Chapter Text
They wait at the docks of Port Ormos.
The overhead clouds block the sun’s warm glow, casting shadows over the hustle and bustle of moving ships and cargo. For all the noise, their place on the dock is very quiet.
He stands with Nahida, surrounded by members of the Matra and the Forest Rangers, who had insisted they accompany their Archon in releasing him to the custody of the Raiden Shogun.
He can feel the glares of the crimson-eyed General Mahamatra and the fennec-eared Forest Ranger standing next to him boring into the back of his head. He thinks that might be the one he struck with lightning at the Palace of Alcazarzaray, defending Haypasia in exchange for her loyalty. He can’t find it in himself to regret his actions.
They’ve watched him the entire journey here, always tensing if he did anything other than walk in a straight line.
He wants to laugh. They’re worried about Nahida, he knows, and he can appreciate the sentiment. But he will not hurt her. He would kill anyone who tries.
Nahida had asked them for peace, informing them the Balladeer was not dangerous. They had bowed their heads in acquiesce, but had not relaxed in the slightest.
Ha. He wouldn’t believe her either.
The General Mahamatra’s white-knuckled grip on his polearm never once loosened.
He doesn’t care what they think of him, but he bristles at the tension coiling their forms. He knows it’s hypocritical, because the only reason they think he’s a threat at all is because he actually did try to kill their Archon.
It doesn’t change his irritation at being perceived as a threat to Nahida now. They have no idea who he is, how he’s changed.
Despite her placating words, he knows they will not hesitate to use force on him.
Nahida had stumbled over a loose root on the journey here, and he had instinctively reached forwards to steady her before she could fall. Before he could even make contact, he had been violently hit in the chest with the butt of the General’s weapon, sending him to the ground with the breath knocked from his lungs. He had glared up at the man through reflexive tears as he choked, sharp curls of elemental energy beginning to spin in the air, Vision glowing aqua-bright where it hung on his chest.
The General had braced himself for a fight, lighting sparking up his arms, and the sight only served to anger him more—it reminded him of where they were escorting him in the first place.
Nahida had pushed from behind the Forest Ranger to stand between them, ordering them both to calm down. The General had argued for a moment, telling her he was not going to let her be harmed by the ‘deplorable offender,’ that he was a threat to her safety.
He himself had lost his will to fight at this, staring out into the trees as Nahida gently but firmly calmed the Matra and told them they were to walk ten feet back if they couldn’t control themselves. Despite the initial protests, they did as she asked, and it had been relatively peaceful, if not tense, the rest of the journey.
He can see his mother’s fleet in the distance approaching the port. The royal purple sails and dark oak wood fashioned with her golden sigil do nothing for the dread rolling in his stomach.
“Are you alright?”
Nahida peers up at him through the gentle rain, Dendro energy keeping the droplets from soaking into her clothes. He gazes down at her, large-brimmed hat chiming from the movement where the fabric and metal tap together.
Nahida had seen his reluctance in Sumeru City to don the purple clothing representing his birth-nation, and so had taken the Inazuman-styled clothing and left, returning moments later with a bundle of white, blue, and black cloth.
She had made them for him as a gift, she said, after seeing the style of clothing he preferred to wear. She had intended to give them to him as a parting gift on the dock.
The colors contrast nicely with his hair, which had paled a bit after he received his Vision. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t really paid much attention to his appearance, but when she pointed it out he saw she was correct.
His hair was now a different hue of purple, verging on dark blue and replacing the stunning violet it had been before. It was no longer a perfect copy of the Raiden Shogun’s, and this had initially pleased him immensely. The pleasure had warmed his stomach for the entire day and most of the night, before abruptly morphing into disappointment and unease. It was just one less tie he now had to her. He knows that's what he's been wanting, but seeing it happen in real time had been disorienting.
Despite his tumulus feelings, however, he actually isn't very eager to try and change it back to it's original color. He takes some comfort in his acceptance of his new appearance, grips it as tight as he can as to not let the feeling fade away.
That had not been the only change to his body gaining the Vision instigated. During his healing process, they had discovered he now bore faint markings on his neck, chest, and arms.
The academics and healers had been intrigued when Nahida mentioned the markings hadn't been there before, and even more interested when they discovered the marks glowed teal during use of his elemental energy.
The brand on his nape glowed blue as well, rather than the neon violet of its usual color. The consensus had been that his vessel—created to house the power of Electro—was unused to other elemental energy and thus allowed it to bleed through his skin.
They believed the markings to be a physical replication of the channels in his body created to hold Electro energy running through his system during occupation by the Archon or the Gnosis. Everyone had seemed absolutely fascinated with this aspect of his vessel, at the innovative craftsmanship of the Raiden Shogun. It was like being with Dottore all over again—sans the debilitating pain—and he had roughly pulled his tunic back over his head in the middle of this examination and refused to let them observe any more.
He wonders what his mother will think of the changes to his vessel, or if she will even notice at all. Probably not, if he were to guess.
He gives a slight nod in response to Nahida’s question, unwilling to show weakness in the face of both his mother’s presence and Nahida’s ‘protectors’ situated around them.
As the fleet grows nearer, he can make out his mother's figure, as familiar to him as his own, standing at the forefront of the ship.
His lips curl in a snarl as he spots Yae Miko standing beside her. Of course they would both be coming; Yae no doubt wants to observe how he has weakened due to the failed experiment and loss of the Gnosis. And probably to gloat a little—she had always wanted him gone.
Oh, and he’s not looking forward to witnessing that thing she has going on with his mother once again.
Their relationship better not be any fucking weirder than it was when he left—he swears to the Seven he will jump off the boat and turn himself over to the Tsaritsa himself. Whatever she does to him would be preferable to witnessing Yae hang all over his mother. Talk about punishment.
Thinking about the Gnosis once again, he startles when he realizes his mother may be angry at Nahida, for she is the one who allowed both the Dendro and Electro Gnosis’ to fall into the Fatui’s hands. Alarm shoots through his body, making his hands shake, and he abruptly turns to her.
He faintly registers the shift of the Mahamatra and Forest Watcher as his sudden movement startles them into defense.
“Her Gnosis. It–” His voice is tight, betraying his conflict. He’s not even sure what he’s trying to say.
“You–” He cuts off again.
Nahida must sense his unasked question, or maybe his sudden worry, because she reaches out and takes his hand.
“The Raiden Shogun and I have already spoken about the Gnosis and my part in its loss. We have agreed the loss of them both is not worth any further conflict between our nations.”
The words calm him, somewhat. He doesn’t know what he’d do if his mother held resentment for Nahida over the lost Gnosis. Technically, he is the responsible party. He nods once at her, and can’t help the squeeze of his hand.
The General Mahamatra immediately steps forward and commands, "Release her." His voice is very cold.
"Cyno," Nahida warns, "It's alright."
He glares vitriol at ‘Cyno' when he takes another threatening step forward, shaking off the Forest Ranger's appeasing hand on his bicep. The General looks pissed.
He's not trying to be an instigator, but he physically cannot stop the small smirk forming on his face. This expression is bound to make the silver-haired man even angrier, but it has been so long since he has had the chance to blow off any steam and the General is honestly just asking for it at this point—
Any conflict about to take place is interrupted by the low, ringing bell of his mother’s ship announcing her arrival to port. It's almost comical, really, how quickly his anger is doused and replaced with trepidation. Bile rises in his throat despite his empty stomach.
“Balladeer.”
Nahida captures his attention once again, lightly tugging on his hand. She presses a shape to his palm.
“If you need to contact me, about anything, this will allow you to do so.”
It’s an Akasha terminal, and he’s momentarily confused, because the Doctor had mentioned they were both inoperable outside Sumeru City and charged with the power of the Dendro Gnosis—neither of which would allow it to work presently, much less in Inazuma.
Besides, didn’t she destroy them?
Nahida’s eyes sparkle with peculiar light that appears when she has solved a particularly complex problem. He recognizes this look from Dottore, but on her face it is much less unsettling. He tamps down the reflexive annoyance thinking of his ex-colleague incites.
“Perhaps the Gnosis was needed to power the Akasha, but the Gnosis is not the only source of Dendro energy this nation has,” She taps her ear, and an Akasha glows to life, vines curling around her head. It looks different than the ones he had seen before.
“I have fashioned these terminals by channeling my own elemental power through the dead system, disabling the information function and creating a separate channel for two way communication. Since you yourself hold elemental energy and remnants of my own elemental power, these two terminals will be able to connect over long distances. Even all the way in Inazuma.”
He’s momentarily blinded by the implication.
He knew that his body, the vessel for an Archon, is extremely proficient in holding and storing the potent elemental energy archons produce. The theory that his body would be unable to hold another archon’s energy had not been tested by Dottore or himself, as he had personally never even considered the possibility or cared enough to investigate.
However, as Nahida assisted in healing him over these last weeks, they had collectively discovered his body had been absorbing bits of her power. It was not enough to do anything with, and he was unable to utilize the power of Dendro, but in this case…
“We can speak together through these terminals. It may not be completely stable, because this is a relatively new concept, but I have been working with the Sages after I realized I could make a way to speak with you, and we have concluded that the old terminals’ system can be reconfigured—”
He tunes out the rest of her words, used to random tangents of information Nahida is prone to getting distracted by, always forgetting what she had originally been talking about. He doesn’t particularly care about (or understand) half of what she says but he realizes she did this for him and his chest tightens.
He curls his fingers around the metal, before slipping it into the fold of an inner pocket just inside his clothing. Right over his heart, where his Vision rests.
Where the carefully folded image of a boy drawn by his new family is kept safe.
“Thank you.”
Nahida pauses at his words, before a brilliant grin blooms on her face.
“You’re welcome, Balladeer.”
He hesitates for only a brief second, deciding to voice something he hadn’t wanted to address the entire time he’s been here.
His name.
"Scaramouche."
Confessing this is embarrassing for some inexplicable reason. She deserves—no. He wants her to address him by his chosen name, the name he has decided he will take and reclaim from any stigma attached to it. It's the name he finds the least offensive of his many titles.
He wants her to know before he leaves, because he doesn't know how else he can thank her for everything she's done for him.
Nahida squeezes his hand once more, and he braves a glance at her expression.
It's the most beautiful smile he's ever seen.
"You're welcome, Scaramouche."
—
Rather than just their little area, the entire port seems to quiet as the Raiden Shogun steps off of her ship.
The hushed atmosphere intensifies the low hum of electricity faintly buzzing in the air. He thinks it must be an unsettling sensation for anyone who has never been to Inazuma.
While the Electro Archon had opened up Inazuma’s borders and apologized to her people for her past actions and the Vision Hunt Decree, the memories and rumors of her absolute, authoritarian control over the nation still reside very clearly in everyone’s minds.
His mother's calm expression and relaxed body language do nothing to dampen her frightening image and intimidating aura. She may not be a very old archon compared to some of the others, but her presence demands respect and she practically drips with power.
This contrasts sharply with Nahida, who is no less powerful, but radiates a rather inviting aura that attracts her people and encourages them to approach her. He wonders how Nahida feels with this Archon in her lands.
“My goodness, what do we have here?”
Guuji Yae, because of course she addresses him first, passes her Archon and comes to a graceful stop in front of him. He levels her with his best scathing glare—he has a specific one he uses just for her that he's been practicing in preparation for their reunion.
She slips into the Inazuman tongue, saving her words for him and his mother’s ears only; although he has no doubt there are many people in the land of knowledge and wisdom who can understand the language of their nation.
“Now now, such animosity,” She chuckles, bringing her hand to her lips, “I would have expected a warm regard, or perhaps even some gratitude for coming all this way to retrieve you.”
As he’s trying to decide what the best response would be to piss her off the most, Nahida steps forwards to greet the Shogun in the common tongue.
“Welcome to Sumeru. I hope you have found your travels to be safe and pleasant.” She bows her head slightly in welcoming, but not enough to show deference to the other Archon. This is her domain, after all.
The height difference between the two does nothing to reduce Nahida's effortless control of the situation. She looks every bit the Archon that saved her country not even two months ago.
The Shogun gives her own polite bow, lower than Nahida’s, in respect for her peaceful allowance on Sumeran grounds.
“Thank you for receiving us.”
To his own annoyance, relief blooms in his chest as he hears her speak. Her tone is melodious and calm. He hates that he has missed her voice, that something within him settles at hearing it after all these years. Like a child who missed his mother, he can’t help but viciously compare. He doesn't consider for even a moment that might be what he is.
“We honor your invitation, and your understanding of Kunikuzushi’s situation.”
Gritting his teeth at the use of his chosen name, he ignores the various looks drifting his way. Nahida doesn’t react at all to the title. She probably already knew it.
His mother continues, “Please accept these gifts as a token of our gratitude.”
People begin debarking the ship, all carrying carefully wrapped boxes and ceramic items.
If he didn't know any better, he would claim that actual excitement colors her next words, “These are traditional gifts and delicacies from our country. I have also included a product of my own personal enjoyment: I call it ‘Dango Milk’.”
There’s a beat as they all stare at the gray, clumpy liquid swirling in the glass bottle she’s holding.
…What the fuck is that?
He side-eyes the bottle with thinly veiled disgust as his mother offers it to Nahida.
A brief look at Yae’s expression reveals her politely suppressed grimace as well. Perhaps it’s good he left Inazuma when he did. His mother never had a talent for cooking, and he briefly feels pity for the people of his home country if she’s been endorsing ‘delicacies’ for them.
He makes a mental note not to accept any drinks from her.
“Of course. I humbly thank you for your gifts and kind words.” Nahida smiles at his mother, “I am glad he was able to endure a safe recovery. I hope he is able to further heal in Inazuma and feel more at ease in his home-nation.”
Nahida says this with a perfectly cordial tone, but he swears he hears a threat in her words. He wonders if he’s the only one who caught it—the faint shifting behind him would suggest not.
If his mother notices, she does not react.
Instead, she turns and looks straight at Scaramouche.
He locks eyes with the Raiden Shogun for the first time in almost five centuries. Perhaps nothing to a god, but many lifetimes for a human. They both apply to him.
It is as electrifyingly intense as he remembers, as if she can see down to his very core, every atom of his being laid bare for her judgment.
It is silent for one long moment.
And then Scaramouche sees red.
The pure fury that clouds his mind in that instant is so sudden and overwhelming he can do nothing but stare at her. He feels frozen to the spot, a tremble of rage traveling up his spine and down his arms. There are so many things he wants to yell, to scream at her—attack her and rip her chest apart with his bare hands and laugh in her face as he does so, so she might feel even a fraction of the pain and suffering she has caused him. Scaramouche had envisioned this moment many times in the dark of the night, considered what he should say, what he could do to hurt her the most—he has been thinking about this for centuries of how he can hurt her but now—
But now she's standing front of him, and everything seems to disappear.
It's just Scaramouche and his mother, and he doesn't even know what he wants anymore because the emotions inside him will not calm down and he cannot calm down and it hurts so badly how could she have ever done this to him does she even care how he is dead inside and it's her fault—
He will not cry right now. He cannot cry right now.
His nails dig bloody crescents into his palms, dripping ruby down his fingers and onto the wooden dock. It's washed away by the rain.
Their eyes are identical; one pair shining with wet anger, the other with an emotion Scaramouche doesn't know how to name. What does she see in him? In her own eyes staring back at her? The eyes that she gave him?
Violet electricity arcs in the sky and sparks across his Vision. In response to his own intense emotion, her presence, or maybe something else, he doesn’t know. He feels a sliver of vicious victory that his vessel still carries remnants of the Gnosis' power inside him.
He was made in her image. Scaramouche may no longer wield the power of Electro, but he is still the Electro Archon’s son.
He is invulnerable to the pain of her element.
His mother switches languages, speaking in their shared tongue, looking solely at Scaramouche but no doubt addressing him and Nahida both. She notices how he seethes, how could she not, but what happens next flips his world upside down and shocks him cold.
The look on her face—it’s barely there. Invisible, to anyone else. Anyone who isn’t him. So faint he could have imagined it altogether.
A smile. And it is kind.
Oh, how the gods are playing with him now.
“I am pleased we are finally able to bring him home.”
Scaramouche exhales. It feels like anger. It feels like relief. Perhaps it's both.
Something tight begins to uncoil in his chest, and he cannot tell if it is good.
Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance.
Inazuma awaits.