A/N: EDIT: Pesky trolls will be trolls, I suppose.

Still would you look at that? Weekly updates! Surprise, surprise!

Amazing what a little feedback can do, eh? Downright miraculous, really.

Shed no Grace on Me isn't quite ready yet, that update will have to wait until tomorrow. Needless to say, the chapter's going to be absolutely massive in size and scope, but I simply don't have time to finish it this orning. If I tried to rush it now, I'd have to skip the Caelid scenes I've written; not to mention Milicent, and I'm sure that would upset a great many people.

So here we are, by popular demand:

A world before the Night of Black Knives.

A saga told shortly before the infamous Shattering took place...

A tale of courtly intrigue among the demigods...but for how long will it last?

Once more, we're sticking with the "Embers" rule for this story, and others. If folks don't like this, it won't be continued. Meaning that if the story itself ain't popular? POOF! Gone. Completely. I'm working two jobs -might need a third soon!- so I barely have time to write; as such, I cannot afford to write something folks don't enjoy. So by all means, speak up! Your voice matters! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustain me. Without them I cannot write a single word. Simple as that. Working nearly all hours of the day keep me absurdly busy, and I can't bring myself to write something folks don't like.

As ever, I own no references, quotes, memes or themes. Not a wit or a one.

I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild world, one word at a time.

Lastly, I'm aware this is Ranni's line, but it still applies to the world of Elden Ring as a whole.

And in the words of Kaif...

...SPOILERS!

"Good Morning...

~?

Dear Consort Eternal

There was a man in her chambers.

Queen Marika the Eternal, vessel of the Greater Will and ruler of the Lands Between, opened her eyes, blinked the black spots from her vision...and blinked again, just to make certain she wasn't dreaming.

But lo and behold, the scene before her didn't change. All-seeing eyes beheld a pair of slim shoulders facing away from her; shoulders attached to a bare back, which was in turn connected to an equally naked chest, the latter of which even now rose and fell in peaceful slumber. She couldn't see his face, not with his back to her, but she beheld messy blond hair and whiskered cheeks, the latter of which were dimpled in a small, sleepy smile.

Why?

Why was there a naked man in her bed?

Why was she so bloody blasted sore, for that matter?

Confusion took wing in the God-Queen's heart as she squinted at this stranger. She lifted the sheets just to make certain. Not a stitch of clothing on her body to be seen. She tilted her head to the right. At least Radagon wasn't anywhere to be seen; she had the feeling her other half would laugh at such a sight. She did not remember taking such a Consort. Not after Godfrey had been hounded from the Capital.

.

..

...this is perplexing."

Sitting up slowly she clutched the sheets to her chest and glanced about her chambers.

Everything lay in tatters as far as her eye could see, bits of broken furniture and clothes scattered hereabouts. Nor had the room itself been spared; scars pockmarked the walls and floor, as though something had been smashed into them repeatedly with great force and fervor. And if bits of tattered clothing just-so-happened to linger near those strange craters and dents...well.

Judging by her soreness, Marika had a feeling she knew what -who!- had created them.

Her gaze swept back to the stranger's back and sure enough, she saw the scratch marks etched into his spine.

She felt no shame, of course. She was a Queen. She could bed whomever she pleased. What did she and Radagon care for the morals of mortals?

What she did experience now, however, was an awful headache. Try as she might, she couldn't recall what had led her -them!- to this moment. Such was not a strange occurrence for once such as she -memories often escaped her- but even so, the question was a tiny thorn in her side, nagging at her without end. There had been a festival, hadn't there? Cause to celebrate something. A great victory. Wine had flowed freely through the Capital as the people made merry. She'd let her hair down for the first time in eons.

There had been a Visitor, too. Marika recalled that much. Someone claiming to be from another world.

He'd sought an audience with her. He'd asked her a question, hadn't he? How her head ached.

Blue eyes came to mind now, narrow and intent. Realization dawned.

On a whim she lay back down to gaze at his back...and her hands. There was dried blood beneath her nails. In that at least, her suspicions were confirmed. They'd been rough with one another. Downright angry, even. But why? What reason would she possibly have to be angry with a man she'd never met?

A flash of memory took her unawares.

"Drink, oh Stranger!" she'd offered him a chalice. "To the defeat of the Giants! To a new age! Make merry!"

Yes, yes, yes! There it was. It was all coming back to Marika now, but slowly, in bits and pieces...

Ah, such scorn he'd shown her words. "How can you celebrate something like this?"

"'Tis a new epoch, an era of peace...come, drink. Tell me what ails thee."

His lip turned up. "Not my thing, Lady. Find another drinking partner."

"Art thou afraid?" she had cooed at him, mocked him, in her daze.

He tore the chalice from her grasp, brandishing it like a blade.

"Fine! Gimme that! I've got a bone to pick ya!"

There had been argument. A fierce one.

Wine flowed with words.

Without warning, her so-called "consort" rolled over. Marika stiffened. His eyes were wide open, just as she remembered, face mere inches from her own. She could see now what she'd seen in him then, even in a drunken stupor. She saw it even more clearly now, despite the aching of her temples. His was a stern face, filled with determination and resolve, not unlike her last Lord. A certain strength of spirit perhaps. Not unattractive either, nay, certainly not.

But unlike the late Godfrey, he didn't look much pleased with her, nor her deeds.

Silence stretched between them. Someone broke it.

...are you kidding me?" he was the one to shatter the impasse. "Of all the rotten luck...not now, Kurama!"

Who was this Kurama of which he spoke?

To his credit the boy -man!- didn't panic, though she did behold a faint flash of recognition tinged with alarm. Anger knotted his visage and he sat up, his shoulders stiff. He let the sheets bunch about his waist; if he was at all embarrassed by his nakedness, he did little to show it. Nay, his gaze remained fixed firmly on hers. For a moment, she wondered if he might attack her; he certainly looked irritated enough.

At length he leaned back, however, palming his face. "What did you put in that wine?

Anger knotted in Marika's heart. Nay. Surely not. He would be a fool to even suggest such.

"Whatever are you implying, good sir?" She lifted her chin, a rare pang of mulish, girlish defiance coursing through her veins. "If thou think I drugged thee, I would have you reconsider." when he balked, she huffed. 'Tis no fault of mine thou cans't handle thy whine."

Did he look a bit stung by that remark? Good! She hoped so!

She was a goddess. A beauty unparalleled in the Lands Between.

Men craved her. Women wanted to be her. She had no need of drugs or potions! To even imply such...!

...we are not having this conversation." he stumbled upright with a groan, letting the sheets fall away. "Its too early for this." another groan was immediately forthcoming when he beheld the tattered, battered threads of his attire, or rather the lack thereof. "Aw, c'mon! I liked that outfit!" he bent down to retrieve a ruined stitch of cloth, unaware of her following gaze. "Now I need new clothes!"

"You need not worry, oh Consort." the words escaped her before she could think to hold them back. "You shall have them."

He squinted at her. "Consort?"

Marika preened. "'Tis a a high honor."

Yes, The more she thought about it, the more she found herself warming to the idea. There would be no need to recall Radagon to the capital immediately, though she might yet consider raising his children to their rightful status regardless of this outcome. This one would serve. She did so like defiant men, or rather, the act of breaking them. Godfrey had been much the same, before he realized the...benefits of bowing to her.

"Yeah?" the man scoffed aloud. "Well, it ain't one I want. Bye."

Just like that, he stalked toward the exit, leaving her naked and alone.

All that pride turned to ash in Marika's mouth. He was really doing it, the lout; just abandoning her, like some witless maiden.

She clamored upright after him, hastily conjuring a white shift with her powers. "Were art thou going?!"

"Gonna raid the kitchen and find something ta wear! He hallooed back. "We'll talk after!"

A rare pang of panic bleated in her heart. She didn't even know who he was. Rumors would fly and though she cared not a jot for them, she still found herself at something of a loss. Just who was this oaf?! All thoughts of smiting him or cursing him fell to the wayside, replaced by simple a need to know who he was. She would remember this indignity and revisit it upon him tenfold. But for now...!

"Wait!" she cried out, flinging a finger at him. "You name! I would have your name!"

He glared bloody red daggers at her. "Naruto."

His peace said, the blond stalked out.

Marika found herself left alone glowering after him, unable to follow; because her legs refused to obey her, rooted to the floor by fear. Fear! Her! She'd not felt a thing before. Not once. Not ever! And yet one look at him, at the ire in those eyes, had been enough to still her where she stood. He had dismissed her as though she were nothing to him. No one. Her lips pursed into a thin line. She was a Goddess. A Queen. No one had ever treated her like this before, and yet this "Naruto" dared...?

This wasn't over. Let him have his victory. She had his name.

His defiance would avail him naught. Not a jot.

How little she knew.

A/N: And there we have it. Request fulfilled.

Ha! Naruto just got here, and he's already done with Marika's shenanigans! Its implied that Naruto may well be a Consort to many.

Malenia and Miquella will still come about of course; after all, time means nothing to gods and demigods...

Do you want this to be a story? Yes? No? Maybe so? Make yourselves heard! Once more, we're sticking with the "Embers" rule for this particular story, and others.

If folks don't like this, it won't be continued. Meaning that if the story itself ain't popular? POOF! Gone. Completely. I'm working two jobs -might need a third soon!- so I barely have time to write; as such, I cannot afford to write something folks don't enjoy. So by all means, speak up! Your voice matters! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustain me. Without them I cannot write a single word. Simple as that. Working nearly all hours of the day keep me absurdly busy, and I can't bring myself to write something folks don't like.

Aaaand there we go. As ever, reviews keep me alive. Without them, I cannot write. So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review...Would You Kindly? And have some previews -potential blot bin things- that I'm working on.

(Previews)

"Such a strange one, you are.

"Lady, you don't know the half of it...

"Wait, wait, wait. You put him in the sewers?! Let him out!"

"Children, the lot of you! If I have to thrash your asses to keep order, I will!" he spread his arms wide. "I'll take you all on!"

"You must be Ranni. Nice ta meetcha-hey! Why are you glarin' at me like that."

"Are you a pawn of hers, then? Do you serve the Fingers?

"Listen here, missy. I ain't nobody's pawn...

"There are some things you just don't do. If your so-called Golden Order would go that far...

"Your strength...extraordinary. What are you?"

Parry. Riposte. Staff struck sword.

"We've been over this!"

They whirled apart in a maelstrom of blades and staves; for the first time in an age, the ghost of a smile touched Malenia's face as she danced away. He was keeping up with her; nay, more than that. He was pressing her. When was the last time she had found herself on the defensive? She couldn't remember. She could hear Miquella hollering encouragement to both of them from the sidelines. Someone -Radahn?- was clapping, applauding their display. This wasn't a true duel. She knew that. Who knew what might transpire if they truly tried to kill one another? But for now?

She'd finally met her match.

"Hey!" Naruto's laughter rose in her ears. "You don't look half bad when ya smile! Lets kick this up a notch!"

His eyes blazed a bright, gleeful gold. That was his only warning. Then he was upon her.

Much too fast! Malenia yelped as she hadn't since she was a little girl.

R&R~!