Archive of Our Own ^beta

It starts with an anonymous letter, sent to the Lunar High Court. Scaramouche should have burned it, or at the very least left it ignored. It is bold in its proclamations, sending his heart aflutter in a way it hasn’t in many moons. 

Scaramouche, Swallowtail Moth of the Lunar High Court

I beseech you to lend me your ear. I gazed at how you danced at the last joining of our Courts and found that I could not break away from how you encaptured me. Each step you took was the epitome of perfection, and I ache for an encore so that you may take my breath away once more. I shall not reveal myself to you, for that would negate the true meaning of this exchange; You are beautiful, and I wish for you to carry on dancing to your heart’s content.

The letter is not signed, but Scaramouche already has his suspicions of who it is that dares speak to him in such a way. There is only one who contains such flowery language that he might have attracted from his Lunar Court Dance; Kaedehara Kazuha, Red Admiral Butterfly of the Solar Court. 

Many feelings swirl in Scaramouche’s gut at the revelation, not all of them pleasant. Kazuha’s Solar Court Dance scorches through the ballroom and attracts all eyes to him. He remembers the first time he witnessed Kazuha’s performance as a guest within the Solar Court. The dance etched itself into Scaramouche’s soul and left him shattered.

How could he, a mere reflection of the Sun, hope to compare to true fire that carves its way into the hearts of all? Scaramouche found himself wrought with jealousy, with self loathing. For many days he would think of Kazuha’s dance and ruminate on what it meant to him. Determination slowly replaced the negativity, and from it, admiration bloomed. 

Scaramouche would never admit this, especially now that he knows Kazuha feels the same. It is a secret he wishes to take to his grave, smothered by the dust that covers him. However, there is still the matter of the letter now in his hands. Emboldened by Kazuha’s pretty words, or perhaps incensed, Scaramouche decides he will do something drastic.  

He decides to respond.

Admirer of the High Solar Court,

You are bold in your proclamations, and yet cowardly in your delivery. You sing my praises, and yet hide yourself behind a veil of anonymity. My response to this is thus; if you wish to see me dance once more, you will have to reveal yourself to me. During the Lunar Eclipse, the next time our Courts intertwine in dance, come to my side. If you are bold with your intentions, perhaps I may even grace you with a solo performance. 

Not yours, but curious, Scaramouche, Swallowtail Moth of the Lunar High Court

He sends it with a courier to the Solar Court, addressed to no one, but certainly finding its correct destination. If it becomes everyone’s business in the process of word of mouth, well, that is not Scaramouche’s problem to deal with. 

He has far more important matters to attend to, such as preparing a choreography for his next Lunar Dance. Once a month, he performs for the High Courts. Scaramouche blooms in the Moonlight, gracing everyone with his presence as the centerpiece. Once a month, he gets to shine just as brightly as the sun, despite being a mere reflection of it. 

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On the eve of such a special occasion, Scaramouche stands proudly and alone. Tonight will be a momentous event, and the height of the Lunar Court’s season. It is rare for a full Lunar Eclipse to occur, and all who are participating are dressed to the nines, attempting to stand out amongst the crowd. 

Few, however, manage to succeed. 

Scaramouche is an exception. He has already proven his worth countless times and thus no one dares approach him. He is a singular stardrop, furled wings of pure moonlight upon his back. Dressed gracefully in white, Scaramouche is prepared for what is expected of him tonight.

It is not often for him that boredom sets in. He is far too busy to be caught idle, and the reprieve, while at first welcoming, has now switched its tune into a suffocating interlude. He has resigned himself to such a fate tonight, when the crowd shifts and something changes. 

Kaedehara Kazuha, Red Admiral Butterfly of the Solar Court, enters the ballroom. No one appears to notice him, despite the way his streaks of red clash against every moth within sight. No, only Scaramouche sees him, and the damn butterfly is walking directly toward him. 

It seems Scaramouche’s letter was a little too effective. 

Time doesn’t slow down when their eyes meet. Instead, Scaramouche suddenly feels breathless as the seconds are stripped from him. Within moments, he is nose to nose with Kazuha, a mere foot of distance between them. 

It’s too much. 

It’s not enough. 

Scaramouche can’t decide if he wants to flee (which though cowardly, would be wise) or remain where he is, clutched within the jaws of what feels like fate. The answer should be obvious, but still, he hesitates. 

A moth to a flame, as the idiom goes.

“Kaedehara Kazuha, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?”

His companion steps back, his bow flourished by the brief outstretch of his wings. Confidence, perhaps, or merely habit. When he raises himself, wings now furled, their eyes meet once again. 

“Scaramouche.”

A pause. 

“Don’t make me ask again.“

“You sent me a letter.”

“You sent one first.”

“I did not ask for a response. You are the one who provoked me into action.”

Scaramouche purses his lips, dissatisfied at being on the losing side of their banter. Changing tactics seems to be the wisest of his options. 

“And? What action is it that you desire from me?”

“I want you to dance with me.”

“And why would I do such a thing?”

Kazuha’s eyes burn into his own. 

“Because you want to.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Call it a gut feeling.”

“You are insufferable.”

“That may be so, but you haven’t told me no yet.”

Scaramouche throws his head back, laughing in shock and delight. How long has it been since he’s had such banter? When has someone else been able to match him in wit? The two speak in a back and forth akin to old friends, and yet their meeting is as fresh as a newly born deer.

In lieu of a response, Scaramouche holds out his hand, allowing Kazuha to take it. They are swept onto the dance floor and into the crowd, white clashing with red. There are eyes upon them now, surely, watching them intermingle. It comes with the territory of being a beloved Lunar Moth. 

Kazuha appears uncaring of this, instead keeping his focus solely on him. If that is how it is going to be, Scaramouche decides that he won’t spare a care for others either. Let them watch. Their opinions change nothing. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“We’ve just met, and you’re already trying to pry me open like a chestnut.”

“Is it working?”

“Not yet.”

“Yet, he says.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes playfully, trying to contain his exhilaration. This is a man whose dance holds the Sun in the sky. There is fire beneath his skin, and a heat within his eyes. Enraptured is what Kazuha called himself, but Scaramouche dare says he feels the same. 

“Tell me, why is it that you wished so badly to dance with me like this?”

Scaramouche speaks as though he has not been waiting for this chance.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Perhaps so, but maybe I enjoy the sound of your voice.”

Kazuha chuckles. 

“You are a beauty amongst moths. Your dancing compares to no other, and it is a privilege to bask in your presence.”

“So pretty with your words. That’s how you gave yourself away, I’ll have you know. I knew the letter was yours from the beginning.”

“I did not try to hide the fact it was me. Is it not conceivable that I was simply self conscious of others peering into my private affairs?”

“You? Shy?”

“It happens to the best of us.”

Scaramouche is twirled outward and he flexes his wings, unfurling them with a single beat before relaxing them once more when he is brought back to Kazuha’s side. His dancing partner grins at him. 

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“I am, actually.”

Scaramouche is about to respond when it strikes him, what exactly he is doing. Playing with fire was a conscious decision, but getting lost in the flames causes his feet to falter. More eyes are on them now as the one moth who is supposed to be perfect missteps. If it were not for Kazuha, who catches him swiftly, Scaramouche would have plummeted to the ground. 

Clutched in Kazuha’s arm, Scaramouche stares at him with wide eyes before wrenching himself away. Already, he can feel himself begin to hyperventilate. He does not bid Kazuha farewell, instead ascending the stairs to a higher level of the Court. He passes by many, and they are all staring at him. 

Scaramouche marches on swift feet, unlatching a familiar door and wrenching it open. Stepping through, it is only then that he feels as though he can breathe. With the Full Moon above him painting his surroundings in a soft glow, Scaramouche walks out onto the balcony and grips the railing harshly. 

How idiotic of him to indulge like this. He knows the consequences of dalliances with others, but he got lost within Kazuha’s dance. That damn butterfly entices him, which is exactly why Scaramouche should stay far away from him. 

Only wretched things come from what could happen. 

He hates that it’s already too late for himself. Already, temptation has taken root. Scaramouche wants to return to the ballroom and take Kazuha’s hands within his own. However, his wants are poisonous. They come with a price. 

He’s not willing to allow Kazuha to exact the cost. 

“Scaramouche.”

He flinches, refusing to move from his place at the balcony’s edge. It appears the choice of the matter has slipped from his hands into the one individual he wishes would leave him alone the most. 

Liar. 

Scaramouche has never been very good at deceiving himself. He wanted Kazuha to follow him here, where no eyes will be able to see, and no ears will be able to listen. 

“Turn around.”

“No.”

“Scara–“

“You need to leave.”

“…Alright, I will. But you have to give me a good reason first. If I don’t like your answer, then I’m staying.”

He lets out a hiss of breath between his teeth, shoulders tense. He stares up at the Moon, begging it to give him the strength to do this. 

“I’m bad for you.”

“Try again.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I know. Are you done trying to send me away?”

“No.”

Kazuha chuckles, and he’s closer than Scaramouche expects him to be. It causes him to inhale sharply, refusing to move even a fraction of himself. He cannot show weakness right now. 

“Give me a good reason to leave.”

“You know exactly why you should.”

“Spell it out for me, then.”

Scaramouche bites back a scathing remark. A part of him wants to sink his teeth deep into Kazuha and cause him to bleed. The red would match his wings, his hair. Beautiful, but painful. 

“I want you. That makes me a hazard to both of us.”

“I think I’m capable of handling danger.”

“You don’t get it.”

“No, I do. I’m simply not phased by it.”

Phased? He could laugh if he weren’t so close to letting crystalline tears fall. Turning, Scaramouche faces Kazuha head on. Just as they were earlier, nose to nose, he makes his final stand. 

“I am kin with the Moon, Kazuha. You see me only on my brightest days. But I will wane into something dark and disgusting, and then wax once more into this beautiful creature you think you want.”

“I could want both.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

He screams, frustrated with himself, with Kazuha. This stupid butterfly won’t listen to him, and it’ll bring them to ruin. Scaramouche isn’t doing enough to explain himself properly. 

Kazuha reaches for him and he sidesteps the contact, turning away again in favor of gazing unto the sky. 

“My people worship the Moon in all of its phases. You may love the Sun and its glory, but you’ll never know what it’ll be like to remain in the shadows. We are obsessed with your Light, chasing after a mere reflection of it.”

Broken. Scaramouche is broken, shattered, fragmented. 

“I step into dance with you and it transforms me into that very same obsession. Bursting from a chrysalis, fully formed and disgusting. Do not let my beauty fool you, for I will be quick to douse your flames.”

He awaits judgment. The gavel will fall onto his already broken frame, ringing with a sense of finality. It is the way it should be, but the pain does not lessen from this fact. 

Kazuha breathes, so, so close. A chuckle, a laugh. Scaramouche bristles at the insinuation of disbelief, half turned to truly bite this time. The butterfly stops him, however, pouring honey over the two of them in the form of words. 

“Obsession, you say?”

Brushed against his ear, low cadence reverberating. 

“You and I aren’t as different as you have convinced yourself of. The Sun is in a constant chase after the Moon, revolving through its days but never catching up. You always remain just out of our reach, a hunt with no end. Your beauty entices us. We shine as brightly as we do in hopes of attracting a mere fraction of your attention.”

“You are all fools, then, chasing after a lie. Us moths are mirrors, showing you only what it is you wish to see. You will be blind to the ugliness until it consumes you whole.”

“But your mirror is broken, is it not? I see you, Scaramouche. I see who you pretend to be for the crowds, and I see the moth underneath it all. I still find you beautiful. I still want you.”

Broken, shattered, fragmented. 

Cracked, splintered, crushed. 

Smashed, ruptured, severed. 

Destroyed–

Scaramouche sobs, tracks of salted water trailing down his delicate face. He stares at the Moon long and hard, trying to find answers he doesn’t receive. 

“What this is, it won’t last.”

“It doesn’t have to last.”

“Then what will be the point of it? Of us?”

“Does there have to be one? Sometimes it is better to have existed at all, than to have some true meaning.”

Hands, not his own, wipe the tears from his face. Scaramouche turns his face into the touch, the fight leaving him in a soft exhale. He must accept that Kazuha won’t listen to him. 

“You proclaim we are obsessed with each other. What now?”

“What is it that you want?”

“…Can we talk? Without the bullshit.”

“I assumed we already were.“

The wet laugh Scaramouche lets out is ugly, and he pulls away once more, leaning against the railing. He stares out upon the Lunar Court in all of its glory, what has been his home for countless eons, and his chest constricts with unknown emotions.

“The only thing you can trust the Moon to be is inconsistent. My affections for you could very well be false, a pretty lining underneath silver light.”

“Are you still trying to warn me away from you?”

“…No, I want you to stay. I have desired before, but never quite like this. My obsessive nature is not new, but to be matched within it is a foreign concept to me.”

Kazuha joins him at the railing, flexing his wings. He is silent for a long moment, and Scaramouche would do anything to crawl inside that mind of his and make it his home. 

“I am the one who holds up the Sun, but it’s a heavy burden to bear. Sometimes, I burn so brightly that no one dares come close. I have been alone, even amongst my own kind. My fire could very well scorch you too.”

“Within the Lunar Court, the cool night air will help to quell your heat. I have never found your flames unbearable. In fact, I find myself attracted to them.”

“Because you are a moth.”

“Because I am not blind, dear butterfly. The heat within you makes my heart race.”

“How is it that you manage to render a poet speechless? I am a wordsmith, but the unfiltered honesty that comes from your mouth takes my breath away.”

Scara can’t help but smirk, batting a wing to brush against Kazuha’s own. The two of them freeze at the pleasant sensation, before melting within it. The contact is… nice.

“You know, lately I feel as though my dance is missing something.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Hm. I think I’ve lost a key component. My inspiration.”

“But how you dance is so beautiful–“

“It is flawless. Perfect. Boring. I write choreography with my eyes closed. It’s routine for me.”

Silence. Inhale. Exhale. 

“My performance tonight will be different.”

Kazuha gazes at him, curiosity gracing his actions. Scaramouche meets his eyes with a smile, small, but genuine.

“Thanks to a certain letter, I’ve found a source of inspiration.”

“Are you saying that–“

“Shh. You’ll have to wait and see. A moth never reveals its secrets.”

Down below, the chiming of a bell can be heard. The sound hits Scaramouche, intertwining with his nerves and causing his wings to flutter. He folds them quickly, pulling away.

“It is time for my dance. Will you watch?”

“For you? Always.”

The two descend side by side, not quite touching, but close. The eyes return, but Scaramouche keeps his chin held high. This is what he was made for. The attention settles under his skin, causing him to flush pleasantly. 

It’s time. 

The ballroom is depleted of its occupants, and Scaramouche turns impulsively, getting into Kazuha’s space before he can respond. He places a kiss – feather light – to the corner of his mouth. 

“Keep your eyes on me.”

He turns before Kazuha can respond, approaching the center of the room. Every light is doused, the audience settling themselves on the upper levels to watch. The moon displays itself heavily overhead, and slowly a shadow begins to overtake it. 

Scaramouche’s dance begins as it always does. A small flourish of his wings, a tease of what is to come. The beginning steps are the same, his arm movements strict, but as he turns from one position to another, he begins to change. 

The perfection of the Lunar Dance transforms as clearly as the phases of its worshippers. Sparks fly beneath Scaramouche’s feet as he sweeps a leg high, arching himself in supplication. He spent weeks studying the dances of the Sun Court, inspired by his obsession. 

Everyone’s eyes are upon him, but one pair burns brighter than all of the others. Scaramouche feels himself bursting into metaphorical flames as he dances, combining the delicate Moon steps with the passionate Sun forms. 

It’s exhilarating. 

Never has he felt so alive before. 

He hopes Kazuha feels the same. 

The dance hits its peak when the Moon darkens into a haunting red. Scaramouche kneels, white dress and white wings encircling him. From above, he is a facsimile of the Moon he worships. The red glow enshrouds him in beauty, leaving him the sole star left within the sky. 

Gasps cycle through his admirers and Scaramouche darts his head up, watching Kazuha in his approach. Frozen where he kneels, Scaramouche is helpless to ward the obsession from taking root once more. 

Kazuha offers his hand, and he grasps it delicately, being pulled to his feet. Nose to nose, neither of them moves. 

“What are you doing?”

A hiss, a whisper. 

“Dance with me.”

A demand, undeniable.

Scaramouche nods, and is swept off of his feet. Disbelief paints his next steps as Kazuha leads them in a Lunar Dance. The butterfly has memorized Scaramouche’s previous moves and is copying them perfectly. 

Not one to be outdone, Scaramouche spreads his wings, boldly stepping into line with him. Their movements are fluid, attuned to one another. Steps slide from Lunar into Solar, brightening the entire ballroom with their passion. 

Scaramouche has never felt more alive. 

He watches, breathless as Kazuha’s wings unfurl. No words are needed as the two of them launch into the sky, continuing their graceful dance. Steps are taken on air, and laughter bubbles up as the moon begins to reveal itself once more. 

Both of them, painted in red, gradually fade back into white. Kazuha is even more beautiful in the Moonlight, and Scaramouche can’t take his eyes off of him. The butterfly appears the same, gaze boring into him intensely. 

Their finale has them separating, Scaramouche darting higher into the sky, wings blocking out the moon, while Kazuha dives, landing once more onto the ballroom floor below. Taking a deep breath, Scaramouche gives Kazuha all of his trust, his love, his obsession. 

He lets himself plummet. 

Kazuha launches himself into the air, catching him in flight and spinning them slowly back to the earth. The two of them land gently, nose to nose, frozen in time. Kazuha is the one to speak, breath lost just as Scaramouche’s.

“We should leave.”

“To talk?”

“To talk.”

Scaramouche lets himself be led back to that balcony, and for a long time, the two of them are quiet. 

“You know the Solar Dance.”

Not an accusation. Scaramouche doesn’t take it as one, either. 

“You know the Lunar Dance.”

Another pause, small giggles shared between them. 

“Scaramouche, I know we only have today, but–“

“Let me speak first. Please.”

Kazuha shushes himself, waiting for his response. 

“I will change, and it most likely won’t be for the better. I won’t ask you to stay, but… I won’t make you leave, either.”

“I can stay?”

Breathless, excited. Scaramouche bites his lip, trying to keep himself from smiling. 

“We can try. That’s all I offer.”

“That’s more than enough for me.”

There, on a lonely balcony underneath the full Moon, a moth and butterfly begin to dance once more. No eyes are upon them, and the Galaxy is their only witness. They’re not perfect, and they’re obsessive, and they could very well fall apart, but that’s okay. 

Because they have today, which is all either of them needs.