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It was supposed to be a normal walk back home after your shift. Nothing out of the usual.
Until you spotted Prince Scaramouche running out of the Tenshukaku—the royal palace. With a loud groan that could be heard until the borders of Fontaine, you sprinted after him, ignoring the rain pouring from the dark sky above. The squelch of footsteps sounded through the air, each stride creating a wet, sucking sound as the mud tried to cling to the soles of the shoes, releasing them begrudgingly with each lifted step.
"Prince Scaramouche!" you called, wheezing for air. "Get back here this instant! The Shogun won't forgive—"
The prince glanced back and stuck his tongue out. In a flash, he summoned a brilliant burst of turquoise anemo magic, levitating high into the air. 'Son of a—oh, why do I even bother with him anymore?' you thought, hunching forward and heaving heavily.
Ever since you were chosen to be his bodyguard, the prince found it amusing to sneak off at ungodly hours of the night, forcing you to work overtime. To put it lightly, you were pissed. Pissed that you spent nearly every waking moment by his side. The way his dark hair and cape would flutter in the wind, the way his Vision would glow when flying high above you, evading your attempts at catching him—it brought you immense annoyance.
He was never this childish, immature, or aggravating with anyone else at the Tenshukaku. Then why did he choose to torment you? You, a mere village girl who somehow rose to the position of bodyguard through sheer luck. Come to think of it, why did Scaramouche even need a bodyguard? He had a Vision, was skilled in its usage, and wielded it with utmost precision.
Suddenly, the sky rumbled, and a fresh shower began. This time, the droplets crashed onto your uniform, soaking it thoroughly. You looked upwards, allowing the droplets to drench you, before muttering a few colorful words under your breath, "He gets to wear his fancy hat when running around. But what do I get? Impractical rags, a flimsy spear, and sleepless nights. Not even a Vision."
After running for a few more minutes, you found a little cave to take refuge in. Leaning against the stone walls, you scowled as the trees danced to the gusts of wind. And to your chagrin, Scaramouche, the Prince of Inazuma, sauntered into the cave and stood beside you, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
"I've had enough of your antics, Prince," you hissed, wringing out some water from your soaked uniform, "I'll retire early if this continues."
A light chuckle, "Retire? And leave me all alone? As if I would let you go so easily."
"Try me."
Scaramouche feigned hurt, placing a hand over his heart. "I’m wounded, truly. Here I thought you enjoyed our little chases."
As the sound of raindrops pitter-pattered outside, you took a deep breath, feeling the cool dampness fill your lungs. How ironic. Here you were, spending time with the most irritating man in Teyvat. A man who bore many titles—Kunikuzushi, Kabukimono, Balladeer—royal names thrown left and right, each one more prestigious than the last. But to you, they meant nothing. He would always be known to you as Scaramouche, the insufferable Crown Prince of Inazuma.
"You'll get over my absence," you scoffed, wringing some more water from your clothes, "Another bodyguard will take my place. A handsome, burly man with bulging muscles. One who wields a Vision, unlike me."
"Hmm, not a bad idea. At least he'd be adept at his job," Scaramouche paused, softening his tone, "unlike a certain bodyguard I know."
At this, you rolled your eyes and gazed outside. By now, the rain slowed to a light drizzle, and Inazuma City sprung to life, slowly but surely. The lights of the Tenshukaku glowed in the distance, and you swore you could hear the guards shouting and searching for the prince. From your vantage point, the residents of Inazuma City could be seen attending the nighttime market, silk kimonos and jewelry gleamed alongside barrels of salted fish and skewers of grilled meat. A faint breeze carried the rich scents of cooking food and night-blooming flowers up the hill and into the cave where the two of you stood.
Scarmouche's mouth watered as he smelt the fragrance of batabatacha, a particularly bitter type of tea. He preferred teas with rich flavors—the harsher the better, after all. "We should—"
"Not a chance."
"—get some batabatacha," he teased, nudging you slightly, "Come on, or are you too scared?"
With another sigh, you shook your head. "Tried it once. Never again." Within the cave, the last rumbles of thunder faded into silence. You peered out into the night, watching raindrops glitter on leaves as the storm passed. "But... I am scared," you murmured the last part, voice barely above a whisper, "scared that we'll be caught."
Rolling his eyes, Scaramouche snapped his fingers, and a gust of Anemo brushed across your damp skin. As it stirred around you, you felt its touch like countless cold fingers tracing your skin. Goosebumps rose wherever the breeze drifted over your arms and neck. Your damp clothing clung heavily, still sodden from the storm. "Hey! Stop it! You know how much I hate it when you do that," you grumbled in response.
"Y/N, I told you multiple times before that we'll never get caught," Scaramouche tsked in annoyance, "and even if we do, I can shut anyone up with my power. Have you forgotten that I am the Crown Prince of Inazuma?"
"But—"
Scaramouche leaned in closer, and you could feel his warm breath tickle your skin. Your heart raced a little quicker, not just from the exhilarating chase, but from the deepening frustration and the tangle of emotions you had for the infuriating prince—emotions you'd rather take with you to the grave.
"You may be my bodyguard," he began, voice lower and smoother than the silk kimonos on display in Inazuma City, "but I hope you know by now that our... escapades, as you call them, are never really about escaping the palace or tormenting you. Well, maybe a little."
"Prince—"
"Scaramouche. Please, just once, call me Scaramouche."
Letting out a loud sigh, you looked the other way, his name bubbling up inside your throat and threatening to spill out. But you couldn't refuse the request of the prince. "Scaramouche... I don't know what to do."
The prince grasped your shoulders, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "Please, say you'll be mine. I understand the risks of daring to love you, but I'm prepared to pay any price. I'll fight tooth and nail for the Shogun's approval and to keep you safe as long as I live."
"Would you risk it all for me?" you murmured. "Me, a mere bodyguard?"
"Everything. I would do everything to keep you by my side, Y/N."
Swallowing hard, you placed a trembling hand on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart. "Only if you promise one thing," you whispered.
"Anything."
"Stop running away in the middle of the night," you said, a playful tone creeping into your voice.
"Oh, I cannot promise you that, my queen," Gently, Scaramouche cupped your face, his fingers lightly grazing the curve of your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. The prince's other hand traveled to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands of your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. Pulling you gently towards him, he lowered his face until your foreheads touched.
"Forgive me, royal custom pertains that we cannot kiss before we are officially wed," he apologized, lowering his voice to a raspy whisper. A hint of red tinted his cheeks, and you bit your inner cheek to stifle a laugh. "Please, let us stay like this for a moment. Just you, I, and nobody else."
"I will," you murmured, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his, "but you better make sure that my first kiss is one worth remembering."
Scaramouche laughed and pressed his forehead against yours—the affection he had for you tangible, "Of course, my queen."