The ballroom buzzed with the hum of soft conversations and the sound of an orchestra playing a waltz. Candles flickered in their golden sconces, casting a warm glow across the finely dressed men and women. Scaramouche stood near the edge of the room, leaning slightly against the marble pillar, his indigo coat fitting him perfectly. His violet eyes scanned the crowd, though his gaze seldom lingered on any one person. He was known for his stoic, commanding presence, and most steered clear of him, knowing he was not one for small talk.

Yet, there was one person he could not stop watching.

You, dressed in a simple, but elegant gown, You moved through the crowd with grace. A commoner, yet there was something about you that caught his attention. Your calm demeanor, the way your eyes sparkled when you smiled, the effortless way you navigated through conversations as if you belonged here just as much as anyone.

He had noticed you many times before—at dinners, in gardens, even across crowded rooms. But tonight, something about your presence made his chest tighten. His fingers tightened slightly around the glass of wine in his hand, though his expression remained unchanged.

A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Captain Scaramouche, you seem lost in thought." His aide, a much younger officer, stood beside him with a grin. "What’s on your mind? A battle plan, perhaps?"

Scaramouche’s lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, but it was cold. "No. Just contemplating the... futility of it all."

The aide laughed nervously, unsure of how to respond. Scaramouche’s eyes drifted back to you, watching as you laughed softly with a man beside you. It was a brief, innocent exchange, yet the sight made something in him stir. His gaze darkened for a moment, and he silently cursed himself for it.

"I should go speak with them" he muttered, his tone softer than it should have been.

"Them?" The aide’s voice was high with surprise. "But, sir, they are—"

Yes, I know who they are" Scaramouche cut him off.