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The astrologer scribbled a few more notes on a scrap of paper. She tossed it into the piles scattered around her and the fancy new astrolabe from Sumeru. Now, standing in the middle of that cozy house in Mondstadt, she tried to silence her growling stomach and got ready to go to bed. A few blocks down, the smell of those delicious crab bakes from Good Hunter wafted through her open window. She glanced at the restaurant. Mona quickly dispersed any thoughts of climbing into the restaurant from one of the unlocked windows—a small side window lined with vines and philameno mushrooms, impossible to see except by someone with keen eyes or an astrologer—and reminded herself that this dedication to astrology and the pursuit of its mastery was a privilege.
Mona closed the wooden shutters and stared at the barren wasteland of a kitchen. A few hunks of moldy bread didn't look too appetizing, but there really wasn't another option for tonight. She sighed, picking off a chunk of bread that didn't look too infested. Trying to ignore the bitter twinge in her mouth, she gathered up the stack of new research papers Albedo had sent her on some strange transmutable bit of meteorite and headed for the bedroom.
Someone pounded at the door.
Mona froze, clutching her research papers tight.
"Mona Megistus?"
Focusing the smallest bit of astrological power towards the door, her eyes narrowed. A familiar young man stood on the outside, gashes covering his arms and legs. This time, he certainly wasn't feeling murderous. In fact, Mona sensed a slight bit of fear from his essence. There was no one around him who wasn't a normal person from Mondstadt. What could he possibly be running from?
Mona opened the door. "Well? Stop bleeding on my doorstep! Shoo!" She didn't really want to be dealing with him of all people right now.
The Fatui Harbinger regarded her coldly. "Read my fortune, Astrologer Mona Megistus. See what is in my stars. I would like to know whether I live or die tonight."
Mona's eyes widened. Astrologer Mona Megistus. At first, she was ready to throw him on the street. But then, she realized that while many other people had used her name and title in mockery, the Harbinger had been completely serious. She saw no mockery within him, nor did she see anything lighthearted at all. Even though he was covered in scars and hastily wrapped bandages that hung off his limbs like they were on a mummy, something about his self-assurance intrigued her and scared her, just the slightest bit. In all the beings she'd encountered, whether human, adeptus, or something else completely, there had always been a hidden danger to the ones like this.
"The traveler is not with me," she said, steeling her voice. "I don't know where she is. If you're looking for her, you're in the wrong place—"
Scaramouche's eyes glimmered maliciously like onyx. "I'm not looking for her." The edge in his voice sharpened.
"What do you want, Scaramouche?" She straightened her shoulders, and another thought crossed her mind. "I've changed since that night."
A thin, cruel smile appeared on his face. "I know you have, Mona. So, what was it? Did you move on? Or did you simply stop caring?"
"Scaramouche—"
He waved his hand in the air. "But the past is in the past. I inquire of the present. Will I live or die tonight, Mona? I believe you could tell me that." The confidence in his tone as he spoke those words pricked at Mona's skin.
"You want me to read your fortune?"
"Only that," Scaramouche murmured. "And I shall meet it. But first, have you eaten?"
Mona gulped. "I—yes. Come in, let's just get it over with." She knew his eyes were wandering around the empty kitchen behind her, confirming her lie.
"What was it you said you liked...the crab bake?"
The thought of a rich golden crab bake filled her mind uncomfortably. "Let's get it over with," she muttered again, slightly softer.
Scaramouche headed for Good Hunter.
"Hey!" Mona grabbed his arm. "You think you could just walk in looking fresh out of the grave without attracting any attention?" Scaramouche winced, and she released his arm.
"I could be dead by the end of tonight," he whispered coldly. "I really do not care. Think of this as payment for your services."
As they sat in the dining area, Sara cast a sidelong glance at Scaramouche, her gaze gliding down his wide-brimmed hat to the wounds and torn fabric. Mona bit her lip as he crossed his arms, pulling out a couple of mora. That was more than she could find in her home, digging up the cushions of the couch or crouching to look under her bed. She thanked the Archons that it was nighttime. She didn't want anyone sober stumbling into them.
"So...what happened?" Mona asked after he'd ordered stiffly. His fist closed around the hilt of his sword, knuckles white. There wasn't anything in sight that could possibly harm him, but his eyes darted around, flickering from every sprawled cat to the drunkards staggering around near the tavern.
She sat still politely. Although she was curious, she could easily have summoned her astrolabe and seen the answer herself. She wanted him to be honest. She wanted him to tell her the truth without needing to pry it from him, which was strange because prying was practically in her job description.
"The Tsaritsa knows what she wants," he whispered harshly. "I am but a tool to her. Not the most clever of her harbingers, nor the most powerful. One mere cog in the machine, easily replaceable with someone else. When trouble comes my way, she will not lift a finger to help me."
Mona's eyes narrowed.
"But if you use your little watery wheel, I suppose you would find out exactly what is happening."
"It's an astrolabe," she hissed. "And...I was merely giving you a chance to explain before I lay out your own life story before you." She was interrupted by the heavenly smell of a rich, buttery bake.
"Crab, ham, and veggie bake?"
"Thank you," Scaramouche said. "All yours." He jutted his chin at it.
Mona resisted the urge to throw the entire platter in his face. It would only be a waste of food so precious. She slowly dipped her spoon beneath the golden surface, cracking through the crisp layer of the bake to reveal the blend of vegetables and ham inside that made her mouth water. She felt her skin crawl under Scaramouche's scrutinizing gaze as she brought a spoonful to her mouth. He seemed to be analyzing her every move, reading her actions and trying to interpret some hidden meaning behind them. Although the bake melted in her mouth with ecstasy, being the first proper dish she'd eaten in a long time, she could barely focus on the delicious taste.
"What?" she asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin.
Scaramouche snorted. "It impresses me how you haven't fainted from hunger yet."
She rolled her eyes. "Such trivial matters shouldn't get in the way of higher pursuits, like astrology." Despite herself, she dug in for a second bite, then another, followed by another, until she'd cleared the entire pot and was scraping at the bits of golden mixture stuck at the bottom of the bowl. For once, the hunger cramps she'd tried to ignore for so long had disappeared. She sighed in satisfaction and looked up. Scaramouche stood.
"Well?"
She nodded. "Follow me." They went back to her home, and she led him into the paper-strewn living room and towards a few wooden chairs around a table. She rushed to clear off a couple of brass trinkets that were scattered haphazardly on the surface, then pulled out a chair. Scaramouche's gaze swept over the room and he grimaced in disdain.
"Do astrologers have no standards for order in their homes?"
"You're the one bleeding on my floor. Go fix yourself up. I'll be right back," Mona grumbled, handing him a roll of gauze. She stormed into one of the inner rooms as if trying to find something, but in reality, she put her back against the wall and took a deep breath.
He had reappeared in her life, and judging by what he'd said, this might be the last time she'd ever see him again. She shut the door quietly and bit her lip, trying to calm the storm of messy emotions that wrapped around her heart. The overwhelming feelings were becoming harder to suppress, and she chastised herself mentally for feeling anything at all.
So, what was it? Did you move on? Or did you simply stop caring?
Shee shut his voice out of her head the best she could, then summoned her watery astrolabe. This time, as she rotated the blue sparkling dials once more, a looming feeling of apprehension settled on her shoulders. She felt sick, slightly regretting finishing that huge dish right before performing the task.
What's wrong with you? You've done this so many times before, and you've always been fine.
Finally, a watery blue vision converged before her. A female figure with shrouded in shadow except for glowing purple eyes appeared. With a sweep of her arm, armored men rushed towards the gates of a walled city. Thunderclouds swirled violently above the buildings, chaining lightning across the sky. People staggered through the streets, barely jumping out of the paths of collapsing red walls and golden pillars. Cherry blossoms that lined the city shook in the wind, the pink flower buds flying through the sky. Amidst the chaos, a young man with a wide-brimmed red hat pushed through the crowd and leaped for the closing gates, clutching his side.
Scaramouche turned around, his eyes widening as a few more guards began to chase him. An arrow skimmed his arm. A blade slid across his leg and he stumbled. Finally, he charged through the small crack in the gates and tumbled to the ground outside the city. He staggered up and stared at his charred, empty hands in disappointment, shaking his head.
Mona's heart plummetted.
Why are you surprised? He's a Fatui Harbinger after all.
Suddenly, shouts echoed from the gates of Mondstadt. The vision dissipated into mist, and Mona peered out the open window.
Scaramouche knocked on her door. "We should be quick."
She took another deep breath and opened the door.
"The ones sent by the Bakufu are here," Scaramouche whispered. "It's only a matter of time before they find me. As I'm sure you have already found out." Nothing about his tone was accusatory. In fact, it was surprisingly gentle. Warmth crept to her cheeks.
Mona headed back to the living room, where she summoned the astrolabe again. Her heart pounded from the last vision. As she looked at Scaramouche, her hands trembled slightly as they turned the dials. For once, she didn't want the stars to align. She didn't want to see.
The stars aligned, and a watery blue vision converged.
The wheel of the constellations of the Fatui Harbingers appeared. The circle with Scaramouche's constellation, the clawed hand, began to vanish like water evaporating into mist.
An empty seat among the Fatui Harbingers,the vision whispered.
The constellations disappeared, and the city of Inazuma reappeared. This time, the skies were clear and brilliant, streaked with a few thin clouds. The rooftops gleamed, the golden linings sparkling in the beautiful weather. A few people strolled in the streets, stepping cautiously as if each step could be their last. The cherry trees stood undisturbed, beautiful pink blossoms budding on their branches. At the center of the city, in the dwelling of the Inazuma Bakufu, the voices lowered into hushed whispers as a woman walked across the floor, a delicate smile on her face.
An Archon's wrath satisfied, the vision continued.
The scenery faded to black. Mona swallowed.
A red, wide-brimmed hat lying on the ground. A golden sword beside it. The ground stained red underneath the cruel winter winds. A purple vision stripped away and collected. Lifeless eyes glazed over with icy sheen, bloody hands clutching at nothing.
Reddened snow, to mute the cry of the delusion next to the Anemo Archon's nemesis.
The snow on the mountain sparkled with shades of gold and pink as the sun rose in the east, showering the land with its light. There was nothing alive to be seen on that side of the mountain, nothing that resembled traces of someone in the past except the same red hat.
By the next sunrise, all that has been seen will have been done.
Mona took a shaky breath. The images plagued her mind vividly like a lucid nightmare. For once, she stared at her hands in horror, silently cowering at the sights her astrological gift had shown her. She cursed herself for the racing heart and the heaves of her chest. She hated how reading the tragedy of this harbinger undid her like this, like never before. The harbinger who had almost killed her friend and had now incurred the wrath of the Raiden after a failed hunt for her gnosis. It was the same harbinger who she'd unknowingly spent a night with once in Liyue, wandering the lively night streets before finding themselves at the foot of Mount Tianheng, looking down at the vibrant city lights. The next morning, she had woken up in the room of the inn with a cold bed and a neatly written letter.
Now, she was practically delivering his eulogy.
Scaramouche laughed mirthlessly, jarring her from her thoughts. "Well?"
Mona blinked. "I—"
Scaramouche smiled slightly as he looked at her, his deep blue eyes softening. "This night will be my last, won't it?" He had freshly bandaged his wounds. The clean white gauze wrapped around his arm, legs, and side really did make him look like he'd risen from the grave. Mona's stomach churned, knowing that he'd really be there by daybreak.
"Why did you choose to come to Mondstadt?" Mona asked, her voice brittle. "Why not...head back to Snezhnaya? Natlan, even? Fontaine?"
"They least expected me to come to Mondstadt," Scaramouche said. "From what I saw, patrols were stationed on every path to Snezhnaya. Natlan as well. Liyue? Out of question. The amount of Bakufu spies crawling in that city is ridiculous." He sighed.
"But anyway, I suppose," he continued, "in the end, the city of freedom is truly remarkable in this respect. Never...immediately caught up in the pesky politics and affairs of...sole rulers."
For some reason, Mona found herself expecting a bit more from his answer. Hoping for a bit more.
"And maybe...I came to say goodbye." He knit his brows.
Around them, the pounding of doors startled Mona. She glanced at Scaramouche, who was looking at her. He nodded confidently, his air of self-assurance returning after that brief moment without it.
"Thank you for your services," he whispered, his voice ragged. He headed for the door. Mona's eyes stung. After he walked out that door, she would never see him again. Through all the years, although he'd been in and out of her life like the fluctuating glimmering of a faraway star, it was never truly goodbye. It had never been, definitely, goodbye.
But today it was.
"I never stopped caring," she muttered, despite her best efforts to keep her mouth shut. "I never really moved on."
What use is it to say this now? You're too late, anyway.
Scaramouche lowered his head. He didn't turn around, but he slowed to a halt near the door. Mona walked towards him and stood in front of him, between him and the door. She planted her feet as firmly as she could, challenging herself to stay still without running away. Her eyes glistened and she blinked, steadying her breaths.
"Why are we so ill-fated?" Scaramouche murmured, his hand trailing down her arm. "Why are we so frowned upon by the stars?"
A tear traced Mona's cheek, and she grasped his face, brushing away loose locks of hair. She wanted to see him wholly again, one last time. She wanted to see the entirety of his deep blue eyes and his innocent-looking features that concealed his true identity so well.
He held her hand there. They stood like that for a bit, letting the pale silvery moonlight wash through the window and spill over the papers, brass instruments, and themselves. Scaramouche reached around his neck and unclasped the bronze electro vision that had hung around his chest for so long. He held it to Mona, his eyes shining.
"The night I met you..." he sighed. "Was that...a year ago? Two? It was...long after I had joined the Harbingers. If only I could have met you before."
Mona took it, her hands trembling. "Scaramouche, you—"
You almost killed my friend.
You're on a hunt for gnoses, because your master is.
You work for the Tsaritsa.
You're one of her Harbingers.
You cruel, cruel bastard. You left me that night.
Scaramouche swallowed. "Say it again. One last time. I like hearing you say my name." His voice wavered dangerously.
"Scaramouche."
"I wish I could have heard you say it so many more times." He opened the door. Mona clutched the vision to her chest. He raised his hand in farewell.
"Thank you for tonight," Scaramouche said again. "I wish things had been different."
Don't go! Mona wanted to scream. Stay! Please, I'll keep you safe. Away from them all. Away from everything that wants to hurt you. Stay with me, Scaramouche. It's too cold at night.
But she knew that ill fate was fate and that there was no way she could twist the dials, align the symbols, and see the vision to goad a smile from the stars. Cruel as it seemed, she knew that no tearing of her heart in two could reshape a thing set in stone. She was an astrologer—capable of seeing, not changing. Not even the Archons could do that.
A thousand unspoken shouts converged at the tip of her tongue, and with a wrench of her insides, she let them dissipate into mist like the visions.
"I do, too, Scaramouche."
FIN
AN: THANKS FOR READING!!
As usual, I really appreciate each and every one of you <33
I made up so much about Inazuma LOL especially about the architecture, scenery, and appearance of the Shogun. I also just...slapped a golden sword on Scaramouche like I did in the last chapter that featured him and called it a day 😂
And another small disclaimer: everything I put here is essentially the equivalent of a first draft with basic grammatical and formatting line edits, so I can only hope the quality is up to par. I write these mainly for fun and to pour out all my GENSHIN HEADCANON NEEDS—also, I decided to reformat it by separating the one-shots from simply having them as chapters of a greater work so it's more searchable and readable. Sorry for any inconvenience!
I hope you guys liked it! Comments are really appreciated :33
Go pull that five-star and nine-star that spiral abyss floor!
-sol