In These Hands (You Will Break)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/34411555.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game)
Relationship: Mona/Scaramouche (Genshin Impact)
Character: Mona (Genshin Impact), Scaramouche (Genshin Impact), Yoimiya
(Genshin Impact), Thoma (Genshin Impact), Il Dottore (Genshin
Impact), Kamisato Ayaka, Kamisato Ayato, Kujou Sara, Arataki Itto,
Original Genshin Impact Characters
Additional Tags: Romance, Angst, Abusive Relationships, Inazuma (Genshin Impact),
Dubious Consent, Bondage, Alcohol, Masturbation, Mean Scaramouche
(Genshin Impact), Scaramouche Being an Asshole (Genshin Impact),
POV Mona (Genshin Impact), Canon-Typical Behavior, Rough Sex,
Improper Use of Visions (Genshin Impact), Orgasm Delay/Denial,
Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Choking, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex,
Scaramouche Has an Oral Fixation, Torture, Other Additional Tags to
Be Added
Stats: Published: 2021-10-10 Updated: 2022-05-14 Chapters: 25/30 Words:
88555

In These Hands (You Will Break)

by jardinsdeminuit

Summary

“Perhaps I was less clear than I thought,” Scaramouche said softly. “I don't just want to
sleep with you. I want to own you. I want to break you down from the inside out until you're
a hollow thing, too addicted to what I give you to think about anything else.”

Mona was too shocked by his confession to produce more than a single choked word:
“Why?”

The Harbinger smirked. “Because it sounds fun.”

------

Mona arrives in Inazuma with hopes of starting a fresh life. What she finds, however, is far
from what she expected. With few friends in this new nation, a murder she didn't commit
being pinned on her and her money running dangerously low, Mona loses hope.

That is until a Harbinger steps in to help. He offers her a deal: become his pet, and he'll
fund her lifestyle. But Mona knows just how dangerous Scaramouche can be. She knows
ulterior motives lurk in his offer. Is the allure of following her ambitions worth the price of
being a Harbinger's plaything?

(Russian and Vietnamese translation links are available in the notes of Chapter 1.)
 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes

Scaramona was a pairing I never really took to when I first started playing Genshin
(perhaps because I joined at the end of 1.3, after Unreconciled Stars), but the ship has
really grown on me these past few months. Please read the tags! This story is based on
an unhealthy transactional relationship, so I've marked it as dub-con. There will also be
explicit sexual content further on, and minor spoilers for the Inazuma Archon quests
(mainly in regards to Scaramouche's true nature). Enjoy!

Note: I would like to stress that this fic contains dark themes, including murder,
blackmail, obsessive and abusive behaviour, etc, as well as sex scenes with a few dark
kinks, including consensual bondage, choking, maybe a little knifeplay in later
chapters. In short, this is a fic about an abusive relationship. I (obviously) do not
condone these topics in real life. Scaramouche is not a nice guy in canon and he is not
a nice guy in this fic, either. Tags will be constantly updated, so please read them
carefully!

Russian translation by @lina_livingston and @sammirlyd. can be found here.

Vietnamese translation by @aiichnnnn can be found here.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It couldn't be him.

Mona backed into the shadows and peered out at the figure standing by the rail at the far end of the
deck. Short indigo hair tied into a tail; small, sharp features; loose-fitting Liyue-style clothing. He
may not have looked exactly as she remembered, but the more she watched him, the more certain
she felt.

It was him. The Harbinger who'd tried to attack her back in Mondstadt.

But it couldn't be. How was it that they'd be travelling to the same destination on the same day on
the same ship, and she hadn't foreseen it? Her astrological powers usually warned her of situations
like this beforehand so that she could avoid them. It was how she'd survived so far.

But this? This was utterly unprecedented.

The figure turned his head slightly in her direction, and Mona flattened herself against the cabin
wall with a gasp. She couldn't let him see her. While she'd toned down her usual Mage outfit,
losing her hat and favourite purple leotard for a pair of trousers and tunic to fit in with the more
conservative crew of merchants she was sailing with, she knew that the Harbinger would recognise
her instantly at a glance. And judging from how their last meeting at Musk Reef had gone, Mona
wasn't exactly itching to make acquaintances once again.

“You okay there?”

A deep voice snapped Mona from her thoughts. She looked up to see a large, bearded sailor
looking down at her.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Just a little sick.”

“Yeah, the sea'll do that to you,” the sailor muttered nonchalantly before making his way onto the
deck.

Once he was out of sight, Mona glanced back at the Harbinger. He hadn't moved from his spot by
the railing. His eyes scanned the churning black waters in front of him, almost snake-like in his
stillness. A chill ran down Mona's spine.

It was time to go. She'd seen enough.

Eighteen hours. That was all the time she had to stay hidden before the ship pulled into Inazuma
and she could slip away for good.

A sigh escaped Mona's lips as she sank down onto her bunk. Eighteen hours... It shouldn't be hard.
As a paying passenger, she'd been given her own private cabin at the stern of the ship. It wasn't
much bigger than a cupboard, but it certainly beat sleeping in the hold with the rest of the crew, as
was standard on ships like this. Then, providing everything went to plan, they'd make port at Ritou
tomorrow afternoon. She didn't mind staying in her cabin until then if it meant avoiding the
Harbinger. It wasn't as if there was a rule that said she had to come out during the trip, was there?

She thought back to the sight of him standing on the deck with his back to her. Just the memory
alone was enough to make her shudder all over again. Once, she'd have thought such a thing a
coincidence. Nowadays, she knew that 'coincidence' was a word used exlusively by those who
didn't understand the concept of fate, and if there was one thing Mona knew, it was fate. She
should've seen this coming. And yet her Hydromancy had told her nothing.

It was all too odd, and Mona didn't like it one bit.

There was a singular saving grace, of course. Judging from the Harbinger's clothes and lack of
underlings around to escort him, it was safe to assume he was undercover. Mona was probably the
only one who knew who he really was. What would the captain think if she told him there was a
Harbinger on board his ship, she wondered. She pictured the man who'd threatened her and her
friends back in Mondstadt being picked up by his ankles by one of his burly crewmates and thrown
overboard like a piece of surplus cargo, all while she waved at him from the deck.

Or maybe not, she thought as she came back to reality. In her nineteen years, Mona had made more
enemies than she could count thanks to her sharp tongue and often less-than-optimistic fortune
readings. The Fatui seeking revenge for the death of one of their Harbingers were the last addition
she needed to the list.

Her hat lay on her satchel in the corner of the cabin. Mona reached over, picked it up and lay back
against the pillows, hugging it to her chest. Inazuma. Just the word itself conjured up images of
storm-shrouded peaks, ancient shrines and villages steeped in rustic tradition. Like most people
from mainland Teyvat, the sole exposure she'd had to the mysterious islands had come from
travellers' stories or books. But that was part of the fun, wasn't it? As someone who was no stranger
to wandering the wilds of Mondstadt and Liyue, Mona felt a surprising confidence about the path
that lay ahead. If her plans fell through and the worst came to the worst, she at least had experience
of living without a home or a single Mora to her name, at least for a little while.

And it wasn't as if she could turn back at this point. She'd packed up everything in Mondstadt, sold
off her house in the city and put all but her most essential astrological equipment in storage, all on
the recommendation of a travelling Inazuman merchant. Apparently, her friend in Inazuma City
was retiring and looking to sell her shop, ideally to someone who appreciated the supernatural arts.
Someone like the gifted young astrologist she'd heard had recently taken up residence in
Mondstadt.

At first, Mona had refused outright. The whole thing had 'scam' written all over it, and besides,
she'd grown to like Mondstadt over the few months she'd lived there. While not particularly
dynamic in terms of opportunities or unusual goings-on, the town was charming in its own way,
and Mona had come to enjoy living among the people there. She wasn't about to throw all that
away for a distant opportunity on the other side of Teyvat.

But the woman had insisted. The shop, she'd told her, had been in her friend's family for years, and
with no children or acquaintances with an interest in the supernatural, the woman had resolved to
find someone who'd be happy to take it over for her while she was out on her travels. When Mona
had told her she refused to make a living charging people for her Hydromancy, the woman had
insisted that the shop was nothing like that, rather a place that sold potion ingredients, alchemical
equipment and other curios. Things, she'd said with a smile, that Mona was more than welcome to
sift through and take from as she pleased.

That had certainly captured her attention a little more, and as she lay in her bed that night, listening
to the drunks clamber out of the Cat's Tail nearby as it closed its doors, she found herself
considering the offer once again. She liked Mondstadt. She really did. But the more time she spent
here, the more she realised just how little there was for her within these walls. The people didn't
seem to take an interest in anything that wasn't related to alcohol or food, and everyone was too
happily settled into their own little rut to care about such irrelevant things as Hydromancy.

Yet was it really so much of a problem that she was willing to leave it all behind for Inazuma, a
country that was notoriously guarded from the rest of the continent? She was comfortable here.
She had space for her equipment, a roof over her head and a warm bed to return to at the end of the
day – things that, just a few months before, she'd never even dreamed of owning. Shouldn't she just
feel grateful for that and try to make the best of the situation?

It was over tea the following morning with Lisa, the only member of the Knights of Favonius that
she considered a friend, that Mona made her decision. After hearing about her predicament, the
Librarian placed her cup down on the saucer and smiled at her over the table.

“It all depends on what you want out of life, my dear. We all have ambitions, no matter how great
or small. We chase the things that make us happy. For some, that's adventuring across the
continent, fighting monsters and finding treasure. For others, it's simply waking up every day and
working the market stands. Either way, one thing is certain: if you don't go after your ambitions,
then you'll live to regret it.”

A hint of sadness passed through Lisa's eyes then, so subtle that Mona couldn't even be sure it'd
been there in the first place. They finished the rest of their tea talking about an unrelated matter.

That afternoon, Mona started making arrangements to sell her house.

A lot of people thought she was rash to give up such a secure life for what was essentially a
gamble. Even now, Mona couldn't say for sure what it was that drove her. The pursuit of
knowledge, or just plain idiocy? All her readings had told her that Inazuma would bring her
answers, though to which questions, she wasn't quite sure. The stars always appeared hazy when
she tried to read them.

Her only hope was that this time, things fell in place like they were supposed to.

She must have fallen asleep, because when she next opened her eyes, Mona was draped across the
bed, one leg awkwardly hanging off the edge. She sat up and immediately clutched her stomach.

“Oh.”

A wave of nausea rolled through her body, her hands cold and clammy. There was only one
explanation for it. She'd never been on a ship long enough before to know that she was the kind
who got seasick. It felt ironic, being a Hydro user. Like the Archons were playing a trick on her.

She pushed herself off the bed and almost fell down again as her stomach knotted. It felt as if her
insides were rolling in rhythm with the ship.

She needed air. Now.

With her hand over her mouth, Mona shoved open her door and stumbled into the corridor.
Luckily, only a short ladder waited between her and the main deck. She hauled herself up, pushed
open the hatch at the top and burst into the night air.

Mona didn't bother to pay her surroundings anything more than a cursory glance. She dived for the
railing, leaned over and vomited into the water.

Her head spun. It'd been a long time since she'd felt this ill, though thankfully, she was already
starting to feel a little relief. She balanced on the railing now, sucking in deep lungfuls of air and
staring out at the horizon. She could see the islands of Inazuma in the distance, a set of black
shapes against the night sky, lit occasionally by flashes of purple lightning from the storm that
raged around then. The storm, she thought with a shiver, that they would be sailing headfirst into
within the next couple of hours.

“What a performance.”

The sudden voice was all the warning Mona got before a pair of hands clamped around her neck
from behind. She jerked upright instinctively, shook herself free and spun. Her heart leapt to see
who stood in front of her.

“You...!”

The Harbinger flashed her a smile, as deceptively innocent as the first time they'd met. “Fancy
meeting you again. Mona, was it?”

The sound of her name on his lips made Mona want to throw up all over again.

“I have to go,” she mumbled, pushing past him. To her surprise, he didn't try to stop her.

“Why so eager to run?” he asked as she marched across the deck. “Don't you think it's fascinating
that we'd run into one another here again? Almost as if fate has brought us together.”
 He said the word so deliberately that it stopped Mona in her tracks. She turned and looked at him
with narrow eyes. “What are you talking ab—”

A thought suddenly hit her, one that turned her blood to ice. “You followed me here, didn't you?”

The Harbinger barked out a short laugh. “You really think I'd waste my precious time and energy
following someone like you? You're a nobody.”

He spoke the line with such contempt that Mona had no doubt he was telling the truth – or was, in
the very least, a fantastic actor. Judging by how easily he'd mislead her group back in Mondstadt,
either could be the case.

“Why are you here, then? You're clearly undercover. I could sell you out to the captain with no
guilt whatsoever.” Mona bit her lip. The words came out far more sharply than she'd meant them
and would surely earn her some kind of backlash. The Harbinger, however, seemed more amused
than annoyed.

“Sell me out? I've done nothing wrong. Is a diplomat not allowed to travel uninterrupted in his
spare time?”

He had a point. While Mona herself had her reservations about the Fatui, the rest of the world saw
them as little more than Snezhnayan officials. No doubt her fantasy of him being thrown into the
ocean had been a little overzealous.

Still, this could work in favour for her, too. If he was keeping up neutral appearances, then he
probably wouldn't try to attack her here on the ship. Probably.

“Allow me to ask you the same question, then,” he said. “Travelling to Inazuma while the Vision
Hunt Decree is on seems a little foolhardy, even for someone like you. What could possibly be
worth that risk?”

A bubble rose in Mona's throat. The travelling merchant had warned her about the Vision Hunt
Decree, too, though she'd said that so long as she kept her Vision hidden, she'd have no reason to be
investigated. The gem lay deep in her trouser pocket right now. Mona gave it an involuntary
squeeze through the material.

“That's none of your business,” she snapped.

The Harbinger laughed again, and this time, Mona sensed an unmistakeable undertone of malice to
the sound. “Oh, really? Well, these kinds of secrets have a habit of coming out on their own. I
suppose I can let you in on mine.” He tilted his head back slightly. Rays of moonlight fell across
his pale skin, illuminating one half of his face and leaving the other in shadow. “I'm here to kill a
man. Care to help me out?”

Chapter End Notes

I have a Twitter now! @AbyssalWaltz

 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Mona's head was spinning all the way back to her cabin.

She'd left the Harbinger there on the deck, but not before he'd been able to outline his intentions to
her. No matter how much she'd tried, it'd been almost impossible to drag herself away from him, as
if her feet were frozen in place.

“K-kill a man... Someone on this ship?” she'd said.

The Harbinger had laughed. “You catch on quick.”

Mona shook her head, too horrified to feel annoyed at his sarcasm. She felt like she'd been plunged
into the midst of a bad dream. “Why would you do something like that?”

And more importantly, why would you tell me about it? she added mentally.

“The Fatui have enemies. Sometimes those enemies can be hard to keep track of, so you have to
take action against them where you can. Say, for example, on a ship crossing stormy waters where
anyone can plunge to their death if they're not careful.”

As if to prove his point, the horizon suddenly flashed purple with a fork of lightning. The clap of
thunder that followed a few seconds later made Mona jump.

Lowering his voice a little, the Harbinger said, “Would it convince you if I told you why I want
this man gone?”

“No,” Mona mumbled. She didn't want to know, didn't want anything to do with this sick plot.

“Oh.” A hint of disappointment crossed the Harbinger's face, as if he'd genuinely thought she'd say
yes. “Well, if you do change your mind, his name's Hugo. Bring him to me in secret and I'll make it
worth your while.”

That was the point Mona had finally managed to run. She'd felt the Harbinger's eyes on her back as
she'd crossed the deck to the hatch and finally disappeared into the depths of the ship.

And yet as she sat on her bunk now, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was still being watched.
Which was impossible, of course. She'd locked the door, and the floorboards outside were so
creaky that she'd be able to hear if anyone were there.

Hugo. Mona didn't recognise the name, but she imagined he was one of the merchants on board.
What he could possibly have done to enrage the Fatui enough that they'd send a Harbinger to
personally dispatch him she didn't know, and really did have no intention of finding out. Being the
accomplice to a murder wasn't exactly the way she wanted to spend her first few hours in Inazuma,
and neither was being suspected of one. Did the Harbinger really think she'd agree to his
proposition? He'd teased her for being slow. Maybe he was the one lacking intelligence, after all.

She had to tell the captain about it. She wanted to tell him. He may not believe her with no proof,
but it was better than just sitting around and letting a man lose his life beneath her nose. Yet as she
was about to push off the bunk, she found herself pausing.
Was this really the right thing to do? Not morally, of course, but practically? If the Harbinger was
arrested in Inazuma, then surely she'd be next on the line of the Fatui's enemies.

It was a selfish idea, but a sensible one, and it wasn't like she hadn't helped people before. If she
ended up dead in a gutter thanks to a Fatui grunt over one person, then how could she continue to
give back to the world with her magic? It felt like a needless sacrifice over a man she didn't even
know, a man who'd made the idiotic mistake of getting on the Fatui's bad side and now had to pay
the price for it.

Mona closed her eyes in frustration. Her Hydromancy worked best when she was under a clear,
starry sky, but there were still ways to foresee snatches of the future without it. Most of the time,
she interpreted the constellations of Vision-holders. Their fates crossed and wove around one
another, like the threads of some huge celestial tapestry, though there were cast-offs here and there,
wisps that broke free and drifted through the atmosphere. Those were what Mona could sometimes
sense without her Vision. It was how she'd sensed who the Harbinger was back in Mondstadt, right
before he'd tried to kill the Traveller and Fischl.

She pictured him in her head as he'd appeared on the dock. Predicting the future like this was
unreliable and sometimes didn't produce any results at all. It soon became apparent that this was
one of those times. No matter how much she searched, there was nothing for her to grab onto.

Mona opened her eyes and sighed. Perhaps it was for the best. The less she knew about the
situation, the less guilt she'd feel. In the end, it was none of her business.

Her stomach was starting to churn again as she lay back against the bunk. With any luck, she'd be
asleep before she felt the urge to vomit again. She'd sleep through the worst of the storm, then
wake up a couple of hours before they reached Ritou, fresh-minded and ready to start her new life.

She placed the pillow over her head, screwed her eyes shut and tried to think of anything but
murder.

She couldn't do it. She had to tell someone.

Mona wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep. An hour, perhaps. Without her watch, there was no
way of knowing, and she wasn't about to go digging through her luggage for it.

She'd dreamt of the Harbinger, that he'd been standing there in the dark at the corner of her cabin,
watching her while she slept. It'd been vivid enough to have her waking up in a panic and
reconsidering everything she'd thought before going to sleep.

How could she lie here knowing that a potentially innocent man was going to die?

Mona slipped out of bed, unlocked the door and entered the corridor. Judging from the way the
ship swayed violently beneath her, they must be on the edge of the storm now, though surprisingly,
she didn't feel as ill as before. No doubt she was getting used to being on this ship now. She walked
along the narrow passageway, but instead of heading up the ladder to the deck, continued straight
on down a short set of stairs to the hold.

Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe she'd end up causing more harm than good and put herself on
a Fatui hit list after all. But at least this way, her conscience would be clean.

She didn't bother knocking. The hold was a public area on the ship, and besides, the loud chatter on
the other side told her she probably wasn't interrupting anyone's sleep. After taking a deep breath to
steady herself, she turned the handle and pushed the door open.

The room was as wide as the ship and twice as tall as the corridor. Around twenty sailors, both
men and women, were spread out among the space, dozing under blankets at the edges or gathered
in small groups playing cards in the dim light. A couple even occupied hammocks that hung
suspended from ceiling beams, though how they managed to stay asleep with the way the ship was
rolling was a mystery.

Mona had expected every waking eye to turn in her direction, but surprisingly, most of the sailors
ignored her as she weaved her way through. She spotted a woman hunched against the wall on the
far side, reading. She looked friendly enough, so Mona headed over.

“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Hugo?”

Without raising her eyes, the woman nodded to one of the nearby groups.

Mona walked up to them slowly. The group consisted of three men in their thirties, residents of
Fontaine, if their accents and clothing were anything to go by. A bottle of spirits sat between them.
Mona was sure drinking was forbidden on merchant ships – not that she was about to run to an
officer about it.

“Hugo?” she said, a little more weakly than she'd intended.

The man closest to her looked up over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Mona's breath hitched in her throat. He looked so relaxed, so normal. Clearly, he had no idea the
Fatui had sent a Harbinger to execute him.

“Can I speak to you in private for a minute?”

Hugo looked to his friends, the cards in his hand and back again. Then he shrugged. “Sure, but
make it quick.”

After apologising to the others, Mona led Hugo back through the hold and out of the door. She'd
been aiming to talk in her cabin, but halfway along the corridor, the man pulled a tobacco case out
of his pocket and flipped it open.

“Mind if we talk on the deck? That way I can have a smoke before the storm hits.”

Mona glanced up at the ceiling. From the light pitter patter on the wood and the way the ship was
lurching, the storm had already started to close around them. Still, she followed Hugo up the
ladder.

Sure enough, the rain on her face was the first thing she noticed when she reached the deck. It
seemed laughable for someone possessing a Hydro Vision, but Mona hated the rain. Not only did it
obscure the stars, it reminded her of the long nights she'd spent sleeping in the wilds, seeking
shelter beneath trees. Even the thickest branches had never been able to keep the rain off, leaving
her wet from head to toe and shivering until morning.

Hugo, on the other hand, seemed almost cheerful as he walked to the aft of the ship. Mona swept
her eyes across the deck, but luckily, the only person she could spot was the helmsman, a small
shape up on the poop deck above them. The moment they entered the narrow walkway that curved
around the raised decks to the back end of the ship, he disappeared from sight.

Only when they'd reached the very end and were standing by the railing did Hugo stop, place his
cigarette between his lips and take out a box of matches. At his gesture, Mona placed her hands
above the end of it, keeping it dry enough for him to light it.

“So,” he said, taking a drag, “what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Mona usually had no trouble vocalising what she wanted to say, but for some reason, she couldn't
find the right words to ease Hugo into the situation. Better she just be straight with him.

“There's someone on this ship who wants to kill you. He's a Fatui Harbinger and he's disguised
himself as a passenger,” she blurted out.

To her surprise, Hugo barely reacted beyond a raise of his eyebrow. “Oh? And why would he want
to do that?”

Mona's heart sank. He didn't believe her.

Still, she pressed on. She'd come too far to not at least try and convince him. “I don't know. Can
you think of anything you might have done to get on the Fatui's bad side recently? Anything at all.”

Hugo turned his head over the side of the ship and blew out a plume of smoke. “Nothing that I can
think of.”

A sudden jolt of the ship made Mona's stomach jump. She grabbed onto the railing and gasped. Sea
water sprayed up around her, splashing against a face already soaked with the rain. Hugo seized her
shoulder to keep her upright.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a little seasick,” Mona mumbled, pulling herself back up. The islands were a lot closer than
they'd been before, lit by the storm that swirled above them. A storm they were dangerously close
to getting swallowed up by. “Are we really safe out here?”

“Yes. Take it from someone who's made this journey tens of times – this is nothing compared to
when we're in the storm. It passes quickly, though. An hour or two, never more.”

Another thing to look forward to, Mona thought bitterly.

Turning back to her, Hugo said, “So, the Fatui, hm? I'm interested to know how you found out.
You working for them, or something?”

“Of course not,” Mona hissed. “I overheard him talking before he came on the ship. I was going to
find you straight away, but I had to be sure.”

She'd been about to tell him the truth until she realised it'd make her look like she was colluding
with the Fatui even more. The last thing she wanted was for Hugo to think she was leading him
into a trap.

“Seems a little rash for a Harbinger to let his plans be overheard so easily, don't you think?” said
Hugo, no longer hiding his sarcasm. “I'd better write a letter of complaint to the Tsaritsa. Tell her
her officers are out of control.”
Mona wanted to scream with frustration.

Deciding to try a different approach, she dug into her pocket, pulled out her Vision and waved it in
Hugo's face. “Look, I'm not lying to you. There is a man on this ship who will kill you the moment
he's able to. I can protect you with my Vision. I just need you to believe me.”

For the first time since their meeting, Hugo's expression took on an air of seriousness. “I wouldn't
wave that around in Inazuma, if I were you. Don't you know about the Vision Hunt Decree?”

“Yes, I do, but we're not in Inazuma yet. You can take my cabin, if you'd like. Just stay away from
the Harbinger.”

Mona wasn't sure why she was so readily offering protection to a stranger, though she sensed it had
something to do with the desperation that gripped her. Finally, it seemed that Hugo was starting to
realise the danger he was in.

“What's your name?” he asked with a frown.

“Mona Megistus.”

Hugo opened his mouth to speak again, when the sound of slapping skin interrupted him. Someone
was clapping slowly behind Mona's back. A chill that had nothing to do with the rain trickled down
her spine.

Please, she thought, don't let it be him.

“That felt like an uphill battle, but you got there in the end,” cooed a familiar voice.

At once, Mona spun and stepped in front of Hugo. The Harbinger was walking towards them
slowly, lips turned up into the smile that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face.

They were surrounded by water. All it would take was a hint of concentration and Mona could
build a rain barrier between them, or fuse the droplets together into a blade, but she didn't want to
strike until she had to, just in case it led to retaliation. So far, she hadn't seen the Harbinger fight
once. She had no idea what his abilities were and how best to defend against them.

“Who are you?” Hugo snapped behind her.

“Just a passenger,” said the Harbinger simply.

Hugo made a noise under his breath that indicated he'd finally realised who the person in front of
him was. Before he could speak, Mona barked out, “Stay away from us.”

“Why?” asked the Harbinger. “Don't you want to hear what Hugo's done?”

If Mona hadn't been so determined not to let the Harbinger out of her sight, she would've glanced
up at the sailor at that moment. People's guilt always showed on their face far before it left their
mouth. Hugo had claimed he had no idea what he'd done to anger the Fatui, and Mona believed
him. Not that there were many things that justified execution, in her eyes.

A hand grabbed by the arm and pulled her aside.

“Now,” snapped Hugo, marching forward, “you listen to me—”

It happened in the span of a heartbeat. The knife appeared in the Harbinger's hand, and then it was
slashed across Hugo's throat, so fast Mona could feel the metal splitting the air. The sailor froze,
 then shuddered, all before the Harbinger grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and threw him
backwards over the railing.

“Barely even spoke and he still managed to piss me off,” muttered the Harbinger. He looked down
at the blade in his hand, the tip shining red, then dropped it into the water after the man, as if it
were just another piece of rubbish to be discarded.

Mona couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. She wanted to run away, but her body wouldn't let her
move.

When the Harbinger turned those dark eyes on her, she knew she was staring back at a monster.

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” he said with a snort. “You're the one who brought him here for me
in the first place, just as I asked.”

“Th-that's not what I...” Mona stammered before her lips stopped working. He'd listened to their
conversation. He knew that wasn't why she'd brought Hugo out here. And yet it had worked in his
favour all the same. She'd isolated him from his crewmates and the Harbinger had seized the
opportunity to strike. Now a man was missing and a whole room of people had seen her lead him
away.

“Why?” she finally mumbled. “What did he do?”

Instead of answering straight away, the Harbinger walked up to her and gazed into her face. They
were more or less the same height, but Mona had never felt so small before another person in all
her life.

“Why, you ask?” The Harbinger brushed a strand of soaking hair off Mona's face.

Don't touch me, she wanted to scream, but of course, she couldn't move.

“I just told you why. He annoyed me. Back in Liyue, he shouldered me out of the way as we were
boarding the ship. He must have noticed, but he didn't seem to care.”

Mona couldn't believe what she was hearing. “You murdered a man because he accidentally
pushed you?”

The Harbinger nodded. “Precisely.”

A bolt of lightning lit up the sky, followed half a second later by a clap of thunder, so loud it felt
like the sky would break in two. The Harbinger glanced up and smiled. Water trickled down his
chin.

“Looks like it's time to go inside,” he said. “The storm's here at last.”

Chapter End Notes

Chapter 2 is done! I wrote these two as a mini prologue, since they both take place on
the ship to Inazuma. Don't worry, though. The events that happened here MIGHT
come back to bite the two of them in the arse later on :')

I love seeing Scaramona art where the two of them have a friendly rivalry, but the
Scaramouche in this story is not a very nice person. One of the strongest talents of the
Genshin writers is creating villain-ish characters who are morally grey and have a
backstory you can sympathise with - Signora, Childe, Raiden Shogun, even the Abyss
Order. Scaramouche does have his reasons for acting like a complete bastard in canon,
but I also love that he's driven primarily by the concept of "Fuck you I do what I
want." We stan villain Scaramouche in this house

Thanks for reading, and see you next update!

 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes

Not me running around Ritou in-game to figure out the details of this chapter :')

The rest of the voyage passed without incident, and just as promised, they were pulling into Ritou
the following afternoon.

Mona almost cried with relief when she heard the clambour of feet on the wooden roof of her cabin
and the muffled shouts of the crew that land was ahead. She hadn't left her cabin all night, hadn't
even slept, just lay in bed listening to the storm batter the ship and replaying Hugo's death in her
mind over and over.

Any moment now, she'd thought, any moment now, someone will knock on that door and demand to
know where their crewmate is. The more she considered it, the more she realised just how well the
Harbinger had played her. Had he known from the beginning that she would try and warn Hugo of
what was coming to him, or was it pure coincidence that she'd ended up pinning herself as the most
obvious suspect for his disappearance in the eyes of the crew, thereby deflecting the blame from
the Harbinger?

But of course, Mona reminded herself, there was no such thing as coincidence.

Once again, she felt like she was being toyed with by fate itself.

She waited a little before heading out onto the deck, then kept her head low as she crossed the
plank from the ship to the long wooden jetty, satchel hanging off her shoulder. The Harbinger
didn't seem to be about, and the crew were already busy unloading their cargo from the hold. Mona
prayed to the Archons that they'd be too busy to notice her pass them by.

Ignore them, she thought. Just keep walking.

She'd almost made it to the shore when a voice called out behind her: “Hey, wait a minute.”

Mona's chest tightened so violently, she feared she'd pass out on the spot, but she managed to
remain at least semi-composed as she turned around. “Yes?”

The man walking towards her was one of the Fontanians who'd been drinking with Hugo the night
before. A hint of panic underlined his tone as he asked, “Have you seen Hugo anywhere? He didn't
come back after he went with you.”

If there was one talent Mona could hold to her name, it was that she was a good actor when she
wanted to be.

“Really?” she said, feigning the best shock she could. “I left him alone on the deck last night. He
said he wanted to finish his cigarette.”

The man stared at her for a few seconds as if trying to work out whether she was telling the truth or
not. Then he sighed and rubbed his temples. From the look of the bags beneath his eyes, he'd
gotten as much sleep as her. “Okay, fine. Thanks. You'll tell me if you remember anything else,
won't you?”

“I will,” said Mona.

Little did he know that she was planning to leave for the city as soon as possible.

She left him there and headed to the end of the jetty, where an inpector stood behind a counter
inside a wooden booth. Her sharp eyes found Mona at once. There was no way she could slip
around.

“I need your Entry Permit,” she said as Mona approached.

Luckily, Mona had already been handed the document when she'd boarded the ship. She took it out
of her pocket and gave it to the inspector, who looked it over.

“Mona Megistus from Mondstadt?”

“That's right.”

“Your reason for travel is blank.” She held it up for Mona to see and tapped the empty line. “Are
you a merchant?”

Mona paused. “I didn't want to make a mistake. I'm moving to Inazuma City.”

“Migration, then,” snapped the inspector. She scribbled it onto the form, tore off a strip of paper
from the bottom of the page and handed it over. “Please take this to the Outlander Affairs Agency,
Ms Megistus. Make sure you have all your other papers in order for a swift inspection.”

After thanking her, Mona left the jetty and hurried up a set of stone steps that could only be the
entrance to the town. She always hated official matters like this. Even for the most well-prepared
person, there were a thousand ways they could go wrong. Hopefully, her stop-off at the Outlander
Affairs Agency would be a short one, and then she'd be on her way to the city.

The steps felt endless, but Mona didn't particularly mind. It felt good to stretch her legs on dry land
after having been confined to her cabin for so long. Fire-red leaves from the maple trees that lined
the path lay scattered across the stone. Their earthy scent mixed with the lingering heat in the air,
so different to the cool, fresh breeze of Mondstadt that she was used to.

The merchant woman had told her that Ritou was a tiny town that existed purely as a waypoint to
process outlanders entering the country. Sure enough, as she reached the top of the steps and
looked around the small square, Mona could see a number of foreign nationals making their way
about, with the only Inazumans being the stony-faced guards who stood outside buildings, fierce-
looking polearms by their sides.

Something about that bothered her. Surely most outlanders didn't come all the way to Inazuma just
to visit Ritou? Unless, of course, they were merchants staying here for work purposes, but she had
a feeling that wasn't the case. She could hear children playing nearby, and several of the buildings
around her looked like they housed at least semi-permanent residents.

Mona spotted a lone man smoking against a nearby wall and approached him. “Excuse me, do you
know where I can find the Outlander Affairs Agency?”

The man pointed to a tall building a couple of streets behind him. “You new here?”

“Just arrived.”
He snorted bitterly. “Good luck.”

Mona tried not to dwell too much on his answer as she headed towards the building. It was hard not
to feel bitter at her situation. Here she was in a foreign country, about to start a new life, and
already she'd run into more trouble than she could handle. She should be happy right now. And
yet, as she traversed the streets, she felt a deep paranoia boiling within her, as if half-expecting the
guards to turn on her and take her in for questioning at any moment.

Once she'd arrived at the gates of the Agency, Mona headed straight to the front desk, where a
portly man stood. Just like the border inspector and the guards, he had a harsh look in his eyes.
Mona was starting to wonder whether it was a criteria by which officials were picked for their jobs
here in Inazuma.

“Is this Outlander Affairs Agency?” Mona asked as she walked up to him. She already knew the
answer. She just wasn't sure how to break the ice.

“Yes,” said the man sharply. “Name?”

Mona told him and handed him the slip the inspector had given her. He took a moment to read it.
“Hm.”

Mona's heart leapt. “Is there a problem?”

The man didn't remove his eyes from the paper, leaving her in silence for a few tense seconds.
Finally, he looked at her. “Migration, huh? Do you have proof of address?”

“Yes.” After digging around in her satchel, Mona brought out the document the merchant had
given her back in Mondstadt and placed it in front of the man. He looked it over sceptically.

“'Ms Riko Nakamura',” he read. “According to this, you're going to be taking over her shop. Is that
correct?”

“It is,” said Mona. She'd already read the document from start to finish more times than she could
count. The merchant had told her it'd be sufficient to pass the border controls, so long as she had an
Entry Permit to accompany it.

With a sigh, the man took a pen from the side of the counter and wrote something at the bottom of
the page. “You'll be needing a Residence Permit. The application should take eight to ten weeks to
process. In the meantime—”

“Wait.” Mona's eyes widened. “That long?”

“Of course,” said the man as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I'll also need handling
fee of fifty thousand Mora from you.”

Mona felt like her knees were about to buckle beneath her. Fifty thousand Mora... She wasn't even
carrying close to that amount on her.

“There has to be a mistake,” she insisted, placing her hands on the counter. “I've come to Inazuma
to live here. The woman I'm taking over from is expecting me.”

The man raised an eyebrow as he handed the document back to her. “As I said, your application
needs time to be processed. We'll place it in the queue as soon as we receive your fee.”

“But that's ridiculous!” Mona blurted out so loudly it turned several of the guards' heads nearby.
Not that she particularly cared. “Nobody told me about any of this before I left. I don't even have
that kind of money.”

The man glared at her, then said, in a tone that suggested this was the final comment he would
make on the matter, “It's not the Agency's fault that you didn't do your research before coming
over. Now, if there's nothing else I can help you with, then I wish you a pleasant day.”

Mona could feel her cheeks burning. She wanted to stay and argue her case more, but she sensed
that would only earn her a forceful removal by the guards. Besides, the man had already started to
peruse the other papers on the counter. To him, the matter was closed.

As the first tears of anger threatened to rise in her eyes, Mona shoved the document back into her
satchel. She was about to turn away when a figure sidled up next to her.

“She's with me.”

Mona almost screamed.

Now that they were no longer on the boat, the Harbinger had changed back into the clothing she
remembered him wearing back in Mondstadt: the black shirt with flowing sleeves, the sandals, and
that huge, hooked hat with its translucent veil. She had no idea how he'd managed to sneak up on
her yet again.

The man looked him up and down. “And you are?”

“Call me the Balladeer,” said the Harbinger in that sickly-sweet tone he'd used just before
murdering Hugo.

“The Balladeer...?” At once, the man straightened his back, as if he'd just realised who he was
talking to. “My apologies, Sir. I wasn't informed that we would be receiving a Harbinger today.”

“No matter. We all make mistakes now and then, don't we? Just like my guest here forgot she falls
under the diplomatic immunity afforded to the Fatui in Inazuma.”

He glanced at Mona for the first time, prompting her to swallow. “Y-yes, that's right. I wasn't sure
how it worked.”

She had no idea why the Harbinger was doing this for her, just that she had to play along.

“Oh, there's no problem there,” said the man with a wave of the hand. “Mr Balladeer, I'm going to
need your Entry Permit, if that's okay with you.”

“Naturally,” said the Harbinger, handing over a flat leather pouch.

It made sense for the man to speak more politely to a diplomat, but Mona felt like she was facing a
completely different person altogether. He opened up the pouch with careful fingers and pulled out
a folded document.

“Well, this all seems to be in order. Although, Mr Balladeer, I have to ask, not that I'd ever doubt
the judgement of a Harbinger...” He gestured to Mona. “Is this woman really one of the Fatui?”

It could've been her imagination, but Mona sensed the air suddenly turn cool. She glanced at the
Harbinger. His eyes were still on the man, unwavering.

“She's my guest. I just told you that.” Although his tone remained light, there was an unmistakeable
danger to it, like a riptide churning beneath a calm ocean surface.

The man shook his head, visibly unsettled, even if he couldn't put a finger on exactly why. “O-of
course, Mr Balladeer. My apologies for asking.”

Slowly, the Harbinger reached into his pocket, brought out a pouch of Mora and placed it on the
counter. “This should more than cover the handling fee. I trust the excess can ensure a Residence
Permit is created swiftly for my friend here.”

“We'll make it our top priority.” After scribbling something down, the man held out a pair of
pages. “Here are your Travel Permits. If you'd just like to take them to my colleague at the back of
the Agency, you'll be allowed to—”

The Harbinger snatched them from his hand before he'd even finished speaking, grabbed Mona by
the wrist and pulled her towards the back of the grounds.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “I can walk myself.”

The look the Harbinger shot her over his shoulder quieted her protests.

Only when they were beyond the gates and out of earshot of the guards did the Harbinger finally
relax his grip. Mona tore her hand away and took a step back, glaring at him.

“So, that's it,” she snapped. “I'm through the border? Nothing to worry about?”

The Harbinger looked at her like she'd just asked the colour of the sky. “Didn't you hear anything
that was just said? You're free to move around Inazuma as you please.”

Mona had heard the conversation very well. Everything had just happened so quickly, she still
couldn't believe it.

They stood at the top of a path that led down to a long beach. Beyond that rose green hills, dusty
purple rocks and, in the very distance, a set of sharp mountains. The whole scene looked like it'd
been pulled from a storybook; and yet Mona felt like she was looking at it all from behind a wall of
glass.

“Why help me?” she asked.

The Harbinger shrugged. “You helped me out on the ship. I told you I'd make it worth your while.
Consider this my payback.”

The casual reminder made bile rise in Mona's throat. She scoffed and looked at the mountains
again, if only to avoid meeting the Harbinger's gaze. “I didn't need any kind of payback. And I'm
not your 'guest', either.”

“No?” The Harbinger took a sudden step forward, forcing Mona to dart back in surprise. He
smiled, no doubt enjoying the sight of her jumping about like a scared little deer, much to Mona's
disgust. “The Agency is notoriously harsh towards outlanders who don't have Inazuman
connections. Half the people in that town have been stuck there for months. Families, merchants,
travellers, the lot.”

Mona remembered the children she'd heard while climbing the steps and the attitude of the man
she'd asked for directions.

“Not to mention your Vision would have been confiscated the moment you tried to step outside of
Ritou on your own. I'm surprised you weren't searched on the way in.”

Mona pursed her lips. The man in front of her may be a murderer, but he had a point. Without his
help, she'd be on a ship back to Mondstadt within days, providing the authorities didn't find out
about her Vision or the crew didn't investigate her for Hugo's murder first. Staying in Ritou was
not an option.

“Thank you for your help,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

A laugh escaped the Harbinger's lips. “Don't mention it. We're even now. Who knows? Our paths
might cross again in the future.”

“I don't think so.” Mona marched up to the Harbinger and leaned as closely as she dared. “You say
we're even, right? Then stay away from me. I don't want to see you ever again.”

It felt reckless saying those words to someone she'd watch slice a man open just the day before, but
the Harbinger's smile didn't falter.

“Duly noted,” he said.

Her point made, Mona spun and started to walk down the path, eager to put as much distance
between the two of them as possible. She'd barely made it ten paces before a voice called out
behind her, “Aren't you forgetting something?”

She turned to see the Harbinger waving her Travel Permit in front of him. Mona stormed back,
snatched it from his hand and left without another word.
 Chapter 4

If Ritou had left Mona feeling bitter, then Inazuma City more than made up for it.

She'd had her eyes on the city ever since passing the mountains. The boxy shape of the building
she'd since been told was the Tenshukaku cast an impressive silhouette against the sky, guiding her
footsteps like the stars guiding the travellers of old. Walking for hours at a time was nothing new
to Mona, and as she meandered her way through the hills and winding paths that made up Inazuma,
she found her paranoia melt away and the beauty of the land unfurl before her.

That night, she found rest in a little village called Konda. The innkeeper was more than happy to
give her a free meal in exchange for stories about her travels through the mainland (which Mona
insisted weren't that interesting, but the woman seemed to love all the same). She slept on a bed roll
she'd heard called a 'futon', then woke up just before sunrise to carry on her journey, surprisingly
refreshed despite the few hours of sleep she'd had.

She reached the first houses on the outskirts of the city early in the afternoon, almost twenty-four
hours exactly since the ship had made port in Ritou. The city towered above her, a labyrinth of
dark wooden roofs and grey stone paths broken up by bursts of pastel pink sakura trees. Like Ritou,
it had been into the side of a gentle slope. At the top of it all, like a crown, sat the Tenshukaku, as
magnificent as it was foreboding even in the brilliant midday light.

Mona noticed a few sets of eyes follow her as she made her way up the path, though none lingered
for more than a couple of seconds. Unlike Mondstadt and Liyue, where people of all nationalities
rubbed shoulders like old friends, the people of this city appeared to all be of Inazuman descent –
or, at least here on the outskirts. The innkeeper had told her that there were a handful of outlanders
living inside the city, but even then, their numbers were few and far between thanks to the Sakoku
Degree's stranglehold on the nation.

Not that any of that bothered Mona. She'd come to Inazuma for something new, and while making
friends wasn't exactly something she had a natural aptitude at, the idea of assimilating into a new
culture filled her with excitement. Already, she'd spotted a number of curiosities: open-fronted
shops with low-hanging signs; tiny shrines stacked with offerings and wafting out incense; food
stalls selling dishes she'd never even heard of, but smelt delicious all the same. Mona hadn't felt
such a sense of wonder since she'd first stepped into Liyue Harbour all those years ago. The
thoughts of Harbingers and murdered sailors couldn't have been further from her mind.

She came to a stop in front of a blacksmith's, pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and unfolded it.
Miyamura Alley. Too bad she had no idea where that was.

Luckily, the blacksmith was all too happy to give her directions, and within a couple of minutes,
Mona was standing at the mouth of a narrow back street leading off the main path. She followed it
until she spotted a hanging sign that read Nakamura's Oddities. Her heart leapt, and she ran the last
few steps up to it. Then she frowned.

The merchant woman had described the shop as 'a little dilapidated'. And yet the building that
stood in front of Mona looked like it hadn't been used in decades. The windows had been boarded
up, the paint on the sign was peeling, and the door looked like it would fold like a playing card if
kicked hard enough.

“What in the name of Barbatos...” Mona looked down at the address scribbled on the paper and up
again, as if it there were any doubt that she'd arrived at the right place.
Perhaps it'd be different on the inside. After all, Mona knew more than anyone the importance of
not judging a book by its cover. She only prayed that the same could be said of buildings.

Slowly, she reached for the handle, when something flashed through her mind. A hint of foresight.

Someone was inside the building.

Mona let go of the handle like it was made of hot metal. Her heart was racing, though she wasn't
sure why. Foresight like this often came at random, not just when she was in danger. It could've
been anyone in the shop, even the owner Nakamura Riko herself. Still, one face came to Mona's
mind.

Tendrils of water materialised around Mona's wrists like thin, shimmering snakes. If the Harbinger
had travelled through the night to catch her off guard, then this time, she'd be ready for him. No
surprises. No being pushed into a corner.

With her hands hovering in front of her chest, Mona pushed on the door with the tip of her shoe.
Sure enough, it swung open easily. The room beyond was so dark, it took her eyes a moment to
adjust as she stepped in. She looked around for any sign of life, a rustling that might indicate a
figure ready to grab her from the shadows.

Something to her left suddenly burst into light. Mona spun to see a flame hovering in the darkness,
just a foot away from her face.

“Lose the magic,” said a woman's voice she'd never heard before.

Mona was so shocked she almost did as she was told on the spot, but instead, she narrowed her eyes
and snapped, “After you.”

For a moment, neither of them moved, each daring the other to be the first to lower their defences.
Then the woman gave a short laugh and angled down what Mona now realised was a bow notched
with a burning arrow. She spread her fingers and allowed the water circling her hands to dissipate
into the air. She could always summon it again in a second if needed.

“So, a Vision holder, huh?” said the woman. Although her face and most of her figure were hidden
in the darkness outside the circle of light cast by her flame, she seemed to be around Mona's height
and stature.

“Are you going to report me?”

“Of course not.”

The woman let the bow drop to her side, and at the same time, the burning arrow was snuffed out,
confirming what Mona had thought all along. A Pyro user.

“But I will advise you to be careful who you use your powers in front of. Some people are all too
eager to report you to the authorities the first moment they can.”

She had a point, Mona thought. Using her Vision with the active decree had been a rare slip of
insight for her. “I thought you were someone else, is all.”

The woman laughed again. It was a light, melodic sound that lifted Mona's spirit despite the fact
she was still a stranger. “We Vision holders have a responsibility to look out for each other, right?
Come on, let's go outside so we can talk properly.”
She led Mona out of the door and into the alley, allowing Mona to get her first proper look at her.
Orange and white clothes, blonde hair tied into a messy ponytail, and a glint in her amber eyes that
made her seem like she was smiling despite the neutral turn of her lips. The bow she'd been been
holding had been hooked onto a strap behind her back along with a quiver of arrows.

“What were you doing in there?” Mona asked. “I thought this was supposed to be Nakamura's
Oddities."

The woman placed her hands on her hips and looked back at the shop. “It is. Or, I mean, it was.
The owner upped and left about a year ago. I've been using it as a storehouse ever since, since
nobody else has been using it.” She turned back. “Why, were you looking to buy something?”

“No, I'm taking it over.”

“You're kidding!”

Mona half-wished she was. First the trouble with the Outlander Affairs Agency, and now this.
She'd had her suspicions, but now it dawned on her just how much of an idiot she'd been taken by
the merchant woman. Clearly, she'd just been looking for someone to dump her friend's crumbling
business on, and Mona, blinded by the promise of adventure and her own ambitions, had taken the
bait.

“Are you okay?” asked the woman, staring at her.

“I'm fine,” said Mona, though even to her own ears, her voice sounded shaky. Not for the first time,
she felt anger boil in her blood, not just towards the merchant woman, but towards herself for being
stupid enough to buy into this whole pipe dream and not foreseeing that it would fail before it'd
even started.

“Hey.” The woman placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Whatever mess you think you're in,
I'm sure it can be sorted out. How about you tell me all about it over dinner tonight? There's a place
in the centre of the city I'm sure you'll love, and besides, I kind of owe you after almost shooting
you with a fire arrow.”

Mona glanced at the shop, then back at the woman. She seemed harmless enough, and genuine
about the offer.

She sighed. “Thanks. That'd be nice.”

Free food was free food, after all.

Mona left the restaurant a whole lot drunker than she'd intended.

She'd parted ways with the woman on the market street, insistent that she could make her way back
on her own. Now, as she tottered along the stones, she wasn't so sure. The city felt like a maze, full
of winding paths and dark alleys that led to dead ends. If it weren't for the fact it was built on a
slope, Mona wasn't even sure she'd be heading in the right direction.

She'd met the woman, whose name she'd learnt was Naganohara Yoimiya, at the restaurant just
after dark. As they'd sat under the hanging sign, warmed by the glow of the lamps and the heat of
the kitchen in front of them, Yoimiya had told her all about the fireworks business her family
owned before switching the subject to her shop.

“It's not all that bad, you know,” she said, leaning an elbow on the counter and placing her chin on
her hand so that she could look at Mona. “At least you don't have to try and adapt to someone else's
style. You'll be your own boss, so you can build the place up from the bottom how you like it.
Make it your own, you know?”

“I guess,” said Mona. While she was a little glum from the surprise earlier, being out here in the
heart of the city was doing wonders for her mood, which only lifted more when the chef placed a
bowl of soupy noodles in front of her.

“Ah, now this is an Inazuman classic.” Yoimiya lifted her chopsticks, dug them into her own bowl
and pulled out a string of noodles. “You haven't tasted our food until you've tasted tonkotsu
ramen.”

Mona picked up her own chopsticks and looked down into the bowl before her. The innkeeper had
taught her how to use the implements the night before, and she'd taken to them surprisingly well.
However, the noodles proved to be a problem, slipping between the sticks when she tried to pick
them up, so she decided to tackle them afterwards and went for a piece of pork instead. The ratio of
white meat to fat was so perfect, it practically melted on her tongue.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Yoimiya.

“It's delicious,” said Mona, and she meant it.

Yoimiya beamed. “It's not every day I get to treat someone, and an outlander at that. So, tell me,
Mona Megistus. Being an astrologist must make for an exciting life.”

Mona smiled smugly. “It does. I travel a lot, and people know my name all over Teyvat. I guess
that's why I was scouted to come here and take over a business...”

The sentence trailed off. Normally, she leapt at the opportunity to brag about her abilities in front
of others, but the boast felt strangely empty given the events of the day. She sighed into her ramen.

“Hey, cheer up,” said Yoimiya, shooting her that infectious smile once again. “Sometimes you
have to fall down to see the stars above. You haven't even been in the city for a day, and already
you're letting yourself get pessimistic. Take this as a new start!”

It was odd how perfectly her words echoed every pep talk Mona had given herself over the past
few days.

After swallowing down another batch of noodles, Yoimiya tapped her chopsticks on the side of her
bowl and said excitedly, “Tell you what. First thing tomorrow, I'll call on an old friend to help us
start moving the boxes from the shop. He owes me a favour, anyway.” Her eyes widened as if
she'd just remembered something. “Funnily enough, he's a Mondstadter, too! I imagine the pair of
you will have a bunch of things to talk about.”

She leaned over the counter suddenly and ordered a carafe of something called 'sake' from the chef.

“What's that?” asked Mona.

A hint of shock passed across Yoimiya's face, though it quickly transformed into a grin. “Oh, of
course. You have beer in Mondstadt, don't you?”
“That or wine.” Mona remembered the drunks piling out of the Cat's Tail every night and
grimaced. She'd never been a big drinker herself. In her opinion, alcohol clouded the mind and left
one feeling worse than it was worth.

Then again, as the chef placed a black ceramic carafe and two matching cups in front of them, she
felt her inhibitions melt away. This was a night for celebration, wasn't it? Surely taking up
Yoimiya's offer wouldn't hurt.

Once the alcohol had been poured and the two women were sat face to face on their stools,
Yoimiya smiled and raised her cup. “We're going to need a toast.”

Mona thought for a moment. “To lasting friendships?”

“And a happy future.”

“And fireworks. Lots of fireworks,” said Mona, remembering the business she'd been told about.

Yoimiya grinned. “Sounds good to me!”

They smashed their cups together.

Mona remembered feeling tipsy very soon after that. The alcohol had raced through her veins,
warming her head and filling her with a strange sense of optimism that was only just starting to
wear off as she picked her way through the streets.

She almost cried out with relief when she found the blacksmith's. From there, it was only a couple
of minutes until she was standing in front of Nakamura's Oddities. She'd found a small living space
on the second floor this afternoon, complete with rickety furniture and a dusty old futon that Mona
had beaten outside the window like an old woman with a rug. The whole room would have to be
deep cleaned properly in the future, but for now, it was good enough to sleep in.

Instead of heading inside straight away, Mona looked up at the sky. It was a clear, cloudless night
– the perfect conditions for hydromancy.

She took in a deep, calming breath, then traced out the shape of a circle in the air in front of her.
Yoimiya's constellation shimmered into existence. She gazed at the stars spread out for her, smiling
at the way they connected to form the shape of a goldfish.

A Carassius Auratus. How fitting.

It always amused Mona how well people suited their constellations. Such was the web of fate and
its way of binding Vision holders to their ambitions. In Yoimiya's case, Mona saw kindness and a
childlike innocence; a determination to make her family's name proud balanced with a genuine
love for life.

She still doesn't know why she, of all people, received her Vision...

Mona flipped the constellation around so that she could better study what was there.

...and yet she vows to use it to protect those she loves.

A smile lifted the corners of Mona's lips. How typical of a Pyro user.

After a little more observation, Mona dissipated the constellation with a flick of a wrist and turned
her mind to the Harbinger. Back on the ship, she'd struggled to manifest anything about him. Now,
she found she had the same problem, only this time, she noticed something strange. Where she'd
originally thought that the Harbinger occupied an empty void, like the space between two stars,
and that was why she couldn't find anything regarding his fate, she now realised it felt more like a
wall, as if she were being physically blocked from finding him.

She frowned. That's odd.

Still, she tried not to linger on it. She was far from the right state of mind to dabble in astrology,
and if she carried on like this, it'd only end in frustration.

As she pulled out the key Yoimiya had given her and slotted it into the lock of the door, she
thought back to the toast they'd shared at the restaurant: To lasting friendships, a happy future, and
lots and lots of fireworks.

Mona hoped it came true, especially the last part. She'd never seen a firework before.

Perhaps she could stick one up the Harbinger's arse if he returned.

 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

Please check the updated tags before reading! This is a smut story at its core and I
really didn't mean to add so much p l o t, but I promise it'll be worth it in the end :')
Just hang in there. I'm having way too much fun with this story

To Mona's surprise, she woke up the following morning feeling fresher than she had in a long time.

She'd been expecting some kind of sickness following her night of drinking, or at the very least, a
headache. And yet as the first rays of morning light shone into her room, she realised that
somehow, she'd managed to evade the symptoms altogether. It felt like a sign that today was going
to be a good day.

After walking to the market street and buying some fruits and pastries to take her through the day,
Mona started to work on the shop. Yoimiya had told her she was going to get her friend Thoma to
help out, but it didn't hurt to make a headstart. The main room was filled with boxes belonging to
Nahanohara Fireworks. The few she opened contained stacks of paper cutouts, bottles of dyes and
sacks of strong-smelling black sand that she quickly realised was gunpowder. There was so much
gunpowder, in fact, that she felt a little sick when she remembered Yoimiya striking a flame in here
yesterday, though she supposed it was far easier to control fire when you had a Vision to do it with.

Deciding to leave the boxes for later, Mona turned her attention to the counter on the right side of
the shop. Just like the room above her, it was a little dusty, and the display cases underneath and
behind looked like they hadn't been washed in years, but it was nothing that a deep clean couldn't
fix. She also had another look at the staircase leading down the door she'd found hidden behind the
wall of boxes yesterday. It had to be a basement of some kind, in which case, it'd be perfect for
storage, only there was one problem: the door was locked, and no matter where Mona looked, she
couldn't find the key for it. She made a mental note to ask Yoimiya if she had it later.

At midday, someone knocked on the door, snapping Mona's attention from the safe box of receipts
she was halfway through sorting out. She opened it to see a tall blond man standing before her. It
took a moment for it all to click in her head.

“Thoma?” she blurted out.

The man grinned. “You must be Mona Megistus, the famous astrologer.”

Mona took the opportunity to give him a smug smile. “You've found me, yes.”

He pointed over his shoulder. “Yoimiya's just gone to sort out something at her shop, but she'll be
along soon. Should we get started?”

Mona moved aside so that he could come in, and together, they started to pick through the boxes.

“Here, take this one. It's lighter,” said Thoma, handing her one which felt like it was filled with
paper while picking up a much larger one himself. As they made their way through the alley
towards Naganohara Fireworks, he turned to her and asked, “So, Yoimiya told me all about you.
Can you tell my fortune?”

Mona snorted. “I can later, if you want. Not everybody likes what they hear, though.”

“Sounds ominous. I'd best leave it, then,” he said with a laugh. “I was thinking of something more
casual, like reading my mind or telling me if I'm going to have good luck in the future.”

He seemed so earnest about it all that Mona didn't have the heart to tell him that wasn't exactly how
astrology worked. Although there was one thing she'd noticed the moment he'd walked into the
shop.

“You have a Pyro Vision in your back pocket,” she said simply.

Thoma twisted around and looked down to check that it wasn't sticking out, almost spinning
completely in the process. The action reminded Mona of a dog chasing its tail.

“That's amazing!” he said, looking back at her with wide eyes. Then he looked around and added,
in a low voice, “But not something to shout about, of course.”

“I understand,” said Mona. “We have a duty to look out for one another, right?” She remembered
Yoimiya telling her something similar the day before.

“Right,” said Thoma with a smile.

They met Yoimiya outside the fireworks shop. She broke away briefly from the group of customers
she was talking with to direct the pair of them around the back to the warehouse: “Just dump them
in. They need a proper sorting out, anyway.”

It took them most of the afternoon to clear the shop of boxes. Carrying them back and forth across
the lower level of the city was tiring work, but luckily, Thoma and Yoimiya's chatter kept it from
being boring. According to Thoma, he worked for the Yashiro Commission under the care of its
leaders, Kamisato Ayaka (“A strong, kind-hearted woman – you should definitely meet her one
day!”) and Ayato (“One of my oldest friends, though he's out on official business so much, you
probably won't see him for a while.”), and was always making trips back and forth to the city, so
would be around to help if Mona ever needed it.

“Believe me, nobody knows how hard it can be to settle in as an outsider better than me,” he said,
leaning up against a wall during a break, “but it's all worth it in the end. The people here are so
welcoming. This is a lovely nation to live in.”

Mona looked at the street bustling with people, smelt the distant sizzle of food and the sakura on
the air, and smiled. She was starting to believe it herself.

Once all the boxes had been cleared out, Mona showed Thoma and Yoimiya the basement door.
Neither of them had a key, so Thoma resolved to borrowing a crowbar from the fireworks shop and
prying open the door like that. It eventaully gave, revealing what was, indeed, a musty basement
that smelt of rot and age. However, when Mona saw the open chests standing against the back
wall, her eyes widened.

“It can't be...”

She rushed past the other two and knelt down in front of one of the chests. It was filled with
astrological equipment – dials and astrolabes and charts and everything in between. She picked up
a bronze astrolabe and examined it as best as she could in the low light. One of the hands was
missing and the other a little bent, but apart from that, there was nothing wrong with it.
Looks like that scam artist merchant wasn't a complete liar, after all, she thought to herself.

When the three of them had dinner that night at the ramen restaurant, Mona was still buzzing about
her discovery. The feeling lasted all through the night, and the next morning, she woke up early to
go down to the basement and sort everything out. She soon discovered that she may have been a
little overzealous in her excitement: the majority of the items were either broken beyond repair or
things that had more to do with potion making than astronomy, like bags of dried herbs or glass
bottles, many of them smashed at the bottom of the boxes. Still, the astrolabe itself was a fantastic
find, as were the charts. The rest she could salvage and sell in the shop.

That afternoon, she headed to the post office and sent out two letters. The first was to The
Steambird in Fontaine to inform them of her change of address. The second was to Lisa in the
Knights of Favonius. She'd told Mona to keep her updated on her travels, so she wrote about the
beauty of Inazuma and the friends she'd made in Yoimiya and Thoma. It felt strange glossing
around the Harbinger and the murder on the ship, like she was somehow lying to Lisa, though she
knew she'd only worry, so she kept it out. Besides, all that was behind Mona now. There was no
use bringing it back up for the sake of a letter.

She arrived back at the shop to find an envelope left on her doorstep. Opening it up revealed an
official document with the words 'Residence Permit' written across the top.

Mona hugged it to her chest, closed her eyes and smiled.

Before she knew it, a week had passed, and the time for the shop's opening arrived. Despite
Yoimiya's encouragement (“You should have a grand opening party! Make yourself known!”),
Mona had decided not to make a big deal of it. She'd thought that the satisfaction of seeing the little
shop she'd spent the last several days cleaning and setting up was enough for her. Now, as the
seconds ticked down to the moment she opened her doors, she wondered whether she'd made a
mistake.

“You'll be fine,” said Yoimiya, standing beside her on the street outside the alley. “Besides, I've
already spread the word. A lot of people are talking about your shop.”

“Really?” Mona smiled at her gratefully. “And here I was worrying that people in Inazuma didn't
care for astrology that much.”

“Are you kidding? You've got a niche! Nobody else is selling what you are. Just like Naganohara
Fireworks. We're the only firework makers in Inazuma, so we're more or less guaranteed to stay in
business.”

She had a point, Mona thought. She only hoped that the people of Inazuma liked dried lizard tails
as much as they did fireworks.

Five minutes before she was due to open, Thoma came running down the road towards them. He
was holding a large, flat box in his hands.

“I thought you were staying at the Kamisato Estate today,” said Mona as he came to a stop in front
of her.

“I was going to, but I couldn't exactly miss your grand opening, could I?” Thoma's cheeks were
flushed red from his run. He held out the box for Mona with a little bow of his head. “Here. This is
for you.”

Mona took it from him uncertainly and opened it up. Inside was a square metal sign with gold stars
etched into it, along with two words in swirling script: Mona's Oddities.

“Thoma, this is...” Mona was so shocked, she couldn't find the ending for that sentence.

“I thought it would help people find the shop, since you're all tucked away in that alley.” Thoma's
eyes flew wide, as if he'd just realised something. “You don't mind the name, do you? I wasn't sure
if you'd picked one already. I can always get the blacksmith to make a new one if—”

He was cut off as Mona threw her arms around his chest and hugged him.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Both of you.”

She followed it up with a hug for Yoimiya, who laughed and patted her on the back. “Don't
mention it. You're our friend now, and we're here for you. Pay us back when you've got a
monopoly on the astrological industry across Teyvat, hm?”

Mona smiled into her shoulder. “Let's just see if I can make it through the first day before that.”

Mona stared at the figure disappearing through the door and sighed. With the customer gone, the
shop was silent again.

It was late afternoon already, and Mona had counted eleven customers. Most of them hadn't even
bought anything, content to simply walk around, stare into the cabinets and leave again. Still, she
was trying not to let it dampen her mood. This morning, she'd sold a fox skull to an old woman who
she'd ended up talking to for almost an hour, and the man who'd just left had bought some dried
herbs.

“Is Ms Nakamura not here anymore? I always used to come here for ingredients when she was
working,” he'd asked as he'd handed over the Mora.

“Nope, we're under new management now,” Mona had replied proudly.

She ran her eyes around the room. She'd tried to fill up the space by placing half the display cases
against the walls and positioning the others in the middle of the floor, but even then, half of them
were empty. Was that the problem? Did she just not have enough things to sell? She'd taken
everything salvageable from the basement and put them out in the open for customers to peruse,
even put some of the charts up on the walls to make the place look more vibrant. Perhaps
tomorrow, she'd buy a sandwich board, write on it that she was interested in buying any curios
people had lying around and put it in the street outside. After all, you had to spend money to make
money, right?

After ten minutes had passed with no activity, Mona placed her elbow on the counter, dropped her
chin into her hand and sighed again.

Maybe I should've had a grand opening party in the end.

She could feel her eyelids growing heavier by the second. She shook her head vigorously and
straightened up. What a good first impression that would leave, a customer walking in to find her
slumped across the counter, snoring away.
Yet as the minutes dragged on, she felt her head grow heavy again. She leaned back against the
wall and rubbed her eyes.

Another hour and she'd close. All she had to do was hold on until then.

Despite her efforts, she must have nodded off for a few seconds, because when she opened her eyes
again, a figure was standing on the other side of the shop, gazing into one of the cases. Mona
snapped upright.

“Welcome to Mona's Oddities. If there's any way I can help you find what you're looking for...”

Her words trailed off as her eyes focused and took in the figure properly. The realisation felt like a
punch to the gut.

Oh, shit.

“Mona's Oddities, hm? A ridiculous name, though I suppose it's fitting for such a sad little place.”
The Harbinger straightened up and turned to her. His hat was clutched under one arm.

“Get out of here, Harbinger,” Mona snapped. “We're even. You said so yourself.”

“'Harbinger'? Don't tell me you've forgotten my name.”

Mona paused. “Balladeer.”

“Or Scaramouche, on non-official terms.” The man gave her a smile. “And we are even. I'm
simply here as a customer.”

Mona highly doubted that was the case, but decided not to argue further. She watched as he moved
onto the next cabinet and peered at the object behind the glass, a set of preserved beetles in a photo
frame. Scaramouche... It felt odd to finally have a name to call him by that wasn't a Fatui title, even
if the name itself was probably an alias.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked.

Scaramouche pointed at the door. “I'm not sure if you know, but there's a plaque that says your
name on it on the street outside. That, and your address was on the document I handed to that
lovely man at the Outlander Affairs Agency. I thought I'd give you a while to settle in before
coming to visit, though.”

“I told you to stay away from me,” said Mona through gritted teeth.

“Did you? I must not have heard you,” Scaramouche replied casually. He raised a hand and tapped
the glass in front of him with a nail, as if the beetles would start scuttling if he jolted them from
their suspension. “Besides, how could I let you in on the amazing proposition I have for you if we
aren't face to face?”

“Another proposition, huh?” Mona knew she shouldn't be answering him, but she couldn't help it.
“Let me guess. Murdering a shopkeeper because they short-changed you? Or are you planning on
beating up one of the city guards because they looked at you funny?”

Scaramouche laughed. “You have such little faith in me. But no, I have no intention of murdering
any shopkeepers, although if I did, a certain mouthy little bitch would definitely be first on the
list.”
Mona's hands balled into fists beneath the counter. She drew on her Vision and summoned her
water tendrils to circle her wrists. “You have ten seconds to get out of my shop.”

If Scaramouche noticed her mounting attack, then he made no indication of it. Or maybe he just
didn't care. He made his way towards her slowly. “Let's not be hasty here. You haven't even heard
what I have to offer. I just wanted to help you out, is all.”

“Believe me, I don't need help from the Fatui.”

“Who said anything about the Fatui? This is a personal offer.”

That made Mona pause. “Personal?”

“Mm.” Seeing he had her attention, Scaramouche swooped up to the counter and placed his hands
on it. “I am willing to invest in your... less-than-charming shop here, providing you give something
back to me.”

“And what would be?”

Scaramouche's eyes shone darkly. “Yourself.”

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. Rage flashed through Mona like a lightning bolt.

“You sick fuck.”

In one movement, she swept her hands up from underneath the counter, placed them on
Scaraouche's chest and let her powers loose. Water burst forth from her hands, knocking the
Harbinger back into the nearest cabinet. The sound of glass smashing filled the air. Not that Mona
particularly cared at this point. She allowed the elemental energy of her Vision to fill her, dragging
her down into a torrent that she was able to glide along the floor with.

She couldn't stay in this form for long. Condensing her whole body into Hydro energy was a drain
on her physically, meaning she could only last for several seconds at a time, though she imagined
that would be more than enough time for her to reach the door. She started to move in that
direction, darting over the floorboards with the speed of water cascading down a mountain creek.

She'd managed to get halfway across the room when the world jolted.

The attack was so sudden, so violent, that it snapped Mona from her elemental form before she
even had a chance to scream. She rolled across the floor, feeling like she'd just been hit by a
boulder, and looked up at the figure looming over her.

Scaramouche pulled back the foot he'd just used to stamp on her with. Mona had no idea how he'd
managed to recover from being pushed so quickly or make it over to her in time. He walked
forward and fell on top her, knees either side of her waist, pinning her onto her back.

“Get off me,” Mona growled. She lifted her hands to strike the Harbinger, but he caught her wrists
and pinned them the ground beside her head.

“Didn't you ever learn it's rude to walk away from someone when they're in the middle of talking to
you?” he said in a low voice that would've made Mona shudder had she not been struggling so
much. His front was soaked from where she'd hit him with her Hydro attack, his fringe hanging
down in wet clumps.

“You came into my shop, then asked me that,” she hissed. “As if I would ever say yes.”
Scaramouche smirked. “Is the idea that repulsive to you?”

“If you're so intent on having me, then why don't you do it right now?”

Only when she'd spat the question did Mona realise what a stupid thing it was to say. He could do
what he wanted to her, and she'd be powerless to stop him. She still had no idea what his powers
were. He could wrap his hands around her throat, blast her with elemental energy or slip a knife
into her chest, all before she could even think about summoning her Hydro.

A hint of genuine distaste mixed with Scaramouche's expression. “I don't know what kind of a
villain you take me for, but there are some lines even I won't cross.”

“How virtuous of you,” Mona breathed.

“Besides...” Scaramouche released one of her wrists to snake his fingers around her neck. His eyes
suddenly glazed over, as if he'd become lost in his own thoughts. “I find you very interesting,
Mona.”

She couldn't say why, but words sent a wave of heat through her. The feeling of his fingers digging
into her throat, the warmth of his breath on her cheek, the danger in his voice... All at once, she felt
she like was looking into the eyes of a snake about to swallow her whole.

Her free hand flew up to his neck, fingertips digging between the tendons. “Get. Off. Me.”

Scaramouche blinked. Then he gave a low, humourless snort. “As you wish.”

He pulled off her slowly and stood up. Mona dug her heels into the floor and shuffled backwards
before scrabbling to her feet.

“I think you should leave,” she said, a little breathlessly.

The Harbinger opened his mouth as if to argue, but quickly closed it again and snorted. “Fine.” He
walked to the door, as casually as any of the customers she'd served today, placed a hand on it and
turned to look over his shoulder. “My offer still stands. Come and find me if you reconsider.”

He left without another word.

Mona jumped as the door slammed shut behind him. She was trembling all over, an after effect of
the adrenaline that ran through her veins. The whole encounter felt like a dream, just like the
events of the ship at the time. And yet as she raised her hand to her neck, she felt the tenderness of
the skin from where he'd squeezed it, as real as the ground beneath her feet.

She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath.

Damn him, she thought. Damn him to the Abyss and below.
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The following day, Mona was hit with two blows of bad news.

The first came in the form of a letter left on her doorstep. She found it in the morning as she headed
out to the market street for breakfast following one of the worst night's sleep in her life. With a
heavy head, she bent down, picked up the letter and opened it.

Her eyes flew wide.

“Two hundred and forty-three thousand Mora?” she shouted, so loudly it turned the head of a man
in the street nearby.

She read the letter through from the top. By the time she reached the bottom, her hands were
shaking. She couldn't believe it. According to the sender, a member of the Kanjou Commission,
she was due to pay back all the rent and tax that her property had amassed in the months since its
abandonment by its former proprietor, Nakamura Riko, with, of course, a 'handling and changeover
fee' placed on the top to cover the admin work involved. The amount made the handling fee the
Outlander Affairs Agency had tried to scam her out of look paltry in comparison.

Mona was in two minds to scrunch the letter up and throw it into the nearest drain, but instead, she
left it in the safe box. She'd speak to Yoimiya about it later and see what could be done. It had to be
some kind of mistake.

The second blow of bad news came as she was walking back from the market street.

The foresight flashed through Mona's mind without warning, as it always did: a vision of two
guards waiting outside her shop. Sure enough, when she turned the corner, there they were, faces
grim and polearms pointed at the sky.

She held back at the alley mouth and faked a look of shock, not that she had to try very hard. “I
wasn't expecting visitors today.”

“Ms Mona Megistus.” The guard closest to her straightened his back. “We require a few moments
of your time, if you'd be so kind.”

He stepped aside, allowing Mona space to unlock the door and let the pair of them in. She didn't
need a Vision to know what this was about.

Once they were inside the shop and they'd left their polearms against the wall, Mona led them to
the middle of the room and looked around. “I'm afraid I don't really have chairs... You can sit on
the counter, if you'd like.”

“We're find to stand,” said the first guard. He motioned to the display case in front of the counter.
“What happened there?”

Mona didn't have to follow his gaze to know what he was talking about. She'd cleaned up the
shards of glass that Scaramouche had broken when she'd knocked him back, but the pane was still
missing. “I tripped.”
The guard nodded.

His wife left him last year for another man, Mona thought as she stared at him. She and her lover
moved to the countryside, leaving him here in the city.

She'd almost have pitied him were she not terrified at the reason he was here.

“Now, Ms Megistus,” said the second guard. “We have some questions for you, and we'd like you
to answer them as truthfully as you can. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes,” said Mona.

“Good. Does the name Hugo Wellington mean anything to you?”

Mona tried to hide the way her shoulders stiffened. “I know a Hugo, yes, but I'm not sure if that's
his surname.”

“Could you describe him for us?”

She tried to picture Hugo in her head. Their time together had been so brief, she found it hard to
remember all but the main features. “White skin, short brown hair, average height. I think he was
from Fontaine.”

The second guard spoke again: “I believe we're talking about the right person.”

Mona looked between them. She was usually good at being able to tell when she was being lied to
or tricked, though it was a great deal harder when her nerves felt as shredded as they were right
now. In her experience, she'd learnt that there was little point in playing ignorant in the face of an
accusation – better to find a narrative that worked and defend it to the end. She doubted either of
these guards truly cared about one missing Fontainian sailor. Most likely, they were following up
on a report made by the crew as a matter of formality. Providing she stepped carefully, she should
be able to escape from this without being arrested.

“He's gone missing, hasn't he?” said Mona.

“How do you know that?” asked the first guard.

“One of the crew told me in Ritou. He asked me if I had anything to do with his disappearance.”

“And did you?”

She shook her head. “Of course not.”

The first guard crossed his arms and fixed her with a cold look. “Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, Ms
Megistus, but a portion of the crew still think you did. You were the last person to be seen with Mr
Wellington. Please could you therefore tell us the events that happened on that night as you saw
them.”

Mona's heart was pounding, but she remained outwardly calm as she talked the guards through her
story, from finding Hugo in the hold to leaving him on the deck as he finished his cigarette. Most
of it was fabricated, of course, but only the parts where the two of them had been alone. There was
no way she could lie about something the whole crew had seen.

“I don't know what happened after I left him,” she said. “I went straight back to my cabin and
assumed he'd do the same.”
The second guard made a small noise of acknowledgement. “Why did you even seek Mr
Wellington out in the first place? Did the two of you know one another beforehand?”

Mona paused. This was where her acting would really pay off. “I didn't know him before the trip,
no. It's a little embarrassing, but...” She dropped her eyes to the floor. “I thought he was attractive.
I'd seen him around the ship and thought if I could get him alone, I'd be able to convince him to
come back to my cabin with me.”

It was a stupid, stupid lie, but those were the kinds that often worked best. The wave of heat that
rose to her cheeks at the shame of admitting something so brazen to a pair of strangers only added
credibility to the story.

“I'm assuming it didn't work,” said the first guard with a snort.

A crack appeared in the other man's stony composure. “Not to worry. There are plenty of people
here who'd be all too happy to take up an offer like that from a pretty girl such as yourself.”

There was no missing the obvious hint in his tone. Mona wanted to grimace.

“So I've noticed,” she said dryly.

The line reminded her of Scaramouche's bold-faced proposition yesterday. She allowed herself the
fantasy of imagining briefly what it would be like to tell the guards that it was all the Harbinger's
fault. She'd dress it up a little, say that he'd forced her to lure Hugo out for him, make out that she
was the helpless young girl that the guards clearly saw her as, victimised by a Fatui monster.

But of course, she knew nothing was as simple as that. Scaramouche would find a way to bribe his
way out, just like he had for her at the Outlander Affairs Agency, and then he'd come for her. He
knew where she lived now, after all. What he'd do to her for selling him out, though, was anyone's
guess.

Probably laugh about it, she thought, and then find a way to turn it all around on me.

Once they'd asked her a few more questions about the night – whether Hugo had been acting
suspicious, or if she'd seen anyone else on the deck, all of which she'd answered with a 'no' – the
guards thanked Mona for her time and made for the door.

“We'll be back in touch shortly.”

“Mm. Please let me know if you hear any news,” said Mona.

“We will. Ensuring the safety of every outlander who comes to these shores is paramount to the
nation's mission,” replied the first guard in a tone that suggested he couldn't care less if he found
Hugo's body lying in the alley outside before his feet.

“Well, it certainly looks genuine.” Yoimiya held the letter Mona had received this morning in front
of her. “Hiiragi Tomoya is a high-ranking member of the Kanjou Commission, and look.” She
pointed to the red stamp at the bottom. “That's the official seal. I'd have to say this is the real deal.”
Mona hadn't realised it was possible for her heart to sink any deeper, but somehow it did. Her final
hope had been counting on the letter being some kind of fraud, maybe even a forgery made by
Scaramouche to force her into becoming financially reliant on him. A far-fetched idea, but not out
of the question.

“It's ridiculous,” Mona snapped. “I don't even have a fraction of the money they're asking. How in
the world am I supposed to pay it?”

“It is an excessive amount.” Yoimiya looked up from the letter and shot her a sympathetic look.
“The only silver lining is that they haven't given you a specific date to pay it back by. Normally, I'd
say that means they expect you to visit and thrash out a middle ground with them, but this is the
Kanjou Commission. They aren't known for their leniency towards outlanders.”

The pair of them stood in the shade beneath the awning outside Naganohara Fireworks. The only
reason they weren't discussing this inside was because Yoimiya had to watch the store while her
father was taking a nap. Not that there was anyone around to eavesdrop on them.

“What about Thoma?” Mona asked. “He works for the Yashiro Commission, doesn't he? Surely he
could ask them to help out.”

“The Commissions don't work like that, I'm afraid. They're more or less three separate
organisations serving the Shogun. They all keep to their own areas and don't have power to
influence one another.” Yoimiya paused. “Although...”

“Yes?” Mona said eagerly.

“I'm not seeing a breakdown of the costs here. Whatever this handling and takeover fee is they've
added, I'm sure you'll be able to drive them down with a bit of simple bribery, but the rent will
probably stand. It's better than nothing, though.”

Mona appreciated her help. She really did. But the more she heard of this, the more she felt like she
was drowning. She turned away from Yoimiya and looked out across the grassy plains at the
outskirts of the city. First the Harbinger, then the guards, and now this. Whenever it seemed like
she'd finally caught her balance on something, it was whipped out from underneath her.

Worst of all, she should have been able to predict all of this. Very rarely did bad things happen to
her without at least a hint of intuition beforehand. Yet ever since the ship, she'd been hit with a
seemingly neverending barrage of misfortune with little warning before each one. It was almost
like she'd lost her ability to predict them.

Like her Vision was malfunctioning.

She banished the thought the moment it came into her head. That was impossible. Visions were
gifts from Celestia; they didn't break or degrade like mortal devices. And she'd read Yoimiya's
constellation just fine the other day, hadn't she? Not to mention her Hydro had responded perfectly
when she'd launched Scaramouche into the cabinet yesterday, a fact she felt smug about even now.

Still.

“Mona, are you okay?”

Yoimiya's voice broke her from her thoughts. She spun around and shook her head. “No, I'm not.
I'm pissed off. Why is my responsibility to pay some other person's debt? I wasn't even in Inazuma
at the time!”
“I don't know, but please... Just keep your voice down, okay?” Yoimiya glanced at an elderly
couple as they walked past the shop, staring at them with disapproval, and at once, Mona felt a
wave of embarrassment. She didn't even realise she'd been shouting so loudly.

Raising a hand to her face, she muttered, “At least now we know why that scam merchant was so
eager to offload her friend's shop on me.”

Yoimiya sighed. The sound seemed so out of tune with her usual cheerful facade. “I know you're
frustrated. I would be, too. However, there's very little you can until you've visited the Kanjou
Commission and spoken to someone there. Their headquarters are in Ritou, but they have an office
in the city, too. Go and make an appointment with them tomorrow. I'd join you if I didn't have to
look after the shop while my father goes out for deliveries.” She paused, as if contemplating
something. “I'll write a letter to Thoma, too. He's back at the Kamisato Estate, so he should be able
to ask Lady Ayaka if there's anything that can be done. I know he wouldn't mind.”

“I appreciate it,” said Mona, and she meant it. None of this was Yoimiya's fault, and here she was
helping her out, anyway.

“Well, I'm not exactly going to stand around and let you deal with this on your own, am I?” said
Yoimiya, a hint of playfulness returning to her voice. “Besides, there's no use sugarcoating it. If
you don't manage to settle that debt one way or another, the Kanjou Commission will end up
taking the shop and revoking your Residence Permit. You'll be kicked out of Inazuma.”

Yoimiya's words still haunted Mona's thoughts as she settled down in her futon that night.

You'll be kicked out of Inazuma.

She'd taken her friend's advice and booked an appointment at the Kanjou City Office for the
following morning. The woman behind the counter had given her the same stiff impression as the
man at the Agency, leaving her with the unmistakeable feeling that she was an outsider and
completely unwelcome on these shores.

But then she'd thought about Yoimiya treating her to ramen, Thoma's enthusiasm at introducing her
to the Kamisatos, even the innkeeper who'd looked after her that first night in Konda, and suddenly
she'd felt a stab of guilt. It wasn't fair to tar a whole country with the same brush because of a small
percentage of its people. If that were the case, she'd have to claim that Mondstadt was a nation of
violent louts based on the handful of Treasure Hoarders she'd met. Here in Inazuma, it seemed that
only the officials were arseholes.

Mona exhaled sharply and rolled onto her side. She'd always slept in loose pyjamas back in her
Mondstadt home, or even her leotard on days when she couldn't be bothered to change, but in this
nation, where the temperature was a little warmer and the air a little thicker, she'd started to sleep in
just her underwear. There was something relaxing about feeling the thin sheets against her bare
skin, her hair draped over her shoulders now that it was no longer confined to its twin tails.
Tonight, though, it seemed that no matter which position she lay in, whether on her side, back or
hugging the huge pillow beneath her, her body just couldn't get comfortable.

Kicked out of Inazuma.

She knew Yoimiya hadn't meant them that way, but there was just something so cold about those
words. It wasn't like she was in danger. There were worse things in life than being deported –
Archons, she'd spent a good deal of her life wandering around with no home. Still, despite the short
amount of time she'd been in Inazuma, she already felt like she'd set down roots here, and the idea
of returning to Mondstadt with her tail between her legs after she'd bigged herself up to everyone
made her feel sick.

Of course, there was a solution to her problem, one so unspeakable she hadn't even considered it an
option until now.

Mona thought of the Harbinger leaning over the counter yesterday, the dark twinkle in his eyes as
he'd answered her question with a single word: Yourself. It had been such an unexpected
proposition, especially considering that Scaramouche himself had called her a nobody back on the
deck. To go from that to claiming he found her interesting while he'd been pinning her to the
ground was a surprise, to say the least. They'd only met a couple of times. Just what had she done
to change his mind so readily?

More likely, this was all a game to him. He saw her as an easy target, someone who he could
manipulate and blackmail without consequences. He already occupied that dark corner of her
thoughts, a fact he was no doubt aware of. Why not take it up a notch and coerce her into giving
him her body, as well?

Is the idea that repulsive to you?

It wasn't like Mona lacked experience in that department. There had been that hunter boy in
Springdale two years ago who she'd ended up sleeping with for the first time. Then, a couple of
months later, she'd met a herbologist who'd set up temporary on the Liyue-Mondstadt border.
Mona had visited her several times over the coming weeks until she'd announced she was moving
back to her native Natlan, much to Mona's heartache.

After that, she'd written off all notion of relationships for a while. There had been that one man in
Mondstadt called Nimrod who'd tried to come onto her on one of the rare nights she'd visited the
Angel's Share before Captain Kaeya had subtly pulled her aside and told her that he was married.
Kaeya had promised that he and the Knights would 'look the other way' when Mona visited
Nimrod at his address the following day and knocked him onto his arse on his doorstep, all while
his wife looked on approvingly.

And yet there was something about Scaramouche that chilled her to the bone. More than the fact
he was a Harbinger and a murderer and appeared to evade her hydromancy. She wasn't about to
claim it was something inhuman, although she might be forgiven for thinking such a thing. She
remembered how easily he'd cut Hugo's throat, how casually he'd acted about it afterwards. Mona
had never killed someone before, but surely it was normal to show at least a slither of remorse
afterwards.

It wasn't the idea of sleeping with Scaramouche that repulsed her. It was the man himself. He was
vile.

So, why was there a small part of her that kept on returning to the memory of his hand around her
neck yesterday?

She'd tried to ignore it, dismiss it as a natural response to the attack. It had been easy during the day
when she'd had things to distract her. Now, lying in her room with nothing but silence around her,
she couldn't help but remember once again the heat that had flushed through her as he'd pinned her
down. She thought of the way his eyes had glazed over, the weight of his body on hers, how close
his lips had been to her face as he'd whispered to her.

Before she knew it, a new wave of warmth had flooded Mona's body. She rubbed her thighs
together to satiate the growing ache between her legs. When that did little to help, she slowly
reached towards her underwear.

Alarm bells rang in her head. Was she really going to lie here and touch herself to the thought of
the Harbinger, a man she'd spent the last ten minutes denouncing as a monster? The idea was low
even for her.

Still, needs were needs, and it wasn't like she could sleep, anyway.

Mona slipped her hand beneath her underwear and started to stroke herself gently. After a few
seconds, it became apparent that the garment was only going to get in the way, so she sat up,
slipped it off and lay back down again. She dipped a finger between her folds to wet it, then
returned her attention to her clit, circling it with her fingertip in slow, languid movements.

She had a number of fantasies filed away in her mind for times like this. Once she'd latched onto
one, she closed her eyes and tried to relax into her rhythm. A gasp escaped her lips as she found a
particularly sensitive spot, so she concentrated her attention there, rubbing harder and faster until
she was trembling.

The image in her head morphed into one of Scaramouche, who leaned down over her and
whispered, in a voice as smooth and deadly as molten gold, “How utterly filthy.”

Mona should've stopped right there. She knew what she was doing was wrong. And yet she eagerly
carried on.

The imaginary Scaramouche smiled. He was sat on top of her, straddling her waist as he had been
back in the shop. His hair, wet from her Hydro, clung to his pale skin. Slowly, Mona reached up
her body with her free hand, pausing to knead one of her breasts and roll her nipple between finger
and thumb, then wrapped her hand around her throat and squeezed.

Her body jolted as the heat between her legs surged, threatening her climax. Not wanting it to end
yet, Mona slipped the finger she'd been using to massage her clit inside herself. Her heart leaped at
the way her walls clamped around the intrusion. She pulled out and pushed a second finger in,
gasping at the slight stretch. All the while, her other hand remained on her throat.

Would Scaramouche touch her like this? Would he have her on a table, pinned down as his fingers
worked their way in and out of her? She imagined the look of fascination in his eyes, the way he'd
berate her for letting herself be swayed so easily, but coax her onwards regardless. Maybe he'd even
bend over and press a kiss to her lips. The thought seemed far too tender for him, but Mona didn't
care. It wasn't like any of this was real, anyway.

A sudden bolt of pain ran up her neck. Only then did she realise how hard she was choking herself.
She let go and took a moment to allow the air to flow freely into her lungs again. Her cheeks were
burning, though whether from embarrassment, arousal, or a mix of both, she couldn't tell. She
pulled her fingers, soaking up to the knuckles from between her legs and wiped them on her thigh,
then sat up, took her pillow and folded it in half.

Whatever small, rational part of her mind remained was screaming at her to stop this, but Mona
was far too deeply entrenched in the heat of her fantasy to go back now. Driven by pure lust, she
mounted the pillow and wiggled her hips until she found an angle that had the material pushing up
against her clit.
 After a few experimental rolls of her hips, Mona found a rhythm that worked for her. She'd never
done anything like this before. The pillow was far too soft to give her any proper friction, but the
feeling of having something solid between her legs more than made up for it. She alternated
between leaning forward until her stomach was pressed against the pillow and sitting upright,
propped up on her hands, her back arched and hair falling over it.

In her mind, long fingers spread over her shoulders and trailed down to her waist. She felt hot
breath on the back of her neck, a hand moving her hair aside so that warm lips could press to her
throat. She lifted a hand from the pillow and cupped one of her breasts with it. The imaginary
Scaramouche groaned in her ear.

“You feel beautiful, Mona. Let me ruin you.”

Suddenly, he was beneath her. His nails dug into the swell of her arse as he guided her back and
forth over him. Mona squeezed her thighs around his hips, balled her hands into fists on his pale
chest and whined, all while the Harbinger watched her with those dark, predatory eyes.

With one final push of her hips, Mona climaxed hard. She leaned forward and buried her face in
the pillow to muffle her cry as her body pulsed with heat. By the time she'd come down, she was
trembling all over.

Mona pulled off the pillow with a gasp. Even in the dark, she could feel the wet streak that stained
one side of it, a physical manifestation of her shame. Now that the excitement had passed, the air
felt cold against her burning skin. She turned the pillow over, slipped on her underwear and pulled
the covers up to her shoulders, filled with a sense of disgust so strong it made her skin crawl.

It had been a moment of confusion. That was all. Now it was over, out of her system, and judging
from the way she was feeling, it would be the last time, too.

She rolled onto her side, surprised by how empty the room felt all of a sudden. Her hand crept up to
her neck. The skin felt tender enough that she feared there would be bruises there tomorrow. She
grimaced.

What in the name of Barbatos is wrong with me?

Chapter End Notes

Fuck Nimrod all my homies hate Nimrod.

 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The house looked no different from the others around it: slanted roof, dark wooden walls, and a
raised porch at the front. If it weren't for the obvious Fatui agent milling about at the entrance,
Mona might have missed it altogether.

She'd passed through this village on the outskirts of the city when she'd first arrived here. She
remembered Yoimiya calling it Hanamizaka at one point. The houses were spaced further apart
than those in the central city and interspersed with trees and winding paths. Somewhere nearby, she
could hear a river babbling its way downhill.

A lump had already formed in Mona's throat. In and out, she reminded herself. No hanging around.
No letting herself get talked into any negotiations. She just had to speak with the Harbinger, and
that would be it.

Her appointment at the Kanjou City Office had gone just about as well as she'd anticipated.
Although of a more relaxed temperament of any of the other officials she'd encountered so far, the
man had ultimately told her there was nothing he could do. The debt was non-negotiable. He'd
shown her a ledger with all the months of rent Nakamura Riko had missed and the fees she'd
amassed stretching back over years. Since her Residence Permit had her registered to the address, it
was Mona's responsibility to pay everything back.

She'd asked then if there was any possible way of tracking down Nakamura Riko. The man had
looked at her sympathetically and told her she'd likely moved to the mainland months ago. In any
case, they had no recent record of her on the ledgers.

So, that was that. Mona either had to pay the debt, or move back to Mondstadt.

The agent looked up as she approached him. Although he was wearing a hood, she could still feel
the heat of his eyes boring into her.

“Yes?” he snapped.

With a confidence she certainly wasn't feeling, Mona said, “I'm here to see the Balladeer.”

“He's not in. Go away,” said the agent.

If Mona didn't know through intuition alone that he was lying, then the abruptness of his voice
would've betrayed him, anyway.

“Would you mind having a look for me? Tell him it's Mona. He'll be expecting me.”

The agent ground his teeth, clearly deciding whether it was worth it to send her away and risk
incurring Scaramouche's anger. In the end, he sighed and disappeared through the door with the
order to wait where she was. He returned a minute later. “Go through. Last door on the left.”

Mona walked into a small reception area with a long hallway stretching off in front of her. She did
her best to ignore the pair of Fatui chatting around the counter on the right as she made her way
down the hallway and stopped in front of the final door.
She knew he was in there. Her Vision gave her no clues, but she knew all the same. The pit of
dread in her stomach was the same as that night on the ship.

In, out, and you're gone.

Clenching her jaw, Mona slid open the door.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it certainly wasn't the sight that greeted her. The room
was small, dimly lit and almost empty except for the figure in the middle. He sat on top of a large,
flat pillow with his back to her. His hair had been tied back into a short tail, and he was dressed in a
deep purple kimono that billowed out at the sleeves.

He didn't look back at her, didn't do anything to even register that she was there. In fact, it was only
when Mona took a step forward that he said, “Shoes off, please. You're going to damage the
tatami.”

Mona looked down. He must have been referring to the straw mats that made up the floor of the
room. She obeyed him grudgingly, then walked over to see what he was doing. In front of him lay a
rectangular piece of paper with a half-finished mountain scene on it, a bowl of water and two jars
of paint in red and black. He dipped the paintbrush in his hand into the black before returning to
the paper.

As much as she despised him, Mona had to admit it was fascinating to watch. He'd only painted the
outlines of the mountains, using different thicknesses of brush strokes to create shadow and depth.
In fact, the only place he'd used the red was for the sun, which hovered at the top of the
composition like an angry burning eye.

“I take it by the fact you're here that you've reconsidered my offer,” he said.

“No. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

The corner of Scaramouche's lips turned up. “We can talk.”

He balanced the paintbrush on top of the bowl and looked up at her for the first time. The sight of
his face sent a jolt through Mona as she remembered what she'd done two nights before. She had to
fight the rising colour in her cheeks. Being here with him in person was different than imagining
him. She was no longer in the comfort of her own thoughts. The man before her was very real and
very dangerous.

Deciding not to leap to the matter of the debt straight away, Mona placed her hands on her hips and
said, “A pair of guards visited me yesterday morning. They asked me about Hugo's murder.”

“Hugo? Who's that?”

“You've got to be joking,” said Mona.

Scaramouche paused, then raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yes. That waste of space I had the misfortune
of meeting on board the ship. Is he still causing problems? I'd have thought his corpse would be
floating at the far reaches of the Dark Sea by now.”

Mona squeezed her fingers into a fist. He was clearly trying to rile her up, but she was determined
not to let him.

“The crew have pushed for an investigation. They think I'm the one who killed him.”
“And did you tell them the truth?”

Mona shook her head. “I should have done.”

Scaramouche snorted as he turned back to his painting. “I think you'll find, if you dig deeply
enough into that empty little head of yours, that you had as much a hand in killing Hugo as I did.
You led him right to me, as I asked. Or are you going to pretend that didn't happen?”

Mona had already anticipated he'd try to manipulate her into taking at least partial responsibility for
Hugo's death, though it didn't help to stop the rage that grew inside her.

“You know I didn't mean to,” she protested. “You tricked me so that you could—”

In a heartbeat, Scaramouche rose to his feet and clamped his hand over her mouth, silencing her
mid-sentence. Staring into her eyes, he muttered, “This building isn't like that shop you own.
Sound carries here. Shut the fuck up or I'll throw you out for disturbing the peace.”

The idea of 'peace' in a Fatui hideout was laughable, but now that he mentioned it, Mona realised
he had a point. The only sounds she could hear were the faint laugher of the pair of agents in the
reception and her own heartbeat thudding in her temples.

Slowly, Scaramouche removed his hand. “So, is that it? Did you come here to whinge about a dead
sailor, or do you have another reason for wasting my time?”

Once again, Mona had to make a conscious effort not to let her anger spill over, especially as she
was about to move onto the second reason why she was here. “It's about the shop, actually.”

“Really, now?”

“Yes. I received a letter. Turns out the place is drowning in debt.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that?”

Mona stiffened. Had he already forgotten his offer in the span of two days? More likely he was
forcing her to recite the terms of his proposition again for the sake of causing her embarrassment. It
was partially working. Her cheeks were heating up, though she managed to keep her voice calm.
“You offered to invest in the shop for a price.”

“That I did,” said Scaramouche, placing a hand on Mona's waist. She had to fight the instinct to
pull away. “How much debt are we talking about?”

Mona dropped her eyes to the floor. “Two hundred and forty-three thousand.”

A part of her had expected Scaramouche to reel at the number, but he only nodded. “That's a lot of
Mora.”

“It is. And that's why I'm here to propose a counter-offer. I intend to stay in Inazuma for a number
of years. If you help me pay it, I'll give the Fatui thirty percent of my profit while I'm here.”

The air grew heavy as Mona waited for Scaramouche to respond. At last, he retracted his hand
from her waist and took a step back. A noise like nails scratching against ceramic met her ears. She
realised it was his laughter. It was a shrill, unpleasant sound, completely different from the little
giggles he'd given up until now. Maybe it was because this was the first time he'd been genuine
about it.
“What?” Mona snapped.

“Nothing,” said Scaramouche, placing a hand over his heart. “You were just so determined when
you said it. As if you actually believed I'd say yes.”

Mona's pulse skipped a beat. She'd prepared for this moment all the way back from the Kanjou
City Office. It was more than a fair offer in her eyes, and almost more than she could afford to give
away. How could he stand there and mock her over it?

“But—”

“You know what I want,” said Scaramouche, still grinning. “I was very clear in my terms. Agree to
my proposition, and I'll buy your debt. Money is no object to the Fatui.”

Mona clenched her teeth. Even though she'd said she'd never stoop to this, even though she'd
promised herself she'd walk away before it got to this point, she still found the words spilling out of
her: “So, if I sleep with you once, you'll give me what I want?”

The question sounded foul to her own ears, but it seemed to spark something inside Scaramouche.
He narrowed his eyes, his wide smile fading to a subtle curve of the lips. All at once, Mona felt like
she was being squeezed in the coils of some giant snake, despite the fact no part of them was
touching.

“Perhaps I was less clear than I thought,” he said softly. “I don't want to just sleep with you. I want
to own you. I want to break you down from the inside out until you're just a hollow thing, too
addicted to what I give you to think about anything else.”

Mona was too shocked by his confession to produce more than a single, choked word: “Why?”

The Harbinger smirked. “Because it sounds like fun.”

Fun. Mona should have anticipated a reason like that. After all, what other justification did she
expect from a man who'd cut someone's throat because they'd walked into them? It felt like the
worst possible time for her body to flush with heat as she remembered the parallel between his
words and those uttered by the Scaramouche in her head two nights ago: You feel beautiful, Mona.
Let me ruin you.

Mona took a step back, her emotions trapped somewhere between horror and arousal. She couldn't
look him in the eyes. “And if I don't... want that?”

Scaramouche made no effort to come after her. Maybe he could already sense she was cornered
enough. “I'm not going to force you. Where's the triumph in that?”

Just as she'd thought. It was all a game to him.

“Is this not something you want?” he asked simply.

It as if he could smell her thoughts, the way a predator could sniff out the pheromones of its prey
from afar. Did he know from a look what she'd done the night before?

Worst still, could he tell that she was actually considering his offer?

A hand touched Mona's cheek, snapping her out of her daze. She looked up to see Scaramouche
standing in front of her, so close their noses were almost touching, his red eyeliner as sharp as knife
blades. Mona wished she had the power to pull away from him. She willed herself to just take a
step back, drag her eyes away from his, get a grip on herself, but yet again, she couldn't move.

“I'll ask you once more,” whispered Scaramouche, running a knuckle down her cheek. “Is the idea
of being with me so repulsive?”

“Yes, it is,” said Mona with certainty. Then she slowly leaned forward.

Closing the inches between their faces felt like pushing herself the final few yards of a marathon.
By the time their lips met, Mona was already breathless. She allowed her mouth to linger on
Scaramouche's for a few seconds, taking in the softness of his lips, the warmth of his breath against
hers, before he grasped her cheeks in both hands and forced her backwards.

Mona had to stagger herself to keep from falling onto her back. It wasn't the sweet, tender kiss she'd
imagined last night. Scaramouche was relentless. His lips pressed against hers with bruising force,
his tongue sliding over her own, exploring the warm cavern of her mouth. Mona placed her hands
on his chest to push him away, but ended up squeezing the material of his kimono between her
fingers, latching the pair of them together.

“Wait,” she finally managed to blurt out.

Scaramouche pulled back and stared at her inquisitively. “Yes?”

Mona had no idea what to say. Her mind swirled so violently that even thinking straight was a task
in itself, let alone transforming those thoughts into words.

Without taking his eyes away from her, the Harbinger placed his thumb on her bottom lip and
wiped off a smear of saliva that had pooled there. “If you dislike it so much, then deny me.”

It wasn't a threat. It was an invitation. Mona had no doubts that he'd actually stop if she told him to.
Just two words, and she'd be able to walk free of this place. The money didn't matter. She was sure
that if she really looked, she'd be able to secure a loan from somewhere, even if she had to ask for
help from the Knights back in Mondstadt. There was no reason for her to be here.

And yet with each passing heartbeat, the harder it became to silence the part of her mind that
wanted to carry on. From the outside, it was a ridiculous idea. Scaramouche was a vile little
creature, and even now, she felt a stab of disgust at the feeling of his hand on her face. But at the
same time, there was no ignoring the thrill that ran through her veins at the thought of giving
herself over to him, of letting him claim and consume her until there was nothing left, just as he'd
promised.

How could she possibly deny him?

When Scaramouche brought her in for a second kiss, Mona didn't resist. He was a little more gentle
this time, leading her lips in a slow, forceful dance while his hands roamed her shoulders, then her
chest. She shivered as he undid the clip at the front of her mantle and pushed it to the floor so that
his fingers could roam the bare skin of her upper back.

Mona wanted to scream. She knew she had to stop this before it got too far. Or maybe it was
already too late. A gasp escaped her lips as Scaramouche lowered his head and sucked the skin at
the base of her neck, alternating between little nips and kisses.

“Oh?”

Mona froze. There was only one thing that could have caught the Harbinger's attention. Sure
enough, he jabbed at one of the spots she'd dug her fingers into when she'd choked herself. “Don't
tell me this is what I think it is.”

“You did that when you attacked me in my shop,” she said stiffly.

Scaramouche snorted and said in a tone that left no doubt he didn't believe her, “Did I, now?”

He started to undress her, peeling off her gloves one by one before turning his attention to her
leotard. Mona couldn't hold back the wave of heat that rose to her face as he pushed the material
down. She never usually wore a bra with this outfit – her breasts weren't particularly large, and the
leotard was tight enough that it supported everything just fine. The moment Scaramouche's hands
met her bare breasts, she shuddered. He kneaded them with a force that bordered on painful, his
thumbs tracing hard circles around her nipples, all while he continued to kiss and suck her neck.

Before she knew it, Mona was being guided to the pillow. She lay back on it and looked up at
Scaramouche, who knelt between her legs. His hands were already fiddling with the knot at the
back of his obi. Mona could feel his gaze raking hungrily across her body.

“Well?” he said.

It took her a moment to realise he was referring to the remainder of her leotard, which was bunched
up around her waist. She pushed it down and left it by the pillow, then did the same to her tights,
leaving her in just her underwear. It felt wrong, so wrong, to be this naked in front of the Harbinger.

“If I do this, you'll give me what I want, right?” she muttered.

Scaramouche smirked in a way that seemed to say, Still pretending you didn't readily agree to this,
are you? Mona had no choice. Only by telling herself she was doing this because she had to, not
because she wanted to, could she better ignore the rush of pleasure she felt every time he touched
her or the heat that pooled between her legs as she thought about what was to come.

Although there was some truth in it, wasn't there? She'd never be in this position if Scaramouche
hadn't coaxed her into it, never even considered him in that way if he hadn't approached her in her
shop. He'd seeped under her skin like poison. Now she was going to have to suffer the
consequences.

The kimono fell from Scaramouche's shoulders and landed at the edge of the cushion. The
candlelight flickered across skin as pale as paper. While he was by no means rugged, he had a little
more lean muscle than his Harbinger outfit let on, with sturdy shoulders and a slim waist. When he
lowered himself onto Mona, she placed her hands on his chest and revelled in the smooth, firm skin
she found there.

“I'll give you what you want,” he whispered against her lips, “but you're going to have to tell me
what it is first.”

Mona frowned. “The money for the debt, of course.”

Scaramouche laughed softly. “Is that all?”

Mona was about to ask him what he was talking about, when he slipped a hand beneath her
underwear and rubbed two fingers across her clit. The sudden pressure shocked her so much, she
bucked her hips against him. Another giggle left his mouth.

“Oh, I am going to enjoy this.”

Like her, he was still wearing his underwear. When she brushed her thigh against it, Mona could
feel the unmistakeable hardness straining beneath. He sat back on his calves and pulled them
down, releasing his cock from its confines. Mona's breath hitched in her throat. It curved slightly
towards his navel, a flushed pink colour against the white of his skin.

Scaramouche smiled at her smugly and positioned himself over her again. Mona had expected a
little more foreplay, but as he hooked his thumb around her underwear and pulled it aside, she
realised that wasn't going to happen.

“W-wai—”

The feeling of Scaramouche pushing against her entrance made her choke on her protest, and then
he was sliding into her, forcing her walls to part for him. Mona wrapped her hands in his hair and
buried her face into his neck to muffle the cry she desperately wanted to let out.

Despite the lack of preparation, Scaramouche managed to sheathe himself most of the way inside
her with one thrust. He let out a hot, shaky breath against Mona's temple before rolling his hips into
her once again. This time, she couldn't hold back a gasp.

Scaramouche propped himself up on his hands, caging her between his arms so that he could look
down at her. Just like his first kiss, each thrust was rough and unpleasant. It was like he didn't care
about how much pain he was causing her. Or maybe that was the point.

“You're hurting me,” she finally managed to whine.

“So?” said Scaramouche, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “If you want me to stop, just give the
word.”

Another challenge. Mona knew that if she said the words, he'd pull off her without hesitation. Yet
as she opened her mouth, she found herself unable to speak. Was it due to her stubbornness? Or
was it because a part of her was secretly enjoying this, the same part that had urge her on while
she'd been touching herself to the thought of him? She didn't know, didn't want to know.
Everything about this felt wrong.

So why couldn't she make it stop?

A particularly hard thrust made Mona cry out again. Scaramouche smirked. Cracks had begun to
appear in his usual mask-like composure, his eyes narrowing with exertion and his cheeks flushing
pink. When he spoke, his voice was deeper and punctuated with little gasps: “Seems like there was
a way to shut you up, after all.”

Mona lifted her hands to wrap around his neck, but he caught her by the wrists and pinned them
either side of her head one by one. The new position allowed him to lean over her further, his hips
not once faltering in their relentless assault.

“I was considering tying my obi around your mouth just for some peace and quiet.”

“That's rich... coming from you,” Mona murmured between breathy moans.

“Maybe so. But have you forgotten who's in charge here?”

As if to back up his words, Scaramouche pulled out of Mona so that only his head was inside her
before slamming back in hard. She arched her back and groaned. Scaramouche gazed at her with
the wonder of a collector pinning a rare butterfly to a corkboard.

“You're awful,” she whispered.

 “And you're just plain in denial,” he cooed back.

He was nearing his climax now. Mona could tell in the shortness of his breath, the way his hips
stuttered between thrusts. She lay her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes, not wanting
to look at him anymore. Taking it as an invitation, Scaramouche leaned down and latched onto the
base of her throat. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin, tongue swirling hot circles against her collar
until, at last, he pulled back and groaned.

It was all Mona could do to squeeze her eyes shut. Scaramouche grasped her wrists between his
fingers, nails digging into her skin, holding her in place as he rode out his climax. When he pulled
out of her, he was breathless.

Mona took the opportunity to tear her hands from his grip. She folded them across her chest in an
attempt to regain the tatters of her dignity, as if it would make a difference after what she'd just
done.

Scaramouche rolled onto his side, grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her to meet him. His arm
encircled her shoulders, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “There. That wasn't so bad, was it?”

Mona didn't answer, just stared at a space on the wall behind his head.

I hate you, she thought. I hate you so much.

Just which of the two of them it was aimed at, she wasn't quite sure.

Scaramouche,

I'm taking over Pierro's duty while he's out of Snezhnaya. From now on, all correspondence shall
be directed to me. I know you won't like it, but that's the way it's going to be.

Did you manage to locate the astrologist? She should be in Inazuma by the time this reaches you. I
know you have a penchant for doing things your own way, but the Tsaritsa has stressed how
important it is that this plan be carried out to perfection. Therefore, I implore you, in the most
frank of terms, not to fuck this one up.

I look forward to a swift update.

Il Dottore

Chapter End Notes

I proper struggled over how to end this chapter ;-; Writing do be hard sometimes. But
yay! They fucked <3
 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Mona arrived back at her shop to find a figure poking around the entrance.

“Hey,” she called out. “What do you think you're doing?”

If it hadn't been obvious he'd been trying to break in, then the way he snapped bolt upright was
more than a giveaway. Mona narrowed her eyes. It was one of the guards who'd interviewed her
over Hugo's death.

He turned to her, guilt plastered across his face. “I knocked several times, but there was no answer.
I thought you might be in trouble.”

It was a weak lie, and one Mona would have called him out on had she not been so exhausted.
“Well, I'm here now. What do you want?”

The guard shot her a smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring, though it only made
Mona's skin crawl. He looked to be twice her age, tall, with black hair and a wide chest beneath his
uniform. Not that any of that intimidated her. She'd taken down larger enemies before with the help
of her Vision, often several at a time.

“I just wanted to make sure you're okay,” he said. “Murder investigations can be so unpleasant. I
can't imagine what it's like to be accused of such a thing, especially so soon after arriving in a new
nation.”

Mona froze. “So, you're treating it as a murder now, are you?”

“It's a route we're considering.”

“And you came to my shop to snoop around for evidence.”

The guard's expression dropped slightly. Apparently, Mona had hit the nail on the head. While a
part of her was alarmed that she was being investigated like this, it also told her that the guards had
little evidence against her if they were having to stoop to underhanded methods.

Taking a step forward, the guard said, “I'm here to help you. Why don't we talk it over somewhere,
just the two of us? I know a few nice spots around the city. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot
last time, and I just want to give you a hand.”

Mona couldn't hold back a snort. “I'm sure you do.”

“So, what do you think?”

“I think you're blocking the way to my shop,” said Mona simply.

The first hint of danger flickered across the man's expression. For a moment, Mona thought he was
going to keep pressing her or swing some kind of threat her way, but instead he started to walk
towards her, shoulders slumped like those of a child who'd just been denied something they
wanted.

“You need friends if you're going to survive here, girl,” he muttered as he passed Mona on the way
out of the alley.

She didn't respond. At this point, she just wanted him gone.

“Oh!” said the guard behind her in a tone that suggested he'd just remembered something.
“Speaking of friends, I managed to catch up with an old acquaintance yesterday. He's just moved
back here from Liyue, said that there's a famous astrologist who travels around Mondstadt and goes
by the name of Mona Megistus.”

Mona had a horrible feeling she knew where this was going, but still managed to keep a calm
facade. “What of it?”

In her peripheral vision, she saw the guard's smile return. “Nothing, really, except for one thing.
Rumour has it the Mona he knows has a Hydro Vision. You wouldn't happen to have one of those
on you, would you? Seems like an unfortunate position to be in, what with the Vision Hunt Decree
going on, and all.”

“Must be a different Mona Megistus,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Maybe,” said the guard. “You can tell me, you know. I'm here to help—”

As he spoke, something broke inside Mona. “How's your wife? The one who left you, I mean,” she
said, turning to face him head-on. “She and Tetsuya seem very happy together. Not that you'd
know, since the pair don't want anything to do with you.”

The guard's face turned the colour of beetroot. His mouth fell open, but if any words came out,
Mona didn't hear them, as she'd already strutted down the alley way and entered her shop. She
locked the door on the other side and leaned against it, her heart still pounding in her temples.
Perhaps it'd been reckless to tease the guard using his wife's affair, but in that moment, she'd just
wanted him to shut up.

And people say astrology is useless, she thought to herself bitterly.

It had been hard to explain her mood since leaving the Fatui hideout. One moment she'd be angry;
the next, she'd panic so hard it felt like her chest was being crushed. She'd resolved it by trying to
push the whole situation out of her mind, and as such had slipped into a kind of apathy that had
made the climb back up to the city feel like one long dream.

Now that she was alone, Mona felt those feelings from before creep up on her again. She closed
her eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to time her breaths to every fifth heartbeat, a technique her
master had once taught her. It half worked. Within a minute, her pulse had become less frantic, but
the sensation of dread remained, like a weight at the base of her stomach dragging her down.

It was just sex, she told herself. You don't owe him anything. You don't belong to him.

But the more she repeated those thoughts in her head, the more she found doubt worming its way
in. She remembered how she'd initiated the kiss, how she'd been unable to tell him to stop and
actually enjoyed his roughness towards the end. The fact she'd let it all happen disgusted her more
deeply than the act itself.

It was the heat of the moment, she thought. The room, the candles, the way Scaramouche had run
hand down her cheek... Not to mention he wasn't exactly unattractive, she grudgingly admitted.
Maybe it would have been easier to refuse him if he'd been as ugly on the outside as his
personality.
Still, it couldn't happen again. Ever.

Mona closed her eyes and sighed. Her whole body ached. When she lifted her sleeve to her nose,
she could smell him on the material. Grimacing, she pulled away from the door and started to
undress. By the time she'd reached the top of the stairs, she was naked, a trail of clothes in her
wake.

She needed a shower.

Since it was approaching early afternoon by the time Mona had washed and put on clean clothes, it
didn't seem worth it to open the shop, so she decided to head into the city to run some errands
instead. The walk would do well to clear her head, too.

First up was the post office, where she found two letters waiting for her. One bore the stamp of The
Steambird and the other she recognised straight away as being in Lisa's looping handwriting.

“Hey,” the man behind the counter called out as she was leaving, “you said Mona Megistus,
right?”

She nodded.

The man walked out of the door at the back and returned a moment later with a box the size of a
small child, which he placed on the counter with a grunt.

Mona's heart leaped. She rushed over and checked the label, as if there could be any doubt what it
was. The box contained her most essential astrological equipment she'd sent over from Mondstadt
before leaving. She lifted it off the counter and said to the man excitedly, “I wasn't expecting this
to arrive so soon.”

He grunted in response.

After dropping the box back at the shop, Mona headed towards the market street. It was busier
than she'd expected, bustling with midday shoppers and vendors hawking their wares. The smell of
fried food lingered in the air. When it hit Mona's nose, a pang of hunger stabbed her in the gut. No
wonder, she realised. She hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon.

She found the source of the scent, a cafe at the end of the street, and took a seat outside. Within
minutes, the waiter had brought her her order of coffee and yaki-gyoza. It felt strange spending
Mora on something as frivolous as this. Back when she'd been wandering the wilds, she'd foraged
for food and saved every coin she could get her hands on. The idea of blowing it all on an
overpriced cafe lunch would've been unspeakable.

Still, she supposed it couldn't hurt occasionally. The coffee warmed her from the inside out, and as
she picked apart the little fried dumplings on her plate, she was able to sit back and watch the city
pass by around her. A mother dragging her crying son behind her; a woman bartering with a
shopkeeper over the price of a kimono; a couple who walked along with linked arms, but refused to
look one another in the face. Countless people, each with their own problems, relationships and
dreams.
The thought relaxed Mona somewhat. If other people could survive in a nation like this, then so
could she. Once again, she found herself remembering something her master had told her: Great
astrologists we may be, but we're ants on a hill first and foremost. In other words, there was
nothing special about Mona's problems when everyone around her was suffering just the same.

Except how many people can say they've fucked a Harbinger to resolve a debt?

Mona felt her cheeks turning red again. It was a... unique predicament, for lack of a better word.
But it was over now. She'd done what she'd had to do, and now, providing he kept to his word,
Scaramouche would send her the money and that would be that. Problem solved.

She lowered her head and grimaced. She didn't need astrology to know that things rarely ever went
that smoothly, and with the streak of bad luck she'd been having recently, she wouldn't be surprised
if things took a nosedive yet again.

No, not luck... fate, she reminded herself. Everything in life happened for a reason. If she was
struggling now, it was because it had been written into the stars. All she had to do was have faith
that things would work themselves out as they were supposed to. Otherwise what was the point of
fate in the first place?

Dearest Mona,

I'm writing to you from my desk at the Mondstadt Library. It's been a rather slow day here, so
reading your letter has been the highlight by far. I'm overjoyed to hear you've arrived in Inazuma
safely! It's always seemed like such a beautiful nation in books and tales, and now you have the
privilege of living there. I must admit, I feel a little jealous... A joke, of course! No doubt if I end up
visiting myself one day, you'll be able to give me a VIP tour.

Mona held the letter Lisa had sent her above her head as she lay back on her futon that night. The
rest of it went on to recount the events that had happened in Mondstadt recently, including Klee
almost blowing up a section of the Knights' Headquarters when one of her bombs malfunctioned; a
birthday party for Rosaria at the cathedral, which she almost ended up missing due to oversleeping;
and a drunken fightfight at the Angel's Share that led to Diluc personally dragging the two patrons
out by the scruffs of their neck, an event that quickly became the talk of the town.

However, it was the last few lines before the sign-off that made Mona's heart clench the most.

We're all missing you here. I daresay you became as much a piece of this city in the short time you
were living with us as any of the residents who live here today. Do come and visit when you have
the time, okay?

All my love,

Lisa
Mona squeezed the letter to her chest and sighed. She'd been so busy with everything in Inazuma,
she hadn't realised just how much she missed Mondstadt. She'd never been homesick before,
mainly because she'd never had one place she'd considered her home. As a wanderer, she'd taken
pride in her ability to adapt to any new environment with the barest of resources. Still, there was no
denying the dull ache that grew the more she thought about the city with its high walls, charming
half-timbered buildings and constant gentle breeze.

Come to think of it, that was something she'd noticed here in Inazuma. Since that first stormy night
on the ship, the weather had hardly changed. There was no breeze, no clouds in the sky, just a
thick, lingering heat that felt close to suffocating at the worst times. According to Yoimiya, there
was an island to the west that suffered from constant rain, though it was off-limits to citizens thanks
to it being the front of the civil war. The fact didn't bother Mona. She had no interest of walking
into a battlefield.

Still, a light rain would be nice. A breeze, too, and... a slice of Mondstadt apple pie.

After placing Lisa's letter carefully back inside its envelope, Mona settled back onto her futon
again. She'd been tired when she'd settled down ten minutes ago, but now she felt wide awake once
more. She toyed with the idea of going for a walk under the stars, something she'd often done back
in Mondstadt to clear her mind when she couldn't sleep, until she realised she'd have to get dressed,
and dismissed the thought.

Drawing on her Vision and the moisture in the room, Mona materialised a small sphere of water
above her. It grew to the shape of a melon as she added to it, suspended in the air by her powers.
She twirled it about, stretched it into the shape of a tendril, a star, a flat disc, each shimmering in
the rays of moonlight that streamed through her window.

Even now, after years of possessing her Vision, she still found herself mesmerised by the beauty it
allowed her to create. There had been a time when she'd considered it no more than a trinket to
perform tricks with. Nowadays, she saw it for what it was: an invaluable astrological tool. She'd
lost count of the times it had saved her life, too. Mona was no fighter like Master Jean or strategist
like Kaeya, but she did know how to escape from a deadly situation, and nothing sent an
unsuspecting bandit flying like a torrent of water from nowhere.

It happened so quickly, Mona barely had time to register it. One moment, the water was floating
above her head. The next, it was crashing down onto her face. She sat bolt upright, soaked to the
chest and spluttering. In the distance, she could hear a hammering, like a fist on a door.

She'd been startled by the sound, that was all. A slip in her concentration, and nothing more. At
least, that was what she told herself as she rolled off her wet futon and scrambled to her feet.

“Coming!” she called out to the person who was still creating a racket outside.

She threw a dry shirt over shoulders, dived down the stairs and opened the door to see Yoimiya
standing there. Panic lit up her face.

“Mona, I'm so sorry to wake you up at this time, but I don't know what to do. I've just been told...
It's bad...”

She paused to take a breath, but Mona already knew what she was going to say.

“A Vision raid at the Kamisato Estate,” she whispered.

 Yoimiya nodded, and the single word that fell out of her mouth made Mona's blood run cold:
“Thoma.”

Chapter End Notes

I think we all need a cooldown after that last chapter - Mona, especially :') But don't
worry. Scaramouche might just be back in the next one. See you then!
 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

Oof, it feels like ages since I last updated this, though I think it's only been a week and
a half. Real life has been taking up a lot of time :') To make up for it, I think this is my
longest chapter yet! I've taken the time to plot this story up to the end, and without
spoiling things, the ending is not going to be a happy one (but not sad, either! Or
maybe it will be Who knows?). But that's ages away yet! In the meantime, I hope
you guys are enjoying the fic! Thank you so much for your comments, kudos and love
so far. It all makes my day when I'm dealing with shitty deadlines <3

Mona had never seen Yoimiya in such a state before.

They ran through the city streets together, hearts pounding, shoes hard on the stone ground. By the
time they approached the fireworks shop, Yoimiya's eyes were streaming with tears, though
whether that was from the panic or exertion, Mona wasn't sure.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing Yoimiya's wrist and bringing the pair of them to a halt. “Just take a
moment to breathe. Please.”

Yoimiya's eyes darted to the path and back, as if she were painfully conscious of every second they
were losing by standing here, but she did as Mona said and breathed out sharply.

“You haven't told me what's going on,” said Mona.

“R-right.” With shaking hands, Yoimiya wiped the tears from her eyes. Mona could tell from the
gesture alone that the panic she was feeling was the kind that ran deep, gripping you from the
inside out and making it impossible to think straight. “A messenger from the Kamisato Estate
arrived at the shop, said that the Tenryou Commission was there carrying out a raid. They'd already
seized one Vision when he'd left. I don't understand how... Th-they must have...”

As she dissolved into sobs again, Mona took her into her arms and squeezed her close. They were
alone out here, but she still felt overly-exposed standing in the middle of the street like this. She
nodded towards an alley between two buildings nearby. “This way.”

Once she'd dragged Yoimiya aside, Mona traced a circle in the air and summoned a constellation.
Relief swept through her when it appeared without a hitch.

“What's that?” asked Yoimiya, staring at the shimmering lights and lines that joined together in the
rough shape of a shield.

“Thoma's constellation,” said Mona. “He seems fine for now. I sense a little disturbance, but that
could just be emotional.”

“And Lady Ayaka?”

Mona nodded. Although she'd never met Ayaka before, it only took a few seconds for her to find a
constellation that overlapped with Thoma's. She waved her hand and the circle in front of her
morphed into a different shape, one that displayed the outline of a heron.
“She's shaken, but still has her Vision,” said Mona.

Very shaken, she added in her mind. Just holding the constellation in her hand, she found herself
overcome with a rush of sadness, as if Ayaka's emotion had managed to bleed into the stars
themselves.

“And the others?” Yoimiya insisted. “I don't know their names, but I think a couple of the servants
have Visions.”

“I'll have a look,” said Mona.

She searched around, navigating the stars like they were a map set out before her. Eventually, she
found something that made her frown. Not far from Thoma and Ayaka's constellations was a set of
stars that shone far less brightly than the others around them. When Mona tried to make them
appear in her circle, she found she couldn't get a proper hold, like there was a fog surrounding them
that prevented her from taking them into her grasp.

Yoimiya's face fell as she explained this to her in the simplest terms she could. “So, it's true. They
really have confiscated a Vision.”

“That's what it looks like.” Mona snapped her hand shut and the constellation disappeared. She
could probably have uncovered more if she'd searched deeper, but her head was far from the right
space to do so. There was something terrifying about the dulled-out constellation. She'd never seen
anything like that before.

The feeling of Yoimiya's hand gripping her wrist made her jump.

“Come on. It takes three hours to walk to the Kamisato Estate, but we should be able to make it in
less if we're quick.”

Mona nodded. “Lead the way.”

Mona could smell the panic in the air.

She'd sensed it for the last hour of their journey, the feeling of dread that had mounted the closer
she and Yoimiya had drawn to the Kamisato Estate. They'd hardly said a word to one another since
leaving the city, though that was probably thanks to the exhaustion of half-running, half-dragging
themselves from one side of the island to the other. Now that she'd spotted the Estate emerging
from between the trees ahead of her, Mona was ready to collapse.

A pair of figures stoof at the edge of the gate. One of them Mona recognised at once.

“Thoma!” The word was little more than a wail as it left Yoimiya's mouth. She sprinted forward
and leapt into the man's waiting arms.

“What are you doing here?” Thoma asked, shock painted across his face.

“The messenger came to get me,” said Yoimiya, pulling back so she could look him up and down.
“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
“I'm fine.” He grabbed her shoulders suddenly and looked at her with a sternness that couldn't have
been more at odds with his usual cheer. “You really shouldn't be here. You too, Mona. It's not
safe.”

“Are the Tenryou Commission still here?” Mona asked.

“No, but—”

“Then we're staying,” said Yoimiya in a voice so firm it shocked even Mona.

Thoma shot a look at his colleague, who nodded grimly. Then he sighed. Clearly, he already knew
this was a battle he couldn't win.

“Fine, you can stay, but I'm not sure there's much you can do.”

Mona followed him and Yoimiya through the gate and into the courtyard. Although it was almost
empty now, she could tell that it had been the site of a struggle recently. The energy still crackled
in the air like electricity. She ran her eyes over the handful of figures assembled in the sand garden
area to the right of the covered wooden bandstand. Two of them were guards standing idly by, the
third a woman around Mona's age who she recognised at once as Kamisato Ayaka. She was leaning
over a fourth figure on his hands and knees.

At first, Mona thought he was throwing up. Moving closer, she saw the situation was much worse.
He clutched his head in his hands, shaking and muttering under his breath, all while Ayaka tried to
coax some sense back into him.

She raised her head and looked at them. “Yoimiya.” When she turned her gaze to Mona, she found
herself gazing back into eyes the colour of soft, cloudy skies. “And you are...?”

“Mona Megistus.” The astrologist gave a bow of the head before turning her attention to the man
on the floor. Even at a glance, Mona could tell something was very, very wrong with him. It wasn't
just his Vision that was missing. It was as if a chunk of his soul, his very being, had been torn
away from him. She thought of the foggy constellation, the way the stars had slipped through her
fingers like grains of sand, and shivered.

Ayaka straightened up. “You shouldn't have come. This isn't a safe place right now.” Those soft
eyes turned glacial as she turned them accusingly towards Thoma, who raised his hands.

“You took the worst right out of my mouth, Milady.”

“We're here to help,” said Yoimiya. “Please.”

“Help.” Ayaka repeated the word in a scornful whisper. Then she lowered her head and placed a
hand against her temple. “My apologies. It's been a long night.”

That's putting it lightly, Mona thought. It couldn't be any earlier than four in the morning, and
judging by the dark spots under Ayaka's eyes, she hadn't seen a wink of sleep. On the contrary,
Mona felt physically fine aside from the muscle aches the run had left her with. Late nights
stargazing meant she that she was more than used to going long stretches without sleep.

The sound of scuffling made her look down. The man had gone from clutching his had to raking
his fingers through the sand beneath his feet. Without thinking, Mona dropped into a crouch in
front of him and caught his wrist. He looked at her hand on his then at her face, eyes wide with
panic.
“Wh-what...” The words sounded choked as they left his lips. “Who are...”

Before Mona could answer, he let out a yell and threw himself back on the sand, where he hugged
his knees to his chest and started to rock back and forth.

“He's been like this since the Tenryou soldiers left,” said Ayaka. “Hina, one of our guards, was the
same, but we managed to get her into her room.” She squeezed her jaw taut. “This should never
have happened.”

“Are you trouble, Lady Ayaka?” asked Yoimiya.

Ayaka shook her head. “I'm sure I'll receive a reprimand for harbouring Vision-holders in secret,
but they allowed me to keep mine, if that's what you mean. Thoma slipped through, as well. I had
him hide away when the soldiers arrived.”

A glance at Thoma showed the strain beneath his expression. Clearly, the order had been one he'd
been reluctant to follow.

“It'll be a couple of days before we find out just how much damage has been done, but the main
goal right now is to get everyone inside safely. I doubt the soldiers will return tonight,” mumbled
Thoma.

His eyes fell to the man weeping on the floor. He probably could have picked him up and carried
him into the building over his shoulder, but like the others, he seemed reluctant to lay his hands
upon him.

He's terrified, Mona thought. All of them are.

It took a while, but eventually, they managed to coax the man inside. He didn't go willingly,
struggling and mumbling nonsense as the guards guided him gently towards the doors. Ayaka
thanked them before heading after him. Yoimiya followed with the promise that she'd return
shortly.

Now that she was alone with Thoma under the bandstand, the courtyard felt deathly still around
Mona. She looked up at the housekeeper. He stood with one hand on the door frame, the other
massaging the bridge of his nose.

“You feel guilty,” said Mona. It wasn't a question. She could sense the emotion seeping from him
as clearly as smoke from a fire.

Instead of trying to deny it, Thoma looked back at her. “You would be, too. Protecting this estate is
my job, and all I did was hide in the basement like some scared little mouse.”

“It wasn't like you had a choice. If you'd lost your Vision, you'd be...” Mona paused. She had no
idea what to call the state the man they'd just led away had been in. She doubted he even knew his
name, let alone what was going on around him. The thought of Thoma taking his place made her
swallow. “You wouldn't be able to protect anyone.”

Thoma sighed and tapped his fingers agitatedly against the door frame. “You're right. I know
you're right. But if they'd touched Lady Ayaka...” His fingers tightened around the wood. “It's hard
not to feel useless when you did nothing to fight back, you know?”

Mona looked down at the floor. She'd never been much good at comforting people. She didn't
know what to do, what to say, whether she should approach the situation with logic or just offer a
shoulder to cry on like Yoimiya would.
Finally, she decided upon reaching out and rubbing Thoma's shoulder. He looked at her hand, and
for a moment, Mona worried she'd done something wrong. Then he sighed again, placed his own
hand on her head and ruffled her dark hair like she was some kind of dog.

“Sorry. Here I am complaining when two of my friends had their Visions taken away. Hardly the
worst night out of all of us, huh?”

All at once, Mona felt guilty for having talked him down. He had a right to complain. She'd
probably feel the same if she were forced to stand by while her friends were in danger. Not that
she'd ever been in that position before.

“You weren't useless,” she muttered. “And you did help. We wouldn't be here otherwise, would
we?”

Thoma's eyes flew wide. “How did you...” He stopped himself as he realised. A hint of his usual
humour returned to his face. “Oh. Of course. How long have you known?”

“Not since I arrived at the estate, actually,” said Mona. She should've realised earlier that Thoma
had been the one to send the messenger to the city, but she'd been so busy running and trying not to
panic that the insight had only come to her when she'd seen him there by the gate.

Shaking his head, Thoma muttered, “It was stupid of me to bring Yoimiya here. I didn't expect
she'd ask you to come, too. At least Lady Ayaka seems grateful for the company. She's usually...
friendlier than this. More relaxed. I'm sorry you had to meet her at such a bad time.”

Mona waved her hand. It seemed like the least important thing to worry about right now.

“In any case, thank you for coming. It means a lot, really.”

“Well, you did help me clear out my shop,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Let's just say we're
even now.”

Mona was sitting at the top of the cliffs a minute's walk from the estate, legs dangling over the
edge as she looked out at the sea, when she heard footsteps behind her. A moment later, Yoimiya
took her place at her side.

“Quite a drop,” she said flatly.

Mona looked down at her feet. A grassy ledge jutted out twenty feet or so beneath them, and then
it was a sheer drop to the beach below.

“I like high places,” she said. “They're the best spots to see the stars from.”

“You'll probably like the Grand Narukami Shrine, then,” said Yoimiya, pointing up to one of the
sharp mountains on her left. Mona had been wondering what the building, which was built beside a
huge tree surrounded by an ethereal purple glow, was supposed to be.

“We have a tree like that in Mondstadt,” she mused. “It's where Vennessa, one of our legendary
heroes, ascended to Celestia after founding the Knights of Favonius.”
Yoimiya snorted. “I've heard of the Knights.” Then she added bitterly, “Sometimes I wish we had
an organisation like that. You know, a group who protects the people instead of a set of ideals
handed down by a malicious Archon.”

Mona didn't have the heart to tell her that the 'ideals' the Knights followed had actually been set out
by their own Archon; then again, Barbatos was renowned for his pursuit of freedom, not the
confiscation of Visions from his citizens.

“Why is she doing it?” asked Mona. “Why the Vision Hunt Decree?”

Yoimiya bent one of her legs so that she could rest an arm on it. Like Ayaka, there were bags under
her eyes. Mona couldn't blame her. They'd been up all night, and the horizon in front of them was
glowing pink with the first sign of dawn. Even Mona was starting to feel sluggish.

“The Raiden Shogun has her own version of eternity. In her eyes, Visions threaten that, so she has
them taken away and inlaid on that statue outside the Tenshukaku. You've probably seen it.”

Mona had, but only from a distance. The statue of the kneeling Raiden Shogun bore an eerie
similarity to the effigy of Barbatos that stood before the Mondstadt Cathedral.

“Does she think that the Vision-holders are going to band together and overthrow her, or
something?”

“Who knows?” said Yoimiya in a tone that suggested she'd already thought this subject through
countless times. She pulled her Vision out from her pocket and stared down at it. The red gem
shimmered in the dawn light. “Our Visions hold us to our ambitions, and ambition is what moves
us forward. Maybe she thinks that if she removes that ambition, it'll stop the nation from
advancing. We'll be trapped in some kind of twisted eternity with everybody just doing the same
thing over and over.”

“Kind of makes them seem like a curse when you put it that way.”

Yoimiya grimaced and replaced the gem in her pocket. “You saw what happened to that servant.
The soldiers ripped away his entire will, his very purpose to live. Maybe it was wrong of me to
bring you here, but I wanted you to see what's happening to this country and its people. What the
Raiden Shogun is doing to us.”

As if Mona could forget the sight of the servant cowering in the sand. The image might as well
have been branded onto the inside of her skull. She'd never thought of Visions as being a
manifestation of one's ambitions before. To her, the stars represented fate, and fate was something
that couldn't be changed, no matter how hard you wished against it.

But maybe that was the whole point. Maybe Visions were granted by the Archons precisely
because of a person's ambitions, and fate was the force that bound them to it. For Mona, her life
ambition was to deepen her understanding of astrology, become famous and ultimately uncover the
truths hidden in this world. Her Vision certainly aided her in that. Without it, she wouldn't be able
to perform hydromancy. And while the nature of astrology prevented her from looking at her own
constellation, she was sure her actions were bound by fate as much as everyone else.

“I'm glad you brought me along,” said Mona. “I'm glad you made me see this for myself.”

Yoimiya shuffled a little on the spot, as if she were uncomfortable suddenly. “There was another
reason, too. I spoke to Ayaka. She told me that she'd had to negotiate with the Tenryou soldiers
from taking the two Vision-holders away.”
Mona didn't have to ask to know what she was implying. Her throat felt dry. “To torture them.”

Yoimiya nodded. “It wouldn't be the first time it's happened. The Commission relies on tip-offs to
seek out Vision-holders. When they don't have any leads, they take matters into their own hands. I
couldn't let that happen to anyone here. Especially not Thoma. He's such a gentle soul. He'd never
sell out his fellow Vision-holders, but the thought of him being put through something like that...”
She raised a hand to her mouth to stifle tears.

“So you brought me here in case we needed to fight.”

Normally, Mona would've been angry that she'd been roped into something like this without her
consent, but for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to think that way. No doubt it was because
of the night they'd had. Yoimiya was still clearly in some form of mild shock, and Mona had
received a new slant on Visions that would surely plague her thoughts for the coming days.

If her friends were in trouble, would she stand and fight? Her Vision was one of the only things she
had here in Inazuma. Would she risk trouble with the law for the sake of people she'd barely
known a week, knowing now what would be taken away from her if she failed?

She just hoped that was a decision she'd never have to make.

It was well into the morning by the time Mona arrived back in Inazuma City. Yoimiya had chosen
to sleep at the Kamisato Estate, leaving her to make the journey back by herself. Mona didn't mind.
She knew the way by now, and the walk straightened out her muddled mind. It also made her
realise just how exhausted she was.

Walking through the shop door, Mona wanted nothing more than to trudge upstairs and collapse in
her futon, but she knew that wouldn't do. She hadn't opened the shop yesterday thanks to her...
business with Scaramouche. She couldn't afford to do that again.

Before opening her shop to the public, Mona ventured into the basement, found an old duplicate
chart with a plain white back and scribbled the following words onto it with thick black ink:

Mona Megistus is interested in buying YOUR curios for MORA!

Then she took it outside and pinned it to the wall beneath the sign Thoma had given to her.

That should get people through the door, she thought to herself.

The plan half-worked. After a slow first couple of hours, during which she almost fell asleep over
the counter (again), things finally started to pick up. However, she quickly realised that the
majority of what people were bringing in was, to her disappointment, utter rubbish.

“This bag of tools has been sitting in my mother's attic for the last ten years. How much will you
buy it for?” asked one man.
“Is this jar of dandelion heads worth anything?” said another woman.

“How much for this?”

Mona glared at the object the young boy was waving in front of her face. “That's a pebble.”

“No, it isn't. It's a magic astrological rock.” The boy smirked and sipped from the cup in his other
hand.

“You know, you shouldn't be drinking in here...” Mona stopped herself as she caught a whiff of the
liquid in the cup. She reached into her register and pulled out a hundred Mora coin. The boy's eyes
followed it like they were glued. “Tell you what. I'll buy your magic rock off you if you tell me
where you got that coffee from. Sounds like a deal, right?”

Ten minutes later, Mona was walking back to the shop with a coffee cup in each hand.

“Sorry, I've been on a break,” she said to the man waiting in the alley as she approached the door.
“If you can just wait a few minutes, I'll be able to see you.”

The man said nothing, but didn't move either. Frowning, Mona placed one cup on the floor,
unlocked the door and walked in.

“Are you Mona?” the man barked behind her.

She turned around and looked at him properly for the first time. His dark coat and blond hair
seemed completely out of touch with Inazuman fashion. Suddenly, she realised with a jolt who was
talking to.

“Oh,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “Are you here to deliver my Mora?”

The Fatui agent nodded and handed her a package wrapped in paper and tied together with string. It
felt far too soft and light to contain money, but Mona took it into the shop, placed it on the counter
with her drinks and started to unwrap it. Inside was a flat leather pouch, the same kind that
Scaramouche had presented to the Outlander Affairs Agency when she'd first arrived. She almost
popped off the button in her haste to get into it and pull out the paper inside.

Her heart fell.

“Wait,” she called out to the agent, who was just leaving the alley as she flung over the door.
“There's been some kind of mistake.”

“How so?”

She waved the cheque by her head. “Twenty thousand Mora? That doesn't even cover a tenth of the
debt.”

The agent shrugged. “I'm just the messenger here, but if the Balladeer decided on that, then I doubt
it's a mistake.”

Mona clenched her teeth. “Well, you can tell your boss to choke on his Mora.”

“Tell him yourself,” said the agent with the subtlest of smirks before he disappeared into the street.
Mona had to resist the urge to screw up the cheque and throw it after him.

She stormed back into the shop, kicking the door shut behind her as she did so. Twenty thousand
Mora was a lot. She knew that. In any other case, she'd have been delighted to receive it. But with
the sheer size of her debt and what she'd been promised, it felt like she was being slapped in the
face.

She should have expected Scaramouche to pull some kind of bullshit like this. He clearly wanted
her to go and argue with him for the rest. Or maybe he wanted to draw this relationship out like
some kind of sick business transaction.

Well, Mona wasn't having it.

She'd been so distracted by the Mora that she forgot there was another half to the package. Lying in
the paper was a neatly-folded black garment. Mona lifted it up to find that it was a dress. The
material felt gauzy and expensive, like silk but a little thicker. When she turned it around, she saw
that it had a plunging backline and a slit up one side of the leg.

There was a note pinned to the collar:

I shall pick you up at nine. Wear this.

Mona breathed out a long, shaky sigh. “I'm going to fucking kill him.”

Nine rolled all too quickly, and just like clockwork, Mona heard a knock at her door. On any other
occasion, she would have been happy to ignore it, knowing who it was. This time, she couldn't
answer fast enough.

“Twenty thousand Mora,” she snapped, pushing the door open.

The Harbinger raised an eyebrow. No doubt it was far from the greeting he'd been expecting.

“You're welcome,” he said simply.

“Where's the rest of it?”

Scaramouche shrugged. “In the bank.”

As Mona opened her mouth to argue more, he cut in: “Besides, since when did I say I'd give you
all the Mora at once?”

“You told me you'd buy my debt.”

“Mm, I did. But it is such a large debt. You couldn't possible expect me to just pay it all off with a
snap of my fingers, could you?”

Mona allowed a hint of sarcasm to bleed into her voice. “And here I was thinking money was no
object to the Fatui.”

Scaramouche laughed softly, that fake jingle that had become synonymous with a warning bell.
Gesturing to the alley around him, he said, “This hardly seems the place for such a discussion. If
you're going to bitch at me, then can you at least do it over the dinner reservation I've organised?”

Mona was too shocked to snap back. “Dinner?” She looked him up and down. Though it was hard
to see properly in the dark alley, she could tell he was wearing the same kimono he had been last
time she'd met him.

Her eyes narrowed. “I'm not going to dinner with you.”

“Well, I'm not talking to you, then.”

With that, he made to leave. He'd gotten a couple of steps down the alley when Mona called out,
“Wait.”

The shine in his eyes as he turned told her that he'd anticipated her reaction. “Yes?”

Mona sighed. It isn't like he can do anything to me in public.

“I'll go with you. Just give me a few minutes.”

Scaramouche smiled. “I had a feeling you'd say that. Oh, and Mona.”

He caught her wrist just before she could disappear into the shop, forcing her to look back over her
shoulder. The pitch of his voice dropped a little. “Wear the dress.”
 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

They walked side by side up the street in silence. Keeping her eyes straight ahead while
maintaining a comfortable distance from Scaramouche was a task in itself for Mona. A couple of
times, she found herself shooting a glance at him, only to quickly look back and scowl when he
caught her. The last thing she wanted was for people to think they were some kind of couple.

“That's quite impressive, actually,” he said at last.

“What are you talking about?” Mona snapped.

“The way you're walking. You're putting so much effort into pretending we're strangers, I don't
think you've realised our strides are perfectly in sync.”

“They are?” Mona looked down at the ground. Sure enough, her footsteps fell in almost perfect
timing with Scaramouche's. She was so horrified by the revelation that she didn't notice his hand
reaching out and grabbing her until it was too late.

“Hey, what are you doing?” she snapped, drawing the gazes of several passing people. She tried to
pull away, but Scaramouche's grip was like a vice. He pulled her into her his side, slipped his arm
around hers and latched them together.

“I buy you clothes and I'm about to take you out for dinner. The least you can do is pretend to be
having a nice time.”

Mona almost snorted. As if her enjoyment of the evening was of any importance to him. He just
wanted to manipulate her further. The dress was testament to that: the back plunged far more
deeply than she'd realised at first, and the leg slit came up so high she felt like she was showing her
underwear with every step. Her normal style was hardly modest, but this was a step too far.

“Where are we even going?” she asked, looking around. They'd passed the market street and its
restaurants a while back. The area of the city they were in now seemed far more expensive, the
buildings a little further apart and the people more distinguished. Up ahead, the Statue of the
Omnipresent God loomed against the night sky. Mona couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down
her back as she thought of the events of the previous night.

“You're disgracefully impatient,” said Scaramouche. “Luckily, we're already there.”

Mona looked up ahead to the building he was gesturing at. It looked to be a teahouse, similar to the
handful they'd passed already. Soft orange light spilled from the windows onto the stones outside,
and the hanging sign above the door read Yamanara Teahouse.

She gritted her teeth as they walked up to the doorman. He didn't look like a Fatui, but then again,
neither did Scaramouche at the moment. He nodded to the pair of them respectfully.

“I have a reservation,” said Scaramouche.

“Indeed you do, Mr Balladeer,” said the man, “and might I say what lovely company you have
with you this evening.”
It could have been Mona's imagination, but she swore she felt something unpleasant prickle across
Scaramouche's skin, his fingers digging a little more deeply into her arm.

“Just show us to our table,” he snapped.

With another bow, the man slid open the door to reveal a small reception counter. The waitress
behind it greeted them in the same overly-polite manner before taking them along a corridor lined
with small rooms. Mona had expected a large open area with tables, as was normal in Liyue and
Mondstadt, but it appeared that each room was its own little guest area. She glimpsed couples and
groups alike dining around low tables as she passed.

“Here we are,” said the waitress, coming to a stop and pulling the door across. The room on the
other side was empty, lit by floor lamps with a traditional screen covering the back wall. “I'll be
back with some drinks in just a moment. If there's anything else I can get for you in the meantime,
please don't hesitate to call for me.”

Scaramouche's only response was a grunt. After taking her shoes off, Mona followed him into the
room, where he sat down on side of the table and gestured for her to do the same. She copied his
pose, legs folded beneath her with her hands resting on her thighs, back straight as a board. It only
took a couple of seconds to realise she was soon going to regret it.

She stared at Scaramouche across the table. She'd been so angry about the money, she'd almost let
it slip her mind that this was the first time they'd seen one another since her visit to the Fatui
hideout. The warm glow of the lanterns and the tatami on the floor reminded her of that room. He
even seemed to be wearing the same kimono, until she realised that this one was a dark green
instead of purple.

“A teahouse, hm?” she said, looking around to hide the heat rising in her cheeks. “Doesn't seem
like your kind of place.”

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to indulge in nice things because you see me
as a villain?”

The question made Mona think back to the painting she'd watched him do back in the hideout. The
hobby seemed far too delicate for someone like him, but he'd managed to create something
beautiful nonetheless. The same could be said for his appearance. His lips, his long eyelashes, his
pale, unblemished cheeks – his entire face looked like it'd been carved by the Archons themselves.
Who could have known it hid such ugliness underneath?

The waitress returned with a tray of drinks, which she placed on the table between them. To Mona's
surprise, they were having sake.

“Wait,” she said to the woman before she could disappear. “I didn't realise we'd be having alcohol.
May I order some tea?”

“Of course.”

She could feel Scaramouche's eyes boring into her before she even turned back. “You know it's
rude to refuse someone's generosity like that, don't you?”

“Do you know what I find rude?” Mona fixed him with the most scathing stare she could.
“Withholding a sum of money that was explicitly promised to me.”

“That's getting rather tedious now, don't you think?”

“Actually, I think it's a very interesting topic that we should discuss in great detail,” said Mona,
switching to a cross-legged position now that her legs were starting to ache.

Seeing that he wasn't going to win this one, Scaramouche shrugged and began to pour the sake into
cups. He placed the first one on her side of the table. Mona made a point of pushing it into the
corner away from her. It wasn't that she didn't like the drink – she'd certainly had enough of it that
first night with Yoimiya. She just wanted to keep her wits about her in front of the Harbinger, the
same way she would around a venomous cobra.

“There's nothing to discuss,” Scaramouche said. “I haven't lied to you. I told you I'd pay your debt
if you gave yourself to me.”

“Which I did,” said Mona.

Scaramouche snorted humourlessly. “Opening your legs once isn't worth two hundred and forty-
three thousand Mora.”

Mona's hands curled into fists underneath the table. “Don't talk to me like that.”

Apparently unfazed by the tone of her voice, Scaramouche lifted his cup until it was level with his
chin and swirled the sake around. “In any case, I have no intention to stop paying you, providing
you continue to prove your worth to me.” He took a sip.

Mona felt her face turning redder and redder by the second. “You know there are professionals
who provide those kinds of services, don't you?”

“Mm. But I don't want them. I want you.”

The confession might have been romantic were it not for the circumstances.

“Because I'm 'interesting', right?” she said with a scowl.

Scaramouche leaned forward. “Well, it's certainly not your personality or your looks—”

The cupful of sake hit him straight in the face. Mona glared at him from across the table, her hand
trembling around the now-empty drinking vessel.

Slowly, Scaramouche pulled back and wiped the alcohol off his face with the sleeve of his kimono.
A little had splashed onto his hair and shoulders, though there hadn't been enough in the cup to
soak him completely. To Mona's surprise, he didn't look annoyed. In fact, there was a smile on his
lips.

“Sir?”

Mona turned her head to see the waitress standing in the doorway, a look of shock on her face.
Scaramouche waved her over.

“No need to fret. My companion was just a little clumsy with her drink.”

The waitress frowned as she placed a pot of tea and two cups in front of Mona, but said nothing
more about it, clearly deterred by the strained silence between them and the cup still in Mona's
hand.

“Are you ready to order yet?” she asked.

“The sharing menu,” said Scaramouche.

“Of course,” said the waitress. She couldn't hurry out of the room fast enough.

“I didn't see a menu board,” Mona muttered once they were alone again.

“That's because there isn't one. This teahouse serves only the freshest food, so the menu changes
daily and is up to the chef's discretion. Not like the rubbish served up in those so-called restaurants
further down the city.”

Mona gritted her teeth. As someone who'd spent years of her life foraging the wilds for her next
meal, there were few things she could stand less than food snobbery.

“Don't I get a say in what we have?” She felt like she was just being awkward at this point, but he
was obviously going out of his way to insult her once again, so it felt only right to challenge him.

“Was there something in particularly you wanted?” he asked, then quickly added, “Not that it
matters, since you'll probably end up throwing it at me.”

“Probably,” Mona mumbled, making a point of pouring the tea from the pot slowly into her cup.
The steam alone told her it was hot enough to scald.

To her surprise, it only took a few minutes for the first round of food to arrive. Two returns visits
by the waitress later, the table was full. Mona looked over the spread in front of her with wide eyes:
plates of dumplings, meat skewers, a whole fish, steamed vegetables, even a couple of local
specialities she recognised from Liyue like fried tofu.

She stared at Scaramouche as he picked up his bowl of rice and started to top it with meat and
vegetables. She noticed he only took enough food for a couple of bites at a time and held his bowl
close to his face as he ate instead of leaving it on the table.

“Is there a reason you're not eating?” he snapped.

Grudgingly, Mona picked up her own bowl and placed a couple of tofu pieces on top. It did smell
good, she had to admit, and when she bit into the first soft, fluffy chunk, the explosion of flavour
made her heart jump.

“Well?” asked Scaramouche. “How is it?”

“It's all right,” said Mona with a shrug. No matter how good the food was, the fact it had been
bought by him soured the taste somewhat.

They ate most of their meal in silence. Mona, glad for a distraction from the Harbinger, kept her
attention on her food, pausing only to reach across the table for more or refill her tea cup.
Whenever her eyes did wander up to Scaramouche, she'd find him staring at her from over his
bowl, as if he were silently appraising her every move, ready to speak up should her manners slip.

Oh, the irony.

Once she'd had as much as she could stomach, Mona placed her bowl down on the table and
pushed it away. To her surprise, she hadn't spilled anything down herself with her chopsticks. No
doubt it was down to the pressure of being watched like a hawk.

Scaramouche craned his neck. “Finished already?”

“I've had enough,” Mona said. It wasn't a complete lie. She wasn't used to eating such large
portions at once. Judging from the amount still on the table, they'd have a lot left over. She hoped it
wouldn't go to waste.

“I'd have thought someone like you would hesitate to turn your nose up at a meal like this,” said
Scaramouche.

Mona narrowed her eyes. “I told you I've had enough."

With a contemplative hum, Scaramouche poured the last of the sake into his cup, leaned back and
took a sip. He'd managed to work his way through the entire carafe during the meal, but didn't
seem anywhere close to drunk. Mona wondered whether he had an exceedingly high alcohol
tolerance, or was just able to hide its effects well.

“At least try the fish,” he said. “You haven't touched it yet.”

Mona pursed her lips, but eventually snatched up her chopsticks, scooped up a portion of the pale
flesh and shoved it into her mouth.

“It's all right,” she muttered again to the expectantly waiting Scaramouche.

He snorted softly. “'All right'. I bring you to a place like this, and that's all you have to say.”

Mona felt the first flash of anger, real anger, shoot through her. “You forced me to come here.
You know that.”

“Strange. I don't remember holding a knife to your neck.”

He's trying to rile you up, Mona told herself. Don't give him that satisfaction.

Yet the longer she stared at Scaramouche's smug face, the more she found herself wanting to
argue. It was always the same. Something about him made her feel like she constantly had to prove
herself, and not in the good way.

There was only one thing left for her to do.

“You're right,” she said. Then she pushed back from the table and stood up. “Bye.”

With no knife to her neck, there was nothing keeping her here. Scaramouche certainly didn't call
after her. She walked down the corridor, passed the waitress, who she thanked, and made her way
out into the night.

Only when she felt the cool air on her face did Mona realise how suffocating the atmosphere in the
teahouse had been. How she'd managed to spend so long under the heat of Scaramouche's gaze, she
had no idea. She marched down the street past late-night shops and open-front restaurants filled
with laughing diners. She tried not to look at them. At this point, she just wanted to go home.

She was approaching the centre of the city when she heard footsteps behind her. She spun just in
time for a hand to grab her by the wrist and jerk her to a stop.

“Get off me,” she snapped, wrenching herself free.

Considering he'd had to settle the bill at the teahouse and presumably run to catch up with her,
Scaramouche's face should've been flushed with exhaustion, but he looked as pale as always.

“Don't you ever run away from me again,” he hissed.

“Or what?” Mona snapped. It didn't feel right to raise her voice in a public place like this, but there
 was hardly anyone around and she was past the point of caring, anyway. “You don't own me.
Parade me around like some kind of pet all you want, but I'll never belong to you.”

She grabbed a fistful of the dress in her hand and squeezed. The material suddenly felt too smooth,
too alien, against her skin. “I'll give it back to you. The Mora. Every fucking coin. It doesn't matter
anymore. I-I'll go back to Mondstadt...”

She'd only been thinking out loud, but now that she'd said it, she let herself entertain that fantasy
for a moment. Back in Mondstadt, she'd had a home, a circle of support, security. All the things
she'd given up to come here.

The rush of emotions hit her with crushing force.

“I want to go home,” she whispered.

The world started to shake around her. Before she could stop herself, Mona was crying. She
couldn't remember the last time she'd let loose like this. All the feelings she'd kept inside herself,
the worries and the fear she'd kept hidden away from the world, bubbled to the surface in the form
of hot tears that streamed down her face.

She hated it here. The debt, the Vision Hunt Decree, the murder charge, but none more than the
Fatui. She hated the fact that Scaramouche was right: she couldn't survive here without him. That
was why he sought to manipulate her.

Because he can.

A pair of hands caught her cheeks and tilted her face up. The next thing she knew was warm lips
on her own. Scaramouche kissed her deeply, relentlessly, oblivious to the fact they were standing
in the middle of the street. Mona's mind screamed at him to push her away, but when he wrapped a
hand in her hair to keep her from doing so, she decided it wasn't worth the effort. Her anger had
burnt through her, leaving her exhausted and pliant in his hands.

He broke off and, with her face still held in place, whispered against her cheek, “I can help you.
I've told you this before. As long as you're with me, I won't let anything happen to you. Do you
understand?”

It felt easier for Mona to nod than argue.

As Scaramouche claimed her lips again, she tried to focus her spinning mind. Oh, she understood
all right, even in her state. Of course he wouldn't let anything happen to her, not while he
considered her his. The threat couldn't have been more obvious: Stay with me and I'll protect you.
Leave me and you'll lose everything.

But who would protect her from him?

There was no way out, Mona realised. She couldn't win.

“I hate you,” she breathed into his lips.

Scaramouche released her hair, pulled her into his arms and muttered, in a voice that sounded like
he was smiling, “I know.”

Chapter End Notes

I submitted my last assignment before the holidays today, so I am officially free for
the next few weeks to write and clown about! Next chapter will be a spicy one, so
strap in

Also, please check out this gorgeous fanart of Mona's dress by the super talented
@sammirlyd_, who's also the beta reader for the Russian translation of this fic!
 Chapter 11
Chapter Notes

Tags have been updated! Please take a look and skip if any of the things make you
uncomfortable (mainly orgasm denial, degradation, bondage and threats of non-con,
even though the sex itself is consensual).

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Dottore,

I must say what a delight it was to receive your letter. The opportunity to work alongside someone
as talented and revered as yourself is one I wouldn't pass up for the world. Please know that as I
write these words with my right hand, I am vigorously fanning the excitement from my flustered
cheeks with my left.

In case you couldn't tell, I'm being sarcastic; but, for the sake of moving our mission along with as
little friction as possible, I am willing to continue our correspondence in a matter befitting civil
colleagues. To answer your question, yes, I did find the astrologist. Her name is Mona Megistus
and she's set up shop in Inazuma City. I've decided to observe her from a distance for the time
being instead of rushing in and risking her catching wind of the plan.

Rest assured I shall keep you updated with events as they happen. Do not waste my time by writing
to me before then. Having to pick my way through your illegible scrawl makes me itch.

Scaramouche

Mona hit the futon back first. The figure that covered her wasted no time in sealing her lips,
groaning softly as his tongue flicked against hers. Scaramouche slid a hand up her bare thigh,
cupped the area behind her knee and pushed her leg back, using the extra leverage to pin her more
firmly underneath him.

It was all happening again. Mona had promised herself she wouldn't do this a second time – the
first had been enough of a mistake as it was. But she needed this. It was hard to explain why
exactly that was, just like it was impossible to explain why she returned his kiss with such
eagerness when the feeling of his lips against hers made her want to scream; why she wrapped her
free leg around his waist and dug her fingers into his scalp when all she wanted, deep down, was to
push him away.

It felt strange having him here in her bedroom. Since arriving in Inazuma, it had been her one safe
place, her sacred ground. Now that Scaramouche was here, those grounds had been desecrated.
How fittingly symbolic, given what was going to come.

As if reading her thoughts, Scaramouche broke the kiss to whisper, “I've fucked you once.
Consider that an icebreaker. This time, I am going to absolutely ravish you.”

Mona's heart leapt in her chest. Even for Scaramouche, a man who didn't mince his words, it was a
shockingly frank statement that had heat pooling at the base of her stomach.

Back at the Fatui base, he'd taken his time undressing her, peeling away the various layers of her
clothing before finally removing his kimono. Now, he reached straight for the cord around his sash
and untied it with one hand, then removed the sash itself. Both fell away easily enough, leaving
Mona to run her fingertips up his pale chest.

He slipped a hand beneath her neckline, grabbed the cup of her bra and the dress in one and pulled
them down, exposing one of her breasts. He pressed his lips to her hardening nipple, caught it in
his mouth and sucked. Mona breathed in sharply. The pressure on her sensitive bud sent waves of
warmth through her, only faltering when she felt his teeth graze her skin.

“N-no...” she gasped.

Scaramouche released her nipple with a soft, wet pop and glared up at her. Then he bit down into
the skin at the top of her breast and pulled on it painfully before letting it snap back.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he growled.

Mona stared at him with wide eyes. Her palm met his face before she'd even realised what she'd
done.

Scaramouche sat back and raised a hand to his reddening cheek. He barely looked surprised at her
reaction, almost as if he'd been expecting it. A part of Mona wondered whether it had been part of
some larger test to see how far he could push her boundaries before she'd retaliate.

“It appears those hands are going to be a problem,” he said. “Let's get them out of the way, shall
we?”

“What are you talking about?” Mona hissed, though she already had a fairly good idea. Sure
enough, when Scaramouche reached for the cord that had held his sash in place, she shot bolt
upright.

“Absolutely not,” she snapped.

Scaramouche smirked. “How can you hate something you haven't even tried?”

While he had a point, Mona couldn't think of a worse situation than relenting the slither of control
she had to a man who'd just bitten her as punishment for saying no to him. Still, she couldn't deny
the way her eyes were drawn to the cord clutched in his hands. The traitorous thought followed
soon after.

I wonder what it would feel like.

How would it feel to have her wrists tied together? To have all power taken away from her and be
rendered helpless as he had his way with her? It was a concept she'd toyed with before in her
darkest moments. Now that she was actually faced with the opportunity, she felt a thrill run
through her like a shiver.

She let out a long breath. “If, and only if I say yes, you have to promise me you'll stop if I tell you
to.”
“Have I been anything less than a perfect gentleman so far?” said Scaramouche. His smile told her
he already knew he'd won.

With trembling hands, Mona slipped the dress over her head and unclipped her bra, exposing her
nakedness to him. A small bruise had already started to bloom where he'd bitten her. Scaramouche
reached out and ran his thumb across it in what might have been a tender gesture had he not been
the one the put it there in the first place.

“Put your hands together,” he said softly.

Mona obeyed, squeezing her wrists together in front of her chest. Scaramouche raised the cord and
started to wrap it around them slowly, his dark eyes flicking between his hands and Mona's face.

“Have you ever done this before?” she mumbled, if only to distract herself from the heat rising in
her cheeks.

Scaramouche snorted. “Jealous?”

“Don't be ridiclous,” Mona snapped quickly enough to destroy the credibility of her claim.

“I don't blame you for wanting to think yourself special,” he said. “After all, you do possess a
certain... innocent charm that I don't dislike.”

“You think I'm innocent?” Now it was Mona's turn to look smug. “I've been with others before. Of
course you're not the—”

Her words turned into a cry as Scaramouche jerked the cord, then tied the ends together in a knot.
He slipped two fingers beneath the bonds and to test their tightness. Apparently satisfied, he placed
a kiss to Mona's knuckles.

“Sounds to me like you're just giving me a free pass to be rough with you.”

Before she could open her mouth to protest, Scaramouche grabbed her by the throat and squeezed
hard enough to make stars flash at the corners of her vision. He pulled her close and whispered, “If
you ever slap me again, I'll make you wish you hadn't been born. Now, lie back.”

He let Mona go and shoved her back onto the futon. His lips met her bare stomach, hands seizing
her hips hard enough to have her arching her back up into him, and ah, there it was. That delicious
pain, the warmth of his skin against hers. That was why she hadn't been able to deny him at the
door of her shop or push him away when they'd been kissing in the street. His touch repulsed her,
but it was real, and it demanded her attention as keenly as a knife wound. Her other troubles
couldn't have felt further away.

Is that why I'm doing this? Mona thought. As a distraction?

It certainly felt better than admitting she liked it.

She didn't get to ponder much further, however, as she felt something brush against her inner thigh.
Scaramouche knelt between her legs, his face just inches from her heat. His kimono still hung off
his shoulders. Mona wondered whether he was going to take it off or leave it as it was.

“Excited, aren't you?” he mused, staring down at her underwear. Mona didn't need her hands to
measure how wet she was. She could already feel it soaking through the material. “Tell me, did
that happen before or after I tied you up?”
Mona bit her lip.

Seeing he wasn't going to get an answer, Scaramouche laughed and pulled her underwear off her
legs. He leaned down again.

Mona gasped as the tip of his tongue met her clit. He swirled it around a couple of times, then
dipped lower and licked a stripe up her opening, lapping up her wetness. Mona squeezed her eyes
shut.

“What's wrong?” Scaramouche asked with another laugh. “Can't bear to look at me?”

When Mona didn't respond again, he gave a sigh that tinged on frustration. “If you'd like, I can turn
you over and bury your face in the pillow. That way you wouldn't have to see me at all.”

“No,” Mona blurted out at last. “Keep going. It feels good.”

“If you insist.”

Scaramouche bent over to lick at her clit again, teasing little gasps from Mona's lips. It felt strange
with the cord around her wrists. She longed to bury her hands in his hair or grab onto the sheets, but
with her hands suspended between her breasts, there was nothing she could do but lie back and try
to hold her noises in.

“There is a second option, of course,” said Scaramouche. “I could always blindfold you.”

Mona stiffened.

“We could make a game of it.” His fingers glided over her folds, tracing the outline of her opening.
He slipped two of them inside her, pushing harder when she resisted and drawing a whine from her.
“I could blindfold you, gag you, cut off your senses one by one and turn you into a little doll for
me to enjoy at my leisure.”

Slowly, he pumped his fingers in and out of her. Mona clenched and unclenched her fists, the cord
digging painfully into her skin.

“Don't want... that...” she mumbled between gasps. It was bad enough that he'd managed to
convince her into letting him tie her hands together. She couldn't possibly let him go any further.

Because, deep down, she was enjoying this, wasn't she? It felt like a betrayal admitting it to herself,
but the lack of control she had over her own body, the knowledge that she was utterly powerless
and at Scaramouche's mercy, made the knot at the base of her abdomen tighten. She could feel it
every time his fingers stroked her walls, every time he lowered his head to suck and tease at her
clit: the hot pleasure that flooded her veins and pushed her ever closer to completion.

Scaramouche hummed softly, and the vibration almost made Mona scream. She pushed her knees
outwards and lifted her hips off the futon, chasing a climax that felt so close she could almost taste
it...

All of a sudden, it ended. Scaramouche pulled back and wiped his mouth, leaving Mona to drop
back to the ground, trembling from head to toe.

“What's wrong?” she mumbled. He couldn't stop now, not when she'd just been so close a moment
ago.

Instead of answering, Scaramouche took hold of her waist and flipped her onto her front as easily as
if she were a pillow. Mona whined, aware of how desperate she sounded but too drunk on her own
sense of need to care. She tried to rub herself against the futon. Scaramouche grabbed her hips and
propped her up on his knees, preventing her from finding the friction she craved.

“Do you remember when you threw your sake over me back in the restaurant?”

All the heat drained out of Mona's body.

“I forgot,” she stammered.

“Oh?” Scaramouche leaned over until Mona could feel his breath on the small of her back. His
voice dropped to a deadly growl. “I didn't.”

The shock came from seemingly nowhere. Mona's body jerked, the yelp that left her mouth a result
of both the initial jolt and the pain that shot through her muscles in its wake. Almost as if...

“You have an Electro Vision,” she breathed.

Mona had only been afflicted with Electro once in her life when she'd accidentally fallen onto a
Slime in the rain. The shock had been so strong it had knocked her onto her back and left her in
agony. The pain she felt now reminded her of that, only not as strong.

Scaramouche giggled. “Close, but I wouldn't be seen dead with one of those slave contracts. What I
have here is called a Delusion. Care to try it again?”

Before Mona could ask what in the world he was talking about, she was hit with another round of
Electro. Though she could tell it came from his hands on her hips, the pain filled her whole body,
making her writhe in his grip and wrenching cry after cry from her lips.

It felt like an age had passed before Scaramouche finally let go of her, though in reality, it was
probably more like a few seconds. Mona's nerves were shredded. She trembled as Scaramouche ran
a hand across her back, soothing her like she was an injured animal.

“There's something beautiful about seeing people in pain,” he said. His voice sounded almost
dreamy, a far cry from the anger Mona had sensed in it just now. “Watching them walk that fine
line between agony and pleasure... I just love it.”

“Spoken like a true madman,” Mona managed to spit.

“Am I mad, though? Or is it that you're denying yourself the truth? That deep down, you adore
this. You want me to give you more pain.”

He punctuated his words with a short, sharp burst of Electro that had Mona shrieking into her
pillow.

She wouldn't say he was wrong. How could she when she herself had spent a night getting off to
the thought of him choking her? The ropes around her wrists right now were evidence that some
part of her, however small, enjoyed being in pain. Being used.

And it terrified her.

“Where did you want me to touch you?” Scaramouche cooed. “Here?”

He moved a hand between her legs and stroked at her clit with a fingertip.

“No,” Mona gasped. “Not there.”

She braced herself for the shock, but to her relief, Scaramouche took his hand away with a mutter
that she was being boring. Then he placed two fingers at her entrance and shoved them inside her
roughly, making her groan.

“Looks like I'm going to have to make my own entertainment, then.”

Mona winced as he pulled his fingers out of her. She heard the rustling of material behind her, and
then Scaramouche was leaning over her, his loose-hanging kimono brushing her shoulders, cock
pushing into her thigh. Mona had to resist the urge to grind herself back onto him. The last thing
she wanted him to know was that she was enjoying this.

“Tell me, Mona,” Scaramouche whispered against her shoulder, “how am I supposed to fuck you if
you're lying flat as a board?”

He pressed down on the small of her back until she was forced to stick her arse up in the air. He
caught her hip with one hand, then positioned his cock against her entrance and started to push.

Mona scrunched her eyes shut. Taking him when she'd been on her back was one thing, but this
position, with her spine bent the wrong way and her body limited in its flexibility, was already
proving to be a struggle. She tried to force herself to relax, spread her legs and pushed her arse up
as high as she could to better ease Scaramouche's entrance. Not that it bothered him. Judging by the
shallowness of his breaths, he was relishing every inch he forced into her.

“You're like a bitch in heat,” he muttered. “Who knew it would be this easy? I bet I'll have you
begging soon, too...”

He snapped his hips forward suddenly, sheathing himself inside Mona completely. She whined at
the stretch, her walls struggling to adapt to this new intrusion despite the preparation his fingers
had given her.

“Well? I'm not moving until you beg.”

Whatever pride Mona had been clinging to drained away as she opened her mouth and whispered,
“Pl-please...”

“Please what?”

She wiggled her hips. “Fuck me.”

Scaramouche snorted softly. Then he released her hip, leaned over her and shoved his fingers deep
into her mouth. Mona had to throw her head back to keep from gagging.

“Tell me how you taste,” Scaramouche snapped.

He started to move his hips, thrusting into Mona with such abandon it was all she could do to wrap
her tongue around his fingers and lap up the taste of her own arousal. Scaramouche pushed his
fingers deeper, and once again, she had to use all her willpower not to retch.

“Well?”

Only then did Mona realise he actually expected an answer. Between his rough thrusts and forcing
her to take his fingers, her mind was a hazy mess. The word she produced barely sounded human,
let alone intelligible.

“Hm, what's that?”

At last, Scaramouche pulled his fingers from Mona's mouth. She gasped in relief. Saliva ran thickly
down her chin and dripped onto her hands, clasped together on the futon below her.

“G-good,” she moaned.

She wasn't lying. It really did taste good, in a kind of filthy, unspeakable way, just like the feeling
of his cock spearing her over and over again was quickly sending her mind into overdrive despite
how wrong it all felt.

Scaramouche dropped his hand to her breast and squeezed. Just like last time, he wasn't overly
loud. In fact, the only sounds that escaped his mouth were the occasional breathy grunt, whereas
Mona was struggling to keep her noises in. She couldn't help it. She knew how needy she sounded,
but at this point, it was the last thing on her mind. As her climax started to build all over again, she
pushed her hips backwards and ground against Scaramouche, trying to match the rhythm of her
hips to his thrusts.

“Who would have thought that the great astrologist Mona Megistus would allow herself to be
fucked senseless by a Fatui?” Scaramouche muttered into her neck teasingly. “And all for a few
Mora. Maybe next time I should throw you to a few of my men and watch them take turns with
you.”

“You wouldn't,” Mona gasped.

Scaramouche laughed softly. “You're right, but only because I want you all to myself.”

He looped his left arm around her neck then and angled her face up to kiss him. His lips devoured
hers hungrily, the embrace as messy and unpleasant as the fingers he'd shoved into her mouth.
They were almost lying on their side now, Scaramouche's chest pressed flush against her back, all
while his hips continued their pounding rhythm. It didn't seem like he was going to slow down
anytime soon. His pace was relentless, as if he were determined to burn through her for his own
selfish satisfaction with no regard for her pleasure.

Except there was pleasure in this, wasn't there? How else could she explain the heat between her
legs, the excitement that prickled across her skin like Electro at the feeling of Scaramouche's arm
around her throat? Mona felt like she was standing on the edge of a pit. If she could just reach
down and touch herself for a few seconds, then it'd surely push her over over the edge, but of
course, her tied hands prevented it. No doubt this was part of her punishment for her behaviour in
the restaurant: the longer her climax was denied, the more the knot in her stomach ached. She
needed to relieve the pressure. It was torture.

Yet even that was a source of pleasure. Knowing that Scaramouche was controlling her body so
completely, that he'd probably make her beg again before he let her finish. Mona shuddered in his
arms.

“What's wrong?” he cooed, breath hot on her cheek. “Is it too much?”

Mona nodded, which made him laugh.

“And here I thought you wanted me to be rough with you. Should I go more slowly?”

At last, he stilled his hips. Mona barely had time to breathe before he started to pump into her
again, so slowly that she could feel every inch of his cock drag against her aching walls.
Somehow, it was far worse.

“Scaramouche,” she moaned, unable to hold back any longer, “please let me come.”
Judging by the Harbinger's heavy breaths, he was nearing completion, too. Mona hoped that would
encourage him to allow her the same mercy.

“You've never said my name before,” he grunted against her neck. “Do it again.”

Mona's mind was too addled to question how true that was. “Sca—”

He seized the back of her head suddenly, pulled out and pushed her onto her front. Mona's cry of
protest was muffled as her face was shoved into the pillow. Scaramouche seized her hips, sheathed
himself inside her again and started to move, picking up rhythm until the sound of skin slapping
against skin filled the air.

“You want to come?” The hand on Mona's hip moved to her clit and stroked it hard. “Then come.”

It only took a few seconds for Mona to spill over. She screamed into the pillow as waves of heat
pulsed through her, more a release of pressure than a source of pleasure, but a release nonetheless.
A moment later, Scaramouche swore and pulled out of her.

Mona wasn't sure how long it lasted, only that when she finally came down, she was trembling all
over. Slowly, Scaramouche removed his hand from the back of her head. She lifted her face from
the pillow and gulped down lungfuls of air. Her thighs felt wet. Whether it was from her own
wetness, Scaramouche's seed or a mixture of the two, she had no idea.

“Move.”

Scaramouche slapped Mona's arse, prompting her to shuffle forward on the futon. Her legs felt like
they were made of rubber. She could have collapsed on the spot now that the adrenaline was
bleeding out of her. But Scaramouche had other plans. He grabbed her by the waist, pinned her on
her back and hooked his knees around hers, forcing her legs back. With her hands still painfully
tied and her energy drained, Mona had no choice but to let him.

He looked down at her like an artist inspecting a blank canvas and deciding whether to paint a
masterpiece upon it or use it to blot his brushes out on. Then, after what felt like an age, he leaned
down and pressed his lips to Mona's. Now that they were facing one another, she was able to catch
the collar of his kimono and wrap her hands around the material. Her knuckles brushed the sweat
on his chest.

“You're mine,” he groaned into her lips.

Mona almost broke the kiss to protest. Of course she wasn't his. She'd already told him as much
tonight. Yet how could she deny it when her body was wrapped around him, her skin stained with
his marks?

Scaramouche ground his hips into her, and Mona shuddered when she felt his cock press against
her arse, already half hard. He wrapped a hand around her neck and squeezed, holding her in place
as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her nose. His dark hair hung down over his face.

When he moved his hips higher, Mona could feel that he was almost at full hardness. He wasted no
time in pushing into her again, eased by her slickness. Mona gritted her teeth. She was already
over-sensitive after her climax, and the feeling of being filled once more made her nerves flare.

But she didn't make a sound, didn't move. She simply lay there as Scaramouche claimed her, a
victor possessing the spoils of war. Before long, the world fell away around Mona until all she
could perceive were its base elements: the sound of breathing, the smell of sweat, and those deep
indigo eyes staring down at her from the darkness.
Chapter End Notes

This will be the last chapter for a couple weeks, as I'm taking a short break to
concentrate on a couple of other projects I've been neglecting in favour of this one, but
rest assured I will be back very soon! In the meantime, feel free to tell me what you
think so far. Happy Holidays, and thanks for reading! <3

@middlemistgrey drew some absolutely beautiful (but slightly NSFW) fanart for this
chapter and I need you all to check it out because I am in awe of her talent.
 Chapter 12
Chapter Notes

I'm back to regular posting! Thank you so much for everyone who stuck around
through the mini-hiatus. I offer you a new ladle of warm (chapter) soup in these cold
months.

While I'm hesitant to assign an exact number at this stage, I'm predicting this fic will
run for around 30 chapters, according to the plan I have for it. Really excited to keep
going with this one!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Mona stared at the figure dozing soundly in front of her.

He looked younger in his sleep, the spite and cunning of his usual countenance having melted
away to leave a face that was strikingly innocent, almost doll-like. Indigo hair fell over pale skin,
slim shoulders rising and falling in time with slow, silent breaths.

I could kill him right now.

The thought came to her in passing, but the more Mona dwelled on it, the more she realised just
how easy it would be. A slash of a knife, and his throat would be open. Mona didn't exactly relish
the thought of cleaning up blood from her bedroom floor, but it would be worth the trade-off for
that divine moment when he'd open his panicked eyes to find his life bleeding away before him in a
thick, red puddle.

Or maybe she'd strangle him instead. Within a second, she could mount him and wrap her hands
around his throat. By the time he awoke, her fingers would already be digging between his tendons,
squeezing his windpipe closed. She imagined how he'd struggle, the way his face would turn blue
as he floundered for breath. It would take physical effort on her behalf to keep him down, but Mona
couldn't imagine a more satisfying end for the man who'd tortured her these past few weeks than
choking the life from him with her own two hands.

Her eyes dropped to his throat, utterly unblemished aside from a single dark mark above his
collarbone. Heat spread across Mona's cheeks as the memory of how that mark had come to be
returned to her.

She rolled over, reached into the small storage box she kept near her futon and pulled out a pocket
watch. When she saw she had twenty minutes until she was due to start work, all thoughts of
murder left her head.

She had a shop to run.

*
“Oi, are you deaf?”

The voice pulled Mona from her thoughts. She looked up to see an elderly woman pointing at one
of the cabinets nearby.

“Sorry, I was miles away,” she said with strained politeness, walking over. “How can I help you?”

It was already mid morning, and to Mona's surprise, the time had flown by thanks to a steady
stream of customers. Still, it was those moments in between when her mind was allowed to wonder
that posed the biggest danger right now.

He was still upstairs in her room, presumably asleep. Mona had no idea why she was allowing him
to stay there. Maybe she was scared of approaching him again. Her body still ached from the night
they'd spent, her skin a canvas displaying every mark he'd left on her. She'd managed to cover up
most of them with her mantle; others, like the purple bruise he'd sucked into the skin below her ear,
were harder to conceal. Thankfully, none of the customers had said anything, though she had
noticed a few of their eyes lingering when they'd thought she couldn't see them.

Like a bitch in heat.

She'd done it again, the one thing she'd promised herself she wouldn't fall to. And it was a fall.
Scaramouche had dragged her down with him, and he would again and again, as long as she let
him. She felt like a drunk swearing off drinking after a nasty hangover, only to pick up the bottle
again a few days later. If she promised herself she'd stop sleeping with him right now, would it just
make it more painful the next time she ended up in his arms?

“You didn't answer my question.”

The woman was staring at her again, annoyance painted across her features. Mona shook her head
and apologised.

“It's three thousand Mora,” she said.

The woman glanced at the astrolabe she'd been looking to buy, then back at Mona. She scoffed.
“Ridiculous. Where am I supposed get that amount of money from?”

Try asking the Fatui, you old hag, Mona thought, though she kept her tone calm as she offered a
ten percent discount. To no surprise, the woman waved her hand dismissively.

“Forget it. This place will probably go under soon enough with those kinds of prices, anyway.”

Mona didn't have the energy to explain to her that was how much an astrolabe was supposed to
cost. She simply thanked her for her custom, walked her to the door and kicked it shut behind her.

Midday arrived, and Scaramouche was still nowhere to be seen.

Mona approached the bottom of the stairs with tentative steps. She had no idea why, but she half-
expected to see him sitting there at the top, looking down at her with that self-important smile she
hated. When she saw the space was empty, she let out a sigh of relief and decided to call out to him
instead: “I'm going to get some lunch. Do you want anything?”

No response.

Do you want anything? she repeated in her head with a grimace. Like they were friends.

“Scara...” She stopped herself. “When I get back, Harbinger, I expect you to be gone. Understand?”

Once again, there was no reply. She couldn't even hear movement above her.

Maybe he's fucked off out of the window, Mona mused. It would certainly make life much easier
for her if he had. Even better if he'd slipped and broken an ankle on the way down.

She made her way back into the shop, grabbed a few coins from the register and started towards
the door, only to stop dead in her tracks. A figure was standing on the other side of the door. She
waited to see if it was a customer about to walk in, though after a few seconds of standing there,
they hadn't moved. Almost as if they were waiting for her to come to them.

After giving her Vision a customary squeeze through the material of her pocket, Mona marched
forward and threw the door open. The face on the other side was one she instantly recognised.

“Mona Megistus.” The guard gave her a wide grin. She hadn't seen him since the day he'd been
snooping around the entrance to her shop. The day he'd threatened her.

“Afternoon,” she said stiffly. “Is there something you need?”

The guard looked over her shoulder into the shop. He probably thought he was being subtle, as if
Mona couldn't tell he was checking to see if they were alone. Her shoulders stiffened.

“I was hoping we could talk. May I come inside?”

“I'd prefer we spoke out here, actually,” she said.

The guard smirked. “Believe me, this isn't the kind of thing you want to hear in public.”

Reluctant as she was, Mona stepped aside, allowing him to stroll in. She closed the door and stood
in front of it. “Well? What's wrong?”

The man was too busy peering into a row of cabinets to respond. He seemed determined to prove to
her that she was running on his time, not the other way around.

Finally, he straightened up and said, “I'm sorry to have to break this to you, Ms Megistus, but
things aren't looking very good for you at the moment. The higher-ups have been fretting over this
whole Hugo case. They're going to start treating it as a murder and, well, I don't need to tell you
who the prime suspect is.”

Mona's heart skipped a beat. It was everything she'd feared come true. “So, you're here to arrest
me.”

“Oh, no. Quite the opposite, in fact,” said the man, walking towards her slowly. “You see, being a
senior guard myself, I have quite a lot of sway with said higher-ups. I can pull a few strings, help
you out of this situation, providing you do something for me in return.”

“And what might that be?” Mona mumbled, though she already knew the answer.

The man stopped in front of her, a hungry glimmer in his eyes. “I told you before. A pretty face can
get you far around here.”

Mona glared up at him and said, in the firmest voice she could manage, “I'd like to go to the station
and talk this over with someone else. If I'm under suspicion of murder, then it's something I need to
deal with myself.”

She turned around and reached for the door handle, but the man lunged forward and seized her
wrist before she could grab it. She leaped back instinctively. Her shoulders met the man's chest.

“There's really no need for that,” he muttered, a sudden danger in his voice. “You're a clever girl.
You know much better than to run at a golden opportunity. I can help you. All I ask is that you
help me back, hm?” A pause. “Although I can see you've already worked that out.”

Something hard, a coarse fingertip, brushed the mark beneath Mona's ear. She gritted her teeth.
Help. Scaramouche had said the same thing to her last night as he'd held her in his arms. Everyone
here promised to help her, only to go on and take, take, take.

She was sick of it.

In a heartbeat, Mona had summoned a sphere of Hydro in her free hand. She flicked her arm in an
upwards arc, sending the water straight into the guard's face. The force knocked his head back and
allowed Mona a split second to free her hand from his grip, slip into a torrent and dash across the
floor.

She emerged on the other side of the room and took up a defensive stance, ready to attack again
should she need to. The guard turned to face her, teeth clenched, chin dripping with water.

“A Vision. I knew it!”

Mona couldn't tell whether his voice was closer to rage or exhilaration. Either way, she'd backed
herself into a corner. The Guard had seen her magic. She might as well use it while she could.

“You're going straight to the Tenryou Commission when I'm done with you, girl,” he growled,
lurching towards her. A cabinet stood between them. Mona knew it was the only thing that stopped
him from making a run straight for her.

She summoned another jet of Hydro, ready to launch it at the man, when all of a sudden,
something purple flashed across her Vision. Mona caught a glimpse of a figure sprinting from the
direction of the stairs, so quickly he might as well have been a fork of lightning, before he crashed
into the guard and knocked him backwards.

“Hey, get—”

The guard didn't get to finish his protest as a fist slammed straight into his mouth.

“You want to help?” Scaramouche spat. “Then do the world a favour and die.”

He knelt on top of the guard, and it was all Mona could do to stand and watch as he rained blow
after blow down onto his face. The guard struggled, tried to grab at him, but every time his hands
came near, Scaramouche slapped them aside and knocked another punch into his head.

When he finally came to a stop, the man was trembling beneath him. His nose looked crooked on
his face, and blood poured down his cheeks. Some of it had gotten on Scaramouche's hands, his
face, too. Bending down, he seized the man by the hair and pulled him a few inches up to meet
him.
“I'm not in the habit of giving out free advice, but I suggest you get yourself as far away from this
place as you can.”

The only sound that came from the guard was a choked gasp. Mona wasn't even sure he was fully
conscious anymore.

“What was what?” Scaramouche hissed.

Another garbled noise. It was obvious the man was trying to speak, but he couldn't form the words.
With a sharp sigh, Scaramouche raised his free hand, and Electro energy flittered between his
fingertips.

“If you want to talk, then speak up.”

He brought his hand down and slammed it palm-down into the man's collar. The shriek that
escaped him as his body convulsed made Mona shudder.

“Stop,” she mumbled.

But if Scaramouche heard her, he did nothing to show it, instead sending another shock through the
guard, whose screams were finally starting to sound like words: “S-sorry. I'm sorry.”

As much as she hated the guard, Mona wasn't sure how much of this she could watch. Snapping
from her frozen state, she forced herself forward and step and shouted, “That's enough.”

Scaramouche paused, his hand an inch from the man's face. Then he let his head drop down to the
floorboards with a thud. He bent low again, not once taking his eyes off him, and whispered, “If
you tell anyone about Mona's Vision, the Fatui will hunt you down. You can flee to any corner of
Teyvat you want, but no matter where you go, I shall see to it that you live in fear of every blind
spot, every dark alley, even your own shadow. You will spend the remainder of your miserable life
waiting for the moment when a hand reaches from the darkness and sticks a knife into your back.
Do you understand?”

The guard nodded vigorously, which made Scaramouche smile. “I'm glad we could come to an
understanding.”

He pushed off the man, stood up and brushed away a lock of hair stuck to his cheek with blood.
Then he marched over to Mona, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to the door.

Once they were outside, he led her to the end of the alley, as far away from the street and the
public eye as possible.

“Breathe,” he muttered.

Only at his command did Mona realise she'd been holding her breath in. She did what he said,
breathing in slowly through her nose and out of her mouth, trying to calm down her spinning mind.

She looked at Scaramouche, who was busy wiping his bloody hands against his kimono. A glance
down revealed a smudge of blood on her own wrist from where he'd taken hold of it. She jumped
and wiped it against her tights, but no matter how many times she rubbed the patch of skin, traces
of blood remained.

“Here.” Scaramouche took her hand in his own, then gathered up a section of his sleeve, wet it
between his lips and used it to wipe her wrist clean. The gesture felt deceptively gentle considering
the situation.
“Do you think he'll survive?” she asked.

It was a stupid question. The guard had been moving when she'd left the room; she'd heard him
babbling. Still, she couldn't help but feel like she'd witnessed another murder.

Scaramouche's response was more or less what she'd anticipated – a sharp, heavy sigh. “His nose
was broken, that's all. He'll live.”

Mona highly doubted that was the full extent of his injuries, but she wasn't in a position to dispute
it.

“Although...” The corners of Scaramouche's lips lifted. “I could go back and finish the job, if you
want me to.”

“No, I don't.”

“Oh.” He frowned as if he'd actually expected her to say yes.

With her wrist now clean, Scaramouche let her hand drop and turned back to his own. It seemed
like a pointless exercise, given the amount on his face and hair that surely wouldn't come off
without a wash. Mona tried not to let her eyes linger too long on his hands, not when the memory of
them roaming her body was still so fresh on her mind.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “For intervening, I mean.”

Scaramouche snorted. “Don't mention it. Some people can't take a hint unless it's beaten into them.
I don't think that murder charge will be bothering you much anymore, either.”

If there ever was one in the first place, Mona thought. The more she ran over the guard's words in
her head, the more she suspected it had just been a ploy to scare her into compliance. Either way,
he'd have to be an idiot not to take note of Scaramouche's threat.

The whole of the Fatui against you... Mona knew exactly how that one felt.

Sighing, she leaned back against the wall. Her breaths were a little calmer now, her pulse less
frantic. To distract herself, she decided to ask the question that had been burning foremost on her
mind since last night: “That Electro you command. That... Delusion.”

Scaramouche looked up at her.

“You said it wasn't a Vision.”

A 'slave contract'. Those were the words he'd used, hadn't he? For some reason, the phrase
reminded her of a conversation she'd had recently, though she couldn't remember exactly when and
with whom.

“That I did,” said Scaramouche, reaching up to wipe the drying blood from under his eye. The tone
of his voice made Mona suspect she'd have more luck wringing water from a brick than getting an
easy explanation out of him.

“What is it, then?”

“A means of controlling the elements without bowing to the will of the Archons. A gift from the
Tsaritsa to her officers as a reward for their loyalty.”

Was that a hint of mockery Mona could sense in Scaramouche's voice? The scraps of information
she knew about the mysterious Tsaritsa were more or less common knowledge: that she ruled over
Snezhnaya with an iron fist and commanded the Fatui as her personal army.

“I thought the Tsaritsa was an Archon herself,” Mona said.

Scaramouche leaned over and placed his hand on the wall beside her head, using the slither of
height advantage he had to look down at her.

“You're asking a lot of questions. Why don't you stop worrying about things that don't concern you
and concentrate on your little astronomy business?” he said, tapping her on the nose with the tip of
his finger.

“Astrology,” she snapped.

“Whatever.”

Mona placed a hand on his chest and pushed him backwards enough that she could slip out from
between him and the wall. “You shouldn't put astrology down, you know. It's an ancient art that
takes a lot of skill.”

“Is it, now?” said Scaramouche, voice heavy with sarcasm. “That must be why it's made you so
rich.”

Mona knew she shouldn't react to his taunting, but once again, he'd positioned the bait so well she
had no choice but to bite down on it. Gritting her teeth, she seethed, “I'm poor because I refuse to
charge people for readings. It's called morals. Learn them.”

Scaramouche crossed his arms and smiled. Clearly, he was enjoying himself. “If it's free, then read
my fortune right now. Tell me what you see.”

Mona glared at him. It was probably a coincidence; or perhaps he was fully aware that when it
came to her readings, he was a black hole. It was hard to tell from his expression alone.

“What's wrong?” he asked, tilting his head when she stayed silent. “Can't do it?”

“No,” she said finally. “I can't.”

She hadn't intended to tell him, but now that he'd brought up the subject, she felt all of her
frustration tumble out of her in one. She ran her hands through her hair and shook her head. “Ever
since we met on the ship, I have been trying to work you out. You don't have a constellation, but
you can use elemental powers. My hydromancy doesn't work on you. I can't read your actions, and
when I'm around you, my insight just... stops.” She looked up. “Do you have any idea why that
might be?”

Scaramouche was silent for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Sounds like you're not as good an
astrologist as you claim to be.”

Mona could have slapped him on the spot for his response, but she managed to keep herself in
check. “Nothing's changed between now and Musk Reef. Back then, I knew the moment we met
that you were out to harm the Traveller. Why can't I see things like that now? There has to be a
reason.”

Again, she was met with cold, hard nonchalance in the form of a muttered, “How should I know?”
Scaramouche sauntered past her towards the mouth of the alley, then turned just before the end and
raised his hands by his side. “Maybe your Vision's broken. Have you considered that?”
 Mona watched him disappear into the main street. A sinking feeling had started to stir in her gut.

It has to be a coincidence, she told herself a second time. There was no way Scaramouche could
know the problems she'd been going through with her Vision. And yet the timing of it all, the way
he'd dismissed her questions about his own Delusion...

Ah. There it was. Now Mona remembered why the words 'slave contract' had sounded so familiar
to her. That night at the Kamisato Estate after the raid by the Tenryou Commission, she and
Yoimiya had sat and spoken about their Visions and how the Raiden Shogun's decree was ripping
people's ambitions away from them. Her own comment about Visions rang clearly in her head:
Kind of makes them seem like a curse when you put it that way.

She'd only meant it half-heartedly at the time. Never in her life had Mona seen her Vision as a
curse. A useless tool at first, yes, but she'd kept it close to her and grown to rely on it all the same.
Her master had always told her that a Vision was a contract with Celestia, and the night at the
Kamisato Estate had made her realise that a Vision was a manifestation of one's ambition.

But what if those ambitions shifted? Not ripped away like she'd seen happen to the servant, but
changed by the Vision-holder themselves? What if one's will took them away from their original
path and led them to pursue new goals entirely? It went against everything she understood about
fate, but she couldn't help but wonder whether such a thing was possible: that people's fates weren't
set in stone and could be altered with a strong enough will.

If she gave up on her ambitions and chose a different path, would she have the chance to control
her fate, too? Would it come at the cost of her powers?

Mona dug into her pocket and pulled out her Vision. The golden rim glinted in the noon sunlight,
though she could have sworn that the dark blue gem in the centre was glowing a little more dully
than usual.

Chapter End Notes

Follow me on Twitter for updates and snippets! @AbyssalWaltz

 Chapter 13
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

No matter how much she scrubbed, Mona couldn't get the last of the blood out of the floorboards.

This was the third time now that she'd found herself on hands and knees, scouring the patch of floor
where the guard's head had lay with a bucket of water and a wire brush. She'd thought she'd gotten
the last of it out last night before she'd gone to bed, only to wake up this morning to find stains still
clinging to the joins between the boards. It wasn't a huge amount, and Mona could easily make a
believable excuse if a customer pointed it out, but the fact she knew it was there was enough for
her to make it disappear. She wanted all traces of that man gone from her shop.

He'd left shortly after Scaramouche had yesterday. Mona had gone back into her shop to find him
sitting up, clutching his head. She'd offered him a cloth to clean himself up with, but he'd refused it
and walked away without another word.

Not that Mona could blame him. If she'd just been beaten to within an inch of her life by a man half
her size, she probably wouldn't want to hang around, either.

Of course, there still existed the worry in her mind that the guard would return, this time with a
battery charge on her as well as a murder one, though she had a feeling that Scaramouche was
correct and this would be the last she heard of the situation. Only time would tell.

Once she was sure that she'd gotten the last of the blood up, Mona stood and dropped the brush
into the bucket. She still had almost an hour until opening time, and after the awful night's sleep
she'd had, a part of her considered heading back to bed for a while. However, she could see herself
oversleeping into the afternoon if she did that, so she decided to stay awake.

But what to do for an hour...

The answer to her question came in the form of the door swinging open.

“Hi!” Scaramouche gave her a wave as he strutted into the room.

At once, Mona took up a defensive position. “What are you...” Her eyes flitted to the door she'd
sworn she'd locked and back. “How did you get in?”

“Oh, I borrowed one of your keys and had a replacement made a while back,” he said, flicking his
hand dismissively. “As an investor, I thought it only logical that I have free access to this place.”

“Investor?” Mona snorted. “Don't be ridiculous.”

Scaramouche produced an envelope from his pocket. “No? Well, I've got a cheque here for the
owner of Mona's Oddities, so if she's not around—”

Mona raced forward and snatched it from his hand before he could finish his sentence. She tore
open the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper inside. Another twenty thousand. She'd been
expecting as much, but still couldn't hide the disappointment at receiving such a paltry sum in
comparison to the staggering debt over her head.

Still, it was one step closer to covering it. One step closer to freedom.
“Well?” said Scaramouche expectantly.

Mona lowered the cheque and said in the driest tone she could manage, “Thank you.”

“You're very welcome.” Scaramouche was back in his Harbinger's uniform, and the bells hanging
from his hat jingled as he reached into the cloth bag he was holding in his other hand and pulled
out a package wrapped in greaseproof paper. “Here.”

“What is it?” asked Mona a moment before she was hit with the smell of fried fish.

“Breakfast.”

She stared at him, trying to work out whether this was a trick or not. Finally, she sighed and walked
over to the counter. “You don't have to buy me food, you know. I'm perfectly capable of looking
after myself.”

“Are you, now?” Scaramouche said, following her, voice heavy with amusement. “That must be
the reason why you handled the situation yesterday so well on your own.”

Mona spun to find him standing right in front of her, far too close for comfort. She backed up a
step, only for the edge of the counter to dig into her thigh. “Let's not forget who put me in that
situation in the first place.”

“And now it's over.” He placed his hands on her waist and smiled at her sweetly, as if it really was
that simple.

Looking down to avoid his eyes, Mona muttered, “What if it's not? What if he comes back with the
Tenryou Commission's support?

“I'll just have to stick around longer, then, won't I?”

Before Mona could stop him, Scaramouche leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. Then he
pulled away and started to walk around the shop, sandals clicking against the floorboards.

“Stick around?” Mona's flew up to the spot he'd just kissed. She already had a bad feeling about
this.

“Mm. It only makes sense that an investor wants to see their assets flourish, and one part of that is
keeping the rabble away.”

Mona snorted. “I don't think anyone is going to pick a fight with a Harbinger as a doorman.”

“Well, that's settled.”

“Wait. No.” She'd only meant the comment in jest, but as Scaramouche turned his back to her, she
realised she'd put the final nail in the coffin herself. With a sigh, she leaned back against the desk.
“Fine. You can stay for a couple of hours, no more.”

He'd probably get bored before then, anyway.

*
Morning rolled into noon, and despite all odds, Scaramouche still hadn't left.

He sat on a stool in the corner behind the counter, one leg folded for him to rest an arm on. No
matter where Mona went in the shop, she could feel his eyes on her back like a hawk.

“Surely there's someplace better for you to be?” she asked stiffly once the customer she'd been
attending to had left.

His answer was the same as always: “Probably. But I like it here.”

Regardless of how true that was, Mona certaintly didn't like him being there. Several times, she'd
noticed customers glance over at him anxiously, and she had a suspicion that his presence had
driven her out of at least one sale. Mona couldn't blame them. She wouldn't exactly feel
comfortable perusing a shop with a menacing figure staring at her from the corner, either.

“Would you at least make yourself useful and sort some things out in the basement?” Mona asked.
She and Thoma had already done the majority of it, but there were still a few boxes down there that
needed to be looked through. It would get him away from her for a couple of hours, at least.

“I'd say yes, but if it's astrology-related, I doubt I'll be able to tell what's rubbish or not and end up
throwing it all away,” said Scaramouche, a smile pulling at his lips.

Mona didn't have the strength to snap back at his obvious teasing, so she snatched up her broom
and swept the floor instead. Anything to avoid looking at him.

She supposed a part of her had accepted that Scaramouche would be a permanent figure in her life
from now on. He was just one of those things she was going to have to deal with, like a rash or a
seasonal flu. Wasn't it better, then, that she at least try to get along with him?

And yet, as she sneaked a glance at him over her shoulder, she felt irritation prickle beneath her
skin all over again. He was just so completely and utterly dislikeable. The fact he had moments
when his actions masqueraded as kindness, like when he'd brought her the grilled fish sticks this
morning, somehow made it all the worse.

Still, Mona had faced bigger problems in her life, and she'd be damned if she were to be brought to
her knees by one loathsome little man.

“You missed a spot.”

Mona glanced at the area Scaramouche was pointing to, a few specks of dust gathered beneath one
of the cabinets. Digging her nails into the handle, she swept them into her pile, then pushed it all
against the wall, ready to gather up later.

“Since you've got such a keen eye for detail, why don't you try helping out?” she said. It was a
struggle to keep her voice even.

Scaramouche opened his mouth to speak, when the door opened and in walked a mother and son.
He raised an eyebrow as if to say, Well, go on. Speak to them.

Another wave of annoyance surged through Mona, but she managed to keep it in check as she
placed the broom to the side and walked over to the woman. “Hi, I'm Mona. How can I help you?”

While the woman talked her through what she was looking for, Mona watched her son walk around
in her peripheral vision. He couldn't have been much older than five, and was in that stage of his
life where everything, no matter how dull on the surface, was a source of wonder. He tottered
around the shop with wide eyes, staring into each display case and taking small bites from a fish-
shaped cake in his hand. Normally, Mona didn't allow food in her shop, but she'd make an
exception in this case for the simple fact that he was rather sweet.

“What are those?” he asked, pointing into one of the cases at a selection of potion ingredients.

“Hold on a minute, Kyo. Mama's talking.” The woman sighed with the exasperation of someone
who'd already had to answer a thousand similar questions today. “Sorry. We've been to the shrine
and he's still excited about it.”

“Don't worry about it,” said Mona with a smile.

She shot a glance over her shoulder at Scaramouche, who was following the boy with a look of
intrigue in his eyes. She frowned and turned back to the woman, who'd started talking again.
However, mere seconds had passed before the pair were interrupted by the sound of something
hitting the floor.

Mona spun to see Kyo sprawled out on his front beside one of the cabinets. There was a moment of
silence, and then he let rip a howl of pain.

“Oh, Archons.”

The woman rushed towards her son, but it was Scaramouche who sprang to his feet and intervened
first. He slipped his hands underneath the boy's arms and pulled him upright, mumbling that it was
okay, just a little bump. The cake he'd been holding had somehow managed to become smeared all
over the floor and around his elbow.

“Kyo, are you okay?” The woman swept him up in her arms and squeezed him close, then looked
up at Scaramouche. “Thank you for your help.”

Mona stared at the Harbinger. She could barely believe what she was seeing, that a man who was
capable of such violence could be so gentle with a child. It had to be a trick, another way to
manipulate her.

And yet when Scaramouche turned back to Kyo, there was a hint of genuine concern in his voice.
“That was quite a fall you had there. Where does it hurt?”

Still sniffling, Kyo pointed at the elbow with cake on it.

“Well, I'm sure we can make that better in no time.” Scaramouche turned to Mona. “Some Mora, if
you'd be so kind.”

Mona was so shocked, she did as she was told, fetching some Mora from the cashier and placing it
into Scaramouche's waiting hand. He looked down at Kyo with a smile on his face. “Now, what's
say you and I go and get some taiyaki?”

Mona didn't recognise the word he'd used, but she assumed it was the proper name for the cake
Kyo had been eating. After seeking permission from his mum, he nodded. “Okay.”

They walked out of the shop as a three, Scaramouche and Kyo in front and the woman trailing
behind. The whole situation felt almost surreal to Mona. Should she be worried that she'd just
watched the most dangerous person she knew walk off with a child? Was that what he wanted her
to think?

She sat down behind the counter and waited until she could bear it no more. Then she stood up
 again.

The early afternoon heat was stifling as Mona burst into the alley and made her way out onto the
street. She looked around wildly as she she walked, hoping to catch a glimpse of a wide-brimmed
hat among the people milling about. Finally, she spotted them up ahead. The sight made her stop
dead in her tracks.

They were standing in front of a food cart. Kyo clung to his mother's arm as the vendor handed
Scaramouche a fresh taiyaki. He handed it to Kyo, who accepted it sheepishly.

Straightening up, Scaramouche turned his head enough that it was clear he could see Mona
standing there. The corners of his lips turned up, and she could practically hear his taunting voice
in her head: What, you thought I'd go so far as to harm a child?

Perhaps all of this was a test. Or maybe, just maybe, he had a genuine soft spot for those weaker
than him; those innocents whose worldview had not yet been tainted and who saw the world with
fresh, eager eyes.

Even monsters had their gentler sides, after all.

Chapter End Notes

I feel like Scaramouche is such a multi-faceted character, it only makes sense to

include the softer side of his personality in this fic, no matter how briefly it lasts. I just
love how it's heavily implied in canon that he's nice to kids but is a dick towards adults
:')

Anyway, exciting news! I'll be writing a fic for the Scaramona zine Synastry. There
are so many talented artists and writers taking part, so definitely check it out if that's
something you're interested in!

Feel free to follow me on Twitter for snippets and updates. @AbyssalWaltz

 Chapter 14
Chapter Notes

Smut warning for this chapter! But that's probably what you're here for :')

Feel free to leave a comment if you liked what you read! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Words can't do justice to how pathetic you look right now.”

Mona was inclined to agree. With her hands tied behind her back and her clothes hanging off her
shoulders as she knelt on the floor of her room, she doubted she could've looked more helpless if
she'd tried.

There was a hunger to Scaramouche's movements as he tilted her face back, bent over and kissed
her. His lips pressed hard against hers, forcing them apart to allow his tongue to slide into her
mouth.

Don't resist, Mona told herself. It'll be over more quickly that way.

She'd been telling herself as much every time they'd fallen into bed with one another. It had been a
week since the incident with the guard, and Scaramouche had visited her shop every day, to the
point where he'd become an almost permanent fixture in the back corner. While some customers
still shot the occasional wary look in his direction, most ignored him. It was tolerable, Mona
supposed. He didn't expect her to talk to him, and most days, he ended up leaving once the shop
closed its doors.

Other days, he stayed.

When she properly considered it, Mona realised it was quite alarming how easily she'd fallen into
this cycle. The solution, of course, was not to think about it at all; yet when she lay on her futon at
night beside Scaramouche, her body aching after another vigorous session, it was hard not to let her
mind wander.

At least there were no complicated feelings of love involved. That was something could be certain
of. And as she stared up at Scaramouche right now, humiliation dying her cheeks a bright shade of
scarlet, she couldn't imagine that changing anytime soon.

He straightened up and ran a hand through her hair, fingers slipping between her black locks. Then
he grabbed her head and pulled her sharply forward. Mona's heart jumped to feel something hard
pushing into her cheek from the other side of his shorts.

“Are you going to do as I say?” he mumbled.

“Yes,” said Mona.

And she would. It was easier than resisting, after all.

Squeezing her hair in his fist, Scaramouche turned her head so that her face was pressed against his
cock. She placed a kiss to it, breathed in and caught the faint scent of his arousal through the
material.

She'd have been lying if she'd said a part of her wasn't slightly excited; that shameless, animalistic
part that lived on being spoken down to like this. As Scaramouche worked the buttons of his shorts
with the hand that wasn't holding her head, Mona found herself shifting on the floor, rubbing her
thighs together to satiate the need stirring there.

“Do the other Fatui know you're here?”

She'd asked the question purely as a means to distract herself from her growing restlessness, but it
made Scaramouche pause all the same. He raised a brow as he looked down at her, and Mona's
heart almost dropped to her stomach at the ice in his eyes. Then he smiled.

“I normally don't tolerate those who pry into my personal business, but since you asked nicely...”
Scaramouche seized her by the chin and tilted her face back, forcing her to keep looking at him.
“They don't know. No-one does. They don't ask, either, because I'm their boss and my affairs are
none of their concern.”

Mona had expected that. It made sense that there was a certain amount of distance between the
Harbingers and their underlings in order to maintain the hierarchy. She couldn't imagine it was
very pleasant working for the Fatui, especially under someone like Scaramouche.

“But what about that man who came to deliver the cheque to me that first time? Surely he must
have questioned what he was handing over,” Mona said. The memory felt like an age away now.

“What did I just tell you?” snapped Scaramouche. “The Fatui don't question their orders. They
carry them out with perfect obedience.”

As should you. The implication was heavy in his tone. In this case, Mona suspected her order was
to stop asking questions.

The task was made a lot easier for her when Scaramouche hooked his thumb over his underwear
and pulled it down enough that he could take out his cock. Mona's breath hitched in her throat as
she took in the slight curve, the patch of dark hair at its base just visible beneath his shirt.

For a moment, she was so distracted she didn't notice him change his grip on her chin until his
thumb was slipping between her lips. He pushed it as deeply as it would go, then dragged it back
slowly along her tongue.

“You're talking an awful lot,” he purred. “Let's see if we can find a better use for that mouth, hm?”

Mona nodded, at which Scaramouche pulled away his hand and slapped her hard across the cheek.

“Good girl.”

Mona's face burned from the sting of his palm, but she kept quiet in knowing that her complaining
would probably just stir a reaction in him. Scaramouche angled his cock down so that the tip was
pressing against her lips before placing his thumb on her chin and pulling her jaw down enough
that he could slip inside. He stared at her with intense concentration as the first couple of inches
disappeared into her mouth.

Mona breathed in sharply through her nose and tried to relax her jaw to ease Scaramouche's entry.
While he was going slowly now, she could sense the pent-up energy inside him, and knew it was
only a matter of time before he reverted back to his usual roughness. He pulled his hips back
slightly, and Mona responded by leaning forward, taking more of him into her and drawing a groan
from his lips, to her immense satisfaction.

“Suck.”

The word was soft, but carried with it the weight of any of his normal commands. Mona did as she
was told, moving her lips slowly up and down his length, eased by the wetness of his skin and her
own simmering excitement. Scaramouche tangled his fingers in the hair above her ear and guided
her movements. He seemed to relish the control he had over her, both physically and emotionally.

“Come to think of it, there was one person who asked about you.”

Mona glanced up at him. He was still looking down, but his eyes seemed to staring past her to a
point at the floor behind. Now, it was Mona's turn to wonder whether he was talking just to distract
himself, as she had been not long ago.

She pulled off him and pressed a kiss to the underside of his cock. “Who was it?”

Scaramouche made a noise of disapproval and forced himself back into her mouth with a push of
his hips. “Some nobody. They saw you leaving my room at the base in Hanamizaka but thought
they'd wait a week before asking me about it.”

Mona felt a new wave of heat rise to her face at the memory – ironic, given what she was doing
right now.

“I'm not an idiot. I know word would spread that the Harbinger had a guest visit him personally.”
Scaramouche's voice fell to a growl. “But I don't like being questioned.”

He moved his hand to the top of Mona's neck, spread his fingers across the underside of her jaw
and jerked her face up. “Do you know what I did to him?”

While Mona was certain Scaramouche was just trying to scare her once again, she couldn't help the
shiver that ran down her spine.

After a short period of silence, Scaramouche chuckled under his breath. “Nothing.”

He repositioned himself so that he could thrust into her mouth more easily, pulling his cock out
almost all the way before slipping it back in as far as the confines of her mouth would allow. With
no hands to grab onto his thighs, Mona had to fight to keep her balance as he moved. It took all her
concentration not to gag every time she felt him hit the back of her throat.

“Do you really think I'd hurt one of my own like that?” Scaramouche was clearly trying to keep his
tone teasing, but there was a heaviness to his breaths that lined up with the rhythm of his hips.

Of course I do, thought Mona. You killed a man for walking into you. She couldn't imagine he gave
much more leeway to those in his own organisation.

A particularly violent thrust had Mona's facade breaking, and she shuddered as his cock slipped
past the back of her tongue into her throat. She wondered whether he could feel his length pushing
through the soft underside of her jaw with his fingers.

He held her there for a few seconds before releasing her. Mona jerked her head back, coughing and
gulping down air the moment she was able to. A thin trail of saliva connected her lips to the tip of
his cock. Scaramouche wiped it from her with a look of disgust, as if it was her fault she'd made
such a mess.
“What a fuss,” he mumbled. “The least you can do is clean up after yourself.”

No sooner had Mona caught her breath, Scaramouche seized her face again and pushed it into his
groin. A part of her wanted to pull away, to end this before he could humiliate her more, but as her
instincts took over, she found herself running her lips up and down him anyway, licking up the
fluids she'd left on his skin. He grunted when her tongue brushed the prominent vein just under his
head, an obvious sweet spot for him.

“But you see, Mona. That's the point, isn't it?” he mumbled, returning to the story he'd been telling
before he'd forced himself down her throat. “Not the punishment itself, but the threat of it. The
fear.”

Once he was satisfied with the job she'd done, he placed the tip of his cock back into her waiting
mouth, groaning again as she started to suck. She concentrated her attention on the spot under his
head, running her tongue along it every time she pulled back. Scaramouche shuddered and tilted
his head back. The sight of his pale neck, his Adam's apple jumping as he swallowed in an attempt
to compose himself, made Mona's heart clench.

“I remember the look on that man's face as clear as day,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “The
apprehension. It was wonderful.”

Mona knew exactly what he was talking about. She'd witnessed that moment countless times, the
look of ice in Scaramouche's eyes and her own bated breath, like the second before a snake struck.

“People will tell you a good organisation relies on loyalty. It doesn't.” Slowly, he lowered his head
to look at Mona again. His eyes were slightly glazed, teeth gritted behind his lips. Over and over he
combed his fingers through her hair, as if he wasn't sure whether to pull them away or grab on
tightly. “If you want someone to do something for you, you have to scare them into it. Like that
guard. The one that tried to fuck you.”

Something broke in him with those words. Before Mona realised what was going on, Scaramouche
had grabbed her by the back of the head and started to pump into her more vigorously. Mona's
protests were muffled as she felt Scaramouche slip into the back of her throat again, no longer
caring whether she could breathe or not. His thrusts became harder, more possessive, his fingers
digging into her scalp, until at last he came with a groan.

“Swallow it,” he mumbled.

Mona had no choice but to obey him, swallowing back as much of the fluids in her mouth as she
could. When he pulled out and she could breathe again, she noticed he was trembling slightly. That
sometimes happened after he climaxed. It was one of the few times Mona ever saw him show
something close to weakness.

“Ah.” He ran his hand along his cock, then tucked it back into his shorts and did up the buttons.

Mona's thighs were aching from her having knelt for so long. Her throat, too. She collapsed back
onto her calves and concentrated on breathing normally and slowing the frantic beat of her heart.

The feeling of fingers on her shoulder had Mona looking up again. Scaramouche knelt down in
front of her, his usual look of smugness back on his face. He ran his thumb back and forth over the
corner of her lips, wiping away a wet patch.

“Is there someone you fear, then?” she asked.

Scaramouche paused. For a moment, his expression shifted in that way Mona had come to know of
 him and that he'd been gloating about just now; although it wasn't anger that rippled across his
features, but something else. A hint of vulnerability, perhaps? Either way, Mona was sure it was
something she'd never meant to have seen.

“Don't be silly,” he said in that sweet, cloying voice, brushing her hair off her face. Then he leaned
forward and kissed her.

As their lips melted together once again, Mona wondered just how much of that was true. Fear was
a normal, human emotion. Perhaps the most human of them all. There were even things she was
scared of – failure, small spaces, her master (although she'd rather die than admit that last one out
loud). If Scaramouche wanted to pretend that he was above all that, then Mona wasn't going to
argue with him.

And yet she had seen something in his eyes just now. As brief as it had been, there was no way
she'd imagined it.

Just what, or who, could be bad enough to strike fear into someone like Scaramouche?

Chapter End Notes

Follow me on Twitter for updates, snippets or if you just want to shout about the lack
of Scara content in the 2.5 update trailer :') @AbyssalWaltz
 Chapter 15
Chapter Notes

As this fic approaches its halfway point, I've made a plan for the second half. I'm
aiming for around 30 chapters and I'm really excited for the direction this fic is going
in, so thank you for all the support so far!

Weirdly enough, my favourite parts of this fic to write are the letters between Scara
and Dottore. I imagine their written voices are far eloquent than their spoken ones.
Also, I headcanon Scaramouche as having neat, looping, classical handwriting while
Dottore's is more of a spidery scrawl. Signora would probably have looping
handwriting like Scara, maybe a little less extravagant but still beautiful. Childe? I
don't think the man can write. /j

Nah, Childe would probably have quite simple, untidy handwriting. I think Mona
would be the same. She strikes me as a good artist, though.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The Kamisato Estate looked different to how Mona remembered, though she supposed that was
more to do with the circumstances than anything else. The last time she'd visited, she'd been in a
panic, too caught up in the aftermath of the Tenryou raid to appreciate the beauty of her
surroundings. Now, as she sat in the wooden pavilion with her friends and watched the fireflies
drift through the night air around her, she couldn't have been more at peace.

“I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't an accident,” said Thoma, running a hand down the thin
ponytail at the back of his head. “I had it cut this way on purpose.”

“None of us were thinking that, Thoma,” said Yoimiya with a laugh. “But now that you mention
it...”

“It suits you. I like it,” said Mona, smiling at Thoma from across the table.

“See!” Thoma smacked his palm like he'd just won a bet. “Milady mocked me for it when I started
growing it out.”

Ayaka, who was sat opposite him, raised a hand to her mouth to hide her giggles. “All I said was
that you and my brother seem to have a similar taste in barbers.”

Mona had briefly met the brother in question, Kamisato Ayato, when she'd arrived at the estate
earlier in the evening. He'd seemed pleasant enough, with a striking facial resemblance to Ayaka
and, of course, the same little ponytail as Thoma. He'd apologised for not being able to join them
for the evening on account of official business he had to take care of in the city. Not that Mona
minded. It felt cosier with just the four of them sitting here with their cups of sake and the leftovers
of the meal they'd just shared. Even Ayaka, who'd come off to Mona as a little cold last time, had
warmed up considerably, smiling and joking along with the rest of them.

Mona reached for the large carafe in the middle of the table and topped up the cup she was
drinking from. She could already feel the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream, making her
head swim and leaving her comfortably warm. The others weren't faring much better, either, though
Thoma appeared to be the worst. For someone who'd proclaimed at the beginning of the night how
little he normally drank, he'd certainly done well in sinking the equivalent of almost a whole carafe
by himself.

“Like a true Mondstadter,” Mona teased as she poured the remainder into the cup Thoma was
holding up for her.

“Well, I have to pay tribute to my birth nation every once in a while, don't I?” he said, tilting his
cup up in a mock toast before taking a large swig. The light from the lanterns that hung from the
eaves reflected off the black metal of his headband.

“Is it true what they say about the people of Mondstadt?” asked Ayaka. “That they drink with
breakfast, lunch and dinner?”

Out of the four of them, she was the only one still sitting in the seiza position, legs tucked neatly
beneath her and hands resting on her knees. Mona had switched to a lot more relaxing cross-legged
position after the first five minutes.

Mona grinned. She'd heard just about every joke there was to tell about Mondstadt's love of drink
over the years. Her personal favourite was that the average Mondstadter didn't need a jar of vinegar
in order to pickle an egg; they only had to breathe on it.

“I'd say the rumours are exaggerated, but back in the city, I lived next door to one of the taverns.
The amount of noise the drunks made every night was ridiculous.”

Her heart jumped painfully with nostalgia as she remembered her Mondstadt house. The city here
was so quiet in comparison to living next to the Cat's Tail. Then again, she probably wouldn't be
thinking that were she living higher up in the city where the bars and restaurants were.

“I was a couple years shy of the legal drinking age when I left Mondstadt, but I remember visiting
the Angel's Share with my father a few times,” said Thoma. “The bartender always made me
something non-alcoholic while my father had a beer.”

“My grandfather sometimes let me have a sip of his sake when I was little,” Yoimiya added. “I
didn't like it until I was older, though.”

“And now look at you, shamelessly drunk in the middle of the Kamisato Estate,” said Thoma with
an exaggerated gesture.

“You can talk!”

As the pair started elbowing each other playfully, Ayaka turned to Mona and asked, “Do you miss
your old life in Mondstadt?”

“A little,” said Mona truthfully, running her thumb around the rim of her cup. “It's been a month
now, and I think I'm still getting used it here.”

“A month, six months, a year. There's no set timeline for this kind of thing, so please try not to
worry. I think you're doing very well as you are.”

Despite the fact she couldn't have been past her teens, Ayaka's words always carried a dignity and
elegance that stretched beyond her years. Mona couldn't help the blush that coloured her face at the
compliment. “Th-thank you.”
Her attention was drawn by the sight of Thoma snatching the carafe from the centre of the table
and rising to his feet. “Well, I'm going to get more sake, if that's okay with you, Milady.”

“Please,” said Ayaka, at which Thoma bowed his head and sauntered off towards the house, a little
unsteadily on his feet.

At once, the pavilion felt a little lonely without his presence, their group of four fragmented, if only
for a few minutes. Mona took advantage of the quiet to address the pair that remained: “Thank you
for inviting me around. It really does mean a lot.”

“You're more than welcome,” said Ayaka with a smile. “I needed to make up for last time,
anyway.”

Last time. Mona could be imagining it, but she sensed the atmosphere shift, a coolness settling
between them despite the heat of the night as they all remembered the circumstances that had
brought them here weeks ago.

“How are they now?” Mona said. To little surprise, Ayaka didn't have to ask to know who she was
talking about.

“About as good as can be expected,” she replied grimly. “We sent Hina back to live with her
parents in Konda Village. As for Akira, he mainly just sits by the window in his room, staring at
the sea day in, day out.”

Mona assumed Akira was the servant she'd seen cowering in the sand. She glanced over her
shoulder at the spot, just a few feet beyond the borders of the pavilion. A shiver went down her
spine.

“And you, Lady Ayaka?” asked Yoimiya. “Did anything happen with the Tenryou Commission
afterwards?”

Ayaka's smile was tinged with bitterness. “I got a visit from Kujou Sara the next day, but there
wasn't much she could do except lecture me. As far as I understand, the worst of the situation was
settled by my brother in the city, for which I'm grateful.”

“Kujou Sara?” Mona had heard the name before, even if she couldn't place where.

“The leader of the Tenryou Commission,” said Yoimiya, leaning forward on her elbows. “The
Shogun's lap dog.”

“Well, I'm not going to speak ill of one of my fellow Commission leaders...” Ayaka mumbled,
turning her eyes downward.

Yoimiya, on the other hand, couldn't keep silent. The mention of Sara's name seemed to have lit a
fire within her. “Did you know she once threatened my father? It was over some stupid false
accusation from a passer-by that he was testing fireworks in the streets. In other words, absolutely
nothing. I didn't like that woman back then and she's only gotten worse since the Vision Hunt
Decree started.”

“She sounds like a joy,” said Mona dryly, adding her to the mental list of people to avoid.

Yoimiya downed the last of her drink, then reached for one of the remaining prawn skewers on the
table, which she jabbed in Mona's direction like a cautionary finger. “Mark my words, Mona. Stay
away from from that woman. She's nothing but trouble.”
“Who are we talking about? Not me, I hope.”

The sound of a man's voice had them all looking up. Mona had been so engaged in her
conversation with Yoimiya, she hadn't realised Thoma had returned.

“No, not you. And last I heard, you weren't a woman,” said Yoimiya with mock indignation.

“Or the head of the Tenryrou Commission,” Mona added.

“Ah, so it's the delightful Ms Kujou, then.” Thoma sank down onto his knees and placed a pair of
carafes onto the table. Mona could have sworn he'd only taken one with him.

“Thoma, your collar.” Yoimiya gave a sigh and tapped him on the shoulder, prompting him to twist
so that his face was facing her. She placed her skewer between her teeth, then started to fiddle with
his collar, which had become upturned on one side while he'd been away. Once she was finished,
he leaned back enough that he could flash her a grin.

“Thank you, dear.”

“You're welcome, sweetie,” she replied with a ruffle of his hair.

That was when it hit Mona. How had she not realised it before? From the beginning, she'd assumed
that Yoimiya and Thoma were simply close friends, but suddenly, all their interactions so far – the
jokes, the mock arguments, the physical contact – took on a new light.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Mona mumbled. “I never realised.”

The pair of them turned to look at her in unison, confusion playing across their faces. Then Thoma
burst into giggles. “You didn't honestly think...”

“...That we were together?” Yoimiya cut in.

Mona blinked. “You're not?”

At once, she felt like an idiot as the table descended into hysterics around her. Even Ayaka couldn't
help laughing into her sleeve.

“Come to think of it, we did date for a while, didn't we?” said Thoma once he'd recovered enough
to speak again. He leaned over the table and refilled everyone's cups before finishing with his own,
then bent one leg up and leaned his elbow onto it.

“As teenagers, for about five minutes,” said Yoimiya. “We never got past the hand-holding stage,
though.”

“I was so nervous back then,” said Thoma in a tone that suggested he was inwardly cringing over
the memory.

“You were like a little puppy,” beamed Yoimiya. Turning to Mona, she asked, “So, what about
you? Have you found anyone in Inazuma you like?”

Mona's heart leaped.

“Or maybe there's someone back in Mondstadt,” Thoma suggested.

“How romantic,” said Ayaka dreamily.

“But tragic.” Yoimiya took a bite of her skewer at last. “I can't imagine what it would be like to
leave someone you love behind.”

It took a few seconds for Mona to find her voice. The words threatened to stick in her throat.
“There's no-one back in Mondstadt, no. I haven't found anyone here, either.”

She'd resolved long ago not to tell any of her friends about Scaramouche. The decision was both for
her sake and theirs: the less they knew about her involvement with the Harbinger, the less danger
they'd be in should anything go wrong with their arrangement. But more than that, it was the shame
of it all. If any of them found out that she was sleeping with a Fatui to pay off a debt, she had no
idea how she'd be able to look any of them in the eye anymore.

To her relief, none of them seemed to find anything strange about her reaction, except perhaps for
Thoma, whose gaze lingered on her inquisitively for a few seconds longer than the others'.

“We could always sort you out if you needed it,” he said with a shrug. “There are plenty of good-
looking people about.”

Yoimiya almost spat out her prawn. “Thoma, you can't just assume she's looking for something
like that.”

“I was only offering! What's the point of being a fixer if I can't offer a little matchmaking on the si
—”

Mona pushed herself to her feet, cutting Thoma off mid-sentence. Suddenly, she felt the weight of
three pairs of eyes on her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I think it's the alcohol. I'm going to take a walk to clear my head.”

“Do you need help?” asked Yoimiya.

“It's fine,” Mona assured her, already backing away. “I won't be long.”

She strode across the pavilion, down the steps and out of the gates, nodding to the guards on watch
as she did so. The path outside the walls led down into Chinju Forest, its ethereal blue glow and
densely-packed trees all the more surreal under the moonlight. Instead of venturing in and possibly
getting lost, Mona took a left, following the wall until she came to the cliffs and could look out
over the sea to Inazuma City.

She loved this view, probably because it was the only one that allowed her to see all the city at
once. She remembered standing on the outskirts on her second day here, staring up at the buildings
built into the slope. Of course, under the moon, those buildings had been reduced to silhouettes
with the Tenshukaku, the residence of the Raiden Shogun, standing proudly at the top of it all.

Is she in there right now? thought Mona. Does she realise the devastation she's wreaking upon her
country?

It was a passing thought, but it filled her with anger all the same. Reluctant to get entangled more
deeply in her own emotions, Mona let her eyes drift to the right, where a furious mass of purple
clouds swirled in the distance. Seirai Island. A mass of black rocks and sharp peaks enveloped by
an everlasting thunderstorm, according to one of her customers. While a part of Mona was eager to
go there for the sake of curiosity, she couldn't see it happening anytime soon. Even from a distance,
she could sense the inhospitality of the place. It reminded her of standing on the deck of the
merchant ship and looking out at the storm clouds surrounding Inazuma.
The sound of laugher punctuated the air behind her. Mona could easily pick out Thoma's voice
above the others. An image of him sitting there across the table, his gaze lingering on her as
Yoimiya quizzed her about her love life. It wasn't their fault. It really wasn't. How were any of
them supposed to know about her situation if she wasn't prepared to talk about it? Still, it didn't
stop it from hurting. The fact that they could all sit around and talk casually about dating like
normal adults; and then there was her, trapped in a glass box only she could see.

Mona leaned back against the stone wall and closed her eyes. As hard as it was with her analytical
nature, there was a reason she tried not to think too deeply about her situation with Scaramouche.
Now that her initial hatred of him had gone and they'd settled into something of a routine, she
realised just how isolated she'd become. She'd dismissed it at first: she was surrounded by people
on the daily thanks to her shop, and Yoimiya and Thoma visited her often. Never in her life had she
been so utterly spoiled for company.

And yet she couldn't speak to any of them about what really mattered. Her customers only knew
her casually. Scaramouche wouldn't talk to her about anything he didn't find interesting (and, as the
very source of her problems, she'd be damned if she opened up to him, anyway). She'd considered
spilling everything to Yoimiya and Thoma, but knew she only had one shot in that regard. The
moment her secret was out, there would be no taking it back, and with her hydromancy as
unreliable as it was at the moment, she hadn't been able to predict how that conversation would go.
A part of her wanted to believe they'd be understanding. After all, they were her friends, and it
wasn't like Mona was involved with Scaramouche beyond the terms of their verbal contract. If they
kept it to themselves, there was no reason for the Fatui to think them involved or come after them.

So, why was she still so afraid?

Out in the trees to her left, something rustled. Mona snapped her head around. It was almost
impossible to tell in the dark, but she could've sworn she'd just seen a figure disappear around the
edge of the wall.

Mona took a step forward, then paused. It was probably stupid to investigate given that she was
disarmed, alone and a little drunk, but it only took a few seconds for curiosity to win over reason.
Making sure to keep her footsteps light, Mona followed the wall to the end, lunged out and caught
a figure by the sleeve just as they were trying to flee.

She'd expected a guard, or even one of her friends playing a joke. The man before her was neither.
Mona jerked him towards her, grabbed him by the lapels and slammed him into the wall hard
enough to make him yelp.

“Couldn't be here in person, so he sent one of his men to spy on me, huh?” she snarled.

Even under his mask, the Fatui's shock was tangible. It took a few moments for him to compose
himself enough to shove Mona off him.

“Do not question the Balladeer's decisions,” was all he said in response.

“Oh no, I'm sure he has my best intentions at heart,” Mona snapped.

The Fatui gave her an icy glare before pushing off the wall and disappearing into the trees. Mona
neither had the will nor the energy to go after him.

She was just about to head back when a voice called her name. She turned to see Thoma making
his way towards her.
“There you are. I was worried you'd fallen off the cliff.” The urgency in his tone suggested he was
only half joking.

“I'm fine,” said Mona. She forced a reassuring smile before letting him lead her back to the gates.

The next morning, Mona headed straight to Hanamizaka.

“I need to see Scaramouche,” she barked at the agent standing guard at the Fatui base. He was the
same man she'd met before, and to little surprise, his response was a repeat of what he'd told her
last time.

“He's not in.”

The memory of the spy from the previous night and the hangover pounding at her skull had left her
in no mood to argue. She ignored the agent and stormed past him, only to be stopped by an arm
across the door.

“I just told you,” hissed the agent. “He's not in.”

Mona sighed, then turned and looked at something over his shoulder. Her eyes widened. “Oh,
Archons.”

The man spun just in time for a jet of water to hit him square in the face. Mona took the
opportunity to push him out of the way, throw open the door and run inside. The agent shouted
after her to stop, alerting the pair of Fatui inside, but Mona descended into her torrent and sped
down the corridor, only emerging when she reached his room at the end.

Maybe she'd be punished for breaking in like this. Maybe Scaramouche would send her away
without talking to her. Mona didn't care. She was livid, and she would say her piece.

Sliding the door open, she shouted, “Sending a spy after me is a new low even for you—”

She paused. Sunlight spilled in through the window on the back wall, highlighting the sparse,
simple furniture, the futon rolled up neatly at the side, the mountain scene he'd been painting now
hanging from the wall. Her heart dropped as she looked around. Her trip had been pointless. The
room was empty.

Footsteps thundered in the corridor behind her, and a voice called out: “I told you to stop.”

Mona turned to see three agents running up to her. The one who'd been guarding the door stepped
forward and grabbed her wrist, but Mona managed to jerk her hand away before his grip tightened.

“Where is he?”

The two agents behind looked at one another, as if deliberating what they could tell her. One of
them let out a sigh. “He's gone.”

Mona raised an eyebrow. “Gone?”

“A business trip,” said the one next to him. “That's all you're getting.”
 Reaching out with her subconscious gained Mona a slither of insight. He was telling the truth. They
all were.

She snorted softly and started to walk, satisfied when the men moved aside for her. Whatever
'business trip' Scaramouche was on, he hadn't told her about it, meaning he'd probably be back
within a day or two. Or a week, with any luck.

“You're lucky he likes you so much,” the door agent called out to her.

Mona didn't let herself think too deeply about what that was supposed to mean. She only scoffed
inwardly once again and muttered under her breath, “Am I, now?”

Dottore,

An update. I'm still keeping my distance from the astrologist, but continue to observe her closely. It
is likely she will remember me from our meeting at Musk Reef and treat me as an enemy straight
away, so I believe this is a more effective method of gaining data than making myself known to her
so early. Truly, she is a marvel. Her hydromancy will indeed prove to be a valuable resource for
us. The moment I feel I have gathered as much information as distant observation can provide, I
shall make contact with her and see how things go from there. If necessary, I shall use force, so
rest assured she will be ours.

I'm taking a short trip away from Narukami Island on an unrelated matter. The only reason I write
this is because rumours of my absence might get back to you, and the last thing I want is for the
Tsaritsa to think I've abandoned this mission in favour of my own personal endeavours.

Scaramouche

P.S. As rare as it is for me to pay you a compliment, I must congratulate you for the modifications
you equipped me with back in Snezhnaya. Even though my close contact with the astrologist has
been minimal, she hasn't suspected a thing so far. Apparently, you can do something right for once.

Chapter End Notes

Twitter @AbyssalWaltz
 Chapter 16
Chapter Notes

The world is in a state right now, hence why it's taken a little longer to get this chapter
out. I wish everyone affected by the current events good health and love

If you prefer to read in Russian, please support the wonderful Russian language
translation of this fic, translated by lina_livingston and beta read by sammirlyd.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Another day, another trip to the post office. Mona had started to enjoy her little walks since making
them part of her morning routine, and while the overall temperament of the worker behind the
counter, Manhachi, hadn't improved much since her first visit, he had begun to acknowledge her
presence with more than a grunt or a few curt words. Sometimes, if she was lucky, he even greeted
her by name.

“Morning, Mona. Parcel for you.”

“Oh?” If there was one thing that could pick up Mona's mood in an instant, it was news that she'd
been written to. “Does it say who it's from?”

After briefly disappearing into the back room and returning with a brown package in his hands,
Manhachi mumbled, “Can't tell, but there's a fancy looking stamp on the back.”

As he handed it over, Mona saw that there was indeed a stamp in place of a return address. Her
heart jumped as she recognised the logo of The Steambird.

“Oh! This is from Fontaine.” She took the opportunity to stick out her chest proudly in true
peacock style. “I write an astrology column for a magazine there.”

The man shrugged in an 'And why am I supposed to care?' kind of way.

Determined not to let his mood put a damper on her excitement, Mona gave the package in her
hands a squeeze. It seemed she'd been sent far more than just an issue, judging by the weight and
shape. However, it was the money that mattered, and as relieved as she was to have her words back
in print, she only hoped that there was a cheque for a few Mora waiting between the pages, too.

She was about to leave, when an idea hit her. She turned back, waggled her finger as if she'd just
remembered something and asked, “By the way, my friend has gone away for a while and I offered
to pick up his mail for him. You wouldn't happen to have anything for a Scaramouche, would
you?”

Manhachi folded his arms. “No.”

Mona's eyes flicked to the back room he'd retrieved her parcel from. “You're not going to check?”

“I'd remember anything that came in under a name like that.”

“What about the Balladeer?”

He snorted. “Your friend wouldn't happen to be in the circus, would he?”

“The Fatui, actually,” said Mona matter-of-factly.

The man barely flinched at the mention of the organisation, but then again, why would he? To the
average person, the Fatui were diplomats, and it wasn't like she was revealing her relationship with
Scaramouche by mentioning his name. Come to think of it, most people probably didn't even know
the names of the Harbingers in the first place. Mona herself only knew of one other, Tartaglia,
because she'd heard Scaramouche mention him in passing one day.

“Fatui mail doesn't pass through here,” said Manhachi. “The Snezhnayans have their own lines of
communication.”

“Is that so?” Mona smiled. “I had no idea.”

“Seems like something your friend should've told you beforehand.”

“Oh, he's an idiot. Sometimes I think he likes to keep me in the dark.” Mona waved her package in
the air. “Thank you, Manhachi. You've been very helpful.”

Once she was back in the street, Mona started back towards her shop. It was only a ten minute walk
– perfect for a stretch of the legs during her break. As was usual for this time of the morning, the
city around her was bustling with people going about their daily shopping or hunting for
somewhere to eat. She only hoped a few of them would take the time to swing by her shop.

Having said, business had been steady recently. Not booming, of course – she doubted she'd ever
get to that stage – but enough so that her working hours had been kept busy by a consistent stream
of customers. She supposed word of her business had gotten around to everyone who'd be
interested by now, since most of her patrons were those who returned every week. Mona had even
gotten to know a few of them by name, though she rarely saw them outside of business hours.

About two minutes away from her shop, Mona spotted something up ahead. A figure was crouched
at the side of the road with his back to her at an angle. She recognised his red jacket and blond hair
at once.

“Thoma?”

He looked up at her, smiled and beckoned her over.

It wasn't out of the question to see him here in the city, but Mona still had to marvel at the
coincidence. When she was a few paces away, Thoma placed a finger over his lips and pointed at
something ahead of him.

He was crouched in the mouth of a thin alley between two buildings. As she leaned over his
shoulder, Mona saw that he was pointing to a black and white cat. It eyed her wearily before
returning to the small pile of chicken it was wolfing its way through.

“Isn't he lovely?” Thoma whispered. “I don't think the little guy's had anything proper to eat in
ages.”

In his hands he held the remainders of a cooked chicken thigh he must have picked up from one of
the food stalls nearby. He ripped off another strip, pulled it into bite-sized pieces and added it to
the pile. Once again, the cat backed away at the sudden movement, then carried on eating.

“He's gorgeous,” said Mona with a grin. She'd seen a few stray cats around the city before, but
they'd always run away before she'd had a chance to approach them. This one, on the other hand,
didn't seem to mind Thoma's presence at all.

Once he'd stripped as much of meat from the bone as he could and offered it to the cat, Thoma
straightened up, placed his hands on his hips and turned to Mona. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You know I work down the street.”

“Oh, right. So you do.”

Thoma reached up and scratched the back of his head, a gesture Mona had noticed he made when
he was stalling for words. To take the pressure off, she offered him her arm. “Tell you what,
Thoma. Why don't you walk me back?”

He did just that, hand on her upper arm as they made their way to the shop. Mona noticed his gaze
drift over to her a couple of times before snapping back. Finally, he came out with it: “Say, Mona.
You wouldn't happen to have any days off coming up, would you?”

Mona's lips curled into a smile. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I mean...” He scratched his head again. “Of course, there is a reason, but I wouldn't
want you to get the wrong impression, you know?”

Mona had a feeling she knew what was coming up, but decided to play around a little anyway.
“And what impression would that be?”

“Well, considering I was going to ask you to hang out—”

“Hang out?”

“As friends, of course.”

She stopped them both suddenly and turned to look up at Thoma. A slight blush had spread across
his otherwise confident expression, though that could as easily have been a result of the morning
heat as any emotions.

When she'd decided she'd left him hanging long enough, Mona placed a hand on his shoulder. “I'm
taking tomorrow off.”

Thoma blinked. Then he grinned. “I'll pick you up at ten.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She left him there in the street with the excuse that she had to get back to her shop. It wasn't a lie.
When she turned into her alley, there was already a man waiting for her.

“Could you hurry up? I've been waiting for ten minutes.”

“I was on break. There's a sign on the door,” said Mona with forced politeness, pointing to it as she
took out her keys.

The man grunted in response, as if it was her fault he hadn't read it. The irritation that stabbed at
Mona was so strong, it distracted her from how wildly her heart was fluttering in her chest.
 *

Dear Ms Megistus,

Please find enclosed your complimentary copy of this month's The Steambird, featuring your
written column on Page 10. I have also included a free limited edition gift available only to certain
readers, as well as a cheque for 1200 Mora.

Thank you for your contribution. I hope you continue to write for and take an interest in The
Steambird.

Henry Valentine, Chief Editor

Mona looked over the letter balanced on her knee before turning her eyes back to the magnifying
glass in her hand. The handle was polished wood, slightly curved and etched with an intricate leaf
design. She hadn't expected to receive something so extravagant for free. The item itself was
probably worth more than her cheque alone.

Placing both the magnifying glass and the letter down on her futon, Mona turned back to the
magazine. She already had it open on Pages 10 and 11. Her column, All Things Astrological, took
up almost half a page. She'd kept the subject matter simple to ease her back into writing again,
concentrating on the web of fate and how one's life was plotted across the stars from the moment of
their conception. The more general the article, the more positive the feedback she usually received.
After all, people enjoyed reading about that which they could understand, and fate was a subject
that walked that fine line between rationality and the mystical unknown that was astrology for
most non-practisers of the art.

Speaking of fate...

Mona lay back against her futon and stared up at the ceiling. It had been five days since she'd
found out Scaramouche had left the island. She'd enjoyed her time alone at first without the
pressure of having to share her space with the Harbinger or put up with his degrading comments,
but with each passing day and no news, not even a message from the Fatui, she'd started to suspect
that something was wrong. Perhaps he'd had to leave in an emergency; or, more likely, he hadn't
thought her important enough to tell about his plans. Either way, Mona was on edge.

You're just used to him is all, she'd told herself over and over. She supposed it was a point. The
man had bullied his way into her life and set himself down like a stubborn horse. Of course she
was bound to feel his absence for a few days. It didn't automatically mean she had any... other
feelings going on.

Clenching her jaw, Mona rolled onto her side and looked out across her pillow. Sure enough, it was
only moments before she locked onto a short dark hair clinging to the corner. She picked it up and
rolled it between her fingertips. She'd been finding Scaramouche's hair all over her bedroom this
past week. His smell was on her pillow, too, and her sheets. All of them little traces of him that
seemed determined to linger no matter how much she brushed them away.

There was something symbolic in that. Scaramouche would probably have a field day gloating if he
knew. Or maybe, like so many other things that concerned her recently, he simply wouldn't care.
 *

Scaramouche,

I'm pleased to hear about your progress, as slow as it may be. However, your last correspondence
concerns me. Who gave you permission to leave Narukami Island? I would like to take this
opportunity to remind you that you were sent to Inazuma for one mission only: to investigate the
astrologist. Whatever 'unrelated matter' you have chosen to pursue CANNOT and WILL NOT come
before that mission. This is imperative.

I await a swift response confirming that you have returned to Narukami Island and are following
your original orders once again. You wouldn't want the Tsaritsa to doubt your capability for this
task, would you?

Regards,

Il Dottore

Chapter End Notes

Twitter @AbyssalWaltz
 Chapter 17
Chapter Notes

Now presenting this absolute UNIT of a chapter at 6.8k words. I know that isn't long
compared to some chapters on this site, but considering my average across all my fics
is about 1.8k, I'm pretty proud of this one. I think it changes up the dynamic of the fic
a little bit. How, you ask? I wonder

In the meantime, I'm gonna need you all to check out this absolutely breathtaking art
by @ruxin_art. The fact this fic is inspiring such talented people to create art is so
touching. Thank you so much ;-; Also, thank you for 20k hits! I'm not a stats person
per se, but that's a mad number for a pairing that aren't super popular within the
fandom.

Last but not least, the first chapter has received a Vietnamese translation by
@aiichnnn! I've linked it in the author notes of the first chapter. Please give them your
support if you'd prefer to read in Vietnamese :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Here you go, Sir and Madam.”

Mona leaned back as the waiter placed two steamer baskets and two bowls of miso soup down on
the table between her and Thoma.

“Amazing,” said Thoma with a grin as the waiter left their room. “I've been looking forward to this
all afternoon.”

Judging from the excitement in his voice, he might as well have been talking about an expensive
gift rather than the gyoza they'd just been presented with. Mona couldn't help but smile along with
him as he pulled the lids off the baskets one by one, revealing two sets of perfectly steamed white
dumplings.

“Here. I was thinking we could split them so we both get the same.” Without waiting for Mona's
input, Thoma took one of the plates, placed three gyoza from each basket onto it and handed it
over. Then he did the same for himself and cleared the baskets from the table.

“It's been ages since I last had yaki-gyoza,” said Mona, remembering the cafe she'd visited on the
market street a few weeks before.

Thoma gestured with his chopsticks. “Technically, there are mushi-gyoza.”

“What's the difference?”

“Yaki are fried before they're steamed. These ones aren't.”

Curious, Mona picked up one of the dumplings and bit it in half. Sure enough, the skin was a little
softer than the ones she remembered, though the inside was just as flavourful.

By the time she'd finished one, Thoma had already wolfed down two dumplings and was now
stirring his miso soup with a spoon. “So, you're getting the hang of Inazuman food culture, I see. I
bet you haven't been to a teahouse yet, though.”

Mona was grateful she was wiping her lips with a napkin at that moment so that Thoma couldn't
catch the way her features stiffened. “Not exactly. I walked past the Yamanara Teahouse in the
upper city once.”

“I went to that one with Milord a couple of years ago. It's way too snooty for my tastes.” He lifted
the bowl of soup to his mouth, took a sip and smiled. “Yup, you're way better-off here.”

Mona was inclined to agree. The establishment they were sat in now, the Komore Teahouse, was
similar to the one she'd went to with Scaramouche in many ways: the private rooms, the tatami
floor, the low table they were sat either side of. However, it was clear just the short time they'd
been here that this one was far more laid-back. The room was decorated with lanterns and a folding
screen, and since they were visiting in the day as opposed to the evening, sunlight streamed in
through the window, highlighting the gold of Thoma's hair.

It was the first time Mona had seen him wear traditional clothing. The kimono he'd chosen was the
same wine red as his jacket with a brown leaf design, open at the neck just enough to expose the
middle of his collarbone. Mona's, on the other hand, was pale blue with golden fish swirling up and
down the material. The fit was more comfortable than anything she'd ever known. It was like
wearing a blanket.

She still couldn't believe that Thoma had been kind enough to buy it for her. In fact, it had been one
of his first suggestions when they'd met up earlier today.

“We really should get you a new outfit,” he'd remarked as they'd walked towards the market street
together.

“What's wrong with the one I have now?” Mona had replied, only half-faking the hurt in her voice.

“Nothing. I just see you wear it a lot, and I can't imagine you brought over much from Mondstadt
in that tiny satchel of yours.”

While he had a point there, Mona still stuck out her chin defiantly. “I happen to like this outfit.”

Thoma laughed. “And it suits you, don't worry. But come on, let me buy you some clothes. I have a
friend who owns a kimono shop and gives me discounts.”

Well, that changes everything, Mona thought. She wasn't about to refuse something for free.

“Is that because you work for the Yashiro Commission?”

Thoma scratched his head, the first hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks. “Actually – and don't
tease me for this – we used to date. It was years ago, mind, and nothing came of it, but we've been
good friends ever since.”

Mona stared at him to try and discern if he was joking or not, but the silence that followed said it
all. The corners of her mouth curved upwards. “You know, Thoma, I'm starting to think you just
date people for five minutes to get discounts.”

“Th-that's not true! Besides, Yoimiya would never give me a discount on her fireworks. If
anything, she'd charge me double.”

They passed a food stall at the side of the road. Thoma steered Mona towards it and, after
confirming that she hadn't yet eaten breakfast, bought a stick of dango for each of them. The
woman behind the stall smiled at him cheerfully as she handed back his change.

“Did you date her, too?” Mona teased once they were out of earshot, earning her a playful elbow to
the ribs.

The dango was soft, chewy and not overly-sweet, to Mona's pleasant surprise. By the time they'd
reached the market street, she'd eaten the whole thing.

As usual, the centre of the city was bustling. It felt strange coming here with someone else, given
that she was often alone when she strolled around this area during her work breaks. That said,
Thoma's presence by her side felt surprisingly natural, as if this were the hundredth time they'd
hung out as a pair instead of the first.

He led her to an open-fronted shop at the far end of the street. Mona had passed it a few times, but
never properly stopped to look. The name, Ogura Textiles and Kimonos, was displayed on a sign
that hung over a small shop selling materials and garments.

“Ms Ogura,” said Thoma as the pair of them approached.

The woman behind the counter looked up and smiled brightly. She looked to be in her late
twenties, with dyed pink hair and and lips painted to match.

“Thoma!” she exclaimed, coming out from behind the counter and bowing her head. “And please,
it's Mio.”

“Ah, of course.” Thoma gestured towards Mona. “May I introduce my good friend Mona
Megistus?”

The woman's eyes widened. “The astrologist?”

“Yes,” said Mona, a little smugness working its way into her voice. “I'm surprised you've heard of
me.”

“Of course I have. We're a small city, and your business is one-of-a-kind here in Inazuma. Now,
what can I do for you two?”

As she and Thoma started to discuss different types of clothing, Mona felt her eyes drift around the
shop. The place was packed with bright materials and garments folded nearly on the shelves or
hung on display from hooks. As much as she hated to admit it, Thoma was right – she did need
some new clothes. The outfit she was wearing right now, along with the extra articles she had in
her room, were all things she'd picked up in discount stores in Fontaine, and she hadn't been to
Fontaine in years. That, alone, should say enough.

“Hmm.”

Mona looked back to see Mio staring at her from head to toe. “I can see you like your astral
colours. It's a good look for you.” She walked over to a nearby shelf and pulled out a roll of dark
blue material with a swirling silver pattern. “How about this?”

“Oh, that's gorgeous,” said Thoma, running a hand over it.

“Wait,” said Mona as the realisation dawned on her. “You don't have to make me something from
scratch.” While she usually wasn't adverse to having others spend money on her, she wasn't about
to let Thoma shell out for a custom-made outfit, discount or not.
“I'm afraid I don't have anything similar to this design made up already,” said Mio.

Mona scoured the walls until her eyes fell on a hanging pale blue kimono.

“How about that one?” she asked, pointing to it.

“By all means,” said Mio. “Let's try it on.”

She swept aside some materials to reveal a body-length mirror and unfolded a paper screen around
it, creating a makeshift dressing room where Mona could change into the garment. She'd chosen it
completely on a whim, and although the colour and fish design was something she wouldn't dream
of wearing normally, she found herself becoming fonder of it with each passing second. The
material was light and airy against her skin and the obi belt cinched her waist in tastefully.

“That looks beautiful!” said Mio when Mona emerged.

“It really does,” said Thoma, and for a moment, Mona thought she was something glisten in his
eyes. “Although, if I may make one adjustment...”

He motioned for Mona to turn, then loosened the bow at the back slightly and tied it. “You don't
want this too tight, otherwise it'll strain the material.”

“I was about to point out the same thing,” said Mio.

Thoma's hands lingered on Mona's waist just long enough for heat to rise in her cheeks. Luckily,
she was facing the wall, so nobody else noticed.

“I really can't stress how kind this all is of you,” said Mona as she picked up another gyoza. “First
the clothes, now the food.”

“Nonsense,” said Thoma with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You're doing me a favour, too. I
love my job, don't get me wrong, but Archons, have I needed a day off. Lord Ayato has been
working me to the bone this past week.”

Mona cast her mind back to the gentleman she'd briefly met the night she'd last visited the
Kamisato Estate. Despite his polite but haughty air, she could well imagine him barking out orders
should the need arise.

“And, since we're alone, there's something else I have to ask you, too.”

Mona's shoulders stiffened. “There is?”

“Mm.” In an instant, Thoma's face had gone from calm to anxious. Clearly, this was something
he'd been working up to for a while. “I'd say I don't mean to pry, but the fact is it is rather personal.
And I wouldn't even be asking if Yoimiya hadn't mentioned it—”

“Just say it, Thoma.”

“Your debt.”
“Oh.” Out of all the things Mona had feared he'd bring up, that was far from the most alarming, not
least because she already had a story planned for moments such as this. “It was a shock at first, and
I'm still pretty pissed off about it, but I have some savings in an account back at Mondstadt a friend
is sending over to me. The rest I'm paying off fine with my earnings.”

“Is that true?” asked Thoma, glaring at her.

Whether it was from the scepticism in his voice or the way his gaze seemed to bore into her,
something broke in Mona at that moment.

“No, it's not,” she muttered.

Thoma waited for her patiently.

“I'm doing some work for the Fatui.” Just saying those words made Mona feel dirty. She shoved
the ends of her chopsticks into the last remaining gyoza and pushed it around her plate absent-
mindedly. “It's nothing much, just a few astrological readings now and then. The money's good.
Much better than what I earn at my shop. But I promised myself I'd never use my astrology for
profit. It's one of the values I've stuck to for as long as I've been practising.”

After a long pause, Thoma gave a stiff nod. “I see.”

“There's a man who oversees me. A Harbinger. Sometimes he comes to my shop to check up on
me. Some of the customers have seen him before.”

“And has he ever hurt you, this Harbinger?”

The urge to confess everything to Thoma on the spot rose up in Mona, but she swallowed and
shook her head. “No. He's just... a little intense. He's also been gone for the past six days and I
don't know when he'll be back.”

Another silence fell across the table, interrupted only by the sound of Thoma stirring his soup with
his spoon. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Seems like the perfect time to do some digging, then.”

“Huh?”

Thoma raised an eyebrow. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it's just... I wasn't expecting that.” Looking down, Mona realised she'd torn her gyoza into so
many pieces it was pretty much inedible. She placed her chopsticks down and pushed her plate
away. She'd had enough to eat, anyway.

“I'm not suggesting you turn his living quarters upside down or anything, but why not take the
opportunity to find out a little more about this Harbinger while he's away? Speak to his colleagues,
ask around the city. Seems to be that any organisation in need of your astrology that badly has
something else going on behind the scenes.” He clapped his hands together like he'd just had a
thought. “I could come with you!”

Mona had to suppress a grimace. It was obvious the Fatui's reputation in Inazuma wasn't nearly as
notorious as it was on the mainland. Even so, it was a reckless suggestion. Surely Thoma realised
that?

But of course, Mona told herself, he didn't know how deep her connection to Scaramouche went.
He hadn't watched him murder a man, or beat another to an inch of his life, or been threatened by
him over and over. If she got caught poking her nose in Scaramouche's business, Thoma probably
assumed she'd receive a reprimand. In reality, there was no limit to how low he could stoop to
punish her.

And yet I asked Manhachi for his mail yesterday without even considering the consequences.

Mona tried to block it from her mind as Thoma settled the bill and they left the teahouse. She could
already feel her mood start to sour after such a pleasant start to the day, and if Thoma's constant
glances back were anything to go by, he'd begun to notice, too.

“Hey,” he said at last, “you're not annoyed with me, are you?”

“Of course not,” said Mona. Just worrying about a man who isn't even here. As usual.

They'd been walking along the path that meandered back to the market street for a few minutes
when a man's shout sounded somewhere to the left, stopping the pair of them in their tracks.

“That came from the Police Station. Come on,” said Thoma.

Before Mona could protest, he'd grabbed her by the wrist and started to lead her along the path.
Sure enough, when they arrived at the entrance to the courtyard a few buildings over, the sight
before them was one to behold. A small crowd had already formed around the open gates. Soldiers
stood inside, polearms trained on a huge figure on his hands and knees shouting abuse at the
woman who stood over him.

Although Mona had never seen her before, she knew her name at once. Kujou Sara was a tall,
poised woman with a glare like steel, one that was currently aimed at the man floundering at her
feet.

“For the last time, control yourself or you'll be arrested,” she snapped.

Mona was about to ask someone in the crowd what had happened, when she saw the glowing
amber gem clutched in Sara's hand. A Geo Vision. Her heart fell.

“Give me a rematch,” roared the man. When he lifted his head, Mona was shocked to see that there
was a pair of thin red horns sticking out of his white hair. “I'll beat you properly this time. You'll
see.”

Sara only narrowed her eyes.

The sound of someone pushing through the crowd next to Mona made her look around. It was
Thoma. She was about to ask him what in the Archons' name he was doing, when he burst into the
courtyard, attracting the attention of the guards.

“Please wait,” he said, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. To Mona's relief, his Vision was
tucked into his back pocket out of sight. “I can help.”

Sara pursed her lips as if she were deciding whether to have him sent away or not, but after a
moment, she motioned at the horned man. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“Yes, Madam. I can calm him down.”

“See to it that you do. He's causing a scene.”

As Thoma knelt down next to the man and placed a hand on his shoulder, Mona's eyes returned to
Sara. Not a hint of emotion crossed her features as she handed the Vision to one of her guards, then
motioned to the gates. The people parted to let them through.

All except one.

Sara stopped in front of Mona, who was blocking her path. “Something you'd like to say?”

The words alone were a challenge, but it was those cold, hard eyes that lit a rage inside Mona. She
remembered the servant clutching his head in the sand at the Kamisato Estate, the tears in
Yoimiya's eyes as they'd sat over the cliff afterwards. So much pain and misery brought about by a
single decree and enforced by one person.

It was then that Mona realised. This was a woman she hated with every inch of her soul.

“Well?” Sara barked.

Mona was about to speak when she spotted Thoma over Sara's shoulder. He was staring at her with
wide eyes, pleading with her silently not to exacerbate the situation.

Her hands squeezed into fists. Then she sighed and looked down at her feet. This was a battle she
couldn't win. Not right now, at least.

A guard grabbed Mona by the arm and shoved her aside, allowing the rest of them to pass through
onto the street. Sara glanced back over her shoulder. “I'm just obeying orders, girl. Maybe you
should learn how to do the same.”

Mona had to bite her tongue to keep from responding. With her cheeks burning from the weight of
the stares on her back, she marched over to Thoma and dropped to a crouch in front of the man he
was tending to. “How is he?”

“He has a name, you know,” snapped the man, though the tone of his voice was closer to
frustration than actual anger.

“All right, Itto,” said Thoma wearily. “Let's focus on getting you back home, shall we?”

Mona glanced back at the gates. The guards and Sara were gone, though several people continued
to stand about and watch the scene before them. They looked away when Mona's gaze fell on
them.

With a growl of exertion, Itto pushed himself to his feet. Thoma had always felt tall to Mona, but
Itto dwarfed him by several inches. Once again, Mona found her eyes drawn to that pair of horns
on his head.

“Like them?” asked Itto, pointing to them. “They're for attracting lightning, though I think in this
case I caught the wrong kind of lightning, you know?” His roar of laughter at his own joke quickly
dissolved into a groan of pain as he looked down at his thigh. The material of his trousers was
ripped and blood was clinging to the edge.

“Did you and Sara have some kind of a fight?” asked Mona.

“Yeah, for my Vision. But don't worry, I'll get it back. She has to agree to a rematch sooner or
later.”

Judging by the cold look on Sara's face as she'd stood over him, Mona wasn't quite sure how true
that was, but she said nothing. Itto seemed in surprisingly good spirits for someone who'd just had
his Vision taken away, and the last thing Mona wanted to do was dampen them.
The trip through the city was slow and awkward, but they managed it fine. Thoma shouldered most
of Itto's weight while Mona kept pace on the other side, offering a shoulder to lean on when they
went down a set of steps. As it turned out, Itto was actually a much more pleasant person than
Mona had anticipated. He called himself an oni and knew Thoma because he occasionally turned
up at the Kamisato Estate to have beetle fights with Ayato, whatever that meant (though Thoma's
withering expression explained more than words could ever hope to achieve). He also head of a
gang based in Hanamizaka, which was where they were headed now.

Yet with every step they took, a sense of unease grew at the back of Mona's mind. Just how long
would it be before Itto's babbling turned nonsensical? Before he dropped to his knees and lost his
mind like the servant at the Kamisato Estate? They were almost at the edge of the city, and Itto's
Vision was all the way at the other end. Surely that was enough distance for him to start suffering
ill effects? She'd never thought about the technicalities behind losing your powers before. Did
distance even have anything to do with it, or was it based on time? Or perhaps it was the literal act
of having your Vision taken by force that severed the tie, and since Itto had handed his over semi-
willingly as the result of a duel, he would slip more slowly into madness than the others.

When they reached Hanamizaka, Thoma led Itto to a little house by the river. A man with a wide-
brimmed hat was sitting on the steps of the porch smoking something and flicking through a
newspaper. He almost dropped both of them when he saw the approaching trio.

“Boss?” he cried out, rushing forward. “Has something happened?”

His eyes fell on Itto's collar, presumably the place where his Vision had once sat. He swore loudly
and rushed back into the house. Moments later, he returned with two more men who swarmed
around Itto and, declaring their thanks to Mona and Thoma, ushered him into the house.

Mona stared at the door that had just slammed shut in front of them. The world suddenly felt
abnormally quiet without Itto's babbling.

“It is over?” she asked, a little uncertainly.

“Looks like it,” said Thoma with a shrug. “The Arataki boys are a good bunch at heart. They'll
look after him.”

Arataki. Itto had mentioned that was the name of his gang. This must have been their base, Mona
thought, looking up at the house again. It was so quaint and unassuming, she'd never have guessed
it housed petty criminals.

Then again, it wasn't the only building in Hanamizaka whose quiet facade hid less-than savoury
people within.

Neither of them spoke as they picked their way up to the city until, at last, Thoma broke the
silence: “Sorry. Today wasn't exactly what I had in mind.”

Mona glanced up at him, and the look on his face was so downtrodden, she almost wrapped her
arms around him on the spot, just to perk him up. “It's not your fault. I'm glad we helped Itto, and
everything that came before then was lovely.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course.”

Relief filled Mona as the hint of a smile returned to Thoma's face. They'd reached the main path
now, and their heels clicked against the stones. The sound was oddly relaxing against the backdrop
of stillness.

Just before the first set of steps, she grabbed Thoma's wrist and brought the pair of them to a stop.
“I'm probably going to head back to the house for a few hours, but I was wondering if you'd like to
meet up again this evening.”

“Oh.” The look of surprise on Thoma's face quickly melted into enthusiasm. “I'd love to! Shall I
pick you up again?”

Mona shook her head. “Meet me at the southern edge of Chinju Forest.”

“Of course.” A pause. “But why?”

“There's something I'd like to try out.”

Mona arrived at the forest just after sundown, and as promised, Thoma was waiting there to meet
her. He'd changed from his kimono into his normal red jacket and light armour, just as she'd
switched back into her leotard. Not only did she prefer moving around at night in dark colours,
she'd be heartbroken if she ended up tearing the delicate material on a stray branch.

“You haven't been waiting long, have you?” she asked as she approached.

“Not at all,” said Thoma, pulling her into a light hug. Mona noticed he'd strapped a polearm with an
elegant silver point to his back. She was glad. Even though her Vision afforded her protection,
there was nothing wrong with a little extra defence in case anything happened.

Before coming to Inazuma, Mona had never experienced anything like Chinju Forest. Every region
had its natural wonders, of course: Mondstadt had the eerie but beautiful Stormterror's Lair; in
Liyue, there were the staggering heights of Huaguang Stone Forest; and Fontaine boasted the
Cascadia Nix, a huge waterfall that shimmered gold thanks to the unique bacteria that lived in the
lake above. Truly, Chinju Forest was the gem of Inazuma – at least, in Mona's opinion. The
luminous blue undergrowth cast a haunting glow against the trees, and there was an earthy,
fragrant smell in the air, like rain on summer soil, despite the fact it had been dry for weeks now.

“I spoke to Itto again earlier.”

Mona tore her gaze away from a firefly she'd been watching flit through the trees to look up at
Thoma. “How was it?”

“All right. I mean, he's doing better than I thought he would be. Just keeps babbling on about how
he's going to fight Kujou Sara again.” Thoma scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose it's better
than losing his mind.”

“You don't think...”

“Think what?” Thoma asked when she trailed off.

Mona sighed. She had no idea how deep Thoma's understanding of Visions went. Even the bulk of
her own knowledge was based on speculation at this point. Still, she supposed she was going to
have to tell him sooner or later.

“Yoimiya and I have a theory. We spoke about it the first night I visited the Kamisato Estate. We
believe that a person's Vision is a manifestation of their life's ambition.”

“I've never thought about it that way, but I guess you're right,” said Thoma. “So, when it's taken
away, the person forgets their ambition and that's why they become... the way that they are?”

“Exactly. I don't know what Itto's life ambition was, but when Sara took it away, it could be that he
developed a new one in that moment, separate to the one his Vision represented. That new
ambition is to fight her and get it back. That's the reason why he hasn't become listless yet –
because his mind is so hellbent on pursuing that new goal, he has no room to be.”

The more Mona spoke, the more she expected Thoma to laugh and tell her she was looking far too
deeply into things, but to her surprise, he nodded thoughtfully. “That makes a scary amount of
sense.”

“It's just a theory,” said Mona. “We could wake up tomorrow and Itto could have lost all his life
like the others.”

It was a sad thought, but then again, the idea of a seven foot tall oni man raging around Inazuma
with a one-track mind for revenge wasn't exactly the most comforting notion, either. She'd been
thinking about Itto all afternoon and coming up with theories as to why he hadn't acted like he had

Problem solving had always been her forte, and while it wasn't the most uplifting subject, it kept
her mind off Scaramouche for once.

It was also the reason she'd brought Thoma out here.

They came to a stop at a clearing between the trees. With no canopy above them, the moonlight
shone down uninterrupted, far brighter than anywhere else on the island. Mona wondered whether
that was part of the forest's illusion. The stars, too, were out in full force. Clear nights like these
had always been her favourite. Back when she'd lived as a wanderer, she'd only had to tip her head
backwards to find herself lost in the stars, plotting the constellations like they were the pages of a
map.

“Right,” she said to Thoma. “Do you have your Vision on you?”

It was a stupid question, but he produced it nonetheless. “Right here.” The red gem glowed
between his fingers. “You know, you still haven't told me what we're out here for.”

“A test, nothing more. Could you do something with your magic?”

The corners of Thoma's lips turned up. “Is this part of the test?”

“Just set something on fire, Thoma.”

Clearly, he saw through the put-on exasperation in her voice, as he took his time unstrapping the
polearm from his back and getting into position in the middle of the clearing. He twirled the
weapon once above his head, then looked up at Mona with a grin. She nodded back.

The next moments passed so quickly, Mona almost missed them. Thoma dug the hilt of his
polearm into the ground, grabbed it with both hands and kicked upwards into a somersault. At the
peak of his acrobatics, a barrage of flames erupted from the bottom of his boots. Mona felt the blast
of heat on her face from several paces away.
His movement was so fluid, it was mesmerising. Mona had seen Vision-holders incorporate their
elemental arts flawlessly into their movesets before – several members of the Knights of Favonius
came to mind – but she'd never have expected it from someone like Thoma. After a glance in her
direction, he picked up his polearm, spun it in a circle around him like an oversized majorette baton
and launched it at the nearest tree, sending out another wave of flames as he did so. The tip buried
itself in the bark so deeply the weapon remained sticking out.

“Where did you learn to do that?” asked Mona, unable to keep the awe out of her voice.

Thoma placed his hands on his hips and exhaled. “It's nothing much, really. When I first joined the
Kamisato Clan as a teenager, Milord insisted I learn to fight under a professional tutor, and I've
been training ever since. Mostly for fun, of course, but it's good to know I'm able to defend myself
should the need call for it.” He flexed an arm, which made Mona snort.

“And show off, of course.”

“That, too. Did it work?”

“A little,” said Mona, glad there was no way he could tell her pulse was racing.

“That's good enough for me.” Once he'd pulled his polearm free of the tree trunk, Thoma turned
back to her. “How about you? Milord is a Hydro user, so I'd like to compare how the two of you
move.”

No pressure, then, Mona thought scornfully, but she took her place with one foot in front of the
other anyway. “Just don't expect anything amazing, okay?”

“If it's coming from you, I'm sure it'll be perfect,” Thoma beamed.

Mona relaxed her shoulders, held out her hand and called on her Vision, which lay safe in her
pocket where she kept it nowadays. She imagined a sphere of water appearing in her palm, growing
and shimmering as she drew on the moisture in the air.

Nothing happened.

Mona's heart lurched. She tried a second time, but again, her powers wouldn't respond.

“Are you okay?” Thoma asked, stepping forward.

“Fine.”

The sharpness of her voice made him freeze on the spot, but Mona was too preoccupied to
apologise. As panic rose up in her, she raised her hand, gritted her teeth and drew on her Vision
with all the will she had.

At last, something wet moved against Mona's fingers. The moment she felt it, she grabbed hold of
it and swept her arm down in an arc. The water followed in a messy spray. Thoma only just
managed to jump out of the way in time to avoid getting hit.

Mona stood there in the aftermath, chest rising and falling with her breaths. Her right arm was
soaked up to the elbow – something that rarely happened when she used her Vision anymore.

She'd lost control of her Vision before, had troubles with her astrology, but never had she failed to
summon her powers altogether.
I'm not thinking straight. That's why it happened, she told herself. To make sure, she traced a circle
in front of her and breathed a sigh of relief when a constellation appeared. She dissolved it quickly
with a flick of her hand.

“Just a hiccup. I'm fine,” she said in the most reassuring tone she could manage. “Sorry.”

Thoma made his way towards her slowly, concern painted across his face. “Are you sure? We can
sit down, if you'd prefer—”

“No,” Mona cut in. “Really, I'm fine. Here.”

She deliberately hadn't told Thoma the exact nature of the test she intended to carry out because
she'd suspected he'd object. Sure enough, when she handed him her Vision, his eyebrows knitted
together. “Mona...”

“Take it as far away from me as you can. I'll tell you when to stop.”

The idea had come to her this morning while they'd been taking Itto back to Hanamizaka. She just
needed someone to help her out. Normally, she wouldn't have dreamed of letting anyone else take
possession of her Vision, but if there was one person she trusted enough to do so, it was Thoma.

He seemed to understand, as he gave her a solemn nod and started to walk in the direction they'd
come from. Mona counted his paces. She wasn't sure what she expected to happen, if anything at
all, but at least this way, she'd know she'd tried.

“How are you doing?” Thoma called out, a vague figure in the trees up ahead.

“Fine,” Mona shouted back. “Keep going.”

He did as instructed, and Mona went back to counting. She'd stopped at thirty two paces... or had it
been forty two? No, that was too far. She shook her head and continued from thirty two as Thoma
walked.

And yet I swore I'd reached forty in my head, she thought to herself. She tried to flush the notion
from her mind, but it remained there like an itch she couldn't reach to scratch.

Something stirred in the trees behind her. Mona spun, ready to fight, but it was just a bird flitting
from one branch to another. She let out a deep, calming breath and turned back to find Thoma. He
was so far ahead now it took her several seconds to find him.

What's he doing that far away? she thought. Hadn't she asked him to stay close? Come to think of
it, she couldn't remember what instructions she'd given him in the first place. Something to do with
her Vision...

Her hand flew to her pocket, and alarm hit her as she realised her Vision wasn't there. That wasn't
right. She always kept it in her pocket. Had she dropped it somewhere?

No, she'd given it to Thoma. The memory returned to her now. She'd asked him to walk away with
her Vision and then... For some reason, she couldn't remember the rest. She placed a hand against
her head, and why was it wet? Had she fallen into a river at some point? Used her powers? But that
didn't make sense because her Vision wasn't here.

Her head snapped up. She couldn't see Thoma anymore.

Panic filled Mona's head like a fog. She looked up at the forest, and suddenly the trees were black
claws closing in around her. She took a step backwards, tripped over a fallen branch and hit the
ground hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs.

Thoma, she tried to shout, but the word caught in her throat. A look up, and the claws were drawing
nearer, threatening to clamp down and squeeze her between thin, wiry fingers.

Thoma! The word wasn't so much a cry as a mantra now, one that she repeated in her head over and
over. What did it mean? It sounded like a name, but she couldn't remember meeting anyone called
that, and why did her lower back hurt so much, and why was her hand wet? Why was she in a forest
where the undergrowth glowed blue?

She was about to scream, when a face appeared before her. Pale skin, blond hair, and green eyes
thrown wide.

Thoma.

He opened his mouth and spoke, but the words washed around Mona like warm waves on a shore.
It was only after watching his lips part several times that the words finally registered to her ears.

“Yes,” she mumbled. “I can hear you.”

Warm hands gripped her shoulders, and her memories returned to her in a flash. Bringing Thoma to
this forest, asking him to walk away with her Vision... It was as if she'd just broke the surface after
drowning beneath heavy waves. She grabbed Thoma's wrist with her right hand, and he placed the
gem into her left with a look that suggested it never should have left it in the first place.

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “I just wanted to know...”

As her words trailed off, Thoma slipped a hand under her chin and tilted her face up to look at him.

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

He was so close to her now, Mona could feel his breath tickling her cheek. She pulled her head free
of his hand and looked downwards, if only to avoid the heat of his gaze, and realised she was
sitting on the forest floor.

“Did I fall over?” she asked.

“I didn't see, but you were in a state. Mumbling to yourself, rocking back and forth.”

Just like the servant. A shiver ran down Mona's spine. She didn't remember any of that. The whole
time had passed by in a blur.

Thoma helped her to her feet. She mumbled her thanks while keeping her head down, though it was
only moments before she found herself looking back at those eyes. Where Scaramouche's gaze
burned through her, Thoma's was soft and gentle and so reassuring, she could lose herself in it on
the spot.

His hands gripped her waist like he was afraid she'd collapse if she stood on her own. Those hands
tightened slightly as his attention fell to something on her neck. Slowly, he reached up and lifted up
her mantle. Mona didn't have to ask to know what he'd found. She should have stopped him, but
she didn't have the will to.

“Your Harbinger, I presume?” he mumbled.

 The bruises left behind by Scaramouche were faint after a week apart, but still there on her skin,
like a brand of ownership. Mona squeezed her eyes shut as Thoma ran his fingertips over them.

“You don't deserve to be treated like this,” he whispered.

Mona nodded. “I know.”

She remembered the guard spotting one of her marks back in her shop, the shame she'd felt as he'd
taunted her for it. With Thoma, things were different. For the first time since meeting
Scaramouche, she finally felt like she could share what she'd been through with another person and
not have the blame shoved back in her face. It was more than having a shoulder to cry on. She felt
seen.

Thoma slipped his hand beneath her chin again, and this time, Mona didn't stop him from lifting
her face up to meet his. He bent down, and Mona caught one final look of those green eyes before
his lips brushed hers.

No.

Her head snapped to the side so sharply, it almost knocked Thoma off-balance. She used the
chance to tear free of his hold and stumble back.

“Mona.” Thoma looked like he'd just been slapped around the face. “I didn't mean to—”

“It's not you,” said Mona, and she meant it. None of this was Thoma's fault.

She just couldn't allow him anywhere near the mess of her life.

“I'm sorry. I have to go,” she mumbled. Then she spun and ran into the forest until Thoma's pleas
for her to come back faded into the distance behind her.

Chapter End Notes

I was debating adding the Thomona (Thomamona? Moma?) tag to the list as a heads-
up, but rest assured this will remain a Scaramona-only story. It wouldn't be a darkfic if
Mona actually went with the person who'd actually respect her and make her happy,
right? And believe me when I say things are going to get very dark again in a few
chapters. Poor Mona. I genuinely love her, despite the fact this fic is just chapter after
chapter of her straight-up not having a wild time.

And it would be REALLY bad if someone were in the forest watching her, right?

Would anyone be interested if I linked a mini playlist of songs for this fic adapted
from my Scaramona Spotify playlist? Of course, I'm always interested in everyone
else's song recommendations, too!

Twitter @AbyssalWaltz
 Chapter 18
Chapter Notes

Did you all see the 2.6 trailer? You did, right? Go and watch it right now if you didn't.
The chapter can wait. Trailer first, then chapter.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Idiot.

The word repeated itself in Mona's head over and over as she flew through the trees. She had no
idea if Thoma was following her – she hadn't sent so much as a backwards look in his direction
since she'd started running. A part of her wished he'd catch up, but then she'd have to face up to the
reality of what she'd almost just done, and she'd rather bury herself in a ditch.

By the time she came to a stop, her lungs were burning. She leaned against a tree and gulped down
breath after breath of crisp night air. No matter how much she tried to force it away, her mind kept
on returning to the moment she'd kissed Thoma. Except it hadn't been a kiss, had it? At least, not a
proper one. Their lips had only touched, and she'd pulled away before things could advance. A
misunderstanding, that was all. Thoma had misinterpreted her signals, and she'd been too dazed by
losing her Vision to tell him he'd gotten the wrong idea.

But had he been wrong? Mona could admit that the almost-kiss was a mistake – that much she was
certain of – but there was no denying the feelings she'd been having leading up to it. She hadn't
stopped him from roaming his hands across the marks left behind by Scaramouche, had wilfully
fallen into his arms as they'd stood in the clearing. It went back further than that, even. Since the
night at the Kamisato Estate, she'd felt herself developing feelings for Thoma. She'd brushed them
off as a silly crush while unintentionally stoking the fire: going out for dinner with him, letting him
buy her clothes, inviting him to the forest alone. She still couldn't believe how stupid that last one
had been in hindsight. The thought had even flashed through her mind as she'd been travelling here,
her confessing to Thoma and the pair of them kissing under the moonlight, before she'd dismissed
it as a fantasy.

Because that was all this was. A fantasy.

Thoma simply could not exist in the same world as Scaramouche.

Once Mona's breathing had returned to something resembling normal and her chest no longer
seared, she pulled off the tree and looked around. She didn't recognise this part of the forest. Then
again, despite its beauty, the whole place looked the same away from the path. She turned her head
upwards and used the constellations in the sky to orientate herself until she was facing south.

It would take a few hours to walk back to the city. Not that she minded. The journey would help
her clear her head, and she could always sleep outside if she grew too tired along the way. Before
arriving, she'd half-hoped Thoma would offer her a room at the Kamisato Estate for the night, but
clearly, that wasn't an option now. She only hoped he managed to make his own way back safelty.

She'd been walking for a couple of minutes when something rustled behind her. Mona looked over
her shoulder and scanned the treetops, thinking it to be another bird or one of the various little
animals that scuttled around this forest this time at night. Or even...

“Thoma?”

He couldn't possibly have followed her this far without her noticing. Still, Mona's heart thudded in
her chest as she waited for a response. When none came, she breathed a sigh of relief and
continued the way she'd been heading.

The arrow whistled past her ear and landed with a thunk in the tree before her. Mona froze, then
spun just in time to hear the snap of a bowstring. A second arrow came speeding towards her. She
dove out of the way a split-second before it met its mark.

From somewhere between the trees, a strangely familiar voice taunted, “Better start running,
witch.”

Mona didn't need to be told twice. Before she could even start to make sense of what was going on,
her body had slipped into its elemental form and was speeding along the path. It didn't last long.
Her torrent worked best on flat surfaces, and it all took was for her to crash into a couple of fallen
branches to force her back into her human form.

More voices shouted out from behind. From the sound of it, there were at least two of them, and
they were giving chase. Mona sped up her pace, hoping to the Archons that she'd be able to keep
her lead just long enough to find a hiding place or outrun them for good.

Another arrow sailed through the air, though this one was way off course and landed somewhere to
her right. The voice called out for her again: “Run all you want. It'll just make catching you all the
more satisfying.”

To Mona's horror, they sounded closer now. The urge to look back rose within her, but she blocked
it out, knowing it would slow her down. Besides, if her instincts were correct, she was almost at the
edge of the forest now. She just had to push her aching muscles a little further, and then—

And then what? Would her pursuers follow her into the open? Hunt her through the plains like she
was a wild rabbit? She doubted there would be anyone else around at this time of night to call her.
She'd be easy prey with nowhere to hide.

As the panicked thoughts stirred in her mind, Mona suddenly felt something slap her upper arm.
For a moment, she thought she'd been whipped by a low-hanging branch. Then she glanced down
and saw a dark spot blooming on her sleeve.

The shock at having been grazed with an arrow made her stagger a few steps. It was all the time
her pursuers needed to close the gap between them.

A dark figure passed by next to Mona. He was hooded, but she swore she caught a glimpse of a
smile on his shadowy face before he grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her off the path. The
top of her head slammed into a tree, and the world flashed white. The next thing she knew, she was
lying on the forest floor.

A ringing filled her ears, combined with the sound of laughter. Gritting her teeth, Mona summoned
the strength to turn her head towards the path. Three figures stood there, doubled over in a fit of
hysterics. One of them held what could only be a bow in his arms.

“Look how terrified she is,” said one. Again, Mona was sure she recognised the voice, even if she
couldn't place it.
“Probably thinks we're some kind of monsters,” teased the one with the bow. “Did I hit the nail on
the head, girl?”

The way Mona's mind was swirling, they might as well have been monsters, but she kept her lips
sealed regardless. With the way her Vision had been acting tonight, she didn't want to risk using it
against them and inviting further trouble. She just wanted them to go away.

“Looks like that's not the only thing you hit on the head,” said the first man again, to the snorts of
his comrades.

“Do you think we should leave her?”

“I'm not fucking carrying her all the way back to the city, if that's what you're suggesting.”

One of the men walked forward and leaned over Mona. “Oi, are you even awake?” When she
didn't respond, he kicked a scattering of dirt and leaves at her head and clicked his tongue.

They left quickly after that, leaving Mona lying there. She waited until their voices had faded into
the distance before letting out the breath she'd been holding in.

What the fuck had just happened?

Even now, she had no idea who the men had been. Fatui? City guards? A group of drunks who just
happened to have a bow and saw her running through the forest? Either way, their interest had
clearly run its course. She doubted they'd be back.

The wound on her arm smarted, but she'd experienced worse. It was her head that hurt the most.
She'd smacked it hard against the tree, and even though it was nowhere near bad enough for a
concussion, she could still feel the pain radiating through her in thick, nauseating waves. Closing
her eyes, she lay back and waited for the feeling to pass.

“Poor little Mona.”

Her eyes flew open again to see a new figure leaning over her. This one she recognised at once.
How could she possibly not? That mocking smile, those red-lined eyes, all of it was imprinted on
her mind like it had been carved into the inside of her skull.

“Go away. I know you're not real,” she mumbled.

Scaramouche laughed. He seemed to shimmer as he did so, as if to prove that her theory was
correct. “That may be so, but why should I go away? You're the one arguing with a ghost.”

Even as a figment of my imagination, he's insufferable, thought Mona with a grimace.

“If you're a ghost, does that mean you're dead?” she asked.

“Of course not, but you might end up that way if you lie there any longer.”

His words jolted Mona into sitting up. The sudden rush of blood to her head made her feel like
throwing up again, but she managed to hold it down and scour her surroundings. The forest was
deathly silent, devoid of wind or even the sound of animals. She turned her eyes to her sleeve. The
arrow had sliced through the material and the upper layer of flesh, but it had already stopped
bleeding. She'd live.

A pair of hands brushed her shoulders from behind. The touch couldn't have been more different to
Thoma's. Albeit gentle on the surface, there was a possessiveness in the way his fingertips roamed
her body, the light scratch of his nails a reminder that he could easily dig them into her skin if he
wanted to.

Mona sighed. This wasn't a hallucination. She knew Scaramouche wasn't real and could probably
have made him dance or stand on his head or disappear had she wished it so. But she allowed him
to stay, if only for the sake of having some company instead of sitting here alone.

“Tell me, is that what they call rock bottom?” Scaramouche whispered in her ear. “It must hurt,
knowing you've lost one of the only friends you have here.”

“Thoma won't abandon me because of a misunderstanding,” she said with certainty. “We were
friends before all of this—”

“That's not what I mean.”

Mona nodded. She'd had a feeling that was the case. She just didn't want to delve into it.

“We're not in a relationship,” she said. “I don't have feelings for you.”

Scaramouche scoffed gently. “And you still believe that?”

Imaginary or not, the words made Mona stiffen. She didn't have feelings for Scaramouche – at
least, ones that weren't borne from their physical affair. Deep down, she still hated him with
everything she had, and the moment her debt was repaid, she'd cut off every tie she had with him
and the Fatui.

Why did she feel like she was trying to convince herself instead of stating facts?

As his hands moved from her shoulders to stroking her hair, Scaramouche said, “In any case, you're
mine for the time being.”

“I'm not yours.”

“Can you even say that at this point? Look how far you've fallen. Once, you wouldn't even look at
me. Now you live your life at my beck and call. I'm probably a thousand miles away right now, but
you can't get me out of your mind.”

He had a point with that last part, Mona thought grudgingly.

“As I said, we're not in a relationship. Thoma and I haven't done anything wrong.”

“Oh, really?” There was an edge to Scaramouche's voice now, one that sent chills down Mona's
back. “You know what I'll do if I find out, don't you? To him...” His fingers seized the base of her
chin and tilted her head up, exposing her neck. “And to you.”

If Mona were to turn her head and look into his face right then, she was sure of what she'd find.
She'd been threatened by the real Scaramouche enough times to know the look of danger in his
eyes as well as her own reflection. Where others threatened violence to cause fear, he was a man
who carried through with his promises. Hugo's blood was enough proof of that.

She wasn't about to let Thoma meet the same end.

“I'd better not let you find out, then,” Mona whispered.

Scaramouche chuckled softly before removing his hands from her neck. “We'll see how long that
 lasts.”

Illusion or not, Mona had had enough. She willed him away, and sure enough, when she turned
around, she was relieved to find him gone.

The forest was silent again.

Mona dropped back to the floor. Whatever fumes she'd been running on up until now had finally
dissipated. She was exhausted.

Scaramouche had remarked that she'd hit rock bottom. She'd always wondered what it would feel
like to get here; to reach the point in her life when things were so bad they could only improve. The
truth was she was nowhere near rock bottom. There were still so many things that could go wrong,
and from the feel of it, that was where she was headed. Her Vision, her friends, her very ambitions.
Scaramouche would find a way to rob her of them all.

With her last slither of strength, Mona placed her hands over her face and wept.

It was dawn when she finally reached the lower city. The sight of the sun breaking over the eastern
horizon, flooding the island with brilliant golden light, should have been one to admire, but Mona
only held her hand up to shade her face and scowled. The journey from Chinju Forest had been
arduous, and now all she wanted was to curl up in her futon and sleep for the rest of the week.

Yet instead of walking onwards to her shop as she approached her road, she took a left towards a
lone building and knocked on the door. Within a minute, she was staring back at a sleepy face
framed with messy blonde hair.

Yoimiya's eyes widened as they took her in, from the dirt clinging to her clothes to the cut on her
arm. She didn't ask what was wrong. She simply wrapped her arms around Mona, smoothed her
hair down and said, “I'll boil up some tea.”

Chapter End Notes

He's back next chapter dw <3

Twitter @AbyssalWaltz
 Chapter 19
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Mona couldn't tell what it was that had made her take a detour to Naganohara Fireworks, but in
any case, she'd only meant to stop by briefly. As it turned out, she ended up staying the whole
morning.

“Are you sure you don't want to take a nap?” Yoimiya asked as they stood outside together under
the awning.

“Really, I'll be fine,” Mona assured her. A crisp breeze cut through the usual stifling heat, and
despite the physical exhaustion nagging at her muscles, she was enjoying standing outside with her
tea. She must have drunk two whole pots of it already.

“If you say so,” said Yoimiya.

Mona watched her straighten out a rail of hanging paper decorations on the other side of the
awning. She'd been brief with her recount of the previous night, telling her she'd left the forest after
meeting with Thoma and gotten run down by a group of strangers. Certainly nothing about kissing
Thoma. It wasn't that she was afraid of what Yoimiya would say. She just wasn't sure yet how she
felt about that herself, let alone enough to wrestle those feelings into words.

She'd meant to open up her shop today, but with her state, Yoimiya had suggested she take the day
off. Mona was inclined to agree. She'd run around and pinned a note on the door just before
opening time to say that she'd be away for the time being. If any customers didn't like it, well, they
could complain to the wall by the door. Mona didn't care.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked once Yoimiya had finished serving a client.

“Not unless you lean how to make fireworks real fast,” said Yoimiya. “That was a joke, of course,”
she added when Mona opened her mouth.

Mona had already seen the boxes of materials in the storehouse – Yoimiya and Thoma had helped
her move the majority of them from her shop in the first place. As far as she understood, firework
making was simply a matter of reading a formula and mixing chemicals in the right proportions. In
other words, not so different from astrology, which required reading a formula or graph and
applying that knowledge to observations. How hard could it really be?

Then again, if one made a mistake in astrology, the result was simply an inaccurate reading.
Making a mistake when explosives were involved was a whole different matter.

And so, Mona resolved to leave it to the expert and concentrate instead on drinking down her
family's supply of tea leaves.

A few hours past midday, Yoimiya disappeared inside and came out with a pair of glasses filled
with a light purple liquid and a plate of golden brown discs. She placed the plate on the wooden
boxes Mona was sat on and took a seat on the other side, legs folded beneath her.

“Here, to cheer you up,” she said, handing Mona one of the glasses. “This is a type of sake brewed
from lavender melons. My dad makes it himself.”
Mona hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. He said it'll stop you from drinking all his tea.”

Mona turned her head to see the old man smiling at them from the doorway of the house. She
waved at him, a blush of embarrassment spreading across her cheeks.

After taking a sip of the (surprisingly sweet, but nevertheless shockingly alcoholic) sake, she
looked down at the plate. “Hash browns?”

“Dad wanted to make something from Mondstadt for you.”

The gesture was touchingly sweet, but when Mona turned back to the doorway once more, she saw
that the man had gone. She picked up one of the hash browns and bit into it. The outside was as
crispy as the ones from Good Hunter, and the addition of sesame oil gave it a subtle nutty taste that
worked surprisingly well with the more traditional Mondstadt herbs.

“You know, I've been thinking,” said Mona between bites. “Those men who attacked me last night.
I think I finally have an idea who they might have been.”

“You do?” said Yoimiya. She hadn't brought up the subject since Mona had told her, but the
enthusiasm in her voice proved it had been foremost on her mind.

“Mm.” Mona's hand flew to her arm as she remembered the feeling of the arrow biting into her
skin. Yoimiya had cleaned and bandaged the wound for her within minutes of her walking across
the threshold this morning. “I never told you this, but back when I first arrived in Inazuma, I got
into some trouble with the law. It wasn't anything I did, of course. An... accident happened on the
ship I was travelling over on, and I was accused of having a hand in it.”

She'd half-expected Yoimiya to be shocked at her story, but she nodded solemnly while sipping her
drink. “That doesn't surprise me. Some city guards have been using the recent decrees as an excuse
to flout their duties, especially when it comes to outlanders.”

“Well, there was one in particular who kept pursuing me, even when his colleagues had dropped
the matter.” A shiver ran down Mona's spine as she remembered the guard forcing her against the
door. “I managed to fend him off in the end, but he has reason to hold a grudge against me.”

“You did mention you found one of their voices familiar,” said Yoimiya. “Do you really think it's
that guard and his friends taking revenge?”

Mona nodded. “It makes sense. One of them called me 'witch', and since I used my Vision in front
of the guard—”

“You used your Vision?” Yoimiya asked, alarm painted across her face.

“It was an accident, and I threatened him not to tell anyone. That's why it makes sense he'd go after
me like this. It's his way of getting his own back without using the law.”

It made sense. At least, Mona hoped it did. She'd considered that it might be Scaramouche sending
the Fatui after her as punishment for Thoma, but they'd already been in the forest that night. The
attack had been planned. Not to mention, it didn't seem like his style. Scaramouche was the kind to
clean up his own messes himself. Why would he allow his men to have all the fun without him?

Speaking of Fatui, there was something that had been playing on her mind all morning. Thoma had
suggested it during their meal at the Komore Teahouse the day before. She'd dismissed it back
then, but now she realised it might be her only chance at figuring out this situation, risky as it was.

Mona took another sip of her sake. Yoimiya had had a point when she'd said the drink would cheer
her up. She'd barely drunk half the cup, and already she could feel the alcohol buzzing in her head,
probably on account of her empty stomach. A part of her was grateful. She needed the courage for
what she was about to ask.

She grabbed another of the hash browns and took a bite. “What time do you normally close the
shop?”

“When it's quiet like this, around five. Why?”

Mona gave her a sheepish smile. “How would you like to meet the Fatui?”

It was evening when the pair reached the base in Hanamizaka. As always, that one agent stood at
the door, milling about aimlessly with one hand shielding his eyes from the bright light of the
setting sun. Mona almost felt a little sorry for him. The man must have had the most boring job in
the whole world.

“To think how many times I've passed this house and never realised it was belonged to the Fatui,”
said Yoimiya, standing at Mona's side.

It probably hadn't for long. Mona imagined the Fatui muscling the previous occupants out in order
to have a base near the city. Either way, she doubted it had been obtained by legitimate means.

“This way,” she said, signalling for Yoimiya to follow her around the back. The windows were all
shut off with blinds, but she still made sure to step carefully in order to avoid detection. Once
they'd found a bush at the base of a tree thick enough to hide them, they ducked down behind it and
peered out at the house again.

It all felt a bit silly, creeping around like spies from the detective novels Mona had read growing
up, but she wanted to do this properly, and she couldn't if the Fatui knew she was here. The plan
was simple: enter Scaramouche's room from the window and dig around for anything suspicious.
What 'anything suspicious' meant, of course, was still to be decided. A diary, a letter, something
that she could hold over his head if the need arose. Maybe she'd even find a few Mora lying around
that she could snatch up. The whole idea was risky, sure, especially with the three cups of sake
she'd downed over the course of the afternoon flowing through her veins, but given that she had no
idea how long it would be before Scaramouche returned, it was probably the only chance to
investigate she'd have.

“Will you be okay waiting here?” Mona asked.

“Yes, of course, but wait—” Yoimiya grabbed Mona's wrist just as she was about to move out from
behind the bush. “You won't do anything stupid, will you?”

“This whole plan is stupid.”

“Oh, right.” Yoimiya grinned. “Have fun, then.”

She loosened her grip on Mona's wrist, allowing her to pull free and creep towards the house. She'd
already voiced her concerns in the shop, but eventually caved on the condition that she got out the
moment she sensed danger. Mona had readily agreed. She had no intention of risking her life for
this, no matter the rewards.

Once she'd reached the house and found the window that belonged to Scaramouche's room, Mona
placed an ear to the wood and listened. She couldn't hear anything on the other side. Of course,
that didn't mean there was nobody inside, just not in the room. Cracking open the screen window
and looking in confirmed it. The room was empty.

Mona glanced back at the bush. Yoimiya was practically invisible behind it. She'd brought her bow
with her, albeit as a last resort. Either way, Mona felt a lot better knowing that she was being
covered. She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. For the last hour, she'd found herself
occupying that delicate space between tipsiness and outright drunkenness characterised by a
swollen sense of self-confidence. The rational part of her mind knew she had to be extra careful not
to be clumsy while she was inside, but she could manage that just fine. After all, she was Mona
Megistus, the greatest astrologist in all of Teyvat. Caution was in her nature, as was the art of
outsmarting every Fatui bastard that had stood in her path thus far.

This would be a walk in the park.

Mona pushed the window up halfway, then leaned over, hitched up a leg and pulled herself
through. It was a bit of a struggle, especially with the thin wooden wall shaking beneath her, but
eventually she was standing Scaramouche's room without having made a sound.

It felt so strange being here alone. The last time she'd glimpsed this room, she'd had the Fatui
shouting at her. The time before that... Well, she didn't have to dig deeply to remember that day.
Her eyes travelled to the right, where she noticed the large square pillow Scaramouche had fucked
her on for the first time leaning against the wall, and just like a switch had been flipped, she felt her
cheeks start to burn.

Focus, Mona.

The room was so simple that she had no doubt it would take her mere minutes to search. She
started with one of the only pieces of furniture in sight, a desk pushed into the back corner by the
window. It was so sparse, Mona doubted it was ever used, and a search through the drawers proved
her right. Apart from a pile of clean paper and set of paintbrushes in a neat leather pouch, they were
empty. There was nothing on the top, either, just for a couple of pencils and single potted plant.

Frowning, Mona ran her eyes around the room. There, by the door, she spotted a little brown box.
She'd assumed it was a doorstop at first and paid it no attention, but now that she properly looked,
she realised it was a shipping box. She crept over and peered down. Scaramouche's name was
written on the top in thick black ink.

Fatui mail doesn't pass through here. The Snezhnayans have their own lines of communication.

Mona's heart leapt as she recalled Manhachi's words. She had no idea what was inside the box, but
clearly, fate was on her side today. That knowledge fuelled her excitement as she picked up the box
and turned it over in her hands. It had been bound up with brown string tied in a knot. In other
words, it would have been exceptionally easy to tamper with. Not that anyone around here would
dare reading Scaramouche's mail, with her being the exception, of course.

But she wouldn't open it here in the base, not while she was still in danger. Satisfied that she'd
found what she was looking for, Mona walked back over to the window. She was about to climb
over when she heard something that made her blood freeze.

Footsteps.

Without thinking, Mona drew back her arm and threw the package out of the window as hard as she
could. It landed in the bushes nearby. She'd been planning to jump out after it, but as the sliding
door behind her started to creak, she realised she'd have no time to do so without getting caught.

She had to think fast.

The door slid open, and in walked one of the agents with a glass of water in hand. He walked over
to the potted plant and poured the water into the soil, humming as he did so.

Mona watched him from the space beneath the pillow. She'd transformed herself into her Hydro
torrent and hidden just as the man had entered the room. Now, she hoped to the Archons that he
left before she ran out of the energy needed to maintain her elemental form.

That hope was shattered when he turned to the open window and frowned.

Of course he'd been bound to notice it. Mona had been naïve to think he wouldn't. Still, a part of
her had thought that the streak of good fortune that had given her the box would continue long
enough for her to get out of here safely.

The man stuck his head out of the window, looked left and right. Then he pulled back and called
out, “Oi, Vic?”

The moment she heard his voice, Mona almost blew her cover out of shock.

“What?” called a voice from somewhere on the other side of the house.

“Have you been in boss's room today?”

“No, why?”

The man paused to rub at his chin in confusion. He peered out of the window again. Suddenly,
something appeared to catch his attention, as he swore under his breath, snapped the window down
and stalked out of the room.

No sooner had the door closed, Mona burst from her torrent, spraying water droplets across the
floor. She could usually stay in her elemental form for several seconds before the strain got too
much and she was forced out of it. Any more time, and she'd have revealed herself in front of the
agent. She knelt on the tatami, trembling with exhaustion as she tried to gathered the energy to
stand.

That voice... It was the same one she'd heard back in the forest. There was no doubt about it.

Better start running, witch.

Mona's hands curled into fists. How had taken her so long to work out? She'd heard the agent's
voice for the first time that day she'd come to ask for financial support, and again when she'd tried
to find Scaramouche last week. That other man, too. Vic. They'd both been there last night,
taunting her for their own twisted pleasure.

She should have left right then, taken the opportunity to slip out of the window and made a run for
it. But she didn't. Her decision to stay was consolidated as something banged in the corridor outside
and the agent shouted, “For fuck's sake, Vic, the next time you leave your weird Slime liquid lying
around, I'm throwing it into the river.”

An idea formed in Mona's head. Perhaps fate was on her side, after all.

She crept up to the door and, sensing there was nobody else on the other side, slid it open. Sure
enough, the corridor was empty. The agent had clearly run off to check whatever he'd seen outside
– probably Yoimiya causing a distraction, though Mona was sure she could handle it alone – and
Vic was probably in the reception area around the corner. She only hoped there was nobody else
lurking about.

She stole across the corridor to where a large box, similar to the one in Scaramouche's room but
several times the size, stood against the wall. The top was open and several bottles wrapped with
black cloths were visible inside. Mona slid open the nearest door, dragged the box into the room
and closed it again.

She had to be quick. Luckily, she knew exactly what she was looking for. Just as she'd hoped, the
bottles contained various amounts of Slime Condensate, arranged in rows according to their types.
There was Pyro, Hydro, Electro and Anemo, each useful in their own way for a myriad of everyday
uses, from polishing metals to powering lamps, or even as a fertiliser. They were also very, very
reactive when mixed with one another, hence the black cloths around the bottles to prevent
accidental reactions with sunlight. Being a Vision-holder and an astrologist, Mona was far more
aware of these reactions than the average person. She still remembered vividly the time she'd
thought she'd be clever and use Pyro Condensate to burn a piece of dirt from her clothing without
realising that she still had Electro Condensate on her fingers from where she'd been fighting Slimes
earlier on; the resulting reaction had eaten through the material and almost removed the skin off
her fingers.

Now, as she held a bottle of swirling red liquid in one hand and purple in the other, she felt a smile
pull at her lips.

After glancing back at the door to make sure she was still alone, Mona uncorked the Electro bottle,
poured half of the liquid out onto the floor and replaced it with Pyro. The mixture started to bubble
the moment the components met, tiny threads of lightning crackling furiously behind the glass. She
placed the cork back in, then left the bottle on top of the box, threw open the window and dived
out.

She'd barely made it ten steps through the trees when an explosion shook the world behind her.
Mona glanced back to see a gaping hole blown into the side of the building, fire and burning pieces
of wood raining down onto the grass. The heat alone was enough to make her eyes sting.

As she backed away, she could just make out a figure running into the room and waving away the
smoke in front of his eyes. He shouted something she couldn't hear before kicking a piece of fallen
debris and storming back into the corridor.

Mona had never been one to gloat in the wanton destruction of property, but by the Archons, was
this an exception.

“Your doing, I presume?”

The sudden voice made her jump, but when she turned, she was relieved to see Yoimiya standing
nearby, one eyebrow raised. In her hands she held the box Mona had thrown out of the window.

“An accident,” Mona said with a grin. It was only a half lie. She really hadn't expected the
Overloaded reaction to create such chaos. Even now, parts of the wall continued to crumble, the
crackle of Electro jumping between the flames.

“Sure, sure,” said Yoimiya, though it seemed she couldn't keep the smile from her face, either. She
jerked her chin in the direction of the city. “Come on, let's go. I think one of them is onto me.”

Mona remembered the agent who'd left the building first and nodded. The last thing either of them
needed now was to be spotted. Linking hands, they sprinted up the slope until the Fatui base was
far behind them and they were breathless with laughter.

Mona stared down at the box in her lap.

She'd been deliberating whether or not to open it for a while now. A part of her didn't want to break
the suspense. What if there was nothing but trivial things inside, and she'd risked hers and
Yoimiya's lives for nothing? As long as it remained closed and the contents a mystery, the box still
had value.

On the other hand, she really, really wanted to know.

When she could hold on no longer, Mona turned the box over and undid the knotted string. Then
she slid her finger underneath the cardboard flap and pulled it open.

Staring back up at her was the cover of a book. She frowned and picked it up. The cover depicted a
woodland scene with the silhouette of a lone swordsman beneath the title The Crooked Blade and
Other Stories: Part 1. Stacked underneath were the second and third volumes, along with an
invoice from somewhere called the Pechenga Publishing House. The address was in Snezhnaya.

Mona snorted. Had Scaramouche really sent for a set of books to be delivered all the way from
Snezhnaya? She flicked through the first volume. The prose was simple, characteristic of a light
novel. It was hard to imagine him engaging with something like this, even for nostalgic reasons.

Setting the books aside, Mona turned back to the box. One last item remained. Her heart leapt. It
was a blank envelope. With eager fingers, she tore it open and pulled out the letter inside. There
was no formal address, just three lines written in spidery handwriting:

I am sick and tired of waiting, Scaramouche. See you soon.

Il Dottore

Mona read the letter once. Then she read it again. Finally, she placed it in her lap and stared at the
wall.

Her head was already aching from the alcohol she'd drunk earlier. Who knew that a few words
could deepen that pain so intensely? There was nothing inherently alarming about the letter itself,
 yet she could glean the writer's anger easily. Il Dottore... It wasn't a name she'd heard before.
Another Harbinger, perhaps? It had to be. Only someone of equal or higher status would dare speak
to Scaramouche in such a way.

This was exactly what she'd been looking for, and now that she had it, she had no idea what to do
with it. From the way it sounded, Scaramouche had been neglecting something he'd been instructed
to do. Something to do with her? No, that couldn't be. Their meeting on the ship had been by
complete chance on his end. Fate or not, there was no way he could have premediated something
like her shop falling into debt and the eventual financial reliance she'd have on him. She'd already
cleared that much with the Kanjou Commission.

Reluctant to let her mind wander, Mona placed the books back in the box and slid it into her
cupboard. She was ready to place the letter there, too, but something told her to keep it on her
person. It was getting late – the sun had set an hour ago, and she could feel the exhaustion of not
having slept the night before catching up to her – so she stripped to her underwear, lay down in her
futon and read the letter over and over until she fell asleep.

She awoke several hours later to the feeling of something sliding up her inner thigh.

At first, she thought it was a dream and ignored it, but when the sensation persisted, her eyes
snapped open. A figure was leaning over her in the darkness. She was about to scream and drag
herself away, when the figure dropped its head to her ear and whispered, “Don't move.”

Mona's imagination was active enough to know when something was real or not, and this was no
hallucination. She forced her shoulders to relax as Scaramouche pressed his lips to hers, ran her
hand through his hair and found it as real as the bed beneath her. Scaramouche groaned softly at
the contact, the dance of his lips tinged with desperation, breaths heavy through his nose.

It made no sense that he was here. But of course, he had a key to her shop, didn't he? Content to
lose herself in the moment, Mona wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and let her eyes
drift closed.

And then they snapped open again, because she'd just remembered the letter lying by her pillow,
inches from her head.

Chapter End Notes

Gee, I think I know at least one thing that's gonna happen next chapter, and I'm sure
I'm not the only one who thinks they have a lot of lost time to make up for :')

As always, thank you to everyone who's following along. Comments are always loved
and appreciated! If you have a Twitter, feel free to give me a follow @AbyssalWaltz
and see you next week <3
 Chapter 20
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

If Scaramouche noticed the way Mona's body froze up at that moment, he didn't say a word. His
hands glided up and down her sides, squeezing at the soft flesh while his lips continued to ravish
hers with feverish, bruising force. He was like a drunk, clumsy and desperate for her touch.

And yet all Mona could think about was the letter.

She was grateful for the darkness, at least. Scaramouche was so fixated on her, he hadn't noticed
the small white envelope lying by the side of her pillow. Mona wanted to kick herself for not
hiding it away, but then again, why should she have done? The last thing she'd expected when
falling asleep was to be woken up again by a man who'd been absent for over a week, a man who
just happened to return at this most inopportune of moments. She untangled a hand from his hair
and slowly reached upwards for the letter, only for Scaramouche to catch her wrist and pin it to the
ground.

“I didn't know when you were coming back,” she mumbled, trying to keep her voice from revealing
her anxiousness.

“Surprise,” Scaramouche whispered. He dropped his lips to her jaw and left a trail of kisses down
her neck, each touch sending shivers across her skin.

Mona was torn. Pretend nothing was wrong and wait for the opportunity to hide the letter, or tear
her hand away from Scaramouche and risk him realising something was wrong? Either one was
risky, and the longer she took in making her decision, the greater the chance of him discovering it.
Mona didn't want to think of the outcome if that happened. Her chest felt so tight, she could barely
breathe.

Suddenly, Scaramouche raised his head, and for a second, Mona's mind went blank. Then she shot
up, pushed him back onto his calves and mounted his thighs. Her hand reached back and swept the
letter beneath her pillow and out of sight.

Mona found herself staring into Scaramouche's shocked face for a moment before she placed her
hands on his shoulders and kissed him hard. Now that she'd gotten rid of the evidence as best as she
could, she felt her body relax into the embrace, the tension that had built up draining out of her
muscles. Scaramouche ran his hands up the curve of her back and squeezed her against his chest.

She didn't have much on in the way of clothing, just her underwear and the loose shirt she often
wore to bed. Scaramouche, on the other hand, was still in his usual Harbinger's outfit. He started to
remove items one by one while holding Mona against him with one arm. First came his belt, which
he untied awkwardly and threw to the side. Then he shrugged off his short black kimono, along
with Mona's help. She ran her hands along his bare shoulders. His skin felt warm, despite the
coldness of his clothing after having just been outside. There were a thousand things she wanted to
ask him – where he'd been this past week, what he'd been doing, why he'd left so suddenly – but all
of it left her head when he lowered his head and whispered into her neck, “I missed you.”

Mona stiffened. In all the time she'd known Scaramouche, he'd never said anything close to those
three words to her. His voice was gentle enough to border on tender, his breaths hot against her
collarbone. Before she realised it, Mona was pulling back to stare at him. “Scaramouche, are you
okay?”

“Mm,” he mumbled, as if just remembering himself. Then he inhaled sharply, took her hand and
placed it against his groin. Mona was only half-surprised to find him rock hard. “Do you know
how long I've been dealing with that thinking of you?”

Knowing Scaramouche, he'd probably meant the line to be vulgar, but for some reason, Mona's
stomach fluttered. She pressed her knuckles against his erection and rolled them up and down,
eliciting a breathy groan from Scaramouche's lips.

To no surprise, the motions came back to her easily. She'd fallen into a routine with Scaramouche
in the couple of weeks before he'd left, and while she'd valued her time without him watching her
every move, a part of her had been secretly craving his return. It was purely physical, of course.
She still feared and despised him, and yet she arched into his touch when he slipped his hand
beneath her underwear and squeezed her arse hard enough to leave nail prints.

“Strip,” he whispered coolly in her ear.

Mona did as she was told, pulling off him and slipped her shirt over her head. Scaramouche did the
same, removing the last of his clothing until he was completely naked. The moonlight shone off his
pale skin. He crawled forward so that he was hovering over her, lowered his head and sucked a
spot at the top of her breast. Mona let out a whine as his teeth followed, grazing the skin before
nipping her hard. Her hand slipped down and found his cock, which she pumped a couple of times,
to Scaramouche's gratification if his gasps were anything to go by.

Without warning, he thrust a finger roughly into her. Luckily, she was already wet, so the intrusion
only hurt a little. He curled the finger upwards, earning himself a cry of surprise as his nail scraped
against Mona's insides. While not exactly painful, it was far from a pleasant feeling.

Apparently satisfied, Scaramouche pulled out of her and pushed her legs apart. Normally, he'd
spend more time teasing her first, but Mona could sense he was done with waiting tonight. His
breaths fell shakily from his lips, his eyes filled with a predatory hunger as he leaned over and took
hold of his cock, ready to push into her.

I missed you.

“Wait.”

Mona placed a hand on his chest to hold him back. Before Scaramouche could so much as glare at
her for telling him what to do, she pushed him to the side so that he was lying back on the futon.
She mounted him and took his cock in her hands once again. In her eyes lay a question.
Scaramouche granted it with a nod.

In all their time together, Mona had hardly ever taken this position. Scaramouche's fierce
dominance usually meant she ended up underneath him in some way, lying on her back or bent
over while he fucked her from behind, her hair gathered in his fist. Right now, the hands squeezing
her hips served as a reminder that he was still the one in charge.

Leaning on his chest to brace herself, Mona pushed up and positioned him between her legs.
Scaramouche exhaled as she sank down onto him. He stared up at her with half-lidded eyes, a tiny
smile forming at the corners of his lips.

Suddenly, he thrust up into Mona so hard his hips slapped audibly against her thighs. Mona let out
a yelp of pain as he filled her, hands curling into fists against his chest. He smirked.
“Well?” he said in that subtly commanding tone. “Ride me.”

Mona glared at him, though the ice in her expression melted away as she started to move her hips.
It took her a few seconds to find a rhythm. She'd half-expected Scaramouche to try and throw her
off-balance again, but instead he timed his thrusts to hers, thumbs tracing patterns into her
hipbones.

As much as she tried to concentrate on anywhere else, Mona found it was only a matter of time
before her gaze was drawn to Scaramouche. His dark hair fanned out around his face on the pillow,
lips parted, eyes shining with something between amusement and lust.

Apart from the occasional grunt under his breath, he was silent, apparently content to lie back and
allow her to lead. Mona was determined to take advantage of this window of control, however brief
it may be. She leaned over, placed her hands on the futon either side of Scaramouche's neck and
captured his lips in a deep kiss. Her tongue darted into his mouth, drawing a deep, low moan from
his chest. The sound made Mona's head swirl.

Slowly, Scaramouche ran his hands up her back, the pads of his fingers smooth and callous-free as
he slipped them over her skin. They lingered at the base of her neck, as if he were deciding whether
or not to close them around it, before he pushed himself up onto a sitting position.

The move was so sudden, Mona almost fell back. Luckily Scaramouche was there to catch her. He
seized her hips and slammed her down, sheathing himself inside her completely once again. It
could have been her imagination now that their bodies were pressed together more tightly, but he
seemed to reach deeper into her at this angle. Mona grabbed onto his shoulders and gasped as he
started to thrust upwards, bouncing her on his lap.

“Did you touch yourself when I was away?” he whispered into her ear.

Despite the crudeness of his words, Scaramouche's voice maintained its soft, almost tender edge.
Mona dug her nails into his back in response.

“Did you think of me while you did it?”

Of course she had. Even when she'd tried to redirect her thoughts to anyone else, he'd always
returned to take his place at the forefront, like a curse she couldn't shake. As if reading her mind,
Scaramouche giggled softly. Then he reached behind, unlatched of her hands from his back and
squeezed it between their chests.

“I bet you fucked yourself with these fingers every night, wishing it was my cock instead.” He
pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Did you scream for me when you came?”

A blush seared across Mona's cheeks, made even worse when Scaramouche reached his other hand
up and pulled on her hair, jerking her head back. He kissed her exposed throat, lapped at the sweat
with the tip of his tongue and sucked new bruises into the skin, all while his hips continued their
frantic rhythm. In just a few seconds, he'd managed to effortlessly rip away all sense of control
from her.

And yet, underneath it all, there was still that vein of gentleness; that hesitance in the way he
handled her, like he was afraid of being too rough. It was strange, and once again, Mona felt herself
thinking back to those words he'd uttered as he'd been undressing: I missed you.

She'd missed him, too, even if she was afraid to admit it out loud.

A low groan escaped Scaramouche's lips. He was close. Pulling her hair free of his grip, Mona
leaned forward, placed as much of her weight on his hips as she could and started to grind into him
hard.

“Like you weren't doing exactly the same to the thought of me,” she said.

She watched Scaramouche's eyes widen before he gasped and squeezed her hips hard enough to
leave bruises. Her hands found his cheeks and held his head in place, making sure his eyes
remained locked with hers as he came. There was a strange sense of power in it. He was usually the
one demanding her attention, deciding when and how she climaxed; to turn the tables, no matter in
how small a way, made her shiver with excitement.

When she could see he was coming down from his high, Mona released Scaramouche's head. He
dropped it to her shoulder, breathed out deeply and hummed. His fingers curled into the dimples at
the small of her back.

“You're right,” he muttered, a little breathlessly.

Scaramouche's hand came down on her arse so hard, it made Mona jump. Slipping his hands under
her thighs, he pushed her backwards onto the futon and crawled over her. A smile lifted the corner
of his lips. His hand brushed her heat before Mona had a chance to protest. Slicked by their
combined fluids, he slipped two fingers in as far as they'd go and curled them upwards, then placed
his thumb against her clit.

Mona threw her head back and bit her lip to keep from crying out. She'd been too busy helping
Scaramouche chase his pleasure to concentrate on her own. Now, she felt her thighs start to tremble
as he slowly ran his thumb in teasing circles around her clit.

Scaramouche's cocky smile was only just visible in the darkness. His hair hung down around his
face.

“Just don't get too full of yourself,” he purred in a voice that made Mona's heart jump. Then he
pulled his fingers out, pushed her thighs apart and lowered his mouth between her legs.

Sunlight was streaming in through the window as Mona opened her eyes. She blinked a couple of
times as her senses came to, sighed sleepily and turned over.

Scaramouche lay before her, his hand draped across her waist. The covers were pulled up to his
hips, revealing a flawlessly pale, lean upper body. His face folded in a slight frown, long black
lashes fluttering as he opened his eyes to stare at her.

“Morning.”

Mona grunted and closed her eyes. “Mm.”

Her head felt heavy after so few hours of rest. It'd been well into morning by the time they'd fallen
asleep, the dawn sunlight peeking though the window long before they'd untangled themselves
from one another's bodies. Mona wasn't sure what had gotten into her. She couldn't remember a
time when she'd been so utterly insatiable, to the point that she felt her cheeks start to burn as she
thought back to the night they'd shared. No doubt their time apart had had a lot to do with it.
 She was brought back to the present by a hand stroking her jaw and a pair of lips pressing to hers.
Scaramouche kissed her slowly and deeply, his ankle hooking around hers beneath the covers,
bringing their bodies closer together. Mona ran a hand down his side. He was still completely
naked, the same as her.

Once they'd broken apart, she glanced away. Scaramouche tilted his head. “Something wrong?”

Mona nodded. She could forgive herself for not addressing it in the heat of last night, but now that
she could think clearly again, there was something she had to ask him.

“Are you planning on telling me where you've been this past week?”

She didn't mean the words to sound as interrogative as they did. Scaramouche raised an eyebrow,
his smile not faltering. “You seem to forget that I am first and foremost a Harbinger.”

Mona almost snorted. As if she could ever forget such a thing. “So, what you're saying is you were
doing Fatui work?”

“What I'm saying is it's none of your business.” Scaramouche brushed a strand of hair out of her
eyes. “Nothing good ever comes to those who pry.”

Despite the fact his tone hadn't changed, Mona sensed there was a warning in those words. She
decided to drop the subject. Indeed, there was no sense in prying into the affairs of a Harbinger.
Who, in the world, would be stupid enough to do that?

Chapter End Notes

Mona, pointing to herself: Yes, I am that brand of stupid. To make up for it, I can take
apart and explain every aspect of your Star Sign with painstaking detail. Yin and yang
init.

Let's have an F in the chat for Mona having to work after having had her back blown
out by Scara over the course of the entire night.

Twitter @AbyssalWaltz
 Chapter 21
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“Ah, Thoma. You're back.”

Thoma paused in the doorway with his bag of shopping to look at the pair knelt in the centre of the
room. “Morning, Milord. And... Mona.”

Mona smiled at him sheepishly over the top of her tea cup, although it was Ayato, sat on the other
side of the table, who waved an arm widely and announced, “Please take a seat. We've been
waiting for you.”

After placing his shopping down in the other room, Thoma walked over to them. He was about to
sit down next to Ayato when the young lord stood up and said to Mona, “Well, it's been a pleasure
talking to you, Ms Megistus, but there are other things I must attend to.”

The meaning behind his words was clear, and Mona was grateful he was affording the pair of them
privacy. She hadn't expected to meet Ayato at the door, even felt a little intimidated by him at first.
Thankfully, he'd broken the ice by offering her tea, then delegated the duty to one of his servants.
They'd been chatting ever since.

Once Thoma had sat down and Ayato had left the room, a silence settled across the table. Mona
swirled the last dregs of her tea around in her cup. She'd come here to speak to Thoma, but now
that they were alone, she had no idea how to start.

“Let me refill that for you,” said Thoma at last, picking up the teapot. Mona held out her cup and
allowed him to pour the last of the tea into it.

“Would you like me to make some more?” she asked, looking down at Ayato's empty cup in front
of him.

“I'm fine. I had enough water on the walk back.”

Once again, silence filled the space between them, interrupted only by the sound of Thoma
scratching the top of his head, and running his hand down his ponytail. Mona sighed. “There's
something I need—”

“Mona, I—”

They froze in unison, having both chosen the exact same moment to speak. Then Thoma started to
laugh. The sound was so infectious, Mona couldn't help but join in. They must have been giggling
for half a minute before Mona's expression finally fell.

“Look, I'll just come out and say it.” Now that the initial awkwardness had melted away, she found
that the words came to her far more naturally. “I'm sorry for running away that night in the forest. I
shouldn't have left you there.”

A little of the cheer fell away from Thoma's face, though his eyes maintained that softtness that
effortlessly put her at ease. “There's nothing for you to apologise for. I overstepped my boundaries
with you, and for that I'm truly sorry.”
Mona had tried not to think about the kiss they'd almost shared, especially now that Scaramouche
was back. “Don't worry. It was a strange night.”

“You can say that again,” said Thoma with a snort before his tone turned serious once more.
“Yoimiya told me what happened afterwards. What those bastards did. I was going to come and see
you, but she assured me you were being looked after. I just wish I'd stayed with you long enough to
be around when it had happened.”

Mona's hand flew instinctively to her upper arm. Her wound was little more than a scab now, the
material of her sleeve sewn up with the help of Yoimiya's father. “Trust me, there was no way in
the world you were catching up to me. I made sure of that.”

“Did you find out who they were?”

“Yes,” said Mona grimly. “Have a guess.”

“Fatui.”

The word fell from his lips like a weight. Mona took a sip of her tea, enjoying the way the steam
tickled her nose. “In any case, I don't think they'll do it again. Yoimiya and I made sure of that.”
She smiled into her cup as she remembered the chaos the pair of them had sown at the Hanamizaka
Base.

Thoma looked like he was about to ask her what she was talking about, but frowned instead. “So,
he's back, then? Your Harbinger.”

Your Harbinger. Once, those words would've made Mona feel sick to her stomach. Now she found
something pull at her heart as she thought back to the night they'd shared. She nodded. “But I don't
think he was the one who ordered the attack.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I can't. But it's not his style. If there's dirty work to be done, he'll do it himself instead of getting
others to do it for him.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” Thoma muttered.

You can say that again, Mona thought bitterly.

Regardless, there was a question she could sense both she and Thoma were thinking. The Fatui had
been in the forest with them that night, but that didn't mean they'd been watching them constantly.
If Scaramouche knew about their almost-kiss, Mona would have heard about it already. That much
she was sure of.

Still, that didn't mean it had stopped playing on her mind.

She leaned over the table and placed her hands in the middle, one clasped around the other. Almost
instinctively, Thoma did the same. His hands covered hers easily, his skin surprisingly warm
against her hers. Mona wondered whether that had anything to do with his Pyro Vision.

“Thoma, I need you to promise me something,” she said, looking into his eyes. “If anything
happens and you have to run, do it.”

“Why, what's going to happen?”

“Nothing. At least, nothing that I know of.” Mona shook her head apologetically as she realised
how ominous that sounded. “It's a what-if scenario. I just need to know you'll run if things do turn
bad. For any reason.”

Thoma thought for a moment. “I swore an oath of protection to the Kamisato Clan. It's not
something I can just give up. But part of protection is self-preservation, and I understand exactly
where you're coming from. So, yes. As long as my family aren't in danger, I will run should you
give the word.” He squeezed her hands, smiled and added, “I always have my hiding place,
remember?”

“You really don't have to hang around here.”

“I know. But I want to.”

Mona rolled her eyes and returned to counting the Mora in the register. In her peripheral vision, she
watched as Scaramouche sauntered around her shop, wiping the tops of the cabinets with a damp
hand towel wherever he saw dust.

“Would you like to leave your hat behind the counter?” she offered stiffly. The bells hanging from
it hadn't bothered her to start with, but now their constant jingling was grating on her nerves.

“No, I think I'll keep it on,” said Scaramouche, leaning over a counter to rub its corner clean.

At least he's doing something useful this time, Mona thought to herself.

She'd gotten back from the Kamisato Estate in the early afternoon and decided to open her shop for
the final few hours of the day. If there was something she'd been lacking recently, it was a
schedule, especially when it came to her shop. Fortunately, all her customers so far had accepted
her explanation that she'd been off sick the past couple of days.

Less fortunately, her return to regular opening meant that Scaramouche had decided to resume his
self-appointed post as her doorman / assistant / resident pain in the arse. On the one hand, Mona
was glad she could keep an eye on him. On the other, having him around constantly was putting
her in that familiar edgy mood she always had when she felt like her every move was being
watched.

“Welcome to Mona's Oddities, Inazuma's finest junk shop,” Scaramouche said as the door opened
and a woman walked in. “Can I interest you in a broken clock? An astrology book with half its
pages missing? Or perhaps a bag of yellowing toenails from the red-bellied spitting lizard?”

The woman stared at him, dumbfounded. “I'm sorry?”

Sighing, Mona marched forward and elbowed Scaramouche out of the way. “Please excuse my
employee. He's still learning how to talk to people politely.”

Scaramouche smirked and returned to cleaning the cabinets.

“Ah, I see. Well, I'm actually here to drop something off.” The woman motioned to the cardboard
box she was holding in her arms. “I've been cleaning out my daughter's old room and gathered
everything that could be sold on. There's nothing of particular value, but maybe you could find
something useful among it?”

“Of course. I'd be happy to take a look,” Mona said. Her shop had expanded to sell more general
second-hand items than astrology-related paraphernalia recently, though she still liked to keep a
theme. Whatever she didn't take could be discarded.

Once the woman had left and Mona had placed the box behind the counter, she turned to the only
other figure in the store. “Stop harassing my customers, Scaramouche.”

“'Harassing' seems a bit strong. I'm only trying to lighten your load,” he said with a smile that left
Mona in no doubt he knew exactly what he was doing. “Besides, since when was I your
employee?”

“My name's on the deed. I own the shop.”

“I believe your name's also on the Kanjou Commission's ledger next to that rather hefty debt, too.”

Mona narrowed her eyes. They'd had variations of this conversation so many times, there was no
way for her to win. Instead of arguing, she snatched up an empty pencil pot from her counter, told
him to look after the shop and headed down into the basement.

It was as she was nearing the top of the stairs again that Mona heard Scaramouche talking to
someone.

“Oh, it's okay. I was hoping to catch Mona. Is she working?” asked a second familiar voice.

Mona's heart leapt. She vaulted the last couple of steps and pushed open the door to see Yoimiya
standing in front of Scaramouche.

“You're here!” she said with a wave. “I thought maybe you'd gone out—”

Her words were cut off as Mona grabbed her by the forearm and guided her over to the counter.
Scaramouche watched them curiously.

“Something wrong?” Yoimiya asked, a little taken aback.

“Why are you here?” Mona snapped. She hadn't meant the line to be so abrupt, but her mind was
racing. Unlike Thoma, who knew pretty much everything about her relationship with the Fatui,
Yoimiya was only aware of the basics. What would she do if she knew the man standing in the
room with her was a Harbinger?

“I just thought I'd drop in and see how you were. Did you go and see Thoma in the end?”

“Yes, this morning,” Mona said quickly, resisting the urge to reach out and clamp a hand over
Yoimiya's mouth to keep her quiet. But it was too late, as a figure approached from behind her.

“Ah.” She raised her chin, prompting Yoimiya to turn. “I'd like you to meet the investor for this
shop.”

She pursed her lips at Scaramouche. The ball was in his court, now. How much or little he wanted
to reveal was up to him.

“Ooh, an investor! How fancy.” Yoimiya dipped her head in greeting. “My name is Naganohara
Yoimiya. What's yours?”
Scaramouche paused to mirror her greeting, then placed a hand over his heart as if touched by her
gesture. “Nice to meet you. Please call me Kuni.”

“Kuni? That's an interesting name. Is it Inazuman?”

Mona was thinking the same thing. Even if Scaramouche didn't want to reveal himself as a
Harbinger, she imagined he'd make up a more normal-sounding name than that.

“Inazuman born and bred,” said Scaramouche with a smile.

Mona had to stop herself from grimacing. His attitude reminded her of that overly-charming front
he'd put on at Musk Reef, back when he'd tried to fool the Traveller and Fischl into thinking he was
a friend.

After a few more exchanges of small talk, Yoimiya turned back to Mona and tapped her shoulder.
“Well, as long as you're doing okay now. Come and see me sometime soon. I'm just a few streets
away.”

She bounded out of the shop, leaving Mona alone with Scaramouche and her pulse thudding in her
temples once again.

“Yoimiya, huh?” he said slowly, as if contemplating a riddle. “And Thoma.”

The sound of her friends' names on his lips was unnerving enough to have Mona digging her nails
into the wooden counter. “If you so much as touch them—”

“You'll do what?” Scaramouche turned to her, a hint of venom in his expression before it faded to
his usual teasing. “Trust me, nothing interests me less than spending more time than necessary
with your friends.”

“That's the problem. I don't trust you,” said Mona. Letting him get to know her friends was just one
more way for him to control her. Still, both Yoimiya and Thoma were strong people who could
look after themselves. Scaramouche had no reason to go after them.

Until he finds out I told Thoma about our relationship, or that Yoimiya was the one who blew a
hole in the side of the Fatui base, or that I kissed Thoma that night...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of something brushing her jaw. Scaramouche had
walked around to her side of the counter and was gently pulling her chin to face him.

“You don't trust me?” he asked. The hurt in his voice was almost convincing.

“You sound surprised.”

“Tell me, when have I ever gone back on my word? Everything I've promised to you I've done.”

Mona scowled. He had a point, at least when it came to their deal. Then again, it was the unvoiced
promises, the subtle threats that imbued his every action, that worried Mona the most.

“Just keep away from my friends,” she snapped, pushing his hand away and walking out from
behind the counter.

The Harbinger scoffed. “If you say so.”

He left soon after that, citing 'business matters' as the reason, though Mona knew the real reason.
She'd pissed him off. There was some pride to be had in that, she supposed. The rest of the day
passed quickly, and before she knew it, she was locking up the front door after the final customer.
It felt good to finally close after a day (well, a half day) of hard work. She only hoped this was the
start of a return to normality in her life.

She took the box of second-hand items the woman had given her and carried them upstairs to her
room. Usually when customers dropped off their old rubbish, Mona ended up finding at least a
couple of things she could sell on. This one was no exception. The majority of items were clothes,
making Mona wonder why the woman hadn't just taken it to one of the many clothing shops along
the market street, but she did find a set of feather quills and a few ornaments at the bottom that
would sit nicely on her shelves once they'd had a little polish. So, all in all, a decent haul.

Once she'd emptied out the whole box on her bedroom floor, Mona started to pack the clothing
back in. However, her eyes lingered on a scarf she hadn't noticed before. The material was thin and
gauzy, and while the yellow and brown colours were far from what she usually wore, it looked
strikingly good when she wrapped it around her neck. She spun in front of the standing mirror,
smiling and admiring herself from all angles.

“What have you got there?”

Mona almost tripped over at the sudden voice. She turned to see Scaramouche leaning against her
door frame. His pose suggested he'd been there for a while.

“How did you get up here so quietly?” Mona snapped.

Scaramouche flashed her a smile. “I can be stealthy when I want to. Sometimes no-one even
realises I'm there at all.”

Mona wasn't sure why that felt like a warning.

With a leisurely step, Scaramouche walked across the room towards her. She started to unwrap the
scarf from her neck, but he caught her wrist and rubbed the corner of the garment between thumb
and forefinger. “Pretty thing.”

From the tone of his voice, Mona wasn't sure whether he was talking about the scarf or not.

She opened her mouth to speak, only for Scaramouche to lean forward and seal it with his lips. She
let him kiss her for a moment before pulling away, a little taken aback at the sudden affection.
“Scara...”

He lifted up the edge of the scarf and slipped it over her mouth, effectively cutting her off. Then he
took the loose end, wrapped it around her lower face once more and pulled it tight.

“Hm.” The way he cocked his head reminded Mona of an artist dressing up a porcelain doll. “Even
prettier now.”

Without warning, he spun Mona around and pushed her face-first into the wall. One hand gripped
the scarf at the back of her head while the other roamed her waist, his lips peppering kisses up the
side of her neck.

“I always said I'd gag you one day, didn't I?” he whispered into her ear. “Consider this another
promise fulfilled.”

Of course he had to work that detail in. In fact, Mona wondered whether this was a means of
punishment for having doubted him earlier. Not that she was in any position to refuse him. Her
body trembled where he touched it, face burning beneath the scarf.
Scaramouche pushed her closer to the wall, grinding his hips into her arse in a way that she could
keenly feel the hardness growing there. She reached behind to place a hand on his thigh, but he
seized her wrist once again, placed her hand against the wall and locked his fingers with hers. A
whine of frustration left her. The gag wasn't completely effective. She probably could have spoken
if she'd wanted to, even if the words would have come out as a muffled mess. Instead, it was the
feeling of his hand pulling her head back, the humiliation of having the control wrenched away
from her yet again that had her growing wetter than she'd have liked to admit.

“Mm, I have an idea.”

While still holding her in place, Scaramouche leaned over to her standing mirror and pulled it
around to face them. It took a little effort, the wooden feet scraping against the wooden floor, but
soon enough, Mona caught the profile of the pair of them in her peripheral vision. Scaramouche
sighed contentedly.

“There. I wouldn't want you to miss a thing,” he whispered, turning her head so that she could see
herself properly. Her face was a bright red beneath the scarf, her body trapped helplessly between
Scaramouche's and the wall. She wanted to look away to save herself the embarrassment, but she
found she couldn't move, even when Scaramouche slipped a hand between her legs and squeezed at
the flesh of her thighs. The person in the mirror jumped in response.

He pulled back a little, and suddenly Mona felt a sharp pull at the top of her legs, then the sound of
material ripping.

“Never liked these much, anyway,” muttered Scaramouche.

Mona's eyes flew wide when she felt his fingers touching her bare skin. It was hard to see in the
mirror, but he'd managed to rip a hole in the thin material of her tights with his nails. Another pull,
and she felt the tear widen, allowing him to slip his fingertips beneath her underwear and stroke her
folds. She cried out into the scarf, spit collecting between her lips, and ground her hips back onto
Scaramouche's hand, seeking more friction.

“Don't tell me you're actually getting turned on by this,” he teased. He was watching them in the
mirror, too, eyes flicking between her face and the slither of skin now visible at the base of her
arse.

How could she not be turned on? It was deplorable how easily Scaramouche could have his way
with her nowadays. He knew every word, every touch that made her melt in his hands. Even with
the memory of their night together imprinted on her skin, her body ached for him once again,

Would it ever end? Even when their deal was over, would she still be running back to him, as
dispensable and obedient as any of the men he commanded?

Like a little lap dog.

Or a bitch.

With a grunt, Scaramouche pulled his hand back. Mona whined at the loss of his fingers, though
the sound of rustling material and a look in the mirror revealed he was unbuttoning his shorts. He
freed his cock, stiff and strikingly pale against his black clothing, then let go of the scarf to grab
her by the hips and position her against him.

The moment his tip was pushing against her folds, Scaramouche snapped his hips forward,
sheathing as much of himself inside her as he could with one fluid movement. Mona choked on a
cry. Clearly not in the mood to allow her a few seconds to adjust to his size, Scaramouche pulled
his hips back and thrusted forward again, sending another stab of pain through Mona and almost
slamming her into the wall. His hand grabbed the ends of the scarf again and wrenched her head
back over his shoulder as he began to set a hard, brutal rhythm.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her exposed throat.

The words felt less like praise and more a affirmation that she was his. Mona let them wash around
her like warm, numbing waves.

Yes, she thought, hands curling into fists against the wall as her mind slowly succumbed to the
pleasure, I am a good girl.

It was the only thing that mattered in that moment. Maybe it was the only thing that had ever
mattered at all.

What are you dreaming of?

Mona lay on her side, staring at the figure sleeping before her. She'd been watching him for a
while now, as she often did on nights when she struggled to sleep. In the darkness, she could just
make out the occasional jump of his eyelids, the twitch of his lips, as if he were battling something
in his dreams. Just what that thing was, Mona had no idea.

Come to think of it, are you even capable of dreaming? ...Kuni.

Mona wasn't sure why that name lingered in her mind. She'd written it off as one he'd made up on
the spot earlier on, but now that she had time to think, she couldn't help but wonder whether it was
something more. A nickname, perhaps? She couldn't say why, but it almost felt... incomplete.

Slowly, she extended a hand to touch Scaramouche's face, though stopped a second before she
brushed his cheek. There was no point in waking him, so instead she reached for a lock of dark hair
that lay against the pillow and wound it around her fingertips. She held it there for a few moments,
starting at it curiously, then let it uncoil and fall back to the pillow.

A vision suddenly flashed through her mind: a wide-brimmed hat; billowing black robes; and long,
dark hair that extended into the wind like ink threading through water.

Mona was so shocked, she almost jumped. The vision had been as vivid as any instance of her
foresight; and yet there had been something ancient about it, like she'd just caught a glimpse into
the past.

Or, rather, someone's past.

She turned her wide eyes back to the sleeping Scaramouche. But how could that be? He'd already
blocked every one of her attempts to reach into his mind. Why would things be any different now?

Still, driven by curiosity, Mona reached out with her Vision and pried at that subliminal space just
outside of Scaramouche's consciousness. As expected, where most people's contained flickers of
truth, Scaramouche's was like a brick wall. Inaccessible. Impenetrable. Normally, this would be
 where Mona gave up, but instead, she continued to press against it, searching for a fault, a remnant
of the vision she'd just had.

It took her seconds to find, and at once, what had appeared to her in a flash now enveloped her like
a storm gale.

He stood on a hill overlooking a valley, a lone silhouette against a sky dyed red. His clothes were
those of a wanderer: long trousers beneath a flowing kimono tied at the waist. Dark hair cascaded
down his back, and holstered at his hip was a long, thin sword.

Mona had no idea what she was seeing. A dream or a memory? Technically, neither should have
been possible. Still, the scene in front of her felt as real as if she were standing there herself. She
could feel the wind on her face, the heat of the setting sun, but most of all, the venom in the
figure's eyes as he turned to look over his shoulder and stared straight at her.

A shiver trickled down Mona's spine. A single word came to her, as if whispered in her ear by the
wind.

“Kunikuzushi.”

She blinked, and suddenly, she was back on her futon, her pulse racing. Scaramouche lay before
her as still as before. Nothing had changed.

Kunikuzushi. It didn't sound like a name – at least, not like any name she'd ever heard. She
assumed she'd spoken in her head, until Scaramouche exhaled sleepily, rolled onto his back and
muttered, “Been a while... since anyone called me that.”

Chapter End Notes

I was going to end this chapter a scene later for those cliffhanger vibes, but I actually
really like the ending here, so I've decided to include the scene in the next chapter
instead. Unfortunately I've got a super busy week ahead of me and I'll be away for part
of it, so there'll be no chapter next weekend, but keep an eye on Twitter for a longer
teaser than usual to make up for it Things are about to go downhill very quickly, as
some of you have predicted!

Also, thank you so much to everyone who has read, kudosed or commented so far.
Your support means the absolute world!

Catch me on Twitter @AbyssalWaltz

 Chapter 22
Chapter Notes

We have another gorgeous fanart! Thank you so, so much to @Yolyazz for the time
and effort poured into making art for this fic <3

Also, @Oriana0w0 was kind enough to create an absolutely amazing fancomic for this
chapter! Seven pages total - scroll down the thread for the last three. I recommend
reading it after the chapter because of spoilers <3

This might just be my favourite chapter I've written so far. TW for knife violence and
threat up ahead. Now that I think about it, pretty much every chapter from this point is
going to have heavy content TWs attached to them, but I'll add more details as I go
along. I'll also be returning to weekly uploads again! Thank you to everyone for
waiting for me, and hope you enjoy this train wreck of a chapter! :D

“Two fish skewers, please.”

“Of course, Miss.”

Mona watched, Mora in hand, as the vendor placed the sticks, still sizzling from the grill, into a
little cardboard box.

“It’s a hot one today, isn’t it?” she said.

“It certainly is,” said the vendor. “Close air means a storm, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if it
pours down tonight.”

Mona found that hard to believe. The sky above her was perfectly clear, the sun shining hot on the
back of her neck. She’d left Scaramouche sleeping in her room to go for an early walk, a move that
seemed to have whet her appetite for something more than coffee, for once. The smell of fried fish
wafting into the street had been enough to draw her over to the snack stand, and now she felt her
stomach rumble as the vendor folded up the lid of the box.

“Come to think of it, could I have two more?” she asked.

“Sure thing.”

After paying, Mona meandered slowly back to her shop. She’d chosen to wear the pink kimono
with the fish that Thoma had bought her last week for the first time since Scaramouche had
returned. The material swayed around her arms, providing a little relief from the heat. The vendor
had been right about one thing: the air was so close, sweat was already starting to form on her skin.
Not that that was unusual in Inazuma. After weeks of being here, she could finally say that she was
growing used to the warm weather. Sure, she missed the refreshment of a misty drizzle from time to
time, but she’d come to love the feeling of the sun on her skin, the deep, long shadows cast at
sunset. They were just aspects of what made this nation unique, as with all of the Seven.

As Mona came to her door and pulled her key out of her pocket, she thought of Scaramouche asleep
upstairs in her futon. He certainly wasn’t a deep sleeper, by any means, but left undisturbed, he
often slept long into the morning, leaving Mona the task of waking him up when she opened the
shop. At least today with the fish skewers, she’d have something nice for him to open his eyes to.

What am I saying? He wakes up to me every day, she thought smugly to herself.

Once she’d let herself inside, she called up to him. No response. Sighing at the thought of having
to wake him up once again, she walked over to the stairs and made her way up.

“Morning, Scaramouche,” she said as she nudged open the door. “I got you some break—”

Her words fell flat as she saw what was on the other side. Scaramouche sat cross-legged and fully-
dressed in the middle of the floor. Spread around him were the box Mona had hidden in her
wardrobe, the three volumes of The Crooked Blade , and the letter from Il Dottore, which he held
open in his hands.

Mona should have turned and run on the spot. She almost did. But then Scaramouche raised his
head and stared at her, and while the expression on his face remained impassive, the fury in his
eyes stopped her dead.

“What’s that?” Mona asked, though she instantly regretted it. There was no use in playing ignorant.
Already, she felt like the world was spiralling around her, the panic seeping into every inch of her
veins, freezing her to the spot.

Scaramouche’s lips curled into a smile as he lowered the letter. One word repeated itself in Mona’s
head over and over: Run.

“Oh, just a package from Snezhnaya. Some books, too.” He ran a hand over one of the covers.
“How they ended up here, though, I have no idea.”

“Neither do I,” Mona breathed.

“Don’t you?” Scaramouche pushed himself to his feet, walked over and held the letter out for her to
see. Il Dottore’s spidery handwriting stared back at her.

“I don’t know what that is,” she whispered with trembling lips.

“Really?” Despite the look in his eyes, Scaramouche’s voice was deathly calm. “Because I think
you do.”

Mona’s hand tightened around the bag. The paper felt wet against her skin. “I told you no.”

Scaramouche exhaled sharply. Then he scrunched the letter into a ball and dropped it to the floor.

“That’s a shame.”

He whipped his hand across Mona’s cheek so hard it knocked her whole head to the side. She
stumbled back a step, stunned, assuming he’d backhanded her without making a sound.

That was until she saw the spattering of blood clinging to the door frame.

The pain came a moment later, spreading across her cheek like poison. She drew in a breath and let
it out in a moan, placed a hand against her face and pulled it back to find her palm smudged with
red. When she turned her head to Scaramouche, she saw, through bleary eyes, the blade that he
held in his hand, its silver edge shining with blood.

Before she could so much as think of running away, Scaramouche had grabbed a fistful of her hair
and was dragging her back into the room. Mona tried to scream, but all that came out was a choked
cry. She could barely move for the pain in her cheek, barely even think . It felt like the whole side
of her face had been set on fire.

Scaramouche threw her onto the futon, then grabbed her by the collar and forced her to her knees.
The knife pressed against the underside of her jaw.

“So, a thief and a liar, too?” Scaramouche was no longer smiling as he looked down at her. “Call
me an idiot, but I expected better of you, Mona.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

“Careful, now. That is unless you want me to slash open that pretty little neck and make a mess all
over the bedding.”

Mona knew as well as he did that he wouldn’t hesitate. The grip on the back of her head was too
firm, the bite of the knife too sharp, to leave her in any doubt.

But of course, it was always going to end like this, wasn’t it? The moment she’d gotten involved
with a Harbinger, she’d known, deep down, that she’d end up dying by his hands. And yet she’d
let herself fall deeper and deeper, ignoring the warning signs and her own inhibitions, searching,
yearning , for a hint of humanity in his actions and clinging to it.

The man who stood above her now was no human. His eyes blazed with a fury that cut through her
more keenly than any knife, leaving her pliant and trembling before him.

“I should have known it was you,” he said with a softness that felt out of touch with his expression.
“A stranger breaks into my room, steals from me, blows up part of my base… I didn’t believe my
men when they said there was foul play at hand, but now I know that instincts are best trusted,
after all.”

He ran the blade slowly up and down Mona’s throat as he spoke, as if deciding upon the best way
of carving her up. A part of Mona felt relieved she was too scared to move. The moment she was
able to, she knew her hand would fly to her cheek, and she had no intention of finding out how
deeply her wound went, especially if the wetness running down to her jaw was anything to go by.

“So, what are you going to do?” she muttered. “Kill me?”

Scaramouche let out a soft, humourless laugh.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” he said in a tone that suggested he’d done worse to others for less. “Tell
me, Mona. Why shouldn’t I kill you right now? I’m interested to hear.”

Mona flinched. Was he actually asking her to beg for her life? Even with the terror she felt, Mona
knew that was a low she’d never fall to. She stared up at him with pursed lips, the picture of
defiance despite her circumstances.

“Oh? If that’s the case, then I suppose I have no choice but to…” He ended his sentence with a
shrug and lined up the tip of the knife between her eyes.

Mona fought to tear herself free of his grip, reached up and snatched at his knife hand as he moved
it in and out of her reach, toying with her. Finally, he let go of her hair and shoved her back onto the
futon.

Mona was barely afforded a moment to collect herself before Scaramouche fell upon her again. He
straddled her waist, wrapped one hand around her neck and leaned over her, dark hair falling over
his face in a cruel parallel to so many nights they’d spent on this very futon, were it not for the
knife hovering in his other hand.

“So, you do want to live,” he muttered. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Not… gonna beg…” were the only words that Mona could manage. The fall had left her head
spinning.

“But you do it so well,” said Scaramouche. His voice had taken on that teasing edge again, an
undertone of exhilaration cutting through the rage in his eyes. Clearly, he couldn’t hold back how
much he was enjoying himself anymore.

“Oh, please, Scaramouche,” he said in a crude singsong imitation of Mona’s voice that made her
feel sick to her stomach, “please, please fuck me.” He placed the flat of the knife against her
bottom lip. “Like this?”

He pushed the knife forward, and it was all Mona could do to lie there and take it as inch by inch,
the blade entered her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t dare fight back, not with
the cold of the steel sliding over her tongue. The taste of her own blood on the blade made her
want to gag.

“See, I knew you could do it,” Scaramouche said, gazing down at her with mock adoration on his
face. “You’re always so good for me, Mona.”

He pressed the blade down against her tongue, forcing her jaw open, and Mona hated how, despite
the sting in her cheek and the clink of the metal against her teeth and the utter humiliation of it all,
a part of her jumped at the tone of his voice, as if this were just another night they were spending
together.

“First you steal from me, then you try and fool my men… Just what else have you been doing
while I’ve been away?”

Scaramouche’s eyes travelled downwards to her clothing , as if noticing it for the first time. “Like
this kimono . I’ve never seen you wear it before. Was it a gift?”

To Mona’s relief, he removed the knife from her mouth, though a different kind of fear seeped
through her as he ran the blade along the fold covering her chest.

He knows, she thought.

If her refusal to answer his question wasn’t enough to convince him, then surely it was the panic in
her eyes as she thought of Thoma. Scaramouche’s expression became steely. Had he known about
their night in the forest all along? Was this just another test so that he could punish her more when
she failed?

And yet a simple punishment felt like a luxury she couldn’t afford at this point. She’d gladly let
him slap her, tie her up, any of the usual things that constituted as punishment in his eyes, but
something about this felt far more serious than anything she’d experienced before. This time, she
was sure, the marks he left behind would never heal.

Humming softly, Scaramouche slipped the knife beneath the fold and pushed it up, lifting the
material until the tip tore to the other side. From there, he pulled it downwards with surgical
precision, ripping a line from her chest down to her obi .
“Pl-please stop,” she whispered.

“Why?” asked Scaramouche, untying the obi so that he could slice another hole into the material.
“This shade of blue looks terrible on you. I’m doing you a favour. Unless this piece of scrap has
some sentimental value to you?”

Mona reached up to grab his wrist again – a dangerous move, she knew – but he slapped aside her
hands, caught her sleeve and tore it in two. The sound of ripping material filled the room along
with Mona’s sobs.

The slashes became angrier and faster until Scaramouche was practically hacking at the garment
like a woodsman with an axe. Within minutes, the kimono was hanging off her body in pieces.

Mona could barely move, barely breathe, for her tears. If Scaramouche had taken the knife and
stabbed it into her then, she probably would have let him. Instead, he looked down at her with his
lips pulled into a straight line, almost as if he pitied her, though Mona knew such a thing wasn't
possible.

Sure enough, when he leaned over her and pressed his lips to her ear, his voice seeped beneath her
skin like ice water.

“Do you think I'm stupid?”

Mona squeezed her eyes shut.

“Did you think I wouldn't find out about you and the Kamisato housekeeper? After all I've done for
you—”

“Nothing happened,” she finally managed to blurt out.

Scaramouche lifted his head enough to look into her eyes again, his fringe tickling her forehead. “I
don't think you realise just how good you've had it, Mona. I took on your debt out of the kindness
of my heart, bought you food, clothes. And you repay me by whoring yourself out to other men the
moment I turn my back?” He clicked his tongue and ran a finger across her collarbone. “Why in the
world did I expect anything better of you?”

He was manipulating her again in that way only he knew how. Even as he spoke, Mona felt a
familiar shame bloom inside her, the kind she always did when she thought about her almost-kiss
with Thoma.

But this time, something snapped in her. Despite the pain in his face, the fear that gripped her in its
hands, she felt her lips curl into a grimace of a smile.

“You really think you've done me a favour?”

Perhaps it was idiocy to be speaking out with a knife inches from her neck, but now that she'd
started, Mona found she couldn't stop. The words poured from her like water crashing through a
broken dam. “You shoehorned your way into my life, made me serve you, depend on you, and you
have the audacity – no, the delusion – to pretend it was for anything but your own sick gain?” She
was shouting now, but the time for caring had passed. “Nothing happened between me and Thoma,
but I wish it had. At least then, I'd know what it was like to be with someone who actually gave a
damn about anyone but themselves for once.”

The silence that followed her outburst felt too quiet, the air heavy around her. Scaramouche
remained completely still. The silence stretched out into long seconds, then minutes, maybe even
hours, punctuated only by the sound of Mona's trembling breaths and her pulse thudding in her
temples.

Finally, Scaramouche stood up. Then he started to walk towards the door.

“Wait,” Mona whispered, “where are you going?”

But Scaramouche didn't answer, just pulled open the door and walked out into the corridor.

“No, stop!” Mona was already on her feet, pushing through the pain to run after him. He might not
have said there he was going, but she had a pretty good idea.

He could do what he wanted with her. She was ready to throw herself at his feet, let him take out
every frustration he had on her over and over.

She just wouldn't let him hurt Thoma.

He disappeared down the staircase, and Mona stumbled down after him. It seemed that with every
step he took, he advanced by two, despite his slow, almost leisurely pace. Determined to close the
gap, Mona leapt the final few steps and reached for him.

“Scara—”

Her fingers had barely brushed his sleeve when he spun towards her. She caught a glance of a ball
of Electro, bright purple and crackling with heat, before it slammed into the doorframe inches from
her head, sending shards of wood flying. Scaramouche glared at her over his shoulder with
narrowed eyes. Then he turned and continued towards the main door.

It took Mona a few seconds to break out of her stupor, by which time Scaramouche was just
leaving. With one last burst of strength, Mona ran across the shop and burst into the alley. Her
kimono hung off her in shreds, but she no longer cared if anyone saw. She just needed to stop him.
She looked right along the alley towards the street, left to the dead end and back again.

He was gone.

Mona wanted to scream in frustration, but she forced herself in the direction of the street. That was
the only way Scaramouche could have gone. She was about to run into the open, when something
hit the ground behind her. She turned in time to see a figure towering over her, their face shadowed
by a hood. A hand clamped over her mouth, the smell of chemicals filled her nose, and the world
started to spin around her.

The last thing Mona remembered as her legs collapsed beneath her weight was a pair of dark eyes
staring down at her from behind a mask. She was out cold before she hit the floor.
 Chapter 23
Chapter Notes

Keeping quiet about this chapter has been so hard, especially when so many people
made guesses in the comments last time and I was like ASLIFAFN I CANNOT
CONFIRM NOR DENY WHETHER SOMEONE WILL APPEAR. But yes, finally!
Him!!

TWs for torture in this chapter. Thank you for reading! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Mona opened her eyes to darkness.

No, that wasn't completely true. There was light coming from somewhere nearby, but her vision
was too blurred to work out what it was. A lamp? A candle? Her own frazzled consciousness
flashing across her eyes like stars? Either way, it wasn't nearly enough to illuminate her
surroundings, so Mona let her head drop back to her chest and let out a groan.

Suddenly, the world flashed with light.

It took a few moments for Mona's eyes to adjust. Her first guess had been correct. Blazing into life
were a collection of standing lamps, positioned in a circle around her. She could see now that she
was in a cave of some kind, empty apart from a few wooden crates pushed up against the stone
walls and the metal chair upon which she sat. Her wrists had been secured to the arms with thick
manacles. She pulled at them, but already, she knew it was useless. The chains ran through the
arms and had been secured to the underside. The sound of metal jangling bounced off the walls.

Mona took a deep breath to try and stave off the panic setting in and pulled on her Vision, but to
her horror, nothing happened. She looked down to find that she'd been changed into a pair of loose-
fitting shorts and shirt. Normally, she'd be able to feel the weight of her Vision in her pocket, but
there was nothing there. Her stomach lurched. Had she dropped it somewhere? Or, even worse, had
it been taken by someone?

Surely, then, her mind would be unravelling right now. Mona thought back to when Thoma had
taken her Vision in the forest, how quickly her thoughts had turned dark the moment he'd passed a
certain distance. And yet she was completely lucid right now, even if her head did feel as heavy as
a sack of potatoes. She tried again, to no avail. It didn't feel like her Vision was missing so much as
suppressed, as if there were an outside force that prevented her from using her magic.

But how could that be?

Before Mona could ponder what was going on, she heard footsteps behind her. Alarm flashed
through her. Pretend to be unconscious or face them head-on? Either way, she'd have to confront
them sooner or later, so she leaned back against the chair and kept her chin high as a figure entered
the cavern and walked around to face her.

She looked to be a woman from the fit of her long brown coat. Her hood was down to reveal a head
of short black hair, and the top half of her face was covered by a mask, pointed over her nose to
resemble a bird of prey.

“Ah, you're awake. I'll let him know.”

Her tone seemed far too conversational for the situation. What was more, Mona could have sworn
she recognised her voice, though she couldn't for the life of her work out from where.

She disappeared again, leaving Mona taut as a rubber band in her chair. Soon after, she returned
with a second figure in tow.

“Has she said anything?” asked a deep, masculine voice.

“Not yet,” said the woman. “I think she just woke up.”

It felt strange for Mona to hear them talking about her as if she wasn't there. She stared at the
second figure as he removed his long, white coat and handed it to the woman. He was tall – taller,
even, than Thoma – with wide shoulders and a trim waist accentuated by a grey waistcoat. On his
head sat a crown of unruly, pale turquoise hair, and when he turned his head, Mona saw that he,
too, was wearing a mask, only this one covered most of his face and left only one side of his mouth
exposed.

Mona had never seen him before in her life, but his name came to her easily.

“Dottore,” she whispered.

The man paused. Then the corner of his lips turned up. “Il Dottore, if you don't mind. Let's not fall
into the same habit as your impudent friend from the get-go, shall we?”

It took a moment for Mona to realise he was talking about Scaramouche. Come to think of it, she'd
been so preoccupied with trying to make sense of her surroundings that she'd forgotten all about
the events leading up to her capture.

“Where is he?” she snapped, looking around.

“Scaramouche?” Il Dottore shrugged and looked at the woman. “I don't know. Where is he usually
at this time of day?”

“Probably skulking around a dark room somewhere,” she said with a smile.

“Or whatever measly little hovel he's chosen to squat in this time.”

Mona stared at the pair of them with wide eyes. Fatui or not, she was shocked how little respect
they had for Scaramouche. Did all the Harbingers hate each other like this, or was it just the two of
them?

Il Dottore caught her expression and sneered. “Oh, don't look so offended. Scaramouche hasn't
exactly created a name for himself as the most likeable person out there. But you know all about
that, don't you, my dear?” He gestured to her cheek. “I'm assuming you didn't trip and cut yourself
on a stone.”

Mona raised her hand to her cheek instinctively, but the shackles prevented her from lifting her
hand more than a few inches. To her utter surprise, she couldn't feel the wound Scaramouche had
sliced into her anymore, even when she opened her mouth wide to stretch the skin.

“Did you heal me?” she asked, looking at Il Dottore.

But it was the woman who reached into her pocket, pulled out a red gem and waved it before
Mona's eyes. It was indistinguishable from a Mondstadt Pyro Vision except for the design of the
silver casing around the outside. “The power of a Delusion. Not bad, hm?”

She whipped it away before Mona could have a proper look, then strutted across the room, picked
up something from the crates at the back and returned. She held the object, a hand mirror, in front
of Mona. Her heart sank when she saw her reflection. A faint pink line ran from the base of her
cheekbone to her ear. It was the kind of scar that would never completely heal, no matter how
much it faded in the weeks to come.

“And not particularly good, either,” said Mona, injecting a hint of smugness into her voice.
“Nothing like a real Vision, that's for sure.”

She knew that pissing them off would do nothing but make her situation worse, but at this point,
she had no other defences.

Sure enough, the smile Il Dottore gave her was tinged with ice. “Explain.”

“Well, I could show you if you gave me back my Vision. Unless you're scared I'll be able to
overpower you and your so-called Delusions.”

Il Dottore stared at her for a moment, as if he were really considering the possibility. Or maybe he
just hadn't expected Mona to talk back. He was the second Harbinger she'd met, and while he
carried that same imposing edge as Scaramouche, he seemed a little more open to negotiation. Just
how much negotiation that meant, Mona had yet to find out, but it wasn't like she was going
anywhere soon.

Finally, Il Dottore walked forward and dropped into a crouch in front of Mona. He looped a white-
gloved finger around one of the chains and gave it a sharp pull. “These shackles are of my own
design, capable of suppressing a Vision-holder's abilities as long as they're worn. Your Vision is in
a safe place, but even if you were holding it in your hand, you wouldn't be able to use it.” He
looked up at her. “I think it better we keep them on until we've finished our conversation here,
don't you?”

Mona had never heard of such a thing before, but it explained the feeling of suppression she'd felt
around her Vision earlier. Still, the idea that such a thing existed in the world was horrifying. She
stared at Il Dottore with a new kind of wariness.

“What do you want to talk about?” she muttered.

Il Dottore pushed himself to his feet and gestured to the woman, who reached behind her head and
unclipped a buckle. She pulled off her mask slowly, as if determined to draw out the moment for
the sake of drama, then brushed her dark hair off her face.

Mona snorted. “This is joke, isn't it?”

But the woman who stood before her was no illusion. It was the same woman who'd come to her
that day in Mondstadt encouraging her to sell her house, the so-called 'scam merchant' who'd so
expertly goaded her into leaving everything behind and coming to Inazuma.

And all along, she'd been a Fatui.

One by one, like the pieces of some immense puzzle, everything fell into place. Mona let her eyes
drop to the floor. She felt sick.
“You tricked me,” was all she managed to whisper.

“Tricked?” Il Dottore scoffed. “That makes it sound kind of cheap, don't you think? No, Mona, you
have been the centrepiece of a rather elaborate plot for a while now.”

“I don't like the word 'plot',” said the woman. “It sounds too nefarious.”

Il Dottore tapped his chin. “Good point. How about 'scheme'?”

“Still a little—”

“Just tell me what's going on,” Mona roared in a voice so loud it shocked even herself. Her mind
was racing with the events of the last few weeks. Just how much of her fate had they had a hand
in? How long had they been watching her for?

Irritation flashed across Il Dottore's face at having had his conversation interrupted, but he turned
to Mona nonetheless. “You're a clever girl, Mona. Why do you think the Fatui would take an
interest in you?”

Mona didn't even have to think. “My hydromancy.”

“Exactly,” said Il Dottore in the tone of voice a normal person might use to talk to a small child.
“Your hydromancy, astrology, whatever you like to call it. The ability to see into the future and
read the stars. The Tsaritsa has heard of your fame and finds your powers very, very interesting.”

Normally, this would have been where Mona's pride kicked in at the fact she was known all the
way in Snezhnaya, but her horror left no room for it. “If you think I'd ever work for you scumbags
—”

“Hey!” the woman snapped, marching forward. “Don't you dare talk about the Tsaritsa like that.”

Il Dottore raised a hand, silencing her. His eyes didn't leave Mona. “The goal was to isolate you,
study you from afar. Put you in a situation where you'd be forced to rely on your initiative.
Inazuma is a nation in turmoil, cut off from the rest of Teyvat. Throw in a staggering debt that kept
you tied down, and we had a perfect situation for you.”

“And what if I'd run?” snapped Mona, thinking back on all the times she'd considered returning to
mainland Teyvat. “That would've thrown a spanner in your so-called scheme.”

Il Dottore smirked, showing teeth. “You never would have been allowed to run, Mona. That was
why we sent in someone to watch you. Someone to throw you a lifeline, close to you and report
back with their observations.”

Mona's blood ran cold. “Scaramouche.”

“Mm. Although I get the feeling he chose to interpret the instruction 'get close' in the more literal
sense.”

As he and the woman dissolved into giggles, Mona felt that nausea rise in her throat again. She
wasn't sure whether to be more angry at Scaramouche or herself. A part of her still didn't want to
believe it, that everything they'd been through together had been little more than a lie.

But when had it ever been anything else? Scaramouche had never loved her, and she... She had
never had feelings for him, either. She hated him. From the moment they'd first slept together in
the Fatui base, she'd told herself their relationship would remain purely transactional. And it had.
She'd made sure of it.

Why, then, did she feel like her heart was being torn up?

Mona returned from her thoughts to see Il Dottore crouched in front of her again. His gaze seemed
to cut right through her.

“Oh, no,” he said with mock pity. “You didn't actually think he had feelings for you, did you?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Mona breathed.

He placed a hand on her knee in an act that was probably supposed to be comforting, in a
patronising kind of way. Mona had to suppress the urge to kick him.

“He's a bastard, toying with a young woman's heart like that. But the truth is that Scaramouche was
never here for any purpose than to watch you and see if you'd be of any use to us. Now that he's
completed that task, he doesn't have any reason to stay here in Inazuma.”

Mona remembered the hatred with which Scaramouche had looked at her over his shoulder as she'd
followed him out of her shop. Where had he been headed, again? Her head still felt fuzzy from
whatever drug had been used to knock her out, so it was only now, as she retraced the memories in
her mind, that it hit her all over again.

Oh.

That was right. He'd left for the Kamisato Estate.

Now Thoma was probably dead, and Scaramouche was on a boat to somewhere out of the country.

All at once, Mona felt the strength drain from her muscles. She slumped in the chair, a broken
thing, hearing Il Dottore speak to her but no longer caring what he said.

What did matter anymore? She'd caused the death of two people since leaving for Inazuma, one of
them practically a piece of her heart. She'd lost her powers, been tricked, abused, lied to.

What a sad little sham her life had been.

Il Dottore leaned closer to her. “Hey, cheer up. It looks bad now, but I guarantee—”

Mona didn't think twice about it. The moment Il Dottore's face was close enough, she threw herself
forward. Her forehead connected with his mask, producing a crack that echoed through the cavern.

He pulled back at once, hissing and swearing. His hand flew to the middle of his mask, where the
material had split horizontally. When he pulled back, Mona felt a slither of satisfaction to see blood
pouring down. It covered his palm, dripped out from the bottom of his mask and spattered onto his
waistcoat.

The woman pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and held it up to Il Dottore's face, but he
swatted it away furiously. “Just get the contract, Katrina.”

She nodded and dashed out of the cave, but not before shooting a look at Mona.

Il Dottore exhaled through gritted as he turned away from Mona. It seemed he was trying his
hardest not to make his pain obvious. Slowly, he raised his hands, and Mona heard the sound of
something snapping. He dropped the item, the bottom half of his mask, to the floor.
A moment later, the woman, Katrina, returned with a book of papers tucked beneath her arm. She
headed straight over to Il Dottore and lifted her hands to his face once again. This time, he didn't
stop her. There came a flash of red light as she activated her healing powers, and at last, Il Dottore
breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. One by one, he removed his bloody gloves, then snatched the papers
from Katrina and turned.

Now Mona could see why he'd worn the mask in the first place. The top half of his face was still
covered, but the bottom half was dominated by a red scar that ran from his left cheek down to his
chin. The mark made her think of a Pyro or Electro burn.

He held the paper out in front of Mona, and now that she looked at it properly, she saw that it was,
in fact, a contract of some kind. She made a point of turning her head to the side before she could
it. She already had a bad feeling about what it was.

“This is an induction contract for the Fatui,” said Il Dottore. “It guarantees your loyalty towards
our organisation, and you will sign it.”

Mona scoffed. She may be at the end of her tether, but she would not end her life knowing she'd
signed herself away to the enemy.

When she remained silent, Katrina said, “I'd suggest signing it. You don't really have another
choice.”

“If you want me to join the Fatui so badly, then why don't you just ship me over to Snezhnaya?
You seem to have no reservations when it comes to kidnapping people off the street.”

“As much as I'd love to skip this step, the Tsaritsa requires it, and I will respect her wishes.” Il
Dottore shoved the paper closer to her face. “Sign.”

Mona said nothing.

After a few moments, he sighed and withdrew the paper. “That's fine. It was always going to come
down to something like this anyway, wasn't it?” He nodded to Katrina, who was already pulling a
pair of thick gloves out of her coat pockets and slipping them onto her hands. Her eyes had
narrowed into a predatory look that had Mona squirming in her chair.

“Need any help?” he asked her.

“Oh, no,” she said, a smile pulling at her lips. “I think I'll manage this one myself.”

Mona stared at her gloves as she walked towards her. She'd seen something like them before,
though she couldn't remember where. Katrina leaned over her and pushed her legs apart. As the
hard leather brushed her skin, Mona suddenly recalled why she recognised the gloves. They were
the exact same pair Master Diluc used to wear back in Mondstadt. She'd initially thought they were
to help him grip the huge claymore he sometimes carried around with him, but over time, she'd
learnt their purpose was actually to protect his hands when he used his Pyro Vision.

Mona tried to kick out at Katrina in panic, but she'd already taken a firm grip on her thighs. Over
her shoulder, she caught sight of Il Dottore, smiling as he thumbed at the side of his nose.

“Last chance,” he said calmly.

Mona shook her head furiously. She'd resist, but she wouldn't beg, and no matter what they did to
her, she would not cave into their demands. For dignity's sake.

For Thoma's sake.

But of course, as was the case with many promises made in the heat of resolve, Mona sensed her
resolve start to crumble the moment she felt the heat surge beneath Katrina's hands. She stared at a
spot on the wall, determined not to give the pair of them the satisfaction of reacting, but as the
discomfort grew into a white-hot agony and the sound of searing flesh filled the air, Mona found
herself starting to writhe in the chair. She kicked and jerked, determined to break away from
Katrina's vice grip on her legs. When that didn't work, she threw back her head and screamed.

It was like nothing Mona had ever felt before. She'd burnt herself, sure, whether on a hot pan or in
her master's lab, but the pain had always been a momentary shock. This one persisted no matter
how much she struggled. The heat tore through every one of her nerves until it felt like her entire
bottom half was engulfed in flames.

And then, just like that, everything went black.

Mona couldn't say how long it lasted, or how many times she fell under, only to be dragged back to
consciousness. Sometimes, her wounds had already been healed by the time she opened her eyes.
Other times, she was forced to stare at the marks on her legs, the angry scorched flesh and the
stench of burnt skin and hair before it was crudely healed by Katrina's Delusion.

In between each session, Il Dottore appeared before her, the paper form and pen in his hands,
offering her the chance to sign it.

And every time, Mona told him, with trembling lips, where to put it.

She knew it couldn't go on indefinitely. Sooner or later, her resolve would crack and she'd give in.
But until that moment, she forced herself to hold out, if only to keep her own sense of pride intact,
to know that she'd resisted with everything she had before signing her freedom away to the Fatui.

Damn pride. Who knew that it was her most toxic of traits she'd end up clinging to for sanity at a
time like this?

Another surge of fire, this time on the back of her calves, had Mona shrieking through gritted teeth.
Her windpipe felt hoarse, her eyes stinging with tears. From somewhere nearby came a deep,
throaty snarl.

“Damn this to the Abyss and below.” Il Dottore marched around to the back of the chair, grabbed
Mona's hair in his fist and wrenched her head back to look at him. “Do you have any idea just what
I'm capable of? What you're feeling right now is barely scratching the surface. I could make you
sing loudly enough it would make the so-called Archons in Celestia above cover their ears.”

Mona knew he was telling the truth, and she wanted nothing more in that moment than to give in
and put an end to all this pain. Then she clenched her jaw, and in spite of every instinct she had,
muttered, “What's stopping you?”

Il Dottore's look of rage morphed into a grim smile. Clearly, it wasn't the answer he'd been
expecting. He let got of Mona's hair and waved his hand at Katrina. “Continue.”

The darkness was back, the circle of standing lamps reduced to that one, dim light that blinked at
the corner of Mona's vision like a single eye. She was glad for it. Any more light, and she'd be
forced to look at the mess of her legs.

Il Dottore and Katrina had left a while ago. Mona wondered whether they'd thought she'd had
enough in one go, or had simply grown bored of torturing her. They'd be back, though. That she
was sure of. While she was glad for a few hours of relief, a part of her found the waiting game
worse than if they were standing in front of her.

She wouldn't be able to hold out on another round. She'd come close to breaking point as her legs
were being burnt. If they put her through something like that again, she'd end up signing the form
on the spot.

Still, she'd come this far. Surely that was something to be proud of. Would Thoma think she'd done
well, or would he call her an idiot for putting herself through such pain for pride's sake? She
thought back to the night in Chinju Forest, the way he'd hugged her to his chest when he'd returned
with her Vision, the warmth of his arms, his gentle, reassuring voice.

Before she could stop herself, she was sobbing again. She cried and cried until her tears ran dry,
and then she let her head drop forward onto her chest. One thought came to mind.

I need the toilet.

Slowly, Mona lifted her head again and looked around the cavern. She was almost sure she was
alone, but she wouldn't have put it past Il Dottore to be lurking in the shadows, watching her. The
thought sent a shiver down her back.

“Hello?” she tried. When nobody answered her, she repeated the word in a shout. Her voice echoed
off the cavern walls.

After a minute or so, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, along with a light
that grew brighter and brighter. A man appeared beside her. It took a few moments of squinting
against the lamp in his hand for her to realise she didn't recognise him.

“Well?” he snapped. “What do you want?”

The usual Fatui charm, I see, Mona thought to herself.

“Is there a toilet around here?” she asked.

The man grunted, and Mona thought, for a terrifying moment, that he was going to walk away. But
then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.

“Hand,” he barked.

Mona obeyed, offering him a hand so that he could undo the shackles holding her to the chair. The
second she was free, he whipped another pair of cuffs from his pocket and snapped one end around
her wrist.

As if Il Dottore would leave a single base uncovered.

Once both of Mona's hands were shackled once again, the man helped her to her feet. Her legs
quivered beneath her, but to her surprise, she didn't collapse. A look down showed her that her
injuries weren't as grave as she'd expected, though her heart still fell to find a few patches of skin
dappled pink and raised like tree bark. Yet another set of marks that would never heal thanks to the
Fatui.

“This way,” said the man.

Mona followed him out of the cavern and into a long, natural corridor of sorts. She'd never been
bothered by enclosed spaces before, but this place seemed to awaken a claustrophobia in her. She
felt like he was being forced through the digestive system of a giant snake, a comparison that was
only intensified by the low ceiling and musty smell lingering in the air.

“Hurry up!”

Only when she heard the man's bark did Mona realise she'd fallen behind a little. Despite the
healing, the memory of being tortured remained in her muscles, meaning her steps were
significantly sluggish. She had to force herself to catch up without dragging her feet.

After a few minutes of walking, the man led her into a little room off the corridor – although it was
so small, it resembled more of an alcove. In the middle, barely lit by the light of the lamp, was a
wooden bucket. The man's gesture made it obvious that this was it.

Mona grimaced. It wasn't exactly luxury, but in her years of wandering, she'd had to deal with
worse. Besides, by this point, she was bursting. She walked over and grabbed the front of her
shorts, ready to pull them down, until she noticed the man standing in the corridor, staring at her.

“Do you mind?” she asked indignantly.

“Nothing I haven't seen before,” he mumbled. “Besides, I'm not taking risks.”

He's smarter than I expected, Mona thought, turning away and wrestling down her shorts. As it
happened, there was something she'd noticed since she'd started walking. The shackles may be
suppressing her magic, but her head felt normal. Thinking back to her experiment with Thoma, she
recalled that it had taken around thirty paces before her mind had started to drift.

From the chair to where she was now, she'd walked a hundred and twelve.

That left two explanations. Either Il Dottore's shackles extended the distance one could travel from
their Vision with suffering the effects of being apart. Or, more likely, her Vision had been left with
the man guarding her.

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes. He was digging a piece of dirt out from underneath a
fingernail with his thumb, but was still making a point of watching her in his peripheral vision.
That was fine. Mona knew she wouldn't have a chance of taking him head-on in her state,
especially with her hands more or less out of use. Her only option was to be sneaky. Something like
—

“Oh.”

Mona had just pulled up her shorts again when her whole body swayed. The man looked up to see
 her stumble towards the bucket, only catching herself moments before she keeled over onto her
front.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, a little breathlessly. “I'm not used to standing up. I'll be fine.”

She took two steps towards him, then crumpled on the spot. The man caught her in his arms.

“Oi, you can't faint now. At least get back to the—”

He was cut off as Mona swung her shackles up into his face, hitting him square across the jaw. He
roared in pain and tried to grab for her, but Mona used the fact she was already pressed up against
him to her advantage and shoved him backwards as hard as she could. It half-worked. He didn't hit
the wall like she'd hoped, but he did stumble, allowing Mona a few precious moments to scour his
pockets.

It had to be here. It had to be. The moment she had her Vision, Mona would run as fast as her legs
could carry her through the cave, and then she'd be free. It couldn't be that hard to navigate, could
it? She'd hide in the shadows if she needed to, find a weapon of some kind, anything that would get
her out of here and back to the world she knew.

Seeing that it wasn't in the man's right pocket, Mona shoved her elbow into his diaphragm once
again and grabbed at his left. Her heart lurched as her fingers felt something hard and rounded. She
snatched it from his pocket without even looking, squeezed it to her chest and lunged off him.

She'd barely made it a single step when the man grabbed her shirt and wrenched her backwards
into his chest. His other fist swung around into her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. Mona
gasped, kicked at his legs with her heels, but it was no use. He had her clutched in his arms as if
she weighed no more than a sack of flour.

“Well, well. Who knew you'd still have it in you to concoct a little escape plan?”

The voice came from somewhere to their side. The moment she heard it, all of Mona's energy
drained from her, and she slumped against the man like a ragdoll. Her Vision slipped from her
hands and landed on the floor with a clink. Katrina sauntered forwards and picked it up. She looked
it over and tucked it into her pocket.

“Thank you, Alek,” she said to the man, who nodded. Her expression visibly soured as she looked
down at Mona. “As for you, let's get you back to your chair, shall we?”

Chapter End Notes

Honestly, Il Dottore can pull whatever nasty shit he wants out of his hat, but I think if I
was Mona, touching my knee unsolicited would be the breaking point.

Anyone taking part in Scaramona Week? Give me a follow on Twitter

@AbyssalWaltz if you are! I'm so hyped to see move love for this pairing :D
 Chapter 24
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“Allow me to tell you a story.”

The voice came to Mona like a whisper in a dream, both distant and close, far too close, to her ears.
Her head felt like it was floating, though she could feel it hanging off her shoulders, as heavy as a
dead weight against her chest.

“Would you like that, Mona?”

She couldn't say how long she'd been in this state, pinned between reality and unconsciousness but
unable to embrace either one. Everything felt too stiff, too heavy, to move. Even her breaths were a
chore to push through her chest, rattling in her aching throat.

A part of her wished they'd stop altogether.

But then she saw a light again, snatches of a blurred scene swimming before her. Her eyes were
opening. It took a few seconds of piecing together her surroundings for her to realise she was back
in the chair. Il Dottore sat on the floor in front of her, one arm resting on a bent knee, looking
somewhere at the wall to her left. His mask had been taken off, but his face was turned at an angle,
hiding his expression.

He turned his head slightly as she stirred, and Mona caught a glimpse of that angry red scar that
dominated his face and the corner of a pair of upturned lips before he faced the wall again.

“He came to us about fifteen years ago. A group of scouts found him wandering the wilds of
Inazuma. They thought he was lost to start with, offered him help, but he cut them all down on the
spot. It was only when he turned to leave that he spotted the mask one of them held in their hands
and asked them what it was.”

What are you talking about? Mona wanted to ask, but her lips wouldn't move. She knew the person
in the story was Scaramouche – why else would Il Dottore be telling her this? – but the words
themselves made little sense to her.

Still, Il Dottore continued without a hitch: “By his request, the remaining scouts brought him to
Snezhnaya. That was the first day we met. I still remember him standing there in the snow. From
the envoy's messages, I'd been expecting a great warrior, someone who could easily take out five
capable men without so much as a scratch on his body, but he was just a boy whose head barely
reached my shoulder. I burst out laughing on the spot. I still don't think he's ever forgiven me for
that one.”

Il Dottore chuckled before his voice slipped into a more serious tone. “He wanted me to modify
him, unlock the powers that had been sealed away inside him for all his wandering years. I was
happy to, providing he allowed me to run a few experiments on him at the same time.”

“Modi...fy?” Mona managed to force out.

“But of course,” said Il Dottore. “I'm guessing he didn't tell you that part, either. How predictably
cruel of him. Not that I can blame him for that one. We all have our secrets, and his has been his
shame for centuries. Still, there's no harm in telling you, since you'll never be seeing him again.”
“Tell me... what?”

“That the Scaramouche you know is little more than a puppet. There is nothing human about him,
and there never has been.”

Now Mona knew for certain that she was dreaming. There was no way that what Il Dottore was
telling her could be true. A puppet? Like something made of wood? She'd felt Scaramouche's skin,
run her hands through his hair, felt the warmth of his body enough times to know that he was as
human as her.

“Bullshit,” she whispered.

Il Dottore clicked his tongue. “It's convincing, I'll give it that. His body is a near-perfect replica of
one of us, a marvel to behold from a scientific point of view. But a wolf in sheep's clothing is still a
wolf when you peel away its skin, no?

“I ran my experiments, and together we came up with the prototype for the first Electro Delusion.
I'd always struggled with Electro before then. It's such a temperamental element, prone to
backfiring. Believe me, I know about that better than anyone.” He lifted a hand and pointed to the
scar on his face. “But such is the way of science. Progress rarely happens unless sacrifices are
made, and I swore my life away to science long before I joined the Fatui.”

When Mona didn't respond, he repositioned himself on the floor so that he was facing her. “I can
tell you don't believe me. You probably think I'm mad, and that's fine. It doesn't change anything in
the end. But I'll let you in on one more thing. Fifteen years ago wasn't the last time he asked me to
modify him.”

Before Mona could ask what he was talking about, Il Dottore glanced at something behind her
shoulder. Then he pushed himself to his feet, brushed his unruly hair off his face and unclipped
something from his belt. A second mask. Mona hadn't noticed it before because of the angle he'd
been sitting at. He fitted it to his face with a practised motion and tightened the buckle at the back
before walking over to her.

“Katrina will be here soon,” he said, touching his fingertips to her eyelids. “Sleep now, Mona.”

She didn't fight him.

A mighty crash shook the air.

Mona's eyes flew open. At first, she thought the ceiling was caving in – a terrifying concept
considering she was still strapped to the chair – but a glance around told her the structure of her
cavern, at least, was fine. She sat perfectly still, listening with bated breath for any more noises
that might reveal what in the world was going on.

The next crash was closer and was followed by the sound of a man shouting. It was only moments
before their voice was cut off and a woman hissed, “Wrong way, Ayaka. This is a dead end.”

Mona's heart leapt. Ayaka. It had to be a mistake, a hallucination brought on by her hours of
isolation. There was no way Ayaka had come here for her.
And yet the voice that responded was unmistakeable: “No, there are lights over there.”

Lights? Mona wondered whether she was talking about the light in her cavern. With nothing to
lose, she leaned back against the chair and shouted, “Ayaka, is that you?”

A pause. “Mona?”

“I'm over here.”

Running footsteps echoed against the walls, distant at first, but undoubtedly drawing nearer.
Suddenly, Mona remembered something with a start. “Wait, don't rush in. There might be another
guard nearby—”

Right on cue, she heard the footsteps falter and a cry of surprise ring out. She'd suspected that there
would still be at least one Fatui standing guard near her cavern, probably waiting to catch the
intruders by surprise. She listened over the thunder of her pulse as they struggled, cursing her
uselessness at not being able to help, until at last, the silence returned.

“Ayaka?” Mona tried again, her voice a little weaker this time.

Please, Archons, please let her be okay, she begged to whoever was listening.

Her prayers were answered when a pair of figures rushed into the cavern behind her. Mona almost
cried out in relief when she saw Ayaka's face appear before her.

“It's okay. We're here now.”

At once, she swept forward, took Mona's head between her hands and buried her face in her hair.
The simple gesture and the warmth of her hands made Mona want to melt into her.

A second shape appeared behind Ayaka's shoulders. It took Mona a moment to work out it was
Yoimiya. She'd switched from her usual colours to all black and hidden her messy blonde hair
under a hood. Ayaka, too, had opted for black, though her ensemble included a light armour
breastplate and shoulder guards that Mona was sure Ayato had influenced.

“Is it really you?” she mumbled. It felt like a stupid question, but the more Mona stared between
them, the more she was certain they would disappear the next time she blinked.

“Of course it is,” said Yoimiya, walking forward to place a hand on Mona's shoulder. Despite the
cheer in her voice, there was a heaviness to her eyes.

Mona let out a long, shaky breath. Her mind was racing again. There were so many things she
wanted to ask, though one question in particular rose to the surface.

“Thoma,” she blurted out. “Is he alive?”

The pair of them looked at one another, and Mona felt her stomach drop. Then Ayaka said, “I
assume so. He went off with a few of the guards yesterday morning to do some work in the city.
Why, do you think something's happened?”

Mona just shook her head. She had no idea how long it had been since she'd woken up in this cave.
A couple of days or a couple of weeks? Time had a way of becoming uncountable when one was
kept from the sunlight and spent most of their time teetering on the edge of consciousness. There
was every chance Scaramouche had waited until Thoma was away from the Estate until making his
move, in which case, she was more certain than ever that he was gone.
“Mona, are you okay?”

Ayaka's voice brought her back to the present. She didn't realise that she'd been staring at the floor
with wide eyes – a stance she'd assumed during much of her time imprisoned here when her
thoughts had run away from her. She forced herself to look up at Ayaka.

“I'm fine. I just... can't believe you're here.”

She wouldn't tell the pair of them that Thoma was probably lying dead in a ditch somewhere, not
now. Better to concentrate on what little comfort their presence brought before it was inevitably
snatched away from her again.

A distant shout echoed from the stone corridor beyond the cavern. Yoimiya's head snapped up.
“We should probably think about going.”

“I agree,” said Ayaka. Her eyes fell on the chains around Mona's wrists. “I don't suppose you know
where the key is, do you?”

Mona was about to shake her head when she remembered the guard who'd let her out several times
for the toilet. “Did you knock someone down outside my cavern? They should have the key on
them. My Vision, too.”

Yoimiya rushed off and returned a few moments later. Mona sighed in relief to see the silver
casing of her Vision in her hands, though for some reason, Yoimiya kept on staring at it like it was
something foreign. Then she slipped it into Mona's pocket and got to work on the first shackle.

“I don't think I need to tell you that we ran into some resistance on the way here,” said Ayaka
grimly. “We may need to fight again on the way out.”

That was no problem, Mona thought. Despite the ache of her body, she was prepared to fight as
hard as need be if it meant getting out of this place.

“Did you see a man with blue-green hair on the way here? Probably wearing a white coat.”

“I don't think so,” said Ayaka. “I'd remember someone like that.”

The shackles around her wrist opened with a click before Yoimiya moved onto the second one.
Mona lifted her free hand to her cheek. After so long restricted to one position, her muscles felt stiff
as boards.

“What about a woman with short dark hair?” she asked.

Ayaka was about to answer, when another shout sounded from the corridor. Whoever it was had
apparently found one of their defeated comrades. At the same time, the other shackle opened.

“We can talk about that later,” said Ayaka. “Right now, we need to go.”

They took a wrist each and pulled Mona to her feet. Her legs felt as brittle as twigs beneath her, but
she forced herself to remain upright and, with Yoimiya's help, took her first few steps forward.

“You'll be able to handle the front, won't you?” Yoimiya asked Ayaka, pulling Mona more firmly
onto her shoulder. While she was more than capable of walking on her own, she appreciated the
support, if only for the first couple of minutes. The last thing she wanted was to slow them down.

Ayaka nodded. Mona hadn't noticed before, but she had a thin, curved sword holstered at her hip,
which she pulled out and held to the side, tip hovering inches off the ground. “Let's go.”

They made their way into the corridor, Ayaka in front, Yoimiya and Mona a few steps behind.
Mona felt a flash of nausea as they passed a dark figure lying motionless against the wall. That had
to be the guard. Every time he'd brought her this way before, he'd accompanied her with a lamp.
Now, the passage was completely dark except for the dim light of the cavern behind them and a
faint, indistinct glow up ahead.

“Is it far to the entrance?” Mona asked.

“No,” said Ayaka. “We took a lot of wrong turns to get here, but now we know the way, it
shouldn't take long.”

“We'll make it out fine,” Yoimiya reassured her, squeezing her waist.

Mona hoped so. Now that the initial shock of seeing the pair of them here had passed, she felt a
sense of panic bubble within her again. There were so many things that could go wrong. Katrina
was probably still lurking around, not to mention Il Dottore himself. As a Harbinger, Mona had no
idea what kind of powers he held. And it wasn't just herself she had to worry about now. She'd
rather be hauled back to the chair by Il Dottore himself than watch anything happen to her friends.

“Which way?” Ayaka threw over her shoulder as they reached the end of the corridor. A lamp
hanging on the wall ahead illuminated two diverging caverns.

“Left,” said Yoimiya.

“Are you sure?”

“Certain.”

Ayaka made a left, then stepped back to usher the pair of them forwards. Suddenly, a figure leapt
out of the darkness behind her. Mona didn't even think. She drew on her Vision and raised a hand
to throw a bolt of water in the Fatui's direction, but Ayaka was faster. She leapt to the side, raised
her sword and swung it in an arc, catching the Fatui on the cheek. Then she threw out her other arm
and sent a shower of ice crystals speeding towards him. He fell to the ground with a grunt and
didn't move again.

“Are you okay?” Yoimiya asked. Her arm remained around Mona, but her other was reaching for
the bow at her back.

“I'm fine,” Ayaka reassured her, a little breathlessly. “I keep on forgetting these scoundrels like to
hide in the dark.”

“Shows it's the only chance they have of besting us,” Mona mumbled. She made a mental note to
remain on the lookout for any more sneak attacks, though there was something far more pressing
on her mind.

Once again, her Vision hadn't responded to her.

It was just like that night in the forest when she'd tried to summon her Hydro in front of Thoma but
failed. Now that her shackles had been removed, she no longer felt that sense of suppression
surrounding her. She should have been able to use her powers on command. And yet when she
tried to draw on them again, nothing happened.

“Something wrong, Mona?”

She shook her head and slowly pushed off Yoimiya's shoulder. “I think I can walk alone now.”

“All right, but let me hold onto you for a while,” Yoimiya said, taking hold of her wrist.

There was no use in telling the pair of them her worry at the moment, Mona thought. Besides, she
could still just be recovering from having had her powers blocked for so long. It didn't mean they
were gone altogether.

As Yoimiya pulled her into a run, Mona tried again. She squeezed her Vision in her pocket and
imagined summoning forth a pocket of Hydro, bubbles, even slipping down into her torrent, but no
matter how much she tried, nothing worked.

It's just... the exhaustion, she told herself. Her muscles ached all over. How was she supposed to
concentrate on her powers when even the task of dragging her feet forward required every ounce of
strength she possessed?

Yes. That had to be it.

Another Fatui lunged towards them from a corner he'd been hiding in. This time, it was Yoimiya
who barked at Ayaka to jump back, swung Mona behind her and pulled something from her
pocket. She threw it at the spot the Fatui was just about to step into and made a sweeping gesture
with her arm. The object burnt with a white light before exploding into sparks, sending the Fatui
flying backwards and blasting Mona's face with heat.

Fireworks. She should have known that was what the crashing noises she'd heard earlier were. She
remembered Yoimiya telling her once that they were like multi-coloured flowers unravelling in the
night sky, but this one had just felt like a burst of Pyro energy that left her ears ringing.

As if reading her mind, Yoimiya turned to her proudly and said, “These are special fireworks
meant for knocking enemies off their feet. I promised I'd show you a proper display one day, didn't
I?”

Mona nodded weakly.

It took a word from Ayaka to get them moving again.

“I think we're almost there,” she reassured them.

“We are. I remember this cavern.” Yoimiya gave Mona's wrist a squeeze. The gesture was enough
to set a spark of hope burning in her chest; the hope that finally, she would see the light of day
again and be free from this nightmare.

That was until a figure appeared ahead of them.

Unlike the two they'd encountered so far, he didn't try and attack them, just stood there in the
middle of the cavern, watching them. Mona knew from the confidence in his stance who he was,
even before she noticed the outline of his coat, the black and white mask on his face.

“Stop,” Mona gasped.

Something was wrong. The three of them were Vision-holders, and Il Dottore hadn't even moved.
Ayaka raised her sword, ready to fly into him.

“Stop!” Mona shouted again.

Ayaka barely had time to glance over her shoulder before a wall of stone erupted out of the ground
in front of her. She caught herself just in time to avoid slamming into it, swept her arm out and sent
a blast of cold, hard Cryo in Il Dottore's direction. It didn't meet its mark. What left Ayaka's hand
as ice crystals spattered harmlessly against him as water spray, as if they'd been melted in midair.

Did he have a Pyro Delusion? But that was impossible, considering that the waist-high wall in front
of them had obviously been manipulated by Geo. Unless...

Mona's blood ran cold.

The Fatui appeared from the shadows like ants, surrounding them. Yoimiya reached into her
pocket for a firework, only for a woman's voice to call out, “I wouldn't do that if I were you, not
unless you want that whole bag of gunpowder to go up in flames.”

Katrina stepped forth and placed a hand on Il Dottore's shoulder. She smiled at them triumphantly
in turn. Mona grabbed onto Yoimiya's trouser leg and squeezed, the heat of Katrina's gaze burning
through her as violently as the Pyro she wielded.

Ayaka raised her sword, and her voice took on a dignified, commanding tone as she said, “I am
Kamisato Ayaka, Shirasagi Himegimi, heir to the Kamisato Clan and Yashiro Commission, and I
order you to step aside at once.”

Katrina snorted. “That's a lot of titles. Too bad they're useless here.”

Mona sensed Yoimiya tense up, but Il Dottore cut in before she could respond to the insult: “The
truth is, my dear Ayaka, heir to the Yashiro Commission, we're not after you, or your friend there.
The pair of you can walk free and we won't stop you, so long as you leave Mona in our care.”

The breath Mona let out was closer to a whimper. She looked at Yoimiya, who mumbled
something under her breath. For a terrifying moment, Mona thought she was actually debating
leaving her here, when Yoimiya whispered again.

“Six.”

“What?” Mona breathed.

Yomiya's eyes darted to the side, where a Fatui lurked, his bow drawn and trained on them. Barely
moving her lips, she mumbled, “There are six of them.”

Mona had been so preoccupied with Il Dottore, she hadn't had a chance to count the rest of the
figures surrounding them. Now she found her eyes drifting to the shadows either side of her. The
message was loud and clear.

They could take them on. They could still escape.

“If you think we're going to leave Mona with you after what you've put her through,” Ayaka
snapped. The composure in her voice was slipping.

Il Dottore gave a withering sigh. “Fine. See if I care.”

He raised a hand, and Mona felt the ground beneath her rumble. At the same time, Yoimiya dug
into her pocket.

Mona dived to the side, narrowly avoiding several thin pillars of rock that burst from the ground
and closed around the spot she'd just been standing in like fingers. She watched as Yoimiya raised a
handful of fireworks, burning white with Pyro, and for a second, Mona thought they would explode
in her hand. But Katrina had used her powers a moment too late. Yoimiya threw them over the
stone wall, then grabbed Ayaka by the wrist and dragged her to the side. Il Dottore and Katrina
barely had time to jump back before the fireworks exploded around them in a series of deafening
cracks.

“Mona!”

Yoimiya's voice sounded distant over the din of the fireworks, but there was no mistaking the
movement of her arm, beckoning wildly for her to come. Mona nodded and pushed herself off the
ground. Somehow, she'd managed to fall over without realising it. Her movements felt sluggish, as
if she were underwater, pressing against a current.

She'd just managed to scramble to her feet when something grabbed her hair and dragged her back.
Mona looked up to see a Fatui standing over her, teeth gritted. She drew on her Vision, willing a jet
of Hydro to manifest and knock him back, but, oh, that was right. Her magic wasn't responding to
her. Instead, it was a bolt of fire that hit him square in the neck, drawing an agonised scream from
his mouth and loosening his grip on Mona's hair.

Mona didn't hesitate. She wrenched herself free and pushed off the ground towards Yoimiya's
outstretched hand. She grabbed onto her wrist, and then she was being pulled around the wall, past
the fireworks that still fizzled and spat flames onto the ground, out of the cavern at last.

“Yoimiya,” she huffed between burning breaths. Her voice sounded foreign to her own years. “I
can't... use my Vision anymore.”

But whether either of them heard her, she had no idea. A light was growing in front of her. Mona
realised, with a jolt of the heart, that it was daylight. She pushed her legs onwards, squeezed every
last drop of energy from her muscles and forced herself further, just that little bit further, until, at
last, she crossed the threshold of the cave and burst into the light.

Gradually, the world fell into place around Mona. Trees, grass, the wind on her face. A wide blue
sky stretched before her, and beneath it stood a single figure. He reached out a hand, and Mona,
feeling the strength drain from her legs, collapsed onto him. Warm arms enveloped her, holding her
tight against him. Shielding her from the outside world.

Shouts sounded behind her. Fatui. Of course they'd followed them from inside the cave. Mona
tensed as her mind went to Ayaka and Yoimiya, but a glance to her right showed the pair of them
standing nearby, cheeks red from the run but very much alive.

“Lord Harbinger,” said a voice. “We weren't expecting to see you here. Our apologies, but we're
under strict orders to retrieve the girl.”

Mona stiffened. The arms around her tightened.

“And whose orders would those be?” asked Scaramouche.

“Il Dottore, My Lord.”

Scaramouche scoffed, and Mona swore she felt the crackle of Electro in the air. He lifted a hand
while the other slipped around the back of her head and pushed her face into his shoulder. She was
too exhausted to fight him.

“Don't look,” he whispered into her hair.

 Mona squeezed her eyes shut. A snap of lightening followed, along with a blast of heat that had her
cowering into Scaramouche's chest. It lasted a second at most, a raw blast of elemental power
unlike anything she'd ever known.

And then it was over, and a deathly silence fell once more.

Mona slumped in Scaramouche's arms. It was over. As the world started to fade once again, that
was the only thought that circled her mind. The only thought that mattered.

It's over.

With the smallest of smiles on her lips, she allowed herself to drift into nothingness.

Chapter End Notes

The Mouche is back. Quality bonding time for them both in the next chapter. Or not
lol.

Twitter @AbyssalWaltz
 Chapter 25
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“What would you do if I died?”

The question came to Mona in passing and left her lips before she had time to think about it. The
covers beside her rustled as a figure turned to face her.

“What an odd question.” Scaramouche's eyelids were heavy from where he'd been dozing, the light
of the morning sun highlighting the crown of his dark hair. “Are you dying?”

“No.”

“Then what's the issue?”

Mona frowned and lay back against the futon, revelling in the softness of the bedding against her
bare shoulders. “It's a hypothetical question, like 'What kind of animal would you be?' or 'What
would you do if a Mitachurl burst into the room right now?' It's not that serious.”

Scaramouche made a low, contemplative hum. “I think I'd rather like to be a bird. Just for a day, of
course, until the novelty of flying wears off and I start to miss having opposable thumbs. As for the
Mitachurl...” He glanced at the door of Mona's bedroom and smiled. “I'd stand back and watch you
fight it. Far more entertaining.”

“I've fought Mitachurls before. They're not as bad as they look.”

“Problem solved.”

Mona pursed her lips. Whether by intention or not, Scaramouche had a way of twisting her
questions so infuriatingly, it made her want to throttle him. She placed a forearm over her eyes and
sighed, determined to enjoy these last few minutes in bed before she was forced to get up and open
her shop in peace.

The covers shifted once again, and suddenly she felt a weight on top of her. She lifted her arm to
see Scaramouche hovering over her, propped up on his elbows.

“Okay, I'll bite,” he said. “How are you dying in this hypothetical situation?”

Mona reached up and placed her hands on his smooth shoulders. Just because she was annoyed at
him didn't mean she was going to deny herself the pleasure of touching him.

“Illness,” she suggested.

“Unlikely. You'd find a healer or some kind of magic herb in time. You're far too in-tune with those
kinds of things.”

Mona was too surprised by the rare compliment to correct the fact he'd mistaken astrology with
herbology. She pressed a kiss against his neck, then slipped a hand behind his neck to tease the soft
baby hairs that grew there.

“Okay,” she said. “What if it was an accident?”

“Accident? Like an errant Mitachurl attack?”

Mona had to restrain herself from kicking him.

“I mean if I fell into a gorge or got struck by lightning. Just a normal, run-of-the-mill accident.”

Scaramouche grinned. “If you fell into a gorge, I daresay I'd be too busy laughing to think about
what came next.”

Sadly, Mona didn't think that was an exaggeration.

She huffed and turned her face to the side. It was a stupid question, anyway, and now she regretted
asking it even more than before. Of course Scaramouche wouldn't care if she died, and she... she
felt the same way about him. Things were better if she didn't let her mind wander too deeply into
areas like this. Their relationship was purely a means of fulfilling a shared need. Nothing more.

Still, she couldn't help one final comment from slipping: “And if I was killed by someone?”

The air in the room suddenly shifted, turned icy. Mona looked up to see Scaramouche staring
down at her. The smile was still on his face, though it no longer reached his eyes. “That would
never happen.”

“Why not?”

Mona was half-expecting him to come up with some bullshit about protecting her, but instead he
buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathed in the scent of her skin and whispered, “Because
I'll be the one to kill you.”

Every muscle in Mona's body stiffened. “What?”

Scaramouche let the silence drag out for a few more seconds before giggling. He touched his lips
to her neck. “A joke, just a joke.”

But no matter how much she tried, Mona couldn't force herself to relax. She only stared up at the
ceiling as he dragged his mouth up her jaw and kissed the shell of her ear.

If you insist, she thought.

Mona was lying somewhere soft, her body stretched out comfortably. She closed her fingers to find
silky fabric bunched between them, then flattened her hand to smooth it out. She spent a few
minutes like this, taking in the softness of the material beneath her, before finally opening her eyes.

She was on top of a bed, a Mondstadt-style one instead of a futon. The sheets were deep purple,
and surrounding the bed on all four sides was a set of dark curtains. Mona sat up, rubbed her eyes
and looked down. She was still in the clothes she'd been wearing in the cave, the shorts and old
shirt that smelt of dried sweat and earth. Slowly, she ran her eyes down her bare legs. Even all the
power of Katrina's healing hadn't been enough to completely erase the white-pink burn marks that
swirled down the inside and front of her thighs. Her chest tightened as she reached down with her
hands, but she stopped herself before her fingers could meet the skin. She didn't want to touch them
just yet. The longer she abstained, the longer she could pretend that the wounds were merely a
figment of her imagination and her time in the cave little more than a nightmare.

More pressing was the matter of where she was.

A neatly-folded set of clothes had been placed on the pillow beside her. An ivory kimono with pale
blue flowers. Mona changed into it quickly, crawled to the end of the bed and pushed open the
curtains.

Then she let them close. Blinked. Opened them again.

What she'd been expecting on the other side, she had no idea. A bedroom, perhaps, or maybe a
lounge. Certainly somewhere indoors.

So, when she looked out onto a wide, green meadow, Mona thought she was seeing things. The sky
above blazed with a white sun, and red maple trees dotted the landscape. In the distance, mist-
shrouded peaks rose up from the horizon. The whole scene reminded her of something from a
watercolour painting: simple, bold, and picturesque to the point where it didn't seem real.

Well, of course it wasn't real, she told herself. She was obviously dreaming. Still, as she reached
out a hand beyond the curtains and felt the faintest of breezes lift the hairs on her arm, breathed in
the scent of fresh grass, she couldn't help but notice how convincing it all was.

Perhaps, for now, it wouldn't hurt to explore this dream world a little.

Mona slipped off the bed onto the grass and took her first step forward, when her toe nudged
something hard. She looked down to see a pair of slippers on the ground, placed strategically
where she'd notice them, though she decided not to put them on, instead enjoying the feeling of the
cool, dry grass against her bare feet.

After a few steps, Mona turned and looked back at the bed. A part of her expected that it would
have disappeared, as things in dreams often did once they no longer served a purpose, but it
continued to stand there in the middle of the meadow. Mona frowned. She'd never seen anything so
strange in all her life.

Deciding to carry on in the direction she'd started in, Mona turned and continued to walk. The grass
was tall enough that it came up her hips and pulled at the base of her kimono. She ran a hand
through it, felt the tips caress the ends of her fingers like feathers, until, at last, she heard the sound
of water cut through the silence.

At first, she assumed it was a stream trickling through the grass. Then she realised the noise wasn't
continuous, but rather like something splashing around. Curious, she followed it to a large maple
tree. There, in its shadow, was a pool of water several yards in diameter, along with a single figure
bobbing beneath the surface.

“Oh, you're awake,” said Scaramouche, turning to face her. “I'd have thought you'd want a little
more time to sleep.” He slicked his wet hair off his face and flashed her a cheerful smile.

Mona may have fallen readily into his arms outside the cave, but now she simply stared at him. He
was completely naked, his clothes and hat left in a neat pile beside the tree, his shoulders dappled
with sunlight and shadow.

“Thoma,” she said stiffly.

Scaramouche's face fell a little, though his smile remained. “He's alive.”
Mona narrowed her eyes, searched for a hint he was lying in his expression. When she found none,
she let out a sigh and nodded. It was far from the physical relief she'd expected, and there was a
part of her that wouldn't be satisfied until she saw Thoma with her own two eyes, but the
information was good enough for now.

“Ayaka and Yoimiya?”

“Last I saw them, they were returning to the city.”

Mona paused. “What about me?”

“You?”

Scaramouche glided forwards, leaving smooth ripples in his wake. To Mona's surprise, the pool
didn't appear to shelve, meaning he was able to cross his arms on the edge and look up at her while
keeping his body vertical. Then again, the concept of a lone natural pool in the middle of a
meadow like this was odd enough that she shouldn't have been surprised.

“Let me guess,” said Scaramouche. “You never managed to escape the cave after all, and are now
lying in several pieces on Il Dottore's operating table while he prods at your organs with a shiny
scalpel.”

Before Mona could let the horror of that image sink in, he continued: “Or maybe you're back in
your room in Inazuma City. I have decided that you're too much a burden to keep alive, so I've slit
you open, or throttled you, or drugged you, or whichever way you believe I'd get rid of you should
the time arise.”

Mona swallowed. “You tell me. You're the psychopath.”

Scaramouche let out a short laugh and mumbled the word 'psychopath' to himself. “Well, since you
asked so nicely... you're not dead, Mona.”

She looked around her. “So, this is all real, then?”

“Of course.” Scaramouche tilted his head smugly. “This is my domain.”

Mona was more than acquainted with domains, little pockets of space that could be manipulated to
resemble whatever the owner wanted. However, despite all her studies, this was the first time she'd
ever entered one.

“It's huge,” said Mona, unable to keep the awe out of her voice.

“But not as big as you think. I wouldn't recommend you venture too close to those mountains.
They're an illusion.”

Mona glanced once again at the peaks in the distance. Just like the sun on her face and the grass
beneath her feet, they felt completely real. She wondered how far she could walk before hitting
some kind of invisible wall. Or maybe the world would loop back around, and she'd just end up
here at this pool once again.

The sound of splashing water drew her attention back to Scaramouche. He'd pushed off the edge
and was now drifting backwards, the tips of his hair fanning out on the surface. “You can get in,
you know.”

As inviting as the water looked, Mona had no desire to join him. Instead, she knelt down in the
grass by the side, intent on maintaining space between them but fed up of standing.

“You lied to me, Scaramouche,” she said. “Il Dottore told me why you were here in Inazuma.
Everything was set up from the beginning. The move, our meeting on the ship, our—”

She was about to say 'our relationship', but stopped herself. That part she could deal with. It was all
the rest, the layers of deception that were finally coming to light now that she had the space to peel
them back.

“I never told you my intentions. I strategically withheld that information. Therefore I didn't lie,”
said Scaramouche.

The casualness of his tone, as if he really did believe himself innocent, made Mona hiss, “You
deceived me. You acted like you wanted to be close to me all this time, not just for the sake of
reporting back to the Fatui.”

Scaramouche snorted. “You sound like an emotional little girl who's had her heart broken. I see no
harm in pursuing things the way I did. I got something back, you got something back. It's not my
fault you were too stupid to suspect that I, a Harbinger, was performing a task for my organisation
at the same time.”

Mona wanted nothing more than to drag him out of the pool at that moment and lay into him, but of
course, it was a fantasy as far-fetched as the concept that he might actually speak to her with some
respect for once. Either way, he did have a point. She wanted to blame the hurt she was feeling
right now solely on the fact he'd lied to her all this time, though there was a part of her, small as it
may be, that stung at his taunting. She remembered Il Dottore leaning over her in her chair, his
hand on her knee.

You didn't actually think he had feelings for you, did you?

“Maybe you're right,” said Mona, voice heavy with resignation. “I am stupid. But clearly not as
stupid as the person who thought I'd ever be caught dead lending my astrological readings to the
Fatui. Now my powers are gone. Your mission was useless.”

Scaramouche opened his mouth to speak, but Mona wasn't finished yet. “And what about you,
Scaramouche? You claim you were just getting close to me for information, but you threw a
tantrum back in the city the moment you thought I'd so much as looked at another man. So much
for keeping emotions out of it.”

He stared at her for a few moments, and Mona noticed his jaw clench. Then he swam over to her
again, placed his hands on the edge of the pool and hoisted himself up on his arms so that his upper
body was out of the water and his face hovered below Mona's.

“I didn't cut you because of Thoma,” he said. “I cut you because you stole from me, then lied about
it.”

Mona thought back to that time. She'd been utterly occupied with her capture by the Fatui, thrust
from one situation to the other without a second to reflect upon the terror of what had happened in
that room. Now Scaramouche was back to his normal self, his lips just inches before her. As if he
wanted her to lean forward and close the gap herself.

As if he expected her to just forget everything.

Mona placed a hand on his cheek, felt the cool wetness of his skin beneath her fingers.
Scaramouche parted his mouth slightly in invitation. Slowly, Mona leaned forward and stopped
just before their lips met.

“I didn't lie to you about the letter,” she whispered. “I strategically withheld that information.”

Then she placed her hand on his mouth and shoved him back into the water hard. By the time she
heard his head break the water again, she'd already stormed away.

Mona knelt in the grass behind the four-poster bed, hands raised, palms out before her. She'd found
her Vision tucked between the pillows where her clothes had been laid out. Now it sat in her lap,
inert as a stone as she strained to summon her Hydro. She tried not to look at her Vision, tried to
ignore the fact the gem that had once shimmered a dark blue was now the colour of dull metal. It
didn't take much thinking to work out what had happened. She'd exhausted her powers, and the
state of her Vision reflected that. Maybe if she smashed it against the bed frame, it would shatter
into a thousand shards like any other piece of glass.

But she didn't want to think about that, so she simply carried on.

Somewhere close by, the grass rustled. Mona gritted her teeth and kept her head facing forward,
determined to ignore him in favour of the space between her hands. For a while, neither of them
moved. Then, at last, Mona lifted her head and snapped, “What do you want?”

She could see him in the corner of her vision. He closed the gap between them slowly and stood
over her, his shadow falling across her hands.

“Not having much luck?”

Mona curled her fingers into fists. “If you've come to taunt me—”

“Not at all,” he said, shadow shifting as he leaned back against the bed.

Mona sighed and lowered her head. She didn't have the energy to fight him. “Things like this don't
just happen. Visions don't just...” She had no words to describe what had happened to her own
Vision. Run out? Expire?

Except she did know. At least, she had an inkling. If Visions represented ambitions, then it was
safe to say hers had run its course. All her drive, her desire to surpass her peers and become the
greatest astrologist of all time... She'd swept it all away in favour of some petty pursuit here in
Inazuma. The shop, the neglect of her studies, her willingness to fall into Scaramouche's hands. All
of it had distracted her from her original ambition. Her proper ambition.

And now she was left with nothing. Not even a Vision to call her own.

Something touched the back of Mona's head. She twisted to see Scaramouche stroking her hair with
the back of his knuckles. In his other hand he held a large clay carafe, which he offered to her.

Mona's instincts told her to refuse him – she had all the other times he'd tried to give her alcohol so
far – but she ended up snatching it from him and taking a large mouthful. The sake burned the back
of her throat.
Scaramouche dropped into a kneeling position beside her. He'd tied his hair, still wet, into a tail,
and slung a dark robe around his shoulders.

“Why hasn't the sun moved?” Mona muttered, looking up. It was hard to tell the time when she had
no watch, but she could've sworn that a couple of hours had passed since she'd left Scaramouche in
the pool. Still, the sun continued to burn directly overhead, as brightly as it had been when she'd
first approached him.

“Because I haven't changed it,” he said with a shrug.

When Mona frowned at him, he tilted his chin upwards. At once, the environment began to shift.
The sun sank towards the horizon, dragging the sky through shades of blue, then purple, and
finally a deep, blazing red as it settled behind the distant mountains.

The sight was so breathtaking, it distracted Mona from her anger for a few seconds. She'd never
witnessed anything like it before. Just what other things could Scaramouche change? Could he
make things appear and reappear, like the bed behind her? Could he switch the grass they were
sitting on to sand, conjure up storm clouds and rain like some kind of Archon commanding an
element? The idea of him being in complete control of her surroundings should've scared Mona,
but instead she found herself in awe at the possibilities.

“Your domain,” she mumbled, remembering what he'd told her at the pool.

Scaramouche nodded.

“Why do you have a domain?”

“It's a long story, and not one I particularly want to talk about now.”

“Why not?” Mona snapped. “That's why you brought me to this place, isn't it? To talk things over.”
At least, that was what she assumed. She couldn't think of any other reason.

After taking another drink of sake, she said, “That's why you told me this was your domain. You
could've lied and I'd have believed you, but you specifically used those words. It's like you wanted
to bait me.”

She lifted the carafe to her lips once more, only for Scaramouche to snatch it from her and take a
sip himself.

“Leave it,” he muttered darkly.

Normally, that would've been the point where Mona decided to stop pushing him, but she was
remembering something else now. Back in the cave, Il Dottore had spoken to her about something.
It wasn't quite a memory, but felt too real to be a dream, tucked away in a corner of her mind and
resurfacing now like a phantom.

There is nothing human about him, and there never has been.

Mona turned to look at him. It was the first time they'd been so close since their reunion, and while
she still felt the urge to physically recoil, she took the opportunity to examine Scaramouche's
profile. The sight was so familiar to her by now, she'd almost overlooked just how strikingly
beautiful he was, how perfect the composition of his every feature.

As if carved by the Archons themselves.

She remembered remarking that to herself the night they'd dined at the Yamanara Teahouse. And
yet it was only now that Mona realised just how far that perfection ran. His eyebrows were
immaculately shaped without so much as a hair out of place; his nose, too, was a perfect line above
flawless lips. But it was his skin that drew Mona's attention the most. Pale all over, free of
blemishes or scars, like a fresh canvas stretched over an easel.

How did a Harbinger not have a single scar?

Noticing she was staring at him, Scaramouche glanced at her. “Would you like me to find a
Kamera? That way you can continue gawking without involving me.”

Mona was too busy choking down a new creeping sense of horror to respond to his sarcasm.
“Scaramouche, are you...” She couldn't even say the word.

A puppet.

The notion itself was ridiculous, even as far as magic went. Still, she couldn't help but reach out
and touch Scaramouche's cheek. The skin was as soft and warm as her own.

He grabbed her wrist suddenly, making her flinch.

“Am I what?” he asked sweetly.

There was no way for Mona to word the question without it sounding stupid, and it wasn't like it
was going to leave her mind anytime soon, so she looked him straight in the eye and asked, “Are
you human?”

Scaramouche's fingers tightened around her wrist, though only slightly. “Ordinarily, I'd say what a
strange question that is, but I also know Il Dottore, like so many of my waste of space colleagues,
has a habit of running his mouth for dramatic effect.”

Despite the warmth of the sun's rays, Mona felt ice shoot down her spine. “So, it's true, then?
You're a puppet.”

“Puppets have strings. They move via manipulation, not free will. I, on the other hand, am
completely in charge of myself.” He released her wrist at last and smiled at her smugly. “But, yes, I
understand what you mean. I was not conceived naturally, but created. I am a synthetic human.”

Synthetic. The word brought up images of test tubes and lab coats, metal and chemicals and
alchemy, the kind featured in the books her master had always forbidden her to read. She shook her
head. “But I don't understand. You're human. I know you're human. You have a heartbeat, you
breathe... Can you even bleed?”

She'd never seen him bleed, Mona realised, never even seen him injured. She watched him place
the carafe in the grass, reached into his pocket and pulled out something. Her heart jumped when
she saw a blade catch the sunlight. It was the same knife he'd used to threaten her with back in the
city.

Scaramouche pulled up one sleeve and held his forearm out in front of him, palm up. Then he
placed the tip of the knife beneath his elbow and dragged it down towards his wrist. Mona could
only look on with a twisted fascination as the blade split the skin, leaving a deep ravine in its wake
from which blood welled up. When Scaramouche's hand began to tremble, he pulled back the knife
with a grunt and dropped it into the grass.

“Look,” he mumbled, the pain heavy in his voice despite his efforts to maintain a straight face.
The wound was pouring with blood now, to the point where it was starting to make Mona's
stomach turn, though she continued to watch as he dug two quivering fingers into the wound and
pulled it apart. She caught a glimpse of raw, red tissue underneath before turning her head to the
side.

“You've made your point,” she gasped.

“Not yet,” Scaramouche insisted. “Keeping looking.”

Swallowing down her disgust, Mona turned back. Scaramouche was wiping down his arm with his
sleeve, unable to keep the discomfort from leaking into his face anymore. Then he pulled it away,
and the sight below made Mona's eyes widen.

The wound had started to heal, the flesh knitting together at an astounding pace, like candle wax
melting and reforming in the heat of a flame.

“Your Delusion?” she asked.

Scaramouche shook his head, confirming what she'd suspected. Mona had seen Visions heal many
times, but this was too fast, too perfect, in comparison. After a couple of seconds, Scaramouche
gave a low sigh and scrubbed away a patch of blood. The skin underneath was completely
unblemished.

Slowly, Mona reached out and placed two fingers on his arm. Even with healing magic, such a
deep cut should've left a scar, but the skin was as smooth as it had ever been. She pulled her fingers
back, only to feel something wet against her nail. She turned her hand over. A smudge of blood
clung to her middle fingertip, warm and thick and scarlet.

It was the breaking point.

Mona's insides lurched, and then she was doubling over herself, coughing vomit and phlegm into
the grass. She wasn't sure what had set her off, exactly. The sight of the blood mixed with alcohol
on an empty stomach, or the realisation that all of this was true? That Scaramouche wasn't human.
He was a puppet, a synthetic, whatever he wanted to call himself. Mona wasn't sure why that
disgusted her so much. It wasn't like he'd changed from when she'd last seen him. He was still the
same person, even if she knew what he was now.

No, her reaction went far deeper than that. It was the loss of her Vision after weeks of watching her
power dwindle. It was the torture she'd endured at the Fatui's hands, the fear that the next time she
closed her eyes, she'd wake up back in that chair with Katrina burning through her and Il Dottore
watching on. It was the knowledge that she'd been lied to and used over and over, from the moment
she'd come to this nation, her dreams pushed aside in favour of a ridiculous Fatui plot.

And worst of all, she'd let it all happen. She'd been nothing but a bystander whilst others took the
reins of her life. She should've left the country the moment she'd run into trouble, but she'd been too
stupid, too fucking proud, to do so.

Now it was too late.

Mona crawled through the grass before collapsing under the weight of her own arms. She couldn't
take it anymore. She pressed her face into her forearm and screamed until her voice went hoarse,
and then she cried. She cried harder than she ever had before, shoulders jerking, throat aching with
the force of her sobs.

A pair of hands closed around her waist and pulled. At first, Mona resisted, but then she allowed
 herself to be dragged backwards into Scaramouche's lap. He squeezed her against his chest, buried
his face in her shoulder and held her as sobs racked her body. Just like outside the cave, a part of
Mona screamed at her to run away as far as she could, but she no longer had the energy to do
anything but slump against him and wring more tears from her stinging eyes.

She had nothing left. Nothing except Scaramouche.

No doubt that was what he'd wanted all along. And now here she was, broken in his arms.

He'd won.

Chapter End Notes

Due to deadlines beating my ass, I will not be uploading next week, BUT will
absolutely be back the following Friday! Five chapters to go, lads The next one
might even have some smut in it (read: it absolutely will). Thank you for reading, and
see you then!

In the meantime, feel free to drop by my Twitter @AbyssalWaltz if you're on there!

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