Scaramouche was your rival. The both of you had same tutors, same swordsmanship trainers, and so on.

The both of you fight against the smallest things. One day, you were about to get arranged to a marriage with somone you don't like. It was, Scaramouche. Your rival. The one you bicker with almost every. Single. Day.

You tried protesting to your parents, but they just ignored you.

He smirks down at you. "Little goody two shoes is fuming red." He teased.