. “What now?!” You panic, straighten up, and see that you’ve reached the end of a cliff. The sound in your ears was not the other horses’ hooves. It was the waterfall. The river below you that sent the sounds of crashing waves buzzing in your ears. It’s quite a drop down, and the river currents are strong because of the waterfall at it’s lip.

You steer the horse away from the edge and will it to go towards the left, to scale the cliff and see if there was another way to get to the other side, but the arrows appear again, this time it nicks the horse’s leg and it neighs in pain, trotting around on itself, kicking its leg to try and get the stuck arrow dislodged. 

You shudder in fear, still holding on to the reins, the Snezhnayan knights are nearing, the sound of the horse’s neighs are deafening in your ears, the waterfall is making your brain ring. 

For a moment, you enter a space where everything seemed to be in slow motion. 

You could hear your heart beating in your chest, hear your stuttered labored breaths. 

You see the knights approaching, your horse panicking, and your head turns towards the cliff, the water droplets spraying from the falls, the crash of strong waves in the river. 

Everything was so clear and slow in your mind. 

The knights were climbing off of their horses, about to seize you, about to jog up and pull you off of your horse.

But you dismount your horse first, both your feet landing on the ground with a soft thump. At a last attempt to keep you safe, to keep the gnosis safe, to keep the kingdom safe; you throw yourself off the cliff, wind whipping around you as everything seemed to go back to normal speed.

You feel yourself crashing through the surface of the river, your body ached at impact, and it sent you far into its depths, tumbling around the water. The intensity of it shocks your entire body and you black out in mere seconds.

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Minors do not interact! 

But don’t worry, the full post isn’t here anyway. As I’ve said before, Chapter 16.2 is kind of like an extra chapter. You can skip it and it won’t change much in your experience of the story. This is for those who would really like to know what exactly happened and how exactly reader and Scaramouche spent the night. 

For this reason, I decided to put this chapter up on ko-fi instead. 

Now before you maul me. Like I said, it’s an extra chapter. Read it or not it doesn’t change a thing, plus it’s soft smut. Also, I’m aiming to get chapter 17 out today or tomorrow, most likely tomorrow so please spare me the hate and tears hahahha and yes of course that’ll be posted on tumblr.

The main chapters of The Ruthless Prince will still be on tumblr. If you can, I do appreciate it if you leave comments or replies on this post once you’ve read 16.2

Anyway, here are some tidbits, snippets and information about it:

Word Count:5.4k(yes it’s quite a long soft smut)

Warnings: penetration, implications of masturbation, no protection and I don’t support the pull out method but we are supposed to be in olden times, so I don’t think condoms exist yet? but no, reader doesn’t get pregnant in the story, not because of this session at least haha, first time: a lot of experimenting going on, fairly slow paced and soft in my opinion, female and male receiving and giving oral, fem!reader, I think that’s it.

Snippet 1:

And it’s your turn to feel that bit of pride in you, to know that you had made him feel good. “K-Keep going…” Scaramouche’s voice stutters but you obey and start on a steady pace on his cock, your hand pumping up and down, parts of him disappearing as your hand slides and squeezes at him. “Shiiiiiit–”

Snippet 2:

“…You’re embarrassingly wet,” he gives you a sadistic grin, and you see exactly a Scaramouche that you’re familiar with. Earlier he had been a bit unsure and shy, possibly even cautious but now that he’s warmed up, he looked as if he knew exactly what he wanted and he wasn’t going to be nice to you about it.

“Shut up…” You mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up. You’re painfully aware of how wet you’ve gotten. It started from the kissing, intensified when he played with your breasts and just tripled in warmth when you started sucking him off. Something about his moans and groans just did it for you.

Snippet 3:

“R-Relax, Y/N,” It was so damn tight. He kisses your neck in an attempt to get you to ease up, feathers kisses along your jaw and again lands on your lips for a passionate kiss. It soothes your mind a little and gradually he feels himself press into the pucker of your lower lips, his tip enters with difficulty and you instinctively wrap your arms around his shoulders with a whimper.

Link to the FULL finished chapter on buymeacoffee:

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/lenaprimofate/e/77127

Note: Because I’m only recently exploring buymeacoffee, I can’t guarantee that I can help you if you have any problems with payments, but they do accept credit cards and what not. Also, there is no time limit on the posts, that means once you support, you have a lifetime access to them (from what I know at least, please correct me if I’m wrong.)

MASTERLIST

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The Ruthless Prince (Part 16.1) Scaramouche x fem!reader [Genshin Royal AU]

Summary: When Prince Scaramouche picks you out of a random group of commoners to marry, your life is turned upside down. He’s mean, snarky, condescending and he doesn’t act like a proper husband or prince at all. However, when Prince Tartaglia from the neighbouring kingdom takes an interest in you, Prince Scaramouche finds himself even more annoyed than usual. This is the story of him and you navigating this roller coaster of a relationship.

Warnings: NOT PROOFREAD forgive me, longer than usual, lots of things happen, steamy! but completely safe for work, implied sexual activities. 16.1 because I cut out the hot parts, 16.2 will be the one that details what exactly they did *eyebrow wiggle* but it doesn’t take away anything from the story if you don’t read 16.2. It’s just a little extra for those who feel like it.

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary and a recap on the Royal AU plots are here.

Read other parts: (Ruthless Prince Masterlist)

You sit in the silence of your shared room. Glancing at the clock on the wall, it is now past the birthday celebrations. Past your usual bed time, even. 

And yet, not a wink of sleep has found you.

There’s only anxiousness and uncertainty that makes your chest tighten. It drops to your stomach, and it dissipates the slightest bit, making you think that you’ve gotten control of your emotions back, but it shoots up your stomach and wraps around your heart again. The cycle of being anxious and uncertain continues.

Scaramouche disappeared as soon as the two of you got back to the castle. He strode past the big castle doors in a hurry, and when he remembered that you were there with him he swerved around and only said one thing. “Go to sleep,” It was rather dismissive, and for a moment you wondered if going to sleep was really the only thing you could do. 

It turned out that even going to sleep was difficult at the moment. For the past three hours you weren’t quite sure what you’ve been doing, sitting on the bed in your night gown, back leaning against the headboard, trying to read a book yet realizing that you’ve been reading the same line over and over again. You sighed, and dropped the book on your lap whilst closing your eyes.

Things escalated so fast. The moment that Tartaglia burst through those doors, you didn’t have any idea how much things could turn so bad.. 

“You’re here uninvited. Must be something serious,” Scaramouche sneered at the Snezhnayan Prince. Gone is his red scarf, replaced by a dark purple coat that seemed to radiate wickedness, the scruff of his neck is wrapped in a feathery white collar. There’s a red mask that rests on the side of his head, one that you’ve never seen before, and his armor that clung to his form made his hands look like claws instead of human hands.

He looked like a modern day devil.

“Quite,” Tartaglia replies, the grin plastered on his face rivals that of Scaramouche’s. He raises his arms and with a powerful voice addresses the whole room. “An important announcement, ladies and gentlemen,” he commands the eyes and ears of people to look at him just with a simple statement. Scaramouche’s demeanor changes, a frown replaces his sneer, he senses that this might not be the usual scuffle or fight between rivals that he initially thought it would be.

“I, Prince Tartaglia of Snezhnaya, declare war over the Kingdom of Balladeer.” He points one clawed finger towards Scaramouche, whose face was now painted blank. You, behind him, slowly internalize the words and start to process what was happening. People around you gasp, there are murmurs and mumbles and whispers all around as Tartaglia continues. “My victory will mean that I take over these lands, anyone who gets in my way will be punished.” He upturns his hand, palm facing up, “Everything of yours, your kingdom, your vision, your resources–” his darkened eyes dart towards your cowering form behind Scaramouche “your people…will submit to me,”

There’s an uproar in the venue, people start to shuffle away unsure of what to do, some of them file out of the ballroom, possibly wanting to get home and warn their family as soon as they could.

“But, I’m a fair man,” Tartaglia smiles all too pleasantly. “A battle isn’t fair if one of us is unprepared…by daylight tomorrow morning, my men and I will be outside your castle walls, ready to obliterate it,” The palm he has stretched out, crumples into a fist, and finally, he finishes his speech, dropping his hand next to him. 

“…Confident as ever,” Is the first thing that Scaramouche says. He crosses his arms over his chest and tips his head up to meet Tartaglia eye to eye. Then, as if the whole world was his, as if he wasn’t the tiniest bit threatened, he smirks. Smug. Matching Tartaglia’s superiority. “You’re taking nothing from me and when I’m done with you, you’ll never even think about stepping into my territory again,”

It’s a war.

No matter how many times you repeat it in your head it just doesn’t seem real to you. People could be killed, innocent men and women and children who are just trying to live day by day. People who have lived here for all their lives have nowhere to run and tomorrow all they can do is stay inside and hope for the best. That wasn’t fair and all for what? A power-hungry prince who seemed to have some sort of grudge towards Scaramouche.

And me, what will I do? Sit pretty and wait? What about my parents? 

You think to yourself, the clock ticking by and in the blink of an eye, it’s been another 20 minutes of just sitting and digesting everything. You shake your head away from your thoughts.

Scaramouche hadn’t come back from whatever preparations he was handling, it was past midnight. How was he going to lead a war without any sleep? Without thinking your legs swung over to the edge of the bed and you had the urge to go and see what he was still up to.

There must have been thousands of preparations, but when you stepped out into the hallway it was quieter than you thought it would be. Somehow the image in your mind were maids and knights running around, alerting the kingdom about the impending trouble. There was none of that. It was quiet, like any other night in the castle.

Your footsteps were light on the carpeted floor, following the path that you recognized out into the training field, your gut feeling telling you that if there was anywhere Scaramouche might be right now, it was there. 

When you opened the wooden door outwards a nice night breeze hit your face, your hair momentarily ruffled with the wind. You push past and you see him in the middle of the field, sword in hand, covered in sweat, and looking as if he’s been out there for far too long. He doesn’t sense your presence, too engrossed in his own stance and concentration, like he was in a duel with the real person. 

It’s a little cold out here with what little you wear, but something strikes you as you watch him. Admiration? Unsure of what it was exactly, you approach carefully, the crunch of grass under your feet grabs his attention, his eyes darting towards the intrusion. Realizing it’s just you, he straightens up, sword dropping on his side and raises an eyebrow as you approach. “I thought I told you to go to sleep,”

You stop an arms length away from him. The wind quietly whistles once again, and aside from the faint sound of crickets there isn’t much to hear out here in the field. He stays his gaze on you as you remain silent, it’s difficult to form the words in your mouth. In the first place, you didn’t know why you went out here anyway.

However, your silence seemed to have spoken to him, he looks at you for a few more seconds, before sigh-huffing and sheathing his sword on his side. “Whatever, I’m done here anyway,” Something in his voice tells you that he wasn’t planning on sleeping tonight, but whatever aura you had given off had probably changed his mind. 

“Come on,” Scaramouche walks past you, and doesn’t turn to see if you were following. It was partly the look on your face, but it was partly the fact that the ring on his finger had been radiating shades of blue and grey the whole time he was out there on the field. He didn’t exactly know what those colours meant, but the dullness of it told him that it wasn’t something pleasant.

You follow him in silence, noticing that your heart grows heavy as you walk behind him. You watch his back, and you can’t help but think that all you could ever do was watch his back, even in a crisis like this. 

The two of you arrive back in your room, and he quickly states he’ll use the bathroom to freshen up. 

The heaviness in your heart is still there as you lay yourself on the bed, facing the bathroom door. Your eyes are heavy, but the muffled patter of water on tiles in the bathroom reminds you to stay awake. You look at the space next to you, where Scaramouche should be. The fingers tucked under your face twitches, as if it wants to reach out and feel how empty it was.

Tomorrow…Will everything be okay?

People could be killed. You think once again. And so could he. He was human, despite how brash and abrasive he was, one precise stab to the heart or an injury beyond repair would cripple him. 

Was that what you were anxious of, all this time? Or was it the fact that if he loses, Tartaglia claims everything of Scaramouche’s, and the Snezhnayan prince certainly wouldn’t spare you. Your eyes snap open when you hear the bathroom door open, not realizing that you had fallen asleep for a small moment there. It usually wouldn’t wake you up, these small sounds, but the atmosphere tonight has gotten you tense. 

Again he’s clad in his silk sleeping attire, towel around his neck and drying off his hair with one hand. He approaches the bed, passes you a glance, and sits on the edge of it, continuing to ruffle his hair with the towel. 

The sight is so mundane. So plain. So ordinary and yet the possibility that you won’t be able to see it again tomorrow night…the feeling that came with it was so complicated. He had been far from nice to you, the past few months. Perhaps there were instances wherein he showed parts of him that was human, an emotion other than loathing, but for most of the time that you’ve lived here, he was infinitely hard to reach.

But not impossible…

One had to squint, very very hard, to see the kindness in Scaramouche. One had to know that his words were harsh but they sometimes had an undertone of concealed and secret concern. You had to know him and spend time with him to know that he didn’t know how to apologize, but that his mannerisms changed when he felt apologetic. Only when you spent as much time with him as you did, would one realize that he didn’t like being vulnerable in front of others, but it didn’t mean that he didn’t care, he just had his subtle and rather grating and unconventional ways of showing it. 

“Stop worrying,” he suddenly mumbles, knowing that you were still awake. He’s moved on to drying his face, just as his routine goes. “I’ve made all the preparations I can, the knights have always been prepared for this, and your parents will be fine,” 

Your eyes move up to stare at the back of his head. There it is. That rare moment of him being humane. It’s been more frequent lately, and you wonder if he knows that as well. Strangely enough, you don’t respond to his statement. It dawns on you that you’ve been awfully quiet, it was strange even for you, but none of what he says eases your mind to a comfortable enough level.

“Kuni’ll stay here with you, in the castle,” That catches your attention, and he says this as he lays down on his side of the bed, his back facing you, as per usual. 

“Wouldn’t it be better if he’s out there with you?” Your head lifts up a little, there’s obvious concern laced in your voice. Kuni was a good fighter, from what you’ve heard.

“No. Along with him, there’ll be a few knights stationed here. Someone has to stay here with you, and it can’t be me,” He simply explains, and it makes a lot of sense to you, yet it doesn’t feel quite right.

You fall silent once again, looking at his back and how he seemed to be so close yet so far. He turns the lamp off on his side, usually an indication that you should turn yours off too, but you’re stuck still ruminating on your thoughts. Festering in what you would now admit was worry.

The same hand that was once resting under your cheek slides out and away, reaching over to him, towards his back, and suddenly clutching on the fabric of his sleeping shirt.

His eyes were closed, but they flash open when he feels it. His body tenses and relaxes in a span of a second. He’s blinking, staring at nothing in particular on his side of the bed, waiting for you to say something. He waited for a while, and he was confused if you were even going to say anything at all, or did you just latch on to him for some sort of…anchor? To let yourself feel that you were still in the real world, because, frankly, no matter how put together Scaramouche looked at this moment, he also had the feeling that this might just be a dream. That the war was not going to happen tomorrow and he would wake up to find out that it had just been a figment of his imagination or a sick joke. One or the other.

“…You’ve…taken care of everything else…but you haven’t said anything about yourself,” You finally started, piecing your muddled thoughts together and somehow coming up with the things that you wanted to clear up and say. “You’ll be back tomorrow when it’s over?” As casually as you could, you asked the most important question that had been weaving around in your mind ever since he told you to go to sleep.

Scaramouche could not place a word on the sudden feeling that engulfed his chest. It seemed to be a little bit of surprise and a little bit of astonishment, mixed with a pleasant bloom of warmth that made his heart pitter patter a little faster. “…I’ll be beyond the kingdom walls before daylight with the knights, and I’ll be back before nightfall, it shouldn’t be long,”

He talked about it as if it was just a meeting he had to attend. Like he didn’t have to go out there and fight for his land and his life. Like he wasn’t a prince, but a normal man out on an errand to buy fruits, telling his wife he’ll be back before dinner. But it wasn’t that at all, and you weren’t alright with that.

“…You’re sure?” You prod, and now it’s his turn to fall silent. You wait for an answer, five seconds, ten, fifteen. He doesn’t give you one and that’s how you know that he’s only trying to reassure you with false words. 

There was no way Scaramouche would know exactly what would happen, and there was no way for him to know if he would really return. 

Your hand loosens at the realization, releasing the now crumpled part of his shirt, hand inching back towards you as your heart tries not to drop. In a split second he’s turned around, now facing you, hand on your wrist before it could even rest peacefully beside you. Your eyes widen a fraction at the sudden movement, but you close it almost immediately when he flicks your forehead rather painfully.

“Ow!” your other free hand comes up to your forehead to rub it and you half glare at him for the sudden punishment. 

“What kind of question is that? Who the fuck is going to put up with your clumsy and stubborn ass if I don’t come back?” He asks, deadpan look on his face but there seems to be a genuine hint of annoyance there.

“I was just making sure…” You mumble while still rubbing your forehead and twisting your wrist away from his hold. He lets it go and glances at the ring on your finger. 

“See this?” He holds up his hand for you to see his own ring and you blink at it, before looking at yours.

“Oh, yeah, mine’s been turning different colours…What’s that about?” You ask.

“It’s connected to me. The Sangonomiya clan makes the rings with varunda lazurites, infused with magical properties of the sango pearl. Don’t ask me how it works, it’s just been tradition for the rings to be connected, so you know how the other feels,” He drops his hand and looks bored as he explains it, but you’re thoroughly intrigued.

You pick up your hand and turn it around in wonder. “Oh…So these colours are connected to your emotions… I didn’t think I’d see different ones cause you’re so uncaring,” You said it offhandedly, insulting him was like part of the normal conversation and him insulting you was equally as normal. He glares at you, about to have a comeback but you pipe up with your question first. “What does pink mean?” because the pearl on your ring was clearly glowing a pink colour.

He glances at it and scoffs, “Fuck knows. These things don’t come with instructions, you just have to go with what your gut tells you,” 

Your nose and eyebrows scrunch up as you lay your hand next to you. “Well that doesn’t make it a very effective “feeling” ring then doesn’t it?” 

He huffs, “It’ll at least let you know that I’m still alive. If the colour fades, then…”

And suddenly that curtain of dread and tense atmosphere descends on you again, just when you thought the mood was becoming a little better. 

So that’s why he talked about it. 

He wanted to tell you that there was a way for you to know what was happening, even if you were apart from each other. Wanted to tell you how to know if he had died.

“…I see…” there’s an almost uncomfortable silence when you utter the words, but he wasn’t done talking.

“…If the colour fades, you’re going to have to tell Kuni. He’ll take you on horseback to the neighbouring kingdom, we’re mostly on friendly terms and you’ll be fine there…your parents will follow,”

It hits you that he’s prepared even for the scenario in which he’s killed. Your mouth opens with slight indignation and shock. It felt unfair that he could just decide what to do with you and your life, but you couldn’t deny that it was probably for the best. There’s a shiver that runs up your spine, but you don’t tremble. You do, however, feel the tremble in your heart and you look up into his eyes to glare at him with great displeasure. “That’s not what I want to hear,”

Scaramouche wonders why it is that your eyes start to look a little glossy. He gives a lopsided grin, laying there next to you and watching the emotions race through your face, it was easier to decipher than what the ring shows him. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you glad you’re finally gunna get out of this hell hole? It’s one way to get rid of me,” He’s saying it with humor, but you find none in it and he knows it, because he’s never looked at you with such a tender gaze before. 

How dare he. You think. To just assume how you would feel and what you wanted, but it was exactly how you would have felt months before and now, you’re not too sure what exactly it is that spurs you to be so upset by his words. To be so bothered that he might not come back to you alive. To know that he had still thought about you, in the event that he was killed in battle. It was unexpected and touching, but somehow, in all the wrong ways and methods. 

“That’s not–” the unexpected tear that slips past your eye surprises you as well, but you look at Scaramouche and there’s no surprise in his face. It’s as if he knew this was going to happen. You gulp down the thick lump in your throat. “How can you talk about it so easily? I don’t–” another tear follows, followed by another and another until you can’t control them anymore. They’re more out of frustration, not sadness or anger. 

It feels as if whatever progress you’ve made with him was slipping away. Like the parts that you’ve seen of him had been ripped from your hands and the past few months in which you saw the confusing yet weirdly fascinating sides of him had burned away. 

“You’re an idiot,” he whispers and you feel his hand rest on your cheek, thumbing away the tears on one side of your face. “You can live a normal life again, away from the issues in aristocracy and free from my bullshit. Who knows, maybe thereis someone else out there who would put up with your impossible attitude,” he grins a little when he says this. 

It’s ironic, the way he puts it. Because between the two of you, you believe that he has the more impossible attitude, and yet as always, he turns it around on you. As if trying to convince you that him dying was a good thing, that there was nothing but benefits. 

“Stop it,” You try to assert, but the words come out softly without any strength. Your moment of weakness dissipates despite still feeling the tightness in your throat. You take your hand and hastily wipe the back of it over your eyes, but there’s still wetness messily smeared around the area and if he continues talking, more might leak out. 

Scaramouche doesn’t take away the hand on your cheek, and now he’s only looking at you. Digesting the fact that you were so distraught over the thought of him perishing. Your tears speak volumes. He doesn’t understand why you’re so upset over it, yet at the same time, he understands it completely. He understands because he’d felt that anxiousness before, when you were shot in the chest by an arrow, he thinks that what you feel now is exactly what he felt then. 

Perhaps it was then that he had started feeling this way and piecing the puzzle together, or perhaps it had been before that. He couldn’t be sure. 

“…If you cry you’ll make it harder for me to leave in the morning,” he admits, and the words taste nearly sour in his mouth, saying something so unusual like that. But you take it in stride and answer in your own stubborn way.

“…Then maybe I should keep crying,” 

He almost laughs despite the situation. Leave it up to you to have some sort of clever and annoying response.

At that moment, it all feels right to him. The way that you can counter his snarky attitude, that you were able to not gawk at him when he did something unusual. The way that you were hard-headed in almost the same ways as him and the way that you had somehow wrapped his cold heart in a warmth that he didn’t expect to feel from somebody. Specially someone who only started out as a pawn in his plans, but he had to admit, you had your charms. 

“…Y/N,” 

The way he says your name prepares you for his next move. He leans forward without warning, you see him approaching and your eyes instinctively close, like you’ve envisioned this moment in your mind’s eye before. 

It feels like your heart shatters into a million pieces when you feel the softness of his lips descend on yours. Like the tiny little pieces of your heart scatter inside your body and spreads the tingle to every little crevice of you. It’s not a kiss that starts out certain, if anything, it’s a little unsure, a little skeptical and cautious until your hand tethers to his shoulder, pulling yourself a little closer to him. 

You feel him sigh into the kiss with your motion, and now he presses further, a bit more certain, his hand draping over your middle and tugging you further into him. His legs are suddenly bumping into yours, tangling a little with each other as he hooks his foot behind your heel to drag your leg towards him. His body just suddenly ached for that contact, to be closer, at least for tonight. 

By the time the two of you break away, it’s with a satisfied sigh. Neither of you are out of breath, for it was a very innocent yet complex kiss. There’s a mild stupefied look on both of your faces, like the two of you hadn’t expected it at all, but found that it wasn’t exactly disagreeable. 

Your heart has definitely jumped out of your chest, and you wonder if you’re still alive. You open your mouth to say something but close it again as you fluster, unsure of what to say but very aware that this is the closest you’ve been to him, wrapped in his arms and inches away. 

Scaramouche, however, had other plans. He had a strong urge to go for another one, watching your lips move and entice him. Again, he leans forward, but he whispers before he closes the gap, his eyes locking with yours and his breath fanning your face. “If you don’t like it you’d better say something now,” 

You don’t utter a word. 

So his mouth claims yours in an open-mouthed kiss. The intensity of it is different from before. He manages to slip his arm under you and now you’re flush against him. You can’t help the slight whimper that escapes when his lips relentlessly finds yours. You’re aware of the fact that your head starts to tilt and turn to receive his kisses more willingly, adding a sense of urgency into them as if he can’t get enough and as if you’re begging for more. 

Your hands slide up his shoulders and wrap around his neck, your tongues start to meet each other for the first time and you’d always thought that the lewd sounds of intense, sloppy kissing was not your thing, but for some reason it now lights a fire in your stomach and his small sighs and subtle groaning into your mouth was just fanning the flame stronger. 

It doesn’t let up, and you’re not sure you want it to, but all of a sudden he pulls away and buries his head into the crook of your neck. He breathes heavily, his arms retreating back to him and pulling yours away from his neck, forcefully placing it back next to you. You’re confused, but he speaks up before you can ask. “…We shouldn’t,” 

It’ll make it more difficult for him and this wasn’t the right time, he thought. Again he feels like this wasn’t the correct order of things, and he’s trying to calm himself down, eyes shut tight against your neck, and yet your scent just permeates his nose. 

“…I…don’t want to be worried,” you whisper, and it seems almost innocent at first until you continue. You don’t know what pushes you to say it or where the sudden courage comes from, perhaps it was adrenaline. “I don’t want to think about tomorrow or what might happen… so I…” You swallow the nervousness down. “I want to forget, just for tonight,” 

Scaramouche’s eyes snap open, but he remains hidden in your neck. He’s vaguely aware of what you’re implying and it takes him some self-control to confirm and ask you. “…What do you mean?”

There’s a few seconds of silence before you answer, stumbling on your words a little but clearly your desire overpowers it. “I mean that…you could help me…take my mind off of things… I’m too anxious about everything right now and I just–”

Scaramouche needs no further explanation as he suddenly pushes you down on the bed and towers over you, his hands on the sides of your head. Legs trapping your body in between and under his. There’s a carnal need that flashes in his eyes and they look clouded and darker to you. 

You bravely meet his gaze, you meant what you said, and perhaps part of you just wanted more of him to be ingrained in your memory, in case something dreadful happened tomorrow. 

“…You really are impossible,” he mumbles and you smile a little at his observation. He leans down to devour your lips again, and the rest of the night is spent in exploration of each other’s bodies and feelings, as if tomorrow was never going to come. Like the two of you were infinite and timeless in each other’s passion.

Like the melding of your bodies into one would tattoo and anchor you to each other forever.

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MASTERLIST

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Vasya in royal!AU??? anyone??????